“Claire?” The detective’s smile slipped from his mouth as his gaze traveled across her head and narrowed in on Benjamin before coming to rest on Esther. He reached out, grabbed hold of a nearby shelf for support. “Martha?”
Esther’s gasp brought Benjamin to her side, the Amish man’s lean yet muscular stature creating a buffer of protection between Jakob and the niece he’d never met.
“This is not Martha,” Benjamin said in a voice suddenly devoid of all warmth.
“But it looks just like her,” Jakob whispered.
“It is not.”
Anxious to wipe the pain from the detective’s eyes, she rushed to fill in the gap Benjamin and Esther left open. “This is Esther … Martha’s daughter.”
“Martha’s daughter,” he echoed. “My … my niece.”
“Martha’s daughter,” Benjamin corrected.
Jakob pulled his hand from the shelf and fisted it at his side. “Which makes her my niece, doesn’t it?”
Feeling the tension magnifying tenfold, Claire stepped forward, positioning herself between the detective and his past. “I imagine you’re here about what happened …”
When he didn’t respond, she tried again. “The crime scene out back has to do with Walter Snow, doesn’t it?”
It was as if she’d thrown a bucket of ice water over his head, startling him from a long-ago path of regret and anguish and setting him on one he could still master. “That’s right. But first I have to ask what you’re doing here.”
“This is my shop.”
“Your shop …” His words gave way momentarily to a knowing smile. “You mean the place you dreamed about for years but only recently found the courage to grab hold of?”
She felt the pang in her chest at his ability to hear and remember—almost verbatim—their conversation at the police station. What guy did that?
Not Peter …
With a quick shake of her head, she willed herself to focus on the man standing in front of her rather than the one clouding her past. She found her smile. “Welcome to Heavenly Treasures.”
He looked past her to Benjamin and Esther. “Thank you.”
“So what happened?”
Pulling his gaze from his former life, he fixed it, instead, on Claire. “Last night, around six o’clock, this building’s former shopkeeper was found dead out back, not more than a few feet from the alleyway between here and the bake shop. He was a victim of foul play.”
She brought her hands to her mouth and looked at the detective across her fingertips. “Who? How?”
“The how is easy. He was strangled. But we’re still actively working on the who behind the crime. And that’s why I’m here, Claire.”
It was her turn to grab for a shelf, her turn to wish Benjamin’s strong form would move in to protect her …
Benjamin did not disappoint. “Miss Weatherly did not kill Mr. Snow.”
Jakob’s hand stilled, midflip of his notebook, irritation marring his otherwise-attractive features. “Did I say she did?”
“You are here to question her, no?”
“I’m here to ask her questions. There’s a difference, Benjamin.”
“I see no difference.”
“You never do.” Jakob fixed his gaze back on Claire. “The estimated time of death has Mr. Snow’s murder within an hour of his body being found.”
“Okay …”
“I assume your shop closes at five like the rest of the shops on Lighted Way?”
She nodded.
“Well, since you were at Diane’s about that time, can you tell me who handled the closing of this place?”
“Esther did.”
Jakob peered around Claire. “Then I will need to speak with Esther.”
An audible gasp emerged from Esther’s mouth. “I can not. Mamm would not allow it.”
“I’d be speaking to you as a police officer, not as your … uncle.” Jakob raked his free hand through his hair.
Esther stepped closer to Benjamin, worry and fear evident in every nuance of her young face. “Mamm will never forgive me, Benjamin.”
“Your mom can be with you,” Jakob suggested softly.
“No!” Esther grabbed hold of Benjamin’s arm. “I can not do that to Mamm.”
Claire rested a hand on Jakob’s arm, his tension rising up beneath her fingers as she addressed her young friend. “Esther, would it help if I stayed with you?”
Esther looked from Claire to Benjamin and back to Claire before finally settling on Jakob. “I would like Claire to be with me.”
Jakob offered an encouraging smile. “Of course. I don’t need to take you to the police station, Esther. I just have a few basic questions that I can ask you right here.”
