Murder with Lemon Tea Cakes Page 8

  “You can stay at Nicole’s. I’ll pick you up around five, okay?”

  “Sounds good,” Jazzi answered, then added, “I love you, Mom.”

  “I love you too, honey.”

  With everything that had happened, Daisy hadn’t yet tried to find the lawyer who’d handled Jazzi’s adoption. Or was that just an excuse because she was stalling? Maybe she merely didn’t want to contemplate what would happen if Jazzi found her birth parents. She’d promised her daughter she would help, so she had to put it on the top of her priority list.

  But first, she wanted to make sure her aunt wasn’t in deep water with the police by beginning an investigation of her own. She had texted the detective the photo of the unicorn yesterday but had heard nothing in return.

  Cora Sue was making certain the serving rooms were spic and span. Daisy gave her a nod of approval and went to the kitchen. “Do either of you mind if I scoot out for about an hour?” Daisy asked her aunt and Tessa.

  Iris waved at the dough she’d already mixed up. “I have this ready to refrigerate. I’ll start on another batch. Tessa’s watching the soup. Go ahead and run your errand. Where are you going?”

  “My dad’s birthday’s coming up, and I need a new tie for him, an expensive one.”

  Iris narrowed her eyes. “You’re going to Men’s Trends, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, I am. Employees talk. They often hear things they shouldn’t. I think we need background on Harvey that you don’t know. Knowledge is power, right? And it’s better than just standing around doing nothing while the police could be building a case against you. We need to be prepared, and a few answers could prepare us.”

  Aunt Iris looked worried. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. But if you feel you have to . . .”

  “I do.” She gave her aunt a hug. “It will be fine. I’m just going to talk to Harvey’s manager and some of the employees while I buy a tie.”

  Before Iris could convince her not to go, she took off her apron, grabbed her purse from her office, and left.

  Men’s Trends was a three-block walk from Daisy’s Tea Garden. Daisy walked when she could because she didn’t have much time for other exercise. Today the air was musky with fall, downed leaves, and the coming of the next season. She was looking forward to Thanksgiving, when Violet would be home. She knew it really wasn’t that far away; it just seemed to be so. Harvey’s murder and Iris’s sadness had seemed to make her miss her daughter even more. And then there was Jazzi and what she wanted to do. What if she found her birth parents?

  Walking was good for thinking too. She wasn’t exactly sure how to help Jazzi, and she was thinking through options as she passed a candle shop, an insurance office, a store that sold hand-made purses and travel bags and Woods. But she wasn’t ready to share those options with Jazzi yet.

  After another two blocks she arrived at Men’s Trends. The clothing store might have been established a few decades ago, but there was nothing out of date about it. From setting up the tea and dessert display there, Daisy knew the security system was topnotch, unlike at her tea shop. When the door opened at Men’s Trends, no buzzer or bell sounded, not in the store area. But a red light went on when the security monitors detected motion, and a buzzer sounded in the back room.

  A clerk approached her right away. She looked to be near Daisy’s age, was dressed in a two-piece dress in a rust color, and wore a name tag that read CAROLINE. Her dark brown hair was expertly cut in a pageboy, and she looked professional.

  She smiled broadly. “You’re Daisy Swanson, right?”

  “I am.”

  “I was really impressed with the tea and dessert celebration you brought to the store, as well as the one at the tea garden. Many of us employees suggested to Mr. Fitz that we put in a permanent tea bar for our customers. They often stand around waiting for measurements and alterations while a mate or boyfriend makes a selection. Mr. Fitz was thinking about it.” Caroline looked sad at the thought.

  Daisy said, “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  Caroline’s eyes glistened a bit. “We’re all still in shock.”

  “I imagine you are. Is Bennett running the store now?”

  Caroline pointed to the east end of the store, where the men’s off-the-rack suits were located. Bennett Topper stood there talking with a customer. Bennett reminded Daisy in a lot of ways of a tall, slender, pointed-nose English butler.

  “Yes, Bennett has stepped in. I think he’s overwhelmed with it all. Not so much the store, but Mr. Fitz’s murder.”

