Death at the Day Lily Cafe

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  To Elizabeth and Madeline, with love

  A symbol of birth and humility, the lily reminds us that our good deeds do not need to be known by others. It is helping someone that gives us the greatest reward.

  When you have only two pennies left in the world, buy a loaf of bread with one, and a lily with the other.

  —CHINESE PROVERB

  ONE

  * * *

  The Day Lily Café

  Join us Thursday for our Grand Opening. Enjoy a complimentary cinnamon muffin with any coffee purchase. Open for breakfast and lunch, 7:00–3:00.

  167 people like this.

  VIEW ALL 17 COMMENTS

  * * *

  Annie Hart

  Yay Mom!!!!!! I’m so proud.:)

  * * *

  Tony Ricci

  Good job, princess, but for crying out loud, stop giving away free stuff

  * * *

  Janice Tilghman

  Way to go, Rose Red. Way cool.

  Mr. Miele’s high-pitched beep signaled the first batch of French roast had finished brewing. I cinched my robe and trotted down the narrow stairs of the two-hundred-year-old farm house that had been bequeathed to me by my beloved Aunt Charlotte. The breaking dawn lightened the sky to navy blue, bringing the shapes of the various objects in my kitchen into focus. The glowing green clock of my treasured coffee bistro read 5:00. Boot stomps on the front steps announced Tyler’s arrival. After removing two mugs from hooks under the cabinet, I rolled my shoulders back and smiled. I’d done it. I opened a café, and Tyler and I had the organic produce to provision it. I was looking forward to seeing him. He had been swamped with the farm lately, and I spent all day, every day planning menus, prepping, and shopping for the best ingredients I could find—ideally local and organic. As a result, Tyler and I only saw each other for a brief shared coffee in the morning and an exhausted hi/good-bye in the evening.

  We first met the day he appeared in the lane leading to my new residence, visibly annoyed at my neglect of the property for the previous two years and anxious to get the fields working again. But over the past year and a half, he had become a dear and trusted companion.

  “Just in time.” I spun around, a wide grin on my face. “I’ve been so nervous I couldn’t sleep.”

  “That’s understandable,” he said, and accepted the mug. Early morning sunlight streamed in the window, irradiating his emerald eyes. His hair was freshly washed, the sandy blond contrasting with his tanned skin.

  “We did this together. You and me.”

  He walked over to the sugar canister. “That’s not really true.” He pulled open the silverware drawer.

  “Sure it is,” I said. “You grow most of the produce. You help me with the flowers and herbs. And what about the eggs? All of them come from our own free-range, fat, happy chickens.”

  “Speaking of chickens.” He turned to face me but avoided my eyes. “A hawk got one yesterday. I tried to stop it.”

  “And?”

  “I was too late.”

  “Oh no. How awful.” I gripped my mug tighter. “Which one? It wasn’t Scheherazade, I hope.”

  Tyler shook his head. “I told you not to name them.”

  “I can’t help it. They have such distinct personalities.” I searched his face. “It was her, wasn’t it?”

  “Nope. It was one of the bantams. Mick Jagger set off the alarm by squawking his heart out. He was trying to protect his hens.”

  “I didn’t know roosters did that.” I set my coffee cup on the counter. “See? Chickens are amazing. Thus they deserve names.”

  Tyler peered into the bread basket. “You don’t happen to have any extra muffins, do you?”

  “Those are my trials from yesterday, so please, help yourself. I think they came out pretty good. Did you ever eat cinnamon toast as a kid?”

  “The best.”

  “That was my inspiration.” I removed a plate from the cabinet and arranged the muffins in a circle. “Will the hawk come back?”

  “For certain.” He sipped his coffee. “It’s probably out there right now.”

  I suppressed a shiver. “Oh, I almost forgot. I have something for you.” I tugged my robe tighter around my waist, and walked over to the table. I unfolded a T-shirt and held it up for him to see. “Ta-da!” The tee was a deep forest green with small white letters in the upper left-hand corner that read:

  BARCLAY MEADOW

  AN ORGANIC SUSTAINABLE FARM

  I flipped it over. The same words, only in a larger font, spread across the back. “Do you like it? I ordered a couple. And I got a few for me, too.”

  Tyler smiled. “I do, actually. Good color.”

  “It will go nicely with your eyes.”

  “I would have been better off not knowing that.” Tyler took the shirt from my hands, finished his coffee, and set the mug in the sink. He turned around, his face animated in a rare smile. “Good luck today. You’ve worked hard. You deserve to have this success.”

  “Thank you.” My heart skipped around in my chest. “You know that means the world to me, coming from you.”

  He lingered a moment and then headed toward the front door. There was no chocolate Lab following him today. Dickens, getting on in years, now waited for Tyler under the shade of a sycamore tree.

  I hurried up the narrow, creaky stairwell. I hung my robe on a hook and slipped into a white blouse, short black skirt, and my favorite pair of wedge heels. Once I had fluffed my hair and added a little makeup, I clasped my mother’s pearls around my neck. I raised my eyes to the ceiling and, as I always did when I put on the pearls, said, “Miss you, Mom. Every day, all day.” I gave my watchful cat a little pat and was on my way at last.