“Basic?” Esther echoed.
“Like this one,” Jakob said as he flipped to a clean page in his notebook. “Did you notice anything unusual in the alleyway when you were closing up?”
Esther considered the question. “I did not. I took the trash to the outdoor bin and saw …”
Jakob looked up as Esther quit talking. “What did you see?”
Knowing the answer, Claire encouraged Esther to continue. “Tell him, Esther. It’s okay.”
Esther peeked at Benjamin through long lashes. “I … I saw Eli.”
A slight smile tugged Jakob’s lips upward. “Benjamin’s brother?”
“Yes,” Esther whispered.
“How is he?”
“Very well, thank you.”
Claire grinned at Esther’s sweet reply.
“Did the two of you talk?”
“Talk?” Esther repeated.
“Yes. Did you have a conversation?”
“We did.”
“May I ask what you talked about?” Jakob asked.
“He asked about my day. And I told him.” Claire stood up straight as a cloud passed across Esther’s face. “He … He got very—”
Bells jingled over the door once again, preventing Esther from finishing a sentence Claire wasn’t sure she should finish. Grateful for the momentary reprieve, she turned toward the fiftysomething woman standing in the doorway.
“Good morning. Welcome to Heavenly Treasures.”
Pushing past Claire, the overly made-up woman planted herself between Jakob and Esther, eyes blazing. “Detective Fisher?”
“Yes? And you are?”
“Mrs. Snow. Mrs. Nellie Snow.” Bypassing Jakob’s hand, the woman pointed at Benjamin. “I want you to arrest that man and his brother, Eli.”
Benjamin stumbled backward, shocked. “Why? What did I do?”
“You and that brother of yours killed my husband. You killed my Walter!”
Chapter 7
In Claire’s experience, a person was hard-pressed to know much about another human being inside twenty-four hours. It simply wasn’t enough time to learn the kinds of things that mattered. Those things came with time. Sometimes painfully so.
Jakob Fisher, however, broke that mold.
In fact, the list of things she’d discerned about the detective since dropping off his welcome-to-Heavenly gift at the station the day before was growing. Quickly.
There were the basics, of course—the sandy blond hair, the amber-flecked hazel eyes, the strong arms, the tall form. But there was also the deeper stuff, the kinds of things that Peter had failed to display after five years, let alone one day.
Yet of all the things she’d seen crossing paths with Jakob, the scene unfolding in front of her eyes was by far the most impressive. Sure, his reaction to her gift had been refreshing. So, too, was the way he listened and remembered things she said. But the clarity of thought and bent toward kindness he showed during a high-stress moment said the most. The fact that the same attributes appeared to have been noticed by Benjamin Miller and Esther King, of all people, only served to strengthen his character.
Claire glanced around Esther’s chair and studied the woman who had blown into Heavenly Treasures with nothing more than wild accusations and a
n ax to grind. Nellie Snow was the proverbial wounded soul. Her husband of twenty years had skipped town on her a month earlier amid a hailstorm of finger-pointing from the Amish community. But rather than consider the notion that her precious Walter had stolen thousands and thousands of dollars from these same people, Nellie placed the blame on them.
Walter hadn’t stolen their money and run, she claimed.
No, the Amish had concocted an elaborate plan to drive an honest businessman from town for some other nefarious reason. What that reason was, Nellie claimed, was Jakob’s job to determine. But when it came to her husband’s murder, she had the suspects all picked out.
“Now tell me again why you believe Benjamin and Eli were behind your husband’s murder, Mrs. Snow?” Jakob asked, pausing to rake his hand through his hair before listening to a tirade that simply didn’t hold water when it came to the Amish.
Nellie took a slow, deliberate inhale, her broad shoulders rising and falling as she did. Then, with pointed finger, she gestured at a wide-eyed yet silent Benjamin Miller. “That man there, he was the one who came into Walter’s shop and accused him of stealing money. Why, he said my husband sold their handmade furniture and chests and pocketed all the money for himself.”
