Shunned and Dangerous (An Amish Mystery)

by Bradford, Laura

  Behind Howard and waiting expectantly for his turn to order was Al Gussman, the proprietor of Gussman’s General Store and the landlord for most of the buildings along Lighted Way, including Claire’s. He’d always been a nice man, yet she couldn’t help but wonder if she’d see a different side when she told him she needed to break her lease nearly six months early.

  Next in line was Sandra Moffit, the owner of Tastes of Heaven(ly), the quaint eatery on the far side of the street. Like its sister eatery, Shoo Fly Bake Shoppe, the café was a popular spot for tourists craving authentic Amish dishes. For Ruth, the pies and treats she baked were made from simple recipes she’d tasted and helped make her whole life. For Sandra, the restaurant-style food she served in her café was based on years of research and trial and error about a facet of the American population that had intrigued her since childhood.

  Directly in front of Claire was Drew Styles, the mostly absent owner of Glorious Books, the new bookstore that had opened next to Yoder’s Fine Furniture the previous month. The shop had been an instant draw much to the delight of both Drew and his fellow Lighted Way business owners who’d been around long enough to recognize the fact that the success of one had a positive effect on all. Assuming, of course, their shops weren’t so far gone any benefit was swallowed up whole . . .

  She tapped Drew on the back, raising his answering smile with one of her own. “Good morning, Drew, it’s nice to see you. How are things going?”

  “Hi, Claire. They’re going quite well, thank you.” Drew jerked his left hand upward to call her attention to the briefcase he held. “Now that it’s wedding season around here, you’ll be seeing me on this line every Tuesday and Thursday morning. My wife, Jolene, calls my morning cup of joe my sunshine maker. In fact, if you listen to her, the United States Coast Guard should send out storm warnings to all sailors in the vicinity of anywhere if I miss a day.”

  “I’d be just as bad if it weren’t for the smells I wake up to every morning. It’s hard to wake up in anything other than a happy mood when there’s such amazing food at the ready one floor down.”

  “Did your aunt take the morning off?”

  She laughed. “Why? Do I look that grumpy?”

  He waved away her lighthearted concern with a flick of his free hand. “Nah, just tired is all. Like the rest of us.”

  It wasn’t a surprise, really. Especially in light of the way she’d tossed and turned throughout the night thinking about Isaac and Jakob’s shared anguish. To Drew, she merely offered a shrugged agreement before taking the conversation back a step to the first glimmer of hope she’d had for a turnaround in weeks. “Are we expecting a bigger rush in conjunction with wedding season? Is that why you’ll be coming in on those days?”

  Sandra turned. “The Amish tend not to work on Tuesdays and Thursdays during this time of year. Which is why, I suspect, both Samuel and Ruth will not open today. Those of us who employ Amish help simply know we’ll be short staffed on those days.”

  “Esther never said anything about not coming in today,” Claire offered while trying not to let her shoulders sag too noticeably. So much for a glimmer of hope . . . “In fact, she made a point of telling me she’d be in today.”

  “Then she must not have a wedding to attend.” Sandra let out a happy sigh as Howard took his coffee, instantly moving her to second in line. “Sometimes that happens, though it’s rare.”

  “There are that many weddings in Heavenly each week?”

  “No. Sometimes they’re in other Amish communities in other parts of the state. If it’s not too far, they take their buggies. If it is, they hire drivers.” Sandra split her focus between Claire and Drew behind her, and Al in front of her—her words tossed over her shoulder in their direction when necessary. “You should drive past an Amish home when there’s a wedding sometime. The line of buggies goes on and on and on. Then again, you’ll be seeing what might be an even longer line when that man’s body is finally released and they hold his funeral.”

  “Man?” she echoed before answering her own question. “Wait, you mean Harley Zook?”

  “Crying shame what happened to that fella,” Drew murmured. “You don’t expect something like that to happen in these parts. The two images just don’t go together, do they?”

  Indeed they didn’t.

