When the Bishop Needs an Alibi

by Vannetta Chapman

  Henry didn’t answer right away. He knew Grayson was his friend, and he trusted him to have his best interests at heart, but he didn’t want to misinterpret. Finally he stood, faced Grayson, and asked, “Are you saying Agent Delaney is involved in this?”

  “I’m saying he could be. Until we find out for certain who the murderer is, who had cause to want Sophia dead, I want you to stay out of it. Lie low.”

  “Lie low?”

  “Stay here on the farm.”

  “I’m a bishop. I can’t hide out here. People in my church need me. I have visits to make and church business to attend to.”

  Grayson wasn’t listening, though. “I’d rather you didn’t live alone, but since you do… Any chance you’d consider keeping a cell phone on you?”

  “I will not.”

  “Figured as much.”

  “Don’t worry about me. Gotte is my protector, and I have Lexi.” Henry’s dog scratched at her collar, lost her balance, and fell off the bench. She wasn’t exactly giving the impression of a guard dog.

  “Henry, this isn’t a lone person who has a screw knocked loose.”

  “Like last time.”

  “This person is nothing like the Monte Vista arsonist. Whoever did this is someone with resources and friends within the law enforcement community. This is big, and I’m going to figure it out. But I need a little more time, which means I need you to stay out of it.”

  “I’m afraid that’s impossible.” And then Henry told the sheriff about Sophia’s sister, the drawings he’d done, and the computer device Emma had gone to fetch.

  Forty-Eight

  When Emma, Tess, and Katie Ann arrived at the farm, they hurried up the porch steps and into the house. Emma introduced Tess to the boys, and then she rushed to the mudroom to search through the dirty laundry.

  Years earlier, Clyde had hammered together a string of bins—one for heavily soiled clothes, another for whites, and a third for towels and sheets.

  “I remember now. I hadn’t washed the apron yet because I was still trying to decide whether to try to mend the hem or use the fabric for a quilt, not that it would matter. Either way it needed to be washed.”

  Stephen and Thomas hadn’t been remotely interested in their Englisch visitor. They remained on the sitting room floor, engrossed in a game of checkers. Silas met them at the door, one question tumbling over another. Katie Ann briefly filled him in on what had happened, and then they followed Emma into the mudroom where the washer was. Tess stood clasping her hands in front of her. Silas crossed his arms and looked ready to take on anyone who threatened his family. Katie Ann hovered in the background, a look of concern on her face.

  Emma was tossing everything from the white clothes bin onto the floor.

  “I have no idea how we can have so much laundry when we just did laundry earlier today. We do laundry every Monday. Where does it all come from? Why wasn’t it here this morning when we were tackling it after Henry’s hearing? Some days I think the boys purposely hide their dirty things and then fill up the basket after we’re done. Must be some strange form of entertainment to watch my eyes grow wider with each piece of soiled—”

  Emma stopped rambling and leaned forward to fetch the last item out of the bin.

  “Is that it?” Tess asked.

  “Ya.”

  “Is the flash drive there?”

  Emma’s hands were shaking as she searched first the right pocket and then the left.

  “Nein. It’s not.”

  “But you said—”

  “I know. It should be here. I remember slipping it into my pocket when Sophia gave it to me.”

  Katie Ann had moved into the room and was watching her grandmother and Tess. “Then it has to be there.”

  “But it’s not.” Emma wanted to sink to the floor and bury her head in her hands. She’d been so sure the device was in her apron pocket. Had she remembered wrong? Had she remembered what she wished had happened instead of what had actually happened? Had Sophia given her the small device, or had she dreamed up the entire thing?

  Katie Ann brushed past her and practically crawled into the bin. She leaned so far into it, nothing was visible but the back of her dress and the soles of her shoes. When she emerged, she was holding up a piece of plastic no larger than a clothespin. “Is this it?”

  “Yes,” Tess said, her voice softer, disbelieving, but wanting to believe. “That’s it.”

