Murder, Served Simply (16 page)

N
ehemiah led us down a long line of trees. All around us, English couples and families chopped at trunks with axes just like the one on Nehemiah's shoulder. The Amish tree farmer glanced over his opposite shoulder. “What kind of tree are you looking for?”

“An eight footer,” Dad piped up. “An extra full.”

“Whoa.” I stepped ahead of my father. “Dad, my ceiling is just at eight feet.”

“Aww.” He slung his arm around my shoulder. “We'll make it fit.”

“I have just the tree for you,” Nehemiah said, and quickened his pace.

The Amish farmer led us on a winding path through the tree farm. Evergreen after evergreen—any of them looked fine to me. I couldn't distinguish any differences between one and the next. As we went, we got farther and farther away from the other English families looking for trees. Suddenly, Nehemiah turned and disappeared down another row. We scrambled to follow him. He came to a stop in front of an enormous tree, which rose several feet above my dad's head and was twice his girth.

“Yikes,” Ryan whispered.

My thoughts exactly.

Nehemiah patted the tree. “Isn't she a beaut? She's a Douglas fir, and the best one I have. I hate to see her go, but it's time. No farmer can become too attached to his crops or livestock. The end result will always be the same.”

I stared up at the tree. “Um, are you sure that's only eight feet tall?” I asked. “I think it's eighteen.”

“Actually she's ten, but by the time we trim her down to get onto your car roof, she will be eight.”

My mother placed her hand on Dad's arm. “Kent, maybe something more modest would be better.”

The tree was the size of a bus. There was no way it would fit in my living room.

“What about this one?” I asked, pointing to a similar tree, but one that was just a few inches taller than my height of five foot nine.

Nehemiah turned. “That is also a Douglas fir.”

Dad sighed. “It will be your tree, Angie Bear. If you want the smaller one, I suppose that will be okay.”

I smiled. “Thanks, Dad. I think that with this one, we'll actually be able to sit in the living room and open presents on Christmas morning. With that one”—I pointed at the huge tree—“the chances of our fitting in the room with it are slim.”

“All right,” my father said. “The smaller tree it is.”

Nehemiah handed my father the ax. “Here you go.”

Mom, Ryan, and I instinctively backed up.

“Mr. Braddock, have you ever used an ax before?”

My father hefted it into his hands. “It's been some time, but it's like riding a bike. You whack the blade end on the tree's trunk easy as pie.”

“In my opinion,” Mom said, “making a pie is rather hard. Nehemiah, perhaps you could show my husband the proper technique before we have a casualty.”

The Amish man laughed and accepted the ax when Dad handed it to him. “I can show you.”

Crack! The ax cut into the trunk of the tree. Immediately, twittering erupted from the branches. Three starlings burst out.

Oliver froze in sheer terror, and then he was off like a ball from a cannon.

“Oliver!” I ran after him.

“Angie!” Mom cried.

I waved at her. “It's okay. Keep chopping down the tree. I'll get him.”

Oliver was running at full speed, and he wasn't easy to spot in the trees since the sun had now completely set. The moonlight and the occasional gas-lit lantern hanging from a post were all I had to guide me.

I turned to see Ryan running behind me. I clenched my jaw. I wished he would just leave me and my dog alone. We were doing just fine without him in our lives. Now he was back and causing trouble.

Oliver paused in a fork in the path either to contemplate his options or catch his breath. In any case, I took my opportunity. I dove and tackled the Frenchie to the ground. He fought against me. “Shh . . . shh . . . Ollie.”

Ryan's boots skidded to a stop just beside my ear. He bent over to catch his breath. “I forgot how fast the two of you could run.”

I struggled to a sitting position with Oliver in my arms.

Ryan offered me his hand. I tucked Oliver under my left arm and took Ryan's hand with my right hand.

I stood and he held on to it for a little bit too long. I pulled my hand away and suddenly got a fit of giggles.

Ryan's face broke into a smile, and he started laughing too. Soon we were both doubled over in near hysteria.

“I don't know what is so funny,” I said, gasping.

“Neither do I,” he said. “I haven't laughed this hard since we broke up.”

The laughter died on my lips.

Ryan frowned. “I ruined the moment, didn't I?”

I pulled Oliver's leash out of my coat pocket and clicked it onto his collar. “You killed it dead.”

He sighed.

I looked around; we were surrounded by trees, hundreds of dense pine trees, and long shadows.

Uh-oh. “Um,” I said. “Do you know the way back?”

Ryan fished in his pocket for his smartphone.

I rolled my eyes. “Your GPS is not going to get us out of here. We are off the grid.”

