The Tea Shoppe Mysteries

by Darlene Franklin

  Mabel stirred sugar into her teacup. “But if I know you, you also plan to look for any clues to the murder.”

  “Yes.” How much should I say? “I’m looking specifically for any information about an old accident that caused Geoffrey’s brother’s death, and also about a disability his nephew supposedly has. I don’t know exactly what it is, but I think it could be important.”

  Mabel nodded. “I may be able to work disabilities into the conversation. My brother is in a wheelchair.”

  My mind stampeded briefly. She couldn’t say, “My brother is disabled, and by the way, what’s your problem?”

  “Don’t worry.” She must have sensed my hesitation. “If I can work it naturally into the conversation, I will.”

  “Yes well, that brings me to my request. A condition, really. We must stay together. I don’t want either one of us alone with either of the Guilfoyles.”

  Her conspiratorial grin diminished. “You’re serious about this.” She shook her head. “Of course you are. I’ll stick to you like fog on a spring morning.”

  As long as her caution didn’t drift out to sea.

  We stopped by the tea shoppe for a couple of cold plates for lunch before heading to Neptune Cottage. Since I hadn’t left Marshfield alone since I brought him home, he came along with us.

  Marshfield raced across the tea shoppe parking lot ahead of me, straining at his leash and barking at a few cars as they pulled in. I scolded him. “Bad dog. If you’re going to be the tea shoppe’s mascot, you must play friendly with our guests.”

  He barked as if he had received a compliment and sniffed the air for a treat. Instead, I waited until we got into the car and he settled down peacefully. He gulped his reward down in one crunch. Once we reached the open road, I rolled down the window a couple of inches. He stuck his nose in the streaming air and howled at the world.

  The scenic route added about five minutes to our drive time, but it was worth it. Nothing refreshes my spirits like salt air and sunshine, and Sir Geoffrey had chosen the spot for his home well.

  When we passed the final turn, Marshfield must have sensed where we were headed. He whined and tucked his head beneath his front leg.

  I reached back and rubbed my hand over the top of his head and gave him another treat. “It’s okay. We’ll face it together, shall we?”

  The presence of the rental car suggested the Guilfoyles were in. Mabel and I got out of the car, I let Marshfield out, and we climbed the stairs to the porch. I took out my key, knocked on the door, and waited a couple of seconds before entering.

  Marshfield didn’t want to go in, not one bit. He hugged my side as if we were glued together, and refused to look up from the floor. I understood the sentiment. I was a poor substitute for his best friend.

  Daisy came to the door, Freddy close behind. Both were dressed to go out.

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Holland. This isn’t a good time.” The angry expression on her face gave truth to her words. “You should have called ahead.”

  “That’s all right. I have the master keys here for anything that’s locked.” Just sliding in the word to remind them I was the owner, after all.

  Daisy frowned. “I want to be here when you go through Geoff’s estate.”

  “You’re welcome to stay.” I stuck my tongue in my cheek, hoping at least one of them would stay behind.

  They pushed past us and walked to their car.

  I went inside ahead of Mabel and let Marshfield off his leash.

  Mabel took her time coming in the door. “They’re arguing about who should stay.”

  “We’ll see who wins.”

  “Three, two, one.” Mabel counted.

  Freddy walked in.

  “I’m glad you could join us, Freddy.”

  He headed for his room and returned with a camera. “Mother suggested I take a video of you at work.” He tapped the lens. “Who knows what secrets are hidden in this house?”

  I felt Mabel’s eyes turn in my direction, but she spoke to Freddy. “What a wonderful idea. That way we’ll have a record when we go through your rooms as well.” She took out her phone.

  “Shall we get started?”

  CHAPTER 12

  I decided to speak up before Mabel or Freddy took over completely. “We’ll start in Sir Geoffrey’s study. Freddy, why don’t you grab a couple of chairs from the kitchen while Mabel and I bring in boxes from the car.”

