Murder with Orange Pekoe Tea

by Karen Rose Smith

  On her break she walked down to Woods, eager to see Jonas’s smile . . . eager to see him. The furniture store was still busy with activity but not quite as busy as the other day when she’d stopped in.

  Elijah Beiler noticed her and waved. The Amish woodworker who sold furniture through Jonas’s shop was dressed the way he always was—in black pants with suspenders and a dark blue shirt. His beard signified that he was married.

  She crossed to him where he was polishing a dark wood chest. “You need Jonas, ya?” he asked with a small grin.

  “I’d like to talk to him to see how he’s doing. Do you think you’re ready for the sale?”

  “Getting there. Certain sure we’ll be ready by the weekend. Jonas is in the workroom with his friend Zeke.”

  Daisy wondered what that was about. Jonas and Zeke had started over as friends in recent months. But that thread between them might still be fragile.

  “If they’re too involved in conversation,” she told Elijah, “I’ll come back out here and look at all this beautiful furniture.”

  Going behind the sales counter, Daisy went to the door that led into Jonas’s workshop. A ventilation fan was humming in the room but she could still slightly smell the scent of stain and wood and polish. Jonas and Zeke were standing near Jonas’s office, a cubicle that hardly had room for a desk and one other person. She didn’t know whether to join the men or not. Because of the sound of the fan, they hadn’t heard her come in. She could simply leave again.

  She studied their faces which were serious but not stony. When Jonas was angry or particularly tense, the scar along his cheek stood out much more. It didn’t stand out now. He just looked as if he was listening intently to whatever Zeke had to say. Zeke’s handsome face with his squarish jaw seemed questioning but not particularly perturbed. Both men’s stances weren’t relaxed but they weren’t tense either.

  Her curiosity won out. After all, Zeke was probably working on Hiram’s murder investigation. That’s what he and Jonas might be discussing. Jonas had left his old profession behind but he was still a detective at heart.

  As she approached, the two men heard her and stopped talking. After greetings all around, Zeke said, “You must have mental telepathy.”

  “Why?” she asked innocently. “Are you two discussing something I’d be interested in?”

  The two men exchanged a look.

  Jonas explained, “Daisy just came by to ask me what time I’m taking her to dinner tonight.” He winked at Daisy.

  “You two don’t believe in texting?” Zeke asked sarcastically.

  “Face to face is much better,” Jonas told him, hanging his arm around Daisy’s shoulders.

  Zeke rolled his eyes. “I might as well tell you what I was just telling Jonas. You’ll question him until he spills it anyway.”

  Jonas just gave a little shrug as if that was normal in their relationship now.

  Zeke grimaced. “I was just telling Jonas that the security guard at the Hope Clinic carries a stun gun.”

  “Do you think he’s the one who used it on Hiram?” Daisy wanted to know.

  Zeke leaned against the doorjamb and sighed. “That’s what I was discussing with Jonas. It seems a little too obvious.”

  After studying Zeke’s face, Daisy said, “But there’s more to it than that, isn’t there?”

  Zeke shook his head. “Telepathic. I knew it. I asked the guard if he knew who was responsible for the clinic’s mishap when all the eggs and embryos were destroyed. He insists he doesn’t know.”

  “You don’t believe him,” Daisy suspected. “You think he’s holding back something.”

  After a long look at Daisy, Zeke said, “Maybe we should have had you interrogate him. I still don’t get why people talk to you so easily.”

  “Probably because she doesn’t grill them to death,” Jonas said. “She strikes up a conversation and they spill whatever they know. It’s those blue eyes of hers.”

  Daisy batted her lashes at both of them. “Honestly, you two. I’ve been underestimated my whole life because of my blue eyes and blond hair. Don’t you two do it too.” A note of warning in her voice made them both smile.

  “I wouldn’t dream of it,” Zeke told her seriously. “I know you’re a force to be reckoned with. Jonas doesn’t realize what he’s getting himself into.”

  “Oh, I realize it,” Jonas said. “That’s why we make such a good couple.”

  Zeke looked from one of them to the other and nodded. “You know, when I think about all the suspects for this murder, I think mostly of all those couples who lost their chance to have children.”