“That is because he did,” Benjamin said, his voice wary yet firm.
Nellie’s chin jutted into the air. “If he had, he would have spent it on me. On clothes and fine restaurants, love letters and trips.”
“There were letters but not for her,” Esther whispered above the soft clatter of her own teeth.
Claire’s hand stilled on the young woman’s shoulder. “What was that, Esther?”
Esther’s eyes widened as the clattering stopped, the rhythmic sound quickly replaced by an insistent shushing meant only for Claire’s ears. But the girl was unsuccessful.
“Don’t you shush me, Esther King. This man”—Nellie again pointed at Benjamin—“may have made the original accusation, but his brother—the boy you moon after morning, noon, and night—is the one who hated my Walter enough to kill him.”
Benjamin stood erect. “Amish do not kill.”
“Do they drink, Mr. Miller?” Nellie spat.
“No.”
Nellie’s eyes narrowed. “Oh no?”
“No.”
“Do they fight?”
“No.”
Jakob raised his hands in the air. “What are you getting at, Mrs. Snow?”
“This man says his brother would not kill because he is Amish. Yet he also says that same boy would not drink or fight because he is Amish.”
“You’ve lost me.” Jakob looked from Nellie to Benjamin and back again, the confusion in his face surely a mirror of Claire’s.
Nellie walked to the center of the store and spun around, her face a study in righteous indignation. “If an Amish man would drink and fight, why wouldn’t he kill?”
Jakob pinned Benjamin with a stare. “What is she talking about, Benjamin?”
The Amish man’s shoulders hitched upward. “I do not know.”
Raising her finger once again, Nellie pointed in Claire’s direction. “She does.”
Claire drew back. “Excuse me?”
“Not you, her.”
All eyes turned on Esther, prompting the clattering to start all over again.
“Esther?” Claire whispered. “Is there something you need to tell us?”
One by one, tears streaked their way down the young woman’s makeup-free face, twisting Claire’s heart in the process.
Claire sent a hopeless glance in Jakob’s direction and prayed he would understand its meaning.
He did.
“Mrs. Snow, I’ve heard what you have to say and will want to speak with you in greater detail at the station. But for now, I must ask you to leave as I conduct my investigation.”
Rage reduced Nellie’s eyes to mere slits. “I’ve heard about your past, Detective. And I will tell you right now that I will go to every ethics board I can find if this becomes an Amish-protecting-Amish case.”
For a moment, Jakob was silent, the only sound in the room his breath as he worked to steady it. “I am neither Amish nor English, Mrs. Snow. What I am is a detective. And I will not rest until the truth surrounding your husband’s death has been found. No matter where that leads.”
The tears became sobs as Esther dug her elbows into her lap and dropped her head into her hands, her whispered confession audible to no one but Claire. “I promised Eli I would not tell.”
Claire bit back the urge to offer any sort of condolence or encouragement for fear it would be overheard. Instead, she opted to simply keep patting the young woman’s shoulder until Nellie Snow and her overdressed, overbearing self had disappeared down the steps of Heavenly Treasures, leaving a veritable firestorm in her wake.
“What was she talking about?” Jakob demanded.
Esther looked up from her hands yet said nothing, her eyes wide with fear.
Benjamin stepped forward. “Miss Weatherly, if you would allow Esther a break at this time, I will see that she returns when we are done speaking.”
“Esther is not going anywhere,” Jakob interjected. “Not until I’ve asked her a few questions.”
Benjamin’s blue eyes darkened. “She can not speak with you!”
Jakob worked to contain his matching anger. “I am not asking as her uncle. I am asking as the detective who is trying to get to the bottom of a murder. One that has the victim’s wife accusing both you and your brother.”
Esther’s head dropped forward once again, a barely audible moan escaping her plump lips.
“Would it be okay if I asked the questions?” Claire posed.
