by Mary Barbee
"Now, let's get down to business. Did you know that the sheriff was investigating the recent spike in robberies in this town?" the detective asked, turning the tone down a bit in an effort to make Moses trip up in the details.
Moses was working very hard to stay calm. The last thing he wanted was to appear to be an angry man that could lose his temper when provoked. He figured that the more he cooperated with this man, the sooner he could get home.
"I had heard about the robberies, and I just assumed he was investigating them," he replied. The detective had no notepad nor pen, and Moses wondered how this guy would take notes on important details if he even had any to share. He was simply busy sucking on cigarette after cigarette and staring at him.
"So, tell me about the robberies - or about what you heard about the robberies then," he asked. Moses was too shook to respond. Was it his imagination that now this guy was blaming him for the robberies, too? How would he even have time for this life of crime that he was being accused of? He didn’t know how much longer he was going to be able to take this absurd questioning and accusations. He was a hard-working honest man, a good father and family man... and whoever did this was running free right now.
Realizing yet again that Detective Stewart was just sitting across the table, watching and analyzing every single movement and reaction to each question, Moses took a deep breath and pulled himself together.
"I'm not really sure when the robberies started but I think Mr. Fisher's widow was the first victim. You see she wasn't exactly born Amish. She...er...met Mr. Fisher during his Rumspringa and fell in love with him. As part of her old life, she refused to let go of her jewels. We didn't know that at the time until she was robbed of them. We didn't take it seriously because you know....it was just jewels. But the robberies spread. Farms were robbed. Animals were stolen. Valuables. It was horrible," he said. Stewart's eyes were steadfast on him.
"You know it's interesting that you mentioned the jewels," he said, rising. He walked over to the counter and brought out a brown envelope. He jiggled the envelope. Moses heard the sound of something bouncing around inside the paper walls. Detective Stewart walked back to the table and carelessly tossed the contents of the envelope onto the table. Something round, small, and glistening rattled on the table.
"Do you recognize this?" the detective asked. Moses shook his head.
"What is that?" he asked, naively. The detective picked it up, raised it to the light. It caught some of the sun rays and cast off reflecting bright light.
"That's an expensive diamond, right there. You’ve never seen a diamond before?" he asked again. Moses shook his head, silent. He had no use for expensive jewels - or any jewels for that matter. True to the Amish culture, he and Sarah had never even exchanged wedding rings, for rings were not allowed in their shared beliefs.
"That’s certainly interesting because we found it in your tool shed," the detective said. Moses' eyes widened. What was going on? Who was trying to set him up? This couldn’t be happening. His breathing suddenly intensified. He grabbed his chest. Was he having a panic attack? His health had always been solid, but at that moment, an intense pain hit him right in the center of his body as if he had been thrown off a horse and hit the ground hard. The room started to spin, a darkness seemed to be slowly creeping in, and he struggled to catch his breath.
"You okay there, fella?" the detective asked, he stood up and bent over Moses. Moses nodded, still gripping his chest tightly. A few deep breaths and he was starting to pull himself out of the spell he found himself under.
"Good. Alright, we are done for the day. I’m gonna take you back to the holding cell so you can get some rest and see if maybe you can remember anything else you might need to tell me. We’ll pick back up tomorrow...oh, and you can have that phone call I promised," he said, knowing full well that Moses had no one to call since there were no phones in the Amish community.
Moses gripped the table ends firmly. His breath was still returning to normalcy. Unfortunately, his fear wasn't decreasing. All evidence pointed towards him as the suspect. Now he wasn't just a murder suspect; he was also the robbery suspect.
"In the meantime, I'm going to go have a long chat with the lovely Mrs. Fisher and see if she can confirm this as one of her jewels. You know, Moses, it might do you some good to admit to the crimes right now and plead for a lenient sentence," The detective said. He was standing near the door, holding its knob.
"I didn't do it," Moses said with a firmer voice. The detective shrugged.
"Well, then, have it your way," he said. He opened the door and motioned for Moses to stand and walk with him.
