Murder, Simply Stitched: An Amish Quilt Shop Mystery (22 page)

Willow raised her hand. “I move to appoint Angie as a council member to complete Wanda’s term.”

“Do I have a second?” Farley asked.

“Second,” Jason muttered.

“Jason,” Caroline gasped.

He shrugged. “I don’t want to be here all night.”

Farley asked for ayes and nays. Caroline was the only naysayer, and with that, I was a council member.

I stumbled to the back of the room and fell into my seat wondering what I had just agreed to. Who was I kidding? I wasn’t a politician. I looked behind me to find Sheriff Mitchell not watching Farley and the other trustees deal with the next complaint, but watching me. The corners of his mouth quirked up into a smile.
Was he enjoying this?
I spun around again.
Because I was not.

T
he rest of the township meeting was a blur as I worried over the colossal mistake I had just made. At the end of the meeting, my seatmate stood. “Welp, good luck, Miss Trustee, you’re gonna need it.”

Somehow that didn’t make me feel any better.

As the room emptied out, I stumbled back to the stage. Maybe there was still a way I could get out of this. I didn’t know how to be a politician. Ryan had been the politician, not me. Rachel hurried to me and clasped my right hand in both of hers. “Angie, thank you. You’ve saved my husband’s business and our family.”

Aaron stood behind his wife and swallowed.
“Danki,
Angie.
Danki.”
He put an arm around his wife and led her to the stairwell.

Aaron’s quiet thanks made me wonder if maybe I had done the right thing after all.

“Angela,” Farley brushed lint from his suit jacket as he walk up to me. “Welcome to the team. We will swear you into office later this week.”

Okay, maybe I was back to realizing that this was a mistake.

Willow and Caroline stood behind him. Willow grinned, and Caroline scowled. I didn’t know where Jason had run off to.

An Englishman came up to Farley’s side. “Mr. Jung, may I speak with you for a moment?”

“Of course,” Farley nodded and turned to me. “I’m looking forward to working with you, Angela.”

Ugh.

Willow hugged me, and I was engulfed in the smell of cloves. I almost gagged. She was still perfecting her fall tea, I took it. “Welcome aboard, Angie. This is going to be a hoot.”

Caroline shook my hand. “Congratulations. You wouldn’t be my first choice, but I suppose that I don’t have a say in the matter.”

I disengaged my hand from her grasp. “You would make a different choice?”

“Longevity is important to this community. I would have chosen someone who has lived, really lived, in Holmes County for years. Whether or not you were born here does not matter to me. You have not been here long enough as an adult to understand how we operate.”

Willow twirled the purple crystal that hung from her neck. “Caroline, don’t give her such a hard time.”

I arched my brow. “A few weeks later you would have been able to make the decision.”

She frowned. “What do you mean?”

“When you are head trustee. You are running for the office, aren’t you?”

“I am.”

“Now that you are uncontested, you are a shoo-in.”

“Yes.” She cleared her throat. “I am as broken up over Wanda’s death as everyone is. In the last few years of serving on the board with her, we became close.”

“Close? But she was running against you.”

Caroline’s jaw twitched. “We both thought we could make a difference in the community. We disagreed about how to do that.”

Willow’s eyes grew wide as she just realized what I was asking. “Angie, Caroline was in Florida this last week.”

Caroline nodded. “My parents live there. I flew home yesterday, so I would be here in time for the meeting.”

“So you were in Florida on Wednesday when Wanda died?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Yes.”

There goes a suspect, and I thought Caroline was such a promising one too.

Willow made a face at me and laughed nervously. “Caroline, can we discuss the Christmas progressive dinner I would like to propose at the next meeting?”

Caroline leveled her gaze at me before following Willow back to the stage. I may have just ticked off my future head trustee. Almost accusing someone of murder can do that.

I turned back to my seat to gather up my jacket and found Sheriff Mitchell waiting for me. He raised his eyebrows. “Want to talk about it?”

I groaned as I put on my jacket. “I need some fresh air.”

He placed a hand gently on my elbow and steered me to the stairwell, which was empty now. We were among the last people inside of the church. On the church’s front steps beneath a security light, I took a deep breath and inhaled the earthy scent of an Ohio autumn. The smell of dirt and leaves was overpowered by the smell of a fire burning not too far away. It reminded me of camping on my aunt’s farm when I was child. Uncle Jacob would pitch a tent for me and build a fire, and I would pretend I was in the wilderness even though I was only steps from their back door. When I moved to Texas, there was no more camping. My parents thought roughing it was a hotel without room service.

