Murder with Cinnamon Scones

by Karen Rose Smith

  This visit was very different from her last one. She was awake, conscious, and didn’t have a headache, just stitches in her arm. It had been a flesh wound.

  Facing the detective squarely as well as his comment about being lucky, she asked, “Just what is that supposed to mean?”

  Suddenly Jonas was standing in the door to her cubicle, eyeing both her and the detective. “Tessa called me,” he said. “She told me what happened.”

  Daisy motioned to the detective. “He’s acting as if this is my fault.”

  Wisely, Jonas kept silent.

  “Isn’t it?” Rappaport shot back. “You were at the crime scene.”

  “It’s not a crime scene any more. Tessa was sketching there.”

  “Detective, I don’t mean to barge in,” Jonas said quietly, “but I don’t think the crime scene had anything to do with it. I think someone followed either Tessa or Daisy to the bed-and-breakfast.”

  Rappaport brushed that idea away with his hand. After a glance at Jonas, he eyed Daisy. “It could be that a hunter got you.”

  Daisy’s gaze met Jonas’s and she knew he didn’t believe that any more than she did.

  “Someone tried to frame Tessa for the murder,” she reminded Detective Rappaport. “And now for some reason, he or she thinks she’s a threat. She’s going to need a personal bodyguard. There are quite a few suspects—Dutch, Reese’s ex-wife or son, even Reese’s patient’s husband.”

  “You think an out-of-towner did this?” Rappaport asked.

  “Pittsburgh isn’t that far,” Jonas offered.

  “Just where would a sixteen-year-old get a rifle?” Rappaport asked.

  “I don’t know,” Daisy replied. “Do you know if Reese had guns before he left Pittsburgh? For all you know, there’s a gun case in the basement with an assortment of weapons.”

  “I don’t have probable cause to give the Pittsburgh PD for a search warrant.”

  After a sensitive pause, sorting through the thoughts in her head, Daisy said, “We might be asking the wrong questions.”

  “There’s no we in this,” Rappaport concluded hotly.

  Daisy ignored him. “If Tessa was dead, who would benefit? Why shoot Tessa?”

  If Tessa was dead, Eric would inherit the entire estate. Apparently, Jonas could easily see the path her thoughts were taking.

  “If Tessa died, and she was the executor . . .” Daisy trailed off.

  Jonas took her thought a step ahead. “Maybe as executor, Tessa might find a clue as to the murderer when looking through Reese’s things. Let’s say if a bank handled it, and I think the bank was the second option for executor if Tessa couldn’t perform the duties, someone impersonal might not notice whatever clue might be there.”

  “That’s far-fetched,” Rappaport disagreed.

  “Then how about this?” Jonas asked. “What if Tessa wasn’t the target? What if Daisy was the target?”

  Complete silence filled the room. Both men studied Daisy.

  “What do you know that the killer doesn’t want you to know?” Detective Rappaport asked.

  After a sigh, Daisy shook her head. “I have no idea.”

  A few minutes later after Detective Rappaport left, Jonas sat on the gurney next to Daisy. “You’re going to be sprung out of here in a few minutes. Tessa went to the tea garden to talk to Aunt Iris and the staff. She’s going to tell them you had a little accident so they don’t worry.”

  “Better they think I’m dopey than in danger.”

  Jonas took her hand and squeezed it.

  “Everybody’s going to be too busy today and the rest of the weekend to listen too carefully to a story I’m going to have to make up.” She sighed. “What is going on, Jonas? Who do you think did this?”

  “As you mentioned, there are a few suspects. But I’ll tell you this. I’m going to stick close to you this weekend.”

  “I’m going to be at the tea garden most of the time, and so will Tessa.”

  “That’s good. And Jazzi will be with you too?”

  “Tomorrow after school and Saturday. She’s spending Sunday with her grandparents. Do you think I should tell her what really happened?”

  “Jazzi’s a smart cookie. She’ll know you’re holding something back if you don’t tell her.”

  “I suppose you’re right. But I don’t want her to be scared.”

  “And I don’t want to scare you,” Jonas said.

  “But?”

