“It can’t,” I said. “I know that it’s a terrible time, but I have to go.”

  She slid a tray of pumpkin fudge into the display case and asked under her breath, “Are you meeting someone about Blaze?”

  I wrinkled my nose.

  She straightened up. “I knew it! I knew it!”

  “Shh. Now, I really have to go or I’ll be late.”

  “Fine! Go! But you’d better tell me everything when you get back.”

  I slipped into the empty kitchen. For once, everyone was at the front of the shop selling candies instead of two people upfront selling and two people in back making.

  I went out the back door into the alley behind the shop. Here there was a small horse shed where Maami kept her horse and buggy. Although the horse shed was technically hers, she let other Amish park their horses and buggies there to keep them out of the wind and rain in bad weather. Esther’s horse was in the shed next to my grandmother’s.

  I glanced at the back door of the pretzel shop. If I had more time, I would have asked her what was going on with Abel, but there was no time. Even if I asked, I didn’t know that she would tell me. Esther and I had reached a truce for Emily’s sake, but I would never say we were friends. We were more like civil acquaintances.

  I slipped between the buildings and was able to make it across Main Street while the crowd in front of my shop was distracted by Jethro. That pig really knew how to hold a crowd.

  The square was busy too. Shoppers sat on the benches, and children ran around doing cartwheels in the grass. It was hard to believe that there was a promise of snow before the weekend was over.

  The Sunbeam Café was the newest business around the village square, and it was the first one completely owned and operated by a non-Amish family. Until I came to the village, only Amish worked on the square. As to be expected, Ruth Yoder blamed me for starting this non-Amish trend on the square. She often pointed out that my arrival in Harvest had led to a lot of changes in the makeup of the community. There were more English businesses and more English working in Amish-owned businesses. However, most of the buildings and businesses in the small downtown area of Harvest were Amish-owned and operated. Ruth wanted them all to be.

  To the right of the Sunbeam Café was Juliet’s church, the small cemetery next to it, and the playground. The playground had received a facelift last year with money raised from events held on the village square and organized by Margot.

  A dozen children, both Amish and English, locals and tourists, played on the new swing set, jungle gym, and teeter-totters while their parents and grandparents looked on. It was a perfect example of some of the good that Margot was doing in the village. I made a mental note to point that out to her mother. As of yet, Zara seemed underwhelmed with Margot’s accomplishments.

  On the side of the café that faced the playground there was a giant yellow sun mural. It made me smile. A brightly colored mural wasn’t something you’d typically see in Amish Country, but for Darcy Woodin’s business it was a perfect fit.

  I stepped into the café and saw it was packed. I should have expected as much. All the restaurants and cafés around the county would be busy today with the beginning of the holiday shopping season. Also, the village of Sugarcreek, which wasn’t that far away, always held its annual Christmas parade on Black Friday. There would be a lot of visitors in the area just for that, and they all were hungry. The main tourist activity when coming to Amish Country was eating the food, and even though Darcy didn’t serve Amish fare, her business still did very well, especially when tourists were in Holmes County for a long stay and wanted a break from the heavy Amish food.

  To my left there was a blue shelf filled with brightly colored teapots and teacups. Ahead of me was the counter. The three stools at the counter were full and behind it, Lois refilled a coffee pot from a massive machine. A small, open window allowed me to look into the back kitchen. I saw Darcy’s blond curls move rapidly around the kitchen as she did her very best to fill the orders for the breakfast rush.

  I realized this was the worst possible time for Zara and me to meet in the café. It would be crowded and loud, and Lois and Darcy couldn’t afford to lose a table if we stayed too long.

  To my right was the main dining area. There were three small tables by the large front window, and the rest were peppered around the room. There were at least two people at every table I could see. Coming here had been a very bad idea.

  “Bailey!” Lois pointed a stack of menus at me. “She’s in the back corner.”

