No Use Dying Over Spilled Milk (16 page)

She stared at me through swollen slits. The batwings had migrated down to the corners of her mouth. “I don’t want other fish, I want Danny."

“But dear, you’ve only known the man for a couple of days.”

“Oh, you wouldn’t understand!” The ducts began to leak again, pushing the batwings farther south.

“What do you mean, I wouldn’t understand?” I bristled. “I have Aaron. And I’ve known him a lot longer than you’ve known Danny.”

She was strangely silent.

“And anyway,” I said, pushing my luck, “how do you know Danny has dumped you? Have you spoken to him this morning?”

She shook her head.

“See? No news is good news, right?”

She shook her head again. “I told you that you didn’t understand. Danny and I were going to be married. This morning. We were going to elope!”

I slumped down on the floor beside her. Sometimes Susannah is more than I can bear. Maybe if Mama and Papa hadn’t gotten themselves killed, things might have turned out differently. Maybe Susannah would have gone to college, maybe even become a doctor. Maybe Susannah would have married a Mennonite instead of a Presbyterian, and still be married, with four or five little boys of her own.

“But no, you had to go and spoil it all,” Susannah said mercilessly. “You just had to go and ruin my life again.”

“How?”

“By making a fool out of everyone at the restaurant,” she snapped. “That’s why Danny dumped me. I just know it.”

Shnookums, taking a cue from his mistress, snapped at me.

I snapped back.

I did what any loving big sister would do. I drove Susannah and the mangy mutt around both Farmersburg and Canton looking for the reluctant groom. Of course it galled me to do so, but what choice did I have? With Lizzie in her tizzy I couldn’t very well leave Susannah there. The murders of Yost and Levi were just going to have to wait while I attended to my sister’s needs.

With Susannah in the backseat, propped up on pillows, we drove first into Canton. Of course, we called first, but the phone number Danny had given Susannah was bogus. That is to say, both times we dialed we reached the residence of one of Canton’s rabbis.

“Rabbi Kalmanson here,” a cheery voice answered.

“Oh, sorry, I must have made a mistake. I’ll make my call over.”

“Yes, steak can be kosher. Provided it comes from a kosher animal, of course.”

“Pardon me? I was trying to reach the residence of Daniel Hem, in Canton.”

“Yes, the cantor’s job is still open. Do you wish to audition?”

“How much does it pay?” I asked. I am a firm believer in exploring all opportunities.

“No, I don’t have time to audition you today. How about tomorrow? Say around five?”

“That’ll be fine,” I said, and then hung up before he could accuse me of asking for wine.

We found Danny’s condominium easily enough, thanks to my sister’s slack morals. No one answered the door, however, and the silver Mercedes was nowhere to be seen. At Susannah’s insistence I practically tackled an elderly resident as she came out of the adjoining condo, but she had seen neither Danny Hem nor his car since the day before.

Jacques, the chef at Chez Normandy, was only a little more helpful. Two men were driving the car away just as he arrived at work. No, neither of them was Danny. Both men appeared to be wearing dark clothes, and possibly dark hats. That was all he could recall. Even a five-dollar bill couldn’t jump-start his memory.

I thanked Jacques nonetheless, adding that the filet mignon the night before had been just a little tough. “Ah, the woman who ordered escargots!”

“For my sister,” I said, pointing at Susannah.

He lunged for Susannah, beaming. She accepted his first hug stoically. His second hug she greeted with wanton enthusiasm, so I tactfully separated them. “That’s all, Jacques. We’re in a bit of a hurry now.”

Tears welled up in his Gallic eyes. “She is my first customer ever to order escargots!”

“It was me, dear, remember? Anyway, if no one ever orders them, how did you happen to have some on hand?”

He threw up his hands impatiently, an appropriate response to my stupidity. “Mon Dieu! They were my pets, of course! I kept them in a terrarium in the kitchen window. The generations before them had all died of old age, but these—”

“I think I’m going to be sick again,” Susannah said, as I sportingly spirited her away.

Arnold Ledbetter was not surprised that Danny couldn’t be found. “I told you before, Miss Yoder, that Mr. Hem has taken the entire week off. For all I know, he could be in Timbuktu.”

“Is that in Pennsylvania?” Susannah asked.

“Hardly, dear,” I said kindly.

