Batter Off Dead Read Free Page A

they scattered to the far corners of the fellowship hall—well, except for the blessed Karen Imhoff and the stubborn Amygdaline Schrock. At any rate, that left only the four of us, and since I was the wealthiest and, some say, the orneriest, I decided to give my own challenge a try. Alas, whether by intention or not, I failed miserably; all that matters is that the brotherhood had a thousand more clams in their coffers when I was through addressing the Almighty to mark the occasion of Minerva J. Jay’s passing.
     
     
    Hernia’s only law enforcement officer arrived just seconds after my resounding amen , and I immediately filled him in. Police Chief Chris Ackerman is only in his midtwenties and so good-looking that women have been known to commit minor crimes just so they could have the pleasure of being thrown into his jail overnight. Jaywalking, loitering, even solicitation citations initially went through the roof. Gradually, however, as the people of Hernia learned that the Good Lord, in His wisdom, had chosen Chris to bat for the other team, this much-needed source of income dried up.
    Once, believe it or not, in more prosperous times, we had a two-person police department, and on occasion even that was not enough. At first glance Hernia may not seem like a den of iniquity, but the Devil is just as hard at work here as he is anywhere else. Thank heaven, then, that murder follows me around like odor follows a troop of prepubescent boys, because over the years it has allowed me to become well steeped in the workings of the criminal mind. I say this without hubris. Indeed, I get very little credit—certainly no monetary reward—for solving the brutal deaths of others, and I am often subjected to great danger.
    Why, then, one might legitimately ask, do I involve myself in such a dangerous pastime? Do I experience the same satisfaction one might feel if they’ve taken on the task of solving a particularly complicated puzzle? Absolutely not; the solutions to some murders are absurdly simple. Do I feel especially brave when I’m confronting a killer who has a gun digging into my well-formed ribs? Frankly, with my shapely knees knocking so hard, it’s difficult to tell. Once I even soiled—uh, well, never you mind. But I will confess that another time I foiled a madman by jumping down into the pit of our six-seater outhouse.
    “Miss Yoder!” Young Chris shook me with a good deal of force. “Miss Yoder, you’re not going to faint again, are you?”
    When you wake up and smell the coffee, you can only hope it’s something better than what we serve at Beechy Grove Mennonite Church. “I’m as fine as frog hair, dear. I was lost in thought; it’s still pretty much virgin territory.”
    “I was saying that we should go back to my office and talk.”
    “Talk? About what? I told you everything.”
    “Yes, but that was off the record, and in the presence of Miss Schrock.”
    “Why, I never!” Amygdaline was panting with rage. “Listen here, young man, I pay your salary, just as much as Magdalena does, so I have the same right to be privy to this conversation as does she.”
    “But you don’t,” I said.
    “I beg your pardon?”
    “Amygdarling, this is just a guesstimate, mind you, but I’m pretty sure that I pay at least ten times more in taxes than you do, which is neither here nor there, since I am Chief Ackerman’s boss, as well as his sidekick, although at this stage of the game, I’m not the one doing most of the kicking.”
    “Chief! Did you hear what Magdalena called me?”
    No doubt Chris’s laugh was an attempt to smooth things over. “Amyg darling ?”
    “But I’m not her darling! The woman gives me the creeps. She’s a self-admitted adulteress, you know.”
    “Inadvertent,” I hissed.
    “Hey, no fair; you can’t hiss without an S .”
    “So?”
    The chief of police grabbed my arm and steered me up the front steps, into the foyer, and then out to his cruiser. “Hernia is nothing like