Murder, Handcrafted (Amish Quilt Shop Mystery) (15 page)

B
y the time I reached Running Stitch, Mattie was already there and had everything set up for our nine a.m. quilting class. The class was held an hour before the quilt shop actually opened. Since the classes had grown so much in the last year, we’d discovered that it was better to hold the quilting classes outside of the shop’s regular hours because it was just too crowded inside the small shop to allow any shoppers to view the merchandise.

A few days before, Mattie had made up small kits of fabric and batting to make tulip-shaped pot holders for everyone in our Friday morning class. Each kit included fabric cut to the correct size and shape, thread, needles, a tiny pair of scissors, and a small pincushion to keep track of the needles.

Oliver followed me into the shop, and I set Dodger’s carrier on the floor. When I opened the cat carrier’s door, Mattie didn’t make her typical sarcastic comment about the cat’s arrival.

I studied her. “What’s wrong?”

Dodger bounded out of the carrier and scaled the shelves of fabric.

Mattie set a quilting kit on the last folding chair in the circle. “Wrong? There’s nothing wrong.” She looked around the room. “Do you see something amiss for today’s class?”

“No,” I said. “Everything is perfect as far as your setup goes. You’re a pro at this, Mattie. I’m asking what’s wrong because you didn’t say anything when I let Dodger loose in the shop.”

“I don’t have anything against Dodger. He’s a beautiful cat.” She wouldn’t meet my gaze.

“Really?” I arched an eyebrow at her.

She sighed. “I have no right to comment on anything that you do in the shop, Angie. This is your property, and you are my boss. After I have lied to you, I have no right to criticize anyone.” Her face turned bright red.

“Don’t lie to me again. We’re good.”

She clasped her hands over her apron. “Oh,
danki
, Angie.
Danki.
”

“You don’t have to thank me,” I said, smiling.

“In that case, why did you have to bring that rascal to the quilting class?” She smiled.

I laughed. “That’s more like it.”

As usual, Shirley, one of our longtime class members, was the first to arrive. “Good morning!” she said cheerfully after setting her quilting basket by her favorite spot in the class and making a beeline for the goodie table. This morning, Mattie had stocked the table with doughnuts and muffins from her family’s bakery. I’d tried to pay Rachel and Aaron countless times for the
food they supplied for all the events at Running Stitch. As of yet, I had been unsuccessful in that campaign. To compensate, I’d printed a large sign that stated A
LL
R
EFRESHMENTS
P
ROVI
DED BY
M
ILLER’S
A
MIS
H
B
AKERY
and made sure to put out some of the bakery’s business cards. I liked to think that the free samples translated into sales. Having watched many of the quilting class attendants make their way over to the bakery after each class, I had to assume that the tactic worked.

At the table, Shirley ignored the muffins and selected two doughnuts with sprinkles. I always made the same decision when faced with the choice between doughnuts and muffins. And when there were sprinkles involved, was there really a choice?

Oliver plopped himself down at her feet with his most pitiful expression plastered on his wrinkled face.

I clicked my tongue. “Oliver, give Shirley some space.”

Shirley chuckled. “Oh, he’s fine.” When she thought I wasn’t looking, she dropped a piece of doughnut on the pine plank floor for Oliver. He swallowed it whole.

I pretended not to notice.

Soon all the ladies were settled into their spots. Mattie began the class. “Welcome, everyone,” she said in a clear and confident voice.

Behind the sales counter, I couldn’t help but beam with pride. When Mattie had started working at Running Stitch, she had been a quiet and shy Amish girl, too frightened to speak in front of a room of
Englischers
. Now, she took on the task with ease.

The women praised the colors of the pot holder pieces cut to resemble tulip petals, and everyone, for
once, seemed to be pleased with the fabric that they had been given. The women settled into the work, and as the stitches began, so did the gossip.

Shirley threaded her needle. “Angie, I heard about the tragedy at your mom and dad’s home yesterday morning.”

“Oh, yes.” Another class member, Lois, adjusted her green plastic-framed glasses. “What a horrible thing to have happened to your parents after moving here.”

I nodded. “Mom and Dad are both upset about it.”

