I stepped back from her. “Assignment? What assignment?”
“The assignment to drag you home. Jean Pierre sent me to fetch you and bring you back. He and I both agree you would do much better dealing with this murder business from NYC.” She brushed dirt off her sleeve. “This is my favorite trench coat. See what I go through just to come to your rescue? The coat will have to be dry-cleaned or sent through a biohazard unit. I’m not sure which yet.”
“Wait,” I said, blinking. “Where on earth could you have been that you have dirt on your sleeve?” Cass was the most impeccably dressed and clean chocolatier I knew. Sometimes when I was working on a chocolate showpiece, it appeared as if I had rolled in chocolate, but no matter how messy the project, Cass never had a dot of chocolate on her. Now, here she was, standing in front of me with dirt on her sleeve.
“It was terrible, Bai, absolutely terrible. Jean Pierre sent me to Ohio in his private jet, which was glorious. I had cheese and champagne on board. It was nice to see how a world-famous chocolatier lives, and I am certainly going to expect the same from you when you snag JP’s position.”
I rolled my eyes. “I seriously doubt I will ever have the need for a private jet.” Jean Pierre retained ownership in the company. I would have some stock options, but nothing like the buyout he’d acquired when the stocks for his company went public.
“Don’t say such a thing. Everyone has a need for a private jet.” She took a deep breath. “The flight was lovely, but it all went downhill from there. A taxi came to pick me up from the airport, which was about the size of a mall parking lot, by the way. The van had no markings on it to indicate it was a taxi, but the driver assured me that he was the right one, and when we were underway, he said he had to pick up a few other customers. I objected, but he wouldn’t listen to reason.”
“I bet you did.” I covered my mouth to hide a smile.
Cass caught the smile and narrowed her eyes. “We rambled around the countryside, picking up Amish farmers everywhere we stopped. By the time we got to Harvest, there were seven people crammed elbow to elbow and hip to hip in that van. I don’t even think a circus could get another clown in there. All of the farmers were dirty, which is how my coat got ruined. I think I was in that car for four hours, but then again it might have been eight. Time was meaningless after a point.”
I bit down hard on the inside of my lower lip. Cass had let me get away with the smile, but a chuckle would not be tolerated. “It sounds to me like you got stuck in an Amish taxi.”
“An Amish man wasn’t driving,” she protested.
My smile widened. “The Amish don’t drive cars, so they have Englishers like us drive them from place to place. You hitched a ride on what’s known around here as an Amish taxi.”
She scowled. “Well, that will be the last time.” She shivered. “Surely this county has normal taxis too.” She shook her head, and her purple bangs fell over her dark eyes again. “It doesn’t matter. I think I remember you saying that you got a rental car for your visit. We’ll take that back to the airport and get out of here. Let’s go.” She turned as if to march back up the sidewalk from where she came.
“Cass, I can’t leave.”
She spun around and stared at me. “Don’t tell me you like it here. Because if you do, I just might have to slap you. You can’t possibly like it here. There’s dirt. A lot of it.”
“There’s dirt in Manhattan too,” I said.
She folded her arms. “But not on me.”
“Didn’t Jean Pierre tell you why I was stuck here before he sent you?”
“I know about the murder, of course, but that’s no reason for you to stay. That gives you every reason to get out of here. Was there something else?”
Wasn’t a murder enough, I wondered, but before I could say it aloud, Cass went on.
“You know Jean Pierre. He was all like ‘Oh Cassandra, please jump into my plane and retrieve Bailey. She’s been gone too long.’” She said this in a terrible attempt at a French accent. “Is your grandfather worse?” Her face creased with concern.
“He’s about the same, but that’s not why I can’t leave just yet.” I took a deep breath. “I’m a murder suspect. I’m the number one suspect, actually. I was just at the sheriff’s department being interrogated by the county sheriff himself. He ordered me to stay in the county.”
She blinked at me. “Come again?”
