Dead Set

by Vannetta Chapman

  In other words, the day progressed as it should have the day before. Agatha even found herself smiling at the sound of sledgehammers, the banter of the men, and Gina’s determination to feed them so much food they’d probably need a siesta. Tony stopped by to see if they needed anything and confirm—again—that the cameras were working perfectly.

  “Don’t worry about any of this,” he said as he grabbed a quick kiss while Gina was turned the other direction.

  “I wasn’t planning on it.”

  “Don’t let your guard down either.”

  “So don’t worry, but worry.”

  “Don’t worry, but stay aware of your surroundings.”

  “Spoken like a real detective,” Gina mumbled. She had her head literally in the pantry, yet she still managed to hear every word of their conversation. The woman really was quite amazing.

  Tony left to meet a couple who had scheduled a fishing trip down the river. “I’ll have my cell with me,” he assured her. “Call if you need anything.”

  She wasn’t going to need him—not in the way that he thought. The days of investigating murders, of falling into the midst of sinister plots, were behind them. She was a B&B owner, a Plain B&B owner, undertaking a major renovation and picking out paint colors. She sat drinking coffee and staring at the calendar. In three weeks she’d be in Indiana, spoiling her grandkinner.

  She didn’t let the newspaper Gina thrust into her hands dampen her good mood. So what if it had a picture of her on the front, a maniacal smile on her face and the diamond shining in the background? She’d enjoyed whacking that wall. And she hadn’t even been aware of the diamond buckle when Tamara’s camera guy snapped the photo.

  The news article’s bold title proclaimed Amish B&B Owner Finds Waynard Buckle.

  “Makes it sound as if I was looking for it.” She shook her head in disbelief. Some reporters would do anything to sell newspapers. Now she’d be teased by all of her Amish friends.

  “Keep reading. It gets worse.”

  She did not want to keep reading. She did not want to read anything that was worse. But she couldn’t resist peeking at the first paragraph.

  Diamonds and demolition seem to go hand in hand for local resident Agatha Lapp. Involved in two previous murder cases, Agatha now finds herself at the center of the Waynard Diamond Buckle heist. Agatha claimed to have no knowledge that when she buried her mallet in the living room wall she would find the buckle worth more than...

  “I can’t read anymore. This is just silly.”

  “You didn’t get to the best part.” Gina chopped vegetables for their salad with exemplary vigor. “The part where they compare you to Agatha Christie.”

  Agatha groaned. She bit back her irritation and folded up the paper. “We can use this to line Fonzi’s litter box in the mud room.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “To work in the garden.”

  She cut back the plants suffering from the Texas heat. Green beans, in particular, seemed to be giant water hogs when the temperatures rose. It wasn’t a problem as they’d canned plenty in June. She worked mulch into the soil and watered her tomatoes, bell peppers, and squash. She kept glancing toward Tony’s place, then remembered that he’d said he wouldn’t be home until late. “Call if you need anything,” he’d said.

  She needed a hug, Tony’s steady gaze, a laugh about Gina’s insistence on protecting her. Standing, she brushed off her hands and headed back toward the house.

  The work crew was wrapping up for the day, all the men thanking Agatha and Gina for the lunch.

  “They seem like good boys,” Agatha said, watching out the kitchen window as they pulled away.

  “Men. They’re not boys.”

  “I like them.”

  “You like everyone.” Gina said it as if it was a fault in her personality. But then she glanced up from the potato soup she was making and smiled.

  Agatha sometimes had trouble telling whether her friend was a true-blue discontent or simply enjoyed pretending to be one.

  Bishop Schrock stopped by to see if she needed anything. Jonas was in his fifties, his brown beard sprinkled liberally with gray. He’d picked her up at the bus station when she’d first moved to Texas, and Agatha had been fast friends with him and his wife Minerva since that day.

  He assured her that the publicity would help the local Amish businesses and that she’d done nothing wrong. “In fact, my neighbor’s daughter assures me you’re an internet sensation. Something about your video being posted on Snapchat?”

