Murder Tightly Knit

by Vannetta Chapman

  “Her two extra dresses were gone. She also took her Bible and her knitting bag.” Amber sipped the coffee, but it wasn’t clearing the cobwebs from her head fast enough.

  “Mary carries that bag with her everywhere.” Hannah looked as miserable as Amber felt.

  “I’m not actually surprised. The note warned her to leave.” Amber tapped a nail against the side of her coffee cup. Surely there was a way they could locate Mary. A way to be sure she was all right.

  “But it’s worrisome. What if she’s hurt or lost or confused? What if she’s been . . .” Hannah stumbled over the next word and settled on, “injured, like Owen?”

  Amber wanted to promise her that such a thing couldn’t happen, not again. But her own anxiety was making her jumpy. She’d feel like a fake reassuring Hannah when her own doubts were so strong.

  “Did her parents call the police?”

  “No. They said she’d probably gone to visit a relative. They know she’s been very upset since Owen died. Somehow they didn’t think it so odd she would leave without telling them—maybe she’s more independent than I would have thought—but they assumed she’d informed someone here at the Village. I mentioned Mary hadn’t asked for any time off. When I told her parents that, her mother said maybe she’d forgotten she was scheduled to work.”

  “Doesn’t sound like Mary. And she’s a manager! She cares about her shop. I can’t imagine her just abandoning the place.”

  “I called the police station, but it’s not a criminal matter at this point. She hasn’t been missing long enough, and there’s no sign of foul play. You’d think her getting a warning note like she did, though . . .”

  Hannah stared out the window, and Amber gave her a moment to digest all the new information.

  While she waited, she sipped her coffee and studied Hannah. The girl had endured a lot of stress recently. First Owen’s murder, then worries about Mary, and finally Andrew’s arrest—to say nothing about her natural concern for Jesse. Now Mary seemed to be in real trouble, something bad enough to cause her to leave town.

  “So at the funeral was the last time you saw her?”

  “Yes. Like I said, she told me she wasn’t feeling well and that she was going home. But of course I also saw her the day before, at the viewing. That was when she and Andrew were reading over the note.” Hannah pulled on her kapp strings, worrying them between her fingers.

  Silence enveloped them as they stared at each other. The quiet was broken by Seth, blending something behind the counter. When he finally finished, the lack of noise was a blessed balm.

  “Here. Drink this.” Seth set a fruit drink in front of Hannah. “Lots of vitamins. It’ll help you think.”

  Hannah whispered, “Danki,” but didn’t even attempt a smile.

  Amber leaned forward and claimed the girl’s hands in her own. “We still have hope. God gives us that, right? He tells us to hope in him and that we can trust things will work out as they should.”

  Tears began to fall down Hannah’s face. Seth fidgeted from left foot to right foot, then apparently decided she needed napkins to wipe her face. He brought her a stack several inches tall.

  “I don’t have enough tears left in me to use all of these, Seth.” Her voice wobbled, but she did manage a tiny smile.

  “Ya, but best to be prepared. That’s an important thing I’ve learned from you. When we’re prepared, we’re better able to handle what happens. Like when Mary stopped by here yesterday afternoon.”

  Amber’s heart forgot to beat while she processed what Seth had said. She stared at Hannah. The girl’s expression must have mirrored her own—uncertainty, shock, and beneath that a small measure of hope.

  Hannah had been holding the fruit drink, but she set it down gently on the table and turned her attention to Seth. “Did you say she came by here?”

  “Ya.”

  “Yesterday afternoon?”

  “Ya.”

  “And you didn’t think to tell me before now?”

  Seth stared down at the floor, fidgeting with his suspenders as he tried to think how best to answer. Finally he said, “Didn’t seem important until now.”

  Amber patted the vacant chair next to her. “Sit down, Seth.”

  “Am I in trouble?”

  “Of course you’re not in trouble. Relax.”

  “All right.” He didn’t look relaxed. His shoulders were tight, his eyes moved from right to left, and he couldn’t seem to find a place to put his hands.

