“They’re checking out everything to try to figure out who hurt him.”
“He had a lot of stuff on those computers. It will take them weeks to go through it.”
Tessa couldn’t live in limbo for weeks, and that’s even if the police found anything on the computers. Daisy hoped Eric’s mother would call her soon. It was time to do more digging into what might have gotten Reese killed.
Chapter Sixteen
A few snow flurries swirled around Daisy and Tessa as George and Tanya Beck invited them into their home. The Becks’ house was one story and sprawling. There was an open-concept great room, dining area, kitchen, and a hall that Daisy guessed led to the bedrooms. The kitchen’s granite countertops and high-end stainless steel appliances told Daisy that everything in this house was high quality. It was decorated traditionally with lots of walnut furniture and Oriental rugs.
After greetings, Tanya took their coats.
George said, “How about a glass of wine to warm you up?”
Both Daisy and Tessa declined. Daisy said, “Thank you but I’m driving.”
Tessa gave George a half-hearted smile. “I’m trying to keep my head as clear as possible. I never know when the detective is going to call with more questions.”
“I was questioned too,” George said. “But I don’t know how much help I was. Men can be friends, but it’s not the same way women can be friends.”
Tanya returned from the coat closet in the foyer. “Isn’t that the truth?” she asked rhetorically. “Women let everything spill out. Men just talk about sports.”
“Reese and I—we talked art,” George said.
Daisy took another glance around the great room. She guessed the paintings on these walls, from landscapes to still lifes, could be originals.
A buzzer dinged on the oven. “That’s the twice-baked potatoes,” Tanya explained with a smile. I made chicken in a garlic lemon sauce and steamed broccoli. I have cheese sauce for that, or if you’re a purist, good old butter.”
“All of it sounds delicious,” Daisy said.
Tanya motioned to the dining area. “Good. Then go ahead and take a seat at the table.”
“Can we do anything?” Tessa asked. “After all, we’re both used to serving.”
Tanya laughed. “I suppose you are. Consider this your night off. I’ll be serving you.”
Seated at the table, conversation revolved around the Beck family, their son in college at Notre Dame, and the ups and downs of running a small business.
After that, conversation turned to the Quilt Lovers Weekend. “I understand the Covered Bridge Bed-and-Breakfast will be having two raffles, both for quilts,” George commented.
“They will,” Daisy affirmed. “I’ll announce who won at my tea on Saturday.”
“That’s terrific cross-promotion,” Tanya acknowledged.
“I hear the bed-and-breakfast is almost completely booked,” George noted. “And I understand tour buses will be coming from Philadelphia, Harrisburg, and Hagerstown. That should be good for all the businesses.”
“I’m just hoping the tourists are coming for the quilts and our little stores rather than to gawk at the town where Reese was murdered,” Tessa admitted.
George addressed Tessa. “The news cycle has died down. Follow-up even on the cable channels is hard to do these days with all of the news barraging us at one time.”
Tessa took a sip of her water. “I’ve been spending time with Reese’s son. He’ll be in town until tomorrow. He insists he’s going to call Detective Rappaport once a week for a progress report.”
“That was a surprise when the boy and his mother appeared at the funeral service. I can’t believe Reese kept his past hidden so well.” George looked a little hurt by that.
“It was a shock to meet them face-to-face,” Tessa said.
“What do you think of Reese’s son?” George asked.
This time Daisy responded. “While Tessa tells you about Eric, I need to make a phone call to my daughter to find out what time I should pick her up this evening. Is that okay?”
“Of course,” Tanya said. “The powder room’s right down that hall and George’s office is the next door on the left. You’re welcome to use it for some privacy.”
As Daisy walked down the hall, she noticed a gallery of photos in frames depicting the Beck family—from vacations to their son’s high school graduation. Daisy used the powder room to freshen up and then stopped at the first door on the left.
