The Smoking Bun (Apple Orchard Cozy Mystery Book 10)

by Chelsea Thomas

  I made a stop at the bathroom before we left, but a huge line had formed and I didn’t want to wait. I vaguely remembered from when Petey had given us a grand opening tour that the restaurant had another bathroom upstairs, so I climbed the rickety old staircase near the front entrance to find out if my memory was correct.

  The second floor of Peter’s Land and Sea was a large banquet space that did not get much use. Sure enough, however, there was a bathroom along the far wall. I pushed the door open but it got stuck on something. I leaned into the door with my shoulder to try to push it open further, but the door wouldn’t budge.

  “Hello?” I called out. “Is someone in there?”

  No one responded so I slithered through the opening in the doorway and stepped into the small bathroom.

  For a moment I couldn’t make any sense of the scene before me. There was a sink and a toilet, of course. But there was also a man sprawled across the floor in a terrible, unnatural position.

  A pool of dark red fluid ran from the man’s head and streaked through the white grout in the tiles. And a leaky faucet made a horrible dripping noise that made my hair stand on end.

  I took a deep breath and made my way over to the man. I crouched down to get a look at his face. It was Buck, Petey’s head chef. His skin was cold to the touch. And when I raised his hand and dropped it, the hand thudded to the floor, lifeless.

  Buck was dead. And I had a feeling it would be up to me, Teeny, and Miss May to find out how he died and, probably, who killed him.

  6

  Dead Chef

  Over the course of the investigations I had conducted with Teeny and Miss May, I had learned that it's often best for us to survey the scene of the crime before the police interfere. So I barricaded myself in the bathroom with the dead body and texted Teeny and Miss May to tell them to come upstairs. I tried not to look at Buck’s dead body as I waited, but morbid curiosity drew my eyes to the corpse.

  Based on the position of Buck’s body, I deduced that he had fallen to his death from a standing position and had not, rather, been engaged in a struggle on the floor at the time of his death.

  I also noticed a crack on the tiled wall slightly above the floor that had been spattered with blood. It appeared to me that Buck might have hit his head on the tile when he had fallen down.

  Although Buck had been wearing his chef’s whites during his argument with Petey out by the dumpster, when he died he was wearing a crisp black T-shirt. That could easily be explained, I thought. Perhaps the chef’s whites were uncomfortable or had gotten dirty, so Buck had taken them off to come up to the bathroom.

  There was a soft knock at the bathroom door and I stood up right. “Hello?”

  “Chelsea. Let us in.”

  I held open the bathroom door and Miss May and Teeny squeezed their way inside just as I had. When Teeny saw the dead body she widened her eyes and clasped her hands over her mouth. “Oh my goodness… Chelsea… Did you…”

  “I didn't kill Buck,” I said. “I can't believe you think I'm capable of that.”

  Teeny stammered for a few seconds but couldn't find words, so she gave me an apologetic shrug instead.

  Miss May crouched beside the body to get a closer look. I took the opportunity to fill Teeny and Miss May in on the details I had observed. Teeny couldn't look away from the body, and as I spoke the horrified expression on her face didn't fade. But Miss May paid careful attention to my words and nodded at the important details.

  When I stopped talking, Miss May pointed over to the trashcan beneath the sink. “You missed an important piece of information.”

  I peered into the garbage. A plump, sugary cinnamon bun, the edges burnt and charred, sat at the top of the trashcan with one bite taken out. “I'm confused. That’s a cinnamon bun.”

  Teeny looked over. “I bet they stole my recipe for that, too.”

  Miss May shot Teeny a look. “Everyone knows I make the best cinnamon buns in town.”

  “Whatever,” said Teeny.

  “How is this cinnamon bun related?” I asked. “I mean, it’s slightly burnt, so I’m surprised anyone took a bite of it, but—”

  “Touch it,” said Miss May. “I suspect it's still warm.”

  I looked down at the cinnamon bun like it was the monster under my bed. “I don't want to touch that.”

  Miss May's stern glanced insisted. I steeled my nerves by shaking out my hands then I reached out and touched the cinnamon bun. “You're right. It's still warm. What does that mean?”

  “It means I don't think Buck died from this head wound. The gash isn’t very deep and it doesn't appear that there’s a deadly amount of blood here.”

  “You think someone poisoned that cinnamon bun,” said Teeny. “I knew it. That's what I was thinking. Poisoned baked goods are such a tragic way to die. Cinnamon buns should be a force for good in this world. Never evil.” Teeny glanced over at Buck who remained prone on the floor. “Poor guy thought he was sneaking up to the bathroom to eat a sweet treat in secret. Then this happens.”

