Authors: Ruth Hartzler
Romans 13: 8 - 10.
Owe no one anything, except to love each other, for the one who loves another has fulfilled the law. For the commandments, “You shall not commit adultery, You shall not murder, You shall not steal, You shall not covet,” and any other commandment, are summed up in this word: “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” Love does no wrong to a neighbor; therefore love is the fulfilling of the law.
Chapter 1
.
Isobel pulled her heavy, black shawl closer to her neck as she looked out the window of the little café. "It looks like the weather's getting worse out there."
Melissa, her good friend, agreed. "I’d best be getting home. Victor was worried about me coming out in this weather today."
"But we still have twenty more minutes for lunch. I don’t have to be back at work for a while yet. You don't want to stay and talk some more about your new husband?"
"Sorry, Isobel." Melissa smiled. "I could talk about Victor all day, but it doesn't look like it’s getting any better out there. Anyway, you should get yourself a boyfriend - what's happening with Jakob?"
Isobel sighed. "Everyone keeps telling me that he's a
gut
match for me. I suppose I'll have to get married sooner or later; I do want
kinner
."
Melissa laughed. "You're young, Isobel; there's plenty of time for
kinner
."
Isobel raised one eyebrow. "I don’t know. Jakob's dependable and all that, I suppose. He'd make a
gut
husband, no doubt. There's just something missing."
"No spark?" Melissa asked as she gulped the last of her coffee and rose from the table.
Isobel's shoulders sagged and she looked out the large windows at the snow. "
Jah
, there's no spark. But what choice is there? There are no other suitable
menner
in the community."
Melissa winked at her. "You know, you might find a
mann
outside the community, like I did."
Isobel snorted rudely. "Like that's ever going to happen."
"You never know, now that you’ve borrowed the buggy horse, Blessing, from my
bruder
. Blessing brought Victor to me, and he brought Nettie to my
bruder
. Wait and see."
"
Ach
, you’re
ab im kopp
." Isobel chuckled and gave Melissa a playful tap on the arm.
As the two parted ways, Isobel made her way back to the Old Candle Store where she worked. It was warm and cozy in the candle store, and Isobel loved the atmosphere: the scent of innumerable fragrant candles, the warm glow of candlelight, and the quaintness of the store.
On this cold, winter day, Isobel's steps quickened. The ice bit into her cheeks and she held the shawl closer to her face. She went to the parking place to check that the thick, waterproof blanket was still on Blessing, but when she got there, it was on the ground. Isobel picked it up and threw it back over Blessing, but as soon as she did, he reached around with his teeth and pulled it off.
"Blessing!" she scolded. "It's freezing. I've never known you to do that before. Here, I’ll have to tighten the dees."
After the blanket was suitably adjusted, Isobel hurried back to the store. As she turned down the side street where the store was located, she noticed that no one else was braving the weather; the street was deserted.
I doubt there'll be many customers this afternoon
, she thought.
As Isobel ducked under the porch roof of the store, she noted to her surprise that the
Closed
sign was hanging inside the door. The next thing she knew, she was knocked to the ground by a man exiting the door in a rush.
The two locked eyes for a moment, and a sudden fear ran through Isobel. The man made no move to help her, but hesitated for a moment, before hurrying down the street.
Isobel looked after him with surprise.
How rude
, she thought, gingerly picking herself up off the ground. Her arm hurt where she had landed heavily on it, throwing it out to save herself. She reached for the door the second time, wondering why the
Closed
sign was hanging on it. Her boss, Mr. Harrison, always filled in for her when she went to lunch.
Isobel walked through the door, flipping the sign to
Open
. Mr. Harrison was not behind the front counter; perhaps he'd been called out on an urgent errand.
Jah, that must be it
, Isobel thought, a little puzzled as to what could be so urgent that her boss couldn't wait for her to return from lunch.
Isobel stuck her head around the door of the back room to see if Mr. Harrison was there, but there was no sign of him. She was about to take up her place at the front counter when something at floor level through the open office door caught her eye.
Isobel looked again. To her shock and distress, she saw a pair of legs. Isobel ran over to Mr. Harrison, who was lying on the ground. At first she was too shocked to notice the pool of blood. Isobel clutched at her head, and then ran to the store phone to call 911.
Luke 6: 36 - 37.
Be merciful, even as your Father is merciful. Judge not, and you will not be judged; condemn not, and you will not be condemned; forgive, and you will be forgiven.
Chapter 2
.
Isobel sat numbly in a chair on the far side of the Old Candle Store, while paramedics and police scurried around like ants. Isobel averted her eyes when Mr. Harrison was wheeled out, a bag completely covering him. She could hear Mrs. Harrison sobbing loudly from the residence above the store.
Isobel was disorientated and dizzy. It was if she were watching a scene unfold before her eyes, a scene that she was watching from afar. Nothing made any sense. Her eyes fell on a handsome man in a dark suit talking to a photographer.
The man at once walked over to her and sat opposite. “I’m Detective Stutzman.” He took off his coat, and draped it over the back of his chair.
"Where are you taking Mr. Harrison?"
The detective frowned. "To a local hospital. You do realize he's deceased?"
Isobel was at once annoyed. Did the man think she was an idiot? "Of course I do," she snapped, but then added, "I'm sorry; it’s such a shock."
If Isobel had expected sympathy in the man's gray eyes, she got none. "Do you mind if I tape this?"
A wave of dizziness washed over Isobel and she clutched at her stomach.
"Did you hear what I said?" The detective was peering at her.
Isobel noted his square jaw, his dark, short hair, and his broad shoulders, and then wondered why she would notice such things in these circumstances.
