Murder with Lemon Tea Cakes

by Karen Rose Smith

  “But you don’t want to worry her,” he guessed.

  “You’re an astute man.”

  “I’ve been working on it for years.”

  Daisy had to laugh at that.

  “I’m so astute,” he went on, “that I’ve noticed what a fine celebration you’ve given Harvey. He looks pleased in spite of the unpleasant interruption.”

  “Something like that can ruin a business’s reputation if everyone doesn’t have a good time.”

  “Look around,” he said, motioning to the room and all the guests in it. “They’re smiling, drinking, eating, talking. That’s just what you want here, isn’t it?”

  “It is. I couldn’t have done it without my staff’s help.”

  His half smile told her he appreciated her outlook. That appreciation felt good.

  He put some of that appreciation into words. “I admire the way you’re making Daisy’s Tea Garden a Willow Creek success. Many places like this fail. But you have loads of regulars and tourists who like to stop here.”

  “Woods will be a success too. The furniture in your store is beautiful. It takes time to build a brand. I hear you’re making some of the furniture yourself now.”

  “That’s true. I am. Woodworking has always been a hobby.”

  Ah, something else she hadn’t known about him.

  “Do you hear much from your older daughter now that she’s in college?” he asked, switching the attention from himself to her again. He obviously paid attention to detail. She often mentioned Vi and her college aspirations in conversations with regular customers.

  “She calls once a week, but in her last call she said she’s busy and might not be home until Thanksgiving.”

  “That upsets you?” He was looking at her as if he were a detective again trying to ferret out the truth.

  No reason not to be honest. “It upsets me because I’m her mom and I want to see her. I miss her as much as Jazzi does. But on the other hand, I know she has to make the most of her college experience. She’ll form friendships that could last a lifetime and learn social skills she needs. But I worry about her weekends there—everything you hear about college, including frat parties. I don’t want her getting into trouble. Since I’m at a distance, I have very little say about whether she does or not. She’s only two hours away, but it seems a world away.”

  “Being a parent isn’t for the fainthearted.”

  “No, and thank goodness I have my parents, my sister, and Aunt Iris. Raising kids really does take a village.”

  He looked thoughtful for a moment, then said, “When kids go wrong, most of the time they don’t have the village behind them. They don’t even have that one person that matters behind them. I can’t tell you that you’re worrying for nothing, but it seems to me Jazzi and Vi have a lot behind them—everything they need.”

  Daisy studied Jonas’s face, the scar on his cheekbone, the slight wave in his black hair, the intelligence and maybe even curiosity in his eyes. They hadn’t spoken like this in all the afternoons he’d come in to enjoy a mug of tea. He liked his tea in a mug, unlike most of her clientele.

  She heard her name called. Checking over her shoulder, she found Tessa waving to her. Her kitchen manager was standing at the table with some of Harvey’s guests, and two of them were leaving.

  “I have to see what Tessa wants.”

  “Go,” he said easily. “I’m leaving too. I’ll see you around.”

  “See you around,” she repeated as Jonas walked toward the door.

  Daisy gave Jonas’s back one last look, then crossed the room to Tessa. One of the women who’d stood to leave said to Daisy, “I just wanted to tell you I enjoyed that strawberry layered-cake pastry that I tried. Is that always on your menu?”

  Daisy hadn’t seen this woman come into the tea garden before. “We have different offerings every day, but you can always order one you especially like.”

  The woman seemed pleased with that notion. “I’d like to take home a dozen of the lemon tea cakes, but your waitress says you’re not prepared to do that after a celebration like this. Does that mean I have to come into the tea garden tomorrow to buy them?”

  What to do? Of course, she wanted this woman to come to the tea garden tomorrow when their cases were full of goodies and she’d probably buy more than the lemon tea cakes. However, pleasing the customer was all part of the marketing package.

  “I have extra lemon tea cakes stowed away that I was going to take home tonight. You’re welcome to those. I’ll get them for you.”

