Murder in the Amish Bakery (Ettie Smith Amish Mysteries Book 3) Read online

“Anyway you cook them will be fine with me.”

  Just as Ruth had dished out poached eggs onto two plates, someone knocked on the door. Ruth peeped through the window. “It’s that detective friend of yours.”

  “I didn’t think they’d be finished with the place already.”

  Ruth hurried to let the detective through the door. “Good morning again. Come through to the kitchen.”

  The detective sat at the kitchen table.

  “Would you like some breakfast?” Ruth asked.

  “I’m fine thank you. I’ll have something at the station later.”

  “Like what?” Ettie asked. “Pink iced doughnuts? It would be better if you had something decent in your stomach, Detective.”

  He smiled. “My dietary habits have improved since you saw me eat those doughnuts.” He looked at Ruth. “I would appreciate a little something.”

  Ettie poured the detective a cup of coffee from the pot on the table, and then pushed it toward him. “Did you find out what he was doing in Ruth’s office?”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Smith. No, we didn’t find that out.” He took a mouthful of coffee.

  Ruth handed him a plate of eggs and toast.

  “Is this your famous bread?”

  Ruth smiled as she sat back down at the table. “Yes, it is.”

  “You’ve heard about Ruth’s bread?” Ettie asked.

  “I heard the evidence technicians talking about it today. They said it’s the best bread around.”

  “Yes that’s what everyone says about it. My bread’s the best.” Ruth gave a nod.

  Ettie looked at her friend and smiled. She displayed no pride when she admitted her bread was the best, it was simply said as a fact. Ettie looked back at the detective. “I was having problems with my bread and that’s why I was there this morning, talking to Ruth about it.”

  He put a forkful of food in his mouth and nodded. “Yes, you told me that. He was Alan Avery, we found the ID in his wallet.”

  “That’s right; he was a good customer of mine up until recently.”

  “What happened?” the detective asked.

  “He and his daughter run a café, well a sandwich bar I suppose you’d call it, and anyway, he had a permanent order of bread with me. He said my bread is what kept his customers coming back. Alan wanted to buy me out, and kept offering me more and more money. I kept saying ‘no’ and told him that I wasn’t selling. Then, one day, I found out that he was opening a bakery right near me, just a short distance away on the same road.”

  Detective Kelly nodded. “He’s got every right to do so; it is a free country.”

  “Be that as it may, as soon as I found that out, I cancelled his order and said to him, ‘you can make your own bread.’”

  “And how long ago was that?”

  “I’d have to see when we stopped supplying him. I could have a look at my records, which are in the office that I can’t go into. I would guess it was about three or four weeks now. Yes, I think that’s right. Four weeks at the most.”

  The detective pulled out his notepad and wrote something down. He suddenly looked up. “Was your spare key here?”

  “Yes it was. I knew it would be. No one’s been in my house.”

  “Try the toast detective,” Ettie said.

  Ruth said, “It’s not today’s bread. It was made yesterday, but it’s still good for toast.”

  The detective picked up the toast and bit into it. After he ate the mouthful, he said, “This is good toast. The nicest I’ve tasted in fact.”

  “Why haven’t you bought bread from Ruth’s place before?” Ettie asked.

  “I would have if it was closer to the station. So Allen Avery runs a local sandwich establishment?”

  “That’s right, only about two blocks from my bakery. He works with his daughter and I heard that he was intending to put his daughter in charge of the new bakery.”

  “Would you happen to know his daughter’s name?”

  “Melissa.”

  “Do you know Melissa very well?”

  “Just about as well as I know my other regular customers.”

  “Seems the man was killed between midnight and one o’clock this morning. Where were you, Mrs. Fuller, at that time?”

  “I was asleep in my bed. Right here in the house.”

  Kelly looked around. “And you live on your own?”

  “I do. I’ve never married.”

  “So, you’re Miss Fuller?”

  “I am, but I allow people to call me Mrs. Fuller seeing most women my age have been, or are, married.”

