Assaulted Caramel

by Amanda Flower

  “Hey,” she objected. “It was the best I could come up with under pressure, and you’ll be happy to know I got some information for you.”

  “What?” I said impatiently. I didn’t want Cass to drag this out into one of her long tales. Mira was missing, and I had a feeling we were racing against the clock to find her.

  “Birdie said that Maribel and Emily Esh went on an outing in Emily’s buggy not long after we left the cheese shop. Birdie guessed that the girls went to the Esh farm.”

  “She told you that?” I asked.

  “Hey, I just spent a small fortune on cheese in her shop. I think she would tell me anything in the hope that I would visit her store again. Do you know where the farm is?”

  I nodded. “Let’s go.” I marched in the direction of the rental car.

  When we reached it, Cass opened the passenger side door. “Is it far? Do you think your car will make it?”

  “It’ll be fine,” I said with more confidence than I felt.

  Chapter 35

  The rental car had a much easier time going down the hill from the Amish Door Inn than it had had going up.

  “This contraption has reliable brakes, right?” Cass asked, as she braced her hands against the dashboard.

  I tapped the brakes as we cruised down the hill. “Seems to.”

  “Wow. That makes me feel better. If I die out here, I want my body shipped back to New York. I don’t want to be buried in a cow pasture. I want a civilized, urban burial.” She fell back into her seat.

  “Duly noted.”

  “So how are we going to find the Esh farm?”

  “When I first met Esther, she told me it was out on Barrington Road. My grandparents used to have friends out that way that we visited when I came to town. If it’s anything like I remember, there is just one farm on the road. That must be where the Esh siblings live now.”

  * * *

  After several winding twists and turns, during which Cass grabbed the dashboard as if her life depended on it, I finally found the turnoff for Barrington Road.

  “I should have taken Dramamine,” Cass groaned.

  “It wasn’t that bad.”

  “Tell that to my stomach,” she grumbled.

  A white farmhouse came into view. A few hundred yards behind it was a matching barn that was twice the size of the house. Plain dresses and trousers hung from a clothesline tethered between the house and a nearby tree. A single horse and buggy sat beside the barn, pointing in the direction of the road as if the owner had positioned them that way so that they could leave the farm at a moment’s notice.

  “What’s the plan?” Cass asked. “Are you just going to knock on the door and ask for Mira?”

  I pulled the car into the driveway and shrugged. “I could,” I said. “Or we could just talk to Mira directly.” I pointed to a porch swing on the wide front porch where Mira sat between Maribel and Emily. The three girls sat in a row with their shoulders touching—two Amish and one English.

  As we got out of the car, I said, “Let me do the talking.”

  Cass put a hand to her chest in mock offense. “What? You don’t trust me to speak?”

  “Not in this situation. Sarcasm isn’t going to work with these girls.”

  “There is always room for sarcasm.”

  Emily jumped off the swing, which sent the two remaining girls flying backward. The Amish girl ran down the steps of the porch, her black sneakers making a squeaking sound as she moved. “Is everything okay? Is Nutmeg all right? Is he safe? My brother doesn’t know that you have him, does he?”

  “Nutmeg is fine. He seems to like it at my grandparents’ shop and has made himself right at home.”

  She gave a huge sigh of relief. “I was just so worried when I saw you. I told Abel that I gave the cat away, but I don’t think he would like it if he knew I gave Nutmeg to you.”

  “Why?” Cass asked.

  Emily stared at the tops of her shoes. “Because he doesn’t want to hear about anything that makes me happy. It is my punishment.”

  “Punishment for what?” I asked.

  Instead of answering, she asked, “If it’s not about Nutmeg, why are you here?”

  “They are here about me.” A soft voice floated down from the porch.

  I hadn’t even noticed that Mira had stood up. She did it quietly and gracefully, the opposite from how Emily had moved.

  I nodded. “We were looking for Mira.”

