I sighed softly, feeling deflated. The fact that she was a lawyer pretty much shot to hell any chance of her slipping up and incriminating herself or an accomplice.
John must have felt the same way I did because he slumped in his chair. “Recently, a woman came forward to the original marshal on the case, Jim Allen. He passed away shortly afterwards, but forwarded the file on to me.”
“Tonya Sanders, right?” Samantha said. When John nodded, she added, “She always thought one of the Amish boys on the building crew killed him.”
“What do you think about her assertion?” John asked.
Toby and I turned back to Samantha. I was impressed with how John changed the course of the conversation so fluidly after the revelation that Buddy’s ex-wife, and prime suspect, was now a lawyer and already knew all about the new allegations.
“A lot of people hated Buddy, including me. I find it hard to believe one of those mild-mannered, quiet young men would have done such a thing. I mean, shooting a man is very different from pounding his head in with the blunt end of an ax.” She said the words with the cool aloofness of an anchorwoman reciting a murder on the evening news. A chill ran up my spine as she stood and walked over to a chest of small drawers in the corner of the room. “I always wondered about this. I know you guys have a picture of it in your file.” She pulled out an envelope and handed it to John. “But nothing ever came of it.”
John opened the envelope and pulled a folded piece of paper from it. He glanced at it and handed it to me.
The words were foreign and scribbled messily on the paper, but I forced them out anyway. “Gott segen eich. What does that mean?”
“I don’t know. I assumed it was Pennsylvania Dutch and I asked some of the local Amish, but no one would give me a straight answer. They’re pretty tight lipped around here, only talking to outsiders when business is involved. They seem to have their own authority system and don’t like outsiders butting into what they assume are internal affairs.” She shook her head.
I snorted and pulled my cellphone from my pocket. “Do you mind if I take a picture? I have someone who will translate this.”
“Go ahead.” She waved her hand.
“Where was this note left originally?” John asked.
“In the driver seat of Buddy’s car. The authorities took photographs, but they completely dismissed the note. I was allowed to gather up his personal belongings—” she shrugged “—and kept the note.” She caught the rise of my brows. “I was the only other kin he had besides his brother, Brent, and he wasn’t interested in the little things.”
I sent the picture and looked up, waiting. “Does Brent live around here?”
“Just a little ways north on Hinton Road. He took over Buddy’s contracting company after the murder, but he wasn’t able to keep it going.”
“Why, what happened?” I glanced at my phone, but there weren’t any new messages.
“With Buddy gone, Isaiah Coblenz expanded his own building business. He provided better work for less money than Brent could pull off.”
“Was he a business threat when Buddy owned it?” I asked, feeling that this part of the story was significant.
Her brow shot up and she chuckled. “I’m sorry. I forgot you didn’t know Buddy. No one dared to outbid him on a job.” Her lips pinched together in a tight smile. “He was one of those guys no one wanted to mess with, if you know what I mean.”
I met her gaze. “Yeah, I know the type.” I took a breath, processing the information.
Even though I felt compelled to pull my notebook from my back pocket, I didn’t. John was already scribbling notes on his. Toby sat quietly to the side, his hat on his lap, and his eyes darting everywhere. I had to admit, I sometimes forgot he was even there, but I sure did appreciate his alertness.
My gut told me that Samantha wasn’t being entirely honest with us. She said all the right things in just the right way. It was as though she’d prepared for this moment for a long time. Jim Allen probably came up against the same wall, even though the woman wasn’t a lawyer at the time.
“So the Amish were too intimidated by Buddy to run their businesses properly, but they didn’t have such qualms with the brother?” I said.
“That’s right. Oh, and by the way, Tonya Sanders is Brent’s long-time girlfriend. They’ve been an item for over twenty years and have three kids together.”
Her words rippled through my mind just as my phone vibrated in my hands. I looked down.
Daniel gave me the translation, followed by a kissy-faced emoji.
I glanced between John and Samantha. “God bless you—that’s what those words mean.”
Samantha made a humming noise and gazed out the window, while John wrote it down.
I rubbed my forehead. This isn’t a good sign at all.
9
“Maybe the note didn’t have anything at all to do with the murder,” Toby suggested.
I took a bite of the noodle-mashed potato concoction and stared at the colorful quilt hanging on the wall in the Amish restaurant. I savored the taste in my mouth as I thought about the handwritten note.
When I swallowed, I looked between John and Toby. John was enjoying a meatloaf and sweet potato dinner while looking through Buddy’s file. Toby had ordered the same entree as me and was focused on eating it.
“It was on Buddy’s seat and it wasn’t crumpled like it would be if someone had sat on it. I think whoever killed Buddy left the note there for a reason,” I said.
John glanced up, meeting my gaze over his reading glasses. “For what purpose, Sheriff?”
I took a sip of my cola. The restaurant was filled mostly with Amish families. A young girl in a lavender dress stared openly at me and I forced myself to smile back and then looked away. Here, we were the oddity.
“Either the note was literal and the person who committed the crime was making a final statement to Buddy or, what I think is more likely, it was a diversion to direct authorities away from the true killer,” I said.
