Secrets of Harmony Grove (39 page)

“Troy said it all started with you,” Floyd told me, relaxing against the back of his chair, “and some big myth about the Amish you were always griping about.”

“Myth?”

“Yeah, how everybody thinks the Amish are so perfect and innocent and all?”

“Oh, you’re talking about the ‘myth of the pastoral,’” I said, taking a moment to explain to Heath what that was. I couldn’t remember who first coined the phrase, but it had to do with the average person’s tendency to see the Amish as some sort of unique race, one whose members lived in perfect harmony with each other and with nature, never had any serious problems or concerns, and spent their days in barefoot splendor, romping around their bountiful fields and embodying the very definition of peace, purity, and the simple life.

Because I was in advertising, I was particularly sensitive to how the tourism industry played on that ideal and worked to exploit it. Though this technique of idealization was often used to promote products to consumers, I was uncomfortable when I saw it being used to sell an entire people group, especially one so near and dear to my heart. In truth, though there was much to admire about the Amish, they were just people—flawed, normal people—who at their core were not all that different from the rest of us.

“I hear what you’re saying,” Heath told me. “The more unique and special and different and perfect we all think the Amish are, the more likely we are to want to come out here and see it for ourselves…”

“And stay in the hotels and eat at the restaurants and buy the trinkets and on and on and on. And then we go home raving about everything we saw and heard, even if we never actually spoke to a real live Amish person, and thus we continue to perpetuate the myth.”

Turning my attention back to Floyd, I asked him what that had to do with me and Troy. He said that when Troy and I had driven out here for my grandfather’s funeral, I had gone on my usual rant about the whole myth thing, and as Troy was listening to me, the word that had stayed in his mind the longest was how everyone saw the Amish—and, by extension, this whole Amish-filled area—as “innocent.” Right then, an idea had taken hold, the realization that he could capitalize on that “presumption of innocence” and use it to his advantage.

“See, you have to understand that Troy was the money man for a certain group of people who needed to, shall we say, legitimize some cash flow. Troy had been trying to think up some new ways to do that when your grandfather died. After listening to your myth thing, he decided that this region might just be the perfect location for some sort of cash-heavy business venture.”

Floyd went on to say that all Troy had at that point were some vague ideas, nothing concrete. Then about a week later, after the reading of my grandfather’s will, he and I had gone out to eat with my parents and brother, and we had all tossed around ideas for what we should do with our inheritance. As soon as Troy heard me mention opening a bed-and-breakfast, he knew that was it.

“It was perfect,” Floyd said. “I mean, who would ever suspect a sweet little bed-and-breakfast in Amish country of doing anything seriously illegal?”

Floyd described how Troy had “worked” me after that, encouraging the notion of a bed-and-breakfast, coming up with solutions for financing, and generally ushering me down the path toward what would eventually become Harmony Grove Bed & Breakfast. The key to making Troy’s plan
succeed had rested in his assumption that once I had made it through all the thrill and excitement of planning and renovating and organizing and equipping this place that I would quickly lose interest in the far less exciting day-to-day workings of the inn. He had not been happy when he realized my parents were joining in on the venture with me, however, because he didn’t know whether the same thing could be said of them or not.

“That’s why your mother’s illness was so perfect,” Floyd said, “because it gave him the excuse to talk you into buying out your parents’ share of this place.”

Heath and I both gasped, startling Floyd.

“Oh, sorry. That didn’t come out right. You know what I meant. Anyway, Troy felt better about things when he finally convinced you to hire me as your manager, and after you became the sole owner, he knew we were home free.”

For the next few minutes, I sat there at the table listening as my feelings ranged from hurt to anger to embarrassment and back again. I couldn’t tell if Floyd was being intentionally cruel or not, but it didn’t really matter. In almost everything he said, there was at least a grain of truth.

In some cases, there was far more than merely a grain.

According to Floyd, Troy had always seen me as an excitement junkie, a strong starter who would shoot out of the gate at full speed, wow everybody with my gifts and intelligence and ideas, and give my all for as long as the situation felt new or exciting or challenging. Then, once the big and fabulous opening act was accomplished and it was time to move into the more mundane daily operations, I would quickly lose interest. Sometimes I would bail completely.

To make sure that wouldn’t happen here, Troy had worked hard to come up with what he thought of as the perfect number: just enough of a monthly stipend to make the B and B worth the trouble for me to hang onto it, but not enough to cause any significant dip in the cash that was being laundered here.

“Wait, I don’t understand,” Heath interrupted. “Why on earth go to all of this trouble? Why not just buy his own B and B and not involve Sienna at all?”

Floyd pursed his lips disdainfully.

“That’s how laundering works, man. The business has to look completely legitimate. It needs to be owned by someone who isn’t connected to the people funneling cash through it.”

He went on to say that sometimes the business owners knew what was going on and helped to facilitate in exchange for a payoff. But in my case, the less I knew about it, the better.

“The few times she asked questions,” Floyd said to Heath, “even simple stuff, like what computer software would I like to use or what kind of check-in procedures was I going to have, I just did like Troy said and made my answer as dull and drawn out as possible, and pretty soon she would get bored with it and move on to something else.”

