Amish Undercover (3 page)

Bailey opened the middle console between the two front seats and popped his sunglasses on. “I’ve been through hard times; that’s why I got into doing what I’m doing. I’ve seen bad things, don’t you worry about that. Things that you would not even be able to imagine. Things that would give you nightmares.”

Marvin scoffed. “I’ve seen men stabbed and I’ve seen men bashed while I was inside. I’ve seen five men set on the one man. I don’t think you could’ve seen anything worse than that.”

Bailey kept his eyes on the road. He was not sure about what he had seen. He caught glimpses of it in his nightmares. He was sure it was far worse than anything Marvin had described. “Maybe you’re right,” Bailey said as he buried the past back deep into his mind.

“Thought so, rich boy.” Marvin looked out the window and muttered, “The only thing I know how to do is paint. Anyway, it’s big business now. There are big companies set up in Hong Kong and all over Asia with factories that are full of artists recreating famous paintings. The good old days are gone.”

“Difference is that they aren’t selling them as real.” Bailey was glad to divert the conversation away from the darkness of his past.

Chapter 5.

A faithful man shall abound with blessings:

but he that maketh haste to be rich shall not be innocent.

Proverbs 28:20

Bailey arrived at Wil’s old
haus
and FBI agent, Simon Peters, was waiting to stay with Marvin. “I’m staying with you too, and when I’m not here, Peters will be here. Write out what you need us to get by way of art materials.”

“I need photos of the Chez Tortoni and every detail you’ve got on the composition of the painting. I’ll need the best photo to be made into the exact same size of the painting.”

“I’ve got all that in the house. How long do you think it will take to paint?” Bailey asked.

Marvin scratched his head. “If you get me everything I need by tomorrow, I’d say it’d take a good two weeks to paint, and then it would need to dry. All up, it’d take three weeks, at a guess. What are you doing about the frame?”

Bailey rubbed his chin. “We don’t need to recreate the frame exactly. The frame’s the last of our problems. I’ll check, but I’m 99% certain that the Chez Tortoni was one of the paintings taken out of its frame when it was stolen. Either way, I’ll scour the antique and second-hand stores for an old frame, similar to the one it would have had. You go inside with Peters and relax, look at all the photos and I’ll be back in two hours to pick up your list of everything you’re going to need.”

“What are you going to do with the painting when I finish it?”

Bailey frowned. “I can’t tell you that.”

Marvin shook his head and walked into the house with Peters.

Bailey got back in the car and realized he was quite fond of Marvin. He was an interesting and talented man, even though he had been on the wrong side of the law.

Bailey headed straight to Detective Crowley’s office in town to brief Crowley’s team of local policemen on the operation that they were about to put into place.

“Good to see you, Rivers.” Detective Crowley stood up from behind his desk and walked to the front of his office to shake Bailey’s hand.

“You too, Crowley. So, you got my brief?”

Detective Crowley gave a huffing sound. “Yes, it took me some time to wade my way through it. There was a lot of information there. I’ve absorbed most of it.”

Bailey gave a quick nod. “Good.”

“Take a seat,” Crowley said as he walked back behind his desk.

When they were both seated, Crowley said, “I’ve got the team organized to meet in half an hour, and you can go through everything with them. Normally, I don’t like the FBI coming in here and taking over, but I’ll make an exception for you.”

Bailey smiled at the gruff detective who so easily spoke his mind. “I appreciate that.”

The detective picked up his phone and asked a constable to bring in two coffees. “Just a minute,” he said to the constable. “How do you have your coffee, Rivers?”

“Black, two sugars.”

“My usual and black with two sugars.” Crowley hung up the phone and looked up at Bailey. “Rumor is you're going to marry Silvie?”

Bailey tried to hide the smile from his face; he was sure that he had told the detective that himself last time he was in town. “That’s the plan, but I’m keeping it on the low. Wouldn’t want anyone to know that I’m leaving. I’m hoping to get this case wrapped up or at least get it closer to wrapping up stage before I leave.” Bailey lowered his voice. “I’ve given Silvie a time-frame, I’ve only got a few more months then I’m joining the Amish.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Have to keep her happy.”