Susannah was undeterred. “Well, wherever it is, maybe Danny got snowed in there and left a message for me on his office machine.”

To his credit, Arnold Ledbetter snickered softly. “Well, there aren’t any messages to that effect on his machine now. I just checked it. Miss Entwhistle, I have absolutely no idea where he is—no, wait. One day last week, when I was passing by his office, I thought I heard him ordering two plane tickets for Aruba.”

“Aruba!” I said.

Susannah giggled giddily. “Isn’t that romantic?”

“But I wouldn’t even have been there to see the wedding! That is really unfair of you, Susannah!”

Okay, so I probably would have refused to go, no matter the location, but a gal has a right to be invited to her sister’s wedding. Especially if it’s in the Caribbean.

“I didn’t think you cared,” Susannah had the nerve to say. “Anyway, when I told you earlier that we had planned to elope, you didn’t get all in a huff. Why the sudden change of heart?”

“Because eloping to Canton and eloping to Aruba are not the same thing.”

Susannah smiled sweetly. “I would have sent you a postcard. You know, one of some muscular guy sitting alone on a beach. Wish you were here. That kind of thing.”

I confess that the sticky-sweet sentiment just expressed swept me away and I forgave her on the spot. After all, Susannah has never once given me as much as a birthday card. Too moved for words, I patted her arm affectionately.

Arnold Ledbetter peered up at us through his half-moon glasses. “Ladies, I’d like to stand here and chat, but I don’t have all afternoon.”

I shook myself loose from my reverie. “We understand,” I said.

“Well, I don’t,” Susannah said. “Danny said we were eloping this morning, and he would have been there unless—”

“Unless what, dear?”

“Unless he meant tomorrow morning?” Arnold suggested.

Susannah frowned. “Well, maybe. I do tend to get my days mixed up.”

“She’s not really used to days,” I explained.

“Then I’m sure that’s the reason for the mix-up,” Arnold said, and without further ado he dismissed us by strolling off down the hall.

Just to be on the safe side, I persuaded Susannah to stop in at the sheriff’s office and file a missing-person report. Much to my horror, the secretary had already gone home for the day, leaving only Marvin to deal with. A root canal would have been more fun.

“No can do,” Marvin said before I even finished telling him what I wanted.

“Why not?”

“The guy has to be missing forty-eight hours, that’s why. Anyway, what does his missing have to do with you? You the next of kin?”

“Certainly not!”

“I am,” Susannah said. “I mean, I would have been if he wasn’t missing. Isn’t that the same?”

Marvin stared at Susannah. It was the car headlights staring at the deer. “You love this guy?”

The deer stared back. “Would that make a difference?”

The man with the deer-sized ears smiled. “Maybe, maybe not.”

“Then let’s say I don’t love him.” A crude but observant person might have noticed that Susannah’s bottom twitched then, and her posture improved considerably.

Marvin’s ears twitched in response to Susannah’s bottom. “Then let’s say it does make a difference.”

“How big of a difference?” Susannah tottered suggestively forward on her clogs.

“Well, maybe I’ll just have to let you wait and see.” He winked with his left eye, which for some strange reason caused his right ear to wiggle.

“This is disgusting,” I said to both of them. “Even animals are more discreet.”

Neither of them heard me.

I tugged at a swirl that was Susannah’s sleeve. “What about Danny Hem? I thought you were engaged to him.”

“Who?”

“Danny Hem,” I almost shouted. “Mr. Big Bucks. Drives around in a silver Mercedes, not some dilapidated county vehicle. He was going to make you a rich woman this morning, or have you forgotten?”

“What?”

“Rich,” I said. “Lots of money—dough, moola, greenbacks, dinero.”

Susannah merely grunted and continued to totter closer to Marvin, who was twitching eagerly closer to her. It was like watching a pair of puppets propelled by internal magnets.

I couldn’t believe my eyes and ears. “We have a missing person here,” I reminded them. “There are more important things in life than hormones, you know.”

“Name one,” they said in unison.

“God,” I said. “Good health. Friends.”

But it was too late. The pathetic puppets had begun to paw each other.

I thought I would puke.

Take it from me, nothing settles the stomach like a good hot meal. Fortunately Pauline’s Pancake House lives up to its name, and the same menu is used all day long.

“Jumbo tall stack, real butter, double order of bacon, and three smoked sausages,” I said pleasantly.

