Murder with Cucumber Sandwiches

by Karen Rose Smith

  Turning toward him, she smiled. His thick black hair looked like it might still be damp from his shower. This morning he wore a steel gray pullover with black jeans and black shoe boots. She wanted to give him a hug, maybe even a kiss, but they were in a public place. She spotted Elijah behind Jonas. As well as selling his furniture through Jonas’s shop, Elijah Beiler also oversaw the shop from time to time when Jonas’s manager couldn’t be there.

  “Good morning, Jonas. Hi there, Elijah. I suppose this meeting is to get us ready for Tourist Appreciation this weekend.”

  “Ready is a relative term,” Jonas commented. He leaned close to Iris. “Your sweets this morning look good. Better yet, I know they’ll taste delicious.”

  Iris’s eyes were twinkling as she said to Jonas, “My blueberry scones are the best. If you want more than one, you’d better grab them while you’re up here because there won’t be any if you come back.”

  Jonas laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  As soon as he had put two scones on his paper plate, his gaze wandered to the back entrance of the social hall. He leaned over Daisy’s shoulder and asked her, “Since when does Detective Rappaport come to chamber of commerce breakfasts?”

  “I don’t know.” Daisy realized worry tinged her voice. “Do you think it has something to do with the murder?”

  “We’ll soon find out.”

  It didn’t take long until everyone who was at the breakfast was seated. They all had stores or work of some kind to get back to. Daisy, Jonas, Iris, and Elijah had ended up seated next to Arden Botterill.

  The first thing Daisy asked Arden was, “How are sales at Vinegar and Spice?”

  Arden had opened the shop in the beginning of winter, not the best time for an opening. The boutique was an amazing shop, and Daisy stopped in often. Arden sold flavored vinegars. Daisy liked the peach vinegar the best, and she often used it on her own salads. She also made dressings with it for the tea garden. Other flavored vinegars were strawberry and cranberry walnut balsamic. Along with the vinegars she sold flavored olive oils such as blood orange and basil lemongrass. Combinations of spices also drew cooks to Arden’s shop. The orange pepper was Daisy’s favorite, although there were many more.

  “Sales have picked up in the past week,” Arden said. She had a piquant face and short red hair. She looked to Daisy like a pixie. But she was in her forties and business-savvy despite the inopportune opening of her shop.

  “The tour buses have done a great deal for business,” she said. “Apparently, the tourists have experienced stores similar to mine in other towns. Hanover has two—one in their Amish market and one downtown.”

  “Why do you think interest in this has picked up, not only among chefs, but among ordinary people?” Aunt Iris asked.

  Arden’s answer was quick in coming. “It’s the cooking shows. My goodness, I don’t think I could even count them all now. There’s the Food Network, of course, but then there are cooking shows from home chefs to master chefs on other TV networks too. Women especially see how they can enhance their family’s dinners, so they use something different. I’m grateful for that. I believe business will only pick up.”

  Jonas interjected, “I hope that’s true. When one business succeeds, it helps others succeed.”

  Although Jonas had experienced deep heartache and seen absolutely vile things as a detective, he was one of the most positive people Daisy knew. And his positivity was another attribute that drew her toward him. Jonas Groft was so much more than a handsome man who could be a GQ model or a macho hunk on the front of a mercenary magazine.

  Now what had made her think of that? His background and the fact that he’d carried a gun?

  Bridie took her position at the podium with the microphone after almost everyone attending had finished eating and they’d gone back to the serving table for their second cup of tea or coffee. Iris had been right. There weren’t any more blueberry scones, just a few biscuits.

  Bridie tapped the mic to test it as she usually did. Then she bent down. “Hello, everyone. Thank you for coming today. I hope you’ve enjoyed a little camaraderie in preparation for the meeting. We really do want all great minds to think alike.”

  Everyone chuckled. Bridie didn’t like dissention or confrontation, and they all knew it.

