The Wedding Caper (9 page)

Chapter Nine

I couldn’t help
but laugh as Sheila backed her SUV into my driveway. Her new “Honk if You Love
Peace and Quiet” bumper sticker seemed just right for our weekend getaway in
the Amish country. Surely she had purchased it with this occasion in mind.

In my
heart, I did long for peace and quiet. Ached for it, in fact. That’s why, as I
watched Sheila’s arrival through the living room window, I had to wonder if
having her along on this little jaunt to “God’s country” had really been His
idea—or my husband’s. Only time would tell.

She
bounded from the front seat in her usual quirky fashion. I chuckled as I
noticed the leopard print scarf she wore around her neck.
Very
fashionable.
The autumn wind snagged a hold of it and whipped it across
her face, nearly knocking off her jeweled sunglasses. Sheila caught them with
her index finger and pressed them back in place. What a diva.

As she
headed my way, I took in the rest of her outfit: The bright teal sweater and
black jogging pants seemed to suit her, and the hot pink trim on the new tennis
shoes finished off the colorful ensemble. Girl, you are something else.
Everything about this woman just screamed menopausal.

And I
totally got it. Which is why inviting her along suddenly felt just right.

Sasha and
I met her at the door, tail wagging—Sasha’s, not mine.

“Hey,
girl!”

Sheila
and I both spoke in unison,
then
the chuckling began.
If I didn’t know any better, I’d have to say we weren’t just kindred spirits,
we were “sisters from another mister” as Sheila liked to call us.

Within
minutes I’d loaded my bags and we were on our way. In true Sheila form, the
chattering began right off. She caught me up on all the action I’d missed at
the political league and I offered up a sigh, along with an apology for my
latest absence.

She
shushed my concerns with the wave of a hand. “You’ve got daughters to marry
off. We all know that. Besides, if you stay away long enough, they might elect
me president. So, take your time.”

After
that laughter we dove into a lengthy dialogue about Brandi’s registry items and
Candy’s cake selection. Unlike Warren, Sheila really seemed to appreciate the
self-made humor behind my Don’t-forget-to-register-for-your-toilet-paper joke.

She got
me. And that felt mighty good. So good, in fact, that I nearly forgot about the
$25,000. Nearly forgot about the mental image of Warren in a Pennsylvania State
Penitentiary jump suit.

Nearly.

We
arrived in Lancaster in record time, and then turned off on a country road
toward the smaller Amish communities I’d grown to love. Apparently Sheila
didn’t make it out to the Pennsylvania Dutch country very often, as was
evidenced by her fascination with every shop and restaurant along the way. The
childlike “oohs” and “
aahs
” warmed my heart.

Her
fascination ended, however, as we encountered our umpteenth Amish buggy. She
didn’t seem to handle them with the same degree of kindness I would have
displayed, had I been the one behind the wheel. Let’s just say, the words,
“Hey, mister, could you speed that thing up a little?” were a bit overused that
day.

As we
rounded the corner to the Heritage House Bed and Breakfast, my heart soared.
The surrounding property took my breath away, and the farmhouse, quaint and
lovely, drew me with its simple charm. Colorful leaves had fallen in abundance
offering up a dizzying scene of reds,
golds
, and
browns. I drank it all in and whispered, “Oh, God! You have surely kissed this
place with your beauty.”

Sheila
let out a whistle as we pulled to a stop. “You should’ve warned me,” she said
with a look of awe. “I would’ve brought my tissues. And some theme music.”

“I knew
you would love it. I just knew it.”

For a
moment we sat in blissful silence. Words would have spoiled everything, so I
listened, instead, with every one of my senses.

Finally, a
stirring on the driver’s side roused us from our trance-like state. A portly
woman in traditional Amish dress rapped on the driver’s side window. Sheila
pushed the button to lower the glass.

“
Wilkum
! Are you the Peterson party?” the woman asked. She
ran her fingers along the edges of her white
Kapp
and
I couldn’t help but wonder if she ever tired of wearing it.

We nodded
in unison, as kindred spirits would.

The jolly
woman let out a laugh. “Well, get on inside,
you’s
two! We’re about to serve lunch and you don’t want to miss it. I’ve prepared a
lovely ham, and a huge crock of the best corn chowder you ever tasted. And I
just pulled a loaf of fresh bread from the oven.”

“
Mmm
mmm
.” Sheila and I spoke in
unison again and my stomach rumbled in anticipation.

The
proprietor, who introduced herself as Mrs. Lapp, continued on as we exited the
car: “There’s Shoo-Fly Pie for dessert—best to be had, if I do say so
myself. I hate to brag, but folks from around these parts say I’m the best cook
in the Dutch countryside.” The zealous woman continued on talking a mile a
minute as we snatched our luggage and headed inside.
So much
for peace and quiet.

After one
of the most amazing lunches I’d ever eaten, Sheila and I rested in our room.
She took the brass daybed with the colorful quilt and let me have the larger,
double bed with the rich blue and white quilt. I’d almost dozed off when her
voice roused me.

“I’d say
it’s about time you told me what’s really been going with you these past few
weeks.”

I sat up
and gave her a quizzical look. “What do you mean?” The
thump-thumping
of my heart nearly gave away my feigned innocence.

She gave
me that I’m-older-than-you-so-treat-me-with-some-respect look and, in true
Sasha style, I tucked my tail between my legs. Perhaps the time had come to
spill my guts.

Sheila’s
penetrating gaze wouldn’t let me off the hook. Yes, I needed to tell her what
I’d been up to. She would run it all through her “Sheila-filter” and let me
know her thoughts on the matter.

