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Theodosia still felt strangely unsettled this Tuesday morning as she bustled about the Indigo Tea Shop. She’d had weird dreams all night long. Some involved Martin Hunt; others featured Adam Lynch, whom she’d yet to meet. The upshot of her dreams was that those two men had been skulking outside Jamie’s apartment, peering in as she took a look around. Then the images turned muddy, faded, and were no longer there. But when she rushed across the street, the pavement feeling like sticky molasses, to investigate the car (still dreaming now), the vehicle had magically disappeared in a puff of purple smoke.

Theodosia shook her head and allowed herself a faint smile. Just too much stress mingled with too much Halloween on her mind, she decided, though the days were still building toward Charleston’s big Halloween bash on Saturday.

“Did you do anything with the skull and Sorel boots we found in Jamie’s apartment?” Drayton asked when Theodosia came to the counter to grab a pot of Tregothnan tea, a blend of black tea and Assam that a table of guests had requested.

“I dropped them off at Riley’s office. But now that I think about it, in the cold, clear light of day, the boots are probably just a strange coincidence.”

“Okay.”

Theodosia raised a single eyebrow, one of her unique talents. “That’s all you’re going to say?”

“No, I wanted to ask you about someone else.” Drayton reached up and grabbed a tin of silver needle tea. He tapped the top of it with an index finger. “I know this is going to sound strange coming from me, but have you done an online search to see if Adam Lynch is still working as a website developer?”

“That’s a smart idea and one I wish I’d come up with myself,” Theodosia said. She glanced around the tea shop, where six tables of guests were enjoying morning tea. “In fact, I’ll check right now, if you can handle things for a few minutes.”

“Child’s play,” Drayton said.

Theodosia delivered her pot of tea, then scurried down the hallway, pushing aside the celadon green velvet curtain that separated the back office and kitchen from the tea shop. She ducked into her office, fully cognizant that it was a messy affair and would probably stay that way for some time. Between favors and decor for upcoming event teas, and a holiday giving season that was fast approaching, her office was piled with boxes of tea strainers, teacups and saucers, jars of honey, and her own proprietary brand of T-Bath products—all lotions and potions that were infused with actual tea. She picked her way past stacks of TeaTime and The Tea House Times magazines and slid into her desk chair. Then her fingers were flying across the keyboard in search of Adam Lynch’s website.

Which was a snap to find.

His splash page was a series of red-and-purple animated graphics with the headline The Lynch Mob and beneath that Stunning Websites from Concept to Code .

Nicely done , Theodosia decided. She’d spent several years at a marketing firm, so she had more than a working knowledge of what was needed to create effective TV spots, print ads, and online advertising. She immediately went to the Menu and clicked on Projects , which took her to a dozen websites that Lynch and his team had created.

Let’s see now…

Adam Lynch and his Lynch Mob crew had created websites for Southern Federal Bank, Alabaster Software, Lewin’s Sportswear, Ricky’s Automotive and Tire, Cotton Duck Boutique (yes, she knew about that), and…

What? The cemetery crawl? No way.

Theodosia stared harder. Yes way. It wasn’t just her imagination playing tricks on her; Lynch had actually created a website for the cemetery crawl. The splash page had a shifting green-and-purple background with images of ancient tombstones fading in and out. The headline said A Walk Among the Tombstones , with the subtitle Rub Shoulders with the Ghosts and Spirits of Old Charleston .

Heels clicking like castanets, Theodosia hurried back into the tea room to tell Drayton about this. She found him measuring tea into a pink Shelley Duchess teapot.

“Drayton,” she said almost breathlessly, “guess what website Adam Lynch created?”

Drayton, a confirmed Luddite, cocked his head like an inquisitive magpie and said, “I couldn’t possibly guess.”

“Lynch did the website for A Walk Among the Tombstones.”

“No?”

“Yes,” Theodosia said. “Can you believe it?”

“Well, if he’s skilled at what he does…”

“He’s got talent, that’s for sure. But Lynch creating that website, it feels a little too close for comfort.”

“The Cemetery Historical Society is just another client.”

“Maybe so, but I’d like to know more about this guy. After all, his temper is supposedly so off the charts that he knocked Bettina’s tooth out.”

“Are you thinking of paying him a visit?” Drayton asked.

“I wasn’t, but now you’ve given me another good idea.”

“Just be careful.”

“You know I will.”

Drayton shook his head. “I don’t know that. You have a strange habit of disregarding any sign of doom or danger. Even when it’s staring you in the face.” He was about to continue his warning when the phone rang.

Drayton picked up the phone, listened, and said, “Yes, she’s right here.” He handed the phone to Theodosia. “For you. A Charlie Skipstead?”

Dang it, the podcast lady. I wonder what she wants. Wait, I know what she wants.

