Stars for Lydia

by P. L. Gaus

  “With all those Amish people?”

  “Right. And yes, we do have an appointment.”

  The two men waited for half an hour in padded reception room chairs, and when Paul Culp came out to greet them, Ricky displayed his badge again. Culp showed them into a small front office with a desk and two chairs placed in front of it, and as they sat down, the professor said, “We are here about Mary Yost. She was supposed to see you last Saturday.”

  Culp sat behind his desk and pulled his chair in. He flipped a few pages in his desk calendar and said, “We never saw her.”

  “Did she have an appointment?” Ricky asked. “What can you tell us about her?”

  “An Amish lady from Holmes County?” Culp asked. “It was the Schells who arranged the appointment. Honestly, the way my wife explained it to me, we were supposed to go down to Millersburg, eventually. Sometime this week. To speak with Mary Yost’s husband.”

  “Did you intend to stay?” Branden asked.

  “I couldn’t say. It would have depended on what we found there. Nancy is more familiar with this. She spoke with the Schells.”

  “Can we talk with Nancy?” Ricky asked.

  “She’s in a session. Won’t be finished for another thirty minutes. You’d have to wait.”

  “We can do that,” Ricky said. “Back out in the lobby?”

  Culp shook his head with a smile. “No. We’ve got a more comfortable place than that,” and he showed Branden and Niell into a counseling room, with two soft lounging chairs and a straight-backed armchair. A small desk was angled into the corner.

  When Nancy Culp appeared, Ricky was leaning back in one of the loungers, and Branden was seated in the armchair. Paul Culp followed into the room behind his wife.

  The Culps were genteel people. Round and delicate. Soft and placid. Careful by practice, the professor suspected, not to aggravate or to startle.

  Nancy took the lounger next to Niell, and Paul sat at the corner desk. Looking to each of Branden and Niell, Nancy said gently and softly, “We got a call from Donna Schell. That’s about all we know. We cleared our weekend schedule, because Donna said it was somewhat of an emergency, and we waited here at the office. Nobody showed up. Neither Saturday nor Sunday. We were ready, too, but she didn’t show up, or call.”

  “Is Donna Schell the excitable type?” the professor asked. “Maybe too quick to call for help?”

  “Anything but,” Paul Culp said. His voice was deep and melodious. But it was hard to hear. Branden turned to face him, to watch his lips as he spoke. This was his calm counselor’s voice, the professor surmised, practiced to put his patients at ease.

  “Donna’s about as level headed as you can get,” Paul Culp continued. “Devoted to her ministry. Sober. This time, though, she might have reacted too soon. Clients aren’t always ready to talk. At least not when their friends want them to. Maybe Donna got a little bit ahead of herself.”

  Nancy voiced disagreement. “She wouldn’t have called if it weren’t a critical situation, Paul. She said Mary Yost needed immediate help. She said the husband there was depressed. That he was troublesome. Hard to live with. Stern with the children. She hinted that he was dangerous, but she wouldn’t explain.”

  Ricky asked, “Do you think he’s capable of violence?”

  Paul shook his head. “We don’t know him. We don’t know anything about him, other than what Donna said last Thursday on the phone.”

  The door to the counseling room opened, and the receptionist from the front desk put her head inside. “We might have some trouble,” she said. “Jimmy Matt.”

  Nancy got out of her chair quickly. “Is he coming here?”

  “I don’t know,” the receptionist said. “He was angry on the phone.”

  “Call the police, please,” Paul Culp said. “Tell them what’s going on. Maybe we should get them over here.”

  Nancy Culp sat back in her chair. “We sometimes have a dangerous situation.”

  Branden asked, “You weren’t worried that you were walking into a dangerous situation in Holmes County?”

  “With an Amish family?” Nancy said nervously. “No, not really. We were just going to talk to Mary Yost on Saturday, counsel her, and maybe travel down there later, to meet this John and assess the situation. If he was agreeable, one of us would have taken a room at a nearby hotel. We have patients during the week, and normally we’re very busy. One of us would have had to come back here for that.”

