by Amy Lillard
Somehow Kappy managed not to stumble over her own feet at the mention of his name. She hadn’t counted on Hiram being there. Just her and Willie. Now there were five of them. Almost a party.
Emma stopped outside a bedroom door. She rapped lightly on the wood, then pushed it open and motioned Kappy inside.
The room was dark, the curtains drawn, and it seemed a sheet had been tossed on top of the fabric to block out even more light.
A young man sat on the end of the made bed, head bent, elbows braced on his knees.
Kappy took one look at him and relief flooded her system.
It was true: Willie Lapp had come home.
“Shhhh . . .” Hiram grasped her arm and pulled her farther into the room. “We don’t want everyone knowing he’s back.”
“Why not?”
“We just don’t, okay?”
Kappy shook her head. “Okay.”
“What are you doing here?”
Emma ducked out of the room, leaving Edie and Kappy alone with Hiram and Willie.
“What is she doing here?”
“She . . . we were just worried about Willie.”
Hiram’s gaze narrowed. “How did you know he was home?”
“Martha Peachey told me.” How many times was she going to lie before the Lord struck her down? She added the transgression to the mental prayer list she kept.
“How did she know?”
Kappy blew a raspberry much the same way Edie did when she was put on the spot. “Who knows how Martha finds out half the stuff she does?”
Hiram thought about it a moment, but to Kappy it seemed like a piece of forever. “True.” He gave a small nod of consent, then took a step back. “I’m sure Willie can use the friendly face.”
Kappy looked from Hiram to Willie. He seemed just the same as when she had seen him a couple of weeks ago. Maybe a little sadder, a little more worried. Had he not wanted to come home? Kappy wanted to ask him, but the words wouldn’t come. In fact, she had a lot of questions she wanted to ask him, but she couldn’t. Such as if he had been texting Edie. If he had seen the accident that killed Sally June Esh, and why he had come back. And why didn’t they want anyone to know.
“Hey, Willie.”
He lifted one hand in greeting.
“Did you know the police came by yesterday?” Hiram asked.
Kappy did her best to look surprised, but the expression felt forced. “What did they want?”
Hiram shook his head. “They think Willie had something to do with Sally June Esh’s death.”
“That’s not what they said,” Willie protested.
Kappy wanted to ask what Jack Jones and his buddies had asked Willie, but she managed to hold in the question. She needed for them to tell her, not go digging for information. She had already told Jack as much.
“They might as well have.” He turned back to Kappy. “They were everywhere. And all of them seemed to be talking at once. Mamm took to bed with a sick headache. It was terrible.”
“What did you say to them?” Kappy asked. She could feel Edie vibrating behind her and she knew that her friend was having as much trouble as she was containing her own questions.
“We told them that we didn’t want anything to do with this.”
“You told them that,” Willie countered.
Hiram ignored him, but corrected himself all the same. “I told them that the district was still grieving Sally June, and we didn’t need to keep talking about it. We need to heal.”
“True,” Kappy murmured. She was certain those words hadn’t settled well with Jack.
“He was just doing his job,” Edie said.
Willie looked at her, but Hiram didn’t even flinch to acknowledge her words.
“He was only doing his job,” Kappy said. “I’m sure he meant no offense.”
“Wanna bet?” Edie murmured behind her. Thankfully, she had lowered her voice enough that no one save Kappy heard her.
“I didn’t do it,” Willie said. “I know everyone thinks I did because I left about the same time, but I didn’t do it.”
“You don’t have to say anything,” Hiram said. “In fact, I would prefer that you didn’t.”
“Why?” Willie jumped to his feet. “If I don’t say that I’m innocent, then they’re going to arrest me. You heard what they said last night.”
“I did, and that’s the exact reason why you shouldn’t say anything. That’s what these men are trained to do, get you to confess. Whether you mean to or not.”
Willie flopped back onto the bed and let out a frustrated growl.
“Were you the one texting me?” Edie asked.
Willie and Hiram both swiveled to face her.
“Text you?” Hiram asked. “Why would my brother text you?”
“Oh, now you want to talk to me.”
Kappy nudged her in the ribs. “Did you text Edie, Willie?”
The young man frowned. “How would I text you?”
“With your cell phone.” Edie rolled her eyes. She was more than convinced that Willie had been the one, but the longer they stood in the dark bedroom and talked, the more she began to wonder.
“I’m Amish. No cell phone.” Willie held his arms out as if Edie were about to conduct a search.
“Rumspringa,” Edie singsonged.
“I may be running around, but I don’t have a cell phone.”
Kappy turned to Edie. “I think he’s telling the truth.”
“How do we know for certain?” Edie asked.
“We don’t. We just have to trust him.”
“I’m sitting right here,” Willie said.
“Good,” Edie interjected. “At least you can’t say we were talking behind your back.”
“Is that why you came here?” Hiram asked.
For the first time since they had entered the bedroom, Kappy was glad for the cover of darkness. The heat she felt rising from her neck into her cheeks was hot enough to roast marshmallows. “Of course not.”
“I think it’s time for you to go.” Hiram took a menacing step toward her.