  “How long has Bennett been with Mr. Fitz?” Daisy inquired.

  “He’s been here over fifteen years,” Caroline said. “At least that’s what I’ve heard.”

  Daisy would like to talk to Bennett, but he was obviously tied up at the moment.

  Caroline lowered her voice. “Bennett received a call from Mr. Fitz’s lawyer. He’s going to run the store until decisions are made about it.”

  Since Caroline was chatty, Daisy took advantage of that. “Tell me something, Caroline. Did Mr. Fitz’s employees like him?”

  “Well enough,” she admitted. “He was tough but fair. He just fired a saleswoman last week, and she made a scene before she left.”

  “If he was fair, he must have had good reason,” Daisy concluded. “Do you know what that was?”

  Moving a little closer to Daisy, Caroline lowered her voice even further. “Mallory Yoder liked to flirt, especially with the rich men. One of the customers’ wives had complained, and Mr. Fitz didn’t hesitate to give Mallory her walking papers. I heard that she said she was going to bad-mouth the store all over town.”

  Someone else who held a grudge. The list was growing.

  “Do you think you could give me Mallory’s contact information?”

  At that point, Caroline looked puzzled. “Why would you want that?”

  “I’ll be honest with you,” Daisy said. “The police consider my aunt a suspect.”

  “Iris Albright? You’re kidding, right? She was so in love with Mr. Fitz. Anybody could see it when they saw them together. Why would she ever want to hurt him?”

  “Exactly. My aunt is loyal and honest to a fault.”

  “How does Mallory play into it?” Caroline asked.

  “Well, if the police are focusing only on Aunt Iris, they’re not looking at other suspects. I want to find another viable suspect so they’ll take their focus off of my aunt.”

  “Just like on those TV shows.”

  “Exactly.”

  “I really shouldn’t hand out an employee’s information,” Caroline debated. “But the murder of a man I respected is involved.”

  Caroline went to one of the cashiers’ desks, took a coupon card from beside the register, and turned it around to the back. “You can use the coupon on the front, but the info is on the back.” She wrote it out and then handed it to Daisy.

  “Don’t expect her to welcome you with open arms. She’s mad, and I’m not sure what she’s mad about—losing her job or losing her connection with the customer she hooked up with.”

  “Maybe they were in love.”

  Caroline huffed. “In love? He’s older and married, whether he wears a wedding ring or not. He has money. She has none. She scrapes by and borrows money from friends. So if anything, this thing with the customer is pure lust. He is hot . . . for an older guy.”

  “Does the store have a policy about employees fraternizing with customers?”

  “It does. No hanky-panky between employees and customers, or between employee and employee. It just muddles up store workings. If the sparks are two-way, the fireworks are awkward for everyone else working in the store. And if one person is enamored with the other and the other isn’t interested, it’s basically a fatal attraction, and that can lead to some pretty nasty scenes. So no collusion here, no canoodling, no anything.”

  “I think talking to Mallory could help me understand the dynamics here.”

  “You mean between all the people wh
o work here?”

  “And their attitudes toward Mr. Fitz.”

  “You could possibly be right.”

  “Thank you for her contact info,” Daisy said in a low voice.

  “If you need anything else to help your aunt,” Caroline said, “just let me know.”

  In the next few moments, as Caroline helped Daisy choose a blue tie for her dad, Daisy realized she’d made an ally. She needed more of those to learn answers to her questions. Maybe Mallory Yoder could be an ally too . . . or a murder suspect. If Daisy called her, the sales clerk could hang up. But if Daisy paid her a visit . . .

  * * *

  Daisy drove down the Pike following her GPS’s directions. The Old Philadelphia Pike, now Route 340, once called the King’s Highway, had been the first “planned” road between Lancaster and Philadelphia. That’s when inns were built every few miles as safe rest stops for people who were traveling. Signs in front of each inn identified them with painted pictures. The signs could be read by all—English-, German-, or Dutch-speaking. The other reason? Many of the travelers were poorly educated and could not read. Anyone could recognize the paintings on a sideboard and know where they were going.