The doors of the single cell in the Little Valley police station slammed loudly. Silence soon descended in the room and began to punish Moses. He was left alone with his thoughts and fears. The fear was overwhelming. As he closed his eyes and lay on the cot, his pillow began to collect his silent tears. He was worried about his pregnant wife and his children. What would the community say about him? Momentarily, he was glad his parents were gone. This would kill his poor mother.
He rested his arm across his eyes, bent at the elbow and feeling heavy, soaking up some of the tears before they could run down his cheeks. His whole life looked very different at that moment. ‘What am I going to do?’ thought Moses, his heart temporarily replacing his fear with sadness.
Moses rolled over, dropped to his knees for the second time that day, and began to pray silently as the tears fell one by one onto the gray concrete floor.
CHAPTER SEVEN
JUDE WAS SURPRISED when Detective Stewart asked him to join him for the visit to Mr. Fisher's widow's home. The older detective intimidated him a lot and reminded him too much of what it was like working in LA. His bulky figure, thick accent and the condescending way he spoke were all part of the reasons Jude detested working with him. Stewart was a man who was used to getting things done his own way. He was a typical know-it-all, close-minded, and would never accept that someone else’s work was better than his. Jude wasn’t quite sure why the Nashville PD chose to send him out to investigate Derek’s disappearance instead of someone more reasonable, especially considering the community.
The ride to the widow’s house was silent and tense. It was an old house, recently repainted white, that stood apart from the rest of the town due to its elegance. The grass around the house was trimmed and neat. Brown-eyed susans and orange mums were blooming beautifully in the flowerbeds that sat under the large picture window next to the front porch.
"Well, here we are!" Stewart said, reaching for his cowboy hat that sat in the seat behind Jude. His thick Southern accent instantly made Jude cringe and roll his eyes. On the way to the front door, Jude walked carefully behind Stewart, allowing him to take the lead. Watching the cowboy hat in front of him, he was reminded of a dry joke Derek had made about cowboys. Jude couldn’t recall the punchline, but it was definitely not something he would share with Stewart. This guy had no sense of humor - even for bad jokes - and he wasn’t trying to give him any more reasons to not like him. ‘Derek was an idiot anyway,’ Jude thought, closing the door on that memory.
"I sure hope Mr. Fisher's widow is home. It sure looks dark in there," Detective Stewart continued saying. Jude mumbled a few inaudible words. He was ready for the long day to be over. Thinking back of the day’s events, Stewart’s arrival, discovering Derek’s body, having to arrange for a coroner, and then with Moses’ arrest and the family’s visit, Jude desperately wanted to be sitting on his couch with a shot of whiskey in hand, calling it a day.
The detective banged on the door loudly, interrupting Jude's thoughts. Jude stepped away from the door. Nothing moved inside. The detective wiped the dust off a spot on the window and peered into the house.
"It's so dark in there. I’m not sure she’s home," he stated, without turning to look at Jude.
"I saw her this morning heading out of the grocery store. I am almost a hundred percent sure that she would be home right now. Mr. F
isher’s widow, Nancy, only ventures out in the mornings unless it's important," Jude responded. The detective turned to look at him. Curiosity furrowed the brows on his forehead.
"And how, boy, might you be so sure of that?" he asked, his eyes twinkled with mischief implying that Jude might have a personal relationship with the old woman past friendship. Jude was disgusted that he would even suggest it and refrained from reaching out and punching him in the mouth.
"Nancy is a kind woman. Sometimes, I stop by to check on her and see how she's doing. Without a child or close relatives to care for her, she could get lonely or might need something," Jude replied, obstinately.
"Well, aren't you the Good Samaritan," The detective said dismissively and returned to banging on the door. He took about half a second to relish in the fact that he had gotten a rise out of Jude. The deputy drove the detective crazy with his goody-two-shoes demeanor all the time. He couldn’t stand fellow men of the law that were pushovers and people pleasers - nor did he feel like he could trust them one hundred percent.
