Hearse and Buggy

by Laura Bradford

  “Yes.” Ruth blinked once, twice. “I did not think to look this morning because the policeman let me inside with Mr. Gussman’s master key.”

  Ruth had locked the door. The key was exactly where it should have been. Yet someone had gotten inside without breaking a window or forcing the lock.

  She closed her eyes against the image of Arnie, hands on hips, giving her an I-told-you-so face. “Ruth … Can I ask you something?”

  At Ruth’s nod, she proceeded. “Why didn’t you tell Benjamin about all of the things that have been happening around here? Especially after he saw that note last week?”

  The quietly stunning woman pushed the key box back into the dirt. “Eli did not want to worry him.”

  Claire considered that nugget from various angles. “I mean at first. When you discovered that the shipment of pie boxes had been stolen and all those milk bottles had been broken. Why did you go to Eli first? Is it just because he’s around the shop more often?”

  Wiping her hands against one another, Ruth removed the dirt from her skin. “I did not go to Eli. He came to me.”

  “He came to you?” she echoed against the sound of Arnie’s voice growing still louder in her head.

  Ruth nodded and then led the way back around the side of the shop and into the kitchen. “He is one who saw the bottles first. The note, too.”

  Stage it and find it …

  She shook her head free of the troubling thought, forced herself to focus on the things she knew. “But he didn’t know about the paint, right?”

  “Not until the fire.” Ruth’s lips dipped downward. “He was upset last night. Upset that I did not tell him.”

  Claire thought back to the previous night. Tried to remember Eli’s reaction when she told Jakob about the paint. But her focus had been on the detective, not Eli. Had he been shocked at the news of the spattered paint? Or did he have time to feign surprise before anyone became suspicious?

  She didn’t have the answers. Instead, what she had was Arnie’s accusations and a growing sense of dread.

  Chapter 23

  She supposed her turn left instead of right was an avoidance tactic, but it’s the only way she could think to handle her mounting suspicion where Eli Miller was concerned. To turn toward the store and greet Esther with a smile required an acting ability she didn’t possess at the moment.

  Instead, she opted for a stop at Glick’s Tools ‘n’ More and the inevitable gabfest that always came with its owner. Outside, the shop was a veritable carbon copy of both Shoo Fly Bake Shoppe and Heavenly Treasures. Inside, though, was a completely different matter.

  Where Ruth had display cases for her tasty treats and Claire had tiered shelves offering a vast array of homemade items for the home, Howard Glick had sawhorses and Peg Board–lined walls filled with every tool known to mankind. And maybe even a few more.

  In each corner of the room, a project was displayed for customers to view, with a work area set up nearby for the express purpose of trying out the required tools under Howard’s supportive and endlessly patient eye.

  Yes, Glick’s Tools ‘n’ More was, without a doubt, every man’s dream of what shopping should entail. Likewise, it was a blessing for all of the other shopkeepers on the street, who reaped the reward of having so many wives with uninterrupted browsing time on their hands.

  It was truly a win-win for everyone involved.

  She took two steps into the store and stopped, her eyes drawn to a wooden picture frame featuring an array of baby-inspired carvings in each corner.

  “See? I can catch me a few women in this store, too.” Howard poked his head around the register and grinned. “Course that doesn’t happen all that much because most men shoo their wives toward your store the second they see a storefront dedicated to tools.”

  “You can make a frame like this?” she asked, fingering the lines of the stroller and baby rattle.

  “So can you. If you’ve got the right tools.”

  She couldn’t help but laugh. “Ever the salesman.”

  Howard rose from his folding chair behind the counter and made his way over to Claire, tugging his hunter-green work apron across his burgeoning belly. “That’s ‘cause I’ve gotta be. Gotta make up for all that lost revenue over the past few months.”

  She paused her hand atop the carved teddy bear and glanced at the man over her forearm. “Lost revenue? I didn’t know you were having problems.”

