The Silk Code - the very beginning

Part I: The Mendelian Lamp

 Chapter One   

Most people think of California, or the midwest, when they think of farm country.  I'll take Pennsylvania, and the deep greens on its red earth, any time.  Small patches of tomatoes and corn, clothes snapping brightly on a line, and a farmhouse always attached to some corner. The scale is human...

Jenna was in England for a conference, my weekend calendar was clear, so I took Mo up on a visit to Lancaster.  Over the GW Bridge, coughing down the Turnpike, over another bridge, down yet another highway stained and pitted then off on a side road where I can roll down my windows and breathe.

Mo and his wife and two girls were good people.  He was a rarity for a forensic scientist.  Maybe it was the pace of criminal science in this part of the country -- lots of the people around here were Amish, and Amish are non-violent -- or maybe it was his steady diet of those deep greens that quieted his soul.  But Mo had none of the grit, none of the cynicism, that comes to most of us who traverse the territory of the dead and the maimed.  No, Mo had an innocence, a delight, in the lights of science and people and their possibilities.

"Phil." He clapped me on the back with one hand and took my bag with another. 

"Phil, how are you?" his wife Corinne yoo-hooed from inside. 

"Hi Phil!" his elder daughter Laurie, probably 16 already, chimed in from the window, a quick splash of strawberry blond in a crystal frame.

"Hi--" I started to say, but Mo put my bag on the porch and ushered me towards his car.

"You got here early, good," he said, in that schoolboy conspiratorial whisper I'd heard him go into every time he came across some inviting new avenue of science.  ESP, UFOs, Mayan ruins in unexpected places -- these were all catnip to Mo.  But the power of quiet nature, the hidden wisdom of the farmer, this was his special domain. 

"A little present I want to pick up for Laurie," he whispered even more, though she was well out of earshot. "And something I want to show you. You too tired for a quick drive?"

"Ah, no, I'm ok--"

"Great, let's go then," he said.  "I came across some Amish techniques --  well, you'll see for yourself, you're gonna love it."

* * *

Strasburg is 15 minutes down Rt. 30 from Lancaster.  All Dairy Queens and 7-Elevens till you get there, but when you turn off and travel a half a mile in any direction you're back a hundred years or more in time.  The air itself says it all. High mixture of pollen and horse manure that smells so surprisingly good, so real, it makes your eyes tear with pleasure. You don't even mind the few flies flitting around. We turned down Northstar Road. 

"Joseph Stoltzfus's farm is down there on the right," Mo said.

I nodded.  "Beautiful." The sun looked about five minutes to setting. The sky was the color of a robin's belly against the browns and greens of the farm.  "He won't mind that we're coming here by, uh--" 

"By car?  Nah, of course not," Mo said. "The Amish have no problem with non-Amish driving.  And Joseph, as you'll see, is more open-minded than most."

I thought I could see him now, off to the right at the end of the road that had turned to dirt, grey-white head of hair and beard bending over the gnarled bark of a fruit tree.  He wore plain black overalls and a deep purple shirt.

"That Joseph?" I asked.

"I think so," Mo replied. "I'm not sure."

We pulled the car over near the tree, and got out.  A soft autumn rain suddenly started falling.

"You have business here?" The man by the tree turned to address us. His tone was far from friendly.

"Uh yes," Mo said, clearly taken aback.  "I'm sorry to intrude. Joseph -- Joseph Stoltzfus -- said it would be ok if we came by--"

"You had business with Joseph?" the man demanded again.  His eyes looked red and watery -- though that could have been from the rain.

"Well, yes," Mo said.  "But if this isn't a good time--" 

"My brother is dead," the man said.  "My name is Isaac. This is a bad time for our family."

"Dead?" Mo nearly shouted.  "I mean ... what happened?  I just saw your brother yesterday."

"We're not sure," Isaac said.  "Heart attack, maybe.  I think you should leave now.  Family are coming soon."

"Yes, yes, of course," Mo said.  He looked beyond Isaac at a barn that I noticed for the first time.  Its doors were slightly open, and weak light flickered inside. Mo took a step in the direction of the barn.  Isaac put up a restraining arm. "Please," he said.

"It's better if you go." 

"Yes, of course," Mo said again, and I led him to the car.

"You all right?" I asked when we were both in the car, and Mo had started the engine. He shook his head. 

"Couldn't be a heart attack.  Not at a time like this."

"Heart attacks don't usually ask for appointments," I said.

Mo was still shaking his head, turning back on to Northstar Road. "I think someone killed him."

* * *

More from The Silk Code (free) over here http://paullevinson.blogspot.com/2012/11/free-thursday-taste-of-silk-code.html