Plain as Day

by Laura Bradford

  Cover

  Plain as Day

  The national bestselling author of A Churn for the Worse returns to the Amish community of Heavenly, Pennsylvania, where shop owner Claire Weatherly must unravel the perplexing ties between a lost piece of jewelry and the disappearance of a cherished author.

  When a mysterious rattling sound confounds the guests at Heavenly’s local inn, Detective Jakob Fisher steps in and cleverly deduces the noise’s source. But the necklace he discovers sparks an even larger mystery when Claire realizes it’s connected to the writing of a popular author who’s vanished and left her fans clamoring for a new book.

  Determined to track down the necklace’s owner, Claire vows to follow the clues wherever they lead—even if it means finding someone who might not want to be found . . .

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Plain as Day

  Laura Bradford

  Copyright © 2018 by Laura Bradford

  Material excerpted from Portrait of a Sister copyright © 2018 by Laura Bradford

  Cover design and illustration by Dar Albert, Wicked Smart Designs

  Published by Beyond the Page at Smashwords

  Beyond the Page Books

  are published by

  Beyond the Page Publishing

  www.beyondthepagepub.com

  ISBN: 978-1-946069-46-7

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this book. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented without the express written permission of both the copyright holder and the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  Contents

  Plain as Day

  Excerpt from Portrait of a Sister

  The Amish Mystery Series

  Books by Laura Bradford

  About the Author

  Plain as Day

  The whoosh of the cushion was a near-perfect match to the whoosh of her breath as Claire Weatherly sank onto the porch swing and fixed her gaze on the Amish countryside in the distance, the peace and tranquility she found there promptly working its magic across every fiber of her thoroughly exhausted being.

  “You look like you could use a cookie, dear.”

  Mustering every ounce of energy she had left, Claire turned and smiled at the sixty-two-year-old woman peering back at her through the screen door with a plate of cookies in one hand and a glass of what looked to be cold cider in the other. “Any chance that cookie might come with a cot and a pillow?”

  “No, but your bed isn’t much more than twenty steps past me.” Diane hooked her thumb in the direction of the staircase. “And I’d make sure to hand you a cookie as you went . . .”

  As tempting as the thought was, Claire instead waved her aunt Diane over to the empty spot beside her on the swing. “No. Come sit. Having you here next to me while I eat one of those cookies will complete the image I’ve been using as my carrot since about ten o’clock this morning.”

  Diane pushed the door open and stepped onto the front porch, her thick-soled shoes making barely a sound as she closed the gap between them. “Was there a problem at the shop today?”

  “The best kind.” Claire thrust her body forward, plucked a still-warm cookie from the plate her aunt held out, and happily bit into the chocolate goodness that was her aunt’s homemade recipe. “In fact, with the exception of a bathroom break for Annie and a phone call that came in for me from Valerie Palermo, Annie and I were helping customers from the moment we opened until the moment we closed.”

  “Oh, Claire, that’s wonderful!” Diane lowered herself onto the cushion beside Claire and set the cookie plate atop her lap. “I saw a few tour buses go by shortly after you left this morning and hoped that would translate to a good sales day.”

  “It translated to a fabulous sales day,” she said, stretching her now-empty hands above her head before letting them fall back to her lap via a second stop at the cookie plate. “But as fabulous as it was, I wasn’t kidding when I mentioned that cot a few minutes ago. I’m spent. Completely and utterly spent.”

  “Then take the night off. I know I’m going to.”

  Claire stopped chewing long enough to laugh. “As if that would ever happen . . .”

  “It is.” Diane held the plate in front of Claire, and when the final cookie was removed, she set it down on the tiny table beside the swing. “The Jergens in room three are going out to eat this evening, and the Thompsons in room four insisted they are full from lunch and are opting to go for a walk instead. Though now that I’m saying that, I don’t think they’ve left yet.”

  Toeing the swing to a stop, Claire stared at her aunt. “Wait. You’re serious? We don’t have to worry about dinner tonight?”

  “That’s right. Unless you count us. But even with that, I’ll take care of—”

  “Soup. Let’s just have soup.” Claire pulled her foot off the ground and let the swing resume its earlier, almost hypnotic pace. “The can opener is electric after all.”

  Diane’s answering laugh gave way to a kiss on Claire’s cheek. “You’re not even quite half my age, dear. You’re supposed to have significantly more energy than I do.”

  “Considering you have more energy than a freshly napped two-year-old, I say that’s an unfair comparison.” Movement out of the corner of her eye sent her attention toward the road and the familiar black sedan making its way up the inn’s driveway. Like clockwork, she felt her lips spread into a smile as she accepted a napkin from Diane and used it to rid her hands of any residual cookie crumbs. “I didn’t know Jakob was stopping by, did you?”

  “Considering you’re here and the workday is over . . .” Diane stopped the swing, plucked the empty cookie plate from the table, and stood. “I think I’ll see about making a proper dinner for the three of us.”

