“Oh no,” Charlotte whispered, staring at the two men.
“What is it? Do you know them?” I asked.
She swallowed. “It’s the district’s deacon and my father.” Her voice held so much despair that I wanted to tell her to go hide in the church until they left, but it was too late. They had already seen her and were headed our way.
Chapter 5
The younger of the two Amish men, the deacon, strode toward us. The second man followed at a more sedate pace, allowing the deacon to take the lead. I’d lived in Ohio for only a few weeks now, but when I was young, I spent my summers here with my grandparents. The man walking in my direction was by far the youngest deacon I’d ever seen.
“He’s your deacon?” I whispered to Charlotte as I helped her to her feet. I thought it would be better for Charlotte if she met the two men with the stern expressions standing up.
“Ya,” she whispered. “It’s Deacon Clapp.”
The name tickled the back of my memory. Clapp wasn’t the deacon in my grandmother’s district. That was elderly Deacon Yoder. However, I remembered the name because Ruth Yoder, Deacon Yoder’s wife, had just been in Swissmen Sweets complaining about the new “upstart” deacon in Harvest. Ruth had nothing kind to say about the man. But then again, Ruth didn’t have anything kind to say about anyone, as far as I could tell.
Charlotte’s father stepped in front of the deacon. “Charlotte, we’ve come to take you home. It’s time for you to give up this foolishness and take your place in the community.”
Charlotte gripped my arm and didn’t reply. I looked down at the girl and saw that her pink mouth was set in a line. I wouldn’t describe her expression as scared. No, her face appeared resigned, as if she had been expecting this moment for some time.
When it was clear Charlotte wasn’t going to speak, I said, “Maybe I can help.”
The deacon focused on me with blue eyes. “Who are you?”
His question was blunt. It was not an uncommon characteristic of the Amish to get right to the point of a conversation. Many didn’t bother with small talk or pleasantries because they viewed those things as a waste of time. Their time could be much better spent working. Working, being productive, was the number one priority of the Amish. Since I also had a strong work ethic, which I must have inherited from my Amish grandparents, I could appreciate that. However, a simple “Hello, my name is . . .” would have been nice.
“I’m Bailey King.” I held out my hand. Neither man made a move to shake it, so I let my arm fall to my side.
Clapp pressed his eyebrows together in a dark line. “You’re Jebidiah King’s granddaughter. The one who is working in the candy shop now. The one from New York City.”
“I am,” I said, meeting his eyes.
“I’m Charlotte’s deacon, and this is her father, Sol. We’re here to take her home.” He turned to Charlotte, and I had the very odd sensation of being slighted by the deacon. It wasn’t that I wanted his approval, but it was almost as if confirming my identity was all he needed to dismiss me. An Englischer from New York was of no consequence to the people of Harvest or Holmes County. I wasn’t part of their community. I wasn’t Amish. That’s what it all boiled down to.
“Charlotte,” Sol said, “it is time to leave.”
The girl took a step back, and I couldn’t help but wonder what it was about home that she was so reluctant to return to it.
She shook her head. “I’m not going with you, Daed.”
Her father scowled at her. “You’re leaving with us now. The deacon has been kind enough to come with me to collect you. You won’t insult him or shame me by refusing to join us.”
“Why didn’t you bring your own buggy? There are plenty of buggies.”
I found this statement as odd. Why would Charlotte fixate on buggies?
“Charlotte,” the deacon said in a cool voice, “it is my duty to support my flock, and that includes you. You are one of my lost sheep.”
I made a face. I couldn’t help it.
Charlotte let go of my arm and balled her hands at her sides. A little part of me wanted to cheer. I was glad she was angered by his patronizing tone.
“I cannot leave.” Her voice was even.
“You choose to stay and indulge in Englisch music?” The deacon narrowed his eyes. “Your family and I are very distressed that you continue with the Englisch music. It is time for you to come home and take your place in the community.”
