Nola’s smile was weak but it was there. “Thank you. Now I’d better return to my office. It’s the only place I see Elliott these days. We’re splitting up our files and accounts. Once it’s done, I can really move on.”
Standing, she gave Daisy a last wavering smile and then she left the social hall.
Watching her, Daisy noted that Nola hadn’t even nodded to her ex-husband as she exited the building. He was speaking with two other suited men who were probably lawyers too. They all had that look, a look that Marshall Thompson, who was standing a few feet from Elliot and his group, wore often.
Marshall, who had been an acquaintance of Jonas’s, had come to Daisy’s and her aunt’s aid when her aunt had been accused of murder. He had also helped a friend of Daisy’s. Marshall was tall, about six-two. Thick snow-white hair made him more than handsome. His suits always fit impeccably. She was about to go over to him to say hello. However, when she was about three feet away from him and the two men he was speaking with, she stopped. She heard the words Hope Clinic. Since the men were standing near the table that held punch, she stopped there to ladle herself a cup.
One of the younger men with gelled hair and hipster glasses was telling Marshall, “Only the CEO and Hiram know who caused the incident at the clinic that destroyed the eggs and embryos. The CEO’s not talking and now Hiram’s dead.”
Marshall asked, “Are you sure the CEO knows?”
The younger lawyer answered, “He flew out of the country. Everybody thinks he knows. Maybe he’s denying it because he doesn’t want to be in anybody’s crosshairs.”
“Crosshairs?” Marshall asked.
The other man looked grave. “Hiram’s dead, isn’t he? He took his information to his grave. That’s a real definition of attorney-client privilege.”
Though Daisy wanted to listen to more of the conversation, Lawrence Bishop hurried over to her. He was pale, his forehead creased with deep lines. He looked more upset than Daisy had ever seen him.
“What’s wrong?” she asked him as he approached her.
“Piper just called me. The police called her . . . and Emory. The detective wants them to go down to the police station tomorrow.”
“Did something happen?”
“It’s all because of that news footage.”
Daisy set down her punch cup and took Lawrence by the arm to a spot near the wall where no one was standing. “Slow down. What news footage?”
“You saw the argument Emory had with Hiram, didn’t you?”
“Yes, I did.”
Agitated, Lawrence hit his palm against the wall. “The TV camera caught it. The police were going over the footage and they saw Emory fighting with Hiram. Piper told me they also found out she was a client at the clinic, a client who was damaged by what happened. I said I’d go with Piper but she doesn’t want me involved in this. She doesn’t want the police to bring me into the equation too. There was only one thing I could think of to do to help them.”
“What was that?”
His gaze was intent on hers. “I know you’ve helped with other murder investigations. Both of us were in the middle of the last one, weren’t we?”
Knowing what was coming, she shook her head, her blond hair rippling against her cheek. “Lawrence, I really don’t want to get involved in this one.”
His voice was low and coaxing when he said, “I can understand that. But even if you don’t get involved, you can still help. Can you give Piper, at least, pointers on how to handle the detectives? I don’t want her and Emory to turn into suspects.”
“They should be consulting a lawyer, Lawrence, not me.”
“I told Piper I would pay for a lawyer. She refused. She said she and Emory have borrowed enough money from me and they don’t want to take any more handouts. So the closest thing I thought to a lawyer was you. Piper’s down the street working at the bike shop. They’re open until late. Will you talk with her?”
After a few moments of consideration, Daisy gave in. “Do you mind if Jonas comes along? He has as much insight into this as I do, maybe even more.”
“That’s fine,” Lawrence agreed. “I know you understand helping your kids. You’ve done a lot for Vi and Foster. I still think of Piper as my little girl even though I know she’s not. Emory tries hard but I just don’t think he always understands Piper. I do.”
