Plain Dead (15 page)

“Go ahead.” Rachel waved her away. “I have to run, anyway. I'm supposed to pick up Mary Aaron at her house and I'm going to be late, and I have a casserole in my Jeep I need to drop off at my parents' house.”

Why Ada was sending food to the Mast kitchen, Rachel couldn't imagine. There was always a ton of food at her mother's house. Ada and her mother knew each other, of course, but they'd never been close friends. Weird or not, though, it was best to do what she was told when it came to her often eccentric cook. Without Ada she couldn't imagine how she would manage to keep her guests provided with such wonderful fare or how she would keep her cleaning staff on time and on task. Ada might be prickly, but she was invaluable.

When Rachel stepped out of the gym, she found that it was snowing again. Big, lazy flakes fell on her as she crossed the parking lot. The snow didn't seem to worry the festival visitors. Dozens of people, bundled in coats, mufflers, gloves, and hats, were noisily making their way toward the building. She reached the Jeep and started to open the door, then noticed a sheet of paper affixed to the windshield by the left wiper. She pulled the paper free and slid into the front seat.

Starting the Jeep first, she then unfolded the single sheet of cheap, lined paper. Her heart skipped a beat as she stared at the hand-printed message, written in pencil in plain block letters.

The threatening note felt like it was burning a hole in Rachel's pocket all the way to Mary Aaron's. Who would write such a thing? Was it the killer, or someone who simply resented her questions? Was she a nosy busybody doing more harm than good in the community? Traditionally, the Amish liked to keep their lives private and didn't appreciate anyone prying into their affairs.

By the same token, who did? Certainly not Blade. He'd been angry with her. But Blade was out of town. And the wording on the warning had been odd, stilted. Who would write
Mind your own beeswax?

She wondered if she needed to tell Evan about the note. Was the note evidence? Of course, if she did share it, she'd have to admit that she was doing what he'd explicitly told her not to do. She was still trying to track down clues that might lead to Billingsly's killer. Telling him that she'd disregarded his request would only make things worse between them and might push their relationship to the breaking point.

Did she tell Mary Aaron? By the time she pulled into her cousin's barnyard, she'd decided she'd sit on it for a little while. Think it over.

“I have this casserole to deliver to my mother,” Rachel explained to Mary Aaron as the two made their way down her uncle's snow-clogged lane. “And then I think we've got time to drive back to Joe Paul Kurtz's place and ask him about the top-hack buggy. See if he or some of his family drove it to town on Saturday night.”

“No need,” Mary Aaron replied. “I've been asking around, and Alan says Joe Paul drove his top-hack into a ditch and broke the axle Saturday morning. Alan knows because he helped him get his groceries and grain home. They tied the horse to the back of Alan's buggy and left Joe Paul's buggy at Shorty Beachy's place until they can get another axle.”

Rachel frowned. “Alan was sure the top-hack couldn't be driven?”

“Positive. You know how long it takes to get replacement parts and put them on.”

Rachel concentrated on steering the Jeep down the lane. Some of the snow had melted, leaving deep puddles, and some had drifted across the drive so that she had to put the vehicle into second gear and then first to get through without getting stuck. “Which brings us back to Bishop Abner's buggy.”

Mary Aaron folded her gloved hands in her lap. “Maybe Blade was mistaken. He must have been.” When Rachel didn't say anything, Mary Aaron gazed out the window. “Why is Ada sending food for your mother?”

Mary Aaron looked cute today in a new sky blue dress and matching wool head scarf. As usual, Rachel felt like the poor cousin in her worn denim jumper and thick black stockings. Both wore almost identical navy coats; Rachel never wore her white parka when visiting Amish family or friends. The plain coats were thick, with lining against the cold, but where Mary Aaron's coat was neatly stitched and fit her perfectly, Rachel's own coat had seen better days. There was a three-cornered tear and a dark stain on the sleeve where one of the goats had chewed it, and some of the hem in the back was coming out. She supposed that she'd have to ask one of her sisters to mend it again, or maybe she could bargain with her brother Paul's wife, Miriam, to sew her a new one. Miriam's skill with a needle was legendary in a community where most women learned to sew well as children.
Another of my character flaws,
Rachel mused.
Not only do I not mind my own beeswax, but I will be a failure if my future husband needs a button sewn on.

