Murder, Served Simply (15 page)

“Just curious,” I said evasively. “It's just so tragic. Everyone in the county is curious about it.”

“I hope you don't have any silly plans to get involved.
That isn't your place. You have no idea what your father and I went through when you were a murder suspect during the summer. Ryan too.”

I glanced at Ryan. “Ryan too?”

He nodded. “I was worried about you. Please, Angie, don't do anything stupid.”

I gritted my teeth. Ryan had no claim to tell me what to do. I moved the conversation back to Christmas decorations and hoped that they would all forget about it.

After the meal, I said, “Y'all can head out and I'll just grab Oliver.”

Mom, Dad, and Ryan went through the main door. I found Oliver behind the counter. Linda was giving him little bits of bacon.

As my parents walked through the door, Linda called, “Come back soon!” She dropped the last bit of bacon on the floor. Oliver gobbled it up before I could grab it from him. Linda yanked on my sleeve when the bell rang their exit. “You never said how good-looking he was.”

“You were defending my broken heart early. It shouldn't matter what Ryan looks like.”

She snorted. “That always matters. What are you going to do?”

I pulled Oliver's boots out of my hobo bag and knelt beside my dog. “What do you mean?”

“Clearly the man came all this way to profess his love to you and whisk you back to Texas.”

I struggled to get Oliver's boots onto his feet. “I don't think—”

She put her hands on her hips and stared down at me. “So he gave up Christmas with his big fancy family in
Texas to visit Amish Country? You can't be that naïve. In fact, I know you are not. You're in denial.”

I knew Linda was right, but I didn't want to admit it, not even to myself. I stood with Oliver tucked under my arm like a football.

“What will you do?” She repeated her question.

“I will deal with it if the conversation comes up,” I said, surprising myself. Why hadn't I immediately said, “I will say no”? I didn't want to leave Rolling Brook, my quilting circle, Running Stitch, or Mitchell. Did I?

I left the diner more confused about my personal life than I was over Eve's death. Considering I was nowhere near finding the killer, that was a scary thought.

I
exited the diner to find my parents and Ryan chatting with Mitchell and his son, Zander, under a streetlight. While we had been inside the Double Dime, the sun had set. Mitchell's Boston terrier, Tux, was also with them. Oliver yanked at his leash in his excitement to see his best buddy.

The two dogs touched pushed-in noses and wiggled their stubby tails.

My mother stared at the dogs as if their interaction told her something she didn't like. It probably did and revealed much more than I wanted her to know, at least while Ryan was standing just feet away.

My mother sniffed. “We were just telling the sheriff how sorry we were about the poor girl at the play. It's terrible when someone so young is lost.”

“Who do you have with you there?” my father asked.

“This is my son, Zander. Say hello, Z,” the sheriff said.

“Hello,” Zander said. He had his father's trademark blue-green eyes. He'd be a lady-killer, just like his dad. “Angie, I just asked Dad this morning when you were going to come over again. I want to show you the new Lego set I got from my grandma for Christmas. You are the only adult I know who likes to play with Legos.”

“You play Legos together at the sheriff's house?” my mom asked. Her question asked much more than that.

Mitchell tapped his son on the top of his stocking hat. “Z, we will talk about that later.”

I glanced over at Lady Justice hanging above the courthouse. There was a spotlight at her feet, giving her an eerie glow in the early-evening darkness. Was it me, or was she smirking at this awkward moment? At least someone was enjoying it, other than Tux and Oliver, that is. The dogs touched noses again.

Mitchell cleared his throat. “How did you all enjoy the Double Dime? It's our favorite place in the county.”

“The food was excellent,” Dad said. “I could go for another piece of pecan pie right now.”

Mom arched her eyebrow. “‘Our'? Who's ‘our'?”

She didn't miss anything.

“Oh.” Mitchell blushed. “Z's and mine, of course.”

My mother pulled her leather gloves farther up her wrists. “What about his mother? Does she like it there?”

“No way!” Zander hopped from foot to foot. When he moved, the red light on the back of his boots lit up. The dog crouched and watched this with rapt interest. “She always says all I do is eat junk when I'm at my dad's house. She thinks the Double Dime is a heart attack on a plate.” He said that last part as if quoting his mother.

My dad grinned and patted his belly. “But what a way to go.”

“Your dad's house?” My mother would not be derailed.

