Shunned and Dangerous (An Amish Mystery)

by Bradford, Laura

  She was just tossing a bag of trash into the container behind Heavenly Treasures when she heard the telltale clip-clop of Eli’s buggy as it turned into the alley separating Claire’s gift shop from the Amish-owned bake shop next door. Looking over her shoulder, Claire raised her hand in greeting only to let it fall back down to her side at her incorrect assumption.

  Nearly four weeks had come and gone since Eli’s older brother, Benjamin, had made any of the half-dozen or so daily runs between the Miller’s farm and Shoo Fly Bake Shoppe. Milk was still delivered each morning, pie boxes were still assembled each evening, and Ruth—Eli’s twin sister—was still looked after and assisted during Shoo Fly Bake Shoppe’s busiest spurts, but lately, those tasks had fallen completely on Eli.

  Sure, she could chalk Eli’s stepped-up presence to the young man’s desire to see Esther as many times throughout the day as possible, but when he still showed up again and again on days Esther wasn’t working, Claire knew it pointed to more. Much more.

  She forced her breathing to remain steady despite the near Pavlovian response to Ben’s presence that had her heart beating faster and her hands growing damper by the minute. Somehow, she’d hoped the time apart would have dulled her senses where the handsome Amish man was concerned, but reality, and the way the late-morning sun shimmered off his deep blue eyes, was rapidly proving otherwise.

  Wiping her moist hands against the sides of her formfitting black trousers, Claire willed her feet toward the buggy and her mouth into some semblance of a natural smile. “Ben! It’s so good to see you.”

  The tall, lanky man with the clean-shaven face, high cheekbones, and scrap of dark brown hair visible beneath his hat jumped down from his seat behind the horses and held out his hand to Claire. “Yah. It is good to see you, too.”

  Her hand disappeared inside his strong, callused counterpart, the tingle of his touch solidifying the fact her heart hadn’t completely caught up with her head where Benjamin Miller was concerned. Oh, she’d made the right choice turning down his suggestion of a life together. One only had to look at the rippling effects across Jakob’s life to know what leaving the Amish community after baptism would do to Ben and the relationships he treasured with his siblings. But just because her head—and even some of her heart—knew she’d done what was best, it didn’t mean she stopped wondering from time to time.

  Ben was thoughtful in a way few people were. He was kind in a way that made everyone feel like they mattered. And, even more importantly, he cared enough to ask and to listen—a winning combination in Claire’s book after coming from a marriage where any and all of those traits fell a distant second to climbing the corporate ladder.

  “Nice day we are having, yah?”

  She followed his finger upward, the warmth of the sun on her face momentarily chasing the autumn nip from her skin. “Beautiful.”

  Feeling his gaze shift in her direction, she cast about for something to say that could lead them back to the quiet friendship they’d forged and she still cherished.

  “I imagine the Miller family is thrilled at the notion of Eli and Esther getting married,” she said, wincing inwardly at the audible hitch to her voice.

  For a long moment, Ben said nothing, his eyes searching her face with a calming intensity. Then, finally, “You do not want them to marry?”

  Shaking her head against the notion, she rushed to explain the potpourri of feelings Esther and Eli’s engagement had stirred inside her. “Oh, Ben, I couldn’t be happier for Esther and Eli. There’s a tenderness between them that makes me happy every time I see them together. It’s as if the way they look at each other now is some sort of magical window that allows me to see thirty years into their future . . . and they’re still smiling, still in love.”

  “This is good, yah?”

  She wandered over to the back stoop of her shop and lowered herself onto the top step. “It’s wonderful, Ben. I was beside myself with excitement when Esther told me last night.”

  “What changed?”

  Slowly, she lifted her gaze until it mingled with his, the way in which he was able to see straight into her heart as surprising as ever. “I don’t know how you do that.”

  His dark brows rose ever so slightly beneath the rim of his hat. “I do not know what you mean, Claire.”

  She considered explaining, pointing to his ability to read her as one of the many reasons why her heart still fluttered every time she saw him, but, in the end, she opted to get to the point. “I didn’t realize, until my aunt pointed it out this morning, that I’d lose Esther here at the shop. I . . . I guess the thought of her not being here hurts a little.”