  “Must have fallen out of your pocket, Mammi. It was in the far corner of the bin.”

  “Would you like to look at it here?” Emma asked. “With your computer? I think Henry would say it’s okay this once.”

  “No. Once I open whatever is on there, I’m going to want to sit and read it all the way through. And as I said, we might need the Internet too.”

  Katie Ann placed the device in Tess’s hand. “I hope it has the information you need.”

  Tess nodded solemnly, and then she began walking toward the front door. She turned back to Emma suddenly, nearly bumping into her. Emma had her purse slung over her arm.

  “You should stay here,” she said. “Stay with your family.”

  “Katie Ann will do that.”

  “Ya, of course I will.”

  “I’m going with you. It’s better if you’re not alone for such a thing, and you don’t even know where the diner is.”

  “It’s a small town, Emma. I’m sure I can find it.”

  “We’ll go together. Unless you’d rather be alone?”

  Tess glanced up at her, and she had such an expression of vulnerability on her face that Emma’s heart went out to the young woman. She’d been through so much in the last couple of months, and then to learn of her sister’s murder, to realize her brother-in-law’s death wasn’t the result of a mugging, to now feel responsible for finding the killer who’d probably ended both their lives? That was a lot for one person to shoulder.

  “I would like for you to go with me, but I was trying to be polite.”

  Emma nodded, and then she turned to Katie Ann and Silas. “Tell your parents I might be late, and they shouldn’t wait up.”

  “Are you sure that’s a gut idea?” Silas asked.

  “We’ll be fine. We’ll be in the diner. No one would hurt us there.”

  “Okay,” he said, though his tone lacked conviction.

  Emma was at the door when Katie Ann called out, “Promise to be careful.”

  “Of course.”

  As they stepped outside, Clyde pulled up in the buggy.

  “Did you find it?” he asked.

  “Ya. We’re going to the diner now. Don’t wait up for me. Tess or Henry will bring me home when we’re done. You need your sleep.”

  “Be careful, Mamm.” Rachel hopped out of the buggy and embraced Emma.

  It was nice to have her family worry about her, but it wasn’t as if she planned on going to search for the killer in the middle of the night.

  She slid into the front seat of Tess’s car, and they made their way back down the dirt lane, turned onto the county road, and then sped through the darkness.

  Forty-Nine

  Henry pulled his buggy onto the blacktop, his thoughts swirling with everything Grayson had said. What did it mean? Who had the means and the ability and the motive to misdirect a federal investigation? Why would they do so? That one was obvious—so their own actions wouldn’t be scrutinized. Which meant the killer had to be in a position of authority, or he had a close relationship with someone in authority. Either way, that significantly increased the danger and difficulty they were up against.

  He was less than a quarter mile down the road when he became aware of flashing red lights behind him. He pulled on Oreo’s rein, guiding her onto the shoulder, and waited.

  The night was quiet except for the heavy breathing of the mare and footsteps walking toward him in the darkness.

  Agent Delaney flipped on his flashlight, momentarily blinding Henry.

  “Was I speeding, Officer?”

>   Delaney didn’t so much as smile. “I’m the special agent in charge of this investigation, not an officer.” He redirected the light and craned his neck to see better into the buggy, not that there was much to see.

  An old towel lay across the passenger side of the front seat. He’d placed it there for when Lexi rode with him, but despite his concern for her, he’d decided it was more prudent to leave her at home. He had no idea how long he’d be gone, and he didn’t want her waiting in the buggy for hours on end.

  Agent Delaney turned his cold blue eyes to study Henry. “Rather late to be out, especially for an Amish person.”

  “But not against the law.”

  “I didn’t say it was.” He smoothed down his black tie.