Kappy didn’t believe for a second that he would hurt her, but she retreated all the same. She had come here under false pretenses, and she deserved his scorn.
“Sorry, Hiram,” Kappy said. “I’m glad you’re home, Willie.”
“Danki, Kappy.”
She turned to make her way from the room. Hiram followed behind him.
“Are you telling me you’ve been getting texts that you thought were from Willie and you didn’t tell me?”
“It’s not like that,” Kappy protested. “We didn’t tell anyone.”
He raised one brow, his mouth twisted into an angled frown. “That’s not a comfort, Kappy. I thought we were friends. I gave you the space you said you needed. I knew that we would make it through whatever doubts you were having, but now? Now, I’m the one with the doubts. Good-bye, Kappy.”
* * *
“Intense,” Edie said as they climbed into the car.
Kappy shook her head. “You can’t blame him.”
“Sure I can.” She started the car and turned it around in the side yard.
“He feels I betrayed him.”
“I know what he feels. I’m just saying he was intense.”
“Wouldn’t you be?”
Edie gave another of her one-shoulder shrugs. “I suppose.” She pulled onto the side lane and made her way to the main road. “Which way?”
Left would take them to the police station, but did they really have anything to tell Jack? No. Right would take them home. Even farther and they would be at the grocery store.
“We could go see if Bettie Hershberger talked Mr. Roberts at the market into selling her green pickles,” Kappy said.
“For real?”
“You got anything better to do?”
“I thought Silas was coming by.”
He was, but did Kappy really want to get her hopes up again?
“Oh, I see,” Edie said. “Play
ing hard to get.”
“If you say so,” Kappy reluctantly agreed.
“Then to the grocery store.” She turned onto the main road and started toward the supermarket.
“You still don’t think Bettie had anything to do with this, do you?”
Kappy sighed. “No, I guess not. Though it would have been a lot easier if she had. I just want to see how successful her pickle campaign is becoming.”
“Do you think she’ll get the church members to convert to green pickles?”
“No. We love the tradition too much, but I would like to see her pickles get a little more attention. They’re not bad pickles at all.” A little too spicy for her taste. But she had grown up eating white church pickles that were made for everyone to enjoy. Jah, if that might make them a little bland, then so be it.
Edie slowed her car as they neared a yellow buggy driving in front of them. She pulled into the left lane, checking the traffic before executing her pass. The buggy didn’t slow. The driver kept going. Most times the buggy driver would pull to one side to allow the car more room. Kappy always did this. It felt safer to her to be off to the side and stopped when dealing with so many cars on the not-so-wide two-lane highway.
Edie passed the car and something made Kappy look back.
“Edie! That’s Bettie Hershberger.”
“What?”
“In the buggy. That was Bettie Hershberger.”
“Free country,” Edie said, barely taking her eyes from the road to glance in the rearview mirror.
“What do you suppose she’s doing?”
“Driving somewhere.”
“But where?” Kappy mused.
“Hard to say.”
“She could be headed to the grocery store. I mean, she’s almost there.”
“Or she could be headed to the market stand just down from the convenience store.”
“I guess we’ll see.”
“Maybe.” Edie pulled into the parking lot and turned off the engine. “I get to do the talking.”
“I don’t mind talking to him.” Kappy got out of the car and smoothed a hand over her dress and apron.
“Yeah, maybe not. But these are my people and they talk to me. Gotta give me that.”
Kappy smiled. “It’s yours.”
They were just about to walk into the store when one of the flyers taped to the inside of the window caught Kappy’s attention. “Edie . . . come look at this.” She pointed to the window.
Edie scanned the area. “The spaghetti supper at the church?”
“No. This.” Kappy tapped the glass. This flyer was different from the rest. This one was in full color instead of black lettering on brightly colored paper. BATTLE OF THE BANDS, ran across the top of the page. COME SUPPORT LOCAL BAND, BABY SISTER, AT THE UPCOMING BATTLE OF THE BANDS. All the members of the band had long hair and wore dresses, but something in how they stood had Kappy registering that they weren’t females but boys in skirts and wigs.
“Why would boys do this?” she asked.
Edie gave a disinterested shrug. “It’s a gimmick.”
“Gimmick?”
“Not on your word-a-day calendar?”
“I know what a gimmick is. I just don’t know how it applies in this situation.”
“It’s a way for them to be remembered.”
Kappy wasn’t sure how dressing as a girl would accomplish that. But she had long ago given up trying to understand the ways of the Englisch. Wouldn’t it be better to just play really good music?
“Wait. Isn’t that Jeff?”
“Jeff? Jeff who?” Edie asked.
“Baldwin. Pete’s son.”
“The auto-body repairman?” Edie squinted at the picture. Despite the fact that it was in color, it was still a bad image and was printed on flimsy printer paper. It was a little hard to see. “It sort of looks like him. It’s hard to tell with that wig he has on.”
“And remember? His father said he played the guitar.” Of the five guys on the flyer, the one in the middle seemed to hide his face a bit more than the others. Coincidence? She didn’t know.
“He’s definitely got a guitar. Were there any other marks? You know, like a scar or a mole?” Edie asked.