I wrapped my arm around her shoulders. “Let’s go to my grandparents’ shop, and I’ll tell you the whole story there. We need chocolate for this conversation.”
Cass slipped out from under my arm. “You can’t just say you are a murder suspect and say we need chocolate! I mean I love chocolate as much as the next chocolatier, but Bailey, come on.”
I glanced around. There were still a few people walking around the town square—an English couple and some Amish women out for a stroll. All evidence of the farmers’ market was gone. “Let’s not talk about it out here.”
We paused to collect her giant suitcase before setting off toward Swissmen Sweets. Both of us pulled the mammoth piece of luggage down the sidewalk. “If you thought we were heading straight back to New York, why did you pack so much? This thing weighs a ton. I have no idea how you pulled it down the street on your own.”
She brushed her bangs out of her eyes. “I know how stubborn you are and thought it might take at least overnight to convince you to come home with me, so I packed enough for a day or two.”
“This is enough for a month.”
“Not even close.”
Shaking my head, I pushed open the glass door to the candy shop. The front room was empty. “Maami! Daadi!”
Cass stared at me. “What did you say?” She looked around the shop and pointed at the crime scene tape across the kitchen. “What the—”
Before she finished that sentence, my grandmother appeared in the door that led to the stairs up to the apartment. “Bailey, dear, is everything all right? Your daadi and I have been worried sick about you. Aiden called and insisted that you were safe, but I wasn’t as sure.” She spotted Cass and smiled. “Hello there, can we help you? I’m afraid the candy shop is closed today.”
Cass’s mouth fell open.
“Maami, this is my friend Cass from New York,” I said.
My grandmother folded her hands in front of her starched white apron. “How lovely that you’ve come for a visit, Cass. Bailey mentions you often in her letters to us.”
Cass looked from Maami to me and back again. “Maami? Letters?”
I gave Cass a small smile, and my stomach twisted. “Cass, this is my grandmother, Clara King.”
Cass’s mouth opened and closed as she tried to comprehend who Maami was. “But she’s Amish!”
My grandmother chuckled. “I am that.”
Cass turned to me. “Are you Amish? Are you one of those runaway Amish like on television? Amish Gone Wild?”
Maami covered her mouth to hide her smile. Her rounded shoulders moved up and down as she failed to hide her amusement.
I bit my lip to hold back my own laughter. I knew Cass well enough to know that it was never a good idea to laugh at her expense, especially if she wasn’t in on the joke. “I’m not runaway Amish. My father grew up Amish, but I was never Amish because Dad left the faith before I was born.”
“Your dad was Amish? I think I need to sit down.” She glanced at the candy shop. “I assume that you don’t have any wine in here, do you? I could use a glass—or five.”
My grandmother pursed her lips to hide the smile that I knew was there. “We don’t have any spirits, no, but we have fudge.”
“Fudge will work.” Cass followed my grandmother inside the shop.
Maami patted the front table in the room. “You sit right there, and I’ll fetch you a nice big piece.”
My grandfather shuffled into the front room of the shop, pushing his walker. I couldn’t help but notice that he was breathing harder than he had been that morning. The Amish we
re proud people, and my grandfather wouldn’t want me to draw attention to his poor health in the company of someone he didn’t know.
While Cass took in the room, I made introductions.
My grandfather tipped his hat at her. “Wilkomme, Cass. It’s nice to meet one of our Bailey’s friends from the big city.”
Seeing Daadi had less of an effect on her. Of course, she might have been distracted by the large X of yellow crime scene tape that crisscrossed the door leading to the kitchen.
“I knew there was a murder,” Cass said to me, “but you didn’t tell me in your text that it happened in here. That’s what the crime scene tape means, doesn’t it?”
My grandfather made a pained face.
“It’s a long story,” I said. “But it has a lot to do with why I can’t go back home just now.”
Maami set a thick piece of milk chocolate fudge on a plain white plate in front of Cass.
My friend made no move to touch it. “Bailey, what happened?”
