Austina wouldn’t meet my eyes. “Bunny.”
Oliver lifted his head from his paws and looked around as if expecting a rabbit to hop around the sofa. When no bunny appeared, he lay his chin back on his folded paws.
“Bunny?” I asked.
Austina took a deep breath. “The staffer who I got fired.”
“What? Back up.” I waved my hands. “You got someone fired and didn’t tell me? Was this recent? Why didn’t you tell us that the moment we walked through the door?”
She swallowed. “It happened about two weeks ago. She was my assistant on the bookmobile. I worked with her every day. Actually, we worked side by side for nearly five years and never had a problem.”
“The coworker you got fired was named Bunny?”
“Yes.” Another sigh. “Bunny Gallagher.”
“That’s her nickname, right?” I leaned forward in my chair.
“No, it’s her real name. I know because I was her supervisor.”
“Of all the names in the world, her parents chose Bunny?” I asked.
Anna shook her head as if she couldn’t understand it either.
“I suppose so,” Austina said, sounding tired.
“So what happened? What changed?” I demanded.
“I found out she was stealing fine money from the bookmobile. I felt there was something fishy with the amount we were collecting. We never made huge amounts on fines, but I felt like we weren’t collecting as much as we usually did.”
“Maybe patrons were getting better about returning stuff,” I offered.
“That’s what I thought at first, but I was suspicious enough to set a trap.”
“A trap?” I began to pace.
“Bunny had no idea what I was up to.”
“So how did Bunny steal the money?” Anna asked.
“When collecting fine money from the patron, instead of adding the fine to the cash register, she pocketed it. It took so long to discover because she would waive the fine on the computer, so each night the cash register and the library’s computer system would reconcile. I should have realized it earlier. It’s one of the oldest tricks in the book when it comes to library fraud.”
“Library fraud?”
“It happens,” she said seriously.
“Where can I find Bunny?” I asked.
Austina was quiet for a long moment. “She has an apartment on Jackson Street in Millersburg. In the building that used to be a hardware store.” She rattled off the address.
Bunny Gallagher lived in Millersburg on Jackson Street a block from Double Dime Diner. If she lived that close to Double Dime, she might be a frequent customer. The Double Dime was the place I went for half my meals and all my non-Amish gossip, so I might have even seen her there. In any case, Linda, the one and only waitress at the diner, would know who she was, whether she was a regular or whether she’d stopped by just once. Linda knew everyone who walked through the diner’s glass door.
While Austina stared into her teacup, Anna and I shared a look.
“Does anyone work on the bookmobile with you now?” Anna asked.
She blinked and straightened in her armchair. “Sometimes Amber Rustle will join me if I know I have a very busy day ahead of me, and the main library can spare her.”
“Amber?”
“Do you know her?” Austina asked.
I knew Amber. Her best friend had been murdered last December, and I had helped unravel the crime. It was the last murder investigation I had been involved with. I had hoped it would be my last, but considering I was now sitting across from a murder suspect, that appeared unlikely. Amber was also the college-aged daughter of one of my fellow township trustees, Jason Rustle. Jason would not be pleased to hear his daughter was caught up in another murder. I wouldn’t be surprised if he ordered her to quit her part-time library job on the spot.
I nodded to Austina. “Her father is a fellow township trustee.”
“That’s right. I had forgotten.”
“Going back to when you arrived at the bookmobile this morning, did you hear anything? Was there any indication that anyone else was there?”
Austina’s voice quivered. “Do you think the killer may have still been nearby?”
For a brief moment, tough Austina appeared so frightened and vulnerable that I felt bad for her. What I didn’t know was whether she was afraid for her safety—or that she might not get away with murder. Anna might have been convinced that Austina was innocent, but I still wasn’t sold on the idea.
I shook my head, hoping to ease some of her anxiety. I wasn’t an expert on dead bodies, but I have seen my share, and the bishop looked like he had been dead a while. “I don’t think so.”