“Oh, right.” He put the phone back in his pocket. “Should we call your parents?”

“Not yet.” I pointed in the direction that we came.
“We ran through fresh snow. We can just follow our trail out.”

“Wow, you are like a Girl Scout now. What other mad survival skills have you picked up in the country?”

“Shut up,” I said, but I was smiling.

Ryan chuckled.

We walked in silence for a few dozen yards.

“It's hard to believe little Oliver ran this far,” Ryan said. “But I'm not complaining. I always enjoy time alone with you.”

I glanced over my shoulder at him and narrowed my eyes. “Don't start and don't get any ideas.”

“Angie, I don't think—”

Whatever Ryan was thinking was cut off by an angry shout. “I told you to leave!”

“Wha—”

A muffled, clearly angry reply came back.

Ryan pulled me into the thicket between the trees. The spiny branches pulled at my winter coat and scratched my face.

“What are you doing?” I hissed.

“Shh,” Ryan breathed into my ear.

I swallowed. He was too close to me.

“I won't, not without an answer!” a second voice shouted.

The voices came closer and sounded angrier with every step. Soon two men appeared on the path and trampled the footprints that Ryan and I had been following back to my parents.

They were two Amish men, two brothers. Nehemiah and Nahum. Now that they stood face-to-face, there was
no doubt they were related. They had the same deep-set eyes and bushy hooded brow, which made them appear angry, even when they were not. However, at that moment, I thought it was safe to say that they were both very angry.

“Nahum, get out of here,” Nehemiah said through clenched teeth.

“You bring a curse on our family with this business.” Nahum's face was bright red. “You sell out your soul to make a dollar from the
Englischers.
Selling Christmas trees.” He spat. “What would our father say at such a thing? Christmas trees for the
Englisch
and the
Englisch
only.”

“It is no different than any of the Amish factories that make motor homes or electric tools for the
Englisch
to use. We have to adapt a little so that our culture won't be lost.”

“You believe we have to adapt.” Nahum sneered. “I am loyal to the Old Order way.”

“The Old Order way?” Nehemiah spat. “You aren't even part of a district. You can't be Amish and not be part of a community. That's what it means to be Amish. You are the one who would be a disappointment to our father.”

“I am more of an Amish man than you can ever pray to be.”

“I told you to leave.” Nehemiah's voice was measured, threatening. If I were Nahum, I would have run for it. Nehemiah added something back in Pennsylvania Dutch.

Nahum scowled. “That is the reason Eve left. It is the reason she is dead.”

I gasped, and Ryan covered my mouth with his hand.

I yanked it away.

Nehemiah closed his eyes. “You are no longer my brother. Leave. You made your choice. You are not my family. You will never be welcomed back.”

Nahum's chest moved up and down as he stared at his brother. “Why would you even think I would want to come back?” He stomped toward Ryan and me.

Ryan pulled me back deeper into the brush.

Nehemiah stood there for a moment, and then walked in the opposite direction from his brother. I listened to the crunch of his footsteps in the snow until they faded away into nothing.

Ryan and I stayed in our hiding place for two more minutes. Oliver tugged at my pant leg with his teeth, and I stumbled out of the trees.

I brushed pine needles off my coat. It was no use. They stuck to the wool like Velcro. Ryan's coat was even worse, but I wasn't going to tell him that.

Ryan plucked a stick off my stocking cap. “The man Nehemiah was speaking to is clearly insane.”

“That's his brother Nahum. They are both Eve's uncles.” I stamped my cold feet. “He's also my friend Rachel's father.”

“Rachel from the bakery?”

I nodded. “I just wish he had said that part about whatever had caused Eve's death in English. The answer was right there, and I didn't understand a word of it. Maybe Jonah and I will find out tomorrow.” My
shoulders drooped. “If Jonah had been here, I would already know the answer.”

“Wait.” Ryan watched me in the dim light. “How will you and Jonah find out tomorrow?”

“Never mind. Let's go this way.” I took two steps up the path. Nehemiah would be heading back to the barn entrance.

Ryan grabbed my arm. “Tell me.”

I yanked my arm away from him for the second time that day. “I wish you would stop doing that. We have to get moving. I don't know about you, but I don't want to be lost in the trees in the dark.”

“Are you going to talk to Nahum?”

“Ryan, let's go.” I started walking again.

“I'm not leaving until you tell me. I'll stand here all night.”

I spun around. “What? Are you twelve?”

He folded his arms. It would have been comical if it weren't so ridiculous.

“You will freeze to death.”

He shrugged.

