Granny Smith Is Dead

by Chelsea Thomas

  “I was thinking the same thing,” Miss May said. “But I’m sure you have an angle.”

  “I’ve got more than an angle. I’ve got the beginnings of a scandal that will rock Pine Grove to its cozy little core.”

  Miss May raised her eyebrows. “Go on...”

  Liz whispered. “OK. So you know how Murphy’s has four designated spaces out front for bar patrons?” We all shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. They do. Anyway, Murphy’s guests often use all six spaces in the lot.”

  “But what can Murphy’s do to stop that?” I asked. “What’s the scandal?”

  “That’s the scandal,” Liz said. “Murphy’s couldn’t stop the illicit parking. People have free will, I know that. But the problem is... Murphy’s is actually encouraging it. I have it on good information that Jim and Jenna Murphy have told their patrons to park in any spot they like. For as long as they like. And that China Palace customers can park on the street if they want their chow mein so bad.”

  Teeny gasped. “That is a scandal.”

  Liz smiled. “Can I quote you on that?”

  “Sure,” Teeny said. “I’m always good for a spicy quote.”

  Liz jotted a note in her reporter’s notebook. “The piece should drop in the Gazette later this week. I expect it to go national as the story progresses. What do you guys think of this is the headline? ‘Scandal on Chow Mein Street: Parking Lot Wars, Part One. Murphy’s versus the People of Pine Grove versus China Palace.”

  Miss May nodded. “Sounds ambitious.”

  “What’s part two?” I asked.

  Liz smirked. “Follow me on social media to find out. I’m branching out into video journalism. I have over 600 followers and from what I can tell most of them are not Russian robots. Or they are very convincing robots, in which case I’ll do a story about them.”

  I nodded. “OK. Cool.”

  “Barry!” Liz craned her neck around the side of the building.

  Barry shuffled back toward her, stamping out his cigarette.

  “Come on. We’re going to finish the piece. I’m taking you with me to the top.”

  Barry shrugged and picked up his camera.

  Liz turned back to us. “OK, nice to see you. Can you guys go inside? You’re blocking my light.”

  Another cheer erupted from inside.

  Miss May looked over at me and Teeny. “You two ready?”

  Miss May held the door open and Teeny and I entered.

  Liz called out to us before we disappeared inside. “Little advice?”

  We turned back.

  Liz stared us down. “Root for Ireland.”

  ——

  A few seconds later, we entered the bar to find a couple hundred Irish-Americans with their eyes glued to a big screen TV mounted on the wall. The energy was electric. Everyone was wearing Ireland’s green and white jersey. And everyone screamed at the top of their Irish lungs. Except for an old man, who had passed out with his face on the bar.

  The scene delighted me, and from the look on Teeny’s face it delighted her too.

  She pumped her fist above her head. “Yeah! Go Ireland! Luck of the Irish. Down with the Brits!”

  Miss May laughed and cupped her hands around her mouth. “I agree! Ireland is the best at soccer!”

  A dozen people turned back and screamed at Miss May in unison. “Football!”

  Miss May kept her hands cupped around her mouth. “Correction. Football!”

  An Irish player stole the ball from an English player and the crowd erupted in another cheer. The place was so loud I couldn’t hear myself think. So I chimed in on the cheers, despite my lack of footie knowledge.

  “Yeah! Football is a great sport. And Ireland is the best at kicking balls!” Yeesh. Thankfully, the crowd drowned out my lame cheer.

  A tipsy man in his mid-thirties rushed up to us with a smile on his face. He wore a Murphy’s t-shirt, and he had a big red beard and he spoke with a deep, raspy voice.

  “Miss May. Chelsea! And is that the Grandma’s lady? Heck yeah. I knew you girls had a little Irish in you. I got a mystery for ya... why aren’t you ladies drinking? Let me fix that.”

  “Jim!” Miss May hugged the bearded man, who I assumed to be Jim. “Make it a Guinness. Three, please.”

  “You know that guy?” I asked.

  Miss May looked incredulous. “Chelsea! That’s Jim Murphy. He was two years ahead of you in school. I’m sure you remember him.”

  I shrugged. Miss May somehow had more friends from my high school than I did.

