I slipped through the throng of ski enthusiasts and socialites in the opulent lobby. My destination: a secluded alcove near the resort’s back exit, draped in shadows and mystery, or maybe that was just the over-the-top Victorian curtains. I had texted Lucas, and this had been his suggested meeting place. I kinda dug the vibe.
“Lucas,” I whispered, spotting his broad-shouldered silhouette against the window, snow-capped mountains painting a dramatic backdrop. He turned, his detective eyes narrowing—not in suspicion, but more like the squint you get when you’re trying not to sneeze.
“Quiet as a cat, Penny,” he said with a hint of admiration—or was it relief? His rugged face softened as I approached, and I could almost hear Sophie cooing about how we were “so meant to be.” If only she knew our rendezvous were less champagne and roses and more crime scenes and alibis.
“Listen.” I brandished my notepad, flipping to a page marked with an overly enthusiastic doodle of a magnifying glass. “I’ve been doing some sleuthing of my own.”
“Have you now?” Lucas leaned in, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. He was trying to stay professional, bless him, but there was no hiding the glint in his eye. “I told you to lay low.”
“First off, Mrs. Peacock is out—turns out her so-called ‘poisonous’ brooch is just really tacky costume jewelry. And Colonel Mustard? The man couldn’t murder a fly; he fainted at the sight of the body.” I ticked the names off on my fingers, savoring the moment.
“Anyone else?” Lucas asked, smirking, taking a sip from his mug of something dark and undoubtedly strong. His eyebrows rose, silently urging me to go on.
“Let’s see… oh, yes! Miss Scarlet’s alibi checks out. She was getting a hot stone massage during the time of the murder. The masseuse swears by it, and trust me, those stones were scalding enough to fry any lies.” I paused for dramatic effect, watching Lucas nod thoughtfully.
“Good work, Penny. Seems you have a knack for this.” He flashed a grin that made me momentarily forget we were discussing potential killers.
“Thanks, but don’t think I’m stopping here. This list is getting shorter, and I have a hunch the real culprit is sweating more than Miss Scarlet under those volcanic rocks.” I tapped my temple, hoping my intuition was more than just caffeine-induced confidence.
“Great work so far,” Lucas said.
“Careful, though,” I added with a wink. “One day, I might just out-detective you, Detective Bennett.”
“Is that a challenge, Miss Hawthorne?” Lucas’s chuckle echoed softly in our clandestine corner.
“Consider it a promise.” And with that, I tucked the notepad back into my pocket, ready to dive back into the fray. Because when it came to solving mysteries or brewing the perfect cup of tea, I never shied away from a little friendly competition.
“In all seriousness, though, I’ve been interviewing staff, looking for clues. And I talked to Niklaus Gerber. He was a rival of Stefan, but he has a pretty good alibi.”
Lucas’s smile faded as quickly as foam on a poorly pulled espresso. He glanced over his shoulder, scanning the secluded nook we’d chosen for its discretion, then leveled his gaze back at me. “Penny,” he started, his voice dropping to a murmur that carried the weight of his badge, “this isn’t a game. You’re a civilian. It’s commendable that you want to help, but it’s also dangerous. You shouldn’t be investigating this murder alone.”
“Lucas, I appreciate the concern, really. But I can’t just sit back and sip oolong while there’s a killer on the loose, especially one who’s trying to frame me. Besides, I’ve handled more than my fair share of perilous situations.”
“The Great Steeping Incident? This is murder, Penny.”
“Semantics,” I replied with a dismissive wave of my hand. “Danger is my middle name. Well, actually, it’s Marie, but that doesn’t sound nearly as thrilling, does it?”
I caught the flicker of exasperation in Lucas’s eyes before he masked it with that stoic detective look. “You’re not bulletproof, Penny. These suspects are not overbaked confections. They’re real, and they’re ruthless.”
“I know I’m not bulletproof, and I don’t plan to test that theory,” I assured him, matching his serious tone. “Look, I know my way around more than just a teapot. My intuition hasn’t led me astray yet.”
Lucas ran a hand through his hair, the gesture betraying his frustration. “Your intuition could lead you straight into trouble. And what then? I can’t have your safety on my conscience.”
“Then it’s a good thing my conscience comes with an excellent sense of self-preservation,” I countered, the corner of my mouth tilting up in a half-smile. “I’ll be cautious, Lucas. Cross my heart and hope to… well, let’s not finish that sentence.”
Lucas stood, scanning the area. “We need to go check the kitchen where you blended your tea. I’ve gotten the key from Jean-Luc. Will you accompany me? I need you to tell me if anything is missing from your supplies.”
I stood as well, nodding. “Of course.”
With that, we inconspicuously made our way through the bustling crowd of the resort’s main hall, slipping past reveling guests and miraculously dodging a wayward waiter juggling a tray of champagne flutes. We slipped toward the kitchen, hidden away behind a pair of unassuming wooden doors. Jean-Luc was a fierce guardian of his realm, but Lucas had managed to secure us entry with an official request.
The aromas hit me first as we stepped into the warm heart of the resort. Tantalizing scents of baking bread, simmering sauces, and a hint of steeped spices wafted through the air. But as enchanting as those smells were, it was my modest corner tucked at one side of the bustling space that really felt like home. This was the catering space for visiting chefs and food service for weddings and the like. There was a large metal lockbox sitting on the counter, gray and drab and looking a little creepy, if I was being honest.
“We cataloged everything after—then secured it. Before we take it to evidence, I need you to look through it all.”
“Evidence?” My heart picked up. “Is there a reason you need it for evidence?”
Lucas hesitated, but then admitted, “The tox report came in on Stefan. He was poisoned by aconite.”