  I hadn’t expected to bring much home with me today but had come prepared. I was glad I had brought file boxes. Someone must have rifled through his desk. Sir Geoffrey never left his papers scattered all over the desktop like that. I could only hope he had kept his most important papers locked away safely.

  I shuffled through the items on top of the desk. To my relief it appeared to be mostly mail. I saw no evidence that any of the envelopes had been opened. The envelopes, flyers, and other items on the desk had a certain order to them, seven or eight piles—the number of mail delivery days since Sir Geoffrey’s death? That sounded about right.

  I found the library file catalog on Sir Geoffrey’s computer and printed out the list before handing it to Mabel. “Please check the books while I go through the desk.” Mabel is twenty years younger than me, so I didn’t feel guilty about asking her to climb on a step stool.

  I tackled the mail first. Nothing unusual. I kept the personal mail to take home and put the bills in a separate bag to take to Paul.

  I was aware of Freddy following my every move, so I didn’t react when I ran across an envelope from someone named L. Sussex in Durrow, England. I considered myself lucky that it hadn’t been opened.

  I wanted to go through Sir Geoffrey’s file cabinets before I turned on his computer. I had wondered if locating the correct key would be a problem, but Sir Geoffrey had the cabinets well marked, each label corresponding to a key on my key ring.

  I looked through the file drawers one folder at a time. I made a brief note of the contents of each and tried to imagine what could be missing. One by one, I slipped them into the box I was taking home. After about an hour, the first box was full.

  After about an hour and a half, I found the file I knew must be there. With newspaper clippings, court documents, and doctor’s findings stacked in plastic sleeves, it wasn’t as thick as I had expected. I didn’t open it on the desk, not with Freddy watching our every move. Instead, I placed it in the second box and closed it. One more box should do it.

  I poured myself a cup of tea from the thermos I had prepared for the morning and offered Mabel a cup. We ate our lunches. I gave Marshfield a treat for being so well behaved. He had spent the morning curled on the rug in front of the fireplace. He scrambled to his feet as if expecting to leave. I hugged his neck. “A little bit longer. That’s a good boy.”

  “How much longer do you think it will be?” I startled when I heard Daisy’s voice from the doorway. “I’m supposed to have a hair appointment at two.”

  “No one’s keeping you here.” I finished my tea. “We’ll be gone as soon as I finish going through the desk.”

  “I guess I can wait.” She noticed a couple of photo albums Mabel had laid out. “I wondered where these had gotten to!” She grabbed the first one and held it close to her chest. “Surely you don’t object if we take these. They’re old family photos. Geoff didn’t tell me he was taking them.”

  I felt a bit like Scrooge because I couldn’t agree to her request. Sir Geoffrey left them to me for a reason. “I want to look at them before I make a decision.” Even then, I might decide to keep them.

  “Well, I never.” She stomped to the middle of the room and sat in a chair next to Freddy.

  I felt cruel, which made me uncomfortable. Resolutely, I added the albums to the last box and decided to cut our losses. “That’s it for now. We’ll be going.”

  Mabel waved the list in her hands. “Let me take that box,” she said, pointing to the first one I’d packed.

  I appreciated it, because it was heavier than the
others. I picked up another box.

  “Let me take this one for you.” Freddy grabbed the third box, the one with the picture albums.

  “Freddy,” Daisy warned. He shrugged her off.

  When Freddy reached for the door handle, the box slid out of his hands, and he slipped and fell. An ornate ring tumbled out of his shirt pocket.

  Marshfield jumped off his rug and barked, snarling in Freddy’s face, daring him to move. The situation had taken a frightening turn. I pulled the dog back sharply and punched in 911. I knew that ring well: the original Durrow family crest, which Sir Geoffrey wore with great pride. When the dispatcher answered, I reported a theft at Neptune’s Cottage.

  Marshfield pulled against my grip. I wondered what was troubling him, Freddy’s fall, the sight of the ring, or a different memory?

  The ring had unsettled me, but I’d worry about that later. I bent over him, asking, “Are you all right?”

  “I think so.”

  Mabel stared at the ring. “You must be the murderer.” She blurted out the words.

