Dragonwell Dead

15

Theodosia was pondering the whole dilemma. Thinking about how Angie Congdon had asked for her help. Feeling bad that she hadn’t really been able to provide any. And was interrupted when Delaine and Bobby Wayne stuck their heads in her office to say good-bye.

“We’re taking off now,” said Delaine, giving a casual wave. “Oh, can we maybe slip out your back door? When we got here, Church Street was all parked up, so I had Bobby Wayne pull around back. I knew you had two reserved parking spots back there and figured you wouldn’t mind.”

“By all means go out this way,” said Theodosia, starting for the back door. “But I’m going to have to move a couple things.” She kicked at a carton of tea candles, then bent down and picked up a flat box. It was heaped with some of the spillover from her perpetually messy desk.

“Sorry,” she told Delaine and Bobby Wayne as they edged past her. “I know I’m not the tidiest person . . .”

“You should see my office,” said Bobby Wayne. “It’s got . . .” He stopped abruptly, his eyes suddenly fixed on the box in Theodosia’s hands.

“What?” she asked him.

Bobby Wayne looked puzzled. “That’s some of the stuff that belonged to Mark?”

“Uh, yeah,” said Theodosia, glancing down at it. “I guess it is. Some of it is.” She almost forgot that she’d removed a few things from the two boxes before Haley carried them upstairs.

Bobby Wayne scratched at the back of his neck. “That little ceramic elephant . . . ?”

Theodosia stared at a shiny gray elephant with bright eyes and a curled trunk. It was a cute little collectible, the kind of thing you might put on a small shelf in your dining room along with other small knickknacks.

“I’d swear there’s one just like it at our office,” said Bobby Wayne. He frowned, his mind struggling to dredge up the exact visual. “Well, maybe not tucked in an office, per se, but sitting out on somebody’s workstation.”

Theodosia pounced on his words. “Whose workstation? Do you remember?”

Now Bobby Wayne looked nervous and a little unhappy.

“I think it might be Fayne Hamilton’s.”

As if things weren’t crazy enough, Drayton was running around like a chicken with its head cut off, trying to get organized for his afternoon tea tasting.

“Our customers will be here in less than ten minutes!” he screeched, checking his watch for the umpteenth time. He was expecting a group of about a dozen women who had nicknamed themselves the Patriot’s Point Tea Club and showed up at the Indigo Tea Shop three or four times a year. Obviously, Drayton wanted everything to be absolutely perfect for these repeat customers.

“Take it easy, Drayton,” said Haley. “I’ve got everything lined up—scones, shrimp bisque, and cheese straws, plus cucumber–goat cheese sandwiches on herb bread. So the kitchen’s good to go. And Miss Dimple has the two round tables all set up. She went with the French Garden china by Villeroy & Boch and the Ashmont pattern flatware.”

“That’s all fine and fancy,” replied Drayton, “but I’m still playing catch-up and tinkering with tea selections.” He rolled his eyes as if to punctuate his sentence.

Theodosia edged over to where Drayton was dithering amid the chirp and hiss of teapots. “What do you think might be on the menu?” she asked him. “Tea-wise, I mean.”

“A Nilgiri for sure,” said Drayton.

“Sounds like an excellent choice,” said Theodosia. Nilgiris were fragrant black teas that imparted a slight “green” flavor. Almost vegetable-like.

“And a traditional black tea from the Ambootia Tea Estate in the district of Darjeeling,” continued Drayton.

Theodosia nodded. As always, Drayton was spot-on with his tea selections. His vast experience as a master tea taster and blender always paid off big time. He had the know-how even if his confidence and patience occasionally faltered.

“And I’m thinking of tossing in a tea from the Gopaldhara Tea Estate,” finished Drayton. He gave a slight shrug as if to indicate it should be okay.

“The Gopaldhara has a slight honey and sandalwood essence,” added Charlie. Despite Drayton’s persnickety mood, she was hanging in there.

Theodosia gazed at the two of them as a smile played slowly at her mouth.

“What?” demanded Drayton. “You see a problem?”

“No,” said Theodosia. “What I see are two people trying their darndest to put together a fantastic tea-tasting experience. All I can say is I’m delighted you’re working together so well.”

This last remark caught Drayton completely off guard. “We are?” he asked, fingering his bow tie and glancing nervously at Charlie. “Really?”

Just as Haley and Miss Dimple were delivering bowls of shrimp bisque to the Patriot’s Point Tea Club ladies, just as Drayton and Charlie were pouring steaming pots of Darjeeling, Leah Shalimar strolled into the Indigo Tea Shop.

