Dropping Like Pies (Apple Orchard Cozy Mystery Book 11)

by Chelsea Thomas

  I asked for further explanation but Flanagan hurried off the phone. Then I relayed the call to Teeny and Miss May.

  “That’s all she said?” asked Teeny.

  “Yes! Let’s go.”

  Miss May grabbed her keys and pulled on her coat. “I’ll drive.”

  “What do you think happened?” said Teeny. “Do you think it’s alien related? That’s possible. There’s life on Mars, you know.”

  “I don’t know, Teeny,” said Miss May. “But let’s go. Now.”

  Miss May hurried out of Grandma’s. Teeny and I followed with our sandwiches in our hands. I took a big bite as I bustled toward the van and almost choked on a piece of tomato. But I didn’t choke. So I took another bite right away. Then I got in the van. And we took off.

  We arrived at the farm to find the parking lot packed with cars. There seemed to be a crowd of people gathered out by the apple trees. They were all wearing matching green and white button up jackets. And they talked excitedly among themselves.

  “What is going on here?” Miss May asked.

  “I would know those jackets anywhere,” I said. “Looks like we’ve been swarmed by Pine Grove’s high school basketball players, past and present.”

  “They’re trampling all over the orchard,” said Teeny. “You know those basketball players have giant, goofy feet. That one just threw a candy wrapper right into a tree. Hey, kid! Trees aren’t trash cans!”

  “These kids must have heard about coach,” Miss May said. “But why are the cops here? And what’s the big emergency?”

  I pointed out toward the edge of the orchard. “There’s Wayne and Chief Flanagan. Let’s go talk to them.”

  “They’re looking pretty close out there,” said Teeny. “Are they holding hands?”

  “No one’s holding hands,” I said. “And I wouldn’t care if they were, anyway.”

  “Yeah, right,” said Teeny. “He’s dreamy. And you’re falling for him heart over hiney.”

  “Can we go?” said Miss May.

  “I’m way ahead of you,” I said. Then I charged out toward the police, head held high with determination. Yeah. Maybe I wondered if my hair looked good flapping in the wind. But I wasn’t falling for anyone. Leave me alone!

  Wayne stood up straight and brushed his coat off as I approached. “Chelsea. Hi. Sorry to hear about your uh, toe problem, but I’m not sure I can help. I don’t know any foot creams. You must have had a conversation with another guy about your toes.”

  I winced. How had I forgotten all about the toe lie? And why had I invented a lie that made my feet sound so gross? It was too late for a cover up so I laughed, a bit too loud, and responded in a casual voice. “Oh yeah. My toes are better now. It was a temporary thing. No big deal. So what’s going on over here?”

  Flanagan stepped forward with a little smirk. “Impromptu vigil for the late, great Coach Thornton. Your groundskeeper, KJ, is it?”

  “KP,” said Miss May.

  “Right. He tried to chase the mourners off your land. There are a few high school teachers in the crowd. One of them called the police. So we came out to make sure everyone was alright.”

  Teeny shook her head. “Don’t tell me you arrested KP or something crazy like that.”

  “No,” said Flanagan. “Why? Is he a criminal? Do you think he’s the one who buried the body? Interesting theory. KP knows the grounds of this orchard well, I imagine. Wayne, write that down. We need to investigate KP further.”

  “KP is not a criminal,” said Miss May. “Where is he, anyway?”

  “The crowd shouted him down so he retreated into his cabin with his limpy dog. We decided to stick around for the vigil in case he became agitated again. But it’s all been calm so far.”

  “That dog is named Steve and he just got a very handsome haircut, I’ll have you know,” I said.

  “Whatever you say,” said Flanagan. “So… How do you think we should proceed here?”

  Miss May looked out at the crowd and bit her lip. “Let them stay as long as they need. These are mourners, not invaders. And we can clean up any mess they leave behind.”

  Flanagan rolled her eyes. “Wow. How magnanimous. Perhaps you even want to join them yourself?”

  Miss May nodded. “That’s a great idea. Thank you for your time, Chief.”

