Murder with Lemon Tea Cakes

by Karen Rose Smith

  “Yes, it is. I’ll speak with her before I leave and reassure her that Harvey’s feelings must have been genuine. She deserves to think that.”

  Each time Daisy had dealings with Marshall, she realized he was a kind man. She liked that. “You said you had information for us. What is it?”

  “You’ve met Guy Tremont?”

  “Yes, I have.”

  “Apparently he’s been under suspicion for running shady auctions or . . . keeping valuable items out of an appraisal to keep assets hidden. It’s quite possible he knew all about what Harvey had given Iris to hold for him. And if he did know, then Guy is a viable suspect too. You can think about him in two ways. Maybe he’s not the murderer. But if he knew about that coin, a million dollars is a lot of money to overlook. He could have easily broken into your aunt’s to try to find it. On the other hand, if he and Harvey had some kind of falling out, he could have had a motive for the murder.”

  “Rappaport told me I can’t tell anyone about the coin except for Jonas. Rappaport seems to trust him.”

  “Jonas does know how to keep his mouth shut, and Rappaport understands that. It’s essential that word about the coin not get out.”

  “I understand that. It’s just hard for me not to talk about it with people I’m close to. When we talk about the investigation . . .” She trailed off.

  “When you talk about the investigation, you leave out the coin. You pretend that night didn’t exist. It’s as simple as that.”

  That night never existed. She’d have to remember Marshall’s words when she had dinner with Cade tonight.

  Chapter Eighteen

  When Cade picked up Daisy for dinner on Thursday evening, she’d wrapped a silver-flecked shawl around the shoulders of her black dress—she and Tessa had decided the shawl would look better than a scarf—and got into his car. But the atmosphere was odd. It was almost as if they were strangers instead of old friends from high school.

  New relationship, new vibes?

  On the drive, they began talking, and the atmosphere changed from awkward to more comfortable. Cade’s profession as a real estate agent took him to interesting places, and he spoke with a wide range of people. In no time at all, they were pulling into the parking lot of the Red Derby in the east end of York.

  Daisy didn’t wait for him to come around the car but climbed out on her own, and they walked to the front entrance. The maître d’ checked his reservation sheet, then showed them to a table for two along the side of the restaurant near the windows. The white tablecloth was pristine. A bud vase on the table held real mums. It was a classy place.

  That was emphasized again when the waiter brought an extensive wine list. Cade chose one without consulting her, and then they turned to their tall leather-bound menus. Daisy studied the selections and couldn’t help but notice the inflated prices. She was tempted to tell Cade she was a potpie and shoofly pie kind of girl, but he seemed comfortable here, as if he did this often.

  Cade said, “This would be a great place to wine and dine clients. I’m glad we came.”

  So he could get a look at the restaurant? Or because he wanted to be with her?

  Their knees didn’t touch under the table, and she didn’t know if she was sorry or relieved. She chose a chicken marsala entrée, while Cade ordered a rib-eye steak. After the waiter had taken their orders, Cade said, “I understand you’re looking to hire more help at the tea garden.”

  “I am. Do you know anybody who’s interested—who’s responsible, honest, and likes tea?”

  He laughed. “Not offhand. But I’ll keep my eyes out and my ears open. Are you looking for someone full-time?”

  “I’m not sure yet. Maybe part-time at first. Part-timers are more economical for me than full-timers with benefit packages.”

  “Can your business sustain another salary?”

  Cade was a numbers person. She’d found that out when they were looking for houses for her and for the business. So she didn’t find his question intrusive.

  “With the increase in business, we certainly can. I’m hoping they’ll all be repeat customers, not just curiosity seekers who try what we have because Harvey was murdered there.”

  Cade’s expression was uncertain for a few moments, and that was unusual. So she waited for him to resume the conversation.

  “I’m sorry about my attitude last night . . . if you felt I was trying to tell you what to do,” he apologized. “I only want the best for you.”