I almost laughed. He acted like Charlotte had fled the Amish community to join a rock band, not walked into a church to play the organ. I couldn’t think of a less controversial instrument.
“You have brought shame on your community and your family,” Deacon Clapp said.
Charlotte lifted her chin. “It’s nonsense. Doesn’t the Bible say that people should make a joyful noise? That’s what I’m doing. It is how I choose to praise Gott. You are telling me there is a right and a wrong way to honor Gott. I don’t believe that.”
Her father took a quick intake of breath at his daughter’s words.
The deacon narrowed his eyes. “It is not your place to choose how Gott should be praised. It is my job to tell you the right and wrong thing to do, and what you are doing is wrong. It is my duty to tell you this. You are going against our ways, and I am here to take you home. Put these ideas behind you. You are old enough now to make your choice. It is time that you decide to be baptized in the church.”
Charlotte’s father winced, and he said something in Pennsylvania Dutch that I didn’t understand. Whatever it was, I know that it must have been addressed to Charlotte. She stared at her father with so much naked hurt that it made my heart ache.
The deacon reached out and grabbed Charlotte by the arm. She tried to pull away from him, but his grip tightened. She struggled against his grasp.
I grabbed his hand. “Let her go.”
He glared at me. “Do not touch me, Englischer.”
“Let go of her arm,” I said in measured tones.
“This is none of your concern,” he snapped.
“I’m making it my concern. Let her go.”
Charlotte wrenched her arm away from him. She stepped slightly behind me. I dropped my hand from his hand like I had been burnt.
The deacon narrowed his eyes. “You do not know what trouble you are causing this girl, Englischer. You’re only making it more difficult for her, and you are corrupting her with your ways.”
Charlotte and I had just met less than an hour ago. I didn’t know how I could already be corrupting her.
“I’m not going with you,” Charlotte said, and then looked at her father. “I am sorry, Daed, but I’m not going with either of you.”
The deacon glared at the girl. “Gott does not look kindly on those who disobey.”
“I may not be following your wishes, but I am following Gotte’s.” She lifted her chin.
“My wishes and Gotte’s wishes are the same. He chose me as the deacon. Did he not?”
I folded my arms. “That is quite a strong statement—to say that your wishes are equal to God’s.”
Clapp glared at me again. “This is none of your concern, Englischer.”
“Yes, it is. Even if Charlotte wanted to go with you, which she clearly doesn’t, she can’t leave.”
“And why not?” her father asked.
“Because . . .” I trailed off, unsure how to tell these men that a member of their district had been found dead, shoved into the church organ, the same organ that they believed it was a sin for Charlotte to play. And how could I tell Charlotte’s father that the victim was his sister-in-law? This all felt a little bit above my pay grade.
“Bailey is right; she can’t leave,” a strong male voice said from behind us on the church steps.
I turned. Aiden stood in the church doorway. Standing there, looking down at us, he sort of resembled Moses standing on Mount Sinai. However, he was wearing a blue sheriff’s deputy’s uniform instead of biblical robes.
Briefly Aiden met my eyes, but I couldn’t read his expression. I wished I had the same talent of hiding my own feelings so easily, but they were always clearly written on my face. No one ever had to wonder how I felt about something. My daadi used to say this openness was a gift from God. Because of it, I would have an easier time connecting with others. I wasn’t so sure of that. I thought it was something that put me at a disadvantage because others could see where I stood on something even before I knew myself.
“Why are the police here?” the deacon snapped. He looked behind him and seemed to see the ambulance, Sheriff’s Department vehicles, and coroner’s car for the first time. “What’s going on?”
Sol’s face turned very pale.
Charlotte covered her mouth as if to hold back a sob.
Little appeared in the doorway behind Aiden. He poked his head over Aiden’s shoulder like a groundhog peeking out of his burrow. Aiden jerked away from him and stepped out of the doorway.
“Deputy Little,” Aiden said, “take Miss Weaver inside and begin the questioning. I’ll fill in Deacon Clapp and Mr. Weaver.”
