by Unknown
“My Femke lives Detective? But how is this possible?”
“I don’t know why, but she’s here in the hospital visiting with her mother right now.”
Fons stays motionless with his hand over his mouth to hold back the guttural yell welling in his throat. After an uncomfortably long silence, Detective Price watches Fons’ face go from red and teary to smiling and giddy with laughter.
“Thank you, thank you so much for this wonderful news, I am the happiest man in the world.”
“Fons I need your help talking to Femke.”
“Yes, yes, what shall we do?”
“We’ll take her to a private room in the hospital where we can talk freely but I think it will be best if you ask her the questions at first.”
“But what shall I say Detective Price? I am not an investigator and I’ve never spoken to the girl before.”
“Ask her the sort of questions you would ask if the two of you were alone. I know that you have a lot of questions for her, as a friend—from afar but ask those questions. I’ll interject questions of my own now and again. Let’s try to gently pull out the information that I need to solve the murder of her family members, okay?”
“Okay sir, I understand what you are asking. I can do this,” Fons says as he dries his face with the handkerchief from his pocket, and steels himself once, but this time, it is to talk to his Femke.
Femke and the Garcias are sitting in a small conference room inside the hospital. Fons and the Detective are lead to where the trio is waiting.
“Ms. Johannsen, I am DetectiveDavid Price. I am investigating the fire at your home last night. I am truly sorry for your loss. I think you know this gentleman,” Price says as he steps out of the way to allow Femke to lay eyes on Fons for the first time since she left for rumspringa.
Femke, so happy to see someone from her community, runs to Fons, wraps her arms tightly around his waist, and sobs into his strong, hard chest without saying a word.
“There, there maedchen (young lady) I have got you, you are safe now. I have got you and I am never letting go,” Fons says—speaking from his heart. The pair just stands there in an embrace while Femke cries out all of the first waves of pain and disbelief of yesterday’s events.
“Ma’am, Sir, let’s give them a moment to talk. Would you mind following me outside the room?” Detective Price says to the Garcias. He knows this is also a good opportunity to question them away from Femke to see if their stories match up.
“Fons, I’ll be just outside the door. Call me when things are, um, okay in here.” Detective Price says as he leads the Garcias to the hallway and closes the door behind him.
“Ma’am, Sir, what are your names and how do you know Ms. Johannsen?”
“I am Carmello Garcia and this is my wife Martha. We are the owners of the South Prince Street Panadaria—bakery. Ms. Johannsen, Femke, has been working with us for two months. She also lives in our home above the store, with us and our two daughters. One is a little older and the other a little younger than Femke. My heart is broken for the girl Detective; I love her like a daughter.”
“I understand sir; she will need all of the love that she can get during this time. I heard from people in the Amish community that she was supposed to go home yesterday. Can you think of any reason why she didn’t come home as scheduled?”
“Yes, that was my fault, Detective. My arthritis is acting up,” Mrs. Garcia says as she rubs her aching hands.
“We have La Dia de Los Reyes—the Day of the Kings; coming up in three days on January 6th, and with me unable to do much, I needed Femke’s help. We make the best Rosca Del Reyes—Kings Cake, in town and we are very busy at the bakery,” Mrs. Garcia says with great pride. “I asked Femke to stay until January 8th to get us through the rush and the clean up after January 6th.”
“Did Femke confide in you or your daughters, any problems her family might be having with anyone in the Amish community?”
“No Detective, she talked about her parents and brothers and sister, and about not having any friends. Pobresita (poor little girl), but she didn’t talk about any problems,” says Mr. Garcia, with his wife nodding in agreement throughout his statement. Just as Mr. Garcia finished talking, Fons opens the door to the conference room.
“Detective Price, please come in, Femke is ready to talk.”
Femke is sitting at the small, round table, with hands folded; one on top the other like a school girl about to be scolded by the principal.
“Femke, I want to ask you some questions to help the Detective to find who did this to your family. I believe him to be a good man that you can trust, so please speak freely in front of him.
Fons sees a ray of doubt on Femke’s face and responds to it by saying, “I promise on my life, I will protect you and keep your secrets from the Amish community. I swear it!”
“Thank you Fons, but there’s no need to swear, I believe you. And, if you trust Detective Price, I shall trust him too. I will talk about anything if it will help you to find who tried to destroy my family.”
“Thank you, Ms. Johannsen,” Detective Price replies.
“Femke, why didn’t you come home yesterday as planned?” Fons asks.
“I sent a letter to my father explaining that I would be home on January 6th.
“And why did you change your plans to come home? What is significant about this date?”
“Mrs. Garcia needed my help with a special order of cakes for a Mexican holiday that celebrates the Three Kings that came to bring gifts to baby Jesus. My father agreed, so I stayed.”
“Why did you come to the hospital today if you didn’t plan to come home until January 6th?”
“We saw what happened at my home on the news and the Garcias brought me to my mother at the hospital.”
“Did you possibly meet someone in the English world that wanted to hurt you or your family?” asked Detective Price.
