Agony of the Leaves: Tea Shop Mystery #13 (9 page)

“Thank you,” said Theodosia.

Legend holds that
General Sherman, after his brutal and infamous “March to the Sea,” finally relented when he reached Savannah. He gathered his wits about him, called a halt to the senseless burning and pillaging, and decreed that the city of Savannah was far too beautiful, the women amazingly gracious, and the parties far too elegant for him to wreak any more havoc. Savannah, it seemed, was the perfect city in which to enjoy a little R&R.

Thus, street after street of antebellum mansions, Federal period townhouses, and entire districts of Victorian homes remained historically intact and too gorgeous for words.

Theodosia drove down St. Julian Street, past Mulberry Books, the French Bouquet Boutique, and the Blue Moon Tea Shop. If this were another day, a leisure day, she’d park her car and wander through City Market, on the lookout for local art, gourmet goodies, or some wonderfulhand-thrown clay teapot.

But she was a woman on a mission and she’d just spotted her destination. Or so she hoped.

Theodosia was pleasantly surprised to find that Violet’s was billed as a garden café. Better still, an outdoor café filled with trellises and arbors, abundant pots of bougainvillea and magnolias, and smaller pots of violets. And since the café was open for business, she figured she had a good chance of catching the elusive Mr. Manship.

Strolling into Violet’s, Theodosia was enticed by the aroma of spices, citrus, fresh coffee beans, and flowers.

The hostess, a young woman in a tight blue T-shirt and long, diaphanous skirt, greeted her. “Table for one?”

“Actually,” said Theodosia, “I’m here to see Lyle Manship. Is he in?”

“Just arrived ten minutes ago,” said the hostess. “Did you have an appointment?”

“I’m sort of popping in,” Theodosia told the hostess. She gave a quick smile, trying her best to project the air of an old friend dropping in for a quick visit, a fun surprise.

Obviously her ruse worked, because she was dutifully led back to Lyle Manship’s office, where the hostess pushed the door open and said, as a hasty introduction, “Someone here to see you.”

Manship glanced up from behind an acre of mahogany desk. He wasforty-something, fairly good-looking, with olive skin and lots of white teeth. Two framed photos on his desk showed a prettydark-haired wife posing with two sons, each with heroic sets of teeth.

“How can I help you?” Manship asked, a quizzical look on his face.

“I’m a friend of Parker Scully,” Theodosia told him.

“Ah…” Manship was immediately on his feet, a look of sympathy on his face and his arm outstretched to shake her hand. “I just heard the news. What a tragedy. And such terrible circumstances.” An overindulgence of Hugo Boss cologne wafted about him.

“I understand the two of you were business partners,” said Theodosia, trying hard not to sneeze.

“And your interest is… ?” Manship was pleasant but guarded.

“Just following up on some business for his firm,” said Theodosia. Ouch. There was another little white lie. And
they were starting to add up. Good thing it was a brilliantly sunny day and no chance for a bolt of lightning to come crashing down from the sky and incinerate her.

“I see,” said Manship. “Please sit down.” Theodosia made herself comfortable in an upholstered armchair while Manship eased himself back into his desk chair.

“The fact of the matter is,” said Manship, picking up a black Montblanc pen and lining it up against his iPhone, “we
weren’t
business partners. Parker and I talked about a couple of deals, but in the end nothing came of it.”

“You were going to open a restaurant together,” said Theodosia.

“That’s correct.” Manship stared at her for a moment, then leaned sideways and pulled open a desk drawer. He selected a file, placed it carefully on his desk, then flipped it open so it faced toward her. “Azalea,” he told her. “That was our working title. With a menu aimed at gourmet Southern food.” He grinned, thinking about it. “Think Old South décor but with a contemporary spin on Southern cuisine. We even had an old warehouse space picked out and were planning to decorate with blowups of antique Mathew Brady photos.”

“Neat,” said Theodosia.

“With luxurious brocade chairs set around old wooden plantation tables,” Manship continued. “And the menu…Parker had amazing ideas for entrées such as blackened catfish with caviar, crab tacos with ponzu sauce, and short ribs with grits and jicama.”

