“You tell me,” said Miss May.
“I mean, there’s so many brown-haired women in town. Could be anyone.”
“But let’s work with the clues we have,” said Miss May.
“Then I guess I would point to Rebecca.”
“Why?” Miss May leaned forward.
“Because… Because Rebecca showed up at the out-of-order bathroom at the exact time Buck was supposed to be there? I don’t think that was a coincidence. I think it was a romantic rendezvous or maybe it was a romantic rendezvous gone wrong.”
“Interesting.”
“But there’s one important detail that doesn’t add up…”
“Rebecca has red hair.”
I took my last bite of pizza and nodded with my mouth full. “Exactly.”
“Hair colors can change,” Miss May pointed out. “You had blue hair when you were seventeen. But somehow it made its way back to beautiful dirty blonde.”
“Let’s not attack my blue hair,” I said. “I think it was a good look. But I see your point. Rebecca could have dyed her hair red, or brown, or any color. At any point.”
Miss May nodded. “I’ll call Petey and ask about Rebecca’s hair.”
I nodded. “I’ll have another slice of pizza while I wait.”
Petey picked up on the first ring. Miss May exchanged quick pleasantries then got down to business.
“I wanna ask you something about your waitress, Rebecca.”
Miss May put Petey on speaker so I could here.
“OK. Anything,” Petey said through the phone.
“Right now her hair is red. Has it always been red?”
“Yeah.” Peter answered in an instant. “She’s the red-haired waitress. For sure.”
Miss May looked over at me with narrowed eyes. “So Rebecca’s hair has always been red. You think she’s a natural redhead, not someone who dyed it that color?”
“I think so,” Petey said. “Her eyebrows are red too. And she has freckles.”
“Petey…” I began, “how many waitresses do you have there?”
“Oh hey, Chelsea,” Petey said. “Honestly, I don’t even know. Too many. Buck had some crazy system where every waitress should only work three hour shifts. So we had to hire a lot of girls and shuffle them around constantly. Scheduling was a disaster.”
“Did you only hire girls?” I asked.
“I’ve got a couple guys on staff from when I opened this place. But yeah, Buck insisted we hire female servers. He said women are gentler and more graceful than men… Less likely to spill. Something like that. I’ve got to have at least thirty or forty women on staff. A gaggle of girls from every surrounding town.”
Miss May rested her chin in her hand. “Is it possible you don’t know the hair color of every waitress? Or that if one of your servers dyed her hair, you might not notice?”
“Oh,” said Petey. “Yeah. I guess it’s possible. I feel so confident because I’ve seen so much of Rebecca lately… Because of this whole Buck situation. But to be honest, I don’t totally remember when I hired her or what she looked like then. Not even sure if I interviewed her at all.”
Miss May sighed. “OK, Petey. Thanks for chatting with us. Get back to your night.”
Miss May glanced at me, looking a little hopeless.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “I have a better idea. But it will have to wait until tomorrow.”
Miss May took a big bite of pizza and looked at me like, this better be good.
Miss May and I showed up at Jennifer Paul’s hair salon first thing the next morning. Jennifer had been on quite the emotional and spiritual journey since I had arrived in Pine Grove. First, she had struggled with her mental health, rather publicly. Then she’d briefly converted her hair salon to a yoga studio. Finally, she’d added hair care back to the yoga studio and settled on a combination of the two businesses. According to local gossip she had finally found stability and balance and I was excited to see her that morning.
Jennifer gave us a perky greeting as we walked up. “Hey, ladies! Haircuts, yoga, murder suspect, or all three?”
“None of the above,” I said. “Quick question for you.”
“I didn’t do it. I wasn’t in town the night Buck was killed. And I’ve been taking my meds.”
I put my hands up to show my neutrality. “We don’t suspect you of murder. Really.” I pulled out my smart phone and opened to a picture of Rebecca that I had found on the Internet. She was smiling, on a hike, with red hair. “But do you know this girl?”
