Ming Tea Murder (28 page)

FROM Laura Childs

Sherlock Holmes Tea

Dim the lights, throw on a dark green tablecloth, and make your tea table look as British as possible. That means decorating with a stack of books, a magnifying glass, and brass candlesticks. Copy and enlarge pages from a Sherlock Holmes mystery to use as placemats and use plaid or herringbone napkins. If you can add a Sherlock Holmes hat, so much the better. You'll want to serve currant scones or oat cakes with lemon curd and jam, hearty roast beef and cheddar cheese sandwiches, and strong black tea. (Note: Mystery book clubs, this is for you!)

Russian Tea

Delicious Russian Caravan tea sets the theme here. This traditional blend is usually served with heartier savories, so consider blinis with cream cheese, dark bread with eggplant spread, potato dumplings, and beet borscht. For dessert, cakes and small pastries fill the bill. And don't forget the sugar, since Russian Caravan tea is often drunk with two or even three cubes.

Ming Tea (without the Murder!)

Make this an occasion to pull out all your chinoiserie—your blue and white dishes, Chinese figurines, and Chinese teapots. Decorate your tea table with paper fans or even a bonsai or
penjing
. Serve miniature egg rolls, a Chinese chicken salad, and steamed dumplings. And remember, Chinese black tea is always more authentic when served in small tea bowls.

Van Gogh Sunflower Tea

For this afternoon tea, your table should resemble a painterly still life. Think an enormous vase of sunflowers, yellow dishes and napkins, and a wooden bowl heaped with oranges. Van Gogh postcards are readily available in gift shops, so they make perfect invitations. There are also van Gogh tea towels and teapots to be had. Serve sunflower seed scones, cream cheese and roasted red peppers on brown bread, and ham and apple slices on French bread. Choose a light Formosan oolong for your tea, and pipe yellow frosting into sunflower designs on chocolate cookies.

Floral Tea

This tea table calls for a floral tablecloth, floral patterned dishes, and masses of flowers in vases. Start with a quiche accented with edible flowers, and move on to egg salad tea sandwiches on whole wheat bread as well as ricotta cheese mixed with bits of orange and spread on hearty white bread. Serve a delicate chamomile tea and don't forget sugar swizzle sticks or orange sticks covered with chocolate. If you can have your Floral Tea outdoors—in the garden or on the patio—so much the better.

French Tea

Elegance is the watchword here, so set your tea table with interesting textiles, fine china, and cut glass. Add candles and put on some soothing music. Cream scones are always a delicious starter. Your tea sandwiches might include crab salad on croissants, brie cheese and strawberry jam on baguettes, and cream cheese and sliced cucumbers on whole wheat bread. Serve a lovely Ceylon black tea, and don't forget the macarons or chocolate truffles for dessert.

TEA PUBLICATIONS

TeaTime
—A luscious magazine profiling tea and tea lore. Filled with glossy photos and wonderful recipes. (teatimemagazine.com)

Southern Lady
—From the publishers of
Tea Time
, a magazine with a focus on people and places in the South as well as wonderful teatime recipes. (southernladymagazine.com)

The Tea House Times
—Go to theteahousetimes.com for subscription information and dozens of links to tea shops, purveyors of tea, gift shops, and tea events.

Victoria
—A magazine including articles and pictorials on homes, home design, gardens, and tea. (victoriamag.com)

Tea in Texas
—A magazine highlighting Texas tea rooms and tea events. (teaintexas.com)

Margaret Thornby's Tea & Tea Room Talk Magazine
—A magazine covering tea news and tea shops in Britain. (teatalkmagazine.co.uk)

Fresh Cup Magazine
—A magazine for tea and coffee professionals. (freshcup.com)

Tea & Coffee
—A trade journal for the tea and coffee industry. (teaandcoffee.net)

Bruce Richardson—This author has written several definitive books on tea. (elmwoodinn.com/books)

Jane Pettigrew—This author has written thirteen books on various aspects of tea and its history and culture. (janepettigrew .com/books)

A Tea Reader
—an anthology of tea stories and reflections by Katrina Avila Munichiello.

AMERICAN TEA PLANTATIONS

Charleston Tea Plantation—The oldest and largest tea plantation in the United States. Order their fine black tea or schedule a visit at bigelowtea.com.

Fairhope Tea Plantation—A tea plantation in Fairhope, Alabama.

