A Killer Carol

by Laura Bradford

  Was it?

  Maybe.

  Then again, maybe not. Maybe—

  “Sometimes at church, Dat asks me to sit next to Mary and be her ears.”

  Sliding her hand over the phone, Claire leaned closer to her aunt. “Do we happen to have some cookies, by any chance?”

  Diane cocked her left eyebrow. “Is that a question you even need to ask, dear?”

  “Any of the Christmas-y ones left from the other day?” she clarified.

  At the nod she sought, Claire removed her hand. “Annie, come. Please. I think we could all use a little pick-me-up right about now, don’t you?”

  Chapter 3

  She’d just finished tacking up the final piece of garland across the back wall when the jingle of the door-mounted bell alerted her to the arrival of a customer. Stepping down onto the carpet, Claire double-checked the greenery’s evenness in relation to the red bow she’d affixed to the center and then nudged the step stool out of tripping range. “Welcome to Heavenly Treasures,” she said, turning. “I’m Claire, and I’m happy to help if—”

  “There was never a day I did not enjoy working here with you. Spring, summer, fall, it did not matter. But this time of year was always my most favorite.”

  “Esther? Is that you?”

  Claire’s former employee-turned-best-friend stepped fully into view, her sweet grin brightening the room more than any holiday decoration ever could. “Yah, it is me, and”—Esther’s sparkling eyes dropped to the carefully bundled mound in her arms—“Sarah.”

  Squealing, Claire fast-stepped her way to the door, her gaze ricocheting between Esther and the sleeping infant. “Ohhhh, sweet, sweet little Sarah . . . I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you today . . .”

  “It was not so long ago that you would smile because I came for a visit,” Esther said, relinquishing her infant daughter into Claire’s ready arms. “Now, it is Sarah who you are happy to see.”

  Claire planted a gentle kiss on the baby’s softly puckered cheeks and then fixed her attention on the child’s young mother. “Now, now, Esther Miller. I still get every bit as excited to see you. It’s just that . . . Well . . .” Her cheeks warming, she peeked again at the baby. “I mean, look at her. She’s just so cute. And soft. And . . . wonderful.”

  Mindful of the pride she should not voice, Esther nibbled back her answering smile and, instead, cast the amber-flecked eyes she shared with her uncle Jakob toward the toes of her black lace-up boots. After a beat or two of silence, she returned her gaze to Claire’s and the shop around them. “It all looks so pretty,” Esther said, sweeping her hands toward the garland. “It will bring many customers, I am sure.”

  “I hope so. I haven’t started on the ornament tree yet, but now that the garland is on the counter and across the back wall, that’s really all that’s left to do.”

  Esther cocked her ear toward the back hallway and listened for a moment. “Are you working alone today?”

  “Annie will be here at noon.”

  “That will give you time to do the rest.”

  Claire shrugged. “If I didn’t have work to do back in the office, yes. But since I do, I’m taking advantage of the intermittent lull in customers to do as much of the decorating as I can now.” Sliding her glance back to the garland, she smiled. “And it’s coming along if I do say so myself. Now, if only the tree will go as well . . .”

  “It will, if you do not do that silly thing you do with your eyes.”

  Sarah stirred at Claire’s quiet laugh. “You sound like my aunt Diane.”

  “Because it is true.”

  “I know, I know. But I can’t seem to stop myself. That’s why I moved the tree to the last thing on my to-do list.”

  “So you will not squint?” Esther asked.

  “No, so I can.”

  Esther’s eyebrows rose nearly to the patch of hair just barely visible along the front edge of her kapp. “I do not understand why you do such a thing when it makes you so . . . so . . .”

  “Crazy?”

  “Yah.”

  “Well, as infuriating as it can be at times, I like to do the squint test. It makes the tree prettier, which, in turn, makes me happier. But I have a feeling even that won’t shake off the sadness that’s come from—oh . . . Esther . . . I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t be talking about trees and decorating, or any of that stuff.” She stopped, pulled her right hand out from under the baby, and gently squeezed Esther’s forearm. “How are you and Eli holding up? Did you know them well?”