The inquisition was getting out of hand. “Mom, the sheriff is divorced. That's what you want to know, isn't it? His ex-wife, Hillary, is a really nice lady.”

Mitchell grinned. “She likes Angie. Me, not so much.”

Ryan spoke up for the first time. “Everyone likes Angie.”

“Yes, they do,” Mitchell said, giving him a level look.

Okay, it was time to break this up.

“Gosh, it's cold out and getting darker by the second,” I said. “And we want to get to the tree farm before it's fully dark. So . . .” I trailed off.

Dad wrapped his arm around my shoulder. “That's right. Angie, I will take your mom to the house so we can get warmer clothes for the Christmas tree hunt. How about we meet you there?”

“I'll just go back with you, Mr. and Mrs. Braddock,” Ryan said. “It will give Angie and the sheriff time to talk.”

Mom looked ready to protest but shut her mouth quickly when she and Ryan shared a look. What were those two up to? I was probably better off not knowing.

I kissed both my parents on the cheek. “I'll see you back at the farm.”

My mother eyed Ryan before she, my father, and Ryan crossed the street on the green light and disappeared around the side of the courthouse where Dad had parked their rental car.

Zander knelt in the snow and played with the dogs. I nodded at Mitchell to join me a few feet away.

“How was dinner with Ryan?” he asked with mischief in his eyes.

“Tolerable.”

“I will certainly be glad when he's gone.”

“You and me both.”

“Glad to hear that.” The corner of his mouth perked up. “So when
are
you coming over to play Legos with Z?”

“Not until after my parents are gone.” I chewed on my lower lip.

Mitchell noticed because his cop eyes narrowed. “Do you have something to tell me?”

I nodded.

“And does it have to do with Eve Shetler?”

“Yep.”

He sighed. “What is it?”

I told him about the day's events. I left out the part about asking Jonah to take me to Nahum Shetler's shack in the woods. That wouldn't end well, and Mitchell would try to talk both of us out of it or forbid it altogether. I didn't think he would go as far as throwing us in a jail cell to stop us, but I wasn't going to chance it.

“You have been busy,” Mitchell said, not sounding too pleased about it.

“So what do you think about this business with the threatening notes? I assume you got my call.”

“I did, and the tip about the notes is credible. We found an unopened one in Eve's hotel room when we
searched it last night. It was right inside the door as Amber described.”

My pulse quickened. “So Eve never saw it.”

The snow let up, and the sun peeked through the clouds for a brief moment.

Mitchell squinted. “Apparently not.”

“What did it say?” I asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

He frowned. “Enough to make us concerned, and to give us more proof that Eve's death was no accident.”

“How were the letters written?” I wrapped my arms tightly around myself. The temperature fell with each passing second. I didn't know how Zander could kneel on the cold sidewalk so long.

He sighed, glancing back at his son and the dogs, who were happily romping in the snow. “They were done with a laser printer. It will be difficult to trace, but as we narrow down the suspects, of course we will determine whether they had access to such a printer, and then maybe, just maybe, we can match it. Printers aren't quite as easy to match as old typewriters. I'm betting whoever did this was smart and would use a printer we will never find.”

“It was premeditated.” I swallowed.

“Since the moment I saw the cut rope,” he said, “I've never doubted that Eve's death was planned from beginning to end.”

I shivered. Why would someone what to hurt such a young talented girl? Was it her youth and her talent that got her killed? “Did you learn anything from them? Did
you have the letter tested for fingerprints, DNA, and whatever else?”

His brow furrowed. “Yes, of course we did all of that. The DNA test will have to be done in the state crime lab. We don't have that kind of equipment.”

“I'm sorry. I know you are doing all you can. This case is playing with my head.”

“It doesn't have to. It's not your responsibility. You have enough going on with Mr. Dallas in town.” He gave me a sideways smile.

I chuckled at the nickname. “Maybe you're right, but I liked Eve. I sat by her at the progressive dinner just an hour before she died. She was so vibrant and full of life. It's hard for me to go on like nothing happened. And every time I think of everyone she loved losing her this close to Christmas, it breaks my heart.”

“I know.” He placed a hand on my shoulder.

“I feel the worst for Junie, her sister. She's like a lost puppy.”

“You have a thing for taking in strays.”

“Maybe I do, but I want to help her.”

“You drive me nuts, but I admire you all at the same time. You and Oliver had better get going. I heard you are looking for a Christmas tree.” He smiled.

“Mitchell, have you thought about Nahum?”

