I thought I saw Mose blush. "I'm sure. I had my eye on that one. If Freni and I were ever to get a car, it would be one like that, I think. Not too worldly. Of course, we would paint it black."

"Of course." I peered into the trunk. It was empty. If there had been something worth the trouble to force it open, it was no longer there. The floor of the trunk was carpeted, gray of course, and, as I would have expected from Miss Brown, must have been recently vacuumed. But then, just as I was turning away, something caught my eye. Just inside the trunk, almost hidden by the curve of metal that formed the rear lip, was a single sunflower seed. Once I saw it, it was as obvious as a diamond on a coal heap.

Mose saw it too. "The Englishman. The tall, skinny Englishman. He eats seeds like that."

For some reason I felt immediately defensive of young Joel Teitlebaum. "One swallow does not a summer make," I countered. "And besides, Mose, does he seem like the type who could jimmy this open with a crowbar?"

"Freni could."

I politely rolled my eyes by turning my head away first. "Freni could do anything, Mose. She was born on a farm. I doubt if Joel could even open one of Freni's jars of pickled watermelon rinds. I think it was someone else, trying to make it look like Joel. It seems too obvious to me."

"What do you mean?" I told Mose about the fire escape door being left open, and the trail of sunflower seed sh.e.l.ls.

Mose pointed to the gravel at our feet. Well, whoever it was, they chewed tobacco too."

Then I noticed the glob of still-damp spittle containing tobacco fragments. Hernia is filled with tobacco chewers, not to mention consummate spitters of all kinds.

"It was an outsider," I said. It had to be. I couldn't imagine the Congressman, or Delbert, chawing down on a wad. And Joel was far too much of a health freak to do such a thing. Billy Dee came the closest to fitting the profile of a chaw chomper, but he was too much of a gentleman to break into anyone's car trunk. Especially a woman's.

"Maybe you should call the Chief," suggested Mose. I shook my head and practically stamped my feet.

"The Chief's off in Canada catching fish and saving his wife from going over Niagara Falls. Melvin Stoltzfus is his replacement."

"The Melvin Stoltzfus?" asked Mose incredulously.

"I'm afraid so."

"I heard that old bull he tried to milk will never be the same. He moos in falsetto now."

Old Mose didn't even have a twinkle in his eye, so clearly he believed the story. Of course I didn't. "Mose, I think we should just try and wire the trunk lid shut the best we can and say nothing. Who knows why an outsider would want to break into Miss Brown's trunk, but Melvin sure isn't going to know either. So why borrow trouble, right?"

"Melvin is trouble. I'll see if I can tie down the trunk. But, Magdalena, I need to ask you a question."

"Ask away, Mose."

"Can Freni have her job back? You know how she is when she's not working."

"Can it be any worse than when she is working?" I tried to laugh pleasantly. "Okay, I suppose so, Mose."

His face lit up. "You aren't too mad at Freni, Magdalena?"

"Of course I'm mad, but I'll get over it. I always do."

"Good. You are like the daughter she never had. She is very fond of you, Magdalena. She doesn't really mean what she says. She just has trouble with her temper."

"Like me?"

He flushed. "I didn't say that."

I looked over at the field where Matilda and Bertha were peacefully grazing. "Tell her she's welcome back anytime. All she has to do is apologize."

Mose shook his head ruefully and headed silently for the barn. We both knew it would be a sweet-smelling day in the henhouse before Freni Hostetler said "sorry" to me.

I had just put away the last of the groceries when the first of the guests returned. The first one I saw, anyway, was Billy Dee, who came bounding into the kitchen in search of something cold to drink. Having been in the woods definitely seemed to agree with him. "I take it their protest was not successful then?" I asked, as I handed him a gla.s.s of Bertha's milk. Or was it the shy Matilda's?

"Heck no, Miss Yoder. We didn't see hide nor hair of them folks the whole day."

"Which, of course, was none of your doing."

"Exactly. It weren't my fault we got lost twice on our way to the game lands, even if I was leading the way, and it certainly weren't my fault we parked on the opposite side of the ridge from the Congressman. And when we did go into the woods for just a bit, someone took a potshot at Jeanette." He laughed heartily. "That really weren't my fault."

"Someone shot at Jeanette?"

He was still laughing. "Maybe it was a bear hunter! She sure don't look like a deer to me!"

"Mr. Grizzle! You of all people!"

Billy Dee sobered immediately. "You're right. I should be the last one to find this funny. I guess it's just my nerves working themselves off. Coming up here ain't no picnic for me. It's just something I had to do."

"Was Jeanette hurt?" It wouldn't be so bad if she got hurt just a little bit, would it? Nothing serious, mind you, but just enough to send her packing.

"Hurt? Nah, she was gabbing so loud she didn't even know she was shot at. Not till I pointed it out. Bullet came whistling right past her head and hit an old stump nearby. I dug it out." He reached into his pocket and produced a shiny lump of metal. "Funny thing is, this ain't no rifle bullet. This is from a revolver. A Smith & Wesson .44 Magnum, if you ask me."

"You mean to say that someone tried to kill her? That it wasn't a stray hunter's bullet?"

He nodded. "Course, I didn't tell her that. I just said there was some blind fool of a hunter in the vicinity and the wisest thing was for us to get back to the car."

"And?"

He sighed. "And she agreed, after she'd made a few comments that I'd just as soon not remember. That woman has all the sensitivity of a brood sow in heat. Oops. No offense, Miss Yoder."

"No offense taken. Drink your milk," I ordered. "It's the best thing there is for nerves. Say, you wouldn't happen to cook, would you?"

He smiled gratefully. "I make a mean venison stew. Why?"