  Confusion traded places with understanding as Esther removed her mittens and set them on the counter. “You speak of Daniel and Mary Esch, yah?”

  At Claire’s nod, Esther wiggled out of her coat to reveal an aproned emerald green dress. “Eli told me of their passing this morning. Bishop Hershberger stopped by with the news as Eli was filling the water troughs.”

  “Did you know them well?” Claire pointed toward the pair of stools on the other side of the counter and, when Esther sat, took the vacant one for herself and the baby.

  “I remember them as kind when I was growing up. Mary always took time to ask about my quilts, and Daniel was helpful to my dat and many of the others in our district. Even though he was not a farmer, he knew many things. When Eli and I married, Daniel gave us a wagon he did not use anymore. It was a blessing, of course, but so, too, was the time we spent with them, listening and learning.” Esther leaned back against the counter’s edge and pursed her lips through a long, drawn-out exhale. “At first, when Eli told me they’d gone to be with God, I was sad. I could not picture a church service without them. But it was God’s will for Mary and Daniel to go together, and I think that is the way they would have wanted it to be.”

  Claire let Esther’s words sink in, the image they created sending her thoughts far beyond the confines of her shop. “Wow. I hadn’t thought about it that way, I guess. I just thought how sad it was for their family to lose them at the same time. But what you just said? About them going together? It’s hard not to see that as a little bit comforting, as well.”

  “Yah, I hope that will bring Ruth and Samuel comfort, too.”

  A memory she couldn’t quite grab on to retreated as fast as it had come, and she snapped her focus back to her friend. “Ruth and Samuel? They were close to Mary and Daniel?”

  “I am sure it was for them the way it is for Eli and me. The wedding gift is helpful, of course, but so, too, is the learning you get when you visit.”

  “I think that’s why I’ve always enjoyed spending time with the guests at the inn. Many of them are older, and you learn so much about life when you simply listen to them speak,” Claire mused.

  “Yah.” Esther reached up and fingered an errant strand of brown hair back inside her kapp. “It was while sharing pie and cookies with so many in their homes during the visits after our wedding that we got to know friends in ways we did not know when we were younger. And we learned things—helpful things from everyone. Especially Daniel and Mary Esch.”

  “How so?”

  “It is because of Daniel that Eli thought to get a sturdier buggy horse before Sarah was born. It is because of Mary that I take Sarah for a walk before she is to nap—she naps longer when I do.”

  Sure enough, when Claire looked down at Sarah, the child showed no signs of waking. “I have to admit, I kind of wish she’d wake up just so I can hear her gurgle and coo the way she does.”

  Esther grinned. “But it is when she naps that I get my inside chores done. If she did not nap, I would get nothing done.”

  “A small price to pay.”

  “Yah. But Eli would have no dinner, and we would not have clean clothes to wear.” Esther parted company with the edge of the counter, kissed her daughter’s soft skin, and stood, her boots taking her around the shop in much the way they had when she, rather than Annie, had been in
Claire’s employ. “I know how close I felt to Mary and Daniel after Eli and I visited. I am sure Ruth felt the same way after her visit. But our visit was last year. Hers was”—Esther stopped midway across the room and turned back to Claire—“yesterday.”

  “Yesterday?” she echoed, only to roll her eyes upward. “Oh, that’s right! I’d forgotten.”

  Esther nodded. “Daniel and Mary must have gone to the Lord not long after Ruth and Samuel headed back home in their bug—”

  The quick jingle of the front door brought Claire to her feet in anticipation of the tourist or group of tourists she expected to see. Instead, Jakob Fisher stepped inside, breathed into his fisted hands, and then dropped them to his side as his gaze slipped from Claire’s to the baby in her arms. “Is that who I think it is?” he asked, stepping forward.

