Murder with Cucumber Sandwiches

by Karen Rose Smith

  “Is this about the investigation?” he asked.

  “No. Jonas, Vi called me. She told me she’s coming home this weekend because she needs to talk to me. I asked her if it could wait until next weekend, but she says it can’t. From the way Foster’s been acting, I’m concerned it’s about them breaking up.”

  “Are you telling me you can’t go with me to Philadelphia?” His question didn’t have much intonation, and his expression was stoic.

  “I just can’t go this weekend, Jonas. Is it possible to postpone?”

  “No, it’s not. Peg and Vince have already asked a group of friends. It’s too late to cancel the barbecue.”

  “But you can go,” Daisy said.

  “Yes, I can, and I will. But that wasn’t the point.” She took a step closer to him. “I know that. But Vi wouldn’t ask me to cancel without a good reason.”

  “You don’t even know what that reason is.”

  “No, I don’t, but I trust her and her judgment. If she says she needs me, then she does.”

  His reply was quick and terse. “Do you always drop everything for your children?”

  There was an edge in his voice and, truth be told, Daisy took the question as an insult. “If you had children, Jonas, you’d understand. My children will always come first, especially now that I’m the only parent they have.”

  Jonas didn’t look sorry for what he’d asked, and Daisy didn’t feel sorry for how she’d responded. The look he was giving her now was cool or maybe it was merely disappointed. She backed away from him because she was so tempted to throw her arms around him to keep him close. She felt him emotionally pulling away. Yet, she didn’t quite feel that freedom, and especially not with what they’d just said to each other.

  “I’d better go,” she murmured.

  He merely stuck his hands into the back pockets of his jeans and nodded.

  She felt terrible as she left his office and then the workshop and then the store. He didn’t call to her . . . or follow her. But she’d meant what she’d said. Her children did have to come first.

  Sighing, she realized too late that a comment about him not having children probably hurt. The way he and his partner had lost their baby was tragic. Brenda had been shot in the line of duty and killed. She’d been pregnant when it happened. Jonas had told Daisy about it, but she wasn’t sure he’d healed from it, not emotionally anyway. She’d thought they could work on that together. But if he didn’t understand the responsibilities of being a mom and a single parent, she wasn’t sure their romance would ever take off.

  As she hurried up the street past Vinegar and Spice and waved to Arden inside, she liked the feeling of community this town gave her. Not all of the shop owners were friends, that was true, but they had something in common that united them and helped the businesses in Willow Creek thrive.

  She stopped for a moment at the candle shop’s window. All of Betty Furhman’s candles were made by hand with beautiful natural scents. She’d have to stop in soon. Her aunt had a birthday coming up . . . maybe she’d just like something to put in the house that smelled good. She’d hoped her dad would call and tell her how his conversation with her mother had gone, but he hadn’t.

  She didn’t know if that meant it went smoothly or if there were problems. She’d most likely see them this weekend. When Vi came home, they all had dinner with her parents on Sunday evening.

  She hurried her pace back to the tea garden, but when she stepped inside, she knew immediately something was wrong. Foster’s voice was raised.

  Mr. Johnson was a regular customer; he had bristly gray hair that stood straight up and a belligerent look on his face. “It’s smaller than Daisy’s scones usually are. I should get two of them.”

  Foster gestured to the sign behind the cash counter. “That’s not what the sign says. A scone costs the same no matter how big it is.”

  “You’ll lose customers that way.”

  “Most of our customers understand that Daisy packs goodness into each scone she makes.”

  Uh-oh. This wasn’t like Foster at all. He was a PR expert, a social media guy. He could tell her what she should tactfully say on her website and how she should comment when customers weren’t flattering. This Foster she almost didn’t know.

  Did he miss Vi so much that it was affecting his schoolwork, his life, and his work here? Or did he know trouble was coming when Vi came home, and he couldn’t stay focused on what he was doing?

