Murder, Plain and Simple

by Isabella Alan

  She laughed. “I’m from a big Amish family, remember? I’m used to carrying a lot. Also I have three kinner.”

  “Well, I’m impressed.”

  “Do you have time to tell me now?”

  I couldn’t talk to her about Mattie and Elijah now that the other ladies were here. “We can talk about it later.”

  Another knock rapped on the door. Rachel breezed out of the kitchen. “I’ll get that. You put that cheese away before someone else sees it.”

  I laughed. After I tucked the cheese back into the refrigerator and picked up the pitcher of lemonade, I went into the living room.

  Anna and Sarah sat on the couch. Abram was on the floor pulling on Oliver’s ear. The little dog didn’t seem to mind. Mattie perched in one of the armchairs. I almost dropped the pitcher.

  Rachel bumped into my back. “I hope you don’t mind that Mattie came with me. She asked to come.” She stepped around me.

  “Absolutely okay,” I said, regaining my composure. “I was just surprised that she didn’t come in with you.”

  Rachel smiled her sweet smile. “She wanted to look at your garden. Mattie loves flowers. This is the first time Mattie has shown an interest in quilting. I’ve been trying to get her to join for years. You should see her cross-stitch. It’s gorgeous.”

  The younger Amish woman blushed. “I do enjoy it.”

  “Have you quilted before?” Anna asked.

  “A little,” Mattie said barely above a whisper. “My mamm taught me, of course. We never had much time to dedicate to it because of the bakery.”

  Anna nodded. “Yes, I know your family works hard at the bakery, but then it’s one of the biggest draws to Rolling Brook.”

  Sarah laid pieces of a bear-claw quilt on her skirted lap. “Where’s Martha? Is she coming?”

  I peeked out my front window as I passed it. Three Amish buggies were parked outside my window. I wondered what all my young professional friends back home in Dallas would think if they saw me now. What would Ryan think of it? I started. It was the first time that I had thought of Ryan all day. Did that mean I’d recovered from my broken heart? Or was I simply distracted by murder? “I don’t know if she will be here. I couldn’t find her today, but I left a message on the shed phone closest to her house.”

  “I’m certain she knows about it, then.” Anna pursed her lips together. “If she’s not here, there must be a gut reason.”

  Sarah leaned forward. “That’s strange. With Running Stitch closed, you would think she would have time to come. She doesn’t have a husband or children to tend to like the rest of us.”

  “I’m sure the next time we meet, she will tell us why she wasn’t here,” Anna said, ending the conversation about Martha.

  I felt Sarah watching me as I set the lemonade in the middle of the coffee table next to the iced tea and cookies Rachel already put there. I cleared my throat. “Speaking of Running Stitch, the sheriff told me today that the shop can reopen tomorrow morning.”

  Rachel clasped her hands together as she lowered herself to a stool. “Angie, that’s wonderful news. Truly.” Abram played with blocks on his blanket a few inches from Oliver, who was the self-appointed babysitter.

  I smiled. “I’m looking forward to opening up, especially considering the upcoming event this weekend.”

  Anna frowned. “You mean the watermelons.”

  I nodded.

  The ladies all grew very quiet.

  “Do the Amish not like watermelons or something?”

  Anna snorted. “No, no, Angie. Watermelons are fine. Some are afraid that if too many tourists come to Rolling Brook, we will lose our true identity.”

  My brow wrinkled. “Is that how you feel?”

  Anna smiled. “No, but I don’t want you to put yourself in a position that might offend some in the community.”

  “I don’t know how this little fest will make that much of a difference,” I said.

  Sarah poured herself a glass of iced tea. “Have you ever been to Lancaster County?”

  “No,” I admitted.

  “We are not judging, but the Amish there run a few of the towns like a Walt Disney World attraction. Billboards everywhere, fifteen companies giving buggy rides, countless inns and hotels.”

  “Is that bad?” I asked.

