Oliver barked more insistently.
I looked over my shoulder. “What is it?”
He was staring at the back of the bookmobile between two bookshelves. He looked at me and at the bookshelves and back again.
I sighed and got out of my seat. “What is it? A spider?”
I left the keys in the ignition and hurried to the back of the bookmobile. There I found Phoebe Truber tucked in between the shelving.
I knelt in front of her. “Phoebe?”
Her hair had fallen from her prayer cap. Tears streamed down her face, and she held her knees to her chest. “I did it. I can’t keep it secret anymore. I killed the bishop.”
“What? How?”
“I was there when he died.” Her entire body shook.
“Wait.” I held her hand. It was as cold as ice. “Back up. Tell me from the beginning.”
“I can’t.” She squeezed her eyes shut.
An idea struck me. “Tell me like it’s a story in one of your books.”
She brushed a tear from her cheek. “My books are what caused this.”
“Please, Phoebe. What were you doing on the bookmobile that night?”
“Phillip was working late at the pie factory. He had told my sister-in-law that he wanted to perfect his recipe for the pumpkin fluff pie. There was something not right. My brother is a perfectionist when it comes to baking—when it comes to most things—and he was so happy about the new job for the Millers. I hadn’t seen him that happy in a very long time. My sister-in-law sent me into town to bring him dinner because he was gone so long.”
“When was this?” I asked.
“Very late,” she said. “A little after midnight.”
So she had been there just after Austina had dropped off the key for the bishop, albeit unknowingly. “Then what happened?”
She squeezed her eyes closed. “I gave my brother the meal. I didn’t stay long. When I was leaving, I noticed the bookmobile was in the parking lot. I went over to it and tried the door. I don’t know why I did that. I was just curious, I suppose. The door was unlocked, so I went inside. The bishop was there with a canister of gasoline.” She opened her eyes. “I think he was going to burn the bookmobile down.”
The sheriff had been wrong. The gasoline had not been on the bookmobile to cover up the murder. Bartholomew had taken it there himself to set the bookmobile on fire. That’s how he was going to ruin Austina, as he’d promised his daughter.
“I surprised him. He dropped the canister and hit his head on the bookshelf.”
“What part of his head?” I asked.
She touched her forehead. It was the place where I had seen the wound on Bartholomew the morning I had found Austina with the body.
“I—I stood there staring at him bleeding. I didn’t know what to do. Then Phillip came. My bruder must have wondered why my buggy was still in the parking lot and came out to investigate. He saw me with the bishop. He told me that he was dead.” She took a shuddered breath. “He said he would take care of it and made me promise not to tell anyone what had happened. I tried. I tried to keep it a secret.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “But I can’t anymore.”
Something was wrong about her account. “The bishop only hit his head once on the front of his head?”
“Ya.” She nodded.
My forehead wrinkled. There had been two wounds on the bishop’s head. The sheriff had been very clear on the point. The first wound matched up to the one Phoebe described, but it had not been the one that killed him. The one that killed him had been the one on the back of his head. That meant someone finished the job after Phoebe left, and there had been only one other conscious person inside the bookmobile. Her brother.
The side door of the bookmobile opened. I looked back to the door, expecting to see Willow. Instead I saw Phoebe’s brother, Phillip, standing in the aisle holding a gun.
Chapter Forty
My first thought was Oliver. I didn’t see him, and I prayed that he had found someplace to hide. “Phillip, what are you doing?” I jumped to my feet.
“Shut up,” he said.
Phoebe struggled to her feet. “I told her the truth. I told her that I killed the bishop.” She lowered her eyes. “I am sorry, bruder. I could not keep the secret any longer.”
“Don’t say anymore,” her brother snapped.
“Don’t worry,” Phoebe said. “I will take all the blame. I will tell the police you had nothing to do with it.”
Phillip gripped the gun in his hand. “Don’t tell them anything.”
“That’s because he’s the one who killed the bishop,” I said.
