She rapped on his office door. When he looked up, he smiled. “Hi, Mrs. Swanson. Is there something I can help you with?”
“Please call me Daisy. And there is something you can help me with. Do you have a few minutes?”
He studied his desk, the manila folders, the loose papers, the red pens and highlighters. Then his gaze traveled to his computer. Finally, he determined, “The work will still be here a few minutes from now. Sure, I have a few minutes for one of the parents.”
Daisy moved deeper into the office. “I’m not here in my parental capacity, though I do want to tell you the guidance counselor, Mrs. Cotton, really helped me with Jazzi. She’s good, efficient, and more than competent.”
“Good to know.” Bradley’s voice was even but he had questions in his eyes. “So what did you need to talk to me about?”
“Can we talk about Derek?”
“Derek,” he exhaled with a resigned sigh. “I don’t know what’s left to talk about.”
“I need to ask you a question.”
“All right. Ask away.”
“Did you know who Derek’s father was? Did you know that your mother was raped and Derek was the result of that?”
Bradley’s mouth opened, then closed, and opened again. It seemed he couldn’t find any words. He turned pale and he looked shocked. Daisy didn’t think he could be simulating those reactions.
Rubbing his hand across his forehead, he closed his eyes. His voice was low as he murmured, “That history would explain a lot.”
“What do you mean?” Daisy asked gently.
“I never knew anything about what you say happened to my mother. And my dad? He never acted as if he knew anything either. I always thought my dad and Derek didn’t get along because Derek was a difficult child and an even more difficult teen. But maybe my dad did know what happened to Mom. From what I understand, my dad married my mom when Derek was two. I was born a year after they married. But I don’t see how this has anything to do with Derek’s death. Granted, my mother and Derek were never close, at least they didn’t seem to be. It was as if there was no bond at all between them. I always wondered if that made Derek feel adrift. I can see it now. I could always see how Mom favored me, and I felt guilty about it. Again, I just thought that was a personality difference. I really don’t understand how it has anything to do with Derek’s death.”
Daisy wasn’t convinced. “What if Derek could somehow have known what had happened?”
“I don’t know for sure, but I don’t think so. Derek was outspoken. If he’d learned about the rape, I think he would have told me, especially when Mom had her stroke.”
From Bradley’s reaction, Daisy didn’t believe he’d hurt his brother. But she still didn’t know for certain. Just because Bradley hadn’t known about his mother’s history didn’t mean that he and Derek couldn’t have had an argument about something, an argument that had turned angry.
Keeping her thoughts on track, she asked Bradley, “Will you let your mother realize that you know?”
“I’m not sure what I’m going to do. I truly don’t know if the police need to have this information or not. Why embarrass my mom? Why bring up a past she wants to forget?”
“Maybe the detective needs to know a significant piece of your mom’s past.”
Bradley sighed. “I’ll think about it. Thank you for telling me. Now I understand my mother and my childhood much better. Her treatment of the two of us could have been the cause of Derek’s anger when he acted out.”
“Bradley, I’m so sorry about everything that has happened.”
He shrugged. “The older I get, the more I realize that life is hard. Only the strong survive.”
After Daisy ended the conversation with Bradley, bid him good-bye, and headed down the hall, she felt sorry for his whole family.
* * *
Daisy returned to the tea garden to help take inventory and close up for the day. To her surprise, Jonas and Detective Zeke Willet sat at a table in the main tea room. Jonas wore a chambray shirt with the sleeves rolled up and jeans. In contrast, Zeke was dressed professionally in a white oxford, button-down collar shirt and black dress slacks. A sports jacket was draped over one of the chairs. In front of each of the men were bowls of beef barley soup, brown sugar biscuits she’d baked earlier, and mugs of tea. Was Detective Willet a tea drinker, or had he given in to Jonas’s encouragement to try it? The tea might have been brewed for them, but by their expressions and body language, she could tell tension brewed between them too.
