Murder, Plain and Simple

by Isabella Alan

  First Elijah, now Ben. How many Amish in Rolling Brook wanted to take out the austere woodworker? It was looking better and better for me. I needed to convince the sheriff that these other men were better suspects than I was. Probably not the nicest thought I ever had, but I kept picturing a six-by-six cement room and bad prison food. Plus, there was Oliver to think about. Who would care for my Frenchie if I got hauled off to the Big House?

  “Did the sheriff say who he thought did it?” Martha asked. Her voice was calm and she seemed to be in control of the churlish mood that hit when she first arrived. If my wild curls were an indication, it was muggy outside. Maybe Martha’s temper could be attributed to the heat. Or perhaps I was giving her too much credit.

  “He did.”

  Sarah’s eyes gleamed behind her glasses. This must be better than Christmas morning for her. “Who?”

  “Me,” I said simply.

  The women gasped. Startled, Oliver darted around the room on the lookout for a rogue pigeon.

  “There aren’t any birds in here, Ollie,” I said soothingly.

  Sarah’s forehead creased. “What does that mean?”

  I just shook my head.

  Tears threatened to fall from Rachel’s eyes. “The sheriff can’t think it was you. You didn’t even know Joseph, not really.”

  Sarah threaded her needle. “We’re here for you, Angie. Tell us how we can help.”

  Irritation flashed across Rachel’s face. “Sarah, you’re looking at Angie as if you were a cat ready to attack a mouse.”

  Sarah leaned back in her paddle-backed chair. “Rachel Miller, you need to mind your own business.”

  Rachel’s face turned deep red. “That’s a strange thing for you to say.”

  Martha folded her hands on her lap. “It’s no surprise the sheriff suspects Angie. It’s because of the missing deed.”

  My stomach tightened into a painful knot, more painful than the stomachache I had after the juice cleanse. Does Mitchell know about the deed yet? He must.

  Anna placed her sewing basket on her lap and began to pack up her kit. “I think that’s enough quilting for the day. Angie must be tired, and I need to take her back home.”

  I couldn’t agree more.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Oliver ran into the house as if he were Quasimodo returning to the safety of Notre-Dame. Our rented house was a bird-free sanctuary of sorts.

  A light blinked on my answering machine. The phone company gave me service just two days ago, and I had yet to give anyone my number, except . . . I knew who it was.

  I pressed the play button. “Miss Braddock. This is Sheriff Mitchell from the Holmes County Sheriff’s Department. Thank you for stopping by the department for fingerprinting and to give your statement. I have a few more questions to ask you about the case.” His voice was stern. “There seems to be some information you neglected to share with me. We can discuss this when I drop by. By the way, you’re not answering your phone, which means either you aren’t home or you are screening your calls. I hope it’s the second one because, remember, I told you not to leave town.”

  I pressed the erase button. Could I be wrong, or was the sheriff teasing me?

  I must have imagined the teasing. Yep, that’s what happened. “I’m cracking up, Ollie. I guess that’s what happens when you find a dead guy.”

  “Woof!”

  I let Oliver outside. He peered left and then right, sniffing the wind for birds. Seeing and smelling none, he ventured out.

  Going over the conversation with the quilting circle in my head, I decided I needed to get a lawyer. Ryan’s handsome face instantly came to mind. He wasn’t a criminal lawyer, but his expertise would certainly be helpful in this situation. I grimaced. However, he was partly responsible, wasn’t he? Had he not dumped me, I would never have moved to Ohio, taken over my aunt’s shop, and met Joseph Walker. It’s funny how I had the ability to pin everything back on Ryan. Surely, it wasn’t fair to him, but it made me feel a touch better about my circumstances.

  I did know one lawyer in Holmes County, and that was better than nothing, and I needed to ask Harvey about the shop key. I opened the back door and called Oliver. He dug in the garden with his rear end sticking high in the air. “Oliver! Come!”

  Nothing.

  “Oliver! Incoming robin!”

  His head popped up. He ran for the door, almost knocking me over in the process. The bird fear came in handy at times.

