Murder with Orange Pekoe Tea

by Karen Rose Smith

  “My weakness for these must show.” He picked up his napkin and wiped his lips.

  “I’m glad you like the cookies. Jonas does too.”

  “Chocolate and coffee. What’s not to like? Do you have time to join me?”

  Everything seemed calm for the moment. She pulled out a chair and sat across from him. “Did my cookies bring you back so soon?”

  “Your cookies could do that, and maybe your tea too. But I wanted to let you in on what happened.”

  She was all ears and Marshall could see that.

  Reaching for his glass of iced tea, he took a few swallows and set it back down. “Troy Richter called me.”

  “Is he back?”

  “No, he’s not. That in itself is cause for concern. He’s still in the Cayman Islands.”

  Daisy was almost literally on the edge of her seat. “So what did he want?”

  “He’s trying to convince me to take over the defense of the clinic.”

  “Seriously? Defense against the class action suit?”

  “Whatever suits develop. He heard about the Philadelphia lawyer the clients of the clinic hired. The truth is I don’t want to take on the Hope Clinic as a client. I believe Hiram was killed for a reason and it has something to do with that clinic. I don’t want to touch it with the proverbial ten-foot pole.”

  “What did you tell Troy?”

  “I told him the truth—the clinic needs to settle.”

  “That would mean a sum of money for each of the clients who lost embryos or eggs.”

  “Exactly. As well as the in vitro process funds themselves. Those people deserve to have their money back for a process that didn’t happen.” Marshall’s gaze held an understanding of what had happened to the couples as well as the clinic’s responsibility in the matter. He picked up another cookie and swallowed it in three bites.

  It looked to Daisy as if he were stress eating. That surprised her. “How did Troy respond?”

  “He said he doesn’t want to settle. If he refunds in vitro fees and gives free services, the clinic can’t afford that. It will have to close.”

  “So what’s his plan? Drag this out in court for years? That would cost him too.” Daisy could see there were no good solutions for the clinic but there were ethical ones.

  “I pointed that out but he had a solution.”

  “I can’t imagine what that would be.”

  “As far as he’s concerned, he wants to put all the blame on the tech in charge when it happened. He wants to let his clients go after that person. Apparently that’s what Hiram was going to do.”

  “That’s a terrible idea!”

  “That’s what I told him. Then I finally got the truth out of him.”

  Just thinking about that vulnerable tech upset Daisy. “What truth was that?”

  “He’s still away because he’s afraid the person who went after Hiram will come after him. After all, he knows who the tech was who caused the accident.”

  “Do the police know? Whoever that tech is could also be the one who killed Hiram.”

  “Troy said he’s keeping his mouth shut.”

  If Troy stayed away and the police didn’t know who caused the accident, would they ever be able to solve the question of who killed Hiram Hershberger?

  CHAPTER TEN

  After they parked, Daisy and Jonas held hands as they headed for the firehouse social hall on Saturday evening. This time of year, carnivals were a big part of summer fun in the area. The firehouse’s social hall would be serving a chicken potpie dinner to make money for the volunteer fire company. To the rear of the building where there was a plot of land, a carnival was set up that also brought in much needed funds. For entertainment, the carnival organizers had erected a Ferris wheel as well as children’s rides—cars that ran around in a circle on a track and ladybugs that did the same. There were two rides for the older kids—a spin-and-turn that shook them up and then turned them in a circle, and swings that flew higher than any swing should.

  Interspersed among the rides were stands—the usual ones with stacked bowling pins and softballs to try to knock them over as well as ducks that swam around in a ring with numbers on the bottom that signified what prize the entrant would receive. There was a shooting range, a pretend one of course, where shooters could knock down targets that would give them points, again all adding up to a prize. Food trucks and booths sold corn dogs, burgers, fries, cotton candy, and funnel cakes, as well as taffy apples and caramel corn.

  Before they explored the carnival, Daisy and Jonas had decided to enjoy the potpie dinner. As they stepped inside, he leaned into her shoulder. “This dinner won’t be as good as yours or your mom’s.”

