Murder, Simply Stitched: An Amish Quilt Shop Mystery

by Isabella Alan

  “I’d hoped that we could pick our own patterns,” one woman said.

  “Since this is the first class, we thought it would be best if we do some practice. That way when you start your real quilting project, you will have all the kinks out.”

  “That makes sense,” Sue said. “Practice makes perfect.”

  Mattie, standing next to me, squirmed. The Amish didn’t believe human perfection was possible. Anna was unfazed by the comment. She had been around English people enough not to be thrown off by what they might say.

  “That’s fair,” the first woman said. “I don’t want any problems in the queen-sized quilt I am making for my daughter for her wedding.”

  I internally winced. A queen-sized quilt was an ambitious project for a master quilter. “When’s the wedding?” I asked as I noted her name tag said SHIRLEY.

  “Christmas Day. It’s a Christmas wedding. When October rolled around, I knew I had better get started on it.”

  Mattie’s mouth fell open. “You haven’t started it yet and it’s for this Christmas?”

  Shirley’s nose wrinkled. “I haven’t had time. My daughter’s wedding is like a full-time job. Besides, I have two months to do it. It shouldn’t take that long.”

  “If all you do for two months is quilt,” Mattie whispered out of the side of her mouth at me.

  Anna placed two triangle-shaped quilting pieces back-to-back. “You want to make a quilt in two months, and you’ve never quilted before?”

  The woman blinked. “That’s why I’m starting now.”

  Anna adjusted her glasses. “Maybe you will be able to finish it in time for her tenth anniversary.”

  Shirley frowned. “You don’t think I will be ready to make my daughter a quilt by the end of this class? The class is seven weeks long. That should be plenty of time.”

  Seven weeks to make a queen-sized quilt would be more than enough time for my aunt Eleanor to do, for Anna to do, and even for me to do if I had help from the quilting circle ladies. It would not be enough for Shirley to do it.

  “All Anna’s saying is that it might be a tad”—I paused—“ambitious.”

  “I’m a fast learner,” Shirley insisted.

  “In that case, let’s get started.” I gave Anna a look.

  “Back to piecing,” Anna said.

  I couldn’t help but smile as I watched the women work and consult Mattie and Anna about a difficult stitch. This was going to work.

  Flo, a woman in her late sixties, asked me to help her correct a stitch. “I’m no good at this,” she complained.

  “You’re doing fine,” I said as I worked her needle backward through the fabric. “You are just learning. That’s why this first project is a practice quilt. I’ve been quilting since I was a small child, and I still drop stitches.” I winked at her and handed the fabric back.

  She gave me a wide smile. “My husband laughed when I told him about the class. He says this will lead me to finally using the sewing room that we turned my daughter’s bedroom into when she went to college.”

  “When was that?”

  “Fifteen years ago.” She chuckled.

  As the women worked, I helped when I could and smiled to myself when I saw people walking by peering into the shop to watch the class. Word would spread quickly through the township about the great classes Running Stitch had to offer.

  I circled the ladies, carrying a carafe of coffee in one hand and second carafe of apple cider in the other.

  Lois held up her cup, requesting a refill. “More cider please.”

  I poured cider into her cup.

  “I thought Candy was going to take the class with us. I know she was thinking about it,” Lois said.

  Sue shook her head. “Candy is at Zander’s school today. It’s grandparents’ visit day there.”

  I froze when I heard the name “Zander.” How many Zanders could there be in Holmes County?

  “How nice,” Lois said. “I’m sure she’s enjoying that.”

  Sue lowered her voice just a little. “Just between you and me, she’s been worried sick about her daughter Hillary. Hillary is having a terrible time with her ex-husband.”

  Lois sniffed. “It’s no wonder she left him. With as many callouts as he receives day and night, she was practically a single mother as it was.”

  I squirmed, knowing that I shouldn’t be hanging on every word of this conversation about Mitchell and his ex-wife Hillary, but I couldn’t help myself. I ate up every word.

