Apple Orchard Cozy Mystery series Box Set 1

by Chelsea Thomas

  “Why are we going to the high school?” I asked. “Don’t you think Principal Fitz is at home, I mean, since what happened to Charles and everything?”

  “I did think she might be home,” Miss May said.

  “…but?”

  Miss May pointed out the window. “That’s her car in the parking lot.”

  I looked. Sure enough, a burgundy sedan was in front of the school, right below a big sign that said, “Principal Parking Only.” It was well after school hours, so the sedan was the only car still parked in the lot.

  Weird.

  As we entered the high school lobby, that same bittersweet nostalgia swept over me. I had spent so many hours in that place, with friends I hadn't seen in far too long. I'd have to reconnect with my old classmates at some point, see if any of them were still in town. But murder investigations are no time for rekindling friendships, so I logged that away for a later date.

  Besides, the school was so ugly I couldn’t focus on much else. Generally, high schools are an interior designer’s worst nightmare. Would it kill the district to put in a couple potted plants? Or a few nice moldings? Plus, the fluorescent lighting was so harsh, I felt like I was in a teen horror movie.

  I turned to Miss May to comment on the ugly interior design, but she was already ten steps ahead of me, charging toward the principal’s office. When she got there, she knocked on the door and jiggled the doorknob, but it wouldn't open.

  Miss May jiggled the knob again and called out, “Knock knock! Hello? Anybody in there?”

  “Seems empty,” I said.

  “Yeah,” Teeny agreed. “It is after-hours.”

  “This door only locks from the inside,” Miss May said. “Someone is in there.”

  Miss May pounded on the door again. Knock, knock, knock!

  That time, a man’s voice called out from behind the locked office, “One second!”

  The door unlocked with a click and opened a crack. Vice Principal Frank peered out with raised eyebrows and pursed lips.

  “Can I help you people? The school is closed.” Marvin had bags under his eyes, and he looked annoyed. I couldn’t blame him. Miss May’s knocking was loud enough to bother anyone, and his boss's husband had just died.

  I stood on my tippy-toes to look past Marvin, and into the office. The place was empty, but papers and files were all over Principal Fitz’s desk. A filing cabinet drawer was open. The place was a mess. Seemed like Marvin was trying to clean up. I felt bad for intruding. Miss May, however, did not share my concern.

  “Sorry for bothering you,” Miss May said. “But you can help us. You’re Marvin Frank, isn’t that right?”

  Marvin opened the door a sliver wider. “That’s right. Do I know you?”

  “You might not,” Miss May said. “But I know you.”

  “How is that?” Marvin said.

  “I own the apple orchard up on Whitehill. You come apple-picking every year. I remember my best customers.”

  Marvin opened the door further and relaxed a bit. “You run that farm? That place is a treasure! I'm sorry I don't remember you!”

  Miss May smiled. “Last year you bought almost ten bushels, isn’t that right?”

  “Probably more,” Marvin said. “I make preserves and jams every fall. Give them out as gifts when I have visitors or around the holidays. And sometimes I sneak into the pantry and eat whole jars of jam with my hands.”

  Miss May laughed. “That is what I like to hear! Bring your concoctions by some time. Maybe we can sell them in the bake shop!”

  Marvin demurred. “My jam's not good enough for that. But I'm flattered. Thank you.”

  “I'm sure it's delicious,” Miss May said. “Would you mind if we came in for a second?”

  “Come in, come in.”

  Marvin opened the door and Miss May, Teeny, and I crowded into the small office. Marvin tidied the messy desk as we entered, filing a few papers, closing a clunky, homemade-looking laptop, and tucking a large pair of scissors into a drawer. “Sorry about the mess. I make a point to clean up at the end of each school day, but with Florence out, I’ve fallen behind.”

  “Oh, a little mess doesn't bother us,” Miss May said. “You should see my office. Last year I filed my taxes with an applesauce stain on the front page.”

  Marvin laughed. “You, ma’am, are a riot.”

  Miss May smiled, “I try to be.”

  Marvin was about to sit down when he caught my eye. “Now you look familiar,” he said. “Do you work at the orchard too?”

  “I do work in the bake shop,” I said. “But I suspect you remember me from this weekend. We uh...we were in the sled race together. I was the only other adult?”

