Reading Between the Leaves

Reading Between the Leaves

Book II

The Tea Cozy Mysteries series

By Miss J.S. Devivre

Copyright ©2016 J.S. Devivre

All rights reserved.

This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Published by E. Gads Hill Press

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PREFACE

After the fatal grand opening of AntiquiTeas, Penelope Price’s antiques shop and tearoom in 1920s Pacific Grove, CA, she’s ready to give it another go. The disastrous first outing saw Penelope charged with murder, and resulted in the birth of the Tea & Sympathy Investigative Agency.

Not only was Penelope eventually exonerated, but she forged some solid friendships throughout the ordeal. She even found romance.

Just when life seems to be settling down, she finds herself embroiled in another murder case—this time, involving someone close to her.

Set against the backdrop of the Suffrage Movement, this second installment in the Tea Cozy Mysteries series sees Penelope and her female detectives take on the town’s movers and shakers, while doing some shaking up of their own.

Join Penelope and Zara as they learn the truth and face the facts, by reading between the leaves.

Contents

Chapter One – In a Pinch

Chapter Two – While You Were Steeping

Chapter Three – All the Tea in China

Chapter Four – Rabid Cake

Chapter Five – The Truth About Dan’s Death

Chapter Six – War Painting

Chapter Seven – Soup & Cinema

Chapter Eight – Doused!

Chapter Nine – A Nightcap Recap

Chapter Ten – The Rebel in Black

Chapter Eleven – The Safe Safe

Chapter Twelve - Closed

Chapter Thirteen – The Junction of Dinner & Main

Chapter Fourteen – Good Leaves Gone Bad

Chapter Fifteen – Molto Bene

Chapter Sixteen – The Night of Tears

Chapter Seventeen – A Splash of Color

Chapter Eighteen – Jailhouse Fox Trot

Chapter Nineteen – Girl Talk

Chapter Twenty – Fireworks & Dominoes

Chapter Twenty-One – Six Sharp

Chapter Twenty-Two – Kisses All ‘Round

Chapter Twenty-Three – Stampede

Chapter Twenty-Four – Death Behind the Dumpster

Chapter Twenty-Five – The Unthinkable

Chapter Twenty-Six – Back in Business

Chapter Twenty-Seven – Complications

Chapter Twenty-Eight – Off the Menu

Chapter Twenty-Nine – Revelations

Chapter Thirty – 間違い (The Mistake)

Chapter Thirty-One – Back for More

Chapter Thirty-Two – Making Connections

Chapter Thirty-Three – Stung

Chapter Thirty-Four – August 18th, 1920

Point Pinos Picnic Clam Chowder Recipe

The Author & Acknowledgements

The Tea Travellers Societea

Chapter One – In a Pinch

Penelope knew she should have dispensed with her corset, but she couldn’t resist wearing it given the auspiciousness of the occasion. Of all the moments in her newly eventful life, this was the one to which she’d looked forward most.

In the few months since arriving in Pacific Grove she’d gone from having never dared dream of running her own business to spearheading two or three, depending on how one looked at them, and all were about to celebrate their opening day. Not bad for a gal who just a few weeks prior was living in a jail cell—a fabulously decorated jail cell, mind you—on suspicion of murder.

She’d already endured one false start when launching her AntiquiTeas venture, a combination antiques store and tearoom. The day of her original Grand Opening was when her new cook, Dan Cooper, one of the most lovable men in town, was found dead in her shop’s water closet. Shortly thereafter, she was arrested as the primary suspect.

At the time, Police Chief Walter Harrison’s unresolved animosity toward Penelope’s deceased Aunt Dorothea—the antiques store original owner—had rendered the chief all too eager to pin the crime on Penelope. But he and Penelope put that unpleasantness behind them and had been on warm terms ever since.

