Assaulted Pretzel

by Laura Bradford

Well, that and his wooden roller track…

  In a flash, she was back in her shop, standing next to Benjamin and peering at the display screen on the victim’s camera—the pictorial comings and goings of the man’s last few hours on earth available at the press of a button. One by one she mentally sifted through the pictures they’d seen before narrowing in on one in particular.

  “That package changed everything for Robert.”

  Oh, what she wouldn’t give to be standing in front of that camera once again. For if she were, she’d be zooming in on the image of the rock with the roller track plans on it…

  “And, by the time I went home several hours later, I thought it had changed everything for me, too.”

  Something about Melinda’s words hit pause on Claire’s mental rewind. “Wait a minute. At breakfast that first morning, you said the Amish toy line was essentially your idea, didn’t you?”

  Melinda nodded.

  “But it was really Isaac’s, wasn’t it?”

  “Isaac didn’t send that toy as a way to drum up jobs for the Amish. He sent it as a way to forge a connection I tried to cover with a toy line.” Dropping her knees to the ground, Melinda stared at her running shoes and snorted. “Frankly, it was a brilliant idea—one that, in my opinion, would have had Karble Toys being the talk of every playgroup across the country for the foreseeable future. But once Ann got wind of what we were preparing to do, she started asking questions and Robert let his guilt get the better of him.

  “Then”—Melinda pounded the floor with her fist—“wham-O! I was out as product manager in favor of a woman whose only experience with Karble Toys is the amount of money it generates for her and Robert and which boutique or spa she can spend it in once it does.”

  Claire cupped her head between her hands in a futile effort to follow the woman’s ramblings but it was no use. The question she’d asked about Isaac had yielded the kind of answer that made her head spin. Fast.

  “How ironic that he essentially demoted me back to public relations while he scrambled to cover his tracks, and I’m the one who swooped in and saved his hide in the end,” Melinda mumbled as she flexed each foot. “The only thing I can’t figure out is whether that qualifies as complete stupidity on my part, or sweet justice.”

  She tried to keep up with everything Melinda was saying, but it was hard. There were so many things that just didn’t make sense. But every time she thought to ask about one thing, Melinda moved on to another until the mountain of questions Claire wanted to ask was so high she wasn’t sure where to start.

  Dropping her hands to her side, she took one last look into the Karbles’ room, the sight of the Jumping Jack toy on the floor beneath Robert’s tie helping to assemble her thoughts in a cohesive enough order.

  “You said Isaac sent the toy as a way to make a connection with Robert, right?”

  Again, Melinda nodded.

  “Well, if he wasn’t trying to garner attention for the toys he and Daniel make, what other kind of connection could he possibly have been trying to make?”

  “A powerful one.”

  She watched as Melinda pulled her left knee upward again in order to have better access to her sneaker and its half-tied shoelace, the woman’s peculiar choice of words making little to no sense. “You realize Isaac is Amish, right?”

  Melinda finished tying her shoe and then looked up at Claire. “By nurture, yes. By nature, no.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Isaac is Amish because he was raised Amish, not because he was born Amish.”

  Claire cast about for a way to make sense of Melinda’s distinction but her mind simply couldn’t keep up. “I don’t get what you’re saying.”

  Pushing off the ground, Melinda rose to her feet and addressed Claire as if she were learning disabled and unable to understand the simplest of directions. “Isaac’s mother wasn’t Amish. She was just unmarried, pregnant, alone, and desperate for a fresh start. Her parents, who were long dead, had grown up around the Amish and she remembered the stories they’d told her about them and their quiet, unassuming, private lives—stories that sounded appealing to a woman who felt she had no better choice. So she crafted a story about her husband’s passing in an Amish community in the Midwest and her desire to start fresh in Heavenly with—”

  “With her new baby,” Claire said, completing Melinda’s sentence. “Wow. I wonder if the Amish know this…”

  “They don’t.” Melinda stretched her arms over her head and then bent at the waist, clearly gearing up for an early morning run. “Isaac only recently found out himself by way of a letter his mother left for him to open on his twenty-fourth birthday.”

