Murder with Lemon Tea Cakes

by Karen Rose Smith

  The bartender nodded at her. “A white wine spritzer, please.” The drink would be a good investment.

  When the bartender brought her a glass and sat it in front of her, Daniel looked her way as if he’d just realized somebody was sitting beside him.

  She acted as if she’d just noticed him too. As pretended recognition dawned, she asked, “Aren’t you Daniel Fitz?”

  He responded without smiling in return. “The one and only.”

  “I’m Daisy Swanson. I hosted your father’s party at Daisy’s Tea Garden.”

  Daniel narrowed his eyes at her as if he was trying to remember. “You should have had Jack Daniels in some of those teacups.” He called to the bartender. “Come on, Billy. One more shot.”

  “You’re at your limit,” Billy said firmly. Billy looked to be in his forties, husky and with tattoos down both arms. He wasn’t anybody to mess with.

  “My father’s not around to dictate what I should and shouldn’t do, or what you should or shouldn’t let me do.”

  The bartender just shook his head and walked down to the register at the other end of the bar.

  “I’m so sorry about your father,” Daisy said.

  Daniel gave a shrug. “He and my sister were close. He resented me because I took up for my mother.”

  That had to be the liquor talking. She couldn’t imagine Daniel would willingly give out that information. She wondered how long she could keep him talking and how much she could learn. She took another sip of her drink.

  After she pulled a bill from her handbag, she laid it on the counter. “I liked your dad,” she said. “He was dating my aunt.”

  Daniel swung his gaze to her again and attempted to focus. “That older broad who didn’t have any money,” he said with a nod. “Yeah, I heard about that.”

  Daisy tried not to react to his statement. Then, as nonchalantly as she could, she asked, “Would you like a lift somewhere? Or is somebody picking you up?”

  He gave a humorless laugh. “Nobody’s picking me up. A friend dropped me off, but he left after two drinks.” He looked Daisy up and down and then gave a shrug. “Sure, I’d appreciate a lift. You can take me to my mom’s house. I’ll get dinner there.”

  Right into the viper’s den, Daisy thought. Why not?

  Five minutes later, she showed Daniel to her car. His gait was unsteady, but he was upright and could put one foot in front of the other, so she didn’t offer assistance. At her car, she used the remote to unlock it.

  He looked at the purple PT Cruiser and gave a wry grimace. “Interesting wheels.”

  She guessed he might be used to driving a Maserati or a Porsche. They settled in the car, and he managed to fasten his seat belt. After she backed out of the parking space, she said, “You’ll have to give me directions.”

  “You don’t know where the Fitz mansion is located?”

  “I never had occasion to visit there,” she said reasonably, realizing Daniel’s world mostly revolved around himself.

  He motioned to the east. “Go through town. There’s a development about a mile out called Palladian Arms. It’s one of the biggest houses there.”

  He said that with pride, as if he’d built it himself.

  Although darkness had fallen, streetlights illuminated the shop fronts. The first block of side streets were lit by those lamps too. Instead of taking the direct route, thinking Daniel might not even notice in his inebriated state, she turned right and proceeded to drive down the street where Guy’s coin shop—Loose Change—was located.

  Daniel appeared unaware until she slowed at the light near Loose Change instead of trying to race through the yellow signal. When it turned red, she gave Daniel a glance.

  He stared at the signal right in front of them for a while, then swiveled his focus out the side window. When he saw the coin shop, he said, “My father collected lots and lots of coins. He went into Loose Change a lot.”

  As the light turned green, Daisy lifted her foot from the brake and asked, “What kind of coins did he have?”

  Daniel fluttered his hand through the air. “All kinds—silver, gold, big and little, old and new. All kinds.”

  “Gold ones, huh? There must have been valuable ones there.”

  He turned his hat frontward on his head so the bill was covering his eyes. “Plenty valuable.”

  She waited for more, but he didn’t go on, and she was afraid to push. She didn’t want him to clam up or, even worse, tell her to stop the car so he could get out. It was something that someone in his condition might possibly do.