  “Before we start with our business about Tourist Appreciation Weekend that’s coming up faster than we probably want it to, Detective Rappaport has asked me if he could speak a few words. Since the chief of police called me ahead of time and told me this was going to happen, I said of course he could. How could I ever turn down Eli Schultz?”

  Again, a chuckle went through the room. Chief of Police Schultz was always gruff and unsmiling. Though he used to be mostly a paper-pusher, that had certainly changed over the past year with the murders that had landed on his desk.

  “Detective Rappaport, it’s your turn,” Bridie said, “but do please keep in mind that these folks have to get back to work.”

  “And so do I, Miss Stoltzfus. So do I.”

  Bridie reddened a bit at that but stepped aside so he could stand at the podium.

  He took a minute for silence to settle in—an unsettling silence. Then he said, “Most of you know me or know of me.” His glance fell on Daisy’s table and a few others. “Knowing that you are all store owners, I consider you as responsible adults in this town.”

  Daisy leaned close to Jonas. “What’s he talking about?”

  Jonas shook his head. “I don’t know, but I’m sure we’ll find out.”

  “I have a murder to solve, and I’d like to solve it quickly. Tourist Appreciation Weekend could slow me down just because of having more people in Willow Creek. But also because of emergencies and situations that might call me away from my desk because of it. So I’m going to ask all of you to keep your calm hats on this weekend. Try not to let fights break out, screaming matches start, or anything that would require you to call the police. If someone needs help and you can help them, please do that. I guess what I’m saying is, try to take some of the burden off the police. You know we patrol more and contract additional security officers for these weekends. I would consider it a big help in going forward if stores could install security cameras. They would be a huge aid if a crime occurs.”

  A man in the back shouted, “Big Brother is watching.”

  Rappaport scowled. “Maybe so. But just remember, you are your brother’s keeper, and your brother could save your life.”

  He looked over at the business owner again and added, “Also with more people milling about, you’re bound to overhear conversations. Keep an ear out. I’m sure Daisy’s Tea Garden will have curious tourists who’ll want to see the last place Derek Schumacher ate food. Whether they come into the tea garden or stop at other stores, take note of their conversations. I’m going to set up a tip line. I will give all of you the number. If you hear anything that might have something to do with the murder, call that line. I have cards here with the number printed on it, so I’ll put them on the table at the entrance. As you leave, pick one up. Then you’ll have the number with you. Are there any questions?”

  No one raised a hand. Rappaport gave them all a level look. “Remember to pick up your cards on the way out.”

  Arden, who was sitting next to Daisy, said, “I know the Schumacher family. My grandparents were friends with Harriet’s parents. Her parents were bakers, and they took goods to be sold to the farmers market. My grandparents who sold produce had a stand next to theirs.”

  “Do you know much about the present-day Schumacher family?”

  “I know that Harriet has a hard shell.”

  “Hard as in . . .” Daisy prompted.

  “Would you believe Harriet has a sister, June, that she hasn’t spoken to in about thirty-five years?”

  Daisy couldn’t imagine it. She and her sister Camellia didn’t always get along, but they never would think about going without talking for a year or longer.

  “Do you know
the basis of the split or anything about June?”

  Arden shook her head. “No, I don’t. Truthfully, I don’t think anybody does. Harriet can be very closed-mouthed. I do know Bradley, Derek’s brother. He’s a bit rigid but a good guy. His wife is decent too. She’s been kind to Harriet since her stroke.”

  “How about Derek? Did you know him?”

  “Not well. He was hardly in Willow Creek, cooking at this restaurant or that, then with his cable show.”

  Daisy watched Bridie as she took her place at the podium, intending to make her next announcement.

  Jonas asked Arden, “Is an inheritance from Derek in the offing?”

  Arden glanced at Jonas and must have realized that he wasn’t asking out of mere speculation. “You were a detective, weren’t you?”

  “Once,” he said, leaving it at that.

  “I don’t know the exact contents of Derek’s will, but I did hear he’s definitely leaving his house to his mother to sell or keep as she wishes.”

