Falling to Pieces

by Vannetta Chapman

  “I wasn’t sure. I was chasing it down. I suspected though, that the poison in the coffee was a diversionary tactic. I didn’t know by whom, and I didn’t know what side you were on. You claimed to be Daisy’s niece, but no one here remembered meeting you before. I had a bit of background investigation to do before I could be sure, to tell you the truth.”

  Now Callie’s temper overrode the debt she owed him. Deborah must have sensed it, because she ran her hand down Callie’s arm, whispered “Peace” in her ear.

  “This morning, with his Chicago lawyer present, Stone admitted to part of what happened.” Everyone at the table sat up a little straighter.

  “The evening Stakehorn died, Stone was there. He confronted him about a missing package—a package he claims had sentimental value but to his knowledge did not contain any illegal substances. Stone confronted him in the office, the night you found him, Callie.” Shane accepted the cup of coffee the waitress offered, then continued. “Stakehorn denied ever having possession of it, but Stone claims he saw the editor pick it up at the flea market and walk away with it.”

  “You don’t believe that do you? The part about Stone not knowing there were drugs in it?”

  “Doesn’t matter what I believe. All that matters in a court of law are the facts and the evidence. Some of those facts have been corroborated by video recordings, now that we know what to look for. Stone claimed he followed Stakehorn from the market, followed him down the alley behind your shop, Callie. We pulled video surveillance tapes from local business on the night in question. Some had been erased, but Pots and Pans had installed a new security system. It shows Stakehorn stopping outside the back of their shop and peering into a shopping bag. He apparently didn’t know what he had, but if he’d turned it in at that point, he might still be alive today.”

  The group at the table grew quiet, trying to soak in all of the information.

  “There’s more.” Shane pushed away the coffee cup, cleared his throat as if he was uncomfortable with what he was about to say. “We can’t be sure, and our techs are still working on it, but it looks as if your aunt saw both Stakehorn and Stone creeping down the alley. She appears in a corner of the frame. It’s hard to see, and she’s across the alley, just peeking out from the foliage in her garden. It was the night she died, Callie.”

  Deborah reached over and clasped her hand, as Callie processed Shane’s words. Aunt Daisy had died in the garden, after seeing Stakehorn running from Stone?

  “It must have been quite a shock for her,” Deborah murmured.

  “So how did Stakehorn die, Shane?” Adalyn cocked her head, curious now by the look on her face.

  “Heart attack—we knew that, and Stone confirmed it. He pressured him to give up the location of the package. When Stakehorn didn’t, Stone became more persuasive, and Stakehorn’s ticker gave out.”

  “Pressured him how?” Trent asked.

  “I can’t go into details.”

  “So where is the package?” Trent had resumed tapping his notes against the table.

  “Not at liberty to say.” Shane grinned now. “I can say that our K—9 unit is ninety-nine percent successful. The dogs did their job well and are already on their way back home.”

  “And Stakehorn’s money?” Deborah asked. “The money his son was sure he was hiding?”

  Adalyn set her fork across her plate. “People who don’t trust lawyers or banks tend to hide things.”

  “Right,” Shane confirmed. “He hid his stocks in the same place he hid the package he’d stumbled upon. Those stocks—and they totaled a large sum of money—automatically go to his only heir.”

  “So Roger Stakehorn just walks with a stash of money?” Trent asked. “He broke into Callie’s store and he terrorized Deborah on the road, and he walks away with the prize?” Trent asked.

  “I’m not pressing charges. I want him out of town.” Callie couldn’t let one thing go though. Shane Black had harassed her for weeks. “Why did you continue questioning me?”

  Shane again turned in the booth, though there was barely enough room. He looked her directly in the eyes, one arm across the back of the booth, one on the table. “Someone put poison in his coffee. Given your background, you were a suspect—at first. I also had to verify that you were, in fact, Daisy’s niece.”

  “How could I not be her niece?”

  “People impersonate other people all the time, Callie. They read the obits and show up with false identification.”

