Falling to Pieces

by Vannetta Chapman

  “You hadn’t seen your aunt in over fifteen years, then you suddenly come back because she died. You suddenly quit your job and moved here. Why?”

  “What’s that have to do with anything?”

  “Was Daisy Powell really your aunt? Would you be willing to submit to a lie detector test? Offer a DNA sample?”

  “You’re completely insane. Is this even about Stakehorn’s murder?”

  “Of course it is. Why did you put poison in his coffee?”

  Callie took a deep breath, tried to push away the absurd questions he’d just thrown at her. “What substance was in it? Maybe I can help you. Maybe I can help your investigation and together we can find who did this.”

  “I don’t need your help, sweetheart. I need your confession.” Black stood, both hands braced against the table, leaning toward her, the wolf-smile playing on his lips.

  “And I’m telling you I have nothing to confess.” Callie stood as well, though the top of her head didn’t reach his chin. She wasn’t about to take his accusations sitting down.

  She didn’t care about the one-way mirror, or the gun he was wearing, or the scowl on his face.

  This was absurd.

  She had not killed a man she barely knew.

  Shane Black bullying her wouldn’t change that fact.

  Adalyn walked in and found them that way.

  “My. Looks like I’m missing out on all the fun.” Adalyn didn’t bother with preliminaries, simply took her seat beside Callie and began pulling out a pad of paper, pen, and tape recorder from her bag.

  This time the Louis Vuitton was a summer white. The sight of it temporarily snapped Callie out of her battle with Black.

  Where did Adalyn purchase her handbags? They weren’t briefcases exactly. They were incredibly stylish. How did she afford them? Everything else about the woman screamed fiscal responsibility. The bags—they were a thing of beauty.

  She locked eyes with Adalyn, and the lawyer smiled, nearly winked.

  “Ladies? Hello? Did I lose you? Some sort of secret ESP going on? Because I have a murder investigation I’d like to wrap up if you two are finished grinning at one another.” For the first time since she’d known him, real irritation and bewilderment filled Black’s voice.

  Adalyn clicked the ON button so that the micro-recorder began whirling, and she gestured with her right hand. “By all means, Shane. Go right ahead and investigate.”

  “Tell me about your concealed handgun license, Miss Harper.”

  “Why, was he shot?”

  Adalyn laughed and wrote on her pad, “Good, girl.”

  “So you admit you have one,” Shane continued.

  “Of course I have one.”

  “Why?”

  “Why not?”

  Shane switched tactics. “How long have you had it?”

  “Since I was twenty-two.”

  “What type of weapon do you own?”

  “None of your business.”

  Adalyn placed a check by her earlier comment.

  “Don’t you find it unusual for a woman to have a concealed permit?”

  “Not where I come from, Officer Black. Does it intimidate you for a woman to be able to defend herself?”

  “Did you bring your weapon with you to Indiana?”

  “I did not.”

  “You can prove that?”

  “I flew. You can check with the airlines. They tend to be itchy about such things.”

  He continued in the same vein for another thirty minutes, ending with a warning that she remain in the Shipshewana area.

  “I own a shop here. Where would I go?”

  “Just wouldn’t want you to have any ideas about running home to Texas. I’d hate to have to come looking for you.”

  “Are you threatening me?”

  Adalyn reached out and put her hand on Callie’s arm. “Next time you need to speak with my client, call her or myself. Pick her up again, with no more than this, and I’ll file a harassment charge.”

  Black made an annoying sound, but Adalyn paused long enough to let him know she was serious.

  “It might not stick, Shane, but it will bury you in paperwork.”

  This time when they stepped out into the afternoon, storm clouds were building in the north.

  “I’ll give you a ride home. Wouldn’t want you to get caught in a downpour.”

  “Thanks. Couldn’t ask for much more than a lawyer who’s free and provides taxi service.”

  Callie filled Adalyn in on the first part of the interrogation until they’d rounded the corner on Main Street.

