Murder with Cucumber Sandwiches

by Karen Rose Smith

  Foster gave the detective a defiant, dark look.

  Rappaport paid no mind and followed Daisy to her office.

  The detective started with the obvious questions. He wanted alibis. While Aunt Iris sat in the chair at the front of the desk, Daisy perched on the edge of it.

  Rappaport stood in front of them. “All right, Mrs. Swanson, tell me your alibi. I’m hoping it’s one I can check out.”

  Did that mean he really didn’t suspect her or Aunt Iris?

  “I was at the tea garden late because of the afternoon tea service with Derek Schumacher and the rest of my guests. After I left, I picked up Jazzi from her soccer game and went home. Jonas Groft was with us last evening for dinner.”

  “I suppose Jazzi’s coach could confirm that you picked up your daughter?”

  “She can, and so can Jazzi.”

  “It’s better to have someone impartial confirm the alibi.” He directed his focus toward Iris. “How about you? Alibi?”

  “I drove home around six. My neighbor was outside and waved when I got home. Then I was alone the rest of the night.”

  Changing tactics quickly enough to make Daisy’s head spin, Rappaport asked, “Do you know where Cora Sue was last evening?”

  Daisy shrugged. “My staff doesn’t always reveal their lives to me. Why are you asking?”

  It was obvious Rappaport was debating with himself over what to tell her.

  “Look, Detective, I know you want to keep details of what happened secret. I do understand that. But you also have to give me enough so I can help you if I can.”

  “All right. But I want you and Iris to keep this to yourselves. If you don’t, I’ll know where it came from.”

  “You can trust us,” Iris said.

  He ran his hand across his forehead. “I have a witness who saw and heard Cora Sue arguing with Schumacher before he came to the tea garden.”

  Daisy’s expression must have revealed her shock.

  “You didn’t know about that?” he asked.

  Daisy shook her head. “Cora Sue didn’t mention it. If I had known, I might have questioned her about it.”

  “That’s what I thought. I also want to know about Foster.”

  Rappaport was reaching, as Jonas would say. And she wouldn’t help him reach. From dealing with murder investigations before, Daisy knew the best thing to do was to say as little as possible. “I don’t know where Foster was last night. He’s my employee. I don’t keep tabs on everything about his life.”

  “He’s dating your daughter. I’m sure you know a lot more than you think you do, or that you want to tell me.”

  Although Rappaport’s gaze was steely, Daisy changed the course of the questioning. “Detective, how did Schumacher die?”

  The detective eyed her carefully. “That’s still to be determined by the coroner and evidence techs.”

  Rappaport’s restrained answer told Daisy more than he thought. His explanation revealed that the manner of death wasn’t obvious.

  Almost to himself, the detective muttered, “I have to interview Schumacher’s colleagues, bosses, and friends. Family too. Believe me, I’m going to be busy for a long while.”

  He made it sound as if he didn’t want to be. Daisy couldn’t help but ask, “Detective Rappaport, when you took the job in Willow Creek, did you merely expect to be dealing with jaywalking violations and traffic stops?”

  He looked her straight in the eye. “Matter of fact, I did. This job has turned out to be much different than I bargained for. But that could soon be changing too.”

  “Are you going to leave?” Daisy pressed.

  “I always have to remind you that I’m the one asking the questions, don’t I?”

  “It doesn’t hurt to ask,” she said with a shrug. “I know you’ll tell me what’s going on eventually.” She thought she saw the edges of his mouth quirk a bit as if he might be amused by her.

  Not to be distracted, the detective said again, “Tell me again about Foster. Where was he yesterday after tea service? Where was he coming from this morning?”

  Marshall Thompson, the lawyer she’d consulted during the last murder investigation, had agreed with Jonas about saying as little as possible when questioned. So she stuck to those rules. “I don’t know where Foster was.”

  “Am I supposed to actually believe that?”

