Assaulted Pretzel (10 page)

Jakob nodded. “I read the statement you gave to Officer Nettles while I was securing the scene. I know that you didn’t see anything.” He retraced his steps back to the counter to retrieve his gloves and the victim’s camera, casting a pointed look in Claire’s direction as he did. “Well, ladies, I better get back to the station. Got lots to do today.”

And then he was gone, slipping out the same door by which his sister had come and gone before Esther’s arrival at work.

Not wanting to give Esther time to question Jakob’s presence or to repeat her inquiry about Martha, Claire pointed at the newspaper in her friend’s left hand, the headline stretched across the front page leaving little doubt to the front-page story. “So how bad is it?” she asked.

Esther allowed one last lingering look at the door before taking in the newspaper, then Claire, and finally the floor—in that order. “It is like it was last time. But this time it is bad for your aunt, too.”

“Bad for my
aunt
?” she repeated.

Nodding, Esther flipped the folded paper over in her hand and then handed it to Claire. “I am sorry.”

“Sorry? Sorry for what…” The words trailed from her mouth as the below-the-fold headline hit her with a one-two punch to the gut.

S
LEEP
H
EAVENLY
G
UESTS
M
AY
W
ANT
T
O
S
TART
S
LEEPING
W
ITH
O
NE
E
YE
O
PEN

C
laire smoothed a wrinkle from the white lacy tablecloth Diane had put down for the evening meal and released a quiet sigh. Any hope her aunt had escaped the nastiness in the newspaper was dashed the moment she walked in the back door after work and found the woman hunched and sniffling over a predinner coffee.

When she’d tried to broach the subject of the front page article, though, Diane had waved Claire off, blaming the irrefutable moisture in her eyes to a never-before-heard-of allergy and abandoning her coffee in favor of final dinner preparations that left virtually no room for chitchat let alone a heavy conversation.

“Is everything ready in here?” Diane asked as she came through the door between the kitchen and the dining room. “Water glasses filled? Butter out? Bread basket at each end?”

With a practiced eye, Claire took in each of the tasks, nodding her head as each passed muster. “We’re good.”

Diane breezed around the large colonial-style table, stopping every two or three chairs to straighten a knife that didn’t need to be straightened or reposition a fork that didn’t need to be repositioned. “The pot roast is fork tender and the butter is melting into the noodles as we speak. The only thing left to do is transfer the gravy to the two gravy boats and bring it all out to the table.”

With barely a breath taken, the woman continued on, the shake in her voice intensifying at the sound of approaching footsteps. “I’ll take care of bringing everything in if you’ll take care of the greeting.”

“But that’s
your
job, Aunt Diane,” she protested in a hushed tone. “The guests love to see you as they come in from their day and you know that.”

“Not today, dear. Today, I think it’s more important they see your smile. And if you can engage them in small talk about anything other than the inn, I’d be grateful.”

She opened her mouth to argue but resisted the impulse when the first few guests strode into the dining room just as Diane exited through the door on the opposite side of the room.

“Good evening, everyone.” Claire forced every ounce of merriment she could muster into her voice. “Wasn’t today just the picture-perfect autumn day?”

Wayne Granderson pulled his wife’s chair back from the table and waited as she sat down, his head nodding along with her enthusiastic response. “Oh, Claire, Wayne and I took a walk down Lighted Way and out past some of the Amish fields. The sun warmed our backs on the way there, and then felt so wonderful on our faces on the way home…didn’t it, hon?”

The head that had finally stilled began to nod once again in the man’s usual happy but silent way.

“I’d hoped Wayne and I might catch Diane on the porch before she started in on dinner, but no such luck.” Virginia dropped her voice to a near whisper and gestured her head in the direction of the kitchen. “She’s taking this whole Karble business hard, isn’t she?”

