I couldn’t help but smile at how well they got along. It was a good sign if we ever became a real family.
My mother dragged me from my happy thoughts back to reality. “The sheriff’s department was done processing the bookmobile and released it back to the library.” She shot Willow a look. “Willow insisted that the bookmobile be brought back here and parked in the middle of the farmers’ market.”
Willow put a piece of cheese pizza on her plate and sat at our table. “But Aaron Miller doesn’t want me to park it at the factory. When the library brought it into the township, he blocked his drive so it couldn’t get onto his property. So then they brought it back here and parked it.”
“Why didn’t they take it back to the library? That’s where it should go.” I stared out the window at the huge vehicle, half illuminated by a lamppost.
Willow raised her chin. “I told them not to. We need it here to advertise the book sale.”
Mom pursed her lips. I was willing to bet she was beginning to regret drafting Willow into the book sale planning. Had she asked me, I could have told her that it would come to something like this.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Dad trying very hard not to look our way. Smart man.
“So it’s sitting here.” I pointed my thumb at the window.
“Yep,” Willow said around a piece of cheese pizza.
Thankfully, my mother chose to ignore Willow’s poor etiquette.
“Why am I here exactly?” I asked. “Other than to tell you that having the bookmobile parked in the middle of Sugartree Street is a terrible idea?”
“It’s not a terrible idea.” Willow pouted just a little.
I was actually starting to lose my appetite. “Some of the Amish might find it offensive because Bartholomew died in there.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Willow said. “The people in Beiler’s Amish district don’t come to the book sale. Think of how many tourists the bookmobile will attract when they’re driving down the street.” She fished into her pants pocket and came up with a set of keys. She slapped them on the table.
“What are those?” I asked, even though I knew.
“Keys to the bookmobile. I think you should keep them.” She slid the bookmobile keys across the table to me.
I slid them back. “I don’t want those. I have nothing to do with this.”
Willow left the keys on the table. “Why not? The bookmobile parked in front of my tea shop will be great publicity for the library. They could use some good press right now.”
I shook my head. “Leaving the bookmobile in the middle of Sugartree Street will not get the library good press. In fact, the opposite will be true.”
Willow took a bite of pizza as if she hadn’t heard.
An hour later, the pizza was all gone, thanks mostly to my dad and Zander. Willow and I were still at a stalemate over the bookmobile. Zander and the two dogs had fallen asleep in the tea shop’s window seat.
“It’s late,” I said after throwing away the pizza boxes. “I need to take Zander home.”
“Angie’s right,” my dad said, speaking up suddenly. “I’m almost as tired as those three.” He pointed at the sleeping dogs and boy. “Let’s go home, Daphne.”
“Angie,” Willow said, “I’m not giving up on this.”
I sighed. “I wouldn’t expect you to.” I gathered up the boy and dogs and headed for the door.
At the sheriff’s house, I unlocked the front door. Oliver and Tux ran inside and curled up in Tux’s dog bed. Zander wobbled next to me, half asleep. Finally, I gave up making him walk, and I carried him to his bedroom at the end of the hallway.
In his room, I dodged cars and action figures on the way to his bed. I laid him on it, removed his shoes, and covered him with the quilt that my quilting circle had made for his birthday. It was unique as far as Amish quilts went. It was a nine-block, with a different superhero in each block, from Batman to Thor. While making the quilt, I had to explain to my quilting circle who most of the characters were.
“Night,” I whispered. I kissed Zander’s forehead and smiled. He would have never stood for the kiss had he been awake.
Half asleep myself, I stumbled back to the living room. Tux and Oliver were sound asleep. I kicked off my cowboy boots and lay on the couch just to rest my eyes.
The next thing I knew, I felt something touch my forehead. I blinked my eyes open and found Mitchell’s blue-green eyes staring bemused into my blurry ones. “What time is it?” I mumbled.
He was sitting on the edge of the couch, and he tucked a curl behind my ear. “Two in the morning.”
I blinked. “And you are just getting home?”
“I’ve been here a little bit. Not long.”
I stretched an arm over my head. “Doing what?”
“I’ve been watching you sleep.”
“Creepy,” I muttered, but a smile took the bite out of my words.
“It was a very Sleeping Beauty moment. I wanted to kiss you awake, but I was afraid you might wake up and punch me.” He grinned.
I snorted, and Mitchell smiled. He nodded at the huge stack of picture books and the buckeyes on his coffee table. “What are those for?”
I rubbed my eyes. “The buckeyes are a peace offering for you, and the books are for Z. I thought Zander and I could read them together. I might have gotten carried away. I bought them at the book sale today. There are even more in my car, because I thought it would be good to keep some at my house for when he comes over.” I rolled onto my side and looked at him. “I was thinking of turning the spare room into a hangout for him. Not a bedroom. He already has two of those, but a place he can call his own at my house.”
There were tears in Mitchell’s eyes. In the time that I had known him, I had never seen him cry.
I sat up alarmed. “What’s wrong? I—I won’t, if you don’t want me to. You and Hillary have a right to decide who spends time with Zander and what he does. I don’t want to presume he will stay at my house. It was just an idea for a night like tonight.”
