Shades of Earl Grey

Chapter 19

Haley cast an appraising eye at the yellow froth that bubbled in the top pan of her double boiler. It looked good, she decided, was sticking together nicely. Grabbing a wire whisk, she added the last of the sugar and lemon zest, then continued to whisk the mixture as it cooked. Finally, when her concoction began to thicken, she removed the pan from the stove and began to add soft fresh cream butter, feeding it in a little at a time.

“My goodness, Haley,” marveled Drayton as he stepped into the kitchen, “it smells absolutely divine in here. What magic are you whipping up this morning?”

She held up the pan for him to see. “Lemon curd. And it does smell wonderful, doesn’t it?”

“You’re making real lemon curd?” he asked in amazement.

“Sure. It’s a snap, really. Just four simple ingredients. Eggs, lemon, sugar, butter.”

“Yes, but you have to know exactly what to do with the ingredients. And it’s not just proportions, the cooking times are quite exacting, too. And then there’s the double boiler thing.”

“Are you saying I don’t know how to make fresh lemon curd?” Haley demanded with a crooked smile.

“No, I’m just saying it’s a tricky proposition at best.”

“Proof’s in the tasting,” said Haley as she held up a wooden spoon with a swirl of yellow gracing the end.

Obediently, Drayton tasted the dollop of lemon curd. “Oh my goodness!” he exclaimed. “This is good. Sweet but subtly tart, too. Layers of flavor.”

“My grandmother’s recipe,” explained Haley. “And if it’s any consolation to you, those are the same things she said. Awfully tricky, got to get the proportions just so, and a double boiler is a must.”

“But you mastered it,” said Drayton, still impressed.

“Of course.”

“And you plan to serve it with . . .” prompted Drayton.

“There’s a couple pans of shortbread in the oven,” said Haley. “But lemon curd keeps for a good month once it’s refrigerated, so when we do cakes for afternoon tea, it’ll make a great topping.”

“Morning, Theo,” Drayton called as he heard the back door click open. “How was the concert last night?”

“Yeah,” called Haley, “I bet it was great, huh?”

Theodosia stood in the doorway of the tiny kitchen and nodded enthusiastically. “Wonderful.” She didn’t have the heart to tell them she’d listened halfheartedly to the first half, then spent the second half outside, trading cat burglar theories with Jory Davis.

“Timothy was playing first violin, I take it?” said Dray-ton as he grabbed a silver tray and followed Theodosia into the tea shop.

“And doing a masterful job,” Theodosia assured him.

“I’m baffled as to how the man does it,” said Drayton. “Poor Timothy is worried sick about the public opening of the Treasures Show tomorrow night, yet there he was playing with the symphony,” said Drayton. “He’s really quite remarkable.”

“I agree,” said Theodosia as the two copper tea kettles Drayton had put on to boil just minutes earlier began to sing their high-pitched duet. “So what’s on tap for this morning?” she asked him.

Drayton reached overhead and pulled down tins and jars of loose tea. “I thought I’d do pots of Earl Grey and Assam, which are nice and mellow and traditional, although this particular Assam is a trifle malty. Then I’ll mix things up with a couple blends, perhaps a cinnamon spice and a ginseng plum. Of course, if someone has a special request, we’ll oblige them as always.”

“Wonderful,” said Theodosia. She still felt a little discombobulated from last night. After her intense discussion with Jory Davis, she’d had dreams about cat burglars all night long. Got to get my head in the game, she told herself as the door swung open and the morning’s first customers came drifting in. Stop worrying about creepy cat burglars.

“Oh,” said Haley as she sped past Theodosia with plates of shortbread topped with her still-warm lemon curd, “I forgot to give you this.” She handed over a large brown envelope. “I guess someone must have slipped it under the door. Anyway, it was lying on the floor when I opened up this morning.”

Theodosia took the envelope from Haley and glanced at it curiously. The envelope was a number ten, business size, made of brown craft paper. Glued to the front was a white label with a single typed word, Theodosia.

“Wonder what it is?” she said.

Haley, who was busy gathering napkins and placing forks on plates, shrugged. “Don’t know,” she said, unconcerned. “Maybe a thank-you note from someone who attended yesterday afternoon’s reception?”

Theodosia grabbed a butter knife, slipped it under the gummed flap of the envelope to open it. She pulled out a piece of paper and unfurled it. As she began to read, her brows knit together and a frown creased her normally placid face. It was a note all right, but not of the thank-you variety. Instead, a very strange message had been laser-printed on a sheet of plain white paper.