She blew out a breath. “Good,” she whispered. “It would be so much worse to think someone was watching me when I found Bartholomew—worse even than finding the body itself.”
Shortly after that statement, Austina slumped back in the chair as if the gravity of her situation had fallen on her shoulders.
“What will you do now?” Anna asked Austina.
“What do you mean?” the librarian asked.
“The police have taken away the bookmobile. Will you work at the main library until it is back?”
Tears welled behind Austina’s glasses. “No. I’ve been put on unpaid administrative leave until this business with the murder is cleared up. I don’t know what I am to do now, or even what I should do this afternoon.”
Anna set her teacup back on the saucer on the tea tray. “Austina, you need to get some rest. Angie and I will go now and let you do that.”
“Wh-wh—” I started to protest. I had so many more unanswered questions to ask Austina about the bookmobile, the library, and Bartholomew Beiler. Anna gave me a “be silent” glare better than any shushing librarian I had ever seen, and I snapped my mouth closed.
Anna stood up. “I’m sure Angie will be in touch.”
Austina walked us to the door. Despite Anna’s disapproval, I asked Austina one more question. “What about yesterday when Rachel and I met you?”
She nodded. “You mean when I was arguing with the bishop in front of God and everyone?”
I nodded. “There was a young teacher there with the children. I saw her in the doorway of the school. What is her name? Do you know her?”
She nodded. “She’s Phoebe Truber. She is the teacher of the school in Bartholomew’s district. All the children that go to that school are members of Beiler’s district.”
“I know Phoebe,” Anna said. “She’s a sweet girl. Shy, but sweet.”
“She seemed upset,” I said.
Austina placed her hand on the doorknob and turned it. She didn’t pull it open just yet. “The bishop and I were yelling at each other in her schoolyard. It would have upset any teacher to have something like that happen in front of her pupils.”
I knitted my brow. Something about the teacher’s expression had struck me as odd. “I think there was more to it than that. Does she check out books from the bookmobile? Is she one of the young women that Bartholomew accused you of corrupting with your books?”
Austina’s face hardened for the first time. The irate librarian’s scowl that Rachel and I had seen during her argument the day before now returned to replace her weepy expression. “I can’t tell you that. I can’t tell you the titles of any books my patrons check out.”
I frowned. “You can’t even tell me if she uses the bookmobile?”
Austina shook her head. “No, I can’t, and I don’t know what this has to do with finding out who killed the bishop.” She opened the door.
Anna and Oliver stepped outside. Oliver returned to the garden to finish his inspection.
“I am very grateful for what you are doing for me, Angie,” Austina said. “I know it can’t be easy for you to become involved, consi
dering your relationship with the sheriff. But I am grateful. Remember that, no matter what.”
No matter what what? I wanted to ask, but I didn’t get a chance—she then shut the door in our faces.
Chapter Nine
Inside my car, Anna buckled her seat belt. I was still outside the car, trying to convince Oliver that he’d already sniffed every single plant in Austina’s front yard. I waved at Deputy Anderson in his department-issued cruiser. He scowled back. I clearly wasn’t on the deputy’s favorites list right now, if I ever was. He must have asked himself on a daily basis how his hero the sheriff could be dating me. Some days, I wondered the same.
After I got Oliver settled in the back of the car and gave one final wave to Deputy Anderson, I asked Anna, “What do you know about Bartholomew Beiler? How was he perceived in the Amish community?”
“He was not well liked. His community adhered to his rules because he was the bishop, but he was a harsh man. Many young people from his community have left Amish life or joined a different district. It doesn’t happen often, but it seems to me it’s happened much more often with Bartholomew’s followers than with other districts in the county.”
I started the car and eased out of Austina’s driveway. “So his community is shrinking?”
She frowned. “Ya. At a certain point, it won’t exist if the young people keep fleeing. Without the younger generation, there won’t be any more children to be raised that way.”
