I dialed Dean Klink’s office number.
“Hello.” His jovial voice contrasted with my emotions.
“Hello, Dean Klink? It’s Chloe Humphrey.” I rested my hand on the steering wheel, only to yank it away from the hot surface.
“Chloe, hello? How are you doing? We’re keeping you busy I suspect. By the way, I love your proposal for a learning management system. An absolute must! I’m making it a top priority the next time I meet with the president’s cabinet. I knew you were the right one to hire.”
“Thank you, sir.”
He barked a laugh. “Sir? I thought we told you we weren’t much for formality here.”
“You did. I’m sorry.”
“No need to apologize for that! What can I do for you?” A rap-rap-rap echoed through the line. I imagined the dean tapping the end of his pen on his desk.
“I’m off campus and will be for the rest of the day. My roommate was in a car accident.” I didn’t mention my roommate was a runaway Amish or that the bishop was dead. Details of the accident would travel through Appleseed Creek soon enough.
He took a sharp breath. “Oh dear, that’s awful. Is she all right?”
Was she all right? An excellent question. “She has a broken arm.”
“She’s lucky to be alive. Take all the time you need.”
“Thank you, Dean.”
“Now, I told you to call me Charlie.” His upbeat tone had returned.
“I’ll try.”
A vehicle backfired behind me, and a truck roared into the parking place next to mine. A green pickup. My stomach turned. The two men who had harassed Becky on the highway were inside.
“Well, well, well, looky who’s here,” the scrawny one said.
“It’s Red.” Babyface climbed out of the pickup. “We haven’t seen her since her little friend made me skin my knee.”
“Go away,” I said as he sauntered up to my door. The power windows were down, and I didn’t have the truck’s keys to raise them. I hit the locks, but knew that Babyface could reach inside the cabin and open the door if he wanted.
“Do you want to see the scar I have from falling down?” The faint hint of alcohol sullied the air between us.
The driver snorted a laugh.
“Leave me alone.”
The driver spat. “We’re just visiting with you. That’s not very neighborly of you to turn us away like this—and we are neighbors of yours. Grover is a real nice street, real nice.”
A shiver traveled down my spine. The green pickup had been driving up and down my street, watching the house. “There are police inside the hospital. If I scream, they will hear me.”
He snickered. “We wouldn’t want that.”
“What are you doing here anyway?” Babyface leered. “Are you visiting your little friend?”
“’Course she is, Brock. Red loves to save little Amish girls in trouble. This one is in a heap of trouble too.” He tsked. “Mowing down an Amish big shot is never a good idea. I wonder what made her do it.”
Brock let loose a laugh. “Maybe the big shot had it coming.”
The other one nodded, like this was all making sense. “Could be. I always suspected there was something off about those buggy riders.” His grin widened. “Hate to see a pretty girl end up in prison.”
Brock smirked and fingered the door lock. “She’ll be very popular on the cellblock, I’m sure.”
Nausea washed over me.
I scanned the cabin for something I could use as a weapon. Timothy’s tool belt lay on the floor, a screwdriver sticking out of one of the pockets. I would have preferred a hammer, but the screwdriver would work.
“Why don’t you get out of the truck and we can talk about this?” Brock taunted. “We have some experience with the police. Maybe we can help you and your friend.” He doubled over in laughter, his hand still on the door.
I grabbed the screwdriver by the blade and whacked the handle on Brock’s fingers. He yelped and let go.
The thinner man convulsed with laughter until the hospital door opened and the deputy stepped outside. He spoke into a cell phone with his back to us.
The driver cocked his head at Brock. “Let’s go.”
Brock climbed back into the truck, cradling his hand. “See you around, Red.” Somehow I knew he meant that.
Epilogue
Tuesday morning, I sat in the second row of a small courtroom in the Knox County courthouse in Mount Vernon.
Even the fact that Becky had been kidnapped the day before wouldn’t convince the Knox County judge to move her court date for sentencing. Becky sat next to Tyler Hart in the row in front of me.
Timothy squeezed my hand. “It’s going to be fine,” he whispered. He was the only one from the Troyer family to attend. He told me that the Amish want as little interaction with English government as possible, but I wondered if Becky was hurt that her parents weren’t by her side for the verdict.
The bailiff faced us. “All rise.”
A rotund man in a black robe climbed to the bench. The judge sat, and so did the others in the courtroom. There weren’t many. Becky’s sentencing was not a big draw.
The judge’s bushy eyebrows knitted together. He addressed the prosecutor. “Do you accept the guilty plea?”
“We do.” The prosecutor wore a suit that must have cost half of his monthly salary.
The judge nodded and glared at Becky. “I hope you understand the seriousness of your offense, young lady. I understand some of the circumstances leading up to this accident were no fault of your own. The vehicle was tampered with; however, that does not discount that you were an unlicensed and uninsured motorist. A more experienced driver may have avoided the fatal accident.”
