They all fell silent at the thought of that. The clock ticked, and Lexi yipped at something in her dreams.
Finally, it was Clyde who sat forward and asked, “Why did you invite us here? It’s a gut idea, don’t get me wrong. It helps to discuss these matters as a family of believers, but what did you hope we could accomplish?”
“That’s the thing. I don’t know. I feel that we should be doing something, but I’m at a loss as to what.”
“Have you thought about… ” Abe made the motion of holding a pen and drawing.
“I have, but as you know, I didn’t see the murder.”
“It’s possible you saw something else, though.”
“I hardly know where to begin.”
“Then that’s where we start.” Leroy slapped the table and sat up straighter. “We pray that Gotte will show you what to draw, that He will guide your hand. Gotte gave you this talent, Henry. It makes sense that you’re to use it.”
Henry was humbled by his friends’ faith in him, by their acceptance of his odd ability. But he was also comforted, knowing they were on his side, as they had always been.
“There is something else we can do,” Clyde said. “We ask for the youngies help. We want them to be responsible, to act like men, so we give them a chance to do that. We give them a chance to make this right.”
“What exactly do you have in mind?” Abe asked.
“They know the Englisch youngies and we don’t. They know how the operation worked. Maybe they can find the missing money.”
Leroy stood and rinsed out his mug, and then he turned back toward them, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms. “Wouldn’t that be putting them in harm’s way?”
“It would seem to me that the killer is long gone,” Clyde said.
“I don’t know.” Henry told them about the message on his buggy, about Seth being run off the road, and Emma’s theory that the killer might have been targeting him.
“But why would the killer stick around? That would be terribly dangerous and stupid.” Leroy shrugged his shoulders. “We all know Englisch motorists get frustrated when our buggies slow them down. I’m sorry about what happened to Seth, but I don’t see its connection to this.”
Abe nodded his head in agreement. “The chalking on your buggy sounds like a prank, though one done in very poor taste.”
Clyde returned the discussion to his idea. “We could start by looking for someone who has conspicuously left the area.”
“Which I’m sure Grayson is doing,” Henry pointed out.
“True, but this is a big area if you include Alamosa. He can’t check every person who has left town since last Friday. Our youngies, though, they… ” Clyde seemed to be gaining steam, more certain as he spoke that his idea would produce results. “Our youngies know who the Englischers involved were. They can give us a list of names, maybe even tell us who the high rollers were.”
Abe had just devoured one more cookie. “They wouldn’t want to rat out their friends.”
“The jig is up,” Clyde said. “We’re on to them, so they won’t be making any more bets. Besides, it’s the Englischer names we want. We already have the Amish ones.”
“Let’s not be too quick to assume an Englischer did this thing. We can’t know.” Henry didn’t believe it was an Amish person, but he felt the need to add a word of caution nonetheless.
“Our sons—and daughters—want to be treated like adults.” Clyde studied each person around the room. “I’m not saying put them in danger. There’s no need to send them out looking for this person, but they need to face the fact that they became involved in something more sinister than they bargained for.”
“If the killing had to do with the money… ” Henry wasn’t sure that was right, but he had to admit it was a possibility. What other motive could there have been?
“So no one is opposed to including them?” Clyde asked. “Gut. We’ll speak to them tonight. Our youngies worked their way into this situation. Let’s see if they can figure a way out.”
Thirty-Two
Emma sat in her rocker in the sitting room, crocheting a baby blanket. When she was younger, she used to crochet and knit quite a bit, but then her life grew busy with grandchildren and farm work and real-life murder mysteries. Silas had challenged her to find a normal hobby after the incident on the sand dunes when she and Henry were being chased by Sophia Brooks’s killer. A nice, quiet, safe hobby had sounded like a good idea, and so she’d searched in the bottom of her sewing box for the crochet needles. She’d finished half a dozen baby blankets and countless baby caps since then.