Mitchell leaned against the wrought iron railing on one side of the steps with his arms folded across his chest. “Should I call you Madam Trustee now?”

I gave him a weak smile. “I can’t believe that just happened. I have no interest in politics. Ryan had been the aspiring politician, not me.”

Mitchell’s face was in the shadows. “Ryan, your fiancé, you mean.”

I closed my eyes for a moment.
Why did I bring up Ryan?
“Ex-fiancé.”

“I like the ex part,” he said.

My brow knitted together. “Maybe I should go back in there and tell them I can’t do it.”

“I think it’s too late for that,” the sheriff said. “And for what it’s worth, I think you did the right thing. You care about the Amish in Rolling Brook, and that is clear. Maybe it’s because of your aunt, maybe it’s just because you are a nice person—I think it’s both—but you care. That’s important. It’s been a long time since someone has been on the board who keeps the Amish community’s needs in mind. You did the right thing, Angie. Even though the Amish outnumber the English in Rolling Brook two to one, they will never agree to hold this office, but you can do it for them. Your aunt and your uncle would be proud of you.”

I chewed on the inside of my lips to hold back tears. “I don’t know if the Amish are always going to agree with my decisions.”

“Someone is always going to disagree with your decisions, and you might not always make the right one.” He said it like a man who spoke from years of experience.

Was he was thinking of the threats Wanda received before she died? If he could do it over again, I knew he would take them more seriously.

I remembered the promise I had made to Tabitha Nissley about her canning shed. “I visited the auction yard today.”

He straightened up. “You did?”

“I needed to tell Linus Raber about the two quilts that were going up on the auction block tomorrow.”

He relaxed. “Oh.”

I buttoned my jacket against the late-autumn chill. “While I was there, I saw Tabitha Nissley. She was upset about the miles of crime scene tape around her canning shed.”

“Anderson may have gotten carried away. I talked to him about it. He’s going to blow our tape budget.”

I suppressed a smile. “She needs it to come down. She has canning orders. Jonah told me about her son. I’m assuming she needs the money for his medical bills.”

“I know she needs the money for Josiah. That’s why the tape is already down. I sent Deputy Anderson over there tonight to close up the scene. We were done processing it, and it looked as if an animal had been chewing on the tarp we placed there to cover the ground. There was no reason to protect the scene that had been compromised by an animal.”

“How unfortunate,” I said, remembering fighting with Petunia over the tarp.

He stepped under the security light. The yellow light reflected the silver flecks in his hair. “I’m sure the Nissleys know the canning shed is open now.”

“Will you be at the auction tomorrow?”

He nodded. “Two deputies and I will.”

“Do you expect trouble?”

He looked down at me. “In my line of work, I always expect trouble, Angie.”

I did too since I was trying to solve the murder, but at that moment, I felt like most of my trouble had to do with the handsome sheriff standing inches away from me.

“A
re you sure you don’t want me to stay?” Mattie asked the next morning as we put the last touches on the auction yard’s display for Running Stitch. Oliver snoozed beneath one of the tables.

I placed stacks of notions on the table. “I’m sure. You would be a much greater help to me by going into town and opening the shop for the day. Saturday is our best day for traffic.”

Mattie picked a leaf off of a small Texas Star lap quilt. “I can’t thank you enough for what you did for my family. Aaron is so relieved about the pie factory. I haven’t seen him this happy in weeks.”

Mattie had already thanked me half a dozen times that morning. “You’re welcome. Now, stop saying thank you.”

She laughed. “I will try.”

After Mattie left, I frowned at the empty tables across from me. The Millers decided not to sell at Saturday’s auction. A wise decision, but I missed my friend. Mary, Martha’s cousin, selling baskets at the next table wasn’t much company.

Ten o’clock arrived and business was brisk at the quilting tables. The customers came one after another. Dozens of women took the flyers I made advertising the shop’s classes, and three women signed up on the spot. I began to believe that it would be a busy but normal day at the auction, until Petunia waltzed into the tent.

Oliver hopped up when he saw his hooved friend.

I stuck my hand on my hips. “Petunia, you’re supposed to be in your pen on auction days.”

“Baaa!”
was her response.

I glanced through the merchants’ tent for Zeph, Gabe, Jonah, or someone who could take the goat back to where she belonged. I didn’t see anyone. I knew they were all busy in the main auction barn. The job was up to me.

