Shot Through the Tart

by Chelsea Thomas

  “How’s it going?” I asked, as Steve playfully rushed up and tried to play with an unreceptive See-Saw.

  “Ah,” KP grumbled. “The little pony’s mad at me. You and May have been out so much, I’ve been splitting my time between that limpy dog and this ol’ girl. She doesn’t care for it when I don’t pay enough attention to her.”

  I grinned. “Poor See-Saw. She’s not the only cute animal on the farm anymore.” As if to prove my point, Steve rolled over, his tongue lolling, and sneezed an adorable, squeaky sneeze.

  See-Saw snorted and KP patted her on the head. “She’ll be alright,” he said. Steve popped up and started to lick See-Saw’s short leg. See-Saw looked down at him thoughtfully but didn’t move away. I liked to think in her heart of hearts, See-Saw couldn’t help but admit Steve was pretty cute.

  After a few more minutes of Steve trying to frolic with See-Saw and See-Saw gently rebuffing him, KP and I parted ways and Steve and I went back to the farmhouse.

  Miss May was waiting for me by the front door, ready to go over to Peter’s Land and Sea to verify Dorothy’s alibi. I gave Steve his breakfast, which he finished before I’d even left the kitchen. Then I headed out to the VW bus and Miss May chunked the car into gear.

  We were both pretty groggy from our late night the previous evening, so we didn’t make a lot of small talk on our way into town. But details of the investigation swirled through my mind like cows in a Kansas tornado, and finally I couldn’t take it — I had to start speaking my thoughts out loud.

  “It would be weird if Dorothy were lying about this alibi.”

  Miss May turned up the hill that led toward Peter’s Land and Sea. “I agree. If she wasn’t actually there, no one on Petey’s staff is going to lie to us about it.”

  “I suppose it’s still good to do our due diligence.”

  Miss May nodded. “Exactly. Dorothy seemed…off last night. She’s seemed a little off the whole time I’ve known her, in fact. And we should never underestimate any of our suspects.”

  “I know,” I said.

  “That’s part of what makes us such effective sleuths,” Miss May said. “That and the fact that we work in such a slow and methodical manner.”

  I shrugged. “It’s slow and methodical until it’s not slow and methodical anymore.”

  Miss May nodded. “That’s true. At a certain point the clues begin to pile up, don’t they? And then it’s like a snowball rolling down a mountain — out of our control.”

  I visualized a snowball filled with murder weapons and other clues, growing in size as it sped down a steep slope. Weird mental image, but accurate. Sometimes, our investigations picked up so much momentum that they really were unstoppable.

  Miss May pulled into the restaurant parking lot and looked around. “Only a couple cars here this morning.”

  “Park in front.” I pointed to the spot near the entrance. “Might as well take the best spot in the parking lot since there’s almost no one else here.”

  Miss May shook her head. “It’s too bad. I bet people are staying away from this place because of our investigation. Everyone knows there was drama here between Adam and Germany. I bet you if Dorothy’s alibi is true, word has gotten out that she came here during the play. Locals probably think the place has bad juju right now or something.”

  “Wow. You say juju now?” I asked. Miss May, ever the pragmatist, was not a woman prone to abstract concepts like “juju,” “mojo,” or “vibes.”

  Miss May smirked. “Trying it out. We’ll see.”

  We entered the restaurant and looked around. Sure enough, only three tables were occupied. The place was quiet but the sounds of forks and knives on ceramic plates felt deafening.

  Petey’s uncle, Jefferson Nebraska, approached with a smile. “Ladies. Welcome back.”

  “Thanks.” Miss May looked around the restaurant. “Have things been slowing down around here since what happened to Adam?”

  Jefferson let out a deep breath. His exhale was so forceful, I felt like he’d been holding it in for years. “That’s right. I hope it blows over, for Pete’s sake. The restaurant can’t stay open if business is like this.”

  I chuckled. “Sorry,” I said. “Slow business isn’t funny. It’s just, you said, ‘for Pete’s sake.’”

  Jefferson stared at me blankly. “That’s his name. Pete.”

