Shades of Earl Grey

Chapter 2

From a scene that seemed to unfold in slow motion, activity suddenly accelerated with warp speed. Police and paramedics arrived to load Captain Corey Buchanan onto a gurney and hustle him out to a waiting ambulance. A sobbing Camille Cantroux was aided to her feet by Theodosia and Drayton. Then Delaine, shell-shocked and shaking, led her away, presumably to follow the ambulance to the hospital.

The rest of the party goers pressed through the double doors into the Garden Room. They crunched across glass, gaping at the enormous hole in the ceiling and talking in hushed tones about the horrible turn of events.

At one point Theodosia was aware of Cooper Hobcaw arguing with Frederick Welborne, the manager of the Lady Goodwood Inn. Hobcaw’s once-elegant suit was now dripping wet. He had apparently run out into the street to flag down the ambulance and guide the paramedics to the nearest entry.

As he loudly harangued poor Frederick Welborne, the man looked as though he might suffer a heart attack on the spot.

Cooper Hobcaw’s slipped into his role as lawyer, Theodosia thought to herself. Probably talking about liability and personal injury suits. She decided she wouldn’t want to be in Frederick Welborne’s shoes tonight. No way, no how.

“I can’t believe this,” wailed Haley. She was pale and shivering. “Do you think Captain Buchanan will be okay?”

Theodosia pulled Haley aside and out of the way of the gawkers. “It doesn’t look good,” she told her in a quiet voice.

Haley bobbed her head rapidly, obviously experiencing more than a little stress. “That’s what I was afraid of. Oh, that poor, poor man, did you see the glass sticking out of...?”

Drayton put a hand on Haley’s shoulder. “Shhh . . . it’s okay. Try to calm down.”

Haley stared at him with sadness in her eyes. “But it isn’t okay,” she whispered. “Theo thinks he might be dead!”

“We’ll phone the hospital later and see what news there is,” said Drayton. He kept his voice calm and soothing, and his reassuring tone seemed to work on Haley, seemed to calm her down considerably. “Delaine and Camille went on to the hospital,” he added, “so we’ll be able to speak with them later and see what’s going on.”

“We need everyone to exit this room, please!” rang out a loud, authoritarian voice. Cooper Hobcaw stood in the doorway, gazing imperiously at the crowd. When he seemed to command everyone’s attention, he clapped his hands together loudly. “Please, we need you-all to leave . . . immediately!”

The crowd seemed to hesitate for a moment, torn between their fascination with the terrible accident that had just occurred and doing what they knew was the proper thing. Then, slowly, people began to depart the room.

Cooper Hobcaw watched as the crowd trickled past him, then strode over to the head table where Theodosia, Drayton, and Haley were still gathered.

What once had been festive and romantic now seemed macabre. The head table had been set with enormous bouquets of white roses and elegant sterling silver candlesticks. Now, one bouquet was knocked over, another completely flattened by a pane of falling glass. Candles had been knocked out of their holders, dishes lay spoiled and broken. Only the large silver teapot and matching cream and saucer pieces seemed to remain unscathed. Set on a matching oval tray, the tea set lent the only hint of normalcy to the entire table.

“Miss Browning, may I have a moment?” Cooper Hob-caw asked. “I...I need your help.”

Theodosia turned to Cooper Hobcaw, concern on her face. “Of course,” she said.

“This may seem a strange thing . . .” Cooper Hobcaw hesitated. “. . . but Delaine is terribly concerned about the wedding ring. Strangely enough, it appears to be... missing.”

“Yes,” said Theodosia. “I noticed that, too.” She had immediately seen that the wedding ring was no longer nestled in the black velvet ring box that had been prominently displayed at the head table. The ring must be . . . where? she wondered. Had it been knocked out of the ring box and now it was under one of these tables? She looked around at the terrible chaos. Probably.

“Since you are such a dear friend to Delaine,” Hobcaw said, “could I impose upon you to . . .”

“You’d like us to stay here and search for it?” Theodosia finished the sentence for him.

Cooper Hobcaw’s face seemed to sag with relief. “Yes,” he said. “Would you?”

Drayton suddenly jumped feet-first into the conversation. “Of course we will,” he said graciously. “You go on to the hospital and lend what support you can to Delaine and Camille. We’ll stay behind and find that ring. Don’t worry about a thing.”

Cooper Hobcaw clutched Drayton’s hand and pumped his arm mightily. “Thank you, thank you so much,” he said. Then he grabbed Theodosia’s hand and did the same. “You are a dear lady,” he told her, then strode quickly out of the room.

Theodosia turned toward Haley. “Haley, why don’t you go home now.”

“You don’t want me to help?” she asked, her eyes still wide with concern. She still seemed rather jumpy.

“No need,” said Theodosia. “I’m sure the ring simply rolled under one of these tables.” She looked around the Garden Room, noting what an absolute mess it was.

“Okay,” said Haley, relief palpable in her face, “but call me the minute you find something out about poor Captain Buchanan, okay?”

“We’ll do that,” Drayton assured her.

With the Garden Room empty of guests, Theodosia and Drayton stared at each other, unsure of where to begin.

