“What did you have to drink?” Daisy asked.
Jazzi wrapped her hands around the mug as if the warmth of the tea could give her comfort. “I had beer.”
“How many? I saw a can in your tote.”
“Three or four.”
Daisy gave her a penetrating look.
“And two shots of something else. I don’t know what it was. Sherry had these little bottles of something. I’ve seen them in motel room snack bars.”
“And where did you drink? Certainly not in the community room.”
After Jazzi took a sip of tea, she took another. “We went behind the building where the fire engines turn around. A couple of us slipped out. Nobody noticed. The beer was waiting back there for us. When Natalie and I went back in, two more of the kids slipped out.”
There was another fact Daisy needed. “Was this planned? When you joined Jonas and me, was it your intent to get drunk tonight?”
“No! Not at all. Sherry planned it. Honest, Mom, I didn’t know about it before I went. Somebody asked if we wanted to go out for some fresh air, and I thought maybe a couple of the girls were going to smoke.”
Daisy rubbed her hand across her forehead. She was getting a headache now too. Her temples throbbed.
She slid to the edge of her chair and took Jazzi’s free hand in hers. “All right, so I know what you drank and where you drank. Now tell me why you drank.”
Jazzi set the mug on the nightstand and blinked fast. Daisy could see the tears welling up in her daughter’s eyes. She squeezed Jazzi’s hand again. “Come on, honey, talk to me.”
After she ducked her head, she murmured, “I just felt so bad, Mom. I wanted to disappear. I feel like I caused the trouble in Portia’s marriage. Now I don’t know if I’ll ever see her again. Everything is such a mess. I should have let well enough alone and forgotten about searching for birth parents. Maybe this is my punishment for hurting you.”
Uh-oh. Where did Jazzi pick up that heavy guilt?
Daisy moved onto the bed beside Jazzi and wrapped her arm around her. “Let’s start with the last thing first. You didn’t hurt me, Jazzi. I always knew the day might come when you wanted answers. Sure, I worried about it. I didn’t want to lose the closeness we have. But you didn’t hurt me. Searching after your own happiness can never hurt me.”
Jazzi was openly crying now.
Daisy plucked a tissue from a white wicker holder on the nightstand and handed it to Jazzi. “I’ve also told you before that you did not ruin Portia’s marriage. If anything, her secret did. And if it’s a good marriage, it won’t be ruined. It might be damaged, but she and her husband can mend the rift if they both want to.”
When Jazzi just shook her head, Daisy knew her words weren’t going to fix this.
“And as far as never seeing Portia again—I really can’t imagine that. I can’t imagine that she wouldn’t want to stay in your life. You’re a beautiful, smart, kind young woman. If she doesn’t want you in her life, she’s really missing out.”
“Oh, Mom.” Jazzi laid her head against Daisy’s shoulder and held on to her like she once had when she was a child.
After hugging each other for a good while, Daisy asked, “What would you think about seeing a counselor?”
Jazzi tilted up her head. “You mean a shrink?”
“No, not necessarily a psychiatrist. I can talk to your guidance counselor at school. Mrs. Cotton probably has a list of therapists she recommends. It might do you good to talk to someone about this who isn’t involved. You don’t believe what I tell you because you know I have a stake in it. What affects you affects me. A counselor can look at the situation objectively and help you deal with it.”
Jazzi thought about it. “Would it be like on TV, lying on a couch?”
Daisy chuckled. “I don’t think so. In fact, there are art therapists and play therapists and just plain talk therapists. You express your feelings as if you’re talking to a friend or writing in a journal or drawing for your own benefit.”
“Would you go with me?”
“If the counselor would recommend that, I would.”
After another pause, Jazzi asked, “Can I skip church tomorrow and dinner at Gram’s? I really don’t feel good, and I don’t want Gram looking at me like she does and asking all kinds of questions.”
