Assaulted Pretzel

by Laura Bradford

  “So sorry to disappoint, Melinda.”

  The slight snap in Ann’s voice earned more than a few passing glances in her direction, including one from both Diane and Claire that subsequently ended with them looking at each other.

  Yanking her chair back from the table, Melinda slid into it and pulled her napkin onto her lap. “I’ve been working on the formal press release that should go out to the media as well as our shareholders tomorrow morning. The time for damage control is now.”

  The timid smile that had graced the widow’s face prior to Melinda’s arrival disappeared in a cloud of anger. “Don’t you think your damage control is coming a little too late, Melinda? After all, my husband is dead. No press release is going to change that.”

  Melinda speared a piece of cucumber onto her fork only to let it go uneaten as she braced both hands on the edge of the table instead. “I’m not trying to change anything, Ann. I’m just trying to keep the company Robert built afloat. Talking about this company as his dream, and the toys it makes as his legacy, will keep the focus where we want and need it to be for our continued success.”

  “I repeat, don’t you think your damage control is coming a little too late, Melinda? Because if you’re doing your job the way it should be done, there shouldn’t be any damage to control.”

  Melinda’s long lashes mingled above narrowed eyes. “Excuse me?”

  “This stew is especially good when it’s warm,” Diane offered in her cheery voice. “And the bread is wonderful for soaking up the leftover gravy base.”

  Wayne reached for a piece of homemade bread, dipped it into his bowl, and took a bite, his eyes nearly rolling back in his head as he did. “Mmmm. Diane is right. This is really, really good.” He waved at the couple to his left. “Doug? Kayla? Give it a try.”

  Before they could echo the man’s attempt at diverting the brewing argument between Ann and Melinda, Ann smacked her hand on the table. “There would be no need for damage control, Melinda, if there was no death. And there would be no death if you hadn’t come up with the idea of an Amish toy line—an Amish toy line that brought us here…to the place where he was murdered!”

  Claire tightened her grip on the serving bowl and tried to think of something to say, but there was nothing. The venom in Ann’s voice, coupled with the bitterness behind her words, brought a hush to the room.

  “My suggestion is not what brought him here,” Melinda hissed.

  Warning bells sounded in Claire’s head. If the argument continued, Melinda was going to divulge the kind of news no woman wanted to hear in front of a tableful of strangers.

  “Perhaps we should table this discussion until—”

  “Oh no? It was your idea to make an Amish line, wasn’t it?” Ann challenged before casting an exasperated glance in Doug’s direction. “An Amish toy line, can you believe that?”

  Melinda leaned her face across the table. “An Amish toy line—pitched to the purchasing public as a way to acquaint kids with the kind of simpler toys their grandparents played with—was a genius idea, Ann. Genius. The problem came when Robert gave my idea to you. You, Ann—the woman who couldn’t find her way around a toy store without a personal shopper if your life depended on it!”

  Pulling her focus from Melinda, Ann fixed it, instead, on Claire. “Should I tell her?”

  Claire swallowed.

  “Tell me what?” Melinda challenged.

  “Maybe now isn’t the time,” Claire mumbled. “Maybe the two of you should talk…after dinner.”

  But it didn’t matter. Ann was already on a roll and she wasn’t about to wait. “Not only can I find my way around a toy store, Melinda, I could give you and everyone else at Karble Toys a crash course.”

  Melinda’s laugh echoed across the room. “Please. You expect me to believe that?”

  “I don’t care if you do or not. But the fact remains that Karble Toys is my company, Melinda. I allowed Robert to run it because I loved him. That said, I knew the ins and outs of every decision that was made in every meeting he ever had. Did I make them all? Or course not. I trusted Robert. Though, between the two of us, I never would have hired you for that job even if you were brought in at half the salary of your predecessor. You get what you pay for as far as personnel are concerned.”

  “D-did you say half?” Melinda croaked.