“Nee, I am.” Phoebe shook her head. “I have just told you.”
“I know you believe that you murdered the bishop, Phoebe.” I kept my eyes on Phillip as I spoke. “But he didn’t die from hitting his head on the bookshelf. He died from a second blow to the back of his head, one your brother gave him after you left. Right, Phillip? What did you use, Phillip? A rock you found in the woods? What did you do with it after you killed the bishop?”
He leveled the gun at my head and walked toward me. “Phoebe, come here.”
Shaking, his sister stepped around me.
He handed her a roll of duct tape. “Tape up her hands.”
“Bruder?” Phoebe whispered.
His lip curled into a sneer. “Do it.”
I backed away. “No way.”
He moved the gun to his sister’s head. “If you don’t let her tie your hands, I start shooting, beginning with my own sister.”
I held out my hands.
He shook his head. “Behind her back.”
“I’m sorry,” Phoebe said as she walked around me.
I glared at him. “Did you hate Bartholomew Beiler so much that you saw an opportunity to get rid of him and took it?”
“Ya, I hated him,” he snapped. “Everyone in the district hated him. He was a terrible man. I refused to believe Gott chose him as our bishop, but he and I were fine until recently. He left me alone, and I returned the favor. Then he threatened to shun me.”
Phoebe’s hands shook as she wrapped the tape around my wrists. I held my wrists apart, hoping that would make the tape looser. “Why would he shun you?”
“He said that Gott told him it was wrong for me to work for the Millers because they were pagan New Order Amish. He said that I had to leave my job or he would shun me and the entire family.” He shuddered.
Phoebe gasped.
“Now tape her to the bookcase,” Phillip ordered Phoebe.
Phoebe placed a hand on my shoulder, moving me close to the bookcase and did as he asked.
“What are you going to do now?” I asked.
“Leave. I don’t have any other choice, but I will get rid of you first.” He looked around the bookmobile.
“Where’s that dog that’s always with you?” Phillip asked.
I shivered. “He’s at home.” I prayed Oliver had found the perfect hiding space.
He squinted at me. “You have a very nice home. I was impressed with the backyard when I was there.”
I felt sick to my stomach. “You’ve been watching my house?”
He smiled. “I know your reputation in this county for meddling in Amish business. I had to make sure that you weren’t meddling in mine. Imagine my disappointment when I discovered that you were.”
Now I knew without a doubt that Phillip had been the Peeping Tom watching my house.
He pointed the gun at my chest again. “I hoped that you would give up, but you just kept turning up. When I saw you at the pie tasting, I knew it would come to this eventually. We would have been fine if you had just let it be. No one misses Bishop Beiler.”
“What about his daughter Faith?” I asked. “And the rest of his family?”
He moved the gu
n slightly. “They are better off now that he’s gone. Like the rest of us, they can make up their own minds now without the bishop looking over their shoulders.”
I swallowed. “You can’t just drive away with me in the bookmobile. Willow is outside the bus. She won’t let you do it.”
He laughed. “She’s too busy talking to tourists to notice what is going on, and she happens to be terrible at directing traffic. She didn’t even notice when I climbed onto the bus.” He turned, headed to the front of the bookmobile, and climbed into the driver’s seat. Before I knew what was happening, the bookmobile started to move.
Through the walls of the bookmobile I could hear horns honking as we pulled away from the curb. I couldn’t let Phillip take me somewhere to kill me. I knew that Phoebe wasn’t safe either.
I gave Phoebe a pleading look. “Untie me,” I hissed.
“I am sorry. I can’t.” She closed her eyes and shook her head like a toddler refusing to eat her carrots. “He is my bruder. I must do what he tells me to.”
“Not when it’s wrong,” I whispered. “He’s not a good man. He was willing to let you believe you killed someone so he could get away with the crime. If he loved you, he wouldn’t have done that.”
