Cooking the Books

by Chelsea Thomas

A gust of wind swirled the snow around the fawn and it stopped and looked around, its face a mixture of wonder and fear. I feel that, little deer. I feel that exactly.

  The morning was beautiful and crisp. But there was a warm anxiety in my gut that I couldn’t ignore.

  “Miss May?” She didn’t hear me, so I called out louder, “Miss May!”

  She stopped and turned back, eyebrows raised.

  “What are we going to say to this guy? When we see him? Like... what’s the plan?”

  Miss May shrugged. “I was just going to wing it.”

  “You want to ‘wing it?’ With a potential murderer?”

  “Well, yeah.” Miss May squinted and put on a pair of sunglasses. “Don't worry. I'll be gentle. He won’t know what I want.”

  “Your aunt’s great at that.” Teeny scooped up a handful of snow and sniffed it. Her expression said, “yep, smells like snow.”

  “I know,” I said. “But I’m nervous.”

  Miss May walked over and took my gloved hand in hers. “We’re almost at the inn. Let’s keep going and play it by ear. If anything seems unsafe, we’ll back out.”

  I looked up. Miss May smiled to reassure me. “OK,” I said.

  “I don’t want to back out!” Teeny tossed the snow she had sniffed on the ground. “Come on! You two did the whole first one without me! The danger’s the fun part.”

  “None of it’s supposed to be fun,” Miss May said. “It’s a murder.”

  Teeny hitched up her pants. “Whatever.” She kept walking towards the inn, kicking snow to make a point as she went.

  Miss May turned back to me. “This guy’s got no reason to hurt us. We’re just asking a few questions.”

  I looped my red circled scarf over my head like a hood. I caught a glimpse of myself in the window of a parked car. I look like Little Red Riding Hood.

  I just hoped I wasn’t on my way to see the Big Bad Wolf.

  ON A NORMAL DAY, THE Dragonfly Inn was a postcard-perfect image of a small-town bed-and-breakfast. It was a three-story colonial with a small pond out front and a cobblestone drive that transported you to simpler times. The whole place made you want to go inside, have a cup of tea, and read a good book.

  On that day, however, the scene was far from postcard-perfect.

  Maybe that was because of all the cop cars that had been parked out front, or the police tape that cordoned off the little pond.

  On that day, the Dragonfly Inn was a crime scene.

  I figured the yellow tape and PGPD cars (with their stupid bubble letter font) meant one of two things: either something had happened to our lucky boat winner or our lucky boat winner was the killer and he had struck again.

  Miss May, Teeny, and I slowed our pace as we saw the cop cars.

  Teeny’s eyes widened. “What the heck’s going on!? Do you see Peach? Is Peach OK!?”

  Miss May’s eyes darted from one cop car to the next. “I’m sure whatever this is, it’s about the boat guy, not her.” She turned to Teeny. “Check your phone. Did she call or text or anything?”

  Teeny patted her pockets. “Shoot! I forgot it at home!” Teeny turned back to us with panic in her eyes. “I need to go find out if Peach is OK!”

  Teeny hurried toward the inn. After a few steps, she broke into a run. It was the first time I had ever seen Teeny run, and it was similar to the way she drove: fast, erratic, and constantly verging on a collision.

  “Something terrible happened,” I said. “I can feel it.”

  “We don’t know that,” Miss May said. “Maybe it’s just something...casual.”

  “There’s six cop cars!”

  “Will you keep it down? We need to keep our cool if we want to find out what’s going on here.” Miss May gestured towards the pond with her chin. “Great. Wayne saw us.”

  I looked over. Wayne approached from near the pond. He was smiling, but it didn’t look like he meant it. “Ladies. I would say I’m surprised to see you here, but I’m not. At all. What took you so long? Call went out on the scanner an hour ago.”

  “We don’t have a scanner,” Miss May said. “I already told you that. Is Peach OK?”

  “Lady who owns the place?”

  “Yes!”

  “Yeah. Uh. She’s fine. This isn’t about her.”

  “Who’s it about then?”

  Miss May took a step towards the scene of the crime, but Wayne blocked her path.

  “Can’t say.” Wayne hitched his thumbs in his belt. “Official police business.”

