"You are a wicked man."
"Right now I'm a very happy man."
"Let's not forget despicable. If you ask me, what you did is every bit as bad as if you had been the one to bludgeon and stab George Mitchell."
He frowned. "Well, I don't recall asking you."
Perhaps I had gone too far. It was time to turn off the vinegar, and turn on the honey, if I didn't want the fly in the hospital gown to get away.
"Still," I said, shaking my head as if in wonder, "it was ingenious of you to gather a bunch of George Mitchell's enemies together. What did Alma Cornwater have against the man?"
"Oh, no you don't, Miss Yoder. You're not getting any more information out of me. Not until I talk to my lawyer."
"Please."
"No."
"Pretty please," I begged. "I love puzzles, you see. Riddles of any kind. Can't you just give me some clues? Sort of a mix and match test. You tell me the motive, and I'll match up the contestant."
I think Jim Anderson was about to crack, but Nurse Dudley burst into the room, her arms flapping like a rooster about to crow. Her face and neck were as red as any wattles.
She pointed at me with a spur. "Aha! Just like I thought! It is you!"
"Moi?"
"Barbara Kauffman, indeed!"
"But I am she." Strictly speaking, this was a clever evasion on my part, not a lie.
"How can you be Barbara Kauffman when she's in the lobby asking for someone else?" She paused to gulp some air. "and that someone else is Magdalena Yoder!"
"Well, I couldn't possibly be her, now could I? I'm much prettier than her, remember?"
Nurse Dudley glared at me. "Where are your glasses? And why aren't you wearing your bonnet?"
I popped on the glasses, nearly jabbing my left eye in the process. As for the bonnet, it had slipped off the foot of Jim Anderson's bed, and I must have inadvertently kicked it under during the heat of our conversation. I had to get down on all fours to retrieve it. When I stood up I experienced a moment of vertigo, and that's why I plopped the bonnet on backward, completely covering my face.
Nurse Dudley was not amused. "Security!" she screamed. "There's an Amish impersonator in Room 134."
I flipped the bonnet around. "Calm down, dear. There's no need to get your knickers in a knot. I'm sure I can explain everything."
"I bet you can! Dr. Rosenkrantz said to have you, and your sister, thrown out the second I saw you."
"Well, Susannah maybe, but - "
"Do you have any idea how much trouble you caused?"
"Me?"
"Three patients called the Board of Health and complained about that rat you brought in."
"That was a dog! And a very clean dog, I might add." Trust me, I never thought I'd be defending the mangy menace.
"Security!" she screamed again.
The distant thunder of footsteps in the hallway made it clear that Bert, the security guard, was already on his way. No doubt this will come as a surprise to you, but I do not suffer manhandling well. The last time an authority laid a hand on me, I ended up in Hernia's hoosegow. It was not a pleasant experience. I saw no need to give the Bedford County jail an equal opportunity to damage my fragile psyche.
So said, I hiked up my skirts and hightailed it out of there like a bat out of a cave at sundown.
The real Barbara Hostetler was beaming like the searchlight in front of Wal-Mart when they run their Labor Day sale.
"What on earth are you doing here?" I snapped.
"Magdalena!"
I grabbed her by the elbow and did my best to steer her toward the door. The woman must wear suction cups on the bottoms of her shoes.
"Aren't you suppose to be at the doctor's, tinkling in a cup?"
"Ach, how you talk! I'm done at the doctor."
I dragged her through the hissing doors. "So soon?"
"Yah, there was no need to make in a cup. The doctor listened to my stomach and said - well, you know."
"That he heard it growl?"
"No!"
"Let me guess then - you're pregnant?'
"Yah. Very."
I looked at her. Amish aprons cover a multitude of sins. Obviously Barbara was a lot further along than I'd expected. Most probably further along than even she had expected.
"What do you mean by `very'?"
"Ach, I'm going to have triplets!"
"What? You mean twins?"
Believe me, I nearly swooned right there on the sidewalk. Twins are rare enough among my people, but I'd never actually known anyone who'd given birth to triplets. As a staunch Amish woman, Barbara had most certainly not undergone in vitro fertilization. Such matters are always left up the Creator. But like they say, when it rains it pours, and the once barren Barbara was now harboring a clutch of fertilized eggs. I was so jealous I nearly screamed.
Instead, I smiled graciously. "Three! Wow! And you're entirely sure about this?"
She nodded vigorously. "Yah. He said he heard three heartbeats."
"When are they due?" I wouldn't have been surprised, merely annoyed, if she had gone into labor there and then.
"The end of March."
I did some quick mental arithmetic. "But that means - Barbara, didn't you suspect anything earlier?"
"Yah, of course. That's why I came to see him today."
"No, I mean earlier. Didn't your monthly visitor cancel his visits?"
"Ach, that!" She had turned the color of old rhubarb. "Magdalena, I'm over forty. I thought the visits had stopped."
"I didn't know women got morning sickness into their fifth month," I said. It's possible that there was envy to be heard in my voice. Imagine that! Here I was, a successful businesswoman - friend and confidante of the stars, and I was jealous because a distant cousin's wife was puking into the john every morning.
"The doctor said each person is different." Barbara giggled. "He said except for that, I have the construction of a horse."