Isobel nodded, although she had not, in fact, heard what he said after he asked if he may tape the interview.
"Your name?"
No sooner had Isobel said, "Isobel Slabaugh," than the man barked, "Full name? Date of birth? I don’t suppose you have a home telephone number?"
Isobel winced, but answered clearly.
"What is your relationship to the deceased?"
Isobel was appalled. "I did not have a relationship with Mr. Harrison," she said, highly offended. "He was married, and is old enough to be my
grossdawdi
." A tear trickled out her eye and she swiftly wiped it away with the back of her hand.
The detective sighed and shook his head. "That just means - how did you know him?"
"Oh." Isobel was embarrassed, and her ears burned with humiliation. "I worked for Mr. Harrison and his wife, Peggy."
“You work here?” the detective asked her, and she nodded. “Please do not nod or otherwise use gestures, as this is being recorded." He nodded to the tape machine whirring away on the table next to him. "Do you work here? For how long?” His tone was stern.
“Yes. Seven years,” Isobel said, after adding them quickly up in her head. It hadn’t felt like that long. Saying it out aloud, thinking that she had worked for Mr. Harrison for so long, almost a decade really, made her tear up again. Stinging tears fell down her cheeks. Detective Stutzman reached into his inner coat pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. He handed it to her and Isobel took it, dabbing her eyes with a corner of the silky material.
“What about the other employees? Are you working alone today?”
“There are no other employees, only me,” Isobel said.
“Did the deceased and Mrs. Harrison work in the store too?”
Isobel winced when the detective referred to Mr. Harrison as
the deceased
. “No, Mrs. Harrison didn't work here, but Mr. Harrison did when I was off.”
The detective stroked his chin and narrowed his eyes. “So money was tight for them? Did Mr. Harrison have a life insurance policy?”
Isobel's mouth fell open. Was the detective thinking that Peggy killed her husband for money? She was suddenly afraid, thrust into a world of
Englischers
who were suspicious. She stood up.
Detective Stutzman spoke quickly, and with such a tone in his voice that it frightened Isobel for a moment. “Sit down,” he said. “I’m not done.”
Isobel dropped back into her seat.
Stutzman continued. “What about you? He must not be able to pay you too much.”
“I live with my parents,” Isobel said.
“How old are you?” Stutzman asked.
“Twenty-two,” Isobel answered.
“And you’ve worked here for seven years?”
Isobel nodded, but then remembered she was not allowed to nod, and said, "Yes."
The detective stopped for a moment to speak to a police officer. "Yes, you deal with the two deputy county coroners and I'll continue to interview Miss Slabaugh. See to it that I'm not disturbed
this
time."
The man scurried away.
The detective turned the tape machine back on. "Please describe the circumstances to me in which you found the body."
Isobel described what happened from the time she approached the store door to the time she found Mr. Harrison. The detective did not speak until she had finished. "Describe the man again, please," he said.
Isobel was puzzled. "But you're recording it," she said, pointing to the tape.
The detective raised his eyebrows, so Isobel pushed on, before he could chastise her again.
“He was short, and seemed very strong looking, like a farmer used to hard work." The detective raised his eyebrows again at that one, but she continued. "His lips were wide, and he had one eye closed. His hair was brown but graying. He had a tiny, little beard."
"Go on."
"His left eye was almost closed - as if he'd had an old injury."
Detective Stutzman nodded as he scribbled words down in his notebook. When Isobel was done he stood up. “Thank you for your time. We'll be in touch about when to come to the station to give your statement. You may go,” he added, and then spun around and hurried away.
He spoke to another detective in a corner and Isobel overheard the words, "No discrepancies." She hoped that was a good thing.
Isobel sat in shock. She had not expected the conversation to be over so quickly. She disliked the detective's manner, but there was something appealing about him. As Isobel walked out the front door of the store, she could feel the detective's eyes burning into her back.
* * *
Stutzman watched the young woman for a minute, and then he cranked the key, and the engine of his dark blue sedan roared to life. He put the car in drive and pulled out into the street, away from the curb. He fell in with traffic and drove a few blocks before parking at the curb once more, this time in front of a little café. He climbed out his car and went in, standing in a short line before ordering a coffee. He took the steaming mug to a table and sat by the window.
He always did that, pondering over a case with the help of a hot cup of coffee. It was as if he needed the caffeine to help him think. After his conversation with Isobel, he was sure the woman hadn’t known anything about the murder, and he was reasonably sure Harrison hadn’t gotten himself killed, and his wife hadn’t killed him either.
But that left no one. No other suspects. The wife was a bad suspect, Harrison himself was a bad suspect, and Isobel was too naive and innocent to have planned anything. Besides, she was Amish. Stutzman shuddered. But if it wasn’t one of them, who was it? Stutzman didn’t have an answer. One thing was for sure; the girl was lucky that she had tended to her horse before returning to the Old Candle Store. Otherwise, there would have likely been two victims.
Why the thought of harm coming to the Amish woman upset him so much, he did not know. He had felt an instant attraction to her, but figured that was just some lingering effects of his past. Nevertheless, he felt an almost primal urge to protect her.
He drank his steaming coffee while he looked out the window, watching cars pass by, and people walk up and down the street. His stomach rumbled and he stood and returned to the counter to get a refill and buy a croissant. He sat at the same table to eat his food. Afterwards, he left his mug on the table on top of a small tip for whoever cleaned it up, and went outside.
His next move was to interview Peggy Harrison, but the paramedics had refused to allow him to speak to her at the scene. After that, he wasn’t sure who else he could talk to. The Harrisons did not have children; in fact, neither of them had any surviving family outside of Peggy’s sister. Once again the engine roared to life and Stutzman pulled his car onto the street.