Murder, Simply Stitched: An Amish Quilt Shop Mystery

by Isabella Alan

  “The Amish don’t celebrate Halloween.”

  I swallowed. “I know that.”

  She adjusted her black shawl on her shoulder. “If you do, you should respect the Amish enough not to celebrate Halloween, especially since you claim to own an Amish business.”

  “I know my aunt didn’t feel that way, and I do respect the Amish and their beliefs.”

  “You didn’t know your aenti as well as I did. I spent more time with her than you ever did. How can you claim to know how she felt about anything?’

  I bit my tongue and counted to three in Pennsylvania Dutch. “Martha, you have your own shop now. I’m not sure why you are bound and determined to continue to criticize how I run mine.”

  She pursed her lips. “You’re right. I should not be concerned with it. You will not be able to compete with me when the tourists realize my store is the true Amish quilt shop in town.”

  I took a breath. “There is room for two shops, even two so close together like ours. I’m sure we don’t sell everything the same or offer the same classes or services. I think if we could embrace being two quilt shops together it might bring us both more business.”

  She gripped the handle of her cart. “So you are happy I moved next door?”

  I suppressed a sigh. “I admit when I first heard about you taking over the woodworker’s shop and making it a quilt shop, I was upset. It wasn’t because I didn’t want you to have your own shop. I was disappointed by your choice of location next to my aunt’s shop.”

  Martha stiffened. “I cared for your aenti. She was an aenti to me in many ways. When she told me she planned to leave the shop to you, I wasn’t worried.”

  “She told you?”

  Her face flushed as if she realized she’d said too much. “She did. After you visited in February, she told me. She wanted me to know. She felt her time was close and she didn’t want me to be surprised. I accepted it because you were engaged to a man from Texas. I knew you would never move here and take over the shop. I thought at most, you would own it in name from afar, and I would continue to run the day-to-day. Then, you showed up and insisted on working there and changing everything.”

  “Martha,” I said in a low voice. “I’m not going to apologize about that. If I had known about my aunt’s wishes in February, I would have thought the same thing you did. I expected to live in Dallas and be married. Many of my plans changed. My entire life changed. Mostly for the better. The only thing I wish I could change back was losing my aunt.”

  “Then you wouldn’t be here.”

  Her words stung because she was right.

  The older man pushed three final nickels across the metal counter toward the cashier. “That should do it.”

  The cashier shook her head. “It’s close enough.”

  He shuffled away from the counter with his cart.

  Martha had only a few items and quickly checked out. She paid the cashier and left without a backward glance. I set my bags of candy on the counter. The cashier rang them through. “Last minute candy buying?” she asked.

  I nodded.

  She put the candy into a grocery bag. “My advice? Next year come a lot sooner before everything is picked over.” She handed me the bag. “You’re not going to make any allies with the neighborhood kids with these.”

  Interesting word choice. Allies.

  I thanked her and left.

  At home, I had only a few minutes before the trick or treating as it officially began at six thirty. I needed to dress myself and the animals in our costumes.

  I dumped the candy into a huge popcorn bowl and set it by the door. Oliver and Dodger peered inside the bowl. The kitten, who could barely lift his head above the rim to see inside, batted at the edge. Oliver hung his head. I knew he believed the toilet papering was unavoidable for us at this point. We had such a poor offering to the neighborhood children.

  “Don’t worry; we will win them over with the costumes,” I promised.

  He whimpered.

  I loved dressing up for Halloween. It had been Ryan’s and my favorite holiday. The Halloween party was the event of the year at my advertising firm back in Dallas. Everyone tried to outdo the next person when it came to costumes. Two years ago, Ryan and I went as Little Red Riding Hood and the Big Bad Wolf. We laughed hysterically most of the night even though we lost to Princess Leia and Jabba the Hutt. Their costumes must have cost a small fortune. Jabba’s tail was a battery-operated prosthetic.

  Life with Ryan had not been all bad. I knew that’s what my mother wanted me to remember, and it was true. We had been together a long time and most of that time had been happy, or at least I thought so. Ryan must have disagreed since he dumped me.

