Geez, was there something in the water? “What happened? Did he die recently, too?”
Anna folded the letter and placed it back inside of its envelope. “He died fifteen years ago. He fell off the roof of a barn.”
“That’s terrible.” I winced. Many Amish barns rose thirty feet from the ground. “So his death was an accident?”
“That’s what we’ve always thought,” my aunt said hesitantly.
Anna pushed her glasses up her nose. “You think differently now, Eleanor?”
“The quilt makes me think—”
“Now you think he was murdered?” Martha asked. “After all this time?”
My aunt pursed her lips. “Evelyn thought so.”
“Because she was crazy,” Martha said.
Rachel placed a hand on her round stomach. “Martha!”
Martha shook her head. “Rachel, we all know it’s true. Evelyn Schmidt was as crazy as a bat.”
Aunt Eleanor’s hands shook ever so slightly. “Evelyn was troubled, but we should honor her memory.”
Martha shook her scissors at us. “I prefer to remember her as she really was, instead of some fairy tale about who she was. At least when her husband was alive, there was someone to care for her and control her. After her husband passed away, her obsession with her son’s death only became worse.”
I held up my hands like a traffic cop. “Can someone tell me what you are all talking about?”
Rachel rubbed her stomach. “Eric Schmidt fell from a barn roof during a barn raising. Evelyn, his mother, always said that it wasn’t an accident. She believed he was pushed.”
“What did the police say?” I asked.
They stared at me.
I raised my eyebrows. “What? Do have I have powdered sugar on my sweater?” Sadly, I had succumbed to temptation and eaten one of Rachel’s doughnuts. It was worth the juice cleanse. Trust me.
“The police were never called,” Anna said. “That is not the Amish way.”
“Why did Evelyn think he was pushed?” I asked.
Anna held her teacup. “She always claimed her son was too surefooted to accidentally fall from the roof.”
I scooted forward in my seat. “If the police weren’t called, how do you know it was an accident?”
Aunt Eleanor gave me an approving nod. “A very gut question, Angie. At the very least, I need to deliver this quilt to Lily. It was Evelyn’s dying wish.”
“Aenti, you know the doctors said you shouldn’t leave the house unless you have a medical appointment.”
She scowled. “My friend trusted me to do this. Unless someone would like to go in my place.”
The other three Amish women suddenly were very interested in their quilting.
“I can take the quilt to her,” I said. “Where would I find Lily Eby?”
Aunt Eleanor beamed at me. “Her husband’s family owns Eby Amish Mercantile on Sugartree Street in Rolling Brook. It’s only a block from Running Stitch.”
“That sounds easy enough. I’ll give her the quilt and ask her if she remembers Eric. Will that fulfill your obligation to Evelyn?”
My aunt smiled. “Ya. You are a gut girl, Angie.”
Martha dropped her scissors into her lap. “Angie, you can’t just walk into an Amish store and ask questions like you run the place. The Amish won’t talk to you. You’re Englisch.”
I arched an eyebrow at her. “Maybe one of you should come with me then.”
“Oh, ya,” Aunt Eleanor said. “One of you should accompany Angie to the general store. You will look like you are showing my niece around town.”
Martha patted her prayer cap as if to make sure it was still in place. “I see no reason to do this for Evelyn, Eleanor. May the poor woman rest in peace, but she was ill and is asking you to perform a fool’s errand from beyond the grave.”
Rachel lowered her voice. “I heard she even went to an Englisch doctor for medicine to calm her nerves.”
Anna peered at Rachel over her reading glasses. “She was troubled, this is true. But what if she was right and the rest of us were wrong?”
My aunt nodded agreement at Anna’s comment as if happy to have another ally.
Rachel wrung her hands. “If she was right, that breaks my heart. Not just for Eric, but for Evelyn because no one believed her.” She hung her head. “Including me.”
“For gut reason,” Martha said. “You know even Evelyn’s bishop said she was ill.”