“I have no idea why Ada made it. But you know how she is.”

“Right.” Mary Aaron laughed. “You just do what she says. The fewer questions, the better.”

“I'm just going to run in the casserole,” Rachel said when she pulled into her father's farmyard. “Who knows? If
Mam
's alone in the kitchen, she might be forced to speak to me.”

Mary Aaron looked dubious. “Doubt it,” she replied. “Your mother is as stubborn as my father, and you know how far you got when you tried to talk him into doing something he didn't want to do.” Mary Aaron's father was her mother's favorite brother, and the two shared a lot of characteristics.

Rachel opened the door to get out, and her brother Moses came out of the house and down the back step. With him was her brother Levi. Rachel called out to them and the two waved. Moses lived on his father-in-law's farm nearby. “Is
Mam
in the kitchen?” she asked.

Moses pointed to the woodshed and said something that Rachel couldn't make out to Levi, then walked over to the car. Levi waved to her and headed for the shed.

“
Mam
and the girls went to the basket auction at the English school,” Moses said. “House is empty.”

Mary Aaron greeted the boys and then said to Rachel, “I'll take the casserole in.”

“Thanks.” Rachel turned her attention back to her brother. “Why aren't you at the school? Who's driving the horses and sleigh? Remember, I told you about the TV crew filming a piece on the Winter Frolic today at three. Evan and I promised to be in it. They want to feature the horse-drawn sleigh.”

“John Hannah's filling in for me today.” He rubbed at his beard. “I don't want my picture on the television. And you know John Hannah. He's not strict about having his photo taken. He'll probably show off for the camera. I'll go in after supper with a fresh team. That was a good idea of yours, to give sleigh rides to the tourists. They pay a lot to ride behind a horse, them Englishers.” He grinned. “Lucky it's been cold enough so the snow hasn't melted.”

“I'm glad it's a success,” Rachel said. “How's Ruth? Is she well?”

“Right as rain. I've got some news you haven't heard,” Moses told Rachel proudly. “Ruth and I will be welcoming a new member to the family by harvest.”

“Wonderful,” Rachel exclaimed, clapping her mittened hands together. “You both must be thrilled.” She knew that her brother and his wife had been praying for a baby ever since they'd married several years earlier.

“We're really happy about it,” he admitted shyly. “Ruth's parents are beside themselves. Naturally, her father is hoping for a boy. As for me and Ruthie, all we pray for is that the baby be born healthy.” He quickly added, “Of course, we'll love it, no matter what.”

Levi came back out of the woodshed carrying an armload of kindling.

“Two more trips,” Moses ordered their younger brother. “And make the next two bigger pieces of wood. There's no excuse for
Mam
's wood box to be empty.” He returned his attention to Rachel. “Levi will get out of chores if you let him. Always has his nose stuck in a book. Just because he's the youngest boy is no excuse for not pulling his weight.”

“And I suppose you never goofed off?”

“I liked playing well enough. Remember the time Paul and I tried to put a saddle on the bull?”

“Let's hope your baby has more sense than that,” Rachel teased.

Levi came back out of the house and started to walk toward them, but Moses pointed to the woodshed. “More wood.”

Feet dragging, Levi went for another load.

Moses grinned proudly. “You know how Ruthie loves babies. She's hoping for a round dozen. She was just saying last night . . .” Moses, being the most garrulous of her brothers, chatted on.

Rachel smiled and nodded. While big families were the custom among her people, her own wishes were more modest. Two or maybe three children would be fine with her, providing she ever married.

When Moses paused for a breath, she jumped in. As much as she would hate to admit it, her mind had wandered a bit while her brother had been talking about babies. “I know this is going to sound odd,
Mosey,
but do you know of any men who have recently lost a hat?” She deliberately used the childhood nickname that he'd favored when he was Levi's age. “Not a straw hat,” she elaborated, “but a black dress one? Maybe someone mentioned it in passing?”

“A hat?” He removed his own navy stocking cap, ran his fingers through his hair, replaced the knit hat, and pulled it down over his ears. Moses's hair was a decent dark brown, but his close-cropped curly beard and sideburns were a bright auburn.

“
Ne.
How would anybody lose his hat? Maybe mislay it in the house, but it's not like you take it off unless you're in church or eating at someone's table.” He shrugged. “You're right. It is a strange question. Why do you ask?”

