Lethal Licorice

by Amanda Flower

  Aiden cleared his throat. “There has been an incident at the church.”

  “The church?” Margot cried. “Then it would have nothing to do with the ACC. Go tell Reverend Brook about it and leave us alone.”

  “We have spoken to the reverend, but we also need to speak with everyone who was on the square during the morning. That includes the people in your contest.”

  “What has happened that is important enough to interrupt the judging? You must give me a much better reason than saying there’s an ‘incident.’ Is this about your mother’s pig? I heard about the creature running off.”

  “This doesn’t have anything to do with my mother,” Aiden said calmly.

  By this point, their conversation had garnered the attention of the two Amish judges and most of the contestants, who were inching forward as if to overhear what Aiden and Margot were discussing.

  If I had thought that the Amish weren’t interested in gossip, seeing them close in on Margot and Aiden like a pack of hungry wolves would have changed my mind in an instant.

  Aiden noticed the crowd gathering too. “Margot, let’s talk over here in private.” He nodded to the gazebo.

  She scowled and stood there for a moment as if she was considering his suggestion. Finally, after what seemed like a purposely long beat, she followed him to the other side of the gazebo.

  The two Amish judges and the contestants went back to their tables with an air of disappointment. I wasn’t so easily discouraged. I slid around the side of my table to follow them.

  “Bailey, what about the taffy?” Emily asked.

  I held up my finger to her, indicating that I needed just one minute. The crime scene tech didn’t seem to notice when I strolled by him on my way to the gazebo. He was too busy fidgeting with the radio attached to his belt.

  I wove through a group of tourists who were walking around with plates of licorice samples. Several of them had samples from my table, and I realized that Josephine could have gotten a piece of my licorice from just about anyone on the square that day. I didn’t know if I found that discouraging or comforting.

  The crowd thinned as I drew closer to the large white gazebo. I circled the structure and stopped when I spotted Margot and Aiden facing off just a few feet away from me. Aiden’s back was to me. For that, I was grateful. I didn’t want him to know I was there. He would only assume I was meddling in his investigation again. That wasn’t what I was doing, at least not yet, but if my licorice was somehow connected to Josephine’s death, I wanted to know about it. I realized that just an hour ago, I had accidently eavesdropped on Aiden’s conversation. Now I was doing it intentionally. I doubted he would see the difference between the two instances if he found out.

  “Josephine Weaver is dead!” Margot cried loud enough for everyone on the square to hear.

  Behind me there was an audible gasp from the Amish candy makers as they heard her outburst. Although Josephine wasn’t well liked—or at least she didn’t appear to be liked among the other candy makers—she was still respected as having one of the most successful Amish candy shops in the country. The news of her death sent a ripple effect through the crowd. Even at the distance I stood away from them, I heard the whispers traveling through the group.

  I looked behind me and scanned the faces of the candy makers, looking for anyone who didn’t have the expected shocked reaction, anyone who had known that Josephine was dead before Margot’s outburst. I didn’t see any telltale signs. All the faces appeared equally shocked and alarmed at the news, or perhaps I had been too late in looking and had missed the telltale expression.

  “How did she die?” Margot asked at a more normal volume.

  “We believe it was related to her allergy to licorice,” Aiden said.

  “Licorice?” Margot gasped. “You think someone in the ACC had something to do with her death? You think one of us killed her?”

  He ignored her question and asked, “Did you know of her anise allergy?”

  Margot frowned. “Yes, I knew. She made a big stink about licorice being part of the competition. She thought it should be removed because of her allergy. However, the other judges and I agreed that it should stay in. Black licorice is a traditional Amish candy and had to be represented. We didn’t remove peanut brittle from the competition for those who might have a nut allergy, which is far more common.”

  “And she made licorice to participate?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “No, her assistant made the licorice and was there for the judging. That was the one exception we made for Josephine. We didn’t require her to even be at her table when her shop’s licorice was judged. Her assistant took her place for the licorice round.”