Daisy wondered if there was a rivalry between Emory and Lawrence, and if Piper had to choose her loyalty carefully. That wasn’t a good situation to put her in. Daisy was grateful her dad had always supported her decisions but didn’t hold her back. He let her make her own mistakes. That was an important part of learning to be an adult. She’d tried to do the same with Jazzi and Vi. She supposed she wouldn’t know if she’d succeeded for another twenty years or so.
Since a light breeze blew and the sun cascaded down over the waterfall begonia flower pots that the town had hung on lamp posts, Daisy and Jonas strolled toward Wheels a short time later, enjoying the June weather. The bike shop had opened last fall on Sage Street which was in a section of Willow Creek that had begun to be revitalized. Old buildings had been given new facelifts that consisted of sandblasting, colorful siding, and black shutters. The black shutters were a theme the town council had decided would spruce up the whole town. Businesses had a choice, of course. But the town council believed the more shops that used the black shutters along with flowerpots in front of their shops, the more the shops would attract tourists. Daisy had to admit they were probably right.
Wheels had taken over a small warehouse on a corner. Large plate glass windows had been inserted into the storefront with black shutters on either side. The window displays were arranged with bicycles of every make and color. Daisy had no idea what the differences were between bicycles. She simply knew that they appeared sleek, much different from bikes she’d used as a kid. They also looked costly.
A row house stood next to the small warehouse corner shop and was fashioned in the same beige siding, black shutters, roof corbels, and narrow attic windows that were shuttered. Up a few steps, the front door was framed. The doorframe was an elliptical-style arch with keystones. The front door itself was painted bright blue. Daisy wondered if the shop owner lived there.
Daisy and Jonas stopped at one of the windows to peer inside. “Do you know anything about bicycles?” she asked.
“A little,” he said. “When I was in Philly, I had a bike so I could get around faster sometimes in traffic.”
When she glanced at him to see if he was telling the truth, he winked. “I rode trail bikes too. It’s a great form of exercise. Mine wasn’t nearly as expensive as any of these.”
“How much do you think these cost?”
He pointed to a matte black bike in the center. “That one has a carbon steel frame and it looks stylish. It probably has mechanical front and rear disc brakes. My guess is that it would run around seven hundred bucks.”
Daisy whistled. “You’re kidding, right?”
He pointed to another one. “That’s a Schwinn. It would probably come in around two hundred fifty dollars. It’s a mountain bike.”
To Daisy the gray bike Jonas had indicated looked sturdy, maybe what a boy might use. “I really like color on my bikes,” Daisy commented, thinking that her comment sounded very girly.
Jonas just smiled and pointed. “There’s one. That’s a twenty-inch mountain bike for a girl.”
Daisy studied the bike with its blue bars and another one that was a little larger with pink bars.
“Both of those probably come in around three hundred dollars,” he said. “Of course, there are always used bikes for sale in the community paper.”
“Or at an auction,” Daisy mused.
Daisy and Jonas moved on to the second plate glass window. “That’s probably more like what I would use to run errands around the tea garden.”
Jonas laughed as he studied the bike. They were both peering at an Amish kick scooter foot bike with a basket.
It was
a combination of bicycle and scooter, and many Amish women used them. The one they were staring at was hunter green.
“Even those are about three hundred dollars new,” Jonas said.
Now that they were at the second window, Daisy could see Piper moving around inside the store. She had a cloth in her hand and was polishing one of the bikes.
Daisy motioned to the young woman. “I don’t know what to tell her. I want to help Lawrence but I don’t want her to get into trouble.”
“Just tell her about your experiences. Speak the truth. I’ll do the same. You’ve got this, Daisy.”
Jonas’s accepting expression coaxed Daisy to lean against him, look up at him, and touch his jaw. So much had changed between them within the last few months. She could feel it. She liked what she was feeling.
A buzzer sounded when they opened the door to the shop and Piper looked up. Her freckles were more noticeable today, maybe because she was so pale. Nervous about her appointment at the police station?