  “But she’s been gone for something like twenty years,” Claire protested. “Why would she set aside a letter for that long?”

  “Because she was twenty-four when she had him and felt he’d understand her choices better at the same age.” Melinda pulled one arm to her side and twisted her body to the left and then the right. “Though, being twenty-four now myself, I can’t imagine anything that would make me choose to live the way the Amish do. I’d go insane.”

  A swell of loyalty for Esther and Eli and all of her other Amish friends rose to the surface but she stuffed it back down. It was obvious Melinda would be heading out soon and there were too many things Claire still wanted to know about Isaac and Karble Toys. She could defend her friends and their lifestyle at another time.

  “I guess I still don’t understand why all of this would prompt Isaac to send one of his Jumping Jacks to the head of a major toy manufacturer if he wasn’t trying to secure work for himself and his neighbors.”

  Melinda braced her hands against the wall and set about loosening the muscles of her calves. “It’s like I said earlier…the toy was an attempt at making a connection. It was something the two of them had in common.”

  “You mean Isaac and Robert?”

  “Yes. Isaac and his father.”

  She felt her lips part to accommodate the gasp that rose up in her throat and echoed through the hallway. “His father?”

  “Pretty wild, isn’t it?”

  She tried to nod, tried to give some sort of indication she wanted to keep talking, but it was hard. Although she didn’t know Isaac well, news of his make-believe Amish roots was tough to comprehend. He looked like an Amish man, conducted himself like an Amish man, and spoke like an Amish man.

  Then again, he was Amish now. He’d made the choice to be baptized in his late teens. Melinda’s revelation really didn’t change that. Or did it?

  “Did Robert know about Isaac before the package?” Claire finally asked.

  “He had no idea. He was in his early twenties himself when he met Isaac’s mother during a spring break trip from grad school. They enjoyed each other’s company but made the mistake of letting their respective friends pressure them into a situation neither was ready to engage in. As soon as their evening together was over, they knew they’d made a mistake. They parted ways and never saw or spoke to each other ever again.”

  “And then he gets this package and automatically believes Isaac’s claims?”

  Melinda shrugged. “The guy’s Amish. He wasn’t asking for money, wasn’t asking for anything. He just wanted to reach out to a man he’d only just learned about himself. That, plus math, was enough for Robert.”

  “Why did he tell you?”

  “Because I happened to walk by as he was trying to make sense of Isaac’s letter.”

  It was so much to take in and process at one time, but she did her best, storing what she’d learned thus far in the back of her mind and seeking as much additional information as possible. “So if that Jumping Jack was sent only to forge a connection with the father he never knew he had, then how did Robert end up here? In Heavenly? How did the whole Back to Basics toy line come about?”

  Melinda let go of the wall then hooked first her left, and then her right arm behind the back of her head for what Claire suspected was one of the woman’s fina
l stretches. “Once he got over the shock of learning he had an adult son, Robert felt the need to get to know Isaac. He wanted to meet him in person but also knew he wasn’t ready to tell Ann. The whole time he was telling me all of this, I was playing with the Jumping Jack. And it dawned on me that toys have changed a lot these last ten years or so. They’ve become much more passive and aren’t really the kind of things that will hold many memories later in life. Next thing I knew, my wheels started turning, and I threw out the notion of a simple wooden toy line. Robert jumped on it, seeing it as a way to get to know Isaac and maybe even help him out a little.

  “I asked if I could try my hand at product manager and he agreed. Two days later, I got bumped back to my regular public relations gig so that Ann could be more involved in the development of the new line.” Melinda took several deep breaths before continuing, her hushed voice becoming less hushed with each passing word. “Ann. Ann Karble. The woman who shows up at the office twice a week to have lunch with her husband and spends the rest of the time working out, going to spas, and volunteering with all of those organizations that keep full-time homemakers busy and out of their husband’s—and his employees’—hair.”