  Anna removed quilt pieces from her basket. “Nee, of course not, but neither is it bad not to want to be like that. To be an authentic Amish town with Amish shopkeepers doing the work they’ve done for generations.”

  “I see your point, but Holmes County is already one of the most popular tourist destinations in Ohio. Shouldn’t Rolling Brook benefit from that?”

  Sarah replaced her iced tea on the table and took up her piecing. “I agree with Angie. We shouldn’t be afraid of something that will bring business to Rolling Brook. We will never grow as large as Intercourse in Lancaster, or even Berlin down the road. I think all the worry will be for nothing.”

  Anna wrapped thread around the tip of her needle for the quilter’s knot. “I think most Amish will come around. The biggest naysayer was Joseph Walker, and he’s gone now.”

  Again, I wondered if Willow and Farley were viable suspects.

  “My brother doesn’t like the idea either.” Mattie spoke up for the first time. Her breathy voice was low.

  Rachel blushed. “My husband will be happy when it brings new customers into the bakery, which it surely will.”

  I picked up my own sewing basket and removed the crazy quilt I had started in Texas right after Ryan dumped me. A crazy quilt can be just about any quilt made without a pattern and with different kinds of fabric, very different from the way Amish make quilts. The Texas night sky was my inspiration, and I was just winging it as I went along. The colors were royal purple, navy, gold, bronze, and silver. Seeing it gave me a stab of homesickness.

  “What’s that?” Anna said, leaning forward.

  I blushed and handed it to her. “A quilt I started right before I moved.”

  Anna stretched the quilt topper over her lap. “You made this?”

  I nodded. “It’s my own design. A crazy quilt. It’s supposed to be the night sky over Texas.”

  Rachel stood off and examined the quilt on Anna’s lap. “Angie, it’s beautiful. A work of art.”

  “Let me see.” Sarah adjusted her wire-rimmed glasses.

  Anna handed the topper to her.

  Sarah ran her hand along the stitches.

  I blushed. “I machine stitched it.”

  “That doesn’t matter. The color choices and pattern are schee, beautiful,” Sarah said.

  Now my cheeks were red-hot. “Thank you,” I murmured.

  Sarah handed the quilt to Anna.

  She inspected it more closely than the other two women. “Angie, you have the potential to be as gut a quilter as Eleanor. You have the eye. You only need to practice your hand stitching.”

  I tried to stifle the grin growing on my face. I knew the Amish believed in humility, but I couldn’t hold it back. “Really?”

  Rachel returned to her stool. “Really.”

  “I hope so, and I want this circle for teaching techniques too.” I cleared my throat. “I think the circle can help lots of women. I would love to have three or four classes running out of the shop for different groups. Maybe a machine-quilting group for English women, and a hand-stitching group for beginners. Running Stitch has so much potential. We could also teach classes and give demonstrations.” My ideas came out in a rush.

  They were silent. Remembering the conversation of the Amish desire to keep Rolling Brook small, I worried that maybe these ideas were more than the ladies bargained for. Here I was some English upstart from Texas, trying to teach them something about running a business in Holmes County.

  Anna slipped her reading glasses onto her nose. “Even
though Gott tells us not to be prideful, Eleanor would be so proud of you right now.”

  I grinned. “Do you know other ladies who would be interested in quilting?”

  “Of course,” Sarah said. “Almost all Amish women quilt at least a little, and it’s popular among the Englischers too.”

  “Do you think Abigail would like to join the circle now?” I let the question hang in the air. They all knew that I was going to add, “now that Joseph is dead.”

  Sarah selected a butterscotch cookie. “Abigail has wanted to join the circle for years. You should see her work. It’s exquisite. Almost as gut as Eleanor’s was. She didn’t join because of her husband. He didn’t approve of Eleanor running the shop on her own.”

  Anna leaned over and patted my knee. “I think it’s a nice gesture that you want to ask her, but we should wait a few weeks. She needs time to adjust to her new life.”