  “I think the killer is getting desperate to cover his or her tracks. Between planting evidence in Tessa’s apartment and the shooting today, somebody’s fearful he or she is going to be discovered. Because of that, there’s a good chance the murderer will make a mistake. We’ll just have to be ready for it.”

  Daisy hopped off the gurney. “I’m going to go find my discharge papers.” She had to get back to work.

  Work was the only thing that was going to save her this weekend from thinking about catching a murderer.

  * * *

  Happy she was too busy to be nervous on Saturday afternoon, Daisy moved from table to table at the tea garden, making sure every guest who had bought a ticket to tea was satisfied with their service. Emma Zook’s daughters had joined everyone on her regular staff to make the service less taxing. All of her tea drinkers had been given a special menu of tea blends, from Rosy Day, which was a green tea blended with rose petals, to Winterfest—a black tea mixed with cloves, cinnamon, and orange peel, to Daisy’s Blend—a decaffeinated green tea infused with raspberry and vanilla. There were many more, but those were the most popular today.

  They had begun the first course with cheddar bisque, a creamy, cheesy soup. The second course had been cinnamon scones accompanied by a nutmeg-infused butter. A ribbon salad with fresh strawberries and walnuts had been served next. Now with the fourth course, the guests were presented tiered plates that held crab puffs, egg salad sandwiches, and small triangle sandwiches with turkey and Swiss on rye. There was actually a lull as the tea room guests made their choices and ate the petite sandwiches while they sipped tea.

  Daisy was checking on cleanup in the kitchen and the plating of the last course, which was desserts, when Foster joined her by the dishwasher.

  His glasses sat high on the bridge of his nose and his eyes looked serious as he stood beside her and kept his voice low. “I have something to tell you.”

  At first Daisy wondered if Foster was going to quit because of Gavin’s idea that she was a bad influence on him. But then he pointed to her arm. She’d worn a long-sleeved red sweater with black slacks, and of course her Daisy’s Tea Garden apron on top. The gauze that laid over her stitches made a slight bump under the sweater. “I wanted to tell you how sorry I am that happened to you. I’m watching over you along with Tessa as Jonas asked me to.”

  Foster had known the truth about what happened because Jazzi had told Vi and Vi had confided her worry to Foster. “Nothing’s going to happen here,” Daisy assured him.

  “I’ll try to make sure of that.” He looked down at his shoes for a moment, then back up at her. “I talked to my dad. You getting hurt reminded me that I’d lost one parent and I didn’t want to lose the other one.”

  “How did it go?”

  “All right, I guess.” Foster’s mouth quirked up in a small smile. “He must have missed me.”

  “Of course he missed you! I’m sure Ben and your sister did too.”

  “I told him I want to pay room and board, and I want to be treated like another adult living in the house. He said he’ll figure out what I should pay him, and he’ll try to treat me like an adult.”

  Daisy attempted to hide her smile. “I’m glad you settled it. Did you move back home?”

  Foster nodded. “Jonas has been great about everything.”

  Iris called from the doorway. “Daisy, our guests are asking when you’re going to announce the raffle winners.”

  Daisy motioned to the plates that Eva, Cora Sue, and Tessa were readying. “As soon as we serv
e dessert, I’ll announce the winners.”

  “I’ll spread the word,” Iris told her.

  Karina entered the kitchen, and she and Foster began putting dessert plates on trays to carry out to the tea rooms. On each plate sat a small shoofly tart, a peanut butter cookie, and a slice of hazelnut cake.

  Daisy stood in the doorway of both tea rooms ready to announce the two raffle winners when the front door opened and Chloie Laird stepped inside. Daisy groaned inwardly. Tessa, who had come out to stand behind the sales counter for the announcement, stood stock-still in surprise as Chloie unsteadily made her way forward. Daisy suspected she had been drinking something other than tea.

  Chloie pointed to Tessa and yelled, “You don’t deserve a cent of Reese’s money. I should have been executor. I’m the one who knows everything about the works in the gallery and Reese’s clients.”

  Since Tessa seemed frozen on the spot, Daisy stepped toward Chloie. “You don’t want to do this here,” she determined in a quiet, calm voice.

