"stimulating blend of suspenseful plot, quick witted repartee, macabre moments, tender romance"
Reviewed by Audrey Lawrence
Posted February 9, 2011
Mystery Cozy
Drayton Conneley, supporter of the Charleston's Heritage
Society in South Carolina and master tea blender at the
Indigo Tea Shop, was also skilled at brewing up his own
alliances. So, despite being swamped with all the details
that needed to be done before hosting her own "Tea and
Cheese" function during the prestigious Charleston Food and
Wine Festival, the lovely Theodosia Browning agrees to
spend her Sunday night before a very busy week going to the
Heritage Society's "Pirates and Plunder Gala".
Drawn to the many wonderful and eerie objects, Theodosia
let her imagination flow as she was steeped in the many
stories of pirates, like Blackbeard and others, who now
long dead, still left their mark and colorful stories of
their swashbuckling days in early Charleston. Still, the
scream of panic she heard was definitely not in her
imagination and Theodosia fearlessly rushed to its source.
Despite her quick action, a young man lay dying, the exit
door alarm was ringing and the glass display case shattered
and empty.
As the police did their work, Timothy Neville, the crusty
octogenarian Director of the Heritage Society, wanted
Theodosia, with her quick witted ways of sleuthing, to see
what she could dig up. With the help of her employees, the
young and very talented chef and baker Haley Parker and
Drayton, Theodosia serves up scrumptious fare while
following a whiff of a clue. But, with this on her plate,
can she sniff out the clues before the killer clues into
her plans?
Just as the young and hip are flocking to discover
tantalizing teas today, so too will the many fans of Laura
Childs, seasoned and new, enjoy this new addition to her
Tea Shop Mystery Series. SCONES & BONES, the twelfth book
in this series, is a delightful treat with its careful and
stimulating blend of suspenseful plot, quick witted
repartee, macabre moments, tender romance and some slightly
barmy characters added for zest. So, cozy up for a cuppa
and enjoy this wonderful read! If you're lucky, you will
try the recipes as well!
SUMMARY
Savor the latest from the
New York Times bestselling
author of The Teaberry
Strangler.
Indigo Tea Shop owner Theodosia Browning is
lured into attending the Heritage Society’s “Pirates
and Plunder” soiree. But it’s an antique diamond
skull ring that gets plundered by someone who
murders a history intern in the process. Theodosia
knows she’ll have to whet her investigative skills to
find the killer among a raft of suspects.
ExcerptA smirking human skull, all hollow eye sockets and
pronounced parietal bones, grinned diabolically at
Theodosia. A second skull,
this one with crooked teeth clenched in an agonized
grimace, wasn’t quite as
mirthful.
"Some of these images are a little bizarre," Theodosia
murmured to Drayton.
"Jolly Roger flags were meant to frighten," Drayton
replied. "The pirates who flew them wanted their designs
to inspire fear and
dread."
Theodosia took a step backward and gazed at the
diverse
collection of antique pirate flags that hung inside the
shallow glass case.
There were skull and crossbones, full-sized skeletons, even
skeletons dancing a
jig.
"Actually," said Theodosia, a smile twitching the
corners of her mouth, "they’re just the kind of thing
today’s graphic designers
and tattoo artists would groove on."
It was Sunday night at the Heritage Society in
Charleston, South Carolina, and the grand opening of the
Pirates and Plunder
show. Theodosia Browning, proprietor of the Indigo Tea
Shop, had been cajoled
into attending the event by Drayton Conneley, her master
tea blender and all
around Heritage Society booster.
"Take a look at this drinking cup," said Drayton,
nudging her with the shoulder of his tweedy jacket. "It’s
the one that was
featured in the Charleston Post and Courier’s arts and
entertainment section a
few days ago."
Theodosia moved to a free-standing glass display
case
to gaze at what was certainly a bizarre curiosity - a
genuine human skull that
had been transformed into a drinking cup. The cranium had
been pared away, a
silver web surrounded the skull on four sides, and a silver
handle jutted out.
But the piece de resistance was the enormous diamond
snugged beneath the skull’s
chin. A diamond that, to Theodosia’s curious eyes, had to
weigh at least ten
carats, if not a whopping twelve.
"This piece was owned by a pirate as well?" Theodosia
asked. She pushed back her tousle of auburn hair and bent
even closer to get a
good look. Set on a black velvet cushion, the skull cup
was horrifying,
sensational, and awe inspiring, all at the same time.
"I assume this bizarre little beauty belonged to a
pirate," said Drayton, "though a diamond of such magnitude
was no doubt plucked
from the necklace or bracelet of some hapless noble woman
who ventured onto the
high seas." He straightened up and gave a quick smile.
"Gives new meaning to the phrase, killer diamond,"
Theodosia responded. She could just imagine standing on
the foredeck of one of
his majesty’s clipper ships, bound for Charles Town and a
new life in the New
World. Then gray mists parted, a giant black galleon rose
up, and screaming
pirates bore down upon you. Grappling hooks clamped the
rails, murdering brigands
swung on to your ship to . . .
