“But you didn’t,” Daisy guessed.
“No, I didn’t and that’s why I’m so angry now. He’s such a bully.” Her face took on color as she proclaimed it.
“He’s trying to get answers,” Daisy tried to soothe.
“Well, maybe he should get them from the right person instead of me.” Tessa was on a roll and her cheeks pinkened further.
Marshall placed a hand on her shoulder and she suddenly deflated.
To Daisy she explained, “You were right about others hearing my argument with Reese. Detective Rappaport knew all about that. He grilled me for at least a half hour trying to make me say something that wasn’t true.”
“It’s a technique,” Marshall said. “He’s hoping you’ll be inconsistent about your story and he can catch that. But you weren’t.”
“That’s because I told him the truth. The argument was one lots of couples have. I wanted to get closer to Reese and he wasn’t sharing with me. That was the beginning and the end of it.”
“If others overheard,” Daisy said, “then that’s what they overheard. But if the detective kept questioning you about it, my guess is whoever overheard was too far away to catch exactly what the two of you were saying.”
“Good deductive skills, Daisy,” Marshall praised. “That’s exactly what I told Tessa. The police push even harder when they don’t know the answers to the questions they’re asking you. It’s a good thing Tessa practices meditation because she did manage to keep her cool through the whole interview. I know that wasn’t easy, especially when Rappaport started asking about Reese’s vehicle.”
“What about his vehicle?” Daisy asked.
“Detective Rappaport asked me how often I’d ridden in Reese’s SUV,” Tessa said.
“What did you tell him?”
“I told him I rode in it whenever we went out together. Then he asked me if I’d ever driven Reese’s SUV.”
“He found your fingerprints on the steering wheel,” Daisy guessed.
“Apparently, though he didn’t say that. I told him, yes, I’d driven it. I picked up boxes of frames for Reese at a public auction.”
Now also setting his cup and saucer on the desk, Marshall frowned. “At that, I cut off the interview. I didn’t like the way the questioning was going. If they want to charge Tessa, they’re going to have to come up with more than her fingerprints in her boyfriend’s SUV.”
Apparently agitated again, Tessa stood up and paced Daisy’s office, her flowery loose top wafting as she walked back and forth. “What if they arrest me, Daisy? What am I going to do?”
“They haven’t arrested you yet, which means they don’t have evidence—concrete evidence—to connect you to Reese’s body.”
Tessa went white. “But what if he was wearing clothes that he’d worn when we were together?”
That was a definite possibility, Daisy supposed. She was going to have to figure out sooner rather than later who murdered Reese Masemer, because Tessa couldn’t live under this kind of stress.
* * *
After Marshall left, Tessa set to baking and Daisy let her. If Tessa went upstairs to her attic to paint, she’d be all alone with her thoughts. It was better if she stayed in the tea garden where they could all distract her. Daisy knew her friend was scared out of her wits, and she not only had her fear to deal with, but her grief, too. That was a powerful combination to combat.
Daisy was adding more scones to the case for the after-work crowd when Foster came up to her. “I didn’t want to bother you before . . . you know, when you were talking with Tessa.”
“She needs all the support she can get,” Daisy said. “She’s afraid the police are going to charge her.”
Foster’s brow furrowed. “If there’s any way I can help, let me know. I do have computer skills.”
“If she needs that kind of help, we’ll let you know. Is there something in particular you wanted to talk to me about?”
“Valentine’s Day is coming up soon,” he started.
“In less than five weeks.”
“Vi’s hoping to come home the weekend before, but she’s not sure yet. I’d like to do more than send her flowers.”
“Flowers are nice.”
“I suppose,” Foster said, “but I saw a heart locket in one of the jewelry stores. It’s sterling silver.” He spread his forefinger and his thumb apart about an inch. “It’s that big. Do you think she’d like it?”
Should she caution Foster, as his mother might have, not to spend his hard-earned money on gifts? Or should she let him follow his heart and discover the consequences on his own? She went for the latter.