  “He’s still fishing, Callie, and he’s trying to intimidate you. I’ve known Shane Black since he was the star pitcher in LaGrange County. He could throw a fast ball better than anyone before or since, but the real secret in Shane’s game was the way he could stare a batter down.” She patted her on the arm as she pulled in front of Daisy’s Quilt Shop. “Look, Max is glad to see you.”

  “Thank you, Adalyn.”

  “You’re welcome, dear. If you come up with any ideas on the poison angle, email or call me. Otherwise let’s meet on Thursday for lunch and see if there have been any other developments.”

  Deborah watched Callie exit Adalyn’s car. She’d been gone less than an hour, but it seemed much longer.

  Deborah rushed out into the side yard, reached Callie at the same moment Max did. “How are you?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “He didn’t—”

  “What?”

  Deborah laughed. “I don’t know. I suppose I was afraid he might keep you there or something.”

  Callie sank onto the bench. “He has no evidence, just a lot of hunches—which are wrong.”

  Deborah rested a hand on her shoulder. “You stay here with Max. Catch your breath. I’ll go back and finish stocking for tomorrow.”

  “No, you need to get home. I’m sure baby Joshua is ready for his mamm.”

  Smiling, Deborah gave Max a firm pat on the head. “Joshua is fine. My schweschder stopped in earlier and said she’d left him with her oldest girl. He’d had his lunch and was napping. Take your time here. Rest.”

  Thirty minutes later, Callie was inside, explaining about the poison, about her job in Houston, and about how Black had connected the two.

  “Because you had the knowledge doesn’t mean you did it.”

  “Tell that to Black.”

  “He has to investigate every possibility. It’s his job.”

  Callie stopped refilling the thread display. “How exactly do you know so much about him?”

  Deborah didn’t answer, and Callie pushed harder. “It was a criminal matter, wasn’t it? But I thought the Amish don’t pursue matters in court.”

  “I can’t speak to you of this, Callie.” Deborah’s brown eyes looked directly into Callie’s dark ones as she spoke.

  She wanted to be honest, but she couldn’t give Callie the details about Esther she wanted. Just remembering those days brought tears to her eyes. She looked up at the ceiling, prayed for wisdom, then refocused on Callie.

  “It’s not my place to share what happened, and I won’t. But I can tell you he operates within the English law. He is quite persistent. He follows a thing through to the end, and won’t let it go until he’s sure he knows the answer. Whether that is a good thing or a bad thing is hard to know.”

  “So you’re warning me about him?” Callie sat back on her haunches.

  “I don’t know if warning is the correct word. I will pray that God leads Shane onto a different path, onto the path of the killer, because I know you didn’t do this.”

  “In my past, praying hasn’t been very effective,” Callie said softly. “It feels as if everything is falling to pieces. As if my life is one of those old quilts I found in Daisy’s closets—one I have no idea how to restore.”

  Deborah didn’t argue. She merely leaned forward, hugged her, and whispered, “We will pray diligently.”

  “Perhaps while we’re praying
we should start looking for the real killer ourselves.”

  Deborah began gathering up her things. “I can’t say that I know what a killer would look like,” she teased. “But I can certainly ask around about any suspicious-looking persons.”

  “And I’ll keep my ears open here in the store. I also think I’ll pay a visit to the new editor.”

  Deborah stopped with her hand on the door. “You’re not still worried about him printing a retraction, are you?”

  “Honestly, not so much.” Callie stepped closer as an English woman and child paused outside the store to study the window display. “But Deborah, if Stakehorn was murdered, and then someone broke into the shop, it could be that the new editor is in danger. We should at least warn him.”

  “I’m sure the police warned him.”

  “They probably warned him about me. I didn’t do it. He needs to know someone else is out there, and that they might be after him next.”

  “Ya. You might be right.”

  “Or maybe the new editor could find a clue in the print shop as to what actually happened.”

  “Callie, the police went all over the print shop looking for evidence.”

  “I know they did, but police can miss things that someone with an eye for the news will find.” She shrugged and pushed her friend out the door. “Go home to your bopplin”

  “You promise to be careful?”

