A Perfect Square Page 8

  Callie flipped the switch to ON, sending water through the little coffeemaker. She didn’t use it to make coffee. Too many of her customers preferred tea. When she first arrived in Shipshe, she was a Starbucks drinker herself, and she still liked a nice strong cup first thing in the morning. But Deborah was winning her over to the pleasures of a nice hot cup of tea.

  Or perhaps it was the Indiana weather.

  The front windows of her shop rattled lightly with the fall wind, reminding her she would soon experience her first Indiana winter. Her childhood memories of visiting her aunt all took place around the milder months. Mother used to proclaim that the Indiana winters were why they lived in the south and that Daisy could come and see them if she wanted to. But her aunt never had.

  Each year Callie had received a Christmas postcard from her aunt instead. One even had the quilt shop on the front, covered in snow. Callie shivered at the thought. In Houston, a cold front had been anytime the temperature plummeted below sixty.

  Walking back toward her unexpected guest, Callie noted the sun was making its way through the front display windows. She wasn’t having a problem coping with an Indiana fall — the dazzling display of colors had lived up to her expectations and more.

  “I have several types of teas here and a few pastries. The hot water will be ready in a minute.” She set the tray down on the table in the back sitting area. “Now Mr. — “

  “Bontrager. Name’s Bontrager.”

  “Mr. Bontrager, what would you like to drink?”

  “That dog of yours looks hungry. Most Amish people keep their animals outside.” He reached up and combed his fingers through his solid white beard, reminding Callie again of the snow that was to come.

  When Bontrager had stepped into the shop, he’d reached up as if to remove his hat, then looked around in confusion. His hand had rubbed across his shiny bald head instead. He’d finally shrugged and followed Max toward the chairs in the back area. “We don’t abide animals in the house.”

  “Yes, I realize that, but Max sort of guards the shop for me. And as you can see, I’m not Amish.”

  “Does he eat?”

  “He does.”

  Bontrager picked up a shortbread cookie and threw it at Max, who caught it midair. He also swallowed it whole, not pausing for such niceties as chewing. The dog licked his chops once, wagged his tail, and waited for more.

  Smiling as if he’d seen a circus bear perform a trick, Bontrager picked up a pastry.

  “Actually, I prefer to feed him dog food. Sweets aren’t terribly good for him.”

  “He looks hungry to me.”

  “Well, he probably is. I usually feed him as soon as we come in from his morning yard time.”

  Bontrager leaned forward and looked under the table, then around the side of it. “Don’t see any food. Did he eat it already?”

  “No, he didn’t. Mr. Bontrager — “

  “Say, did you have some water to go with this tea? I prefer apple cinnamon myself.” He’d picked up the basket of tea bags and begun pawing through it, his concern for Max apparently forgotten.

  Callie closed her eyes and mumbled a brief prayer for patience. She hadn’t been much of a praying person before coming to Shipshe, just as she hadn’t been much of a tea drinker. Funny how a place, how the people in a place, could influence you.

  Deborah, Esther, and Melinda, with their quiet ways, had made an impression on her — sometimes more than she realized. Perhaps that was why she’d found herself walking through the doors of the local Presbyterian church the last several Sundays, a first in many years and one she knew would have made her Aunt Daisy smile.

  Bontrager placed the basket back on the table and gazed around the room.

  “Place looks about the same. I believe even the flooring is

  unchanged.” He thumped his cane against the hardwood floor. “Ever thought of updating?”

  Attempting to keep up with the turns and twists in the old man’s conversation was like trying to have a sensible talk with Deborah’s youngest. With Joshua, she never quite understood his one-word commands, and he bounced from one need to another before she could answer the previous one. Which reminded Callie, she hadn’t called Gavin yet.

  Someone had to be looking for the old guy.

  “Hold that question. I believe our hot water is ready.” Callie rushed back to the kitchen, called Gavin on her cell phone, and said, “Get over here.” Then she poured two mugs of hot water and carried it back out to where Bontrager and Max were still waiting.

