Amish Cover-Up Read online

  Amish Cover-Up

  Ettie Smith Amish Mysteries Book 13

  Samantha Price

  Amish Suspense

  Copyright © 2017 by Samantha Price

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Any names or characters, businesses or places, events or incidents, are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  ETTIE SMITH AMISH MYSTERIES

  Also by Samantha Price:

  About Samantha Price

  Chapter 1

  It was midmorning when Florence arrived at Lousy Levi’s cottage on the edge of his apple orchard. As she raised her hand to knock on his front door, a waft of chilly air swept across the porch and made her neck hairs stand on end. It had been warm earlier that morning and the draft had come out of nowhere, bringing with it a sense of uneasiness. Her hand remained aloft as she gave one final look at the trees in the orchard to one side, and then the contented animals grazing in the fields to the other.

  Her visits to Lousy Levi were a duty, not a pleasure. Reminding herself that her late husband would appreciate her taking the time to visit his old friend, she knocked on the door before she changed her mind.

  Seconds later, the door was flung open and a disheveled looking Levi stood before her, still fastening one side of his suspenders to the top of his baggy black pants. They had surely seen better days, both he and the pants. Florence didn’t know where to look as he finished dressing. Her gaze fell to the ground and then back up into the icy blue of his eyes. His gray hair stood out from his head and the longer, darker strands at the bottom had formed into ringlets.

  “Good to see you, Florence. You haven’t been here for ages.”

  “I was here a few weeks ago.”

  “Seems long ago. Anyway, come in. I’ll put a pot of hot tea on for us.” He stepped aside and put a hand softly on her arm to guide her in, causing him to stoop over awkwardly.

  “Are you sure I haven’t called at an inconvenient time? I could come back later if you’re in the middle of something.”

  “Nonsense. I look forward to our talks. No one visits me much anymore.”

  Florence smiled, knowing why people didn’t stop by. He was polite to her, but he wasn’t that way with most people. His meanness and poor business dealings had earned him the not-so-nice nickname of Lousy Levi.

  After she’d followed him into the kitchen, she sat and waited for him to fill the kettle. He fiddled around with it, tipping some out, and then topping it up again. “It’s only just boiled, so it won’t take but a moment.” When he was satisfied it was at the perfect level, he placed it on the stove and then sat across the table from her.

  “I’m glad you came today, because there’s something important that you need to know.”

  “What’s that?” Florence asked.

  “They’re going to kill me, Florrie.”

  “I keep telling you, Levi, I don’t like any shortened versions of my name. Not Florrie, not Flo … Wait a minute. What did you say?” She shook her head, sure she hadn’t heard right. “Did you just say some people are going to kill you?”

  “That’s right. I’m telling you, so you’ll know that if I die and it looks like an accident, it won’t have been.”

  “Who’s going to kill you?”

  The kettle whistled. “Just a moment.” He made the tea, let it steep, placed a cup of hot tea in front of her, and then sat back down with a fresh cup for himself.

  Florence took a sip. “Who’s going to kill you?” Maybe an unpaid worker had threatened him, she thought.

  “I’ll tell you one person who wants me six-foot-under and that’s the old goat next door. He’s blaming me because he lost his organic accreditation.”

  “For his apples?” Florence knew the neighboring property also had apple orchards.

  “Jah.”

  “How did that come about?”

  “I use spray and fertilizers and for the last two seasons his fruit didn’t test as organic and he said it’s my fault. I dunno how these things work. Spray might have gone through the air or the fertilizer seeped through to his land. He’s blaming me.” He stared at Florence. “Anyway, it’s not my problem.”

  “I can understand why he’s upset.”

  “What has he said about me? Has he said anything to you?”

  “Nothing. This is the first I’ve heard of it. I don’t even know the man next door.” Florence knew the Englischer neighbor by sight, but that was only from seeing him on his property when she’d been visiting Levi.

  “How do you know he’s upset?”

  Florence sighed. “You said someone wants to kill you. He’s blaming you, you said, so I figured he’d have to be upset.”

  “Jah, true that.”

  “Is he that troubled about the whole thing that he’d kill you? It sounds extreme.”

  “There’s more. He wants my land, he does. It’d suit him if I was out of the way. When I go to Gott, John will sell out to him. He’s got no interest in the orchard. He’s a disappointment—not much of a son. Took after his mudder, he did.”

  “Weren’t you wanting to sell it too, some years back?”

  “Nee, I never wanted to sell.”

  “You did. I remember you were thinking of selling to Tony Troyer.”

  He shook his head. “You got it all wrong, Florrie.”

  “Florence!” she corrected him.

  “We had plans of going into partnership, but that never worked out.”