“He didn’t have a choice. He would have been shunned.” She opened her eyes wide. “It would have ruined him and the entire family.”
“Killing someone is better than being shunned?” I wanted to smack her upside her head, and I just might have if my hands hadn’t been taped to the bookshelf behind my back.
“Is everything all right, Phoebe? Is she tied up?” Phillip glared at us over his shoulder.
“Ya, bruder,” she called to him. She stood on shaky legs.
The bookmobile shook, and paperbacks went flying from their shelves. A huge history book fell to the floor next to me. I toppled over onto my side. I flopped like a beached fish, but at least toppling over broke me free from being taped to the bookshelves. Phoebe sat back down beside me with her eyes squeezed shut.
“When did you learn to drive? Rumspringa?” I shouted at Phillip.
“Be quiet,” Phillip ordered.
I had to reach Oliver so that we could escape before we left Sugartree Street. Just beyond the factory, there would be enough open land to run at Phillip to make him stop the bookmobile without crashing into any storefronts or pedestrians.
“Phoebe,” I whispered. “You have to untie me.”
I had use of my feet, but I would much rather face off with Phillip with all four of my limbs in working order.
She squeezed her eyes shut and tears leaked out. “I don’t know what to do.” She added something in Pennsylvania Dutch that I didn’t understand.
I scooted closer to her. “Untie me.”
“Nee,” she whispered. “It will make him angry.”
“Who cares!” I hissed. “He’s already angry. Do you think everything will go back to normal for you after he kills me? You will be a witness. Phillip will go to prison when he’s caught—and trust me, Sheriff Mitchell will catch him—and you will go too for being an accomplice.”
“I’m not an accomplice,” she whispered.
“You tied me up, so that makes you one.”
She mumbled in her language again.
We were running out of time. When Phillip hit the open road, he would pick up speed, and it would be too late to escape. “Just untie me already,” I said.
She took her gaze off the back of Phillip’s head for a split second. Her eyes were the size of Ping-Pong balls.
“Phoebe, please. I’ll tell him that I untied myself,” I said.
She scooted over to me, staring forward the entire time on the lookout for any reaction from her brother. “The tape is too tight,” she said. “It’s hurting my fingers.”
“Think how it feels for me. Now do it!” My voice was sharp, but the circumstances called for it.
The tape loosened. I could rotate my wrists. Soon I didn’t feel the tape at all. My hands ached with the sudden rush of blood to my fingertips. My right wrist throbbed almost as badly as the knot on my forehead. “I’m going to make him stop the bookmobile. When he stops, you need to run out. Don’t stop—just go. Find someone to call for help.”
“What about you?” she whispered.
“I will get out too, but don’t wait for me.” I mentally added, I hope.
She nodded.
I struggled to my feet, clasping my hands behind me as if they were still tied together. It was no easy task with the bookmobile lurching back and forth.
“Sit back down,” Phillip ordered.
I grabbed a hardback book, an encyclopedia of food, off the shelf. It wasn’t much of a weapon, but it was the biggest one in reach.
“Sit back down!” Phillip cried again.
I glared at him. “Make me.”
Phillip’s back stiffened.
I stumbled toward the front of the bookmobile.
“Sit down!” he ordered.
The bookmobile began to slow. He was going to stop it. This would be my one and maybe only chance to escape. As soon as the bookmobile came to a stop, I waved at Phoebe and pointed at the door. She took a second to collect herself, but then ran to the front, passing me as she went.
Suddenly, Phillip screamed as the bookmobile pitched to the side, rolling onto uneven ground. I fell forward, dropping the book as I tumbled to the floor. I grunted as my arm connected with hard metal. My right elbow would have a nice bruise from the tumble, but at least I had managed not to hit my head.
I was about to struggle to my feet when there was a horrible crunching sound. The vehicle shuddered. Books flew off the shelves, and I curled into a ball on my side, protecting my head with my arms. Paperbacks bounced off my back.