  “So you’ve been here before?” She set the mug in front of him, even plucked a package of apple cinnamon tea from the basket, but Bontrager didn’t appear interested.

  Callie moved to the chair beside him, opened the bag for him, and dipped it into the steaming water. Clutching the hot mug appeared to calm him a bit, though it was still too hot to drink. He inhaled deeply, seeming to enjoy the scent of the apple cinnamon tea, and closed his eyes.

  When he looked at her again, his eyes had taken on a faraway look. In fact, as he gazed around the store, she was sure he wasn’t seeing what she was seeing at all.

  “Ya, course I’ve been here before. You know I stop in regularly. Come in to the Quilt and Shop every time we come to town. It’s not easy on a man, what with the roads impassable so much of the time. But I made a promise to Sharon when we moved here.”

  His hand began to shake as he raised the mug and took a small sip. “It’s been hard on her, leaving her family and all. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked her to come west. Maybe I should have waited until there was more of a town, a bigger district. I didn’t know though. Didn’t know women counted on such things.”

  Tears welled up in the old man’s eyes, turning their blue to a shimmery lake. When he looked at her, a single tear slipped down his weathered cheek, though he didn’t seem to notice. It caught in the wrinkles of his cheeks, then worked its way down. “She couldn’t come today. I thought I’d stop in just the same. Stop at the general store and the post office. See if there was any news from the family.”

  “Mr. Bontrager, who is your family? Can you tell me their names?”

  “Normally I pick up the supplies at the general store, and Sharon, she comes over here and picks out a little material.” He pronounced it mater-ee-ail. “Women-folk don’t call it that.”

  “Cloth?” Callie asked gently.

  He looked at her sharply, his gaze clearing for a moment. “Ya. The last time she came in, she picked out a little bit of cloth for the baby.” His hand shook more, causing the tea to slop and spill over the side of the cup. He leaned forward, set it down on the saucer.

  Then he reached for his cane and ran his hand up and down the wood. She noticed that the engraving wasn’t letters but rather a cross, a hammer, and a nail — three items in a row but touching at the corners, forming a ring that circled the cane. It seemed to calm him, center him in some way. When he spoke again, Callie had the sense that he was back in the present time and place, but the feeling remained that something wasn’t quite right.

  “The baby is why I’m here.”

  Callie glanced toward the front room, out the windows. Where was Gavin?

  “I’m afraid I don’t understand, Mr. Bontrager.”

  “Need you to find my dochder. Are you daft?”

  “If your daughter’s missing, you should see the police.”

  “Too late. It’s too late for that. Might be old, but I’m not senile.”

  The word senile set off an alarm in Callie’s mind. He probably wasn’t senile, but he might have Alzheimer’s or another form of dementia. If he’d been walking all night and missed his meds or become dehydrated, his condition was no doubt worse.

  “Mr. Bontrager, is there someone I can call for you?”

  “You already asked me that. There’s no need. Besides I heard you call someone. They’ll be here soon enough, and they’ll take me back to that place. Before they do, you need to listen to me. You and that dog. You
’re both good at solving things, right?”

  “I’m not sure why you think that.”

  “Saw your picture in the paper.” He raised his cane, nearly knocking over the basket of tea, and pointed it at the framed picture of her and Max, the one taken after they’d caught Stakehorn’s murderer.

  “That was an unusual situation. We don’t normally go looking for trouble.”

  “Most of us don’t, dochder. But trouble sometimes has a way of coming to us. Find my girl — find Bethany.” Bontrager reached out a hand lined with age. It was mostly bone, skin, and veins. Trembling, he grasped her arm. “Please, find my dochder. I need to see her one more time.”

  There was a light tap on the shop’s door, followed by a jingle of the bell. Gavin had finally arrived. Bontrager let go of Callie’s arm, reached for another cookie, and tossed it to Max.

  Chapter 11

  DEBORAH WAS ON THE WAY DOWN Main Street, headed toward the bishop’s when she saw the police cruiser parked at Callie’s shop. “Should we stop?”

