A Path Made Plain Page 23

  “I’m glad you asked me.” He saw Rochelle’s laptop on the kitchen island. “I guess I should let your aenti know I’m here.”

  “I’ll tell her. Go ahead, the computer is on island.” Betsy headed for the lanai, and Thad stepped over to the kitchen island. He pulled up a nearby stool from the corner.

  Thad heard the murmur of voices, a deeper male voice, and the female voices. He popped the USB stick into the slot on the computer and waited while the computer recognized the storage in the drive. Video files, several of them.

  He clicked on the first video and turned up the volume.

  He recognized the setting immediately, the interior of Dish and Spoon. Mitch, the dirty dog, had set up hidden surveillance cameras throughout the restaurant. This first file was in the dining room, nearly empty. A group of men sat around one table. One of them he recognized straightaway. Mitch and his business partner, Pete something. A Polish name he couldn’t recall at the moment.

  Another man looked vaguely familiar, and Thad wasn’t sure if it was because the guy was a regular customer. Maybe not. Even if he were, Thad didn’t see diners too often.

  They all wore suits and the table was covered with dirty plates holding the remainders of their meals.

  He could barely hear them speaking, but it was enough.

  “So, we can guarantee you a spot in office if you help us get Ohio in the next presidential election. It’s going to be a key state.”

  “There’s no way I can do it, gentleman,” the man said, steepling his hands. “There’s the matter of something called the electoral college.”

  They kept talking about business dealings, money owed to this one and that, in addition to campaign funds guaranteed to the guy running for office.

  Thad paused the video file and opened an Internet browser. A quick search told him the identity of the would-be senator, Channing Bright. The elections had come and gone, and the guy had won by a landslide. It looked like he’d had some help from the men around the table.

  If this file were given to the wrong, or right, people, depending on how you looked at it, Bright would be in trouble. The election was over, but he didn’t take office until after the new year.

  Was this what Mitch had been hiding? Surely, the police knew about the surveillance files. What about these?

  He closed that file, then opened another.

  Mitch, talking to the would-be senator himself.

  “You know my situation, Mr. Bright.”

  “I do.”

  “Well, look over your shoulder right there.”

  The future senator glanced toward the camera. “At what?”

  “Smile, I’ve got this place wired and bugged, if you catch my meaning. It would be a shame if word got out about your activities in my restaurant.”

  “You’re not serious.”

  “I’m a million dollars serious.”

  “It’ll take time for me to get so much together. I can’t believe you’re threatening me.”

  “Oh, this is no threat. Come to think of it, my requirements just doubled. Look, two million is enough to give me some breathing room here. I ain’t gonna be going to Tahiti or anything. Paying off some bills and staying afloat. The restaurant business is tough.”

  “Get a loan, then, and leave me out of your business.”

  “I couldn’t dream of it. Desperate times, as they say.”

  “All right, I’ll work on it.”

  “You have one week. I’ll get you a bank account number for you to wire the money to, and you do the rest.”

  The senator-to-be shook his head. “One week isn’t long.”

  “It’s long enough.” Mitch stood. “A pleasure doing business with you. Smile big when you leave. I have cameras everywhere. And good luck on election day.”

  The man glowered at Mitch, then stomped from the vacant restaurant.

  Thad had seen enough.

  *

  Pete sucked in a deep breath and tried not to look triumphant for no reason at all. “Thaddeus Zook? No, I don’t believe I’ve met him.”

  “Betsy’s quite taken with the young man. I like him. He’s a bit brooding, a bit of a wayward soul, but I think he’s on his way back.”

  “Back?”

  “To his faith.”

  “Ah, I see.” But he didn’t. “So, are they dating or something?”

  “Dating?” Rochelle’s jaw dropped. “No, Betsy wouldn’t date him. She’s Amish and wouldn’t be able to court someone who’s not baptized into the church.”

  He was making mistakes. “Ah, so that’s not why he’s visiting tonight.”

  “No, he’s borrowing my computer, checking some files.”

