A Plain Malice: An Appleseed Creek Mystery (Appleseed Creek Mystery Series Book 4)

by Amanda Flower

  As Timothy and I were about to leave, my cell phone rang. I check the readout and frowned.

  “Who is it?” he asked. “Greta?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t recognize the area code.” I placed the phone to my ear. “Hello?”

  “Where are you?” A sharp male voice asked.

  I unlocked the Beetle with my key fob. “Who’s this?”

  “It’s Hudson,” he snapped in my ear. “Who do you think it is?”

  Timothy watched me closely.

  “I’m on my way home,” I said.

  “Home? Who said you could go home? Dinner is about to begin and the guests are waiting for you.”

  “Waiting for me?” I squeaked.

  “Yes, they are waiting for you to host the dinner conversation.”

  “Dinner conversation?”

  “Part of Blue Suede Tour’s full service includes dinner conversation about the sights the group saw that day. Dudley even had a slide show on his laptop for most of the stops. The police took his computer. You will have to make do without it.”

  I opened my car door and sat with my legs facing out of the car. “Hudson, I’m not giving a talk tonight.”

  “You have to. It’s part of the tour. Have you ever seen these people complain about not getting what they paid for?”

  “If it’s so important, why don’t you do it?”

  “I can’t do that. I drive the bus,” he said. “This is a full service tour. You need to be on the ground to assist the guests with whatever they might need.”

  I didn’t like the sound of that. “What does ‘everything they might need’ mean?”

  I heard him grit his teeth. “If they have an emergency in the middle of the night, you need to be there.”

  “Hudson, do you think I am spending the night at the Dutch Inn?”

  Timothy’s scowl deepened.

  More teeth grinding. “It’s part of your job.”

  “Hudson, this isn’t really my job at all.”

  “This isn’t optional.”

  “Give them my cell number to call me if there is a problem in the middle of the night.”

  “That’s not good enough,” he snapped.

  “Then hire someone to do it.”

  “If you don’t do this, I will have no choice but to cancel the tour and take all these people home,” he threatened.

  Did Hudson know I agreed to be on the tour to protect the Troyers? I bit my lip. “I’ll be there in an hour.”

  “They are ready to eat now.”

  “If you expect me to spend the night, I need to go home and grab my toothbrush.”

  He grumbled something I didn’t catch.

  “Tell them because of what happened this morning, dinner will be less formal.”

  “Fine, but you had better be here by dessert.”

  I hung up the cell without saying good-bye.

  Timothy stared at me. “What just happened?”

  I stared at the phone in my hand. “I’m spending the night at the Dutch Inn.”

  His eyes widened. “Why?”

  I told him what Hudson said about Blue Suede Tours full service.

  Timothy put his hand on the roof of my Beetle. “That ogre of a bus driver can’t tell you to do it.”

  I chuckled as I swung my legs into the car.

  He shut the door after me and leaned inside through the open window. “What’s so funny?”

  “I never thought I’d hear you say ogre.”

  Some of his frustration melted away. “I have seen the Lord of the Rings since I left home. Apparently, there is something called the Smurfs that I need to see too.”

  I smiled. “You do.”

  His expression grew serious again. “I don’t think you should do it.”

  “I can’t give these people an excuse to leave Knox County. The moment they’re gone your father becomes the focus again.” The image of Officer Riley carrying the plant samples struck me.

  Timothy stepped back from the car. “If you are spending the night at the Dutch Inn, so am I.”

  There was nothing I could say to change his mind.

  Chapter Thirteen

  I pulled into the short driveway of the small, mid-twentieth century colonial I shared with Becky. The house sat across the street from Harshberger’s campus. A tiny guard house stood in the middle of the road leading onto campus.

  This was my third home since I moved to Appleseed Creek eight months ago. If I had it my way, it would be my last. I was tired of moving.