I shifted in my seat. That was a little harsh of the judge to say. Timothy touched my wrist, and I stopped squirming.
“I do,” Becky whispered.
“I can’t hear you,” the judge bellowed.
Becky cowered, but then straightened. “I do understand, sir.” She spoke in a clear voice.
“Good. It is the decision of this court to follow the prosecution’s recommendation. You are forbidden to apply for a driver’s license until your twenty-fifth birthday, you have one year of probation, and you must complete one thousand hours of community service.” He glared at her. “Although I usually feel that it does a young person some good, I don’t think in this case that prison time is needed.”
Tears pricked my eyes.
“Thank you, your honor.”
The judge slammed his gavel on the bench. “Hart, get yourself and your client out of my courtroom.”
Tyler nodded and shuffled Becky toward the exit. Timothy and I hurried after them. We met in the rotunda outside of the room.
“Is the judge always that cranky?” I asked Tyler.
“Always.” He grinned and patted Becky on the shoulder. “Well, kiddo, you’re going to be okay.” He shook my hand. “I’ll call you later today with the information about her probation officer.”
“I never thought I would be happy to hear about a probation officer,” I said.
Timothy threw his arms around Becky and they hugged. “Me either.”
Tyler tipped his head. “I have another case this morning, so I will let you all celebrate.” His footsteps echoed as he hurried across the rotunda.
Timothy pulled me into the hug with him and Becky. It was our own little circle, our own little family. When I first moved to Appleseed Creek, all I thought about was moving away from it. Now I wondered if I’d ever want to leave.
Together, we strolled out of the courthouse arm in arm. Timothy released me and gave Becky another big, brotherly hug.
As he did, I spotted an Amish man across the street, scowling at us. It was Deacon Sutte
r. I bit my lip. Soon the Amish district will need to choose a new bishop. Will it be Deacon Sutter? If the deacon wasn’t chosen, how will he react, and what were his plans for the disobedient Troyer family?
Becky tugged my arm. “Come on, Chloe, Timothy’s taking us to breakfast to celebrate.”
I pushed away thoughts of the deacon and smiled at Becky’s glowing face. “Breakfast sounds perfect.”
Discussion Questions
1. What was your favorite part of the novel? Why?
2. Which character did you identify with the most? Why?
3. What did you learn about Amish culture in this book that you did not know before?
4. What aspect of Amish culture do you most admire? What aspect do you disagree with?
5. The protagonist, Chloe Humphrey, has a difficult relationship with her father. How is that relationship similar to Amish shunning?
6. The author lived in Knox County for three years during her twenties. How do you think that influenced the novel?
7. What do you think of the author’s description of Knox County, Ohio? Is it a place you’d like to visit?
8. The protagonist, Chloe Humphrey, has a cat named Gigabyte, and a central character, Timothy Troyer, has a dog named Mabel. Why do you think animal characters are so prevalent in mystery novels?
9. The novel shows that Amish differ from order to order and from district to district. How does that apply to Christian denominations in general?
10. Becky Troyer and her brother Timothy leave the Amish for different reasons. Do you think their reasons were believeable?
11. The author, Amanda Flower, considers herself a cozy mystery author. Do you know what makes a mystery “cozy”? What makes A Plain Death a cozy mystery?
12. Of the antagonists in the novel, which do you dislike the most? And why?
13. Before the end of the novel, who did you think the culprit was? Were you right?
14. What do you think about the conclusion of the mystery? What about it surprised you?
15. What do you think the future holds for Chloe and Timothy?
Acknowledgments
I am so grateful for my wonderful agent Nicole Resciniti. She’s in the business of making dreams come true and is the very best at the job. I thank my editors: Julie Gwinn for her thoughtful comments, and Julie Carobini for her eagle eye while critiquing all of the Appleseed Creek Mysteries. Each novel is stronger because of them.
I send best wishes to my writing buddies Amanda Carlson, Marisa Cleveland, Jen J. Danna, Marianne Harden, Melissa Landers, and Cecy Robson. I foresee bright and beautiful futures for all.
I’m so thankful for my family and friends who have supported me over the years. Special thanks to my mom, Pamela Flower, who never tires of reading my work—even the roughest of first drafts.
And finally, I want to thank my heavenly Father for allowing wishes made by a shy eleven-year-old girl to come true.
A Plain Scandal, Digital Edition
Based on Print Edition
Copyright © 2013 by Amanda Flower
All rights reserved.
Printed in the United States of America
978-1-4336-7698-7
Published by B&H Publishing Group,
Nashville, Tennessee
Dewey Decimal Classification: F
Subject Heading: AMISH—FICTION MYSTERY FICTION HOMICIDE—FICTION
Publisher’s Note: The characters and events in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to actual persons or events is coincidental.