  “Ya. Reuben’s not going anywhere. Let’s see if Callie needs our help.”

  She pulled the buggy into the parking lot of the quilt shop and shot a glance at Esther. She couldn’t imagine what else had gone wrong, why Callie would be standing with Max while talking to Andrew Gavin and two Amish men.

  Esther reached for Leah while Deborah secured Cinnamon and helped Joshua out.

  “Why is the officer talking to Miss Callie, Mamm? And whose grossdaddi is that?” Leah slipped her hand into Esther’s as they hurried toward the front of the shop.

  “Thank you again for watching after my dat.” A portly, middle-aged Amish man helped his father into an older buggy. He nodded once at Deborah and Esther, then climbed into the buggy himself.

  “Mr. Bontrager, are you sure …” Callie hesitated, speaking to the younger of the two Amish men, then pushed on. “It’s just that he seemed so sure about a missing daughter.”

  Deborah couldn’t see the expression on the old man’s face from where she stood, but it was quite clear to her that the younger man was struggling between anger and exhaustion. As with most Amish men she knew, he remained quiet until he was sure he’d won over the anger. When he did finally answer Callie, his words were a bit sharp, but even-toned.

  “And wouldn’t I know if I had a schweschder missing? I can assure you, it was his mind wandering. Next time he could show up and tell you that he has the keys to the great farm on the hill.” He picked up his hat and resettled it on his head. “But there is no great farm, and there’s no missing dochder. It’s the sickness.”

  He glanced at Callie once. “Thank you again for calling Officer Gavin.”

  A bit of the anger seeped into his voice, winning over his attempt to master it. “They should keep a closer eye on him. Shouldn’t be allowing old men to wander around in the dark of night. Anything could have happened to him.” He pulled a handkerchief from his coat pocket, mopped at the sweat running down his face, then carefully folded it and returned it to his pocket. Without looking back at them he muttered, “Gut day to you.”

  A snap of his wrist set his mare to a trot.

  Callie, Gavin, Deborah, Esther, and the little ones were left standing in the parking lot, staring after the buggy as it made its way down Main Street. Finally they remembered to say hello to one another.

  “Callie, who was that man?” Deborah shook her head, unable to imagine how her friend had managed to find mischief so early in the day.

  “I don’t know exactly, but he showed up in my garden this morning, and then … well, come inside for tea, and I’ll tell you the whole story.”

  “I’ll leave you to explain your latest escapade,” Gavin muttered with a smile — a smile that Deborah thought was very sweet.

  Why was Callie turning down dates with Gavin? He’d called her again last week; Callie had admitted as much to her. He was such a nice young man. “I need to complete some paperwork before I go off shift.”

  “Thanks for coming so quickly. I wasn’t sure what to do.” Callie tucked her hair behind her ears then reached down to pat Max.

  “You did the right thing. They didn’t even realize he was gone at the Grossdaddi House. According to the night supervisor, Bontrager was there when they checked on him at three this morning, but apparently the old guy is quite skilled at sneaking away.” Gavin turned and had made it halfway to his police cruiser, when Esther called out after him.

  “Officer Gavin, how is Reuben?”

  “Reuben?” Callie turned to Deborah. “Why is she asking Gavin about Reuben?”

  “I’ll explain in a minute.”

  Gavin stopped and it seemed he would answer her from the distance of six feet, but he walked back across the pavement, stopping next to them. “He’s all right. No one else is in the jail right now, so it’s pretty quiet.”

  “In jail? Reuben is in jail?”

  “Callie, stay calm. We’re here to work this out. We were on our way to see the bishop and then Adalyn. I’m sure it’s a misunderstanding.” Deborah placed her hand on Callie’s arm to settle her down.

  “It’s not a misunderstanding,” Gavin said. “But you don’t need to worry about him. He’s in no danger in the jail.”

  “That’s good to know, but it’s not exactly what I was asking. What I meant is, how long — “ Esther moistened her lips, then pushed on. “How long do you think he’ll be there?”