He nodded. “We won't know for sure if Nahum was on the property at the time until we check the time stamp that Blake recorded. Those ropes could have been cut anytime between the safety check and when Eve climbed on the swing.”

“Assuming it is accurate.”

“Yes, assuming that. Now, go on. I don't want your mother to get the wrong idea about why I held you up.”

“Okay, okay,” I said. “One more question.”

He rolled his aquamarine eyes. “I doubt it's the last one.”

“What are you doing for Christmas Eve?”

“I'm working.”

“And Zander?” I glanced at his son.

The sheriff's face fell. “He will be with his mother and her family. He spends Christmas Eve night with her, and I will get him late afternoon on Christmas Day.”

“That must be hard waking up Christmas morning without Zander there.” I reached out and rubbed his arm.

He frowned. “It is, but this will be our fourth Christmas like this. Z is comfortable with the arrangement, and that's the most important thing.”

“Will you have any free time during the day?”

He grinned down at me. “I might. Why do you ask?”

I swallowed. “Why don't you come with us to Christmas Eve dinner at the Grabers'?”

His face brightened but just as quickly fell again. “Won't it be awkward? I don't want to cause trouble between you and your mother.”

“It won't. At least it won't cause any more trouble than I am already in with her.” I smiled and gave him a hug. “Of course it will be awkward with both you and Ryan there, but I can't stand the idea of you alone on Christmas Eve.”

“Angie, that's very sweet, but—”

“You have to come. Anna invited us to her home for Christmas Eve dinner along with the Millers. You know Rachel and Anna both always make enough food to feed the Roman army.”

He laughed at my description. “I wouldn't want to intrude.”

“You're not intruding. If Anna found out that you were alone on Christmas Eve and I didn't invite you, she would never forgive me. Besides, I already invited Jessica on Ryan's behalf.”

“Oh?”

I smiled. “She took him on a tour of the county today.”

“I've always liked Jessica.” He glanced at his son and saw Zander was facing away from us as he talked to the two dogs. Quickly, the sheriff leaned over and brushed my lips with his. “You are a hard one to argue with. All right, I'll come. Text me the time, and I will be there. But I hope Anna won't mind if I'm late or have to leave suddenly. I never know what will come up, especially on a holiday.” He clapped his hands. “Z, it's time to go. Come on, Tux.”

I smiled as he left. But then my smile faltered when I saw Ryan watching me from across the street.

I
snapped Oliver's leash on his collar. The act gave me a moment to collect myself before facing Ryan.

I pulled on Oliver's leash. “Come on, Ollie. Let's go.”

The little Frenchie sighed as he watched his canine pal fade into the distance.

Oliver and I waited for a buggy to cross our path, and then we jaywalked across the street.

Ryan waved. “Does the sheriff know that you don't always use the crosswalk?”

“He probably suspects. I thought you left with Mom and Dad,” I said, relieved he said nothing about the kiss between Mitchell and me. With any luck, he never saw it.

“Your parents wanted to go home and change before the tree cutting. I think your mother has a special outfit in mind for the event.”

I chuckled. “I don't doubt it. I guess we will meet them there. Where's your car?”

“It's still at the hotel. Jessica drove all day.”

“Okay, come with me. I can drop you off at the hotel when I head to the trustees' meeting.”

Oliver hopped into the backseat of my SUV.

I closed the driver-side door as Ryan buckled his seat belt. “I can't believe that you have the same car.”

“Why?” I asked, starting the engine.

“Because so much has changed in your life, I expected this to change too.”

“It's a good car, and I can't afford a new one, even if I wanted one, which I don't.” I turned the key in the ignition.

“The cost of a new car doesn't have to be a problem for you.”

I ignored that comment as I turned onto Route 39, the most direct route from Millersburg to Berlin.

We drove in silence for a couple of blocks until I turned out of town and onto a country road.

“Did you and Mom plan that we'd ride together?” I finally asked.

He laughed. “Is it that obvious?”

“Yes.” I smiled. “Is Mom really changing her outfit to buy a Christmas tree?”

“I think so.”

I smiled. “Honestly, I don't doubt it.”

He wrapped his hand around the shoulder harness of his seat belt. “Angie, we need to talk.”

I gripped the steering wheel. “Ryan, we just had a nice dinner with my parents, and now we are going Christmas tree shopping. Why ruin it?”

He turned to face me. “I'm sorry.”

