Murder, Handcrafted (Amish Quilt Shop Mystery) (2 page)

A
half hour later, Oliver and I stood in the middle of my parents’ kitchen. I held the Frenchie in my arms, surveying the damage. Half of the upper cabinet hung precariously from what looked like one screw. The rest of it was out on the back deck. The panes of glass in one side of the French doors were shattered. There was glass all over the tiled floor.

I removed my cell phone from my pocket and made a call. Holmes County Sheriff James Mitchell picked up on the first ring.

“It must be a slow crime day,” I said.

“That’s how I like it,” he replied with warmth in his voice.

“I wish I could say it was a slow day for me too.”

“What happened?” His voice was immediately tense. I couldn’t say I blamed Mitchell. I had a reputation for stumbling into some tight scraps. Being my boyfriend and the county sheriff couldn’t be easy.

I gave him the short version of what happened, staring out at the unsalvageable French doors as I spoke.

“Do you want me to come there?” he asked.

“No,” I said. “I mean, I would love to see you, but Jonah is on the way. He and I will be able to clean up the mess.”

“If you’re sure.” There was the sound of shuffling papers. “I’m swamped in paperwork at the moment.”

In my mind’s eye, I could see him sitting at his desk in the sheriff’s department with a huge stack of papers in front of him waiting for his signature. “Don’t worry about it, Mitchell. I’ll call you when everything is settled.”

“Good. I wish I could see you tonight, but I have that meeting with the Millersburg police chief.”

“I’ll be fine.”

He laughed. “I have no doubt of that, but I miss you, is all. We’ve both been so busy. I don’t feel like I’ve seen you in weeks.”

I couldn’t suppress my smile. “I miss you too, Mitchell.”

There was a voice in the background of the other end of the line.

“Angie, I got to go. Call me later. Love you.”

He hung up before he heard me say that I loved him too.

I slid my phone in the back pocket of my jeans. As I did, I thought I saw a dark figure moving through the woods at the back of my parents’ property. The person moved in the shadows. I couldn’t see the person’s face. I couldn’t even tell if it was a man or woman.

I ran outside. “Hello?” I called to whoever was there.

There was no answer. Far enough away from the broken French doors, I set Oliver on the lawn. At my
feet, the Frenchie growled deep in this throat, confirming to me that I hadn’t imagined the figure moving through the woods.

I debated calling Mitchell back to tell him about what I’d seen, but thought better of it. He would drop whatever he was doing and rush to my side, and for what? To catch someone cutting through the woods? Most likely it was a hiker out exploring.

Mom and Dad’s home stood alone on a hill. The front of the house overlooked a large Amish sheep farm. In the back, there was half an acre of lush green lawn and flower beds. This time of year, the gardens were filled with irises, tulips, bleeding heart, and sweet woodruff. Beyond the lawn there was a tree line that led into the woods. In the time that my parents had lived in the house, I’d never been in the woods. I doubted they had either. Mom and Dad weren’t the outdoorsy type.

To my left there was a small silver construction trailer. A large stack of lumber lay next to it under a blue tarp. The trailer was new. I suspected it was another one of my father’s ideas. I sighed and was about to call my mother for an update when I heard someone inside the house call my name. “Angie!”

I scooped up Oliver and ran back through the busted French door. I found Jonah and Eban in the kitchen. “You guys got here fast,” I said, slightly out of breath.

Jonah smiled. “I told you I’d come as quickly as I could.”

Eban stood beside him, holding a red toolbox. “This is quite a house.”

I couldn’t argue with that statement. The kitchen
was about the same size of the entire first floor of my rental house in Millersburg.

Jonah whistled as he surveyed the damage to the cabinets and the door. “Your father just went for it, didn’t he?”

I sighed. “Dad doesn’t do anything by halves.”

Jonah raised his eyebrows at me. “That reminds me of another Braddock I know.”

I held Oliver to my chest. “Can you fix it?”

He nodded. “Not a problem. We’ll clean up the glass, board the doors, and finish taking out the cabinet. If we don’t, it might just fall on its own accord. We don’t want that. How much can we take out?”

“All of it,” I said. “The plan was to gut the kitchen.”

His eyes widened. “And your father was going to do the demolition?”

I nodded.

He grimaced.

