Solitude Death

An Amish Country Murder Mystery

By Saundra J. McKee

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Solitude Death, an Amish Country Murder Mystery by Saundra J. McKee

Prologue

1960

I don’t remember very much about 1960. After all, it was thirty years ago, and I was only ten years old. Two events do stand out. I remember being a “Kennedy girl,” parading around in a red, white and blue straw hat and patriotic banner when John Kennedy campaigned in our rural county seat. My parents were Democratic Committee people and made sure I got to shake the hand of the future President. My Dad believed that JFK was the best thing since FDR. In 1960, even more importantly, I remember making a new and somewhat unusual friend that I will never forget. My memories of my Amish friend, Fannie Miller, and the choices she made continue to shape my thoughts about life and people. Then in 1990, the Amish would come to play a larger role in my life than I could have ever imagined. Murder is like that, it can bring all sorts of people together in new and unimagined ways.

Back in 1960, several Old Order Amish families moved into our rural region of western Pennsylvania. They purchased numerous farms from elderly people who wanted out from under years of hard agricultural work. Many of the local farmers’ children had gone to college and were anxious to take less demanding careers “off the farm.” Most of us “English”, as the Amish referred to anyone who was not Amish, knew very little about this Christian sect whose lifestyle remained unchanged for over two hundred years. Some of our neighbors scoffed at how the Amish men immediately tore out the telephones, electricity and plumbing from the houses they purchased. I was fascinated by the large families who rode through our small town in horse drawn buggies and dressed in dark colored heavy materials, even in the hottest days of summer. The Amish men reminded me of a bearded William Penn, our state’s founder.

When school started in the fall at the two room Consolidated School (formed from several area one room school houses), it was great to see the kids that I’d been learning with since first grade (kindergarten was viewed as frivolous). Grades one through three were in one side of the building with grades four through six in the other. Being in fifth grade, I’d already had a year with Mrs. Hoover who I still think was the best teacher ever. She stood much taller than the blackboard, wore large horned rimmed glasses on the tip of her nose and had a funny story for every occasion. I especially loved it when she sat at the piano and enthusiastically played songs. Her music ranged from patriotic to religious to silly, and we all loved to sing along.

There were twelve of us in the fifth grade and a similar number in fourth and sixth. Mrs. Hoover would teach some things to the whole class while at other times, she would teach one grade separately and the rest of us would work on assignments. Now days the educational pundits call this “looping.” For us, it was the rural reality.

We were all quite surprised when on the second day of school, three Amish kids came to our class. The girl’s name was Fannie Miller, and Mrs. Hoover had her sit directly in front of me. For most of that day, I just stared at her back; her white prayer bonnet over a bun in her hair, and the long sleeved, ankle-length royal blue dress that appeared to be held together by straight pins. Her shoes were black and looked like clunky men’s work boots. Fannie seemed pretty shy, and for a few days we only exchanged some smiles and hellos. While the class played softball or “bull in the ring” at recess, Fannie and the two Amish boys stood on the sidelines and watched.

One day, Fannie left her lunch on the school bus. We didn’t have a cafeteria, just cartons of warm milk delivered to school each day. We ate at our desks. I’d noticed that Fannie usually ate a big piece of homemade bread and a chunk of cheese. I usually brought a cheese or peanut butter sandwich myself, so I offered to split mine with her. At first, Fannie said, “No that’s O.K.,” but when I assured her that I couldn’t eat it all, she agreed to share my cheese sandwich.

That sandwich marked the beginning of our friendship. It “broke the ice,” and got us talking throughout the day. At first we talked about school, homework, where we lived, and our brothers and sisters. Fannie had a total of eight older brothers and one baby sister. I just had one younger brother who was in first grade and followed me around like a lost puppy.

When I told my parents about my new friend, they seemed to sense my excitement. In a few days, I found a colorful book about the Amish on my desk at home. The book described a fascinating lifestyle that though rooted in tradition, had many variations across states and communities. My mother had been a teacher and my dad loved history, taking us on regular vacations to Gettysburg, Valley Forge and Washington, D.C. Both my folks asked me lots of questions about the Amish and seemed as fascinated by their way of life as I was.

As the fall days grew colder, Fannie and I became more and more comfortable with each other. Fannie never asked me as many questions as I asked her, but she never seemed to mind sharing what her life was like. I kept a diary, and much of it was devoted to what I was learning about the Amish from my friend Fannie.

Chapter 1

1960

In October, it was time for getting our school pictures taken. I noticed that Fannie along with John and Eli, the two other Amish in our classroom, did not have theirs taken. I asked Fannie about this. She said that they didn’t believe in having photographs taken because the Bible said that people should not make “graven images.” I wasn’t sure what a “graven image” was and doubted that the Bible we used in our Methodist Church had a problem with school pictures. Fannie said she thought their Bible was the same as ours, so I decided to check with my Sunday school teacher. She confirmed that we all used the same Bible, but we just interpreted things differently. When I asked Fannie where her church was located, she explained that services were held in people’s homes every other week. She said that the service lasted nearly four hours and was all in German.

“Fannie, I didn’t know that you could speak German! My uncle was in Germany during the war, and can say a few things. Say something in German.”

“Well, we actually speak Pennsylvania Dutch,” she replied. “We aren’t supposed to speak it here at school.”

When Halloween came, Fannie and the other Amish did not come to school on the day of our party. “You missed a great time. I came as a hobo, like the ones who travel along the railroad. Were you guys sick?”

“No, we just don’t celebrate everything that you English do. We have some different holidays, but we do have Christmas and Easter,” Fannie explained.

In November, Fannie missed several days. She returned to school anxious to tell me about the weddings that had taken place. She said that they usually wait until after the harvest to have weddings and that they were usually on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

“I’ll bet they get lots of presents,” I guessed.

“Not really,” replied Fannie. “The couple goes around and visits homes in the days after the wedding. That’s when they are given gifts. That’s also when the husband begins to grow a beard.”

“I think I read about that somewhere. It said that Amish men don’t grow mustaches because they were a military symbol in the old days. Why does that matter?”

“We don’t believe in fighting wars. My dad says that long ago, when the Amish were still in Europe our people were persecuted by the armies. It was terrible. That’s why we don’t use buttons, too, because those soldiers did.”

“It’s amazing how we are both Christians, but do things so differently,” I said. “But my mom says all Christians are the same when it comes to the really important stuff. Our new President is a Christian. As a Catholic, his ideas are different too. Do the Amish vote? I heard they didn’t.”

Fannie shook her head. “Both my parents vote. We pay taxes too. Some people think we don’t have to pay. But we never take handouts from the government. When my grandparents got too old to live alone, they moved in with us.”

“My grandparents lived with us until they passed away a couple years ago. They got Social Security from the government. My grandpa said he earned it.”

When our school Christmas party rolled around, I brought Fannie a pair of blue mittens that my mother had knitted. Fannie was out of school the whole week before vacation and missed our party. Mrs. Hoover explained that one of the Amish family’s barns had burned down and since they didn’t believe in carrying insurance, all the Amish families in the area and some from outside came together to build a new barn.

When Fannie came back to school after the holidays, I gave her the mittens. She seemed pleased and reached in her desk and handed me a plainly wrapped package. We both laughed when I opened it. Her mother had knit me a pair of green mittens!

When spring finally came, we had an Easter break. Fannie was excited because her family was going to visit relatives in Ohio. “Do you ride in a buggy all the way to Ohio?” I gasped. “That must take forever.”

“Oh no,” laughed Fannie, “We are allowed to pay people to take us on longer trips in cars. We just don’t own or drive them ourselves.”

“I don’t really get that,” I answered, “What’s the difference?”

“It’s just our way. I guess it’s also why our women never cut their hair. There must be something in the Bible about it. We can even figure out who we’ll marry by working with some Bible verses.”

“Go on!” I exclaimed. “You’ve got to show me that!”

“I will, but it’s a secret, so don’t tell anyone!”

Fannie explained a complicated process with a key and a rubber band, which I didn’t totally understand. However, I was so pleased that she felt we were close enough friends to share such secrets.

When May finally came, we were all anxious for summer vacation. Fannie seemed kind of sad and distant. She finally told me that the Amish community was building their own one room school, and that it would be ready by fall. She explained that they only had to go to school until the eighth grade, and that the teacher was usually a young woman who had only gone through the eighth grade.

“But what’s wrong with this school?” I asked feeling so disappointed.

“Nothing. This is a good school, but our elders fear we will get “too English” if we live in your world too long. One of my older brothers left us and married an English woman. My parents have to act like he no longer exists, and the whole community shuns him now. But my Pa says it is up to me about school. He said I may come back to this school next year, but after that I must go to the new school for the last two years of my education. I have learned so much from Mrs. Hoover and I love that we have become good friends. I’m not sure what to do.”

“I’m so glad that we’re friends too. Maybe I should go to Amish school,” I suggested.

“I’m pretty sure that’s not allowed,” sighed Fannie.

So I wasn’t really too surprised when Fannie didn’t show up for sixth grade at Consolidated School. She had made her choice, and at some level, I guess I understood why. I missed my friend. I never heard from her and had no idea how to get in touch with her. Our bus would go by the small white Amish school each day, but I never saw her there.

As the years went by, my interest in the Amish remained. I talked about and wrote about their interesting lifestyle at college and to my friends. As I started my career as a school teacher and later a college professor, I would share stories about my friend Fannie. As I traveled the country and world, I was surprised how widespread Amish communities were. At one time, over twenty states and ten countries had Amish settlements. I gave my parents, as well as Fannie, much of the credit for my keen interest in not just the Amish but history, politics, religion and culture. I think that knowing her also made me more tolerant of various faiths. I studied Hinduism in India, Buddhism in China and Islam in the Middle East. I learned that like Mother Theresa did that I loved all religions but was “in love” with Christianity and all its facets and manifestations around the globe.

As my own life got more complicated with family matters, jobs, finances and the daily rush, I would often think of Fannie and wonder what her life was like. This was especially true when I traveled home to visit my parents who never left the house in which they raised my brother and me. One year, I was really surprised to learn that the old Consolidated School, that had set empty for years, was bought by an Amish family who turned it into a home!

In the early 1980s, my mother sent me an article from the local newspaper. It seemed that the Ku Klux Klan was sponsoring a rally in the area against the Amish. That shocked me. How could anyone feel hatred towards these peace loving and hard working people? When I spoke with my mother on the phone, she said that it seemed to just be based on their growing numbers and buying up so much of the farmland in the area. She later said that on the day of the Klan rally, a lot of area churches scheduled their own rally against the Klan’s intolerance. She said there were thousands of church members there from many denominations. The papers reported that the Klan rally had only attracted a few outsiders.

Not long after that, my mother sent me another article reporting that FBI agents, disguised as Amish, were riding in buggies in the community, due to some attacks on Amish men and women while riding in their carriages. They eventually arrested some troublemakers from the community. I couldn’t help but wonder how these events made Fannie feel about the English.

Then just last week, I drove by my old red brick school that now looked like an Amish condo. I noticed a hand painted sign offering baked goods, rag rugs, and quilts. I decided to stop, more for a chance to peek into my old school than to buy anything. I was in my late thirties and many changes in my life were making me yearn for those warm and happy childhood memories.

It was a warm late summer day. The lane was very muddy from all the recent rainfall as I drove up to the former school. When I knocked on the familiar door, a small boy opened it. I noticed the inside was warm, dark, and smelled of wood smoke and cinnamon rolls. I asked the boy if I could see someone to buy some bread.

“Grandmama!” he yelled.

“ Grandmama” had been baking and was covered with flour. She was chubby and pleasant looking and asked how she could help me as she wiped her hands on her apron. As my eyes adjusted to the light and she stepped closer, I recognized her. It was my old friend, Fannie!

“Fannie, it’s you!” I exclaimed. “Do you remember me from fifth grade right here in this building?”

“At first she seemed uncertain. Then she smiled. “Dana. Dana McKenzie. Of course I do. I have thought about you many times over the years.”

“Me too,” I laughed. “I can’t believe you’re living in our old school. Oh, and my name is Dana Blades now.”

“Well, the price was good and Eli and I wanted a big house. Most of the good farms had been bought up. Eli is really more of a carpenter than a farmer. We both had good memories here from the fifth grade and thought it would be a good place to raise our children. The years have really flown by. Now, I’m a grandma.”

“I have to ask you this, Fannie. If you liked it so much, why didn’t you come back for sixth grade? I was so disappointed to lose your friendship.”

“Dana, I did choose to come back to this school, and my father thought it would be fine. However, my mother got very sick that summer, and I was needed to stay home and help with her with my baby sister. She passed away after several months, and I never did go back to school.”

“I never knew. So how many children do you have, Fannie?”

“Oh, I’ve lost count! Just kidding. We have five. They’re all through school now and working, some married, but we see plenty of them. How about you, Dana. Do you have children?”

“No. I lost my husband shortly after we got married. I enjoy being an aunt to my brother’s kids and an honorary aunt to many of my friends’ children,” I responded, thinking Fannie could hardly fathom what my single life must be like.

We drank coffee and talked and reminisced for a good while. As I was leaving, we hugged and promised to try to keep in touch.

“You know, said Fannie, “You are the only English friend I have ever had.”

“And you have been my only Amish friend, Fannie. You taught me so much, especially to appreciate how everyone doesn’t have to do things the same way or make the same choices to be a good Christian.”

Driving away, I was struck with how my world had changed since 1960. Cell phones, microwaves and computerized everything for me. Although even in 2010, cell phone towers and cable TV had not reached my native village of Solitude. I had several advanced degrees, lots of insurance policies, mutual funds and material things of no interest to the Amish community. But for Fannie, what she taught me about the Amish lifestyle in 1960 still held true in 1990, and would probably be true in 2060. Their clothing, tools and methods of doing their daily work and traveling remained unchanged.

Later that day, I stopped at the hilly cemetery where one of John Kennedy’s biggest fans, my dad, was buried. I hoped he died knowing how much he had instilled the love of learning about people and their history in me. I realized that the choices we make, whether we’re Amish or English Christians, are probably based on similar values. I had recently made a choice very similar to the one that my friend Fannie had made back in the 1960s. I started my little red sports car and headed to my childhood home where, since resigning from my teaching career, I would stay to care for my ailing mother. Little did I realize that within a few days, I would be thinking about little else than the Amish.

I never dreamed that a member of our Amish community would be the victim of a brutal murder.

Chapter 2

September 1990

Friday

I knew that moving back to my childhood home at the age of thirty nine would clearly take some adjustments. Part of my reason for returning to the peaceful hamlet of Solitude was to care for my mother who at seventy five had suffered some mini strokes that left her unable to drive and rather forgetful. She still lived in the large Victorian house her grandfather had built but she was unable to take care of it. My other reason was even more personal. I was just tired of the life I’d established in Florida. I felt the need for change but had no idea what that should be. Spending some quiet time in my laid back childhood home seemed to be the perfect place to make some decisions about where I hoped the next phase of my life might lead.

As it turned out in that summer of 1990, the village of Solitude was anything but calm and peaceful. A crime wave like never seen before took a grip on our community that sent things into a tailspin. The victims were some of the most innocent of our citizens, the Old Order Amish. My mother had told me that a couple of Amish barns had burned down in the spring and arson was suspected. No arrests had been made, but there seemed to be several suspects. As I got back into the routine of living in a small town, I sometimes met up with neighbors in the morning at the general store/post office where news and gossip were shared. I learned that there were other ominous events taking place. Our major source of news was Helen Beam.

Helen Beam was my mother’s oldest and dearest friend. She looked and acted like she was fifty five instead of seventy five. She had plenty of “contacts” and spent a good part of her day on the telephone gathering news about our area. She’d often stop by to visit Mom for morning coffee around 10:30 after the 9:00 am gathering at the post office. Helen said that in three different places Amish buggies had been forced off the road the night before and there had been some minor injuries. The first thing I thought of was Fannie and her family and hoped that they were okay. I decided to stop by for a visit and see how she was doing.

A bit about me. I’m Dana Blades, a thirty-nine year old who took an early retirement from a position as a university history professor in southern Florida. I loved the beaches and weather in Florida, but began to hate the traffic and nonstop development. Things were just going too fast for someone who specializes in Colonial America. I was married, ever so briefly, to my college sweetheart. He was a Navy pilot shot down over Vietnam in 1972. For years, I hoped and prayed for a miracle and that I’d hear word that he’d survived. It never came, and I’ve yet to meet someone who measures up to my idealized memory of him.

I left behind many close and interesting friends in Florida that ranged from quilters to fishermen to international spies. My hobbies include travel abroad and at home to historic sites, antique collecting, skeet shooting and reading mysteries. I’m a social liberal and a devout Christian. On good days, I’ve been told I bear a passing resemblance to Meryl Streep (if she were twenty pounds heavier, had myopic blue eyes and unruly brunette naturally curly hair). Despite an addiction to coconut ice cream and Cape Cod potato chips, I can outrun most thirty year olds. I love to wear Birkenstocks, jeans, tee shirts from places I’ve been and soft leather jackets. Like most people, I’ve made a few mistakes over the years and have some regrets, but I try not to dwell up on them.

Now my closest companion is a terrier mix named Toby, adopted during a get away trip to the Greek island of Santorini. My fantasy world is that of a sleuth resulting from an early addiction to the writings of Agatha Christie. A couple successes at helping the police to solve campus crimes in Florida have resulted in perhaps a bit of an overconfidence in my detective abilities.

Along with my mother, Edith, I have a younger brother, Phil, who lives in the area with his wife and three kids. There are also several aunts, cousins and childhood friends with whom I looked forward to renewing acquaintances. But I needed to first touch base with Fannie and find out who was trying to make the Amish miserable.

Chapter 3

Friday

I picked up some fresh coffee and cranberry scones at the local bakery and headed over to Fannie’s home. I figured that morning was as good of a time as any to drop by. I spotted Fannie out in the garden picking tomatoes. She smiled as I got out of the car.

“I didn’t expect to see you so soon. How is your mother?” asked Fannie.

“She’s doing very well. I think she’s glad to have me home, although we both have to get used to the idea of living together. I’m glad the house is so big. We can keep out of each other’s way a good part of the day. She even seems to like my cooking.”

Fannie laughed. “Let’s go in. It’s getting hot already. I’ll make us some coffee.”

“It’s my treat today, Fannie. I picked up some scones too. I hope you like them.”

The inside of the house still smelled of wood smoke and was pleasantly cool even though the temperature was to get into the mid 80s. Fannie was clearly a good housekeeper. Everything was neat and simple and scrubbed clean. She motioned for me to have a seat at the huge oak kitchen table.

“Now that the children are seldom her for meals, this table seems huge. It’s still good to have when we have the church services or the grandchildren come. Those scones really look good.”

We enjoyed our midmorning snack and discussed our families until Eli came in. He gratefully accepted a scone and coffee and joined us at the table.

“I was upset to hear about the buggies being run off the road. Has anyone been badly hurt?” I queried.

“Oh just some cuts and bruises so far, but someone is going to get seriously injured or killed,” said Eli sadly, shaking his head.

“Do the police have any idea as to who might be doing it?” I asked.

“Not that we know of,” answered Fannie. “Although our people don’t talk that much to the police. We try to mind our own business. It’s seems like it was a black or dark blue pickup truck that ran the buggies off the road, but no one was able to get a license plate number or see who was driving. It had those dark tinted windows. “

“Do you think it’s just some teenagers?” I asked. “I remember a few years back when they arrested some local teens for harassment.”

