Matchmaking Can Be Murder

by Amanda Flower

  As I was leaving the Yoder farm, Ruth stopped me. Even though the potluck was in full swing, I suppose it was too much to hope that I would make a clean getaway.

  “Millie Fisher, you can’t go skulking around my farm and not say hello to me. It’s childish and rude.”

  “I wasn’t skulking, Ruth. I’m sorry if you were offended, but I saw you were busy trying to get the potluck under control, and I didn’t want to interrupt you. The spread looks delectable, by the way. I hope everyone enjoys my Bundt cake. It’s lemon poppy seed.”

  She put her hands on her hips the way she normally did when she was perturbed. “Don’t you go changing the subject! I know you tend to do that when you don’t like what is being discussed.”

  I didn’t argue with her on that point but realized that I would have to change my tactics when arguing with Ruth if she was on to some of my tricks. I couldn’t have that. I needed to keep my strategies fresh. She was a worthy competitor when it came to wit.

  “What did you want to talk to Tucker Leham about?” she asked.

  “What do you think?” I asked. “I was asking him if he might have seen Zeke yesterday before he passed on. Tucker did work at the greenhouse.”

  She harrumphed. “And did he?”

  “He didn’t say,” I said.

  Because I didn’t ask the question, but I thought I’d keep that tidbit to myself. I wanted to kick myself for being so distracted by Tucker’s revelation that Darcy was Zeke’s Englisch girlfriend that it had completely slipped my mind.

  “Well, this is just terrible. We need to take care of this as soon as possible.”

  “Who’s we?” I asked. “And what’s this?” I asked with more than a little trepidation. I had a feeling I wasn’t going to like what I was about to hear.

  “We is Double Stitch, and this is the murder.”

  I blinked at her. “The quilting circle?”

  “Ya.” She nodded as if it made perfect sense. “Double Stitch is a group of women from all over the district. We are all different ages. We all see different things. If we put our heads together, we might be able to figure out what happened to Zeke Miller.”

  Actually, I realized, it wasn’t a terrible idea. She was right about the fact that we all came from different corners of the district, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was a very Amish murder. Even so, I could see from a mile away the problems Ruth’s plan would cause. Raellen was a terrible gossip. Whatever anyone said at the circle would be repeated. Ruth was terribly judgmental, and I wasn’t sure I was up for her criticism of Edith.

  However, Ruth didn’t give me a chance to voice my opinion; instead, she went on to say, “Of course, today is Sunday, so nothing more can be done now. However, I have told the other ladies that we will be having an emergency meeting of Double Stitch at your house. I will let you know when it will be.”

  “Nice of you to call a meeting in my home without asking me,” I muttered.

  “It’s for your own gut, Millie Fisher, and the gut of your family. You should be thanking me. I’ll talk to Iris in particular.”

  I raised my brow.

  “Her husband, Carter, worked with Zeke at the same construction company. He might have some information that we can use.”

  I had forgotten that. “Thank you, Ruth,” I said ironically. “Was there anything else?”

  Her brow shot up in surprise.

  “Gut, if not, I’m going to go home. I hate to miss fellowship, but this has been a very trying day and I need to lie down.”

  She stepped back and let me go. Ruth was never one to argue with a need for a nap. She took one every day. “We’ll see you soon then.”

  I nodded.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  The next day, I couldn’t concentrate on my chores or quilting. I was too preoccupied with the previous day’s events, and the goats weren’t home to distract me either. I knew that I couldn’t sit idly by. I had to go to the Sunbeam Café and speak to Darcy myself.