  Before she could answer or even nod, the handsome detective closed the gap between them, the troubled expression she’d managed to register within seconds of his arrival bowing just as quickly to the smile now spreading across his face. “Well, hello, my sweet girl,” he whispered. “It’s your great uncle . . . Jakob.”

  Claire followed his gaze to the baby before meeting it, once again, with her own. “You look tired, Jakob. Are you okay?”

  “It’s been a long night.” He took in the baby one more time and then pulled Claire in for a one-armed hug and a lingering kiss to her temple. “You should have told me you were babysitting. I’d have found a way to get over here sooner.”

  She noted the bloodshot eyes, the disheveled hair, the uncharacteristic stubble along his jawline . . . “Not babysitting. Just soaking her up while I visit with her beautiful mamm here . . .”

  “Her beautiful—” Jakob swallowed the rest of his words as, guided by Claire’s chin, he glanced to the left. “Esther! Hello! I’m sorry, I didn’t see you standing there just now. How are you? How’s Eli? How . . .” He stopped, cleared his throat, and strode over to his niece. “How’s my sister taking the news about Mary and Daniel Esch? Like me, she grew up knowing them. Unlike me, however, she’d been able to maintain contact in the years since.”

  The familiar red tint that always accompanied the first few moments of contact between Esther and her once Amish uncle disappeared from her cheeks with a few deep breaths and a sweeping glance out the shop’s front window. When she was sure no one from her church district was visible, she spoke. “Eli and I stopped by with the baby to see her after Bishop Hershberger’s visit. Mamm and Dat were sad to hear such news, of course, but they, too, know it is God’s will.”

  Jakob started to speak but stopped, his mouth tight.

  “Jakob?” Claire prodded. “Is everything okay? You—”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t call last night.” He raked a hand through his sandy blond hair, finding a smile—albeit a forced one—as he did. “Things were a little crazy.”

  “I understand. Aunt Diane and I were on the porch last night. We saw the police lights.” She closed the gap between them and, at Esther’s nod of encouragement, placed the still sleeping child in the detective’s arms. “Then Annie called and told us what was going on, so I knew you’d be tied up for a while.”

  His face softened as he took in his great niece. “Still am, actually,” he said, his voice hushed. “According to what we know from the medical examiner’s initial assessment, time of death was around four o’clock—about three hours before Annie and her friends showed up to carol.”

  “Is that for Mary or for Daniel?”

  Lifting his gaze, he pinned Claire’s. “Both.”

  “Wow . . . So what you see in the movies and read in books sometimes is actually true? People who spend a lifetime at each other’s side really can go within minutes of each other?” She rubbed her arms against a sudden and unexpected chill. “That’s both heartbreaking and beautiful all at the same—”

  “Poor Ruth,” Esther said from behind her hand. “Now she will really wonder if there was something she could have done to help them.”

  Jakob’s chin snapped to the left, putting his niece in his sights. “Did you say Ruth?”

  “Yah.”

  “As in Ruth Miller?”

  “She is Ruth Yoder now,” Esther reminded.

  He seemed to weigh the information in his head before handing the baby back to his niece. “Why would Ruth think she could have done something to help Daniel and Mary? Were they close?”

  “She and Samuel were at Daniel and Mary’s farm yesterday. Visiting.”

  He stared at Esther. “Yesterday?”

  “Yah. To receive their wedding present.”

  “Do you know when—what time?” he asked, his voice sharp.

  “It was yesterday.”

  “I get that. But . . .” His words petered out briefly as he paused to take in Esther’s. “Yesterday was Sunday.”

  Clearly confused by Jakob’s attitude shift, Esther’s arms tightened around her daughter. “Bishop Hershberger was at his other district, so it was our visiting Sunday.”

  “Did you see Samuel’s buggy at the Esch farm?”

  “No. But I know they were to go there,” Esther said. “Ruth told me so when I saw her on Saturday morning. She stopped by with a pie and to see the baby.”

  Jakob reached inside his front shirt pocket and extracted the tiny notebook he often kept tucked inside. “Do you know when, exactly, Ruth and Samuel would have been at the Esch farm?”