  “Yes, of course. Kiss the baby for me.”

  It wasn’t until she was in her buggy and traveling out of town, that Deborah remembered about the bag Callie had left in The Kaffi Shop.

  Chapter 21

  DEBORAH DIDN’T go straight home.

  It wasn’t yet three, and her schweschder Miriam had said she didn’t need to pick up the children until five. If she hurried, she had enough time to stop and see Tobias and Reuben.

  If Jonas’s information was accurate, Tobias helped with the fields at their grossdaddi’s place during the day, caught a brief nap in the afternoon, then pulled the late night shift at the feed store most weeknights. She should be able to catch him before he left for town.

  Pulling up at the old farm house, she put her hand to her mouth to stifle a laugh. It looked as if the two men weren’t bothering to put much work into the old place. In fact, as she walked up the steps of the old farmhouse that were in sore need of repair, she began to wonder if she’d misunderstood Jonas. Peeking in the front window, she saw a few pieces of furniture, but they had old bed sheets covering them.

  Tobias and Reuben stayed here?

  Spinning in a circle she studied the fields.

  They looked well tended enough.

  Then her eyes landed on the barn.

  The windows near the door were clean. A clothesline peeped out from behind the back corner of the building, and she could just make out pants and a shirt flapping in the breeze.

  She glanced at the northern sky where the clouds were building. The clothes would get wet from the storm darkening the skies if they weren’t brought in soon.

  She made sure Cinnamon was settled, then hurried around the corner of the barn and began removing the clothing. Her arms were full and she was unfastening the last shirt when Tobias appeared from the back door of the barn.

  “Deborah? What? What are you doing out here?”

  Tobias was tall, easily six and a half feet, and skinny as a pole. He hurried to help her, one hand holding his straw hat on his head, the other taking the bulk of the clothes from her arms.

  He motioned her toward the door of the barn. When she stepped inside, she looked around in amazement.

  “You’re living here?”

  Reuben stepped through a doorway that was cut into a partition, separating the barn neatly into two halves. The complete opposite of his cousin, he was closer to Jonas’s height—maybe five foot eight—and solidly built.

  “Ya. Gut idea, right? We figured why keep both places clean, when we spend most of our times out here anyway.”

  Deborah closed her eyes, considered arguing with them, then realized their sisters had probably already given it a good try. Why bother? “Closer to your woodwork too.”

  “Exactly. Step through the door and I can work on an order or check on an animal.” Reuben and Tobias smiled at one another.

  “Want some kaffi or tea? We just finished eating an early dinner.” Tobias led her through the entry room into a bigger room, which apparently served as their sleeping area and sitting area both. Beds were pushed up to the north wall, and a stove, sink, and cupboard took up the southeast corner. A square wooden table separated the two.

  “Danki, but no. I need to head home before the rain starts.”

  “Ya, looks like it will be a gut storm.” Reuben looked at Tobias. He was the older of the two, the one who stayed on the farm full time. He’d also recently started a small woodworking business that was doing well.

  It was obvious that neither were used to having callers, so Deborah plunged right in. First she set her bag on the table and pulled out a chair. The men followed her lead.

  “I came by because I wanted to talk to you about the Gazette.”

  Both men nodded. Reuben pulled on his suspenders. Tobias drummed on the table. Neither offered any information.

  “About Mr. Stakehorn?” Deborah prodded.

  “Ya, that was a terrible thing.” Reuben looked to Tobias, and the younger man nodded in agreement.

  “I know it was a terrible thing. What I’d like to know is what you saw, specifically.”

  “Well, I didn’t see anything.” Frowning into his kaffi grounds, Reuben shook his head slowly. “Nope. Haven’t been into town at all this month. Been through town, when we had church meeting, but I haven’t stopped in town at all.”

  “Reuben isn’t one to go into town much. Mostly I’m the one who picks up supplies,” Tobias explained.

  Deborah sighed, closed her eyes again, and prayed for patience. These two had lived alone so long, they’d forgotten the art of conversation. Either that or they were being purposely slow.

