Murder, Simply Stitched: An Amish Quilt Shop Mystery (12 page)

“But shouldn’t Reed be in school? He’s only fifteen.”

“That’s not my concern. If Wanda let him work here as much as she did she must have had a reason.”

What reason could that be?
I knew a fifteen-year-old working during school hours wasn’t anything to give Gideon, an Amish man, pause, but why would Wanda, an English woman, allow it? And, excluding the Amish, wasn’t it illegal for children to be out of school under sixteen? I was almost certain that was the case.

He shoved his soaking wet handkerchief back into his pocket. “Reed’s good with horses. That’s why I hired him. That’s the
only
reason.”

The way he emphatically said that last sentence made me wonder if he was protesting a bit too much. There was more to Reed working at the auction than Gideon wanted me to know. However, I decided to let it slide for the moment. “I’m curious about Petunia. She’s almost like a pet to you. I didn’t think the Amish keep livestock as pets.”

He fondled her long floppy ear between his fingers. “Petunia is more like a companion than a pet, but you are right that it’s not the Amish way. I suppose I was just taken with her personality. Before I opened the auction house four years ago, I farmed dairy goats. I had a herd of thirty Nubians like Petunia here. I finally sold them all but couldn’t bring myself to sell her.”

“She does have a lot of personality,” I agreed.

He laughed. “The boys told me she knocked you down in the barn. She was only saying hello. Goats greet each other with head butts.”

“That’s what they said.” Great, Petunia thinks I’m a goat. What I always wanted.

Gideon went on. “It’s nice to have a good source of milk for the family, and there’s nothing like the cream from goat’s milk in your morning
kaffi
.”

I would have to take his word on that.

“Now, if that’s all of your questions, I think it’s time for you to go. The boys and I have much work to do to prepare for the next auction. We are shorthanded too since Reed didn’t show up for work today.”

He didn’t show up because his aunt was dead . . . maybe murdered, but neither one of us said that aloud.

A
fter leaving the auction grounds, I drove straight to my house, so I could clean up. Oliver and Dodger were both still at the shop with Mattie, so I was the only one there. I showered, changed into dry clothes, and decided to drop in on my friend Jessica Nicolson at Out of Time.

Cherry Cat, Dodger’s mother, met me at the antique shop’s door. Jessica stepped around the end tables, lamp stands, and coat trees to reach me as if she were performing an intricate dance. Dozens of jack-o’-lanterns decorated the shop. I wondered what kind of holiday-themed decorating Willow and Jessica could accomplish if they ever decided to join forces. “This is the perfect day for you to drop in. I haven’t had a single customer. The rain is keeping them away. I hope the storm doesn’t knock too many of the leaves from the trees. The tourists come to see our fall colors.”

“That would be a shame. The trees are gorgeous,” I said.

She glanced at my feet. “No Oliver?”

I laughed. “The thunder scared him. He opted to stay back at the shop with Dodger.”

She laughed. “And how is Dodger doing?”

“He’s into everything.”

“He was a high-energy kitten.”

“He’s only gotten more so since we took him home. Oliver adores him and has appointed himself the kitten’s guardian.” I inched around Knight Richard, a full suit of armor that Jessica had purchased from an Akron tire tycoon’s estate complete with head-chopping-off ax.

She frowned. “You must be chilled. I was about to make myself a mug of cocoa. Would you like some?”

“I would love it.” I followed her back to the counter. My hip connected painfully with the corner of a dresser. I rubbed my side.

“Just sit anywhere you like,” she said as she disappeared behind the curtain of beads to the back room.

I moved a vase out of the way and perched on the dresser. Cherry Cat jumped up onto my lap. I liked to think we have a special bond because she was Dodger’s birth mom, and I am his adoptive mom.

Jessica returned with two mugs of cocoa. She chuckled when she spotted Cherry Cat’s chosen spot. “I see you have a friend.” She handed me a mug and leaned back against the counter.

“I was about to tell her about her son’s latest antics, including his love of climbing curtains.”

Jessica chuckled, but then her face sobered. “Did you hear about Wanda Hunt?” Jessica asked.

I nodded. “I found her.”

Jessica almost dropped her mug. She placed it on the counter at the last moment before it crashed to the floor. “You found her? Like dead? You found her dead?”

I nodded, remembering the gruesome scene. Likely, I would never eat a fry pie again.

“You were there? And you let me go on and on about the weather and my inventory? Tell me exactly what happened.”

“There’s not much to tell. I took Oliver for a walk around the auction grounds and came around the canning shed. There she was, dead and holding a fry pie in her hand.”

Jessica held up her hands in the universal stop sign. “She was holding a fry pie.”

I squinted. Oops! I bet all the fry pies in Rachel’s bakery the sheriff didn’t want me to let out that little detail. I had told my quilt circle of course, but Amish women knew how to keep a secret, Sarah Leham notwithstanding. “You can’t tell anyone about the fry pie. The sheriff wouldn’t like it I told you that.”

