Lethal Licorice

by Amanda Flower

  A second deputy entered the sanctuary. He was a young, short, compact man who looked like he was fresh from the police academy. His hair was perfectly parted down the side, and his uniform was ironed to within an inch of its life.

  Aiden patted his mother’s arm one final time and stepped away. “This is Deputy Little. He will be working the case with me today.”

  I studied the newcomer with even more interest. Aiden’s old partner and I had not gotten along. In fact, it had gone so badly that he was no longer with the Sheriff’s Department. I hoped for better things from Deputy Little.

  The younger deputy stared at Aiden with an expression I could only describe as admiration. Yep, Little was going to be a lot different from Aiden’s old partner, who could barely contain his contempt for Aiden. At least one thing in Harvest had improved in the last few weeks.

  Aiden looked at his mother, Charlotte, and me in turn. “Can someone please tell me what is going on here? We got a call about a dead body.”

  His question set Charlotte off in tears again. Juliet removed a tissue from her dress pocket and patted her own eyes.

  I cleared my throat. “Your mother and I came into the church looking for Jethro, and—”

  “Yes!” Juliet cried. “Aiden, Jethro is still missing. We must do something to find him.”

  Aiden glanced at his mother. “We will, Mom. I know you’re worried about him, but I need to ask about what happened here first.”

  She covered her mouth. “Oh, I know. I know I shouldn’t be worried about poor Jethro at a time like this, but I can’t help it. I’m afraid whoever did this might have hurt my little pig too.”

  Aiden shook his head. “It’s very unlikely Jethro’s absence is related to what’s happened here in the church today.” He nodded encouragingly to me. “Bailey, you were saying . . .”

  I swallowed and started again. “Your mother and I decided to search the church for Jethro. We’d just stepped into the building when we heard a god-awful noise.”

  “What was the noise?” Aiden asked.

  “The organ,” I said, “although it sounded closer to a strangled cat than any instrument I’ve ever heard.”

  Charlotte covered her face with her hands, and I wished I could take the strangled cat comment back. It was too late.

  I took a breath. “We came into the sanctuary, and Charlotte was at the organ. It was clear there was something wrong with the instrument. Charlotte opened the door in the organ and”—I paused—“made the discovery.”

  Aiden glanced down at Charlotte.

  “That’s Charlotte,” I said, answering his question even before he could ask.

  Charlotte rubbed her eyes but remained silent. She made a point not to look at Aiden.

  Juliet held up her hand. “What about Reverend Brook? I should go find Reverend Brook to tell him what has happened.” She took a step toward a side door behind the pulpit. “That’s what I should do. He needs to know what’s going on. It’s his church.”

  Aiden held up his hand, traffic cop style. “We’ll make sure Reverend Brook knows what’s happened, but you can’t leave the scene just yet. We should question all three of you.” Aiden turned back to me. “Do you recognize the person inside the organ?”

  I nodded. “It’s Josephine Weaver.”

  “Weaver is an Amish name.”

  “The woman was Amish,” I said with a nod.

  Aiden closed his eyes for a second. I wished I knew what he was thinking.

  “Does it make a difference that the victim is Amish?” I asked.

  He glanced in my direction. “Of course, it does. Everything just got a lot more complicated.”

  I wasn’t sure what he meant by that. Would it have been better if it were a non-Amish person—or Englischer, as the Amish called us—who’d been killed? I bit the inside of my cheek. I mean, really, the tragic loss of any person was cause for upset.

  “I’m not sure how she died, but I would say since she was inside the organ, her death was not natural.”

  Aiden scowled at me, and I remembered the deputy hadn’t been keen on me poking my nose into the last murder investigation. I doubted his opinion had changed much in the last few weeks.

  “You think someone killed her?” Juliet gasped.

  “It looks that way. Yes,” I said.

  Aiden scowled, and his dimple was nowhere to be seen. “I’ll be the judge of that. You all sit tight here with Deputy Little.”