  I felt my eyebrows go up. This made sense to me. I had wondered why no one had asked where Josephine was during the judging when Emily had practically panicked because I’d almost missed the licorice judging myself.

  “Lindy Beiler?” Aiden asked.

  Margot nodded.

  “What was Josephine’s relationship with Lindy like?”

  “Well, I—I don’t know,” Margot stammered.

  “What was your relationship with Josephine like?” Aiden asked.

  Margot shook her index finger at him. “What are trying to say, Deputy? That I might know something about what happened to Josephine? Is that what you are trying to get at?”

  Aiden held up his hands in a sign of surrender. “I’m only trying to understand Josephine’s place in the ACC. That’s all.” He paused and then asked, “Would there be anyone here at the competition who might have had a problem with her?”

  Margot lowered her hand. “You mean enough of a problem to kill her? That’s what you are really asking me, Deputy, is it not? Do you think one of my competitors was murdered with licorice?” She couldn’t have asked the question any louder unless she’d shouted it.

  “I think it might be better if you and I went to my cruiser to discuss this,” Aiden said.

  “Your cruiser? Are you arresting me? I am not getting into your car.”

  “I’m not arresting you,” he said evenly. “But it would be much better to have some privacy while we discuss what might have happened to Josephine. We could go to my car or speak in the church.”

  “I’m not going anywhere. I’m in the middle of judging, and I can’t leave.” She leaned toward him and pointed. From where I stood, it appeared that her index finger was just inches from his face.

  “What’s going on here?” a deep voice boomed across the square.

  I turned to see Sheriff Jack Marshall lumbering across the grass. He was a large man; if he didn’t tip the scale at three hundred pounds, it was close. His belly hung over his duty belt, and he had a rolling, bowlegged way of walking. Unlike Aiden, he didn’t wear a departmental hat as part of his uniform. His hair was closely cropped to his head, military style.

  Aiden turned around and saw the small crowd that had gathered behind him while he and Margot had been talking. I was certain he had taken in everyone who was there, but his eyes focused on me before he moved his gaze to the sheriff. He didn’t look any more pleased to see his boss than I was.

  “Brody, what’s going on here?” Sheriff Marshall hooked his thumbs through the loops in his duty belt.

  “Sheriff,” Aiden began.

  Before he could explain, Margot jumped in. “Your deputy is trying to shut down the Amish Confectionery Competition. He doesn’t understand how important this competition is to the village and the entire county.”

  “I never said that,” Aiden protested. “We do need to interrupt the competition for a few minutes to speak to potential witnesses.”

  Margot waggled her index finger at him. Her index finger was certainly getting a workout. “Don’t try to change your tune now. I know what you’re getting at, and I won’t allow it. This competition is too important.”

  Marshall cocked one eyebrow. “I agree. The county wants to see this event be successful.”

  Aiden grimaced at
the sheriff’s statement, and I wondered if there was something more to it. Did he not agree with the sheriff’s statement? I knew the Amish Confectionery Competition was important to Harvest and Holmes County. It was bringing in a flood of tourists, and tourism was how both jurisdictions made their money. It was how Swissmen Sweets made money too.

  “I understand that,” Aiden said. “However, a crime has been committed, and I believe there is a connection to this competition.”

  Margot put her hands on her hips. “Just because busybody Josephine Weaver went and got herself killed, it doesn’t mean we should ruin a good thing for the rest of the county.”

  “I agree,” Marshall said.

  Aiden opened his mouth as if to protest, but Marshall was faster. “Here’s what we do, because Brody is right. We have to investigate the Amish woman’s death.” He made this statement with an odd lilt of reluctance. “Margot, you continue on with your candy-making shindig, and Deputy Brody and my other deputies will quietly and discreetly talk to the people right here.” He narrowed his eyes at Aiden. “And we will do our best not to disturb what the village and Margot have worked so hard to build up.”