Her mood lightened. “We wouldn’t want to upset the sheriff, would we?”

She knew about my crush on him. I rolled my eyes. “Back to dead bodies, please.”

“What were you doing at the auction?”

“Oh, I must not have told you. Rachel got me a space there to auction off some of my aunt’s quilts. They sold well.”

Jessica picked up her mug again. “Wow, I wish I could get in there, but I rarely peddle anything Amish. That’s all the auction will sell.”

I blew on my cocoa. “Did you know Wanda well?”

Cherry Cat stretched and walked off my lap. Apparently, I had ignored her too long. She pranced across the dresser’s top and vaulted herself onto the very top of a bookshelf, five feet above the dresser. Now I knew where Dodger got his penchant for climbing and leaping.

Jessica stirred her cocoa as if considering her answer. “Not really. I knew her for years, but nothing more than to say hello to in the market or smile at while walking down the street.”

I frowned. “I hoped you knew her ex-husband. I want to talk to him, but I don’t know where to find him. I don’t think the sheriff will tell me. He’s not too keen on me getting involved in the case.”

She made a T with her hands. “Wait. Time out. Why would you get involved with the case? You weren’t particularly close to Wanda, were you?”

I set my empty mug on the dresser. “It’s not for Wanda. It’s for Rachel.”

Her hand flew to her chest. “Rachel! Did something happen to Rachel?”

I shook my head. “No. Rachel is fine. At least, she is fine physically.” I licked cocoa from my lips. “The sheriff suspects that either Rachel or her husband had something to do with Wanda’s death.”

Jessica’s mouth fell open. “Why?” she was finally able to squeak out.

I went on to tell her about the pie factory and the blueberry fry pie, which had been Wanda’s undoing, coming from Rachel’s hand.

Jessica whistled. “Poor Rachel. I can see why you would want to help her. It doesn’t sound like Aaron takes this accusation seriously enough.” She paused. “I do know Wanda’s husband. His name is Troy. I see him here in Millersburg a fair amount, much more than Wanda, who seemed to stick to the township of Rolling Brook. He’s a truck driver.”

I crossed my ankles. “A truck driver? He might be hard to pin down if he’s on the road a lot.”

She shook her head. “An Amish truck driver. There’s a difference. He drives Amish around like an unofficial taxi service. If Amish have to go somewhere that’s too far by buggy, they call drivers like Troy to pick them up and drive them to their destinations.”

“In that case, Troy must have close ties to the Amish.”

She shrugged. “You should ask the Millers or Anna Graber. I bet they know how to get in touch with him. Usually an Amish family has a driver they prefer and call regularly, but they have a backup list too if that man is busy.”

“Man?”

She shrugged. “Ninety percent of the time, drivers are men. The Amish world is not an equal-pay-for-equal-work kind of culture.”

“I’ll ask them. Thanks.” I smiled. I finally had a real lead on the case, if there was a case. I needed to know from the sheriff how far he planned to take his accusations against the Millers.

A coy smile crossed Jessica’s face. “So you saw the sheriff yesterday I assume.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Yes . . . he was there on the job.”

“How did that go?”

“Not great, considering we stood over a dead body,” I said drily.

“Had the body not been there, you would have had a witty conversation. Just thinking of your little romance flutters my heart.”

“Really, there was nothing to flutter about.”

“I don’t believe that. I’m sure he was concerned when the call came in and he learned that you were the one who found Wanda.”

“Or annoyed is more like it. The only time I see him is when dead bodies are involved.” I winced as soon as I said this. Jessica’s cousin had been tied to the sheriff’s last murder case, and it had not ended happily for her cousin.

She gave me a small smile. She knew what I was thinking. “The sheriff has a crush on you. I can see. Everyone can see it.”

“Whatever.”

“Ahh, don’t play coy with me. We’re girlfriends. I know he’s asked you on a date.”

“How do you know that?”

“I heard it from Willow, who heard it from the owner of the mercantile, who heard it from your landlord.”

“Is there anything else to do in this county besides gossip?”

She thought about that for a minute. “Not really. At least not until we get a movie theater.”

W
hen I got back to the shop, I found Anna in my aunt’s rocker by the front window. Seeing her there reminded me so much of my aunt sitting there hour after hour when I was a child, especially on a rainy day like this when there were no customers.

She would rock and quilt and rock and quilt.

“Anna, I’m surprised to see you here,” I said as I hung up my damp jacket. I was beginning to wonder if I would ever truly be dry again.

“I stopped by to see if you had learned anything new. Since you weren’t here, I thought I would put in a few more stitches in this quilt. We will have to become more focused about it, if you want to finish it to sell at the auction house this season.”

“If I am invited back,” I muttered.

She set her quilting on her lap. “What do you mean by that?”

“I dropped by the auction yard this morning for a look around.”

Mattie ran a feather duster around the bookshelves. “You were snooping.”

“Maybe,” I said. “The worst was I got caught and Gideon asked me to leave. I don’t know if I will be welcome there again.”