“ This time the trouble seems more persistent. Some of the elders think it’s tied in with the barn burnings. A couple of our men have also gotten some threatening notes at their businesses. Joseph Byler, who has the sawmill got a note saying that if he doesn’t stop cutting down so many trees, the sawmill will be burned down. Then Jonas Miller, Fannie’s brother, who works growing grapes for the winery, got a threat on his life. His note accused him of being a hypocrite for contributing to the making of alcoholic beverages.” Eli took a sip of his coffee and held Fannie’s hand.

“We’re all worried. We try to get along, but someone seems to have a real grudge.”

“Do the police know about all of this?” I asked.

“I imagine so,” replied Eli. “But we don’t really have any local police out here, and the state police are twenty miles away. Unless something happens, we’re pretty much on our own. It’s worrisome and difficult to know what might happen next.”

Just then, a young man rushed in the door. He was clearly agitated and didn’t seem to notice that I was there. Fannie quickly introduced me as Dana, her old school friend. He was John, their oldest son who had two young children and was living in the other side of the Fannie and Eli’s refurbished old school house.

“Something terrible has happened,” he cried with tears streaming down his face. “Elizabeth’s sister Constance was found dead at the school house this morning. We just are headed over to be with the family. Will you watch the children until we get back?”

“Of course,” replied Fannie rushing to hug her son. “What happened, who found her?”

“I’m afraid we don’t know much yet. I was at work at the buggy shop when the children came running from the school. They found her there when they arrived for school. They said it was all bloody and that she had a knife in her. They were in shock. We ran to the school. Constance seemed to be already dead, no pulse. We went to the pay phone and called an ambulance and the state police. The police wanted us to keep the children there, but they had already gone home. The police are at the school now. We’ve got to get over to be with Elizabeth’s family.”

Fannie looked at me clearly distressed. “Dana, I’ve got to go get the children. I’m so…nothing like this has ever happened. Maybe we can talk later.”

“Of course, I’m so sorry. Let me know if I can be of any help. I need to get back to check on Mom. I’ll keep in touch.”

On the way home, I drove by the one room Amish schoolhouse. It was a plain white cement block building with an outside toilet. There were state police cars all over the place along with reporters and photographers from local radio and television stations. Cars were being motioned past, so I had to keep going. I couldn’t believe it. I don’t think a murder had ever taken place in the area. What in the world was going on?

I got home and fixed a grilled cheese sandwich and soup for my mother. I had no appetite. When I told her about what I’d learned, she just shook her head. “It’s hard to believe that someone would hurt an Amish school teacher. It makes no sense.”

“I know. The Amish teachers are so young. The children only go to school until eighth grade and their teachers have only gone as far and are usually only fourteen or fifteen themselves. What possible motive could anyone have for doing such a thing?”

“Well if I know my daughter, I imagine you’ll be trying to find out, won’t you? Just be careful. There must be some dangerous people around here.”

“I know, Mom. I’m just naturally curious and maybe I can be of some help.”

“Dana, have you given any more thought to what we discussed last week?”

“Not now, Mom. I have enough on my plate right now.”

By evening, the Pittsburgh news stations were full of stories about the death of the young Amish teacher. None of the Amish were willing to be interviewed so all of the information was relayed through the state police. They said that Constance Slaghbach was sixteen years old and had been teaching for two years. Some older students arrived at the school and found her stabbed around 8:00 a.m. Two boys ran for help while two girls sent the other students home as they arrived at school. Constance’s parents had said that she’d left for school around 7:00 a.m. and that it was about a ten minute walk from their farm. The school was set a good distance back from the road and there were no houses nearby. They mentioned that what seemed like a hate message was written on the chalkboard. “Death to the Dutch” and three swastikas and two pentagrams were drawn with chalk on the board. The police asked that anyone having any information should contact them at a toll free number.

I racked my brain to think of who might be able to provide me with some additional information. Beside my mother’s pal, Helen, I recalled a good friend from high school who owned the local cheese shop. Someone had said that she was married to a retired state policeman. I made plans to stop by and get reacquainted the next morning.

Chapter 4

Saturday

The next morning was beautiful. The air was a little cool with a hint of the fall weather to come and some of the maple leaves were beginning to turn to brilliant shades of red, yellow and orange. My mother was up early watching the news and drinking coffee. I had purchased a new coffee pot that would start with a timer so that Mom would have coffee waiting for her when she got up. She had told me that one morning she got up and had simply forgotten how to make coffee. I could see that her memory loss was a source of great frustration for her, and tried to not act overly concerned. Her greatest worry was the possibility of having to go to a nursing home. I had assured her that my brother and I would do all we could to keep that from happening.

She told me that my younger brother Phil was coming by later to do some mowing. Phil owned a sporting goods shop in the Pittsburgh suburbs, but managed to get home at least once a week to help out. I told her that I was going to visit an old friend, but that I’d get back in time to see him. I suggested we have a family picnic in the near future, before the weather turned too cold for outdoor dining.

I took Toby for a run along Big Bass creek and wondered if any additional violence had taken place overnight. After a quick shower and making some poached eggs for my mother and myself, I got in the Miata and headed for the Cheese Shop. The shop’s owner was Sharon Switzer. She was a classmate who had grown up on a dairy farm. She was the girl who most girls wanted to be and most guys wanted to date. She was blonde, attractive, petite, a cheerleader and homecoming queen. She was voted most likely to succeed. Everyone was surprised when she got pregnant in our senior year. Although we traveled in different circles in high school (me with the nerdy music, newspaper and science club geeks) the school was small enough that we were still pretty friendly. Instead of college, she’d married the guy and settled down near Punxsutawney. When her parents passed on, she sold the dairy farm for what was rumored to be a lot of money. A few years later she and her husband purchased the local Cheese Shop. I was glad to see her behind the counter when I opened the door. “Good morning, Sharon. It’s been a long time. This is really a neat shop. What a variety of cheeses!”

“Hey, Dana! I heard you were back. It’s good to see you. I was just making some coffee. Have a cup. And try some of our cheeses. We make over fifty kinds of cheeses, processing over 80,000 pounds of milk a week. The difference in flavor is usually just about one degree in temperature. We’ve come up with some new flavors of cheese, like blueberry, apple pie and chocolate cherry. Here try this cranberry walnut. Now, tell me about life outside the boonies.”

“This is delicious, who knew there could be some many kinds of cheeses. What do you do with all the excess whey?” I asked trying to show her I’d done my homework.

“It’s so neat. A local dairy picks it up and it’s used for fertilizer and for power to generate electricity.”

After sharing news about families and bringing each other up to date, I asked her what she thought about the murder.

“Oh, it’s just the worst thing to happen in this community. We’re all so upset. I have a lot of Amish who work here in the plant and a lot more who provide us with milk. I’ve never seen them so stressed, not that I can blame them. I think those of us who aren’t Amish are just as upset. Everyone is on edge. Constance had even helped me out in the shop a when we were really busy. She was a great young lady. Very hard working, polite and got along so well with the customers.”

“Does anyone have any idea who might be behind the violence?” I queried.

“Not really. There are lots of theories, but nothing solid. You know my husband, Bob, retired from the state police just two years ago. He still talks to a lot of the troopers. They don’t seem to have a lot of leads either.”

“I’d love to meet Bob sometime. I’d like to run a few ideas by him if you don’t mind. I’m still the nosey wanna-be detective and reporter that I was in high school.”

“Oh, I remember,” laughed Sharon. “You were always nebbing around looking for a good story for the school paper. We had a lot of fun back then, didn’t we? Well Bob stays pretty busy. We recently bought the local winery and he’s overseeing that, not that he’s much of a vintner. But he was able to get full retirement after twenty years and is only forty-two, and he needs to keep busy. Why not stop over at the winery around lunch time. I know he likes to take a break then. I’ll give him a call and let him know you’re coming by.”

“That would be great, Sharon. I ran into one of the Amish women who I’d been friends with back in grade school and this whole thing really grates me. I’d love to ask around and see if I can be of any help.”

“Your mother used to brag on you at church. She said you’d helped solve a couple crimes in Florida. She seemed so proud of you. I have to warn you that my husband may not be as appreciative. He is definitely of the opinion that crime investigation should be left to the professionals.”

“Oh, I’ve encountered that attitude before,” I smiled. “Believe me, I don’t have the skills to be a detective. My background in history just sometimes gives me insights and ways of looking at things that others may not see.”

“I hear you. Oh it looks like a tour bus in pulling into the lot. I better get working.”

“How is business? Every time I come back, I’m amazed at the new shops and restaurants. It’s starting to look like Lancaster County.”

“We do really well, Dana. Every since the movie “Groundhog Day” came out, Punxsutawney has become a popular destination and the new Jimmy Stewart museum in Indiana is also a draw. We get groups from all over. People love the quaintness of the Amish farms. I think most people like to escape to a little slower pace of life.”

“I’m all for that. I just don’t see who would want to harm the folks behind this economic boon.”

“Me neither, Dana. Let me know what you find out.”

“Will do, Sharon. And thanks so much. I can’t wait to meet Bob.”

On the way out, I noticed a nice new red Mercedes parked out front and figured that Sharon must be doing quite well. I had some time before my noon visit with Sharon’s husband and decided to buy some groceries and supplies for the house. I’d noticed that my mother had cupboards full of light bulbs, toilet paper and dish detergent, but was lacking in other basic staples like food, laundry detergent, paper towels, and condiments. I had the impression that she had been eating very little when left on her own. She’d lost over thirty pounds in the past year, and I was determined to work on her nutrition, hoping that might help her mental acuity.

The nearest large grocery store was ten miles away. It was owned and operated by Helen Beam’s oldest son. It was a family business, and his wife and two eldest children worked in the store. Bill Beam shouted a cheery “hello” as I grabbed a cart.

“Dana, long time no see. Mom said you were back for good. I’ll bet your mother is so pleased to have you home. How have you been?”

“Just fine, Bill. Your mother keeps us up to date with you and your family. The store looks great. I love the little barn you built to house the horses while the Amish shop.”

“Well, they are some of our best customers. Those big families eat a lot,” he joked. “I try to keep things in stock that they use regularly. I also sell some of the Amish baked goods here in the store. People love it.”

“Do you sell wine and beer in the store yet? I’m so used to that in Florida.”

“Not in Pennsylvania. We’re still in the Dark Ages. You still have to go to a State Store for wine. We keep after the legislature to change things, but that’s going nowhere.”

I loaded up on supplies, mindful of the lack of storage room in the Miata . A gorgeous looking guy who reminded me of Tom Selleck insisted on helping me load the groceries into my car.

“You look familiar,” I tried to flirt. “I’ll bet women drop by here a lot just to have you escort them to their cars.”

He blushed. “I’m Van White. I was a few years behind you in school. I’m kind of between jobs, and Bill was good enough to let me work here part time. I’m looking for something that pays better, but the job market’s pretty tight.”

“Well it’s good to meet you, Van. Thanks for the help and good luck with the job search. Maybe you could turn letters on ‘Wheel of Fortune’.”

“Sure, I get that a lot. She’s my long lost sister.”

I headed home to drop off the groceries and hopefully see my younger brother. My timing was good. He had finished mowing the yard and he and Mom were sitting on the front porch with ice tea and cookies. I hadn’t seen Phil for several months and was amazed at how much he was looking like our dad. He gave me a big bear hug and welcomed me home. He got me up-to-date with my nieces and nephews and we made plans for a family picnic a week from the coming Sunday.

“I ran into a guy named Van White at the grocery store. Do you remember him? He’s really a good looking guy.”

“I’d stay away from that guy, Sis. He’s got a reputation.”

“I don’t really remember him from school. Was he in your grade?” I asked.

“For a time. His mother was killed in an auto accident when we were in seventh grade. After that he fell in with a bad crowd. His grandmother couldn’t handle him and he ended up in juvenile detention and different foster homes. I’m pretty sure he never graduated. He was a good athlete, but never really applied himself to academics. He went into the Army and seemed like he had cleaned up his act for a while. He worked as a mechanic for a while in the area, then I heard he got in trouble and went to prison.”

“Really, he seems so sweet,” I retorted. “What did he do?”

“I heard he was kind of a gigolo, you know taking care of older women. Someone said he got caught embezzling money from a widow in Pittsburgh. I think he did about five years in the state pen. He’s been back in the area for a couple years. I haven’t heard too much about him until now.”

“Well, I just thought he was kind of cute,” I smiled. “It sounds like he’s got a lot of baggage and issues. I’ll just enjoy having him carry out the groceries. Say, I gotta run. I’m going to meet the guy who bought the winery. His wife said he’s retired state police. I want to see what he knows about the violence taking place around here. I guess you heard about the Amish teacher.”

“Of course I did and it’s such a shame, but why are you getting yourself involved with this? “ asked my brother.

“ Oh, you know me. I can’t help myself. I recently touched base with an Amish friend, so that makes it kinda personal. Plus I love this area and am really angry that someone thinks they can come in and hurt people.”

“Just be careful, Dana. Things aren’t the same as they were when we were kids. That innocence and “Camelot” period are long gone. Drugs are everywhere and they and the demand for them make people do some crazy shit.”

I hugged Phil and told him I’d be careful. He thanked me profusely for helping with Mom, and we parted, promising to make an effort to talk every few days.

Chapter 5

Saturday

The winery was at the end of a long winding and hilly road. It was a beautiful rustic structure where tourists could observe the wine making process, sample the wines and purchase all sorts of wines and accessories. There was even a guest house for over night stays. Several Amish men were working in the vineyards as I approached the wine shop.

Sharon’s husband Bob greeted me as I entered the building. He offered me a glass of wine and indicated a plate of cheese and crackers on the table. Bob was very tall and quite handsome. He had kind blue eyes and bore a slight resemblance to Richard Gere.

“Sharon tells me that you like to play detective, Dana,” he chuckled. “I can’t say that I approve, but my wife says you’re pretty smart and if I don’t talk to you now, you’ll persist. I do admire determination.”

“I’m trying to get a handle on what’s going on around here. I just want to live peacefully like everyone else and am really upset by all this violence aimed at the Amish. It seems to me like they have helped this area out. Why would they be the target for violence?”

“That’s the $25,000 question. We had some problems when I was on the force back a few years ago. It turned out to be some troublemakers who liked to drink and bully people. They seemed to know the Amish are good targets. They don’t fight back and don’t take people to court. They just want to live their lives quietly. Those thugs just seem to resent anyone who is different, and they get their kicks making people’s lives miserable.”

“It seems to be going a lot further this time,” I commented. The threats, the fires, the buggy crashes and now murder. This seems to be more than loser teens sowing wild oats.”

“Oh, absolutely. I’m a bit out of the loop these days, but I’ve heard a few theories. There are a lot of active hate groups in Pennsylvania. The police are checking them out. There have also been some cases of lone psychopaths targeting a particular group of people. Some have even suggested that it could be someone within the Amish community or someone who has been shunned. Right now, the search is wide open. As usual, the police are short on manpower, and the investigation will take a while.”

“Do you know what kind of evidence they found at the school house?” I asked.

“Not much to go on from what I heard. The teacher was stabbed through the heart with a common kitchen knife. Whoever did it must have known when she would be at the school without any students, and no witnesses have come forth. No fingerprints were found on the knife, and it’s the kind anyone could pick up at a WalMart. By the slant of her wound, the perp was likely left handed. No one connected with the girl could think of anyone who would have any motive to hurt her. She lived a very sheltered life with her parents. Her students seemed to love her.”

“Wow, that’s not much to go on. It never happens like that on the TV shows.”

Bob laughed. “No, but this is often the case. There was that message on the black board and some swastikas and satanic symbols but that could be anyone. They didn’t find any prints on the chalk either. The only thing missing, which seems weird, was her lunch. Her mother said that this time of year she usually took a peanut butter sandwich, a tomato, and a piece of fruit, usually an apple with her. Her mother remembered seeing her pack a lunch that morning, but it was nowhere to be found at the crime scene.”

“That does seem odd,” I responded. “Maybe some kind of trophy if it’s some sicko doing this.”

“They’re all sickos, Dana. Who else would so such a thing?”

I thanked Bob for his time and gave him a bottle of wine that I’d brought back from New Zealand last year. He seemed to appreciate it and said it would be okay to call if I needed to ask him more questions.

I noticed all the trophies and awards on the way out. “It looks like you’ve really had a lot of success with your wines.”

“Well most of these were won by the previous owners, but we hope to keep up the quality. Who would have thought that this climate would be so good for growing wine grapes. We produce over 6000 gallons a year.”

“Someone said that last years lousy weather might be a challenge.” I commented.

“Haven’t you heard the expression, ‘struggling wines produce the best vines’?”

I hadn’t but smiled knowingly.

I headed home, hoping the wine hadn’t pushed my blood alcohol above the legal limit. I took a back road past the old McCormick Mansion that was quite a landmark in the region. I thought back to one of the first serious college history papers that I had written. It was about John McCormick, the man who had built the huge building that resembled a Scottish castle. I was lucky enough to interview his daughter who had opened a small museum in the house as a tribute to her father. Although he was best know for his invention of a turbine, he was also an accomplished painter and song writer. In addition, his political views as a Copperhead went against the popular opinion of his day. He’d even written an amusing song poking fun at those who feared the Ku Klux Klan. Writing the paper had given me some real insight into the multidimensional life of a gifted individual. No one is ever quite what they seem to be on the surface. I decided to keep that in mind as I kept looking into the crimes.

Chapter 6

Saturday

By the time I got home, my brother had left and my mother was taking a nap. Toby was hyper and clearly needed to get outside. As much as I would have liked a nap too, I decided that there would be no peace until my favorite pooch had some exercise. I grabbed his favorite tennis ball and went outside to the pond that my father had built for us back when I was in third grade. As I tossed the ball into the water and watched Toby retrieve it and swim to shore over and over, I thought back to all the good times we’d had at that pond. My friends and I would swim and fish there all summer, and ice skate and play hockey and “crack the whip” most of the winter. We’d build bonfires on the shore to warm ourselves while we drank hot chocolate from our thermos jugs. In the spring, frogs would lay eggs there and we’d collect them and watch them transform into tadpoles. Often deer, migrating birds and once even a black bear used the pond as a watering hole. I silently thanked my dear departed Dad for being so good to us. I wished he was here to talk to about the recent events. He had served in the military police in World War II and after that served as a security guard at the federal building in Pittsburgh. His strong sense of justice had been instilled at me at a young age and we both relished seeing the “bad guys” go to jail for their misdeeds. Somehow I thought he’d know how to get to the bottom of what was going on in our community.

When I got back inside the house, the phone was ringing. I picked up just as the caller was about to hang up. “Hello, hello,” I shouted.

“Is this Dana?” a familiar female voice asked.

“Yes, who’s calling?”

“It’s Sharon from the Cheese Shop. I was talking to some of my employees about your interest in what’s going on. One of Fannie’s sons works for me here and her brother works for Bob at the winery. I guess Fannie must have spoken pretty highly of you. Eli Jr. saw you here and Henry saw you talking to Bob. They both made a point of telling us that they thought it would be okay for you to attend the funeral on Monday. I think the whole Amish community is feeling very nervous and would welcome any help, especially from a trusted insider.”

“O.K and thanks for calling. I’d really like to attend, to pay my respects and also to get the chance to ask a few questions.”

