Unforeseeable (7 page)

“You can tell her yourself if you want. She's not that busy right now.”

“That's okay. I don't want to bother her.” Hope wrapped herself up in her cloak. “Maybe when I come back there will be some news.”

“Are you bringing Beau with you?”

Hope and Ebbie's dog, Beau, had been adopted by the entire town. He'd once belonged to Avery Menninger. When Avery died, Hope's father took him in. After Ebbie and Hope got married last summer, Samuel gave him to the newlyweds. Lizzie had welcomed Beau into the restaurant without hesitation. He was a very clean dog and never begged food or acted obnoxious with the customers.

Hope laughed. “Yes, I'll bring him with me. He would hate to miss the evening crowd.”

Noah held the door open and Hope slipped out. The cold air swept in, as if desperate to find warmth. He started to shut the door but pulled it open again when someone walked up to the entrance. Margaret Harper, one of Kingdom's newest residents, stepped inside. Four months ago, Margaret had petitioned the elders to move to Kingdom after her husband was killed in a farm accident. Claiming to be second cousin to a resident who passed away many years ago, the elders felt an obligation to help her. She was very shy and for the most part kept to herself. For some reason, however, she seemed to gravitate toward me, always wanting to talk. I tried to be
friendly, but there was something about her that made me uncomfortable. Unfortunately, Margaret and I had a tie that wouldn't be broken anytime soon. The church purchased my home for her after I decided to move, wanting to distance myself from the memories of my father's illness. My eyes drifted longingly toward the stairs that led to my apartment. More than anything in the world, I wanted to escape from this day and take a nice, long, leisurely nap, but there wasn't any way I could desert Lizzie. Besides, I needed to be here for Levi when he returned.

“Hello, Margaret,” I said. “Can I get you something?”

Her eyes darted back and forth, taking in all the empty tables. “Are . . . are you closed? I thought you usually served dinner about now.”

“We do, but there's been an unfortunate situation. A woman has been killed.”

Her dark-blue eyes grew wide. “Killed? Who? Someone from our church?”

I shook my head. “We don't know. Levi and some of the men have gone to find out who it is. We're waiting for their return.”

“Oh. I saw lots of townspeople gathered in the hardware store and inside the market. That must be why.”

“I wondered where they went. Got tired of waiting in here, I suppose.”

She granted me a rare smile. “I suspect it's because Lizzie doesn't cotton much to gossip. Harold Eberly's usually at the center of it, and Aaron Metcalf's too busy working at the general store to listen to folks blathering.”

“I'm sure you're right. What can I get for you?”

She rubbed her hands together. “Just a cup of coffee, please. It's so cold out.”

She sat down at a nearby table and removed her cloak. All her clothing looked old. It wasn't tattered, just faded. She was always dressed in black or dark blue, although most of the women in town had transitioned to other colors and patterns. We still dressed modestly, but at least now there were choices—something that wasn't allowed before the recent transformation in our church. Not everyone in Kingdom welcomed change, however. I wondered if Margaret dressed the way she did because of her beliefs, or if she didn't have anything else besides the two or three dresses she wore over and over. With her work-worn fingers, she pushed a strand of brown hair, streaked with gray, behind her ear. Her bun was always messy, as if she wasn't used to fashioning it. However, her most noticeable characteristic was a terrible scar that started over her left eye and ran down her cheek, twisting her features. I tried not to stare at it, but it was hard to miss. I wondered how it had happened. Although I didn't like the woman much, I did feel sorry for her.

“Lizzie has some Dutch apple pie that would go very well with that coffee,” I said, feeling guilty about my aversion to Margaret. “It looks like she made way too much. If you'd like a slice—”

“Oh yes. That would be wonderful. Thank you.”

I nodded and went back to the kitchen, where I relayed to Lizzie what I'd said. “I'll be happy to pay for it.”

“Don't be silly. You know I'm happy to give anyone what they need. Besides, you were telling the truth. I really don't want this pie to go to waste.” She grinned at me. “You're getting to be as bad as I am.” She cut a large piece of pie and handed it to me. “And put some ice cream on it.”