“No, I spend all of my time at the bakery and I even live with the Garcia family. Their daughters are like my sisters. They are a very strict Catholic family so there was no wild rumspringa for me, not that I wanted a wild time, but you know, it is the time to sow a few wild oats.”
“Femke, can you think of anyone that would want to hurt your family?” Fons asked, expecting that she would have no idea who the guilty party could be. He was shocked to hear Femke’s response.
“Yes! It was the Amish. I am sure of it.”
Detective Price tries hard not to show his surprise at Femke’s response. Fons does not display a poker face, his shock could be heard outside of the door. “What do you mean Femke?” asks Fons.
“Heir Abrahams was in the barn arguing with my father two weeks before I left for rumspringa. I was about to enter to milk the cows. I stopped when I heard the raised voices of men talking. I looked through the window and saw them. I could hear every word.”
“What reason could they have to fight Femke? I don’t understand, Heir Abrahams is an Elder in our community.”
“Heir Abrahams said that selling my parent’s farm was the key to closing the deal with the English. That if my father refused to sell, the county would exercise its right of eminent domain and buy our farm and some other Amish farms, for a new highway exit ramp.
“Why did this cause a fit between the men? Did they disagree on something?”
Yes, if the County took the farms they would only be offered fair market value. If we Amish sell our land now we would get a rate above market.
“Why was your father against selling a small portion of his land if the County could take it anyway?”
“The other Amish families are selling land that is not close to their homes and they have no structures on them. But on our land, we have our home and the 100-year-old house of our ancestors. My father said he would not sell at any price and they would have to take his land over his dead body—and now he, my brothers, and my sister are dead. It was the Amish!”
“Femke, do you know who else in the Amish c
ommunity is involved in this land deal?” Detective Price asks.
“No, I only heard this one conversation.”
“Femke, I think your life, your brothers, and your mother’s lives are in danger and I need to move you into protective custody. Fons, if you’re up to it I may need your help and it is a little risky for you.”
“I will do anything to help Femke and her family Detective Price. Femke, there is something you should know, says Fons.
“I have loved you from afar for many years now. Only I was too much a coward to tell you.”
Surprised and blushing, Femke asks, “But why did you never tell me, or even talk to me Fons?”
“You are so special and so beautiful, kind, sweet, and good that I could barely bring myself to look at you. I feel unworthy to even gaze upon you.”
For the first time in her life Femke felt optimistic about her future. She was pleased that at least one in her community did not dislike her.
Fons continued saying, “When I thought you were dead My heart broke and now that you are among the living again I want you to know that I shall ask your mother for your hand in marriage if you shall have me.”
The blood drained from Femke’s face at the sound of the words that she has been longing to hear her entire life.
Seeing her reaction Fons quickly tries to put her at ease. “Please, do not respond now. This is a difficult time for you I know, but I want you to know that I go into this work with the Detective Price not for my friend Femke, but for Femke—the love of my life.”
“Oh Fons, I shall like to marry you someday, please be careful. Detective, please protect Fons from harm. I shall pray for him and my mother every minute I can.”
Detective Price feels humbled and embarrassed to witness such an innocent profession of love between the two young people.
Yet, having witnessed it he makes a personal note to bring his wife of 20-years, roses and to profess his love to her when he goes home.
Fons and Femke are sharing a brief embrace before departing company. Upon reaching the car, Detective Price calls his captain to update her on the situation and to arrange to move the family to protective custody.
“Detective Price do you really suspect Heir Abrahams?” Fons asks.
“Yes, I do and we’re going to get the proof we need to put him away for good!”
*****
“What is going on? What are these dogs doing on my property? Why are you Englishmen trampling my yard? Answer me damnyou!” Heir Abrahams bellows, waving his walking cane wildly at the Police K-9 team, Forensic Technicians, and Detectives.
“I have a warrant to search your home and barn Mr. Abrahams,” Detective Price responds, waving the document in front of the senior man’s face.
“What reason do you have to search my property?”
“You were seen and heard arguing with one of the deceased and our scent detection dogs followed the smell of the accelerant used at the scene of the Johannsen fire directly to your barn and then to your front door.”
“You are not bringing those beasts into my home!” Abrahams says as he shakes his cane in the direction of the police dogs and handlers.
“Oh yes we are and we can either go around you or through you, but we are going inside that house, and that barn, so what’s it going to be old man?”
Heir Abrahams steps aside in response to Price’s threat.
“There is a ton of forensic evidence inside the house and the barn, we got him, Detective Price. It’s on clothes, shoes, the floors, the barn hay, his wagon, everything!” The techniciansays with a huge grin of satisfaction on his face.
Before Price could respond, one of the K-9 handlers says, “We have another scent outside.”
“Find out where the scent leads you and get a warrant. Officer, place Mr. Abrahams under arrest,” Price tells a nearby patrol officer who has been helping with the search.
“I am innocent, I have done nothing wrong,” shouts Abrahams.