  Walking up to the two men, she put her hand on Foster’s shoulder. Aunt Iris was watching from the counter, shock written on her face, so much apparent shock that she hadn’t intervened.

  “Foster, you know that when I’m making scones sometimes I get distracted. If there’s a discrepancy, I’ll be glad to give Mr. Johnson another scone.”

  After an angry moment, Foster bit out, “Fine. I’ll get one.”

  But Daisy stopped him. “Why don’t you take a walk outside for a few minutes? I’ll get Mr. Johnson a scone and another type of tea if he’d like it.”

  Mr. Johnson sat back down on his chair. “Maybe I made something out of nothing,” he apologized as Foster turned and headed toward the kitchen and the back door.

  “I apologize for Foster’s behavior.”

  “He’s usually such a polite young man. But just look at that scone. Isn’t it smaller than they usually are?”

  Daisy had to admit it was a bit smaller but not enough that all her customers would notice. She knew Mr. Johnson was on a tight income and he didn’t spend his money foolishly. “There is a discrepancy,” she assured him. “Now what kind would you like? A cinnamon scone or a chocolate scone?”

  “A chocolate scone and some of that orange spice tea.”

  “Coming right up.”

  As Daisy passed Cora Sue, she gave her the order for the tea, then she went to the scone case herself and chose an especially large chocolate scone. She set it on a flowered plate and took it to her customer’s table. “You enjoy this, Mr. Johnson. Cora Sue will bring out your tea in a few minutes. Don’t hesitate to ask if you’d like a refill.”

  After he thanked Daisy again, she headed for the kitchen and the back door. When she went outside, she spotted Foster almost the whole way down the yard at the creek. She’d intended to try to talk to him, but he was moving at a fast pace, as if he was trying to walk off something. She just hoped after Vi came home this weekend, he’d return to being the young man she’d originally hired.

  Chapter Twelve

  On Friday morning, Russ Windom entered the tea garden. Daisy noticed him immediately because business was slow today. An article had appeared in the Willow Creek Messenger about the murder. It had mentioned the sandwiches as the cause of death and the fact they came from the tea garden. Daisy glanced into the kitchen where Iris was helping Tessa. She motioned to Cora Sue that she’d take Russ’s order.

  When she crossed to his table, he smiled sheepishly. “Hi, Daisy.”

  “Did you ask Iris out yet?”

  “Not yet,” he said with a shake of his head.

  “Are you still afraid she’ll say no?”

  “Maybe, but when I come in like this, we can have a little quiet conversation if she’s free.”

  “Do you want me to get her?”

  “No, I want it to be natural . . . that she just stops to talk to me because she wants to.”

  Daisy shook her head and scowled at him. “Is that how you asked girls out when you were in high school?”

  “When I was in high school, I had more confidence and a lot more hair,” he answered grudgingly.

  Daisy laughed. “Sorry,” she apologized, “but you still have a lot of hair.”

  “Not on top.”

  She bit back another smile. “If you don’t want me to get Iris, what can I bring you today?”

  “How about lemongrass green tea and a bowl of your beef barley soup?”

  “Early supper?”

  “Yep. I don’t feel much like cooking tonight. A couple
times a week I stop by Sarah Jane’s and order takeout. Usually, one of her meals lasts two nights, but the refrigerator’s pretty bare. I have to go grocery shopping tomorrow. I might take along a few of your blueberry muffins too.”

  “Three?” she asked.

  “No, make it a half dozen.”

  After Daisy brought Russ his order, she asked him, “Do you want company? Business has been ridiculously slow today.”

  “Yes. Join me. I hate eating alone.”

  Daisy wondered if her aunt Iris felt the same way. If Russ didn’t soon make a move, she might have to play matchmaker.

  “Any word on the murder investigation?” he asked her.

  “The detective asked me to keep the specifics of Derek’s death to myself.”

