Murder in the Apple Orchard

by Sandi Scott

  “Well, I am thrilled you like it. And I hope you enjoy your stay. I brought some cookies for you both and also bath salts that I forgot to put in your bathroom.” She handed the items over to Aleta who thought they both smelled like heaven. “What brings you up this way? We don’t usually get many walk-ins. Most people make their reservation several months in advance.”

  Aleta gave Betty the condensed version of what happened at the Apple Harvest Orchard.

  “You’re kidding!” Betty gasped. “We had the castle booked for several months in anticipation of that wedding. We got to know the family well. I think I better give them a call in a couple days. Yikes.”

  “Did you know Tony and Veronica well?”

  “You know, Charlotte was doing all the planning. She was thrilled her daughter was getting married. And, as far as I knew, she adored Tony. They were really sparing no expense for the big day. Oh, I do hope they can get their deposits back.”

  “Do you think that was what was putting the Orchard in financial trouble?” Aleta asked.

  “The orchard wasn’t in any trouble,” Betty shook her head. “That place is making money hand over fist. I heard talk that they were going to buy a few more acres and expand the pumpkin patch. No. No financial trouble there.

  “That’s good to know. My sister and I came up to spend the day and just fell in love with the place. We live kind of far away and wanted to go back tomorrow, since everything was cut short today due to the tragedy. Can you suggest anywhere we might be able to buy some essentials? You know ladies our age can’t go a day without our night creams and lotions.”

  “Of course. I don’t blame you,” Betty nodded. “If you continue down this road out front, you’ll run into a small stretch of town. There are some shops there. A couple of pubs that serve food. A drug store for any additional toiletries you might need.”

  “That’s fantastic. I’m sure my sister and I will need to pick up a few things,” Aleta said, “I should get back. Georgie has the tendency to get in trouble when I’m not with her.”

  “Of course,” Betty smiled. She had a cherubic face and her hair was in a loose bun, making her look the part of a peasant girl. “If you are interested, I’m not sure how into it you want to get, but downstairs in the cellar, there are dozens of costumes for knights, handmaidens, princesses and queens and just about everything in between. You are more than welcome to dress up and take a few pictures of yourselves. There are also board games down there. Check the library of movies, but they all follow the theme of the castle. And, that is also where we keep the wine. A bottle is down there if you guys would like to have a nip before bed. If you require anything stronger, Shakey’s Liquor Store is down the road.”

  Aleta laughed and thanked Betty again before returning to the room. Georgie was already in the shower.

  “Hey, I found out some interesting things from Lady Betty.”

  “Yeah, well, go ahead because I am never getting out of this shower. Do you know the stones in the floor are heated?”

  “What?”

  “Yes. That little switch over there heats the FLOOR!” Georgie shouted. “How am I supposed to go back home after this? My home with its plaster walls and cold, harsh floors.”

  “I’ll call Emily and have her check on Bodhi and Freckles.”

  “Tell her thank you,” Georgie shouted, as she stood in the middle of the shower while beads of water gently pelted her body. Her mind took a slight respite from the Tony Beaumont death and she just enjoyed herself. As soon as she started to consider what could have made the marks on Tony’s wrists, Georgie’s memory flashed back to Stan.

  ‘Ugh,” she growled. What could he possibly see in her? She was a Plain Jane, if ever there was one. And that nonsense about the rope? What was she trying to prove? Didn’t Stan tell her about the cases they’d solved together? Apparently not. And that made Georgie mad.

  She wondered if he’d spoken about their children or if he’d mentioned going west to the mountains to dig for gold. Or did she just get the squeaky-clean version of him being divorced and working full time as the head detective of the Ninety-Sixth Precinct.

  Where did he take her? Did they have romantic dinners by candlelight? Did he take her dancing, something he only did with Georgie on their wedding day. Did he buy her little gifts? Did she spend the night?”

  “Hey, don’t hog all the hot water!” Aleta shouted into the bathroom.