  As Al’s order was filled and Sandra stepped forward, Claire found herself slipping into her own thoughts only to be snapped out of them by the jangle of bells over her shoulder. Turning around, she smiled at the face that had been absent from the dinner table the night before. “Megan, hi! How was your day with Kyle yesterday? Did you guys have fun?”

  The young mother took her spot in line behind Claire. “Oh, Claire, it was perfect. We spent hours poking in and out of the stores. We tried that bakery you mentioned and it was out of this world. Then, before dinner, we took a walk out toward the Amish farms. When we were done, we came back and had dinner at”—Megan pointed at the front of the line—“that woman’s café. It was delicious. Everything we did, everything we tried, was perfect. Including the coffee from this place.”

  “I’m glad. I kind of knew you’d have a good day here.” Claire kept her focus on Megan even as she stepped forward in line to accommodate Sandra’s successful coffee purchase. “So”—she looked around—“where’s Kyle this morning?”

  Megan hoisted her cavernous purse higher on her shoulder. “His new boss called him into the office today to go over some upcoming project. It’s not the end of the world, though, because it means I have a little window for exploring.”

  “There are great outlet stores in Breeze Point,” Claire offered. “It’s no more than maybe a thirty-minute drive and they have basically every store you could want there. It’s a favorite day trip for many of Diane’s guests throughout the year.”

  “Kyle suggested the same thing after breakfast this morning but . . . well, I have different plans.”

  She felt her eyebrows rise. “Oh?”

  Megan nodded and lowered her voice. “If I mention those Amish lots one more time to Kyle, I think he’s going to have me fit for a muzzle. But, since he’s not here today, I can give them one more look and see if maybe we could make it work.”

  Drew pulled out his wallet and placed a five-dollar bill on the counter signaling the completion of his purchase and Claire’s turn to order. She glanced back at Megan. “A second look is always good, right?”

  “That’s what I think. Kyle, however, doesn’t agree. Not for these lots, anyway. But maybe it’ll be different today. Maybe Friday was a fluke.”

  Claire tried to focus on Megan’s words, tried to nod accordingly, but as soon as Drew’s lid was in place, her attention needed to be on the barista. “Maybe . . .”

  “If you have a little time later today, do you think you could meet me out there and tell me what you think?” Megan asked, her bright blue eyes wide with unrestrained hope. “Another opinion would really help get this place out of my head once and for all. Which, in turn, would make Kyle happy.”

  “Uh, I guess. If you think that would help.” Claire stepped back to give Drew exit room and then slid into his spot, the promise of coffee making her mouth water. Within seconds her request was being poured into a waiting to-go cup. “What time are you thinking about meeting? I could probably do something in the neighborhood of three, maybe four o’clock?”

  The woman did a slight hop of pleasure, instantly chasing away any reservation Claire was feeling about the added task for her day. “Four would be great. Do you know where it is?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  Megan angled her body toward the coffee shop’s front window and motioned with her hand toward the main thoroughfare that was Lighted Way. “Take this road all the way out past the Amish farms until you get to the end. Make a left and the entrance to the development will be right there. It’s just a dirt road right now as there aren’t any homes yet, but that’s where I’ll be at four o’clock.”

  “Then
that’s where I’ll meet you.” Claire turned back to the counter, swapping her money and a thank-you for the now-ready cup of coffee. Then, nodding back at Megan, she headed toward the tiny seating area in the front of the shop to check the phone she’d felt vibrating inside her purse while paying.

  Setting her coffee down momentarily, Claire retrieved her phone and flipped it open, the missed call icon leading her to Jakob’s name and number. A quick check of her voice mail box showed he didn’t leave a message.

  She called his number and waited as the phone rang, once, twice, three times.

  He picked up. “Detective Fisher.”

  “Hi, Jakob, it’s me, Claire.” She did her best to ignore the butterflies that flapped in her stomach in reaction to his voice. She was hopeless, utterly and completely hopeless . . . “I noticed you tried to call. Is everything okay?”

