“Tea? If you weren’t British, I’d think you were pulling my leg.”
Jack smiled. “Chamomile,” he said as he held up a tea bag for her perusal. “It calms the nerves.”
She shook her head. A professional killer touting the benefits of homeopathic tea remedies? Her smile matched his own. “I’m allergic to ragweed. Isn’t chamomile a relative?” She teased.
Jack’s smile broadened. “Just have the tea, luv. And you can take the time to tell me more about the clue you unearthed in the car.”
Annabelle shrugged. “Well, you heard all there really is to tell.” As she thought about the clue that she and her companions had riddled out in the back of the limo, she also thought of Max. And then came the familiar and unwelcome tightening in her chest.
She tried to ignore it by continuing to talk.
“The letters and spaces were a name and location. The name, Craig Brandt, isn’t one I’m familiar with. I don’t recall Max ever mentioning him, but then he probably wouldn’t. My guess is that it was someone his wife knew. Teresa.”
Jack nodded, listening quietly. The tea kettle began to whistle. Jack turned off the stove and poured the boiling liquid over the tea bags in two mugs. Annabelle went on.
“Columbia Medical was most likely where Teresa went to medical school. I can’t ask Max… obviously…” She paused and cleared her throat. Jack turned to watch her carefully. “But I seem to recall him mentioning at some point that he used to live in or around the Big Apple. Dylan was probably too young, at that time, to remember much of any detail, but he didn’t seem to object to the idea of his mom being associated with Columbia.” She paused and considered something. “There may be records at their house. Which, of course, is now off-limits.” She shrugged. “The school, at least, should have her academic record, at any rate.”
She stopped and cleared her throat again and then reached for the mug she chose as hers before Jack could hand it to her. It had an owl on it. She liked owls.
She took the mug and then also pulled out two of the five tea bags from the pot and dumped them into her own cup. She wanted them to seep an extra long time.
“Do you have soy creamer?” she asked as she opened the refrigerator.
“Yes. In the top shelf of the door.”
Annabelle found the small container of unsweetened creamer and closed the fridge door. She gave the carton a good shake and then screwed off the top, pouring its white, creamy contents right on top of her tea bags. She grabbed the tea bags by their strings and pumped them up and down, mixing the creamer into the tea, before pulling the bags out entirely and tossing them into the trash.
“Pull that in England and the queen will see you drawn and quartered,” Jack said, his tone softly teasing.
“I’m an American, Jack. We’re all savages.”
Jack chuckled and held his mug out to her. “To your health, luv.”
Annabelle clinked his mug with hers and then took a sip of the milky tea. It was warm and soothing and even though chamomile wasn’t her first choice of teas and definitely not the one she’d have chosen for an accompaniment to soy creamer, she had to admit that, from the first sip, it seemed to settle her nerves a little.
She swallowed a few hot gulps and then continued where she’d left off. “I’ve been thinking a lot about it since our brief stop at the airport. My guess is that Teresa stumbled upon something while in New York. Maybe this Brandt guy knows about it too. Maybe they were even partners or something. But whatever it was she discovered or overheard or figured out – got her killed.”
And Max, came the silent thought that followed.
Jack took another sip of his tea and mulled that over. He’d been thinking along the same lines.
“You make enough for all of us, da’?”
Jack and Annabelle turned as Clara walked into the kitchen, closely followed by Cassie, Dylan and Alex. Now the whole group was together. Except for Beatrice, whom Annabelle guessed was still sleeping off the effects of one too many diminutive, over-priced bottles of airplane liquor.
“Of course, dear daughter,” Jack replied wryly. “I always consider everyone affected by each and every one of my actions.” His deep voice dripped of sarcasm, and in his British accent, it was nearly taunting. “It would be selfish and inconsiderate of me to do otherwise.”
Annabelle’s brows rose, as did Cassie’s and even Alex’s. There was more than a little double meaning to Jack’s words, and the narrowed gaze that his daughter shot in his direction confirmed as much.
Clara gave the pot a sniff and wrinkled her nose. “Chamomile. Not my cup o’ tea.”
“I’ll take some,” Cassie interjected, brushing past everyone to move to the cupboard where she’d correctly guessed that the coffee mugs would be located. She pulled one down and turned to face the others.
“So, when do we leave?” She asked as she lifted the pot off of the stove and poured a good helping into her mug.
“Soon,” Annabelle answered, opening the fridge to get the creamer for her friend.
“Wow. Tea on the stove. Quaint but cool.” Cassie returned the pot to its place and took the creamer from Annabelle with a nod of thanks.
“Microwave your tea in England and the queen will have you drawn and quartered,” Annabelle offered, smiling softly.
Jack shook his head once and put his empty mug in the sink. When he turned and made to leave the kitchen, everyone stepped back, affording him the room. Annabelle wondered at their actions. It was amazing to her how some people simply commanded the area around them, demanding a certain amount of deference and space.
When he was gone, Alex opened the fridge, took out a can of soda, and followed his employer out of the kitchen. Dylan followed, wearing a distracted expression and leaving Annabelle, Clara and Cassie behind in the kitchen.
“So, what’s the deal, Clara? Did you seriously just decide to visit, on a whim, and now was the best time?” Annabelle asked, pinning the teenager with a hard gaze. She’d had some time to consider Clara’s actions and, while on the face of them, they might appear to be the normal rebellious and spontaneous actions of a teenage British girl who hadn’t seen the states and needed an excuse to do so, the truth was, the timing was a little too off on all fronts.
Clara would still be in school in England. If Annabelle was at all familiar with the academic systems in Jack’s territory, then Clara was finished with her required, or as they termed it, her “compulsory” education, but just like in the states, education didn’t stop there. Clara would have begun college or would currently be stuck right smack in the middle of what the British termed “sixth form college”. Annabelle likened it to community college or maybe even finishing school. But whether she was in sixth form or had already begun at some University in England, this time of year would be testing time. So, for Clara, now was literally the worst time to be absent from her classes.
Clara narrowed her gaze on Annabelle and leaned casually up against the counter. She chewed on her cheek for a moment, perhaps wondering whether or not she should bother explaining herself to the woman in front of her.
“You know, I was sort of wondering the same thing,” Cassie said softly before she took another sip of her tea, eyeing the girl over the rim of her steaming mug.
Clara snorted and then straightened. Then she tossed a long lock of her jet-black dyed hair over her shoulder and brushed past the two of them to exit the kitchen.
When she was gone, Annabelle and Cassie looked at each other. They shrugged simultaneously and returned to their teas.
Chapter Twelve