Assaulted Pretzel

by Laura Bradford

  She mulled over everything Esther said and came up with yet another set of questions. “But you said he sold part of his farm, didn’t you? That means he could return to the land to earn his way if he needed to, right?”

  Esther’s head was shaking before Claire had even finished speaking, the reason for the rather simple motion chilling. “Farmland is becoming hard to come by for the Amish. There is not enough land for everyone to farm. It is why so many make money in other ways now. The bigger farms can grow more. Mr. Lapp’s farm is no longer big enough to grow multiple crops. Dat thought it was bad for Mr. Lapp to sell, but Mr. Lapp did not ask Dat’s advice.”

  “And if he had no choice but to go back to farming?” Claire asked. “What then?”

  “He would have to move to a different Amish community where there is more land. Dat says there is still land in Wisconsin. Up high in New York, too.” Esther looked down at the toy in her hand and smiled just a little before setting it back on the counter. “But Mr. Lapp would not go. His Mamm and Dat are too old to move. It is his place to stay and take care of them.”

  There was no doubt Claire still had much to learn about the Amish and their beliefs, but one thing she did know was that their elders didn’t go into nursing homes or retirement communities the way their English counterparts so often did. Instead, they turned their farms over to their youngest son and his family and then lived out the rest of their days in a smaller house on the same farm, helping with the daily work until they were no longer able-bodied enough to do so.

  She reached into her pocket a second time, the desire to pull the note out and examine it on the spot more than a little difficult to resist. But she had to. At least for now. There would be time and opportunity to study the figures more closely when she got home that night. If it pointed to a motive for murder like she was beginning to suspect, she’d decide what to do at that time.

  Unfortunately, if there was any real basis for the knot of fear now sitting in her chest, doing the right thing would come with a hefty dose of guilt. Especially if it had a pregnant woman’s husband trading his suspendered attire for the equally simple prison stripes.

  * * *

  Despite spending a fair chunk of her day away from the shop, the five o’clock closing time still couldn’t come soon enough for Claire. All afternoon she’d done her best to stay busy, making lists of needed inventory, assisting customers alongside Esther, and answering the countless Amish-related questions posed by virtually every tourist who came through the door.

  “You are glad for this day to be over, yes?” Esther looked up from the register where she was transferring the day’s earnings to a yellow envelope and offered Claire a sympathetic smile. “Sometimes I have a day like that, too. But mostly I am just so glad to be here, working with you.”

  Claire blinked against the threat of tears ushered in by Esther’s words and willed herself to end the workday on a positive, upbeat note. She owed her friend that much, especially if she was going to be the one to ultimately set off a powder keg of shame throughout the Amish community.

  “I’m sorry, Esther, I really am. Last night was just a really rough night on top of another really rough night and I guess I’m a little more sleep deprived than I realized.” She forced her lips into what she hoped was a believable enough smile then took the envelope of money from Esther’s outstretched hand. “I’ll be better tomorrow. I promise.”

  It was a promise she probably had no business making in light of the day’s revelations, but the need for a burst of optimism momentarily won out over a potential reality she was struggling to embrace.

  “Then I look forward to tomorrow. I have missed your smile today.” Esther came out from behind the counter only to return long enough to retrieve her little sister’s new toy from its resting spot beside the register. “You helped me when I was afraid for Eli many weeks ago. If you let me, Claire, I can help you.”

  She stared down at the envelope in her hands as a dozen different replies rushed her thoughts. But even before she’d fully considered the merits of each one, she knew, deep down inside, that sharing her fears about Daniel with Esther wouldn’t change anything. The only thing it would do was make Esther worry, too.

  No, she needed to figure this out herself. Drawing in a breath of courage, she gave in to the one answer she couldn’t hold back. “The best way you can help me, Esther, is to remain my friend no matter what.”

  “I will always be your friend, Claire. That is an easy thing for me to do.”

  A lump rose in Claire’s throat making it difficult to speak. Instead, she simply squeezed Esther’s hand and prayed the young woman’s words were true.

  Chapter 15

  She inserted the key into the back door of Sleep Heavenly and pushed, the momentary relief she felt at being home quickly wiped away by a deafening silence. Glancing at her wrist, she noted the time, her heart beginning to thud at the confirmation she hadn’t really needed.

  It was nearly six o’clock.

  Dinner was served to the guests promptly at six forty-five each and every evening.

  Which meant Diane should be moving about the kitchen preparing dinner the way she had been doing since Claire first came to Heavenly eight months earlier.

  Yet no matter how many times Claire turned her ear toward the doorway on the other end of the service entrance, she heard nothing. Not a footstep, not a clank of a pot, not a clink of ice against a water glass. Just complete and utter silence.

  Slowly, she made her way through the vestibule and into the kitchen, the absence of any life merely visual proof for what her ears had already determined. Closer inspection of her surroundings yielded a dozen homemade pot pies waiting on a counter beside an already preheated oven.

  A quick scan of the handwritten recipe card beside the hefty portions allowed Claire to place them in the oven and set the timer. With that done, she continued her search into the dining room, the carefully set table smoothing her worries a smidge.