  “Oh,” Marvin said. Then his face flickered with recognition. “Ohhhhhhhh.” That second ‘oh’ was clearly code for, “Oh, now I remember, you’re the girl who rode her sled into the dead guy.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “I ...crashed in the woods.”

  A somber silence fell over the room. I tried to break the tension, “Did you end up winning those theater tickets?”

  “No.” Mr. Frank shook his head. “Some little snot beat me to the finish line by the tip of his buzzcut.”

  Marvin let out a sad chuckle, then sat behind his desk. “How can I help you ladies?

  “Right,” Miss May said. “We were just headed over to Florence’s to bring her a couple pies, see if she needs anything else. I noticed her car was here, so we popped in looking for her. Is she in?”

  “Oh no,” Marvin sad. “My junky old coupe broke down last week. I'm waiting for the dealership to finish customizations on the new one, so Mrs. Fitz let me use hers.”

  “That’s just like Florence. So generous.” Miss May shook her head. “It's so terrible. what happened.”

  “It sure is.” Marvin looked away. “Some things don't make any sense.”

  Marvin tried to hide it, but I could see tears forming in the crinkles of his eyes. Miss May must have noticed the tears too, because she pulled an apple pie from her massive purse and set it beside Marvin. “You know what? Why don’t I leave one of these pies for you? You're going through a lot.”

  Marvin wiped his eyes and looked over at Miss May. “For me?”

  “Enjoy it,” Miss May said.

  Marvin hesitated. “You keep pies in your purse?” I know, right?

  “I run a bake shop,” Miss May said. “Why does everyone think that's so strange?”

  Marvin laughed, regaining his composure. “You can leave the other pie here too. I'll make sure Florence gets it.”

  “Oh, phooey,” Miss May said. “You relax. I’ll leave this on her doorstep.” Miss May took Marvin's hand and looked into his eyes. “I mean it. Take care of yourself, OK?”

  Marvin nodded. “No wonder that orchard is so wonderful. You're a treasure, too.”

  Marvin wrapped Miss May in a big hug and rested his head on her shoulder. I marveled at how Miss May helped Marvin, just in those few moments, and tears welled in my eyes.

  Solving murders was not the happiest hobby. But Charles deserved justice. And we were determined to find it.

  As we exited back out to the parking lot, I noticed Florence’s burgundy sedan was no longer the only car out there. While we were inside, someone had parked a beat-up SUV by the tennis courts. A big, burly guy was sitting on the hood of the car, smoking a cigarette, and he looked annoyed. He seemed familiar, but I couldn’t quite place him.

  “Do you know him?” I asked Teeny.

  “Never seen him,” Teeny said. “But he’s smoking outside a high school, so he’s bound to be a real winner.”

  Miss May started the bus and Teeny climbed into the back. But I lingered in the parking lot. I couldn’t peel my eyes away from the sketchy guy. Where had I seen him before?

  The answer was about to come to me when Miss May honked her horn.

  “Chelsea! Let's go!”

  I turned back. Miss May was right to hurry me. We had work to do. And we had somewhere
to be.

  9

  Chopping and Cheating

  When we rolled up to the Fitz estate, I remembered why it had always been one of my favorite houses in town.

  A long, gravel driveway cut a majestic path from the road through the home’s ample frontage. Weeping willows and enormous oaks dotted an expansive front yard, and a beautiful two-story colonial sat at the top of the driveway.

  Ivy covered one side of the house. A stone walkway led to a sweeping front porch, with big rocking chairs looking out over the yard. And a bright-red front door with a brass-lion knocker was the cherry on top.

  As Miss May parked the bus, I remembered that Principal Fitz and Charles had discovered Revolutionary War maps and documents in the walls of the kitchen back when I was in high school.

  The Fitz family had been doing a massive renovation, and a construction worker had unearthed the papers and almost thrown the whole collection away. But Florence had gotten home in the nick of time, and she’d rescued the maps and letters from oblivion. Back then, I hadn’t been that interested in Principal Fitz’s big historical discovery. But ever since moving back home, I had developed a mild interest in Pine Grove’s role in the war, so it excited me that our investigation had led us to such a historic home.