  TWO

  A dense mist rose from the Cardigan River as I drove into town. Despite my best efforts, I was running late. I scrolled through the contacts on my hands-free phone menu, careful to keep an eye on a pair of cyclists weaving along the road in front of me, and clicked on Glenn’s number.

  “Rosalie, where are you? People are already reading the menu outside.”

  “I’m on my way,” I said. “Have you started the coffee?”

  “Of course,” Glenn said. I felt instantly soothed by his calm, confident tone. He was my path to Zen.

  “There are a couple of bikers in the road in front of me. They must think we Eastern Shore folks have nothing better to do.”

  “Careful,” Glenn said, “you’re starting to sound like a native. And I think they prefer the term cyclists.”

  “Has Custer put in the first batch of muffins?”

  “The aroma of that cinnamon is making me salivate.”

  “Thank you, Glenn. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

  “No need to find out. All right, dear. Crystal is setting the tables. She’s doing some fancy thing with the napkins. It looks pretty good. Be safe, and remember to share the road.”

  I ended the call and exhaled a deep breath in an attempt to calm my nerves. I was relieved my employees were ready to start the day. So far I had three: my cook and dishwasher, Custer Wells, Tyler’s wayward nephew who had needed a job; and two wait staff—Crystal Sterling, a young woman who was taking an extended break from her fine-arts education at John Adams College, and my best friend, Glenn, who at the age of seventy-two was able to keep orders in his head, soothe ruffled feathers, and pour a cup of West African blend without spilling a drop.

  I stared at the cyclists, willing them to turn. That was a lot of spandex. A little too much information for my taste. One of them pointed to a farmhouse. The other wobbled as he turned to look at it. I eased off the accelerator. At least the fog was lifting. A lazy flock of Canada geese flew in a low V over the river, their out-of-sync honks piercing the quiet. I sank my teeth into my lower lip. I seemed to be the only one in a hurry this morning.

  When the cyclists finally turned down a side road, I gunned the engine—but instantly slammed on the brakes when I noticed Sheriff Wilgus’s cruiser idling on the berm. I had slowed to the posted twenty-five miles per hour by the time I passed him. He was scowling, a radar gun at the ready. I gave him a little wave and rounded the corner into town.

  THREE

  The windows of the Day Lily Café glowed like sun-kissed tangerines in the early morning light as I drove past the front of the restaurant. The café was tucked in a row of storefronts on Main Street, not far from the park in the center of town and just around the corner from Birdie’s Shoe Store. Two large white window boxes flanked the glass door, filled with an assortment of fragrant herbs. Royal blue awnings piped in white flapped in a gentle breeze. I continued down Main Street and turned into the alley,
toward my parking spot behind the café.

  “I’m here…” I called as I passed Custer’s motorcycle and pushed open the door. He had his head out a window, the small butt of a cigarette tight between his fingers.

  “Custer, please, how many times have I told you to go all the way outside to smoke?”

  “I just needed a couple of puffs.” He stubbed out the butt on the windowsill and shoved it in his front pocket. “You’re late.”

  “I know. Don’t forget to wash your hands.”

  “Yes, boss.”

  I ignored his sarcasm and tied a short turquoise apron behind my back. “Have you started the potato cakes?”

  He shook his head as he lathered his hands. “Too soon.”

  I studied him. Today would be a test of us all, individually and as a team. Although we had done a cold-open a few weeks ago in order to work out any kinks, I’d chosen Memorial Day weekend for our grand opening. Cardigan would be overrun with tourists from DC, Philly, and Maryland’s Western Shore on the opposite side of Chesapeake Bay.

  I watched as Custer tossed a paper towel into the trash as if it were a basketball. At twenty-four, he was illegally handsome, with chiseled features not unlike his uncle Tyler. Thick brown hair jutted out of a black-and-white bandana tied around the top of his head. His eyes were mesmerizing, with light-colored irises centered in a pool of deep green.

  “You going to be okay?” I said.

  “I could use a few eggs.”

  “Oh my gosh. They’re still in the trunk. Here.” I tossed him my car keys.

  A smile crept up his face as he looked down at the keys cradled in his palm. I drove a sporty red Mercedes convertible, a fortieth-birthday gift from my now ex-husband, and had never felt comfortable in it.

  “Don’t get any ideas.” I put my hands on my hips. “You know, Custer, Tyler won’t tell me why you needed this job so desperately. But he did say something about a probation officer.”

  “Nobody was wronged. Nothing got stolen.” He closed his fingers over the keys. “I guess that’s all you need to know.”

  I watched him walk out the door. With his good looks and sassy attitude, Custer could very well be Tyler’s son and not his nephew. Maybe Tyler had a few secrets of his own.

  I picked up my belongings, pushed through the swivel doors, and stopped as a wave of happiness washed over me. The room glowed, its ocher-tinted walls as warm and inviting as a Tuscan hillside. The tables sported turquoise-and-white floral cloths with small white toppers, and the honey-colored wood floors shone in the light streaming in the front windows.

