“We will be busy,” Esther mused, nodding along with the list Claire continued to narrate aloud. “Only, there is also worry.”
She looked up from the paper and made a face. “If I had to prepare all of this, I’d be worried, too.”
“Not for food. For Dawdy.”
And just like that, Esther’s wedding faded from Claire’s thoughts. She quietly folded the list and handed it back to her friend. “I don’t really know what to say about that, Esther. Is your mom holding up okay?”
Esther slid off the stool and wandered around the counter, her destination obviously unclear. Midway across the shop, though, she turned around. “Mamm does not want to believe her dat could do something like that, but she saw his anger. Dat saw his anger. All saw his anger. Dawdy did not think kindly on Mr. Zook.”
“Was your grandfather ever shunned for that anger?” she asked, curious.
“Yah. But Benjamin always made it right. He calmed Dawdy into seeking forgiveness for his ways. He did this again and again.”
Esther’s words didn’t really come as any big surprise. Ben himself had alluded to a close tie with Jakob’s father, but, still, Claire couldn’t help but cringe at the rippling effect such a bond would have across the investigation. Looking to the father he hadn’t spoken to in sixteen years as a murder suspect would be hard enough on Jakob. Having the man he considered a rival for his father’s respect throughout his childhood playing the role of champion was sure to make things worse.
It was a subject she felt best to keep from Esther. What, exactly, Esther knew about her uncle’s relationship with her grandfather, beyond the excommunication part, she didn’t know. But whatever the case, it wasn’t Claire’s place to fill in blanks or offer opinions. She wasn’t Amish. She didn’t understand all the ins and outs.
But she had to say something. Something to keep Esther’s focus where it should be . . .
“I do not know what happened to Harley Zook, Esther. But I do know that Jakob is a fair man. He is not one to rush to judgment. On anyone.”
The door-mounted bell at the front of the shop let them know their alone-time was over. The lunch crowd was slowly heading toward the street and the various stores that lined it, their stomachs satisfied. “Good afternoon. Welcome to Heavenly Treasures . . .”
The shy greeting Claire had come to associate with Esther trailed from her employee’s lips as Jakob stepped into the shop, his shoulders heavy. “Esther,” he said with a slight tip of his head before turning to greet Claire. “How are you feeling this morning? Did you get any sleep?”
More than anything, she wanted to reach out, smooth the worry from the man’s face. But she couldn’t. Not there. Not in front of Esther. Instead, she did the only thing she could. She gave an answer she hoped would alleviate at least some of his tangible anguish. “It took a while. But I did manage to fall asleep.” She swept her hand toward the back of the shop that led to a tiny stockroom, her even tinier office, and the door to the alleyway. “Would you like a cup of coffee? Or maybe a donut? I picked up a half dozen at Ruth’s place this morning and there are still four left.”
He waved off her request, adding a dimple-free smile to his response. “No, thank you, Claire.” Then, standing in the same spot, he cast an uneasy glance in his niece’s direction, as if he was afraid the events of the previous night had set them back from their place of tentative smiles and quick waves.
Esther took in the floor, then Claire. “Did you tell my uncle?”
“Tell your uncle?” she parroted in confusion before the meaning behind her friend’s words grew clear. “Oh! No . . . Things were crazy last night with finding Harley . . .” She shook her head, redirecting the conversation from a path none of them wanted to go down at that moment. “Shall I tell him now?”
Jakob looked from one to the other, his brow furrowed. “Tell me what?”
At Esther’s quick nod, Claire closed the gap between herself and Jakob, the change in tone one she was anxious to share with a man who was in dire need of a little happy news. “Eli has asked for Esther’s hand in marriage.”
The dimples that had, only moments earlier, been missing in action sprang to the surface of Jakob’s cheeks. “And?” he asked Claire while focusing entirely on his niece.
Esther’s answer came by way of the tiniest hop and the shortest, faintest squeal Claire had ever heard. But it was enough. Jakob clapped his hands with pleasure. “Esther, that is wonderful news! Absolutely wonderful! Congratulations! Eli is a lucky, lucky man.”
