Murder with Lemon Tea Cakes

by Karen Rose Smith

  “That’s a good question,” the young woman answered. “I’m no longer with Men’s Trends. Bennett let me go. He’s downsizing already. Since I was only part-time, I just didn’t have the sales slips some of the others did.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I have an interview with a men’s shop in York—Gents. It’s the store that’s rumored to be interested in buying Men’s Trends. I heard negotiations have been in the works for a while. I don’t know how everyone kept it such a secret.”

  “But Bennett’s in charge until the sale goes through?”

  “That’s right. He wants to keep the shop high-end, and he wants to keep the receipts up. Maybe he thinks that by doing that he’ll have something to bargain with and can get the managerial spot if Gents buys the place. I’m trying to dress for success for this interview. How do you think I should go? It’s a men’s shop. Should I take a risk and dress in menswear? Like a lady-style tuxedo jacket, slim trousers, cool tie? Or should I go the usual business suit that shows off a woman’s figure, in red or maybe yellow so I stand out?”

  “Do you know the clientele at Gents?”

  “I’ve been in the store. It’s about the same as Men’s Trends, though maybe not quite as pretentious.”

  Daisy laughed. “I know what you mean. Do you know what the owner’s like? Staid, conservative, open to new trends?”

  “No more open to new trends than Harvey, though Harvey had gone a little wild with those faux fur vests.”

  “So wear middle of the road. Not a traditional suit, but maybe your own kind of suit—slim pants, silk tank, jacket in a complementary color. You know, not all black, not all camel, something a little different. I don’t know. You have to do what you feel comfortable with.”

  Caroline, who was a pretty girl with just a touch of mascara and wide lips that took lipstick well, said, “I think you could be right. I’ll mix and match until I get the look I want. Thank you, Daisy.”

  “I make scones for a living. Don’t take my fashion advice too seriously.”

  “I won’t,” Caroline said with a little laugh.

  Daisy and Caroline ended up trying on clothes together. They turned up their noses at each other’s outfits or gave thumbs-up signs. Although what Daisy tried on was satisfactory, it didn’t wow her. Whenever she thought about Vi’s college expenses, and eventually Jazzi’s, that put a damper on her buying anything for herself. Along with the never-ending worry about business at the tea garden, she tried to be frugal. That’s why whatever she bought had to have more than one use.

  On another turn around the shop, she went to the rack in the back and stopped when she spotted a dress that reminded her of one she might wear with Ryan on a Florida night as they went out to dinner. It had a jacket and a halter top. The material was swirls of deep purple and sapphire blue. Ryan would have liked it. She could remember Ryan and many of the details about him—from the color of his eyes to the width of his smile to the way he walked and the sound of his laughter. However, some of the details and memories were growing dimmer, and it was hard for her to recall them. She didn’t want to let go of them, but she didn’t know how to keep them vivid either.

  Caroline emerged from the dressing room in chocolate-brown slim slacks, an ivory silk shirt, and a cropped leather jacket. It was a put-together outfit for a younger woman, and it looked terrific.

  “I’d hire you in that ensemble,” Daisy told her honestly.

  Caroline laughed. “The jacket’s a little more than I want to spend, but I think the outfit will be a good investment. Thanks for your opinion. How about you?”

  “I’m running out of time. I have three more dresses I want to try, and then that will be it. If none of them are right, I’ll find something old to use.”

  She took three selections from the rack, including the one that made her think of Ryan. In the dressing room, she quickly slipped on one and then the second and the third. She’d known right away which one she’d take, but she had to make sure by seeing them with her coloring. She chose the one with the halter top. The dress had a fairly open back, which was something she didn’t usually wear. Was she too modest, or not adventurous enough?

  The fact that the dress had an open back didn’t mean a lot because there was also a jacket with it. The jacket was a soft, fluid material, like the dress, but was fitted and looked as if it belonged. With bold gold fashion jewelry and her hair swept to one side or mounded on top of her head, she’d look dressed up, feminine, and put together enough to be the up-and-coming business owner she was.