  Maribel came to stand at Mira’s side and grasped her hand in a show of support.

  “I’m not going back.” Mira held her chin up high and spoke with certainty. “The wedding is canceled. I’m not going to change my mind.”

  “We aren’t asking you to change your mind,” I said. “I’m actually glad that wedding is off.”

  Mira’s mouth fell open. “You are?”

  I nodded. “It was clear to me that you weren’t happy.”

  Tears pooled in her eyes. “I wasn’t. I’m still not, but I might be in the future. If you don’t want to take me back, why did you come here?” Mira asked, barely above a whisper.

  “We heard that you had gone missing, and we were worried about you.”

  “Why?” Mira asked. “I don’t know you.”

  Emily ran to her friend. “Mira, Bailey is just trying to be nice. Remember, she took Nutmeg when I needed to find him a home. She’s trying to help.”

  “You see the gut in everyone, Emily. That’s what gets you into trouble most often,” Maribel said.

  Emily folded her hands in front of her apron and looked down.

  “Don’t fight,” Mira pleaded. “I can’t handle any more fighting, not today.” She looked at me. “And I didn’t go missing. Jace knew where I was. I told him where I was going before I left.”

  “Jace and his friends went off somewhere. No one is sure where they are either, but we were more worried about you,” Cass said.

  Mira frowned. “Who are you?”

  I stepped forward. “This is my friend Cass.”

  “I met her and Bailey at the grocery store yesterday,” Emily said, seemingly recovered from Maribel’s dig at her.

  “Cass helped me with wedding desserts last night,” I said. “She’s a chocolatier like I am.”

  Mira winced. “I’m sorry you had to make all of those desserts for nothing. I really am.”

  “It wasn’t for nothing,” I said. “My grandparents can reopen their shop tomorrow, and we can sell the chocolates there.”

  She nodded. “I’m glad. I’m glad something good might come out of this mess.”

  “Why did you agree to marry Jace in the first place?”

  Tears gathered in her large brown eyes. “It was what my mother wanted. Tyson, Jace’s father, was the wealthiest man in the county. My family is one of the oldest and best connected. She thought it was a good match. It made sense—everyone agreed on that. We had been put on this path since we were children. My mother orchestrated it so that we were always together. I didn’t know anything else. I never considered any other possibility.”

  “Sounds like an arranged marriage,” Cass whispered in my ear. “Are you sure she’s not Amish too?”

  I didn’t bother to tell Cass that the Amish don’t arrange marriages. I’d share that fact with her later, at a more opportune time. “But if you didn’t love him . . .” I trailed off.

  “I did love him, at least to start. Jace and I started dating in high school and continued through college. We graduated in May. It seemed that marriage was the logical next step, but by the time we became engaged, I knew his true nature. He was as greedy and self-serving as his father. I knew that and accepted his proposal anyway, because marrying Jace would be a way to get away from my mother. That must sound terrible to you.”

  “We’ve met your mother, so not really,” Cass said.

  I shot her a look, which she of course ignored. If she had been closer I would have stepped on her foot, but she knew to keep a distance now.

  “I kn
ow this situation is as much my fault as it is Jace’s and my mother’s. I let this go too far, and now it’s out of hand. I would have gone forward with the wedding if Tyson hadn’t died. It was his death that convinced me I had to call it off. For all his success and wealth, he was a very unhappy man, and he died an unhappy man. I could see the same for my future. Before I die, I want to at least say I knew some happiness. Even so, I might never have left the wedding party if it hadn’t been for Emily and Maribel’s support.”

  Maribel squeezed her friend’s hand.

  A black Hummer roared up the road, pulled into the Eshes’ driveway, and stopped just inches from the bumper of my rental. Jace tumbled out of the passenger side with an open beer bottle held loosely in his hand. He stumbled forward.

  “Oh no,” Mira whispered.

