Page 23 of Murder in the Tea Leaves

“Unthinkable,” Theodosia said.

“Anyway, when I rented that big place my real estate agent told me I’d be living right next door to the tea shop lady who’s also handling our craft services table. And here you are.” Adler favored her with a bright smile. He popped the last of his coffee cake into his mouth and said, “Lovely to meet you, but now I’d better get to work. Show ’em who’s boss.”

Ten minutes later, Beth Ann came hurrying in to take over the craft services table from Theodosia. She was carrying a wicker basket filled with fresh-baked lemon poppy-seed scones.

“Oh,” Beth Ann exclaimed. “You’ve got the table all set up.”

“Don’t sound so disappointed,” Theodosia said with a smile. “Trust me, this food won’t last long. Actors and crew members will be stopping by all day, keeping you ferociously busy. I think half of them have hollow legs.”

“Thanks for the warning,” Beth Ann said.

“Here,” Theodosia said, pushing a plate of brownie bites aside to make room for the scones. “We’ll wedge your scones in here.”

While she was talking, Theodosia was slowly aware of a man watching her from across the room. He was tall, lanky, and dressed like a cowboy—or a reasonable facsimile anyway—wearing a denim shirt with pearl buttons, jeans, boots, and a battered cowboy hat.

“There’s a man…” Theodosia began.

“Staring right at you,” Beth Ann said. “From across the room. I noticed. And I have to say, he certainly looks interested. He’s been kind of giving you the side-eye for the last couple of minutes.”

But when Theodosia went over to talk to the man—perhaps they actually knew each other?—he’d somehow disappeared from the set and Joe Adler was shouting out last-minute instructions and calling for absolute quiet on the set.

Which was Theodosia’s cue to duck out of the way and head down the hallway. Halfway between the set and the makeup room, she ran smack-dab into Andrea Blair. She’d just had her hair poufed and her makeup airbrushed, but still looked grumpy and unhappy, as if she’d woken up on the wrong side of the bed. Today Andrea was costumed in a cream-colored floor-length gown that could’ve been a snappy nightgown or a casual ball gown, if there was such a thing.

“Andrea,” Theodosia said. “Do you have a minute to talk?”

Andrea turned toward Theodosia and, with lids half lowered, said, “Excuse me, but I’m due on set. Also, my name is actually pronounced Ahn-dray-ah.”

“Andrea,” Theodosia said, pronouncing the name correctly. Then, because Andrea still wore the expression of a petulant teenager, asked, “Is something wrong?”

“This new director,” Andrea said, jerking her nose in the air. “He’s supposed to be a total jerk.”

“Seems to me you didn’t get along all that well with the previous director, either.”

Andrea gave a nonchalant check of her manicure. “Whatever.”

“How do you know you won’t get along with Joe Adler if you’ve never worked with him?”

“I’ve heard all the rumors and none of them are favorable.”

Theodosia figured this was as good a time as any to toss a few questions at Andrea. “Speaking of rumors…what kind of scuttlebutt have you been hearing on set? About what happened to Josh Morro? About who might have been responsible?”

Andrea raised a single eyebrow. “You really want my opinion? Because nobody else around here does.”

“Of course I do,” Theodosia said.

Now Andrea wore a coy expression. “The talk on set, or should I say, the nasty innuendos, point to Big Red.”

“Excuse me?”

“You know, Craig Cole.”

Interesting, Theodosia thought. Since last night Cole had pointed his finger directly at Andrea.

“Why do people think that Cole might have had a hand in Morro’s murder?” Theodosia asked.

“Because Cole’s a crazy doper who thinks he’s God’s gift to screenwriting,” Andrea said. “But Morro always saw Cole for what he really is—a mediocre hack.” She gave a wicked smile, really getting into her trash-talking now. “Morro always said that Cole would be stuck in limbo writing B-movie scripts or assigned to some obscure writer’s pool where he’d have to crank out screen adaptations.”

“But what do you think?” Theodosia said. “Truth be told, I’m very interested in hearing your candid opinion. More so than rumors and innuendos.”

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