  • • •

  Harvey Lemontop’s office was in an old house that looked as if it could double as a barn. His wasn’t the only office in the building. A dog groomer also shared the converted home. The groomer was on the first floor, and Harvey was on the second. Since the building seemed pooch-friendly, I decided to bring Oliver inside with me. He wiggled his stubby tail and started toward the sound of the barking emanating from the groomer’s door.

  “Sorry, buddy. Maybe we can come back later to make some friends.” I noted the dirt on his paws from digging in the garden. “You could use a bath too.” Considering my new business was about to go under because the quilt shop was closed, the only bath he would be getting was a hose-down in the backyard.

  My hand trailed along the ornately carved banister as we walked up the rose-patterned carpeted steps. On the second floor, a door flew open and an Amish man rushed through it. He nearly collided with me as he pushed his way down the stairs. Oliver ran down the steps to get out of the way and ducked behind a huge potted plant. The man muttered an apology but didn’t stop to see if he’d knocked me onto my behind.

  The front door slammed closed after him, and the dogs in the groomer’s office began to howl and bark at the commotion. Oliver’s quivering nose appeared around the plant.

  Harvey stepped out of the door holding a black felt hat. “Elijah?” he called, only to find me standing gap-mouthed on the stairs. “Oh.” He pulled up short. “Hello, Angela. Can I help you with something?”

  Elijah?

  I stared as the front door swung open on its hinges and turned back to the lawyer. “Was that Elijah Knepp?”

  The lawyer cleared his throat. “Umm, yes. Do you know Elijah?”

  “No,” I said. Mentally adding that I planned to meet him. He was my best chance of clearing my name. Benjamin Hershberger was a good option too, but Elijah had a record, making him the much more appealing murder suspect. If Aunt Eleanor could hear me now. Contemplating murder suspects, looking to clear my name. I was sure this wasn’t what she expected to happen when she left me the shop.

  “Can I help you with something?” The lawyer didn’t act eager to talk about Elijah, but I wasn’t going to let him off that easy.

  “What was he doing here?” I moved up one step.

  He frowned.

  “Was he here about Joseph’s death?”

  He removed a white handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his brow. “Now, Angela, I’m sure you know, since I’m an attorney-at-law, that I can’t share my conversations with my clients with others.”

  I did know that. Ryan crammed it down my throat when we were together whenever I would ask him about his cases. He never appreciated my curious nature. That should have been another warning sign. It was funny how all the warning signs against him were finally coming to light when he was hundreds of miles away.

  Harvey pointed at Oliver half-hidden behind the potted plant. “Is that your dog?”

  I slapped my thigh. “Oliver, come.”

  The Frenchie wiggled out of his hiding place and looked around. Seeing no Amish men or renegade birds, he galloped up the stairs and sat on the step next to my feet.

  The lawyer pursed his lip. “Animals aren’t supposed to be in the building.”

  I gave him a you’re kidding me, right? look. “You have a groomer in the downstairs office.”

  “I know. That’s w
hy I don’t allow it.”

  Oliver gave the attorney his best poor-me face.

  The lawyer shoved the handkerchief back into the pocket of his polyester pants. “I suppose I can make an exception in Oliver’s case. He seems well behaved, if a little excitable. Are you here to see me?”

  “Yes.” I nodded.

  He rested his hand on his office’s doorknob. “What can I do for you?”

  “I think I need a lawyer.”

  He nodded as if he’d been expecting this. “Step into my office.”

  Oliver and I walked up the final two steps and followed Harvey through a doorway. It opened into an attractive waiting room decorated in what my mother would call Victorian chic. It had been one of her many design phases between ranch elegant and modern country. I couldn’t remember what style my mother was currently showing off in her Dallas home. It may have even changed twice since I moved. It was hard to keep track.

  “My secretary’s not here today. She only works three days a week.” He nodded at the empty receptionist’s desk. He opened the white door behind the receptionist’s desk. It opened into a spacious office, which was also decorated in Victorian style. “Please sit.”

