Falling to Pieces

by Vannetta Chapman

  Holding out a plate of breads and cheeses, her gaze met Callie’s. She didn’t smile exactly, but Callie saw something in her expression—was it understanding?

  Before she could figure it out, Esther had bent down to speak with her daughter, and Deborah had squeezed between them.

  “Are you upset?” She reached to touch Callie’s arm, juggling baby Joshua onto her opposite hip.

  “No. Maybe a little. It was a long night.” Callie rubbed at her forehead where a headache had been threatening all morning.

  “Should we leave? If it’s a bad time—”

  “Huh-uh. I’m glad you came. I’ve been chasing things around in my mind all morning.”

  “Wunderbaar. We’ll chase them together.”

  Deborah corralled everyone to the back of the store, to the quilting area Melinda spoke of. Cushy arm chairs were arranged in a semi-circle facing the front of the store, and an Amish-made coffee table sat in the middle.

  It was the one part of the store Callie had somewhat ignored. Though it was now clean, she hadn’t decided how she wanted to use it—since she didn’t exactly plan on staying.

  It wasn’t as if she could schedule classes.

  Or start a quilting group.

  Or invite friends over.

  Everyone except Esther sank into a chair, leaving the one in the center—the one directly facing the front door—for Callie. Esther arrived with the hot water from the kitchen and four mugs, plus an array of teas.

  “Best thing for a death is a cup of strong tea.”

  “How did ya’ll know?” Callie accepted the mug as well as her usual lemongrass and spearmint tea. Though she hadn’t had the stomach to eat any breakfast, suddenly the homemade bread array Esther had brought looked rather appealing. She selected a slice of banana nut from the tray on the table, then sat back, looking at the three women and waiting for an explanation.

  Esther and Deborah shared a smile. Melinda simply gazed down at her baby.

  “It’s the Amish grapevine,” Deborah explained. “We might not have telephones, but word travels fast from house to house when something of importance happens within our community.”

  “A gossip grapevine?” Callie asked, one eyebrow raised.

  “It can be that,” Esther acknowledged, “but most of us realize that if you spread gossip you’ll one day be on the hurting end of it.”

  Callie thought of the logic in what she was saying, thought of Houston, and the hurt she’d suffered because of loose tongues.

  “What Deborah’s speaking of is a little different.” Melinda traced her baby’s face as she continued to nurse. “We communicate in the old way—from household to household. News spreads fairly quickly.”

  Deborah sat Joshua on the floor with his favorite toy, beside Leah who was playing with her doll. “Now tell us what happened.

  We were very naerfich when we heard your car was in front of the building. Are you okay? And why did they keep you so long?”

  Callie gave them the shortened version, stopping twice to help customers who came in for quilting supplies. She described Gavin’s initial abruptness and how helpful Taylor had been.

  No one seemed surprised.

  “Gavin is a bit new on the force,” Esther explained.

  “I believe it was only six years ago last fall that he was hired.” Deborah’s voice was serious enough, but there was no mistaking the twinkle in her eye. “He’s still trying to prove himself.”

  “So he isn’t from here?”

  “Ya, actually he is. He grew up and went to school in the area, but then he went away to college and after that joined the English military.”

  “That would explain how formal and stiff he is. You would think he expected his C.O. to show up at any moment.” Callie reached down and stroked Max as she spoke.

  “What is a C.O., Callie?” Esther looked troubled.

  “Commanding Officer. No doubt Gavin was a favorite in his unit. I’m telling you, I don’t think the man has a kind bone in his body.”

  “Perhaps you’re being a bit rough.” Deborah set her mug on the table. “We were hesitant to accept him at first, because of his military service. But he’s always been fair with Amish people. He’s more respectful than most. Your problem last night might have stemmed from the fact that he follows the rules so closely, and you didn’t fit into the rules very well.”

  Callie realized then that some things were the same whether you were in a small community like Shipshewana or a huge metropolitan area like Houston.

