She looked down at her hand where clotted cream had congealed. “I checked her pulse. There was none. It looked like a knife was missing from the set on the counter. There was so much blood,” she said again.
“If the knife wasn’t embedded . . . if the killer took it with him or her, that’s why she bled out so fast,” Jonas said, almost to himself. “You called the police?”
“Of course.”
“I’m on my way. Keep talking to me.”
She didn’t know what to say. So as Jonas got into his car and drove to her, she told him who was at Margaret’s house, what she had served, and what everyone had talked about.
Finally, when Jonas arrived, he rushed past everyone to the butler’s pantry.
Daisy had placed a kitchen stool there to sit on and guard the room. Now she rose to her feet and stepped into his arms. When she circled his neck, he held her tight.
Glancing over her shoulder, he asked, “Is that where it happened?”
Cora Sue was beside him in a minute. “In there. That’s where it happened. None of us heard anything. Wouldn’t Margaret have screamed when someone stabbed her?”
Daisy was shaking so hard she knew Jonas could feel it. She felt his deep breath when he took it. He’d left Philadelphia exactly because he hadn’t wanted to be involved in crime scenes. Now here he was . . . because of her.
Others began asking questions of him. Daniel Copeland called loudly, “Are you in contact with the police? Who’s handling this?”
Glenda said shakily, “I can’t believe she’s gone.”
Heidi asked, “Do we all have to stay here?”
Daisy knew the answers to most of their questions, but she was in no condition to give out information. With his arm around her, Jonas took her to the dining room and told her to sit.
Then he said to the others, “None of you can leave. The police will want to question each of you and take your statements.”
Daisy heard the protests.
“But I don’t know anything.”
“I wasn’t even in the dining room.”
“I wasn’t anywhere near the butler’s pantry.”
With his hand on Daisy’s shoulder, Jonas announced, “Anyone who was here in this house is going to be questioned. So make yourselves comfortable and don’t go near the butler’s pantry.”
As he was about to go to the butler’s pantry door again, Daisy could see him stop and listen. He heard the sirens and she did too. Not long after, both Detective Rappaport and Detective Willet came rushing in.
Detective Morris Rappaport began barking orders as soon as he walked into the house. Practically before Daisy could blink, he put Zeke Willet in charge of the crime scene, separated all the witnesses, and demanded that Daisy follow him to Margaret’s study. He wouldn’t let Jonas accompany her.
Her legs still felt a little bit wobbly. She sank into the first chair inside the door. It was a steel gray leather club chair, but she hardly took notice.
Instead of taking a position at the desk, Detective Rappaport pulled another club chair directly opposite her. “You’re awfully white,” he noticed. “You aren’t going to faint on me, are you?”
In spite of her resolve to stay strong, she felt as weak as one of her underbrewed teas. “Do you carry smelling salts?”
He scowled. “No, but from all that paraphernalia out there, I could probably get you a cup of tea.”
In spite of not wanting to be a problem for him, she said, “That would be good. Hot and strong.”
Rappaport took out his phone from his suit jacket, scrolled to his contacts, and quickly sent a text message. With a gentler expression he tucked his phone away. “Do you think you could answer some questions?”
Although she felt cold to her core, and somewhat removed from reality, she nodded.
Removing a small notebook and pen from his inside jacket pocket, he directed, “Start at the beginning. Tell me why you were here, your impression of everyone else who was here, and what happened.”
Daisy’s thoughts raced until she looked into Rappaport’s keen eyes and began. The first part was easy. Margaret had hired Daisy to prepare a tea service for herself and the cast members. Daisy easily gave her impressions of the service and the tea, the food they’d served, and how everyone had enjoyed it.
A patrol officer, Bart Cosner, brought her a cup of tea. “I didn’t put anything in it.”
Daisy tried to smile and thanked him. Hot and strong, she suspected. Cora Sue had brewed it for her.
Rappaport continued with questions now and then, such as “Was there any tension around the table?” “Did anyone argue?” “Was everybody at the table when the murder happened?”