  Deborah saw Gavin’s eyes fill with compassion, saw him glance away, then force himself to look back at Esther, and she knew then, knew fully and completely, that they were in for a long fight.

  “Shane plans to file charges.”

  “File charges?” Callie’s voice rose so high Max growled again. “For what?”

  “For murder. Shane doesn’t like it either — believe me — but he can’t ignore the evidence, and he has enough to hold Reuben until the judge hears the initial arraignment.”

  “Like what?” Callie moved toward Gavin, but he shook his head.

  “You know I can’t tell you — “

  “Well, what did he find, Andrew? Reuben’s fingerprints around the girl’s neck? Oh, wait. She’d been whacked in back of the head …”

  “Callie — “

  “Did he find a hammer hidden in the woodshed?”

  “Callie.”

  “You know Reuben couldn’t have done this!” Callie actually stamped her foot.

  Deborah stepped forward and put her arm around Esther lest she collapse right there on Callie’s pavement. Though they’d known Reuben had been arrested and had talked about it at the house, to hear it coming out of Gavin’s mouth made it seem more real, more serious. “Adalyn will be there soon — “ Deborah said, trying to comfort Esther.

  “It’s good that Adalyn will help, but it won’t change the nature of the charge,” Gavin continued.

  Esther’s entire body had gone rigid, like ice had settled over her, and it worried Deborah more than if she’d broken into sobs. She glanced at Callie for help.

  But Callie was still trying to catch up, still looking from Deborah to Esther to Gavin, her head moving back and forth like a bird caught on a strong breeze.

  “What is an initial arraignment, Andrew?” Deborah kept her voice steady, aiming for optimism. “What does that mean?”

  “It’s a formal reading of the charges. The defendant — Reuben — is informed of his right to retain counsel.”

  “Adalyn.” Callie stepped closer to Deborah and Esther, finally seeming to grasp what was happening, and as she did, she joined them in this wave of trouble that was crashing toward them. “His counsel will be Adalyn.”

  “Yes, or he can choose someone with more criminal experience.”

  “Then what happens?” Deborah wanted it out, wanted the worst of it right now.

  “The judge will decide whether to set bail, and if so, what amount. In this case, I wouldn’t expect it. That’s only my opinion though, and Shane would have my head if he even knew
I was talking to you about a pending case.”

  “Why wouldn’t the judge set bail?” Callie sounded calmer now, but still offended, as if it were all some giant mistake.

  Deborah wasn’t entirely clear on what bail meant, though she understood it had to do with money, and money wouldn’t be a problem. Family and friends would provide whatever money Reuben needed.

  “I can’t say any more.” Gavin’s radio squawked once, and he reached to answer it. When he’d clipped it back to his belt, he turned again to Esther. “I’m sorry I don’t have better news. The judge wasn’t scheduled to be here again until Friday, but she’s coming in early for the initial arraignment. She’ll be here Thursday morning.”

  “Thank you, Andrew.” Callie looked as if she wanted to say more, even reached out to stop him, but then drew her hand back. Instead she herded the children into the shop, Max trotting along beside them, while Deborah helped Esther.

  What was it that Shane Black had learned? What terrible evidence had he found that would convince a judge that Reuben needed to stay in the Englisch jail? And did this mean Esther was right? Would Tobias want to postpone the wedding?

  Reuben gazed down at his handcuffed hands. The confines of being arrested still surprised him, even after two days. He woke in the morning and expected to be able to walk out to the fields and do his day’s work.

  Being idle was difficult.

  His arms were large, powerful.

  He tugged on the chains once, then again, causing them to rattle. It seemed as though he should be able to break the thin bands of metal, but of course they didn’t give at all.

  The Englischers had done their job well.

  “Reuben, are you listening to me?” Adalyn Landt leaned across the table. She was a big woman, reminding him some of his own mamm — gray hair pulled back in a bun, thick through the waist, tallish, and no nonsense about her. There the similarities ended though. Adalyn wore a dark blue business suit with a bit of orange trim, light makeup, and her mannerisms were all Englisch.