“I didn’t guess either,” Larissa murmured.
“You can’t blame yourself for not knowing the signs.” Tessa’s gaze was sympathetic to Reese’s ex-wife.
Suddenly there was a commotion out in the tea garden. Daisy heard raised voices. Peering through the glass window, she saw Iris beckon to her. Now what?
By the time she’d reached the main tea room, her customers were gathered at the front windows and Jonas burst in the door without his coat. He was rubbing the arms of his chambray shirt and stood peering out the door.
“What’s going on?” Daisy asked.
Jonas pointed down the street. “I saw the patrol car roll by. He actually had his lights flashing.”
“No siren, though,” Cora Sue noted.
“Do you think he had to kick somebody out of Dutch’s Deli who got boisterous?” Iris asked.
“No,” Jonas answered her. “I think something else is going on.”
Jonas and Daisy stepped out onto the Victorian’s porch to get a better look.
“What do you think is really happening?” she asked him.
“If we give it a few minutes, we’ll soon know.”
It didn’t take a few minutes. Two officers escorted Dutch from the deli and over to the patrol car.
“He’s not handcuffed,” Jonas noticed.
“But what does this mean? Do you think he’s a suspect in Reese’s murder?”
“My guess is Rappaport ordered the patrol officers to pick him up. He has something he wants to question him about. Any idea what that is?” Jonas asked.
“None at all.”
“You mean Rappaport is a step ahead of you?”
Daisy lightly punched Jonas in the arm. He kept his gaze on the patrol car driving away.
“I’m going back inside,” Daisy said. “It’s too cold to be a busybody.”
“You’re not a busybody. You’re an interested party and so am I. I’m going to go down to the station and find out what’s happening. I’ll tell Rappaport about Reese’s addiction if I can get a minute with him.”
“Do you think Rappaport will tell you anything?”
“If not, I can learn something just from standing around. But Rappaport might let me in on what’s happening as a professional courtesy. Especially if I give him info about Reese that he doesn’t have.”
Daisy considered Jonas’s history that had changed his path in life. “Does Rappaport know what happened to you back in Philadelphia?”
“He does. There’s a cop network just like there’s a tea garden network or a financial advisor network. Especially the bad stuff gets around.”
“And do you know what happened to Rappaport? Why he came to Willow Creek?”
“No, I don’t know. There was something about a hush-up investigation and then he left. But no one seems to know the details. I really have no right to poke into his career.” Jonas gave Daisy’s arm a squeeze. “I’ll call you as soon as I know something and I’ll see you at Quilts and Notions later.”
Daisy smiled at him. They were going to work with Rachel and Levi to ready the store for Quilt Lovers Weekend, which began on Friday. “Thank you.”
After a wave good-bye, he jogged down the street to his shop. She turned around to head inside. She knew she’d be facing questions from her staff and her customers. But she didn’t have any answers.
Not yet.
Daisy had said good-bye to Eric and Larissa and was helping Aunt Iris and Tessa close up the tea garden when her cell phone played. She immediately took it from her pocket. It was Jonas.
“What did you learn?” She went into her office and closed the door.
“You’re not going to believe this.”
“What? Did they arrest Dutch for Reese’s murder?”
“No. But it’s possible he did it. Apparently, Reese’s bank records showed a payout each month to Dutch.”
“Does Rappaport think Dutch was blackmailing Reese?”
“Rappaport doesn’t have concrete evidence yet. Dutch is telling him that Reese was paying for personalized deli service when he was too busy to leave the gallery or his apartment. They can’t prove otherwise.”
“I have a feeling that was a very expensive deli service.”
“I’m sure you’re right.”
“Do you think Dutch found out about Reese’s background and told him he’d spill the beans if Reese didn’t pay him?”
“I’m sure that’s what Rappaport is thinking.”
“And Dutch killed him because Reese decided not to pay him any longer?”
“That’s the scenario Rappaport is trying to put together. Dutch is still here. I have a feeling he’ll be here for hours. Rappaport has a reputation for grilling long and hard.”