Maami took a step back. “I think you girls have much to talk about.” Maami put her hand on my grandfather’s shoulder. “Why don’t we go upstairs and let the girls visit for a while? How long will be you be staying, Cass?”
Her dark eyes glanced in my direction. “That depends on Bailey.”
I was relieved when she didn’t mention that she was there on an errand from Jean Pierre to fetch me. If she had, I had no doubt that my grandfather would have personally put me on Jean Pierre’s private jet and sent me back to New York. What Daadi didn’t know was that the sheriff would most likely view my leaving as fleeing and an admission of guilt.
“You don’t have to go upstairs,” I said. “I think Cass could use some fresh country air. You can’t find air like this anywhere in the city.” I stood.
“That’s a gut idea,” my grandfather said. “Fresh air always clears the mind. I’d go out myself if I felt up to it, but I’ll stay here and keep your maami company.”
I felt my brow knit together in concern. Cass frowned. I knew that she caught on that Daadi wasn’t doing well
“Don’t be too long,” my grandmother said. “I have dinner ready for you upstairs. I made chicken and dumplings. I know it’s your favorite.” She nodded to Cass. “There’s plenty for you both.”
Cass opened her mouth, and I knew what she was going to say. I ushered her toward the door. Before we left, she scooped up the piece of fudge. “Something tells me I’m going to need this.”
Chapter 24
As the front door of Swissmen Sweets closed behind us, Cass said, “I think being a vegetarian while I’m here will be a challenge.”
“Don’t worry about that. Maami always has plenty of food in the pantry. I’ll be able to make you something to eat.”
“Why did you stop me from telling them that I was a vegetarian? Is that a problem for the Amish? Against their religion?”
I laughed. “They won’t care, but I thought we’d had enough culture shock for the moment.”
She held up her napkin-wrapped piece of fudge. “And there is always chocolate to eat too. I won’t starve.” She lowered her hand. “Now, are you going to tell me what’s going on, or not? Why did you never tell me you were Amish?”
I quickened my pace down the sidewalk, toward the corner where I had left my car the day before. “I’m not Amish. My father was. I told you that.”
Six inches shorter than me, Cass jogged to catch up. Her impractical high-heeled boots made a rapid tap-tap on the pavement, and for a moment, I was transported to New York by the familiar sound. A wave of homesickness washed over me. Would I ever be able to return to the city? I wouldn’t if the sheriff had his way. I would be spending the rest of my life in a cold, dank prison in Ohio and die of pneumonia.
“I think there is more to the dead guy story than you told me in your text. Was I right that he died in the shop? Is that why the crime scene tape was there? Don’t tell me that’s how the Amish like to decorate.”
“I promise to tell you everything, but first, we have some shopping to do.”
“Bailey, what are you talking about? Shopping?” She ran ahead and planted her body directly in front of me, blocking my progress down the sidewalk. “How can you think about shopping? And you don’t even like to shop. I have to drag you kicking and screaming into the boutiques in the city. You tell me you’re a murder suspect, and I learn you’re Amish, and you want to go buy a new pair of jeans or something. What the heck?”
I pointed at the rental. “My car is right there. Can you at least wait until we get inside before I tell you?”
“All right.” She shook her finger at me. “But I want details, King. Don’t leave anything out.”
I rolled my eyes and stepped around her. Once we were inside the car, I took a deep breath and told her an abbreviated version of the events of the last two days.
She swore. “This is unbelievable.”
I stuck my key into the ignition. “Agreed. I’ve had some time to get used to the idea.”
She grabbed my hand before I could turn the key. “Do you have a lawyer?”
I shook my head. “I’m sure my grandparents don’t know a criminal attorney in Ohio, neither would any of their Amish friends.”
She shook her head as if trying to shake something loose. “This is trippy, as my mom would have said. There is no other word that works.”
I smiled. Cass had told me some stories of growing up with her hippy mother. In fact, she had told me much more of her life than I had ever told her of mine.