Eban set down the toolbox. “We should get to work then.”

“Right,” Jonah agreed.

My cell phone rang. I pulled it from my pocket and checked the readout. It was my mother. “We’re in the driveway,” Mom said. “I need help getting your father into the house.”

I told her I would be right there. Jonah and Eban were already sweeping up the broken glass. I took Oliver with me and headed for the front of the house.

When I exited the front door, Mom was setting up a walker in front of my father by the open passenger side door to her car. A thick lock of hair fell out of her
sleek blond bob, which illustrated just how upset she was. My mother’s hair never disobeyed her. Ever. My wild blond curls, however, did whatever they wanted.

My father took ahold of the walker and winced. My stomach dropped, and I set Oliver on the ground. “Dad, are you okay?”

He half smiled, half grimaced at me. “Oh, I’ll be all right, AngieBear. Just as soon as the meds the doc gave me take effect.”

Mom took one of his arms, and I took the other. Together we heaved him to his feet and he took a firm grip on the walker. My father is not a small man and had never been thin. At six feet tall, he was over three hundred pounds. I bit the inside of my lip as I watched him move the walker toward the house. His feet shuffled over the cobblestone walk and, for the first time, I saw my larger-than-life father as fragile. It was the first time that I didn’t believe he would live forever, and realization smacked me like a sledgehammer to the chest. My breath caught.

“Angela,” my mother barked from her spot next to my dad. “Close the car door and help me get him up the steps.”

Leave it to my mother to bring me crashing back down to the situation at hand.

I did as I was told and, finally, Mom and I settled Dad on his huge leather recliner in the living room. It was the one piece of furniture in the house that Mom had allowed Dad to pick out.

“What did the doctor say?” I asked.

“Your father has a bulging disc, and because of his weight, it’s much worse than it would normally be. He has to go to physical therapy five days a week, starting the day after tomorrow, and we have pain killers.”

“Oh, Dad.” I squeezed his hand.

“I told you I’ll be fine. I might not be wielding a sledgehammer again, but I will be as good as new. You’ll see.” He smiled at me.

My mother’s face was pinched as she fussed with the pillows around my father.

“Was that Jonah’s horse I saw outside?” Dad asked.

I nodded. “I asked him to come look at the broken door. He and his friend Eban could finish the whole demo job if you like.” I paused. “I think it’s a good idea.”

Dad frowned.

“Kent, you are in no condition to take on this job. Jonah or someone else can do it.” Mom gathered up Dad’s favorite Sudoku books and the day’s paper and set them on the table beside him. “I told you that from the beginning.”

“It looked so easy on YouTube.” He sighed so deeply, it was as if the whole of the Internet had failed him.

Mom sniffed. “The Internet makes people overconfident, if you ask me.”

He gave me a sheepish face. “Maybe I shouldn’t have started right off with the sledgehammer.”

Mom pursed her lips and turned to me. “If your father doesn’t do well in therapy, he will have to get shots in his back and maybe even surgery.”

Dad paled at the mention of the shots. I was sure I did too. We had the same loathing of needles. The last
time I had a blood test, I fainted before the nurse even took the plastic wrapper off the syringe.

“I’m sure it won’t come to that,” I said as cheerfully as possible. “Mom, why don’t we let Dad rest, and I can show you what Jonah and Eban are doing in the kitchen?” I pointed at my Frenchie. “Oliver, stay with Grandpa.”

Oliver jumped on the ottoman at Dad’s feet and sighed contently. I think he wanted to see for himself as much as I had that Dad was okay.

When we entered the kitchen, we found that Jonah and Eban had already cleaned up all the broken glass, removed the high cabinets from the walls, and were in the process of boarding up the broken French door.

Mom blinked. “I can’t believe you did this all in such a short amount of time.”

Jonah grinned. “It wasn’t much trouble.”

“Do you think you could finish the job?” Mom asked. “My husband is no condition to do any construction. He planned to do everything except the electrical and the plumbing himself. At least he knew he couldn’t do those.”

Jonah smiled. “We’d be happy to.” He nodded to Eban. “This is my friend Eban Hoch, Mrs. Braddock.”

“How do you do?” my mother asked formally. “Maybe I should hire a contractor,” Mom mused. “It is a very big job.”

