Dragonwell Dead atsm-8 Page 18

  Apprehension building, Theodosia waited off camera while Harlan Noble fussed with his orchids. He looked just as hostile as he always looked. And Theodosia couldn’t seem to shake the image of Harlan Noble, standing in a crowd of gawkers, watching the Featherbed House burn. Especially since it had come on the heels of Harlan trying to purchase Mark’s collection and being turned down by Angie.

  This is silly, Theodosia told herself. I’m acting like a frightened school kid. When what I really should do is go talk to him.

  Theodosia edged closer to the table. “Your orchids look lovely,” she told Harlan.

  He looked up at her as though he had no earthly idea Theodosia had been standing there. “You think so?” he asked. “I’m dreadfully nervous about these hot lights.” He glanced upward. “But the producer promised they’d only be on for ten minutes at most.”

  “Orchids don’t like heat?” asked Theodosia. “I always thought they were hothouse plants.”

  Harlan Noble gave a quick frown. “That’s what everyone thinks. But these are mostly native varieties. Used to a little more shade and a subtropical climate versus tropical.”

  “So most of these were collected locally?” asked Theodosia.

  “All of them,” replied Harlan. He moved a Spider orchid, replaced it with a Northern Green orchid.

  “Interesting,” said Theodosia. “I take it you have a few favorite haunts where you go to collect?”

  Harlan Noble straightened up, then seemed to really look at Theodosia for the first time. “I’m originally from a little town called Plum Branch,” he told her, his dark eyes boring into her. “Best collecting in the state.”

  “Aha,” said Theodosia, the hair on the back of her neck suddenly standing on end. “Up near Sumter National Forest.” She wasn’t about to tell Harlan she’d passed that way yesterday. Then again, he might already know that.

  “So you really know that area,” said Theodosia.

  “I know it very well,” responded Harlan Noble. “Very well, indeed.”

  Luckily, they didn’t have to wait much longer. Abby Davis, the show’s new host, strode across the studio. Attired in a slim-fitting pink suit, Abby had a cap of dark spiky hair and a no-nonsense look about her. Oohing and aahing over Harlan’s orchids, she greeted him first. Then she approached Theodosia, cards in hand. “You’re Theodosia,” she said. “I’m Abby Davis. Host of the show.”

  Theodosia smiled warmly at Abby. There was something familiar about this woman. Or maybe it was her name. Had she heard it before? Before today? “Your name sounds awfully familiar,” said Theodosia. “Perhaps we’ve met before?”

  Abby’s brown eyes carried a hint of merriment mingled with challenge. “You think so?”

  “Pardon me?” said Theodosia, slightly puzzled. Why, she wondered, is this woman coming on so strangely? She thought for a moment. Unless she’s . . . oh no, she can’t be. Please don’t let her be . . .

  “You’re . . .” began Theodosia.

  Abby Davis leaned forward, dark eyes glittering, her face pulled into a hard smile. “I’m Jory Davis’s cousin. And, yes, we have met before.”

  “Nice to see you again,” said Theodosia. Her response sounded lame, but she wasn’t exactly sure what she should say to the cousin of her ex-boyfriend. She filled in the conversation gap by adding, “I understand you’ve recently joined the station. Congratulations.”

  “Yes,” said Abby. “I just moved back from Tampa.”

  “Where you were also an on-air personality?” asked Theodosia, trying her best to keep the momentum going.

  “At the top-rated station,” purred Abby. “And you, I’m sure, are still doing your little tea shop thing.”

  “Not so little,” said Theodosia. No way was she going to stand there and let Abby pick at her. “The Indigo Tea Shop is thriving, the catering business is developing nicely, and I created a line of T-Bath products.” There, she thought, I may not be the CEO of a Fortune 500 company, but I am an entrepreneur who’s growing and nurturing a small business.

  “Good for you,” said Abby in a bored tone. She spun on her heels, gesturing for Constance to join them. “Let’s lay this down,” said Abby. “I don’t have all day.”

  Then they were all crowded around a small table overflowing with pots of orchids. Abby stood in the middle with Theodosia on one side, Harlan on the other. The lights burned bright and hot as Abby chatted breezily, dimpled prettily for the camera, and asked the exact right questions so Harlan could talk about the enticing orchids on display at tonight’s Orchid Lights show and Theodosia could make her pitch that tickets were still available.

  The cameras moved in close to pan the orchids several times, and then it was over. The klieg lights dimmed, the cameras with their giant eyes rolled back on soundless, rubber wheels, and a production assistant rushed in to unclip Theodosia’s microphone.

