Carol, a middle-aged woman, worked in Young’s pie shop. She was one of the few English people who worked at Young’s on a permanent basis. Owner Ellie Young claimed she couldn’t turn Carol away because she had some of the best pie recipes in the county—if not in the entire state of Ohio—trapped in her head.
Becky flew through the front door of the house just as Carol pulled into our driveway. I stepped out of the truck at a much slower pace as Carol powered down her window.
I waved. “Becky’s run—”
Before I finished my sentence, Becky ran back outside with her Amish uniform—a dress and apron—slung over her arm, and jumped into Carol’s car.
Timothy laughed. “I think that lecture Ellie gave Becky about being late for work scared her straight.”
As we entered the house, my yowling Siamese cat, Gigabyte, greeted us. I removed my coat and scratched Gig under the chin, but he was not appeased and batted my hand away.
Because he was headed to work at Young’s as well, Timothy didn’t remove his coat. In addition to the restaurant, with its small Amish gift shop and bakery, the Young’s owned a flea market consisting of three open-air pavilions behind the main building. Timothy was the head contractor on a project to enclose those pavilions so the flea market could be open all year round.
“Do you have to go straight to Young’s?” I asked. It seemed odd that I didn’t have to go to work myself. The college was closed for winter break, with only a skeleton crew on campus. I stopped by the campus occasionally during break to check on the systems and servers, but beyond that, had no commitments.
A small smiled played on the corners of Timothy’s lips. “No.”
I steadied my gaze on him. “I’d like to go to Uncle Billy’s. Will you go with me?”
Timothy grinned at me. “I was just waiting for you ask.”
I laughed. “How did you know that I would?”
“I think I know you pretty well by now, Chloe Humphrey. I know you won’t rest until you talk to Billy.” He helped me back into my winter coat. “And neither will I.”
Chapter Six
Snow buried the graveyard of auto parts in front of Billy’s property, and ice clung to the sign that read, Uncle Billy’s Bud. The rest of the sign—get Autos—had been destroyed in a storm over a decade before.
Mabel barked as Timothy’s pickup came to a stop. For once, the dog was wide awake and willingly exited the truck after I climbed out. My boots sank into the freshly fallen snow until they reached the hard-packed layer underneath. Two sets of tire tracks carved up the lawn that served as a parking lot, and half-a-dozen pairs of footprints dotted the ground. One set of footprints wove through the graveyard, and there was evidence of digging in the snow. A quarter of a red sedan hood was visible, the only lump in the auto graveyard unearthed.
Timothy pulled on his gloves, so that they covered his wrists. “Greta and her officers have already searched the place.”
“It would have surprised me if she hadn’t been through here.” I took another step toward the shop itself and my foot caught as I tripped over something buried under the snow. Timothy caught me by the elbow, keeping me from tumbling to the ground.
The day had reached late afternoon. We had maybe an hour before sunset. Timothy lifted a hand to block the sun’s glare off the snow. “I’m surprised that Billy hasn’t come outside yet.”
“Do you think Chief Rose arrested him?”
His brow furrowed. “I don’t know. Greta wouldn’t make an arrest without being positive the person was guilty. She’s too careful to rush anything, and it’s only been seven hours since we found Katie. Could the case be wrapped up that quickly?”
“He was using the barn as a storehouse without permission.”
Timothy’s eyes flashed. “That doesn’t mean he killed anyone.”
I pulled on his sleeve. “I know he’s your friend.”
Timothy marched toward the office and knocked on the door like a cop. Thwack, thwack, thwack. Had Chief Rose taught him to knock on a door like that?
No answer. He tried the doorknob, but it was locked. “I know another way inside.” He walked around the side of the building, as Mabel barked and followed. I fell into line after her. “Watch your step.” He said over one shoulder. “Who knows what’s buried under the snow.”
Did Billy have so much junk on his property to scare people off? If so, a very effective away to discourage visitors from coming too close.