  Harvey Fitz’s former house, his widow’s house now, was magazine-quality beautiful. Near the Willow Creek Country Club, it sat atop a hill overlooking the eighteenth hole of the golf course. Floodlights and post lamps illuminated the other houses in the area. Along with security systems and Halloween decorations that were done in the utmost good taste, Daisy peered at manicured lawns, precisely trimmed shrubs, and trees that might have seen a few decades worth of growth. Daniel directed her up a drive that led to the house. Parking before the three-car garage, Daisy wondered if Harvey’s almost ex-wife appreciated her surroundings.

  When she switched off the ignition, Daniel just sat there looking out the front windshield. She might have wondered if he’d dozed off, but in the light of the motion detector device on the garage, she could see his eyes were open. He was either spacing out, still dealing with grief, or thinking about something that bothered him greatly. She didn’t know him, so she couldn’t tell.

  “Daniel?” she asked quietly.

  It took him a moment, but then he turned and looked at her. “I guess we’re home,” he said in a resigned voice, and she had the feeling that “home” didn’t mean the same thing to him as it did to her or her children.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “Other than being hammered, you mean? I’m just dandy.” Then he seemed to remember his manners. “But thanks for bringing me here.” With that, he unfastened his seat belt and opened his door.

  Daniel wasn’t quite steady as he walked to the front door and Daisy followed him. The curved path was lined with ornamental grasses, and he stepped off of it twice, but he righted himself again and was soon at the front door, ringing the bell.

  Ringing the doorbell at his own home? At his childhood home?

  As if he’d heard Daisy’s unasked question, he said, “Mother’s vigilant about security. Everybody has to ring the doorbell.” He pointed to a security camera above the door.

  Daisy half-expected a maid to greet them, but Monica herself opened the oak barricade. It was high and wide.

  Daniel said, “Hi, Mother,” and walked past Monica through the foyer.

  Monica was obviously surprised to see Daisy, and recognition dawned in her eyes. “You’re that waitress at the tea garden.”

  “I’m Daisy Swanson,” she reminded Monica. “My aunt and I own the tea garden.” After she let that sink in, Daisy went on to say, “I ran into Daniel, and he needed a ride home.” She didn’t say she found him at Bases. That was up to Daniel to tell his mother.

  “I could smell the alcohol. He’s been drinking.” She motioned Daisy inside as if it were the proper thing to do, though she didn’t look especially happy about it. Daisy didn’t particularly want to make nice with this woman, but if she could find out more about her, she’d do it.

  The inside of the house was as impressive as the outside. Daisy could see into a spacious living room with luxurious draperies, oriental carpets, and furniture pricier than what Jonas sold. There were collectibles like Lladró figurines on one shelf, and what looked like a Waterford crystal vase on another.

  “You have a beautiful home,” Daisy said because it seemed to be in order.

  “Yes, I do. I wasn’t about to give it up because Harvey fancied two separate lives instead of one. Thanks for bringing Daniel home. I don’t know what to do with him right now. He acts as if he doesn’t mind that his father’s dead, but he does.”

 
“Losing a parent is difficult,” Daisy agreed.

  “Losing a husband is too,” Monica said. She checked her watch. “I hate to seem ungrateful, but Candace will be putting dinner on the table in about five minutes.”

  “Of course,” Daisy allowed, knowing she wasn’t about to get anything out of this woman, not without a tug of war or a fight. She wasn’t going to engage in either.

  She’d started to step outside again when Monica called, “You know your aunt was beneath Harvey. He was using her for something. He used everyone.”

  Daisy wondered why Monica wanted to insult her Aunt Iris. To see if Daisy would rise to the bait?

  Before she could, Monica asked, “Wasn’t Iris’s house broken into?”

  It wasn’t a secret that her Aunt Iris’s house had been burglarized. After all, there had been police cars all around it the night it happened. But just how did Monica know when the break-in hadn’t been on the news? Detective Rappaport had tried to keep the event as quiet as he could.

  When Daisy didn’t answer, Monica offered, “You know, Harvey’s killer is still out there. I, of course, have a state-of-the-art security system on my house. Do you?”

