Plainly Murder

by Isabella Alan

  He folded his arms. “If you’ve found what you needed, maybe it’s time for you to leave.”

  I opened my mouth but clamped it shut when I saw Lily’s pleading look. “Thanks for your help, Lily. These boots will keep my feet toasty warm.”

  “You’re welcome.” She seemed to want to say something else, but her husband’s scowl put an end to that.

  Chapter Nine

  The boots may have been ugly, but they gave me sure feet and confidence, which was the boost I needed to make our next stop at the Dudek Bike Company. The battery of my phone was almost dead. My aunt’s house was without electricity, so there was nowhere to plug it in overnight. I had brought a car charger with me and pulled it from my oversized purse. As I plugged it in the car, I asked Aunt Eleanor, “Do you miss being English, being able to pick up the phone and call someone whenever you wanted to?”

  She smiled. “You will remember that I left English life long before cell phones were invented.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  She smiled. “I do. After all this time, I don’t miss it.” She arched an eyebrow at me. “Do you like being constantly available every waking moment?”

  I couldn’t imagine living without my cell phone or electricity.

  My cell rang. My mother’s smiling face popped up on the screen. Okay, maybe being constantly available wasn’t always a good thing. My fingers hovered over the screen. Should I answer?

  Aunt Eleanor grinned. “Aren’t you going to answer that?”

  I sighed. “Okay, but if this turns into a three hour conversation, I’m blaming you.”

  Oliver barked in the backseat, as if celebrating that he didn’t get the blame for once.

  I tapped the phone. “Hello, Mom.”

  “Hello, Mom? That’s how you are going to greet me? I receive one cryptic text message telling me that you are there and nothing else? You could be lying dead in the middle of some cow paddy for all I know.”

  Leave it to my mother to conjure such a lovely image. A smile crossed Aunt Eleanor’s face. She could hear every word my mother said.

  I blew out a breath. “Mom, I told you when I left I wouldn’t be calling or texting all that much. I have to conserve the battery on my phone. Aunt Eleanor doesn’t have electricity, remember?”

  “Don’t remind me. My sister is living out in the country all by herself, sicker than a dog, and with no phone to call for help. How is she?”

  Aunt Eleanor’s smile dropped into a scowl.

  “She’s right here with me? Would you like to talk to her?”

  Aunt Eleanor began emphatically shaking her head “no.”

  “I would, actually.”

  I told her to hold on and handed the phone to my aunt, who gave me a beady look in return. “Hello, Daphne . . . Nee. I’m fine . . . And Angie is here . . . Danki . . .” After a short conversation, she handed the phone back to me. “She wants to talk you about the wedding.”

  “What else?” I muttered. Elopement was looking better and better.

  I gritted my teeth. “Well, Mom, I’m trying to save my battery, so I’m going to let—”

  “Don’t you dare hang up the phone before I tell you why I called. I have some news about the wedding.”

  Just what I’d feared. I shot my aunt an irritated glance. In the rearview mirror, I saw Oliver cover his eyes with his paw. I took a deep breath. “What’s that?”

  “Ice sculptures. I booked the premier ice sculptor in the Dallas–Fort Worth Metroplex. He didn’t come cheap, either. Typically, he schedules three years in advance. I had to pay a hefty penny for him to take on our wedding only one year out.”

  Our wedding? That pretty much summed it up. And why was there a premier ice sculptor in Texas? The vein next to my right eye began to pulsate. “Mom, I don’t want ice sculptures at my wedding. I told you that three times.”

  “Angela, I’ve seen this man’s work. It’s exquisite. I sent him the engagement photo of you and Ryan, the one that was in the paper. He’s going to recreate it out of ice. It will be life-size.”

  This is not happening. “Mom, I don’t want ice sculptures at my wedding, especially not a life-size ice sculpture of Ryan and me.” My voice raised an octave. “Call the ice sculptor and cancel. If he’s so much in demand, he can find something else to do that weekend.”