  Claire pulled her attention off the now-parked car and fixed it, instead, on her aunt. “No. Please. Stay. We’ll worry about food later.”

  Before she could protest, Jakob stepped from the car, lifted a pale yellow gift bag into the air in greeting, and then covered the gap between the porch and the parking area with easy strides. “Good evening, ladies.”

  “Good evening, Detective.” Diane followed their guest’s gaze to Claire and grinned. “And just like that, my exhausted niece looks a whole lot less exhausted now.”

  She felt her face flame hot at the truth but she didn’t care. Jakob Fisher made her happy, plain and simple. And the feel of his lips on hers as he bent over the swing just elevated that happiness to a whole different level. “You have no idea how much I needed that,” she whispered as he claimed the vacant spot beside her and draped his arm across the back of the swing.

  “Sure I do. I needed it every bit as much as you did.” Setting the gift bag on the floor at his feet, he turned his face-splitting smile onto Diane. “Hearing you two were free for dinner when I called a little while ago was mus
ic to my ears.”

  Claire crossed her arms and pinned her aunt with a mockingly stern eye. “So you did know he was coming . . .”

  “I did.” Diane perched against the porch railing with the countryside to her back and shook her finger at the once-Amish detective. “And as for you, young man, how many times do I have to tell you that you don’t need an invitation to eat with us and our guests? It’s an open invite, Detective. Always. And you don’t have to bring a gift.”

  Leaning forward, he rescued the bag from the porch floor and returned it to his lap, his words directed at Diane even as his gaze returned to Claire’s. “This is actually for the shower. I was hoping maybe you could give it to Esther for me? After my sister has left, of course.”

  She searched his face for any sign of the pain most would expect from such a statement, but all she saw was hope. “Of course I’ll make sure Esther gets it, though why I have to wait until Martha has left to do so doesn’t make much sense. You’re allowed to buy a gift for your soon-to-be great-niece or -nephew, aren’t you?”

  “It’d just be easier on Esther if you give it to her when she’s alone.” Jakob transferred the bag onto Claire’s lap and then pointed at the pale blue and pale pink tissue paper sticking out of the top. “I got the baby the same picture book I remember Mamm reading to me and Martha. I thought maybe Esther’s baby would enjoy it as much as we did.”

  “Oh, Jakob, I don’t have any doubt Esther will love it. But I think she’d love it even more if you were the one who actually handed it to her, rather than me. Especially if you told her what you just told us . . .” She sensed Diane watching her but purposely avoided direct eye contact. Yes, she knew Esther and Martha weren’t supposed to talk to Jakob after his decision to leave their world post-baptism, but knowing it and being okay with it were two very different things. Diane accepted Jakob’s fate as fact. Claire simply couldn’t no matter how hard she tried. It’s why she was always so glad when Esther, her friend and former employee at Heavenly Treasures, and Esther’s husband, Eli, found ways to work around Jakob’s excommunication. Like inviting Claire to bring a guest to their wedding . . . Like inviting Claire and Jakob over for dessert on the front porch, with everyone’s chairs facing out over the fields . . .

  “Excuse me, Diane?”

  Three sets of eyes flocked to the screen door and the fifty-something man standing just inside the inn’s open front door. Diane, in turn, rose to her feet. “Yes, John . . . did you and Mary change your mind about dinner? Because I can—”

  The man stopped Diane’s offer with a splayed hand and an emphatic shake of his head. “No. We’re still heading out on our walk. I just wanted to let you know that the third drawer in the dresser beside the window is making this funny rattle every time I slide it open or closed. It sounds like something is caught somewhere, but I can’t for the life of me figure out what it is or where it’s coming from. I don’t think it’s a big deal but Mary thought I should let you know, anyway.”

  “Thank you, John. Go on your walk and I’ll see what I can do. Worse comes to worst, maybe Detective Fisher here can help me swap out the dresser with one from another room before you get back.”

  “You don’t need to go to that kind of trouble!”

  “It’s no trouble, John. Here at Sleep Heavenly, I don’t want my guests hearing funny rattles and wasting their relaxation time trying to troubleshoot a problem that is mine to worry about. So go on . . . Enjoy your evening. It’s a beautiful night for a walk.”

  When he disappeared from view, Claire stopped the swing. “The Thompsons are in room four, right?” At Diane’s nod, Claire rose to her feet, gift bag in hand. “If I’m remembering correctly, they’re not the first ones to mention that rattle, right?”

  “It’s been rattling like that since I got it here last winter. But no matter how hard I try, I can’t figure out what’s causing it.”

  “I could stop by Yoder’s at some point tomorrow and ask Samuel if he can stop out here sometime soon and give it a look,” Claire suggested. “Knowing Samuel, I don’t think he’d want one of his dressers making an unexplained rattle.”