  “I know you do. I’m just asking questions to see if I can get Aunt Iris off the hook. Detective Rappaport seems to want to pin this on her!”

  “What have you come up with?”

  “So far only the obvious suspects. I suppose Harvey’s wife is the main one. Can you see her wielding something and conking him?”

  Cade shrugged. “I heard she barged in on his twenty-fifth anniversary celebration at your tea garden and created quite a stir. If she could do that, she might have enough venom to have socked him.” After a brief, pensive silence, Cade said, “I suppose no one wants to think about it, but Harvey Fitz’s children could be suspects too, especially Daniel. He has a temper and feels entitled. Cut out of the will, he could have been angry enough to get into a fight with his dad.”

  “Whoever did it would have to have known Harvey was going to meet Aunt Iris at the tea garden, or else they would have had to follow him there.”

  “So you believe it was someone he knew?”

  “Most likely. I don’t think this was random; it wasn’t a mugging gone wrong. There was an employee he let go because she was flirting with customers. I suppose he could have enemies because of his business dealings. The police have their work cut out for them.”

  “So you aren’t really trying to solve this?”

  “Just get some questions answered.”

  “Why do you think Iris’s house was broken into?”

  She decided to be honest with him. “I do know some facts that Detective Rappaport wants to keep under wraps. I’m not supposed to say anything.”

  Cade cocked his head and studied her. Then he nodded. “Fair enough. A murder investigation isn’t something to tamper with.”

  Was that another subtle warning? If it was, they didn’t dwell on it, but rather changed the topic of conversation to the upcoming activities in Willow Creek for the holidays.

  They rounded out their meal with coffee and crème brûlée. As Cade drove Daisy home, their conversation came and went comfortably.

  At her house, he walked her to her door.

  “Would you like to come in?” she asked.

  He hesitated for a few moments, but then he shook his head. “I have showings in the morning and need to go over the stats. Besides . . . I think we should go slowly. We both have pasts to put behind us.”

  Just what was Cade’s romantic past? Daisy knew he was right about venturing into new territory slowly. But she felt faintly disappointed as he drove away.

  * * *

  On Friday afternoon, Daisy took advantage of a lull in customers to spend her lunch break exploring Sporty Digs. Every once in a while, as she had poured tea for her morning patrons, she had considered her date last night with Cade. There hadn’t been anything romantic about it really. So had it been a date?

  Deciding her break time would be better served answering a few questions about Sporty Milkin’s supposed feud with Harvey, she walked quickly to Men’s Trends and passed by it.

  She didn’t know what to expect when she entered Sporty Digs. It looked like a Halloween decoration explosion outside the store, with a skeleton, a fake spider crawling on the marquee, and orange twinkle lights bordering the inside of the windows. Daisy could see why the owner’s approach to business promotion didn’t fit in with Harvey Fitz’s idea of decorum.

  Inside the store, she found a discount warehouse kind of atmosphere. There were racks stuffed with hunter’s jackets, shelves clogged with hiking boots and galoshes, cubbies stuffed with T-shirts and bill caps. Peering
into the back of the store, which was darker, she spotted rifles lined up on the wall. A chill ran down her spine. This wasn’t her kind of place, and she could see why it hadn’t been Harvey’s.

  A tall, lean man with lank, brown hair combed over his balding pate stood at one of the glass-covered counters peering into the case filled with knives. Just because those knives were fashioned with beautiful elk-antler handles or enameled cases, didn’t make her like them any better. He was dressed in a camouflage T-shirt and cargo pants. After a deep breath, she approached him with a smile, her cover story intact.

  “Looking for something in particular?” the man asked her, without meeting her gaze.

  “I am,” she assured him. “An outerwear jacket for my dad. I’m Christmas shopping early. He owns a nursery, so I want something durable that will withstand the weather. It would be helpful if it’s washable too because when he’s carrying trees around he often gets his jackets dirty.”

