Murder, Handcrafted (Amish Quilt Shop Mystery) (23 page)

O
utside in the hospital’s parking lot, I called my mother’s cell phone. She answered on the first ring. “Mom,” I said with so much relief as I stumbled into my car.

“Angie, what’s gotten in to you?” she asked.

“There’s no time for that. Are Jonah and Eban there working on the house?”

“No,” she said slowly. “They left for the day. They finished painting the kitchen, and it has to dry before they can do anything else.”

“Oh,” I said.

“Are you all right?” my mother asked.

“Yes,” I said. “I’m fine. I just need to make another call. I’ll talk to you later.” I hung up. Hanging up on my mother would come back to haunt me later, but I needed to think. I considered calling Mitchell, but I knew that he would be dealing with that semi accident somewhere else in the county.

What I wouldn’t give for Jonah to have a cell phone! If I wanted to talk to Jonah, I would have to find him.
So the first place I would look was his farm, whether Miriam liked my arrival or not.

As I pulled into the Grabers’ long gravel driveway, Petunia raced to my car before it came to a complete stop. Her tan-colored ears were flopping on the sides of her head. I got out of the car, but when Oliver didn’t follow me, Petunia pulled up short.

The screen door banged against the house as Jonah came out. I recognized Miriam’s silhouette in the doorway as Jonah walked toward me. I waited for Jonah to reach me.

“What?” Jonah asked, peering into the car. “No Oliver?”

I gave him a half smile. “He’s at the shop with Mattie.”

Jonah’s brow knit together. I didn’t have time to answer the unspoken question about Oliver’s whereabouts and why he wasn’t with me. I cut right to the heart of the matter. “Is Eban here?” I asked.

Jonah frowned. “He went home.”

“Oh,” I said. “Where’s he staying?”

“Not home in Holmes County, but
home
back to his family’s farm in Wayne County.”

“He left Holmes County?” I asked. Suspicion started to tickle the back of my brain. “Why would he leave before you finished the remodel of my mother’s kitchen?”

Jonah nodded and still appeared to be confused over my questions about Eban. “He said he had to go back home to his mother and sisters. Did you come here looking for Eban?”

I shook my head. “Jonah, I need to know where you were the morning Griffin died. It’s important, really important.”

His jaw clenched. “I told you that I wasn’t going to speak of it.”

“I know, but—”

“Angie, please,” his voice was as sharp as I’d ever heard it.

“Rex Flagg saw you that morning,” I blurted out.

He stepped back with confusion written all over his face. “Who?”

“Rex Flagg,” I said. “He was the drunk you picked up in the wee hours and drove into town.”

His mouth hung open. “How could you know about that?”

“It doesn’t matter how I know. Why didn’t you tell the police?”

“Why would I do that and shame a man who was clearly in trouble? It wouldn’t have made any difference for me and could have caused much trouble for him.”

I admired Jonah for his compassion, but this was no time to be chivalrous. “But you’re wrong. It does matter. It gives you at least part of an alibi. That’s a good start. Where were you the rest of that morning before you found Griffin’s body?” I was shouting now. I couldn’t help it.

Jonah glared at me. “Angie, you are going too far this time.”

“I’m asking because I want to help you.” I threw up my hands. “Cameron Bright, Griffin’s nephew, saw an
Amish man around the trailer the morning right before his uncle was killed.”

“He saw
me
?” Jonah asked in disbelief.

“He couldn’t identify you personally, but he said an Amish man. You are the only Amish male suspect. Don’t you see how serious this is?”

Hurt filled his eyes. “Are you asking me if I killed Griffin Bright, Angie? Is that what this is? Do you think I killed him?”

I stepped back. “No. Of course I don’t think that, but it looks bad.”

He turned away from me and faced his house. I wrapped my arms around my waist.

Miriam opened the screen door and stood on the top step that led into their house. I had overstayed my welcome.

I spoke to Jonah’s back. “Believe me when I say that I know you didn’t kill anyone, and I’m only trying to protect you.”

His shoulders sagged, but still he didn’t turn around.

“Don’t worry, Jonah. I’ll prove it with or without your alibi.” I glanced around him at Miriam, who had her arms folded across her chest. “And if it will be easier for you, I won’t come to your farm any longer.”

“Angie,” Jonah said as he turned around, “I don’t want that.”

I met his eyes, and I could feel tears forming in mine. “You might not, but it’s what Miriam wants. I don’t want my presence to cause any pain in your marriage.”

“Angie—” Jonah began, but before he could say more, I climbed back into my car and drove away.

I was turning out of the Grabers’ county road toward Rolling Brook when my cell phone rang. I fished it out of my bag and checked the readout. The call was from Amber. She must be calling in to report on the research project I’d given her that morning.

I held the phone to my ear. “Tell me what you learned,” I told Amber on the other end of the call.

“A lot, actually,” she said, seemingly unoffended at my lack of greeting. “You were right. There was another accident involving Griffin Bright. Sixteen years ago to be exact, four years after Kamon’s death, so it didn’t take me as long to find as I thought it might.”

“A barn fire?” I asked.

“How did you know?” she asked, sounding miffed that I beat her to the punch.