At a loss on whether to lie and say everything was fine or to share her own concerns for her aunt’s situation, Claire was more than a little grateful when the male half of the newlyweds claimed the seat to the left of his pretty bride and began to talk about their day. The pleasant temperatures and sunny skies had prompted them to pack a picnic lunch and take a bike ride out into the country. But just as Claire began to relax, Doug brought the conversation around full circle when he mentioned their stop at the coffee shop just down from Heavenly Treasures.

“You’d think, in a town like Heavenly, the media would be a little less harsh, a little less about the sensationalism. But, as I’m sure you knew long before you saw today’s paper, Claire, that isn’t the case, is it?” Doug leaned to his right and planted a gentle kiss on the side of Kayla’s forehead before righting himself once again. “I’ll have you know, though, that neither Kayla nor myself are the”—he hooked two of his fingers from both of his hands in the air and wiggled them up and down—“unidentified guests who felt the need to make things worse for your aunt.”

Virginia pushed her glasses higher across the bridge of her nose and shot a quizzical look in Doug’s direction. “Unidentified guests? What are you talking about?”

“The article. In today’s local paper.” At the second rise to Virginia’s left eyebrow, Doug filled in the blanks before Claire could craft a way to change the subject. “Seems someone staying here saw fit to talk to the local media about what happened in Room Six yesterday—information the
reporter then used to cast a good deal of doubt as to the safety and well-being of guests who choose Sleep Heavenly for their lodging when visiting Amish country.”

Wayne snorted his disgust, dipping his head forward as he did. “Are you tellin’ me this reporter actually thinks this Karble fella’s room being ransacked on the same day he was murdered was a coincidence?”

“Two crimes sell more papers than one,” Kayla Jones mused before taking a sip from her water goblet. When she was done, she set her glass back down on the table and shot a pointed look toward the empty chairs at the table. “But that still doesn’t answer the question as to who spoke to the reporter and said such disparaging things about this beautiful inn.”

Diane hummed her way into the room with a platter of pot roast in one hand and a bowl of buttered noodles in the other, a smile plastered across her gently lined face. “I hope everyone brought their appetites this evening because this dinner is a favorite of my guests.” Then, without waiting for a response, the woman handed both to Claire and returned to the kitchen for the gravy and the vegetables.

“She’s upset, isn’t she?” Virginia whispered across the table. “That’s why she wasn’t on the porch this afternoon, isn’t it?”

For a moment, Claire actually considered concocting a story that had her aunt visiting an elderly neighbor or running to the store for a few needed ingredients, but, in the end, she simply nodded. Diane needed support more than anything right now and all four of the guests seated at the table seemed ready and willing to offer just that.

“With any luck, this whole Karble mess will be over soon and Diane’s next round of guests won’t have to be the wiser.” Wayne’s eyes widened at the sight of the pot roast platter in
Claire’s left hand. “Because, I tell you, there’s not a hotel around here that feeds you like Diane Weatherly does.”

Kayla leaned to the side to afford Claire an unobstructed path to her plate. “Unfortunately, if the
Heavenly Times
is like most newspapers in the country these days, that story will be accessible to anyone doing a search on Sleep Heavenly.”

The fork Claire was using to transfer slices of pot roast to each guest’s plate slipped from her hand and clattered against the edge of Kayla’s salad bowl. Quickly, she recovered the utensil and glanced over her shoulder for any indication Diane had returned with the gravy. When she was satisfied she hadn’t, she spoke quickly. “If it’s possible, could we keep the conversation light this evening? Diane is having a hard time with this right now and I hate to see her so upset.”

Seconds later, Melinda strode into the room, her long blonde hair secured in a ponytail that hit the midpoint of her back. “Sorry I’m late.” Quickly, the public relations executive made her way around the table and sat down in her chair, glancing around at the nearby plates as she did. “What’s that?” she asked, pointing to the main platter.

“Pot roast.” Virginia grabbed hold of her napkin and unfolded it across her lap. “It’s one of Diane’s most popular dishes.”