  “I already told you, sir, that I had no plans to shut down the competition.” Aiden’s jaw twitched.

  The sheriff nodded. “I’m glad you’re willing to listen to reason, Deputy.” He paused. “For once. It will be good for us all if you remember your place throughout this investigation.”

  Aiden made a face, and I was confused by the sheriff’s comment. It was as if the two men were having a conversation about the Amish Confectionery Competition, but that wasn’t all there was to it. There was a much less friendly debate going on just beneath the surface.

  “But it is important that we talk to the contestants to find out if anyone saw anything that might tell us when Josephine was exposed to the licorice,” Aiden added. “We will be discreet.”

  Margot threw up her hands. “There is licorice on every table. It could have happened at any time, and I already told you Josephine had voiced her concerns and would have known to stay away from it. I can’t see her seeking it out.”

  “Perhaps it was an accident,” the sheriff mused. “Maybe she ate something that contained anise without knowing it.”

  Even as he said this, I knew Aiden didn’t believe it was an accident. That would be saying that Josephine had climbed into the organ of her own accord after eating licorice. Why would she do that? Why would anyone in their right mind do that? I had no reason to suspect that Josephine had been unstable. She had spoken very succinctly about wanting to boot me from the ACC just before she died.

  And clearly, she knew about her licorice allergy since she hadn’t been shy about telling others of it. She wouldn’t have hidden away after eating the candy. She would have asked for help. That would have been the logical thing to do, and my impression of Josephine was that she knew exactly what she was doing in all things.

  “That seems unlikely, Sheriff,” Aiden said in measured tones.

  The sheriff rested his right hand on his belly as if it was a shelf put there purposely for that reason. “Don’t be an alarmist, Brody. Margot, you know that we will do our best to get to the bottom of this, but like you, I see no need to halt the competition. Brody will take a few samples from each contestant’s table and ask a question or two, but it won’t be anything more than that.”

  Margot beamed at the sheriff. “I’m glad that we could come to some sort of agreement. Now, if you gentlemen will excuse me, I have more licorice to judge.” She spun on her heel and returned to Beatrice and Jeremiah.

  “What’s the problem?” the sheriff asked Aiden in an affectedly jovial tone. “I came over because there’s been another suspicious death in our sweet town. As sheriff, I’m doing my utmost to stop the crime that is pouring into Holmes County from more urban places, destroying the innocence of this county.” He said this as if he were recording a sound bite.

  Aiden’s jaw twitched again. “I would like to discuss the case with you in a more private setting, sir. Maybe we should return to the crime scene to talk.”

  The sheriff shook his head. “It’s your job to investigate, Brody. It is my job to keep the public calm and happy.”

  It sounded like a campaign slogan to me. Not for the first time, I wondered how much police work Sheriff Marshall actually did. It appeared to me that a lot of the weight of it fell on Aiden.

  Marshall clapped his hand on Aiden’s shoulder and lowered his voice. “Let’s get this cleaned up quick, Brody. I have a reelection to worry about.”

  Chapter 10

  I returned to my table with the sheriff’s last words to Aiden playing repeatedly in my mind. I have a reelection to worry about. Did he? Did he really? As far as I knew, the sheriff ran uncontested and was sure to win. Had a new candidate thrown his hat into the ring? If he or even she had, I would be more than happy to hear it. When I got a chance, I would ask Aiden about this.

  I glanced over at Aiden where he stood with two other deputies, one of whom was Deputy Little. The trio was deep in conversation. My question for Aiden would have to wait.

  Behind my table, Emily wrung her hands.

  “Emily, what’s the matter?”

  She blinked. “Beatrice just told me that we are moving on to the next round. Two contestants have been eliminated. Between you and me, I thought we were doomed, especially when the judges didn’t care for the S’s in the licorice.” She held up her hands. “I’m not saying that the S’s were a mistake at all. All the tourists coming by loved them and have been taking handfuls of samples. They do make your candies so pretty. I keep pointing people across to Swissmen Sweets and telling them that’s where they could buy an entire box.”