  “Where else am I going to do it?” Chloie yelled. “Tessa was just the flavor of the month. I could have been executor. I could have had twenty-five percent of Reese’s estate. I could have started my own business.”

  A few of the tea tasters were obviously put off by Chloie’s behavior. They stood and headed for the door. Others seemed to be fascinated and were looking back and forth from Tessa to Chloie, maybe hoping for more fireworks.

  Daisy knew she could be asking for trouble, but she was hoping Chloie’s grief had just gotten the best of her.

  Stepping close to Chloie, she kept her voice low. “I know you miss Reese. I know your heart hurts. But I don’t think you want people to remember you or him like this.” She circled Chloie’s shoulders with her arm. “Come on, Chloie. I think you need fresh air.”

  Daisy beckoned to Karina, who she knew had an attitude as if she wasn’t afraid of anything. She asked Karina, “Can you walk Chloie up and down the street so she can get her bearings?”

  Karina nodded, took Chloie by the elbow, and led her to the door.

  Cora Sue rushed to Karina with her coat. Karina thanked her and led Chloie out.

  To Daisy’s dismay, however, she noticed several women had their cell phones out and had apparently recorded the whole scene. Just what she needed—someone uploading it to social media.

  Quickly she raised her voice. “I’m going to announce the raffle winners now. I have their names right in my pocket.”

  Daisy reached into her pocket and pulled out the first winner. “Tara Watson from Camp Hill, PA.”

  Tara, a short woman in her thirties, raised her hand and yelled, “That’s me. Which one did I win?”

  “You won the Double Wedding Ring quilt.”

  The young woman jumped up and down and shouted, “Oh, I can’t believe it. I never win anything.”

  Daisy pulled the second name out of her pocket. “Our second winner is Rena Jacobs from York, PA. Is Rena here?”

  Rena waved both hands above her head. She was an older woman, probably in her fifties, with springy gray hair and bright red glasses. “That means I won the Log Cabin quilt. Oh, my goodness.”

  Raising her voice again above the chatter, Daisy explained, “As soon as you’re finished here, you can pick up your quilts at the Covered Bridge Bed-and-Breakfast. Amelia will have them packaged for you and ready to go.”

  There were a lot of disappointed faces in the room. “I know many of you wish you had won the quilts. I wanted to spread the news that the Tumbling Blocks Inn on Hickory Avenue will be auctioning off two quilts to the highest bidders.” Daisy checked her watch. It was almost three. “The auction will start at three-thirty, which will give you plenty of time to finish your desserts and sip the rest of your tea. Walk down this block and turn left at the intersection onto Hickory. The Tumbling Blocks Inn is one block down.”

  In spite of what had happened, Daisy said, “I hope you’ve enjoyed your afternoon tea with us. We’d be glad to serve you anytime. Please come back again.”

  After many good-byes, and “Everything was delicious,” and “I’ll be back for some of those shoofly tarts,” the tea rooms emptied out fairly quickly. They’d been closed to customers while the afternoon tea had been served, but now Cora Sue turned the OPEN sign around in the window again.

  The first one through the door wasn’t a customer, though. It was Karina. She took off her coat and hung it on the clothes tree in Daisy’s office.

  Daisy went there to talk to her. “How did it go?”

  “Chloie started crying, so I took her into Dutch’s and sat her down and bought her a cup of coffee. She needs lots of coffee.”

  “She wasn’t driving, was she?” Daisy asked.

  “No. She called a friend who came to pick her up.”

  “Thank you so much for handling her. I didn’t want a scene that would be worse than it already was.”

  Foster ran in from the tea room. “I don’t know if this is good news or bad news, but you’re on Twitter and other social media sites. The bad news is you don’t want the tea room to be known for discontent. But, on the other hand, any publicity can be good publicity.”

  Daisy just groaned.

  Tessa had come to join them and just as she was about to give her opinion, her cell phone played from her pocket. She closed her eyes for a moment and Daisy suspected her friend was worried Detective Rappaport was calling again. However, when she glanced at the screen, a puzzled look crossed her face. She took a step away and answered it.