  “I’d like to take a look too, Deputy Brody,” Little piped up, sounding a little miffed to be stuck babysitting three women instead of getting a chance to peek inside the organ.

  Aiden glanced over his shoulder. “You’ll get your chance. Stay here for now with them.”

  Little nodded and stood a little straighter.

  Aiden walked up to the organ as if steeling himself for what he might find inside. He disappeared through the small doorway. I followed him.

  “You should stay here,” Little said to my back.

  I glanced over my shoulder just as Aiden had. “That is probably true.” And kept going.

  Chapter 4

  I peered through the open door into the organ to find Aiden staring at Josephine’s limp hand, just as I had a few moments ago. I averted my eyes. One inspection of the Amish woman’s still form was enough for me. I still couldn’t believe that she had been so alive just a short time ago. I hadn’t known Josephine long, and what I knew of her was unpleasant, but at the same time she was still a person who would be missed by someone. If she wasn’t, that would be terribly sad. She was also a candy maker, like me, and one of the best or she would not have earned a spot in the ACC. I had to respect her talent for the craft of candy making. A talent that was now lost. What could have possibly happened between the time she yelled at me on the square about not being Amish and when Charlotte began playing the organ?

  “Just do me a favor,” Aiden said without looking at me. “Don’t touch anything, and don’t cross the threshold. I would like to keep the scene as secure as possible.”

  “Okay,” I said and remained in the doorway. At least Aiden hadn’t shooed me away completely.

  Aiden took a step closer to the platform where the body lay. He got much closer to it than I had.

  “What do you think happened?” I asked.

  He didn’t turn around, just kept studying the body and the platform.

  “Do you think she was murdered?” I asked.

  He glanced back at me. “Why would you ask that?”

  I shrugged. “She’s in an organ. It seems suspicious to me.”

  “Me too.” His shoulders drooped. “I can’t say anything official just yet, but yes, it’s possible. It’s hard to believe that she would climb inside the organ and onto this platform to die by her own choice.”

  “And she died from an allergic reaction, right?”

  He did turn and look at me then.

  “I saw her lips and tongue. I know what hives look like. Cass is allergic to horseradish. She can’t touch the stuff. I’ve only see her after she accidentally ate it once, and she was covered in hives.” My eyes fell on Josephine’s hand again. I had to look away. “But her reaction wasn’t as severe as what happened to Josephine.”

  “I’m sure Cass wasn’t happy when she got that bite of horseradish.” Aiden had met my best friend, Cass, when she came to Harvest just before my grandfather passed away.

  Despite the tension in the small space, I couldn’t help but smile. “No, she wasn’t happy, but the Benadryl she had to guzzle knocked her right out.”

  “Deputy Brody!” Little called from behind me. “The EMTs and crime scene techs are here.”

  I turned and saw a dozen official-looking men and women marching down the center aisle of the church. I turned back to the innards of the organ and found Aiden just inches from my nose. I drew in a sharp breath.

  He didn’t move. “Can you go sit with my mother and Charlotte while we get a handle on things? Little or I will be talking with
you shortly.”

  I swallowed. “Sure,” I squeaked, and retreated.

  I joined Juliet and Charlotte on the steps. Juliet had her arm wrapped around the Amish girl’s shoulders. I wondered if Juliet knew Charlotte well or if it was just her maternal instinct kicking in.

  Charlotte was pale to begin with, but her face had blanched to the color of printer paper.

  Juliet looked up at me. “What about Jethro? Should we keep looking for him?”

  “We can,” I said. “But for now, we should wait here. I don’t think Aiden and the other officers would like it if we started traipsing all over the church. I imagine they plan to search the whole building for any evidence of the crime. If Jethro is inside the church, someone will find him.”

  By the organ’s door, Aiden and Little spoke with the crime scene techs.

  “It’s going to be a trick to remove the body without knocking it all over the place. Whoever put her in there must have been crazy strong and flexible,” a crime scene tech said.

  “So we’re looking for a gymnast,” another tech joked.

