Read Shunned and Dangerous (An Amish Mystery) Online
Authors: Laura Bradford
Shunned and Dangerous (An Amish Mystery) (24 page)
“Former ties to the land?” she echoed as the room began to spin to the cadence of Patrick’s voice.
See that window right there? That’s where my father’s bullet came from. The one that killed Harley’s brother. He stood on a rock in my grandfather’s yard and took the shot. Only took one from what the pape
rs
said
.
She sucked in her breath a second time as Vanessa confirmed the pivotal piece of information Claire had missed only twenty-four hours earlier. “Part of this property was hers—left to her by her now-deceased parents. Trey could have made this place work without her land, but it would have meant rerouting crucial lines and adding to his costs in the long run.”
“And this deal was contingent on the first person he signed?”
“Pretty much, yeah. Unfortunately, as Trey says, when you’re dealing with someone with no real cash flow, they can make your life miserable.”
Suddenly, everything she’d thought she knew had been turned on its head. Still, though, she asked the question that was more about buying time to catch her breath than anything else. “Why?”
Vanessa checked the time on her computer once again and then began stacking the marketing folders in a neat pile on her desk in preparation for the looming five o’clock hour. “Because they don’t have a whole lot of patience the way people with money do.”
T
here was so much about Rita as Harley’s murderer that made sense in light of everything Claire’d just learned from Vanessa. Like her husband, Carl, Rita Duggan was no fan of the Amish, either, seeing them as the reason she lost the man she married.
In fact, thinking back to things Patrick had said over the past few days, it was obvious that the hatred he’d been raised with didn’t fall on his father’s shoulders alone. And if that same hatred was a powerful enough motive to propel Carl to murder, it was more than conceivable that same latent hatred, coupled with a desire for revenge and an opportunity to gain in the process, could have pushed the man’s wife to do the same.
The only problem that remained was whether Patrick had known about his mother’s intentions. If he had and he’d said nothing, he’d have to live with that the rest of his life. If he’d known and somehow aided her in the crime, he’d be charged as an accomplice. Either way, his life was shattered by hatred—a hatred that had been all but willed to him by the same two people who should have wanted better for their son.
Claire drove through downtown Heavenly, the darkened front window of Heavenly Treasures off to her left a painful reminder of the mess she was trying to avoid by playing detective. Several car lengths later, the sight of the police station on her right reminded her of the phone call she was glad she hadn’t made from the parking lot of Serenity Falls. She’d been wrong once already in suspecting Trey Sampson, there was no guarantee she wouldn’t be adding yet another mistake to her tally sheet with Rita Duggan.
The motive was powerful and the means every bit as strong for Rita as they’d been for her husband sixteen years earlier. The only piece Claire was having trouble understanding was the location of the body.
Why kill Harley in the corn maze when all Rita had to do was walk across her own property the way Carl had?
She followed the road as it wound its way past Sleep Heavenly and into the heart of the English side of town, the lefts and rights she’d taken with Jakob easy enough to remember. Yet this time, when she stepped from the car, she was aware of a growing apprehension in the pit of her stomach. Something about Patrick had spoken to her the previous day in the same way she imagined it had spoken to Harley.
Accepting the fact that the man had been murdered out of hatred and greed was hard enough. But finding a way to wrap her head around the very real possibility that Patrick may have been involved in some way made the whole thing even more repulsive.
Harley had sought Patrick out in an effort to connect with another victim of Carl Duggan’s hatred. The last thing she wanted to believe was the notion that in reaching out, Harley had unknowingly sealed his own fate.
Inhaling every ounce of courage she could muster, Claire made her way up the wide steps that led to Rita’s front door and knocked, the answering footsteps on the other side of the door virtually instant.
“I was hoping you’d stop by . . .” Rita’s eyes narrowed on Claire. “What do you want?”
She peered past the gray-haired woman and noted the pair of suitcases lined up neatly just inside the front entryway. “Did I catch you at a bad time?”
“As a matter of fact, yes, you did.” Rita pushed past Claire long enough to survey the road in both directions, offering up an angered groan in the process. “I’m expecting someone any minute and I really don’t have time for unnecessary distractions.”
“I’m sure Trey will be along anytime now.”
Rita tilted her head to the side yet gave no indication she recognized the builder’s name. “If you don’t mind, I’d rather shut this door and keep that swarm of little gnats right there from comin’ into my house.”
The warning bells in Claire’s head started to go off, but she turned a deaf ear in favor of finding justice for Harley. She accepted the invitation but kept her body positioned just inside the closed door. “So? Is Patrick here?”
“No.”
“Do you expect him back soon?”
Rita’s gaze dropped to her suitcases and the single airline ticket that sat on a small end table to their left. “I expect him back sometime after I’m gone.”
