Plain Killing Read Online Free PDF Page A

said.
    “I’m sure my mam knows by now. Lettie would tell her.”
    Mary Aaron gazed out. “And you think Elsie won’t tell our mother?”
    Rachel grimaced. “We’ll have to hurry if we’re going to get the word to Beth’s family before the Amish telegraph does.”
    It was an undisputed certainty of life in Stone Mill. None of the Plain people had house phones, and few owned cells, which were used strictly for making business calls and were kept in the barns. But news of any kind that affected them spread fast. By nightfall, Amish living as far away as the west end of the valley would know that Beth’s body had been discovered.

    The Chupp home was a white, nineteenth-century frame farmhouse dwarfed by the huge stone barn across the single-lane gravel road and framed by a garden and an orchard on either side of the dwelling. A stone supporting wall ran along the front yard, which was higher than the roadway by at least six feet. Pots of black-eyed Susans and daylilies spilled a riot of color over the wall from the lawn, and neat flower beds and grapevines added to the charm of the small house. Stone steps led up from the mailbox, and at the base of the steps stood a deep concrete water trough. Spring water ran from a pipe in the wall, and a ledge above the trough gave locals a place to set and fill their jugs. The water ran into the trough, which overflowed into a narrow stream below.
    As Rachel pulled the van into the parking area, a pickup truck with West Virginia plates was just pulling out. The woman sitting beside the driver waved, and Rachel waved back. “Tourists,” Rachel said. “Let’s hope they stop in Stone Mill and buy something.”
    Rachel and Mary Aaron got out, climbed the steps and approached the front door. Rachel was about to knock when Naamah Chupp came around the corner of the house with a basket of fresh-cut flowers.
    “Rachel! Mary Aaron!” White teeth flashed as Naamah’s round face creased into a merry smile. “So good to see you!” she cried, her double chin bobbing.
    The bishop’s wife was a good fifteen years younger than he was, but topped him in both height and weight. She wore a russet-brown dress with elbow-length sleeves, a full black apron, and a slightly askew white kapp . Naamah’s hair was walnut brown with a sprinkling of gray. She spoke to them in the Deitsch dialect. “You must come in. I made a fresh pot of coffee not an hour ago, and streuselkuchen .” She beamed. “So good of you to stop by.”
    Mary Aaron took a deep breath and dropped her gaze to the ground. “We need to see Bishop Abner,” she said. “Something. . .”
    “Bad,” Rachel supplied. “Bad news.”
    “Not your mother, Mary Aaron? That sugar of hers. I told her. Listen to the Englisher doctor. Vitamins are good, but you must watch your diet and take the pills.”
    “Ne,” Mary Aaron said, shaking her head. “ Mam is fine. It’s someone else. A sudden death in the community.”
    “In another church district,” Rachel said. “But we need to consult Bishop Abner.”
    Naamah clapped a hand over her mouth. “God have mercy. Not a child, I hope.”
    Rachel shook her head. “A young woman. Beth Glick.”
    “Beth, you say? The Beth who ran away? The girl they put the ban on? Ach. ” Naamah’s dark-brown eyes widened and then grew moist. “So dangerous, the English world. Not for us. Poor girl. And her poor mother. To lose a child is terrible.”
    Rachel nodded. It was no secret that the bishop and his wife longed for a baby. This was his second marriage; his first wife had passed away, but they’d not been blessed either. Now, after ten years of marriage, Naamah would soon be past the age of giving birth. For Amish women, whose lives centered on family, being childless was a great heartbreak. Naamah, however, always cheerful, seemed to have filled her life with flowers and other people’s children.
    “Abner is in his workshop,” she said, pointing to the barn. “Sharpening saws, I