  The scene froze for a long second.

  Mabel found her voice again. “I mean, that’s Sir Geoffrey’s ring. He said it would never leave his finger—until he was dead.”

  I warred inside. We had no business accusing anyone of murder, especially not as defenseless as we were.

  Freddy protested, “This is all a dreadful misunderstanding.” He rose to a sitting position but stayed on the floor. Daisy stared off into space, as if she were deaf and dumb to everything that had just happened.

  He picked up the ring and tossed it on the table. “I should never have touched it. But it’s mine by rights. I’m the Baron of Durrow.”

  He sounded like someone who had achieved a lifelong dream, only to find that it was hollow inside.

  “You should have waited.” I didn’t need to say any more. His posture showed deep regret for his actions.

  For taking the ring—or for murder? I didn’t know.

  In the distance, sirens approached in response to my 911 call. I didn’t know if it was the police or an ambulance from the Sea Side Infirmary for Sailing Folk.

  Daisy’s eyes widened in disbelief when she heard the sirens, but Mabel, who had retreated into a corner after her accusation, brightened. “The police can sort it out.”

  I had almost begun to believe Freddy’s protests about his innocence—of murder—until I saw the panic in his eyes.

  The sirens grew louder.

  “Freddy didn’t kill Geoff.” Daisy marched to her son’s side. “I did.”

  A police car pulled up beside an ambulance. Tom and Enos came to the door. The detective’s eyes measured me.

  I stood tall, reminding myself I had every right to be in the house. “Come in. We’ve had an incident.”

  I didn’t say anything else. I was more confused about the murder than ever. Nothing added up.

  Mabel had no doubts. She pointed to Daisy. “She killed Sir Geoffrey. She just confessed to us.”

  Tom raised his eyebrows. “Is that so?”

  Daisy drew herself to her full height, full of British starch and backbone. “Yes. I killed my brother-in-law.”

  I felt the detective’s gaze drilling into me, as if asking me what role I played in this affair. Mabel preened herself as if she had solved the murder.

  Even as they led Daisy away in handcuffs, I wasn’t convinced. We had a confession, but did we have the murderer?

  CHAPTER 13

  Freddy followed the police in his rental car. A hollow feeling filled my chest as I bent over to pick up the files that scattered across the floor when Freddy dropped the box. The pages of carefully kept documents scattered across the floor made me sick. How could I ever get them back in order again, since I didn’t know what was in the files in the first place? I wouldn’t attempt to do it here.

  Had he dropped the files on purpose to keep us from finding something? No, that didn’t make any sense. We could still see everything; it just wasn’t in order. Time would fix that problem.

  With the departure of the Guilfoyles, Marshfield had grown calmer. But he was more than ready to leave, and so was I.

  “Let’s just dump everything in the box,” I said to Mabel. “I’ll sort it out at home.”

  “I don’t believe Daisy did it.” Mabel handed me the first photo album. I checked it, worried that the fall might have ripped the delicate pages. But the thick album cover seemed to have protected the pictures within.

  “Me neither.” I placed the cover on the top and hugged the box to my chest. “I’m hoping to find clues in here.” We left the house, and I set the box in my trunk. “Why I think it’s up to me, I don’t know, but … I feel like I owe it to Sir Geoffrey.”

  “Besides, you’re nosy.” Mabel grinned at me. “That’s okay. So am I.”

  We bumped elbows in agreement. “As long as the Guilfoyles are out of the house, do you mind continuing with the inventory?” I asked her. “I need to take Marshfield for a walk and check in at the tea shoppe.”

  “Sure. I’ll come back with my van.”

  I felt the need to remind her. “And if the Guilfoyles return before you’re done, lock up and leave. I don’t want you with them here alone.”

  She shuddered. “You have my word.”

  Mabel took care of the other two boxes. I tried to help, but Marshfield hugged my legs, making it hard for me to balance.

  Mabel opened the back door and invited Marshfield inside. He promptly jumped in and settled down.