Daisy wouldn’t mind avoiding those questions herself. “I’ll tell you what. I think it’s important that you get up, shower, dress, and eat something in the morning. We’ll go to church. I’m sure your grandparents will be there, and you can tell them yourself you’re not feeling well. We’ll both stay home tomorrow night.”
Jazzi shot a quick glance to her mom. “Am I grounded?”
In the upcoming weeks Daisy knew Jazzi had practices for the talent show. That show would be good for her, and Daisy didn’t want to prevent her daughter from experiencing it. On the other hand . . . “Let’s just say your activities are going to be curtailed. I’ll approve of them or cut them out one by one for at least the next two weeks. How does that sound?”
Jazzi didn’t answer but hugged Daisy tighter. It was the only answer that Daisy needed.
* * *
On Sunday morning, Daisy took Jazzi to church. Jazzi had looked so pale when she’d come down the stairs that Daisy had thought about letting her stay home. However, a night like last night had consequences. After coaxing her daughter to eat a piece of toast and drink a full glass of water—she knew Jazzi needed to hydrate—she seemed to have a little more color. Daisy had wanted to talk to the moms of the other girls who had been drinking last night. These girls weren’t Jazzi’s close friends, and Daisy suspected that’s why what had happened happened.
Before the service, Daisy spotted Sherry and Olivia who had driven the girls home last night. When she started toward Olivia, Jazzi grabbed her arm. “Mom, you aren’t going to make a scene, are you?”
“No, I’m not. Trust me, Jazzi.”
Jazzi didn’t have much choice but to tag along. When Daisy stopped by Olivia’s side, the twenty-year-old turned a little red. “Hi, Olivia,” Daisy began.
“Mrs. Swanson! How are you?”
“I’m just fine. Jazzi was feeling a little peaked this morning though.”
Jazzi gave her a death stare.
“But I want to thank you for bringing her home safely last night. I just wanted to ask you a question. Did you have anything to drink?”
Olivia lowered her voice and leaned close to Daisy. “I did not. I give you my word. I didn’t know what they were going to do. When I went looking for them to bring them home, there were the empty beer cans and they were tipsy.”
“Were any of the other mothers up when you dropped off their daughters?”
“Not that I know of. The houses were dark except for yours, and I didn’t get any texts or calls that parents were mad or anything. Mrs. Swanson, if something like that happens again, I’ll call you. I promise. Last night I wasn’t sure what to do.”
“Thank you for that, Olivia. Calling parents would be the responsible thing to do. But I do appreciate the care you took bringing Jazzi home.”
Olivia nodded, Daisy smiled, and Jazzi followed her into the church.
Jazzi elbowed her. “She’s never going to talk to me again. Neither is Sherry.”
“Olivia seems sensible. Are you telling me she’s not?”
“Olivia wasn’t drinking. Her boyfriend was there, and they were making out somewhere.”
Daisy rolled her eyes. Of course.
“I’m surprised your usual friends, Stacy and Susan, weren’t there last night.”
“I told them I wasn’t going. I didn’t think I was. And you know what, Mom? They would have walked away from that beer.”
“So you might have walked away from it too,” Daisy pointed out.
“Yeah, I guess, even if I was feeling bad. I suppose the friends I hang with are important.”
“Yes, they are.”
“That’s why you and Tessa still
hang together, right? Because you trust each other?”
“We do. We have a long history.” She and Tessa had attended high school together and had stayed friends even through long distances.
As Jazzi and Daisy sat in a pew, Jazzi leaned her shoulder against Daisy’s. “Gram and Gramps are over there . . . on the right.”
“We’ll talk to them after the service. Are you still sure you don’t want to go to dinner tonight?”
“I’m sure. My stomach’s going to be queasy for a while. I don’t want to have to turn down her food and explain why.”
After the service, Daisy’s mom and dad found them in the back of the church. Rose took one look at Jazzi and said, “My goodness, honey, you look pale. Are you feeling all right?”
