Murder with Cinnamon Scones Read online

  Elijah went to the counter in the back of the store and reached underneath. After he brought out a few sketches, he carried them to Daisy and Tessa. “Would you like to look at these? They’re what Jonas has in mind.”

  When Daisy had renovated the old barn that she now called home, she’d included an island in her kitchen. She’d examined many in her search for the best one for her use and was familiar with the styles. She admired the plans for islands that Jonas had designed, as well as those for a sideboard table and a practical desk.

  “You and Jonas are both very talented,” Daisy said, meaning it.

  A humble man like most Amish, Elijah reddened at her praise. “Like me, Jonas takes pleasure in bringing the real nature of wood to life.”

  “I’m looking forward to seeing what the two of you come up with,” Daisy assured him. She glanced at Tessa. “We’d better go. I want to get home to the girls.”

  “I’ll tell Jonas you stopped in,” Elijah assured them.

  Daisy wasn’t certain she wanted him to do that, but she kept silent. After a round of good-byes, she and Tessa left Woods.

  They walked briskly up the street. In front of Daisy’s Tea Garden, they paused and glanced at their Victorian. The tea garden took up the first floor. Tessa lived in the second-floor apartment and used the attic for painting.

  A light that came on at dusk and went off at dawn glowed on the front porch. It illuminated the pale green exterior with its white and yellow trim. On the first floor Daisy and her aunt had furnished the be-served or buy-it-to-go room with oak, glass-top tables. She’d painted the walls the palest green. A second tea room on the first floor was a spillover area. It was also the room they used when they took reservations and served afternoon tea by appointment. That room’s walls were the palest yellow.

  Daisy’s office was located to the rear of the tea room and the kitchen spread behind the walk-in room. They also had a side patio where they served customers outside, weather permitting. A private parking area for Daisy’s, her aunt’s, and Tessa’s vehicles ran in back of the Victorian.

  “Business is still good,” Tessa reminded her. “Even though it’s early January and the tourist season has slowed down. That means the community is embracing Daisy’s and the tea garden is an integral part of the area.”

  “I hope that’s what it means. The uptick in business could still be from the notoriety of the murder that happened here.”

  Daisy’s Tea Garden had been the scene of a murder in the fall, and there had been publicity from that with local TV coverage as well as discussions on online blogs.

  “Foster has really helped to spread the word about Daisy’s Tea Garden on social media too,” Tessa added. “You have to give him credit for that.”

  Foster Cranshaw was a college student Daisy had taken on when they’d gotten busier. He and Violet dated when she was home, and Daisy had mixed feelings about that. Yes, she wanted Violet involved in relationships so eventually she could find a permanent life partner. Daisy was sure marriage and vows would mean as much to her daughters as they had to her and Ryan. On the other hand, Violet was still young and she hoped her oldest and Foster weren’t too serious.

  “Foster has been a huge help,” Daisy agreed. “I don’t know what we’d do without him. He has a way with customers, and his tech skills are a godsend.”

  They were walking along the lane that led to the private parking lot when a shrieking alarm pierced the silence of the night.

  Tessa spun around toward the direction from which they’d come. “That sounds like it’s coming from Revelations.”

  The alarm was so loud and piercing that Daisy supposed it could have come from any of the businesses along their street. But she followed Tessa as she raced down the sidewalk. Daisy wasn’t going to abandon her friend now.

  As Tessa streaked past a candle shop, an insurance office, a store that sold hand-sewn purses and travel bags, as well as Woods, Daisy kept up with her pace. Elijah had come out of Woods and was staring down the street too.

  Tessa ran by him and so did Daisy, realizing now that Tessa had been right. It was the alarm from Revelations that had sounded. Running along the side of the building to the back entrance, Tessa didn’t hesitate to go inside when she saw the door was opened.

  Daisy called after her. “Tessa, wait! We don’t know what’s happened. It could be a fire . . . or anything.”

  But Tessa didn’t wait. And when Daisy ran inside and caught up with her, she saw Tessa holding up Reese, who leaned heavily on her. There was blood on his forehead and down the side of his face.

  Daisy pulled out her phone to call 9-1-1.

