Assaulted Pretzel (24 page)

Melinda’s left eyebrow rose upward. “Isaac’s letter?”

“Yeah. The one you told me about this morning…or last night…or whenever we were talking out in the hall.”

“The only way it would
get out
, as you say, is if I
let
it get out.”

Claire took in everything about the woman now sizing her up from the bedroom-turned-makeshift-office, Melinda’s not-so-quiet confidence impossible to miss. “What do you mean?”

“I have the letter, Claire. I’ve had it all along.”

F
or the second night in a row, Claire watched the moon make its way across her darkened room only to be bullied away by the first of the sun’s morning rays. She’d wanted to sleep, intended to sleep, but when she finally slipped into her pajamas and wiggled under the covers after her impromptu talk with Melinda, her brain simply wouldn’t shut off.

Quite the contrary, in fact.

Suddenly her mental list of suspects in Robert Karble’s murder had gotten rather lengthy with each and every member boasting a workable motive.

First, there was Daniel—the Amish toy maker who had been the only person on the list as recently as twenty-four hours ago. The motive Claire had fashioned for him still held water, with money having been the driving force behind the crime.

Rolling onto her side, she retrieved the wrinkled piece of paper Sarah Lapp had forced into her hand out of fear for her husband and his future. And even now, in the sparse light invited into the room by the curtains she routinely failed to close, the reason for her suspicion was hard to miss.

If Daniel’s catalogue business dried up in light of Karble Toys’ ability to mass-produce and market its Amish line on a far superior scale, the soon-to-be father of five would be forced to earn his income elsewhere. Unfortunately, the recent sale of more than half of his farmland to a neighbor eliminated his original income source as a viable option.

Had desperation made the normally peaceful man snap?

Next on the list was Isaac with the kind of motive she never could have imagined yet now was incapable of forgetting. She glanced down at the mathematical computations Daniel had agonized over and realized they worked as a secondary motive for Isaac, too. After all, if Daniel’s toy shop suffered, Isaac as his coworker would suffer as well. Though, if she had to guess, she’d still stick with betrayal as Isaac’s motive to kill.

She rested the paper atop her stomach and stared up at the ceiling. It was painful to imagine the courage it must have taken Isaac to reach out to Robert despite the vast differences in their lifestyle. And then, to have Robert knowingly threaten the livelihood of the very people who’d rallied around his son as a child? Yes, Isaac had every reason to feel betrayed…

The letter he’d sent Robert simply underscored his place on the list by simultaneously offering a motive for yet another crime—one that proved futile thanks to Melinda’s quick thinking.

Oh, how she’d wanted to ask if she could see the letter
upon learning it was in Melinda’s possession, but something about the woman’s attitude had kept her from making the request. Besides, it really wasn’t any of Claire’s business. All that mattered was that its fate did a fairly decent job of negating the name Benjamin had added to her list midway through their picnic.

Mentally, she drew a line through Ann’s name, the relief she felt in return taking her by surprise.

What was it about Ann Karble that spoke to her so clearly? Was it simply the fact that the widow was grieving and therefore sympathetic? Or was it something more? She didn’t know. All she knew was that there was a vulnerability to the victim’s wife that made her likable in a way Melinda really wasn’t. Ann was mourning. Melinda was viewing the tragedy as a way to secure a dream.

Melinda…

With a gasp that echoed its way around her room, Claire bolted upright in her bed. “Melinda?” she whispered aloud as her mental pencil hastily completed its line through Ann’s name and went about the task of adding yet another suspect to the list.

Betrayal was a powerful motive for murder. So, too, was revenge. Add the two together and Melinda Simon’s name earned itself a double underline and a couple of exclamation points to boot.

The up-and-coming public relations manager had seen a chance to try her hand at product management in the wake of Robert’s newly discovered son. Her boss had championed the idea one moment and removed Melinda from the helm in favor of his wife the next. Killing Robert would have been about revenge. Leading the man’s multimillion-dollar company back from the clutches of a public relations nightmare would be the ultimate coup de grâce.

*   *   *

S
he padded around her room on still damp feet and surveyed the outfit she’d laid out on her bed after managing to secure a ninety-minute power snooze and a hot shower. The sleep had come on the heels of the realization that it was time to talk to Jakob. The shower had come when she’d rolled over and looked at the clock and realized she’d slept through breakfast and needed help clearing the fog of exhaustion from her brain.

Peeling the extra-large towel from her relatively petite frame, Claire stepped into her favorite pair of jeans and topped them off with a white button-down shirt. Not a look she’d dare on a day she was manning the shop, but for one that had Esther working the register while she attended to bookkeeping duties in the back office it worked just fine.

A quick search through her jewelry box completed the outfit with a silver pendant necklace and a pair of small hoop earrings. The only part of her prework ritual that still remained was what to do with her hair, until the whoosh of air brakes in the parking lot aided the decision in leaving it down.

She grabbed her purse from her dresser and headed out into the hall, resisting the pull to knock on Melinda’s door as she did.

Rome wasn’t built in a day. Or so they said. Either way, she had time to mull over her suspect list a little longer before taking her thoughts and suspicions to Jakob. To do so prematurely could prove disastrous to a friendship she both wanted and needed.

