Read Shunned and Dangerous (An Amish Mystery) Online
Authors: Laura Bradford
Shunned and Dangerous (An Amish Mystery) (11 page)
C
laire wasn’t sure who jumped farther, her or Jakob, but if there was a difference in either direction, it was negligible. They’d been so wrapped up in their discussion that neither had noticed Isaac standing in the shadow of the weeping willow tree for an undetermined amount of time.
“I am sorry. I did not mean to frighten you.” Isaac Schrock, the young man Jakob’s family had raised since the age of four, approached the front porch with humble steps. If Jakob’s presence caused any hesitation for the man, it did not show. “But I cannot stay silent.”
Claire looked from Isaac to Jakob and back again, the slack of the detective’s jaw spearheading a smile across her face. “It’s okay, Isaac. We’re glad you’re here. We just didn’t know you were out there until you spoke.” Rising to her feet, she backed up the steps and gestured for Isaac to follow. “Please, come sit.”
Isaac waited at the bottom, his gaze inventorying his brother’s face in a way that felt as if he was trying to memorize it. “I know I should go. I know that is what is expected of me. But I cannot. I have tried to honor the Amish way these past few months, but it is hard. I miss you, Jakob.” Lowering his hatted head ever so slightly, he cleared his throat of the emotion that was fusing into his voice and then looked up once again. “I miss my brother.”
For a moment, she wasn’t sure if Jakob had heard, his feet seemingly rooted to the floor of the porch, his eyes closed tightly. But just as she was about to touch his arm to bring him back from wherever he’d gone, he brushed a quick hand across his now open eyes and stepped forward, clapping a hand atop Isaac’s shoulder. “As I have missed you.”
She saw Isaac swallow as he worked to reclaim his normal stoicism. “I know it was not right to listen to your words. But what you said . . . I am worried it is not true.” Slowly, Isaac climbed the steps to stand beside Jakob and Claire. “I do not want Dat to be reason behind Zook’s death. Yet I fear that he is.”
Grabbing hold of a pair of wicker chairs grouped together on a far side of the porch, Jakob pulled them over to the swing and invited Claire and Isaac to sit down. Then, when they were settled, Jakob began asking the very questions firing away inside Claire’s head. “Why? Why are you so certain that Dat may have done this? Mose Fisher, of all people, believes in living life by the Ordnung. So why would he snap and kill another man?”
“He did not like Zook.”
Jakob gently thumbed the underside of his chin. “I know that he held Harley responsible on some level for my leaving. And I know that Harley’s quiet yet persistent support of me didn’t help the situation. But really, that was sixteen years ago. If Dat was to snap and kill because of
that
, he’d have done it a long time ago.”
“When I told Dat of new job, he hit table with fist. His face became purple with anger in a way I have not seen. I told him it was a good job. That I would not always fix things and build things in same place as Zook. That we would work together in business but not always side by side. But he did not listen.”
“What
did
he do?”
“He made house shake when he shut the door. He took the buggy to Zook’s house and Mamm begged me to follow. When I got to Zook’s farm, Dat was yelling, telling Zook to find someone else. But I told him I had accepted and would not go back on my word,” Isaac said. “Zook told him I was a man and could make my own decisions just as my brother did.”
Jakob and Claire winced at the same time.
“I imagine that didn’t help things . . .” Then, realizing she’d spoken aloud, she clamped her mouth shut for fear she’d derail Jakob from procuring the information he needed.
“It did not. Dat believed Zook cost him one son; he did not want Zook to cost him another. He said there would be consequences. I was glad Mamm was not there to see the anger in Dat’s eyes when he said those words. She would have been frightened.” Isaac leaned forward and lowered his hatted head in shame. “It is wrong that I am here, that I am saying these things of Dat. Benjamin would be furious.”
Claire didn’t need the light that streamed onto the porch from the inn’s front windows to see the way Jakob’s face darkened at the mention of Benjamin. Nor did she need the sight of the detective’s clenched fists to know he was angry. His words, delivered through tight lips, only served to underscore the emotion. “Dat is not any of Benjamin Miller’s concern. Mose is not his dat. And Benjamin is not Dat’s son.
