Miss May sighed. “You need to get glasses, Tom!”
Tom looked up. “Will you leave me alone? What are you doing here?”
“I will not leave you alone. How will you do your job if you're blind? What is that you're reading with such tiny print, anyway?”
Tom lowered the paper. “If you must know,” he said, “I'm reading a printed-out email. As you may recall, I had some issues with email earlier this year, so I took it off my computer. Now Deb prints out my messages, then I handwrite my replies, and give them to Deb so she can type them in and send them.”
Miss May, Teeny, and I cracked up immediately. Teeny laughed so hard she had to grab a chair to steady herself. But Tom didn’t even smile. In fact, the more we laughed, the redder his face became.
“That makes my millennium! Tom! You are a lawyer. You can't control yourself? You can't stop yourself from sending threatening emails to your cable provider?” Miss May took deep breaths between laughs, trying to get a grip.
Tom straightened his shoulders. “I decided it's not worth the risk.”
Miss May stifled her laughter. “We're sorry. It's just...That is ridiculous.”
“I’m not sorry,” Teeny said, leaning against the chair.
“I'm glad I've entertained you,” Tom said. “But if you're just here to laugh at me, I'd like you to leave. The last seven emails I've read were spam, and I need to keep going in order to find the message I'm looking for.”
Teeny howled with laughter. “You print out the spam!?”
Tom crumbled the paper and threw it in the wastebasket. “Sometimes there are good deals!”
Tom stood up, fuming and tomato-red in the face. “What do you want!?”
Miss May, Teeny, and I took a moment to gather ourselves. Then Miss May spoke in a more serious tone. She explained that we were there to ask about Tom's dealings with Reginald Turtle. Tom refused to disclose any information. He wouldn't even tell us if Reginald was a client. Miss May wouldn't take no for an answer, but Tom was just as stubborn.
“I'm not asking for much,” Miss May said. “Please. Just answer a few questions.”
Tom shook his head. “You know I can't do that. You know better than anyone.”
“I also know that you owe me, Tom. Or have you already forgotten? You would be in jail if not for Chelsea and me.”
“Ahem,” Teeny said. “What am I, dog poop?”
“And Teeny,” Miss May amended.
“May, what you're asking me to do here could land me in jail again,” Tom said.
“Only if I turned you in myself,” Miss May said. “Tom. There is a killer out there. Yes. I am asking you to violate the trust of a client. I'm not proud of that. But I don't want you to carry the guilt if Reginald is a killer. Or if he kills again.”
Tom looked up. Thought for a long moment. Finally he let out a sigh and relented. “OK. You have one question. Pick a good one.”
Miss May took a moment, then asked her question...
“Did Reginald Turtle benefit financially from the murder of his wife, Linda?”
I STUMBLED OUT OF TOM's office like I was emerging from a six-hour movie. We’d only been inside for a few minutes, but during those few minutes, I felt like I’d forgotten what trees looked like. The street seemed unfamiliar. The sun shone too brightly. I blocked my eyes with my hand, then remembered I had my sunglasses. Once my shades were on, things came into sharper focus.
“Well, Gigley basically just told us Reginald did it,” I said.
“That's not true,” Miss May said. “All Tom did was confirm that Reginald had taken the policy out on Linda.”
“That's the same thing!” Teeny shook her head. “Men. Why are they all so greedy?”
I stopped walking as we reached the pickup. “That's not a fair assessment.” Or is it, I wondered.
I hadn't had much luck with men. My experience with Mike, the fiancé from you-know-where, had been a waking nightmare. He’d abandoned me and stolen my apartment and my business. So, OK, pretty greedy. But does one bad apple spoil the bunch? An age-old orchard dilemma.
“Don’t generalize, Teeny,” Miss May said. “Some men are great. Or so I've heard,” Miss May tugged on the passenger door. “Chels. Unlock this thing?”
“Sorry,” I said, as I unlocked the door. “Lost in thought.”
“Time to get found,” Teeny said. “This plot has gotten chunky.”
