Dropping Like Pies (Apple Orchard Cozy Mystery Book 11)

by Chelsea Thomas

  “So she enlisted Ron to do the dirty work,” said Miss May. “That could be right. Still, to play devil’s advocate…the simple act of buying the stick and poke tattoo kit doesn’t incriminate Sissy.”

  Teeny poked her head up between me and Miss May. “You’re right. All the poor girl did was make a purchase. Maybe she doing a favor for Ron. Maybe she didn’t know that her brother was going to use the kit to tattoo a dead man. Or to tattoo a living man and kill him…”

  “I suppose that’s possible,” said Miss May. “But I think Sissy was in on this. And if she wasn’t, I’m not sure how she didn’t realize something was awry. Coach Thornton wasn’t covered in tattoos. He only had one. Pretty strange for him to want a stick and poke kit out of nowhere.”

  “Hold on a second,” I said. “I don’t know where I’m driving. I mean, I’m driving to Pine Grove. But where should I go?”

  “Go to Coach Thornton’s house,” said Miss May. “With any luck we’ll find Sissy there, planning her getaway.”

  I made a quick left and then a right. “OK. We should be there in a few minutes.”

  “Hold up,” said Miss May. “Turn around. You needed to make two lefts back there. Not a left and then a right.”

  I smirked over at Miss May. “Well, well, well. Seems I know a shortcut you don’t know.”

  Miss May looked out the window. “Oh! Fine. Now I see how you’re going. Sure, this is one option. I just got distracted because we were talking about the case.”

  I shimmied a little in my seat. “Whatever you say.”

  Teeny squeaked up from the back seat. “I’ve got a question about all these theories.”

  Miss May glanced at Teeny in the rearview mirror. “Ask it.”

  “Thornton had tons of stolen money. It seems clear to me that Ron killed Jared because Ron wanted to fake his own death. If the authorities believed Ron was dead and they couldn’t find his money, then Thornton could disappear with the money and live happily ever after.”

  “Interesting,” said Miss May. “The faking-your-own-death theory has risen to the forefront. It seemed like it was crazy and straight out of one of your shows earlier. Now it feels like the most likely solution.”

  “Right,” said Teeny. “I remember how you made fun of me earlier when I suggested Coach had faked his own death. But I’m moving on from that. My question is…yes, I understand why Thornton would’ve faked his own death. I even understand why Sissy might have helped him. Maybe Ron was going to give her some of the money. But who killed Ron and why?”

  “Not sure,” said Miss May. She pointed out the windshield. “But that’s Thornton’s house. So hopefully we’ll find out soon.”

  50

  Family Problems

  We crept around the back of Thornton’s house. The doors and windows were locked tight. No lights were on. A cardinal watched from a nearby tree, head cocked to the side in bird-like curiosity.

  I jiggled the handle on the back door but it wouldn’t budge. “I don’t think Sissy’s in there.”

  Teeny cupped her hands around her eyes and looked through a window. “She could be hiding.”

  “That’s possible,” said Miss May. “But this investigation involves a lot of money. If I were Sissy, I wouldn’t be sitting at home. I’d be out making a run for it.”

  “Do you think she knew we were getting close to her?” asked Teeny. “I bet she did. I bet she smelled our smarts and determination and skipped town.”

  “I suppose she could have smelled it,” said Miss May. “But it’s more likely someone tipped her off. Or maybe she’s been spying on us.”

  “That’s a little far-fetched, I think,” I said. “Sissy doesn’t seem like the type of woman meant for spying. She’s so loud and graceless.”

  Miss May cocked one eyebrow at me. “Does she seem like the type of woman who would kill her own cousin and bury him on an orchard? And then potentially kill her own brother and steal his fortune?”

  I swallowed. “Point taken.”

  “So what do we do now?” Teeny threw up her hands. “If Sissy made a run for it, she could be halfway to Antarctica by now, laughing in one of those big, puffy, winter jackets. What if we’re too late?”

  “No point thinking like that,” said Miss May. “Besides, I have a hunch Sissy is still in this area. There are so many Thorntons around here. They don’t ever seem to go too far.”