  As Daisy hurried to the kitchen to gather up the tea cakes, she wasn’t thinking about the woman who had asked for them. She was thinking about Jonas Groft and their conversation. In her experience, men especially underestimated her. But that didn’t seem to be the case with Jonas. He appeared to see clearly what she could do. She liked the feeling that gave her.

  Over the next half hour, the celebration wound down, as Harvey’s guests slowly took their leave, continuing their conversations on the front porch of the pale green Victorian with white and yellow trim. As the guest of honor, he went from table to table, talking to them all. He was a congenial man. After all, his store couldn’t have been so successful if he didn’t have good public relations skills. A hands-on owner, he made sure of details, checked displays, and went over orders himself, according to her aunt. Daisy respected his dedication to Men’s Trends.

  Tessa crossed to Daisy and took a look around. “Jazzi did a good job bussing the tables after you talked to her.”

  “I shouldn’t have had to talk to her.”

  “She’s in the back on her phone. Is there anything you’d like her to do?”

  After Daisy thought about it, she shook her head. “No. I have to pick my battles or I’ll never win the war, though I’m not even sure what the war’s about.”

  “It could be a new guy she likes.”

  “She’s too young.”

  Tessa gave Daisy a “you’re kidding me” look.

  “All right, so I want to think she’s too young,” Daisy countered. “I really don’t want to get into the subject of a steady boyfriend with her. It’s group dates or nothing at her age.”

  “She’s going to tell you that you’re living in the Dark Ages.”

  “Maybe I am,” Daisy said with a sigh. “It’s not like I even know how to date. It’s been a long time since I gave off signals to men that I was available.”

  “You didn’t seem to have any trouble talking to Jonas.”

  Tessa was a good friend, and someone who could maybe understand where she was in life. “That conversation was a little different from the surface ones we usually have.”

  “Maybe he’s making his move.”

  Daisy laughed outright. “I don’t think so.”

  “Maybe you should make one.”

  Daisy thought about Cade and how she’d asked him to dinner, and how that hadn’t turned up anything romantic. “I tried that, and it didn’t work.”

  Just then the last table of Harvey’s guests bade him good-bye and left, chatting among themselves.

  Daisy was about to cross to Harvey herself when she suddenly changed her mind. Harvey was pulling her Aunt Iris over to a corner table that was a little more secluded than the others. He held up his hand as if telling her to stay there, went to his chair, and produced something from his trench coat pocket. When he sat down across from her aunt at the table for two, Daisy could see that he was presenting Aunt Iris with a tea tin. It was painted with sunflowers and wrapped with a yellow ribbon tied into a bow. Her aunt beamed at him and nodded. Then Harvey stood, went to Iris, pulled her to her feet, and gave her a giant hug.

  By that time, Daisy felt she should duck back into the kitchen, but it was too late for that.

  Spotting her, Harvey came over to her and gave her a wide smile. “I just want to tell you how much I enjoyed the celebration today and your lovely service.” He produced an envelope from his pocket and handed it to her.

 
“You’ve already paid me in full,” she reminded him.

  “This is something extra that you deserve. Everyone had a wonderful time in spite of my wife’s attempts to spoil it. But she didn’t, and you and your staff picked up admirably after she left.”

  Daisy tucked the envelope into her apron pocket. “Thank you.”

  He gave Daisy a nod, said, “See you sometime soon,” waved to Iris, and left.

  Fingering the envelope in her pocket, deciding to split the money with her staff, Daisy walked over to the table where Iris was still sitting. She pointed to the tea tin. “That’s a beautiful tin. It looks as if it’s hand painted.”

  “It might be. It’s filled with one of those very expensive silver needle white teas from China. But it’s not for my everyday enjoyment. Not yet. When Harvey’s divorce is final, we’re going to celebrate by brewing a pot and talking seriously about our relationship. He’s been separated from Monica for over two years. I think he’s going to ask me to marry him.”

  “And that’s what you want?”

  “We’re both too old not to enjoy the time we have with each other. Don’t you think?”

  What Daisy thought was simple. Harvey’s divorce had to be more than final before he became involved seriously with her Aunt Iris. Was it so much easier for men to put the past behind them?

