Murder with Darjeeling Tea, page 10
Stones and gravel scattered on the rural road as Jazzi pedaled up beside her. With no traffic, they often rode side by side so they could talk.
Without preamble, her daughter said, “We haven’t talked about Portia’s offer.”
Daisy looked over at Jazzi on her blue and purple bike with her fuchsia helmet. “No, we haven’t. I was giving you time to think about it.”
“I’ve been thinking about it. I’ve been thinking about how you would feel if they helped me.”
“Oh, Jazzi, that shouldn’t be part of your consideration.”
“It’s not. I want you to be honest with me. Would you mind?” Jazzi asked.
Being as honest as she could, Daisy tried to express her feelings. “Ever since you found Portia, I knew I had to open up my heart and let you bring her into it. Do you know what I mean?”
“I guess. You mean like there were barriers to you doing it yourself, so you kind of let her in through me.”
“Exactly. I think we both know that Portia wants what’s best for you, and now Colton does, too.”
“I guess what bothers me some,” Jazzi confessed, “is that I don’t want to feel beholden to Portia and Colton. I don’t want to feel like I owe them something.”
“All you owe them will be gratitude. Your feelings are on you, Jazzi. And the truth is, I don’t think they’ll make you feel beholden. I’m fairly certain Portia won’t.”
“You mean because she feels guilty for abandoning me.”
Jazzi’s perception sometimes surprised Daisy. Yet it shouldn’t. “If you want to put it that way. Is that the way you think about it? Because you could think about it in a different way. Portia wanted to give you a better life because she couldn’t take care of you.”
After pedaling a bit, Jazzi sighed. “That’s what I tell myself. But that speck of doubt is always there. Let me ask you something, Mom. Would you have given me up? You were young when you had Vi. Would you have even thought about it?”
Immediately, Daisy wanted to dismiss that train of thought. “That’s not fair, Jazzi. That’s not fair to Portia. I had married your dad. We were in love, and we wanted to build a life and a family. You can’t compare me to Portia.”
“You didn’t answer, but I understand if you don’t want to. I think I know the answer. You wouldn’t have.”
“Jazzi, please don’t weigh my life against Portia’s. You have to think about Portia as she is now. She’s a loving woman and a loving mother. She thinks you’re the jelly on her peanut butter.”
Jazzi laughed, and that’s exactly what Daisy had intended.
“So you think I should accept what Colton and Portia are offering?”
Daisy sank back on her bike seat, glancing over at her daughter. “I think you should do what feels right to you. It would take a burden off of you. You wanted to get a job while you were at school, but if you accept Portia’s help, you don’t have to. On the other hand, if at any time you feel you don’t want to accept Portia’s and Colton’s contribution, you can stop it. Life’s made up of lots of little decisions.”
“And I shouldn’t turn it into a giant one?”
“Not if you don’t have to.”
They rode in silence a few minutes. “I’m still working on my essay to go along with my applications,” Jazzi said. “Sometimes I find it hard to talk about being adopted. Maybe putting the words down on paper makes it not so matter-of-fact. Do you know what I mean?”
“I do know what you mean. Do you want any help?”
“No, I want to do it on my own. I’ll let you read it, and maybe Jonas, too. You can tell me if I’ve said everything I’ve really wanted to say.”
“I’m proud of you, you know.”
Jazzi just smiled and pedaled up ahead of Daisy, her youthful energy apparent as she prepared for many new chapters in her life.
It wasn’t long before they began approaching Wilhelm Rumple’s property. Jazzi slowed her pedaling, and so did Daisy. To Daisy’s surprise, there was a patrol car sitting there, though the crime scene tape had been removed. Daisy had read on the Willow Creek Messenger’s page that Rumple’s funeral was tomorrow.