  Was that a warning? Could Monica be the murderer? Whether she was or wasn’t, it wouldn’t hurt for her to know the truth.

  “Yes, I have an alarm system on my home. I wouldn’t do without it, not with children in the house. Although my girls are teenagers, I always like to go that special bit further to protect their well-being. Mothers can be tigresses when their children are put into danger, don’t you think?”

  Two could play at the warning game.

  “Yes, they can,” Monica maintained. “Thanks again for bringing my son home.”

  Daisy nodded and then left. Alarm system or not, she wouldn’t leave Jazzi at the barn home alone until this case was solved.

  * * *

  When Daisy entered Men’s Trends the next day over her lunch break, she was surprised by the changes. The store had seen an interior makeover, and she realized instantly why. Harvey’s concept for Men’s Trends had been traditionally classic, expensive, and luxurious. The clothes definitely targeted high-end clients. This makeover spoke to a different man than Harvey’s Men’s Trends had.

  Spotting Bennett near the cashier’s desk, she started that way but couldn’t help but stop by a small boutique section that had been set up. It carried men’s cosmetics, lotions, and hair supplies. When she detoured into the small area, she even found coffee-table-like books of men’s hairdos and styling concepts.

  Was Harvey turning over in his grave at this change?

  The paisley carpet remained the same. The arrangement of the styling racks was much different. Harvey hadn’t been one for placards. Apparently, Bennett was. One announced a new designer section, another unisex fashion. As she studied that advertisement, she recognized the designer’s name from one of the TV fashion shows that Jazzi watched. The designer created sports clothes, mostly knitwear. Either a man or a woman could wear it. This was one way to bring in more business if a man’s wife or girlfriend trailed along. Smart, wasn’t it?

  Bennett watched Daisy approach him and smiled. “What do you think?”

  “I think you’re targeting a younger customer along with the clientele that Harvey built up.”

  “You’re right. I want to make this place as attractive and business savvy as it can be, so that anyone who buys from us will want us to keep going in the same direction. But I don’t want to lose our return customers or the older generation.”

  “You mean like my father.”

  “Exactly.” He waved to the west side of the store. “That section of the store will remain the same—suits, ties, dress shirts, brand names these men trust, custom suits too, of course.”

  She spotted a small placard on the desk—REGISTER FOR YOUR PERSONAL STYLIST. She waved at it. “What’s that all about?”

  “That’s a new trend too—personalized service. I have a friend who’s a stylist and works in New York. He’s actually volunteering his time to get me started in this, and I’ve hired a Web person—a virtual assistant, so to speak—to oversee it all. You know about bridal registries, correct?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Many types of stores have those registries now, including baby stores. Even the chains do. So it’s time we join the fray. Our customers can have a profile page and a wish list, with all the things they might want for Christmas or birthdays or anniversaries. Friends and relatives can just go to their page, then either come into the store or eventually buy online.”

  “Wow, Bennett, you’ve put a lot of thought into this. A lot of time too.”

  “I’ve had these ideas for years, but Harvey would never let me run with them. Now I’m running. We’ve already seen a difference in sales, just with that unisex sportswear collection alone. Back to the stylist—he’ll go over a survey with customers online and then suggest particular clothes within their budget.”

  She pointed to a denim collection. “That’s focusing on late teens to twenty-plus buyers, right?”

  “From jeans and vests to jackets to flannel-lined outerwear. Denim will never go out of style. Just check out that ombre denim.”

  The two of them walked over to the rack, and Daisy paged through, noting the indigo, slate, and almost light blue garments. Some of the jeans bore shredded holes, some didn’t. Some looked worn, some didn’t. Her hand went to an indigo-dyed wool peacoat. When she checked the price tag, she swallowed hard, and she was sure her eyes popped.

  “I’ve sold two of those already,” Bennett said with a smug expression.

  She just shook her head. As she glanced across the store, from that new boutique to the classic section to cashmere sweaters in yellow and mesh bomber jackets, she saw Bennett’s dream of what menswear should be. It was fascinating, really. The store was interesting and eye-catching.

