Murder with Lemon Tea Cakes

by Karen Rose Smith

Now Daisy was close enough to smell alcohol on the woman’s breath. She wondered just how drunk this woman was. Would she act this way normally? Was this one of the reasons Harvey had divorced her?

  “You’ve been drinking,” Daisy said matter-of-factly.

  “I was at lunch with friends. Of course, I’ve been drinking. Dirty martinis, if you must know.” She pointed her finger at Iris, who was still holding a tablecloth over her arm. “You’re nothing more than a glorified waitress. I can’t believe Harvey got involved with you. Making me jealous was the only reason he did it.”

  “Mrs. Fitz, you’ve said enough. I think you should go,” Daisy warned her.

  “And I think you should stay out of this. It’s between me and your aunt.”

  From the look on Iris’s face, Daisy knew she had to get Monica out of here, or her aunt could possibly collapse. She’d had enough of all of it, and Daisy couldn’t blame her. All she had done was fall in love.

  For that reason, she decided to go for Monica’s jugular. “Mrs. Fitz, maybe you should set a better example for your son so he can find a worthwhile life instead of attending happy hour.”

  Monica’s mouth dropped open, and she just stared at Daisy. “You know nothing about my family.”

  “I know your daughter wants to change her life, and I know that Daniel needs to change his. But he can’t do it with you as an example. He can’t do it without your support. You need to pull yourself together and figure out how you can be a role model for him. Help him stop a downward spiral. You can’t do that if you’re spiraling downward yourself.”

  Monica’s face turned red, and for a moment, Daisy thought the woman might slap her. Preparing herself, she took a few steps back.

  In that instant, Daisy saw Monica’s expression change, and she wondered if the woman was having a sudden insight into what Daniel’s problems were, as well as her own.

  However, after that possibly insightful second, she pointed to Iris again, muttered, “I’ll see you in court,” and then spun around on her red high heels and left Daisy’s Tea Garden.

  Iris looked shell-shocked and lowered herself into one of the chairs.

  Daisy asked, “Can I get you something—water, tea, something stronger?”

  Her aunt gave her a wan smile. “You mean like hot chocolate?”

  Daisy glanced into the other room and saw that Cora Sue and Foster were serving customers and had everything under control. She sat down next to her aunt. “She looked like the Wicked Witch of the West and acted like her. Goodness knows what Harvey had to put up with. And the drinking? Maybe that day she came into the twenty-fifth celebration she was drunk too, and that’s what caused her behavior.”

  Iris put a shaky hand to her forehead and rubbed it, lowered her voice, and practically whispered, “Do you think she killed Harvey? She certainly seems capable of it.”

  It was quite possible that Monica, even if she’d been wearing a hat and high heels, could have scooped up the unicorn statue and walloped Harvey with it. Anyone who had just witnessed her in full witch mode would realize it.

  “I think she’s capable,” Daisy agreed. “I’m wondering if we should tell Marshall about what just happened, or maybe even Detective Rappaport.”

  “The detective will just think we’re trying to throw the blame on someone else,” Iris said resignedly. “But maybe we should tell Marshall so he can document it. I’ll call him. If he’s busy, I’ll leave a message.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to do it for you?”

  “No, I’ll do it,” Iris said. “Tessa should be starting batches of cookies so we can refrigerate the dough for the morning. Maybe you can help her.”

  Her aunt was right. She should help Tessa ready their baked goods for tomorrow.

  She was on her way to the kitchen when she recognized the next customer who pushed open the door. It was Jonas. She realized how glad she was to see him and told herself she shouldn’t be.

  As he approached the counter, she realized he looked even more somber than usual. He might be here for more than a scone and a cup of tea.

  When he reached the counter, he said, “I saw Monica Fitz fly by my window. She wasn’t in here by any chance, was she?”

  “Yes, she was. She had some things to say to Aunt Iris.”

  “Your aunt doesn’t have to put up with her, you know. She can always get an order of protection.”

  “We’ll keep that in mind,” Daisy said. “What can I get you?”

