Dragonwell Dead

Bobby Wayne chewed at his lip thoughtfully. He knew darn well what Theodosia was asking. “No, probably not,” he finally responded.

Delaine was waving at Theodosia to come join her again. So Theodosia grabbed a fresh pot of tea and headed back to Delaine’s table.

“Drayton was just telling me about your new summer tea blend,” she said. That was the thing about Delaine. She had the ability to jump from nasty gossip to tea shop news in a split second.

“You’re privy to one of his big secrets then,” said Theodosia. “Because Dayton hasn’t even told me about it yet.”

Drayton focused a solemn gaze on Theodosia. “It’s a rather novel house blend I want to call Starry Night. I’m blending a mixture of Chinese and Indian black tea and flavoring it with star anise and wild cherry bark.”

“To die for,” said Delaine.

“Good heavens, let’s hope not,” replied Drayton as he slid his chair back, jumped up, and headed for the counter.

Delaine watched Theodosia refill her teacup, then turned a coy smile on her. “I have something for you,” she said.

“If it’s another tidbit of gossip, I don’t think I want to hear it,” said Theodosia. She was still disturbed that Delaine seemed to derive subtle pleasure from talking about Angie Congdon’s misfortune.

“No, silly,” said Delaine. “It’s the perfect dress for you. For tomorrow night.”

“I have a dress,” said Theodosia. She was planning to wear a simple cream-colored sheath and maybe add a wrap if the evening turned chilly.

“This is better,” Delaine said knowingly. “Fine Chinese silk dyed to a wonderful shade of apple green. Enormously complimentary, of course, to your auburn hair. And the dress itself is very romantic and ruffled.” Delaine took a sip of tea and pursed her lips. “Somewhere between Laura Ashley and Monique Lhuillier.”

“I’m not sure I’m the romantic, ruffled type,” commented Theodosia. In fact, her own personal style seemed to have evolved into simplicity and comfort. Colorful, slinky silk T-shirts, tailored capri slacks, lower-heeled shoes that let her fly about the tea room relatively unencumbered. Kind of a modern-day Audrey Hepburn. With the addition of exceptional amounts of auburn hair, of course.

“The romantic look was made for you,” pressed Delaine. “Case in point, you own an adorable little tea shop that people flock to. And you’re a southern hostess with a warm, caring sensibility. Ergo, this dress will be perfect!”

Theodosia still wasn’t convinced. “Ruffles,” she said. “I’m just not feeling the ruffle thing.”

“Nonsense,” said Delaine. “The dress is utterly divine.”

“You promise I won’t look like something out of What Ever Happened to Baby Jane?”

Delaine’s brows knit together as she peered at Theodosia. “We’re talking romantic, Theo, not spooky Southern Gothic.” She drummed her perfectly manicured fingertips on the table-top. “Tell you what, why don’t you come over this afternoon and try it on. I’ve got my assistant, Janine, holding it for you in the back room.”

“No way can I make it today,” Theodosia told her. In fact, I’d rather not come at all.

“Tomorrow then,” said Delaine. “Come tomorrow morning.”

“I promised Timothy I’d do that on-air segment at Channel Eight,” said Theodosia. “Kind of a final push for Orchid Lights.”

“Then drop by afterward,” insisted Delaine. “Of course,” she said, leaning sideways and casting a critical eye toward Theodosia’s khaki slacks and comfortable loafers as though they were fashion roadkill, “we’ll have to find you some decent shoes as well. I’m thinking perhaps a pair of four-inch stilettos that show a little toe cleavage.”

“How about a comfortable pair of two-inch mules?” asked Theodosia. “And forget trying to make my toes look sexy. I’ll probably be on my feet all evening. Helping Drayton set up, then serving tea at the event . . .”

“You’re no fun at all,” complained Delaine. “You never want to go all-out glitz or glam. If I had to depend on you for a customer, Cotton Duck would be plum out of business!”

“I’ll be there.” Theodosia sighed. “Tomorrow.”

“Try to get there by eleven, dear, will you?” said Delaine with a self-satisfied smile. “I’ve got that marvelous woman, Leah Shalimar, coming in to talk about investing.”

20

“What did you do to it?” asked Parker Scully as he ran a hand over the giant dents in the hull of his canoe. “Beat it with a baseball bat? Take it over a fifty-foot waterfall?”

“No, no, nothing that disastrous,” Theodosia assured him even as she felt a tiny twinge of guilt bubble up inside her.

“Well, it’s pretty banged up.”

“I know,” said Theodosia. “And I feel just awful about all the wear and tear. Drayton and I hit a few patches of white-water and, of course, there were rocks, too. I guess my navi-gating skills weren’t as sharp as I thought they were. So, again, I apologize. I’ll be happy to replace the canoe or pay to have the dents pounded out. Whatever you’d prefer.”

“No no,” said Parker, still looking supremely puzzled. “I’m not upset about the canoe. Heck, I haven’t used the darn thing in years. I’m just kind of stunned that one little woman and a somewhat older gentleman could put it through such a tough workout.”

“Have you ever canoed the rivers up near Hickory Knob?” asked Theodosia.

Parker Scully shook his head. “No,” he said, almost cautiously.

“They’re tricky. One could almost say treacherous.”

“Uh-huh,” said Parker. He wanted to believe her, but wasn’t quite buying it.

“I understand kayakers train there,” said Theodosia. “For serious competitions.”

“Serious competitions,” repeated Parker. His eyes narrowed as he studied her carefully. “What is it you’re not telling me?”

“Nothing,” said Theodosia, hoping she looked a lot more innocent than she felt.

“Something happened,” said Parker Scully. “Something you don’t want me to know about.”

Theodosia flapped a hand helplessly. They were standing in Parker Scully’s back alley, just outside his garage. She was anxious to help unload his canoe and be on her way. If Parker kept up this line of questioning, she’d for sure break down and tell him exactly what happened. That someone had taken a shot at her and Drayton. That they’d headed down the wrong fork and gone headlong over a waterfall. Then Parker would want to call in the police about the shooter and her own investigation might be . . . well, not ruined, but possibly derailed. Just when everything was at its most twisted and tangled, and she was struggling to unravel it.

Besides, Theodosia decided, if Parker knew she was hip deep in this murder and arson investigation, he might worry about her safety and ask her to quietly extricate herself. And that was the last thing Theodosia wanted to do right now.

Pop. Theodosia loosened a bungee cord and let it snap against the back window of her Jeep.

“Careful,” said Parker. “Those things ricochet like crazy.” He moved in to help. “Here, let me . . . I’ll lift it down.”

Theodosia retreated to a safe distance, watching him unload the canoe, hoping he was distracted enough to drop his line of questioning.

She followed Parker into his garage as he carried the canoe, stooping to go through the doorway. “Watch out!” she told him as he hefted it up onto two metal struts that stuck out from the wall. “Be careful of your fishing stuff.”

Parker slid the canoe onto the rack and peered at Theodosia in the dim light of the garage. “You want to