  “It’s getting better. Slowly.” Howard reached across the demonstration table and neatened the stack of unfinished frames on the nearest work table. “But my books are still off because of Walter. Stuff like that takes a while to correct, as I’m sure you can probably imagine.”

  She let her hand drop to her side as she worked to make sense of Mr. Glick’s words. “Walter? What did the situation with Walter have to do with you?”

  Howard shrugged in time with his sigh. “The Amish trusted Walter Snow. They trusted he would hold up his end of their deal and pay them for their work.”

  “But he was a crook,” she pointed out.

  “Not at first he wasn’t. In fact, he behaved himself for nearly a year—selling their furniture pieces and giving them the agreed-upon percentage.” Howard walked to the next demonstration table and centered the wooden magazine rack that was on display. “So when the checks started lessening somewhat, and he explained it away as people bargaining down his prices because of the economy, they didn’t think anything of it. After all, he’d never given them any reason to doubt his word.”

  She followed him to the third station and the homemade tool box it held. He ran his hand across the handle in an effort to wipe away the layer of sawdust that surely came from a customer trying out the project’s appropriate tools.

  “What changed?”

  “He kept giving them less and less until Benjamin Miller realized something was wrong. I guess he saw a customer carrying one of his rocking chairs, and he asked how much the woman had paid. He compared that answer to the next statement, where Walter claimed he’d gotten only half of that amount. Benjamin put two and two together, and Walter closed up shop on the heels of some very disturbing threats made by young Eli.”

  And with that one name, she was right back where she’d started when she reached the end of Ruth’s walkway and opted to head left instead of right. She leaned against a pole in the center of the store and studied her fellow shopkeeper. “Do you really think Mr. Snow ran because of Eli? Or do you think he ran because he didn’t want to give up all that money he stole?”

  Howard moved on to the Peg Board, his hand expertly removing tools and replacing them onto their correct hooks. “I imagine it was probably both, though we won’t ever know for sure now.”

  She closed her eyes at the memory of the crime-scene tape stretched across the alley after Walter Snow’s body had been discovered. It was the kind of image that didn’t go with Heavenly. Not the Heavenly she needed it to be, anyway.

  “Were Eli’s threats really all that bad? I mean, he was mad, right? His family had been bilked of a lot of money. Maybe he was just letting off steam.” The words flowed from her mouth as if grateful to finally be unleashed.

  “Letting off steam would be to yell at him for stealing. Maybe even screaming until your face turns red. But that’s not what Eli did. Not even close.” Howard disappeared behind the counter only to return carrying a box filled to capacity with smaller plastic boxes with various sizes of nails. “Eli told Walter that he was going to rip him limb from limb if he didn’t return every cent of the money he owed the Millers and all the other Amish families who’d been hurt by Snow’s scheme. And he said that after he was done, he was going to throw Snow’s body in the lake.”

  So much for letting off steam …

  She swallowed hard in an effort to keep herself from asking the question that begged to be asked. But she couldn’t resist. She had to know. “Do you think Eli killed Walter?”

  Howard pulled three plastic boxes from the car
ton and fed them down the thin silver pole that held them at eye level. “I think it’s a good possibility, although it’s not one I’m terribly excited about.”

  “Oh?”

  “I like Eli.” Howard withdrew three more boxes and arranged them on a neighboring hook. “He’s a right fine young man most of the time. He’s got good manners, he is helpful at times I’m too stubborn to ask for it, and the way he looks after his sister is commendable.”

  They were all the same reasons she hoped Eli was innocent, too. Minus the one about a starry-eyed Esther, of course.

  “Why did you say he’s a fine young man most of the time?”

  He deposited the rest of the nail packages onto their appropriate hooks and carried the box back to the counter, where he proceeded to break it down with ease. “Well, he’s a hothead. I’m not sure more than two or three days can go by before he’s out back hollerin’ about something or another. Some kids laughed at him in the buggy that afternoon, some guy yelled at him for his horse going too slow, that strange duck from your aunt’s place hanging out in your shop too much. It’s always something, I tell you.”