For a moment, Claire didn’t think Esther was going to say anything, but, in the blink of an eye, Esther’s smile was followed by a whispered thank-you and a split second of heartfelt eye contact between the pair. Then, Esther was gone, disappearing out into the alley as Eli’s horse drew to a stop outside the shop’s side window. Claire watched her go, reveling in the beauty of a moment that had Jakob looking happier than he had in weeks. Yet when she turned back to enjoy the smile for a second time, she found that it had been dulled by the visible mist in his eyes.
“Jakob? What’s wrong? I thought you’d be happy that she spoke to you, that she wanted you to know her big news.”
He swiped a hurried hand across his eyes and did his best to re-create the smile that only moments earlier had been so genuine. “I am happy for Esther and for Eli. The love they have for each other is plain as day. For that, I am grateful.”
“Then why am I sensing you’re sad, too?”
Seconds passed before he finally answered, the huskiness of his voice a dead giveaway to the emotion he was fighting to keep in check. “Because of my choice, I will not be invited to share in Esther and Eli’s day.”
Chapter 6
Diane Weatherly was many things. She was caring, generous, welcoming, and loving, to name a few. But subtle? That she wasn’t. When it came to Claire’s romantic future, Diane was like a Mack Truck driving through Claire’s confused thoughts and emotions with one singular suitor in mind.
What Claire had been thinking, then, when she invited the detective to dinner at the inn, was mind-boggling at best. Especially when the look Diane still sported nearly an hour after the meal’s conclusion was enough to send shivers down her niece’s spine.
Still, though, she’d done the right thing. Jakob could use a friend, someone who’d listen when he needed an ear, smile when he needed a distraction, and offer a few heartfelt words of encouragement amid the internal debate she knew raged inside. If stepping in to fill that role added fuel to the Claire-belongs-with-Jakob fire Diane had been stoking for months, then so be it. Claire could always toss dirt on it at a later date.
Or so she told herself . . .
“Dinner was fantastic, Diane.” Jakob dropped onto the center of the rose-colored couch and smiled at the now-beaming woman on the other side of the candlelit parlor. “I can see why this place is booked nearly three hundred and sixty-five days a year.”
“You’re welcome anytime, dear,” Diane enthused before pointing Claire toward the empty cushion beside Jakob. “Claire, please sit. You look tired.”
She considered protesting—the woman’s true intentions were far more about placing Claire within close proximity of Jakob than providing relief from a long and trying day— but, in the end, she did as she was told. After all, Claire’s main concern at that moment was Jakob.
“I was shocked when Claire finally told me about Harley Zook this morning,” Diane continued, her focus shifting back to Jakob. “I can’t imagine anyone wanting to hurt such a good and decent man. Are there any suspects?”
Claire cringed inwardly at the question, instantly regretting her tell-and-run following breakfast that morning. If she’d had more time to walk her aunt through the aftermath of finding Harley’s body, she could have explained the feared connection to Mose Fisher. But if Jakob was thrown off by the question, it didn’t show, the detective merely leaning forward to address at least part of the sixty-something’s statement. “Did you know Harley wel
l?” he asked quietly.
Returning her coffee mug to the end table, Diane nodded slowly. “I did. He has been helping me keep things in order here at the inn for a few years now. He was a hard worker. Quick, yet thorough.”
“What kind of work did he do around here?”
“Anything and everything.” Diane scooted to the edge of her lounge chair and stood, the built-in bookcases that lined nearly half of the room taunting her with a speck of missed dust only she or Claire would notice. “Last week, he was out here fixing that window.” She pointed toward the large plate glass window that looked out over the darkened fields of Heavenly. “Yesterday morning he replaced a warped step by the back door. Whatever I needed, he fixed—broken hinges, wobbly chairs, creaky steps, you name it. In fact, without Harley, I’m not sure what I would have done except go broke using a contractor from Breeze Point.”