  She poked him. “You thought you had to say that, right?”

  He gave her one of those innocent boyish looks. “Of course not. I meant it.”

  Daisy’s Aunt Iris was a member of the Women’s Auxiliary. They were the group who’d be making and serving the chicken potpie. After Daisy and Jonas followed the buffet line to the cafeteria-style meal, they ran their trays along the track in front of the serving pans. Daisy could see her aunt was busy at the stove where large pots of boiling broth cooked the doughy potpie squares. She didn’t bother her.

  Along with the chicken potpie which was square flat pieces of dough covered in gravy with bits of chicken and potatoes, they were served rolls and coleslaw, the creamy kind. Desserts in the form of apple cobbler, chocolate sheet cake, and shoofly pie with a sweet gooey filling topped with crumble were among the offerings at the end of the serving line.

  Jonas led Daisy to a table where they were the sole occupants. “I thought you might want a quiet dinner since you’re around people all day,” he said when she gave him a questioning look.

  “You could be right about that. Sometimes I think my ears are going to explode with all the chatter when we’re constantly busy. But I’m grateful for all the tourists who stop in.”

  After they ate in silence for a few moments, Jonas asked, “What’s Jazzi doing tonight?”

  “She’s coming to the carnival but she wanted to attend by herself. She’s actually been asking me for the car more often. She left before we did so I take it she was going to Stacy’s and they were coming together.”

  “She’s growing up fast.”

  “Too fast. I’m going to really miss her next year when she goes to college.”

  “Is that all that’s bothering you?”

  Something she loved about Jonas was that he could read her so well without her saying a word. “It isn’t just Jazzi leaving for college that makes me happy and sad all at the same time. It’s that after she does, everything is going to change.”

  “Change can be good,” he reminded her.

  “Yes, well, remind me of that when I’m sitting alone in the house with the cats and Jazzi’s gone.”

  He swung his arm around her shoulder. “Maybe we can change that.”

  Daisy wondered what Jonas meant by that, but before she could ask, her aunt approached their table.

  Iris slid onto the bench beside Daisy. “I wanted to say hi.”

  “You looked busy in there . . . and hot. The air conditioning doesn’t do much good when you’re standing in front of a boiling pot.”

  Iris nodded, sweat still beading on her brow. “I did need a break from the stove, but I also wanted to talk to you.”

  Daisy had just spent the morning with her aunt at the tea garden before Iris had left to start helping with preparations for dinner here. She wasn’t quite sure what this talk was going to be about. “Has something come up I should know about?”

  “Well . . .” her aunt drawled.

  Jonas peeked around Daisy to check out her aunt. “Are you going to get Daisy involved in something?”

  “I might,” Iris admitted. “The question is, should I?”

  “You can’t tease us like that, and then not tell us,” Daisy warned her. “Come on, spill it. What do you have to tell me?”

  Iris
leaned a little closer to Daisy and beckoned Jonas to lean in too. “There’s a security guard at the Hope Clinic.”

  Daisy caught on right away. “Is this the guard who supposedly carries a stun gun?”

  “It is. His wife is also a member of the Women’s Auxiliary. Mavis is inside dishing out the coleslaw.”

  Daisy had gone through the line quickly with Jonas and couldn’t remember who was dishing out the cabbage salad. “What about her?” Daisy asked.

  “I spoke with her before we started cooking this afternoon. I told her that you sometimes look into murders and things like that.”

  “Things like that?” Jonas questioned with raised brows.

  Iris waved her hand at him dismissively. “You know what I mean.”

  “And?” Daisy prompted.

  Iris crossed her arms on the table. “She says she’d be willing to talk with you.”

  Daisy was a little confused. “Did she talk to the police?”

  “No, they only questioned her husband. They didn’t talk with her.”

  After Daisy thought about it for a moment, she turned to Jonas. “Wouldn’t you say that this has to be a sign?”

