Dropping Like Pies (Apple Orchard Cozy Mystery Book 11)

by Chelsea Thomas

  Miss May put her hand on my shoulder. “Are you sure?”

  I swallowed. I wasn’t sure. And I didn’t know how to answer Miss May’s question.

  “Sure as I’m gonna be,” I said. “Now help me pick out an outfit.”

  21

  First Degree Jitters

  I arrived at the gazebo to meet suspected-killer James a few minutes early. He wasn’t there yet. So I took in the scene to try to calm my jitters.

  A young mother played in the snow with three toddlers, two boys and a girl. The kids took turns trying to tackle their mom into the snow. Each time she fell back with an exaggerated yelp, then bounced up with a smile. The kids squealed with glee as they played the game.

  The whole scene was idyllic. But my jaw was tight and my fists were clenched. And my mind raced with thoughts of James and his brush-up with murder in Florida. What if he had been involved in that killing? What if he had committed the murder and gotten away with it?

  James approached from down the block. He smiled and waved. I took a deep breath and stood tall, hoping to disguise my fear with confidence and charisma. Then I waved back.

  “Hey James! Welcome to the first official stop on your tour of Pine Grove.”

  “Nice. Gazebo. Charming.” James climbed the steps to the gazebo with a jaunty bounce. “This place is gorgeous in winter.”

  “And the gazebo is new,” I said. “New-ish, at least. They built it about ten years ago. It’s right in the center of town so you can see everyone as they walk by. That’s my favorite part about Pine Grove, in general. There are friendly faces everywhere and we all have each other’s backs.”

  I gave James a big smile and hoped my speech about the lack of privacy in Pine Grove wasn’t too transparent. But he didn’t seem to notice anything suspicious.

  “That’s so awesome,” he said. “I live off the highway near Orlando so we don’t have that kind of community. But I do remember enjoying the neighborly vibe when I was a kid here. We didn’t have this gazebo or anything but there was plenty of love to go around.”

  “Definitely,” I said. “Pine Grove is the kind of place where nothing ever seems to go wrong. Except for the murders, of course. But the gazebo has already been the location of one murder. You wouldn’t want to kill someone here, it’s cliché at this point. You know?”

  James looked confused. “I guess you’re pretty caught up in this investigation you’re working on now?”

  “No,” I said. “I’m not too involved, to be honest. That’s more my aunt’s thing. She was a prosecutor in New York City. Nothing gets past her. She’s like a bloodhound. But I’m more of a cocker spaniel. I don’t hound for much.”

  “Oh,” said James. “I assumed you were wrapped up in an investigation because you’re talking about murder a lot.”

  A nervous laugh escaped my lips. “Am I? I guess sometimes I find it hard to leave work at home. Not that investigating murders is my job or anything. Just a fun hobby. Not fun. It’s not fun when people get murdered. But it’s rewarding to keep Pine Grove safe. We do important work, I think. No one wants murderers running around their small town, right?”

  James’ face hardened. I felt him turning against me. My fists tightened even further. Sweat formed on my forehead. Why couldn’t I control my Chelsea-babble? I’m not stupid, I swear! I just have this nervous-chatter habit that gets me in all sorts of trouble. And I need to nip it in the behind.

  James leaned forward and got real close to me. “Let me guess… You searched my name online.”

  I gripped the gazebo railing tight. “No. What?”

  “You’re nervous. You’re talking about murder. You pointed out how public this gazebo is. You searched my name online.”

  My shoulders slumped. “OK. Fine. I did a quick search. But they found the killer. You’re innocent, right?”

  “Of course.” James looked away. “I hate that the Internet exists, man. Once a rumor gets started online there’s no way to kill it. No matter how hard you try to snuff it out.”

  I gulped, then attempted to lighten the mood. “Shall we continue the rest of the tour?”

  James turned back to me. “Sure. But can we not discuss the whole ‘murder accusation’ thing?”