Silence filled the room as both Benjamin and Jakob considered her offer.
“I will allow that.”
“Allow that?” Jakob hissed at Benjamin. “Allow that? What are you, Esther’s father?”
“In his absence, I will act as so,” Benjamin replied.
Claire held up her hands. “Please. This isn’t getting us the answers we need.” Turning her back to both men, she squatted down beside Esther, covering the young woman’s hands with her own and gently guiding them away from her worried face. “Esther? What was Mrs. Snow talking about just now?”
Esther’s hands began to tremble. “I promised Eli I would not tell.”
“You may hurt him more if you don’t tell,” Jakob said, not unkindly.
Claire continued. “Did Eli ever get into a fight?”
Esther peered at Benjamin from the corner of her eye.
“Esther?” Claire prodded.
“He did,” Esther whispered. “While on Rumspringa.”
Benjamin sucked in a breath. “How did I not know this?”
“Maybe because he feared being treated like a pariah by his friends and family.”
Claire glanced over her shoulder at Jakob, saw the hurt that matched his voice.
“Mr. Gussman got him from jail,” Esther said.
Jakob drew back. “Eli was arrested?”
“That is not so!” Benjamin yelled.
Esther clamped her lips together and nodded.
“When did this happen?” Jakob asked, jotting something down in his notebook.
“Six months ago.”
Jakob took two steps and then squatted on the ground beside Claire, his full attention on no one but his niece. “Do you know where this happened?”
Again, Esther nodded. “I do. But if I tell, Eli will not forgive me.”
Jakob reached out and patted Esther’s knee. “Then you don’t have to tell.”
“I … I don’t?”
Jakob shook his head. “I can find out the particulars on my own.”
Esther’s shoulders dipped in momentary relief only to tense again just as quickly. “Eli would not kill.”
For a moment, Jakob said nothing. Then, slowly, his awkward pat turned into a gentle squeeze. “I will keep that in mind.”
Claire rocked back on her heels, soaking
in the brief but tender moment between two family members who had been robbed of time together by no real fault of their own.
“Is that all?” Benjamin asked woodenly.
“For now.” Jakob flipped his notebook shut and smiled at Esther. “If I have more questions, I’ll stop out at the farm.”
Esther’s gasp was drowned out by the sound of her ankle boots as she jumped from the chair. “You can not come there!”
Claire reached out and tried her best to calm the girl, but it was no use.
“Mamm will not allow it!”
Visibly upset, Jakob rose to his feet, sliding a hand down his face as he did. “This is an investigation, Esther. A murder investigation. I’m going to have to question members of the Amish community. People like you, and Eli, and”—his gaze met Benjamin’s—“Benjamin’s sister, Ruth.”
“My sister is too upset to talk.”
Jakob met Benjamin’s worry-filled eyes. “I will have to talk to her, Benjamin. The body was found between Claire’s shop and hers.”
“My sister is no killer.”
“I didn’t say she was. But she may know something that can help me find who is.”
A sigh of resignation filtered its way between Benjamin’s lips. “I do not know, Jakob.”
Claire crossed the room to stand beside Esther. “We’ll figure it out. One way or the other.” She reached out and tucked a stray lock of hair back under Esther’s head cap. “In the meantime, if it’s okay with you, Detective, I’d like to let Esther take the rest of the day off. She’s been through quite a lot.”
After a pause, Jakob surprised her with a nod. “Okay. But there will be more questions.”
Esther opened her mouth to protest but closed it as Claire took charge. “Esther will be back at work tomorrow. If you have any further questions, you can find us here.”
Esther dropped her normally quiet voice to a whisper. “Us?”
“Us,” Claire confirmed.
Benjamin closed the gap between his spot by the wall and Esther, grabbing hold of her arm and guiding her toward the front door. “I will see that Esther gets home.”
She felt Jakob stiffen as he moved in beside her, but his thoughts, his feelings, were nothing more than a guess.
Chapter 8
Hearse and Buggy Page 5