Wonderful smells emanated from the kitchen, a sure sign that Haley had regained her balance and slipped back into her usual routine. “It’s me,” called Theodosia as she let herself into her office and pulled the back door closed behind her.
Haley popped her head around the doorway like a little gopher. “Successful meeting?” Her face glowed from the heat of the kitchen, and her mood seemed considerably improved. Theodosia thought she looked 200 percent better than she had a few hours ago.
“I’d say so.”
Now Drayton appeared. “You saw Timothy,” he said eagerly.
“Yes.”
“Were you able to reason with him?” he asked.
Still vivid in Theodosia’s mind was the sight of Timothy Neville in the throes of a hissy fit. “Not exactly,” she replied.
“So you didn’t get Bethany’s job back?” asked Haley.
“No,” said Theodosia. “Not yet.”
Haley’s smile sagged.
“I don’t understand,” said Drayton. “You said it was a success.”
“It was, in a way. Timothy was kind enough to reveal his true character.”
Drayton and Haley stared at each other. They were uncertain as to what exactly Theodosia meant by this. And Theodosia, seeing their disappointment, had no intention of giving them a blow-by-blow description of Timothy Neville’s incredibly obnoxious behavior.
“Drayton, Haley,” said Theodosia. “I need to make a phone call. Trust me; this isn’t over. In fact, we’ve only just scratched the surface.”
“Now, what do you suppose she meant by all that?” Haley asked Drayton as they went out into the tea room, shaking their heads.
Flipping through her hefty Rolodex, Theodosia found the number she wanted. Step one, she thought to herself. Sure hope he’s in.
“Leyland Hartwell, please. Tell him it’s Theodosia Browning.”
As Theodosia waited for Leyland Hartwell to come on the line, her eyes searched out the pale mauve walls of her little office. Along with framed tea labels and opera programs, Theodosia had hung dozens of family photos. Her eyes fell on one now. A black-and-white photo of her dad on his sailboat. Looking suntanned, windblown, relaxed. He’d been a member of the Charleston Yacht Club and had once sailed with a crew of three others in the 771-mile Charleston-to-Bermuda Race. He had been an expert sailor, and she had loved sailing with him. Handling the tiller, throwing out the spinnaker, thrilling to the exhilarating rush of sea foam when they heeled over in the wind.
“Theodosia!” Leyland Hartwell’s voice boomed in her ear. “What a pleasant surprise. Do you still have that Heinz fifty-seven dog?”
“The Dalbrador,” she said.
“That’s the one. Ha, ha. Very clever. What can I do for you, my dear?”
“I’m after some information, Leyland. Your firm still handles a considerable amount of real estate business, am I correct?”
“Yes, indeed. Mortgages, title examinations, deeds, foreclosures and cancellations, zoning, leases. You name it, we’ve got our fingers in the thick of things.”
“I’m trying to gather information on a real estate developer by the name of Hughes Barron. Do you know him?”
“Heard of him,” said Leyland Hartwell. There was a pause. “We’re talking about the fellow who just died, right?”
“Right,” said Theodosia. And please don’t ask too much more, she silently prayed.
“Lots of rumors flying on that one,” said Leyland Hartwell. “I was at Coosaw Creek yesterday afternoon playing a round with Tommy Beaumont. He told me Barron died of a heart attack. Then later on a fellow at the bar said he heard a rumor that Barron had been poisoned. Arsenic or something like it.”
“I really wanted to know about his business dealings,” said Theodosia. Theodosia heard a rustle of paper, and then Leyland Hartwell spoke to her again.
“Business deals. Gotcha. Is this time-sensitive?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“No problem. I’ll put one of my people on it and light a fire. We’ll find out what we can. Say, do you still sell that lemon mint tea with the real lemon verbena?”
“We certainly do.”
“Mrs. Hartwell surely does love that stuff on ice. Awfully refreshing.”
Theodosia smiled. Leyland Hartwell was devoted to his wife and always referred to her as Mrs. Hartwell. “Good, I’ll send some over for her.”
“Aren’t you a love. One of my fellows will be back to you soon. Hopefully first thing tomorrow.”