Plain Killing (9 page)

“You will,” Rachel promised. “We’ll drop you off on the way.”

“On the way to where?” Evan asked.

“State College.”

 

The house was large, a block from a park, and situated on a wide, tree-lined street in an upscale part of town. It was seven forty-five, and lights were beginning to come on in the neighboring homes. Deep shadows fell across the lawns and sidewalks.

“Nice place,” Evan said as Rachel pulled to the curb a few properties down from the house they’d been looking for. “Nice to know someone in the state has money.”

“Hiring a live-in nanny isn’t cheap,” Rachel said. “Not that I’d know personally, but I’ve known business associates who had them.”

Contacting Lucy Zug had been almost too easy. And the young woman had agreed to speak with them if they could get there before nine p.m.

Rachel reached across to take Evan’s hand and give it a squeeze. It had taken all her negotiating skills to convince him that they should try to speak with Lucy before bringing in the detective. Evan was hesitant, but it made perfect sense to her. What if Lucy knew nothing about the other girls? Her safety might lie in the fact that no one knew where she was. Once the officials got into it, word might leak to the press, and she could find her picture in the morning paper. Whatever life Lucy had made for herself in the two and a half years or so since she’d left Stone Mill could be jeopardized needlessly. It was a leap to suppose that if her whereabouts became public knowledge, she might become a target for the killer, but who knew? Anything was possible. And if Lucy was keeping her new life a secret, what right did she and Evan have to risk her privacy?

“You know that if she gives us any leads,” Evan warned Rachel, “I have to take them to the sergeant.”

Rachel nodded. “I know. And I agree. But there’s no sense in us giving him false trails to follow. If Lucy has nothing to add to the investigation, then we don’t need to mention her name.”

They got out of the car and followed the sidewalk to the driveway of the house where Lucy had said she was staying. She’d asked them to come to the side door. Trees, shrubs, and flowers made the velvety lawn a showplace, and looking at it gave Rachel a few ideas for giving Stone Mill House a bit more year-round color.

A path led to a stone patio and an oversized blue door with an elegant bronze knocker. A basket of fresh flowers hung from a small, glazed, multipaned window. Evan rang the doorbell. He waited, then rang it again. Rachel waited, trying not to show how nervous she felt. What if Lucy had changed her mind and decided not to talk to them at all? A minute passed and then two more. There was no answer. Evan glanced back at her. “Did we blow it?” he asked.

Just then, the door swung open.

“Lucy?” Rachel asked the young woman standing there. She looked vaguely familiar. Maybe. Things had been crazy when Rachel first moved back to Stone Mill; she couldn’t honestly remember if she’d ever met Lucy or not.

“Yes, I’m Lucy Zug.” She was a plain girl with full, ruddy cheeks, brown hair pulled back severely into a knot at the nape of her neck, and large hazel eyes. She was dressed in a navy shirtwaist dress and white canvas boat shoes. She hugged herself protectively, thin elbows pressed tightly against her flat chest, fingers locked into fists.

Evan introduced himself and then Rachel.

Lucy’s voice was high and reedy. “Can we talk outside, Officer? If any of the neighbors saw you, I wouldn’t want Professor or Mr. Thornford to think I had people in when they weren’t at home.” She stepped out, leaving the door open behind her. “Baby Evelyn is sleeping,” she explained. “I’ll hear her if she wakes up.” Lucy’s English was precise, but she still retained her Pennsylvania Dutch accent, and that endeared her to Rachel.

“I call myself Lucy Baker here, but that’s not against the law, is it?”

“We aren’t here to cause any problem for you.” Rachel knew the girl had to be scared. It had taken Rachel years to become comfortable in her new skin after she left the Amish. “We’re simply trying to—”

“I know why you’re here. Enosh called me this afternoon, just before you did. He said you wouldn’t tell my family where I am.”

“We won’t,” Rachel assured her.

“Professor Thornford and Mr. Thornford know my real name. They’re very understanding, but I don’t think they’d like it if they knew police were here questioning me. At their house, I mean. They’re very protective of Baby Evelyn.” She smiled nervously. “First child. Lucky for me that I’m used to babies.”

