Speak With Confection: An Amish Cupcake Cozy Mystery Read online

  Then came the announcement I had been dreading. “And now the Any Other Variety Goat, any age,” came the blaring announcement over the loudspeaker.

  I sank back into my seat, trying to make myself look inconspicuous. Some beautifully groomed goats walked in—I assumed they were the Cashmere goats Francis had mentioned, as they had long woolly hair. They too behaved as perfectly as the other goats had. There were some taller goats, but I had no idea what breed they were. Then came Eleanor, half leading, half dragging Gigi. She managed to get Gigi into the ring and behind the others to join the circle. I noticed the exhibitor directly behind her walked out of the regular line, giving Gigi a wide berth.

  The judge this time was a man. I couldn’t see his expression when Gigi arrived, but I could only imagine.

  All the goats walked around politely, all except Gigi who pulled back and then did a couple of jumps forward. Still, it was all going better than I thought. I hadn’t expected that Eleanor would be able to get her to walk on the leash at all.

  I jumped when a voice spoke beside me. I turned to see Matilda. She was rubbing her hands with glee. “They’re doing awfully well, aren’t they!”

  “Um, err, yes,” I lied.

  The judge indicated they should all line up. He indicated Gigi should line up last. Gigi did not want to stand still. She ran around Eleanor in circles, wrapping the leash around her legs. Eleanor fell down face forward and the goat stood on her back.

  “Shouldn’t we help her?” I leaped to my feet, but Matilda pulled me back down. I landed on the hard wooden seat with a thump.

  “No! She’ll be disqualified and won’t win anything if you help her. That’s what happens with Olympic marathon runners. Assistance means disqualification.”

  “But this is a goat show, not an Olympic marathon,” I protested.

  Matilda shook her head and glared at me. “No! I’m sorry, you will have to leave her alone. She won’t win if you help her.”

  “She’s not going to win anyway,” I said. “She’s in last place, and all those other goats are well-behaved.” And much better looking, I added silently.

  When I looked back up, I saw that Eleanor had miraculously gotten herself out of the mess. She was now standing once more and was clutching Gigi around the neck. The judge had now reached her. He bent down to take a closer look.

  “This isn’t good,” Matilda muttered.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Didn’t you notice? The judge asked the other exhibitors to show him their goats’ mouths. We didn’t practice opening Gigi’s mouth.”

  I didn’t know what to say. I watched as Eleanor placed her hands in Gigi’s mouth, encouraging her to open her mouth for the judge. “Why does the judge want to look in the goats’ mouths?”

  “I expect he wants to see their teeth or something,” Matilda said.

  The judge bent down, his long white beard approaching Gigi’s face.

  Suddenly, Gigi jumped forward. She grabbed his beard in her teeth. I don’t know if the judge got a good look at her teeth, but I’m sure all the spectators did. She chewed on his beard while the judge screamed and flailed his arms.

  I jumped to my feet, intending to go to the judge’s assistance, when an unaccompanied Toggenburg goat ran into the ring.

  A spectator behind me gasped. “That’s Liberty Hill Farm Sweetened Wine!”

  I heard a high-pitched scream. A woman ran into the ring and turned to face the crowd. “She’s dead! Gemma Calhoun is dead!”

  Chapter 3

  The next few minutes were a blur. People ran around in a panic, and the sound of screams cut through the air. Eleanor somehow made Gigi release the judge’s beard, and she managed to wrestle her back to her pen. “What happened?”

  I clutched my throat. “You know as much as I do. Somebody yelled that Gemma Calhoun was dead.”

  Francis appeared at our side. “It was murder!” Her voice trembled.

  “Are you sure?” I asked her.

  She nodded. “I had been to the bathroom, and then I was buying some coffee when one of the stewards I knew told me Gemma had been murdered. He said nobody can leave the grounds because the police are on their way.”

  Before she could say any more, the loudspeaker sputtered. “Ladies and gentlemen, there has been an unfortunate incident. The police have asked everybody to remain in place until they can question you all. Nobody is allowed to leave.” The microphone crackled and then cut out.