It was miserable enough hearing all of these things about myself and having a flashlight shined on my very soul, but making the experience a thousand times worse was the fact that Heath was sitting here as well, hearing all of this. What was he thinking? Had he ever articulated to himself my shortcomings this way? If not, was he seeing me in a whole new light? Those were questions I knew I would have to deal with later. For now I forced myself to focus on the matter at hand.

Now that Floyd had admitted the truth about what had been going on, it was time to bring the police in on it as well. I said that to him, but much to my surprise he replied that he had already gone over all this with the police, and at great length.

“Well, not the police, exactly, but the FBI and the AG,” Floyd admitted, suddenly rising from the table. “Now that you know that, maybe you’ll stop trying to interrogate me yourself.”

Before I could even tell him to sit down, he held out both palms as if to stop me and said that he was sorry, but he had already said way more than he was supposed to.

“I turned state’s evidence,” he added. “Now that I have a deal and I’m working closely with the FBI, I’m not supposed to be saying anything about all of this to anybody. And you can’t tell a soul either, or you’ll end up getting me killed.”

Of course, I didn’t believe him right away. But after verifying what he had told us with the FBI, I knew he really had turned state’s evidence and
was now working with the feds bring down the group of people behind the money laundering operation.

That turn of events created as many questions as it did answers, chief among them being whether or not I was still under suspicion for having some part in all of this. I also wanted to know if Troy had turned as well. If so, had the mob found out and killed him because of it? Hoping to find answers to my questions—and to clear my own name in the process—I got back on the phone and set up an appointment to meet with federal investigators tomorrow afternoon at their office in Lancaster. Thank goodness Liz would be here to go with me.

Once I hung up, Heath and I escorted Floyd to the door of his room, and I told him to pack his things and go.

“How ’bout we make a deal,” he said, squinting his tired, red eyes. “You let me stay here tonight and leave tomorrow instead, and in exchange I’ll let you in on a little gossip.”

“Gossip?”

“Yeah,” Floyd said, glancing left and right as if to make sure he wasn’t being heard. “Not a big deal to me, but it might interest you quite a bit.”

I studied his face for a moment and then accepted his offer.

“Thanks,” he said, running a hand tiredly over his face. “Okay, well, when the cops brought me home tonight, the first thing I did was call Cap, a buddy of mine on the inside, to find out what he could tell me about Troy’s death. He didn’t know any more than I did, but he did say something very strange.”

I waited, listening as Floyd lowered his voice.

“Like I said before, Troy owed lots of people lots of money, including a couple g’s to Cap. For the past couple of weeks, Troy’s been avoiding all his creditors, not answering his calls, and acting like a real deadbeat, you know? But the day he died, much to Cap’s surprise, Troy actually answered the phone when he called. When Cap demanded the money Troy owed him, Troy said okay.”

“Okay?”

“Well, not right away. What he said was that he was right on the verge of a huge windfall, and that if Cap could wait just a day or two more, he’d get back every penny and then some.”

“Isn’t that what gamblers always say?”

“Yeah, but Cap felt like this was different. Said Troy was on the trail of an actual
thing
, somethin’ super valuable, and he even asked Cap if he could recommend a good fence for selling it once he had it in his hands.”

I nodded, not all that surprised by this news. No doubt, Troy had been talking about the diamonds.

“Now I don’t know about any windfall, or where Troy thought it was going to come from, but Cap says he sounded so earnest he was almost inclined to believe him.”

“So how did your friend respond?”

Floyd shrugged.

“He said, ‘Windfall, schmindfall, you got till Monday and then I’m breaking your kneecaps.’” Floyd grinned. “That’s where he got his nickname, you know? Anyway, Troy said no problem, that what he was looking for was right here at Harmony Grove and pretty soon it would be his. Said it was kind of like a treasure hunt and that he was getting close.”

Troy had been talking about the diamonds all right. But those were
Emory’s
diamonds, not Troy’s. My anger surged.

“Anyway,” Floyd said, slipping his hands in his pockets, “Cap said it sounds like Troy told the same thing to a couple of other creditors that day too, so if I were you, I’d be careful. Whatever ‘treasure’ Troy thought he was going to come up with here—even if he was just blowing smoke to buy himself some time—if word gets out and people think maybe he died before he found it, a couple of very curious treasure hunters just might come crawling out of the woodwork.”

I tried to process that thought, finally asking, “Guys with names like Cap? Bone Breaker? Slice and Dice?”

Floyd laughed.

“Something like that.”

“So what do I do?” I asked, glancing over at Heath in alarm.

“You got me,” Floyd said. “Why don’t I sleep on it, and I’ll let you know if I come up with any ideas by morning. Right now, I’m calling it a night.”

With that, he stepped backward into his room and firmly shut the door in my face.

For almost a minute, I just stood there, frozen, reeling with astonishment. Would the surprises in this situation ever come to an end?

Finally, Heath and I returned to the dining room where we could speak more privately, both of us stumped by this last development. Were we in danger here? Would these shady-sounding people really come here in search of buried treasure? If so, once they didn’t find it, would they come after us, thinking we could point the way? While the thought of that was certainly frightening, I doubted that anyone would show up immediately, not while the police and other officials still had such an obvious and frequent presence on the grounds. On the other hand, Heath and I both felt that as soon as the coast seemed clear, all bets just might be off. Thus, the race was on to find the diamonds for yet another reason.