  I spotted something across the room. “I think I found another clue. Look at the toilet.”

  I stood above the toilet. Teeny and Miss May crowded around me, stepping over Bucks corpse to get as close as possible. “I don't know how I missed this the first time. But it's clear this doesn't add up.”

  “What?” Teeny threw up her hands in impatient frustration.

  “Hold on,” said Miss May. “I want to figure this out.”

  Miss May leaned over and looked in the toilet bowl. Nothing but a little bit of clear water. She craned her neck to the right and to the left to look around the sides of the bowl. Everything appeared normal there as well. My chest swelled with pride as Miss May scratched her head, looking stumped. It wasn't often that I discovered an important clue before Miss May, so I allowed myself to gloat for a few seconds.

  “Want me to tell you what the great Chelsea sees?” I asked.

  Miss May closed her eyes and nodded. “Please, oh Great One. Enlighten me.”

  “This toilet is running. And the water is low. I think this bathroom is out of order.” I tried to flush the toilet and the loose handle jiggled and clanked. Sure enough, the bowl was not functioning.

  “Now this is a conspiracy,” said Teeny. “Buck came up to a nonworking bathroom… With a cinnamon bun? Maybe it's how I said. Maybe he was just eating in secret.”

  “But who chooses to eat in a bathroom?” Miss May asked.

  “Exactly,” I agreed. “And who chooses to go to a bathroom that’s not functioning if they need to relieve themselves?”

  We all stood there in silent thought. I looked down at Buck, then I felt disrespectful so I looked away. Then I focused my eyes back on the bowl. After a few seconds of listening to the perpetually running toilet, I looked over at Teeny and Miss May. They looked just as confused as I felt.

  “I feel bad,” said Teeny. “Real bad.”

  Miss May nodded. “It's always sad to find a dead body.”

  “This one's even worse for me,” said Teeny. “I called this guy ugly to his face right before he died. I said a lot of nasty stuff to him.”

  “That's OK, Teeny,” I said. “Buck was kind of a nasty guy, all due respect. You should have heard him yelling at Petey. And he stole your recipe. And—”

  There was a knock at the door. Miss May, Teeny and I stood perfectly still like we had been caught robbing a bank. Miss May cleared her throat. “Yes?”

  Suddenly the door edged open and a young woman stepped through. I recognized her as one of the waitresses from the restaurant, Rebecca. When Rebecca saw Buck’s dead body, she screamed and backed against the wall.

  We had no choice but to call the cops.

  7

  Cop Outs

  Pine Grove is one of those unfortunate towns to have a prideful, arrogant chief of police. Chief Sunshine Flanagan had risen through the ranks quickly, which I think contributed to her unpalatable personality and her insecurity. It was
never fun when she arrived on the scene of a crime.

  Aside from her gruff and disrespectful personality, Sunshine also had a preternatural ability to make me feel like an ugly duckling. Her legs were taller than my whole body, and her flowing red hair was always wavy and shiny.

  That morning, Sunshine insisted on splitting me, Teeny, and Miss May apart so she could “compare our stories.” She wouldn't let any other detectives speak to us, especially Wayne. Sure, maybe Wayne had a slight bias in our favor. But I was also pretty sure that Sunshine had her lady heart set on Wayne and she resented his affection for me.

  It was at least three hours before the three of us were released from police custody. And once we were together again, we all agreed: it was time for lunch.

  Half an hour later, Miss May and I were seated in our favorite booth at Teeny's restaurant, ready to eat. Although we had told Teeny that we’d be fine with something simple, Teeny was determined to “cook us something nice.” And she insisted we wait to discuss the case until the food was ready. So Miss May and I sat in pained silence for what felt like eternity as Teeny cooked.

  My eyes drooped as we waited and my forehead was about to hit the table when Teeny finally appeared and placed a large platter of macaroni and cheese on the table. Somehow I felt more awake as soon as I saw the food. “Macaroni and cheese. Yum.”

  I grabbed a fork but Teeny held up her hand to stop me from taking a bite. “No, no. This isn’t a regular old macaroni and cheese. It's truffle macaroni and cheese.”

  Miss May narrowed her eyes. “Where did you get truffles?”

  “I swiped a few during all the commotion at Peter's Land and Sea,” said Teeny. “No one was looking, they were all too concerned with the murder or whatever.”

