“It’s sounds very nineteenth century and very much like the boardinghouse Margot mentioned.”

  She smiled. “Well, wouldn’t Englischers say that about most of Amish life?”

  That was a good point. “Anyway, I know he lives in the bunkhouse because I heard him talk about it at church. This was before I left the district. He had just finished school and was striking off on his own. He was proud of his independence and would tell anyone who listened.”

  I had to remind myself that when Amish talk about finishing school, they didn’t mean they were eighteen and done with high school. When Leon struck out on his own as Charlotte described, he would have been only fourteen. I couldn’t imagine it at all. When I was fourteen, I couldn’t have taken care of myself. I didn’t know many English who could.

  “Isn’t that young to be out on your own, even for the Amish?”

  Charlotte nodded. “I thought it was very young, but he seemed happy about it.”

  Was he happy because he was getting away from his reclusive father? There was only one way to find out, and that was to ask Leon himself. “Let’s go. This might be a good time to drop in on him because Leon will be headed home for dinner.”

  Charlotte ran upstairs to grab her coat and tell Maami that she was going to “run errands” with me. Even though I wasn’t there when she spoke to Maami, I didn’t for a second believe my grandmother thought that was what we were doing. She knew I was trying to find out who’d killed Blaze, and she knew that Charlotte liked to be my sidekick whenever she could.

  A few minutes later, Charlotte and I climbed into my car just as snow began to fall in earnest. Charlotte shivered and snuggled into the passenger seat. “I don’t know that I’m ready for winter.”

  I glanced at her as I drove away from the square and passed Harvest Market. “I thought you loved Christmas.”

  “I do love Christmas. I do.” She blushed. “It was last Christmas when I learned that Luke cared about me.”

  I smiled at the memory. “It was very sweet how he told you.”

  She laughed. “Ya, but I’m not looking forward to the new year because I promised Luke we could get married next year. I’m not sure I’m ready.”

  I raised my brow. “Are you having second thoughts?”

  “Nee. Not about Luke. He’s the best person I have ever met.” She sighed as if she couldn’t believe her luck that such a man would care for her.

  “Then what’s the problem?” I turned up the car’s heater.

  “I’m just realizing that there is so much I don’t know about Englisch life and need to learn. I don’t know how to drive a car or use the computer properly or how to dress.” She waved at her long skirt. “I mean, you would never be caught dead in this.”

  “I’ve worn a long skirt before.”

  “When? I’ve seen you in a skirt maybe four times, and they were never long.”

  “It’s more comfortable to make candy in jeans. Do you want me to take you to Canton so we can go clothes shopping? It’s something we could do on a Sunday when the shop is closed.”

  “I’d like that, but it’s going to feel weird to wear jeans.” She lowered her voice. “But I really want to.”

  I chuckled. “You’ll get used to it, and you’ll be able to learn all those things. Personally, I think driving a horse and buggy is a lot harder than a car. You don’t know what the horse will do if it gets spooked.”

  She looked down at her puffy black winter coat and denim skirt. “But . . .”

  I shook my head. “When Luke fell in love with you, it wasn’t because you could drive or what you were wearing. It was because of who you are. But if you want to go on a shopping trip some Sunday, I would be more than happy to help you out. Honestly, I think Cass would fly in from New York for that. She would love to style you.”

  Her eyes went wide. “Cass is so cool looking. I could never dress like her.”

  “Not many people can, and I’m not saying you should dress like her. But she would have fun helping you find your own style. Besides, even she would know that her look wouldn’t work for you. All she wears is black and you’re not a black clothes person. You need brighter colors.”

  “I do like bright colors,” she admitted. “That was one of the hardest things about living in my home district—we always had to wear black or gray dresses. It was so depressing. I was glad that Cousin Clara’s district allowed more colors, but now that I’m Englisch, I’m overwhelmed by the fact that I can wear whatever I want.” She sighed. “I just want to be a gut wife to Luke, and there are so many things I feel I should know before we marry. I don’t want him to have to teach me everything. That could be frustrating for him and embarrassing for me.”