Theodosia shook her head, aware her over-active
imagination had carried her far, far away, into a
different, high adventure
realm. Then again, Theodosia looked like she might have
slipped in from an
earlier century. Her abundance of auburn hair could have
inspired Raphael, her
fair English skin seemed tempered by the cool, rainy
weather of the Salisbury
Plain. Theodosia’s blue eyes sparkled with barely
contained energy and her
face, with its high cheekbones and full mouth, was agile
and expressive.
Theodosia never bothered to keep a tight rein on her
passions, whether they be
ire or mirth. She wore her heart and her feelings on her
sleeve and crashed
through life at full tilt.
Drayton slipped on a pair of tortoise shell half
glasses and inclined his dignified, graying head. "Let’s
read the description
card for this oddity," he mumbled to himself. He was a
sixty-something history
buff who loved nothing better than to delve into the
provenance of an obscure
object.
"What’s it say?" asked Theodosia. She smiled to
herself at Drayton’s bounding enthusiasm. He was an almost-
partner, dear
friend, and quirky sidekick. Not necessarily in that
order.
"Whoa ho," said Drayton, nodding his head with approval.
"This wasn’t just owned by a pirate, it is a pirate!"
"Excuse me?"
"Says here it’s reputed to be Blackbeard’s skull."
Drayton took a step backward and blinked in surprise. "My
goodness."
"Are you serious?" said Theodosia. Blackbeard was,
after all, the big daddy of pirates. A man with dozens of
grisly legends
attached to him and a fierce and fascinating character
who’d entertained and
inspired for practically two centuries.
Growing up in Charleston and the surrounding low-
country,
Theodosia had heard endless tales about the swashbuckling
pirates and brigands
who’d plied the Carolina coast right up until the
nineteenth century. Many had
roamed all the way from South America up to Canada,
terrorizing merchant and
passenger ships and enjoying a wild, freewheeling life on
the high seas. Some
had been captured by U.S. naval ships and met their fate on
a gallows just a
few blocks from here, on the Battery near White Point
Gardens. Of course, the
gallows was long since gone, while the gardens were now a
frothy riot of
magnolias and dogwood.
"I had no idea Timothy possessed such an amazing
collection of pirate memorabilia," said Theodosia. Timothy
Neville was the
director of the Heritage Society, a crusty octogenarian who
had a knack for
twisting donor’s arms and a keen, calculating memory that
could recall exactly
which old skeletons lay in uneasy repose in which
Charleston attics.
"Although the Heritage Society owns a few of these
pieces, most are actually on loan," Drayton
explained. "Cajoled from antique
dealers and private collectors."
"Really quite spectacular," said Theodosia, leaning
forward to admire gold doubloons that spilled from an old
wooden chest, a
parchment map that depicted the Carolina coasts and
shipwreck locations, and
other maps that hinted at where treasure might still be
buried. And, of
course, there was that ubiquitous collection of pirate
flags.
"I’m also told," said Drayton, "that this show was
inspired by one of the curators stumbling upon an
interesting stash of pirate
memorabilia in the downstairs storage rooms. Items they
didn’t even realize
were in their possession!"
"This show really does have the wide appeal of a museum
blockbuster," said Theodosia. "I mean, who doesn’t like
pirates?"
"They are fascinating," agreed Drayton.
"Blackbeard and Bluebeard," said Theodosia. "And
Captain Jack Sparrow." She chuckled as she glanced
around. Though Theodosia
had been immediately swept up in pirate legend and lore,
most of the guests
here tonight seemed much more focused on the champagne and
hors ‘d oeuvres that
was being served by tuxedoed waiters out in the great
hallway.
As if to underscore her thoughts, a piercing shriek
suddenly echoed through the almost-empty gallery.
"Good grief!" said Drayton.
Theodosia and Drayton turned in unison to find
Delaine
Dish and her crazy sister, Nadine, running playfully toward
them. Close on
Nadine’s heels was Bill Glass, the scummy editor of an even
scummier weekly tabloid
known as Shooting Star.
"Theodosia!" Delaine demanded, in her strident,
pay-attention-to-me voice, "you’re missing all the fun!"
Delaine was the owner
of Cotton Duck clothing boutique and a confirmed social
gadabout. With her
heart-shaped face, swirl of dark hair, and piercing eyes,
Delaine was a
striking beauty. Yet her appeal was undermined by her
abrasiveness and
constant need to know.
"You’re missing the show," Drayton replied in a curt
tone.
Delaine gave a clumsy shrug, splashing a few drops
of
champagne onto her pale yellow suit. "Oops. Clumsy me,"
she said, obviously a
little tipsy.
Nadine, who was dressed in a bright purple suit,
giggled loudly. "Maybe you should give us a quick lecture,
Drayton. After
all, you’re on the board of directors here."