  “You think we should track down some of the other Thorntons?” said Teeny. “Maybe they’re hiding her.”

  “I don’t think so,” said Miss May. “Let’s all think for a moment. See what ideas we can come up with. Strategize.”

  “Hang on a second,” I said, interrupting the silent thinking time. “I have a theory. A good one.”

  “Let’s hear it,” said Miss May.

  “Coach Thornton stole tons of money from different organizations up and down the state. Wimple and Sheila told us that. But remember Wimple said that coach had gotten a lot of the donations in cash? That was a big part of why he needed Wimple’s help. He needed a way to make the cash look legitimate. Something like that. I don’t know, money laundering confuses me.”

  “Go on,” said Miss May.

  “I think Coach put together a plan to fake his own death, keep the money, and assume Jared’s identity. He chose Jared because the two of them looked alike. And because Jared had lottery winnings that might explain the sudden excess cash. It’s basically what Teeny said earlier. And I think it’s a great theory.”

  Teeny stood tall. “Thank you. One of my finest.”

  “But even if that’s the case…” I continued. “What if Coach suspected that Wimple and Sheila were onto him? I bet he hid the money. That way if the authorities showed up at his house, there would be no physical proof of his wrongdoing. That’s the thing about cash. It’s tangible. It’s evidence.”

  Miss May licked her top lip and nodded. “Interesting. You’re right. Maybe Thornton hid the money somewhere. But where?”

  I raised my eyebrows and smirked. “The Pine Grove Sports Museum.”

  Miss May and Teeny both erupted with a series of exclamations and gasps. I stood back to let my genius sink in on them for a few seconds. Then I continued.

  “Someone was in the museum that night when we were there. The three of us assumed that person was connected to the murder. And they very well could have been. But they weren’t there trying to kill someone. They were there looking for Thornton’s hidden stash of cash. But then we arrived and ruined everything.”

  “You think that was Sissy in the museum?” said Teeny. “She was so quick and spry.”

  I shook my head. “I think it was Coach Thornton that night in the museum. Remember, he hadn’t actually turned up dead by that point. He was still trying to escape into Jared’s life. But he needed to retrieve his cash first.”

  Teeny gasped. “You’re right. Thornton was in incredible shape. I always noticed his strong legs. And he was stocky but still muscular. Not like most old men.”

  “Teeny,” said Miss May. “Are you confessing that you were attracted to the victims?”

  “No. I’m not saying that at all. But I mean, I’m not blind. The guy had nice legs.”

  “OK,” said Miss May. “Chelsea, you’re right. But whoever was in the museum that night left empty-handed. That means maybe the money is still in that building.”

  I nodded. “Exactly. And maybe Sissy is there right now. Trying to claim her rightful inheritance and escape before it’s too late.”

  51

  Three Strikes

  The shattered glass outside told us someone had broken into the Pine Grove Sports Museum. The question was: were they still in there? And were they dangerous?

  I parked the pickup in front of the museum. We all gawked at the broken glass for a few seconds. Miss May put her hand on my shoulder. “You better call Wayne.”

  The phone rang three times. Then Wayne forwarded me to voicemail. I left a message letting him know where we wer
e and what we suspected. I told him we wouldn’t be able to wait for him to arrive. We were too close. And we had to act.

  I hung up the phone with a sigh. Miss May squeezed my shoulder. “Ready to go in there?”

  The question was rhetorical. But behind that rhetorical question was genuine concern. We all knew if our investigation came to a physical altercation, it would be up to me and my karate skills to vanquish our foe. And listen, I was good at karate. But every time I had to fight I felt like a goofy imposter. Like the criminal would see through my fighting stance, push me over like a cardboard cutout, and run away laughing an evil villain’s triumphant cackle.

  My body tingled, as it always did before a big confrontation. But that moment, poised outside the Sports Museum, I felt even more tense than I had before the climax of prior investigations. Miss May, Teeny and I had faced down so many heartless killers. But the murders of Jared and Ron Thornton were the most brutal we had seen.