  When she took the dress to the counter, Caroline was just checking out and paying her bill. “That will be beautiful on you,” she said sincerely. “It will bring out the blond of your hair and complement your eyes, and if you wear fuchsia nail polish, you’ll be hot.”

  “I don’t know if I want to look hot, but I do want to look dressed up.” She studied the wall of shoes across the room.

  “Don’t go with practical,” Caroline said. “Choose something strappy, maybe with a wedge. If you really want to go big, buy purple. If you want to stay more classic, then black will do.”

  Should she go with purple? There was a pair on display that was designed with straps around the front and little gold buckles holding the straps together. The heels were about two inches high, and they were doable. She wouldn’t break her neck walking in them.

  Daisy left the Rainbow Flamingo ten minutes later, unreasonably pleased with what she’d bought. It had been a couple of years since she’d splurged like this. She knew she’d probably regret it when she sat down with the bills for the month, but she’d worry about it then. She usually put her needs aside in favor of what her daughters needed. That’s the way it should be. But now she felt she was earning a position in the town, and she needed to dress for success as well as for her own self-esteem. Maybe if she had time, she could get an appointment at Curly Cues. It was a highly regarded hair salon in town, but Daisy had never been there. She and Jazzi and Violet usually cut each other’s hair.

  Still, for once, just once, maybe she could get a good cut and style for Thursday night. With Foster covering more hours, it was possible. He’d done an excellent job yesterday, and she was hoping he’d do the same today. Afternoon tea from two to five would tell the tale. This was Bring a Friend to Tea Day at the tea garden, and all their tea room reservations were filled. Not a one left. Customers could come and go from the counter and tables in the serving area as well as outside. But the yellow tea room would be off-limits to anyone who didn’t have a reservation.

  Daisy stopped at her PT Cruiser and hung the dress inside, then lay the shoes on the seat. She’d bought a purse too, so nothing looked as if she’d borrowed it from her teenage daughter or confiscated it from her mom, who believed purses from twenty years ago were still perfectly acceptable because they were made so well. Normally, Daisy didn’t give a thought to a purse one way or the other, but today, she just wanted to feel as if everything went together as it should.

  She went through the back door of the tea garden into the kitchen. Tessa was taking a tray of cookies from the oven. She had ten multi-tiered serving trays lined up. Some were already filled with a shelf of madeleines. They were a new recipe, with maple flakes and a hint of orange zest. The chocolate raspberry scones would go on the second tier. The third tier would hold sandwiches—smoked salmon and cream cheese today, along with miniature turkey and Swiss paninis. Foster was helping Tessa ready the serving trays.

  “There’s someone here to see you,” Tessa told Daisy. “Detective Rappaport.”

  Daisy wanted to groan, but she didn’t.

  Foster interjected, “He already has your Aunt Iris in the office. She wasn’t looking happy.”

  “How long have they been in there?”

  “About ten minutes,” Foster said.

  “I’m going in.”

  Foster called after her, “You might want to knock first.”

  But Daisy just waved he
r hand and went to her office. She could see through the glass that Iris was frowning. She didn’t look particularly upset, yet she didn’t look like her jovial self either.

  Daisy opened the office door. “Good afternoon, Detective Rappaport. I hope we can make this short. We have a busy tea service to serve this afternoon. This is one of our afternoon tea days.”

  “Don’t you serve tea every day?”

  “This is a little different. We do it by reservation only. If you buy a ticket for afternoon tea—some people call it high tea, but it really isn’t—we have a sit-down experience. We don’t just serve a couple of scones and tea. We serve soup. Each table also receives a tray with savory goodies and desserts. It’s more like a tiny meal. We have sittings like this twice a week, and it’s a lot more difficult to serve than the general public in the front room. There’s a timing involved. All the servers have to be coordinated and know exactly what they’re doing as well as what they’re serving.”

  Rappaport was wearing a tan fedora. He pushed it back on his head. “Whoever thought tea could be so complicated.”