  No other vehicles were on the road, and they were still a few miles from town. Henry thought of Grayson’s assertion that Delaney might be involved. Henry had personally come face-to-face with two murderers before. They hadn’t shared any common characteristics. He wouldn’t have known they were capable of taking another life just from their physical appearance. What about this man standing before him now? How could he possibly know if the person in charge of the investigation was working with them or against them?

  “I’d be careful, Mr. Lapp. We can trace you with the monitor you’re wearing. We can follow anywhere you go.”

  “I’m aware.”

  “We’re building a case here.”

  “And it’s my hope you’ll be successful doing so. You’ll have to change the focus of your investigation, though, if you hope to find Sophia’s murderer, because I most certainly did not harm that girl.”

  Delaney stared at him silently. The look on his face said that he did not believe Henry was hoping they’d find the killer. The look—practically disdain—said he was convinced Henry was the guilty person.

  “Why do you think I would do such a thing?”

  “I’ve learned not to doubt what people are guilty of.”

  “And yet you must have some evidence pointing you to me. I’d like to know what it is.”

  “Your lawyer will be made aware of it during the disclosure portion of the trial.”

  “But what if we could solve the murder before then, before this person hurts someone else?”

  “Oh, I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen, because we’re going to be watching you night and day.”

  “A waste of your resources since I’m innocent.”

  “The trial will determine your innocence or guilt. The only reason I’m still here is to collect more evidence and oversee your transfer into federal custody.” He leaned in, as if sharing a secret. “It’s possible the judge may have believed your lawyer’s spiel about you not being a flight risk. Or maybe, like me, he wanted to give you a little rope to better hang yourself.”

  “Hang myself? I assure you I have no intention of incriminating myself in any way.”

  “And yet you’re on this road, late at night, rushing off to something rather urgent by the way you were hurrying down the road.”

  “Again, not against the law unless I was speeding. Was I speeding, Agent Delaney?”

  “I’ve worked more than two hundred cases, Mr. Lapp. When a guilty party—”

  “Which I’m not.”

  “When a guilty party feels the pressure, we typically see three responses—fight, flight, or freeze. We’re simply waiting and watching to see which you choose.”

  Delaney stepped away from the buggy and flicked his hand as if to indicate he was done with the conversation.

  Argue with a fool, and someone watching might not be able to tell the difference.

  As far as Henry could tell, no one was watching, but he was beginning to think Delaney was a fool. He followed his mother’s advice, the old proverb ringing in his ears, and chose not to further engage the man. Instead he called out to Oreo.

  The horse trotted down the road, and Delaney followed, making no attempt to hide his surveillance. Which was fine. All he would see was a meeting at a diner, and it wasn’t as if he’d be able to listen in on the conversation.

  Fifty

  The bright lights of Maggie’s Diner spilled out into the night.

  Henry guided his buggy to the side of the building and then hurried into the diner. He paused to nod once in the direction of Agent Delaney, who had pulled to a stop in front of the building. From the angle of his vehicle, he seemed to have parked so he could see what went on inside. For some reason it was important to Henry that Delaney understand he knew he was being watched and that he wasn’t intimidated by that. He had nothing to hide. He was tempted to invite the agent in to join them.

  Emma and Tess were already sitting at a table on the far side of the room. Henry took the seat opposite Emma, beside Tess. On the chair opposite Tess was the bag with his drawings. He was glad someone had thought to bring them. They still might contain a clue, though he couldn’t imagine what—other than what the Fisher family had already pointed out. Some people appeared in more than one picture. The waitress had brought coffee for each of them, and she said to wave her down if they decided they wanted anything to eat.

  Henry gave them a detailed account of his encounter with Delaney.

  “He might be listening,” Tess admitted. “I haven’t made it a topic of research, but crime shows on television show they can with parabolic microphones and that sort of thing.”

  When Emma and Henry only stared at her, she shook her head. “Don’t worry about it. We can’t allow ourselves to be concerned with him right now. We need to focus on finding Sophia’s killer.”

  “Except there’s a small chance Delaney is involved,” Henry said, his voice low.