  “Ah, I see.” Pete’s brain floundered for what to do next. So maybe Thad did find something. If only he could peek over the guy’s shoulder. He heaved himself to a standing position, taking care to mind his sore knee. “I should get going. I need to put some ice on my knee. Thank you for supper.”

  “Thank you for the ice cream.”

  He wasn’t going to act now, not with Rochelle’s family all around her. Better he leave and deal with Thaddeus in due time. Not too much time, though. He stood in the doorway, squinting toward the kitchen island where Thaddeus sat with his back to them, Betsy beside his elbow.

  “See? This is my former boss, and his business partner. That other guy is now a senator in Ohio. And the fourth guy, I’m not sure who he is.”

  Thad fell silent. He pushed a button. “Betsy, you probably shouldn’t watch anymore. I’m sorry.”

  There was no way Pete could leave now. He reached for his sore knee. “Aw, Rochelle, do you mind if I sit a moment? It’s my knee.”

  “Of course. Would you like another cup of coffee?”

  “Please.” Pete limped back to the patio chair he’d occupied moments before. His phone buzzed in his pocket. Bright, probably. He let the call go to voice mail. He’d pay for it later, but for now he was handling things the way he wanted to.

  *

  Betsy tried to blot out the images, the angry words on the video as she washed the supper dishes. Aenti Chelle had wanted her to load the dishwasher instead, but tonight Betsy had energy to burn off before she could sleep.

  Thad told her he used to work at that restaurant, and the owner had been murdered. Also, someone had tucked the keychain with the video files into his culinary gear. He had paused the video because one of the men—not his boss, but another man he didn’t recognize—made threats against his bosses, striking one of them in the face.

  Yes, Aenti Chelle didn’t have a television in her home with good reason. Once you’d seen something, it was nearly impossible to forget what you’d seen. Those were some evil men around the table in the video, men who tried to buy an election unfairly. Trying to use violence and threats to get what they wanted.

  Thad left not long ago, his brow furrowed. She didn’t blame him. He said something about calling the authorities in Ohio first thing, which probably meant he’d end up going back to Ohio to give witness about the files and discovering them.

  She turned the hot water on and filled up the pot, sticky with residue from cooking rice.

  If Thad left for Ohio, all the better. He’d been right, tonight, when he said, “Betsy, if things were different …”

  Things would have to be a lot different. Thad seemed to be softening some. He’d also mentioned something tonight about spending time with an old friend he knew before they both left the Order.

  Lots of the time, people who’d been gone as long as he had didn’t fare well after returning to their Orders. Quite a few left again.

  She didn’t like how she felt now, not seeing how they could be together, or even seriously consider being together, unless he made some changes.

  “Gotte, please help Thaddeus. He came here to Pinecraft for a reason. Help him for his sake, not mine. I would rather he be somewhere else and be who You intended him to be, than be here near me for the wrong reasons.” She’d whispered t
he words aloud, but glanced to the lanai where Aenti Chelle sat, alone.

  Truly, she had enough to fret over with the bakery without adding whatever feelings she had about Thaddeus to that stack of worries. Aenti Chelle had always been good to offer wisdom. Tonight, though, Betsy thought her aenti had her own battle to fight.

  Also, her aenti probably welcomed the quiet time, and when Daniel departed not long after Thaddeus had roared away on his motorcycle, Aenti Chelle had headed to the lanai, her eyes rimmed in red.

  Betsy, too, welcomed the quiet business of doing dishes and didn’t mind Emma leaving after supper, saying she was meeting up with some of the others at Big Olaf’s. This in spite of the fact Daniel had brought plenty of ice cream for all of them.

  Another worry niggled her brain. Emma certainly didn’t act as if she’d just called off a wedding. The uproar hadn’t rippled through the family yet, giving Betsy the idea Emma hadn’t told their parents. She shook her head as she rinsed the silverware. But then, it was better to not marry than to marry with doubts.

  So much swirling through her mind, much like the dishwater curling into a tiny circular current as it disappeared down the drain.

