Murder with Cinnamon Scones

by Karen Rose Smith

  Daisy smiled at Mary’s practical advice and took it from her pocket. As her phone played again, she saw Tessa’s picture on the screen. “It’s Tessa,” she murmured. “Maybe I should take this.”

  She stood and, out of respect for the family and their beliefs, she walked out to the mudroom. She still had reception there. “Tessa, hi. What is it? I’m at Rachel’s.”

  “Daisy, you won’t believe what’s happened. I don’t know what to do.”

  “What’s happened?”

  Daisy could hear Tessa crying now. Actually sobbing.

  “Tessa, take a deep breath. What’s wrong?”

  Somehow Tessa managed to say shakily, “A body was found in the woods near the covered bridge. Reese was murdered.”

  Chapter Four

  “Are you all right?” Daisy asked.

  “I don’t know,” Tessa mumbled. “I’m at the police station.”

  “At the police station? Why?”

  “Because Detective Rappaport asked me to come down here. He has loads of questions. We’re taking a break.”

  Daisy wondered if Tessa should be talking to a lawyer instead of to her. “How can I help?”

  “You can’t. I think he’s almost done with me. He went to get us something to drink.”

  “Do you want me to come down there?”

  “No, I don’t want you involved. Besides, as soon as he lets me go and I go home, I’m crashing. I’m going to have a glass of wine or two and go to bed. I don’t even want to think.”

  Her friend might not want to think, but she had to, or she could become a suspect. It sounded as if she already might be.

  “Tell me what happened,” Daisy prompted.

  “I was supposed to meet Reese at his place but he never showed up. I was mad so I left and came home. But then Detective Rappaport came to my door and asked me to go to the police station with him.”

  “He couldn’t talk to you at your apartment?”

  “He recorded our interview. I guess he didn’t want to do that there.”

  “Why did he come to you?”

  “Apparently, they’d gotten a warrant to search Reese’s place and the gallery, and they found my things there.”

  Daisy didn’t want to make things worse for Tessa, but she asked, “When did they find Reese?”

  “Apparently, they found him this morning . . . or rather someone from the bed-and-breakfast did. I guess they didn’t find anybody else’s things but mine in his apartment.”

  “Did you really expect them to?”

  “I don’t know. Chloie has this way about her that makes it sound as if she and Reese have a tight relationship.”

  “But that doesn’t mean they’ve been intimate, and you’ve never seen any signs of it. If the police didn’t find anything there—”

  “Or Chloie could have cleaned up Reese’s apartment really well,” Tessa said with a sigh in her voice. “I guess it doesn’t matter now. I just don’t want them to blame me for what happened to Reese. I loved him.”

  “Do the questions Detective Rappaport is asking sound as if he’s blaming you?”

  “I don’t know. He wants to know everything—like what nights I stayed there, how many nights I’ve stayed there, when we started dating, do I know anybody who would hurt him. No, I don’t know anybody who’d hurt him. This is Reese, for goodness’ sake. He gets along with everybody.”

  “You should call Marshall Thompson.” Marshall was a criminal defense attorney who had helped Daisy and her aunt stay out of trouble when the murder had occurred at the tea garden.

  “I don’t want to look guilty.”

  “Maybe, but I don’t think you should be talking as much as you are. I know Marshall would tell you just to give them minimal information.”

  “But that will make me look guilty,” she wailed again.

  “Tessa.”

  Her friend’s voice lowered. “Rappaport’s coming back in. I gotta go. I’ll see you at the tea garden tomorrow. I’ll be there. Promise.” The line went dead.

  Daisy stared at the phone, not knowing exactly what to do. She couldn’t just leave without saying anything to Rachel and Levi. They deserved to know what was going on. The north boundary of their farm wasn’t that far from the Covered Bridge Bed-and-Breakfast.

  * * *

  Daisy climbed out of her purple PT Cruiser Saturday morning along with Vi and Jazzi. As they rounded the nose of the car and headed to the back entrance of the tea garden, Daisy said, “You two really didn’t have to come along with me today if you wanted to hang out together.”