  My heart skipped a beat. “Deal.”

  As the night progressed, I led James up and down Main Street several times, pointing out new businesses and discussing others that had gone out. I told James about the installation of our single traffic light. And I revealed that I had only recently learned about the Pine Grove Sports Museum.

  When I brought up the sports museum, I maintained a careful focus on James’s face, hoping to gauge his reaction. Could he have been the intruder who disappeared on a motorcycle? But he accepted the information about the museum like he’d accepted everything else I’d showed him that night, with a little smile and a shrug.

  After a while, I suggested we stop and take a rest on a bench in the middle of Main Street. I sat down and James sat beside me.

  He crossed his arms. “So. You were careful to choose the most public bench in town for this break, weren’t you?”

  “This is my favorite bench.” I wiggled around to face James.

  “Yeah, right. It’s underneath two of the brightest lights in town. Across from the restaurant owned by your tiny little friend. And what? A hundred steps from the police station?”

  “James. I don’t think—”

  “That whole Florida thing was a misunderstanding. I’m telling you, man! I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. They never found the guy’s body, anyway.”

  “They found the killer without finding the body?”

  “Yeah. Some crazy killer confessed. He had lots of victims, supposedly. It was all over the news.”

  I took a deep breath and then exhaled. I didn’t like James’ new demeanor. Sharp, terse and a little angry. And I hated that some ‘crazy killer’ took the fall for the murder in Orlando.

  What if that ‘crazy killer’ claimed he had committed the murder of James’ boss just to add to his list of accomplishments? What if the real killer was still out in the streets, waiting to strike again?

  I crossed my ankles. Tried to relax and stay calm. “That must’ve been hard, losing your boss. I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

  “It was hard. Thank you.” James shook his head as he continued to look off into the distance. “All of this is hard, you know. It was hard losing my boss. Now I’ve lost my coach. And somehow I’m a suspect in another murder. Yes. Coach Thornton and I had a falling out after he cut me for no reason. That was ridiculous. I deserved to be on that team. I mean, look at me. I’m huge! And yeah, I had some anger issues then. But I did a yoga retreat in Key West. It changed me. I’m different now. Way more flexible and completely well-adjusted. I never would have killed Coach Thornton, chopped him up, and buried him on your farm.”

  “Of course not, yeah. I uh… yeah,” I stammered. “Did you have a nice visit with Coach Sheila, by the way?”

  “Oh, that seems suspicious to you, too? Well it’s not. I was just checking on someone, I mean something. OK?”

  “OK.”

  We sat in silence for a few seconds. I didn’t know what to say so I pointed at the ice cream parlor down the street. “The ice cream place is new. It’s called Cherry on Top. Terrific ice cream. Teeny gets everything with extra sprinkles.”

  “I’ll check it out before I leave town.” James’ voice was one-note. And it was not a pretty note.

  “You definitely should,” I said. “When are you headed out, anyway?”

  “I haven’t scheduled my return flight yet. I was just planning to play the whole trip by ear.”

  I couldn’t hide the surprise on my face. “Oh.”

  “Yeah. If I killed the guy, I probably would have skipped town by now, right?”

  “I wasn’t thinking that,” I lied.

  “Does the ice cream place have hot chocolate?” James stood and shoved his hands in his jacket po
ckets. “Let me buy you a cup.”

  I looked up. The snow was falling harder than it had all day. “I’d love to. But I should get back to the farm to help prepare for this storm.”

  James sighed. “Alright. Hey… Sorry I got emotional tonight. I’ve got a lot going on.”

  “I understand,” I said. “I didn’t mean to make you feel any bad emotions.”

  “You made me feel some good ones too.” James’ eyes sparkled with romantic mischief.

  Oh no! I backed away a couple steps.

  He gave me a small smile. “Maybe we can do this again sometime?”

  My heart sank but the corners of my lips lifted. “Sure! We can take another walk in town.”

