Marshmallow Malice

by Amanda Flower

  “Yikes,” Cass said. “Someone is going to get a tongue-lashing when they show up.”

  I nodded and frowned. Swissmen Sweets had been doing a brisk business ever since we’d unloaded the wagons. Both the chocolate-covered strawberries and the marshmallow sticks were a huge hit. They did so well, I knew I would have to add them to the summer menu. Strawberries and marshmallows were the perfect summer treats. The chocolate-covered frozen bananas that Charlotte suggested did well, too.

  Margot stomped over to me. “Have you seen the Chupps?”

  I blinked at her. “The Chupps?”

  “Yes.” She tapped her clipboard. “The Chupps. I’m asking you about the Chupps. They were supposed to be in that empty booth right over there, selling their berries, and they aren’t here. It’s after five. I told them to be here at four sharp. This is not acceptable. I knew that I shouldn’t have added a new vendor for such an important event, but RJ Chupp was insistent that they could deliver.” The eraser of her mechanical pencil hit the clipboard at an increasingly rapid rate. “This will be the last time I go against my gut when it comes to village events. If they don’t show, do you know who will look bad?” she asked.

  Before I could answer, she went on, “I will look bad. I make promises to the village council and to the public about who will be here, and if someone doesn’t show, that reflects badly on me and gives the impression that I have poor judgment.” She pointed the end of her pencil at her chest, as if to drive the point home.

  I held up my hand. “Margot! Take a breath. You are going to make yourself crazy.”

  “And everyone around you, too,” Cass whispered as she handed another customer two marshmallow sticks decorated with red, white, and blue stars.

  Margot froze with her eraser over the clipboard. I took the opportunity to speak. There was a good chance it wouldn’t last long. “I didn’t know that the Chupps had a booth on the square, and, no, I haven’t seen them. However, I know that their berry farm is very successful. They will be here if they said they would. Maybe they are caught in traffic. The streets into the village are backed up because so many people are trying to reach the square.”

  She sniffed. “They should have left earlier, then. I can’t have unreliable merchants at my square events! They are too important.”

  “No one is going to die if they don’t have more berries to eat,” Cass said as she filled a plastic container with chocolate-dipped strawberries for another customer.

  Margot glared at her. “How would you know? You’re from New York.”

  Cass rolled her eyes and looked as if she was about to make another sarcastic comment when a man in the crowd caught my eye.

  “No need to panic anymore,” I said. “I think they’re here.” I nodded across the square. RJ Chupp pushed a cart of berries through the crowd, followed by three children, including Essie. Along with the children came the petite woman who I assumed was RJ’s wife. She walked a few steps behind RJ and did her best to keep the three small children together. It appeared to be a challenge as they bounced about and pointed out all the patriotic twinkle lights in the trees. The woman held the hand of the youngest girl. She was the little one I had seen in the window. Each child carried something for the booth. The youngest one held a sign that read, “Fresh Berries.”

  Margot put her hands on her hips and pointed at the empty booth nearby. RJ Chupp locked eyes with me for just a moment. His face fell into a scowl before he continued on to his empty booth.

  Margot marched over to help them get settled or to lecture them about being so late. I wasn’t certain which.

  Charlotte handed another customer several patriotic marshmallow sticks. “Thank you so much.” After the man left, she turned to me. “What are the Chupps doing here?”

  I shook my head. “Margot said that they have a booth to sell their berries.”

  Charlotte nodded as if that made perfect sense, but I found the Chupps’ presence suspect as well. I couldn’t put my finger on the reason why.

  There wasn’t much time to talk after that. The square filled up with villagers and visitors alike, and it seemed that everyone wanted candy from our booth. All four of us were working nonstop.

  “I’ll take two marshmallow sticks,” a deep voice said. I looked up. I was currently squatting beside one of the coolers we had brought to the event, counting how many strawberries we had left. They were getting low.