“You have lots of brothers and sisters?” Rachel asked.

“Oldest of nine.” She waved stiffly toward a table and chairs. “Would you like to sit down, sir?” She balanced lightly on the balls of her feet, almost as if it took all her effort to keep from floating off the ground. “I don’t know what I can tell you. About Beth.” Distress showed on Lucy’s face. “Who would do such a thing to her? She was such a good girl. Everyone knew how kind and hardworking she was. Pretty, too.”

“We won’t sit,” Evan said. “We just have a few questions and then we’ll be on our way. We’re trying to find out where Beth was in the time she was gone from Stone Mill. Did you see her? Hear from her or anyone who might have come in contact with her?”

Lucy shook her head and glanced behind her to the open door. “I never saw her or heard anything about her. I told Enosh that. Beth and I were never friends or anything. Different church districts.”

Evan looked frustrated. “Do you know any of the other girls who left the Amish community recently?” He read the names from a little notebook he carried in his pocket.

“
Ne.
I mean,
ya
—yes, I knew who they were. But I didn’t even know they had left.” Lucy’s thin voice trembled.

“You can’t help us at all?” Rachel asked. The girl was clearly shaken by their coming, but whether she honestly didn’t know anything or was reluctant to talk to them, Rachel couldn’t tell. It made her feel bad that they’d upset Lucy so. She looked as if she was about to burst into tears at any moment.

A loud wail rose from inside the house. “Baby Evelyn!” Lucy exclaimed. “I have to pick her up. Professor Thornford doesn’t like her to cry. She says it’s emotionally damaging for an infant when their needs are left unfulfilled.” She threw Rachel a desperate look. “Please, is there anything else? I’m sorry that happened to Beth, but I really don’t know anything about any of the others.”

The baby’s howl rose to a full cry. Lucy backed toward the door. “You won’t say anything to the Thornfords, will you? I don’t want to lose this job.”

“I see no reason to.” Rachel reached into the bag on her shoulder. “I’m going to leave you my phone number. If you think of anything, no matter how small, that you think might help us, please don’t hesitate to call.” She handed the girl a business card with the B&B’s number on it. “One more thing. When you left home, did you have help? Finding a place to stay? Assisting you to find work?”

“
Ne.
I left on my own. Nobody helped me.” Lucy accepted the card but held it as if it were hot enough to cause blisters on her fingertips. “I really have to go, Officer.”

Evan thanked her, but the door was already closing. Together, Rachel and Evan walked back down the sidewalk.

“So, where does that leave us?” Rachel asked as they walked back to the Jeep through the gathering twilight. A scent of roses wafted on the breeze—heavy, almost cloying.

Evan sighed, obviously frustrated. “Nowhere, other than to cross Enosh and Lucy off the list.”

“But we haven’t found Hannah or Lorraine.”

“They could be anywhere. Even working in a house across the street.” He held out his hand for her keys. “Want me to drive home?”

She handed him the keys and slid into the passenger’s seat. As cooperative as Lucy had seemed, Rachel had sensed she wasn’t quite telling everything she knew. There was something about the pitch of her voice, particularly when she told Evan she had left the Amish on her own, without any help. And neither Lucy nor Enosh had explained how they had known where the other was. It was an unanswered question that worried her like a loose thread on her new jeans.

After church on Sunday, Rachel repeated the entire conversation she and Evan had had with Lucy to Mary Aaron. Rachel had attended early service at the Methodist church in Stone Mill, but for her cousin and the family, this had been a visiting Sunday, a day set aside for relaxing with friends and family. Among most Old Order Amish, formal worship services were held only every other Sabbath. Each household within a community church district took turns hosting the services in their homes, a holdover from the perilous times before coming to America, when the Amish, Mennonites, and other Plain folk who practiced adult baptism risked their lives to worship in secret.

Rachel had been pleased to find her cousin waiting for her on the back porch when she’d gotten home from church. Although she was close to her own brothers and sisters, Mary Aaron preferred spending visiting Sundays with Rachel, when she could steal away. Laughing and feeling like kids who’d played hooky from school, the two grabbed snacks and hastily retreated to their spot in the attic, the one place in Stone Mill House where no one could disturb them.