  Her eyes popped open.

  She studied them a moment, like she would two quilt pieces that didn’t want to fit together. Reuben shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. Tobias shot a glance at his cousin, but Reuben refused to meet the look. Did he put his hand up to stave off any question or comment the younger man might make? Or maybe he was reaching for his napkin. She could be imagining things at this point.

  “My mistake. I thought you two might know something about the paper. My friend is having a bit of a problem, and I was hoping you could clear up some misunderstanding.”

  “Would be happy to help if we could,” Reuben muttered.

  “Sure we would,” Tobias agreed.

  “But we can’t,” Reuben added, a bit quickly.

  “Well, I suppose I should be going then.” Deborah stood as if she was about to leave, then paused as she looked out at her horse. “Say, Reuben, I noticed that Cinnamon seemed to be limping a bit on her right front hoof. I wonder if you’d mind checking it before I start home.”

  She didn’t squirm at all over the lie, since it was only a half-truth. Jonas had promised to check the hoof after dinner. It would be a neighborly thing for Reuben to do it for him.

  “I’d be happy to, Deborah.” He visibly relaxed that the questioning was over. Grabbing his hat off the hook on the wall, he hurried out of the room, like a boy let out for recess.

  Tobias squirmed in his seat. “Sure I can’t get you something to drink?”

  “Maybe kaffi would be good. If you have some left.”

  “Sure do.” He jumped up, began fiddling with the pot on the stove, pulling a cup out of the cabinet and finding sugar.

  “So, Tobias, how do you like your job at the feed store?”

  “I like it all right. Gets me off the farm a little. Don’t take me wrong. I like working in the fields, but a guy likes to spend time in town as well.”

  “Sure. I know what you mean. I go in town fairly often m
yself.”

  “You?” Tobias looked up in surprise as he poured the boiling kaffi into a chipped cup. “I thought you loved being on the farm with Jonas.”

  “Oh, I do. But I quilt you know.”

  “I remember now. Mamm and my schweschders brag about your quilting.”

  Deborah smiled at the compliment. “It’s why I go into town so often. Callie Harper, she’s the friend I spoke of earlier. She’s also the new owner of Daisy’s Quilt Shop.”

  Tobias brought the cup over to her along with the sugar and some cream. He didn’t refill his own cup, but sat down and began to twirl the spoon he had been using. “I suppose she’s had a hard time, what with Stakehorn and all.”

  “Ya. It was quite a shock for her to find him.”

  Staring at the table, Tobias muttered, “Would be for anyone.”

  “You were there that night?”

  “Reuben said it would be better not to talk about it to anyone, Deborah.”

  “Did he say anyone, or the English?”

  Tobias ran his hand over the back of his neck. “Suppose he meant the English, or more specifically, Black.”

  “Black was here?”

  “Ya. Here and the feed store.”

  “He talked to you?”

  “Not just me.” Tobias looked up quickly. “He talked to all the guys.”

  “Sure. But you didn’t have much to tell him, right? I mean it’s not like you were staring out the window when it happened.”

  “That’s what I told him. I had stepped outside to crush some boxes, so I was the one who saw her running down the alley. Stopped to watch and make sure she was okay. Of course I wasn’t the only one to hear the lady’s car alarm go off. Then I saw her fussing with the keys, jump in, and sit there a while.”

  Deborah thought about his explanation.

  It matched up with what Callie had said.

  “I didn’t lie to him, Deborah. You know I wouldn’t do that.”

  “Of course you wouldn’t.”

  “Black seemed to think we were all holding back. It made him angry, but he had no evidence to pull any of us in. Everyone had what the English call an alibi. Remember, we were all at work. But as far as involving ourselves in their investigation, we’d rather stay separate. Reuben is right. It’s not our place. You know how it is between the Amish and the police. We’ll help them if there’s a need, but no one at the feed store saw any need. Stakehorn’s dead, and nothing we can say will change that fact. It goes against our ways to become involved.”