Murder, Handcrafted (Amish Quilt Shop Mystery) (6 page)

I
was attempting to pull Petunia away from my mother’s tulips when a bright yellow compact car raced up the hill and screeched to a stop in front of my parents’ house. The driver parked the car in the middle of the road, and a woman jumped out of the driver’s seat. She made a beeline for me, leaving the door of her car wide-open.

Petunia stepped in front of me, and I suddenly felt a lot more grateful for the goat.

The woman was thin and her brown hair was piled on top in an elaborate braided bun that looked painfully tight. There was something about her that was vaguely familiar. “Where is he?” The bangles on her arm rattled together as she yelled the question at me.

Deputy Anderson and the two officers stopped circling the tree and cautiously headed toward us. At least backup was close by.

“Where is who?” I asked.

“Griff! Where is my fiancé?”

I stared at her. “Griffin was your fiancé?”

“Yes,” she snapped. “Is he telling people something different? I’ll kill him.”

Too late for that, I thought.

Anderson spoke in his radio as he approached the woman, and a moment later, Mitchell and another of his deputies came around the side of the house.

“I know he’s here,” the woman said. “I need to talk to that good-for-nothing scoundrel. If you’re not going to tell me where he is, I’ll find him myself.”

I grimaced. I didn’t want to be the one to tell her that her scoundrel fiancé was dead. Thankfully, Mitchell had reached us by that point. “What’s going on here?” Mitchell asked.

“I’m looking for my fiancé, Griffin Bright. He should be here working on this house. I told him not to take this small job when he has a big contract in town, but would he listen to me? No. He never listens to me.”

“Ms. . . .” Mitchell began.

“Zeff. My name is Mallory Zeff. Now, will you please tell me where Griff is?”

“When was the last time you saw Griffin?” Mitchell asked.

“Two days, when I threw him out of my apartment. He came begging to me to give him more time, but I gave him an ultimatum. The wedding had to happen by the end of this year, or I was leaving him for good.”

“Wait,” I interrupted. “I thought you said he was your fiancé.”

Her dark eyes narrowed. “He
is
my fiancé. We’ve been together for years. I’m tired of him putting off the wedding. I came here to give him a piece of my
mind. He’s not answering any of my calls or texts.” She scowled. “So typical. I don’t know why I put up with him at all.”

At that moment, the EMTs pushed the gurney that held Griffin’s body around the side of the house.

The sight of the gurney seemed to shock her, and then she looked around and seemed to register all the police officers and their vehicles. “What’s going on here?”

“Miss Zeff,” Mitchell began. “I need to talk to you about Griffin.”

Understanding dawned on her face. “Griff?” she whispered. Mallory lunged at the gurney. Mitchell caught her before she could reach it. Wisely, the EMTs picked up their pace and transferred Griffin’s body to the ambulance. The tires of the ambulance screeched as they sped away from the curb.

The woman was crying. “You can’t take him. That’s my fiancé. You just can’t take him.”

“Sheriff,” Deputy Anderson said, “I’m sorry to interrupt, sir, but Mr. and Mrs. Braddock want to talk to you.”

I grimaced. It sounded like Mitchell was being called to the principal’s office, and with my mother, that was a pretty good comparison.

Mitchell looked heavenward for the briefest of moments. “Please record Miss Zeff’s statement. I will be right back.” He strode to the house.

I watched Mitchell go. I was torn between learning more of what Mallory Zeff might know about Griffin’s death and shielding Mitchell from a verbal attack from my mother.

Deputy Anderson made the decision for me. “Angie,” he said, “you should probably give Mitchell some backup with your mom and dad.” He wrinkled his nose in concern for Mitchell, and I knew he was right.

It wasn’t until the deputy led Mallory away that I remembered why she looked so familiar to me. I had seen her before, just a few yards from where Petunia and I stood at that very moment. She was the sullen woman who had been sitting in Griffin’s truck yesterday, which meant she had been lying. The last time she had seen him hadn’t been two days ago. What else was she lying about?

This knowledge spurred me to find out where Mitchell went. It was even more important than rescuing him from my mother’s barrage of reprimands and complaints.

