Murder Simply Brewed

by Vannetta Chapman

  Mattie sat beside her, swinging her feet and clutching a pencil she had been using on a tablet their mother brought to help the youngest in the family through Sunday services.

  Feeling Hannah’s eyes on her, Mattie gazed up at her sister. Then she yawned once and snuggled in close.

  Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, since as members of one body you were called to peace.

  That was why she hadn’t been able to sleep well. She hadn’t felt any of the peace described in Paul’s letter. Instead she’d spent all night troubled and worried and anxious.

  Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts . . . Amon was talking about the choices they made, choices to embrace peace or chaos.

  Her life was certainly chaotic at the moment. But how could it be helped? She hadn’t asked for Ethan to die. She certainly hadn’t asked to be the one to find him, but somehow she was caught up in searching for clues. That had felt like the right thing to do a few days ago, but now she wasn’t so sure. How many more sleepless nights could she endure?

  Before she could answer any of those questions, they were once again kneeling and praying, then standing and singing. She went through the motions even while her mind struggled with the Scripture they had read.

  When the service dismissed, Mattie stood on the bench and threw her arms around Hannah’s neck. “Up, Hannah.”

  “You can walk!”

  “Up!” Mattie put one hand on each side of Hannah’s face and squeezed. “Up!”

  “Stubborn, aren’t you?”

  “She gets that honest.” Eunice gathered up her Bible and the wrap she’d worn while walking between their buggy and Amon’s shop.

  Usually they held church in someone’s home, but occasionally it worked out better to have the service in a member’s place of business. Amon had a large bay on the south side of his shop where buggies were in different stages of repair. During church services, he would move the buggies to the sides of the giant room, all in a line, so that it looked as if they were about to go out visiting—one after the other.

  “Well, she didn’t get her stubbornness from me.”

  “Don’t be so sure. Some things are inherited. Other things are learned. Mattie looks up to you and wants to imitate everything about you—from the color of your dress to the mood you’re in.”

  “Are you saying I’m moody today, Mamm?”

  “I’m saying to remember there are often little eyes on you.” And then Eunice was gone, joining the other ladies who were setting out casseroles, plates of sliced ham, large bowls of chicken salad, fresh breads, and desserts.

  Hannah hugged Mattie and then placed her on the ground. When Mattie began to whine, Hannah caught her little hand and tugged her toward the large bay doors. They’d been opened when the service was over, and sunlight poured into the area where they’d worshiped. “Let’s go out and play. Some of your freinden will be here.”

  Mattie’s mood improved at the word play. She began to skip to the door, which was when Hannah looked up and saw Jesse standing there waiting for her.

  They walked out into the late morning sunshine. The fields and grass appeared to be quite muddy, but the parking area was relatively dry. Most of the children were gathered there—some playing games, others chasing one another, and the oldest of them talking in small groups.

  “You looked kind of worried in there, Hannah-Bell.”

  Hannah stopped dead in her tracks. Jesse hadn’t called her that nickname in years.

  “Something wrong?” He reached for Mattie’s other hand and continued walking toward the group of small kids.

  Instead of answering, Hannah asked how his sister was doing.

  “Gut. As you can see, she’s not too happy about having to slow down.”

  Teresa was sitting on the front steps of the shop’s porch, which wrapped away from the bay doors, around the front and down one side of the building. She wore a giant black shoe that extended up to her knee. Even from a distance, Hannah could see she was pouting.

  “Perhaps it’s hurting her today.”

  “Maybe. Or maybe she wants to play tag but is afraid my parents will see. They gave her a long talking-to last night, reminded her she needed to act like a girl and not like a young colt.”

  “I imagine that went over well.”

  “Not exactly.” They had walked to the middle of what was becoming a playground. Mattie spied a giant yellow ball and went running off to claim it. “So what gives? I could see you were miserable from my side of the room.”

  “It was that obvious?”

  Jesse nodded and waited for her to answer. But how could she answer? How could she explain this uneasiness that upset her stomach and stole her sleep?