  Whether her specifics warmed the man up, or whether he could see a sale in his future, he gave her a small smile. “I’m sure we can help you with that. Just come over here.” He motioned her toward a rack of weather-proof jackets.

  Daisy shuffled through them, pushing the hangers closer together on the rack. Some jackets were lined with flannel, some with fleece. She took a price tag in her hand and checked it out.

  “These are reasonable,” she said.

  “I try to keep my prices competitive.”

  “I looked at a jacket in the store next door—Men’s Trends. The price would pay my groceries for a month.”

  The man actually winked at her. “Awful, ain’t they?” He scowled. “Harvey Fitz thought he knew best for everyone. He didn’t.”

  “You knew the man who was murdered?”

  “Couldn’t help but know him. I had to deal with him, both of us being business owners and all.”

  “And members of the Chamber of Commerce, I suppose.”

  Sporty snorted. “That’s a laugh. They only want people there who think the same as everybody else.”

  “Don’t they have to take each business owner’s opinion into account?”

  “Maybe they should, but they don’t. Fitz tried to cut me out more than once.”

  “Cut you out?”

  “Yeah. Special promotions. Goings-on I should know about. He was a bigwig in the chamber, so he often controlled the list of the names of people who should get notices, e-mails, that kind of thing.”

  “I see,” she said, understanding now what Bennett had mentioned as far as this man being Harvey’s enemy.

  “But surely you could find out information from other store owners,” she prompted.

  “Yeah, I could. So Fitz was more of a nuisance than anything. Until . . .” He stopped abruptly.

  Daisy didn’t want to seem too interested, so she pulled out a navy blue jacket that her father just might appreciate for a Christmas present. It was a large, his size, and the garment was roomy enough that he could move easily in it when he was lifting, carrying, or simply managing.

  She said to Sporty, “I’ll take this,” and went over to the counter with it.

  He came around the other side and rang up the sale. As she pulled a credit card from her purse and handed it to him, she said, “So Harvey Fitz did more than keep information from you?”

  “He was planning to,” Sporty mumbled. Then, as if he wanted to unburden himself, he went on, “He was trying to get me out of here.”

  “But you have a lease, don’t you?”

  “Sure do. The thing was, he was trying to convince the owner of this property to sell it to him. Then the lease wouldn’t apply anymore and he could kick me out. Nasty business.”

  Yes, it was a nasty business.

  Nasty enough to be a motivation for murder?

  * * *

  Daisy had just kneaded dough for cinnamon bread late Saturday morning when she heard a voice she recognized coming from the tea garden’s general serving area. It was Violet! And she was talking animatedly with Foster at the sales counter.

  Daisy quickly washed her hands and rushed right over to give Vi a hug. Then with her hands on her daughter’s shoulders, Daisy studied her intently. Vi had gotten her hair cut into a swingy style that curved around her face. It looked as if she’d had her light-brown hair highlighted too. She was pretty and looked well.

  “This is a surprise. What are you doing here?” She had resigned herself to the fact that she wouldn’t see Vi until Thanksgiving because her activities at college were going so well.

  “I was homesick. And I was worried about all of you,” Vi answered. “Jazzi called me last night to tell me she’s searching for her birth parents. Are you on board with that?”

  Reflexively, Daisy checked both tea rooms and saw that everyone was taken care of. “Come in to my office with me, and we can chat.”

  Violet might be concerned about her family, but she was giving Foster a look as if she wanted to stay and talk to him. Hmmm. Then again, maybe Daisy was seeing something that wasn’t there because her daughter responded, “A chat sounds good.”

  On the way to her office, Daisy snagged a few chocolate chip cookies from a cooling rack in the kitchen. Once she and Vi were seated, Daisy asked her, “Is everything okay at school?”

  “Everything’s fine. I just came home to pick up warmer clothes and check in with you.”

  “You know we’re fine here, too.”

  “A murder in the tea garden, Mom? How did that happen?”

  “The way any murder happens, I guess. Willow Creek is quiet, but not immune to crime.”

