Ten minutes later, Miss May, Teeny, and I entered Big Jim’s magic shop. Miss May was holding the fresh pie out in front of her. Big Jim narrowed his eyes when he saw her. “No, no, no, Miss May. I’m not going to be questioned like a murderer in my shop. Not again. Leave the pie and get out.”
Miss May smirked. “If I go, the pie goes with me. And we’re not here to treat you like a suspect.” Miss May placed the pie down in front of Jim.
He took a big smell of it and his eyes rolled back in his head. “I bet that’s what you tell all the boys.” Big Jim winked at Teeny. “How’s it going, Teeny? Are you doing something new with your hair? Looks great.”
Teeny shook her head. “Nothing new. It’s been the same for the past ten years. But thanks for noticing. Now are you going to answer our questions or not?”
“It looks like you’re doing something new with it. Very nice.”
“Big Dan likes her hair, too,” said Miss May. “Remember, he got you that gift certificate for the fancy hair place?”
Teeny smiled. “Yeah. He’s the best. Mechanics are my type of man. Practical and level-headed. Good with their hands. Don’t have their heads up in the clouds. Not like magicians.”
“I’m not a magician,” said Big Jim. “I’m a businessman. And last time I brought my car to Big Dan, it came back with a whole new problem.”
“I don’t believe you,” I said. “Big Dan is a handy and reliable mechanic.”
Miss May stepped forward to defuse the tension. “Let’s calm down, everybody. Jim, you have an amazing fresh pie in front of you. You can eat it all right now if you want. We’re not here because we think you’re a suspect. We respect that you’re a businessman and we’re here with business questions.”
“Are your business questions related to the murder?”
Miss May shrugged. “We’re not sure. But can you show us the tarot decks you sell in this store?”
Big Jim guffawed. “Sure, I guess. My product is top of the line. Even the tarot cards. Beautiful, well-made. You buy a deck from me, you’ll never have to buy a deck again.”
Big Jim laid three decks of tarot cards out in front of us. The first two were nondescript. But, sure enough, the last deck was labeled, “The Eternal Deck.”
Miss May picked up the Eternal Deck. “These ones seem nice. Are they popular?”
“To be honest, none of them are popular. I don’t sell a lot of tarot cards. My best-selling products are all magic-based. Magic kits, magic hats, magic meatballs… You get it.”
“That makes sense.” I took the deck from Miss May. “These are beautiful, though. I would buy them if I was into that sort of thing.”
Jim walked back behind the counter, next to his stool. “If you ask me, I still think Sudeer murdered Beth. I guess you have evidence or whatever. But that guy gives me the creeps. He wanted Beth to leave him alone so he took drastic measures. That’s my theory.”
Miss May nodded. “And we appreciate your input. Any information helps. Solving murders is all about gathering information and making decisions.”
“So you need to know what kind of tarot cards I sell in my store? That’s vital information to this investigation?”
Miss May tilted her head from side to side. “We don’t know if it’s vital. We won’t know for a while, I don’t think. We just want to get the murderer off the streets as soon as possible.”
Jim sat on the stool. He groaned as he lowered his body. “We all do. Pine Grove is incredible in so many ways. These murders bring me down.”
Teeny looked down. “No, the murders aren’t a lot of fun.”
“I love my town. And I want to keep it safe,” Big Jim said. “So even if I’m wrong about Sudeer…if these tarot cards help you in any way, I’d be glad to have been of service. If you need anything else…”
“As a matter of fact, I think we could use a little more help from you,” said Miss May. “You’ve got a successful business here and you’ve been around a while. So I’m sure you have a great record-keeping system.”
Big Jim nodded. “That’s right. My point-of-sale system is top notch.”
“Amazing.” Miss May looked at me. “We need to work on a better point-of-sale system up at the orchard. We’ve been using the old family cash register for years.”
“It would be good to get all that digitized,” I said.
“It’s amazing,” said Jim. “I can email my receipts to the customers. I can send them promotions. It helps a lot.”
