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

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. Andthey 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 thisincredible 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