Theodosia Browning is taking a break from being the owner and manager of the Indigo Tea Shop for a day to serve as a bridesmaid for her friend Delaine Dish, who is marrying attorney Dougan Granville. The wedding day, however, is getting off to a bad start. Delaine's maid of honour is late, and the city of Charleston is being battered by an unprecedented storm.
Theodosia does her best to keep Delaine calm and keep the wedding on track, but this proves to be an insurmountable task when the groom turns up dead. Delaine knows that Theodosia has a knack for successfully investigating various issues throughout the years, and she begs her bridesmaid to solve the murder of the man who was very nearly her husband. Although Theodosia is reluctant to do so at first, she slowly but surely gets pulled into sleuthing around, and she finds that there's much more than meets the eye with this late attorney.
Dougan's law partner is being less than forthcoming with Delaine about the will. Could it be that their business partnership gave him a motive to kill Dougan before he got married? Theodosia visits Dougan's ex- girlfriend (who attended the almost-wedding) to get some information on their relationship and Dougan's former drug use, only to find out that she had motives for wanting Dougan dead. And finally, the ATF is investigating Dougan's cigar store on suspicion of illegally importing Cuban cigars.
While she's sorting all of this out, Delaine lets Theodosia know that Dougan's house was part of a garden tour. As his house is next door to the Indigo Tea Shop, Delaine "suggests" that Theodosia can prepare his house, including providing refreshments. And to top it all off, a ghost hunting team from a reality television show wants to take film Theodosia visiting the crime scene.
Although the murder took place in the very beginning of the book, it took awhile for this book to really grab my attention, which I think had a lot to do with both Theodosia's reluctance to get involved with solving Dougan's murder and Delaine's bratty behaviour. Although it's understandable that she was grieving after Dougan was killed, she was painted in a very unsympathetic light from the first pages of the book, and nothing ever happened to make me root for her after that. Although I typically appreciate a book full of suspects and motives, SWEET TEA REVENGE felt overcrowded with them, and it felt as if more than one served as the proverbial red herring. The final piece of criticism I have is one I cannot share without revealing a plot spoiler, but it has to do with the true culprit and the reveal.
I typically enjoy this series, though, and I will continue to read it in the hopes that SWEET TEA REVENGE was a minor stumble in what is usually a very charming series with warm, inviting characters.
Theodosia flew down the narrow hallway and rapped on the
door of Dougan Granvilleβs suite. βDougan, itβs time,β she
called out. Theodosia knew he was a hard-driving attorney
who was probably working right up until the last millisecond.
Nothing. No movement, no answer.
Theodosia leaned forward and put an ear to the door.
Maybe he was . . . slightly indisposed? Could it be that he
really was a nervous bridegroom?
βDougan? Mr. Granville? Itβs Theodosia. Weβre all
waiting for you.β
Still nothing.
Wondering what protocol she should observe for
something like this, Theodosia hesitated for a few moments.
Then decided it didnβt much matter. Guests were waiting,
the bride was waiting, it was time to get moving. She
gripped the doorknob and turned it, then pushed the door
open a good six inches.
βDougan,β Theodosia called again, trying to inject a
little humor in her voice. βWe have an impatient bride
whoβs waiting for her handsome groom.β
There was no sound, save the monotonous drumming of
rain on the roof and the gurgling of water as it rushed
through the downspouts.
Theodosia pushed the door all the way open and stepped
across the threshold.
βDougan?β
The room was completely dark and ominously quiet.
Straight ahead, she could just make out a faint outline of
heavy velvet draperies pulled across a bay window.
Did Granville fall asleep? He must have. Wow, this is
one relaxed guy on his wedding day.
Shadows capered on the walls as she stepped past a
looming wardrobe and pieces of furniture. The room had a
strange electrical smell, as if an outside transformer had
exploded. Theodosia tiptoed across the carpet, her silk
mules whispering softly. When she reached the foot of the
bed, she stared. A tiny bedside lamp shone a small circle
of warmth on a battered bedside table, but there was no one
lying on the bed. Nothing had creased the dusty pink coverlet.
What on earth?
Flustered, nervous now that they might have a runaway
groom on their hands, Theodosia fumbled with the curtains
and ripped them open. Lightning flashed outside, a sharp
blade cutting through a wall of purple-black clouds.
Still, this is better. A little more light.
Just as Theodosia turned, something caught her eye. A
fleeting image that she couldnβt quite process but one that
unnerved her anyway. She slowly retraced her footsteps.
Back to the sitting room area that had been in total
darkness, as thunder boomed like kettle drums in some unholy
symphony.
Thatβs when she saw him.
Dougan Granville was sprawled on a brocade fainting
couch. His eyes were squeezed shut, his head had fallen
forward until his chin rested heavily on his chest. On the
small glass table in front of him was an empty glassine
envelope and a scatter of white powder.
Theodosia tiptoed closer, her heart hammering in her
chest, her brain shouting screams of protest. An unwanted
shot of adrenaline sparked by surprise and fear had sent her
blood pressure zooming. Still, she was mesmerized,
hypnotized, at what she was seeing.
Was Granville just stoned? Or . . . something worse?
Theodosia moved closer and stretched out a tentative
hand. The very tips of her fingers brushed the pulse point
of his neck. Granville felt ice cold and lifeless. There
was no pulse, no respiration.
Revulsion and fear rose up inside her like sulfurous
magma from a roiling volcano. Theodosia understood,
logically and viscerally, that Granville hadnβt just fainted
on this fainting couch like genteel ladies of old.
This man was seriously, catastrophically, dead.
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