"You mean constitution, dear." Suddenly it hit me like a dozen of Mama's pound cakes. "Freni is going to be a grandmother!"
"Yah! And my Jonathan a papa!"
"Let's not forget Mose. He'll love being a grandfather. He loves children."
We were halfway to the car by then, but Barbara suddenly stopped. "Do you think she'll like me better now?"
"Who, dear?"
"Freni."
I thought guiltily of my complicity in Freni's scheme to oust the barren daughter-in-law from the family, even though she stood no chance of installing a new, more fertile one. Freni didn't want anything or anyone to come between her and her beloved son, but if someone did, and that someone was actually three someones - weighing in at less than five pounds each - and her own flesh and blood, would she change her tune? In a heartbeat.
"She'll worship the ground you walk on, dear."
Barbara beamed, brighter than that Wal-Mart searchlight. "I told the doctor I don't want to know the sex of my babies - until they're born, I mean. But if one of them is a girl, I'll name her Lily after my mama."
"And if there's a boy?"
"Jonathan."
"What if there are two boys?'
"That's easy. Mose. My father's name is Mose too, you know."
"How fortunate."
"Yah. Othewise it would be hard to choose. Jonathan's father has been like a father to me. Maybe all three babies will be boys." She giggled.
I decided to take the old bull by the horns again. What did I have to lose, except my pride?
"What if more than one is a girl? What other names are you considering?"
Barbara grinned from ear to ear. The Kansas Mose had been unwilling, or unable, to pay for braces.
"Well, Freni of course. But if there are three girls - " She paused dramatically.
"Yes?"
"I was thinking Magdalena."
I threw four hundred years of inbred standoffishness to the wind and gave her a big hug.
"But promise me you won't tell Freni."
"Oh." That was like asking a child not to open her Christmas presents until the day after Christmas.
"Promise?"
I crossed my fingers behind my back, but really meant it when I told her that wild horses wouldn't be able to drag the secret out of me. It seemed like a safe thing to say at the time, since feral equines are few and far between in Pennsylvania.
"I can't wait to see the look on her face when I tell her," she said. "All these years of feeling like I don't belong - ach, that will all change no, won't it?"
"You can be sure of that, dear." I hugged her again.
A wiser Magdalena would have turned around and rushed right back to the hospital - Nurse Dudley or no - and demanded to have her lips sewn shut.
-20-
ARTHUR STRUMP'S SEAFOOD CREPES
Crepes
1 cup flour
3 eggs, well beaten
1 " cups milk
" teaspoon salt
1 tablespoon melted butter
oil for frying
Sift together flour and salt. Add beaten eggs, milk, and melted butter. Beat thoroughly. Coat preheated skillet bottom with thin layer of cooking oil. Pour small amount of batter into pan, tilting the pan in all directions so batter will spread thin. Cook for approximately two minutes or until brown. Turn and cook reverse side.
Seafood filling
10 medium or five large shrimp, cooked, shelled
" cup cooked monkfish, flaked
2 hard boiled eggs, coarsely chopped
3 tablespoons butter
3 tablespoons flour
3 tablespoons freshly grated Parmesan cheese
2 tablespoons dry cooking sherry
" teaspoon salt
¬ teaspoon ground nutmeg
dash cayenne pepper
Melt butter in sauce pan over medium heat. Stir in flour, salt, nutmeg, and pepper. Stir until bubbly. Gradually add milk and stir constantly until mixture is thick and smooth. Stir in sherry. Fold in shrimp, monkfish, and eggs. Remove from heat. Spoon filling (approximately 2 tablespoons) on to each crepe. Roll and fold edges under as with tortillas. Place crepes fold-side down in greased baking dish. Cover with remaining sauce and sprinkle with Parmesan cheese. Bake at 350 for 15 minutes or until cheese melts or place briefly under broiler.
Serves 5.
-21-
I found Freni in the kitchen, along with Alma. They were the only two souls about.
I sidled up to Freni. "Where is everybody?"
"Ach, that Melvin changed his mind and had everyone go to the station. He said he wanted the jail cells handy when the murderer confessed."
"Even Susannah?"
"Yah, but she should be back soon. She was the next one on his list, after Alma."
I looked aroundm y normally tidy kitchen. There seemed to be an unusually large number of pots, pans, and utensils scattered about. There was definitely more going on than just lunch preparations.
"What's all this?" I asked. "Cooking for the wake?'
"Shhh," Freni said, pressing a stubby finger to her colorless lips. "Alma's trying to concentrate. It's her cooking day, and she thins she might be able to submit her sample after just one try."
"What? Don't be ridiculous! There isn't any more contest. Mr. Mitchell is dead, remember?"
Freni thrust her ample chest forward and drew back her head, in what is her classic confrontational stance. History has shown me that this is not the time to have a reasonable conversation with her. Unfortunately I am a slow learner.
"We have contracts," she said through pursed lips.
"Contracts? What contracts?"
"We all signed contracts when we entered the contest. The contracts say that the contest will be held no matter what."
"Even if the contest's organizer is murdered?"
"Yah, even then."
"Show me your contract, Freni."
"Ach!"
But much to y surprise, she reached down in her apron and from the depths of that ample bosom pulled a wrinkled sheet of yellow paper.
"Here. Read it!"
