“Not Emory?” Rappaport asked.
“I’m not sure, but Jonas was the one who connected with Emory while I talked with Piper.”
“What exactly did you talk about?”
“I told Piper about my experience in adopting Jazzi. I could see Piper was torn up by what had happened at the clinic. After she walked away, Jonas and I were talking when, all of a sudden, we started hearing chanting. It was coming from the protestors as they began marching toward the tents. I think everyone there became a bit frazzled if not outright scared. Jonas dialed dispatch and eventually you all showed up. Eli called for Hiram. Your officers took Eli to the station. I guess Hiram was going to follow. Before he did, he and Emory got involved in a discussion.”
“A discussion or an argument?” Rappaport questioned sternly. “I want to know exactly what he said. Don’t fudge on me, Daisy. I know you have a steel-trap memory.”
“I don’t have to remember,” she said acerbically. “It was recorded for posterity and televised. He told Hiram that he was a miserable man for defending the clinic.”
“And?” Rappaport prompted, using his hands in a go-ahead motion that coaxed her to continue.
“And,” she said hesitantly, “Emory said someone should make sure that Hiram couldn’t defend the clinic.”
“Well, at least I know you’re reliable. The tape showed exactly what you’ve told me. Do you think Emory Wagner is a hothead?”
“I don’t know him well enough to say that. But, detective, the Wagners are upset by what happened at the clinic. Any couple would be.”
“So tell me exactly why Emory was so upset.”
“Piper thinks Emory is thinking mostly about the expense for in vitro. That’s a big part of it. But the experience they went through is what is so frustrating. They had hopes and dreams and all the emotions that come with having a family. Piper endured the hormone injections.”
She studied the detective. “Do you have any idea what that’s like?”
When he didn’t comment, she went on. “I imagine she had mood swings, hot flashes, feeling not at all like herself.” When Rappaport was still silent, Daisy revealed, “During the couple’s next session with their doctor, the embryos were going to be implanted. They’d spent two years trying to get pregnant. They’d had tests. They borrowed money for in vitro. Overnight all of their plans and hopes were dashed. How do you think you’d feel about that?”
“I know exactly how I’d feel about that,” Rappaport responded with a grave look. “That’s why I asked you about Emory’s fuse.”
“All the other couples who lost embryos would be just as upset, Detective.”
“Oh, I know that. And we are checking into other couples. But I wanted to get your take on this whole thing. I can’t tell you everything I know, but I know you’ll tell me whatever you know. Won’t you?”
Daisy realized that Detective Rappaport was being careful because police policy was supposed to forbid having civilians help to solve cases. But she and Rappaport had found peace with each other. He told her as much as he could, and she helped him with whatever she found out.
Business out of the way, Rappaport picked up a whoopie pie and ate it within two big bites. Then he took a few swallows of iced tea. He smiled at her. “Super good as always. Better than donuts.”
She shook her head at him.
“It’s good to see Zeke and Jonas are friends again,” Rappaport commented. “I know the whole thing was hard for you and Jonas, and you almost broke up because of it. But it all ended up good in the end, don’t you think?”
The detective was right that she and Jonas had almost broken up over Jonas’s beleaguered friendship with Zeke. Zeke Willet and Jonas had worked on the Philadelphia police force together. But circumstances involving Jonas’s partner had decimated the men’s friendship. However, in the spring, Jonas had jumped in front of a bullet for Zeke. Grateful, Zeke had realized that they were still friends.
“I’m glad to see you care about their friendship,” she said to Rappaport. “I believe Jonas sees you as a father figure. Since Jonas’s dad was killed in the line of duty, he missed a role model growing up.” When Detective Rappaport had come to town, Jonas and he had bonded.
“I’m nobody’s father figure,” Rappaport snapped.
“Then maybe you’re simply a good friend . . . to both me and Jonas.”
Rappaport lifted another whoopie pie from the plate, gave her a look that said she might be right, then ate it quickly and licked his fingers.