  “Actually, if I remember correctly, you came in at a little less than half, but who’s counting? It was still more than I would have paid.” Ann scooted her chair back a few inches and then tossed her napkin onto the table. The anger she’d exhibited only seconds earlier was suddenly gone, in its place a resurgence of grief. “Diane, I’m so sorry for—”

  “Assuming what you say is true, Ann, how does it make you feel to know that you stepped in on a project that meant the world to Robert only to mess it up?”

  “Mess it up?”

  “He wanted those toys to be made here. In Heavenly. By the Amish. It mattered to him more than any other business decision he’d ever made. He gave these people his word and you—in all your supposed business experience—made his word mean nothing.” Melinda’s attempt at a rapid departure from the table landed her chair against the wall with a thud. “Live with that, Ann. Live…with…that!”

  * * *

  For the second time that week, Claire found herself sitting on the edge of Ann’s bed, trying desperately to find just the right words to soothe away a hurt she could only imagine. It was one thing to lose your husband in such an unexpected way as murder; it was quite another to forgive yourself for any angst experienced by the victim prior to the crime.

  “Do you think she was right?” Ann asked in a halting voice. “Do you really think my decision to produce the Back to Basics line in-house hurt Robert the way she said?”

  Oh, how she wished she could refute Melinda’s statement, chalking it up to the woman’s youthful ignorance. But she couldn’t.

  Not with everything she knew about Robert and Isaac.

  Still, she had to say something to ease the widow’s pain. “Did you love him?” she finally asked.

  Ann peeked up at Claire through tear-dappled lashes. “Robert? Of course I did. He was the love of my life.”

  “Did you tell him that?”

  “Every day.”

  “Then take comfort in that.” She tugged the soft fleece blanket up higher on Ann’s shoulders and hoped the added warmth would make a dent in the woman’s near-constant shivering.

  “It’s hard. Even before Melinda said what she said, I’d replayed our last argument again and again.”

  Claire pushed off the top edge of the bed and wandered over to the window that overlooked the inn’s extensive and tastefully landscaped backyard. “Ann? Can I ask why you were so adamant the new toy line be manufactured in-house?”

  “Cost. Convenience. Liability. All of it.” Ann struggled up onto her elbow as she continued. “Robert was at the Grand Rapids plant twice a month checking in on everything. The people on the line up there know what Karble Toys is looking for in terms of quality and durability. The Amish don’t.”

  She turned from the window. “Have you ever seen an Amish-made toy, Ann? There is no better quality or durability.”

  Dropping back down to the bed, Ann closed her eyes and moaned. “That’s exactly what Robert said. Like he was suddenly an expert on all things Amish.”

  Unsure of what to say, she, instead, said nothing. She was on a slippery slope as it was. If she continued down the current path, she was likely to stir up Ann’s guilt once again. And that wasn’t Claire’s intention.

  “But even if they’re the most durable toys on the face of the earth, there’s no way the Amish could do it as cheaply as we could in a factory. And no matter how you dress it up, Karble Toys is a company. We are in business to make money.”

  “It must have been hard, though, for your husband to sign his name to that last memo if he was so passionate about the Amish crafting the new line.” The second the words were out,
she wished she could recall them. But it was too late.

  Ann sat up and swung her legs over the edge of her bed. “He didn’t sign it, Claire. I did.”

  She stared at the back of the woman’s head as she worked to make sense of what she was hearing. “I saw the memo, Ann. Or, rather, a copy of it, I should say. Either way, his signature was at the bottom of it.”

  “His signature, yes. But he’s not the one who signed it, Claire. I did.” Drawing the blanket around her body like a cape, Ann sighed. “I showed him numbers, I explained my reasons, but he still wouldn’t sign. It was like everything he’d learned since taking the helm of the company had just disappeared in a cloud of…I don’t know. I just don’t get what he was thinking. Or what was driving him to make the choices he was making.”

  There was a part of Claire that wanted to blurt out the obvious answer, but to do so would mean ripping all remaining ground out from under Ann’s feet. That, she couldn’t do.