  “You can believe what you want, Detective. He hasn’t been dating my daughter for that long. Their lives are still separate. I don’t keep track of him, and I don’t think Violet does either. Since she’s away at college, he tries to give her her freedom. They’re a modern dating couple.”

  “Maybe. When I talk to him, I’ll get it cleared up. For now, try to stay out of this, okay?”

  “Detective, you made me close my business and you’re interviewing me and my staff. Therefore, I’m in it whether you want me to be in this investigation or not.”

  “Mrs. Swanson, watch . . . your . . . step.” He drew out the sentence so that she’d know he meant it.

  Just what questions could she ask and of whom before she fell into trouble with the police?

  * * *

  After the detective and his patrol officers left, Daisy decided she needed to talk with her staff. She wanted to know why the detective was determined to question Cora Sue.

  She waved Cora Sue into her office. “Can I talk to you for a few minutes? You’re pale.”

  Cora Sue sank down onto a wooden ladder-back chair.

  “I’m getting used to dealing with Detective Rappaport and the rest of the police,” Daisy explained. “But I know you aren’t. Why was he so interested in your alibi?”

  Cora Sue sighed. “I know the owner of a restaurant that Derek Schumacher reviewed last week. She spent the last three years building up her business in Ephrata. She doesn’t cook fancy food, but she cooks good food, sort of like Sarah Jane’s.”

  Sarah Jane’s was a popular diner in Willow Creek. “So why did Detective Rappaport have a problem with you knowing the owner of the restaurant?”

  “On my way to the tea garden for my shift, I stopped for a prescription at the drugstore.”

  “Presley’s Pharmacy?”

  “Yes. Derek Schumacher was coming out of the drugstore as I was going in. I was so mad for my friend, afraid he’d hurt her business, so I told him he was unfair to her and he’d better be fair to you.”

  “You didn’t threaten him in any way?” Daisy asked.

  “No, not in so many words. And if he wasn’t going to be fair to you, I don’t know what I would have done. Maybe I would have paid his mother a visit. She had sway over him.”

  “You know his mother?”

  “Yes. My aunt and Harriet were neighbors in Harriet’s old neighborhood. My aunt and I last visited her at Derek’s house just after she came home from rehab for a stroke.”

  “Derek’s mother had a stroke?”

  “Yes, about a year ago. She was in rehab for a few months and is doing as well as can be expected. After her stroke, Derek moved her into his house.”

  “He cared for her?” Daisy asked, surprised.

  “Visiting nurses came in to check on her when she first got home. I think Derek’s sister-in-law helps out. But Harriet insists she doesn’t need help anymore.”

  Daisy would like to learn more about all that. She wasn’t sure why, but after helping the police with two other murder investigations, she knew motives intertwined just like family members and friends. You never knew when you could find a clue that was important.

  Clue. Uh-uh. She was not looking for clues, not this time. She remembered the last murder cases she’d been involved in and the consequences of her involvement.

  Daisy caught sight of Foster at the sales counter. She wanted to talk to him next.

  After Daisy and Cora Sue returned to the main tea room, Daisy captured Foster’s eye and nodded to her office. When he gave her a blank look, she said, “Come on. I want to talk to you.”

  He followed her th
ere, albeit reluctantly. That wasn’t like him. Once they were in her office, she closed the door and pointed to the chair in front of her desk. Then she brought around the chair from behind the desk and sat near him.

  “How did it go with Detective Rappaport?”

  “It went,” Foster answered noncommittally.

  Daisy pushed on. “I know he wanted to question everyone about their alibis. Is that what he talked to you about?”

  “He tried to,” Foster mumbled.

  “What does that mean?” This wasn’t usually Foster’s attitude. He tried to be helpful and cooperative.

  “I didn’t tell him where I was.”

  Sitting back in her chair, she tried to keep the dismay from her voice. “Foster, do you think that’s wise?”

  “It’s none of his business,” Foster retorted defensively.

  “Foster!” Daisy put her hand on his arm. “What’s wrong?”

  He wouldn’t meet her gaze. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m just not ready to talk about where I was . . . with anyone.”