“I’m here. I’m here.” Diane breezed back into the room with a gravy boat in each hand. “The gravy is nice and bubbly and it’s extra delicious over the noodles…” The woman’s voice faded away as Melinda came into view. “Ms. Simon. I…I wasn’t sure you’d be joining us this evening.”

“Well, I’m here.” Melinda shifted her plate to the left and waited for Claire to come around the table with the platter
of meat and the bowl of noodles. “Has anyone seen Ann today?”

Slowly, Diane ladled up the gravy and dispensed it across everyone’s food, her hand shaking ever so slightly as she did. “I brought a tray of food to her room this afternoon but she didn’t want it. The poor dear is beside herself with grief.”

“I’m surprised she is staying on,” Doug chimed in before rushing to soften his words. “I mean, I would think she’d want to surround herself with family inside the confines of her own home.”

Melinda looked up from the piece of meat she was cutting and made a face. “There is no family. Ann’s parents died years ago and she and Rob never had any children…together.”

Seeing the shake in her aunt’s hand intensify, Claire took over gravy duty, making her way around the table one final time while Diane fiddled with her apron off to the side and Virginia clucked softly beneath her breath.

“I’m guessing she wants to stay close while the investigation is going on.” Wayne chased his last bite of dinner around the plate and then looked up at Claire for seconds. “Diane, I think you’ve officially outdone yourself with this meal, and that’s high praise if I say so myself.”

The outer corners of Diane’s mouth twitched slightly but stopped short of forming an actual smile.

“I suppose Wayne is right,” Virginia mused. “If something awful like that happened to him, I wouldn’t go anywhere until I had answers.”

“I agree with Virginia.” Doug forked up a few gravy-coated noodles and popped them into his mouth. “And then, once she has those answers, I imagine she’ll be tasked with trying to figure out who should step into her husband’s shoes and run the company.”

“Are you kidding me?” Melinda replied while simultaneously buttering a homemade roll from a nearby bread basket. “She’ll be trying to figure out how to run it herself.”

Doug paused midchew. “Can she?”

“She thinks she can.” When the roll in her hand was buttered to her specifications, Melinda took a tiny nibble and then set it down on the edge of her plate. “But running a multimillion-dollar company is actually quite a bit different than hosting a tea for the local gardening club. Meaning, it’s more important. With a lot more riding on it than a mention in the lifestyle section of the local paper, that’s for sure.”

“Mrs. Karble seemed like a smart woman to me when I spoke with her in the parlor her first evening here,” Kayla pondered before taking a quick sip of water. “And besides, when you’re married to someone, you invariably hear a lot of behind-the-scenes details about their job. I mean, I heard all sorts of things about Doug’s job when we were merely dating. Now that we’re married, I imagine I’ll hear even more. So who knows, maybe she’d catch on quicker than you might realize.”

Melinda pulled her napkin from her lap and balled it up beside her plate, her meal virtually untouched save for a few small bites. “Or maybe the thousands of people employed by Karble Toys will be under the direction of someone who knows nothing about toys
or
managing a large-scale corporation,” she hissed before rising to her feet. “And since their only other option is someone with half that knowledge, they’re essentially bound for the unemployment line just like me.”

Instinctively, Doug’s arm snaked its way around his wife’s shoulder in protective fashion. “Ms. Simon, my wife was simply saying that—”

“Yeah. I get it. But it’s not your wife’s livelihood that’s on the line now, is it, Mr. Jones?” Without waiting for an answer, Melinda vacated her spot at the table and headed for the parlor door, stopping midway across the room to address Diane. “They say that tragedy has a way of waking people up and making them see all sorts of things, Miss Weatherly. Sometimes it’s the need to stop and smell the roses and really appreciate the important people in your life. Sometimes it’s the need to be vigilant about your comings and goings. And sometimes it’s the need to fix weak spots that allowed the tragedy to happen in the first place.”