  I chose a snickerdoodle from the tray. “That’s what I was thinking. Maybe I will ask her in the fall.”

  “A fine idea,” Anna said. “Have you mentioned any of your big ideas for Running Stitch to Martha?”

  I looked up from my quilt. “No. We haven’t had the time to discuss it with everything that has happened. I was hoping to tell her tonight before I told all of you. I know I should have spoken to her first about it, but I couldn’t help myself.”

  Sarah and Rachel shared a look.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Martha won’t be happy we know about this before she does,” Rachel said quietly.

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Don’t you know that she considered Running Stitch her store?” Sarah said. “She did from the moment Eleanor became ill.”

  Anna folded her hands on top of her quilt. “Martha thought she was the one who would inherit the quilt shop when Eleanor died. She talked about it often. She was upset when she learned it was going to you.”

  I felt a pang in my chest.

  Sarah broke her cookie in half. “That’s the real reason why she’s not here,” Sarah said, which only made me feel worse.

  Chapter Thirty

  The ladies and I quilted in silence for a few minutes. Learning how Martha really felt about my owning the shop was a shock. Perhaps she changed her mind about me since I moved to Holmes County? Again I remembered she was the only other person with a key to the shop.

  Rachel laughed. “We are almost out of cookies. I have more in my basket in the kitchen.” She started to stand.

  “I will get it.” Mattie jumped up from her seat.

  “Danki,” her sister-in-law said.

  Mattie picked up the plate and hurried into the kitchen. After a moment, I excused myself and followed her. Before I left the living room, I saw Sarah’s eyebrows shoot up.

  In the kitchen, Mattie arranged the cookies onto the plate. “Thank you for holding the circle in your home. My sister-in-law is right; I do enjoy quilting. I love to do anything I can with my hands.” She frowned. “Just not baking.”

  “You don’t like working at the bakery?”

  “Nee. The hours are long and every day is the same. We must get up at the same time every morning to make sure everything is ready to open at eight. That means getting to the shop at four. I would love to sleep in until five someday.” She blushed. “I should not complain. There are many without such a job or a family to care for them. My brother and Rachel took me in when my parents died. They both have been very gut to me.”

  “I’m an only child. While growing up, I always wanted a brother or sister to play with, someone to take some of my mother’s attention off of me.”

  Mattie laughed.

  I bit the inside of my lip. “Have you seen Elijah Knepp lately?”

  Her smile disappeared as she wiped her hands on her dark purple skirt and smoothed her black apron on top. “Why would I know anything about him?”

  “He was your sweetheart.”

  She snapped the basket lid closed. “Did Rachel tell you that?”

  “Yes.”

  Her eyes began to water in the corners.

  “She had good intentions for telling me. She wanted to warn me about him. She knows that I would like to talk to him.”

  “About what?” Mattie asked.

  “Joseph.”

  The name hung in the air between us for a moment.

  She gripped the counter. “I have not seen him. My brother would not allow it.”

  “Mattie, I saw you with him this very morning.” I tried to keep my voice gentle.

  Her face flushed. “That’s not possible.”

  “You were at the Walker farm and met him in an outbuilding close to the orchard.”

  Mattie gasped. “How could you have seen us? You were not there.” She covered her mouth with her hand as she realized she’d admitted she was with Elijah that morning.

  “Did he tell you anything about Joseph?”

  Tears gathered in her eyes. “He said Joseph was the reason he went to jail, but that he did not kill him.” Her voice dropped to a whisper as a tear slid down her pale cheek. “He promised me he didn’t do it.”

  “You believe him.”

  “You do not understand him. I’m the only one who does.”

  “Didn’t he burn down the Grabers’ barn?”

  Her eyes flashed. “It was an accident.”

  I wasn’t sure how dousing the barn with kerosene could be an accident, but I didn’t say that because I didn’t want her to storm out of the house.

  “Elijah has had a difficult life.”

  “Other than going to prison?”

