Free Agony of the Leaves: Tea Shop Mystery #13 by Laura Childs

as she clicked off.
I really wish I were that smart.
    Savannah was as
charming as ever. Elegant homes festooned with lacy wrought iron, lush and large city squares, vest-pocket parks, and an abundance of pattering fountains. Though the architecture and ambience were somewhat reminiscent of Charleston, Theodosia definitely felt that the pace here was a tad slower. In fact, when locals pronounced their vowels, it seemed more like a leisurely exercise.
    Checking the printout from her computer, Theodosia drove down Harris Street, turned on Abercorn, and immediately spotted a tasteful painted wooden sign for the restaurant Chimera.
    Chimera was housed in an old mansion withRegency-period architecture along with plenty of fancy scrollwork and Greek motifs.
    She climbed the front steps, knocked on the polished wooden double doors, and waited. Nothing. No footsteps, nobody front and center to buzz her into the inner sanctum.
    Probably, she decided, because there was nobody here?
    Descending the front steps, Theodosia followed a narrow brick driveway around to the back, past a tangle of magnolias where flocks of butterflies fluttered and random bees buzzed. She continued under a columned stone portico and directly up to a large wooden door, what had probably been the service entrance when this served as someone’s grand home. What was probably
still
the service entrance.
    Theodosia gave three sharp raps with her knuckles and waited. A few minutes later, a young woman came to the door. She had a distracted look and a cap of brown curls, and she wore purplehorn-rimmed glasses that coordinated nicely with her mauve blouse and cream linen slacks. Maybe an office manager or bookkeeper?
    Theodosia smiled a pleasant smile and said, “I’m looking for Lyle Manship?”
    The woman offered a hesitant smile. “Were you supposed to meet him here?” Her nose twitched like a suspicious rabbit. “Did he mess up his appointment times again?” She looked like she might be planning to give Manship a good talking-to.
    “No, nothing like that,” Theodosia assured her. “I was just in the neighborhood and decided to drop by. Really,” she assured the woman, “this is just an impromptu visit.”
    “In that case,” said the woman, “he should be over at Violet’s right now. That’s where our main office is.”
    “Of course,” said Theodosia, giving what she hoped was a brilliant smile, along with an AcademyAward–worthy performance. “Violet’s.”
    “You know how to get there?”
    “Back down Abercorn and then…”
    “Past Oglethorpe Square, turn left at Reynolds Square…”
    “And then down St. Julian,” said Theodosia.
    “That’s right. Almost to the City Market,” the woman instructed. “Parking lot’s in back.”
    “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