Murder with Cucumber Sandwiches

by Karen Rose Smith

  “I’ll make the tea,” Tessa offered.

  “Do you want help?”

  “Today I think it’s safer if I make it.”

  Daisy knew where everything was in Tessa’s apartment, and she often made tea. But today Tessa was probably right.

  She crossed to the sofa and sat watching Tessa as she filled the teapot with water, set it on the front burner, and switched it on. Then she took a black polka-dot bone china teapot from a cupboard, spooned tea into the infuser, and crossed to the living room to wait for the water to heat. “I’m making green tea with chamomile. It will help settle you down.”

  “I don’t think anything is going to do that this morning,” Daisy responded with a catch in her voice.

  “Do you want to wait until the tea is ready to start talking, or do you want to have a brownie first?”

  “We haven’t made brownies for the tea room for a while.”

  “That’s why I made a batch. A brownie for breakfast?”

  “That sounds good to me. Do you have nuts I could have with it so I get my protein?”

  “Always the nutritionist at heart. Brownie and nuts coming up.”

  Being in Tessa’s apartment, talking as if they were just two friends with nothing on their minds seemed unreal. Daisy felt as if she was living in more than one universe—one filled with the tea garden and friends and customers, tea and sweet goods. And the other with a family dilemma she didn’t know how to handle.

  The teapot whistled. While the tea steeped, Tessa brought into the living room a yellow ironstone plate with brownies and a bowl with almonds and walnuts. “Have a brownie first, then we can start talking.”

  “You sound like Detective Rappaport, except he doesn’t offer brownies.”

  Tessa couldn’t hide her smile. “If you can still joke, then the end of the world isn’t coming yet.”

  “I don’t know about that. It might be the end of the world as we know it.”

  “Daisy, why are you scaring me? Spill it.”

  “Violet is pregnant.”

  Tessa’s brown eyes went wide, and her mouth rounded in an “O.” Apparently, she was so surprised that she didn’t speak until the timer went off for their steeped tea. “I’ll pour the tea,” she said in an amazed voice. “Maybe I should have made black tea. You might need to be braced, not calmed.”

  Once they were sipping and nibbling, Daisy said, “You haven’t heard the best part.”

  “I’m afraid to ask.”

  “Vi and Foster want to get married immediately. She wants to quit school so she can get a job and help with their finances until the baby’s born. Foster will keep working at the tea garden and try to pick up more computer work. He’ll keep going to college unless he can’t handle it all. If he can’t, he’ll quit college and return when life settles down.” She couldn’t keep her voice from becoming a bit sarcastic.

  Daisy slid another brownie onto her plate. “They’re making a mistake.”

  “Are they making a mistake if they’re in love?” Tessa asked.

  “They’re blinded by feelings. They’re naïve. Nothing about this is going to be easy. Both of them are coming to dinner tomorrow night, and the four of us are going to look at what they want to do and maybe formulate a plan. But I honestly don’t know where to start.”

  “You said it yourself—they need to be practical. Give them a piece of paper and a pen and tell them to make a list of practical solutions to make their lives work if they do get married.”

  Daisy thought about it while she munched. After another sip of tea, she agreed. “If they look at their reality on paper, their plans might not seem so rosy. On my part, I think what I need to do is to make a list of possibilities and solutions to bring to the table. Maybe that list will keep me busy enough to keep me from brooding. Vi won’t talk to me about the pregnancy without Foster being present. She doesn’t want me to pressure her or convince her to do anything she doesn’t want to do. I guess he will be her buffer.”

  “I suppose that works if Violet doesn’t want to talk to you about it on her own. But I can’t believe she won’t want to eventually. A girl turns to her mom in times like this.”

  “In books and movies.”

  “Are you going to discuss this situation with Jonas?”

  “Jonas is another matter entirely.”

  Tessa settled her teacup on her saucer with a little click. “What’s that supposed to mean? I thought the two of you were dating and becoming more serious.”

  “I did too. Jonas and I were supposed to see friends of his in Philadelphia this weekend, but then Vi called and said she was coming Friday and she had to talk to me. I canceled those plans. Jonas wasn’t happy.”