“Was Bartholomew worried about that?” I asked.
“He had to have been. And maybe that was why he was cracking down on the books his members read. Maybe he blamed the Englisch influence on his church members for his dwindling numbers.” Anna rested her hands on her quilting basket on her lap. “He should have really been blaming himself for holding on to them too firmly. If a man’s will is gripped too tightly, it is crushed. That man either becomes broken or dangerous, or both.”
I shivered. “Is that from the Bible?”
“Nee. It is from my own thoughts. I have seen it many times and have come to this conclusion myself.” She gave me a sideways smile. “Don’t tell my son of my deep thoughts. He will tease me.”
I chuckled, happy to have her joke break the tense mood in the car. “Jo-Jo doesn’t need an excuse to tease anyone.”
“That is true.”
“Do I know anyone who left Bartholomew’s community?”
“Jeremiah Leham,” she said.
I braked hard at a stop sign at the entrance to Austina’s neighborhood and stared at Anna. “Sarah’s husband?”
Sarah Leham was another member of my quilting circle. She was a sweet woman, always willing to lend an extra hand at Running Stitch despite her busy life as an Amish mother and wife of a vegetable farmer. She was also a notorious gossip. “Wow. Do you think Sarah knows about the murder by now?”
Anna gave me a “duh” look, which made me smile because it didn’t go with her prayer cap. “Ya, she knows. I wouldn’t be surprised if she heard about it before you left the crime scene. Since Sarah didn’t come straight to the shop like she usually does when events like this happen, maybe she didn’t hear your part in the discovery. When she finds out you found the body, she will pepper you with a million questions. I hope you are ready.”
I was ready. I had been on the receiving end of Sarah’s barrage of questions before and had survived, for the most part.
Anna smiled. “Mattie can mind the shop for a little while later. I think it’s time we paid a visit to Sarah and her husband.”
“It’s like you can read my mind,” I told Anna.
She snorted. “Don’t spout your Englisch mumbo jumbo at me.”
I laughed and turned the car in the direction away from town and toward the Lehams’ farm.
The Lehams ran a large farm on the outskirts of Rolling Brook, five miles east of the center of the township. I had been there only a handful of times. It seemed whenever we had quilting circle meetings Sarah was eager to escape the farm and come into the shop.
Sarah and Jeremiah had five children. Since the Lehams were New Order Amish, their children went to the local public school in Millersburg, and they even rode the school bus there. However, like all Amish children, the Leham children’s schooling stopped after the eighth grade.
As my car rolled up the long gravel driveway, Sarah beamed. She came down the porch steps and met us. I climbed out of the car, and the thin Amish woman said, “Angie, Anna, I didn’t know you were coming over for a visit. Do you have some news?” She was always ready and willing to hear the latest township gossip.
“We do have news,” Anna said.
Sarah grinned from ear to ear. “I suppose it’s about Bartholomew Beiler,” she said with more enthusiasm than I would’ve expected. She skipped up the front steps. “Come on in!” She held the door open for us. “I was about to start putting lunch on the table for Jeremiah.”
I checked my phone for the time. It was barely ten thirty, but I knew farmers like Jeremiah usually got up at four a.m. to work the farm. Clearly, I would never make it as a farmer. Waking up before eight was painful enough.
Oliver sniffed the floor of Sarah’s porch and seemed to be satisfied there was no scent of a feathery friend in the home. Together, we followed Sarah into the house.
Sarah led us straight through the front room and into the spacious kitchen. The kitchen was like every other Amish woman’s kitchen I had been in. The floor was made of wide-planked wood. The natural gas–powered appliances, including the oven and refrigerator, dominated the space. As New Order Amish, the Lehams had indoor plumbing, but I knew some of the stricter communities, probably including Bartholomew’s, didn’t allow it.
Sarah wiped her hands on the edge of her apron. “We’re having vegetable stew and corn bread. I’ve made enough to feed the whole district. Will you stay and eat with us?”
