Murder, Served Simply (8 page)

“O
h, hey, Jasper,” I said as if we were old friends. I tried not to stare at the sledgehammer.

Mattie stood behind me.

Jasper's well-endowed eyebrows knit together. “Do I know you?”

“I'm Angie Braddock, and I own Running Stitch, an Amish quilt shop here in Rolling Brook.” I grabbed Mattie by the arm and yanked her close to my side. “This is my assistant, Mattie.”

“An Amish quilt shop? You're not Amish.”

Like I've never heard that before.

“Got me there. We will just be on our way now.” I took Mattie's hand and squeezed it hard, hoping that would send the message for her to pay attention.

Jasper stepped into our path. Even though there wouldn't be a performance that day, he wore all black like he would as the stage manager during a play. “Wait! You can't just walk away. What are you doing in here?”

I gave my most dazzling smile. “We're hosting the
quilt show in the hotel, and we thought we'd just pop over while we waited for the judging to start to check out the stage. Mattie hadn't been in the barn since it'd been converted to a playhouse, and she wanted to see it. Isn't that right, Mattie?”

Mattie didn't say anything.

I elbowed her.

“
Ya
—I mean, yes, that is what we are doing here.” She sidestepped away from me. “It is amazing how the barn has been transformed.”

I shared another big smile. “We got a good look, so now we will be on our way. We can't keep those quilt judges waiting.” I forced a laugh.

He smacked the sledgehammer in his palm and his opossum-like nose wrinkled. “You aren't going anywhere.”

Mattie began to tremble.

“Why not?” I squeaked. I cleared my throat. “Why not?”

“Because I heard the two of you talking just now. You are about to go to the cops and tell them I was the one who cut the rope.”

“Nope. That thought never crossed my mind,” I lied.

Jasper's lip curled. “I'm not going to be blamed for what happened. Sure, the swing was my idea, but it was safe. I'd stake my life on it.”

Sadly, it was Eve who staked her life on it, not Jasper.

“Angie,” Mattie hissed.

I ignored her. “Maybe you should go to the police and tell them what you know.”

“You aren't going to pin this on me! No way! I do
everything I can to keep the actors safe. It's not my fault if they sneak about the stage trying to off one another. I don't condone that kind of behavior.”

“What do you mean by saying ‘trying to off one another'?”

Jasper turned red. “Everyone knows how actors are. Someone is always trying to beat or better the next person coming up. It's a constant battle to stay on top.”

“And was Eve like that?” I asked as I inched Mattie and myself toward the back door.

“Oh no. She was different.” Tears sprang into his eyes. “She was a good girl, treated me like a person. Unlike the ungrateful others. What right do they have to be all hoity-toity with me? Newsflash, you are in a stage production in Holmes County, Ohio. It's not exactly Broadway, if you know what I'm saying. But Eve was different. It may have been because she was raised Amish. She was a sweet girl.” He reached into his back pocket and removed a handkerchief to wipe his eyes. The sledgehammer fell limply from his left hand.

My shoulders relaxed. “If you think an actor is behind this, is there one actor in particular that you suspect?”

His jaw twitched. “I'd put my money on Lena. She's made it no secret that she wanted and thought she deserved Eve's part in the play. Then again, her boyfriend, the Brit, is just as likely.”

“You mean Ruben?”

“Is there another Brit in the play?” he snapped.

None that I knew of. I swallowed. “He and Lena are a couple?”

“Oh yeah, from what I hear, he flew across the pond
for her. They were going to be the next Broadway power couple by way of Holmes County.” He snorted.

“Angie, we need to get back to the quilt show,” Mattie said. “The judging starts in five minutes.”

“Be on your way then.” Jasper gripped his sledgehammer with both hands again. He marched across the stage to where the swing lay. Before I could even fathom what he was about to do, the sledgehammer came down on the swing with a crack. Wood splintered and flew across the stage.

I dodged a flying wood chip. “What are you doing?”

The sledgehammer came down again. “No one will be hurt by something I created ever again.” Tears coursed down his weathered cheeks.

“Okay then. We'll see you later.” Pulling Mattie by the wrist, I fled through the back door to the stage.

Mattie caught her breath as we clomped up the steps to the entrance to the hotel. “That man is a lunatic.”

“Go inside and help Martha get the quilt judging under way. I need to make a quick call to the sheriff before I go in.”

She nodded and ran into the hotel.

Before the door closed, I had my cell phone out and dialed.

“Mitchell speaking,” the sheriff's rich official voice came over the line.

I tried to catch my breath from the sprint across the hotel grounds in the icy air. “Hey, Sheriff—”

“Good morning, Angie.”

“So I'm at the Swiss Valley Hotel, and um, I just
witnessed Jasper Clump destroy the swing from the play with a sledgehammer right on the barn stage.”

There was a pause. “What were you doing in the barn?”

“Let's not focus on such a silly detail like that.”

“Angie . . .” His voice trailed off.

“Anyway, I'm sorry to say the swing is toast. I hope you got your fingerprints off it when you could. Oh, and Jasper is crazy. So I'm sorry to report you have two crazies in this case, Jasper and nutso Nahum Shetler. At least one is English and one is Amish. It's always good to be evenhanded with the two groups in this county.”

