only place you should go is home.”
My aunt shook her head. “Don’t worry so much, Martha. After resting here, I’m feeling much better.”
Martha scowled.
Rachel struggled out of her chair. “I will wrap up the rest of the strudel for you and Angie.”
I inhaled the smell of pastry and fresh cherries. She was assuming that the strudel would make it all the way to my aunt’s home.
Twenty minutes later, when I turned into the bike shop’s parking lot for the second time that day, Aunt Eleanor and I again found the parking lot empty. I told Oliver to stay inside of the car.
Inside the shop, we found Glenn working on the dismantled bike in the front of the shop.
“Hey,” he said as he wiped his hands on a gray rag. “You’re back. Ready to buy a bike?”
I shook my head. “We have one more question about Eric Schmidt.”
The smile fell from his face as he stood. “What’s that?”
“We have an eye witness that can place you and your brother at the barn raising on the day Eric fell,” my aunt said. I hid a smile; she sounded like a cop on television.
“Who do you think you are? A detective?” Glenn asked.
“Just answer the question and we’ll leave,” I said.
Glenn rolled his eyes. “All right. I think I remember being there early. We were waiting to talk to Eric. He was upset about something and wanted to talk to us before the contract was signed. That was the only time we could see him before the meeting.”
“What did he say when you saw him?” I asked.
“The kid never came down from the barn. We waited for twenty minutes. We couldn’t stand around all day. We had a business to run.”
“Did you ask someone to get him?” I asked.
“You mean ask one of the Amish guys glaring at us? Trust me, they didn’t want us there as much as we didn’t want be there, so no, we didn’t ask anyone. We figured that we would talk to him that night. We never thought . . . ” he swallowed. “It never occurred to us that Eric wouldn’t make that meeting.”
Aunt Eleanor gripped her cane. “You have no idea what Eric was going to say.”
Glenn frowned. “It had to be something about the bike shop, but Eric refused to tell us on the phone. He called from his job at the factory and said he was afraid someone would overhear.” He shoved his rag into his hip pocket. “Now, if you aren’t going to buy a bike, I’m going to have to ask you to leave. I have work to do.”
Aunt Eleanor and I rode in silence back to her house. As I parked the SUV beside the ranch home, I asked, “What do you think this all means?”
She gazed out the window with her thin, fragile hands in her lap. “What I’ve always thought it meant since I received Evelyn’s quilt.” She paused. “Eric Schmidt was murdered.”
Chapter Twelve
I tossed and turned all night, thinking about what my aunt said. Was Eric murdered? And who had murdered him? Cooper or Ira? The Dudeks? All of them in a giant conspiracy, maybe? I was in over my head. Maybe I should call that sheriff who had plucked me off the ground in front of the courthouse and let him sort it out. He’d laugh me back to Texas.
On my third morning in Holmes County, Aunt Eleanor was up before the sun. It was a relief to see her moving around the kitchen, even if her steps were halted. Oliver sat at her feet next to the propane-powered stove, watching intently as she flipped a piece of bacon in a cast iron skillet.
“Are you feeling better today?” I asked.
“
Ya
, but it will be
gut
to have a day of rest at home. I may have overdone it yesterday.
Gott
reminds me that I don’t have the strength I once did.”
“You need to rest more.” I bit my lip. I wanted to ask my aunt to move to Texas. I could take care of her there. I knew she would never go. She’d lived her whole life in Holmes County and most of it as an Amish woman. At her age, moving to a big city like Dallas, especially my highrise apartment downtown, would be too much for her. And she
My aunt shook her head. “Don’t worry so much, Martha. After resting here, I’m feeling much better.”
Martha scowled.
Rachel struggled out of her chair. “I will wrap up the rest of the strudel for you and Angie.”
I inhaled the smell of pastry and fresh cherries. She was assuming that the strudel would make it all the way to my aunt’s home.
Twenty minutes later, when I turned into the bike shop’s parking lot for the second time that day, Aunt Eleanor and I again found the parking lot empty. I told Oliver to stay inside of the car.
Inside the shop, we found Glenn working on the dismantled bike in the front of the shop.
“Hey,” he said as he wiped his hands on a gray rag. “You’re back. Ready to buy a bike?”
I shook my head. “We have one more question about Eric Schmidt.”
The smile fell from his face as he stood. “What’s that?”
“We have an eye witness that can place you and your brother at the barn raising on the day Eric fell,” my aunt said. I hid a smile; she sounded like a cop on television.
“Who do you think you are? A detective?” Glenn asked.
“Just answer the question and we’ll leave,” I said.
Glenn rolled his eyes. “All right. I think I remember being there early. We were waiting to talk to Eric. He was upset about something and wanted to talk to us before the contract was signed. That was the only time we could see him before the meeting.”
“What did he say when you saw him?” I asked.
“The kid never came down from the barn. We waited for twenty minutes. We couldn’t stand around all day. We had a business to run.”
“Did you ask someone to get him?” I asked.
“You mean ask one of the Amish guys glaring at us? Trust me, they didn’t want us there as much as we didn’t want be there, so no, we didn’t ask anyone. We figured that we would talk to him that night. We never thought . . . ” he swallowed. “It never occurred to us that Eric wouldn’t make that meeting.”
Aunt Eleanor gripped her cane. “You have no idea what Eric was going to say.”
Glenn frowned. “It had to be something about the bike shop, but Eric refused to tell us on the phone. He called from his job at the factory and said he was afraid someone would overhear.” He shoved his rag into his hip pocket. “Now, if you aren’t going to buy a bike, I’m going to have to ask you to leave. I have work to do.”
Aunt Eleanor and I rode in silence back to her house. As I parked the SUV beside the ranch home, I asked, “What do you think this all means?”
She gazed out the window with her thin, fragile hands in her lap. “What I’ve always thought it meant since I received Evelyn’s quilt.” She paused. “Eric Schmidt was murdered.”
Chapter Twelve
I tossed and turned all night, thinking about what my aunt said. Was Eric murdered? And who had murdered him? Cooper or Ira? The Dudeks? All of them in a giant conspiracy, maybe? I was in over my head. Maybe I should call that sheriff who had plucked me off the ground in front of the courthouse and let him sort it out. He’d laugh me back to Texas.
On my third morning in Holmes County, Aunt Eleanor was up before the sun. It was a relief to see her moving around the kitchen, even if her steps were halted. Oliver sat at her feet next to the propane-powered stove, watching intently as she flipped a piece of bacon in a cast iron skillet.
“Are you feeling better today?” I asked.
“
Ya
, but it will be
gut
to have a day of rest at home. I may have overdone it yesterday.
Gott
reminds me that I don’t have the strength I once did.”
“You need to rest more.” I bit my lip. I wanted to ask my aunt to move to Texas. I could take care of her there. I knew she would never go. She’d lived her whole life in Holmes County and most of it as an Amish woman. At her age, moving to a big city like Dallas, especially my highrise apartment downtown, would be too much for her. And she
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