  “It’s like he was born to it.” I climbed in the front seat and buckled myself in. As we headed down the road, Mabel said, “The dog seems to have taken to you as his new owner.”

  “You think so?”

  “He seems to see you as his protector. Or maybe he thinks he’s protecting you.”

  “Maybe we’re just helping each other out.” I found I was enjoying Marshfield’s company immensely. I’d forgotten how much I appreciated a dog’s simple companionship. Sir Geoffrey knew me better than I knew myself and had given me the gift I needed the most.

  After we unloaded the boxes, I drove Marshfield a short distance from the tea shoppe, where the houses weren’t so close together. “I’m sorry, fella, we’ll have to keep our walk short today.”

  Marshfield barked in protest but ran after a squawking seagull.

  We spent fifteen minutes on the Point. I checked in at the tea shoppe to face the crowd. If the news had spread about Daisy, I needed to do some damage control.

  When I walked in, my neighbor Carol spotted me. She pointed to me and started clapping. Soon applause echoed around the dining room.

  Georgina hugged me close. “Congratulations, Gran. I’m passing the hat of family sleuth on to you.”

  I hugged her back.

  “Mind if I ask you a few questions?” Norman Dexter, our local beat reporter, asked.

  “Not yet.” I laughed it off, but this wasn’t the time to talk about it.

  “Speech!” several voices called at once.

  The noise was agitating Marshfield. He barked and tugged at his leash. Grateful for the excuse, I said, “I’m sorry, but the dog has had a trying morning. Let me get him settled, and I’ll be back down.”

  I knew I had to say something. While I took Marshfield upstairs, I worked on formulating a speech in my mind. If I kept at it much longer, I’d get as good as the presidential press secretary in saying an abundance of nothing.

  “I appreciate your vote of confidence. I’m sure you understand that the police don’t want me to say much. But to answer your most burning question, yes, Daisy Guilfoyle said she killed Sir Geoffrey. And yes, the police took her away in handcuffs along with the traditional warning. And that’s all I’m going to say.”

  People shouted questions as I left the dining room. Once we closed the kitchen door behind us, Georgina said, “You made a very carefully worded statement back there.”

  “Get me a salad and bring it upstairs. These walls hav
e ears.”

  She joined me upstairs a couple of minutes later. “You weren’t supposed to put yourself in danger.”

  “I didn’t. We weren’t.” I stopped. “You can’t repeat any of this.”

  “I won’t. But nothing’s to stop Mabel.”

  She would talk, I knew, and our stories might differ.

  “Okay. You didn’t say, ‘Daisy murdered Sir Geoffrey.’ You said, ‘Daisy said she killed him.’”

  “Semantics.” I tried to shrug it off.

  She arched her eyebrows at me. “You’re the one who taught me their importance. What happened?”

  I told her the sequence. How Daisy had sat in the library with us as we finished going through Sir Geoffrey’s things, how Freddy offered to help us take the boxes out to the car but fell, dropping the box and Sir Geoffrey’s ring on the floor. Mabel’s accusation and Daisy’s immediate rebuttal.

  “It all feels a little too convenient,” I said.

  “Do you think Freddy killed him, then?” Georgina asked.

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m hoping there’s information in these files about the condition or accident or whatever it is that gives him problems.”

  Georgina sighed as she turned to go. “Why can’t you let the police sort it out from here?”

  I furrowed my eyebrows. “I just can’t let it go. Sir Geoffrey was my friend.” I shot my zinger right before the door closed behind her. “Kind of like you let the police sort it out when the mayor was killed.”

  I heard her grumbling all the way down the stairs.

  After church the next day, I made a pot of tea and settled in the living room to go through the boxes. I set aside the first one I’d packed to look at later. After a moment’s consideration, I placed the box that had spilled across the floor next to the first one.

  I hoped that the clippings about the trial following that long ago accident would satisfy the itch that was bothering my conscience, I had to remove the source of the irritation and be satisfied in my own mind about what had happened to cause Sir Geoffrey to be estranged from his family. Before I added the third box to the others, I removed the file in question.