Murder with Orange Pekoe Tea

by Karen Rose Smith

  Her calming voice must have calmed them. They didn’t go the whole way to the top of the stairs but returned to the slats and peered down at Felix who seemed to be very much at home.

  “Maybe they’ll live upstairs now,” Jazzi offered, half-teasing, half-serious.

  Daisy went over to the sofa and sat. She motioned to Jonas to come join her. With eyebrows arched, his jaw tense, he did. Felix got to his feet, went to Daisy, and let her scratch behind his ears.

  The felines had come down to the landing once more, but they couldn’t quite see Felix where he sat with Daisy at the sofa.

  They ventured down two more steps.

  “They’re coming,” Jonas told her.

  “Good.” Daisy continued to pet Felix. Jazzi stayed with Marjoram and Pepper. It wasn’t long before Marjoram jumped up on the back of the sofa and peered down at Felix.

  Daisy said conversationally, “You’ll like him once you get to know him.” She took her hand from Felix and offered it to Marjoram’s nose.

  The cat smelled it, raised her head and looked at Daisy as if to say, “You’ve got to be kidding.” She jumped down on the sofa beside Daisy and hissed again at Felix but didn’t arch her back this time.

  Felix appeared to be immune to cat noises. He took a step toward where Marjoram was sitting on the sofa and put his nose down right at her feet. Marjoram narrowed her golden eyes at Daisy then shifted her focus to the dog.

  Felix made a little huffing sound and Marjoram shrank back. But when he didn’t move closer, just kept his nose there, the feline sat on the sofa, tucked her paws under her, and stared at him.

  Jonas studied them both. “I should snap a picture but I’m afraid they’ll move.”

  Daisy shrugged. “One down and one to go.”

  * * *

  Daisy was intrigued by barns—old ones, new ones, red ones, gray ones. In Lancaster County, many barns sported hex signs on their gables. Sometimes a clothesline was attached from the roof of the barn to the house.

  The barn she entered Saturday morning had a stone base and white clapboard sides reaching to a high slate-colored roof. Today the loft hatch was open. A breeze blew through it making dust motes dance. The windows around the barn were high, and the stalls that usually housed horses were empty.

  Jonas and Elijah Beiler would be holding their sale here. They were talking to a few men who Daisy guessed had brought wood furniture to sell today.

  Instead of tagging Jonas right away, she moved around the barn, examining a roll-top desk, a secretary with a drop-down shelf, cedar chests that were often called hope chests. She stopped before a beautiful one with a mosaic wood inlaid lid. The wood had been sanded and coated to a beautiful shine, the colors ranging from blond to chestnut to walnut to mahogany.

  She was about to open it, knowing she’d smell cedar inside, when she spotted Eli Lapp and another man over by the side door of the barn. She thought she recognized the fellow with him as another one of the protestors. She did raise the lid to the cedar chest then, hoping it would partially hide her so Eli wouldn’t catch her peeking at him. The scent of cedar surrounded her and she looked down into the chest. It had a beautifully crafted interior.

  Moments later, her gaze rose to Eli again who was so busy with the other man that he didn’t notice her at all. She saw Eli’s fellow protestor hand him an envelope. Eli opened the white flap and took out the bills that were inside, counting them. She couldn’t tell the denominations but he seemed satisfied with what he’d received.

  Just what was Eli involved in?

  The protestor who looked to be around Eli’s age tipped his straw hat to Eli, gave a roguish grin, and then circulated in the barn as if he were looking for something in particular. Daisy guessed he wasn’t.

  She’d lowered the lid to the chest when she spotted Eli slip out the barn door. On a whim she decided to follow him.

  Eli quickly walked away from the barn and any traffic around it. His boots scattered gravel as he headed for the large chicken coop. Daisy didn’t believe he was going to collect eggs.

  She slowed down at the building about as big as a two-car garage. Chickens squawked from the other side. Keeping her back to the building, she sidestepped around the exterior. At the corner, she stopped. When she peered around the side, she spotted Eli talking with a young Amish woman. Miriam Yoder? Both of them looked happy as he showed her the envelope and the money inside. After he did, he folded the envelope and pushed it into his jeans pocket. With a huge grin, he took Miriam into his arms, hugged her, and then kissed her.