“Rebecca. Yep.”
“And have you ever colored her hair?” I asked.
22
Hair Died
“You were right!” Miss May started talking as soon as we shut the doors of the pickup and clicked in our seat belts. “Jennifer dyed Rebecca’s hair red last week. And before that it was long and brown. Just like the hair in the hairbrush! Good job, Chelsea. You were right. Jennifer had the info.”
“So you think Buck and Rebecca were definitely having an affair?”
Miss May took a deep breath through her nostrils. “Definitely is a strong word. But I suspect it now more than ever.”
I started the car and drove away. “Agreed. But the hair on the brush was brown, not red… So if Rebecca had her hair dyed red a week ago that means she hadn’t been with Buck for at least a week.”
“Maybe they had a falling out before Rebecca dyed her hair,” Miss May suggested. “Maybe they had begun to hate each other and when they saw one another at work, it filled both of them with fury.”
“Or maybe the hair on the brush belonged to another brown-haired girl,” I said. “Sounds like Buck was quite the creep, hiring only women at the restaurant.”
“That is an old-fashioned misogynistic policy,” said Miss May. “But I don’t want to get distracted with the idea of other women just yet. Let’s try to stay focused and confirm the affair. If we can find out whether or not Buck had a relationship with Rebecca, that could be a big deal for this investigation.”
I took a hard left turn. “I’ll head to Peter’s Land and Sea.”
“Not today,” said Miss May. “Pull a U-turn. Land and Sea caters a big lunch every Wednesday for the retirees at Washington Villages. If you drive to the villages now, we’ll arrive just in time for the food to be served.”
I checked the clock. “It’s barely 11 AM.”
“That’s lunch time for old folks.”
I pulled a U-turn and headed for the villages. Many of our prior investigations had taken us to Washington Villages, mostly because the older residents there loved gossip and had all sorts of helpful information. Also because, occasionally, one or two of the residents were suspects in our investigations. But each visit had been exciting and suspenseful. As we pulled up, a warm nostalgic feeling flooded my body. Maybe it’s odd to have nostalgia for prior murder investigations, but what can I say? The human heart is a complicated thing.
Washington Villages was a classy retirement community with big, columned white buildings, two tennis courts and plenty of green space.
Miss May circumvented the security check-in by walking around to the back of the building and we followed the Land and Sea catering staff inside the cafeteria.
Miss May and I huddled together in the corner of the large room to remain unseen as we devised our plan.
“Teeny is going to be so mad she missed this.” I said as I scanned the crowd for Rebecca. “She loves to sneak. We should have called her.”
“I texted her from the car. You didn’t see that?”
“I guess not. Is she coming?”
Miss May shrugged. “No reply. But it might be better for the two of us to handle this on our own, anyway. We need to be quiet and stealthy. Not that Teeny isn’t quiet and stealthy… But she’s not.”
I looked back out at the cafeteria. The catering staff had set up about twenty big, circular tables. Each table seated a handful of happy, elderly residents. I watched an ancient woman drink
an entire mimosa in a single sip. I admired the white tablecloths and fancy dishware. And I reflected on how the team from Land and Sea had transformed the cafeteria into what felt like a nice restaurant without much effort.
I also couldn’t help but notice all the cute, young waitresses bustling from table to table. “So many attractive young women at this event,” I said.
“Yup,” said Miss May. “But I don’t see Rebecca anywhere.”
“Me neither.”
Miss May shook her head. “I suppose we should have seen this coming. Petey said he has several hundred million waitresses on staff and he schedules them in weird intervals, so I’m sure there are a bunch of them who aren’t here today, not just Rebecca.”
A loud crash rang out from across the room followed by a thud. I looked over and there stood Teeny, hands over her mouth, standing above an entire turkey that had been knocked to the floor. “Oh! I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you there. Or the turkey.”
Teeny was standing with an employee of Washington Villages, almost like she was on some kind of orientation tour. I marveled at her ability to make herself known so quickly upon entering.
