Dragonwell Dead atsm-8

by Laura Childs

  It was, Theodosia thought, a decidedly odd and Tidwell-esque message. But she plunged ahead and left her own message anyway.

  “Detective Tidwell? It’s Theodosia again. Browning. Sorry to bother you, but if you have any time at all, could you possibly check on a company by the name of Sun Commonwealth Trust? It’s a FOREX company headquartered in the Bahamas. Oh, uh, FOREX means foreign exchange currency, in case you didn’t know. Anyway, Mark Congdon had a ticket to the Bahamas, to Nassau. So could you possibly find out if he had a meeting scheduled? You could, uh, tell them you’re investigating his death or something. So, uh, okay. Thanks so much. Bye.”

  23

  “I really like the moss you guys brought back from your collecting trip,” said Haley. “It’s so cute and cuddly-looking.” She was sitting at one of the tables in the Indigo Tea Shop, wearing plastic food-service gloves and arranging her homemade truffles on several three-tiered serving trays.

  “You better bag those trays in plastic when you’re finished,” Drayton advised her. “You don’t want your chocolates to get all dried out and crumbly.” He was standing at the table next to her, studying his newly potted orchid. He’d arranged the monkey-face orchid in an oxblood-red Chinese pot and snugged a small piece of moss next to it.

  “Don’t worry,” Haley told him. “They’ll be bagged and tagged and ready to go.” She straightened up, studied his orchid. “When do you have to get your orchid over to the Heritage Society?”

  “Everything’s going over together,” Drayton told her. “Food, tea, truffles, and my orchid. We’ll load it all into Theo’s Jeep.”

  “Think it’ll all fit?” asked Haley.

  “It has to,” said Drayton. “We’ve got so much to do, there really isn’t time to make two trips.”

  Haley nodded her head toward the front counter, where Theodosia and Charlie were packing up an order of scones and tea to go. “Is Charlie coming along?”

  “Not tonight,” said Drayton. “I told her we didn’t need her.”

  “Did she want to come along and help?” asked Haley.

  “Don’t know,” said Drayton. “I never asked.”

  “Drayton,” said Haley in a scolding tone. “What’s with you, anyway?”

  “What?” asked Drayton, still focused on his orchid.

  “Be nice,” said Haley.

  “I’m always a gentleman,” Drayton assured her.

  “Yeah, right,” said Haley. She looked over toward Theodosia, made a motion for her to please come over.

  Theodosia, who was juggling orders and trying to answer all the various and sundry business questions that Charlie kept firing at her, nodded toward Haley, even managed a few steps in her direction. But when the telephone on the front counter shrilled, Theodosia reversed course and grabbed for it.

  “Indigo Tea Shop,” said Theodosia. She tried to sound cordial, keep the tension out of her voice. They didn’t have a lot of customers to take care of this afternoon, but for some reason phone orders kept pouring in left and right.

  “Miss Browning?” came a man’s voice.

  “Yes?” said Theodosia, thinking he sounded familiar. Someone from the neighborhood?

  “This is John Darnell, the fire marshal . . .”

  “Oh yes,” chimed in Theodosia, suddenly on full alert.

  “Sheriff Billings asked me to call you. I’m not usually in the habit of doing this, especially in the middle of an investigation, but it seems we have some exceptionally good news.”

  “Okay . . .” said Theodosia.

  “You are, of course, acquainted with one of the prime suspects, a Miss Fayne Hamilton?”

  “Yes,” said Theodosia.

  “After obtaining a search warrant, investigators discovered a significant amount of dimethyl ketone, 2-propanone in Miss Hamilton’s garage. In layman’s terms, acetone. Definitely a fire accelerant.”

  “Dear lord,” breathed Theodosia. She turned her back to Charlie, lowered her voice. “Do you think it might have been used to start the fire at the Featherbed House?”

  “Again, our investigation is still in the preliminary stages,” said Darnell. “We need to do gas chromatographic testing, but it would appear to be the same type of liquid ketone detected at the scene.”

  Theodosia put a hand to her chest, stunned. All she could think was, Poor Fayne. Poor misguided girl. This one stupid, impulsive act has probably changed the course of her life forever.