At that moment, a young, dark-haired police officer brought in their coffees. “Anything else sir?” she asked looking hopefully, at Crowley.

Crowley’s mouth turned down and he shook his head without even looking up. Bailey noticed that the eager female officer looked decidedly disappointed at Crowley’s lack of attention. When the woman was out of the office, Bailey said, “I think she’s keen on you.”

Crowley looked shocked. “No, well, if she is, she’s far too young and I don’t approve of these work relationships.”

“You married?” Bailey asked, knowing the answer because Silvie had already told him.

“No, I’m not married and that’s the way I prefer it.”

Bailey studied the detective’s hard face. Maybe he did prefer to be single and unmarried. He wasn’t very nice to people from what Bailey had seen, although both his aunties regarded him highly. Maybe not everyone grew lonely.
Not my problem,
he reminded himself. “Now, do you have any questions for me?”

Bailey was at the police station for two hours before he returned to the safe-house. He walked into the kitchen where Marvin sat. “What do you need?”

Marvin looked up. “What do you mean?”

“Art supplies, and such; do you need an easel and what sort of paints, canvas or what?” Bailey pulled out a chair from under the table and sat opposite him.

Marvin’s eyebrows rose, deepening the lines in his forehead. “Yes, get me some hundred year old canvas to paint on will ya?”

Bailey could feel his whole body tighten with stress. “You said you could do this.”

“Relax, it was a joke. I need canvas, and I’ll have to age it before I paint on it.”

“How will you do that?”

“I can’t tell you that, I need to keep some tricks up my sleeve. It’ll take a couple of days, and that’ll give me time to study Manet’s work. I’ve never done a Manet before.” Marvin threw back his head and laughed. “Not that I’ll admit to.”

Bailey rubbed his head; the tension was getting to him, and he found no amusement in what Marvin said.

Marvin, appearing to sense Bailey’s discomfort, straightened in his chair and cleared his throat. “How real do I have to be? I can put a layer of resin over the top to make it look old, but that’ll be picked up by tests. I need to know what tests it’ll be having so I know what kind of paints to use.”

“I’m getting someone lined up to do authenticity papers for me, but best you go as close as you can just in case. We need to visually fool the experts.”

Marvin frowned. “What do you mean, ‘just in case’?”

Bailey grimaced. “Just as a back up. No doubt they’ll look at it through a twenty or a thirty times magnification loupe.”

Marvin scribbled an address on a piece of paper then handed it to Bailey. “Have someone go to this address and say it’s for Marvin, then give him the list.” Marvin continued to write on a notepad.

“We can’t say it’s for you. No one’s supposed to know you’re out of prison,” Bailey said.

Marvin furrowed his eyebrows. “Look, we don’t have long and if you want this done as soon as possible, I have to get the goods through Frank. I don’t have the time to find anyone else. Time is a factor, isn’t it?”

Bailey nodded and hoped that going to this man called Frank was not going to jeopardize the whole operation.

“Don’t worry about Frank. He’s a good friend and he’ll know to keep his mouth shut.” Before Bailey could say anything, Marvin said, “You’re going to use this painting as bait, aren’t ya?”

Bailey smiled and said, “You know I can’t tell you that.”

Chapter 6.

It is of the Lord's mercies that we are not consumed,

because his compassions fail not.

They are new every morning: great is thy faithfulness.

Lamentations 3: 22- 23

“
Denke
for helping me with the baking Maureen. I’d never have gotten it all done by myself. And with Wilhelm and Grace’s wedding tomorrow, I just couldn’t delay it any longer. Maybe I shouldn’t have committed myself to do so much of the baking,” Emma said. “But, I did want to use my new kitchen.”

“I’m not working today, so I’m pleased to help. In weather like this, I like to stay close to the oven.”

“
Jah
, I know what you mean. It has been cold.” Emma fetched some more eggs out of the cold-box.

“Their wedding is the last of the season isn’t it?” Maureen asked.

“
Jah
.” Emma beat some eggs with her whisk. “Wilhelm and Grace seem so young to get married, don’t you think? I can barely remember when I was that young.”

“They’re both nineteen. How old were you when you got married?”