As she and Jazzi pedaled slowly past the property, Daisy could see Bart standing just inside the open gate. He was looking down at the ground. She wondered what he was looking for.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Daisy readied herself for bed that night, thinking about everything she and Jazzi had talked about. She looked around her room with its heavy pine furniture ... its sunshine and shadow quilt on the bed. She loved the queen-sized sleigh bed. The furniture was all antiques. The bathroom upstairs had a double sink, but her en suite had only one. She looked at her shower which was nice enough. Two people could fit into it if they wanted to. But the bathroom was small. She’d designed it that way so she could have a small powder room near the utility room for anyone who came to visit. They wouldn’t have to trek through her bedroom.
And the reason she was thinking about all this now?
Jonas. Would he be comfortable here? Could they make a life here together?
Daisy thought about that as she washed her face, brushed her teeth, and donned her nightgown. She was ready to put lotion on her hands when her phone played its tuba sound. Picking it up, she saw Jonas’s face on her screen, and she smiled.
“It’s getting late,” she said.
“I know, at least for us early risers it is,” he agreed, a smile in his voice. “How was your bike ride with Jazzi?”
Daisy sank down onto her bed and plumped a pillow against her headboard. “It was good. I think she’s going to take Portia’s help.”
“How do you feel about that?”
“I don’t know. We’ll see. This had to be Jazzi’s decision. I’ll be okay with it. I’ll get used to it. Someone else is helping my daughter. That’s a good thing, right?” Jonas’s thoughts were important to her as they fit their lives together.
“It’s a good thing, if you think about it that way.”
Unsettled by the thought of Jazzi leaving for college next year, she wanted to change the course of the conversation. “We rode past Rumple’s place.”
“You did? Nothing going on there, I guess.”
“Actually, there was. The crime scene tape was down, but there was a patrol car there. I saw Bart just inside the gate looking around.”
“Maybe he was just going over the security system and where the motion detectors were.”
“I suppose that’s so. I really thought they’d be done with it.”
“They might have gone back in for a second look ... maybe an unofficial look.”
Jonas’s police experience often led him to see events in a different light.
Suddenly, Daisy’s phone beeped that she had another call. She said, “Jonas, I’m sorry. I’m getting another call. It’s Serena.”
“Maybe you’d better take it. I just wanted to say good night and tell you that you’re on my mind.”
“You were on my mind, too. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
Daisy quickly answered Serena’s call. “Serena, hi. I was on another call.”
“I hope I didn’t interrupt.”
“It’s okay. I was talking to Jonas. It was just a good-night call.”
Serena was quiet for a few moments. “I hope someday I’ll have a relationship where a good-night call is important.”
When Daisy didn’t respond right away, Serena jumped in again. “Daisy, I have a favor to ask.” Daisy’s head spun with all the possible favors it could be. Maybe volunteering at Four Paws? She listened.
“Did you know Wilhelm Rumple’s funeral is tomorrow?” Serena inquired.
“Yes, I know that. I saw it on the Willow Creek Messenger’ s website.”
“I need someone to go with me. Noah can’t. He has surgeries tomorrow. But I don’t want to go alone. I feel someone from the shelter should go, and no one else seems to want to.”
This definitely wasn’t a request that Daisy had expected. She asked, “It’s at ten a.m., right?”
“Yes, and it’s in York. So we wouldn’t waste too much time traveling. I just feel that someone needs to represent the shelter. But I don’t feel comfortable going on my own, and I know I can’t take Bellamy.”
That made Daisy smile. Would Serena really consider taking her pet along? Maybe Bellamy was a therapy dog and not just a companion. Daisy hadn’t thought about that before, but it made sense.
Serena sounded worried again when she asked, “Will you go with me?”
There was a tea service planned for tomorrow in the spillover tearoom. Customers had made reservations. There would be a lot of prep involved for all her staff. Her staff would have handled some of it today, but they always scurried around the morning before the tea, accomplishing everything to make it a rewarding experience. Still, she could call one of her other servers who liked to pick up more hours. She wasn’t full-time, but she often told Daisy to give her a call if she needed someone else in a pinch.
Making a decision, Daisy assured Serena, “I can shift around my staff a little. I really should be back by two, though, as we have an afternoon tea service.”
Serena sounded relieved when she said, “Since the funeral’s at ten, we should easily be home by one.”