  “How about a chocolate scone to go. I came in because I have news about Jazzi’s birth mother. How do you want to handle it?”

  * * *

  Two hours later, they were handling it the only way Daisy knew how. Honestly. She’d asked Jonas if he would come to the house so the two of them could talk to Jazzi there after Daisy had picked her up at choir practice. He agreed. So now here they were, and Daisy was probably as nervous as her daughter.

  Sitting across the table from them, Jonas sent a gentle smile to Jazzi. “I had a break. I located the lawyer’s secretary. She had moved several times, and that’s why it’s taken this long to find her. Since your birth mother’s name, Portia, was unusual, she remembered the case. At first, she was reluctant to give me your birth mother’s last name, but we had another break there. His secretary was adopted herself. So she absolutely understands your need to know. I told her you were registered on the adoption site, and she went to it to look. When she saw it, she knew I was legitimate and you were too. When she gave me your birth mother’s last name, I wasn’t so sure we had found another lead, because it was Smith! But Joan remembered that she was nineteen, though she didn’t know any more about the case. She also doesn’t know where Glenn Reeves’s records are located. He’s the lawyer who handled the adoption,” Jonas reminded Jazzi. Then he continued, “Still, going on what she gave me, I think I’ve found your birth mother.”

  Jazzi’s eyes widened, and she suddenly looked scared. Daisy put her hand on her daughter’s shoulder.

  Taking an index card from his pocket, Jonas pushed it across the table to Jazzi. “Her name is Portia Smith Harding now and she’s living in Allentown. She married six years ago, and she has two children. That’s her phone number and her address. What you want to do next is up to you.” He looked toward Daisy.

  But Daisy just shook her head. She couldn’t make this decision for her daughter. She couldn’t interfere. Jazzi could resent her for a lifetime if she did.

  Daisy said gently, “It is up to you, honey. It’s all up to you. You can put that number away in your jewelry box until you’re ready to think about it again, or we can contact her. You can contact her.”

  Shifting on his chair, Jonas said, “There is another option. I can act as a go-between if you’d like me to contact her.”

  Studying Jonas’s expression, Daisy was sure he hadn’t made that suggestion lightly. She had the feeling that he didn’t like to get involved, that he’d been too involved with sensitive matters as a cop or as a detective, and now he just wanted to live a quiet life without complications. But Daisy had brought him a complication, and now, it seemed, he was ready to help deal with it.

  Jazzi looked confused and younger than her fifteen years. Pushing her chair back, she stood and just stared at the index card as if it were too hot to handle. But then she picked it up. “I have to think about this. Is it okay if I go to my room, Mom?”

  “Of course, it is. I’ll bring you something to eat in a little while. Warmed up mac and cheese okay with a sandwich?”

  Jazzi nodded but had a distant look in her eyes as if she didn’t really care what she ate or what Daisy brought her.

  As Jazzi left the table, Jonas stood too. “I’d better go.”

  Daisy walked with him through the living room to the front door. There she looked up at him, noticed again the lines around his eyes, the few around his lips, the way his hair dipped over his brow. “Thank you for doing this.”

  “You might not thank me if she makes that cal
l.”

  “I know. I’m as scared as she is, maybe even more. If she makes that call, our relationship could change forever. I could lose her.”

  Jonas shook his head vehemently. “No, that’s not going to happen, and don’t even think about it happening. She’ll never forget what you’ve given her for fifteen years. Your love, your support, and your caring have been priceless. Do you think she’d trade that in for a hug from her birth mother?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  He shook his head again. “Trust her, Daisy. No matter how this goes, you have to trust your daughter.”

  That was true, and she knew it. Finally, she confided, “Ever since Ryan died, I don’t trust as well. I worry more. I look for the other shoe to drop.”

  “Loss will do that,” Jonas empathized, as if he knew. He reached out and squeezed her shoulder. “Somehow life works out, even if we don’t think it will.”

  If it had come from anybody else, Daisy would have heard that line as a platitude. Coming from Jonas, it meant a great deal. His hand on her shoulder created a warmth inside of her that she hadn’t felt in a very long time.