  I didn’t bother to ask Lois how she knew who I was looking for. I wove through the tables, apologizing to the people I bumped. In the very back corner, Zara sat with a cup of black coffee, petting her tiny puffball of a dog. I immediately got the image of Cruella De Vil.

  “Bailey, you’re late,” she said, looking up at me.

  “I’m sorry. It was difficult to break away from the shop. It’s a busy day.”

  “Yes, you’ve told me that before.” She frowned. “Don’t just stand there staring at me. Have a seat. I don’t care for being loomed over.”

  I slipped into the wooden chair.

  She set her purse with the dog inside it on the chair between us. Her nondescript puffball of a dog stuck his head out of the bag. I started to pet him but he nipped at me. Well, I supposed it was nice to know where I stood with Gator. He certainly had the perfect name.

  “Gator,” Zara said. “Don’t go trying to bite people. I don’t want to be sued.”

  It was interesting that she was concerned about possible lawsuits rather than someone being hurt. However, I imagined that Gator would bite if he felt the urge so it didn’t matter what Zara said to him.

  “I took the liberty of ordering us both coffees. I told the waitress that you were coming and to bring whatever you usually order.”

  At that moment, Lois appeared at the side of the table with a coffee loaded with cream and sugar for me and another black coffee for Zara. As she stepped away with her empty tray, she raised her brow at me as if to ask what was going on.

  I wished I knew. I gave the slightest shrug. “Thank you for the coffee, Zara. That was nice of you.” I wrapped my cold fingers around the warm mug.

  “That’s the least I can do since you are going to find the person who killed my Blaze.”

  The coffee mug was a millimeter from my lips. I lowered it. “I’m what?”

  “Don’t play coy with me. I know you must have already put feelers out about the case, and I know that you’re friendly with my daughter. I assume she asked for your help as well.”

  I didn’t say anything because, yes, Margot had asked. She’d pleaded, actually. I knew I had no choice but to help Margot, not just because I knew her, but because I honestly believed that she hadn’t committed this crime. But I didn’t say anything like that to her mother.

  “Why do you think your fiancé was killed when his death hasn’t yet been ruled as a murder?”

  “Oh, but it has.”

  I stared at her.

  She smiled. “I thought you would have known since you are supposed to be such a talented sleuth, but it seems I will just have to take the time to tell you.”

  I wrapped my hands around my mug again to keep them warm and safely away from Gator, who was eyeing my right pinkie with worrisome intensity.

  “The lab tested Blaze’s food. There were small traces of peanut on his plate. Now before you ask, there were no peanuts in anyone else’s food. Someone added the peanut to Blaze’s food on purpose.”

  This was news to me. But with hindsight, I could envision Deputy Little going over to the church to retrieve samples from all of the serving dishes to test the food for the allergen.

  “What were the dishes that contained peanuts?” I asked.

  She ticked them off on her fingers. “The sweet potatoes and the sweet roll. Blaze had put marshmallow on both of those.”

  When she mentioned the sweet roll, I immediately thought about what Margot had told me. She had seen traces of peanut butter spread on Blaze’s sweet roll. I also noted that the two dishes Zara mentioned were very sweet. Add to that the sweetness of the marshmallow, and it was possible all that sugar had masked the peanut flavor. If Blaze’s allergy was as severe as he’d told me, it wouldn’t take much to cause a deadly reaction in him.”

  “That doesn’t sound coincidental.”

  “It wasn’t,” Zara said, leaving no room for argument. “Whoever did this was thorough. They were determined that Blaze would have a reaction. I would even go as far as to say that it was premeditated murder.”

  I shivered.

  “So I have asked the sheriff to declare it a homicide case.” She frowned. “It’s quite unfortunate that the county has too little foresight to stop electing Jackson Marshall as the county sheriff. I knew him when he was a new deputy. He was incompetent then, and I can’t see much changing in that regard. Since I don’t trust the man, I have also called in some favors from the local BCI office. I asked if they would be willing to assist on the case.”