This part of the interrogation was more difficult. Daisy had to remember who was where. With her head beginning to throb, she told him that she and Cora Sue and Tamlyn were at the table along with Margaret until the hostess received a phone call. Daniel Copeland had gone out for a smoke. Glenda Nurmi had excused herself to stretch back muscles. Heidi Korn stayed and Arden Botterill had gone outside for fresh air. Cora Sue had gone to the powder room but came right back.
“And Jasper Lazar?” the detective asked, looking at his notebook.
“I think he went to Rowan’s library.”
“I suppose this house has several entrances.”
“It does, including a back entrance into the butler’s pantry. But the thing is, there are steps going upstairs at the butler’s pantry too. So anyone could have taken the front stairs, gone up and around, and come back down the back stairs into the pantry.”
“And left by the back door.”
Daisy nodded. “Right. This is complicated,” she told Detective Rappaport.
“Murder usually is. And how does Jonas figure into this?” Rappaport asked.
“He doesn’t. While I was waiting for you, I called him.”
“Why?”
“You have to ask?”
Rappaport stuffed his notebook back into his pocket. “No, I suppose I don’t. Besides being your significant other, he’s helped you solve four other murders.”
At that moment, Zeke Willet walked into the study. He didn’t knock first. With short blond hair and dark brown eyes, his arrogantly square jaw said he didn’t have to knock.
“Don’t you think that’s kind of weird?” he asked Detective Rappaport. “Mrs. Swanson has been involved in four other murder cases, and now this one. Finding bodies and being around killers seem to be her MO.”
Daisy had had arguments with Zeke Willet before. Suddenly she felt all her fight come back. “This is the first body I’ve found.”
“You sound proud of that,” he returned. “As if it’s some kind of accomplishment.”
She knew her cheeks were reddening because her face was getting hot.
Rappaport must have seen that. “Willet, are you faulting Mrs. Swanson because she has good deductive skills, maybe better than we do?”
“She’s been lucky,” Zeke Willet returned.
But Rappaport just rubbed his chin. “I’m not sure lucky enters into it. She knows how to ask questions, and she doesn’t treat everyone she meets as if they were hostile witnesses. You might be better served to do the same.”
Zeke Willet’s face turned ruddy. “Why are you encouraging her?”
“I’m not encouraging her,” Detective Rappaport protested. “I’ve warned her more times than I can count to stay away from our cases. But the truth is, now and then, she provides us with good information. So don’t look a gift horse in the mouth. How’s the crime scene coming?”
Still scowling, the detective answered, “It’s going to take a while. We can’t move everyone outside because it’s simply too cold. Officer Schwartz has interrogated a few of the witnesses in his patrol car and kept the heat running. We let them go home.”
“Which ones?”
“Cora Sue Bauer and Mr. Copeland. Tamlyn went to her quarters upstairs. Schwartz is finishing with Miss Korn now. Speaking of host
ile, Arden Botterill is acting as if she had something to hide . . . Glenda Nurmi too. I questioned both of them. They’re all coming down to the station tomorrow to sign their statements.”
Daisy doubted Arden had anything to hide. She simply didn’t like being questioned.
Suddenly Jonas stood in the doorway to the study. His gaze took them all in at a glance. “Are you finished with Daisy?” he asked Detective Rappaport.
“I might have to question her again tomorrow, or Zeke will.”
Daisy felt her phone vibrate in the pocket of her apron. It had a reverberating tuba sound that let her hear it even when the tea garden was busy. Throughout questioning, she’d kept the phone on vibrate. Now she took it from her pocket and started when she saw the caller ID on the screen. It was Vi.
“I have to take this,” she said.
Rappaport motioned Zeke outside the door into the hallway. Jonas stood by Daisy’s chair.
“Mom, I’ve gone into labor. I called Willa and she’s on her way. Can you come?”
“How far apart are the contractions?”
“Four minutes. Does that mean the baby’s going to come soon? They’re really strong.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. I’ll be there in under ten minutes. Hold tight, honey.”