  “I don’t think you have a place for a tea cart.”

  For a moment, he looked nonplussed, then he laughed. “Tell me something, Daisy. How would you make tea relevant for all generations? How could you convince Gen Xers or millennials that brewing tea was just the hottest thing on the planet, pardon the pun.”

  She laughed this time. Then she thought about it. “I’d probably go down your road and personalize what I sell. I’d have a station with a selection of teas, and the customer could mix or match for their particular brew. I’m not sure in practicality just how that would work, but I think it would be possible. I’ve visited sites online that do it.”

  Bennett nodded. “I see your point. You could be the new Starbucks, only for tea.”

  “Possibly,” she agreed. “But I don’t know if younger customers would go for the idea when spring and summer set in. Hot teas are more of a tradition, and I don’t know how many young people are into tradition. Iced teas would be a lot easier to serve. I could set up a tea cart with different flavors already brewed. We could serve cups of iced teas for them to taste.” She was liking the concept more and more.

  “That might not be a bad idea. But I’m also thinking—go with me here, even though you may want to say no at first—brewed teas in urns, just like you serve coffee. They just push the spout and out comes blackberry black tea, or Earl Grey tea, or Darjeeling.”

  “Tea connoisseurs would be scandalized.”

  He shrugged. “Possibly. But come winter, I can see setting up a bar that served hot chocolate and tea.”

  “That’s an interesting concept, Bennett. Let me think about it.”

  “So what can I help you with today? You aren’t buying Christmas presents yet, are you? I have beautiful cashmere sweaters that would make a great gift for your dad, and unisex knitwear your mom might like.”

  She laughed. “You’re the consummate salesman, and I will think about that. I don’t believe my dad ever owned a cashmere sweater. He might possibly enjoy one. No, today I didn’t come to shop. I’d like to know more about Harvey’s son, Daniel.”

  Benne
tt looked thoughtful. “He’s living at home with his mother after his last stint in rehab.”

  Daisy nodded, hoping Bennett would go on. Instead, he asked her, “Why do you want to gather information about Daniel?”

  “To see if there are stronger suspects than my aunt,” she said honestly.

  Bennett shook his head. “I thought that was simply gossip about your aunt. The police don’t seriously consider her a suspect, do they?”

  “They do. We’ve consulted a lawyer because they took her in for questioning more than once.”

  “Your aunt is the sweetest person. She’d never hurt anyone.”

  “I know that, and maybe you know that, but Detective Rappaport doesn’t. Let me ask you: Do you think Daniel is capable of killing?”

  Bennett looked troubled. “Harvey cut Daniel out of his will because he thought it would teach him a lesson. Daniel isn’t responsible, maybe at times not trustworthy, but I don’t believe he could have hurt his father. I’d look in another direction.”

  “What direction?” Daisy asked.

  Bennett hesitated. “Are you familiar with the store next door?”

  “Sporty Digs?”

  “Yes. I guess you can’t help but notice it when you walk or drive down the street.”

  That was certainly true. Sporty Digs had opened up in that location about a year ago. When it did, the storefront had been redone. The marquee that ran across the front was painted garishly in yellow and green. Besides that, there was an orange neon sign that read SPORTY DIGS. The windows were never filled with displays, though there were signs plastered on them with the specials of the week.

  “I don’t know who owns Sporty Digs. I’ve never been inside,” she admitted.

  “Just as well for you,” Bennett said. “The man’s real name is Ron Milkin, but his nickname is Sporty Milkin. Everyone calls him Sporty, hence the name of his store. Sporty and Harvey didn’t get along from the moment Sporty opened his store. Harvey was appalled by the man’s gaucheness, lack of etiquette, and downright plebian taste. Harvey suggested more than once that Sporty at least take down the neon sign. I think Harvey would have just tried to keep the peace, except Sporty would come in here in his camouflage gear and high-topped boots and recommend that Harvey’s store patrons stop on over to his store. The last time that happened was about a month ago. Harvey ran the man out himself and told Sporty if he didn’t get his boots off of Men’s Trends’ carpet, Harvey would take his revolver out of the safe and use it.”