Murder, Served Simply

by Isabella Alan

  I wondered how many times Junie’s quiet nature was compared to her sister’s lively spirit. Something told me that wouldn’t stop, even now that Eve was dead.

  “I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. I’m happy I have Junie working here. She’s dependable.”

  Eve was special, and Junie was dependable. The two compliments didn’t have the same ring to them.

  “Eve’s the reason I turned the barn into a playhouse. I wasn’t using the barn for anything more than storage. She always said it would be the perfect place to put on plays, and she explained how much business it could bring me.”

  I kept one eye on Oliver as he sniffed around the edge of the whirlpool. I really didn’t want to get wet this morning.

  “So you knew about her dream to be an actress when you hired her.”

  “No, but not long after she started working here, she told me about those career aspirations. She knew she would have to leave the Amish to become an actress.” She pressed the tissues into the tabletop. “I encouraged her to follow her dreams, and when she did leave, I gave her a place to live here at the hotel until she was ready to make her move to New York.

  “I helped her get her social security number, driver’s license, even her birth certificate. When Amish children are born, they have none of those things. It’s like they don’t even exist, at least as far as the English world is concerned.” She sighed. “She left Holmes County two years ago. It was hard to let her go, but I was so proud of her. She had to overcome a lot to make her dream come true.”

  The question was, had Eve’s dream really come true? Yes, she moved to New York, but she was struggling as an actress, so much so that she was willing to come back to Holmes County to star in a small production.

  I wrinkled my brow. “Did Eve stay in touch with you after she moved to New York?”

  “From time to time she would send me a letter about her life in New York. She had a dream to perform on Broadway, but it’s difficult for any young child, especially a former Amish child, to break in. She worked at a deli to pay her portion of the rent for a tiny one-bedroom apartment that she shared with six other roommates.”

  I grimaced.

  “She wasn’t a wild child in New York,” Mimi said. “She worked hard and was practical. She knew it would take time to achieve her dreams. An Amish Christmas was really just the beginning. She was going to be a star.”

  “How did she even hear about Broadway? That’s not something most Amish children know about.”

  “When she was a child, one of her English friends used to let Eve sneak over so they could watch DVDs of musicals. Eve fell in love with the theater”

  “What’s this friend’s name? Where can I find her?”

  “I think her name is Amber. Junie would know.”

  But would she tell me? Junie wasn’t as forthcoming with information as I would hope her to be.

  “Did her family know you helped her leave their district?”

  She nodded. “Her father came and talked to me twice about her.”

  “And they didn’t mind Junie working here? Weren’t they afraid you’d convince Junie to leave too?”

  She shoved the used tissues into the pocket of her suit jacket. “No one is afraid that Junie will leave the Amish. I need to get back to work. You will need to forgive me for breaking down like this. You see, I was never able to have children of my own, so this hotel was my child in many ways until Eve came into my life.”

  I reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “There’s nothing to forgive. Someone you loved died. Cry as much as you need to.”

  Tears appeared in her eyes again. “When she told me that she was coming back here to be a part of the play, I was thrilled, but now . . . now, I wish she had never come.”

  As I was about to ask her if she knew Junie asked her to return for the play, a large crow landed on the glass roof above. It tapped its long black beak on the windowpane. Oliver’s neck snapped up, and his eyes bugged out of his head. He yipped in terror and ran straight into the pool with a giant splash.

  “Oh my word,” Mimi shouted.

  Without a moment’s hesitation, I kicked off my boots and jumped into the pool. Oliver was only a foot away from where I landed in the water. I wrapped an arm around Oliver’s torso and hugged him to my chest.

  The pool was only five feet deep, so my head was well above the waterline.

  Oliver kicked and panted.

  “Shh, shh. You’re okay.”

  “What happened? Did something bite him?”

  I waded through the shallow water to the pool steps. “No. He’s afraid of birds. The crow on the roof gave him a scare.”

  “I’ve never heard of a dog afraid of birds.”

  “Most people haven’t, but my dog seems to like the special attention.” I set Oliver on the ground and wrung out my sweater.

  Above, the crow flew away. It may have just been me, but I thought I heard amusement in its squawk.

  Chapter Twelve

  In the car, I turned the heat up to full blast. Oliver pressed his pushed-in face up against the vent.

  “Don’t hog all the warm air. I’m freezing over here.”

  He cocked his head at me.

  I tugged on a batlike ear. “You’re worth it, buddy. You are always worth it.”

  He gave me a drooling grin. How could a mother not love that face?

  Back at home, I let Oliver and myself inside the house, and struggled out of my boots in the entranceway. My wet socks squished on the tile. I hate wet socks almost as much as Oliver hates birds.

  My parents, bundled up in scarves, hats, winter coats, and gloves, looked like they were ready for a polar expedition.

  My mother’s mouth fell open. “What happened to you?”

  “Oliver fell into the pool at the hotel. I jumped in for the rescue.”

  “Oh my!” Mom covered her mouth.

  Dad squatted next to my Frenchie. “You poor boy. You could have drowned.”

  Oliver gave him his very best poor-me face.

  Dodger wriggled out from under the couch. The kitten stood on his hind legs and licked his brother’s cheek.