“Angie, take a breath,” the sheriff ordered.

“Okay,” I said, exhaling.

“That's not the swing,” he said.

“Yes, it is. I was there. Mattie too. We saw him go all gladiator on it. All that's left are splinters, maybe a few larger pieces of wood, but mostly splinters. He's got a wicked arm for such a small guy. I guess the last name Clump fits after all.”

“It's the backup swing. The swing Eve fell from is in my evidence room. Do you really think I would have left evidence there? The stagehands and actors will be in and out of the area all day. I can't have them tampering with things.”

“They will be in and out all day. Does that mean the play will go on?” I asked, shoving my cold hands into the pockets of my coat.

“Yes. Farley made it very clear that show must go on. A lot of revenue both for the hotel and for Rolling Brook is at stake. We got everything that we can from the scene.
Now it's down to the interviews and legwork. That's what's going to crack this case.”

“I would still talk to Jasper. The man has a lot of rage and was broken up over Eve's death. There's more to the story there.”

“Angie, I'm talking to everyone involved. It's my job. It is
not
your job. Your job is to sell quilts.”

I felt myself bristle at his tone. “Is there something wrong with selling quilts?”

“Of course not. I wish you'd stick to it though.” He sighed. “I'll send Anderson over there to check out the damage.”

“A lot of good that will do.”

“Please go back to your quilts and stop getting involved in my investigations.” He hung up.

Ryan may have been preoccupied at times when we were together, but he never told me what to do, not like Mitchell had just done—and had done on many other occasions. I pointedly ignored the fact he had said please. Ryan Dickinson was looking better and better.

O
f course, Mitchell was right. I had no business asking people about Eve's death. I had helped Mitchell with his investigation in the past but never with his blessing. I just couldn't get Eve's face out of my head. I knew that we had only met a few hours before her death, but she was a bright and beautiful girl with so much talent and so much promise. How could I not wonder about what happened to her?

I sighed and stepped into the hotel.

In the sitting room, Martha glared at me. She was going to hold it against me that I wasn't there when the judging began. I knew it.

I sidled up to Mattie. “How is it going?”

“Okay,” she whispered. “The judges had already begun when I got here. Martha hasn't said two words to me.”

No surprise there.

The five judges moved around the room as a group. They were each holding a clipboard with a scoring sheet
attached to it. One of my closest friends in Holmes County, Jessica Nicolson, smiled at me. She owned an antiques shop in Millersburg called Out of Time. She wasn't much of a quilter herself. She was learning and taking classes at Running Stitch, but after years of working with antiques, including quilts, she could recognize good craftsmanship when she saw it. Plus, I needed another judge, so I played the friend card and made her do it.

One of the judges walked over to me. It was Austina Shaker. She was a librarian who ran the bookmobile throughout the county. Most of the patrons she serviced were Amish. She knew every back road in Holmes County and could maneuver the bulky bookmobile on every last one of them. I had seen the woman parallel park that monster on Sugartree Street between a buggy and a station wagon. She got it on the first try. It was a demonstration of beauty.

She pushed her wire-rimmed glasses up the bridge of her nose. “Angie, I was surprised that you weren't here when I arrived.”

Martha stepped up behind me. “
Ya
, where were you?”

I glanced back at Martha. “I'm so sorry about that. I was over in the barn.”

“Whatever for? Are there more quilts over there?” Austina asked.

“No,” I said, hoping to leave it at that.

The other judges gravitated toward us.

She clicked her tongue. “Wasn't it terrible what
happened to that poor Eve Shetler? She was such a sweet girl. I always thought so.”

“You knew her?” I asked.

“I know all the children who come to my bookmobile. There are many, but some I remember better than others. Eve was one of those children. You know she grew up Amish right here in Rolling Brook.”

I nodded.

“She made her choice to leave the community,” Martha said.

Austina nodded. “Yes, and I wasn't the least bit surprised when she left Holmes County. I can always tell when one of them is going to leave during their
rumspringa
.”

“How's that?” I asked.

“Their reading choices. For example, Eve was fascinated with biographies about actors and actresses. She would ask me specifically to find as many as I could for her, but to hold them behind my desk on the bookmobile so that no one else knew about her reading habits. A librarian never tells.”

“How did she even know about those people to ask for books about them?” a member of the school board, who was also a judge, asked.

“The Amish aren't as sheltered from the media as they once were.”

Martha frowned at that comment.

Austina sighed, bringing us back to the sad subject at hand. “Now that Eve's gone, I suppose I don't need to keep my silence about her favorite books any longer. When I heard that she left Rolling Brook to pursue a
career in acting, I wasn't the least bit surprised. What surprised me was that she came back.”

“I heard her sister, Junie, told her about the part and encouraged her to return to try out,” I offered.

“Ahh, Junie.” Austina nodded. “I knew she would stay Amish by her book choices.”

“What were those?” I asked.

“I can't tell you. Junie is still very much alive, and that would be breaking patron-librarian confidentiality.”

Oh-kay.

