A Plain Malice: An Appleseed Creek Mystery (Appleseed Creek Mystery Series Book 4) (19 page)

“I’ll tell you later,” I said out of the side of my mouth.

Gertie stopped in front of Becky and jabbed a fist into one hip. The top of her curly head was level with Becky’s shoulder. “I hope you have some good Amish stories for us. I don’t want just the happy stuff neither. I want the dirt.”

Becky
scrunched her nose. She certainly had some uncomfortable stories about Amish life she could tell.

Melinda gave us an apologetic smile. “I’m sure Becky has many
wonderful stories to share.”

“Remember, I want dirt, Kiddo,” Gertie crowed over her shoulder.
“Melinda, did you remember my fish jerky? It will go real swell with ice cream.”

Melinda sighed
. “Yes, Gertie, I have it.”

When they were on the bus, Becky looked at me. Her eyes were the size of Oreos.

“Don’t worry. Gertie is harmless… I think.”

“Chloe…”

“Just share what you are comfortable sharing. If you’re not sure if you should tell a story, don’t tell it. It’s better to err on the side of caution than say too much. Whatever you have to say will be more authentic than anything they’ve heard. You don’t have to confess your life story.” I hoped Becky understood that last part as code for, “Don’t tell them about the buggy accident.”

Her worried expression cleared.

“This ice cream better be as good as you say it is,” Jimbo said as he struggled up the bus steps.

“
It’s better,” Becky assured him.

My cell rang as I gave LeeAnne a hand up onto the first step. It was Chief Rose. “Becky, can you help these folks onto the bus
?”

She took my spot without question.

I moved a few feet away. “Hello?”

“Humphrey, I need you to come down to the station.”

“Now?”

“Yes, now, what do you think
, I called to schedule an appointment for next week?” The chief sounded more irritated than usual, and that was saying something.

“The tour bus is about to leave. I thought you wanted me on the
bus.”

While I was on the phone
, Becky chatted with the bus guests like they were old friends. It was a rare person who could resist Becky’s charms.

“I do, but this is more important at the moment. Pearl
’s here and wants to talk to you. Only you.”

“
What about the tour?”

“Drop them off somewhere and come over here.”
She sounded as if she spoke through gritted teeth.

“It’s not that easy. There are
n’t many places opened on Sunday.”

“Think of something and get over here. This is not
a multiple choice situation.”

All the passengers were on the bus now.
Hudson stamped his foot. Becky raised her eyebrows at me, which gave me an idea.

Chapter Twenty

As I drove into town, I felt guilty for sending Becky on the tour alone. She insisted she would be okay, but there could be a killer on that bus.

The police station was one quarter of Appleseed Creek’s town hall located on the town square. The town hall and city official offices had a grand entrance facing the square flanked by Georgian pillars. In contrast, the entrance to the police station was a reinforced metal door from the back parking lot. A sign marked the parking space closest to the door with Chief Rose’s name. Her white and blue patrol car was in the spot.

I stepped into the police station, which appeared the same as it always did with the no nonsense metal desk, fake plants, and terribly uncomfortable plastic molded chairs. Chief Rose finally admitted to me once she chose those chairs because they were the most uncomfortable she could find. She was thoughtful like that.

As it was Sunday, the chief’s receptionist was off. Pearl sat in one
of the painful chairs. The police chief sat at her receptionist’s desk. She stood. “Thanks for coming.”

“You’re welcome,” I said
, caught surprised. The chief typically didn’t thank me for following any of her edicts.

Pearl didn’t
lift her head.

“She’s barely holding it together. It’s like the loss of her cousin just hit her
,” the chief whispered.

“How did she get here?” I whispered back. “Did you ask her to come in?”

“I needed her to sign her statement, but I planned to send Riley out to her hotel to collect her signature. She showed up here about an hour ago.”

“What did she say?”

“I asked her how she got here, and she told me she took a taxi. After that she said she wanted to talk to you and hasn’t spoken a word since.”

Still Pearl didn’t raise her head.

I crossed the room and pulled one of the empty plastic chairs in front of the older woman. Chief Rose remained on the other side of the room, but she wouldn’t miss a thing.

“Pearl, it’s Chloe. You wanted to talk to me
?”

The older woman
stared at her hands gripping the leather strap of her handbag so tightly it left red indentations in her skin.

“Pearl, what did you want to talk to me
about?”

Slowly, Pearl lifted her head.
“Chloe?” She blinked at me. “I want to go home.”

I glanced at Chief Rose. She shook her head.

“I told you we can help you get home. You don’t have to stay with the tour.”

“I can’t leave without Ruby.
” She fumbled in her purse for a tissue. “She’s all the family I have—had—in the world. I need her to be able to go back with me.”

Again I looked to the chief for guidance. She mouthed, “Two more days.”

“Her body will be released in two days.”

She crushed the tissue in her hand.
“I can’t stay that long. I can’t. I’m afraid.”

Goosebumps sprang up on my
forearms. “Why? Did something happen? Did someone threaten you?”

Her voice dropped to a whisper.
“No.”

I shifted on the uncomfortable chair.
“Then, why do you feel differently than you did yesterday?”