“What is it?” asked Haley, suddenly aware that Theodosia had gone silent.

Wordlessly, Theodosia handed the note to Haley and watched as she read it.

Haley’s face changed from polite interest to utter confusion. “What the heck...?” she said. “Is this crazy little ditty supposed to mean something?”

“It’s a passage from Alice in Wonderland,” said Theodosia.

“Yeah, great. Fun kids literature and all that. But why send it to you? And without a signature yet. Is this supposed to be some kind of inside joke?”

“I’m not exactly sure,” said Theodosia. “But I get the feeling that it might be...it could be... some kind of challenge.”

“Holy smokes!” exclaimed Haley, realization starting to dawn. “Because you’ve been poking around...Hey, Drayton!” She motioned frantically for Drayton to come over to the counter.

Drayton came hustling over immediately. “What’s wrong?” he asked, taking in the very sober looks on both their faces.

Haley thrust the mysterious note into Drayton’s hands. “Take a look. I found it stuck under the door this morning.”

“Addressed to Theodosia?” he asked as he reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out his glasses, and slid them onto his nose.

They both nodded.

Drayton studied the note intently. Finally, he looked up and met their gazes. “It’s a passage from Lewis Carroll’s Through the Looking Glass,” he said.

Haley bobbed her head eagerly. “That’s what Theodosia said. Gosh, you two are so incredibly well read. Makes me want to change my major back to English lit.”

“Haley . . .” warned Drayton with an owlish look. “I don’t think this was intended as a lighthearted little note.”

“Theodosia called it a challenge,” Haley told him.

“Indeed, it could be,” said Drayton. “Witness the teatime reference that clearly relates to us.”

“And what about the little bat business and up above the world you fly?” asked Haley.

“I don’t know,” said Drayton. “It’s strange, I’ll give you that much. I get the feeling they’re slightly left-handed inferences as to what’s been going on around here lately. Flying around, looking around, something like that.”

“Mm-hm,” said Haley, not completely absorbing all of Drayton’s words.

“In other words, a taunt,” said Drayton, heavily enunciating the t’s.

“You mean someone might be daring Theo to take them on?” asked Haley. “Someone being this cat burglar guy?”

“I suppose one could interpret it that way,” said Dray-ton.

“Whoooa,” said Haley. “Ain’t that a kick.”

“It means you’ve struck a nerve,” said Drayton, looking directly at Theodosia.

Theodosia managed a thin smile. “Gulp,” she said. She meant her remark to be humorous, but nobody laughed.

Drayton refolded the note, handed it to Theodosia. “We’d better talk about this when we’re not so busy.”

Theodosia was still standing at the counter with the folded note in her hand when Aerin Linley came bustling in a few moments later.

“Hey there,” she greeted Theodosia. “Can I get a couple cuppas to go? Anything you’ve got ready is fine. As long as it’s not sweet.”

“Absolutely,” said Theodosia, sliding the note across the counter and putting a little green Staffordshire teapot on top of it for safekeeping.

“You okay?” asked Aerin.

Theodosia looked up sharply. “Pardon?”

“Oh, you looked a little worried there for a moment. I would think you’d be doing handsprings right about now. Folks really went ga-ga over your T-Bath products yesterday afternoon. I hope you’ve called in a big reorder to your supplier.”

“Don’t worry,” said Theodosia as she poured streams of freshly made Assam tea into dark blue take-out cups. “That’s at the top of my to-do list today.” Aerin’s good humor was contagious and Theodosia was suddenly caught up in her enthusiasm. “I’m so glad you and Brooke were able to stop by.”

“You know, I was perfectly serious about the TV show idea,” Aerin said as she cocked her head and smile at Theodosia. In her pink cotton crewneck sweater, khaki slacks, and beige leather slip-on shoes, she looked very sporty, far younger than her thirty-six or thirty-seven years. “You’d be great on-air,” Aerin said with encouragement. “You’re so pretty and vivacious, I’m sure you could deliver a great segment.”

“Actually,” said Theodosia, warming up to the idea, “I’d love to do a tea segment. A few folks are still under the illusion that tea is the drink of choice for blue-haired ladies in pillbox hats. Nothing wrong with blue-haired ladies in hats, of course, but tea’s really come into its own as a contemporary drink.”