  It also excited me to discover how the Fitz’s had decorated the interior of the house. I had worked on some pre-war buildings in New York City, and I’d loved blending the old with the new. But those homes were pre-World War II. Designing the interior of a pre-Revolutionary War home would have been a dream come true. That afternoon was not the right time to convince Florence to give me an interior design job, but I resolved to keep the possibility on the back burner.

  We approached and I noticed a pot of dead flowers hanging on the porch. The flowers looked spooky and forgotten. Teeny plucked one from the pot and it crunched in her fingers.

  “Looks like Florence didn't get the memo that winter came,” Teeny said.

  “Don’t criticize her decorating, Teeny,” Miss May said. “At least not until after we leave.”

  Miss May grabbed the brass-lion and delivered three authoritative knocks. We waited, but there was no answer. I peeked through the windows beside the front door, but it was dark inside. Everything was quiet and still.

  “I would say let’s go look for her car, but we know she doesn’t have it,” Miss May said.

  “So… are we going to just leave?” I inched toward the van, ready to move on to the next clue. Even though we didn’t have a next clue yet.

  “Hang on a minute!” Teeny said. She fished around in her purse, pulled out her ancient flip-phone, and made a call.

  “Who are you calling?” I asked.

  Teeny held up her finger like “one second.” She had the phone speaker so loud I could hear it ringing, and I could hear when a woman picked up on the other end.

  “Hello, Flo? It’s Teeny. So, so sorry about Charles.” Teeny listened and nodded as Florence spoke. “Listen, I’m here at your front door with May and Chels. We’ve got a pie for you. Are you home? I think it needs to be in the fridge.” She waited another few seconds as she listened. “OK, great. See you in a sec!”

  Teeny hung up and looked over at Miss May with a smile. “Follow me.”

  ----

  As we passed through a trestle toward the back of the house, I spotted Principal Fitz chopping wood in a flannel jacket and jeans across the yard. I was so used to seeing the principal in her signature pantsuit that I almost didn't recognize her. And it was just as foreign to see her engaged in physical labor.

  Principal Fitz made quick work of the pile of wood, halving one log after the next with methodical precision. Her focus was scary intense. I remembered that look from the school hallways. Principal Fitz had always nurtured a positive and safe learning environment. But she had also given out detention like cough drops, and most students had lived in fear of her for their entire four years. Including me.

  “Flo!” Teeny waved as we approached.

  Florence cut one more hunk of wood. Splinters flew like shrapnel in every direction. Then, she wedged the ax into her chopping block and turned to face us. She looked exhausted.

  “What are you doing out here? It’s freezing! You should be inside.” Miss May clucked her tongue, her maternal instincts always on high alert.

  “Too empty in there,” Mrs. Fitz said. “Besides, somebody has to chop the wood.”

  Florence had a quiet, determined look in her eye, like she was pushing her feelings down. From experience, I knew that was not a good idea. I did not, however, feel that it was in any way my place to give my former principal life advice.

  “Chelsea,” she said, “How are you?”

  I tugged at the fingers of my gloves and fidgeted. The truth? I had never liked Principal Fitz. She was an inflexible rule-abider and had always rubbed me the wrong way. But at that moment, I felt bad for her and I couldn’t look her in the eye. “I’m OK. Uh… I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you,” Principal Fitz said. She put her hand on my shoulder. I could feel her shaking, despite how determined she was to show her strength. “You were always a good student. Perfect attendance. Well-mannered. Studious. I’m glad it was you who found the body.”

  The pit of my stomach roiled. That’s a weird compliment, lady. “Uh, thanks,” I said. “I guess...me too.”

  We all stood there for a second. Awkwaarrrrddd. I was glad when Miss May perked up and broke the silence. “I almost forgot,” she said. “We brought you something!”

  Florence seemed to awaken from a deep stupor. Her eyes swiveled toward Miss May. “You did?”

  Miss May produced a pie from her purse and held it up. Every time my aunt did that, I felt like I was watching a magician pull a rabbit out of a hat. Usually it made me laugh. That day, standing between Miss May and my ax-wielding, high school principal, I held it in.

  Miss May handed Florence the pie with a smile on her face. “Apple-cherry,” she said. “Just for you.”