It wasn’t that Rachel didn’t like her guests. Normally, she adored welcoming visitors to Stone Mill House and helping them enjoy their stay in the valley to the utmost, but sometimes she grew weary of always being on call and needed to get away for an hour. With a house full of visitors Friday and Saturday night, Rachel was ready for a break. Even if it was just to escape having to smile so much and answer the same questions over and over again.

It was the perfect day to find refuge in the attic, where no one would think to look for them. Intermittent rain fell in sheets and drummed against the attic windows, shutting out the world. When Rachel was a child, her mother’s attic had been a retreat, and she’d been drawn to this spot from the first day she’d purchased the house.

This attic was large, divided into multiple rooms, and was a treasure trove of old furniture and cobwebs. Rachel and Mary Aaron had laid claim to one wainscoted chamber that embraced the double chimney on the west side of the original stone house. They’d spent long afternoons cleaning the grunge of years from the golden pine paneling and polishing the wavy-glass window panes until they caught the sunlight and sparkled. They’d scrubbed the floor, spread quilts over an old church bench and a pair of painted Windsor chairs, and laid an antique hooked rug on the floor.

On clear days, one of them would push open the window and they would lie on an old bedstead on their stomachs, propped up on elbows, to gaze out over the lush valley. In the winter, when the weather was inclement, the hideaway, made cozy by the warmth from the stone chimneys, was a delight. Rachel sometimes came up here alone to read or pray, but she was happiest when she could share it with Mary Aaron. Despite the difference in their ages, it seemed to Rachel as if Mary Aaron understood her better than anyone.

“So you think Lucy knows more than she’s telling,” her cousin suggested. Mary Aaron was seated cross-legged on the rug, a bowl of baby carrots and cherry tomatoes in her lap. Mary Aaron loved carrots, and she was fascinated by the petite, precut and peeled carrots Ada used for her vegetable plates when she was short on time.

Rachel nodded. “I am, and I can’t help thinking she was holding back because Evan was there. He tried to win her confidence, but . . .”

“He’s an Englisher.”

“Exactly. And a man. And a cop. Lucy was clearly afraid that her employers would come home and find a police officer there. I kept thinking that if I’d gone alone, she would have told me more.”

Mary Aaron held up a baby carrot. “If they make these by whittling down normal-sized carrots, what do they do with the rest? At the carrot factory. Feed them to the chickens?”

It was all Rachel could do not to chuckle. “No chickens. I’m not sure what they do with the scraps. Throw them away probably.”

“ ‘Waste not, want not,’
Mam
says,” Mary Aaron said. “Sometimes the English are difficult to understand.”

“Ya,”
Rachel agreed, and quoted one of her father’s favorite sayings, “ ‘Use it up, wear it out. Make it do, or do without.’ ”

“
Dat
said you changed out there among the Englishers. But not too much, I think.” She finished off the last carrot from the bowl. “And these are
gut
even if they are English.”

Rachel laughed. “They are, aren’t they?” Funny the little things that could make a person happy. Sometimes she longed for the times before she’d gone out among the English: simpler times, simpler pleasures. But her Amish world had always felt too small, and when she had become a teenager, she’d realized that the Plain life was not for her. At least, most of the time she felt that way. Only now and then, the old ways tugged at her heart . . . sweet memories.

Rachel swallowed, tracing the outline of the stylized flower that added rich color to the old rug. Had Beth been like her? Had Beth longed for a larger world with more freedom to spread her wings? And, if so, who had put an end to her dreams so violently? “I think I should go back and try again . . . with Lucy,” Rachel said. “Alone.”

Mary Aaron tossed a round red tomato at her. Rachel caught it and popped it in her mouth. “You can’t just leave it to the police?” her cousin asked.

“Lucy wouldn’t talk to Evan. I suspect she’s not going to talk to any other authorities.”

Mary Aaron regarded her solemnly. “You want I should come with you?”

