“But I am only sixteen.”
“Friendship is not defined by age, at least not for me, anyway.” She pushed the lunch pail across the top of the counter until it was directly in front of Annie. “As for the other stuff? You’ve been a blessing to me since your first day here. You listened, you learned, and you’ve worked hard. As a result, everything feels far less hectic than it did in the months between Esther’s departure and your arrival.”
Annie’s cheeks flamed red once again, only this time, instead of embarrassment, Claire suspected it was more about pride—an emotion she knew the Amish were not supposed to have. And, sure enough, Annie waved at Claire’s words like she might a bothersome gnat. “I have just done my job.”
“And mine, too, on occasion,” Claire reminded before tapping the side of the lunch pail. “So please, take your lunch outside and enjoy it. It’s a perfect early September day out there and it’s a shame to waste the entire thing inside.”
Annie shifted back the pail’s cloth cover and peered inside. “I am a bit hungry, but I would rather eat here, at the counter, while you do what you need to do in your office. That way I will not feel so bad about leaving early.”
“Are you sure?” Claire asked, gesturing toward the window that overlooked the alleyway between her shop and Shoo Fly Bake Shoppe. “Because we might have rain showers the rest of the week . . .”
“I am sure. I am also sure that the extra piece of chicken I packed is for you.” Annie reached inside the pail, pulled out a leg, and held it out for Claire. “I will know, from your first bite, if I have made Mamm’s recipe as good as Eva does.”
She pressed her hand against the answering grumble of her stomach, but not before it announced its enthusiasm loud enough for Annie to hear. At her employee’s giggle, she shrugged and took a bite. “Ohhh . . . Wow . . . Annie, this is amazing.”
Annie’s head tilted in momentary doubt. “But it is not as good as Eva’s, is it?”
“I-I think it might be even better.” She took a second and third bite and then tossed the bone into the trash. “Wow. I can see why your dat loved your mamm’s chicken so much. It’s incredible. You’ll need to make a piece for my aunt one day so she can try it, too.”
“I would be happy to.” Holding the pail out to Claire, Annie grinned. “You can have mine, if you would like.”
Claire held her hand up in protest and instead motioned toward the back hallway. “Actually, if you’re really okay out here on your own for a little while, I’d like to look up that information for Diane. It shouldn’t take too long.”
“I am sure. Take your time.”
Plucking a pen from the holder and a notebook from the drawer, Claire made her way out from behind the counter, down the hallway, and into the almost closet-sized room that served as her office. A nondescript metal desk and a not-so-comfortable rolling chair all but took up every inch of space save for that which she needed in order to squeeze in and out of the room. Sometimes, if necessary, she could open a folding chair just inside the doorway, but that was the exception, not the rule. For the most part, the room was used simply to make the schedule and to fill the consignment envelopes with money earned. All other bookkeeping related to the shop tended to be done in her room at Sleep Heavenly—after the guests and Diane had retired for the evening.
Today, though, she’d brought her laptop in the hopes of squirreling away a little time to track down any and all information she could on the pendant they’d found the previous night. If all went well, she’d be able to track the item down to a fan page or a particular mail-order site. What she’d do with that information from there, she wasn’t exactly sure, but she’d figure it out when she got there. For now, she just needed some sort of string to follow . . .
Lowering herself onto her desk chair, she flipped open her laptop and powered it on. While she waited, she jotted a few questions down in her notebook:
Fan club president?
Pendant giveaway?
Names?
She stared at the last notation for a moment and then circled it, the probability that someone would give her that information unlikely. Maybe, instead, she could ask the person running the page to post a lost-and-found notice . . .
When the home page was up, she clicked onto the Internet and typed Jane Barrett Fan Club into the search engine. Sure enough, she got a hit. Clicking on the link, she found herself on a page showcasing the cover of each book in the Subject Murders series. Below the covers and centered on the page was a picture of the raven-haired author sitting behind a mahogany desk, fingers poised atop an old-fashioned typewriter. In the background was a bookshelf with college textbooks highlighting some of the subjects that had served as the backdrop for the woman’s popular whodunit-style books.
Intrigued, Claire scrolled down, her eyes landing on a smaller photograph of a different woman—a redhead listed as Fan Club President, Misty Wright—before dropping still further.
Welcome to the fan site for Jane Barrett’s Subject Murders mystery series. If you’re here, it’s probably because you, too, have fallen in love with these books and are yearning for more. That’s why I’ve created this site and included all sorts of fun things with the help of Jane Barrett, herself.
If you click on the Behind the Scenes tab at the top of the page, you’ll find research pictures, past event photos, and even some fun facts that never made it into the final manuscript(s).
The Events tab will keep you informed of where Jane is signing/speaking next, as well as fan gatherings and online book clubs I’ll be running that are centered around each of her books.
The Extras tab is for the occasional giveaway. In the past, we’ve given away signed advanced reader copies, cover flats, and autographed pictures of Jane.
The Store tab is for items themed around the Subject Murders. Ten percent of all net sales will be donated to one of Jane’s favorite charities.
And, last but not least, there is the News tab with the latest information available pertaining to the series and Jane.
