Shunned and Dangerous (An Amish Mystery) (4 page)
Read Shunned and Dangerous (An Amish Mystery) Online
Authors: Laura Bradford
Claire looked up from the bacon distribution she’d silently undertaken and studied her aunt on the opposite side of the table. “There’s
land
on the Amish side?”
“Technically, it’s not inside the city limits of Heavenly, but it’s still within the school district boundaries and those of all public services,” Diane explained. “Quite a few of the Amish have tried to buy it over the years, but after a slight glitch with the sewers, the owner is confident it’ll make more money being divided and sold for custom homes.”
“The location is perfect,” Megan gushed.
“Not perfect enough,” Kyle corrected. “Which is why we’re still looking, remember?”
Megan set her fork beside her plate and addressed Diane with slightly slumped shoulders. “The Realtor didn’t show us the other two developments. Are they for custom homes, too?”
At Diane’s nod, Megan turned to her husband with obvious excitement in her voice. “Can we ask Alan to show us those today?”
“I don’t see why not.” Kyle broke eye contact with his wife long enough to look up at Claire in visible appreciation of the three large pieces of bacon she placed on his plate, all vestiges of fatigue suddenly gone from his otherwise handsome face.
That settled, Will McCormick pushed his empty plate forward and leaned back in his seat. “I’d like to ask you something, Diane, if I may?”
“Of course, Will.” Diane took one final glance around the table then surrendered her full attention to the balding retiree. “What would you like to know?”
“The wife and I went for a ride through the Amish countryside yesterday and noticed two different farmhouses undergoing renovations. Both appeared to be adding an entire room.” Will looked to his wife for confirmation of his observation, her nod letting him know he was on the right track. “What I wonder is whether the Amish have to go through the permit process the rest of us have to go through when we add so much as a shed to our properties.”
Diane smoothed her hand down the sides of her simple white apron then lowered herself to the edge of an extra chair not far from the table. “If they were truly adding on, with a new bedroom or larger kitchen . . . sure. They’d be expected to follow the same ordinances as everyone else in Heavenly. But, in light of it being nearly November, I think it’s safe to say those were temporary structures that you saw.”
Will’s brows furrowed. “They were constructing them of wood just like a regular home addition.”
“At this time of year—known as wedding season in the Amish community—you’ll see additions like that being added to homes all the time. They are, however, temporary, added for the sole purpose of accommodating what will sometimes be as much as several hundred people for a wedding.”
“They have the wedding in their home?” Carolyn asked around an audible intake of air. “Does that mean the mother of the bride has to cook for all of those people, too?”
Diane smiled. “Yes, it does. A wedding is a time for celebration within the Amish community. Food and visiting go hand in hand.”
“Wow.” Callie Claymore waved a hand in her husband’s direction and giggled. “And your mother thought
our
wedding at the club was hard work . . .”
“So the structure will come back down once the wedding is over?” Will asked. At Diane’s nod, he continued. “And how does the whole farm thing work? Does the oldest son get his father’s farm when he marries?”
Claire chimed in, the answer one she herself had learned fairly recently. “Actually, it’s the
youngest
son who gets the farm. They do this because more times than not, there are still a slew of siblings at home when the oldest child gets married.”
“Hmmm. I never thought of that, but it makes perfect sense.” Will motioned to his empty coffee mug and rewarded Claire’s quick response with a warm thank-you and a wide smile. “So then what? The oldest son has to buy his own farm?”
“If there’s one available in the area, yes. If not, he must decide whether to move out of state to a different Amish community with more readily available land, or pursue a different occupation altogether.”
“And the wife?” Callie interjected. “Does she have a say?”
Diane shrugged then rose to her feet to begin the process of gathering dirty plates from the table. “I imagine they talk about things together. But once an Amish girl marries, she does not work outside the home. Her attention is to be focused on her husband and the children they will soon have.”
Claire heard the gasp as it left her lips, sensed the questioning eyes that followed suit. Yet all she could truly focus on was Diane’s words and the rush of sadness they started.
“So . . . when Esther and Eli marry, Esther won’t be able to work at Heavenly Treasures with me anymore?” she whispered past the lump forming in her throat.
“When that day comes, no, she won’t be able to keep working with you. But like anything else in life, dear, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”
Claire blinked rapidly against the tears that pricked the corners of her eyes; the quiet and steady friendship she’d found in her Amish employee was on the verge of being tested by the strains of real life.
It was a test many friendships faced, yet theirs had the added twist of having formed across, and in spite of, two very different worlds. With the common ground of Heavenly Treasures removed from the equation, what would happen?
“Claire? Are you okay?” Diane hurried around the table. “Is there something wrong?”
Inhaling deeply, Claire brought her aunt up to speed on Esther’s news, the implication of her friend’s engagement igniting a foggy haze around her heart. “Six weeks from now, if I’m still lucky enough to even
have
a bridge, we’ll be on the other side of it.”