  “Hurts?”

  “During those first six months I was here in Heavenly, I pretty much stayed inside the inn—helping Diane, getting acclimated to her daily tasks, and sharing countless heart-to-heart talks. Sometimes, I’d go for walks by myself, but other than Diane and the guests that came and went from the inn, I didn’t really have any friends here.” She fiddled with the sleeves of her teal green blouse as her thoughts traveled backward along with her words. “But it wasn’t until I opened this place and hired Esther that I truly felt as if Heavenly was my home, too. Suddenly, I had my dream job and my first real friend. And now, three months later, I’m poised to lose them both.”

  “Both?”

  Realizing her mistake, she rushed to clarify her words before she revealed too much. “No, no . . . just Esther.”

  “Esther will not be far. Eli is to stay in Heavenly if it is God’s will.”

  She closed her eyes against the image of Eli and Esther having to move north or west to find a farm, and focused on the only aspect she could fathom at the moment. “Even if she’s down the road, I won’t be seeing her nearly every day the way I do now. She’ll be busy with her new life, and I will be . . .” Her words petered off only to return with a defiant shake of her head. “When she is off and married, we won’t be able to laugh at the day’s funny moments together. She won’t be able to teach me Pennsylvania Dutch the way I’ve been hoping she would.”

  Ben claimed the empty step beside Claire, propping his forearms against his thighs as he did. “I do not work at shop with you.”

  “I know that,” she said, shooting a quizzical look in his direction.

  “Jakob does not work in shop with you.”

  She shrugged. “No.”

  “Ruth works there”—he jutted his chin in the direction of Shoo Fly Bake Shoppe across the alleyway, the aroma of a freshly baked apple pie wafting through the bakery’s screened door—“not here with you.”

  “If she did, I’d be big as a house from all those delicious treats she makes,” Claire said, laughing. Then, turning her body to the side, she reestablished eye contact with Ben. “I don’t understand where you’re going with all of this.”

  Ben cleared his throat once, twice. “Ruth is your friend, yah? Jakob is your friend, yah? I . . . I am your friend, yah?”

  At the unexpected hesitation in his voice, she reached for his hand and gave it a quick but gentle squeeze. “Yes, you are all my friends.”

  He looked down at the place where her hand had been moments earlier, then looked away, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

  “Ben?”

  Finally, he looked back, a hooded effect across his otherwise clear blue eyes. “Esther does not need the shop to be your friend.”

  She smiled through the day’s second round of tears, Ben’s simple yet heartfelt words proving to be exactly what she needed to hear. “Thank you, Ben,” she whispered.

  “It is nothing.” He rose to his feet, the snort of his horse stealing his attention long enough for Claire to compose herself. “Eli was hitching up the buggy to look after Ruth, but I said no, I would do it today.”

  Jumping to her feet, she nodded. “Then I’ll leave you to it.” She reached for the handle of her own screened door. “It was good to see you again. I’ve missed you.”

  He held up his hand, his eyes wide. “You do
not understand. I told Eli I would come this time so I could check on you, too.”

  “Me?” she asked, releasing her hold on the door. “But why?”

  “Eli said you found Zook’s body in maze. He said you screamed.”

  “Oh. That.” She took in a deep breath then let it go, slowly. “I’m surprised the whole town didn’t hear me scream when I found him like that.”

  “And now?”

  “It’s not something I’ll soon forget, I’m sure, but I’m okay.” She met his worried expression with what she hoped was a reassuring smile then felt it fade as the events of the previous night took center stage in her thoughts. “It is disheartening to hear of any murder. But to learn it is the brother of another murder victim is hard to comprehend.”

  “Duggan is in jail. He could not have murdered Harley.”

  “I know, but I’d be lying if I didn’t say it would be easier on Jakob if this murder could be hung on this Duggan fellow, too.”

  Ben’s head snapped up. “I do not understand. Does Jakob not have suspects?”