“You talking about Sammy's hat?” Levi approached the Jeep from the passenger's side, his arms full of log sections.

“Sammy's hat?” Rachel repeated, confused.

Levi flashed a mischievous grin and shifted the weight in his arms. “Sure. There was one in the snow by the house where the dead man was. I picked it up and gave it back to Sammy.”

Rachel's mouth gaped. “But I sent you and Danny back to the house. How could you—”

Levi made a face. “We went, but I wanted another look at the body. I saw the hat, and I picked it up.”

“How did you know the hat belonged to Sammy?”

“Easy.” Levi's grin widened. “He's really forgetful. Always leaving his hat somewhere. He does it so often that Naamah sewed his name into it.”

Chapter 14

“What time this afternoon did you say you and Evan are doing the piece for the television station?” Mary Aaron asked as they left Rachel's parents' house.

“Three.” She glanced in the rearview mirror. “I was thinking about running by Abner's on the way back to town.”

“But you
are
going home to change before you meet the film crew, right?” Mary Aaron asked. “Because you can't be seen on TV in that getup.” She indicated Rachel's skirt and scarf. “Not much of a hotel-owner look.” She chuckled. “And certainly not Amish. You'll give us a bad name.”

Rachel moved to the center of the blacktop and passed a mail truck pulled over, putting mail in her parents' neighbors' mailbox. “I keep thinking about what happened with Billingsly.”

“Of course you do. Everybody's talking about you questioning people, about the buggy and the hat.
Mam
is worried about you. It's awful that such a thing could happen in Stone Mill, but you don't have to be the one to find the murderer. Not this time. That's the job of the policemen and Evan. Evan especially.”

“Whose side are you on, Mary Aaron?”

“So there are sides now? It should never be that way.” Mary Aaron's tone became more serious. “I'm here, right? But I'm not going to hold my tongue. I'll tell you if I think you're going too far. I care about you, and I don't want to see you make enemies in the valley.”

“You don't understand.” Rachel threw her a long look.

A deer leaped over the fence just ahead of them, touched down once, and then gave another big leap and vanished into the woods on the far side of the blacktop. Rachel braked.

“Good reflexes.” Mary Aaron glanced at Rachel again. “So why are we going to Bishop Abner's again?”

Rachel lowered her voice. “Because of something Levi told me back at the house. The missing hat. I found out who it belonged to. It was Sammy Zook's.”

“Sammy's?” Mary Aaron frowned. “I'm surprised Bishop Abner would have taken his wife and nephew to Billingsly's house.”

Rachel shook her head. “I don't know that he did. I didn't see them there. And when I saw the hat at Billingsly's house, it was half buried in the snow. It looked as if it had been there at least a good part of the night. Turns out,” she said, all in a rush, “it was our Levi who took it. He and Danny followed me to Billingsly's. I told them to go home, but at some point, Levi picked up the hat, saw Sammy's name sewn in the inside, and took it with him. Levi told me that he dropped it off at the Chupps' on his way home.”

“On Sunday?” Mary Aaron asked.

“Yes. But remember when I asked Naamah and Bishop Abner about the hat, neither of them said a word about Sammy having lost his. Isn't that strange?”

Mary Aaron sighed. “Not really. Sammy's always leaving his hat somewhere. He left it under the bench at services last week and at the feed mill the week before. And you asked about a man's hat.”

“Sammy's hat
is
a man's hat.” Rachel tightened her grip on the steering wheel. She didn't like the idea that Bishop Abner could have been involved in the murder of Billingsly any more than Mary Aaron did, but if there was one thing she'd learned after the murder of Willy O'Day, it was that you never know what a person might do when he feels as if he's been pushed to the brink. “It wasn't snowing on Sunday morning. Sammy had to have lost it Saturday or sometime in the night.”

“So Sammy Zook's hat was in the yard. So what? That doesn't prove anything. It doesn't prove he was there. Maybe the wind blew it there. It was a snowstorm,” Mary Aaron reminded. “Lots of wind that night. Sammy might have lost it at the ice rink or the school, anywhere, and it blew there.”

“And the hat happened to end up in the yard of a man who was murdered?” When her cousin didn't answer, Rachel said, “It's considered circumstantial evidence.”