“I don’t know any more than that, so please go on,” I said.

“Griffin was working on installing electricity to a former Amish barn for a new English owner. There was an electrical fire during the job at night. One of the Amish farmhands ran into the building to save the horses. He was able to free the animals, but he died in the fire.”

I had a tingly feeling again. “What was his name?”

“Hold on—let me check.”

I heard rustling paper on the other end of the call. It was torture waiting for her answer.

“Peter Hoch. This was in Wayne County, so there wasn’t much talk about it here in Holmes, which may
be why people don’t remember it as well as Kamon’s death twenty years ago.”

Peter Hoch. Eban’s last name was Hoch. Eban said his father had died.

“After Peter died,” Amber said, warming up to her subject, “Griffin dissolved his electrician business. He seems to have disappeared for a couple of years. Then ten years ago, he came back and opened Double Bright Electric with his brother, Blane. There have been no incidents since Peter’s death. The Bright brothers’ business has gotten superb ratings for every year they’ve been in business. Griffin was even given some type of statewide safety award last year because he is such a stickler for rules. I guess he learned his lesson about safety the hard way.”

Eban. The Amish man Cameron had seen that morning hadn’t been Jonah. It had been Eban.

Amber went on to tell me more of what she learned about Griffin’s business, but I was only half listening at that point. Eban? Could friendly and kind Eban really be the killer? I needed to talk to Mitchell.

“Thank you, Amber,” I cut into her recitation of Griffin’s history. “This is just what I needed to know. I have to go.”

“But, I have more . . .”

“Can you send it to me in an e-mail? I really have to go.”

“Oh-kay,” she said.

“You did an awesome job,” I said. “Really.”

“I did?” She sounded pleased.

After I ended the conversation with Amber, I tried to
call Mitchell, but it went straight to voice mail. He must still be caught up in that accident. This wasn’t a conversation for voice mail. I stopped myself from calling the emergency number. I wasn’t in danger. I would just keep calling Mitchell until he answered.

Back in Rolling Brook, I parked in the community lot and nervously glanced around when I stepped out onto the sidewalk on the way to Running Stitch. Much to my relief, no Bigfooters jumped out of the alleys, calling my name.

There was only a handful of Bigfoot merchandise vendors still on Sugartree Street, and the ones that were there were in the process of packing up their wares. It was only two in the afternoon. There were at least two more hours of shopping to be had. I stopped one of the vendors and asked him why he was packing up.

“Didn’t you hear?” the man asked. “It was a hoax. Some kid was making a movie for school. Everyone is packing it in.”

“Too bad,” I said, feeling relieved. At least the Bigfoot mania was over, and I no longer had to fear for my life. I continued on my way to the shop. There were still plenty of people on the street. I’d try to reach Mitchell again from inside the shop where no one would overhear.

In front of Running Stitch, I stopped. Something was wrong. The
CLOSED
sign was flipped around on the door. Did Mattie leave the shop? Had she gone to the mercantile to visit Liam? Why wouldn’t she tell me?

I put my key into the lock and turned. The door swung inward. The interior was dark, but at first
glance everything seemed to be in order. “Mattie,” I called, taking a few tentative steps inside.

Where was Mattie? Where was Oliver? Something was very off. I was about to turn around and go back outside when the door slammed behind me.

I spun around and found Eban Hoch standing between me and the closed front door, holding a knife as long as my arm.

And then I heard Mattie crying.

“E
ban,” I cried when I regained my voice. “What are you doing?”

Barks came from the stockroom. I almost wilted with relief. Oliver was all right. He was trapped, but all right. My eyes adjusted to the dimness of the shop, and I spotted Mattie tied to a chair next to the giant quilt frame. Her eyes were the size of dinner plates, but she appeared otherwise unharmed.

Eban shook the knife at me. “Give me your purse.”

“No,” I said. My phone was in my hobo bag, and I wasn’t giving that up. “Eban, we can talk about this. I’m sure it’s not as bad as it seems to you.”

Without a word, Eban ran around me to the back of the shop and placed the giant knife at Mattie’s throat.

“Angie, please.” Tears rolled down Mattie’s cheeks.

I dropped the bag on the floor without a word and kicked it to him.

Eban picked up the bag and began rooting through the contents. He dropped my wallet, a stapler—I didn’t remember putting that in there—and a packet of
tissues on the floor. Finally, he came up with my phone, which he shoved into his trouser pocket.

If I wanted to, I had a clean getaway out the front door, but that would mean leaving Mattie and Oliver with Eban and his knife. That wasn’t going to happen. I started talking. “You should have kept going home to Wayne County, Eban. You would have been home by now.”

He laughed. “So that you could send the police for me there? Don’t pretend that you wouldn’t have done that. In the last two days working with Jonah, I have heard all about Angie Braddock, the sleuth, and her determination to find a killer. I knew that I would never get away with Griffin’s murder.”

I was right. Eban had killed Griffin. I wish that I had been wrong, but I was right. I closed my eyes for the briefest second, wishing that Jonah hadn’t bragged about me.

“You came here for me, right? Then let Mattie go. She has nothing to do with Griffin’s death.”