  She stepped down to the cobblestoned alleyway, Jakob’s failure to return her call from that morning sending a renewed shiver down her spine. Jakob was struggling. That, she knew already. But, in the cold light of day, the task of finding Harley’s killer and bringing him to justice had to be weighing on the detective in a way no previous case ever had. Especially when the most likely suspect shared not only his last name but also his DNA.

  “He has one. But it’s not one even an excommunicated son would ever want to consider.”

  A dark cloud of emotion rolled across Ben’s face just before he fisted his hands and turned toward his waiting horse. “I must go.”

  “Ben?” She half walked, half ran after him, the abrupt change in his demeanor catching her by surprise. “Ben? What’s wrong?”

  He hoisted himself onto the driver’s seat of his buggy and grabbed hold of the reins. “It is as I told Eli and many others in my community last night. Mose Fisher did not kill Harley Zook.”

  She stared up at him. “How can you be so sure?”

  “Mose Fisher would not murder. It is not the Amish way.”

  “Is it the Amish way to be angry?”

  He softened his grip ever so slightly. “We do not show anger.”

  “Eli said Mose was angry at Harley for extending a job offer to Isaac.”

  “Eli should mind his tongue!”

  Claire shifted from foot to foot under the weight and force of Ben’s words. “Eli was asked a question by a detective, Ben. He did not take joy in answering, but he did so with the truth. I commend him for that. Besides, if Mose is not guilty, nothing Eli said will make a difference.”

  Again, Ben firmed up his hold on the reins, gently guiding the horse and buggy down the alley toward Lighted Way—the quaint shop-lined thoroughfare that connected the English and Amish sides of Heavenly, melding the two worlds in almost seamless fashion. When he reached the end, he stopped. “Mose Fisher did not murder Harley Zook. It does not matter that he was bitter about so much. It does not matter that he had bursts of anger. Mose Fisher would not play God for any reason.” Pulling his gaze from Claire, he fixed it, instead, on the fields in the distance. “I will prove this to my community. I will prove this to Jakob. And I will prove this to you, Claire, as well.”

  Chapter 5

  “Oh, Esther, this footstool is exquisite!” Claire bent over the hand-painted wooden step and marveled at the winter scene. The snow-covered bridge that graced the surface looked so real, she found herself wishing for a sweater and a mug of hot chocolate. “I can’t imagine anyone actually stepping on it.”

  Smoothing her slender hand down the sides of her pale blue, white-aproned dress, Esther merely pointed to the next item on the counter. “I made the dolls this time.”

  Claire stepped to her right and scooped up two of the dozen faceless Amish dolls into her arms. “You made them?”

  “Yah. When she is not painting, Mamm has been busy canning. I saw that we had only two dolls here, so I made these, instead. Do you like?”

  Slowly, Claire turned each doll over in her hands, the traditional Amish dress and kapp soliciting a smile from her lips despite the doll’s lack of one. “They’re every bit as good as your mom’s.”

  Esther’s eyes widened. “You think so?”

  “How could I not?” Swapping the two dolls in her hands for the two still on the table, Claire was pleased to find the attention to detail every bit as good as the first pair. “You do beautiful work, Esther. With everything you make for the store.”

  Dropping her head ever so slightly, Esther stared down at the floor, her uncharacteristic silence prompting Claire to set the dolls down. “Esther? Is everything okay?”

  “I do not want to be ungrateful.”

  She drew back. “Ungrateful? You? Why would you say something like that?”

  Esther looked up with eyes that glistened. “All I have wanted is to marry Eli. For my father to see him as a good man.”

  “Okay . . .”

  “Both things have happened,” Esther whispered, her voice choked with emotion. “I should be happy, but I am not.”

  Claire felt her mouth gape and rushed to close it for fear her reaction would be the thing that pushed a teetering Esther off the edge. Instead, Claire tucked her hand inside her friend’s arm and led her to the pair of stools on the other side of the counter. For now, the shop was quiet thanks to the lunchtime lull that transferred the tourist traffic to the handful of cafés and quaint eateries along Lighted Way. “Did you and Eli have a fight?”