  Gavin was a newbie after having grown up there, moved away, and settled back in town for six years. Callie had felt like she didn’t fit in while living in Houston once Rick died. She’d felt like she was someone from an alien planet, even though they had shared a life there for years. Would she ever feel at home here in Shipshewana?

  She was twenty-seven now. So if she decided to stay in Shipshewana, how old would she be before she was accepted?

  Callie nearly dropped the empty mug she was holding. Stay in Shipshewana? Where had that thought come from? She’d never even considered staying.

  Setting down her empty cup, she straightened her green cotton blouse and looked around at her newfound friends. They were her friends. They’d proven as much this morning. “Anyway, on to the important thing: You don’t have to worry about your quilts. The online auction is going well. We’re well above the minimum bid.” Callie used her napkin to brush her mouth, checking to see if she had stray cookie crumbs dangling anywhere. “And I don’t think there will be any more rude editorials, though I feel very bad about the death of Mr. Stakehorn.”

  “Ya, we all do.” Deborah murmured.

  “I suppose it’s up to the police to figure out what happened. As I explained more than once to the detective they brought in—I think his name was Black—”

  “Shane Black?” Esther cut in. The three women exchanged glances.

  “Yes, from the LaGrange County office,” Callie said, wondering what the big deal was. “Have you met him? I thought Officer Gavin was rude, but Gavin’s a puppy dog compared to Black.”

  Deborah leaned forward, picked up baby Joshua, and placed him across her legs, tummy down as he began to suck his thumb. “Ya, we’ve met him.” Deborah rubbed Joshua’s back in small circles.

  Esther sat up a bit straighter, and Melinda pulled off her glasses, cleaned them with the hem of her apron.

  Callie waited for them to add something else, but no one did.

  Taking a page from their book, she sat back and waited.

  Melinda was the first to break the silence. “What exactly did Black do, Callie?”

  Her solemn eyes widened behind her glasses, or maybe it just appeared that way to Callie. It seemed suddenly as if the entire room had stilled, waiting for her answer.

  She stood, began straightening the already clean area. Max padded over and pushed against her side, as if he too could sense her agitation.

  “What did he do?” Her hands came out, encompassing the room. “He did what detectives are supposed to do I would imagine. It wasn’t what he did. It was more the way he did it.”

  She paused, stared over their heads, trying to pinpoint exactly what it was about Black that had irked her to a point of near misery. Finally she waved it off and continued. “I told him exactly what I told Gavin and Taylor, but he kept asking the same questions. I swear, if Gavin is a bear protecting his community, Black is a lone wolf. The man would not let it go.”

  She clattered the dishes together on the tray, set the tray down on the table, and slumped back into her chair. “He acted as if I should know something, as if it was more than a coincidence that I happened to be the one who found Stakehorn’s body. I was unnerved enough by then—”

  “Of course you were.” Melinda shook her head.

  Esther smoothed out her skirt, an unreadable look on her face. “It’s Black’s way, though that doesn’t make it right.”

  “So ya’ll know him?”

 
“We’ve had … dealings with Officer Black before. He isn’t Amish, of course, and he no longer lives in Shipshewana, but he’s assigned to our community for certain cases.” Deborah looked as if she might say more, but a sharp look from Esther stopped her.

  Callie started to ask whether she should be worried when the bell over the front door rang.

  Grateful for the distraction, she practically sprang out of her seat. “Business goes on as usual,” she chirped, gliding toward the front of the store.

  Then she saw Shane Black and stopped dead in her tracks.

  “Miss Harper.”

  “Officer Black. How can I help you?”

  The man was maybe two inches taller than her, lean and muscular, and probably five years older. Dark black hair curled and touched the collar of his shirt. Piercing eyes the color of night seemed to take in everything at once.

  Callie thought again of a wolf.

  Despite her determination to remain calm, a shiver started at the base of her neck—traveled both directions simultaneously so that her scalp tingled and spiders danced down her spine.

  Why did he intimidate her so?

  It wasn’t as if she’d done anything wrong.

