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  She’d been prepared to quiz them about the web page, but looking at the couple—they weren’t quite elderly, probably only five years older than she was—all her accusations fell away. Instead, she felt a deep sympathy for them, along with an intense desire to somehow make things right.

  “What’s wrong?” She stood in front of them, close enough to read their expressions, but not so close as to make them feel caught. “I know it has to do with Russell Dixon. I found his...his webpage.”

  Henry and Jan shared a look. Jan nodded once and Henry pulled out an old pipe he carried around, though Agatha had yet to see him light it. He studied the thing as if the answers to the trials of life lay within it.

  “My dat gave me this. He was a wise man. Had a proverb for near about everything. Fortune favors the bold, he’d say. By which I suppose he meant daring to change the crop in the north field, or purchasing a different type of dairy cow.”

  “We couldn’t have known, Henry.” Jan put a hand on his arm.

  Henry patted her hand and raised his eyes to Agatha’s. “Dat also said that contentment is not getting what we want but being satisfied with what we have.”

  “That’s sometimes difficult to do.”

  “Indeed.”

  “Tell me about Russell Dixon. You knew him before you came here?”

  “We knew of him. He’d been to Indiana, gave a talk to prospective investors—fancy term for someone willing to plunk down their hard-earned cash.”

  “It was a scam?”

  “Apparently.”

  “So you came here to confront him?”

  “Nein.” Jan took up the story. “We simply wanted to meet with him and clarify where exactly our investment went. It’s been over a year, and he promised updates but they never came.”

  “How much did you invest?”

  “More than we should have.” Henry stared out across the courts. “More than we should have.”

  Jan let out a long exhale. “It was our nest egg. You know how the price of land has risen in Indiana. We were hoping if we could find a way to double our money that we could help the grandkinner as they try to buy farmland. Now, well now it seems as if we’ve lost it all.”

  “Dixon agreed to meet with you?”

  “Reluctantly.” Henry ran his thumb over the bowl of the pipe, then slipped it back into his pocket. “He told us he had other business here, and that if we could make it he’d be happy to sit down with us and explain in detail where our money was and what kind of return we were receiving.”

  “Did the Fishers and Beilers invest as well?”

  “Ya.”

  “We’ll need to all meet with Tony and possibly Lieutenant Bannister.”

  “The Fishers are gone.”

  “Gone?”

  “They went back this morning.”

  “But they already paid for two more nights. Do you mean they went back to Indiana?”

  “Ya. Said they’d already lost the money. No need to lose more time as well. James wasn’t looking forward to telling his son.” Henry pulled his shoulders back and sat up straighter. “It’s embarrassing, more than anything.”

  “You have nothing to be embarrassed about. People who perpetuate these scams, they’re very gut at deceiving others. That’s not your fault. You’re the victim here.”

  “We were foolish, is what we were.” Henry stood and reached for Jan’s hand. “We’ll meet with Tony or Bannister. Whatever you think is best. But Agatha, we didn’t kill that man. We would never do such a thing, not even for money—especially not for money.”

  He tucked Jan’s hand into the crook of his arm and together they walked slowly back toward their room.

  Agatha glanced over at Tony’s, but she could see from where she stood he was still gone. During the day he always parked his truck in the drive instead of the carport. She could wait for him to return, but it wasn’t in her nature to wait when something needed to be done. And as distasteful as this was, best to be done with it as soon as possible.

  She spoke with Gina, then hitched Doc to the buggy. The mare looked particularly pleased to be back on the road. Agatha realized she hadn’t spent enough time with her lately. Murder investigations had a way of messing with one’s schedule.

  As the horse clip-clopped down the road, Agatha couldn’t help but notice how beautiful the day was...how at odds with nature were the ways of man.

  Why had Russell Dixon told the Amish couples to meet at her place? Was he planning on giving them their money back? Perhaps he’d had a change of heart. But he could have spoken to them over the phone and transferred their funds electronically. Nein, there must have been another reason for his agreeing to meet with them.

  She had little chance of figuring out the why and how of someone like Mr. Dixon. His life was completely foreign to her. Tony was working on that, and it was something he had experience with. What she had experience with was helping Amish folk, especially the elderly.

  She didn’t know if Henry and Jan would ever see their money again, but she did know they were hurting. She suspected the Beilers were just as upset. While she might not be able to help them, she knew someone who could.

  Twenty minutes later, she pulled into the drive of Jonas and Minerva. Things were spiraling out of control. If there was anyone who could guide them through this storm, it was their bishop.

  Jonas met her on the front porch.

  She succinctly explained the situation. Jonas’s expression grew more serious and grim with each detail. When she’d finished, he put both hands on the porch railing and looked out over his farm. It wasn’t on the river, like hers, but it was good land. He’d said on several occasions how happy he was with the area, with the move they’d made.

  “Do you think this is related to Mr. Dixon’s death?”