Inside the house, I tied Petunia to the banister in the foyer. Even as I did it, I had a sinking feeling that it was very bad idea. I was about to untie her and take her back outside, when my mother cried, “You can’t be serious!”

I abandoned the goat and dashed into the next room. I don’t know what I expected to find in my parents’ living room, but my mother glaring at my boyfriend was not a welcome sight. She poked her manicured fingernail into his chest. “James Mitchell, I am in the middle of a massive renovation here. I don’t have a working kitchen. I need that to be fixed, especially since there is a murderer running loose in this county, and now you say I have to leave my own home. What is Kent supposed to do? He’s injured his back. He can’t
sleep on some hard hotel bed. That will only make his pain worse.”

Mitchell almost appeared neutral as my mother poked him, but I saw his right cheek twitch. Ever the gentleman, he would never tell my mother off, even if she might deserve it.

Oliver, who had been seated next to my father’s chair doing his best to play the part of guard dog—which was an impossible feat for a funny-face Frenchie—crept over to me at the door.

Dad cleared his throat from his spot on the recliner. “James, as you can see, my wife doesn’t want to leave our home.” He grimaced. “And I have to agree with her about my back and the hotel bed.”

“I’m not saying that you have to leave,” Mitchell said in an even voice. “I was only making a suggestion. The investigation in your backyard might go on for some time. We’ll move the trailer to the crime lab as soon as possible, but several eyewitnesses saw someone near your property. My first concern is your safety.”

Dad reached up and took my mother’s hand. “We understand.”

Mitchell glanced over at me. I hadn’t even known he’d realized that I had entered the room. Not that I should be surprised; Mitchell was always aware of what was going on around him.

“I will not abandon my home,” Mom declared.

“I can stay here,” I spoke up. “The more people here to keep watch on the house, the better, and with Dad not being able to get around as well as usual, I would like to keep an eye on things. It’ll only be for a couple
of days. I’m sure Jonah and his men will have the kitchen done as quickly as possible.”

Mitchell’s head snapped in my direction, and I gave him my most innocent smile. By staying at my parents’ home, I might have an opportunity to delve into the murder and clear Jonah’s name, and it was true I wanted to keep an eye on my father. His back injury worried me.

Mitchell’s eyes narrowed. Sheesh. You’d think that the guy didn’t trust my motives.

Mom nodded as if liking the idea. “You can stay in my future grandbaby’s room.”

Okay, I was already regretting my decision. I dared to peek at Mitchell.

The sheriff’s jaw twitched. I didn’t know if it was from my obvious scheme to investigate or the mention of grandchildren. Probably both.

I gave Mitchell the best set of puppy-dog eyes I could muster.

He gave a slight shake of his head. The eyes didn’t work. They never did. Not with the pageant judges, my parents, or Mitchell. Why then, did I keep trying with the hope of different results?

Dad shifted in his seat and winced. “I hate to ask you to leave your own home, AngieBear. I’m not an invalid.” He patted his walker. “With my aluminum steed, I can get around pretty well.”

“I want to stay,” I said. “I’ll feel better if I know you and Mom are safe. If I was at my own house, I would only worry there.”

“I think it’s a splendid idea, Angie,” my mother said
as she gave Mitchell a level stare down. “It will give us a chance to chat about your future.”

My future?
I would avoid that conversation at all costs, even if it required me to run headlong into Bigfoot’s arms. I put a brave face on for Mitchell’s sake.

He gave me a steady look. “All right,” the sheriff said in resignation. It was almost as if he knew he would never win with a roomful of Braddocks up against him. He was right in that regard. “We still have to process the kitchen,” Mitchell said. “Jonah claimed to enter the backyard through the broken French door. We want to make sure his story jibes with the physical evidence. I wouldn’t expect any work being done in the kitchen until tomorrow at the earliest.”

“That’s settled, then,” I said and picked up Oliver. “I’ll stay. Now, I really have to run. I need to stop at home before opening the shop.”

“I’ll walk you out,” Mitchell said.

In the foyer, we found Petunia still tethered to the banister, munching on a piece of crime scene tape.

Mitchell ran his hand through his dark hair flecked with silver. It definitely had more silver than when I first moved to Holmes County. I refused to make the correlation.

“How in the world did she get ahold of that?” Mitchell asked.