  “I don’t get that. Jonas seems to be the kind of guy who would understand family commitments.”

  “Maybe so, but his friends were having a barbecue and he wanted to introduce me to everyone. One of the couples was coming from out of town.”

  “I can see how that would be disappointing.”

  “I don’t know, Tessa. He seemed to be upset that I couldn’t put him first. Our relationship might have nowhere to go because with Violet’s pregnancy I absolutely can’t put him first. And I’m not sure where that leaves us.”

  * * *

  After Daisy slipped into plaid pajama pants and a blue tank top that evening, she wished she could call Jonas. Jazzi was in bed and all was quiet.

  Pepper lay on Daisy’s Sunshine and Shadows quilt. The feline was stretched out, but her golden eyes followed Daisy everywhere she went. The soft white fur on Pepper’s tummy invited a tummy rub. Marjoram was upstairs with Jazzi. It was unusual for the two cats to go their separate ways.

  Pepper meowed at Daisy.

  Daisy crossed to her bed and sat down beside the cat. “Do you want a belly rub?” she asked Pepper.

  Pepper blinked at her, which was possibly a yes. Unlike other kittens who grabbed your arms with their front and back legs and might even bite when you touched their tummies, Marjoram and Pepper had never done that. So Daisy stroked Pepper’s silky white fur, running her fingers through it. “Do you think I need company tonight?”

  Pepper just laid her paw over Daisy’s hand as if in a comforting gesture.

  “I guess that’s a yes too.” Daisy felt a little misty that this cat could read her so well.

  She was feeling a combination of so many things. Of course, worry about Vi and Foster was at the top of her current list. Jazzi seeing a counselor was next. Daisy had made appointments for her for Monday and Thursday to start. Then, of course, there was Jonas. Somehow Derek’s murder had slipped from first place. Maybe that’s what she could concentrate on instead of strategies for Vi and Foster if they went ahead with their plans.

  After she ran her fingers through Pepper’s fur again, rubbed the spot between her eyes and down her nose, and heard her purr loudly, Daisy said, “I’ll leave my door open if you want to go up to Jazzi’s room.”

  But Pepper just curled up on her side and stretched out a paw as if she was deciding to stay for the night.

  Daisy wandered over to her dresser. She opened the top drawer and removed a long navy box. Opening the spring lid, she studied the pearls Ryan had given her as a wedding present. She lifted them from the blue velvet lining and ran her fingers along each pearl. There was a knot between them. The gold clasp had a safety catch. It was silly, she knew, but she put them on. Her blond hair played down over them, and she fingered the pearls again. She hadn’t worn these since Tessa’s showing of her paintings at Revelations Art Gallery. Maybe that was because when she wore them, she remembered.

  Although some memories were fading a bit, others were vivid. Suddenly, Daisy wanted to remember everything.

  Crossing to her closet, she opened it and pulled out the white photo album on the top shelf. Taking it over to the bed, she sat propped by the pillows, her legs crossed under her. Slowly, she opened the album to the first page. It was a photo of her wedding party . . . their wedd
ing party. Ryan’s mom had still been alive then. Daisy’s gown had been poufy—a Cinderella ball gown. Tiny pearls decorated the tight-fitting sleeveless bodice. Ryan, with his reddish blond hair and wide smile, wore a black tuxedo, cummerbund, and black tie. He looked so handsome and as happy as she appeared to be. Daisy had loved Ryan’s mom. They’d found an apartment nearby her house in Florida. Nora had even flown to Pennsylvania for their wedding. It was the first time she’d flown, and she’d been a good sport about everything.

  Daisy’s mom had been dressed in a long, pale mauve gown. Nora’s dress had been mid-length in the palest gray. Since Daisy’s aunt Iris had been her maid of honor, she’d dressed in an aqua gown with ruching across the waist.

  Daisy ran her finger over a photo of Tessa, who had been Daisy’s bridesmaid. She’d worn the same aqua as Iris. One of her dad’s best friends was a groomsman along with one of Ryan’s friends that he’d gone to college with. They were all so young.