  She’d find out when and if Harvey asked Aunt Iris to be his wife.

  * * *

  On Tuesday evening, Daisy was grateful that the tea garden had been busy all day. Usually, she took one day a week off, and that was Sunday, unless they had a special party like the one they’d thrown for Harvey Fitz. In that case, she took Monday off. So yesterday had been crammed with errands, making a few meals for the rest of the week, and tidying up the house. When she’d returned to the tea garden today, she’d been pleased to see that Harvey’s celebration had brought in more customers.

  As Tessa bumped Daisy’s shoulder, she was already wearing her poncho and was ready to leave for the day. “We almost ran out of lemon tea cakes again. Some of Harvey’s guests came in today and bought dozens of them. They’re a hit. Iris had to grab a half dozen for Harvey before I sold the last ones. Are you going to put anything new on the menu this week?”

  “How about chicken soup? With colder weather, I think there will be a call for it. Mrs. Grant makes her own fine noodles, and I placed an order for them.”

  “Do you have a recipe for the soup?”

  “I finally jotted one down that I’ve been making for years. It should work well.”

  “I’m all for cooking chicken soup. Soothes the soul as well as the stomach. Maybe we should send some to Harvey’s wife.”

  “Tessa,” Daisy chided.

  “Some of the guests who stopped in mentioned how awkward that whole thing was. Imagine Harvey having to deal with her.”

  Daisy didn’t like to engage in gossip, and they certainly heard plenty of it at the tea garden. She and Iris and Tessa had found out early on that they were sort of like bartenders. When customers came in for a soothing cup of tea or soup or dessert, they liked to talk too. Mostly Daisy and her staff just listened. A nod and then “I see” was often what someone needed to feel better. Understanding went a long way.

  “Are you going to be here much longer?” Tessa asked.

  “I’m going to check tomorrow’s menu and make sure everything’s ready. Aunt Iris has a date with Harvey. What about you? Not painting tonight?” Daisy asked.

  Tessa didn’t usually wear a poncho to go back up to her apartment.

  “I’m going to stop at Revelations. Maybe I can convince Reese to go to dinner and talk art.”

  “Good luck.”

  Tessa left by the side garden door.

  Iris was pushing a broom one last time over the tile floor.

  “I’ll do that if you want to get going,” Daisy offered.

  “Just because I’m going to dinner and a play doesn’t mean I’m going to have you do my work. I still have a half hour before I meet Harvey in the garden. That will give me time to cover some of these lines on my face, add a little mascara, and freshen up my lipstick. Where’s Jazzi tonight?”

  “She’s working on a social studies project with a friend. I’m supposed to pick her up around nine.”

  “Are you going to stay here until then?”

  “I have receipts to enter on the computer, and I can work on the cookbook.”

  Aunt Iris took the broom to the closet in Daisy’s office and stuffed it inside. When she returned to the green room, she said, “I brought a pantsuit along and dressier shoes to change into.” She untied her apron.

  “Now I see why you need a half hour,” Daisy joked. “This isn’t just a dab of lipstick date.”

  “Not too dressy. After I meet Harvey in the garden, we’re going for an autumn walk along the creek to admire the leaves. We’re both looking forward to the play at Willow Creek Little Theater tonight. Then afterward, we’re going to Harvey’s condo. He’s having a personal chef prepare our meal. Though he did ask me to bring along lemon tea cakes to hold us over until dinner.”

  “You could get used to that—a personal chef, a BMW, cruises, and trips to Europe.”

  Her Aunt Iris frowned. “When you put it like that, it does sound like a whole different life, doesn’t it? I can get used to that as long as I have ordinary pleasures too. And I certainly wouldn’t want to give up working here with you.”

  Daisy wasn’t sure cruises and trips to Europe left much time for her aunt to be working at the tea garden if she and Harvey got married. But that was a discussion for another day.

  Daisy had decided to brew herself a cup of a pomegranate green tea when her aunt returned to the kitchen, looking like a woman who couldn’t wait to go on a date. She was indeed wearing makeup, which had been rare before Harvey Fitz. Her taupe pantsuit, a string of pearls, and her brown flats were perfect for an autumn walk and a play. Dinner at Harvey’s condo? Daisy didn’t know what would be perfect for that. Had Harvey and her aunt progressed beyond kissing?