  Emma choked on her coffee, and Tess stopped typing on her computer. “Say that again.” Tess closed the top of the laptop and waited, her hands folded on top of it as if in prayer.

  Though he had no idea what a parabolic microphone could or couldn’t pick up, he told the two women about finding Grayson near his barn and shared a concise version of what the sheriff said.

  Quiet descended over the table as the three took a moment to assess what they were up against. Finally, Tess shrugged and opened the computer. “Whether he’s in this or not, I still think the answers are on the flash drive. Why else would Sophia have left it with Emma?”

  “I don’t understand why she would leave anything with me. She barely knew me.”

  “But she trusted you. She trusted you both. That much is obvious.”

  Tess pulled the flash drive from her pocket and slipped it into a slot on the side of the computer. Henry locked eyes with Emma. He wasn’t sure what Tess hoped to find on the device, and he held little hope that Sophia had known the person who murdered her. If she had, she could have avoided being anywhere near him or her. But she was caught by surprise, so how could what was on the device be of any help?

  Emma reached across the table, touched his arm, and pointed toward the front door.

  Jared Anderson had walked into the diner, stopped, and was staring in their direction. But he didn’t approach their table. Instead, he said something to their waitress, and she led him to a booth on the other side of the room.

  “Maybe he’s here for the pie,” Emma said.

  “Or Delaney sent him in here to watch us.”

  Tess glanced up at Anderson, momentarily distracted from whatever was happening on her laptop. “He seemed kind and sympathetic when I met him earlier, but he was so convinced of your guilt. I’m sorry you’ve been caught up in this. I know you didn’t kill Sophia, and I regret that this has disrupted your life.”

  “You have no need to apologize,” Henry assured her.

  Officer Anderson didn’t try to hide the fact that he was staring their way. He did place an order with the waitress without even looking at the menu.

  “He was in three of your pictures.” Emma turned her coffee mug around in her hands. “Do you think that’s significant?”

  “Could be. Or it could be a coincidence.”

  �
��But what would his motive be? Why would he want to kill Sophia? She was a quiet girl. She didn’t cause any trouble. I just can’t imagine why anyone would want to harm her.”

  “It has to all go back to Cooper,” Tess said. “He discovered something, maybe by accident. And whoever was involved was afraid he’d expose them.”

  “Maybe Cooper confronted whoever it was.” Henry was speaking to Tess and Emma, but he continued to watch Officer Anderson. “Maybe he threatened to turn the evidence over to the authorities.”

  “It’s possible,” Tess said, agreeing. “Cooper wrote for nature magazines. He’d been doing it for years, making a modest living, and then recently he hit it big. He had feature pieces in National Geographic, National Parks, National Wildlife, and one in Scientific American. Sophia told me he had more work than he could handle. He was turning down assignments.”

  “He must have been very gut at what he did,” Emma said.

  “He loved nature, and he loved sharing it with the people who read his articles.” Tess blinked rapidly.

  It hurt Henry to see the woman so distraught, so desperate to find the person guilty of her sister’s murder. None of them were detectives, and the only thing that connected them was an affection for Sophia.

  “He thought we were on this too much.” Tess tapped the laptop. “He would tease both me and Sophia about it. She was a blogger, and so all of her writing was done on the computer. It was never actually printed.”

  “And what do you do?” Emma asked.

  “Analyze funds—stocks, things like that. Mainly my work is for large groups of investors, like teacher unions. It’s why I live in New York City, though I suppose I could do it anywhere. Being in the city puts me close to the action.” She shook her head. “It’s as far from what Cooper and Sophia did as night is from day.”

  She returned her attention to her laptop and tapped away for a few minutes. Henry had been trying to remember what was in the drawings he’d done. Anderson had been in three—he was sure Emma was right about that. But what had his expression been? Was he staring at Sophia or past her? He was just about to ask Emma to pull out the drawings when Tess sighed in frustration.