  Miss May threw up her hands in exasperation. “Oh right! You guys only show up AFTER bad things have already happened! I thought cops prevented crimes. All you do is show up and take notes.”

  Wayne raised his voice and puffed his chest like a tough guy. “That’s enough, May.”

  It was my turn to puff my chest. “Hey! Don’t talk to my aunt like that,” I said. “She has just as much a right to be here as anyone else. And she has a point.”

  What was coming over me? Why did Wayne bring out my fighting side? Why did he look so good but make me so mad?

  Wayne smiled. This time it was genuine. “I like your spunk, Chels.”

  “Spunk this!” I charged past Wayne and made a beeline for the inn.

  Miss May pumped her fist in the air. “That’s my girl!” She hurried to catch up with me, and we both left Wayne in our dust. It was an empowering move. Illegal as heck, but empowering.

  Wayne called after us. “Where are you going?”

  I turned back. “I don’t know! Maybe I want to book a room!”

  As I charged up the steps to the inn, I felt triumphant. It felt good to take out my frustration out on Wayne, and the butterflies in my stomach had turned into pitbulls, ready for a fight.

  14

  Peaches and Teen

  THE LOBBY OF THE INN was through the front door and to the right, where the dining room had been two hundred years ago. There were two comfy chairs by the fireplace for guests to sit in and read, along with a window seat that looked out over the lawn. And there was a buffet table on the far wall that someone had set with fresh double-chocolate cookies, water, tea, and sandwiches.

  The place was quintessential Pine Grove. Quiet and quaint. And on that day, a solemn stillness hung in the air. That’s why it shocked me when I burst inside to find Teeny and Peach bent over in uproarious laughter.

  Peach saw me and wiped a laugh-tear out of the corner of her eye. She had thick gray hair and wore an oversized Las Vegas sweatshirt. Her voice sounded like a rake over loose gravel, but it was distinct, and I liked that. “Chels. How you doin’?”

  I opened my mouth to answer, but before I could speak, Teeny and Peach cracked up laughing again. Like greeting me was somehow part of the joke.

  Miss May entered a few seconds behind me and hung her coat on a peg. “What are you two nuts laughing about? On second thought, forget it, I don’t care. Better question, and this one’s for you, Peach...What’s going on outside?”

  Peach cleared her throat and shook her head, trying to subdue her laughter. “Sorry, May. This kid cracks me up.”

  It was funny to hear anyone refer to Teeny as a kid. She had always been “Miss May’s Friend,” to me. But Peach was sixteen months older than Teeny, and Peach had always worn her slim margin of seniority with pride. Peach continued. “I’ll tell you what’s going on out there. There’s a dead guy on my lawn.”

  Miss May wrinkled her nose. “And that’s what caused all the joyous laughter?”

  “Of course not,” Peach said. “Dead guy at your place of business, not quite a ‘tee-hee’ moment. As you're well aware.”

  Teeny stifled a laugh. “We were laughing because there’s a cop out there, kneeling by the pond with his, well, you know...his...booty crack showing.”

  Miss May shook her head. “Butt cracks. Really? A man is dead.”

  Peach giggled. “When life gets dark, it helps to find a crack of light.”

  Teeny guffawed. “I hope that cop
can crack the case!”

  “You guys!” I protested. “This really is not the time to be...” Was I really gonna say it? “...cracking wise.” Yep. I said it.

  Miss May couldn’t help herself. She started to giggle too. The laughter was contagious. Peach and Teeny were two peas in a BnB, and it was fun to see them get going. But we had a case to solve, so I steered the conversation away from booty cracks, and back to the dead body.

  “Who was the deceased?” I asked.

  Peach grunted. “Let’s just say you can keep the keys to that imaginary boat, if you know what I mean.”

  Miss May hung her head. “Ugh. It’s the big guy? The one we called you about?”

  Peach nodded. “Oh yeah. I came out this morning and there he was. At first, I thought he was napping. But who naps facedown in a rose bush? I mean, I’ve done it but only once or twice and tequila was involved.” Peach reminisced for a few seconds, presumably about her tequila-drinking days, then she snapped back to attention. “Cops think it could’ve been murder.”

  Miss May, Teeny, and I all let out a simultaneous sigh. It would’ve been cute if it wasn’t about a homicide.