  “I just wanted to check in and say thanks for the talk last night. Aside from the prevailing subject of that talk, it was nice spending time together.”

  She swallowed.

  “Anyway, I’d hoped to get out to Zook’s place and follow up on everything Isaac said last night, but my morning has turned into a bit of a juggling act.”

  She seized the safe ground of Jakob’s words and reined in the odd emotions coursing through her body—emotions she wasn’t ready to try and analyze. “What’s going on?”

  “For starters, Harley’s body will be released later today, which means the viewing will start either at his farm or that of one of the other members of his district probably as soon as this evening.”

  “Will you attend?” she asked.

  “I doubt that would go over all that well.” Then, moving on quickly, he switched gears toward a subject with far fewer personal ties. “Then, on top of that, we got a call last night from Rita Duggan. Seems Patrick was acting up. By the time our officers got out there, he had fallen asleep. I need to get some more information on what happened to make her call us. See if it might lead back to the investigation in any way.”

  She waved as Megan exited the coffee shop, the mere sight of the woman giving way to a plan. “I have to head out past Harley’s farm later this afternoon to meet one of Diane’s guests. I could stop there first to make sure no more cows have escaped, and, while I’m there, maybe see if I spy one of those signs your brother was talking about last night.” She lifted her cup to her lips and took a quick sip, the bold flavor, coupled with her suggestion, chasing away the last of her morning fog. “I mean, if it’s okay with you, of course.”

  Chapter 14

  For the second time in as many days, Claire found herself staring at the run-down farmhouse that had been home to Harley Zook. Even now, she was still shocked by its appearance. She supposed there could be something to the notion of a person in a particular field of work not wanting to have anything to do with that same kind of work off the clock, but still. How hard could it have been to tack down a few roof shingles, or tighten an ill-fitting door?

  Especially when it was obvious he’d taken such good care of the dairy barn and just about everything else pertaining to the cows who shared his address.

  A soft tap at the driver’s side window made her nearly jump out of her skin. Jerking her head to the left, she willed her heart rate to slow as she took in the teenaged Amish boy standing just outside her door. She stepped from the car, scrunching her nose and extending her hand as she did. “Hi. I’m Claire. Claire Weatherly.”

  “Yah.”

  If the pervasive smell of spoiled milk bothered the young man, he kept it to himself. She, however, switched to a mouth-only breath that required its fair share of concentration. “And you are?”

  “Luke Hochstetler. I live on the other side of Lapp.” It was such a simple reply yet told her everything she needed to know. The young boy bowed his head ever so slightly, a grim set to his mouth visible beneath the brim of his hat. “Mr. Zook is not here, Ms. Weatherly. He has passed.”

  She glanced at the farmhouse and then back at Luke. “I know. I’m the one who found him in the corn maze.” At his widened eyes, she continued. “So what brings you out here, Luke? Are you looking after Harley’s place?”

  “I’m looking after his cows. Dat is hoping we may get some of them.” Luke looped the fingers of his left hand around one of his suspenders and nudged his chin in the direction of the barn. “One of my sisters wants Mary, the other one wants Molly. Dat just wants fresh milk.”

  She laughed, the sound diffusing the last of the tension ushered in by the teenager’s surprise appearance. The wants and needs of the Amish were so humble, so straightforward. “So how are they holding up?” At the uncertain rise to his brow, she swept her hand toward the barn. “The cows. Are they doing okay?”

  “It is easy for them to be okay.” Luke grinned. “Dat brought my brothers here when they had finished with their morning chores. He wanted to show them how a mucked stall should look. I do not think they will complain again.”

  “They’re that clean?”

  “Yah. Even now, four days later, they are cleaner than most. And Dat said Mr. Zook did that with no sons to help. My brothers felt shame for their efforts.” Luke rubbed his hand along his jaw, a motion he’d probably seen his father make countless times. “Dat said we could chase cows, though.”

  “Chase cows?” she repeated. “I’m sorry, I’m not following.”

