Murder with Lemon Tea Cakes

by Karen Rose Smith

  Jazzi pulled a light blanket from her backpack while Vi plucked water bottles from hers. Daisy unpacked her insulated pack, which held the sandwiches, protein bars, and a chocolate and nut mix, along with carrots and celery in a Ziploc bag. They settled under a decades-old oak with the breeze rustling the leaves around their blanket.

  After they ate, Violet leaned against the tree. “Do you really think Aunt Iris is in danger?”

  “I don’t know, honey. If she says someone was following her, I believe her,” Daisy said.

  “Maybe they don’t mean her any harm,” Jazzi suggested. “Maybe they just want to follow her and see where she goes, to see if they can find that coin.”

  That was possible. On the other hand, Daisy thought about Harvey Fitz’s dead body and the unicorn statue that was missing.

  The girls must have been thinking about the murder too because Violet shook her head. “Somebody must have had a really strong motive to kill Mr. Fitz. I can’t believe it’s all about a coin.”

  “Maybe it’s not just about the coin,” Daisy agreed. “Maybe that’s only part of it.”

  “You know, we forgot to tell you that, besides Marshall, somebody else came in to the tea garden yesterday asking for you.”

  “Who?”

  “A woman in her late twenties or early thirties. She said her name was Caroline. She had tea, but she wanted to see you and talk to you about a part-time job.”

  “She was let go from Men’s Trends. Maybe her job interview with Gents wasn’t successful.”

  “I can’t see how men’s clothing stores thrive,” Violet said. “Just look at the discount department stores that have cropped up. And in this area, there are so many clothing outlets. Maybe Mr. Fitz had the right combination to make a success of his store, but that doesn’t mean just anyone would. Taking on the store could be a financial risk that’s too great.”

  “You might be right,” Daisy agreed. “Did Caroline give you a number?”

  Violet nodded. “She did.”

  Violet fished a slip of paper out of her pocket and handed it to Daisy. “I stuck it in my pocket, hoping I’d remember to give it to you. If you want to call her, go ahead. Jazzi and I want to explore that covered bridge, check out the initials inside, and see if there are more than the last time we looked.”

  Sweethearts who came this way carved their initials inside the covered bridge. It was a local ritual.

  “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

  Violet answered for both of them, as she often did. “We don’t mind.” She and Jazzi rose to their feet and ambled off toward the bridge.

  Daisy took her phone from her backpack and keyed in Caroline’s number. She fully expected to leave a voice mail, but the young woman answered on the second ring.

  “Caroline, it’s Daisy Swanson. My daughter Violet said you stopped in at the tea garden yesterday.”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “What can I do for you?”

  “I wondered if you’re hiring. That other interview I went on didn’t pan out.”

  “I have hired someone new, and he’s working out. But my level of business has expanded in the past two weeks. If it continues, I’ll definitely need more part-time help. Why don’t you come in and fill out an application? I know you have sales experience. I’m sure we can teach you about tea, if you’d like to learn.”

  “That sounds good. I have another interview tomorrow morning at a women’s clothing outlet. I might be able to get a benefits package there, and if I supplement it with working for you part-time, I can make my rent. You know, I’m not so sure this wouldn’t have happened even if Harvey hadn’t died.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “I don’t know. Just a feeling that something had changed. The week before he was murdered, Harvey was out of the store a lot, which was unusual. He usually kept his eye on everything.”

  “Maybe he had meetings with his lawyer about his divorce and his will. I heard he changed it.”

  “I suppose that’s possible. But only if his lawyer was in Philadelphia. That’s where he drove to. When he returned from the meetings, he was always gruff and distracted. That wasn’t like him either.”

  “You think maybe he was discussing selling the store?”

  “Could be. Or it could be something entirely different. I certainly wasn’t privy to what he was thinking. I’m not sure anyone was, unless maybe your aunt. He always seemed to be in a good mood when he was with her. And afterward. The employees kidded each other that the morning after a date with her, we should ask him for a raise. But I don’t know if anybody actually did. You don’t kid around with a man like Harvey.”

  After a bit more conversation, Daisy ended the call, assuring Caroline she’d talk to her when she stopped in. Violet and Jazzi were coming back from the tour of the inside of the covered bridge. They were smiling and talking like two sisters should.

  Daisy thought about Caroline’s words. You don’t kid around with a man like Harvey. Maybe that was true. Maybe people knew that. Maybe someone had crossed Harvey and he’d found a way to get back at them. Or possibly his ruthlessness in business had been a two-edged sword. Possibly his desire to teach his children a lesson had backfired. What if Monica’s resentment of him had turned nasty?

  As soon as Daisy was alone with her aunt again, she’d ask Iris if she’d known why Harvey had been out of town the week before he was murdered. If she knew, that might give them a clue as to who had done the deed.

  Chapter Twenty

  On Monday morning, Daisy was surprised again at the number of customers who were present as soon as the doors to the tea garden opened. Helping to serve, she overheard several conversations. Many of the new tea garden customers were moms who carpooled and stopped in at Daisy’s after they took their kids to school. She heard talk about soccer teams and parent-teacher conferences, trick or treat, and fast meals moms could serve on the run.

