A Plain Malice: An Appleseed Creek Mystery (Appleseed Creek Mystery Series Book 4) (14 page)

Quietly, I
said, “I know those very well. Becky didn’t leave the Amish to hurt you.”

“I do not want to talk about Rebecca.” H
is tone was firm.

I swallowed.
“You can help me though. Who would want to hurt your farm and your family like this?”

He frowned. “The only pers
on who may be angry with our family is Deacon Sutter, but there are easier ways for him to hurt my family, ones that would not bring so much disgrace to the district. With the help of the bishop, I believe the deacon has finally accepted us.”

Timothy’s jaw twitched. He didn’t believe that
, and neither did I.

“
Maybe the person wasn’t Amish,” I said. “Grandfather Zook mentioned a commercial farming coming into the area.”

Mr. Troyer nodded. “Yes, a commercial farm bough
t the old Gundy place, but they have no reason to even notice us.”

“I heard someone bought the Gundy place, but I didn’t know they were English,” Timothy said. “Is it someone from town?”

“All I know is his name is Tate,” Mr. Troyer said.

Timothy frowned. “I don’t know anyone
by that name.”

Mr. Troyer
resumed his course to the house.

I jogged after him. “Do you know
the police took poisonous plants from your farm?”

He turned, and
his brown eyes bore into me. “Every farm has poisonous plants. We have to be careful to keep them away from the cows and other livestock.”

Timothy raised his eyebrows in question at me.

“Could you identify them if you needed to?” I asked.

“
Ya
. Any farmer could. We have to know to protect our animals and families. Why are you asking these questions?”

“I think one of those plants killed those people.”

Timothy’s father paled. “A plant from my land?”

“Maybe,” I admitted.

Mr. Troyer turned and walked to the house without another word. This time I let him go.

As Timothy and I
were about to leave, my cell phone rang. I check the readout and frowned.

“Who is it?” he asked.
“Greta?”

“I don’t know. I don’t recognize the area code.” I placed the
phone to my ear. “Hello?”

“Where are you?” A sharp male voice asked.

I unlocked the Beetle with my key fob. “Who’s this?”

“I
t’s Hudson,” he snapped in my ear. “Who do you think it is?”

Timothy watched me closely.

“I’m on my way home,” I said.

“
Home? Who said you could go home? Dinner is about to begin and the guests are waiting for you.”

“Waiting for me?”
I squeaked.

“Yes, they are waiting for
you to host the dinner conversation.”

“Dinner conversation?”

“Part of Blue Suede Tour’s full service includes dinner conversation about the sights the group saw that day. Dudley even had a slide show on his laptop for most of the stops. The police took his computer. You will have to make do without it.”

I opened my car door and sat with my legs facing out of the car.
“Hudson, I’m not giving a talk tonight.”

“You have to.
It’s part of the tour. Have you ever seen these people complain about not getting what they paid for?”

“If it’s so important
, why don’t you do it?”

“I can’t do that.
I drive the bus,” he said. “This is a full service tour. You need to be on the ground to assist the guests with whatever they might need.”

I didn’t like the sound of that. “What does
‘everything they might need’ mean?”

I heard him grit his teeth. “
If they have an emergency in the middle of the night, you need to be there.”

“
Hudson, do you think I am spending the night at the Dutch Inn?”

Timothy’s scowl deepened.

More teeth grinding. “It’s part of your job.”

“
Hudson, this isn’t really my job at all.”

“This isn’t optional.”

“Give them my cell number to call me if there is a problem in the middle of the night.”

“That’s not good enough
,” he snapped.

“Then hire someone to do it.”

“If you don’t do this, I will have no choice but to cancel the tour and take all these people home,” he threatened.

Did
Hudson know I agreed to be on the tour to protect the Troyers? I bit my lip. “I’ll be there in an hour.”

“They are ready to eat now.”

“If you expect me to spend the night, I need to go home and grab my toothbrush.”

He grumbled
something I didn’t catch.

“Tell them because
of what happened this morning, dinner will be less formal.”

“Fine, but you had better be here by dessert.”

I hung up the cell without saying good-bye.

Timothy stared at me. “What just happened?”

I stared at the phone in my hand. “I’m spending the night at the Dutch Inn.”

His eyes widened. “Why?”

I told him what Hudson said about Blue Suede Tours full service.

Timothy put his hand on the roof of my Beetle.
“That ogre of a bus driver can’t tell you to do it.”

I chuckled as I swung my leg
s into the car.

He shut the door after me and leaned inside through the open window.
“What’s so funny?”

“I never thought I’d hear you say ogre.”

Some of his frustration melted away. “I have seen the
Lord of the Rings
since I left home. Apparently, there is something called the Smurfs that I need to see too.”

I smiled. “You do.”

His expression grew serious again. “I don’t think you should do it.”

“I can’t give th
ese people an excuse to leave Knox County. The moment they’re gone your father becomes the focus again.” The image of Officer Riley carrying the plant samples struck me.

Timothy
stepped back from the car. “If you are spending the night at the Dutch Inn, so am I.”

There was nothing I could say to change his mind.

Chapter
Thirteen

I pulled into the short driveway of the small, mid-twentieth century colonial I shared with Becky. The house sat across the street from Harshberger’s campus. A tiny guard house stood in the middle of the road leading onto campus.