  Two minutes later, shaking her head, she came back to Daisy. “The alarm went off on my storage compartment. Someone cut the padlock. By the time security got there, whoever it was was gone. But now I have to go through the inventory list.”

  Tessa looked at Daisy. “After we close, can you go with me? I’ll get it done a lot faster.”

  Aunt Iris butted in. “Go with her now, Daisy. You’ve both been here since five o’clock this morning. The rest of us will handle cleanup and any customers who wander in. I’ll take Jazzi home with me when I leave.”

  Daisy’s gaze went from her aunt Iris to Foster. “Are you sure?”

  Foster was nodding too. “It’s probably a good idea. Why don’t you text Jonas where you’re going to be. He’ll be worried if he stops in here again and you’re not here.”

  Jonas had stopped in several times during the day to check on her. Each time, she’d given him a thumbs-up sign and he’d left quietly, not wanting to distract from the tea service. She appreciated that thoughtfulness. She appreciated him.

  Crossing to the clothes tree, she plucked off her jacket, then handed Tessa her poncho. “I’ll meet you there. I’ll text Jonas in the car before I leave.”

  After all, she’d be with Tessa. She didn’t need more than one bodyguard. Did she?

  Chapter Nineteen

  Just why had Tessa’s storage locker been broken into? Obviously, there must be something there that the killer wanted. Daisy assumed it was the killer. Was it?

  Tessa met her at the gate that had a key card lock and opened it for her. Anyone who rented a storage space received a key card. This was a small center with maybe fifty units. All of them were eight-by-ten and padlocked shut. Tessa had bought the padlock from the center itself. But bolt cutters could have released the lock.

  Perhaps this break-in had nothing to do with the killer at all. Anyone could know Tessa had stored the contents of the gallery somewhere if they had watched and followed her when she and Eric were packing up.

  Suddenly this puzzle seemed unsolvable.

  As soon as the gate closed, Tessa jumped into Daisy’s car and directed her to her storage locker. The gravel crunched under Daisy’s wheels.

  Tessa was staring out the windshield and appeared lost in thought.

  “Did it look like anything is missing?” Daisy asked.

  “Not at first glance. And I don’t know what to think. Was this a thief who wanted art? Or was this the killer who tried to fra
me me?”

  “I asked myself the same questions and didn’t have an answer. How about you?”

  Tessa shook her head. “All I know is that I’m weary of all of it, and there doesn’t seem to be an end in sight.”

  Five minutes later, Tessa had pushed up the door to her rental locker and Daisy stepped inside. She was glad she’d worn her scarf and had her gloves. It was almost as cold inside the locker as outside of it. Tessa had switched on a high-powered lantern so she could see to do an inventory.

  Before Daisy could ask the question that was in her mind, Tessa answered it. “There isn’t anything in here that the cold will hurt. I sent all the watercolors back to the artists, or else they picked them up. The sculptures, bronzes, and oil paintings will be fine.”

  “Do you have your inventory list? I can check off the items as you call them out.”

  Tessa wore leather gloves that were skintight. She was also wearing a knit hat pulled down over her ears and a scarf around her neck. Her wool poncho almost draped to her ankles with the faux-fur trim. “The security guard said he’d check on us in a little while.”

  “Do you think you should call Rappaport?”

  “What could he do? If I find anything was stolen, I’ll call him. Let’s get this over with so we both can go home and get warm.”

  Most art pieces were boxed so their owners could pick them up or Tessa could send them. As Tessa called out an ID number and a description, Daisy checked off a two-foot tall vase painted with cattails. As Tessa unboxed the next item, Daisy reboxed the one before it. The system worked well and they were soon halfway down the list.

  Next they checked off a ceramic lamp, the base appearing to be an Amish hat. It was simple yet profound. It was kind of ironic, too, since Amish didn’t use electricity. Even New Order Amish used gas lamps and battery-powered lanterns.

  There were several painted and shellacked gourds. A few resembled cats, others resembled snowmen. Some were simply artistic in nature, painted with a pineapple or flowers. There was a hand-carved and painted door topper depicting an Amish scene. Tessa also carefully unpacked blown glass vases and compotes. Swirled colors inside the glass made each piece unique.