  “Wait until the coroner arrives,” Aiden said. “He’s removed bodies from trickier spots. He’ll have some ideas about how to do it and still preserve the scene. Do what you can taking photos and gathering evidence until he gets here.” Then Aiden walked over to Juliet, Charlotte, and me.

  The deputy squatted in front of the young Amish woman. “Can you tell me what you saw?”

  Little stood behind him with notebook in hand, taking copious notes. He should have been a court reporter instead of a cop, I thought.

  Charlotte blinked at him with her round hazel eyes. She looked so confused, I felt an overwhelming urge to shield her. It appeared by the way Aiden’s face softened that he felt the same way. “How did you find her?”

  “I—I opened the door to the organ chamber, and I saw—I saw her hand. I screamed, and then Bailey came rushing in behind me.”

  Juliet squeezed the girl’s shoulder.

  Aiden shot me a look, and I met his gaze with an even, unapologetic stare.

  “Why did you open the organ door?” he asked the girl, turning back to Charlotte.

  She rubbed her cheeks with the palms of her hands until the skin was pink. “The organ sounded off. The keys were making the wrong sounds. That can happen every so often when one of the keys is bumped. The slightest adjustment inside the instrument can change the tone completely,” she said, sounding a little more confident when speaking about the organ. “The organist has taught me how to care for the organ as well as play it. He says it’s important to know what’s wrong with the organ and identify the problems in the instrument.”

  “Do they have organs in Amish churches?” I asked.

  Aiden shot me a look but didn’t say anything to squelch my question.

  Charlotte licked her bloodless lips, which were the same pale color as her cheeks. “No, no, they do not.”

  “But you are Amish and playing the organ,” Aiden said.

  “I am,” was her simple answer.

  Aiden seemed to consider this but made no further comment. I knew what he was thinking. He was thinking that this detail was important. I was thinking that too. Why it was important was still unknown.

  “So the body bumped the pipes and caused their tone to change,” Aiden said.

  She shook her head. “I think it was leaning against the pipes and against the trackers. I noticed many of them were broken.”

  “Trackers. What are those?” Aiden asked.

  “They are narrow strips of wood that open and close the pipes. Depending on the tracker, you can change the sound a certain pipe can make.” Charlotte seemed to become more relaxed as she spoke about the organ itself. It was evident that she had a deep affection for the powerful instrument. “I hope the church will be able to have them repaired. It’s a beautiful instrument. The best organ in the area. That’s why I come here to practice.”

  Aiden rocked back on his heels. “And did you recognize the woman inside the organ?”

  I opened my mouth to tell him that I had already identified the body as Josephine Weaver, but before I could, the color drained from Charlotte’s face again. “Of course, I recognized her. She’s my aunt, and she’s dead because of me.”

  “Your aunt?” Aiden asked the question that was on the tip of my tongue. “The woman in the organ is your aunt?”

  She nodded and stared down at the hands folded in her lap. “She’s my Aunt Josephine, my uncle’s wife.”

  Her aunt. Josephine Weaver was Charlotte’s aunt? No wonder the girl was so shaken by finding the body. It must have been doubly shocking to discover that her aunt was dead. I frowned. Why hadn’t she said that when we first found the body? I know that we were all in shock—we were still in shock—but it seemed to me that this was an important detail she would normally have mentioned in the moment.

  “Why do you think she is dead because of you?” Aiden asked in a deceptively calm and even tone.

  She licked her lips. “Because I am here. She did not approve of me playing the organ. She made her opinion very clear on that.”

  “But did you put her in the organ?” Even as I asked this, I knew it was impossible. Josephine was small, but Charlotte was just as slight. I couldn’t imagine the girl lifting Josephine’s dead weight above her ankles, let alone above her head.

  Aiden shot me a look, and Little’s pencil was suspended in the air as his brow wrinkled, making him look more like a middle school student than a police officer.

  One of the crime scene techs popped his head out of the organ. “Brody, you might want to come and look at this. We found something.”