Something about the woman’s voice and the glint in her steel gray eyes sent a chill down Claire’s spine. “You’re skipping out on him, aren’t you?”
“He can fend for himself just fine. I got what I needed out of him.”
“What you needed?” she echoed.
“It’s the only reason I didn’t prevent my son from working with that man.” Rita’s top lip curled with the kind of ugliness that went far beyond the exterior. “I’ve been working my tail off these past sixteen years. My parents’ land was my ticket out of that life. I needed information in order to make that happen. Patrick provided that. And in doing so I was able to take out two of them weirdos at the same time.”
“Weirdos?” She heard a faint click somewhere behind Rita, but if the woman noticed, there was no indication.
“You know who I’m talking about. Everyone knows who I’m talking about.”
“You mean the Amish?” Claire heard the anger rising in her voice, even knew on some level that it was probably best saved for when jail bars stood between them, but still, she spoke. “Frankly, you’re about the only person I’ve ever met who has a problem with the Amish. They don’t cause trouble for anyone.”
“Oh?” Rita took a menacing step forward. “You don’t think having my parents going on and on about how polite and respectful those little Amish brats were caused trouble when I was growing up? You think being compared to them morning, noon, and night was easy for a kid?”
Claire thought of Jakob and the issues with his father that pre-dated his decision to leave the Amish, the cop’s courage and strength guiding her words. “So you regroup. You make yourself proud.”
“What are you? A talk show host?” Rita spat, her face contorting in rage. “I bet you think raising that little brat by myself for the past sixteen years should have been easy, too, right?”
“You were raising him yourself because of trouble
your husband
caused. He killed an innocent man in cold blood. How can you not see that?”
“My husband wouldn’t be sitting in a jail if those Amish folks weren’t livin’ around here!” Rita took a second, bigger step toward Claire, essentially cornering her against the door with no room to run. “Those people made my childhood hell and then, when I was finally with someone who hated them as much as I did, they went and took him from me.
“But wait . . . it gets better. I finally have an opportunity to live a better life and even that almost gets ruined because of those people. Why? Because they won’t use a refrigerator like normal folk! So now
I’m
the one taking.”
“By killing the same innocent man who reached out to your son and made a difference in his life this past month or so?” Claire stopped long enough to breathe, to realize that the location of the body was all part of the plan. “And by trying to frame a second innocent man for a crime you committed?”
“They made it easy the way they follow each other around,” Rita spat. “Wanna know something? I hate do-gooder, know-it-alls like yourself. You throw your convictions around like they’re the gospel truth and they ain’t.”
“They’re a lot closer to it than yours!” She lurched forward just enough to try and secure a grip on the doorknob at her back, but it was too late. Rita’s closed hand came across Claire’s face and knocked her to the floor.
She struggled up on her elbow in an effort to retrieve her cell phone from her jacket pocket, but that, too, was smacked across the room. “You ain’t callin’ anyone. I’m not goin’ down for that man’s killin’. That other fella is.”
“You mean Mose?” she whispered.
“If that’s the name of the fella who was causin’ all that trouble at that farm, then that’s who I mean. But it don’t matter much, that just gave me someone to put it on. What
does
matter is knowin’ that sixteen years ago one of them Amish folks changed my life and I wasn’t about to sit by while that man’s brother screwed it up even more.”
“Harley didn’t screw up your life, Mom! You did that all on your own!”
She did her best to get out of Rita’s way as the woman spun around to face her son, but Claire’s reaction time was impacted by the blow to her head. Still, it didn’t matter, as Rita’s full attention was now trained on the back of the house and the broad-shouldered son who’d found a way out of the hatred.
“Don’t you talk to me like that, boy!”
“I’ve never been more ashamed to be your boy than I am at this moment. But that stops here and it stops now. With me.”
She saw Patrick step to the side as another, far more familiar shape burst into the room, gun drawn. “Rita Duggan, you are under arrest for the murder of Harley Zook.”
C
laire was just plugging the final number into the calculator when she heard Jakob at the door, his faint knock, coupled with the sound of his voice as he called her name through the screen, bringing a momentary lift to an evening with very few bright spots.
Pushing back from her desk, she stood and made her way toward the back door of her shop, the tender smile that broke across his face as she approached warming her all the way to her toes. “Isn’t this a nice surprise,” she offered as she lifted the locking pin from its holder and welcomed him inside. “I thought I was the only one working this late on a Monday night.”
“You are.” She saw his gaze harden just before his hand cupped the part of her face that still ached from Rita’s hit. “I hate that you didn’t call me and tell me where you were going. If you had, this wouldn’t have happened.”
She felt the burning prick of too many tears than she could afford to cry and blinked them away. “What matters is that Patrick called you and that you got there in time before she got away.”