  “I’m sure Deputy Little just wants you to be happy. . . .” I trailed off as I drove out of town and saw a mostly empty lot to my left. The only structure on the lot was a ramshackle shed that appeared ready to cave in. There was a large “For Sale” sign on the edge of the unkempt, weed-ridden lot. I slowed the car. I had never noticed that sign before; it appeared to be new. At least it was in much better condition than the rest of the lot.

  Bright white snow in large flakes floated to the ground around the sign. Despite the disrepair, I could see potential here. My heart began to race.

  Charlotte looked around. “What are you doing? We aren’t even out of the village yet.”

  I pulled over to the side of the road and took a photograph of the sign, which included the Realtor’s name and phone number. I didn’t know if I would do anything with it, but it was a start. For the first time in weeks, I felt excited.

  “Why did you take a picture of that sign? Do you want to buy that place?”

  I pulled the car back onto the road. “No reason,” I said, keeping my eyes straight ahead.

  I felt Charlotte watching me. She didn’t believe me for a second.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  An Amish bunkhouse was a house. The home where Charlotte believed Leon was living looked to me like a very large farmhouse on a side street in Berlin. From the driveway, I could see U.S. Highway 62, the main road through the bustling tourist area of Berlin.

  Berlin was everything that Margot wanted Harvest to be. It had dozens of specialty shops and restaurants. Tourists walked up and down the sidewalks, loaded down with shopping bags as they looked for Amish Country souvenirs to take back home to friends and family. Despite today’s cold temperatures and falling snow, there were still a good number of stalwart shoppers moving up and down the street with their heads down and a determined set to their jaws.

  The bunkhouse was a large, two-story brick home. There was no sign outside announcing what it was. If I had been driving by it, I would have thought it was just any other single-family dwelling in Holmes County.

  “This is the place?” I asked Charlotte.

  She unfastened her seatbelt. “Yep.” She got out of the car.

  I did the same and followed her up the brick walk to the front door. Charlotte knocked, and a moment later, an elderly Amish man in overalls came to the door. He had a mug of hot chocolate in his hand.

  The hot chocolate was the perfect drink for the snowy weather. It wouldn’t be long before the green grass outside completely disappeared under a blanket of white.

  “What do you want?” He pointed toward businesses up the street. “All the shopping is up there. There’s nothing to buy here.” He started to close the door.

  I put my hand against the door to stop him. “Please, just one second. We didn’t come here to shop. We wanted to talk to one of the young men living in this bunkhouse.”

  “You can’t be talking to any of the Amish men living in this bunkhouse without talking to me first. I’m Jett. This is my place. I’m in charge here and I make the rules.”

  “Then can we speak to one of the young men with your permission?”

  He eyed us as he sipped his hot chocolate. “I’ve told the young men who live here that I won’t abide lady visitors. This is a place to sleep so that they can find work. There is no time for courting or any shenanigans here. I won’t hear of it.”

  “We aren’t lady visitors, or at least we aren’t lady visitors in the sense you imply. We’re here to talk to Leon Hersh. He has helped out with events on the Harvest Village square and we wanted to talk to him about his work there.”

  “Oh, why didn’t you say that you were here for Leon?” Jett’s demeanor completely changed. “He’s a gut one. I know that he wouldn’t be participating in any unseemly behavior.” He shook his head. “I can’t say the same for all the young men living here. At least once a month, I kick out a young guy for bad behavior. Just because a person is Amish doesn’t mean he will always do the right thing. These kids find their own kind of trouble, I can assure you of that.”

  I had found that to be true myself since I’d discovered a number of Amish killers. I didn’t say that to Jett though. He’d just passed his approval of us. I guessed that he would revoke it if I said that some Amish were killers.

  “Let me get him. I know it’s cold out, but I can’t let you inside. No women in the place. I have to stick to that rule for the young guys. Sometimes to keep youngsters in line, you have to keep the world black and white, so the gut and the bad are clear to them.”