I crossed my fingers under the kitchen table. 'Well, tonight's Monday night, of course, and that's our traditional night for potluck suppers. You see, everyone at the table has to make their own favorite dish to share. Of course, you wouldn't be making venison stew because we don't have any, but "

"But I do."

What?"

He smiled broadly, like the old Billy Dee Grizzle. The milk must have taken its effect. "That ain't no problem at all. Got me an eight-pointer tied to the roof of my car right now."

"You what? I thought you gave up hunting."

Well, now, I didn't shoot it. I picked this one up alongside the road. With all that shooting going on, them deer crowd the road for safety, and every now and then one of them gets just a little too close. Like this one done."

I nearly gagged. "You mean you want to make a road-kill stew right here in my kitchen?"

Billy Dee looked almost hurt. "This here ain't no run-of-the-mill road-kill, Miss Yoder. There's hardly a scratch on it, and besides, it was as warm and red as a fresh-baked cherry pie when I picked it up."

"Thank you. Cherry pie will never be the same again.

"What?"

"Nothing. Did anybody else see you pick up the deer?"

"Not a soul. I was the last car to leave, and by the time I pulled up here, they'd all gone in."

Call me daring or just plain foolish, but I'd already survived two whizzing bullets and was feeling surprisingly adventuresome. "Quickly, pull your car around the back side of the barn. I'll go open the main door. You skin and gut it in there."

The look on Billy Dee's face was priceless. "Don't that take all!"

"Of course, you'll do a good job of cleaning up in there when you're done, and you won't breathe a word of this to anyone?"

"I swear! I mean, yes, ma'am!"

By the time I'd squared Billy Dee away in the barn, and watched him at work for a while, the Congressman and his aide had returned. One by one, I cornered the guests and gave them my spiel about it being potluck night, and, much to my great surprise, one by one they volunteered dishes. Even Jeanette was cheerful and cooperative, which only goes to show you that a near miss by a bullet can do wonders for one's morale.

The Congressman volunteered to make Senate Bean Soup, but since he didn't have time to soak the beans, he settled on a doctored-up version of canned baked beans.

Lydia said she knew a wonderful recipe for vegetable curry she was sure everyone would like.

"But I don't have curry powder," I explained. "The Amish aren't big on exotic Oriental dishes."

"Well, do you have cinnamon, nutmeg, ginger, coriander, c.u.min, garlic, and chili?"

"Everything but c.u.min."

"Then I can make my own curry. A c.u.min-less curry unfortunately, but still a curry."

Happily, I found the spices for her. You have to admire a woman who knows how to make her own curry powder, that's for sure.

Joel, bless his heart, was as flexible as a willow twig in April. Before I'd even told him about the produce haul, he was all set to make something.

"You do have potatoes?" It was more of a statement than a question.

"Of course!"

"Applesauce?"

"Organic to the core."

"And sour cream, for those who want it?"

"That would be Matilda's. She's the nervous one."

I beg your pardon?"

"Never mind. What are you making?"

"Latkes. Jewish potato pancakes. After all, in just six more weeks it will be Chanukah."

"Bless you."

"That will be my main dish contribution. Then for dessert, I'd like to make my famous broiled bananas."

"Double bless you."

Linda wasn't quite as cooperative as I'd expected, at least not until I'd mentioned that Sam had sold me some six different varieties of leafy green things with foreign-sounding names.

"There's a Belgian something, a Swiss something, a Roman something or was that Romanian?"

'Well, I might put together a nice fresh salad," she conceded.

I decided not to clarify the fresh part. "Great! And I have lots of dressing in the fridge."

Linda looked like I must have when Billy Dee mentioned his road-kill. "You mean commercial, bottled dressings?"

"Yeah. Brand names even."

"Hmm. I do have an hour of hatha-yoga this afternoon, and Ms. Parker did want me to do some channeling before dinner. Perhaps I have just enough time to make up a bottle of natural dressing. Without preservatives in it. You wouldn't happen to have organic dandelion vinegar and fresh tarragon, would you?"

"I think there's some dandelion vinegar in the cellar," I said. "On a shelf, way in the back comer. There's a flashlight by the cellar door you can use."

Sometimes when I'm nasty like that, I wonder if I'm adopted. Neither Mama nor Papa would have, for even a second, considered sending an arachnophobiac down into a cellar swarming with spiders. But so help me, some people deserve what they get.

Jeanette had already volunteered to make a vegetarian stir-fried dish, providing, of course, I could come up with some fresh, crisp vegetables. With my fingers crossed, I a.s.sured her I had.

That left only Delbert, Susannah, and me. I, however, didn't plan to make anything, because I would have more than my hands full supervising everybody else in my kitchen. Besides which, I'd already cooked breakfast, packed lunches, washed dishes, been shot at, shopped, matched wits with a witless lawman, shoveled offal, and watched Billy Dee butcher a battered buck.

There's only so much a body can do in one day. Fortunately, Joel had volunteered to make two dishes, so mine wouldn't even be missed.

Delbert James, as it turned out, was just as generous. He graciously offered to cook two dishes as well, but I reluctantly turned him down. While I knew I would love his macaroni and ground-beef ca.s.serole, I wasn't too sure I could handle the tripe and suet pudding he proposed, even though he offered to go into town himself to pick up the ingredients. Delbert James, I was forced to conclude, had humbler origins than one might normally expect of a Congressman's aide.

As for Susannah, her concept of nutrition is taken straight from the Freni Hostetler School of Cooking. If it tastes good, eat it. Unfortunately, her boiled cookies were the only thing n.o.body got to sample that night.

15.

SUSANNAH YODER ENTWHISTLE'S BOILED COOKIE RECIPE 2 cups sugar