She let go of my hand and reached for her seatbelt buckle. Clicking it into place, she said, “I’ll call my brother. I’m sure he knows some people.”
Cass’s brother had done a couple of stints in prison for white collar crimes such as tax evasion. According to Cass, he’d deserved more time behind bars than he was given. He would know a good lawyer.
“Sometimes it helps to have a crook in the family.” She grinned.
I felt tears gather in the corners of my eyes. “Thank you.” My voice caught.
She unbuckled her seatbelt and leaned across the car to hug me. “Oh Bai, I know this is messed up, but we’ll figure it out. I’m here now. I’ll do whatever I can, even if it means punching that mean old sheriff in the mouth.” She squeezed me one more time and settled back into her seat, buckling up again.
I wiped a tear from the corner of my eye. “That won’t be necessary, but you can start helping me by pulling off an old, culinary school all-nighter.”
She eyed me. “What?”
I turned the key in the ignition. “I’ll tell you on the way to the supermarket.”
She fell back into her seat with a groan. Her purple bangs hid her eyes from sight.
* * *
By the time we reached the supermarket, I had brought Cass up to speed about the Hutton-Colton wedding, and she was already arguing with me about my dessert choices. Some of her suggestions were spot on. I was so grateful she was there. Cass was a world-class chocolatier, but she had just never had the opportunity at JP Chocolates to show off what she could do. I had asked Jean Pierre many times to give her a chance to make one of the big chocolate sculptures for his celebrity clients, but he never had. He always preferred to give those jobs to Caden or me. Thinking of Caden made me realize how close I was to losing the head chocolatier promotion to him. Every day I was away from JP Chocolates, my hold on the promotion lessened.
I turned into the parking lot, and Cass stared out the window. “Look at all those buggies!”
There was a hitching post that ran the length of the parking lot, and six horses and buggies were tethered to it. One of the horses wore a green horse blanket, but the rest were barebacked. It was still early in the autumn. I knew from my childhood visits to Amish Country at Christmas, that in the winter they would all have blankets on their backs.
An Amish man carrying a white plastic bag from the grocery store in one hand held the hand of a young boy in plain dress in the other
. The boy carried an open bag of Doritos.
“Am I in some kind of time warp? A time warp where the pilgrims eat Doritos?”
I was about to answer her when I saw Emily Esh climb out of one of the buggies and shuffle toward the store.
I unbuckled my seatbelt. “We have to follow her. Get out of the car. Let’s go.” I flung open the door and jumped out.
“Wait? What?” cried Cass, who was still in the car.
I was already outside on the lot. I grabbed my purse, slung it over my shoulder, and stuck my head back inside the car. “Do you want to save me from a murder rap or what?”
She unbuckled her seatbelt. “Okay, fine.”
Chapter 25
Inside the supermarket, I grabbed a shopping cart. “Try to blend in,” I whispered to Cass.
She stared at me. “Bai, I have purple hair. Even I know that’s not the norm in these parts.”
I spotted Emily in the produce section. “Come on!” I pushed my cart into the aisle.
“If you are going for casual spy, you are failing miserably,” Cass grumbled. “You might as well carry a magnifying glass, the way you are suspiciously glancing around. You look like you’re either hunting someone—which you are—or afraid you’re going to be jumped by a clan of marauders.”
I peeked at her. “Marauders? Really?”
She selected five cartons of strawberries. “I think chocolate-dipped strawberries are a must for a wedding. Who are we stalking anyway? I’d like to know the victim.”
“She’s not a victim.” I dropped lemons in my cart and turned away from Emily to face Cass. “Do you see that young Amish girl by the lettuce? She’s Emily Esh, the sister of one of the Amish shopkeepers, Esther, who sold out to Tyson Colton before he died. Now that he’s dead, Esther’s not selling her building anymore.”
Cass lowered her voice. “So you think Esther or Emily killed him to keep their shop? But then why sell to him in the first place if she didn’t want to move?”
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