Free Ming Tea Murder by Laura Childs

the next block, the Granville Mansion stood hunkered in gloom. It was far more tastefully done, but was still waiting for a buyer after Dougan Granville, Delaine’s fiancé and the home’s owner, had been murdered last June. It had been priced high at almost four million dollars, so no takers thus far.
    Then her headlights swept across the front of her own small cottage, and Theodosia’s heart swelled with pride. Because she truly adored this cute little Queen Anne–style cottage that she had scrimped and saved for—her own little place, with the endearing name of Hazelhurst. How many plates of scones had she sold to make the down payment? How many pots of tea had she ferried to customers? It didn’t matter; the Indigo Tea Shop was a labor of love, the home was in her name, and that was all that mattered.
    Pulling to the curb, Theodosia gazed lovingly at the exterior. Her quirky little home fairly oozed street appeal, thanks to its slightly asymmetrical design and rough cedar tiles that replicated a thatched roof. The exterior walls were brick and stucco, and there was an arched door, wooden cross gables, and the blip of a two-story turret. To complete the look, lush curls of ivy meandered up the sides of her house.
    Theodosia had barely gone three steps up the cobblestone walk when the front door flew open, and there stood Max with Earl Grey at his side. Earl Grey had been a terrified, half-starved puppy when she’d found him huddled in the rain in the alley behind the Indigo Tea Shop. Now he was a magnificent animal with his dappled coat (she thought of him as a Dalbrador), expressive eyes, and fine, aristocratic muzzle.
    Bending forward, she clapped her hands together, and called, “Hey, pup!”
    That was all Earl Grey needed. He dive-bombed toward her, almost knocking her off her feet as he buried his head in hands that moved gently and lovingly over him, patting ears, muzzle, and neck.
    â€œNice to see you, too,” Theodosia told him.
    â€œRrwwr,” said Earl Grey.
    â€œI am home kind of late,” said Theodosia. “Sorry about that.” She looked up. “But I see Max dropped by. Were you two enjoying some playtime?”
    â€œWe went for a run together,” said Max. “Down to the harbor.”
    â€œGreat,” said Theodosia. She threw Max a questioning look. “Well?” She hadn’t heard from him all day and was dying to know what happened.
    â€œI’ve definitely been fired,” said Max. “There’s not much else to say.”
    â€œAu contraire,” said Theodosia, “there’s a lot more to say.” She dusted her hands together. “Why don’t we go inside and you can tell me what’s going on.”
    Max sat in a wooden Shaker-style rocking chair while Theodosia kicked off her shoes and curled up on her chintz-covered sofa. Earl Grey lay on the Aubusson carpet, equidistant between the two of them and looking a little nervous, as if he might be called upon to referee.
    â€œSo tell me,” said Theodosia.
    Max lifted one hand. “It’s pretty much over. I’m not
technically
fired yet; I guess HR has to draw up some legal documents. But I’ve been put on unpaid leave.”
    â€œAnd why is that exactly? What reason did they give? Don’t tell me this is because of the photo booth?” Theodosia had given some thought to the reason behind Max’s firing and decided the photo booth couldn’t be the
real
reason. It was far too petty. It had to be a smokescreen for something else.
    Max shook his head. “Not the photo booth. That’s really just an unfortunate add-on. Turns out the board was upset about an argument I had with Edgar Webster.”
    â€œYou argued with him?” This was news to her. “When?”
    â€œCouple days ago.”
    â€œOver what?”
    â€œOh, it was stupid, really,” said Max. “Almost