A Perfect Square

Chapter 7




CALLIE’S LAST VIEW OF THE CRIME SCENE was from the front of Melinda’s buggy. As they rumbled down the lane, she leaned back against the leather seat and turned to study the woman she was growing to think of as her younger sister. Smaller, with glasses and honey-brown hair that peeked out from her kapp, Melinda’s size was in direct contrast to her emotional strength. The mother of three children, one of whom was handicapped, Melinda was probably the strongest person Callie knew.

“Thank you for coming to fetch me.”

“Gern gschehne.”

“How did you know I needed a ride?”

“Jonas mentioned to Esther’s schweschder that you arrived with Trent. She told my bruder, while he was at my mamm’s house, who told me when I stopped by. I figured Trent wouldn’t be ready to leave anytime soon.”

“The Amish grapevine.”

“Something like that.”

“Trent was still taking pictures. Honestly, how many photos can you take of a dead girl? It’s a bit morbid.” Callie glanced back at her dog, who was now sitting in the buggy’s backseat, trying to look out the small window. “I wouldn’t leave if it weren’t for Max. I believe he’s getting hungry.”

“Of course you wouldn’t.” Melinda reached across and patted Callie’s hand before covering her mouth to trap the giggle that threatened to escape.

“What can you possibly find funny at a time like this?”

“I’m sorry. It’s just that I’ve never thought of you as plain before.”

“Seriously? The clothes? You’re going to focus on the clothes when it looks as if Shane might handcuff Reuben at any moment?”

“Oh, come now, Callie. You don’t actually think Shane will arrest Reuben, do you?”

“From what I could tell — not that I was eavesdropping — they were able to establish an approximate time of death to within twenty-four hours. Tobias has a strong alibi, which Shane was able to immediately confirm.”

“Tobias had been working and sleeping at the feed store.”

“Yes, and there were plenty of witnesses to support that, but Reuben — “

Melinda maneuvered her buggy onto the two-lane road and allowed the horse to pick up speed as they headed back toward town. “Reuben rarely leaves the farm.”

“I don’t know what I think, but Shane was not happy about the way Reuben refused to answer questions.”

“It’s Reuben’s way. You know that from Stakehorn’s murder earlier this year.”

Callie cornered herself in the buggy and studied Melinda. It might be Melinda’s size that brought out Callie’s protective instincts. Of the three closest friends she’d made since coming to Shipshe — Deborah, Esther, and Melinda — Melinda was the one who seemed to need looking out for, but in reality, there was a lot of courage and grace in the little person sitting next to her. Callie had learned that firsthand in the last five months.

Watching Melinda with her children, especially with her son Aaron, had convinced Callie that here was a woman who would fight whatever battles necessary for her family or friends. Or as Callie’s Aunt Daisy would have said, “Tough stuff comes in small packages.”

“Now you’re laughing,” Melinda said. “Or at least smiling.”

“Just remembering something Aunt Daisy used to say. I’ll tell you later. Back to Reuben. What did you mean about Stakehorn’s murder and Reuben keeping his mouth closed?”

“Well, I thought it was you who had tried to talk to him, but I suppose it could have been Deborah.” Melinda pulled up on the reins as a Mustang convertible sped past them on the road. Max barked at the car once, then settled down on the seat. “It isn’t that Reuben held anything back during the investigation, though I’ll admit he’s not comfortable speaking with Englischers.”

She threw Callie a glance, her gaze traveling from the hem of Callie’s long dress to the top of her dark brown hair, a smile splitting her face. “No offense,” she added. “He wouldn’t be rude or anything. Reuben’s not comfortable when he’s off the farm, and he certainly doesn’t know how to act outside of plain company.”

“Is he more like the Old Order Amish? I’ve read a little about them. They’re stricter, right?”

“Ya, but I’m not sure that describes Reuben well. He fits in with our beliefs here in Shipshe. It isn’t that he thinks the kinner shouldn’t have bicycles or that phone shacks are bad for the community. It’s more like he personally belongs to an earlier generation. My mamm would say that he was born old.”

Callie ran her hand through her hair. She knew what that felt like. Some days she was sure she woke up years older than when she’d gone to sleep. When she watched television, she felt like she might very well be in the wrong decade, as she was often confused, lost, or plain repulsed by what she saw. Other days she still felt like a child. So it wasn’t that she always felt old exactly, only out of sync at times. “But he would speak up if he knew something, right?”

“I don’t know,” Melinda confessed, her face growing more serious. “The older people, they believe we should handle things within our community. That’s what we have bishops for.”

“But there are laws,” Callie said.

“Ya, you’re right.”