  When I looked up, I was shocked to see Sheriff Marshall Jackson staring down at me. The sheriff was a large man, and his stomach hung over his utility belt. He didn’t wear a hat over his buzzed gray hair, and a pair of sunglasses poked out of the breast pocket of his shirt. The sun was well on its way to setting for the night. When it did, the fireworks would begin.

  The sheriff wore his department uniform. I guessed he wore it because it gave him the air of authority he enjoyed. I jumped to my feet like a jack-in-the-box. “Not a problem.”

  Charlotte put two marshmallow sticks in my left hand. Bless that girl for acting so quickly. “That’s six dollars,” I said.

  The sheriff eyed me coolly as he removed six singles from his wallet and set them down one by one on my table. I held out the cellophane-wrapped sticks to him, but he made no move to take them from my hand.

  Instead, he leaned on the table between us. The folding table groaned under his weight, and I prayed it would hold. “I heard that BCI is on my case because of you.”

  I swallowed and dumbly held the marshmallow sticks up a little higher, as if he hadn’t been able to see them before. I held them right in front of his face.

  With one finger, he lowered my hand. “What do you have to say about that?”

  “I have nothing to do with BCI being here.”

  He leaned forward, and the table creaked. “Oh, I know; Aiden is behind that.” He lowered his voice so that I was the only one who could hear. “I know he’s out for my job. He feigns loyalty to me by not running against me, but then goes behind my back by pulling in the state. I don’t need their help to keep the Amish in line.”

  Beside me, Charlotte shivered at the way he said “Amish.” To be honest, it shook me, too.

  I held the marshmallow sticks in his face again. “Your sticks, sir.”

  He glared at them and then at me. “Aiden Brody had better be careful. If he pushes me too far, I could ruin him.”

  “I’m sure he knows plenty to ruin you,” Cass said sweetly.

  I blinked at her. I hadn’t even known she was listening.

  The sheriff curled his lips at her. “Who are you?”

  Cass shrugged. “Probably no one who matters to you because I can’t vote in this county.”

  “I’m guessing you’re right about that,” put in a woman’s voice.

  Behind the sheriff, BCI Agent Robbie Bent strolled up, and she took the marshmallow sticks from my hand. She wore a T-shirt, jeans, and sneakers. “If the sheriff won’t take those, I sure will. My kids will love them.” She grinned at the sheriff. “Thanks for the treats, Marshall.”

  He glowered at her and then stomped away.

  Agent Bent watched him go, shaking her head. “He makes people in law enforcement look bad.” She nodded to me and walked off.

  Cass blinked at me. “What on earth was that?” I shook my head. I wished I knew, because I had a feeling it would come to a head at some point, and my fear was that Aiden would be caught in the middle of the power struggle between the sheriff and BCI.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  By the time the sheriff and Agent Bent left our booth, it was well after eight. The crowd was beginning to get anxious for the fireworks to begin and had settled in their seats. Our sales became fewer and farther apart.

  A small band was in the gazebo playing patriotic music. Everyone seemed to be having a wonderful time. Every so often, I caught a glimpse of Aiden as he patrolled the square. I bit my lip when I thought of what the sheriff might have in store for him. I wasn’t sure Aiden even knew the sheriff was at the cele
bration tonight. There were so many people on the square and spilling over onto the side streets around the village, it would be easy to miss someone, even someone the size of Sheriff Jackson.

  Deputy Little was there, as were two other deputies, but I imagined there might be even more officers moving around the village. I knew the department was stretched thin tonight. Aiden said that Independence Day was one of the worst days for accidents in the county. People took risks, and they drove drunk.

  I noticed that every time Aiden tried to come to the Swissmen Sweets booth to say hello, we were swamped with customers. I was relieved that he had been nowhere in sight when the sheriff came to my table.

  Finally, as it drew closer to the time for the fireworks, Aiden made it to our table. “You have a second?” he asked.

  Maami smiled. “Go, Bailey. We’re fine.”

  I thanked her and followed Aiden a few feet away. “Something wrong?” I wondered if the sheriff had said something to him, too.

  He made a face. “Kind of. I told you we found the shell casing with the fingerprint on it.”