  “Oh.” Florence sipped on her tea. It was too far back for her to remember the exact details.

  “Just remember, if I die and it looks like an accident, it won’t be.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” Florence stared into her tea while thinking about what she needed at the markets. That was her next stop.

  “Why shouldn’t I use fertilizers and chemicals if I want? They make the apples look better and taste better.”

  Slowly nodding, Florence said, “I guess they’re your apples.”

  “That’s right. They’re my apples and I can do what I want.”

  “You could try being nice to people though, Levi. You do get off on the wrong foot with people.”

  He opened his pale blue eyes wide and the fine, web-like veins on the tops of his cheeks got redder. “I’ll be nice to people when they’re nice to me, and not a moment before.”

  Florence was taken aback and a little amused at the same time. “I’m just saying that if you think someone’s trying to kill you, it could be a good time to rethink how you come across to people.”

  “You’re not listening to me. It’s all about the money. It’s not about me and what I’m like. Anyway, I think most people do like me.”

  Florence stared into her tea, wondering what to say. She didn’t find any answers in the cup. No one she knew liked him. They merely suffered him out of a sense of d
uty because he was a member of their Amish community. He not only treated people in the community roughly, he was unfair to the seasonal workers who came to the orchard, most of whom were Englischers.

  “How about we have some cookies?” he asked.

  Florence looked up. “Jah, cookies.” He had never offered food when she stopped by. This was a first.

  “Wait there. I’ll just get ’em.” He reached into a cupboard and pulled out a package. When he had placed it on the table, he unwrapped it. “I got this thing earlier today. There are cookies in here.” He attempted to open the lid of a nice red cookie box.

  “Oh, you didn’t bake them?”

  He threw his head back and laughed. “I don’t bake.”

  “How did you get the them? They don’t look like store-bought cookies.”

  At that moment, he finally got the lid off and offered her one. “It was easier to open this morning.”

  She peeked inside to see chocolate covered and chocolate chip cookies. “They look delightful.”

  “And you’re trying to say people don’t like me. The cookies landed on my doorstep. I must have a secret admirer.”

  The chocolate covered one she’d just selected slipped from her fingertips and landed back in the box. “You think someone’s trying to kill you and yet you don’t mind eating mysterious cookies left at your door?”

  “You just said no one likes me, but someone does and these cookies prove it.”

  That didn’t answer her question, and she didn’t say that exactly, but she had no energy to inquire further. “I don’t think you should eat them if you think someone’s out to kill you. You don’t even know who left them, do you?”

  “I daresay I’ll find out soon enough, maybe when I go to the meeting on this Sunday. The cookies might have been left by one of you widows.” He gave her a wink, which made her cringe.

  “I doubt it.” She couldn’t stop the words that tumbled out of her mouth.

  He wasn’t offended and held the box out to her once again. “Aren’t you going to have a cookie?”

  “Nee. I’m suddenly not that hungry.”

  “Suit yourself.” He took a cookie and bit into it. “These are delicious as usual.” Crumbs tumbled out of his mouth.

  Florence turned away to avoid seeing the cookie fragments that had made their way into the tangles of his beard. It was a ghastly sight.

  “Are you sure you don’t want one?”

  “I’m fine. I’m meeting some friends for lunch at the markets.” That was a slight exaggeration. Yes, she was having lunch at the markets, and the ‘friends’ were the regular workers at the café. She never went to Levi’s house without having another place to go on to. Otherwise, he’d have her stay longer.

  “Have one, go on.” He pushed the cookie box toward her yet again.

  “Nee denke.”

  “Are you worried it will ruin your appetite for your luncheon?”

  “Something like that,” Florence said. Now she knew there was no truth to his worries about someone trying to kill him, otherwise, he wouldn’t be eating the cookies. They did look good, and she was hungry. Just when she was weakening, he put the lid back on, stood, and put them back in his cupboard.

  Now Florence was even hungrier. That toasted cheese sandwich and caramel latte would taste extra good when she finally reached the café. She’d done her duty by visiting Lousy Levi. Her late husband would have appreciated it.

  “Denke for entertaining me today, Levi. I’ll leave you to your work and denke for the tea.”

  “Are you going so soon?”

  “Jah, I’ve got that lunch appointment, remember?”

  “I know. Don’t leave it so long to visit me again.”

  “That’s if you’re still here.” Florence laughed.

  “That’s right. If I’m still here. If I’m not, you know what to do. You’ll tell the cops it wasn’t an accident, won’t you? I don’t want whoever killed me to get away with it. It’ll either be the goat next door, the nurse who has been looking after my bad leg, my good-for-nothing son trying to get his hands on the orchard, or Tony Troyer. Mark my words, it’ll be one of those four. They all want me dead.”