“I couldn’t stay away!” she told a surprised Theodosia.

It was getting late and Theodosia hadn’t really expected many more customers, but she gladly led Leah to a small table set for two.

“The idea of enjoying some of your wonderful tea and scones kept pulling at me,” confessed Leah. “So I decided the best thing to do was drive over here.” She peered up at Theodosia. “You’re still serving, aren’t you? I saw those other tables of . . .”

“We’re delighted to have you,” said Theodosia. “And Haley’s been ferociously productive in the kitchen today, so depending on just how hungry you are you’ve got your choice of a full tea luncheon or an afternoon repast of tea and scones.”

“What would the full tea luncheon be?” asked Leah. “I’ve been running errands ever since the funeral this morning and haven’t had a bite to eat.”

Theodosia thought for a moment. They still had quiche from lunch. And the sandwiches that Haley had made for the tea club. And then there was . . .

“Wait a minute,” said Leah. “Why don’t you just surprise me? You know I adore surprises.” Her eyes wandered over to where Drayton was chatting with the tea club.

“All right,” said Theodosia. “We’ll fix a little tray for you.” But at the same time she was wondering if Leah had really dropped in for tea or if she was scouting Drayton again. Or just . . . scouting?

Theodosia’s questions were pretty much answered when, ten minutes later, Leah asked her to sit down at her table. And, out of the blue, began pitching her on investment products.

“A woman in your position really needs to employ a complete portfolio of financial products,” said Leah, as she nibbled daintily at a cucumber-and-goat-cheese sandwich. In your younger years,” said Leah, nodding sweetly at Theodosia, “it’s important to build wealth. Of course, as you get older and your portfolio increases in value, your strategy should then shift to conserving wealth.”

“This building wealth thing,” said Theodosia. “What exactly are you recommending? Stocks? Mutual funds?”

Leah shook her head tolerantly, as though Theodosia had just given the wrong answer in a school spelling bee. “Way too conservative,” she told her. “Even if you pick what you think might be a more volatile sector, like oil or telecommunications, you’re not necessarily going to see guaranteed growth. Not in double digits anyway.”

“I didn’t think anything was guaranteed,” said Theodosia. She knew a little bit about investing. Her father had been a lawyer, had left her a small portfolio when he died. And Theodosia knew that risk was always a factor in investing.

Leah reached for her teapot and refilled her teacup. “Let me tell you a little about FOREX,” she began.

Uh-oh, thought Theodosia.

“FOREX basically means foreign exchange,” said Leah. “You invest a certain amount of money to purchase a foreign currency futures contract.”

“So it’s speculating on the value of foreign currency,” said Theodosia.

“I’m impressed,” said Leah Shalimar, “that you grasped the basic concept so readily. Believe me, it took me a while to understand the nuances.”

“Not having the best, uh, geopolitical understanding of the world’s currency markets,” said Theodosia, “I think I’d probably be pretty awful at this.”

“Ah,” said Leah, holding up a finger. “The beauty of our FOREX product is that you don’t need to be particularly knowledgeable in this area. We work through a wonderful company called Sun Commonwealth Trust. They’re the FCM, or futures commission merchant, who administers the plan.”

“So Loveday and Luxor is basically brokering their product,” said Theodosia.

Leah nodded. “In a way. And we feel extremely fortunate to be affiliated with Sun Commonwealth. As FCMs go they have a stellar reputation.”

“Really,” said Theodosia.

“They garnered a sidebar in Futures magazine not too long ago,” Leah said knowingly.

“Ah,” said Theodosia, who’d never read Futures magazine. It was as far from her daily realm as a gossip tabloid.

“So what I’m going to do,” said Leah, reaching into her caramel-colored leather handbag, “is leave one of our brochures with you.” She placed a small four-color brochure on the table and slid it toward Theodosia. On the cover was a montage photo of various foreign currency and gold coins. Leah’s business card was stapled to the top of the brochure. “Read through it,” urged Leah. “At your leisure, of course. Then we can get together and I’ll answer any questions you might have.” She favored Theodosia with a bright smile, a salesperson’s smile.

“Great,” said Theodosia, slipping the little brochure into her apron pocket and knowing this type of investment was way too rich for her blood. She gazed across the table at Leah, who was looking very pleased with her little pitch.

“Can I ask you a question?” said Theodosia.

“Shoot,” said Leah. She reached down, picked up her scone and took a dainty bite.

“Do you think Fayne Hamilton was in love with Mark Congdon?”

Leah stopped chewing and lifted her head to stare at Theodosia. “What a funny question,” she said. “Impertinent, but a little juicy, too.”