  That was then. I’m a different person now, living in a completely different place, a place where a couple dressing up for Halloween would seem strange.

  I threw on my costume, which was decidedly simpler and didn’t cost me anything because it was made from items I had in my closet: an old Western shirt with tassels on the sleeves, a denim skirt, my hot pink cowboy hat, and the boots. In Texas, my getup would not have been worthy of Halloween. Ladies wore these outfits on weekends at horse shows and the rodeos. It was an outfit that symbolized a way of life. Here in Ohio, it was a costume, which made me wonder if anyone had ever dressed up like an Amish person for Halloween. If they did, I knew the Amish wouldn’t like it.

  Since Ryan wasn’t here to be costume partner, I drafted Oliver. The Frenchie snuffled as I put on his felt cowbell and horns. Since he was already black and white, he didn’t need anything more than that. I simply tied a small red bandanna around Dodger’s neck. I knew better than to dress up a cat too much.

  I finished just as the doorbell rang. I opened it to find Dorothy and Toto on my doorstep. “Trick or treat,” they crowed.

  I dropped candy in their buckets. “Happy Halloween.”

  Toto peered in his bucket with a sneer. “Smarties? Where’s the chocolate?”

  I sighed.

  It seemed like all the English children of Millersburg were out, and I quickly finished my first bag of candy. Oliver and I sat on the stoop. The children giggled when they saw our outfits, especially Oliver’s. I slipped into the house to grab the other bags. As I stepped back onto the front porch, I saw Sheriff Mitchell following Batman and Robin up my driveway.

  Batman, also known as Zander Mitchell, was serious when it came to trick or treating. He didn’t waste his time with a cute Halloween bucket. The seven-year-old had a pillowcase, which judging by the bulge was a third full.

  “Trick or treat,” the Dark Knight said.

  Robin, Tux, barked a greeting and joined Oliver the cow.

  “Happy Halloween,” I said, dropping candy into his pillowcase. I smiled over his head at the sheriff. “Happy Halloween, Sheriff.”

  “Happy Halloween, Angie.” His salt-and-pepper hair glimmered in the glow of my porch light. My chest constricted.

  Zander rooted through his pillowcase and removed a Snickers bar. Apparently, not everyone in the neighbor waited to the last minute to buy candy. “Hey, you are that lady my mom yelled at.”

  Out of the mouths of babes. “I am,” I said. “I’m Angie.”

  “I know. Mom and Dad talk about you.”

  Mitchell cleared his throat. “Z, we are here for the candy. We don’t want to bore Miss Braddock.”

  Zander bit down on the Snickers. “I’m just asking a question.”

  “Don’t talk with your mouth full either.”

  He swallowed. “Angie doesn’t care.”

  “Please call her Miss Braddock.”

  “Why?” Batman wanted to know.

  Mitchell folded his arms. “It’s a sign of respect. Do you call your teachers by their first names?”

  “No.” Zander examined my cowgirl outfit. “Are you a teacher?”

  I shook my head.

  “See,” the seven-year-old said to his father. “You only have to call teachers Miss Whatever.”

>   I stifled a chuckle. “I see you excluded Robin’s black mask,” I said, pointing to Tux.

  Zander swung his pillowcase over his shoulder like a hobo about to jump onto a freight train. A superhero hobo, but still. “He already has a mask.”

  Mitchell cleared his voice. “That’s not the only reason.”

  “He ate the other one.”

  I winced.

  “Tux likes to chew on stuff.” Zander was solemn. “That’s why he’s not allowed at my mom’s house. She doesn’t like it.”

  “I imagine your dad doesn’t care much for it either.”

  Zander shrugged. “Dad’s place is different. We’re allowed to eat on the couch.”

  “Kind of sounds like my place,” I said, feeling the sheriff watch me the entire time.

  He removed a Milky Way from his pillowcase. “But you are a girl. Girls are supposed to be cleaner.”

