“The irony of it all,” Jeremiah said, “is that Josephine’s shop did win the competition. It was all for naught. All of it.”
“You put her body in the organ,” I said. “Why?”
His index finger twitched on the handle of the knife. “I had to do something so that people wouldn’t connect her death to me, and it seemed fitting.”
“How?” I asked.
“Everyone knew she was upset with Charlotte about the organ. Charlotte would have a reason to want her dead.”
Jethro, who had been trapped in the mausoleum all this time, wanted to get out. With a squeak, he charged Jeremiah, who wasn’t ready for someone to hit him at shin level. He stumbled onto the step outside the mausoleum, but with the knife in his hand, he wasn’t able to right himself. He fell back with a scream.
I scooped up the pig and ran out of the building, jumping over the groaning Jeremiah as I went.
“Bailey!” A flashlight bobbed over the gravestones. “Bailey.”
It was Aiden.
“Over here,” I called and waved, holding Jethro to my side in the other arm.
He caught his breath and pulled up short, taking in the scene. “What is going on here?”
“Jeremiah just tried to kill me, and he’s responsible for the death of Hiram Weaver fifteen years ago.”
“Hiram Weaver? I’m looking for the murderer of Josephine Weaver.”
I glanced back at the groaning deacon. “He’s responsible for that too. Trust me.” I handed him the note.
He took it from my hand. “I can’t believe all this happened, and I was just inside the church.”
I hugged Jethro to my chest and glanced down at Jeremiah, who was moaning and clutching his obviously broken leg. “Don’t worry. Jethro and I handled it.”
Aiden shook his head as he ripped his radio from his belt and called the incident in.
Epilogue
A week later, I sat in a pew in the middle of Juliet’s church. My grandmother was at my side with her hands folded on her lap. Juliet, with Jethro sleeping on her lap and Reverend Brook at her side, sat on the other side of my grandmother. The seat to my right was empty.
At the front of the church, Charlotte sat with her back to us as her fingers flew across the organ’s keys, and the music she created rose through the pipes and filled the space.
The deacon of her new district, my grandmother’s district, had told her that she didn’t have to choose between her love of music and her love of God. He thought she could have both. Charlotte planned to continue living at Swissmen Sweets. Even though she remained Amish, she had left her home district. Her family wouldn’t welcome her back, and neither would Deacon Clapp. I knew a time would come when Charlotte would have to make that final decision to join the Amish church, whichever church it might be, or leave forever. Thankfully, it was not on this day, a day to celebrate all her hard work and her talent.
The church was full of Amish and English people who were there just to hear Charlotte play. I had never known an organ to have so much life. It was no wonder she was so torn when Deacon Clapp had said that she had to give it up.
I watched Charlotte’s hands move across the keys so closely that I didn’t know there was someone standing at my side until he cleared his throat.
I jumped and looked up to find Aiden, still dressed in his Sheriff’s Department uniform, looking down at me. His dimple was on full display, which did nothing for my nerves.
He gestured to the small open seat beside me. I nodded that he could have it, scooting over to make room for him and causing everyone down the line in my pew to do the same. Both Juliet and my grandmother looked down the pew in our direction, and the two women shared a secret smile as Aiden took the seat beside me.
His hand dropped onto the pew’s seat next to my own. He squeezed my hand. I pulled my hand away and folded my hands in my lap, wishing that I’d had the nerve to hold on to him.
After a moment, I snuck a peek at Aiden, who was looking forward, engrossed in the music, just like everyone else there. He had a secret smile on his face that matched the one his mother and my grandmother had shared just a moment ago. That’s when I knew my heart was in all sorts of trouble.
Swissmen Sweets Black Licorice
Ingredients
• ½ stick of butter, plus extra for greasing the pan
• ½ cup granulated white sugar
• 2 tablespoons molasses
• A dash of salt
• ¼ cup maple syrup
• ¼ cup sweetened condensed milk
• ½ teaspoon black food coloring
• 6 tablespoons cornstarch (can substitute flour)
• ¾ tablespoon licorice extract (can substitute anise extract, which is easier to find)
Directions
1. Line a 9” x 9” pan with parchment paper. For easy removal, the paper should be 2 inches higher than the sides of the pan.
