“Clotted cream had been spread over her.”
“Over what part of her?”
“Over her chest, but mostly over a pin she was wearing. I’d seen her wear it before.”
“What kind of pin was it?”
“It was amethyst surrounded by diamonds. It was gorgeous.”
“Did she ever tell you where she got it?”
“When I admired it, I assumed her new husband bought it for her. But she told me he hadn’t. She told me it had been a gift.”
“From whom?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know if she wouldn’t say or we just went on to new conversation.”
“You’re doing really well, Daisy. Did you notice anything else near her body?”
“There was a towel there.”
“What kind of towel?”
“A hand towel from the kitchen with a rooster embroidered on it.”
“When you say it was there . . . where was there?”
“It was sort of lying over the bowl of clotted cream on the counter. My guess is whoever dumped it on Margaret used the towel to wipe his or her fingerprints from the bowl.”
“You’re very good at this, Daisy. Is there anything else you can remember about the scene?”
“The back door was open.”
“Had it been open any time before you were serving?”
“ No.”
Jonas laid his hand on Daisy’s and she opened her eyes.
Leaning toward her, Jonas had a pleased expression on his face. “I think you resurrected a few details that will help Zeke.”
She hoped so.
* * *
Daisy hadn’t expected to be working at the tea garden today. But Iris had wanted some time with Vi and Sammy. Saturday could be busy, so Daisy had come in. She’d been a bit shaken up last night after she and Jonas had performed their little exercise. He’d encouraged her to call Zeke right then and there and she had, telling him what she’d remembered. It wasn’t a lot, but it had been something.
Cooking was always soothing to Daisy. Between the aromas of the beef lentil soup, apple gingerbread, and snickerdoodles, she was almost able to forget the scene she’d recalled last night. Almost.
It was midmorning when Cora Sue came rushing into the kitchen, saying a customer wanted to see Daisy.
“Who is it?”
“He says his name is Rowan Vaughn.”
Daisy motioned to the snickerdoodles on cooling racks. “They should be ready for the case in about five minutes.”
Cora Sue nodded. “I’ll take care of them.”
“I won’t be long,” she told Tessa and Eva.
“That’s not what I’m concerned about,” Tessa murmured.
Tessa Miller, her kitchen manager and best friend, knew how Daisy had become involved in murder cases before this one.
As Daisy went to the tearoom, she recognized Rowan Vaughn, who was standing by the yellow tearoom’s doorway. He looked like a businessman through and through. His suit appeared well cut and expensive, tailored to fit him. She recognized him because she’d seen his photo in the local papers many times with the building of the Little Theater. He was tall and thin, possibly six-three or -four. His gray hair was slicked back over his right brow, but the hair on the left side of his head was shorn shorter. It was one of the latest styles that Daisy thought cost a pretty penny to produce. His shirt was silver but he’d left the collar open. His black shoes were shiny. In some ways he looked as if he should be going to a business meeting. In others, he looked a bit lost.
He extended his hand to her. His fingers were long and as slim as he was tall. After she took his hand, she noticed an age spot next to his mouth. He was older than Margaret—older than Margaret had been.
“I’m sorry we’re meeting under these circumstances,” he said, looking again toward the yellow tearoom. “Do you have a few minutes? I really need to speak with you. I’ll order tea or something to eat or whatever I have to do.”
“You don’t have to order anything. But I’d be glad to get you something.” She motioned to the board above the sales counter and the sales counter itself.
“I do like tea,” he said. “Margaret turned me into a tea drinker.” A look of sadness came over his face. “How about black tea?”
“Milk and sugar with it?”
He shook his head. “Just plain.”
Daisy motioned to Jada Green, one of their newly hired part-time servers. Jada’s braids were caught up into a ponytail. Her mocha skin and her dark brown eyes complemented her high cheekbones, her full lips, and her oval face. She was in her twenties, only about five-foot-one, but always wore a smile and she knew her tea. She had taken the place of another of Daisy’s servers—Karina Post—who had left Daisy’s employ to pursue a nursing career.
Daisy told Jada what she needed and said they’d be in the yellow tearoom. Jada hurried away to put together Vaughn’s order as well as bring a cup of tea for Daisy.
Once they were seated, Daisy said, “I know you have a lot on your mind. What can I do for you?”
“I just came from the police station and they don’t have a clue who killed Margaret. I think even I’m a suspect. I was in town when it happened, just not at home.”
“Whoever is closest to the victim is always considered first on the suspect list. I’m sorry.”
“So it really is like the crime shows depict.”
His question was rhetorical and didn’t require an answer. He went on quickly, “Vanna told me that you’ve helped solve four murders.”
“I’m not sure how much I helped. The police solved them. I just picked up clues along the way.”
“I was going to hire a private investigator but Vanna told me to talk with you. She said you’re good at this. This meaning solving murders.”
“Oh, Mr. Vaughn—”
“Call me Rowan. Please.”
“Rowan. To tell you the truth, I’m not sure I’ve recovered from what happened in the last case I helped solve. You really should leave this to the police. They don’t want me interfering.”
“You don’t have to interfere, Mrs. Swanson.”
“Daisy,” she said automatically.
“Daisy, I know I might
