Murder, Plain and Simple (10 page)

I patted the top of his head. “Sorry, buddy. I chased your new friend away by asking too many questions.”

He barked softly.

I marched down Clay Street, playing my conversation with the sheriff over and over again in my head. Why wouldn’t he admit that it was
very
unlikely that I killed Joseph Walker? I guessed he learned to take the hard line in cop school. At least I had the foresight to talk to Harvey the day before. The next time Mitchell got on my nerves, I’d tell him to “talk to my lawyer.” I’d always wanted to say that anyway.

I paused at a bookshop and peered into the window. Next to the bookstore, a refinished park bench with ivy vines stenciled along the back sat in front of the neighboring shop’s display window, along with a wheelbarrow full of odds and ends, a small wooden ladder, and an old push mower. A plastic container of metal weather vanes stood next to the shop’s front door. It was an antiques shop called Out of Time, Jessica Nicolson’s shop.

The sign in the window said that hours were one to five on Sundays. It wasn’t even ten in the morning yet. I peeked through the window and saw a very fat gray cat lying next to the cash register across the counter. Jessica was at the counter counting out bills. I tapped on the glass. She jumped and dollar bills went flying into the air.

This perked up the cat some. At least she opened her eyes for half a second to watch the money flutter to the floor. With hurried motions, Jessica collected the bills and shoved them back into the cash drawer. Then, she strode across the shop, weaving in and around the maze of antiques toward the front door.

I heard the lock turn.

“I’m so sorry I startled you like that,” I said in a rush. “Oliver and I were out for a walk and came upon your store. I remembered you asked me to stop by sometime. I can come back when you open.”

“No, no reason for that.” She sniffled.

I squinted at her. Her eyes were red rimmed and her cheeks pasty white. “Are you okay?”

She stepped back and let Oliver and me into the shop. Upon entering I was almost skewered by a suit of armor holding an ax.

“Don’t mind Knight Richard here.” She removed a crumpled tissue from her pocket and touched it to her eye.

My mouth hung open. “Where did you come across that?” There were no medieval castles in Holmes County, that was for sure.

“Oh, I bought it at an estate sale in Akron. It belonged to one of those old tire tycoons that used to run the big rubber plants up there. It cost me a bundle too, but I always wanted a suit of armor. I doubt I’d ever have another chance to have one.” She patted Knight Richard on the arm.

“So it’s not for sale?”

She smiled more broadly. “Everything in the shop is for sale for the right price. Are you interested in my knight? He’s no trouble, probably the best man you can find in Holmes County.”

“No thanks,” I said, thinking that I had enough man trouble in my life as it was, if I counted Ryan and Sheriff Mitchell. I grimaced to myself. Sheriff Mitchell wasn’t man trouble. He wasn’t to be thought of like a man, as in someone who might spark my interest. He was a cop ready to send me to the pokey.

“Did I say something wrong?” she asked.

I stepped all the way into the shop, edging away from the knight while Oliver disappeared under a coffee table. “Oliver, you come back here.”

“He’s all right.” She closed the door. “My cats weave in and out of the antiques all the time.”

I wasn’t so sure. Ever heard of a bull in a china shop? I didn’t think a bulldog in an antiques shop could have that much better of an effect. “Will my dog upset your cats by being here in the store?”

“They will hide from him. Is he used to cats?”

I nodded. “He’s been around them since he was a puppy. My parents back in Texas have two Persians. Oliver gets along with them fine.”

“Persians are gorgeous cats.” Jessica’s eyes glanced back and forth around the room. “I wish I had a place for you to sit, but there was a big estate sale last weekend in Canton, and I’m still unpacking everything. So things are”—she paused—“tight. You will have to excuse the mess.”

I sidestepped a rocking chair that was full of cast-iron pots. “If you need help organizing, I’m happy to pitch in. There’s not much else I can do for the next few days.”

Her expression was pinched, and her eyes watered. “Yes, I heard about that.”

“Are you all right?” I asked.

“Oh, it’s just allergies. It’s always so dusty in here.” She laughed halfheartedly.

Allergies?
I wasn’t buying it.

“If you don’t mind standing, I can pour you a cup of coffee. I made a fresh pot. I’ll never be able to drink it all.”

“I’d love some.” Mentally, I added,
I’d love some information too.

Jessica wove between and around the antiques with practiced ease. I took two steps and an ornate candelabra stabbed me in the hip. I winced as I edged around the sharp metal piece.

Jessica’s coffeepot was on a small card table behind the cash counter. A collection of porcelain clown dolls was also on the table. I did my best to ignore the creepy-happy smiles and painted faces. I liked clowns as much as Oliver liked birds, maybe less. Jessica poured coffee into a mug shaped like a cow. She slid it across the counter to me and filled her own mug, a chicken. At least it wasn’t a clown mug.

“If you think this is bad, you should see the back room. It’s even worse in there but worth it. I bought some lovely pieces, and they should move quickly out of the store if I can find the place to show them off. Thank you for your offer of help. I may take you up on it.”

“Does your shop get a lot of business?”

“The shop does all right, especially in the summer and weekends when folks are in town to visit the Amish shops and businesses. But I do most of my sales online through my Web site.”

I perked up. “How does it work? I’m hoping to do that same thing. I think it would be a great way to sell quilts.”

She nodded. “It would be. I’m sure there are a lot of customers across the country that would love to have Amish-made quilts but can’t make it to an Amish community to purchase them. Occasionally, I run across an antique quilt that I can sell at Out of Time. The antique Amish quilts always get a nice price. They can be hard to come by too. Most of the old Amish quilts are rags today. Before the tourists came, quilts were made for the practical purpose to keep the owner warm. Selling through your Web site is an excellent idea.”

I nodded. “I think so too.”