“You’re darned right it has,” said Aerin. “When kids are chugging premixed chai like water, you know tea has hit mainstream! Ohh . . .” she exclaimed as Haley rushed by with another tray of short bread and lemon curd. “Is that lemon curd? Real lemon curd? The kind you slave over a hot stove for?”

So, of course, Theodosia had to fill a small, square jar with lemon curd for Aerin to take along with her.

Jory Davis didn’t call until they were caught up in the whirlwind that was lunch. “Hello?” said Drayton, deftly balancing the phone, a tray stacked with fruit and cheese plates, and a pot of tea.

“Hi, Drayton,” said Jory. “Is Theodosia around?”

Drayton peered out over the tearoom and crooked a finger at Theodosia. She caught his meaning and signaled back. “She’ll be with you in a second,” Drayton told Jory.

Theodosia hurried across the room and snatched the phone up. “Hello?”

“Hey there,” said Jory Davis.

“Hey there, yourself,” said Theodosia. “You realize everyone here thinks I was soothed by music from Rigolletto and La Traviata last night.”

“Well, you almost were,” he said. “And admit it, wasn’t snuggling under a full moon better?”

“You’ll get no argument from me. Like I said last night, I can always listen to it on CD.”

“Say,” said Jory, “I know you’re busy, heck, we’re both busy, but I was able to work in some fast investigating this morning.”

“Terrific. What did you come up with?” she asked.

Jory Davis sighed. “Nothing.”

“Nada,” said Jory. “No record. The guy’s clean as a whistle.”

“That’s weird. I had a feeling there might be something.”

“I couldn’t even find an unpaid parking ticket,” said Jory. “He’s a model citizen.”

“Hmm.” Theodosia gazed out over the tea shop, noting that every table was filled and that Drayton and Haley were running around like chickens with their heads cut off. “Listen, why don’t you come by for dinner tonight.” She wanted to clue Jory in about the note that had been slipped under the door this morning, but right now wasn’t the best time.

“Great!” said Jory.

“Hold on,” said Theodosia. “I’m thinking about inviting Drayton and Haley, too.”

“Oh, a working dinner,” said Jory, with no less enthusiasm.

“When we get this cat burglar thing figured out,” said Theodosia, “I promise dinner for two. With a full complement of candlelight and wine.”

“And I shall bring the roses,” laughed Jory. “Although I think I’ll bring wine tonight as well. What time shall I plan to arrive on madame’s doorstep?”

“Eight. And since you volunteered to bring wine, kindly make it white.”

“I’ll spend the rest of my day pondering the merits of a fine Vouvray versus a Chenin Blanc.”

“Bye bye,” she told him, laughing.

“My gosh,” said Drayton, “I must have looked like the juggler in Cirque du Soleil, what with teapots in one hand and fruit and cheese plates in the other. Sometimes I yearn for the good old days when we only served tea.”

“Adding a lunch service really has livened things up,” agreed Theodosia.

“Even on Graham Carmody?” Theodosia asked with surprise.

“And contributed nicely to our bottom line,” added Drayton.

Theodosia was keenly aware that they had run in the red for more months than she cared to think about. Now, this last year, they had clearly been in the black, with the last six months veering toward very respectable profits.

“Today will be a push from now on,” declared Haley. “Friday afternoons are never all that busy. I guess people must take off early or go shopping or something. Anyway,” she looked over at the three tables that were still occupied, “they’re not here.”

“How would the two of you like to join me for dinner tonight?” suggested Theodosia.

“Really?” squealed Haley. “I’d love to. I didn’t have anything special planned.”

“What about you, Drayton?” asked Theodosia. “I’ve invited Jory Davis to dinner, too.”

“I’d be delighted,” he said. “May I bring anything. Or do anything?”

“That goes for me, too,” said Haley.

“Drayton, you just get yourself to my place by eight o’clock. Haley, if there’s some leftover shortbread and lemon curd, maybe you could package it up and bring it along for dessert.”

“Oops,” said Haley, cupping a hand to her mouth. “We just served the last piece of shortbread. But there’s still tons of lemon curd to use as topping. How about if I pop a cake in the oven?”

“Fine idea,” declared Drayton.

“Only if it isn’t too much work,” said Theodosia. “After all, we’re all still recovering from yesterday.”