I shrugged, setting Oliver on the floor next to the goat. “Do you think it will make her sick?”

“It’s not any worse than most of the stuff that she eats.” He paused. “So you just happen to want to stay
at your parents’ home to protect them?” His voice dripped with doubt.

I put my hands on my hips. “You don’t think I’m worried about my own father?”

He held up his hands as if to warn off the barrage of words I was about to throw at him, and I had some doozies in mind too. “I know you’re worried about him. You have every right to be. I’m only suggesting that caring for your parents isn’t your only motive for wanting to stay here.”

My eyes narrowed into slits. “What are you implying, Sheriff?”

He focused his blue-green gaze directly at me. “You want to snoop.”

I didn’t confirm or deny this.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “This case is going to be a pain. I can already tell. And it’s not just because the crime was committed on your parents’ property, but that certainly doesn’t help.”

“Neither does Bigfoot,” I reminded him. “That’s a new one.”

He groaned. “There’s no such thing, but there will be some Amish in the county who will be offended just by the rumors of its existence. They aren’t much for make-believe, as you know.”

I nodded. Martha Yoder immediately came to mind. She would hate the rumor about Bigfoot in the county and would somehow blame me for it. Martha had once worked for my aunt at Running Stitch. She had even taken care of my aunt Eleanor while she was battling cancer.
Because of her loyalty to my aunt during that difficult time, she had expected that she would be the one who would inherit Running Stitch upon my aunt’s death. To her surprise, and frankly to mine, Aunt Eleanor left the shop to me. Martha never forgave me for that and, out of spite, opened a rival Amish quilt shop, Authentic Amish Quilts, right next to Running Stitch.

I untied Petunia and led her out the front door. Oliver and Mitchell followed me as I walked the goat to my small SUV parked crookedly on the street. “At least you have a good suspect.”

Mitchell arched his brow.

“Mallory, Griffin’s fiancée. Something is up with her. She already lied once.”

His gaze sharpened. “What do you mean?”

I went on to tell him about seeing Mallory in Griffin’s truck the day before.

“Interesting,” Mitchell said thoughtfully.

“Can I talk to Jonah before I go?” I asked.

He shook his head. “He’s still being questioned. I need to have a little chat with the fiancée.” He squeezed my hand. “Don’t do anything stupid. Please.”

“Me?” I asked. “Do something stupid?”

He shook his head and walked back into my parents’ house.

As much as I wanted to stay and support Jonah while he was being questioned, I knew that I could do more good by finding out everything I could about Griffin Bright and those who might want him dead. I also needed to find out how Kamon, Jonah’s cousin, died, and why he thought Griffin had been responsible
for his death. It would be some time before I could hear the story from Jonah, so I needed to consult another source.

I gave the house one last look and loaded my Frenchie and the goat into my car.

It was still early and the shop didn’t open until ten, so I had time to stop at home and shower.

I got home, freshened up, and told Dodger he had to stay home for the day. He was not pleased. But Petunia and Dodger didn’t get along, and I couldn’t contend with a goat versus cat smackdown on top of everything else.

When I reached the shop, I walked Petunia to the small fenced backyard by way of the narrow alley that divided my shop from Martha Yoder’s quilt shop.

“Try not to eat all of the flowers,” I said even though I knew the request was pointless.

I was going to be alone in the shop that day. I had given Mattie time off to help at the pie factory. She’d said that Aaron needed her the entire day. The request was unusual. The factory had been open for six months, and this was the first time that Aaron had Mattie fill so many shifts. I hoped that Aaron wasn’t trying to take her away from the quilt shop and back into the family business. I didn’t know what I would do if I lost her. I’d never find another assistant as good or as flexible with my many ideas.

I glanced at the clock hanging over the sales counter. I still had a half hour before opening. That was plenty of time to check in with Rachel and tell her about the morning’s events.

“Oliver, let’s hit the bakery.”

Oliver perked up at this because he knew visiting Miller’s Amish Bakery across the street would mean a sampling of Rachel’s homemade dog biscuits.

Through the large window in the front of the bakery, I could see Rachel behind the counter, ringing up an English customer. There weren’t any other customers in the bakery, so this would be a good time to catch Rachel before the next rush.