The door to the room was open. It was more of a library than an office though there was a computer monitor and a printer. Bookshelves lined two of the walls. Daisy couldn’t help stepping close to them to take a peek. A leather-bound collection of classics caught her attention as well as volumes on architecture and travel. As she took her phone from her pocket to call Jazzi, she studied the folk art knickknacks on the shelves. Her gaze went to a collection of owls in all sizes from a white snowy owl to a big-eyed twelve-inch barn owl.
While tapping Jazzi’s contact icon, Daisy noticed another landscape on the wall that was signed. She liked the tranquility of the painting. The Becks certainly had good taste.
After speaking with Jazzi, Daisy studied her watch. She and Tessa had about another hour before they should leave. Returning to the dining area, she rejoined everyone at the table, seeing a luscious-looking layer cake with mint green frosting in the center of the table.
With a broad smile, Tanya motioned to it. “I was just telling Tessa this is my first experiment with mint extract. It’s in the icing and chocolate chips are in the white cake.”
“If you ever need a job baking,” Daisy teased, “come see me.” She looked at George. “And if you ever want to sell those leather-bound classics, especially Treasure Island, give me a call.”
* * *
George shook his head. “I hope to hand them down.”
An hour later after cake and coffee, as Daisy drove back to the tea garden to drop off Tessa before picking up Jazzi, Tessa said, “I guess accountants make a boatload of money. That house was really nice without being ostentatious.”
“It was.” Daisy’s phone sounded its tuba message. She’d laid her phone on the console between the front seats. Glancing at it, she saw Larissa Masemer’s name on the screen. “Finally. It’s Reese’s ex-wife.” She’d been waiting for the call. Larissa mustn’t have considered Eric’s text asking her to contact Daisy as important.
The tuba ringtone played again.
“Want me to get it for you?” Tessa asked. “I can put it on speaker.”
“Sure, go ahead.”
“Larissa?” Tessa said when she answered. “This is Tessa Miller. I’m with Daisy and she’s driving so I’m putting you on speaker.”
“All right,” Larissa said. “What do you want to talk to me about? When Eric texted me, he said this was about Reese’s fall.”
“Yes, it is,” Daisy assured her. “Can you tell me what happened?”
“He went out for a jog, tripped on something, and fell. He wrenched his knee horribly. Thank goodness, he had his phone with him and he called an ortho friend. Stan brought a brace to him and helped him get home, then to the ER. That same week he had arthroscopic surgery but he had a hard time with recuperation. Even after physical therapy his leg would get fatigued and pain him on long surgery days.”
“Do you know how long he was on pain medication?” Daisy inquired.
“I have no idea. By that time, we were growing apart. I know he stopped going to his doctor, but I still saw him taking pain medication. For some reason, I thought he’d switched to over-the-counter pills, but I’m not sure. I do remember seeing both around.”
Daisy’s shoulder still gave her a twinge of pain when she overused it. “Injuries can change a person. I had an injury and I’ve been much more impatient since then. Do you think Reese’s personality changed from before his fall until after his fall?”
“It sure did change,” Larissa said with certainty. “At first I
thought it was the pain from surgery, and then the pain from PT. But even after he was on his feet and back performing operations again, he wasn’t the same. It’s one of the reasons we broke up. He became short-tempered and overreacted at the littlest thing.”
“Is it possible that was from the painkillers?” Tessa asked.
There was silence in the car as both women waited for Larissa’s answer. Finally his ex-wife answered Tessa. “I never thought about it. Sure, you see on TV that people on drugs are like a different person after they start using. I didn’t really think about that. After all, he had prescriptions.”
“It’s possible he was writing his own prescriptions,” Daisy suggested.
“I never even considered that either!” Larissa seemed totally surprised. “Oh my gosh, what are you thinking? Are you thinking he left us because he was an addict?”
“It’s possible he left because he didn’t want to ruin your life or Eric’s.”
“But we could have helped him.”