I concentrated on the road ahead. There was no traffic and the snow had stopped coming down. It didn't need
my undivided attention. “That's a good start. You should be sorry.”

“I made a mistake. I got scared.”

“Scared? Yep. I'm really scary.”

“Not of you.”

Oliver stuck his head between the two front seats.

“You're making Oliver frustrated. He likes to sit shotgun.”

“Angie, please. Stop trying to avoid this. I came a long way to have this conversation with you.”

“Why didn't you call? I'm
sure
my mother would have given you all my phone numbers.”

“You would have hung up on me.”

“Probably,” I admitted. “Okay, what do you have to say?” I kept my eyes on the road.

He took a deep breath. “I wasn't afraid of you. I knew you. I was afraid of marriage and commitment. I don't have a good reason for it, but that's why I broke it off. It was stupid, and I know what an enormous mistake it was.”

“At least you know that.” I gripped the steering wheel. “We were together seven years. I would call that commitment.”

“Marriage is different.”

“It is and it's not.”

“Angie—,” he began.

“You said what you came here to say. I listened to it, and I forgive you. I don't blame you for your decision. You made the right one. I wouldn't be here in Holmes County without it. I am grateful to you for that.” I paused. “
Now
, anyway. I wasn't at first, but I am now.”

He opened his door. “I don't want you to be grateful because you are here. I want you to come home.”

“This is my home.” I sighed as we joined the long line of traffic on Main Street in Berlin.

He was silent for a moment.

An Amish family wagon pulled out in front of me in the road. Berlin's Main Street was the most congested in Holmes County. It was the number one stop in the county for tour buses and tourists, and it made Sugartree Street in Rolling Brook look like a ghost town in comparison. Amish and English shops and businesses lined both sides of the street. The Shetler Tree Farm was on the other side of it, and Main Street was the most direct way to get there. Now that I was stuck in Amish Country traffic, which included automobiles, trucks, buggies, and tractors, I wished I had gone the long way. The traffic jam only trapped me in the car longer with Ryan. At the moment, that was the very last place I wanted to be.

“It's because of the sheriff,” he said as if his mind were made up.

“Sheriff Mitchell?” Playing dumb might not be the best strategy, but it was the best I had at the moment.

Five cars ahead of us, the light changed to red. I was never getting off this road.

“I saw him kiss you.” He sounded hurt. That was just too bad.

I tapped my fingers on the steering wheel. So playing dumb was not going to cut it. “I care about the sheriff. He's my friend, but he's not the reason I'm staying here. My quilt shop is the reason.”

“I'm not telling you to give up the shop if it means that much to you. I'm sure one of your Amish friends would manage it for you, and you can visit as much as you like.”

I ground my teeth. “Gee, thanks for allowing visitation rights with my own business. How kind of you.”

“I didn't mean it like that.”

“That's exactly how you meant it, and whatever your intention was, it doesn't matter. Running Stitch was my aunt's and now it's mine, and I want to run it. I can't do that from Texas.”

“If managing your shop was the only thing that you were doing.”

I whipped my head to face him. “What does that mean?”

“You're meddling in the investigation into that Amish girl's death, aren't you?”

“How?” I let the word hang in the air between us.

“I knew it as soon as you said you spent most of the day at the hotel. Yesterday you said the quilt show judging was in the morning, and today you spent most of the day there. Why would you need to be there that long?” He folded his arms. “Also, anytime the conversation veers toward Eve's death, you perk up. I can almost see the wheels in your head spinning.”

“That's ridiculous.”

“
Shetler
Tree Farm. Of all the tree farms there must be in their rural county, that is the one we are going to today, the day after Eve
Shetler
falls to her death at the performance of
An Amish Christmas
. I know they are
related, and I know that your sudden need for a Christmas tree was motivated by the crime investigation.”

Ryan was a winning attorney because he was excellent at details. I would have to give him that.

“Angie,” Ryan said, using his serious attorney voice. I suddenly remembered how much I'd hated it when he spoke to me in that tone. “You should not be involved in a criminal investigation. You could get in trouble.”

“Ryan, you are a corporate lawyer.”

“I may be that, but I still took criminal law in law school. You could get in major trouble if you mess with a police investigation.” He paused. “Whether or not the sheriff is your
friend
.”

The wagon in front of me turned off a side street, and I finally cleared the end of Main Street. The road widened into two lanes, and the car picked up speed. In the dark, I saw the entrance to the tree farm ahead lit by gas lampposts.