  “That’s awful,” Deborah murmured.

  “The Chicago Trib did a story on that very thing last year. Reporter won a big award.” Trent sounded wistful.

  “So sorry I couldn’t help you out with that,” Callie snapped. She turned back to Shane. “You really thought I was impersonating … myself! How ridiculous.”

  “It’s not ridiculous,” Adalyn admitted. “Actually that’s part of what makes Shane a good detective. He leaves no suspect unscrutinized.”

  “Once I’d confirmed your identity, I sent an investigator from Fort Wayne to interview some of your Texas friends.”

  “You what?”

  “Relax, sweetheart. They all gave you glowing recommendations. Even your ex-employer. Apparently they were still recovering from losing their best sales rep. By the way, you still have a job waiting for you in Houston if you want it.”

  All eyes turned to Callie, but she only shook her head, still shocked at the latest revelations. She had friends in Texas? Why had she felt so alone then?

  “Though I was convinced of your innocence when Max was shot. That’s why I stopped by and saw you at the shop.”

  “And told me poison doesn’t always kill—”

  “It was the most I could say at the time. Meanwhile I continued interviewing other suspects here, which we had plenty of. As you know, Stakehorn had his share of enemies.”

  “What was the purpose of the poison?” Deborah asked.

  “My best guess is that Gordon did it so that we’d spend our time looking for the murderer while he spent his time looking for the package.”

  “Still doesn’t make sense to me. Dennis Stakehorn was an old man. A heart attack would have been natural at his age.”

  “He’d had a physical two weeks before, been given a clean bill of health, with one caveat—a weak heart. The doctor advised no drama, no big scares, no huge stories. The doctor even suggested he retire.”

  “How could this man, Gordon, know that?” Callie worried the hair which now reached well past the collar of her shirt.

  “We found evidence on Gordon’s phone that he’d broken into Stakehorn’s home first. While he was there he read the doctor’s report, looked for the stash of drugs, but didn’t find it, then moved on to the office.”

  “This was in his texts?” Callie asked.

  “Exactly.”

  “My head is beginning to ache,” Deborah murmured.

  “The autopsy would have revealed the heart attack eventually, but in the meantime we spent our resources looking at the poison. It’s a pretty common tactic among the Chicago mob, divert the investigation with another investigation. Can’t hurt and it might buy them enough time to find what they need and get out of town.”

  “Why did they pick our town, Shane?” Deborah had been quietly absorbing all the news, snuggling Joshua in her lap. Now she caressed the top of his head. “Why Shipshewana instead of a big place like Chicago or Indianapolis?”

  “Pressure is on due to the crack-down on drug operations. They’re looking for smaller towns to ship through. Shipshewana was the perfect location. We have a small police force to handle such things, but swell to a large crowd during market days. This operation was a test to see how it would work.”

  “They won’t try again, will they?” Callie forgot her anger, forgot everything except the families she’d grown close to—Deborah and Melinda and Esther. It was one thing to accept that drug usage and distribution was a common occurrence in a city like Houston, but it wasn’t supposed
to happen in Shipshewana.

  “I doubt it. They know we’ll be watching now.” Shane stood, straightened his light summer jacket, and adjusted his belt, which she now knew held his pistol. Well, of course it did. He was an officer. And wasn’t she glad about that?

  He had saved her life.

  The words echoed through her mind a dozen times a day.

  “Ladies, Trent.” Shane turned and walked out of the diner.

  “Guess he’ll stop bothering you now, Callie.” Adalyn picked her red leather bag up off the seat between her and Trent. “Bill’s on me this time.”

  “Thank you, ma’am. I’m not fired, but I didn’t receive a raise either.” Trent rolled up his notes and grinned. “No promotion—yet.”

  “So you think Roger Stakehorn is innocent in all this?” Callie asked as they walked outside.

  “He didn’t kill his father. That’s what I’ll print in tomorrow’s paper.” Trent looked off toward the Gazette, then pulled her aside and lowered his voice. “Want to go out to dinner sometime?”

