Murder with Lemon Tea Cakes

by Karen Rose Smith

  He nodded again. “They’re great. They’d go with coffee at breakfast.”

  Daisy shook her head. “Add yogurt and you might get a bit of health benefit out of that.”

  He screwed up his face at the idea of yogurt. “Sugar and caffeine. That’s what keeps me going.”

  Until it doesn’t, Daisy thought. “What are you doing here?” she asked bluntly.

  He didn’t respond to her bluntness. Instead, he glanced toward Iris.

  “Are you keeping an eye on my aunt and following her around?”

  He met her gaze. “Harvey Fitz’s killer could still think Miss Albright has something he or she wants.”

  “So my aunt isn’t your number one suspect anymore?”

  “No comment on that.”

  Daisy didn’t like the idea that her aunt could be in danger. Could she really be in harm’s way?

  Before she had time to consider that, and what to do about it, a friend of her aunt’s came over to Daisy and Detective Rappaport. Aggie Weiss greeted Daisy and then said, “It’s good to see you again, Morris. Are you looking for a tree to plant?”

  So Morris was Detective Rappaport’s first name. Everyone knew that Aggie got around, and she seemed to know everything there was to know about everybody.

  “I might be looking for a fast-growing tree to take the place of one I had to have cut down after last winter.”

  “A shade tree?” Daisy asked.

  “Yes, that would keep the house cooler.”

  “Silver maples grow fast and give good shade. That would be one to consider.” If he really was considering buying a tree.

  Aggie turned to Daisy then. “I heard something about you.”

  “You did?”

  Aggie made it sound as if what she’d heard was scandalous. Daisy hadn’t done anything scandalous in a very long time.

  Aggie went on. “I heard you were seen at Bases talking to Harvey Fitz’s son. Since when do you frequent a sports bar?”

  Of all times for Aggie to bring that up . . . when Detective Rappaport was all ears. Not only all ears, but one big scowl too.

  Daisy could feel her face flushing, and she wished she could stuff Aggie into one of the compost barrels that were for sale right outside. Thinking quickly and wanting to get Aggie off the subject, she replied, “I had an errand at Bases, and sometimes a person needs something stronger than tea.”

  Aggie looked shocked at that summation, made an excuse about having to get back home, and then rushed over to talk to Iris again. Daisy could only imagine that conversation. She hadn’t told anyone but Marshall that she had talked to Daniel. That had seemed best.

  After Aggie had scurried away, Rappaport asked Daisy, “What do you think you’re doing?”

  She kept her voice low. “I wanted to know if Daniel had a motive, or if he was the type of person who could commit murder. I’m just trying to protect my aunt by getting to the bottom of it.”

  “That is not your job.”

  “Protecting my aunt is.”

  “If you want to protect her, hire her a bodyguard. Do not get involved in this investigation, or I could file charges against you. I’m warning you, Mrs. Swanson. Stay away from anyone associated with Harvey Fitz.”

  Just then one of the customers, a woman who looked to be in her fifties, came up to Daisy and said, “I hear you’re brewing blueberry pineapple tea.”

  “I am. It has a Rooibos base. I’d be glad to steep you a cup. Come on. I think we have mini blueberry muffins left to go with it. Are you interested?”

  “I certainly am. This is a wonderful idea, you being here. Do you do this often?”

  “A few times a year, usually with the change of seasons.”

  “It’s a very inventive thing to do. It makes everyone more sociable and happy, and to tell you the truth, I’m going to buy my tree here because of it.”

  “What kind of tree do you want to buy?”

  “I think an Alaskan cedar. I love the way their branches are weepy, and the pine needles are lacelike.”

  “I have several of those on my property, and you’re right, they’re very beautiful. Let’s find you tea and a muffin, then I’ll direct you to my mom, and she can show you the selection of Alaskan cedars that she has on the lot.”

  “A wonderful idea.”

  But as she did just that, she spotted Detective Rappaport’s gaze on her, watching her closely. She really should watch her step or she could be in more trouble than she wanted to handle.

  * * *

  “Mom,” Violet called from upstairs Saturday evening. “There’s a police car in the driveway and somebody else too.”

  Daisy had been pulling ground beef, tomatoes, lettuce, and tortillas out of the refrigerator to make tacos. But at Vi’s words, she hurriedly rushed to the front door and opened it.

