Page 71 of A Gathering of Secrets

She shakes her head. “T.J. found it taped to the door when he brought in breakfast burritos at six A.M.”

In my office, I flip on my computer, use my letter opener to slice open the envelope, and read.

Mark Petersheim killed Daniel Gingerich.

Rising, I leave my office and go back to reception. Both women watch in silence as I cross to the front door where the note was found, open it, and peer out across Main Street.

“Mona?” I say, without looking at her.

“Yeah?” She comes up beside me and we look across the street at the newest Amish tourist shop.

“Dawdy Haus” is Deitsh for “Grandfather’s House.” Owned by Janine Fourman, the shop is the first “gently used” Amish shop to grace downtown Painters Mill and carries everything from bassinets and lanterns to postcards and homemade fudge. Like most downtown merchants, Janine had been assigned five parking slots in front of her rental space. She came to me a month ago, complaining about the customers from Gordon’s Five and Dime next door commandeering her parking spaces. The situation wasn’t high priority; no one in my department wrote any citations, so in typical Janine Fourman fashion, she took matters into her own hands and installed security cameras.

I motion toward Dawdy Haus, spot one of the cameras next to the striped awning that shades the sidewalk. “If I’m not mistaken, that security camera will capture the front of the police station.”

Mona looks at me, her eyes widening. “The note.”

“Might be worth a shot.”

A few minutes later, Mona and I are in the small office at the rear of Dawdy Haus. The manager, Jenna Fourman, is Janine’s daughter. She’s about twenty-five years old and sitting at the computer, tapping keys. “Heard what happened to you last night, Chief Burkholder. This have something to do with it?”

“I’m not sure yet,” I say vaguely.

“Well, no one ever looks at these security-camera tapes,” she tells us. “I mean, except for Mom.” She gives me a knowing look. “She’s kind of fanatical about the whole parking thing.”

I’m all too aware of Janine Fourman’s petty obsessions and her heavy-handed tactics when it comes to handling something she doesn’t like. The owner of the insurance-company office next door has complained about her take-no-prisoner tactics on more than one occasion.

I opt for diplomatic. “I understand.”

The girl shoots me a grin that’s part knowing, part apologetic; then her attention snaps back to the screen. “Oh, here we go.” She presses the down-arrow key a dozen times; then her finger pauses. “This particular tape runs from six P.M. last night through six A.M. this morning.”

“That’s the time frame we’re looking for.” The last thing I want to do is sit through twelve hours of video of downtown Painters Mill overnight. “Is it possible to fast-forward through it?”

“Sure.”

The buzzer on the outer door sounds, telling us a customer has arrived. Jenna glances at the door and rises. “I gotta get that.” She motions toward the computer. “You guys can mouse through pretty quickly. Just drag that little blinking line from left to right.”

“Got it.” I motion Mona into her chair. “Thanks, Jenna.”

She grins. “Just don’t tell Mom I let you put your fingers on that keyboard.”

I grin back. “Don’t worry. I won’t.”

Mona sets to work mousing through twelve hours of video. There’s not much action in downtown Painters Mill after hours. For twenty minutes, the only movement we see comes in the form of a stray cat and Mr. Wetzel out taking his midnight walk. At the 12:45 A.M. mark, we both see the shadowed figure and lean closer to the monitor.

“It’s a woman,” Mona murmurs.

“Looks Amish,” I say, squinting because the resolution is grainy and dark. The camera angle is bad. “Any idea how to enlarge that?”

“I can try. Probably lose resolution and it’s not great to begin with.” She hits the mouse roller and sure enough the image jumps and expands.

“Run it again.”

The woman enters from the left, or south, side of the police station, walks directly up to the outer door, looks both ways, reaches into her pocket, and slaps the note onto the glass.

“Too dark to see her face,” Mona comments.

“Or make out the details of her clothes. Definitely wearing a dress, though. Average build. Not too tall. She’s sticking to the shadows.”