  His frown and the expression in his green eyes said that he didn’t want her to get involved. Yet if she wanted to, it was her decision to make. He answered with, “It’s a sign all right. It’s a sign that Iris knows you too well.”

  Daisy touched his jaw and tapped it with her finger. He understood that she appreciated his respect for her and her decisions. Then she turned back to her aunt. “Does she want to talk to me tonight?”

  “Oh, no,” Iris said with a firm shake of her head. Then she put a slip of paper on Daisy’s tray next to her plate of potpie. “Here is Mavis’s number. When you make up your mind what you want to do, you can call her. I also gave Mavis your number. So if she calls you, that’s just another serendipitous sign, right?”

  “Right,” Daisy agreed.

  However, one look at Jonas’s face said he might not agree with that conclusion.

  After finishing their potpie dinners and slices of shoofly pie with whipped cream on top, Daisy and Jonas walked through the barkers along the midway at the carnival. Many of them were people they knew from Willow Creek. They stopped often and talked much. The community gathered here to have a night of relaxation, treats, and to watch their kids have fun. A country band began playing at the back of the lot, and residents had set up lawn chairs or stood around enjoying funnel cakes, corn dogs, and French fries.

  Suddenly Daisy caught Jonas’s arm. “Look over there.”

  Over there Daisy had spotted her daughter Jazzi. Tonight the teen wore clunky jeweled sandals, blue-patterned shorts, and a navy crop top. Her black hair flowed long and straight over her shoulders and down her back. Daisy believed her daughter was beautiful. Tonight, however, it wasn’t her appearance that she was watching.

  Jonas leaned his shoulder against hers. “Who is he?”

  “I think he was president of the junior class.”

  “Does that mean she has good taste?” he teased.

  The young man was tall and lanky. His dark brown hair fell over his brow and looked as if it might have been gelled back at the start of the evening. Dusk was falling now and Daisy didn’t know how long Jazzi had been at the carnival.

  “I think his name’s Mark,” Daisy told Jonas. “Mark Constantine.”

  “He looks as if he’s keeping a respectful distance.”

  Daisy watched the couple more closely. “His hand’s almost touching hers.”

  “But he didn’t take hold of her hand yet.”

  Daisy could tell Jonas was trying to keep his amusement at her reaction in check. “I suppose that’s a good sign,” Daisy agreed.

  Jonas nudged her shoulder. “A good sign for Jazzi or a good sign for you?”

  “I’m acting like an overprotective mother, aren’t I?”

  “Is this the first boy she’s dated?”

  “This might not be a date,” Daisy protested.

  Daisy watched as Mark’s hand curled around Jazzi’s.

  “It looks like a date to me,” Jonas observed.

  She took her gaze from the young couple and eyed Jonas. “You think I’m being silly.”

  He shook his head and turned serious. “I think you’re being a mom.”

  “I have questions.”

  “If we run into them, you are going to chill and act matter-of-fact, aren’t you?”

  There was levity in Jonas’s question, but she knew it carried advice too. “At least she drove herself here tonight,” Daisy muttered.

  Jonas took hold of Daisy’s hand and pulled her toward the Ferris wheel. “Come on. We’re going to have some fun. Any questions you have, you’re going to save until later, right?”

  Jonas was moving away from Jazzi so fast that Daisy only had time to say, “If I ask them then.”

  He pulled her up the platform to wait for one of the cars on the Ferris wheel.

  “Do you think this is safe?” she asked him. “They take these rides apart . . .”

  Jonas gently pulled her down onto the swinging seat. The operator of the ride attached the bar in front of them.

  Jonas turned his face to hers, studying her. “Safe. You’re going to ask me if this is safe after you’ve faced off with murderers?”

  “Shhhh,” Daisy said, putting two fingers playfully over Jonas’s lips. He kissed them and grinned at her.

  The Ferris wheel started turning.

  They were almost to the top when Daisy said to him, “I’m thinking about calling the security guard’s wife.”

  Suddenly they were at the top of the Ferris wheel and it stopped. Jonas blew out a frustrated breath, turned toward her, and kissed her.