John smiled. “Well done. I think your latter assumption is correct, but why point the finger at the Amish when they’re pacifist people?” He lifted a few papers from the file and waved them in the air. “Jim didn’t get anywhere when he tried to investigate them.”
I studied the map of Lancaster County spread out on the table. “We’re here, in Strasburg, the main tourist hub of the Amish, but see? Samantha’s house is closer to Womelsdorf, a completely different community.”
“Aren’t they all connected?” John scrunched his brows.
I snorted. “That’s what I used to think, but I know better now.” I traced the map with my finger. “There are thousands of Plain people living in this area, but they’re split up into separate church groups. Each group contains between fifteen and twenty-five families. When a church grows too large to accommodate services at family farms, they split up, forming new churches.”
“How does this affect the investigation?” Toby spoke up.
“If Jim was talking to people in Strasburg or New Holland, he wasn’t reaching the Amish who were associated with Buddy. News and gossip spread from church to church, but an Amish family here—” I pointed to a random spot on the map, then slid my finger to another spot “—might have little connection to a family here.” I leaned back. “We need to talk to the Amish in Womelsdorf.”
“I want to interview Brent Prowes, too,” John said.
“Of course, but his girlfriend, Tonya Sanders, might be the better choice to begin with,” I said.
John nodded and began eating his dinner in earnest when my phone vibrated on the table.
“Hey, Todd, what do you have for me?” I answered.
“I ran Brent Prowes and Tonya Sanders’ names. They’re both clean to the point of boring. Only a few speeding tickets came up between the two of them.”
“Okay, thanks. How
’s Blood Rock fairing?”
“Fairly quiet here. Tony Manning stopped by this morning—said he wanted to have a talk with you. I told him you were out of town and he made a rude comment about your work ethics.” Todd grunted.
I rolled my eyes and rubbed my forehead. As if the unique aspects to this criminal investigation weren’t enough, I’d have to deal with Tony when I returned home.
“I hope you reminded him I’m entitled to personal days. He sure took enough of them when he had the job.”
“Yeah, I got into it with him, and so did Bobby. It was like he showed up just to ruin our day.” Todd cleared his throat. “I sure hope you’re heading home soon. I don’t get paid enough to deal with that man’s shit.”
I sighed. “I’ll take care of it on Monday.”
“I managed to pull a picture of Tonya up from an article that ran a year ago in the local newspaper out there. She works at a restaurant called Yoder’s Smorgasbord. Thought it might be useful—I’m sending it now. Be safe, boss,” Todd said, and then hung up.
I put my phone down. “What’s this place called?”
“Yoder’s Smorgasbord, I think,” Toby replied.
Small world.
“Brent and his girlfriend have no previous criminal activity, but supposedly, she used to work here.” I scooped up some more of the delicious potatoes on my fork. “Hard to believe someone who could commit such a brutal crime would go the next fifteen years without acting out again.”
“Buddy’s murderer had a motive and felt justified in his actions. It’s possible that it was a one-time deal,” John said.
I met his gaze. “If someone has the propensity to do that to another person, especially someone they know, they’re capable of doing it again.”
My phone vibrated against the table and I pulled up the new message with the picture Todd had sent. I looked around and searched the restaurant. Many of the servers were young Amish women, but a few were Englishers. I spotted a woman with curly brown hair and glanced back at the photo Todd had sent.
“Interviewing Tonya isn’t going to be too difficult.” I lifted my phone for them to see and then jutted my chin out. They turned in their seats, following the direction of my chin. “The woman over there is Tonya.”
“Well, damn,” Toby said.
John tilted his head. “I echo your sentiments entirely.”
I motioned our server over. Her hair was neatly pinned beneath her cap and the apron she wore over her hunter green dress was pristine white. I wondered about her life. Was she courting a boy she was in love with or was she already married? Since the Amish didn’t wear wedding rings, it was impossible to tell. At least the men began growing their beards when they were hitched, giving an indication of their marital status.
“Are you ready for your check?” she asked.
“That’ll be fine.” I leaned forward. “Is that Tonya Sanders over there?”
She followed my gaze. “Why yes. Would you like to speak with her? I can get her for you.”
“That would be perfect. Thank you.”
I pushed my plate aside and watched as our server spoke to Tonya, then pointed at our table. Tonya nodded and hurried over.
When she reached us, I stood and extended my hand. It occurred to me after the fact that I was stepping on John’s toes by taking the lead with Tonya, but dismissed the thought. It was Todd’s information that gave us the heads up that the woman was in the same room as us.
“I’m Serenity Adams and this is John Ruthers and Toby Bryant. We’re law enforcement. Do you have a minute to speak with us?”
Tonya looked to be in her mid-thirties. She had a blemish-free, round face and the lines at the edges of her green eyes indicated she laughed a lot.
She wiped her hands on her apron. “It’s the end of my shift and I just signed out, so sure—” she shrugged “—I guess so.”
I pulled out the chair beside me and she took it. I looked at John and he got the hint.
“Do you remember Buddy Prowes?” John asked.
“Of course. He was killed out behind Samantha’s house. Who could forget something like that?”
“Did you know him well?” I asked.