  “Strange duck? You mean Arnie?”

  Howard nodded. “Yeah, that’s the guy.”

  She followed him to the counter and leaned her forearms against the Formica top. “Why would Arnie upset Eli?”

  “Because he’s got a crush on Esther, that’s why.”

  “Arnie? Yeah, I know that. How could I not?” She took note of the bulletin board behind Howard’s head and skimmed the various notes pertaining to the Lighted Way Business Owners’ Association.

  “No, I meant Eli. He fancies Esther, too.”

  She felt her mouth gape. “He does? Then why doesn’t he say something? Esther is crazy about him!”

  Howard’s belly moved when he chuckled. “Because that hothead is shy where feelings and women are concerned. He’ll look after ‘em and make sure they’re safe, but tell ’em he’s got feelings for ’em so some awkward guy will quit hanging around? Nope. Not gonna happen anytime soon.”

  “Men.”

  “Spoken like a true woman.” Howard patted his stomach and then dropped onto his folding chair once again. “Eli will come around, eventually. We men usually do. Unless, of course, he’s in jail for murder.”

  She waved the notion away. “Do you think Eli is smart?” It was a question she hadn’t meant to ask but it came out nonetheless.

  Howard leaned back and kneaded his chin between his fingers. “I don’t think he’s terribly book smart. Few are when they’ve only received formal education until they’re thirteen or so. But here’s the thing … If I were to be stuck on a deserted island with someone who was book smart or clever smart, I’d pick the latter every single time. You can’t teach clever. You either have it or you don’t.”

  “And you think Eli is clever?”

  “As clever as they come. Why, just the other day, when that school bus showed up with all those summer kids on it, I was trying to figure out how to keep them from clamoring to try all the hands-on stations.” Howard turned a sheepish eye at Claire. “I guess I didn’t want to take a chance those kids would break something or, even worse, hurt themselves and set me back even further than Walter’s nonsense did. So Eli grabbed that sign”—Howard pointed at the wooden plaque hanging in the middle of the store—“and flipped it over. Before I knew it, he’d managed to etch the word demonstrations into the back side. It was crude on account of having to use his left hand, but it worked.” Howard laughed at the memory. “Course that meant I was hopping all over the store, demonstrating each and every tool over and over again, but it was better than the alternative.”

  Howard crossed his arms in front of his chest and tipped his chair back on two legs. “Eli can work his magic on reality anytime he wants as far as I’m concerned. Though, given time, I’m not so bad with that sort of thing myself.”

  It was an answer she didn’t want. Yet it wasn’t one she could dispute, either. Eli Miller was, indeed, a clever soul, able to work his way around all sorts of situations when he wasn’t simmering over some purported injustice or another.

  The real question was whether he could work his magic on reality in other situations as well …

  “Well, I guess I better head to the shop. Esther is probably wondering what hole I dropped into this morning.” She pushed off the counter and turned, her gaze falling on the carved picture frames once again. “Hey … you never finished telling me how the stuff with Walter affected this place.”

  Howard pulled his arms from his chest and raised them into the air, linking his fingers behind his head. “Remember how I said Walter Snow was honest for a while?”

  She nodded.

  “Well, once a person’s trust is shaken in one seemingly honest person, it tends to be shaken toward others as well.”

  “You lost me.”

  “See those frames by your elbow?” Howard thrust his chin in her direction, then pointed it further right. “And those saws over there?”

  She followed the direction of his chin to a bin of wooden saws. “Yes.”

  “And those work tables down yonder?”

  Turning, she looked across the store to the stack of basic work tables just waiting to go home with customers eager to start their own workshops at home. “Okay …”

  “Those are all Amish made. As is half the merchandise in this store. I lose those suppliers, and I don’t have much to sell, do I?”