I got the vanilla ice cream out of the freezer and added a
big scoop to the plate with the pie. Then I poured a cup of coffee and carried them both out to Margaret's table. When I set the pie and ice cream down in front of her, the weariness in her face seemed to ease a bit. I'd noticed that she always looked tired, and whenever she could manage a smile, it never reached her eyes. There was a deep sadness about Margaret that seemed to have seeped into every part of her body. Losing a husband had to be very difficult, and being so badly scarred was probably a heavy burden for a woman to bear.

“Do you have time to sit a bit?” she asked.

I shook my head. “I've got to refill the salt and pepper shakers before supper, but we can visit while I do it.”

What little animation there was in her face melted. She was obviously lonely. As her sister in Christ, it was my obligation to treat her with kindness. Why was it so hard for me? I went back to the kitchen to get the large containers of salt and pepper. Taking a moment to send up a prayer for patience, I went back into the dining room, determined to show Christian love. Margaret looked up from her pie as I neared her table. The abject unhappiness in her expression made me instantly ashamed of my selfish attitude.

“So how are you adjusting to the house?” I asked as I filled the shakers on her table.

She grasped her coffee cup with both hands, and I noticed they shook slightly. “I'm so grateful for all the work being done by the church to fix it up. With a little effort, it will be quite comfortable.”

“I'm glad. When Papa was well he took good care of it. But after he got sick, I'm afraid it fell into disrepair. I tried to keep it up, but I was so busy caring for him and working that after a while I just gave up.” I was concentrating on filling
the salt shaker, and when I looked up, I saw her grimace, the way someone might when they're in pain.

“Are you all right? Is something wrong?”

She shook her head and put her hand on her stomach. “I'm a little sensitive to milk. Ice cream upsets my stomach some.”

I frowned at her. “I'm so sorry. If I'd known . . .”

She waved her hand at me. “It's okay. Some things are worth the pain.”

I grinned at her. “I'm exactly the same way with dairy products. But I have no plans to give up ice cream. Life without ice cream? Can't imagine it.”

Margaret nodded. “I agree.”

“I do stay away from milk though. Never did care much for it. Even when I was a little girl. Of course, most of that probably comes from the way it affects me.”

“My mother tried to make me drink milk when I was young, thinking it was good for me. She didn't realize how uncomfortable it made me.”

“The same thing happened to me,” I said. “It made my mother feel bad when she realized I was allergic.”

Margaret didn't respond, she just looked at me in an odd way. That prickly feeling returned, and before I realized it, I'd filled the shaker too full, and salt ran over the side. I tore my gaze away from the strange woman and concentrated on cleaning up the mess I'd made. My stomach turned over, and it had nothing to do with milk.

“I-I'm sorry I stare at you so much,” Margaret stuttered, noticing my reaction. “It's just that you remind me of someone. A woman I knew in Missouri.”

“Really? I hope she was a friend.”

“I guess she was a friend once. In a manner of speaking.”

Not knowing what to say, I just smiled and moved on to the next table. Although my back was to her, I heard her clear her throat.

“She had red curly hair, just like yours. And her eyes were blue. Bluer than yours. Your eyes are more grayish-blue, I guess. She was a beautiful woman, but she didn't value herself very much. She had a sad life full of wrong choices.”

“I'm sorry.”

“You're a very attractive young woman. Are you aware of that, Callie?”

I turned to look at her, startled by her declaration. “Me? Attractive?” I shook my head. “I don't see myself like that.” I found her words odd, since Mennonites are raised not to think about outer beauty. In fact, in our community, even looking in a mirror is discouraged. Papa and I didn't have any mirrors in our house. Whether it was because of our Mennonite beliefs or because of my mother, I was never sure. Papa told me once that Mama was very proud of her looks, and that her lack of humility drove her from us.

Margaret shook her head slowly. “You're wrong, Callie. You're not only beautiful on the inside, kind and compassionate, but you're physically beautiful as well.” There was a hint of sadness in her voice. “Beauty isn't anything to be ashamed of, as long as you don't let it become your identity.”

I had to wonder why she'd said that. With that awful scar, it was impossible to tell if she'd ever been attractive. Even without it, her eyes were sunken, shadowed underneath by dark rings, and there was almost no color in her cheeks. I tried to imagine her much younger, and without the scar, but I just couldn't.