Sean put his hand on Jazzi’s shoulder as if that would help her feel better. Rose couldn’t have provided a more appropriate opening. Jazzi kept her eyes a bit downcast but told her grandmother, “I’m not feeling so great. After we go home, I’m probably going to rest for the day.”
Daisy told her mom, “I think we’re going to stay home tonight. I don’t want to leave Jazzi alone. You, Dad, and Aunt Iris can have a quiet dinner together.”
Daisy’s mom wrinkled her nose and patted the curls at the back of her head. “I suppose so. It will be quiet as long as Iris keeps her opinions to herself.”
It would be downright silent if they both did that, Daisy thought.
Daisy wanted to talk to her dad and ask if he’d spoken to her mom about everything he was mulling over. But this wasn’t the place or time to do it.
After walking to the open church door, Daisy, her mom, and her dad shook hands with the minister, told him what a great sermon he’d delivered, and then went out to the parking lot. There Jazzi and Daisy walked her mom and dad to their car.
After hugs all around, her mother said to Jazzi, “Feel better, honey,” then climbed into the car.
Her father put down his window and reminded them, “We love you.”
As Daisy and Jazzi walked to Daisy’s PT Cruiser, Jazzi asked, “Gram and Gramps are happy, aren’t they?”
“Yes, they are. When you think about it, they’re together almost twenty-four hours a day. And they seem to enjoy it.”
“Do you think that’s good for a marriage?” Jazzi asked. “Working together and living together?”
Daisy responded, “I guess that depends on the couple.”
“Would you have been able to work with Dad?”
When Jazzi said the word “dad,” pictures of Ryan floated in front of Daisy’s eyes. “I don’t know if we could have or not. We gave a workshop together once. He spoke about organic products multiplying on grocery shelves, and I talked about healthy diets. But after Vi was born and we adopted you, I stayed home to take care of you. When you went to school and I went back to work, your dad’s work path and mine never crossed again.”
“Do you think Dad would have ever moved back here?”
“I don’t know, honey. I just don’t know. Your dad didn’t like to take risks. Coming back here and starting anew would have been hard for him.”
Ryan had been an only child, and both of his parents were deceased. If Daisy wanted family support, moving back to Willow Creek had been her best choice. Now that her parents were getting older, it made even more sense.
She had no regrets about making Willow Creek her home once more. She did regret that she and Ryan hadn’t had more years together.
* * *
Daisy and her aunt Iris had barely opened the tea garden on Monday when someone came in who Daisy didn’t want to see—Detective Rappaport. He never looked jolly, but this morning he looked downright serious.
Daisy circled their cash counter and met him. “What can I do for you, Detective? A cup of tea and a scone?”
“You know I’m a java man. Nothing for me now. Can I see you in your office?”
Daisy glanced at her aunt Iris, and her aunt gave a nod. Eva and Tessa were in the kitchen, and Cora Sue was setting up the spillover tea room for afternoon tea. Her aunt could take care of the counter.
Once in the office, the detective didn’t waste any time with niceties. He closed the door and faced Daisy. “We have a cause of death.”
“And?” she asked.
“You know those cucumber sandwiches you served with the pimento filling?”
She had a sinking feeling in her stomach. “Yes.”
His gaze was piercing as he announced, “They had more in them than cucumbers and filling.”
“I don’t understand. I made them here myself.”
“Listen to me before you jump to conclusions,” Detective Rappaport advised her. “I don’t conclude anything until I have all the facts. You should be the same way.”
She kept quiet.
“Two drugs were found in Derek Schumacher’s stomach contents as well as in the filling of the sandwiches that we confiscated from the Schumacher house.”
Daisy sucked in a breath, not expecting any of this. “He purchased sandwiches to take along.”
“I know. You and your aunt Iris told me that.”
After Daisy thought about the detective’s news, she repeated, “You said there were drugs. Not poison?”