Had Evelyn suffered from dementia or paranoia? Both? I found myself wondering what my aunt’s friends meant when they said that Evelyn was ill.
“Assuming that Evelyn had a good reason to give the quilt to Lily, why did she choose her?” I asked.
Rachel’s eyes went wide. “Because Lily is a Wittmer, or at least she was before she married.”
Anna nodded with understanding. “That’s right, Eric fell from the Wittmer barn.”
“That’s something,” I said. “Were Eric and Lily close?”
Martha began piecing bits of triangle fabric together with straight pins, and I saw the beginning of a Shoofly quilt square designed with four triangles facing inward toward a square. “Nee, but I think she was being courted by Cooper Mueller at the time. He was Eric’s gut friend. I’m quite a bit older than all of them, but I remember seeing those two boys together often.” She peered at me. “Actually, Angie, they all would be around your age now.”
I would have been eighteen when Eric died. His young age seemed to give his death more bite. If my father had never gotten that job in Texas and we had stayed in Ohio, I would likely have known Eric. Maybe I would have even been at the barn raising when he fell.
“If we are going to talk to any of the Wittmer girls, I would think that it would be Violet. She and Eric were courting when he died. That makes more sense to me than talking to Lily.”
So Eric and Cooper were courting sisters. “Where can we find Violet?” I asked.
Anna smiled. “That’s easy. She’s my niece.”
I blinked. “Your niece?”
Anna nodded. “She married my husband’s nephew a year or two after the accident. She and her husband are very happy together and have five children.”
Rachel folded her hands over her stomach. “But the note clearly says to talk to Lily, not Violet.”
Anna tapped a finger to her cheek. “Interesting that she would say Lily.”
“Everything Evelyn did was interesting,” Martha muttered. “But she also made little sense. She was a master quilter, don’t get me wrong, but that was the only area where she retained control.”
Rachel frowned. “It’s just so hard to believe it wasn’t an accident. If Eric was pushed, wouldn’t someone have seen something? There would have been dozens of workers climbing in and around a barn during a raising, not to mention women and children milling around on the ground below.”
“True.” Aunt Eleanor gave a thoughtful nod. “I remember that day clearly. I was there. My Jacob was one of the men working on the barn, and I led a quilting frolic under a shade tree just a few paces away. It was a beautiful summer day. You couldn’t imagine anything bad happening on a day like that. And I didn’t know that anything had until I heard the men yelling for help at Eric’s fall.” She closed her eyes. “Evelyn was one of my quilters. I was there when she was told it was her son.”
“Did you see something to make you think it was anything other than an accident?” I asked.
“Nee. The quilting frolic was on the opposite side of the barn.” She gripped the edge of the quilt. “It was so long ago. Of course, I can’t remember all the details.”
“What about Evelyn? Could she have seen anything? What made her think it wasn’t accident?”
My aunt shook her head. “Evelyn sat right next to me
. She could not have seen her son fall, either. As for what made her think her son was pushed, I don’t know. At the moment of the accident, she went into a shock. Her husband rushed her home.”
I folded the appliqué quilt and tucked it back into my quilting bag. I wasn’t able to concentrate on my stitches. “Maybe that is why Evelyn wants Aenti to talk to Lily. Maybe she thinks Lily saw something.”
“But Lily never said anything,” Martha argued.
Anna peered at Martha over her glasses. “You know as well as the rest of us do that it’s not the Amish way to speak up. Fifteen years ago, a young Amish woman like Lily would be afraid to speak a word if she suspected something, especially after the bishop declared it an accident.”
Martha pursed her lips.
“Do the Wittmers still live on that farm?” I asked.
They looked at me as if I were crazy. “Ya,” Anna said. “They still live there. The Amish aren’t ones for moving around much.”
My brow shot up. “Didn’t you mention Lily’s married name was Eby? I thought you said that she was being courted by a boy with the last name of Mueller.”