  Head held high, Miss May strode out to the orchard to join the mourners. Teeny followed in a haughty little two-step. Then Flanagan charged after them, muttering about how she wasn’t done talking to the two of them.

  Just like that, Wayne and I were alone at the edge of the orchard. Cue awkward silence. I spoke first.

  “I don’t have a real toe problem, by the way. It was nothing.”

  Wayne held up his hands. “Hey. I don’t judge. I’ve got a brother. He’s got real messed up toes. Smelly. Fungal. It’s rough. But a person can’t be held responsible for the crimes of their toes.”

  I laughed. “I like how you’re using police jargon to describe my problematic toes.”

  “Your allegedly problematic toes,” said Wayne.

  “Exactly. Thank you. I just said the toe thing because I got caught off guard when Flanagan answered your phone.”

  “Caught with your foot in your mouth, some might say?”

  I winced and pretended to gag. Wayne smiled. “That was a good one. That was one of my better funnies today.”

  “Oh so you make funnies now?”

  “It helps to keep things light on the job. I’m known as the funny cop down at the station. But to be honest, it doesn’t take a lot to make those guys laugh. They would die over this toe thing though.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Don’t tell the other cops about my toes. Please.”

  Wayne winked and put his hand on my arm. “I won’t. I promise.” Half a second later, Wayne noticed his hand on my arm and he removed it with a sudden jerk. “So why were you really calling?”

  I gave Wayne a sheepish grin.

  “Of course,” he said. “You want me to share my information with you regarding this Coach Thornton case.”

  “You have any information to share?”

  “You know, just because I allegedly gave you a few juicy tidbits during your last investigation doesn’t mean I’m suddenly Mr. Answers all the time.”

  “Right. No. Of course not.”

  “Flanagan is wise to that whole conversation, by the way. That’s why she’s keeping me next to her like a well-trained puppy. She keeps ‘borrowing’ my cell phone to screen my calls. She thinks I’m going to run and tell you everything.”

  I held both hands to my heart. “Aw. Flanagan’s treating you like a little puppy? You do have puppy dog eyes.”

  Wayne smiled and looked away. “I don’t know if that’s a compliment or an insult.”

  “Come on. You know it’s a compliment.” My voice caught my throat as I said the word compliment. I was flirting with Wayne, and it felt good. But also, bad. An image of Germany Turtle slammed to the front of my brain. Germany had proposed to me two days prior. It didn’t matter if he spent most of his time in Africa. I was his girlfriend. And it was not that nice for me to boldly banter with this hot detective.

  I took a step back from Wayne and crossed my arms. “Are you going to tell me anything about this investigation or not?”

  “Not much to tell,” said Wayne. “Truth is, us cops don’t know that much. All we’ve got is a Mr. Potato Head corpse and a positive ID. Same thing you all have.”

  “What about all those other bags of evidence you removed from the farm?”

  Wayne looked back at Flanagan. She was standing beside Miss May and Teeny at the edge of the crowd of basketball players. Wayne leaned in toward me. “All those bags were filled with dirt. Not evidence.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “I don’t understand. Why?”

  “Flanagan wanted to confuse you. Trick you into attempting to break into our evidence room, something crazy like that. I said that crossed a line into entrapment, but she didn’t care.”r />
  I uncrossed my arms and put a hand on my head. “That is unbelievable.”

  Flanagan’s voice exploded from Wayne’s walkie-talkie. “Detective Hudson. Get over here. Now.”

  “Got to go.” Wayne hurried out toward Flanagan as Miss May and Teeny walked back toward me. As I watched Wayne go, I wondered…

  Would Flanagan really have used all those extra bags of fake evidence to trick us? Or, perhaps more likely, had Wayne lied?

  Maybe the bags had contained ample evidence and Wayne was merely being a good puppy dog, carrying out orders for his master with the nice red hair.

  6

  Sit, Stay, Roll Over

  “How’d it go with Wayne?” Miss May spoke as soon as she got within earshot of me.

  “Quiet down,” I said. “He just walked away thirty seconds ago.”

  Miss May shot a glance back over toward where Flanagan stood with Wayne, near the mourners. They were pretty far away from us. “He can’t hear me, Chelsea. I hate when you do this. Just talk. No one has superhuman hearing.”