  A busload of tourists pulled up at nine AM, filling both the green and yellow tea rooms. Vacationers were taking a bus trip through the area, viewing the leaves and the countryside in general. They’d started out in Chambersburg and were headed for King of Prussia Mall. Daisy had introduced a new orange pecan breakfast scone, and it was a hit. She was seriously considering hiring Caroline. They were getting a little backed up on the tea orders, and she didn’t want that to happen.

  She and Iris brushed elbows at one point at neighboring tables. Iris gave her a wink that said she understood business was good. Daisy thought about their conversation last evening after dinner with her parents. She’d inquired about those meetings that Harvey had had in Philadelphia. Iris had shrugged and said she’d known Harvey traveled to Philadelphia. But when he’d returned to Willow Creek, he’d merely told her the meetings were about business. She didn’t know why she had assumed that they had something to do with his investments.

  Now Daisy wondered if a Philadelphia investment firm took care of Harvey Fitz’s accounts. If so, did that have anything to do with his murder?

  Although Daisy felt sorry for her aunt, she was glad Iris had had her experiences with Harvey. Her feelings toward him had given her a new lease on life and the ability to dream again. The loss of Harvey would take a while to get over, but Daisy was hoping her aunt would see that she had the ability to fall in love again, no matter how old she was.

  By ten o’clock, another tour bus had arrived. Along with those customers, Daisy’s dad stopped in and waved her down. “Hi, honey. Got a scone for me?”

  “Do you want to skip the line?” she teased.

  “Actually, what I want is to unload fall planters for you that Mom sent over. She said you could use them in your garden, at least for a couple of weeks. We’re bringing in holiday arrangements, and we have to make room. Do you want me to just set them out back?”

  “That would be great. I’ll arrange them when I have a chance.”

  “The marigolds might last longer than the mums. The snapdragons should last lon
gest of all. They’ll be good until we get a hard freeze.”

  Seeing that all the tables had been served and no customers were calling either her or Iris over to pour refills or to fetch another scone, she said to her dad, “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

  “Sure. In your office?”

  Before Daisy dashed into her office, she made a sojourn to the front cases, grabbed scones, and took them with her.

  “Tea?” she asked him.

  “You’re busy. I’m fine without it. What did you need to know?”

  Her dad studied her intently. Her mother said his bright blue eyes could convince her to do anything. But as far as Daisy knew, her dad only used that power for good. In jeans and a flannel shirt and wearing a ball cap that was Philadelphia Phillies all the way, he looked like many of the customers that came into her shop. But he was her dad, and she trusted anything he would tell her.

  She knew he and her mom had investments. They’d had a college fund for Daisy and her sister, and now a retirement fund. She didn’t know much beyond that.

  “Do you have a financial adviser?” she asked him.

  “We do. Our accountant recommended ours. Are you looking?”

  She shook her head. “Not right now. I have the girls’ college funds invested in no-load funds. I never felt the need for a financial adviser. After Ryan died, I just kept everything the way he’d set it up.”

  “So why are you asking now?” her dad inquired.

  “Is your financial adviser around here?”

  “He is. He’s in Lancaster.”

  “So let me ask you something. If you had double or triple the money you and Mom have, would you still go to a financial adviser around here, or would you go to Philadelphia to find one?”

  “I don’t know if that depends on vicinity as much as contacts,” her dad answered.

  “I don’t know what you mean,” Daisy admitted.

  “Word of mouth is important in that business,” her father explained. “Friends recommend their financial advisers to other friends. A group of people who might work in the same business might go to the same financial adviser if they think he or she is doing a good job. It all depends on what a person is looking for, if he or she wants service, hand-holding, and many phone calls, in addition to investment strategies. The only way you know about those things before you settle on a financial adviser is to ask around and get valid recommendations.”

  “So if I wanted someone with a good track record, who kept me informed, and gave me good tips, I might go as far as Philadelphia if that person were recommended to me.”

  “Exactly.”

  “So it wouldn’t seem unusual for a man like Harvey Fitz to go to Philadelphia to meet with people like that?”

  “Philadelphia’s really not that far. I don’t think that would be unusual at all.”

  “The police would know who his financial adviser was, right?” Daisy asked.

  “Most probably. They’d also have info about his accountant and his lawyer. They probably know his doctors too. Questioning all those people is tedious and takes time. I understand you don’t like Detective Rappaport because he’s been brusque with Iris, but that doesn’t mean he’s not doing his job.”

  “He won’t tell us anything,” Daisy grumbled.

  “Daisy, you know he can’t. The wrong word to the wrong person and the whole investigation could blow up in his face. They’ll figure this out. You just have to give him time.”

  “I’m worried about Aunt Iris. She’s under a lot of stress thinking she’s in danger.”

  “Between you and the girls, and your mom and me, we’ll make sure she’s safe.”

  The bell above the front door dinged, and not just because customers were leaving; actually, more were coming in. Her dad ate the last few bites of the first scone. “I’ll take the second one with me. You’d better get back to your service. Is Vi doing a good job today?”