“All right, Serena. I’ll go with you. Do you want to meet me at the tea garden?”
“That sounds good. Thank you, Daisy. I really appreciate this.”
After Daisy said good night to Serena and ended the call, she texted Jonas and told him what she’d be doing tomorrow.
* * *
The church in West York was old and stark. Inside the double black doors, Daisy sat next to Serena in a pew near the back of the church. Tan walls surrounded them, along with small windows without stained glass. There was a dark wood altar with a cross hanging high above it. Light poured in from a round window at the point of the roof over the cross.
Daisy shivered as she watched anyone who’d come to pay their respects to Wilhelm Rumple cross in front of the pews where the closed wood casket stood. They spoke a few words to the man who was seated on a folding chair to the right of the casket.
Serena leaned closer to Daisy, her light floral perfume a nice contrast to the dank atmosphere of the church. “The graveyard is around back,” she said. “I don’t think anyone’s going to eulogize Wilhelm in here.”
“I haven’t seen anyone else from Willow Creek, have you?” Daisy asked.
She’d been on the lookout, maybe even for one of the detectives. They were good at fading into the crowd just to keep an eye on anything that happened. From Daisy’s experience in other murder investigations, she knew they believed the murderer sometimes couldn’t stay away. The detectives had been right before. But today, this sparse crowd simply seemed eager to have the service over with.
Serena whispered again, “The nephew’s name is Dustan. I can’t imagine that his father, Wilhelm Rumple’s brother, wouldn’t be here. But he’d be seated up there with Dustan if he was, don’t you think?”
“Probably. But there’s no knowing what goes on in families.”
Daisy was hoping she could find out, though, merely by talking to other people who were here. Serena had told her that after the graveside service, there would be a gathering in the social hall. Wilhelm’s nephew must have some regard for him if he was willing to put all this together.
After the allotted time for everyone to pay their respects, a minister came to the podium. He said that the pallbearers would take the casket out to the cemetery, and everyone else should leave their pews in orderly fashion and follow. He stopped to talk to Dustan, and after a few nods, they separated.
Watching him, Daisy saw Dustan leave the church through the side door. There was a small house near the church where the minister lived. Daisy wondered if he was going there, maybe to compose himself before heading for the graveside service.
Daisy had dressed in a slim black suit with a substantial fitted jacket. She hadn’t wanted to bring a coat. She’d worn black flats, not knowing what kind of ground they would be covering in the cemetery. Serena had dressed similarly in a navy dress with a jacket. She’d even worn a small navy pillbox hat. Daisy wished she could wear such a hat with that kind of aplomb.
At the tail end of the line of mourners, they exited the church by a side entrance and walked along the cement pavement to the cemetery behind the church. Cast-iron fence surrounded it. A green canopy had been set up over the particular plot of land that was designated for Rumple’s grave.
Daisy suddenly heard a dog bark behind her. When she turned, she spotted Hans, Rumple’s Plott hound! Dustan was leading him on a leash. Hans, maybe remembering Daisy, guided Dustan toward her. Before Dustan could guess what he was going to do, Hans sidled up to Daisy and rubbed his head against her leg.
Dustan hurried to apologize. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what he’s up to.”
While Serena kept her distance, Daisy turned to Dustan and extended her hand. “Hello. I’m Daisy Swanson.”
Dustan raised questioning eyes to hers. “Do you know Hans?”
“I met him at your uncle’s. He liked sniffing my jeans because I think he smelled my cats and my boyfriend’s dog. It’s a little unusual to see a dog at a graveside service.”
Dustan looked embarrassed. He was about five-nine, fortyish, with a bookish look. His dark brown hair wasn’t particularly styled, and he wore tortoiseshell glasses. He was wearing a suit, but his brown tie was crooked, and the collar on his off-white shirt a bit mussed. “It is unusual, I suppose,” he admitted. “Hans is usually pretty mellow. He’s been having separation anxiety. He and my uncle always went everywhere together if they could. He hasn’t wanted to leave my side since I brought him home.”
“Were you and your uncle close?”