  Daisy and Ryan had met at Drexel University in Philadelphia. She’d been a sophomore working toward a bachelor of science degree in nutrition and foods. Ryan had been a senior, earning a bachelor’s degree in business administration. He’d been offered a job in Florida near his mom. But before he’d taken the job, he’d proposed to her and asked her to go with him. She’d hesitated and they’d spent a few months apart. But then she’d decided to quit school and go to Florida and marry him. She’d finished her degree there.

  Thinking about it now, Daisy knew that distance hadn’t been a good thing. Yes, you missed the person you loved when they were far away, but distance also allowed doubts to creep in . . . it added uncertainty about the future and worries about day-to-day living arrangements.

  After Daisy looked through the photos in that album, she put it away and lifted out another. These were the photos of their Florida home. Vi was three when they’d adopted Jazzi, moved out of a rental, and bought their own home. From the start, Violet had felt protective of her little sister. Ryan and Daisy had explained all about adoption and how Jazzi was a special child who they’d chosen. She was a child of their heart just as Violet was. There were so many photos of all of them at the beach, at Disney World, at Sea World, and at home in their own backyard. There was a photo of Jazzi when she was about ten with a little lizard on her arm. Vi had her hands in front of her face, screaming. She always ran from those lizards.

  Suddenly, Daisy couldn’t stand to look at any more photos. Those of Ryan stabbed her heart. Would that ever stop?

  With Daisy sitting on her bed once more, Pepper stood, cat-stretched, then walked onto Daisy’s lap, nestled in, and purred. Daisy petted her, knowing that her kitties could bring comfort. She needed that comfort tonight because . . . she felt alone.

  Chapter Fourteen

  On Sunday morning, Daisy and Jazzi attended church. It was a later service than usual. Vi was having morning sickness and not feeling well, so she didn’t go along. Daisy hated to doubt her daughter, but did she really have morning sickness or did she just not want to talk to Daisy? Mothers’ hearts were tender, but sometimes they couldn’t let their children see that. Daisy knew she had to be careful with what steps she took with Vi and Foster. Hopefully, the church service would help a bit. Reverend Kemp was kind, thoughtful, and insightful. He could apply the concepts of the New Testament to everyday life. It was pretty much an interdenominational community. Daisy liked that fact most of all.

  This church had been built about a hundred years ago. A historical plaque on the front brick wall proclaimed its established date. Simply fashioned, the church had been repainted inside about five years ago, according to Daisy’s mom. That was when Reverend Kemp had taken the job as pastor. In his late forties, he was married with two children. He knew about family life.

  The altar was simple with a cross hung from the ceiling above it. The podium was to the left. Reverend Kemp had ordered cushions for the pews after the church was painted. They were deep burgundy and made services more comfortable.

  Today the pastor’s message to his congregation was about spring and rebirth. Daisy tried to keep her mind on his sermon, but her thoughts kept wandering to Violet and Foster . . . to Harriet, June, and Derek Schumacher.

  When the service was over, Daisy touched Jazzi’s hand. “Let’s just sit here a little longer. Today I don’t feel like being stopped by a lot of people and have to carry on a conversation.”

  “Good idea,” Jazzi agreed. “I know what you mean. I can’t stop thinking about Vi’s baby and what she’s going to do.”

  Daisy squeezed Jazzi’s hand. They waited until most of the pews had emptied, and then they went down the side aisle to one of the exits. But when they stepped outside, Daisy found a group gathered there. She recognized everyone immediately—Bradley Schumacher, his wife Lauren, and a little girl of about three who was absolutely adorable in a pink dress with ruffles decorating the skirt. The church secretary, Vanna Huffnagle, also stood there chatting along with Reverend Kemp.

  Vanna was saying, “You give Harriet my regards. I think about her. I’m going to make time this week to visit. Should I call her first?”

  “That would probably be best,” Bradley acknowledged.

  Reverend Kemp laid his hand on Bradley’s shoulder. “I want you to tell me if there’s anything I can do to lessen your burden. I know grief comes and goes in waves. One day you’re perfectly fine and the next day you’re not. How is Harriet holding up?”