  I perched on the edge of a red velvet chair. If I had such a chair in my house, it would be covered with dog hair in seconds. I could see why Harvey didn’t want any animals in his office.

  Oliver eyed the matching chair eagerly.

  I pointed to the floor. “Oliver, down.”

  He lay down with an annoyed snuffle that said, “You never let me have any fun.”

  “Why do you think you need a lawyer?” Harvey walked around his ornately carved desk.

  “I assume you heard about what happened to Joseph by now.”

  He nodded.

  I shifted in my seat. “That’s why Elijah was here, wasn’t it?”

  He pursed his lip. “Angela, I said I would not answer questions about Mr. Knepp, and I haven’t changed my mind in the last three minutes.”

  It had been worth a shot.

  “I found the body,” I blurted out.

  His eyes widened. “I knew he’d been found in your shop, but I didn’t know you’d made the gruesome discovery. Are you all right?”

  I closed my eyes, trying to put the image of Joseph far back in my mind. Am I all right? Nope. “It was a shock.” I took a breath. “The sheriff didn’t come right out and say it, but he thinks I did it. This is why I need a lawyer. I need help.”

  “Mitchell is a good man. He would never think that of you.”

  What was it with this town and thinking the sheriff was the end-all and be-all? Sure, he seemed nice enough, but if he had a viable suspect, I guessed he would arrest him or her just like any other cop. Then again, he did let me go this morning. That’s probably because he didn’t have all his evidence gathered, I reminded myself. He’d arrest me when everything was in order. I inwardly groaned. What a cheerful thought. “What are my options? I need to know someone will get me out if I’m thrown in the slammer.”

  He wrinkled his button nose at my choice of words. “I don’t think that will happen.” He held up his hand before I could protest. “But if it does, give me a call.”

  Excellent. I have my one phone call from the Big House lined up.

  The velvet chair felt itchy against my bare arms. “Would it be a conflict of interest if you represented me and Elijah?”

  “Why would you say that?” He settled back into his captain’s chair, which was also upholstered with velvet fabric. Apparently, the fabric didn’t bother him in the least.

  “Isn’t he a suspect too? Was that why he was here, because he was scared the police will want to talk to him?”

  Harvey pursed his lips. He was taking this confidentiality thing a little too far in my opinion.

  “If you’re not comfortable with me being your representation, I can recommend the names of other attorneys in Millersburg to you.”

  How would I know another attorney would fight for me? Truthfully, I didn’t even know if Harvey would, but he was my aunt’s lawyer. If Aunt Eleanor, who was an excellent judge of character, trusted him, then he must be a good guy. “No referral necessary.” I bit my lip. “About payment.”

  He waved away the concern before I could fully express it. “Don’t worry about that. Your aunt was a good friend. I’m doing this for her. I know you didn’t kill Joseph Walker.”

  I let out a big sigh of relief. Ryan said it didn’t matter if he believed the clients he represented were guilty or not. He just had to convince the jury to doubt the client’s guilt. However, it meant a lot to me that Harvey believed me. “Thank you,” I murmured. “Sheriff Mitchell said there was no sign of forced entry into the shop. Joseph Walker and his murderer either got in with a credit card or with a key. Do you know of any other copies of the shop key?”

  “No. I gave you the only key I had.”

  That left only Martha and me as key holders, just as I’d suspected, which meant I had to put my employee, and my aunt’s friend, on my list of suspects along with Benjamin and Elijah.

  I leaned forward. “The best way to keep me out of jail is to prove my innocence. Then, we will never have to worry about an arrest or trial.”

  Harvey looked a tad green. “I don’t recommend that, Angela. Mitchell is a good cop. He won’t arrest an innocent woman.”

  Thinking about the message on my answering machine at home, I wasn’t so sure about that.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Back at home, Oliver and I stared at the pile of boxes in the corner of the living room. Was it even worth unpacking them at this rate? If I was sent to prison, I wouldn’t need those things. And if I had to go back to Texas with my tail between my legs after leading the quilt shop into financial ruin, it would be awfully depressing to repack them all. I’d admit that was the better option over a black-and-white striped jumpsuit.