“Arrest the son too, an80-year-old man couldn't have handled as many heavy barrels of accelerant as it would have taken to make a fire of that size and in such a large area. He had to have had help. Arrest the son too,” shouts Detective Price again.
“No, not my son, he is innocent, not my son. I shall tell you everything. It was us, a cabal of old men. We were doing what we thought was right to protect our community.”
Hearing the start of a confession, the Police Officer says, “Mr. Abrahams, you have the right to remain silent, anything you say may be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to consult an attorney before speaking to the police and to have an attorney present during questioning now or in the future. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you before any questioning if you wish. Do you understand these rights?”
“Yes, yes, I understand, I want to speak, I want to speak.”
“I’ll take him. Let’s you and me have a little talk down at the station Mr. Abrahams. We won’t arrest your son for now, as long as you continue to cooperate.” Price says as he leads Mr. Abrahams out of the house and into the car. They spend a silent ride to the police station where Mr. Abrahams is seated at an interrogation room table.
“Talk Mr. Abrahams, tell me why I shouldn’t arrest your son,” Detective Price demands.
“It was us old men. We purposefully did not involve any young men, to keep them out of trouble.
“Why did you do it Mr. Abrahams—you’re a pillar of the community?” What could make an Elder want to hurt someone?”
“You see, we had been praying to God for a solution to our community problem. It is you English that created this situation, with your taxes and licenses, and fees. Some in our community struggle every year to pay you English your due.”
“And how is Mr. Johannsen involved in this problem?
“When the County asked to buy land from homes in the community to build a new exit ramp for your highway we Elders thought this is manna from heaven—the answer to our prayers.”
“Where did the problems arise?”
“If all of the farms identified sold their land, we could get everyone in the community that was behind on taxes out of debt and have money to spare for the future. Only, that selfish, prideful Johannsen just thought of his own family and not of the entire community. He refused to sell!”
“Why was he against the sale? Is that what you two argued about?”
“Yes, it seems that harlot of a daughter of his found some inferno information. She told her father the county could take their home and move it or buy it, that is true, but that they could also apply to designate his family home as a 100-year-old historical property.”
“That sounds like a good thing for your community. Why were you opposed to his plan?”
“That meddling Femke was the one to add fuel to the fire.”
“How so?”
“Johannsen already didn’t want to sell his ancestral home when Femke told him they could even turn it into a living museum and the County would spare their land from the sale. This meant less money for the community. To make matters worse, they planned to invite the English to come and visit the museum for a fee.”
“So why not try to reason with Johannsen?”
“Because he was prideful! And, that greedy Johannsen whore was stopping our deal and making more money for her father and her future brewed. We could not let this stand! No woman was going to stop our plan to protect our community. The Johannsen’s had to go, even the little ones, lest they grow up to be just as cunning as that Femke Johannsen.”
“You seem very angry with a young girl when her father was making all of the decisions. Why is that?”
“I for one am glad that little temptress is dead. I saw her looking at me, smiling at me to tempt me to taste her fruit. Oh, she feigned innocence but I saw through that veneer of piety.”
“You say Femke was taunting you? How so?”
“She draws men in like a moth to a flame. Then leaves it up t
o God to put the fear in men not to touch. I believe she would have every man and boy in the community commit sin if they were not God fearing men.
“So you think Femke was as guilty of harming the community as her father?”
“Yes, but she does not know the story of her grandmother. She is also a temptress like Femke. I asked her father for her hand in marriage but her father said no, she was promised to Bul Jost. I walked away, my hat in hand, licking my wounds. Then out of nowhere she appears, the grandmother, and walks towards the barn, pretending to groom the horses, but I knew what she wanted.
“What was that Mr. Abrahams?” Detective Price asked, trying to hide the contempt in his voice.
“She wanted to see me fall. She heard me speaking to her father and as she walked to the barn she saw me, she smiled at me. Not the usual smile with the greeting of the day, but a different smile—a lusty smile.”
“Did you harm her?”
“I followed her there, into the barn and I punched that wicked smile right off her face!
“And what did her father do?”
“Well to hide the shame of having a daughter that would provoke a good man to violence, the father sent her off to rumspringa right away. Being a kindly man, Jost married the wicked girl anyway. I wouldn’t have her after she riled a good man like me to a hit a woman. She made me hit her, with her wicked ways.”
Detective Price was speechless at hearing that Abrahams punched a woman in the face—in the mouth no less because her father said she was already promised to another man.
“Old man, I have never wanted to punch somebody in all my life the way that I want to hit you right now. You saw a pretty girl who made you have normal feelings and because you struggled with those feelings you hit her. Just for being kind and friendly towards you.”
“That’s right, it was just in the eyes of the Lord to punish a wicked woman!”
“Well, you didn’t kill her granddaughter, Femke is alive and well.” Price smiles a Cheshire Cat grin at how angry Abrahams looks sitting there across the table from him. Abrahams fights the urge to ask how the girl survived—but knowing she must be badly burned is satisfaction enough for him. He does not know Femke was not at home.