  “Is this Jimmy Matt a dangerous man?” Ricky asked. “Because, I mean, you’ve asked for the police. Is he going to be a problem?”

  “You never know,” Paul said. “Families present a complicated dynamic.”

  “You don’t actually move in, to stay with troubled families?” Branden asked. “I would think that is dangerous. At least potentially.”

  “Well,” Paul Culp said, “we do that only when it’s necessary. That’d be an extreme situation.”

  “Donna called you Thursday?” Ricky asked. “This last Thursday?”

  “Yes,” both Culps said.

  “I’ve been wondering,” the professor said. “Why wouldn’t Donna have referred Mary to a program in Holmes County? Like our Family Assistance Agency. They are in the business of helping troubled families.”

  Nancy smiled. “It’s all about the ministry for Donna. Programs like F.A.A. don’t address spiritual issues. Donna said she doesn’t really trust them.”

  Suddenly, from out in the lobby entrance, there was the crashing of steel and the shattering of glass. A diesel truck engine growled once, was shut off, and sputtered on fumes. Shouting ensued, and the Culps, followed closely by Branden and Niell, darted out into the lobby.

  A large pickup had smashed its way through the glass at the front doors of the building, and the receptionist was backed up against the wall, wild-eyed, watching a disheveled man in front of her desk. He was leaning forward with a drunken sway, and he was shouting aggressively at her. “Where’s my wife? You have no right! I want my wife back, and I mean right now!”

  He had one fist planted on the desktop, and he had his other hand cocked back near his ear. He looked angry enough to swing a fist at her. The muscles along his jaw were rippling with tension.

  Ricky parked his hand on the butt of his gun and flipped that strap that covered the hammer. He advanced immediately to the angry man. “Back up!” he shouted. “Back up and calm down.”

  Jimmy Matt drew back his fist, and Ricky hit him in the face. Matt stumbled backward, almost losing his balance. He righted himself, but shattered glass gave way beneath his boots, and Matt slipped on the shards and fell over forward, onto his hands and knees.

  Niell pointed at Matt. “Sheriff’s Department,” he barked out. “Stay down.”

  Matt cranked his neck to glare up at Ricky. “My knees!” he shouted. “My knees are cut.” He held out his palms, and splinters of glass were protruding from bloody wounds there.

  By now, the receptionist was on the phone. Paul and Nancy Culp were standing back in a corner. The professor stepped up to Matt, being careful not to slip on the glass himself, and he helped the man to his feet.

  “I just want my wife back,” Jimmy said, sounding wretched and defeated.

  Branden could smell beer on Matt’s breath. He felt the man waver on his feet, despite the fact that Branden had a firm grasp on his arm. “He’s drunk,” Branden said, and he spun Matt around to help Ricky buckle his wrists into handcuffs.

  At the desk, which was covered with broken glass and bent metal strips that had broken away from the door jam, the receptionist spoke on the phone. “There’s a deputy here, but I need police.”

  Her face was bleeding at the cheek, where there was a sliver of glass sticking out from a wound. She laid the handset of the phone down on the desk, and using her fingertips, she put a hand to her cheek. She winced when she felt the glass that was imbedded there, and she stumbled over to a lobby chair in the far corner. Paul and Nancy Culp rushed forward to att
end to her.

  With the angry Jimmy Matt, Niell started asking questions. “What are you doing? Are you crazy?”

  “I just want my wife,” Matt said, struggling against his handcuffs.

  Ricky pressed in. “You’ve hurt people, here,” he declared.

  “I’m sorry about that. I didn’t mean to. I’ve been drinking. She left me. They told her to leave me! The crooks! They took all our money for their stupid counseling, and then they just told her to leave me anyway!”

  “You’re gonna to have to calm down,” Ricky said, backing Matt against an interior wall. “The police are coming. You’ve done a lot of damage, here.”

  “I’ll pay for the damages,” Matt sputtered nervously. “I just want my wife back.”