  “I didn’t say I was messy eating on the couch. You can eat on the couch and still be neat about it.”

  “If I ate on your couch, it would be messy,” he assured me.

  “It would,” the sheriff agreed with a smile. It was the most relaxed I had seen him since before Wanda’s body was discovered.

  I smiled back at the sheriff. “I’m surprised to see you out tonight.”

  He frowned. “Why’s that?”

  I swallowed. “Isn’t Halloween a big night for crime?”

  His face softened. “I’m always on call, but my deputies are handling most of the cases.” He tilted his smile. “And you’re not in the big city anymore.”

  “Dad and I always go trick or treating,” Zander said. “It’s a tradition.”

  I smiled. “That sounds fun.”

  He lowered his voice. “I would never go with Mom. She’d take away the candy. She’s passing out tiny bags of almonds at our house tonight. Almonds. Who wants those? How am I supposed to show my face at school? Everyone will know the almonds came from my place.”

  “You will survive.” Mitchell held back a smile.

  “I’ll just tell them I was with my dad and had nothing to do with the almonds. When you have two houses, you can work it your advantage.”

  I laughed. “I’m glad.”

  “Nice outfit,” Mitchell said.

  I shrugged. “It’s just something I had lying around.”

  The sheriff was smiling wide now. “I see you dressed up Oliver too.”

  Oliver whimpered and sniffed Tux’s costume. He barked and gave me an accusing stare. Oh, I could all but hear my Frenchie complaining “He has a cape, Mom. A cape.”

  “You dressed your dog up like a cow,” Zander said.

  “I did.”

  Zander pulled at his Batman ears. “I think he’s embarrassed.”

  “He was fine until Tux got here and showed him up with the cape. He can’t compete with a superhero.”

  Zander spun to show off his cape. “No one can compete with a superhero.” He squatted in front of Oliver. “Next year, I can help you find a better costume,” Zander said.

  “Thanks . . . I think,” I said.

  Mitchell barked a laugh.

  “Trick or treat!” A pair of pint-sized witches crowed.

  Mitchell moved to the side, so I could drop candy in their bags. The sheriff’s cell phone rang. He stepped to the side. “Mitchell.”

  By the way he greeted the caller, I knew it was a business call.

  “Where?” the sheriff asked. “How long?”

  He glanced over to me while Zander chattered about Oliver’s costume options for next Halloween. Currently, it sounded as if Oliver was destined to be a Transformer.

  “I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Mitchell said.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  “There’s been a break-in.”

  “Where?”

  He seemed to consider my question. Finally he said, “At Wanda’s accounting office. Her partner went back tonight to pick up something and found the place tossed.”

  I gripped my candy bowl. “Was anyone hurt?”

  He shook his head. “But I need to get over there ASAP. Anderson is the only one on the scene at the moment.”

  I frowned and understood his urgency. Anderson meant well but had a long way to go when it came to being a cop.

  “Can Zander stay with you for a little while?” Mitchell asked.

  “Of course.” I winced, remembering his ex-wife’s reaction to me being at his house earlier in the week. “But won’t that upset Hillary?”

  He grimaced. “I don’t have time to drive him to her house. I’ll call Hillary on my way to the scene.”

  “Sure, yes, Zander can stay,” I said.

  “And Tux will have to stay here too. Hillary’s not going to want to take him to her house. I’ll be back later tonight to pick him up.”

  “That’s fine. Oliver will love the company and the help to keep an eye on Dodger.”

  He smiled and squatted in front of his son. “Z, I have to go. Mom will be here soon to pick you up.”

  “But what about trick or treating?” Batman’s shoulders drooped. “We’re only halfway done.”

  The sheriff rocked back on his heels. “I’m sorry. I will make it up to you. I promise.”

  “That’s what you always say.”

  The sheriff swallowed hard. “You will be fine here with Miss Braddock.”

  Batman folded his arms. “She’s not a teacher. I’m not calling her Miss anything.”

  “Zander,” his father’s voice sharpened.

  “You can call me Angie,” I said quickly.