  I nodded, and then my face fell. “You didn’t find a match.”

  “No, that’s not it. We found a match right away.”

  “What? Who is it?”

  “Bryan Hershberger.”

  “An Amish man,” I said. “I don’t think I know anyone by that name, but Hershberger is common, of course.”

  “Very common. Here’s the thing . . .”

  “What?” I leaned in.

  “Bryan Hershberger died five weeks ago in a drunk driving accident. That’s why we have his print. We don’t usually have Amish fingerprints if they haven’t committed a crime.”

  I stared at him. “A car hit him?”

  Aiden shook his head. “He was driving his buggy drunk and ran into a tree. I pulled out the case file, and it notes there was moonshine in his buggy. Gabe, who is still in custody, admitted that it was moonshine they’d made and that Bryan had been a customer. He didn’t know Hershberger was dead, or so he said.”

  “My grandmother mentioned that accident to me, too.” I stared at him. “So you have to find a dead guy?”

  “Or someone who has access to his hunting rifle. We’re tracking down his family right now. He didn’t have much. He never married. His parents are both long dead. Agent Bent is very keen on closing this case tonight.”

  “I just saw her a while ago. She got some marshmallow sticks.” I took care not to mention the sheriff. I would tell Aiden about it eventually, but when we were alone. The crowded square wasn’t the right place to relay the sheriff’s threat. “She looked like she was off duty. She wore jeans.”

  He laughed. “Bent is never off duty. She’s here on the case whether she looks like it or not.”

  I shivered.

  Aiden’s radio crackled. “I’d better take this. It’s going to be a long night. Don’t tell anyone about the shell casing. I probably shouldn’t have told you. Agent Bent and Sheriff Jackson would not approve, but I did because you have to watch your back, Bailey. Whoever did this went to a lot of trouble to blow up that still using a dead man’s gun.”

  I nodded, and he walked away, speaking into his radio as he went.

  Back at the booth, I was lost in thought as I took my spot. Who would have access to a dead Amish man’s rifle? And it couldn’t be coincidence that he’d died in a drunk driving accident after drinking moonshine from the still that had been blown up.

  I reached under the table to pull more chocolate-covered strawberries from the cooler to set on the table when the bandstand music stopped in the middle of a song.

  “Bailey King. Bailey King. Can we have Bailey at the gazebo?” Margot held up her bullhorn to her lips and shouted my name over and over again.

  “What the . . .” Cass started.

  From the gazebo, Margot waved at me. Immediately, my face turned bright red.

  “Bailey, would you come to the gazebo, please. Don’t be shy.” Margot looked around. “Everyone, I think she could use some clapping for encouragement.”

  It began slowly at first, but then the applause grew. Beside me, Cass started to clap, too.

  “What are you doing?” I hissed.

  “Go find out what she wants,” Maami said. “She’s not going to leave you alone until you do.”

  This was very true. I stepped out of the candy booth and walked over, waving as I went because it felt worse to walk there and pretend that everyone wasn’t staring at me. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Kayla standing a few feet away, glaring at me. It was nice to know that I had an official enemy in the village.

  “Everyone, Bailey King from Swissmen Sweets!” Margot cried as I reached the gazebo.

  I walked up the gazebo steps. “Margot, what on earth is going on?”

  She smiled and lowered her bullhorn. “You will see.”

  I didn’t like the sound of that.

  She lifted the bullhorn back up to her lips. “Everyone, this is our Bailey! Even though Bailey hasn’t been a member of our community for a long time, the King family has been a part of Harvest for generations. The family candy shop, Swissmen Sweets, right across the road there, is an institution in Harvest! It draws people from all over to our lovely village. If you’re from around here, you will likely know it, but if not, you must stop by before you leave.” She took a breath. “I want to tell you all that our village will be even more famous in the coming weeks because of Bailey. She’s going to be more than just our local candy star. We will have to share her with the world.”