S
he was just tossing a bag of trash into the container behind Heavenly Treasures when she heard the telltale
clip-clop
of Eli’s buggy as it turned into the alley separating Claire’s gift shop from the Amish-owned bake shop next door. Looking over her shoulder, Claire raised her hand in greeting only to let it fall back down to her side at her incorrect assumption.
Nearly four weeks had come and gone since Eli’s older brother, Benjamin, had made any of the half-dozen or so daily runs between the Miller’s farm and Shoo Fly Bake Shoppe. Milk was still delivered each morning, pie boxes were still assembled each evening, and Ruth—Eli’s twin sister—was still looked after and assisted during Shoo Fly Bake Shoppe’s busiest spurts, but lately, those tasks had fallen completely on Eli.
Sure, she could chalk Eli’s stepped-up presence to the young man’s desire to see Esther as many times throughout the day as possible, but when he still showed up again and again on days Esther wasn’t working, Claire knew it pointed to more. Much more.
She forced her breathing to remain steady despite the near Pavlovian response to Ben’s presence that had her heart beating faster and her hands growing damper by the minute. Somehow, she’d hoped the time apart would have dulled her senses where the handsome Amish man was concerned, but reality, and the way the late-morning sun shimmered off his deep blue eyes, was rapidly proving otherwise.
Wiping her moist hands against the sides of her formfitting black trousers, Claire willed her feet toward the buggy and her mouth into some semblance of a natural smile. “Ben! It’s so good to see you.”
The tall, lanky man with the clean-shaven face, high cheekbones, and scrap of dark brown hair visible beneath his hat jumped down from his seat behind the horses and held out his hand to Claire. “Yah. It is good to see you, too.”
Her hand disappeared inside his strong, callused counterpart, the tingle of his touch solidifying the fact her heart hadn’t completely caught up with her head where Benjamin Miller was concerned. Oh, she’d made the right choice turning down his suggestion of a life together. One only had to look at the rippling effects across Jakob’s life to know what leaving the Amish community after baptism would do to Ben and the relationships he treasured with his siblings. But just because her head—and even some of her heart—knew she’d done what was best, it didn’t mean she stopped wondering from time to time.
Ben was thoughtful in a way few people were. He was kind in a way that made everyone feel like they mattered. And, even more importantly, he cared enough to ask
and
to listen—a winning combination in Claire’s book after coming from a marriage where any and all of those traits fell a distant second to climbing the corporate ladder.
“Nice day we are having, yah?”
She followed his finger upward, the warmth of the sun on her face momentarily chasing the autumn nip from her skin. “Beautiful.”
Feeling his gaze shift in her direction, she cast about for something to say that could lead them back to the quiet friendship they’d forged and she still cherished.
“I imagine the Miller family is thrilled at the notion of Eli and Esther getting married
,”
she said, wincing inwardly at the audible hitch to her voice.
For a long moment, Ben said nothing, his eyes searching her face with a calming intensity. Then, finally, “You do not
want
them to marry?”
Shaking her head against the notion, she rushed to explain the potpourri of feelings Esther and Eli’s engagement had stirred inside her. “Oh, Ben, I couldn’t be happier for Esther and Eli. There’s a tenderness between them that makes me happy every time I see them together. It’s as if the way they look at each other now is some sort of magical window that allows me to see thirty years into their future . . . and they’re still smiling, still in love.”
“This is good, yah?”
She wandered over to the back stoop of her shop and lowered herself onto the top step. “It’s wonderful, Ben. I was beside myself with excitement when Esther told me last night.”
“What changed?”
Slowly, she lifted her gaze until it mingled with his, the way in which he was able to see straight into her heart as surprising as ever. “I don’t know how you do that.”
His dark brows rose ever so slightly beneath the rim of his hat. “I do not know what you mean, Claire.”
She considered explaining, pointing to his ability to read her as one of the many reasons why her heart still fluttered every time she saw him, but, in the end, she opted to get to the point. “I didn’t realize, until my aunt pointed it out this morning, that I’d lose Esther here at the shop. I . . . I guess the thought of her not being here hurts a little.”
“Hurts?”
“During those first six months I was here in Heavenly, I pretty much stayed inside the inn—helping Diane, getting acclimated to her daily tasks, and sharing countless heart-to-heart talks. Sometimes, I’d go for walks by myself, but other than Diane and the guests that came and went from the inn, I didn’t really have any friends here.” She fiddled with the sleeves of her teal green blouse as her thoughts traveled backward along with her words. “But it wasn’t until I opened this place and hired Esther that I truly felt as if Heavenly was my home, too. Suddenly, I had my dream job
and
my first real friend. And now, three months later, I’m poised to lose them both.”
“Both?”
Realizing her mistake, she rushed to clarify her words before she revealed too much. “No, no . . . just Esther.”
“Esther will not be far. Eli is to stay in Heavenly if it is God’s will.”