Charlotte shot her father a pleading look. He stared back at her as if his face was made from polished stone. There was no expression. I bit the inside of my lip. My father and I didn’t always get along, that was for certain, but he had never looked at me with so much unconcern. If he ever had, it would have broken my heart. From the look on Charlotte’s face, it broke hers.
Chapter 6
Charlotte and Deputy Little disappeared back inside the church, and I found myself studying Deacon Clapp and Sol Weaver. The deacon looked defiantly at Aiden while Sol fidgeted with the brim of his felt hat in his calloused hands. What had caused these men to be so harsh? There had to be a reason.
“You owe me an explanation, Deputy,” Clapp said. “You have no power over that girl. Her father and I are the ones who should be directing her where to go and what to do.”
His statement immediately put my teeth on edge, and I was grateful for the hundredth time since I’d moved to Holmes County that I wasn’t Amish. As much as I loved and respected my grandmother and the peace that her community gave her, I could never live under so much restriction. I would have felt strangled. I had a feeling that was how Charlotte felt right now.
Aiden glanced at me. “Bailey, we need some privacy.”
I blinked. “Oh, of course. I’m sorry.”
He nodded and turned to the two men. “Let’s talk by your buggy, where we won’t be overheard.”
Without a backward glance at me, the three men walked to the far side of the polished black buggy out of my line of sight.
A horn honked and shook me out of my daze. I turned and found the front end of a hearse just a few feet away from me. I stumbled out of the way in the direction of the buggy. Beside the hearse, an ambulance pulled up in front of the church, forcing me closer to the buggy. Three EMTs hopped out of the ambulance and jogged up the church steps into the building with military precision.
A third vehicle came, and this was another Sheriff’s Department car. SHERIFF was emblazoned on the side of the vehicle. Without a thought in my head, I ran around the side of the buggy. The last person on earth that I wanted to see again was Sheriff Jack Marshall. He and I had not gotten off on the right foot when I’d met him in September.
The sheriff climbed out of his SUV and readjusted his belt as he surveyed the parking lot.
I ducked behind the buggy to avoid being seen.
“What is this all about?” Clapp was asking in a sharp voice on the other side of the buggy.
I peeked around the side and spied Aiden, the deacon, and Charlotte’s father standing in a tight circle at the edge of the parking lot about twelve feet from where I was hiding from the sheriff. I grimaced. I knew that I should not be overhearing this conversation. I looked over my shoulder. Sheriff Marshall was still standing by his SUV. I was stuck unless I wanted to reveal my location to one of them, which I did not.
Aiden looked from the deacon to Sol and back again. “I’m sorry to tell you, but the body of an Amish woman was discovered in the church earlier today.”
“Someone has died?” Sol asked.
Aiden nodded. “I’m afraid so.”
“Who?” Sol’s voice was hoarse.
“It is your sister-in-law, Josephine Weaver,” Aiden said. “I’m very sorry.”
Sol’s face grew even paler. I didn’t know how that was possible. The man was already as white as bleached coral.
“Sol, are you all right?” Aiden asked, leaning toward the other man.
“How did she die?” Sol asked. “What happened?”
“We aren’t certain yet. The coroner will have to make that determination,” Aiden said and then turned to the deacon. “When was the last time you saw Josephine Weaver?”
The deacon scowled. “Why are you asking me this? What does it matter when the last time I saw her was?”
Aiden hooked one thumb over his duty belt, and the gun holstered there shifted ever so slightly. I don’t know if he did that on purpose, but to me, it felt intentional.
Aiden nodded at Deacon Clapp. “You’re the deacon of her district, are you not? Just as you like to know where Charlotte Weaver is, I assume that you keep tabs on her aunt and all the members of your church?”
The deacon straightened his shoulders. “I do, but I can’t tell you the last time I saw Josephine. My best guess would be that I saw her two weeks ago at our last Sunday morning service. She is always there.”
“Did you speak to her that day?” Aiden asked.
