“Do what I said, please.”
“You must be kidding. I just told you there’s a dead man inside and you’re going to frisk me?”
“Ma’am, I’m going to ask you one more time.”
Callie tried to laugh, but it came out as more of a groan. She followed his directions, turning and placing her hands against the top of her car. At least the coolness of the car’s metal provided something solid for her to lean against. It didn’t stop her legs from shaking, but it brought back some sense of reality.
Would he check her for weapons? The thought was so ludicrous it made her want to laugh.
Instead he stayed where he was and spoke into his radio. “This is Gavin. I need backup at Main and Fourth. We have a possible deceased person.”
Someone cackled back with numbers that Callie couldn’t comprehend. The night had taken on a surreal quality.
They stood for what seemed like ten minutes as the silence of the evening once again surrounded them.
She thought he might ask her more questions, but he didn’t.
She hoped he might at least tell her she could sit down, but no.
Gavin was not a knight in shining armor. He wasn’t even a compassionate officer.
Well if there was one thing she’d learned in the last two years, it was to not expect compassion.
Her thoughts were spiraling toward despair when they were interrupted by the sound of a siren and a patrol car driving down Main. Instead of pulling in beside them, it created a sort of blockade behind her rental. Once parked, the officer turned off his siren, but kept his emergency lights on—sending a warning into the night.
Good thing she couldn’t get away—since she was so dangerous. She wanted to shout at them now. She wanted to throw a tantrum and holler, “Go check out the dead guy in the office!”
Then she heard footsteps, and a softer, older voice. “What do we have here, Gavin?”
“Followed up on a noise complaint. Found Miss Harper.”
Callie jumped at her name. She hadn’t given it to him, but then how many rental cars would there be in Shipshewana?
“She claims Stakehorn is dead inside the shop.”
The newer officer sighed heavily, his breathing blending with the sounds of the night. His voice was still calm, measured, but it took on something of an edge. “Is there a reason you’re treating Miss Harper like a suspect instead of a witness?”
“I was following procedures, sir.”
“You’re not in the military any longer, Gavin. We are a small town, and we adapt to the situation we’re presented with. In this case we seem to have one frightened young shop owner.” The voice drew closer, then the officer put a tentative hand on her shoulder.
Callie turned slowly around and looked into gentle brown eyes, framed with white eyebrows, and a face lined with wrinkles.
“Miss Harper, I’m Officer Taylor, senior officer of the Shipshewana Police Department. Why don’t you come over and have a seat in my cruiser. No doubt you’ve had quite a shock this evening.”
Unable to speak, nearly melting with relief, Callie nodded and followed him to the second police vehicle. Taylor opened the door to the back passenger seat, and she sat down, collapsed actually—her feet still dangling outside the car. No need growing too comfortable. Gavin might decide to shut the door and lock her inside.
Speaking of Gavin, she glanced up and saw that she was once again facing him. The man’s expression hadn’t changed. He remained completely unreadable.
Perhaps it was the shock or the old fatigue rising in her, but Callie had to fight an urge to stick her tongue out at him. Following procedures, indeed.
“Now, tell us exactly what you saw, Miss Harper.” Taylor stood gazing down at her, a sympathetic look on his face.
“I had called Stakehorn earlier. He told me to stop by. I was supposed to show him … something.” Callie realized suddenly that the DVD was still in her purse. She thought of mentioning it, but Gavin interrupted her.
“How did you even get inside?” He crossed his arms and raised his right eyebrow. So his face did have the ability to move. Interesting. “The front door is always locked after Caldwell leaves.”
“The front door was locked.” She’d been directing her comments to Taylor, but now she spoke to Gavin. He didn’t even blink. “I saw the light on in the back, and I tried to call, but there was no answer.”
She looked down at her hands, noticed they were still shaking and tucked them under her armpits, hugging her arms around herself. It felt like a childish pose, but comforting somehow. “I saw the delivery sign, directing people around the back.”