  Theodosia cleared her throat. “Is she in custody?”

  “She is.”

  Theodosia’s voice still cracked as she asked her next question. “Will Sheriff Billings be questioning Fayne in the death of Mark Congdon?”

  There were a few moments of silence at the other end of the line and then John Darnell said, “My understanding is he will be speaking to her at length about that particular homicide.”

  Theodosia let out a long sigh. So there it was. The conclusion to what had been a terrible, tragic week. “Have you spoken with Angie Congdon yet?” Theodosia asked as an afterthought.

  “I’ll be doing that in person very shortly,” said Darnell.

  Theodosia thanked the fire marshal, then hung up the phone and gazed around the tea shop. Tea kettles were blowing insistent little puffs of steam into the air, teapots released perfumed scents of oolong and chamomile, golden sunlight filtered through the leaded windows. It looked like any other day at the Indigo Tea Shop, but it suddenly felt like a heavy burden had been lifted from Theodosia’s shoulders. The madness, the investigation, the pointing of fingers and nasty suspicions were finally, mercifully over. Now they could all get on with the business of coming to grips with what happened and work through the healing process. Tomorrow, Theodosia decided, she’d go talk to Angie Congdon. Sit with her. Offer more condolences. And, perhaps even more important, offer her friendship and help in whatever way possible.

  Hurrying over to where Drayton and Haley were confab-bing, Theodosia immediately broke the news to them.

  “Wow!” exclaimed Haley. “That’s great.”

  “Great?” scoffed Drayton. “Are you serious?”

  “I mean it’s great to finally know,” amended Haley. “Before, we were all so tense and suspicious. Especially when it came to Leah Shalimar and Harlan Noble.”

  “And don’t forget Teddy Vickers,” added Theodosia. “We didn’t exactly have charitable thoughts concerning him, either.”

  Haley shrugged. “Teddy is an opportunist, as you pointed out.”

  Drayton was slowly coming around to Haley’s way of thinking. “I suppose you’re right. This is for the best. Now we know that all our previous suspects are in the clear.”

  “And we can focus on tonight,” said Haley. “On Orchid Lights.” She suddenly looked a little discombobulated. “I’ve got tons to do in the kitchen yet.”

  Theodosia readily agreed. “There is a lot to do.”

  “Too much,” said Drayton. His eyes slowly traveled back to his monkey-face orchid on the table.

  Theodosia picked up on Drayton’s unease. “You’re fretting about something else,” she said. “What is it?”

  He pointed to the monkey-face orchid in the Chinese pot. “What do you think?” he asked.

  “I told him it looks real nice,” piped up Haley.

  “See?” said Drayton, throwing up his hands. “She thinks it looks nice.”

  “And it’s rare,” said Haley. “It’s got that going for it.”

  Theodosia tilted her head sideways and raised her brows. She didn’t quite see what was causing Drayton so much distress.

  Drayton plunged ahead, hoping to enlighten her. “I was hoping for spectacular,” he said, his words coming out overly loud and a bit theatrical. “So what do you think? Have I hopefully veered toward spectacular? With the orchid itself. And my arrangement?”

  Theodosia studied Drayton’s arrangement. The little orchid looked very lovely in its new pot. But was it a total showstopper? That was the big question, wasn’t it?
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br />   “It’s exotic-looking,” admitted Theodosia. “And very beautiful.”

  Drayton was beyond nervous now. “All orchids are exotic and beautiful. But do you think this one is good enough to take home a blue ribbon?”

  “After what we went through,” said Theodosia, “I certainly think you deserve one. But . . .”

  “But what?” prompted Drayton.

  “I’m no judge of orchids,” said Theodosia. “I barely know a Phalaenopsis from a bog rose. All I know is what you’ve taught me. And it’s been, what one might call, a crash course. But tonight you’re going to be judged by experienced orchid experts. It’s going to be their call as to which one is a prizewinner or not.”

  “Oh dear,” murmured Drayton, turning his full attention to the monkey-face orchid again. “And I so wanted to win a ribbon for Mark.”

  “You’re doing this in his memory,” Theodosia reminded him. “That’s a win-win situation right there.”