The pad of his thumb glided across her cheek with a gentleness that left her wanting more despite the discomfort his touch caused. “It still hurts, doesn’t it?”
At her shrug, he retracted his hand and waved it in the direction of her office. “Diane told me you were here, but when I asked why, she said she didn’t know. Is everything okay?”
More than anything in the world she wanted to tell him things were fine—exceptional, in fact. But she couldn’t.
Nor could she keep him in the dark any longer.
Something had shifted between them the past few weeks, something that hinted at the possibility of a future together. Allowing him to believe in such a possibility when it simply couldn’t happen wasn’t right.
She knew this. She really did. But did it matter if she told him now or ten minutes from now? Deciding it didn’t, she allowed herself one final moment or two of happiness before she delved back into a reality that was far bleaker than she’d even realized.
“Can you come sit with me for a little while?”
“That’s what I was hoping for when I showed up at your door just now,” he said, his dimples on full display. “But wouldn’t you rather get out of here? Maybe stop at Heavenly Brews for a treat or go for a long walk? It’s a gorgeous night. There are tons of stars and just enough of a chill to make it so you’d think I was being a gentleman when I put my arm around you.”
“That’s because you
are
a gentleman,” she said.
“I am, but I’d be lying if I didn’t say I’d take just about any chance I could to hold you close.”
There was a part of her that wanted nothing more than to take that walk, to feel the increased beat of her heart when his arm came around her shoulder as they set out in whatever direction they chose. But that would only delay the inevitable.
She glanced at the floor and then back up at Jakob, the sparkle of hope in his eyes making it difficult to breathe. “Could we just talk here for a while, instead? I . . . I still have a little work to do before I can call it a night.”
He hesitated a beat before the agreement eventually came via a slow, easy nod. “I had no idea that owning a gift shop meant so many late nights.”
Determined to enjoy at least a few minutes together, she led the way past her office and into the main room, flipping on an occasional light as they passed. When they reached the counter area, she pulled out the pair of stools she kept behind the register area and patted Jakob over. “Have you spoken to Patrick today by any chance?”
“No. Why? Is he okay?”
She waited until he’d gotten settled then sat beside him with what she hoped was a genuine smile. She wanted to relish this time together, wanted to savor it as the gift it was. “He’s having a hard time, of course. How could he not when his own mother robbed him of the best thing that had happened to him in years, if not his entire life?”
“Yeah, I feel bad for the guy. He’s got to be feeling pretty directionless right now.” Jakob shifted in his seat to afford a better view of Claire.
“I’m sure he is, and I’m sure he’ll feel like that for quite some time. But today he got a little bit of a nudge from someone very special.” She allowed herself to drift back through the quieter parts of her day as she took a much-needed break to recover from the trauma of Saturday night and the official questioning that had followed the next morning. Patrick’s arrival, just before lunch, had netted the kind of poignant moment she knew she’d carry in her heart for years to come.
“What happened?”
“Aunt Diane gave him the box Harley made for him.”
“The toolbox?” Jakob clarified.
She felt the smile spread across her mouth at the memory she was all too happy to share with Jakob. “Actually, it wasn’t a toolbox. It was a painter’s box.”
Before Jakob could respond, she continued, her voice thick with emotion. “Harley knew that hammers and nails weren’t really Patrick’s thing. But he did notice an interest in painting. So he made Patrick a box and filled it with paintbrushes of all shapes and sizes. And at the bottom of it all was a note, telling Patrick he could be anything he wanted if he worked at it and tried his best.”
Jakob closed his eyes in time with a deep breath. “Harley said that same thing to me sixteen years ago when I stopped by his farm and told him I wanted to help find the man who killed his brother. And I’ve carried those words and that validation around with me ever since.”
She let Jakob take her hand in his and hold it close. “I suspect Patrick will carry those words and that validation with him through his life, as well. He needs that. From
someone
.”
“I’ll keep an eye on him, Claire. I promise.”
Coming from anyone else, she’d put the likelihood of such a promise being kept at about ten percent. But with Jakob, she knew it would be a hundred percent. That’s the way Jakob was. It was the path he’d chosen and a path he understood in a way few others ever could. “I know you will,” she whispered.
“We can both look in on him . . . together.”
The moment had come. It was time to tell him the truth.
She looked down at Jakob’s hand entwined around hers and willed the warmth and understanding she felt there to stay with her until she was done with what she needed to say. “No. We can’t. Because I won’t be here beyond the end of January, middle of February at most.”
His grip loosened only to tighten around her once again. “Come on, Claire, that’s not funny.”
She swallowed. “I know. I’m not trying to be funny, I’m just trying to be honest . . . with myself and with you.”
This time, his grip not only loosened, he let go of her hand completely. “What are you talking about? Where are you going?”