  “Start from the beginning, Seth.”

  “You mean the first day I worked here?”

  Hannah closed her eyes, and Amber knew she was counting to ten.

  Amber picked up her coffee and sipped it, trying to appear casual. “No, let’s start with the last time you saw Mary. This was yesterday afternoon?”

  “Ya. It was nearly time to close. I’d mopped the floor and was about to put the chairs back down because it had dried.”

  “Why did she come to the Village? She already had someone covering for her at The Cat’s Meow because she was going to be at the funeral. Was she looking for Hannah?”

  Hannah placed both palms flat against the table and stared directly into Seth’s eyes. “What did she say, exactly?”

  Seth rubbed his forehead as if that would help him to remember. “First, she did ask if you were here. I thought that was odd because she should have known you were at the funeral.”

  “Did she look afraid? Or worried? Or—”

  “She looked like Mary. No different from any other day.”

  Amber smiled at Seth. “You’re doing great. This could be very helpful, Seth. Now, after she asked you if you were alone, what else did she say?”

  “She wanted to know if I’d seen Uri Wagler anywhere around.”

  “Uri Wagler?” Hannah frowned. “He never comes by the Village. Why would she ask about him?”

  “I don’t know, but she seemed relieved when I said no.”

  “Anything else?” Amber was already gathering her keys, coffee, and purse.

  “Nein. She might have wanted to say more, but a customer walked in and she left. Oh. I did notice she had two small bags with her. That’s why I said she looked prepared.”

  “Bags?” Heather stared at him in disbelief. “You didn’t think that odd?”

  “Nein. Why would I? Women carry all sorts of bags. One had her knitting things—I could tell that because some needles were sticking out the top. The other was a plain canvas bag with handles. Like you would use for an overnight case.”

  “Big enough to hold two dresses and a Bible?” Amber asked.

  “Ya. I suppose so.”

  “Thank you, Seth.” Amber stood and tugged on Hannah’s arm. “You’re scheduled to cover the shop for the rest of the day?”

  When he nodded in the affirmative, she said, “We’ll be going now, but if you see Mary again, you call me right away. Understand?”

  “Sure. I’ll call the office.”

  “Call my cell phone, Seth. Here’s a copy of the number if you don’t have it.” She pulled a card from her purse. “You call me if you see Mary or hear anything from her or about her.”

  Hannah allowed herself to be pulled out into the afternoon sunlight. The weather seemed in direct opposition to their moods. It should be cloudy and storming, with lightning striking in a haphazard fashion. Instead, the sun shone with a special brilliance, and the flowers the grounds crew had planted bobbed their colors in the light breeze.

  They followed the path that circled the pond. Amber didn’t stop until they’d reached a bench halfway around the circle. She wanted to give Hannah some distance from the shop. She wanted the fresh air to clear her head. It must have been a shock to learn that Mary had been looking for her moments before she left town.

  “Tell me who Uri is.”

  “He’s no one.” When Amber gave her a tell-me-more stare, she added, “He’s a guy in our church. I don’t see how Mary asking about him could be related.”
/>   “But she did ask about him right before she left. It’s related. Do you know Uri?”

  “Not well.”

  “But you know him.”

  “Ya. Our church is not large. Everyone knows everyone else.”

  “And you know Uri.”

  “Him and his wife, Olivia. No kids, though.” Hannah made a face and stared at the ground.

  “What? What does that look mean?”

  “Nothing. It’s nothing important.”

  “Spill. It could be the one thing that turns us in the right direction. We need to crack this case!”

  “But the police are working the case. You said so.”

  “True. They’re working Owen’s case, but they don’t seem all that concerned about Mary and the note threatening her. She’s the person I’m worried about right now. Her involvement has bothered me since the beginning. Since Owen’s phone was found beside his dead body.”

  “With her number on the screen.”

  “Yes. He called her, apparently seconds before he was shot. Now tell me about Uri and Olivia.”