Just as the two men were about to leave, there was a shuffling sound from the other side of the door. The door was pulled open slowly. Nancy's sleepy face peered out. Her hair was blowing out of the prayer kapp she had hurriedly slapped on her head. Stewart could see that time had bleached her hair white, and the hair around her temples was thinning.
"Who's there?" she asked, seemingly confused and a bit disoriented. Her face was puffy with sleep, and her eyes were slightly red. Detective Stewart cleared his throat. She looked at him and instinctively tightened her grip on the door, pushing it closed about an inch. Unfamiliarity registering on her face as she looked him up and down in one quick glance, taking in his plaid shirt, blue jeans and cowboy getup.
Jude noticed the confusion right away and stepped up. Nancy smiled at Jude.
"Good morning, Nancy. I am terribly sorry to interrupt your afternoon nap, but we do need to talk to you. Do you mind if we come in?" Jude said. All inhibitions gone, Nancy threw the door wide open.
"I hope everything is alright. These are troubling times in Little Valley," she said. The house was shrouded in deep darkness. Nancy shuffled to the windows and pushed the drapes wide open. Light flooded the living room. Pity instantaneously filled Jude's heart. Her house was covered in thick layers of dust. A once white silk magnolia flower in a glass vase, now dingy in color, sat on the coffee table sending a fine powder into the air around it as Mrs. Fisher’s dress brushed up against it.
"Please sit down," she said. The plastic used to protect the couches from wear crackled loudly as the men sat down.
"Would you like anything? Water, tea, or coffee?" Nancy asked. Detective Stewart lifted his hand as if to wave the suggestion away.
"No, Mrs. Fisher. We are perfectly fine. This is not a social call. We will be out of your hair as soon as you answer our questions. Please sit down," the detective said. Nancy glanced suspiciously at Jude for reassurance. Jude gestured to the chair. She sat down hesitantly.
"Mrs. Fisher, I'm detective Stewart. I'm sure you must have heard that the county’s sheriff, Derek McCall, was found dead today. I know that news travels fast out here," he started. Nancy's face crumpled in fear.
"Oh, yes, it was all everyone talked about in the store. In a small town like this, such news is big and terrifying. I've lived in this town for almost ten years now and I've never seen anything like this before. I never really liked Sheriff McCall but to think that someone could kill him so gruesomely and that the murderer is living amongst us is terrifying. I mean, who could he kill next? Me?" Nancy's nervousness was evident in her chatter. Jude could sense Stewart's impatience simmering inside him. The man lacked people skills. He was almost like Derek. Odd that he had never put that together before.
"Right, Mrs. Fisher, but we are actually here in connection with your stolen jewels. I understand that you were among the first victims when the robberies started. Could you tell me everything you remember from the incident?" Detective Stewart said.
Nancy cleared her throat. She took a moment to reflect. Her voice was brighter when she started speaking. Jude noticed the dark age spots on her hands. Freckles scattered across her cheeks. Wrinkles left deepened lines all over her face. He was amazed at how quickly she had aged just since her husband had passed away. He was instantly reminded of how his grandmother looked just months after they found his grandfather dead in his favorite big comfortable chair. Jude shook off the memories and returned his focus to the business at hand.
"Well, first, I am glad that the robbers didn't come at night or when I was around in the house. I would have died from a heart attack. They came while I was away, at the grocery store. When I got back from the store, I saw that the kitchen window was open. Someone had pried it open. Their shoes left dirty footprints on my house floors.
I was so terrified. I wished my sweet husband was still with me. If he were around, they wouldn't have dared robbed me.
I didn't need someone to tell me what had been stolen from me. I hoped they wouldn't find it, but they did. My entire jewelry box was empty. Everything inside it was gone. It felt like such a violation at the time, but eventually I was glad that burden had been lifted from me. I wasn't supposed to own those jewels, but I could never fully let go of them because they were handed down from so many generations on my mother’s side of the family," Nancy said. She wrung her fingers nervously.
"What jewels did you have in the box?” Stewart asked directly.
