Murder, Plain and Simple

by Isabella Alan

  He grimaced. “Not yet.”

  “He has to be a main suspect, doesn’t he?”

  “He’s a person of interest. I would be more inclined to believe he was involved if there had been a fire.”

  “He burned down the Graber barn.”

  Mitchell sighed. “Anna Graber told you that.”

  I didn’t correct him. Behind the sheriff, a ten-year-old silver coupe pulled up to the curb in front of the soldier’s statue.

  “Have you spoken to the Grabers?”

  “No,” was his short answer. “I have investigated a major crime like this before. I know what I’m doing.” He took a step closer to me. “You need to stop talking about Elijah Knepp to people. If it had been up to me, he would still be in prison.” He paused. “And he might not be the only one that you need to worry about. Do I need to remind you there is a killer loose in Holmes County?”

  “You don’t need to remind me of that,” I said softly.

  “Good.” He whistled. The piercing sound broke through the rumble of traffic. “Let’s go, Tux.”

  Thankfully, the sheriff and Tux walked off in the opposite direction of the silver coupe. I waited until the pair was out of sight before walking over to Danny’s car. I reached for the door handle and peered into the car. It was a mess. The backseat was piled high with files and fast-food wrappers. There was a mark on the fabric ceiling. I told myself that it had to be ketchup. I sighed, slipped into the passenger seat, and buckled up.

  He laughed. “Seems like every time I see you, you’re in the middle of a tête-à-tête with the sheriff.”

  “If you would show up on time, you wouldn’t have the problem.”

  He grinned. “After this murder gig is on the books, the Holmes County sheriff’s budding romance might be my next story. I prefer to write more hard-hitting stories, but whatever pays the rent, you know.”

  I gritted my teeth. “Is the Walker farm very far?”

  “No, it will take about ten more minutes to get there.”

  “Remember, I just want to see where it is. No spying.”

  He laughed. “Right. No spying.”

  Danny’s laughter was beginning to grate on my nerves.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  The silver coupe rocked onto a loose gravel road. I held on to my seat. “I don’t think this car was meant for country driving.”

  “It’s only a few yards on this road.” He pointed at the homestead that came into view. “That’s the Walker place.”

  The house was a two-story gray and white farmhouse with a large white barn behind it. Three outbuildings sat around the property. Twenty or so brown chickens pecked at the ground in the fenced-in yard around a chicken coop. Good thing Oliver wasn’t along. The amount of bird encounters in Holmes County was startling.

  Four horses, each with its own buggy, waited in the grass in front of the house. I guessed they belonged to family and neighbors visiting the grieving widow. Sadness washed over me. I couldn’t imagine how much pain Abigail and her children were in at that moment. I remembered how upset Jessica was over Joseph’s death. Their pain must be a hundred times that.

  To the right of the farmhouse was a small apple orchard. Danny drove past the house and turned into a dirt road on the other side of the orchard. He shifted his coupe into park and removed the keys from the ignition.

  “What are you doing? I see where the house is. I saw it. Let’s head back to Millersburg.”

  “No way. I told you this was a surveillance mission.” He pocketed the keys and got out of the car.

  I had two choices. I could sit in the car until he got back—who knew when that would be?—or I could follow him.

  I climbed out of the car. “Danny?” I hissed. He had disappeared into the orchard.

  Bees buzzed around my ears, and I shivered. I hated bees, wasps, and anything with a stinger. If I got stung, Danny was going to hear about it.

  “Danny?”

  He popped out from behind a tree. “Be quiet.”

  I placed a hand to my chest. “Cripes! Don’t scare someone like that.”

  “Come on, Texas girl. Follow me.” He disappeared back behind the tree, and I crept after him.

  Down one of the orchard rows, I saw Danny crouched behind some overgrown bushes. He waved me over. I glanced at the bits of the Walker property I could see from the orchard. If anyone inside the Walker house looked closely at the apple trees, he or she would see me standing there. I ran over to Danny. “This is a bad idea.”

  “Stop complaining. We won’t stay long. We came all the way here. We might as well see if we can catch a glimpse of Elijah.”

  “What are the odds he will be on the side of the house?”

  He put a finger to his lips. “Just be quiet.”

  Another bee buzzed by me. I crouched down next to Danny and tried to remain as still as possible. We were at the back of the house, closest to a small outbuilding, perhaps a storage shed or a workshop. The side door to the structure stood open, but we couldn’t see inside from our angle.

  The back door to the farmhouse swung against the house. A plainly dressed girl stepped outside. “I’ll only be a moment,” she called over her shoulder to whoever was inside.

  Danny straightened to get a better look.

  “Get down,” I hissed, yanking him back down by the arm.

  The girl’s eyes glanced in our direction and just as quickly looked away. When she faced us, I saw it was Mattie Miller.

  “I think I’ve seen her in Rolling Brook,” Danny whispered. “I can’t place her.”

  I kept my mouth shut.

  Mattie glanced back at the farmhouse one more time before she ran over to the shed with the open door. She said something in Pennsylvania Dutch in a hoarse whisper.