Theodosia sat there, letting Leah have her fun. Finally, the woman answered.

“It was probably just a silly little crush,” said Leah. “After all, lots of secretaries fall in love with their bosses. Or coworkers.” Leah shrugged. “Offices are kind of a breeding ground for that kind of familiarity. Everyone works close, you’re together almost every day . . .”

“But do you think she was in love with him?” asked Theodosia, knowing that people caught in the throes of passion, or perceived passion, will sometimes go to extremes. Driven by sheer emotion, they often made unwise decisions.

“Was she in love,” said Leah, drawing out the last word. “I don’t know.” She shrugged her thin shoulders. “Maybe. Probably.”

Theodosia decided to finish out her day by going through some of the tea and tableware catalogs in her office. Dreaming over the new Wedgwood Bloomers plates that featured a giant, hand-painted rose, picking out a few tea novelty items. She was going to order some rock sugar as well as some green-tea anemones. The anemones were spring-picked tea leaves that had been bundled together, tied with string, and flattened into a rosette. They were basically display teas—you put an anemone in a glass teapot and watched it bloom. A couple of customers had requested anemones, so she was going to order a few. See if other people were charmed by them, too.

Then there was the silver samovar she had her eye on. An elegant, convenient way to heat water, brew tea, and then serve it as well. This one was an updated version of the classic Russian tea samovar and was in the four-hundred-dollar range. A little steep, but they could certainly use it when catering events.

Just as Theodosia jotted down the catalog number for the silver samovar, the phone rang. Knowing everyone was still busy pouring tea and serving the last course of fruit parfait, she picked up the phone herself.

The man on the line identified himself as John Darnell, the fire marshal for the Charleston Fire Department. Theodosia had known that sooner or later he’d get around to her, wanting to ask questions about what she’d seen or done the day of the Featherbed House fire.

Darnell wasted no time with his line of questioning.

“I understand you were one of the first people on the scene,” he said, sounding conversational and rather low-key.

“That’s right,” replied Theodosia.

“Did you happen to see anyone on or near the property? Anyone who was lingering, or driving by, or maybe just seemed a little out of place?”

Theodosia hesitated. “Is this a criminal investigation?”

“This is an investigation,” responded John Darnell. “Did you see someone, Miss Browning?” he prompted. His tone had suddenly turned a touch more official.

“There was one young woman,” replied Theodosia. “I noticed her walking away from the Featherbed House just as I was driving toward it.”

“You personally know this woman?” asked Darnell. “Or you can describe her?”

Theodosia took a deep breath, then plunged ahead. “Her name is Fayne Hamilton. And she actually works at the same company where Mark Congdon worked.”

“Mark Congdon, the owner of the property,” said the fire marshal. Now his voice was neutral, flat. But there was the sound of papers rustling in the background and Theodosia could tell Darnell was checking through reports as he chatted with her on the phone.

“Mark Congdon, the homicide victim,” said John Darnell.

“That’s right,” said Theodosia. She felt bad about siccing the fire marshal on Fayne Hamilton. But what could she do? The girl had been seen in the vicinity. And Theodosia did have her own suspicions as well.

“Can you think of anyone else you might have seen that day?” asked Darnell.

Theodosia thought about Harlan Noble standing in the crowd, watching the fire with his dark, hooded eyes. He’d been coveting Mark’s orchids earlier, had even tried to purchase them. Would Harlan destroy them if he couldn’t get his hands on them? Theodosia thought about Leah Shalimar, too. Now heading up the division that Mark would have headed up. And she thought about Teddy Vickers, who was suddenly aspiring to be the new owner of the Featherbed House.

So many suspects, she thought to herself. So many questions.

But the fire marshal still had a few surprising questions of his own.

“Miss Browning, how long have you been personally acquainted with Angie Congdon?”

Theodosia thought for a second. “Maybe three, three and a half years.”

“Do you know if there have been any recent problems at the Featherbed House?”

“Problems?” said Theodosia, wondering just where this line of questioning was headed. “I doubt they had any more problems than any other small business,” she finally replied.

The fire marshal paused slightly, as if gathering his thoughts. “Do you know if there were any problems between Mrs. Congdon and her husband?”

Time stood still for Theodosia.

“You’re asking about Angie?” said a stunned Theodosia. “And your questions are leading to doubts about her character?”

John Darnell cleared his throat. “Look at it from our point of view, ma’am. In a complex situation such as this, we have to take a hard look at everyone.”