So stick around, check things out, and be sure to send in a picture of you reading your favorite Subject Murders book! You can see some of our favorites on the Readers Like You tab.
Before you go, remember this one thing: learning can, in fact, be bad for your health. :)
Your fellow fan,
Misty
Claire moved the cursor back to the top of the page and clicked Extras. A thorough check of the page netted a total of twenty giveaways over the past several years. Ten were for advanced reader copies given away in the weeks leading up to the release of the two most recent books. Four giveaways centered around individual book cover art. One was for a framed collage showcasing all of the books’ covers—signed. Two had been for Skype appearances by Jane Barrett at the winning fans’ book clubs. And two more—the most recent of the giveaways—had been for the entire series on audio.
All twenty opportunities had been mail-order entries, with the final tally of entrants given underneath the various prize photos. Not a single giveaway netted less than ten thousand entries.
“Wow,” Claire said as she took one last look at the page for any indication the pendant they’d found had been a prize. When she saw none, she returned to the tabs at the top of the page and clicked on Store. But, once again, no sign of the pendant with the delicate silver rose against a half moon.
A search of the other tabs turned up nothing, either, except comments from fans demanding to know when the next Subject Murder would be released, and the same “hopefully soon” response Misty gave each and every time.
“Hey there, beautiful, got a minute?”
Startled, Claire looked up, only to feel the tension over her fruitless search dissipating in short order. “For you? Always.”
She pushed back her chair but stopped short of standing as Jakob waved her off. “Don’t get up, I’ll come to you.” Then, squeezing his way into the room, he made his way over to her chair, leaned in for a kiss, and then
pointed her attention back to her computer screen. “You looked pretty engrossed when I walked up just now.”
“That’s because I was.” She stretched her arms above her head and did her best to stifle a yawn. “Unfortunately, we know nothing more now than we did last night.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning Aunt Diane continues to fret.”
His eyes left the screen in favor of hers. “At the risk of sounding dense, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“The necklace you found in the dresser last night,” she replied, pointing at the screen. “I thought maybe I’d find something about it on the author’s fan page site but there’s nothing that looks even remotely like it under any of the tabs. And while there hasn’t been any evidence the author has visited the site recently, the fan club president, Misty, most definitely has. Although I think she might even be starting to get frustrated with the lull in books based on the fact that she’s moved from ‘hopefully soon’ to ‘your guess is as good as mine’ in her last few responses to curious fans.”
“Okay, so maybe the pendant isn’t connected to the series at all,” Jakob mused.
She took one last look at the site and then rolled her chair around to face the detective. “It has to. You saw the logo on the back of that book . . . It’s an exact duplicate. Right down to the same missing petal on the left side of the rose.”
“Okay, then go there”—he pointed her back to the screen once again and the Contact Us tab on the far right—“and ask this Mitsy person about it.”
“It’s Misty, actually, and yeah, I guess I could do that. But maybe I should take a picture of the pendant this evening and include it in my email. That way maybe we can minimize any needless back-and-forth.”
Jakob turned and perched on the edge of the desk closest to her chair. “So besides taking the picture and sending an email, do you have any big plans for the evening?”
She felt her answering grin before it even reached her lips. “You mean besides helping Diane with dinner at the inn? No.”
“Could I pick you up at seven thirty and ban you from asking any exploratory questions between now and then?”
“Exploratory questions?” she echoed, laughing. “So, does that mean I can’t ask if you’d like to sit outside on the back stoop for a little while before I head back in to help Annie? Or that I can’t ask you if you’d like a kiss before you head back to the station?”
“Ha, ha, very funny. I just mean that I don’t want you asking about my plans for us this evening. I want you to just go with it, that’s all.”
The chair creaked as she stood. “Ahhh . . . I see now. Sure, I can refrain from asking questions about your plans. Under one condition, of course.”
His left eyebrow rose in amusement. “And that is?”
“You at least tell me how I should dress.”
“Jeans. Sneakers. Easy stuff.”
• • •
She was sitting on the porch step when he pulled into the parking area beside the inn. Grabbing the bag of cookies Diane insisted on packing for Jakob, she fast-stepped her way over to the familiar black sedan and the handsome driver beaming at her from behind the steering wheel. “You’re right on time.”
“That’s because I’ve been eyeing the clock since about six.” He waved her around the car to the passenger side and, when she slid into her seat, leaned across the center console and greeted her with a lingering kiss she felt clear down to her toes. “And sitting in the car, ready to head over, since about seven twenty.”
“But it only takes three minutes from your place to the inn,” she protested.
“I know.”
Resting her left cheek against the headrest, she took in her handsome boyfriend and gave into the sigh that always accompanied the disbelief over her good fortune. “I’m not sure how I got so lucky,” she whispered.
“Hey . . . Is that for me?” he asked, his voice husky.
She looked down at the bag in her hand and nodded. “Diane made a fresh batch of your favorite this evening. In fact, she had yours bagged and ready to go before she put the rest on the plate for the guests.”
“Thank her for me, will you?”