“She was,” Anna said. “But she and Cooper Mueller broke it off. Now that you mention it, it wasn’t long after Eric died that I saw her on a buggy ride not with Cooper Mueller, but with Ira Eby.”
“That can’t be a coincidence.” I stood. “Now I’m curious. The general store should be open by now. I think I’ll head over there.”
Rachel placed a hand on my arm. “Wait, Angie.”
“They won’t talk to you, remember?” Martha said. “You’re an Englischer.”
My face fell. “Maybe they will. I can tell them I’m Eleanor’s niece.”
Anna folded her quilting back into her basket. “They may not talk to you, Angie, but they will speak to me. I always enjoy a visit to the Ebys’ store, anyway. Why don’t I tag along?”
I grinned at her. “I’d love the company.”
Aunt Eleanor held the quilt out to me. “Take care, my dear.”
I didn’t know if she wanted me to take care of the quilt, myself, or both.
Chapter Three
Rachel needed to return to the bakery, and it was time for Martha to open Running Stitch for the day. The pair left for Rolling Brook in Martha’s buggy as Anna drove her horse and buggy into my aunt’s empty barn. It would be warmer for her horse there while we visited Eby Amish Mercantile. I waited by my rental car, jumping from foot to foot to stay warm. Oliver stood close by, scanning the area for chickens. The temperature had dropped several degrees since our adventure that morning, so the feisty chickens clucked and squawked from the comfort of their coop on the other side of the yard.
Anna crossed the yard. “My old horse, Maggie, will be snug in the barn until we get back. I don’t like to leave her out for too long in this cold. She’s a gut horse but easily spooked. For one thing, she hates it when deer jump out on the road.”
First crazed chickens, now jumping deer. What other animal attacks do I have worry about next?
Anna stopped dead a few feet from my rental car. “What is that?”
“What?” My eyes flitted around the frozen countryside, searching for those attacking deer.
“Your car. Could you get one any bigger?”
I flushed as she gawked at the bright red Expedition. The enormous SUV was built like a tank. It was the biggest car available from the Akron-Canton airport. “I wanted something safe with good traction. I’ve never driven in snow before.”
“This isn’t the Rocky Mountains,” Anna grumbled as she opened the door. “This is like climbing onto the top of a combine.”
I sighed. “It’s not that big.” I opened the back door for Oliver.
“Really?” She peered at me over her glasses. “Then why does your dog look like he’s afraid to jump in?”
I ignored her last comment and gave Oliver a boost into the backseat. “Let’s just go.”
The drive into Rolling Brook would have taken a half hour by buggy, but Anna and I were there under ten minutes. I drove through the main shopping district on Sugartree Street and slowed in front of Running Stitch. The shop’s green awning was half buried in snow. The lights were off and the closed sign hung from a chain in the large picture window. Anna and I had passed Martha’s buggy on the way into town. Emotions washed over me as I slowed the car in front of the shop. The last time I saw the quilt shop, I was just a child, and my aunt was well, helping customers and teaching me how to quilt in the Amish style.
Anna patted my hand gripping the steering wheel. “We’ll visit the store later. First, let’s talk to Lily Eby. I can’t say that I believe Evelyn was right about Eric’s death, but I’m happy to do anything that will keep Eleanor’s spirits up and her mind off her illness. You being here has brightened her mood so much.”
My throat tightened. “I should have visited more often.”
“You are here now. That is enough.” Anna pointed down the street. “The market is at the very end of the road.”
I rolled the monster SUV down the street behind a horse and buggy. An Amish boy waved at us through the buggy’s back window. The buggy turned off, and Eby Amish Mercantile came into view. Unlike the other businesses on the street, the Amish general store had a small parking lot on its south side. Horses and buggies were the only transportation in the parking lot. Leather reins tethered the horses to two hitching posts and dark-colored blankets protected the horses from the biting February wind.