  “Angela.” Her voice turned as icy as the famous sculptor’s medium. “I’ve already given him a deposit, a nonrefundable deposit, so you will have a life-size ice sculpture of you and Ryan, and you will love it.”

  Heaven help me.

  “Let’s talk about this when I get home, okay?” There was nothing I could do about the ice sculpture hundreds of miles away.

  “Okay, honey, I knew you’d come around. Now, give my sister a hug for me and make sure she gets some rest.”

  “I will,” I promised and hung up.

  Maybe I could compromise with my mother somehow. I turned to Oliver, who had rolled onto his back. Maybe super ice-sculpture man could make a life-size replica of Oliver instead of the one of Ryan and me. Now that would be cute.

  “Did I hear my sister correctly? There will be a life-size ice sculpture of you and Ryan at the wedding?” My aunt hid a smile behind her hand.

  “Not if I can help it.”

  “Being Amish looks pretty gut to you right now, doesn’t it?” she asked.

  It did. “I think it’s time we head to the bike shop.”

  • • •

  Dudek Bike Company sat on a hillside on Route Thirty-nine, ten miles south of Millersburg. Several empty snow-covered bike racks circled the building. The bikes were inside for the season. If business was slow in the winter for the Amish on Sugartree Street, it was abysmal for a bike shop. My car was the only vehicle in the parking lot and that was counting the Amish buggies. Being the only car there, I parked right next to the door, so my aunt would only have to take a few short steps.

  When I pulled on the door handle, it opened easily, and Aunt Eleanor, Oliver, and I shuffled inside.

  “Hello there,” a deep voice called from somewhere inside the store. “Be up front in a minute.”

  “Take your time,” I called back as I surveyed the front of the store. Rims, seats, and handlebars hung from pegs on the wall. A ten-speed sat on a tarp in pieces, being taken apart or put back together, I couldn’t be sure. Oliver sniffed a bike chain and got black grease on his nose. I fished a tissue out of my purse and tried to clean it off with the same care a mother would wipe her three-year-old child’s face.

  “Angie, the salesmen are here,” my aunt whispered.

  I stood and found two men, wearing matching hunter green polo shirts with “Dudek Bike Company” embroidered on the breast pockets, standing in front of me. It was clear they were brothers, but not just because of their matching outfits. They had the same build, dark hair, and thin mustaches. I couldn’t decide if they were twins or just close in age.

  “Welcome to our store,” the one on the right said.

  “Yes, welcome, welcome,” the other added. “Who do we have here?” He stooped to peer at Oliver, who cowardly hid behind me.

  “That’s my dog, Oliver,” I said.

  “Oh, he’s a handsome devil,” the man gushed.

  His brother elbowed him. “You shouldn’t say something like that in front of an Amish lady.” He bowed his head in front of my aunt. “I’m truly sorry. Glenn has no manners whatsoever.”

  Glenn folded his arms. “It’s just an expression, Greg, and I have more manners in my left pinkie than you do in your entire body.”

  “Oh, please. You don’t even know what a fish fork is—”

  “Excuse me, guys?” I said. If I let them keep going, who knew how long we would be there, and I, for one, didn’t want the scent of bike tires permeati
ng my clothes for the rest of my time in Holmes County.

  Glenn wiped the bike grease from his hands onto a dirty rag. “You will excuse us, Miss. We get caught up from time to time.”

  “That we do,” Greg agreed. “Since you have such a nice looking dog, we are prepared to give you a deal.”

  “That’s right,” Glenn said. “Half off any bike.”

  Behind them, there was a large banner that said, “Half Off Sale.”

  I pointed to it. “I’m special?” I arched an eyebrow.

  Greg laughed. “Can’t pull a fast one on you.”

  “Guess not,” Glenn agreed and held out his hand to me. “I’m Glenn Dudek, and this here is my brother, Greg.”

  I shook his hand and then Greg’s. “Nice to meet you both. I’m Angie and this is my aunt, Eleanor.”