  An ambulance arrived, and medics moved Matt to a seat, away from the Culps’ receptionist. One medic stayed with Matt – cutting off his jeans at the knees – and the other went to the receptionist. A police car pulled up out front, and officers came in to stand over Jimmy Matt, while the paramedic tended to Matt’s knees. A white sedan came into the parking lot, and a police captain, with a badge case hooked over his suit pocket, came inside, stepping over broken glass and metal. To the officers, the captain said, “You have this?” and both officers answered, “Yes.”

  The captain turned next to question the Culps and their receptionist. “This is your third angry husband,” he said with a trace of ire to Nancy Culp. “In what? Something like four months?”

  “Five months, actually,” Nancy Culp said evenly. “The third in five months. It didn’t used to be like this.”

  - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

  Ricky drove on the trip home, and the professor remained silent, with his right elbow parked up on the window ledge, and his head resting sideways against the palm of his hand. Ricky let him have privacy with his thoughts.

  As they were traveling back into Millersburg on SR 39, the professor’s contemplations were disturbed by a call from President Nora Benetti’s Executive Secretary Pamela Stone. He checked the display, answered the call and said, “Hi Pam. You ready to come back to the history department?”

  “You wish, Mike. Actually, I’d almost be tempted. There’s more going on here than I really wanted to know about. You know, it’s all campus intrigue up here in the tower.”

  “Something that involves me?”

  “Your museum, Mike. There’s been some movement on your museum.”

  “I talked with Nora about this yesterday. I thought we’d have some time, yet.”

  “It’s gone a little bit above Nora, Mike. Some of the trustees are looking at your museum space, too. They’re talking about moving forward by the first of the year.”

  Branden sighed. “Is Nora just out of the loop on this, or has she been hiding this from me? Because like I said, I just spoke with her yesterday.”

  “She’s playing the angles, Mike. You know how it is. She’s protecting the endowment. Anyway, I thought you should know. Maybe you can work something out to save your museum. Benetti is concerned about the college’s endowment more than anything else, so maybe you could use that information, somehow.”

  - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

  By 2:00 PM, the professor was back in his office, preparing for his 4:00 staff meeting with department of history faculty. As he was keying the last line into his agenda document, Louise Herbeck appeared at his door.

  Once she was seated in front of the professor’s desk, Herbeck asked, “Have you learned anything about Mary Yost? Do you know where she is? And little Esther, too. I’m worried.”

  “Nothing yet,” Branden replied. “She was supposed to see the Culps on Saturday. I gather you know who they are?”

  “Yes, but my sister would have known them better,” Herbeck said. “There’s really no word?”

  “No.”

  Louise shrugged. “Well, I’m worried about her. About Mary. And Esther.”

  “I think we should be worried,” the professor said. “I know I am.”

  Herbeck showed a deep frown and shook her head, troubled. “I never believed John would actually hurt her,” she said without much conviction. “Well, I really can’t get myself to believe he would, even if I think I have to. Meredith was complaining about this sort of thing, but she might have over reacted.”

  “Is there really any chance of that?” Branden asked.

  Herbeck shook her head. “Not really. It’s unthinkable. Amish? No. But Donna Schell is worried, and I guess I am, too, since Mary didn’t show up at the Culps.”

  “You seem to know a lot about what’s going on. I gather you know Donna quite well.”

  Herbeck said, “Since over a year ago. I got to know her because they studied together at Meredith’s house. You’ve met her? Donna, I mean?”

  “Yes,” said Branden.

  “She does have a mission for the Amish,” Herbeck said. “She’s devoted to it.”

  “And her husband Ed?” the professor asked. “Do you know him well? Did you know he was raised Amish?”

  “Ed,” Louise pronounced, nodding her head to punctuate her tone. She drew a heavy breath and sighed.

  “What?” Branden asked.

  “Ed Schell is a puzzle,” Herbeck said. “Raised Amish like that, and a Schwartzentruber, too. You’ve gotta wonder how he got out of the Amish church.”

  The professor asked, “Do they focus on Schwartzentruber Amish? Does he ‘have a calling’ for Schwartzentrubers? You know, a special ministerial ‘calling’?”

  “Something like that,” Herbeck said.

  “He has a map on his office wall.”