  Lauren said, “Since her sister June came to stay with her, she seems better. But I’m sure she’d welcome a visit from you.”

  Reverend Kemp looked a bit embarrassed when he said, “I’ve been remiss in not visiting her more after her stroke. I did visit her about a month ago. I do have something to say, and I don’t know if you or Harriet want to hear.”

  “We know you’re honest with us,” Bradley said.

  The minister’s hair was brown, laced with a bit of gray. He ran his fingers through it now as if he was thinking about exactly how to put what he had to say into words . . . and maybe be kind at the same time.

  Daisy held her breath, wondering what was coming.

  “I know Harriet went through rehab and had to work very hard while she was there. The physical therapists wouldn’t have let her come home otherwise. But when she was in rehab, I spoke with her physical therapist. She was afraid that after Harriet returned home, she wouldn’t try as hard to stay strong . . . to do her exercises every day so she didn’t get muscle cramps. I really think if she pushed herself a little more, she could get around better than she does, maybe without that wheelchair.”

  “I’m hoping with June staying in Willow Creek for the time being,” Bradley explained, “that will give Mom motivation to return to physical therapy. I’m going to talk to June about it tonight when we visit Mom. The one thing that does brighten her up is seeing Chrissy.”

  Chrissy, who had been quiet up until now, pulled on her mother’s hand. “Can we go? I’m hun-gy.”

  She was an adorable little girl with brown ringlets surrounding her oval face. Daisy could see how this child would brighten Harriet’s life. Would having a grandchild of her own brighten hers?

  If she didn’t alienate Vi and Foster. If they decided to keep the baby, would Foster really stay by Vi’s side?

  So many questions with no immediate answers.

  The reverend was speaking again. “The physical therapy facility is only fifteen minutes from Harriet’s home. Maybe you could make an appointment for her and just take her in to look around.”

  “If she’s going to return to therapy,” Lauren said, “we’d better let her make an appointment herself. If we don’t, she’ll be angry, and she doesn’t get over anger easily.”

  “I’ll pray that she’s open to your suggestions, and also that she’ll consider physical therapy as a real benefit to living a more fulfilling life.”

  One of the things Daisy liked about Reverend Kemp was that he was always positive. But convincing someone to cha
nge their behavior could be impossible. She wondered why the minister believed Harriet could do more than she does now. That was a question for another time. Both she and Jazzi wanted to get home. Maybe if they were around Vi enough, she would open up to them more.

  Daisy could only hope.

  * * *

  Daisy thought about taking a cup of tea up to Violet who’d been in her room with the door closed most of the day. After church Daisy had made pancakes and offered a plate to her older daughter. When Daisy returned upstairs to check on her a half hour later, Vi had only eaten half of one pancake and wanted no part of conversation.

  After Daisy had put a roast in the Crock-Pot for tonight—she knew Foster liked that—Daisy had checked on Vi again and she was napping. Daisy had just finished preparing a salad and set it in the refrigerator, when Jazzi came into the kitchen.

  She put her elbows on the island counter, and her black hair swung forward as she leaned down. “Vi won’t talk to me either.”

  Daisy gave her a look. “That’s one of the most worrisome parts of this,” she confessed. “Vi and I have always been able to talk.”

  “I’ve always been able to talk to her, too, but now I know why she hasn’t called me. I have plenty of schoolwork to do along with practicing for the talent show, so I can keep my mind off of dinner tonight. What about you?”

  “I’ll just putter. Maybe peel the potatoes.”

  “You can peel those closer to dinner. I know you’re anxious about her, Mom. Don’t you have something you can investigate?”

  When Daisy considered that, she thought about Miranda Senft and the way she’d come and gone from the funeral home. No expression. No condolences for the family. What was with that?

  “Maybe I do have something to investigate.”

  Jazzi gave her a smile. “Good. What?”

  Should she include Jazzi in this conversation? Wasn’t it better if Jazzi was out of it altogether? Still, these days, any conversation created a bond with her daughter. So there was no harm in talking a little bit about the investigation.