  Teeny crossed to the fireplace and curled up on one of the comfy chairs. Her small frame sank into the seat and she looked back at us. “This is getting to be too much.”

  Miss May sat in the chair opposite Teeny. “Three murders in Pine Grove? I’d say so.”

  I looked back to the scene outside. Police officers swarmed the pond, including one with a visible, uh, upper tush area. Sexy-haired Flanagan swarmed Wayne, sticking to him like snow on the bottom of a boot. She leaned against him as they reviewed notes on a pad. I scowled and forced myself to turn back toward Teeny and Miss May. “That’s a lot of cops for one dead guy,” I observed. “Are they all outside? Or are there some in here, too?”

  Peach poured herself a cup of tea at the buffet table. “A few of them were up in his room, but only for a couple minutes. Then they just started loitering outside.”

  Miss May sat up straight. “So are you saying the dead guy’s room is...empty? There are no cops in there at all?”

  Peach nodded. Miss May scooted forward. “Any chance you have the key?”

  Peach grinned and raised her eyebrows. Of course she had the key.

  THE FIRST THING I NOTICED about the dead guy’s room was how messy it was. Wrappers from Ewing’s Burgers covered every surface. The trash overflowed with soda bottles and beer cans. The bed was unmade, and piles of clothes dotted the floor like a disgusting, smelly mountain range.

  “Whoa.” I kicked a soda can aside and crossed the room. “This place is gross.”

  Peach huffed. “The guy refused the maids every single day. Didn’t even want turndown service.”

  Teeny scoffed. “Who doesn’t want the little chocolate mint on the pillow?”

  “We’ve been doing a shortbread cookie for the past few weeks,” Peach said. “The guests have loved it.”

  “Little mints are better,” Teeny said.

  “Shortbread.”

  “Mints!”

  “Either way!” Miss May stepped between the arguing sisters. “The guy didn't want people in here. Which makes me think he had something to hide.”

  I poked a half-eaten hamburger on the window sill. “He was hiding something, all right. A serious fast food addiction.”

  “Other than that.” Miss May got down on her hands and knees and looked under the bed. “There’s a clue in here somewhere. We just need to sort through the trash and find it.”

  Something dinged across the room.

  Miss May’s eyes darted from the closet, to the TV, to the bed. “What was that?”

  Ding! Ding!

  Miss May stood up and spun around. “Where is that noise coming from?”

  A soft glow emanated from under a pile of dirty laundry on the desk. I took a step toward it and held my nose as I nudged the clothes aside. “It’s a computer. I think he’s getting emails!”

  I used the TV remote to push the dirty clothes away. Sure enough, there was a laptop under all the stinkage. I opened the laptop screen all the way. The desktop picture was of a big, burly guy holding a puppy. “Awww. Dead guy had a puppy.”

  “That’s sad for the puppy,” Miss May said. “But we don’t have all day. Try to find the emails.”

  Ding! A message notification popped up. I clicked it and a message opened. I read it out loud.

  “Vlad. Please don’t do anything crazy. Meet me at the Tropicana poker room Tuesday. Will have money then.”

  I read the message to myself once more, muttering under my breath. Don’t do anything crazy. Poker room. Money. Then it hit me. “This guy was a bookie!”

  “Huh,” Teeny said. “He didn’t strike me as much of a reader.”

  “Not a bookworm. A bookie,” I said. “Like... he loaned money to gamblers and broke their knees if he didn't get it back. And I guess his name is Vlad.”

  Peach parted the blinds and looked out the window. “You three need to hurry up!”

  Miss May hurried to Peach’s side. “Why? What’s going on?”

  “The cops are on their way back inside. Guess they got tired of displaying their cracks out by the pond.”

  Teeny stood on the bed so she could see over Peach and Miss May. “Shoot! Here they come.”

  Teeny jumped off the bed and landed like a cat. “Don’t worry! I got this!”Teeny kicked a hunk of trash aside and darted out of the room. Her feet thump-thumped as she leapt down the steps. The door creaked open, then it slammed shut. Then we could see Teeny out the window, blocking the path between the cops and the inn.

  “What is she doing?” I craned my neck to get a better view. Teeny gesticulated with big sweeping motions. It looked like she was acting out a pirate attack, and the cops were a captive audience.