The rain had thankfully let up, but the room was a soggy mess with glass and debris scattered everywhere. In the paramedics’ haste to extract Captain Buchanan, they had rolled towels about their hands then shoved the larger hunks of glass aside. Smaller pieces had been ground under the wheels of the gurney and now glistened dangerously.

“The ring must have just rolled out of the box, don’t you think?” said Drayton. He sounded positive, but looked a trifle dubious.

“I assume it did,” replied Theodosia. “I think if we pull up the edges of these tablecloths, we’ll probably find it soon enough.”

But ten minutes of searching high and low, looking under tables, sliding back chairs, revealed nothing. Frustrated, Drayton found a broom and poked through the rubble. Still nothing.

“On top of one of the tables then?” said Drayton. He had removed his jacket and now his shirt was partially untucked and his bow tie hung askew. Theodosia had never seen him looking so frazzled.

“Maybe,” Theodosia told him.

This time they sorted through all the table settings, pawed through the damp table linens and wrecked floral centerpieces, and rearranged all the wrapped gifts that lay in a soggy, bedraggled pile on the gift table. Still no ring.

“This is very strange,” said Drayton. “I would have sworn the darn thing would turn up. A little thing like that couldn’t have rolled all that far.” He furrowed his brow and scratched his head, the picture of complete bewilderment.

“Do you think one of the guests might have picked it up?” he asked aloud, then gave a mumbled answer to his own question. “No, they were all good friends. Friends of Delaine’s, friends of Camille and Captain Buchanan’s. If someone found the ring, they surely would have said something.”

Theodosia, meanwhile, had turned her attention to the gaping hole in the glass ceiling. The rain had completely abated and now there was just darkness and roiling clouds overhead.

Drayton saw her staring up at the ceiling and followed her gaze. “Do you think the roof just gave way?” he asked.

“I suppose it did,” she said slowly, still staring upward. “It was an old greenhouse, after all. From before, when the Lady Goodwood used to raise their own orchids and camellias to pretty up the rooms and create centerpieces for the dining room.” Theodosia paused, thinking. “Maybe it was hit by lightning. There was that enormous flash.”

“It was positively cataclysmic,” agreed Drayton.

Theodosia put her hand on the back of a wooden chair, dragged it across the sodden carpet until it was positioned directly beneath the jagged hole in the glass roof. She put one foot on the upholstered seat cushion. “Drayton, give me a boost up, will you?”

Drayton stared at her as though she’d lost her mind. “Good heavens, Theodosia, just what do you think you’re going to accomplish?”

“I want to take a look at this greenhouse ceiling.”

“Yes, I assumed as much. What I don’t understand is why.”

“Stop acting like a parliamentarian and just help me, would you?”

Drayton steadied the chair with one hand, extended his other hand to help Theodosia as she climbed up. “Don’t I always?” he muttered, affecting a slightly pompous attitude.

“Darn,” said Theodosia from above.

“What?”

“I can’t really see anything. I’m not up high enough.”

“Good. Then kindly hop down before you break your neck.” Drayton moved to assist her and glass crunched underfoot. “This is dreadful,” he declared. “Like walking on the proverbial bed of nails.”

“You folks okay?” called a voice from across the room.

Drayton and Theodosia spun on their heels to find an older man in a gray jumpsuit staring at them. By the looks of the man’s outfit, he was one of the inn’s janitors.

“We’re fine,” said Theodosia. “You’re from maintenance?”

“Yup,” he nodded. “Harry Kreider, at your service.”

“Would you by any chance have a ladder, Mr. Kreider?” asked Theodosia. “I’d like to take a peek at this ceiling.”

“You from the insurance company or something?” he asked.

“No,” she replied. “Just very curious. I was a guest here tonight.” She raised a hand, indicated Drayton. “We were both guests.”

Harry Kreider cocked his head, assessing her request. “Certainly was a terrible thing,” he said. “I was sitting home watching reruns of NASCAR racing on TV when they called and told me the roof collapsed on some poor man.” He paused. “You ever watch NASCAR?”

“No,” said Drayton abruptly and Theodosia rolled her eyes at him.

“Yeah, I s’pose I could get you a ladder,” the janitor said slowly, scratching at his jowly cheeks with the back of his hand. “Storage closet’s just down the hall. Be back in a moment.”

“Thank you,” said Theodosia. “We really appreciate it.”

“What is this about?” asked Drayton as they waited for the janitor to return with a step ladder. “What exactly are you looking for?”

“Not sure,” said Theodosia.

“Well, you’re up to something.”

There was a clunk and a thwack as the janitor angled a twelve-foot ladder through the double doors, scraping them slightly. He eased the ladder in on its side, then, when he’d caught his breath, set the ladder up directly beneath the gaping hole.

“I’m sorry about this,” Drayton said to the janitor.