2. Spread butter onto the parchment paper.
3. Clip a candy thermometer onto the side of a heavy saucepan. Don’t let the thermometer touch the bottom of the pan.
4. Mix the butter, maple syrup, sugar, condensed milk, salt, and molasses in the saucepan. Bring to a gentle boil, stirring continually to avoid burning the mixture.
5. When the mixture reaches 240°F, remove it from the heat, and stir in the corn starch and black food coloring. When those ingredients are fully mixed, add the licorice extract.
6. Pour the mixture into the 9” x 9” pan, and refrigerate for 30 minutes.
7. Remove the pan from the fridge, remove the candy from the pan, and cut into 1” x 1” squares.
Don’t miss the next Amish Candy Shop mystery!
PREMEDITATED PEPPERMINT
Chapter 1
Peppermint is much more than a Christmastime treat. It has a thousand uses. It has been used to freshen breath, flavor beverages, calm nerves, and even grow hair. But as far as I could tell, it did not have the power to repel ex-boyfriends.
This conclusion was confirmed when Eric Sharp walked through the front door of Swissmen Sweets, the Amish candy shop that I ran with my Amish grandmother in the middle of Holmes County, Ohio. No, I wasn’t Amish, but my father’s family was. Up until a few months ago, I had spent most of my adult life in New York City, working as an assistant chocolatier at JP Chocolates for world-renowned chocolate maker Jean Pierre Ruge. After my grandfather’s death in September, I left city life behind to take over Swissmen Sweets. I never regretted that decision. My only regret about leaving New York had been created by the New York tabloids, which had revealed where I’d gone, and that meant Eric Sharp knew just where to find me.
At the moment Eric walked into my shop, I was up to my elbows in peppermint and white chocolate. I was spreading the molten white chocolate mixture on a cookie sheet to cool. After the peppermint bark solidified and cooled, I would break it into pieces, place the pieces in cellophane bags, and tie them closed with bright red ribbon.
Eric smiled when he caught me staring gape-mouthed at him. Even if the shop were full of customers, which it was not on a weekday midafternoon, Eric would still have been able to spot me quickly. I was the only person in the shop wearing jeans. My grandmother and her cousin Charlotte, who both stood behind the glass-domed counter bagging candies, wore plain Amish dresses, black aprons, and white prayer caps.
Eric strode toward me, but before he reached me, my grandmother smiled brightly at him. “May I help you?”
I wanted to blurt out, “No, you may not help him. He’s not staying.”
But, of course, I didn’t.
Eric grinned that smug grin that once upon a time I thought was so confident and attractive. Now I saw it for what it was: condescending. “I see what I need.” He made a point of looking at me when he said this. “Hello, Bailey. It’s nice to see you again.”
“I can’t say the same about you.” Somehow, despite the fact that my throat seemed to have closed up, I was able to spit out the words.
I ground my teeth. “What are you doing here, Eric?”
“I’m here to visit you.”
My frown deepened. I wasn’t buying it. “You flew to Ohio to visit me? A person you haven’t spoken to in over three months?”
He nodded, doing his best to appear sincere, but failing. “I know how much you love Christmas.”
It was true I loved Christmas. It was my favorite time of the year. I loved the parties, the carols, the food, and more than anything, I loved the sweets, but I knew Eric hadn’t flown all the way to Ohio because Christmas was a few days away and I was a big fan. The Eric I knew didn’t do anything for anyone unless he also got something out of it.
“I’ve taken a few days off from my bakeries, and I thought it would be a great idea to have a real country Christmas for once. It would be a nice change of pace from the hustle and bustle of New York.”
My brow furrowed. “You took time off of work?” When he made that claim, I knew he was lying. Eric was the biggest workaholic I knew. He was a bigger workaholic than I was, which was saying something. Before moving to Ohio, I easily worked one hundred hours a week at JP Chocolates. Eric didn’t take time off from his bakeries. Ever.
I was about to argue that point with him when the glass door to Swissmen Sweets opened again, and two disheveled twenty-something men walked into the shop. One man was carrying a large video camera, and the other carried a boom microphone. Both wore large headphones.