  With her tongue between her teeth, Sue tried to pick up a dropped stitch. “Candy believes Hillary still loves him though. She hasn’t dated anyone else since the split. It’s been three years.”

  The mug of cider I was refilling began to overflow.

  “Angie,” Anna barked.

  “Oh! I’m so sorry,” I yelped.

  Mattie ran to my side with some paper towels. Again, Mattie’s eyes were the size of duck eggs. I would have to teach the girl how to put together a convincing poker face, not that a good Amish girl would ever play poker.

  Oliver licked apple cider off the hardwood floor.

  “How clumsy of me.” I looked at the woman. “Did I get any on you?”

  “No, dear, I’m fine.”

  I took a handful of paper towels from Mattie and cleaned up the floor. I gathered up the dirty towels and tossed them into the wastebasket behind the sales counter.

  Mattie tossed her paper towel into the basket too. “Angie, what happened? It was like you were in another place.”

  I tried to laugh it off. “I guess I’m distracted. That’s all.”

  She looked like she wanted to ask more, but it wasn’t the Amish way to pry, for which I was grateful.

  “Don’t worry, dear. No need to cry over spilt cider.” Lois patted my hand.

  Shirley used the seam ripper on the two triangles she had pieced. The edges of the triangles were way off.

  “Isn’t it a shame about what happened to poor Wanda Hunt?” a woman name June said. It was the first time she’d spoken up since the class began. June was very intent on her stitches. It seemed her attention was well spent. She had the best quilt block in the class. Her pieces fit together perfectly.

  “It’s a terrible shame.” Shirley frowned. “But June, why would you bring that up when we are having a nice morning? It’s too depressing.”

  June pursed her lips. “When you all were talking about Hillary it reminded me of Wanda. The two were close friends despite their age difference. Hillary must be overwrought by Wanda’s death.”

  “I didn’t want to say it”—Sue leaned toward the middle of the circle—“but the case Hillary was upset with her husband over was Wanda’s case. Even if they are divorced this will put another strain on their relationship, which is not good for poor little Zander.”

  The women nodded sagely and muttered under their breaths at this dire prediction.

  “Ladies,” Anna said in a mock scolding manner. “Less gossip and more stitches.”

  The women bowed their heads over their work. Even though they were close to Anna’s age, she definitely was the teacher in the room.

  If Hillary and Wanda were best friends, it seemed a talk with Mitchell’s ex-wife was in order. That would be fun.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Mattie shut Running Stitch’s front door after the last student from quilting class left. “I can’t believe how much money those ladies spent, Angie. There were only seven of them, but I think we had one of the best days for the shop since the grand reopening.”

  I grinned as I tucked the credit card receipts into a money pouch and stowed it under the cash drawer. “We have to credit Anna for that.” I turned to my aunt’s dear friend. “Anna, you missed your calling as a used car salesman. I’ve never seen anything like it. How did you convince Shirley she needed three pairs of scissors?”

  Anna smiled coyly. “I only told her each pair had a different purpose. There were darning scissors, needlepoints, and fabric scissor
s. I didn’t tell her she had to buy any of them. I simply told her what they were.”

  Mattie chuckled. “You are too much, Anna.”

  “Probably so.” Anna tied her cloak over her shoulders. “It’s time I headed home. I promised Miriam I would stay with the children this afternoon, so she could visit her sister who has a new baby.”

  “You will be alone with the twins?” I grinned.

  “Emma will be with me. It will take both of our wits to keep those rascals in line. When I told Jonah he had the twins as payback for all the trouble he caused me when he was young, I didn’t know I would have to spend so much time with them. I supposed Grossmammi is getting payback too.” She winked and went out the door.

  I grabbed my own jacket from the peg on the wall.

  Mattie moved the chairs back around the quilt frame. “Are you leaving too?”

  “I am. I want to go back to the auction yard to speak with the Nissleys.”

  Mattie worried her lip. “Why?”