“You went down the side alley?” Gavin asked. “In the dark?”
“I’m from Houston, Officer Gavin. A dark alley in Shipshewana isn’t exactly frightening.” Callie remembered the rat she’d encountered on her trip down, and the screeching cat on her flight back, and nearly smiled at her own bluff.
“So what did you find at the back of the building?” Taylor pulled her back to the matter at hand.
“The back door was unlocked. I thought perhaps Stakehorn had forgotten about our meeting, so I walked inside. That’s when I found him.”
“And you’re sure he’s dead?” Taylor reached out, touched her shoulder.
Callie nodded. “Yes, I’m sure. He’s at his desk.”
Taylor stood straighter, hitched his service belt up over his protruding stomach. “I’ll stay with Miss Harper. You go check it out. If he is dead, we’ll need to call it in to county.”
“He’s dead all right, Officer Taylor.” Callie’s voice took on more strength. She didn’t like being treated like a dim wit. She knew a dead body when she saw one.
“I’m not doubting what you think you saw.” His tone wasn’t patronizing. “We don’t want to wake up Black if we don’t have to.”
Gavin strode off around the corner of the building, and Taylor stepped a few feet away from the patrol car, speaking into his radio.
Within five minutes, Gavin returned.
He reported to Taylor, glancing back over at Callie several times as he spoke.
The rest of the evening was a blur. Callie told her story again, this time in more detail.
The clock on her dash read twelve thirty by the time she climbed into the rental and drove back to Daisy’s Quilt Shop.
She didn’t remember she was once again without a cell phone until she’d looked up and saw the Gazette fading in her rearview mirror. Her morning would have to begin with another trip to see Mr. Cooper, since Gavin would insist that her cell phone was evidence. Not that anyone had determined there had been a crime. Apparently they were being “thorough”—their word. In Callie’s opinion, they needed more crime to amuse the Shipshewana police.
He watched the entire thing from the building across the street.
It hadn’t played out exactly like he’d hoped, but close enough. Close enough.
The important thing was that Stakehorn was dead, or at least that was the first step toward the most important thing. The next part would be easy now.
Probably Shipshewana’s finest would determine the old man died of natural causes. If not, if they were smart enough to figure it out—which he doubted—then they could pin it on the woman. She was the perfect suspect since she’d been seen arguing with him earlier in the evening.
Chapter 12
BY SIX THE NEXT MORNING, Deborah was in the kitchen preparing breakfast. She’d already been up over an hour—fixing lunches, laying out clothes, taking care of the baby who woke up crying with a wet diaper—then fell quickly back asleep.
She looked out the kitchen window and saw Jonas walking from the barn, carrying fresh eggs. Twice a week their neighbor Reuben brought some by, traded them for apples from their orchard in the fall.
“I’ll use them tomorrow,” she said, smiling at him as he banged through the back door. “Set them in the fridge for me, please. I hope you thanked Reuben for bringing them by.”
&n
bsp; Deborah set out a bowl of raisins and a jar of cinnamon sugar, then turned back to the gas-powered stove to stir the oatmeal.
“Eggs isn’t all he brought, Deb. He brought some big news too.”
Deborah gave him her full attention.
“Reuben and his cousin Tobias are both staying together at his grossdaddi’s old place.”
“Ya, I remember.”
“Well, Tobias works at the feed store across from the Gazette, and he came in talking about Stakehorn last night. Seems he died.”
“He what?” Deborah dropped the spoon she’d been stirring with into the pot of oatmeal.
Jonas handed her another to fish it out with.
“Dead? And he was sure?”
“Saw him carted off on a gurney with a sheet pulled up over his face.”
“But how? I don’t remember hearing he was ill.” Deborah removed the pan from the stove, divided the breakfast into portions, then scrubbed the pan vigorously as she checked over her shoulder to see if the twins had made it down the stairs yet. “Did Tobias know what he died of?”