“She’s not going anywhere. Neither of you are.”

“You can’t keep us here forever,” I said as reasonably as my shaky voice would allow.

He seemed to consider this. “If I let her go, she’ll go to the police.”

I shook my head. “No, she won’t. Will you, Mattie?”

“I—I won’t.” Mattie trembled.

“I want to help you, Eban,” I said. “But I’m not going to do that as long as Mattie is in danger.”

“Stop trying to confuse me,” he shouted, and moved the knife closer to Mattie’s throat.

I held up my hands. “Okay, okay. We’ll stay.”

He pointed to a folding chair in the middle of the room. “Sit there.”

I sat. I glanced back through the display window. There were only a few tourists left walking up the street, and none of them even glanced at Running Stitch to see the drama unfolding inside. There wouldn’t be any help coming from that quarter. I had to think of a way to free Mattie, Oliver, and me from this situation.

“Stop looking at the window,” Eban shouted.

I turned back to him. “I’m sorry.” I gave him my full attention. As the man had a huge knife, he deserved it. “What did you want to talk to me about, Eban?”

He glared at me.

I licked my lips, which were impossibly dry. “Why did you wait so long to avenge your father’s death?”

To my relief, he lowered the knife and stepped away from Mattie. He came toward me with the knife, but I’d much rather have him do that than have the knife at Mattie’s throat.

“I knew you knew I did it. That’s why I came here.” He waved the knife erratically. “When the Amish girl said you weren’t here, I knew you were out talking to people and collecting proof. I knew you would figure it out.”

“Tell me about your father,” I said.

He glared at me. “I never got to know my father, not really. Griffin robbed me of that when he killed him.”

Behind Eban’s back, Mattie wiggled quietly in her seat, inching the chair backward. Then, I saw what she was trying to reach. There was a small pair of thread scissors sitting on the edge of the quilt frame. One of
the ladies must have forgotten them during the last quilting circle meeting.

“In the barn fire,” I said. “How old were you then?”

“Five! I was only five.” He narrowed his eyes, taking another step toward me. “You do know about the fire. You do know everything.”

“Not everything.” I braced my hands on my knees. “But I do know the fire was an accident,” I said. “One that Griffin regretted the rest of his life.”

“What do you know of it?” he snapped.

I held up my hands. “Everyone I talked to said how careful Griffin was. They said that he regretted an accident in his past. I thought it was Kamon Graber’s death—and maybe that was part of it—but I think it was what happened to your family too. After that happened, he really started to take protocols more seriously.”

Behind him, Mattie reached the scissors and began cutting away at the duct tape that tethered her to the chair.

Eban began to pace. Mattie made eye contact with me. I gestured with my eyes to the back room. I hoped that she would get the hint to take Oliver and run when she broke loose. I would get out of the shop another way.

“Because of Griffin, I had to become the man in my family at age five, and my mother had to take my sisters and me back to her community. It is not a
gut
place. The Amish there were strict. The bishop is cruel. I saw him whip a man for the length of his hair. I was on the receiving end of his punishments as well. My mother thought that by marrying my father she had escaped
that harsh district, but with my father’s death, she had to return to it with her children. Over the years, I saw the bright and happy mother I knew as a child pull into herself and away from my sisters and me. And it was all because of all the loss she had suffered.”

“Eban, I’m sorry your bishop is cruel, but Griffin didn’t cause that.”

“Yes, he did,” he bellowed, taking two steps toward me with the knife outstretched. “If he hadn’t murdered my father, I would have grown up in a loving district, and I would have had both of my parents. My mother might as well be dead and my father most certainly is.”

Mattie, now free from the duct tape, stood up. I took care not to look at her as she stepped around the chair. But as she turned, she bumped the edge of the quilt frame with her hip and it made a screeching sound across the wooden floor.

Eban spun around at the noise. “Stop!” he bellowed.

I jumped out of the chair and picked it up and whacked Eban in the side with it. He staggered across the room into the wall of fabric. Half a dozen bolts of cloth from the shelving fell onto his head. The knife flew from his hand and skittered across the room in front of the display window.

“Mattie, get Oliver and go out the back!” I cried, and ran for the knife below the window.

Mattie hesitated for a second, and then ran to the stockroom door. She threw it open and Oliver raced to me.

I grabbed the knife. “Oliver, no,” I cried. “Go with Mattie!”

The little Frenchie pulled up short, obviously confused by my command. It was long enough for Mattie to grab him and run out the back door. I was weak with relief.

Eban struggled to his feet while I was distracted by Oliver and charged at me. I didn’t notice until he was almost upon me. I jumped to the side, and Eban crashed through the front window of Running Stitch.

Eban’s body hung halfway out of the window. He was badly cut. Gingerly, I picked my way to him. He was lying on his stomach and was still breathing. Thank God. I removed my phone from his pocket and called 911. And related what happened as quickly as possible.

The street was filling up as shopkeepers, customers, and the remaining Bigfooters came out of the shops up and down the street to see what all the commotion was about. Mattie ran into view around the side of Running Stitch still holding Oliver.

The sirens approached and I let out a breath because I knew Mitchell was coming.