Eric looked up at Tessa. “Can we do it in three days?”
“We can try. We’ll start with your dad’s apartment.” Tessa asked Eric, “Would you like to say a few words about your dad later when we start the service?”
“Yes,” Eric agreed, nodding.
Cade made a motion to Eric and his mom to sit in the grouping of chairs along the side of the room. “Why don’t we go over here and talk for a few minutes.”
As soon as the group moved over to the chairs, Jonas took Daisy’s elbow and pulled her aside. “So you’re going to help Cade with Eric?”
“I’ll help both Tessa and Cade with Eric if either needs it. This isn’t about me and Cade, Jonas. This is all about Reese’s son. This is a slow time of the year for Cade. I imagine he’ll take off and spend the time with Eric when Eric’s not helping Tessa. I’ll check in with both of them.”
Jonas must have heard the resolution in her voice . . . or the truthfulness behind it. Leaning close to her he said, “I just want you to be careful. It’s possible that Eric is hiding a lot of anger toward his father. Reese deserted him. Eric could have seen Reese as an out for living with his mother, and if Reese didn’t agree to that, Eric might have gotten even angrier. A teenager that age can have a lot of strength.”
Daisy’s first inclination was to tell Jonas he was all wrong. Eric seemed like a normal teenager. But then what did she really know about teenage boys?
Cade inviting Eric to stay with him reminded her of Jonas helping out Foster. “How are you and Foster getting along?” she asked.
“He’s a good kid, Daisy. He’s only at my place to crash at night. I’m an early riser but he’s up before I am, studying, working on his laptop. We’re good. I’m trying to convince him to talk to his father, though. I don’t want to be a wedge between them.”
That was exactly what she’d told Foster. Maybe she and Jonas were on the same page after all.
* * *
Early the next morning, before she went to the tea garden, Daisy drove to Willow Creek’s police station. What Jonas had said about Eric had bothered her all night. She went to bed thinking about it and she woke up thinking about it. He’d said, A teenager that age can have a lot of strength.
She didn’t want to believe a son could kill a father, but then she had lived in a pretty protected world and so had her girls. Jonas knew about another world where anything was possible, and not in a positive way.
The station had electronic front doors but the inside took Daisy back to earlier decades. A dispatcher sat near the front door at a scarred desk. Looking to be in her forties, she had short brown hair and was wearing earphones. Her focus was on her computer monitor. A wooden fence of sorts separated the reception area from the rest of the room. It had a swinging door in the middle. Inside the gate, there were six desks with computers. Officers occupied two of the desks. One of the officers came forward to meet her.
“Is Detective Rappaport in?”
The officer nodded and buzzed the detective. Rappaport appeared from a hallway and motioned to her. He took her into a conference room and shut the door. “If you want to talk about the case, you know I can’t.”
“I know you can if you want to.”
“Not when it’s an ongoing investigation, especially not now when your friend is one of my suspects.”
“I didn’t come here to talk about Tessa. I want to know if you knew about Reese’s ex-wife and son.”
“I can’t share investigation information,” he repeated with a scowl.
“Well, then, let’s make this hypothetical. Hypothetically, can you tell me if they might have alibis for the time of the murder?”
Rappaport just shook his head.
“Look, Detective. Tessa, Cade, and I will be spending time with Eric. Cade has invited him into his spare room for the next couple of days. Tessa will be emptying Reese’s apartment and the gallery with Eric. They will both probably be alone with him. We all need to know if Eric is safe to be around.”
Rappaport rubbed the back of his neck, studied Daisy, and crossed his arms over his chest. “Hypothetically speaking, Reese’s kid has never been caught in any trouble. Hypothetically speaking, the boy and his mother are each other’s alibis.”
“And that means?”
“You’re smart, Mrs. Swanson. You know what it means. If two people have the same alibi, that means they cancel each other out in my opinion.”
“So you can’t ease my concern about Eric.”
“Take a look at the situation and tell me what you think,” he directed.