  Both Jonas and Zeke knew what that felt like. Jonas had been dating his partner when he was a detective. She’d become pregnant with some manipulation on her part, having her IUD removed when Jonas didn’t know about it. She’d wanted to have a family with him even though Jonas had been against having kids because his own dad, a law enforcement officer, had been killed in the line of duty. He hadn’t wanted that to happen to a family of his.

  Zeke had been friends with both Jonas and Brenda. One night, Brenda had betrayed Jonas with Zeke. The whole situation had ripped Jonas’s and Zeke’s friendship apart. When Brenda died, a baby had died too. Jonas and Zeke hadn’t known which of them was the father, but they’d both felt the loss. Both men had grieved and felt torn up inside. So Daisy believed Zeke when he said he understood what the couples felt.

  Jonas squeezed her shoulders tighter and she knew he did too.

  “Do you really think that could be a motive for murder?” Daisy asked.

  “You saw how Emory Wagner went after Hiram on the video,” Zeke pointed out. “My guess is that his anger was more about losing the chance to be a dad than it was about a class action suit.”

  “Any luck tracing more witnesses who might have seen someone on the street after Hiram was murdered?”

  “No more witnesses. We’re going to lean harder on Eli Lapp.”

  With a quick look at Jonas, Daisy could see Jonas didn’t like the idea.

  Zeke took a deep breath and then blew it out. “I know you don’t think he had anything to do with it, and maybe he didn’t. But he could know something that could lead us to a clue. It’s quite possible somebody wanted the name of the person who caused the clinic’s problem.”

  “Hiram wasn’t the only one who knew,” Daisy said. “So did Troy Richter.”

  “Yes, well, it’s public knowledge that Troy has been out of town . . . out of the country actually. We did some checking. The day after you saw him with Hiram at the tea garden, Troy flew to the Grand Caymans. We’re still waiting to talk to him.”

  “He wasn’t here when Hiram was murdered?”

  “Apparently not,” Zeke stated as if he didn’t like the idea. “We’ll be questioning him further once he’s back. But if Hiram was the only other person who knew and someone wanted revenge on the tech who caused the malfunction, then Hiram was the target.”

  “Do you think he gave up the information?” Jonas asked.

  “I don’t know. If he did, someone else could be in danger. If he didn’t, Troy is probably fortunate to be away.”

  Zeke’s attention swung back to Daisy. For a moment she thought he was going to lecture her again about not becoming involved. He’d done that before along with Detective Rappaport. However, this time he said, “I know you hear rumors at the tea garden. I know people can’t keep their mouths shut no matter what secrets they’re keeping. So if you hear anything, let me know.”

  “I will,” Daisy promised. She meant it.

  * * *

  That evening, Daisy decided to take a drive and visit a friend to pick up fresh eggs. The drive to Rachel and Levi Fisher’s farm always calmed her. This time of year, farms came alive in so many ways. She would spot a farmer with six mules tilling a field or women hanging laundry on wash lines that were strung from the house to the barn. Every sight helped her remember childhood days on the farm with Rachel.

  Back t
hen Rachel’s parents had grown shrubs and trees for Daisy’s mom and dad to sell at Gallagher’s Garden Corner. Daisy had spent many days with Rachel and had learned to admire the Amish family and their way of life. Her family and Rachel’s had lived very differently. Rachel’s family hadn’t used electricity and they’d traveled in horse-drawn buggies. But both families’ values had been very much alike—hard work, strong faith, and deep family bonds.

  As she drove down the lane that led to the back of the Fishers’ house, Daisy remembered sitting along the shore of the pond with Rachel, squishing their bare toes in the mud. She remembered high cornstalks and the hide-and-seek games they’d played within the rows. She recalled Rachel’s brothers and their fondness for naughtiness and practical jokes. The farm had held wonders Daisy couldn’t find in her own backyard—a snowy owl high in the barn eaves in winter, springtime kittens running amidst the hay bales in the barn, a springhouse where the family had kept watermelons, potatoes, and onions. Daisy had learned to ride a horse on that farm as well as drive a buggy. She hadn’t done either in a very long time.

