Murder, Plain and Simple (26 page)
hapter Forty-one
The woman held the corner of the mint green and periwinkle quilt in her fingers, considering it. “This is for my first grandchild. You can’t help but spoil the first one, can you?”
“Congratulations.” Mattie gave her a dazzling smile. “A special gift like this for your daughter would be perfect.”
I slid behind the counter and began packing my sewing basket for the quilting bee. With Mattie to mind the shop, I felt free to go back. Maybe I could track down Danny and ask him why he’d been snooping into my personal life.
A woman with a variety of spools of thread approached the counter. “I love your store,” she gushed. “Quilting is such a talent. I wish I knew how. The best I can do is hem my husband’s trousers.”
I rang up her purchase and stuck everything into a small brown handled shopping bag. “I plan to offer quilting classes in a month or so.”
Her eyes lit up. “That sounds wonderful.” She waved over her shoulder at her friends. “Girls, the shop might offer quilting classes. We’d come back for those, wouldn’t we?”
“Oh yes, absolutely,” one gushed.
I smiled but it felt halfhearted. The women chose my shop now, but would they choose Running Stitch with Martha’s authentic quilting shop right next door?
I grabbed a pad of paper from under the counter. “If you want to write down your names and e-mail addresses, I can e-mail you the class schedule when it’s ready.”
All five women quickly signed the paper. After they left, the soon-to-be grandma approached the counter with the baby quilt nestled in her arms. “I’ll take this.”
I rang her up and congratulated her on her grandchild. Finally, Mattie and I were the only ones left in the room.
“You’re hired,” I said.
Mattie picked up the feather duster and ran it along the fabric shelves. “I am?”
“Yes, that was a great sale.”
She laughed. “That was nothing. I once talked someone at the bakery into buying five dozen cookies instead of two.”
“You’re a born salesperson.”
“I’d like to take some of those quilting classes when you offer them.”
“Great,” I said as I collected my needles and thread for the quilting bee.
“Angie?” Mattie asked in a small voice.
My head snapped up. A tear slid down her cheek. “What’s wrong?”
“Was there a fire at your house last night?”
“How’d you find out about it?”
“A lady from Millersburg said there was a fire in the middle of the night in her neighborhood. When she said what street the fire had been on, I knew it had to be yours.”
“It wasn’t my house. It was Oliver’s doghouse.”
Oliver whimpered.
Mattie knelt by the dog and fondled his ears. “I’m sorry, Oliver.” She tilted her head up to me. “Did Elijah do it?”
“We don’t know for certain, but the police think he might have done it. There was an Amish canister of kerosene at the scene.”
She stood up. “Elijah,” she whispered.
I set my sewing basket on the counter. “Did he ever hurt you?”
Her head snapped up. “It’s not something the Amish speak of.”
I took that as a yes.
“I saw him yesterday,” Mattie said.
“Where? When?” My voice was sharp.
She swallowed. “At the Walker barn after supper. It was dusk.”
That put their meeting somewhere around the nine o’clock hour. Long before the doghouse fire.
“I went there to tell him I couldn’t see him again. I told him I prayed about it and needed to make a change. I didn’t believe
Gott
wanted us together. We both needed a fresh start. If
Gott
brought Elijah and me together later in our days, he would. If he didn’t, it wasn’t meant to be.”
“Did you tell Elijah you were going to work for me?” I tried to keep my voice level.
“
Ya.
Should I have not told him?”
I was certain I knew who burned down Oliver’s doghouse and why. Mattie didn’t need to know too. “No. You did what you had to.”
“
Danki
, Angie. And thank you for giving me this chance. I won’t let you down.”
“I’ll hold you to that.”
Her eyes went wide.
“It was a joke.”
She dropped her shoulders in relief. “Oh.”
“Since you are here, I’m headed back to the Watermelon Fest. There’s a lot of interest in the quilt shop there, and I would like to go back. Can you watch the shop until we close at five?”
“Ya.”
Her eyes sparkled.
I removed the extra set of keys the locksmith had given me the day before. “This is for you,” I said, and then told Mattie about my encounter with Martha at the Watermelon Fest. Mattie smoothed her purple skirt. “How can she do it? I thought she was your friend.” Mattie slipped the key into her apron pocket.
I shook my head. I didn’t know if Martha ever qualified as my friend. Likely, she resented me from the moment Harvey told her who inherited Running Stitch.
“How could Abigail rent her husband’s shop so soon?”
“I don’t blame Abigail. She must be worried about money to lease the shop space so fast.”
“If Abigail has money concerns, the community will provide for her. That is our way.”
“Keep up the good work. I’ll be back at five o’clock.”
• • •
I arrived back at the Watermelon Fest just in time to see the watermelon roll. Children squealed as they pushed round watermelons along the grass. Parents and grandparents cheered them on from the sidelines. Jonah’s twins joined in and were taking no prisoners as they rolled their watermelons around the other children toward the finish line. If the energetic crowd was any indication, the Watermelon Fest was a success—even if the crowd at the eating competition was pummeled with watermelon seeds.