  “You’ve hired extra help, I see.” Vi glanced out the glass partition to where Foster stood.

  “The police are working on solving this crime. And business has been good.”

  “Because of the murder?” Vi looked horrified.

  “Possibly,” Daisy admitted. “But I’m hoping that everyone who tastes what we have to offer will come back. It seems they are doing just that. We even had a food critic come in for afternoon sit-down tea service. I haven’t seen his review yet. I certainly hope he warns us before he publishes it.” Or, she added to herself, hopefully Trevor would let her know what was in the review.

  “A food critic. Not a tea critic?”

  “I’m not sure,” Daisy answered truthfully. Not dwelling on that, she informed Vi, “We have a busy day today. I’m serving tea and cookies at your grandparents’ nursery this afternoon. They’re having their fall sale, and it seemed like a good idea. Do you want to come along?”

  Vi looked toward the other room. “Will Foster be helping?”

  “No, he’ll be staying here with Tessa and Cora Sue this afternoon. Aunt Iris will be with me at the nursery. I think she needs to get away from the tea garden now and then. I am worried about her. She was in love with Harvey, and his death has hit her hard.”

  “Jazzi told me the police have questioned her more than once.”

  “They have, and that’s worrisome. We’ve consulted with a lawyer.”

  “I can help here this afternoon. I can see Gram and Gramps tomorrow.” She looked in Foster’s direction.

  “How long are you staying?”

  “I don’t have classes on Monday, so I don’t have to go back until late Monday evening or Tuesday morning. That will give us all time to talk. I can help out here all day Monday if you need me. Foster said he’s here in the afternoon.”

  Vi had a whole college campus full of guys to choose from, yet it seemed Foster had caught her eye. That was the way it went sometimes. Not that Daisy wanted to question her daughter’s willingness to help her, but she suspected Violet’s eagerness to serve tea had more to do with Foster than scones and Darjeeling.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Daisy had set up her tea cart at Gallagher’s Garden Corner near the front entrance of the building, where her parents and staff had arranged houseplants, garden statues, planters, pots, and seasonal gifts. Her tea cart for this display was an old fl
ower cart that she’d found at a secondhand shop. Once used to sell flowers along the road, it was cute, with three shelves, wheels, and a canopy. She’d had it refurbished, of course, painting it yellow and having the canopy redone in a flowered vinyl. For an event like this, it was perfect.

  She’d set up a table nearby covered with a pale pink cloth for the electric urns for tea water, the teapots and cups with saucers. Iris mingled with customers, directing them to the tea cart. Daisy was glad to see many of her regulars from the tea garden buying colorful arrangements for the fall, along with glazed pots with mums and decorative plant stakes similar to those she had arranged on the tea garden’s front porch. Other customers were considering fire pits, which were popular this time of year in Pennsylvania, and purchasing trees from the nursery outside to plant before winter set in. Her mom and dad were busy with customers, and one of their assistants manned the cashier’s desk. The place was hopping, and Daisy was glad about that for herself, for the free publicity, and for Gallagher’s Garden Corner. She was also happy Iris was mingling and away from the site of Harvey’s murder. Daisy had broached the subject of her aunt seeing a counselor, but Iris had pooh-poohed the idea. She’d wait and see how her aunt reacted over the next week or so before she brought it up again.

  Daisy had carried in trays of cookies and scones and stored them in the nursery’s office so she could just bring out what she needed when she needed it. The same way with her cans of tea. She’d made a trip to the office and was carrying a tray of petite cinnamon scones and chocolate butter wafers to a group of customers when she spotted Detective Rappaport. She wasn’t going to ignore him. He’d say she had something to hide if she did. Instead, when she finished making the rounds of the group in her corner, she went straight to him.

  “How about a cookie, Detective?” She motioned to the tea cart. “You might try a cup of tea too.”

  He eyed the cookies and then actually took one of the chocolate wafers. After a bite, he nodded. “Did you make these?”

  “My assistant, Tessa, made those. Do you like them?”