“I think Vi would like anything you give her. It doesn’t have to be costly. Even if you make a Valentine’s Day card out of construction paper, she’d appreciate it.”
“She probably would,” Foster agreed with a smile. “But I want to give her something special . . . something she’ll have to remember me by when she’s not here.”
“Then the locket sounds perfect.”
Foster nodded and grinned. “Thank you, Mrs. Swanson. You’re the greatest.”
“Daisy,” she reminded him, as she had many times before.
He blushed. “That just seems informal for the mother of my girlfriend.”
“But I’m your boss, too, and all the other employees call me Daisy.”
He smiled at her. “All right . . . Daisy. Thanks again. I’ll get back to work.”
As she watched Foster walk away, she wondered if Vi was his first serious relationship. She knew he was Vi’s. While Vi had dated in high school, none of it had been serious. She’d had her eye on grades and college and that’s what had mattered. Now, Daisy hoped Vi still had her mind on grades and college. But thinking about that heart locket Foster wanted to give her daughter, Daisy knew she might be denying how serious Vi and Foster were becoming about each other.
* * *
On Thursday evening, Daisy and Jazzi walked up the pathway to a charming little stone bungalow located in an older section of town on a street with mature trees, other bungalows, ranch houses, and modest two-story homes. A single-car garage was located on the west side. A gable with a tall Palladian window decorated the east side of the house. Probably one of her Aunt Iris’s favorite parts of the house was the oval window with stained glass in the front door under the gabled overhang.
Jazzi strolled ahead of Daisy between the two white pillars onto the porch.
“I wonder what Aunt Iris is making for dinner?” Jazzi said. “Probably your favorite meal.”
“And what is my favorite meal?” Daisy asked.
“It’s between chicken pot pie and chicken with dumplings.”
Daisy laughed as she rang the doorbell to alert her aunt that they were there. Then she opened the door.
The house was a little unusual in its floor plan. Standing on the ceramic tile floor in the foyer, when Daisy looked to the left she saw the doorway that led to the garage. The master bedroom was to her right and the living room was straight ahead. To her surprise it was dark. She couldn’t even see the sofa cushions in their pretty green and yellow leaf pattern or all of the books that lined her aunt’s bookshelf.
Daisy noticed Jazzi was hanging back. She stepped forward and called, “Aunt Iris?”
Suddenly the room lit up and at least twenty people yelled, “Surprise! Happy birthday!” The chorus of happy birthdays seemed to go on for five minutes.
Daisy turned to her daughter. “Did you know about this?”
“Of course I did,” Jazzi answered her with a laugh. “I helped Aunt Iris plan it. Vi would have come home if she could have, but she has a test early tomorrow morning.”
Daisy gave her daughter a hug. “That’s okay. She texted me earlier and sent me an e-mail birthday card.”
Now Daisy could peer into the small dining room and the table that was laden with food. The kitchen to the right was small, only about eight by ten feet, but the counters were filled with serving dishes.
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To Daisy’s surprise, her parents came forward to hug her. “Happy birthday, honey,” her dad said.
“You’re back from your vacation!”
“We couldn’t miss your birthday. And look who else is here,” her mother noted.
Just then Daisy spotted her sister, Camellia, who had driven in from New York. Camellia was two years older than she was. Her brunette hair was cut in a chic bob hairstyle. She gave Daisy a huge hug too. They might have their differences, but they were sisters.
Tessa waved at Daisy from the kitchen and pointed to the two men, one on either side of the dining room—Jonas and Cade. All the staff from the tea garden was there, and Daisy felt the warm, loving glow of being back home in Willow Creek. Some days she didn’t know if returning here and starting a business had been the right decision. But tonight she was sure it had been.
“First, we’ll eat,” her Aunt Iris called from the kitchen. “Then Daisy can open her presents. They’re in the bedroom,” her Aunt Iris told her. “I’ll bring them out once everyone has been seated and finished eating.”
Daisy didn’t expect presents. Just having everyone here was the best gift she could receive.