“Griffin Bright, the electrician, was the man who died—isn’t that right?” Shirley asked. “It’s all over the county that he was electrocuted.” She clicked her tongue. “Real shame.”

“What an unfortunate way to go,” Alice, a new member to the class and a round woman with rosy cheeks, said. “To be killed by your own profession seems so cruel.”

“Did he make a mistake?” Lois asked as she peered up from her stitches.

I wouldn’t say that I encouraged the gossip, but I certainly didn’t put a stop to it. Since the quilting classes had begun just months after I took over the shop, I had learned some very interesting tidbits from the ladies that later led me to a murderer. However, this was the first time that they knew I was directly involved because of where the dead body had been discovered.

“What do you know about his death? Was it really murder?” Shirley asked with a glint in her eye. It was the same hungry-for-information look that I had seen on Sarah’s face countless times.

“I’m afraid so,” I said.

Alice covered her mouth, and a few of the other women in the room stifled gasps.

“How terrible,” Lois murmured.

“I would have given them the name of a better electrician, one that no one would have wanted to kill,” Alice said.

“What’s the name of your electrician?” I asked as I moved around the room, keeping an eye out for anyone who needed help with their stitches.

“Rex Flagg,” Alice said.

Rex Flagg? That was the name of the rival electrician who started the wiring job at the mercantile and then suddenly quit. If he was such a great electrician, why then did he leave that job if it had been his choice to be there in the first place? I thought back to my conversation with Liam the day before. As I recalled, Liam hadn’t said why Rex gave up the job at the mercantile. In fact, Liam had given me the impression that he had no idea why Rex hadn’t shown up for work.

“What can you tell me about Rex?” I asked.

Alice frowned. “He’s good at his job.” She pursed her lips. “When he shows up. The man has some demons.”

Shirley snorted. “She’s trying to tell you that he’s a drunk.”

Alice’s frowned deepened. “He is trying to better himself.”

“How do you know him?” I asked.

“He did some work on my husband’s office. My husband is a dentist. He did a really wonderful job.” She narrowed her eyes at Shirley.

Shirley ignored the look. “Must have been one of those rare times that he was sober.”

Alice pursed her lips. “I had heard that he relapsed,” she finally admitted.

If Rex had gone on a bender, that would explain why he had abandoned Liam’s job at the mercantile. “Do you know where I can find him?” I asked.

Alice shook her head. “No, I’d recently tried to call him to have some work done on my house, but the number that I had from when he worked in my husband’s office had been disconnected.”

Lois shifted in her seat. “The murder is one thing, but there is an even bigger rumor circulating the county than the murder.”

I inwardly groaned. I knew where this was going.

Shirley leaned forward over her quilted tulip pot holder. “That’s right! There are a bunch of Bigfoot hunters running loose in the county.” She laughed so hard it came out as a cackle.

“A bunch?” I squeaked. Other than Willow I knew about only three.

“What are you talking about?” an elderly member asked.

Shirley sat back in her seat now that she had her audience. “Someone saw Bigfoot in the county.”

“Bigfoot isn’t real.” Alice tsked.

“That may be true,” Shirley said. “But don’t tell that to these men running around through the woods looking for him. They’ll never believe you. Nor will Willow Moon for that matter.” She chuckled and smoothed the two pieces of fabric she was stitching together over her lap.

“Is anyone really surprised in anything Willow Moon believes?” Alice asked. “With all her interesting ideas, how she ended up opening a tea shop in the middle of Ohio’s Amish Country will be forever baffling to me.”

“I heard there is supposed to be a meeting of Bigfooters later this morning,” Lois said.

“When is the meeting supposed to be held?” I asked with more than a little bit of anxiety.

She threaded her needle. “Ten fifteen, I believe.”

If Shirley believed that it was ten fifteen, it was ten fifteen. She was as good at gathering information as Sarah Leham.

From across the room, I could feel Mattie watching me. I knew my assistant would advise me not to go to the meeting. But how could I do that when it could be somehow related to Griffin’s murder?

Shirley shook her head. “It would be Bigfoot that would be the only thing to bring Raymond Sacks back to Holmes County.”

My brows shot up in surprise. “He’s from the county?” It seemed strange that he or Willow hadn’t mentioned that the night before. I wondered if Willow even knew.

