Agony of the Leaves: Tea Shop Mystery #13

by Laura Childs

  “Black tea,” said Drayton, half closing his eyes, the better to rhapsodize, “with bits of butter cookie, pistachio, almond, and orange.”

  “Sounds more like dessert,” said Haley. “I mean, I’m sure it’s tasty and all that, but it sure is different from your usual offerings.”

  Drayton peered over hishalf-glasses at Haley. “I like to keep you on your toes.”

  “You do, Drayton,” said Haley, “in fact, sometimes you step on them.”

  “And for dessert?” Theodosia asked, trying to keep the discussion moving forward.

  “Oh,” said Haley, pulling herself back to the business at hand. “We’ve got pumpkin bread parfait, brownie bites, and I’ve got butter cake baking in the oven right now.”

  Tilting his head back, Drayton gave a tiny genteel sniff. “Ah, you do indeed.”

  Five minutes later, a clutch of customers came pouring in and, just like that, a busy Monday kicked off. Haley retreated to her fiefdom in the kitchen while Theodosia and Drayton did theirwhirling-twirling tea shop ballet of pouring tea, presenting plates of scones and bowls of jam, and whooshing away dirty dishes.

  “We just received a call from the Broad Street Garden Club,” Drayton told Theodosia, as he hung up the phone at the front counter. “The ladies made reservations for a tea luncheon on Thursday. They specifically asked for four courses, if we can manage it.” He paused. “Usually that group is somewhathoity-toity and opt for lobster thermidor at the Lady Goodwood Inn, so I’m a little surprised they chose us.”

  Theodosia paused at the front counter, ablue-and-white Chinese teapot in one hand, a plate of scones in the other. “After last night,” she told Drayton, “I don’t think anything can surprise me.”

  Which was exactly when the door flew open and a mournful face seemed to sway in front of Theodosia. A young woman stared directly at her and said, in a whispering voice, “Miss Browning? I need to talk to you. I’m…I mean I was…Parker’s girlfriend.”

  5

  It was a stunning conclusion to a rather strange morning, and Theodosia, completely taken aback, gasped sharply and simply stared. Then, upon seeing the sad, stricken expression on the girl’s face, hastily gathered her wits about her and said, “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  That seemed to break the initial tension between them. The girl touched an index finger to her chest and said, “Shelby McCawley. Nice to finally meet you.”

  Theodosia nodded. “Theodosia Browning. But then, you knew that, didn’t you?”

  Shelby bobbed her head. “Could we…is there someplace we can talk privately?”

  Theodosia led Shelby through theceladon-green velvet curtain into the back of the tea shop. Past the postagestamp–sized kitchen and into her cluttered, crowded office where stacks of red hats, boxes of teapots, and tea catalogs threatened to overrun the place.

  “Please,” said Theodosia. “Sit down.” She gestured toward the oversized brocade chair that faced her desk. The one they’d dubbed “the tuffet.”

  Shelby sat down while Theodosia did a quick hop across a stack of wild grapevine wreaths and slid behind her desk. She moved a stack of tea catalogs, which were stacked too high and threatening to topple over, out of her way. “Now…what did you… ?” She paused, regrouped, and said, “How can I help you?” Then Theodosia decided her words still sounded a little brusque, so she said again, “I’m so sorry about Parker.”

  Shelby bobbed her head as tears sprang to her eyes. “It’s awful. Shocking.” She dropped her head forward and fine, straightlight-brown hair fell like a curtain over her face. Then she pulled it together and smiled at Theodosia. Shelby was young, twenty-six, maybetwenty-seven, with dazzling dark eyes and a pale oval face. She wasmodel-thin and dressed in skinny jeans with awell-cut white shirt tied at her waist.

  “So you two were, um, going together…dating?” said Theodosia.

  “For the past two months,” said Shelby. She pulled a hanky from her woven leather bag and wiped at her tears. “I was really crazy about him. We were pretty crazy about each other.” She paused, sniffled, and said, “But he told me about you.”

  Theodosia flapped a hand, as if to dismiss her past relationship with Parker.

  “He really thought the world of you,” said Shelby.