  I tried not to look as nervous as I felt. It was almost dark now, just minutes away from the fireworks display. I looked out into the audience and saw every eye focused on me. It wasn’t a comfortable spot to be in. My eyes found Aiden’s in the crowd. Relief swelled through me. He was still there. He smiled at me and gave me a thumbs-up. Immediately, I felt calmer. I also reminded myself that as embarrassed as I was standing next to Margot in the gazebo, she was trying to be nice in a way that benefitted both of us.

  “We want all of you to tune in next Tuesday—that’s less than a week from today—to Gourmet Television at eight p.m. to watch the premiere episode of Bailey’s Amish Sweets.” She nodded, as if answering an unspoken question. “That’s right, Bailey has a television show coming to cable TV that will feature her family’s Amish candy-making recipes, Swissmen Sweets, and our adorable little village. Can you believe it? Bailey is going to be famous and take Harvest with her.”

  The crowd clapped. At least, most of them did. I spotted Bishop and Ruth Yoder in the crowd with other members of my grandmother’s district. Ruth folded her arms. I guessed that she didn’t take the idea of Harvest being famous as a good thing. I also knew that she and Margot were always at odds, so anything the village event planner endorsed, the bishop’s wife was likely to dislike.

  The singer from the band handed Margot a plaque. “That’s why today, I present Bailey King with this commemorative plaque.” She held it up so that everyone could see it. “This is to recognize her contribution to the betterment of Harvest, the town we all love.”

  She handed the plaque to me. I read it, and to my surprise, tears sprang to my eyes. “Thank you, Margot. This is so kind of you.”

  She handed me the bullhorn.

  I stared at it. “You want me to speak into this?”

  She nodded.

  I sighed and held up the bullhorn near my mouth. “Thank you, everyone. I love Harvest and the people here.” I took a breath. “When I moved to the village to help my grandmother with Swissmen Sweets after we lost my grandfather, I never thought I would find the place where I truly belonged. I have met so many wonderful people.” I made eye contact with Aiden when I said this. “And I feel lucky to be sharing this place with the world. My television show came about because of this village. It was the compelling people like you that the producer met in Harvest who made him want to pitch a television show featuring this village. I hope you all will tune in on
next Tuesday, and thank you again.” I handed the bullhorn back to Margot.

  “We are so proud of you, Bailey!” Margot said. “Now, the fireworks will begin in about fifteen minutes. I know you are all excited about that. I’d just like to take this time to tell you about the other exciting events we have coming up in the village for the remainder of July and into August. You will not want to miss a single one!”

  I quickly made my way down the gazebo steps and walked to the side, relieved that I was no longer the center of attention. I held my new plaque to my chest. I planned to hang it in the front room of the shop—with my grandmother’s blessing, of course. No Amish business wanted to look like it was bragging.

  I stood and listened as Margot announced the upcoming events on the square for the remainder of the summer. A hand tapped me on the shoulder, and I turned around with a smile, expecting to see Aiden behind me. The smile fell from my face. It wasn’t Aiden at all, but the small Amish woman with glasses who I had seen with RJ Chupp and his children.

  “Can I talk to you?” she whispered.

  I stared at her.

  “Follow me. Please. It’s about Leeza.” She walked away.

  I frowned, and then followed her to the other side of the green.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  I didn’t think this small Amish woman could hurt me, but I still had some trepidation about following her to the other side of a large oak tree on the edge of the square. I peered around the side of it to make sure no one else was there, lying in wait for me.

  The petite Amish woman was alone.

  I stepped around the tree and waited for her to speak first.

  She wrung her hands. “I’m sorry to have pulled you away from the festivities, but I needed to talk to you, and I can’t have my husband, RJ, see me speaking with you. He wouldn’t like it.”

  “What’s your name?” I asked.

  She blinked. “I’m so sorry. I’m Mary Chupp. RJ is my husband.” She squeezed her hands together tightly. “Elizabeth, or Leeza, as she was called by the Englisch, was my sister-in-law.” Her breath caught. “I’m sorry to have taken you away from the gazebo like that, but I thought this was the only way we could speak without RJ seeing.”