Murder in Plain Sight (2010) Page 14
“You didn’t.” But the fact that he snapped the words gave him away.
“Maybe we’d better stick to business, since everything else seems to lead to an argument.”
He darted a look at her. “Isn’t that what lawyers do best? Argue?”
“No. At least, not me. But if you intend to pick on me because I’m an attorney, don’t bother with the lawyer jokes. Believe me, I’ve heard them all.”
He grinned, the tension between them collapsing like a spent balloon. “Too bad.”
“Isn’t it, though? Anyway, maybe you’d better tell me about this Amish teen party we’re headed for.”
He slowed down, watching for the turnoff. “It’s not exactly a teen party—or at least, not what you’d think of in those terms. This is a singing, held under parental supervision to some extent. If you’re picturing a mob of drunken Amish kids, get that image out of your head.”
“A singing. You mean, actual singing?”
He grinned. “Actual singing, although to be fair, most of the kids have other things on their minds. Each other, for instance.” He flipped the turn signal and made a right into a farm lane, following a string of Amish buggies. “Some probably have boom boxes in their buggies and maybe a few cans of beer tucked away, but for the most part, this will be pretty clean.”
“Thomas didn’t link up with Cherry at a party like this, then.”
“Not a chance.” He frowned. “There are always kids who push the boundaries. Most of them have a few English friends and get invited to wilder parties. That must be where he ran into Cherry.”
“So we need to find someone who knows about that, who maybe even went with him.”
“That’s right.” He pulled the truck to a stop under a drooping willow tree. All around them kids in Amish dress streamed toward the barn, glowing with light from a dozen lanterns. “The bishop told them to talk to us. We’ll just have to hope they take that seriously.”
He slid out, and she joined him before he could go around and open her door. He’d told her to dress casually, and he’d been relieved to see that she wore khaki slacks and a turquoise knit top instead of her usual suit. As she joined him, she pulled on a tan windbreaker.
“Ready?” He lifted an eyebrow at her.
She nodded. “Where do we start?”
“Let’s see if we can find Jacob Stoltzfus. He’s Thomas’s best friend. If anyone knows something, it will be Jacob.”
He touched her arm to guide her onto the gravel lane leading toward the barn. He’d agreed that they ought to stick to business. But somehow it seemed natural to let his fingers slide down her sleeve and entwine with hers, just as it seemed natural for her to return the pressure of his hand.
This wasn’t withdrawing from the feelings between them, he reminded himself. But at the moment, he didn’t seem to care.
CHAPTER TWELVE
THE ODDITY OF THE scene hit Jessica forcibly as she walked down the lane with Trey. All around them were young people in sober Amish dress, all moving in the same direction. If it had not been for the noise, she’d have found it almost frightening.
But the noise—that was familiar. It was like being in a crowd of kids on their way to a high-school football game. They chattered, they called out to friends, they laughed and teased each other just like any group of teens.
Trey took her arm protectively when she stumbled over a rough patch in the lane. “Easy. You don’t want to take a header on the gravel.”
“I’m not used to the dark.” She tilted her head back. “You never see the stars like this in the city.”
“One of the benefits of doing without electric light,” he said. “You can actually see the sky.
“You’ll be able to see better now.” They neared the barn, and Trey loosened his grip. “Tiki torches. I’ll bet that’s not something you associate with the Amish.”
“I have to confess, it never crossed my mind.”
Several torches lit the scene, helped by the glow of a bonfire. A group of kids played volleyball at one side of the barn, although it must be getting hard to see the ball. Others clustered around a table spread with chips, dip, nachos, brownies, even pizza.
Apparently Amish teens liked their junk food just as much as any other kids did. Boys nudged each other in greeting, girls giggled, heads together, glancing at the boys out of the corners of their eyes.
“Looks like any teen party anywhere, other than the clothes.”
He nodded, scanning the crowd. “They’ll go into the barn to start the singing before long. We should try to catch Jacob first.”
“Trey. Bishop Amos told us you would come by tonight.” The man who approached was no teenager—his beard nearly touched his chest. “Not that you wouldn’t have been welcome, even without the bishop’s blessing.”
Trey shook hands, grinning. “Denke, Jonas. Jessica, this is Jonas Miller, our host. It’s hard to believe his little Becky is old enough for rumspringa already.”
“Ach, the years pass quickly.” Jonas turned to her, eyes curious. “This would be Ms. Langdon, ja?”
“Jessica,” she said. “Thank you for helping us.”
He inclined his head, the movement grave. “The bishop has told the young people to speak with you. I think they will all cooperate.”
She met his gaze. “Does that mean some are opposed to what I’m doing?”
“There are those…” He paused. “All of us dislike the publicity, but most, I hope, know that you are doing what must be done to protect Thomas.” He glanced at Trey. “Trey is an old friend, ain’t so? You’ll stay for the singing and the food, ja?”
“Sounds good,” Trey said. “Let’s see how it goes. We’d like to have a word with Jacob Stoltzfus first, if he’s here.”
Jonas nodded. He walked to the volleyball court and tapped one of the players on the shoulder.