For Delia Teodosiu Haidautu
I’m forever thankful we were assigned
the same study hall in tenth grade.
Dear Reader Letter
Dear Reader,
The idea for A Plain Scandal came to me while I was in the middle of writing A Plain Death, the first novel in the Appleseed Creek Mystery Series. This was during the fall of 2011. During that time, a group of Ohio Amish were in the local and national news. A half dozen men in a breakaway Amish group in Holmes County, which is right next to Knox County where my series is set, were arrested for cutting off the hair of Amish women and the beards of Amish men in their old district. They did this because they had a disagreement over doctrine and district rules. The men were charged with committing a religiously-motivated hate crime, a federal offense.
Having lived in Ohio my entire life, I can safely say the Amish are seldom in the news even at a local level, and Amish on Amish crime like this is rare. I’m not saying there is no crime in the Amish communities because there most certainly is, but little of it is known outside of the culture. The Amish guard their privacy and prefer to handle any disciplinary actions themselves. The fact the Amish harmed in this case reached out to the local police in Holmes County for help made this story different.
The true story is heartbreaking, and I feel for all the victims involved. However, as a mystery author, I couldn’t help but think of how this story could play out in a novel and fit well into the story arch I have planned for the entire series. From that realization, the beginning on A Plain Scandal was born.
Of course, I am a cozy mystery author, so although the true story inspiring the novel is dark, this mystery is light and humorous.
I hope this story teaches you something new about the Amish culture. May the characters make you smile, the mystery raise your suspicions, and the romance touch your heart.
Blessings and Happy Reading!
Amanda Flower
Chapter One
In the church’s cloakroom, I searched for my black peacoat among the sea of black fabric. A flickering dome fixture in the ceiling lighted the way as my fingers rifled through the tightly packed garments. Wooden hangers knocked together like Asian wooden chimes, and I was no closer to finding the peacoat.
I should invest in brighter colored outwear. Black was the go-to color of choice for the Mennonites of Appleseed Creek, Ohio. Perhaps I would buy a nice royal blue or purple coat as an early Christmas present to myself. Red was out of the question, because it would clash with my hair.
Two women in long skirts and sensible shoes stepped into the tiny room. “I’m telling you, I’ve never seen anything like it,” one of the women told her companion. Her brown-gray hair fell in a long braid from the base of her head to the waistband of her skirt. “It’s scandalous and makes everyone in the district look bad.”
Her friend pulled a ski coat from a hanger and struggled into it. The puffy jacket accentuated her plump figure. “And to attack the bishop’s daughter like that.”
“It’s terrible. She’s such a sweet girl. Not particularly bright, but sweet. I always prefer she wait on me at the bakery,” the woman with the braid confided. “The bishop’s daughter may give me the wrong change, but she does it with a smile on her face. The other girl who works there acts like she’s doing me a favor by selling me a loaf of bread.” She patted her slender hip. “As you can see, I’ve had a few too many of those.”
“Don’t be silly. You look like you live on carrots and salad.” The woman’s coat ballooned up near her ears as she leaned closer to her friend. “I’ve been thinking about all of this.”
I should have let the ladies know I was there, but instead, I backed further into the closet to better conceal myself.
Braid nodded encouragement. “Yes?”
“This has to be some kind of message to Bishop Hooley.”
“Could be. He’s only been bishop a few weeks, but I heard much has changed in the district since he took the post.”
“My Amish neighbor told me Bishop Hooley is more rigid than Bishop Glick, God rest his soul. Hooley forbade a man from attending Sunday services because the man’s beard was too short.”
Braid searched the top shelf of the cloakroom and collected child-sized hats,
mittens, and gloves. “I heard Hooley broke up a youth social meeting. Sent everyone home and caused quite a stir in the community.”
Braid picked up a fedora she’d knocked to the floor. “Some Amish parties are wild.”
Her friend wrinkled her nose. “Most aren’t, and my neighbor insisted there wasn’t any drinking or carrying on at the party.”
“How would she know? Was she there?”
“No. Her son told her.”
Braid rolled her eyes as she set the fedora back on the shelf. “You know teenagers. Of course, the son would say the party was completely innocent. I don’t have enough fingers and toes to count the number of times my children have lied to my face.”
Ski Coat began to gather her children’s hats and mittens too. “I say if Bishop Hooley thinks the Amish district needs stronger control, there must be a reason.”
I stepped deeper into the closet and knocked the back of my head on a row of empty hangers. They clattered together and swung wildly on their pole. Ski Coat glared at me and whispered something to her friend. Braid nodded, and the pair collected the remainder of their coats and left the cloakroom.
I bit my lip. If the bishop chastised an Amish man about the length of his beard, what did he have planned for the Troyer family? Who attacked Bishop Hooley’s daughter? How was she attacked?
Appleseed Creek Trilogy, Books 1-3 Page 29