  The two sisters exchanged a look. Vi pulled her knit beret from her honey-blond hair. Her golden brown eyes were sincere as she explained, “In the two years we’ve been back in Willow Creek, Tessa has become like a favorite aunt. We’re worried about her too. Besides, what are we going to do at home other than do our nails? And . . . Foster will be coming in this afternoon.”

  The wind tossed Jazzi’s long straight black hair across her face. “And I could use the extra money.”

  “So your motives aren’t altogether altruistic,” Daisy prompted as she opened the door.

  “Not altogether,” Jazzi agreed, her dark brown gaze honest. “But we want to help.”

  Inside the tea garden, the aroma of baking scones and cookies filled the two rooms. Iris was at the counter arranging the display case. When Vi and Jazzi went to Daisy’s office to hang up their jackets, Daisy stopped by Iris. “Did you sleep last night?” Daisy had called her aunt on the way home from Rachel and Levi’s farm to tell her what had happened.

  “Not much. I just kept thinking about Tessa. And when I came in this morning, she looked like she hadn’t slept a wink. While we cut the scone dough, we talked. But I don’t know if she should be here, Daisy. She doesn’t look good.”

  “I’ll talk to her,” Daisy assured her aunt. “Could you take over as kitchen manager for the day if she leaves?”

  “Of course I can. If we need more baked goods, I’ll whip up apple bread in between brewing tea and chopping up veggies for soup. I can always call Karina if we need her.” Karina Post was their go-to person for short notice. With her fuchsia hair, she was twenty and she and her two-year-old lived with her mom. She worked in her mom’s leather goods shop but could almost always get away to help Daisy because her mom was available to babysit.

  “I checked my weather app before I came in. The temperature is dropping into bitter cold today. Either we’ll have tourists on planned bus tours that come in just to keep warm, or we’ll have a very light day.”

  “Go talk to Tessa,” Iris encouraged. “She’s already burned herself twice. We don’t need a major accident in the kitchen today.”

  As Daisy entered the kitchen, Tessa was lifting scones from a cooling rack onto a serving tray. Daisy greeted Eva, then turned to Tessa. “How are you doing?”

  “I’m fine,” Tessa mumbled.

  She didn’t look fine. Her hair was escaping its braid. Today she was wearing a tea garden apron with a daisy emblazoned on the front instead of her usual smock. Her tunic sweater with its cowl-neck was dusted with flour above her apron as if the flour had puffed up from the mixer. She was pale and wore no lipstick. Again, that wasn’t like Tessa. And her eyes—they were red-rimmed and puffy with black circles beneath them.

  Daisy felt so sorry for her. She enveloped her in a big hug. At first Tessa resisted, but then she leaned into Daisy, and Daisy could feel her sobs.

  “You shouldn’t be here. Let’s go to your apartment. I’ll make us both a cup of tea there and we can talk.”

  “There’s nothing to talk about,” Tessa sniffled. “Reese is dead. How can that be?”

  “I know how you feel,” Daisy said simply.

  At that, Tessa leaned away and gazed into Daisy’s eyes. “Now I understand how you felt when you lost Ryan—like the bottom had dropped out of your world.”

  “Exactly. Come on. Get your coat.”

  Tessa followed Daisy’s instructi
ons, not even taking off the apron. She walked like a robot to Daisy’s office, grabbed her multicolored poncho with faux fur trim, and followed Daisy out the back door. They didn’t talk as they went to the door to Tessa’s apartment.

  Daisy noticed Tessa had trouble putting her key in the lock. Finally she got it, turned the deadbolt, then unlocked the door. They climbed the interior stairway to the apartment. As they stepped inside, Daisy remembered all over again how very different her taste was from Tessa’s.

  Her friend’s bohemian sensibilities about fashion were present in her apartment too. Her sofa was kidney-shaped with throw pillows along its back. The colors of the pillows went from vibrant red to patterns in blue, orange, and wine. The sofa itself wore a fabric patterned with diamonds and chevrons in the same colors as the throw pillows. A low coffee table in front of it was covered with a scarf in bright colors too. The vase with dried flowers, including lavender, was positioned at one end along with a wood candlestick holding a pillar candle. There was a platform rocker with wooden arms and burnt orange fabric.