  “But I didn’t hear a shot,” Francis protested.

  Matilda stepped forward. “Maybe the murderer used a silencer. Or maybe the vic was stabbed or garrotted.”

  Eleanor piped up. “Or simply strangled. Or maybe she was hit over the head with a blunt object, or maybe she was poisoned. There are many types of poison that can kill quickly.”

  “Honestly, Eleanor, we don’t know if the vic was poisoned,” Matilda said in a scolding tone. “And if she was, then we don’t know that the poison was administered recently. Maybe it had been building up over time.” She turned to Francis. “Did the vic appear healthy? Was her hair falling out?”

  Francis’s face grew paler.

  “We don’t know the method of murder,” I said to Matilda and Eleanor. “I think it’s time to change the subject. Francis isn’t looking too well.”

  Francis sat down on a wooden stool. “I’m all right. I feel terrible that I said nobody liked Gemma, and now she’s dead.”

  “You were simply telling the truth,” Matilda said. “Obviously, somebody didn’t like her, or she would still be alive.” Matilda ignored my warning glance and pushed on. “And Jane, maybe your detective will show up.”

  I rubbed my hand over my forehead. “He’s not my detective.”

  I had not seen Detective Damon McCloud for some time as he had been called away to give evidence on a case. I had no idea if he was back in town yet. While we were not yet dating, I was certain our relationship was progressing in that direction. I was thinking this over when Matilda elbowed me hard in the ribs. “Isn’t that him over there?”

  I looked up but only saw the back of a man’s head disappearing through a door. However, I did recognize the other man, Detective Carter Stirling, a rather unpleasant man with an attitude. “It could be Damon, but I only saw the back of his head.”

  “It was him,” Matilda said. “I’m certain of it. My observation skills are second to none.”

  “The police are going to interview us all!” Francis’s voice rose to a high pitch. “That means they think one of us did it.”

  “But one of us did do it,” Matilda said. “The victim died, I assume, in this very building.”

  “But maybe the poison was administered to her some time ago,” Eleanor pointed out.

  “As I already told you, Eleanor, we don’t know if it was poison yet,” Matilda said. “As usual, you’re jumping to conclusions. And maybe you should feed Gigi some more hay so she doesn’t climb out of her stall.”

  I shot a look at the goat. Indeed, she had finished the hay and was sizing up the wall of the pen.

  Instead of protesting, Eleanor threw some hay in with her. “I don’t think showing a goat was such a good idea,” she admitted. “Maybe we should show Mr. Crumbles instead.”

  “I’m sure they don’t have any classes for Any Other Variety at cat shows,” I said firmly.

  Eleanor waved one hand at me in dismissal. “Oh, it’s perfectly all right, Jane. You don’t lead a cat around on a leash at a cat show. You simply put them in a cage.”

  “I don’t think Mr. Crumbles would take too kindly to a cage.”

  Eleanor nodded slowly. “Yes, I do think you’re right.”

  “You again!”

  I spun around to see Detective Stirling standing there, his hands on his hips.

  “Do you three have to get involved with every murder in this town?”

  Francis gasped.

  “We were simply showing our goat,” I said, my tone angry.

  Detective
Stirling took one step forward. “Be that as it may, nobody is allowed to leave until we take everybody’s statements.”

  “Was she shot?” Matilda asked.

  The detective looked somewhat taken aback. “Excuse me?”

  Matilda cupped her hand to his ear and said loudly, “Was she shot?”

  Detective Stirling bristled. “I heard you the first time. You can’t ask me that question. It’s an ongoing investigation.”

  Matilda shook her head. “You haven’t taken my point. My point is that if the vic was shot or stabbed, then everybody here could be a suspect, but if she was poisoned with a slow-acting poison, then it possibly wouldn’t be anyone here at all.”

  A slow red flush traveled up Stirling’s face. He opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Damon appeared at his elbow. “Hello Jane,” he began sheepishly, but Stirling cut him off.

