Page 89 of A Gathering of Secrets

“I appreciate that.”

The aromas of jasmine and peppermint and fresh-brewed coffee greet me as we clamber inside. Ina locks the door behind us.

“Is Neva here yet?” I ask.

“She always gets here early to make coffee,” Viola tells me.

“She drives a car, so the drive doesn’t take her quite as long,” Ina says with a hint of petulance.

“I heard that.”

The three of us look ahead to see Neva standing next to the customer service counter, hands on her hips, staring at us. She’s wearing a dusty pink dress with her Beachy kapp and a pair of Keds that are a little too stylish for most Amish. She makes eye contact with me. “Is everything all right, Chief Burkholder?”

“Everything’s fine,” I tell her. “I just need to speak with the three of you if you can spare a few minutes.”

Ina looks at me and nods. “We don’t open until nine, so we have some time.”

“Coffee’s made,” Neva says. “Would you like to sit?”

Viola hefts the tray of pastries. “We could sample these cranberry-orange scones.”

“Sampling pastries is not a hardship,” Ina says. “I’m starved.”

Neva motions toward the café. “As long as we don’t make a mess.”

“Famous last words,” Ina mutters.

A few minutes later, the four of us are seated in the café. It’s a small area with a smattering of tables, an antique sofa table that’s been transformed into a coffee station, and a buffet where Viola has arranged scones on paper doilies.

I pull the key from the plastic bag and slide it over to the center of the table. “Can any of you tell me if this duplicate key was made here at The Mercantile?”

The three girls stare at the key.

“I don’t know if there’s any way to tell.” Neva starts to reach for the key, but hesitates. “Can I look?”

“Sure.”

She picks it up, turns it over in her hand, and glances at Ina. “Is this one of ours?”

Ina shakes her head. “I don’t even know how to run the machine.”

Viola leans close for a better look. “I told Mrs. Lambright I want to learn how to make the keys. She promised to show me, but she hasn’t yet.”

“Probably need to check with Mamm on that,” Neva tells me.

“I will.” I take the key and drop it into the bag.

I look from face to face. “You heard about Ruth Petersheim?” I ask.

Neva drops her gaze to the tabletop and nods. The other two don’t meet my gaze.

“We heard,” Ina mumbles.

“Mrs. Fisher came in late yesterday and told Mamm,” Neva says. “Poor Ruthie.”

“I heard little William is going to live with his grossmudder,” Viola says, referring to the baby’s grandmother.

“Ruth’s grossmudder,” Neva says.