“When you are ready to set up your Web site, let me know, and I can show you what I did.”

“Thank you. I’d really appreciate that.” I smiled.

The gray cat opened one eye and closed it. “Who’s this?”

“That’s Cherry Cat. As you can see, she’s very pregnant. I have two other cats, Melon and Berry. You might not see them while you’re here. They are more reclusive than Cherry.” She waved her arms around. “As your Oliver discovered, there are many places to hide in the shop. I’ve only had Cherry for two weeks, and she thinks that she runs the place and somehow convinced Melon and Berry of that too.” She laughed.

I scratched the cat between the ears. Her fur was short and soft; it felt like velvet. “She’s beautiful.”

“I think she is a Russian Blue, or at least part Russian Blue. She doesn’t have any papers, so I will never know for sure.”

The cat leaned into my touch and purred so loudly I wondered if a passerby would hear her out on the street.

“I’m part of the foster kitty program with the shelter here in Millersburg. They found Cherry a few weeks ago hiding under a bush beside the courthouse. I’m one of the few foster homes willing to take a pregnant mother in. She’s such a good girl, though, I plan to adopt her for good. That’s how I got Berry and Melon too. They started as foster kitties.”

“When are the kittens due?”

“The vet said any day now. I’ve been keeping my eye on her to see if she starts building a nest somewhere. I have a box in the back where she can have the kittens. Hopefully, I can catch her when it’s the time. There are a lot of places in this shop to hide a kitten. If she has her babies somewhere on the floor of the shop, it will be nearly impossible for me to find them until she is good and ready to show me where they are.”

I believed her. Plastic crates of vinyl records sat on top of Art Deco tables, fishing poles leaned against an old-fashioned gumball machine, and a lady’s bicycle circa 1930 hung from the ceiling, held by thick steel hooks. “I can see why you wouldn’t want her to wander off. I think I could get lost in here too.”

“You wouldn’t want a kitten, would you?” Despite the redness around her eyes, they twinkled with the prospect of finding one of her wards a good home.

I shook my head. “No, Oliver is more than enough for me.”

Jessica nodded, but I got the impression that she wouldn’t give up that easily in finding Cherry Cat’s babies good homes.

I cleared my throat. “Really, I can’t take on a new pet right now. I assume you heard what happened at my quilt shop yesterday.”

Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes. “I did.” She wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand.

“Jessica, there’s something wrong. You can’t tell me your reaction is just allergies.”

A tear rolled down her cheek and fell from her chin. She didn’t bother to wipe this one away. “I’m sorry.”

I was taken aback. “There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

She clutched her coffee mug in her hands. It was a wonder she didn’t burn her palms. “It’s such a horrible, horrible thing to happen here of all places.”

Was Jessica upset because of the shock or was it something more? I suspected the latter. “I found Joseph.”

Her eyes doubled in size. “I didn’t know that. I’m so sorry.”

My gruesome discovery yesterday flashed across my mind’s eye once again. I hoped one day I would be able to forget it. “Danny was with me when I found the body.”

“My cousin Danny?” She wrinkled her nose. “I hope he behaved himself.”

I arched my brow. “For the most part. Do you expect him to misbehave?”

Jessica sighed. “I hate to speak ill of him, and our grandmother would wallop me a good one if she thought I was demeaning Danny—he always was her favorite—but I would watch what you say around him. That’s all.”

Between Sarah and Danny, I had to watch what I said around several people in Holmes County. Before it popped out of my mouth, I stopped myself from telling Jessica about the photos that Danny took of Joseph’s body. I bet the sheriff would not appreciate if I shared that information, and I’d like to stay on his good side as much as possible.

“I’m sure Danny is chomping at the bit to follow this story. And the biggest story ever to come out of Rolling Brook. He might even get the attention from the big daily newspapers that he wants so badly.” Her tone was surprisingly bitter. “He doesn’t care about the family involved.”

“You mean Abigail and her daughters?” I asked.

She looked at me with a start. “Y-yes, that’s who I meant.”

“His wife is devastated.”

“I imagine so.” She took a tissue from the box sitting on the counter. “And those poor girls.”

I set a mug of coffee on a tabletop pool table. “How do you know Joseph?”

She straightened a line of porcelain clown dolls. I could hardly look at them. They freaked me out that much.

She smoothed a clown’s shirt. “I know him as well as anyone else in the county.”

“I think you know him better than that,” I said.

One the clowns toppled forward on its face and she righted it. “What do you mean? Holmes County is small. After you’ve lived here a while, you will know everyone knows everyone else.”

“When you left the quilt shop and almost ran into Joseph, you looked upset.”

“I hate to run into anyone like that. I could have knocked him down.”

I cocked an eyebrow at her. Joseph was twice her size. If anyone was going to get knocked down on impact, it would be her. “Most people aren’t as visibly upset when they run into a neighbor about town.”

She abandoned the clowns and crossed her arms. “I thought you were raised in the South. Shouldn’t you be more polite, then? Or are things different where you come from?”

I took a step back, away from her hostility. An icy feeling crawled up my back. Could Jessica be involved in the murder? “I never fit in all that well in the South.” My voice was matter-of-fact.

Much to my relief, she chuckled. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

“I think Joseph came over you,” I said, relieved that the counter was between us. I could make a dash for the door if need be, but what about Oliver?

“I think you should go. I need to get ready for the shop to open.” She reopened the cash drawer and began smoothing out the bills that had flown into the air when I rapped on the window.

“Did he hurt you somehow?” I asked.

She spun around. “No, never. Joseph would never hurt anyone. He was an upright man. He always did the right thing. Always. Some may not have liked his methods.”

“What methods would those be?”

“Joseph believed firmly in his order’s rules. He thought they were the only way to live. Anyone who didn’t obey the rules was judged.”