The small group of tourists clapped, and I winked at them. “You will all have to come back when it’s ready to eat.”
Emily grinned and covered the pan with aluminum foil. “Do you want me to take it to the church to cool?”
The one modern convenience allowed the ACC contestants was the use of the church’s freezer to cool our candies, including the fudge. There was no way the fudge would set in time without a freezer, and it would have been far too difficult to have a propane-powered freezer sitting in the middle of the square.
I shook my head. “Let me do it.”
She rolled her eyes as if she knew that I was motivated to go to the church by more than fudge. I didn’t set her straight because she was right. “I’ll be back in a jiffy.”
“Sure, you will,” she said.
I’d turned the Amish girl into a cynic. I picked up a dish towel and carefully lifted the pan.
I wasn’t the only ACC contestant taking my fudge over to the freezer. Lindy, Josephine’s assistant, was a few yards in front of me as I made my way across the square. Taking care not to drop my pan of hot fudge, I increased my pace and fell into step beside her. “That looks great,” I said, nodding at her pan.
She looked down at her maple fudge. “This was Josephine’s favorite flavor. I decided to make it in her honor.”
“That was kind of you. I’m sure she would be proud of you for continuing.”
She shrugged. “She would be happy that I’m going on, but I don’t know that she would be proud. I don’t know if Josephine was proud of anyone, not even herself.”
I studied her as we walked. “What do you mean?”
She shook her head. “It’s a terrible loss.”
I bit my lip in disappointment. I knew she had been on the cusp of telling me something about Josephine’s character. If I understood who Josephine was, I knew that I would be better able to understand why someone had murdered her. Her church deacon had called her a meddler, but there had to be more to her character than just that. People had many parts to them, and those various parts played many roles in their lives.
Lindy picked up her pace as we reached the church parking lot and walked around to the back side. I increased my pace to keep up with her.
She smiled. “We should hurry to get our fudge chilling as fast as possible.”
She was right. When we came around the side of the church, I saw that the fence was freshly painted and the WET PAINT sign firmly in place on it. My eyes traveled over the fence and into the cemetery, and fell onto the mausoleum.
“Bailey?” Lindy held the back door to the church for me.
I shook off the odd feeling that hung over me and slipped through the door.
The church’s large white kitchen was crowded as candy makers jostled to make room for their fudge in the large freezer.
Jeremiah stood beside the freezer, presiding over the whole thing. “Looks like we will have just enough room for all our entries. It’s going to be snug, but I can make it work.” He chuckled.
Lindy handed him her pan of fudge, and he slid it into one the few spaces left. She murmured her thanks.
“Bailey,” Jeremiah said in his booming voice. “It’s so nice to see you here delivering your fudge yourself. You know, I expected that you would have Emily make the delivery. I’ve noticed that you have been absent from your table a time or two over the last two days.”
I winced. “I’m sorry about that. It’s just . . .” I trailed off. I couldn’t very well say, “It’s just that I’m trying to solve a murder, and it’s taking up a great deal of my time.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t let Margot or Beatrice know about your little trips away from the table.” His slid my tray of fudge into the last open place in the freezer.
“Thanks, Jeremiah. At least I know one of the judges is being understanding.”
He grinned. “Margot and Beatrice are understanding in their own way.”
I wrinkled my nose.
He laughed. “You have been at the table during the judging, and that’s when it really counts. Are you looking forward to the big announcement of the overall winner? Many of the other candy makers are on the edge of their seats, waiting for the news. It’s a great honor to win. It could be a real boon to any candy shop.”
I nodded. It would be great for Swissmen Sweets if I came home with the win in the ACC, but I didn’t know how that would happen with Beatrice as one of the judges. “I don’t think I stand much of chance of winning the whole thing.”
He shook his head. “Don’t sell yourself short. I’ve been very impressed with each one of your entries. All the candies you’ve made taste like they were made by Amish hands.”
I smiled. “If my fudge does well, I’ll be happy. Since I am a chocolatier, my fudge is a matter of pride.”
He chuckled again and closed the freezer door. “May the best fudge win!”
Across the room, the candy makers filed out the back door of the kitchen. Lindy was at the end of the line. There were still a few questions I wanted to ask Josephine’s assistant, but first, I asked Jeremiah, “Is there any way to put Susan back in the competition? You have to agree with me that someone tampered with her stove.”
He held onto his overalls as if doing so helped him stand upright. “I understand your concern, but to let anyone back into the ACC after being dismissed, there must be a unanimous agreement among the judges. I believe you’re right that someone tampered with Susan’s stove, and she has a right to participate, but the judges must agree to let someone back in. I was the only one who wanted Susan to rejoin the competition. My hands are tied.” He raised his hands as if to illustrate the point.
“And you were unanimous on bringing Haddie Smucker back?” I asked.
He sighed. “Not at first, but eventually, yes.”
I wanted to ask him what that meant, but out of the corner of my eye, I saw Lindy slip out the kitchen door. I thanked Jeremiah, told him I would see him at the judging, and hurried after her.