  “Whaaa? Oh, yeah. I’m done.” Thanks to Stan, she was no longer enjoying her shower. She grabbed a luxurious robe from the hook on the door and wrapped it around her full figure. It didn’t close very well, but it was only Aleta with her. Everything about them was identical except chest and hip size.

  “Are you going to take a bath, too, Chesty?” Aleta teased, as Georgie tried to cover her bosom better.

  “No, you go ahead.”

  “What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing. I’m fine.”

  Georgie, you can’t fool me. It’s that Maggie woman, isn’t it?”

  “Aleta, what’s the matter with me? I expected Stan to understand that I was going out with Obby. But, for some reason, him going out with someone else seems more like a countermove than a legitimate search for love.”

  “I don’t think Stan will ever love anyone but you, Georgie,” Aleta said. “But you did meet Obby, and you guys have a lot in common. You both love art and all things artistic and creative. You speak the same language. I think that’s what is going on with Maggie.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. I think she and Stan had police work as their common bond.”

  “But, I have helped Stan solve some of his crimes. I’ve even beat him to it,” Georgie harrumphed. “If he thinks he’s going to find another me, he’s off his rocker.”

  “Don’t you see? You are the litmus test. If a woman can be sleuthy enough and be creative and sexy and smart on top of it, he will have a comparable substitute for the real thing.”

  “But Maggie isn’t sexy,” Georgie said, matter-of-factly.

  “Maybe not to you.”

  “Maybe not to a red-blooded American man like Stan.”

  “Well, he must see something in her he likes. He let her paw him in front of everyone like they were in high school,” Aleta shuddered.

  “You saw that? Why didn’t you tell me you saw that?”

  “Because, Georgie, I wanted to reserve my judgment and make sure I didn’t dislike her for my own reasons and not because my sister was feeling blue about her.”

  “Well, let’s not talk about her anymore. Tell me what you learned from Lady Betty.” Georgie turned the water on in the bear claw tub for her sister, “It’ll take about an hour to fill this up, so you’ve got time.”

  The ladies laughed as they ate the chocolate chip cookies and dropped some of the sea salts into the massive tub. Aleta told Georgie about the other rooms in the house and about the Slute wedding guests staying at the castle for Veronica’s big day.

  “They also said the orchard is making money.”

  “Really?” Georgie held up a towel to give her sister privacy as she climbed in the tub. Then, she pulled a small ottoman into the bathroom to sit on as they continued the conversation.

  “Crazy money,” Aleta continued.

  “Okay, so Marvin was wrong about the place getting sold if it’s making money. Unless, there was another reason why they wanted to sell,” Georgie grabbed another cookie and took a bite. “Or, maybe they never intended to sell.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Say they decided not to give raises this year, or Christmas bonuses. A perfect reason would be that the orchard was struggling,” Georgie coughed as a piece of cookie went down the wrong pipe. “I doubt your friend knows more than the rumors everyone knows.”

  “Very true,” Aleta said with her chin just above the steaming water.

  “I think we’ll just have to see what we can find out tomorrow,” Georgie said. “What should we do in the meant
ime?”

  “I think we need to visit the cellar,” Aleta suggested.

  “What’s in the cellar?”

  “You’ll see,” Aleta smirked.

  Chapter 7

  After Aleta’s bath and Georgie taking a quick nap, the ladies headed downstairs to the cellar. Except for the modern carpeting and a widescreen television, the walls were covered with wood, huge paintings in elaborate gold frames depicting vast country scenes that would be found in Ireland or England, and elegant tapestries hanging from the rods.

  There were several sconces glowing along the walls. Another rectangular table with a bench on either side sat behind the modern leather sofa and love seat that faced the television. A small fireplace was nestled in the corner of the room and the kitchenette set into one wall was home to a mini fridge, a sink, a cutting block in the middle and a wrought iron wine rack that was locked.

  There was one dark room off the kitchenette that Aleta pointed to saying, “Let’s explore in here.”

  “What’s in there?” Georgie asked.