  To her total astonishment, Detective Rappaport stood there with her Aunt Iris. Oh my gosh, had he arrested her? Her brain finally kicked into gear. If he’d arrested her, he wouldn’t have brought her here. What had happened?

  As the detective and her aunt stepped inside, Jazzi and Vi ran down the steps, Marjoram and Pepper at their heels, and waited expectantly to find out what was going on.

  Detective Rappaport gingerly held Iris’s elbow as he helped her to the sofa, and she sat heavily on it. Used to Iris, maybe sensing she was in distress, Marjoram and Pepper hopped onto the sofa, Marjoram on the back and Pepper on Iris’s lap.

  Daisy couldn’t wait for an explanation any longer. “What happened?” She sat down next to her aunt but looked up at Detective Rappaport, while Jazzi and Vi stood beside the sofa watching and waiting.

  The detective’s voice was brisk as he related what had happened. “Your aunt thought she was being followed. I’d given her my cell number, and she called me. I happened to be in the vicinity. I sent a patrol officer to meet her at a convenience store. I met up with her there, and now here we are. I drove in front of her, and the patrol car stayed in back of her until we got here.”

  “I’m sorry to bring this to you, Daisy,” her aunt said, her voice cracking a bit. “But I didn’t know where else to go.”

  “We weren’t followed here,” Rappaport said. “We made sure of that. I’m still not sure your aunt was followed.”

  Daisy patted her aunt’s hand. “Tell me what happened.”

  Rappaport impatiently crossed his arms over his chest.

  Her aunt stroked Pepper’s shiny, blue-black fur. “You left your mom’s nursery before me. I followed you out, but then I turned onto Pine Street, and you headed home.” Iris paused a moment. “These two headlights were in back of me. At least, that’s how I thought of them. It was a dark car. It had those headlights that are almost bright white.”

  Daisy nodded that she understood what her aunt was telling her. Pepper gave a soft meow as if she understood too.

  Iris continued, “He . . . or she . . . was tailgating me a little too close, so I sped up. But whoever was in the car sped up too. I decided to experiment a little, so I turned right, and the car turned right. Then I turned left, and the other car turned left. That’s when I got worried. I really didn’t know what to do. Detective Rappaport had given me his number, so I called him.”

  “Were there any security cameras on her route that you could check?” Daisy asked the detective.

  “Willow Creek doesn’t have the money for security cameras, Mrs. Swanson. Sure, we have speed traps, but that’s not the same.”

  “What happened when you turned in at the convenience store?” Daisy asked her aunt.

  “The car went around the block. I hurried inside the store, but I saw those same white headlights come around again and then again until the patrol car got there. Then I didn’t see them anymore.”

  Daisy looked up at Rappaport. “And you think she’s making this up? Someone ransacked her house, and someone definitely killed Harvey Fitz.”

  “I’m mindful of that every minute of every day.” He let out a sigh and uncrossed his
arms. “No one knows that we have that coin. Someone could still think your aunt has it, maybe on her person, maybe in her car, maybe in her house.”

  “Then maybe you should put out the word that the police have it.”

  Rappaport shook his head. “Not yet.”

  “And what’s my aunt supposed to do in the meantime? She could be in danger.”

  “As long as she’s with you, or with a group of people, she should be fine. I suggest that for the next week or so she not drive herself anywhere alone. We are closing in on suspects.”

  “But she’s still one of them.”

  Again, he sighed. “I can’t discuss the investigation, you know that. So just take my advice. If she stays here with you, she can go back and forth to work every day with you.”

  Iris looked at Daisy. “I don’t want to impose, and with Vi here, you don’t have room—”

  “I always have room. The sofa opens up into a bed. I can sleep out here, and you can have my room. It’s fine, Aunt Iris.”

  “But my clothes—”

  Rappaport just rolled his eyes. “Women.”

  Now Vi stepped in. “Detective, don’t tell me you don’t care if you have a clean shirt to wear the next day.”

  The detective studied Violet. “I suppose you’re the daughter who’s in college?”

  Daisy quickly introduced them.

