Daisy didn’t believe the play had gotten Margaret killed, but one of the people involved in it might have.
“I asked Ms. Nurmi what I could bring her. She said she’d enjoy a pot of Winter Surprise, but she seemed fidgety,” Cora Sue related.
Fidgety like she didn’t want to be here? Or fidgety because she knew Daisy was going to ask her questions? Daisy would find out soon enough.
“I have all the teas stowed away. Maybe later you could make up bags of it to sell. I checked inventory and we’re getting low.”
“No problem. I’ll brew Winter Surprise. Should I bring anything else?”
“Maybe a plate of snickerdoodles. They’re hard to resist.”
Cora Sue’s brows arched and she gave Daisy a sly smile. “Are you trying to soften her up?”
“Not soften her up exactly. I’d like to make her comfortable so she doesn’t feel like I’m interrogating her.”
“Even if you are?” Cora Sue asked knowingly.
“I’m not getting involved in the case this time.”
Cora Sue gave her a long look.
“I’m just going to ask her a few questions to please Margaret’s husband. I don’t expect to get anywhere.”
“That would be the first time,” Cora Sue muttered.
“I have a lot on my plate,” Daisy murmured. “Vi and the baby, Thanksgiving, Jazzi and her birth mother. I don’t have time to step into murder mud, so to speak, and get swallowed up by it.”
Cora Sue pulled the tin of Winter Surprise from the shelf. “Do you want a cup of tea too?”
“Sure. Drinking with a friend can create a bond.”
“I wish you luck,” Cora Sue said as she went to make the tea.
It wasn’t long until Daisy was sitting across the table from Glenda, sipping tea. Glenda stirred sparkling sugar into her cup, then set down her spoon. The utensil clinked on the side of the saucer. “I’m not sure why you want to talk to me. I certainly had nothing to do with what happened to Margaret. Arden told me you help investigate murders, but I know nothing. So this is a waste of time.”
Daisy believed Glenda was one of those women who knew she was beautiful. She wore her black hair parted down the middle. It fell into waves along her face past her shoulders. Her makeup wasn’t dramatic but expertly applied, from eyeliner and mascara to an absolutely flawless matte-surface complexion. Primer and foundation gave the impression of doll-like porcelain. Her lips were outlined and filled in with one of those nude colors that made most women look like zombies.
On Glenda? She resembled a runway model. At five-ten with a slender, almost too thin figure, she could have worn anyone’s new line. However, today she wore skinny designer jeans and a silky off-white blouse that tied at her right waist. Her plaid wool cape lay folded over the back of her chair.
“From what I understand, you were a good friend of Margaret’s,” Daisy said. “Is that right?”
Glenda gave a little lift of one shoulder. “We had one of those friendships that was on and off. I’d get too busy or she’d get too busy and we wouldn’t talk for months. In addition to that, I’m ten years younger and we didn’t often think in the same way.”
Trying to interpret what Glenda was saying, Daisy decided that Glenda and Margaret were surface friends most of the time. “How did you meet Margaret?”
“We met at an actors’ workshop. We were both much younger and trying to become experts in our craft. We were both waitressing at the time.” She lifted a shoulder again in a shrug. “Many of us did that to pay the bills.”
Daisy nodded. “I couldn’t find much information about Margaret’s acting career. I understand her stage name was Luna Larkin.”
After a slight hesitation, Glenda answered, “Her stage name was Luna Larkin. She used it when we were both taking bit parts at the time of that workshop. Margaret mostly acted off-Broadway.”
“How about you? Off-Broadway too?”
“On and off. But when I started screenwriting I felt that was my passion. I’m not sure Margaret ever found hers. She hit the jackpot when she connected with Rowan.”
Jackpot. Is that the way Glenda thought of a rich husband . . . and Margaret too?
“How so?” Daisy asked, wanting more of an explanation.
“She could live more than comfortably with him. He’d promised her that Little Theater before they were married. I think that’s one reason she married him. He was intrigued by her. She saw him as a man who could give her everything. The thing is—that thinking doesn’t work.”
“What do you mean?”
“No man can give you everything. You have to have it within yourself,” Glenda determined vehemently. “People think money can make you happy. Money can make you more comfortable, but not happy.”
When Daisy offered Glenda the plate of snickerdoodles, Glenda took one. “Do you know anyone who might have wanted to hurt Margaret?”
Glenda shook her head, still holding the cookie. “Rowan had more enemies than Margaret ever did. He doesn’t keep a close enough eye on his properties. One of them burned down because of a faulty sprinkler system. I heard him and Margaret arguing over it a couple of times because of the financial repercussions as well as mud on his reputation. She was afraid that would affect the Little Theater production.”
Either Glenda was tossing out information to put Daisy on a different track, or it was info that could lead somewhere.
Glenda took a bite from her cookie. “These are good.”
Daisy smiled. “We consider them a Pennsylvania Dutch treat. Lots of women I know make them for Christmas.”
“These would be good anytime. Cinnamon is my favorite.” Glenda waved the rest of her cookie at Daisy. “You ought to come to the theater and watch rehearsals.”
“The man I’m dating, Jonas Groft, is working on the sets, so maybe I will.”
“In honor of Margaret, I’m determined to put on this play in the best way possible. It will be a success just