“Mom,” I said. “I’ve seen Jonah build a barn from the ground up. He’s more than up for the task.”

“You’re right.” She plastered on her hostess smile.
“You’ll have to excuse my rudeness. I’m so distracted by my husband’s injury.”

“I understand, Mrs. Braddock,” Jonah said. “Is Mr. Braddock okay?”

“He will be. He hurt his back, but as the doctor told us, it could have been so much worse.”

“I am glad to hear that. Eban and I will finish boarding up this door, and then you and I can meet and review your blueprints. I want to make sure the door won’t let a drop of rain inside. The forecast predicts another storm. Tomorrow morning, Eban and I’ll get right to work.”

“More rain?” I asked. After a dry April, May was turning out to be a soggy month. I supposed it was trying to make up for the rain we missed earlier in the spring. The spring flowers might like it, but I wish it didn’t have to catch up all at once. The Amish farmers murmured about the potential for flooding if the persistent rains kept up.

Flooding would have a devastating effect on many of my Amish friends. I’d learned since moving back to the rural county that many lived or died by the amount of rain they were granted from above. Droughts like those found in Texas were rare in Ohio, but flooding was common, especially in the spring and early summer.

Jonah ignored my outburst. “We’ll get right to work. I know several good carpenters and masons who work fast and do excellent work. I can call them in if need be. All will be well.”

Mom clasped her hands in front of her freshly pressed linen blouse. She also wore a single string of
pearls, which sat perfectly straight on her throat. Mom wasn’t one to let her Dallas society style lapse just because she and Dad moved back to Ohio for the warmer months.

“Thank you, Jonah. I know you must be better with your hands than you were as a child when you broke my grandmother’s precious lamp,” my mother said in the light Southern drawl she had picked up when she, my father, and I moved to Texas when I was ten. Funny, Dad and I never lost our flat Midwestern twang.

Jonah and I shared a look. I bit down hard on my lip to stop myself from bursting into laughter. Jonah didn’t appear half as amused as I was.

Mom smiled, but she still looked worried. “The electrician should be here soon. I wanted him to install some recessed lighting over the stove area. He promised to stop by to see the extent of work that needed to be done to accomplish that.”

“Your kitchen is large. It should not interfere with what we have to do on this side of the room.” Jonah paused. “Who’s the electrician?”

“Griffin Bright,” Mom said.

Jonah stiffened when he heard the name. I raised my eyebrows at him. Jonah was just about the most outgoing and friendly Amish man—or really any man—in the county. There were very few people who would cause him to flinch like that. Jonah balled his hands at his sides and quickly stretched out his fingers as if he realized he was tensing up. “Perhaps you and I should meet to discuss your plans while Griffin works. I think it would be best if I stayed out of his way.”

I gave Jonah a questioning look, but he wouldn’t make eye contact. Yep, there was definitely a story there. I would get to the bottom of it. I was nosy like that.

“That sounds like an excellent plan.” Mom patted his arm. “The blueprints and everything that you need should be in the trailer in the side yard.”

“I was going to ask you about that. What’s the trailer for?” I asked.

She sighed. “Your father rented it. He claimed he needed it for the project. I’ve committed to having it for at least another month, so you might as well use it while you can, Jonah.”

“Danki,”
Jonah replied.

She nodded to Jonah. “I should check on Kent. I’ll leave you to it. When you’re ready to meet with me I’ll be in the living room with my husband.”

“Since everything is under control now,” I said, “I’d better head back to Running Stitch. Mattie will wonder what became of me.”

Mom squeezed my hand. “Thank you for coming, Angie.”

I smiled. “Of course, Mom. If you call and say Dad’s been hurt, Oliver and I will come running.”

She sighed and left the kitchen.

After she was gone, I turned to Jonah. “What’s the deal?”

“What deal?” Jonah asked as he walked up to the French door and held a piece of measuring tape over the wide opening. “Must you always speak in riddles?”

Eban sent a nail home with the thwack of his hammer. Apparently boarding up doors was old hat for him.

“What’s the deal with Griffin Bright?” My eyes narrowed. “I saw how you reacted when Mom mentioned his name.”

Jonah pulled me away from Eban to the far corner of the kitchen. There was pain in his eyes, something that I hadn’t seen since I told him I was moving away when we were kids. “He killed my cousin.”