There was a staccato burst of gum popping and then a moment of silence. “I see you’re hanging around town. You’re fixing to move in on my territory, aren’t you, hon?”

I smiled politely at Pauline. The poor dear had undoubtedly been on her feet all day. Even the beehive atop her head had wilted and was slouched over to one side. If given the chance I would clue her in on industrial-strength bobby pins.

“Western Pennsylvania’s been snowed in, dear. I’ll make tracks as soon as the roads clear. I promise.”

I have yet to hear a diesel truck backfire louder than Pauline’s gum. “Shoot it to me straight, hon. You’ve got your eye on the old Pork and Cork on Taylorsville Road, don’tcha?”

I shook my head.

“No use lying to me, hon. I’ve seen that hungry look before.” She plopped herself down on the red vinyl seat across from me. “But it ain’t gonna work out for you, and I’ll tell you why. It ain’t gonna work out for the same reason it didn’t work out for Buzzy Reaves—he used to own the Pork and Cork. And here’s why.” She leaned halfway across my table, as if to divulge a secret. “Folks don’t want to go out that far from town to eat. Just as soon eat in Canton if they gotta go that far. Only the Aymish live out that far, and they don’t eat our food, you know.”

“Is that a fact?”

“God’s honest truth. And if it’s Aymish food you want to serve to the tourists, you’re too late. Place called the Dutch Kettle, just over the county line and across the interstate, packs them in by the busload.”

“Competition is the backbone of a thriving economy,” I said, just to tease her.

Pauline was not easily amused. “You’re liable to get your butt stomped if you try that here. A woman by the name of Jenny Wilson owns the Dutch Kettle, and I hear tell she’s one mean woman.”

“You don’t say.”

She nodded, the gum popping in rhythm. “So give it up, hon. Go back to Pennsylvania where you came from. And don’t even think about opening up a restaurant within city limits. This here’s a one-restaurant town.”

I tried to flash her my friendliest smile. Unfortunately this attempt has at times frightened infants and on several occasions motivated people to offer me aspirin.

“Pauline, dear, I own a very successful bed-and-breakfast back in Hernia, Pennsylvania. It takes up all my time, and it supplies me with all the money I care to spend. As soon as the roads clear back home, I’m out of here. In the meantime, I’d like my supper.”

The popping paused. “You ain’t just pulling my strings, hon?”

“Negative, dear. So relax, before you get them tied in a knot.”

“Seen you coming out of Marv’s office a minute ago,” she said, sounding calmer. “What’s up?”

I grimaced involuntarily. “Bad choice of words, dear. I went in there with my sister to report a missing person.”

“Anyone I know?”

“Yes. Danny Hem.”

There was a gasp and the gum came flying at me. However, in a remarkable display of hand-and-eye coordination Pauline caught the errant wad and popped it back in.

“You mean Danny Hem of Daisybell Dairies?”

“That’s the one. Apparently he and my sister, Susannah, were going to elope this morning, but he never kept the date. We checked, and he’s not at home. He’d taken the entire week off from work, but we checked there anyway to see if there were any messages. There weren’t. Oh, and his car is missing too.”

“Aruba?”

“What?”

“Did he say he was taking your sister to Aruba?”

“Yes. How did you know?”

I waited patiently for Pauline to stop laughing. “Well?”

“That slime bucket never changes. When he first blew into town—after his uncle died and left him the business—he sweet-talked me into eloping too. And guess where we were going to honeymoon?”

“Not Timbuktu?”

“Aruba, imagine that! I’d say at least five Farmersburg gals, and who knows how many in Canton, have been promised Aruba, and not gotten as much as a rutabaga.” She found her own joke immensely funny and had to catch the gum several times before she calmed down enough for it to stay put.

“So Susannah was just used?”

“Like this gum.” Pauline plucked the offending wad from her mouth and stuck it firmly to the underside of my table. “Now, was that two orders of bacon and one of sausage, or the other way around?”

“Two bacon, one sausage. Leave a little play in the bacon. I don’t like it so crisp that it cracks. And be sure the sausages are evenly browned.”

I would like to say that Pauline was a professional and my order arrived as dictated. Unfortunately the bacon shattered on impact, and as for the sausages, the limp pink links that lolled across my plate reminded me of something I once read about in Susannah’s diary.