Daisy and her aunt knew about some of that reputation firsthand.
“This could be all over,” Daisy said.
“It could be. Now you can just concentrate on Quilt Lovers Weekend.”
That she could . . . unless Dutch Pickel wasn’t the murderer.
* * *
On a ladder at Quilts and Notions that evening, Daisy adjusted the quilt she’d hung near the ceiling. Quilts of all colors and patterns hung around the perimeter of the shop on the walls. Some had been made in Rachel’s quilting circle. Others were for sale by Amish and English women alike. Daisy admired the center diamond quilt in dark purple, dark blue, and dark green. It had probably been crafted by an Amish woman who tended to use darker colors. The same could be said of the Sunshine and Shadow quilt. The Tumbling Blocks quilt, however, was possibly made by an Englisher in its pale blue, lilac, and flowered print. Daisy guessed it was fashioned by a resident of Willow Creek who just liked to quilt.
Jazzi said, “Come on down now, Mom, so I can stop holding the ladder. You shouldn’t be extending your arm for long.”
When Daisy glanced down at her daughter, she spotted Jonas, who was watching her too. “My shoulder is much better. I’m steady on my feet and I’m not having any more headaches.”
From his stance at one of the trestle tables he’d built for displaying quilts at the store, he reminded her, “Even people who haven’t had concussions can fall from a ladder.”
Daisy saw worry in both sets of eyes. Along with Tessa, Rachel, her husband, and her two oldest daughters, they were all at Quilts and Notions to ready the store for Friday.
Moving about, doing whatever she deemed necessary, Rachel stopped at the table Jonas had built. “That’s a fine table. They all are.”
Tessa brought a quilt to the table and folded it so that the pattern showed best. “I’m just grateful that the owners of the antique quilts are letting us display them here. We’ll have to make sure they know that the quilts on the tables aren’t for sale, that they’re just for display. The Album quilts should probably go in the back in the safest corner. I’ll print out a sign to put with them.”
Daisy touched the fine stitching on the Baltimore Album quilt that was displayed beside Levi’s grandmother’s quilt. It was fashioned in a block design that was absolutely beautiful. As with the Fishers’ quilt, it had a provenance back to the early nineteen hundreds.
She pointed to the daisies and to two horses who looked as if they were meeting for the first time under a tree, then to a wedding cake with a girl on one side of it and an Amish man on the other side. One of the later blocks depicted an older man and a woman and their reflection in an oval mirror. There were corner borders on two sides with colorful flowers.
“Can you imagine the time that went into embroidering and stitching this quilt?” Daisy asked. “The colors are beautiful and go together so well. A quilt like this could take a lifetime to make, and only the family knows what each of those blocks mean.”
“Memoir keepsakes are important to you, aren’t they?” Jonas asked.
“Yes, they are. I’m thinking about making a quilt if Rachel’s quilting circle can teach me. I’d like to use bits of fabric from Violet’s and Jazzi’s childhood dresses and even maybe—�
�� She stopped.
“Even maybe something of Ryan’s?” Jonas asked. He didn’t look bothered by that.
“Yes, and something of my mom and dad’s and Aunt Iris’s, too.”
“And you’ll stitch the flowers that each of you are named for around the border,” he suggested.
“I doubt if I’ll be able to learn the skill for that.”
“You will,” Rachel encouraged her. “It just takes practice. You’ll learn to take your quilting basket wherever you go so you can work on it.”
Daisy knew that one of the tenets of Amish living was that hands should never be idle.
Rachel’s oldest daughter, Hannah, who was twenty now, said, “It’s so sad the gallery is closed. Mr. Masemer appreciated the history of these quilts.”
“That’s true,” Tessa agreed. “He felt fortunate to display them.”
Hannah said, “I heard Mr. Pickel was at the police station for hours.”
Rachel frowned at her daughter. Daisy knew even though the family was New Order Amish that they didn’t approve of gossip. But this wasn’t gossip exactly. It was fact.