“No. He only said Gavin and Taylor stayed out in front of the shop until three a.m. Then the county people showed up and removed the body.” Jonas poured himself a mug of kaffi and sat down at the table.
“The county people? Do you mean Shane Black?”
Jonas ran his thumb under his suspender, took a moment before answering her. “Ya. I think Tobias did say it was Black.”
“Of course Black had to be called. That’s standard procedure. He even checked on Daisy when I found her in the garden. I wonder if Callie knows Stakehorn is dead. She was supposed to meet with him.”
“According to Tobias, Callie was there. She sat out front quite a long time answering questions—first from Gavin and Taylor, then from Black.”
Deborah stopped drying the pan, set it carefully on the back of the stove, glanced at the twins as they clomped down the stairs. “I don’t understand.”
“That’s all Reuben knew. Tobias was working late to put up a new delivery of feed. He didn’t see her go in, but saw her rental car later when Gavin arrived.”
Deborah let go of the pan she’d been grasping. Wiping her hands on the dish towel, she helped the boys settle at the table.
“I wanted cinnamon toast, Mamm.” Joseph rubbed at the sleep in his eyes.
Jacob picked up his spoon and dug into his oatmeal.
Deborah kissed them both on top of the head, and smiled at Martha and Mary as they slid into their seats across the table. “I’d like to go and see her today.”
Jonas nodded, and then reached for the sugar in the middle of the table and sprinkled it on top of his own bowl of oatmeal. He added some of the raisins, winked at the boys, and added a handful to theirs.
Deborah sank into her chair. “Jonas, I called Callie from the phone shack last night. She was going over to show him the recording of our conversation.”
“I wouldn’t worry. A recording can’t kill someone.”
Martha’s eyes widened as she swallowed a spoonful of breakfast. “Who was killed?”
“No one was killed, darling. Mr. Stakehorn, the newspaper editor, died last night.”
“I don’t think I knew him,” Martha said, squirming in her chair.
“Will we be going by his house?” Jacob asked, always looking for an excuse to go to town.
“It’s doubtful. He was an Englisher, and they do things differently than the Amish.”
“We went to Miss Daisy’s funeral,” Martha reminded her.
“I remember. I liked the cookies,” Joseph piped up, finally looking awake. “Is it wrong to say you liked the cookies at someone’s funeral?”
“No, son. It’s never wrong to have a fond memory of someone.” Jonas took another drink of his kaffi. The family fell into silence as each person focused on their breakfast—and Deborah focused on her memories, of Daisy, Stakehorn, and finally all of her previous dealings with Shane Black. She was startled back to the present by the boys’ giggles as they played with extra raisins.
Jonas cleared his throat and said, “Speaking of remembering, I seem to remember two boys who have chores to do.”
Joseph and Jacob glanced at each other, stuffed in two more bites, then scooted out of their chairs in a hurry.
“I get Lightning’s stall,” Jacob declared.
“You had her last time.” Joseph hurried across the room to catch up with his brother.
“Both of you come back here.” Jonas’s voice plainly brokered no argument.
The boys froze in place, then turned and walked back to the table.
“Dishes.” Jonas nodded to the bowls and spoons they’d left at their seats.
“Yes, Daed.” Their voices sounded in unison. They picked up their breakfast dishes and set them in the sink, then looked toward the door. They didn’t move though, only glanced at each other trying to remember what else they might have forgotten.
“Thank your mother for a good breakfast. She works hard for you.”
“Danki, Mamm.” Again their voices came out in unison.
“Gern gschehne.” Deborah suddenly wished she could freeze the moment. Only yesterday they were Joshua’s age. Where had the years gone?
With a nod from Jonas, they grabbed their straw hats from the hooks by the door and headed off toward the barn.
“They’re gut boys,” Deborah said as she moved toward the sink and added hot water and soap.
Jonas kissed her on the cheek. “That they are.”
Martha went off to dress baby Joshua, and Mary joined her at the sink, though she had to stand on a stool to help dry the dishes as Deborah washed.