  After a nod, the detective said, “The patrol car’s out in your driveway. I’ve got to let him go, and I’ve got to go. No point putting in more overtime for either of us.” He studied Daisy. “Keep your alarm on whether you’re here or not, and don’t take any chances. Enjoy your time with your daughters, and no more visits to Bases.”

  “Are you ordering me around?” Daisy asked, having had enough of his attitude.

  “I’m not ordering you. I’m making strong recommendations. If I were you, I would take them.” He headed toward the door, opened it, and left.

  “Isn’t he a sweetheart?” Violet asked sarcastically.

  Now Jazzi came around the sofa and sat with her aunt too. “Mom says he’s just doing his job, Vi. The problem is—I don’t know if he knows how to do it. Willow Creek hasn’t seen many murders or investigations of any kind.”

  “He’s right about one thing, though,” Daisy said. “Let me switch on the alarm before we do anything else. Then I’ll put supper together.”

  “We’ll all help,” Vi said.

  Jazzi asked Iris, “Are you okay? You look a little pale.”

  “I’m fine. But, Daisy, do you have any spirits. A swig or two of wine might help.”

  “I bought white wine for that chicken recipe I make. I might still have some in the refrigerator. Come on, let’s go to the kitchen, and I’ll check.”

  Pepper protested when Iris stood but soon circled and kneaded the middle sofa cushion where she sat under Marjoram’s watchful golden eyes.

  Once in the kitchen, they all took a job. Aunt Iris insisted on browning the ground beef. Vi and Jazzi chopped up vegetables to layer in their tacos. Daisy peeled pears, placed them in a baking dish with a small amount of water, added butter and cinnamon, and slipped them into the oven to poach.

  Jazzi said, “Speaking of investigations, Mom, has Jonas said anything about what he’s found about my birth parents?”

  Iris’s eyes targeted Daisy. “How do you really feel about Jazzi doing this?”

  “I’ll be honest,” she said to Iris. “I didn’t know how I felt about it at the beginning. But if it’s what Jazzi wants, then I’m all for it. I’m still her mom, whether she finds her birth mother or not. Nothing will ever change that.” She turned to Jazzi. “Jonas hasn’t said anything more yet, but I’m sure he will as soon as he connects with the lawyer’s secretary. You’ve got to realize searching takes time.”

  Jazzi looked disappointed, but she seemed to understand. Waiting was difficult for everyone.

  Daisy had set up a buffet line to assemble their tacos. Then they took their dishes to the table.

  After eating in silence for a few minutes, Daisy asked Vi, “Did you pack up warmer clothes to take back to school?”

  Violet finished a bite of her taco. “I did. I’m glad I came home this weekend. I was homesick, and I couldn’t wait until Thanksgiving to see you. I miss Jazzi, and I miss you, and I miss the cats. Oh, and I miss you too, Aunt Iris.”

  Daisy realized part of her little girl was still with her, even though Vi was becoming an accomplished, grown-up woman.

  Jazzi elbowed her sister. “You might be missing Foster when you’re back at school.”

  Vi ducked her head and mumbled, “Don’t be silly.”

  Daisy glanced at Jazzi. “Missing Foster?”

  “They talked every chance they could when customers weren’t keeping us busy.”

  Violet’s gaze met Daisy’s. Her daughter looked hesitant for a moment, then asked, “So what do you really think about Foster?”

  Iris answered immediately. “He’s a personable young man and a fine worker. Is Jazzi right? Might you miss him when you return to Lehigh?” In spite of what had happened tonight, there was a twinkle in Iris’s eye.

  Violet seemed a bit flustered when she answered, “He’s great. We have a lot in common. Maybe, just maybe, I’ll come home more often and help you out at the tea garden.”

  “Help me out at the tea garden, or hope he asks you out on a date?” Daisy teased.

  “Don’t you like any of the boys at college?” Jazzi asked her sister.

  “There are a lot who are there to join fraternities and have frat parties. They don’t seem as serious-minded as Foster is. Besides, when I’ve talked to them, I haven’t felt ‘it’.”

  “It?” Jazzi asked innocently.

  “Yeah. That special something that makes you want to spend more time with a person.”

  “Mom went on a date,” Jazzi informed Vi.

  “She did? With who?”

  “Cade Bankert,” her sister answered.

  “Girls, I’m right here,” Daisy reminded them in a singsong voice.