“Certainly Reuben would see that too, especially for something like a homicide or, worst case, murder.”

“Such things aren’t always cut and dried though. Remember what happened to Esther’s husband? The Englisch laws said that the boys who caused his death committed murder, but the Amish bishops considered it an accident. Our laws handled it differently.” Melinda slowed as the front of Daisy’s Quilt Shop came into view.

“Esther told me that was why she tangled so much with Shane,” Callie agreed. “She explained that it’s the Amish way to forgive. But this is different, Melinda. This is murder.”

“Maybe …”

“You don’t think she fell, hit her head, and landed in the pond, do you?”

Melinda glanced sideways. “I didn’t notice any boulders or large rocks nearby, but you and Deborah are the detectives of the group.”

They both grew silent as Melinda pulled the buggy to a stop in the parking lot of the quilt shop.

Callie looked up and felt a little thrill at seeing her aunt’s name on the marquee: Daisy’s Quilt Shop. Three small words that provided a connection to the family she no longer had. And yes, there was also the personal pride she had in the tidy little shop. She wasn’t afraid to admit that any longer. She’d worked hard the last five months.

Neat raspberry-colored awnings shaded sparkling, clean windows. Two ladies stood on well-swept sidewalks admiring her pretty fall displays. Autumn flowers bloomed in the beds lining the property.

“Looks gut,” Melinda said, following Callie’s thoughts.

“Ya. A lot better than the first time I saw it.” Callie leaned over and hugged Melinda. “Do you have a minute to come in for tea?”

“No. The boys will be home soon, and I wanted to sew a bit before then. We’re working on that new diamond pattern.”

“Bring it by when you have a chance, would you? I’m dying to see how it’s coming along.”

Melinda’s eyes sparkled as she snagged Callie’s hand before she stepped away from the buggy. “Do me a favor?”

“Of course.”

“Go up to your apartment and change before anyone else sees you. It’s unsettling enough having a possible murder in the area. No one needs the added discomfort of seeing you in plain clothes.”

Max barked once.

Callie shook her head but couldn’t help smiling as she moved toward the shop. Melinda’s ribbing helped ease some of her tension. That and a few hours on the job would put everything right. Surely it would, because back at the pond, she’d had the uncomfortable feeling they were all in for another long ride.

In fact, she’d had the distinct thought, standing beside Esther, that this time could be worse than the last.

But how was that even possible?

Before she could dwell on the possibilities, she opened the door to the shop, Max bounded inside, and Callie lost herself in the warmth of her fabric and buttons and quilt kits.

Then the afternoon activities took over, including changing clothes as Melinda had suggested. During the course of those chores, Callie did what she’d often done as a child: She pushed what was troubling her to the back of her mind.

Reuben watched the scene unfolding outside his barn window, and it was as if it were one of the Englisch motion pictures he’d heard his nephews describing. It was as if all that had happened since Deborah had driven her buggy onto his land earlier that morning, discovered the girl’s body, and run screaming for his help — as if all of that had happened to someone else.

No chance of that. It had happened and was happening … to him.

Reuben closed his right fist and worked it into the palm of his left hand. Though he wasn’t old, arthritis had already begun. He massaged his knuckles, kneaded the tendons like his sisters kneaded bread.

He was a big man, accustomed to long days of hard work. It was work he enjoyed. When his muscles ached from long hours in the field, he felt as if he’d done what he should for the day. When his back was sore from hauling feed or cleaning out stalls, he knew he’d completed his half of some contract established long ago.

Each evening he looked out across his grossdaddi’s land and asked himself if he had done his best. If he could honestly answer yes, then he was pleased with that day’s work. His dat and his grossdaddi had always taught him that his best — and only his best — was good enough.

Now, watching the sun set over the unharvested fields, Reuben had the uncomfortable feeling that somewhere, somehow, he’d broken the contract. He’d betrayed both his parents and his grandparents.

But where?

How?

Which step had been the one that had ultimately been the wrong step?

How could he have dealt differently with the girl?

What would have been a better way?

As he watched Shane Black walk toward his door, watched a house key swing back and forth from the officer’s hand, he knew that the next few moments would be the hardest.

The next few moments, another life could hang in the balance.

Reuben closed his eyes and did what he often did. He prayed for wisdom, that he might choose the correct path this time. He prayed for strength, that he might be able to endure what lay ahead. And he prayed for mercy, God’s mercy, as man’s mercy meant nothing to him — he neither expected nor wanted it.

Then he took one last swallow of cold, bitter kaffi.

Something told him it might be the last homebrewed kaffi he would have for quite some time.