* * *
The music store, Guitars and Vinyl, was just that . . . filled with plenty of guitars and lots of vinyl. On her break, Jazzi had convinced Daisy to come with her into the store. Vinyl records appeared to fascinate Jazzi. She’d even purchased a turntable and speakers with her own money and set it up in her bedroom.
Double doors led into the shop where it was divided into two. To the left any musician interested in a guitar could find a model or brand—old or new—to suit him. On the right side of the shop, vintage vinyl records that Daisy suspected had seen better days served as wall decorations under posters of the Beatles, the Dave Clark Five, Heart, the Bee Gees, and others who had made their music memorable on the vinyl records. In the main floor space on that side, bins and bins and bins labeled with artists or recording labels were lined up beside each other.
It didn’t take long for Daisy to realize that Jazzi wasn’t just interested in the vinyl records but in the young man behind the counter who was sorting inventory.
Daisy knew Ned Pachenko. She’d met him through her son-in-law Foster. She’d planned a musical tea at the tea garden especially for children and Ned had been the guitarist she’d hired. But Ned had caught the flu and Gavin had taken over for him. Foster’s dad was a man of many talents.
Daisy saw Ned now and then when he came into the tea garden with Foster and Vi. The young man was in his early twenties and good-looking in a surfer kind of way. His hair was blond and curly and those curls dipped over the back neck of his Grateful Dead T-shirt.
Daisy wanted to ask Ned for a favor. But she’d wait until Jazzi did her thing.
Jazzi went up to Ned, told him what she was interested in, and he pointed her to a specific bin.
He wasn’t ignoring Daisy, however. He asked, “Have you planned any more children’s teas? Foster told me that was a onetime deal.”
At the counter, she peered into the case that held vintage records worth more than those in the bins. “It went over really well, so I plan to do it again.” She glanced up at him, seeing that he might be interested in providing the entertainment. “I’m not sure when . . . maybe in the fall as we’re gearing up for the holidays. The truth is, I haven’t had time to sit down and plan the calendar. But I did want to ask you if you’re free for the Fourth of July. I’m having an outside tea garden event. Would you consider playing while my customers eat and drink tea?”
Ned grinned at her. “I’m free. That would be a great gig.”
“I’ll call you about it closer to the Fourth to discuss it,” she assured him.
Jazzi glanced over her shoulder at Ned. “She hasn’t had much time for events because she’s been involved in a murder investigation again.”
Ned blinked, apparently unsure what his response should be.
Daisy felt herself flush, but she couldn’t chide Jazzi for telling the truth.
Finally, Ned gave a shrug, as if the news wasn’t too strange. “Foster told me some of the things that have happened to you.” He said to Jazzi, “I think your mom has a ton of courage.”
“She does,” Jazzi agreed, then delved into the bin with the records once more, as if Daisy’s involvement in murder cases wasn’t a big deal. Daisy took this opportunity to wander about the shop, listening in on Jazzi’s conversation with Ned. She wasn’t ashamed to admit she wanted to know what Jazzi’s musical interests were . . . and if her daughter really did have a crush on this young musician. A crush was one thing, but real interest w
as another.
After Jazzi pulled a Gene Pitney album from the bin, she pointed over to the guitars. “Am I too old to learn to play a guitar?”
Ned vehemently shook his head. “You’re never too old to learn. My own dad taught himself to play the piano by learning chords when he was fifty. Anything’s possible.”
Daisy appreciated that philosophy. She wondered if Jazzi was seriously thinking about learning how to play a guitar or if she was just making conversation.
When Jazzi moved to another bin, Ned approached Daisy. “Foster told me you were at that social thing when the protestors charged the tents.”
Daisy stopped by a bin labeled UK 60S BANDS. “I was. I was glad Jazzi wasn’t there. It was a bit terrifying.”
“I can imagine. I saw it all unfold on the news.”
Ned’s body language told Daisy that he had more to say. So she waited.