  “He’s that real estate agent,” Vi said, remembering their house hunt.

  “And she went to school with him,” Jazzi reminded her sister.

  “That’s right. You told us he took you to your prom,” Vi said with a smile, then swiped her mouth with a napkin to clean off remnants of taco sauce.

  “We had dinner out. That’s all,” Daisy murmured.

  “I think she really likes Jonas Groft,” Jazzi said. “The man who owns Woods. The one who’s helping me find my birth parents.”

  “The tea garden and the two of you keep me busy enough. I don’t need to date or to get serious about anyone,” Daisy informed them all.

  Now Iris included her two cents. “Don’t you think it’s time you date? Especially if the girls don’t object. You need a life, Daisy. I thought I was finally going to find one with Harvey. Loving him put excitement in my days and gave me something to look forward to. You need that too.”

  All was quiet for a few moments until Violet said, “Aunt Iris, I forgot to tell you. Someone named Marshall Thompson came in and asked for you. He seemed disappointed when you weren’t there.”

  Iris looked startled, and then she just waved her hand in front of her face. “Oh, he’s a lawyer.”

  “Lawyer?” Violet asked.

  “He’s the lawyer we consulted when the police wanted to question us,” Daisy explained. “Jonas advised us that would be a good idea and recommended Marshall.”

  “I see,” said Violet. “But I don’t think he was there to do anything lawyerly. He had a cup of tea and a scone, and then said to tell you he’d be in touch.”

  Daisy wondered if Marshall wanted to discuss the Harvey Fitz case or if he was interested in her aunt. Even if he was, Daisy knew it would take a long while for her aunt to get over Harvey.

  * * *

  Daisy worried about her aunt the next morning as she and Iris, Jazzi, and Vi went to church. Usually, Iris worked at the te
a garden when Daisy didn’t. But last night, she’d called Foster to take Iris’s place, and he’d been able to work an all-day shift. Driving to church, Daisy made sure they weren’t being followed, checking her rearview mirror often. Vi and Jazzi did too. They were determined to keep her aunt safe.

  At church, though, Daisy found her mom and dad. They learned what had happened with Iris the evening before and said they’d take her to her house to gather up some clothes. She could stay with them for the afternoon. Soon they would be starting holiday hours and have little time to visit with her since the nursery would be open on Sundays. They would make sure no harm came to her. Daisy could pick her up later that evening, and they could all have dinner together. With Violet home, it would be a family time.

  It seemed like a good plan, so Daisy agreed.

  Back at home once again with Vi and Jazzi, Daisy suddenly knew how she wanted to spend the day with her daughters. “Why don’t we pack a picnic lunch, take our backpacks, and go for a hike? It’s been a long time since we’ve done that.”

  Vi teased, “Are you saying you don’t get enough exercise?”

  “I don’t unless I walk around town.”

  “And visiting Woods isn’t quite enough of a walk,” Jazzi kidded.

  “Hey, you two. Stop playing matchmakers. Let’s get those sandwiches made.”

  While Jazzi and Vi worked on the sandwiches, Daisy put more kibble in Pepper and Marjoram’s dishes. Marjoram playfully tapped Daisy’s ankle with her paw in a thank-you, and Pepper meowed hers.

  A half hour later, they’d taken a trail through a neighbor’s farmland. The trees were turning now. Yellow, russet, orange, and shades of brown formed a canopy above them as they walked through maples, sycamores, elms, and birches. They didn’t talk much, just enjoyed the beautiful Indian summer day. Rustling leaves as they walked, they stepped over fallen logs, tripped now and then over a protruding root or a rock, laughed, and caught each other’s arms. Daisy realized how much she appreciated this day and having her girls with her.

  They emerged from the woods near an old covered bridge where a stream burbled underneath. They were about a quarter mile from the Covered Bridge Inn, the ritziest place to stay and have dinner in the area. A gravel lane led to and from the covered bridge, and they heard the clump, clump, clump of a horse’s hooves. Soon an Amish gray-topped buggy came along, clamored through the covered bridge, and continued down the lane to a farm over the hill. There was something about the horse-drawn carriages of the Amish that spoke of a slower pace of life and an earlier time where the things that mattered in life were always in the forefront.