Shane didn’t bother to knock on the door. He did stop to argue with Tobias.

Reuben turned away, not wanting his memory of this last sunset to be scarred.

“I have a legal right to question him again, Tobias. Now you can be present or you can leave, but you will move out of my way.”

Shane stepped through the door, still holding the key. Apparently Tobias hadn’t noticed it yet. He was still trying to prevent the lawman from entering their house.

“Don’t think because we’re a bit unfamiliar with your ways, that you can come in here and — “

“It’s all right, Tobias.” Reuben met Shane’s gaze without flinching. He wasn’t sure why the key had been in the pond, but when they brought the machinery and the nets, he’d suspected they would find something. There were only three questions to be answered now.

What else had they found?

How much did Shane know?

How much would he guess?

There was no use shying away from it.

“Esther mentioned she saw something shiny in the water, Reuben. When she was first cutting flowers, it’s what drew her eyes to the body.” Shane stepped forward, placed the key on the wooden table that stood between them. “Apparently the girl had this clutched in her hand, or she might have been wearing it around her neck. Sometime between when Esther spied the body and when our crime techs arrived, the key sank to the bottom. It took us a while to dredge it up. Look familiar to you?”

“Don’t answer that, Reuben. You don’t have to answer any of his questions.” Tobias now moved forward to the end of the table, his shadow casting a straight line across the room as the evening’s last light fell through the window. “That key could have been in the pond for years.”

“Yeah, I suppose it could have. The string would have rotted though. I suspect Reuben knows that.”

Reuben joined them at the table, put his hand on Tobias as if he could keep him out of the middle of this, as if he could move him back out of the house where he wouldn’t have to hear what was coming. “Say what you intend to say, Mr. Black.”

“I want to know what this key was doing in the bottom of your pond? Why did the girl have it in her possession?”

Reuben didn’t answer.

He’d decided when they’d first shown up this morning that if his answer would require him to lie, he’d remain silent. A nod could be interpreted any number of ways, but an outright lie he would avoid. It was a fine line, but the best he could do under the circumstances.

“We’ve already tried the key, Reuben. We know it unlocks your grandfather’s house. Was she staying there?”

“You had no right!” Tobias practically exploded. “The pond, yes. But you had no right to go into my grossdaddi’s house.” His face turned red in the light of the setting sun, and Reuben had to look down, look away.

The pain on Tobias’ face was nearly more than he could stomach.

“We had every right. When Judge Stearns cleared a search warrant for the area surrounding the body, it included the entire murder site — “

“You don’t know it’s a murder. The girl could have fallen. She could have slipped. She could have even jumped in and drowned herself.” Tobias’ hands went up and out in frustration, finally settled on his head and yanked at hair that was already an unruly mess. He pulled with both hands, causing it to stand out like the horns of the old bull in the back pasture. It was a habit he’d had since they were boys.

Reuben wanted to reach over and calm him, but instead he waited.

As much as it hurt him, he waited.

Shane stood up straighter, pushed his hands into his pockets. “Drowned in water she could have stood up in? Not likely. Then there’s that nasty head injury. We’ve established an approximate time of death. As I said before, your alibi is good and the folks at the feed store have backed you up, but Reuben has yet to answer my questions.”

“I hear no questions — only accusations.”

“Did you drag her around the pond, Reuben?”

“Why would he drag anything? He can easily carry a hundred-pound sack of feed.”

Shane sighed and ran his hand up and around his neck. “Tell me what happened. Reuben, I’ve known you for years. You can trust me to do the right thing, but you have to tell me what happened here, and regardless, I have to collect the evidence.”

Reuben remained silent, and Tobias continued to rant.

“So you have the right to tramp all over our place?”

“Yes, I do, and he will have to start answering my questions.” Shane jerked a thumb toward Reuben. “I’ll search your grandfather’s place, your barns, this place — I see you’ve fixed it up quite nicely. Is there some reason you didn’t want to live in the house? Something you were hiding there?”

“That’s ridiculous.” Tobias shook his head and clutched the back of the chair in front of him.

“I will have my answers, whether they come from you or Reuben or the evidence. I want to know why that girl had the key to that house. I want to know if she was living there, and if so, why.” Shane’s voice never rose in volume, but it became colder with each word, like a winter storm blowing across the fields.

Reuben felt it and steeled himself against the fight to come. From the worry lines creasing his cousin’s face, he knew Tobias felt it too.

Tobias turned and walked to the wall of the barn. He stood facing it, his hands in his pants’ pockets, his head bowed.

“Reuben, I don’t want to arrest you for murder, but you have to give me a reason not to. You have to give me something. At least start by answering my questions.” Shane leaned forward, both hands on the table. “Why was this girl here? What happened to her? And how did she come to have the key to your grandfather’s house?”