  “She’s creating a diversion,” Miss May said. “We better hurry and find something we can use.”

  I clicked more files on the computer, but they were all password-protected. “Everything else on here requires a password,” I said. “Should I try to guess it?”

  “You don’t have that kind of time,” Peach said. “Teeny can't hold those boys off forever!”

  I closed the laptop and picked it up. “Should we take the computer?”

  “Too big,” Miss May said. “They’ll know it’s missing.”

  I opened the word processor. Vlad had saved the most recent file as “$$$$$$,” and it opened with no password required.

  “I think I found something,” I said.

  “What?” Miss May demanded.

  “I don’t know! Numbers. Names. Dollar signs.”

  “Hurry up,” Peach said.

  The lobby door creaked open and Wayne’s voice called out. “Miss Peach? Hello? Anybody home?”

  Peach hurried over to the door to Vlad’s room. “I'm in the ladies room. I had stew for breakfast so it's gonna be a minute!”

  Miss May grabbed the laptop from me and opened her phone. “This is the important document?”

  I shrugged. Maybe?

  Miss May opened the camera on her phone and snapped a few pictures of the laptop screen.

  Wayne’s footsteps echoed on the staircase, but Miss May stayed calm.

  “Hello?” Wayne was at least halfway up the steps.

  Miss May scrolled from one page to the next, taking photos. She had at least ten more pages to capture, and Wayne was getting closer.

  So I took matters into my own hands. I unbuttoned my top two buttons, fluffed my hair, and darted out into the hallway.

  I acted surprised when I saw Wayne at the top of the stairs. “Detective. Oh. Hi there.” I was not a natural flirt, but I fluttered my eyelashes as best I could. It hurt my eyes to blink so many times.

  “What are you doing up here?” Wayne’s eyes wandered down, then shot back up to my face again. It was working!

  “Miss May and I were looking for Teeny and Peach. They left us down by the fireplace and never came ba
ck.”

  “Teeny's outside.” Wayne crossed his arms. “And Peach is right behind you.”

  “There you are, Chelsea,” Peach said. Miss May breezed past me and headed down the stairs. “We were looking all over for you.”

  “I was looking all over for you,” I said.

  Peach stomped down the stairs behind Miss May. “Where’s Teeny?”

  “I’m right here!” Teeny looked up at us from the bottom of the stairs.

  “Well, the gang is finally back together.” I zipped my coat up. Wayne followed the zipper from my waist to my neck. I gave him my sweetest smile. “Nice seeing you, Wayne.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief as I walked away. That was close.

  And I liked it.

  15

  The $500,000 Question

  ONCE WE GOT BACK TO the farm, I hooked up Miss May’s phone to the TV screen in the office at the bake shop, and Teeny, Miss May, and I reviewed the photos of Vlad’s computer together.

  The document contained three columns. One for “Name,” another for “Address” and the last for “Money Owed.”

  It quickly became clear that we had stumbled onto Vlad’s ledger.

  Someone named “Chico” owed Vlad eighty grand.

  Someone named “Mr. X” owed $17,000.00.

  Then there was the holy grail. The biggest fish. The gambler who owed Vlad more money than all the other degenerates combined...

  Ernest Flamingo owed Vlad $500,000.00.

  I felt like Mike Tyson had taken a bite out of my heart. “Is that right? Could Ernest, er, Charles...have owed this guy five hundred grand?”

  Miss May pinched and zoomed until the number filled the screen. Yup. It was a five with five zeroes. Miss May whistled through her teeth. “That’s a lot of apples.”

  Teeny fussed with her necklace and paced. “Woo-wee! That is a ton of apples.”

  I felt a headache forming and pressed on my temples to fend it off. I kept my eyes closed and I spoke. “This guy... Vlad... He had to be the one who killed Charles, right?”

  Miss May put her phone down. “Seems possible. But according to the ledger, Vlad never got paid.”

  “If that’s true, that means Charles borrowed money from Vlad, but didn't pay it back. So maybe Charles planned to use his clients' money to pay the gambling debts, then kept the cash for himself and stiffed the bookie,” I said. “So there's still hope that people in town will get their money back.”