The Carsons only stayed for another hour. Joan and Elizabeth walked them out, to take Frankie to the kennels and then to the parking area by the stables. When they came back in, Carter and Sophie were still in the breakfast room, dividing up the last of the lukewarm tea. Sophie nodded to her, and Joan guessed that her father had been filled in on the call from Brooklyn and what they had surmised.
"You made the right call," Carter said. "Brooklyn called," he added, as Elizabeth slid back into the seat beside his wheelchair. "In Butterfly McQueen mode, her phone missing, presumed stolen."
"Ah. And speaking in code because she feared someone was listening in on the unsecured line." Elizabeth took the lid off the teapot and glanced inside. "Are we going to need a fresh batch while we talk?"
"I'm guessing Brooklyn has been in a situation like this before? Butterfly McQueen?" Sophie said.
"Prissy, from 'Gone with the Wind,'" Joan explained. "We were wondering if there was something going on we didn't know about. Something in her past, maybe whatever is going on between her and Sheriff Holmes?"
"I should hope not," Carter murmured. He frowned, staring at a spot in the air a few inches above the table's surface. "Yes, dear, I think we'll need another pot."