What the Bishop Saw

by Vannetta Chapman

  “Tell me word-for-word what he said, Katie Ann.”

  “That he hoped their place didn’t sell too quickly.” When she raised her eyes, Emma realized she was worried, that what Albert Bontrager had said, or the way he’d said it, had spooked her somehow. “He said they have a plan, and that they would catch the guy. He said he wanted to be here when it happened.”

  Emma had no idea what the boy could have been talking about, but she did know Henry would want to be aware of this plan. Apparently their youngies had grown tired of having their lives disrupted. If the adults couldn’t, or wouldn’t, solve the problem of the Monte Vista arsonist, then they were ready to take it into their own capable, young hands.

  Fifty-Nine

  You’re sure about this?” Clyde asked.

  Emma had waited until after dinner to bring up the subject of the youngies’ plan to catch the Monte Vista arsonist. Once Rachel had ushered the younger children upstairs for their baths and then returned to join the adults, she broached the subject. Emma had also insisted Silas and Katie Ann, who had first told her of the plan, remain at the table with them.

  “What did you tell them?” Silas asked.

  “Nothing.” Katie Ann scowled at her brother. “It’s stupid, anyway.”

  “It isn’t.”

  “Ya, it is. I was at the last fire, remember?” She reached for her kapp strings and twisted them so hard Emma feared she’d pull them off. “I know how dangerous this person is. I still have nightmares about it!”

  “I’m sorry you were hurt, but that has nothing to do with us.”

  Emma and Rachel exchanged a worried look. Silas was their happy, unconcerned child. He rarely argued with anyone.

  Clyde held up his hand to stop the bickering between his two oldest children. “Tell me exactly what is supposed to happen.”

  Silas looked as if he might argue, and in that moment Emma saw Clyde in her grandson’s face. Her son had given her and George a few years of sleepless nights, and right about when he was Silas’s age. Any other time she might have laughed and said something like turnabout is fair play, but this wasn’t a laughing matter, and what they were talking about wasn’t play.

  Clyde took in a big breath, closed his eyes, and Emma knew he was praying for patience. How many times had she uttered the very same prayer?

  “Your sister cares about you, Silas.”

  “I guess.”

  “As do I and your mother and your grandmother. I need you to tell me the details. When were you supposed to meet?”

  “Nine o’clock tonight.”

  “This isn’t the first time,” Emma said, suddenly remembering what she had thought was a squirrel scampering across the roof the night before. “You met last night too.”

  Silas shrugged. “I guess.”

  “Answer your grandmother directly and show some respect.” There was a low growl in Clyde’s voice, something the children rarely heard.

  “Ya, we met last night. I crawled out my window so I wouldn’t wake anyone.”

  “Out the window?” Rachel’s voice rose like a tea kettle ready to boil.

  “It’s not that big a deal, Mamm. I can shimmy right over to the front porch and drop down. I didn’t mean to wake anyone. Sorry, Mammi.”

  Emma reached across the dining room table and squeezed his hand. He looked embarrassed and relieved at the same time.

  “Where are you to meet tonight?” Clyde pressed.

  “The Kline place.”

  “I’ll be going with you.”

  “But you can’t.” Silas quickly backtracked. “What I mean is, if you go they’ll know I told, and then… well, how can I ever look my friends in the face again?”

  “You can tell when you’re on the right track,” Emma said gently. “It’s usually uphill.”

  “What we’re doing isn’t easy.” For the first time since the discussion had begun, Silas looked determined rather than afraid. “You should thank us. We’re going to catch this person and make our community safe again.”

  “You and I will go together, and we’ll put an end to this before someone is hurt.”

  “But—”

  “This is for the Englisch authorities to handle.”

  “They haven’t done such a swell job so far.”

  “I’m living proof of that,” Katie Ann quipped.

  Clyde glanced at his wife before he sat back, crossing his arms and studying his children—children who by now believed they were adults, and in one sense they were. Emma knew there was no use trying to protect them from the problems in their community, but neither did she want them directly involved.

  “Obviously, the arson investigator does not share every bit of progress in her case with us or with the paper, so we can’t know that.” Clyde tapped the table for emphasis. “But it is her job, and I have no doubt she will do it to the best of her ability.”

  “What if this is outside her ability?” Silas stared at his hands and then out the window at his father’s land. “You know how Amish can be. There are things no one will tell her. Things we keep to ourselves.”

  “We remain separate as much as possible, but we will help her investigation any way we can.”

  “You would, Dat. I believe that. But some of our people feel it’s best to take matters into our own hands.”

  “And you won’t tell me specifically what is being planned?”

  “Those plans were shared with me in confidence. Do you want me to go back on my word?”

  “Fine. We’ll leave a little before dark, in about two hours.”

  Silas nodded in agreement, though he looked as if his girlfriend had just told him she wanted to court someone else. If only this could be about girls and courting—both things seventeen-year-old boys were supposed to be sneaking out in the middle of the night for. Not to catch an arsonist.

  “Go do your chores. Throw some extra hay to Cinnamon. I’ll meet you at the barn when it’s time to go.” Clyde stood, indicating the meeting was over. “And danki for telling us, Katie Ann.”