  “Oh, I don’t know about that…”

  “No,” said Shelby, “Parker was always very complimentary about you. In fact, that’s one of the things I admired about him. Some guys, they’ll grab any opportunity to slam their old girlfriends. Parker never did that.”

  “He wasn’t like that,” Theodosia murmured, almost to herself.

  “No, he wasn’t,” said Shelby. “And he told me something else about you.”

  “What was that?” asked Theodosia.

  “He said you were smart. And not justsmart-smart, but clever, too.”

  “Kind of him,” said Theodosia. She was beginning to get a funny vibe in the pit of her stomach. Probably, Shelby hadn’t come here for a purely social call. And she wasn’t here just to commiserate, either.

  It took only a few moments for Shelby to drop her bombshell.

  “I was hoping you could sort of…investigate,” said Shelby. She shook her head sadly. “This whole drowning thing, I’m having a hard time buying it.”

  You, too? Theodosia thought.

  But Theodosia’s next words pretty muchpooh-poohed Shelby’s request. “I’m sorry, but you’re talking to the wrong person. You should be trying to persuade Detective Tidwell to delve into this more thoroughly. To develop some sort of case.”

  “I did try,” said Shelby.

  “Okay,” said Theodosia, playing it cool.

  “And he believes it was an accident.”

  “Which it probably was,” said Theodosia. It pretty much killed her to say that. Especially since she didn’t believe it.

  Shelby stared across the desk, her limpid brown eyes swimming with tears. “But you don’t really believe that, do you?”

  Theodosia’s reply was practically a whisper. “No.”

  “Then could you sort of nose around? I know you’ve done investigations before. Parker told me all about it.”

  Still Theodosia hedged. “I don’t know. Detective Tidwell would probably get awfully upset.” Then again, when wasn’t he upset?

  Shelby gave a little shudder. “Tidwell. That man is definitely not a nice person. In fact, I had the dubious pleasure of meeting him last night.”

  Theodosia peered at Shelby with renewed interest. “You were there last night? At the Neptune Aquarium?”

  Shelby bobbed her head. “Yes, but only for about thirty minutes. I helped Parker set up the tapas table and then I…I left.”

  “You went home?” asked Theodosia.

  “That’s right.”

  “Then how did you meet Detective Tidwell?”

  Shelby wrapped her arms around herself and hunched forward. “He came to my house. With some other police officers. To deliver the bad news.”

  “Kind of him.”

  “Not really. He was basically deadpan about the whole thing.” Shelby let loose another quick shudder. “Dead. Ooh. What a terrible choice of words.”

  Theodosia had a decision to make. She could put a commiserating arm around Shelby’s shoulders, lead her to the front door, and bid the young womangood-bye. Or she could ask a few questions. Maybe probe a little deeper into what Parker had been involved in lately.

  The choice was easy.

  “Shelby, if I did explore a few angles, would you be able to tell me what had been going on in Parker’s life?”

  “I think so. I could try.”

  “Were there problems with his restaurant? With Solstice?”

  Shelby nodded. “Some. Why?” She brightened. “Oh, you’re looking for clues? For suspects?”

  Theodosia let that question slide by her. “Was Parker involved in any disagreements that you know of? Personal or legal?”

  “Mmm…maybe.”

  “I’m talking
about vendors, business partners, or even customers,” said Theodosia.

  Shelby considered this. “I know for a fact that Parker was upset with a couple of people.”

  “Can you tell me who?”

  “Joe Beaudry, for one,” said Shelby.

  “The lawyer,” said Theodosia. She knew Joe Beaudry purely through his obnoxious TV commercials: cheesythirty-second messages that promised Beaudry would handle your divorce, debts, or DUI. “What about Beaudry?” Theodosia asked.

  “It had to do with financing,” said Shelby. “Parker needed additional funding and Beaudry kind of led him on. I mean, Beaudry was coming into Solstice practically every night, rhapsodizing about their hot new partnership while he guzzledtwo-hundred-dollar bottles of Cristal or Château Latour. Then, after all the meetings and free dinners, Beaudry finally dropped the hammer and told Parker he wouldn’t be able to finance his new restaurant after all.”