The back of the shop had one entry and two garage doors. One of the garage doors hung crookedly from its bearings. Timothy kicked the snow out of the way, revealing a gap between the bottom of the door and the frozen ground. “There. Billy showed it to me one time when he locked himself out of the shop. He couldn’t fit through it, but he knew that I could.”
The space looked like it couldn’t fit much more than a small dog. It certainly would not have been enough space for Billy, who tipped the scale at three hundred pounds, to crawl under.
Timothy squatted next to the small opening. “It looks like the garage dropped since I crawled under there last summer.”
“It could be the snow pack making the ground higher.”
He moved more snow away with his gloved hand. “Either way, I don’t think I can fit.”
I squatted next to him. “You might not fit, but I can.”
He swiveled a look at me. “You’ll be covered with snow.”
“So what? You were about to do the same thing.” I sat back on my haunches. “Chief Rose won’t like it if we go inside there, though.”
Timothy hand shoveled away more snow. “Greta has already been here.”
“But—”
“Chloe, I have to see inside of the shop. Billy might not be answering the door because he’s upset or maybe there’s a clue to where he’s gone. I need to talk to him. He’s my friend.”
“Okay. Then help me squeeze through.” I lay on my stomach and looked into the dark of the shop, unable to see an inch in front of my face. “Do you have a flashlight?”
Timothy handed me a tiny flashlight connected to his key ring. It wasn’t much, but at least I could see there was plenty of room for me to wiggle through two stacks of worn tires. “I can fit.”
Timothy placed a hand on my shoulder. “Be careful. There are lots of sharp objects in Billy’s shop.”
“I’ll be careful.” I stuck my head and shoulders through the opening. It was a tight squeeze, but I made it and slid on my stomach across the oil-stained concrete floor. The smell of gasoline burned the inside of my nose. I rolled over and bumped the edge of a metal shelf, and an oil can fell to the dusty floor with a bang.
I yelped.
Thankfully the can didn’t explode.
“Are you okay?” Timothy asked.
I steadied my pounding heart. “I’m fine. Meet me at the front door.” I struggled to my feet and dusted off the front of my ski coat. My hand came away smelling like motor oil and caked with dirt. I glanced at my coat. It would need permanent retirement after this little excursion.
The only light in the garage came through the opening under the broken garage door. I shone the key chain flashlight in front me, its light making monstrous shadows on the walls. I took a few tentative steps toward a lightbulb and chain hanging from the ceiling. When I pulled down on the chain, dim yellow light washed over the room.
A circa-1990 sedan was on the lift, its undercarriage exposed. I moved the flashlight’s beam over the underside of the car. No duct tape anywhere. Apparently Billy only used the stuff for cosmetic fixes. Good to know. I didn’t know much about cars, but something told me duct tape on a car engine was not a good idea.
Timothy banged on the front door.
“Coming!”
His knock sounded distant and I doubted he could hear me. He was outside, in front of the living quarters, which was
an aluminum-sided mobile home that Billy had welded to the garage itself.
I wove through the crowded shop and knocked over a coffee can of bolts sitting on a stool. Not surprisingly, Billy was not the most organized shop owner in the world. I found the wooden door that led into the mobile home and switched on the main light switch, bathing the shop in garish yellow light. The door leading into the home was unlocked and it opened into the kitchen.
Billy kept his home as neat as his shop. The sink was full of dirty dishes with unidentifiable remnants of food clinging to them, and as I stepped on the floor, my boots stuck to something. A small, two-person Formica table was tucked into the corner of the room with a couple of folding chairs sitting on either side of it and a bowl of decaying cereal on top of it. A mug of coffee dregs sat next to the dried-out cereal bowl. My shoulders drooped. Is this how Timothy’s friend lived?
Timothy banged on the front door again and called my name.
“I’m coming. Hold your horses,” I added under my breath.
