“Joseph Walker didn’t feel that way.”
“No, he didn’t. Joseph wanted life to go back fifty years to when only a few Englischers knew about Rolling Brook. He would have been happy if every bus passed our little town by.”
The sun felt hot on the top of my head, so I stepped into the shade. “If that were the case, it would destroy his business. Weren’t most of his customers English?”
He shoved the bandanna into his back pocket. “Ya, they were, but I don’t think Joseph would have minded the loss of business if there were fewer Englischers around.” He laughed at my confused expression. “I know it’s hard for you or a non-Amish person to understand, but it is how he felt.”
“Did you know Joseph well?”
“Well enough. I certainly heard him speak about how he thought life in Rolling Brook should be. Joseph wasn’t the only one who felt that way, but he was the most vocal about it.” He leaned against the barn. “Some Amish are worried about the Watermelon Fest. They worry Rolling Brook will become like parts of Lancaster and lose its Amish authenticity.”
“Amish authenticity? What’s that?”
He laughed. “In other Amish towns it can be about appearing Amish for the Englischers and not being Amish like we are. The fear we can lose sight of the way we choose to live when we recognize that our lives can turn us a profit as business folk.”
I smiled. “You don’t want to become Amish Disney World. I got it.”
He barked a laugh. “That’s about right.”
“When Anna brought me to your farm on Saturday, you said that you saw Elijah Knepp at the Walker farm.”
Jonah’s jovial expression faded.
“Is he there now?”
“I believe so.”
“Where is the Walker farm?”
“Why?” He folded his arms.
“I would like to talk to him about Joseph.”
“Why?”
I sighed. “He may know something about Joseph’s death.”
“Elijah Knepp is not someone that you should be talking to.”
It was my turn to ask the questions. “Why not?”
“Elijah Knepp is my friend, but he has made some bad choices in his life. Now he is a confused and angry man. He’s just been released from prison, and I told him he must look for Gotte’s will in his life.” He cleared his throat. “But you should not speak to him. He has not found his way yet.”
“He’s the most likely person to have killed Joseph.”
“That is true,” Jonah said in his usual Amish candor. “Which is more reason you should stay away from him.”
I couldn’t promise Jonah that I could or would do that.
“I know you are afraid the police will blame you for Joseph’s death.”
“How do you know that?”
“Is it not true?”
“It’s true.” I sighed.
“Although twenty years have passed, I can still read your face.”
I rolled my eyes. “What am I thinking now?”
He grinned. “How annoying I am.”
“That’s true too.”
He laughed. “Sheriff Mitchell is a gut man. He knows how the Amish way works and doesn’t try to change us. We are happy to have him in the county.” Jonah frowned. “The sheriff before wasn’t nearly as understanding. He will know you’re innocent. He will find who did this.”
I wished I had Jonah’s faith and confidence.
“You have not changed, Angela Braddock. You worried far too much as a child, and you worry now. You fretted for days over moving to Texas when we were kids instead of enjoying your last few weeks here. Gott will settle the loss of Joseph’s life. Leave that to him.”
That was easy for Jonah to say. He wasn’t the one who might be measured for an orange jumpsuit.
“I see you don’t believe me.” He smiled. “I’m glad you’ve come back. Texas was never right for you. Holmes County is your home.”
Before Joseph’s murder, I would have agreed with him.
Chapter Twenty-four
I paced the backyard of Running Stitch. I already had been there twenty minutes, and Danny was nowhere in sight. Where was he? What was taking him so long? What was the stop he had to make before meeting me?
Footsteps came down the alleyway. I leaned over the fence, expecting to see Danny. Instead I found Sheriff Mitchell. There was no time to run away and hide in one of the bushes like Oliver.
“Angie,” the sheriff said. “I didn’t expect to find you back here.” He was back in his uniform and looking fine.
“I’m gardening. There’s not much else I can do today since I can’t get into my shop.” I gave him a pointed look.
A small smile played on the sheriff’s face. “What are you planting?”
“Umm . . .”
“Where are your garden tools?”
“Well, right now, I’m taking a survey. You know, to see what needs to be done and what I should plant.”
He removed sunglasses from his pocket and placed them over his eyes. “You’re making a list.”
“Yep,” I said, relieved.
“Where’s your pen and paper?”
I tapped the side of my head with my index finger. “It’s all up here. I have an excellent memory.”
“Good to know,” Mitchell said.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, happy for a chance to put him on the defensive.
“I thought I would stop by and have another go at the scene. See if we missed anything.”
“Like what?” I asked.
He eyed me with suspicion. “I will know it when I see it.”
I jerked a thumb in the direction of Running Stitch’s back door. “Are you planning to go in there?”
“I was, but maybe I will come back later.”
Because I was there. He didn’t say it because he didn’t have to.
“Can you do something about the crime-scene tape out in front? Tourists are taking pictures of themselves outside of the shop because it’s a place where someone got killed. I don’t want that to be the reason why someone visits my store.”