“There’s no way we could see it on this flyer. The picture is just so bad.”
“And that hair.” The words had no sooner left Edie’s lips than the idea struck. Well, actually it fell on her like a stack of bricks from heaven.
“He’s got on a long black wig,” Kappy said.
Edie stopped. “And he has a car like the one involved in the accident.”
“And he had access to repair the car without having to tell his father or claim it on his insurance.”
It was falling into place, all the pieces of the puzzle. Except one. Every shred of evidence they had was pointing toward Jeff Baldwin as the murderer.
“But why?” Kappy asked.
Chapter 21
Kappy took a step back as a woman left the store. Until that moment, Kappy hadn’t been thinking about what she and Edie had looked like, standing out front, staring at the flyers posted in the large plate-glass window.
“Why?” Edie repeated.
“His sister,” Kappy said. She slapped one hand over her mouth to contain the rest of her words, but her excitement was palpable.
“That’s right.” Edie snapped her fingers. “His sister has been dating a boy her family doesn’t approve of.”
“And Jonah Esh has been dating an Englisch girl.”
“Do you realize what this means?” Edie took another step back as a frowning woman brushed past.
“That we need to go talk to Jack Jones?”
Edie looked as if she had been slapped. She pointed to the full-color flyer. “It means we have to get to the Battle of the Bands.”
* * *
“I’m still not convinced this is the best choice,” Kappy said as Edie drove to the concert. It was at the edge of town in the small park next to the post office. The weather was still nice enough to have outdoor events, but in another month or so, listening to music outside for hours would not be pleasant.
“Why not? If we have to stop and talk to Jack, we’ll be even more late to the concert. And we can’t call him since he has my phone.” She shot Kappy a glaring frown.
“So that’s what this is about. You’re not telling him because he took your phone.”
“I’m not telling him yet because he took my phone and I have no way to contact him.”
“Even if you wanted to.”
“We’ll call him from the concert, okay? I mean, someone needs to watch this guy and make sure he doesn’t get away while we wait on Jack and his posse.”
She couldn’t argue with that. Someone did need to keep an eye on the young man. He had killed an innocent woman. It was such a shame. Two young lives forever ruined by one bad decision.
“How—?”
“I’ll borrow a phone, okay?”
“Okay.”
Edie pulled up to the park. She turned off the car and set the brake, then together they made their way through the crowd of people toward the stage.
Kappy didn’t know who was playing, but after seeing the full-color picture of Baby Sister, she knew it wasn’t them. These guys wore faded and ripped jeans, flannel shirts, and boots that looked like they were biker-gang castoffs.
“I wonder when they’ll go on,” Edie mused from beside her. Well, she more or less yelled to be heard over the loud music.
“What if they’ve already played?” Kappy hollered in return.
“It’s a contest. They’ll stick around to the end to see who wins.”
Kappy nodded, wishing she had Edie’s confidence, but she knew they weren’t going anywhere until they saw Jeff Baldwin and Baby Sister.
Two more bands were introduced, played, and left the stage. Edie found a program, but there was no set list for the order of the bands. After a few well-timed questions between bands, they learned from the announcer t
hat Baby Sister hadn’t played their turn.
“Maybe we should go to the back area and talk to him,” Kappy suggested.
Edie thought about it a moment. “What if he runs?”
“And you think he’ll stay onstage once he realizes that we are after him?”
“Maybe. I mean, he’s a teenage boy. He’s probably still dreaming of being a rock star. He’s not going to leave the stage when his dreams of fame are so close.”
Kappy thought back to the pressed and proper young man they had met at Pete’s auto-body-repair shop. She was still having trouble believing that young man and the boy on the flyers were the same person.
And the whys still plagued her. Was this truly about his sister dating an Amish boy? Or was there something more sinister at hand?
She shifted nervously. “Shouldn’t we try calling Jack?”
“Do we really have something to tell him?” Edie countered.
“Jah. We do. He needs to come here so we can tell him about Jeff Baldwin. These bands are only playing one song. If we wait until they go up onstage before we call, they’ll be done before Jack gets here.” Blue Sky was small, but not that small.
“Maybe you’re right . . .” Edie looked around as if to find a phone she could borrow. At least that was what Kappy hoped. But it was too late.
An announcer with an earring in his lip and a scruffy beard on his chin announced that Baby Sister was up next.
“Call him, Edie.”
But she seemed frozen in place. “What do we do?”
“Call Jack.”
Edie shook her head. “It’s too late for that.”
“We need the police.” Kappy wasn’t up for running through a cornfield and hiding from a killer again. Though the boy on the stage—it was strange calling him that since he was wearing a dress and pigtails—seemed as harmless as a newborn puppy. And the doubts started to set in. What if they were wrong? What if he didn’t kill Sally June? What if he wasn’t trying to keep Jonah Esh away from his sister?
The loud drumbeat seemed to tick off precious minutes. Time was wasting.
“We’ll go talk to him.”
“What?” Kappy asked.
“That’s the best plan. We’ll wait until they’ve finished, and we’ll go backstage and talk to them . . . him.”
“And then what?”