  Like Lazarus coming from his tomb, a form appeared. Elijah Knepp. Mattie threw herself into the Amish man’s arms and began to cry. He patted her head and shushed her.

  “Holy crap,” Danny said. “This is like As the Amish World Turns. What a soap opera.”

  “Shh!” I shoved him back into the bushes.

  Through a break in the limbs, I watched Elijah place a hand on Mattie’s cheek and wipe away her tears with his thumb. The two spoke to each other in their language, and I didn’t understand a word.

  “What are they saying? Do you know any of the words?” I hissed as I pulled down a branch blocking my view.

  “No.” Danny poked the camera into my side. “I can’t get a clear shot of the girl. Move over.”

  “Shh!”

  He dug the edge of the camera deeper into my side. “At least take a picture of him. We need it.”

  I took the camera from him on the pretense of taking a photo, but I wasn’t going to take any pictures as long as Mattie was in the shot. Rachel had been too good a friend to me since I showed up in Rolling Brook. If Danny submitted the photo to the Canton paper, it would hurt the Miller family.

  Elijah spoke again, and even though the words were foreign, his tone had finality to it. He touched her cheek one last time and strode away in the direction of the orchard.

  Next to me, Danny forced his way into the middle of the bushes. “Get in here!”

  “In the bush?”

  “Yes. Hurry.”

  I crawled under the bush and ignored the sound of buzzing all around. The sharp spiny limbs cut into my exposed skin, but finally, I was concealed. Just in time, because I could hear and feel the vibrations of Elijah’s approaching footsteps.

  “Angie,” Danny hissed.

  “Don’t breathe a word,” I whispered. “He’s here.”

  “Angie, there’s a . . .”

  “Shh!”

  “Something is really wrong.” He began to move toward me.

  “Don’t move,” I breathed.

  Elijah paused
by our bush, staring back at the house. He removed his black felt hat and slapped it against his leg in anger. I felt the breeze the hat made on my face. He replaced the hat and continued down the orchard path.

  Danny and I remained crouched in the bush for another minute. My legs began to fall asleep, and something tickled at the back of my neck. I mentally swore. If Danny was taking this opportunity to get fresh, he’d leave the Walker farm with a broken wrist. “You’d better not be touching my neck.”

  “It’s not me. It’s a spider.”

  “What!” I squealed. I burst out of the bush clawing at the back of my neck.

  The back door of the farmhouse slammed open, and I hit the dirt on my stomach. Jonah, who was the last person I wanted to catch me spying, stood in the doorway, surveying the yard. Finally, he shook his head and went back into the house.

  Danny crawled out of the bushes.

  “Is the spider gone?” I shivered. I could feel its creepy little legs all over my body.

  Danny smirked. “Yeah, I think you gave it a heart attack.”

  I loved nature, but this expedition was a little too much of a good thing in my opinion. I needed a shower. Stat.

  Danny started to hop around like he was receiving electroshock treatment.

  “What’s wrong with you?” I demanded.

  “I think the spider got on my back.” He ran in place.

  “Hold still and turn around.”

  Danny turned and twenty-some ants were crawling around on the back of his khakis.

  “Umm, good news. It’s not a spider. Bad news, they’re ants. Lots of ants. I think you sat in a nest.”

  His jerking got worse. “Get them off of me!”

  “Stop making so much noise. Someone will hear you.”

  He waved his hands as if in an attempt to rid himself of the ants. It wasn’t working. “Get. Them. Off.”

  There was no way I was touching Danny. I picked up a dead limb from one of the apple trees.

  His eyes grew wide. “What’s that for?”

  “The ants.”

  “Are you going to beat them to death?” He jumped a few feet away. “Never mind.” He swiped his hands on his back end. He turned around again. “Are they gone?”

  “Pretty much. There are two on your right pocket, but that’s it.”

  He swatted the last two creepy-crawlies.

  I grinned. “On the bright side, they aren’t fire ants. If that happened in Texas, you’d be crying for your mama right now.”

  He scowled at me. “I’m crying for my mama anyway. I have ants in my pants. Real ants. I have to get out of here.” He shook out his pant leg, and several ants flew in my direction.

  Jumping out of the way, I stifled a laugh.

  “I’m glad you find this so amusing.” He stomped his feet to shake more of the creepy-crawlies loose. “I’m leaving.”

  “That sounds like an excellent idea,” I said, trying to fight back a snicker.

  “I’ll get you back for this, Braddock.”

  “Get me back. For what?”

  “You were the one who made me sit on the anthill.” His voice shook with anger.

  “Quiet down. Do you want Elijah to see you?”

  “No,” he said grumpily. “Ouch!” he cried, and rubbed his calf. “It bit me.” He ran for the street in the direction of his car.

  “Hey, wait!” I ran after him.

  Danny had already shifted into reverse by the time I got to the car. Dust settled back onto the dirt road where his car had been seconds before. The birds twittered in the apple trees and the bees buzzed some more. Danny got back at me after all.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  I reached into my pocket for my smartphone. I hit the GPS. The device blinked twice and went out. I smacked it against my forehead. I forgot to charge it the night before. Now what was I going to do?