With a slight frown, Piper messed up her auburn bangs by sifting her fingers through them. “Dad texted me that you were coming. I’ve been shaking since I got the call. I’m scared to death I’m going to say or do something wrong.”
Wanting to put Piper at ease, Daisy glanced around the shop. “Your dad said you were the manager here.”
Piper looked confused for a moment at Daisy’s change of subject. “I am, but I don’t know what that has to do with—”
Jonas interrupted. “Piper, I think Daisy’s trying to get you to be a little more relaxed so that you can listen to what she’s saying and maybe hear her better. If you’re all tensed up and stressed out, the information she gives you could go right over your head.”
Piper’s gaze canvassed the shop. When she turned back to Daisy, she was close to tears. “I understand that. One of the reasons I bike is to release stress.”
“So you don’t just sell bikes, you also ride them?” Daisy asked with a smile. She felt maternal toward the young woman who wasn’t much older than Vi.
Piper tapped the bike handles as if she loved thinking about cycling. “I ride at least twenty miles a day. It’s great exercise, keeps me in shape, and I feel like I’m flying away from all my problems.”
Jonas nudged Daisy. “Maybe we should consider buying bikes. It would be something fun to do. Jazzi might even enjoy it.”
“It’s something to think about,” Daisy agreed.
The buzzer on the shop door sounded. They all looked toward the door.
An Amish woman came in. She was dressed like Daisy’s friend Rachel Fisher. The strings on the woman’s kapp swept down over her black apron and she wore a dress of dark violet. She even had blond hair like Rachel’s that was pulled away from her face into a bun under her kapp.
The woman walked over to one of the Amish bike scooters and put her hand on the basket.
Piper raised her brows at Daisy and Jonas, and Daisy said, “Go ahead. We have time.”
When Piper approached the woman she asked, “Are you interested in the bike scooter?”
“I am. I have saved my money a long time for this.”
Piper began talking to the woman about the advantages of the bike scooter and its merits.
Jonas said to Daisy, “Piper loves what she’s doing here. She’ll be more relaxed now when we talk to her.”
Daisy hoped that was so because whatever advice Daisy gave Piper might keep her from becoming one of the detectives’ suspects.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Twenty minutes later Daisy, Jonas, and Piper sat in a circle of sorts near a stand of bicycles.
Piper looked anxious when she turned to Daisy. “What do I need to know? What does Emory need to know? Maybe I should write it all down.” She was about to jump out of her chair to cross to the desk for pen and paper.
Daisy grabbed her arm. “Just sit and listen, Piper. Then if you want to write anything down, you can. But I’m not going to give you the top ten ways to talk to a detective.” She kept her voice light, hoping Piper would relax again.
Piper ran her hand through her auburn hair and looked down at her lap. “Sometimes I feel a little crazy. So much is going on . . . so much has happened.”
Daisy took Piper’s hand. “There aren’t any secrets about how to talk to the police. You only have to do one thing—tell them the truth.”
Piper’s gaze held uncertainty and fear. “What if I’m not sure what the truth is? I mean, not just for me but for Emory too?”
“The only way you’re going to get into trouble,” Daisy said, “is if you give them too much information and more than they need to know. Don’t embellish anything.”
Jonas nodded and added, “Listen to their questions. Only answer the question. Even if they remain silent. Don’t jump into the silence. Don’t add what you think they want to know. Don’t add more than they ask.”
“There is something important I’d like to know,” Daisy said.
“What?”
“Do you have an alibi?”
Regretfully Piper shook her head. “And Emory doesn’t either.”
“He wasn’t with you?” Jonas inquired.
Piper’s face reddened enough that her freckles practically disappeared. “We had another disagreement about joining the class action suit. We argued about it. After he left our apartment, he didn’t return until morning.”
“Did he tell you where he went?” Jonas asked.
First Piper looked at Daisy and then at Jonas. “He told me that he drove to Philadelphia to talk to a lawyer that his dad knew. But the attorney wasn’t there.”
“And he didn’t come home after that?” Daisy asked.