  Aiden pressed his lips together. “Little and I will check the scene. Wait here, please,” he said to the three of us.

  Aiden and Little walked back to the organ, and I was about follow when the church door opened again, and the county coroner marched into the church. All those years in Manhattan and I had had only one uncomfortable interaction with the police. Here, in what was supposed to be serene Amish Country, where conversation should be about quilts and cheese making, too many of my conversations had been about murder.

  Juliet stood up. “I know Aiden won’t like this, but I’m going to go find Reverend Brook. This is his church.” She patted Charlotte on the shoulder. “You stay here with Bailey. She’ll take good care of you.”

  Before I could protest, Juliet walked down the side aisle of the church and through a doorway that I assumed led to a set of stairs. The church was a huge maze of a building, and I wouldn’t be able to tell Aiden where his mother had gone if he asked me.

  “We didn’t really formerly meet. I’m Bailey King,” I said to Charlotte.

  “I know. You’re Cousin Clara’s granddaughter.”

  I blinked at her. “Cousin Clara?”

  “Your grandmother is my cousin.” She gave me a wobbly smile. “You’re my cousin too.”

  My grandmother had never mentioned any cousins to me in all my life. I wanted to ask Charlotte more about this, but she took in a sharp breath. “It’s my fault.” Her breathing grew shallow.

  I studied her. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m a little dizzy, and I’m hot,” she whispered. “Is it hot in here?”

  I shook my head. In fact, there was a chill in the wide and cavernous sanctuary that came in every time someone opened the doors.

  “I think I might pass out,” she whispered.

  I touched her arm. “Why don’t we step outside for a moment? It looks like you could use a break from all of this.” I figured if Aiden’s own mother could disobey his orders and leave the sanctuary, I could too.

  Charlotte nodded, and I helped her to her feet. She stood on shaky legs. I started to lead her down the side aisle where Aiden’s mother had gone.

  “Wait.”

  I spun around to find Aiden coming down the aisle behind us.

  “Where are you going?” he asked.

  I frowned at him
. “I’m just going to take Charlotte outside for some air. She doesn’t need to be here for the removal of Josephine’s body. She doesn’t need that image in her memory.”

  Charlotte clung to my arm as if it was the only thing that was holding her up. I suspected it was.

  He sighed. “Fine, but stay in front of the church.” He stared at me. “Please don’t go any further than that.”

  I nodded agreement and turned Charlotte back toward the door.

  When we walked outside the church, I had a clear view of the activity on the square. The three judges were moving from table to table, tasting the licorice samples. The ACC judging was going on as if nothing had happened, but a handful of tourists pointed at the ambulances and police cars parked in front of First Church. It wouldn’t be long before the word was out about Josephine Weaver’s death.

  There was a tug on my arm as Charlotte lowered herself to the second-to-last church step, taking me with her. She took a deep breath and seemed to regain some composure.

  As I sat beside her, I wanted to ask about her aunt’s death, but I didn’t want to intrude on her grief. My own grief over the death of my grandfather was still near the surface of my emotions, and we might both end up crying.

  We sat quietly for a full minute until Charlotte said, “I—I can’t believe this happened. I didn’t mean—” She stopped in mid-speech when a buggy pulled into the church parking lot. She jumped to her feet.

  The buggy was one of the most lavish I’d ever seen. The battery-powered headlights were polished, and the sides of the buggy gleamed as if the exterior had just been waxed.

  “Oh no,” Charlotte said in a low voice. “Oh no.”

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  “Whoa,” said a voice from the buggy.

  An Amish man who was close to my own age, maybe a little bit older, jumped from the driver’s seat and tethered his horse to the hitching post in one fluid movement. He was muscular and compact and wore a plain blue shirt under his suspenders. No coat despite the October chill. The sun reflected off his chestnut-colored hair.

  A second man also exited the buggy at a much slower pace. I would guess he was twenty years older than the first man and had a grizzled red beard. However, he too moved with the ease of someone who had labored most of his life.