  “Yoder made it?” Jakob asked, as he, too, abandoned his spot on the swing.

  Diane retraced her steps back to her chair and the empty cookie plate and carried it back to the door. “He did. When I came across it, he was literally walking in the door with it after having purchased it at an auction or some such thing as that. I took one look at it, asked what it cost, and bought it on the spot. And, despite the unexplained rattle it’s had since day one, I’m still thrilled with my purchase.”

  Jakob swept his hand toward the door. “May I take a look? See if I can figure out the problem?”

  “I can’t ask you to do that, Detective Fisher. You’re here to spend time with my niece, not troubleshoot rattling drawers.”

  “I’m pretty sure I can do both,” he said, grinning. Then, at Claire’s nod, he pulled open the screen door and waited as first Diane, and then Claire, stepped inside. “I have a feeling I know what’s going on, and if I’m right, the source of the rattle will be discovered and eliminated before that plate”—he pointed at Diane’s hand—“is even in the dishwasher. And as far as time with your niece is concerned, I’m hoping she’ll come with me for morale support.”

  Claire laughed. “You need morale support to fix a drawer?” she teased.

  “If it’s coming from you, absolutely.”

  She didn’t need to look at Diane to know the woman was beaming. She could feel it just as surely as she could her own smile. Life here in Heavenly, juxtaposed against her life in New York, was different. She was different. And Jakob was a big reason for that. “Okay, I’ll come. But let me drop your present for Esther off in my room first. That way I’ll know where it is come Saturday.”

  Step by step Claire led the way up the stairs, bypassing room four just long enough to deposit Esther’s baby gift on the desk in her room. “I really wish you’d think about what I said. Because while I’m certain Esther is going to love this book simply because it’s from you, I’m equally certain she’d love it even more if it was you giving it to her, instead of me.”

  “Claire, I can’t keep putting Esther in that position. One of these days, someone is going to see us talking and she and Eli are going to be spoken to by the bishop.”

  She rejoined him in the hallway, shaking her head as she did. “First of all, every encounter you’ve had with Esther and Eli has been their choice. They love you, Jakob.”

  “I know that, Claire,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “And every overture they’ve made and arranged so that I can have a relationship with my niece and her husband has meant the world to me. But that said, I need to look out for them, too.”

  Reaching out, she closed her fingers around his arm and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Just tell me you’ll consider it, please? I can even call you as the others are leaving so that Esther is the only one here when you arrive and—”

  He silenced the rest of her sentence with his lips and then motioned toward the room on the other side of the hall. “Rattle first, talk later.”

  “Promise?”

  “I can’t promise I’ll say what you want me to say, but I promise to hear you out and consider it.”

  “I’ll take it.” She led the way into the room and over to the dresser beside the window, her mind’s eye noting the guests’ suitcases stacked neatly atop one another inside the partially open closet and the cozy mystery novel Diane had leant Mary Thompson atop the freshly made bed. Leaning over, she slid the third drawer from the top open and glanced back at Jakob. “See? That’s the rattle. Sounds like something is moving around in there somewhere, doesn’t it?”

  A knowing look skirted across Jakob’s face as he stepped around her for a closer look at the empty drawer. “Do you think it would be okay if I took the drawer completely out for a few minutes? The light over by the bed is a little better.”

  Claire shrugged. “Sure.
Though I’m thinking the rattle has something to do with the track, don’t you?”

  With careful yet efficient hands, Jakob removed the drawer, gave it a quick rattle-accompanied shake, and then carried it over to the foot of the bed. When he had it situated flat, he reached across the drawer, felt around the back right corner, and pressed. Slowly, he slid his hand in the direction of the window to reveal a shallow compartment previously hidden by what had appeared to be the bottom of the drawer. Inside it, glistening in the last of the day’s waning sunlight, was a silver chain and pendant. “Voilà,” he said, stepping back. “I give you the reason for the so-called mystery rattle.”

  “How . . .” Her question faded away as she stepped in for a closer look. “It’s like you knew that compartment was there.”

  “When Diane said Yoder made it, I kind of figured this”—he nudged his chin in the direction of the necklace—“was behind the noise.”

  She peered up at the handsome detective. “I don’t understand . . .”

  “Some Amish put these hidden compartments in their dressers as a safe place to keep papers or money or whatever. Some do it in other pieces as well.”

  “Oh! Like Ruth keeps some of her things in the bottom of that chest in the back room of Shoo Fly Bake Shoppe . . .” Claire reached inside the drawer and pulled out the pendant, the delicate silver rose nestled against a half-moon backdrop niggling something in her brain. “I feel like I’ve seen this somewhere before.”

  “The necklace?”

  Was it the necklace? She couldn’t say. Instead, she shrugged, placed it inside Jakob’s hand, and then lifted the drawer off the bed. “Maybe I saw one just like it at the mall or in a catalogue or—”