  She did her best to leave all her burdens at God’s feet in prayer. Many of them she could do nothing about.

  Please, Gotte, sort it all out.

  25

  Thaddeus jabbed the button on his phone to end the call.

  “Stupid officer.”

  First thing Thursday morning he’d called the Columbus Police Department and asked for the criminal investigation department and Detective Kincaid, the officer handling the Mitchell Gabryszeski homicide. The officer was out sick, so Thad’s call was shuffled to another officer helping with the caseload today.

  The man’s tone made Thad feel like he was a bother, an armchair detective who did nothing except watch CSI reruns. Yes, he’d listened to Thad’s story. Thad tried to explain he had recordings of video files to possibly tie the new Senator Bright to Mitch’s murder, but the officer sounded bored.

  “I get several calls like this a day on every case I work,” the man had said. “Look, I’ll take a message for Detective Kincaid. He’s going to be back tomorrow morning well. I’ll have him get back with you then. If it’s something notable, I’m sure he’ll follow up.”

  Thad left his number and forced his irritation away. Of course, Mitch’s murder wasn’t the only case on the officer’s desk. With every day that passed since Mitch’s death, his case slipped lower and lower on the priority list. With no new leads and fresh cases, it was understandable.

  Well, he’d done what he needed to do. But just in case, Thad added the keychain to his own plain keying.

  He yawned. He’d seen Betsy in the morning before he left the bakery, and she looked as though she hadn’t rested well. She basically told him someone had called the news station and badmouthed the bakery, telling them someone who wasn’t Amish did the baking.

  “I’m sorry,” he’d said. It was the truth. He wasn’t Amish. “If it’s going to cause problems for you, I’ll stop working for you. I’d hate to have to do it, but I might have to give notice anyway if I get the job I interviewed for.”

  She’d looked conflicted when he told her about the positive interview he’d had at Palm Trees.

  “I understand if you have to work somewhere else. You’re talented, Thaddeus.” She’d given him a tired smile.

  “Here, this is for you.” He handed her a folded piece of paper.

  “What is it?”

  “My recipe for tiramisu pie.”

  “Thank you.” She gave him a hint of smile in return. “The customers enjoyed it, so I’m definitely going to add it to the menu.”

  “Great.” He’d left before the conversation continued, and after sneaking a dog treat to Winston.

  Thad’s phone bleeped, and he jumped.

  “Thaddeus Zook.”

  “Thad, it’s Pete Stucenski.”

  “Hey, Pete. How are you?” Stucenski. He needed to write that down.

  “Good, good. Listen, I’m calling because I’m hoping you’ve taken some time to decide if you’re coming back to Dish and Spoon.”

  “Uh, I don’t believe I am. I’ve actually moved.”

  “Ah. You don’t say. Where to?”

  “Florida.”

  “Nice, nice. Especially this time of year.”

  “It’s been definitely different than Ohio.”

  Silence hung on the line.

  Thad broke it first. “I may have another job here, I think.”

  “Oh. Where at?”

  He paused. “I, uh, rather wouldn’t say just yet.”

  “I see.” The two syllables sounded crisp. “Well, if you need a reference, feel free to put me down and I’ll give a good word for you.”

  “Thanks, Pete. I appreciate that.”

  “You’re welcome.” The call went dead.

  His gut tightened. Strange, or coincidence, Pete would call right after Thad found the video files?

  Time would drag until Detective Kincaid returned his call tomorrow. If he didn’t hear anything in the morning, he’d show the Columbus PD his persistence.

  *

  Aenti Chelle burst into the bakery on Friday, not long before one in the afternoon. She carried her laptop computer case.

  “It aired, it aired!” Aenti Chelle’s smile made her appear younger than her years. She marched up to the counter triumphantly.

  “What?” Betsy looked up from the case. She’d been counting the fried pies and was preparing to let Mrs. Byler know how many fresh pies to fry.

  “The bakery. On television.”

  “Oh. Susan said she’d let me know if they were going to air it or not.”

