Mystery
![Laura Childs - [object Object] author](https://res.cloudinary.com/readsomnia/image/upload/authors/a_a_laura_childs.jpg)
A Dark and Stormy Tea (A Tea Shop Mystery)
A possible serial killer on the loose sends tea maven Theodosia Browning into a whirlwind of investigation in this latest installment of the New York Times bestselling series.
It was a dark and stormy night, but that was the least of Theodosia Browning's troubles. As she approaches St. Philips Graveyard, Theodosia sees two figures locked in a strange embrace. Wiping rain from her eyes, Theodosia realizes she has just witnessed a brutal murder and sees a dark-hooded figure slip away into the fog.
In the throes of alerting police, Theodosia recognizes the victim-it is the daughter of her friend, Lois, who owns the Antiquarian Bookshop next door to her own Indigo Tea Shop.
Even though this appears to be the work of a serial killer who is stalking the back alleys of Charleston, Lois begs Theodosia for help. Against the advice of her boyfriend, Detective Pete Riley, and the sage words of Drayton, her tea sommelier, amateur-sleuth Theodosia launches her own shadow investigation. And quickly discovers that suspects abound with the dead girl's boyfriend, nefarious real estate developer, private-security man, bumbling reporter, and her own neighbor who is writing a true-crime book and searching for a big ending.
INCLUDES DELICIOUS RECIPES AND TEA TIME TIPS!
It was a dark and stormy night, but that was the least of Theodosia Browning's troubles. As she approaches St. Philips Graveyard, Theodosia sees two figures locked in a strange embrace. Wiping rain from her eyes, Theodosia realizes she has just witnessed a brutal murder and sees a dark-hooded figure slip away into the fog.
In the throes of alerting police, Theodosia recognizes the victim-it is the daughter of her friend, Lois, who owns the Antiquarian Bookshop next door to her own Indigo Tea Shop.
Even though this appears to be the work of a serial killer who is stalking the back alleys of Charleston, Lois begs Theodosia for help. Against the advice of her boyfriend, Detective Pete Riley, and the sage words of Drayton, her tea sommelier, amateur-sleuth Theodosia launches her own shadow investigation. And quickly discovers that suspects abound with the dead girl's boyfriend, nefarious real estate developer, private-security man, bumbling reporter, and her own neighbor who is writing a true-crime book and searching for a big ending.
INCLUDES DELICIOUS RECIPES AND TEA TIME TIPS!
Editorial Reviews
"A delight for mystery mavens and foodies, with Charleston providing the suitably spooky background."-Kirkus Reviews
Readers Top Reviews
Jill Nicely
Theodosia Browning is a busy woman. Who knew that running a cozy tearoom in Charleston, South Carolina would be so demanding? Between the customers who come in almost every day for some tea and treats to the tourists who stop in to the events they put on and the catering they do in town, Theo keeps herself moving. But when she was hurrying through St. Philip’s Graveyard, taking a shortcut in the storm, trying to get from the Heritage Society to her warm and cozy Indigo Tea Shop, she is stopped by what she sees. It’s a man and a woman, but Theodosia can’t tell at first what is happening. The one lays the other down, and Theo notices a big knife. She shouts at them, and the man, the one holding the knife, stops and stares at her and then disappears into the storm. Theodosia goes over to where the woman is and sees that she is dead. Theodosia calls for the police and waits in the rain. After the police show up and the crime scene investigators are getting to work, Theodosia and Detective Tidwell head to the tea shop. The detective asks if they can use that for a while while they are investigating the nearby graveyard, and Theodosia agrees. Her best friend and tea sommelier, Drayton, immediately start brewing tea and setting out snacks that their chef Haley has made. When they get a minute, Theodosia tells Drayton all about what she had seen, and how she hadn’t recognized the man, but she did recognize the woman. It was Cara Chamberlain, the daughter of Lois, who ran the antiquarian bookshop just down the street. And the police think it’s the work of Fogheel Jack. Seven years ago, there were 2 women who were murdered during a time when the fog had rolled in and limited visibility through the entire town for days. The women were strangled in a similar way, and then the killer disappeared. He was dubbed Fogheel Jack after an English serial killer with a similar style. If this latest killing is the work of Fogheel Jack, then Cara would be his second victim this time. Lois asks Theodosia for help trying to figure out who might have killed her daughter, and Theo agrees. She finds out the name of Cara’s ex-boyfriend. She researches the history of Fogheel Jack. She looks into the real estate developer who is trying to buy Lois’s bookstore, even though her lease won’t run out for several years. She checks in with her friends on the police force and fields questions from friends and reporters who want to know what she’s found out. But when another woman ends up dead, this time the investigative journalist from the local television station, Theodosia knows that this killer is no joke. And until the police figure out who Fogheel Jack is, no one in Charleston is safe, least of all the tea shop owner who is going around asking nosy questions. Will Theodosia help put an end to the legend of Fogheel Jack, or will she just be ...
