Death of a Solitude Elk

By Saundra McKee

A young handsome but slightly quirky Amish man disappears while searching the woods around Solitude, PA for valuable ginseng roots in late September. The discovery of his horribly mutilated body raises many questions with the authorities and local sleuths, Fannie, Dana and Sharon. The investigation is personal for Fannie whose granddaughter Emma was to have married Jacob Troyer in November. The plot takes many twists and turns as the three women defy the authorities and seek justice for Jacob and his loved ones. This is the 26th in the Amish Country Murder Mystery Series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Saundra McKee
• Release date: Nov 23, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311225344

Saundra McKee

I am a retired educator. I taught in the public schools for 15 years and at the university level for 22 years. I love to travel the world. I enjoy politics, dogs, mysteries and water sports. I am a lay speaker in the United Methodist Church.

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Death of a Solitude Elk by Saundra McKee

Smashwords Edition. Copyright 2014. Saundra McKee

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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All characters and events in this story are fictional. Any resemblance to anyone living or dead is purely coincidental. While some of the places mentioned actually exist, they are used in an entirely fictional manner.

Time: Late September, present day

Place: Solitude, a rural community with several neighboring Amish districts in western Pennsylvania

Chapter 1

It was one of those picture perfect days in early fall. The sky was as blue as my handsome husband’s deep set eyes. The leaves were starting to display a myriad of cheerful hues, and I was out doing good works with my two best friends, Fannie and Sharon. I’d known both of these smart and strong willed women since my childhood. We’d seen each other through some of the best and worst that life has to offer. Currently we were all in a good place and were old enough to appreciate the rarity of it.

We were dressed in some of our oldest and shabbiest clothes since we were preparing to apply a skid proof coating to a wooden ramp, just one of many that my husband Larry and other men from my Methodist Church had constructed to allow people with infirmities to get in and out of their homes. For Fannie, a member of the Old Order Amish, that meant one of her more faded green dresses, starched and pressed and held skillfully together with straight pins and her scuffed black boots usually reserved for cleaning out her horse’s stall. For Sharon, the blonde and botoxed former homecoming queen and successful local businesswoman, dressing down meant designer jeans, Doc Marten shoes, a silk turtleneck sans her usual bling. For me, it meant faded comfort fit Levis and a paint stained sweatshirt asserting If You’re Happy and You Know It, You’re Retired.

The ramp was attached to the double wide that was the residence of the ninety year old mother of another childhood friend Ralphie. Located in a rural patch of poverty close to the picturesque hamlet of Solitude, the structure was dismal despite Mildred’s and her two son’s efforts to plant flowers and apply regular coats of paint. Mildred was now, due to a couple of falls and unsuccessful surgeries, wheelchair bound. Her son Clair, who managed a local campground in the summer and tended bar year round was separated from his wife and living with and helping his mother. Our friend and her other son Ralphie had been forced to live in a wheelchair since returning from Vietnam decades earlier. He now worked as a custodian at the Methodist Church and was one of the founders of our Ramps of Hope project. The three of us looked up as he pulled up with Mocha Moolattes from the local Dairy Queen. The creamy cold delights were only one dollar each on Mondays, and we rarely passed up the bargain.

As I retrieved the drinks from his specially equipped van, Sharon and Fannie brought Mildred out onto the deck and set up chairs.

After those first sweet cool sips and ahs and ohs about the intoxicating flavor of the drinks and the perfect weather, Ralphie interjected some words that would soon deflate our buoyant moods. There are state police cars all over town. They’re organizing a search for a young guy who has been missing for over twenty four hours. I think his name’s Jacob Troyer. Someone said that he and his brother do a lot of roofing around the area. They also build and sell that colorful polywood furniture.

We all recognized the surname as Amish and soon noted the anguish in Fannie’s eyes. Really? I haven’t heard anything about it. Jacob and my granddaughter Emma are getting married in November. She continued but we were all familiar with Emma, a clerk at the local quilt shop with a perfect complexion, mischievous green eyes and a smile that had drawn suitors from well beyond our own Amish community. She’s our son John and Elizabeth’s youngest. Knowing Jacob, he just got caught up in something and will find his way home soon.

I hope you’re right, sighed Sharon, but I’m surprised that they’ve called the police in if this boy is someone who has a history of wandering off.

Fannie smiled. "Jacob is his mother’s favorite and