  From Daisy’s vantage point, they looked like a young couple in love.

  Trying not to make any noise, she returned the way she’d come. Inside the barn once more, she waited by the door.

  From across the room, Jonas spied her and beckoned to her. But she held up her hand with one finger as if to say, Give me a minute.

  He nodded and returned to attaching prices on the pieces of furniture.

  It wasn’t long until Daisy saw Eli as he hurried back to the barn. He nodded to her and was going to pass her when she said, “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

  Eli studied her impassively but didn’t move away.

  Instead of revealing her knowledge of his meeting with the woman who must be Miriam, she pounced on the other activity she’d seen. “What’s going on?” she asked him. Sometimes an open-ended question like that produced more information.

  This time it didn’t. He said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I saw money exchange hands between you and that protestor.”

  With a scowl he reminded her, “I was one of those protestors too.” There was more belligerence in his tone than she’d expected to hear.

  So she asked him again, “What’s going on, Eli?”

  Her low question didn’t prompt information. Instead he turned his back on her, headed back outside, and threw over his shoulder, “It’s none of your business.”

  Maybe it wasn’t, she thought as she watched him walk away. But that exchange of money could be the business of the police.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  When Daisy finally approached Jonas, he was talking to Zeke Willet. As soon as he spotted her, however, he stopped talking, turned, and embraced her. Then he gave her a resounding kiss. Neither of them cared who was watching.

  The kiss might have gone a little longer than it should have because Zeke tapped Jonas’s shoulder. “We were talking, remember? I know your brain’s probably a little foggy . . .” He trailed off and grinned.

  Jonas had the grace to flush. He said to Zeke, “I haven’t seen Daisy since Felix met the cats.”

  Zeke scrunched up his face as if that wasn’t the subject he’d expected to talk about. Keeping with the levity of it though, he asked, “How did that go?”

  “At first Jonas was worried,” Daisy told him.

  Jonas waffled his hand back and forth. “Dogs and cats don’t always mix. At first there was a lot of hissing.”

  “But after they all got used to each other, they got along.” Daisy’s voice was light, keeping with the moment.

  “I suppose then there’s hope for humans,” Zeke commented wryly.

  Daisy laughed. There was definitely hope for humans. After Marjoram had decided Felix was an okay dog, Pepper had jumped on the bandwagon. In fact, Pepper had ended up sleeping near one of Felix’s paws while Jonas and Daisy and Jazzi sat on the sofa and watched a movie. Daisy had felt as if she’d like many more nights like that one.

  Before any of them could comment further, Lawrence Bishop came hurrying toward them. “I’m glad I caught all of you together,” he said.

  “Has something happened with Piper or Emory?” Daisy asked.

  “No. The town council just had an emergency meeting. We’ve chosen the man who will head up the fund-raising for the shelter.”

  “Who is it?” Zeke asked.

  “His name is Dalton Ames. He’s from Harrisburg and he’s supposed to be good.
”

  “Supposed to be?” Jonas inquired.

  “That’s just it,” Lawrence said. “That’s why I’m glad I ran into you three.”

  Daisy could feel an “uh oh” forming in her subconscious.

  “The other members of the council were impressed with his résumé. But I want to know his ethics. After all, think about Hiram.”

  “I don’t understand,” Daisy said. “How does this compare?”

  Lawrence glanced at Zeke. “I want you to do a background check on Dalton Ames.”

  Zeke shrugged. “I’m not sure I have cause to do that.”

  “I want you to think about something,” Lawrence said. “Look at what happened to Hiram. I heard about cases he took that filched income from the elderly or made him consider his fees above the right thing to do. What if this fundraiser isn’t honest? What if Ames has ulterior motives? He’s from a big city and we’re a small town. Maybe he thinks he can put one over on us. I need you to do a deep background check. Find out what he’s been involved in . . . if any of it has been nefarious. If he’s been fundraising for charities, just what did he do for them? Do they have good things to say about him?”