  I’ll be honest. I was scared.

  We climbed through the hole in the front window, taking careful steps and trying not to cut ourselves on the jagged glass. We didn’t make a sound. But it wouldn’t have mattered if we’d made noise or even broken a whole new window. Because whoever was inside the museum was making a ruckus all on their own. Glass shattered. Something hit the ground with a thud. Drawers opened and closed with ferocity.

  “Someone’s in here,” I whispered.

  “It could be a paranormal being,” said Teeny. “Just saying.”

  “Sounds like a normal being to me,” said Miss May. “Like a burglar looking for loot.”

  I took a few quiet steps toward the source of the sound. Miss May and Teeny crept behind me. From then on, we communicated only via eye contact and hand signals.

  I turned down a long corridor. The sounds were coming from the end of that corridor, around the corner. I braced myself as we approached the corner. Then the sounds stopped.

  I froze and held up my hand for Miss May and Teeny to do the same. They stopped behind me. I turned back and put my finger to my lips, motioning for everyone to stay quiet.

  The sound of quick footsteps erupted from around the corner. Was the burglar running toward us or away from us?

  Only one way to find out.

  I ran around the corner, ready for a fight. But there was no one to be seen. I gasped, pushed my shoulders back and tried to steady my breathing.

  “Sissy? Hello?” No response. “Whoever’s in here, it’s too late. Even if you find the money, you’re not going to get away with it. I’m here to take you to the police department. But if you don’t come willingly, that’s fine too. I’ve already called the police and they’re also on their way.”

  Whoosh!

  A dodgeball zipped past my head.

  Whoosh. Whoosh.

  Two more dodgeballs hurtled toward me. They each hit me square in the chest. I stumbled back into Miss May. Oh no, I thought. Dodgeball! My worst nightmare!

  “They’re fighting with sports equipment,” I said. “Watch out.”

  Three more dodgeballs hurtled toward me. I did my best to avoid the projectiles but ended up punching myself in the face instead of deflecting a ball. Involuntary tears welled in my eyes. This showdown was like a horrible flashback to high school gym class. I had suffered so many humiliating and silly injuries at the hands of Pine Grove sports in my life. Re-living those terrors made me want to crumple myself into a ball and hide in a closet. But I decided in that moment to put those bad memories behind me forever. To change the narrative of my relationship with sports. After all, I was good at karate.

  I straightened up and walked down the hallway into the onslaught of dodgeballs. “I’m not afraid of you! Bring it on.”

  I grabbed a baseball bat from a nearby display and took a wild swing in front of me. The barrage of dodgeballs stopped. Then something else hurtled in my direction. It was a softball. Harder than a dodgeball and much more dangerous. I stepped aside and let the softball whiz by me.

  “Watch out,” I called back to Teeny and Miss May. “Duck into a doorway or something. Take cover!”

  I glanced back. Miss May and Teeny did as I said.

  When I turned back to the hallway, another softball was hurtling toward me. I pulled back the baseball bat, swung, and connected with the ball. The softball careened back in the direction from which it had come.

  Two more softballs came at me with a mechanical rhythm, almost as if they were being propelled by a pitching machine. I connected with them both and kept moving down the hall.

  “You’re not getting away with this,” I called as I slammed another softball back toward its pitcher. “You’re not leaving this building unless you go through me and my bat.”

  Wow. Tough Chelsea is fun. I should try that more often, I thought.

  Then I heard a primal scream. I looked up and Sissy was running toward me, a massive golf club hoisted above her head. Sissy swung the golf club at my skull. I ducked and it smashed the window of a nearby door instead.

  I swung my baseball bat in Sissy’s direction. It slipped out of my hands and whipped off down the hall. Sissy laughed. I could see Coach Thornton’s same evil glare, the same gloating at other people’s failure, in Sissy’s eyes. Almost like she was possessed by her brother’s ruthless competitive spirit.

  Sissy loomed over me and pulled back the golf club once more. My eyes darted around the hall for some form of assistance. That’s when I spotted a trophy case dedicated to Pine Grove’s color guard.

