A Sprig of Blossomed Thorn Read Online Free Page B

tea.”
    Dee nodded and took down two large teapots, handing one to Rosa. I took down a pitcher and began filling it with ice from the pantry’s refrigerator.
    â€œHow’s your grandmother, Rosa?”
    She smiled. “Fine. She loved the rose sandwiches.”
    â€œGood.”
    I filled the pitcher with filtered water and a couple of lemon slices. Returning to the dining parlor, I found that two more of the bridal shower guests had found their way in and were chatting up a storm with their friends. I began filling the water goblets on the table, but before I had gone halfway around it the chandelier flicked off and on.
    Conversation stopped. I glanced up at the chandelier, thinking, Not now, please !
    It turned off again, then on after two seconds, then flashed three times in fast succession.
    â€œWhat is that?” said one of the shower guests, staring at the lights.
    â€œOld wiring,” I said, smiling. “So sorry.”
    I put the water pitcher on the sideboard and hurried out into the hall. Captain Dusenberry was usually discreet, and didn't disrupt my business. This, though, was more than he had ever done before. If he had done it.
    I felt a cold dread, standing in the hallway, looking around for whatever had awakened the Captain’s attention. I tried to tell myself it really was just old wiring, but my gut disagreed.
    â€œWhat is it?” I said softly.
    The sound of hasty footsteps made me turn. Rosa had come out of the front parlor. She saw me and ran down the hall toward me, her face streaked with tears.

 
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    â€œR osa! What’s the matter?”
    I caught her in my arms and she gave a sob. “M-my grandmother!”
    â€œCome here.”
    I pulled her into the little hallway outside the restrooms, where there was a chaise longue. Taking out my handkerchief, I dabbed at her face with it, then pressed it into her hands.
    â€œStay here. I’ll go and see.”
    Rosa sobbed into the handkerchief. I left her sitting there and hurried to Lily.
    Mrs. Garcia was slumped in her chair, tea spilled across her lap and the cup fallen onto the floor. I gazed at her, breathing hard, trying to decide what to do. At best she was unconscious. At worst...
    I stepped forward and took hold of her wrist. It felt frail, with no pulse that I could find, though I’m certainly not an expert. I tried her throat with no more success. Gently, I shook her by the shoulder.
    â€œMrs. Garcia?”
    No response. My heart sank. I took her teaspoon and held it before her nose. No misting of breath on the silver. Carefully, I set the spoon down on the table.
    Another death in my tearoom. Even if it proved to be natural causes, it would not look good.
    I swallowed, knowing I had to call for help, dreading the chaos that was about to return to my beautiful, peaceful tearoom. I went out to the gift shop and called 911.
    The dispatcher assured me a team of paramedics would arrive soon. There was little more I could do, but I returned to Lily.
    Remembering the way the police had invaded the dining parlor a month ago after one of my guests was found strangled there, I pulled the pocket doors closed and loosed the drapes at the window. It would at least keep curious eyes from staring into Lily.
    I looked back at poor Mrs. Garcia. I wanted to pick up the teacup, set things to rights, but instinct warned me not to touch anything. I shouldn’t have picked up the spoon, though it hardly mattered. My fingerprints on a teaspoon in the Wisteria Tearoom were anything but unusual.
    Returning to the hall, I found a young couple waiting there, along with four elderly ladies in red hats. One of them, a tiny woman sporting a purple feather boa along with her wide-brimmed picture hat of bright scarlet, was all too familiar.
    I managed to summon a smile. “Mrs. Olavssen. I didn’t know you were coming in today.”
    She blinked and tilted her head in the way that reminded me so of a bird. In