  Now I knew why Aiden was asked to stay in Harvest to assist with the case. Normally, this case would fall under the jurisdiction of the Holmes County Sheriff Department; BCI would only be involved if the investigation crossed county lines or if the sheriff’s department requested assistance. Sheriff Marshall would never have asked for help, and must have been livid at the idea of BCI’s involvement. To make matters worse, it was Aiden they’d assigned to the case.

  She eyed me. “I assume that you know the BCI agent on the case.” She raised her brow. “There was talk that he spent last night with you.”

  I felt my skin flush, but I wasn’t surprised Penny had already gotten my private life onto the village grapevine. The best way to deal with such gossip was to ignore it.

  “If you have the sheriff’s department and BCI on the case, why do you want my help? It seems to me you have it covered.”

  She set her mug back on the table. “I am a firm believer in working every angle. There are things that only you can find out, especially when reaching out to the Amish. You must remember I was an attorney and judge in Holmes County for a very long time. I know how this place works. If the Amish don’t want to tell you something, they won’t. They clam up as soon as a person in uniform knocks on their door.” She sat back in her seat. “But you are different. With your sweet face, bright eyes, and Amish grandmother to back you up, you can go places law enforcement can’t.

  “I’m not a fool,” she said. “The case is going to be solved in those places where law enforcement can’t go, which is why I’m asking you to intervene.”

  “This makes me think you believe that someone Amish is involved in Blaze’s death.”

  “I don’t think it. I know it.”

  “How?” I asked. “He didn’t have any connection to the Amish.”

  “Oh, Blaze’s death had nothing to do with who he was. He was killed to hurt me.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “To hurt you?” I asked.

  Gator growled under his breath as if to say, “How dare you question my mistress?”

  As far as guard dogs went, he was the fiercest I had ever come across, and I’d much rather be sitting next to a pit bull right now than Gator, the indecipherable fluff ball.

  She sniffed, and I thought for a moment I saw an actual tear in her eye. Just as quickly as it came, that moment passed. “It’s revenge for the many times I sentenced Amish men while I was on the bench. Everyone that I sent to prison was guilty and deserved the punishment they received. But when I came back to the village, it was time to get their revenge. They took it. In a way, I can appreciate the Amish ability to hold a grudge.”

  “Why not kill you then?” I asked.

  She snorted a laugh. “Would that really hurt me? I’m eighty-six years old. I’m in good health for my age, but I don’t kid myself into thinking that I have decades left to live. So killing me wouldn’t hurt me. Not like taking something I loved away from me. Now I will have to live the rest of my life without Blaze.”

  I wanted to ask her if she really loved Blaze, but that seemed rude. Even though Zara had been nothing but rude to me, I couldn’t return the favor.

  “Okay. Why do the Amish want to hurt you? I know you believe it’s because you were a judge, but do you have specifics? Are there names of people you believe were the angriest at you?” I asked the question in a low voice. Even though most of the diners looked like tourists, you could never be too careful. There was nothing a villager, either English or Amish, liked more than to listen to gossip. Whatever was overheard would be news in the village in a matter of minutes. The fact that Penny had seen Aiden at my house very early this morning and that Zara already knew about it was proof of that.

  Which made me think that perhaps Zara was sending a message by having me meet her here. Hmmm.

  “I heard you were tougher on the Amish in court than you were on the English.”

  “I wasn’t. I was tough on everyone. I had to be. I was the first woman judge in the county. Everyone was expecting me to be soft. It was a different time than it is now. The only way to advance was to prove you could be as strong as any man, stronger really. You had to make up for being female, which immediately put your abilities in question. You had to be tough back then to make it in a man’s world. Women today complain and whine over how bad they have it. They have no idea. None.” She slapped her hand on the table. “They would curl up and die if they knew the sacrifices women before them had to make to give them the privilege to whine about the tough lives they lead now. They need to learn self-reliance. As for the Amish and their arcane and juvenile beliefs, I have no use for them.”

