Free The Hand that Rocks the Ladle by Tamar Myers Page A

younger than me, but has the nerve to speak to me like I’m a fourth- grade girl, and he’s my teacher, Miss Enz.
    “Leave me alone, Melvin. Go back to work, or better yet, go home and let your wife devour you.”
    “What’s that supposed to mean?”
    “Isn’t that what happens to male praying mantises?”
    “Very funny, Yoder.” Melvin Stoltzfus knew exactly what I meant. I know we can’t help how we look (if we could, would I look like Trigger on steroids?), but Melvin looks exactly like a five-foot eight-inch praying mantis, give or take a tentacle.
    “Just leave me alone, Melvin. I’ve had a long, hard day.”
    Melvin fumbled with a pair of handcuffs that dangled from his side. “Yoder, I have to talk to you, and you’re not making this easy.”
    “I have no intention of making it easy, Melvin, I know my rights.”
    “Then I’m afraid I’m going to have to arrest you.”
    “On what grounds?”
    “Disturbing the peace.”
    “Arrest her, arrest her,” Elspeth chanted. Much to my relief no one joined in.
    “Melvin should arrest you, dear. You’re the one who habitually beats up on your husband.”
    “Slander!” Elspeth cried. “Did everyone hear that?” One or two people nodded, but nobody said anything. There was a lot of staring going on, however, and not all of it from the crowd.
    Melvin’s eyes do not function as a pair, and he had one trained on Elspeth, the other on me. “Maybe we could find someplace here to talk,” he said.
    “I have nothing to say that I haven’t already said. Just the same, I’ll say it one more time. I did not hit Roy over the head with that shovel.”
    “It isn’t about Roy,” Melvin said, his voice barely audible. “It’s about your sister.”
    “Susannah?” What a silly way for me to respond. I only have one sister—that I know of.
    Both of Melvin’s orbs focused briefly on Elspeth. “Is there somewhere I could interview this woman? Maybe a storeroom?”
    Much to my surprise, Elspeth grinned. “The unloading door is locked now. She won’t be able to get away if I lock you in from this side.”
    “That won’t be necessary,” Melvin said, even more to my surprise.
    Elspeth frowned but led us through the throng, and eventually through a set of scuffed metal doors at the far end of the store. Just inside the storeroom she grabbed a pitchfork from a barrel and handed it to Melvin.
    “If she tries to get away, just poke.”
    “In your eye,” I said, forgetting for a moment that, as a Christian, I’m supposed to keep a civil tongue.
    “Ladies, please,” Melvin said. That was quite possibly the first time he had ever used the P word on me.
    Elspeth drew another fork from the barrel. “Don’t worry. I’ll be waiting just on the other side of those doors. She won’t get away.”
    I glared at Elspeth. “What’s with the forks and shovels? Don’t you usually ride a broom?”
    Melvin snickered. I had the feeling he disliked her almost as much as he disliked me.
    “Why I never!” Elspeth said, and stormed off, fork still in hand.
    I prayed silently for her customers on the other side of the door. I also waited until the doors had swung shut behind her before speaking, and you can be sure that when I did, it was in a whisper.
    “Now, what’s this about Susannah?”
    Melvin sat on an empty wooden crate turned sideways. He sighed dramatically.
    “Out with it,” I snapped.
    “Remember those little fried apple pies your mama used to make?”
    “Snitz turnovers? The ones with dried apples.”
    “Yeah, those are the ones. Susannah’s making them.”
    “What? She hates to cook!” I’m not sure my slothful sister knows what a stove looks like anymore. “And that’s not all. She bought a dress.”
    “A dress?” To my knowledge Susannah hasn’t worn a dress since our parents’ funeral eleven years ago. She hasn’t worn pants either since then. Don’t get me wrong. She doesn’t go around naked, like that vamp Vivian and her boy-toy. To