It had been a long day and everyone was exhausted. Drayton and Charlie sat sprawled on chairs in the tea room. Miss Dimple was gamely clearing away dirty dishes. Haley rattled pots and pans in the kitchen. But it wasn’t her usual “let’s finish this up and get to night class” rattle. She seemed like she was done in, too.

“You look tired, Drayton,” said Theodosia. “You, too, Charlie.” Drayton was far from being a young man and Charlie wasn’t yet used to flying around the tea shop all day, staying on her feet.

“I am tired,” agreed Drayton. He glanced sideways at Charlie. “We both are.”

Charlie nodded in agreement, seemingly too exhausted to utter a single word.

“Then you two scoot on home,” said Theodosia. “I’ll finish up here.”

“Thanks,” said Charlie. She pulled herself to her feet, un-did her apron. “See you tomorrow.”

“Bye.” Drayton waved.

“Well, you’ve certainly mellowed,” commented Theodosia.

“I’m like fine wine,” said Drayton. “The older I get, the mellower my flavor.”

“I’d say you were more like cheese,” said Haley, ducking through the curtains with a tray of freshly washed cups and saucers. “The older you get, the sharper you get.”

Drayton pursed his lips and arched a single eyebrow. “You see what I have to put up with?” he said to Theodosia.

Theodosia fixed him with a quirky grin. “Haley does have a point.”

Drayton exhaled and shook his head, as if to clear it.

“What?” said Theodosia. “Surely you didn’t take our little comments to heart?”

“No,” said Drayton slowly. “It’s just that I’ve been contemplating something all day long. Running it through my mind. And I don’t know if it’s a good idea or a very foolish one.”

“Something to do with Mark’s funeral?” asked Theodosia. She realized that Drayton had been jumpy ever since the service this morning.

“No,” said Drayton. Then he stopped and thought for a moment. “Well, it’s slightly related. What I’ve been noodling about in my head all afternoon is the notion of a quick collecting trip tomorrow morning.”

“A collecting trip,” repeated Theodosia. She wasn’t quite sure where this was headed. Or exactly what Drayton intended to collect.

“You know,” said Drayton. “Drive up to those swamps above Edgefield, see if I can find a monkey-face orchid to replace the one that was destroyed in the fire.”

This grabbed Haley’s attention. “What?” she squawked. “Are you serious?”

Drayton swiped at his cheek with the back of his hand. “I know it sounds slightly farfetched. But if I found a monkey-face orchid, I could enter it in the Orchid Lights show on Saturday.” He dropped his voice. “In honor of Mark.”

“I think that’s a lovely idea,” said Theodosia. It was just like Drayton to come up with that kind of thoughtful tribute.

“The thing of it is,” said Drayton unhappily, “I’m going to need a canoe. Do you know anyone who has a canoe?”

“I can take care of that,” said Theodosia, thinking of Parker Scully. He was an outdoor type of guy and she was almost positive he owned a canoe. Besides, Parker had invited her to drop by Solstice tonight, to taste test some new drinks with him. If she called him up now, he could probably have the canoe waiting for her.

But Haley was still incredulous. “Are you crazy?” she exclaimed. “You want to go paddling around in some snake-infested swamp looking for a rare flower? That’s like searching for the proverbial needle in a haystack. Your chances are slim to none.” She crossed her arms and shook her head. “No, Drayton, don’t do it. It’s way too crazy an idea.”

“Maybe it’s just wishful thinking on my part,” said Drayton. “Still, I’m determined to give it a try.”

“I’ll go with you,” offered Theodosia. “I think it’s actually a fine idea.”

“Wha . . .” began Haley.

Theodosia gazed at her earnestly. “It’s Drayton’s way of helping put things a little bit right.”

“But who’s going to mind the tea shop?” demanded Haley. “Friday’s always our busiest day.”

“Charlie will be here to help,” replied Drayton.

“You mean you actually trust her?” asked Haley.

Drayton looked pained. “Well . . . yes. And of course we can always ask Miss Dimple.”

“I suppose,” said Haley.

“Ask Miss Dimple what?” said Miss Dimple as she emerged from the back, looking like a plump senior citizen elf.

“To help out again tomorrow,” said Haley. She was still incredulous that Theodosia and Drayton were just going to take off in hope of finding a rare orchid. “Can you?”

Miss Dimple grinned from ear to ear. “Honey, I’d love to,” she said. “You know this is like a second home to me.”

“Then it’s settled,” said Theodosia. “Tomorrow we search the tropical wetlands of South Carolina for rare plants.”

“Lots of luck,” said Haley, shaking her head. “Because you’re sure going to need it.”