Murder, Served Simply (4 page)

“Gracious,” said my mother, who sat on the other side of Eve and typically had water and salad for three meals a day. “How are we ever to eat all of this food?”

“You just have to take it on as a challenge, my dear,” Dad said, with knife and fork at the ready.

I picked up my own knife and fork, ready to dive in. I thought I would follow my father's lead and worry about my diet after the New Year. Besides, that's when it's trendy to worry about your weight anyway.

Eve stared at her plate.

“You aren't hungry?” I asked.

“Opening-night jitters, I guess.” She smiled. “Usually, I can push my nerves away, but there's something completely different about acting here, so close to my old community.”

“You have the lead.” I cleared my throat. “I—I saw it in the program.”

She chuckled. “I know the entire county is talking about me. You don't have to pretend that you didn't hear the gossip.”

“Okay.” I cut a roasted carrot in half with my knife. “I won't.”

The man to my left leaned into our conversation. “Eve is the star of our little production.” He held out his hand to me. “I'm Wade Brooklyn, the director. She is magnificent in the play. I'm taking all the credit for discovering her when she becomes a star on Broadway.”

“From your lips to the casting directors' ear,” Eve said with a smile, and then turned her head to reply to a question that my mother asked her.

Farley, who was also representing the township trustees at the dinner, patted his perpetually greasy hair. “I appreciate you wearing your uniform tonight, Sheriff. We don't want any trouble from Nahum.”

Beside me, I felt Eve tense, and across the table from me, Ryan's head snapped in the direction of that conversation.

Mimi pursed her lips. “Farley, I don't believe there is any reason for concern.”

“Who's Nahum?” one of the progressive diners asked.

“Just a crazed Amish man,” a handsome man in English dress and a surprising British accent said from across the table.

My mother leaned forward. “What crazed Amish man?”

I'd forgotten that my mother's love of gossip was rivaled only by that of Sarah Leham, a member of my quilting circle. Sarah knew more about the lives of the Amish in Holmes County than anyone—just as my mother had the same level of information on the socialites in Dallas.

“The man is a menace.” Wade gripped his water glass so tightly, I was afraid it would crack in his hand. “He shouldn't be allowed anywhere near the property. Mimi, you should take out a restraining order.”

Mimi forced a laugh. “Nahum is all bluster. There will be no need for that.”

I watched Eve out of the corner of my eye. She shifted in her seat.

Behind me there was a crash. Everyone turned to look. An Amish girl—I believed this one really was practicing Amish—put a hand to her mouth. “I'm so sorry.” She stood over the remains of a glass coffee carafe.

“Junie, please clean up.” Mimi's brow furrowed. “And then go back to the kitchen for a fresh pot of coffee.”

The girl dropped to her knees and started to gather up the pieces.

Eve stood up. “I can help her.”

Wade reached across me and stopped her with his hand. “No, Eve, I don't want my star taking any chances, like getting cut by glass before her big debut.”

Eve rolled her eyes. “Don't be ridiculous.”

“I don't need anyone's help,” Junie said barely above a whisper. I wouldn't have heard her if she hadn't been directly behind me.

I jumped out of my seat. “I don't have any reason to fear broken glass.”

As I knelt beside her and put pieces of glass on a plastic tray, she whispered,
“Danki
.
”

“Wilkumm,”
I whispered back and smiled as her eyes widened.

Eve turned in her seat and peered down at us. “Junie,” she whispered.

Junie wouldn't look at the other girl and fled with her tray.

I gave Eve a questioning look, but she faced forward without a word.

S
hortly thereafter, the actors excused themselves to prepare for the performance, and the guests bundled themselves back into their winter coats and scarves to make the short but chilly walk from the hotel to the barn where the play would be held.

I followed the crowd with my parents and Ryan, preoccupied by the encounter I had witnessed between Eve and the Amish waitress. I was thankful the wind was too brisk for much conversation, so Ryan could not attempt to ask me whatever he had wanted to say in the hotel lobby.

Inside the barn, padded folding chairs twenty rows deep were set up for the audience. The hand-built stage was at the far end of the barn. Blue velvet curtains had been installed and the stage floor polished. It seemed Mimi had spared no expense on the new business venture.