  “We can wait here,” I said.

  Charlotte shivered next to me. “I hope we can find a warm spot to talk to Leon. I don’t want to stand out here. I’m freezing.”

  “I agree. We’ll go to the coffee shop if Leon agrees. It’s just around the corner.”

  “Oh!” Her eyes sparkled. “I love that place. It’s where Luke took me on our first official date. It will always have a special place in my heart.”

  I smiled.

  The front door opened again, and Leon stepped out. He wore a thick winter coat and a pronounced frown.

  Jett patted him on the shoulder. “Now, don’t be too long, Leon. You know curfew for the house has been moved up to nine because of how dark it is getting at night.” He looked at Charlotte and me. “Nothing gut ever happens after sunset. That’s when all the trouble comes out. People, and when I say people here, I mean Englischers, would do well to remember that.” With that he closed the door.

  “Why are you here?” Leon asked, speaking for the first time.

  “We’re here because we want to talk to you about Blaze.”

  “Maybe I don’t want to talk to you or anyone else about that. I’m tired of talking about it.” He wouldn’t meet my eyes. “I don’t know anything.”

  “All right, but did you know Blaze is also your uncle Marvin?”

  He stared at me. “What?” All of the color drained from his face.

  Charlotte flipped her braid over her shoulder and peered at Leon as if he was a challenging candy recipe. “Are you going to be sick?”

  He breathed in and out through his mouth. “Nee. I don’t think so. I need to sit down, and we can’t go into the bunkhouse. No women allowed.”

  “We know,” I said. “Jett was very clear on the rules. Let’s just walk up the block here. There’s a little coffeehouse on the corner. We will get you something hot for dinner and you can collect yourself.”

  He nodded silently, and not for the first time I was reminded of how young he was. Leon Hersh was only fifteen. In the Amish world that meant he was a grown adult who should be making a living and trying new things in rumspringa—the Amish “running around time” when young Amish men and women decided if they wanted to join the church or leave forever.

  Charlotte didn’t make that decision about leaving the church until she was twenty-two. That was an extremely long time for an Amish young person to take to make such an important decision, but it could take several years.

  However, instead of sowing wild oats, as it were, Leon was working multiple jobs and doing his best to get a full-time gig as the caretaker of Harvest’s village square. What had happened in his young life to make him so serious? Was that just the way he was or was it his upbringing? These were important questions but not ones that I was going to bring up with Leon, who likely would have no use for the nature-versus-nurture debate.

  Leon shoved his gloveless hands into the deep pockets of his coat, pulled the wide brim of his black felt hat down over his eyes, and followed Charlotte up the sidewalk.

  I brought up the rear.

  When we reached the coffeehouse, Leon scurried ahead of Charlotte to open and hold the door for us. Inside, the room smelled like cinnamon, coffee, and herbs. There were people eating and chatting at the small café tables and on the wide leather couches. Everyone in the room was Englisch except for the three baristas working at the counter, who were young Amish women, probably not much older than Leon.

  “There’s hardly anywhere to sit. I’ll hold us a table,” Charlotte said. “Bailey, can you get me a red velvet mocha?” She hurried over to the open table by the window.

  I glanced at Leon. “What would you like? Get whatever you want.”

  He stared at the menu and bit his lip.

  “Get anything you like,” I encouraged him. “Just tell the barista.”

  Leon moved up to the counter. “Hello.”

  The girl behind the counter smiled encouragingly at him.

  “Can I have a large caramel mocha, and a grilled cheese sandwich with chips?” He glanced back at me as if to ask whether it was okay.

  I smiled and nodded. Then I put in the order for Charlotte’s red velvet mocha and ordered a latte with cream and sugar for myself.

  After I paid, the barista said she would bring the drinks to our table just as soon as they were ready. Leon and I joined Charlotte at the table.

  Charlotte sighed. “This is the table where Luke and I sat for our first date.”

