Page 2 of Murder in the Tea Leaves

Theodosia slipped around the table and walked toward the director, aware that more than a few eyes were following her. She stepped over a tangle of wires and black cables that connected lights, cameras, and sound equipment to the main power source.

“So you’re a tea expert?” Morro asked.

Theodosia lifted a shoulder. “Of sorts.”

“Because you own a tea shop.”

“The Indigo Tea Shop over on Church Street.”

The director seemed to relax. “Truth be told, I’ve been known to imbibe a cup or two of tea myself. You might say Earl Grey was my gateway drug.”

“Because of the bergamot,” Theodosia said.

Josh Morro reached out, gently grabbed Theodosia’s arm, and pulled her toward him. “Right.”

“Hard to resist that rich flavor.”

Morro’s face lit up as if he’d been suddenly struck by a wonderful idea. “Since you seem to know what you’re doing, we’ll have you pour the tea and read the tea leaves!”

“What!” screeched the fortune teller, who suddenly saw her big scene going up in smoke.

“Oh no,” Theodosia said, breaking away from him and holding up her hands. “I’m no expert when it comes to tasseography.”

“You’re referring to…”

“Reading tea leaves.”

Morro gazed at her and smiled. “Oh yes, I think you’re perfect. I definitely want you to read the tea leaves and be in the scene.”

“I can’t do that,” Theodosia said.

Morro’s brows puckered. “What’s the problem?”

“I’m not an actress,” Theodosia said. She glanced around quickly, looking for confirmation. Wasn’t it glaringly apparent that she was only here to oversee the craft services table? Wasn’t it? Come on, somebody please pitch in and give her some backup.

But Josh Morro had already made up his mind. He looked over to where Andrea Blair, the star of the movie, was now lounging in a folding chair as she scrolled through her phone messages. Her script lay on the floor next to her, unopened. “You’re no actress?” Morro said. “Neither is she.” Then he lifted a hand, snapped his fingers, and called out, “Sondra, we’re going to need hair, makeup, and wardrobe for…what’s your name?”

“Theodosia. Theodosia Browning. But I really can’t…”

“Do it,” Drayton urged from across the room. “It’ll be fun.”

“No, it won’t,” Theodosia said, shaking her head. “I’m not an actress, I don’t even look like an actress.”

“Actually, you do,” Morro said. “You’re young and pretty enough to look good in a close-up, but you also possess a seriousness and quiet maturity that will come across on-screen. A believability the audience can connect with.” He appraised her from head to toe. “Good figure, ice-chip blue eyes that go nicely with that English rose complexion only a few women are naturally gifted with, and…well, I do love your tangle of auburn hair.” He hesitated. “Though we’ll have to tone it down some to fit under the turban.”

Theodosia shook her head. “No,” she said again. But even as her protest continued, Sondra and another production assistant rushed in, grabbed her, and pulled her down the hallway into a makeshift makeup and dressing room.

“This isn’t going to work,” Theodosia argued as they plunked her down in a pink plastic swivel chair and bombarded her with bright lights. The air was filled with the sweet scent of hair spray, styling gel, and a touch of Chanel No. 5.

“Of course it will work, honey,” Brittany, the head makeup artist, told Theodosia. “All we need to do is line your eyes, pat on some makeup, and tone down that hair of yours.” She ran a brush through Theodosia’s locks and said to her assistant, “Tina, have you ever seen so much hair?”

Shaking her head, Tina snapped her gum and said, “Only on wigs.”

“Really,” Theodosia said, gripping the arms of her chair. “I can’t go through with this.”

“Honey, you gotta trust us,” Brittany said. She was a bleached blond with over-plucked brows and a spray tan. A fake bake as Theodosia and her friends would say. “We’re gonna do a first-class buff and puff that’ll glam you up so good you’ll look like a genuine Hollywood star.”

“Good enough for a shot on TMZ,” Tina echoed as she draped a plastic cape around Theodosia’s shoulders.

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