  She took a moment to absorb everything she was hearing, but it was hard to concentrate on much of anything besides Melinda’s growing restlessness. “And he never told her about Isaac?”

  “Nope.”

  “So how did he explain this sudden desire to make an Amish-inspired toy line?” Claire asked.

  “He told her he’d always been fascinated with the simplicity of Amish life and felt there were enough others like him to warrant the line.” Melinda tapped her finger to her wristwatch and yanked her head toward the staircase, the end to their conversation clearly upon them. But halfway down the hall, the woman doubled back just long enough to toss one last verbal grenade in Claire’s direction. “The real question, though, isn’t what he told her…it’s whether she believed him or not.”

  Chapter 18

  Claire claimed her spot at the long conference table in Al Gussman’s back room and took a moment to smile a greeting at each of her fellow business owners. To her immediate left was Howard Glick, the owner of Glick’s Tools ’n More. Beside him was Al, the proprietor of Gussman’s General Store and the landlord for most of the buildings along Lighted Way. To her immediate right was Ruth Miller, Eli’s twin.

  The opposite side of the table played host to Keith Watson of Heavenly Tours, Sandra Moffit of Tastes of Heaven(ly), and Samuel Yoder of Yoder’s Fine Furniture.

  Al gestured toward the empty chair across from Ruth. “Anyone know if Lapp plans on being here this morning or not?”

  “Daniel is home with Sarah. I am here for the toy shop today.” All heads turned toward the door as Isaac stepped into the room and crossed to the chair Samuel pulled out for him. “I am sorry if I am late. Please continue.”

  “We haven’t started yet, son. Glad you can be here.” Al glanced down briefly at the handwritten agenda in front of him and cleared his throat. “The first couple of weeks of the month seemed to go well around here. The display tables everyone put out in front of their shops on the first two Saturdays seemed to be a nice way to draw folks inside. And, Claire? Those cornstalks you tied to the lampposts with those harvest-colored ribbons were a really nice touch. I saw quite a few tourists using those posts as backdrops for vacation photos.”

  The chorus of agreement that met Al’s words set off a warm flush in Claire’s cheeks. “It was my pleasure.” And it was. Aside from her tasks at Heavenly Treasures, Claire thoroughly enjoyed her work on the one-woman Lighted Way Beautification Committee. The position combined two of her closet loves—seasonal decorating and being outdoors.

  “I can’t wait to see what you do for the Christmas season,” Sandra said from her spot across from Howard. “Whatever you do, though, I’m sure it will be a draw.”

  Heads nodded up and down the table only to stop as Al took control of the agenda once again. “Unfortunately, as you all know, business the past few days hasn’t been so good for any of us. My wife, Deidre, puts that on the fact that most of the festivalgoers have headed home. I suppose there’s a chance she’s right, but my gut tells me it’s what happened at that festival that’s keeping folks away.”

  “My gut is saying the same thing, Al.” Howard scooted his chair back from the table to accommodate the ever-growing belly that made him a shoo-in as Lighted Way’s resident Santa in Claire’s eyes. “It’s like it was when Walter was murdered a couple of months ago. The curiosity mongers come out in droves to see the spot where it happened, and, in doing so, they keep the tourists away.”

  Claire peeked down the table at Isaac to gauge his reaction to the topic at hand but saw nothing to indicate the Amish man was even listening.

  Keith took a gulp of Al’s legendary not-so-great black coffee and grimaced. “Don’t you worry, Heavenly will rebound sooner rather than later. People don’t stay focused on any one thing for long these days. Give it time. Before you know it, there’ll be a scandal in Breeze Point or Haddonville or someplace like that and everyone’ll forget all about that Karble fellow. And if they don’t, I’ll fire off another feature article on one of our shops to the paper. Do that enough, and the good will begin to outweigh the bad.”

  Isaac’s hands dropped to his lap, making Claire’s heart ache for him in the process. To discover twenty-four years into your life that your dad is alive only to have him ripped away a month later seemed unusually cruel.