  She glared at me. “Ya. His father was a harsh man.” She lowered her voice. “He hit his wife, Elijah and Abigail’s mother, many times in front of the children. Elijah told the bishop, who did nothing. Many Amish don’t see why this is wrong. Elijah said the best thing that ever happened to his family was his father’s death.”

  “When did he die?”

  “We were in our last year of school, when Elijah and I were in the eighth grade.”

  “Did you ever tell anyone about Elijah’s father?”

  “Nee, he asked me not to, and I keep my word.” She frowned. “Until now. But I am telling you because Elijah believed Abigail married someone like their father.”

  “Did Joseph hit Abigail?”

  “I don’t know. Elijah only said that he was cruel to her. I never pressed him. That is not the Amish way.”

  Clearly, I would make a terrible Amish person because I was always pressing people for more information. Mattie might not know it, but she gave me another reason Elijah might have killed Joseph—to protect his sister.

  She nodded. “Please don’t tell Rachel or Aaron about this.”

  “Rachel is—”

  “I know Rachel is your gut friend, but I promised myself that I would not see Elijah again, and not for my family, but for me. Seeing him today was so difficult, and I know in my heart this is what Gott wants me to do.” She wiped another tear from her eye. “Will you tell?”

  “I won’t tell.”

  She gave me a watery smile. “Gut. I did not come here to talk about Elijah. I came here to escape thinking about Elijah.”

  I patted her arm. “I can tell you from firsthand experience that quilting helps heal wounds from a broken heart.”

  “Is your heart broken?”

  “It was, but every day it gets a little better.”

  Sarah stepped into the kitchen. “Is anything wrong?” she asked eagerly as if she hoped we would say yes. “You two are taking an awful long time in here.”

  Mattie spun around to hide her tears.

  I picked up the tray of cookies. “Nothing’s wrong.”

  “Mattie looks upset.” Sarah took a step closer to the younger Amish woman.

  “Allergies,” I s
aid.

  Sarah squinted at me through her glasses. “I’ve never known Mattie to have allergies.”

  “Well, she does,” I said.

  “Do you have allergies, Mattie?”

  “Something here has made my eyes water.” She touched the corner of her right eye. “Excuse me.” Mattie hurried past Sarah in the direction of the bathroom.

  Sarah placed her hands on her hips. “I don’t buy the allergies bit for a second. You said something to Mattie to make her cry. It was about Elijah Knepp, wasn’t it? The two were promised to each other before Elijah went upriver.”

  I snorted a laugh. “Upriver? That doesn’t sound like an Amish phrase.”

  “Well, I watched some television during my rumspringa.” She placed her hand on my arm. “You won’t tell me what was really going on in here, will you?”

  I shook my head.

  She dropped her hand. “Fair enough. I always find out, one way or another.” She left the kitchen. Sarah missed her calling. She should have been a gossip columnist. I wondered if the Amish Budget had such a column.

  As I followed Mattie into the living room, Anna said to Mattie, “What kept you two so long?”

  Mattie sat and began her quilting again. “I don’t wish to speak of it.”

  Anna smiled at her. “It’s gut you’re taking up quilting, then. Eleanor always said a quilt was the best keeper of a woman’s secrets.”

  I nearly dropped the cookie tray.

  Mattie took it from me. “Are you all right, Angie?”

  “Yes, I’m fine. I—”

  Sarah watched me over her cup of tea.

  I shut my mouth. My heart thumped in my chest. That was it, why the quilt was torn to bits. That was where my aunt hid the deed. That wedding ring quilt was her favorite quilt she made. It would make perfect sense that she would place the deed there for safekeeping.

  “Angie, you are as white as a sheet,” Rachel said.

  I felt the women’s eyes on me. “I’m just worried about Martha. That’s all.”

  Anna frowned. She wasn’t buying it but didn’t contradict me. She folded her quilt squares. “Ladies, I think it’s time to go. Angie needs some rest.”