“I think Reese’s ex-wife is too slight to have dumped the body, or even gotten it into Reese’s SUV. Eric, on the other hand, has the height and the muscles that he could have done it. Or they could have done it together.”
“Hypothetically speaking again,” Rappaport said, “the boy could have done it on his own. Hypothetically, if he borrowed a friend’s car, he could have told his mother he was sleeping over at a friend’s house, driven here, and driven back the same night.”
“Does he have a license?”
“He has a learner’s permit but he doesn’t have a car. In my experience, a learner’s permit doesn’t keep anybody from extending their curfew if they truly want to go somewhere.”
“So you really don’t have any answers for me.”
“I don’t really have any answers period.” He looked disgusted and frustrated and like he’d spent all night at the station. She knew she shouldn’t but she did feel a little sorry for him. “I have to ask you something.”
“Your tone tells me I’m not going to like what you’re going to ask me, am I?”
“I don’t know, but I’ll ask anyway. Do you really think I’d do something illegal to help a friend?”
Sighing, he rubbed his hand down his face. “Look, Mrs. Swanson. I realize you’re usually an upright woman. You have values and I respect that. But you also have loyalty and determination. From what I’ve seen, you care deeply about family and friends. You got in my way several times when you were trying to help your aunt Iris.”
She thought about protesting but she didn’t.
“You thought I was on the wrong track, and you think that now. Do I believe you’d do something illegal to help a friend? I’m not sure. Why don’t you tell me?”
Suddenly the question wasn’t so easy for Daisy to answer either. What if Jazzi was in trouble, or Jonas, or Violet, or even Foster or one of her staff? Yes, she was loyal. Yes, she wanted to protect them. And if she believed in their innocence—
Rappaport crossed his arms over his chest again. “See? You’re honest. Even you can’t answer that question right now. But I will tell you this. I was trying to squeeze you for information that day. No, I don’t believe you’d hide the murder weapon for Tessa Miller, but that doesn’t mean I don’t believe you wouldn’t do something else. Bake some scones, Mrs. Swanson, and leave the rest to me.”
Daisy picked up her purse that she’d set on the table, nodded to Detective Rappaport, and left the conference room. She couldn’t leave it all up to him. She just couldn’t. Maybe when she and Tessa had dinner with the Becks tonight they’d learn more about Reese’s background.
* * *
Later that morning Daisy was thinking about everything Detective Rappaport had said. Could Eric and his mother really be each other’s alibis? Could the boy and/or the mother be lying?
Daisy served tea but every time she served a cinnamon scone she thought about Reese. Had he been hiding more secrets than those that had been uncovered?
She was still mulling that over when Cade entered the tea garden. Her aunt Iris raised her brows as if asking if she should serve Cade or if Daisy wanted to do it.
“I’ll take his order,” Daisy said. She wanted to know if Cade and Eric had gotten along okay. Crossing to his table, she asked, “What can I get you today?”
“How about that new blend you told me about, black tea with blackberry, and three of those chocolate chip
cookies, too.”
“Tea and cookies coming up.” She’d wait until she served him to ask him a few questions.
After she took him his tea and cookies, she poured tea into his cup from a white two-cup teapot trimmed in navy and black.
Cade motioned to the teapot. “Can you join me?”
It was midmorning and their service to customers had slowed down. The temperature was still bitter—in the teens. So there was little foot traffic. No buses today either. Glancing around the tea room, she saw the two tables that were filled had been served and Cora Sue was standing guard in case they needed anything else. Aunt Iris was at the counter.
“Just a few minutes,” Daisy told him. “The lunch crowd will soon be coming in, I hope.”
“This weather isn’t doing anybody any favors,” he said. “Clients don’t want to trek around looking at houses when it’s this cold outside.”
“Did your night with Eric go smoothly?” Daisy asked, trying for a nonchalance she didn’t feel.
“It went fine. I took him to Sarah Jane’s for a hearty breakfast. He insisted on paying for his own. He talked to his mother this morning too. He seems like a great kid. I don’t understand how Reese just walked away from him.”