  “What new restaurant was that?”

  “Parker wanted to open a seafood restaurant called Carolina Jack’s. He’d drawn up plans for a raw bar as well as fine dining. He also hired a restaurant planner and had scouted a location.”

  “Where was that?” asked Theodosia.

  “Fairly close to here,” said Shelby. “The former Portofino’s Pizza over on East Bay Street.”

  Theodosia knew the location. It would have made a fine choice, close to tourist areas, in a fun section of town. “Was there anyone else Parker might have been upset with? Or who was upset with him?”

  Shelby put a hand to her forehead, as if trying to recollect somelong-forgotten snippet of information. “There was another restaurant owner.”

  Theodosia felt another little twinge deep down in her gut. “Do you know who it was? Someone local or…perhaps one who was located in Savannah?”

  Shelby frowned. “I don’t know.” She swiped at her eyes again with her damp hanky. “Are you…will you still look into things?”

  “I’ll have to think about it,” Theodosia told her. But deep in her heart Theodosia told herself, I really do need to look into this.

  Theodosia didn’t return to the scene of the crime, but she did return to Solstice. Right after lunch, once she was sure Drayton and Haley had customers and food service well in hand, she jumped in her Jeep and zipped across town. Bumping down a narrow cobblestone alley, she parked at the back door.

  And wondered how many times in the past couple of years she’d casually navigated this back street, then parked here and run in? How many times, in more recent days, had Shelby done the same thing?

  The restaurant looked closed, but Theodosia pounded on the back door anyway, in the off chance somebody might be there. And just when she was about to give up, the lock clicked, the door opened, and René Martine, the sous chef, stuck his head out the back door.

  “Hey,” René said, a smile blooming on his handsome face when he recognized her. “It’s you.” He opened the door wider to let her step inside.

  René was half French, half African American, a talented young man who’d emigrated from Montserrat in the Caribbean and just recently graduated from Charleston’s Johnson and Wales culinary school. Theodosia figured in another two years or so, René would be executive chef at one of Charleston’s premier restaurants. That was, if he didn’t open a place of his own.

  “You okay?” Theodosia asked, giving René a quick hug.

  René’s face crumpled. “Not so good. Just…still in shock, I guess.”

  “Of course you are,” said Theodosia. “It’s impossible to prepare for a tragedy like this.” She glanced into the kitchen, where baskets of green goods sat on the counter. “You’re not prepping, are you? The restaurant’s not going to be open tonight?”

  René made a What can you do? gesture. “His brother, Charles, he says we should stay open.”

  Theodosia was shocked. “That’s just plain weird! You’d think Charles would want to close for a few days, um, out of respect.”

  “Maybe he thinks because we’re all on the payroll…”

  “Maybe,” said Theodosia. She drew breath and said, “So, have the police been by?”

  René nodded. “They just left, maybe twenty minutes ago.” His voice carried a pleasing, languid Caribbean lilt.

  That was a positive sign, Theodosia decided. It meant Tidwell had given some credence to her fears. So, hopefully, he was proceeding full speed ahead, treating Parker’s death as a possible homicide. “Do you know…did they find anything interesting in Parker’s office, or take anything with them?”

  “Not that I could tell,” said René. “Mostly they just nosed around the place and took a few photos.”

  “Did the police go through Parker’s computer?”

  “One of them sat down and took a look. Then he e-mailed whatever he thought was significant to their tech people. He also stuck a flash drive in and copied everything.”

  “They’ll send it all to the forensic computer lab,” Theodosia murmured.

  “Parker’s computer wasn’t password protected or anything,” René added. “In fact, I don’t think he’d updated his software for a while. There was just an old Word program he used for keeping track of menus and recipes.”

  “Did Parker have a calendar?”

  “Probably. But I don’t know where it is.”

  “Mind if I take a look? Go in his office?” Yet again.

  René cast an appraising eye at her. “I don’t think Parker would have minded. You know, back in the day, he was pretty crazy about you.”

  “Thank you,” Theodosia said, her voice sounding dry and papery, just this side of choked. “That means a lot to me.”