My tires crunched on the ice and hard-packed snow. As the parking space lines were covered, some visitors to the tree farm had parked creatively. Vehicles came to a stop in every which way in the parking lot. Amish men helped English families tie evergreen trees to the top of their cars with rope, bungee cords, and, as I suspected, prayer. Some of those trees looked like they would blow off with a stiff wind. I squeezed my little SUV between a minivan and a pickup truck. “We're here.” I opened my car door.

Ryan reached across the seat to me and caught my hand before I could escape. “I'm here for five more days. I'm not giving up that easily.”

I pulled my hand away but said nothing.

Dad and Mom's enormous rental SUV turned into the parking lot.

I clipped on Oliver's leash. I didn't want him getting away from me in all the confusion.

Mom stepped gingerly through the snow toward me. “Angie, are you sure this is the best place to buy a tree? It's a zoo.”

“It's the only tree farm I've heard about,” I said, which was completely true.

Beside me Ryan snorted.

“If you tell my parents what you suspect,” I said under my breath, “I'll make the rest of your vacation miserable.”

He smiled. “Don't worry, my love.”

I flinched.

Dad clapped his gloved hands together. “Angie Bear, this was such a wonderful idea. I haven't chopped down a real tree since I was a boy. It's something that Dad would do with us when we were young right here in Holmes County. Of course, we went to an Amish farm too. They grow the best trees.”

Mom pursed her lips. “Kent, do you think this is wise?”

“Oh, I remember the basics from when my father did it.” He marched across the uneven parking lot. My mother had to jog to keep up with him. Ryan, Oliver, and I fell into line behind.

A seven-foot-tall fence surrounded the tree farm on all sides. The acreage was impressive, and eventually the chain-link fence disappeared from view, making you
think that the tree farm went on forever. Families and Amish workers went in and out of the gate carrying freshly cut trees.

A large hand-painted sign, saying
ENTER HERE
, pointed to a large barn to the right of the open gate leading into the trees.

The noise from the excited English families there to pick out the perfect tree for their living rooms was deafening. Mom winced at the noise. Her kind of shopping took place at high-end clothing stores where everyone spoke in reverent tones.

We huddled in the doorway, unsure where to go, until an Amish man, who appeared to be anywhere between forty-five and sixty, waved to us. “Come on in.”

He was the same height as Nahum, and his deep-set features were close enough to Nahum's for the pair to be brothers. While Nahum's beard had been grizzled and wild, this man had a solid gray beard, which was neatly trimmed and hung just two inches below his chin. He had to be one of the Shetler men who ran the business.

“What can I do for you today?” the man asked.

“We are here about a tree,” Dad said. “We need the best Christmas tree that you have for my daughter's house.” He pointed at me. “This is my daughter, Angie.”

The Amish man nodded at me. “Then you've come to the right place. We have the best trees in the area.”

Ryan held out his hand to shake the man's. “I'm Ryan and this is the Braddock family. What's your name?”

My pulse quickened.

“Nehemiah Shetler. My brother Noah and I own and operate the tree farm.”

“How nice to own a family business,” my mother said.

“Have you been in business for a long time?” Ryan asked.

“We are fourth-generation tree farmers. We've been doing fruit trees and broadleaf trees for nearly that long. My brother and I were the ones who expanded the business to Christmas trees.”

“Is your brother here?” Ryan shoved his hands into the pockets on his long wool coat. “It would be nice to meet him too. It's always nice to know the owner of the business where you buy things.”

Nehemiah's face fell for just an instant. “
Nee
,
he's with his family today.”

“It seems like a busy time of year to take off work,” Ryan said.

The Amish man's eyes narrowed. “He has a
gut
reason.”

Dad cleared his throat. “It seems the Christmas tree business has been a good decision.”

“It has, no matter what anyone else might say.” Nehemiah bent over and patted Oliver's broad head. “Who is this little guy?”

“Oliver,” I said. “Are dogs allowed in with the trees?”

“Sure. But keep an eye on him. We aren't responsible if a tree topples onto him.”

Oliver whimpered and hid behind my legs.

“If you are ready to pick out your perfect tree, follow me.” Nehemiah took an ax down from the wall.

I stepped beside Ryan. “I don't need your help,” I whispered.

Ryan smiled at me as we followed Nehemiah out of the barn and into the tree yard. “So you admit that you are investigating the girl's death.”

I glared at him and caught up with my father.