  “Twitter and Facebook too,” Gina chimed in. “The post on the Hunt Breaking News page has over five hundred comments on the picture of you and the buckle.”

  Agatha clapped her hands over her ears. She didn’t want to hear another thing about that video or the news story or John Waynard’s buckle.

  Jonas left, the day wound down, and she and Gina ate their simple meal. Agatha put the leftovers into a container and took it over to Tony’s. He’d given her a key long ago. She let herself in, slipped the food into his refrigerator, and left a note on the counter.

  She paused on her way back to the B&B, looking up at the Texas sky and marveling at the stars. Nature always helped to calm her. It was as if Gotte placed those stars above her to spark joy in her heart. She and Gina spent the next hour reading and knitting. She knitted. Gina read. Gina was convinced that yarn had been created for the sole purpose of tormenting her. Agatha had tried to teach her a simple knitting pattern once—just knit stitches, no purl stitches at all. A child could do it. Gina had dropped the knitting needles in disgust after thirty minutes—the yarn tangled in a giant knot and some choice words coming from her friend.

  When the clock showed nine, Gina closed her book and Agatha stored her knitting project into her basket. Together, they once again made their way upstairs.

  “Are we doing this for the next three weeks?”

  “If we have to.”

  “How do we know if we have to?”

  She expected another sarcastic remark, but instead Gina worried a thumb over her eyebrow and said, “I’m not sure, Agatha. I’m just—worried.”

  With those words, Agatha’s irritation fell away. “You’re a gut friend. Danki.”

  Gina rolled her eyes and checked her pistol.

  “But you really can’t sleep in that chair every night.”

  “Look. I swapped it out with the one in the other room. This one has a high back. My neck won’t hurt nearly as much.”

  Agatha threw a pillow at her. Gina caught it and positioned it behind her head. They both read for a few minutes, then talked of fall plans for the B&B. Soon Agatha was yawning. They turned out the lights, and the last thing Agatha saw was the silhouette of Gina sitting next to the window, pistol on the small table beside her.

  She must have dreamed of Indiana and fall harvest and grandkinner. She couldn’t immediately understand who was shaking her, why they were doing so, or what was happening.

  “Wake up,” Gina hissed. “Someone’s downstairs.”

  “What?” The word would have come out as a screech, but Gina pressed her palm against Agatha’s mouth.

  “Ssh. Here’s my phone. Call Tony. I’m going downstairs.”

  “No, you’re not.” This time she whispered, but with as much force as she could manage. She reached out and grabbed the back of Gina’s night shirt with one hand, even while she put the call through to Tony.

  It was unnecessary. They heard his voice downstairs. “Come out. All of you. And keep your hands where I can see them.”

  Agatha and Gina arrived in the living room in time to see the backs of six teenagers as they walked out onto the porch with their hands raised as instructed.

  “Awfully big group,” Agatha said.

  “Not a very bright one either.”

  “We didn’t mean any harm.” This from a girl who had apparently been declared spokesperson for the group. She had straight blonde hair and wore blue jean shorts and a tie-dyed t-
shirt. “We’re sorry if we scared you. We thought we could sneak in and out without waking anybody.”

  Gina was having none of the apology. “Breaking and entering happens to be against the law.”

  “We didn’t break in, though.” The boy speaking was probably six feet and so thin that Agatha wanted to pop into the kitchen and find him something to eat. “Everybody knows Agatha keeps a key under the old milk can on the porch.”

  Simultaneously everyone turned to look at her, including Tony and Gina.

  She couldn’t think of anything to say except, “Oops.”

  The girl who had spoken earlier picked up their defense. “Plus we thought Agatha wouldn’t really mind our sleuthing a bit. After all, she’s the most famous sleuth in all of Hunt.” She turned to offer a slight wave to Agatha and Gina.

  Agatha waved back.

  Gina didn’t.

  The boys, as if on cue, stared at their shoes sand muttered, “Sorry, ma’am.”