  “Part of me wonders if there was something going on between him and that little diva down the hall from his office—”

  “Diva?”

  Ann bobbed her head ever so slightly. “From the moment Melinda strutted herself in for that first interview, I knew Robert would be pressured to hire her by the single men in the office. But Robert loved me. I saw it in his eyes every day. A person can’t fake that.”

  No, they can’t. Not for long, anyway.

  Closing her eyes against the image of Peter, Claire willed herself to focus on the here and now. “Tell me about his eyes,” she finally managed to say.

  The underlying tone of sadness that had lapped at every word the woman uttered all evening disappeared in favor of a wistful quality that had Claire blinking back tears. “Robert had the most beautiful emerald green eyes I’ve ever seen. So many things pulled me in when we first met—his laugh, his easygoing personality, his intelligence, et cetera. But it was his eyes…and the way they sparkled liked gems when he smiled…that I’ll never forget.” In an instant, the sadness was back along with the teeth-clattering shivers. “I…I can’t imagine living the rest of my life never being able to look into those eyes again.”

  Chapter 26

  Claire’s head was pounding by the time she stepped out of Ann’s room and headed toward the parlor where she knew Diane would be waiting. So many times over the past thirty minutes, she’d contemplated telling the widow about Isaac, but every time she opened her mouth to do so, the little voice inside her head she equated with good judgment would tell her to keep quiet.

  Besides, it wasn’t her secret to tell. It was Robert’s.

  And Isaac’s…

  Step by step, she made her way down the hallway, Diane’s hushed voice interspersed with that of a male, propelling her feet forward and into the cozy sitting room.

  “Oh…” She stopped just inside the doorway at the sight of the tastefully dressed man sitting on the couch beside her aunt. “Jakob. I didn’t know you were here.”

  “He just arrived. To see you.” Diane’s smile dimmed momentarily in conjunction with a gestured hand toward the hallway. “How is she, dear?”

  Caught between uncertainty over Jakob’s presence and exhaustion in the wake of her talk with Ann, she opted to slump against the wall rather than join them on the couch. “She’s hurting as much as ever. Only now, she’s second-guessing things she said and did as well as Robert’s true motivations behind the Amish-inspired line.”

  Diane tsked softly under her breath. “I imagine that’s one of the hardest parts of an unexpected death. All those should-haves and could-haves.” Pushing off the couch, Diane rested a brief hand on Jakob’s shoulder then came around the back of the couch to dispense a good-night kiss on Claire’s forehead. “I’m going to head upstairs to bed. The Grandersons are heading out first thing in the morning and I want to make sure they have a hearty breakfast before they leave.”

  “Good night, Diane.” Jakob met Claire’s eyes across the couch and then patted the empty cushion vacated by her aunt. “Come sit? Please?”

  She left the comfort of the wall but stopped short of accepting his offer. “I don’t want to sit. I feel like I’ve been cooped up for too long thinking about way too many things.”

  He nudged his chin toward the front window. “We could sit outside on the porch, but that’s still sitting…”

  “Make it a walk and we’re good.” At his nod, she met him midway across the room and headed out the opposite doorway from which she’d entered.

  They made their way onto the front porch and then down the steps onto the sidewalk below. “Do you want to walk toward town?” he asked when they reached the driveway. “Or do you want to go the opposite way?”

  Normally, she’d say toward town without so much as a moment’s hesitation. But things weren’t normal. In fact, the notion of walking in the direction of the Amish only served to reignite the pounding behind her eyes. “Let’s save town for another night…when an occasional buggy sighting can fill me with peace like it usually does.”

  “And tonight is different?”

  “It is.” She knew she was being vague, but she couldn’t help it. So much of what was nagging at her heart and mind had to do with Jakob.

  “Why?”

  It was a simple question, one she should have been able to shrug away, but she couldn’t. Not when he raked his hand through his already-disheveled crop of blond hair and followed it with an encouraging and dimple-accompanied smile. “There’s just a lot going on right now. That’s all.”