  Hannah waited to speak until two girls who worked in the restaurant passed by. “Uri and Olivia are not the most pleasant couple in our church.”

  “Go on.”

  “There was some talk of Uri leaving a few years ago, leaving the church and Olivia.”

  “Divorce? I thought that wasn’t allowed among the Amish.”

  “It’s not, but of course the bishop can’t stop someone from leaving the Amish church and seeking a divorce in an Englisch court. The one who is left behind, though, they are considered still married.”

  Amber tried to comprehend that, but before she could fully wrap her mind around it, Hannah continued.

  “Which isn’t important in any way, because Uri came back and everything’s been fine, or if not fine, at least back to normal.”

  “And Mary knows them?”

  “I don’t think she knows them well. Uri and Olivia keep to themselves.”

  Amber checked her watch. A few minutes after three. They had time.

  “Do you know where they live?”

  “Ya.”

  “I want you to take me to them.”

  Forty-One

  Hannah chewed on her thumbnail as they neared the Wagler farm. She didn’t think this would do any good. She didn’t think either Uri or Olivia knew where Mary was. All she was sure of was that her friend was missing, Andrew was still in jail, and Jesse was brokenhearted over the events of the past week. Not to mention Owen was still dead. How much worse could things get?

  “Place looks different from the Amish homes I’ve seen.” Amber drove up a lane toward the tidy one-story home set on a fair-sized acreage. A large barn sat to the south of the house, and a smaller, older barn perched beside it. “Why does it look different?”

  Hannah shrugged. It looked like every other Amish home to her. No power lines. Cattle in the field and two buggy horses in the adjacent pasture.

  Amber released one hand from the steering wheel and snapped her fingers. “No kids, you said. That’s what it is. No bicycles, no tire swing.”

  “Ya. Olivia, she can’t have children. I remember the funeral for the one child she lost. I was probably ten. There haven’t been any other pregnancies since.”

  Hannah hadn’t thought about Olivia’s troubles a lot, other than to feel bad during the baby’s funeral so many years ago. She remembered struggling with the concept of Gotte’s wille, even at that age. Now it was somewhat easier. She did honestly believe that God could be trusted, but there were still times when she had trouble reconciling God’s love with her aching heart.

  Amber parked the car near a hitching post and pushed the button that turned off the engine.

  “Ready?”

  “Ya.” Hannah didn’t feel prepared at all, but she couldn’t let Amber go up there alone. More than likely, Olivia wouldn’t even answer the door if Amber had arrived by herself on her porch.

  They stood together, side by side and close enough that their shoulders touched. They waited after Amber knocked. Amber motioned toward the boxes of jars stacked near the front door. Hannah shrugged, but now that she was studying them, she thought something was amiss. What was it?

  Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps, and then Olivia opened the door.

  Perhaps it was the afternoon light, or maybe it was because she was seeing her without the noise and color of the other Amish women around, but weariness seemed to roll off Olivia. She was thin to the point of unhealthiness, and there was no color in her face. Even her brown eyes were lighter than Hannah remembered—almost a beige, as if the many tears she had cried had drained them of their color. Olivia Wagler looked like a waif Hannah had read about in a book at school.

  “Hannah.”

  “Hello, Olivia. This is Amber, she’s—”

  “I know who she is.” Olivia didn’t smile, she didn’t speak directly to Amber, and she didn’t invite them in.

  “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Wagler.” Amber cinched her purse up on her shoulder. “We would like to ask you a few questions about Mary.”

  When Olivia didn’t say anything, she added, “Mary Weaver.”

  “I can’t tell you anything about Mary.” Olivia made a move to close the door, but Amber stepped forward and put her hand against the screen that separated them.

  “She’s disappeared.” The words whirled, then settled around the three women. The full weight of what might have happened to Mary seemed to hang between them.

  Finally Olivia shrugged and pushed open the screen door. “Can’t help you, and I’m in the middle of carrying my canning to the shelter. You’re free to follow me if it will put your mind at ease.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Danki.”