When Daisy looked up at Jonas, he asked, “Is Vi in labor?”
She nodded.
Holding her arm, Jonas led her past Detective Rappaport and Detective Willet. He explained, “Daisy’s going to be a grandmother. If you have any questions, you’ll have to call her tomorrow.”
Both men looked surprised . . . but neither uttered a word.
* * *
In spite of his former law enforcement training, or maybe because of it, Jonas sped Daisy to the apartment over her garage while she texted Jazzi to come home directly from school. They parked in the driveway, then Daisy jumped out of the car, ran inside the garage and up the stairs. Her heart pounded and not just from running.
Foster met her at the head of the stairs.
The apartment was decidedly tight on space. It was one open room really, except for a bedroom that had a connecting bath with a sink, commode, and walk-in shower. When the architect had consulted with Vi and Foster, they’d decided to design a bigger bedroom rather than to try to wall off space for a nursery. A screen separated the couple’s area from the crib. They were hoping that by the end of the baby’s first year they could rent a bigger place somewhere else.
“How is she?” Daisy asked breathlessly.
“She’s asking for you,” Foster said, looking stressed out.
“But Willa’s here?”
“Yes, and she said everything’s normal, whatever the heck that means.”
“Let’s go find out.” Daisy headed for the bedroom area.
Jonas reached the apartment as Daisy was ready to head into the bedroom. He called to her. “Do you want me to stay or go?”
Would Jonas rather go to his own place and wait to hear about the baby, or did he really want to stay here with her? “It’s up to you,” she said when their eyes met.
“I’ll stay,” he said. “I can be handy if you need something special.”
“Thank you.” It was all she could manage before she turned to go to her daughter and the baby she was about to deliver.
Daisy knew that Willa had attended the midwifery program at the University of Pennsylvania. She had two certifications, one given by the American Midwifery Certification Board, and another to be a women’s health nurse practitioner. Vi had asked Willa a variety of questions before hiring her: Do you have experience with turning babies? Do you do gestational diabetes screening? What is your hospital transfer rate?
Vi had also asked herself questions to see if Willa was a good fit. Would she want Willa to be her friend? Did she allow all the questions Vi and Foster wanted to ask? Did Vi enjoy being with Willa? How did Foster respond to her? Vi had ticked off all the boxes with Willa and decided she’d be more than comfortable with her. Foster had been positive about their interactions too . . . as well as Daisy.
Daisy liked Willa. She found her intelligent, experienced, compassionate, and caring. But she was still worried. She knew birth was a natural process, but Mother Nature had her quirks.
At Violet’s side now, Daisy’s attention transferred away from the murder, away from the awful sight of Margaret’s body, to what was happening in the present moment. The pain on her daughter’s face and the anticipation of seeing her first grandchild born was all that mattered. As expected, Willa was monitoring everything about the baby, from its heartbeat to its position to its journey through the birth canal.
To Daisy’s surprise, Jonas was a big help. For the next few hours he made and brought ice chips to the doorway so Daisy could have them ready for Vi. Jazzi came in, eager to help too. Using the stackable washer and dryer in the back of the garage, she made sure her mom and Willa were constantly supplied with clean towels and linens.
Jazzi tried to distract Vi by talking about anything and everything.
Foster stayed by Vi’s side for the first three hours. She clung to his hand during contractions until he lost circulation in his fingers. Daisy could see Foster was awed and unnerved by the birthing process. She was afraid Vi was holding back her reactions because Foster was there.
Taking a short break herself, Daisy went to the kitchen, where Jonas was unloading the dishwasher. She said, “It’s intense in there, and there’s no way to tell how much longer Vi will be in labor. Each time she has a contraction, Foster looks as if he’s going to faint. It will get worse before the baby’s born.”
“What’s the midwife doing for her?”
“She’s massaging her back, having her walk around the room and sit on one of those big exercise balls. Jazzi is encouraging Vi through all of it. The idea of having a midwife is for her to encourage the family to be part of the birth. But Foster is so emotionally involved, I think he’s freaking out.”