  I smiled at her daydreaming face and prayed she would never lose her sense of wonder over being in love. I wasn’t sure that I’d ever had that. It wasn’t my personality to look through rose-colored glasses, much as I wished it could be at times. Being skeptical could be exhausting.

  Leon removed his hat and held it in his lap. “I’m not sure why the two of you want to talk to me about Blaze—I mean my uncle.” He licked his lips. “And I didn’t know he was my uncle when he died, I promise you that.”

  I sat across from Leon, and Charlotte sat between us.

  “The thing is, Leon,” I began, “Margot is in trouble, and I think you want to help Margot because you want her to give you the caretaker job on the square. If you help her out, I bet it will go a long way toward your getting that job.”

  “Margot is scary, but ya, I want that job. I like working outside and taking care of plants. I’ve always liked the events that she plans for the square—except this last one because of the dead man.”

  “Great,” I said. “Then tell us what you know about what happened on Thanksgiving Day.”

  Again, he looked as if he might be ill. I was becoming increasingly concerned for Leon’s health. It seemed that he could go from pale to dead white in a matter of seconds.

  Just when I thought he was going to finally open up, the barista arrived with our drinks and Leon’s food.

  “Oh,” Charlotte said. “There is a little Christmas tree design in the foam on all our drinks. That’s so clever.”

  Leon looked from Charlotte to me and back again. “How did you find me?” His voice was on the edge of panic.

  “I overheard at church one day where you were living,” Charlotte said in a matter-of-fact way. “It was a while ago, but I thought you might still be here and it was the best place to start looking.”

  He slumped in his chair without touching his drink. “I’m not going to get away with this, am I?”

  I leaned forward. “Get away with what?”

  He met my gaze and there were tears in his dark eyes. “With killing a man.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Charlotte’s hand hit her mug and some of the mocha sloshed out. Thankfully, she caught it before the hot liquid covered the table. “Are you saying you’re a murderer!”

  “Charlotte,” I hissed. “We’re in public.”

  She clapped a hand over her mouth, and then looked around the room as if to see whether anyone had overheard her outburst.

  I turned my attention to Leon. “What do you mean when you say that, Leon? You shouldn’t make a statement like that lightly.”

  “I don’t make it lightly. Trust me. I don’t. But it’s the truth, and something that I will have to live with the rest of my life.” His face fell. “I’ll go to prison like my father did and turn out just like him. I left home because I wanted to make something of myself. I didn’t want to follow in his footsteps, but that’s what I’m doing.”

  “Do you know how Blaze died?” I asked, calling the dead man Blaze because I thought if I reminded Leon again that the dead man was his uncle, he would go into a complete tailspin.

  He swallowed. “He ate the church spread I put in his marshmallow fluff.”

  I stared at him. “You did that?”

  He nodded and stared down at his hat. “I’m a criminal just like my father.”

  “You wanted to kill him?” Charlotte asked.

  “Nee! Nee, I never would want to hurt anyone, but I followed the directions given to me. . . .”

  “Whose directions?” I asked.

  He looked me in the eye. “Margot’s.”

  I blinked. “What? You’re telling me that Margot asked you to kill Blaze?”

  He shook his head. “Not directly.”

  “It seems to me that asking someone to kill a person is a pretty direct request,” Charlotte said, gripping her mug.

  He shook his head. “I told you that Margot asked me to take care of her mother and her mother’s boyfriend on Thanksgiving Day. It was my job to make sure they were happy and to keep them away from Margot as much as possible. I was supposed to do whatever they requested. When they arrived at the Thanksgiving Day meal, Blaze gave me a two-page document of all their requests for the day. It included where they wanted to sit, that Zara would have a pillow, that there had to be another chair and pillow for her nasty little dog. Those were just some of the items on the list. There were many more things on the list. Buried in that very long list was an item that read, ‘Put one teaspoon of church spread in Blaze’s marshmallow fluff and stir thoroughly.’ Blaze gave me the fluff and asked me to place it by his seat. He said he didn’t want anyone else touching it except me.”