“I’m glad to help, Dana. The sooner this thing gets settled, the happier we’ll all be. Did you hear that they plan to tear down the school house where the murder took place? They don’t want to be reminded of what happened there.”

After I hung up, I played with the idea of fixing dinner for Mom and me, but convinced myself that it would be good to get her out for a meal. She always enjoyed dining out, and who knows who we might run into in the process.

We took a ride to the Pantall Hotel in Punxsutawney. Although recently updated, it retained much of its historical ambience, and the food was always great. Mom seemed to be having a good day and ate her entire meatloaf meal. We both indulged in some of their delicious coconut cream pie. On our way out, we passed through the small bar. I noticed the handsome “carry out guy,” Van White, from the grocery store. He was nicely dressed and sitting with an attractive older woman. They were deep in conversation and didn’t seem to notice us until my mother walked up to the table and tapped the woman on the arm.

“Why Violet Rush, what are you doing here?” asked my mother.

Violet seemed a bit rattled to see my mother, but smiled brightly. “Oh hi, Edith. It’s good to see you out. This must be your daughter, Dana. I’m just catching up with an old friend here.”

After we were rather quickly dismissed, we left the bar and got into the car.

“That’s so odd seeing her out in a bar,” remarked my Mother. “I wonder who that young man was.”

“Oh, that’s the guy that Phil and I were talking about earlier today, Van White. He’s the one who carried out my groceries. Phil said that he’d spent some time in prison and has a thing for the older ladies.”

“Well, that’s interesting,” nodded my mother. “Violet is our pastor’s wife. What do you suppose those two have in common?”

“Well, Mom, maybe we’ll find out in church tomorrow. I’m really looking forward to going.”

Chapter 7

Sunday

My mother was up by six am Sunday morning. She was already dressed for church and sitting in a rocking chair holding her purse. “Dana, we’re running late. I like to go to Sunday school before the church service. You need to get dressed.”

“We’re good, Mom. Sunday school isn’t until 9:30, then the church service is at 11.”

“Well, it’s already past nine. We are going to be late, and you know how I hate that.”

I assured her it was only a little past six. At first she argued, but then quietly accepted that she was a bit confused. I gave her a hug. “It feels good to be helpful, Mom. You did so much for me when I was little. I’m sorry that you’re getting forgetful, but I’m glad to be here with you. You know I love you.”

After some cereal and toast, we looked over the Sunday paper. There were several items on the stabbing. I read each one carefully looking for any new information. It seemed like there was very little to go on. I had an idea that might bring out some responses. The papers loved letters to the editor, the more outrageous the better. I decided to work on something in the afternoon that might bring out the crackpots and anyone else with an axe to grind.

We got to church by nine. There were already a lot of people that I’d known since childhood in the old country church. I never felt safer than when I was there. You couldn’t help but feel close to God with the sun streaming through the old stained glass windows. The beautiful oak pews generated warmth and were a great place to sit and reflect. When Jake, my husband, went missing, I wasn’t sure I could go on. I had a lot of guilt, since I had been so opposed to the war that he was off fighting. Despite our political differences, we really loved each other. We just agreed to disagree. His parents, who still live in the Philadelphia area, never really liked me. Jake came from a long line of Naval officers, and I felt like they viewed me as a Jane Fonda. We completely lost touch after Jake went missing. He was their only child, and I’m sure that their pain was as unbearable as mine. I had found strength in this little country church and here I had come to grips with the fact that I would likely never see the love of my life again.

Violet, the pastor’s wife that we had run into the evening before, touched my arm and brought me back to the present. “Dana, it’s good to see you again so soon. We’re so pleased that you’ve come back to Solitude. Do you think we could speak privately for a moment?”

I noticed that Mom was happily engaged in conversation with Helen, so I followed Violet to the pastor’s study. We sat beside each other on a flowered couch. “I imagine you two were wondering what the pastor’s wife was doing in a bar with a young man.”

I just smiled as she went on.

“Van is my second cousin. His grandmother and my grandmother were sisters. I’m a good bit older than Van, but I’ve known him all his life. He’s had a pretty rough time of it, not that he didn’t bring some of it on himself. I’ve been meeting with him and trying to help him get his life back in order. My husband doesn’t have too much time for him, so I’ve kept it quiet. If he knew I was lending Van more money, he’d have a fit!”

“I met Van at the grocery store yesterday. He seems very polite, and he’s a good looking guy. My brother went to school with him, and said he had a lot of problems.”

“Oh yes, and most people don’t know the half of it,” Violet continued. “The deck has been stacked against him from the start. His mother was on drugs and alcohol and ended up in jail when she was eighteen for selling. She was raped by a guard and had Van while still in prison. Just when it seemed like she was getting her life together, she was killed in a head on collision. I’ve tried to keep in touch with Van over the years, and my heart does go out to him. He has a lot going for him, if he could just get a few breaks. I’m trying to get him into some counseling. With his mom being an alcoholic and drug addict and his father being a rapist, who knows what’s in his genes. There may be some new medications that could help him with his demons.”

“I hear he spent some time in prison,” I queried.

“Yes, nearly five years. I’m not sure those years didn’t make him worse off. He fell in with a group of neo-nazi white supremacists there. Despite his sweet looks and manner, he harbors a lot of hatred toward minorities.”

“Do you think he still has ties with them?” I asked, suddenly thinking that Van might be responsible for the hate crimes or know who was responsible.

“He claims that he doesn’t, but he’s very good at stretching the truth. Dana, I’d appreciate it if you’d keep my meeting with Van to yourself. I would really like to help him straighten his life out.”

“No problem,” I assured her. “Mom has probably forgotten it already.”

Mom and I went out for a late breakfast after church and stopped by the cemetery to tend to the flowers on Dad’s and my grandparents’ graves. I noticed that Mom was crying as she stood by Dad’s grave. “I miss that man so much. He could make me crazy at times, but we had a great run. Where do you think he is right now?”

“Oh I think there’s a heaven for sure. Both he and Jake are there and so are your parents. I think it’s beautiful there and people are all healthy and young. Billy Graham said we’d drive down streets of gold in a yellow Cadillac convertible. Wouldn’t Dad love that! You’ll see him again, Mom. I just hope that it’s not too soon.”

She smiled at me, nodding. “Thanks,” she whispered. “Your daddy loved you so much and was so proud of you. There was only that one thing that ever disappointed him.”

“I know, I know.” I nodded and helped her into the car.

When we got home, Mom was ready for her nap and Toby insisted on a walk. By the time we got back I was ready for a nap too, but decided I needed to get started on my opinion piece. Better to be a little cranky when you’re trying to get a reaction from people.

I pulled out my laptop and just began writing anything that came into my head about the past week’s events. Who was my audience?---anyone who had any involvement with the violence or knew who might have done it. What was my objective?---to stir things up and get some information. After several attempts and a lot of deleting, I had mycopy ready to set aside for later review. I wasn’t completely satisfied, but felt that I was headed in the right direction. Out of laziness, I finally decided that the draft would do the job.

To Whom It May Concern:

I have recently returned to Solitude after living out of state for many years. I have always loved this area with its natural beauty and warm and kind people. The influx of Amish has resulted in economic growth as well as good and decent hard working community members. I am outraged at the recent violence that has been aimed at the Amish community, and hope that others will join me in bringing the guilty individuals to justice.

I have studied and taught history for nearly twenty years and truly believe that we can learn a lot from our past. The one thing that I am sure of is that those who commit crimes against religious minorities and especially women are among the vilest and most evil individuals. They are usually uneducated and stupid when it comes to almost anything but guns. They are usually white trash big losers who can’t hold a decent job and can’t even perform sexually(unless its with kids or other men). They know that they are losers, but they try to cover it by committing violent acts. These people are usually male and are so afraid of anyone who is in any way different from themselves. Their heroes are people like Adoph Hitler and Joseph Stalin. They will eventually burn in hell for their sins, but they need to pay for their crimes here on earth too. These leeches and vermin of our society will be brought to justice. I just hope that it’s soon. Anyone who knows anything about the shooting and other violence need to report it to the state police as soon as possible. Those who know something and do nothing are almost as bad as those who commit the acts. Let’s put an end to this, Now!

Sincerely,

Dana Blades, Ph.D.

Maybe it’s a little over the top, I mused, but if brings some witnesses or angry perps forward, it will be worth it. I addressed the envelope and decided to take a stroll with Toby to the mailbox in front of the Post Office before I lost my nerve. As we walked along the tree lined streets of Solitude, I noticed how the days were getting shorter and the weather cooler. I reminded myself that my Florida wardrobe would not serve me well for the upcoming Pennsylvania winter.

“Hey, Dana,” I heard a male voice call. I looked up and saw Van White walking towards us.

“Hi, Van. Seems like I can’t get away from you. How are you?”

“Pretty good. That’s a cute dog. What’s his name?”

“Toby. He’s from Greece. I found him while visiting there and had to bring him home with me.”

“Couldn’t you find a homeless dog in this country?” asked Van. “I guess it’s not politically correct to go out and get a purebred any more.”

I ignored his comment and decided to be direct. “So, Van. What’s your take on all this business going on with the Amish? I’d love to find out who’s causing all this trouble.”

“Beats me” he answered, almost too quickly. “Someone seems to have a real grudge against them people. You’d be smart to watch your back. Whoever it is most likely won’t like any Amish lovers either. I don’t suppose you professor types believe in guns or fighting back.”

“Oh, I can fight back just fine if need be, Van. Why do people assume if you’re educated and a liberal Democrat that you don’t like guns? I was on a skeet shooting team in Florida.”

“Now, don’t get riled, Dana. I didn’t mean anything. I’m sure you can take care of yourself. You just don’t want to cross some folks in this area. There are some nasty dudes out there.”

“I heard a rumor that you might have some ties with one of the militia groups. Any truth to that?”

“Sounds like you’ve been talking to cousin Violet. Well, that’s old history. I’m trying my best to distance myself from my old life. I got views that I don’t imagine you agree with, but I sure as heck won’t be doing anything that will land me back in jail.”

“Good for you, Van. Any chance you’d let me pick your brain about how those groups work? I’ll spring for a lunch.”

“Let me think about it, Dana. Neither one of us need to piss off those guys. You might want to take a ride up to Hungry Ridge and talk to some of your old classmates if you’re so determined to be an investigator.”

Toby was tugging at his leash to move on. I smiled and headed home wondering how much of what Van White had to say was to be believed. I remembered that Hungry Ridge was an area in the hills well off the beaten path where some of the poorest people in the area lived. When I was in school, the kids usually smelled like they hadn’t bathed in days and wore dirty clothes. They were the students who missed a lot of school and didn’t seem to graduate. I could recall that some went into the military, but I had no idea what had happened to most of them. My dad usually complained that they were “reliefers” who sponged off the government. I once rode back through the area with Dad on a hunting trip. The houses were little more than shacks, and there were old junked cars parked all over the place. We were never wealthy but, even at a young age, I realized that my life in Solitude was miles away and many dollar signs from life on Hungry Ridge. I wasn’t sure if anyone would remember me if I paid a visit, but I decided to make a trip there soon.

Chapter 8

Monday

Monday morning, the day of the funeral, was cool and dreary. I dug out my all purpose black dress and headed out to the Slaughbach farm where the service was to be held. As far as I knew, the Amish did not embalm and often had the service within three days after a death. I wasn’t sure what to expect.

The line of horse drawn buggies clopping along was so long that I didn’t even try to pass. I just shifted into first gear and followed. I could see that there was a state police car with flashing lights escorting the procession.

When I finally got to the farm house, I parked near the barn and headed towards the house. I noticed a few state policemen and some other “English” in the sea of black cloaked Amish. I searched for a familiar face and saw Fannie. I gave her a hug and asked her how she was holding up. “Pretty well. I would like to have a talk with you soon. Do you think you could stop by tomorrow?”

“Of course. I’ll bring some more of those scones,” I smiled.

Just then I spotted my mother’s friend, Helen, who was waving at me. She grabbed my arm and said that she was there to represent the family and business. “This is just too dreadful. The poor family. We sent a lot of food out for serving after the service. We wanted to do something. I hear that donations are coming in from all over. The Amish don’t really like to accept outside help, but what can they do?”

The service soon started. It was in German, so it was difficult to tell exactly what was going on. The few German courses I’d taken and the semester I’d spent in Cologne helped me sort out a bit of the message. There were two ministers in charge. They took turns reading from the Bible, a hymnal and a prayer book. They seemed to be saying that we needed to think about helping the living survive this sad event and that we needed to find in our heart ways to forgive the person or persons who murdered her.

The casket was a plain pine box made by one of the men in the community. It was lined with a plain blue cloth. Constance was dressed in all white. Someone told me that Amish women often wear the white apron from their wedding day for their funeral. It saddened me that Constance would never see her wedding day. The Amish do not have flowers at the funeral, but there were several kerosene lanterns set around inside the house.

Following the service, the casket was carried by several men to the nearby cemetery. More words were spoken in German, then everyone recited the Lord’s Prayer. I was relieved to see that the grave was already dug. I had read that in some Amish communities, the graves were dug with the bare hands of the mourners. Constance’s family did throw dirt on top of the lowered casket and began what would be a year of mourning.

Everyone was invited to stay for a meal following the service. The aromas wafting from the farmhouse were inviting. Helen grabbed my arm, and we headed toward the house.

“I have no idea what they were saying, but I’m sure it was very nice,” smiled Helen.

As we walked with the crowd towards the house, it was clear that just about everyone knew Helen. “Is there anyone you don’t know?” I joked.

“Oh sure. I used to help out at the grocery store, and most everyone passes through there eventually. Although there are a lot of Amish from out of the area here, too.”

“Who are all the non Amish folks here?” I asked.

“Oh, close neighbors and people who drive the Amish to doctor’s appointments and on other trips. They make a nice living driving their vans filled with Amish travelers. Those horses and buggies are just too slow for getting to a lot of places.”

We filled our plates with fried chicken, mashed potatoes, corn, cole slaw and homemade cornbread and sat down at one of the large oak plank tables.

“My heart just breaks for the family,” sighed Helen. “I hear that Constance was her daddy’s favorite. Folks say he is really broken up over this. I can only imagine how painful this is. No one should have to bury their children.”

I nodded. “It sounds like Constance was a wonderful girl. She helped her sister with her children, taught school, worked at the cheese shop and was a joy to her family. When I was sixteen, all I cared about was getting a driver’s license, boyfriend and good grades. I just hope the police can find who did it before someone else is hurt. Have you heard anything?”

“Just that the police are working overtime and bringing in extra help. They want this solved too. Someone must know something. I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s someone local.”

“Really? What makes you say that?”

“There are just some mean and hateful people around here. I guess that’s true everywhere. Some times the nastiest people who come into the store are ones with food stamps and on relief. They act like the world owes them a living. Then there are those who are so full of hate towards blacks, Jews, gays and Amish.”

“Who should I talk to if I wanted to get some inside information on what really goes on around here?”

“Oh, Dana. Your mother said you’d be snooping around playing detective. I guess we’re kindred spirits. I’m kind of nebbish myself. You know who’d be good. Ron Fox, remember him? He drove school bus when you were a kid. He drives the Amish around now days. The Amish are much more likely to talk to him than the police. They just don’t trust outsiders too much.”

After the meal, people were milling around talking quietly. I worked my way over to where Ron Fox was smoking a hand-rolled cigarette. “I hope that’s tobacco you’re smoking there, Mr. Fox.”

At first, he glared at me, then he broke into a broad smile. “Dana! I heard you were back in town. It’s been a long time. I remember you back when you were that chubby kid with curly hair and glasses on my bus. You always liked to keep the other kids in line. I appreciated that.”

I didn’t recall doing that, but nodded. “You look good, Ron. I hear you’re still driving folks around.”

“It gives me something to do. Since my wife passed and the kids moved away, I have a lot of time on my hands.”

“Got any idea who’s behind all the trouble?”

“Oh there’s plenty of talk, but no hard evidence. I know some group out of Pittsburgh wanted to buy Jacob Slaughbach out. I heard it was the Brison Group. They’re pretty big in our state. Jacob’s got prime property, close the Cheese Shop, winery and craft stores, and they want to build a big hotel and resort here. They’ve offered him a ton of money, but Jacob’s not interested. I hear they were pressuring him a bit, but I can’t imagine murder. Some folks have made a ton of money from tourism around here, and I guess greed knows no bounds.”

“You’re right about that. I hope he’s told the police. Anything else you’ve heard?”

“Why are you so interested in this, Dana? I heard you were some kind of professor down in Florida.”

“Oh, I just like to get to the truth. That’s what historians do, too. Besides I love this town and still have some friends in the Amish community.”

“O.K., I hear you. I remember your dad always liked to set things right, too. Jacob and his family are just such good people. They’d help anyone out. I can’t imagine who could have a grudge against them, especially young Constance. That girl was a sweetheart. Her students loved her and she was the apple of her daddy’s eye.”

“I’ve heard that, too. Do you think killing her might have been random? Just because she was alone at the school and no one would see what was happening?”

“Could be. I can’t think of any specific Amish that anyone would target for murder. Some folks have been disappointed when they’ve hired Amish to do roofing and carpenter work. Some of their work is a little rough, but I can’t imagine they’d be mad enough to hurt anyone.”

“I appreciate your time, Ron. I know you want this all settled as much as anyone.”

When I got back to Helen, she was expressing her sympathy to Constance’s father, Joseph. Helen introduced me to Joseph and told him that I was trying to help the police find out who had murdered his daughter. He gave me a sad nod and was about to turn away, when I call out, “Mr. Slaughbach, if I could just have a moment of your time. I can’t imagine how painful this is for you and your family. I just have a couple questions, if you don’t mind.

Slowly Joseph Slaughbach sat back down at the table. “I know we have to forgive the person who did this, but I’m having such a hard time with that. What do you want to know? The police have been here so much. I don’t think there’s much they haven’t covered.”

When I asked him if he or anyone in his family had any enemies, he shook his head. He also said that he had gone over and over events in his mind, and could not come up with a reason why anyone would hurt his daughter. “Everybody loved Constance. She was so good and kind to everyone. Maybe she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

I thanked him for his time and spoke briefly with a few others then headed home. The skies had cleared and I put the top down on my Miata. It felt good to have the sun on my face and a breeze blowing through my hair. It was just so good to be alive and so unfair to think of a young life being lost in such a senseless and violent manner.

When I got home, I looked up a number for the Brison Group in Pittsburgh. I called and crossed my fingers (to save me from the sin of lying) and said that I had some land to sell in the Solitude area and wanted to speak to someone working on projects in that area. After being put on hold for several minutes, the robotic voice told me that there were no immediate plans for development in that area due to the declining economy, but that I could leave a number for them to call if the situation changes. I made a note to visit their headquarters soon and see what was really going on with their development plans. If they weren’t responsible for the violence, maybe it was scaring them off?

I spent the rest of the day cleaning the house and cooking some meals that would see us through the week. Mom wanted to hear about the funeral, so we went out and sat by the pond while Toby swam and tried to catch some of the blue gill that swam lazily near the surface.

Chapter 9

Tuesday

I was up early the next morning and looked forward to meeting with Fannie. I picked up some blueberry scones and fresh coffee and was at Fannie’s home by 9:30 am, knowing that she had likely been up for hours. As I knocked on the door the aroma of fresh cinnamon rolls welcomed me.

“I thought I’d provide the food today,” announced Fannie.

