Suspendered Sentence (An Amish Mystery) (15 page)

Transferring the book to the end table, she peered across the parlor at her aunt. “I don’t know how you seem to maintain your energy the way you do. I’m half your age and I can barely keep my eyes open past nine o’clock these days.”

Diane tilted her head downward and peered at Claire from atop the upper frame of her reading glasses. “When I head upstairs at nine thirty each evening, I actually go to sleep. You, on the other hand, don’t.”

“Oh?” she asked, yawning.

“I’m in my sixties, Claire. I can no longer make it through the night without going to the bathroom at least once.”

“And your point?”

“There’s light coming from beneath your door at all hours of the night.” Diane flipped her own book onto the armrest and stretched. “That’s why you’re running out of steam.”

It was futile to argue, so she kept her mouth shut.

“What I can’t figure out, though, is why. The financial issues at the shop that you kept from me throughout the fall have been resolved, yes?”

“Yes.”

“You still get to see Esther even now that she’s married, right?”

“I do.”

“And you have an absolutely wonderful young man in your life who is positively smitten with you.”

She laughed. “Positively smitten, eh?”

“Positively smitten,” Diane repeated with conviction. “So why are you still awake at one, two, sometimes
three
in the morning?”

Why, indeed?

Swiveling her body to the left, she lifted her legs onto the couch and reclined her head against the armrest. “You know me, Aunt Diane. I worry. About
everything
.”

“I know that. But there’s nothing to worry about right now, dear.”

She watched the flickering shadows from the fireplace dance on the ceiling and willed herself to relax, to let the peaceful setting work its magic on the tension she’d felt building for days. But she couldn’t. “A girl’s body was found next to a barn less than a mile and a half from here.”

“And it’s tragic, Claire, it really is. But staying up all hours of the night isn’t going to change anything. Instead, it has you being tired before you ever even open your shop.”

“Oh, that’s right, I didn’t tell you yet.” She rolled onto her side and smiled at her father’s only sister. “I hired some help this afternoon.”

Diane clapped her hands. “Oh, Claire, how wonderful!”

“Let’s wait and see if that’s really the case, shall we?” She closed her eyes long enough to travel back to the moment she extended her hand in Annie’s direction, virtually sealing a deal Esther had foisted on her in rather sneaky fashion. “This could turn out to be a disaster of a decision.”

“Oh, stop it. How could having an extra pair of hands be a disaster?”

“Let me count the ways,” she mumbled as she bypassed another glance at the ceiling in favor of the actual flames.

“What on earth are you talking about, dear?” Diane persisted.

“Well, my first impression of my new employee wasn’t good. And I’m not sure that ever really changed convincingly enough to offer her a job.”

“So why did you?”

“Because, at the last minute, I picked up a hint of genuine sincerity.”

“And?”

“To put it bluntly, I caved.”

Diane swung her legs over the lounge chair and stood, her sensible-soled shoes making soft padding sounds across the series of hand-hooked rugs that dotted the parlor’s wood floor. “Don’t go anywhere; I’ll be right back.”

Claire thought about protesting in light of the sleep she knew she needed, but she was too tired to give it words. Besides, Diane was right. She didn’t sleep. At least here, in the parlor, she had someone to talk to, to share her worries with even when they weren’t hers to worry about in the first place.

Five minutes and a few familiar sounds later, Diane reentered the room carrying a medium-sized tray with two mugs of hot chocolate and a plate of oatmeal scotchies. “Sit up! Sit up! I have sustenance!”

She looked from the plate of cookies to her aunt and back again, licking her lips as she did. “Yes you do . . .”

Diane set the tray in the center of the coffee table, divvied up the mugs and cookies, and then sat back down on the edge of her favorite chair. “I almost grabbed the last few chocolate chip cookies but then I remembered you packed them for lunch today.”

“I packed them but I didn’t eat them.” She bit into the still-warm oatmeal cookie and savored the sweet taste added by the butterscotch chips. “Mmmm . . .”

“You passed on cookies?” Diane repeated in disbelief. “Are you feeling okay, dear?”

“Aside from being exhausted, I’m feeling fine.”

Diane’s left eyebrow arched upward.

“I didn’t pass on the cookies because I didn’t want them.” She brushed a few cookie crumbs onto the napkin Diane had placed beside her mug and then leaned forward to take a sip of her hot chocolate. “I didn’t eat them because my new employee did.”

“Tell me about her,” Diane prompted as she, too, took a sip from her own mug.

Wrapping her hands around the cup of steaming liquid, she settled on a starting point for Diane’s verbal introduction to Claire’s new employee and potential nightmare. “She’s sixteen, Amish, and wearing miniskirts under her plain dress.”

“Ahhh, she’s on Rumspringa.”

“Until the last few minutes before I caved, she was a girl who wanted to work at my shop for two reasons. The first being money, of course, and the second tied to the lack of customers when she walked through the door. She assumed, because of the latter, an employee of mine would have nothing to do except, perhaps, eat the best parts of my lunch.”

A knowing smile made its way across Diane’s thinning lips. “The cookies?”

“Yes, the cookies . . . The grapes . . . The crackers . . .”

The woman’s soft laugh filled the distance between them and made Claire wish they were sitting side by side. If they were, maybe she could rest her head on Diane’s shoulder the way she used to as a child. “And during the last few minutes?”

She took another, longer sip of the hot liquid and then returned it to the table in favor of another cookie. “The kid actually seemed like she wanted to work with me.”

“That doesn’t surprise me.”

“Spoken like the incredibly biased, yet wonderful aunt that you are, Diane.” She allowed herself to enjoy the light feeling before revealing the last noteworthy piece of news regarding Esther’s replacement. “Her name is Annie. Annie Hershberger.”