“I heard that too,” Daisy said. “If you’d like to know why, I can tell you. Jonas filled me in.”
Rachel gave a little nod. After all, something that happened to Dutch could affect the rest of their businesses and the Quilt Lovers Weekend. So Daisy explained about the bank statements.
“How awful,” Rachel responded. “Do you believe he really was providing a deli service?”
His brow furrowed, Jonas shook his head. “I doubt it very much. But the police won’t arrest Dutch unless they have concrete evidence. Blackmail isn’t the same as murder.”
Rachel’s younger daughter Sarah brought in bolts of material from the storeroom. With expertise she’d learned from being around her mom in her shop, she fitted the bolts of fabric into the shelves where the colors fit best.
“I know it’s selfish,” Daisy said, “but I hope they don’t question Dutch again after the Quilt Lovers Weekend.”
“Because of the bad publicity?” Tessa asked, straightening a corner of the quilt.
“Yes, and because I just don’t see him as the murderer.”
“Do you think his business is in trouble?” Rachel asked. “Otherwise, why would he blackmail Reese?”
Daisy exchanged a look with Jonas. They both knew the Amish way. The Amish didn’t place much stock in possessions or how much was in a bank account. They lived in the world but not of the world. How could they ever understand a man like Dutch who might want to retire on an island in the Caribbean?
Jonas said, “Not everyone is like you and your family, Rachel. If Dutch was blackmailing Reese Masemer, we don’t know why he did it. Some men want money for money’s sake, or they’re afraid of what they might need in the future.”
“God will provide,” Rachel assured them.
Daisy knew Rachel believed that with all of her heart. God did provide because she and her family worked hard to make that happen. In Daisy’s mind, it was a joint effort.
Changing the subject, Jonas nodded out the window to the few snowflakes that could be seen hitting the window panes because of the store’s front stoop light. “Hopefully, we’ll just get a dusting of snow tonight.”
Hannah peered out at the snowflakes. “We’re making everything ready. It would be awful if the tourists didn’t come.”
“Don’t worry,” Jonas said. “According to the forecast, the weather’s clear for the weekend.” Without preamble, he turned to Daisy. “Do you ski?”
She blinked, trying to adjust to his new thought path. “I went skiing a few times when I was in college, but it’s been years.”
“Maybe after the Quilt Lovers Weekend is over and done, we can take a day off to go skiing at Roundtop. It doesn’t matter how well you can ski. We can just have fun.”
Daisy realized going skiing with Jonas sounded like heaven. She could forget all about murder, suspects, and Quilt Lovers Weekend. They could just be together and enjoy each other . . . get to know each other even better.
Just how much more of his life would Jonas share with her? Maybe during a day of skiing, she could find out.
Chapter Eighteen
With Tessa stressed out about the investigation into Reese’s murder and Daisy fidgety about the Quilt Lovers Weekend, Daisy asked Tessa to meet her at the Covered Bridge Bed-and-Breakfast for breakfast on Thursday. The B&B opened at six AM.
As Daisy was getting dressed that morning, Tessa texted her that she’d be sketching at the covered bridge as long as she could stand the cold. She wanted to finish the Morning Has Broken series in memory of Reese. She’d meet Daisy at the B&B around seven-thirty.
When Daisy walked into the Covered Bridge Bed-and-Breakfast, she easily noted that they were ready for Quilt Lovers Weekend. Beautifully stitched quilts hung over the open banister that led upstairs. A raffle had already begun for two lucky people to win them. The first was a Log Cabin design in navy, burgundy, and cream. The other was a Double Wedding Ring quilt in gold, red, and purple. They were both stunning.
After Daisy turned right into the restaurant, Amelia Wiseman met her at the hostess’s podium. Daisy smiled at her. “Are you overseeing everything yourself?”
“Are you as nervous as I am that this weekend will be a success?” Amelia asked her.