  Reese saw her do it and held up his hand. “You don’t need to call anyone. The alarm alerted the PD. They’ll be here.”

  Tessa led Reese to a wooden captain’s chair and he flopped into it.

  “What happened?” Daisy asked. Certainly, Reese didn’t do that to himself. Could someone still be in the gallery?

  “An intruder got in before I reset the alarm. He hit me and escaped. I managed to smack one of the panic buttons.”

  Reese had definitely been hurt by someone. Papers from the desk were strewn across the floor. But something about his story didn’t seem to ring true. How could anyone have known the alarm was off? Why hadn’t Reese reset the alarm after she and Tessa had left? Had a break-in really occurred?

  Or had something else happened that Reese didn’t want anyone to know about?

  Chapter Two

  Daisy had a logical mind, barring emotions getting in the way. After all, she was a mom. She ran a business. She used self-talk to convince herself that her mother didn’t like her sister best. Therefore, she had a pretty good women’s intuition meter when it came to separating a lie from the truth. Reese’s story didn’t make sense.

  Reese was a business owner and somewhat influential in Willow Creek. Daisy had attended Chamber of Commerce meetings where Reese had gotten things done.

  His story just didn’t ring true. Not only patrol officers arrived on the scene. No, the chief had sent Detective Rappaport to investigate whatever had happened. Morris Rappaport and Daisy had crossed paths before. He wasn’t especially fond of her or her aunt, though the three of them had made a type of peace at the conclusion of his last murder investigation. But tonight he looked as grumpy as usual and not at all happy to see Daisy. He’d questioned Reese and now he approached her and Tessa. He looked from one of them to the other as if he thought about separating them to question them.

  Daisy said amiably, “Detective Rappaport. It’s good to see you again.”

  “Is it?” he asked, running his hand through his thick blond-gray hair. “I was off duty when the chief called me in. This doesn’t seem worthy of my time.”

  Already Daisy could sense Tessa’s outrage. “Reese was hurt. What do you mean, it’s not worth your time? Someone could have killed him.”

  In his fifties, Rappaport had grooves along his mouth and deep lines on his face. He gave Tessa a steady look. “Tell me, Miss Miller, what you and Mrs. Swanson have to do with all of this.”

  “We told the patrol officers why we were here earlier and why we’re here now,” Tessa said, crossing her arms across her chest.

  Rappaport studied his notebook. “Indeed you did, something about bringing cinnamon scones to Mr. Masemer. It seems an odd reason to be here, don’t you think? Does Daisy’s Tea Garden now have delivery service?”

  In her dealings with Detective Rappaport in the past, she’d learned it didn’t do any good for them to antagonize him. She laid her hand on Tessa’s arm hoping to quiet her. “Tessa and Reese are dating,” she said calmly, looking Rappaport in the eye. “Tessa knows he likes my scones and she suspected I’d like to see the quilt display. She’d also forgotten her sketchbook here and wanted to retrieve that.”

  “Quilt display?” Rappaport’s eyebrows arched as he focused on that part of her explanation.

  “Reese is displaying antique quilts in preparation
for Quilt Lovers Weekend in three weeks. He felt it would help draw in business. The Baltimore Album quilt, especially, is very valuable.”

  “I know Amish quilts run up a good sum of money,” the detective said. “But just how valuable could a quilt be?”

  Tessa’s hackles were up again. She pointed toward the quilt stands in the other room. “One of those quilts in there is worth close to fourteen thousand dollars. That’s probably why an intruder broke in.”

  Rappaport looked to Daisy. “Is she right about that?”

  “Tessa knows more about it than I do. She helped Reese with the display. If you ask him, he can tell you what they’re worth. But, yes, a Baltimore Album quilt like the one he has displayed can be worth thousands of dollars.”

  “You grew up in Willow Creek, didn’t you?” Rappaport asked Daisy.

  Remembering what Jonas Groft had advised her last time she’d dealt with the Willow Creek Police Department, she answered with as little explanation as possible. “I did.”

  “So you’ve been around the quilts and Amish all your life.”

  “I have.”