FiLoLi Tea Farm—An up-and-coming Mississippi tea farm about ready to go into production. (filoliteafarm.com)

Sakuma Bros. Farm & Market—This tea garden just outside Burlington, Washington, has been growing white and green tea for more than a dozen years. (sakumamarket.com)

Big Island Tea—An organic artisan tea from Hawaii. (bigislandtea.com)

Mauna Kea Tea—An organic green and oolong tea from Hawaii's Big Island. (maunakeatea.com)

Onomea Tea Company—A nine-acre tea estate near Hilo, Hawaii. (onomeatea.com)

Moonrise Tea Garden—Organic teas grown on Hawaii's Big Island and packed in rice-paper pouches. (moonrisetea.com)

TEA WEBSITES AND INTERESTING BLOGS

Teamap
.
com—A directory of hundreds of tea shops in the U.S. and Canada.

Greattearoomsofamerica.com—An excellent tea shop guide.

Afternoontea.co.uk—A guide to tea rooms in the U.K.

Cookingwithideas.typepad.com—Recipes and book reviews for the bibliochef.

Cuppatea4sheri.blogspot.com—Amazing recipes.

Seedrack.com—Order camellia sinensis seeds and grow your own tea!

Friendshiptea.net—Tea shop reviews, recipes, and more.

RTbookreviews.com—A wonderful romance and mystery book review site.

Adelightsomelife.com—Tea, gardening, and cottage crafts.

Theladiestea.com—A networking platform for women.

Jennybakes.com—Fabulous recipes from a real make-it-from-scratch baker.

Lattedavotion.wordpress.com—Coffee, tea, and book reviews.

Southernwritersmagazine.com—Inspiration, writing advice, and author interviews with Southern writers.

Allteapots.com—Teapots from around the world.

Thedailytea.com—Formerly
Tea Magazine
, this online publication is filled with tea news, recipes, inspiration, and tea travel.

Fireflyvodka.com—South Carolina purveyors of Sweet Tea vodka, Raspberry Tea vodka, Peach Tea vodka, and more. Just visiting this website is a trip in itself!

Teasquared.blogspot.com—A fun, well-written blog with musings about tea and tea shops.

Blog.bernideens.com—Tea, baking, decorations, and gardening.

Teapages.net—All things tea.

Possibili-teas.net—Tea consultants with a terrific monthly newsletter.

Relevanttealeaf.blogspot.com—All about tea.

Baking.about.com—Carroll Pellegrinelli writes a terrific baking blog, complete with recipes and photo instructions.

Stephcupoftea.blogspot.com—Blog on tea, food, and inspiration.

Teawithfriends.blogspot.com—Lovely blog on tea, friendship, and tea accoutrements.

Garden-of-books.com—Terrific book reviews by an entertainment journalist.

Teaescapade.wordpress.com—An enjoyable tea blog.

Bellaonline.com/site/tea—Features and forums on tea.

Lattesandlife.com—Witty musings on life.

Napkinfoldingguide.com—Photo illustrations of twenty-seven different (and sometimes elaborate) napkin folds.

Worldteaexpo.com—This premier business-to-business trade show features more than three hundred tea suppliers, vendors, and tea innovators.

Sweetgrassbaskets.net—One of several websites where you can buy sweetgrass baskets direct from the artists.

Goldendelighthoney.com—Carolina honey to sweeten your tea.

Fatcatscones.com—Frozen ready-to-bake scones.

Kingarthurflour.com—One of the best flours for baking. This is what many professional pastry chefs use.

Teagw.com—Visit this website and click on Products to find dreamy tea pillows filled with jasmine, rose, lavender, and green tea.

Californiateahouse.com—Order Machu's Blend, a special herbal tea for dogs that promotes healthy skin, lowers stress, and aids digestion.

Vintageteaworks.com—This company offers six unique wine-flavored tea blends that celebrate wine and respect the tea.

Downtonabbeycooks.com—A
Downton Abbey
blog with news and recipes. You can also order their book
Abbey Cooks.

Auntannie.com—Crafting site that will teach you how to make your own petal envelopes, pillow boxes, gift bags, etc.

Bostonteaparty.com—Mark T. Wendell is the U.S. distributor for Davison Newman & Co Ltd of London, original suppliers of tea for the historic Boston Tea Parties of 1773–1774.

Victorianhousescones.com—Scone, biscuit, and cookie mixes for both retail and wholesale orders. Plus baking and scone-making tips.

Harney.com—Contact Harney & Sons to order their Titanic loose leaf blend tea or their RMS Titanic tea sachets.

PURVEYORS OF FINE TEA

Adagio.com

Harney.com

Stashtea.com

Republicoftea.com

Teazaanti.com

Bigelowtea.com

Celestialseasonings.com

Goldenmoontea.com

Uptontea.com

VISITING CHARLESTON

Charleston.com—Travel and hotel guide.