  Al offered a grudging nod-shrug combination. “I guess there’s something to be said for that line of thinking, Keith, though I wish the one time would have been enough. Can’t help but feel two murders in as many months might start to hurt Heavenly’s reputation.” Turning his focus on Claire, Al nudged his chin toward the end of the table where a chair was normally placed for these meetings. “How’s Diane holding up with everything she’s had to deal with out at Sleep Heavenly? I didn’t get to talk to her when she called to say she wasn’t coming this morning. She alright?”

  Claire pulled her focus from Isaac and fixed it, instead, on Al, the man’s inquiry bringing yet another worry to the foreground of her mind. “Aunt Diane will be okay. She’s still blaming herself for the break-in, and that’s weighing on her more than I’d like to see. But that’s not why she didn’t come today. One of the couples staying with us this week wanted to take her to breakfast in Breeze Point. She’ll be here next month and—”

  “Excuse me, folks, mind if I interrupt for a few moments?” For the second time that morning, all heads turned toward the door. This time, though, it was Jakob, who stood just inside the threshold of the makeshift meeting room Al had set aside in the back of his store.

  Rising to his feet, Al waved Jakob over. “Good morning, Detective Fisher. Welcome. Would you like me to set up a chair for you?”

  Jakob declined but not before taking a moment to note each and every business owner seated at the table. The fact that the smile slipped from his face when he got to Claire wasn’t lost on her. In fact, if she was honest with herself, it hurt. A lot. His odd behavior had come out of nowhere and left her feeling more than a little confused.

  “I just wanted to stop in and assure everyone here that we’re working around the clock to solve Robert Karble’s murder. We know that a crime like this can impact a town on many levels, not the least of which is tourism. But we’ll find our man and we’ll put this mess behind us. You’ve got my word on that.”

  “Then, if all goes well, maybe those of us sitting around this table can stop feeling like our livelihoods are under attack.” Howard took a hearty bite of the powdered donut he’d commandeered from the center of the table upon his arrival. “First, there was Walter’s whole thing, then there was the toy deal that went awry and threatened a few of us at this table, and now…this. Almost makes me think Heavenly got dropped in the middle of a city somewhere.”

  “It could still happen, you know,” Samuel said in the s
trong yet quiet voice that always made everyone stop and listen to the Amish furniture maker. “Just because that man is dead, it does not mean his company will not still make Amish toys.”

  “But without Daniel and Isaac’s plans to use as guides—”

  “Plans, schmans,” Al said, cutting off Keith as he did. “How hard would it be to draw up a set of simple toy plans, make them out of wood, and call them Amish?”

  “It wouldn’t be hard at all,” Howard mused. “They wouldn’t truly be Amish made, but they could certainly be touted as Amish inspired.”

  “Karble Toys will not make Amish line. Robert is dead.”

  Isaac’s mumbled confidence was eventually picked up by Keith. “You know something? Isaac is right. Assuming Karble Toys doesn’t implode without its leader, and they have a public relations genius hidden away who actually knows what they’re doing, the company is going to want to distance themselves from what happened to Karble as soon as possible.”

  “Why do you say that, Keith?” Al liberated a donut from the platter in the center of the table and hoisted it into his mouth.

  “Toys are supposed to be happy. Murder isn’t. The sooner they can push that black mark under the carpet the better. Launching a line of toys that will only serve as a reminder of what happened to the company’s former president would bring what happened back into people’s minds all over again. Someone with little experience in the business might see Karble’s murder as a way to drive business on sympathy. But it wouldn’t be long before they realized their mistake,” Keith explained. “I’m just disappointed I didn’t put two and two together before now.”

  Al lifted his half-eaten donut into the air and nodded at Keith. “And that, ladies and gentlemen of the Lighted Way Business Owners’ Association, is why this guy is our marketing whiz. He thinks much faster and far savvier than the rest of us do.”

  And Al was right. Keith was a smart man. But Isaac had come to the meeting already convinced Karble Toys would abandon its plans for an Amish line in the wake of Robert’s murder.