  “Certainly he had recommendations and references on his résumé,” Zeke said.

  “Oh, he did. But I know how that goes,” Lawrence protested. “Just think about the letters that high school students have us write to recommend them for college. They only go to the teachers who had positive interaction with them. They’re certainly not going to go to someone who didn’t. I want to know if there were any complaints against this man and, if so, what they were. Doesn’t that merely make good sense?”

  Jonas nodded. “I suppose it does. But how is the rest of the town council going to feel if you do this?”

  “They don’t have to know, not unless Zeke finds something that I need to share with them. Isn’t that the point of the background check?”

  Zeke still looked troubled. “Mr. Bishop, it sounds more like you need a private investigator to do this. I’m not sure I can dig like you want. I can find out the obvious—if Ames has a record, if he has any warrants against him, maybe even charities he worked for. But after that”—Zeke shook his head—“I have a murder investigation to deal with.”

  Lawrence rubbed his chin and then the back of his neck. “I do understand that. Can you at least do the preliminary check for me? I’ll find someone to do the rest.”

  Daisy was hung up on something Lawrence had said. She asked him, “Are you saying there are clients or maybe people Hiram brought suits against who would kill him?”

  “Take any lawsuit,” Lawrence exclaimed with a lift of his hand. “Someone has to be on the losing end. Hiram has been practicing law for a long time. Cases mount up and so do enemies.”

  “Then this murder might never be solved,” she concluded not for the first time.

  Bristling, Zeke contradicted her. “Wait a minute. I’m not going to stop until I find out who murdered Hiram.”

  “I suppose you have a suspect list?” Daisy asked.

  “We do,” Zeke said warily.

  “Maybe you should find out how many of those suspects use insulin,” she offered.

  “HIPAA regulations make it tough to learn medical information.”

  “If you’re questioning suspects, you can probably find out from them. Anyone who’s innocent won’t even know why you’re asking.”

  After Zeke thought about it, he shook his head. “It would almost be easier to track down the people who knew Hiram was hypoglycemic.”

  Daisy agreed with that. “Maybe it would be, but that could be harder to find out.”

  Zeke arched his brows. “I have my methods.”

  What Zeke was telling her was that he wouldn’t quit until he got his man or woman. She hoped that would be true.

  * * *

  Vi had invited Piper to lunch at her apartment on Sunday after church and she wanted Daisy to join them. Daisy was happy to do that. She always loved spending time with Vi and Sammy, and she thought she could learn more from Piper about what was going on with Emory too. She scolded herself for even thinking about that but there it was. She couldn’t hide the fact that she was getting involved in the investigation. So far, however, she hadn’t really learned anything that she could tell Zeke.

  At eight months old, Sammy was doing more than growing. He was busy as long as he was awake. He’d learned to crawl and that meant exploring as much as he could wherever he could. Of course, he was also putting anything and everything into his mouth. That was a constant concern of Vi’s. She had toys in the refrigerator that she used for that purpose because he was also teething. But as soon as they hit the floor, she was there picking them up and washing them.

  Daisy couldn’t remember if she’d been that compulsive about it, but she appreciated the way Vi was mothering and how much she loved Sammy.

  Vi had been breastfeeding when Daisy arrived at her apartment, climbing the stairs and opening the baby gate at the top of them. Since the floor above her detached garage hadn’t been finished when her barn was renovated to be her home with the girls, she’d decided to finish it into a small apartment for Vi and Foster. That had always been her plan so she’d have added income or for the purpose of one of her daughters living there if they decided to stay in Willow Creek. Especially since Sammy had been born right here in this apartment, the space already held memories. However, Vi and Foster were decidedly tight on space. The living room and kitchen were one room. Instead of leaving space for a nursery, they’d decided to make one big bedroom that had a connecting bath with a sink, commode, and walk-in shower. They put up a screen for privacy between the crib and the couple’s bedroom space. They’d furnished it with mostly thrift store furnishings that Gavin had helped with. It was a cozy little place and it looked as if Vi had straightened it up before Piper had arrived. No toys were strewn about.

