Surprise, surprise, even two of Theodosia’s grapevine wreaths were snatched off the wall and sold. One wreath decorated with miniature pink teacups and woven with pink ribbons and pink straw flowers, the other a much larger wreath with full-sized teacups, silk flowers, curling ribbons, and small silver tea charms.
“I’d say this has been a wildly successful event for us,” Drayton said to Theodosia. They were both standing behind the counter, he tallying up final bills and cashing out the last of the customers, she securing a bone china teacup in Bubble Wrap.
“Anytime we have an event tea it helps fluff the bottom line,” Theodosia said.
“Well, consider it fluffed to the tune of more than eleven hundred dollars. I know we have to minus out food costs and overhead, but still . . .”
Theodosia squeezed his arm as she snicked past him. “Still . . . it’s darn good business.”
* * *
* * *
Headed back to her office, Theodosia had a bee in her bonnet and an idea whirring in her brain. Ever since Echo had mentioned Harvey Bateman’s involvement as a liquor wholesaler, she’d been even more curious about him. And even though curiosity had killed the proverbial cat, Theodosia was generally in the mood to take a few risks. So she dialed Riley’s number, hoping to entice him into giving her a small assist.
After their opening hey-how-are-you’s, Theodosia got right to the point.
“You know I’ve been snooping around, asking questions about the Lemon Squeeze Couture partners, right?” she said.
“I’d rather not know what you’re doing behind Sheriff Burney’s back,” Riley said. “Whatever it is, it’s probably illegal.”
Theodosia took a deep breath and continued. “The thing is, I’ve come across some information concerning Harvey Bateman.”
There was silence for a few moments, then Riley said, “What would that be?”
“I learned that Bateman has his sticky fingers in the wholesale liquor business.”
“And you want to know—what?” Riley asked.
“Whether it’s true or not,” Theodosia said.
There were a few more seconds of silence where Theodosia swore she could hear Riley’s wheels turning.
Finally, he said, “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to check. I’ve got a buddy in the OC division, so let me see what dirt I can dig up and call you back.”
“You’re the best,” Theodosia said.
“No, Theo, this is no ordinary gimme,” Riley said in a faux-serious voice. “For this information you’re going to owe me big-time. I’m talking a fancy dinner featuring your famous pork tenderloin with Carolina Reaper sausage and mustard sauce. And a good bottle of wine to cap it off.”
“Okay. Deal.”
Back in the tea shop, Theodosia grabbed a plastic tub and began clearing dishes off tables.
“You don’t have to do that,” Miss Dimple said. “I can manage.”
“I know you can. I just like to, you know, keep busy.”
Miss Dimple smiled. “I’ve noticed that.”
Five minutes later, true to his word, Riley called back.
“What did you find out?” Theodosia asked. “Does Bateman have a record?”
“Well, you were right,” Riley said, though he didn’t sound particularly happy about it. “I don’t know how you figured this out—and I probably don’t want to know—but Harvey Bateman has been kind of a bad boy.”
“Tell me,” she said.
“He was arrested six years ago under the Interstate Commerce Act.”
“What does that mean exactly?”
“Seems Bateman was caught bringing in a truckload of liquor that didn’t have the appropriate paperwork and tax stamps. Uncle Sam frowns on that sort of thing, and the South Carolina Department of Revenue regards it as a major no-no.”
“So what happened?”
“Bateman slipped out of it. He must have a damn good attorney because he’s been able to get out of a few other things. Let’s see, there was a fuzzy charge concerning guns, handguns not long guns, but the prosecutor dropped the charges because there wasn’t enough evidence.”
“Guns,” Theodosia said. “That’s kind of interesting. Why wasn’t there enough evidence?”
“No witnesses, I guess,” Riley said.
“No witnesses or witnesses afraid of reprisals?” Theodosia asked.
“I don’t know. Listen, Theo, it looks as if this guy Bateman is one bad dude. Even though he claims to be in the fashion business now, which seems fairly benign, you don’t want to go poking around him.”
“I’ll be careful, I promise.”
“That’s not the answer I want to hear,” Riley said. When she didn’t respond, he said, “I mean it. You need to stop any kind of investigation right now.”
“Then will you look a little deeper into Bateman’s activities?” Theodosia asked.
“Yes, I will.”
“Promise?”
Riley sighed. “Theo, you’re incorrigible.”
“I know. Sorry.”
“And don’t forget about the pork tenderloin dinner you owe me.”
“Dinner. Right.”
“What was all that about?” Drayton asked as she hung up the phone.
“It seems Harvey Bateman has a record,” Theodosia said.
“You mean a criminal record?” Drayton’s brows rose like a pair of furry caterpillars. “What on earth did he do?”
“Something concerning illegal liquor and guns.”
“Holy Hannah, that sounds serious.”
“As if Nadine’s murder wasn’t serious enough?”
Drayton popped a lid off a tin of tea and said, “You know what I mean.”
“Okay, sorry. I didn’t mean to be snappy.”
“No, that’s okay. It shows that you care. That you’re concerned. Just please don’t be more concerned about others than you are about yourself.”
“Words to live by,” Theodosia said.
Miss Dimple sidled up to the counter and handed Theodosia a sheet pan stacked with strawberry scones. “Compliments of Haley. But do you think we’ll get much of a crowd this afternoon for tea?”
“There are always a few folks who wander in,” Theodosia said.