“How did she change?” I turned in my seat so that I could see her better.
“She became very strict. She thought that the Amish way was the only way to live. I heard my mother once say that Aunt Josephine had Englisch friends when she was young, but not after her husband died. She pulled away from the Englisch world. She took the money she had from my uncle and opened Berlin Candies, and her whole life became her candy shop. Well”—she paused—“that and correcting people. She loved to correct people.”
“She must have been happy that someone like Deacon Clapp took over the district.” I shifted my position on the hard pew.
She frowned. “Maybe. I don’t think the deacon cared for her opinions. Even if he might have agreed with them. She was a woman, and he didn’t want to hear ideas from her.”
I tried not to bristle at that comment. I was only moderately successful. I replayed the scene that Charlotte had described in my head. In my mind’s eye, I saw the buggy at the top of the hill and Hiram standing at the bottom, waiting for a delivery he would never receive. He was looking down the road, turned away from the shop. He might have been impatient, tapping his foot and eager to get back to work in his shop. Then he hears a buggy flying down the hillside. He doesn’t have enough time to jump out of the way. He’s hit, and everything goes dark.
“I’m confused,” Charlotte said. “I don’t know what I want. For the first time in my life, I don’t have a plan.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “And that scares me.”
I patted her arm, feeling like the older woman giving advice to the young when in reality I was only a few years older than Charlotte. “Well, right now, you are going to go over to Swissmen Sweets and help out my grandmother. She always says to me that you can find your purpose in the work yet to be done.”
She smiled. “That’s very Amish of her.”
“I wouldn’t expect anything less.”
“I think you are right. I think helping Clara will clear my head.” She squeezed my hand briefly. “Both you and Clara have been so very nice to me. Believe me when I say that I won’t forget it. I will repay my debt to you someday.”
I shook my head. “There is no debt to repay. We’re family. That’s what family does.”
“I’m glad you moved here, Bailey.” Her face fell. “I’m going to need all the family I can find very soon.”
I wished I could tell her that wasn’t true, but I was afraid she just might be right.
Chapter 27
Charlotte stood up and headed out of the church, presumably to go to Swissmen Sweets and think over all the choices she would have to make sooner rather than later.
After she left, I stood and walked over to the organ. As tempted as I was to remove the crime scene tape and take another peek inside the instrument, I stopped myself. There was nothing else I would be able to find there.
Nonetheless, I was just reaching out for the door when a loud bang startled me. I turned around and saw the old hunched-over Amish woman I’d seen around the village over the last several days. My grandmother had said her name was Ruby.
She stood at the doors to the church and stared at me. I wondered for a moment if she was mute.
I walked down the steps from the platform at the front of the church. “Ruby?”
She looked up at me, but there was no expression on her face.
“My grandmother said you were Ruby.” I started down the aisle at a slow pace. I didn’t want to scare her away.
Behind me to the right of the pulpit, a door opened. I glanced over my shoulder to see Reverend Brook coming through the narrow doorway.
“Bailey,” Reverend Brook began. “I thought I heard voices. What are you doing in here? Are you still looking for Jethro?”
I turned to face him. “Jethro?” I asked.
“Juliet’s pig,” he said with a frown.
I blinked. “Yes, of course. I’m sorry. I was just talking to—”
He frowned. “You were talking to whom? There is no one else here.”
When I looked back, Ruby was gone.
“But she was here just a second ago,” I protested.
“Who was?” he asked.
I shook my head and hurried down the sanctuary’s center aisle. “I have to go, Reverend Brook. I haven’t see Jethro, but I’m still looking. I won’t give up until we find him.”
“Thank you,” he called after me. “That little pig is very important to Juliet.”
I burst out of the church doors and scanned the parking lot and the square from where I stood on the top step of the church. There was no sign of Ruby. That woman was eighty if she was a day. How could she move so fast? I hoped that I could move half as quickly when I was half her age. Had I really seen her? I was beginning to wonder if the old woman was just a figment of my imagination. Had the stress of my grandfather’s death and turning my life upside down by moving to Ohio caused me to see things that weren’t there? I shook my head. I might have believed that if my grandmother hadn’t told me the old woman’s name. Knowing she had a name and that that name was Ruby saved me from going absolutely crazy.
Whether I was crazy or not, I knew I wouldn’t be satisfied until I spoke to Ruby. My curiosity about the woman could not be pushed down any longer. I had to find her and talk to her, and I had to know if she knew anything about Josephine’s death. She continued to pop up rather frequently around the church and the square. Had she seen something related to the murder? Was she wandering around the area because she was trying to tell me something? Of course, if she was trying to tell me something, it would be helpful if she didn’t disappear so often.
I ran down the steps of the church and headed in the direction of the square. My grandmother had said that she lived over a yarn shop on Apple Street. I pulled my cell phone from the back pocket of my jeans and checked the time. There was still an hour before the fudge judging began. I told myself that I could get to the yarn shop and back in the time allowed. If Ruby wasn’t at the shop, then I would give up, for now at least.
I cut across the square on my way to Apple Street. As I did, I waved at Emily and held up two fingers to indicate that I would be back in two minutes. There was no way that I would be gone for only two minutes, but I had to tell her something.