“Good morning, Claire. I am so happy you got a good night’s sleep. I know you needed that.” Diane met her at the bottom of the stairs before doing a double take. “Claire?
You look more tired than you did last night. Is everything okay?”

She rested a reassuring hand on her aunt’s arm and offered an accompanying smile. “I’m fine. Believe it or not, I actually managed to get about ninety minutes although the circles under my eyes point to none.” Without waiting for an answer, she pointed toward the narrow windows that flanked the inn’s front door. “I thought I heard a truck or something outside a few minutes ago. Did we get a delivery?”

“No, it’s just Keith. He’s here to take the newlyweds and the Grandersons on a behind-the-scenes tour of the Amish countryside.” Motioning for Claire to follow, Diane turned on her sensible shoes and led the way into the dining room, where Keith was sipping on a cup of coffee. “Would you like to join Keith and me in a cup of coffee as we wait for the others to come down?”

She stopped just inside the sun-dappled room and liberated a leftover croissant from a plate on the nearby serving table. Breaking off a bite with one hand, she paused the flaky pastry a few inches from her lips, much to the chagrin of her growling stomach. “Good morning, Keith.”

The driver tipped his balding head in return. “What did you think of that meeting yesterday?” Then, keeping his gaze on Claire, he nudged his chin in Diane’s direction. “I was just telling your aunt here how she should have been at Al’s to hear all of Sandra’s ideas for the upcoming holiday season. They really were spectacular, weren’t they?”

She couldn’t help but agree. Sandra Moffit had a knack for making things magical just as Keith had one for spreading the word about her latest endeavors. “I loved the idea of the carolers, but my favorite idea of all was the one that has costumed Santas from all over the world roaming Lighted Way and giving out candy. It’s just the kind of thing that
will appeal to traveling tourists as well as folks who live within an easy drive.”

Diane clapped her hands softly. “Oh, how wonderful! It sounds so…so magical.”

“But wait. It gets better.” Keith scooted his chair from the table just enough to afford room to drape his ankle across his opposing knee. “Sandra suggested we put the real Santa Claus in a chair smack-dab in the middle of Daniel’s workshop, citing the backdrop as the perfect accompaniment to the coveted Christmas photograph most parents want with their children.”

“Now all you have to do, Keith,” Claire mused, “is buy a set of those antlers people stick on their cars each Christmas and transform your bus into something kids will beg to ride in on the way to visit Santa.”

The idea was barely through her lips before Keith started laughing. “You know, I had that very same idea when I was on the way to pick up my first round of customers after yesterday’s meeting. Tried to tell myself I was grasping at straws, but now, after hearing you say it, maybe it’s not so silly after all.”

“Silly?” Diane echoed. “I think it’s brilliant.”

“Brilliant, you say?” Claire lifted her hand above her head in preparation for a bow that was quickly curtailed by the sound of footsteps on the stairs.

Rising to his feet, Keith took one last sip of his coffee then returned the empty cup to its matching saucer. “Diane, I thank you for your hospitality, but it sounds as if your guests are ready for their tour and I don’t want to keep them waiting.”

“Is Ann going, too?” Claire asked as she glanced at Diane. “A drive like that might do her good.”

Keith stopped just inside the door. “I thought you said Ann wasn’t here.”

“She’s not.” Diane set her own coffee cup down beside Keith’s. “She’s at the police station with Jakob trying to get answers.”

“That’s what I thought.” Then, meeting Claire’s eyes, he hooked his thumb in the direction of the excited voices coming from the inn’s front hall. “Would you like to tag along? I could drop you off at the shop as we make our way through town.”

“No, I can’t ask you to do that.”

“Why not?” Diane challenged. “You know Doug and Kayla. You know Virginia and Wayne. And with only an hour and a half of sleep in the past forty-eight, it might be safer to take the ride, dear.”

She considered declining, citing the need for fresh air and good old-fashioned exercise as her reasons, but a rapid series of yawns that momentarily rendered her speechless convinced her otherwise. “Well, if you’re really sure it’s okay, maybe it
would
be better to ride into town with all of you rather than risk falling asleep on the side of the road and being mistaken as Heavenly’s latest dead body.”

A
ny concern Claire had over crashing the countryside tour Diane had arranged was wiped away by the warm greeting that met her initial steps onto the bus. The triumphant I-told-you-so look from the man behind the wheel simply provided the additional puff of air she needed to make her way down the center aisle and claim one of the twelve remaining cushioned seats as her own.

Virginia Granderson swiveled around in the front-row seat she shared with her husband and reached for Claire’s hand. “Wayne, isn’t this a treat! Claire’s coming with us this morning!”

Kayla Jones leaned across Doug’s lap and wiggled her fingers across the aisle. “Oooh, you’ll be able to point out some of the things we’ve talked about over dinner these last few days.”

“Like the Amish farm that’s raising the white-tailed deer for the pharmaceutical company.” Doug gently stroked the
side of Kayla’s face as he, too, nodded his pleasure at Claire’s inclusion. “I mean, I’ve gotta admit…that kind of resourcefulness is pretty cool.”

Keith’s hand adjusted the mirror over his seat to afford a better view of all five passengers and then shifted the sixteen-passenger bus into drive. “They have to be resourceful these days, just like the rest of us do. The difference is that our need to be resourceful comes from things like corporate downsizing and age discrimination. With the Amish—at least in this area—it’s because of the lack of farmland.”