  As if he felt some kind of heat too, he dropped his hand, turned, and opened the door. But over his shoulder he said, “Give her space, Daisy. She’ll figure it out, and so will you.”

  Then he was gone.

  As Daisy set the house alarm, she heard his SUV leave. There was something about Jonas Groft that made her want to spend more time with him. But she felt he was fighting the idea of spending time with her. Would she ever learn why?

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Daisy expected Jazzi at the tea garden the next afternoon. If they weren’t busy, her daughter was going to seriously work on their cookbook. However, when Jazzi came in, she took Daisy aside.

  “I know I’m supposed to work on the cookbook, Mom, but can we talk to Jonas?”

  It was easy to see that whatever Jazzi wanted to tell Jonas was weighing heavily on her mind. Customers were arriving steadily, but Cora Sue and Iris were handling them easily. She said, “Let me call Jonas and see if he’s busy.” She did, and Jonas said no one was in the store right then. He could talk, if that’s what Jazzi wanted.

  Daisy didn’t know if Jazzi had ever been in Jonas’s store, but her daughter definitely wasn’t interested in furniture. They spotted Jonas sitting on a stool behind the counter. With a slight hesitation and a sideways glance at Daisy, Jazzi approached him.

  Jonas took one look at Jazzi and said, “You’ve made a decision.”

  Jazzi rested her hands on the counter and nodded. “Since my adoption was a closed one, that means my birth mother might not want anything to do with me. She might not be searching adoption sites like I am. I’ve registered on three. She might think I want something from her, like money, and I don’t.” Jazzi bit her lower lip, then went on. “I think it would be best if you make contact for me.”

  Jonas studied the teenager and then Daisy. “So that’s what you want me to do?”

  Daisy nodded too. “I think it’s a wise decision.”

  “I found out more about Portia Smith,” he said. “And I do think a visit might be better than a phone call.”

  “You’d drive to Allentown?” Daisy asked.

  “For something as important as this I would. Portia’s a graphic artist, and she works from home while she takes care of her children. My midweek is usually slow, so my clerks can handle the store. I’ll drive to Allentown tomorrow.”

  “I have debate practice tomorrow,” Jazzi told him. “That means Mom doesn’t pick me up until around seven.”

  “No problem,” Jonas said. “Your mom has my number. She can text me after you come home.”

  Relief stole over Jazzi’s face now that a plan had been established. She said, “I’m going back to the tea garden and work on that cookbook. It will keep my mind off this.” Then she looked at Jonas. “Thank you.”

  When Jazzi spun around, she seemed eager to leave Woods, eager to distract herself from what could happen the next day.

  Daisy watched her daughter exit the shop, and her heart ached for her. She could only imagine how Jazzi was feeling, wondering if she would be rejected or accepted . . . wondering if her mother was a good person . . . or a not so good person . . . wondering if her life was about to change.

  Jonas must have been watching her because he said, “I know you’re worried, Daisy, but one way or another she’ll have answers. You both will.”

  When Daisy turned around to face him, she could have gotten lost in his very green eyes. Her own eyes were a little misty, and she took a deep breath. “I don’t know how to thank you for what you’re doing. Not just anybody would do this for a stranger.”

  “You’re not so strange,” he responded with a crooked smile.

  She gave a little laugh. “In the past few weeks, I’ve felt mighty strange, but now I guess we’re not strangers anymore. Seriously, though, would you accept payment for your time?”

  He shook his head. “No. Actually, I’ve forgotten how good it feels to help someone in this way. And as far as paying me back, sometime let’s just make a time for tea for two.”

  Her heart sang at that suggestion, and she wasn’t exactly sure why.

  * * *

  Although the following day was a busy one, Daisy was on edge all day. She knew where Jonas had gone and what he was doing. What had happened with Portia Smith Harding? Was he talking to her now or would he call on his drive home? Had Jazzi’s birth mother been receptive, or had she shut the door in his face?

