When the Bishop Needs an Alibi

by Vannetta Chapman

  “The flowers are part of Naomi’s job,” Katie Anne said. “She picks them on her way to work. Since she walks, it isn’t a problem.”

  “What will they do in the winter?”

  Katie Ann shrugged, and they shuffled forward as a woman clutching her purchase turned away from the register, a smile on her face.

  Apparently, people couldn’t pass their money over the counter fast enough.

  Muffins for two dollars each. A loaf of bread for five. The widows had uncovered a gold mine!

  But what struck Emma were the heavenly smells that saturated the place—cinnamon, nutmeg, fresh bread, baked apples. She could close her eyes and pick them out one by one. As they moved closer to the counter, Emma could see two of her friends.

  Franey Graber was carrying a large tray of freshly baked pastries to place inside the display counter. She wasn’t smiling exactly, but neither was she frowning. It would seem her nickname, Frowning Franey, was in danger of being replaced with something sunnier. Success could do that to a person, or maybe it was having something to look forward to each day. Franey had been abandoned by her husband years before. Technically, he had filed for divorce, which was recognized in the Englisch court system but not in Amish communities. It had been a burden for Franey to bear—that was obvious to all who knew her—and yet today she seemed to have a little pep in her step.

  Nancy Kline was running the register. She rang up customers’ purchases after Naomi Miller pulled whatever item the customer requested and tucked it into a white bakery sack. Nancy had a smile for everyone. She was the natural choice from among the three widows to interact with the public. It occurred to Emma that Nancy could be a model for one of the Amish books Rachel loved to read. A white kapp covered her curly gray hair, her cheeks were a healthy pink from the heat of the kitchen, and a fresh white apron covered her dark-blue dress. She looked like everyone’s grandma—everyone’s Amish grandma.

  Ruth Schwartz was the third widow, and Emma couldn’t see her, but she could hear her. Ruth was a real talker. She was no doubt manning the drive-through window, which didn’t seem too wise to Emma. No wonder the cars were backed up around the building. She heard Ruth ask if the customer thought it would rain more, and then saw Franey roll her eyes as she carried another tray to the front.

  Despite their differences, the widows seemed to have hit a real home run. Englischers loved freshly baked goods. Who didn’t? Emma’s stomach growled, and she stepped to the left to get a good look at the pastry case. Maybe it was because she’d moved that she could hear the Englisch woman’s comment directed to Naomi, the same woman who had spoken to Katie Ann about the proverb.

  “Real shame about the girl from Maggie’s Diner.”

  “Ya.”

  “Read all about it in the paper.”

  “Can I get you anything else?”

  The woman asked for a half dozen oatmeal cookies, and then she leaned forward to whisper in a too-loud voice. “Heard she was a friend of your bishop’s.”

  Naomi finished writing the woman’s order on a receipt pad, pulled off the top sheet a little roughly, and placed it on top of the sack with a definitive pat that must have squished the cookies.

  “Nancy will check you out.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry if I offended you, dear. It’s natural to feel protective of someone you know, but how well do we ever know anyone? Maybe you think your neighbor is simply an introvert who likes to watch television and complete Sudoku puzzles, and then you find out he’s a serial killer. People are unpredictable.”

  Instead of answering the woman, Naomi turned her attention to the next customers, who happened to be Emma and Katie Ann.

  They placed their order, and Emma waited for the woman in the suit to move down to the cash register. Then she leaned forward and asked, “Have you been dealing with that all day?”

  “I have without a doubt heard all the questions I care to on the subject. My patience is about gone.”

  “Is that why it’s so crowded?”

  “Don’t know, but if it is, I’d just as soon they go home.”

  Emma patted her hand and moved toward Nancy. Katie Ann lingered to say something to Naomi.

  “I haven’t seen you in here before, Emma. That’ll be seven dollars and fifty-two cents.”

  Emma placed a ten-dollar bill on the counter. “Are they all talking about Henry?”