  “I need you to come with me.”

  “Come with you?”

  “Correct.” He didn’t move, didn’t glance away.

  “Why would I come with you?”

  Black stepped closer, stepped into her comfort zone—close enough that Max uttered a low growl.

  Close enough that she caught the smell of summer on him, heard the creak of leather that had to be his holster under the light summer jacket he wore. “Come with me now and we can say it’s only for questioning. Make me come back and you’ll be under arrest.”

  Chapter 13

  DEBORAH WALKED into the front room as Callie reached for the counter behind her, looking as if she needed to steady herself.

  “Is there a problem here, Officer Black?” Deborah kept her voice soft and even. She knew from experience that Black responded best to reason, not emotion.

  “No problem, miss.” Though he didn’t address her by name, his nod and gaze said he remembered her, as well as Melinda and Esther.

  In fact, Deborah was willing to bet Black rarely forgot a name or a face—and that he never forgot a case.

  Callie spun around, stepped close enough that only Deborah could hear. “He says I need to go with him. What will I do about the shop?”

  “We’ll take care of it. Do as he says, and we’ll be along to see you in a few minutes.”

  “Max—”

  “Taken care of,” Melinda said, stepping closer. “Don’t worry about a thing, Callie.” Raising her voice so Black would hear, Melinda added, “I’m sure Officer Black won’t need you for long.”

  Esther walked past the group of women, still holding her daughter’s hand. She opened the door to the shop, then turned, all business. “What’s begun is sooner done, Callie. Two of us will stay with the shop, and one will follow along behind you. So you’ll have a ride home.”

  Though her words were directed to Callie, her gaze settled on Black, dared him to contradict what she said.

  Instead of arguing with any of them, he placed his hand lightly on Callie’s arm, motioning her toward the door. “After you, then.”

  Though he wore no hat, he nodded at them, tipping his head.

  Customers stopped on the sidewalk to gawk—everyone in town recognized Shane Black’s car. Jonas had tried to explain to her that English viewed cars like Amish viewed their horses. It was hard to understand how anyone could love a yellow car with black stripes. Jonas had said it was a classic Buick. Deborah noticed Amish and English, a few sympathetic looks (like Mr. Simms), and a few unkind ones. Everyone stared as Callie and Black made their way from the store.

  As Deborah watched them move down the walk, past the front of the shop with the bright little FOR SALE sign standing proudly near the street side windows, she wondered if what Shane was doing would help or cause the situation to spin further out of control.

  The door shut, and Deborah rushed to the front window, quickly shadowed by Melinda and Esther. They watched Callie duck into the back of the Buick. Black didn’t handcuff her, and they considered that a good sign.

  He also didn’t put his light on top of the car.

  When he’d disappeared down the road, headed toward the Shipshewana Police Station, they all started talking at once.

  “What could he possibly want with her?” Melinda demanded.

  “How dare he? It’s the same as before. He’s causing problems when he should be solving them.” Esther nearly trembled with anger.

  Deborah watched as she led Leah to the back room where Joshua and Hannah were sleeping.

  “Mamm, what did that Englisher want with Miss Callie?”

  “Don’t worry, boppli. She’ll be back soon.”

  “Can Max stay with me until then?” Leah reached out, ran her hand over and through the dog’s coat. He seemed to endure her attentions well enough, lying down beside her.

  Esther reached into her shoulder bag, pulled out a sheet of paper and some crayons she’d brought. “Yes, Max seems happy here for now. Do me a favor and color for a few minutes, Leah. I’ll be at the counter with Aentie Deborah.”

  Deborah reached out, rubbed Esther’s shoulder when she joined them back at the counter. “I know it’s hard for you to see Black, but we need to stay focused on Callie. Black must think she knows something she hasn’t told them.”

  “Or he found additional evidence since last night.” Melinda greeted a customer who came in looking for blue fabric.

  “I’ll take care of this,” Esther said. “You two figure out how we can help Callie. I do not want Black bullying her like he did me, but it’s probably best that I stay here at the store. I don’t need to be around that man.”

