“Add that to the list of questions,” said Miss May.
I rumbled up the driveway to the farmhouse. A dark figure was crouched on the porch, hunched over some sort of object. When the person saw my headlights, they abandoned their parcel, vaulted over the porch railing, hopped on a bike, and sped into the darkness.
I jumped out of the car and ran after the mysterious person. “Get back here! Hey. Stop where you are! Who goes there?!” The person disappeared so fast I couldn’t even see their outline in the darkness.
I slowed to a trot and then stopped running completely. I turned back toward Teeny and Miss May. “Did you see that? Someone was here. Maybe we should call the police.”
Miss May held up her hand to calm me. “Relax. Before we do anything else let’s go see what that person left on our porch…”
29
Wrapping up a Clue
A pink pastry box sat in the illuminated circle created by our porch light. The box had been tied with a pretty string and there was a note attached to the top.
Miss May read the note aloud, “Hello Comrade, I have information that will bring to light to part of the investigation of for murder which you conduct.”
“This person doesn’t speak good English,” said Teeny.
“Keep reading,” I said.
“Meet at 10 Gravers Court. Kingston, New York. Tomorrow, 8 AM. Long live Russia. Signed, Wouldn’t You Like to Know.”
Miss May folded the note and put it in her pocket. “Someone has a tip for us. Have either of you ever met a Russian person?”
Teeny shook her head. “Not in real life.”
“What other life would Miss May be talking about?” I asked. “You think she was wondering if either of us had ever met a Russian person in our dreams? In virtual reality? In a hypnotic trance?”
“Do you really want to get into that right now?” asked Teeny.
“Let’s see what’s in the box.” Miss May scooped up the pink pastry box and untied the string with a single pull. She opened the box to reveal four perfect little pastries that looked like donuts.
“Yum.” I reached out to take one. Miss May smacked my hand away.
“I don’t think we should eat these,” she said. “They’re dusted with cinnamon and coated in sweet cream. I think these are some kind of Russian cinnamon bun.”
Teeny dropped her jaw. “You think they’re poisoned?!”
Miss May lowered her nose to the box and sniffed. “I have no idea.”
The next morning, we piled into my pickup truck and I drove up to Kingston, New York. If you’ve never been to Kingston, I would recommend it. Kingston is an old Revolutionary War town, filled with ancient brick houses, historical plaques and big, beautiful trees.
The little city had a strong enclave of artists and writers who kept the streets interesting, lively, and packed with funky bars and restaurants. But there was also a quiet, studious energy that permeated the town, sort of a holdover from the kind of pensive and serious talks I imagined took place among the founding fathers during the American Revolution.
The address on the note, 10 Gravers Court, led us to a little neighborhood restaurant on the ground floor of an apartment building. The restaurant was called Old Dancing Bear. A huge wooden bear stood out front, grinning with its big wooden teeth and wearing a fur hat. A neon sign let us know the place was already open.
“Looks like a Russian restaurant if I’ve ever seen one,” Teeny said.
“Let’s remember to be cautious and stay aware of our surroundings in there,” said Miss May. “This could be anything. It could be an ambush.”
We entered to find a wood-paneled room with a dingy bar and several sturdy, wooden tables. Russian flags and other Russian memorabilia hung on the walls and music that sounded like a depressing funeral march played over hidden speakers.
A bearded man stood behind the bar wearing an apron. I approached him, assuming he was the ‘comrade’ we were there to meet. But the man gestured toward the front corner of the room with his head as I approached. I turned and there sat a 400-pound Russian man who was bald everywhere except for the temples. He wore a navy blue sweatsuit. And he had a large, gold watch on his plump wrist.
I nudged Miss May. “That must be who we’re here to meet.”
Miss May grabbed my hand. “You lead the way.”
The man stood, with great effort, as we approached. He spoke with a thick Russian accent. His voice was heavy and deep, like his words were moving in slow motion. “Ladies. You received my note. Good. You are good people and good detectives. Thank you for coming.”