“I don’t know if I’m nervous or excited,” Daisy responded. “The bed-and-breakfast looks wonderful, not only the quilts but all the extra touches. You’ve changed the curtains.” She’d noticed right away that the curtains at the double-paned windows were now green gingham with an off-white background. Their colors coordinated beautifully with the quilts and wall hangings. When Daisy glanced into the dining room, she noticed a quilted placemat at the center of every table under a vase of dried flowers including lavender and thyme.
“We’re booked for the weekend, and even a few days beyond. New reservations came in last night. I guess when people realized the weather was going to be good this weekend, they wanted to get away. Cold but sunny is good for business.”
“I’m concerned that the tea will go smoothly Saturday afternoon. We’ve never served afternoon tea in both rooms at the same time. Jazzi will even be helping to serve. I’ve called in Emma Zook’s two daughters who sometimes help me in the summer during our busiest time. Tessa and I will be heading to the tea garden right after breakfast and prepping the rest of the day. But I thought we needed this break for breakfast before the madness starts.”
“You have capable people working for you, Daisy, and so do I. We just have to trust them.”
That was certainly true.
Amelia motioned to the dining room. “Sit wherever you’d like. I’ll send a server out with coffee. She’ll watch for Tessa and know when you want to order.”
Daisy sat at the table covered with a cream linen, ready to order French toast. She was going to splurge this morning. A server, with the name tag of SUSAN, poured her a cup of coffee. However, twenty minutes later, Daisy had drained the cup of coffee and Tessa still hadn’t showed. Had her friend lost track of time while sketching?
Daisy decided not to wait any longer but to go see for herself. Tessa had told her she’d be near the covered bridge. On the way out, she told Amelia, “Tessa’s sketching at the bridge. When she does that, time passes her by. I’m going to go remind her we do have tons of work after breakfast.”
“Do you want me to hold on to your purse?” Amelia asked.
Taking her phone from her cross-over bag, Daisy inserted it into her jacket pocket. “Thank you. I’m sure I’ll be back in five minutes.”
When Daisy exited the bed-and-breakfast, she turned left toward the back of the property and the path that led to the covered bridge. It was stamped concrete and resembled bricks. Everything about this bed-and-breakfast was tasteful and particular. Amelia and her husband had done a wonderful job with it. Its five-star rating brought tourists to the area.
The snow on the pat
h had melted with the last two days of spotty sunshine though the lawn was still covered with at least four inches of snow. Maple and sweet gum trees, their branches bare now, dotted the lawn and grew heavier on both sides of the path as Daisy approached the covered bridge.
She spotted Tessa’s multicolored wool poncho with the faux fur trim at the corner of the covered bridge. Before Daisy could shout to her, Tessa moved off the gravel road leading into the covered bridge and tramped around behind it. Daisy knew her friend often did several sketches for a painting, then she decided which angle she liked best.
Instead of trying to call to her, Daisy just hurried her pace. She’d rounded the corner of the covered bridge and was waving at Tessa when she realized her friend was totally engrossed with what she was doing. She was wearing an orange knit cap and her head was bowed over her sketchbook. Daisy called to her as she approached so as not to startle her.
Tessa looked up with an expression that said she’d been very far away, maybe sorting through memories of her and Reese. Daisy was about a foot from her friend when a shot rang out. Reflexively, Daisy tackled Tessa, taking them down to the ground to protect them from the line of fire. Another shot pierced the cold morning just as they went down, and Daisy felt a burning in her arm.
* * *
“You’re too lucky for your own good.” Detective Rappaport sat on the vinyl chair next to Daisy’s gurney at the emergency room and he was squinting at her.
This time she was sitting up on the gurney for interrogation, totally aware of everything that was happening around her. On her arrival by ambulance, she’d learned Amelia had heard the shots, spotted Tessa and Daisy on the ground, and called 9-1-1. The paramedics had insisted on transporting her to the hospital, though she’d wanted to ride in Tessa’s car. No dice. They said they didn’t know how much blood she’d lost. So here she was . . . again.
Murder with Cinnamon Scones Page 22