  “About half of them are.”

  “Did they mention him in the paper?”

  “You know I don’t read the Monte Vista Gazette. The Budget is gut enough for me.”

  “I suppose.”

  But as they walked out of the bakery, Emma spied a newspaper vending machine across the street. She sent Katie Ann across with fifty cents to fetch her a copy, and when she saw what was on the first page, she knew she wouldn’t be heading straight home.

  Thirty-Four

  Katie Ann read the article to Emma as they drove toward Henry’s.

  When she’d finished, they were pulling down his lane. “Perhaps you could take Lexi to the barn so I can talk with Henry.”

  “Mammi, I’m not a child anymore.”

  “Of course you’re not.”

  “I would love to see Oreo, though. Maybe I could give her a gut brushing in case Henry hasn’t had time.”

  “An excellent idea.”

  “Promise to tell me whatever he says?”

  Emma sighed. It wasn’t just that Katie Ann was nearly grown. The problem was that she now expected trouble to be lurking around every corner. That was what the Monte Vista arsonist had done to her granddaughter—he had stolen her innocent outlook on life. Unfortunately, her cautious attitude made sense, which was what bothered Emma. She wanted a Plain and simple life for Katie Ann.

  “I promise.”

  Henry was in his workshop, sanding a small table. Katie Ann said hello and then asked for and received his permission to check on the buggy mare.

  “Your granddaughter is a gut girl,” he said as she slipped out the back door.

  “Ya, she is. But Henry, we didn’t stop by so Katie Ann could see the mare. Have you read today’s paper?” She pulled the newspaper out of her handbag, unfolded it, and placed it on the workbench, facing him.

  “Can’t say I have.”

  “Sophia’s murder made the front page.”

  “No surprise there.”

  “Ya, but they’re hinting that you had something to do with it. Read this part.” She stabbed the newspaper with her finger. “How can they say such things? Why would they say such things?”

  She walked around the table so she was standing beside him and could read as he did. Somehow it was even worse seeing the words in print than it had been when Katie Ann read them aloud to her.

  According to Roscoe Delaney, an agent with the FBI, the bureau has received several credible leads from the tip hotline. When asked if they had a suspect in the murder of Ms. Brooks, Delaney replied, “No comment,” but he went on to say they were waiting on lab results, including fingerprint and DNA samples. “Our methods are quite scientific, and that’s one thing criminals can’t refute—physical evidence. The public can rest assured that we will find the person who did this, and they will be brought to justice.”

  Crime scene crews were seen at the home of the local Amish bishop, Henry Lapp. According to anonymous sources, Mr. Lapp had a relationship with Ms. Brooks, though the nature of that relationship remains unclear. “Although Amish are typically viewed as nonviolent, it’s not unheard of for an Amish person to be convicted of murder,” said a source close to the investigation. “Edward Gingerich was convicted of killing his wife in 1993. Anyone is capable of taking another life.”

  When asked if Mr. Lapp was a suspect in the murder investigation, Sheriff Grayson said he could not comment on an ongoing investigation and referred us back to the FBI agent in charge, Delaney.

  Agent Delaney had no comment.

  “No comment! He might as well have said you’re guilty.”

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nbsp; Henry glanced at her, eyebrows raised. But instead of answering, he folded the paper and placed it back in her hands.

  “That part about Edward Gingerich makes me so mad. That man was ill—mentally and emotionally—”

  “And spiritually.”

  “Ya. He wasn’t in his right mind. Even the courts said so. The way they make it sound, Plain folks are lining up right and left to kill one another. Henry, they cannot do this to you. It’s not right. They’re slandering your name with absolutely no proof.”

  “The gem cannot be polished without friction, nor the man perfected without trials.”

  “Do not quote proverbs to me.”

  Henry ducked his head, smiled, and said, “I know the plans I have for you…plans to prosper you and not to harm you—”

  “Plans for a hope and a future. Ya, I know the Scriptures, but I’m scared.” Tears stung her eyes, and Emma turned toward the open doorway to brush them away.