  Detective Kelly turned to Ettie. “And you, Mrs. Smith?”

  “I was married, but Mr. Smith died.”

  Kelly took a deep breath. “I meant, where were you between midnight and one?”

  “Let me see, around midnight and one? I was asleep, of course. Elsa-May can tell you that.”

  “Neither of you are under suspicion. I just need to know where you were.”

  “So that means we are under suspicion, otherwise you wouldn’t have asked us where we were.”

  Kelly frowned. “The man had a knife driven into his back. I think the force required for that suggests a man did the stabbing. I’ll have to wait until the forensic report comes back.”

  “Fortunate for us,” Ettie said.

  “That’s why I need you to come in to have your fingerprints taken.”

  Ettie still didn’t trust Detective Kelly, not like she’d trusted Detective Crowley. Kelly had put one over on her before, and she was not going to fall for his lies again.

  Kelly cleared his throat and looked across the table at Ruth. “Would you happen to know if Alan Avery had any enemies, Miss Fuller?”

  Ruth shook her head. “You can call me Ruth. I wouldn’t know at all if he had enemies. I didn’t know him that well. I didn’t see him every day. Sometimes he’d pick up the bread, or it was his daughter, and sometimes one of his workers would pick up the order.”

  Kelly said, “Well, I better get back to the station. By now Alan Avery’s family will know what’s happened to him.”

  “His wife died years ago. He’s only got his daughter,” Ruth said.

  “Oh, I see.”

  Ettie asked, “Don’t you feel better with something in your stomach, Detective?”

  “Yes, I do. Thank you, Ruth, for making me such a lovely breakfast. And I feel honored to have finally tasted your bread. And I’ll buy my bread from you in the future.”

  “It was a pleasure, Detective. Do you have the key to give back to me?”

  “They’re still working there. Someone will bring it to you. If you’re not here they’ll bring the key to me, and I’ll personally bring it to you later today. It could possibly be this evening before they’re through.”

  “What about my Bible? I need it back.”

  “I’ll let you know when we’re through with it. We might have to keep it as evidence at least until we find the person who killed Avery. After you ladies have had your prints taken, I’ll have some more questions for you.”

  Chapter 4.

  After the detective left Ruth’s house, she turned to Ettie. “What did he mean, Ettie? What evidence could my Bible be?”

  “I guess it could have a fingerprint on it, or something like that.”

  “I wonder what Alan Avery was doing in the bakery. Do you have any idea at all, Ruth?”

  “I told the detective that the man was there to steal my bread recipe. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

  “Where do you keep the recipe?”

  “Out of sight.”

  Ettie nodded and didn’t want to press her further. “Did you check to see if it was still there?”

  “Jah it was.”

  “Did he come close to it?”

  Ruth gasped and covered her mouth. “Ettie, I’ve just thought of something. Last time Alan Avery came into my office to pay his bill, he admired my old bureau and I told him it held my most prized possession. I meant my Bible
, but he would’ve thought I meant my bread recipe.”

  “And you said that to Alan Avery recently?”

  Ruth nodded. “I remember I did and it could’ve been that last time he was in my office before I heard he was opening a bakery.”

  “And he thought that’s where you hid your bread recipe, and that’s why he was holding your Bible? We know there were two people there. When the second person found out there was no bread recipe, he must have killed Alan Avery.”

  “Ettie, we must tell your detective.”

  ‘We must, but he’s not my detective. I’ll go look at the time.” Ettie walked to look at the clock over the fireplace and then went back into the kitchen. “It’s not even nine yet. We’ve some time to fill in before we go to the police station.” Ettie sat down at the kitchen table with Ruth.

  “Do you have any idea who that second man could be? Who else has shown interest in your bread recipe?”

  “There have been a few people who have wanted to buy it.”

  “Tell me their names.”