"Yeah," said Bill Glass, gesturing offhandedly at one
of the displays, "tell us about these crazy black and white
flags."
"The Jolly Roger," said Drayton, pulling himself to full
height, "is derived from the French phrase jolie rouge
meaning pretty red."
But they really weren’t listening. Instead, Delaine
had her nose pressed tightly against a glass case, gazing
starry eyed at a
glittering array of gold doubloons.
"Pirate’s booty," she murmured.
At which point Bill Glass slung his arm around
Nadine’s
waist and gave a wolfish grin. "This is my idea of
booty!"
This was followed by shrieks of uproarious laughter
from both Delaine and Nadine.
That did it for Drayton. Disorder and double
entendres
in the hallowed halls of the Heritage Society were high
treason to him. He
clenched his jaw so tightly the muscle quivered and his
brows shot up. With a
stoic yet pained expression, he turned to Theodosia and
said, "Time for a
refreshment?"
Theodosia immediately agreed. "My thought
exactly."
"A terrific show," Theodosia told Camilla.
"Very impressive," offered Drayton.
Camilla Hodges, the Heritage Society’s office
manager-slash-secretary- slash-membership director gave an
appreciative smile.
"Thank you," she said, "it took a fair amount of work to
pull this off."
Camilla was fifty-something with a waft of bluish hair and
thighs that were
permanently encased in Lycra. She was also enveloped by a
constant cloud of
perfume. But always a classic scent, like Shalimar by
Guerlain or Joy by Jean
Patou.
"You received some great publicity, too," said
Theodosia. Before she stepped off the business merry-go-
round to become chief
bottle washer and proprietor of the Indigo Tea Shop,
Theodosia had worked as
an account executive in a large Charleston marketing firm.
She’d waged
constant war to snag her fair share of publicity and
newspaper articles, so she
knew how important the photo and accompanying blurb in the
Post and Courier had
been for the Heritage Society.
"Thank you," said Camilla, raising her champagne glass
and clinking it against Theodosia and Drayton’s
glasses. "Now that our
budget’s been snipped yet again, I think they’ve added the
title of PR director
to my already long list of responsibilities."
"Well, you did a masterful job," said Drayton.
Camilla reached out and grabbed the arm of a young
man
who was standing nearby and pulled him into their
circle. "This is Rob
Commers," she told them. "One of our history interns and
all around good guy
who pretty much functioned as my right hand man."
Rob, a string bean, earnest-looking college kid who
couldn’t have been a day over twenty, blushed furiously.
"You’re getting your degree in history?" Theodosia
asked him.
"I am," said Rob. He had short, cropped dark hair and
long dark eyelashes, the kind Theodosia would have killed
for. "And since I’ve
been interning here, I found out how much I don’t know."
He gave a rueful
grin. "Which means I should probably go on for my
Masters."
"Nothing wrong with that," said Drayton.
"Rob was an enormous help in organizing this show,"
Camilla continued. "He did a fantastic job at handling the
mailing list and
invitations."
"It worked," said Theodosia. "Because you got a great
turnout." Indeed, they were standing elbow to elbow in the
great hallway.
"I just wish more guests were looking at the displays,"
said Camilla. Her brows puckered in a frown and she
shrugged. "What can you
do?"
"I’m afraid it’s see and be seen," said Theodosia.
Much as she loved Charleston, it was largely populated by
social animals.
Folks who wanted to go out, rub shoulders with others, be
recognized, and get
their photo in the society section. Nothing wrong with
that, of course, except
for the fact that you could end up rubbing shoulders with
the same old
shoulders week after week.
"Maybe we could somehow cajole a few guests to take a
quick peek in the gallery?" suggested Drayton.
"Better wait until Delaine and Nadine come out," said
Theodosia. Then she caught sight of Delaine’s heart-shaped
face and flashing
blue eyes and said, "Oh, here she comes now."
"What if we turned down the lights in the gallery?"
suggested Rob. "Make it a little more sexy and
inviting."
"Not a bad idea," said Theodosia. "Just have the
overhead pinpoint spots on." She recalled the spectacular
jade exhibit in
Chicago’s Field Museum where the lights were positively
cocktail lounge low.
But the moody, intimate atmosphere packed visitors in like
crazy.
Camilla grabbed Rob’s elbow and said, "We’ll be
back in
a minute. As soon as we find the rheostat."
"We’ll save you a lobster roll," said Drayton, eyeing
an approaching waiter who carried an overflowing tray of
appetizers.
"And maybe a cream cheese wonton," said Theodosia, as
the waiter stopped and tilted his tray toward them.
"Fantastic!" exclaimed Drayton, helping himself to a
small, golden roll.
"Better yet," said Theodosia, grabbing a bright blue
toothpick, "I’m going to have one of these lovely pink
shrimp." But just as
she stabbed a giant cooked shrimp, there was a loud shatter
of glass followed
by a blood-curdling scream!
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