English Shade by P.L. Gaus

Author:P.L. Gaus
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Amish, Mystery
Publisher: Paul L. Gaus
Published: 2020-09-13T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 20

Monday, June 8

9:50 AM

“Sweetheart,” Missy said, “you should come inside with me.”

The Robertsons were still standing out on the gravel, under a flaming morning sun, in steaming southern humidity, and the old sheriff’s face and neck were mottled with pink and gray heat patches.

“Your face is splotchy. We should have brought your hat.”

Robertson was putting his phone away. “I’m worried about Niell. I’m gonna call Del.”

“Inside, Bruce. You can call from inside the store. Or maybe later this afternoon. It’s still pretty early.”

“But this afternoon, for sure, Missy. Remind me. I need to talk with Del, about Ricky. I’m worried.”

They were standing between the Barrow’s warehouse and their Amish furniture showroom in Nokomis. Rollie Kent’s truck cab sat facing them, and thermal eddies were already rising from its metal hood and roof. Everyone else had gone into the store – everyone except the forensics technicians, who were still working the Rita Barrow murder scene. Bruce’s phone call with Sheriff Niell had concluded just as one of the lab techs had been dropping the overhead doors to seal the warehouse against the heat.

Robertson watched the slow descent of the doors, and he put an exasperated glance over to Missy. “I’m not done in there,” he gruffed.

“It’s hot, Bruce. They’re just keeping it airconditioned so they can work.”

“Ray Lee’s inside the showroom?”

“Yes. Come on. Your face is patchy.” She took his elbow and guided him toward the rear door of the showroom. “And I can see in your eyes that your focus is starting to wander.”

“Where’s a good snowstorm when you need one, Missy?”

He had taken his bandana out of his hip pocket, and he was drying his face and neck. His footfalls on the loose gravel were uncertain, and he was secretly happy that Missy had taken charge of his elbow.

Once through the door into the back of the showroom, Robertson sat on the first dinette chair that presented itself, and he waved his bandana back and forth, to air it out. “I’ve soaked through this one, Missy.” He pushed to his feet. “I’ve got another one in the Escalade.”

Missy blocked his path, eased him back onto the chair and said, “We’ll just sit here a bit.” She pulled a chair from a dining room set, and she sat down beside him. “We shouldn’t say anything about Rose Linder’s being dead.”

Bruce nodded weakly. He started again with his bandana, this time drying his arms and hands. “We need to listen, here, Missy,” he said. “Just listen. We need to hear what Barrow and Kent have to say on their own. Without any prompting. We can let Ray Lee tell them about Rose Linder later.”

“And Veronica,” Missy said. “Roni.”

“What?”

“The daughter. Veronica. We need to hear what she has to say, too.”

Thirty feet away, in the middle at the back of the showroom, Roni Barrow was seated at her dead mother’s desk. With her face buried in her palms, she was pressing a wrinkled white handkerchief to her eyes. Richard Barrow stood

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