  Bridie was at the microphone and tapped it several times. Without preamble she began, “You know I don’t like discord. I hear there’s a squabble over whether there should be a DJ at the social for Tourist Appreciation Weekend. If we can’t come to a consensus, we will have a vote and that will settle it.”

  Jonas’s shoulder leaned into Daisy’s. “Maybe someone didn’t want Harriet to have Derek’s house.”

  “Maybe the murder had nothing to do with an inheritance.”

  She exchanged a look with Jonas that said only time would tell. Then they turned toward Bridie who intended to maintain order no matter what.

  Chapter Eight

  From a vantage point across the street, Daisy cast her glance toward the tea garden. Sometimes it was so hard to believe that she and her aunt owned it and were making a success of it. On Saturday of this Tourist Appreciation Weekend, she realized how the Victorian stood out set among the other businesses. The pale green exterior with its white and yellow trim looked fresh, as fresh as spring. She’d filled huge ceramic pots with herbs and flowers, especially lavender and rosemary. It was early yet for the herbs to reach their full stature, but they still looked beautiful surrounded by purple and pink pansies and daffodils. By summer’s end, the lemongrass would grow as high as the top of the bay window.

  She felt a hand on her arm and turned to see her friend Rachel.

  The strings on Rachel’s white kapp floated a bit in the spring breeze as she said enthusiastically, “Doesn’t the town look wonderful gut?”

  With her family and close friends, Rachel often lapsed into Pennsylvania Dutch dialect. Daisy understood it because of the time in her childhood spent with Rachel’s family. She remembered wishing she and Rachel could go to school together. But the Amish school was separate from the public school. Still, during planting season, Daisy and her dad had made weekly trips to the Esh farm to pick up plants they’d grown there for sale in their nursery.

  Glancing down the street again at the bright-colored canopies lining the main road on both sides, Daisy felt the excitement of a weekend for crafters and storekeepers that was going well. The weather couldn’t be any more perfect. This was the second day of their event, and although everyone was harried and busy, they wore smiles on their faces that told Daisy many customers were buying.

  “I only have a few minutes’ break,” Daisy said, “or I’d come in and look around at the quilts I saw Levi bringing in yesterday.”

  “Table runners too,” Rachel said with a nod. “I thought of you when I saw them.”

  “Uh-oh. Now I’m hooked. Still, I promised Jazzi I’d bring her a funnel cake from the Kings’ stand. As if we don’t have enough baked goods in the tea garden. But Jazzi insists scones and muffins are not funnel cakes.”

  Rachel laughed. “And you feel obligated to bring one back because she’s working for you today.”

  “She is. I’m trying to keep her busy so she doesn’t think too much about Portia and what’s going to happen next.”

  As if Daisy had summoned Jazzi, her daughter came running over from the tea garden. “Mom, we need you. We don’t have an empty chair.”

  Daisy patted Rachel’s arm and said, “See you later.”

  Daisy handed Jazzi the plate with the funnel cake dusted with powdered sugar. As she and her daughter waited to cross the street, she spotted Harriet Schumacher headed toward her in a wheelchair. Her son Bradley was pushing her, and a woman walked beside him.

  Harriet called, “Mrs. Swanson.”

  Daisy crossed to where Bradley had stopped the wheelchair. She was surprised she’d never made the Schumacher name connection before. Since Jazzi and Violet had attended the high school, she’d just considered Schumacher, the principal’s name, a common name in this area.

  Immediately Harriet said, “This is my son Bradley who you might know if your girls are at the high school. And this is my daughter-in-law Lauren.”

  As soon as Jazzi saw her high school principal, she blushed. She was obviously embarrassed at seeing her principal in an out-of-school setting. She quickly said, “Remember, Mom, we need you,” and rushed down the street away from the group.

  Daisy stared after her daughter. “I’m sorry if she seemed abrupt. Apparently, the tea garden had a surge of customers, and she called me in off of a break.”

  Bradley said, “My students like to forget I’m their principal.”

  Lauren laughed. “Authority figures and teenagers don’t go together very well. I’m glad we’re not at that stage yet.”

