Read Online A Prayer for the Night by P. L. Gaus - Free Book Online Page B

propped on the back of the chair, he gazed up at the ornate, hand-hammered tin ceiling tiles and brooded. It simply had never happened before. An Amish lad murdered this way.
    Robertson sat upright, with his elbows propped on the desk. He had a pencil in his fingers, and had been drubbing the eraser impatiently against the resonant wood, trying, like Branden, to phrase the right questions. A pizza box lay open on the desk, the few remaining slices growing cold.
    “It’s not going to be a coincidence,” Robertson said, “that Spits Wallace has old blood in his kitchen and we later find an Amish kid who’s been dead a while.”
    “I don’t think Spits is smart enough to make up such a good lie about that,” Branden said. “About Abe and John being out there with English guys.”
    “He was smart enough to run us off his place,” Robertson said.
    “You going back after him?”
    “He owes us another conversation, at the least. But I’m not going back out there until I know more about these Amish kids.”
    “He’d be hard to arrest under any circumstances,” Branden observed.
    “Yeah, but if he’s not telling the truth, if he’s involved in a drug deal with John Schlabaugh, for instance, then I’ll need to coordinate with DEA before I try to take him down.”
    “And what if he is telling the truth?” Branden asked.
    “I don’t know. It’s possible,” Robertson said. “Dan would have known if Wallace’s name is on the DEA list like Schlabaugh’s is. So I’m not inclined to think Spits is involved with drugs.”
    “To me, he just doesn’t seem like the type,” Branden said. “Too much of a loner.”
    “I know. Wallace called them ‘city slickers.’” Robertson said. “That doesn’t sound like a hooked-up guy to me.”
    “No,” Branden frowned. “But you’re gonna have to devise a way to question him further without getting shot.” He rubbed a paper napkin at his beard and said, “And if he’s not involved, then it might mean that Abe and John had a falling out themselves. Argued over their drugs.”
    “And what?” Robertson asked. “Abe shot John?”
    “Not likely,” Branden conceded. “But something might have gone wrong when one or both of them hooked up with the wholesalers.”
    “And those wholesalers are the ones who grabbed up Sara Yoder?” Robertson offered.
    “Cal definitely said Sara was abducted?”
    “Yes. He was clear about that when he called. He said Miriam Yoder hadn’t translated precisely when he and Ricky talked to her and some kids. He said the boys described some strangers forcing Sara into their car.”
    “So maybe those are the same people who were out at Spits Wallace’s place with Yoder and Schlabaugh,” Branden said, and shifted to a vertical position in his chair. He tossed the wadded napkin onto the lid of the pizza box. “Maybe that’s the bunch from Columbus that Sara mentioned to Cal and me,” he said.
    “You buy the notion that Amish kids are that involved in hard drugs? More than just marijuana, I mean.”
    “Perhaps. She didn’t elaborate,” Branden said. “But she intimated that her gang of kids was into using drugs, though I can’t say which ones. Could be anything, I suppose.”
    “Then try this,” Robertson said. “Abe Yoder and John Schlabaugh were leading those ‘city slickers’ to Spits Wallace’s gold.”
    Branden shrugged, got out of his chair, and paced in front of the large windows, looking west onto Clay Street at slow traffic making the turn onto Jackson. While he was there, Ellie came into the spacious office and said, “I’m going to start a fresh pot of coffee.”
    To the right of the office door, she worked at a credenza, emptying out the old grounds into a wastebasket, and said, “Ricky’s coming in. There’s nothing yet on Sara Yoder. Cal Troyer is taking a ride with the bishop to try to get some cooperation. Ricky doubled back, trying to get more of the details from the Amish kids who saw her taken