  “Maybe I do,” I said. I didn’t. I hadn’t been much of a partier in high school. Or college. Or as an adult. Jim, on the other hand, seemed to have Guinness running through his veins.

  “You definitely remember him, Chelsea.” Miss May leaned in and whispered. “His dad went to jail when you were in high school. Jim and the family always said it was a wrongful conviction. But his dad died behind bars before anyone proved his innocence.”

  My eyes widened. “Wow! He looks different with a beard.”

  “Well that’s him,” Miss May said. “This was his dad’s bar, years ago. Now it belongs to Jim.”

  Another cheer erupted from the crowd. The sleeping man at the bar sat straight up and hoisted his mug of beer into the air. Then returned to his slumber.

  “Jim’s done a great job,” I said. “This place is amazing.”

  “I agree,” Teeny said. “And we haven’t even started drinking yet.”

  As if on cue, Jim showed up with three beers and handed them to us. “Drinks on me! Until we run out.”

  Miss May took her beer and raise the glass to Jim. “Works for me.”

  Jim leaned in with a laugh. “Here’s a little secret. We’re never going to run out. For real, though. You girls have a good time. Let me know if you need anything. Go Ireland!”

  Jim turned to go but Miss May grabbed his arm. “Actually... We were wondering. Is Beverly working? Haven’t seen her in so long, I’d love to say hi!”

  “Bev Brewster?”

  Miss May nodded.

  Jim smiled. “Heck yeah Bev’s in the house. Follow me, I’ll take you to her!”

  Jim pushed his way through the crowd, making a path for us and hi-fiving patrons as he went. About a minute later, he led us through a swinging door and into the kitchen.

  “Beverly! Bev! Beverly Brewster!” Jim looked around. No Beverly. A tattooed line cook looked up at us and shrugged. Jim turned back to us. “Well, she’s back here somewhere. I’m sure you’ll find her.”

  Miss May raised a glass to Jim once again. “Sounds good. Thanks, Jim. And say hi to your mother for me.”

  “Of course,” Jim said. “And hey... Don’t forget—”

  “Root for Ireland!” Teeny pumped her mug in the air, but no Guinness sloshed out...because the mug was already empty.

  My eyes widened. “Wow. Teeny... Did you already drink your whole beer?”

  Teeny let out a little burp. “I guess I did.”

  Teeny cracked up laughing, and Miss May and I joined in the laughter. But an unfriendly voice broke up the lighthearted moment.

  “Hey!”

  There was Beverly Brewster, scowling and wiping her hands on her apron. “What are the Hardy Girls doing at my work?”

  12

  Beverly Hills and Valleys

  We sat on a milk crate out behind the bar. A scraggly old barback tossed a bag of trash into a dumpster with a clunk. But otherwise the cacophony from inside Murphy’s was muted. It needed to be, because Beverly had a story to tell.

  “First of all,” Bev said. “I want you all to know, I’m insulted you’re here.”

  “Bev—” Miss May began.

  “No, May. This pub may not be much, but it’s my place of work. Everyone knows me here. So when they see the famous local sleuths walk in looking for me two days after a murder? I don’t have to tell you what they’re all going to think.”

  “You know what,” Miss May said. “You’re right. I’m
sorry.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Beverly said. “You’re lucky everyone in that bar is too drunk to think. If they were thinking sober thoughts, this would ruin me. I’m shocked Jim even let you inside.”

  Miss May shifted on her milk crate. “You’re right. Our reputations proceed us. Teeny, too.”

  “I’m not too drunk to think!” Teeny protested.

  “No one said you are,” Beverly said.

  “I’m not!” Teeny hiccupped.

  “Teeny,” Miss May said with a smirk. “You chugged that Guinness like it was Gatorade after a big game.”

  Teeny crossed her arms. “I’m not such a lightweight that one Guinness—” hiccup “—makes me tipsy!”

  “It’s not like anyone is breath-a-lyzing you, Teen. Who cares?” Beverly said. “I’d love to get buzzed off a single beer! You know how much money that’d save me?”

  “OK,” Miss May said. “Beverly, why don’t you tell us the second thing? You got hung up on the first.”

  “Right!” Beverly said. “And I’m not even drunk.”

  Teeny glared. “I’m not drunk!”