  Theodosia was sitting in Parker’s desk chair, spinning listlessly from side to side, when Chef Toby walked in.

  “Find anything else?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “But the police were just here, so maybe they uncovered something.”

  “You think?” said Chef Toby. He seemed doubtful, especially since their search last night hadn’t produced much of anything.

  “I know I asked you this before,” said Theodosia, “but do you know if Parker was having problems or issues with anyone?”

  René poked his head in. He’d obviously been listening. “That guy in Savannah,” he said to Chef Toby, who nodded immediately.

  “The scary guy?” said Theodosia. The restaurant guy Shelby had mentioned?

  “Manship,” said René. “His name is Lyle Manship.”

  “And he currently owns a couple of restaurants?” said Theodosia.

  “Chimera, a fairly fancy restaurant, and another one named Violet’s,” said René.

  “Successful?” asked Theodosia.

  “According to the grapevine, yes,” said René.

  “And maybe someone local that Parker was having trouble with?”

  Chef Toby and René stared at each other.

  “News to me,” said René, while Chef Toby just shrugged.

  “What about Joe Beaudry?” said Theodosia. Shelby’s story about the freeloading Beaudry was still fresh in her mind.

  “That’s right,” said Chef Toby, “the lawyer.”

  “I think Beaudry might have promised some financing, then pulled it,” said René.

  “But it sounds as if Parker had more cause to be angry than Beaudry,” Theodosia mused. After all, what would Beaudry have been upset about? There didn’t seem to be any motive.

  “Still,” said René, “Beaudry’s a sleazy guy.”

  Theodosia gazed at ared-and-yellow poster tacked to the wall, thinking about Joe Beaudry, feeling a certain fuzziness. As her mind rambled, she noted that the typeface on the poster said FUND-RAISER in bouncy black letters. Then Theodosia’s mind seemed to snap back into focus and she said, “Perhaps I should pay Beaudry a visit.”

  A quick Google search revealed that Joe Beaudry’s office was located over on Columbus Street. Theodosia thought for a minute, checked her watch, and decided she had time. After all, right now was alwa
ys better than later. When you just showed up to ask questions, it gave people little time to prepare.

  Some ten minutes later, Theodosia was standing outside a tall, elegant red brick building with narrow white shutters and a white door flanked by shiny brass sconces. But that was where any class or elegance ended.

  Inside was a small waiting room, filled with ahalf-dozentired-looking people sitting on ragtag pieces of furniture, and a reception desk staffed by atired-looking receptionist.

  “Just sign in,” the receptionist told Theodosia without bothering to look up.

  “I don’t have an appointment,” Theodosia told her. “I’m here on personal business.”

  The receptionist looked up.

  Theodosia offered a wistful smile. “I’m afraid it concerns Parker Scully.”

  The receptionist, afifty-something woman with frizzy red hair, wire-rimmed glasses, and a very kind face, said, “Wasn’t that awful? I was just reading about it in the newspaper.”

  Sensing a kindred spirit, Theodosia said, “I was there at the Neptune Aquarium last night. I can’t tell you how bad it was.”

  “And he was such a nice man, too,” the receptionist said in hushed tones.

  Theodosia glanced across the receptionist’s desk and saw a wooden sign that spelled out BETTY. “Betty,” she said, “I just need a minute with Joe.”

  Betty considered her request for a moment, then held up a finger and said, “Give me a sec.” She stood up, smoothed her tight black skirt, and disappeared into a nearby office with a swish of taffeta. Thirty seconds later, Betty was back at her post. “You can go in, but Mr. Beaudry says he’s only got two minutes. I’m afraid he has a very full afternoon.”

  “Understood,” said Theodosia. “And thank you.”

  Joe Beaudry didn’t bother to stand up when Theodosia entered his office. Instead, he looked up, creaked back in his chair, and said, “So you were there, huh?” He was aslat-thin man with a long, thin face and piercing dark eyes. He had a shock of unrulysalt-and-pepper hair even though he looked to be in his midforties.

  “That’s right,” said Theodosia. She crossed his office swiftly and seated herself in one of the black leather club chairs that faced his desk. “And it wasn’t a pretty sight.”