“It sounds as if Reese needed to walk away from his life. Maybe he expected to keep up a relationship with Eric.”
Cade shook his head. “You can’t be a dad on a sometimes basis. You either are one or you aren’t.”
Daisy supposed that was certainly true. “Did Eric talk much about his dad?”
“A little. But he did want to know any stories Reese told me about his gallery and museum hopping. We talked about sports. He did say he didn’t start searching for his dad until last November. Then he found a renewal of his dad’s driver’s license online and the Willow Creek address.”
“Was there a custody agreement?”
“His mom has full custody. They were both angry and bitter about Reese leaving.”
So Eric had admitted he was angry. “Is Eric at the gallery now?” Daisy asked.
“I dropped him there after breakfast. Tessa was already boxing up paintings to return to artists.”
After hesitating a moment, Daisy asked, “Do you think Tessa is safe with Eric?”
“What do you mean?”
“Eric and his mother are alibis for each other the night that Reese was killed. That’s almost like not having an alibi at all. Eric is big enough and strong enough that he could have—”
“Daisy! You’ve got to be out of your mind. I told you, Eric’s a good kid.” Cade lowered his voice. “He would never have hurt his father.”
“You spent one night with him, Cade. How can you be so sure?”
Cade just shook his head at her. “You’re becoming jaded, do you know that? Maybe you’ve been hanging around cops or former cops too long.”
She knew what that meant. He thought she was spending too much time with Jonas. She wasn’t going to delve into that with Cade.
Rising to her feet, she placed her hands on the table and leaned down to him. “I’m not jaded, Cade. I’ve just become realistic and practical. In a case like this, anyone with a motive and opportunity could be the killer. I’m glad Eric will only be staying with you a couple of nights. Then I don’t have to worry about you.”
With that, she returned to the kitchen, her hands trembling a little. Of course, she didn’t want to think Eric could kill his dad. Of course, she wanted to believe Tessa would be cleared. But wishes didn’t become reality without hard work. She was just going to have to work harder to figure out who murdered Reese.
* * *
When business was incredibly slow midafternoon, Daisy said to Iris, “I’m going to take a snack down to Tessa and Eric at the gallery. I won’t be long.”
Aunt Iris, who was rearranging the baked goods in the case, just nodded. Daisy grabbed her jacket, scarf, and gloves and headed out. A few minutes later as she passed Woods, she saw a movement in the store. She didn’t look in or stop. She kept going. She didn’t want her aunt and her staff to be short another pair of hands if they did get busy.
Daisy found the gallery door locked, which made sense with what had happened. She pressed the buzzer. Tessa’s voice came over the intercom. “Who is it?”
“It’s Daisy.”
“I’ll be right down.”
It wasn’t long before Tessa opened the back door. “I’m surprised to see you.”
“I brought you and Eric a snack.” She handed Tessa the box of cookies. “I’m sure Eric will probably want to dig into them more than you will. He is here, right?”
“We’ve been up in Reese’s apartment. That’s why we had the doors locked. Come on up. Eric has been a big help, especially with stacking boxes.”
Daisy undid her scarf, unzipped her jacket, and followed Tessa. As they climbed the stairs, she realized how difficult this had to be for Tessa and maybe Eric, too. When they reached the second floor and the door to Reese’s apartment, Daisy saw that the space was set up like a studio apartment. The living room, bedroom, and kitchen were all open. She supposed the closed-off area was the bathroom. Eric was sitting on the black leather sofa paging through what looked like a sketchbook.
“Hi, Eric,” she said.
The teenager looked up at her as if he’d come back from a long trip. “Hi, Mrs. Swanson.”
She took off her jacket and laid it over a chair by a small round black enamel table. Then she went to sit on the sofa beside Eric. “What are these?”
“They’re sketches my dad drew.” Eric’s voice was low and a bit husky.