Jonas immediately stood when she approached them. Zeke Willet did not. Jonas’s smile was just for her when he said, “I wanted to introduce Zeke to the best gathering place in Willow Creek.”
She motioned for Jonas to sit, and she took the chair at the round table between the two men. There were no other customers in the tea room.
Iris waved to her from the case that she was emptying of the day’s selections.
“It’s not much of a gathering place right now,” she confessed. “Business has been terribly slow. I answered the comments on the blog as Foster suggested, but I don’t think that did much good.”
Zeke finished the last of the soup in his bowl and laid his spoon beside the dish. “Has business slacked off because of the murder?” he asked.
“It has. In small towns, news travels. Everyone knows Derek ate something from here that killed him. The fact that it wasn’t poison isn’t for public consumption. New customers and even old customers think it was our food that did it.”
Zeke almost scowled, his eyebrows sneaking up. “You know what was in the food?”
She kept her voice low. “Yes, I know. Blood pressure medication. Detective Rappaport shared that with me.”
Zeke looked her straight in the eye. “Why?”
“Zeke—” Jonas warned.
She didn’t want to increase the tension between the two men, but just because Zeke was a detective didn’t mean he could run roughshod over her either. She placed her hand on Jonas’s, so he didn’t try to defend her. “You could say I’ve helped Detective Rappaport with his last couple of cases. We’ve come to an understanding.”
“And what kind of understanding is that?” Zeke asked tersely.
Already, Daisy could feel heat crawling up her neck to her face. “The understanding that I’ll be honest with him if he’s honest with me. Are you on the case?”
Jonas moved his fingers under hers, maybe as a warning.
“I’m becoming acquainted with it.”
“That’s good,” Daisy acknowledged. “There are so many suspects. If you help Detective Rappaport with interviews, that should help.”
“You don’t have to be concerned about our suspects and interviews.”
His patronizing tone added fuel to her long fuse that was growing shorter by the second. “Oh, but I do. If this murder isn’t solved soon, Daisy’s Tea Garden is going to fail.”
Zeke’s eyes narrowed. “That won’t be on us.”
“I didn’t say it would. It would be on the murderer. If I find out information here and there and it can help Detective Rappaport, I’ll share it with him. I have a stake in this, Detective Willet.”
“Just make sure your stake doesn’t mess with our investigation or—”
Daisy held up her hand to stop him. “That’s an old song Detective Rappaport has sung more than once. Believe me, I don’t want to steal any of your glory. I just want to learn who killed Derek Schumacher.”
Zeke looked as if he wanted to say more. Instead, he pushed back his chair and rose to his feet. “I’d better be going. I have reading to catch up on at the station or those interviews to schedule that you mentioned.” He nodded to Jonas. “See you around.” To Daisy he said, “Your food is good.”
She knew there was a but there. Something like, But your attitude needs an adjustment. Still, she had to give him credit for not saying it.
When Zeke started to take his wallet from his pocket, Jonas said, “I’ve got t
his.”
Zeke nodded, scooped up his sports jacket from the vacant chair, and left the tea garden.
“Don’t say it,” she said to Jonas after Zeke left.
“Say what?” Jonas asked ingenuously.
“That I should have kept my mouth shut.”
His hand closed around hers. “Does that mean you’ve been sleuthing?”
“It means I might have told someone something I shouldn’t have.”
“I see. I stopped at the station to meet Zeke. The police grapevine says that they’re bringing Harriet back in for questioning.”
“So soon? I wonder if they discovered . . .” She stopped.
“Spill it, Daisy. What do you know?”
When she hesitated, she saw the troubled and disappointed look in Jonas’s eyes. “Are we back to square one?” he asked gently.
Square one? No, they knew too much about each other now. Her feelings had grown past what was safe. “No, not square one.”
He obviously knew what she meant, that the rocks in the road had tripped them up and they would be moving forward the best way they could.
He ran his thumb over the top of her hand. “You don’t have to tell me.”
Daisy released a sigh. “I told Bradley something about his mother that he didn’t know. It was a secret. If Detective Rappaport found out about it, Harriet is going to be devastated that it’s now revealed.”
