Introduction

Oolong Dead by Laura Childs is the 10th installment in the bestselling Tea Shop Mystery series featuring Charleston tea shop owner Theodosia Browning. Asked to host a lavish tea and Verdi-themed Masked Ball, Theodosia has much on her mind - especially after she discovers the dead body of her arch nemesis, Abby Davis, who happens to be the sister of her old flame. As Charleston's opera house is transformed into a sumptuous Venetian carnivale, Theodosia's murder investigation takes her from a grand formal tea to a haunted South Carolina mansion to the backstage maze of a dark theatre where a maestro of murder awaits his next cue. This fast-paced book with its nail-biting ending veers between cozy and thriller (thrillzy?) and includes a host of mouth-watering teatime recipes.

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Excerpt

Chapter 1

Overhead branches slapped at Theodosia's cheeks, a crisp breeze nipped and pecked tendrils of auburn hair from beneath her black velvet riding cap. Sitting astride Captain Harley, a dun-colored jumping horse, Theodosia Browning couldn't have cared less as she charged her mount toward the fifth jump in the annual Charleston Point-to-Point race.

This pulse-pounding, exhilarating ride was part of a high society weekend Theodosia felt lucky to participate in. The Wildwood Horse and Hunt Club, a club she'd ridden with before, had invited her to join them. One of their members, a regular steeplechase rider, had broken his collarbone a week earlier and she was riding in his place.

And wouldn't you know it? This was one of those amazing October days when the sky was a curtain of cerulean blue and every shrub and tree blazed red and gold.

Starting from the outskirts of Ruffin, where the horsy set mingled with Charleston society over mint juleps and bourbon and branch, the race course snaked alongside a country road, headed into deep woods, and ended at a makeshift finish line some six miles away. It was a challenging course, littered with two dozen tricky jumps that included hedges, logs, fences, and muddy ditches. Heady stuff for Theodosia, who spent much of her time indoors.

Amidst the hiss and burble of teapots and the coming of going of customers, Theodosia Browning served as owner and proprietor of the Indigo Tea Shop in Charleston, South Carolina's historic district. For the past four years, she'd served tea, catered events, and dealt with the challenges of being a small business owner in a great big, ever-changing, free market economy. Now wonder, when it came to riding, she was also a fierce competitor.

Pounding down a long, sloping trail, Theodosia was happy to be far away from the viewing stand, hospitality tent, and inevitable TV cameras. The air was cooler here and the mossy, loamy scent of low-country soil filled her nostrils.

As brush swooshed against her leather riding boots, Theodosia charged toward the always-difficult in-and-out jump. Easing back on the reins just slightly, she tried to gauge her timing. At the last jump, Captain Harley had launched a little early and his back hooves had ticked down hard on the gate. Even though this in-and-out jump carried a greater degree of difficulty, Theodosia intended to take cleanly.

Bending forward now, Theodosia felt the heave and shudder of the large horse beneath her and squinted intently as the double jump came into view. Her hands slid forward to grasp a fistful of the horse's rough mane to insure she wouldn't get left behind when the big horse launched. Then, forearms aligned with Captain Harley's head, knees gripping the horse's mud-spattered sides, they were suddenly airborne.

Skimming over the first split-rail fence with ease, they landed with a resounding thud that sent clods of mud flying. Captain Harley took one scrambling, bounding stride, then Theodosia felt his muscles gather again as they launched like a giant spring over the second fence.

Leaning back in her saddle, Theodosia prepared herself for the inevitable hard jounce when the big horse touched down. Felt a tingle of exhilaration mingled with accomplishment.

But Captain Harley suddenly stumbled, then lurched crazily, his landing completely off kilter!

Bad landing, Theodosia thought as she was jerked rudely in the saddle, her horse slaloming left, sliding a few feet, then crab-stepping wildly off course!

What happened? she wondered. Bee sting?

Theodosia dug her heels into the horse's sides and jerked hard at the reins, fighting to regain control. But her quick efforts weren't enough. Something - some movement she'd also caught out of the corner of her eye - had spooked the big horse once again.

Leaning forward, Theodosia continued to jiggle at Captain Harley's bit, trying to simmer him down.

But Captain Harley, caught in his paroxysm of equine panic, was having none of it. Lips slicked back over long teeth, Captain Harley shook his great head from side to side, tossed his head back, and uttered a shrill, high-pitched whinny that sounded like a banshee's shriek as it echoed through the depths of the piney forest.

He's going to rear over backwards, Theodosia thought to herself. And just as Captain Harley flung his head back for the second time and his front hooves churned wildly in the air, Theodosia felt herself beginning to slip backwards. Gradually, inescapably, she was going to go down.

Theodosia, who'd been riding since she could practically walk, who'd been in tight jams before, did what any seasoned rider would do to save their own hide. She did a tuck and roll.

Only in this case, it was more like a sickening, slow-motion summersault. First, Theodosia was staring at blue sky populated by airy puffs of clouds, then she had a view of sloppy mud, littered with pine needles. Back to a quick, dizzying image of treetops, then another terrifying view of dark earth spinning toward her.

Thud.

A rude, teeth-rattling landing jounced Theodosia the full length of her body. As her breath was punched out of her, her head reeled, and a cloud of darkness began to descend. Hovering on the edge of consciousness, Theodosia willed herself to keep breathing, even as her mind seemed to spin like a centrifuge.