“This is a very cool idea,” said Theodosia, shuffling through the pages, picking up on his enthusiasm.

“Isn’t it?” said Manship. “And there are lots more plans, specifics that Parker had worked out. It’s just too bad we couldn’t hammer out a deal.”

Theodosia decided to be bold. “Why couldn’t you?”

Manship’s face remained placid. “Financing. Basically, I liked the idea of going into business with Parker. He had this
incredible enthusiasm and was amazingly creative when it came to concept, menu, and décor. Well, you know him, so you know exactly what I’m talking about. Unfortunately, he wasn’t able to come up with the working capital.”

She glanced at the papers again, wondering if any of the typed words matched the typography on the recovered note. Hard to tell. “And you could.”

There was just a brief hesitation. “Yes.”

“So you let a terrific deal slip through your fingers? Just like that?”

Manship steepled his fingers together, then pulled them apart, making a small gesture of inevitability. “It’s the nature of business,” he told her. “There’s always a raft of interesting opportunities out there, but not all of them work out. And, of course, not all of them align with my particular interests.”

“And just what are your interests?” asked Theodosia.

Manship smiled aself-satisfied smile. “Making a profit, of course.”

“Spoken like a true businessman,” said Theodosia.

Manship held his smile.

“So, help me out here,” said Theodosia. “You hadn’t seen Parker or spoken to him since you cut off your dealings?”

Manship gave an offhand shrug. “Actually, I had dinner at Solstice last Saturday night.”

“Seriously?” First and foremost in her mind sprang the question,
Could Manship have lifted the missing file? And if so, why? To steal Parker’s complete plans for the concept of gourmet Southern and hijack it for himself? Hmm…possibly. Could have happened.

“I was in Charleston for the weekend, visiting friends,” said Manship.

Theodosia eyed him carefully. “Did you, by any chance, attend the opening at the Neptune Aquarium?”

Manship shook his head. “No, no, I was back home by then.” He seemed to take a small amount of pleasure in her
disappointment. “So,” he added, “you’ve come into my office unannounced and asked a lot of very direct questions. I, in turn, have pretty much opened the kimono for you.” He gave a genial smile, a philosophical shrug. Both visual cues that this impromptu meeting was over.

“I thank you for the information,” said Theodosia, standing up to leave. She was disappointed but tried not to show it. After all her questions and efforts, she hadn’t really discovered anything of value at all.

Manship stood up, too, then seemed to waver. It looked like he wanted to add one more thing to the conversation.

“What?” said Theodosia.

“You know, he said, “if you’re trying to piece together your friend’s recent business history, you really should be talking to Peaches Pafford.”

“Excuse me?” said Theodosia. Peaches Pafford was the owner of thefour-star restaurant Aubergine. The same upscale, au courant restaurant that Delaine had been frequenting fortake-out food. Even though takeout from a white-linen, four-star, maybe evenfive-star restaurant seemed a little strange. “Why Peaches Pafford?”

Manship rocked back on his heels. “Because, not so long ago, Peaches extended a rather generous offer to your friend.”

“Um…what?” said Theodosia, not quite comprehending.

“She tried to buy Solstice from him,” said Manship.

Theodosia’s jaw pretty much dropped to the floor. “I had no idea Solstice was even for sale!”

“I didn’t think it was, either,” said Manship. His hand reached out and swiped up the iPhone from his desk. “But if you’ve ever butted heads with the indomitable Peaches, you’d know just how persuasive she can be.”

Theodosia sailed in
the back door of the Indigo Tea Shop, dumped her handbag on top of her desk, then slipped into the steamy kitchen, where lunch service was in full swing.

“Apologies,” she said to Haley. “I thought I’d be back sooner.”

“No problem,” said Haley, without bothering to look up. She was busy slicing fresh mozzarella and plum tomatoes, in between peeks inside her oven where something wonderful bubbled away. As Theodosia looped an apron around her neck, she detected the mingled aromas of cinnamon, oregano, melted cheese, and tea.