  “They have a daughter,” Harriet interjected. “She’s three.”

  “That’s a wonderful age,” Daisy said. “You ought to frame lots of photos so you can remember as many days as you can.”

  Lauren nodded. “Exactly.”

  “Where is she now?” Daisy asked.

  “She’s with a sitter,” Lauren responded. “This was a bit too much for her. Fortunately, a responsible teen lives next door to us, and she can babysit when we need her.”

  “I know it’s a little early after Derek’s death for me to be out and about,” Harriet said. “But I can mourn Derek and still live my life.”

  Lauren and Bradley exchanged a look.

  Daisy knew what Harriet said was indeed true, and yet . . . After Ryan had died, she’d found it hard to get on with life. Part of her had been missing. It was as if she still had one hand but not the other. The only thing that had kept her moving forward had been her girls. She couldn’t even imagine losing a child, not even a grown one. Maybe Harriet was pushing grief away with bravado. But it would catch up with her.

  “You have to do what you feel is right,” she said tactfully. “You also have to take care of yourself. If coming out, interacting with people, stopping at craft stands, can ease your sorrow, then that’s what you need to do, no matter what anyone says.”

  Harriet nodded. “I like that philosophy.”

  Harriet studied the people strolling up and down the street, stopping to buy potholders, a flower arrangement, or a wood carving. “Derek would have loved this,” she mused.

  “Derek did like to be in the center of the action,” Bradley agreed.

  Daisy could tell from the expression on Harriet’s face that she was reminiscing. “He was so upset when his show was canceled,” Harriet said.

  Although Daisy remembered the tea garden needed her, she couldn’t help asking a question to learn more about Derek. “Why didn’t he try to propose another show if he had a good following?” Daisy asked. “His blog alone gets a million views.”

  Bradley shook his head. “That just wasn’t possible. Burned bridges and all that.”

  Harriet gave him a sharp glance as if she were puzzled by what he’d said. “You and your brother were just very different.”

  Lauren added, “Although Bradley’s around eight hundred students most of the time, he’s more of an at-home, quiet person and doesn’t seek the spotlight.”

  Studying Derek Schumacher’s family, Daisy
wondered exactly what Bradley knew about Derek’s burned bridges. She also suspected that seeking the spotlight could have been one of the things that had gotten Derek killed.

  As Daisy glanced across the street, she spotted Jazzi again, waving at her from the doorway. With an apologetic smile, she said to the group, “I really do have to get back to the tea garden. Why don’t you come with me? Tea and a free scone for each of you, your choice.”

  Bradley leaned down to Harriet. “Mother?”

  “Can you accommodate a wheelchair?” Harriet asked Daisy.

  “Yes, we can. We have a handicapped entrance at the back. You can come right through the hallway and into the tea room. No muss, no fuss. I promise.”

  Harriet nodded. “A cup of Earl Grey and a scone would hit the spot. But there are a few craft stands I’d like to visit first.”

  “The invitation is open-ended. Come in anytime.”

  She hoped that they would. She also hoped that maybe she’d learn more about Derek Schumacher from this trio who each had very different personalities.

  After a round of good-byes, Daisy crossed the street, took one glance at the gingerbread trim on the tea garden’s porch and second floor, then quickly ran up the few steps to the covered porch of the Victorian. Once inside she easily realized why Jazzi had beckoned to her more than once. Both tea rooms were crowded, and there was a line at the counter that her aunt and Karina were attempting to manage. Daisy had called in extra help to bus tables with Jazzi, but everyone was scurrying, pouring, serving, or taking orders.

  Had she expected today to be such a success? She wasn’t sure. She’d been on a committee in the winter to promote Quilt Lovers Weekend, and the promotion had increased their winter traffic significantly that weekend. But not like this.

  She went to the kitchen first because if the tea garden didn’t have enough baked goods, salads, and soups to sell, they might as well close.

  Tessa looked up from the carrot salad with grapes and pecans that she was stirring in a huge stainless bowl.

  “How are we doing?” Daisy asked.