She closed her eyes against the image of Eli and Esther having to move north or west to find a farm, and focused on the only aspect she could fathom at the moment. “Even if she’s down the road, I won’t be seeing her nearly every day the way I do now. She’ll be busy with her new life, and I will be . . .” Her words petered off only to return with a defiant shake of her head. “When she is off and married, we won’t be able to laugh at the day’s funny moments together. She won’t be able to teach me Pennsylvania Dutch the way I’ve been hoping she would.”
Ben claimed the empty step beside Claire, propping his forearms against his thighs as he did. “I do not work at shop with you.”
“I know that,” she said, shooting a quizzical look in his direction.
“Jakob does not work in shop with you.”
She shrugged. “No.”
“Ruth works there”—he jutted his chin in the direction of Shoo Fly Bake Shoppe across the alleyway, the aroma of a freshly baked apple pie wafting through the bakery’s screened door—“not here with you.”
“If she did, I’d be big as a house from all those delicious treats she makes,” Claire said, laughing. Then, turning her body to the side, she reestablished eye contact with Ben. “I don’t understand where you’re going with all of this.”
Ben cleared his throat once, twice. “Ruth is your friend, yah? Jakob is your friend, yah?
I . . . I
am your friend, yah?”
At the unexpected hesitation in his voice, she reached for his hand and gave it a quick but gentle squeeze. “Yes, you are all my friends.”
He looked down at the place where her hand had been moments earlier, then looked away, his Adam’s apple bobbing.
“Ben?”
Finally, he looked back, a hooded effect across his otherwise clear blue eyes. “Esther does not need the shop to be your friend.”
She smiled through the day’s second round of tears, Ben’s simple yet heartfelt words proving to be exactly what she needed to hear. “Thank you, Ben,” she whispered.
“It is nothing.” He rose to his feet, the snort of his horse stealing his attention long enough for Claire to compose herself. “Eli was hitching up the buggy to look after Ruth, but I said no, I would do it today.”
Jumping to her feet, she nodded. “Then I’ll leave you to it.” She reached for the handle of her own screened door. “It was good to see you again. I’ve missed you.”
He held up his hand, his eyes wide. “You do not understand. I told Eli I would come this time so I could check on
you
, too.”
“Me?” she asked, releasing her hold on the door. “But why?”
“Eli said you found Zook’s body in maze. He said you screamed.”
“Oh. That.” She took in a deep breath then let it go, slowly. “I’m surprised the whole town didn’t hear me scream when I found him like that.”
“And now?”
“It’s not something I’ll soon forget, I’m sure, but I’m okay.” She met his worried expression with what she hoped was a reassuring smile then felt it fade as the events of the previous night took center stage in her thoughts. “It is disheartening to hear of any murder. But to learn it is the brother of another murder victim is hard to comprehend.”
“Duggan is in jail. He could not have murdered Harley.”
“I know, but I’d be lying if I didn’t say it would be easier on Jakob if this murder could be hung on this Duggan fellow, too.”
Ben’s head snapped up. “I do not understand. Does Jakob not have suspects?”
She stepped down to the cobblestoned alleyway, Jakob’s failure to return her call from that morning sending a renewed shiver down her spine. Jakob was struggling. That, she knew already. But, in the cold light of day, the task of finding Harley’s killer and bringing him to justice had to be weighing on the detective in a way no previous case ever had. Especially when the most likely suspect shared not only his last name but also his DNA.
“He has one. But it’s not one even an excommunicated son would ever want to consider.”
A dark cloud of emotion rolled across Ben’s face just before he fisted his hands and turned toward his waiting horse. “I must go.”
“Ben?” She half walked, half ran after him, the abrupt change in his demeanor catching her by surprise. “Ben? What’s wrong?”
He hoisted himself onto the driver’s seat of his buggy and grabbed hold of the reins. “It is as I told Eli and many others in my community last night. Mose Fisher did not kill Harley Zook.”
She stared up at him. “How can you be so sure?”
“Mose Fisher would not murder. It is not the Amish way.”
“Is it the Amish way to be angry?”
He softened his grip ever so slightly. “We do not show anger.”
“Eli said Mose was angry at Harley for extending a job offer to Isaac.”
“Eli should mind his tongue!”
Claire shifted from foot to foot under the weight and force of Ben’s words. “Eli was asked a question by a detective, Ben. He did not take joy in answering, but he did so with the truth. I commend him for that. Besides, if Mose is not guilty, nothing Eli said will make a difference.”
Again, Ben firmed up his hold on the reins, gently guiding the horse and buggy down the alley toward Lighted Way—the quaint shop-lined thoroughfare that connected the English and Amish sides of Heavenly, melding the two worlds in almost seamless fashion. When he reached the end, he stopped. “Mose Fisher did not murder Harley Zook. It does not matter that he was bitter about so much. It does not matter that he had bursts of anger. Mose Fisher would not play God for any reason.” Pulling his gaze from Claire, he fixed it, instead, on the fields in the distance. “I will prove this to my community. I will prove this to Jakob. And I will prove this to you, Claire, as well.”