  “Life was easier when I was twenty-one.”

  “Is that so?”

  “It is, and you can stop laughing at me, Jesse Miller.”

  “Didn’t laugh.”

  “But you wanted to.”

  “I’ll admit to that.”

  Somehow his mood helped to brighten hers, or perhaps it was being outside after the dark storm of the day before.

  “All Amon’s talk of peace, it made me narrisch. If I could buy peace at the general store, I’d happily do so.”

  “Peace is something within, not without. Can’t put it in a shopping cart.”

  “Now you sound like Amon! And when did you become so wise?”

  Jesse ran his hand down his jaw, pausing to rub his fingers over a small cut. Had he nicked himself shaving? When did Jesse become a man? she wondered again. He’d always been her best friend. The changes in him, in them, were confusing.

  “I believe it was a week ago last Tuesday. Yes, that was the day I put aside foolishness and became wise.”

  “Wasn’t it this week you fell in the pond at the Village?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Doesn’t sound wise to me.”

  “I was trying to step out of the way of one of our new guests, a mystery guest. Didn’t realize I was so near the edge until it was too late. The guest thought the pond might contain a clue and asked if I’d mind swimming around for him while I was there.”

  “A likely story.”

  “A true story.”

  “Which brings us back to my point—we don’t work at a very peaceful place. We did, but now we don’t!”

  Jesse reached for her hand, and they walked over to where Mattie had sat down on the concrete. Fortunately it had dried in the morning sun. Someone had given her a piece of sidewalk chalk, and she was attempting to draw on the pavement.

  “The things at the Village, they will be resolved or they won’t. I know you want to help Amber, and that’s gut. But it’s not your responsibility how things turn out.”

  The tense bundle of nerves in Hannah’s stomach relaxed. Was that what she’d been doing? Claiming responsibility for something she couldn’t control?

  “Gotte will watch out for your freind.”

  “Danki, Jesse. I suppose I was making myself too important, as if Gotte couldn’t work things out without my help.”

  “He did all right before we were born. He’ll do fine long after we’re gone.”

  Hannah couldn’t help laughing. Sometimes Jesse sounded like a boy still in school. Two Sundays ago he’d played ball with the younger boys, hollering out and racing into the woods when her brother Noah had hit one past the outfielders. Other times he sounded more like her dad, all serious and knowledgeable.

  She turned to say as much to him, and that was when she noticed he was looking past her, looking toward the front porch.

  “Minerva has walked out to sit in one of the rockers. Now might be a good time for us to go speak to her.”

  She liked the way he bent down and scooped up Mattie, who began laughing. She liked the way he’d said us, as if he were in this with her come thick or thin. But mostly she liked the way her anxiety evaporated. Regardless of what they learned from Minerva, she realized Gotte was still in control.

  As
they approached the porch, Hannah peered at Minerva. It had been quite a while since she’d done more than say a polite hello to the woman. Their paths didn’t cross very often.

  Minerva’s skin was as wrinkled as the raisins Mattie loved to eat. Her kapp was pinned precisely, set on her head to reveal a very small portion of her snow-white hair. She had combed her hair in the same manner for so long that her center part resembled a plowed row. It flashed through Hannah’s mind that Minerva reminded her of Mattie when her sister was a baby with wrinkled skin and a bare whisper of hair.

  Jesse’s sister Teresa was happy to have more company on the porch where she’d apparently been warned to stay. She immediately set to playing with Mattie.

  “Sit. Both of you.” Minerva tapped the porch floor with her cane. “Hannah, your mamm mentioned you might like to have a word with me.”

  That surprised Hannah, but she sat as instructed on the steps in front of Minerva. Jesse sat beside her, and they both turned to face the elderly woman—how old was she? Hannah remembered she was a great-grandmother and a widow, but other than that she only knew that if anyone had questions about herbs, they went to Minerva.

  The woman’s garden was legendary.