Haley finished her chopping and slicing, then finally looked up. “We’ve got a great menu today,” she told Theodosia.

“We have a great menu every day,” said Theodosia.

Haley chuckled. “You know what I mean.”

“Yes, I do,” said Theodosia. “So today we’re serving…”

“Caprese tea sandwiches, zucchini soup, and toffee bars.”

“And some cheesy, bubbly goodness from the oven,” said Theodosia.

“Red pepper quiche,” said Haley.

“So how can I help?” Theodosia asked, staring at a dozen white luncheon plates that looked like they’d been dealt out in a card game.

Haley pulled a baking sheet of toasted flatbread from the oven and said, “You can start by slicing these into wedges. Six per flatbread.”

“I need two more cups of soup,” Drayton called out as he stuck his head in the door. Then he caught sight of Theodosia and said, “Oh, the prodigal owner returns.”

“I told you I’d be back in time for lunch,” said Theodosia.

“So you did,” said Drayton. He peered at her, curiosity evident on his face. “So, did you sleuth anything out on your whirlwind trip down to Savannah?”

“Not really,” said Theodosia. “Not as much as I’d hoped.”

“Drayton and I were talking before,” said Haley, as she expertly plopped lettuce leaves, pesto, and tomato slices onto her flatbread wedges. “And I told him I simply don’t trust that girl.”

“That girl,” Theodosia repeated. “I take it you’re referring to Shelby? The girlfriend?”

Haley let loose an indelicate snort. “Some girlfriend.”

“Why do you say that?” asked Theodosia.

“Because I saw her Sunday night,” said Haley. “When they were setting up at the Neptune Aquarium.”

Theodosia nodded. “Shelby told me she’d helped with the tapas bar.”

“No way,” said Haley, putting some grit in her voice. “Little Miss Girlfriend stood around looking like a princess and never lifted her little pinkie. Parker and Chef Toby did all the work.”

“Just because the girl remained idle or wasn’t helpful,” said Drayton, “doesn’t mean she’s a murderer.” He inclined his head slightly. “Case in point, half the youth today.”

“There’s something about her,” said Haley, who wasn’t about to waver from her conviction, “that I don’t like.”

“You saw her for all of two minutes,” said Theodosia. “So it’s difficult to form a truly, um,
balanced
judgment.” She wanted to dismiss Haley’s suspicions, she really did. But she was strangely hesitant. For some reason, Haley had the uncanny knack of being spot on in her judgment of people. Most of the time, anyway.

“Haley,” said Theodosia, hastily arranging strawberry slices and bunches of tiny purple champagne grapes on luncheon plates, “you have a lot of friends who are chefs andbakers. What’s the local scuttlebutt concerning Peaches Pafford?”

“She’s in the tea room right now,” Drayton said, in a matter- of-fact tone. He placed a basket of blueberry scones and a crystal bowl mounded with Devonshire cream onto a silver tray and smiled.

But his words had just about bowled Theodosia over. “What?” she cried. “Are you serious?”

Drayton gave an offhand shrug. “She wandered in ten minutes ago and plunked herself down at Delaine’s table. Apparently Delaine was supposed to meet someone here for lunch, but they canceled at the last minute.”

“So now Delaine and Peaches are having lunch?” asked Theodosia. Wasn’t that interesting? And possibly serendipitous.

“Well, Delaine’s not actually eating lunch,” said Drayton. “She’s just pushing food around on her plate, mewling about how she needs to lose five pounds. So, long story short, I brewed a pot of that special black Nilgiri tea, the tea I ordered from the Chamraj Estate. And I told her it was dieter’s tea.” Drayton gave a perfunctory grin, then aimed a look of supreme exasperation at Haley. “However, Peaches and several other customers are
still
waiting for their red pepper quiche, if I may be so bold as to inquire when it’s going to emerge from your oven?”

“Keep your shirt on,” Haley told him, as she pulled open the oven door and peeked inside again. “Yeah, it’s coming. Five more minutes.”

“Five?” said Drayton.

“You can’t rush cheesy goodness,” Haley told him.

“And Peaches is out there having lunch?” Theodosia asked.