The present morning would see the kick-off of not only AntiquiTeas, but The Tea and Sympathy Investigative Agency Penelope had started with her girlhood best friend, glamorous flapper Zara. It was due to their sleuthing efforts that Dan’s killer was caught. Throughout their investigation they’d learned a good deal about the townsfolk, the bulk of their intel being of the incriminating variety. Penelope had no desire to pry into the private lives of her neighbors, but a few select topics begged for further scrutiny, especially the town’s secret society, the Bohemian Club. Then there was the matter of Hank Edwards, the handsome handyman who had captivated Penelope and who was a riddle in and of himself.

All of these mysteries would have to wait until the ribbon was cut and Penelope had posed for the press. This was her moment, and she’d earned it.

Zara knocked on the AntiquiTeas office door and poked her head in. You ready, P?

Penelope nodded and stood, smoothing her skirt before walking out to face the crowd that had assembled for the occasion—or at least for the free food that would be served. As she strode through the tearoom and antiques store out to the sidewalk, she glanced through the windows and gulped when she noted the mayor and members of the city council in attendance. Judge Houston, who had graciously exonerated her of murder, stood in the front row, and Chief Harrison leaned against a tree nearby, casually conversing with Hank. The sight of Hank elicited a sharp gasp of excitement that caused her corset to pinch her ribs, and she was forced to stop, holding her side while trying to get oxygen into her lungs.

What did I tell you about wearing that thing today of all days? Zara scolded, holding the handle of the front door, ready to open it for Penelope, the woman of the hour.

Penelope made a start to answer, but had not yet caught her breath. As she stepped out onto the sidewalk, her tearoom and sleuthing assistant, Stella, noticed her arrival first.

There she is! Stella called out.

Once again, Penelope tried to speak, but found she did not have the air requisite to produce words. Fortunately, Pacific Grove’s mayor had more than enough to say for both of them.

Friends, we come here today to pay homage to a woman who has shown us all what it means to be a Grover. Her courage and determination to see justice prevail have not only brought peace to Daniel Cooper’s family—may he rest in peace—but uncovered a criminal element that had been hiding in the bosom of our fair city. Why, I recall, as a lad growing up here two score years ago—

Get on with it! someone shouted from the crowd.

Yeah, we’re getting hungry! another added.

Perhaps we should wrap things up, Arthur, the town’s grand dame, Florence Morgan, suggested. The sun is beating down ferociously on these poor souls.

Very well, Florence, the mayor said. Whereas, Miss Penelope Price has shown uncommon valor, whereas she has assisted the constabulary in substantial ways, whereas—

Whereas we’re sweltering out here! another complained.

And so on and so forth, I, Arthur Cranston Collins, mayor of Pacific Grove, do hereby proclaim the seventh of May in the one thousand nine hundred and twentieth year of our lord to be AntiquiTeas and Tea and Sympathy day, and furthermore—

Cut the ribbon already!

And thus, with the town’s officially sanctioned shears—

Arthur, please, Florence said.

Snip.

The deed was done.

The throng rushed the door, all looking forward to getting out of the unseasonal heat and into AntiquiTeas where the complimentary refreshments awaited. Zara was ready for the onslaught and stood guard at the beaded curtain separating the tearoom from the antiques boutique. Stella pushed her way through the crowd to seat people as Zara directed. Stella then joined Ruby, a waitress from the local Butterfly Café, in passing around glasses of frothy punch.

Once everyone was seated and relatively quiet, Florence Morgan stood up to offer a toast.

Attention everyone, Florence has something to say, shouted Elsie Davies, the town’s gossip bloodhound and Culture Columnist for the Butterfly Bugle newspaper.

Is everyone present, Miss Price? Florence asked.

Yes, I think so, Penelope replied.

Vincent’s not here, Stella said, referring to her boyfriend who worked at the local police department and who’d helped with the preparations for that day’s event as well as the ill-fated first grand opening weeks earlier.

Go fetch Mr. Caruso, Miss Parker. We shan’t start without him, Florence said.

Stella nodded and ran to the kitchen to find Vincent.