“Suit yourself.” I headed up the path with Oliver in tow.

I made my way, following the footprints Nehemiah had left behind. The tracks were clear and easy to follow in the moonlight as if the Amish tree farmer had been stomping his way back to the entrance. Considering how angry he had been with his brother, it was certainly possible that he had been stomping.

Oliver stopped and started pulling on his leash and nodding back in the direction that we came.

“Oliver,” I complained.

He wiggled his batlike ears at me.

“Ryan made his choice. This is just one of
many
poor decisions he's made in his life.”

Oliver barked.

“Ugh. Okay, okay. But I don't agree with this.”

Oliver wiggled his hindquarters like he always did when he knew he had won an argument. Sadly for me, this happened more often than I would like to admit.

Oliver and I trudged through the snow, back to the place where I had left Ryan. When I appeared through the trees, Ryan grinned. “I knew you would come back.”

“You have Oliver's kind heart to thank, not mine.”

“So?” He arched one eyebrow.

“Fine. I don't know why you care, but Jonah and I plan to pay Nahum a visit at his cabin in the morning.” I waved him on. “Now, let's go already.”

Ryan started to follow me. “I'm coming with you,” he said. His mind was made up.

I stopped this time. Now the light was all but gone. However, we were close enough to the entrance that I could see lanterns moving in the trees and hear the sound of people talking and laughing. “Ryan, I'll be with Jonah. I'll be fine.”

“Okay.” He reached into his coat pocket again and came up with his phone. “I'll just give Sheriff Lover Boy a call and let him know what you have planned. If he doesn't throw you into the county jail for your own protection, I would be surprised.”

I closed my eyes for a moment and counted to ten in
Pennsylvania Dutch. “Fine. You can come, but it will be early. I will swing by your hotel at seven to pick you up.”

He smirked. “Excellent.”

“P
ut your back into it,” Dad cried as we tried to push the six-foot-tall, still-way-too-big-for-my-house tree through my front door. Mom and Dad were on the inside pulling on the tree, and Ryan and I were on the outside pushing.

“Getting a real tree was such a great idea,” Ryan muttered.

“On the count of three. One. Two. Three. Push!”

Ryan and I pushed with all our might. The tree didn't budge, but then there was a crack from one of the branches, which had been snagged on the doorframe, and the tree flew forward.

Mom yelped from the other side, and I sprawled spread-eagle on top of the Douglas fir.

“Huzzah!” Dad crowed. “We did it!”

I rolled off the tree and onto the hardwood floor with a thud. “Ow.”

Ryan gave me a hand up. This time I dropped his hand immediately.

Mom, fortunately, was safely all the way across the room. Oliver's eyes bugged out of his head from behind her leg. He couldn't bear to get any closer.

It took another half hour to get the tree upright in the stand that Dad had thought to stop and buy on the way
home from the tree farm. Finally, it was up. It looked huge, completely dominating my tiny living room.

“It makes a statement,” Dad said.

“Fire hazard,” Ryan murmured.

I tried very hard not to smile at the comment but failed, and by his smile, Ryan noticed.

Dodger stared at the tree as if he were Indiana Jones seeing the Holy Grail for the very first time. His thin pewter-colored tail whipped back and forth in anticipation.

Ryan pointed at Dodger. “That's going to be a problem.”

I didn't doubt it.

“Okay,” I said. “It's time I took Ryan back to the hotel for the night. I'll drop him off, and then I have my trustees' meeting. I should be back in a few hours. I never know how these meetings are going to go.”

Dad walked around the tree, examining every angle. “Sounds good, Angie Bear.”

“I'll start working on a color scheme for the tree,” Mom said.

“Terrific,” I replied, and headed for the door. At least the new project would keep my parents occupied.

Oliver had had a long day, which included a bird encounter, so I decided to leave him at home with my parents. I also hoped that he would keep an eye on Dodger,
because Ryan was right. Dodger and the Christmas tree were a dangerous combination.

I was thankful that Ryan was quiet on the ride back to the hotel. I think we were both too worn-out from wrestling with the tree to have any conversation about our relationship status. That was fine with me. As far as I was concerned, that door was shut, and Dodger hid the key.

As we drove up the long hill that led to the hotel, I had to marvel at how pretty the place looked with the twinkle lights in the trees and the dozens of windows giving it a warm yellow glow. What had Eve felt after seeing it again for the first time after spending difficult years struggling in New York? Had she found the scene welcoming, or had she suspected trouble instantly? Was the trouble here already in Holmes County from one of her family members, or had she noticed it around her in the acting troupe?