  When Callie only looked at him in surprise, he added, “I owe you. I’m going to get at least a week’s worth of copy from this story, and they’re picking some of it up for the big papers in Indianapolis and Fort Wayne. Dinner’s the least I could do.”

  Callie thought to resist, considered pulling back like she would have in Houston. Her mind jumped to an image of Gavin and then—inexplicably to Shane Black, though she couldn’t imagine why. She realized in that split second that she still missed Rick, but she knew he would want her to move on with her life. Was that what Deborah meant by accepting Gotte’s wille?

  Truth was she couldn’t think of a reason not to go out to dinner with Trent. Truth was she rather enjoyed time spent with him, and he had saved Max. She wouldn’t be forgetting that anytime soon. “Sure, Trent. Give me a call and we’ll work something out.”

  Trent waved and walked off down Main Street.

  It was only then that Callie noticed he hadn’t driven the bike or the truck. Maybe the Amish ways were rubbing off on him as well.

  “Gals, stay in touch.” Adalyn said. “I’m going to miss our little meetings.”

  “We can get together, even if it doesn’t involve a murder,” Deborah pointed out.

  “True.” Adalyn rubbed Joshua’s back, then reached down and gave Max a pat. “My experience is I usually don’t see a client unless they have problems though.”

  Deborah shook her head, causing the strings of her kapp to bounce in the summer sunshine. “We’re not clients, Adalyn. We’re freinden.”

  Adalyn didn’t respond. She did squeeze both of their hands, then climb into her little Prius, and drove off in the direction of her office.

  “Would you like me to go and get my car?” Callie asked.

  “Can Max walk that far?”

  “Doc England said a short walk every day was good for him. What about you? We didn’t know you’d be carrying a sleeping baby when we walked down here.”

  “I’m used to carrying him. It’s not a problem. When you work on a farm, your arms grow used to bearing quite a bit of weight.”

  Callie thought on that as they walked side by side down Main. Was Deborah talking about carrying physical things or was she trying to convey a spiritual lesson again?

  She was learning that with Deborah one could never be sure.

  A few of the shop owners called out a greeting as they walked toward Daisy’s Quilt Shop.

  She realized suddenly that she had friends here—casual friends, like the shop owners and real friends, like Deborah and Adalyn. She was closer to those two women than she was to anyone in Houston, over a thousand of miles to the south.

  It was good to hear that she’d left things in Houston in a better state than she remembered—it helped to ease some of the bitterness. She had changed since coming to Shipshe, and now she couldn’t imagine herself moving back. She couldn’t claim to fully understand the Amish lifestyle, hadn’t completely acclimated to small-town life, but she knew a trade-up when she experienced one—and Shipshewana, Indiana, was without a doubt a trade-up for her.

  “I’m relieved Margie is home,” Callie said.

  “The Lord was looking after her,” Deborah agreed. “How’s it working out having Lydia watch the store when you’re out?”

  “Wonderful. I would never have thought a seventeen-year-old girl could be so responsible, but she’s not your ordinary teenager.”

  “I don’t know, Callie. Amish teens are responsible. They’re eager to work, and Lydia has always loved quilting, but she is a normal teen in other ways. Have you seen her giggle and blush when Phillip walks by or caught her daydreaming when the sun is about to set?”

  Callie laughed. “I might have noticed those things once or twice.”

  “She’s a gut girl. I’m just saying, don’t expect her to be perfect because she’s Amish.”

  Callie nodded and tucked her hair behind her ears as they approached the parking lot.

  “I expected Gavin to appear at our meeting earlier.” Deborah smiled, looked out from her kapp in a suggestive way that Callie couldn’t resist laughing over. “Tell me he hasn’t taken a personal interest in protecting you.”

  “Actually he called earlier this morning. He’s on traffic duty today and couldn’t make it, but he made me promise I’d tell him everything this evening.”

  “This evening?”

  “We’re going to dinner, but it’s dutch.”

  “Dutch?” “Ya.”

  “German?”