“Could you have?” Tessa inquired softly. “If he was an addict, could you really have helped him?”
“I’m going to give this information to the detective on the case,” Daisy told Larissa. “I’m sure he’ll get to the bottom of it.”
“Do you think Reese was murdered because of drugs?”
“Not necessarily,” Daisy answered. “There are a lot of loose ends. But the pain medication could have altered his judgment as far as surgeries went. That could be why the lawsuit happened.”
“Because he was foggy or something?”
“Quite possibly. But I think he got clean. Did Eric tell you about his portrait?”
“No. I knew Reese had painted one and he took it with him when he left.”
“On the back of it, Reese had taped a prescription for hydrocodone. It’s possible that, every once in a while, he wanted to turn that painting around and remind himself of what he’d done or what his life had been. As I said, the detective will probably get to the bottom of this.”
“Does Eric know all about this?” Larissa asked.
“He’s smart,” Tessa said. “He saw the prescription on the back of his portrait. I’m sure he’s putting two and two together.”
“Reese pulled out half of his savings and half of his retirement money. He left the rest of it and the house for me. It’s why I didn’t contest the divorce when I thought he’d deserted us. Everything went through our lawyers. We didn’t even talk. That was a mistake. Maybe he didn’t desert us. Maybe he left because he loved us.”
Daisy intended to leave Larissa with that hope.
* * *
When Daisy checked on Tessa and Eric at the gallery the next day, she found them packing up artists’ work rather than finishing with Reese’s apartment.
Tessa was bubble-wrapping a painting. “Memories were getting to us both.”
Working in tandem, Eric unrolled some of the packing tape and went around the painting as Tessa held it. “I didn’t realize I remembered so much. Just finding Dad’s key ring with old keys on it made me remember coming home from Little League practice. He’d put me on his shoulders, open the door, and then say, ‘Duck, we’re going in.’” Eric shook his head.
“In a little while you’re going to treasure those memories,” Daisy assured him. “And they won’t hurt so much.”
After a glance around the room at what she still had to do, Tessa sighed. “I have to move at least half of this to a storage unit. In the long run, it will be more economical for the artists to pick up their work there than for me to package them to mail.”
Eric picked up a smaller painting to wrap next and made eye contact with Daisy. “Do you think you can find out anything more about my dad and the pain medication? I talked to Mom last night after she spoke with you. She explained what you all felt was going on.”
“I’m not sure who to contact, or how to find out if he went into rehab,” Daisy admitted.
Eric looked pensive for a moment. “Do you know anybody who had contact with him when he first came to Willow Creek?”
Reese’s son was smart. “That’s a good idea.”
Tessa propped a large painting against the wall. “What about Abner Cogley? That’s who Reese rented the gallery from.”
“You have an idea there,” Daisy said.
“He has an office over on Maple Avenue,” Tessa told her. “But do you mind talking with him? I have to deal with him about vacating the premises, and I lose my temper quickly these days. I know you’d be more tactful.”
“Give me his exact address. I’ll call Iris and see if the tea garden’s busy, and if not, I’ll just walk over there right now.”
Twenty minutes later Daisy had briskly walked to the two hundred block of Maple Avenue. It was a side street with row houses that were three stories high. She easily found the one that said Cogley Enterprises. She wasn’t sure what enterprises he had, but that really didn’t matter.
Opening the door, she walked into a reception area. A young man who looked to be in his early thirties with brown hair slicked back from his forehead was tapping keys on a keyboard. As soon as he heard Daisy’s footsteps, he looked up. “Can I help you?”
Noticing his name—Ray Coolidge—on a nameplate at the front of the desk, she smiled. “My name is Daisy Swanson and I wondered if I could speak to Mr. Cogley for a few minutes. I don’t have an appointment, but I’m hoping he’s in.”
“He’s in, but he could be on a conference call. Let me check.” Going to the door behind his desk, Ray listened at it and then rapped softly.