Mitchell took my face in both of his hands. “You want to spend time with my son.”
I swallowed, searching his eyes. “Yes, but if you don’t want that, it’s fine—”
He stopped my babbling with a kiss that made my toes curl.
When he pulled away, I blinked. “What was that for?”
“For wanting to spend time with my son, for caring about him when I’m not around.” He continued to hold on to my face. “I didn’t know I would find anyone who would do that.”
I blinked away my own tears and fixed his already straight collar. “He’s a great kid, and I care about him. I care about you both.”
“I more than care,” he said. “I love you.”
“Not ‘Love you,’” I whispered to myself. “No question.”
“What?” he asked.
“Me too,” I said against his lips.
Chapter Thirty-nine
The next morning, I fell off Mitchell’s couch and groaned. Oliver and Tux took turns licking my face.
“Morning, sunshine,” Mitchell said, looking bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. I hated him for it.
After Mitchell woke me up at two in the morning, he insisted that I spend the night. I agreed but insisted that I sleep on his couch even though he’d offered me his bed and volunteered for the sofa. No way was I sleeping in Mitchell’s king-sized bed. In a lot of ways, I was as old-fashioned as my Amish friends.
Now lying on the floor covered in doggy slobber, I sort of wished I had taken him up on his offer. I pushed the dogs away and sat up. “What time is it?”
“Eight,” he said.
I groaned.
I could hear the television droning in the den. “Zander is already up.”
Mitchell smiled. “Oh, yes, for a couple of hours now.”
His grin widened. “Definitely.”
I rubbed my eyes. “At least I know what I’m getting myself into.” I sat back on the couch.
“I’m going to take Zander with me to the station today. His mom will pick him up later this morning there.”
I nodded, still half asleep. “I’d better get home. Who knows what havoc Dodger has wreaked alone in the house all night, and it’s the book sale again today.” I slapped my forehead. “The bookmobile!”
“What about it?” Mitchell asked.
“The bookmobile is parked in the middle of Sugartree Street.” I groaned.
“Why?” Mitchell asked, genuinely confused.
“Willow,” I said. “When it was released from your department, she convinced the library to let her park it there to get more attention for the book sale.”
He shook his head. “It will certainly do that.”
“I have to get it out of there somehow before it offends every Amish person in the county.” I scrambled back onto the couch.
“Speaking of the bookmobile, we need to talk,” he said, sounding much less like a boyfriend and more like a cop.
I grimaced. “About Austina.”
He nodded. “Yes.”
“Before you say anything, let me say, you’re right. I should have told you right away when Nahum told me what he saw. Don’t forget the buckeyes. The buckeyes were a peace offering.” I pointed to the open bag on the coffee table. Quite a few were missing. Chocolate and peanut butter, the breakfast of champions and rural county sheriffs everywhere.
“I didn’t forget the buckeyes,” he said. “But yes, you should have told me right away.”
“And I shouldn’t have talked to Austina about it first before I talked to you.”
“Also true,” he agreed.
“Does it help that I’m sorry—really sorry?” I gave him my most dazzling smile. A trick I had learned from my child beauty pageant days.
The right side of his face tilted up in a smile. “A little. The buckeyes helped too.”
“Because I am, and I don’t want my curiosity to ruin what we have.”
“Neither do I.”
“Since you’re being so agreeable,” I said, knowing that I was pushing my luck, “I just have to say I don’t believe that Austina was the one who murdered the bishop. His death has put her bookmobile and career at risk.”
“Neither do I,” he repeated.
I opened my mouth to argue my point further. “Wait—what?”
He leaned back in the armchair across from me. “I don’t think she killed the bishop. After hours of questioning her last night, I’m even more convinced.”
I blinked at him. “Then why did you arrest her?”
“I had to. It’s my job to report the evidence I have to the prosecutor. He felt there was enough there to bring Austina in. It was his call.”
I sat back in the couch, placated. “Does that mean you will let her out?”
“I’m working on it. It would be a lot easier if I could find the real criminal. Right now, the prosecutor wants someone behind bars, and that someone is Austina. He wants to show the Amish that we are doing something about the bishop’s death and that we care.”
I pushed my hair out of my eyes. “I still can’t believe Nahum told you about seeing Austina. He’s usually not that cooperative with the police.” I held up my hand when Mitchell frowned. “I’m not saying he shouldn’t have told you. I’m surprised he did so voluntarily.” Mentally, I added, I wished he hadn’t.
“He didn’t,” Mitchell said. “At least not directly.”
“What does that mean?” I frowned.
He sighed. “Remember when I left your parents’ house during dinner a few nights ago?”
I nodded. “You had trouble with kids using Amish mailboxes as batting practice.”
“Right. Well, we caught the kids, and to lessen the trouble they were in they told us about some illegal poaching with snares they knew about in the woods near Sugartree Street. They saw Nahum setting snares late one night when they were out joyriding.”
It was starting to make sense. “And when you spoke to Nahum about it, he told you about Austina to get some of the heat off of him for the illegal poaching.”