She gave a shuddered breath.
“Spending last night in the hotel alone was terrible. I don’t know when I’ve ever been so afraid. I don’t travel.” Her southern accent became thicker. “I have never been in a hotel like that with no one I know. Every slam of a door, every creak of the floorboards above my head sent me into a panic. I spent the night sitting up in an armchair, reading my Bible and asking the Lord to deliver me.”

I reached across the space between us and squeezed her hand. “Pearl, you should have called me.
I would have brought you back to the Dutch Inn.”

Tears filled her eyes. “To that plac
e where I would be alone to be with people who may have hurt my cousin, my dearest friend?”

“You wouldn’t be alone. I am staying there now too.”

A tear fell onto the strap of her purse, and she brushed it away. “You are? Why?”

“As the new tour guide, it’s part of the
job.” I offered her a crooked smile. “Starting tonight, I will be leading the dinner conversations.”

“I never liked those
conversations.”

I loved her for saying
that.

“I promise no slideshow.”

That comment won me the tiniest of smiles.

“So why don’t you come back to the Dutch Inn
? I can drive you over to your hotel now, and you can pack your things and check out. We’ll have you settled in a room at the inn within the hour.”

“I would like that,” she said.

Chief Rose joined us. “I think this is a wise move, Pearl. Humphrey may be small but she is scrappy.”

Umm, thanks?

That got a true smile out of Pearl. “I thought that about Chloe when I met her.” She met my eyes. “You set a goal and you reach it. You are like many modern women of this time. In my day, it was different and not as easy. I wish I had been fearless enough to set my own course for my life. Instead, I let others choose it for me.”

My brow wrinkled.
Should I ask Pearl what she meant by the comment?

“
Humphrey, I need to speak to you for a moment in the conference room before you leave.”

I frowned.

Pearl patted my knee. “Go ahead. I can wait here a few more minutes. I’m in no rush to leave.”

I followed the chief into the interrogation room and appreciated it that she referred to it as the “conference” room in front of Pearl.

As I sat at the table, I received a text from Becky. “All good. They’re literally eating up the ice cream and my Amish stories. It’s a hit. Maybe I should be a travel agent.”

I winced at the idea of another career change. When Becky first left the Amish she wanted to be a fine art painter, then an art teacher, then a chef, then a Food Network star, and now a travel agent. It was hard to keep up. I hope she didn’t tell her parents any of these ideas before she settled on the final one.
It was not the Amish way to be indecisive about one’s future, but she was right on target for the average young adult.

Chief Rose got right to the point. “
It wasn’t just bad milk.”

“What do you mean?”

“Those people were poisoned.”

My jaw dropped.
“With what?”

“Y
ew.”

“Me?”
I squeaked.

“Not you, you.
Yew. Y-E-W. It’s a plant, a bush actually. Grows native in the area and a good portion of the northern half of the country.”

The image of Officer Riley sticking those plants into a
n evidence bag hit me.

The chief
opened a manila folder sitting in the middle of the table. She opened it. Inside there was a photo of the spiny pine branch Riley cut from the Troyer’s yard. “Yew,” she said simply.

“They ate that?”

She nodded. “We found traces of it in the milk cups.”

“All the cups?”
I yelped.

“No, only three.”

“Three. Was someone else supposed to drink it and,” I paused, “die.”

“That I don’t know. Maybe the kille
r had a backup cup in case.”

“
How could it be in the milk? Wouldn’t it have a taste?”

“Maybe.
Doc said the taste would have been a mild, bitter flavor, and the person drinking it might not have noticed.”

I examined the photograph.
“Would they have choked on the spines?”

She laughed. “Doc believes the poison was extract
ed by making a tea from the bark or the needles of the plant.”

I tapped my nails on the table top.
“That takes time and planning.”

The chief closed the folder.
“It’s called premeditated murder. As of this morning, this is officially a homicide investigation.”

R
elief washed over me. “This means Mr. Troyer is off the hook.”

Chief Rose narrowed he
r purple-lined eyes. “Not so fast.”

“
Are you kidding me? Why would he make a tea of this?” I pointed at the folder. “And give it to tourists? He would have made it before they arrived. He never met any of those people before they stepped onto his farm. Not to mention, such an act could destroy his family and ruin his business.” I took a breath.

She crossed her hands on the tabletop with palms facing down. “I see your point, and
no, I don’t think he did it. However, until I find the real killer, no suspect is off of my list.”

“You said that poison was found in the cups. What about the milk in the tank and
the cows. Is that okay? Can he sell it to the milkman?”

“It’s not my call.”

“The cows have to be milked. What should they do with all that milk? It will go to waste.”

Chief Rose frowned. “I don’
t have the authority to give the Troyers the go-ahead there. The state health inspectors have to do it, especially if the milk is to be sold to consumers.”

“When will that be?”

She pulled the folder across the table with her index finger. “I don’t know, but in my experience, government agencies are not known for their speed.”

“
It’s the Troyers’ livelihood.”

“I am well awa
re of that. I will give the health department a call to encourage them to release the farm from the quarantine, but I have to warn you, they won’t pay much attention to a small town cop like me.”

That’s what I was afraid of.

Chapter
Twenty-One

I waited in the hotel lobby as Pearl went to her room to pack. A television bolted to the stand in a high corner of the wall blared twenty-four hour news about a civil war on the other side of the world. The newscaster reminded me, Knox County wasn’t such a bad place to live.