  Deborah watched her walk away.

  “Esther’s right,” Melinda said. “She’ll be more help here at the store.”

  “Ya. I suppose so. It’s probably better if Esther isn’t around Black at all. It seems her wounds have barely healed.”

  “We could be looking at this wrong. Perhaps facing Officer Black will bring some resolution to what still haunts Esther.” Melinda’s voice was soft, thoughtful, reminding Deborah of her mother-in-law the night before.

  Deborah shook her head, tried to focus on the problems at hand. She had always been a good judge of character, and she was certain Callie wasn’t involved with Stakehorn’s death. “Whatever’s going on, it bothers me. Callie’s new here. She doesn’t have much in the way of support—”

  “She has us.” Melinda smiled, straightened the eBay bookmarks on the counter.

  “True. But some would say we are the reason she’s in this mess to begin with. If it weren’t for us badgering her to open the store—”

  “And auction the quilts—”

  “She never would have met Stakehorn.”

  Melinda sighed, sat carefully on the stool. “So what should we do? I have several more hours before I need to pick up Matthew and Aaron from their grossmammi’s.”

  Deborah fidgeted with the hem of her apron, looked at the clock on the wall, then peeked over at Esther.

  “What are you thinking of doing?” Melinda asked. “Since we were little, when you get that look in your eye it’s meant you were considering doing something that might land us in trouble.”

  “Callie’s already in trouble,” Deborah pointed out. “I think I should go find Adalyn Landt.”

  “Adalyn Landt, the lawyer?”

  “There’s just the one Adalyn in town. She would know what to do. I only suggest it because I think Callie needs good counsel right now, and I’m not sure she’s getting it from Black.”

  “Certainly we don’t know all the ins and outs of the English system.” Melinda stood and glanced back at the children. “I’ll stay here and help Esther with the store and the bopplin. You go and find Adalyn.”

  Deborah
hugged her, then hurried to the back to retrieve her purse.

  “Deb, do you think Adalyn will do it?”

  “She’s always helped us before, and it’s rare we use their legal system. If she’ll help us, I have to believe she’ll help Callie.” Melinda nodded. “Good luck then.”

  Twenty minutes later Deborah and Adalyn approached the front door of the Shipshewana Police Department, located inside Shipshewana Town Hall. A small department of fewer than ten officers, it had nonetheless grown significantly since Deborah was a child.

  She dared a glance at Adalyn.

  Adalyn, who had barely waited to hear the entire story, before she’d grabbed her brown leather briefcase and hurried out the door.

  “I love our officers, Deborah. They swore an oath to defend the town of Shipshe and defend is what they will do.”

  “What does defending Shipshewana have to do with Callie?”

  “Exactly what I intend to find out.”

  As they pushed through the doors of the single-story building, Adalyn stiffened her spine, as if preparing for battle.

  Adalyn was nearing fifty, with gray hair pulled back in a bun at the nape of her neck. Taller than Deborah, probably five-seven, and a bit overweight from the pie and coffee she loved, she was without a doubt the best lawyer in Shipshewana—not that there were many.

  Deborah often wondered how the woman had enough customers to maintain a business, but then she understood little about the workings of a lawyer.

  She did know that the few times she’d dealt with her, Adalyn had been honest and straightforward. More importantly, in the situation with Esther and the death of her husband, Adalyn had proven to be a true Godsend—both compassionate and savvy enough to guide them through the English legal system.

  “I’m here to see my client, Miss Callie Harper.” Adalyn offered the receptionist at the front desk a small smile—enough to be pleasant, but not enough to indicate she could be pushed around.

  “Sure thing, Miss Landt.” The receptionist looked as if she’d recently graduated from the English high school. In other words, maybe all of eighteen years old. Despite the short blonde hair, dangly ear rings, and makeup, she reminded Deborah of her own niece—very young. “If you’ll have a seat in the waiting room, I’ll tell—”