“The whole thing is just too awful for words,” Jessica said. “Eve was such a sweet girl. What do you plan to do about it, Angie?”

“What? Me? Nothing. I'm not going to do anything.” I felt Martha watching me again.

“This is not good for tourism. Mark my words,” Austina said. “I know it will be all the talk of the county when I take the bookmobile out on my rounds later today.”

“You drive that monster in this snow?” Jessica asked.

“Absolutely. I'm like the postal service with books. Nothing will keep me from my patrons.”

“Can we get back to judging here?” one of the other judges asked. “I have to pick my grandson up from pre-K at eleven.”

“Fine, fine,” Austina said.

The woman circled a Rolling Block quilt made by a conservative Mennonite woman living in Sugarcreek. It was one of the most beautiful quilts in the show. I wouldn't be surprised if it took top honors. In addition to the quilts being judged, I had a couple of my aunt's
best pieces on display. Those were disqualified from the contest since they came from my shop.

After the women finished judging, they handed the clipboards in to Martha. Mattie would tabulate the scores, and the winning ribbons would be posted on the quilts by the time the quilt show officially opened for the day at ten in the morning. Jessica hung back and milled around the quilts until all the other judges turned theirs in and left the room.

Martha handed the stack of clipboards to Mattie, and my assistant sat on a love seat and started counting. Martha sat next to her, checking her work. I shook my head. I had hoped that the quilt show would be the start of some kind of peace between Martha's shop and mine, but it wasn't looking like it would be.

Jessica placed her clipboard on the love seat next to Mattie and grinned at me.

“What?” I asked.

“Is
he
here?” Her eyes crinkled at the corners.

“Who?” I said, walking away from Martha and Mattie. I didn't want Martha to overhear our conversation.

Jessica followed me. “The infamous Ryan.”

“Oh,
ya
, he's here. I met him yesterday at Running Stitch,” Mattie said, looking up from her numbers. “He's very handsome.”

I shot an irritated glance at my assistant, and she dropped her eyes to the clipboards.

Jessica clapped her hands. “When do I get to meet him?”

“You want to meet him?” I wrinkled my nose.

“Yes.” She lowered her voice. “I want to meet the jerk who broke your heart.”

“That jerk is right here,” Ryan said from the doorway.

Ugh. I smacked the heel of my hand onto my forehead.

Jessica's pale Irish complexion morphed from white to pink to red to purple in a matter of seconds. “I—I—I'm so sorry.”

“Don't apologize,” Ryan said smoothly. “I am a jerk when it comes to Angie, so the title is well deserved. She just won't let me apologize or admit that.”

“I'd let you admit that,” I muttered. I cleared my throat. “Jessica Nicolson, this is Ryan Dickinson. Ryan, Jessica.”

Ryan held out his hand to shake Jessica's. She stared at it. I nudged her with my knee.

Jessica's hand shot out, and she shook Ryan's. “I've heard so much about you.”

“I bet,” Ryan said good-naturedly, looking at me.

“Now that we have all met one another, Mattie and I have to finish up here and get over to the shop to open up,” I said.

Ryan frowned. “I was hoping that I could talk to you today.”

“Talking is good,” Jessica said dumbly. Ryan's polished appearance and chocolate brown eyes had Jessica under his spell. Me, not so much.

“If you want to drop in at Running Stitch later today, that would be just fine. We can talk there.”

“Won't there be other people there?”

I nodded. “We have our last quilting class of the year today. They're making quilted snowmen, so the store will be pretty busy. You are welcome to sit in. Maybe try your hand at quilting.”

Ryan frowned. “I wanted to talk to you alone.”

“Why don't you let Mattie and Anna handle the class, Angie?” Jessica said without taking her eyes off Ryan. “Ryan is only here for a few days.”

“We can handle it,” Mattie called from the sofa.

Traitors,
rang out in my head.

“I would prefer to be there for the last class. The shop will be closed tomorrow and Christmas Day. Ryan and I will have plenty of time to talk after today.”

Jessica looped her arm through Ryan's. “If you have nothing to do, why don't I show you around town?”

“Jessica,” I said through gritted teeth, “don't you have to get back to Out of Time?”

She waved away my concern. “I have my new intern working in the shop today. Between him and Cherry Cat, the shop will be well covered.”

Ryan looked down at Jessica. “I could use a tour guide to pass the time, and you would keep me out of Angie's way. You'd like that, wouldn't you, Angie?” His gaze held a challenge.

“Sure,” I said, my voice shooting up two octaves. “It's a great idea. Jessica will be a terrific tour guide.”

Jessica dropped her arm from Ryan's and scooped up her coat hanging over the arm of a sofa. “Let's go.”

“Okay,” Ryan said. “We'll see you later, Angie.”

I forced a smile. “Bye,” I said with as much cheer as I
could muster while hiding the tic in my right eye. “Have fun.”

After they left, Mattie said, “Are you okay?”

“Okay? Yes, I'm okay. Why wouldn't I be okay? Ryan can do whatever he wants with whomever he wants to do it.”

“Are you lying?” Mattie studied me. Maybe she saw the tic.

“I hope not,” I said honestly. “Because if I am, I'm afraid of what that might mean.”