  By horse and buggy it took me almost an hour to travel from my farm on the outskirts of the village to the village center. It was afternoon and the shops and square were bubbling with activity as people went in and out of the businesses. Tourists bustled about carrying shopping bags, and it seemed to me that Swissmen Sweets, the cheese shop, and the pretzel shop were getting the most business. Across the square from where I stood, I saw redheaded Charlotte Weaver standing outside of Swissmen Sweets passing out free samples of fudge. Seeing her reminded me that I needed to tell the candy makers that Edith’s wedding was off, and we would no longer be in need of a wedding cake. I was sure that they would already have heard that news, but out of respect, I needed to tell them myself. But first, I wanted to talk to Darcy. I couldn’t get what I had learned about the girl off my mind.

  I tied up my buggy in the parking lot between the church and the village playground. The café was only a few yards away.

  I patted the star on Bessie’s forehead. “You will be my escape horse if this goes terribly wrong.”

  She fluttered her long eyelashes at me, and I walked out of the parking lot.

  The big white church was the largest building in Harvest, so the Englisch pastor, Reverend Brook, allowed it to be used for a community meeting place as well, and any time there was any kind of special event on the square, the crown jewel of the village, the church was where things were stored and planned.

  Outside the church, I saw Juliet Brody, Deputy Aiden’s mother, working in the garden. Her black and white polka-dotted potbellied pig Jethro was snoozing next to her in the grass. She waved at me. “Hello, Millie! What brings you to the village on this beautiful day?” She tucked a marigold plant into the ground and piled topsoil around it.

  I walked over to her. As soon as I was within three feet, Jethro got up and started to snuffle my shoes. I wondered if he smelled the goats. “Good afternoon, Juliet. I was just out for a drive on this lovely spring day.”

  Juliet looked up at the sky. “It is lovely, isn’t it? The perfect day to plant—that’s what I told Reverend Brook. I know it’s a bit early, but I could not resist putting a few flowers in. I bought these from Edy’s Greenhouse. I only purchased a few flats but will most certainly be going back.” She stood and removed her gloves, and I saw the large diamond ring on her left hand from her fi-ancé Reverend Brook.

  “When’s the wedding?” I asked.

  “July Fourth weekend. Doesn’t that sound lovely? We’ll celebrate our marriage with fireworks!” She clasped her hands against her chest as if the very idea stopped her heart.

  “That’s less than two months away,” I mused.

  She nodded. “It doesn’t give me much time to plan, but my maid of honor, Bailey, has been such a dear. She’s done so much of the work to keep me organized. I keep telling her when she and Aiden get married, it will be a piece of cake, and, seeing how good she is with sweets, it will be even easier for her. I almost look forward to that day as much as my own wedding. I can’t wait until we are all a real family. It will be positively perfect.”

  Jethro lay by the flat of marigolds. He sniffed them.

  “Ummm, I think the pig might eat your plants,” I warned.

  She laughed. “Don’t be silly. Jethro would never do that. He knows what is food and what is not. He is a wonderfully well-mannered pig.”

  I wasn’t as sure that was the case when Jethro buried his nose in one of the blossoms.

  “Is everything at the greenhouse all right?” Juliet asked.

  I turned my attention away from the pig and back to her. “What do you mean?”

  She waved at me with her purple polka-dotted garden gloves, which matched her long-sleeved dress. “I’m sure it was nothing, but Edith seemed so distracted and worried when I was there.”

  “When were you there?” I asked.

  “Friday morning.”

  Well before the murder, I thought.

  “I had some questions to ask her about taking care of the shrubs
we bought from her for the church last year,” Juliet said. “And I got the distinct feeling that she was trying to get rid of me. She kept looking over my shoulder as if she was searching for someone else.”

  “Was anyone else there?” I asked. “Was she worried about another customer?”

  She shrugged. “Not that I could see. I was the only customer, and it was during the school day, so the only child there was her little girl and she was quietly playing with some blocks in the front yard.”

  I pressed my lips together. This was bothersome. It wasn’t like Edith to ignore a customer. She was lucky that Juliet was such an easygoing one and had been buying plants from Edy’s Greenhouse for years. I wasn’t afraid that Edith would lose Juliet as a customer, but I was concerned she’d been so distracted by something and someone else that she’d ignored Juliet’s questions. This was before Zeke’s death, so was she worried about breaking up her engagement or something else, something that would lead to Zeke’s death?