  I believed in self-reliance too. I was self-made in my way, but I didn’t believe in stepping on others to reach the top. I didn’t believe in belittling someone’s belief system and calling it arcane and juvenile just because I didn’t agree with it. I didn’t agree with everything the Amish taught. Parts of their doctrine made me uncomfortable. I didn’t like that women couldn’t hold leadership roles. I didn’t like that one man got to make the decisions for the group. But I did respect them. I respected the fact that every Amish person had the choice to leave their faith. I respected how hard that must be. I had just witnessed Charlotte navigate that struggle and it had been painful to watch her feel torn between the life she had always known and the life she wanted to gain her own independence and the man she loved.

  “I was married at eighteen,” she went on. “Pregnant at twenty. By twenty-one, I knew that was not the life I wanted. In truth, I knew at eighteen. I left Margot’s father. She should be happy I didn’t leave her with him. I could have. He was a terrible man.”

  If Margot’s father was so terrible, why would Zara even entertain the thought of leaving her child with him? Inwardly, I filed away these details. My opinion of Zara wasn’t terribly high, and while I’d tried to stay objective when the other villagers had spoken negatively about her, it was hard not to have an unpleasant view of the woman despite all her accomplishments. She wasn’t particularly kind.

  “Trying to put myself through college and law school as a single mother was near impossible, but it was my firm belief that I could do it. No one cares more about your career than you do. No one. Not your mother. Not your partner. Not the God the Amish speak about so often. If you want to go anywhere, you have to take yourself there. I’m living proof of that. Do you think anyone helped me along the way?”

  I could certainly see how the difficulties of her life had made Zara hard, and maybe it was the reason she was so tough on her daughter too. She knew that to advance she needed to be strong, so she wanted Margot to be strong. I could see the signs of that childrearing in Margot today. She was certainly able to manage a crowd with confidence and she made her voice heard, but Margot didn’t have the hard edges that her mother did.

  I wondered if that was because of their different life experiences. Zara went into the world of law, and Margot chose family and the world of a community organizer.

  “As for the Amish,” Zara went on. “It may appear that I was tougher on them because I went into each case assuming that they were not saints. Too many people think they are automatically good because they are Christian and are so pious. There are a lot of pious people in this world who do terrible things. The Amish are no different. In my opinion, saints are a myth. I have seen too many Amish cases that involve domestic abuse, drugs, drunk driving . . . you name it. It makes you believe there is no good left in the world.”

  I could see how she would feel jaded, but that made me sad for her too. If you saw absolutely no good in the world, then what would be the point of living at all? Why on earth would you think that your small life could make a difference?

  I had seen the dark underbelly of the Amish and the English too in recent years. I knew murderers. I had looked them in the eye and seen no light there, but I still saw good everywhere else. I had to believe in the good to keep my sanity and know that, by helping everyone I could, my own life wasn’t being wasted.

  Some of her tough veneer began to crack. “It’s why I got out. I was old enough to retire, and I am good at investing. I had created a nice little nest egg for myself by taking the right amount of risk. After my last term was up, I didn’t run for judge again. I packed up my bags and moved to Florida. I didn’t expect to find good people there either, but I found sunshine and snowless winters. That was enough for me for my twilight years.” She took a breath. “And then I met Blaze, and things changed. I thought I’d finally found someone who cared about me.” She looked away.

  I made a gesture to reach out and touch her hand, but Gator jumped up on his chair and growled at me. He bared his pointy little white teeth. The image of a fluffy piranha in a feeding frenzy came to mind.

  I pulled my hand back. “I’m very sorry for your loss.”

  She shook her head, and when she looked back at me again, her eyes were clear. “I should have anticipated something like this.” She opened her purse and pulled out a piece of paper. “But since I was a fool for not seeing what was coming, I won’t be a fool now and let Sheriff Marshall fumble through this investigation. I trust that you and your BCI boyfriend can find the killer.”