  “We need to have a word.” He jerked his head to a row of seats over by the wall and the two walked over.

  “I wonder what that’s all about?” I said.

  I didn’t have long to wait because they came back presently. “I won’t be on this case,” Damon said. “Detective Stirling will be interviewing everybody.”

  With a curt nod, Stirling addressed Francis. “And you are?”

  “Francis Smith.”

  “And what are you doing here?”

  “I’m showing my goat, of course.” She pointed to her goat.

  Stirling peered at the goat. “And is that goat in direct opposition to the victim’s goat?”

  “Well, um, well, yes,” Francis stammered. She was quick to add, “But all the goats here are. It’s a competition, a goat show.”

  Damon tapped me under the elbow and led me away a few paces. “I was going to call you. I only got back into town late last night and then got called here on this case. Anyway, it looks as though I’m off the case.”

  “I don’t understand,” I said. “Why would they call you out on the case and then…” My voice trailed away.

  Damon’s ears turned pink and he shuffled from one foot to the other. “Um, Carter, that is, Detective Stirling, um thinks I might be prejudiced on your behalf, and you’re a suspect—in his eyes at least,” he finished lamely.

  I rubbed my forehead and sighed. “I see. Damon, was she shot?”

  He cast a look over at Detective Stirling. “No, she was poisoned, but keep that to yourself.”

  “Surely we’re not suspects? We had never even met the woman. Matilda and Eleanor simply wanted to show their goat. In fact, we had never even heard of the victim until Francis, the lady over there, told us that she always wins.”

  “Look, I’m sure Carter will sort that all out,” Damon said. “I wouldn’t worry about it too much, Jane. He’ll just take your witness statements and then you’ll be able to go. I doubt you’ll hear from him again. After all, as you say, none of you had a motive, and you hadn’t even met the victim.”

  “I’m sure you’re right.” Still, the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach wouldn’t go away. Detective Stirling was now talking to Matilda and Eleanor, and they looked none too pleased. I couldn’t hear what he was saying to them.

  I was worried why Damon hadn’t called me. Maybe he didn’t have the same feelings for me any longer. Or maybe I had imagined his feelings in the first place. His next words put me at ease. “Jane, maybe I could call you soon and we could have dinner?”

  I tried not to look too pleased, but I could feel my face burning. I was certain I was blushing. “That would be lovely,” I said in the most even tone I could muster.

  Damon smiled from ear to ear. “Then I had better get going before Carter gives me a hard time. I’ll be in touch.” With that, he tapped me briefly on the arm and disappeared.

  Matilda and Eleanor hurried over to me. “Detective Stirling is a fool,” Eleanor said.

  I expected Matilda to rebuke her, but she readily agreed. “He certainly is! Do you know what he said to us, Jane?”

  “No,” I began, but she interrupted me.

  “He said it was a well-known fact that Gemma Calhoun was vehemently opposed to the Other Variety Class at the show and he thinks that gave us a motive for murder.”

  “But there’s no prize money, just a ribbon, and besides, you didn’t have a hope of winning!”

  Both of them appeared quite offended. “Maybe Gigi would have won if she hadn’t eaten the judge’s beard,” Eleanor protested. “Detective Stirling said people enter these shows for the glory, and he said we’re all suspects. Jane, we don’t want the police to look too closely at us.”

  I was puzzled. “What do you mean?”

  Matilda cleared her throat and glared at Eleanor. “She means we don’t want to be suspects. Jane, we have to solve this murder, and the sooner the better.”

  Chapter 4

  As soon as I walked into my sister’s house, I relaxed. I remembered my Amish childhood as being a peaceful one, despite the fact I had worked hard. I didn’t remember the stresses and strains of everyday life I now experienced as a non-Amish person, and I didn’t think that was simply because I had been looking through the rose-tinted glasses of childhood.

  “Wilkom,” Rebecca said. “Come in, all of you.” She cast a look at our feet. “Your cat isn’t with you?”

  “No, we thought it would be rude to bring him with us,” Eleanor said.