Miss Price, won’t you join me? Florence said, inviting Penelope to stand beside her.

Tell us, Miss Price, Elsie Davies began, a flower-tipped pencil poised over her notepad. What can my readers expect from AntiquiTeas now that you’re finally open for business after that crippling tragedy?

Penelope breathed in slowly, then opened her mouth to speak.

Murder! He’s been murdered! Help! Stella screamed, running into the room, her porcelain complexion gone ashen.

Not again, Penelope whispered, collapsing into a chair.

P! Zara admonished, grabbing Penelope’s hand and making a beeline toward the office.

Chapter Two – While You Were Steeping

Zara and Penelope arrived at the office to find Hank blocking the door and embracing Stella who was sobbing hysterically. Hank’s expression was one of heartbreak.

Penelope looked past them and saw Vincent collapsed with his head on the office desk. No … this is not possible … not Vincent. Please God, not Vincent.

Stella wailed.

Chief Harrison wordlessly entered the room to find Vincent insensible.

Caruso, he said firmly.

There was no response.

It’s no use. I shook him and shook him. He’s dead I tell you! Stella blubbered.

Chief Harrison grasped Vincent’s wrist, searching for a pulse. After several seconds he looked up, shaking his head.

The news traveled through the crowd.

Walter, what could’ve happened to him? Zara asked.

Chief Harrison shook his head again, inspecting Vincent’s physiognomy for injuries or evidence of foul play. I don’t get it, he said. Miss Zara, do you have a compact?

He needs a doctor, not makeup! Stella snapped. He’s gone two minutes and already you’re powdering his face for the funeral?!

Penelope put an arm around the distraught girl as others crammed into the small office, collectively weeping and ogling.

Zara produced an exotic palm-sized box and handed it to Chief Harrison. After grappling with the mirror, he opened it and held it up to Vincent’s face. He then returned the compact to Zara and said to her, A glass of ice water, please … lots of ice.

Your thirst can wait! Stella yelled, escaping Penelope’s hold and railing her fists on Chief Harrison’s chest. How can you be so indifferent! Don’t you even care he’s dead?!

I’ll get it, Penelope said, walking briskly to the kitchen.

A moment later she returned with the glass.

Stand back, folks, Walter said.

The mob gasped and retreated. The chief then poured the glass over Vincent’s head.

Aaaaagggggghhhhhh! Vincent shouted, jumping up in shock.

You jerk! Stella said, punching him hard in the bicep.

Ow! What was that for? And what are you all doing here? Vincent asked, looking around at the roomful of gawkers.

I thought you were dead! Stella said, punching him again.

I guess I must’ve dozed off, Vincent said, yawning.

That’s one way to put it, Zara said.

But you had no pulse. Walter checked, Penelope said.

Vincent smiled. I’ve always been like that—some hooey about having a thick epidermis or something—drives the nurses crazy whenever I go in to give blood. His smile faded. Say, shouldn’t you all be outside? Isn’t it nearly time for the grand opening to get started?

Stella raised her fist to slug him again, but was thwarted by Hank.

Chief Harrison called out to the group who’d huddled around the office’s entrance. False alarm, folks. Everyone’s fine. Let’s all head back to our tables … You too, Caruso.

The crowd chattered its way back into the tearoom, followed by Vincent who dripped his way over to where Stella stood.

What do you have to say for yourself, young man? Florence Morgan demanded of Vincent.

Gee, I’m sorry for all the fuss, Mrs. Morgan. I haven’t been sleeping much lately, what with school, working at the station, and helping out here … I guess it must’ve caught up to me.

Vincent, I insist you get a good night’s sleep tonight. Is that clear? Florence said.

Yes, Ma’am, Vincent said.

Your attention, please, Florence said. "I believe it is safe to say that this is the most exciting business enterprise in town. The assembly chuckled. Before another major mishap occurs, I would ask you all to join me in cheering on Miss Penelope Price as both AntiquiTeas and the Tea and Sympathy Investigative Agency officially open their doors. May you all have ample occasion to visit the former, and nary an occasion to employ the latter."