Charlestoncvb.com—The official Charleston convention and visitor bureau.

Charlestontour.wordpress.com—Private tours of homes and gardens, some including lunch or tea.

Charlestonplace.com—Charleston Place Hotel serves an excellent afternoon tea, Thursday through Saturday, 1:00 p.m. to 3:00 p.m.

Culinarytoursofcharleston.com—Sample specialties from Charleston's local eateries, markets, and bakeries.

Charlestonteaco.com—This small café on Ann Street sells loose leaf and iced teas, and serves breakfast and lunch. They have even blended a special medicinal migraine tea.

Poogansporch.com—This restored Victorian house serves traditional low-country cuisine. Be sure to ask about Poogan!

Preservationsociety.org—Hosts Charleston's annual Fall Candlelight Tour.

Palmettocarriage.com—Horse-drawn carriage rides.

Charlestonharbortours.com—Boat tours and harbor cruises.

Ghostwalk.net—Stroll into Charleston's haunted history. Ask them about the “original” Theodosia!

Charlestontours.net—Ghost tours plus tours of plantations and historic homes.

Follybeach.com—Official guide to Folly Beach activities, hotels, rentals, restaurants, and events.

T
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CRA
PBOOKING
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YSTERY
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Parchment and Old Lace

C
OM
ING
O
CTOBER
2015
IN
HARDC
OVER
FROM
B
ERKLEY
P
R
IME
C
RIME
!

Commander's Palace wasn't
just the most storied restaurant in New Orleans—for Carmela Bertrand it was pure magic.

Carmela knew this for a fact because she was sitting in their Garden Room at this very minute. And not only was she nibbling soft-shell crab and drinking an awesome Montrachet, but she was staring into the inquisitive blue eyes of her fella du jour, Detective Edgar Babcock.

Maybe it was the wine, no doubt crafted by Bacchus himself, that had cast such a luscious spell. Or maybe it was soft, warm light from the gilded candelabras, the old- world charm and formality of the place, or that crazy second course of oysters baked in absinthe and buttered crumbs. Whatever the reason, Carmela was definitely feeling it. Luxuriance, exhilaration, and romance. Sweet, bubbly romance.

“This is so lovely,” Carmela said, trying to pitch her voice an octave lower so it was sexy and seductive, kind of like Kathleen Turner in
Body
Heat.
Or maybe Lauren Bacall in one of those old black-and-white movies from the forties.

“You're lovely,” replied Babcock.

And Carmela really was. Her porcelain-blue eyes, fine features, and tawny-colored hair (this week's color, anyway) gave her an air of exuberance and creative curiosity. She was toned and fairly athletic from lots of dog walking, but still enjoyed a few sweet curves. And, yes, she could be a bit stubborn, but she was generally quick to administer a kind word followed by a hug.

Carmela took another sip of wine. “I have to say, this dinner has been pure perfection. If every restaurant reviewer in the universe hadn't already bequeathed four stars to this place, I would have sprinkled them on myself.”

Babcock smiled and reached across the table to gently take her hand.

“Why are you talking that way?” he asked.

Carmela's eyes went slightly round. “What way?”

“Like you've got the beginnings of a head cold. Or are doing an imitation of a character from
The Simpsons.”

“Oh.” Then, “I didn't mean to.”

“You've just fallen completely under my spell, is that it?”

“Well . . . yeah,” said Carmela, reverting to valley girl. Now she wasn't sure if he was flirting with her or putting her on.

Babcock gave a low chuckle. “You're such a little cutie, you know that? One of these days we're seriously going to have to . . .”

“Carmela!” A loud, impassioned shriek suddenly split the air.

Startled, Carmela and Babcock both whipped their heads sideways, only to find an exuberant-looking blond woman grinning at them, all teeth and gums and big southern hair.

“Uh . . . hi,” said Carmela as she scrambled to dredge her memory, to put a name to this face. “Isabelle?” She said it tentatively because she really wasn't sure that was the name of this young woman who'd just hit an ear-splitting high C as she stormed their table like a pirate commandeering one of the king's galleons.

Isabelle's smile got even wider and brighter, and she said, “You remembered.”

“How could I forget?” Carmela said, when she really had forgotten. Well, almost.

“Has Ellie been keeping you in the loop about all my big wedding plans?” Isabelle asked. Ellie was Eldora Black, Isabelle's sister and the tarot card reader who worked at Juju Voodoo, the little shop across the courtyard from Carmela's French Quarter apartment. The voodoo shop, a kind of funky, fun tourist trap, was owned by Carmela's very best friend Ava Gruiex.