I scrunched up my nose. “That was you on the bicycle last night?” The person on the bike had seemed significantly smaller and more limber than the specimen that stood in front of us at the Old Dancing Bear.
The man shook his head. “Please, no. That was an associate. He makes all my deliveries. I am pleased to see he did a good job. Please, sit.”
The large man waited for us to take our seats and then he sat back down himself, again with a monumental effort.
Teeny put her palms down on the table and looked the man in the eye. “Alright, pal. Let’s get down to it. Do you know who killed this guy Buck? Because we got a lot investigating to do and this bear restaurant is kind of out of the way. So we need to hit the road.”
Now Teeny seemed perfectly happy to be the one doing the talking. Miss May cleared her throat and offered up her best smile to the large man. “What my friend means is thank you for inviting us here today. What can we do for you?”
When the man responded, he spoke in a higher-pitched, softer voice — the voice of a young woman. “You guys. It’s me.”
I laughed. Of course. The old Russian man was Liz, the editor of the Pine Grove Gazette, in her most elaborate disguise yet. This wasn’t the first time Liz had gone undercover and pretended to be a Russian, and somehow I doubted it would be the last.
Miss May leaned forward and squinted. “Liz? You’re buried in all that man?”
“Shhh! Quiet. You’ll blow my identity. I can’t let Yuri know this is a disguise. He thinks I’m a long-lost cousin so he lets me use this place without buying anything. There are some Russian mafia connections in Kingston. So I hang out here to try to pick up information. I’m thinking about putting together an exposé on organized crime in upstate New York and this is my foothold. I figured it would also be a good spot for us to meet. To avoid the prying eyes of Pine Grove.”
“You’re still going for that Pulitzer,” said Teeny. “I like that. You’ll get one soon. I think probably next month.”
“They only give out one a year,” said Liz.
“Well you know what I mean,” said Teeny.
I leaned back in my chair and felt my vertebrae relax a little. I hadn’t realized how tense the Old Dancing Bear and the large Russian man had made me. “So what’s up, Liz? What do you need to talk about?”
Liz leaned forward and whispered. “You like this disguise, right? I think it’s my best one yet. The fat suit cost me two grand but I think it was worth it.”
“Two thousand dollars?!” I looked down as Liz glared at me. “I mean, wow. That cheap, huh?”
“It’s a fine disguise,” said Teeny, “but I can’t believe you put on all that weight and don’t even get to enjoy any of the calories.”
“If I actually ate the food and got fat it wouldn’t be a disguise anymore. I would just be fat.”
“Fine. It’s a good disguise,” said Teeny. “Well worth all that money. Not a waste at all.”
“Liz,” said Miss May in her most patient voice. “We all love the disguise. You did a great job and you fooled us. But I’m itching to find out if you have information that can help us catch this killer. Every second we’re here talking about your transformation into a grossly overweight Russian man is a second the murderer could be getting closer to claiming a second victim.”
Liz nodded. “Right. Well, I’m not here with information about the murderer. But I
do think I have something that might help… You know how Peter’s Land and Sea has been really popular the last couple months?”
We nodded. Teeny cringed. She knew better than anyone.
“Yeah. Well apparently the food there has been making people sick. It’s been happening pretty consistently over the past few weeks.”
“Sick how?” I asked.
“Like really sick. Vomiting and everything.”
I adjusted my position in my seat. “That’s strange. I haven’t heard anything about people getting sick. And the restaurant has only gotten more popular from one weekend to the next.”
“That’s what I’m saying,” said Liz. “I found a few sources who confirmed that there had been illnesses that can be traced back to the restaurant. A significant number of illnesses. But I had to do serious investigative journalism just to gather that kernel of information, which is strange because usually when a restaurant makes someone sick, everyone finds out fast, especially in Pine Grove. Remember when everyone got Divola-ed?”
“Of course,” I said. “Poor Divola’s is still recovering.”