  Aleta walked in and flipped on the light. It was the most elegant walk-in closet, home to elegant maiden dresses, suits of faux armor, chainmail hoods, velvet capes, jester caps and dozens of props like wands, shields, swords and crowns.

  “This is insane,” Georgie chuckled.

  “Lady Betty said we can put on the costumes and take our picture if we wanted,” Aleta sounded especially interested in enjoying the bottle of wine that was sitting on a low shelving unit filled with soft slippers. “There. She said there’d be a bottle of wine. Come on, sis. While we’re here, let’s have some fun. For tomorrow, we solve a murder.”

  “When you put it that way,” Georgie went into the kitchenette to retrieve the corkscrew. “I’m in.”

  The ladies giggled like they did when they were children playing dress-up. They dressed as pub wenches, as knights, and settled on finishing the bottle of wine as princesses in velvety robes that pooled around their feet with crowns of glittery crystals and glass stones.

  “Get one more picture, Aleta,” Georgie posed with her wine glass.

  “That’s a good one. You should use it for your Christmas cards,” Aleta said as she snapped her phone camera.

  “I wish I had Bodhi. He’d look so cute.”

  “Oh, he would. The little pampered pug prince that he is,” Aleta concurred.

  “Still, I can’t figure out the angle of this dramatic suicide at the orchard.” Flopping down on the leather couch, Georgie sipped her wine. “Doesn’t it just seem wrong to you.”

  “Well, if we could find out what the autopsy says, we might have a better idea of what really happened.” Aleta took a seat on the floor and sat cross-legged. “It might be hard to believe, but the guy might have really just killed himself... in the most horribly public way imaginable.”

  THE NEXT DAY, THERE was a skeleton crew working at the orchard. The schools had canceled many of the field trips. Georgie and Aleta were able to park at the very front of the huge grass lot where they’d parked yesterday.

  “I can’t believe you are wearing that shirt,” Aleta grimaced.

  “What are you talking about? It’s festive,” Georgie grumbled, as she tugged at the hem.

  “It’s a little blatant.”

  Georgie stretched out the shirt in front of her, looking down. It was a soft gray with a set of fangs and the words “Careful, I bite” written across it. Not to mention how daring the V-neck dipped.

  “Is that Stan?” Aleta pointed to the unmistakable silhouette of her brother-in-law standing in front of the big red barn.

  “Is that the photographer?” Georgie jerked her chin in the same direction. “Didn’t she take enough pictures yesterday?”

  “Down, girl.”

  “I can’t help it, Aleta. I might have gone out with Obby a couple times, but I never waved him in front of Stan like this.”

  “That is true,” Aleta let out a big sigh. “Do you want to go in the other direction, or do you want to swallow this medicine in one horrible gulp?”

  “Open wide,” Georgie adjusted her blouse and smoothed it down the front.

  Stan did a double take as he saw Georgie coming.

  “You’ve definitely caught his attention,” Aleta whispered. “And it looks like you’ve caught the attention of the photographer, too.”

  Georgie saw the look on Maggie Hoffentop’s face when she walked up to Stan.

  “How did I know I’d see you here?” Stan said, his eyebrows raised as he looped his thumbs through the loops on his belt.

  “We didn’t get a chance to get our apples yesterday, and both of us wanted to get a few pumpkins to decorate our houses with,” Georgie said.

  “Is that so?”

  “Yeah, that’s so,” Georgie put her hands on her hips and tilted her head to the right. “Why? Do you think I’m lying?”

  “No. Of course not,” Stan looked at the ground like a dog that accidentally chewed up a slipper.

  “Stan, did you find out anything from the autopsy?” Aleta rushed in.

  “They haven’t finished yet,” He smiled at his ex-sister-in-law.

  “What a terribly public way to die,” Aleta said as she looked up at the loft.

  “That’s not uncommon. Especially when people are taking medications that screw up their thinking,” Stan said. He looked at Georgie.

  “I wonder what those marks were around his wrists?” Georgie mumbled.

  “How do you know about those?” Stan asked. It made Georgie feel good to see him surprised.