  “There’s a man called Hugh Dwyer; he runs a small goods store with an Amish café attached. He’s just started franchising it. He’s offered to buy me out, even sent me over a contract for me to write my own price on.”

  “And you were never tempted?”

  “He had a ‘no compete clause,’ which means I’d never be able to make my bread anymore, not even for myself.”

  “That seems harsh, but I suppose he thought it reasonable to ask since he was willing to pay a large sum.”

  “I’m not ready to retire. My whole life has been wrapped up in this place for so many years.”

  “So this man, Hugh, wanted to buy your bread recipe, offered you a lot of money, and you’d have to close your bakery?”

  “That’s right. I’d have to sell it to someone else without my recipe.”

  “Who else wanted your recipe?”

  “Rupert Bird. He has a bakery in Harrisburg.”

  “Amish bakery?”

  “Jah. I’ve been there. He invited me to go and see it. Of course, he was all friendly at the time and made out it would be to my benefit if I saw his successful operation. When I got there, it wasn’t as big as he’d said.”

  “Go on,” Ettie said.

  “He asked me again to sell, and again, I said ‘no’ and his face went as red as a beetroot and even the tops of his ears went red. He said I’d be very sorry if I didn’t sell to him. I got out of there quick and came back home.”

  “Were you scared?”

  “Nee, not really. I didn’t take him too seriously. They were just words spoken in anger and frustration.”

  “Did he offer you as much money as Alan Avery?”

  “Nee. Alan Avery offered the most money, a ridiculous amount of money. I don’t know if that other man, Mr. Dwyer, was serious about me writing my own price on the contract.”

  Ettie fiddled with the strings of her prayer kapp. “So it sounds like Alan Avery really wanted your bread recipe and he was prepared to engage in criminal activity to get it.”

  “I can’t think of why else he’d be in the bakery. Nothing else makes sense.”

  “Particularly since he had hold of your Bible. He would have gone to your bureau expecting to find your bread recipe or your bread starters and he pulled out your Bible.” Ettie stared at Ruth. “Some don’t use a bread starter anymore. Do you use a bread starter?”

  Ruth shook her head. “I can’t tell you what I do, Ettie.”

  “Just curious. You’ll have to let Detective Kelly know all that you told me when we go in. Was there anyone else who wanted your recipe?”

  “No one else with a serious offer. I get asked for the recipe and for my secrets all the time; most of the people are customers who buy three to four loaves of bread a week.”

  * * *

  Two hours later, Ettie and Ruth were sitting in the police station waiting to have their fingerprints taken.

  Ettie groaned.

  “What, Ettie?”

  “I’m just thinking about Elsa-May at home. She’s got no idea I’m sitting in a police station about to have my fingerprints taken. Neither has she got any idea what’s happened in your bakery this morning.”

  “You’ll have a lot to tell her when you get home. Do you think she’ll be worried about you?”

  “Nee. I told her that after I saw you, I was going to drop by Ava Glick’s, so she won’t be expecting me back until later this afternoon.”

  “You ladies here to be fingerprinted?” a gruff voice said.

  They looked up at the officer.

  “Yes,” Ettie said.

  “One at a time, please.”

  Ettie went first and followed the man into a room.

  “Wash your hands thoroughly please.” He pointed to a sink with antibacterial soap in a pump bottle.

  After Ettie washed her hands, the officer handed her two paper towels. She dried her hands thoroughly and threw the paper towels in the bin.

  The officer took hold of Ettie’s hand while saying, “I’m going to roll your thumb from side to side, so just relax as best you can.” He told Ettie how to spread her hand, and then he took a rolled impression of each thumb and finger, after inking each one. “All done. Now you can wash the ink off.”

  Ettie looked down at the ink on her hands. “I hope it comes off.”

  “Most of it will. When you go out, can you send your friend in?”

  Ettie scrubbed her hands, and then it was Ruth’s turn.

  After they’d both had their prints taken, they made their way back to the front of the station to wait for detective Kelly. It wasn’t long before the detective stuck his head into the waiting area, and beckoned for them to follow him.