Daisy saw why when she looked at the sketches. There were a few father-son drawings. The man was Reese and she suspected the boy was Eric when he was five or six. “You and your dad?” she asked.
Eric nodded. “I never knew he drew these.”
“Did you know your dad painted?” Tessa asked him.
“He had a room upstairs that he kept closed. It smelled like turpentine and paint, but I never went in much. I knew he didn’t want me messing with his stuff. But that was when I was little. I don’t remember him painting much when I was in like fifth or sixth grade. I think he gave it up.”
“Maybe this is one of his last ones,” Tessa suggested, going to a painting in the bedroom area and pointing to it. She lifted it down off the wall and brought it to Daisy. It was a portrait of Eric and he looked to be around ten.
“I saw that hanging there when I was here over the holidays,” Eric said. “I was surprised. I never knew he did portraits. He had a lot of stuff that you had to look at sideways to see what it was. He left it all behind. Mom has it stashed in a cubbyhole.”
Daisy studied the frame on the painting. It was also black enamel like the side tables and the small dining table. The entertainment center was black also. But this frame on the portrait of Eric looked too stark to be surrounding a little boy. You could still see the little boy in the ten-year-old. That’s what was so magical about the painting—the twinkle in the boy’s eyes, the slight quirk of laughter on his lips, the bit of tousled hair. It was easy to see the boy who Eric had been.
But that frame—maybe Reese just liked black.
Eric took the painting from her and studied it. But as he did, Daisy saw something taped to the brown paper on the back of the frame. The wire for hanging the portrait disrupted her view. Her focus went again to Eric and the expression on his face as he studied the boy he’d been.
“Your father loved you,” Tessa said. “That painting shows it. He wouldn’t have been able to paint you like that if his heart wasn’t full of you. Painting lets out what’s inside. That’s the beauty of it.”
Eric’s eyes glistened with unshed tears and Daisy felt so sorry for him. He handed the portrait back to Tessa.
Daisy asked, “Do you mind if I look at the back of that?”
Tessa gave her a puzzled look.
Daisy took it from her friend’s hands and turned it around. She never expected wha
t she saw there.
“What is it?” Tessa asked. Eric wasn’t much interested. He still seemed lost in his thoughts or in his childhood.
Daisy didn’t know if she should say what she’d found out loud. But then she decided they’d all had enough of dishonesty, including Eric. “It’s a prescription for hydrocodone,” she said in a monotone, not too loud and not too soft, but loud enough for Eric to hear.
His head jerked up. “It’s what?”
“It’s a prescription for pain medication.”
“I know what hydrocodone is,” Eric mumbled. “Why would Dad have that taped on the back?” He rose from the sofa and came to stare at it. He pointed to the date. “He never got it filled. That’s dated a few days before Dad left.”
“Did your father ever have any injuries?” Daisy asked.
Eric thought about it. “Yeah, he did. He used to jog. He always went running early in the morning. But one day he fell and he couldn’t make it home. It was his knee. He called one of his doctor friends, who came with a brace and got him to the hospital. He had surgery. I remember seeing the hydrocodone pill bottle in Mom and Dad’s bedroom.”
Daisy had a feeling she knew why Reese had left his life behind, and what he’d done in between leaving and coming to Willow Creek. But she wanted to find out for sure. She told Eric, “I’d like to look into this prescription a little more. Could you text your mom and ask her to call me when she has a chance?”
“Sure. Give me your number and I’ll text it to her.”
Daisy did.
As he texted his mom with Daisy’s message and her number, he returned to the sofa. “Why do you think Dad had that taped on the back of my painting?”
“That’s what I want to talk to your mom about.”
“You think he was using?”
This teenager probably knew more about drugs than she did. “I don’t think he was using now. After I talk to your mom, I’ll know more.”
Eric nodded. “I wanted to check out my dad’s computer. He had some great artwork on there, a list of the best galleries, and what museums his favorite paintings were in. You know, from the masters? But Tessa said the police took it. Not just his business one but his laptop, too.”
Murder with Cinnamon Scones Page 19