  “No, I know,” I said. “But for Pete’s sake… Oh, nevermind.”

  “I’m sure it’s going to turn around,” said Miss May, mercifully bailing me out. “The same thing happened up at the orchard when we found a body there. People in town got spooked. But if the place is good, the customers always return. And after awhile, I think the drama actually boosted sales in a weird way. Mystery brings curious onlookers, you know.”

  Jefferson nodded. “Can I show you ladies to your table?”

  “We’re not here to eat.” Miss May looked both ways to make sure no one was listening. “We’re here to talk. Were you working the night Adam Smith was killed?”

  Jefferson bristled. “Why are you asking me that? I didn’t even know the guy. Suddenly I’m a suspect?”

  Miss May give Jefferson a small smile. “No. You’re not a suspect. We’re here following up on an alibi.”

  “Oh,” said Jefferson. “I was alone on the floor that night. Business was slow because everyone in town was at the performance. But I’d be happy to tell you everything I know.”

  Jefferson pulled out a couple seats at a nearby table. “Take a seat. Let’s talk.”

  Miss May held up her hand. “We don’t need to sit down. To be frank, I only need the answer to one question.”

  Jefferson raised his eyebrows, waiting for Miss May to continue.

  “Was Dorothy Smith here the night of the performance?”

  “Let me think,” said Jefferson. “Is that the tall women with the sharp features? Very beautiful? High cheekbones?”

  Miss May nodded.

  “She’s aged well,” I said. “I hope I have skin like her when I get old. Not that she’s old. I’m sorry. You can answer the question. Go ahead.”

  Once again, Jefferson stared at me blankly. He and I were not on the same wavelength.

  “Was Dorothy here on Friday night?” asked Miss May.

  Jefferson nodded. “She was here. She ordered finger lake filled with whiskey. Seemed like she was drowning her sorrows. But for what’s it worth, even if her alibi was false, I would still think Dorothy’s innocent.”

  “Really?” Miss May looked at Jefferson over the top of her glasses. “What’s your theory?”

  Jefferson leaned in and whispered. “Zambia seems guilty, if you ask me.”

  “Have you noticed her doing anything suspicious?” Miss May asked.

  Jefferson scoffed. “I’ve always been suspicious of Zambia. May, you’ve live here forever, right? Don’t you remember what a mess this town was when she was mayor?

  Miss May closed her eyes for a few seconds then opened them. “I remember.”

  Jefferson turned to me. “Zambia was the worst mayor in the history of mayors. She was sketchy and untrustworthy. Living here during her time in office was horrible.”

  “That’s very extreme,” snapped Miss May. “No need to dredge up such ancient history, alright?”

  “Wow. Sorry.” Jefferson took a step back from Miss May. “You don’t need to get snippy with me.”

  Miss May sighed. “No. I’m sorry. I’ve got a lot on my mind. And I just… I know Zambia wasn’t perfect as mayor…but I don’t want to talk about it.”

  A party of five entered the restaurant and waited by the host stand. Jefferson noticed them and acknowledged them with a small nod. “Got any more questions? If not, I should seat these people.”

  “No more questions. Thank you for your help.”

  Miss May looked after Jefferson as he limped over to help the party of five. My aunt was distracted and lost in thought. I put my hand on her shoulder.

  “Are you OK? Why�
��d you get so upset about Zambia?”

  “Nothing. It’s fine.” Miss May brushed off her coat and exited the restaurant in a hurry. I looked after her. Something was wrong and I needed to figure out what.

  31

  Old News

  As we exited Peter’s Land and Sea, I could practically see a dark cloud hanging over Miss May’s head. Her mouth was in a deep frown, her hands were clenched, and her stride was brisk and stiff.

  I wanted to know why my aunt had gotten so upset in the restaurant when Jefferson brought up Zambia’s term as mayor. But Miss May wasn’t in the mood to talk. She dismissed my concern and insisted that nothing was wrong. When I pressed her, she awkwardly changed the topic.

  She told me she had forgotten to take care of some important business at the orchard. I protested, but Miss May insisted that we had to get back to the farm pronto so that she could have an emergency meeting with KP.