  Mrs. Fitz took the pie with a small, sad smile. “My favorite. Thank you.” Her lower lip quivered. “I haven’t had it in so long… Charles h-h-h-hated cherries.”

  Mrs. Fitz broke into a sob. Miss May hugged her, and Teeny joined in. But I hung back. I was not too keen on “group-hugging” my high school principal, although I could still appreciate the selfless support Miss May and Teeny were offering this woman in her time of need. It was a poignant moment.

  This is why I moved back to Pine Grove, I thought. To be with real people. People who care when your husband gets murdered in a forest.

  “It’s OK.” Teeny patted Florence on the back. “Hey, at least you got free pie out of it, right?”

  Principal Fitz wiped her eyes. “I would have rather paid for the pie.

  “Oh, right,” Teeny said. “Of course. I didn’t mean to imply you would trade your husband’s life for pie.”

  Teeny had a serious foot-in-mouth habit, especially in dark situations. And efforts to correct course only made things worse.

  “Charles was worth much more than a pie,” Teeny said. “Even if he did steal from everyone in town. Allegedly.”

  Teeny would have kept going, but Miss May broke up the hug and interrupted Teeny’s verbal diarrhea.

  “Teeny’s just trying to say we’re sorry for your loss,” Miss May said. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through.”

  “I keep kicking myself for these ridiculous tears,” Principal Fitz said. “It makes me… embarrassed, you know?”

  “Embarrassed how!?” Miss May said. “It's only natural for you to be sad.”

  Mrs. Fitz looked down. “He was cheating on me, May. And I didn’t even find out until today. The day after he died! How could I have been so stupid?”

  Miss May rubbed her head. “What are you talking about, Flo? I never heard anything like that.”

  “Yeah, well, they kept it a secret. I guess most people do when they’re having an affair. Then that hussy showed
up and ransacked my house while I was out. Looking for God knows what.”

  “Are you sure it was a woman? Lots of people wanted their money back,” Teeny said matter-of-factly.

  Miss May shot a look at Teeny. “Teeny!”

  Florence held up her hands to excuse Teeny. “It’s fine. She’s right.” The principal wiped her nose on her sleeve. “But yes, I’m sure. I walked in on her going through his underwear drawer.”

  “My God, not the undies!” Teeny was beside herself. “Who was it?”

  Principal Fitz shook her head, annoyed. “That’s the worst part. It was a former student of mine. Jennifer Paul.”

  “Shut up!” I yelled. Everyone turned to me. I covered my mouth, but I was too late. The words had already spilled out.

  “Sorry,” I said. “It’s just… Jennifer was my year. I can’t believe it was her.”

  “Jennifer with the hair salon?” Teeny asked.

  Mrs. Fitz nodded and broke into another sob. “She cut my hair just last Tuesday. Cut and color.”

  Teeny balled up her little fists like an amateur boxer. “That no good, lying, cheating, husband-stealing—”

  “All right, Teeny. Calm down.” Miss May reached over and lowered Teeny's boxing fists. That moment was no time for hand-to-hand combat. Plus, we had just gotten a juicy new clue. That, and the person Teeny wanted to fight was a corpse.

  “This all must be so hard for you,” Miss May said to Principal Fitz. “We’ll let you grieve in private now. You try to enjoy that pie. Let us know if there’s anything we can do.”

  Principal Fitz nodded, then Miss May, Teeny and I hurried away. Once I got to the trestle, I turned back and looked at Florence Fitz. She sat on the chopping block with her head in her hands.

  Her husband was a cheater. And perhaps a thief.

  And maybe, I couldn’t help but think…Principal Fitz had his death on her conscience.

  10

  Hunting for Clues

  As soon as we left Principal Fitz’s place, Teeny and Miss May burst into a heated argument. Miss May wanted to take Teeny back to Grandma’s, but Teeny wasn’t having it. Miss May made the solid point that without Teeny, the restaurant would be swamped. Granny couldn’t handle that kind of pressure. Teeny didn’t care. She was desperate to parse out the news we’d gotten about Charles Fitz and Jennifer Paul and she would not back down. So, after a short but powerful debate, Miss May caved and agreed to let Teeny ride back up to the orchard with us.