  James rolled his eyes. “Right. In public.”

  With that, James bade me farewell. We shared an awkward hug where I purposely kept my mouth far away from his. Then he strolled off into the night, taking big, purposeful steps as he disappeared around a corner.

  I couldn’t help but wonder as I watched him go…

  Was it just me… Or did that guy walk like a murderer?

  22

  Post-Game Analysis

  I found Miss May and Teeny nestled in our booth at Grandma’s. They were busy chatting away about an old friend who had gotten lost on her annual trip from New York down to Florida. Apparently, the friend ended up in Illinois and realized she had been going the wrong way because the weather had gotten colder instead of warmer. I cleared my throat.

  “Chelsea,” said Miss May. “Hi. How long have you been standing there?”

  “Long enough to know your friend has a horrible sense of direction.”

  “And poor attention to detail,” said Teeny. “Good thing she’s not part of our detective team, right ladies? Only the sharpest minds can survive in our crew.”

  Miss May tipped an invisible hat to Teeny. Teeny tipped an invisible hat back to Miss May.

  “OK. I guess you two are busy congratulating one another on being smart enough to know the difference between Florida and Illinois. So I don’t need to tell you anything about my night with James.”

  Miss May chuckled. “Don’t be such an only child, Chelsea. Of course we want to know about your night with James. Teeny’s been theorizing about it for the better part of an hour.”

  Teeny raised her eyebrows. “It’s true. I have. Did he kiss you? Did you kiss him? Did you find out if he’s a cold-blooded murder?”

  “That’s a strange order in which to ask those questions,” I said.

  Teeny shrugged. “I asked them in order of importance. Kind of. Fine, not really.”

  As I settled into the booth beside Miss May, I launched into the story of my evening with James. Miss May and Teeny listened with rapt attention. They laughed when I told them about how I had fixated on pointing out how public the gazebo was. They interrupted once or twice a minute with pertinent questions. And they each repeatedly checked to make sure I’d felt safe during my time with James. I told them I did, sort of. But that I definitely didn’t want to be alone with him again.

  Once I had told Teeny and Miss May everything, Miss May looked me square in the eye. “So did you draw any conclusions? Is James the killer?”

  “He didn’t say anything incriminating,” I said. “But he was hostile and defensive. Especially when Orlando came up.”

  Teeny added a huge squirt of honey to her tea. “So you think he killed the guy down in Florida?”

  “I think it’s possible,” I said. “According to James, the guy who confessed wasn’t all there mentally. So in my mind, James isn’t in the clear.”

  “But why would James have told you that if he was the killer?” asked Miss May.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “But I’m telling you, he was hiding something. I could feel it. The guy was sketchy.”

  “Some guys are just sketchy,” said Teeny. “My second husband was sketchy. I liked that about him. But he never killed anyone, I don’t think. We were only married for a few months, though, and I never kept up with him. So it’s hard to say for sure.”

  “Why did the marriage only last a few months?” I asked.

  “He threatened to kill me,” said Teeny. “But I’m telling you, he never would’ve gone through with it.”

  “Glad that marriage ended quick,” I said.

  “Me too,” said Teeny. “Yeesh!”

  “Anyway…” I took a big sip of tea. “I understand what you’re saying, Miss May. James didn’t incriminate himself in this case. But he acted guilty. And I think we should move him to the top of our list of suspects.”

  “We have to be careful how we pursue him,” said Miss May. “If we go at him guns blazing, he might get scared.”

  “That’s fine,” I said. “But we need to act quick. The guy could disappear back to Florida at any moment.”

  “This blizzard is riding in on a thousand horses,” said Miss May. “There’s no way he’s leaving town now. I say we go back to the farmhouse, re-group, come up with a plan.”

  “Never underestimate the will and creativity of a cold-blooded killer,” said Teeny in a dark, grim voice.

  “Where did that creepy voice come from?” I asked.

