A Plain Malice: An Appleseed Creek Mystery (Appleseed Creek Mystery Series Book 4)

by Amanda Flower

  The young officer thanked him. Timothy leaned against an oak tree a few feet away. He wouldn’t miss a thing.

  Officer Nottingham removed a tiny notebook from the breast pocket off his uniform.

  The chief sat back down in her seat. “What can you tell us about Dudley’s gambling racket?”

  Earl chewed on his mustache. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Really? Because the five hundred dollars you gave Ruby Masters tells me otherwise. Why’d you give her that money?”

  “You have it.”

  “Yes, I have it. It was with her things.”

  He removed his pipe from his pocket but didn’t light it. “Can I have it back?”

  The chief shook her head. “Sorry, no.”

  “But it’s mine.” He flipped the pipe over in hand. “I gave it to Ruby for safe keeping to protect me.”

  “Protect you. What about Ruby? She’s the one who is dead.”

  He paled. “You don’t think I had something to do with that. I didn’t. I owed Ruby. I would never want to hurt her. She stopped me from making a mistake.”

  “What kind of mistake?” I asked.

  “I have a gambling problem.” He shifted in the hard seat. “I told you I’m a widower. That’s not true. The truth is my wife left me after I lost our life savings.” He squeezed the pipe in his hand. “Including all the money we had saved for our son’s college education on gambling debts. At the time, I was angry, but I don’t blame my ex now.”

  “After that, you got treatment?” I leaned forward.

  He shook his head. “Not right away. No. It wasn’t for another twenty years. Finally, I built up the courage to do it.” He examined his pipe. “By that time, it was too late to save my relationship with my wife or with my son.”

  I thought of my severed relationship with my father. That had been destroyed by my mother’s death. We were finally piecing it back together. “It’s never too late.”

  “Are we done? I’m going to miss dinner for this,” Earl muttered.

  “I’m sure Jane or her daughter will make you up a plate later,” I said.

  “Unless you’re in jail,” Officer Nottingham said out of the side of his mouth.

  Earl’s eyes seemed to roll back into his head for a moment.

  Chief Rose grunted. “Okay. So you are addicted to gambling. Sorry to hear that. Where does Dudley come into this story?”

  “I’m in recovery, but it’s a struggle every day. I joined Gamblers Anonymous. My mentor convinced me this trip to Amish Country would do me good because I wouldn’t be tempted to gamble. He was wrong. He didn’t know Dudley would be on the bus.” His mustache drooped. “The moment I arrived it was as if Dudley knew about my condition. At our first dinner in Lancaster County, Dudley asked me how much I was putting on the College World Series. I broke out into a cold sweat right there. All the next day, he talked about the bets he’d make if he were a betting man. By the second night, he told me he could place bets for me and he only needed a couple hundred bucks. He guaranteed he could turn that into five figures or better.”

  Officer Nottingham twirled his pencil between two fingers. “You placed a bet.”

  His mustache fluffed out in walrus mode again. “No, but I almost did. The night before we left Lancaster County, I sat on the hotel patio. That’s where Ruby found me. She found me at a weak moment, and I ended up telling her my whole story. There was no one else around, and I had to tell someone.”

  “You gave her the money,” Chief Rose said as if she wanted to hurry the story along.

  “Yes, but I didn’t ask her. She offered. She said, ‘Let me take your burden. It’s what I do best.’ So I gave her the money, and she promised to give it back to me when we arrived back home in Tupelo. That five hundred was all the cash I brought with me on the trip as spending money. I don’t trust credit cards.” He looked the chief square in the eye. “But I’m telling you I had nothing to do with Ruby’s death.”

  “Dudley’s a different story though, isn’t he? You haven’t shed any tears over his death, have you? Maybe you bumped him off because he was about to drive you back into the gambling abyss, and Ruby was an unfortunate accident.”

  “No, that’s not what happened.” He pointed at Timothy. “It was his father who killed them. He was a crazed Amish man.”

  Timothy balled his fists at his side, but he didn’t come any closer.