  Abby stood a few steps away, reviewing her cards for the next segment as a woman from the makeup department twirled a fat brush in a compact and dabbed powder across Abby’s cheeks. All the while Abby completely ignored everything that was going on around her. The makeup lady. Harlan packing up his orchids. And Theodosia.

  “Miss Davis,” Theodosia said, mustering a strong, no-nonsense tone. It was the same tone she’d used years ago when she’d had to rein in impossibly pushy clients.

  Abby Davis looked up. Surprise widened her eyes.

  “If this segment hadn’t been a promotional pitch for the Heritage Society,” said Theodosia, “I want you to know I would have walked out. You’ve been nothing but rude to me.”

  “You broke Jory’s heart,” spat out Abby.

  “Jory moved to New York!” said Theodosia, surprised by the emotion that resonated in her own voice.

  “He asked you to go along,” said Abby.

  “And leave everything behind, yes,” replied Theodosia. “Family, friends, and my business. It was a hard decision to make and sometimes I still wonder if it was the right one.” And with that, Theodosia turned and walked off the set.

  22

  “Theodosia!” Delaine’s shrill voice greeted her. “I see you finally showed up.”

  Theodosia stared across racks of gossamer silk tops, cropped pants, cotton sweaters, and long skirts. “I told you I had to do an appearance at Channel Eight this morning.”

  “And how did it go?” asked Delaine, hastening toward her on four-inch stilettos, a saffron scarf trailing behind her.

  “Fine,” said Theodosia. “Great.” Well, not great. Pretty darn terrible if you want to know the truth. But you probably don’t.

  “Wonderful!” exclaimed Delaine, giving Theodosia a succession of air kisses and enveloping her in a soft cloud of lilac perfume. “Things have been absolutely frantic here. In the last couple days we’ve literally blown through our entire inventory of embroidered T-shirts and our Sea Island cotton sweaters are simply flying off the shelves.”

  “So business is good,” said Theodosia. “You should be delirious.” She picked up a silver sandal from a display. It was feather light with a wedge heel of smooth cork.

  “All I am is exhausted,” said Delaine, clasping a hand to her chest. “Between ordering inventory, handling sales, and making plans for a buying trip, I just can’t seem to keep up.”

  “What’s the problem?” asked Theodosia. Usually Delaine thrived on chaos.

  Janine, Delaine’s longtime assistant suddenly appeared. “She was out with Bobby Wayne again last night, that’s the problem.” Janine’s face, perpetually red from juggling a gazillion things while trailing around after Delaine, carried a knowing look.

  “You were?” Theodosia said with a surprised look on her face. “Another date?” It would appear the two of them were getting very close indeed.

  “Just one of our romantic little dinners,” confided Delaine. “We drove over to Summerville. There’s a lovely little bistro there called the Bluebird Grill, located just on the edge of Old Town. The herb-crusted sea scallops are to die
for.”

  “That’s your second date this week,” remarked Theodosia.

  “Third,” corrected Delaine. She whirled about, suddenly shouted, “Janine,” at the top of her lungs.

  Janine popped her head up from behind a display of long evening gowns.

  “The dress,” Delaine hissed. “Bring out Theodosia’s dress.”

  “It’s not my dress yet,” said Theodosia. She browsed through a rack of silk tops, found two or three that were really adorable.

  “Ta-da!” said Delaine, as a green froth of ruffles and frills suddenly materialized.

  For some reason, the dress reminded Theodosia of the wall of green in her old nemesis, the hedge maze. “Good heavens,” she exclaimed. “That really is apple green.”

  “Like it?” asked Delaine. Her head nodded in the affirmative, willing Theodosia to say yes.

  “And it certainly is . . . ruffled,” said Theodosia, neatly dodging the question.

  “Ruffles connote romance,” said Delaine, holding the dress up against Theodosia. “And, lord knows, you could certainly use a little romance in your life.”

  “Does she like it?” Janine called from the back counter.

  “She adores it!” yelled back Delaine.

  “Actually,” said Theodosia, turning to finger one of the fluttery silk tops that had caught her eye. “Something like this would probably be more practical.”

  Delaine’s nostrils flared. “Might be apropos for a garden party,” she sniffed. “But it certainly won’t make a strong statement like this dress.”

  “No, it won’t,” admitted Theodosia. “But to tell you the truth, with all I have to do tonight, pouring tea, handing out tea sandwiches, helping Drayton serve his ice angels, this dress might not really get showcased properly.”

  Delaine paused, trying to mentally assess just how serious Theodosia was.

  “This dress is beautiful,” continued Theodosia, “but I worry about the ruffles on the sleeves. I’d hate to drag them through the lobster salad and lemon gelato.

  “That would be a disaster,” allowed Delaine.

  “I’d be heartsick if it was ruined with just one wearing,” said Theodosia.