“Excuse me a moment, will you?” I left to finish filling the
shakers on the other tables. It took several minutes. When I turned back to check on Margaret, I saw that Ruth Fisher was sitting with her. They seemed to be engaged in a very animated conversation. I breathed a sigh of relief, grateful to have been given a way out of our awkward conversation.

I was getting ready to carry the salt and pepper containers back to the kitchen when I heard the sound of an automobile engine outside the restaurant. I glanced toward the window and saw the sheriff's car stop just outside the door. I hurried back to the kitchen.

“They're here,” I told Lizzie.

We stared at each other, neither one of us making a move toward the door.

“Whatever they say, we'll get through this, Callie,” Lizzie said. “We'll be okay.”

She put down the piece of steak she'd been breading and hastily washed her hands. As I waited for her, I wondered if her words would prove to be true. Or if what was waiting for us would change Kingdom forever.

Lizzie and I rushed into the dining room
and watched out the window as Levi's buggy pulled up to the railing in front of the restaurant. He jumped out and tied up his horse, Stormy, while the other men climbed out and waited for the sheriff to join them. Two men got out of the car, the sheriff and Roger Carson. Everyone in the dining room was unusually quiet as the men walked single file up the steps and entered the room. I was alarmed at the expression on Levi's face. Although his cheeks were ruddy from the cold, beneath them, his skin was ashen. The look in his eyes made my breath catch in my throat.

Lizzie and I stood there as if our feet were glued to the floor. There wasn't a sound from those gathered in the room. Before the sheriff had the chance to speak, the front door opened and another group of people shuffled inside. Most likely the folks who'd been waiting at Harold's or Aaron's. Some of them quickly found a seat. The rest stood expectantly near the back of the room.

I wanted to hear about the woman on the road—yet I didn't. At that moment, I wished I were somewhere else. Anywhere else. I wondered if Lizzie felt the same way. I snuck
a look at her. Her face was set like flint, and I couldn't tell what she was thinking.

“Well?” she said finally.

Sheriff Timmons removed his hat. Roger stepped up next to him, almost as if he were trying to offer support. He cast a quick glance around the room, looking rather uncomfortable until he saw Noah. Having a friend nearby appeared to relax him a little.

“She was definitely murdered,” the sheriff said slowly. “It's too early to conclude that this is the work of the serial killer I told you about, but I certainly can't rule it out. The KBI has taken over the case and will make that official determination.” He spoke without hesitation, but it was obvious there was something else on his mind. I tried to catch Levi's eye, but he wouldn't meet my gaze.

“You're not telling us everything,” Lizzie said bluntly. “What is it? Is she one of us?”

Their silence alarmed me. The men looked back and forth at each other. Sheriff Timmons began to say something when the door to the restaurant opened, and Harold Eberly rushed in.

“John Lapp said he was turned away on the road out of town. Some men, official types, told him he couldn't use the road, Sheriff,” Harold said in a loud, angry voice. “Many of us need to get to our homes. Why are we being forced to stay in town?”

The young sheriff frowned at Harold. “I'm sorry, but the KBI has closed the road until they finish gathering evidence. Shouldn't be too long.”

“My little girl has been through enough,” Harold insisted. “She needs to go home.”

I heard Lizzie grunt. “Harold Eberly, you hush up. A
woman has died. I don't think asking you to hang around for a while is out of line.”

Harold's mouth dropped open, but instead of arguing with Lizzie, he turned and stomped out the door. He probably realized that trying to win an argument with Lizzie was an almost impossible task.

When the door closed behind him, she hurried over and locked it. Then she gazed slowly around the room. “I'm not planning to kick anyone out,” she said, “but if you came here out of some kind of morbid curiosity, I'd like you to leave. People of faith should be showing respect, not acting like the world.”

A few people hung their heads, and I marveled at her boldness. After several seconds, she pointed at the sheriff, who was staring at her in surprise. “Okay, so what are you keeping back? Do we know her?”

Noah, who had been watching this scene unfold from a corner table stood to his feet and came over to stand near his brother and Roger.

“It's not anyone from Kingdom,” Levi said in a low, strained tone. “She's a stranger.” Even though I was thankful for the good news, his solemn manner frightened me.

“Levi, what's going on?” Noah asked.

Although it seemed to take great effort, Levi lifted his eyes to his brother's. “Do . . . do you remember the book of martyrs I lost a few weeks ago?”