  “That’s the tagline for the season fifteen of the North Port Diaries. Or was it season eleven of Blood and Bones? Whatever. It was in a million commercials. Cool, right?”

  “Very cool,” said Miss May. “So what do you think? Re-group? Make a plan? Go after James as soon as this blizzard passes?”

  “You think that’s OK?” I asked. “I’m afraid he’s going to try to run to Florida during the white out.”

  Miss May shook her head. “There’s no way he’s getting out of town until the snow stops falling. We’ve got time to think. Let’s use it.”

  I stood beside Miss May and gathered my things. So did Teeny. But just as we turned toward the exit to leave, Tom Gigley burst into the restaurant, out of breath.

  He spotted me, Teeny and Miss May in our booth and hurried over to us, his shock of gray hair bouncing as he hurried in our direction.

  “Ladies! Thank goodness you’re here!” Tom doubled over to catch his breath.

  Teeny clutched the edge of the table. “What happened? Is everything OK?”

  “Brian. From the Brown Cow.” Tom looked up at us. “He’s under arrest!”

  23

  How Now, Brown Cow?

  “I can’t believe they arrest Brian for this murder!” I said. “We have go to the jail to talk to him.”

  “Look at that window,” said Teeny. “I don’t think we have time for that.”

  I crossed to the window and looked outside. The snowfall had picked up speed and a few inches had accumulated on the hood of the van. But that didn’t deter me from my goals. “It’s not that bad,” I said. “We can stop at the police department on the way home.”

  “We should already be home,” said Teeny. “Can’t we call him or something?”

  “He used his one phone call on me,” said Gigley. “I said, ‘sure, I’ll be your lawyer. But you should have used this call on Miss May!’”

  “Thanks, Tom,” said Miss May.

  “It’s just true,” said Gigley. “Brian doesn’t need a lawyer right now. He needs an investigator to find the real killer in this case!”

  Teeny stood on a table and cupped her hands around her mouth. “Attention, everyone. This restaurant is now closed. Get on home and get warm! Take your food with you, it’s on the house.”

  The patrons of Grandma’s murmured in appreciation and gathered their things to go.

  “That was nice,” I said.

  “I’m always nice,” said Teeny. “And I want to go home and watch my shows before I get stranded here all night!”

  “You really don’t think we should stop by the jail?” I asked.

  Teeny shook her head. Miss May crossed the restaurant and looked out the window. “I hate to say it but I think Teeny might be right about this one. We might not have time to go talk to Brian. It’s
pure white out there.”

  “We’re a two minute walk away,” I said. “We’ve all been locked up in that jail. No one likes it except for KP. And he only likes it because he’s addicted to the mashed potatoes. Let’s just stop by for thirty seconds to tell Brian we know he’s innocent and we’re on his side.”

  “Do we know he’s innocent?” asked Teeny. “I mean, I love the guy. And if he killed Thornton, I’ll support him. But he got awful weird when we were talking to him about this murder.”

  “You’ll support Brian if he’s guilty?” asked Miss May. “This killer chopped up the town’s legendary coach and buried pieces of him on my apple orchard? You’d support that?”

  Teeny shrugged. “I wouldn’t invite him over for Thanksgiving dinner for anything. But if people asked me, ‘whatever happened to that guy Brian who owned the coffee shop,’ I’d say he was a nice guy and he must have been going through a hard time.”

  I chuckled. “How magnanimous.”

  “You really want to go to jail right now, Chelsea? What if we get stuck?” asked Miss May, crossing back over to the booth and pulling on her coat.

  I shrugged. “I’d want someone to come visit me, blizzard or not.”

  Miss May sighed. “Alright. Let’s make it quick.”

  Deputy Hercules sat behind the desk in the lobby of the police station, somehow skinnier and younger looking than the day I met him.

  “Ladies,” said Hercules, his voice squeaking, “the department is closed to visitors due to inclement weather. Please return to your homes safely. In the event of an emergency, please dial—”