  “The second thing is,” Beverly continued, “I loved Dolores Smith. We had a true family connection, dating back centuries. I’ve lived long enough to know those connections are rare, May. I’m sick about what happened to her. And you can bet your bottom dollar, your top dollar and all the dollars in the middle, I would have never hurt that woman.”

  I scrunched up my nose. “I don’t understand. Granny Smith said—”

  Beverly nodded. “Yes. Dolores spread horrible rumors about my ancestors. She claimed she had found scandalous documents. And that upset me. Wouldn’t it upset you?”

  We nodded.

  “Right. So things got heated in the bakeshop. And I may have called Dolores a crusty old bag of dirt. But I’m telling you, we go back. Things between us may have gotten tense in the last few years. But I had nothing but love for that woman. I was ready to bury the hatchet. And not in her back, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  Teeny hiccupped. “I was thinking that. Thank you for the clarification.”

  Beverly continued. “For most of my adult life, Dolores and I were two yolks in an egg. Best friends forever, isn’t that what the kids say, Chelsea?”

  “They said that when I was a kid,” I said. “No clue what they say now.”

  Beverly sat up a little straighter. “May. You might not remember, but Granny Smith and I even had a joint birthday party once. About ten years ago.”

  Miss May’s eyes widened. “Oh my goodness! I had forgotten about that. That was a great party. Didn’t you wear matching outfits?”

  Beverly laughed. “Polka dot dresses and the biggest sun hats we could find. Best birthday party I ever had. We used to be so close.”

  “So what happened?” Miss May asked.

  Beverly looked down. “I guess... I did something bad.”

  Teeny’s eyes widened. “What’s that supposed to mean? Did you steal her dog and dye his hair blue and tell everybody he was a unicorn and try to sell him at a pet shop for fifty-five thousand dollars?”

  “Is that from North Port Diaries?” I asked.

  “No, that’s straight from the mind of a genius,” Teeny said. We all stared at her for a moment. “Me! I’m the genius.”

  Bev cocked her head. “It wasn’t the unicorn thing. Dolores didn’t even have a dog. She hated animals.”

  “Then what did you do?” Teeny asked. “What could be worse than turning her dog into a unicorn?”

  Beverly sighed. “Do you three know Wendell? Dolores’s ex-husband?”

  Miss May glanced over at me, then back to Beverly. “Sure. We know Wendell. Not well, but...”

  “He was there at the orchard that day,” I said. “But that was the first time I’d seen him.”

  “Well...” Beverly said. “Wendell and I... fell in love. While he was still married to Dolores. Nobody knows, but we’ve been ‘hooking up’ for quite some time.”

  “Dun, dun, dun,” said Teeny, sounding like a dramatic TV show.

  “Teeny!” Miss May glared.

  Teeny threw up her hands. “What? Was that not an appropriate moment for a dramatic noise?”

  Beverly chucked. “It was the perfect moment for a dramatic noise.”

  Teeny pointed at Bev. “Thank you!”

  “So what happened after you and Wendell fell for each other?” I asked.

  Beverly sighed. “Prior to that, Dolores and I were still close. But once she found out about the affair... Well, they got their divorce. And that’s when the rumors began. Claiming the Brewster families were traitors to America during the Revolutionary War.”

  “So Granny’s recent revelation about the Brewster family wasn’t the first?” I said.

  “No way,” Beverly said. “She’s been trying to discredit my family once or twice a month for quite a while now.”

  “It’s true,” Miss May said. “Dolores once stopped me on the street to tell me she’d found evidence Jedediah Brewster frequented Canadian brothels.”

  “See!” Beverly shook her head. “The woman would say anything to bring shame on my family!”

  “That’s crazy,” I said.

  Beverly nodded. “You’re telling me! That old bat thought the rumors would ruin me. But I didn’t care. And no one else did, either.”

  Miss May shifted on her crate. “It seems like you cared at the bakeshop this weekend.”

  Beverly’s tone turned sharp. “I got sick of her parading around like that. She was impossible to reason with. Got to the point where the sight of her would set me off.”

  Miss May and I exchanged nervous looks.

  “I didn’t kill her, May.” Beverly’s nostrils flared.