  “Where are you off to?” I asked.

  “Since you don’t have time for us today, your father and I thought we would go do a little Christmas shopping and maybe drop in for lunch at one of the restaurants in the county.”

  “That sounds like fun,” I said, ignoring my mother’s jab.

  While my family comforted Oliver, I went upstairs for my second shower of the day, and it wasn’t even ten o’clock in the morning yet.

  • • •

  Dry and warm, Oliver, Dodger, and I headed to Running Stitch. Anna and Mattie must have been wondering what happened to me.

  I parked my little SUV in the community lot across from the mercantile. I tucked Dodger’s soft-sided carrier under one arm and held Oliver’s leash in the other hand.

  The three of us were strolling up the sidewalk when we saw Rachel running toward us. Her black cloak flew behind her like Supergirl’s cap.

  “Angie!” she cried.

  I skidded to a stop. “Rachel, slow down. You are going to fall. What’s gotten into you?”

  She gulped air. “Is it true?”

  “Is what true?” I asked.

  She patted her prayer cap. She wasn’t wearing a bonnet.

  One-handed, I unwrapped the scarf from my neck and wrapped it around Rachel. “You’re going to freeze out here.”

  She accepted the scarf. “I’ll be fine.”

  “What did you want to know about?”

  “I heard Eve Shetler”—her eyes got big as she paused for a moment—“died.”

  Dodger yowled from inside the carrier. He wasn’t one for the cold. I started walking toward Running Stitch again. “Yes, t
hat’s true. It happened during the play last night.”

  Color drained from her face. “I’d hoped that it was just a rumor.”

  “Did you know her?”

  “Eve is my cousin.”

  I stopped dead on the sidewalk. “Your cousin?”

  She nodded. “Shetler is my maiden name.”

  Snowflakes landed on my eyelashes, and I brushed them away. “Why didn’t Mattie tell me?”

  “She may not have remembered. Shetler is a common name, and I speak very little of my own family,” she said barely above a whisper. “I wanted to catch you before you went into the shop to ask. I didn’t want to talk about it in front of the other ladies.”

  I held up my gloved hand. “Wait, wait. If Eve is your cousin, who are your parents?”

  “Nahum.” She swallowed. “Nahum is my father. My mother died when I was small.”

  I blinked at her. “What?” Since I had lived in Holmes County, I had considered Rachel my best friend. I thought I knew her well and knew all her vital information, but this came as a shock. But now that I thought about it, Rachel never spoke about her parents or about any brothers or sisters. Whenever she spoke of family, it was always in reference to the Millers, Aaron’s family.

  Oliver walked around me and wrapped the leash around my legs. I stepped out the tangle. “You’ve never mentioned your dad.”

  “I haven’t spoken to my father in nearly ten years.”

  The snow began to fall harder, but I ignored it. “Why not?”

  She glanced back at the bakery. “Aaron is a gut man, but he wouldn’t like it. My father has made many enemies within the Amish community. It is best to separate myself from him for my husband and children.”

  “What about the rest of the Shetler family? Do you speak to them?”

  She twisted my scarf in her hand. “I can’t tell you how much it breaks my heart to live so close to my cousins and aunts and uncles and have so little interaction with them. I never knew who would speak to me from the family, so I stopped trying.” She bowed her head. “I know that was wrong. I should have kept trying. That is what Gott would want me to do.”

  It was difficult for me to believe that anyone would not want to be friends with Rachel. She had the sweetest spirit of any person I had ever met.

  The door to Running Stitch opened, and Anna stepped out. Her wire-rimmed glasses slid to the tip of her nose, and she shoved a fist into her side. “Angie, the class is already here. We’ve been waiting for you. Mattie has been back from the hotel for more than an hour.”

  “I’m sorry, Anna.” I looked back at Rachel.

  Rachel touched my arm. “Go. We will talk later.” She handed me my scarf.

  I chewed on my lip. “I’ll stop by the bakery after class, okay?”

  She nodded and crossed the street to Miller’s Amish Bakery.

  Anna held the door open for me. “Is something wrong with Rachel?”

  “Eve Shetler was her cousin.”

  Anna put a hand to her cheek. “That’s right. Rachel is a Shetler.” She watched as Rachel stepped into the bakery. “This must be so difficult for her. After the class, we must discuss how we can help.”

  When she said “we,” I knew that Anna meant the entire quilting circle.

  She looked at the cat carrier in my hand. “Did you have to bring that little troublemaker?”

  “You know how Oliver feels when I leave Dodger home alone. He worries.”

  She snorted.

  Inside the shop, I removed Oliver’s snow boots and unhooked his leash. He immediately went over to greet the class, which consisted of a group of ladies who sat in a circle of chairs in the middle of the shop. Last night, before I left for the play, Mattie and I had set up for the class. We pushed the heavy cutting table to the back of the shop beside the large quilting rack so there’d be space for everyone to sit.

  Metal clamps tethered a half-finished Ohio star quilt to the rack. It had been pieced by a woman living in Columbus, and quilting it was the quilting circle’s latest project. It would be done in early January, if Anna could resist taking apart the client’s clumsy piecing stitches and redoing them.