“I’m sure Haley can manage just fine,” offered Dray-ton. “And if I could interject a thought, might I suggest a coconut cake?”

“Haley, can you manage?” asked Theodosia, amused by Drayton’s ravenous desire for cake.

“Seeing how much it means to Drayton,” she said, assuming an exaggerated hands-on-hips stance, “I’ll try.”

Detective Tidwell pushed open the door, eased himself into the tearoom. He let the door close behind him, yet made no effort to move to a table, preferring to stand there in an ill-fitting tweed jacket and pork pie hat, surveying the premises with a slightly haughty air.

Haley noticed him first. “Uh-oh,” she said under her breath. “That detective is here again.”

Theodosia looked over and gave a quick wave.

“He looks like he’s been shrink-wrapped in tweed,” murmured Haley.

“Ssssh,” warned Drayton as he tried to stifle a grin and Theodosia hurried forth to greet Tidwell.

“Detective Tidwell, nice to see you again,” said Theodosia in her best tea shop hostess patois. “Won’t you have a seat?”

Tidwell shuffled to a table, lowered his bulk carefully.

“Can I offer you some tea?” asked Theodosia. Goodness, she decided, in the wake of Tidwell’s sullenness, I sound hideously chirpy.

Tidwell gave a faint nod.

“Do you have a taste for anything in particular?” she asked.

“Surprise me,” said Tidwell in an uncharacteristic move.

Theodosia bustled into the kitchen to scrounge a muffin while Drayton busied himself with a fresh pot of tea.

“Surprise him,” Drayton muttered under his breath. “I’d like to surprise that fellow, all right.”

Tidwell was already sipping his tea when Theodosia came back with a reheated muffin and small pot of peach jam.

“And this tea is . . .” said Tidwell, still not wasting any time on pleasantries.

“Earl Grey,” said Theodosia. “Taste the bergamot?”

Tidwell gave a perfunctory nod. “I do. And a hint of something else, too.”

“A touch of white tips,” said Theodosia. “Just to lighten things up.” White tips meant, literally, the white tips or most prized leaf of the plant.

“Excellent,” said Tidwell, finally uttering a positive word. “I take it this is one of your own special Indigo Tea Shop blends?”

“Drayton created it. He calls it Shades of Earl Grey.”

“Rather pleasant,” responded Tidwell.

Theodosia smiled patiently. She was getting used to these strange exchanges with the venerable detective. They so often started out adversarial then veered toward semi-politeness.

Tidwell dribbled a spoonful of jam onto his muffin. “Not that you’d be interested, Miss Browning, but there has been a report of another theft in your neighborhood.”

“Is that a fact?” said Theodosia. Play it cool, she told herself. He’s bursting to tell you, but if you ask him outright, he’ll probably clam up.

Tidwell shook his jowly head. “A rather expensive collectible disappeared last night from the Hall-Barnett House.”

Built in the mid-eighteen-hundreds and located over on Tradd Street, the Hall-Barnett House had first served as a convent and then a private home. Now it was a small museum, a period house, furnished with the trappings of the era and open to the visiting public.

“I only mention it to you,” added Tidwell, “because one of the items missing is a tea caddy.”

Theodosia stared at him. The tea caddy from the Hall-Barnett House was missing?

“Ah,” said Tidwell, noting her surprise, “you’re familiar with that particular piece?”

“Of course,” said Theodosia. “It’s a lovely tea caddy crafted from tortoiseshell and inlaid with ivory. It’s probably from the mid-eighteen-hundreds yet still in excellent condition.”

“Yes,” agreed Tidwell. “Worth quite a pretty penny, I’m told.”

Several thousand dollars, Theodosia thought to herself. “And it’s disappeared?” she said to Tidwell.

“That’s the strange thing,” replied Tidwell. “Mrs. Roman, the woman who was guiding the tours yesterday afternoon, swears she saw the tea caddy sitting in its rightful place on the fireplace mantel. Right before she locked up late yesterday.”

“Do you believe her?”

“No reason not to.”

“Then what do you suppose happened to it?” asked Theodosia.

Tidwell’s eyes burned brightly even as his face assumed a hangdog expression. “I suppose, Miss Browning, it could have caught the fancy of your cat burglar.”

“The Hall-Barnett House was broken into?”

“Let’s just say a window was open upstairs.”

Theodosia conjured up a mental picture of the Hall-Barnett House. Built completely of brick, it was tall and stately, fashioned in the Italianate tradition. Hard to clamber up the side of a brick building, though, she decided.