  Miss May scooted back. “I didn’t say you did.”

  “But that’s why you’re here. That’s why you’ve interrupted my day. Can you deny that?”

  Miss May looked down. So did I.

  “Exactly. Honestly. I can’t believe you suspected me. How long have we known each other?”

  Miss May didn’t look up. “At the bakeshop—”

  “I told you that was nothing!” Beverly yelled.

  The sound of Beverly’s voice hung in the air for a protracted moment. Then she continued in a calmer tone. “I don’t regret what happened with Wendell either, by the way. That marriage was over long before Wendell and I started up. And I resisted his charisma for years before I crumbled. You’ve all met him. You know what I’m talking about.”

  Teeny scoffed. “Wendell? No thanks! But whatever floats your boat, I guess. I think that old guy would sink mine, though. Ker-plunk to the bottom of the ocean. Me, DiCaprio, and the Heart of the Sea. Gone forever.”

  Beverly gaped at Teeny. “Excuse me?”

  I piped up. “I think Teeny’s trying to say... She’s more into bearded, mechanic types. Like Big Dan.”

  “Oh I am not,” Teeny said.

  “Any woman who’d take Big Dan over Wendell is blind,” Beverly said. “Wendell is pure sex appeal.” Maybe 800 years ago. “Dolores didn’t appreciate him one bit. And that’s not to mention how sweet he could be. Plus, Dolores was horrible to him. She started up flirting with that real estate agent while she was still hitched to Wendell. Then she marries that house-hocker less than a year after her divorce? And plans a trip to Sonoma with him? I’m sure you’ve heard about that.”

  “We’ve heard a thing or two,” Miss May said.

  “Well here’s a thing or two more,” Beverly said. “Wendell had been trying to get Dolores to take that vacation to Sonoma wine country with him for years. She refused. Some nonsense about how she couldn’t fly anymore with her delicate hips. Then she takes up with Ricardo and they book a trip to Sonoma right away.”

  “That is slimy,” Teeny said. “Real slimy, if you ask me. Like expired bologna.”

  “I agree,” Beverly said. “And I understand why Wendell hated that old lady as much as he did. Honestly? I’m
surprised Wendell didn’t do something about the situation sooner.”

  Miss May narrowed her eyes. “What you mean you’re surprised he didn’t ‘do something’ about the situation sooner? What did he do?”

  Bev stammered. “W-what?”

  “You said you’re surprised Wendell didn’t do something about it sooner,” Miss May said. “What did you mean by that?”

  “Oh.” Beverly laughed a nervous chuckle. “I... I didn’t mean he killed her, if that’s what you’re thinking. I’m surprised he didn’t start up with me sooner. That’s all.”

  “But I thought he started up with you before Granny Smith and Ricardo planned their trip to Sonoma.” Miss May was a bloodhound on the scent.

  “Don’t trip me up May. You know what I’m saying.”

  Miss May held up her hands. “OK. Calm down.”

  “Wendell didn’t hurt anyone! Don’t you chase him down for this.” Beverly stood up, knocking over Miss May’s mug of Guinness with her foot. “Dammit! Now look what I’ve done!”

  “We’re all good, Bev. Nothing to get upset about.”

  Beverly took a step toward Miss May. Miss May gulped.

  “Tell me you won’t bother Wendell. He can’t take any more stress right now. I want you to promise me, May.”

  Miss May stood with an apologetic look on her face. “I can’t make any promises, Bev. I have to follow the investigation where it—”

  Beverly pushed Miss May up against the dumpster. “I said promise me!”

  The door of the bar whooshed open and Jim Murphy stepped out. “Bev! What are you doing?”

  Beverly stepped away from Miss May. “Nothing. I’ll get back to work. Sorry, Jim.”

  Beverly shot one last glare at Miss May then disappeared back inside the bar.

  Jim spun on Miss May. “I thought this was just a friendly visit.”

  “It was,” Miss May said.

  “Then why does it sound like you’re here investigating Dolores Smith’s murder? That lady was a mean old snitch, but nobody I know killed her. That’s for sure.”

  Miss May brushed off her jacket and straightened her posture. “That’s not, we weren’t here about Dolores. We were just saying hello to Bev and we had a little disagreement about...um...”