The tourists, both English and Amish, seemed to be having a wonderful time sampling the free candies that each shop was offering to the crowd. I saw that my own table was quite busy. Laughter and excited voices filled the air, and I had to remind myself that a woman had been murdered just a few yards away from where everyone was having such a good time. My mind could not reconcile this terrible act and the gaiety of the crowd.
I ducked my head to keep from making eye contact with anyone as I dodged a buggy and ran across Main Street to the corner of Apple and Main. When I made it to the corner, I was shocked to look down Apple Street and see Ruby standing in front of the yarn shop. She nodded at me as if she had been waiting for me all this time. Maybe she had. Maybe that had been the reason she kept popping up, because she wanted me to follow her back to her home.
I hurried down the sidewalk just as she disappeared around the side of the building. I threw up my hands. Here we go again.
I went around the side of the yarn shop and found there was a set of wooden stairs that led to a second-floor apartment; it had to be Ruby’s apartment. The door was ajar as if inviting me in.
There was no point in turning back now, so I hurried up the creaky stairs and through the open door. When I crossed the threshold, I blinked as my eyes adjusted to the dim light. All the shades over the windows were closed tight. A lantern glowed on a small end table next to a rocking chair. It offered the only light in the sparsely furnished room other than the sunlight pouring in through the open door.
Ruby sat in the rocking chair. “There you are. I was wondering when you would come.”
I stepped farther into the room but left the door open behind me, not just for the much-needed light but for easy getaway. I didn’t th
ink a woman of Ruby’s age could hurt me, but the situation was so surreal, I wasn’t taking any chances.
“Ruby?” I asked.
She nodded.
“I’m—”
“Bailey,” she said, interrupting me. “I know, dear. I’ve been longing to talk to you.”
I squinted in the dim light. “If you have been wanting to talk to me, why do you keep disappearing?”
She smiled. “One must be patient and ready for the right time.”
“Why did you want to talk to me?”
Light from the lantern cast an orange glow on the right side of her face. “You are trying to find out what happened to Josephine Weaver, am I right?”
“Yes, but how do you know that?”
She smiled. “You should be careful, Bailey. Many people know that you are looking for the truth. Not all of them want you to find it.”
“You mean the killer,” I said.
She nodded.
My heart rate quickened. “Does that mean you know who the killer is? Please tell me or tell the police. Aiden Brody is very kind. He would be a good person to talk to.”
Her dry lips thinned as they stretched into a smile. “I know that you believe he is kind. I have seen how you look at him.” She paused. “And I have seen how he looks at you in return. It will be a good match in time.”
I found myself blushing. Just what I needed: another person in Holmes County who believed Aiden and I were destined to be together. “So, you will talk to him?” I asked.
She shook her head. “It is not the Amish way to get caught up with the police.”
“Not even in the case of murder?” I asked.
She shook her head again. “It is not the Amish way.”
“Will you tell me then? Did you see something?”
She closed her eyes for a moment as if trying to remember something, and I recalled that my grandmother had said Ruby wasn’t all there. Why was I even asking this woman questions about the murder? She was far from a reliable witness. Was I so lost when it came to Josephine’s murder that I had to rely on the ramblings of an old Amish woman who spent the majority of her time wandering around the village? But then again, if she spent the majority of her time wandering around the village, she might have seen something. The trick would be deciding how much of what she said was fact and how much the vague thoughts of a tired mind.
“I see many things because not many people notice me.” She looked me in the eye for the first time. “You noticed me, though.”
I shifted from foot to foot. Her penetrating gaze made me nervous. I much preferred when she didn’t look at me. “I did.”
She dropped her eyes to her lap. “Josephine wasn’t like you. She didn’t notice me.”
My pulse quickened. This was it. I was about to learn who the killer was. “Did you see the murder?”
She shook her head. “Nee. I only saw the pig and Josephine outside the church.”
“Josephine had Jethro?” I asked. This certainly was surprising news. Could it be that Jethro’s disappearance and the murder were related after all?
She nodded. “She shooed the animal away from her. Josephine never had any patience.”
“Where is Jethro now?” I asked excitedly. I couldn’t wait to reunite the pig with Juliet. She was sick with worry over him.
“I don’t know,” Ruby answered simply.
My shoulders sagged. “Oh. Then what did you see?”
“Ever since her husband’s death, Josephine has been angry. She’s wanted to know what really happened that day her husband died.”
“He died in a buggy accident. Charlotte told me that a buggy broke loose and struck him at the bottom of the hill.”
“An accident that someone else caused,” she said firmly.
“Are you saying Hiram Weaver was murdered?” I couldn’t keep the surprise out of my voice.
She shook her head. “I’m saying that someone else is responsible for his death. That is different but does not make the guilt the person feels any less. Love and hate are two sides of the same coin.” She rocked in her chair.
I shook my head. I felt like she was speaking to me in riddles.
“Now you should return to your candies. It won’t be long until this is all over. It will be over very soon.”
The way she said that made me wonder if some Amish believed in premonitions and second sight, but that didn’t seem to me to be a very Amish belief. Then again, I wouldn’t say that Ruby was a typical Amish woman.