  The two Amish young women flanked her on either side. I didn’t know what two Amish girls could do to stand up to a very drunk Jace Colton, but if I had anything to say about it, Jace wasn’t getting close enough to them to find out.

  Another man close to Jace’s age got out of the driver’s side, and I was relieved to see that he was sober. At least Jace hadn’t been behind the wheel. That was something to be thankful for.

  “Mira,” Jace slurred as he held up his bottle. “What are you still doing here? Everyone is waiting for us. It’s time to get hitched.”

  Cass wrinkled her nose and whispered to me, “I’d say being a runaway bride was the right choice.”

  “Definitely,” I whispered back.

  He took two halting steps forward. “We have to get married, don’t we? That was the master plan our parents thought up. God bless them.” He spat.

  “Really good thing she didn’t marry him,” Cass hissed.

  I nodded. “Jace, I think you should go home and sober up. Your friend can take you back.”

  His friend kept a distance and made no move to help.

  “Brent isn’t going to take me home until I say so.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Will you, Brent. Just like my father’s pawns, you will do whatever I say, because now that my father is dead, I’m the richest man in the county, and everyone wants a piece.”

  Brent clenched his jaw. I doubted he would be as obedient as Jace expected him to be.

  I tried again. “Jace, Mira has made her decision. You should go home and go to bed. You are going to feel awful in the morning.”

  He took a swig of his beer. “Go home to an empty house because both of my parents are dead? No, thank you, not interested in going there.”

  “I know you must be upset by your father’s death,” I said with as much sympathy as I could muster. “I know you must miss him.”

  “Miss him?” He barked a laugh. “I hated his guts. He’s the reason my mother is dead.”

  “And a new prime suspect presents himself on a silver platter,” Cass whispered in my ear.

  “Jace,” Mira said in her soft voice. “I’m so sorry if I hurt you.”

  He glared at her. “You’re not sorry. You’re as bad as everyone else. You’re no better than my father.”

  Mira jerked back as if he had slapped her across the face with the back of his hand. Her friends closed ranks around her, physically shielding her from his view.

  “You should take her in the house,” Cass advised the other girls.

  They didn’t have to be told twice, and they ushered Mira into the farmhouse.

  “Hey!” Jace cried as the front door slammed closed after them. “You can’t leave me!” He lunged forward.

  “Stop!” I stood in front of Jace and held my hand out in the universal sign for stop.

  He raised his fist and shook it at me. “Get out of my way, or I will make you move.”

  “Jace, come on, man. You can’t hit a woman,” Brent said.

  Jace glared at his friend and then bent at the waist and threw up. I jumped back just in time to miss being hit.

  “Oh gross,” Cass cried.

  I couldn’t agree more.

  Chapter 36

  Brent’s nose wrinkled in disgust. “Dude, don’t puke on your shoes if you think you’re getting back in the car.”

  “It’s my car,” Jace muttered between heaves. “I can puke in there if I want.”

  Cass covered her mouth.

  I held my finger out to her. “Don’t get sick, because if you get sick, I’ll get sick.”

  She turned her back to Jace, pinched her nose, and breathed through her mouth. “I’m trying.”

  When Jace was done, he stumbled a few feet away and plopped down on the grass as if he didn’t have an ounce of energy left. I knew he didn’t have an ounce of lunch.

  Brent made a gag face. “When Jace asked me to be his best man, I didn’t know it would go down like this.”

  “People seldom do,” Cass said.

  I was relieved to hear her making jokes again. It reduced the likelihood that she would throw up, which, in turn, reduced my own chances.

  Across the yard, Jace groaned and flopped over onto his side like a fish pulled from the sea.

  Cass tilted her head in his direction. “He’s either asleep or dead.”

  “Let’s go with asleep, okay?” I said.

  Cass nodded. “And at least he fell over on his side, so he won’t swallow his tongue.”

  Brent made a face. I was right there with him. “We know about Tyson’s plan to make Harvest into some type of Amish theme park, and we know that Jace expected it to all be his someday. Sounds like a great motive for murder to me,” Cass said.