  “Not as complicated as murder,” Daisy said. “Tessa and Foster said you have questions for us?”

  “I guess nothing’s private when you all work together.”

  “Not much,” Daisy agreed. “What did you want to ask us?”

  “Did you see anyone near your aunt’s house, anyone at all?”

  “Before, during, or after the break-in?” Iris asked.

  “Anytime,” the detective stated. “Anyone who looked like he didn’t belong could be the person we’re looking for. Beforehand, he could have been casing your bungalow. Afterward, he might have hung around to watch everyone’s reactions. There’s just no knowing. That’s why I need to know if you’ve seen anybody or heard of a neighbor seeing someone.”

  Iris shook her head. “I didn’t see anyone. When I come home at night, it’s dark, and I need downtime. I haven’t talked to my neighbors since the murder because I didn’t want to answer nosy questions. After the break-in, I went to stay with my sister. I only came back to straighten up. I wasn’t focused on anything but that.”

  “One of your neighbors saw someone.”

  Daisy and Iris’s eyes went directly to the detective. “Do they know who they saw?”

  “No. Before Iris came home to clean up, your neighbor on the right, Lois Westin, saw someone skulking away from her house. They skulked up, and then they ran. She said he or she was wearing a windbreaker and a baseball cap. He or she was tall, but it was hard to tell how tall. Most of the fingerprints at Iris’s are Iris’s. But we found Harvey’s and those of family members too. Was anything missing?”

  “Some of my things were broken, but I didn’t find anything missing.”

  “No, you just found a coin that could fund a lifetime. Why did you call me about it? Why didn’t you just keep it?”

  “Because it wasn’t mine,” Iris blurted out.

  “It might have been meant for you. It might have been an engagement gift.”

  “If it was, then Harvey had a big heart. If it wasn’t, and he just wanted to hide it until the papers were signed, then he wasn’t the man I thought he was. But I can assure you, Detective, I went through my bungalow, and as you could see, it isn’t that big. Nothing else was missing.”

  Detective Rappaport noticed that the customers who had made tea reservations were starting to stream in. The noise level was going up. Foster emerged from the kitchen to direct patrons to their tables.

  Rappaport stepped out of Daisy’s office and peered into the green tea room. “It looks as though you’re going to have a full house. This murder must have done something for your business.”

  His voice was loud enough that, if customers had been standing close by, they could have heard him. Daisy was incensed. She tried to insert calm into her voice. “We had full houses on tea room days before the murder, Detective. Now if you don’t have anything else to ask us, we have business to conduct.”

  He looked a little surprised at her forcefulness, but he gave a small nod and left.

  Iris elbowed her. “You’d better be careful.”

  “No, he’d better be careful what he says. I won’t put up with him slandering us or the business. I’ll sic Marshall on him.”

  Iris gave a little chuckle. “That is one strategy. Let’s take care of our guests.”

  On afternoon tea service days, Daisy and her aunt considered their patrons guests. They served them the same way they would serve guests in their homes, taking special care with each person. Almost all of their patrons were seated. Karina and Foster had begun taking orders for the type of tea their customers preferred.

  Suddenly, someone was standing beside Daisy, and she looked up to see . . . Trevor Lundquist. He pointed to the red-haired man beside him with the freckles and tortoiseshell glasses.

  “I signed up for your Bring a Friend Day. This is David Ruiz. He’s a writer for the On the Road in PA Travel Guide.”

  Oh, my gosh, Daisy thought. If their tea garden were to be listed in a travel guide, they’d be assured of year-round business, and she’d definitely need more staff. But then, as she saw David Ruiz looking around, studying the china, the linens on the tables, and Foster and Karina, panic assailed her. What if he didn’t like what they had to offer?

  After she shook hands with David Ruiz, she said genially, “Come on. I’ll be glad to seat you myself. You can tell me what kind of tea and soup you’d like, and we’ll get you started on enjoying what we have to offer here.” She motioned to a table with two vacant chairs.

  After a quick consultation with Tessa and Foster, she told them she’d be serving that table herself.