She clutched the phone and said, “This is Theodosia.”

“Theodosia, this is Charlie Skipstead. Remember me? I do the Charleston Shivers podcast.”

“I remember,” Theodosia said. Do I ever. Charlie Skipstead was constantly upbeat and always talking a mile a minute. Theodosia wondered if the woman ever paused long enough to take a breath.

“I’ve been dying to get you on the air, and this seems like the absolutely perfect time!” Charlie said. She was another one, like Delaine, who talked in italics and exclamation points.

“Because…?”

“Because of the murder at that wedding you catered! Or should I say, you were supposed to cater. I’ll wager that, after that terrible accident, you’ve been doing some investigating on your own. It’s what you do best, after all.”

“Well, I…I suppose I am looking into a few things.”

Charlie laughed. “By ‘looking into things’ you mean running a shadow investigation, right? Interviewing any and all possible suspects?”

“Um, maybe.” Why am I such a bad liar? Theodosia wondered.

“Sure you are, and my listeners would love to hear all about it. When can we get together? How about this coming Thursday afternoon, does that work for you?”

“That soon?”

“Why not?” Charlie said. “We’ll do our interview live in studio, but I’ll also tape it and archive it.”

“So our interview will always be out there in the netherworld? Whirling around for anybody to listen to?”

“Sweetie, that’s basically the point of a podcast,” Charlie said. “You listen when you want to listen, when you have time. So this Thursday, okay? Meet me at Air Supply Studio over on Bogard Street at three o’clock and we’ll take it from there.”

“Right,” Theodosia said. “See you.”

“What was that all about?” Drayton asked.

“Podcast.” Theodosia wasn’t sure how much to tell him.

“It’s that crazy mystery podcast lady, isn’t it? I’ll bet she wants you to go on the radio…”

“Not the radio, a podcast.”

“Whatever…and spill your guts about how you’ve been investigating Celeste’s murder.”

“I’d reference it more as a mysterious death.”

“And here you promised me you’d be careful,” Drayton said. “That you wouldn’t rush in where angels fear to tread.”

“You worry too much,” Theodosia said.

“And you, my dear, don’t worry enough.”

* * *

Right on the dot of ten thirty, Miss Dimple arrived, ready to help out in the tea room. She was Theodosia’s freelance bookkeeper, who loved nothing more than to put on an apron and serve tea.

“Pouring tea is lots more fun than poring over columns of numbers,” Miss Dimple had told Theodosia. And so she was asked to help out whenever there was an event tea. Like today.

“What are we celebrating?” Miss Dimple asked Theodosia. She slipped out of her pink chenille sweater, hung it on the brass coatrack, and put on a black Parisian waiter’s apron.

“We’re having our Under the Tuscan Sun Tea,” Theodosia said.

“You’ve never done an Italian-themed tea before, have you?” She pronounced it Eye-talian .

“We’ve mostly stuck to British Teas, Chocolate Teas, Downton Abbey Teas, and Sugarplum Teas. So this will be a first for us.”

“Smart that you keep branching out,” Miss Dimple said.

Barely five feet tall with pink cottony hair, Miss Dimple looked like your sweet old granny but was so skilled with numbers and spreadsheets she could have been a bookkeeper for the mob.

Approaching the front counter, where Drayton was brewing tea, she sang out, “Top of the morning to you, Drayton.”

“Welcome, dear lady,” Drayton said in his courtliest manner. “We’re delighted you’re able to step in and assist us.”

“Always happy to help,” Miss Dimple said.

“And how are the cats?” Miss Dimple had two Siamese cats.

“Purr-fectly lovely,” Miss Dimple giggled. Then she turned serious. “You have some tea for me to deliver?”

Drayton pushed two pots of tea across the counter. “The Moroccan mint in the Brown Betty teapot is for table two. The white teapot goes to table six. But kindly tell them their tippy Yunnan needs to steep another two minutes.”

“Got it,” Miss Dimple said as she grabbed the two teapots and toddled off.

* * *

Theodosia was stocking her highboy with tea towels and mini bamboo strainers when Sabrina Haynes walked in. She looked around the tea shop, saw Theodosia, and gave a quick wave.

Theodosia hurried over to greet her. “Sabrina, hello. How nice to see you again.”

“I have news,” Sabrina said. “Celeste’s visitation is set for tonight at Strait’s Funeral Home over on Calhoun Street.” Sabrina’s eyes misted up as she touched a hand to her heart and said, “It begins at seven. And I sincerely hope you’ll come.”

“Absolutely,” Theodosia said. “Drayton and I were both planning to be there.” She glanced over at Drayton, who was busy cashing out a guest. “Do you…do you have time for a cup of tea?”

“I would love a cup of hot tea, preferably something strong.”