The boy turned, and Jessica saw his Adam’s apple bob and his eyes widen as he looked at them. She half expected him to dart away, but instead he came toward them.
Brown eyes in a round face surveyed them with some anxiety. Like Thomas, he looked younger than she knew he must be. He seemed stricken with speechlessness.
“We just want to talk for a minute,” Trey said, his tone reassuring. “This is Jessica Langdon. She’s Thomas’s lawyer.”
“Ja. I…I know.” He gulped.
She hadn’t imagined she was that intimidating. “You want to help Thomas, don’t you, Jacob?”
He nodded.
“You can help him by telling me what you know. His father said he was going to meet you that night. Is that right?” She’d started to say the night Cherry was killed, but she thought that might spook him entirely. And he surely knew what night she meant.
He glanced around, as if searching for a way to escape. “Ja,” he whispered.
“Were you going to the party together?”
He ducked his head in a nod. “Ja.”
This was an uphill battle. “How did you hear about the party?”
“Some English kid told Thomas about it. Said we could come.”
“What English kid?” Trey said quickly.
He shrugged. “Thomas didn’t say.”
She couldn’t be sure whether he knew or not. She glanced at Trey, his expression saying that he thought just what she did. The invitation could have been set up between Thomas and Cherry.
“Did Thomas talk about seeing Cherry there?” She pressed on, trying not to let discouragement show.
“No.”
Clearly she wasn’t going to get anywhere with this boy. Maybe Jacob would open up to someone, but not to her. She made a final try. “Is there anyone else here who was at that party?”
For the first time, some animation came into the boy’s face. “Ja. Peggy. Peggy Byler was there. Shall I get her for you?”
“Tell her we’d like to talk with her.”
Jacob spurted off almost before she’d finished speaking. She glanced at Trey. “Byler. She’s surely n
ot related to the police chief?”
“Everybody is related around here, if you go back far enough, especially if they have a German name.”
“I can’t tell if Jacob doesn’t know anything or was stonewalling a nosy adult.”
“I don’t think it’s that. Maybe just a little shy of talking to a woman lawyer.” Trey’s voice warmed. “You’ll have better luck with Peggy. She works at the bakery in town, so she’s in contact with English all the time.”
When Jacob came back with the young woman, Jessica saw that he was right. Peggy had a pert smile and a confident manner that seemed to say she could fend for herself.
“You understand what we want, Peggy,” she said, once the introductions were made. “Anything you know about Thomas’s relationship with Cherry Wilson, anything you saw or heard that night at the party.”
Peggy nodded. “The first part’s easy,” she said. “He didn’t have a relationship with her at all. In his dreams, maybe. Oh, she smiled at him sometimes, teased him a little bit, but she did that with all the boys. I think she liked to see them get all ferhoodled and embarrassed-like.”
“It sounds as if you didn’t like her much.”
She got a guarded look for that. “I didn’t know her. She wasn’t interested in being friends with girls.”
“So that night—did she get Thomas um…ferhoodled?” Interesting word, that.
“Ja.” Peggy frowned. “It seemed like she was paying a lot of attention to Thomas. She kept giving him drinks.”
“Was he drunk?”
“Getting there, I think.”
“Nobody interfered?” Trey asked.
“Jacob and I tried, but Thomas wouldn’t pay us any mind. He was all wrapped up in Cherry.” She shrugged, but there was an edge of hurt in her voice, making Jessica wonder what her feelings were for Thomas. “So we figured he was old enough to know what he was getting into.”
“Did you talk to him again that evening? See him?”
“Not talk to him, no.” Peggy’s face lost some of its confidence, making her look younger. “I saw him going outside. Staggering so he could hardly walk. I started after him, thinking he needed help. But when I got to the door, I saw that Cherry was with him. Had her arm around him, practically dragging him to her car. So I figured he didn’t need my help.” She looked suddenly lost. “I should have done something, shouldn’t I?”
Her expression went straight to Jessica’s heart. “I don’t know what you could have done then, Peggy. But you can do something now. We might want you to testify at the trial. Can you do that?” She had second thoughts, not sure if an Amish person was permitted to do such a thing.
“Ja, I will,” Peggy said instantly. “Anything for Thomas. And Bishop Amos says if we are asked, we must obey.”
“Good.” She clasped the girl’s hand. “Thank you, Peggy.”
“A little progress,” Trey said after Peggy rejoined her friends.
She nodded, feeling the smallest ray of optimism. “From what she said, Thomas was already pretty far under the influence when he left the party. That makes it less likely he’d be able to stage an attack.”
“Yes.” Trey frowned. “A lot depends on when he was given the drug. What does your expert say?”
“We don’t have an answer from him yet. Leo’s going to call him again tomorrow.”
“If you get…” Trey’s voice trailed off as there was a movement of the kids around them.
The girls had formed a line and headed into the barn, falling silent as they went through the door. The boys shuffled around, seemingly reluctant to follow, but then a few brave souls started after them.
“The singing is about to begin.” Trey held out his hand. “Want to stay for a while?”
“That sounds good.” Besides, she told her skeptical side, she might come across someone else who knew something if she stayed. She took his hand and they walked into the barn together.