  “And that includes me?”

  “For now, yes, it does,” he maintained.

  “The detective won’t let this go. You know that, don’t you?”

  Foster gazed down at his shoes. “I suppose.”

  “There are ways to track people and cars that the police didn’t have before. Simply routine traffic cams can snap your license plate number.”

  “I didn’t think of that,” Foster murmured. “But he’ll be too busy running down other suspects to worry about me.”

  Daisy knew that was possible. The police would have a good number of suspects where Derek Schumacher was concerned. The problem was—was Foster one of those suspects?

  Chapter Five

  When Daisy went into the kitchen to check how the preparations for the lunch crowd were going, beef barley soup was simmering. Eva had just taken a tray of maple and walnut scones from the oven. Daisy easily heard Cora Sue telling Tessa, “I don’t know what I’m going to do. What if they don’t believe me?”

  Cora Sue sounded near tears, and Daisy reflexively went in that direction. When she stopped near Cora Sue and put an arm around her server’s shoulders, tears did come to Cora Sue’s eyes and leaked down her cheek.

  “What’s going on?” Daisy asked quietly.

  While Cora Sue tried to compose herself, Tessa explained, “She’s afraid the police won’t believe her alibi.”

  “Actually, I don’t have one,” Cora Sue said. “That’s the problem. I was alone after I went home and the rest of the night. Of all times not to have a significant other.”

  Daisy could see Cora Sue was trying to smile. She usually had an encouraging word or joke for anybody. “I don’t know if Detective Rappaport will believe a significant other either. Business is slow right now. Why don’t we have a cup of tea and we can talk.”

  Cora Sue glanced around the kitchen. “Are you sure?”

  “I wouldn’t have suggested it if I wasn’t. Come on. I know how talking to the police can freak you out for a while afterward. How about a serving of rum raisin rice pudding along with a cup of Earl Grey?”

  “Rum raisin?” Cora Sue asked, interested. “Did you put plenty of rum in it?”

  Daisy smiled. “Only extract. But if you pretend it’s real rum, it might have the same effect.”

  This time Cora Sue smiled back. “Sounds good. I’ll bring the tea.” Ten minutes later, Cora Sue and Daisy sat in the main tea room near the window. They looked out into the street as they sipped their tea.

  Cora Sue took a spoonful of rice pudding. “This is really good, Daisy. I don’t know how I missed it in the walk-in. Usually I look over everything in the morning. I guess I’m just distracted today.”

  “Stress can affect your memory, what you see, and what you don’t see. I just want you to know that Tessa, Iris, and I have been major suspects with Detective Rappaport, and our situations turned out all right. Yours will be resolved too. Getting angry with someone and telling them off doesn’t mean you have it in you to kill them.”

  Cora Sue’s topknot bobbed as she gazed at Daisy and said, “Someone did.”

  “I know. Tell me more about Derek Schumacher and his mother. Did they have any other relatives?”

  “From what I understand, Harriet’s husband was an only child. He was his brother Bradley’s father but not Derek’s.”

  “So he was Derek’s stepfather?”

  Turning her blue-flowered teacup around on its saucer, her server responded, “Yes. Derek was the one who convinced his mother to come live with him after her stroke. He put in a chair lift so she could have her own apartment on the second floor. She can do stairs, but he didn’t want to worry about her falling.”

  “So he watched over her?”

  “Sort of. As I told you, she went to rehab and then when she came home, a service came in every day. After more occupational therapy and physical therapy, the professionals all decided she could live on her own. But I don’t think Derek trusted that. Harriet’s a very independent woman, and she doesn’t really want anyone taking care of her. This arrangement worked out pretty well. When Derek cooked, he took food up to his mom. Other nights, he brought in takeout . . . or his brother did. From what I understand, Harriet also had containers she could pull from the freezer that Bradley’s wife Lauren made. I think Lauren drove Harriet to her doctor’s appointments when Derek couldn’t. The family seemed to have a system going that was good for everyone.”