Theodosia glanced over at Drayton again as he finished at the register. “Drayton?” She was pretty sure he’d been listening. Drayton had a knack for multitasking.

“I have a pot of English breakfast tea brewing right now,” Drayton said.

“Come sit down.” Theodosia led Sabrina to the small table by the stone fireplace, where they both took a seat. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“We’ve been staying in touch with law enforcement,” Sabrina said. “Sheriff Ambourn and his investigators as well as Charleston PD. Both agencies have been fairly diligent about keeping us up-to-date on the investigation.”

“Any news?” Since they’re not telling me anything.

“Mostly they’re still conducting interviews. But on the plus side, I found out that you were looking into things.”

“Oh, I’ve just been asking around,” Theodosia said, trying to downplay her role.

“That’s not what Bettina told me. She said you’re hot and heavy into your own investigation. That you’ve done this kind of thing before.”

“Well…some,” Theodosia said.

Drayton was suddenly at their table with a pot of tea. “Don’t let Theodosia fool you,” he said, giving Sabrina a knowing wink. “Theo has actually solved a number of crimes. You might say she’s Charleston’s very own Nancy Drew.”

“Thank you for the tea, Drayton,” Theodosia said. She was uncomfortable being the topic of conversation.

“Don’t mention it,” Drayton said as he strolled back to the front counter.

“If I can help in any way,” Sabrina said. “If you have questions, please don’t hesitate to call me, okay?”

“Sure.”

“In fact, I…” Sabrina stopped, lifted a hand, and waved it in front of her face, looking suddenly indecisive.

“What were you about to say?” Theodosia asked.

“This is going to sound super weird,” Sabrina said. “But I was actually thinking about consulting a psychic about Celeste’s death, someone who has the ability to intuit things. Since the police haven’t made any great strides, maybe they could lend some guidance and insight.” Sabrina stopped, a stricken look on her face. “Oh dear, that must sound totally idiotic to you. Like I’ve completely gone off the rails.”

“Not at all,” Theodosia said. “It’s so strange that you should bring this up, because we’re having our Victorian Halloween Tea tomorrow and we have a psychic coming in.”

Sabrina’s mouth dropped open and her eyes got large. “For real?”

“Her name is Madame Aurora and she does tarot card readings as well as intuitive readings on people.”

“She sounds perfect!” Sabrina enthused. “Could you…I mean, is it possible to arrange for a private session with this psychic after your Halloween tea?”

“I’m sure we could make that happen.”

“And I’ll bring Bettina and Delaine along. Maybe your psychic could give some guidance and insight to all of us.”

“You’re sure you want to include Delaine?” Theodosia asked. “Last time Delaine had her tarot cards read she completely flipped out. Worried that her boyfriend du jour was going to dump her.”

“Okay, maybe not Delaine.”

Theodosia thought for a minute. “No, Delaine should be part of this. You should all be included. Because…you never know what could happen.”

* * *

Glancing around the tea shop, Theodosia decided she still had time before she had to start decorating for today’s luncheon. So she ran into her office and called Riley. She figured Riley might have an update on the investigation, plus she really wanted to tell him about Adam Lynch—about how Lynch had been physically abusive to Bettina.

“Hey,” Riley said when he answered the phone. “How are you?”

“Busy,” Theodosia said. “But I need to talk to you about a couple of things.”

“Why does that not surprise me?”

“Listen, what I have to say is going to surprise you.” Theodosia took a breath and dove in. “Before Bettina was engaged to Jamie, she was engaged to a guy named Adam Lynch, who’s a website designer.”

“Bettina was engaged before? I didn’t know that.”

“It gets better, or should I say worse. Because Adam Lynch was abusive to Bettina.”

“What’d he do?”

“When Bettina refused to take him back, Lynch hit her and knocked out one of her teeth.”

“Did she call the police? Or get a court order against him?”

“I don’t think so,” Theodosia said.

“Sounds like she had just cause.”

“You’ll get no argument from me.”

“Adam Lynch is the man’s name? Let me look into this,” Riley said. “See if maybe a report was filed.”

“Did you get the boots I dropped off this morning?” Theodosia asked.

“I got your little bag of tricks and had one of our guys take a look. The Sorel boots were no match to the footprints we found behind the greenhouse.” Riley paused. “Where did you find those boots anyway?”

“At Jamie’s apartment.”

“What!” Riley practically exploded with surprise. “What were you doing there?”

“Just taking a look around,” Theodosia said.

“Holy cats, you are investigating,” he chided.

“Well, not officially.”

“What did I say about you being in danger?”

“You said I might be in danger. You didn’t say it was imminent.”

“Theodosia…” Riley’s voice dripped with disapproval.

That’s when Theodosia decided she’d better not tell him about the dark car that had been idling across the street last night. It’d just cause him even more unhappiness.