Now she was working with a variegated color—a pale yellow and green. She could just imagine a newborn baby snuggled in it. She wasn’t the fastest person at crocheting, and she knew many Amish women preferred knitting, but she was learning to enjoy the process—the feel of the needle pulling the yarn, the way the stitches formed tidy rows, the repetitive motion that soothed her nerves.
And three of the reasons for her nerves were sitting in front of her—Clyde, Silas, and Katie Ann. Rachel had gone to bed early with a headache, which was code for she was tired and would rather be reading. Clyde had already explained the situation to her, and although she wasn’t particularly fond of the idea, she understood the reasoning and offered her prayers and blessings for success.
The younger boys—Stephen and Thomas—were already in bed, though occasionally Emma heard laughter drift down from upstairs.
“Mamm’s okay with it, Mammi. Why aren’t you?” Silas asked.
“I think I can answer that.” Katie Ann plucked a throw pillow from the couch and wrapped her arms around it. “Mammi was with me and Henry when we caught the Monte Vista arsonist. She doesn’t want us involved in that sort of thing again.”
“You’re absolutely right.” Emma kept her eyes on her crocheting, but she nodded her head vigorously.
“And then there was that mess at the top of the sand dunes.” Clyde’s voice was teasing.
“You’re not taking this seriously enough. We could have been killed up there, catching Sophia Brooks’s killer.”
“I’m not taking it seriously enough?” Clyde laughed out loud now. “You’re the one who keeps stumbling into these situations.”
“But Henry thinks we should do this,” Silas reminded her. “If he agrees it’s a gut idea, and he’s our bishop and all… ”
“Not to mention he’s about to be our grossdaddi… ” Katie Ann grinned broadly when Emma pierced her with a stare.
“You know, I haven’t really talked to you all about that. How do you feel about my marrying Henry?”
All three stared at her as if she’d stuck the crochet needle into her prayer kapp.
“What I mean is, I don’t want you to think I’m being disrespectful.”
Clyde’s voice was gentle, and his smile melted all the worry in her heart. “It’s been nearly six years, Mamm. And you know we all care for Henry.”
“And it isn’t as if he’ll be replacing Daddi.” Silas crossed his right foot over his left knee. “He was Daddi’s friend. I remember how they’d play washers together.”
“We’re happy that you’re happy,” Katie Ann added. “And while Henry isn’t my grandfather, he’s the next best thing. It’s as if… as if Gotte knew how much we miss Daddi and is providing someone else in our lives to help fill the void. Did I say that right?”
“You said it perfectly,” Clyde assured her.
Finally Emma sighed and dropped the crochet project into her lap, giving her family her full attention.
“So you’re okay with our idea?” Silas asked.
“I’m not going against my bishop, or my soon-to-be husband… ” Emma shook her head when Silas and Katie Ann high-fived. “I just don’t know what you hope to accomplish, what good you could possibly do. You know Grayson is working hard on the investigation, and he’s a very capable man.”
“Didn’t help with the Monte Vista arsonist,” Silas reminded h
er.
“Or Sophia’s killer.” Katie Ann’s expression grew somber at the memory.
“I understand your concerns, Mamm.” Clyde crossed his arms and stuck his thumbs under his suspenders. He stared at the darkness that had fallen outside the window, carefully choosing his words. “We often ask our youngies to act responsibly, to consider the repercussions of anything they do. We remind them of the importance of the Ordnung, and that its rules are to help prevent them from straying, to keep them on the path of living a godly life, a simple and humble life. But then when it’s time to trust them with these decisions or allow them to feel the consequences, we falter. We’re no better than the Englisch in this respect, encouraging children to remain children long past the time it’s proper for them to do so.”
“A little harsh, but basically I agree with you.” Silas looked pleased with himself until Clyde pointed a finger at him.
“Don’t think you are exempt, son.”
“Didn’t say I was.”
“Your easy way with the girls borders on disrespect.”
“It doesn’t. I mean no harm.”
“It’s possible to mean no harm and still inflict harm.”