Dustan didn’t hesitate to shake his head. “Not particularly. The only thing we had in common was our love for dogs. I have two others, a lab and a mixed breed. Hans is making friends with them, but he still wants to stick with me. I’m hoping he’ll become more secure the longer he’s with me.”
“Is he a good guard dog?” Daisy asked nonchalantly.
“From what I can tell, he does perimeter checks. But he’s not at all aggressive.”
“I know someone tried to break into your uncle’s house while ... while he was living there. Do you have any idea why someone would want to break in?”
Dustan looked away as if he were hiding something. Then he met Daisy’s gaze. “I do know my uncle kept expensive statues in a safe inside. I suppose it’s possible an intruder wouldn’t think all of them would be in the safe. But I don’t know.”
If Dustan knew about those statues, did he know about anything else?
Daisy noticed that Serena had pretended not to be listening. On the other hand, however, she must have overheard some of the conversation. Was she truly not interested?
* * *
The church social hall was a separate building, more modern than the church in some ways, but not in others. It was cement block with high windows, cafeteria-style tables, and a cafeteria line. It was a square box, really, with an institutional flavor. Daisy felt awkward and, from Serena’s body language, she imagined Serena felt the same. After all, they didn’t know anyone, and they were in strange territory. Dustan hadn’t come inside with Hans, and she wondered if the nephew would make an appearance later without the dog. Certainly, he knew the people who had joined together to celebrate or mourn his uncle’s passing.
Daisy and Serena passed through the food line, choosing from ham and cheese or chicken salad sandwiches, potato chips, and cups of punch. Afterward, they found a table with three other people sitting there. One was a woman who looked to be in her fifties with gray hair, wearing a black dress with blue flowers. The two men were wearing brown suits and looked like brothers. They could have been in their late fifties or maybe a little older. Daisy wasn’t sure.
Daisy and Serena introduced themselves.
One of the men who was wearing a tan-and-white-striped tie introduced himself as Rex Clauson. He pointed to the man next to him and said, “This is my brother, Corbin. We’re twins, if you hadn’t guessed.”
Daisy, not one to be shy in situations like this, though she did try to be tactful, asked, “Did you know Mr. Rumple well?”
The twins exchanged glances. “Let’s just say we knew him years ago,” Rex said. “We took some master’s degree courses together in business administration. How did you know him?” he asked the women.
Serena explained that she managed Four Paws Animal Shelter and that Wilhelm was a volunteer there.
“Yep, he liked dogs back then, too. I think he had a rottweiler. Small apartment and big dog. He cared more about that dog than anybody else,” Rex concluded.
“My boyfriend works at Four Paws,” Daisy explained, “and I got to know Mr. Rumple through his business.”
“Oh, yeah, that concrete statue business he started. That was a surprise.”
“Why do you say that?” Daisy asked.
“I don’t think of Wilhelm as a particularly good salesperson. Though he did have a head for numbers.”
The woman, who might’ve been in her late fifties, joined the conversation. She put down the sandwich she was holding. “I’m Doris Jackson. I taught Mr. Rumple in high school.”
Daisy’s eyes widened, and the woman laughed. “Yes, we don’t think of adults as ever going to school. Wilhelm was smart. Too smart for his own good sometimes. He was bitter, even as a teenager.”
“Did you ever find out why?” Daisy asked, fingering a potato chip.
“His brother Herman was a year ahead of him, and a very different type of boy,” Doris revealed. “Sometimes I thought Wilhelm was just jealous of his brother. He didn’t particularly attract the girls. His brother did. More than once I heard Wilhelm mumble that he never thought he’d marry. So I presumed he never thought he’d have a family. He definitely lacked confidence.” Thinking about the past, the retired teacher went on, “He did like dogs, though. He volunteered at an animal shelter even back then to get in his service hours. But they became more than service hours. Wilhelm made connections with those dogs. Somehow, he and the canines communicated on the level that Wilhelm couldn’t reach with humans. At least that’s the impression I got. Believe me, I’d never be talking like this if he was still alive. He was a student, and we keep their confidences.”