  When they were all seated, Ettie began, “Has Alan Avery’s daughter been told about his death?”

  “Yes. His daughter has been informed, and you were right, Ruth, his wife died some years ago.”

  “We’ve figured out why he was in there,” Ettie said.

  The detective frowned. “Who was where?”

  “Alan Avery; why he was in Ruth’s office.”

  The detective pushed himself back in his chair. “Why was he there?”

  “The man had offered Ruth an extremely large sum of money to buy her bread recipe. Apparently other people wanted it too.”

  “I can believe it. Bread’s big business.”

  Ettie continued, “Ruth has an antique bureau in her office and she had often told people, when they admired it, that it held her most prized possession. Which, of course, was her Bible. What if someone thought that bureau held her bread starters or bread recipes?”

  “I don’t know if I told everyone that, but I do remember telling Alan Avery that not too long ago.”

  “Let’s wind back a little. You’re losing me. What’s a bread starter? Is that like an entrée?”

  Ettie raised her eyebrows when she looked at Ruth figuring she’d be the one to best explain what a bread starter was.

  “A bread starter is a leavening agent,” Ruth said.

  “Like yeast?” Kelly asked.

  “Yes exactly. And some bread starters are passed down from one generation to the next. The old starters are the best because they often will contain wild yeast that has a distinctly different flavor than today’s harvested yeast.”

  “Can starters be used in all the different varieties of bread?” Kelly asked.

  “The starters are mostly used in Amish friendship bread and sourdough.”

  Ettie wondered if that was Ruth’s secret; maybe she had particularly wonderful bread starters.

  “So you see, there was something tangible to steal. I should say they thought that there was something there in that bureau to steal,” Ettie said.

  Ettie and Ruth went on to tell Detective Kelly about Hugh Dwyer, the man with the Amish small goods stores, and Rupert Bird, the man who lived in Harrisburg and who had the Amish Bakery.

  The detective looked at Ruth. �
��Do you really think that Alan Avery might have thought the bureau contained your bread recipe?”

  Ruth nodded. “It’s very possible.”

  “It does give him a reason to be there. Why else would someone break into an empty bakery at night unless you keep large sums of cash? Did you keep a lot of cash on your premises?” He stared at Ruth.

  “I only bank once a week. Joe, my bakery manager is always insisting we should bank at the end of every day. I tell him ‘no.’ I’ve always banked once a week.”

  “So you regularly had large sums of cash on hand?”

  Ruth said, “Sometimes. But we banked yesterday.”

  “If they were after money, wouldn’t they be watching the place to see how often they banked and what day?” Ettie asked.

  “They might not be efficient thieves, Mrs. Smith.”

  “I was starting to think you ladies might be right, up until I found out about the cash. How much money are we talking about, Ruth? What would you normally bank every week?”

  “Usually just under twenty thousand dollars.”

  The detective gasped. “The bread business must be good.”

  “I do have rates, taxes, the accountant, and the staff bill to pay,” Ruth said defensively. “And I insist on being paid in cash.”

  “Ruth, I wasn’t being disrespectful. I’m sorry for my comment.”

  Ruth nodded.

  “Now that I know how much cash you regularly keep on your premises, that changes everything. He very well might have been after your recipe, but he’s more likely to have been after the cash. You might be right, he could’ve thought while he was there he’d see if he could find your recipe.” He placed his hands on his desk and laced his fingers together. “Then that could explain why the Bible was in his hands. And when there was no cash, and no bread recipe, his accomplice did away with him in a fit of rage.”

  “You believe us? You believe he might have been after the bread recipe?” Ruth asked.

  “I’m not ruling anything out at this stage. We’ve got two and possibly three reasons for someone to break in. We have the cash, and the recipe, or the bread starters.” He took a pad and a pen out of his top drawer. “Now, Ruth, can you give me the names of all the people who wanted to buy your recipe?”