  Russ dipped his spoon into the beef barley soup and swished it around. “No problem. I understand confidentiality. As a teacher I had to deal with it a lot. Times have sure changed since I began teaching.”

  “Were you a teacher under Bradley Schumacher?”

  “I was.”

  “How was he as a principal? Vi never said much about him, and Jazzi doesn’t now.”

  “He was firm but fair. He has great organizational skills. Being a high school principal is a lot of paper pushing. The assistant principal usually takes care of the discipline if the teacher can’t handle it himself or herself.”

  Daisy nodded. “Does Bradley get along with all of the teachers?”

  Pulling his teacup in front of him, Russ added a teaspoon full of sugar and a bit of cream. “He made it a point of his to get around to all the teachers every day and talk to them about something. He didn’t play favorites.”

  As soon as Russ said that, she frowned. “Was it a problem, not playing favorites?”

  “No, not at all. It’s just that . . . Bradley didn’t hesitate to sit down at the lunch table in the lounge with other teachers and chat. The impression I got when he told childhood stories was that he was the favorite brother. In fact, I don’t believe Harriet gave Derek as much attention. Bradley didn’t say that, but it was what his stories revealed. It’s very odd since Derek was the firstborn.”

  That was odd and yet... “Did Derek get along with his stepfather?”

  “From what I understand, the stepfather tried to take Derek under his wing, but Derek was a hard kid to get to know. In high school his grades were all over the place. He was cited for truancy, but he was popular with the girls. Maybe it was that bad boy persona he wanted to project.”

  “It sounds as if he might have been the opposite from Bradley.”

  “As a father and a teacher, I know each child has his or her own personality. It could be as simple as that.”

  “Do you know anything about Harriet’s sister June?”

  “Not much. I do know they hadn’t spoken since before Derek was born.”

  Daisy decided that tidbit was worth saving.

  The bell over the door jingled and four women stepped inside. As they took a table near Russ’s, Daisy pushed back her chair. “I’d better help serve. Everyone in the kitchen is prepping for tomorrow.”

  “It’s always good to talk to you, Daisy.”

  “It’s good to talk to you too. Now remember what I said, make your move.”

  Russ’s face turned a little ruddy. “I’ll keep your advice in mind.”

  Daisy suspected Russ might need a few cups of black tea with lots of caffeine to make his move.

  * * *

  Foster arrived early for his shift. Because Vi was coming home tonight, Daisy thought he’d be more cheerful than he had been recently. But he seemed as edgy as ever. Yesterday, he’d told her he was going to update their social media site and answer any questions customers might have. Right now, as he stared at Daisy’s computer, he looked downright sober.

  “What’s the matter?” Daisy asked.

  “Business has dropped off today for a very good reason. Have you checked your comments on the tea garden website lately?”

  “No, I haven’t. Why?”

  “Come look,” he said as if she might not believe what was there if he simply told her.

  A chill ran up Daisy’s spine because she had an inkling of what this might be about.

  “The newspaper article?” she asked Foster before looking at the screen. “I suspected it would cause a few rumors.”

  Daisy sat at her desk and began scrolling down through the comments. That chill up her spine transformed into a slow panic. “The public thinks we poisoned Derek Schumacher.”

  “They’ve been reading between the lines of that article. Of course, they think it was poisoning of some type.”

  “What are we going to do?” Daisy asked rhetorically, but Foster took her literally.

  “There’s not much we can do until this case is solved. We could put coupons in the paper. We can give out coupons to the people who do come in so that they come back. It might even be necessary to do that in the York paper and even Harrisburg, because you know the rumors are going to circulate farther than we expect them to.”

  “You’re giving me a dimmer outlook than I want to see,” she scolded.

  He looked as if he was about to say something but then changed his mind. “I’m only telling you what I think about it. You should check with your aunt Iris and Tessa and see what they think.”

  “Do you want me to deny all these rumors?”

  “I think the comments need to be addressed. Can you somehow keep the responses positive? Something like—We hope Derek Schumacher’s murder is resolved by the police quickly?