island readerPJCh
I have read all the previous Tea Shop Mysteries and enjoyed most of them. However, it felt like the author just phoned in this book - there is no life to it- completely formulaic. I ended up just speed reading the last half of the book. MEH!! I really resent paying best seller prices and not getting full value for my money. Not sure if I will buy the next entry in the series.
C. Trussellisland
Walking through a dismal foggy night, Theodosia sees two figures entwined ahead. As she approaches, one disappears and she finds the lifeless body of Cara, a college student and daughter of the neighborhood bookseller, Lois. Only later does she learn the story of murders of women seven years earlier. Theodosia becomes too interested in the story about the serial murders, so she obliges when Lois asks her to look for Cara’s murderer. Riley, Theo’s long-time beau, has been assigned the case and her tea sommelier, Drayton, is her investigative sidekick. As always, the story is as much about Theodosia’s tea shop and the ensemble of friends and co-workers as it is about the mystery she has to solve. The book will work as a stand-alone read, but why when there are so many others preceding it? And the requisite recipes are appended at the end.
S. Pugh-WilsonC.
As ALWAYS a THRILLING SUSPENSEFUL read! I! can't wait for the next one!!! Looking forward to trying all the recipes especially the ciopino
Short Excerpt Teaser
1
At five thirty on a Monday afternoon, it was full-on dark when Theodosia Browning, proprietor of the Indigo Tea Shop, stepped out the back door of the Heritage Society. Pushing back a lock of curly auburn hair, she scanned the western sky, hoping for a faint smudge of orange to light the way home. When she didn't find it, she set off at a fast clip, chiding herself for staying so late.
Still, Charleston's venerable Heritage Society was sponsoring a Maritime History Seminar this Wednesday, and as luck would have it, Theodosia and her team had been tapped to cater an afternoon tea for visiting scholars.
Gotta hurry back. Drayton will be waiting, Theodosia told herself as she snugged her coat collar up against a cold wind. Overhead, trees thrashed as rain began to pelt down, stinging her face like icy needles.
Awful weather for early March. Especially when Charleston should be bursting with azaleas and pink camellias.
Now thunder rumbled overhead, low and slow, as if pin after pin was being knocked down in a cosmic bowling alley.
Theodosia hurried across King Street and hesitated. She glanced around at enormous two-hundred-year-old homes that sat on their haunches like nervous cats, then shivered as sheets of rain slashed down. Because the shortest distance between two points was a straight line, she knew a shortcut down Gateway Walk, a tangled trail that wound through the back side of the Historic District, would save her an entire block of slopping through puddles. And with this weather system blowing in so hard and strong, the decision was a no-brainer.
Of course, Gateway Walk was probably deserted right now, Theodosia told herself as she hurried through a pair of ancient wrought-iron gates and headed down a narrow, winding path. With this foul, unseasonable weather, there'd be no tourists snapping photos, none of the usual ghost-walk tours with guides spinning eerie tales about haunted graves and wafting white specters.
Tall boxwood hedges closed in as Theodosia skimmed along slippery cobblestones. Great gray wisps of fog rolled across her path like ghostly ocean waves, driven in by the wind off Charleston Harbor a few blocks away. Charleston, a city that was already slightly ethereal due to high humidity, salt-laden sea air, and antique glowing streetlamps, became positively spooky when the fog swirled in.
Of course it's spooky, Theodosia told herself. Even this pathway is purported to be a prime viewing area for ghostly phenomena. Which, by the way, I don't happen to subscribe to.
Theodosia had traveled these hidden paths and walkways dozens of times, always reveling in their sumptuous gardens, Greek statuary, hidden grape arbors, and pattering fountains. But tonight she had to admit the atmosphere did feel slightly different.
And for good reason.
Always a gracious and posh dowager, Charleston was on edge right now. A dangerous killer the local press had dubbed Fogheel Jack had been skulking down its hidden lanes and alleys. After a seven-year hiatus, this madman had suddenly reappeared in Charleston to strangle an unsuspecting young woman with a twist of sharp wire.