Miss May leaned on Big Jim’s counter. “Do you think you could look up this Eternal Deck for me? I would love to know if anyone has purchased these cards in the past couple weeks or even in the past month.”
“If it will help catch the killer, I’d be happy to.” Big Jim entered a search on his computer and scanned the results. “Like I said, I don’t sell a lot of tarot cards. I’ve only sold this pack once in the past six months.”
Miss May nodded. “Who bought it?”
Big Jim looked up and made eye contact with Miss May. “Lillian Edwards.”
37
Eternal Questions
We stumbled out of Big Jim’s magic shop, dumbfounded. Lillian Edwards had purchased the Eternal Deck from Jim. That meant she was our best suspect in the murder. So we needed to find her, fast.
The August sun was scorching hot that morning. The glaring heat was a reminder of the mounting tension in our investigation. It never felt good to have a killer roaming around in your general vicinity. It felt even worse on the hottest day of the year.
I wiped the sweat off my forehead and turned to Teeny and Miss May. “So we need to find Lillian Edwards. Should we go back to the bar?”
Miss May squinted against the sun. “We could try the bar. But I don’t think that’s going to work. If Lillian is the killer there’s no way she’s going to go back there. Not after running into you, Chelsea. Especially not after her paranoid behavior.”
“I guess you’re right,” I said. “She’s probably in hiding somewhere if she’s actually guilty of this murder.”
“Something doesn’t add up, though,” said Teeny. “I thought Lillian was all upset in the bar because she claimed to know who had killed Beth. Why would she have talked that way if she were the killer?”
“Let’s not forget she was on a temporary reprieve from the mental institution.” Miss May put on her sunglasses. “I support mental healthcare, of course, and I’m not trying to judge anyone for their struggles…but I also know that mental illness can disrupt a person’s perception of reality. So, I’d take anything Lillian said with a grain of salt.”
I nodded. “That’s a good point. It’s possible she was talking about herself when she referenced the killer. Maybe she was in the middle of some kind of confession, like…her guilt was compelling her to talk about the murder she had committed in an indirect way.”
“OK. It seems to me we need to find her house.” Teeny pulled a bottle of water from her purse and took a big sip. “Can we blast the air conditioning in the car during our search? It’s got to be 100° out here.”
“It’s in the 90’s for sure,” I said. “I didn’t realize it was going to be such a scorcher. Murder investigations distract me from the weather. But this is in-your-face heat.”
Miss May chuckled. “Murder investigations are distracting. That’s why I’m happy we got those peach pies done this morning.”
“Still getting good orders?” Teeny asked.
Miss May shrugged. “Yeah, which is great, considering there’s been another murder in town. I suppose people like to have their summer comfort foods when they’re feeling anxious or stressed.”
“Are you totally overwhelmed?” Teeny winced.
“Not totally,” said Miss May. “Why are you wincing?”
“I need to order ten pies for the restaurant. People keep asking for your peach pie and I feel bad I ran out.”
Miss May laughed. “OK. We’ll bake a new batch and get it to you as soon as we can. But it m
ight have to wait until after we find this killer.”
Teeny crossed the parking lot and headed toward Miss May’s yellow VW bus. “Then let’s find this killer fast. People need their peaches! Especially my sister, Peach. She’s taken personal offense that she can’t get her namesake pie at my restaurant.”
Fifteen minutes later and we were cruising through the tiny town of Blue Mountain, New York. We didn’t have a plan for how to find Lillian’s house and we had no idea where she lived. But Miss May insisted that she could use her small-town charm to get us Lillian’s address. My aunt pulled up to a general store, the only store in town, and hopped out. “Alright. I’ll be back.”
“I’m coming,” I said. “Snacks from roadside general stores are the best kind of snacks.”
The general store was quaint and surprisingly high-end. There were fancy bags of local sundries. Farm fresh cheeses. Lots of delicious produce.
I grabbed a bag of dried apples. Miss May picked out a granola bar from a local kitchen. And we headed to the counter to check out. The man working the cash register had to be three hundred years old. He was hunched over and he was on a respirator but he lit up with a smile as we approached.