“But you didn’t tell me anything. You have to know more than that.”
She shook head. “I did. I told you the why of your question. It is up to you to answer the who and the how.”
“But—”
She closed her eyes and leaned back in her chair as if she were settling in for a nap. Maybe she was, because only a few moments passed before I heard her softly snoring. Part of me wanted to shake her awake and make her answer my questions, but I knew there was no point in doing that. I suspected that Ruby only ever said as much as she wanted to and not a word more.
Shaking my head, I went back out of the apartment, closing the door behind me.
Chapter 28
An hour later, Emily and I stood behind my table anxiously watching Jeremiah, Beatrice, and Margot taste my fudge. Beatrice took the smallest of bites and held it in her mouth before chewing and swallowing it. Jeremiah bit his hunk of chocolate peanut butter fudge in half and chewed away. Margot stared at the piece, turning it in her hand before taking a small bite.
I wasn’t worried that the fudge wasn’t good. I knew it was. Even in the limited time allowed, it had set up beautifully in the church’s deep freezer.
I scanned the judges’ expressions for any sign that they liked the fudge, but they had their game faces on. They made notes on their clipboards and moved on to the next table.
“Is that gut or bad?” Emily whispered in my ear when they had left.
“I have no idea,” I whispered back.
“I would not think it was gut,” Haddie Smucker said smugly. She stood at the edge of her table closest to us. “When the judges tasted my fudge, they complimented it.”
I scowled at her. “I’m sure everyone’s fudge is good. They wouldn’t be in the ACC otherwise.”
She nodded as if I had given her the reaction she wanted. Maybe I had.
“Perhaps your fudge would have been even better if you hadn’t been running all over the square today meddling in Amish business.”
I folded my arms. “What do you know about Josephine’s death?”
She snorted. “Nothing. I know when it’s not my place to become involved, unlike you.”
“But you might know something about Susan’s stove being tampered with, am I right?”
She flushed ever so slightly, and I knew I was right to think she was the one who’d sabotaged the candy maker from Pennsylvania.
She lifted her chin. “No matter how the stove was broken, Susan Klink made the choice to use the church’s microwave.”
“But the broken stove made her panic.”
She shrugged as if that was simply a minor detail.
“How many other candy makers did you try to sabotage just to improve your own chances? You must have thought you were awfully clever when it turned out that your tampering coincidentally led to a way for you to get back in the competition.”
There were so many things I wanted to say to Haddie, and most of them were not repeatable, especially to an Amish woman, but Emily pulled on my sleeve before I could get any more of them out.
“Bailey,” Emily said breathlessly, “the judges are at the gazebo now. They must be ready to announce the winners.”
“Go back to New York, Bailey King,” Haddie said as she walked by my booth. “You don’t belong here and never will.”
Her words stung because they echoed my own thoughts. Emily tugged on my sleeve. I followed her to the foot of the gazebo, the same place where everyone had gathered the night bef
ore in search of Jethro. I was losing hope that the little pig would ever turn up. I debated looking for Juliet so I could tell her that Ruby had seen Jethro with Josephine the morning Josephine died, but I was afraid, given the circumstances, that would only make Juliet worry more. I promised myself that I would search for him again that night after the ACC had ended.
Jeremiah held the bullhorn to his mouth. “We’re so proud and grateful to have the Amish Confectionery Competition in Harvest this year. It’s a true honor. Before we announce the winners, I would be remiss if I didn’t mention yesterday’s tragedy.” He cleared his throat. “Josephine Weaver was one of the finest candy makers in Ohio, if not the whole country. Her talent will be greatly missed.” He nodded at Lindy. “We are pleased that Lindy Beiler has been able to carry on in Berlin Candies’ name. Thank you, Lindy.”
Lindy blushed. Her husband wrapped his arm around her shoulders.
A murmur ran through the crowd of candy makers and visitors who were in Harvest that day for the competition.
I glanced at Haddie, who glared at Lindy for all she was worth. I suspected that it was good the ACC was all but over or Lindy’s stove would be the next to be tampered with. But could Haddie want to win so badly that she would have killed Josephine to remove the competition? Up to this point, it would have been hard for me to believe that, but the glare she gave Lindy made me reconsider.
Jeremiah adjusted his grip on the bullhorn. “Let’s take a moment to bow our heads and remember candy maker Josephine Weaver.”
Beside me, Emily dutifully bowed her head, as did the rest of the crowd. I did so for half a second, but then I lifted my eyes. My gaze fell on Lindy. She leaned into her husband’s shoulder for support. A tear rolled down her cheek. Maybe she really did care about Josephine and miss her, or maybe she was just fearful about what would become of her now that Josephine was gone.
I searched the crowd for Haddie again. She scowled at me, so I looked away and made eye contact with Aiden, who stood across the semicircle from me. Heat rushed up my cheeks. When did he get there? I knew he wasn’t there a moment ago. I would have noticed him. He was doing the same thing I was, scanning the crowd for reactions. I dropped my head as if in prayer. In truth, I couldn’t withstand his appraising gaze.
Lethal Licorice Page 19