  “I do,” Teeny stood up tall. “Yup. I got evaluated when I was a baby. The doctor said I could hear better than a dog.”

  I laughed. “That can’t be true.”

  “I think it is. But I was a baby so I don’t remember for sure. I’m just going off what Mom told me. My whole life she said that I’ve got incredible ears. Let me have that. It’s something I’m proud of.”

  “Alright,” I said. “You have incredible hearing.”

  “But even I wouldn’t be able to hear you talking from where Wayne is standing. So spill it.”

  I told Miss May and Teeny about my chat with Wayne. Although they started off hopeful, they were clearly disappointed I’d failed to glean any new information from the detective. Still, Miss May laughed when I told her about Flanagan’s bags of supposedly fake evidence. And she laughed even harder when I floated the theory that Wayne had lied to me about the fake evidence and that the bags had actually been filled with real clues.

  “There’s no way those bags were filled with anything valuable,” said Miss May. “Think about it. The Pine Grove Police Department hasn’t found a single clue on their own throughout all these investigations. How would they suddenly have discovered thirty bags filled with clues on this case?”

  “That’s an interesting argument,” I said. “And you’re right. The cops rarely have information we don’t have. I’m surprised we ever thought those bags could have been filled with real evidence.”

  “We made the mistake of trusting Flanagan,” Miss May said. “Let’s not let it happen again.”

  “What happened out there with Flanagan, anyway?” I asked.

  “She bullied us.” Teeny blew an angry breath out her nose. “She is so mean and pretty. It’s not fair when mean people are so pretty. I mean, you two are both pretty. But you’re not mean. You’re nice. You hit the genetic lottery.”

  “You’re pretty,” I said.

  “Thank you. But I’m not pretty like Flanagan is. No one is. She’s gorgeous.”

  I nodded, looking over at Flanagan’s shiny red mane. “How did she bully you?”

  “She didn’t bully us,” said Miss May. “She just gave us the standard song and dance. She questioned us like we were suspects in this murder because the body was found on our farm. Oh! Then she insinuated that KP might be guilty, again. We told her to feel free to question KP. She’s already put him in jail for one murder. Maybe if she locks him up for another, we’ll be able to sue the department for millions. Or at least thousands.”

  I pointed at Miss May. “I like the way you think.”

  “Thank you. Although we did meet an old friend of yours out there. I wanted to tell you about that.”

  I scratched my head. “It looks like there are mostly basketball players in the crowd. I didn’t hang out with any athletes in high school. I tried track and field, remember? But I broke my foot on day one.”

  Teeny slapped her knee and laughed. “I remember that. You weren’t even running. You were walking from the locker room out to the field.”

  “There was a big ditch. It could’ve happened to anyone!”

  “Yes, it was an unfortunate accident,” Miss May said. “You got unlucky that day. All three of us know you’re very athletic. Not sporty, exactly. But we’ve all watched you employ your karate skills dozens of times.”

  “That’s true. I guess I don’t consider karate an athletic skill.”

  “Well it is,” said Miss May. “But you’re correct in assuming that it wasn’t one of the basketball jocks who spoke to us about you. It was Mrs. Wimple.”

  “Mrs. Wimple was out there? She was one of my favorite teachers! She was so stern, most kids were afraid of her. But she wanted us to learn. I loved it.”

  “You were such a little nerd,” said Teeny.

  “What did she say?” I asked.

  “She asked about you, of course.” Miss May grinned. “She says she’s been reading about you in the Gazette. Says you’ve been making her proud.”

  Teeny leaned in. “But then she started complaining about Coach Thornton.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Don’t tell me…”

  Miss May nodded. “She hated the guy. Seems to me she was glad he died.”

  “Definitely,” said Teeny. “Wimple didn’t say it explicitly but her happy little eyes did all the talking. I thought she might start dancing on his grave. Or, at least, on all the little holes where his body was buried. Do those count as graves?”

  “I don’t think so,” said Miss May. “Those are more like little burial holes or something. I don’t know what you’d call them.”

  “Well,” Teeny said, “Wimple started dancing on those.”

