Dragonwell Dead

As Theodosia shook her hand, she studied the young woman. Fayne Hamilton was mid-twenties, with long brown hair, a sprinkle of freckles across her nose, and serious brown eyes. But what struck Theodosia the most was Fayne Hamilton’s manner. She seemed prim and proper almost to the point of being stiff. Of course, Theodosia reasoned, her boss had just died and Fayne was undoubtedly upset, was probably still in shock.

“Are you okay?” asked Theodosia. It was not the opening she’d planned for. Her sudden concern for this young woman just sort of popped out unexpectedly.

Fayne put a hand to her chest and blinked rapidly. “Mark . . . Mr. Congdon . . . his death caught us all completely off guard. One minute we were working together and then . . .”

“Unexpected tragedies such as this,” said Theodosia, “are hard on everyone. Family, friends, and certainly coworkers.”

“We all thought the absolute world of Mark,” said Fayne as she led Theodosia down a long hallway. “When he joined Loveday and Luxor he was a breath of fresh air.”

“Had you worked with Mark for long?” asked Theodosia.

Fayne stopped in front of a closed wooden door. A gleaming brass name plate off to one side read Mark Congdon.

“I was his assistant the whole time he was here,” said Fayne. “Which was, what? Almost six months, I guess.”

“He hadn’t worked here all that long,” mused Theodosia, as Fayne pushed open the door.

“No,” said Fayne, stepping inside Mark’s office. “But he was a terrific guy. And a really smart broker, too. All his clients loved him. And trusted him.”

“I suppose we should start with . . .” began Theodosia as she followed Fayne into Mark’s office. She paused mid-sentence and gazed, startled, around Mark’s office. Empty bookshelves and a cleaned-out credenza met her eyes. Two brown cardboard boxes sat atop a bare expanse of wooden desk. “Everything’s packed already,” said Theodosia, sounding both surprised and a little flustered. This was not what she’d expected at all.

Fayne nodded sadly. “Surprised me, too. But I was told that Martha was asked to sort through everything last night. So Mark’s personal things would be all ready to go.”

“Really,” said Theodosia. She’d been under the distinct impression that it would be her task to go through Mark’s desk. To sift through his personal items. Theodosia put a hand on one of the cardboard boxes. “Not too much here.”

“I suppose most of what was in here really belonged to the firm,” said Fayne. “Client records, company documents, things like that. So Martha removed all that stuff and packed up Mark’s personal items.” She hesitated. “Which I thought was going to be my job.”

“Who exactly is this Martha?” asked Theodosia.

“She’s Leah Shalimar’s private secretary,” responded Fayne. “Ms. Shalimar is taking over all Mark’s accounts. She’s a senior vice president just like he was.”

“I see,” said Theodosia, realizing what Fayne said probably made sense. Except it all felt just a little bit rushed.

“Would you like to speak with Ms. Shalimar?” asked Fayne, sensing Theodosia’s hesitation. “I know she’s in.”

“Sure,” said Theodosia. “I’d like that very much.”

Fayne escorted Theodosia farther down the corridor and rapped gently on a closed door. Then she pushed it open and led her into an expansive corner office with dark red walls and black Chinese-style furniture. Leah Shalimar was on the phone, but smiled brightly and waved them in. Then she held up an index finger to indicate she’d be with them in just one minute.

While Leah Shalimar purred to her client, or whoever it was she was talking to, Theodosia studied her. Leah Shalimar was superskinny in her plum-colored suit, with a sweep of dark hair, expressive eyebrows over darting eyes, and a hyperactive manner. Though she was on the phone, Leah Shalimar was in constant motion. She paced back and forth behind her desk, drummed her lacquered nails on her file cabinet, flipped through her Rolodex, all the while grabbing sips from an oversized coffee mug. Leah reminded Theodosia of a shark, the one ocean creature that must keep moving in order to stay alive.

Theodosia decided that Leah Shalimar had to ingest more than a few cups of espresso a day to generate that much activity. In fact, with the nervous energy she was putting off, South Carolina Electric & Gas could probably harness Leah and power half of Charleston.

“Hell-ooo,” said Leah Shalimar once she was off the phone. She dashed around her desk, grasped both of Theodosia’s hands, and flashed a dazzling smile. “So nice to finally meet you. Bobby Wayne has told me so much about your tea shop. And . . .” Now she favored Fayne with a quick smile, too. “. . . how supportive you’ve been to Mark’s poor wife.”

“Angie and I have been friends for a long time,” murmured Theodosia.

Leah Shalimar took a step backward. “So, are the police any closer to discovering what really happened to Mark?”

“I’m not exactly privy to that sort of information,” said Theodosia, wondering if Leah Shalimar actually knew something or if she was just fishing around.

“The police are investigating?” asked Fayne, looking worried. “I thought Mark died of a heart attack.”

“Don’t believe everything you hear,” said Leah, her gaze drilling into Theodosia.

“You mean something happened to Mark?” asked Fayne. “Like foul play?” She seemed suddenly upset and on the verge of tears.

“That’s for the authorities to determine,” said Leah. She turned an unsympathetic eye on Fayne. “Why don’t you run and tell Bobby Wayne that Miss Browning is here. I’m absolutely positive he’ll want to pop in and say how- do.”

Fayne hesitated a moment and cast a glance at Theodosia. “If you need any help going through those boxes . . .” she said.

“Thank you,” said Theodosia, watching as Fayne turned reluctantly and left the office.

Leah, wasting no time, hunched her shoulders forward and gestured for Theodosia to take a chair. “Come. Sit down,” Leah urged. She was obviously a high-energy woman used to having her way. Her stiletto heels sounded like rifle reports as she scooted back around her desk and plopped down in her chair, smiling at Theodosia across her ocean-sized desk.

“Lovely to finally meet you,” said Leah. “I understand you were a good friend of Mark’s. In fact, he mentioned your name to me several times.”

“Mark was a terrific person,” said Theodosia. “All of us at the Indigo Tea Shop will miss him very much.”

Leah put a hand to her chest. “As will we. His passing is a terrible blow.” She closed her eyes for a moment, as if the memory of Mark Congdon was almost too much to bear.

Then her eyes popped open and she leaned forward across her desk. “You know,” said Leah. “I’ve heard some amazing things about your little enterprise. It’s reputed to be terribly cozy and charming. With marvelous food.” Leah pronounced the word mahvelous, drawing out the “a” like an old silver screen actress might.

“We’ve gotten our fair share of good press,” said Theodosia, wondering what the whole story was behind this slightly manic woman. “And we pride ourselves on having satisfied customers.”

“Your stopping by has just sparked the most brilliant idea,” announced Leah, dropping her voice in a conspiratorial manner. “I’m supposed to host a group of women for lunch tomorrow. Business women. Potential investors, actually. Wouldn’t it be a kick if we came to your tea shop?”

“Tomorrow?” asked Theodosia. Wow, this woman works fast. Maybe that’s why she’s a hotshot commodity broker.

“Yes,” said Leah, growing more and more enchanted with her idea. “I was going to take my group to Le Pouvre, but your place would be far more suitable. From what I hear it’s extremely civilized.” Leah grabbed her day-date book and scanned it eagerly. “Shall we say one o’clock?”

“Fine,” said Theodosia, knowing she’d have to give a heads-up to Drayton and Haley. “We’d love to have you. How many guests?”

“Five in all,” said Leah, holding up a hand and splaying out her fingers. “Oh, and make sure everything is