“I’m impressed,” I said honestly.
“Good, and I’m glad you’re here early. I have work for you to do.” She walked back into the tent on her impractical heels as if expecting me to follow. “The children’s books are a complete mess. I don’t know how the volunteers expect anyone to find anything.”
I caught up with her. “I’m happy to do it, but I need to talk to Willow first. It’s trustee business.”
“Oh,” Mom said with a frown. “I think she is on the other side of the tent. Last time I saw her, she was setting up the cash register.”
I thanked my mother and walked around the corner of the tent. To my amazement, there was already a line of book lovers. Amber Rustle was at the cash register, doing a brisk business. She waved. “Hi, Angie.”
“This is amazing,” I said.
She beamed. “We’re pretty happy with the turnout. This is even better than when we hold the book sale at the main library.”
“And people are already buying books.”
She handed the man in front of her a receipt. “The book dealers always come to the book sale first,” Amber said. “They’re looking for something that they can sell for a higher price at their stores or online. You will be able to pick them out.” She pointed to a man running a handheld scanner over the spine of each book that he picked up. “They all have a scanner like that, which tells them what each book is worth.”
“A high-tech Amish book sale. Who knew?”
She laughed and said to the customer, “That will be thirty-fifty.”
The book buyer had four huge crates of books. I wondered whether all of those would make him a profit.
“I’m looking for Willow. Have you seen her?” I asked.
She shook her head. “Not since we opened.”
That was strange. Typically, Willow was in the middle of things.
“If you see her, will you tell her that I was looking for her?”
“No problem,” Amber said, and helped the next customer.
Before I headed back to Mom and the children’s books, I decided to take a loop through the farmers’ market to try to find Willow. Normally I wouldn’t have been concerned, but there had already been one murder related to the library book sale . . .
“Would you like to try the honey, miss?” An Amish man held out a wooden tongue depressor to me.
I took it. “Sure.” Maybe the sugar would clear my head.
“Choose any flavor you like. We have clover honey, wildflower honey, buckwheat honey—all from Amish farms right here in Holmes County. Just one dip per flavor.”
I dipped my depressor into the jar of wildflower honey. It was some of the sweetest I ever tasted. My father would love it, and I could imagine him eating it straight from the jar. I still had the depressor in my mouth when I reached into my bag to take out my wallet. As I did so, something hit me on the back, and the depressor hit the back of my mouth, making me gag. I couldn’t believe I was under Petunia attack again.
I spat the depressor out onto the pavement. I bent over coughing and sputtering.
Someone was rubbing my back. When I finally straightened up, I saw that it was Willow.
The Amish man at the honey stand stared at me openmouthed.
Willow rubbed my back some more. “I’m so sorry to sneak up on you like that, Angie. Amber told me that you were looking for me. What are you doing standing around with a tongue depressor in your mouth? You could have choked to death.”
Oliver placed his white forepaws on my legs and whimpered.
I rubbed his black ear. “I’m okay, Ollie,” I said hoarsely.
I was beginning to wonder whether I should have stayed back at the shop. I had been attacked twice since I came to the pie factory grand opening, and once had been a near-death experience. Who knew that an Amish farmers’ market could be so dangerous?
“Angie, you need to be more careful,” Willow went on.
I rubbed my throat and opened my wallet.
The Amish man held out the jar of wildflower honey. “Here, take it. No charge.” I tried to insist on paying, but he shook his head. “Nee. It is free for you.”
As we walked away, Willow said, “He’s probably worried that you will sue him for nearly killing you with that dangerous honey.” She reached into her tote bag and pulled out an unopened bottle of water. “Here, have a drink of this—it will make you feel better. And you might want to have some tea with honey too. I could make you some tea. I have a small tea stand beside the book sale.” She grinned, pointing at the honey jar in my hand. “And you have plenty of honey.”
I gave her a sidelong glance. “Where have you been?” I asked in an accusing tone. Most likely, my question would have been nicer if she hadn’t almost caused me to choke to death.
Willow didn’t seem to mind my sharpness. “I have a surprise that will make you feel better.”
“A surprise?” I asked warily. I wasn’t sure I could take any more surprises. “What is it?”
“I may have found your killer.”
I stared at her. “My killer?”
She nodded happily. “I found the one who killed the bishop.”
“Who? Where is he?”
She clasped her hands together and her gauzy blouse blew in the breeze. “In the woods. I have him tied up in the trees.”
I blinked at her.
Chapter Thirty-one
“Wh-what?” I stammered.
Willow took my hand. “Let me show you.”
Willow led me away from the pie factory and the farmers’ market and into the woods. As soon as we crossed the tree line, I could hear faint swearing. She really did have someone tied up among the trees.
She dropped my hand and increased her pace. “It’s not far.”
I followed her as she wove in and out of trees. Who knew that Willow felt so at home in the forest?
She pointed in front of her. I came around a tree trunk and saw Nahum Shetler lying on the forest floor, holding on to his thigh. A wire snare was around his leg just above the ankle.