  Lois, a middle-aged woman from Millersburg and a quilting class regular, patted Oliver’s head. “I wondered if you would show up.”

  I opened Dodger’s carrier, and the kitten galloped forward.

  “He is just precious,” another member of the class said.

  “Keep your eye on him,” Lois said knowingly. “He’s a handful.”

  “Ain’t that the truth,” I said. “I’m sorry I’m late, everyone. I got held up at the quilt show at the Swiss Valley Hotel.” When I hung up my coat on the peg on the wall, I saw Sarah Leham standing behind the counter. “I didn’t know you planned to be here today, Sarah.”

  Sarah adjusted her glasses on her nose. “I stopped in to see if I could lend a hand to the class.”

  “That was nice of you. We can always use the help,” I said.

  Anna snorted without looking up from her snowman. “Don’t let her fool you. She’s here because she wants to hear all about Eve Shetler’s death.”

  “That’s not true, Anna Graber. I do want to help with the class.” Her face broke into a grin. “But if I hear a word or two about the goings-on at the Swiss Valley Hotel while I’m helping, is that my fault?”

  “You are going to have to wait for that,” Anna said, nodding to the women waiting for class to begin.

  I tucked my purse under the counter. “Anna’s right. We’ll have to talk about this later. I don’t want to discuss it in front of the class.”

  Mattie carried a tray of cookies and hot cocoa and coffee around to the seven women in the class. Lately, our classes had been larger with nine to ten students, but I was still happy with the turnout because it was close to Christmas. Beside each lady’s chair, there was a tray table she could use for her refreshments and her quilting supplies.

  Shirley, another regular, took coffee only. “Those cookies look scrumptious, but I’m on a strict diet until after my daughter’s wedding on Christmas Eve. Christmas Day can’t come soon enough. But the coffee will certainly take the chill off. I can’t believe what a cold winter we’ve had so far.”

  “It’s just the beginning, Shirley. There are still January, February, and March to get through.”

  Shirley sighed. “Please don’t remind me. My daughter and future son-in-law are going to Puerto Rico for their honeymoon. How I envy them.”

  Mattie filled some more plain white mugs with coffee. Sarah set Danishes on small paper plates, placing them on the tray tables beside each woman’s chair.

  “Angie?” Anna said, watching me. “Are you ready to begin?”

  I blinked. “Yes, of course. Welcome, ladies. I’m so glad you were able to make it out in this cold weather and so close to Christmas too. I know you must all be very busy preparing for the holiday.” I smiled at Shirley. “Especially you, with your big wedding coming up.”

  Shirley sipped her coffee. “I couldn’t miss class. Besides, it gives me a chance to get out of my house. Between Christmas and the wedding, I have twenty people staying with me. It’s impossible to find a moment’s peace.”

  Anna stepped forward. “We are taking a break from our lap quilts for a small project today that we thought you would enjoy.”

  “What’s that?” another woman asked.

  Anna held up the quilted snowman she had made earlier in the week. “By the time you leave class today, you will all have one of these to either give as a Christmas gift to someone you love or keep for yourself.”

  The women oooed and ahhed.

  “That is just the most adorable thing I have ever seen,” Shirley said.

  With the class starting on a new project, I was happy Sarah was there after all to lend another pair of hands. Between the four of
us, we were each able to help two of the students.

  I handed Lois pillow stuffing for her snowman and heard her say, “Terrible shame about Eve Shetler. She was talented. It was a big surprise to think of a child from Rolling Brook making it on Broadway.”

  “Especially an Amish child,” Shirley said.

  “It seems everyone in Holmes County knew Eve,” I said.

  Lois nodded. “She was the kind of girl you took notice of.”

  “She had a special flare,” Shirley agreed. “It makes the loss that much greater.”

  “There was a lot of gossip in town when she left her Amish life and moved into the hotel full-time.” Lois pushed stuffing into the head of her snowman.

  “Moved into the hotel?” Sarah asked. Her eyes sparkled with interest.

  “Right after she left the Amish and before she moved to New York, she lived at the Swiss Valley Hotel with Mimi and her husband until she got on her feet.”

  I had already heard this from Mimi, but I let Shirley continue the story. It would be interesting to hear it from a second perspective.

  “Mimi treated her like she was her own daughter. It might have been because her own girl would have been Eve’s age.”

  “Her own girl?” I asked. “Mimi had children?” Hadn’t Mimi told me she couldn’t have children?

  “She had a daughter,” another woman said.

  Shirley nodded. “She was stillborn. Mimi never really recovered. . . .”

  “How terrible,” I said. “Poor Mimi. How awful to lose another person she loved. I can’t even imagine.”

  Sarah wiped a tear from her eye. “She didn’t have any other children?”

  Shirley shook her head. “She said that she couldn’t bear taking the risk of losing another child she loved. She and her husband divorced not long after they lost the baby.”

  “Eve seemed to have many close ties to the English. Did she have other English friends?” I asked.

  Shirley thought for a moment. “I suppose she had. She had so many friends, both Amish and English. She was the kind of girl who attracted attention. It was clear that she was meant for something bigger than our little town.”