“Ellie
has
shared a few things with me,” Carmela said, lying as gracefully as she could. She glanced over at Babcock. “With us.” Now she gave Babcock an encouraging nod. “You remember Isabelle, don't you? She's one of the assistant district attorneys.”

“We've met,” Babcock said politely.

“Just two more weeks,” Isabelle said. She held up two fingers and then fluttered her hand nervously as her engagement ring caught the light and glittered like a disco ball.

“That's some gorgeous ring,” Carmela said.

Now Isabelle preened a bit. “Isn't it? Three carats, a VS2.”

“Sweet,” Babcock said, gamely trying to interject himself in a conversation that had suddenly turned girly.

Flustered by the attention, Isabelle took a step back from their table. “I hope you two are still planning to attend my wedding.”

“Absolutely,” Carmela said. She had an awful feeling that she hadn't actually mailed back her RSVP. She'd been busy and scattered lately, what with teaching a series of card making classes at her scrapbook shop, Memory Mine. Oh well, maybe she could short-circuit things and give her reply to Ellie. Yeah, that oughta work just fine.

Isabelle glanced across the room where two of her friends waved at her. One tall and blond, the other short and dark-haired. “Well, I'm afraid I have to hustle off. I've been tasting cakes with Naomi and Cynthia and a few other folks from the wedding party.” She rolled her eyes. “And now I have a thousand other things to nail down.”

“I'll bet you do,” Carmela said. “Bye-bye,” she gave a little wave as Isabelle scampered away. “Good luck.” Then, when Isabelle and her friends were out of both sight and earshot, she leaned across the table and said, “Do you recall me inviting you to her wedding?”

Babcock shook his head. “Nope.”

“Do you want to go? Do you want to be my plus one?”

Another head shake. “Nope.”

“Come on,” said Carmela. “Don't be an old poop. Weddings are exciting, romantic events filled with dancing, champagne, good food, and excellent cake.” Carmela was particularly fond of cake, though champagne wasn't too far down on her list either.

“I'm pretty sure I have to work,” Babcock said.

“You don't even know when her wedding is,” Carmela said. “So how do you know if you'll be called upon to bust up an international smuggling ring of ladies' designer flip-flops or chase down some homicidal maniac?”

But Babcock didn't answer. He was suddenly frowning at the check that had been surreptitiously deposited at their table, running quick fractions in his head.

Hmm. He was good at dodging bullets, that's for sure, Carmela decided. Probably from all the practice he got as a police detective.

She narrowed her eyes and studied him carefully. He was quite a catch, this guy. Tall, lanky, ginger-colored hair, nice high cheekbones. A man who walked into a room and immediately projected a certain weighty presence. Plus he had a penchant for snazzy clothes. Really snazzy clothes, like Ralph Lauren Black Label and Moncler. Tonight he was wearing a Burberry Brit jacket that widened his shoulders and nipped his waist. Always a good thing.

Babcock glanced up and gave her a warm smile. “Ready to go?”

“Sure.” Carmela returned his smile. “I could get used to this, you know.” She meant the dinner, the togetherness, and then some. The
and then some
meaning the two of them would eventually head back to her place for a nice Sunday night canoodle.

“So could I,” Babcock said. He held out a hand and helped her up from the chair. Then, he slid both arms around her, pulled her close, and gave her a quick kiss.

“Uh-oh,” Carmela cautioned. “PDA.”

Babcock arched back an inch. “What's PDA? Some kind of women's political group? A new design project?”

She brushed her lips across his cheek, feeling his warmth and energy. “You know, public display of affection.”

“Oh, that.” He chuckled and grabbed her hand. “Come on.”

• • •

Outside the restaurant,
the November evening had turned cool and breezy. Though it was full-on dark, the exterior of Commander's Palace twinkled with multiple strands of lights. Turrets, columns, gingerbread swirls, and balustrades were all shown off to their best advantage, gilded and glittering like a Mardi Gras float. Turquoise and white awnings flip-flapped in the wind while the restaurant's trademark neon sign hummed brightly.

The whole of the Garden District was spread out around them, stately and sublime, as if it were its own proud principality governed by some unseen archduke. Lush gardens and wrought-iron fences surrounded block after block of palatial Greek Revival homes, with a few Queen Annes and Victorians thrown in for good measure. And, if you strolled down First Street, you might even encounter a fanciful Gothic home, owned by a famous author of vampire books.