  Hannah glanced toward Amber, who beamed. If she thought visiting with Olivia was going to gain her any answers, she was in for a rude awakening. Hannah had seen her boss in this mood before, when they were searching for Ethan’s killer. She could be more focused than a dog gnawing on a bone. There was no stopping her until she found the answers to her questions, even when that put her in danger.

  Not that they would be in any danger here.

  The worst that could happen would be that Olivia wouldn’t offer them tea or a snack. Hospitality wasn’t high on Olivia’s list of social skills.

  Olivia had always seemed more than a tad peculiar to Hannah, though she hadn’t said that exactly to Amber. It seemed rude. It seemed as if she were betraying a confidence. But everyone within the community knew it. Olivia didn’t fit in, had never even tried to fit in. Yes, there was the fact that she was childless, but that alone shouldn’t have caused the chasm that existed between this family and the community.

  No, something else was wrong.

  She’d asked her mother about it once, and Eunice had reminded her, “We each learn to live with grief in our own way.”

  Olivia bent to pick up a box of the canning jars. There were so many. Hannah knew all about canning. She’d asked for a day off next week to help her mother do theirs. But even with their large family, they didn’t have this many jars. How had Olivia canned so much? Why had she canned so much?

  “We’ll help you carry these over.” Amber bent and picked up one of the boxes, practically staggering under the weight.

  Olivia shrugged and proceeded down the porch and across the yard.

  “Grab a box,” Amber muttered. “If we help, maybe she’ll soften up.”

  “Doubtful.” But Hannah did pick up a box. Hers looked like it was half filled with pickled okra and half filled with stewed tomatoes.

  They hurried to catch up with Olivia, who wasn’t acknowledging their presence in any way. Hannah was surprised when they stopped in front of the old barn. Most folks kept their canned goods closer to the house, in a basement usually. Olivia paused in front of the barn and set her box on the ground. She fished in her apron pocket for a key, unlocked the door, and then picked up the box
and carried it into the barn.

  Who locked their storage area? No one Hannah knew.

  Amber darted a look toward Hannah, her eyes scrunched together and her nose wrinkled. Apparently she wasn’t sure about entering the barn, so Hannah stepped in front of her. They both stopped as soon as they walked a few feet into the room, as soon as their eyes adjusted to the near darkness. Small slivers of light shone in from a few unblocked windows high up in the lofts. Olivia stopped and turned on a battery-operated lantern, which illuminated the room.

  The scene in front of her was unlike anything Hannah had ever seen in a barn before. It reminded her of the time she’d gone with her old boss, Carol, to the wholesale dry-goods store outside of Shipshewana. There was so much stuff—more than Hannah could imagine ever needing. Shelves lined all four walls, floor to ceiling. Many of the items on the shelves she recognized, but a few she didn’t.

  “Vegetables to the left. Fruits to the right.” Olivia carried her box to the right.

  “What do I have?” Amber whispered.

  “Chowchow.” Hannah nodded to the left, to the area where her box went.

  “This year’s canning goes on the left end of each shelf. I choose from the right to cook so I use the oldest goods first.”

  “Do you sell some of this?” Amber placed her jars on the shelf Hannah indicated and then turned in a complete circle, taking in the large room and the vast store of supplies.

  “Sell it? Nein. The purpose of storing these goods is so we’ll have what we need.”

  “I’d say you have enough to last several years.”

  “That’s the idea.” Uri Wagler’s voice was flat and low and meant to put an end to any discussion.

  Hannah jumped in spite of her intention to remain calm. She nearly dropped her box, which she’d been holding as she struggled to make space for it.

  Either Amber didn’t pick up on Uri’s tone or she chose to ignore it. “You must be Mr. Wagler. Pleased to meet you.”

  She didn’t offer her hand, which was smart in Hannah’s opinion, but she also kept talking, which probably wasn’t so smart. “You have a lovely home and . . . storage area.”