You
are. And”—he inhaled sharply—“
I
am.”
“Today, Benjamin acts more like Dat’s son than I. For he believes Dat is innocent of this crime while I believe . . .” Isaac’s sentence petered off just before he shook his head in disgust. “I am no son with such thoughts.”
Jakob teed his hands in the air. “Wait just a minute. You have been a wonderful son to Dat. You did your chores faithfully and without complaint from the moment you moved in with us. You never caused a moment of grief for Mamm or Dat during the next five years I was living at home. And you are still there while I am not.”
Claire reached across the arm of the swing to capture one of Jakob’s hands in hers. “You are a wonderful son, too, Jakob, whether your father sees that or not.”
“Thank you.” He flashed a tender smile in her direction then turned his focus back on his brother. “Please. Finish what you were going to say.”
Isaac’s brow furrowed. “I do not know what you mean.”
“You were starting to say something about the difference between Benjamin and you in relation to Zook’s murder, yet you didn’t complete your sentence.”
Isaac’s head sunk lower only to lift enough to pin Jakob with a helpless stare. “Benjamin is certain Dat could not kill Zook. Yet, I am his son and I do not know.”
“Okay, so he was angry you took the job with Harley. Lots of people get angry, Isaac,” Claire said before realizing she’d weighed in on a discussion where she wasn’t meant to be anything more than a spectator. “I’m sorry. This isn’t any of my business.”
Jakob waved her apology away. “Isaac came here, to your house. I believe he wants it to be your business.” He looked at his brother for confirmation. At Isaac’s nod, Jakob resumed the conversation. “Claire is right. So maybe Dat wasn’t happy about your working alongside someone whom he saw as being partly responsible for my choice to leave. Maybe he even unleashed a little anger when he raced out to Harley’s farm that day. But to snap and kill so quickly? I just can’t wrap my mind around that one.”
“It was not quickly. It has been building for long time.”
“Building? As in getting worse?”
Isaac nodded.
“But why?” Jakob insisted, clearly perplexed. “It’s been
sixteen
years, Isaac. Surely Dat has put me out of his mind the way he’s expected you and Martha and Mamm to do.”
“We tried but it was not possible for any of us. I do not believe it was possible for Dat.” Isaac covered the lower half of his face with a splayed palm and released a burst of air against his skin. “Zook did not believe it was possible.”
Claire glanced at Jakob to see if he was following his brother’s words. The blank look she found there confirmed he was as lost as she was. “Harley didn’t believe
what
was possible, Isaac?”
Slowly, Isaac let his hand fall to his lap. “That Dat no longer considered Jakob his son the way he said.”
The pain from Isaac’s words skittered across Jakob’s eyes only to be dulled away by whatever wall the detective had erected around his heart in the years he’d been living with his family’s disgrace. “Did Harley say or do something that makes you so sure he saw a crack in Dat’s resolve?”
“Each day that he passed Dat, Zook would make mention of you. He would tell of how hard you must be working in the big city. He would wonder if you were married and if you were a father yourself. When you came back to Heavenly this summer, he said it was good you had come back home where Dat could see the man you had become.” Isaac straightened his back against the wicker chair and shrugged. “His words reminded Dat each day of your choice and of your absence.”
“Wow.” Jakob stood, took a step or two in the direction of the railing, then doubled back toward his chair, the reality of Isaac’s words clearly affecting him on a deeper level. “I had no idea Harley lobbied for me so hard.”
“Lobbied?” Isaac repeated. “I do not know what that means.”
“Spoke out in my defense, supported me, championed me, that sort of thing.” Jakob sat once again, this time turning his entire body in his brother’s direction “So you’re saying that the constant reminder of my choice by the man Dat saw as partly responsible
for
that choice not only kept Dat’s anger fresh, it also allowed it to build?”