  I laughed. “I’m glad we advanced to the next round. For a moment there, I wasn’t sure it was going to happen either. Beatrice didn’t seem to care for me.”

  Emily shrugged and returned to the sugar melting in a double boiler on the propane burner, just as I had taught her to do. In the weeks after my grandfather’s death, Emily had become a fixture at Swissmen Sweets. She often came to the shop in the early morning before it opened, when Maami and I were making the candies to be sold in the shop that day. She was curious and eager to learn about candy making, and the lessons that Maami and I gave her momentarily distracted us from the grief of losing my grandfather. I knew, too, that she visited Swissmen Sweets to escape the watchful eye of her disagreeable sister.

  “I started the taffy,” Emily said. “I didn’t know how long you would be.”

  I smiled. “I’m glad you did. The head start is appreciated.”

  “I’m so happy we are moving on,” Emily said, but then lowered her voice. “But what is going on? Everyone is whispering about something that might have happened at the church. Is that why the police are here? Someone said that the competition might stop for the day.”

  I swallowed and whispered, “The competition will go on. The sheriff promised Margot that it would, but there has been an accident at the church.”

  She stared at me with round eyes.

  “Josephine Weaver is dead. The police are trying to figure out what may have happened.”

  She gasped. “Josephine? What? How?”

  I shook my head. “I will have to tell you later, or Aiden will. He’s going to speak to all of the candy makers. I assume that includes both of us.”

  She wrung her hands again. “I don’t want to speak to the police.”

  “It’s just Aiden,” I reassured her.

  She bit her lip and nodded. She would be able to speak to Aiden. The sheriff was a different story. I didn’t want to speak to the sheriff either.

  “Let’s work on this taffy while we wait,” I said gently.

  She nodded and stirred the sugar on the burner. Like many Amish, she seemed calmer when she was working.

  I started gathering the other taffy ingredients from our supply crates. We had decided to make two kinds of taffy, sour apple and peppe
rmint, for the next round of the competition. “Do we know who was cut from the competition?” I asked.

  Emily nodded her head toward the next table, where Haddie smacked her wooden crate of supplies onto the middle of the table and began packing.

  “She didn’t make it,” Emily whispered.

  “I can see that,” I whispered back. Because of the success of her shop, I was surprised Haddie hadn’t been chosen to move forward. Yes, the judges thought her licorice was on the grainy side, but I wasn’t naïve. I knew how most competitions worked. I thought the judges would have kept her in because of the star power—if there was such a thing in Amish candy making—she brought into the competition. Perhaps I had unfairly judged the ACC judges.

  “What do the candy makers do when the competition is over for them?” Emily whispered.

  “I’m sure they could stay and see how the competition turned out, but I suppose a lot of them will go home right away.” I added four drops of sour apple extract to the mixture in the double boiler.

  “That’s what I would do,” she said.

  I nodded agreement.

  Haddie lifted her crate and stomped away from her table. She marched past us without even a backward glance. Instead, she walked up to another Amish candy maker’s table. The woman was stirring her own taffy mixture when Haddie said something to her in Pennsylvania Dutch. I couldn’t understand a word of it, but if the icy tone was any indication, Haddie wasn’t wishing the other Amish woman well.

  Emily took a sharp breath at our single burner. She had heard the exchange, and unlike me, she had understood it.

  I put the cap back on the tiny bottle of extract and set it in our own crate of supplies. “What did she say? Who is she talking to?”

  Emily ducked her head and mumbled, “That’s Lindy Beiler.”

  I looked at the dark-haired Amish woman with wire-rimmed glasses. Her face was bright red. I suspected her flushed skin was more a result of Haddie’s passing comment than the boiling pot on her stove top. “Lindy? Do you mean Josephine’s assistant Lindy?”

  Emily nodded. “That’s Berlin Candies’ table. Berlin Candies won the licorice round with the highest points.”