Murder with Cinnamon Scones

by Karen Rose Smith

“I still don’t understand what Reese had to do with it.”

  Apparently, Daisy’s playing devil’s advocate didn’t please Beck. His face reddened again. “I told you, Reese had scruples. He wanted me to report Cogley to the authorities. Talk about stupid. He kept telling me I could get immunity if I reported it.”

  Beck shook his head. “I was more afraid of Cogley than the authorities. The night I killed Reese, he’d threatened to go to the police himself about Cogley’s dealings. Cogley was trying to buy up property that had been in a Lancaster County family for generations, and Reese insisted he couldn’t let him do that. I couldn’t let Reese turn Cogley in because then I’d be ruined too. Even if I wasn’t prosecuted, my life as I knew it would be over. Tanya wouldn’t stick by me. She only likes successful men. Starting over would have been too hard for her.”

  “Maybe you underestimated her. Maybe you’re wrong. Maybe she would still stick by you if you go to the police and tell them Reese’s death was an accident.” She was reaching for straws but she had to do something. “Maybe you could tell them it was self-defense.”

  “What excuse would I have for rolling up the body in a rug, putting it in Reese’s SUV, and then driving out to the covered bridge? That doesn’t look like self-defense.”

  “You panicked. You were just trying to cover it up. If you murder me, too, you’ll definitely go to prison for life.”

  “Yes, but if nobody knows you’re murdered, I won’t have to worry anymore. If only you hadn’t gone into my den and noticed that barn.”

  “Doesn’t Tanya know it’s there?”

  “Sure, she does. But she doesn’t know a bronze barn was the murder weapon. The police kept that detail from the public. If they ever reveal it . . .” Looking sad, he stopped. “Then I might have to eliminate Tanya, too.” His mind seemed to shift gears. “It’s time to stop talking. It’s time to get this over with.”

  Daisy was about ready to run and take her chances when George gestured toward the hayloft with his hand that wasn’t holding the gun.

  “Up to the hayloft, Mrs. Swanson.”

  “Why would I want to go up there?”

  “Everybody knows you have a barn home. You were looking around this one to see if it could be restored instead of torn down, and you just happened to have a terrible accident. It was really lucky I stopped in at the tea garden last week and overheard Cora Sue and Karina talking. They were saying once the Quilt Lovers Weekend was over, you and Groft would start dating again. They were all atwitter because coming to the Zook barn could be romantic.”

  He motioned to the hayloft once again. “Go on, climb up that ladder.”

  Beck was too close. The gun was pointed at her heart or her midsection where it could do a lot of damage. But if she went up to the hayloft?

  “Do it now,” he said in a rougher voice.

  She was afraid if she didn’t, he’d shoot her right there. There was a soulless look in his eyes, and she guessed she couldn’t talk her way out of this. Maybe she could kick him after she started up the ladder.

  But kicking wasn’t an option. He kept that gun trained on her and he followed her up the ladder at a safe distance for him.

  As she stepped onto the hayloft’s floor, she considered swinging around and pushing him down the ladder. She couldn’t just push the ladder away because it was bolted into the floor. That made it safer for anybody climbing up. But not for her.

  Beck seemed to be particularly agile, though his foot slipped on the top rung of the ladder. She thought she had her opening and started toward him. He caught himself and waved the gun directly at her stomach again. “Get back. Get over there to the hayloft opening.”

  “Why over there?” She was wearing rubber-soled boots and glad of it. The straw on the wood could be hazardous. The last thing she wanted to do was slip and end up prone.

  “Stop asking questions!” he shouted.

  She took a couple of steps toward the hayloft opening. The wood was crumbling away from the edge just as the rest of the barn was deteriorating from the weather. Taking a deep breath, she tamped down her fear. “I’m not going to jump.”

  “Then I guess I’ll have to push you out. If the fall doesn’t kill you, then I will have to shoot you and head south to bury you. Nobody will find you. I should have buried Reese, but I thought I could frame Tessa and not go to all that trouble.”

  Somehow she had to get that gun away from Beck. Somehow she had to use the slippery straw. Beck was wearing those leather-soled boots. She could make this happen. She could.

  After reaching into her pocket to find the teapot charm, she centered her thumb on the panic button next to it. She’d only have an instant to react—an instant to move. She had to do this right or he would kill her. Her feet were planted as solidly as they could be.

  “You don’t want to do this. You really don’t.”

  But Beck wasn’t listening to her . . . rather he was listening to some instinct inside of him that said he did have to kill her.

  She pressed the panic button.

  It was loud and ear-splitting, and it was hard to tell exactly where the noise was coming from. Distracted for a moment, Beck looked around. She took the opportunity to move. She ducked but he stepped forward to grab her and push her out. She managed to tear away from him, almost falling out the hayloft opening. But she grabbed on to the wood along the side.

