Wayne stood at attention. “Miss May, hi. Sorry I was lounging. I’ve just been waiting here for… A while. A good, long while. I tried Chelsea’s phone but it’s dead and I presume you don’t have yours with you?”
“I don’t.”
I sidled up behind Miss May and tried my best to give off a cool and confident vibe. “What’s up Wayne? How you doing?”
“I’m OK, thanks. Hope you’re doing well too.”
“You’re here to see Chelsea?” Miss May asked.
“No. I’ve got news about the case, that’s all.”
Miss May looked back at me and winked. Then she turned back to Wayne. “I need to head inside. My dogs are barkin’. You two stay out here in the moonlight and discuss all that needs to be discussed. Chelsea will catch me up later.”
Miss May brushed past Wayne and entered the farmhouse with what I was sure was a glib little smile. The screen door closed behind her and suddenly I was alone, with only Wayne and the faraway sound of an owl singing in the night.
Neither Wayne nor I talked for a few seconds. Then we both spoke at the same time.
“I’m sorry, go ahead,” said Wayne.
“No. You go,” I said. “There’s news about the case?”
Wayne nodded. “Right. Right. I’m here about the case.” I narrowed my eyes. Was he telling me that or was that something he was telling himself? “Yeah. Big news back from the lab. Turns out Buck didn’t die from a head wound.”
“What did he die from?” I asked. “Actually, hold on a second. Why are you telling me this? Chief Flanagan hates me and Miss May and Teeny. And you’re not often so giving with information.”
“Do you want me not to tell you?”
“No. I— Of course I want to know. I’m just confused.”
Wayne looked down and nudged the earth with his shoe. “I get that. And you’re right. I’m not usually so giving. But I’m trying to turn over a new leaf. Look, you and Miss May and even Teeny, you’ve been helpful. The fact of the matter is we’ve got a murder problem in this town. And the three of you are a big part of what I see as the solution. I’ve decided that what Chief Flanagan doesn’t know won’t hurt her. So I’m sharing my information with you. That’s what’s best for Pine Grove and I’m not going to let my ego get in the way.” Wayne’s eyes met mine. “I know you don’t like guys with big egos.”
That last sentence hung in the air for a few seconds. I wondered if Wayne was truly changing his tune for the benefit of the people of Pine Grove or if, perhaps, he was changing his tune to draw me away from Germany Turtle. Either way, I didn’t mind it.
I stood a little taller. “OK. I respect that. Miss May and Teeny will appreciate that you’ve decided to clue us in, so to speak. But I can’t promise we’re going to reciprocate. No offense, but the Pine Grove Police Department has a bit of a habit of bungling investigations. Half the time Flanagan won’t even admit there’s been a murder until we’re halfway finished solving the crime. If we have an important clue and the wrong officer gets a hold of it… Who knows what could happen?”
“I expect you’ll use your discretion and share whatever you think you can,” said Wayne.
“You expect correct.”
“Anyway,” said Wayne, “the reason I’m here is because we found out that Buck didn’t die from his head wound. Maybe you and your aunt already suspected that, but… we’ve confirmed that the injury was incidental. There was blood but it wasn’t a deep gash. Buck could have walked away from his fall without even getting stitches. The guy died from poison, turns out. Not sure how they determined that, I don’t know the science. But yeah, that’s what got him. Poison in that delicious looking cinnamon bun. I think the medical examiner said it was ‘technically cyanide?’ Don’t know what was technical about it. Weird. But, this is important to note, we can now conclude—”
“That this was not an impulsive crime of passion,” I interrupted. “Whoever did this planned it out ahead of time. They didn’t get angry at Buck and slam his head into the tile. They pre-meditated the killing, cold and meticulous.”
“Took the words right off my lips.” I tried not to look at Wayne’s lips as he said that. But they were quite plump and luscious.
I moved past Wayne and toward the door to the farmhouse. “Alright. Thanks for stopping by.”
Wayne stepped in my path. “Wait. I’ve got another question. About um, I guess another type of investigation?”