“No problem. Got to rig up a temporary patch for this hole anyway. Can’t have the rain coming in again. Whole place’ll be damp by morning otherwise. That darned humidity just steals in and chills you to the bone. Gonna have to seal off this whole wing, I s’pose.” The janitor gazed at the mess ahead of him and sucked air through his front teeth. “You two go ahead and take your look up there while I rustle up some tarps. Just don’t fall off that darn thing and break your neck. There’s been enough trouble here for one night.”

“I’ll be careful,” Theodosia assured him as she scampered up the ladder.

“Please be careful,” said Drayton as he stood below, clutching the ladder.

Theodosia climbed to within two steps of the top, put a hand gingerly on the metal strut that ran the length of the greenhouse roof. It felt solid and stable. It was the glass that had seemingly crumpled and given way.

She stuck her head up through the hole. The roof, or what was left of it, was still slick and wet from the earlier downpour. Light from below glowed faintly through it. Okay, no surprises here, Theodosia decided.

She felt beneath her with her right foot, took a step back down. Now she was eye level with the tangle of glass and metal. She reached out, flicked at a small oval-shaped piece of metal that hung there. It was weathered looking, once silvery, like the rest of the pieces.

“See anything?” Drayton called from below.

“Not really,” she said.

“Then kindly come back down.”

Theodosia began her climb back down.

“Here,” said Drayton, grabbing for her hand once she was in reach, “let’s get you back on terra firma.”

Theodosia stood next to the ladder, looking thoughtful. “Drayton, let me ask you something. What if someone had their eye on Camille’s wedding ring?”

Drayton’s eyes widened as he caught the gist of what she was suggesting. “You think someone might have been up there? That this wasn’t just an accident?”

“I’m not sure,” said Theodosia. “Let’s just suppose for a moment that a thief was prowling about . . .”

“Camille’s ring would make quite a prize,” he said slowly.

Theodosia’s eyes flicked over the head table, where the silver tea set gleamed from the wrecked table top. “And the silver?” she asked.

“That’s lovely, too,” he agreed slowly. “Queen Anne style. Don’t quote me, but I believe it was crafted by Jacob Hurd in the mid-seventeen-hundreds. And of course, it’s been in the Goodwood family for ages. You see that engraved cartouche on the body of the teapot?”

Theodosia nodded.

“That’s the family crest. A heraldic shield on a bed of roses.”

“So besides Camille’s ring, which I believe Delaine told me had been valued at something like seventy grand...”

“Seventy grand!” exclaimed Drayton. “Good gracious.”

“And all this silver would have been worth a good deal of money, too,” ventured Theodosia.

Drayton nodded briskly, far more familiar with appraisals on antiquities than he was with jewelry. “Oh yes. The teapot alone might fetch ten or twenty thousand dollars. To say nothing of the creamer, sugar bowl, and that magnificent tray.”

“Okay, then,” said Theodosia, “follow my line of thinking for a moment, will you?”

Drayton cocked his head to one side in an acquiescing gesture.

“What if someone was scrambling across the top of the roof . . .” she began.

“It would have to be someone very skillful and limber,” he said, gazing upward. “There are only those struts for support, everything else is glass.”

“I agree,” said Theodosia. “But it can be done. A case in point: the man who cleans my air conditioner does it every spring in my attic.”

“Walks across the narrow wooden struts,” said Drayton.

“Yes,” said Theodosia. “But maybe tonight this person, whoever he was, got caught off balance. The storm, the pouring rain, a nearby lightning strike spooked him or unnerved him. Or maybe it was just terribly treacherous up there. Anyway, somewhere along the way, his foot just happened to slip.”

They both gazed up at the gaping hole.

“And he came crashing through into the Garden Room,” said Drayton.

Theodosia pointed to the remains of an elaborate pulley system that hung from the ceiling. “You see that chain and pulley right there? This roof was meant to crank open. It was designed that way back when it was a working greenhouse, before they pulled out the old wooden tables and sprinkler system and turned it into the Garden Room. But I imagine the system still works. You could still open the roof...”

“Someone scampered across the roof,” said Drayton, still trying out the idea. “With the idea of making off with the ring and maybe even the silver. But instead, this person came crashing down on top of poor Captain Buchanan.”

“Yes,” said Theodosia, “that might explain the first crash we heard.”

“And the second crash?” asked Drayton.

Theodosia hesitated. “I’m not entirely sure. But if someone crashed through the roof, wouldn’t they have to go back up through it?”

“How?” he sputtered.

“I have no clue.”

“Folks?” called the janitor. “Is one of you a The-odosia?” He pronounced the name slowly and phonetically.

“That’s me,” said Theodosia.

“Phone call,” said the janitor.

Theodosia and Drayton hurried out to the lobby, where Mr. Welborne was talking excitedly with two staff members.

“I have a phone call?” she said.

The woman behind the front desk indicated a small, private phone booth just down the hallway.

Theodosia seated herself on a small round stool that was covered with a needlepoint cushion and picked up the receiver.

It was Cooper Hobcaw calling from the hospital. He spoke clearly but rapidly for a few minutes and Theodosia listened carefully. Afterward, she thanked him, then hung up the phone.

She stood, drew a deep sigh, and turned to Drayton. “He’s dead,” she told him sadly. “Captain Buchanan is dead.”