* * *
* * *
The next morning, Lia and Hayley went to church—together, but driving separately. St. Vincent’s was between Crandalsburg and the craft fair barn, and Lia had decided to continue on to the barn afterward.
In the church parking lot, Hayley said, “I’ll come by around one with the picnic lunch, okay? We can eat during your break.”
“That should be a good time. And you might want to pick up a cake from Carolyn Hanson’s booth while you’re there to take back with you. If she hasn’t sold out by then.”
“I might pick up more than that. I haven’t had any time to bake. Remember how I used to love it? Maybe that’s what I should be doing, making cakes or something, instead of marketing.” Lia gave her a look, and Hayley shrugged and grinned. “Just an idea. Don’t worry, I won’t be making any hasty decisions.”
They hugged, and Lia climbed into her white Camry, then lowered her window to wave good-bye as she drove off.
It was another lovely day. May in the Crandalsburg area wasn’t any different from May in York. But Lia felt more aware of it as she drove on quiet roads lined with spring-blooming trees or acres of sprouting crops.
She thought of the alpaca farm she’d visited a few weeks ago and decided to make another trip. She loved seeing the animals, and it wasn’t too soon to start knitting sweaters and scarves with those special yarns. But would she have an outlet for those items? The thought of the craft fair folding and not having any reason to knit with those yarns started to bring her down, that and her lingering concerns about Hayley. She clicked on the radio for some distracting music.
The sight of the craft barn up ahead cheered her, and she soon turned onto the approaching drive. The red-painted sides, set off by white-trimmed windows, were nicely lit by the sun, which also turned the metal rooster atop one of the white cupolas into a glowing beacon. The rooster, she’d been told, had been made by Lou Krause, the metalworker who had a booth at the craft fair. One of Lou’s pieces, a wall hanging, had tempted Lia. Perhaps she’d take another look that day if there was time.
Lia slowed as she always did when she drove up the narrow drive, to soak in the sight of the three-story structure. She’d been told that the building had been used as a hospital during the Civil War, which touched her heart, especially recalling the minimal medical aid available at the time for the poor young men and the suffering they must have endured. How, she wondered, could anyone think of tearing down such a historic and beautiful structure? It boggled her mind, and Lia dearly hoped Darren Peebles’s statement had been thrown out only to agitate Belinda and was not what he truly intended.
Coming directly after the nine o’clock Mass, she knew she’d be arriving earlier than the Sunday opening time of eleven and planned to knit in her car as she waited for Belinda to arrive with her keys. Lia was surprised, therefore, as she drew closer, to see the side door ajar. She pulled into the parking area behind the split-rail fence and spotted Belinda’s black Acura in the lot. A second car that Lia didn’t recognize, a Lexus, sat a few spaces away, though she hardly knew what everyone exhibiting at the fair drove. Maybe it was Alfred Schumacher’s, and he was there to discuss the sale of his barn with Belinda, or perhaps to be persuaded against it? But the red luxury car seemed an unlikely ride for the elderly man, who claimed to need the money from the property’s sale.
Lia parked and picked up the box of knitted items she’d brought to replenish her stock from the previous day. As she approached the barn, a feeling of uneasiness fell over her, though she tried to shrug it off. Surely it was only the unusual silence, when she was used to the noisy bustle of other vendors arriving. Still, it felt eerie.
Lia paused at the opened door. All was dim inside, the only light coming from the barn’s high windows, and quiet, so quiet. She had to urge herself to step inside, and when she finally did, she left the door open behind her.
She needed to blink several times to adjust to the gloom but eventually was able to discern a figure in the shadows over to her left. Belinda? Lia moved toward her, calling out hello, and expected to see her friend look over. But the woman remained tautly in the same position, slightly bent forward over something on the floor. Finally, her head turned, and the look on her face was frightening.
“Lia,” Belinda said, her voice cracking. “He’s dead.”
Lia stopped. She couldn’t have heard that, could she? But a few steps closer confirmed that she had. A man lay on the floor beneath both women’s gazes, clearly lifeless.
“It’s Darren,” Belinda said.
“Are you sure?” What Lia saw was a man in a suit, with his face covered.
“Yes. I lifted the place mat to see.”
Good heavens! It was one of Lia’s knitted navy blue place mats, its white daisy incongruously cheery. Peering closer, Lia saw what looked like a circle of dried blood surrounding Darren’s head, mixed with shards of broken pottery. Two tall, handcrafted candles flanked his body, and worst of all a metal sculpture of a grinning clown had been planted inches beyond Lia’s blue place mat like a bizarre headstone.
Lia looked to Belinda with horror, unable to voice what sprang instantly to mind.
“I didn’t do it,” the craft fair manager said flatly. She stepped back and pulled a phone from her jacket pocket. Lia watched as she punched in three numbers. “Yes,” she said after a moment. “My name is Belinda Peebles.”
She coughed and cleared her voice before adding, “I’m at the Schumacher barn. Send the police. There’s been a murder.”
Chapter 4
With years of nursing behind her, Lia thought she knew how to deal with stress. But she was learning what a huge difference it made to not be the one in control. As she watched officials and technicians flood the area, she thought she understood what it was like to be the patient lying on the table, waiting anxiously for what came next.
She worried for Belinda, who’d stated to Lia that she didn’t do it. Belinda had also told her that her spare key to the barn had been stolen. But she’d shut down after that, possibly as shocked as Lia and processing it in her own way. Lia knew how bad it would look for her friend, at least at first glance. Would a deeper examination find evidence to exonerate her?
Lia thought about the broken pottery, the candles, and the clown sculpture placed next to the body, all apparently taken from the craft fair’s vendor stalls, including her own knitted place mat. But why? Besides the fact that Belinda was not a murderer, it would be totally unlike her to then set such a strange scene like that. But would the police see it that way?
Lia and Belinda were quickly separated for questioning. Lia told all she knew, which was minimal, but she was asked to go over it multiple times. She understood why, though the repetition was still terribly tedious. It was a relief when it ended and she was told she could leave. Lia had assured Hayley by phone that there was no need to come, but she was cheered to spot her waving behind the cordoned-off area and hurried over.