Page 45 of An Evil Heart
“When’s the last time you saw him?”
“I told you I saw him at worship three weeks ago.”
“Where were you the morning of October second?” I ask.
“I was here.” He motions to the corn picker. “Fixed a wheel on that thing. Took me a couple days.”
“Can anyone substantiate that?”
“I reckon not. These geldings ain’t much for conversation.”
I nod. “Do you own a crossbow?”
He laughs. “Oh boy. I guess youdothink I did it.”
“I’d appreciate it if you’d just answer the question.”
“I got a compound bow. A nice one. Killed me a dozen bucks with it over the years.”
“Have you used it recently?”
“Last time I shot it was about a year ago. During the season. Got me a ten-pointer.” He looks at me and sighs. “The one thing I didn’t do was shoot Aden Karn with it.” He looks over his shoulder at the team of horses and the corn picker. “I gotta get back to work.”
I have my card at the ready. “If you think of anything else that might be important, will you get in touch with me?”
Shaking his head, he drops the card into his pocket without looking at it and walks away.
Jealousy is a powerful emotion, especially when it bears down on an immature, insecure, or violent mind. Infidelity is betrayal in its most insidious form and has been the basis for countless murders. Gideon Troyer had every reason to be angry with Karn; he had every right to be jealous. That he admitted it when asked doesn’t exclude him from suspicion. Some people believe lies are somehow more convincing when they skate that razor’s edge of truth. Usually, those are the individuals who excel at hiding the evil that lurks in the darkest corners of their heart.
The stink of hog manure hangs heavy in the air when I park in front of the Byler farm and shut down the engine. I’m midway to the door when someone calls my name. I turn to see Clara Byler striding toward me, a wire basket filled with brown chicken eggs at her side.
“Looks like your hens are good producers,” I say as I cross to her.
“They sure eat enough.” The Amish woman says the words with a smile, but I can tell by her expression she’s not pleased to see me. “Thought I’d make noodles for supper.”
“How is Emily doing?” I ask.
“Having a hard go of it.” She glances toward the house. “Funeral’s in two days. She’s just beside herself. Cries all day.” She sighs. “Bloosich.” Depressed.
“I know this is a bad time, but I need to ask her some questions.”
She tightens her mouth, doesn’t respond.
“About Gideon Troyer.”
Her gaze snaps to mine. “Oh.”
If I hadn’t been looking for a reaction, I would have missed the quicksilver wince at the mention of Troyer’s name. “You should have told me about him,” I say quietly.
She looks down at the basket of eggs.
The Amish code of silence,I think.
“You talked to Gideon?” she asks after a moment.
“About an hour ago.”
She puts her hand over her mouth. “Did he…”