  Signs that hung along the Old Philadelphia Pike took many forms—a ship, a wagon, a plow, a buck, a white horse, a black horse, a hat. Although a lot had changed since Conestoga wagon times, much remained the same. Anyone coming to the town could expect friendly shopkeepers, homegrown Lancaster County foods, and restful lodging. All of that was what was important.

  Sometimes Daisy’s GPS took her in roundabout ways. Today it seemed to be on a straight course until the female voice directed her to make a right turn. For almost a quarter of a mile, Daisy’s car rumbled down a road that led to a farm. The house was rustic as farmhouses went, with a big porch accented with white supports and tan siding.

  Daisy parked on a gravel patch near the house, then took the paver path to the front door. As she climbed the six steps, she noticed the door opening.

  “May I help you?” The girl was younger than Caroline, possibly her early twenties. She had the bluest eyes, a piquant face with a delicate chin, long eyelashes that would bat very well, and luxurious chestnut-brown hair.

  “Are you Mallory Yoder?” Daisy asked.

  “Yes, I am. Why do you want to know?”

  “I’m Daisy Swanson.”

  “From the tea garden,” Mallory remembered.

  “Yes. I’d like to ask you a few questions about Harvey Fitz.”

  Fear stole into Mallory’s eyes. “The police already talked to me about Harvey. They talked to all the employees.”

  “But you weren’t an employee when he died, were you?”

  “Who told you that?”

  “Does it matter?”

  Mallory pulled on a wave of hair along her face. “No, I suppose it doesn’t. I lost my job there. Now I have to muck out stalls here and clean the house to get me through. I have to do something to pay my way until I find another job.”

  “You live here?”

  “I rent a room from the family. It’s not like it’s a B&B or anything; it’s just me. We connected on one of those Internet sites. They needed the money from renting the room, and I needed a place to stay that was cheap.”

  “Is Willow Creek your home?”

  “It’s my home, but no family live here anymore. I wanted to come back here because I was happy here when I was a kid. I thought I still had friends here. Most of them have moved on too, so I’m kind of stuck. I needed that job at Men’s Trends.”

  “Then you should have followed the rules.” Daisy couldn’t help when her motherly advice fell out.

  Looking defensive, Mallory said, “One of his customers flirted with me. I liked him. We went out for drinks one night. But Mr. Fitz just thought I was playing around and wanted to catch a rich husband.”

  “Could that be part of it?”

  “Maybe. Robert was fifteen years older than me, but I liked him. I’m looking for love, just like anybody else. Mr. Fitz was paranoid about that kind of thing because his wife married him for money.”

  Was that true? Daisy wondered. “What are you going to do now?”

  “I don’t know. Flirting with Robert was exciting. I miss that.”

  Daisy wanted to roll her eyes and say a prayer. Heaven forbid her daughters should think like that.

  “But what happens after the excitement’s gone, Mallory, especially if the man’s married. You’ve broken up a marriage, and you walk away broken-hearted.”

  “He could have ended up with me.”

  Daisy had to give her cold, hard facts. “That rarely happens, and if it happens, he won’t stay. Once a cheater, always a cheater.”

  “You act as if you know.”

  “No, I don’t know, but I have friends who know.”

  “I have to look for another job,” Mallory said, biting a nail.

  “Then look for one where you can do something you’re good at. Look for one where you can get ahead. Then when you meet a guy, you’ll have something to give him besides a good time, and he’ll respect you for it.”

  “You’re telling me respect is better than money?” Mallory asked with a little laugh.

  “Believe me, respect is way better than money. The money comes and goes, but the respect will stay. So will love and trust, if you’re lucky enough to find them.”

  “Do you have that?”

  “I had that once. I’m a widow now. My husband and I had rough times, but we got through them together. Don’t you think your own parents would tell you that?”

  “They’re divorced.”

  Unfortunately, that was modern life.