I looked at him and blinked like a wide-eyed ingenue as if to say, I’m waiting. I didn’t know why but I was feeling sassy and I liked it.
“OK,” Wayne continued. “So basically I’m wondering… What’s the deal with you and Germany Turtle?”
“He’s my boyfriend. He’s in Africa. That’s public knowledge.”
“Right. But I’m after the private knowledge. Seems to me the guy’s pretty committed to petting those Saharan lions or whatever. Watching them while they sleep. Hey, I’m sure it’s important work. It is what it is. I just want to know how you feel about it. Attractive, successful city girl like you… She shouldn’t be abandoned for a pride of lions, if you ask me.”
Wayne had some nerve, making assumptions about my relationship. Even if he was a little right. Germany had won me over with his persistence and endearing verbosity and constant presence. So yeah, sure, long distance had a been challenge. But we were making it work. Right?
“Enough about Germany,” I said, sidestepping Wayne’s questions. “Back to this murder in Pine Grove. That should be the focus of your concern. And I have a question of my own. Are the cops looking at Teeny as a suspect?”
Wayne shrugged. “You don’t want to talk to me, I don’t want to talk to you.”
“I thought you wanted to share information all of a sudden!”
“All of a sudden now I don’t.”
“Uch. Whatever. Can you at least tell me what’s going on with that foot?”
Wayne squinted into the darkness and acted like he was in a film noir. “No can do, ma’am. Official police business.”
As Wayne drove away I thought about our conversation. He’d clammed up the moment I’d refused to talk about Germany. But I felt a strange bubbling sensation through my torso. It was almost as if… I liked that Wayne had acted jealous.
I sat on the porch steps and let out a long, slow breath. My mind flashed to images of the cinnamon bun with one bite taken out, and then to the severed foot that Steve the dog had dug up on the orchard. Life in Pine Grove seemed simple on its face. But small town living was more complicated than it looked on the surface.
A heavy dread replaced the bubbling in my stomach. Miss May, Teeny, and I had work to do… Because there was no telling who might turn up dead next.
14
Dog Tired
After a few minutes, I went into the farmhouse and headed up the stairs to my bedroom. Steve the dog was curled up on my comforter. He lifted his head when I entered and his ears shifted with alert curiosity. His tail wagged as I approached.
I smiled, happy to see him. Then, we had a true heart-to-heart conversation. I spoke aloud, of course. But Steve communicated entirely with his big, expressive eyes. The following is a transcript of that conversation:
Me: “Hey, Steve. You look comfortable. Any room on that dog bed for a human?”
Steve: “Sure. But try not to make me move.”
Me: “Thanks. It’s so kind of you to allow me a little space on my own bed.”
Steve: “Anytime.”
There were a few minutes of silence after I flopped down on the bed, then Steve rearranged himself so his head was on my stomach. He was warm and soft and I stroked the soft fur of his back. Then he looked up at me with his big, brown eyes.
Steve: “What’s going on with you? I sense some angst or discomfort in your belly region. I don’t think it’s gas because I don’t hear anything.”
Me: “You need a haircut.”
Steve: “Don’t change the subject. I want to know what’s go
ing on with you. You’re always afraid to confront your emotions head on. It’s not good.”
Me: “I’ve got a lot on my mind. Leave me alone.”
There were a few more moments of silence as I ran my head over Steve’s long coat. He really did need a haircut.
But Steve just couldn’t move on…
Steve: “Is this about Germany? What’s your status with him, anyway? It seems like he might love lions more than he loves you.”
Me: “That’s not nice.”
Steve: “Relax. You know what I mean. The guy’s in Africa all the time. Why do the lions need to be studied? They’re the kings and queens of the jungle. They’re fine without some Turtle sitting around watching their every move.”
Me: “I admire his research. It’s nice that he wants to help the lions.”
Steve: “But that’s what I’m saying… How does he want to help them?”
Me: “I don’t know. I guess you’re right. I do feel confused about my status with Germany. He’s my boyfriend, I know that. But Wayne has been sending me some strong signals, and I guess that’s making me… confused.”