  Daisy’s glance went to bookshelves along a wall. Multicolored scarf valances in burnt orange, red, and yellow were draped over rods on the front windows. An antique corner shelf along with prints framed in walnut, pine, and white distressed wood decorated the walls. Daisy knew Tessa’s bedroom was just as colorful. A crazy quilt with patches from velvet to gingham to stripes was the focal point.

  When Daisy and her aunt had redone the kitchen, they’d replaced the old cabinets with birch. Tessa had picked the backsplash, a multicolored blue tile. Her teapot was blue too, and sat on the stovetop. Crocks on the counter held kitchen utensils, flour, sugar, and tea. Tessa had definitely made the place her own.

  “Let me make you a cup of tea,” Daisy offered.

  Tessa wandered into her living room and sank down on the couch. “Okay,” she murmured. “You know where the tea is.”

  Yes, Daisy did. She let Tessa settle a bit as she filled the teapot with water, set it on the stove, and turned on the burner. Taking one of Tessa’s bone china teapots from a cupboard, Daisy opened a canister on the counter, spooned what smelled like peach tea into the infuser, and went into the living room to wait for the water to heat.

  “I really think you should let me call Marshall Thompson.”

  Tessa looked up at her. “Not Jonas?”

  Jonas Groft did have contacts at the Willow Creek Police Department, but Daisy was feeling awkward about their friendship. She simply said, “I think it would be better to call Marshall. I still have him on speed dial.”

  Tessa’s eyes seemed to glaze with her thoughts for a moment, but then she nodded.

  Daisy didn’t waste any time because she didn’t want her friend to change her mind. She dialed Marshall, hoping he’d pick up. He did. He was a regular customer at the tea garden and they often chatted . . . or rather he often chatted with her aunt Iris.

  “Daisy, hi. Is something wrong?”

  “I’m sorry to bother you on Saturday.”

  “Nonsense, I work every day. How can I help?”

  She explained the situation.

  “Tell him I’ll pay him an hourly fee,” Tessa said.

  “I heard that,” Marshall told her. “Let’s not worry about a fee yet. I’ll see what I can find out and get back to you.”

  The teakettle whistled and Daisy quickly took it off the heat, poured water into the teapot, waited a few minutes to let the tea steep, and then poured two cups. She brought them both in and set them on the coffee table. “Do you want anything with this? I can make you breakfast.”

  Tessa shook her head. “I’m not hungry. I’m not . . . anything. I feel numb.”

  “And shocked over what happened. You’re still trying to absorb it.”

  “I just can’t. It’s not just Reese. It’s the gallery, too. What will happen to it?”

  “I don’t know. It depends on Reese’s estate, on who the executor is. Do you know if he had a will?”

  Tessa shook her head. “We never talked about anything like that.”

  “Do you know if he has family who needs to be notified?”

  “He never mentioned any. The detective asked me the same thing. He got very snooty about it. He said if Reese and I were involved, shouldn’t I know something like that? Yes, we were involved, but we talked about art, painting, my work, the quilts, new artists. We went to plays and concerts in Hershey and Harrisburg and York and Philly. We didn’t get into personal stuff. You know I don’t like to talk about my background, and apparently Reese didn’t either. So we let it be.”

  Daisy understood that, just as she understood that Reese and Tessa had lived in the now. They hadn’t been serious enough long enough to delve into the past or project into the future. Certainly, the detective could see that.

  Daisy’s phone played its tuba sound. It was the only ringtone she could hear and decipher when she was busy at the tea garden. The caller was Marshall.

  Without preamble, he said, “I found out a few things. First of all, Rappaport wants to get the crime scene tied down and handled before snow moves in tonight. Once snow falls, there won’t be any evidence to gather.”

  Daisy lowered her voice. “So the body was found near the covered bridge?”

  “Looks that way. Blunt force trauma killed Reese Masemer, but there are oddities about the crime scene.”

  “What kind of oddities?”

  “Rappaport wouldn’t say. I couldn’t find out more than what I told you, but it does seem as if the police are looking at Tessa for the murder. She doesn’t have an alibi.”