She looked tired and anxious, and I hoped that her health was okay. “They smell wonderful. I’ll leave the scones for later. How are you holding up?”

“Oh, Dana. This is so hard on all of us and I don’t suppose you’ve heard the latest. After the funeral, Eli and John decided to pull the boat down to the dam to do a little fishing and get their minds off things. They tied the horse up in the trees and when they got back, someone had shot the horse between the eyes and set fire to the buggy. It was awful. We’re sick about it. It was a good horse and they cost a lot of money. They had to walk home and didn’t get back until very late. I was so worried.”

“Oh, Fannie. That is awful. Did whoever did it leave a message? Did anyone see anything?”

“No. Nothing. We have no idea who would do such a thing. It’s sick. Eli is going to tell the police. We need all the help we can get. I’m sorry if I seem off. I just can’t stop thinking about everything.”

“Do you think whoever did this is aiming their anger at just the Amish community in general or certain people in particular?” I asked, taking a bite of the still warm bun.

“No one seems to know. We spend a lot of time going over who in the world would be so mad at us. We’ve always been harassed by some, but nothing like this. We think it must be someone who really resents us and or what we stand for.”

“Fannie, this is probably way off. But I was reading my old childhood diaries and came across the time when you had told me that you had a brother who had been shunned. Do you think there’s any chance that he might be angry about his treatment?” I asked, feeling embarrassed at raising what I figured was a pretty sensitive issue.

“I can’t believe you kept a diary with that. He passed away a few years ago. I had always hoped that we’d make amends with him and his family, but it never happened. I did secretly write to him over the years. He had a nice family and seemed pretty happy with his life. I know that he missed our large family, but he never sounded bitter. I’ve lost touch since he died. I’d love to meet his children someday. He has two girls and a boy.”

“Well, I doubt that his kids or wife would care about the past history that much, but if you don’t mind, I could see if I could locate them.”

“If you can keep it hushed up, that would be fine. The last I heard, they were living over in Ohio, this side of Columbus. I can give you his last address.”

“Good. I also heard some developers out of Pittsburgh were trying to get Jacob to sell his farm to them. Do you know if they’ve done anything heavy handed??

“Not that I know of, but the men don’t always tell the women all that’s going on,” answered Fannie.

“You know what, Dana. I think it may just be a crazy person doing this. We heard that there was an Amish man not far from here who just went crazy and killed his whole family. Maybe there’s someone like that around here.”

“Could be. I hear they might tear down the school house where Constance was killed.”

“Yes, they are. The kids are going to actually come next door to John’s house for schooling until they get the new one built. John’s wife, Elizabeth, has agreed to teach them until they find someone else. It’s funny thinking that this building will become a school again.”

“It sure is. I imagine the kids are still pretty upset. Our schools would provide counseling for all the children.”

“Well, the parents and elders have talked at length to the young ones. They need a chance to say how they feel about everything. I know that John’s wife will help them work through this, too. She’s such a warm and loving soul, a lot like Constance. I’m going to help out with their two children. They both have a genetic disorder called maple syrup urine disease. It could kill them if we don’t watch them and keep them on a very restricted diet. Constance was a big help to Elizabeth, too. She adored those children.”

Before long, some tourists came knocking at the door. I bid Fannie farewell and headed home, still no closer to figuring out who was behind the evil deeds that were creating havoc in our peaceful community.

I decided to see if I could locate Fannie’s shunned brother’s family. I had purchased an old one horse open sleigh from a shop near Columbus a few years earlier. Maybe Mom and I could take a day trip out that way and see what we could learn. I was also in the market for a nice set of sleigh bells. I proposed the idea to Mom for the next day, and she readily agreed. I decided to spend the rest of the day seeing what I could learn about hate groups in the area. The state university I attended had a wonderful library and there were probably still a few of my old social science professors in those halls of ivy.

First, I began to heat up some lunch for Mom and I.

“Oh by the way dear, I invited Helen to stop by to have lunch with us. I told her you made the best lasagna.”

“Well I learned from the best, Mom. When is she coming? There’s plenty. I’ll throw together a tossed salad and make some garlic bread.”

“That will be great, Dana. Helen will be here around noon. You also got two phone calls from Pittsburgh yesterday. I’m not sure what to say to her. I wish you’d come to grips with this.”

I decided not to chide my mother for the short notice on Helen’s coming to lunch or on her nagging me about the phone calls. Some of my past was catching up with me and I needed to deal with it, soon. I was so glad to see Mom enthusiastic and prayed that there wouldn’t be any set-backs. My brother had said she’d been depressed since Dad died, and then the small strokes had just made it worse.

Helen breezed in at noon carrying a Boston Crème Pie.

We caught up on all the news as we enjoyed the meal at the kitchen table.

“Well, how is your investigation going, Nancy Drew?” asked Helen, with a giggle.

“I’m getting no where fast, Helen. What have you got for me? I was over at my friend Fannie’s place this morning. Did you hear that someone shot one of their horses?”

“No dear, that’s really terrible! The police need to patrol better and find out who these troublemakers are. Why are people so intolerant of anyone who has a different lifestyle?”

I knew that Helen’s youngest son, who was a dentist in Pittsburgh, was openly gay. While Helen’s husband, who was now deceased, never came to terms with it, Helen whole heartedly supported her son. She had become a very outspoken voice against all types of discrimination and I really admired her for it.

My mother poured us more iced tea and commented, “You know I was thinking, back when I taught grade school, those little kids would come to school and tell me all kinds of stories about what was going on in their homes. Their parents would be so embarrassed if they knew some of things I heard. Do you suppose some child told that Amish teacher something that might have gotten one of the parents in trouble?”

“That’s not a bad possibility, Mom. I hadn’t really thought about that.”

“Another thing I thought of was something your father told me a couple years before he passed. Do you remember back when your Uncle Leo from Detroit gave him those marijuana seeds? He had plants growing out back. I was sure we were going to jail. He was so curious about what the big deal was with smoking grass and all. Well anyhow, one day years after that, he came in from hunting and said he’d come across a field way back in the woods that looked like folks were growing marijuana.”

“Did he think the Amish were growing dope?” exclaimed Helen.

“Oh, I don’t think he had any idea who it belonged to at the time. But you just never know,” replied my mother.

“Maybe that teacher saw a drug deal or something and they, whoever “they” are, killed her to shut her up,” suggested Helen. You, know that teacher, Constance, was just such a lovely young woman. A retired teacher friend of mine, Diane Wagner, and I actually visited her classroom last year. We were just curious about what an Amish school was like. I know Constance’s mother through the store, and she set it up for us. There were twenty-four children in the class. I was amazed at how well behaved they were. They sang songs for us. Then they did their reading aloud and math worksheets. Diane didn’t think too much of Constance’s teaching methods, but she’s was just a kid herself. And that school was so clean! Every Friday afternoon, the children would help the teacher give the school a good scrubbing. Constance even made the children take off their shoes during muddy weather to keep the room clean. She was such a good person, I really hope we can figure out who did this to her. I’m betting you’ll figure this out, Dana.”

“I think we’re like ‘Charlie’s Angels’,” I laughed. “If the three of us put our heads together, we should wrap this up real soon. The drug angle could be a possibility. We’re close to Interstates 79 and 80. I hear some folks refer to I-80 as ‘cocaine alley’.”

We finished lunch, and I left Helen and Mom debating whether or not the Amish drank or used drugs. I recalled that teenage boys, and sometimes girls, did go through a period of sewing wild oats before they settled down. They called it “rumspringa” and it gave them a free pass to explore the world outside while parents looked the other way. I’d heard that while most Amish teens used the time to court and date, some really went wild with drugs, alcohol and sex. There were tales of the boys hiding cars back in the woods. I’d even heard that some of the girls sought out abortions if the father wasn’t willing to marry her. Thinking of partying made me realize that it was time for me to get back on a college campus for my research.

The campus was only thirty minutes from Solitude. It was good to be back to where my love of learning had so flourished. I knew that a life of study and teaching were for me shortly after I arrived on the campus. I went directly to the social science building where I hoped that some of my favorite professors remained. I looked over the directory and recognized few names. It had been twenty years. Luckily I saw the name of Catherine Farmington. I had taken several courses on Colonial America and Pennsylvania history from her. She was so knowledgeable and dynamic as an instructor. I hoped she was in. I found her office and was pleased to see she had office hours from 2-4 pm. I knocked lightly. She looked up, her hair was shorter and graying but she still had the same welcoming smile.

“Don’t tell me, Diane, no…. Dana, right? I usually remember the really good and really bad students. I’ll leave it for you to decide which one you were! Didn’t I hear that you were teaching history somewhere in the South?”

I quickly brought her up to date on my life and what I was doing and asked if she had time to talk about the problems in nearby Amish country. She even recalled a paper that I had written on dating and marriage customs among the Amish. I was impressed. I asked her if she thought the crimes could be the work of hate groups.

“Well, Dana, Pennsylvania is home to a huge number of hate groups. William Penn would be so disappointed. But I don’t really know or hear too much about their anger being aimed at the Amish. They’re more apt to target Hispanics, blacks, and gays. Most of the harassment of the Amish has been by teenagers wanting to cause trouble. They call it ‘clayping’ and often just pelt the carriages with stones or run them off the road. There was a case out of state a few years back when a rock hit a six month old infant who died. That was so tragic. Of course the teens never intended to kill anyone. They just resented what they call the Amish hypocrisy… you know using phones but not owning them, riding in cars but not driving them. Plus the Amish are an easy target. Unless something really bad happens, the Amish don’t report it, and pretty much ‘turn the other cheek’. Then I heard about another case up in Canada where a broken beer bottle was thrown into a buggy. A young woman’s face was severely cut up. That time it was thrown by some Amish boys who had been drinking.”

“So that seems to suggest someone besides a hate group could be behind the murder,” I mused. “I think the hate group theory was my best guess. I’d read that during the world wars, the Amish were really harassed for being pacifists and thought maybe that the current lousy economy and our troops fighting in the Middle East could spur some negative reaction to the Amish. So do you have any other theories on what’s going on, Dr. Farmington?”

“Oh, please call me Catherine. I should be calling you doctor. Well you know, I do have a thought on this. You may not like what I tell you, but I have done some research and can’t help but wonder if there are some other things at play here. Some researchers have suggested that sexual abuse of children is almost a plague in some Amish communities. It’s difficult to get the numbers because most of it doesn’t get reported. There was a fairly recent case in Ohio where a girl had been raped by her two brothers through most of her adolescence. The Amish values dictated that she forgive them after they had been shunned for a couple months by the Church. When she proceeded to press charges and one brother got sent to jail, she was the one seen in the wrong. The Amish community felt she should forgive and not involve the courts.”

“That’s awful.” I closed my eyes, shuddering at the reality that some young women must face. “I’m not sure how I could ever find out about something like that, but if Constance, that’s the teacher who was killed, was going to turn someone in, they might have chosen to stop her.”

Catherine nodded solemnly. “I wouldn’t rule it out.”

“One last thing. I was talking to my Amish friend. She said that her grandchildren had something called maple syrup urine disease. She said it was a genetic disorder. Do you know anything about it?”

“Not really. I hear it’s pretty serious and that the urine smells like maple syrup. It’s interesting. The Amish don’t have converts, so they have been a virtually a closed society for over ten generations. There’s a lot of intermarriage. That makes them more prone to genetic diseases than the general population. I recently read an article about a county in Ohio. Only ten percent of the population is Amish, but they make up over 50% of the special needs children in the county. There are some studies going on that hold promise for treatment and early detection, but unfortunately most Amish communities are really far away from major hospitals. Too many Amish infants are sick or dying. There are nearly 100 genetic diseases that affect them more than most people. Some of the illnesses don’t even have names.”

“You’ve been so helpful, professor. Thanks so much.”

I decided to skip the library and drive home. I was shaken by the information that my former professor had given me to think about. And how in the world could I ever broach the subject of incest with my Amish friend?

Chapter 10

Wednesday

The next day dawned cold and rainy. I had hoped to make the trip to Ohio to check out Fannie’s shunned brother’s family, but my mother was clearly ailing. She seemed confused and complained of a dull headache. I decided to see what I could find out by telephone later in the day. It was probably a long shot anyway.

I sat down with the morning paper and my coffee. My letter to the editor had made this edition. With what I had learned in the last few days, it was probably one of my dumber ideas. But it was too late to take it back. Maybe it would bring someone out of the woodwork. I was sure that I would get some interesting comments.

The first phone call came from my brother. I’m not sure how he had gotten a paper so early, but I had to hold the phone away from my ear.

“What in the hell is wrong with you? You’re supposed to be the smart one in the family! Do you want to get you and Mom killed? Did you stop for a minute to think where this could lead? If there is some crazed killer or angry hate group around, they’ll be glad to make your life miserable.”

I tried to explain to Phil that I was hoping to get a reaction that I might be able to turn over to the police, but he wasn’t buying it. I also told him if he really believed Mom was in danger, she could go and stay at his house for a few days. That seemed to calm him down.

“Well, just watch your back,” he warned. “ I’ll try to stop up later this week. And quit playing detective. You’re not as smart as you think you are.”

I stuck my tongue out at the phone and hung up. He always was a pain in my neck. I guess Phil did make some sense, but I was impatient and mad about what was going on in Solitude.

I got a few other calls with varying opinions before I left for the post office. Once there, I heard a few more opinions. Most people were polite and seemed glad that I was trying to help out, especially when the police had come up with so little.

I stopped by the quilt shop on the way home. The owner, Lynn Gruber, was another old high school friend. Everyone always said she looked like Julia Roberts. I’d run into her at church, and she said to stop by. She had a beautiful display of Amish quilts throughout the store. “This is really lovely, Lynn. How did you get into the quilt business?” I asked, while touching some of the soft materials and picturing one on my high poster bed.

“Well, my mother was a quilter, and I was always interested in it and learned about it from her. After my husband ran off with his secretary (how cliché’ is that?), leaving me with three kids under the age of ten, I had to figure out a way to keep afloat. I wasn’t sure what to do with a Liberal Arts degree in art. So I tried this. It’s amazing what people will pay for Amish quilts. I ship them all over the world.”

“They are really gorgeous,” I agreed. “I always wondered why the so called “Plain People” would do such beautiful artwork.”

“It’s interesting. The Amish do look down on art for art’s sake. But the quilts serve a purpose and are a salvage art in that they make use of scraps of material. They use a lot of geometric designs since they frown upon realism. I think the Amish women really love to get together to work on them.”

“You mean like quilting bees?” I asked. “Did you know that Susan B. Anthony gave her first talk on equal rights for women at a quilting bee?”

“You are ever the history teacher, Dana. The Amish just call them ‘quiltings’. Anywhere from eight to sixteen women get together, have a big lunch and work for hours. They get to socialize and make some extra money. I can’t believe how people have actually stolen quilts right off their clotheslines!”

“Really! Speaking of crime, what’s your take on all the crime going on around here lately?” I wondered out loud.

“Oh, I don’t know. When it comes to murder, I always figure it has something to do with sex, money or greed. When Geoff left me, I could have killed him. He still sends nothing to help with the kids, so I could still kill him. He’s got a whole new family.”

“That is tough,” I sympathized. “I often wonder what kind of marriage Jake and I would have had if he gotten back from ‘Nam. Are there any prospective husbands around here?”

“Now really,” scoffed Lynn. “We’ve got Amish, bullies who harass them and old widowed incontinent men looking for a younger woman to take care of them. Take your pick.”

“No thanks, I’ll pass. So what do you do for fun around here?” I queried.

“Along with the shop and the kids, I do some dog shows. I’ve always loved basset hounds. We breed and sell puppies too. They’re so adorable. Now that’s one gripe I have against some of our Amish neighbors. Some of them are secretly running despicable puppy mills in their barns. They make a fortune at it. The mothers never get out of a small crate and produce litter after litter. When they can’t have any more puppies, they shoot them. It makes me sick. I’ve even heard that some of the Amish hammer sharp objects down the dogs’ throats so they are unable to bark. That way they can have over five hundred dogs in a barn and no one hears them.”

I felt sick. “Are you serious? I can’t believe something so horrible is going on. Doesn’t anyone do anything about it?”

Lynn shook her head. “Most of what they’re doing is perfectly legal. I have heard that some animal rights people have been around the area. They try to rescue these dogs at night. I heard that when the dogs come out of those crates, they drag their legs. They’ve never walked.”

I couldn’t bear to hear any more. I said goodbye to Lynn and wondered how anyone could be so cruel to innocent animals.

When I got home, Mom said that Sharon’s husband had called from the winery. I could about guess what he thought of my letter. I decided to get it over with and gave him a call. His voice was as loud as my brother’s.

“Do you really think that letter is going to help? You’ll just piss off a lot of people and create a lynch mob mentality around here. Leave it alone, Dana. You may mean well, but you’re not doing any of us a favor, especially the businesses.” He slammed down the phone.

Well on the bright side, I mused. I was getting some reaction. Now if I could just sort out the cranks from the actual culprits. I decided to take that ride to Hungry Ridge and see if I could find any old friends. I took Mom’s Jeep recalling that the roads in that area were one lane and full of potholes. Although Hungry Ridge was only eight miles from Solitude, it was still so unlike the quaint homes and farms that drew the artsy types and tourists to the area. It looked like many of the same junked cars that were there when I was a child hadn’t been moved. There were rusted out mobile homes and lots of angry looking pit bulls tied in front yards. I saw a familiar name, “Landover,” on a mailbox and recalled a quiet little boy who went to Consolidated School when I did. I also heard that he’d gone to ‘Nam and came back a hero but in a wheel chair. I decided to take a chance and knock on the door of the doublewide. I heard a couple dogs barking, then the door opened slightly. I saw an older looking woman peek out.

“Hi, my name is Dana. I grew up around here and was just looking up some of my old classmates. You wouldn’t happen to know Ralphie Landover?”

“He’s my son. I think he’s working out back in the garage. Go on round back if you want.”

I walked back to the garage and noted that I missed a sign that said, “Landover Body Shop.” I spotted Ralphie smoking a cigarette. He was in a wheelchair and had stubs where there should have been legs. “Hi,” I called. “I don’t know if you remember me, but we went to grade school together.”

Ralphie took a draw on his hand rolled cigarette and stared at me. He didn’t seem to recognize me, so I continued, “I’m Dana, we were in Mrs. Hoover’s class together. We played a lot of softball back then.”

Ralphie stubbed out his cigarette and shrugged. “That was a lifetime ago. You look sort of familiar. What brings you here?”

“Well, I moved back to the area recently and someone said that you might be able to help me out with a matter I’m looking into.”

“O.K., you’re last name was McKenzie wasn’t it? You were always sticking your nose in other’s people business.”

“I guess that’s true. My last name is Blades, now. I was married for a short time. My husband never came back from Vietnam, but I kept his name. I hear that you were quite a local hero.”

“Lot of good it did me. No legs, still livin’ with my mom. Real success story. I had always hoped to get out of here and make something of myself. I just….”

Ralphie stared off lost in the sentence and I wondered if he was on some kind of drug or maybe just depressed. He look sixty instead of forty and was lighting another cigarette.

“I ran into an old Amish friend. She said that the Amish were getting a lot of threats and harassment and I just wondered if you’d heard anything?”

“And what, you decided to come talk to me? What do you think, that I’m so bitter that I get my kicks tormenting Amish?”