  When we got home, Miss May disappeared into her office and buried her head in the computer. But I couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened back at Peter’s Land and Sea. There was more to the story of Zambia’s time as mayor of Pine Grove. And I wanted to find out what it was. If I was a cat, my curiosity would definitely be killing me.

  I poked my head into Miss May’s office with a small smile. “I’m going to head to town for a cup of coffee. Do you want anything?”

  Miss May barely looked up from her computer. “I’m fine. Just made a mistake with the crop rotation this year. Need to figure out which apples we’re harvesting and when. I’m sure it’s going to work out. Sorry I’m cranky.”

  “OK. And we’ll talk about the investigation later?”

  Miss May nodded. “Have fun in town.”

  I headed out to the driveway, where I hoisted myself up into my light blue pickup truck. I hadn’t done a ton of driving before moving back to Pine Grove, so this truck almost felt like my first car, and I had a deep affection for it.

  As I drove to the Brown Cow, I thought about Miss May’s demeanor. I’d only seen her get secretive like this a handful of times, and usually it was about her status with the New York State Bar Association, or…about my parents. I knew from Detective Wayne Hudson that my aunt had long suspected my parents’ death was not purely accidental. She’d done some digging back around the time that they died, but she never spoke to me about that. I wondered what was going on with her now…

  I parked absentmindedly on the street and ambled into the Brown Cow. I ordered my cup of coffee but didn’t make much small talk with Brian while I waited. I was too caught up in my own thoughts. Across the street I noticed Liz, the editor of the Pine Grove Gazette, entering her office.

  I approached Liz’s office quietly and announced my presence with a small knock. She was sitting behind her sturdy, oak desk, as I expected she would be.

  “Chelsea. Where is Miss May?”

  “Orchard business.”

  Liz slowly closed her laptop. “Are you here to talk about your investigation? I’d rather not consult with you unless Miss May is here.”

  “I’m not here to talk about the case. At least… I don’t think so.”

  Liz raised her eyebrows. “Is this a social call? I never thought you liked me. Most people don’t like me until they get to know me. Then they love me forever. Especially men. Sometimes it can be a burden.”

  I shifted my weight. The truth was, I did like Liz, but she was kind of intimidating. “This isn’t quite a social call, either. I do like you, though. You’re weird in a good way.”

  Liz nodded. “Thank you. So are you. What can I help you with?”

  “I’m wondering if you have any information about Pine Grove back in the 90’s… When Zambia was mayor.”

  “Zambia. So this is about your investigation.”

  I shrugged. “I really don’t know. Trust me. This is extracurricular, as far as I’m concerned. I never even knew she was mayor until this investigation. But people keep being weird about it.”

  “As you know, Chelsea, you and I are the same age. I wasn’t around when Zambia was mayor, either. I mean, I was around. But I wasn’t paying attention. I’ve tried to learn about those years in our town but the bookkeeping was horrendous. Most of the newspapers from then were never digitized and I can’t find the files.”

  I hung my head. “So there’s no official record of Zambia’s term as mayor?”

  “Unfortunately, no. But I think I can connect you with the next best thing…”

  Liz smirked, stood and pulled on her jacket. “Follow me.”

  Ten minutes later we were standing in the vestibule of Grandma’s, Teeny’s restaurant. Teeny smiled and rushed over to give me a hug. “Chelsea. Long time, no see. Where is Miss May?”

  I shook my head. “Nobody wants to hang out with me if I’m by myself.”

  “That’s not true,” said Teeny. “It’s just… I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you by yourself before. You two are like peas in a bod.”

  Peas in a pod, I thought, but I kept it to myself.

  “We’re here conducting research,” said Liz. “Research about the history of Pine Grove.” Liz stood on her tippy-toes and scanned the seating area of the restaurant. “Is Humphrey at his table?”

  Teeny smiled. “Yup. And he’s not going to leave for another four hours, at least. Got Semolina the hound dog hiding under there, too. He thinks I don’t know he brings his dog. I know. Come on. Follow me.”