  Becky’s bicycle lay on its side in the middle of postage stamp yard. I would have to talk to her about that again. Our landlord, a sweet elderly lady who lived a block away, was very particular about how the grass should be treated. She did not approve of Becky’s tire tracks back and forth across the lawn. Seeing how she was the most stable landlord I’d had in Appleseed Creek, I didn’t want her to kick Becky and me out over a bicycle.

  I moved the bike to the side of the garage as Timothy parked his truck behind my Beetle. He stepped out of the truck while I wondered how I would talk him out of staying at the inn. I opened my mouth.

  He shook his head. “I know what you’re going to say, but it won’t work. If you’re staying at the Dutch Inn, then I am too.”

  “Okay,” I said.

  He narrowed his eyes. “Okay?”

  I nodded. “Okay. You can stay at the inn too.”

  He stood toe to toe to me and studied my face. “That’s quite agreeable of you.”

  “I’m an agreeable girl.”

  “Since when?” He chuckled and followed me to the front door.

  The front door opened into the living room. Becky, wearing jeans and a Harshberger T-shirt, lay in front of the television on top of her favorite dog pillow, which she still didn’t realize was a dog pillow despite “Woof” stitched on the side of it. At this point, I saw no harm in keeping that knowledge to myself.

  As always, Food Network was on the TV. It was the only station Becky watched. I had never met anyone with such a love of cooking programs.

  My Siamese cat, Gigabyte, strolled over to me and wove in and around my legs. He meowed at a pitch and decibel level, which only a true Siamese could hit.

  “Don’t let him fool you.” Becky glanced over her shoulder. “I just gave him a snack.”

  I dropped my purse on the couch and picked up the cat. He nuzzled my chin. “Becky, what did I tell you about giving Gig snacks? Remember what the vet said. We have to watch what he eats.”

  Gig’s tummy had begun to hang low with extra weight since we’d moved to Appleseed Creek. As if he understood my words, the feline hissed and fought to escape my arms, and I hadn’t even said the “D” word. “Diet.” I let him go.

  She sat up. “He’s hungry. I always gave snacks to the barn cats on the farm and there was never a problem for them.”

  “There is a big difference between a cat living outside on an Amish farm and a pampered house cat with two attendants waiting on his every need.”

  Gig arched his back at me. Clearly, he understood everything I said.

  “The vet doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” Becky rolled off her dog pillow onto the beige carpet. “I thought you would be home before now. You left Young’s a while ago.”

  “We stopped at the farm to check on the family.”

  Becky jumped to her feet. “I thought you were going to go there with me.”

  I had forgotten that I promised to go with Becky to the farm. “I’m sorry, Becky. Timothy took me there to get my car, and now I’m only here to grab an overnight bag.”

  Becky hopped onto the couch. “A bag for what? Where are you going?”

  “I’ll be staying at the Dutch Inn for the next few days.”

  Her brow creased and her expression was so much like Timothy’s when he was confused or concerned, it made me smile. “Why?”

  “It’s where the people from the bus tour are staying. Apparently, bunking with them is part of my job.”<
br />
  “How long will you be gone?”

  “Four nights at most, but I hope I won’t have to stay there every night. I’m going to have to slip away now and again to check in at the office.”

  Becky wrapped her arms around her waist. “How was Daed?”

  I glanced at Timothy. “Why don’t I go pack, and the two of you can talk.”

  I jogged upstairs and threw whatever I could think of into my small suitcase. Jane had said that there was no Wi-Fi in the in the hotel, but I packed my laptop and iPad anyway. If I needed to, I could make my own hotspot with my smartphone. I threw in an extra pair of socks and rolled my suitcase down the stairs. “I hope I didn’t forget anything. I hate packing without a list.”

  Timothy met me halfway down the stairs and took my suitcase. “You should have told me you were finished. I can carry this for you.”

  My stomach fluttered. It hadn’t even occurred to me to ask for help. Most of my life, I did everything on my own.

  Becky sat cross-legged on her dog pillow. “You hate to do anything without a list.”