Rachel considered the offer. Maybe Mary Aaron’s presence, in the clothing Lucy once had worn, the clothing Beth was wearing when she died, might encourage her to say whatever it was she had been holding back. “Would you?”

“I could probably get away tomorrow afternoon. We’re doing Monday washing in the morning, and then I promised to help
Mam
can tomatoes. If I pick the ripe ones before breakfast, Elsie and Magdalena can take my place canning in the afternoon. They’ll do it if you’ll help me run the dresses they cut out on Saturday. You know how Elsie hates to put in a hem, and Magdalena keeps running the needle into her fingers and getting blood on the material.”

“I can do better than that,” Rachel promised. “If you’ll come and help me interview Lucy, I’ll finish the dresses myself. It won’t take any time on my sewing machine.”

Mary Aaron looked wistful. “It does make a nice even seam.” Neither of them mentioned that the Singer in question was powered by electricity, or that Mary Aaron’s father had forbidden her to touch it. Why the bishop had declared Rachel’s sewing machine to be prohibited and the vacuum cleaner not, neither Rachel nor Mary Aaron had been able to figure out. But since the ban didn’t extend to clothing that Rachel sewed on her electric machine, the logic wasn’t worth contesting.

“Meet me at one o’clock at the end of your lane?” Rachel asked. She drew her knees up and hugged them tightly. Her mind was already racing, going over what she could say to Lucy to convince her that they needed her help.

“Better make it one thirty,” Mary Aaron replied. “That will give me time to clean up the dinner dishes.” She smiled. “I think I like this detectiving. It’s a little scary but fun. You said Lucy lives in State College?”

Rachel nodded.

“And I know a place in State College that has real tasty Italian ice.”

“Near the Grand?” The Grand was a restored movie theater that showed mostly G-rated films, a spot Rachel had heard was favored by the Amish youth daring enough to sneak away for a motion picture.

Mary Aaron nodded. “
Ya,
Giavanni’s.”

“And how would you know about
Giavanni’s?
” Rachel teased. “Is that where Timothy takes you on Saturday nights?”

Mary Aaron giggled. “Do I look like a girl who would go to a picture show with a boy? And if I did, would I be wooden-headed enough to admit it?”

 

The following afternoon, the two sat in Hulda Schenfeld’s van across the street from the Thornford residence. Rachel had borrowed the van again because her red Jeep was too conspicuous. She didn’t want any of the neighbors to notice the vehicle and remember it as the same one that had been there a few nights earlier. She tried to tell herself that she wasn’t adopting the methods of a TV detective, but there was no sense in being too obvious and alienating Lucy by causing trouble for her.

“How does this work?” Mary Aaron asked. “Do we go up and knock on the door?”

It was exactly what Rachel had been wondering, but she didn’t want Mary Aaron to know that she didn’t really have a plan, other than getting here and having Lucy give them information she hadn’t wanted to share earlier. Information she wasn’t certain even existed. “I don’t know. We’ll just wait here a bit and watch the house,” she said. She’d recently started reading amateur sleuth novels and found that she couldn’t get enough of them. She just wished she had more time to read. “See if an opportunity presents itself.”

Mary Aaron nodded sagely. The street was quiet. A mailwoman strode past, carrying letters and packages to each door. The only sound through the open van windows was birdsong. The mail carrier rang the bell at the professor’s house, and when the door opened, Mary Aaron whispered, “There she is.” She had known Lucy, though not well, back in Stone Mill.

Lucy accepted the package, chatted with the postal worker for a moment, then closed the door again.

“Okay, so we know she’s home,” Mary Aaron said.

“She goes by Lucy Baker here,” Rachel explained. “I think she’s afraid that her family will find out where she’s at.”

“And try and make her come home.” Mary Aaron tugged on one of her
kapp
strings. “They do that. If me or one of my sisters ever left,
Dat
would track us down all the way to Canada. You can be sure of it.”

Rachel rested her hands on the steering wheel, thinking back to when she had left Stone Mill. She wondered if her father had searched for her. It was something she had worried about, back then. She considered asking Mary Aaron but decided against it. Some rocks were better left unturned.