“As in Bishop Hershberger’s youngest daughter?” Diane asked, her left eyebrow resuming its previous arch, with the right one quickly showing its solidarity.

Claire nodded.

“Hmmm.”

“Is that a good hmmm, or a bad hmmm?” she asked between bites of her cookie without truly tasting the fruits of her labor.

Diane shrugged, then settled all the way back in her chair. “It’s neither, really. I’ve just always been curious about what it’s like to be an Amish bishop . . . or an Amish bishop’s wife.”

“I can’t help you there but I suspect I’ll be fairly well versed on the many trials and tribulations of being an Amish bishop’s
daughter
before the end of the week.” She reclaimed her mug for another few sips and then set it back on the tray along with her crumb-filled napkin.

“It’ll work out fine, Claire, just you wait and see. Having Annie there will allow you to get back to making your candles. It’ll also give you more time to visit Esther and maybe go out to lunch once in a while with a certain good-looking detective . . .”

There was no stopping the smile that raced across her face at mention of Jakob. Playing in the snow with him the previous day was the most fun she’d had in years if not her whole adult life. Yet as quickly as her daydream took off, reality came along to squash it in its tracks. “That certain good-looking detective of whom you speak has more important things to do right now than squire me off to lunch.”

“Such as?”

“Such as figuring out how Sadie Lehman died and who, if anyone, was responsible for her death.”

“That’s where that journal Benjamin found will come in handy, right? It gives Jakob three distinct people to question.”

“Two,” she corrected.

“Two? But I thought you said Elizabeth mentioned three people.”

She stood and wandered over to the first set of built-in bookcases that lined more than half of the room. Interspersed among the collection of hardcover and paperback books Diane had assembled over the years were framed pictures of Heavenly and its people, as well as pictures of Claire taken during countless summer visits as a kid. “Miriam Stoltzfus ran.”

Diane’s gasp mingled with the sound of firewood crackling in the hearth. “
Ran?
What do you mean
ran
?”

“I mean she was here one day and gone the next, her sudden destination someplace up north. Caring for a sick relative her own husband can’t even name.”

“Maybe it’s an old friend. Maybe Jeremiah is too distracted by everything happening on his property that he doesn’t remember the name his wife said,” Diane offered.

Claire ran her finger down the edge of a black-and-white frame, the picture taken alongside one of her favorite roads on the Amish side of town. “Or maybe she was afraid Jakob’s investigation into the discovery of Sadie’s body would lead him to her door. And secrets she doesn’t want to tell.”

“Oh dear. I hope you’re wrong.”

“So do I, Aunt Diane, so do I.” She dropped her hand to her side and continued meandering around the room.

“In the meantime, while he waits for Miriam to come back, Jakob can certainly see what Leroy Beiler remembers, can’t he? Maybe he’ll know something helpful.”

She crossed to the large front window and parted the heavy drape at the center, her gaze drifting out over the darkened fields of Heavenly. “If Leroy Beiler knows what happened to Sadie, he’s been keeping it a secret from her parents and his community for a very long time. And if that’s the case, he’s already proven his disinterest in being helpful.”

“And let’s not forget Mike O’Neil,” Diane reminded. “He’s another one who won’t be terribly excited to be questioned about an unreported death that transpired in his midteens. Something like that could destroy his mayoral campaign.”

Claire took in the fire one last time and then leaned forward to plant a kiss on her aunt’s forehead. “I better try and get some sleep. I have to start training Annie tomorrow. Thank you for tonight, though. I needed it more than I realized.”

“Annie will do fine, dear, you just watch and see.” Diane beamed up at Claire before reaching for her book once again. “Having some time for yourself is a good thing, Claire. It lends itself to all sorts of new possibilities.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she joked between yawns. Then, midway to the parlor door, she glanced back at her aunt. “Diane? When is the mayoral election?”

“The first Tuesday in April.”

“April,” she repeated as much for herself as the only other set of ears in the room. “Hmmm . . . Maybe with all my new me time, I can see what it’s like to work on a political campaign during its last few weeks.”

Chapter 15

T
hree hours into their first day together and Claire was hard-pressed to find one thing Annie had done wrong. In fact, if she was honest with herself, the teenager was an incredibly hard worker who seemed to have a real knack for interacting with customers.

When asked to stock a shelf, Annie not only stocked the shelf, she also arranged it in a way that was more eye-catching than its previous incarnation.

When asked to take the trash out to the Dumpster in the back of the alley, Annie not only did as she was told but also stopped to sweep the small hallway and shovel away a sliver of ice from the back stoop.

And when asked to help a customer while Claire assisted another, Annie invariably ended the interaction with a sale.

The girl was, in a word, a godsend, and it was time Claire acknowledged her efforts with more than just a nod and a smile.

“Annie?” Claire dumped a new roll of quarters into the cash register and shut the drawer. “Can you come sit with me for a second?”

Annie jumped down off the step stool that had allowed her to stock a few new hand-carved trinket boxes on the shelf and stared at Claire, wide-eyed. “Did I make a mistake with the money?”

She glanced down at the register and then back up at Annie as the reason behind the baseless concern took root. “No . . . no, it’s nothing like that. You’ve just been working hard these past few hours and I’d like you to come sit with me for a little while. If you brought a lunch, you’re welcome to eat it now if you’d like.”

“Isn’t the store still open?” Annie asked as she carried the stool to its holding spot just inside the doorway to the back hall.

“It sure is. But if someone comes in, I’ll take care of them. You need to eat.”

Annie shrugged, disappeared into the hall, and then returned a few moments later with a small basket similar to the one Esther had used for lunch as well. When she reached the counter, the girl set the basket in front of Claire. “I hope you like cold chicken.”

“Cold chicken? Annie, you don’t have to bring me lunch.”