“Did the police find a ladder anywhere?” she asked. “Lying in the yard or stashed in the carriage house out back?”

“Nothing,” said Tidwell. “If I had to hazard a guess, although I prefer not to, I’d say your cat burglar probably scaled a nearby tree then made a rather heroic leap.”

“Why do you keep calling him my cat burglar?” asked Theodosia, somewhat testily.

“Because you were the first one to put forth the cat burglar theory,” said Tidwell. “Pray tell what’s wrong? Aren’t you pleased? Here I thought for sure that you’d be pleased.”

“No, of course I’m not pleased,” she cried out, and the frustration that had built up inside her for the past week suddenly began to explode. “Poor Drayton and Timothy Neville are worried sick about the public opening of the Treasures Show tomorrow night. Captain Buchanan was killed at the Lady Goodwood Inn... probably in an accident caused by this very same cat burglar. And now, because someone, presumably this cat burglar, stole Delaine’s watch and stashed it in Claire Kitridge’s desk, Claire stands to lose her job! So no, Detective Tidwell, I am in no way pleased. I am angry, frustrated, and worried beyond belief, but the very last thing I am is pleased!”

Drayton, upon hearing Theodosia raise her voice to Tidwell, suddenly grabbed a pot of tea and hustled over to their table.

“Everything okay here?” he asked as he approached.

“Fine,” said Tidwell, putting a chubby hand over his teacup. “No need for a refill.”

Drayton pointedly ignored Tidwell and focused his lined countenance squarely on Theodosia. “Are you okay?” he inquired.

Theodosia shrugged and her voice was slightly tremulous. “Yes. I’m just feeling... embroiled...in this rapidly unfolding cat burglar mystery.”

“I believe Haley needs you in the kitchen,” said Dray-ton. Now he shifted his gaze to Tidwell.

Theodosia waved a hand. “Haley’s fine, Drayton. She’s doing...I don’t know... the cake. Remember?”

“I am quite certain Haley is in need of your assistance,” repeated Drayton. Now his stare turned into a glower and Tidwell seemed to squirm just a bit under Drayton’s intense scrutiny.

“What’s the problem?” asked Theodosia, still not picking up on his cue.

“There’s a dire problem with the coconut,” said Dray-ton. “A question of toasting or not toasting, I believe.”

Now it was Tidwell’s turn to look mildly disconcerted.

Theodosia rose from her chair suddenly. “Forgive me, Detective Tidwell, but there is a pressing business problem I must attend to.”

“Very pressing, indeed. I understand,” he said and walked out.

“Are you all right?” asked Drayton as he pushed his way into the kitchen. “Because that detective seemed far more annoying than usual.”

“I’m fine, Drayton,” replied Theodosia. She was sitting on a stool, sipping a cup of tea. “But thanks for the rescue, anyway. I was pretty much at the end of my rope.”

“Glad to be of assistance,” said Drayton. He reached over and picked up a small plate decorated with purple flowers that was sitting on Haley’s small counter. “What’s this?” he asked.

“Remember the muffin plate I dropped the other day?” said Theodosia. “Along with the teacup?”

Drayton nodded. As he studied the plate, recognition dawned. “Oh. This is the plate that broke in half!”

“Haley fixed it,” said Theodosia.

“I superglued it,” volunteered Haley. “I was going to toss the pieces out, but after I saw the charm bracelet Brooke created, and how delighted Theodosia was at her reclaimed treasure, I decided to try a little glue.”

“It was very sweet of you, Haley,” said Theodosia.

“Not bad,” said Drayton, turning the muffin plate over. “You can hardly see the repair.”

“Thanks,” said Haley. “It turned out to be kind of a fun project.”

“We might have to tap your services for the Heritage Society,” grinned Drayton. “Put you to work in our restoration department. Maybe your talents run toward restoring old prints and photographs, too.”

“Speaking of the Heritage Society,” said Haley, “are you-all still going ahead with the opening tomorrow night?”

Drayton grimaced. “Yes, we are. Up until yesterday there were still nasty rumblings from the executive advisory committee about canceling or even delaying the public opening of the Treasures Show. But of course, Timothy Neville fought them tooth and nail. He’s quite adamant about adhering to his predetermined schedule. Don’t you know, all the invitations have been sent out and all the publicity done. So what else could Timothy do? Plus, he didn’t want to look like an alarmist. After all, this cat burglar fellow could have moved on, just like Detective Tidwell suggested.”