“Of course.” Reaching over her right shoulder, she pulled the seat belt around her body and clicked it into place as Jakob headed back down the driveway. “So I took a picture of the pendant and sent it to that fan club woman a little while ago.”
“And?”
“Nothing yet. But soon, I hope.”
“Okay, good.” At the end of the driveway, he turned left onto Lighted Way and headed toward town. Soon, the smooth pavement that denoted the English side of town gave way to Heavenly’s cobblestoned shopping district. Here, during the daylight hours, English mixed with Amish as shopkeepers and, at times, as customers too. In the evening, as it was at that moment, buggy sightings were rare as most Amish were either sitting down to dinner with their families or taking advantage of the last of the day’s rays to check off a few more items on their daily lists of tasks.
Halfway down the road, he pointed to a familiar buggy parked in front of Heavenly Brews. “Looks like Esther is craving another of those white hot chocolates you turned her on to.”
“Poor Eli, he probably wishes he could brain me right about now.”
“Nah, Eli adores you. So, too, does Esther. Besides, I’ve been in Brews a few times when he’s come in to get her one, and he always gets himself something, too.” Jakob slowed to a near crawl as they passed, his eyes leaving the road just long enough to travel up the trio of steps to the coffee shop’s door. When it didn’t open and deposit Eli onto the top step, he continued on, the cobblestones eventually bowing to the fine gravel roadway that denoted the Amish side of town. “So is everything set for Saturday?”
“It is. Ruth is bringing pie to go with the cake I’m making. Annie will come over just as soon as she closes the shop. Martha is making the main dish. Hannah is bringing some of her homemade candy—”
“Not root beer–flavored, I hope,” Jakob teased.
“If she brings some root beer–flavored ones, that’s fine. I just won’t be eating any of those . . .” She looked out her window at the passing farms, her mind ticking off the handful of women she invited to the surprise luncheon for Esther. Most of the women she knew either personally or by name. The ones she didn’t had been added to the list by Esther’s mother, Martha. “Valerie Palermo is coming, too.”
Jakob’s head nodded in her peripheral vision, but she continued gawking—at the cows and horses they passed, at the feeling of utter peace that surrounded them as they drove, and at the way any tension she’d been feeling about the mystery pendant seemed to vanish from her neck, shoulders, and voice.
“I thought asking her would be a long shot, but the second she heard it was for Esther, she told me she was clearing her schedule and making a reservation at the inn.”
“And did she?” he asked, swinging his attention onto Claire.
“She’ll be in the room right next to Diane. Though I suspect they’ll be in the parlor most of the night talking about horses, knowing those two.”
Just beyond the Millers’ farm, Jakob turned left, the crunch of the gravel beneath the tires no match for the gasp that escaped her lips. “Where are we going?” she asked.
“That sounds like a question to me.”
Before she could respond, a ding from the vicinity of her purse had her reaching inside and removing her phone. A quick swipe to the right brought her to her email in-box and the lone new email. “Looks like she answered,” Claire murmured.
“Who?”
“Misty—the president of the Jane Barrett Fan Club.” Tapping the subject line, Claire waited for the email to open. When it did, she began to read aloud. “Hi, Claire. First and foremost, I’d like to thank you for coming to our fan club site. We’re happy to have you here. As for the picture of the pendant you sent, no, we haven’t given one of those away, nor do we sell them in our on
line shop. Jane is a very private person and we try to honor that here on her fan site by making sure the items we sell are about the Subject Murders series, rather than Jane herself. I’m disappointed for her that a symbol that means so much to her has drawn the attention and efforts of other jewelers. As to who else might have chosen to have this symbol made into a pendant, I’m afraid I can’t even begin to guess. Jane has many, many fans across the globe. Thank you for reaching out. Best wishes, Misty.”
Scrolling back up to the top of the message, she silently read it a second time while Jakob navigated the dirt road. When she reached the end, she looked over at him, his attention shifting between the road and the land around them. “I was really hoping she’d be able to point me toward the owner,” she murmured.
“Maybe Yoder will have some information on the previous owner that’ll prove helpful.” At the top of the hill, he pulled to the right and parked, sweeping his hand and her attention toward an all-too-familiar landscape as he did. “Well, we’re here.”
Her eyes immediately found the rock on which she and Eli’s brother, Benjamin, had stargazed from the previous summer and swallowed. “Here?” she echoed. “But why . . .”
The rest of her sentence fell away as the faintest clip clop of an approaching horse mingled with the sound of Jakob’s door opening. “Leave it to Ben to be right on time.”
“Ben?”
But it was too late. Jakob was already out of the car and waving to the hatted man who’d once been his closest childhood friend. Too stunned to move, Claire watched as Ben gave a single nod of his head and then brought the horse-drawn buggy to a stop not far from where she sat.
“Hey, Ben. It’s good to see you.”
She held her breath as she waited to see if the Amish man would greet his banned friend with words, another nod, or neither, but true to the man she knew him to be, Benjamin Miller jumped down off the bench seat and met Jakob’s outstretched hand with a quick shake. “Jakob.” Then, turning toward the car, he met her eyes through the passenger-side window and nodded again.
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