Not only had her aunt prepared chicken pot pie, but there was chicken corn soup too along with sliced ham, rolls, cole slaw, chow-chow relish, and sweet and sour pickles. Desserts lined the other side of the table and included shoofly pie, apple cobbler, cherry crumb pie, and a teapot-shaped birthday cake.
Daisy went to her aunt and gave her a huge hug. “When did you have time to do all this?”
“I made the chicken pot pie tonight. But the soup I made yesterday in the slow cooker and the staff helped with desserts. Tessa made the shoofly pie. Eva made the cherry crumb, and Karina made the apple cobbler. And I did the cake. Go ahead and get in the buffet line. You eat first and then you can talk to all your guests.”
Jazzi was at Daisy’s elbow, probably because she knew her mom would get stuck talking to one person after another and wouldn’t eat. Iris had probably enlisted Jazzi to make sure Daisy sampled everything. No problem. Daisy suddenly had an appetite.
She smiled at everyone, took food from around the table, then went to the sofa where she sat and started on her meal. Soon everyone else was sitting on the folding chairs and living room furniture and talking a mile a minute. Iris, Eva, and Tessa kept circulating, picking up dirty dishes, getting something for anyone who needed it. They were so used to working together that their movements were coordinated and they didn’t duplicate each other’s tasks. Foster helped too, but he was mostly on kitchen duty, washing up anything that needed it, and loading the dishwasher.
There was hot tea for anyone who wanted it along with iced tea and soft drinks. After Daisy finished the piece of shoofly pie with whipped cream on top and the slice of chocolate marble birthday cake, she sipped her tea and set the cup and saucer on the coffee table.
“I’m going to circulate a bit,” she told Jazzi, and got up to do that. She started in the living room saying a word or two or having a short conversation with each person who was there. When she crossed to the dining room, Cade was the first person she ran into. “I knew I’d be seeing you tonight,” Cade said. “It was hard not to let anything slip.”
“You did a good job. I can’t believe everyone kept this a surprise.”
“We knew your aunt Iris’s wrath would come down upon us if we didn’t,” Cade joked. “And before someone steals you away, can you be free for lunch tomorrow?”
“I can,” Daisy said with a smile, glad he remembered they were going to do that. But when she looked up, she saw Jonas was standing nearby and he might have overheard.
She groaned inwardly. But then she decided it shouldn’t matter. Jonas had said his peace, hadn’t he? Why should he care if she dated someone or not? But she wasn’t sure if she was dating Cade. They were just going to have lunch.
Jonas was the last person she spoke with as she made the rounds of the kitchen and the dining room once again. He didn’t have much to say. “Happy birthday,” he congratulated her. “Why don’t I sit beside you on the sofa? I think you might need some help with what’s going to happen next.”
As she turned a questioning gaze to him, her Aunt Iris and Jazzi carried in a card table from the bedroom. It was loaded with presents, many of them the same size. Daisy wasn’t sure what to think about all of it.
As she sat beside Jonas on the sofa, she asked, “You knew about this too?”
“You mean the gifts? Yes, I did.”
Daisy started with opening the present that was wrapped in pretty pink paper with fuchsia curly ribbon.
From somewhere Jonas produced a garbage bag.
“You’re prepared,” she said.
“I am. Iris asked me to help with the unwrapping.”
Daisy glanced over at her aunt Iris. Was she matchmaking? She’d have to talk to her about that.
The first package held a birthday card from Eva. Daisy waved to her then lifted the lid. Inside, carefully wrapped in tissue paper, was a beautiful teacup and saucer painted with yellow roses. It was gorgeous.
“Thank you, Eva,” Daisy said loud enough for her employee to hear. “It’s beautiful.”
To Daisy’s delight, each box contained another teacup and saucer. Apparently, Iris had told everyone that would be the appropriate gift and the theme of the party. Before Daisy knew it, there were ten teacups on the card table. Jonas had somehow made all the wrappings disappear.
As she lifted another box, he said, “That one’s from me.”