  Humphrey, a grouchy old man with a droopy old hound dog named Semolina, was one of Teeny’s regulars. Humphrey had been a suspect in our last investigation, mostly because of his strong desire to hold the position as the town’s Santa Claus. But that’s a whole other story.

  As we crossed the restaurant, Liz explained that Humphrey had worked as the editor of the Gazette in the 90’s. She assured me that Humphrey would know more about Zambia’s time as mayor than anyone else.

  Teeny led us over to Humphrey’s table in the back corner of the restaurant. He was asleep, with his head down on a newspaper. A puddle of drool leaked out the corner of his mouth and he snored loudly.

  “He’s been asleep for about an hour,” said Teeny. “Good luck waking him up.”

  Teeny hurried back into the kitchen. Liz gestured at Humphrey like he was a five-star meal. “OK. That man right there knows everything that happened in Pine Grove in the 90’s.”

  Humphrey sat straight up and wiped the drool from his mouth. I yelped, startled by the suddenness of his awakening. Liz pressed her hand to her chest and laughed.

  “I don’t know everything,” Humphrey said, as alert as if he’d been mid-conversation with us. “What’s the big idea? Why are you interrupting my nap?”

  Liz kept laughing. “Humphrey! You scared us.”

  “You scared me, right out of a deep sleep!” Humphrey glared at me. “Where’s Miss May?”

  “She’s back at the farm,” said Liz. “And Chelsea doesn’t appreciate that no one wants to hang out or talk to her unless Miss May is around.”

  “I didn’t say that,” I said. I took a step toward Humphrey. “Is it OK if we sit for a second?”

  “Sure. Sit.”

  Liz and I slid into the booth across from Humphrey. I heard Semolina grunting and licking her lips beneath the table. I assumed we’d probably interrupted her nap too.

  “So you’re here to pick my brilliant brain about ye old Pine Grove? What do you want to know?”

  “I was hoping you could tell me something about Zambia’s term as mayor,” I said. “It came up earlier and Miss May acted a little odd. Did something happen when Zambia was mayor? Was there a scandal? Something like that?”

  Humphrey wrinkled his face even more than its natural state, which was pretty wrinkled. “Did you just find out Zambia was mayor of Pine Grove?”

  I nodded. “Yeah.”

  “That’s weird.”

  I looked over at Liz. She shrugged. “Weird? Why is that weird?”

  Humphrey took a big bite of bacon. �
�Because Zambia was your parents’ best friend. They were basically the reason she got elected.”

  The blood drained from my face. I felt dizzy. I put my palms face down on the table to steady myself. I wasn’t sure why, but for some reason, learning such a significant detail about my parents stunned me. “Was Zambia mayor when…”

  Humphrey nodded. “That’s right. Zambia was mayor of Pine Grove when your parents died.”

  32

  Horsing Around

  I attempted to squeeze Humphrey for more information but he had a “bathroom emergency” and had to leave the table. Then I headed back to the kitchen to talk things over with Teeny but she was too busy putting out a literal fire to chat.

  Teeny’s cooking was consistently delicious, but her kitchen was on fire more than one might expect. When I went back to my booth, Liz was on the phone with a source for another story. She held up her finger like, “We’ll talk in one minute,” but I could tell her call was going to take a while.

  I looked around the restaurant. A young couple played with their baby. Teenage boys threw French fries at one another. Everyone was having a good time but I felt all alone.

  Alone without Teeny. Alone without Miss May. Alone without my parents. I needed a friend, and there was only one place left to turn. Only one unconditional, loyal, steadfast listener, and I knew she would be there for me in my time of need.

  I was talking, of course, about See-Saw.

  I entered the barn about twenty minutes later with a small smile on my face. Steve padded behind me, contentedly sniffing around the bundles of hay.

  See-Saw was busy devouring a big bucket of food, her tail wagging. I laughed when I saw her. She had such a peaceful energy, even when she was annoyed or jealous or eating. Her big horse eyes spotted me and she whinnied.

  I pulled up a stool and sat beside See-Saw as she ate. “Hey girl. Do you remember my parents? I don’t know if you came to the farm before or after they… Well, anyway…”