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The group quickly dispersed as Agatha stood and began clearing off the dishes. She didn’t seem as agitated as Tony was afraid she might be. Instead, he’d have to peg her emotions as resigned. But what did he know? A week ago he couldn’t have picked her out from a line up.
“Sorry I ruined your dinner party.” Tony took the stack of plates from her and carried them into the kitchen.
“I certainly wasn’t expecting such a direct confrontation.”
“It’s about time if you ask me.” Gina was already filling the sink with scalding water and detergent. She’d donned yellow rubber gloves that reached to her elbows, and when she turned to Tony, she held them up like a surgeon might before picking up a scalpel. “We don’t have long to find the killer before this group scatters to the wind. Next week we have a wedding party here.”
“So you approve of my methods?” Tony tried not to smile at the intense scowl on Gina’s face.
“Not only do I agree with them, I think they’re long overdue. Best to get everything out in the open.”
Agatha tried to shoo him out of the kitchen, but Tony found the cleaning and drying and putting up relaxing. He’d always done some of his best thinking while helping Camilla in the kitchen.
And there it was again, the hole in his life that wouldn’t seem to close. He could see his home from the kitchen window, and it looked as empty and forlorn as he sometimes felt.
He shook away the foreboding thoughts and walked outside with Agatha. Gina said goodnight, reminding them to call her, “if there’s a break in the case.”
“I have a feeling Gina spends a lot of time watching murder mysteries on television.”
“Oh ya, she has the lingo down.”
Tony thought perhaps he should leave, but Agatha seemed in no hurry to turn in, and a beautiful Texas sunset was just beginning. So instead he followed her around the side of the house to take in the coolness of the evening. They’d barely settled into two of the porch rockers when Henry Glick and Joseph Beiler walked up the steps. Both men looked to be in their sixties and had beards reaching to their chest—though Henry’s was salt and pepper whereas Joseph’s was solid white.
At Agatha’s insistence, the men settled in two chairs across from them, though neither looked particularly at ease.
“We’re here to apologize. We certainly didn’t wish to make this entire situation more difficult than it already is.” Henry pulled a piece of lemon candy from his pocket, unwrapped it, and popped it into his mouth. “You have a beautiful place here, Agatha, but to say this trip has been a disappointment would be an understatement.”
“I’m so sorry for what you’ve gone through. It can’t be easy.”
“No burden so great as that which is self-made.” Joseph held up his hand when Agatha started to protest. “We don’t mind taking responsibility for the mess we willingly walked into. Dixon was a smooth talker, for sure and certain, he was. But we practically danced into his trap. No one forced us to invest in his supposed business.”
“You know what they say when something sounds too good to be true.” Henry sat back, running his hand over the arm of the chair. “Now it’s time to make amends and pick up the pieces of our lives. You’ve created a lovely place to rest and refocus. Under different circumstances, it would have been a very pleasant vacation.”
“Danki.”
“I believe next time I’ll stick to fishing.” Henry pantomimed throwing a line into the water. “This little area could become as popular as Sarasota if you don’t watch out. You could be overrun with Amish.”
“I wouldn’t mind that one bit.”
Tony sat back and listened to the banter. His Spidey-sense was telling him Henry and Joseph had more reasons for stopping by than to thank Agatha.
Joseph slipped his thumbs under his suspenders. “We thought perhaps we should start at the beginning, give you a little background on Dixon, in the hopes it will help you to solve this thing.”
Pulling his pad of paper and pen from his pocket, Tony motioned for them to continue. In the fading light of a June sunset, he wrote down the salient points.
Dixon had put an advertisement in the Shipshewana paper.
He held a meeting at the local diner, in a back room.
There he showed them graphs and a flashy presentation.
It was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
Half a dozen families bought in, but a year later, they’d still heard nothing regarding their investment. Finally, Henry Glick, Joseph Beiler, and James Fisher tracked the man down and insisted on a meeting. Dixon admitted he’d be at Agatha’s place the following week.
“I wondered why so many reservations came in all at once, and a week before.” Agatha’s stared out at the Texas sunset. Finally she turned her attention back to the situation at hand. “I was happy to have a full inn—happy but surprised. Most people plan vacations further out than that.”
“Wait a minute.” Tony turned toward her. “How many of the people here reserved at the last minute?”
“My Amish guests and the Coopers and Mr. Dixon. Why? Is that important?”
“It might be.” Tony motioned for the two men across from him to continue.
Henry nodded occasionally to confirm a point that Joseph made, but he didn’t interrupt.
“Seemed like Gotte’s hand, ya?” Joseph pulled at the collar of his shirt. “An Amish Bed-and-Breakfast in the middle of Texas, where Dixon already planned to be?”
Tony wasn’t ready to assign that coincidence to providence. More likely, it had been part of Dixon’s plan. But the man couldn’t have suspected what a deadly turn the week would take or he would have implemented more precautions. So what had gone wrong?
Henry finally jumped into the conversation. “We tried to talk to him when we first arrived. He brushed us off. Then early Wednesday morning—well before sunrise, I heard him arguing with the Cox brothers.”
Tony exchanged a look with Agatha. He’d doubted Jasmine’s story about Dixon’s confrontation with Mason and Paxton, but apparently she’d been telling the truth.
“Any idea what the argument was about?” Agatha asked.
“Not really. I was out walking along the river because, well, I guess because I was used to rising at that hour. I heard Dixon say they should mind their own business or there would be trouble.”
“Do you think Paxton and Mason had invested in Dixon’s scam?”
James looked to Henry and both men shook their heads.
“Not likely,” Henry said. “I don’t think those Cox boys have two nickels to rub together. The truck they’re driving looks worse than my last buggy, which I had for twenty years. Nein. I’m not sure why—or how—they happen to be here, but I don’t see how they could have been investors.”
Their story told, they both stood.
“Again, we’d like to offer our apologies for our dishonesty early, and we certainly never meant to be rude in any way.” Joseph stood straighter—shoulders back and head higher—as if he’d set down a heavy burden.
“Neither of you showed any rudeness to me.” Agatha’s words were soft and without accusation. It was obvious to Tony that their confessions only increased her sympathy for the two men.
Tony tucked his notepad and pen back into his pocket. “And if you were rude to me, I probably deserved it. Unfortunately, asking unwelcome questions is part of an investigation.”
“You were only doing your job.” Henry crossed his arms. “We should not have made that harder.”
“Actually, I wasn’t. As Jasmine pointed out, I’m no longer a detective.”
Henry paused a moment, considered that, and then a smile played across his lips. “Yet a job is so much more than what you’re paid to do at any given time. My job, since I was a youngie, has been to farm and to provide for my family. It still is my job, though these old hands no longer work a plow, and though I’ve lost much of what I’d saved for my family due to foolishness.”
He stuffed his hands into his pockets. “That is something I will wrestle with, but I will get through it. Gotte doesn’t lead us to trouble, but He certainly leads us through it.”
“You speak the truth, Henry.” Agatha rocked in her chair, her head bobbing up and down. “I’ve always been a homemaker. Whether it’s for my family or for strangers makes little difference.”
“And you, Mr. Vargas. Your job is to find the truth and to bring those who have strayed to justice.” Joseph reached forward and clapped Tony on the shoulder. Somehow, that simple touch seemed like a blessing. “Yours is a higher calling, and it’s likely not one that you left behind the day you retired.”
Tony watched the two men walk away.
He had the distinct feeling that the pieces of the puzzle were now all on the table. The problem was, he couldn’t for the life of him figure out how to put them properly together.