Silas had no answer for that, choosing to pick at the dirt under his fingernails instead.
“Back to this meeting… ” Emma didn’t want a fight about Silas’s dating habits. They needed to stay focused.
“We’re not asking you to find a killer,” Clyde clarified. “You chose to be involved in gambling—”
“We didn’t,” Katie Ann and Silas said in unison.
“As a community, our youngies chose this path, so as a community perhaps we can find a way back from it.”
“Which would involve what, exactly?” Emma was growing tired. She pulled off her reading glasses and rubbed at her eyes.
“Gut question.” Clyde turned his attention to Silas and Katie Ann. “The way we—the church leaders and Henry—see it, you could provide a list of names, Englischers and Amish if we missed any, who were involved in this thing. You could get some sense for who the high rollers were and who was just dabbling in it.”
“We won’t snitch on one another,” Silas said.
“You shouldn’t have to. You should volunteer the information, and lastly, we need to know where the money is. Did Lloyd turn it over to Jeremiah as he said he did? If he did, then where is it? Did the killer steal it from Jeremiah?”
“How?” Katie Ann asked. “The person shot him from the other side of the arena.”
“I’ve been thinking about that,” Emma admitted. “Whoever planned to kill Jeremiah—and it had to be planned—could have done so any number of places, but instead the person chose a public venue. He must have been making a statement, but what was it?”
Silas put his hand over his mouth, stifling a yawn. “I see Dat’s point, though. Find the money, and we’ll probably find the killer.”
“Maybe he stole it before the murder took place.” Clyde frowned now, as if that didn’t quite make sense even to him.
“If he’d stolen it beforehand, there would have been no need to kill Jeremiah—if the money was the reason he was killed.” Katie Ann sighed and began plucking at the pillow in her arms.
Clyde thought on that a minute. Emma knew he was carefully considering what each person said, and she appreciated that about him. Clyde wasn’t one to make a proclamation and expect everyone to follow it. He believed in the importance of gathering a family consensus whenever possible. “Perhaps our murderer stole it afterward, then. Has anyone seen anything suspicious around Ruth’s house? Did someone break in and take the money before she returned home? Who suddenly has a large bundle of cash?”
They continued discussing different aspects of the case and what information they needed. Katie Ann hurried to the kitchen, rummaged in a drawer, and found a piece of paper and pen. She wrote down the most pressing questions. Then Silas and Katie Ann agreed they would meet with the others the following evening, without adults, and learn as much as possible.
Emma realized the youngies wouldn’t necessarily be in danger if they did what Clyde asked. They wouldn’t be setting a trap for the culprit or chasing him down. Their children might sometimes push the boundaries of the Ordnung, but they were good at heart. They were pacifists at heart. They wouldn’t harm anyone.
And their information could be of benefit to Sheriff Grayson.
The only question was what would happen if the killer caught wind of it all. And if the killer was still in the vicinity, would he feel pressured to act again?
Thirty-Three
The young people in the Monte Vista Amish community met on Saturday evening. They sat in a semicircle inside Leroy Kauffmann’s barn. Soft light lingered outside, enough that they could see one another without the help of lanterns or flashlights. Naomi sat clutching a notepad and pen, with Katie Ann on her right and Albert Bontrager on her left. She didn’t know Albert very well. She knew he was farming his parents’ land, that his family had moved out of the valley when the Monte Vista arsonist was still on the loose, and he was in his early twenties. He was also shy and kept stealing glances at Katie Ann.
Katie Ann was watching a mare in an adjacent stall and had no idea Albert was checking her out. The Kauffmanns’ barn was considerably bigger than most. Leroy also had more buggy horses, workhorses, and livestock than anyone else in their community. His was a big operation, though he did nothing to draw attention to that fact. It was just something they all accepted. Leroy Kauffmann and his family were the wealthiest among them.