  Mitchell peered up at me. “Fine. Your mom will be here soon.”

  The boy shrugged. “Okay.”

  “We can do a couple more houses here on my street while we wait for her,” I said. “It will give me a chance to show off my own costume. It’s time people in Millersburg met a real Texan.”

  This won a small smile from the Dark Knight. “Okay, but Batman doesn’t usually roll with cowgirls.”

  “He does tonight.”

  Zander laughed.

  Mitchell stood. “Great. I’ll give Hillary your cell number in case you aren’t at the house when she arrives.”

  “You have my cell number?”

  He swallowed. “I have it from this summer.”

  He didn’t have to say the rest. He had it from when I was a murder suspect.

  He cleared his throat. “Hillary won’t be in the best mood, so it would probably be best if you’re home when she arrives.”

  “Good point.”

  The sheriff stood. “You be good, okay?” he said to his son.

  Zander rolled his eyes.

  “We’ll be fine,” I said.

  He squeezed my hand before he left. “Thank you.”

  The sheriff saved my cell number, but what he didn’t know was I had saved his too.

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  I wanted to join the sheriff as he rushed to the scene to find out how this break-in was related to Wanda’s death—because it had to be. As I watched Mitchell hurry down the sidewalk, I couldn’t help but wonder if one of the three men who I came to think of as my main suspects broke into Wanda’s office. Perhaps it was Troy, her ex-husband? Maybe he wanted to destroy some type of incriminating evidence related to his divorce case, but I couldn’t imagine what that would be.

  It could have been Gideon just as easily. Wanda was his accountant. Did he break in to retrieve papers about his accounts? Or maybe it was David Booker, her business partner, who broke into his own office to throw off suspicion. Hadn’t he said that he and Wanda had a survivorship deed when it came to the business? As far as I could tell, he gained the most from Wanda’s death and hadn’t appeared to be broken up about her passing.

  Or was it a fourth suspect: Reed? As much as I wanted the teen to be innocent, I couldn’t deny that he had a history of vandalism. There was the covered bridge on River Road as evidence of that.

  Zander pulled on my hand, shaking me out
of my dark thoughts.

  “So Batman,” I said as his father disappeared out of sight. “Want to hit a couple more houses before calling it a night?”

  “Who’s going to pass out your candy?”

  “I can leave the candy here on the porch. People can take some if they want to.”

  He peered into my bowl. “Nobody is going to take it. You don’t have very good stuff.”

  I sighed.

  His aquamarine eyes, so much like his father’s, examined me through the Batman mask. “Next year, I will help you do Halloween right because what you have here is kind of embarrassing. It’s not much better than almonds.”

  “That’s harsh.”

  He shrugged. “I call it like I see it.”

  I straightened the tassels on my shirt. “I guess I do need a tutor. Let’s hit the streets.”

  After finishing the street, the two dogs, Zander, and I walked up my driveway just as Hillary’s red car pulled in. The dogs had to hop onto the grass to avoid being run over. It was a good thing we didn’t stray too far.

  Her door was opened before the car came to a complete stop. “What are you doing with my son?” Hillary screeched.

  Thankfully, trick or treating was winding down. There were only a few older kids stumbling through the neighborhood. Apparently they were determined to stay out until the bitter end.

  “Mom, we were trick or treating,” Zander said.

  “I’m not talking to you, Zander.”

  “Hillary, would you like to come in for a moment?” I couldn’t believe I invited this woman, who clearly hated me, into my home, but it was better than her screaming at me in the middle of my driveway.

  “Fine. I need to talk to you. It would be better to be inside.” She slammed her car door closed.

  As she marched through the living room, she inspected everything. I knew she judged all of my furnishings, which weren’t much. Most of them I had bought piecemeal since I’d moved back to Ohio. I left behind the sleek, modern furniture from my Dallas apartment. It would not have fit in my new home. I had a couch, coffee table, and television. That pretty much summed up my living room, and except for the television both of the other items had come with the house. Since moving to town, I had poured all of my money into the shop. Furniture for the house would have to wait.