“He hasn’t,” spoke up Theodosia. “In fact, it seems there’s been another break-in. Tidwell just told me about it. That’s the reason I was so upset.”

Drayton put a gnarled hand to his head, rubbed his gray hair. “Oh, no. Did he mention where?”

“The Hall-Barnett House,” said Theodosia.

“Wow,” said Haley. “What was snatched this time?”

“An antique tea caddy,” said Theodosia.

Drayton and Haley just stared at her.

“Weird,” said Haley finally.

“So, like the shark with his territorial feeding habits, this fellow is still circling the neighborhood,” sighed Drayton.

“And it looks like he’s making tighter circles,” said Theodosia. “The Hall-Barnett House is just a couple blocks from here.”

Haley shuddered. “That feels a little too close for comfort.”

“This new information is absolutely appalling,” declared Drayton, fingering his bow tie nervously. “Who else

knows about this?”

“I honestly don’t know,” said Theodosia.

“If Timothy or the executive committee find out, they’ll for sure cancel the opening,” said Drayton glumly.

“Then don’t tell them,” piped up Haley.

They were all three silent for a moment.

“What if,” said Haley finally, “what if we could concoct some kind of scheme? Something that would trap this guy for good?”

“We already tried that,” snapped Drayton, obviously feeling dispirited and dejected.

“Not really,” said Haley. “The electronic devices you set up weren’t exactly a trap. You said yourself they were more of a security precaution.”

“Which didn’t work,” said Drayton with a dispirited air.

“Because the electricity went off,” offered Haley. “Not because you guys screwed up.”

The timer on the oven suddenly emitted a loud ding. Startled, Drayton gave a little jump, then watched sheepishly as Haley slipped an oven mitt onto her hand and opened the oven door. The two round cake layers looked perfect. Beautifully golden brown and pocked with tiny bubbles like the surface of a miniature moon. Smiling, Haley pulled the two pans of coconut cake from the oven.

“Perfect,” murmured Drayton as he gazed at the cakes.

Haley set the cakes to cool on the scarred wooden table. “You just said a mouthful, Drayton,” said Haley. “Because what you need this time is the perfect plan.”

He stared at her. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re jabbering about.”

Theodosia, deep in thought, suddenly spoke up. “Tell me, Drayton, what’s the most valuable object that the Heritage Society has in their collection?”

Sidetracked by Theodosia now, Drayton scratched his chin thoughtfully. “I don’t know. I suppose it would be a silver tray made by Paul Revere. The Calhoun family had it in their possession for ages until they donated it to us two years ago.” He threw Theodosia a dubious glance, as though he knew exactly what she was thinking. “But I hardly think Timothy’s going to allow us to use a valuable such as that for bait. Especially in light of how our efforts failed so miserably at protecting the Blue Kashmir in the European Jewel Collection.”

“Exactly,” said Theodosia. “Which means we’re going to have to pull something out of a hat.”

“What?” Drayton’s voice rose in a squawk. “What are you talking about?”

“And,” said Theodosia, “it’s going to have to be a very tasty little item.” She gazed at Drayton, her blue eyes sparkling, her enthusiasm suddenly back with a vengeance. “Drayton, your friend still writes the arts column for the Post & Courier, doesn’t he?”

Drayton nodded. “Sheldon Tibbets? Yes, he’s still doing a fine job of it. But I don’t see what—”

“Do you think you could persuade Mr. Tibbets to compose a special little blurb for us?” Theodosia said in a rush.

“I suppose I could,” said Drayton slowly.

“Excellent,” said Theodosia as her energy seemed to increase by leaps and bounds. “Because we’re going to take the liberty of augmenting the Heritage Society’s collection.”

Drayton narrowed his eyes. “What exactly do you mean by augment?” he asked.

Theodosia suddenly jumped down off her stool. “The three of us are going to come up with a glitzy, glamorous new objet d’art. Something that’s utterly irresistible to a professional cat burglar. And as the icing on the proverbial cake, you, my dear Mr. Conneley, are going to persuade your good friend, Sheldon Tibbets, to give our fabulous new collectible a big write-up in tomorrow’s paper!”