The gathering resembled a Sunday evening singing, but without the youngest of their group present. Someone had decided only those seventeen and up would be involved, and only those unmarried—the logic being that anyone married wouldn’t have the time or funds to participate in something as risky as gambling.
All told, a dozen or so were present, including most of the boys who had been questioned by the police. Lloyd Yutzy was conspicuously absent. Naomi hoped that meant he’d returned to Indiana. She knew most of the boys and girls, though not all. She should, but she’d never been good at remembering names. Because she hadn’t been raised in the valley, she didn’t let that concern her. If she were to stay—which she hadn’t yet decided to do—she would eventually know everyone’s name. The community wasn’t so large, which was one thing she liked about it.
When it seemed that everyone who was going to arrive had, Silas Fisher started the meeting.
“Guess everyone knows what this meeting is about.”
There were several grunts and groans, and some nervous laughter. Naomi thought she heard someone in the back of the barn, maybe someone coming in late. She tried to focus on what Silas was saying.
“Hope you all aren’t in too much trouble with your parents. I wasn’t involved with Jeremiah’s scheme, but only because I had my attention elsewhere.” His words brought scattered laughter, but to Naomi it looked as if Silas was embarrassed about his reputation, as if he wanted to apologize for something. Instead, he shook his head and continued. “They need our help, is what it boils down to.”
“Who is they?” Someone on the far side of the circle threw out the question.
“The police haven’t asked, if that’s what you mean. Our parents, though, think it’s the right thing to do. More to the point, our leadership—Henry, Abe, Leroy, and my dad—they think it’s the right thing to do. Anyone who doesn’t agree is free to leave.”
He waited a moment, during which no one moved.
“Gut. Since we all care about this community, we all want to see it continue and thrive, then I say we do what we can to bring this situation to a quick resolution.”
“What do you have in mind, Silas?” This from Mahlon Graber, whose father was a deacon. Mahlon had always seemed more serious than most to Naomi. She was surprised he’d been involved in Jeremiah’s scheme. “Because if you’re asking us to rat one another out… ”
“Not at all. I say we share what we know, p
ersonally. We volunteer the information—no ratting involved.”
“Sounds fair enough,” someone to Naomi’s right murmured.
“We get a clear picture of what happened and what happened before it happened. Naomi has offered to write down what’s said so we have something to analyze. Anyone have a problem with that?”
No one did, by their silence, and Naomi breathed a sigh of relief. She didn’t mind recording the details of the meeting, but she didn’t want anyone to resent her because she did.
Silas glanced at her and smiled. He was awfully cute. Too bad he smiled at every girl he saw. “We decide as a group what information is useful. Then one of us can take that to Henry, who will share it with the police.”
There was a marked silence at that. Naomi could hear the horses moving in their stalls. Finally, Mahlon pulled off his hat and slapped it against his trousers. “I was pulled in. No one to blame but myself, though you have to admit Jeremiah was a fast talker.”
Several murmurs of agreement followed his remark.
“I lost nearly five hundred, and those were hard-earned dollars too. I hated to see them go. Jeremiah convinced me I could see a good increase from what I gave him. He said it was practically a sure thing. Hard not to fall for that. Suppose I learned a lesson, though, without the grief from my parents—that was additional.”
Now there was open laughter. Nearly everyone there had been lectured by their parents. Naomi’s aunt had even give her a long talking to, and Naomi had never even considered gambling what little money she had.
Mahlon wrapped up with, “That’s about it. Oh, and I paid Jeremiah what I owed on the Thursday before he was killed. No idea what happened to it.”
Mahlon looked embarrassed but also relieved. Naomi supposed confession was good for the soul in most cases. She made a note of his name, amount owed, and date his money was paid to Jeremiah. She couldn’t think of anything else to add to that. Seemed like precious little information.
Nathan Kline sat forward, elbows propped on knees. “I’ll agree that Jeremiah was a fast talker, but the truth is, I was too eager to hear it. Thought I was onto something good. Thought I’d come away with double the money I started out with. Didn’t happen, though.”
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