  Esther slapped a hand to her own mouth and shook her head, the muffled effect on her words making Claire lean closer. “No. No. Eli and I, we do not fight. Ever.”

  She tried not to look at all of the tasks she needed to do around the shop—the pricing of Martha and Esther’s new items, the changing out of the front window display for the upcoming Thanksgiving season, and the letter to her landlord she dreaded writing—and focused, instead, on the troubled girl seated on the next stool. “Then why aren’t you happy, Esther?”

  Dropping her hand into her lap, Esther picked at an imaginary piece of lint rather than answer.

  “Esther?” Claire nudged her friend’s chin upward with her forefinger. “Talk to me.”

  “I . . . I am eager t-to be Eli’s wife,” Esther stammered, “but I will miss being here . . . with you each day.”

  Claire willed herself to remain upbeat, to squelch the like-minded feelings she had been inwardly moping about all morning. Somehow, someway, she and Esther would remain close just as Ben had said. She had to believe that. For Esther and for herself.

  “I will still make things for the store, of course,” Esther rushed to add. “But I will not be here to work and to laugh.”

  “That makes two of us.” She hadn’t realized she’d spoken aloud until she looked up and saw Esther eyeing her curiously.

  “Claire?”

  “We’ll figure something out, Esther . . . no matter what happens. I promise.” It was a promise she knew she shouldn’t be making, but she couldn’t help herself. The last thing she needed to throw on Esther at that moment was the reality of Heavenly Treasures’ pending demise.

  The faintest hint of a smile appeared at the corners of Esther’s mouth. “Perhaps you could come to dinner sometimes. I know Eli would be pleased if you did.”

  “Then we can laugh together there, right?”

  The smile moved to the young woman’s large hazel eyes, igniting the amber flecks that underscored her kinship with Jakob. “Yah!”

  “Then we’ll be okay, Esther.” She took a moment to catch a much-needed breath, the sentiment Ben had shared only hours earlier resurfacing in her heart at just the right time. “We’re friends, Esther. The only thing that can change that is us.”

  “Then it is settled. We do not need this shop to be friends.”

  “No, we don’t,” Claire rasped.

  “You wil
l come to the wedding, yah?”

  She pushed the fog of emotion from her throat and smiled at her friend. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  “It will be the second Tuesday in December.”

  Claire liberated a red marker from the can beside the register and marked the date on the calendar with a big heart. “Can I ask a question?”

  “Of course.”

  “Why a Tuesday? Isn’t that a work day for your community?”

  Esther clasped her hands together in her lap and sat up tall. “Wedding season happens after the fall harvest. That is why it does not interfere with work. The reason we marry on Tuesdays and Thursdays is for benches.”

  Claire returned the marker to the can and faced Esther once again. “Benches?”

  “Yah. Monday and Wednesday is when the benches travel in the bench wagon to the home where the wedding will be. On Saturday they are to travel again for Sunday worship.”

  It made sense. Basic, common sense.

  With the Amish, there really wasn’t any other way.

  “There will be much to do to get ready.”

  “How many people will be there?” Claire asked.

  “Mamm thinks it will be three hundred.”

  This time, she didn’t shut her mouth in time. “Uh . . . three hundred?”

  Esther shrugged. “It could be less, it could be more.”

  “And Martha will be expected to feed all of those people . . . in your home?”

  “Yah. But I will help. My sisters will help. Neighbors, too.”

  “Three hundred people eat a lot of food!”

  Esther reached into her satchel and retrieved a sheet of folded paper. With careful fingers, the young woman unfolded it and handed it to Claire. “Mamm and I made a list last night.”

  “List?” Dropping her gaze from Esther to the paper, Claire gasped at the sheer volume of food. “Thirty-eight chickens for the roast? Thirty-eight loaves of bread for the filling? Four buckets of mashed potatoes? Three-fourths of a bushel of cabbage for coleslaw?” She followed the list with her finger, the enormity of the task facing the Kings on Esther’s wedding day mind-numbing at best. “Twenty-two dozen donuts? Ten pounds of confectioner’s sugar to dip the donuts in? Thirty custard pies?”