“What if I take Foster for a walk and encourage him to call Gavin?”
“That would be great. Not too long. Merely long enough so he gets some fresh air and braces a bit and lets Gavin know what’s happening.”
Jonas tenderly touched Daisy’s cheek. “And how are you?”
“As long as I don’t think, I’m fine.”
He smiled. “Not thinking is an impossibility for you.”
“It is, but thinking about the baby—if we have everything for the layette, what Vi and Foster might name him—keeps me from thinking about the scene we left at Margaret’s house.”
Jonas brought Daisy in for a hug. “You didn’t need that after what happened last time.”
“I didn’t go looking for this, Jonas.”
“No, you didn’t, and you can stay out of the police investigation.”
She nodded, rubbing her cheek against his flannel shirt. “I will.” She raised her head. “I know they’re probably going to ask me more questions, but after that and I sign my statement, that’s it.”
Daisy had brought a carafe with her from Vi’s room. Stepping away from Jonas, she filled it with water. “I’m going to go back in. I’ll send Foster out. Vi is seven centimeters dilated, so birth can happen fast or it could take another couple of hours.”
Jonas nodded his understanding. “I’ll let Foster blow off steam and then we’ll be back.”
Before Daisy moved too far away, Jonas pulled her in for another long hug, then he let her go.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
“For what?”
“For being here.”
He didn’t have to say the words I told you I would be. Maybe she was starting to trust him. Maybe she was beginning to believe in him.
About a half hour later when Jonas returned with Foster, Foster’s cheeks were red from the cold, but he looked steadier. He looked as if he was ready to face whatever was coming. A baby was going to change his world, and he seemed to realize that. Maybe his talk with his dad, who was pragmatic, had reinforce
d that fact.
Two hours later with a cry of joy of her own, Daisy watched the infant being delivered. With tears on her cheeks, she realized she was now the grandmother of Samuel Ryan Cranshaw.
They all had tears in their eyes . . . even Jonas.
* * *
Daisy would never forget the expression on Vi’s and Foster’s faces when little Sammy had been laid in Vi’s arms. Willa had stayed until Sammy had successfully breastfed and she’d given Vi other instructions. Gavin had stopped in to give his support but hadn’t stayed long. Jonas had left to take Jazzi to school and go to work. He’d only had a few hours of sleep on the couch, but he’d told Daisy he was used to that. As a detective, he caught sleep when he could. Jazzi had insisted she was fine. She’d crash tonight.
Midmorning, Daisy walked into the kitchen, little Sammy cuddled in her arms. She could lay him in the crib. Vi and Foster were sleeping. Still . . . she couldn’t stop looking at the baby and drinking him in—the little wisps of medium brown hair, his tiny button nose, his pudgy cheeks, and the definite cleft in the chin that was just like Foster’s. He was indeed a miracle.
Daisy’s phone vibrated in her pocket. Sinking down onto the sofa, she made sure her arm was propped just right with the baby at a comfortable angle. Maybe somebody at the tea garden needed something. Or maybe it was Gavin. She’d videotaped the birth and texted it to him as soon as Sammy had arrived. He’d said he’d stop in as soon as he could.
After Daisy checked the number on the screen and the caller ID, Zeke Willet’s name popped up.
“Hello?” she said tentatively, watching Sammy’s eyelids flutter.
“Mrs. Swanson, it’s Detective Willet.”
“Yes?”
“I need to ask you a few more questions. Can you come down to the station?”
“I’m sorry, I can’t.” Before the detective could decide that she was being antagonistic, she explained, “My daughter had her baby last night. I’m taking care of Sammy while she and her husband sleep. We were up most of the night.”
Detective Willet seemed at a loss for words. “I see. So you don’t know when you can get away?”
Daisy really did want to cooperate. “You’re welcome to come here. I’m in the apartment above the garage on my property. I had a doorbell installed at the side garage door, but don’t bother ringing that. Just text me when you’re close and I’ll know you’re coming.”
Murder with Clotted Cream Page 5