This was my third home since I moved to Appleseed Creek eight months ago. If I had it my way
, it would be my last. I was tired of moving.

Becky
’s bicycle lay on its side in the middle of postage stamp yard. I would have to talk to her about that again. Our landlord, a sweet elderly lady who lived a block away, was very particular about how the grass should be treated. She did not approve of Becky’s tire tracks back and forth across the lawn. Seeing how she was the most stable landlord I’d had in Appleseed Creek, I didn’t want her to kick Becky and me out over a bicycle.

I moved the bike to the side of the garage as Timothy parked his truck behind my Beetle. He stepped out of the truck while I wondered how I would talk him out of staying at the inn. I opened my mouth.

He shook his head. “I know what you’re going to say, but it won’t work. If you’re staying at the Dutch Inn, then I am too.”

“Okay,” I said.

He narrowed his eyes. “Okay?”

I nodded. “Okay. You can stay at the inn too.”

He stood toe to toe to me and studied my face. “That’s quite agreeable of you.”

“I’m an agreeable girl.”

“Since when?” He chuckled and followed me to the front door.

The front door opened into the living room. Becky
, wearing jeans and a Harshberger T-shirt, lay in front of the television on top of her favorite dog pillow, which she still didn’t realize was a dog pillow despite “Woof” stitched on the side of it. At this point, I saw no harm in keeping that knowledge to myself.

As always, Food Network was on
the TV. It was the only station Becky watched. I had never met anyone with such a love of cooking programs.

My Siamese cat, Gigabyte, strolled over to me and wove in and around my legs. He meowed at a pitch and decibel level
, which only a true Siamese could hit.

“Don’t let him fool you
.” Becky glanced over her shoulder. “I just gave him a snack.”

I dropped my purse on the couch and picked up the cat. He nuzzled my chin. “Becky, what did I tell you about giving Gig snacks? Remember what the vet said. We have to watch what he
eats.”

Gig’s tummy
had begun to hang low with extra weight since we’d moved to Appleseed Creek. As if he understood my words, the feline hissed and fought to escape my arms, and I hadn’t even said the “D” word. “Diet.” I let him go.

She sat up.
“He’s hungry. I always gave snacks to the barn cats on the farm and there was never a problem for them.”

“There is a big difference between a cat living outside on an Amish
farm and a pampered house cat with two attendants waiting on his every need.”

Gig arched his back at me. Clearly, he understood everything I said.

“The vet doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” Becky rolled off her dog pillow onto the beige carpet. “I thought you would be home before now. You left Young’s a while ago.”

“We stopped at the farm to check on the family.”

Becky jumped to her feet. “I thought you were going to go there with me.”

I
had forgotten that I promised to go with Becky to the farm. “I’m sorry, Becky. Timothy took me there to get my car, and now I’m only here to grab an overnight bag.”

Becky hopped onto the couch.
“A bag for what? Where are you going?”

“I’ll be staying at the Dutch Inn for the next few days.”

Her brow creased and her expression was so much like Timothy’s when he was confused or concerned, it made me smile. “Why?”

“
It’s where the people from the bus tour are staying. Apparently, bunking with them is part of my job.”

“
How long will you be gone?”

“
Four nights at most, but I hope I won’t have to stay there every night. I’m going to have to slip away now and again to check in at the office.”

Becky wrapped her arms around her waist. “How was
Daed
?”

I glanced at Timothy. “Why don’t I go pack, and the two of you can talk.”

I jogged upstairs and threw whatever I could think of into my small suitcase. Jane had said that there was no Wi-Fi in the in the hotel, but I packed my laptop and iPad anyway. If I needed to, I could make my own hotspot with my smartphone. I threw in an extra pair of socks and rolled my suitcase down the stairs. “I hope I didn’t forget anything. I hate packing without a list.”

Timothy
met me halfway down the stairs and took my suitcase. “You should have told me you were finished. I can carry this for you.”

My stomach fluttered. It hadn’t even o
ccurred to me to ask for help. Most of my life, I did everything on my own.

Becky sat
cross-legged on her dog pillow. “You hate to do anything without a list.”

That
was true.

Timothy
set the suitcase by the couch. “We can stop at my place so I can pack a bag too.”

“You’
re staying at the inn too?” Becky asked.

Timothy nodded.

She pulled her knees up under her chin. “Don’t tell
Mamm
and
Daed
. They wouldn’t like it if they knew you and Chloe were sleeping in the same place.”

Timothy scowled at his younger sister. “They should know us well enough to trust us.”

I felt my cheeks turn bright red.
Why did I have to blush so easily?

“I know that.”
Becky’s cheeks flushed too. “But I just wouldn’t tell them; that’s all. I learned not telling them things—even when you haven’t done anything wrong—is the best way to go.”

I picked Gig up
, and he climbed onto my shoulder like a parrot on a pirate. “You couldn’t have kept your hair a secret forever.”

She turned around to face the television
. “I know that.”

I gave Timothy a half smile. “
Go home and grab your stuff. I’ll drive myself to the inn. I don’t want to be without a car again.”

Timothy
kissed me on the cheek and left.