“Maybe she stole it.” The words tore out of Tobias like lightning ripping across a clear blue sky. He stalked back across the room, stopped inches shy of the table, and stood staring down at the key. “Maybe she stole it. We didn’t even know she was staying there. I give you my word that I’ve never seen that girl before today, before I saw her on the stretcher. She could have been a runaway. Reuben’s in the field all day, and I’ve been busy at my job in town and over at Esther’s.”

“All right. I suppose that’s possible.” Shane looked at Reuben, locked gazes with him. “Is that your take on it? We have a forensics team in the house now. We won’t find any of your DNA in there? Any of your fingerprints on anything of hers that might be in there? No evidence that you’ve been in there?”

“It’s our grossdaddi’s house. Of course you’ll find evidence, but it will be very old.” Tobias shook his head. “We haven’t been in that house in several years. Our schweschdern come over and give it a good cleaning every spring, but it’s too big for two bachelors to live in. That’s why we chose to live in the barn instead.”

“All right. DNA does degrade over time — heat, sunlight, and moisture will all affect any traces that have been left in the house since it’s been closed up.” Shane paused, scrubbed his hand over his face. “But if what you say is true, I shouldn’t find any signs that either of you have been there recently.”

“No. We haven’t.” Tobias slapped his hand on the table, satisfied they’d reached some compromise. “And then you’ll go?”

“I didn’t say that, and you have to stop answering for Reuben. He’s not mute. I know that. He has to answer for himself. I have to receive a statement from him or—”

Two knocks sounded on the door to the barn, and Andrew Gavin stepped through. Reuben felt his pulse kick up a notch, felt sweat begin to trickle down the small of his back, but he forced his expression to remain neutral.

“Black.” Gavin pulled off a ball cap he was wearing as he stepped into the room. “Evening, Tobias, Reuben.”

Tobias and Shane mumbled hellos.

Reuben remained perfectly still.

“Getting here a little late, aren’t you?” Shane’s voice held a bit of a scolding, like Reuben’s father’s when he was working on training a pup.

“Actually I wasn’t on duty tonight, but Captain Taylor called me in. I was fishing out on the lake when I received the message.”

Closer to Tobias’ age, Andrew Gavin was different from most Amish and Englisch men that Reuben had encountered. His short haircut, jeans, and T-shirt left no doubt that he was an Englischer, but he was extremely quiet most of the time, which made him seem more like the Amish to Reuben. He also kept himself somewhat apart, and Reuben wondered about that. Perhaps it was because of the things he had seen while he’d fought in their war — serving overseas in Afghanistan, or maybe because once he’d lived overseas he saw things in Shipshewana differently.

Regardless, Andrew Gavin didn’t seem to fit completely into the Englisch side of things. In fact, in a lot of ways, Gavin reminded Reuben of a younger version of himself. In other words, he was built like a bull: solid. Some folks would say stocky, but he was really six feet of muscle.

The fact that he’d served in the Englisch military would have normally put a wedge between any friendship, but he was impossible not to like. Quiet and unobtrusive, Gavin had always been respectful of their plain ways. He was also a good customer for Reuben’s burgeoning woodwork business. Over the last year they’d moved from being acquaintances to something more — something that included a deep respect for each other’s work.

“Is there a reason you’re in here … right now?” Shane glanced at his watch. “We were in the middle of something.”

“Right. The Captain asked that I tell you they’re ready to move the body to the morgue.”

“Got it.”

Gavin turned to go, then stopped as if he’d forgotten something. When he turned back toward them, Reuben wanted to shout out, to stop him, but he didn’t know how without pulling the entire barn down on top of them all.

“By the way, Reuben, I wanted to say I’m sorry for your loss.”

Reuben nodded once in thanks, hoping Gavin would move on to his work. He nearly did too. He was practically out the door, when Shane called him back.

“What did you mean by that?”

“By what?”

“That you were sorry for Reuben’s loss.”

Gavin looked from Shane to Reuben and back again. “Only that she was his friend and now she’s dead. I wanted to offer my condolences.”

Silence filled the barn as Shane let Gavin’s words sink into the night. Reuben still hadn’t moved, his muscles growing rigid from standing there in one spot for so long, from anticipating what would happen next.

“I’m curious. Why would you say the deceased was his friend?”

Once again Gavin glanced from Reuben to Shane. This time his military training took over though. He clasped his hands behind his back, posture perfect, and limited his response to the bare facts. “Because when I was here last Saturday, I saw them coming out of the main house together.”