Dragonwell Dead

“And they’re located where again?” asked Theodosia.

“The Bahamas,” said Leah.

“Anything else you need, Theo, Janine will help you,” called Delaine as she and Leah disappeared into her office and shut the door behind them.

Theodosia sat in her Jeep outside Cotton Duck, thinking about Leah Shalimar. All things considered, she had actually grown to like Leah, she really had. Leah seemed smart and convivial and fairly sharp. And she’d worked hard to make it in a sector that was traditionally dominated by men.

Still . . . Mark Congdon’s death had allowed Leah to leapfrog to the top of the heap. Had put Leah square in charge of Loveday and Luxor’s new FOREX division.

So the question remained . . . had Leah somehow engineered this move? Theodosia let that question wash over her once again.

Could Leah have been supremely jealous of Mark Congdon? Could Leah have caused his death?

If she had, who would know? Or even suspect? Bobby Wayne didn’t seem to have any suspicions. He was caring and solicitous toward Angie and still seemed to be a booster for Leah. Certainly trusted her to head his department, even if she hadn’t been his first choice.

So that doesn’t go anywhere, thought Theodosia.

Okay, then what does?

Theodosia reached down, stuck her key in the ignition.

What about someone at that company in the Bahamas? Would they know anything? Would they have had dealings with Mark Congdon?

She figured they had to. After all, she’d found a ticket to Nassau stuck among Mark’s things.

Would they know anything? Anything at all? Did they even know that Mark was dead?

Theodosia slowly removed the key from the ignition.

She had no idea if she could call outside the continental U.S. using her cell phone, had never attempted to do so before. But you never really knew about something until you gave it the old one-two. After slight deliberation, Theodosia pulled her cell phone from her handbag and leafed through her phone directory. Did she still have Tidwell’s cell phone number? Yes, there it was, penciled in under the Ts.

Theodosia’s index finger tapped the top of her phone for a moment. Then, she finally made up her mind and punched in the digits.

Tidwell’s cell phone rang eight times before a prerecorded, tinny-sounding Tidwell voice erupted in her ear.

As you can no doubt ascertain, I’m currently unavailable to respond to your call. Since this probably won’t stop you from bothering me, kindly leave your message when you hear the mechanical beep.

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