  Foster just raised his eyebrows.

  She explained, “These are important patrons who can win us more business.” She didn’t have to explain. After all, Foster worked for her. But it was better if they were all on the same page and had the same focus.

  An hour later, although Daisy had been nervous, she’d been glad that her shaky hands hadn’t fumbled when she’d served David Ruiz and Trevor. From the serving station across the room—she didn’t want to be too obvious—she watched Trevor and David as they enjoyed tea, soup, salad, and the sandwich and dessert courses. Once, Trevor caught her glancing his way, and he winked.

  She didn’t know if she should feel buoyed by that or just attribute the gesture to his gregarious personality.

  Other customers, mostly women, were lingering over their tea, madeleines, and conversation, and Trevor and David were among the first to finish.

  She crossed the room to them and escorted them to the door. She said to David, “It was good to have you here.” He just smiled. He went out the door first, and she asked Trevor, “Well?”

  “He didn’t say what he thought. You’ll find out when he writes it up. Does this seal the deal?”

  He meant their exclusive interview. After all, he had brought in a food critic who could very well enhance their business.

  What could she say except, “Yes, it does,” even though that meant she could come to regret her alliance with Trevor Lundquist.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The customer stream at the tea garden ended for the day, and Daisy prepped with Tessa, Iris, and Eva for the following morning. While she did, she thought about Harvey’s murder and the gold coin. She remembered something Marlene, Harvey’s daughter, had said after the funeral service. She’d revealed to Daisy that her brother spent a lot of time at Bases, the sports bar downtown.

  Since Jazzi had debate practice, Daisy didn’t have to pick her up at school until later. She was going to make a detour to Bases on the off chance that Daniel would be there. After all, he wouldn’t know that she never stopped for a drink after work.

  Dusk had fallen by the time Daisy arrived at Bases. If he wasn’t in the sports bar, Daisy would have only lost about five minutes of her time.

  The bar and restaurant served mostly burgers and fries, pickles, and peanuts.
The aroma of sizzling burgers, usually topped with bacon, wafted out the front door as she opened it.

  As its name purported, the restaurant was about bases—baseball bases. Inside, the establishment displayed photos of Fenway Park, Camden Yards, Yankee Stadium, and Wrigley Field along one wall. They’d been enlarged to poster size and framed in narrow black plastic frames. She noticed signed photos of players in their uniforms, along with shots of avid baseball fans, maybe those who were patrons of this bar. She didn’t know.

  Unlike lots of bars, this one wasn’t dark. Track lighting gleamed from the ceiling at the edges of the room, so it was easy to see customers sitting at the tables along the outskirts as well as those sitting at the long wooden bar. A mirror on the wall at the back of the bar reflected faces. She studied each one. There was lots of chatter in the room, along with the low tones of three flat-screen TVs. Restaurant patrons at any table or at the bar could get a glimpse of a screen. Football game replays were on the TVs now, and that seemed ironic considering the theme of the bar.

  Standing just inside the doorway, she glanced around, quickly looking for the face she’d studied at the funeral. It took her a minute to recognize Daniel. He wasn’t wearing a suit but rather worn jeans, a sweatshirt with a hoodie, and a baseball cap with the Orioles team logo. Not a Phillies fan, she thought. After all, she did know a little something about baseball.

  Fortunately, the stool next to Daniel was vacant. This seemed to be a slow evening at the bar because only three out of the ten stools were occupied. She guessed she’d missed happy hour, and it was still early for night owls.

  As she approached the bar area where Daniel was seated, she saw the bartender shake his head, then say to Harvey’s son, “I think you’ve had enough.”

  “I’ve only st . . . st . . . started,” Daniel stuttered, slurring his words. Apparently, he was already sloshed. If happy hour had started at five, he’d had two hours to down drinks. Maybe he’d been there even longer.

  Inhaling one huge deep breath for courage, Daisy squared her shoulders, pasted on a smile, and sat on the barstool next to him. She pretended not to notice him at first.