  “I also found it strange that I was the only customer there. Usually this time of year the greenhouse is bustling with shoppers. Doesn’t everyone have to buy flowers for spring planting? It can’t just be me, can it? I distinctly remember going there last year and seeing many more people shopping, and now that I think about it, I saw many more people working there too. However, the day I went, it was just Edith and me, and the little girl too, I suppose.”

  I bit the inside of my lip. What had been going on at my niece’s greenhouse that would cause such a drop in business? I had to think Zeke was behind it. Why, when I could only assume he wanted to marry Edith for control of the greenhouse, would he do anything that might threaten the business? It didn’t make any sense to me at all.

  Juliet squeezed her gloves in her hands as if she was saying a prayer. “Oh, I can tell that I have upset you. I’m certain it’s nothing to worry about. She’s such a sweet girl, and her children are darling. I would hate for anything bad to happen. She’s been so brave and strong since her husband died.” She shook her head. “Terrible tragedy. I hate to see drugs in any community, but to know that they have even reached the Amish, that is somehow more heartbreaking. I just don’t think your community has the resources in place to deal with such a problem.”

  I made no comment on this. But I didn’t want Juliet to think my niece had been acting oddly. It was clear to me that she hadn’t heard about Zeke’s murder yet. If she had, she would have said something about it. Gossip about his death was running through the Amish community like wildfire, and I was relieved to know it hadn’t gotten so widespread as to cross over to the Englischers just yet.

  I smiled. “I’m sure it was just the pressure of the growing season that was distracting her. This is the busiest season for the greenhouse. I would guess that she was waiting for a delivery of more flowers when you arrived. That’s the most likely reason she was looking over her shoulder. Also,” I went on, “there are lulls throughout the day at any business. You must have just hit the greenhouse at a slow time. That would explain why no one else was around.”

  She loosened the stranglehold on her garden gloves. “Yes, that must be it. I’m sure you are right. That’s such a relief to hear.”

  It was time to change the subject, I thought. “Have you been to the new café in the village?”

  “Oh, you must mean the Sunbeam Café. Yes, it opened right after Easter. It is adorable. Jethro and I love the quiche they make here.”

  “You take Jethro into the café?” I asked.

  “Of course. He comes with me everywhere.” She smiled. “The café is really darling. You should visit while you’re here.”

  “I might just do that,” I said, and then I looked down. Jethro had his head buried in the flat of marigolds and was chomping away. “Oh dear!”

  “What?” Juliet asked and then she yelped. “Jethro!”

  The pig froze.

  Juliet put her hands on her hips. “Oh, Jethro! How could you?”

  The pig looked up at her with big brown eyes, and marigold petals hanging from his lips.

  Juliet laughed. “How can I stay mad at that face?”

  I had no idea.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  I said my good-byes to Juliet and her pig and walked beyond the church, past the newly renovated playground to the Sunbeam Café. The bright yellow sun painted on the side of the building was cheerful, as was the yellow awning, but I wasn’t feeling cheerful. Just days ago, I had been reunited with my childhood friend for the first time in nearly twenty years, and now I considered her granddaughter a murder suspect? That was no way to rekindle a friendship.

  I straightened my shoulders and went into the café. A bell jingled when I entered. Today, the only guest in the café was the man that I had seen previously, clicking away on his laptop. I had arrived between the breakfast and lunch rush.

  “You drink up that coffee. Seems to me you have a lot of writing to do,” Lois said to the man sitting by the window.

  I had noticed him the day before, but I hadn’t looked at him carefully. He had close-cropped hair, wore jeans, and was very tall. I could see that by the way he had to tilt his legs so that they would fit under the table. He had a plain face and utterly forgettable features. This was probably why I didn’t remember the details of his appearance from the day before.