“See?” Teeny said to her bewildered tour guide. “I told you I need this old folks’ home. I can barely take care of myself. Everywhere I go, I’m running into turkeys.”
“All of our residents can take care of themselves, miss. At Washington Villages, we merely provide a fun, social environment meant for active older individuals to enjoy life to the finest in their golden years.”
“Great, great,” said Teeny. “I think I see one of those fine golden-aged individuals across the room. That’s my friend Miss May. I’m going to go say hi to her.”
Miss May laughed. “Hi, Teeny. I can hear you.”
Teeny edged past one of the circular tables as she approached us. “I can’t believe the two of you were going to come on this mission without me.”
“I texted you.”
“You’re supposed to call me. I never read my texts. Writing’s too small. Don’t know how to make it bigger.”
“Why don’t you wear your glasses?” I asked.
“I don’t need glasses,” Teeny said, frowning.
“But you can’t read small print.”
“My eyes are great,” Teeny said. “Anyway, I got Siri or whoever that woman in my phone is to read my texts to me this morning. Lucky for you two. So now, voila, here I am!”
“Quite an entrance you made. How did you manage to knock over an entire turkey?” I asked.
“Oh, that turkey should have watched where it was going,” Teeny said. “Not my fault. So what’s the plan?”
Miss May shrugged. “I don’t know for sure. We were trying to keep a low profile. Until you got here.”
Someone cleared their throat from behind us. “I saw you standing here the whole time. You weren’t hiding from me.”
I turned to find our favorite Washington Villages resident, Petunia, smiling up at us from her seat at a banquet table.
“When you three need to do an investigation at Washington Villages, you’re supposed to come straight to me. I’ve proven myself. Have I not proven myself?”
“Of course you’ve proven yourself, Petunia,” said Miss May. “But—”
“But we didn’t want to offend you,” I said. “Sometimes when we show up here, you think we’re accusing you of murder.”
Petunia dismissed me with a snort, then grabbed my arm with the grip strength only older women have. “What’s going on with your love life, Chelsea? Are you still with the lion tamer or have you wised up?”
“Lion tamer,” I said.
Petunia clucked her tongue. “I have access to dozens of eligible grandsons, you know. Just say the word and I’ll have you going on dates every night for ten years straight. A lot of these kids are weird, don’t get me wrong. They’ve got twelve jobs driving people around and walking dogs, and all the while they say they’re artists, that kind of thing. But you’re weird too, so maybe you’d get along. What’s up with this investigation?”
“I was trying to tell you,” said Miss May. “We’re not here to talk to any of the residents. “
“You’re here to snoop on somebody who works at the Villages? Or to get information from one of these caterers?”
Miss May nodded. “The caterers. Yes.”
“I can help with that, too,” said Petunia. “For a price.”
23
A Hairy Situation
“You’re going to charge to help us with an investigation?” asked Teeny. “That’s messed up. We’re trying to find a killer here, Petunia. Don’t stand in the way of justice. What if someone else gets killed while you’re negotiating your fee? Then that blood is on your hands.”
Petunia shrugged. “I provide a valuable service as an informant, and my mother always taught me to demand what I want in life. Besides, I’ve been losing at the poker tables for a month straight and I need a bigger bankroll. Are you really moving to Washington Villages, Teeny? I hope not. No offense, but you’re kind of annoying.”
Teeny gasped. “I am not annoying. People love me. Right?”
“Mixed reviews,” said Miss May.
“Hey!”
“Relax, Teeny.” I chuckled. “We love you a whole big bunch. Everyone does. Right, Petunia?”
“Eh. I still think you’re annoying,” said Petunia. “Now pay up.”
“How do we know you’re not going to make up some fictional clue to get your money?” Teeny asked. “Sounds like you’re desperate for cash.”
“That’s an insult to my limited integrity,” said Petunia. “I’ve never led you astray. And the three of you have accused me of murder more than once. Still. I tell you the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help me God. Ask my grandkids. They call me Honest Abe. Kind of an insulting moniker. I don’t think I look like an Abe. But hey, they’re kids, and kids are all stupid.”