  Piper was sitting on the small sofa next to Vi, watching her nurse the baby. She seemed taken with the union between mom and son and totally absorbed with it. Was she thinking about a time when she’d have her own baby at her breast?

  Vi called to Daisy, “Hi, Mom. I’m hoping he takes a little nap after I feed him. He’s been crawling around here like one of those sweeper robots all morning. I might have to get him knee pads at this rate.”

  Both Piper and Daisy laughed. Daisy commented, “That’s what overalls are for.”

  She noticed that Sammy was wearing a jean set that Vi had bought at A Penny Saved, the clothing store that helped anyone on a budget. The little blue striped T-shirt he was wearing under the coveralls was one Daisy had bought for him. His feet were bare because he wouldn’t keep on socks or shoes. As soon as Vi put them on, he grabbed them off. Yes, and into his mouth with them too.

  “I’ve never seen anyone breastfeed before,” Piper said, almost reverently.

  Vi looked up at Daisy. “I asked if she wanted me to cover up but she said no.”

  “It’s so natural,” Piper said, her voice soft. “Vi told me she would never breastfeed without covering herself in public and I understand that. But I want to know about it because I want to do it someday.” She stopped to give it thought. “If we adopt, I guess that won’t be possible.”

  Daisy came to sit on a small chair that Jazzi and Vi had upholstered themselves. The small geometrical patterns on the material were in various shades of blue and violet with a taupe background.

  Daisy sat with the chair facing toward the sofa and laid her purse on the coffee table. “I bottle fed Jazzi,” she told Piper. “No, it’s not the same experience but it’s special too. Whenever I held her in my arms and fed her, we grew closer. I know my husband felt the same way.” She remembered taking turns with Ryan when Jazzi was up in the middle of the night.

  “I don’t know how Emory will take to fathering,” Piper admitted honestly.

  Vi, who had told Piper all about her postpartum depression, elaborated, “I’m not sure anyone knows how they’ll tak
e to parenting until it actually happens. Suddenly you have a responsibility for a child twenty-four hours a day for the rest of your life. You think you know what that’s going to feel like, but I don’t think you do . . . not until you have that baby in your arms . . . not until you give birth and realize you’re on your own with this child. I think that’s one of the reasons I wanted to have my baby here at the apartment with a midwife. Still, look what happened. My body turned on me in a way, and I had to get it lined up with my thoughts. I needed help to do that. There is help with everything. That’s why I still belong to my mommy group.”

  Daisy asked Piper, “Have you attended any groups for parents who want to adopt?”

  “No, we haven’t. But that’s because we still haven’t made a decision.”

  Sammy had stopped suckling and Vi’s son was looking up at her. His eyes drifted shut. “Maybe if you joined one,” Vi interjected, “that would help you and Emory make your decision.”

  Piper looked especially young today. She was wearing shorts, a pink tank, and she’d fashioned her hair on top of her head in a messy bun. Her freckles were evident and she looked like a young woman in her teens rather than in her twenties.

  Vi rubbed her hand across Sammy’s brow. “He’s fallen asleep.”

  Daisy asked, “Can I tuck him in?”

  Vi gave her a knowing smile. “Of course, you can. I’ll set out lunch while you’re doing that. I made chicken salad. We can have sandwiches or scoops of salad on lettuce. I went to the bakery this morning and brought home croissants.”

  “That sounds good,” Piper said. “My stomach’s been tied in knots ever since this whole thing happened with the clinic. I’m actually hungry today.”

  “Mom brought over blueberry coffee cake for dessert last night, so we can have that too. I might even bring out carrot sticks to make the whole thing healthy. Sliced tomatoes too.”

  Daisy loved the time she spent with Sammy whether she was playing with him, rocking him, or tucking him in for a nap. There was a rocker near his crib and she sat in it and rocked him for a few minutes. She knew it would take at least that long for Vi and Piper to set up the table. His cute little round face reminded her of Vi when she was a baby. He hadn’t had his first haircut yet, and his brown hair curled a bit over his ears and down his neck. He was so cute Daisy wanted to hug him all day long.