I knelt next to Oliver and removed his collar. He barked. “Now, Petunia is only going to wear it for a short time,” I told him. “It will be just long enough for us to take her back to her pen.”

I reached into the hobo bag for Oliver’s leash and clipped it on the collar before I approached Petunia with it. The goat shuffled away from me.

“Come here, Petunia. We’re going for a little stroll. Do you like walks?” I spoke to her like she was Oliver, and my singsong voice appeared to calm her. I wrapped the collar around her neck and fastened it. Even though Oliver was much stockier and smaller than the Nubian goat, Petunia’s neck was about the same width, so I knew the collar would work. “Good girl.” I scratched one of her ears.

I turned to my neighbor. “Mary, can you watch my tables while I take Petunia back to the Nissleys?”

She nodded without looking up from the basket liner she was embroidering. She was just as friendly as her cousin Martha, which wasn’t saying much.

After some coaxing, Petunia followed Oliver and me across the auction yard.

“Look Mommy,” a small girl wearing a Cinderella dress cried. “She’s walking a goat.”

Millersburg trick or treating was that night and I noticed that many of the English children wore their costumes to the auction. For once, it was the Amish children staring at them for their strange clothes, not the other way around.

The walk to the Nissleys’ house took much longer than I thought it would. The goat was at bit of a celebrity at the auction and everyone wanted a chance to pet her. With Oliver walking beside her, the pair got even more attention and pets.

After a little Superman ran back to his parents, I pulled on Petunia’s leash. “Come on, you two,” I said to the dog and goat. “This isn’t a parade.”

Finally, we reached the Nissleys’ house. I walked around back where Petunia’s pen was. Tabitha’s clothesline was bare.

“I want my money back!” An angry shout came from inside of the Nissleys’ house. The kitchen window over their sink was open. Through the glass, I saw Gideon facing off with an Amish man. I saw the handkerchief in the man’s hand and I realized that it was Zeke King. Zeke promised he would take his complaint, whatever it was, to Gideon, and it seemed he followed through.

Gideon shook this head. “That is not how the auction works. We do not do refunds.”

“Who is going to pay the vet bills for this calf?”

“It is your calf now. You will.” Gideon’s tone left no room for argument.

“I would have never bought it if I knew its hind leg was crooked.”

“It is your responsibility to check the animal. If you chose not to, that is not our fault.”

“How could you sell defective animals? The veterinarian said that as the calf grows the leg will not heal itself. The only option is surgery or putting the animal down. I can’t afford surgery.”

I winced at the thought.

“The calf is yours now. Whatever is wrong with her is your concern, not mine. If we missed something about her health, it was not intentional.”

Zeke balled the handkerchief in his hand. “How could you miss it?”

“How could you?” Gideon shot back.

Zeke angrily removed his hat. “I want to see the papers that say the calf was in good health when you auctioned it off.”

“Linus has them in the office. I can’t show them to you today. I don’t know where he keeps him.”

“I already spoke to Linus, and he told me to talk to you.”

“I don’t have the papers. If you want to see them, talk to Linus. But not today.”

“Why not?” Zeke asked.

“We are in the middle of an auction. I can’t do that today. Come back on Monday.”

Zeke slammed his hat back onto his head, and the kitchen door flew open. I jumped back around the side of the house, but Oliver and Petunia stood frozen as he stomped in the opposite direction. I don’t think he ever saw them. He was blinded by anger.

“Angie, can I help you?” Tabitha asked from behind me.

I turned to find her standing behind me holding another full laundry basket of clean, damp sheets. My face turned bright red as I had been caught eavesdropping on her husband. I held up my end of the leash. “I—well—I brought Petunia back. She wandered onto the auction grounds again. I know Gideon doesn’t like her out on auction days.”

“
Danki
for bringing her back.” Tabitha set her basket on the ground below the clothesline. She then walked over to Petunia’s pen and opened the gate.

The goat stepped inside like she was perfectly behaved. I followed her and removed Oliver’s collar and leash.

Tabitha securely latched the gate after I came out. “Don’t you have an auction block coming up?”

I checked my cell phone. It was one thirty. She was right. My quilt block would be up at two. “I do, thanks.”

“Then I think you and Oliver should go get ready for it.”

“Yes, of course.” I picked up Oliver. For some reason I felt like I needed to carry the Frenchie. As I hurried back toward the merchants’ tent I felt Tabitha’s eyes boring into my back.