The crowd chuckled again, and Florence gestured toward Penelope to speak.

Thank you, Mrs. Morgan. If you all don’t mind, I think I’ll cut my remarks short before someone else screams.

All chuckled once more, much to Penelope’s bewilderment insomuch as she’d not spoken in jest.

She continued. Before we start in on the refreshments, I would ask that we bow our heads in memory of Daniel Cooper, to whom this day is dedicated.

The room went silent, save the sounds of soft sobs from the table of Lily Cooper, Dan’s widow.

After a moment, Penelope spoke. Tea will be served directly, and then some delectables inspired by Dan. Bon appetite and welcome.

All applauded. Penelope froze where she stood, unsure as to what to do after successfully delivering her opening comments. Zara grabbed her by the hand and pulled her toward the kitchen.

No time to rest on your oratory laurels. Someone has to dish out the food, Zara said.

Vincent’s new school chums, J.J. and Greg, dashed in just then and huddled in the tea preparation cubicle with Vincent to perform their duties as volunteer tea valets.

Sorry we’re late, Greg said, cocking his head toward J.J. "Someone just had to play another game of craps."

I was on a roll! J.J. said, plunging a scooper into a canister of tea and depositing half of it into a silver teapot as the other half scattered across the countertop. I don’t know how you talked me into this, Caruso.

Sure you do, Vincent said. To ogle all the talent.

Oh yeah. Good point, J.J. said, eyeing the young ladies in the crowd and paying no attention to where his scoops of tea were going. You get a load of that flapper in the fringey black dress? Whew, gets a man’s blood to boiling.

You hear that, Caruso? Greg teased.

Huh? Yeah, sure. Go get her, J.J., Vincent said off-handedly, focusing on measuring out tea leaves.

Sounds like Caruso’s giving you his blessing, Greg snickered. Better strike while the iron’s hot. Greg shooed J.J. away, still chuckling as he prepared a pair of teapots and waited for them to steep.

J.J. adjusted his tuxedo jacket and slicked back his hair then strode out into the dining room, precariously carrying a sloshing not-yet-steeped teapot in one hand. Vincent filled his teapot with boiling water and wiped up J.J.’s mess while waiting for the leaves to brew.

A cry of Ow! came from the tearoom, and Vincent and Greg chuckled, recognizing J.J’s voice.

Sounds like he struck out, Vincent said.

More like he was struck! Greg said with a grin.

The three boys roamed the dining room, emptying their teapots into rapacious customer’s cups, then reconvened in the server’s area and prepared the second of many rounds of tea.

She nearly broke my thumb! J.J. complained. And she made me spill scalding tea on my hand, the harpy! Pretty or not, she’s a pistol.

Vincent looked up, his brow furrowing in dread. Just which girl are we talking about?

That one, J.J. said, pointing at Stella. She had a few choice words to say about you, by the way.

Oh I bet she did. Vincent winced, catching the eye of Stella, his sweetheart of two years whose angry glare burrowed through his eyes and seared his brain. I love you, he mouthed to her, using hand gestures to get across his meaning.

She had a gesture for him as well—a finger slashing across her throat.

Uh, what about Ruby, the girl from the diner? Vincent suggested. She’s nothing to sneeze at.

She’s pretty too, but come on, a waitress at a diner? I have standards, Caruso, J.J. said, looking down his nose. Besides, she has eyes only for Collins here, he added, thumbing toward Greg. Isn’t that right, Collins.

Very funny, Greg said. You know as well as I she doesn’t even know I exist. But no matter, my heart and soul belong to another.

You mean a hot-blooded heart actually beats beneath that chaste bookworm chest? Vincent jibed.

It does for her, Greg said, nodding toward Zara.

Vincent snorted. Ha! Good luck with that.