“I was twenty one the first time and I guess that’s old,” Emma gave a little giggle.

“I was nineteen when I married Paul.”

“Well, it just seems young. I thought I was very grown up and mature way before I married Levi, but now when I look back, I realize how very young I was.”

Maureen rolled out her lump of dough, in preparation to make a pastry crust. “When are Wilhelm and Grace moving into your old
haus
?”

“They’ve already moved some things into it, and they’re taking two weeks to go visiting after they’re married and then they said they were going to move in after that.”

“You okay, about someone else living in the
haus
that Levi built for you? I know you felt funny about someone living there before.”

“I’m over that now, Maureen. I know Levi would be happy that someone was enjoying the home as much as we had. I’ve moved on from how I felt a few months ago. Did you talk to Bob about his paintings?”

“
Jah
, I told him what Bailey planned. He said he’d sell them in the art auction. I’ve told Bailey that, and he was pleased and he’s going over to speak to him today.”

“Bob will come into a lot of money when his paintings sell at the auction. What do you think he’d do with it all?”

“I think he might do something useful with it. He’s very kindhearted.”

Emma nodded. “That’s good. How much did you tell him of what’s going on?”

“I told him the truth. Bailey is trying to catch a thief by slipping in a stolen painting with Bob’s real paintings and that Bob’s name won’t be used. Bob did say he did not need to know the rest.” Maureen laughed a little. “It seems he doesn’t like a lot of chatter.”

“Has Bob ever had a girlfriend that you know of?” Emma knew the answer, but that was her way of pointing out to Maureen that no other woman had ever found Bob appealing.

Maureen was quiet for a while before she said, “I don’t think he has.”

“And do you think he likes you?” Emma asked.

“
Jah
, he does. He likes me, but he doesn’t really know what to do about it. We’ve been on a couple of buggy rides.” Maureen concentrated on rolling her pastry.

Emma stirred in some more flour into the bowl. “You like him?”

“I like him a little, but that’s not really a
gut
start is it? And I know that you don’t like him; that’s easy to see.”

“It’s not that I don’t like him; it’s just that he’s so quiet, and there just seems something not quite right about him.” Emma did not want Maureen and Bob to court or get married to one another. Emma considered that Bob Pluver was far too quiet and there was something she did not like about him. Maureen was right when she said that Emma did not like him, but Emma did not want to admit that she did not like someone. “See how things go and maybe someone else will show up.”

“It would be nice to have someone to go home to,” Maureen said.

“It’s also peaceful to be on your own.” Emma laughed.

Maureen looked up from her pastry and shook her wooden rolling pin at Emma. “It’s only the married women who say things like that. It’s lonely being on your own and having no one to share things with.”

Emma smiled and knew that it was true. When Levi died leaving Emma alone, there were times when she craved the attention of a man, but there were positives and negatives in every situation. On the one hand, there was the peace and quiet that only solitude can offer and then there were times when you crave the companionship of another.

* * *

Wilhelm and Grace’s wedding was held at Grace’s parents’
haus.
Since Bailey was invited, and Marvin’s paints had not arrived, Bailey thought Marvin could use a little Amish education.

Marvin sat on the wooden bench seat next to Bailey. Before the service began he turned to Bailey and whispered, “I bet not many people get to see a real Amish wedding.”

“Well, enjoy it because once your painting gear arrives you’ll be doing nothing but paint. Oh, and by the way, we sit separately and we’ll also be eating at a separate table. We’re ‘
Englischers
’ and being unbelievers, the Amish aren’t supposed to eat with us at the same table.” Bailey thought it best to explain a few of the rules to him.

Marvin nodded. “We can talk to people though, can’t we?”

Bailey answered, “Yes, but you’re a friend of mine. You can’t tell anyone who you are or why you’re in Lancaster County.”

Marvin rolled his eyes and straightened the tie that he’d borrowed from Bailey. “I figured that much out for meself.”

Bailey turned back to look at him. “Pays to be sure. And another thing, the bishop or one of the ministers is about to deliver a lengthy sermon.”

Marvin scowled. “How long?”

“Hour, hour and a half.” Bailey couldn’t help but smile when he saw the look on Marvin’s face.