I pulled my car into the hotel's circular front drive.

Ryan opened the door. “You certainly keep it exciting, Angie.”

“I try.”

He climbed out of the car and held on to the door before closing it. “Don't forget me tomorrow morning.”

“You are probably going to regret wanting to tag along.” I examined his expensive wool coat, which was still decorated with pine needles from our leap into the trees. “A word of advice—wear something more country tomorrow. From what I hear, Nahum's cabin is way back from the road.”

“I'll country it up for you, Miss Braddock. Don't you
worry your pretty little head about that.” He slammed the door shut.

Ugh.

As I turned my car around, I passed the barn. The place was lit up, and then I remembered Blake's saying play practice had been postponed until that evening. I parked in an open spot next to the barn. The trustees' meeting would just have to wait.

I entered the barn through the main doors. No one noticed me when I stepped inside, because all of the attention and energy were focused on center stage, where Lena stood in Eve's Amish costume, holding back tears.

Wade marched back and forth in front of her. “No, no, no! That is so off-key!” the director bellowed from the foot of the stage. “Can't you get it right just once? That's all I ask. This production is going down in flames. I will be ruined. First I lose my star, and now I have to deal with an understudy who can't even find middle C!”

“It's not like anyone will notice. This isn't Broadway,” Jasper muttered from the wings. “Not even close.”

The director jumped on the stage in one leap and got into Jasper's face. “I don't care if this is Broadway or not. We treat every production like it is our last. In your case, it very well might be. If you had secured your set, we wouldn't be in this mess. Eve would still be here, and I wouldn't have to contend with a second-rate soprano.”

Ruben, also in his costume, which for his role as an English young man, consisted of a business suit and tie, stepped off his mark. “Wait just a minute, Wade. You know Lena could have outsung Eve any day. In fact, she should have had the lead in the first place. Instead, you
gave it to a nobody, and we are all suffering because of it.”

Wade's complexion went from white to flaming tomato in two seconds flat. “Hold your tongue. That girl was a better actor than you and your sweetheart have any hope to be. She was destined to be a star.”

Lena left her mark and joined Ruben. She whispered something to him.

Ruben frowned at his girlfriend. “I won't keep quiet. It's the truth.” He turned back to Wade. “Maybe you should take a minute to notice you're pushing Lena too hard. She can't sing when you are screeching at her. She's just tired and is under too much stress. Give her a break so that she can collect herself. You've been yelling at her, at all of us, for more than an hour. It's a wonder we are able to get through a single scene.”

Wade folded his arms. “I have a better chance of going hoarse than she has a chance of hitting the right note.”

Lena wiped a tear from her cheek. “I know I can do better, Wade. Just show me you believe in me.”

The director threw up his hands. “I don't have any other choice but to use you. We have another performance in three days.” He held up three fingers. “Three. Do you know what that means? It means we practice twice every single day before the performance until we are ready.”

“What about Christmas?” one of the other actors dressed up like an Amish man asked.

“You all know that you gave up Christmas when you signed up for this play. That hasn't changed.”

“But we weren't supposed to have practice on Christmas,” the man grumbled.

Wade glared at him. “Well, my star wasn't supposed to die in the middle of the performance either.” Wade pointed at Lena. “She's the reason we have practice on Christmas. Now, everyone take five. Lena, this is the role you wanted, and you are wasting it. At this rate, I will have to cancel all the performances if you can't pull it off.”

The other actors slunk offstage. Many of them gave Lena accusatory looks for being the reason for practice on Christmas Day. I wouldn't want to be in Lena's position within the acting troupe.

Lena's face turned bright red. “I can hit the notes, Wade. I just need a minute.” She covered her face and ran offstage. Ruben followed in her wake.

Jasper strutted into center stage with his hands in his pockets and grinned at Wade. “You are grasping at straws, man, and at a lost dream. I know it must be hard to be back in the small time when you've already seen your name in lights.”

Without warning, Wade decked Jasper. The stage manager staggered backward and then catapulted himself at the director. The two men fell onto the stage floor with a bang. They threw punches and kicks at each other as they rolled across the dusty floor. Cast and crew flooded the stage, apparently with the goal of pulling the two men apart. Blake got ahold of Jasper, but he was soon thrown off and landed on his backside a few feet away. No one else dared get that close again. They stood and watched with their mouths hanging open.

I ran toward the stage. “Someone do something before they kill each other.”

Collectively the cast and crew turned to me as if I had appeared out of nowhere, which as far as they were concerned, I had.