“Yes,” Noah said slowly, looking confused. “What about it?”

Levi seemed incapable of continuing. Finally Noah looked over at the sheriff. “What's he talking about?”

Sheriff Timmons took a deep breath and let it out. “The dead woman— Levi's book was clutched in her hands.”

No one said a word for what seemed like hours but was surely only a few seconds. For some reason all I could do was stare at the young sheriff. His eyes were locked on mine, and I couldn't break my gaze away. When Lizzie spoke, it finally shook me out of the strange stupor that had overtaken me.

“Are you saying you think Levi killed someone?” The incredulity in her voice triggered a reaction inside me.

“That's ridiculous,” I sputtered, finally finding my voice. “Are you insane? How could you—”

“Callie!”

Levi's harsh tone startled me. “But this man—”

Roger took a step forward. His normally ruddy complexion was redder than normal. “The sheriff isn't saying Levi killed that girl,” he said in a soothing tone. “He's simply trying to find out what happened. Of course Levi had nothing to do with this. But we do need to figure out why the book was found at the crime scene.”

“How can you be sure it was your book, Levi?” Lizzie asked. “I know the book you mean. There are quite a few copies in Kingdom.”

Levi sighed. “It's mine, Lizzie. It has my name written on it.”

I started to say something, but Sheriff Timmons raised his hand. “Please, everyone, calm down. If your pastor had anything to do with this, he'd have to be the stupidest man alive. The book wasn't accidentally left at the scene of the crime. It was purposely put into the dead woman's hands. Unless he wanted to be caught, no murderer would do something that dumb.”

“Of course he wouldn't,” I said. “But why would anyone put Levi's book there?”

“That's the question we're asking,” Timmons said. “I wish I had the answer, but I don't. Not yet.”

He glanced around at our obviously concerned expressions. “Try not to worry. I don't believe anyone thinks Levi is a viable suspect. If this is the work of the serial killer, twenty years ago Levi was only a child. He couldn't have been running around the county killing women. One of the KBI agents said that, in his opinion, the book was an afterthought. Like the killer decided at the last minute to put it there.” He frowned at Levi. “But I have to warn you, Pastor, the authorities will question you. They're going to want to know how the killer got that book and why he felt the need to leave it at the scene. Right now, your book might be the strongest piece of evidence they have. Finding out how it got there could lead them to their suspect.”

Levi nodded but stayed silent. I wanted to forget decorum, run over, and wrap my arms around him. But propriety kept me from following my emotions. It hurt that I couldn't offer him any consolation.

“I'll do whatever I can to help them catch the man who did this,” Levi said in an even tone. “I doubt there's any information I have that will help, but I'll certainly try.”

“I know you will,” the sheriff said. He gazed around the packed room. “Most of you will be interviewed too. We need to know who came down that road and when. You might have noticed something that will help our investigation. Even if you don't realize it.”

“I don't know, Sheriff,” Noah said, frowning. “She would have been hard to see. Anyone driving a buggy—or a truck that sits high like mine—could have easily missed her. And with the snow—”

“I'm aware of that,” the sheriff said. “It's possible several people went right past her without realizing she was there. We still need to know everyone who drove down that road between late last night and this morning, before she was discovered.” He nodded toward Roger. “My deputy will be interviewing you. Please give him your information—and the names of anyone else that might have been out there during the time in question.” He looked out at the crowd. “All we can do is try our best to uncover the truth. Anything you can remember—especially anything unusual—could really help us.”

The silence that followed the sheriff's statement made it clear that people were already turning the sheriff's request over in their minds.

“Have you found any clues?” Lizzie asked. “Anything that might point to the killer?”

Timmons shrugged. “There are all kinds of things out on the road near the victim,” he said. “We've found scraps of papers and material. A bottle opener, two pencils, and a pen. Some change. We're keeping all of it, but so far, we don't have anything that connects us to any certain suspect.”

“Harold said you closed the road outside of town?”

“
I
didn't. The KBI did. No one can travel that way until the KBI decides to open it again.”

“It's not just Harold who goes home that way,” I said. “Many of our people live outside the town itself. Especially the farmers. How long must they stay here?”