Jonas shook his head. When he did, a lock of his hair fell over his brow and she had the urge to brush it away.
“You know that an investigation brings everything into the light,” Jonas said. “Is it about Derek’s parentage?”
Jonas was still a good detective whether he wanted to be or not. She nodded.
“Remember, the more that’s added to this story, the easier it will be for Detective Rappaport to figure it out.”
Daisy could only hope that was true.
* * *
A short while after Jonas left, Daisy spotted Russ Windom enter the tea garden and sit at a table over by the wall of shelves that housed teapots for sale. Iris went to his table, then to the kitchen to brew tea with her color high. Russ was grinning from ear to ear, and Daisy suspected why. Russ’s grin could only mean one thing.
Daisy stopped by his table. “Afternoon snack?” she asked.
“Oh yes. And a chance to talk with Iris.”
“She looked as though there was a spring in her step when she went back to the kitchen,” Daisy prompted.
“There’s going to be a spring in my step too. She’s going out with me.”
Daisy was happy for her aunt and for Russ. Even if they merely found companionship and became good friends, that was important. “Do you have a date planned?”
“I do. On Iris’s next day off, we’re going for a buggy ride. They’ve started again for the tourist season. We’re going to travel around the countryside and then have supper at Sarah Jane’s. Do you think she’ll like that?”
“I do. I bet she hasn’t ridden in a buggy in years. We’ve had lovely weather lately, and I think you’ll have a good time. I’m so glad you asked her.”
“Sometimes I get the feeling she’s as lonely as I am.”
Daisy’s aunt Iris had always been satisfied living her life on her own terms. She’d had a serious relationship years ago, but it had fallen apart, though Daisy didn’t know why. When Iris and Daisy decided to become joint owners of the tea garden, her aunt seemed to be perfectly satisfied with her life and ecstatic about starting a new venture. But after her last brief romance had ended in tragedy, she had seemed to consider life differently. Maybe she wanted companionship for her golden years . . . or maybe she wanted more.
Iris was arranging a tray with two teacups and serving dishes when Daisy returned to the kitchen. She winked at her aunt, so Iris knew what she knew. Iris’s smile grew even wider.
“Would you like me to take the tray to Russ’s table?” Daisy suggested. “You can bring the pot after the tea steeps.”
“Sounds good,” Iris said with her eyes twinkling. “I’ll bring the honey too. He likes that in his oolong.”
Smiling because already Iris remembered a detail about Russ, Daisy carried the tray to his table and set it down. “Tea will be coming shortly.”
Russ helped her remove the dishes and cups from the tray and set them on the table. “I visited June Seachrist this morning. Lauren had driven Harriet to an appointment at the medical center.”
“You know June?”
“I knew her way back when. She was ahead of me in school, but my mother would take sewing projects to her and I often tagged along. She and I both had an interest in the classics, and we discussed them.”
“Did Harriet have a regular checkup?”
“Apparently she is looking into more physical therapy. That will be good for her.” He hesitated a moment, then went on. “When I was speaking to June, she seemed terribly distracted.”
“Maybe she’s thinking about returning home.”
Russ shook his head. “No, I think she’s planning on staying here at least another month, and there’s a reason for that. She’s helping Harriet go through Derek’s things.”
“Do you think that’s what distracted her?”
“I do. There was a manila folder on the coffee table, and her eyes kept going to that. I didn’t ask what it was because I didn’t want to pry.”
Could June have found something important? Something that might have gotten Derek killed? That could be a reach, but Daisy intended to find out just what it might be.
Chapter Twenty
Work on the garage had started when Violet came home from college on Friday. Daisy watched as Foster told her pregnant daughter not to lift anything more than five pounds. Daisy had to smile. He was going to be protective.
“I can’t wait for you to see the garage,” Daisy said as they all stopped in the living room to take a breath. Foster had been up and down the stairs twice with huge suitcases of Vi’s. Vi carried a table light from her dorm room, ready for her second trip up the stairs.