She nodded. “Oh, yes, he grew up in Millersburg.”

“Why did he leave?” I asked.

“His wife died in a fire. He swore he would never set foot back in the county after that.”

“What started the fire?” I squeaked out.

“If I recall correctly, it was an electrical fire,” Shirley said.

My mouth went dry. That was what I was afraid she was going to say.

“I
’m just having the worst time matching up these pieces, Mattie,” Shirley complained, shaking two cloth petals in frustration.

Mattie smiled. “Let me help you.”

With that, the conversation moved back to the pot holders, but I couldn’t return to the task at hand as easily. Jonah’s cousin, Kamon, died in an electrical accident caused, at least in Jonah’s mind, by Griffin’s negligence. Was Griffin somehow responsible for Raymond’s wife’s death too?

“Shirley,” I asked, “do you know what caused that electrical fire?” I tried to keep the excitement out of my voice.

She wrinkled her nose. “I believe it was in a century-old farmhouse. The wiring in the basement was bad and caught fire while his wife was asleep. Raymond wasn’t there during the fire. It was rumored that he moved away out of guilt.”

“When was this? When did the fire happen?” I asked.

Shirley thought for a moment. “It was before my daughter was born. I would say nearly thirty years ago.”

Thirty years? That was even longer ago than Kamon’s death.

Through Running Stitch’s large display window I saw Raymond Sacks standing outside of the Dutchman’s Tea Shop. He was alone.

“Mattie, I’m just going across the street for a moment,” I said. “I should check in with Willow about this Bigfoot business.”

My assistant arched her brow at me and nodded. I opened the front door and Oliver wriggled out around my feet. Maybe he thought I would need backup. The ladies’ noisy chatter followed us out of the shop.

Outside on the sidewalk, Oliver and I waited for an Amish buggy to pass before we crossed the street. Through the large front window of Miller’s Amish Bakery, I saw Rachel behind the counter. It was a Friday morning, and business appeared to be brisk.

Raymond waved at me with his cigarette as I approached. “Glad to see you. We thought you weren’t going to make it.”

I raised my eyebrows. “You’ve been expecting me?”

“Willow suggested that you might drop by to tell us more about your Sasquatch encounter.”

Oh, she did, did she?

“We’ve been waiting for you,” he said eagerly.

I cleared my throat. “Actually, I would like to talk to you too. When did you arrive in Rolling Brook?”

“Late yesterday afternoon.”

I hid a grimace. “So you weren’t here yesterday morning.”

He studied me. “No.”

“What about your two friends?” I asked.

“No, we came together.” He frowned.

Oliver leaned against my leg.

“Have you been to the township before?” I asked, half expecting him to lie to me.

He took a drag of his cigarette. “I grew up here.” His eyes narrowed. “But why do I think you already knew that?”

“A member of my quilting class mentioned that she recognized you.”

He dropped his cigarette. “I knew I should never have come back here. Even if there was a promising Bigfoot sighting.”

“Why did you leave?” I asked.

“Why don’t you tell me since you know so much about me?”

“Your wife died in an electrical fire.”

His eyes narrowed. “I was away on business when my wife died. I’ll never forgive myself for that.” He pulled a pack of cigarettes from the breast pocket on his jacket and lit another one. “This is about Griff, isn’t it? You know that he was the electrician I hired to work in my house here.”

I blinked. I hadn’t
known
Griffin had been the one. I only suspected. “Yes,” I fibbed, “and you blame him for your wife’s death.”

“Of course I blame him!” he bellowed so loudly that
a buggy horse parked on the street jumped. “If it hadn’t been for him, she’d still be alive.”

He was so angry that it was easy for me to believe Raymond could hold a grudge against Griffin for thirty years. I held my arms loosely at my sides. “What happened? Did Griffin do something wrong that caused the fire?”

“He didn’t do anything; that was the problem.” His hands shook at his lifted the cigarette to his lips. When he lowered it again, he said, “We had just moved into the house. We knew there were issues with the wiring in the basement. The inspector told us that, but we were so eager to move into our new home, we didn’t want to wait for all the work to be done. Griff and I were friends. I asked him to take a look at it. He said that the electrical would be fine until he finished another large job. He said there was no reason to push back our move-in date.” He took another drag from his cigarette. “Stupidly, I believed him because Griff was my friend.”

