He licked his lip. “It will be the first case I have conducted completely solo. I mean, other than a traffic stop. Deputy Brody told me this was my chance to show the sheriff what I can do. If it goes well, I have a chance at a promotion. Do you think the sheriff’s mother will turn in a bad report about me?”

  “You let her leave,” I said. “There’s no reason for her to say anything to the sheriff about you.” In my head, I thought if the sheriff’s mother was anything like her son, she wouldn’t need much of a reason to speak ill of someone.

  “Would you like a little bit of help from me?” I offered.

  “I don’t think that’s what Deputy Brody meant when he said he wanted me to take this case alone.”

  “You know that I know Aiden well, and I’m certain what he meant was no other help from the department. Help from me doesn’t count, and I can look for the Amish woman.” I smiled and tried to look as helpful as possible.

  “Well, I suppose you do have more access to Amish women than I do.” He blushed. “I only mean that you know more of them, and they will talk to you. I know the Amish are not fond of law enforcement.”

  “You’re right about that.”

  He pressed his lips together as he thought it over.

  “It will be our little secret, Deputy,” I said. “Don’t worry about it at all. Aiden never has to know.”

  The beads of sweat that gathered on his forehead said he was worried, and I was kidding myself. Of course Aiden would find out. He always did, but if I could find the Amish woman before that, all the better.

  After my conversation with Deputy Little, the young deputy moved around the fellowship hall and spoke with each of the women. After he’d spoken to them, the women were free to go. Maami and Charlotte went back to Swissmen Sweets to help Emily shut up the store. The ladies from the church began to clean up the tables one by one. It was sad that such a wonderful event had ended on such a low note. Polly Anne was surely shaken up by it, as she sat next to her friend Linda, who was patting her hand. “The police will find the money. Don’t you worry about it.”

  Polly Anne nodded dumbly. By the look of it, shock had set in. I wanted to ask Linda how she was so certain, but Juliet beat me to it. “You don’t worry about it at all. My Aiden will get to the bottom of this, and he has Bailey to help. No crime goes unsolved with the two of them on the case.” She looked at me. “Bailey will find out what happened to the money.”

  I pointed at my chest with my brow up way past my hairline. “Me?”

  Juliet nodded. “Of course, it’s what you do. You find the bad guy.”

  Jethro, who was in her arms, grunted as if he agreed with that assessment.

  “Bailey, what on earth have you been up to since you moved to Harvest?” my mother wanted to know. “Why does Juliet think you can find out who stole the money? You make candy.”

  “You didn’t know that Bailey solves murders?” Juliet asked, as if this were a fact everyone on the planet was aware of.

  “What?” My mother shouted almost as loudly as Polly Anne had when she’d discovered the money was missing.

  I jumped out of my seat. “I’m going to help the ladies clean up.” I hurried into the church kitchen. Maybe I was a coward, but a conversation about murder wasn’t something I wanted to have with my mother right then, if ever.

  Chapter Six

  I realized after I left the church that I’d forgotten to tell Deputy Little about the argument Polly Anne had had with whoever was in the hallway right before the tea began. I frowned. Would it make a difference? I knew Polly Anne hadn’t stolen the money; the money was for her farm. Then again, why was I making that assumption? I knew nothing about her except what I’d gleaned in those few hours before and during the tea. Maybe, just maybe, she’d stolen the money for her own use. Maybe she did want the farm to close, so she could take the money and run instead of being stuck with the farm. I imagined it was hard work, and emotional work at that. The women who came under her care arrived with a lot of baggage and problems. After some time, maybe Polly Anne had realized that it was too much for her to handle, or it reminded her too much of her daughter.

  Then I thought about the heartfelt speech she’d given. I couldn’t imagine her abandoning a cause that she’d created in honor of her daughter. Perhaps I was giving her too much benefit of the doubt, but I couldn’t see her being that sneaky. At the same time, I couldn’t rule it out completely.