Deborah’s mind flashed back on the previous evening, how she’d stood in Mary’s place as Ruth had washed dishes. It brought her some peace to know that certain things stayed the same from one generation to the next.
But when she pulled the plug on the drain and watched the water swirl down, she couldn’t help wondering if more pain was in store for her friends—knowing, as Ruth had pointed out, she may not be able to stop it.
What would happen to the auctioning of their quilts now?
And what did the Lord have in store for Callie Harper?
Three hours later the boys were in the field with Jonas; Martha and Mary were at their Aenti’s helping with some early summer canning. Baby Joshua had been up, fed, played for two hours, and was down for his morning nap.
Melinda and Esther were once again seated across from her.
“We can’t just sit here and quilt,” Melinda reasoned.
“We can, but we shouldn’t.” Esther looked down at the half-finished friendship quilt in front of them. “We should do something.”
“Ya, I agree.” Deborah stood, walked over to the window. “I think maybe we should go into town. See if there’s something she needs. Should we wait until the children are up though?”
“They’ve slept in the buggy before.” Melinda stood and began folding the quilt. “I needed to go by the General Store anyway. We can accomplish two errands at once.”
In fifteen minutes they’d loaded up all three carriages.
Jonas had already pulled Cinnamon out, harnessed her up to the rig. “Thought you might want to leave early.”
She smiled down at him as he handed up baby Joshua.
“Boy is growing,” he added.
“Probably will look like his daed one day.” The bantering helped to ease some of her worry. Surely Callie was fine. She’d seemed so much better since reopening the shop, and though Mr. Stakehorn’s death was a shock—death was a part of life.
So why did she have this niggling feeling that their troubles were just beginning?
Callie stood at the counter, exhausted but awake thanks to three strong cups of coffee. Max lay near her feet, a green bandana tied around his neck, tail thumping—ever her faithful companion.
“I should have taken you with me last night,” she murmured. “I suppose I’ve learned my lesson
.”
He stood, pressed his cold nose into her hand, then turned in a circle twice and flopped flat on the floor.
Looking out the window, she was surprised to see three buggies pull up at once. She’d had two customers so far since opening, but it had been a somewhat slow morning for a market day.
Peering out the window, she hurried around the counter when she saw Deborah, then Melinda, and finally Esther exit their buggies. She’d only met Esther once, when she’d stopped by to bring cookies for the opening. Melinda had been by twice. And of course, it seemed as if she’d known Deborah for years. All the women had their babies with them.
“Looks like a hens’ meeting, Max. Hang on to your collar!” Her spirits lifted immediately though. She could use some feminine company, even if they weren’t aware of what had happened last night. The only question was whether she should tell them of her evening’s events.
Callie opened the front door and started down the walk, but she didn’t make it halfway before being engulfed in Melinda’s skinny arms. The smell of line-dried cotton overwhelmed her senses, even as she returned the hug. Melinda’s show of affections surprised her. Callie was southern born and bred, where hugs were commonplace, but she’d always heard Amish folk were a bit more standoffish. So far the people she’d met in Shipshewana were shattering stereotypes.
“You poor thing. To think that you were at the newspaper so late, and you still opened this shop. I just don’t see how you do it.” Baby Hannah squirmed and cooed as she was pressed between the two women.
Callie stepped back. Melinda adjusted her glasses, and Hannah waved a fist into the air before she let out a shout.
“Did we squish her?” Callie asked.
“Of course not. It’s time for her mid-morning feeding is all.”
“There are some comfortable chairs at the back of the shop.”
“Ya, Daisy used to hold a quilting circle back there.”
Melinda moved past her, into the shop, but she was quickly followed by Esther, holding Leah’s hand. Leah clutched a doll who was dressed in Amish clothing identical to her own—right down to the peach-colored dress and white prayer kapp.
“You must be exhausted,” Esther said. Her voice was calm and even, but her eyes betrayed her concern, that and her offering. “We brought food.”
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