  “Oh, you’re forgiven.” Agatha pushed to the front of the group. “I think it’s best that you all go home now, though. No doubt your parents will be worried. Unless you’re hungry and would like some of Gina’s freshly baked oatmeal chocolate chip cookies.”

  They spent the next half hour feeding the group of inquisitive teens, then sent them on their way.

  “That was not the way I saw that going down,” Gina admitted.

  “Better to feed them than shoot them.”

  “Agatha.” Tony was trying to look perturbed with her, but a smile was tugging at his lips. “A key under the milk can. Seriously?”

  “It’s in case I lock myself out.”

  “Maybe we could relocate that until your current notoriety dies down.”

  “Ya. Good idea.”

  “I should be sitting on the porch with my pistol. I could catch them before they get in the living room.”

  “Not necessary.” Agatha put the empty glasses of milk in the sink and turned to look at Tony and Gina. “I appreciate your dedication, both of you, but it’s really not necessary.”

  “At least we know the cameras work,” Tony pointed out. “I got the first notification when they were walking up your steps.”

  Twenty minutes later, Tony had returned home, Agatha and Gina were back upstairs, and all was right with the world. At least, that’s what Agatha wanted to believe.

  Chapter Four

  The next day passed quickly. Both the indoor and outdoor work crews made good progress, Tony was pleased with his make-shift security system, and Gina woke without a crick in her neck.

  Agatha finally decided on a paint color—something called Champagne Tickle for the walls and a bright white for the trim. The living room was coming along quickly since the wall had been demolished, and skylights were being installed in the portion of the roof that sloped down from the second floor.

  “This is going to look fantastic,” Gina admitted.

  “I think so too. By September, we’ll be swamped with guests.”

  “Yeah, speaking of...we had three more requests for treasure tours today.”

  “What’s a treasure tour?”

  “People are hoping that you’ll walk them through the property, pointing out all the places that treasure is hidden.”

  “There’s only one place, and that wall is gone.”

  “Yup.”

  Which seemed to settle the topic. Derrick Dewald stopped in after lunch to check on the work done that day. “The outdoor crew will be here this afternoon. They had to make a trip to Kerrville to pick up a few extra parts.”

  “So we’re back on schedule, after the belt buckle thing?”

  Derrick laughed. “We are. Just don’t spring any more surprises on me.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  She and Gina had both grown used to having the indoor crew around. They were personable guys. Kolbe, José, and Hunter seemed to be skilled and focused workers. The sound of sledgehammers, shop vacs and work trucks had all become quite familiar, and the guys had quickly grown used to Gina’s cooking. They didn’t even pretend to bring their own lunches after the first day when Gina had insisted they eat what she’d made. Gina beamed at their compliments. Agatha understood that feeling. It always did make her happy to feed people. Tasty, wholesome food had a way of setting the day on its proper course.

  Late that afternoon, the lead worker of the outdoor crew knocked on her door, then thrust paperwork into her hands. “Just need your signature.”

  “Oh, ya. Sure. Maybe we could take a look at what you’ve done first.”

  Garrett Jackson looked to be in his 40s, was solidly built, and polite. His name sounded like two first names to her. Now Lapp—that was a last name no one would mistake for a first name.

  They walked down the brick path toward the cabins and the river beyond.

  “The lights have sensors,” Jackson explained. “They’ll come on when it’s dark.”

  Agatha smiled her appreciation. “It looks gut. Just like I imagined it would.”

  She signed the paperwork, Jackson thanked her, and Agatha walked back toward the main house. He seemed like a nice man. The entire work crew did. She’d been right to go with Dewald Construction. Their bid wasn’t the lowest, and it wasn’t the highest. It was smack dab in the middle of the three contractors who had submitted proposals for the renovation.

  As the work crew packed up to leave, Agatha’s friend Becca arrived.

  “I was wondering if you’d like to come and stay at my place while all this is going on.” She waved at the ladders and tarps and piles of debris.

  “That’s a tempting offer. Gina could spend a night at home, and I could get away from this dust.”