  Charlie had suddenly joined them. “Drayton?” she said. “You have a phone call. A Mr. Timothy Neville?”

  Drayton snatched up his orchid. “Now I suppose there’s an event crisis, too,” he said.

  “Why don’t you take the call in my office?” suggested Theodosia.

  “Thank you, I will,” said Drayton as he threaded his way across the floor of the tea room.

  “What’s the deal with Drayton?” asked Charlie. She seemed calm, unmoved by his hysteria.

  “He’s just being Drayton,” laughed Haley.

  “He’s worried about his orchid,” Theodosia told Charlie. “Thinks the display isn’t showy enough.”

  “Really,” said Charlie, studying Drayton’s arrangement. “Not showy enough, huh?”

  “Charlie,” said Theodosia. “Could you do me a really big favor?”

  “Sure thing,” said Charlie.

  “Could you put together a tea basket for tonight’s silent auction?”

  “You haven’t done that yet?” asked Haley.

  Theodosia shook her head. “Not yet.”

  “No problem,” said Charlie. “So you want me to just arrange a few things in a basket? Like tins of tea, a jar of jam, cup and saucer, things like that?”

  “Perfect,” said Theodosia. “You’re a very quick study.”

  “Not perfect,” said Haley. “We’re clean out of baskets.”

  “What about those woven grapevine baskets that have been sitting in my back office for months?” asked Theodosia.

  “Gone,” said Haley. “Dusted off and sold this past week when the contingent from Goose Creek stopped by.”

  “Really?” said Theodosia. “Okay then, maybe . . .”

  “Why don’t I just run out and get a basket,” volunteered Charlie. “It’s no big deal.”

  “Can you really?” asked Theodosia. “Gee, that’d be great.”

  Charlie was already slipping her apron over her head. “Be back in ten minutes,” she promised.

  Theodosia and Haley turned their attention to Haley’s truffle trays.

  “At any rate, these are all done,” declared Haley.

  “They’re gorgeous,” said Theodosia. Indeed, Haley had whipped up coconut-ginger truffles as well as raspberry-chocolate truffles and white chocolate–almond truffles.

  “Once we get our tables all set up at the Heritage Society tonight, I’m going to sprinkle edible flowers among the chocolates,” said Haley.

  “Edible orchids?” asked Theodosia.

  “Not quite,” said Haley, slipping plastic bags over her three-tiered trays and using a twist tie to fasten them securely at the bottom. “I’m going to put these in the back of your Jeep, okay?”

  “No problem, doors are unlocked.”

  “When I come back I’m going to tackle the tea sandwiches,” said Haley.

  “I’ll help,” said Theodosia. “How many different kinds are you planning to do?”

  “Probably three,” answered Haley.

  “Okay. We’ll let Drayton tend to the few remaining customers.”

  “I heard that,” said Drayton, coming back into the tea room.

  “Everything okay with Timothy?” asked Theodosia.

  Drayton rolled his eyes. “Arthur Roumillat and his Orchid Society members want to wait until the very last minute to set up.”

  “I suppose they’re worried about their plants,” said Theodosia.

  “I can just see them circling the block,” complained Drayton. “Waiting for the last possible moment to come swooping in.”

  Theodosia was starting to get a little worried herself. The patio at the Heritage Society wasn’t all that spacious. And they had to set up their tea table, which she still wasn’t certain was going to be one table or two tables put together. And Parker Scully had to set up his table for the Black Orchid cocktails nearby. And, of course, there were Drayton’s ice angels to contend with. Plus there were circular glass tables for guests to sit at. “It’s going to be chaos,” ventured Theodosia.

  “What isn’t chaos these days.” Drayton sighed.

  When the front door flew open ten minutes later, Theodosia knew things were not only going to be difficult, they were probably going to get contentious, too.

  “What are you doing here?” an unhappy Drayton asked their new arrival.

  Bill Glass ran a hand over his dark, slicked-back hair and glanced around the tea shop. “Jeez,” were his first words. “This place looks like a hurricane just hit.”

  “We’re dreadfully busy,” snapped Drayton. “Now what is it you require?”

  Glass aimed one of his Nikons at the table where tea sandwiches were being stacked and packed. “Just a few quick photos. You know, document the whole event.”