Sheriff Mitchell stood with Anderson a little ways from the watermelon roll. There was no sign of his wife or son. I twisted my mouth. I knew I should tell the sheriff what Mattie had told me about Elijah. It was a clear motive for the fire in my yard.
I hesitated. I felt betrayed by the fact he hadn’t shared information about his marital status with me. I wished I had asked him. I would have saved myself a lot of grief.
You are not ready for a rebound guy yet, if ever,
I reminded myself.
Even though I had not spoken of Ryan by name, Mitchell knew of my broken engagement. Would I have been as forthcoming had I known that the sheriff was not only married but had a child? Probably not.
I straightened my shoulders and marched over to the two law enforcement officers. Oliver barked softly to get the sheriff’s attention and leaned into the scratch when Mitchell bent and rubbed behind Oliver’s ears. I would have to give the little dog a talking-to later about who our friends were.
“Angie, I’d been wondering where you went off to.” Mitchell’s blue-green eyes caught the sunlight.
Focus, Angie, focus. Don’t let his aquamarine peepers cast a spell on you.
A man-stealer, I was not. “I had to run back to the shop. Mattie Miller is working for me now.”
“Oh.” The smile left Mitchell’s face.
“She told me that she broke up with Elijah.” I paused. “Last night. At the same time, she also told him she was going to go work for me at Running Stitch.”
Anderson cocked his head. “So, she dumped her boyfriend. What’s the big deal?”
Mitchell grimaced. “It’s motive. We have an APB out for Knepp, but he knows Holmes County as well as anyone. He has Amish friends who will hide him from the English police. He’s not easy to find unless he decides he wants to be found.”
“I have one final question.”
Weary, Mitchell said, “Yes?”
“Does Farley have an alibi?”
Mitchell nodded. “Yes, he does.”
“What is it?”
He shook his head. “I can’t tell you.”
“Fine. Enjoy the rest of the fest,” I said.
Mitchell frowned. “Thank you for telling me.”
I spun on my heels and walked away. I was behaving like a thirteen-year-old, but I couldn’t help it. I was over men. Over.
As I wove around fest-goers, I realized I wasn’t mad at Mitchell; I was angry with myself. Mitchell had done nothing to encourage my little crush. I was sure he had no idea how I felt. Thank goodness for that.
Anna patted the empty folding chair next to her, the one that she asked Martha to sit in before she made her big announcement. “Are you down in the mouth? Is it over Martha?”
I simply nodded.
Sarah put her needle into the quilt and moved to my side of the quilt frame. “Have you figured out who killed Joseph Walker?”
I laughed. “I think I’m going to leave it to the sheriff from now on. All of my suspects have led to dead ends.”
Anna snipped the end of her thread with a pair of tiny scissors. “That can only mean one thing. The murderer is someone you haven’t considered.”
I glanced around me. Amish and English visitors and residents walked around the fest grounds. Who was the killer? If Anna was right, it could be any one of them.
apter Forty-two
English parents herded their children back to their minivans, and the Amish did the same, only they helped their children climb into horse-drawn buggies.
All of Joseph’s worries about the Watermelon Fest destroying the Amish culture in Rolling Brook had been in vain. The Amish came out for the fest just like the English had.
Beside me, Willow clicked her tongue. “The weatherman promised me no rain.”
“Look on the bright side. It started after the fest was over for the day,” I said.
“That’s true, but we will have to get everything into the barn for the night or it will get soaked. Can you hang around and help out?”
“Sure. Mattie is back at the store. I don’t think she will be too worried if I’m a few minutes late.”
I helped Jonah fold up the quilt frame and carry it to the barn. We put it inside behind the carved-watermelon table. Another volunteer packed the watermelons in coolers with plenty of dry ice to keep them cool all night.
“This place cleared out quick,” I said.
Jonah stuck his bandanna into his back pocket. “Everyone wants to get home before the rain hits.”
Crack! Thunder broke through the quiet.
“Did your family already leave?” I asked.
“
Ya
, they went in
Mamm
’s buggy about an hour ago.”
I pushed him to the door. “You’d better go. If you don’t leave now, you will get soaked.”
He grinned. “Okay, okay! Sheesh, you’re as bossy as you were as a kid.”
“Don’t forget that.”
Jonah stepped out into the rain. Willow met me at the barn door. “We’re all done. Thanks for your help.”
“No problem.”
She carried a huge carafe in her arms. “You know what’s strange? Almost all of my watermelon tea is left. Hardly anyone drank it.”
“Huh. That is weird.”
“Do you want some to take home?” She held the carafe to me.
“Oh no, I got my fill.”
She shrugged. “I think everyone is out okay.”
I shot my thumb into the barn. “Oliver is in there. He’s afraid of thunderstorms. I need to go get him.”
“Do you need help finding him?”
“No, I should be fine. You go home before the weather gets much worse.”
She adjusted the weight of the carafe in her arms. “Remember to latch the barn doors when you go.”