“Nee,” Clapp said as if he was biting down on something hard.
Aiden turned to Sol. “And when was the last time you saw your sister-in-law?”
He frowned. “She stopped by the buggy shop yesterday afternoon.”
Aiden’s eyebrows went up. “The buggy shop?”
“Weaver Buggy Company. It is on State Route 39. It is my family business. Josephine stops in often to talk to me.”
Aiden’s eyebrows went even higher. “And why is that?”
Sol clenched his jaw. “Because I’m the head of the family, and if she has concerns, she must discuss them with me. That is our way.”
“Did Josephine have concerns?” Aiden asked.
“Josephine always had concerns,” Sol said. “She liked to have her hand in many things. Some of which had nothing to do with her.”
“And did she express any concerns this last visit?”
Sol winced as if he regretted telling Aiden about the concerns part. He didn’t answer.
Aiden shifted his hand on his belt again. “Sol, please answer my question.”
Sol glanced at the deacon, and the deacon gave him a slight nod as if granting some type of permission. “She was concerned about Charlotte. She felt, as the rest of the family does, that Charlotte should not play the organ in the Englisch church.”
“Did Josephine feel more strongly about this than the rest of you?”
“We have all been upset about it, but ya, my sister-in-law has been the most outspoken of all.”
“And how did she seem yesterday afternoon?” Aiden asked.
“Seem? What do you mean?” Sol’s red eyebrows came together.
“Was she upset?” Aiden rephrased his question.
Sol nodded. “She was upset. My sister-in-law was always upset. It was her way.”
“Josephine Weaver is a busybody,” Clapp interjected. “She always has been. She had no place addressing Charlotte’s behavior. It’s up to Sol and me to deal with Charlotte, not her aunt.”
Aiden shifted his weight. “Can you give me another example of how she may have been a busybody? Was she upset by the behavior of others in your district besides Charlotte?”
“She wasn’t happy that an Englischer was participating in the Amish Confectionery Competition,” Sol said. “She also complained to me about that and said she planned to get the Englischer removed.”
I winced. I kn
ew that Josephine had been talking about me, and I was certain that Aiden knew it too. There went all my hopes of not being a suspect in this murder investigation.
Aiden turned to the deacon. “As her deacon, did Josephine speak to you about Charlotte or anyone else?”
“Nee.” The deacon folded his arms. “I don’t have anything else to say. Of course, I am sorry that Josephine is dead. We mourn when any person in our community passes. We mourn when any of Gotte’s children are lost. The funeral will give use closure.”
“I understand that, but I have an investigation to conduct.” Aiden folded his arms.
“Why? What investigation?” the deacon snapped.
Aiden shaded his eyes from the sun, which was now high in the sky. “Deacon Clapp, Josephine’s body was discovered inside the organ of this church. It is impossible for me to believe that she died inside the organ by her own choice.”
Sol gasped, but the deacon gave no visible sign of surprise. He simply shook his head. “I never expected Charlotte to take her determination to play the organ so far.”
It was my turn to gasp. I was surprised that the deacon was ready to name one of his own as a possible killer. He might as well have put her head on a silver platter for Aiden with a sign proclaiming her guilt.
“Deacon,” Sol began, “I cannot believe that my daughter would do such a thing.”
“Then who else would? Who else could have been in that church with her?” the deacon wanted to know.
Sol clamped his mouth shut, and despite the October chill in the air, beads of sweat popped up on his forehead.
Aiden cocked his head. “And how would a girl of Charlotte’s size put her aunt inside the organ?”
Clapp pulled on his beard. “She had help then. It could have been from any number of the Englischers that she was fraternizing with here.”
“You seem to be surprisingly eager to pin Josephine’s death on a member of your own church district,” Aiden said.
“Charlotte is barely a member of my district any longer. All signs point to her leaving the church. It is always easy to pick out those on rumspringa who are tempted by the world and cannot follow the Amish way. She has been one of those from the start.”
Lethal Licorice Page 4