He glared at me. “Cut me out of this thing. My knife is in my pack over there.” With a knobby finger, he pointed at a gray knapsack just out of reach of his left hand.
I flapped my mouth open and closed. “Nahum?”
“I said, cut me out!” he yelled.
I turned to Willow. “Willow, you caught him with a snare?”
Willow twirled the purple crystal hanging from her neck. “Technically, he caught himself. I saw someone moving through the trees while I was talking to Amber at the cash register, so I did what you would do, Angie—I followed him.”
I touched my forehead. I could feel a migraine coming on, right between the eyes.
“Cut me out!” Nahum bellowed again.
Willow shook her finger at him. “You be quiet, so that I can finish my story.”
He growled in return. The man sounded like a rabid bobcat. Not that I had ever heard one in person, but Oliver, Dodger, and I watched a lot of Animal Planet.
“So I followed him and saw him playing on the ground with something. I yelled at him, and he jumped three feet in the air. When he landed, he screamed.” Willow folded her arms across her chest. “Caught in his own trap. Serves him right for trying to catch poor defenseless bunny rabbits.”
Nahum’s lip curled back into a snarl. “That purple-haired witch spooked me and I got caught in my own rabbit snare.” He held on to his leg.
The snare explained what Nahum had been doing in the woods outside the bookmobile the night that Bartholomew was murdered. It also explained why he would have been in a position to see Austina coming and going from the bookmobile so late. He was likely out there to check his traps, but I had to be sure.
“Were you out here the night before the bishop’s body was discovered to check these snare
s?” I asked.
“I already told you that I was, and I saw who killed the bishop.”
I found Willow watching me. “You mean someone other than you did it? Angie, do you know who?”
“Of course she does. I told her yesterday.” He turned his gaze on me. “I suppose you haven’t told your sheriff about what I saw yet, have you?”
I glared back. “Why haven’t you? You’re the one who claims to have seen something.”
His smile broadened. “I have nothing to gain from it. I don’t do anything that doesn’t work to my advantage.”
“What an Amish way to live,” I snapped.
He jerked up, but the snare held him back. “Don’t you tell me what an Amish way to live is—you know nothing of my culture.”
“I know Amish aren’t supposed to be selfish like you. How could you set a snare so close to the pie factory?” I asked, becoming angry. “Your grandchildren play in these woods.”
He flinched but said, “I will set a snare anywhere I well please.”
I glared at him. I couldn’t remember the last time I had been so furious. One of Rachel’s children could have been seriously hurt or even maimed by one of Nahum’s snares. Mentally, I took back every thought I had ever had about believing that Rachel should reestablish her relationship with her father. A man who would put her children at risk like this didn’t deserve to know her.
Willow touched my arm. “Should we call the police?”
I looked back through the trees at the pie factory. I didn’t want to make a scene and ruin the Millers’ grand opening. A slight form moved through the trees.
I hurried over to her to stop her, but I was too slow.
“Angie, is everything al—” Rachel stopped midsentence when she saw her father lying on the ground with wire snared around his leg.
“Cut me out of here,” Nahum said to Rachel.
“He said there are wire cutters in his pack,” Willow said.
Without saying a word, Rachel knelt beside Nahum’s knapsack. After rooting through it, she came up with the cutters and clipped the wire, holding Nahum in place.
He winced as the pressure released from his leg.
Rachel stood.
Nahum had trouble getting to his feet. I rushed forward to help him. At first, he pushed me away, but when he realized that he couldn’t stand on his own, he let me. When he was upright, I stepped back.
Rachel still had the wire cutters in her hands, and Nahum snatched them from her, nearly cutting her with the razor-sharp tip. “Give those to me.”
“Are you all right?” Rachel managed to ask.
“Nee.” He pointed at Willow and me. “These are the ones you call your friends, ones who would let an old man writhe on the forest floor like that?”
“I—I—” Rachel stammered.
Rachel couldn’t finish her sentence because Nahum spun around and hobbled away. He had a slight limp.
“You should see a doctor,” I called after him.
He said nothing and kept going.
After he disappeared deeper into the trees, Rachel looked to me. “Why didn’t you cut him out?”
“I—I was questioning him.” My brow knit together.
Tears welled in Rachel’s eyes. “Angie, how could you do that when he was in pain?”
I bit my lip. “I know. I wasn’t thinking. I was so angry about the snares. I’m sorry.”
She lowered her eyes so that we no longer made eye contact. “I have to return to the factory.”
“Rachel!” I called after her, but she kept walking.
I felt an ache in my chest. Nahum had been in the wrong, but I had been too.
Willow picked up what was left of the snare from the forest floor. “I’m going to report this to the police. There is no trapping this close to town. The sheriff can give him a citation.”
A lot of good that would do, I thought. Nahum would just ignore it.
“Don’t worry about Rachel,” Willow said. “She was only surprised by seeing her father like that. When was the last time that she spoke to him?”