  “I doubt they do. Anyway, let’s not talk about things like that. I’d rather leave on a happy note.”

  Levi chuckled, and together they walked out to Florence’s buggy. “It’s a quiet time of year for me, Florence, so stop by anytime.”

  “I’ll do that. Goodbye, Levi.” She climbed into her buggy and took hold of the reins. Just as she was about to click the horse onward, Levi coughed hard and then clutched at his throat. Swinging around, she asked, “Are you okay, Levi?”

  He nodded and said with a gravelly voice, “Just something caught in my throat.” He cleared his throat again and then gagged.

  She waited for a moment. “Better?”

  “You go on, I’m fine. I’ll just get a glass of water.”

  She clicked the horse onward and just as she was halfway down his driveway, she stopped the buggy and looked back. She had to make sure he was okay, so she turned the buggy around.

  Florence got out of the buggy and stood at the back door, which was the door closest to the kitchen. “Levi!” Strangely, there was no answer. Thinking he could be in the living room, she opened the door and walked into the house. “Levi?” She jumped with fright. He was lying face down in the hallway. Screaming, she ran to him and turned him over. Tapping him on the face, she called out his name. He was alive, but not responding.

  He groaned. His mouth opened and she was certain he was trying to speak. Then his eyes rolled back in his head and his body went limp. Florence jumped up and ran to the phone in his outside office area. Her hands shook, but she managed to steady them enough to dial 911. After she told the operator what had happened, she gave him the address and ended the call despite the operator still talking. She had to get back to Levi.

  Staring at his lifeless body, all she felt was helplessness and despair. He was gone and there was no way to bring him back. Why hadn’t she listened to him more? Perhaps she could’ve found the time to visit more often, especially since he had no one else.

  Wiping away a tear as she leaned over his body, she wondered who would miss him. His wife had died many years ago and they’d only had the one son, and he was estranged and living outside of the community.

  Oh, Levi, I’ve been a bad friend. I should’ve visited you more often, cooked you the occasional meal, and been more of a friend.

  She leaned over and put her head against his chest, hoping to hear any sign of life. There was nothing. She placed two fingers to his neck to feel for a pulse, but there was none.

  Chapter 2

  It was several minutes after Florence had called emergency services before the paramedics arrived. She hurried out the door to lead them to where Levi was, hoping her instincts were wrong and they could revive him.

  Two of the paramedics tried to bring him back while a third took her outside and sat her down on a porch chair. She described to him what had happened and Levi’s gagging action and the way he’d coughed.

  “One minute he was here and the next minute he was gone.” It all seemed unbelievable. When she saw a police car heading toward the house, it jogged her memory of him saying he’d be killed. “Someone murdered him.” She hurried to the police officers despite the paramedic suggesting she should stay put. “He’s been murdered,” she blurted out to the policeman who’d just stepped out of the passenger side of the car.

  “Did you place the call?” the officer asked.

  “Yes.”

  “We have the deceased’s name as Levi Hochstetler.”

  “Well, he’s not dead yet. There’s still hope. They’re working on him now. That’s his name, though.”

  “And your name?”

  “Florence Lapp.”

  “I’m Officer Burns and this is Officer Skully. What is your relationship to Mr. Hochstetler?”

  “A friend. I stop by from time to
time to see him. He was fine and then ... he just died. He told me it would happen. He told me if he died it wouldn’t be an accident, even if it looked like one. He told me there were people who wanted him dead.”

  The officers looked at one another. Then one pulled out a notepad and pen. She gave her address, and answered a few other questions that seemed totally irrelevant. “He’s been murdered,” she told them again.

  Officer Burns frowned. “What makes you say that?”

  “I was here with him for several minutes this morning and he told me that if he died under suspicious circumstances that meant he was killed. He was most insistent that I tell the police it wasn’t an accident.”

  “But weren’t you with him when he died?” The officers exchanged glances again as though she were crazy.

  “Not exactly. I was saying goodbye to him and it was as though he was choking, and then as I started down the driveway he said he needed to get a glass of water. Something made me turn around and check on him. I know! It was the cookies! The cookies were poisoned.” Florence clutched at her throat. “I very nearly ate one. Please find out if they’ve been able to revive him.”

  Skully stayed with her while Officer Burns went into the house. A few minutes later, he came out and when he locked eyes with Florence, he shook his head.

  “Could you come down to the station and make a full statement?”

  “That would be a good idea.”

  Officer Skully looked at the buggy. “Is that yours?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “Do you have anyone you’d like to come to the station with you?”

  “A husband, perhaps?” Burns asked.

  “My husband is dead.” She glanced over her shoulder back to Levi’s cottage. “What’s going to happen to Levi now?”