Lindy sighed as I caught up to her just outside the back door. “I feel better now that I know my fudge is cooling. All we can do now is wait. It will be what it will be.” She smiled. “My grandmother used to say that all the time.”
“Are you close to your grandmother?”
“I was. She died when I was a teenager.”
“I’m so sorry,” I murmured.
“Danki. We should go back to our tables. I know Margot wants us to be there as much as possible so that we can talk to the tourtists. The ACC has been a boon for the town.”
I followed around the side of the church. “It has. Except . . .”
She nodded. “Except.”
She sighed. “I don’t know what is going to happen to her shop or me now that Josephine is gone. It will belong to her family.”
“What family did she have?”
“She never spoke of any siblings. The only family I know of is the Weavers, her husband’s family.” Lindy twisted the end of her apron and then let it fall. “I suppose it will be Sol Weaver’s decision.”
It was interesting to know that her brother-in-law would be the one making the decision about her shop. “Was Sol an owner in her shop?”
She shook her head. “Nee, but Josephine’s husband is dead, and she didn’t have any children. Her brother-in-law is the head of the family, so it will be up to him.”
I knew that Berlin Candies was a successful shop. Would Sol Weaver kill his sister-in-law to take over her business?
“Have you heard from Sol at all about the matter? Does he know what he would like to do?”
She picked up the end of her apron again. “Nee, I’m sure he’s waiting until things settle down, and I know he will want to consult with the district leaders. It might be some time before I know whether I’ll be staying on permanently at the candy shop.”
“Are you afraid you will lose your job?”
She nodded. “If they decide to hire someone else or decide to close the s
hop altogether, I’m gone. I need this work. Josephine knew that. In fact . . .” She stopped herself from finishing that thought.
“In fact, what?” I asked.
“Nothing.” She smiled. “I know that your grandfather would be proud of you for winning the taffy round, and everyone expects you to take fudge too. You might win the entire thing, Bailey. Josephine worried about that because she knew how talented you are.”
And there was my motive for murder laid out on a silver platter. I was Josephine’s greatest rival, at least as far as she was concerned.
We had reached the church’s parking lot by this point, and I knew I wouldn’t have much more time to talk to her. “I heard that Josephine didn’t get along with the owner of the hardware store next to her shop.”
She dropped her apron and smoothed it over her legs. “You must mean Jeffrey Galwin. He and Josephine didn’t get along. They were always at odds.”
“About what?” I asked.
“About everything. Where he parked his car, that her buggy horse blocked his view of the street, that her trash can was turned over in the middle of the night—she insisted he did it out of spite. The two of them were always at each other’s throats. I can’t tell you the number of times that I was working in the shop and Jeffrey would come stomping in yelling about something else Josephine had done. He would scare off our customers. Josephine would be so upset about it.”
“That would have upset me too,” I said.
She nodded. “Anyone would be, but Josephine did just the same to him. She would stomp into his store and scare his customers away.” She chuckled. “They may be from two different worlds, but they are very much alike. Maybe that’s why they didn’t get along. At least that’s what I always thought.” She lowered her voice. “I would never have told Josephine. She wouldn’t have liked in the least to be told that she was like Jeffrey.”
It seemed that I needed to speak with Jeffrey Galwin, but that would have to wait until the ACC ended.
“Do you think Jeffrey could have gotten angry enough to hurt her?” I asked Lindy.
She wrinkled her nose. “He didn’t like her, that is certain, but he had been her neighbor in Berlin for over ten years. Why would he wait so long and put up with so much, only to do something now? He is a hothead, but so was Josephine.”
I had witnessed Josephine’s anger firsthand. Had Jeffrey’s been worse? Had his been violent enough for him to kill someone?
Chapter 26
When we reached the front of the church, Lindy waved at an Amish man. “That’s my husband. I should go see what he might need.” She smiled shyly at me. “You’ve been very kind.”
I could go back to my table and wait for the fudge to set for judging, or I could finally peek at the scene of the crime. Of course, I chose option two. I glanced back and forth to make sure neither Aiden nor any other sheriff’s deputies were around before I ran up the church steps to the main entrance. I placed my hand on the door and opened it easily.
I stepped into the wide entry in front of the sanctuary doors. Faintly, I could hear voices floating down the hallway from where I knew the fellowship hall and kitchen were. I wondered if any last-minute candy makers were bringing fudge over to the church to chill. The judging of the fudge was in ninety minutes. The fudge would need all that time to set up even in the deep freezer.
The oak doors between the entry and the sanctuary opened inward. I pushed one, and the fall wreath hanging in the middle of it rocked back and forth on its nail.
The large overhead lights were off, but enough light poured in through the windows for me to see every corner of the expansive room. As always, the organ dominated the middle of the sanctuary. The only indication that anything sinister had occurred in what should have been a hallowed place was a band of crime scene tape across the small door that led into the inner workings of the organ.
A small figure with unmistakable strawberry-blond hair and a white prayer cap sat in the front pew with her head bent.