  Esther traded glances with Claire. “I . . . I cannot say for sure. Only that Ruth was bringing a pie when she went—an apple pie because she said it was Mary’s favorite.”

  “So maybe lunchtime or shortly thereafter?”

  “Jakob?” Claire set her hand atop his arm. “What’s this about? These questions . . .”

  “Knowing the time of their visit would be something”—he waved his hand toward Esther—“to go on . . . a starting point.”

  The familiar fingers of dread began to make their way up Claire’s spine. “Starting point? Starting point for what?”

  “My investigation.”

  Her ensuing gasp, a few beats before Esther’s, echoed around the shop, officially waking Sarah from her peaceful slumber. “Your investigation?” Claire echoed. “Into what?”

  “Into the murders of Daniel and Mary Esch.”

  Chapter 4

  Claire?”

  Pausing her index finger atop the minus sign, Claire redirected her attention toward her office doorway and the Amish teenager standing rather uncertainly inside it. “What’s up, kiddo?”

  “I am sorry to bother you, but Benjamin is here, and I think perhaps he would like to speak with you?”

  “Ben’s here? In the shop?” At Annie’s nod, Claire pushed aside the calculator and stretched her arms above her head. “Absolutely. Just send him on back.”

  “I think he wants you to come inside the shop.”

  Stopping, mid-yawn, she stared at the girl. “Is there something wrong?”

  Annie glanced over her shoulder before modulating her voice to a level only Claire could hear. “I do not know. When he came in a little while ago, he asked after you. I told him that you are in here and that you are working on the consignment envelopes. I asked if he wanted me to get you, but he said no.”

  “Okay . . .”

  Again, Annie peeked in the direction she’d come. “For twenty minutes now he has walked back and forth in many areas, whispering things to himself. But when I ask if I can help, it is as if he does not hear me.”

  “Is he alone?”

  “Yah.” Annie gestured toward the two distinct stacks of envelopes on Claire’s desk. “I did not want to disturb you when I know you have much work to do. But I thought maybe, if you ask to help, he will answer.”

  The chair creaked as she stood. “You did the right thing, Annie. This stuff”—she waved at the envelopes still waitin
g to be filled with money—“can wait a little while. Friends can’t.”

  “I knew you would say such a thing.” Turning, Annie led the way out of the office, only to stop and gesture toward the broom resting against the wall. “Perhaps it would be a good time for me to sweep the front porch.”

  Claire started to protest, but after a quick glance at the hatted man slowly pacing around her shop, she reached inside her front pocket, extracted a five-dollar bill, and pressed it into Annie’s hand. “When you’re done, why don’t you poke your head in next door and get us a couple of cookies—your choice. I’ve got a headache brewing and I could use the sugar boost.”

  “I will get chocolate chip. Those make you smile most.”

  “You think so, huh?”

  “I know so.” Grinning, Annie grabbed her simple black coat from the hook, slipped it on, and ducked outside, broom in tow.

  For a moment, Claire simply stood there, watching as the girl methodically swept each step before disappearing toward the front of the shop to tackle the front porch and its own set of stairs. From where she stood, she could just make out the side of Shoo Fly Bake Shoppe, the Amish bakery that served as the opposing bookend to their shared alleyway. Prior to Ruth’s wedding to Samuel, Ruth had run the popular tourist stop almost entirely on her own save for the several-times-a-day visit from either her twin brother and Esther’s husband, Eli, or her older brother Benjamin. Since her wedding, Eli and Benjamin still stopped by periodically to make sure things were running smoothly at the family-owned business, but now it was Esther’s younger sister, Hannah, who baked the majority of the offerings and manned the counter during shop hours.

  As Esther had been when she’d worked for Claire, Hannah was determined to do her best at all times. She’d spent hours working with Ruth before the wedding, learning to bake many of the shop’s most sought-after desserts. When those had been mastered, the teenager had added in a few of her own specialties, like toffees, homemade sucking candies, and hand-dipped caramels.