  “I think she’s just waiting until she can see Foster again. He’ll be in after lunch. But I’d better get topnotch work out of them both.”

  “Violet knows the tea garden is important, and its reputation is too. She won’t let you down. I am worried about Jazzi, though. What happens if this friend of yours can’t find her birth mother? Where does that leave her?”

  “Still looking and still hoping. This is new territory for me, Dad. I just have to do what I think is right.”

  Suddenly, a man was standing at the door to her office. That man was Trevor Lundquist.

  “Hi, Trevor,” she said cheerily. “Did you come to try my new scones?”

  “Did you read your e-mail this morning?”

  “I haven’t had a chance. Why?”

  “Check your e-mail.”

  Since she was in her office, she decided to do it on her computer rather than on her phone. Sitting in the swivel chair at her desk, she brought up her e-mail program. In her in-box, she found an e-mail from David Ruiz. Quickly reading it, she saw he’d given the tea garden a four-star review in the travel guide.

  “He liked us!” she said with a punch into the air. “He calls us a charming place to spend a relaxing hour.”

  “What else does he say?” her dad asked.

  She frowned. “He says he would have given us five stars if we’d had more staff.”

  Trevor’s brow arched. “That’s possible, isn’t it?”

  “I’ve hired someone, and I’m thinking about hiring someone else.”

  “If you do that, and if David comes in next year about the revised travel guide, you’ll have that problem solved. Maybe you can go from four to five stars.” Trevor was standing behind her, and she looked over her shoulder at him.

  “Thank you for bringing David in.”

  Trevor negated that thought by saying, “The murder brought me in.” At the door, he winked at her. “And you’re going to tell me all about it when it’s solved. I have a memory even better than an elephant’s.” Then he was gone.

  “Are you beholden to him?” her father asked, sensing something in that interplay.

  “We made a deal. He lived up to his end, now I have to live up to my end.”

  “I hope it’s a legitimate deal.”

  “Oh, it is. I just told him I’d tell him everything I know about who the killer is as soon as I know.”

  “Daisy, the truth always comes to light. If the person who killed Harvey Fitz wanted something from him, or now wants something from Iris, believe me, we’ll soon find out who he or she is.”

  Daisy thought that was the scariest thing her father had ever told her.

  Maybe realizing that, Sean Gallagher gave her a big hug. “This will work out, Daisy Doo. The wheels are in motion. So just be careful who you talk to and what you say.” Daisy Doo was an endearing name left over from childhood that always brought a catch to Daisy’s throat.

  After a kiss on the cheek, her dad said, “I’ll tell your mom you loved the planters.”

  “I’ll come with you and look them over. Then you can tell her the truth.”

  The truth. Did Daisy want to know the truth? What if the murderer was someone she knew? She put that thought out of her head as she followed her dad outside.

  * * *

  Daisy and Iris had finished with afternoon tea service and were wiping down the tables when Tessa motioned to Daisy from the main counter.

  Daisy crossed to her and asked, “What’s up?”

  “Tornado warning,” Tessa said in an undertone so none of their customers could hear. She pointed to the front door.

  Monica Fitz sailed in, looking well put together in a red wool coat and a floppy red wool hat.

  “A little overdressed for a Monday afternoon, don’t you think?” Tessa muttered.

  Daisy had to smile. “Maybe she came from someplace important.”

  “In Willow Creek? That would only be the country club,” Tessa answered, returning to the kitchen.

  Daisy wondered if she could snag Iris and go and hide. But that was a cowa
rd’s way out. She didn’t even have time to warn her aunt what was coming before Monica was at the counter.

  “Hello, Monica,” Daisy said amiably.

  “I want to talk to your aunt,” Monica demanded. “Where is she?”

  Daisy couldn’t very well say her Aunt Iris had gone home when she was in plain sight if Monica just looked through the doorway.

  “She’s in the yellow room,” Daisy said, motioning that way.

  Monica didn’t hesitate a second but marched over there. Daisy followed, her cell phone handy in her apron pocket just in case she had to call in the police or 9-1-1. Who knew with this woman?

  Iris was still wiping down tables, and Monica glared at her disdainfully. “What did Harvey give you?”

  Aunt Iris’s eyes widened. “Pardon me?”

  “I’d like to, but your place was broken into. Somebody was looking for something. My guess is that Harvey gave you something valuable. He often did that with his paramours. Whatever he gave you should be part of his estate.”

  Daisy interfered, whether she should or shouldn’t have. “I thought Harvey changed his will and his estate goes to charity.”

  “I’m going to be contesting that. My lawyer insists I have a good opportunity to succeed.”

  Monica was in Iris’s face again. “Did he give you a diamond necklace or ruby bracelet? Or a sheaf of his ever-present coins? I know he was trying to hide assets from me so he didn’t have to split them. That’s illegal, and if you were any part of it, you were committing a crime.”

  Iris looked ready to cry, and Daisy stepped in again. “You’re making unfounded accusations. If Harvey gave my aunt anything, and that’s one very big if, it was a gift before he died and has nothing to do with you.”

  “So you’re in on it too,” Monica accused.