The mailwoman moved from house to house, going down the block. Rachel was just about to suggest that they go to the door when Lucy came around the house, pushing a stroller. “She must be taking the baby for a walk.”

They watched as Lucy continued on to the sidewalk and turned right. “I saw a park down the street,” Rachel said. “That’s probably where she’s going.”

“So we follow her,
ya?
”

Rachel nodded. Having Lucy take the baby out was better than trying to get her to open the door to them because if she was reluctant, there would be nothing they could do. With Lucy out in the open, however, it would be harder for her to get away from them. “Let’s give her a minute.”

Mary Aaron nodded, watching Lucy. “What did Evan say when you told him we were coming back today?”

Rachel turned the ignition and pulled away from the curb. “I thought it would be best to wait until we’d talked to Lucy. No sense in involving him if we don’t find out anything.”

Her cousin rolled her eyes and chuckled. “That’s what I thought. As
Mam
says about
Dat,
what a man doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

 

They approached Lucy in a small fenced-in area of the park reserved for children three and under. It was perfect, since she and Mary Aaron were between Lucy and the gate. What she hadn’t expected was for Lucy to take one look at them and burst into tears.

“
Ne, ne,
don’t cry,” Mary Aaron said, rushing forward and putting her arms around Lucy. “It’s so good to see you, Lucy. To see you doing so well.”

Lucy only sobbed louder and clung to Mary Aaron. She was saying something in Deitsch, but she was crying so hard that Rachel couldn’t understand a word. The baby, still in the stroller, startled by the newcomers and Lucy’s outburst, began to wail as well.

Rachel had to pick up the child, who was somewhere around eighteen months old, to comfort her.

“You must think me a woodenhead,” Lucy said after all the tears had been dried and the three were sitting on a bench under the trees while Evelyn dug in a sandbox with a red shovel Lucy had brought with her. “I was startled, that’s all. To see you, Mary Aaron. As crazy as it sounds, I miss everyone at home.”

“We understand,” Rachel soothed. “And we don’t think you’re foolish. It’s hard, what you’ve done, to come away alone and start over in the English world.”

A tear glistened in the inner corner of Lucy’s eye. “
Ya,
hard,” she agreed. “But you did it.”

“Not completely alone,” Rachel confided. “A Mennonite widow who used to buy eggs from us helped me for the first few weeks. She was my first connection to the English world.” She hesitated. “Someone did help you, didn’t they, Lucy?”

“I didn’t want to say anything to the policeman,” she explained, looking down at her hands, folded in her lap. “I wouldn’t want to get anybody in trouble. And . . . I was a little scared.”

Mary Aaron took Lucy’s hand. “You don’t have to be scared. Not of us. We only came to you because you’re the only one who might be able to help us. But we would never tell anyone that you’re here. I give my word.”

Lucy looked from Mary Aaron to Rachel. “I don’t understand how I can be any help. I don’t know anything about Beth. I didn’t even know her.”

“Just tell us how you came to leave Stone Mill.” Rachel met her teary gaze. “And the truth, this time.”

Lucy watched her charge for a moment. “It was Enosh. He sent me a bus ticket, and he told me the address of people who would let me stay with them until we got work. We lived there, me and Enosh, for a few months. Not—” She blushed. “Not
together,
but in the same house.”

“In Harrisburg?” Rachel asked. “Did you stay with the man Enosh works for?”

Lucy shook her head. “No, we were in Huntingdon. Enosh got the job later.” She pursed her lips. “Mary and Emmett DeStephano. On Oak Street, near the Baptist church. They were good people. Really nice. Emmett was in a wheelchair, and the house was big. Mary needed help, and we were glad to do what we could.” She straightened her shoulders, removed a tissue from her dress pocket, and blew her nose. “But I didn’t leave home to clean somebody else’s house and have them take care of me. I wanted a job. Mary’s granddaughter went to school at Penn State, and she knew that Professor Thornford needed a nanny. Mary arranged for them to meet me, and they hired me.” Lucy looked up at Rachel. “I didn’t want Enosh to get in any trouble, you know? That was the only reason I didn’t tell when you and the policeman came.”