  She nodded but didn’t say anything.

  “Did you plan on going?”

  “Nein. I told them I wouldn’t. I don’t want to have anything to do with this arsonist. But if you’re going, Dat, then ya. I’d like to go too.”

  “All right.”

  “Are you sure you’re up to that, Katie Ann?” Her mother stepped closer, put both hands on the girl’s shoulders and waited until she looked up into her eyes.

  “Ya, I think… I think maybe being there and knowing what is going to happen will help the nightmares.”

  Rachel nodded once. “As long as you’re with your dat, then I suppose it will be all right.”

  Katie Ann fled from the room, following Silas out into the barn.

  Emma stood and began stacking and clearing the dishes. “I hope he isn’t too hard on her.”

  “They’re less than a year apart and have always acted like twins,” Rachel said.

  “Two people, one heart.”

  “Ya. Only this time Katie Ann’s fear overruled her need to go along with what Silas was planning.” Clyde sat with his hands covering his face. No doubt he’d been looking forward to his bed and some rest, but instead he’d be intercepting several dozen teenagers.

  “He’s only a boy doing what he thought was best,” Emma said. “Boys do things that seem foolish to men. Remember the time you snuck out to take that old Chevy to South Bend? Your father never could figure out what you were looking for there that you couldn’t find in Goshen.”

  “We were stopped by a policeman when the muffler fell off in the middle of the road.”

  “You gave your dat and me our fair share of sleepless nights.”

  “It was one of the things I liked about you,” Rachel admitted. “You were such a daring young man.” She stacked the rest of the dishes and carried them to the sink.

  “What I did was completely different,” Clyde argued. “This could get someone killed.”

  �
�Oh, Clyde. That could happen any night. Someone driving too fast or glancing down at their phone. Every generation worries about their children. I’m sure it’s been the way of things since Adam and Eve worried over Cain and Abel.”

  “Ya, and look how that turned out.”

  Emma smiled. At least his sense of humor was returning. She walked back to the table, wiping it down with a damp dish towel, and paused next to him long enough to say, “I’ll meet you three in the barn, and don’t even think about arguing with me, because I’m going too.”

  She thought he muttered something that sounded like, “When has arguing with you ever worked?” But if he had she decided to ignore it. She could also remember worrying about her parents. Yes, life was a circle that continued to turn whether or not they were ready for it.

  Sixty

  How did you find us?” Abe asked.

  Both he and Alvin were standing on the back porch. The cabin belonged to someone Abe had done some work for—clearing brush, trimming trees, that sort of thing. As far as Henry knew, Abe still helped to maintain the cabin when the owner was out of town, which would explain why they were able to visit it. The view beyond the porch was of trees and a yard leading down to a bubbling mountain stream that twisted this way and that behind the cabin. The light rain had turned into a nice downpour, obscuring the view. Twelve years ago, they had all fished there, laughing about the trout and what a promised land the San Luis Valley was. On that spring day, it had seemed to be all that and more. How had things changed so drastically?

  “Gut place to get away,” was all Henry said by way of explanation.

  Alvin and Abe exchanged a look, and Abe finally motioned toward a chair.

  Henry took it, waiting to see if they would speak first.

  Abe sat beside him, but Alvin stood at the porch steps, as if he might need to plunge into the stream and then dash into the woods.

  To their left the last of the evening’s light was playing through the leaves. To their right, the shadow of the mountain was encroaching. Darkness overcoming light. Henry had to remind himself that, in the morning, the pattern would reverse. All they had to do was wait and trust that the light would return. Not a bad analogy for a Sunday morning sermon. But would it help Alvin to mention it now? He didn’t think so.

  “Do you remember when we first came here, Henry?” Alvin didn’t look at the bishop when he asked the question. Instead, he stared out at the wilderness.

  “I do.”

  Henry knew he was talking not about this cabin, but moving to Colorado.

  “So much has changed since that year. Some of those changes I am grateful for—my wife, my children, my church. But if I had known how difficult the journey would be, if I had realized how much I would hurt Franey, I’m not sure I would have had the strength to leave.” Now he turned to Henry and gazed directly at him. “I’ve never been a particularly courageous man. Hardworking and simple, as my dat was before me. But this thing we’re caught up in, I can’t even begin to understand it.”

  “Why don’t you explain to me what’s happened. Why are you here?”

  Instead of answering, Alvin walked into the house and returned with a large brown envelope, which he dropped in Henry’s lap.

  Alvin returned to staring out at the stream.

  Abe motioned for Henry to open the envelope, which had an Alamosa postmark.

  Henry found three things inside. A photograph of Alvin standing outside the JSW construction site. Another of him leaving the Monte Vista Gazette building. And clipped to the top of those two, a handwritten note.

  You have fourty-ate hours befor I will send these to police.

  I’ve already called the tip hotline, so you will now I’m cerious.

  I didn’t tell them anything specific yet.

  Fourty-ate hours.

  You’ll need $12,000—cash.

  I’ll be in touch with delivry instructions.

  “I recognize the handwriting.”

  “How… how is that possible?” Alvin asked.