  Not going there.

  Aunt Iris pulled her camel-colored coat from the coatrack in the office, then went to the counter for the bag of lemon tea cakes she’d set there. “Don’t work too hard,” Iris told her as she gave her a hug. “Oh, and can you pick me up in the morning and bring me to work? I’ll leave my car here because we’ll probably take Harvey’s. He’ll just drop me off at home.”

  “That’s fine. Why don’t you have a cup of tea with me until he gets here?”

  “He’s usually prompt, or even early. I’ll just go out to the garden and wait for him. I really should check the thyme and oregano. If they’re not producing as much as we need, you might have to order from the supplier.”

  “Don’t sit out there alone if Harvey’s late.”

  “I won’t,” her aunt assured her, gave her hand a squeeze, and then left through the side-garden door, carrying her purse and the bag of tea cakes.

  Daisy had picked up her two-cup vintage teapot with its hand-painted lilac pattern when she heard a bloodcurdling scream.

  That was her aunt!

  “Aunt Iris,” she called as she set down the teapot, exited the side door, and ran through the garden.

  She froze when she spotted Harvey’s body crumpled in the herb garden.

  Her Aunt Iris had spilled the bag of lemon tea cakes and was on her knees next to him. “Harvey! Harvey!” she called.

  However, Daisy saw where Harvey’s skull had been bashed in. She saw the blood. She rushed forward to take Harvey’s pulse and to look for any sign of life.

  But there was none.

  Harvey Fitz was dead.

  Chapter Four

  An hour later, Daisy’s Tea Garden was buzzing with activity. Daisy felt shaky but so vigilant that her skin crawled every time she heard a noise. Her aunt, who had been separated from her and led to the office by a patrol officer, didn’t look much better. Even through the glass partition, Daisy could see that her aunt
was pale, pale enough to faint. Daisy’s thoughts sped through her mind much too fast to catch. Willow Creek’s chief of police, Eli Schultz, stood in the office with Iris who sat in the desk chair. Eli was gruff, no nonsense, and abrupt. Daisy wished she could be beside Iris, giving her support. Eli Schultz had better not browbeat her.

  In Willow Creek, the chief was mostly a paper pusher. His force took care of petty crimes, domestic disturbances, and traffic violations. But he did have one detective under his command, and that was the man who came in the door to the tea garden now. The detective didn’t come for tea, although he’d been in a time or two for scones. Willow Creek was small enough that the locals knew each other. Detective Rappaport, whose keen eyes fell on Daisy now, had spoken to the high school kids about drinking and drugs.

  When Chief of Police Schultz spotted him, he emerged from the office and consulted with the detective out of earshot.

  Aunt Iris gave Daisy a little wave to let her know she was okay. But neither of them was really okay. How could they be? Harvey Fitz was dead, and he’d been murdered in their garden.

  Detective Rappaport came toward her first. He looked to be in his late fifties. He had thick, blond-gray hair, grooves along his mouth, and plenty of lines on his face. As he approached her, he took a notebook and pen from his trench coat pocket.

  “I’m Detective Rappaport,” he said. “And you’re Daisy Swanson, co-owner of the tea garden?”

  “That’s right.”

  “How about you tell me what happened here.”

  “I already told the chief of police.”

  The detective gave her a steady look, then warned her, “You’re probably going to be telling this several more times—down at the station tomorrow, for instance, where you’ll give your signed statement. But for now, I need to take a few notes and make sure exactly what happened. So go over it for me, all right?”

  She quickly did, all the while glancing through the glass partition to where her aunt was. She was worried about her.

  After she told Rappaport what had happened, he asked, “Why do you keep trying to make eye contact with your aunt?”

  Daisy was tired, queasy, and not in the mood for suspicion. “Because I’m worried about her. She thought she was going to marry Harvey, and now the man is dead. Wouldn’t you be worried about somebody you cared about?”