Murder, Plain and Simple (21 page)

I stepped to the side, and he kept going.

I followed him. “Mr. Knepp, can I talk to you for a minute?”

He increased his stride.

“Mr. Knepp?” I picked up my pace. “Mr. Knepp?”

He whirled around. “
Nee.
Leave me be.”

I stayed a few feet back, grateful for the busload of tourists dismounting across the street, which meant plenty of eyewitnesses in case Elijah tried anything.

“Mmmm,” a woman with a walking stick said. “Can’t you just smell that sweet country air?”

Her friend took a deep breath. “I want to find a present for my daughter-in-law. She’s so difficult to shop for. She’s picky. Everything in her house has to coordinate. It drives me up the wall. I mean, will a little orange kill you?”

The tourists’ proximity made me brave and I jogged after the Amish man. “Mr. Knepp, I’d like to speak to you about your brother-in-law.”

Elijah glared at me over his shoulder and kept walking. “I thought I told you, stay away from my family.”

I increased my pace. “You’re right. You did. I want to talk to you about Joseph.”

He came to an abrupt stop, and I tripped over my own feet to avoid running into him again.

Elijah folded his arms across his chest. “What do you want to know?”

Elijah was only a few inches taller than me, but his glare brought me to a dead stop. “I—I—”

His lip curled. “You have nothing to say? No questions for me?”

“Where were you the night Joseph died?” I blurted out.

His expression was hooded. “You’re like everyone else. You believe that I have murdered my brother-in-law. It does not matter where I was. It does not matter what I say. I cannot change what you believe.” He started walking again.

I called after him. “Give me a reason to change my mind.”

He stopped this time on the corner across from the courthouse.

I took a few steps forward, leaving twenty feet between us. I had no desire to get any closer to him. “You wanted to stay with your sister’s family, correct? And he turned you away?”

“Ya.”

“Then, where were you staying the night he was killed?”

“In an outbuilding on the farm. My sister knew I was there. I had nowhere else to go.”

I didn’t tell him I already knew about his outbuilding hiding place.

“Can your sister vouch for you being there?”

“Yes.” He folded his arms.

“Have you told the police this?” I couldn’t keep the disappointment out of my voice. If Elijah had an alibi, I was back to square one. The only viable suspects I had remaining were Farley and Willow. I couldn’t completely count out Jessica, since she didn’t have an airtight alibi like Old Ben. The only one I was certain was innocent was Martha.

He scowled. “The sheriff and I do not get along. To talk to me, Mitchell will have to find me first.” His eyes flicked over to the tourists. “You think you’re safe because they are here.”

My breath caught.

He stepped closer to me. “There won’t always be witnesses around.” He looked down at Oliver, who hid behind my leg. “It would be a shame if such a cute little dog got hurt.”

A group of tourists strolled up to us and stood at the crosswalk, waiting to cross to the green in front of the courthouse. The sound of tourists’ laughter washed over me as their high-pitched voices echoed in my ears. “I’m going to buy my son an Amish checkers set. They make them from wood. They are darling.”

“Does your son play checkers?” her friend asked.

“He would if he had such a beautiful set,” the first woman said with certainty.

“What about chess?”

“That game is way too hard.”

Elijah grinned and stalked away. I watched him until his form disappeared around the corner. The tourists from the bus crossed Clay Street and flowed around me like a tide. Oliver leaned heavily against the backs of my legs.

I scooped my Frenchie up into my arms and ran all the way back to my house. I raced up my front steps, threw open the door, and locked and bolted it behind me.

Inside the house Oliver jumped into his dog bed, tucking most of his body under the blanket on top of it.

My hands shook as I scrolled through my phone’s directory, stopping on “paddy wagon.”

“Sheriff Mitchell.” The county sheriff’s voice cut through the fog surrounding my thoughts.

“It’s Angie Braddock. I think someone just threatened me.”

“Who?” His voice was sharp.

“Elijah Knepp.”

“Where are you?”

“At my home in Millersburg.”

“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

I hit the off button on the phone. “Maybe I should have thought this through, Oliver. Maybe calling the sheriff right away wasn’t the right move,” I said to Oliver’s tail, which was the only part of him visible under the blue and green blanket. The Amish man’s words played in my head again.
It would be a shame if such a cute little dog got hurt.
Truth be told, I probably would be able to handle the threat more if it was directed at me, not at my dog.

The doorbell rang. I peered through the peephole. Mitchell and Deputy Anderson stood on the other side. I let them in. “You didn’t have to come over.”

Mitchell ignored me and pointed to the stairs that led to the second floor. “Anderson, check the house.”

The deputy nodded and took the stairs two at a time. Mitchell stalked around my living room, peering at the carpet. Was he looking for footprints or something?

“He didn’t threaten me in here,” I said.

Mitchell did not speak to me as he moved on to the kitchen, still with his neck bent, staring at the floor.

I felt a blush creeping up my neck. Why had I called Mitchell? I wasn’t a damsel in distress, for goodness’ sake. I should have reported the threat and left it at that. He acted like Elijah hid somewhere in the house. I knew that wasn’t the case. Oliver would have warned me of that.

I followed him into the kitchen.

“That’s not really necessary. I saw Elijah on Clay in the middle of town. He wasn’t here.”

Overhead I heard Anderson move from room to room. He sounded like a Texas longhorn stampede. I scowled.

“I see the doggy door is still nailed shut,” the sheriff said.

“It’s going to stay that way until the killer is behind bars.”

“Good.” The sheriff’s face softened. “Poor guy.” His eyes fell on Oliver’s tail.