  Kolbe had popped back inside to retrieve a baseball cap and water jug he’d forgotten. He touched the brim of his baseball cap. “Y’all have a good evening.”

  “It’s going to be great,” Agatha said with a smile. “I’m getting out of here.”

  Becca laughed and walked to the boot of the buggy. “Go and fetch your things, and don’t forget your toothbrush!”

  Agatha felt like a schoolgirl as she dashed back inside, but things didn’t go so smoothly when she told Gina what she was doing.

  “Someone needs to stay here, Agatha.”

  “Oh, I don’t think—”

  “I’ll do it. You go on.”

  “Nein. That wouldn’t be...well, it wouldn’t be right.”

  “Listen to me, Agatha. We can’t leave this place unguarded.”

  “But we’re not guards. Not really.”

  “Just having someone here helps deter burglars. Leaving it empty, that would be like leaving a fresh peach pie on the town square and then being surprised when someone took it.”

  “You think someone would take it?”

  Gina raised her eyes to the ceiling, no doubt looking for patience. Agatha was terribly disappointed on one level, but on another level, she knew what Gina was saying made sense. The workers were driving away when she walked back outside and delivered the bad news to Becca.

  “Shoot.” Becca stood there, hands on her hips, looking like a schoolgirl who’d just been told summer vacation had been postponed.

  “We’ll chat on Sunday after the service.”

  “Okay. I suppose that will have to be gut enough.” Becca pulled her into a hug. As she hopped into her buggy, she said, “No more sleuthing, though. I don’t want to see you on the front of the paper again.”

  “Deal.”

  Agatha noticed as Becca drove away that there were still a few cars of gawkers parked across the street. There’d been a steady stream of them all day, no doubt fueled by Tamara’s ridiculous news story. What did these people expect to see? More diamonds? She offered a small wave, then walked back into the house. Gina was still standing in the middle of the demolition space.

  “Sorry, Agatha. I didn’t mean to ruin your sleepover.”

  “It’s fine.” She glanced around. “You might be right about our needing to st
ay here each night, but it wouldn’t hurt to get out for an hour or so.”

  “Actually I wouldn’t mind going to my house to pick up the mail, and we could stand for some more supplies from the grocery store. Those workers eat more than one would expect. Want to make a mad dash to town?”

  “Sure. Why not? No one to take care of here.”

  Gina’s comment about a peach pie had caused her to realize that she’d like to buy some fresh fruit to make pies with. They’d be perfect for Sunday’s church dinner.

  They’d walked out the door when Gina snapped her fingers. “Let me pop inside and get my overnight bag. I can swap out my dirty clothes for clean ones.”

  “Or you could wash them here.”

  Gina waved that idea away as she yawned. “I also want to get my mag light. Just in case. We can’t be too careful. We can’t get complacent.”

  “Oh.” It came out sounding a little more ungrateful than she intended, so Agatha plastered on a smile.

  “Cheer up. Only two and a half weeks to go.”

  Agatha knew she really should focus on the positive. Things were going well with the renovation. The fervor was dying down over Waynard’s hidden treasure. Officer Griffin had stopped by earlier that day to inform Agatha that the belt buckle had been returned to its rightful owner.

  Case closed.

  Or so she thought.

  The ride to town raised her spirits. They stopped by Sammi’s and had an early dinner, then went to the grocery store and bought too much food. It was well past dark when they pulled back into her driveway at the B&B. She whistled as she walked through the ground floor. Even with plastic drapes and paint cloths, it looked better. She was excited about the renovation and eager to improve the space that she offered to others.

  Agatha had never even considered owning a Bed & Breakfast. That was her brother Samuel’s dream, but she found that she liked it. In many ways it reminded her of caring for a large family. Raising five children had been the joy of her life. When her husband had died, when she was in her forties, she’d felt as if she didn’t know which direction to turn next. Over the next fifteen years, her four sons and daughter had become adults, married, and most had moved into their own place. Agatha had been unmoored.