  “It could be.” Jonas squinted his eyes, still studying the horizon. “People will kill for money. For some, money is the only achievement they have in this life. But that’s not true of our people. We live this life to reflect the next, and my guess is that the Beilers and Glicks and Fishers have done a gut job of that. Their mistake was in forgetting our goal to remain separate—and it was a costly one, for sure and certain.”

  “What can we do?”

  “I’ll go see the two couples who are still here—counsel and pray with them. Let them know they’re not the first who have fallen for a scam.” He smiled for the first time since she’d delivered the news. “Remember when everyone was buying ostriches? The next great thing was going to be the ostrich burger.”

  “I always thought the meat had a gamey taste to it.”

  “But many wanted to believe they were the next great thing. Sometimes we have to be reminded that the next great thing comes after this life. Our job in this one is to be good stewards with what we have.”

  Agatha thought of that as she turned Doc back toward the main road. Our job is to be good stewards with what we have. What she had was a bed and breakfast, and she planned to be the very best steward of it she could be. Even if it meant finding and confronting a killer.

  Chapter Twenty

  Tony’s first stop was at the public defender’s office. Hunt County had a single public defender, and Isabella Garcia had more cases than one person could possibly handle. He’d called ahead, and though she obviously had a full day, she’d told him to stop by.

  He wasn’t too surprised to see a full waiting room. The age of her clients ranged from a young woman who looked to be seventeen to an older gentleman who had to be in his seventies. Every ethnicity he could think of was represented. What they had in common was lack of resources and the need for an advocate in regard to the legal system.

  A new secretary told him to take a seat, but Isabella waved Tony back into her office before he could pick up one of the dated magazines from the table.

  Isabella was wearing what amounted to her work uniform—a flowered print skirt and a white blouse. Her black hair reached past her waist, and she wore it straight down he
r back. She was in her early thirties with dark brown skin, stood only five and a half feet, and was as round as she was tall.

  As usual, her desk was perfectly clean except for a single folder. Isabella was well known for being compulsively organized. It was probably the only way she’d survived five years in the public defender’s office.

  “Long time, Tony.”

  “Been holed up in my house.”

  “I called a few times after the funeral—wasn’t sure if you received my messages.”

  “I did, and I appreciate your reaching out. I suppose I’ve been nursing my wounds since Camilla died.” Tony always found Isabella an easy person to be honest with. They’d once worked fairly closely together, and he respected both her attitude and work ethic.

  “La familia, lo es todo, mi amigo.”

  “She certainly was everything to me.”

  “And grief is different for every person.” Isabella centered the file folder in the middle of her desk, looked up at him, and smiled.

  A kindness wafted off her that Tony had appreciated from the first day. They were lucky to have her standing up for the rights of those who couldn’t afford lawyers.

  “I suppose you’re here to talk to me about Russell Dixon.”

  “I’m impressed.”

  “Fairly simple deduction. Didn’t take a detective to figure that out.” She’d always loved teasing him about being the clever one. “First murder in our town this year.”

  “And hopefully, the last.”

  “Everyone’s talking about it, and if what I read is true it happened next door to you.”

  “Did you know him?”

  “I never met the man, but I did advise Agatha Lapp.” She opened the folder, turned over the first sheet in the folder, read the second, and then glanced up at him. “She could have won a civil suit.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because insurance companies don’t like facing me.” Again the smile. “The driver, Willow Davis, was twenty-four years old, from Houston, and she tested clean for substances. The road was wet. The accident occurred at the curve headed out of town toward Ingram, and she was travelling at or below the speed limit.”

  “Apparently Dixon found that Samuel had no caution triangles on his buggy.”

  “True. All things combined, it was a terrible accident and nothing more.”

  “So why do you say Agatha would have been awarded money from the insurance company?”

  “Because they have deep pockets, and they dislike bad publicity. They would have settled out of court.”

  “But...”

  “Your neighbor chose not to pursue civil litigation or even mediation.”

  Tony nodded. Agatha had told him as much.

  Isabella waited the space of a heartbeat. “Can you explain that to me?”

  “They’re Amish. They’re different.”

  “I gathered as much.” Isabella leaned toward the sheet of paper, tilted her head, and then glanced up at him. “I remember now the thing about this case that bothered me. The insurance company didn’t pay Dixon.”

  “So who did?”

  “I never found out. I would have, but Ms. Lapp’s lack of interest combined with an overly full workload...” She spread her hands out, palms up. “I had more pressing matters and there seemed no reason to look further.”

  “Is the fact that the insurance company didn’t hire Dixon unusual?”

  “It happens sometimes. I did a little digging before Agatha informed me she wasn’t interested in pursuing the matter. Willow Davis didn’t pay him.”

  “Who else would be interested in the outcome of the case?”

  “A good question.” Isabella closed the folder and centered it again on her desk. “Did she kill him?”

  “Agatha? Kill Dixon? Not a chance.”

  “Then who did?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “You’re the detective.”

  “I was a detective.”

  Isabella tapped her desktop with a bright pink nail. “Once a detective, always a detective.”