  “Such as…”

  Realizing resistance was futile, she chose the less personal of the two conversational options. “A couple of days ago, I actually thought I knew who killed Robert Karble. I didn’t like who it was but I thought I’d figured it out. He had motive, he had as good an opportunity as anyone else at that festival, and, well, it just made sense.”

  Jakob lengthened his already long stride in order to keep up with Claire. “Who was that?”

  “Daniel Lapp.” Even now, with everything she knew about all of her other suspects, it still pained her to say the Amish toy maker’s name aloud. “He stood to lose huge with Robert’s—I mean Ann’s decision to move the production line to Michigan.

  “But then I talked to Melinda and I—” She stopped in the middle of the sidewalk as the enormity of what she was about to say, and who she was about to say it to, hit her with a one-two punch. Isaac was Jakob’s brother. It was up to Isaac to tell Jakob about his connection with the murder victim, not Claire.

  “You, what?” When she didn’t answer, he took hold of her hand and repeated his inquiry.

  The warmth she felt at his touch made her stumble back a little, reminding her of the other discussion they needed to have. “I…I began to see that she has her own motive for wanting to see her boss dead.”

  Nice save…

  She felt the intensity of his eyes but refused to meet them with her own. Despite having known each other for just over two months, Jakob had a knack for reading her thoughts that made her more than a little uncomfortable.

  If he suspected she was holding something back, though, he didn’t comment. Instead, he took to her quick shift like a duck to water. “Wouldn’t killing Robert put her job in jeopardy if the company folds as a result?”

  “Karble Toys isn’t going anywhere. But, even if it was, the eyes of the corporate world are on the company right now. Waiting to see how they handle this tragedy. If Melinda plays her cards right, her handling of the press could be her ticket into any number of companies. And really big ones, at that.”

  With nary a word necessary, Claire and Jakob resumed their walk, the sound of their own footsteps over the next two blocks standing in for their conversation. Eventually, though, Jakob spoke, his voice every bit as strong as it was quiet. “I’ve been looking at the same two suspects myself, as well as a few others.”

  Again, she stopped. “Others?”

  A streetlamp midway down the next block cast just en
ough light on Jakob’s face for Claire to see the worry etched in the lines around his mouth and to the side of his eyes. And in that moment, she knew.

  Somehow, Jakob had found out about Isaac.

  But how? Had Isaac told him or—

  “I owe you an apology, Claire.”

  “An apology?” She looked up at him, confused. “For what?”

  “For being a jerk at the meeting yesterday. For dismissing you so quickly at the pond before that. It was wrong. Though, I’m not sure how I can do it any other way.”

  Just like that, Jakob took them down a path she knew they needed to go, yet she was unprepared for the journey. “Do what? Have a relationship with Martha? Because if that’s what all of this is, you have to know I’ve wanted nothing else for the two of you since I was made aware of your ties.”

  He shifted from foot to foot then put one hand to her lower back and pointed with the other. “Can we go sit over there? In the park?”

  She followed his eyes to the neighborhood park that was less than a block away. There, the handful of swings that gently swayed in the late-evening breeze offered a sense of calm she desperately needed. Nodding, she allowed him to silently guide her to an empty picnic table tucked under a tree less than ten feet from the swing set. “I know you’ve been wanting me to have a relationship with my sister. You’ve made no bones about that these past couple of months and it’s meant the world to me. It really has.”

  Slowly, she lowered herself to the closest bench and waited for him to continue, the rising lump in her throat making it difficult to speak.

  “But what you have to know is that talking to me—for any reason—could get my sister shunned not only within the Amish community but inside her own home…in front of and by her own children.” Jakob cupped his hand over his mouth only to let it slide down his chin to complete his thought. “My leaving after baptism caused Martha enough pain. I can’t cause her any more.”

  “And you think I want to see her shunned?” She heard the disbelief in her voice, saw the way it only served to deepen the lines around the detective’s eyes. “Tell me you don’t really believe that, Jakob. Because you can’t.”