My breath stuttered in my lungs. “B-but I—I didn’t…”
Has he brought me here alone to arrest me?
Lucas put a hand on my shoulder. “I know, Penny. Aconite was the only thing in his system—nothing else as far as the ingredients in your brew. So he didn’t even drink your tea blend. Your tea wasn’t the culprit. But whoever did this got aconite from somewhere. Can you check your supplies?”
I took a steadying breath and nodded.
Lucas unlocked the metal box with another key and then slid a nearby kitchen scale closer to me. There were all my herbs in labeled jars. I immediately began taking inventory, weighing each and comparing them to the temporary log in my phone. Green Sencha from Japan? Check. Lush oolong from Taiwan? Present. Aromatic Assam from India? Right where I left it. I diligently went through everything—from my basic black tea right down to my treasured white silver needle buds—all present, all accounted for.
Lucas watched me, arms folded across his chest. “Find anything unusual?”
“Well, not in the way you mean,” I replied, flashing him a grin. “My peppermint leaves are a bit crumpled, but no sign of foul play there.”
He didn’t return my smile. “What about the dangerous stuff? The toxic plants?”
“Ah, the aconite.” I pointed to a small box within the metal box, one with a tiny lock, which I opened with a tiny bronze key that lived on a chain around my neck.
I opened the box to reveal a selection of more potent botanical elements. Small pouches of dried plants and seeds lined up meticulously by their Latin names. Lucas eyed the box warily as I pulled out the packet labeled “Aconitum napellus.”
I felt its weight in my hand, the careful precision of my measurements echoing back at me from hours spent in this room. I placed it on the scale. It was all there—none missing.
“I keep rigorous notes on usage,” I explained to Lucas, gesturing to my phone. I recorded every gram of every ingredient used in my blends, from basic chamomile to the most potent monkshood. “I can fetch the physical logbook from my room if you’d like to cross-check the amounts. I use a notebook for a backup in case of digital failure. I also have a personal stash in my room, which does not contain aconite, but you should probably catalog that, too.”
He nodded. “That’s wonderful. All strong evidence—along with your cooperation—that will steer the investigation to the real culprit.”
And just like that, my heart fluttered in an entirely un-caffeine-related manner. Lucas Bennett, Interpol super-detective, trusted me—Penelope Hawthorne, tea shop owner and current Swiss Alps amateur sleuth.
Filing away that little victory for later, I closed the box with a satisfying click and returned the key to its resting place around my neck. Lucas locked up the outer box.
Having completed our inspection of the kitchen, Lucas and I then set out back toward the resort’s main hall. It was time to face our audience once more. In the midst of all this chaos—accusations flying, alliances shifting like loose snow on a mountainside—it was oddly comforting to have him by my side. Maybe he was just doing his job, maintaining order in the face of danger. Or maybe there was more to it than that.
As we reentered the grand room filled with chattering guests and tinkling piano music, I cast a sideways glance at him, and he at me. But his was decidedly more—dour.
“What?” I asked.
“Promise me you’ll be careful,” he said, his expression softening as we saw down at an empty table.
“Scout’s honor,” I parroted him and held up two fingers, though the closest I’d ever come to being a Scout was rescuing a lost pigeon from my balcony.
“Good. Because I—” Lucas cut himself off, the words hanging between us like a dare to be spoken.
“Because you…?” I prodded, my curiosity piqued.
“Never mind.” He shook his head.
My stomach did that Lucas-inspired flutter again.
“You said partners in crime-solving, remember?” I reminded him, my lips curving into a playful smile despite the gravity of our conversation.
“Fine. I—I told you I’m moonlighting here on leave, but that’s not all.”
I gasped, leaning across the table. “You’re on another case.”
Lucas’s eyes widened. “How did you know that?”
I felt my cheeks heat. “I watch a lot of TV. Sorry—but the cop on vacation doing a side-hustle in an idyllic location? Always on another case. Does it have to do with Stefan?”
He shook his head. “A notorious embezzler rumored to be in these parts. If I collar him, I have superiors who would be very pleased.”
“So you’re here to move up the ranks?” I asked, surprised.
“The higher up I go, the more power I have to help.”
My surprise softened, replaced by a warm feeling I didn’t want to examine.
“Am I still your partner, then? You have time for both cases?”
His eyes darkened, reflecting the shadows cast by the towering pines around us.
“Yes, but your being involved with this comes with risks like becoming the next victim,” he said. “Let’s avoid that. I couldn’t forgive myself if—”
“Lucas,” I cut in, reaching across the table and placing a hand on his arm. “I’m not some delicate teacup that shatters at the slightest mishap. I’m more of a cast-iron kettle—resilient and ready for the heat.”
“Still,” he persisted, “tread carefully.”
“Only if you promise to keep me in the loop. No secrets, okay?”
“Deal,” he agreed, and there was an unspoken understanding that, despite the risks, we were both too invested to step back now.
I twisted the silver locket—and the tiny key—around my neck, a new habit I’d formed. Lucas ran his hand through his tousled hair, a gesture that did little to tame it but much to emphasize his concern. His phone rang. He looked at it and immediately stood, frowning.
“I have to go. Stay out of trouble.”
Before I could promise—a thin one, at that—he was gone. Once he had disappeared into the throng of oblivious vacationers, I leaned against the cool stone wall of the secluded alcove we’d chosen for our clandestine meeting. My mind replayed our conversation, each word weighed. It was one thing to chase down the perfect camellia sinensis leaf, quite another to chase a killer. Was I steeping myself in too much danger? Sure, I had a knack for reading people, for sensing the subtle hints of truth hidden beneath layers of deception—skills that served me equally well in both my shop and this investigation. But there was no denying the stakes were higher here. One wrong move could lead to a bitter end.