  Aunt Eleanor greeted them and shook both of their hands.

  Greg cocked his head. “Your aunt? Don’t look like it.”

  “Yeah, I don’t see the resemblance at all. Are you one of those wild runaway Amish?”

  “No,” was my simple answer. I wasn’t going to get into my complicated family history with these two.

  They shrugged in unison.

  “You’re here shopping for a bike?” Greg asked. “Because you came to the right place.”

  “Not exactly.” I said deciding to get straight to the point. “We’d like to talk to you both about Eric Schmidt.”

  The brothers shared a look.

  Greg picked a pedal off of the floor. “Now, that’s a name I haven’t heard in a very long time.”

  “I haven’t thought about that Amish boy in years,” Glenn added. “Sad story.” He nodded to my aunt. “You a relative of his or something?”

  “Nee—I mean—no, I am not.”

  Greg twirled the pedal in his hand. “What’s your interest in Eric then, if neither of you are relatives?”

  Aunt Eleanor held her hands at her waist. “Evelyn, Eric’s mother, was a gut friend of mine. She recently passed away.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. Can’t say we ever met his mother though,” Glenn said. “So I still don’t know what you’re asking us for.”

  My aunt took a step forward. “Evelyn believed her son was murdered—”

  “Aenti,” I yelped. I hadn’t expected her to just blurt it out like that.

  Greg dropped the pedal, and it bounced on the floor. “Didn’t he die in an accident? I think I remember that.”

  I nodded, having no choice but to go with my aunt’s strategy. “He fell off a barn roof, but his mother thought that he was pushed.”

  Glenn retrieved the pedal for his brother and handed it back to Greg. “What did the police say?”

  “They didn’t call the police because—”

  “You don’t have to explain it to us,” Greg said. “We’ve lived around the Amish our entire lives.” His face reddened as he glanced at my aunt. “No offense.”

  Aunt Eleanor only smiled. “I know my way of life is different than yours. I do regret that we didn’t call the police at the time. It may have avoided much heartache for Evelyn.”

  Glenn ran a finger along his mustache, as if to assure himself that it was still there. “What we don’t know is what this has to do with us? We’re just a couple of bike guys.”

  “You were going into business with Eric before he died and another Amish man, Cooper Mueller.”

  “H-how’d you know that?” Glenn asked.

  “Was it a secret?” Aunt Eleanor asked.

  Glenn frowned. “No.”

  Greg snorted. “How is our esteemed judge, Cooper Mueller? What did he think about all this?”

  Oliver inched toward the scooter section, and I pulled on his leash. He waddled back as I said, “I already spoke with him.”

  Glenn’s eyes were wide. “Really? How’d that go?”

  “About as good as this.”

  Glenn laughed. “This girl has a great dog and a sense of humor.”

  Greg smirked. “She’s all right.” He turned to me. “I wish we could help you, but we don’t know anything about how Eric died. Sure, we were going to go into business with the boys, but after Eric kicked the bucket—” He withered under my aunt’s glare. “Oh, sorry. After Eric passed, the deal fell through.”

  Glenn sighed. “We wanted to open that shop. The Amish are some of our best customers. Bicycles are one the easiest ways for them to get from place to place.” He gestured to the window. “Well, not in this weather, but most of the time. I think our Amish customers would have increased by tenfold if we had a shop just dedicated to their needs in Rolling Brook.”

  “Why didn’t you go forward with the plan anyway?” I asked. “With Cooper or someone else?”

  “We talked about it,” Greg said. “But we already had this shop and starting a new business in Rolling Brook would take us away from our families. We both had young kids at the time. We would need someone to manage the other shop. That’s why the boys plan was so appealing.”

  “There had to be another person in the Amish community interested in going into business with you,” my aunt said. I noted that her face was slightly gray. She’d been standing too long. I bit the inside of my lip.

  He thought for a minute. “We wanted to respect Eric’s memory, too. He really knew his bikes. If you ask me, he was more invested in the business than Cooper ever was. It would have been callous to make the offer to someone else right away, and after that, I think life just got away from us.”