  She forgot about murderers, security guards . . . and even Jazzi.

  * * *

  When Daisy took her break on Monday, she thought about her sister returning to New York today. Yesterday at dinner at their parents’ house, Camellia was mostly interested in their Aunt Iris and Vi. She hadn’t exactly ignored Daisy and Jonas but . . .

  Daisy shook off thoughts of Camellia and crossed the street, walked a few shops down, and then opened the door into Quilts and Notions, Rachel Fisher’s shop. As soon as she did, a comforting feeling fell over her. The shop brought back memories of Rachel’s family home when they were both just girls. The shop also signified to Daisy the best Willow Creek had to offer in patterns, materials, and above all, quilts. It was a bright store where quilts hung from high racks. The patterns were varied. One resembled her own Sunshine and Shadow quilt that covered her bed at home. Others were the Tumbling Blocks pattern, various Crazy Quilts, and a Wedding Ring Quilt. She studied that one for a long time. She hadn’t thought about wedding rings in a few years.

  Quilted potholders in colors from purple to hunter green to yellow and black fanned out on two shelves beside placemats that were also handcrafted. Another area of the shop held bolts of cloth in the colors many Amish women used—violet, hunter green, navy blue, light blue, and even aqua, to patterns that the Englischers in Willow Creek purchased—flowers, squares, plaids, and prints of all sizes and shapes. A corner rack that spun around held books about the history of Lancaster County and quilts, pattern books, crochet directions, and knitting patterns.

  Rachel stood near the quilt rack shelving buttons on a side stand. When she saw Daisy, she said, “Wilcom! Wie discht du heit?”

  Rachel sometimes used Pennsylvania Dutch with Daisy because she knew Daisy understood a bit of it, especially when it translated to “How are you today?”

  “I’m fine,” Daisy responded.

  “Did you come to visit or do you need something?”

  Daisy stood close to Rachel and lowered her voice. “Jazzi was with a boy at the carnival.”

  “I see,” Rachel said, obviously trying to hide a smile. She set the bin of buttons she was carrying onto the floor. “That shook you up a bit, ain’t so?”

  “Yes, it s
hook me up. I’m trying to get used to the idea that Jazzi’s going away to college next year. I really don’t want to add her dating this year into that mix.”

  “She has to date to find her lieb, ya?”

  “She’s too young to find her love.” As soon as Daisy said it, she knew what Rachel was thinking. “I know your daughter isn’t much older and she’s getting married. I watched Vi get married young. That wasn’t what I expected for her. I want to see Jazzi capture her dreams.”

  “What if her dream is having a home and family like her sister . . . like you?”

  Daisy sighed and leaned against the shelves. “I know I have to let her make her own decisions.”

  “Ya,” Rachel said, sort of as a prompt.

  “She knows I’ll support whatever she decides to do.”

  Rachel nodded. “She does.”

  “So why do I feel as if I’m not giving her enough guidance? Why do I feel that her growing up and moving on is a sad thing not a happy thing?” Her voice became thick as she asked the question.

  “Because you’re her mudder and you’re going to miss her. You can’t put your feelings on hold and pretend. It’s just like when Jeremiah was courting our Esther. I didn’t think he was right for her. In fact, I was sure of it. But she had to figure that out for herself and she did. And now she’s going to be happy with Daniel. She figured it out and your Jazzi will too.”

  Daisy’s shoulders relaxed and her chest tightness loosened. “You always make me feel better.”

  “That’s what friends are for. You help me too.”

  Another reason why Daisy had visited Rachel lay heavily on her mind. “Maybe you can help me in another way. Jonas won’t really tell me if he agrees with what I want to do.”

  Rachel cocked her head, the narrow ribbon of her kapp flurrying in front of her. “Does this have something to do with Hiram?”

  “You’re too perceptive.”

  “I’ve been your friend since we were kinner.”

  The fact that they’d shared thoughts and feelings since they were children mattered. “Aunt Iris gave me the number for the security guard’s wife.”