  “Bailey, can I talk to you a minute?”

  I turned around and saw my mother marching across the parking lot toward me. “Mom, I thought you went back to your hotel.”

  My parents were staying at one of the large Amish hotels on Route 39. It was just a short drive from Harvest and had all the amenities they needed, but at the same time it wasn’t like the places my parents usually vacationed, with spas and private chefs. But it was the best I could do in Holmes County, and it was better than their staying in my little rental house. I had a two bedroom, but only one double bed and a lumpy loveseat, on which it was terribly uncomfortable to sleep. I knew this from firsthand experience.

  “I was just about to leave, but I wanted to talk to you. What is all this I’m hearing about murders and you helping the police?”

  “There have been a few.” I gave her a very condensed version of the crimes I’d solved and how Amish people had disclosed vital details to me.

  “But you’re not Amish,” she said.

  I frowned. “I know that, but Maami is.”

  “So Clara condones this?” Mom folded her arms. “I wouldn’t have expected that from her. Doesn’t she know the risks you are taking?”

  I frowned. “I don’t think Maami is encouraging me to do this. I’m an adult. She knows I only want to help.”

  “Help Aiden?” my mother asked. “He’s a sheriff’s deputy. He should be able to handle himself.”

  I nodded at her. “He can, and he does an excellent job, but because of my connection to the Amish, he can resolve cases much more quickly with my help.”

  “What does Aiden think of this? Does he approve of your helping?”

  Despite myself, I made a face.

  She nodded. “See? He doesn’t like it. Aiden seems like a wonderful young man. Do you really want to put that relationship in jeopardy?”

  I stared at her.

  “Susan, Bailey,” Juliet called as she hurried down the front steps of the church. “I’m so glad I caught you. I wanted to invite both of you and Bailey’s father to my home for a Mother’s Day brunch after church tomorrow. Of course, Charlotte and Clara are welcome too.”

  “That’s very kind of you, Juliet,” I said. “They might be able to come. I don’t think they have church tomorrow.” The Amish met formally for church every other Sunday. The off Sunday was meant to be a family day of devotions and prayers at home.

  “Wonderful!” Juliet clapped her hands. “And it will give us all time to visit as a family.”

  This sounded like a very bad idea.

  My mother accepted Juliet’s invitation on her and my father’s behalf, and then said she was going back to the hotel to relax. My father was there. I guessed that he had spent the day working out in the hotel gym. My father was a fitness fanatic. I could safely say that trait had not rubbed off on me.

  I said goodbye to Mom and Juliet and tried not to worry about the fact that they continued to chat after I reached the square. I sensed some plotting going on, and I knew it had to do with Aiden and me.

  I put my mother and Juliet out of my head. If they wanted to scheme, that was up to them. I was more worried about the missing money.

  My phone rang in my pocket. I looked at the screen. It was a number I didn’t recognize, but it had a Holmes County area code. Usually I let calls like that go to voicemail because they were thinly veiled telemarketers, but this time something told me to answer. “Hello?”

  “Hello, is this Bailey?”

  “Yes,” I said slowly. I was ready to hang up before the person on the other end could try to sell me an extended warranty on my car.

  “Bailey, this is Polly Anne from Abigail’s Farm.” Her voice was breathless.

  “Oh,” I said, surprised. “Hello, Polly Anne.”

  “I hope it’s okay that Juliet gave me your number.”

  “Yes, it’s fine. Is everything all right?” I paused. “I mean, I know that everything is not all right, but did something else happen?”

  “No, but many of the women at the tea said that you could help me find the money. I was wondering if you’d be willing. I just don’t know what will happen to the farm without those funds.” She sounded as if she would burst into tears at any moment.

  “Do you know anyone who would have a reason to take the money from you?” I asked. “Does anyone have a grudge against the farm?”

  She gasped. “You think this was an act of sabotage against Abigail’s Farm and not a random act of thievery?”