  Daisy was sure those same questions had been running through Jazzi’s mind all day. She was at debate practice now, and that should keep her well distracted for a little while.

  The wind had picked up outside and blew leaves against the front of the Victorian as Daisy and Iris went through their closing checklist. Their staff had left. Daisy emptied the baked goods case and cleaned it while Iris inventoried the freezer and the walk-in refrigerator, making sure they were ready for morning. In a few more minutes, Daisy would switch the OPEN sign on the door to CLOSED.

  After another look outside as dusk fell, Daisy said, “I think it’s gotten chillier out there. How about a last cup of tea before we leave? I’m just going to work in my office until I have to pick up Jazzi.”

  “I have to sweep the front table area yet.”

  “Green tea?” Daisy asked.

  “That sounds good.”

  A few minutes later, Daisy brought one of her favorite vintage teapots, painted with yellow roses and butterflies, to a table in the main serving room. She was about to snag two cups and saucers when she saw the shadow of someone at the front door. It was a man in a duster coat . . .

  Bennett Topper opened the door and stepped inside the tea garden. He gave Daisy a smile. “Are you still open?”

  As he paused at the door, Daisy glanced at the empty baked goods case in the front. She could always bring out the cookies she’d put in a bag to take home.

  “We were just about to close, but we have time for you. Come on in. How are you doing?”

  Iris stopped sweeping as Bennett came farther into the room. She still had her broom in hand and propped it beside her.

  Bennett looked a bit unsure of himself as he said, “I’m still trying to absorb the fact that Harvey is gone.”

  “What can I get you?” Daisy asked, wondering if Bennett had anyone to share his grief with. “Aunt Iris and I were just going to have a cup of green tea, and I have cookies in the back too.”

  But Bennett shook his head and admitted, “I’m just looking for some sympathy. Most people don’t realize how close Harvey and I were. He was a father figure to me.”

  Iris said with a tinge of bitterness, “I imagine the family’s getting all kinds of condolences, even his wife. But you and I . . . People don’t consider how much we miss him.”

  Bennett responded, “Exactly.” He glanced toward the side door and the serving area outside where Harvey was murdere
d. His eyes were troubled. “I just can’t believe that someone would pick up a statue and kill Harvey in the garden.”

  It took Daisy a moment to realize what Bennett had just said. She tried not to react and prevented her expression from changing. She’d just realized who had committed the murder. Harvey Fitz’s murderer was standing right before her!

  No one had known Harvey was killed with the statue. The police had kept that quiet. Could she be wrong? Maybe Bennett had found out about the unicorn statue from Detective Rappaport somehow. Still, if she wasn’t wrong—

  She slipped her hand into the pocket of her apron for her phone.

  Although she believed she’d managed a poker face, there must have been a change in her demeanor. Something had alerted Bennett that she was aware of him in a new way. In the next second, he pulled a gun out of his duster pocket and pointed it at Iris.

  Iris gasped, and her hand went to her throat.

  Shaking inside, Daisy tried to keep perfectly calm and still. Her hand was on her phone. If she could just manage to dial 9-1-1. But she wasn’t familiar enough with the changing screen and the keyboard on this phone, especially when she wasn’t looking at it.

  She had to keep her wits about her—her life and Iris’s depended on it. Most important, she couldn’t make Bennett nervous or freak him out. He didn’t look like a man who was used to handling a gun. Was his hand shaking?

  “Actually, there is something you can get me,” Bennett said tersely. “Not tea, of course.” He stared at Iris and pointed the gun directly at her heart. “You can fetch me the gold coin Harvey gave you for safekeeping.”

  So Harvey’s stash wasn’t a secret. If Bennett was telling the truth and he and Harvey had been close, even confidants, he knew about that coin. Was there any point in either of them denying it?

  Bennett shook his free finger at Daisy as if he’d read her mind. “And don’t lie to me about it.”

  After he bit out his warning, he dug his hand into his coat pocket and pulled out a roll of duct tape. He addressed Iris again. “If the coin’s not here, I’ll just have to duct tape Daisy in her office and we’ll go get it.”