I picked my way through the living room, an unmade sleeper sofa. It sagged close to the floor. To my surprise the front door had not one, but three dead bolts. I unlocked each one and threw open the door.
Timothy scowled at me. “What took so long?”
“I had a little trouble reaching you. This place is an obstacle course. Do you think it looked this bad when the police were here?”
“I’m sure it did. I’ve been in here a few times to talk to Billy about cars. He’s not a neatnick. That’s for sure.”
“Timothy, Billy’s not here.” I knew that to be true the moment I stepped into the trailer. The mobile home was tiny and had only three rooms: the eat-in kitchen, living/bedroom, and a tiny bathroom. I hadn’t checked the bathroom closely, but the door stood open. Considering, Billy’s mammoth size, had he been in there, I would have seen him.
Timothy wasn’t convinced. “Stay here. Let me take a look around.”
The serious expression on his face alarmed me. “Why should I stay here? I’ve already seen most of the place on my way to the front door.” I swallowed. “You don’t think you will find something back here, do you?”
Timothy squeezed my shoulder. “Greta probably would have already found it.”
“Then what could we find that she missed?”
He shrugged and moved toward the kitchen, picking up the spoon that stuck out of the murky cereal. “I don’t think Billy has been here for a while. I would even say a couple of days.”
I glanced around. “I wish I could ask Chief Rose what she found here.”
“Oh, I suspect that she will talk to you about it. You know she thinks of you as the Amish whisperer.” His voice teased.
I rolled my eyes and scanned the room for anything that could give me a clue to where the car repairman may have gone. I stepped over a brake pedal lying in the middle of the kitchen floor. “It’s like he left in a hurry.”
“That’s what I think too. The question remains, why did he leave?”
“Because of Katie Lambright?”
“That’s what Greta will think.” Timothy set the plate of half-eaten food back on the table. “Where did he go?”
I lifted my boot from the linoleum floor and it made that disgusting sticking sound again. “Maybe Billy being gone is unrelated to the Gundy barn and Katie. Maybe he’s visiting family for Christmas?”
“Billy doesn’t have any family.”
“How do you know that?”
“He told me once. His parents are dead, and he’s divorced.”
I blinked. “Billy had been married?”
“That’s what he said. I never asked him much about it and he never offered.” His tone was regretful, as if he wished he had asked. I certainly wished that he had.
“Do you think Billy is involved with what happened to Katie? What’s your gut feeling?”
“My gut tells me no. I can’t even guess why he would have a reason to hurt Katie Lambright. I doubt the two ever met. They had nothing in common and no reason to cross each other’s path.”
“But Appleseed Creek is so small. They must know each other.”
He shook his head. “Amish girls like Katie wouldn’t have any interaction with Englisch men like Billy. Had her family owned a business in town, it may have been possible, but the Lambrights only have the farm.”
It was hard for me to believe that in a place as tiny as Appleseed Creek Katie and Billy hadn’t laid eyes on each other. “Didn’t you say a lot of young Amish men come and see Billy during rumspringa about a car? Maybe Katie met him that way through a male friend.”
“You’re reaching.”
I bit my lip. Of course, I was reaching. None of this made sense. What could the pretty Amish girl and the eccentric car repairman have in common?
“That’s what I did, and I know others who did as well, but if you are implying that Katie Lambright was talking to Billy about a car, I highly doubt that happened. I’ve never heard about an Amish girl coming and talking to him.”
I didn’t know much about the Lambrights. Ruth’s friend, Anna, was the only one of the clan I had met before. She was a soft-spoken, sweet girl with big brown eyes. “How well do you know the Lambright family?”
Timothy thought for a moment. “As well as any of our neighbors, I suppose. Jeb only married his second wife a few years back after I had already left the Amish church, so even though her sons were closer to my age than Jeb’s two daughters, I hardly know them. Come to think of it, I don’t think they ever lived on the Lambright farm. They were already married themselves.”