  Henry gave her a minute, and then he said, “Let’s walk to the barn and see how Katie Ann is getting on with Oreo.”

  Katie Ann stood in the middle of the pasture, brushing the mare down with sure, strong strokes. The sun shone down on them both and on Lexi, who sat studying them with her head on her paws. The sight calmed Emma’s heart and helped to dispel the panic that threatened to overtake her.

  “You’re a gut freind, Emma.”

  “I care about you. We all care about you.”

  “Ya. Gotte has blessed me with a gut community—people who will stand by me and believe in me.”

  “You’re telling me dark days are ahead.”

  “I fear it’s true.”

  “Why, Henry? Why did you have to be the one to find her? Why did someone kill her? And why are we again involved with the Englisch police?”

  Henry waited a moment and then crossed his arms on the wooden fence and cast a sideways gaze at her. “I hope you’re not expecting an answer.”

  “Not really—nein.”

  “Gut, because I’m fresh out of answers.”

  “You’re calmer, though. Calmer than you were yesterday.”

  “I’ve had time to pray on it and study the Scriptures.”

  “Including Jeremiah.”

  “Ya, always a favorite book of mine. Jeremiah lived through the siege and destruction of Jerusalem, and yet he remained convinced of Gotte’s goodness.”

  “I know the plans I have for you…”

  “Jeremiah didn’t doubt Gotte even when the world around him descended into chaos.”

  “As has ours.”

  “Indeed.”

  Katie Ann led Oreo in a half circle so she could stand on her bucket and brush the other side. The horse seemed perfectly content to stay there, wait patiently, and allow Katie Ann to care for her. As for Katie Ann, she’d momentarily forgotten their worries—Emma could tell as much from her posture and the way her laugh rang out across the pasture. Emma believed God had a plan for her granddaughter, a good plan. But she didn’t understand why Henry was once again going through a terrible time. He was a decent man and had been faithful to God, to his calling.

  Yet if she believed God didn’t make mistakes…

  “You’re deep in thought over there,” Henry said.

  “I just don’t understand.”

  “But we don’t have to understand. We’re not even called to understand. We only have to remain faithful.”

  “What will you do?”

  “Finish the nightstand I was working on, take Lexi for a walk, minister to our congregation—”

  “You know what I mean. What will you do about the investigation?”

  “I can’t do anything as far as the Englischers are concerned. I have a meeting later this afternoon with the church leadership, including Clyde, in case I’m unable to perform my duties.”

  “You mean in case you’re arrested.”

  “Ya. That’s what I mean.” Henry turned and clasped her hands. “You’ll keep the faith, right, Emma? You’ll promise me that you will remain optimistic, that you won’t allow what’s happening to damage your trust in God’s goodness, that you’ll pray for me and for the officers involved as well?”

  “Of course.”

  Henry paused, searched her eyes, and then smiled. “Gut. Together we will see what Gotte has in store.”

  As they waited for Katie Ann to finish with the horse, they talked of church and crops and the weather. It should have settled Emma’s nerves to speak of everyday things. Instead she felt an overwhelming sadness building in her soul, like storm clouds on the horizon.

  She didn’t want Henry to go through more hardship.

  She didn’t want to be separated from him, and she certainly wanted him to be able to continue as their bishop.

  As she drove away, Emma’s thoughts shifted to how to keep Henry out of jail. He didn’t kill Sophia Brooks. Someone else did. They didn’t have to find the person responsible. They only had to cast enough doubt to turn the investigator’s attention somewhere else.

  Thirty-Five

  Leroy Kauffmann pushed away from the table, crossed his arms, and frowned at no one in particular. “It makes no sense—financially—for the investigators to pursue this course. In the end, they’ll have to backtrack. It’s a terrible waste of time and resources.”