“In the summertime, the store, the whole town, is overrun by Englischers from the city. This time of year, the tourists come less frequently. It is nice to have a break from all the outside chatter the city folks bring,” Anna said.
I turned into the parking lot. “Do the Amish shops have trouble making it through the winter because business drops so much?”
Anne paused a moment in thought before she replied. “I’m sure they struggle, but Gott has taught us there will be fat times and there will be lean times. All Amish know this. We prepare and live within our means.”
I turned off the Expedition and followed Anna from the car. Oliver leapt out of the backseat and snuffled the ground, taking in all the country town smells. I snapped his leash onto his collar while holding Evelyn’s quilt tightly against my chest with my other hand. Behind Anna, I slid across the snowy lot in my tennis shoes. She walked confidently in her sturdy boots. Eyeing my footwear, she said, “It’s much more practical to have boots with a gut tread in this snow than to have a monster car.”
“We don’t have snow in Dallas. I didn’t think it was worth buying snow boots for a few days.”
She tightened her bonnet ribbons. “You will change your mind when you land hard on your bottom.”
“I’ll be fine,” I said as I slipped a little but regained my balance at the last second.
She sniffed. “Why does Oliver have snow boots and you don’t?”
I scratched Oliver in his favorite spot between the ears. “And maybe I am more concerned with my dog’s footwear than my own.” I grinned. “I don’t have a problem being that person.”
She just shook her head. “You will need to leave him outside. Ira Eby will not want a dog in his store, especially one wearing boots and a sweater.”
I tied Oliver’s leash to a park bench by the front door. Thankfully, the angle of the building blocked most of the wind, so he would be fine there for a few short minutes.
A cowbell rang when we stepped into the store. Every head in the room turned to us and focused on me. I was the oddball in the room, the only one in English clothes.
Anna elbowed me. “Just go on now. They will stop staring when you start moving.”
I stumbled forward and nearly took out a hand-dipped candle display. The candles, hanging by their cotton wicks from horizontal wooden rods, swung crazi
ly as I straightened their rack.
“Anna, it is gut to see you,” an energetic male voice said. “Weren’t you in here a week last Monday for your monthly supplies? Was there something else you needed?” The speaker was an Amish man close to my age with a thick brown Amish beard. He wiped his hands on a red bandanna.
Anna removed her black leather gloves. “You have a gut memory, Ira. I’m here with Eleanor’s niece. She’s visiting from Texas. I thought I would show her around Rolling Brook.”
“Ahh.” He hooked his thumbs through his suspenders. “And how is Eleanor? I’m sorry not to see her about the town much anymore and dearly miss her at the shopkeeper meetings.”
“Today is a gut day. Angie and I were just with her.”
“I thank the Lord for that.” The man thrust his hand out to me. The back of it was covered with a thick layer of hair. “Ira Eby. Welcome to my family’s store.”
“It’s nice to meet you. Angie Braddock,” I said in turn.
“Can I help you find anything? Perhaps an Amish trinket that you can take home as a gift?” His eyes twinkled. “I’ve found visitors especially like the little wooden horses and buggies that I buy from the old woodworker in town.”
A bright blue marble rolled across the floor and bounced off of my shoe.
Ira frowned. “Kenneth!”
Seconds later a brown-haired boy stepped out of one of the aisles. He carried a leather pouch in one hand.
“What did I tell you about playing marbles in the store?” his father asked. “Someone could trip over them and get hurt.”
Kenneth dropped his chin to his chest. “I’m sorry, Daed.”
“We will talk about it later.” his father promised.
Kenneth collected his marble and slunk away.
He smiled at Anna and me. “That’s quite a quilt that you have. Are you interested in selling it to the store? I know Eleanor makes a nice living off of her quilt sales.”
I shook my head. “It’s a gift . . .”
“If you change your mind, let me know. I would love to start selling quilts in the store, but so far Running Stitch is the only shop with quilts in town.”
Plainly Murder Page 2
