Pinched, Pilfered and a Pitchfork (We're Not Dead Yet Club Book 4)

by Constance Barker

  “Such as cellphones?”

  “That is certainly something that many of our youngsters on rumspringa are allowed for a time.”

  Hazel snapped her fingers excitedly. “I knew I hadn’t imagined it.” She turned back to Jethro and explained: “I thought I saw a young Amish lad in town with a cellphone.”

  Jethro shrugged. “It happens. I understand Jebediah has one as well, although I’ve never seen it personally.”

  “And what about friends?” I asked, carefully eyeing Hazel to assure her that I wasn’t about to give the game away. “Are they allowed to formulate friendships with the locals?”

  “If they wish,” Jethro replied. “Although, in Jebediah’s case, it will soon be time for him to decide whether he wishes to stay with us here or leave. If he chooses to stay, he will not be allowed to maintain those friendships…”

  “And if he goes?”

  Jethro’s eyes spun around to meet mine. “Then he will leave his family and be shunned for the rest of his life.” He paused for a moment before seeing the shock on my face and adding: “It is the way it has always been. You are Amish or you are not. There is no middle ground.”

  I nodded slowly. In the back of my mind, I began to feel a deep sense of sympathy for Jebediah and Charlotte. Such a horrible decision at such a young age can’t be easy and yet, if Jethro was to be believed, it is something that Jebediah was always aware of from the beginning.

  As I allowed my thoughts to circle my mind, a small idea came floating forward. Without warning, I cleared my throat and addressed Jethro, practically cutting Hazel off as she excitedly described a couple of chickens that she was interested in purchasing.

  “Jethro, I wonder if Jebediah has told you of the events at Susan’s furniture store?”

  “He has.”

  “What do you make of it?”

  Jethro stared at me for a long time before answering. “What is there to make of it?”

  “There is an implication that someone may have stolen the furniture.”

  “Not easy to do without being spotted.”

  “I agree,” I replied. “Unless, of course, you are frequently seen around turn with large amounts of furniture.”

  Jethro’s eyes narrowed. “What is your point?”

  “I was just wondering what you thought of that?”

  Jethro took several deep breaths. “Miss Clara, one thing you must understand about the Amish is that we have separated ourselves from the outside world as much as possible for a reason. We are deeply suspicious of those outside the community – those are people who are driven by material objects and shiny things. We have no such desires here. So if you are asking me what has happened in this furniture store I can only give two answers. The first - that there has been some kind of mistake. And the second – that someone has stolen it. But you can rest assured, Miss Clara, that if someone has stolen anything from that store, that person is definitely not Amish!”

  We didn’t stay in the farmhouse long. Jethro’s demeanor had darkened rather quickly and I couldn’t help thinking that we had out stayed our welcome.

  As we emerged out into the farmyard, we met up with Ida May who was laughing hysterically and gesturing wildly behind her as Percy trudged angrily out of the barn. From a distance, it was hard to tell what she was laughing at but, as Percy came closer, it became blindingly obvious. All up his left leg, Percy had now acquired a series of brown splatters that matched the nice, big stain round his waist. His hands were soiled and his face and hair bore the tell-tale disruption of a man who’d collapsed head first into a hay pile.

  As we all tried to stifle our laughs, he came to a stop right in front of us.

  “Why, Percy,” Hazel said excitedly. “What has happened to you?”

  Percy’s eyes swooped over to Ida May, glaring hard at her before returning back to us. With a long sigh, he rubbed his forehead, depositing a little more brown muck on his brow before muttering:

  “I really hate goats…”

  We didn’t stop laughing for ten minutes.

  Chapter Twelve – Insurance

  It took Percy quite a long time to clean himself up – Jethro even allowed him a room in the farmhouse and a set of new clothes. When he reemerged again, he looked like he could fit right in with all the laborers that were wandering around the farm. Having taken quite a while to calm down already, Ida May almost burst out laughing once again as she eyed the plain black trousers and white shirt that Percy was wearing. She even took a few steps up towards him and pinged his suspenders before finally losing it as Percy donned a straw hat.