“Wish you could’ve told me that. I would’ve stayed behind.”

Bailey shook his head. “Not possible, Peters is having a day off.”

Marvin shrugged his shoulders. “Is that why you invited me? I can be trusted to stay by meself ya know.”

“Can’t risk it.”

Marvin’s mouth turned down into a scowl. When the bride appeared down the stairs moments later, Marvin leaned toward Bailey and whispered, “Is that the bride?”

Bailey nodded.

“She’s just wearing normal everyday clothes,” Marvin said.

“Amish don’t wear white for their weddings or anything fancy. It would’ve been specially made for today. It just looks normal to us, but it’s blue, and it’s only the married women who wear blue dresses.”

Marvin’s eyes swept over the crowd.

After a long sermon, the bishop pronounced Wilhelm and Grace to be
mann
and
fraa.

Bailey leaned toward Marvin and whispered, “They don’t have wedding rings either.”

“How do other people know they’re married then?”

“For one, the married men grow a beard.”

“Ahh.” Marvin’s eyes swept over the crowd once more.

After two hymns were sung, everyone stood and moved out of the way so the trestle tables could be arranged for the wedding feast.

“That was the longest thing I’ve ever sat through. I went to church once when I was a youngster, and I swore I’d never go back again.”

Bailey chuckled.

“So this Silvie girl whose hangin’ ‘round all the time making goo goo eyes at you, you’re sweet on her?”

“You ask too many questions, Marvin. But since it’s a happy day and we’re at a wedding, I can tell you that I will marry that girl one day.”

Marvin smiled and scratched his head. “She’s pretty, but are you going to take ‘er away from her way of life?”

Bailey preferred to keep his personal life and his business life separate; he’d never mixed the two before and he was not going to start now. “That’s all you need to know.”

“Aw, come on. You know everything about me. Or do you think I’m just a criminal because I painted a few paintings to feed my family, to try and give them a better life? Do you think you’re so different from me? The bishop just said that all have sinned and fallen short.” Without waiting for a reply Marvin walked towards the drink refreshments table.

Bailey’s heart was moved by Marvin’s words, or rather, by God’s
words. Marvin was right; Bailey did think he was better than a criminal. Bailey had always stayed on the right side of the law, but did that give him the right to judge others and to feel superior? To Bailey there had always been two groups of people, law-abiding citizens and criminals, but in God’s eyes all people were the same – there were none righteous. Who was he to put himself above another man?

Bailey walked up, got himself a soda and stood close to Marvin and said, “I’m going to quit what I’m doing and I’m going to join the Amish. This is my last job, my job with you and the paintings.”

Marvin faced Bailey, his face beaming. “Well, I’ll drink to that.” He raised his soda in the air and took a mouthful. When he was finished he said, “Thank you for telling me; you seem a decent sort of person for a policeman.”

Bailey chuckled and stopped himself before he corrected him. He was not a policeman; he was an FBI agent, but there was likely no difference to Marvin.

Marvin looked at the crowd. “They’re an agreeable lot of folk from what I’ve seen. Maureen’s got a good heart. I’ve had some talks with her when she brings the meals over, and she’s tried to help me sort myself out.”

Bailey took a mouthful of lemon soda. “They’re all nice. My grandfather was born Amish, and my two aunts are still in this community.” He pointed to Elsa-May and Ettie, who were helping lay out the food on the tables. “Those two old dears over there.”

Marvin looked at the elderly ladies and then looked back at Bailey. “You’re lucky then. You’ve got a ready made family even before you marry that pretty girl of yours.”

“Blessed, not lucky,” Bailey said with a gleam in his eye.

Marvin scoffed. “Each to his own beliefs. Page, my wife, wanted me to go to church with her. I refused, and she didn’t go by herself.”

“Go with her. It just might change your life and the life of your children.”

“I just might,” Marvin said before he took another mouthful of creamy soda. “I don’t want my kids following in my footsteps and getting on the wrong side of the law. I want something better for ‘em.”

Bailey put a hand on Marvin’s shoulder. “You’ve got a second chance now, Marvin, use it.”

Marvin looked into the distance.