“What’s the father like?”
“Jeb was always very strict with the girls.” He grimaced. “He’s also a strong supporter of Deacon Sutter. If he had his way, the Amish district would have no interaction with the Englisch community in Appleseed Creek. Daed said Jeb was vocal with his hope that Deacon Sutter would be chosen as bishop after Bishop Glick died. He wasn’t happy when Bishop Hooley took his place, although he would never question who the Lord chose.”
“If he’s so strict, I’m surprised he let Anna see Ruth at all, considering . . .”
Timothy gave me a half-smile. “Considering Becky, you, and I visit my parents so often.” He exhaled, glancing around the tight quarters. “I think the only reason that he does is because he and Daed are old friends. They were in school together and are close—at least they were until Grossdaddi moved here. Jeb didn’t approve of Grossdaddi’s Lancaster influence on our family. I’m sure he looks to that for the reason that Becky and I both left the Amish way.”
“Does Grandfather Zook know this?”
“If I know, I’m sure he does.” He grinned. “But I imagine that he doesn’t much care what Jeb Lambright thinks.”
Grandfather Zook moved to Appleseed Creek from Lancaster, Pennsylvania, four years ago when Mrs. Troyer was pregnant with Naomi. His daughter had a string of miscarriages and he wanted to be here to support her in case the baby was lost again. After Naomi was born healthy and happy, he never went back to Lancaster. Instead, he found that the quiet pace of Knox County suited him.
Timothy sighed. “With that said, this will be the last straw. I would be surprised if Anna says three words to Ruth the next time she sees my sister.”
“If her father’s not around, why wouldn’t she speak to Ruth?”
“She’d be too afraid to because he would be so angry with her.”
I mulled this over. “Are you saying Jeb Lambright would hurt his girls?”
“No, no, I didn’t mean that. He has a temper. That’s all. After visiting the farm earlier today, I know his wife does too.” Timothy moved back through the living/bedroom, then he checked the bathroom. I let him do that on his own. If the living room and kitchen were this bad, I shivered to think what the bathroom was like. Timothy’s face was grim when he stepped out. “Hi
s toothbrush is gone. He left in a hurry, but he took the essentials.”
“You assume he brushes his teeth.” I waved my arms around the room. “Look at this place.”
Timothy gave a half-hearted smile at my joke.
I folded my arms over my filthy coat. I couldn’t wait to go home and take a shower. “How are we going to find him?”
Timothy’s brow shot up. “Find him?”
I gave him a look.
He sighed. “I guess we can start by talking to Greta.”
I smiled.
Timothy buttoned his wool coat. “I figured you would try to find him—whether or not I helped.”
My smile turned into a grin. “Like you said, Mr. Troyer, you know me well.”
Chapter Seven
I called the Appleseed Creek police chief from the cab of Timothy’s truck. The snow glowed with the pink and orange colors from the setting sun, and the icicles hanging from Billy’s shop glittered. I shuddered. They were much smaller, but they reminded me of the icicles hanging from the Gundy barn—and of the one that may have killed Katie.
“Humphrey, I’ve been expecting your call.” Chief Rose’s sharp voice rang in my ear.
“You have?”
“Well, sure. Officer Nottingham saw you and Troyer snooping around Uncle Billy’s place well over an hour ago. How’d you finally get inside?”
Heat rushed to my face. Timothy’s brow furrowed as he watched my reaction. “She knows we were inside of Billy’s place,” I mouthed.
Timothy ran a finger across his throat as if Chief Rose was going to cut off our heads.
I rolled my eyes. “Under the broken garage door,” I said into the phone.
“A tried and true method. Find anything interesting?”
“Since you were already there, I should be really asking you that.”
“More than I bargained for,” she muttered.
I wanted to ask her what she meant by that, but she went on. “We need to talk face-to-face.”
Appleseed Creek Trilogy, Books 1-3 Page 61