Now residents hurried home from work in a wash of blue twilight and locked their doors before total darkness descended. Visitors who'd come to languish in luxury at Charleston's historic inns and feast at four-star restaurants that specialized in grilled redfish, blue crab, and fresh oysters were warned not to wander too far from the relatively safe confines of the Historic District. Around the City Market, Waterfront Park, and White Point Gardens, Charleston police had stepped up patrols and officers rode two to a cruiser.
No. Theodosia shook her head to dispel the notion of danger and told herself she'd be fine. Better than fine. Even though she was surrounded by live oaks, palmettos, and crumbling stone walls, she was only three blocks away-actually, make that two and a half-from busy Church Street and the welcoming warmth of her tea shop. And once she reached the front door of that cozy little establishment, she'd be perfectly safe. Drayton Conneley, her dear friend and tea sommelier, would be waiting with a fresh-brewed pot of Darjeeling, eager to hear fi...
At five thirty on a Monday afternoon, it was full-on dark when Theodosia Browning, proprietor of the Indigo Tea Shop, stepped out the back door of the Heritage Society. Pushing back a lock of curly auburn hair, she scanned the western sky, hoping for a faint smudge of orange to light the way home. When she didn't find it, she set off at a fast clip, chiding herself for staying so late.
Still, Charleston's venerable Heritage Society was sponsoring a Maritime History Seminar this Wednesday, and as luck would have it, Theodosia and her team had been tapped to cater an afternoon tea for visiting scholars.
Gotta hurry back. Drayton will be waiting, Theodosia told herself as she snugged her coat collar up against a cold wind. Overhead, trees thrashed as rain began to pelt down, stinging her face like icy needles.
Awful weather for early March. Especially when Charleston should be bursting with azaleas and pink camellias.
Now thunder rumbled overhead, low and slow, as if pin after pin was being knocked down in a cosmic bowling alley.
Theodosia hurried across King Street and hesitated. She glanced around at enormous two-hundred-year-old homes that sat on their haunches like nervous cats, then shivered as sheets of rain slashed down. Because the shortest distance between two points was a straight line, she knew a shortcut down Gateway Walk, a tangled trail that wound through the back side of the Historic District, would save her an entire block of slopping through puddles. And with this weather system blowing in so hard and strong, the decision was a no-brainer.
Of course, Gateway Walk was probably deserted right now, Theodosia told herself as she hurried through a pair of ancient wrought-iron gates and headed down a narrow, winding path. With this foul, unseasonable weather, there'd be no tourists snapping photos, none of the usual ghost-walk tours with guides spinning eerie tales about haunted graves and wafting white specters.
Tall boxwood hedges closed in as Theodosia skimmed along slippery cobblestones. Great gray wisps of fog rolled across her path like ghostly ocean waves, driven in by the wind off Charleston Harbor a few blocks away. Charleston, a city that was already slightly ethereal due to high humidity, salt-laden sea air, and antique glowing streetlamps, became positively spooky when the fog swirled in.
Of course it's spooky, Theodosia told herself. Even this pathway is purported to be a prime viewing area for ghostly phenomena. Which, by the way, I don't happen to subscribe to.
Theodosia had traveled these hidden paths and walkways dozens of times, always reveling in their sumptuous gardens, Greek statuary, hidden grape arbors, and pattering fountains. But tonight she had to admit the atmosphere did feel slightly different.
And for good reason.
Always a gracious and posh dowager, Charleston was on edge right now. A dangerous killer the local press had dubbed Fogheel Jack had been skulking down its hidden lanes and alleys. After a seven-year hiatus, this madman had suddenly reappeared in Charleston to strangle an unsuspecting young woman with a twist of sharp wire.
Now residents hurried home from work in a wash of blue twilight and locked their doors before total darkness descended. Visitors who'd come to languish in luxury at Charleston's historic inns and feast at four-star restaurants that specialized in grilled redfish, blue crab, and fresh oysters were warned not to wander too far from the relatively safe confines of the Historic District. Around the City Market, Waterfront Park, and White Point Gardens, Charleston police had stepped up patrols and officers rode two to a cruiser.
No. Theodosia shook her head to dispel the notion of danger and told herself she'd be fine. Better than fine. Even though she was surrounded by live oaks, palmettos, and crumbling stone walls, she was only three blocks away-actually, make that two and a half-from busy Church Street and the welcoming warmth of her tea shop. And once she reached the front door of that cozy little establishment, she'd be perfectly safe. Drayton Conneley, her dear friend and tea sommelier, would be waiting with a fresh-brewed pot of Darjeeling, eager to hear fi...