  Rebecca was visibly relieved. “Then come in. Ephraim is stoking the fire.”

  We walked into the plain living room. Ephraim straightened up when he saw us. “The nights are starting to cool a little already,” he said, to a murmur of agreement.

  “I believe you took one of the goats to a show today?” His lips twitched at the sides.

  “Yes, and somebody was murdered,” Matilda announced.

  Rebecca shot me a sharp look. “You didn’t tell me that, Jane!”

  “I didn’t want to worry you.”

  “Worry me? Why do you always think I’ll be worried?

  Matilda appeared oblivious to the tension and pushed on. “Yes, she was apparently a famous goat breeder. Jane said she was poisoned.”

  I put my finger to my lips. “Hush, Matilda. Damon asked me not to tell anybody. I told you that in confidence.”

  Rebecca’s eyes shot skyward. “Damon? The nice detective?”

  I sighed long and hard. Maybe this dinner wasn’t going to be quite so peaceful, after all.

  Rebecca ushered us to the table. After everyone took their places, I went with her to the kitchen to help.

  “Didn’t you say you hadn’t heard from the detective for a while?”

  I nodded. “Yes, apparently he got back to town last night.”

  Rebecca frowned. “And he hadn’t contacted you in all that time?”

  “No, but he did invite me to have dinner with him.”

  Rebecca clasped her hands in delight. “Wunderbar! Now help me carry this to the table.”

  We carried bowls of mashed potato, chicken gravy, bread, butter, a pot of brewed coffee, and salted pretzels to have with the ice cream for dessert. In this community, desserts that wouldn’t melt during the first course were always put out on the dinner table at the same time as the main meal.

  I took my seat, and we all closed our eyes for the silent prayer which the Amish had before every meal, and in this community, after every meal as well. I always knew when to open my eyes. I had long ago given Matilda and Eleanor the tip to say the Lord’s Prayer and then open their eyes when they finished it. On this occasion, they must have recited the Lord’s Prayer rather quickly because when I opened my eyes, theirs were already open. When they saw me looking at them, they both shut their eyes. I resisted the urge to laugh with some difficulty.

  “Do you like your new house?” Ephraim asked me.

  “It’s wonderful. I’m so glad you sold it to me.”

  “It will be gut having you living so close,” Rebecca said.

  Matilda quirked one eyebrow. “But she was close to
you when we were living in the apartment over your cupcake store. You probably spend more time there than you spend here.”

  Rebecca chuckled. “Well, it’s the thought that counts.”

  I ate some mashed potato and then looked up to see Matilda and Eleanor eating their food hungrily. “This is good,” Matilda said when she had finished her mouthful. “What do you call this?”

  “It’s pot pie,” Rebecca said.

  “It doesn’t look like a pie.”

  “It’s probably called pot pie after bot boi, which is the Pennsylvania Dutch name for square noodles,” I explained. “I expect Englischers heard the name and thought it was pot pie, but it’s more like chicken and dumplings—you know, square noodles with chicken and gravy, and vegetables, sometimes only potatoes. I’ve made it for you. Don’t you remember? I laid the strips of pastry out to dry on the back of a kitchen chair.”

  “Ah yes, but you haven’t made it for a while though, Jane.” Matilda shot me a reproachful look. “And I don’t think you ever said the name of it, but yes, it is rather delicious.”

  “So what news do you have of the community?” I asked Rebecca.

  “Oh, it’s the same as usual,” she said. “The bishop and his wife are well. Our children are gut. Everyone is gut.”

  “And I see that your goats haven’t escaped,” Ephraim said with obvious relief.

  “Thanks to you raising the fence,” I told him. “I had no idea goats could jump so high.”

  “Jah, goats can jump quite high from a standstill and wild goats even more so,” he said. “I’m sure that fence will keep them in, and there are those old tree stumps in the center of the field that the goats can stand on.”

  “It’s ideal for goats,” Eleanor said. “They do enjoy standing on things.”

  “And they enjoy eating beards,” I told them. “Did they ever try to eat your beard, Ephraim?”