Mitchell nodded.
“So it was each crook trying to save his own hide.”
Mitchell smiled at my use of the word “crook.” “Yes.”
“That’s a pretty sad commentary on society.”
“No honor among thieves,” Mitchell quoted. “Many times we have a break in a case because we catch someone else doing a lesser crime who wants to save him – or herself.” The sheriff chuckled. “I can practically see the wheels turning in your head trying to figure this out. I’m starting to realize I can’t stop you from meddling.” He stood up and walked over to me.
I looked up at him. “You can’t. I need to protect my friends. I can’t stop myself.”
“That’s both endearing and frustrating. Somehow, I will learn to live with it.” He leaned forward and kissed me.
“Gross!” Zander yelled, but Mitchell and I ignored him.
After I left the sheriff’s house, Oliver and I made a quick stop at home, so I could shower and change and check on Dodger.
Dodger was waiting for us when I unlocked the front door. The moment we stepped inside, he arched his back and hissed. As I suspected, he was not pleased by our impromptu sleepover at the sheriff’s house.
I closed the front door and dropped my bag on the floor.
Oliver bowed into downward dog, groveling and begging forgiveness from his feline bestie.
Dodger sniffed and turned his tail, giving both Oliver and me an unpleasant view of his back end. Oliver whined.
“I’ll let you two work it out,” I said as I headed for the stairs.
An hour later, Dodger had deigned to allow Oliver to sit next to him on the living room couch. I hated to break up the duo again, but it was time Oliver and I left for the book sale and dealt with Willow and the bookmobile.
I hoped that the bookmobile would be gone when I turned onto Sugartree Street twenty minutes later. No such luck. The silver-and-green monster sat in the middle of the street in front of the tea shop, backing up traffic for two blocks. Apparently, the stalemate between the Millers and Willow continued.
Cars and buggies crawled down the street toward the pie factory as the massive bookmobile forced traffic down to one lane. I turned left into the community lot in front of the Amish mercantile and parked.
Oliver and I walked the half block to Running Stitch. Mattie stood outside of the shop. “If that bookmobile doesn’t move, we aren’t going to have a single customer today. It’s going to ruin the farmers’ market and the factory’s grand opening too.”
I sighed. “I’ll talk to Willow.”
I picked up Oliver and crossed the street, avoiding both angry English and Amish drivers as I went.
Willow stood in front of her tea shop with her hands on her hips, staring at the bookmobile. She glanced over at me. “Good. You’re here.”
I set Oliver on the sidewalk. “What are you going to do about the bookmobile? It’s hurting business.”
Willow ran her hand through her purple hair. “Maybe you were right. You should move it.”
“Me?” I pointed a thumb at myself. “I don’t know how to drive that thing. It’s a tank.”
Willow frowned. “Do you want me to do it?”
“No!” I yelped. Knowing my luck, Willow would drive the monster vehicle right through the front window of Running Stitch.
“Okay, then,” she pulled the keys out of her jeans pocket. “It’s all yours.”
“You’re nuts. I can’t drive it. The biggest thing I have ever driven was my friend
’s mom’s station wagon when I was sixteen. Trust me, it didn’t go well for the station wagon or for me.”
Willow dangled the keys in front of me. “You don’t have to drive it far. Move it to the end of the street and pull it off the road. Someone from the library can come later to collect it.” She ran a hand over her now dark purple spiky hair. “I think you may have been right about this bookmobile. I have noticed the Amish heading to the farmers’ market have been avoiding it.”
“I’m right for once,” I said. “What a miracle.”
She shook the keys at me. “Don’t get cheeky. Move the bookmobile.”
I stuck my hands on my hips. “Call someone from the library and tell them to collect it now.”
“I already did that. It’s Saturday, and there are only two people there. They can’t leave.” She shrugged.
I wasn’t giving up that easily. “Then call someone else. Call the director at home. I thought you had connections.”
Willow shook her head. “Tried that too. She’s in Cincinnati for the weekend.”
Well, that sounded a little too convenient. I wondered whether the library director made those travel plans after Willow had talked her into lending her the bookmobile. Willow dropped the keys into my hand before I could stop her. “You’ll be fine. I’ll direct traffic so you can get out.” She disappeared around the bookmobile and into the street.
“Willow!” I shouted.
She ignored me.
Oliver and I shared a look. I climbed up the single step to the bookmobile and opened the side door. All the lights were on. Immediately, my eyes went to the spot in the aisle where Bartholomew Beiler’s body had lain. The carpet in that area had been cut out, revealing the metal floor below. I supposed that was better than seeing the bloodstains.
I turned to the cockpit and slipped into the driver’s seat. There were so many levers and buttons, I wondered whether the astronauts drove bookmobiles for practice. It was much closer to a space shuttle than to any car I had ever been in. I put the key in the ignition and turned over the engine.
Behind me, Oliver barked.
“Ollie, I’m trying to figure out how to drive this spaceship.” I flicked on a switch and the windshield wipers ran back and forth over the windshield.
Murder, Plainly Read Page 24