“I had cut diamonds. The diamonds weren’t set into rings or necklaces, which I always thought was strange... to just possess diamonds that you can’t wear and show off to your friends. They were beautiful to look at, though. Shiny and just breathtakingly beautiful. Stephen, my husband, saw no harm in keeping them - in spite of his beliefs - because I couldn’t wear them.”
“So, you didn't see the robbers? Not even a glimpse?" Stewart asked. His voice was strained with the teensiest bit of disappointment.
"Nope. Not a glimpse. They were long gone by the time I got back. Detective, I do think they must have studied my routine for weeks. A few days before the robbery happened, I had this nagging feeling that I was being watched. It was really unsettling. Sometimes, I thought I could see a light from a parked car - or maybe it was a buggy lantern - in the far distance. It wasn't close enough to my house to tell for sure, or to get any details. You may think that this is the silly words of a deranged old woman, but I can assure you it isn't. I firmly believe the robbers cased the place to figure out when the house would be empty," she said. Jude swallowed back a smile from the widow’s use of the slang phrase and made a note in his pad while Detective Stewart appeared disinterested.
"Is there anything else you can tell us about the figures or faces of the people watching you?" Jude asked tenderly. The detective shot him a deathly glare that said: I'm in charge here. I ask the questions. Jude lowered his face apologetically, and he instantly hated himself for that reaction.
"Oh no. Well, for one thing, buggies aren't exactly unique. Most people in town own one and they all look the same. Including dear Moses. By the way, I do not believe that Moses killed that man. There’s no way. Moses doesn't have it in him," Nancy said. The detective didn't respond to that. Instead, he reached into his pockets and pulled out the envelope with the diamond. He showed it to Nancy who gasped with recognition.
"Do you think this might be one of your diamonds?" The detective asked. Nancy bobbed her head excitedly. The detective dropped it into her outreached hand, and she touched the beautiful cut stone gingerly.
"I think it must be one from my collection. It looks to be exactly the same size and beauty. Oh, it looks so familiar. I guess I didn’t realize how much I truly did appreciate them. My mother gave them to me - did I tell you that? Oh, how I miss her so much. She never really forgave me for walking away from her and the Catholic church and embracing an Amish life. She was so disappointed when I told her that Stephen and I were moving so far away from
her.
My mother never really understood why I fell in love with Stephen or why I was so willing to forsake everything for him. The truth is that Stephen never demanded me to follow him. I wanted a change, and I wanted a new life with him. Oh, my dear mother - it had nothing to do with her, but she so regretted passing this heirloom to me ...and things were just never the same between us after that.... But I cherished it. It was the last thing she gave me. I wish I could have...." Nancy paused. The disapproving and impatient look that Detective Stewart shot her way made her stop mid-sentence. She glanced at Jude and his kind eyes encouraged her to speak again, but she now was ready for them to leave so she could return to her routine. It was almost time to start cooking dinner.
"I think it is one of my jewels - one of the ones stolen. Were you able to find the others? I had five, you know," she said.
"We found this one by itself in Moses' tool shed this morning. We are still trying to piece together the evidence and the details but as far as we can tell, Moses killed the sheriff and it had something to do with the robberies. So please, if there is anything you can remember to tell us, it would be greatly appreciated," Detective Stewart stood to leave. He adjusted his hat and Jude realized with disdain that he never removed it upon entering the house.
"I'm sorry, detective, but that’s all I know. I've told you everything. Please can I keep this? It's the only thing I have left of my mother," she said. The detective shook his head, reaching out to retrieve it quickly from Nancy’s closing fist.
"No, I’m afraid it's part of circumstantial evidence at the moment. We cannot let you have it just yet," he said, shoving his hand back into his pocket to retrieve the now crumpled envelope. He dropped the jewel back into the envelope and shoved it back into the pockets of his jeans, much to Nancy’s dismay.
“Oh, please do be careful with it then. I’ve always taken such wonderful care whenever I am touching them. It may look and feel like a hard stone, but my mother always warned me that a diamond can break,” said Nancy, looking the detective straight in the face and bracing herself for a not-so-nice response.
