by Marta Perry
Rachel, twelve, shot a resentful look at Emma, obviously thinking she had reminded him that they were still at the table. But they both went out quietly, saving any argument until they were out of earshot of their father.
“Ach, it’s a sad thing for sure, the poor old man dying alone that way,” Mamm said. “But there was nothing you could have done to make things any different, Sarah, so you must not fret. It was God’s will.”
God’s will—the answer Sarah had been trained to accept since birth. But in this case, maybe it was also someone else’s will. A cold hand seemed to grip her neck. If what she’d noticed meant anything, it might be that someone else was responsible for Mr. Strickland’s fall.
She backed away from that thought quickly. It couldn’t be. She was imagining things for sure. She’d tell her worries to Leo Frost, as Jacob had suggested, and then she could forget about them.
“Now that you will not be working for Mr. Strickland any longer, I am thinking you could help us keep the books in the shop. And help your mamm, too.”
Sarah eyed her father’s weathered face, creased with lines of sun and toil and smiling, his brown beard streaked now with gray. She knew exactly what he was thinking—that it was time his eldest daughter stopped working in town and started working on getting married. On that subject, as on so many others, he and Mamm thought as one.
“You know I am always glad to help, Daad.” She meant the words, but perhaps not in the way he wished. She could see a battle ahead.
Jacob moved slightly, craning to look out the window. “A car is coming up the lane. Mr. Frost, I think.”
Jacob was right, and in a few minutes the lawyer was seated at the kitchen table, a slice of Mamm’s apple crumble pie and a steaming mug of coffee in front of him.
Leo Frost, white-haired and bright-eyed, was officially semiretired, but he still dealt with some of his old clients, like Richard Strickland. He was a favorite among the Plain People of the township, always ready to give advice and help on the rare occasions when they had to deal with the Englische law.
“Wonderful pie, Elizabeth. This was just what I needed after such a trying day.” His smile included all of them, but he studied Sarah especially, as if judging how much she had been affected by what had happened.
“We are sorry for the loss you have suffered.” Daad, naturally, spoke for the family. With Leo present, the conversation had switched from Pennsylvania Dutch to English, something they did so naturally it was almost automatic.
“Yes, well, there are only a few of us close enough to Richard to feel a sense of loss—primarily Sarah and me, I suppose. Richard had outlived most of his family and friends.” The lawyer shook his head. “Truthfully, he was such a difficult personality that he didn’t have many friends. He was fortunate to have Sarah to look after him.” He smiled at her, and she discovered that her answering smile was a bit wobbly.
“I was wondering what will happen next,” Jacob said, asking the question she wanted answered. “With the police involved and all.”
“That shouldn’t cause too much delay in settling the estate, I hope,” Leo said, frowning a little, as if not used to having clients die in a way that involved the police. “However, everything in the house will have to be inventoried before I can get on with disposing of the property according to his will.”
Daad nodded, but Sarah suspected he felt the prospect foreign. Elderly Amish people often made disposition of their belongings before they passed, and they seldom had enough to warrant an inventory.
“Actually, that’s one reason I wanted to come and see Sarah.” He smiled at her. “I was hoping she would agree to continue working for a time—long enough to help me inventory the items in the house and get it ready for transfer. According to Richard’s wishes, it’s going to the historical society. But sorting and packing is a big job, and she’s the person who knows the most about the place.”
Mamm glanced at Daad, looking dismayed. Clearly, she had expected Sarah’s job to end promptly with Mr. Strickland’s death.
“I don’t know….” For once, Daad seemed at a loss. “We had hoped…had thought that her job was over now. How long would it take, this inventory?”
“It’s hard to say,” Leo replied. “Goodness knows, that house is filled with stuff, some of it outright junk, some of it quite valuable. I would think at least a couple of weeks. Naturally, Sarah will be paid for as long as it takes.”
Daad was frowning again, and Sarah gripped her skirt with both hands to keep from bursting into speech. She wasn’t ready to give up her independence yet, and Mr. Frost’s offer would provide her with an opportunity to look around for another place. More importantly, it would give her a chance to talk to him about what she’d noticed, something she could hardly do in front of her parents.
“I don’t know that I like our Sarah being alone in that house all day.” Daad seemed on the verge of refusal.
“I would be in and out several times a day,” Leo said quickly.
“I could drive Sarah to work and check the house every morning, if you want,” Jacob offered. “Then go back and bring her home.”
Daad wavered, obviously trusting Jacob’s good common sense.
“I’d be most grateful,” Leo said. “I don’t know how I’d do it without Sarah’s help.”
Putting it on to the basis of a need for help pushed Daad the rest of the way. He nodded. “Ja, I suppose it is all right. If Sarah wants.”
She could feel their gazes on her, and tried not to let any trace of her thoughts show in her face.
“Ja, for sure I will be glad to help.”
Although she had to admit that a little shiver of apprehension snaked down her back at the thought of being alone in the house where Mr. Strickland had died.