My stomach rumbled with hunger. The meal smelled wonderful. “Sure,” I said. “It’s never too early for soup, right?”
Sarah grinned. “That’s right.”
Anna plucked a wooden spoon from the hook on the cabinet. She dipped it into Sarah’s stew and blew on it before taking a taste.
Sarah watched her closely while Anna considered the flavor.
“It is gut,” Anna declared, setting the spoon in the sink.
Sarah’s shoulders relaxed, and she beamed at Anna as if she had just announced Sarah had won grand prize at the county fair. “Danki, Anna.”
“It could use a little more sage next time. Since herbs should go in right at the beginning, it’s too late now for that.”
Sarah laughed good-naturedly. “I knew I wouldn’t escape with a cooking compliment from you that easily.”
I started setting the table using the clean silverware piled on the counter.
Sarah picked up a soup bowl and ladled some of the steaming soup into it. “Jeremiah will be happy that you are here. You will want to ask him about his old bishop, I imagine.”
“Anna said that you would have heard about Bartholomew Beiler’s death by now,” I said.
Sarah laughed. “I heard all about it. Jeremiah’s younger brother stopped by to tell us. He’s ten years younger than my husband and still in the old district. It’s all that anyone in that community is talking about.”
“I’m sure it is,” I said. “What’s his brother’s name?”
“Levi. Levi still lives with Jeremiah’s elderly parents.” She frowned. “They live a few miles from here outside of Berlin. We don’t see them often. Even after all these years, my husband’s parents are still hurt that Jeremiah left the district to marry me.”
“That’s why he left?”
She nodded and filled the next bowl of soup.
“That’s pretty romantic of him,” I said.
Sarah giggled and set the bowl on the counter next to the other full
one.
“Even though it would upset his parents, Levi came here to tell you of the bishop’s death?” Anna asked.
Sarah nodded. “He was upset but relieved too. He said now that the district must choose a new bishop, they might finally have a chance to have a kind leader.”
Did that mean the murderer had had the same thing in mind? I shivered. I tried to push the idea aside, because if Levi was so happy with Bartholomew’s death, he may very well be the one who committed it. One thing was for sure. I needed to talk to Jeremiah’s younger brother myself.
“Did someone come in the shop and tell you about it?” Sarah asked. “I’m sure it is the main topic of conversation throughout the county. I’m sorry that happened to the bishop, but there won’t be many who will cry over his passing. He was a cruel man. You should have heard some of the things he said to Jeremiah’s family about our district, Anna.” She frowned. “And about me.” She shook her head once as if dismissing the gloomy thoughts. Soon, she returned to her normal cheerful self.
“We didn’t hear about it from someone visiting the shop.” Anna filled glasses of water from the tap.
“I was there,” I said as I set one of the soup bowls at the table.
Sarah dropped her ladle and it splashed in the soup pot. “You were there?”
I told her about the events of the morning.
Gingerly, Sarah fished the ladle out of the pot and rinsed it off in the sink. “I’ve been away from the shop too long. Jeremiah has been bringing in the last of the harvest and taking it to market. It won’t be long before the first frost strikes. Jeremiah is always edgy this time of year and worries about what crops we can harvest in time. It is difficult to see what is left behind or lost on the field.”
“And getting the latest gossip,” Anna teased.
Sarah laughed, and her cheeks flushed. “Ya, maybe that too.”
I finished setting the table. “Do you know when the frost will be?”
Sarah nodded. “A hard frost is predicted for the end of the week. Jeremiah should be back soon.” She clapped her hands, which made Oliver jump from the warm spot where he’d curled up in front of the oven. “You should see our bumper pumpkin crop. We’ve never had one like it before. I haven’t seen you ladies, so I haven’t been able to tell you. We’re opening the field up as a pick-your-own-pumpkin patch. It’s the first time we’ve done it. But we have so many extra pumpkins, we don’t know how else to move them.”
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