“I’m not sure if she ever has before today.” I stared in the direction Rachel had gone.
“Oh.” She smiled. “Well, now they broke the ice.”
Leave it to Willow to put a positive spin on this.
She started toward the parking lot.
I stopped her. “Willow, Caroline has called an emergency trustees’ meeting for today.”
She grimaced at me over her shoulder. “Why?”
“She wasn’t too happy that you authorized the farmers’ market.” I stepped over a tree branch and followed her out of the woods.
Willow snorted. “She always gets bent out of shape over something.”
I had to agree with her. “In any case, she’s demanded that we vote on the farmers’ market today.”
Willow twirled her crystal as we came into the clearing beside the parking lot. “Where and when?”
I stepped over a fallen log. “My shop at high noon.”
“Seems appropriate,” Willow said.
Chapter Thirty-two
I left Willow at the edge of the woods and went in search of Rachel. It was midmorning now, and the farmers’ market was packed even though it had had only word-of-mouth advertising and little preparation. English tourists and Rolling Brook townspeople milled around the half dozen farm stands and wandered in and out of the pie factory. I spotted Jonah and Petunia talking to a pastor from a local church. I knew he was pitching his goat lawn service. Oliver stood beside him and wagged his stubby tail at me. I made the motion for him to stay and headed to the factory’s back door. Oliver would be fine with Petunia at his side. If anyone tried to bother him, she would go all ninja goat on him.
It was just as busy inside the pie factory as it was outside. Clumps of tourists waited for the tour of the factory floor, and others stood in line to purchase pies. I was happy to see my favorite, the pumpkin fluff, was a popular item. Through the glass observation windows, which peered down onto the pie-making operation, I could see Aaron leading a tour of a half dozen English tourists. They all wore hairnets. Aaron even wore one over his Amish hat. There was no sign of Rachel.
I left the observation room and went down a narrow hallway. The walls were white and the floor was tiled. At the end of the hallways there were two metal doors that led to the factory floor. Before that door there was a half-open door to my right. Whimpers came from that room.
“You need to get a handle on yourself,” an angry male voice said.
There were only tears in response.
“Do you have any idea how your behavior will seem?” the man asked.
Again no answer, only sniffles.
Thinking it was maybe Rachel crying over Nahum, I pushed open the door, which opened into a large storage room holding huge containers of flour, sugar, spices, and every dry ingredient that a baker would need to make every pie he could imagine.
Phillip and Phoebe Truber stood in the middle of the room facing each other. Phoebe leaned on a crate that had FLOUR stenciled on the side of it. Tears streamed down her face. Phillip scowled at his sister with his arms folded across his chest. They both turned and stared at me standing in the doorway.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I muttered. “I was looking for Rachel.”
Phillip’s jaw twitched. “She is not here.”
“I can see that. Do you know where she is?”
He glared at me. “Nee.”
I hesitated in the doorway. “Phoebe, are you all right?”
She covered her face and brushed past me and into the hallway. She was already in the observation room by the time I turned around.
I turned back to Phillip. “What’s wrong with your sister?”
“That is none of your business.” Phillip stepped into my
face. “The Millers may not mind it, but do not get involved in my family’s affairs.” He left the room.
Was that a threat?
I stood in the middle of the storage room, considering what I had just seen.
“Angie, what are you doing in here?” someone asked.
Realizing I was gripping the jar of honey the Amish farmer had given me, I dropped it into my bag. I spun around to find Mattie in the doorway with a hairnet over her chestnut hair and prayer cap.
“I was looking for Rachel and lost my way.” I stepped out of the storage room and shut the door behind me. “The strangest thing just happened.” I went on to tell her about the argument I witnessed between the Truber siblings.
Mattie shrugged. “Phillip is just tense because it’s the grand opening.”
I didn’t think she was right. There was more to it than that. “Do you know where Rachel is?”
She nodded. “She started a tour of the factory floor.”
“Oh,” I said, disappointed. Rachel would be caught up in the tour for at least a half hour, and by that time I would need to leave for the trustees’ meeting at my shop.
Mattie cocked her head. “Why are you looking for her?”
“I need to talk to her,” I said evasively.
Mattie frowned, and I knew she didn’t believe me. I was relieved when she didn’t press the issue. I followed Mattie out into the hall. “I should head out to the book sale, but I have one more question.”
Mattie waited.
“Mattie, do you know where I can find Faith Beiler?”
Mattie was quiet for a moment. “I guess your best shot is her family’s farm.”
I sighed. I had a feeling that the Beiler family wasn’t going to let me anywhere near their farm, especially when news got around the district about Jonah’s and my visit to the Kauffman farm.
Mattie snapped her fingers. “Wait.”
“What?” I asked.
“I remembered something,” she said excitedly. “Faith works at a candy shop in Charm. She might be there. I remember seeing her there when I was out for a buggy ride a little while ago.”
I arched an eyebrow. “On a buggy ride by yourself?”
Murder, Plainly Read Page 19