  Beck pointed his gun at her, stepped forward to reach for her, but she tore away. His leather-soled boots slipped on the straw. She tried to grab him but it all happened so fast. He fell out of the hayloft into the falling snow, his arms flapping as his body dove to earth.

  Daisy was scrambling down the ladder to check on Beck . . . to see if he was still alive, when she heard the wail of sirens. Someone had called the police. How? Why?

  As she reached the door of the barn, three cars were pulling onto the gravel. The first was Detective Rappaport, who ran to George Beck. Two officers jumped out of the second car and hurried after him. And in the third car? It was Jonas’s car and Tessa was with him.

  While Jonas ran to Daisy, taking her into his arms and squeezing her tight, Tessa followed the detective.

  Jonas murmured into her neck, “I was so afraid for you.”

  She just wanted to stay in his arms, but she had so many questions. She pushed away slightly. “How did you know to come?”

  Jonas continued to hold her, looking down at her with something different in his eyes. She wasn’t sure what. Clarity, maybe?

  He cleared his throat. “I stopped at the tea garden to see if I could take you out for dinner. Tessa said you were headed here for a meeting with me. Immediately we knew it was bogus.”

  Tessa returned to them, shock on her face. “The murderer was George Beck!”

  “Did George steal your phone?” Daisy asked Jonas.

  After he absorbed the news of the identity of the killer, he answered. “He didn’t have to. There are ways now, Daisy, to mask a real number and to fake another number. He probably messaged you from a burner phone but used my number. Since Tessa knew where you supposedly had gone, we took the chance, hopped in the car, and called Rappaport.”

  Speaking of the detective, the three of them looked over at him. He’d stood and was nodding his head. “We were closing in and he probably knew it. An ambulance is on its way.”

  Jonas brought Daisy tight into his body again and kissed her. Whatever their relationship was going to be, Daisy was glad to have Jonas Groft in her life.

  Epilogue

  Violet was back in town the following weekend. She’d come home on Saturday and they were all up very late that night talking about everything that had happened. At Vi’s urging, Daisy had invited Foster and his family to dinner on Sunday. While he and his dad helped in the kitchen, Violet, Jazzi, and Foster’s brother and sister played Cat-Opoly in the living room. Pepper and Marjoram looked on with curious interest. Every once in a while, Violet or Jazzi would throw the dice on the floor and both cats
would race after them, pawing them like soccer balls until everyone was laughing.

  Daisy had baked a ham this evening. Jazzi and Vi had asked for mashed potatoes and Foster was whipping those while Gavin carved the ham. Daisy was tending to the cauliflower made twice as good with cheese sauce. She’d baked loaves of yeast bread yesterday to go along with the meal.

  After Foster switched off the mixer, Daisy pointed to the yellow ceramic bowl on the counter. “Just spoon them into that and then set it on the table. If you can, you can round up everybody.”

  “Is Jonas coming?” Foster asked.

  “He’s supposed to be here. But whenever he gets here, there will still be plenty of food to eat.”

  Foster nodded. “That’s for sure. If we were at home and made mashed potatoes, we’d be eating out of the mixer bowl.”

  Daisy laughed as Foster spooned the whipped potatoes into the serving bowl and then took it to the table and set it on a trivet.

  After Foster went into the living room, Gavin pointed to the ham. “All sliced.”

  “And I’ll have a good bone for ham and bean soup, too.”

  “Is that hard to make?” Gavin asked.

  “Not at all. You can even do it in a slow cooker if you use canned beans. I’ll write down the recipe for you.”

  “I’d like that. I’m ready for the meat platter if you have one.”

  Daisy produced a white ironstone platter that matched her dishes.

  Gavin forked the ham onto the plate. “I want to apologize for the things I said to you. I overreacted.”

  “I know how hard it is to be a single parent. I understand.”

  “That’s still no excuse for my rudeness or for thinking I knew about Foster’s life when I didn’t.”

  “Our children can’t tell us everything. And as they get older, they don’t want to. I think they feel keeping things to themselves makes them more adult.”

  “I’m grateful for the solution you suggested. I don’t want Foster to have to pay for living under my roof, but if it gives him more responsibility and makes him feel like an adult, that’s what matters.”

  Daisy nodded. “He’s really a terrific young man.”

  “That he is.”

  After Gavin had finished transferring the ham from the carving board to the serving plate, he shook his head. “I keep thinking about George Beck’s son and the heartache his father’s actions will cause him and his mother.”

  “I know. George was fortunate he didn’t break more than his leg, arm, and collarbone when he fell.”

  “The snow probably cushioned his fall. What are the charges against him?”

  Detective Rappaport had stopped by the tea garden on Friday to talk to her and Tessa. Since the charges had been entered into the public record, he’d explained them. She related them to Gavin. George Beck would be charged with aggravated assault, criminal attempted homicide, and second-degree murder, to name the most serious.

  “Foster told me about Reese being attacked at the gallery before he was murdered. Was that George Beck, too?” Gavin inquired.