“I can’t wait to see what’s going on,” Vi said.
“The Sheetrock’s going up,” Daisy explained. “Next will be electrical work and plumbing. And Jonas is going to start building the cabinets. You’ll have to decide if you want them stained or painted.”
“Another decision,” Vi mused as if she were already tired of making them.
“Get used to it,” Daisy advised her. “Once you have a baby, you’ll have to make ten decisions a day at least.”
“My dad’s finally talking to me without growling,” Foster revealed as he pushed his glasses up to the bridge of his nose.
Daisy stooped and picked up one of the boxes that Foster had brought inside earlier. When she straightened again, she addressed Foster. “I’m glad. I’ll have to invite him over to dinner, maybe when you’re all free.”
Jazzi came in the front door next, carrying Vi’s laptop and headphones.
“Careful with that,” Vi warned.
Jazzi just rolled her eyes. “As if I don’t know how to be careful with a computer.”
The two sisters studied each other for a moment, then Jazzi said, “In a week or so, I’ll have to get used to you being home again.”
“Same here,” Vi agreed. “My roommate was out of the dorm room more than she was in.”
“Boyfriend?” Jazzi guessed.
“Oh yeah,” Vi confirmed.
Hiding her smile, Daisy suspected Vi and Jazzi wouldn’t have a problem sharing the upstairs once more.
Upstairs, as Jazzi set the laptop on Vi’s desk in her room, Daisy glanced over at Vi as Foster lifted a suitcase onto the bed. “We’re all going to Gram and Gramp’s house on Sunday. Aunt Camellia is driving down. I thought maybe you and I could make dessert.”
“Sure,” Vi agreed. “We could either do it Saturday night or Sunday after church.”
Jazzi’s cell phone played from her pocket. She plucked it out, glanced at the sc
reen, then stared at her mom. “It’s Portia.”
“Go to your room and close the door if you’d like. Try to listen to her,” Daisy said.
With a nod, Jazzi headed across the hall to her own bedroom. Daisy heard her say, “Hi, Portia,” as she closed her door.
Obviously perceptive about what was happening, Vi gave her closed suitcase a pat. “Foster and I will go downstairs. That way you can talk to Jazzi in private when she’s finished.”
Daisy gave Vi a hug. “If you want, I’ll start unpacking your suitcase while I wait. It will give my hands something to do.”
“Sure. Go ahead. I’ll rearrange later.” With a grin she followed Foster out of the room and down the stairs.
After Daisy unzippered the suitcase on the bed, she tried not to think about the conversation in Jazzi’s bedroom. She didn’t want her youngest daughter to be hurt. She also knew she couldn’t protect her forever. It had been so much easier when Jazzi had been a baby and then in grade school. During these teenage years with Jazzi, Daisy knew worries would stack up one on the other as Jazzi learned to drive, as she dated, as she searched for the right college. But she’d never really imagined this situation with Portia, and she also wondered now if Jazzi would want to search for her birth father. They’d never really talked about that, and Jazzi had never said whether she and Portia had spoken about it. Finding one parent had taken all of Jazzi’s emotional energy. What was happening now was continuing to do that unless the situation could be resolved. Maybe it never would be.
Remembering where Vi used to keep her T-shirts, her pajamas, her hair clips, and her socks, Daisy stowed them all away in the dresser. She kept busy and was hanging the last dress in the closet when Jazzi opened her bedroom door and came into Vi’s bedroom.
The first thing Daisy looked for were tears on Jazzi’s face. But she couldn’t see any obvious ones. “How are you?”
Sitting on Vi’s bed, Jazzi tossed her phone down in front of her. “I’m okay.”
Giving Jazzi time to gather her thoughts, Daisy waited.
“I tried to do like you said and just listen. Portia seemed a little better. Colton moved back into the house, but there’s a wall between them. Apparently, he doesn’t want to talk about me.”
Murder with Cucumber Sandwiches Page 23