  “No, Deborah. Dutch means we each pay our own way.” “Why would you want to do that? If Gavin wants to take you to dinner and asks you out, why not let him pay your way?”

  “I’m not quite ready to call it that kind of a date,” Callie admitted.

  Deborah’s heart jumped at the sight of Jonas waiting by their buggy, whittling a piece of wood into some shape she couldn’t recognize. It was funny how after twelve years of marriage and five children, she still felt flushed when he smiled at her.

  He took the sleeping Joshua from her arms and laid him across the back seat of the buggy.

  “We’ve no church this Sunday, so we’ll meet at Melinda’s for supper and games. Will you join us again? Doc Bernie will be there.” Deborah snagged Callie’s hand and waited for a reply. “He told me he wants to thank you for something. Will you join us?”

  “I will,” Callie promised.

  “Want to tell me what Doc Bernie was talking about?”

  “Not really.”

  “It wouldn’t have anything to do with an anonymous donation he received; would it? One that was specifically marked for Aaron?” When Callie only shrugged, she hugged her and whispered, “They’re picking up his new wheelchair today. Melinda is thrilled. It will be very helpful for when he returns to school.”

  “Wunderbaar,” Callie said with a smile.

  Deborah held her at arm’s length, then admitted what was on her mind. “My life was a bit simpler when your Aunt Daisy ran this shop, Callie Harper. I always knew what to expect when I walked in the door. With you, I’m not so sure.”

  Callie laughed and glanced down at the ground.

  “I have something for you.” Deborah stuck her head back in the buggy and pulled out the quilt she’d tucked in there before leaving home.

  “Another quilt?” Callie took it from her with near reverence. “Deborah this is beautiful. I didn’t realize you had finished another.”

  “We finished it.”

  “You and Melinda and Esther.”

  “Correct.”

  “So do you want me to auction it, like the others?”

  “The bishop is still deciding about whether we should auction more quilts on eBay or not, but we don’t want you to sell this quilt, Callie. We’re giving you this quilt—it’s a friendship quilt. See our names stitched in—all four of our names? This is our gift to you, our way of thanking you for all you have done for us.”

  When Callie looked
up tears had pooled in her eyes, and Deborah thought for a moment that she would refuse the gift. Instead she hugged it to her, and patted Max’s head.

  Callie always went to Max now, when she needed reassurance.

  Then she grabbed Deborah and hugged her tight.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “Gern gschehne,” Deborah said.

  Callie stepped back and Deborah joined Jonas in the buggy. As they pulled out of the parking lot, she hung out the window and waved. Callie was still standing there, holding the quilt with one hand, patting Max with the other.

  Perhaps her mother-in-law had been right. There was no stopping the pain that ran through their life like dishwater down a drain, no avoiding the lessons that God allowed. But given time, joy returned bit by bit.

  The last few years had been difficult for her freinden; however, Deborah had the distinct feeling that better times were ahead.

  Looking back at Daisy’s Quilt Shop—neat, trimmed, and minus one FOR SALE sign—gave her a feeling of satisfaction.

  Callie Harper had brought an interesting change to the pattern of her life. As a quilter, she was fascinated by the new design and couldn’t help wondering where it would lead them all next.

  Questions for Group Discussion

  1.There’s a stark contrast between Deborah and Callie in chapter 1. Deborah is in her home, dressed, working on something she loves to do, and she is surrounded by friends and family. Callie is hiding beneath her covers as the clock approaches noon; she has no food in the pantry, and she has no plans for how to address her problems. Have there been times in your life when you were able to relate to either character?

  2.In chapter 9, Ruth makes the observation that “there’s a place in this life for pain.” Deborah doesn’t like this answer any more than I do, but her heart acknowledges the truth of what her mother-in-law is saying. Do you agree that God sometimes uses the pain in our lives? Why or why not?

  3.In chapter 15, we see Esther’s garden. This is where she has buried all of her grief, and also where God seems to be working with her, slowly mending her heart. Where do you go and what do you do when you’re hurting the most?