  Earl cowered. He wasn’t in any danger from Timothy, but Earl didn’t know that.

  Officer Nottingham tapped his pencil on the notepad. “Do you have any houseplants, Mr. Kepler?”

  “Houseplants?”

  “Just answer the question,” Chief Rose said.

  “I have a spider plant my sister gave me to make my apartment homier, but it died.”

  Officer Nottingham drew a circle on his notepad. “Do you garden?”

  “I just said I live in an apartment. Of course, I don’t garden. Crazy Yankee cop,” he muttered under his breath.

  Officer Nottingham simply shook his head at the chief, and she nodded.

  “You’re free to go to dinner, Mr. Kepler,” the chief said.

  “That’s it?” He looked back and forth between the two officers. “You have nothing else to ask me?”

  “If you want to hang out at the station with me, we can talk all day.” She slipped her aviator sunglasses out of the breast pocket of her uniform and unfolded the arms.

  He bit his mustache. “No—no, that’s fine. What about my money?”

  “Your money is evidence. When I am able, I will mail it back to you. You won’t get it before you leave Ohio though.”

  He nodded. “Maybe it’s for the best. I may have used it wrongly in the end.” Slowly he stood, and there was a cracking sound.

  I glanced at Officer Nottingham half-expecting to see he snapped his pencil in two.

  “Are you all right?” Timothy asked. Sympathy replaced anger on his face.

  “It’s just my bum knee. You will understand when you’re older.” He limped in the direction of the inn.

  I jumped up from my white chair. “Earl, wait! You said before Hudson knew about Dudley’s side business.”

  “I expected he did. He was there many times when Earl tried to talk me into placing a bet, and he wanted to know everything I knew about it after Dudley died. That’s what we argued about behind the inn.”

  “Did he work with Dudley?” I asked.

  “I don’t think so, but Dudley must have given him something to keep him quiet. A man like that doesn’t do anything for free.”

  After Earl hobbled halfway to the inn, the chief braced her hands on her knees and stood. “He didn’t do it. He wanted the money back, but it was still with Ruby’s things. That would have been the motive for her murder. Even though he has a tentative motive for Dudley’s offing. He doesn’t know a lick about plants.” She shook his head. “He’s not the guy.”

  “What about Hudson? He must play a part in this gambling thing,” Timothy said.

  “Probably,” the chief said. “Nottingham and I will talk to him before we go.”

  “Do you want me there?”

  She shook her head. “No, you still have to work with him on the tour tomorrow. He might think even less of you if you interrogate him tonight.”

  I bit my lip. I wanted to hear what Hudson had to say and badly, but the chief had a valid point. “I doubt he would dislike me anymore than he does already. We aren’t exactly best buds.”

  “All right, you can come.” She slipped her sunglasses over her eyes. “But it’s hard for me to believe you and Hudson don’t get along. I thought you made friends with everyone.”

  Yeah right. Deacon Sutter and Brock Buckley beg to differ.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Hudson sat alone at a round table in the dining room. The tourists gathered around the three other tables. Becky held court at the center table. This time she told the story of her brother Thomas letting the sheep
loose at the schoolhouse’s Christmas pageant last year. Earl sat at a table with Jimbo and Bobbi Jo. He had his head down and concentrated on his food.

  The room fell silent when Chief Rose and Officer Nottingham followed me into the room.

  Officer Nottingham approached the bus driver’s table. “Mr. Dugan, we would like to speak with you in the lobby.”

  Hudson cut into his roast beef. “What about?”

  “We would prefer to discuss that in private.”

  Earl shoved a spoonful of mashed potatoes into his mouth, and a bead of sweat rolled down the side of his face.

  Hudson lifted his head from head plate and his eyes trained on Earl. More mashed potatoes went in Earl’s mouth. His cheeks were so full, he resembled a chipmunk.

  “Fine.” Hudson dropped his fork onto the table. It spun across the smooth surface and fell to the floor. He didn’t bother to pick it up as he followed the two officers from the room. Before I left, I quietly set the fork on the edge of the table as Ivy cleared away his dishes.

