Murder Simply Brewed Read online

  PRAISE FOR MURDER SIMPLY BREWED

  “In Murder Simply Brewed, Vannetta Chapman has crafted a tightly woven tale in the best tradition of the cozy mystery. An Englisch businesswoman and a young Amish shop girl make an unlikely pair of amateur sleuths when they team up to solve the murder of a coworker whose death has been dismissed as natural causes by the police. Both their lives are further complicated by romance made all the sweeter by the ugly happenings at the Amish Artisan Village. Chapman’s light touch and thoughtful representation of the Amish culture make Murder Simply Brewed a delightful read for an evening by a warm fire, a cup of tea in hand.”

  —KELLY IRVIN, AUTHOR OF THE BLISS CREEK AMISH SERIES

  “Murder Simply Brewed combines all the coziness of an Amish home with the twists and turns of a great suspense. With a little romance thrown it, you can’t go wrong! Vannetta Chapman has crafted a charming story that shows things aren’t always as they first appear.”

  —BETH SHRIVER, BEST-SELLING AUTHOR OF THE TOUCH OF GRACE TRILOGY

  “Vannetta Chapman’s Murder Simply Brewed is a heartwarming whodunit that is sure to satisfy fans of both Amish romance and cozy mystery.”

  —AMANDA FLOWER, AUTHOR OF A PLAIN DISAPPEARANCE

  “A wonderful story of first love, second love, and a murder that pulls them all together in a page turning way. Murder Simply Brewed is a must read for all Amish fans!”

  —RUTH REID, BEST-SELLING AUTHOR OF THE HEAVEN ON EARTH SERIES

  “Vannetta Chapman has poured us a steaming cup of adventure, mystery, and romance in this enthralling ‘can’t put it down’ yarn. An intriguing blend of piquant Amish, robust Englisch, and ‘dark roast’ characters makes for some tasty hours of reading enjoyment. Top it all off with the whipped cream of one of this genre’s most talented writers and you have yourself a book that is a delightful ‘espresso’ for the mind and heart.”

  —PATRICK E. CRAIG, AUTHOR OF A QUILT FOR JENNA AND THE APPLE CREEK DREAMS SERIES

  Also by Vannetta Chapman

  THE SHIPSHEWANA AMISH MYSTERY SERIES

  Falling to Pieces

  A Perfect Square

  Material Witness

  Where Healing Blooms novella included in An Amish Garden

  ZONDERVAN

  Murder Simply Brewed

  Copyright © 2014 by Vannetta Chapman

  ePub Edition © February 2014: ISBN 978-0-310-32580-2

  Requests for information should be addressed to:

  Zondervan, Grand Rapids, Michigan 49530

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Chapman, Vannetta.

  Murder simply brewed : an Amish Village mystery / by Vannetta Chapman.

  pages cm.

  ISBN 978-0-310-32616-8 (trade paper)

  1. Amish--Fiction. 2. Murder--Investigation--Fiction. I. Title.

  PS3603.H3744M87 2014

  813’.6--dc23

  2013037374

  All Scripture quotations, unless otherwise indicated, are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide.

  Any Internet addresses (websites, blogs, etc.) and telephone numbers in this book are offered as a resource. They are not intended in any way to be or imply an endorsement by Zondervan, nor does Zondervan vouch for the content of these sites and numbers for the life of this book.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or any other—except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior permission of the publisher.

  Art direction by Kristen Vasgaard

  Design by Connie Gabbert

  Front cover photo by Steve Gardner, Pixelworks

  Interior design: James A. Phinney

  Printed in the United States of America

  13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 / RRD / 23 22 21 20 19 18 17 16 15 14 13 12 11 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  For my friend,

  Kristy Kreymer

  Contents

  Author’s Note

  Glossary

  Prologue

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  Twenty-Three

  Twenty-Four

  Twenty-Five

  Twenty-Six

  Twenty-Seven

  Twenty-Eight

  Twenty-Nine

  Thirty

  Thirty-One

  Thirty-Two

  Thirty-Three

  Thirty-Four

  Thirty-Five

  Thirty-Six

  Thirty-Seven

  Thirty-Eight

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Discussion Questions

  About the Author

  I call to the LORD, who is worthy of praise, and I am saved from my enemies.

  —2 Samuel 22:4

  This is the inscription that was written:

  MENE, MENE, TEKEL, PARSIN

  Here is what these words mean:

  God has numbered the days of your reign and brought it to an end.

  —Daniel 5:25–26

  Author’s Note

  While this novel is set against the real backdrop of Middlebury, Indiana, the characters are fictional. There is no intended resemblance between the characters in this book and any real members of the Amish and Mennonite communities. As with any work of fiction, I’ve taken license in some areas of research as a means of creating the necessary circumstances for my characters. My research was thorough; however, it would be impossible to be completely accurate in details and descriptions, since each and every community differs. Therefore, any inaccuracies in the Amish and Mennonite lifestyles portrayed in this book are completely due to fictional license.