Again looking embarrassed, Piper answered, “Emory said he went to a bar in Kennett Square and he stayed until three A.M. Then he pulled into a public parking lot and slept until morning.”
“Do you believe he’s telling the truth?” Daisy asked, hoping Piper’s belief in her husband wasn’t shaken.
“When he did come home, I could smell the alcohol on him. And his clothes looked as if he’d slept in them.”
Daisy exchanged a look with Jonas and she could almost read his mind. Neither Piper nor Emory had an alibi. That wouldn’t bode well when they spoke to the police.
Obviously thinking the same thing she was, Jonas gave a nod.
Daisy directed Piper, “Now you can get that pen and paper. I’m going to give you the name of an attorney that you should call. His name’s Marshall Thompson. Tell him we recommended him.”
“But attorney fees . . .” Piper started.
“Marshall usually gives his consultation fee pro bono and then you only call him if you need him. I think you and Emory need him.”
* * *
Daisy knew it was only a matter of time.
The next morning, in fact, Detective Rappaport opened the door to the tea garden and lumbered inside. He didn’t take a table as he sometimes did but crossed to the sales counter. He was standing there when Daisy exited the kitchen to see if Cora Sue needed help serving. The detective’s gaze settled on her.
“I know why you’re here,” Daisy said instead of her usual friendly greeting.
Morris Rappaport had thick blond hair with lots of gray strands that looked as if it had been trimmed recently. Grooves around his mouth sometimes made him look younger . . . but not today because he wasn’t smiling. There were plenty of lines on his face and his light gray suit coat was already creased. He’d also loosened his navy tie and pulled it a few inches below his open white shirt collar. “You know what I’m here for?” he asked.
“Maybe because I have a new batch of whoopie pies with peanut butter filling. The word must have gotten around the station.” Her attempt at levity fell flat.
He looked exasperated with her. “Daisy, I have to ask you a few questions.”
Apparently he wasn’t going to join her in a bit of friendly rapport. They had started out as adversaries a few years ago, but they’d come to respect e
ach other. Today she wasn’t sure the detective had time for respect.
Still she couldn’t let him bully her. “We can go to my office to talk. I’ll have Cora Sue bring us whoopie pies. What kind of tea do you want?”
“I didn’t say I wanted tea,” he grumbled.
Looking him straight in the eyes, she asked, “Do you want a glass of iced tea?”
“Yeah, that would be good,” he admitted, giving in.
Daisy almost smiled. When Detective Morris Rappaport was argumentative like this, it usually meant his case wasn’t going well.
After they were seated in her office and Cora Sue had brought in glasses of iced tea and a bone china plate with the detective’s favorite dessert, Rappaport crossed his arms on Daisy’s desk. She thought she’d let him have the chair at the desk if it made him feel in charge.
“You pick up things that other people don’t pick up,” he began. “I saw you on the TV tapes, more than simply the ones that aired. You were listening to conversations, looking all around, serving people food. I want you to start at the beginning and talk about everything you saw and heard that day.”
She knew her eyes probably grew wide. “Everything?”
He sat back in her desk chair. “I’ll sift out what I think all of it has to do with Hiram’s murder. Now talk to me. Start to finish.”
Daisy did. She was pretty sure she was boring him when she told him about setting up the canopies and Jonas helping her with that. He looked agitated, probably because he didn’t hear anything clue-like in her recitations when she explained that she and Iris had carried food and supplies from their work van to the tables and made everything look spiffy.
“Spiffy?” he asked.
“I just wanted to see if you were awake.”
“Go on,” he growled.
“Lawrence Bishop wanted me to meet his daughter Piper and his son-in-law Emory.”
“I know Bishop. He’s involved in several community functions. Why did he want you to meet his daughter?”
“Piper and Emory had been hurt by what had happened at the Hope Clinic and he wanted me to talk to Piper, woman to woman.”
Murder with Orange Pekoe Tea Page 8