  Whatever had come up to veer Diane from her usual tasks had come up fairly recently. Perhaps a guest had needed a new towel? Or maybe a remote in one of the rooms needed a fresh pair of batteries?

  Still, she continued from room to room on the first floor of the inn, her need to verify her aunt’s well-being driving her feet forward. A faint click off to her left caught her attention and she turned in that direction, the soothing sounds of Diane’s voice greeting her footfalls halfway down the hall.

  “Thank heavens, I’ve been looking all over for you, Aunt Diane…” The words vanished from her lips as she stopped in front of the now-open door and caught her first glimpse of Ann Karble since the woman’s arrival at the inn.

  That Ann Karble had been vibrant, poised, and confident, her clothes and her shoes a dead giveaway to the money her husband earned as owner and president of one of the country’s largest toy manufacturers. This Ann Karble was but a shell of her former self. The eyes that had been so expertly and tastefully made up at arrival were now puffy and red-rimmed. The cheeks that had sported such a healthy glow were now ghastly white. The body that had hinted at the exercise regimen that had the woman running before dawn only days earlier now appeared fatigued.

  Diane grabbed hold of Claire’s hand and tugged her inside the room, the door clicking shut behind them. “Oh, Claire. I’m so glad you’re here. I’ve got to see to dinner before the guests come down to an empty table and uncooked pot pies. But—”

  She pulled her gaze from Ann’s distraught face and fixed it, instead, on her aunt. “I put them in the oven about five minutes ago. They’ll be ready at just the right time.”

  A hasty kiss on her cheek let her know she’d made the right call even before the whispered follow-up commenced. “Thank you, dear. But I need to see to the bread and the drinks, too. Would you mind sitting in here with Ann for a little while? She could use the company.” Lowering her voice still further, Diane yanked her head toward the woman on the bed. “I’m growing worried about her an
d I’d feel better if I knew you were in here with her while I get things finished up in the kitchen.”

  “Uh, sure. I can do that.” But even as she said it, she was well aware of her desire to run the other way. Her day had been wearisome enough all on its own. Trying to come up with ways to cheer up a mourning woman wasn’t exactly how she’d envisioned her evening.

  Still, as Diane disappeared into the hallway, Claire perched awkwardly on the edge of the bed and offered the victim’s wife what she hoped was a friendly yet respectful smile. “Mrs. Karble? I’m so very sorry about your husband. I truly am. If there’s anything I can do, please don’t hesitate to—”

  “Business was so good,” Ann said in a voice that was both haunting and broken. “We were rolling out plenty of new toys for the holiday season. I don’t know why we had to come here.”

  Claire hooked her knee upward onto the bed and turned to afford a better view of the brunette, the woman’s words not meshing with the argument that had woken everyone from their sleep the night before the murder. “But you knew about the Amish line…”

  Ann’s eyes closed momentarily only to reopen and look at Claire. “Of course I knew about the new line. I knew about everything that happened at Karble Toys. It was my company, not Robert’s.”

  Her foot dropped back to the ground. “Your company? B-but…how? I thought it was your husband’s.”

  A part laugh, part strangled cry emerged from Ann’s throat. “Because that’s what we told people. Even our employees didn’t know. Still don’t, though that’ll change soon enough.”

  She tried to make sense of what she was hearing but remained silent when she couldn’t.

  “It was my gift to Robert—the love of my life,” Ann continued in a raspy whisper.

  “You gave him a company?”

  Ann nodded. “My father owned a tiny toy shop when I was a little girl. He made toys in the back room and sold them up front. That store was called Karble’s Creations.”

  “But Karble was your husband’s name,” Claire protested.

  “No, Karble was my name,” Ann corrected, weakly. “But since I was my father’s only child, there was no one to carry on his name. So when I became serious with Robert, my father was in the process of laying out a new business plan—one that had his little shop springboarding into something much bigger. When he became ill and was faced with the little bit of time he had left, Robert agreed to take my name in marriage and realize my father’s dream. I kept a presence over the years, of course, as a nod to my father and his friends who helped finance us at the start, but the day-to-day decisions were really for my husband to make.”

  “Wow. He did an amazing job.” It was a simple statement but true, nonetheless. In fact, if Ann’s details were as accurate as she was sure they were, the details of Karble Toys’ rise to fame were nothing short of inspiring.

  “Yes, yes he did.”

  Claire pondered everything she’d heard thus far and then asked the first question that sprang into her thoughts. “Did you ever wish you could’ve gotten some of the public accolades your husband got along the way?”

  A comfortable silence hovered between them as Ann slipped into thought. After several moments, though, Ann finally answered, the sincerity in her voice magnifying Claire’s empathy for the woman tenfold.

  “Honestly, I got such tremendous enjoyment out of watching Robert succeed that it never really crossed my mind. I was so in love with him from the first moment we met that I wanted nothing but the best for him and for our lives together.” Ann began to fidget with a string on the comforter as she took a momentary pause. “Our life together was almost perfect.”

  “Almost?”

  “I was never able to give him a child.” A long, labored sigh made its way between Ann’s trembling lips along with yet another round of heartbreaking words. “Oh, how I wanted to. More than anything, in fact. But it wasn’t to be. And now…I’m alone. Completely and utterly alone.”