  “I saw them when they brought the body down. Any idea what might have caused those?” Georgie took a deep breath, opening her eyes wide and leaning in closer to Stan.

  “We aren’t sure. We’ve got a couple of people saying he had been helping pull a tractor from the mud a few days ago and wrapped the rope around his wrists for a better grip.” Stan ran his hand through his hair, as if he wanted that to be the cause for the marks. But it was obvious he didn’t quite believe it.

  “You don’t think that’s the case?” Georgie asked.

  “I can tell by your face that you don’t either.”

  Georgie smirked and shook her head. She gently poked Stan in the chest before continuing her questions, “What about the mother? Did you get a chance to speak to her?”

  “Yeah. She had nothing but wonderful things to say about Tony. Whether or not she actually meant them, I don’t know. The shock of this kind of situation makes people not want to speak ill of the dead,” Stan answered.

  “Did she mention anything about conflicts or public displays of aggression between the two?” Aleta asked.

  “She never said anything like that. But, they did just find the guy hanging from their barn with a noose around his neck. You’d have to be pretty cold-hearted to air out dirty laundry at a time like that,” Stan said. “Charlotte did say that Veronica and Tony were leaving the orchard. Going west to start a life together out there. She said her daughter’s heart just wasn’t into the orchard anymore.”

  “That happens,” Aleta replied. “Not all children want to follow in their parent’s footsteps.”

  Georgie and Stan nodded and then looked at each other.

  “Look, Georgie,” he stepped up close to her and leaned towards her ear. Aleta, familiar with this maneuver, took a few steps back and gave them some privacy.

  “Stan, are you and Maggie dating?” Georgie couldn’t stop the words. Her brain wasn’t thinking as she said them. Stan’s cologne had intoxicated her for the moment and she let the words tumble out.

  “We’ve gone out a few times,” Stan admitted, quietly.

  “Okay,” Georgie said. Although no one would ever know it, her heart cracked for a moment. “Well, you don’t have to keep that a secret from me.” She looked up into his cool blue eye and managed to smile.

  “This wasn’t how I wanted you to find out,” he replied.

  “It’s okay, Stan,” she lied. “She seems very n
ice.” Georgie lied. She didn’t think Maggie seemed nice, at all. In fact, she thought she seemed like a dingbat.

  “You’d like her Georgie. If you gave her a chance,” Stan added.

  Like hell I would. Georgie smiled as the thought raced through her mind.

  “So, have you spoken to anyone else about Tony’s condition?” Georgie asked.

  Stan smirked and shook his head. He stuffed his hands in the back pockets of his jeans and stood there in front of Georgie. “Is that all you have to say?”

  “What else am I supposed to say, Stan?” she asked, with her own hint of attitude.

  “You can’t ask me anything about her? You can’t even pretend to be interested? Georgie, Maggie and I are dating, and I would, kind of, like your blessing.”

  “Oh, I see,” Georgie smirked. “You mean like the blessing you gave me when I said I was going to go out with Obby? Is that the kind of blessing you are looking for? Because I don’t get jealous, Stan, it’s unbecoming.”

  Aleta heard that last comment and held her tongue. She’d never give up her sister’s secrets, but, at the same time, if Stan didn’t see this was rubbing Georgie the wrong way, he was either blind or he was enjoying the attention a little bit too much. Neither reason set well with her.

  “Come on, Georgie,” Stan kept his voice down.

  “I’ll tell you what. Tell me where you guys are registering and I’ll be sure to pick you up a nice set of knives. Or, maybe you’d like matching prospector’s hats. You won’t have to leave her behind to raise your kids.”

  Stan could never win as long as that wound was still open. And, from the sound of Georgie’s voice, it was as raw right now as it had been the day Stan left. Part of Aleta thought that it was a sign of just how much Georgie had loved this man. His leaving in search of gold, and to find himself, was a betrayal she couldn’t comprehend, even after all these years. And now, in Georgie’s eyes, he had the audacity to step out and actually try and be happy with someone else? Who did he think he was?