“No, no of course not. A guy I met just said that some people around here might be involved. He seemed like a reliable source, but I never meant you. I’m thinking teenagers, young punks.”

I suddenly wondered what I was doing there. He had every reason to tell me to get off his property. Real smooth, Dana.

“Well, Dana, here’s what I can tell you. I could care less about the Amish. I mind my own business and they mind theirs. My Dad drove them around before he died last year. I know that there are some people who do hate their guts. They wish they’d have never come to this area. They hate the horse shit all over the road and the buggies slowing traffic. They think they’re a bunk of hypocrites who just use religion when it’s convenient. We got Klansmen in this county as well as militia groups as well as neo-nazi groups. I got no time for them and try to mind my own business. If you’re smart, you’ll do the same.”

I thanked Ralphie for his time and tried to apologize for bothering him. I drove home feeling stupid and almost ready to mind my own business. I decided that I might as well stop by the Junior Senior High School where I’d taught many years before and see if I could learn anything else. One of the men that I’d started teaching with was now the principal. I asked Mrs. Ralston, who’d been the school secretary thirty years, if it’d be O.K. to stop by the faculty room. She gave me a hug and said it would be fine. “The faculty really hasn’t changed all that much since you taught here. Teaching jobs aren’t that easy to come by. I’ll take you down and reintroduce you. You look great. You must have a picture that’s getting older.”

It was good to reconnect with a lot of my old colleagues. I enjoyed the ‘war stories’ about the kids. “So what are you really up to, Dana?” asked Cathy James, who taught math. “It sounded like you’d found the good life in Florida, living a the beach, a cushy college teaching job.”

“It was pretty good, for a while,” I admitted. “But my mother isn’t doing too well, and I was ready for a change. I’ll have to find a real job eventually, but now I’m looking into the violence and threats against the Amish.”

“You always were one for snooping around, Dana.” Laughed Sally Nelson, now the head of the English department. “I remember when you got the goods on that one principal, what was his name? He couldn’t get out of here soon enough.”

“As I recall, you gave me some help with that. I think his name was Anderson. Lars Anderson, what a screw up!”

“We can probably give you a long list of possible suspects when it comes to troublemakers.” said Brad Henderson, the football coach and phys ed teacher. “I’m not sure they are murderers though, that murder of the school teacher is pretty puzzling.”

Most of the teachers around the table nodded in agreement. “Dana, I have an idea, why don’t you come into some of my classes as a guest speaker? “ asked Sally. “ You were always so creative, and these kids could use a lesson on multicultural understanding. I don’t like some of the comments that I hear some of the students making about minorities and even the Amish. Maybe you can get some insight and feedback from the kids at the same time.”

“I’m not sure I can make much of an impact with one appearance, but sure, why not? Teenagers are usually a good source of information on what’s going on. When should I come?” I responded.

“How does this Friday sound? I have a class at two that would be perfect…typical sixteen year olds.”

I spent the rest of the day tending to my mother, playing with Toby and working on my finances. I’d managed to save quite a bit and had a small retirement, but realized that I was going to need to eventually do something else to fund my travel, books and antiques hobby.

By four o’clock, Mom seemed to be doing better. She reminded me that we should get her Jeep inspected and serviced. Even though Mom had reluctantly given up her driver’s license, she wanted to keep her car, insisting that it would be a much better winter car for me than the little red sports car. I called Leonard’s garage, and he said he was open that evening and could take care of it. The garage was about seven miles away, and I told him that I’d just stay with the car until they were done. I thought of a new Sue Grafton mystery that I could curl up and read in peace in the waiting room.

After a light dinner of vegetable soup, I got the Jeep started and headed over to the garage. While it was over ten years old, it was really in pristine shape. It would be safer to drive when the snow came. Leonard said the work would likely take two hours. Leonard asked me if I remembered the time when I was in college and lost the clutch in my VW Beetle. There had been a lice epidemic at the college and I was on my way out of town with some of my pals to buy lice shampoo. No one in the garage wanted to work on the car for fear of being infected. Finally, the baldest guy there did the job. We both shared a good laugh at the memory.

The time went fast. I enjoyed my new book and was glad that the Jeep checked out fine. It was dark by the time I pulled out of the garage. I looked forward to getting home to a hot bath.

It was a dark, cloudy, and foggy night. I enjoyed the winding mountain road while listening to my favorite oldies station. Suddenly some bright headlights were headed straight at me. I swerved quickly to avoid a collision. Then I felt myself falling. Everything went blank.

When I came to, I ached all over. I tried to move my arms and legs to check to see if anything was broken. Fortunately, I had my seat belt on. I didn’t think any bones were broken, but I did seem to have a cut on my forehead that continued to bleed. My chest felt bruised and sore too. I looked around and realized that I’d gone down an embankment and likely rolled over a couple times. The motor was still running and the car was setting upright. I tried to give the Jeep some gas to see if I could get back up on the road. The wheels spun in the tall grass or what looked like a corn field. I put the Jeep in four wheel drive and managed to get back on the road. Shaken, I drove slowly home. I looked at the clock on the radio and realized I’d only blacked out for a minute or two.

I pulled the Jeep in the garage and turned all the lights on. I was amazed that except for a couple large dents and scratches and a lot of mud, it came through the accident pretty well. My mother was sleeping when I came in the door and I soaked for an hour in a hot tub. I crawled into my bed wondering if it was an accident or someone telling me to back off. Even though I’d tell my mother it was an accident, in my heart I knew that I was making someone angry or nervous or both. I just wondered how whoever ran me off the road knew where I’d be. I’d either been followed or someone at Leonard’s garage tipped somebody off.

Chapter 11

Thursday

I woke the next day to a pounding headache. I found lots of bruises all over my body and had black eyes. I tried to touch my nose and decided that it was probably broken. The cut in my forehead didn’t look too bad, so I figured I’d skip on getting any stitches. I loaded up on Tylenol and covered as much damage as I could with makeup before facing Mom. She didn’t seem especially upset and just went and got out her insurance cards so I could call and see about getting some repairs done on the minor damages to the Jeep. I suggested we not bother reporting it to the insurance company. I told her I’d get it repaired locally and pay for the damages.

When I went out to retrieve the newspaper from the porch, I noticed a rock with a note attached to it by a rubber band. How original, I thought, probably another threat. I unwrapped it and sat down on a porch chair to read it. The teacher in me wanted to correct the spelling and punctuation.

Dear Docter Bitch,

Keep your nose out of are busines. we got are resons for what we do to them dam dutch. We dint kill that tcher. Are sex lifes our just fine to, asshole!

Members of yor favorite hate groop

I chuckled, thinking no one can spell that badly! I had no idea whether the note was a hoax or a follow-up to the road incident. I decided to pass it on to the police and let them handle it. Maybe the murder didn’t have anything to do with the rest of the violence. Thank God they hadn’t thrown the rock through a window and terrified my mother.

After breakfast I decided to try to track down the family of Fannie’s shunned brother. I was able to reach his wife. I explained my connection to Fannie. I told her that Fannie would like to keep in touch and was wondering how the children were. I could hear the pride through the phone line. “Well our oldest stayed on and is running the farm. He has a wonderful family, is a deacon in the church and serves on the school board.”

She went onto tell me that another child was a pediatrician in Columbus and the other a psychologist in Cleveland. I decided to cross them off my suspect list. I thanked her for her time and assured her that I’d pass everything on to Fannie.

By lunchtime my headache had eased up considerably, and Toby was parading around the house with his red leash in his teeth demanding a walk. I scrambled some eggs and bacon for a lunch for us, then headed out into the midday sunshine. The leaves were really starting to turn and despite everything, it felt good to be home.

I spotted a state police cruiser cruising through town and flagged him down. He pulled over and got out of the car. A tall good looking trooper smiled down at me.

“Jessica Fletcher, I presume, or is it Sherlock Holmes?”

“Dana Blades, and you are?”

“I’m Sergeant Tom Pierce, and I know who you are. You’re the busy body trying to show up Pennsylvania’s finest. I heard you were kind of cute, but yuck. What’s with your face?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m having a good face day. By the way I found this note on my porch earlier this morning. Please feel free to incorporate it into your evidence file.”

Trooper Pierce looked over the note and shook his head. “Probably some kids. You invite this kind of crap by writing stupid letters to the paper.”

He put the note in his pocket and tipped his hat. “Good to meet you. Have a nice day, ma’am.”

“Well, Toby, isn’t he the patronizing one. He is pretty cute. Did you see those blue eyes? We’ll show him, won’t we, boy?”

I think Toby rolled his eyes, but I let it go. We walked on until we got to the creek. I left Toby off the leash to run. I was just starting to relax, when Toby disturbed a huge turkey that nearly flew into my face! “That’s it, I’m going home and taking another hot bath and an afternoon nap.”

Just as I got home, I noticed that the police cruiser had pulled up in front of the house. Trooper Pierce stepped out and waved at me. “Dana, I really didn’t mean to come off so rude. I know your heart’s in the right place. Could we talk for a minute?”

I motioned him to sit down on one of the rockers on the porch.

“I just want you to know that we’re on top of this hate group stuff. There are several hundred groups across the country and Pennsylvania has more than its share. We have a task force on hate groups that I’ve been part of recently. Back several years ago, Pennsylvania was one of two areas chosen nationally for recruitment of hate group members. What with the bad economy from closing steel mills and coal mines, this area was ripe for anger and hatred. These groups prey on prejudice and fear. They like to blame blacks, Jews, gays and immigrants for all our problems. The interesting thing is that these groups actually commit only about five percent of all the hate crimes. The other ninety-five percent are committed by people who are exposed to these groups. We call them ‘lone wolves.’ It’s often young men in their late teens and early twenties who get their rocks off by burning crosses and bullying people who won’t fight back. We’ve got some names and are zeroing in on a few local guys.”

“Thanks for filling me in. I’m impressed with your knowledge of these groups. What are we doing to reverse the anger, hostility and violence?” I asked.

“We’re trying to work with church and community leaders to create a climate where people come not just to respect and tolerate diversity but to actually embrace it and see its positive aspects. It’s a real challenge, but we’re making some inroads. If you’re interested, you might consider getting involved with some of the people who are organizing programs for schools and other community organizations.”

“I’d really like that,” I replied.

Trooper Pierce told me a little more about some of the area people he was working with, then said he needed to get back to the barracks. I thanked him again, so pleased to hear about all the people working for good in the neighborhood. I was also wondering if the trooper was single. Good looking and smart and actually kind of nice.

A short nap really helped me to feel better. When I got up, I decided to regroup and figure out where to head next in my own “investigation.” I took the Jeep up to Ralphie’s garage. I bought a carton of his brand of cigarettes as a peace offering. Ralphie was in the garage working on a pickup truck fender. I pulled into the driveway and waved. He motioned me over with a smile.

“Hey, Dana. I’m sorry I was such a grouch yesterday. I had a hell of a hangover and couldn’t really place you. I talked to my younger brother, Glenn, after you left. He was a grade behind us. Mom dug out some old pictures and I figured out who you were. You know, you were o.k. Glenn remembered a report you gave on your dad. My brother was a better student than I ever was. He said he remembered it ‘cause you were so proud of your dad who had fought in the Pacific in World War II. Glenn said you cried when you told about how he lost his eye in the Battle of Guadacanal. But then I started to remember that you were a good friend. That was just so damn long ago.”

“I was really obsessed with World War II,” I responded. “I could never get Dad to talk to me much about the war. I knew he was over there for four years and said so little. But if I told him I needed something for school, he’d tell me a little bit. Ralphie, I wanted to apologize to you too. I shouldn’t have just dropped by like I did yesterday. I can see how you thought I was really out of line.”

“Damn, what happened to your face? You look like someone beat the shit out of you!”

“I think someone might have run me off the road last night. I rolled the Jeep. I was hoping you might be able to do some repairs on it. All in all, I was lucky. I’m afraid that I’m making some people uncomfortable.”

Ralphie wheeled his chair around the Jeep surveying the damage. “Sure, this won’t take too much. I can get at it tomorrow if you want. I’ll give you a ride home. And please just call me Ralph. My mother’s the only one who still calls me Ralphie.”

We got into Ralph’s van and headed out. I noticed that it was customized with hand controls. It was clear that Ralph took a lot of pride in his vehicle. I noticed several firearms on the seat behind us. “You’ve got quite an arsenal there.”

“Oh, I can still enjoy shooting groundhogs and the like. I also shoot trap at the Rod and Gun Club. It’s on our way. Let’s stop and have a sandwich. You might find it very interesting.”

I figured I didn’t have too much choice, so I nodded. “I like to shoot skeet. I was on a team when I lived in Florida. Do you have women who shoot at your club?”

Ralph lit a cigarette making be very nervous about his hand controlled driving. “Sure, there’s a few. You interested?

I shrugged as we pulled into the Big Bass Rod and Gun Club. There were a few pickup trucks parked in the lot. I saw a few young guys shooting skeet on the outside range. Ralph motioned me inside. “In our dry township, this is the only place you can get a beer with your burger.”

There were a few older men sitting at the bar who nodded at Ralph as we took a table. A huge bald guy covered with tattoos came over with a pitcher of beer. “Hey Ralph, you shouldn’t beat on your women. You’ll get a reputation.”

Ralph introduced me to his brother Glenn and told Glenn why my face was a mess. “Sounds like you better be careful, Dana. I remember how you liked getting in everyone’s business back in grade school. Some folks just can’t help themselves.” Glenn grinned at me and slapped me on the back. “How do you like your burger?”

Ralph lit another smoke and poured us each a beer. “Glenn has been a life saver to me. He got me set up in business and is always there for me. He has five kids who I love like my own. He named his oldest boy for me. He’s over in the Gulf now. Looks like we’re headed for another war. “

I nodded. “Saddam Hussein is saying it’s going to be another Vietnam for us. I wish someone would just take that guy out.”

“I’d love to do that. I hope the powers that be get it right this time. Don’t get me started. We could have won Vietnam, if the government had really wanted to. I get so damned mad…..”

“It’s a pretty upsetting subject for me too, Ralph. I can’t help but wondering if there’s any chance that my husband is still held prisoner over there.” I excused my self to go to the restroom. I noticed that the Ten Commandments were posted on the wall along with a photo of President Bush, pro gun posters and NRA bulletins. The restroom sign led me into the indoor shooting range. The targets included a picture of Jane Fonda, Saddem Hussein, and an Amish buggy. I shook my head and closed the restroom door behind me.

By the time I got back to the table, the burgers and fries were waiting. They smelled great and I dug in. “This tastes great. I didn’t realize how hungry I was.”

Ralph smiled. “Even rednecks can cook. So, what do you think of our club? You wanna join?”

“I doubt they’d have me,” I replied. “Our politics might clash too much. I believe in the second amendment, but don’t believe that the Democrats are out to take our guns away. Those targets on the shooting range creep me out.”

“Aw, they’re just a joke. It’s a free country. I figure shooting targets can be a good outlet for the anger and rage some guys have. A lot of them feel they’ve been dealt a lousy hand. Look at me. I sign up to serve my country and come back a gimp. My life has been hell. I’ve had more operations than I can count. The country looks down their nose at Vietnam Vets. And forget trying to meet a good woman. So I drink, fix cars and shoot my guns.”

I nodded sympathetically. “It must be difficult. But, I still don’t get blaming others for our problems. I think we make our own destiny. It’s like with the Amish, I really don’t understand why people can’t just live and let live. They don’t bother anyone.”

“Dana, you don’t get it. You’re a woman. Your folks had some money. You got out of here, then chose to come back. A lot of these guys have no choices. They got drafted into a war they had no interest in. They come back to few prospects and women who had moved on. They see your Amish friends living in a safe little bubble. They don’t get drafted, they only go to school to eighth grade, they got more money than they can ever spend. Hell, I read somewhere they even had camps to protect the Amish and other so-called conscientious objectors during World War I.”

“I’m beginning to see how it is. Are the Amish really that rich?”

“Hell yes. Glenn’s wife worked in a local bank for a while. She was amazed at how much money those Amish have. They have all those kids working for nothing. They take in a lot of dough and what do they have to spend it on. She said some of them are millionaires.”

“Well, they do work hard,” I replied. “I guess some folks could really resent the Amish, but killing an innocent young school teacher?”

Ralph took a swig of his beer. “Naw, I wouldn’t put it past some of the guys around here doing some of the other crap, but they wouldn’t have done that killing. I hear the talk around here. Everyone thinks that was much more personal.”

By the time Ralph dropped me off at home, I was pretty much convinced that the murder really was separate from the other crimes. I needed to get back to Fannie and see if maybe she could help me speak to someone in Constance’s family. I thought my best bet might be Fannie’s daughter-in-law, Constance’s sister, Elizabeth. I never had a sister, but figured Elizabeth might be one of the most likely people that Constance would confide in on a regular basis.

I told Mom I’d be back in time to fix dinner and took a ride over to Fannie’s. She was out in the garden picking tomatoes. As I drove up in my Miata, she waved. She looked concerned as I approached her.

“What happened to you?” asked Fannie.

“I think someone ran me off the road last night. I didn’t get to even see what the vehicle looked like. Both I and my mother’s car came through it pretty well. Then I got a message claiming that Constance’s murder was not committed by the same ones who have been doing the other stuff. I think the police have a pretty good idea and will be arresting some young guys soon for the harassment. I don’t think they have any real leads on the murder though. Do you have a few minutes to talk?”

“Yes, of course, but maybe you should keep out of this. You could get really hurt! But I guess you already know that. Anyhow, there was something that I meant to tell you the other day, then I changed my mind. I hate to betray Elizabeth’s trust, but the more I think about it, it could be important.”

I took a deep breath. Maybe I wouldn’t have to broach the subject of incest. I was so afraid that the suggestion, whether wrong or right could put a real strain on our friendship. That sort of thing can be so personal and explosive in any family.

“Well, I was wondering if there was any chance that I could speak to Elizabeth about her sister. I had a couple questions that only she might be able to answer.”

“Oh I don’t think so, Dana. She is very shy and very private. She doesn’t much trust any of the English and she is so bitter about her sister’s death. She does talk to me, and I only hope she’ll one day forgive me for sharing with you.”

We sat down on some outside chairs. Fannie began, “Elizabeth and her sister spoke to each other pretty often. Constance was so outgoing. She loved her teaching job as well as helping out at the Cheese Shop. When I asked Elizabeth if Constance had told her about anything unusual going on in her life, she had relayed an incident that took place a few days ago at the Cheese Shop. Constance had worked there that day and when she got home, she realized that she’d forgotten her lunch bag. She went back, not so much for the lunch bag, but because she usually carried her diary in her lunch bag. When she got any free time, she would write in it. When she got back to the Cheese Shop, it was closed, and the door was locked, but she saw that the owner’s car was still parked there. She walked around to the back, where the processing took place. She said she heard some voices shouting at each other. She waited a few minutes concerned that Sharon, the owner, was okay. Before long, a man came out the back door. When he spotted her, he asked what she was doing there. She explained that she’d left her lunch bag with her diary in it and wanted to get it. He told her to get out of there, that Sharon didn’t want bothered. She nodded and went home, but watched to make sure that the man had left, too.”

“Did she hear anything that they were arguing about? Was it her husband?” I asked.

“That’s what’s interesting, Dana. Constance said it wasn’t Sharon’s husband, but the two were talking about getting married. The man was angry because he seemed to want Sharon to try to get both the businesses and most of the money in the divorce. Sharon seemed to want to be fairer and give Bob and their kids the businesses and a large share of their money. Sharon said she didn’t care about money and just wanted to be with the man. The man seemed real worried about getting his hands on the money.”