  Herbeck nodded, looking somewhat perplexed. “Meredith told me about it. It’s supposed to be all the Schwartzentruber settlements in Holmes County?”

  “Yes. How did he map them out?” Branden asked.

  “The way I understand it,” Herbeck said, “he used the wagons. They bring those old European wagons into town, you know. Big green wooden wagons, with two draft horses. Massive iron wagon wheels. He watches for them, and he follows them back to their farms. He hands out religious tracts when he follows them home, and when he finds them in town.”

  “Exclusively for Schwartzentrubers?” Branden asked.

  “Well,” Herbeck said, “mostly. Yes. That’s the focus. For Ed, anyways.”

  “Is he successful?” the professor asked.

  “Sometimes,” Herbeck said, hesitating. “A few times, I guess. Donna has the better approach. Careful and subdued. Like with her bible studies. She brings them along slowly, prayerfully. To teach them. But Ed? He’s too nervous. Too earnest, if you know what I mean.”

  “Too pushy?” the professor asked.

  Herbeck considered the question. She turned her eyes to the carpet and then looked back up to Branden. “Meredith didn’t like him that much. He was too much in a rush, I guess. And not always insightful. He’s ready to give up a lot of the times. And he’s shallow. Something. I don’t know. He’s not willing to go deep into the issues with them. Meredith complained about this. She said he wants a quick conversion, and he’s impatient when he doesn’t get one.”

  “The superficial evangelist?” the professor asked. “Won’t take the time to teach and persuade?”

  “I guess.”

  “You’re not sure?”

  Louise paused with her thoughts. Eventually, she said, “I’m not making a generalization, mind you. Not everyone fits, here. But sometimes the ones with the strongest opinions are the ones who have done the weakest thinking.”

  Branden laughed nervously. “It doesn’t sound like you care for him all that much.”

  “He’s OK,” Herbeck said. “But Meredith did consider him to be – what’d you call it – superficial.”

  The professor shrugged. “You don’t have any idea where Mary is?”

  “None at all.”

  “Do you think Donna has good thinking? Good opinions?”

  “She’s committed, Professor. As committed to her ministry
as anyone I know. But she’s not as intense as Ed. She’s inclined to sit and pray, whereas he’s more the type to stomp around behind his lectern for his Sunday sermons.”

  Branden gazed across his desk at Herbeck, and he considered a gamble. Maybe, he thought, it might be too raw a nerve. But he pressed forward, anyway, saying, “Can you really get that much money for used clothing, Louise?”

  Herbeck smiled nervously. “You’re thinking it was callous of me to sell her clothes for spending money?”

  “Perhaps a bit. You know you can’t go back inside Meredith’s house just yet.”

  “I talked to her lawyer this morning,” Herbeck said. “About her will. I’m to get the house and some cash. It’ll be enough. But I can't get any of it until it clears probate. So, I’m glad I took those clothes.”

  “What clothes did you take?” Branden asked, coming forward onto the edge of his seat.

  “The ones that I had already loaded into my trunk, Professor. You didn’t check there, so you also didn’t tell me that I had to put them back. I’m going to need the little money that I got for them.”

  Smiling with chagrin, Branden asked, “How much was that?”

  “Four-hundred and eighty dollars, cash.”

  Branden didn’t reply, hoping that Herbeck would feel the need to explain further.

  “Meredith was a widow,” she said with a sigh. “Her husband was a truck driver, and she was set up pretty sweetly with her share of his pension. My husband? He was a farmer. I taught grade school, and he worked the land. But he died four years ago, I got behind on the taxes, and they sold the land out from under me for back taxes, fines and penalties. That’s why I’m living in a rented trailer. Because the government can take your house. Land. Anything they want, really. That’s why I need used clothes to sell. The four-hundred and eighty dollars? That’s more money than I’ve had at any one time since my husband died. So, yes it was a little callous of me, to be over there yesterday taking out her clothes. My guess is, Meredith doesn’t too much mind.”

  - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

  As soon as Herbeck left his office, the professor called the sheriff.

  “Bruce,” he asked, “Did you match Louise Herbeck’s prints to the second set that was found on Meredith Silver’s suicide note?”