“Do you mean ‘the plot has thickened?’” I asked.
Teeny shook her head. “I said what I meant. We need a plan.”
We climbed in the car. I put the keys in the ignition and turned to Miss May and Teeny. “So? Where to?”
“What do you think, May?” Teeny asked. “You're the lady Sherlock. Light up your corncob pipe and hatch a plan.”
“Sherlock didn't smoke a corncob pipe,” I said, then cursed myself for being such a know-it-all sometimes. OK, all the time.
“Oh, whatever,” Teeny said. “Here’s what I think, if anybody cares. Ready?”
“Ready,” I said.
“OK,” Teeny said. “I think Reginald took out the policy on Linda and then killed her so he could get the money. It's obvious, right? So let's go get him! Drag him out of that crummy old flower house kicking and screaming!”
Miss May rubbed her chin. “As much as I love that plan, I'm not sure we can do that yet. We don't have any evidence.”
“Besides,” I said, “if we're headed to see the killer, we should probably call the cops. Right?”
“Cops aren't going to help us on this one, Chelsea,” my aunt reminded me. “Wayne’s tired of us showing him up.”
“Still,” I insisted, “they'll come if we call. It’s their job.”
“And if we screw up? If we're wrong? We're off the case. And every case. Forever.”
“Technically we’re not even supposed to be on the case now,” I said.
“But we are,” Miss May replied. “And if Wayne catches us snooping and shuts us down, that means no one would be looking out for KP. They'll just bring him to trial and let the jury decide.”
“I agree,” Teeny piped up. “Who needs the cops? We're a vigilante crime-fighting force! Let's go Turtle hunting!”
“Uh. I don't love the sound of that.” For a few different reasons.
Miss May waved me off. “Don’t worry, Chels. We’re not hunting anyone. We're just going to have a quick, casual conversation with Reginald about whether or not he murdered his wife to trigger an insurance payout.”
Teeny rubbed her hands together, eager for action. “Kick this puppy into gear, Chels! We've got a mission!”
I turned to Miss May. “Do you really think we should talk to Reginald Turtle...without even notifying the police?”
Miss May shrugged. “We don't have much choice.”
A roll of thunder shook the sky, and we all looked up.
“Better head out now,” Miss May said. “Sounds like rain.”
15
Late Summer Storms
AS A KID, I HAD ALWAYS loved playing in the rain, and I hadn’t been afraid of anything. A few times, against the explicit instructions of my parents, I had even gone swimming during a thunder storm. Stupid, but fun.
I know better than that now, I thought. It’s a shame that living sometimes comes at the cost of feeling the most alive.
As an adult, thunder storms made me nervous. And that afternoon, driving through a big storm on the way to Reginald's, my palms were so sweaty they slipped on the steering wheel.
I hunched over the wheel as I drove. And my eyes narrowed to slits as I struggled to see through the deluge. My wipers were in over their heads. And Miss May and Teeny’s incessant chatting about Reginald Turtle wasn’t helping.
“Can you two quiet down?” I snapped.
“Whoa!” Teeny laughed. “Is the new driver tense in inclement weather?”
“I’m not tense, but I can’t see my hand in front of my face, so stop talking so much!”
Miss M
ay laughed. “I think she’s tense.”
I made a glacial left turn onto Reginald's road. “Do you want me to crash?”
Miss May held up her hands in surrender. “Sorry. We’ll be quiet.”
I slowed as I approached Reginald's house. A tree had fallen in the street about 50 feet before his driveway, and there was no way around it.
“Great,” I said. “What we do now? Should we try to move it?”
“No way!” Teeny said. “Make the town do it. That's why we pay taxes.”
“I don’t know that our tax dollars are going to work that quickly,” I said. “What should I do in the meantime? Just park here, and we walk? We only have one umbrella.”
Miss May smirked. “And it's so kind of you to lend it to your old aunt and her even older friend.”