  Dodger hopped off of the fabric shelf where he had been snoozing throughout the class. He meowed loudly. Oliver jumped out of his dog bed to check on his small charge. The kitten held up his cheek, and Oliver gave him a doggy kiss.

  Mattie shook her head. “They are the strangest dog and kitten I have ever seen.”

  I bent over and picked up the kitten. “I know. I guess that’s why they’re mine.” I scratched the kitten beneath his chin. “I want to go back to the Nissleys’ because Rachel was here this morning. She told me the sheriff stopped by the farm and told you all about the peanuts.”

  She tightened her apron around her waist. “She shouldn’t have told you. My bruder would not like it.” Her brow drooped. “Do you think she knows that you are snooping into the crime? I don’t want her to get in trouble with my bruder.”

  “I imagine she suspects it. She knows me well enough to know what I might do. It’s not like I haven’t done it before.”

  “That’s true,” Rachel’s sister-in-law said.

  “However, she didn’t ask me outright if I was. I think she wants to be able to be honest with Aaron, so let’s still try to keep her in the dark about most of it.”

  Mattie nodded. “All right.”

  I zipped up my jacket. “I understand Aaron doesn’t want to defend himself because that is not the Amish way, but I’m not Amish.”

  She played with the edge of her apron. “It’s more than that. Aaron would be upset if you got hurt.”

  I laughed it off. “I’m not going to be hurt. I promise.”

  She bit her lip as Oliver and I went out the door.

  Yesterday, the day after the auction and Wanda’s death, the auction grounds had been empty except for the two Amish boys and Gideon. This was Friday, and there were several Amish farmers who lived farther away unloading their livestock into the pens. Wednesday’s auction was well attended, but it didn’t come close to a fall Saturday auction. Several of the outbuildings that had been closed during the Wednesday auction would be open for business.

  I knew the Millers didn’t give Wanda peanuts, and I doubted Reed did because his aunt’s death put him in a bad position. I paused as this thought crossed my mind. If Reed was telling the truth. I didn’t know Reed well enough to know if he was lying about not wanting to live with his mother again. I suspected a teenager who could be involved in stealing cars was an accomplished liar. So Reed wasn’t totally off of my list, but he wasn’t number one either. It had to be someone else.

  Since she died at the auction, was I safe to assume that someone had a connection with the auction? Maybe not. I couldn’t forget Troy, her charmer of an ex-husband, but again, her death put him at a disadvantage. He wouldn’t receive any alimony from a dead woman. Therefore, the auction seemed like the best place to start investigations for the day.

  I parked my SUV on the grass between two buggies. Oliver and I crossed the main green, stopping every few steps so that he could sniff at the piles of fallen leaves that covered the ground. The grass was still spongy from yesterday’s rain.

  Jonah’s market wagon was parked by the livestock barn. Petunia the Nubian goat supervised as Jonah tried to march his geese into an open pen.

  Honk! Honk! Honk! They protested.

  Oliver shuffled backward, and I had to scoop him up to stop him from bolting. “We won’t get too close, Ollie, I promise.”

  I chuckled as I stopped a good ten yards from Jonah. Oliver buried his square head into my elbow.

  Jonah tapped one of the geese with the end of the shepherd’s staff. The bird snapped at it with her beak.

  My chuckles got worse.

  Jonah never had much control over the geese since he decided to add them to his livestock last summer.

  Jonah turned and narrowed his eyes. “What are you laughing at?”

  “Laughing? I’m not laughing.” I covered my mouth.

  His eyes were slits. “You are laughing.”

  “Okay, maybe a little.” I grinned. “Auctioning off your geese tomorrow?”

  He nodded. “I thought I would start with a few to see what price they can catch. If they do well, I may auction off the rest. Mamm is thrilled. She started humming to herself as I loaded the geese into the wagon. She doesn’t like having them around. If I auction them off maybe she will stop complaining about the noise.” He paused. “Maybe.”

  My grin widened. “Maybe you will all get some sleep now.”

  “If I can sell them.” He shifted his hat on his head. “If no one bids on them, then they are going back home with me. Mamm might never forgive me if that happens.”