  “I don’t know, but your farm is the best place to start.” What I didn’t tell her was if it was a random act, it would be near impossible to find out who’d taken the money. We’d have much better luck finding out who’d done this if they had some kind of connection to Abigail’s Farm. I supposed the other angle I could look at was the church.

  Polly Anne didn’t speak for a long while. “Polly Anne, are you still there?” I asked.

  “Yes, I’m still here. I do know one person who would want the farm to close. I hate to even mention it. I don’t want to get anyone in trouble.”

  “But you want the money back?” I said.

  “Yes, of course I want the money back. I need it to run the farm. The women here need it.”

  “Who is this person?” I asked.

  She was quiet for a moment. “I think it would be easier to explain if you came to the farm and saw for yourself.”

  I bit the inside of my lip. “When would you like me to come?”

  “Now, if you could.”

  I thought about this for a minute. No one needed me at the moment. My parents had gone to their hotel for the evening. Swissmen Sweets was closed. Aiden was working on a case. “I can come now,” I said.

  “Oh, would you?” She let out a breath as if she had been holding it for a very long time. “That would be a great relief. I think if you saw what we do here you’d see why getting this money back is so important.”

  I asked for the address and told her I would be there as quickly as I could. I wasn’t sure how Deputy Little would feel about my going to Abigail’s Farm, but I had told him that I would help with the Amish angle on this case, and that’s what I meant to do.

  Chapter Seven

  The drive from my little rental house in Harvest to Abigail’s Farm took longer than I anticipated. The farm was off the main county highway, along a gravel road tucked in a valley between a set of rolling hills. As my car bumped along the road, I kept a lookout for a sign that might tell me I was going the right way, but there were none, not even the standard Amish buggy sign found on every road in the county. A white frame house that sat back from the road came into view. Freshly plowed fields surrounded it on three sides. The electrical line leading to the house told me it was an English home, but I knew it wasn’t Abigail’s Farm, because Polly Anne had told me to look for a giant gray barn. She said I couldn’t miss it.

  I passed the white house and drove another half mile before I saw the barn off in the distance. She was right. It was hard to miss, and I was relieved to have spotted it. I was beginning to wonder if my GPS had led me astray. It had been known to happen in Holmes County, where directions were usually given by locals, in relation to where an oak had been struck by lightning or where an old schoolhouse once stood.

  If I needed more confirmation that I was in the right place, Polly Anne stood in the middle of the yard. I turned into her driveway and got out. There was a modest sign along the road that read “Abigail’s Farm,” but the sign gave no indication that the farm had anything to do with women struggling with addiction.

  The front of the house was a massive garden. Petunias, rhododendron, hydrangeas, and tulips were all in bloom as early spring flowers gave way to late spring flowers. There was a young woman in a large-brimmed sun hat weeding the garden. She had headphones in her ears and appeared perfectly content with her task.

  Polly Anne nodded at the woman. “She’s one of our current residents. She loves gardening. I’ve encouraged her to look for work at a greenhouse after she leaves the farm. I offered to write a recommendation.” Tears sprang to her eyes. “I just can’t believe I won’t be able to help more women like her after what happened today.”

  “We don’t know that for sure. We could find the money,” I said, and patted her shoulder.

  “To find the money would be some kind of miracle.” She sniffed.

  I silently agreed with her. “On the phone, you wouldn’t tell me who might want to hurt you or the farm.”

  She swallowed. “It’s my neighbor.”

  “Your neighbor?” The only neighbor I’d heard of was Linda, the woman with a walker at this afternoon’s tea. Could Linda have stolen the money? I frowned. I didn’t think so. She had been sitting at my table, and she never got up. I realized that no one sitting at my table had ever gotten up. Did that mean they were all in the clear?

  She nodded. “My Amish neighbor.”