* * *
BY THE TIME SARAH REACHED the Strickland house the next morning, she was embarrassed to remember her fears. The place looked the same as always, a fine old Victorian that was said to have once been the grandest residence in town. And while Mr. Strickland’s death was sad, it was in the nature of things. She’d almost managed to reason away the inconsistencies that had bothered her the previous day. Almost, but not quite.
Jacob, who had kept his promise to drive her to the house, jumped down easily from his seat beside her, tying the horse to the fence.
“You don’t have to come in with me.” She got down and unlatched the gate, holding it. “I know you were just trying to reassure Daad so he wouldn’t be upset about my coming.”
Jacob pushed the gate the rest of the way open and walked through. “You might fool your daad, but you can’t fool me, so don’t bother to try.” He held the gate for her. “When you were talking so calm about coming back here, you felt scared.”
“Did not,” she said instantly, an echo of their childhood.
Jacob grinned. “Did, too.”
Giving in, she went up the walk. “Well, maybe I felt a little funny, is all. Especially since…” She stopped, not wanting to finish the thought.
“Especially since you saw things you thought were wrong about Mr. Strickland’s death.” Jacob waited while she opened the door.
“I’ve decided I was being foolish,” she said firmly. She took her bonnet off and put it on the usual hook, followed by her sweater, and smoothed her apron down and her hair back under her kapp. Then, satisfied she looked as she should, Sarah turned to Jacob. “It’s like you said. There could be explanations for all the things I saw that w
ere out of the ordinary. And if I told the police, they’d laugh.”
“Chief Byler would never laugh at you. He’s not that kind of man.” Jacob followed her into the kitchen. “But maybe it’s best if you forget the whole thing, anyway. No sense stirring up trouble.”
Sarah flared up at that. “You’re the one who suggested I talk to Leo Frost. Remember?”
“Ja.” Jacob grasped the back of a kitchen chair. “But I don’t want you to get into trouble.”
His strong hands nearly covered the top slat. Funny how she so easily forgot that they were both grown up already. But that was all the more reason why Jacob should stop treating her like a little child. Just because he was partners with Daad now in the machine shop, that didn’t mean he was the boss.
“I won’t get into trouble,” she said firmly. “And you don’t need to go looking around the house, either. Mr. Strickland wouldn’t have liked it, and you can see everything is okay.”
Jacob studied her face for a moment, as if trying to read any fear there. Then he shrugged. “I will just walk through the downstairs, ja? Then I can tell your daad all was quiet.”
Not waiting for permission, he walked toward the front of the house. She could hear his footsteps on the hall floor, and that made her picture the hall the way she’d seen it when she’d walked in yesterday.
She wrenched her mind away from that image. She would go in later, when she was by herself, without Jacob watching her to see any betraying signs of fear.
He was back in a moment. “Everything is okay. I’d best get to the shop. See you at the usual time?”
“Ja. Danki, Jacob.”
He went out, taking his solid, reassuring presence away, and the house felt empty and unwelcoming when the door shut behind him.
Sarah busied herself washing up the coffee cups the officers had used the previous day. Leo Frost would probably come soon, and she didn’t want him finding dirty dishes in the sink.
Should she tell him the things that worried her? He hadn’t seemed to notice anything, any more than the police did.
Her mind seesawed back and forth. If she told him…
She stopped, a cup poised above the dish drainer. Had she heard something…some sound that shouldn’t be there? Old houses made noises, but after all this time, she was used to the sounds this house made. That had sounded like a step.
It came again, clearer this time. From the front hallway. Sarah put the cup down very carefully. She could tiptoe to the door and be out before anyone realized she was here. Couldn’t she?
Ach, she was letting this business make her ferhoodled. It would be Leo Frost, for sure. He’d said he’d be here this morning, and he had a key. What would he think if he found her huddled in the kitchen, afraid to move?
She tossed the dish towel onto the drainer and hurried through to the front hall. Someone grabbed her arm in a hard grasp. She gasped in shock and drew in breath to scream before she realized who it was.
“Hey, hang on, Sarah. Where are you going in such a hurry?” Hank Mitchell, Mr. Strickland’s distant cousin, grinned down at her, his easygoing face relaxed.
“Hank. What are you doing here? I thought it was Mr. Frost.” She took a step back, putting some space between them, and his hands dropped to his sides at once.
“I was upstairs, looking for you. I didn’t have a chance to talk to you yesterday.” The smile slid from his face. “Just wanted to say how sorry I am. I wish I’d come to the house before I left for class yesterday. Then I’d have found him instead of you.”
Hank must have left earlier than usual for the classes he took at the school in Lancaster. “It couldn’t be helped,” she said. “No matter who found him.”
“Still, it must have been a shock. Are you okay?”
“Fine.” She forced a smile, wishing they weren’t having this conversation at the bottom of the staircase. “You must have heard Jacob and me when we came in the house just now. Why didn’t you speak to us then?”
Hank shrugged. “I get the impression your friend Jacob doesn’t exactly approve of me.”