  He looked a little perturbed at her short answers. They had been through this before when she’d had a lawyer advising her.

  Rappaport cut his gaze toward Tessa again. “So how long have you and Masemer been dating?”

  “What does that have to do with someone hitting him on the head?” Tessa asked tersely.

  “I’m asking the questions,” Rappaport reminded her imperiously.

  Daisy tried to communicate to Tessa without words that she’d be better off just answering the detective’s questions. She must have gotten through to her telepathically because Tessa said, “We got to know each other when he showed my work here in the fall. Afterward we began dating.”

  “A few months then,” Rappaport said, summing it up.

  “That’s right,” Tessa answered.

  “So let me get this straight. Kravitz over there told me you have a key to this place, that you unlocked the door, pressed in the security code to disarm the alarm, and then what? Give me a play-by-play.”

  Because they’d gone through this with the patrol officers, Tessa answered a little impatiently. “I put the scones on Reese’s desk, picked up my sketchbook, and then Daisy and I went to look at the quilts. While we were admiring them, we heard a noise. I didn’t expect Reese to be here because he said he was having a meeting with a client. It turns out his client cancelled and he was working upstairs. So when he heard us down here, he came down.”

  “And he found the two of you with the quilts?”

  Daisy found herself feeling a little huffy too. He made it sound as if they’d been doing something sinister.

  “We were admiring the workmanship on the quilts,” Daisy explained. “That’s when we heard Reese come down. But we didn’t know it was him.”

  “So what did you do?” Rappaport asked.

  “I picked up that sculpture over there in case there was an intruder,” Tessa said. “But then Reese stood in the doorway and we saw it was him. That was it. After he and I talked about dinner plans, Daisy and I left.”

  “But you came back,” Rappaport said almost accusingly.

  Now Daisy was getting impatient. “We came running back when we heard the alarm go off. We didn’t know what had happened.”

  “Why would you come running back here when a robbery could have been in progress?”

  “Don’t be so dense,” Tessa said. “I love . . .” She stopped. “I care about Reese. I didn’t know what might have happened. It could have been a fire. He could have hit a panic button by mistake—”

  “Panic button?”

  “It’s an art gallery, Detective. He brings in valuable work. There’s an alarm button in every room,” Daisy informed him.

  “I see. And you know this how?”

  “Because we’re friends,” Daisy said with some exasperation. “Tessa has shown her work here. I know Reese, not well, but I do know him. We’re business owners. We’re on the Quilt Lovers Weekend committee together. We go to the same Chamber of Commerce meetings. Willow Creek is a small town, Detective.”

  “Don’t I know it,” he mumbled. “Every day I’m here I’m reminded again how different it is from big-city life. That’s why this break-in is a little out of character. And to tell the truth, I’m having a little trouble with the whole scenario.”

  “What does that mean?” Tessa asked.

  “Mr. Masemer insists he didn’t recognize the intruder. If the intruder was close enough to do him harm, and if Mr. Masemer had enough time to push a panic button, I have to wonder—”

  “Detective!” the patrol officer suddenly called to him.

  Her gaze targeting where the patrol officer and Reese were standing, Daisy spotted Reese put his hand to his forehead. He looked incredibly pale and shaken, and suddenly he took an unsteady step forward and the patrol officer had to catch him and lower him to a chair.

  Tessa ran over to him. “Reese. What’s wrong?”

  “Just a little dizzy,” he said.

  Tessa had her phone in hand. “I’m calling the paramedics.”

  But Reese waved his hand at her. “No. I don’t want any more commotion.”

  “Then let me take you to the urgent care center,” Tessa said. She rounded on the detective. “You have to let him be taken care of. You can’t question him under these conditions. He’s not even fit to know what he’s saying.”

  Detective Rappaport was silent for a few moments, and then he nodded to the patrol officers. “I agree that you need to be treated,” he said to Reese. “But answer me one question, Mr. Masemer. Did the intruder touch anything that you’re aware of?”

  Reese took a bolstering breath. “He was headed toward the quilt stand when I came upon him, but I surprised him. So I don’t think he had a chance to touch anything. And now that I think about it, his hands glowed white in the dark like he was wearing gloves. He was also wearing a ski mask.”