  The meaning behind his words finally met their mark. “They stopped giving you things, too? Because of Walter?”

  “Yep. Because of Walter.” Howard unhooked his fingers and let his chair fall onto all four legs. “Sure, Benjamin and the others knew they were getting every dime I owed them. But they pulled back their wares anyway. I suppose they were smartin’ from the betrayal, and I guess I can understand that. But by doing that, they made me one of Walter Snow’s victims, too.”

  It was all so much to take in. Too much, actually. “I guess I better get going.” She walked to the door and stopped, her mind virtually numb to anything resembling deep thought. “Eli really messed up threatening Walter Snow in the way that he did, didn’t he?”

  “I imagine it’s cast a spotlight on him, that’s for sure. Funny thing is, there’s probably a few of us who’d have helped him get the body down to the lake. We just weren’t dumb enough to say it out in the open with half a dozen witnesses standing around to hear it.”

  Chapter 24

  Claire could feel Esther’s eyes as she moved around the store taking everything off the shelves only to return it all to the exact same spot. She didn’t dust anything, didn’t rearrange anything, and didn’t change any of the pricing.

  She simply made work for the sake of making work.

  So she could avoid conversing with Esther about anything other than the weather and the relatively slow customer traffic.

  It wasn’t that she didn’t have plenty to say or countless things to ask. Because she did.

  She just didn’t want to hurt Esther in the process.

  “I feel so bad for Ruth. She has had too much.”

  Claire took a breath and held it for a count of ten. If she responded with more than a head nod, she’d be putting herself on a slippery slope. If she didn’t, she’d come across as uncaring.

  “I agree.”

  “Eli said there has been more—things he did not even tell Ruth.”

  She drew her hand back from the pyramid of votive candles she was restacking and started the count again. “Oh?”

  “He said he found a nail stuck between the stones in the alley.”

  The counting ceased at the second six. “A nail?”

  Worried lines deepened around the corners of Esther’s eyes. “Eli said it could hurt the horse.”

  “Maybe someone dropped it.”

  “Eli said it was fixed in place. He said it could not have fallen in such a way.”

  Giving up on the pyramid, Claire moved on to t
he next shelf, her mind at a loss for what to do with the two trinket boxes that would justify taking them down in the first place. “And when did he say this happened?”

  “Last week. After”—Esther looked down at her hands—“after Mr. Snow was found.”

  “When did he tell you this?”

  A rosy glow fanned its way across Esther’s cheeks. “This morning. I … I heard his buggy in the alley. I went out to see if he was okay.”

  It was hard to see Esther’s face when she spoke of Eli. To see the hope in her eyes. It was even harder knowing that both Arnie and Mr. Glick believed he was capable of murder. “Why did he tell you about this nail now if he found it last week? Surely you’ve talked since then, right?”

  “Eli is strong. He likes to fix things by himself.”

  Fix … or create?

  She shook the accusation from her mind and forced herself to focus on the pair of trinket boxes and the lack of display options available to her. “Then why tell you now? And why you and not Ruth?”

  “He worries for Ruth. He does not want her to worry more.” Esther bent her arms up and tied the strings of her head cap, the move surprising Claire as much as anything else so far that day. Granted, Esther was Amish. But Amish or not, Jakob’s niece had a bit of a rebellious streak where her clothes were concerned. “He needed to tell someone. He told me.”

  The pride in Esther’s eyes at the notion Eli had shared a secret with her was impossible to ignore. Claire swallowed once, twice. “I’m … glad.”

  Esther’s eyebrows rose toward her head cap. “Is it something I said?”

  “What?”

  “You look sad.”

  Because I am, she wanted to say. But she couldn’t. Not without subjecting herself to questions she didn’t want to answer. Instead, she merely shrugged, hoping the gesture and the noncommittal nod would throw Esther off the scent.

  She held up both boxes. “Any creative ideas for how to display these?”

  “You do not like Eli, do you?”