“I’m sure he doesn’t…well, he doesn’t know you.” It was hard to reply to that comment without lying, because she had the distinct impression Hank was right about Jacob’s attitude.
“Yeah.” He grinned. “Hey, did you say Mr. Frost was coming over?”
She nodded. “I expect him soon, if you’d like to speak to him.”
“No need. I’ll catch him later.” Hank was already headed for the door. “I’m just glad Frost is going to be with you. If Jacob isn’t here on time, maybe you’ll let me drive you home.”
He was gone before she could say that Jacob was always on time. She paused, frowning at the stairs and barely seeing them. Hank had known that Jacob was coming back for her. They’d been speaking Englische when they came in the house—she because that was what she always spoke here, and Jacob because he’d naturally answer her in the same tongue.
So Hank had heard them. Had he also heard her saying that she thought something was wrong about Mr. Strickland’s death?
CHAPTER THREE
JACOB ARRIVED EARLY to pick Sarah up for her ride home. Even knowing she wouldn’t be ready yet, he’d been restless, having trouble concentrating on the work at the machine shop. His thoughts returned again and again to her list of oddities about Mr. Strickland’s death.
All of them were things that could be easily dismissed, for sure. But Sarah was bothered, and so he was.
He slid down from the high buggy seat. Since Mr. Strickland’s house had no place to stable a horse for the day, someone always had to bring Sarah back and forth. This time, he was especially glad he was the one to do so.
Hank Mitchell was clipping a hedge behind the house, a ball cap pushed back on his curly brown hair, his tight jeans riding low on his hips. The Englischer was friendly enough, Jacob supposed. Not his fault that Jacob was tired of hearing his name on Sarah’s lips.
When no one came in answer to his tapping, Jacob opened the side door. “Sarah? Wo bist du?” Where are you?
Steps sounded on the narrow back stairway that led from the kitchen to the second floor, and she appeared, frowning a little.
“You are early, ain’t so?” She glanced at the clock.
“We finished up that reaper we were rebuilding, so your daad said I should leave. Maybe see if you needed any help.”
Sarah’s shoulders lifted, her nose wrinkling. “I don’t even have enough to do myself. Leo Frost was supposed to come this morning, but then he called to say he was busy and would stop by later. He still hasn’t, so I was chust tidying up.”
The frown was still there, and Jacob sensed it didn’t have anything to do with either his early arrival or Frost’s late one. “Something is wrong, ja?” He hung his straw hat on the knob of the ladder-back chair, prepared to wait as long as needed.
Sarah’s lips pressed together, and for a moment he thought she wouldn’t answer. Then she nodded. “Things are not where they should be.”
“Things? What things?” She should know he would keep asking until he had a better answer than that one.
“Things,” she said, waving her hands as if to take in the whole house. “You know how Mr. Strickland had all these little decorations around, like his seashells from when he went to the ocean as a boy, and the teapots his mamm collected.”
Jacob nodded. The Englischer’s house had always seemed cluttered to him, with gimcracks on every table, but
Sarah said they gave the man pleasure. “Are they gone?”
His thoughts went immediately to theft. If a thief had gotten into the house, that would explain why Mr. Strickland had tried to come down the stairs that night.
“Not missing, no.” Sarah’s frown deepened. “Just moved. Rearranged, some of them, like someone had looked at them and put them back in the wrong place.”
“Ach, Sarah, Mr. Strickland probably did it himself. Or you did, when you were cleaning.” Relief washed through him. Not a thief lurking around the house, then.
“Jacob Mast, you know perfectly well I would put everything back where it belonged. That’s the first thing I learned, working for Mr. Strickland. Everything must be in place.”
“Maybe he did—” He tried to go on, but Sarah spoke over him.
“It was because of his bad eyes, you see. He might pick a piece up, hold it in his hands as if it comforted him. Even lift it a few inches from his eyes to see it better. But always each piece went back exactly where it belonged, so he could find it the next time.”
That made sense, Jacob supposed, but it still didn’t mean Mr. Strickland couldn’t have changed his habits for some reason. But since Sarah was already annoyed with him, maybe it wasn’t best to point that out.
“I see Mr. Frost coming up the walk now,” he said instead, grateful for the interruption. “You should tell him.”
But Leo Frost, once he was settled at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee, didn’t seem to take Sarah’s revelations that seriously. She told him everything, including what she’d noticed the day before. He nodded, patted her hand and promised to discuss it with Chief Byler.
Surprisingly, he paid more heed when Sarah mentioned that Hank Mitchell had been in the house that morning. But no more than Jacob himself did. He’d known he should have checked the entire place, and he’d let Sarah persuade him not to. He wouldn’t make that mistake again.
Leo Frost’s blue eyes turned cold. “I suppose Richard gave him a key, but I’ll have to get it back from him. I don’t like the idea of just anyone being able to get in. Richard Strickland had a lot of worthless junk, but he also owned some very valuable antiques.”