  “I happen to agree with you.” Henry reached down to pet Lexi, who was sleeping at his feet. “Unfortunately, I appear to be their best suspect.”

  “From what I heard in town, you’re their only suspect.” Abe pushed up his glasses. “Incompetent. That’s what they are.”

  “And yet they must have found something.” Clyde rubbed a hand across his jaw. “I’m not saying they’re right. We all know Henry didn’t do this, but they must have found some evidence that pointed to you.”

  “Like what?” Leroy asked. “What could they possibly have found?”

  “You admit that you gave Sophia a ride in your buggy, so they will have found her prints there.” Abe leaned toward Henry. “So what? Why would it matter?”

  “It’s not as if you were alone with her.” Clyde sat up straighter. “There’s something you’re not telling us. Out with it, Henry. I know that look, which seems to say you’re trying to protect us from something.”

  “I didn’t tell Delaney that Emma was with me when I picked up Sophia.”

  “What?” Clyde’s voice rose in alarm. “Why not?”

  “First of all, because he didn’t ask me if anyone else was with me. Second, I don’t want her pulled into this if it can be helped.”

  “But Henry, Emma proves you weren’t alone with Sophia.”

  “Which only speaks to my reputation, something I trust you all have faith in. No, the alibi I need is for Wednesday morning. Unfortunately, I was completely alone then.”

  “And you think they will arrest you?”

  “Probably at our social tomorrow for maximum effect.” Because they had a church meeting only every other week, on the off weeks they often met together for a time of fellowship. Usually this occurred at several different homes, but Henry thought it might be best if this once they all met together. Leroy, Abe, and Clyde quickly agreed.

  “We stand as a united body,” Abe said. “Best to show that in an obvious way.”

  “We’ll have the women spread the word, and I’ll talk to Lewis.” Leroy sat back, a smile playing on his lips. “Let him know to expect a crowd.”

  “I still don’t understand why the investigators are wasting their time on you.” Clyde looked completely miserable.

  Henry felt sorry that his friends, his deacons, were having to deal with this. He felt bad that the entire congregation would once again be thrust into the middle of a murder investigation, but he believed—with all his heart—that God had a purpose even in this.

  “They’ll want to make a big splash for the newspapers, which will probably sell more copies than arresting me while I’m sanding in my workshop.” He sat back, certain he was on the right track, though he
wished it wasn’t so. “There’s another reason. By arresting me publicly, they’ll be trying to shake your confidence in me.”

  “Proving they don’t understand Plain folk.”

  “The reason I called you here was to prepare you for what might happen. There’s always a chance I could be wrong, that the investigation has spiraled in another direction.”

  “Don’t worry about the community.” Leroy stood, pushed in his chair, and straightened his shoulders. “If this happens, and I pray it doesn’t, we will take up the slack as far as responsibilities go.”

  “I know Katie Ann will be happy to take care of Oreo and Lexi,” Clyde said.

  “We’ll make up a schedule for visiting these folks.” Abe folded the paper Henry had given him. “We’ll take care of it, Henry.”

  “Services will continue as normal,” Clyde assured him.

  “I appreciate your willingness to jump in to help. I hope you know I consider each of you more than a deacon. I consider each of you a gut freind.”

  “A friend loves at all times.”

  “And a brother is born for a time of adversity.”

  “Proverbs, I believe. Seventeenth chapter and seventeenth verse.”

  Henry wanted to laugh then. The three men standing in front of him had managed to calm any anxiety he felt and bring joy to his heart.

  As they walked outside, Henry glanced up and marveled at the night sky. So much natural beauty, so much of God’s grace, despite the evilness of man. Perhaps there was a sermon in that.

  Henry received a warm welcome at their fellowship the next day. Time and again he was patted on the back, advised not to worry, and promised that prayers were being uttered on his behalf. The day was bright and sunny, as most days in the valley were, but the air had a hint of fall. Temperatures were expected to drop overnight.