  I scratched my face as I thought. “If Wimple hates Thornton so much, why is she at this impromptu memorial?”

  “I couldn’t figure that out either,” said Miss May. “Then I realized… Don’t most killers like to return to the scene of the crime?”

  I hung my head. “You’re right. But I still don’t think Wimple could have done this. It was such a violent murder and Mrs. Wimple was nice. Well, not nice. More…tough but fair. She never even raised her voice.”

  “We’re not saying she’s for sure guilty,” said Teeny. “Just saying maybe we should add her to the list.”

  “Before we draw any conclusions, we should stop by Coach Thornton’s house and see what we can learn there,” said Miss May.

  “You took the syllables right off my tongue,” said Teeny. “This was a serious murder. Maybe there’s a clue in Thornton’s house that will help us figure out who committed the crime and why.”

  “Can we get coffee first?” I asked.

  Miss May smirked. “You drive.”

  --

  The Brown Cow was an adorable coffee shop located in the heart of Pine Grove’s downtown district, housed in a small brick building with a patio out front. The outside of the shop was cute and charming. And the inside of the shop was loaded with comfortable furniture, boardgames, and the wafting scents of cinnamon, nutmeg, and coffee.

  As soon as we entered my shoulders relaxed away from my ears. And I let out a long, calming breath. “I am so happy to be here.”

  “Me too,” said Teeny. “I want a muffin dipped in sprinkles. Is that weird?”

  “Nothing’s weird, coming from you,” said Miss May.

  Brian, the laid-back owner of the Brown Cow, barely smiled as we approached. Brian was a Southern California native, famous for being the friendliest person in town. So the grimace was odd for him.

  Brian slammed the cash register closed and looked up at us. “Hey. What do you need?”

  Miss May and I exchanged a confused glance. “Are you OK, Brian?” said Miss May.

  “I’m fine. Sorry. Long day. I had every basketball player in the history of Pine Grove High School in here a couple hours ago. They trashed the place. I’ve gotta get it all cleaned up.”

  “Ah. So the jocks got a
jolt of caffeine at the Brown Cow,” Miss May said with an understanding nod. “Now they’re all up at our farm, tossing their coffee cups into apple trees. But I guess they’re in mourning, so I’m approaching it with forgiveness.”

  “That’s what I thought,” Brian said. “But those guys barely seemed sad. They were all just trading stories about how this guy Thornton tortured them on and off the basketball court. Made them run until they threw up. Made them practice for ten hours straight on the weekend. The shortest one said that coach bought him a stretching machine as a gag gift for his birthday one year. I don’t know why they bothered gathering in mourning for someone like that.”

  “Maybe the tough practices formed a bond for them,” I said. “Maybe now that they’re adults they appreciate all that stuff.”

  Brian rolled his eyes. “I guess so.”

  Teeny placed her elbows on the counter and leaned forward. “You think any of those dirty jocks might have been the killer? Did anybody look ripped and puffed enough to take Coach Thornton down, chop him up, and bury him on the orchard?”

  “Puffed?” I muttered.

  “I don’t know,” Brian said. “Whatever. Seems to me like that guy Thornton might have deserved it.”

  Miss May cocked her head. “You didn’t go to Pine Grove High School, did you?”

  “No. I went to high school in SoCal, you know that,” Brian said.

  Miss May smiled and fluttered her eyelashes. “Right. Of course. I don’t know how I forgot.”

  “I’m just saying all those basketball players were disrespectful in my shop. Seems like their coach instilled the wrong values in his players. I’m not freaking out or anything.” Brian shook out his arms and rolled his neck. Then he looked over at us with a big, fresh smile. “There. I feel better. Sorry about that. Welcome to the Brown Cow, ladies. Should I prepare your usual drinks today or Teeny, do you want something strange dipped in sprinkles?”

  As Teeny launched into a request for a sprinkle-dipped muffin, I retreated into my thoughts. Everyone that we had come across that day had felt off somehow. The disrespectful mourners. Chief Flanagan and her bags of fake evidence. Brian’s uncharacteristic vitriol. Sweet Mrs. Wimple’s disdain for the dead.