  “I’ve heard that about public defenders too.” Tony hesitated, then asked, “Why were you involved with this case? It’s not as if Agatha had been accused of a crime. I thought public defenders represented accused persons who can’t afford an attorney.”

  “You got me.” She grinned sheepishly. “Agatha’s case did not fall under my job description, but I wanted to reach out to the Amish folks here so I looked into it on my own.”

  “Because you have an abundance of free time.”

  “My thoughts were that the Amish were new to the area, probably not familiar with what can and can’t happen in a court of law, and, well...the accident caught my attention.”

  “You’re a good person, Isabella.”

  She stood and walked around the desk. “I’ve missed you. It’s good to see you...out again.”

  “It’s good to be out again.”

  He left her office having learned nothing but having added several additional questions to his list. Who had hired Russell Dixon? Did the same person want him dead? And how did any of this involve Agatha?

  His second stop was at his insurance agent’s office. David was out, but his office manager Ada was happy to talk to him. “Many policies carry an accidental death benefit now...though it is optional. Bodily injury liability is required and the minimum in Texas is thirty thousand.”

  “Isabella Garcia seems to think Agatha would have won a civil suit. She thinks it would’ve been settled in mediation.”

  “Most of the time that’s the case. It’s not worth going to court, and the insurance companies have the money. Why not just settle?”

  “Doesn’t that make them an easy target?”

  “You can’t really scam a death. You might be able to milk money for a disability or injury, but death? Sort of final. Can’t spend it, either, if you’re six feet under the ground.”

  Tony wasn’t sure if he agreed with that or not. On one level, he did, but on another level what she said only added more questions. “So the woman—Willow Davis—was not at fault.”

  “I read the same thing in the paper.”

  “The insurance company knew they’d most likely pony up thirty thousand.”

  “They certainly wouldn’t have been surprised if it turned out that way.”

  “But in the end, a third party hired Dixon to throw a monkey wrench in the case. Who would do that?”

  “Who would benefit from it?”

  “I have no idea, but it’s possible the same person might have later decided they’d benefit from Dixon’s death. There are three main questions I’m concerned with now. Who is this person? Are they a threat to anyone else? Or is something or someone else standing in their way?”

  He drove back toward his place, mulling over the conversation with Ada as well as Isabella. While he hadn’t gleaned much new information, the bigger picture was starting to come together. He was thinking of that—of looking at things from a wider perspective—when he glanced up and noticed a black SUV in his rearview mirror. By the time he realized they meant to hit him, there was little he could do other than aim for the side of the road. They whipped past him going at least ninety.

  They were barely out of sight when he received a text. Both the name and number of the caller had been blocked.

  Next time we won’t miss

  He pocketed the cell phone, made a U-turn, and headed back to town.

  Twenty minutes later, Bannister studied him across the desk.

  After Tony recounted the entire incident, Bannister leaned back in his chair, hands interlaced behind his head. “You know how it is around here in the summer—teenagers acting stupid isn’t exactly unusual.”

  “These were not teenagers.”

  “You were able to see them?”

  “No. The window tint was too dark.”

  “License plates?”

  “Not on the front. I didn’t get a good look at the back. I
was busy trying not to hit Dan Hutchison’s fence.”

  “I don’t know, Tony. I can’t see that this is related to Dixon’s murder.”

  Tony pulled out his phone, pulled up the text, and passed it to Bannister.

  “Again, this could be kids messing with you. Anyone can block their number when sending a text.” Bannister leaned forward, elbows braced on his desk. He looked different than he had when he’d picked up Agatha for questioning. Less cocky, a little unsure of himself, tired. Tony remembered that phase of an investigation all too well.

  “I want to solve this as much as you do—more, since it’s my job to catch whoever did this. But so far our best suspect is still Agatha Lapp.”

  “You checked out all her guests?”

  He nodded once, curtly.

  “No one had a connection to Dixon?”

  Bannister blew out a long sigh, stood, and shut his office door. “This doesn’t leave here.”

  “Understood.”

  “Dixon turned out to be a complicated fellow. We found evidence that he was running a few scams.”

  “What kind of scams?”

  “The usual—luring in investors, promising the moon, then disappearing. Several of the couples at Agatha’s place were involved.”

  “So you do have other suspects.”

  “Oh, we have a lot of those—close to a hundred, in fact. We’re tracking them down, but at this point none of them were in the area at the time...other than the couples staying at Agatha’s.”

  “What about the people at Agatha’s then? Are you bringing them in for questioning?” Tony was thinking of the Cox brothers and possibly even Stuart and Brooklyn Willis.

  “The guests I’m referring to were Amish. We’ve had them under surveillance, but if they were involved they’re playing it very cool. One couple went back to Indiana, and we have their local law enforcement keeping an eye on them. So far, they haven’t left the farm. Have you seen how old these people are? I don’t figure them for murderers.”

  “Old people can murder someone.”

  “Sure—technically that’s true, but you and I both know it doesn’t usually happen.”