  Daisy didn’t believe Mallory was a murderess. She doubted she had it in her. Although she might have been angry at Harvey for firing her, she seemed to know deep down that he’d done the right thing.

  “Do you know anybody who would have wanted to hurt Mr. Fitz?”

  Mallory thought about it. “No, not really. But if I think of anybody, I’ll let you know. I can always find you at the tea garden, right?”

  “Right. And I’d better get back. Take care of yourself, Mallory.”

  When Mallory waved good-bye, Daisy wondered if any of her advice would sink in.

  Chapter Seven

  Later that afternoon, Daisy was at the counter in the tea garden planning the arrangement of the baked goods for the following day when she heard a rap, rap, rap on the front door. She spotted Cade smiling at her through the glass. She crossed to the door and unlocked it.

  He said, “I know you’re not open for business, but I wanted to see how you are. The police have left you in peace?”

  “They’ve let us back in, but it might be a while until we feel peaceful again.” She nodded toward the kitchen. “Especially Aunt Iris.”

  Coming into the main serving room with her, Cade flipped out a chair with his foot and pointed to a seat across the table. That meant he wanted to talk.

  She called in to her aunt, “I’ll just be a few minutes.”

  “Take your time, honey. I’ll get started on the chocolate chip cookie dough.”

  Seating herself across from Cade, Daisy took a deep breath. It was good to chill for a minute or two.

  His dark brown eyes gentled as he seemed to see that. He said, “I saw the truck for the cleaning service was here yesterday. How did that go?”

  “It went all right. Thank goodness there’s a service like that. Fingerprint powder is terrible to clean up. They have special materials to do it, and they left some of the cleaner in case we need it. Some things couldn’t be cleaned—like the flagstone blocks that were stained. The landscaping service is coming Monday morning to replace those.”

  Cade reached out his hand and covered hers with his. “So how are you holding up?”

  She liked the warmth of his hand on hers. She’d missed that kind of touching. “I’m okay. I’m keeping busy. Once we open tomorrow, I won’t have time to think about much else. But
earlier, I did walk down to Men’s Trends. Bennett Topper is managing it, and he’s taking over until the estate decides what to do with it.”

  “Why did you go down there?”

  “Because Aunt Iris is a prime suspect, and I don’t want her to remain one.”

  Cade scowled. “It’s not a good idea for you to get involved in it or ask too many questions. Leave the investigation to the police.”

  Cade’s words reminded Daisy of past experiences. Her mother always said she had a china doll face . . . meaning she could use her prettiness to get what she wanted. She’d never done that. She had brains behind that face, and she wanted to be respected for them. She could feel her temper flare. She pulled her hand away from his.

  “If I want to ask questions, I will. If I want to find another suspect for the police other than my Aunt Iris, I’ll do that too. We’ve engaged a lawyer for her, but that might not be enough, not if the police target her. I’m not going to let that happen.”

  Cade frowned. “Look, Daisy, the killer is still around. If you ask questions of the wrong person, you could be in danger.”

  “I can take care of myself,” she said indignantly. “I’ve taken those women-be-safe courses. I know about poking a guy in the eye with your key, kneeing him where it hurts, slashing at knees for self-defense. I haven’t been a hothouse flower.”

  “Do you have a gun?” Cade asked, maybe intending to shock sense into her.

  “Of course not! I’d be more likely to hurt myself or someone else if I did, even if I knew how to use it.”

  “Do you have a can of pepper spray?”

  Daisy shook her head. “No, I didn’t think I needed one in Willow Creek.”

  “You should think again, especially if you’re going to be in the middle of this.”

  “I didn’t say I was,” she insisted stubbornly.

  Blowing out a frustrated breath, Cade pushed his chair from the table and stood. “I can see you’re not in the mood to talk about this rationally. Maybe after a few days, you’ll see the wisdom behind my advice. I don’t want anything to happen to you, Daisy.”

  She saw his concern, but she also saw the fact that he didn’t think she could make a difference in an investigation like this. He was dismissing her because she was a woman, or because she steeped tea and baked for a living . . . or just because.