  “I wonder what’s happening with Derek’s mother now.”

  “I’m not sure,” Cora Sue said.

  Daisy took a bite of her rice pudding and then a sip of tea. “Maybe you and I could pay Harriet Schumacher a condolence call. Do you think she’d appreciate that?”

  “I imagine she would. I don’t think she has many friends.”

  “Since her stroke?”

  “In general. Her husband left her well off. When he was alive, she belonged to the garden club, was on the board of a hospital in Lancaster, and gave cocktail parties to help her husband further his circle of influence. He was a venture capitalist.”

  “Really? In a town the size of Willow Creek?”

  “I think he traveled a lot. I’m not sure how Harriet spent her time alone. She’s one of those women who tells you exactly what she thinks.”

  “I have a mother and aunt who are somewhat like that,” Daisy said with a gentle smile.

  Cora Sue laughed. “I think your mom and your aunt have more tact than Harriet does. Her bluntness is one of the reasons she doesn’t have many friends.”

  “Yet honesty is the best policy, right?”

  “Sometimes I’m not sure about that. Sometimes little white lies go much farther with holding onto a friendship than complete honesty.”

  That conclusion gave Daisy something to think about.

  * * *

  The following day everything seemed to be going well at the tea garden. The staff seemed calmer, as if they were enjoying whatever they were doing. That was the atmosphere Daisy wanted to promote. If everyone who worked there was calm and peaceful and happy, their customers would feel that too.

  At one o’clock, Foster’s cell phone dinged. He took it from his pocket and glanced at the screen. Daisy, who was brewing a pot of jasmine tea, looked up. He didn’t usually take calls while he was working.

  However, he met her gaze and told her, “It’s Detective Rappaport. I have to take this.”

  She nodded. He was right. He did have to take it.

  After he ended the call, he said, “He wants me to come down to the police station now. Are you going to be okay for a while? I don’t know how long he’ll keep me.”

  “We’re fine, Foster. I can always call Karina or Pam to see if they’re free. Don’t worry about anything here.”

  “No, just worry about what I’m going to say to him,” Foster mumbled. Within minutes he was gone.

  Daisy worried about Foster. He was definitely part of the tea g
arden family now. Besides that, she felt she should watch over him because of Violet.

  When Foster returned to the tea garden an hour and a half later, her worry increased. First, she checked the green tea room to make sure customers were taken care of. They were. She nodded to her office and Foster followed her inside.

  “How did it go?” she asked.

  “It went,” he mumbled.

  “Foster, what does that mean? I can see you’re upset.” Foster paced back and forth. “I can’t tell the detective what he wants to know.”

  “What does he want to know?”

  Stopping his travel across the office, Foster admitted, “He says I have to confirm my alibi. He has to be able to verify where I was the evening Derek Schumacher was killed.”

  “And?” Daisy prompted.

  “I can’t tell him. Not yet.”

  “What’s so important that you have to keep it to yourself, that you’re putting yourself in danger with the police?”

  “I made a promise and I have to keep it.” He turned his dark brown gaze to hers, and she could see his eyes were glistening with something she couldn’t name. Something was troubling Foster deeply, but he wouldn’t reveal what it was.

  “You know you can tell me anything . . . anytime. And if not me, you should talk it over with someone, someone you trust.”

  “I know,” he answered, but that was all he said. Daisy could see he wasn’t going to say more. There wasn’t anything else she could do until he opened up. Except for one thing.

  “If the police want to talk to you again—and I’m sure they will to get more information—let me know. I’ll call the lawyer that Aunt Iris and I used.”

  “I can’t pay for a lawyer,” was the response that flew out of Foster’s mouth. That didn’t surprise Daisy either.

  “Knowing Marshall, he’ll give you your first consultation free. There might be a charge if he goes to the police station with you, but I’ll take care of it.”

  When Foster began to protest, she said, “I’m your employer, and if you’re in trouble, you’re in trouble because you work here. So don’t argue with me about this, okay?”