  In the lobby, Hudson glared at me from the couch. “What is she doing here?”

  Chief Rose stood in front of the river stone fireplace. “Chloe spoke to Earl earlier, so I thought it would be helpful if she sits in while we talk.”

  “Whatever,” the bus driver muttered.

  I glanced at the registration desk. Jane wasn’t there as she helped Ivy in the kitchen with dinner. However, Cheetos lay across the counter and blinked at me.

  “What do you know about Dudley’s side business?” the chief asked.

  “You mean Dudley’s gambling?” Hudson said. “If you spoke to Earl, that’s what this must be about.”

  Chief Rose held onto the mantle. “Yes.”

  “He was a bookie, so what? It didn’t make any difference to me. I didn’t have anything to do with it.”

  Officer Nottingham had his notepad out again. “You never reported him?”

  “Not my job. I just drive the bus.”

  “How long had Dudley had this side business?” the chief asked.

  Hudson scrapped at his front teeth with pinkie nail. “Just the last year or so. He was tired of being on the road. Can’t say I blame him.”

  “He planned to leave Blue Suede Tours?”

  Hudson nodded. “He thought this would be his last tour.”

  His last tour? It certainly was that.

  I spoke for the first time. “When he said this would be his last tour, what did he mean?”

  Chief Rose shot me an irritate glance. I’d forgotten I was there strictly as an observer.

  “He was going to take his money and run,” Hudson said.

  “And he didn’t plan to share it with you even though you had kept his secret?” I asked.

  Hudson was up and off the couch. An inch from my face, he said, “You think I killed Dudley and that old lady?”

  I stepped back and ran into Timothy. I hadn’t even known he was in the room.

  “Because I didn’t.” He threw up his arms. “If you have to know, Dudley would give me a tip every now and again for keeping my mouth shut. Why would I kill my source of easy money?”

  Chief Rose dropped her hand to her side. “Because the easy money would dry up if Dudley left the tour bus for good. Maybe you tried to talk him into changing his mind, and he refused.”

  Hudson grunted. “I would have just shot him. Sure, I wasn’t happy that Dudley was leaving because of the money, but I wasn’t broken hearted over it either. He wasn’t the easiest guy in the world to get along with. I hoped the tour company would put me with some young buck, who I could boss around. I’m the driver. I should be the one in control.”

  Officer Nottingham scribbled more notes.

  “It’s good news for you we didn’t find Dudley with a bullet hole in his head then,” Chief Rose said dryly.

  “I guess so,” Hudson said. “Was that all, officer?” he asked.

  “For now,” the chief replied.

  Hudson stomped up the stairs to the second floor, and Officer Nottingham and Chief Rose left shortly afterward.

  I petted Cheetos and felt homesick for Gigabyte. “Another suspect off the list,” I said with a frown.

  Timothy pulled me into a hug.

  I bent my neck back so I could see his face. “What’s that for?”

  A slow smile crossed his face. “I can’t hug you whenever you want?”

  “You can.”

  He looked worried. “Chloe, I know this case is taking all of our time, but I need to tell you—”

  “Chloe!” Becky cried as she bounded into the lobby.

  Timothy groaned. I patted his chest and pulled away from him

  “Chloe, can you give me a lift home? After you and the cops took Hudson away, dinner broke up.”

  I turned to Timothy.

  “You might as well take her. I still haven’t finished those odd jobs for Jane yet. I really want to get them done tonight.”

  “Let me grab my purse,” I said.

  Ten minutes later, I turned the Beetle onto state route in front of the inn. “Have you—”

  Becky slumped in her seat. “If you ask me one more time about those college applications, I will scream.”

  “Okay, I promise to drop the college apps, but honestly, I wasn’t asking about that.”

  “Then what?” she asked.

  “Do you still want to talk to your parents?”

  She covered her face with her elbow. “That’s worse.”

  “You need to talk to them. The silence between you can’t go on.”

  “They didn’t even acknowledge me on my birthday,” Becky said.