  Daisy left her car in a gravel area meant for parking and took a huge indrawn breath of honeysuckle, trees that had blossomed, and grass that had recently been mowed. She heard hammering in the distance.

  Levi’s grandmother came to the door of the mudroom before Daisy could even knock. Mary was short and wore a dark purple dress today with a black apron. Her gray hair in a bun was defined by a white kapp and the strings floated behind her shoulders. Her face was wrinkled with her age and her smile. “Did you come for my wonderful gut shoofly pie? You are just in time for it.”

  “It’s good to see you again, Mary. Actually I came for eggs.”

  “No reason why you can’t enjoy shoofly pie before you leave with eggs, ya?”

  Rachel came to the door to stand beside Mary. “Good to see you. I have your eggs ready, but like Maam says, you need to come in and have shoofly pie and tea. Ain’t so?”

  As Rachel drew her into the kitchen, Daisy relaxed into her memories of long ago. The kitchen smelled wonderful. The aroma of roast meat was still in the air as well the sweet sugary scent of pie. A breeze blew through the window above the sink. Daisy noticed a teakettle sitting on the gas stove. Rachel must have turned it on before she came out to greet Daisy.

  Mary took teacups and saucers from the beautifully fashioned handmade hutch in the corner and set them on the table. Mary helped any way she could on the farm and did much of the cooking. But she also spelled Rachel at the shop now and then. Active, with sharpness and intelligence shining in her blue eyes, she didn’t show her actual years.

  “You heard the hammering outside?” she asked.

  “I did. Is Levi working on Esther and Daniel’s house?”

  The construction was on Rachel’s property. One of her daughters was getting married and her betrothed along with members of Rachel’s family were building a house for them.

  “Even Esther is helping them,” Rachel said with a shake of her head. “She’s always been such a tomboy, and there are special touches she wants in her house.”

  Daisy knew that didn’t mean decorative touches. The Amish considered decorations prideful. But Daisy suspected a window over the kitchen sink would be one of the features that Esther desired in order to watch children out back in the future.

  “The house will be well-built, that’s certain sure,” Mary said. “Levi knows how to handle wood just like your beau, Jonas.”

  Daisy smiled. Everyone in town seemed to know that she and Jonas were serious now. Much of what had happened between them had been very public. She found she didn’t mind that at all.

  “I hear Jonas and Elijah are going to have some sale. It’s the talk of the town,” Rachel said.

  “I hope they do well for everyone’s sake,” Daisy said.

  Rachel pulled out a chair and pointed to it. “Sit. Take the day off your feet.”

  Mary had already brought the shoofly pie to the table and scooped out a big slice for Daisy.

  “You want my sweet tooth to grow, right?” Daisy asked the older woman.

  Mary grinned. “I know how you like your sweets. You wouldn’t bake them so gut if you didn’t.”

  Rachel’s youngest, Luke, who was eighteen now, hurried through the mudroom to the kitchen. His face was red under his black hat and he looked hot in his blue work shirt and black trousers. One suspender slipped crookedly over his shoulder.

  When he rushed in, oblivious to Daisy, Rachel said, “We have company.”

  He stopped and turned and smiled at Daisy. “Hi! Gut to see you.” Then he looked at his mother. “I just came in for a thermos of that lemonade. We’re all terrible hot.”

  Rachel went to the counter to pick up a jug. “It’s all made and ready for you. You only have another hour or so of daylight.”

  “Esther’s a slave driver,” he grumbled.

  Rachel laughed. “Rather her than your dat.” Dat was the Pennsylvania Dutch word for father.

  Luke took another look at Daisy. “Are you going to help Eli so the law doesn’t nab him?”

  Mary warned, “Luke.”

  The Amish didn’t want to become involved with any law enforcement or any government entity as far as that went. They wanted to stay off the grid as much as they could and Daisy had always understood that.

  “I don’t think Eli needs my help,” Daisy said.

  “One of those detectives, Zeke Willet, has questioned him three times. Word is—Eli’s in big trouble. It’s a shame this happened now.”