  As soon as she said that, I thought of the Amish woman I had seen at the tea, the one who had been shooting daggers at Polly Anne during her speech. “I passed another farm on the way here, but it looked English to me.”

  “Oh.” She shook her head. “That’s the Benson farm. You met my friend Linda at the tea today. The Bensons are perfect neighbors. I have no problem with them at all. The neighbors that I mean are the Mast family. They are south of Abigail’s Farm. If you passed the Benson home, you came from the north.”

  “I don’t think I know that family,” I said. I couldn’t remember my grandmother mentioning anyone with the last name of Mast in her church district.

  “They’re farmers,” she said. “The father is Samson Mast, and he has been upset with Abigail’s Farm from the very start.” She glanced behind her to make sure the woman working in the garden couldn’t hear. “He’s made it no secret that he doesn’t want a refuge like this so close to his property. He believes it’s bad for his children to live near Abigail’s Farm.” She put her hands on her hips. “I told him that he might as well move, because the farm isn’t going anywhere.”

  It sounded to me as if Samson Mast was a viable suspect indeed. There was another person I needed to ask about too. “Right before the tea began, I saw you having a heated discussion with someone in the hallway outside of the fellowship hall. Who was the person you were speaking to?”

  “I don’t know what that has to do with any of this,” she said.

  I cocked my head, surprised at her sharp tone. “It might have a lot to do with it, since the money was stolen less than two hours after that.”

  She pressed her lips together and then took a breath. “If you must know, it was one of the women here. I had given her a ride into the village. She said she wanted to do a little bit of shopping and just wanted to see Harvest while I was at the tea. Every once in a while, the women can leave the farm. They have to. If they don’t, how will they feel comfortable rejoining the rest of society? Anyway, when she asked if she could come with me to the village, I agreed.”

  “You brought her to the village,” I said. “Why wasn’t she at the tea?”

  Polly Anne frowned at the ground. “I didn’t want her at the tea. I thought she would be a distraction.”

  I frowned. “Polly Anne, how could she have been a distraction?”

  Polly Anne tugged on the cuffs of her dress. “She wanted to speak at the tea, and I told her no. I needed the presentation to stay on message, and I was afraid that message might be garbled if she spoke. She has a hard time staying on the same subject. I couldn’t let her ramble in front of that group. She might have dissuaded them from donating more.”

  I disagreed. “I would think it would be even more inspiring to meet one of the women the farm helped.”

  Polly Anne shook her head as if I couldn’t possibly understand.

  “I’m going to need to speak to her,” I said.

  “Why?” She acted surprised.

  I rocked back on my heels, glad that I’d had the good sense to change out of my party dress and heels into more practical jeans and tennis shoes. “Because she was at the scene of the crime, and if the two of you were at odds, it gives her a motive.”

  “She doesn’t have a motive. She wanted to speak in front of the group. She thought if she shared her story, it would move the women to give more. We disagreed on that, but I don’t think she would take the money from Abigail’s Farm if her intention was to raise money for it.”

  “She might have been upset enough with you to steal money in retaliation,” I said.

  Polly Anne scowled. “She wouldn’t do that.”

  “If you’re so sure, let me talk to her.”

  Polly Anne hesitated. “Fine, follow me, but I am telling you: it’s the Amish, not the women here, who are responsible for what happened.”

  As I followed her across the yard, I wondered how many times the Amish in Holmes County were blamed for something that went wrong and how many times they were innocent of those accusations.

  Polly Anne led me around the side of the house, which was purple. That’s right; the color of the house was purple. I supposed a better way to describe the color was lavender. She must have noticed me staring at it because she said, “I know the color isn’t what you normally see in Amish Country. That’s why I picked it. I wanted to show that Abigail’s Farm was something different.”

  She had certainly accomplished that. I had never seen a lavender house in Amish Country. Around the back of the place, there were rows and rows of plants covered with burlap and tethered in place with twine. A painfully thin woman with blond hair in a high ponytail raked between the rows of burlap.