Drayton stared at her. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

“I couldn’t be more serious,” said Theodosia. What had Timothy Neville said to her just a few days ago? She racked her brain. Oh, yes, he said, “There’s no guarantee the disaster of last Saturday night won’t be repeated.”

“We’re going to deliver a guarantee!” exclaimed Theodosia. “A treasure so tasty and utterly irresistible that it’s guaranteed to attract every salivating cat burglar from here to Palm Beach!”

Drayton was shaking his head and his voice carried a dubious tone. “But what object could possibly do that?” he asked.

Theodosia thought for a moment, recalling an article about so-called investment collectibles that had run not too long ago in Business Week magazine. Let’s see, she thought, the article mentioned that sports memorabilia were very big today. As well as the ever-popular antiques and artwork. And gold coins. And what else?

Theodosia suddenly pushed her way through the velvet draperies back into the tea shop. Puzzled, Haley and Dray-ton followed in her wake.

Theodosia stood poised in the middle of the Indigo Tea Shop, her eyes wandering as her mind struggled to spin out a plausible scenario.

Something rare, she told herself. Intriguing, mysterious, with a huge intrinsic value. As her eyes continued to wander, they fell upon the display of teas that sat on one of the wooden shelves behind the old brass cash register. There was a huge selection. Boxes of loose tea from Higgins & Barrow Tea, as well as from Toby & Sons, and Chelsea and Worther.

Suddenly, her eyes focused on the box of Dunsdale Earl Grey Tea. It bore a delightful label, pale green with a heraldic crest surrounded by elaborate flourishes. In the middle was a silhouette of some nobleman. Perhaps, she surmised, the founding Dunsdale himself.

Inspiration suddenly hit her.

“How about a postage stamp?” suggested Theodosia.

Drayton blinked. Any enthusiasm he seemed to be mustering suddenly drained out of him. “Theodosia, I’m sorry but I’ve been collecting postage stamps for almost thirty years and the rarest one I have is an 1861 two-cent Andrew Jackson with a double transfer on the top left corner. A delicious specimen, to be sure, but not quite in the lofty realm of rare stamps. Not in the ranks that might attract the attention of a cat burglar, anyway.”

Theodosia smiled placidly as Drayton continued.

“And Timothy Neville’s been collecting stamps for over forty years and the rarest piece in his collection is a block of four 1851 twelve-cent Washingtons.” Drayton paused and pursed his lips, thinking. “We’d have to come up with something far, far better than those if we really wanted to tantalize our thief.”

“Like what?” asked Haley.

Drayton thought for a moment. “The Pony Express collection is worth a fortune. But I can’t imagine where we’d lay our hands on a set.”

“What about a one-cent Z grill?” asked Theodosia.

Drayton stared at her. “The 1869 Benjamin Franklin with the Z grill background? Are you kidding?” he snorted. “Nobody’s got a one-cent Z grill.”

“Aunt Libby does,” said Theodosia with sudden calm. Aunt Libby had inherited a very fine stamp collection from her grandfather, Theodosia’s great-grandfather.

“Really?” squealed Haley. She grabbed for Drayton’s arm, ready to do a little dance. “A Z grill!” She hopped up and down, did a quick shuffle, then stopped suddenly. “What’s a Z grill?”

“An exceedingly rare philatelic specimen, that’s what it is,” said Drayton. He peered at Theodosia and cocked his head in disbelief. “Really? Your Aunt Libby has one?” Now he sounded like Haley. Incredulous.

Yes, Theodosia mused to herself, a rare postage stamp would be perfect. Stamps in general were escalating in value, sometimes even outpacing other collectibles. Besides, rare stamps were portable, easy to hide, and relatively easy to cash in. They were an easy sell to private collectors, who were often compulsive about completing their prized collections. Who knows, a rare stamp might even be the perfect bait to lure a cat burglar.

Drayton was still looking eagerly at her, waiting for an answer. “You’re quite sure it’s a Franklin Z grill?”

Theodosia nodded and a slow smile spread across Dray-ton’s face. “Yes,” he murmured, “that’s the ticket, then. A stamp so rare perhaps only a handful of top collectors know about it or have even seen one.”

“What’s the story?” asked Haley. “Why will it be on display?”

Theodosia thought for a moment. “We’ll say it’s part of Drayton’s collection.” She gazed at him, liking the sound of it. “Will that make good enough fodder for a newspaper article?” she asked.

“I’ll call Sheldon Tibbets now,” Drayton told her.