After Willow left, I walked back into the barn. “Oliver!”
A bark came from the direction of the carved-watermelon table. I found Oliver lying on one of the largest coolers. His legs were spread-eagled to make sure his overheated belly had full contact with the cool surface.
I put my hands on my hips. “What are you doing? Are you hot?”
He barked again.
“I’ll take that as a yes. Let’s go home. I’ll give you a nice cold bath. How does that sound?”
He jumped to the barn’s dirt floor.
“Are you still set on not being my investigation partner?” Danny asked.
I spun around, and Oliver crawled back under the table, out of sight.
“Give me a break, Danny.”
“We could make a great team. Someone has to catch the killer for the town, right?” He strode toward me.
Something Danny said earlier that day suddenly hit me. He told me if I found the deed not to use my aunt’s methods when I hid it. Did he mean inside the quilt? Did he know? I had been distracted by his comment that Abigail might still want Running Stitch now that Joseph was gone, but standing alone in the empty barn with Danny, I realized that might have been a huge mistake. Anna’s words rang in my ears.
That can only mean one thing. The murderer is someone you haven’t considered.
I’d never considered Danny as the killer.
The inside of the barn was stuffy, but I suddenly felt very cold. Had I been alone, I would have bolted out of the barn at that very minute, but I couldn’t leave Oliver, who was crouched under the table.
“I realized I misspoke earlier today,” Danny said. “You got me upset, and I said too much.”
I willed myself to appear calm. “I don’t think so. You’re right, Abigail could still dispute my claim to the shop. I don’t have the deed.” I shook my head in mock annoyance. “Oliver, come out of there.”
The Frenchie wouldn’t budge. I could crawl on the floor to grab him, but that would put me in a vulnerable position.
“That’s not what I’m talking about. I meant when I told you that you should put the deed in a safety-deposit box instead of using your aunt’s methods.”
I waved his comment away. “Oh, that. I didn’t think much of it.”
“Then you’re not as smart as I thought. However, you would have put two and two together eventually, and that’s not a risk I can take.” His tone held a steel edge. “You would have figured out I knew about the quilt.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You know that I killed Joseph Walker. How else would I know the deed was inside the quilt or that Joseph had a key to get inside your shop?”
His sentence hovered in the air between us like one of the storm clouds rolling overhead outside.
His comment about the key gave me chills. I forced a laugh. “Why would you kill him?”
“You were my motive.”
I jerked back. “Me? Why me?”
“Because I went to the shop that night searching for information about you. Joseph was already there. He’d already found the deed.”
“Why did you want to know anything about me?”
“I didn’t buy your story about inheriting the shop. I thought there was more to it. When I heard you and Joseph argue about the missing deed at the grand reopening, I knew there was potential for a great story there. Amish-English property disputes always grab a lot of attention in Holmes County. I went to the shop to see what else I could find on you for background. I hoped to check out the shop earlier, but you were there until past midnight.” He glared at me as if I should apologize to him for delaying his breakin.
I didn’t reply. Instead my mind jumped from idea to idea as I frantically tried to figure out how to get Oliver and myself out of the barn safely.
“I didn’t expect to find Joseph there.” He took a step closer to me. “When I found Joseph and the ripped-up quilt in the stockroom, I told him to give me the deed. I knew that it would be the perfect evidence I needed for my story. The newspaper would be fascinated by a story about an Amish man breaking into an English store. Typically, the Amish are less”—he paused—“hands-on about that sort of thing.”
“How’d that go?” I asked.
He glowered at me. “Joseph jumped me and we fought. I honestly thought he was going to kill me. He’s twice my size.” Danny licked his lips. “So I grabbed the closest thing I could find, those fabric cutters, and I lashed out with them.”
“You killed him,” I whispered.
“I didn’t mean to kill him, but that man was like a freight train. He was pummeling me. It was self-defense.”
I took a step back and ran into the cafeteria table.
He clasped his hands together as if in prayer. “You can’t tell the police. You can’t. It will destroy everything that I worked for.”
“You destroyed that yourself,” I snapped. “The moment you stepped into my shop that night.”
Danny’s eyes narrowed, and his red hair had a devilish gleam to it with each flash of lightning. I knew it was only a trick of the light, but that knowledge didn’t creep me out any less.
“Danny, I’m leaving now.” I edged away from him. “You can leave too. You should have run away from Rolling Brook the moment after you killed Joseph.”
“I couldn’t do that. I had to cover the murder for the paper.”
“A murder that was your fault.” Did he have any idea how crazy he sounded? I guessed not.
Before I realized what he was doing, he lunged for one of the heavy serving trays that had held the dry ice. In the same motion, he hit me on the side of the head with the tray. I reached for the table for support, missed, and fell to my knees. Danny hit me a second time in the same place on the head. Oliver was barking and growling. The sounds of his barks echoing in the huge barn were like an ice pick to the side of my brain. My last thought was that Danny better not hurt my dog. Then everything went black.