“Yah. That is right.”
“Were there indications it was building? I mean, real signs?”
“Yah. Signs I did not see until I took job with Zook.”
“I’m not talking about Dat yelling at Harley when he learned you took the job, Isaac,” Jakob implored. “I’m talking about signs before that final straw.”
“I speak of the same thing.”
“Tell us about these signs,” Claire interjected in an effort to ward off Jakob’s budding frustration. “Help us to understand why you believe Mose’s anger has been building to an unhealthy level all these years.”
“I do not know how he did it. I do not remember him leaving the fields during the day to do such things, but perhaps when I am with Lapp making toys, he leaves. It is the only way I can see it happening. Zook worked long hours and was gone much of the day.” Claire met Jakob’s troubled gaze and followed it back to Isaac, the weight of the man’s rambling answer clearly weighing on his mind and body. “But I suppose it could have happened at night when Zook was sleeping and Mamm was not awake to notice Dat leave . . .”
“What could have happened at night, Isaac?” Jakob pleaded. “What do you think Dat has been doing at Zook’s farm?”
As if some unseen switch had been flipped off, Isaac stood. “I have said too much. I cannot say any more. I cannot be one to hurt Mamm in this way.”
Jakob jumped to his feet and grabbed hold of his brother’s arm. “Isaac, wait. You can’t say this much and then walk away. Finish what you started.”
“I have spoken against Dat. He would never forgive me if he knew I was here . . . with you . . . saying such things about him. I have said enough. Now, you must see signs on your own.”
“What signs?” Releasing Isaac’s arm from his grasp, Jakob threw his hands up. “How can I help if you don’t talk to me? You have to know that I don’t want Dat to be responsible for Harley’s murder any more than you do, Isaac.”
“You do not need my help. You must only go to Zook’s farm to see what I will not say. If you do, you will see signs of Dat’s anger with your own eyes and I will not be forced to betray him more than I already have. I, in turn, will pray that I am wrong.”
T
he line was five deep at the counter when Claire arrived at Heavenly Brews, the faces in front of her all familiar and all desperate for a little help in shaking off the same morning fog that had her hiding more than a few yawns behind her hand. If any of her fellow shopkeepers noticed her arrival, they didn’t let on, their collective focus on the barista tasked with providing the jolt of energy that would get them through the first half of their workday.
At the front of the line was Howard Glick, the round-faced man who owned Glick’s Tools ’n More. The popular hardware store served as Heavenly Treasures’ opposing bookend alongside Shoo Fly Bake Shoppe. Glick’s store was a popular tourist stop for both men and women alike. The men liked the hands-on Try-Me sections Howard had set up around his showroom. The women liked the extended shopping windows those Try-Me sections afforded them in return. It was truly a win-win for everyone.
Behind Howard and waiting expectantly for his turn to order was Al Gussman, the proprietor of Gussman’s General Store and the landlord for most of the buildings along Lighted Way, including Claire’s. He’d always been a nice man, yet she couldn’t help but wonder if she’d see a different side when she told him she needed to break her lease nearly six months early.
Next in line was Sandra Moffit, the owner of Tastes of Heaven(ly), the quaint eatery on the far side of the street. Like its sister eatery, Shoo Fly Bake Shoppe, the café was a popular spot for tourists craving authentic Amish dishes. For Ruth, the pies and treats she baked were made from simple recipes she’d tasted and helped make her whole life. For Sandra, the restaurant-style food she served in her café was based on years of research and trial and error about a facet of the American population that had intrigued her since childhood.
Directly in front of Claire was Drew Styles, the mostly absent owner of Glorious Books, the new bookstore that had opened next to Yoder’s Fine Furniture the previous month. The shop had been an instant draw much to the delight of both Drew and his fellow Lighted Way business owners who’d been around long enough to recognize the fact that the success of one had a positive effect on all. Assuming, of course, their shops weren’t so far gone any benefit was swallowed up whole . . .
She tapped Drew on the back, raising his answering smile with one of her own. “Good morning, Drew, it’s nice to see you. How are things going?”