His expression softened. “I will see about removing the tape, or at least making it a little less obvious. Deputy Anderson may have gotten carried away with it.”
“You think?” I asked sarcastically.
Behind the sheriff, Danny stepped around the other side of the woodworker’s shop. His eyes widened when he saw the sheriff, and he darted back behind the other building. Mitchell brushed imaginary dirt from his pant leg. “I’ll return later to walk the scene. I trust you won’t be here all day gardening, then.”
“No, I’m almost done.”
“Good.” He walked through the gate and down the alleyway.
I waited a full thirty seconds before I hissed at Danny. “Danny, come out already. The sheriff’s gone.”
Danny’s head peeked around the woodworker’s property. “Doesn’t look good for you, Braddock. The sheriff’s going to send you upriver.”
I rolled my eyes even though a large part of me thought Danny might be right. “Why did you hide from him?”
“Mitchell and I don’t see eye to eye about the freedom of the press.”
“That doesn’t surprise me in the least. Since your idea of freedom of the press is taking photos of a dead man.”
Danny unlatched the gate and walked inside. “Why did you tell the sheriff that you were gardening?”
“I don’t know. It was the first thing that came to mind. Would you rather I had said I was waiting for you?”
He smiled. “Aw, see, Braddock, you and I aren’t as different from each other as you think.”
I grimaced. “What took so long?”
He shrugged. “The Walker murder isn’t the only story I’m covering right n
ow, you know?”
“What? You had a pie tasting to document?”
He scolded, “I came here to help you, and you’re giving me attitude.”
I folded my arms. “How exactly are you going to help me out? You’d better talk fast. I have things to do.”
He snorted and leaned against the fence. “I know where Elijah Knepp is.”
“So do I. He’s on the Walker farm.”
“Ahh, look out, Miss Super Sleuth. You’ve been doing your homework.” He crossed his arms. “So you’re going to drive to the Walker farm and talk to him?”
“No.” I frowned. “Number one, I doubt he will talk to me. Number two, his sister and her daughters are there and are grieving, and number three, he’s not someone I want to meet by myself.”
“Bright girl. Knepp is one angry Amish man. I think all that time in the Big House with hardened English criminals only made him worse.”
“Have you spoken to him?”
“No,” he admitted. “But I’ve seen him many times while on the story.”
“Where? How?”
“At the Walker farm.”
“You just sauntered up to the Walker farmhouse and asked to speak to Elijah?”
“He’s not in the farmhouse. He’s hiding in the outbuildings. He knows the sheriff’s deputies are watching the place for any signs of him.”
I tapped the large hollyhock blossom next to me and watched it bob back and forth on its long giraffelike stem. “How do you know that?”
“I saw him on surveillance.”
“You spied on the family?”
“You call it spying. I call it working a story.”
It wasn’t worth arguing with him over that point. “You saw him, but Mitchell’s deputies didn’t.”
“Trust me, Knepp could walk by Barney Fife Anderson with Walker’s blood on his hands and that guy would never notice.”
I had to agree with him, as Anderson left me unattended in the quilt shop yesterday and bought my “I was in the bathroom” story.
“You need to come with me.” He pushed off the fence.
I took a step back. “Where?”
“To the Walker farm, so you can see Knepp for yourself.”
“You want me to spy on Abigail and her girls?”
“Do you want to find the killer, or would you rather go to prison?”
That sobered me. “The family must not think he’s the killer if he’s living on the property.”
“Just because the family thinks that doesn’t make it true. Knepp still has the best motive.” He swallowed. “He hasn’t lost his interest in fire either.”
“I know about the barn fire, but not the details. He used kerosene. Whose barn was it?”
He cocked his head. “I’m surprised you don’t know.”
“Why’s that?”
“I thought you were close to the Grabers.”
My stomach dropped. “He burned down the Grabers’ barn?”
Danny nodded as if he relished being the bearer of this news.
“But why? Jonah said they were friends.”
He shrugged. “I guess Jonah Graber is the forgive-and-forget type. It would be very Amish of him to react that way.”
Jonah not telling me was one thing, but Anna hadn’t said a word either. Or Rachel, who must know. “Why did he do it?”
“Knepp never answered that question during the trial. The prosecutor asked and he refused to answer. If Elijah’s the killer and I can tie Elijah’s past into this story, it will be golden. The Canton paper is considering running it, but they don’t want anything that is not one hundred percent true. The media is always afraid of getting sued.” He glowered.
“It’s highly unlikely that the Amish will sue you in this case. That’s not their typical reaction.”
“I know that,” he snapped. “But the newspaper won’t budge, so I have to be one hundred percent certain of Elijah’s guilt before I submit my story.”
I gritted my teeth. “I guess I could check the farm out to see where it is. I’m not calling it surveillance—I’m calling it locating.”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night.” He shook his head. “But sorry, no can do.”
“What? You spent the last twenty minutes trying to convince me to go with you to the Walker farm.”