  “What about Ira Eby? What do you know about him?” I asked.

  Glenn wrinkled his nose, which made him look like an overgrown toddler. “Ira Eby. I wouldn’t go into business with him if he was the last man on the planet.”

  “Neither would I,” Greg said.

  My brow shot up. “Why not?”

  Glenn folded his arms. “The man is as lazy as they come. Let me tell you, it’s hard to find a lazy Amish man.”

  Greg nodded. “He worked for us one summer. Let’s just say he had sticky fingers. We finally had to fire him.”

  Oliver sniffed the tires of the closest bike. I kept an eye on him. The last thing I needed was a bicycle collapse that would cause a domino effect throughout the store.

  “Cooper and Eric were good friends with Ira.”

  Glenn touched his chin. “I think I remember that, but I wasn’t going to hold how Ira behaved against his friends. I’ve got some unsavory pals myself. Great to hang out with, but I don’t depend on them for anything.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Ira runs the Eby Amish Mercantile in Rolling Brook. That business does very well.”

  “Good for him, but that doesn’t change my opinion,” Greg said.

  “Mine either,” Glenn agreed.

  “Now that I think of it,” Glenn said, “the timing of Eric’s death was unfortunate. He and Cooper were to sign the business contract right after the barn raising.”

  Greg sighed. “That’s right. I guess in the long run, it was a good thing they never signed it. It would have been much more difficult to break the agreement if Cooper insisted on moving forward with it.”

  “Did Cooper insist in moving forward?” I asked.

  “He wanted to at first, but then he seemed to lose interest.” Greg laughed. “He made out all right. Look at him now. Big time judge and all.”

  My aunt braced herself on a low shelf. “What do you remember about the boys? Did they get along well?”

  Glenn whistled. “Phew! You do realize that you are going way back, don’t you? I can barely remember what I was thinking fifteen minutes ago, let alone fifteen years.”

  “And my memory is worse than his,” Greg said.

  “That’s the truth,” his brother agreed.

  “The
boys never fought over anything?” I asked.

  “Now that you mention it, I do remember catching them in an argument one time,” Glenn said.

  “What about?”

  He rolled his eyes. “How should I know? They were speaking their own language.”

  “Oh.” My face fell in disappointment. “Do you remember when this was?”

  “Maybe a week or so before Eric died,” Glenn smoothed his mustache again. “The boys were visiting our shop to discuss final details about the new store. During the meeting, Eric said something to Cooper in Pennsylvania Dutch. Whatever it was that set Cooper off, and he snapped at Eric. I finally had to break in and remind them where they were and that not everyone could understand them.”

  Glenn shook his head. “I wasn’t judging them for fighting. Starting a business is hard. You should have seen some of the knock-down, drag-out fights that Greg and I have had over the years over our store. Not pretty. I just wanted to pull their attention back to the meeting.”

  “Ira’s name never came up when you spoke with Cooper and Eric about the shop?”

  “It may have. This was a long time ago,” Greg said.

  I glanced over at Aunt Eleanor. She swayed slightly were she stood. We’d stayed too long. “Thanks for your time.” I pulled on Oliver’s leash. “You’ve given me a lot to think about.”

  “Hey, wait,” Greg said. “I do remember one thing they said. I heard the name Violet during the argument, so maybe they weren’t fighting over the business, but over a girl. It’s always one or the other with young guys like that.”

  I thanked them.

  Glenn grinned. “Any time, and if you decide that you are interested in buying a bike, just say the word. We’ll give you a special discount.”

  Chapter Ten

  Aunt Eleanor was breathing heavily when we climbed inside of the Expedition. “I think we should go back home,” I said.

  She folded her hands in her lap. “I’m fine, Angie. You don’t need to worry about me so much. I’d like to see the shop before going home. I haven’t been there in so long. It would be a shame to be this close and not go into town.”