  Daisy nodded. “We might have to repeat the comment several times. I’ll respond to these comments now. We’ll have to check tomorrow to see if the tide has turned, but I doubt my responses are going to do it. Only solving the case will do it. I might have to take a more active role.”

  Sighing, Daisy rolled her chair away from the computer and changed their topic of conversation. “Did Vi tell you what time she’ll be home tonight?”

  Foster answered, “She had loose ends to tie up. She probably won’t get here until after eight.”

  Daisy thought about that and the comments on the tea garden’s website and where she could discover more clues. “Cora Sue mentioned visiting Harriet Schumacher this evening. Maybe I’ll tag along.”

  “Is Jonas helping figure out who murdered Derek?”

  “Not right now. He’s away this weekend.” Her heart felt heavy when she thought about their argument.

  She spoke in spite of the tightening of her throat. “I’ll ask Tessa to close up for the day. She knows to put the cash from the register in the safe. I’ll take it to the bank when I come in tomorrow morning.” She stood and untied her apron. “And I’ll see you later or tomorrow.” Daisy smiled at Foster with a wink.

  But he didn’t smile or wink back.

  * * *

  Daisy told Cora Sue that she’d drive to Derek’s house. Cora Sue’s husband had brought her to work this morning, so Daisy could just drop her off after their visit and then head home. On the way to Harriet’s, they talked about the comments on the website.

  They had almost arrived at Derek’s house when Cora Sue said, “We could take down our website for a while, and comments wouldn’t be spread as fast as they’re spreading now.”

  “I thought about that,” Daisy agreed. “But Foster doesn’t think that would help. He said people who know each other are still going to gossip, and there are other blogs about tea rooms where the rumors can spread just as fast. I’m still thinking about it though. Your inclination was my first inclination, but it isn’t just Facebook anymore or my website. There’s Twitter too.”

  “You sound discouraged,” Cora Sue said.

  “I don’t want to be. Every time we get pushed down, we seem to pop back up. But watching the sales numbers this week is challenging.”

  “We can hope another big story takes the place of the murder.”

  “Yes, or I can make better strides solving this case.”
r />   “I don’t feel I can help because of Detective Rappaport. I feel he has his eye on me. He comes into the tea garden about once a day now.”

  “You’re helping me tonight.”

  “This kind of help I can give. Even Detective Rappaport couldn’t find anything wrong with wanting to visit Harriet so she isn’t so lonely.”

  A few minutes later, they stood at the door of Derek’s house. June let them inside.

  Daisy explained, “We thought Harriet could use a little company and maybe soup.” Daisy held up the bag.

  “That’s kind of you. We were just having a cup of tea and talking about old times.”

  “Your childhood?” Cora Sue asked.

  “Yes, and our teenage years. How does time pass so fast?”

  “My dad insists time goes faster the older you get,” Daisy said.

  “Your father’s a wise man. I agree with that. Monday turns into the following Sunday, and I don’t know where the week went. Staying here with Harriet is giving me balance again, and something to do each day.”

  Using her walker, Harriet came down the hall to meet them at the top of the stairway. Daisy, Cora Sue, and June climbed the stairs. “Cora Sue. Daisy. What a nice surprise.”

  Harriet looked genuinely pleased to see them. Because being with her sister after all these years might be a little too much company?

  “Come into the living room,” she invited. “June, can you put the kettle on?”

  “I certainly can. I don’t know if our tea will be as good as what they sell at the tea room. I bought all kinds of teabags. I’ll bring in the box so you can choose.”

  Harriet seemed to be in a contemplative mood when she said, “Derek didn’t like all the flowers in here . . . or the pink backgrounds. He would have put geometric stripes on the wall if I’d let him.”

  “That could be the difference between a man’s and a woman’s décor,” Daisy said.

  “I suppose. But he said something that always made me wonder.”