“Did Constance know who the man was?”

“No, Elizabeth said Constance thought she might have seen him before, but wasn’t sure who he was. Elizabeth told her that she’d better keep quiet about what she heard. Now Elizabeth is so afraid that the man might have had something to do with her sister’s death. She blames herself for telling her to not tell anyone about what she’d heard. Then when Elizabeth heard that Constance’s lunch bag was missing from the murder scene, she felt even more certain that the man at the Cheese Shop was involved.”

“Who all do you think Elizabeth has told about this?” I asked.

“I think just me. I know she trusts me. She knows she should tell her father and husband, but isn’t sure what they might do. She’s so worried that someone else might get hurt. The bishops and elders say it’s best to move on with our lives and not focus on the crime. They even say that we need to forgive the person who did this to Constance.”

I shook my head, saying how much I hoped the person would be taken out of society so he wouldn’t harm any more innocent people. I thanked Fannie, promising her that I would try to not betray her trust. I agreed with her that this was most likely the key to figuring out who killed Constance.

I should have headed home, but knew I had to first stop at the Cheese Shop and talk to Sharon. I was feeling so uneasy, but couldn’t back off now. I raced down the road as fast as the turns allowed.

Sharon was behind the counter serving a customer. She smiled when she saw me. She looked pretty stressed out or maybe it was my imagination. After the customer left, I looked her in the eyes. “Sharon, I hate to pry, but I have to. I heard that you were having an affair, and I have reason to believe that it might be tied to Constance Slaughbach’s murder.”

She looked at me in disbelief. “What are you talking about? You can’t come in here making false accusations. Where did you hear this crap?”

“Does it really matter? It was a reliable source. I’m not saying that you had anything to do with the murder, but I think it’s all related.”

By then, Sharon was crying. “It’s over now. I ended it. It was a stupid fling. You try living in this boring place, married to the same boring man since high school. I just got caught up in the thrill of being with someone else who was so charming at first. It was kind of exciting, but murder?”

I gave her a hug. “I think Constance overheard you arguing with your lover. He got worried that she’d tell someone and decided to shut her up.”

“Oh, my God! Surely he wouldn’t do something that awful. I realized, too late, that he was bad news and just out for money, but I never dreamed he would hurt anyone.”

“Who is he, Sharon? We’ve got to set things right.”

She nodded slowly. “This is probably going to ruin me, my marriage, my business, my position in the church. I am so sick. It was Van White. I knew about his reputation, but he was so charming and fun.”

We talked for a good while trying to decide what to do next. We both agreed that Van should be brought to justice and feared he’d take off, if he had any idea that we were onto to him. We tried to decide whether to call the police or go forward a little more without them.

I convinced Sharon that it might be in her best interest to get Van to confess on tape. That way he might plead guilty and take a plea deal. A long trial would just bring more distress to Sharon and her family and business. We began to make plans as to how to get Van to make a confession.

Chapter 12

That night, Sharon agreed to call Van and set up a meeting in some place where she could confront him with the accusation, and he wouldn’t be likely to feel anyone was watching or listening. We agreed that a local park along the creek might be a good place. There were a few picnic tables and benches. Few people would likely be around on a weekday. I would set up a hidden camera and sound mike that could photograph any of the tables and pick up their voices. I’d take Toby for a jog through the park and activate the equipment an hour or so before they agreed to meet. I agreed to hide in the surrounding woods with binoculars. I’d also be armed and take action if Van attempted to harm Sharon. Planning for the worst scenario, we would write up a letter describing what we were doing and why and mail it to the police that morning.

We came up with several possible scenarios, and soon realized that we’d just hope and pray for the best. I went home to await a call from Sharon.

Sharon called me around 7:00 pm. She said that Van had agreed to meet with her before work at 8:30 a.m. the next day. He, too, seemed to think a neutral spot was a good idea. Sharon said she’d bring coffee. I told her which table would provide us with the best camera angle and bid her a good night.

I was up at 5:00 a.m. the next morning, and feeling terribly anxious. I had checked out all the camera equipment the night before and decided to go set it up before daybreak. When I was satisfied that everything was in place, I put a long play tape in the camera, ready to be switched on around 7:30 am. I tried to eat some breakfast, but my stomach was too upset. I dressed in one of Dad’s camo hunting suits and put my 38 pistol into its holster, praying I wouldn’t need to use it. I decided to leave Toby at home. I ran through the park, saw no one, and switched on the camera at 7:25. I continued on into the woods. I lay down behind some trees where I could get a good view of the tables and threw some leaves over myself and waited. Sharon showed up first around 8:15. Van came by ten minutes later. They embraced and sat down at the table I had encouraged Sharon to choose. I could not hear what they were saying, but it started out amicable. I could see them both tensing up as I presume Sharon confronted him with the accusation of murder. Van jumped up from the table knocking over his coffee. His body language said denial, then anger, then what seemed like compromise. Sharon was crying and reaching out to him, but he pushed her away. They talked a little more than he jumped into his car and peeled away with a squeal of his brakes. Sharon put her head down on the table and wept. I waited to be sure that Van wasn’t coming back and then jogged out of the woods and turned off the camera.

“How did it go?” I asked anxiously. “Did he confess?”

Sharon nodded. “At first he denied it, but he eventually confessed. He said he’d just stopped by the school to see what Constance had actually heard that day at the Cheese Shop. When she told Van what she’d heard, he panicked. He claims he just blanked out and stabbed her. He grabbed her lunch bag thinking that her diary would be there. It wasn’t there that day, but he had no way of knowing that.”

“Where do you think he went?”

“I’m not sure, but he said he’d deny everything that he’d told me and that if I was planning on going to the police, he’d see me in hell. Nice guy. My guess is that he’ll take off somewhere or go into hiding with some of his old prison buddies. I can’t believe I fell for that jerk.”

I checked the tape and was thrilled at the voice and picture quality. We got him! Plus, there was a diary somewhere that would very likely provide more evidence against Van. We needed to get the tape to the police. We decided to stick together until we turned the tape over to the police. When Sharon drove me back to the house, I spotted Trooper Pierce’s cruiser in front of the Post Office.

“This is our lucky day, the police have come to us!” I exclaimed.

We gave the trooper all the details along with the tape and said we didn’t know where Van was, but they might want to find him and bring him in for questioning. He gave us a look of disbelief, but got on the radio and got the word out. He said he’d be in touch and took off.

Sharon looked exhausted. She gave me a hug and said that she was going to the winery. “I’ve got a lot of explaining to do. I really hope I can save my marriage. Please say a prayer for me.”

“You were great! We make a pretty good team. Let’s just hope that they catch Van without any more violence.”

I got home and found Mom and Helen having coffee. I excitedly described what had taken place. They had lots of questions and couldn’t believe it.

“You really are quite a detective!” smiled Mom.

“Thanks, Mom, but it was really Fannie’s choice to confide in me that made all the difference.”

Mom gave me a brief hug. “She called again this morning. Don’t you think it’s time?”

I nodded and stepped out onto the front porch for some fresh air. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Somebody was in my Miata and pulling it out of the driveway. I took a flying leap off the porch and hit the ground running. As the driver turned to head down the street, I threw myself onto the hood and saw Van White’s face through the windshield. He swerved sharply, knocking me to the ground. He gassed the car and laid a patch of rubber with my tires. That made me furious. It looked like a scene from Magnum P.I., but this guy was no Magnum, even with his resemblance to Tom Selleck. Toby came running to my aid, licking my face and hands. I found myself once again checking for broken bones. I figured I’d just gotten a few more cuts and bruises to add to my already scary look. I toyed with the idea of chasing Van in the Jeep, but remembered that it was still at Ralph’s garage being repaired. For once, I’d call the police and let them take care of it. I’d had enough for one day. I called the state police and reported Van’s theft of my car and gave all the relevant information on my “baby”. I’d spotted Van’s car parked up the street and passed on that information too. I guessed it had either broken down or been out of gas. It had looked and sounded like it was on its last legs.

Then I remembered that I was to be at the school to teach a class at two! I loaded up on Tylenol, took a hot shower and patched my face up as well as I could. Maybe, I could use the battered look to my advantage. I pulled some of my old teaching materials out and sat down to review the lesson. I’d taught it several times in Florida, but needed to adjust it for high school students who could care less about what I had to say.

It dawned on me that with the Miata on the run with Van and the Jeep in the garage, I had no way to get to the school. Helen might lend me her Beamer, but with my luck lately, I decided I couldn’t really put someone’s else’s car at risk. As I was despairing about Solitude’s lack of public transportation, I remembered that Dad’s old ATV was in the back of the garage. As Dad had gotten older and couldn’t walk in the woods without pain, the “four wheeler” gave him a new lease on life and hunting. Phil and his kids still enjoyed riding the ATV when they visited. I had driven it a few times over the years and figured it would get me to the school in style. I’d just have to stick to back roads, creek beds and wooded trails. The police would be combing the area for Van and my beloved Miata, and I planned to keep out of their way (for once)!

I loaded all my teaching materials into the utility box mounted on the back of the ATV. Just to be on the safe side, I tucked my holstered pistol at the bottom of the box. I would probably be breaking some laws taking a weapon onto school property, but I needed to be prepared if I happened to run into Van White. I stopped by Solitude’s only pizza shop to pick up the “treats” I’d decided to use to try to win over Sally’s class. I tied the large boxes on top of the utility box and was on my way.

Chapter 13

I tried to focus on what I’d be teaching as I drove through the beautiful rolling hills that I’d know all my life, but my mind kept drifting to where Van might be and if the police had apprehended him yet. I was finally able to visualize all that had happened during the last week in a large suitcase. I would just set the suitcase aside until I finished teaching Sally’s class. It was a technique that I’d relied upon many times over the years to maintain my professionalism in the classroom while my mind was weighed down with other pressing and personal matters.

When I finally got to the school, the principal, Todd Lewis, met me at the parking lot. “Sally said you were coming. You certainly travel in style, Dana. We’re under virtual lockdown. The police said that there’s an all points bulletin out for the person they believe killed the Amish teacher. They think he’s driving a red Miata. I guess that explains your choice of wheels.”

“You got it,” I fumed. “I can’t imagine that he’d stay in the area, but who knows? He’s not the brightest bulb in the drawer. My car isn’t that fast and stands out around here. I guess he just took it when he saw the keys in the ignition, figuring the cops would be looking for his junker. Dumb move on my part.”

Todd helped me carry all my props to Sally’s classroom. There were no students in the room when we arrived. Sally looked surprised to see me. “I wasn’t sure you’d make it. Rumor has it that you were in on finding our local murderer. You look like hell. What happened?”

“I’ll give you the details later, but I got thrown to the ground when the guy stole my car and I tried to stop him. I hope the police catch him soon.”

I set up some learning stations around the room and explained to Sally how I hoped to teach the lesson. The bell rang and sixteen bored looking sixteen year olds dragged in.

Sally introduced me as Dr. Blades, an educator who grew up in Solitude. The kids perked up when she mentioned that I was also a part time sleuth who had just helped identify the man responsible for murdering the Amish school teacher.

I put the class into four groups of four and explained what I wanted them to do at each of the four learning stations. I also gave each student a handout with written instructions. They seldom listen the first time through. I explained that the fifth station would be after they returned to their seats and included pizza and salad. They were curious enough to humor me and went to their assigned stations. I’d allotted seven minutes per station so that there would be plenty of time for follow up discussion or debriefing as teachers like to call it.

Station number one featured an activity that featured the photos of a variety of people of different races, nationalities and physical features. Students were to match photos with labels. For example put all of the Jewish people in one group, all the Muslims in other, and so on. Students then self check their answers and hopefully realize that many of their stereotypes are incorrect.

The second station had a short video clip about Jane Elliot, a third grade teacher who taught her students a powerful lesson on discrimination by treating the blue eyed children better than the brown eyed and then reversing it. Her experiment had been repeated numerous times with various adult audiences. All who participated seemed to agree that it was a very effective way of helping them see how painful prejudice and discrimination could be. Students at this station had to brainstorm ways and times they’d been the victim or perpetrator of discrimination.

The third station asked students to examine pictures and profiles of people and decide which one was most likely to be a racist. They would hopefully see that discriminatory behavior was tied to low self esteem, ignorance and other negatives.

The fourth station had photos, poetry and short writings of people who had witnessed or been the victim of discrimination. It included some graphic photos of genocide in Nazi Germany, Africa and Cambodia. It also had descriptions of violence aimed at the Amish in Europe in the 1600s.

I gathered the students back together and debriefed them about the stations. They were more receptive than I had expected. I invited them to come up and help themselves to salad and pizza. Each individual salad just contained plain head lettuce. Each slice of pizza was plain. Students could add other vegetables and toppings to their salads and pizza. Once the students were seated with their snack, I asked how many took a simple plain salad or plain piece of pizza. No hands went up.

“Now I realize that people aren’t food, but most of us enjoy some variety in our lives. Would it be dull if all salads were nothing but lettuce? Wouldn’t life be pretty dull if everyone looked or acted just like us?” I queried.

A few students offered some interesting points to the contrary while most seem to agree that we needed to be open minded. I opened the class up to questions and wasn’t really surprised when the students were more interested in the murderer on the loose in their community. When the bell rang, the students rushed for the door, excited for the upcoming weekend.

Sally thanked me and invited me back. Drew stopped by and said that the police said it would be O.K. to send the kids home although they still had not apprehended the suspect. “Just who is this guy anyhow?”

I told them what I knew about Van White, and they both seem to have a vague idea of who he was. They invited me to go out for drinks after work, but I declined feeling more exhausted than I had in a long time.

As I left the building and was loading my stuff onto the ATV, one of the girls from the class came up to me. “I enjoyed your class, Dr. Blades. I was wondering if I could talk to you for a minute?”

“Of course, what’s your name?”

“Sandy Ross.” She hesitated, seeming to carefully choose her words. “It’s just that I have an older brother, and I’m afraid he might be involved in some of the things that are going on against the Amish people. I’ve heard him and some of his friends laughing about some of the stuff they’ve done. I know it’s wrong, but was afraid to say anything. I still hope you won’t tell anyone who told you, but I’ve written down the names of my brother and his pals. They need to grow up. They drink too much and then decide to go out and raise hell.”

“I really appreciate your courage. I’ll handle it as privately as possible. “

Chapter 14

The afternoon had turned sunny, and I looked forward to the ride home. I was anxious to hear if Van had been caught, and knew everyone would sleep better when he was behind bars. I took a rutted lane that should eventually lead to a gas line right of way and then a place on Big Bass Creek where I could ford it in the ATV. Over the roar of the ATV, I could hear rotors and spotted a state police helicopter above me. Well, Van must still be on the run, I mused. Maybe, he’d gotten out of the area before they got enough police cars to block off all the roads out of Solitude.

I ‘d gone about four miles when I spotted a figure ahead of me. I couldn’t believe it. It was Van! It looked like he was throwing brush over my Miata! I quickly stopped the ATV and dug my pistol out of the utility box. I fired two warning shots hoping to attract the helicopter and approached Van on the ATV. Van looked at me in disbelief.

“Dana! Don’t shoot. I’m unarmed. What the hell are you doing here? Are you obsessed woman?”

“Don’t flatter yourself. You jerk! This isn’t about you. What are you doing to my car?”

“I realized not long after I ‘borrowed’ it that the low gas warning light was on. Thanks a lot. I decided I best get off the road and hideout until it got dark. I’m sure the cops are all over the place. Give me that gun before someone gets hurt.”

“Right,” I spat. “You put your hands up and step away from the car. We’re about five miles from anywhere, so you’re going to take a hike. I’ll follow behind you in the ATV.”

I wondered if our township would ever get a cell phone tower. Maybe this situation would merit some consideration by the powers that be.

“Come on, Dana. You wouldn’t shoot me. Let’s just part company now before someone gets hurt. The cops will catch me soon enough and you can get out of this safely.”

“Sorry, Van. What you did is unforgiveable and I can’t wait to see you back in prison. You had no right to take that girl’s life.”

“I just meant to scare her. I would have taken a gun if I really planned on killing her. I just freaked out. I’d never hurt anyone. I’m a lover not a fighter.” Van pled.

I was so disgusted. “Van, I would have no problem shooting you. So get moving. If I can flag down a helicopter, you’ll save yourself some steps.”

The helicopter had moved on and we started the forced march. Van was purposefully taking his time and protesting constantly. “Dana, I’ve had nothing to eat or drink all day. I’m gonna pass out.”

O.K., I’m a soft touch, but I remembered that I had some leftover pizza in the utility box. I told him to sit down and dug out a couple of plain pieces for him and wrapped them in a napkin. This is the part where the bad guy gets the gun and blows away the good guy, I reminded myself, being vigilant to keep the pistol aimed at Van.

Van wolfed down the pizza, and I tossed him a bottle of water. He laid back on the grass. “Thanks, Dana. Just let me catch my breath.”

“One more minute, Van, then we’re moving.”

“Let me get this stone out of my shoe.” Van sat up, untied his tennis shoe and shook it. The next thing I knew, he threw his shoe and the water bottle at me while charging forward. I fired a shot but he caught the pistol knocking it out of my hand and the shot went over him. Van outweighed me by at least fifty pounds. He landed on top of me and grabbed my neck with one hand while reaching for the gun with the other. I tried kicking, biting and scratching, but in the end was overpowered. Van stood up pointing the gun at me while kicking me in the head and stomach. I wretched and fought blacking out.

“O.K. Dana, I don’t really want to hurt you. I just want to get the hell out of here. Do what I say and you’ll be free to go back to your little busy body life. Now stand up and get moving.”

I felt like I was going to throw up, but did my best to stand. I felt a loose tooth and there was some blood dripping from where I’d cut my forehead a few days earlier. I was as mad at myself as I was at Van for not seeing it coming. I was also mad at myself for thinking that I was going to need a good plastic surgeon if I lived long enough.

“Just take the ATV and go,” I coughed. You’ll have a good head start and can travel on the back roads and fields.”

“I’m not that stupid, Dana. No, we’re going to wait until it’s dark. There’s an old mine shaft close by. We’ll cover up the four wheeler with brush and hide in the mine or under some trees. You can help me figure out how to get out of here. I want to go to some country where they can’t bring me back. I just can’t go back to prison. I had some really bad shit happen to me there. Now show me how to run this thing.”

This time I was marching in front of the ATV. Van had tied my hands behind my back with some rope he’d found in the utility box. I knew where the mine shaft was so stumbled toward it. It was within a half mile. When we got there, Van ordered me to sit under a tree where he tied my hands behind my back to it and bound my feet. He then covered the ATV with brush and checked for gas. Unfortunately, it was pretty full. He got the pizza from the ATV and sat down under the tree. “ You better eat something, when I take off, I’m going to duct tape your mouth shut.”

I shook my head. “ I feel too lousy right now. I don’t suppose you have any aspirin on you?”

“My luggage was in your Miata. Just sit there quietly and let me think. It will be dark in about three hours and I need to figure things out.”

I felt sick knowing that my mother would be frantic. I’d never forgive myself if she had another stroke on my account. I wondered how long it would take her to call Phil or Helen or the police. I actually dozed off for a few minutes as Van sat talking to himself.

“I woke up when he kicked my feet. “Hey, wake up.”