  I spun away from Sissy, opened the case and grabbed a long color guard ribbon. Sissy took a big swing at me with the club. She missed by half an inch. I took advantage of Sissy’s brief moment of disorientation, right after her big offensive move, and lashed out with the color guard ribbon.

  In one swift motion, I lassoed Sissy then yanked the ribbon back toward myself, wrapping Sissy up at the ankles and knees. Then I stepped back and pulled as hard as I could. Sissy hit the ground with a resounding thump. I grabbed another color guard ribbon, knelt on Sissy’s back, and tied her hands together with a double knot.

  Miss May and Teeny ran toward me from down the hall. “Chelsea. Are you OK?”

  I sat with my back against the wall, glaring at Sissy. She looked exhausted. Defeated. Hopeless.

  “I’m good. I got her.”

  Sissy sneered at me. “You don’t deserve your pride.”

  I stammered. What a biting remark. I didn’t know what to reply. “Hey. That’s not nice.”

  Good one, Chelsea.

  “You think you’re clever because you caught me in a stupid ribbon? All three of you think you’re special? You think you have a strong, beautiful family? You think your friendship is remarkable?”

  Teeny shrugged. “Pretty much.”

  “Family is nothing. It’s a myth. You’ll discover that one day. And then you’ll understand why I did what I did.”

  “We do understand,” said Miss May. “Your brother stole money from generous organizations in this area, under the sham of helping underprivileged athletes. Then people started getting suspicious of him. So he came to you with a plan. Kill your cousin Jared. Then Ron would assume Jared’s identity and live happily ever after with all the stolen cash. But how did he get you to participate? Did he promise you half the money?”

  “Good job, May,” said Sissy. “You’re right. That tells me you’re far more cynical than I gave you credit for. Maybe you do understand the way the world works. Every man and woman for themselves.”

  “The way the world works is that when you do something bad you get punished,” said Miss May. “And you did two bad things. First you killed your cousin for a cut of your brother’s stolen money. Then you killed your brother because you wanted it all. Of course we’re proud that we caught you. You shouldn’t be allowed to walk the streets of this great town.”

  “I bet she stole Jared’s lottery winnings, too,” Teeny said.

  “Jared spent those winnings up years ago.” Sis
sy started to cry. Her sobs were ugly and loud, like how I imagined a bullfrog might cry. “And I loved my brother! What happened to him was an accident. He was giving a clinic to the kids at the high school. He kept them late, running sprints. Then all the kids left and Ronny called me for a ride home. I arrived to pick him up from the gym and he was the only one in there. He was in a mood that day. Stressed. Freaked out. Worried that we’d get caught for killing Jared. Trying to figure out what to do with the money. How to assume Jared’s identity without raising any eyebrows. The big idiot hadn’t thought that far ahead. Yeah, he promised me a cut to help him with Jared. But that night in the gym, he told me he was keeping every penny for himself. We argued on the stairs. Things got emotional. He grabbed his left arm. Grabbed his chest. Collapsed. He wouldn’t wake up, so I shoved him in the closet and I left. I was too scared to call 911 and I think I knew in my heart he was dead. But I never would’ve done that to my brother. Not on purpose.”

  Miss May shook her head. “This is all terrible.”

  Sissy looked up with big, sad eyes. “Let me go. I’ve learned my lesson. I’ll never do this again. I promise!”

  Teeny scoffed. “Yeah, right.”

  “Hold on a second,” said Miss May. “Seems to me Wimple and Sheila were on to Thornton. If those two were the problem, why didn’t Ron just kill them instead of faking his own death? Seems to me they were the only ones who knew about the stolen money.”

  “Ron had a crush on them.”

  Miss May raised her eyebrows. “Both of them?”

  Sissy shrugged. “What can I say? He always was a ladies’ man.”

  “Did you ever find where he hid the money?” said Miss May.

  Sissy grimaced at Miss May. “What do you think?”

  52

  Sheriffs and Deputies