High above, three ceiling fans turned lazily, pushing the warm air from the central heating back down onto
the onlookers. The place was packed. Attendees who weren't part of the dinner were already seated, but there were two rows in the middle and front that remained open. I knew those were reserved for the progressive diners.

Just inside the barn door, my mother brushed snow off her coat with her gloves. “I forgot how cold it is here. Maybe my blood has thinned since I've lived in a warmer climate. I saw a special on one of those science programs on television about that. People who live in extreme heat often can't stand polar temperatures.”

My father chuckled as he removed his own gloves. “Daphne, you don't live in extreme heat. Ninety-nine percent of your time is spent in air-conditioning.”

“You never take my ideas seriously.”

My father smiled. “I take all of your ideas seriously.”

Willow pushed her way through the crowd toward me. She was hard to miss because she had styled her supershort hair into tiny spikes for opening night. Despite her looks, everyone in Holmes County accepted Willow, even the Amish. I suspected that they just found her to be eccentric. She was one of the longest-
standing township trustees. I partially had her to blame for my post on the board.

Willow's gauzy blouse ballooned around her as her blouses always did. “Angie, thank goodness you're here. One of the ushers called in sick, and I need someone to pass out programs.” She shoved a stack of glossy programs into my hands. “If you run out, there are more of those behind the hay bale there in a cardboard box.” She pointed at the hay bale.

“Sure,” I said. “I'm happy to help.”

My mother gave a tense smile. “My daughter is a township trustee. Isn't there someone else who can pass out the programs?”

Willow held out her hand to shake my mother's. “Of course, I know she is. That's exactly why I asked her. Willow Moon. I'm a trustee too. It's all hands on deck for such a little township when it comes to events.”

Reluctantly, Mom took it.

“You must be Angie's parents. I can't tell you what a ray of sunshine your daughter is to this township. She's smart too. Without Angie, a few mur—ouch!”

I stepped on Willow's foot because I knew she was about to talk about the recent deaths in Holmes County and my part in their investigations. My parents didn't need to know more than what I had told them about that.

Willow stepped away from me and twirled her crystal.

“Really, I don't mind. The house is almost full,” I said. “It won't take long to hand out these last few programs.”

Willow's smile widened. “You must be Ryan. I've heard
all
about you.”

The corners of Ryan's full lips turned up. “All good things, I hope.”

“None at all,” Willow said.

My father covered his laugh with a cough. I winced.

“You had better get to your seats.” I handed them each a program.

Ryan's fingers brushed my wrist as he took the paper. I blushed and felt my face heat up even more as I was
angry at my body for betraying me. Ryan shouldn't make me blush. I prayed Sheriff Mitchell had been called away and wasn't within the viewing area.

Ryan smiled at me, and I scowled back. Any sympathy I had for him evaporated.

I pointed down the aisle. “Your seats are in the middle section, down in front. They are the best seats in the house.”

My parents and Ryan had been standing there too long. Those waiting to get from out of the cold and into the barn slid past them impatiently. I shoved programs at them as they went. “Go on. I got this,” I said. “The show starts in five minutes.”

“Where will you be sitting?” my mother asked.

“I'll grab a seat as soon as everyone else is seated.”

“Can't you sit with us?”

I shook my head. “That place is reserved for the progressive diners. I wasn't going to be sitting there anyway.”

Mom pursed her lips. “I feel like we have hardly seen you since we arrived. I hope the entire visit won't be like this.”

A pang of guilt hit me. “It won't, I promise. Today was exceptionally busy. Tomorrow will be calmer, you'll see.”

“Yes, of course it will be,” my father said as he led Ryan and my mother to their seats.

Willow knelt down and scratched Oliver under the chin. “I'm glad you brought Oliver too. We need him for the play.”

“Wh-what?” I asked.

Oliver gave me a pleading look.

“There is a dog in act two. He sits with Eve's character as she sings to him about leaving the Amish. Any dog will do. Plus imagine how dashing he will look onstage!”

Oliver bumped his head against her leg as if to say, “Well, that is true, but please don't embarrass me.”

“What happened to the other dog?”

“He belonged to an animal trainer in Canton. The snow is really bad in Stark County, and she couldn't get him here.”