“Dana, How can I get to Cuba? I think I’d be safe if I could get there and start a new life. You lived in Florida all those years. You must know some Cubans.”

“That’s a great idea, Van. I’m sure they’d love to have you. Most of the Cubans I know in Florida wanted to leave Cuba though. I suppose you could steal a boat or take a raft over like the Cubans who come here. Get to Key West, then shop around.”

“I guess the biggest problem will be getting out of this area undetected. I need to come up with a disguise. I do have a few old girlfriends around who might hide me as I try to get away.”

“Good luck with that.” I snorted. “Those girlfriends didn’t know you are a murderer. I imagine your mug will be all over the news. If it were me, I’d follow the creeks and rivers. Most of them flow south.”

“You know what, Dana. You could actually be a decent person, if you’d just mind your own business. What is it with you? No husband, no kids, no job to speak of and living with your mother. Most folks would say that you’re a loser. You’re not bad looking when your face isn’t all beat up. What gives?”

“None of your damn business. I’m happy. I stay out of jail and pay my way. That’s a lot more than you can say!”

“Sure, but let’s face it, Dana. You’ve had all the breaks. You had two decent parents, a nice home, plenty of money to go to school, nice clothes and cars. If I’d had all your privileges, I’d have really made something of myself. What do you think your life would be like if your mother was a drunk who slept with every guy around. When she finally gets it together, she gets killed. I never even knew my old man, but have been told he was a pig.”

“Oh stop feeling sorry for yourself. You had a grandmother who loved you and you blew that. You have a cousin who has stood by you. You just want to blame everyone but yourself for your life. A lot of people have overcome a lot worse. Some women would even say that you’re nice looking and charming. You could have been someone if you’d been willing to work at it. You had Sharon fooled. She actually fell for you. But you got greedy.”

Van actually got tears in his eyes. “You make some sense. I know. I’ve made a ton of mistakes, but there are things you don’t know. I actually got raped by some of the guys in prison and had to be this one slob’s “girl friend” if I wanted to stay safe. What do you think that does to a man?”

I shook my head. “That Amish girl was innocent and just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. Did you really think through what she could have even done to you? Worst scenario was that she told folks you were fooling around with a married woman and you were a greedy pig. Big Deal! I’m guessing she would have kept it to herself and it would have been forgotten.”

“ At that point I was hoping that Sharon would come around and come back to me and still try to get most of the businesses and money. I had a couple plans where we could frame or blackmail her husband to divorce her and expect nothing. Either way, I just didn’t want to take any chances. I hate loose ends and I was so pissed at Sharon. We could have had a really good life together, no money worries and respect from people. She really blew it. I would have been good to her. I know people see me as a big joke carrying out groceries like some teenager.”

“Van, I doubt that you’re capable of loving another human being. You’re a real screw up with a lot of issues and mental problems.”

“Is that so doctor? Well I’ve had counseling in the service and in prison. They called it anger management or some bullshit, I told them what they wanted to hear and they passed me on. They tried to drug me too with antidepressants and other crap. All that did was make me a failure in the sack.”

If I hadn’t been hogtied and fearing for what he’d do next, I could have felt a wee bit of sympathy for Van. I’d taught a lot of students with similar stories. For some of them, one strong mentor or developing faith made all the difference. I said a silent prayer and asked God to help me see Van the way that he did. I prayed even harder for someone to come by and rescue me from this nut.

Chapter 15

It was starting to get dark and I decided that I had better eat and drink something.

There were still several pieces of pizza and two bottles of water left in the ATV box. I asked Van for the water and two slices. He untied my hands from the tree but kept them tied together at the wrists. I ate as much as I could stomach.

O.K., this is it. Once it’s dark, I’m going. You’re going into the mineshaft. I’ve been in there and you can go back several yards. I’ll bet your granddaddy was a miner. Maybe you can channel him for a rescue. Now get up and get moving. He refused to untie my feet and made me hop into the mine. It was dark and damp and smelled like excrement. “I’m going to tie you to those timbers.” He motioned with a flashlight he found on the ATV. “You get too frisky, you’ll bring the whole mine down on top of you. You’re pretty smart, so I figure you’ll get loose somehow. I’m gonna tape your big mouth shut so there won’t be any screaming. I’ll even leave you a few slices of pizza in case you get the tape off your pie hole. Or maybe it will just draw the rats to you. Oh well, you won’t be able to see them. Good luck, Dana. It’s been real.”

I glared at him, but it was lost on his back as he left the mine. At least I was alive I mused. I should have asked for a potty break after drinking the water. Fortunately teachers have some of the strongest bladders. I tried to come up with an escape plan, but feared bringing the timbers down on top of me. I tried to work my feet loose and rub the tape off with no success. It was dark outside and pitch black in the mine. I hurt all over and decided to pray. I recalled the prayer of Jabez in the Old Testament. It was one of my favorites and had served me well in many tight situations:

“Oh that You would bless me indeed, and enlarge my territory, that Your hand would be with me, and that You would keep me from evil, that I may not cause pain!”

I felt comfort in the prayer, knowing that God had answered his prayer and then continued praying for my mother and her well being. I eventually dozed off for what seemed like an hour or so. I woke up to the sound of dripping water and stones falling from the ceiling of the shaft. I felt certain something was moving around inside. I couldn’t get enough air into my lungs and thought I was going to pass out. I felt something furry scurry over my legs and thought it was eating some of the pizza. I heard an owl hooting nearby and prayed for daylight.

Daylight finally broke. I could see slightly outside the dark shaft, and it looked like it was still raining. I continued to try to loosen the ropes on my hands and feet, making little progress. I noted that something had been eating at the pizza and was glad that I hadn’t been bitten. I figured that by now, there must be some people searching for me as well as Van. Hopefully they’d trace my last whereabouts to the school and would branch out from there. The ATV might have even left some kind of tracks, that is if the rain hadn’t erased them.

I tried to think good thoughts and visualize some of my favorite places. I replayed my trip to Santorini and seeing Toby for the first time. He was a scruffy little fur ball that followed me through the narrow streets. Then I pictured the beautiful beaches on Sanibel Island in Florida where I loved to swim in the turquoise waters and pick beautiful seashells from the shore. Next I pictured a fall drive through the Berkshires and a winter slide down the mountain at Holiday Valley. Most of all I pictured my childhood home in Solitude and my mother’s worried face. I vowed to get back there and never stress out the dear woman again.

The day dragged on and the rain seemed to continue. I was cold and damp and beginning to dread another dark night in the shaft with my furry friends. Van really seemed to know how to tie secure knots, probably from kinky sex, I mused. I kept looking around for anything that I could use to cut through the thick rope. There were some rocks, but they were all out of my reach. I was toying with the idea of chancing pulling on the timbers to free myself when I thought I heard some voices outside. I tried to scream, but with the duct tape nothing came out. Suddenly a furry little creature came running up my leg. Before I had the time to be frightened, I realized it was Toby! He started licking my face. Then he noticed the pizza and helped himself to that. I tried to motion with my head to him to go get help. I even gave him a soft kick to move out. Before long, the voices got closer and someone with a flashlight was entering the mine with a barking little dog, named Toby. I recognized my little brother’s silhouette as he flashed the light on me. “Thank, God!” he exclaimed. “Remind me to kill you once I get you safely out of here.”

He cut the ropes and mused about leaving the tape in place. I took it off myself and gave him a big wet kiss on the cheek. “I’ve never been so happy to see you. Is Mom O.K? Phil, I was actually minding my own business, well pretty much, when I ran into Van on the run from the law.”

“I know, Sis. When Mom called me she said you’d been at the school teaching a class. And yes, Mom’s fine. She’s tougher than we think, but she’ll be a lot better when she sees you.”

“What about Van? Have they found him? He took off when it got dark on the ATV. He claims he’s headed to Cuba! What a jerk!”

Last time I checked in, they hadn’t found him. The police figured he’s probably armed and dangerous and have really discouraged people from going out and searching for you. I kind of figured the route you’d have taken from the school and borrowed an ATV. You can thank Toby for leading me to you. He must have picked up your scent.”

“Well that, or the scent of the pizza that Van left for me,” I laughed. “I can’t wait to get home and take a hot shower.”

“I think you had better touch base with the police first. They really need to apprehend Van before he hurts someone else.”

“Well if it’s any help, I told him to follow the creeks. He’s really pretty dumb…like most criminals.”

Phil drove us home on the borrowed ATV. Mom was out on the porch waiting when we pulled up. I ran to her and we hugged, both crying. “Mom, I’m so sorry. I never meant to worry you like this. I promise to get my act together.”

Mom insisted on riding along with Phil and I to the state police barracks where I wrote out a statement and answered endless questions. I remembered that I had the names of the trouble making teens on a slip in my pocket and gave it to the police too. They got a little pissy when I refused to tell them who gave it to me, but overall they were actually pretty nice to me considering how most law enforcement types feel about us sleuth types.

By the time we got home, I was dragging. A hot shower and some comfort foods including chicken soup, rice pudding and chocolate chip cookies, brought to the door by Helen helped restore my spirits. I crawled under the covers hugging my buddy Toby and thanking God for prayers answered. Phil insisted on staying at the house just in case Van circled back and decided he needed to shut me up for good.

I woke early Sunday morning. Phil was cooking bacon and eggs, and I felt starved.

“We took a vote,” smiled Mom. “We’re not going to church today. I think God will understand and you need some rest.”

I nodded in agreement. I’ll be content to do the Sunday crossword puzzle and watch the Steeler game. I slept almost the entire day.

Chapter 16

Monday

I felt like a new person by Monday morning. I insisted that Phil go home and that we’d be fine. “Despite the murder, I don’t really think Van is all that dangerous. The only reason he’s armed is because of my stupidity. He’s just running scared. He’s bound to be found soon.”

“O.K., Dana. Would you just please stay out of it? The police will find him soon, without your help. Just lay low and take care of Mom.”

I nodded. I had no idea where Van was anyhow. I’d given the police everything I knew, including the possibility that he might seek out some old girl friend to shelter him. I suddenly thought of his cousin, Violet, the minister’s wife. I doubted that she’d be so foolish, but decided I’d better give a call and make sure the police were aware of the connection.

The phone rang just as I was about to make the call. It was Ralph saying that I could pick up the Jeep. I told him that I’d be there sometime that day thinking I’d bum a ride from someone. I decided to take Toby for a walk hoping I’d run into someone willing to give a lift to a lady in distress.

As we strolled down Solitude’s main street, once part of the Great Shamokin Way, an ancient Indian trail that linked the Allegheny and Susquehanna Rivers, I spotted a police cruiser parked by the bakery. Trooper Pierce was coming out with two coffees and a bag of donuts. “Hey, Dana,” he called. “I was just coming by your house.”

“Whatever it is, I didn’t do it. I’ve been home minding my own business. What’s up?”

He motioned me to sit down at one of the outdoor picnic tables. “I hope you like your coffee with plenty of cream, and I’m betting that mutt of yours enjoys sweets. I just thought I’d bring you up-to-date with the search for Van White. You’ve been through a lot and at least one policeman admires your grit.”

I grinned at him while giving Toby a donut hole covered with sprinkles. “It’s been a real adventure. I thought you guys would have found him by now.”

“I don’t need to tell you how thick the woods are around here. We did find your all terrain vehicle this morning. It was stuck deep in the mud in a stream that feeds into Big Bass Creek. People constantly overestimate the power of those four wheel drives. When they haul it in we’d like you to look over it and see what’s missing. You should be able to pick up your Miata in a couple days too. They should be done going over it.”

“Good, I’m down to a kayak and a rusted out ten speed for transportation. So I guess Van must be on foot. I was wondering if you knew about the minister’s wife being his cousin. She and he were friends.”

“We’ve interviewed her and are watching the parsonage. I don’t think she knows anything. We’ve had lots of calls with people thinking they saw Van in everything from Amish women’s garb to hunting suits to state police uniforms. Nothing has panned out. He could be miles from here or still holed up nearby. It’s frustrating. Do you have any ideas, Dana?”

I couldn’t believe a police officer actually wanted my opinion and damn I didn’t really have one, for once. I scrambled for something half intelligent to say. “ There are lots of old hunting camps around where he could hide out. Or, I wouldn’t be surprised if he charmed some older lady into giving him shelter or a ride out of the area. Speaking of charming and older women, could I get you to give me a ride out to Ralph’s Garage to pick up the jeep? Maybe someone around there knows something.”

We finished our coffee and donuts and headed out to Hungry Ridge. The Jeep looked wonderful and I wrote a check and thanked Ralph for getting the job done so quickly. I introduced Ralph to Trooper Pierce who asked him if anyone around there had heard or seen anything.

“I haven’t heard anything useful at the club although it’s all they’re talking about.” Replied Ralph. “But if that guy’s armed and tries to break into someone’s house or garage, they’ll shoot first and then ask questions.”

It felt good to have a vehicle again. I decided to stop by Fannie’s on my way home. There was something comforting about visiting my old grade school. Things seemed so simple and safe back in 1960. Being around Fannie was also comforting. She had a goodness about her that made me seek her company.

When I arrived at Fannie’s things were not calm. Elizabeth had started teaching the children and they were on a recess break. Kids were running and laughing all around. I spotted Fannie walking through the yard with her two grandchildren. I hailed her and she smiled and waved me over. “Dana, How are you doing? I heard that you were almost killed pursing that murderer! I blame myself for telling you about Constance and the diary and such. I should have kept quiet.”

“Are you kidding? You’re my hero. If it wasn’t for you, I doubt that the police would have solved the case yet. I just tried to get things in motion. It’s the most fun I’ve had for a long time. Now they just need to locate him.”

“Oh yes, the police have been around here a lot passing out fliers and asking questions. Surely someone knows something. What do you think?”

I imagine he just travels at night. He’s smart enough to law low during the day. Maybe he’s found someone willing to hide him. I’m just not sure.”

“Well I hope he gets arrested soon. We all really appreciate all the work that the police and you too, Dana, have put into this. It’s been a real nightmare. At least a lot of the violence and threats have died down in the last few days.”

We walked and talked until her grandchildren got restless and she took them into the house. We had some tea and sat on the porch until I headed home to fix some lunch for my mother and I.

My mother seemed nervous and very anxious when I came in the door. “Dana, I just can’t sleep thinking about that murderer on the loose. The police aren’t having much luck finding him. Why don’t you and I see if we can track him down? You’re smart and I’ve got nothing to lose. Where should we start?”

“Let’s start with some lunch first, Mom. O.K. if I heat up some of the Shepherd’s Pie? Then we can do some brainstorming. I want to find him too, but I don’t have any sound theories worth exploring. Maybe you can help me come up with ideas. Just don’t tell your son. He loves to worry about us.”

“Oh, I know, dear. I do love that boy, but he forgets that I made it through two world wars, a great depression, your dad’s drinking and a few other crises. We’ll be fine. I’ve had more fun since you moved back than I’ve had in years.”

I grinned and gave my mother a big hug. “How about pouring us both some iced teas? Maybe after lunch we can take a little ride in the jeep.”

As if on cue, Helen entered as we sat down to eat. I assured her that we had plenty and invited her to join us. We talked about little else than Van’s whereabouts.

“Your mother and I have been running around this area since we were tykes. I remember that during Prohibition, there were all kinds of stills hidden back in the woods. My grandfather had one. He also had a shack he stayed in when he was busy making booze. I’ll be a lot of those places are still standing.”

I nodded. “I was thinking about old hunting camps. Some of them set empty until November and deer season. Van would know that and could break in one and hide out indefinitely. He’d probably find plenty of food and booze too.”

My mother spoke up. “There are a lot of abandoned cabins down at the old park. They’re still standing but they haven’t been rented out in over a decade. And my dad was the foreman for the gas company. Sometimes he’d take me along to check on the wells. We’d ride his old company jeep along the right of ways that were well off the beaten path. He used to show me old caves. He said when he was a boy, people would actually live back in the caves. That could also be a good hideout.”

“Plus all the abandoned mines. Why don’t we just take a ride around this afternoon and see if we can see any evidence of anyone having disturbed any places visible from the road?”

We cleared the table and everyone, including Toby, piled into the jeep. I grabbed a camera just in case we saw something worth recording. I toyed with the idea of taking a weapon, but decided it was not necessary and too risky. I’d just gas it and peel out if we spotted anything dangerous.

My mother reminded me of the best way to get to the road that went through the old abandoned park on Big Bass Creek. She and Helen started reminiscing about their teenage days at the park. “We used to have so much fun here,” giggled Helen. “We both met the guys who would become our husbands here, but we had a good time with a lot of others young men too.”

“I’m not sure I want to hear this,” I joked. “Let’s just focus on finding Van.”

There were five brick cottages still standing but in very poor repair. Windows had been broken out and doors were rotted. “Who actually owns these?” I asked.

“I heard it was a niece of the owner, Walt Hendrikson, who passed away some time ago. The niece supposedly lives out in Oregon and has little interest in the place. It’s a shame, it used to be so nice here,” said Helen.

We each gazed closely at each structure, trying to see any evidence of habitation. It looked like there had been several drinking parties held around the cabins, judging by the number of beer cans. “The grass doesn’t look like it’s been cut, and I don’t see any evidence of anyone tramping it down recently. I don’t think anyone’s been here.”

“Me neither,” agreed my mother, let’s go on back this road. I think there’s a cave about a mile from here.” We drove on and I hoped that the Jeep would make it safely over the deep ruts without putting anyone’s back out of whack. Mom and Helen bounced around, but seemed to be enjoying our adventure.

“We need to get out and do more of this sort of thing,” smiled my mother. “Dana, up there, see those rocks, the cave is up there. You can see it from the road when all the leaves are off the trees. Let’s take a walk back and see.”

“No, You two stay here. It’s too rocky and I don’t want to risk any falls. I left the Jeep running in case we needed to make a quick exit. I grabbed my camera and flashlight, then Toby and I jumped out of the Jeep. “If I don’t come back, tell Phil you made me do it,” I joked.

Toby reached the cave entrance before me and started barking. I shined the flashlight into the cave and saw what looked to be recent food scraps. There were also some plastic cups, beer cans and cigarette butts. There were some newspapers dated six months back. I didn’t recall seeing Van smoke, but decided it was possible that he’d been here recently. I quickly took a couple of photographs trying not to disturb the area.

When we got back to the Jeep, I reported my findings. “I knew it,” smiled my mother. He can’t be far away if he was here. Let’s keep going back this road. This road actually ends up at the winery, if it’s still open that far.”

“Oh great, I’m putting the Jeep into four wheel drive. If we get stuck back here, no one would find us until deer season.”

We continued on slowly until we came to where it looked like the bridge over a small stream had been washed out. I noticed that there were tire tracks where some people had gone around and forded the water. “Hold on, we’re going for a swim. Cross your fingers. I don’t think it’s too deep.”

We made it across the stream and back onto the dirt road. “Look,” my mother shouted, “I just saw something move over there in the woods. Dana, stop the car!”

I obeyed and we all jumped out, Toby took off barking before I could grab him. I too saw a shadowy figure running along the creek crashing through the brush. He or she was much too far away to identify and I refused to consider pursuit and leaving Mom and Helen alone. I shot another photo of the area and called for Toby. He came back obediently but wet and muddy. I wiped him down with an old blanket I found in the back of the Jeep.

“I’ll bet that was him!” exclaimed Helen. “We almost had that no good. Let’s head him off.”