“So Harley was a fix-it man?” Jakob reached for the coat he’d draped across the arm of the couch and rustled around in the pocket for a small notepad and pen.
Diane pulled a dust cloth from her apron pocket and ran it along the middle shelf, turning back to Jakob with a shrug when she was done. “I think it was about three years ago when he first showed up here with a toolbox in tow. He’d heard through the grapevine that I wanted to add window boxes around the inn. He listened to what I wanted in terms of size and quoted me a good price. I hired him on the spot. By the end of the day, I had flower boxes.”
“Harley made those?” Claire echoed.
At Diane’s nod, Jakob continued. “And that’s when you started hiring him to do odd jobs around here?”
“He’d done such wonderful work, it made perfect sense.” Diane wandered around the room, her earlier angst upon hearing the news of Harley’s murder returning, in spades. “It got to a point where it became obvious that this was what he should be doing.”
Jakob looked up from his notepad. “You mean working here at the inn?”
“No.” Diane stopped in front of the window and gazed out at fields she’d seen a million times before. “Working with his hands . . . fixing things . . . building things. For people like me—people who simply don’t have the ability or the time to tackle those kinds of jobs.”
Claire opened her mouth to speak only to shut it again as Diane turned and sighed. “One only had to watch that man for five minutes to know he was much happier with tools in his hand than he was carting milk around.”
“Milk?” Claire echoed.
It was Jakob’s turn to nod. “Harley’s brother, John, was a dairy farmer. Harley took over the operation after John’s murder.” At the memory, Jakob’s shoulders hunched forward. “That’s what the Amish do in the wake of tragedy. They step forward and shoulder whatever needs to be shouldered.”
“But his shoulders grew weary after sixteen some odd years,” Diane said as she perched on the edge of her chair once again. “The days of milking a cow straight into a can for drinking are long gone. Regulations and advances in technology have changed many things for Amish dairy farmers.”
“So he did both?”
“For a while, yes. But eventually the notion of working out of his buggy and going from house to house fixing things won out for Harley.” Diane fidgeted with the simple design along the hem of her skirt, her words beginning to pick up speed. “So, he started a mobile carpentry business mostly on my word of mouth. He got so busy so fast he ended up hiring an apprentice last month. Then, when they were here the other day working on the back step, he told me your brother, Isaac, had decided to come on board as a partner.”
Jakob’s gaze dropped to his notepad, yet he wrote nothing, Eli’s take on Isaac’s decision no doubt circling around in the detective’s thoughts.
“It is funny how a few window boxes could lead to such a booming business, isn’t it?” Diane mused as a slight smile played across her lips. “But Harley always made sure to fit me in when I needed something. He said I was his first customer and that entitled me to special treatment for life.”
“And knowing Harley the way I did, he’d have made good on his word.” Jakob dragged his pen across the spiral edge of the pad and released a pent-up burst of air. “Zook was nothing if not loyal.”
Diane paused mid-nod. “What will happen to his cows now that there’s no one around to see that they get home?”
“His cows?” Jakob parroted, looking up.
“For such big animals, they sure can be stealthy, can’t they?”
“Stealthy?”
“One or the other was escaping from Harley’s field all the time.” Diane sandwiched her face between her hands. “I think it was Jackie who was the last to sneak off the day he fixed my shutter.”
“Actually, if Jackie was a few days ago, then that honor would have to go to Mary now,” Jakob corrected before rising to his feet and staring up at the ceiling.
“Mary—wait!” Claire, too, stood, the pre-maze portion of the previous evening finally pushing its way to the foreground of her thoughts. “You’re talking about the cow we found on the side of the road yesterday, aren’t you? You said that was Harley’s cow.”
Jakob cupped a hand to his mouth then let it slide slowly down his chin. “That’s right. I found out, after you left, that her name is Mary. At least that’s what one of Hochstetler’s boys told me when he walked through the field and voluntarily relieved me of cow-watching duties.”