  Jace struggled to a sitting position. He swayed a little bit but seemed to be holding his own. “I may have wanted to, but I didn’t kill my father.”

  “Who do you suspect killed him? You must have some suspicions.” Cass asked.

  Brent glared at her. “Why would we tell you anything?”

  “Because I’m being framed for Tyson’s murder, and I would like to know by whom. One of you might be able to tell me that,” I replied.

  “I don’t know who killed him.” Jace pressed a hand against his forehead. “Don’t know and don’t care.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Then let me ask you this. How did your father buy up all those properties on Main Street? It seems clear to me the Amish didn’t want to sell to him.”

  “My father can talk anyone into anything. Almost anyone,” he slurred.

  “How did your father convince these people to sell if they didn’t want to? What was his trick?” I pressed.

  He snorted. “What do you think it was? Blackmail and threats. He was a master at both of those. The Amish have as many skeletons in their closets as the rest of us do. Maybe more, because they are ashamed of more things, stupid things.”

  “What kinds of skeletons?” I asked.

  “Don’t know.”

  “But your father kept those secrets in his office, didn’t he? And the day he died you asked someone at his office to destroy the documents.” I eyed Brent. “Maybe he even asked you.”

  Brent’s face turned bright red, and I realized that I had guessed right.

  “How?” He blinked at me, seeming to come out of his alcohol-induced fog.

  “How did I know?” I shrugged.

  He nodded.

  “I have my sources.”

  Cass made a sound beside me, but I refused to look at her. Instead, I zeroed in on Brent. “You were the one who destroyed the blackmail documents, weren’t you? Don’t you know you could go to prison for destroying evidence?”

  “I was just doing my job,” Brent said, as if that made it all okay.

  “Yes,” Jace argued. “Brent works for my father’s company. He had to do what I said, because the moment my father died, I became the owner and boss of the company.”

  Brent’s brow furrowed together, and I wondered how much longer he would be able to stand working for his “friend.”

  I frowned. “Did you look at any of the files?”

  Brent shook his head. “I didn’t want to know what they sai
d. I just shredded them, and took the shredded sheets to the dump before the police showed up.”

  That was a shame. If Brent had looked at the documents before he had destroyed them, and he had been willing to share the information with me, we might have gotten a new lead. My face fell. I had been so close to getting somewhere with this case, and I felt like I was back on square one.

  I turned my attention to Jace. “Why did you ask Brent to do it?”

  He still sat in the same position in the middle of the grass. His legs were spread-eagle out in front of him like a Raggedy Andy doll. “Because I still wanted to go through with the plan, and I didn’t want the police to find the information and spook the Amish out of selling their property to me.”

  “All those documents could have given us a long list of suspects. You might have destroyed the police’s only chance at solving your father’s murder.”

  He snorted. “They’re Amish. Amish don’t kill people.”

  I wasn’t so sure about that. “From what I’ve heard, your precaution backfired. All the Amish who were going to sell to your father aren’t interested in doing business with you.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Maybe not, but I will find something even greater—a bigger, more impressive project. I’ll prove to my father that I can run this business. I don’t need his help. I don’t need anyone’s help.”

  “And your father didn’t trust you with his business. That must have been upsetting,” I said.

  “He didn’t,” he snapped. “He thought I didn’t care. I do. I do care, but not everything in life is about work. My father would deny it, but he had a lot in common with the Amish when it came to his crazy work ethic. He was just like them in that way. What’s so wrong with working hard and playing hard? For my father, it was all about work. All the time. I’d rather have fun.” He blinked at me. “You know, I’m glad the wedding is off. I’m too young to get married.”

  “Did your father threaten the Amish himself?”

  Jace doubled up in laughter but righted himself before he fell over “Never. Dad hired muscle to do that. He wouldn’t get his hands dirty. That wasn’t his way.”