Carmela and Babcock walked down Coliseum Street, heading for Babcock's blue BMW, which was parked at the end of the block. Across the scuffed blacktop, where dry leaves scritched and scratched as they were hurried along by little puffs of wind, stood the infamous Lafayette Cemetery. Dark and ominous-looking, this was one of New Orleans's oldest and most infamous Cities of the Dead. Here, crumbling tombs, ancient crypts, and hulking mausoleums stood shoulder to somber shoulder, more than seven thousand residents interred in a one-block area, attracting and terrifying swarms of tourists as well as locals.

A chill gust of wind suddenly blasted them, and Carmela turned her face into Babcock's shoulder.

“I was thinking that we should—” she began.

An ungodly scream suddenly pierced what felt like a fragile night.

“Heeeeeelp!”

Carmela clutched Babcock's arm. “What was that?”

“Nooo!”

Another agonizing scream rolled out but was immediately cut off.

Babcock swiveled his head like a periscope. “Cemetery,” he said sharply. He took off running, as if a starter's gun had sounded, leaving Carmela standing all by herself on the sidewalk. In the dark.

She weighed her options for all of one second. “Wait!” she cried. And took off after him.

But Babcock's longer legs had put him easily twenty strides ahead of her. And when he reached the cemetery's fence, he simply grabbed hold of the top tines, wedged a toe into a curlicue, and vaulted over it slick as you please.

“Where are you . . . ? Oh, jeez!” cried Carmela. She knew she couldn't climb over that foreboding-looking fence in her tight skirt, so she pounded down the block to the formal entrance at the corner, lost her balance and almost spun out, then ducked through the narrow entryway.

“Babcock,” she called out. “Where are you?” She slid to a stop and listened intently. When she didn't hear anything, she called again, “What's going on?” Then, “Are you okay?”

“Over here.” Babcock's faint shout drifted toward her.

Carmela glanced around, decided that his voice had to be coming from practically the epicenter of the cemetery, and then took off at a gallop. She dodged around a row of low, flat, humpy-looking tombs, then sped down a narrow gravel walkway between two mausoleums that were iced by a finger of moonlight. The night felt even darker in here, more dangerous. Fear trickled coldly down her spine, and the exertion of a full-out sprint made the blood pound in her ears.

Still she kept going, moving and darting ahead.

What could have happened? Carmela wondered. Had someone been attacked? That had to be it. None of New Orleans' cemeteries were particularly safe after dark, and visitors were constantly being cautioned to avoid them. Had Babcock been able to foil this robbery attempt or attack or whatever it had been? Had he given chase to the attacker?

Carmela spun around a stone angel whose upturned face had eroded away over the years from the constant onslaught of heat, wind, humidity, and hurricanes. She dashed past a row of oven tombs and stumbled as her toe caught on the corner of a marble tablet that the earth had heaved up. Righting herself, she listened again but didn't hear anything. So she ran left in a sort of zigzag pattern, still trying to get a bead on where Babcock had called to her from.

Gray clouds boiled up, and the sliver of moon, which had served as a small guiding beacon, slipped behind them. Now Carmela was practically running blind, feeling her way along, touching and grasping cold stone. If only she could . . .

She ran her fingers along the edge of a marble tomb, cool and smooth as picked bones. She glanced up—hoping that a crescent of moon might put in an appearance again. But the night seemed to turn darker, holding a hint of even more danger.

Carmela scuffed along quietly. She figured she was fairly close to where Babcock might have called to her from. Now if she could only see . . .

A sound, soft and muffled, as if someone might be hunching themselves back into the shadows and hiding from her, caused Carmela to stop dead in her tracks. On high alert, hair on the back of her neck prickling like crazy, Carmela listened as though her life depended on it. And maybe it did.

What was it? What did I hear?

She flattened herself against the side of a large, hulking crypt and tried to modulate her breathing as best she could, tried to make every sense keenly alert to what was going on around her.

But, after a few moments, she heard—and felt—nothing.

Carmela slowly released a breath. She was spooked, yes, but she wasn't going to let her emotions run wild on her. She was going to keep bumbling along and find Babcock. After all, he was in here somewhere.

Carmela moved ahead two steps, then three, her right shoulder still brushing against the side of the crypt, using it as a sort of touch point. She was just about to cry out to Babcock again, to try to get a fix on his position, when she heard a strange, low creaking sound and caught a flash of something.

The initial spark in Carmela's brain told her it was a shadow coming at her—a grid of light and dark projected by a far-off passing car. At the last moment, she realized it was a rusty iron gate. The heavy, flaking wrought-iron door of the crypt had been flung open on squeaking hinges and was creaking inexorably toward her.

Shocked, totally unprepared, Carmela had barely two seconds to get a hand up in front of her face, a pro forma protest at best, before the gate struck hard against her, pinning her tightly against the crypt's outside wall.