  Oliver barked at me.

  “Okay, maybe, just maybe I’m being a tad overdramatic, but I have good reason to be.”

  He bumped his head against my calf. I took it as a show of support. Before I could come to a conclusion about the boxes, my cell phone rang. The readout display showed my parents’ home number. I showed it to Oliver. “Should I answer it?”

  He barked softly.

  “Yeah, I don’t think so either.” Ignoring my instinct, I said, “Hi, Mom.”

  “Sugar.” My mother’s adopted Texas drawl rang in my ear. “How are you, darlin’? How are things back in little old Millersburg?”

  Peachy, I thought. I found out I may not own Running Stitch, discovered a dead Amish man in Aunt Eleanor’s shop this morning, and may be arrested for the crime. Of course I didn’t say that, but she went on, like I knew she would, before I could come up with a milder response.

  She sighed. “I do miss Millersburg sometimes. It looks like a postcard. You would not believe how many ladies here read those Amish romance novels they sell at Cracker Barrel. They love to hear stories about my Amish sister.”

  I highly doubted my mother missed Millersburg, but I knew she did love sharing stories. In her mind, any time she was the center of attention was a good one. The one and only time Mom had come back to Millersburg since we moved to Texas over twenty years ago was to attend her sister’s funeral a few weeks ago. I doubt she would ever return to the county again.

  “How’s the shop?” she asked. “I’m sure Eleanor left everything in order. She was always so neat.”

  Except for the missing deed . . .

  “It’s coming along.” I learned long ago, it was easier for everyone if I was vague with my mother. It’s what she wanted. It was what I wanted too.

  “Have you found a Realtor yet? I’ve been searching online for recommendations in Holmes County.”

  “A Realtor? Why would I need one of those?” I sat on the kitchen stool
and looked out the window into the backyard. A cardinal hopped along the white picket fence. I’d wait until he left before letting Oliver outside.

  She sniffed. “To sell the shop. That’s what you went there to do, wasn’t it?”

  I ground my teeth. “I’m not selling the shop.”

  She gasped. “Don’t tell me you plan to stay in Ohio for good.”

  “I told you that was my plan when I left.”

  She chuckled. “You tease your mother. Both you and your father love to do that.”

  My jaw started to ache from clenching it too tightly. “I’m not teasing. Why would I go back to Texas?”

  “For the wedding, of course.” All the mirth left her voice.

  I felt a migraine beginning to tickle at the base of my skull. “There is no wedding.”

  “No wedding?” She gave a sharp intake of breath. “You only need a break after your little spat with Ryan.”

  “Mom, it wasn’t a little spat. The wedding is off. The engagement is over.”

  “Sweetie, it can’t be. The wedding is three months away. Surely, you two can patch things up by then. I took the liberty of mailing your wedding invitations.”

  “You did what?” I grabbed the side of my head just in case it started to spin in place.

  “Don’t take that tone with me.” Her flat Midwestern accent came out when she was upset.

  I closed my eyes and counted to eight in Spanish. Slowly, I opened my eyes. “Mother, why would you do that?”

  She sniffed. “I was only trying to help. People have to make plans to come, book hotels and flights. Things like that. I wouldn’t have to go to such extreme measures if you had sent Save the Date cards months ago like I asked you to.”

  I winced because I knew that she really thought she was helping. “Everything’s been canceled.”

  She gasped. “No, it hasn’t.”

  “Yes, it has. The caterer, the reception hall, the music, everything. Not to mention, the groom has no intention of showing up.” I put a hand to my left eye. It would start twitching any second now. I could feel the beginnings of the twitch deep inside my cornea. “What am I going to do about the invitations? We have to tell the guests the wedding is off.” This was the exact situation I wanted to avoid. The one mercy Ryan gave me during our breakup was he dumped me before I took the invitations to the post office. Now I didn’t even have that.