Jasper and Wade continued to pummel each other and rolled closer and closer to the edge of the stage. Finally, they rolled so close to the edge, they fell off onto the hard pinewood floor.

I winced.

However, the jar of the fall didn't stop them from beating on each other.

I rummaged through my massive purse and came up with a full water bottle. I could always count on my purse in a moment of crisis. I opened the bottle and dumped the contents on the two men.

“What the—,” Wade cried.

Jasper crawled away from him. There was a cut over his eyebrow, and his lip was split open and bleeding. Wade didn't look much better. The director had two black eyes and a bloody nose.

Jasper struggled to his feet and looked intent on jumping Wade again. Blake jumped off the stage and took ahold of his boss's arm. “Hey, man, calm down. Calm down.”

“I'll kill him,” Jasper warned. His pointy, ratlike features twitched.

A chill ran down my spine. Jasper spoke like a man who had followed through on that promise in the past. Had Eve been the victim last time?

Two young actors helped their director to his feet. Wade wiped the back of his hand across his face, smearing blood across his cheek in the process. He shook the men off him. “This is the end for you, Jasper. I will ruin you.” The director turned and half walked, half limped from the floor entrance to the backstage.

“You can't ruin me,” Jasper yelled, stomping in the opposite direction.

“What do we do now?” one of the actors asked.

“Um, I guess, take a fifteen-minute break,” Blake said.

The cast and crew wandered off the stage, grumbling under their breath. Blake sat at the foot of the stage and spotted me. He hopped to the ground. “What are you doing here?”

I walked down the aisle like I had every right to observe their play practice. “I met you earlier in the lobby when you were playing swords.”

Blake's ears turned bright red. “I remember.”

“I didn't mention then that I'm a township trustee.” I held out my hand, and he shook it. I resisted the urge to wipe my hand on my coat after the handshake. “I dropped in, representing the township trustees' board. We have a meeting tonight, and I wanted to be able to report back how well rehearsals are going.”

He flicked his long bangs out of his eyes with a jerk of his head. “Not very well. Everyone is on edge. I guess you might have seen the fight between Jasper and Wade.”

“I did,” I said, happy he brought up the subject so I
didn't have to. “Do you know what the argument is about?”

He shrugged. “They've known each other forever, longer than I've even been alive.”

I eyed him. “How old are you?”

“Nineteen, but I'll be twenty next month,” he added quickly.

“You're not much older than the stagehands they hired here in the county.”

Blake straightened up to his full height, which was an inch or two shorter than me. “They are just hired help to assist with the heavy lifting. I'm the assistant stage manager, and I have many more responsibilities than they do. Jasper depends on me to keep the show running.”

“Like he depended on you to check the swing's ropes before Eve went onstage.”

He finger combed his bangs. “How do you know about that?”

“I told you I am a township trustee. We have to know this information in order to better serve the community.”

Blake's brow wrinkled as he thought about what I had just said. I hoped he wouldn't think too hard on it. “Do you want me to get Wade for you?”

“No,” I said a little too quickly. “I mean, he seems to be very upset. I can talk to him later. You will all be here through Christmas, so I'll have lots of opportunity to see him again.”

Blake kicked the leg of one of the padded folding chairs in the audience seating section. “I can't believe I'm spending my Christmas here. I should quit and go
see my parents in Chicago. But I only joined because of Wade in the first place.”

“Because of Wade?” I asked.

He stopped kicking the chair. “Don't tell me you don't know who Wade Brooklyn is.”

I shook my head. “I don't really follow Broadway.”

“He was, like, one of the most famous stage directors in New York. He directed productions on Broadway for nearly twenty years. Everyone wanted to work with him. Bette, Meryl, the entire A-list.”

“What happened? Why is he here instead of in New York?” I shifted my bag on my shoulder. I should really take some stuff out of it. It always got heavy by the end of the day.

“That's the mystery. No one knows for sure . . . at least no one I've talked to.”

“So Bette and Meryl might know,” I joked.

He gave me a withering look. “All I do know is it involved a young actress, and I heard whispering about something being settled out of court. I don't know the actress's name. She wasn't famous or anything. She kind of disappeared after that.”

Involved a young actress? I couldn't help but think of Eve.

I tapped a finger to my cheek. “So after whatever happened with Wade and the young actress.” I grimaced as I thought of the possibilities. “Then what happened? Wade was kicked out of Broadway?”

“From what I heard, no one asked him to leave. He just did. He disappeared for nearly twenty years, and then an advertisement appears in the trade journals for
this production he's directing in Holmes County, Ohio. I applied right away. I wouldn't have another chance to work with such a genius.”