  “Butch, you look ridiculous…”

  “I don’t know,” Percy replied, shoving his hands in his pockets and gently rotating his body back and forth. “It’s quite nice in a way.”

  “You look so silly…”

  “And how are you planning on getting back to town, Ida May – given that I’m driving?”

  The laughter stopped instantly. “You look very nice, Percy.”

  “Thank you, Ida May.”

  Percy was so pleased with his new outfit that it was a good mile or two down the road before he first noticed the sound of scratching coming from the back of the van.

  “What was that?”

  “I didn’t hear anything,” Hazel replied quickly.

  “What was what, Percy?” Ida May chipped in, her mouth broadening into a grin.

  A muffled clucking sound emanated from the back of the van.

  “That!” Percy replied through gritted teeth. “What was that?”

  “I didn’t hear…”

  “Is there a chicken in the back of my van?”

  “No,” Hazel replied firmly, her face falling as though she were genuinely insulted.

  “Hazel, I swear to God, if there is a chicken in the van, I’ll…”

  “When did I have time to get a chicken?” Hazel replied, staring absently out of the window. “Wouldn’t you have noticed?”

  Percy’s eyes narrowed as the sound of more scratching drifted over our shoulders.

  “Swear to me, Hazel.”

  Hazel turned back towards him. “Percy, I swear a chicken is not in the back of your van.”

  Percy didn’t seem too convinced, but he let it slide anyway. Beside me, I could feel Ida May’s shoulders bouncing up and down as she tried to stifle more laughter while Percy stared menacingly at the road ahead.

  When we arrived back in town, he was the first out of the van, scooting round to the back doors while Hazel tried her best to keep up.

  “Percy, what are you up to?”

  “I told you, Hazel, there better not be any…”

  He flung open the doors and glared inside. It was difficult to tell though the piles of Ida May’s furniture but, as Percy stared into the darkness of the van there was not a single sound of scratching nor a single cluck to be heard. After thirty seconds or so, he finally scratched his head and pushed the doors closed, turning back towards Hazel who stood defiantly waiting for an apology.

  “Sorry…” Percy muttered, staring down at his new, plain shoes as he played with his suspenders.

  “I should think so too,” Hazel replied, folding her arms on top of each other. “To think that you could believe something so terrible…”

  “Hold up.” Ida May arrived around the side of the van, gesturing down the street a little way. “Look.”

  We followed the direction of her pointing finger until our eyes fell on a small bank a little way down the street. For a moment, I couldn’t see what she was gesturing towards until finally my eyes fell on a figure walking slowly out of the building. We watched as Gary, dragging his feet along the pavement and reading from a piece of paper in his hand, made his way slowly up the street towards us. He didn’t even seem to notice we were there until he almost bumped into us.

  “Good afternoon, Gary.”

  “Hmmm?” His sullen eyes rose up to meet ours, but his expression hadn’t changed. “Oh. Good afternoon, ladies.”
>
  Something wasn’t right. This wasn’t the headstrong and frankly rude man we’d met before. There was something troubling him – something that made his face look taut and his eyes droop with tiredness. I was tempted to allow him to pass by without any further comment, but Ida May was too interested to just let it go.

  “Everything all right?”

  Gary stopped and turned towards her. “Not really. But there’s not much you can do to help…”

  “We can try,” replied Hazel, stepping away from the back of the van.

  “How? Have you moved into insurance now?”

  “Insurance?”

  Gary nodded. “I’ve just been chatting with the bank – trying to see if we can make a claim on this missing furniture business…”

  “And can you?”

  He looked at me wearily before shaking his head. “Not without proof that it has been stolen. They won’t pay out for anything less than a police report…”

  “So, why don’t you call the police?”

  Gary sniggered. “I did call them when this first started – long before you showed up. They want the same thing. Unless there is proof that the furniture is missing, they won’t look into it.”