  “Hello, my dear,” Glenn said. He approached wearing our standard uniform: black slacks, crisp white shirt, and his own turquoise apron around his waist, with pockets to accommodate order pads, tips, and straws. “Glad you could make it,” he said, and winked.

  “Today of all days.” I smiled. “Thanks for getting things started.” I set a bucketful of fresh flowers onto the dark marble counter, which hosted a row of eight high-backed chairs. Two industrial-sized Miele coffee systems sparkled along the wall, ready for action. I lifted a snowy white peony out of the bucket. Water clung to its stem, and the flower had recently burst open into a display of velvety petals.

  “I swear, Glenn, between gathering eggs, snipping herbs, and cutting flowers, I’m lucky I got here when I did. Oh, and did I mention the rooster who is in need of a sleeping aid?”

  “Mick Jagger?”

  “The one and only. Although Tyler often calls him stud muffin. Same difference, I guess.”

  Glenn chuckled as he pulled two more flowers out of the bucket. “You’re here now, and I’m looking forward to the morning.” He smiled over at me. “It’s going to be the best debut this town has ever seen.” Glenn snipped the stems and dropped several more peonies into a glass vase.

  Crystal emerged from the ladies room, tucked her cloth bag under the counter, and walked over to us. Her black slacks sat low on her hips. A long, honey brown braid hung down her back, exposing an intricate Celtic tattoo encircling the back of her ear.

  “Hi, sweetie,” I said. “Are you ready for the big day?”

  “I’m cool.” She cocked her head. “You all right?”

  “Never been better.”

  At twenty-six, Crystal had translucent skin and dark eyes that she adorned with thick navy liner. She clutched the chunk of golden amber she wore around her neck, smoothing it with her thumb. “I just got a weird feeling. Is everything okay?”

  “Oh my goodness, yes.” I patted her arm. “I’m sorry I was late. I think I’m still a little frazzled.” I glanced at the clock. Ten minutes to opening. “You ready for our big day?”

  “Rosalie.” Glenn nudged my arm. “Doris Bird is at the door.”

  I followed his gaze. Doris, proprietor of Birdie’s Shoe Store and a dear friend who had helped me out more than once, including bailing me out of jail last year, had her hands cupped around her eyes, peering in at us. An uncharacteristic frown was set hard on her face. “Oh my,” I said, and hurried over to let her in.

  FOUR

  Glenn fetched Doris a cup of coffee while I escorted her to the counter. She perched on one of the high chairs at the bar and gazed around as if to orient herself.

  “Doris,” I said, “what’s happened?”

  She pushed her thick glasses up her nose. “I brought you your paper.” She handed me the Washington Post. “I figured you wouldn’t have time to pick it up today.”

  “Thank you.” I set it aside. “Who’s watching the store?”

  “My granddaughter, Ellie Sue. She can’t work the credit card machine yet, but she can count money pretty good.”

  Glenn set a steaming cup of coffee in front of her. “Doris,” he said, “you seem upset.”

  She nodded and gazed over at me. “I need your help, Miss Rosalie. My baby sister, Lori, is in a heap of trouble, and you’re the first person I thought of. You did such a good job figuring out who killed that college girl last year, I thought maybe you could help us.”

  Glenn and I exchanged a knowing look. Crystal hummed while she folded napkins, but I knew she was listening. “What kind of trouble?” I said.

  She looked down at her lap and tugged her printed dress over her knees. “CJ, her husband of thirty-one years, was killed night before last.” She looked up, her forehead lined with worry.

  “Oh,” I said. “I’m so sorry.” Out of the corner of my eye I saw Crystal frantically sliding a finger across her neck, signaling me to cut the conversation short.

  “I can’t imagine who could do such a thing.” Doris frowned. “Problem is the sheriff has decided Lori is the one who killed him.”

  “And you’re certain she didn’t?” Glenn said.

  Doris looked surprised at Glenn’s question. “She says she didn’t. I mean, I believe her, of course. Lori is a lamb. She never even raised a hand to swat at a fly.”

  “It’s seven o’clock,” Crystal sang. “And we have customers.”

  Doris pushed herself off the stool. “I won’t keep you. I know this is your big day.” Her eyes darted around. I had never seen her so nervous. “I’ll be sending folks over here. I have a stack of your menus on the counter.”

  “Doris—” I took her hand in mine. “I have no idea how I can be of help to you, but that doesn’t mean I won’t try.”

  “Rosalie…” Glenn said, narrowing his eyes in a warning look.

  I wasn’t sure if Glenn was concerned about me neglecting the café or getting into trouble, or maybe both, but I felt indebted to Doris for all she had done to help me over the past year. “Can we get together after I close?” I said. “Oh, and let me pour your coffee into a paper cup so you can take it back to the store.”

  “I don’t suppose you would go to Lori’s house with me? The sheriff let her go late last night, but she’s still pretty upset.”

  “All right,” I said, trying to ignore the million things I would need to do once we closed at three.

  “Welcome to the Day Lily Café,” I heard Crystal say. She led a young couple over to the table in the corner by the windows.