  The detective studied Reese for a long moment. “Well then,” he said, “I don’t suppose fingerprint dust is going to do us much good. And even if we tried to get prints, I imagine you have enough of a crowd coming through here from week to week to make elimination of prints almost impossible. Tell me again where he hit you.”

  Reese looked down for a moment, then back up at the detective. “In my office. I startled him. He ran. I ran after him, and he turned around and slugged me.”

  “And why did you run after him?”

  “I wasn’t sure if he’d stolen anything or not.”

  “Did you run after him before or after you hit the panic button?”

  Reese didn’t miss a beat. “Before. After he hit me, I stumbled back and fell. That’s when he ran out. That’s when I hit the panic button.”

  “I’m going to get my car,” Tessa decided, cutting off the questioning. “Reese, don’t move. I’ll be back in five minutes. Detective, I thought you were going to wait to question him further.”

  “Yes, I was, wasn’t I? I’ll give you a call tomorrow, Mr. Masemer, to see how you’re feeling. And we can set up a time for you to come to the station. We’ll go over your story again there and get a full report. And then you can sign your statement.”

  Daisy had the feeling that Detective Morris Rappaport would be going over Reese’s story more than one more time. He obviously didn’t think Reese was telling the truth.

  * * *

  The chatter at Daisy’s Tea Garden the next morning was thicker, faster, and more vigorous than usual, not only among Daisy’s customers but amidst her staff, too. In a small town, the gossip mill could be faster than cell phone service, and Willow Creek was no exception. Her aunt Iris, her ash-brown short curls bouncing, had come up to her more than once during the morning, leaned close, and exclaimed, “I can’t believe you found Reese Masemer after the break-in.”

  Daisy sighed inwardly and tried to keep her mind on what she was doing—putting together an order for a doze
n cinnamon scones for a customer having tea at one of the tables. She glanced across the room to see if her customer was still involved in sipping her Darjeeling tea. She was.

  Usually Daisy loved the tea room atmosphere. She and her aunt had decided not to make the tea room fussy, though they did have a subtle flower theme. They wanted both men and women to feel comfortable here. They wanted both casual tourists and professionals from town and Lancaster stopping in. So when Daisy had decorated the front Green Room with glass-topped tables and mismatched antique oak hand-carved chairs, she felt everyone would be comfortable there. A yellow bud vase adorned each table. After the holidays, she’d decorated each with dried lavender and rosemary tied by a yellow ribbon.

  Aunt Iris didn’t wait for Daisy to respond, but rather she said, “I have to check on that group that came on the bus from Harrisburg. They had the big table for six.”

  Her aunt nodded toward the spillover room where they took reservations for and served afternoon tea on specified days. That room reflected the best qualities of the Victorian with a bay window, window seats, crown molding, and diamond-cut glass. There the room was the palest yellow. White tables and chairs always looked fresh and wore seat cushions in blue, yellow, and green pinstripes.

  At that moment, Tessa came from the kitchen to stand with Daisy at the counter as her aunt bustled away. She checked the case. “The cinnamon scones are selling out. I have another batch in the oven, but we might need four or five more batches today.”

  Tessa was age thirty-seven like Daisy. Today she wore her medium-brown hair braided. Her colorful, flowy tops and skirts weren’t hidden by an apron as Daisy and Aunt Iris’s were, but rather she wore smocks. Her smock today was swirls of brilliant turquoise, fuchsia, and gold. However, her eyes had blue circles under them. The creases around her mouth seemed deeper and she wasn’t wearing her usual brilliant smile.

  The front door to the tea room opened, letting in frosty January wind along with Russ Windom, one of their regular customers. He was a retired schoolteacher who came in almost every morning for one of their baked goods and a cup of tea. He was a widower with time on his hands, and he enjoyed chatting with other customers as well as Daisy and her staff. He unzipped his brown corduroy parka as he came to the counter and smiled at them. His gray hair had been ruffled by the wind, and he fingered through it trying to put it in order. He had a high forehead, bushy white brows, and titanium black-framed glasses that made him look like the schoolteacher he’d once been.