Karen Harper - Upon A Winter's Night

* * *

Ray-Lynn spotted Lydia Brand right away when she came into the restaurant. She seemed to be in a hurry, alone and skimming the lunch crowd for someone. Ray-Lynn handed the coffeepot to Amy, one of her Amish servers, and asked her to keep refilling cups.

“Lydia, looking for someone?” Ray-Lynn asked, thinking, since she’d come in without her father or Gid Reich, she might be meeting Josh Yoder. She’d picked up vibes between the two of them this weekend. And she really liked Lydia. Despite the fact her family was the Amish answer to the local Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous, Lydia was always down-to-earth and concerned for others, evidently even Josh Yoder’s camels.

“Actually, I was hoping to talk to you,” Lydia said. She was out of breath and flushed. “Something kind of personal—you know, private. I know it’s your busy time right now, but I need to ask you a quick question, if you’d agree to help.”

Ray-Lynn put a hand on Lydia’s caped shoulder and steered her down the narrow hall toward the restrooms and her office. “Let me get someone to cover for a few minutes, and I’ll see you in my office. Just go in. The door’s marked. And if this is your lunch hour, I’ll order both of us a sandwich and soft drink, okay?”

“Thanks, Ray-Lynn.”

At the counter, she put Martha on the front desk and ordered two roast beef sandwiches with slaw and two colas to be sent back to her office. When Ray-Lynn joined Lydia, she’d taken her cape off—the same cape she’d put over the dead woman?—but was still standing. Or had she been pacing?

“Sit and talk to me,” she told her, taking one of the two chairs in front of the desk and patting the arm of the other.

“It’s a favor,” Lydia said, perching on the edge of the chair. “I know you hear a lot of things in the restaurant, know a lot of people.”

“That, I do.”

“Would you happen to know who had the jobs at the Stark house—overseers or nurses, I don’t know—to take care of Victoria Keller?”

Ray-Lynn leaned closer to Lydia over the arm of her chair. “Until Saturday, I didn’t even catch a whiff that they had Senator Stark’s demented sister living there.”

“Oh, right. So you wouldn’t have any idea about—”

“I didn’t say that. The sheriff intends to interview both of the caregivers to learn more about Victoria’s state of mind, and he mentioned who they are—both Amish. You probably know them, though they’re older than you. Connor wasn’t too pleased about the interviews, but he had to cooperate and give their names. The woman who was on duty when Victoria sneaked out came under scrutiny, of course, for dereliction of duty.”

“Are their names law enforcement business, and I can’t find out?”

“Before I answer that, why do you want to know? I mean, the coroner just declared Victoria Keller’s death accidental this morning. He ruled that evidence indicates she caused her own demise by yanking that swinging gate open in the eight or so inches of snow and hitting her head—which I believe was a theory you gave the sheriff. So, it’s all over, Lydia. Did you just want to know more about Victoria from those who tended her? At the funeral Wednesday, I’d be glad to help you ask Senator Stark, or even Connor’s wife, about her for you.”

Lydia looked as if she were about to cry. Her lower lip trembled and she gripped her knees. Ray-Lynn covered the girl’s cold hands with her own.

“I know you’ve helped several friends of mine,” the girl whispered. “But the fact that you’re married to the sheriff and shouldn’t keep anything back from him, even if he can’t sometimes tell you everything...”

“My dear girl, you have a lot to learn about marriage. I will always be faithful and true to Jack Freeman, but that doesn’t mean I have to tell him absolutely everything I happen to hear, everything I know. Do you have some kind of information about Victoria?”

“Do you know if there’s any such thing as privileged information with the sheriff?” the young woman countered. “I mean, if I show or tell him something that could hurt my family—not about her death exactly—would he have to make it public?”

“I do know there are things the police hold back to use in interrogations or in court, so they can be sure they have the right person arrested, charged and convicted.”

Martha knocked and came in with the tray of food and drinks and set it on Ray-Lynn’s desk. They thanked her but neither of them made a move toward it or said anything else until she went out.

“It’s just,” Lydia said, her voice a shaky whisper as she dabbed at tears with her fingers, “I don’t want to hurt my parents.”

“How would it hurt your parents? Listen, Lydia, do you want to just tell me, or do you want me to call the sheriff and have him come over to hear it, too? In a way, you can trade what you know for the caretakers’ names. Unless he’s gone out in the last half hour, he’s just across the street. And if you ask him not to tell your parents, even if you’re under their roof, I’m sure he would agree. You’re considered an adult among your people, so surely you can make your own decisions.”

“Make my own decisions,” she repeated, nodding. “Ya, I intend to. And I hate doing things in secret, but sometimes it’s best.”

Ray-Lynn went for the phone on her desk. She used the speed dial to get Jack, then pushed the food tray toward Lydia.

“If he’s not there now, I’ll have to head back soon,” the girl said, stabbing her straw into her soft drink.

“Ray-Lynn, you okay?” came the familiar voice she loved.

“Just fine. Jack, Lydia Brand and I need your help. Can you drop by my office at the restaurant?”

“Right now? Something about the Keller case?”

“She’ll have to tell you, but she has to go back to the furniture store soon.”

“Sure, honey. For you and one of your little Amish friends, be right there.”

* * *

Lydia wasn’t as nervous as she thought she’d be, especially since Ray-Lynn stayed when Sheriff Freeman arrived. He sat in the chair Ray-Lynn had vacated, while she sat behind her desk. Putting his hat next to their half-eaten tray of food, he leaned his elbows on his knees but looked up toward Lydia.

“Okay, talk,” he said with a nod and small, encouraging smile she appreciated.

In a nearly breathless rush, Lydia explained what she knew—and suspected—about the note. “I’m sorry I don’t have it here,” she said. “It’s hidden under my bed at home.”

“You shouldn’t have withheld evidence,” the sheriff said, sitting up straight. “But I see why you forgot about it that night in the barn and why you didn’t want to tell me with your parents hovering. I’ll need that note.”

“Not to show it to them or the Starks?”

“The case has been closed with an accidental death ruling, but it does throw light on what the deceased might have thought she was doing or where she was going. But she has no connection to you, right?” he said, frowning, with a shake of his head.

“No. Not that I know about now. She can’t possibly be my real mother—I mean birth mother.”

“I’ll keep it in my evidence file and only mention it to Connor if something else comes up. I think they’re eager to get her buried proper and go on with their lives.”

“Danki, Sheriff. I—”

“But that’s only because I talked to one of her caregivers from the Starks’ home and got the deceased’s medical records from the place she was being treated in Cincinnati, a top-of-the-line Alzheimer’s care facility. She was mentally bad off, Lydia, just like Connor said. Victoria Keller was delusional, claiming wild things, and tried to wander off there. That note probably means zilch, so don’t get your hopes up—or down.”