Inside, the girls sat on benches along one side of a long row of tables. The boys, shuffling and nudging one another, jockeyed for position opposite them.
Jonas Miller, surveying the proceedings from a post near the door, turned to give them a welcoming smile. “Komm, wilcom. The singing will begin in a moment.” His eyes twinkled. “As soon as someone is brave enough to start.”
He moved off in answer to a question from someone, and Trey tugged at her hand. “I’ll show you the best place to watch.”
He led her to a sturdy wooden ladder—one of several that led up to the loft that surrounded the barn floor. “Up you go.”
She looked at it doubtfully. “You first.”
“It’s perfectly safe.” He climbed up quickly then held out his hand to her, smiling, his face intriguing from the inverted angle. “Come on.”
Glad she’d worn slacks and sneakers, Jessica clambered up the ladder and onto the floor of the loft.
“Over here.” Trey lowered his voice as it grew quieter below them. He led her between bales of hay to a spot about midway along then sat on the edge of the loft and drew her down next to him.
She sat cross-legged. Stacks of hay bales surrounded them, forming a little alcove in which they could sit overlooking the scene below without being too noticeable. The only light was from lanterns, and the loft behind them was dark. The barn grew silent. How could that number of teenagers possibly be so quiet?
A boy’s voice lifted in the first notes of a song. Immediately the others joined in, their pure young voices rising in unison, unaccompanied. Jessica’s breath caught. It was beautiful. Bare and untrained, the voices nevertheless touched her heart, even though she didn’t understand a word they sang.
“They’ll sing familiar church songs.” Trey’s lips were so close to her ear that his breath ruffled her hair. “At least, familiar to them. Later, they’ll probably branch out into some old folk tunes. Some congregations don’t allow that, but Bishop Amos doesn’t mind.”
She nodded, caught in the web of the music and his closeness. Inappropriate, the little voice at the back of her mind commented, but she didn’t seem to care.
The voices continued, moving easily from one song to another as someone started each one, seemingly at random. She imagined the notes of music rising to the roof of the barn and beyond, to the silent stars.
Jessica wasn’t sure how long they sat motionless, entranced by the music, but at last movement below caught her attention. Jonas Miller and a woman who was probably his wife carried jugs of what looked like cider and pitchers of water to a table against the wall.
As if that was a signal, no one started a new song. Instead, the young people got up, stretching, talking, some of them pairing off as they headed to the table for a drink.
“Is it over?” She could hear the reluctance in her voice. She didn’t want it to end.
“Just recess for a drink.” Trey stood, stooping under a slanting beam. “Stay put. I’ll go down and get us something.”
She tilted her head back to look up at him. “How do you propose to carry glasses up the ladder?”
“Don’t underestimate me,” he said, smiling. He was gone before she could scramble to her feet and follow him.
She watched his long, lithe figure move easily down the ladder. No, she wasn’t making the mistake of underestimating Trey, not on any count. He was too sure of himself and his place in the world for that, to say nothing of having far too much influence on her feelings.
She shouldn’t let that happen. She had to keep in mind that their goals weren’t necessarily the same, just because they coincided for the moment.
She watched the young people milling around below her. This was obviously the Amish equivalent of date night…a time for young people to pair off, to move toward a relationship that, for them, would end in marriage and family and a continuation of their culture.
Simplistic, she supposed. Old-fashioned. But for a moment she was aware of the appeal. It seemed both simpler and surer than the courtship rituals of her urban society.
She leaned forward a bit, watching him from her secluded spot. He’d draw any woman’s eye. So why was he still unmarried, still living at home with his mother? He certainly wasn’t a mama’s boy, by anyone’s definition.
Another sound, as if something rustled in the loose hay that had filtered from the bales. An animal? She looked around, apprehension rising, but there was nothing to be seen.
Disturbed now from the fascination that had held her in place, she put her hand out to the nearest beam and started to rise. She’d go help Trey with that cider.
There was a sense of movement behind her. She turned, hand out for balance, and her breath caught in her throat. The stack of hay bales tumbled toward her.
No time to cry out, no time to grab anything. A blow to her shoulder threw her toward the edge. She flailed with her hand, catching hold of the upright beam, but her grip was sliding…
For an instant she hung over the edge, aware of cries below her, rushing feet. Then her grip failed, and she plummeted, helpless, toward the floor below.
TREY RUSHED FORWARD, impeded by all the others who hurried to help. None of them could reach Jessica before she hit the floor. Heart pounding, he dropped to his knees beside the crumpled figure.
“Jess…”
Jonas caught his hand when he would have reached for her. “Careful.”
He tried to wrench away, but Jonas’s grip turned to iron.
“Your cell phone, Trey. We must call the rescue squad.”
He was right, of course. Trey’s mind seemed to have stopped working. He pulled the phone from his pocket, flipped it open, handed it to Jonas.
Sarah, Jonas’s wife, bent over Jessica. Her hands moved, gentle and competent, over the limp form, and she talked softly all the while, as if Jessica would be comforted by her voice.
Trey sucked in a breath. She was unconscious. That had to be bad. He clasped one hand in his, trying to warm it. “Jess, it’s going to be all right.”