  “If we get some of Mr. Zook’s cows, we will not have such a fence as that.” Luke’s hand left his jaw to guide her eyes toward the pasture. “Dat has sons who can fetch a loose cow.”

  “That’s probably smart considering the fact that a fence like that still couldn’t keep Harley’s cows where they belonged.” Then, at Luke’s knowing smile, she said, “I met Mary on Friday night. She was hoping to be milked.”

  “I milked her and brought her home.”

  She tried not to think about that night—a night that had started out so light and fun yet ended as far from those two adjectives as one could get. “It’s almost as if Mary was searching for Harley.”

  Luke shook his head. “Nah. Cows do not know such things. Mr. Zook took care of his cows like children, Mamm said. But they are not. They are cows . . . with fancy names.”

  She hadn’t really considered the fact that Harley lived alone until that moment, the loss of his brother sixteen years earlier coming a decade after the death of his wife—a woman unable to have children, according to Diane. Yet, according to Jakob and her aunt, Harley had been a cheerful man, offering forgiveness and work to his brother’s killer’s son and relentlessly trying to open Mose Fisher’s closed mind in regards to Jakob. It was a sad twist of irony to think that one of those kindnesses may have ultimately led to the man’s demise . . .

  “Will your family sell the milk for cheese, too?” she asked.

  “Dat will purchase a bulk cooling tank with an agitator. That way we can sell for a higher price.”

  She allowed herself one quick nose breath, realizing her error almost immediately. “I’m sure your neighbors will be grateful.”

  “I must go. Dat will be looking for me if I do not get back. There is much work to do at our own farm before sunset.” Then, with a nod of his head, Luke was gone, his pale blue shirt and black pants the last two things Claire could see before the teenager disappeared around a bend in the driveway.

  Suddenly, she was all too aware of being alone, the knowledge that Harley’s beloved cows were mere steps away doing little to soothe the sense of unease Luke’s departure had set in motion. Yet, as little comfort as their presence provided, she found herself moving in the direction of the barn, nonetheless.

  Once inside the large doors, she was able to breathe a little easier thanks to the thick walls of the well-constructed barn and a potpourri of new smells including cows, lots of cows. A quick mental count showed that there were two dozen bright-eyed Holsteins, all looking at her as if she could solve the many mysteries of the world, or at least the only one they cared to truly know.
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br />   It was an answer she wished she didn’t have to give.

  Squaring her shoulders, she approached the first cow she came to, a large black-and-white animal with the kind of thick eyelashes most women would envy. She checked the small wooden sign above the cow and addressed her accordingly. “Well, hello there, Mavis. Did Luke take good care of you just now?” Mavis’s mouth moved round and round, her focus never leaving Claire’s face. “I wish I could tell you Harley will be back, sweetie, but I can’t. All I can do is tell you that Jakob won’t rest until he figures out who did this to him and why.”

  Slowly, she reached out, stroked a hand down the side of the animal’s face, her touch unable to alter the rhythm of its mouth. She wished Mavis could understand her words, perhaps even give voice to whatever the animal was thinking behind those big, soulful eyes.

  “Have a good day, okay?” she whispered in farewell as she moved down the line, passing Molly, Mindy, and Mandy before finally reaching the latest escapee, Mary. “Remember me? I met you on the side of the road a few days ago.”

  Like Mavis, Mary worked her mouth round and round in response, giving Claire a few moments to look around at the rest of the barn. Like its other Amish counterparts, the dairy barn was simple, yet spacious, the walls and doors constructed by those to whom hard labor was second nature. Here, though, things were even tidier than normal, as if the care and comfort of the animals not only claimed the top spot on the daily to-do list but every other spot as well.

  She swatted a pesky fly off Mary’s ear then wandered across the barn to inspect an odd swath of white paint to the left of the door. As she approached, she spied a second, bigger swath no more than ten feet from the first—the similar stroke pattern making her wonder whether Harley had been testing a paint color and found that he needed better light with which to make his final decision.