  That was true.

  Timothy set the suitcase by the couch. “We can stop at my place so I can pack a bag too.”

  “You’re staying at the inn too?” Becky asked.

  Timothy nodded.

  She pulled her knees up under her chin. “Don’t tell Mamm and Daed. They wouldn’t like it if they knew you and Chloe were sleeping in the same place.”

  Timothy scowled at his younger sister. “They should know us well enough to trust us.”

  I felt my cheeks turn bright red. Why did I have to blush so easily?

  “I know that.” Becky’s cheeks flushed too. “But I just wouldn’t tell them; that’s all. I learned not telling them things—even when you haven’t done anything wrong—is the best way to go.”

  I picked Gig up, and he climbed onto my shoulder like a parrot on a pirate. “You couldn’t have kept your hair a secret forever.”

  She turned around to face the television. “I know that.”

  I gave Timothy a half smile. “Go home and grab your stuff. I’ll drive myself to the inn. I don’t want to be without a car again.”

  Timothy kissed me on the cheek and left.

  I perched on the couch close to Becky’s head. “Will you be all right here by yourself for a few days?”

  She offered me an easy smile. I was relieved she wasn’t upset at my comment about her hair.

  Becky sat up. “I’ll be fine. Gigabyte and I will watch all the Food Network we want.”

  I laughed. “You already do.” I scooted a little closer to her. “Did you look at those college applications I printed for you?”

  Becky frowned. “I will.”

  Growing up Amish, Becky’s formal education stopped at the eighth grade. After weeks of studying, she easily passed the GED. Now, she had to decide where she wanted to do with the rest of her life.

  “What’s the point of looking at them now? I don’t have nearly enough money saved up to go to school.”

  “You should have a goal,” I said, sounding like a mother hen, a quality that I hadn’t known I had until I met Becky. Becky turned twenty in January, and I was twenty-four. There was little difference in our ages, but I had twice the life experience, and as an academic I knew how important an education was for Becky’s future. “And if you still don’t have the money when you are ready, you’ll get a loan. I have loans that I’ll be paying back until I’m fifty.”

  “That seems like a strange way to do it.”

  I wasn’t surprised at Becky’s hesitation toward a loan. Most Amish were reluctant to be indebted to someone even to a bank. The Amish lived within their means. “There are many good programs at reasonable costs at the community college level or at state universities. True, you will probably need a loan for these too, but it won’t be nearly as much if you went to a school like Harshberger.”

  She frowned. “Harshberger is the closest.”

  I laughed. “It is across the street, and I would love it if you could go there. However, it’s not realistic.”

  She picked up the remote and turned off the television. “I don’t know if I even want to go to college.”

  For a moment I reveled in the quiet. I was really tired of hearing about another summer barbeque recipe. “That’s your decision, but I think you should do something.”

  She hopped to her feet in one easy motion. “Not everyone likes school as much as you do, Chloe.”

  “I know that, but I want you to have every opportunity. You have so much potential…” I stopped myself from going on. I sounded like a graduation card. “What about culinary school?”

  She glanced back at the blank TV screen. “Maybe…” She trailed off.

  I would take a maybe for now, but our conversation wasn’t over. “You’re sure you will be okay here by yourself?”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  I removed Gig from my shoulder and stood. “Just promise me that you will read the applications?”

  “I’ll read them if you promise me you’ll be careful around those bus people.”

  I picked up my suitcase. “Done.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  As I parked my Beetle in the small lot next to the Dutch Inn, my cell phone rang. The readout told me it was Chief Rose.

  “Did you find Pearl?” I asked.

  “That’s why I’m calling,” the police chief said in her gruff way. “We tracked her down with her credit card. She checked into a chain hotel in Mount Vernon. Nottingham is over there now talking to her.”

  My shoulders sagged in relief. “Is she okay?”

  “Nottingham said she appeared fine.”