She crossed her arms on the table. “I wasn’t sleeping with him if that’s what you’re asking.”
I hid a smile at John’s red face. “No, no, that’s not what I meant,” I stammered.
“I was sleeping with his brother, Brent, and have been until recently. That’s how I knew Buddy.” She dropped her voice. “He wasn’t a very nice man—I didn’t spend any more time with him than was necessary, if you know what I mean.” She nudged me with her elbow and I nodded understanding.
“Recently?” I raised my brows. “Aren’t you and Brent still together?”
“Naw. That’s the beauty of not tying the knot—you can up and leave whenever you want.” Her words swirled around in my mind and I thought of Daniel. I’d been too preoccupied with the case to think about him much lately, but a shiver passed through me.
I glanced at John and he tilted his head, encouraging me to continue. I took a breath. “I’ve been asking myself the same thing about tying the knot.” I flashed my ring for her to see. “If you don’t mind me asking, why did you call it quits?”
Her lips pinched and she made a clucking noise. “We’ve been together nearly eighteen years, have kids, a house and everything, but his heart has always been with another.” She shot me a warning look. “Men don’t forget their first love. The best thing is if they get to experience some time with that woman, get to know her faults, and they fall out of love naturally. When they never have the chance, there’s always that question rattling around in their mind—what if—even though they have a good woman right beside them, who loves them more than the other one ever would have.”
My chest clenched when I saw the hurt in Tonya’s eyes, but her story made me think about David Lapp and his obsession with Naomi Beiler. That obsession had ended with Naomi’s murder.
I took a chance and pressed further. “Was it an Amish girl?”
Tonya’s eyes widened, but she didn’t hesitate to answer. “She’s not a girl anymore—she’s a woman my age.” She glanced over her shoulder. The restaurant was noisy with conversation and the clinking of dishes. After a quick look around, she turned back. “All these years she never married, teasing Brent with the possibility she’d leave the Amish and go English.” Her lip turned up at the corner. “Well, she never left and she’s finally tying the knot next week.”
My brow furrowed. “Isn’t that a good thing for you and Brent?”
“You’d think, but ever since he found out about the wedding, he’s been a different person. I decided it’s better to move on. I just couldn’t take being second fiddle to a daydream anymore.”
I offered a small smile. “Thank you for being honest with us.”
“If you need anything else, I’m working day shift all weekend,” she said, smiling at each of us and standing abruptly.
When she was gone, Toby found his voice. “I don’t see how any of this fits together.”
“Motive,” John answered and met my gaze. “I’d like to talk to this mystery Amish woman, but there’s probably no hope in that, is there?”
Our server appeared with the check and handed it to John.
Before she turned to leave, I reached out and lightly touched her arm. She looked back at me expectantly and I said, “Tonya mentioned the big wedding next week. It must be a relief to her family that she’s finally found the right one after all these years?” I asked, feigning friendship with a woman I’d just learned about.
“Oh, yes, it’s all the talk in the community.” She was bubbly with enthusiasm. “I can’t imagine being single until thirty-four years old—Miriam is so old, but the Coblenzes are known for marrying later, just not that late.” She took a breath.
“Will you be at the wedding? I heard a lot of out-of-towners are coming for it.”
I nodded, spreading my lips. “Yes, hopefully we are—as long as business doesn’t call us away. It’s on…” I trailed off, pretending to search my memory.
“Thursday morning.” She grinned. “I understand. It’s odd to Englishers that we usually have our weddings on Thursday mornings. It’s custom. The service begins at nine o’clock, but since it lasts nearly three hours, we don’t expect our English friends to sit so long. Most of the time, the outsiders arrive at the end of the service and they attend the dinner afterwards.”
A stern-faced woman poked her head out of the kitchen and called out to our server in Pennsylvania Dutch.
“I have to go. I hope to see you at the wedding.”
I stopped her again. “What’s your name?”
“Louise Schwartz.” She smiled and hustled away.
“Very smooth,” Toby said.
I looked away. Louise seemed like a nice girl and I hated playing her. “I’ve learned that young Amish women love to gossip. Their loose lips have helped me on more than one occasion.”
“That’s why we brought you along, Sheriff.” John’s firm nod lifted my spirits a little bit.
But I knew that prying into Amish lives was a murky business, and usually in the end, I discovered very unpleasant things.
10
Morning dew was heavy in the grass and a thin mist rose above the fields we passed by as we bounced up Isaiah Coblenz’s gravel driveway. Cows munched beside the fence and a rooster crowed. It was such a peaceful setting, and yet here we were, investigating a cold case murder.
“Seth Hershberger works for Isaiah Coblenz. Brent Prowes had a crush on Isaiah’s daughter—that’s our connection,” John said.
“I agree, it’s intriguing.” The breeze blowing into the car was warm and damp, and I rolled the window down further. The sun was beginning to shine through gaps in the clouds, promising another scorching day. The furniture shop came into view. A wooden sign hung below the eaves of a barnlike structure. A buggy was parked in front of the entrance. The black horse tied to the hitching rail was pawing at the ground. John began to turn into the space beside the buggy, but I waved him on.