“Hi, Claire. They’re going quite well, thank you.” Drew jerked his left hand upward to call her attention to the briefcase he held. “Now that it’s wedding season around here, you’ll be seeing me on this line every Tuesday and Thursday morning. My wife, Jolene, calls my morning cup of joe my sunshine maker. In fact, if you listen to her, the United States Coast Guard should send out storm warnings to all sailors in the vicinity of
anywhere
if I miss a day.”
“I’d be just as bad if it weren’t for the smells I wake up to every morning. It’s hard to wake up in anything other than a happy mood when there’s such amazing food at the ready one floor down.”
“Did your aunt take the morning off?”
She laughed. “Why? Do I look that grumpy?”
He waved away her lighthearted concern with a flick of his free hand. “Nah, just tired is all. Like the rest of us.”
It wasn’t a surprise, really. Especially in light of the way she’d tossed and turned throughout the night thinking about Isaac and Jakob’s shared anguish. To Drew, she merely offered a shrugged agreement before taking the conversation back a step to the first glimmer of hope she’d had for a turnaround in weeks. “Are we expecting a bigger rush in conjunction with wedding season? Is that why you’ll be coming in on those days?”
Sandra turned. “The Amish tend not to work on Tuesdays and Thursdays during this time of year. Which is why, I suspect, both Samuel and Ruth will not open today. Those of us who employ Amish help simply know we’ll be short staffed on those days.”
“Esther never said anything about not coming in today,” Claire offered while trying not to let her shoulders sag too noticeably. So much for a glimmer of hope . . . “In fact, she made a point of telling me she’d be in today.”
“Then she must not have a wedding to attend.” Sandra let out a happy sigh as Howard took his coffee, instantly moving her to second in line. “Sometimes that happens, though it’s rare.”
“There are that many weddings in Heavenly each week?”
“No. Sometimes they’re in other Amish communities in other parts of the state. If it’s not too far, they take their buggies. If it is, they hire drivers.” Sandra split her focus between Claire and Drew behind her, and Al in front of her—her words tossed over her shoulder in their direction when necessary. “You should drive past an Amish home when there’s a wedding sometime. The line of buggies goes on and on and on. Then again, you’ll be seeing what might be an even longer line when that man’s body is finally released and they hold his funeral.”
“Man?” she echoed before answering her own question. “Wait, you mean Harley Zook?”
“Crying shame what happened to that fella,” Drew murmured. “You don’t expect something like that to happen in these parts. The two images just don’t go together, do they?”
Indeed they didn’t.
As Al’s order was filled and Sandra stepped forward, Claire found herself slipping into her own thoughts only to be snapped out of them by the jangle of bells over her shoulder. Turning around, she smiled at the face that had been absent from the dinner table the night before. “Megan, hi! How was your day with Kyle yesterday? Did you guys have fun?”
The young mother took her spot in line behind Claire. “Oh, Claire, it was perfect. We spent hours poking in and out of the stores. We tried that bakery you mentioned and it was out of this world. Then, before dinner, we took a walk out toward the Amish farms. When we were done, we came back and had dinner at”—Megan pointed at the front of the line—“that woman’s café. It was delicious. Everything we did, everything we tried, was perfect. Including the coffee from this place.”
“I’m glad. I kind of knew you’d have a good day here.” Claire kept her focus on Megan even as she stepped forward in line to accommodate Sandra’s successful coffee purchase. “So”—she looked around—“where’s Kyle this morning?”
Megan hoisted her cavernous purse higher on her shoulder. “His new boss called him into the office today to go over some upcoming project. It’s not the end of the world, though, because it means I have a little window for exploring.”
“There are great outlet stores in Breeze Point,” Claire offered. “It’s no more than maybe a thirty-minute drive and they have basically every store you could want there. It’s a favorite day trip for many of Diane’s guests throughout the year.”
“Kyle suggested the same thing after breakfast this morning but . . . well, I have different plans.”