  “Is she coming back to the Dutch Inn?”

  “I haven’t heard a verdict about that yet from my officer.”

  I rolled up my car’s windows. “I’m relieved you found her.”

  “I am too,” she said. “I’ve got to go, Humphrey.”

  “Wait! I was just at the Troyer farm. Officer Riley was there collecting plant samples.”

  “I know,” she said.

  “What were they for?” I asked.

  “The crime lab needs to test them.” She sounded as if she didn’t want to say more.

  “You think one of those plants killed Ruby and Dudley.”

  “That’s for Doc to determine.” Her voice had an edge to it. “What time are you back on tour duty tomorrow?”

  “I’m still on it,” I said and explained I was staying at the Dutch Inn.

  The chief chortled. “Sounds like you’re in over your head, Humphrey.”

  “Whose fault is that?”

  Her laughter rang in my ear long after she hung up.

  The only other vehicle in the parking lot was the tour bus. Perhaps no other tourists were staying at the inn. That would mean the two voices I overheard earlier that afternoon had to be from the bus.

  I carried my suitcase across the cobblestone walkway leading from the parking lot to the front door of the inn. It was close to seven and my stomach rumbled. I should have eaten something before I left home. Dinner would be long over for the tour guests by now, but I hoped the dining room remained open.

  Jane folded a copy of the Amish newspaper, The Budget, on the countertop. “I see you’re back. Ready to check in?”

  Cheetos, who was on the counter, lazily batted at the edge of the newspaper.

  “Did Hudson tell you I was coming back?”

  “He did. He also told me the tour company would pay for your stay, so you don’t have to worry about that.”

  That came as a relief because I hadn’t thought to ask Hudson about who was paying for my room while he had been yelling at me on the phone.

  The front door opened, and Timothy entered, carrying a backpack as his only luggage. What a typical guy. Jane’s smile widened when he stepped in. “It is gut to see you Timothy Troyer. I have heard your business is doing well. You did a gut job on the Young’s flea market. Everyone in the
district is quite pleased it will be open all year round.”

  “It’s nice to see you again too. How are your children?” Timothy said, giving her his thousand watt smile.

  “Gut. Both teenagers now working here at the inn. What can I help you with?”

  He set his backpack on the floor. “I’d like to check in too.”

  “To stay with Chloe?” She raised her eyebrows at me.

  There was that blush again. “No. He needs his own room,” I said.

  Her hands fluttered to her ledger. “Ya, ya, I wasn’t thinking anything differently. I do have two vacant rooms.” She frowned. “How will you be paying for the room? The tour company said they would only pay for your room, Chloe.”

  “How much is it a night?” Timothy asked.

  “One fifty. It includes meal in the dining room, so it’s quite a bargain.”

  I touched Timothy’s arm. “That’s too expensive,” I said under my breath. “Maybe you should forget this idea. Go home. I’ll be fine.”

  “I’m staying.” Timothy’s jaw was set.

  “I have an idea,” Jane said. “I have several odd jobs that need to be done around the inn, from fixing doors to mending furniture. If you do those, I will let you stay here for free.”

  I opened my mouth to object. Timothy had more contracting work than he knew what to do with. He didn’t need to be tied down with a bunch of little jobs at the inn. “He—”

  “That sounds fair,” Timothy said.

  “Excellent.” She grinned and turned, removing two keys from the pegboard.

  I frowned at Timothy.

  He squeezed my hand and whispered as if he could read my mind, “Don’t worry. I can do it.”

  Jane turned back around and handed us both a key. I examined mine. Twenty-eight. “I put you on different floors. Timothy, I put you in room number three. It’s one of our best rooms and the closest to the front desk.”

  Timothy thanked her.

  “Is the dining room still open?” I asked.

  “It’s open until eight. Tonight, the cook made shepherd’s pie. We have a set meal for every day. You can see the planned meals for the week on a chalkboard in the dining room. I believe the tour group is still in the dining room.”