“Welcome to Blue Mountain General. Don’t recognize the two of you beautiful ladies. I see you picked out some of our finest sundries.”
Miss May smiled. “That’s right. We drove all the way up here from Virginia to see an old friend. Need to grab some snacks before we surprise her. But you’ll never believe what happened…”
“I’m sure I won’t,” the man rasped.
“I had her address on my smartphone. The phone got us all the way to Blue Mountain. Then I ran out of battery so I lost her address! I don’t know what we’re going to do. Knock on every door in town?”
“That’s one option,” said the old man. “You can probably knock on every house within a few hours’ time. Not a lot of residents here. Or you could let me know who it is you’re looking for and maybe I can help.”
“That second option sounds great,” said Miss May. “It’s hot out there, and going door to door sounds pretty miserable. We’re looking for Lillian Edwards.”
The man furrowed his brow. “Lillian Edwards? That’s Janet’s daughter. I’m afraid she hasn’t lived in town for almost ten years. She…went away.”
“That’s right,” said Miss May. “I knew she had spent some time… I knew she had some issues… But I heard she had been back in town recently. That’s why we came up to see her.”
“I haven’t heard anything about Lillian being back in town.” The old man’s eyes hardened. Seems that he didn’t appreciate Miss May’s allusion to Lillian’s hospitalization. Some small-town people loved to gossip. Others thought it was the ultimate sign of disrespect.
“OK.” Miss May handed the man a ten dollar bill with a small head nod. “Thank you for your time. Please keep the change.”
The man took the money. We left. Although we had delicious snacks in our possession, we were no closer to finding Lillian Edwards or solving the mystery of who killed Beth.
38
Sweating Weather
Miss May and I piled back into the front of the bus to find Teeny with her face smashed against the air-conditioning vent. She slumped over with relief when she saw us. “At last, you’re back. I was running out of cold air in here. The air conditioning got 5° hotter every minute you were in there. Turn on the engine. Now. Before I sweat to death. This is real…sweating weather. Like sweater weather but with sweating instead of sweaters. Chelsea, I’m surprised you’re not drenched.”
“I’m more of a nervous sweater,” I said. “But thanks, Teeny.”
Miss May turned on the engine with a sigh. Teeny glanced over, concerned. “What’s wrong? Small-town charm finally failed you?”
“I think our collective brain failed us, this time.” Miss May backed out of the parking lot. “It doesn’t make any sense to try to find out where Lillian Edwards lives. She just got out of the mental hospital, remember? She doesn’t have a house in town anymore. She might be staying with someone but there’s no way she has a permanent address.”
“So did you ask the employee in there who Lillian is staying with?” Teeny asked. “That’s easy enough.”
Miss May shook her head. “Not as easy as it sounds. The elderly gentleman in there isn’t much for gossip. He was nice, but I think he thought we were snooping.”
“We are snooping.” I opened my bag of apple chips and popped one in my mouth.
Teeny leaned forward. “Yum. Apple chips. What’d you get me?”
I froze, my second apple chip suspended inches from my mouth. “Um… We got you a snack. Of course we did. We’re always thinking of you.”
Teeny nodded. “I know. You two are the best. Kind. Considerate. Thoughtful. So what did you get me?”
I cringed and extended the bag of apple chips toward Teeny. “These apple chips?”
Teeny hung her head. “You forgot me. I’m lucky you came out before I died from heat exhaustion in the car.”
I laughed and offered the apple chips to Teeny once again. “Just take a handful.”
Teeny took the bag with a smile. “I’ll let you know when I’m ready to share.”
Miss May, Teeny, and I laughed. Teeny inspected the label on the back. “Hey. This is from McIntosh Farms. May, don’t you know the lady who runs the place?”
“I know all the orchard owners in the tri-state area. Mrs. McIntosh is a sweetheart.”
“I bet she is.” Teeny ate an apple chip. “She makes a great apple chip, too. Why don’t you sell apple chips at your orchard?”
“We do,” said Miss May.
Teeny responded with a mouthful. “Oh.”