“I don't know. Oliver has never been on a stage before. The bright lights might bother him, or he might become afraid and run off. What if a bird gets into the barn? Then we'll really have some trouble.”

“Don't be silly. We don't have to worry about Oliver's fear of birds. There aren't any in the barn. We would have seen them by now in all this commotion. He will do great. He has that star quality.”

Oliver shuffled behind my legs.

Before I could argue, Willow took Oliver's leash from my hand and led my Frenchie away. I watched them go with a knot of dread growing in my stomach. As Oliver went, he looked back at me forlornly. I trusted Willow with my dog, but Oliver, although a ham, simply wasn't an actor.

I continued to hand out programs and point out open seats to guests. The sheriff came up to me.

“Program?”

He patted the back pocket of his uniform. “I got one. What's wrong with you? You look like you lost your best friend. Did Ryan say or do something?”

“Ryan is a problem, yes, but I'm frowning because I did lose my best friend. Willow took Oliver backstage.”

“Why?”

I interrupted our conversation to pass out three more programs.

“It seems the dog actor in the play is snowbound, and she needed Oliver as the stand-in. He knows Willow, but you know how scatterbrained she can be. Oliver could get scared back there by himself with no one he knows.”

“I'll send Anderson backstage to keep an eye on him. I need to put someone near the back anyway to keep an eye on the south entrance to the barn.”

“Would you?” I sighed with relief. “Thanks.” I considered his last statement. “Do you suspect trouble tonight?”

“I always suspect trouble. I'm a cop.”

I frowned.

“But nothing out of the ordinary. My deputies have canvased the property. Nahum isn't around.”

“Good.”

The houselights flashed, warning the audience the play was about to begin.

“You'd better get to your seat,” I said.

He winked. “You too.”

I snapped up an empty hay bale near the barn door. It was a chilly post, but I would be able to see any latecomers and hand them a program.

As I settled onto my hay bale seat, I wondered how Oliver was getting on. I was just about to get up and check on him when the curtain went up. The opening scene was an Amish farm. I thought the life-sized
wooden cow was a nice touch. Eve Shetler glided across the stage with her arms held wide as she breathed in the farm air. Since the theater was an old barn, that was very close to the true scent in the air. Her twirling movement was very Julie Andrews, and I wondered if she had seen
The Sound of Music
recently.

Eve was beautiful, thin, and lithe; she seemed to float across the stage. When she sang, her voice came out as a perfect soprano.

The scene changed to the inside of an Amish kitchen. Eve was cleaning and suddenly broke into song and dance. I had to cover my mouth to stifle a giggle. I think it was more the thought of an Amish woman tap-dancing in her kitchen that tickled my funny bone than anything else.

“What am I to do? Do I stay with my family, or do I follow my heart?”
she sang.

Okay, the cheese-o-meter was officially off the charts. I watched the members of the audience. They were wrapped up in Eve's performance. I didn't know much about acting, but even I could tell that Eve was a special talent and one that was wasted here in Holmes County. I hoped that this play would catapult her career. Wade had been right. She was a star.

At the beginning of the second act, Eve's young English beau, played by the handsome actor with a British accent, was alone onstage, singing about his love for the pretty Amish girl. One of his lines was “Could I give up my cell phone for her?” His native accent was gone onstage, replaced by a flat and spot-on midwestern twang.

I nearly choked. Although Eve had owned the stage,
this young actor struggled and would pause as he tried to remember his lines. For the first time, I wished I had sat beside my mother during the play just so I could see her reaction to his performance. I was sure I would hear about it later.

Eve was lowered on a swing made to look like a tree limb while her beloved looked on. The ropes and pulleys groaned as they lowered her. All the while, Eve sang about the choice she must make. She sang with such passion that I couldn't help but think she poured some of her own anguish about leaving her community into the song.

As the number ended, Eve climbed back onto the swing and was lifted up into the air. We could just see her feet below the top curtain. She was nearly at the very top when a scream reverberated through the barn, and Eve's tiny body smacked onto the stage with such force that a table overturned on the set. The unlit lantern sitting on top of it also fell and shattered into a thousand pieces across the stage.

That was when I realized I'd lied to my mother. There was no way tomorrow would be calmer.