“If I take you, we have to be partners. I tell you everything I know about the case, and you tell me everything you know. That’s the only way I will do it.”
I didn’t like the sound of Danny’s offer, but what choice did I have? “Fine.”
He slapped me on the shoulder. “That’s the spirit. I’ll pick you up in front of the Millersburg courthouse at nine tomorrow morning.”
“Why wait? I thought you were in a rush to get this story.”
He ignored my question. “Remember. Nine sharp in front of the soldier’s statue.” He used his finger to pretend to fire a gun at me.
Why did I have the sneaking suspicion that I felt a lot like Faust must have when he made a deal with the devil?
Chapter Twenty-five
Oliver barked at me as I tied my tennis shoes the next morning.
“Sorry, buddy, but I can’t take you for a walk this morning. I promise we will go for an extra-extra-long one when I get home.”
He flopped onto his dog bed in the middle of the living room and pouted. He was an expert at making me feel guilty.
“I won’t be long.”
He flicked his ears.
Outside the midmorning air was heavy with moisture, and I practically felt my blond curls become larger. I half hoped and half feared that Danny wouldn’t show up. The thought of spying on the grieving Walker family didn’t sit well with me. I shivered to think what Anna and Martha would say if they ever found out. I would make sure they never would.
It was a three-minute walk from my house to the statue in front of the courthouse. In the bright sun I squinted at the perfectly straight soldier on top of the story-high monument.
I checked my cell phone. I was fifteen minutes early. That was fine with me. I wanted to beat Danny there. I didn’t want him jumping out of the bushes in an attempt to scare me. There was a park bench in the shade by a small stand of trees. It was a good place to sit because I could see anyone approaching the statue from either direction.
I heard a dog bark, and then saw Tux, free of his leash, running toward me. He pulled up short, probably on the lookout for Oliver.
“Funny seeing you here again,” Sheriff Mitchell said as he strode toward us. Tux ran back to his master and whined softly. “He’s disappointed Oliver is not here. Where is he?”
“He’s at home. I promised him a big walk later.” I sat on my hands.
“What are you doing out here?”
“Just enjoying the day. I might as well explore Millersburg if I have all this extra time.” I hoped the sheriff would be gone by the time Danny arrived.
My cell phone rang. I removed it from my shorts pocket and checked the readout. I grimaced and silenced the phone.
“Someone you don’t want to talk to?” He peeked at the screen.
I showed it to him.
“You don’t want to talk to your mother?”
I slipped the phone back into my pocket. “Not right now.”
“Why not?”
His bold question made me laugh, and he smiled. “She wants me to return to Texas.” I left off the part about wanting me to marry Ryan. She might be calling me about my dad’s knee surgery, but I doubted it. I’d spoken with my father the night before and everything had gone well.
“And do you want to?”
“No.”
His eyes fell to my naked left hand. “Does that have something to do with your broken engagement?”
My mouth fell open. “How do you know about t
hat?” Then, I remembered Danny’s warning that the police would do a thorough background check on me. “Never mind. It was part of your investigation, right?”
To my surprise, Mitchell blushed.
Tux rolled on his back in the middle of the green lawn.
“If my store doesn’t open soon, I may not have much choice about moving back to Texas. You don’t know about any jobs for graphic designers who can quilt around here, do you?”
“There’s not much call for that in Holmes County.” A smile crossed his face. “I have good news for you, though. You can reopen Running Stitch tomorrow. We are finished with it.”
I jumped off the bench and threw my arms around the sheriff. “Really?” I dropped my arms. “I’m so sorry.”
He grinned. “It’s okay. I don’t often get to share such good news, so it’s my pleasure.”
“Does this mean I’m not a suspect in Joseph’s murder anymore?” The question popped out of my mouth before I could stop it.
He frowned. “No, it doesn’t.”
I couldn’t help but wonder if Farley came through as promised and talked the sheriff into letting me back into the shop, but I thought better of asking Mitchell. I cleared my throat. “I have a few more people that you could talk to.”
His demeanor changed from curious neighbor to cop in a half second. “Like who?”
“Willow Moon and Farley Jung. They both have an excellent motive.”
“What’s that?”
“The Watermelon Fest. Joseph was trying to raise Amish support against it. Maybe the organizers got mad.”
He unsuccessfully tried to hide a smile. “You think that Joseph was murdered over watermelon?”
I glared at him. “I don’t know why Joseph was murdered. I want you to see there are other options. Other than me.”
More quietly, he said, “I know that, Angie. I have more than enough suspects, but the fact still remains that Joseph was killed in your store. Why was he there? Was it for the deed?”
“I have no idea.”
“You didn’t have plans to meet him?”
“Of course not. Joseph was barely on speaking terms with me.” I watched cars stop at the main intersection in front of the courthouse. It was quickly approaching nine o’clock. Nothing good could come from the sheriff seeing Danny and me together. It would only make him suspicious of me. “Have you spoken to Elijah Knepp?”
Murder, Plain and Simple Page 16