  She’d even had visits from both Indiana University and Notre Dame—folks who were writing research papers about Amish ways and the value of herbal remedies. Hannah’s dat had showed her the article in the Budget a year or so ago.

  “What would you like to know? There has to be a reason two youngsters in lieb would spend time with this old woman.”

  “Oh, we’re not—” Hannah’s face flushed a deep red. She could actually feel the heat.

  Jesse nudged her with his foot, a smile playing on his lips.

  “Are your questions about the herbs?”

  “Yes, they are.” Hannah sat up a bit straighter and smoothed out the dark blue apron that covered her pale blue dress. She’d rehearsed how to say this a dozen times since she’d first thought of asking for Minerva’s help. “You heard about Ethan? Ethan Gray?”

  “Ya. His life was complete. No one knows when that day will be, but Gotte knows. Praise be to his holy name.”

  “Yes, well, we think Ethan’s day may have been rushed.”

  “Do not doubt Gotte’s reach.” Minerva set her chair to rocking, even as she hummed one of the morning’s hymns.

  Hannah didn’t know how to answer that. This conversation was not going as she’d envisioned it.

  “Hannah wanted to ask you about herbs . . . plants someone might have used in a harmful way.”

  “So you think he was killed?” Minerva’s eyes fixed on Hannah. Her gaze was clear and bright, and Hannah was suddenly embarrassed that she had doubted the woman’s clarity merely because of her age.

  “Possibly. The police say it was natural—a heart attack—but we’re not so sure.”

  Minerva continued rocking. She didn’t answer immediately. When she did, her voice was soft but strong. “See those birds? The ones past where the children are playing? They are searching for worms, brought up by the rain. The other birds, the ones in the bushes, they eat from the seeds of the plants and from the flowers. It’s rare that you will see the two flocks together because their needs are different.”

  “Are you telling me I shouldn’t be helping Amber? She’s my boss and I promised—”

  “I know who she is. I’m not telling you what to do or not to do. The story is meant to point out the natural way of things.”

  Jesse reached out and touched Hannah’s arm, then he tilted his head toward the children who had stopped playing. Older sisters and brothers were gathering them up and scooting them inside. The meal was about to begin.

  “Do you know of any herb that someone might use for poison? Something that could cause a heart attack or look like a heart attack?”

  “Many things may be used in a dark way, even natural things. The list of everyday plants might surprise you. Buckeye, coral bean, vetch, western yew, as well as cedar and locoweed.”

  “Are all of those available here?”

  “Nein. But nearly anything can be grown in any climate now, with the use of greenhouses and such.”

  Jesse pulled a pen and piece of paper from his pocket. How had he thought to bring that? Hannah had assumed the list would be short and she could remember the plants. Minerva still wasn’t done.

  “The blueberries from our Virginia creeper are poisonous, as is the more traditional hemlock. Death camas look like a plain onion but don’t have the odor, and they are quite deadly. Foxglove and wild iris, buttercup and jimsonweed. These are the plants that come to mind. There are more, but I’d need to review my notes.”

  “I had no idea there were so many!”

  “Ya. Nature is a dangerous place. Always you must be sure before consuming something you find growing. This is one reason we are a community, to share knowledge and lend a hand. When I’m gone, one of my grandkinner will take up where I have stopped.”

  Hannah wasn’t comfortable with the thought of more death. The longer she sat with Minerva, the healthier she looked! Why was she talking about dying?

  The idea of moving from this life to the next didn’t seem to bother Minerva one bit. She must have noticed Hannah’s discomfort, for she reached out and patted her hand. “Don’t look so surprised. Death is a natural part of life.”

  “Not this kind. Not poison.”

  “True, but we all have an appointed day to face our Savior.”

  Hannah stared at Jesse’s list. How would they begin? There were so many . . .

  Jesse tapped the page with his pen. “Would any of these cause a heart attack, Minerva? If given in sufficient amounts?”