The heavy church door that I had been holding opened slipped from my fingers. Before I could catch it, it slammed with a resounding thud, and Charlotte jumped out of her seat and spun around.
“It’s just me.” I waved.
She had a hand over her chest. “You scared me, Bailey.”
I walked down the center aisle toward her. “I’m so sorry about that.”
She leaned back in her seat and stared forward again. “It’s all right.”
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
“I wanted to play the organ. The playing soothes me when I’m upset. It wasn’t until I was here that I remembered that I can’t do that. I have a lot of big decisions to make, and I thought playing would help. I was praying for guidance.”
I eyed her. “And did you find that guidance?”
She dropped her eyes to the hands folded on her lap. “I don’t know.”
“Aiden is looking for you,” I said.
She licked her lips. “The deputy is the least of my problems.”
I wasn’t so sure of that.
“I wish I could play,” she said barely above a whisper. “Maybe through playing, I would know what I have to do. Whether I have to give it up or the music is what Gott wants for me.”
“I thought you had already decided to leave the Amish.”
“Almost.” She bit her lip. “But if I am leaving, I owe it to my family to tell them. My father will be very angry. He will all but shun me, and I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if the deacon asks him to do that permanently unless I return and do exactly as he says.” She looked down at her hands again. “He would, you know, and my father would follow the deacon’s lead. My father has always obeyed the leaders of the district. It doesn’t matter how wrong they might be. He says that Gott tells us to obey, and we must.”
“And you don’t believe that?” I asked quietly.
She shook her head. “How can we obey someone as cruel as Deacon Clapp? He makes up most of his rules not because of what Gott wants, but because he has the power to do so. He knows that the members of the district will do whatever he says. He is the one who said my playing the organ was wrong. The deacon we had before never said a word about it, but as soon as Deacon Clapp was blessed as the next deacon, this”—she pointed at the beautiful instrument—“was a sin.”
“He has the power to do that? I thought the bishop oversees the district.”
She looked at her hands. “Our bishop is very old, and he’s tired. I heard my parents talking about him once. They said they believe the bishop is relieved to let the deacon make most of the decisions.” She looked up at me. “I did try to talk to the bishop once about the organ and what Deacon Clapp had said about it, but he fell asleep just when I was asking him to intercede.”
“A new deacon can come in and change everything? Even the rules of how to live?”
She nodded. “He can. He was appointed to the job by Gott. We should not question Gotte’s choice, but I can’t help questioning. I know that’s wrong, but Gott gave me this talent. Am I supposed to turn my back on it? Is that what He would really have me do?”
“I’m not the one to ask,” I said. “My faith is wobbly at best.”
She studied me. “Do you not believe in Gott?”
I sat next to her in the pew. I examined the organ, the pulpit, and the altar as I mulled over my answer. It was not a clear yes or no question for me. “I do,” I said finally. “But I’m not sure it’s your God or the God of my grandparents either.”
“It is,” she said with more confidence than I would have thought possible for someone so torn by the choices she had to make. “Just sitting here, I know I have to leave the Amish way because it’s not allowing me to praise Gott as I see fit. Praise can be expressed through music and even through making candy.” She smiled at me when she said that.
“Like your aunt did.”
She frowned. “Ya, I suppose. That was Aunt Josephine’s way to praise Gott.”
> “Tell me about your uncle,” I said.
She raised her eyebrows. “My aunt’s husband?”
I nodded. “What happened to him?
“He died when I was six. It was a buggy accident. He was a big man, and I always thought that he was a little scary. Like my father, he was a stern man, but he seemed more frightening when I was a child because of his size. When I was little, I remember that I liked Aunt Josephine very much; she was kind then. It seemed that she changed after Uncle Hiram’s death. She became more like he had been.”
“Did she ever remarry?”
She shook her head. “Nee, but I overheard my mother once telling a friend that another farmer was interested in my aunt. She was a beautiful woman, especially when she was young. I guess I was nine when I remember my mother telling her friend this. Aunt Josephine wanted nothing to do with the other man. My mother said Josephine told her that she would never marry again. By that time, she already had ideas of opening a candy shop in Berlin. She had always been good at baking and making candies.”
“Tell me about the buggy accident.”
She shook her head. “I don’t remember the accident. I wasn’t there, and I was very young at the time. I can only tell you what I’ve heard from my father.” She grimaced. “Uncle Hiram is a sore spot with my father. I think most days he likes to pretend that he didn’t have a brother. He would have done much better at pretending if my aunt hadn’t been around.”
“Why’s that?” I asked.
She bit her lip as if she realized that she had said too much already. Maybe she had.
“How did the accident happen? Was he hit by a car?”
She shook her head. “The buggy shop that my uncle owned, which is now my father’s, is at the top of a hill. The driveway is on a steep incline. My uncle was at the bottom of the hill, standing by himself, waiting for a delivery. One of the buggies at the top of the hill came loose and flew down the hill, hitting him. It killed him instantly. It was such a tragedy. I was very young, but I remember the crying. Aunt Josephine was never the same after that.”
Lethal Licorice Page 18