Laugh all you want. She’s the only woman I’ll ever love, Greg said, sighing and gazing at Zara. "She will be mine one day—one way or another."

J.J. chortled. Like a mouse such as yourself could ever land a goddess like that dame. Besides, she’s sweet on Caruso’s boss who just so happens to be your dad’s buddy.

A man can dream, can’t he? Greg said.

A man can dream all he wants as long as he keeps the tea flowing, Vincent said, toting another steeped pot of fragrant leaves. Come on. The natives are starting to fidget.

Chapter Three – All the Tea in China

Back in the kitchen, mild mayhem threatened to derail the proceedings. The items meant to be hot were room temperature, and the items meant to be cold were even warmer. Stella and Ruby stood quietly, having learned early on that uttering a sound could cause Penelope to dissolve into a forgetful panic.

Owing to the success of her unorthodox family-style presentation of courses when Florence Morgan first brought a group in for a test tea the day after Dan Cooper’s death, Penelope tried to repeat the feat, this time with the addition of ornate silver serving tongs. While the Aga and Kelvinator warmed and chilled the comestibles, Penelope punctiliously decorated a dozen platters with fresh flowers, herbs, and fruit. As long as she stuck to the fanciful recipes left by Dan, she knew she’d be successful.

The first items to go out were the hot canapés: sourdough rounds topped with a cheddar-bacon-onion mixture, miniature crab tarts, and mushroom caps stuffed with bleu cheese and walnuts.

Next up were the cold hors d’oeuvres: cherry tomatoes filled with shrimp and watercress mixed with a lemon-basil aioli; green grapes rolled in goat cheese and minced pistachios, arranged in clusters with grape leaf adornments; and apple slices topped with sharp cheddar shavings and pomegranate seeds.

The last of the savories were the tea sandwiches presented on multi-tiered silver trays: turkey with blackberry cream cheese; paper-thin cucumber slices with dill butter; rosemary pecan chicken salad served on brioche; and egg salad made with onion, celery and a dash of Dijon mustard.

As the trays made the rounds and diners helped themselves to the delicacies, a low murmur made its way through the room regarding the unconventional method of tea service.

I hear it’s done this way in all the best tea salons in France, Stella overheard Elsie Davies brag to the table next to hers.

When the final tray of sandwiches left the kitchen en route to a group that requested seconds, Penelope resigned herself to the inevitable and took off her apron to mingle with her guests. This was the part of the job she enjoyed least. She far preferred to be back in the kitchen, up to her elbows in dainty edibles. The moment she stepped into the parlour, the room erupted in hearty applause, arresting her in her tracks.

Before she could get her bearings, she found her arm wrapped through Hank’s who had hastened from his seat to escort her around the room.

Where would you like to start? he asked.

I … ummm, Penelope stammered, her mind bereft of rational thought as it always was when in close proximity to Hank.

Leave it all to me, he replied, leading her first to Florence Morgan’s table.

For Penelope, the twenty-pace walk was like sidling through Eden. She breathed in Hank’s unmistakable scent—a combination of freshly laundered linen, masculine musk, and sea spray. She closed her eyes as she inhaled, and in so doing hit her hip on the back of a guest’s chair.

Steady on, Hank whispered encouragingly, believing her clumsiness to be occasioned by shyness as opposed to desire. He hugged her arm with his own to stabilize her.

Her head began to swoon. All she could think of was Hank. The ninety-person crowd simply faded into the furnishings, and she seriously considered grabbing his hand, running from the room, stealing Zara’s Duesenberg convertible, and roaring down Pacific Coast Highway alongside the ocean.

Good heavens, Miss Price, Florence said as Penelope stopped in front of her table. Are you quite well?

Hank did a double take when he noticed Penelope wore a dazed look and her cheeks were flushed.

She hasn’t been tippling the cooking sherry? Florence asked as Zara strode over to attend her friend.