  “And you refused to see them on Easter,” I reminded her gently. “I’m not saying how they have treated you is right, but you may have to be the person who reaches out. There’s no shame in that.”

  “But I didn’t do anything wrong,” her voice pitched up an octave in a whine. “All I did was cut my hair. What is the big deal? I already left the community. Why did they freak out so much over the hair?”

  “It’s the finality of the haircut.” I paused at a four-way stop. “You know that.”

  She folded her arm and stared out the window. “They’re the parents. I’m the child. Aren’t the supposed to come to me?”

  I understood how she felt. For over a decade, I thought the same way about my relationship with my father. If he loved me, he would reach out to me. If I mattered to him, he would make an effort. He never did. It wasn’t until I saw the coldness of an Amish shunning that I knew the act of isolation hurt the shunner as much as the shunned. “I don’t want you to have the same relationship with your parents that I had with my father.”

  “My situation is different. Daed will be angry.” Her voice cracked. “Mamm will cry.”

  “Silence is worse,” I said, speaking from experience. “Silence and indifference are so much worse.”

  She dropped her gaze to her hands. “I’m afraid they’ll say they don’t want to see me anymore. I’m afraid to hear that to my face.”

  “They won’t. Look at how much you’ve gone through together.” I gripped the steering wheel. “If they were going to shun you, they would have last summer when you were in the car accident, but they didn’t. When everyone else in the district told them to avoid you, they didn’t.”

  A tear fell on her folded hands. “You’re right.”

  I patted her leg.

  She placed her hands on the dashboard and leaned forward. “Can we go now?”

  I made a right turn. “Now? What if they’re busy?”

  “They’re not. I lived in that house for nineteen years, and I can tell you exactly what’s happening there on a Sunday evening. Dinner is over, and they are all in the living room. Daed’s reading to them from The Budget or they are playing a game led by Grossdaddi.” Her voice caught as she remembered what she was missing, what she gave up for her independence.

  “Okay, we’ll go now.” I pulled into a parking lot, so that I c
ould turn around and head to the farm.

  She leaned over and hugged my right arm.

  I clung to the steering wheel. “Careful. I’m driving.”

  “Oh, right.” She let me go but grinned from ear to ear.

  I hoped she’d be able to retain her smile when we reached the farm.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  On an Amish farm, the sound of a car engine is unique enough to attract attention right away. Even before the Beetle was all way up the driveway, the front screen door of the Troyers’ two story white farmhouse flew open. Thomas and, to my surprise, Ruth hurried down the front steps.

  I parked the car. Becky didn’t move. I balanced my car keys in my hand. “They are waiting for you.”

  Becky gave me a wobbly smile. Her smile reminded me so much of the teenager I met on the side of the road eight months ago. There was an anxious resolve in her face. She unbuckled her seatbelt and slid out of the car. When Ruth saw her sister, she burst into tears and ran to Becky. She slammed her thin body into her older sister and wrapped her arms around Becky like rope.

  Into Becky’s shoulder Ruth cried and mumbled in their language. Becky shushed her and whispered back to her in Pennsylvania Dutch. As she bent forward to comfort her sister, her cut blond hair fell over her face like a silken curtain.

  My knuckles ached from holding the steering wheel so tightly. One by one, I pried my fingers free of the molded plastic. However, I didn’t leave the car. I didn’t want to interrupt the moment between sisters. I lowered my car windows so that I could hear even though I didn’t understand the words they said.

  Mr. Troyer stood in the doorway of the house. He didn’t move. Grandfather Zook appeared and poked his son-in-law in the back. Mr. Troyer shot an annoyed look at his father-in-law but proceeded down the steps onto the yard. Mr. Troyer’s glance shifted over to me sitting in the front seat of my car. “Becky,” Mr. Troyer said. “Your mamm and I want to talk to you. Alone.” He went back into the house.

  Becky pried herself away from her sister’s arms, whispering to Ruth in their language as she freed herself. Ruth let go and scrubbed at her face with the back of hand. Becky glanced back at me.