The bookmobile came to a stop. We’d crashed into something hard. Maybe a tree.
I uncurled my body, pushing away the books that had landed on me during the crash. I stumbled to my feet. Phoebe was on the floor just a foot from the door. She groaned but sat up.
Phillip’s shouts pulled my attention away from his sister.
“Get it off of me. It’s biting my ankle!” Phillip screamed.
There was thrashing at the front of the bookmobile, and I heard a dog yelp.
Oliver!
I scooped up the encyclopedia and charged, knocking Phillip on the back of the head with it.
Phillip grunted and his hand flew to the back of his head. I could see Oliver at Phillip’s feet. He let go of Phillip’s ankle and wriggled out from under the dashboard.
“Oliver,” I said encouragingly. He slipped through the break between the two front seats, but it was tight and he got stuck.
Phillip moaned. “You hit me.” He sounded almost offended by it. The man had his sister tie me up, kidnapped me with the intention of killing me, and he’s offended that I hit him on the back of the head with a book. I resisted the urge to give him another whack with the hardback.
Behind me, Phoebe did as instructed and ran out of the bookmobile. Oliver wriggled in the tight spot between the seats, but couldn’t seem to escape. He whimpered. I dropped the book and crouched by his head. I wrapped my hands around his broad chest and yanked. He didn’t budge, but after two more strong yanks, Oliver flew out of the spot. I landed on my back with the Frenchie on my chest. There was no time to celebrate. We still had to get out of the bookmobile. I scrambled to my feet and was about to scoop up Oliver when I spotted Phillip’s gun on the floor under the passenger seat. I snatched it from the floor and picked up Oliver.
Phillip unbuckled his seat belt and started to stand. I took that as my cue to get out of there. I threw open the door and jumped out. I landed on the grass near a cluster of trees. It took me a second to realize that we were at the edge of the woods behind the pie factory. That gave me an idea. I slipped into the trees just as Phi
llip jumped out of the bookmobile. Blood ran down his face.
I fled into the woods, holding Oliver like a football under my arm and Phillip’s gun in the other. I concentrated on keeping my fingers as far away from the trigger as possible. Shooting someone was not part of my plan.
I knew exactly where I was going. I didn’t run too fast, because I wanted Phillip to be able to track me, and his footsteps were unsure since he was still recovering from the crash. From the blood on his face, I wondered whether he’d hit his head on the steering wheel.
Running through the trees, I went directly to the place where Nahum had set his rabbit snares. I could see the glisten of wire. It was something I wouldn’t have noticed if I didn’t know it was there.
I stopped and stood on the other side of the snare. Phillip ran at me with murder in his eyes. I jumped back, and his foot landed right where I needed it to. The snare sprung, and Phillip fell to the forest floor, screaming.
I hobbled to a stump a few yards away. Oliver lay on my lap.
“I’ll kill you,” Phillip yelled at me.
I frowned at him. Between the dog bite, head injury, and now Nahum’s snare, I was betting Phillip was hurting pretty bad. Sadly, I didn’t have much sympathy for him since he had attacked me.
I set Phillip’s gun in the grass, happy to be rid of it, and pulled my cell phone out of my pocket to call the sheriff.
“Where are you?” Mitchell demanded. His voice was strained.
“I have a reason for you to release Austina,” I told him over the phone. “Can you meet me in the woods behind the pie factory?”
Before the call ended, I could already hear the sirens over Phillip’s curses. Phoebe stepped out of the trees and stared at her brother.
I jumped to my feet, still holding Oliver. “Phoebe, are you all right?”
“This all happened because I read books?” she asked me with tears in her eyes.
Before I could answer, Mitchell, Anderson, and what looked like the rest of the sheriff’s department arrived. Mitchell took one look at me and gave a huge sigh of relief. He was relieved now. He’d be angry and frustrated later, but since he loved me, I knew he’d get over it.
Murder, Plainly Read Page 25