Steve: “I get that. You and Wayne have a thing. He has a really strong man smell, I always notice it. How do you feel about Wayne?”
I shrugged. Steve whined. I rolled my eyes.
Me: “I like him. You know that I like him. You’ve witnessed our conversations on several occasions. We have chemistry. He’s handsome. That doesn’t mean we have to be an item. Especially because I’m spoken for.”
Steve: “That’s not a very feminist term. You shouldn’t be spoken for. You should do the speaking.”
Me: “You know what I mean.”
Steve rolled over on his belly and I scratched it. Then he flipped back over onto his stomach and looked at me.
Steve: “Do you think Teeny is going to be arrested?”
Me: “I don’t know. I hope not. But these cops have done stupider things.”
Steve: “What do you think about the whole cinnamon bun thing?”
Me: “It’s a disgrace! Who would kill someone with something as delicious as a cinnamon bun? It’s a crime against baked goods everywhere! When we catch this killer, they should get an extra stern punishment for ruining that cinnamon bun. I don’t know if I’m ever going to be able to eat a cinnamon bun again, come to think of it. They’re all going to look like poison to me. What a tragedy.”
Steve: “There’s no way you’re staying away from cinnamon buns forever.”
Me: “You know me too well.”
I fell asleep a few minutes later with Steve curled up in the nook of my arm.
As I slept, I dreamt that Miss May, Teeny, and I were running through the streets of Pine Grove pursuing a masked criminal. Just as we caught up to the criminal, they jumped in a bright red convertible and disappeared into the night. The driver tossed poisonous cinnamon buns out the window as they sped away.
In the dream, I felt frustrated and slow, like in those nightmares where you’re trying to run and every muscle in your body feels like molasses.
But when I woke up the next morning the nightmare didn’t hang with me in a bad way. Instead, it motivated me to get out of bed and get to work solving the case. There was a lot Miss May, Teeny and I needed to discuss, and it was important that we act fast.
15
Morning Walks
I shuffled into the kitchen around 8 AM to find a handwritten note on the counter that read “Wanted to get my exercise. Walked over to Grandma’s.” I shook my head. Grandma’s was at least three miles from the farm, which was a long distance for my aunt. And did Miss May expect me to walk just because she had? There was no chance of that happening. So I jumped in my light blue pickup and drove into town.
My radio was broken so I sang along to the song in my head. The tune was mostly about the pretty leaves on the trees and my need for Big Dan to fix my radio. I secretly hoped he would do it for cheap because he was Teeny’s love interest. But deep down I knew I’d pay any price for the ability to blast REO Speedwagon at top volume on my way into town again.
The parking lot at Grandma’s was empty so I grabbed the spot right out front and jaunted inside. I hadn’t forgotten my conversation with Steve the dog, and I was ready to get going so we could crack our case wide open.
When I entered, the homestyle restaurant had that cozy “opening up for the day” vibe. A hunched-over waitress married the ketchups at a table. A teenage girl vacuumed the floors, dancing a little bit to whatever music played in her headphones. Teeny’s mom, Granny, sat at the cash register doing a crossword puzzle. And Miss May and Teeny were seated in our booth, each sipping a cup of coffee, with a mostly empty pot in front of them.
Miss May raised her eyebrows when she saw me. “Chelsea. You made it. Don’t tell me you walked too.”
I tossed my keys down on the table and sat next to Teeny. “No way, Miss May. I figured you did enough exercise for both of us this morning.”
“Is that how that works?” Miss May asked with a smirk.
“Yup.”
Teeny chuckled. “If that’s the case you exercised for me, too, May. Thanks for that. You’re the best.”
Teeny flagged down a waiter and asked for a fresh pot of coffee. Then she and Miss May resumed their conversation, gossiping about a friend who had moved to Florida and found herself with two boyfriends. Although that conversation would have riveted me in the past, on that morning I had little patience for trivial matters such as the extracurricular love affairs of the septuagenarian snowbirds.
“This is all fascinating,” I said, “but we have more important things to discuss.”