“It is curious that none of us have heard a peep about food poisoning or sickness from Petey’s,” said Miss May. “I don’t suppose you can reveal who your sources are?”
Liz shook her big, old, Russian head. Her fake jowls wobbled. “Not a chance.”
Miss May scratched her chin. “It seems to me if the food was making people sick but no one talked about it… That means someone was keeping people quiet somehow.” She looked up at Liz. “This is a real conspiracy.
“I knew that dirty rat wasn’t the world-class chef he pretended to be,” said Teeny.
“Teeny,” I said, “I thought you were only saying nice things about Buck.”
“Sorry. Um… I knew that amazing man was going to poison people… No. It doesn’t work because I can’t pretend the food isn’t poisoning people. Sorry. In this case, he’s a Rat King.”
Liz leaned forward. “Do you think this will help with your investigation?”
Miss May nodded. “It’s an interesting development. And it gives me a lot of ideas about what we may need to do next.”
30
The Proof is in the Poisoned Pudding
“Unfortunately, this further strengthens Petey’s motive for the murder.” Miss May pushed open the door to a little organic market in Kingston and stepped inside. Teeny and I followed.
“I thought the same thing. If Buck was making people sick at Petey’s restaurant and hiding it… That would have made Petey pretty angry.” I said. “But you think Liz’s sources are reliable? I mean, it’s all hearsay.”
“She hasn’t led us in the wrong direction before, so for now let’s assume she was reporting accurate information.” Miss May pointed to the back of the store. “Look. There’s a little sandwich counter back there. Maybe we can grab a bite before we head home.”
I looked around the market and for the first time registered my surroundings. The place was small. Cluttered with organic, healthy snacks and healthy meat substitutes, like chick’n cutlets made from soy protein. There was a small produce area with fresh fruits and vegetables, which all seemed refreshingly irregular in shape and color. And, just as Miss May had pointed out, there was a small sandwich counter in the back with an eclectic, handwritten menu. “Sure. I could go for a snack. I also want to know more about what you think about Buck and the restaurant and the low-key food poisoning epidemic.”
“OK,” said Miss May. “So let’s assume Buck’s food really made people sick. Maybe Buck somehow convinced the first batch of people not to tell anyone. But he’s been a chef a long time. He knows better than anyone that word gets out. So, maybe he decided to make a run for it because he knew the food poisoning scandal was going to ruin his reputation. I think Buck quit Peter’s Land and Sea because he wanted to leave town and get a new job before word of his rotten cooking made it out of Pine Grove.”
Teeny shook her head. “If you’ve got a restaurant and your food makes people sick, it’s not good. If one of my cooks was irresponsible enough to use bad ingredients, I’d be mad. Real mad.”
Miss May nodded. “I know. It’s hard to recover from something like that. Like with Divola’s. It takes years to rehabilitate your image, even if only one or two people are affected. Imagine if Petey found out that Buck’s cooking had made so many customers sick at the restaurant? I think Petey would get mad too. The kid is emotional. Impulsive. Soft-hearted maybe, but I think he has a temper. Petey risked his reputation and spent his entire savings on Peter’s Land and Sea. Something like this could bankrupt any restaurant owner.”
“True, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” I said. “I want to think about all the angles.”
“What other angles do you see?” said Miss May.
“Buck has been a chef a long time,” I said. “What if his food has made people sick before? What if Buck’s cooking bankrupted the owner of a restaurant where he’d previously worked? Maybe Buck ruined someone’s business in some other town, and then he ran to Pine Grove to get a new job and hide in the country. But then Peter’s Land and Sea got popular and the owner of the previous restaurant found out, hunted Buck down, and killed him.”
Teeny turned down the sides of her mouth. “Makes sense to me. Guys like that, with all those tattoos, always have a checkered past. For goodness sake, I don’t even know Buck’s last name.”
“I thought Buck was his last name,” I said. “But I guess maybe Buck is a nickname. Maybe we don’t know any of his real names.”