“I don’t know yet. Someplace where I can get some sort of a job that will allow me to keep a roof over my head and food on my plate.”
“You have that,” he reminded. “You have this shop and your aunt . . .”
“In about ten weeks, I won’t have the shop any longer, and I won’t live off my aunt no matter how hard she’s going to try and convince me otherwise. That’s not the life I want.”
He looked around at the shop and the dwindling merchandise on the shelves around them. “I don’t understand. Why are you giving up on the shop? You told me that very first day we met that this place was a dream come true for you. What’s changed?”
“My finances.” She slipped off the stool and wandered across the shop, stopping midway to turn and face him once again. “I thought I had enough socked aside to stay current on the rent and other expenses, but I was wrong. I just don’t have enough big-ticket items to sell to really make a go at this.”
He met her gaze and held it tight, the hurt and surprise in his eyes impossible to miss. “No. I’m not going to let this happen. You belong in Heavenly. Everyone here loves you. Esther, Eli, Ruth, my sister, your aunt,
me
. . .” He leapt to his feet and came to stand beside her, his hands finding hers once again. “We’re going to fix this. You wait and see.”
More than anything she wanted to jump on his bandwagon with all his best intentions and heartfelt words, but she couldn’t. Her shop and its financial burden were her cross to bear, not Jakob’s. “No. I won’t take money from you and I won’t take it from Aunt Diane. This was my dream to realize—on my own. I fell short, Jakob. It’s time to move on.”
“Maybe there’s another way, Claire. But we’re not going to find it if you’re so quick to give up and walk away.”
“But that’s just it. It
hasn’t
been quick. I’ve known this was coming for a while now. I just chose not to see it.”
Again, he let go of her hands then raked his own through his hair in frustration. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”
“Because I didn’t want to admit it out loud. Especially to you.”
He dragged his hands down his face, stopping midway to peer at her across his fingertips. “Especially to me? Why?”
“I guess I allowed myself to get caught up in a possibility I had never really envisioned for myself until just recently.” She heard the tears in her voice, knew it was only a matter of minutes before they made their way down her face.
“Possibility? What possibility?”
She made herself breathe as she willed the tears to stay at bay just a little longer. The last thing she wanted was for her heartbreak to result in some sort of pity-driven response. That, she couldn’t handle. Especially not from Jakob.
When she was virtually certain she could speak, she answered his question as simply and honestly as she could. “The possibility of a second chance.”
At his questioning eyes, she filled in the rest of the sentence, her voice breaking on the final word. “At love.”
Footsteps in the back room brought them both up short, and they turned in time to see Eli, Benjamin, and Al Gussman step into the room, their hands folded neatly in front of them. “Claire. Jakob.”
She swiped the back of her hand across her eyes in an effort to rid them of the tears she felt slipping past her best efforts. “Is—is everything alright?” she finally asked when she was sure she could trust her voice.
“Well, we were kind of hoping you might be able to tell
us
that,” her landlord said, stepping forward. “Benjamin, here, told us what’s going on and we’re here to help.”
She turned an accusing eye in Benjamin’s direction. “Benjamin, you told me you wouldn’t say anything.”
“You told
him
?” Jakob questioned.
“A few days ago, yes.” She kept her eyes on Benjamin even as she addressed Jakob. “It was either that or explode.” Then, bringing her verbal focus in line with her gaze, she dressed Benjamin down in a way she never had before. “You gave me your word. How could you go back on that?”
“You asked that I not tell Esther. I did not tell her. I told only Eli . . . and Mr. Gussman.”
Al stepped between Benjamin and Claire waving his hands in the air as he did. “If Benjamin hadn’t told me what was going on over here, I wouldn’t have known where to put the money.”
“What money?” she asked.
“The money that showed up in the mailbox of the general store this morning with a note saying only to use it to pay the rent of a needy business owner this coming year.”
She staggered against Jakob and was grateful for the strength she found there. “You can’t be serious . . .”
“I can and I am.”
“But . . . but where did it come from?”
“I don’t know. The note didn’t say.”
This time, when she looked at Benjamin, the anger was gone, in its place the kind of gratitude that was nearly impossible to express. “Benjamin, I can’t accept that kind of money from you.”
“It is not from me.”
“But who else knew?”
“One of your wishing stars, perhaps?” Benjamin’s suspenders pulled taut against his chest as his shoulders rose and fell in a shrug. She felt Jakob studying her, knew he was watching to see if there was something more than friendship between her and Benjamin. But there wasn’t. The friendship they shared was more than enough.
Eli took a step forward. “I have something to show you, Claire. It is in the alley.”
Shifting her focus from one Miller brother to the other, she fell into step behind her best friend’s fiancé. When they reached the back door, Jakob held it open and waited to follow until everyone was outside.