Page 77 of An Evil Heart
I reach the table. “I heard it was a good service yesterday.”
“We think so,” she says.
“A comfort to be sure.” Andy cocks his head. “You have news for us?”
“Actually, I was hoping to speak to Emily for a few minutes. Is she around?”
“She’s inside. Lying down, I think.” The Amish woman hits me with a stern look. “It’s been a trying few days to say the least. Might be best just to let her have some peace for a day or two.”
I look down at the ground, then raise my gaze to hers. “I know this is a difficult time. For all of you. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important.”
Andy starts to say something; I see the protest in his eyes, but his wife sets her hand on his shoulder and rises. “Kumma inseid.” Come inside. “I’ll take you to her.”
I follow her up the porch steps and into an overheated kitchen that smells as if it’s been cooked in all morning. Clara motions me into a chair at the table. I watch her continue into the living room and then thehall. She stops at the first door, pushes it open, and peers inside. “Chief Burkholder is here to see you,” she says inDeitsch.
A lengthy silence and then comes the whispered reply from Emily. “What does she want?”
“Just a few questions, I reckon. Says it’s important. You get yourself together and come on out now. You hear?”
Clara makes eye contact with me as she enters the kitchen. “Sis unvergleichlich hees dohin.” It’s terribly hot in here. She goes to the gas-powered refrigerator and pulls out a plastic pitcher. “I got some mint tea left over.”
“Dank,” I tell her.
The woman sets two glasses on the table, fills them with tea, and exits through the back door.
I’ve just taken my first sip when Emily enters the kitchen. She’s wearing a black dress that’s wrinkled, a black bonnet over herkapp,tights, and practical black shoes. Though she and Aden Karn weren’t yet married, she’ll likely continue to wear black for several months, while she’s in mourning. There’s an untidiness about her appearance that signals something is amiss. A few strands of hair have come loose to hang down in her face. Tights bagging at her ankles. Worse, her eyes have a hollow look that wasn’t there last time I spoke to her.
“I know this has been a terrible few days for you,” I begin. “I’ll keep it short.”
“It’s okay,” she replies in a monotone voice.
Moving as if in a trance, she goes to the cabinet next to the sink and pulls out a glass, fills it with tap water, and then brings it to the table and sits. She hasn’t noticed the tea her mother already set out. It’s as if she isn’t quite there.
For an instant, I consider delaying talking to her out of concern, but I think of where I am in terms of the case and set my sympathy aside.
“Did you find out who did it?” Emily asks after a moment.
“Still working on it.”
“How could someone do something like that?” she whispers. “I still can’t believe he’s gone. Such an awful thing. I don’t understand.”
“I don’t know.” I shrug. “Someone who’s very troubled and angry.”
She looks at the two glasses in front of her as if trying to remember why they’re there.
“Do you know of anyone who might’ve been angry with Aden?” I ask.
“There is no one.” I can tell by the way she shakes her head that she’s going to give me more of the same I’ve heard about Karn a hundred times before. “Everyone loved Aden. He was sweet. Made people laugh. He helped them when they needed it.”
I think of Christina Weaver, the scene Jimmie Baines described in the parking lot of the Brass Rail, and I feel a surge of impatience, take a moment to frame my question in a way that won’t upset her. “I’ve been talking to a lot of people who knew Aden,” I say. “Some of those people are under the impression that he had a temper.”
“That’s just crazy talk,” she says. “He hardly ever got mad. Had the patience of a saint.” Despite the certitude in her voice, her gaze skitters away from mine.
Something there,a little voice whispers.
“Did you and Aden ever get into an argument about anything?” I ask. “Or have any kind of disagreement?”
“Never.”