  Glossary

  boppli—baby

  bruder—brother

  Dawdy Haus—grandfather’s home

  dat—father

  danki—thank you

  dochder—daughter

  dochdern—daughters

  Englischer—non-Amish person

  freinden—friends

  gern gschehne—you’re welcome

  Gotte’s wille—God’s will

  grandkinner—grandchildren

  grossdaddi—grandfather

  gudemariye—good morning

  gut—good

  in lieb—in love

  kaffi—coffee

  kapp—prayer covering

  kind—child

  kinner—children

  Loblied—praise song

  mamm—mom

  narrisch—crazy

  nein—no

  onkel—uncle

  Ordnung—set of rules for Amish living

  rumspringa—running around; time before an Amish young person has officially joined the church, provides a bridge between childhood and adulthood

  schweschder—sister

  wunderbaar—wonderful

  ya—yes

  Prologue

  Middlebury, Indiana

  April 14

  Amber Wright had the perfect job.

  Five minutes after leaving work, she walked into her home, set her purse and keys on a small table by the front door, and pro
ceeded to walk across the living room. Leo rubbed against her long denim skirt, meowing and generally kicking up quite a fuss. She squatted and scratched the yellow cat behind his ears, but he pulled away and strutted off to the kitchen, his tail high and his meows beckoning her.

  “You cannot be starving.”

  Leo blinked at her, then wound a figure eight around her legs.

  “Spoiled. That’s what you are.” She opened a can of cat food and dumped it into his bowl.

  His purring increased until it resembled an idling engine.

  “Your manners are deteriorating. You didn’t even ask me about my day!” Amber moved to the refrigerator and peered inside, but she found nothing she could rustle up for dinner. Eggs maybe, except she’d had eggs the night before.

  The doorbell rang before she could fall into despair over her lack of cooking skills. Cooking? She didn’t even bother to grocery shop. The Village kept her busy—the Amish Artisan Village. Set on seventy acres, it included an inn with one hundred rooms, a small conference center, a restaurant, a bakery, and six artisan shops. She loved her job as its general manager, even after twenty-two years. If working full days meant her diet suffered a bit, it was a price she was willing to pay. Besides, she could always order from their restaurant, which served tasty Amish dishes.

  She looked through the front-door glass out at the beautiful Indiana afternoon and saw Larry Sharp, her assistant manager. He was holding a large bouquet of flowers. Larry was short, chubby, and had shockingly red hair. His skin was a pasty white—where it wasn’t freckled. He certainly wouldn’t win any beauty awards, but he was a top-notch assistant manager. Amber was happy to have him working at the Village.

  She opened the inside door, then the storm door, and motioned him inside.

  “For me?”

  “Sorry to bother you. The florist delivered them at four thirty, not realizing you’d be gone.”

  “You mean they don’t know that I arrive at work at seven in the morning? Service is slipping in this town.” Amber carried the flowers—six yellow roses surrounded by daisies and baby’s breath—into her dining room and set them on the table, with Larry following.

  “Strange container.” Larry eyeballed the pig-shaped vase that held the bouquet.

  “Last time it was a boot, complete with spurs.” Amber pointed to the corner bookcase near the dining room window. Every shelf was covered with an odd assortment of vases. “My sister has an interesting sense of humor. Miranda lives in Biloxi, Mississippi, and I have no idea where she finds such unusual vases.”

  Larry’s gaze shifted from the newest bouquet, raked over the large, purple pig container, then flitted to the bookcase and back again. Finally he shook his head and muttered something that sounded like, “Women.”

  “Do you have time for a soda or some tea?”

  “No. I need to get back. My boss likes supervision on the property at all times.”

  “Indeed I do,” Amber agreed as she walked him back out to the front porch.

  “You haven’t outgrown this house yet?” Larry stared at the tiny yard, the one-car detached garage, and the porch that was barely big enough for the two rockers she’d placed on it.

  “Outgrow the Dawdy Haus? Never!” Amber loved her home. She thanked God for it every night. It was exactly the right size for her and Leo. The home was part of her salary package, provided by the owners of the Village, and it was situated close enough to the offices that she could walk to work when the weather was pleasant.

  Larry shrugged as he stepped off her porch and made his way down her front walk. He’d driven the golf cart over, a vehicle available to both of them though mostly Larry used it. He checked each store after closing, and the golf cart allowed him to move more quickly around the Village property. Amber followed him to the cart and was about to wave good-bye when a vintage blue-and-white pickup truck squealed out of the Village parking lot and down the road.

  They both turned to stare after Ethan Gray. He was the manager of A Simple Blend, one of the shops that circled the small pond at the Village. Ethan accelerated the truck down the road, switching into the oncoming lane to pass a slow-moving sedan.

  “Something wrong with Ethan?” Amber turned back toward Larry as she asked the question. For a brief moment, she caught his unguarded expression—what looked to be a combination of distaste, resentment, and an odd sort of satisfaction. Could those things be contained in one look? Yet Amber was certain those were the emotions playing out across his face.

  “Larry?”