Teeny and Miss May strolled under their umbrella and laughed as I darted toward Reginald's house. At first, I hated the cold rain. But by the time I got to the driveway, I had completely forgotten my nerves, and I no longer felt tense or scared about seeing Reginald. Maybe that’s why I’ve always loved rain, I thought. Natural therapy.
Either way, by the time I got to the porch, I was feeling bolder than my typical self. I rang the bell, even though Teeny and Miss May were still walking up the driveway. And I eagerly waited for Reginald to answer the door.
But he did not answer. I rang again. Still, nothing.
Miss May closed the umbrella as she and Teeny joined me on the porch. “Where is this guy?” Miss May asked.
Teeny peered through a front window. “Not home? In this weather?”
I shrugged. “Maybe he got caught in the storm.”
“It's all dark in there,” Teeny said. “Maybe we should break in. Troll for clues. I'll go find a rock!”
“We don't need to break in," Miss May said. “We’re here to talk to Reginald, remember? Not steal his valuables.”
Teeny sighed. “You're can be so boring, May. What do you want to do then? Just sit here and wait?”
Miss May smiled. “Exactly.”
WHEN WE GOT BACK OVER to the pickup, Miss May insisted that we remove the tree that had been blocking the road. Teeny resisted, demanding that we refrain in order to “get the most out of our tax dollars.” But Miss May pointed out that there was nothing more conspicuous than sitting in a parked car right next to a fallen tree. And she had a point.
If anyone else came down that road, including Reginald, we would be a sitting truck. So, with much effort, grunting, and groaning, we dragged the tree over to the side of the road. By the time we were done, I was soaked to the marrow. But Teeny and Miss May managed to stay under the umbrella the whole time. Don't ask me how.
Twenty minutes later, we climbed back into the pickup, backed up 100 feet, killed the engine, and slinked down in our seats. Thus began our stakeout.
Five minutes into waiting, Teeny grew restless. She sat up and tapped Miss May on the shoulder. “You have any reading material?”
“No,” Miss May said. “Besides, we’re supposed to be watching.”
“Ugh. How about snacks? Got anything to eat in your purse?”
Miss May shook her head. “Not today. Sorry.”
Teeny huffed. “Come on! You always have something in that magical bag. Apple pie. Apple cookie. I'd even take just an apple if it's all you've got!”
Miss May held open her bag to prove that it was empty. Teeny flopped back in her seat with a pout. “Who goes on a stakeout without any snacks?”
“Technically,” I said. “We didn't know this was going to be stakeout. Otherwise, believe me, I would’ve packed snacks."
Three hours later, there was still zero indication of Reginald, and the mood on the stakeout had turned hangry. The rain continued to fall. A howling wind rose from the east. And the three of us were going stir crazy.
“Are you sure we can't break in?” Teeny asked. “There has to be something we can learn in that house. And this guy isn't coming home. He's out partying with Linda’s death fund!”
“Not a lot of midweek parties in Pine Grove,” I said. “But it does seem like he might be out for the night. Maybe he went back to the city to be among his fellow Turtles? Or whoever his original people are.” I turned to Miss May. “What do you think? Can we maybe try to go inside?”
Miss May rubbed her chin. “I don't know. If we get caught, the police are really going to be up our butts. We should probably play it safe.”
“We've got a killer on the loose,” Teeny said. “There's nothing safe about that. We've got to get in that house. Now.”
“But Teeny, we can't—”
“No buts! I'm going in.” Teeny jumped out of the pickup and stomped toward the house with her hands in her pockets.
Miss May followed. “Teeny! Slow down.”
I hung back in the car for a few seconds, unsure. Although I was the one who had originally suggested going inside the house, I had also spent the previous three hours fighting the urge to start up my truck and drive home and not come out again until next summer.
So yeah...I had conflicting emotions.
But Teeny was forcing the issue. Maybe that’s what I needed, I thought. So I climbed out into the angry night and ran back toward Reginald's house.
For the last time.
16
Reginald's Rainy Day
IF YOU’VE NEVER CREPT around the back of a suspected killer's house before, I wouldn’t recommend it. Especially not if you're following Miss May and Teeny, whose chattering did not cease, even in the middle of a break-in in the middle of a storm. Those two were so distracted by the details of Reginald's house, they seemed to forget where they were.