“Good point.” Teeny leaned forward. “I also need to tell you about my cousin’s cousin’s best friend’s neighbor. She moved to Arizona instead of Florida and says the food is just OK.”
I laughed. “Teeny. We need to talk about the case.”
“You mean the case of detective Wayne making a late-night visit to Chelsea Thomas?” Miss May grinned. “We already covered that.”
Miss May and Teeny giggled in perfect unison.
“What would you two do without gossip?” I asked. “How would you fill the hours?”
“We’d find something to talk about,” said Teeny. “We always do. And I’d probably just watch more British crime shows, honestly.”
“Well, right now we’re living an American crime show,” I said. “And we need to figure out what we’re going to do next. Petey seems innocent but he had motive and opportunity. Maybe Petey tricked Buck, said the upstairs bathroom was working again, then followed him up there and shoved that cinnamon bun in Buck’s mouth.”
“Possible,” said Miss May. “Although that would be an odd way to poison someone. If it were me, I would’ve just found out Buck’s favorite sweet treat, baked some poison into it and waited for him to take the bait.”
Teeny pointed at Miss May. “Exactly. Trap that rat with his favorite flavor poison. I bet that’s how the killer did it. Buck was such a greedy, hideous monster of a man, may he rest in peace. I’m sure he couldn’t resist any temptation, whatsoever. Did I say may he rest in peace?”
Miss May nodded. “Yeah. But I don’t know if that makes the rest of what you said any nicer.”
“I just want to show my respect,” said Teeny. “But I can’t help how I feel.”
“Don’t talk about it so loud though,” I said. “If the people in Pine Grove hear you calling Buck a greedy monster, they’re going to start thinking you committed the murder. And if the tide of public opinion turns against you, the cops may take action. They’ve arrested us for less in the past.”
“KP, too,” said Miss May, referring to her trusty farmhand who’d been accused of murder by the PGPD not long ago. “From now on, if you want to say something nasty about Buck, turn every mean word into a nice word.”
“I can do that. Let me try right now…” Teeny cleared her throat. “I… loved… Buck. The fact that he stole my recipes delighted m
e. I loved it any time I saw his handsome and beautiful face. And let’s not forget about his chiseled, trim body. That guy was wonderful. Whenever I saw him I wanted to give him a big… hug right around the neck. I wanted to hug him so hard he lives forever.”
Miss May and I exchanged a concerned glance. Teeny perked up with a big smile. “Well. That felt great. Thanks.”
“Sometimes you scare me,” said Miss May. “What other suspects do we have?”
“I mean, there’s Rebecca,” I ventured, but I couldn’t keep the skepticism from my voice when I said her name. “She was up in the bathroom even though it didn’t work, which was odd. And she was hostile to us, for sure. But she was busy with her side business, which I understand. I can’t find the motive there.”
“Hostile people sometimes commit murder,” said Miss May.
“I know. But does Rebecca seem like the type to poison a cinnamon bun? She’s so impatient and rough around the edges. If she was ever going to murder someone I bet it would be a crime of passion. Maybe blunt force trauma over the back of the head or perhaps a stabbing? Nothing so gentle as a cinnamon bun. And not as delicious, either.”
Miss May turned down the sides of her mouth, impressed. “Wow. You’re getting good at this, Chelsea. I agree with your reasoning completely.”
“Not me,” said Teeny. “The woman has a storage unit filled with possible poisons! That’s an important clue. She also seems like a poisoner to me. When I see her walking on the street, I think, ‘You poison people.’ That’s her vibe, I’ve always thought so.”
Miss May waved Teeny away. “You have not.”
“It doesn’t matter, anyway,” I said. “We’re not taking Rebecca off the table as a suspect. Or Petey, for that matter. But I think we need to find more clues. And open the door to some other suspects, too.”
“I’m not a suspect though, right?” Teeny asked. “Buck was my favorite person in Pine Grove and I admired his originality.”
The Smoking Bun (Apple Orchard Cozy Mystery Book 10) Page 6