He gazed out the front window for a few seconds then returned his focus to her. “A couple of the protestors came in here a few days ago.”
Daisy gave him her full attention. “How did you know it was them?”
He put his hand to his chin and rubbed across it. “I saw TV footage when the protestors pulled off their masks. A clip of that was only shown on the late-night news.”
Daisy had only watched those portions that had been most televised. She didn’t remember seeing the protestors unmask themselves because she would have been interested in identifying them. “Did they talk about what had happened when they came into the store?”
“I overhear a lot just standing at the counter,” Ned admitted.
“Anything important?” If Ned had learned facts new to the investigation, they could be important.
“For the most part it sounded like the protestors were just backing Eli.”
“I don’t understand. You mean because he doesn’t believe the homeless shelter should go forward?”
“I’m not sure that’s all there was to it. One of them said Eli wanted to preserve that particular chunk of land for himself. He was saving to buy it before the owner decided to donate it for the homeless shelter. The protestors were just backing him up.”
Daisy understood the idea that land was important to the Amish for many reasons. They made a living farming it, though the plot for the homeless shelter wasn’t large enough for that. Still, families handed property down to their children so they could live on it, farm it, or start other businesses. The land had to do with generations working the earth, raising food on it, making a life on it. Tradition and history had a lot to do with each family’s idea of what their property meant to them.
“Did Eli want to build a house on it?”
“From what I understood, Eli is thinking about opening a buggy shop so the Amish don’t have to travel to Bird in Hand or even farther afield.”
A buggy shop? That didn’t seem to go along with Eli leaving his district and his family for another type of life. It seemed odd to Daisy that Eli left his faith but yet in the discussion they’d had, he seemed to be leaning toward it again. Was he thinking about confessing before his bishop and congregation and once again returning to his roots?
It seemed that Eli was a lot more complicated than anybody knew. Had Hiram understood that? Did Eli’s ambition have anything to do with Hiram’s death?
CHAPTER EIGHT
When Brielle Horn came charging into the tea garden on Thursday morning, Daisy guessed the young woman thought she was late for her shift. She wasn’t late. She was right on time. However, after a second look at Brielle, Daisy studied the expression on the teen’s face. Brielle looked angry enough to bite the tail from a snake. Daisy didn’t know where that comparison had come from.
Brielle slipped past the sales desk and into Daisy’s office where a cubby was located for servers to store their backpacks. Brielle was down on the floor stuffing hers into the square when Daisy entered behind her.
Brielle didn’t move. Daisy hadn’t tried to keep quiet and she was sure Brielle could hear her. But Brielle remained still as if after she pushed her backpack into the cubbyhole, she’d become frozen.
“Brielle,” Daisy said softly.
There was no response.
Daisy slowly walked up behind her. “Brielle?” she called again.
Brielle swiveled around, still in the hunkered down position. When she blew her pink bangs away from her eyes, Daisy could see the redness there and the evidence of tears. This girl wasn’t angry . . . she was terribly sad.
Daisy stooped down to Brielle and held out her hand. “Come on, honey. Talk to me.”
For a moment, Brielle still didn’t move. Then she tilted down her head as if she didn’t want Daisy to see her tears. Finally she took Daisy’s hand and let Daisy help her up.
Daisy rolled her desk chair over to Brielle. She pulled the other wooden straight-back chair close to the office chair until her knees were almost touching Brielle’s after the teen sat. “What’s going on?” She asked the question though she thought she might know the answer.
The angry expression had returned to Brielle’s face and she balled her hands into fists in her lap. “My mother and father had a meeting with me this morning.”
Daisy understood that must have been an early meeting.
As if Brielle had read her thoughts, she explained, “Apparently Dad had to leave on a business trip. So over croissants, he told me that he and Mom are getting a divorce. They acted so stoic about it as if they were telling me their jobs were changing or something and we had to move to a different state. That I was used to. But a divorce?”
“Brielle, this didn’t come as a complete surprise to you, did it?”