  But Abe understood. “The scene you drew from Vernon’s. It included a letter, right? A letter from the arsonist.”

  “Ya.”

  “And this is the same writing?”

  “I’m sure of it. Plus, it has the same kinds of sentence errors and misspelled words.”

  “But you don’t know who wrote it?”

  “Nein. If I knew, the man would be in jail.”

  “I didn’t do this thing, Henry.” Alvin turned toward them, his eyes pleading for Henry to believe him. “I’ve never even visited the construction site, and I haven’t been to the newspaper in the eleven years since I left.”

  “So these photographs aren’t real.”

  “Of course they’re not, but they look real enough. I don’t understand how they can even exist.”

  “Neither do I, but the Englisch and their computers… they can make something look authentic.”

  “Not just the Englisch, Henry.” Abe sat forward, his elbows on his knees, studying the floor of the porch with a worried expression. “I’ve seen our youngies, the ones with phones. I’ve seen them playing around. They can make a photograph with them standing in front of the London Bridge or Niagara Falls when they’ve never been to such a place.”

  “You’re saying it could be an Amish person.”

  “I’m saying there’s no way to know based on what we have.”

  Henry didn’t answer immediately. It was growing dark, and his driver would be ready to return home. What could he say to persuade Alvin and Abe to go with him? How could he convince them hiding out was a bad idea? And then it hit him.

  “This person never expected you to turn over twelve thousand dollars.”

  “But it says that I’m to—”

  “I know what it says, but whether he’s Amish or Englisch, he understands that few if any Amish men have that much money in the bank.”

  “What’s the point, then?” Abe asked. “Did he want to taunt my brother? And why? Why single out Alvin among all the Amish—”

  “I’m Mennonite.”

  “Among all the Amish or Mennonite in the area?”

  Henry pushed away any intention of hurrying. Stuart would wait, reading his novel by flashlight if necessary, hoping something could be done to catch this person. He wouldn’t want him to rush and miss something. Henry had the growing sensation they were close to solving this—if not the person’s identity, then at least landing on a motive. There was something they weren’t seeing. He picked up the letter and studied it again. The same misspelled words, missing words, and odd syntax jumped out at him. Next he picked up the envelope and studied it.

  “This was mailed Friday.”

  Alvin shrugged.

  “So it was mailed after the fire at the newspaper.”

  “Ya. Why does that matter?’

  “In the first letter, the writer was angry, needing to spew out some of the bitterness building in his heart and mind. Needing to let someone know his grievances.” Henry tapped the letter. “There’s none of that here—only a sense of urgency.”

  “Yeah, like it’s urgent that I decide what to do before I’m arrested, and this man urgently wants his blackmail money.”

  Instead of answering that, Henry turned to Abe. “Why were you at the newspaper that day?”

  Abe refused to meet Henry’s eyes. “I was placing a sales ad.”

  “Sales ad?”

  “Yes, Henry.” Now he looked up defiantly. “An old plow, the kids’ trampoline, the extra buggy horse, pretty much anything I can get cash for.”

  “I didn’t realize your situation was so dire. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because I should be able to support my family.”

  Instead of responding to that, Henry said, “The night we were all in the hospital, you weren’t there.”

  “I was, but not for very long. They treated me and then I went straight home.”

  “Do you know about my meeting with Meg at the hos
pital?”

  Abe squirmed in his seat. “Ya. I suppose everyone does.”

  “What are they saying? What is everyone saying about that meeting?”

  “Only that you… that you drew more pictures. This time of scenes at the fire.” Abe ran a thumb under his suspenders, up and down, up and down. “Some say you drew a picture of the next fire.”

  Henry nearly laughed. “That would be a pretty neat trick, but I don’t have the gift of prophecy.”

  “It’s only people talking. You know how these things go.”

  “I do. I think people were talking, especially people in the waiting room. I think word got out that I’d drawn the scenes of the fire, and this guy”—he tapped the envelope—“is spooked.”

  “We’d heard that, after seeing the drawing, Meg came out and spoke to a few more people. You know she took me into the station and questioned me the next day. Did she plan to speak with anyone else?”

  “She did.”

  “And Lewis was one? Could he have done it?”

  “He is not guilty of this.” Henry was convinced of Lewis’s innocence. The man was at the newspaper to purchase his drugs. He’d been willing to run into a burning building to get them. That kind of addiction couldn’t be faked. No, Lewis Glick was innocent, but Henry didn’t want to get into that now. The clock was ticking, and they needed to decide what to do next.

  His thoughts turned to the other two men in the drawings he’d made—in particular, the one outside after the fire. There had been Abe, who was sitting in front of him, and Douglas, an Englischer who had willingly answered Meg’s questions. But he couldn’t limit his suspect to those three.

  People were spooked by what he’d drawn, but they hadn’t seen what he’d drawn. They didn’t know he hadn’t identified the perpetrator. No one knew exactly what was in those drawings except for him, Emma, and Meg. But there had been rumors, and rumors could grow out of control.

  “Whoever is setting these fires is nervous. He heard the same things you did, that I had drawn scenes from the fire. He’s worried Meg is closing in, so he needed to switch the focus of Meg’s investigation somewhere else.”