  “No. The police got to the bottom of that. Reese had a meeting with Dutch Pickel that night. Dutch was the one who assaulted him. Reese had decided to stop paying Dutch to keep his past a secret. Dutch was blackmailing him.”

  “I read in that newspaper article that fraud was involved too.”

  “I don’t know much, but the detective told me they did find discrepancies in Cogley’s books and there are charges of fraud and tax evasion pending against him.”

  “That was a good interview Tessa Miller did with Trevor Lundquist. If anyone did think she was involved in the murder, that should put those thoughts to rest.”

  “Trevor wrote about her and the situation in his online blog, too. All that has helped her to recover her standing in the community.”

  Foster had somehow managed to coax everyone to the table. They were all ready to take their seats when the doorbell rang.

  “I’ll get it,” Daisy said, hurrying toward the door before anyone else could.

  When she opened the door, she found Jonas there, holding a bouquet of pink roses. Daisy hadn’t spoken to Jonas much all week. He’d stopped in at the tea garden a couple of times but they really hadn’t talked, so she hadn’t known exactly what he was thinking or feeling. Now, however, with him holding out the pink roses to her, she saw that look in his eyes that she’d noticed last Sunday at the Zook barn—clarity.

  “I hope I’m not late.” His mouth quirked up a bit.

  “You’re just in time. We’re ready to sit down to dinner.” But before she could move toward the dining area, he caught her arm. “Daisy, I know this probably isn’t the best time to say this, but almost losing you twice has shown me we have to live for today.”

  “What does that mean?” Her heart was beating so hopefully that she could hardly breathe.

  “It means that I’d like to take you skiing and then to dinner and then for hot toddies or whatever else we’d like. What do you say?”

  Daisy stood on tiptoe and placed a kiss on his lips. As she backed away, he surrounded her with his arms, roses and all.

  She gazed into his eyes and answered his question. “I say yes.”

  ORIGINAL RECIPES

  Daisy’s Cinnamon Scones

  Preheat oven to 400 degrees.

  2 cups all-purpose flour

  ⅓ cup granulated sugar plus 2 tablespoons

  1 teaspoon cinnamon (½ teaspoon in dough and

  ½ teaspoon mixed with 2 tablespoons sugar)

  1 teaspoon baking powder

  ¼ teaspoon baking soda

  1 teaspoon salt

  8 tablespoons (1 stick) frozen unsalted butter,

  grated (I let it sit unrefrigerated 5–10 minutes

  before grating.)

  ¾ cup cinnamon chips

  ⅓ cup ground pecans

  1 large egg

  ¾ cup reduced-fat buttermilk

  In a large mixer bowl, stir together flour, ⅓ cup sugar, ½ teaspoon cinnamon, baking powder, baking soda, and salt. Add grated butter to flour mixture and beat it in. Stir in cinnamon chips and pecans.

  In a separate bowl whisk the egg with the buttermilk, then mix into flour dough with mixer. Scoop out eight large scones (I use a ¼-cup scoop or measuring cup with handle) and place on a cookie sheet lined with parchment. Sprinkle with cinnamon/sugar mixture. Bake 17–19 minutes at 400 degrees until golden brown.

  Beef Barley Soup

  1 pound beef stewing cubes (cut in small pieces)

  ½ cup onion

  3 tablespoons high heat sunflower oil

  1 quart Swanson chicken broth

  1 quart Swanson beef broth

  1 cup water

  1 bay leaf

  teaspoon pepper

  1 cup sliced carrots

  1 cup sliced celery

  1 cup zucchini, peeled and sliced

  ½ cup Quaker quick barley

  In soup pot, brown stewing cubes and onion in three tablespoons sunflower oil. Add chicken and beef broth, water, bay leaf, and pepper. Bring to a boil. Turn to simmer with lid on pot for 1 hour. Add carrots and celery. Simmer for 20 minutes. Bring soup to a boil and add zucchini and barley. Cook another 15 minutes at a low boil.

  Serve with your favorite crusty bread . . . or scones!

  Serves 6 to 8.

  Lemon-Pepper Tomato Mozzarella Salad

  3–4 cups cherry tomatoes, halved (I like to use

  assorted colors.)

  ¼ cup scallions, chopped (These can be omitted or

  just used as topping depending on your taste.)

  Use bulb and first inch of green.

  4 ounces fresh mozzarella, cut into bite-size pieces

  (It comes in many forms—small or large balls

  and a log shape, sometimes sliced.)

  1½ tablespoons lemon pepper

  ¼ teaspoon garlic powder

  ¼ teaspoon onion powder

  ¼ teaspoon sea s
alt

  2 tablespoons sesame oil

  4 tablespoons white wine vinegar

  Mix cherry tomatoes, scallions, and mozzarella. Sprinkle with lemon pepper, garlic powder, onion powder, and sea salt. Stir gently to coat mixture. Drizzle with oil and then vinegar. Stir again. Refrigerate and serve when dinner is ready!

  Serves 6.