“I don't think this
circumstantial evidence
means anything. Circumstantial evidence says
you
could have killed Billingsly.”

“But we know I didn't,” Rachel insisted, “which means we have to look at what other directions the evidence points us.”

Mary Aaron rolled her eyes. “You think that Sammy Zook went to Billingsly's house—an Englishman he doesn't know—dragged him outside, tied him up, and poured water on him so that he froze to death? And then turned out all the lights in the house and locked the doors on his way out? That's
lecherich
. Ridiculous. Sammy wouldn't hurt a flea. And honestly, if he wanted to hurt a flea, he wouldn't know to tie it to a front porch and pour water over it.” She reached out and touched Rachel's shoulder. “I wish you hadn't seen that dead body. You're usually so sensible, but I—”

“I don't think Sammy killed Billingsly,” Rachel interrupted, not liking her cousin's tone. She wasn't being irrational; she was being the opposite. She wasn't letting the fact that she liked Bishop Abner, practically adored him, get in the way of the facts. “Mary Aaron, I think Billingsly's murder was very personal. Someone hated him enough or was afraid of him enough to do that to him.” She stared at the road ahead of her. “Maybe Sammy was there. He might have witnessed the murder.”

“And what would Sammy be doing out at night alone? You know Naamah and Bishop Abner watch over him like he was a little child—which, for the most part, he is. Naamah says he's afraid of the dark. He won't sleep without a light in his room. Which worries her because he wants a lamp on at night.”

“My point exactly,” Rachel insisted. “Sammy wouldn't have been there alone. If he was there, someone he knew and was comfortable with took him there.”

Mary Aaron's eyes widened. “No, you can't think that.... You've known Abner all your life, Rachel. You know what a good and wise man he is. How kind. You can't really think that he could be involved in murder.”

Rachel lifted her foot off the gas as they approached a patch of ice on the road. This time of year, the snowplows came by more than once a day. It was good that they cleared the snow, but it sometimes resulted in sheets of ice on the pavement that were more dangerous than the snow. It was at times like this that she was glad that after she lost her old Jeep to the depths of the rock quarry the summer before, she'd made the decision to buy the same four-wheel-drive vehicle, despite its hefty price.

Clear of the ice, she slowly accelerated and glanced at her cousin. “Have you ever heard any rumors about Abner and an English woman? It would be some time ago, twelve, thirteen years? Someone told me that after his first wife died, there was a scandal involving him and—”

“An Englisher woman?
Ne,
I never heard such a thing. Bishop Abner is a man of God. He would never—”

“My source, a reliable one, told me that he did. And that Abner and this woman had a baby together.”

“Why would you listen to such malicious gossip about our bishop?” Mary Aaron asked, clearly angry. She took a breath and put her hand on Rachel's forearm. When she spoke again, the anger was gone. “I don't want to exchange harsh words with you. Maybe you should take me home. Maybe this isn't a good time for us.”

“This isn't easy for me either, Mary Aaron. Abner is my friend, has been my friend. But the person who shared this with me is no idle gossip.”

“Hulda.” Mary Aaron sat back on the seat, crossing her arms. “But why would she say such a thing?”

“Maybe because it's true. Billingsly was an evil man. He hurt a lot of people. Look what he did to the Herschbergers. He ruined their lives. Maybe Billingsly found out about Abner and the Englishwoman and threatened to tell everyone. Think what it would do to the bishop's reputation . . . and what Englishers would say about the Amish.”

“But . . . if such a thing did happen, why wouldn't I have heard it? Never. Not a word.”

“Think about it, Mary Aaron. You were in school then. You weren't keeping company with the mothers and young wives and older women, circles where it might have been discussed. No one would have said anything about the bishop's misdeeds to a schoolgirl.”

“
Ya,
” Mary Aaron admitted. “That's true.” She shook her head. “But I still don't know if I believe it.”

“I've always thought that Abner was one of the best men I've ever known, but he's human,” Rachel said softly. “Humans make mistakes.”

“I really don't think this is your business, Rachel. All this prying, it's not good for anyone. You might hurt someone by falsely accusing them. I'm sure there is a good reason for Sammy's hat being there. And it doesn't prove anything. I think you need to worry about yourself.” Mary Aaron hesitated. “I didn't tell you, but . . . yesterday, at the B&B, when you were at Coyote and Blade's house, Evan called me there.”