Daisy had reason to believe that it wasn’t a surprise at all.
“I know when I came to stay with you and Jazzi in March and my parents were taking that trip, I was afraid they were thinking about splitting up. But then when I moved in with Grammy, I thought they’d have the house to themselves. They could forget about me and remember why they got married in the first place. They could fix things.”
Daisy wasn’t sure what to say to Brielle to help her process this. She knew Brielle thought her world was falling apart, and maybe it was.
“Do you think if I hadn’t moved out, they’d still be together?” Brielle asked plaintively.
Daisy tapped Brielle’s balled fist. “Honey, take three deep breaths for me. Please.”
Brielle blinked as if she didn’t understand what Daisy had said.
“Three deep breaths. Come on,” Daisy encouraged. “You can’t think straight if you’re not pushing oxygen to your brain.”
Because she looked puzzled, Brielle followed Daisy’s directions. When she did, her hands relaxed, her shoulders sank down a little and she looked as if she might cry again.
Looking straight into Brielle’s eyes, Daisy assured her, “This is not your fault.”
“But I—”
“Brielle, listen to me. This situation, whatever it is, whether it results in divorce or not, is between your mom and your dad. Whether you stayed or went, whether you lived with your grandmother or came to live with me and Jazzi, whether you got a job or didn’t, whether you stay in school or don’t . . . none of that has anything to do with what’s going on with your mom and dad. Couples have their stuff separate from their children. Sure, the kids are involved, but it starts with the parents.”
“They acted like they didn’t care about each other. They acted like they didn’t care about me! They just had an announcement to make.”
Like most parents, when Daisy had had Vi, she hadn’t known how to parent, not in any book-learning way. She hadn’t been very close to her mom then. Ryan’s mom who had since died had told Daisy, “All you can do is love her to the best of your ability. Treat her like the beautiful little creature she is and she’ll love you back.” Vi did love her back and so did Jazzi. She’d treated them both with all the love in her heart and all the kindness she could ever gather. She’d also raised them with h
onesty and she believed that had a lot to do with everything else.
As honestly as she could, she said, “I don’t know your dad. I’ve only had one conversation with him before you came to stay with me and Jazzi. But I’ve gotten to know your mom a little better. She does care about you. My guess is she’s hurting as much as you are. You need to talk to her about what you’re feeling and about what the future might bring for both of you.”
“There’s no need to talk about the future,” Brielle said stubbornly. “I’m staying with Grammy and that’s it. What does Mom care what I do? She’s so busy working.”
“Weren’t your mom and dad partners in the law firm?”
As if Brielle hadn’t thought about that, she nodded. “Yes, they were. I don’t know what will happen now.”
“I imagine it would be very difficult to work with someone who you’re divorcing,” Daisy offered. “So your mom isn’t only losing her marriage, she’s also losing a work partner. She probably has to make all kinds of decisions about her professional life. Did you think of that?”
“No,” Brielle answered sullenly.
“The last time I spoke to your mom, I think she was worried about you and college. She’d like you to attend one.”
“I can’t.”
“You’re smart and you have decent grades. I’m sure there’s something you want to do with your future. Why can’t you think about college?”
“I can’t think about it because I have to take care of Grammy. I’m not going to leave her on her own. Not now. Not ever.”
That was the hurt little girl in Brielle talking. Yet Daisy knew Brielle’s intellect and her creative side would want to expand her horizons. If she stayed with her grandmother out of loyalty, what would happen to the way she thought about family? Would it be good for her? Or would it be better if she and Nola Horn and Glorie Beck came up with a solution that would suit all of them?
* * *
Daisy was curious how all was going at Jonas’s store as he and his friend Elijah readied for their special sale. She hadn’t seen much of him since their visit to Wheels. As he finished furniture pieces, met with other crafters, and thought about the arrangement of furniture in Elijah’s barn, he’d worked long hours. He’d shown her a floor plan and hoped to stick to it.
Murder with Orange Pekoe Tea Page 9