“Come in,” a male voice called.
The receptionist opened the door. “Mr. Cogley, there’s a woman here. Her name is Daisy Swanson. She would like to talk to you for a few minutes. Is that possible?”
“Mrs. Swanson, from the tea garden?”
The receptionist looked at her and she nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“Send her in, Ray.”
By the time Daisy stood in the doorway, Cogley was on his feet and rounding his desk. He was wearing a red and black plaid shirt with a black tie and black pants. His stomach protruded over his belt. He had a short nose and close-set eyes. His brows almost met. His dark brown, combed-over hair still looked as if the color was fake.
He extended his hand to her. “I’ve been in your tea garden now and again, but I’ve never met you personally. It’s a pleasure.”
Ruthless in business but charming in public relations? Daisy wondered. She shook his hand, which was pudgy and a bit clammy. She pulled hers away quickly. “Thank you for seeing me.”
He motioned to the utilitarian leather chair at the front side of his desk while he returned to his seat behind the desk. “What can I do to help you? Do you need to rent a property? Are you thinking about expanding the tea garden?”
“No, Mr. Cogley, neither of those. As you know, Tessa Miller works for me.”
“The executor of Reese Masemer’s will.”
“Yes, but she’s more than an executor. She loved Reese.”
“Are you here to ask for an extension for her to vacate the gallery? Because I’m a businessman, Mrs. Swanson, and I can’t just—”
“Oh, no. Tessa understands she needs to be out. I’m here for another reason. We discovered some things about Reese that Tessa didn’t know, and we have some questions.”
Cogley sat back in his chair and folded his hands over his stomach. “I didn’t know Masemer that well. I just rented him the property.”
“That’s what we have a question about. Eric, Reese’s son, is helping Tessa pack things up. Apparently, Reese left his family suddenly, at least suddenly to them, and Eric is trying to figure out why. He needs some answers, just as Tessa does.”
“I still don’t understand how I can help you.”
“Can I merely ask you about some of your observations?”
“Of Masemer?”
“Yes. Can you remember when Reese came to town and rented the property? Can you tell me how he appe
ared physically?”
Cogley’s brow wrinkled. “You mean whether he looked well or not?”
“Exactly.”
Cogley didn’t even hesitate. “He looked wiped out and haggard. He was sweating, too, like he had a fever that was breaking. I told him we could sign the papers another time but he insisted he wanted to do it right away.”
“How soon did you see him again?”
Putting his fingers to his brow, Cogley said, “Oh, let me think. He did move immediately into the apartment above the gallery, and he didn’t come out for about a week.” The man sat up straighter in his chair. “I know because I went by to check on renovations he said he wanted to make. No renovations had started and he wouldn’t come out of his apartment. Through the door he said he had the flu or something contagious. He didn’t want to give it to me. But standing outside the door, I heard a woman’s voice in there. So I just figured he was having a rendezvous. It was about two weeks after that when he called me to tell me he’d hired a contractor to make some changes in the gallery. The work was going to start immediately. I asked him how he was feeling, and he said much better.”
Two weeks to get clean from the hydrocodone?
Cogley went on, “Just to make sure exactly what was happening, I stopped by the property a few days later. A contractor was building a storage space and an office. I saw Masemer. He looked even thinner, maybe a little pale, but he wasn’t sweating. He’d just had lunch delivered from Dutch’s and he was eating. So I assumed he’d recuperated from whatever had ailed him. Does that help at all?”
“It might.” Daisy stood to leave. “Thank you so much for talking to me. The next time you stop in at the tea garden, just ask for me. I’ll make sure you receive a complimentary scone and tea.”
“That’s mighty kind of you, Mrs. Swanson.” At the doorway he said to his receptionist, “Why don’t you see Mrs. Swanson out?”
Ray nodded to his boss and then walked her to the door. “Thank you for fitting me into his schedule,” she said.
Murder with Cinnamon Scones Page 20