  Ida May bit her bottom lip. “What about the inventory?”

  Gary shook his head. “It’s not enough. They say unless we report a break in, there’s no way to know whether we’ve just hid it. There hasn’t been a break in, and we’re not about to make one up, so that’s that…” He sighed, swiping the piece of paper against his leg. “I’ve just been talking to the bank about remortgaging my woodshop…”

  “It’s that serious?” asked Hazel.

  “I don’t have another choice. It’s either that or we both go bust…”

  Ida May, Hazel and I all exchanged glances – the sort of looks that say:

  There goes the theory that it’s all a setup…

  Percy, however, seemed far more reluctant to just accept his word for it.

  “So, that’s it? You’re just giving up?”

  Gary’s tired eyes swooped over to him. “What do you suggest I do?”

  “Find the person who stole the furniture!”

  Gary chuckled. “Look, for all I know its just one big screw up by my wife. There’s no evidence that the furniture went missing and isn’t just lost in the paperwork. How can I catch a thief when I don’t even know when a crime has been committed?”

  “You can’t,” Percy replied, grabbing hold of my and Hazel’s shoulders and pulling us in tighter. “But the We’re Not Dead Yet Club can!”

  Gary eyed each of us in turn before giving a little grateful smile and nod.

  “That’s kind of you,” he replied solemnly. “But you can’t help us.”

  And with that, he moved on past us and continued his slow trudge down the street.

  We watched for a few moments before we all became aware of someone moving up behind us.

  “Poor lad,” the person said. “Some men have all the bad luck…”

  Chapter Thirteen – A Little Press Information

  We all turned to face the newcomer. He was an older man – probably in his seventies – with a great mass of bushy white hair that spread from ear to ear along his chin line and a slightly tamer hairline over the top of his forehead. In fact, it struck me that this man – had he been dressed in slightly plainer clothes – might well have passed for one of the Amish community.

  As it was, his chest was broad from a life of indulgent eating, his suit was fine and grey and an elaborate, golden pocket watch hung from one of the buttons of his waistcoat. He doffed his wide-brimmed hat and smiled at us each in turn before holding out his hand for me to shake.

  “Excuse my rudeness,” he said jovially. “I’m Joe Miller. I own the Chessville Herald – the local town newspaper.”

  I tentatively shook his hand and waited as Joe went to each of my companions in turn to shake theirs. When he got to Ida May, the two exchanged a small smile before he turned back to the rest of us.

  “And you, if I understand rightly, are the We’re Not Dead Yet Club. Am I right?”

  “You seem remarkably well informed, Mr. Miller,” Percy replied.

  Joe laughed. “Well you have to be when you own a small rag like mine. Any little bit of news and you have to be there to swoop in on it.”

  “You know who we are?”

  Joe turned to Hazel and smiled. “Why, yes, ma’am. Not many newspaper owners who haven’t heard of you lovely ladies. That recent grizzly business really did the rounds…” His eyes scanned over to where Percy stood awkwardly. “Although, I must admit, I was under the impression that only the ladies were involved…”

  Percy opened his mouth to respond, but Ida May got there first. She quickly wrapped her arms around Percy and pressed her head against his shoulder like a showgirl drooping herself over the main act.

  “Percy here is an honorary member,” she replied, stroking the back of his hair with her fingertips. “Frankly, he’s the best out of all of us…”

  “Am I?” Percy winced as Ida May pinched the back of his neck. “I am,” he said hurriedly.

  “And how,” I interrupted, pulling Joe’s focus away from Ida May’s antics, “did you find out about us being here, Mr. Miller?”

  Joe tapped his nose knowingly. “Sorry, ma’am, I can’t give up my sources.”

  “But you know something about Gary?”

  Joe turned back towards Hazel. “I do indeed. Although, I feel unwilling to give up my information until I have something for my paper. Life’s so slow here – whatever you ladies are up to must be pretty juicy…”

  Luckily I was quick enough to reply before Hazel got over excited and blurted everything out.