  “Well, whatever the issue was, I guess the powers at the station didn’t think it was big enough to prevent the segment from broadcasting.” Aenti Chelle moved to the nearest table and set her case on top. “Here. I downloaded it from the web site so you can see it. I’m sorry. I couldn’t wait, so I came right over after I finished lunch.”

  Betsy’s vision swam for a moment. Television. Her bakery was on television. She grabbed the edge of the counter to steady herself. Thousands of people probably saw the show. She had no idea how many. The thought of the number of viewers made her stomach churn.

  “Here. Just a moment and I’ll get it to play.” Aenti Chelle beamed.

  Betsy joined her at the table and watched as her aenti clicked on a file. It opened and the image filled the screen. The words “Around Town” drifted into view along with some happy-sounding music.

  “What’s this? What’s going on?” Vera Byler said as she emerged from the kitchen. “I didn’t know you were going to start playing the television in the bakery.”

  Betsy turned to face Mrs. Byler. “No one has said anything about television in the bakery. This morning, the television station showed the video story they made about the bakery. Aenti Chelle is here so I can see it. We all can.”

  Mrs. Byler was probably the one who told the television people about Thaddeus doing prep work in the bakery. Betsy immediately regretted her suspicion, but then it made sense, as much as Mrs. Byler had made some hurtful comments about the bakery, even after beginning to work at the shop.

  “Ready? Here goes.” Aenti Chelle reached down and clicked a key on the laptop.

  “A new bakery opens in Sarasota’s Amish village of Pinecraft, and its young owner serves up a variety of tasty treats for every palate,” came the broadcaster’s voice.

  “I’ve always loved to bake. Some women are better at quilting and such. I leave it to them, but I’d much rather find myself making pies, doughnuts, or fried pies.” There she was, with her back turned slightly to the camera. She could see her jaw line, but not quite her face.

  The narrator did a good job at explaining how the Amish didn’t like to be recorded or photographed.

  Betsy had never imagined herself on television. Her stomach quit churning and instead wou
nd itself into a knot. What if some of the others didn’t like even seeing this much of her on television? She listened to the conversation, mingled with commentary from the newswoman.

  Now a shot of her hands and forearms as she rolled out a fresh pie crust, then carefully folding the crust in half and sliding it onto a clean pan. Fingers, fluting the edges of the crust.

  “ … I am thankful to my family for helping me, as well as local friends who help me with making pie filling, working the cash register.”

  A shot of pies in the display case.

  Henry Hostetler on camera. “I’ve known the family for years and I’ve had Betsy’s pie before at local haystack suppers. Nothing better than a slice of cherry pie and a good cup of coffee.”

  A shot of the coffee display, with a customer, face blurred, pouring themselves a cup of the fresh brew.

  “Here at Pinecraft Pies and Pastry, the coffee is always free, but a donation jar is always nearby, and Betsy says all donations go to the local Haiti mission fund.”

  “We’re open every day except Sunday,” came Betsy’s voice, with a shot of an Amish couple, their backs to the camera, walking up to the bakery.

  “And when you stop by Pinecraft Pies and Pastry, make sure you say hello to Winston, Betsy’s charming dachshund.” A shot of Betsy, back to camera, talking to the announcer as Winston sits up on his hind legs.

  A flashback to the studios, to the morning show announcers. “Now, that just made my mouth water and gave me a sudden craving for pie,” said the male announcer. “I’ve never been over to Pinecraft before, either, although I’ve heard of it.”

  “The village is primarily a winter vacation destination for the Amish and Mennonites from all over the country, especially Ohio, Indiana, and Pennsylvania,” said the newswoman, now in the studio. “Betsy and a few other residents live there year-round, but the population can grow to as high as seven thousand in the winter.”

  “I hear there’s a pie contest this weekend—”

  The video ended.

  “Oh, my.” Betsy’s hands trembled. “I don’t know how they managed to put it all in order. And they mentioned Winston, too.”

  “You did well.” Aenti Chelle patted her arm. “There. Relax. The best thing now is to just keep doing what you’re doing. Making good pie and caring for people.”