Carefully she slid her fingers under the pale blue paper and released the ribbon. This box was larger than the others. Inside, she found a teapot and it was decorated with cats. One of them looked like Pepper and another resembled Marjoram.
“Variation on a theme,” Jonas told her.
“I love it! I’ve wanted a teapot with cats for a long time and couldn’t find one.” She could tell immediately this one was bone china. “It’s just right for me to take to my desk when I’m doing paperwork or working on the computer. Thank you.”
“You’re most welcome,” Jonas said chivalrously.
Several of the women asked to see the teapot. After she passed it around, she leaned close to Jonas. “Now I really need shelves in my storage closet at the tea room.”
“The one next to your pantry?”
“Yes, that’s the one.”
“I can put them in for you.”
“That would be a lot of work.”
“Shelves are easy. A few brackets and nails, two-by-fours. It wouldn’t take much time.”
“I’d be grateful, but you have to let me pay you.”
“You can pay for the supplies. How about that?”
She felt a different vibe coming from Jonas tonight and wasn’t sure what it meant. “All right. I’ll pay for the supplies.” And because everyone was talking at that time, she added, “Elijah showed Tessa and me the line of reclaimed furniture you want to put in. It really looks beautiful.”
“Finding the reclaimed wood is the trick,” Jonas admitted. “I’m waiting for the go-ahead from Aaron Zook. Once I get it, I’ll be gathering wood from an old barn on his property that will soon be torn down. Maybe you’d like to go along and give me your opinion about it? I have to mark the sections I want. After all, you fashioned your house from an old barn, and you have some beautiful wood in your kitchen.”
“I’d be glad to go along.” With that out of her mouth before she even thought about it, she suddenly wondered if she was really that eager to spend time with Jonas.
“I’ll text you when I find out how soon I can take a look around the barn,” he told her.
She wondered if they’d just made a date, or if Jonas was simply making conversation to pass the time. He handed her another one of the presents and she began to unwrap it, putting the question aside for now. Time would tell if Jonas meant his offers or not.
The rest of the evening passed quickly in conversatio
n and laughter. Soon, one by one the guests began to leave, including Cade and Jonas. Daisy’s dad came up to her with a broad smile. He had a long face, kind blue eyes, and sandy brown hair gone to gray. Tonight he was wearing dress jeans and a plaid, snap-button shirt. He’d left his Phillies baseball cap at home, probably on the advice of her mother.
“I just want to wish you a happy birthday again. Did you enjoy the party?”
“The party was wonderful. Did you plan on coming home for it all along?”
“We did.”
Daisy’s mom and her sister, Camellia, came over to her now too. Her dad leaned close to her and murmured, “They want to talk to you about something. I’ll help your aunt clean up the kitchen.”
Her father’s words sounded ominous. Anytime her mom and her sister put their heads together, who knew what could happen? They had a habit of banding together. It had been like that when Daisy was growing up. Camellia was the older sister. According to her mother, Camellia had done everything right, from her performance in school to her job at a winery in New York. A marketing specialist, she knew how to sell and not only wine. She always looked perfect. Daisy, on the other hand, didn’t much care how often her own hair was trimmed and styled. It waved where it wanted to. She braided it, pushed it behind her ears, or when it was long enough, tied it in a ponytail.
Her mother wore a smile when she approached Daisy. She usually wore bright pink lipstick. Her ash blond hair that was permed close around her head didn’t move much when she walked. Daisy admired her mom, who’d always been a partner with her husband at Gallagher’s Garden Corner. They both spent long hours at the nursery from spring to fall, and even over the holidays. Rose never ducked the work and had a hands-on approach to handling the nursery and the customers.
Daisy’s mother said, “It was a lovely party. Your aunt knows how to pull a table together, though I think her chicken pot pie was just a little too thick. Don’t you think?”
That was the aspect of her mother’s character Daisy didn’t appreciate—the critical side. She’d always felt that she’d gotten more of that than Camellia had.
Murder with Cinnamon Scones Page 9