“Why didn’t you just find someone else to do the job sooner?” I asked.

“I trusted him, and I thought I was doing him a favor by giving him the work. I should never have done that. He’s the reason my wife is dead.”

“And you’re back and now he’s dead.”

His lip curled. “I had nothing to do with it. I can’t say that I’m sorry the man is dead. He ruined my life. Something you might not know was my wife was two months pregnant when she died in that fire.”

I shivered. “I—I’m so sorry.”

“Not as sorry as I am.” He stared up the street in the direction of the pie factory. “It wasn’t until after I was already here that I heard about Griff’s murder. Had I known that the Bigfoot sighting had any connection to Griffin Bright, I would never have come. I found out about it last night outside of your parents’ home. I had no idea a crime had been committed until that moment.”

Willow popped out of the tea shop. “Ray, we’re ready—” She stopped talking when she saw me standing on the sidewalk a few feet away from the tea shop door. “Angie, you made it!”

Raymond continued to glare at me.

I cleared my throat. “I made it.”

She clasped her hand over the purple crystal that hung from her neck. “Does that mean you’re a believer?”

“Ummm . . .” I trailed off.

Raymond stubbed out his second cigarette on the sidewalk. “I’ll go inside and prepare the crowd for you, Angie.”

Crowd? There was a crowd?

The door closed behind Raymond but not before I caught a peek of the inside and saw that the place was packed. “How many people are in there?”

She scrunched up her nose. “Can’t say for sure. Maybe thirty.”

“Thirty? Are you kidding?” I squeaked.

“I would never kid about Bigfoot, Angie.” She sounded offended by the very idea.

I looked heavenward. The sun was bright and handfuls of clouds were suspended in the blue sky. For the
first time since the beginning of the month, it didn’t look as though it might rain at any moment.

She sighed. “Just come inside and see for yourself.”

I sighed. “Fine.”

She beamed. Then she pointed down to Oliver. “You might want to carry him. I’d hate one of the Bigfooters to step on his paw.”

I scooped Oliver up off the sidewalk and followed Willow into the tea shop.

Once inside, I gasped. The place was packed. There were mostly men, but I spotted at least four women. The only people I recognized were the three men I met the day before. The trio stood at the far end of the shop on a small stage that Willow sometimes used for live music or poetry readings that she hosted in the tea shop. Raymond pointed to a topographical map spread across a table.

Willow beamed. “It’s impressive, isn’t it?”

I wasn’t sure that “impressive” was the word that I would use.

She walked over to a sideboard where scones, tea, and other refreshments had been set out. She removed a quilted tea cozy from one of the many teapots.

“All of these people are here with the hope of seeing Bigfoot?” I asked.

She nodded and held a full teacup of the inky black liquid to me. It smelled suspicious, almost swamplike. Willow prided herself in making up her own tea recipes. The only problem was she wasn’t very good at it. In fact, her teas were terrible. Her worst offering was her October tea, Witch’s Bite. The memory of tasting that still brought tears to my eyes.

“This is a new recipe of mine,” she said. “I’m calling it Bigfoot Brew.”

If there was any tea on planet Earth that sounded worse that Witch’s Bite, it just might be Bigfoot Brew. I wasn’t dumb enough to take a sip to see if that prediction rang true.

I shook my head. “I can’t drink it while holding Oliver.”

She set it on the table closest to me. “I’ll just put it right here until you are ready for it.”

I’d never be ready for it.

“What are all these people going to do all day?” I asked. “They can’t go thrashing through the woods searching for the Sasquatch.”

Willow sighed. “Not everyone here is actively searching. Ray and his companions plan to give a presentation about the history of Bigfoot. Many of the people here are interested in that and are just here to learn more. They aren’t serious members of the society,” she said as if she found that to be a shame.

Raymond scowled at me before turning back to his map.

The door to the tea shop swung opened, and Head Township Trustee Caroline Cramer stomped inside followed by a smiling Farley Jung. “Willow!” our fearless leader bellowed. “I hope that you can explain this.”