  “She will . . . eventually.”

  His face broke into a grin.

  Petunia walked over to me and tilted her goat head while she appraised Oliver. The Frenchie peeked out from my elbow.

  “Baaa!” Petunia cried.

  Oliver barked. Okay, it wasn’t much of a bark, it was more of a whimper-yip, but I was proud of him for trying to communicate with the goat.

  “Don’t worry, Ollie,” I said. “Petunia is a nice goat.” I thought it was best not to tell him how she knocked me to the ground the day before.

  Jonah snorted. “A nice goat? That’s not what you said when you jumped on her on Wednesday.”

  “I’ve gotten to know her since.” I stepped over to Petunia and patted the goat on the head and scratched her long velvety ear.

  He walked up the wooden plank to the back of the wagon and tapped the sides of one of the stubborn geese with his staff. Jonah muttered in Pennsylvania Dutch. I knew a handful of words because Rachel had started teaching me. He called the goose dumb.

  I shifted Oliver in my arm. “I don’t think she’s going to cooperate if you continue to call her names like that.”

  He frowned. “What are you doing here anyway? Besides pestering me.”

  “I need to talk to Gideon about tomorrow’s auction.”

  His eyebrows knit together. “Am I to believe that’s all you’re doing?”

  “Yep, that’s what you are to believe.”

  “Angie, I have known you since we were kinner. I recognize that look in your eyes.”

  I gave him my blank stare. “What look? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Sure you don’t.” He poked the goose again, and she took two steps backward, away from the plank.

  “Jonah,” a voice called from behind me and asked Jonah a question in their language. I turned to see Gideon stroll toward us.

  “They will be off the wagon soon, Gideon. It’s taking me a bit longer than I expected.”

  “Gut because I can’t have another day like Wednesday.” The auction yard owner hooked his thumbs through his suspenders. “The auction can’t have any complications tomorrow.”

  Did Gideon consider Wanda’s death a complication? Or did he mean Petunia running loose through the auction? Maybe he thought they were equal.

  Jonah nodded. “Don’t worry, Gideon. The twins are staying at home tomorrow.”
>
  “Gut.” Gideon bushy eyebrows knit together as he spotted me. “What are you doing here?”

  I swallowed and felt Jonah watching me. “Mr. Nissley, I wanted to talk to you actually,” I said.

  He scowled at me. “Is this more nonsense about Wanda and Reed? Because if it is, I have already said my piece on that.”

  “No, it’s not. I’m sorry about yesterday. I dropped by to make sure it was still all right to bring a few of my quilts to the auction tomorrow. When I was accepted into the auction on Wednesday, I knew a condition for me coming again depended on how well the quilts did.” I set Oliver on the ground.

  Jonah finally prodded the goose enough that she waddled down the plank and into the pen.

  Oliver flattened himself beneath Petunia as if the goat could protect him from the winged terrors.

  “All right?” Gideon raised his bushy brows. “It is fine. Your quilts sold very well and made a nice profit for us both.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.” Anna had been right. Gideon Nissley was more interested in the money that my quilts could make him than me snooping around the auction grounds after they were closed.

  “Your quilts did so well I am considering bringing in another quilt merchant. Another shopkeeper approached me about making sales here too.”

  “Who?” Martha. I knew he meant Martha. Again, I felt Jonah watching me.

  “Martha Yoder. She has a new quilt shop in town.”

  “I know it. It’s Authentic Amish Quilts. It’s right next to my shop.”

  “Ya. I heard that she moved into Joseph Walker’s old woodworking shop.” He pulled at his suspenders. “Didn’t she used to work for you?”

  “Yes,” I said through gritted teeth. Losing my temper with Gideon wouldn’t bring me any closer to solving Wanda’s murder.

  “You need to register your quilts with my auctioneer, Linus Raber. He should be in the office now, studying the auction blocks for tomorrow. He takes his job seriously and likes to know every detail about the items and livestock he auctions off.”