“These window boxes are beautiful,” Teeny said, as we edged down the side yard.
“I know,” Miss May said. “Probably left behind from when Petunia lived here.”
“I'm surprised she didn't take them with her,” Teeny said. “Wouldn’t put it past her.”
Miss May clucked her tongue. “Poor Petunia. I feel bad she lost this place. She loved it so much. And look at the latticework along the roof. Gorgeous.”
“Can we maybe stop talking for a minute?” I asked. “I’m damp and scared and we’re breaking about a billion laws.”
Miss May dismissed me with a wave of her hand. “Relax. Nobody's home, remember?”
We turned the corner and emerged into the backyard. A large pool had been sealed up for the season with a blue tarp. Moss obscured a beautiful brick patio. And a large barbecue rusted at the far end of the yard, rainwater dripping off its slipshod cover.
Petunia's old house looked beautiful from the back. There was more latticework and several sets of big glass windows. What a shame that this grand old home had fallen on such hard times.
A light on the very top floor caught my eye. I nudged Miss May and pointed. “Look. The whole house is dark, but there's a light on up there.”
Miss May squinted up at the light. “Could be nothing. Reginald doesn't seem like he's super into energy conservation.”
“True,” Teeny said. “Or it could be...something.” Teeny slowly turned toward Miss May. “We have to go check it out.”
Miss May sighed and capitulated. “I suppose we could try to get inside.”
“And if the cops catch us in there?” I asked.
Miss May shrugged. “We'll burn that bridge when we come to it.”
“Cross,” I muttered under my breath.
Miss May, Teeny, and I spread out along the back façade of the house to try to find an open door or window.
I tugged on a set of French doors over near the decaying grill, but they were locked.
After jiggling the handle several times, I cupped my hands and tried to get a look inside. But floral curtains, an obvious holdover from Petunia, obscured my views.
Snap! Crash!
The sound was so loud and calamitous, I lost my balance, stumbled back, and slammed into the wall. Miss May rushed over to me.
“Chelsea! Are y
ou OK?”
I looked around for the source of the crash. “What was that?”
Miss May chortled at my klutziness. “It was just a branch. See?”
Miss May pointed across the yard. A large branch had fallen from an oak tree and smashed into an outdoor table. The table had split in half like a karate-chopped cinderblock. I shook my head as I climbed to my feet. “Did we really have to do this during a storm?”
“Murder waits for no man,” Miss May said.
“Hey! Over here!” Teeny whisper-shouted from the side yard.
When we rounded the corner toward Teeny, she was gone. My mouth immediately dried out with panic. “Teeny! Where are you? Are you OK?”
Teeny's little blonde head poked out from a nearby window with a big smile. “Better than OK. You guys have to see this place!”
Teeny disappeared into the house. Miss May and I exchanged a nervous glance. Then Miss May climbed into the window, and I followed, prepared for the worst.
I FLOPPED INSIDE AFTER briefly getting my tummy snagged on the windowsill and landed with a thud on the hardwood floor.
Miss May helped me up, and I looked around. We were in a small but stately office, with 14-foot ceilings, an enormous built-in bookshelf, and a large oak desk shoved against the wall. Half the desk was covered in a painter’s tarp, as was much of the floor. I also noticed a buzzsaw and some other tools propped against the wall.
“It looks like they were renovating this room,” I said, speaking in a hushed whisper. “But it was already so beautiful.”
“I have a feeling Linda Turtle liked to make everything her own,” Miss May said. “But I agree. No wonder Petunia loved this house so much. Look at the moldings!”
Miss May was right. The moldings were ornate and quite large, with elaborate cornices at every joint. “They must be original to the house,” I said. “I want to steal them.”
Teeny tiptoed toward me. “Should we try to find that room that had the light?”
Miss May nodded. “And let's stay quiet in the rest of the house. I don't have a good feeling in here. You two ready?”
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