“He got spooked,” I said with a laugh. “When we saw Elijah in town.”

“He has every reason to be spooked. Elijah Knepp is a scary guy.”

“If he’s so scary, why is he back on the streets?”

“Not my choice, remember?” His mouth set in a grim line. “What led him to threaten you?”

“He didn’t actually threaten me. He threatened Oliver.”

Mitchell sighed. “What led him to threaten Oliver?”

“Well . . . I’m not sure.”

“What did you say to him?” Clearly, Mitchell thought I was partly to blame here.

Now I regretted calling the sheriff. Reluctantly, I told him.

“This is not good. You questioned Elijah, and what do you have to show for it?”

“He told me that Abigail was his alibi.”

“I already knew that. She told me the same thing.”

“Do you believe her?”

He sighed. “I believe she loves her brother and wants to protect him.”

“He’s hiding out on the Walker farm,” I added, hoping to prove how much I had learned. I don’t know why I had this desire to impress the sheriff.

Mitchell snorted. “I could have told you that. In fact, anyone in the county could have told you that. Everyone knows that Abigail has a soft spot for her brother.”

Anderson thundered down the stairs. “All clear, sir.”

I found his official tone annoying, but I held my tongue.

Mitchell pointed a finger at me. “I want you to stop talking to people about Joseph Walker. I especially want you to leave Elijah Knepp alone. He’s unstable. You should stay here until we find him.”

I blew out a breath. “I can’t stay under house arrest. I have to go to work tomorrow. The shop is open. Now that Martha quit, I have to be there.”

Mitchell shook his head. “I should have never let Farley twist my arm into letting you open so soon. I knew I’d come to regret it.”

“Sheriff, I’ll check the backyard,” Anderson volunteered. He stopped short of saluting his commander.

Mitchell nodded, and the young deputy launched into the kitchen. The back door slammed closed after him. “I thought if you were busy with Running Stitch, you’d stay out of trouble.” His aquamarine eyes flashed. “Obviously, I was wrong.”

I scowled.

He ran a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. “You need to be careful. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

Remembering what both Gill and Jessica said about the sheriff made me blush.

Mitchell ruined the moment when he added, “One murder in the county is one more than I need.”

I grimaced.

He peered into my face. “Is something wrong?”

“A man was killed in my quilting shop. An Amish ex-convict threatened my dog. Of course something is wrong.”

“I don’t know what I would do if anyone did that to Tux.” He scowled. “I still think you should stay home.”

“I can’t—”

There was a knock at my front door. By this time, it was approaching eight in the evening.

Mitchell’s head whipped around in the direction of the door. “Are you expecting anyone?” He placed his hand on the butt of his gun.

“No, but it’s always possible one of the ladies from the quilting circle may stop by. They like to check on me.” I walked to the front door and peered through the peephole. I made a face.

“Who is it?” Mitchell asked in my ear.

I felt his breath on the back of my neck and slid away. “It’s Danny Nicolson.”

Mitchell rolled his eyes. “What does he want?”

I opened the door. The reporter entered the house. He walked with his legs wide apart like a cowboy who’d ridden his horse far too long. All he needed was a pair of chaps and a set of spurs. I winced. Could the odd stance be attributed to the ants?

I glared at him. “Where have you been? I dropped by Jessica’s antiques shop to ask if she’s seen you.”

“I know. I got a text from her about an hour ago asking how my ant farm was.” He gave me a measured look.

“Did you get rid of all of them?” I bent down to pick up a throw pillow that had fallen on the floor, which doubled as an attempt to cover up my smile.

Danny’s lip curled. “I had to go to the doctor over that. I will spare you the details.”

“I appreciate it,” I said.

Mitchell rested his hands on his utility belt. “Mind telling me what this ant business is about?”

“No,” we said in unison.

Mitchell shook his head. “What are you doing here, Nicolson?”

“I heard the call on the police band and raced over. I knew if Angie was involved, it had to have something to do with the Walker murder.”

Mitchell watched him. “The police band would not have revealed the person’s name.”

“No, but I recognized the address.”

“My home address?”

He rolled his eyes. “It wasn’t that hard to find out. I am an investigative reporter.”

Somehow I didn’t find that so comforting.

Danny clapped his hands. “So, does this involve the Walker case?”

“We can’t answer that,” the sheriff said.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes.’” He mimicked shooting a gun at me with his fingers, which was clearly his signature gesture. “I want an exclusive. Whatever it is will be a great sidebar to go along with my main story about Joseph Walker’s death. You owe me, Braddock.”

“You think I’m going to give you a sidebar after you abandoned me on the side of the road? You’re nuts.”

Mitchell’s brow shot up. “He abandoned you where? Does this have anything to do with the ant talk?”

“Never mind,” I said quickly, wishing I’d kept my mouth shut in Mitchell’s presence.

The radio crackled on the sheriff’s utility belt. After giving a sidelong glance at Danny, he took the radio into the kitchen.

“Sheesh,” Danny said. “You’d think the guy doesn’t trust me.” He shot a thumb in the direction of Oliver’s exposed tail. “What’s up with Lassie?”

“He’s had a long day. We both have.”

“I’d like to hear more about that day.”

Anderson walked through the front door. “There’s no one on—” The deputy pulled up short when he saw Danny standing with me in the living room. “How’d you get in here?”

Danny cocked his head. “Maybe it’s time for a career change, Anderson. I wrote a piece on vocational schools in the region if you need some recommendations.”

Mitchell walked into the room before Anderson could come up with a comeback, which promised to take a while by the confused expression on the deputy’s face.