  I looked back at the Walker farm. Jonah was there. He could give me a ride back to Millersburg. Did I have a choice? I didn’t know my way back to town, and if it was fifteen minutes by car going fifty miles per hour, which was the speed limit for most of the back county roads, it would take me hours to get home.

  I walked to the road. I thought that was a better way to approach the house than from the apple orchard.

  I was close to the road when Elijah stepped in front of me. “Who are you?”

  My mind went completely blank as my annoyance at Danny was replaced by ice-cold fear. “I’m, umm, I’m—”

  I wanted to question Elijah, but not like this, alone on a country road. I gritted my teeth. Danny Nicolson would be sorry when I got my hands on him, if I lived so long.

  “I’m Angie Braddock. I’m the new owner of Running Stitch, the quilt shop in Rolling Brook,” I managed.

  “I know where it is,” he snapped. “You’re the Englischer who killed my brother-in-law.”

  I shook my head. “Oh no, no, I didn’t do it. I promise.”

  He shrugged as if it made no difference to him. “You’re a long way from town.”

  “I enjoy walking. I may have wandered farther than I planned.”

  He’s never going to buy that.

  “You’re like the rest of the Englischers. You lie.”

  I bit the inside of my lip. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “My loss? What are you talking about, Englischer? Joseph is no loss of mine. My sister is upset, but in the end, it will be better for her. She can make her own choices now. Joseph was too controlling of her.”

  “That’s too bad.” I took a step closer to the road. “I guess I’ll see you around.” All the questions in my head about Joseph and Elijah and how he felt about his brother-in-law would have to wait until I had some witnesses around and maybe an armed bodyguard.

  Elijah stuck his hand into his pocket and pulled out a metal lighter. From his other pocket, he removed a hand-rolled cigarette. He flicked the light to life with his thumbnail, which would be an impressive trick had it not reminded me why Elijah went to jail in the first place. He set the flame against the end of the cigarette. He inhaled deeply.

  What did Mattie see in this guy?

  “You enjoy your smoke,” I said lamely. Up the street, dust shot up into the air from an approaching car. Danny was coming back to get me. Thank goodness.

  Elijah noted the dust too. “Stay away from my family. I won’t ask you again.” He threw his half-smoked cigarette on the ground and disappeared into the orchard. I stomped on the smoldering butt.

  The car came into view. To my disappointment, it wasn’t Danny. It was a monster-sized SUV instead of his little silver coupe. The driver stopped and powered down the driver-side window. Trustee Jung in an ill-fitted business suit and greasy hair sat behind the wheel. He grinned. “What are you doing all the way out here, Angela?”

  “Out for a walk,” I said quickly. “I lost my way.” At least that part was true, because I had no idea how to get back home.

  “You’re ten miles from Millersburg. You must really enjoy walking.”

  “I love it,” I said enthusiastically.

  “Do you need a lift back to town?”

  Get into a car with a murder suspect. I don’t think so. “No, I’m good. I love walking.”

  He glowered. “You already said that.” He searched my face. “Are you going to tell me what you were doing so close to the Walker farm?”

  “I’m near the Walker farm?” I feigned ignorance. “What are you doing out here?”

  He smiled coldly. “Just out for a drive.”

  Yeah, right.

  “At the Watermelon Fest meeting, you and some of the other members seemed upset with Joseph Walker and the more conservative Amish’s resistance to the fest.”

  He raised his brow, and it touched his greasy hairline. “We are. The fest is important for the econ
omy, both the Amish and non-Amish economy.”

  “Was anyone extremely upset? Upset to the point of anger?”

  “Like angry enough to kill Joseph?” He barked a laugh that sounded eerily similar to a honk of a goose. “Are you insinuating someone killed Joseph over watermelon?”

  “I’m making conversation.” I shrugged as if it didn’t matter to me. “The sheriff told me I could have my shop back tomorrow, so the Watermelon Fest should be no problem.”

  A smile curled his thin lips. “Excellent. You can go ahead and thank me.”

  “Thank you?”

  “I told you I would talk to the sheriff about your shop. I did yesterday afternoon and now you will open tomorrow.”

  “Mitchell said I could reopen because they had finished processing the scene.”

  He waved the comment away. His pinkie ring caught the sunlight beaming in through the windshield. “He was saving face.” He smiled to himself. “The Watermelon Fest was my brainchild. Since I have been trustee of Rolling Brook, I have done a lot of good for the town.”

  “I know Willow is excited about the Watermelon Fest,” I said lamely.

  “Of course she is. All the English shopkeepers are. It’s the Amish I always have to worry about. The smallest of changes seem to offend them.”

  I thought about my aunt and uncle and about their graciousness and flexibility toward me when I would visit in the summers. They never expected me to dress plain and let me use the shed phone they shared with their neighbors to call my parents once per week. “I don’t think all Amish are that way. They’re people too, and they are all different from each other.”

  Farley snorted. “When push comes to shove, they will band together against us. Are you sure you wouldn’t like a ride back to town?”

  “Nope. I’m good.”

  He looked me up and down. “Good luck reopening the quilt shop tomorrow, Angela. I might drop in.” He powered up his window and sped away, spraying a cloud of dust into my face.