“Bah!” Anna said. “He will have you back. Look at how much money you made on those three quilts. He made a profit on each sale too. Gideon Nissley is a businessman first.” She paused. “Maybe even before he is an Amish man. He will do what it takes to make money for himself.”

“Do you speak from some type of experience?” I glanced over at Mattie and she appeared surprised by Anna’s comments as well.

Anna sighed. “It is not for me to say. If you really want to know, you should talk to Jonah. He has been doing business with Gideon for years.” Anna wouldn’t say another word about it.

I made a mental note to talk to Jonah. “I stopped by Out of Time too to talk to Jessica.”

“And?” Anna asked.

“She knew that Wanda died at the auction, everyone in the county knows that now. An interesting tidbit she told was that Wanda’s ex-husband, Troy Hunt, is an Amish driver.”

“Is that important?” Anna asked.

“Maybe,” I said. “Wanda died on an Amish auction yard. Maybe Troy was familiar with the place because he’s driven Amish out that way before? All I know for certain is he’s a prime suspect.”

“Why?” Mattie asked. “Because he drives Amish?”

“No, because most murders are committed by someone the person knows, and most of those murderers are the significant other or, in this case, the ex-significant other. If he didn’t do it, he might know the person who did.”

Mattie gripped the feather duster. “Our family has used him for a driver before.”

“We have too,” Anna said. “I don’t know his phone number, but we reach him by calling the Double Dime Diner in Millersburg.”

“The Double Dime Diner? Where’s that?” I walked over to Oliver’s dog bed where I found him curled up with Dodger. The kitten was asleep nestled under the Frenchie’s chin. Oliver was wide awake and appeared to be trying very hard not to move.

Anna snipped a new length of thread from her spool. “It’s south on route 39.”

I plucked my coat from the peg on the wall. “I’ll head over there right now. Mattie, can you stay and keep an eye on the shop?”

“But, Angie, what about the beginner’s quilting class tomorrow morning? I thought you wanted to work on putting the pieces together today,” Mattie asked.

“That’s right. How about this, you start cutting the pieces, and I will put the packets together when I get back.”

Anna stood. “I can help you cut, Mattie. I am teaching the class.”

“I’d appreciate the help. That’s a lot of pieces to cut even if it’s only for a small class,” Mattie said.

I picked up my hobo bag. “What was the final count of attendees?”

Mattie walked around the counter and consulted a clipboard. “Final count is seven.”

I frowned. I had hoped for at least ten. Although a class that large would be tight in the shop if any shoppers happened by. However seven was a respectable number. The class had to be a success, so they would go home and tell their friends, who then will want to take a class. The goal was to begin small. Class one was on choosing the right pattern and cutting, class two was on piecing, and class three was on quilting by hand. By the end of the fifth class, they would each have a small wall quilt of their very own. Materials were included in the cost of admission. I had a lot riding on these classes, especially now that Martha had copied my idea and offered classes of her own, calling hers “authentic.”

“Sarah will be here tomorrow to help you with the class,” I said.

Anna nodded. “I am glad. Sarah has a good eye for detail, which comes in handy at times.”

I fished in my purse for my keys. “I want this class to be a huge success, and the ladies who attend to think they’ve had a real Amish quilting experience.”

“It will be,” Mattie said reassuringly.

Anna wiped the lens of her glasses on her apron. “You wouldn’t happen to be thinking about the classes that Martha’s offering next door, are you?”

“How did you know that?”

She laughed. “Your hands are balled up into tiny fists.”

“So how do you know that I wasn’t upset about something else? Like Wanda’s death? Or the accusations against the Millers?”

“Were you?”

“No,” I admitted.

She nodded as if I just proved her point, which in a way I had.

“In any case, I will be back in plenty of time to help get everything ready for tomorrow’s class. I can even stay after the shop closes if need be.”

“Ya.”
Mattie nodded. “We know you like to work at night but don’t worry. I wouldn’t be surprised if Anna and I have everything done before you get back from the diner.”

I smiled. “I wouldn’t be surprised either. Thank you both.” I turned to Oliver. “Oliver, let’s go.”

He lifted his head up from where it rested against Dodger’s cheek. His expression clearly said, “Do I have to?”

I put my hands on my hips. “Dodger will be fine. You can’t be a mother hen over him all the time. He needs to learn how to take care of himself.”

Oliver sighed but rose to his feet. He took care not to disturb the sleeping kitten.

Dodger mewed softly in his sleep as if to ask where the large warm pillow had gone.

Oliver whimpered, but before I could even cross the room, Dodger rolled back into a tight ball and went to sleep.

“See, I told you he will be fine,” I said.

Anna pulled open the drawer under the cutting board and pulled out a pair of large fabric scissors. She pointed the scissors at me. “Angie, you treat that dog as if he were your child.”

My brows shot up. “He’s not?”

Mattie chuckled, and Oliver and I headed for the Double Dime Diner.