  Daisy thought of something. She looked at Tessa and asked, “Were you on your computer last night?”

  Tessa shook her head. “No, I was painting.”

  “Did you hear that?” she asked Marshall.

  “I did. It doesn’t look good. If the police call her in for questioning again, she needs to call me and I need to go with her. Does she want me to represent her?”

  Daisy handed her phone to Tessa. “You need to talk to him and make this official.”

  So Tessa did.

  As Daisy lifted her cup to take a sip of tea, Tessa’s doorbell chimed. When Tessa looked stricken, as if the police had come to the door again, Daisy said, “I’ll get it. Finish your call with Marshall.”

  To her surprise, when she opened the door, she found Jonas Groft. He looked just as surprised to see her.

  “I heard what happened and that Tessa was taken down to the station. I thought I could help.”

  “That’s why I’m here,” Daisy answered, ignoring the twinge of attraction she usually felt around Jonas. He was tall and fit with thick black hair. “I called Marshall.” She motioned Jonas inside.

  Still near the door, he said, “Elijah told me you and Tessa stopped in at the store this week. Did you want anything in particular?”

  At a loss, Daisy couldn’t find any words. What could she say? I wanted to know why I hadn’t heard from you. No, she couldn’t say that. So she murmured, “Nothing in particular.”

  However, one thing Jonas was good at was reading people. His green eyes gave her a probing look. “We should talk after I see Tessa.”

  Without waiting for her answer, he strode up the stairs into Tessa’s living room where she was now seated on the sofa looking dejected.

  Daisy wasn’t sure she wanted to have that conversation with Jonas, but she’d deal with that after Tessa’s crisis. Jonas motioned to the cushion beside Tessa on the sofa and asked, “Do you mind?”

  She shook her head.

  He gave her a reassuring half-smile. “The person closest to the victim is always the best and probably the first suspect.”

  Daisy’s friend remained silent.

  “I heard you don’t have an alibi.”

  “How did you hear that?” Daisy asked.

  “I have a contact at the station. I called there. I got filled in as much as they’d let anybody know, probably the same thing with Marshall if h
e called.”

  “I don’t have an alibi,” Tessa said tersely.

  “Let’s go a little further than that,” he suggested. “Have you been anywhere near the covered bridge lately?”

  “Yes,” Tessa admitted, surprising Daisy.

  Jonas waited for more. His silence pushed Tessa to give him more. “I’ve been sketching there in the early morning before I go to the tea garden. I’m painting a Morning Has Broken series.”

  Jonas’s frown was deep, cutting lines on his cheeks and around his eyes. Those lines must have come from his police work, not from laughter, Daisy thought.

  “Did you tell Rappaport that?” Jonas inquired.

  “He didn’t ask.”

  “The fact that you’ve been there recently is proof that you know the area. Did anyone see you there?”

  “Sure. I’ve been doing it for a few weeks. Guests from the bed-and-breakfast who go on early morning walks could see me. I don’t hide. I even set up my easel.”

  “How can you sketch or paint when it’s so cold?” he asked.

  “I do it quickly, probably no more than half an hour at a time. I have leather gloves that fit like a second skin. But I can sketch and charcoal with those on.”

  “Don’t tell Rappaport about the gloves,” he murmured. “I wouldn’t be surprised if the police ask for a warrant to search your apartment. But they need cause before they can do it. You don’t want to give them cause.”

  “Marshall already told me not to say more than I have to, and if I have to go in again, I’m supposed to call him.”

  “Heed his advice.” Jonas gave Daisy a look. “I’m still surprised you didn’t call me before you called Marshall.”

  Usually Daisy tried to communicate her feelings, but this case could be an exception. She just gave a little shrug.

  “Do you want to come to my shop with me so we can have the privacy to talk?”

  “Not right now. I don’t want to leave Tessa.”

  “Are you avoiding me?”

  “Are you avoiding me?” she asked back.

  Seeming to come out of the daze she’d been in, Tessa looked from one of them to the other. “Why don’t you two go up to my studio in the attic? You can have some privacy there. I promise not to listen unless you shout.”