Moments crawled by as Theodosia lay huddled on the ground. Captain Harley was long gone, his hoof beats miniature thunder that echoed off the trees, then faded to nothing. Gradually, Theodosia felt dampness seep through her riding breeches, became aware of the rich, arboreal scent of forest floor prickling at her nose. She also felt a sharp stab of pain in her side.

Ribs cracked? Maybe broken?

And a raw, intense throb at the base of her neck.

Dear Lord, not my spine!

Theodosia's eyes peeped open. Landing in a semi-sprawled position, she found herself facing the second split-rail fence. Her nose and the left side of her cheek tingled hotly and she vaguely remembered scraping up against a creosote-coated rail.

Staring at her boots, Theodosia gingerly tried to move her left foot. Though it felt strangely disconnected from the rest of her, the black riding boot bobbled to and fro just fine.

Feeling heartened, she tried the right foot. Again, a moderate amount of success. Deciding she might not be so badly injured after all, knowing she had to get to her feet before another horse and rider came charging through the jump, Theodosia let loose a slow groan and rolled over onto one side.

That's when she saw a fresh spatter of blood tingeing a small patch of grass.

Bleeding? Where?

Her addled mind still wasn't tracking properly. Theodosia peeled off her riding gloves and felt her face. Couldn't detect any major cuts or scratches.

She slid off her riding cap, really a fancy hard hat, and released her mass of curly, auburn hair. She carefully patted her scalp. No dampness oozed, her skull seemed blessedly intact. So far so good.

Then . . . what? she wondered.

Twisting her neck slightly, feeling a rise of panic, Theodosia caught sight of more blood. And finally saw the body. Laying right there in front of her. A woman in a pale peach suit, crumpled horribly and slumped against the split-rail fence.

Theodosia's first panicked thought was that she'd run the poor woman down. Had crashed into her and unwittingly battered her with Captain Harley's lethal, steel-shod hooves.

That's what I saw. That's why Captain Harley freaked out! Oh dear Lord.

Theodosia pulled herself to her feet, staggered slightly, thought for sure she was going to be sick. Then she somehow got it together.

Managing another step, she went down hard on her knees beside the woman.

Is she breathing? Theodosia wondered. She tried to recall the ABC's of first aid. Airway, breathing, circulation.

She touched two fingers to the front of the woman's throat, just above the cameo that was pinned to her blouse, but could detect no pulse. She scanned quickly for some sign of injury, but saw none.

Gently, cautiously, Theodosia pushed the woman's brown hair from her face. The woman's eyes were shut tight, blood smeared her forehead and all the way down to the bridge of her nose And, there, right between the woman's eyes . . . Theodosia leaned in closer to look . . . was a small black hole. The sort of entry hole a small caliber weapon might make.

Shocked, Theodosia stared into the woman's slack face as the metallic, slightly cloying scent of blood wafted upward.

Theodosia squeezed her eyes closed, forcing herself to breath through her nose, willing herself to calm down. Not to panic.

She slowly opened her eyes and focused.

In the dim recess of her brain, something about the woman struck her as being strangely familiar.

Theodosia rolled back on her heels and studied the woman again. She noted the thrust of the woman's jaw, her high cheek bones, the spark of diamond studs in her ears. And was suddenly rocked to her inner core.

She knew this woman! Had seen her on TV just the other night. Had exchanged slightly unpleasant words with her a few months ago. Had . . . ohmygosh, it can't be her! . . . had dated her brother!

It came to Theodosia in a wild rush of recovered memory. The name popping into her brain with so much force she swore it made a cartoon bubble above her head.

“Abby Davis,” said Theodosia, her voice rising as if it were a pleading, crying question. “Shot to death?”

She stared at the woman again as a sick feeling puddled in the pit of her stomach.

Last time Theodosia had come face to face with Abby Davis, they'd had a rather public disagreement. And now here she was, lying dead in front of her.

The coincidence, the irony, seemed almost too much for Theodosia.

Nerves on edge, she studied the body again. Noticed there was fresh dirt under the fingernails of Abby's left hand. As if she'd attempted to pull herself along.

Shaking, feeling somewhat repulsed, Theodosia reached out and carefully shifted the body. It rolled over and settled lifelessly into a sad heap. The fingernails on Abby's right hand were just as filthy

Theodosia lifted her gaze to the bloodless pallor of Abby Davis's face. It was a shocking contract to the cameo that glinted so hypnotically in the fading afternoon sun. Red, blue, and brilliant yellow stones shining brightly.

“What just happened here?” she muttered.

But there was no answer save the faint whisper and sigh of the forest. view abbreviated excerpt only...

Discussion Questions

Do you think the title of the book offers a clue to its content?

What is the starting point of the book - the one action that gets the story rolling?

Do you think Detective Tidwell is Theodosia's adversary - or her friend?

Are there any characters that you identify with? Any characters you particularly like or dislike - and why?

Which character do you think offer the most comedic interest?

Laura Childs' Oolong Dead is a classic “cozy,” written in the spirit of Agatha Christie. Why do you think many women prefer this kinder, gentler type of mystery?

Why do you suppose many women want to be entrepreneurs like Theodosia? And why do many women prefer to own smaller, more manageable businesses?

Do you think the city of Charleston plays out as a “character” in this book?

Do you think the author has succeeded in creating a “sense of place?”

What is the over-riding theme of the book? Justice, faith, friendship? Has the author used any repeating images or symbolism?

Novels are much like three-act plays. There is an opening act, a middle
act, and a concluding act. Where do you think these “break points”
occur?

If you were going to blend a tea, what would it be?

Weblinks

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