“There’s no way to be sure it was him. It might have been someone hunting out of season, a couple star crossed lovers or someone else up to no good. I think I better tell the police what we saw. Hopefully they’ll appreciate it.”

“Come on, Dana,” said my mother. “I think we know what area he’s in now. Let’s stop at the winery and have a drink to celebrate. I’m buying. It’s not too much further.”

We pulled into the winery. I was amazed at all the mud and dirt that we managed to get on the Jeep with on our adventure. We went in and had a seat by a window that overlooked the vineyards. Bob looked up from some paperwork and sauntered over. “Hello ladies, What can I get you? Would you like to sample some of our new reds?”

“Bring us a bottle of your best champagne,” smiled my mother. “We’ve had quite an afternoon.”

“Sorry girls, no champagne, how about a nice chardonnay? What were you three up to anyhow?”

I cut Helen off, before she blew our cover. We were just taking a ride on some of the back roads. Both Mom and Helen met their spouses there back in the 1930s. It’s a shame it’s gotten so run down.”

“Do you really think it’s smart to be out on these back roads when there’s a killer on the loose?” asked Bob.

“Oh, I suspect he’s long gone from this area.” I replied. “We can’t live in fear. I don’t think Van would be that dangerous unless he was cornered.” I was clearly uncomfortable discussing Bob’s wife’s ex-lover. Bob seemed to be so too and changed the subject.

“I wouldn’t mind purchasing that old park. It has some real possibilities for a restaurant. The woman who owns it wants a small fortune for it though. Would you like some cheese and crackers with your drinks?”

When Bob got out of hearing distance, I whispered to Helen, “He really hates it when amateurs like us interfere with ‘police business,’ plus this is all so personal to him. I’d rather tell what we saw to an officer that appreciates us more.”

Helen nodded knowingly. We toasted our drinks and enjoyed the snack. By the time we got home, Mom, Helen and Toby were all dozing. I got them safely in the house and decided to give Trooper Pierce a call. I got his answering machine and told him that I had some interesting information and to call me. The wine had made me sleepy too, and I decided that a nap might be in order.

I woke up an hour later to the phone ringing. It was Trooper Pierce. I explained to him what I’d found. I told him I also took pictures and would get them developed if he wished. He showed a mild interest but said that it could have been anyone. He said he’d appreciate the photos and visit the sites in the morning. I was hoping he’d asked me to go along, but he just asked for directions, which I gave him.

I heated up some soup for Mom, and I and gave Toby some leftover hamloaf with his kibble. We watched a little television, one of the Law and Orders and the late news. I retired praying that Van would be found soon and we could go back to a more normal routine.

Chapter 17

Tuesday

Mom was up before me, sipping some hot coffee. “Where should we look today?” she asked, brimming with excitement.

“I need to drop the film off to get it developed. Trooper Pierce is going to check out the information we found yesterday. I also promised him the photos. We can take another ride later this afternoon. You seem to have a good nose for this. I’ll let you be the guide.”

“Sounds good. Helen is going to drop by with some old maps of the area. We’ll figure out a route for you.”

I decided to take Toby for a walk before I ran my errands. We took our usual route up through main street then over along Big Bass Creek. It was a quiet morning. My thoughts were interrupted by the rapid clip clip clop of a horse and buggy approaching us. I looked up and was surprised to see Fannie and Eli coming towards me.

“Good morning,” I smiled. “What are you two up to today?”

I noticed that Fannie looked very flustered, her face was beet red. She nodded at Eli to speak for her.

“We’re looking for you, Dana. Something has happened and we need to discuss it with you.”

“Of course,” I replied. “Why don’t we go down to the house and have a cup of coffee? My mother will be glad to see you.”

Toby and I ran along with the buggy. Eli tied the horse up to a clothesline pole in our yard that my mother hadn’t used for decades. I brought it a large bucket of water.

We went into the kitchen and I poured coffee and set out some cookies. After greeting Fannie and Eli, my mother excused herself to her bedroom.

Fannie seemed to have calmed down a bit. “Dana, I think we may have found that murderer, Van White. I think he might be dead, and it’s probably my fault.”

I stared at my friend in disbelief. “What are you talking about? Where did you find him? What happened?”

A teary eyed Fannie, asked me for some water.

“Yesterday afternoon, I couldn’t find my oldest grandson, Levi. He loves to wander off, and I was busy and didn’t see him leave. I panicked and went off in search of him. I didn’t tell Elizabeth for I feared she’d not trust me to watch him again. There’s an old rock quarry not far from where we live, and my worst nightmare was that Levi had gone back there and fallen into it. When I got there, I didn’t see him. Then I looked down into the quarry and saw a body. It didn’t move at first, then I saw the man move his leg a bit and moan in pain. Then he got very still. That was all, he looked like the man who killed Constance. At that point, I just fled and continued to look for Levi. When I got back to the house, Levi was climbing out of the corncrib. I was so relieved. I thought about going back to the quarry, but then I thought about what he’d done to Constance and to you. I figured he was probably dead anyhow. It must be a fifty foot drop. Not many people realize that the quarry is back there. He might have been coming through there at night or in a hurry and fallen. Fannie closed her eyes. Eli took her hand holding it lovingly.

Fannie cleared her throat. I couldn’t sleep fearing that my leaving him there was a sin, especially if he was still alive. This morning I told everything to Eli. We walked back to the quarry. I think the body had moved a bit, but it was very still. Eli and I yelled, but there was no response from the man. We decided that we’d best talk to you.”

“I’m so glad that you did.” I sighed aloud relieved that Fannie was okay and that Van was not able to pose any more threat to the community. We need to report this to the police. I know a Trooper Pierce who is very understanding. I have an attorney who is a close friend in Florida. I’ll give him a call and see if he thinks we should get you a lawyer.”

Fannie looked alarmed at the suggestion of an attorney. I touched her hand. “Please, I promise, you’re in no trouble. I just want to make sure that we do this correctly. Why don’t you two go on home. I’ll contact Trooper Pierce and let him take it from there.

When I called the barracks and said it was an emergency, I was put through to Trooper Pierce. I gave him a summary of what happened. He said he’d meet us there with paramedics and a rescue squad.

Next I called the attorney in Florida and got his assistant. I briefly explained the situation and gave a number to call.

I raced the Jeep over to Fannie’s and got there before they did. I waited impatiently. The troopers and rescue squad arrived shortly. Elizabeth stepped out of the house and told us how to get to the quarry. She explained that she needed to stay with her students and children. Fannie and Eli arrived as we headed back to the quarry. When we got to the quarry, we were all surprised to see Van White lifting his head groggily. “He did have a gun,” I warned. “Make sure, he doesn’t still have it. Hopefully he lost it when he fell.”

Trooper Pierce shouted down into the quarry. “Van, this is the police. Please raise your hands, and kick the pistol away.”

“I don’t have a pistol,” Van croaked. “I think my legs are broken. I can’t stand up.”

The rescue squad quickly reached the bottom of the quarry. It took a helicopter operation to actually get Van out. Van was raised up out of the quarry, read his rights by Trooper Pierce and taken to the nearest hospital in Punxsutawney. Van had several broken ribs and two broken legs and a concussion. He said that he’d broken into someone’s camp a couple of miles from there and found food and a case of beer. He was stumbling through the woods at night when he plunged into the quarry. He, like most other people, didn’t realize that there was a quarry in the area. I, for one, am convinced that our Lord does work in mysterious ways!

Trooper Pierce assured Fannie that since Van survived, there would be no charges filed against her for delaying her reporting of what she had seen. He expressed his gratitude and assured her that without her help, Van would have likely died in the quarry. He smiled at me and said that the evidence we’d found the day before wasn’t likely Van’s since we had been several miles away.

When everyone had gone, Fannie and I took a walk across the backyard, the site of the playground when we were in school there. I noticed that all the kids from school play softball now. “I remember that when we were in school together, you guys just stood on the sidelines never joining in the games.”

“We were never sure how welcome we were. That was the first time that we’d been with the English. I imagine we were scared.”

I nodded. “ I think we’re all afraid of anyone or anything different. It has been some week,” “Nothing can bring Constance back, but at least we know that her murderer will be brought to justice. I feel good that we both were able to help with that.”

Fannie nodded. “I’m still trying to find it in my heart to forgive him. I’m not there yet, but with prayer, I’ll get there.”

“I’m sure you will. I need to work on that too. You know Fannie, I was thinking. We should organize a reunion of all the folks who went to school here back when we did. Wouldn’t it be fun to see what everybody is doing and looks like? We could have a picnic, maybe next summer. I’ll work on locating everyone. Maybe you could help me plan it and send out the invitations. Everyone could bring a covered dish. We need something fun to look forward to this year.”

“I’ll talk it over with Eli. Something tells me he’d enjoy it too.”

I left for home anxious to tell my mother and Helen that the manhunt was over. They were disappointed that our “leads” didn’t work out, but pleased to hear that the surrender was peaceful. After Helen left, Mom gave me a big hug. “You never cease to amaze me, Dana. Do you have any idea how proud I am of you? Both I and Solitude are so lucky to have you here.”

“Oh go on! I’m so glad to hear that, Mom. I know my path hasn’t been exactly the traditional one. But I love my life and trying to set things right.”

“Don’t you think it’s time to set things right with your daughter,” she replied. “I’d really like to know something about my granddaughter before I kick off.”

“You had better not kick off for a long time. We’ve got more wrongs to right. And yes, it’s time. She wants to talk to me, and I finally feel ready to face those old ghosts.”

Chapter 18

Epilogue

One Year Later

Van remained in the hospital for two weeks and then went to a rehab clinic. Eventually he was sent to jail. His cousin Violet, good Christian woman that she was, continued to visit him. She said he was very remorseful and was glad it was over. He pleaded guilty for Constance’s murder and was sentenced to twenty-five years in prison with no possibility of parole. The other culprits who had committed the threats and random violence were also brought to justice. They were three unemployed high school dropouts. I didn’t know them, but no one in the community seemed surprised when they found out who they were. One of them was the brother of Sandy Ross. Each of them received five year prison sentences.

Sharon and her husband were working at saving their marriage. They still own the Cheese Shop and winery, but are planning more “quality” time together. They’ve taken two trips, a Caribbean cruise and a trip to Hawaii to rekindle some old flames.

Fannie and I have maintained our friendship. I stop by at least once a month and we enjoy each other’s company. Since Van confessed, a lot of the details of who reported what about whom did not have to come out. Fannie, Elizabeth, and Sharon were grateful for that. The Consolidated School reunion was a large success. It was held in July at the park where we’d got Van to confess. Fannie and I still laugh about how some our classmates had changed. We were pleased that it brought together former class members from all walks of life. Ralph showed up. So did Sharon and Lynn. Several people brought their spouses. Several were single, divorced or widowed and I suspect some of the renewed friendships would continue beyond our party. My only regret was that Mrs. Hoover wasn’t there with us at the reunion. I learned that she’d passed away five years ago. She’d managed to inspire all her students in one way or another.

A new school was completed and a new teacher was found in the Amish community. A new health care clinic was opened two days a week in an abandoned store in Solitude. It was largely the result of all the funds that funneled in following Constance’s death. The clinic specializes in maladies that are especially germane to the Amish population. They are able to screen children early for some of the genetic diseases and greatly improve survival rates and quality of life. The clinic was named in loving memory of Constance.

My mother’s health declined a bit over the year, but she did not have any more strokes and was still quite capable of staying in her home. We give each other plenty of space and truly enjoy each other’s company. I recently agreed to teach a history course one day a week at my alma mater on Colonial Pennsylvania. I’m determined to make life from over two hundred years ago relevant to teens and young adults. History does repeat itself and those who don’t now that are destined to repeat our past mistakes. I was just as determined to make it fun.

Helen and I also joined the task force to work to enhance ethnic and religious tolerance in our community. Helen does know everyone and is really a mover and shaker when it comes to change. I found out that Trooper Pierce was single and available. We’ve gone out on a couple dates and had a great time. He still doesn’t completely approve of my amateur sleuthing, but something tells me that he’ll come around. He’s only five years younger than me. So why not?

And I did make peace with a part of my life that I’d tried to block out for a long time. After Jake’s death in 1972, I took a leave from teaching and went to graduate school full time, living in Pittsburgh. It was a very sad and lonely time for me. I had a brief affair with a visiting professor from Argentina. He was twice my age, but kind, handsome like a Ricardo Montebalm, and brilliant. I never asked, but figured he was probably married.

By the time he’d returned to Buenos Aires, I learned that I was pregnant. I had always been pro choice, and at twenty three, my choice was to have the baby and put it up for adoption. I was in no emotional state to raise a child on my own, and the selfish part of me wanted to complete my doctorate and achieve a successful career. I figured there would be plenty of time for children later. I was able to keep everything a secret (I feigned an overseas fellowship) until the beautiful healthy little girl was born and placed with a loving family in the Pittsburgh suburbs. I eventually did explain my evasiveness to my parents. As usual they gave me their unconditional, loving support, but I could never shake the guilt that I’d cheated them out of knowing their granddaughter. Few days passed that I didn’t question my choice, especially as the years went by and the timing, circumstances and my lifestyle just never seemed quite right to marry or be a single parent.

Then in those few weeks after I’d moved back home, the daughter I gave up somehow tracked me down and was trying to get in touch. She and her parents had spoken to my mother, but I’d managed to evade them. She was certainly persistent. She wanted to talk to me and know something about her history, both personal and genetic. I’d visualized meeting her hundreds of times over the years, but once it was a real possibility, I was terrified. It wasn’t like I was some scared kid when I chose to give her up. I knew that I could have kept her and, with my family’s ongoing support, done just fine by her. I’m sure she realized that, too, and likely had a lot of questions she’d like to confront me with. She was sixteen, the same age that Constance Slaughbach was when she met with her horrific death. I realized that I owed it to her and to myself to at least talk to her on the telephone.

One Saturday morning last October, I got the nerve to return her calls. She was at soccer practice and I spoke with her mother. Her mother told me that she was a wonderful child with what was probably an overactive curiosity. They had named her Loren. Her parents were both teachers, and she was their only child. Both her parents had agreed to help her locate me and gave her their blessing in contacting my family. Her mother said that Loren didn’t seem to really want anything from me, just an opportunity to better know who I was and ask me a few questions. She said that she would certainly understand if I didn’t want to get involved. I doubted that Loren’s mother realized how many times Loren had phoned my mother’s house.

The events of the previous September had a great impact on me. Seeing Fannie’s commitment to family continued to influence me. Even though Fannie would have never been in my situation, I had no doubt what choice she would make regarding Loren. Life really is too short to not be there for people.

I told Loren’s mother, Kay, that I’d be glad to speak with Loren. We agreed that I’d call back that afternoon. When we finally spoke, her voice was surprisingly similar to my own. I didn’t sense any bitterness or anger, but she wasn’t one bit shy.

“Once I learned that I was adopted, I started picturing what my birth mother and sperm donor father were like. It got under my skin, and I started bothering my folks about it. They’re the best parents. I’m not looking for any substitutes. I just need to know some things. Do you understand that?”

“Yes, of course I do. I’ve spent a good part of my life seeking answers too. Just what do you need to know, Loren?” I noticed that I was really having trouble breathing. I’d seldom experienced such anxiety.

“Well, who are you, Dana Blades? And who fathered me? What do you guys look like? Do you have other kids? What’s your health like? What do you do? Why did you choose to give me up for adoption?”

“A thirty-nine year old retired professor and detective wanna be, Carlos, gorgeous, just a dog, strong as an ox, think about you, love.” I responded.

“What? She gasped. “Are you trying to flip me off?”

“No honestly! I was just answering all your questions as quickly as I could. This is just way too difficult to do over the telephone. How about I write you a long letter, explaining everything as best I can. After that, you can decide if you’d like to meet.”

“That sounds fair. Thanks so much for finally talking to me. I was beginning to think you’d never return my calls.”

“I want to apologize for that. I’m sometimes a bit of a jerk.”

I spent a lot of time writing her a detailed biography complete with pictures and stories about my family. I explained that I knew very little about her father and that he really didn’t know she existed. I hope she didn’t think I was a total tramp. I realized that at sixteen her ability to empathize would be limited. It wasn’t like I was applying for a job as her parent. It just really did matter to me that she didn’t see me as the birth mother from hell.

I sent the letter off and looked forward to hearing from Loren. I imagined that many of the answers that I’d provided weren’t exactly what she’d hoped for. She called me in a week and thanked me for the information. I couldn’t read how she felt about the information I’d sent by the tone of her voice. She was fairly pleasant and upbeat. Her only irritation seemed to be about her birth father.

“Don’t you think he deserved to know about me? I think you were pretty unfair to him and to me. I know nothing about his history. I read that the people of Argentina are as multicultural as we are. Was he Indian, Italian, German or what? He might have been the son of an escaped Nazi. My family is Jewish. How am I supposed to feel about that? And what if he carried some genetic disease. Shouldn’t I know about that before I get married and have kids?”

I was pleased that she used the word “multicultural,” surprised that she was Jewish, happy that she had some sense of history and not really disappointed that she chided me. I had kicked myself many times over the years for how I’d handled the affair. I simply didn’t love Carlos and really didn’t want him in my life, but I didn’t want to tell him or Loren my feelings about this.

“It sounds like we have more things to discuss,” I responded. “Do you think you could send me something about yourself and maybe some pictures?”

“I guess I could. Now that my initial curiosity is over, I’m better able to focus on school and my life. Don’t take this wrong, but I’m not really looking for a friend.”

“I understand completely, Loren. I really appreciate your honesty.”

I did receive a letter from her with some pictures and information about her life. I sent her a Hanukah card. Then late last week, she called and asked if we could meet. She said that she had her driver’s license, but that her parents would come along if I agreed to a meeting. Of course I agreed. Mom is very excited. I also told Phil and his family the whole story, and he agreed to bring everyone by if I called and gave him an O.K.

I told Fannie the story about my daughter and how I planned to meet her soon. She gave me a broad smile.

“ I hope that your meeting is the beginning of a good friendship, Dana. Just look how our unlikely friendship has grown over the years. Life really is an interesting journey, isn’t it, even here in Solitude.”

I nodded. “We just have to remember to keep ourselves open to all the possibilities and make the best choices possible no matter where we are.”

Book Jacket

Summary

The peaceful western Pennsylvania Amish community of Solitude is best known for quaint shopping and dining experiences, not crime. But lately, Amish barns are being burned down. Amish leaders are receiving anonymous threats. A few buggies have been driven off the road at night resulting in injuries. The situation deteriorates even more when an Amish schoolteacher is found stabbed to death in her classroom. Local police efforts have met with no success, leading Dana Blades, a Florida history professor home to care for her mother, to sleuth around with help from some of her childhood Amish friends. Many think big developers trying to obtain farmlands to build a resort in the area are behind the trouble. Others believe local militia and hate groups are responsible. Still others fear that the problem lies within the Amish community. Many fear that even worse dark and sinister forces are at work in this bucolic community. Dana, who has her own secrets and share of painful losses, takes the reader through many exciting twists and turns that lead to a surprising conclusion that leaves Solitude reeling.

Author

Saundra McKee is a retired teacher and college professor. She has published numerous articles and teacher’s materials on teaching social studies. She resides in western Pennsylvania with her best friend, Lynn, a Jack Russell named Nellie and a Serbian street dog named Maisey. She has also completed an historical murder mystery for children that’s set in the coal mining region of western Pennsylvania.