  Rachel and Mary looked as curious as Daisy was. So Daisy asked, “Why do you say that?”

  “You know Eli’s family shunned him.”

  Daisy nodded because Rachel had told her that.

  Rachel interjected, “Luke, I hope you’re not going to share gossip.”

  Daisy was well aware that gossiping was considered a sin with the Amish.

  “No gossip.” He looked toward Daisy once more. “You know his familye will accept him back if he repents.”

  If Eli repented and recommitted himself to his faith and community, his family would open their arms to him once more. “I understand that,” Daisy acknowledged.

  “It’s a secret,” Luke said with his voice lowered a little.

  “If it’s a secret, you shouldn’t be talking about it,” Rachel reminded him with a motherly glare.

  “I know Daisy can keep a secret,” Luke concluded with certainty.

  Daisy held out her hand to Luke as if to stop him. “If you tell me something that has anything to do with the murder, I might have to let the police know.”

  “Nothing to do with the murder,” Luke assured her. “It’s just Eli and Miriam Yoder have been seeing each other secretly. He knows the Millers would be against it. But if he gets gut with God and the bishop again, he and Miriam should have a future.”

  Could Eli be thinking about rejoining the Amish community? If so, did that have anything to do with Hiram Hershberger’s murder?

  CHAPTER NINE

  Daisy enjoyed serving the outside tables at the tea garden. The flagstone patio with its many colors of gray, green, taupe, tan, and dark brown lay under white tables with glass tops. The jaunty umbrellas bore yellow-and-white stripes in their canvas coverage. Alongside the building, Daisy had set pots with all kinds of herbs from ornamental oregano to pineapple sage to rosemary and lemongrass. In between those pots sat yard ornaments. Her favorite was a cat perched on top of books that were set upon a stone. The cat wore glasses.

  She took a few deep breaths, inhaling the herbal scents. This would be a busy weekend. Her sister Camellia was visiting and staying with their parents. She’d arrived last night. Daisy wanted to stop in and see her at the nursery if she could manage a break between morning customers and afternoon tea service. She was hoping to convince Camellia to join her and Jonas at the carnival tomorrow night. Her sister wouldn’t enjoy the chicken potpie dinner—she vigilantly watched her calories, bu
t she might like the music and other treats at the carnival. Daisy was hoping dinner at her parents’ house on Sunday would be pleasant instead of contentious as Camellia’s visits sometimes were.

  This Friday morning as Daisy canvassed the patio to make sure everyone had been served to their liking, she spotted someone she had been looking for in particular—Marshall Thompson, the lawyer she’d consulted on many an occasion. He sat alone at a table, drinking iced tea. Her aunt had told her that he’d requested orange pekoe and he wanted to see Daisy when she was free. Knowing Marshall liked baked goods, she brought him a plate with an assortment of lemon tea cakes, chocolate espresso cookies, and a cinnamon scone. Today Marshall wasn’t wearing his suit jacket. His white shirt was crisp, although he’d opened it at the collar. The morning was already warm. His office wasn’t that far away and she assumed he’d walked. Although he was in his sixties, Marshall was fit and took care of himself.

  He smiled at her as she approached him with the plate of cookies.

  “How did you know I was ready for a second breakfast?” he asked in a joking manner.

  “A little birdie told me you might enjoy them.”

  He laughed a deep chuckling sound and said, “Your aunt knows my tastes. I come in here often enough.”

  Daisy pulled out one of the white chairs around the table from him. “Did you stop in for a good start to your day?”

  “Maybe that and a little conversation.”

  She eyed him speculatively. “Should I guess what that conversation would be about?”

  “It’s about Hiram, of course.”

  “You’re the only one who spoke at the memorial service who knew him. I was glad you did that. It’s a shame Eli didn’t speak as well.”

  Taking a lemon tea cake from the crystal dish, Marshall held it. “I think Eli Lapp was afraid he’d say something he shouldn’t, something that might embarrass him or Hiram or maybe the Amish community. Right now, I think that boy is trying to get back into his family and doesn’t want to set anybody’s teeth on edge.”