  “Millie Fisher, I didn’t expect to see you again so soon!” Lois said and set her coffeepot on an empty table nearby. “I was kicking myself that I didn’t get your phone number—I assume you have access to a shed phone somehow—or your address before you left, and here you are in the flesh.”

  I smiled. “It’s good to see you again.”

  “I am so glad to see you. I wasn’t sure if Ruth would let you all come back here to host another quilting circle. I was going to reach out to ask you to visit whenever you might be free.”

  “Oh, I’m sure that we will be back with the quilting circle,” I said with a smile. “Ruth doesn’t have veto power over the rest of us, even though she might think she does.”

  “When we were children and Ruth agreed to play with us, she thought she had veto power over our games too.”

  “She was wrong then too,” I said with a grin.

  She laughed. “Darn right.”

  She pointed at the man with the laptop. “Bryan, you good?” She held up her thumb at him.

  “I’m fine, Lois. I’m just grappling with these characters that don’t want to listen to me.”

  I must have had an inquisitive look on my face because Lois said, “Bryan Shell is a writer and is currently at work on the great American novel—right, Bryan?”

  The writer held up his thumb at her this time but never looked up from his computer screen.

  “He’s been here almost every day since we opened last month,” Lois said to me. “He’s a nice young man.” She ushered me forward. “Enough about that. Take a seat, take a seat. I’m tickled that you came back and left Ruth Yoder behind this time.” She shook her head. “That woman! Is she just as judgmental as she was when we were younger?”

  “More now, I would think. She’s older and she happens to be the bishop’s wife.”

  Lois laughed. “The bishop’s wife? There will be no stopping her now.”

  Lois didn’t know the half of it.

  “Do you still like your coffee black with no sugar, cream, or flavor?” she asked.

  I nodded.

  “Well, you’re not getting it today.” She shook her glittery pink-tipped finger at me. “You are going to have one of Darcy’s mochas. She taught me how to make it. Don’t you worry—it’s delicious!”

  I opened my mouth to protest. From what I remembered Lois was as terrible a cook as her mother had been. She grew up on TV dinners or ate at my house when we were children.

  “No, I’m not taking no for an answer. There is nothing un-Amish about a mocha.” She paused. “You’re not diabetic, are you?”

  I shook my head and sat down at the table closest to the cou
nter.

  “Good. You look fit as ever, must be that clean Amish living. You haven’t rounded out like I have, but seeing that I’m a grandmother, I don’t mind having a little extra weight on my hips. It gives me grandma cred. You look like you could use something to eat. My granddaughter makes the best vegetable soup you’ve ever tasted. I’d challenge any Amish cook to claim that she makes a better one. You need a large bowl of that and some crusty bread. You look like you have the weight of the world on your shoulders.” Her face broke into a smile. “We didn’t have a chance to catch up! And our reunion is twenty years in the making—I’ve missed you, Millie!”

  I felt something catch me in the throat. I had missed her too. I’d thought of her often over the years.

  She clapped her hands. “But we need to feed you before we get down to business.”

  Business? What business could we be getting down to? As happy as I was to see her again, she didn’t know why I was really there, to talk to her granddaughter about Zeke Miller. Before I could ask, she disappeared around the counter and through the door into what I guessed was the kitchen. I sat there for a moment, trying to process all that had happened in the last three minutes.

  Lois, that’s what happened. I never thought for a moment when moving back to Ohio that I would see Lois again. The last I heard she’d moved to Cleveland. The last time I had seen her had been at my husband’s funeral twenty years ago. After Kip died, my family circled around me, pushing everyone else away. I had been in too much shock to argue with them. By the time I came out of my fog, Lois had moved away, and no one could tell me where she had gone. I had been devastated because I thought I’d lost my friend forever, but here she was again many years later.

  I smoothed the swirl-covered tablecloth on the table. There had been many times in the last few years that I’d wondered what had happened to my childhood friend. I regretted not having tried harder to find her in all these years.