  Reluctantly, Delaine pulled the dress back toward her. “You make a good point,” she said slowly. “Hmm. The fluttery tops, huh? You think one of those would work?”

  “I think so,” said Theodosia. “And you do have some really cute ones.” She sorted through the rack. “In your expert opinion which one do you think might work best? Color-wise, I mean.”

  Delaine debated for a couple seconds, then reached forward and snatched up two of the tops. “I like the copper-colored one and the sea-green one. But I’d wear oodles of turquoise beads with the copper, and gold jewelry with the green. Good statement gold.”

  “Not silver?” asked Theodosia.

  “No,” said Delaine. “Gold is dressier and will give it more of an edge.”

  “So let’s try them on,” said Theodosia.

  “Okaaay,” said Delaine, still finding it difficult to give up on the green dress. “I suppose.”

  “Oh, now that’s awfully cute,” said Janine when Theodosia emerged from the fitting room a few minutes later.

  “Not bad,” said Delaine. “I do like that copper color against her hair.”

  “I love it,” said Theodosia, posing in front of the three-way mirror. “Do you think I should try the green top, too?”

  Delaine studied her carefully, then shook her head. “No, that top’s really perfect. Do you have a stash of turquoise beads to put with it?”

  “Maybe one strand.”

  “Janine!” screamed Delaine at full volume. “Turquoise beads!”

  Janine came panting up, carrying multiple strands of turquoise beads.

  Delaine stepped back while Janine proceeded to decorate Theodosia like a Christmas tree.

  “Enough?” asked Janine.

  “One more strand,” declared Delaine. “Now take a look, Theo. Tell me what you think.”

  Theodosia turned back toward the mirror to study her image and decided she was delighted with the look Delaine had grudgingly helped orchestrate. The silk top and beads managed to convey dressy, comfortable, and bohemian chic all at the same time.

  But Delaine wasn’t quite finished. “Earrings,” she declared. “Those coin-shaped pearl earrings we got in last week.”

  The pearl earrings were the finishing touch. Just a final dash of shimmer to polish the look.

  “And you’re to wear this with flowing cream slacks,” admonished Delaine. “And cream or bronze sandals. Remember, the higher the heel the better. Let’s get you up there with the really tall girls.”

  “Will do,” promised Theodosia, delighted to have escaped the snares of the frilly green dress.

  “Look who’s here!” called out an exuberant voice. “Two of my favorite female entrepreneurs!”

  Both Theodosia and Delaine turned toward the front of the shop where Leah Shalimar was speeding toward them. Wearing one of her trademark elegant suits, she clutched a large, leather portfolio. A giant grin animated Leah’s face.

  “Leah!” shrilled Delaine. “Lovely to see you!” She scampered to meet her and they exchanged air kisses, missing each other by a mile.

  “Hi, Leah,” called Theodosia, still posing in front of the three-way mirror.

  “Aren’t you the adorable one,” said Leah, favoring Theodosia with a wide smile. “New outfit? Must mean you have a hot date.”

  “No, no,” Delaine explained hastily. “That’s her working outfit. Theo’s serving tea and sandwiches at Orchid Lights tonight. Which I hope you’ve made plans to attend.”

  “Haven’t even thought about it,” said Leah. “I’ve been busy, busy, busy, and never quite got around to buying a ticket.”

  “There are still tickets left,” said Theodosia. “If you’re interested.”

  “It’s a benefit for the Heritage Society?” Leah asked politely. “What’s the program exactly?”

  “An orchid show, refreshments on the patio, and a silent auction,” piped up Delaine. “With most of the proceeds benefiting the Heritage Society.”

  “That’s right,” said Leah. “Drayton did mention he was planning to exhibit some orchids. He’s still doing that?”

  “As far as I know,” said Theodosia.

  “Maybe I’ll show up after all,” said Leah. She glanced pointedly at Delaine. “Is now good for you? There’s a small amount of paperwork you need to fill out, so maybe we should go in your office. It’s probably the easiest.”

  “Good idea,” said Delaine. Her head spun around. “Janine? Can you finish up here with Theodosia?”

  “Of course,” said Janine, who always seemed to be juggling six things at once.

  “I take it you’re going to be doing some investing,” Theodosia said to Delaine.

  “Thanks to Leah’s good advice,” said Delaine. She giggled. “And a few choice words from Bobby Wayne.”

  “He’s a charmer,” said Leah. “And so darned smart.”

  “This is the FOREX product you mentioned to me?” Theodosia asked as Leah unzipped her portfolio and leafed through a sheaf of papers.

  Leah nodded happily. “The one administered by Sun Commonwealth Trust,” she said.

  “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.