“No poison. Both drugs are heart medications. Because Derek Schumacher had low blood pressure—we surmised that from his medical records—the drugs dangerously lowered his blood pressure until his heart rate became erratic and he had a seizure. The question now is—who put the pills in the filling?”
Daisy felt her face go pale. “You don’t think I did it?”
Detective Rappaport didn’t directly answer her question. “It either had to be somebody here at the tea garden or someone who had access to Schumacher’s refrigerator. In both cases, a limited number of people had access. I need to speak with each of your employees again and warn them not to leave town.”
“Detective Rappaport, none of my employees had a reason to kill Derek Schumacher.”
The detective’s face was grave. “I don’t know that for certain. I haven’t checked through their backgrounds to see if they crossed his. And I’m sure somebody’s did.”
Daisy thought about Cora Sue.
Apparently, the detective did too. “Cora Sue Bauer is the first one I want to talk to again. I’ll do it one by one in your office. That shouldn’t disrupt your business. Are all of your employees here?”
“Foster has classes this morning and won’t be in until this afternoon.”
“I’ll catch him another time, possibly later today. I’d like you to keep what I told you under your hat, so to speak. I understand Jonas heard a little bit about this from somebody down at the station, but not the final results. If you want to tell him, that’s fine.”
“What about my aunt?”
Detective Rappaport looked toward the ceiling as if he expected help from heaven. “I knew if I told you anything, this would happen.”
Daisy wasn’t going to back down this time. “We run the business together, Detective. She’ll know something’s wrong. My aunt Iris knows me very well.”
“Do you think she can keep a lid on what I told you?”
“Of course, she can. After all, we’ve both been involved in investigations before.”
His sigh could have been heard through the closed office door. “You certainly have, and I don’t want you involved in that way ever again. No civilians should have their life put in danger because of a murder investigation. So, no matter how much you want the tea garden cleared of any suspicion, don’t go asking questions.”
Daisy couldn’t make that promise, and he seemed to see that. “I mean it, Mrs. Swanson. If you interfere, I might have to bring charges against you.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“Don’t try me.” He went to the office door. “I will have to tell the press a few details. The public will know your food was the cause of death.”
“If you let that information go public, it will affect our business.”
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“I’m sorry about that, but I’m hoping letting that much info out will shake things up and the right suspect will surface.” He opened the door. “Send Cora Sue in first.”
Daisy felt something like panic as she started to leave the office.
The detective stopped her with his next words. “By the way, Schumacher’s review of the tea garden sucked . . . except for the cucumber sandwiches.”
When Daisy studied the detective’s face, she noted that his brows were arched. He’d be putting all of them under his magnifying glass.
Chapter Ten
Even after all these years, the high school halls still smelled like wax if not chalk. As Daisy realized everything was about interactive boards now, she heard the clank of one locker and then another on Monday afternoon.
The high school guidance counselor’s office was open. Daisy checked her watch—right on time. She stepped inside. She had to keep her mind on Jazzi now, not on what Detective Rappaport had told her.
Stella Cotton smiled at her and gestured to the vinyl chair in front of her desk. When Daisy sank down onto it, she felt as if she were back in high school again. Stella was probably as old as Daisy’s aunt Iris, in her late fifties. But there, any resemblance ended.
Stella’s hair was coal black, straight, and angled from the back of her nape to her chin. Her eyeliner and mascara were heavy, and her red beads and bangle bracelets were bold. The two-piece suit she was wearing was yellow with red geometrical shapes dancing across it. As Daisy had walked in, she’d noticed the guidance counselor’s red platform sandals. She was a short woman, about five-foot-two, and the chunky heels on the shoes added a few inches to her height.
Daisy in her mauve short-sleeve sweater and slacks felt bland compared to Stella. The guidance counselor had helped Vi make a good college choice in Lehigh University. More than once, Violet had mentioned how Mrs. Cotton was good with the kids and spoke their language.
After Daisy was seated, she dropped her purse to the floor. “Thank you for fitting me into your schedule. I know you’re busy with graduation functions.”
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