She felt her eyebrows rise. “Oh?”
Megan nodded and lowered her voice. “If I mention those Amish lots one more time to Kyle, I think he’s going to have me fit for a muzzle. But, since he’s not here today, I can give them one more look and see if maybe we could make it work.”
Drew pulled out his wallet and placed a five-dollar bill on the counter signaling the completion of his purchase and Claire’s turn to order. She glanced back at Megan. “A second look is always good, right?”
“That’s what I think. Kyle, however, doesn’t agree. Not for these lots, anyway. But maybe it’ll be different today. Maybe Friday was a fluke.”
Claire tried to focus on Megan’s words, tried to nod accordingly, but as soon as Drew’s lid was in place, her attention needed to be on the barista. “Maybe . . .”
“If you have a little time later today, do you think you could meet me out there and tell me what
you
think?” Megan asked, her bright blue eyes wide with unrestrained hope. “Another opinion would really help get this place out of my head once and for all. Which, in turn, would make Kyle happy.”
“Uh, I guess. If you think that would help.” Claire stepped back to give Drew exit room and then slid into his spot, the promise of coffee making her mouth water. Within seconds her request was being poured into a waiting to-go cup. “What time are you thinking about meeting? I could probably do something in the neighborhood of three, maybe four o’clock?”
The woman did a slight hop of pleasure, instantly chasing away any reservation Claire was feeling about the added task for her day. “Four would be great. Do you know where it is?”
“I don’t think so.”
Megan angled her body toward the coffee shop’s front window and motioned with her hand toward the main thoroughfare that was Lighted Way. “Take this road all the way out past the Amish farms until you get to the end. Make a left and the entrance to the development will be right there. It’s just a dirt road right now as there aren’t any homes yet, but that’s where I’ll be at four o’clock.”
“Then that’s where I’ll meet you.” Claire turned back to the counter, swapping her money and a thank-you for the now-ready cup of coffee. Then, nodding back at Megan, she headed toward the tiny seating area in the front of the shop to check the phone she’d felt vibrating inside her purse while paying.
Setting her coffee down momentarily, Claire retrieved her phone and flipped it open, the missed call icon leading her to Jakob’s name and number. A quick check of her voice mail box showed he didn’t leave a message.
She called his number and waited as the phone rang, once, twice, three times.
He picked up. “Detective Fisher.”
“Hi, Jakob, it’s me, Claire.” She did her best to ignore the butterflies that flapped in her stomach in reaction to his voice. She was hopeless, utterly and completely hopeless . . . “I noticed you tried to call. Is everything okay?”
“I just wanted to check in and say thanks for the talk last night. Aside from the prevailing subject of that talk, it was nice spending time together.”
She swallowed.
“Anyway, I’d hoped to get out to Zook’s place and follow up on everything Isaac said last night, but my morning has turned into a bit of a juggling act.”
She seized the safe ground of Jakob’s words and reined in the odd emotions coursing through her body—emotions she wasn’t ready to try and analyze. “What’s going on?”
“For starters, Harley’s body will be released later today, which means the viewing will start either at his farm or that of one of the other members of his district probably as soon as this evening.”
“Will you attend?” she asked.
“I doubt that would go over all that well.” Then, moving on quickly, he switched gears toward a subject with far fewer personal ties. “Then, on top of that, we got a call last night from Rita Duggan. Seems Patrick was acting up. By the time our officers got out there, he had fallen asleep. I need to get some more information on what happened to make her call us. See if it might lead back to the investigation in any way.”
She waved as Megan exited the coffee shop, the mere sight of the woman giving way to a plan. “I have to head out past Harley’s farm later this afternoon to meet one of Diane’s guests. I could stop there first to make sure no more cows have escaped, and, while I’m there, maybe see if I spy one of those signs your brother was talking about last night.” She lifted her cup to her lips and took a quick sip, the bold flavor, coupled with her suggestion, chasing away the last of her morning fog. “I mean, if it’s okay with you, of course.”
