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asked.
    “Rachel, Wanda probably had a heart attack. I’m sure that’s what the coroner will say.” My eyes flicked to the sheriff. “But I don’t think you should say much more.”
    Mitchell dropped the pie back on the table.
    My Amish friend’s smooth brow wrinkled. “Why not, Angie?” She took a breath. “Wanda and I had had a small disagreement. I hope it didn’t make her so upset that she had a heart attack because of it. She was upset when she left, but I wouldn’t think enough to cause such a trauma.”
    I inwardly groaned. There was no way I would be able to stop this runaway train.
    “Over what?” Mitchell asked.
    Rachel’s eye flitted to me. Did she finally realize she shouldn’t be volunteering all this information to Mitchell? Now retired, my father had done hundreds of high-powered negotiations over the course of his career as an executive. One of his trade secrets he told me was “Don’t offer more information than is asked.” I wished Rachel had learned that lesson. She might learn it the hard way.
    “She wanted me to talk to my husband on her behalf. I told her that I couldn’t do that.”
    “What did she want you to talk to him about?”
    Rachel began to shake. “You don’t think our argument caused her to fall ill, do you?”
    I stepped around the table and put my arm around her. “Sheriff, can’t you see she’s upset?”
    “Please, answer the question, Rachel,” he said with a softer tone.
    Rachel gripped my hand. “Aaron bought property on Sugartree Street and wanted to build a pie factory there. Wanda thought it was a bad idea.”
    The sheriff’s face remained neutral. “Did she plan to do anything about it?”
    “She said she’d stop it.”
    I could almost see the glowing lightbulb shining above Mitchell’s head. Bing! Motive! I felt sick to my stomach. Rachel Miller was the last person on the planet who would hurt anyone. I stared the sheriff straight in the eye. “Does Rachel need a lawyer?”
    He frowned. “Why would you ask that?”
    “I’m just trying to be proactive, Sheriff. Just like you are being proactive about Wanda’s death when you don’t know it’s anything more than a heart attack or stroke.”
    “Please return to your table. I would like to talk to Rachel alone.”
    “Fat chance,” I snapped.
    Mitchell frowned. “My questions are merely a precaution while I wait to talk to the coroner, but I still need to ask them.”
    Rachel gripped the side of her apron. “It is okay, Angie. I will be able to see you across the way there.”
    I frowned but did as I was asked. As soon as I walked to my table, Mattie was beside me, “What’s going on? A paramedic passed by the tent.”
    “Wanda Hunt is dead, and I think the sheriff thinks Rachel had something to do with it.”
    “What? How—”
    I didn’t wait to hear what she was going to ask next because I saw Aaron, Rachel’s husband, coming toward the merchants’ tent at a fast, purposeful gait.
    Aaron didn’t even glance at Mattie. He went straight to his wife’s side. Mattie and I followed him across the aisle.
    Aaron put a hand on Rachel’s arm, but the couple did not embrace. It was not the Amish way to show public displays of affection. “What is going on here?”
    Rachel shook her head, unable to speak.
    Aaron turned to me. “What has happened? I was told someone died near the merchants’ tent. I’m happy to see you are all safe.” He included his sister in his announcement.
    “It’s Wanda Hunt,” I said.
    Aaron’s jaw twitched. “What has that
Englisch
woman done now?”
    “She’s dead, Aaron.” I lowered my voice. “The sheriff has been talking to Rachel about it.”
    Aaron jerked back as if I slapped him in the face. “What would she know about Wanda?”
    “She was holding one of the bakery’s fry pies when she died,” Mitchell said.
    Aaron dropped his hand from his wife’s arm. “That means nothing.”
    “There is the disagreement that you are having with the