He shook his head. “I don't know. One of the agents promised he'd let me know as soon as the road is clear.”

“That means you're stuck too,” Lizzie said.

The sheriff nodded. “I hope that won't be a problem.”

“Don't be silly,” Noah said. “You're welcome here.”

“Of course you are.”

I jumped at the sound of Jonathon's voice. I'd forgotten he and Ebbie had gone with Levi. Although Jonathon seemed to be handling the situation well, Ebbie was quiet. Too quiet. Sadness was etched into his features. His usual smile had been replaced with something dark and sorrowful. It hurt me to look at him. Ebbie was such a tender man, easily touched by the pain of others. He caught me staring at him and turned toward the door.

“I've got to tell Hope I'm back,” he said softly. He tried the door, but it was still locked. After bumbling around with it for a moment, Noah stepped over and turned the lock. He put his hand on Ebbie's shoulder for just a brief moment. It was a sweet gesture of comfort and brought tears to my eyes. We could get through this. As a family. I pulled my shoulders back and tried to sound determined.

“If folks can't get home, they'll probably want something to eat,” I pointed out. “Are we ready to serve that many people?”

Lizzie put her hand to her forehead. “It's all prepared, but I'm going to need some help.”

“What can I do?” Noah asked.

Lizzie seemed to come to life. “First of all, would you drive over to my parents' house? Tell them to keep Charity until we come for her. Warn them that it might be late. I don't want her anywhere near here right now.”

“I'll have to tell them what's going on,” Noah said slowly. “Your father will probably run right over, searching for information.”

Lizzie shrugged. “If he does, he does. I'll deal with him
if that happens. My mother can watch Charity. She's good with her.”

“Okay. I'll take care of it, and I'll be back as soon as I can so I can help you serve.” He grabbed Lizzie's hand. “Don't worry. Everything will be fine.” He quickly kissed her forehead. Then he grabbed his coat from the rack near the front door and left.

Lizzie blinked several times and looked at me with tears in her eyes. “I hope he's right. I really do.” With that, she turned around and headed for the kitchen.

I realized Sheriff Timmons was still standing in the middle of the room with Roger. He looked decidedly uncomfortable. Before I had a chance to say anything, Levi walked up to him.

“Why don't you and Roger have dinner with us, Sheriff?” he said. “Lizzie's a great cook.”

Timmons looked relieved. “Thank you, Pastor. I'd appreciate that. Didn't have time for lunch today, so I must admit to being a little hungry.”

“Thanks, Levi,” Roger said. “One of Lizzie's amazing meals is just the ticket. While I'm waiting, I'll start taking statements.”

Levi pointed toward an empty table. The sheriff walked over and sat down while Roger began circulating through the room with a notebook. I hoped people would talk to him. Right now folks seemed more interested in studying the new sheriff than in listening to anything Roger might have to say. I was proud of Levi for caring about the young lawman's feelings, even in a tense situation like this. I hurried over to the table.

“What can I get you, Sheriff?”

He smiled at me. “What do you recommend, Miss—”

“It's Callie. Just Callie.”

He took off his hat and set it on the chair next to him. “Okay, just Callie. What do you recommend?”

I smiled at his joke. Under the circumstances, it was a little hard to feel relaxed, but he'd managed to lighten the atmosphere just a little.

“Some nights, like tonight, Lizzie focuses on a few special dishes. We've got meat loaf, fried chicken, and chicken-fried steak. But if you want a hamburger, a sandwich, or a steak, she can make that for you.”

“I recommend the chicken-fried steak,” Levi said. “It's incredible. Just thinking about it makes me hungry.”

“I love chicken-fried steak,” the sheriff said. “Haven't had one for a long time. You two just talked me into it.”

“Good choice.”

“You might as well order the same thing for Roger,” Levi said with a smile. “You know that's what he wants.”

I nodded and wrote it down on my note pad. Roger ordered chicken-fried steak whenever it was on the menu. I was on my way to the kitchen when I heard the front door open. The wind had picked up and it blew through the room, knocking napkins off tables and rattling the windows. Snow swept past the entrance and onto the floor, where it quickly melted while the flames in the fireplace danced wildly. Aaron Metcalf closed the door as quickly as he could. I waved at him and then hurried back to the kitchen where Lizzie was busy cooking up a storm.