Zara realized at once that Penelope’s malady was one of the heart. In short, Penelope was smitten with Hank and her complexion betrayed the fact. Too much time spent in that hot kitchen, Zara dissembled. Really, P, you need to have an electric fan installed back there.

I understand completely, Miss Price. It is an unseasonably warm day, Florence said, fanning herself. Mr. Edwards, perhaps you could see to it Miss Price gets a fan?

I’d be happy to, Hank said, smiling down at Penelope.

She looked up at him and began to sway on her feet, his smile having melted her last vestige of rationality. He placed his hand on the small of her back to prevent her from toppling, but his touch only added to her wooziness.

Sensing impending disaster, Zara wrested Penelope’s arm from Hank’s. She put her arm around Penelope’s waist to brace her while making small talk to shift the focus off Penelope’s condition. I dare say today’s festivities are far gayer than the last time we tried to open this place.

Daniel would be pleased to see the silver lining that’s brightened that dark day, Florence remarked. I’ve spent night after sleepless night in search of some kernel of good engendered by Daniel’s terrible demise. It’s the only way I can bear the futility of his loss. I believe several consequences show Daniel is still doing good works and smiling down on us from above … then again, what do I know? I’m just a silly old woman trying to make sense of a senseless tragedy.

I’ve felt the same thing, Lily said, rising to approach Florence’s table. That Danny is still looking after us all, that his death wasn’t for nothing. Please go on, Mrs. Morgan. It soothes my heart more than I can say.

Florence’s eyes began to fill and she took a sip of tea before continuing. Very well. For one, in the aftermath of it all, the Tea and Sympathy Investigative Agency was born. As a result, young Stella traded her fast and loose lifestyle among the speakeasy set for profitable employment at the tearoom and volunteer research on behalf of the agency.

Stella gasped upon hearing that Florence knew of the rebellious teen’s speakeasy past. Stella’s parents gasped too and looked at each other in amused surprise, unaware of their daughter’s former nocturnal activities.

Also, Lily, dear, since Daniel’s passing, you’ve shown your talent for retail management while running Allen’s General Store—an opportunity I dare say may never have arisen if life had continued on as it was. Thanks to Miss Price and her detective trio, Hubert Allen’s treachery was exposed and terminated. Who knows how many more lives would have been ruined had his villainy gone unchecked.

Lily sniffled and nodded, trying to hold back her tears.

Looks like my upstanding godfather Hubert had more skeletons in his closet than Carter has liver pills, Stella remarked.

And Z traded in that bounder Paolo for Walter, Penelope blurted randomly.

Zara instantly blushed—a reaction Penelope had never seen from Zara.

All sat in silence for a moment, their bittersweet thoughts focused on Dan.

Well … Zara said at length. I suppose we should make sure Penelope gets around to every table.

Oh yes, of course. Good thinking, Florence said.

Conversation resumed throughout the room. Penelope glanced back at Hank as Zara pulled her elbow to get her to move toward the next table. Hank returned to his seat next to Florence and put a gentle hand on hers, showing his appreciation for her comments about Dan. Penelope marveled at his ability to interact with others so effortlessly. It was an ability she did not share, especially after standing so close to him. It would take several minutes and several table visits for the euphoria of Hank’s touch to wear off.

Zara paraded Penelope from one group to another, introducing her to folks Penelope had never seen—folks whom Zara greeted by name.

Who are these people? Penelope said under her breath as they made the rounds.

They’re the cream of Pacific Grove society, and they’re all here for you!

But how is it you know who they are?

When you’re on the arm of the most beloved man in town, you meet a lot of people … and fast! Zara said.

Indeed, Police Chief Walter Harrison was Pacific Grove’s favorite son. He was firm but fair in performing his office, and his humility and humor had a way of easing the tensest of situations. He rarely resorted to carrying his firearm or even billy club, relying on diplomacy and genuine concern for the citizens of his town to resolve the barrage of no-win situations he faced daily.

Politicians sought his counsel,