  “Quid pro quo, Mr. Miller. You tell us your information and then we’ll give you a story.”

  Joe thought for a moment before nodding with contentment.

  “Fair enough,” he replied.

  He gestured towards a bench nearby and headed over to it. Once we were all settled down – with the exception of Percy who was forced to stand – he rubbed his hands together in glee and began to speak:

  “What would you like to know?”

  “You said that Gary had all the bad luck.”

  Joe nodded to Ida May. “That I did. You see I can’t help feeling sorry for young Gary. I’ve been in the town since I was a child – I remember the day his family arrived. A horrible day it was too…”

  Hazel thought for a moment. “Why? Was it raining?”

  Joe chuckled. “No, ma’am. But it may as well have been. No, Gary is a good guy and he was a great kid, but his family wasn’t quite right, if you catch my drift. The father had disappeared off long before they got here and Gary’s mom was partial to drink. That left Gary to bring up his brother and sister. His sister – now that was a crying shame…”

  “Why?” Ida May asked. “What happened?”

  “It was all over the town. She was out playing one afternoon when she crossed the road without looking. One of the Amish was driving his buggy down the street and she darted out right in front of him…” Joe paused, as though the memory of it all was too painful. “There was nothing he could do about it. But I don’t think old Gary there was too fond of the Amish after that.”

  “You mean Gary hated the Amish enough to set them up?”

  Joe’s eyes sparkled at Hazel. “That depends,” he muttered. “On what you mean by setting up?”

  “Well if Gary… Ouch!”

  Ida May’s elbow connected sharply with Hazel’s ribs. As her friend fidgeted and rubbed her ribs, Ida May smiled at Joe and said:

  “And the brother?”

  Joe’s eyes flickered. “Well, Gary’s brother – Frank – he was a wrong one through and through. He got sent down for fraud in the end, but there were a couple of robberies that we always suspected were done by him…”

  “So, Gary’s family has a history…”

  “That’s right,” Joe replied, nodding
confidently at me. “But don’t let that make you think any less of Gary. He was always the good one – he took care of his mother right up to the day she died. Even now he visits his sister’s grave every year on her birthday.”

  He smiled sweetly to each of us as we sat in silence, listening to the sound of the traffic moving down the street and the birds chirping in the trees overhead. Finally Joe slapped his thigh and turned back towards Hazel.

  “Well, that’s all I know. Now, how about that story…”

  Once again, I got in before Hazel had a chance to speak.

  “Yes, of course,” I replied, tugging his wrist until his head had turned back to face me. “We have the best story for you…”

  “Excellent,” Joe replied, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a notebook. “Do you mind?”

  “Not at all,” I replied, waiting until he was fully ready before speaking again: “Since we’ve been here, we have discovered some absolutely terrible and deplorable behavior taking place in this very town…”

  “You don’t say?”

  “Absolutely. So terrible – in fact – that it could very well lead to murder…”

  “This is wonderful,” Joe replied, scribbling away eagerly. “Go on…”

  “Well,” I replied, over-exaggerating as I looked up and down the street. “Apparently, there is a horrible newspaper owner who makes a habit of eavesdropping on people’s private conversations. And I am worried that if he continues to do so, Percy here will make use of a recently acquired musket to play target practice with him…”

  Joe’s face fell. He glanced up at Percy who stood firm, playing the part of the hired muscle well. Joe’s gaze returned to me, his eyes somehow wider and his face somewhat paler than before.

  “I…” he muttered. “I don’t understand…”

  I smiled at him and patted him on the thigh. “It doesn’t take a genius, Mr. Miller. You overheard us talking to Gary – you even heard Percy telling him to let the We’re Not Dead Yet Club look into it. You pretended that you knew who we were by talking about the recent grizzly business to cover the fact that you didn’t have the slightest clue who we are or why we are here…”