And so I
began—tentatively at first, then with ever-increasing fervor. She
listened to my tale with her lips clamped—a rarity. I tried to gauge from
her expression what she might be thinking about my involvement in crime
fighting. I told her, with a few tears, actually, about Warren and the $25,000.
I filled her in on Nikki Rogers, single mom and security guard. Sheila’s brow
knotted as I got to the story of
Janetta
Mullins and
her wayward son. And her eyes misted over as I shared the specifics regarding
Richard and Judy Blevins.

As I
concluded, I expressed my concerns about not being able to narrow down the
suspect list. Sheila nodded and popped out a rather atypical remark: “Well,
Annie, if all you have is a hammer, everything looks like a nail.”

“What?”

“I
mean—” she gave me a pensive look, “—you’re swinging at anything
and everything. You haven’t narrowed down your list because you’re all over the
place with this. Truth is, you’re just following whatever feels right at any
given moment. You’re not looking at the whole picture. You’re not listening to
the clues. Not really.”

“Ah.” How
do I do that?

“You’re
the most trusting person I know,” she added. “And that means you’re easily
swayed.”

“Hey,
I—” I really couldn’t say more, all things considered.

Sheila
grew quite serious. Kind of threw me. “Truthfully, we don’t know if any of
those people took the money. We don’t even know for sure that
Janetta’s
daughter made the night deposit drop like she
said. The power was out, right?”

“Right.”
To be honest, that had worried me all along.

“So,
really, you could be chasing around after absolutely nothing. And all in an
attempt to exonerate a man you know in your heart couldn’t have done this. Am I
right?”

I
swallowed hard and nodded.

“Maybe
that’s why we’re here this weekend.” She yawned and leaned back against the
pillow. “Maybe you need to go back to square one and see where all of this
started. If the Lord is asking you to be involved—and that’s a big
if—then you’ll probably need to go back through all of the clues one by
one and ask Him to help you sort things out.”

If He’s
asking you to be
involved.
. .

Her words
caught me off guard a little. And kind of hurt my feelings. Didn’t she know me
well enough to know I wouldn’t dive
head-first
into
something unless the Lord had prompted me to do so?

On the
other hand, Sheila had witnessed my impulsive side on more than one occasion.
And she clearly had my best interest at heart. Maybe that’s why her opinion
mattered so much to me. I wanted to ask what she thought about all of my
suspicions—wanted to know if my ramblings had opened her eyes to any
possibilities. Come on, girl. Tell me what you think. Who did this?

She never
said a word. Instead, with all of the love of a true friend, she continued to
encourage me to get alone with God this weekend—to seek Him on the
matter. And not to let the “outside noises” sway me.

Outside
noises, eh?

As Sheila
settled down for an afternoon nap, I dismissed myself to spend a little time
out-of-doors with the Lord. My heart swelled as I strolled across the countryside
toward the little creek behind the bed and breakfast. In one hand I clutched my
Bible, worn from years of reading. In the other, my notebook and pen.

I settled
down on the embankment of the rippling creek and pulled my jacket tighter to
ward off the chill, ready to hear from the Lord. Within minutes, the lyrical
sound of the water as it rushed across the rocks lulled me into a blissful
state. There, in that place, I found myself tuned in as never before to His
voice. He seemed to speak through the water, the wind,
the
color of the leaves as they fell upon the water.

And His
words rang out loud and clear as I stumbled across one of my favorite verses in
the old Bible. “But blessed is the man who trusts in the LORD, whose confidence
is in him. He will be like a tree planted by the water that sends out its roots
by the stream.”

I leaned
up against the huge maple tree and spent some time in quiet reflection. I
wanted to be like that tree—sturdy and strong. I didn’t want to be blown
about by every wind that came along. Not a hammer, swinging at every nail. I
didn’t want to bounce around from one “suspect” to the other, making mountains
out of molehills. But how could I separate them out in my mind? How could I see
the bigger picture, as Sheila had suggested?

There was
only one way, really. I had to approach this logically, thoughtfully. I had to
listen to the clues, my heart and the Lord’s voice.

One by
one, I went through the list, asking God to give me His perspective on each.
Then I began to put together a comprehensive list, just to set things straight
in my mind:

Warren
Peterson.

Outward
appearances: Godly husband, father, and man of my dreams.

Motive:
Needed money to pay for two weddings ASAP.
Fear of
disappointing his two daughters.

Suspicious
behavior: Appearance of envelope with $25,000 cash. Closed-mouthed over the
funds, won’t talk to me about it.
Secretive and somewhat
sullen in behavior for the past few weeks.

Alibi:
None available. As a banker, occasionally handles night deposits and was seen
at the bank on the morning the money disappeared.

Possible
mode of operation: Could have taken advantage of the power outage/disabled
cameras to snag the
Clarksborough
Catering cash
deposit.

My plan
regarding this suspect: Check on our existing IRAs to determine if Warren
cashed one in to pay for the weddings. Pray for discernment. Do not assume.
Remember the “innocent until proven guilty” rule.

Richard
Blevins.

Outward
appearances: Brilliant Sunday school teacher, devoted husband, and dedicated
banker with thirty years at Clark County Savings and Loan.

Motive:
Insurance
company
issues. Needed funds to help with
his wife’s on-going cancer treatments.

Suspicious
behavior: Usually handles night deposits. Has avoided friends and co-workers
for an extended period of time.

Alibi:
None available. His car was seen at the bank approximately fifteen minutes
earlier than usual on the morning in question.

Possible
mode of operation: Carries a key to the building and has access to all security
codes. Probably knew about the expected night deposit. Could have taken
advantage of the power outage to pocket the cash.

My plan
regarding this suspect: Observe him carefully over the next few days to see if
his behavior changes further. Spend some time at the gym with his friends and
co-workers. Pray for discernment and pray for Judy.