“Hold on a second.” I looked at Miss May. “You know the owner of a local orchard in Blue Mountain?”
Miss May nodded.
“In my experience owners of community gathering spaces like that have tons of information. I mean, at least that’s true for me and you.”
Miss May looked over at me. “Go on…”
“So why don’t we pay your friend Mrs. McIntosh a visit? She might have up-to-date information about Lillian’s whereabouts. At the very least, we can buy a fresh bag of these apple chips since Teeny is going to eat all of mine.”
“I like that idea,” said Miss May.
Teeny handed the bag of apple chips back to me. There were only a few left. “More apple chips sound good to me.”
We rolled up to McIntosh farms just a few minutes later. The place was beautiful. It wasn’t more beautiful than the Thomas Family Fruit and Fir Farm. Not by a long shot. But it was charming in a different way. The orchard was smaller. And the farmhouse, where Mrs. McIntosh lived, was all the way in the back along the shore of a tiny pond. Ducks floated in the pond and a matronly woman, somewhere in her 60’s, tossed out bits of bread for them to eat. Miss May laughed when she saw the woman. “That’s Mrs. McIntosh. Always feeding those ducks.”
Miss May honked the horn. Mrs. McIntosh looked over and gave us a big wave. She turned away from the pond and met us in the driveway to the farmhouse with her hands on her hips.
“Mabel. What are you doing in Blue Mountain?”
Miss May smiled and hugged Mrs. McIntosh. “Just saying hi.”
“You used to come by here once a month, at least. It’s been too long. I’m mad at you.”
“You are not mad at me.”
“I should be.” Mrs. McIntosh gestured to me and Teeny. “Who are these beautiful young ladies?”
“This is my best friend, Teeny. And that’s Chelsea, my niece.”
Mrs. McIntosh smiled at us. “So I’ve got all three amateur detectives here.” She shot a glance over at Miss May. “That’s right. I keep up with all the big news in Pine Grove. You three are incredible. Oh no. Don’t tell me someone in Blue Mountain died?”
“Not quite,” I said. “Sort of…”
Mrs. McIntosh was concerned. “How can someone not qui
te die? Either you’re dead or you’re alive.”
Miss May chuckled. “You make a good point.”
“Stop right there,” said Mrs. McIntosh. “We’re going to talk. I would love to talk. But you’re guests on my orchard. That means you need apples.”
Miss May protested. We were there for an investigation. But Mrs. McIntosh wouldn’t discuss anything until we joined her in her kitchen for some fresh apple crumble. Well, freshish. It wasn’t apple picking season yet, so the crumble was made with apple preserves. Nonetheless, Teeny and I were fine with it. And I secretly think Miss May was, too.
Mrs. McIntosh’s kitchen was straight from the pages of Architectural Digest. My interior design brain was having a field day as I looked around the charming, elegant space. There was a sunken sink. There were exposed copper pipes. There was a rustic, wooden table right in the center of the room. Honestly, the place reminded me a lot of Miss May’s farmhouse. I missed staying there and I hoped we could find the killer soon so we could return home.
“I always forget how wonderful your house is,” said Miss May. “And you’ve got the time to have apple crumble in the oven?”
Mrs. McIntosh laughed. “I don’t do peaches. This is my off-season. I make desserts with apple preserves, and I read books. I’ve discovered this beautiful hobby called relaxation. You should try it sometime.”
Miss May laughed again. “That’s good advice. Especially when I’ve got Chelsea to pick up the slack. What do you think, Chelsea? Can you handle the peach harvest and I’ll come up here and hang out with Mrs. McIntosh in the summer months?”
“You won’t even let me make the pie dough for the peach pie! You want me to handle the entire harvest?” We all cracked up laughing as we dug into the apple crumble.
Oh… My… Goodness… Apple crumble. Mrs. McIntosh knocked it out of the orchard. The crumbles on top were doughy and crispy and rich with butter and cinnamon. And the layer of apple preserve was like velvet in my mouth. It took every ounce of willpower in my body not to grab entire handfuls from the pan and shove them in my pockets for later.
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