  “Foxglove can affect the heart as well as one’s vision and state of mind. Hemlock looks much like parsley and has been used for evil purposes throughout man’s time on this earth. It contains chemicals that are quite toxic.”

  “Any others?”

  “That have the power to stop a heart? Many flowering plants—oleander, lily of the valley, peonies, rhododendron. Possibly the most dangerous of all plants are castor beans. They can be purchased at practically any nursery.”

  “Could . . . could they be given to someone without their knowing?”

  “Certainly. Dried and crushed they can be hidden in most foods.”

  Hannah didn’t know what to say. Her head was spinning. Her mind was dashing back and forth between the list of poisons and the way Ethan had looked when she’d found him. Her stomach suddenly turned, and she was certain she wouldn’t be eating, though Minerva was now standing and moving across the porch toward the yard, toward their luncheon.

  “Danki for helping us.” Jesse stepped closer so that Minerva could lean on him as she made her way down the porch steps.

  “Of course.” Minerva had reached the bottom of the steps and turned to gaze directly into Hannah’s eyes. “Often a death is just that—the end of one’s completed life. I’ve seen many people struggle with that truth, because they weren’t ready to be without their loved one.”

  “Can’t tell that anyone is grieving for Ethan.”

  “Then perhaps their faith wasn’t strong enough. We all must accept how temporary this life is, which is sometimes a painful idea.”

  Hannah blinked. Why did she suddenly find herself fighting the urge to cry? Why was this all so hard?

  “Other times, evil methods are at work.” She leaned closer until her wizened old eyes were a mere inch from Hannah’s, reached out her hand, and placed it on top of Hannah’s. Lowering her voice, she said, “Be careful. Poisons do not have to come from a garden. One can purchase them off a store shelf.”

  She straightened and smiled broadly, revealing what had to be a nice set of dentures. “I will pray that Gotte will guide your path.”

  And then she was gone, hobbling back to the bay area of Amon’s shop.

  Hannah was left standing beside Jesse, with their sisters playing behind them and a beehive of questions swirling in
her mind.

  Thirty

  Tate’s Sunday morning found a new rhythm, one he hadn’t known in quite some time.

  The moment he opened his eyes, he knew he’d go to church. He’d been remiss the last few years, and it was time to turn that around. The service had gone well too. For once he didn’t feel on the outside of things. Several old friends greeted him and seemed genuine when they said they were glad to see him. Nice people, and he was a little ashamed that he’d felt so isolated after Peggy died. His church had been there to support him. But for some reason he’d pulled away, until now.

  The music included two of his favorite hymns. He didn’t actually sing them; Tate wasn’t one to belt out a song even if he was alone. But he did follow along, reading the words in the hymnal, even humming occasionally.

  The service had progressed quickly, and he found himself appreciating Pastor Mitch’s sermon on spring, the renewal of life, the resurrection of Christ, and their hope in him. Together they read Scripture from Psalms—a book Tate wasn’t terribly familiar with. Perhaps he would try reading that during his morning time the next week.

  As he was leaving, he stood in line to shake the pastor’s hand.

  Mitch leaned forward and asked, “Can you wait a moment until I’m done here? I’d like to speak with you.”

  Which is how Tate found himself standing to the side, watching the old and young pass by the pastor and out the door to enjoy their day of rest.

  “Let me grab my things and I’ll walk with you to our cars.” Mitch popped into the church office, returning with a to-go coffee mug and a set of keys. “The wife hates when I leave these mugs here. We have three or four, and they’ll all be stacked up in my office.”

  “Don’t you have coffee here?”

  “Sure, but I need some for the drive over.” Mitch laughed at himself, then grew serious. “I wanted to talk to you about those verses from the Old Testament. The ones you asked me about at Ethan’s viewing.”

  They pushed out the church door into the spring sunshine.

  “From the book of Daniel.”

  “Those. I read about the vandalism at the Village. The newspaper mentioned there had been graffiti sprayed on both the Pumpkinvine Trail and Amber’s porch.”