“So you didn’t bring her back to Harley yourself?”
“No. Though now I have to wonder if Harley might still be alive if I had.”
Claire took hold of Jakob’s forearm and turned him. “Stop that. Harley was in the middle of the maze when I found him. You and I both know that even if you had been on his farm as much as an hour or so earlier, it wouldn’t have made a difference.”
“Claire is right, Jakob. There is only one person to blame for what happened to Harley. And with you on the case, that person will be in jail soon.”
Claire saw Jakob swallow once, twice, and knew his thoughts had moved on to his father, the lines around his eyes deepening by the second. She rushed to change the subject. “So how could two cows go loose in less than a week?”
“Holes, I think.”
Jakob’s focus snapped back toward Diane. “Holes?”
“That’s the only reason I can figure those cows would keep getting out. That or he failed to secure his fence on a near-daily basis. He laughed it off most days, saying his girls could use a little change of scenery once in a while. But he lost valuable work hours every time he had to go round one up and walk it home.”
“Well, then, I guess I’ll be doing a little fence patching myself come morning.” Jakob retrieved his coat from the armrest and slipped it on, the smile he flashed at first Diane and then Claire stopping just short of his eyes. “I can’t thank you enough for dinner tonight. It was delicious.”
“You’re welcome anytime, Jakob.”
“Thank you, Diane.” Turning to Claire, he hooked his thumb toward the front hallway. “Walk me out?”
She fell into step beside him, an unending lineup of unasked questions filtering through her thoughts as she did. “I was kind of hoping we’d have a little time alone this evening.”
Jakob stopped halfway across the entryway and turned, his brow cocked upward in restrained surprise. “Oh?”
“I . . . I’ve been worried about you. How are you holding up?”
He raked a hand through his crop of blond hair and stepped closer to Claire. “Aww, man, I never called you back this morning, did I?” At her half head shake, half shrug, he reached for her hand and held it gingerly inside his own. “I got the message from the dispatcher but I was out at the crime scene most of the morning . . . hoping to find something, anything, that will keep me from having to question my father.”
“It’ll be okay, Jakob.”
“Last night, in my bed, I tried to tell myself that same thing. Even managed to do a fairly decent job convincing myself, too. But then, out a
t the scene this morning, I realized I was being naïve when Amish men—men who have known my father for years—are whispering my father’s name in conjunction with news of Harley’s murder.”
“Benjamin said something to that effect this morning.” As soon as the words left her mouth she regretted them. Jakob was a fair man and a good detective, but when it came to the mere mention of Eli’s older brother, he reverted back to memories of a childhood where he’d never measured up to Isaiah Miller’s boy. The fact that it was Jakob’s own father holding the yardstick only made it all the more painful.
“You spoke to Ben this morning?”
“He’d heard what happened at the maze and he wanted to make sure I was okay.”
Rolling his eyes, Jakob released her hand and stepped back. “Anything else?”
“Not really. He’s convinced your father had nothing to do with what happened to Harley Zook, though.”
“From what I gathered this morning, he might be one of the only Amish in Heavenly to believe that.” Like a balloon that had suddenly met its fate against a needle, Jakob’s shoulders sunk in defeat. “I don’t know how to do this, Claire. I don’t know how to find the answers I need without confronting a man who wants nothing to do with me.”
This time it was Claire who reached for Jakob’s hand and held it tightly. “I’m here to help in any way I can. I could talk to Mose, I could ask Esther and Eli some more questions if you’d like, or I could simply listen when you need to vent. Just let me know what you need and I’ll be happy to do whatever I can to help.”
She glanced up only to look away at the intensity she saw in his eyes. Had she said too much? Tipped her hand—whatever hand that was—too far?
“How are you with patching fences?” he finally asked.
“Excuse me?”
“When I left the Amish, Harley Zook was the only member of the community who refused to turn his back on me. The least I can do—aside from finding his killer—is look in on his cows until a new owner is found.”
Shunned and Dangerous (An Amish Mystery) Page 5