“You spoke to Evan?”

“
Ya.
He's worried about you, too.” Mary Aaron sighed. “He told me that he didn't think you were taking the matter of Billingsly's murder and your whereabouts at the time seriously. He's afraid he's going to have to take you in for questioning. Officially. He's concerned about how that will look for the festival. And the whole town. He's worried about your reputation.”

“So Evan told you he thinks I might be the murderer?” She didn't really believe it, but her feelings were ruffled, too, and the thought that he'd discussed her with Mary Aaron didn't make her any happier.

“
Ne,
you know better than that. Of course he doesn't think you killed Billingsly. Evan loves you.”

“I'm not so sure about that.” Rachel chewed on her lower lip. “Things are not so good between us right now.”

“Which will pass. No one is themself in the town right now.” Mary Aaron's gaze met hers. “There is a lot of responsibility on Evan's shoulders. It is his job to find this killer, not yours. And I think he feels you don't trust him to do it.”

Rachel took a deep breath. She'd had no intention of talking about this with Mary Aaron, but she needed her to understand that Evan was telling the truth when he said the evidence pointed to her. She needed her cousin to understand why it was important that she find out who did this to Billingsly. And quickly.

She signaled and pulled over into a driveway and put her Jeep in park. “There's more to this than you realize,” she said, turning to face her cousin. “I've got something in my past, something I did while I was away . . . something I never wanted anyone to know. But Billingsly found out, and he threatened to expose me. He was going to write about it in his nasty gossip column in the paper. He said it would ruin my name in the community, ruin my business. I was very angry with him Saturday night when I went to his house.”

“You were not angry enough to kill him.” Mary Aaron unbuckled her seat belt, slid over, and put her arms around Rachel. She hugged her. “You don't have to tell me. I'll pray for you, that this burden is eased in your heart. But you don't have to say any more; I don't need to know, cousin. You are a good person, and nothing you could tell me would ever make me stop loving you.”

A lump rose in Rachel's throat, and she blinked against the rising moisture in her eyes that threatened to cloud her vision. “What would I do without you?” she murmured, hugging Mary Aaron.

“Or me without you. You know you are closer to me than my blood sisters.” She grew firm again. “But I'm serious about this. You need to back off and let the police ask the questions.”

“You and Evan aren't the only ones who think so.” When Mary Aaron gave her a quizzical look, Rachel pulled the note out of her coat pocket and handed it to her. “I found this on the windshield of my Jeep this morning.”

“In your yard?”

Rachel shook her head. “At the school parking lot. Someone left the message where I would be sure to find it when I came out of the gym.”

Mary Aaron lips moved as she silently read the note again. “This scares me, Rae-Rae. You need to show Evan this.”

“I intend to. Just not yet. Like you said, I still don't have any real evidence. I really want to try and straighten this out with Abner, to find out where Sammy was Saturday night and why. I have some questions for Sammy, too.”

“Now who's being stubborn? And you talk about your mother. I can see the apple doesn't fall far from the tree,” Mary Aaron fussed. “If I had any sense, I would make you let me out of the Jeep. I've just started my baptism classes, and I'm going to get in so much trouble for doing this with you again.”

Rachel glanced at her in surprise. “You're taking lessons? You're going to be baptized into the church?”

“You know there was never any question about that. I just haven't decided when yet. But I may as well do the studies. They run for months, and I'll have to do it before I marry.”

“And Timothy? Does he want you to attend this year's sessions?”

“
Ya,
he does. He's already told his family that he's ready. You know
Mam
and
Dat
want me to make the commitment, to the church and Timothy. They say it's time I quit running around and grow up.” She gave a little smile as she slid back over and buckled her seat belt. “I think they think you're a bad influence on me.”

“Maybe I am,” Rachel agreed. “I don't want to be. And I do hope I'm mistaken about Bishop Abner. But he didn't tell me the truth about staying home on Saturday night, and when people aren't truthful, you can't help but be suspicious.” She offered her cousin a smile. “Besides, we did some good work last summer, didn't we? When we went to New Orleans looking for Hannah Verkler?” She looked both ways and pulled out onto the road again.