  Her assistant manager blinked and then plastered a smile on his face. Starting up the golf cart, he muttered, “Best get back.” He ignored her first question completely, and he acted as if he hadn’t seen Ethan’s mad race out of the Village parking lot.

  Larry gave her a friendly wave and backed carefully out of her driveway. The Dawdy Haus was located on a small rise a short distance from the main Village property, so she was able to watch the progress of the cart as Larry made his way out onto the road and then back onto the Village property. He stopped and spoke with the parking attendant, though she couldn’t see who this was, and then continued up to the main building in the Village, which housed the inn and the conference center.

  Amber tucked her shoulder-length brown hair behind her ears.

  Perhaps she’d imagined the expression on Larry’s face, but she certainly had not dreamed up Ethan’s strange exit. What was going on?

  Leo had followed them out onto the porch. The lanky cat stretched and then sat on the welcome mat, his paws tucked beneath him.

  Amber settled beside him on the porch steps and tried to figure out what had just happened. The last thing she needed at the Village was for two of her employees to be engaged in some sort of battle.

  One

  April 21, one week later

  Hannah Troyer’s Monday morning was off to a wonderful start.

  She’d turned twenty-two the day before and was still feeling the joy of a new year. Nothing had gone wrong so far—no fights with her siblings, no disagreements with her parents, and no disastrous discussions with the two boys who seemed interested in courting her.

  Everything was perfect.

  She’d ridden her bicycle from her parents’ home to the Amish Artisan Village, pedaling through the April morning along the Pumpkinvine Trail. The trail had been under construction by the town of Middlebury for some time. The portion that passed near her parents’ home had been completed the previous year. She’d heard it would soon run from Elkhart all the way to Shipshewana. Although horses weren’t allowed, it offered a wonderful path to travel while walking or biking.

  The weather was cool but not cold. The green ash, American holly, and crab apple trees had all leafed out nicely into a dazzling display of green. She’d passed a few neighbors while riding—a few, but not too many. And she did feel pretty in her new lilac-colored dress and white prayer kapp.

  Not that she was going to focus on her looks this year.

  Vanity was a sin—one she struggled with of late, perhaps because of her age, or maybe because it seemed that boys suddenly acted differently around her. It wasn’t so much that she thought she was beautiful. With her plain-colored brown hair, plain brown eyes, glasses, and too-thin build, she could best be described as average. She was fine with both being plain and being average, but she did realize that too often she focused on how she looked. It had been six months since she’d joined the church. That was an important day in her life. She’d confessed her faith in Christ before their congregation and vowed to follow the rules of their Ordnung.

  So why did she struggle with vanity? She liked new dresses and pinning her kapp where a bit of her hair peeked through. Even the new glasses weren’t bad. They were small brown frames with flecks of blue that made her eyes pop. She’d wanted the bright blue glasses but hadn’t dared to buy them. They weren’t simple at all.

  As she pedaled into the Village parking lot, she tried to puzzle out her feelings. She loved
their plain style of clothing, because it was how she’d always dressed. Wearing Englisch clothes had not been part of her rumspringa, though she had once tried to drive a car. That had been disastrous when she’d backed it into the tree near her friend’s front porch.

  No automobiles? No problem.

  Plain clothing? Fine.

  Hers was more a problem of attitude—braiding her hair different ways to see which was most attractive, choosing fabric with colors that accented her eyes, wondering if a small touch of blush and powder on her cheeks might help her look a tad bit older. She hadn’t actually worn makeup, but she’d thought about it. The new glasses were something she needed because her prescription had changed. But the new frames? Those were a luxury that she’d paid for with the money she’d saved from her job.

  Yesterday had been her birthday, and today was a new beginning. She did not want a guilty conscience worrying her as she began her twenty-second year. Or was it twenty-third? Birthdays always confused her. Was she ending a year or beginning one?

  Her youngest sibling, Mattie, had turned two after Christmas. She had celebrated the end of her second year, which meant yesterday Hannah had celebrated the end of her twenty-second year. She was beginning her twenty-third year. The thought brought a huge smile to her face. Twenty-three had a nice ring to it.

  She stored her bicycle in the shed behind the inn and set off on the path that circled the pond. Most of the buildings that made up the Village had been added on to the property as the business grew. The original buildings, the restaurant and inn, were located with easy access to the parking lot. The inn was the largest structure with the conference center addition attached to it. This building stretched across the entire northern end of the pond. Branching away and to the south was a concrete path that led around the tranquil water.

  She’d seen pictures from years ago, pictures that were framed and hanging on the wall in the inn’s lobby. Back then the pond had looked like something in a farmer’s pasture. Weeds grew high around it and cows grazed nearby.

  Now there was the path circling the pond with trees that provided shade, and the grounds crew kept the bushes trimmed and the grass cut. The six shops began at the inn and stretched halfway around the pond. The other half of the walk had benches where guests could rest. If you walked the entire thing, which only took ten minutes at the most, you ended up right back at the center of the complex, near the inn and the restaurant.