I dropped my spatula into the peppermint bark, most likely condemning the utensil to a chocolatey death, but I didn’t care. I had much bigger problems than a lost spatula. I waved my hands in the air. “No no no. Get out!” I came around the counter to the public side of the shop as if I was shot from a cannon.
Charlotte and my grandmother stared at me openmouthed, but I didn’t stop to explain my actions. There wasn’t time. I had to get Eric and his film crew out of my shop.
Eric shuffled back with his hands raised. “There is no reason to make a scene.”
I glared at him. “There is every reason to make a scene. I will not let you turn my family’s shop into a sound bite for your show!” Just before we’d broken up, Eric had been given the chance to film a reality baking show. As the bad boy of the NYC pastry world, he was just what a popular cooking network was looking for to boost its ratings and give it an edgier image.
Maami lifted the piece of wood that separated the front of the shop from the back counter and stepped through the opening. “Bailey, what is going on? Do you know these men?”
I winced. One advantage of my grandmother being Amish was she’d been shielded from most of the headlines about my relationship back in New York. She knew that I had been dating someone, and that I had broken up with him just before moving to Ohio. She didn’t know who he was or what he did, and she most certainly didn’t know he was standing in the middle of her shop with a film crew.
Before I could answer, Eric stepped forward. “You must be Bailey’s grandmother. I’ve heard so much about you.” He held out his hand to her.
Maami stared at his hand, and after long pause, she took it for the briefest of handshakes. I knew she didn’t want to be rude, but typically Amish women didn’t shake hands with people they didn’t know, especially strange men, and to Maami, Eric must have looked very strange. He had perfectly styled blond hair and was wearing a Rolex watch that had cost more than my car.
“I’m Eric Sharp,” he went on to say. “I’m sure you have heard of me from Bailey.”
Maami looked to me. “Nee, Bailey has never mentioned you.”
This only made Eric chuckle again. “Well, I will just tell you that Bailey and I were very good friends back in New York, and I have missed her.”
It took all my strength not to roll my eyes.
“Since she hasn’t told you much about me, I suppose you don’t know that I am a pastry chef in New York—the best pastry chef, actually.”
I snorted.
Eric went on as if I hadn’t made a noise. “I’m doing so well, in fact, that I have my own television show, and that’s where you all come in. We are filming a holiday special set in Amish Country. We haven’t settled on a title yet, but I know we will soon. As you can imagine, the network is in love with the idea!” He smiled as if that was reason enough to let him keep filming. It wasn’t.
“I’m sure they are,” I said. “But I’m not. It’s time for you to leave.” All the time I was talking, I realized that the crew was getting my reaction on film, probably high-definition video and audio too. Eric only allowed the very best technical people to take part in his projects. I turned to them. “Turn those things off. You don’t have permission to film in here.”
The two young guys looked at Eric, and he nodded. They lowered their equipment and shuffled to the corner of the room beside the large display of jarred candies.
Eric turned to me. “I don’t know why you are making such a fuss, Bailey. Don’t you realize what a show like this could do for your shop? Don’t you want free advertising for Swissmen Sweets?”
I felt a twinge. He had a point. The exposure could be unbelievable for the shop.
He must have noticed my hesitation because the smug grin was back on his face.
Before I could give him an answer, the shop door opened for the third time that afternoon, and the last person on the planet I would have wanted to see at that moment stepped into the candy shop.
Tall and loose-jointed, Sheriff’s Deputy Aiden Brody stood just inside the doorway to Swissmen Sweets. His eyes were alert, as if he could feel the tension in the room. As a seasoned law enforcement officer, Aiden was tuned into the mood of his surroundings, and the current mood in Swissmen Sweets was anything but welcoming.
He took in the sound and camera guys in the corner of the room. The sound guy had his boom leaning over his shoulder like a baseball bat ready to be taken out onto the field.
“Anyone want to tell me what’s going on in here?” Aiden asked.
And that’s when I knew my first Christmas in Amish Country would be anything but peaceful.
Lethal Licorice Page 25