  “I was under the impression you were retained to photograph the actual orchid show,” said Theodosia. “The events at the Heritage Society.”

  “Nothing like getting a few candid shots,” said Glass as he slid over toward the table where cellophane-wrapped sandwiches were being packed in wicker baskets.

  “Stop right there,” ordered Drayton. “Do not help yourself to one morsel of food. That’s an order.”

  “C’mon,” wheedled Glass. “You’ve got enough food here to feed an army.”

  Theodosia hustled over to Bill Glass. “You can help yourself to tea and sandwiches tonight,” she told him. “With the rest of the guests.”

  Glass raised his camera and clicked off a quick sequence of shots in her face, causing Theodosia to blink.

  “You’re no fun, tea lady,” he told her. “Why such a party pooper?”

  “Is that who I think it is?” called Haley’s strident voice. She came barreling out from behind the velvet curtains and rushed right up to Bill Glass. “Stop it,” she told him, smacking his outstretched hand like she was reprimanding a willful schoolchild.

  “Yow!” yelped Glass, pulling back his hand and laughing at the same time. “Aren’t you a little spitfire.”

  Hands on hips now, Haley peered at Bill Glass. “Get lost, Glass,” she told him. “It’s bad enough you were hired to photograph Orchid Lights. We don’t need you poking around here, too.”

  “Behind-the-scene shots,” he told her, though his explanation sounded lame.

  “Go bug somebody else,” Haley told him. “Go annoy the Orchid Society. Or the staff at the Heritage Society.” She fluttered her fingers, then turned her back on him to indicate the issue was closed.

  It hadn’t been that long ago that Bill Glass had tried to entice Haley with big plans to publish her recipes. But the publishing contract he’d delivered to her had been hope-lessly in his favor and Theodosia’s admonition to revise it had apparently fallen on deaf ears. So at the moment, Bill Glass was persona non gratis with Haley.

  Charlie suddenly appeared in the doorway. “Drayton,” she said. “Can you step outside with me for a minute?”

  “Who’s that?” asked Glass, raising his camera.

  “Leave her alone,” said Theodosia, shooing him away like he was an anno
ying, persistent hornet.

  “What?” Drayton asked Charlie. “You mean in back?” Between Charlie’s beckoning to him and Bill Glass stalking the tea room, Drayton seemed like he was caught off balance.

  “Outside,” repeated Charlie. “Just for a minute.”

  “Whatever for?” asked Drayton.

  Charlie’s shoulders sagged. “Drayton.” She sighed. “Indulge me, will you?”

  Bill Glass turned toward Theodosia as Drayton left the room. “You people are just as crazy as ever,” he chided.

  “Thanks. Thanks a lot,” she told him.

  Bill Glass followed her over to the counter. “I’m really just killing time until the event starts,” he told her.

  “No kidding,” said Theodosia, busying herself. She knew she’d need sugar bowls, silver tongs, stir sticks, and a couple of tea strainers for tonight. And what else? There had to be a million other things.

  “I’m not a bad guy,” Glass told her.

  “That remains to be seen.” Theodosia leaned down, grabbed a six-pack of votive light candles. She figured they’d look perfect flickering on the tables once it got dark. Or should she bring the candelabra? Yes, that was even better.

  “What do you hear about the fire at the Featherbed House?” Glass asked her.

  Theodosia straightened up and stared at Glass. “Just that it’s a tragedy for Angie as well as the historic district.” She gazed at him suspiciously. “Why? You fishing around for a front-page story for next week’s Shooting Star?”

  Glass shrugged. “Maybe. I already ran a short piece on the fire yesterday. But if you’ve got any new insight I’m all ears.”

  “Nothing besides the fact that poor Angie lost her husband and her livelihood.” No way was she going to tell Bill Glass about Fayne Hamilton. He could read about that in tomorrow’s Post and Courier with the rest of Charleston.

  “Yeah,” said Glass, fiddling with his camera. “Too bad about all that.”

  Theodosia grabbed a blue-and-white teapot and poured out a cup of black tea heavily scented with jasmine. She shoved it across the counter toward Glass, hoping a few sips might settle him down. “Compliments of the house,” she told him.