“Do your grandkids know their granny has a gambling problem?” Teeny asked.
“That’s it,” said Petunia. “I’m out. Forget it.”
Miss May glared at Teeny. Teeny sighed. “OK. I’m sorry. I don’t think you have a gambling problem. I just got fired up. Sometimes I start thinking like I’m in one of my TV shows and I get to talking like some wisecracking Brit.”
Petunia narrowed her eyes. “What are your shows?”
“Lately it’s been all Jenna and Mr. Flowers,” said Teeny.
Petunia smiled so big it went from one ear all the way out the side of her head. It was the biggest smile that had ever crossed her face, at least in my presence, and it was adorable. “I love Jenna and Mr. Flowers. Mr. Flowers is always two steps ahead of the criminal and Jenna is such a good sidekick. She’s hysterical. Sometimes she puts her foot in her mouth but you know she means well.”
“That’s like me,” said Teeny. “And Chelsea, frankly. This girl has her foot in the mouth so much she might as well get foot-flavored toothpaste.”
I crinkled my nose in disgust. But I couldn’t disagree.
Petunia slapped her knee. “Foot-flavored toothpaste. Now I get it. You’re the tough, funny one. You’re spunky.”
“That’s right. Just like you,” said Teeny.
“Listen,” said Petunia. “I’m going to help you girls out for free today. Because I like you and I feel bad about the whole calling you annoying thing. But I want you know, it’s the last time. From now on I’m going to need twenty bucks for every tip I provide. That’s fair, right?
“Of course,” said Miss May. “And I’ll give you free pie anytime you’re up at the orchard.”
“I like the apple cider donuts. Chocolate covered.”
“Those are my favorite too,” said Teeny.
“Deal,” said Miss May. “Free apple cider donuts, chocolate-covered, whenever you’re up at the orchard. And I’ll send you a box to your apartment every so often so you have something to snack on while you’re watching your shows.”
Petunia
smiled again. “Donuts and mysteries. That’s a good night. Throw in a little poker and I’m in heaven.”
“Sorry to hear you’ve been losing,” I said. “I’m sure it’s just a bad run of cards.”
Petunia shook her head. “I wish. It’s Ethel. That old skeleton finally started betting real money at the table! Don’t know where she got it. Probably finally tapped those stocks and bonds from the 50s. At first, it was like Christmas every day. Then she got good at bluffing!”
A tiny, much older woman leaned forward. It was Ethel. She cupped her hand around her ear. “What?”
Petunia yelled so Ethel could hear. “I said you’ve gotten good at bluffing.”
“That’s right,” said Ethel. “You never know if I’ve got aces or deuces!”
Moments later, we were all seated around a little table beside a pond on the Washington Villages grounds. Miss May filled Petunia in on the case and concluded by asking Petunia if she knew anything about Rebecca and Buck.
“Oh yeah. Rebecca and Buck were involved,” said Petunia. “Do you know what I mean by involved? I don’t want to get dirty.”
“We know what you mean,” said Miss May in a rush.
“How do you know they were…together?” I asked Petunia. I wasn’t eager for any sordid details, but I was curious about her source.
“I walked in on them in a storage closet. And let me tell you, they were really—”
“We get it,” said Miss May, once again in a hurry. “What were you doing in the storage closet?”
“Stealing toilet paper. Only idiots pay for toilet paper in this community.” Petunia took a big sip from a water bottle. “You probably want to know how I knew it was Rebecca, too. With all these pretty girls running around, an old lady like me might get confused.”
“No one called you old,” said Miss May.
“You didn’t have to. I am old. And the reason I know it was Rebecca is because that minx was supposed to marry my grandson. Yep. Five years ago. They were engaged, and then she cheated on him.”
The Smoking Bun (Apple Orchard Cozy Mystery Book 10) Page 9