  Bowing her head forward, Ann began to cry, the movement of her shoulders sending a gentle bounce across the bed. Claire scooted closer and silenced the fidgeting hand with one of her own. Suddenly, this woman who’d been a veritable stranger to Claire just moments earlier could just as easily have been any one of a dozen or so friends she’d had throughout her life—people who’d touched her heart and created a lasting connection.

  “I know it feels like that right now. But you will always carry a part of your husband in your heart,” she said between soothing noises. “No one can ever take that away from you.”

  One sniffle was followed by another and still another, but, eventually, Ann’s shoulders began to steady. “I…I know that. I…I just know I’m going to miss looking into his eyes every morning.” Working her sleeve over her hand, the woman wiped at the tears that continued to stream down her face, her words coming between little bursts of calm. “They were the most brilliant green I’ve ever seen. Every time I looked at them, I felt at peace. And I always knew I wanted our child to have those same eyes.”

  Claire tried to think of something to say but came up empty. Instead, she simply draped her arm across Ann’s shoulders and pulled her in for a quick side embrace.

  “Now they’re gone and the only reason they’re gone is because we came here. To Amish country. To enter into a partnership Rob never should’ve considered, let alone try to ink. I mean, when he first told me about his idea over coffee one night, I could see the appeal. Parents and grandparents like the idea of sharing a simpler time with their kids. But, in the long run, all the kids really want is to play with whatever the latest and greatest is at any given moment. Is that sad? Maybe. But it’s reality and any businessman worth his salt knows the bottom line is rooted in reality.” Slowly but surely, the tears dried, the mounting disbelief in Ann’s voice now mirrored in her eyes. “But all Robert could see was that silly little toy he kept messing with all the time. And no matter what I said to try and get through to him, he just didn’t seem to get it.”

  The words streamed from Ann’s mouth now as disbelief became tinged with anger. “Wooden toys? He wanted to make wooden toys? So make wooden toys! You don’t need the Amish to do that. And a man who made the kind of millions Robert did over the past twenty years was smart enough to know that.”

  Her tirade over, Ann’s shoulders lurched forward in utter exhaustion. “I just don’t get it,” she whispered. “I mean, why? Why did he go down this road? Because nothing—no desire for simplicity, no harebrained idea, no stupid little toy—was worth losing the love of my life.”

  Once again, Claire was left with nothing to say because Ann had said it all.

  Chapter 16

  If Claire closed her eyes and concentrated solely on the faint sounds coming from the windows around her, she could almost pretend all was well. How else could one explain the happy chatter coming from Doug and Kayla Jones as they perused the literary offerings in the parlor? How else could one explain the noises from Room One that suggested Wayne and Virginia Granderson were preparing to retire for the evening once their teeth were brushed and a suitable program had been found on their in-room television?

  Yet even as she rested her head against the back of the porch swing and did her best to let its gentle sway calm her, she knew things weren’t at all as they sounded.

  Ann Karble’s room, on the other end of the porch, was pitch-black, the absence of anything resembling life on the other side of the closed curtain a testament to the deep depression that had kept the woman from eating dinner and engaging in any further conversation.

  Upstairs, hidden away behind the one unnumbered room in the inn, was Diane, a woman whose smile had stopped short of her eyes ever since the Karbles’ room had been ransacked. No matter what Claire tried to tell her, no matter how often Jakob relinquished her from all responsibility, Aunt Diane was still convinced she bore the ultimate blame for the crime.

  Down the road in Amish country, things weren’t okay for Sarah Lapp, either. And while
Claire couldn’t be sure what the expectant mother was doing at that moment, she knew it was being done with a heavy heart. How could it not be when you were afraid your husband was involved in a murder?

  Not far from that farmhouse was the one where Martha lived. Like Sarah, Martha was also concerned for Daniel Lapp. But Martha’s fear didn’t stop there. It ran one step further—to her younger brother. In turn, that stress had led to a decision that—if discovered—could result in disciplinary measures from the Amish community.

  She stared out at the darkness just beyond the porch railing and tried to focus on the parts of her day that had been good. But try as she might, there were simply too many thoughts and too many worries moving through her head to get any real peace out of Esther’s smile or the brief alone-time she’d shared with Jakob at the pond.

  People she cared about were hurting. Some, terribly. How could she truly expect the sights and sounds of a near-sleeping Heavenly to wield its usual sleep-inducing magic?

  In two words, she couldn’t.

  But, sooner or later, she’d have to sleep. If she didn’t she’d be useless at the shop, the inn, and to any of her friends who might need her help. The problem, though, was finding the energy to stop the swing, stand on her feet, and head upstairs to her room.

  The clip-clop of an approaching horse, however, had her glancing at her wrist and turning it so as to read the time in the muted glow of the porch light.

  Ten forty-five…

  Much too late for someone from the Amish community to be out and about, that was for sure.

  Bracing her foot against the floor, Claire brought the swing to a stop, the outline of the now-parked buggy alongside the inn setting her nerves on edge. Something was wrong. It had to be…