“I hadn’t thought about it at all,” said Miss May. “But you do bring up a good point, Chelsea. If Buck bankrupted or otherwise damaged a previous restaurant, that owner might have carried out a vendetta. Or what if Buck’s cooking killed someone in his previous job? Maybe there’s an angry spouse left behind who wants revenge? This opens up a whole new world of possible suspects.”
“So we need to find out more about Buck’s cooking skills,” I said. “If he has made people sick at his previous jobs, then there might be a long list of revenge-seeking killers who wanted him dead. Or someone he sickened in Pine Grove might want him dead for the same reason.”
“Do either of you know where Buck worked before this?” asked Miss May, headed toward the sandwich counter in the back of the store.
“No idea,” Teeny said. “But I hope you’re in the mood for a vegetarian sandwich with lots of micro sprouts or whatever because that’s all this place has.”
“I’m in the mood for vegetarian all the time,” said Miss May. “I’m healthy, remember? I walked to Grandma’s.”
“I was there when you arrived,” said Teeny. “You were very tired.”
“It was a long walk.”
We took a break from our conversation to quickly order sandwiches, then we stepped aside and continued where we’d left off. “If we want to find out where Buck worked before Peter’s,” I said, “I bet you Petey knows.”
Teeny pointed at me with a little grin. “You’re right. I’ll get Petey on the phone.”
Miss May pulled a smart phone from her purse. “You sure you don’t want me to call? Petey seemed pretty upset with you yesterday.
“I told you, I don’t care about that. My feathers weren’t even a little bit ruffled.” Teeny dialed and waited. “Petey? Hi. It’s fine. Really, it’s fine.” She waited a few seconds and nodded as she listened. “You don’t have to apologize.”
Teeny laughed as Petey spoke. “Exactly. You’re too skinny and weak to take Chelsea in a fight. And you don’t know anything about karate. Anyway, enough small talk. We need to know where Buck worked before you hired him. What you mean you don’t know? Oh right. His resume was the fact that he cooked you a good omelette. Well do you have any information that might help us figure out where he worked before he came to Pine Grove? His last name is Johnson? Figures. Ugh. There must be a million Johnsons out— Oh, what? Really? Great. That’s exactly what I needed.”
/> Teeny hung up. “Buck Johnson studied at the renowned Culinary Institute of America.”
Miss May smirked. “That’s on our way home.”
Teeny mirrored Miss May’s smirk exactly. “I know.”
31
Cooking Up Trouble
The Culinary Institute of America was located along the Hudson River in a town called Hyde Park, New York. Like many of the towns along the Hudson, Hyde Park was rich with history and a plethora of beautiful homes to match. Perhaps Hyde Park’s most notable claim to fame was that the town had once been home to Franklin D. Roosevelt. As a result, there were several sites dedicated to Roosevelt, including a preserved historic home, a presidential library and a museum.
As I drove into the town, I kept getting distracted by the gorgeous foliage and stately old homes.
What is it about old houses that delight people so much?
For me, old buildings provided a sense of security, and a hopefulness about humanity. It’s comforting to see giant structures that had survived decades if not centuries of change. The structures, settled and sturdy, reminded me to remain calm and collected in stressful situations, because time presses on and there’s no point worrying about things you can’t control.
Miss May pointed me up a giant hill, which led directly to the Culinary Institute of America, a gorgeous campus often referred to as the ‘Majesty on the Hudson.’
My jaw dropped as we came upon manicured lawns and lush hillside. There had to be a hundred acres at least. Then we came to the main building, a five story brick structure with Greek or Roman columns flanking a gorgeous front door. As an interior designer, I should’ve known the difference between Doric, Ionic, and Corinthian columns but at that particular moment, I didn’t feel like using my brain to distinguish the details of the architecture. There was too much to look at.
The Smoking Bun (Apple Orchard Cozy Mystery Book 10) Page 12