  Miss May hung her head. “It won't be good for our credibility as sleuths if we steal from crime scenes.”

  “They stole from me first,” said Teeny. “Take a bite, let me know what you think.” Miss May glared. Teeny huffed impatiently. “I won’t do it again, OK? Now take a bite. You're ticking me off!”

  Miss May and I each took a bite of the macaroni and cheese. I cocked my head to the side and looked at Teeny. I couldn’t taste anything other than cheese and pasta, which was how I liked it. “This has truffles in it?”

  “Shoot. You can’t taste them.” Teeny shook her head. “They say a little goes a long way so I only used a tiny bit.”

  I giggled. “Fine with me. I'm a purist, anyway. When it comes to mac and cheese, at least.”

  “Take a seat, Teeny,” Miss May said. “Let's talk about this murder.”

  Teeny slid into the booth and devoured a heaping forkful of macaroni and cheese. “Are we sure it's a murder?” Teeny asked. “I know the scene suggested murder and usually, in Pine Grove, it is murder… But I was recently watching Season 9, Episode 28 of Jenna and Mr. Flowers—”

  “Real life is not like the BBC,” Miss May said. “You need to stop comparing our cases to your favorite shows!”

  “Will you let me talk?” asked Teeny.

  Miss May gestured for Teeny to continue and Teeny got right back into her story. “OK. So. In this episode of Jenna and Mr. Flowers something that had all the appearances of a murder was actually a suicide. It was a great episode. Lots of twists and turns. And a very relaxing scene set on a farm with cute little cows. Do we think suicide might be possible here?”

  “I don’t think so,” said Miss May. “It would be odd for Buck to have committed suicide in the upstairs bathroom at his place of work in the middle of a busy morning rush. And it would be even stranger for him to commit suicide by eating one bite of a poisoned cinnamon bun or falling with the deliberate intent of hitting his head on the wall and causing a deadly wound.”

  “I agree,” I said. “If Buck was going to commit suicide, he would have done it at home.”

  “So the guy was murdered,” said Miss May. “What does that mean?”

  “Well,” I said, “Buck was killed sometime between the moment I heard him arguing with Petey and the moment I found him in the bathroom. So chances are the killer was in the restaurant with us. But that’s so bizarre. Why would a murderer kill their victim in such a public place?”

  “Maybe because murdering someone in a public place is the perfect cover,” said Teeny. “Think about it. There were at least 100 people in the restaurant, not including the staff. Any one of them could be guilty. It’s like Where's Waldo? for catching a killer.”

  “That's a good point,” said Miss May. “One of the guests could have had a secret vendetta against Buck. Or a member of the staff could have done it. It could have been anyone in that place.”

  “It could have been Petey,” I said.

  “Petey’s soft,” said Teeny. “You said so yourself. After Buck yelled at him, the kid broke down into tears.”

  “What if Petey hardened after that?” I said. “What if he wiped his tears away and decided he had finally had enough so Petey pushed Buck down or fed him the poisoned bun or whatever?”

  “I'm not sure if it matters whether or not Buck was pushed or killed by the cinnamon bun,” said Miss May. “The simple fact is—"

  “I think it matters,” I interrupted. “If Buck was pushed down, that’s a crime of passion. But if someone went through the trouble to bake poison into a cinnamon bun, that’s pre-meditated, which is a whole different set of suspects, motives, everything.”

  “But how are we going to figure that out?” Teeny asked.

  We sat in silence for a moment, stumped. Then I had an idea.

  “I think we should try to find out if the staff knew that the upstairs bathroom was out of order,” I said. “If everyone knew the bathroom was broken, Buck would have had to have been lured there by the killer.”

  “Right,” said Miss May. “And I think you’re correct to suspect the staff. As far as I see it the most likely suspects are disgruntled employees, Petey, or Rebecca, the waitress that entered the bathroom before we left.”

  “Why Rebecca?” I asked.

  Miss May shrugged. “It's possible she was revisiting the scene of the crime to make sure her victim was dead.”

  “Teeny was seen publicly yelling at Buck yesterday at Grandma's, and she was complaining about him with vigor in line this morning. So I think she's going to be a suspect too.”

  Teeny snorted and rolled her eyes. “That is so ridiculous. I don't kill people. I catch killers!”

  “But you can’t change the facts,” said Miss May. “Chelsea's right. The police are going to flag you as a suspect in this, sooner rather than later.”

  “So let's hurry up and solve this thing,” Teeny said.

  “My thoughts exactly.” Miss May stood and pulled on her coat. “I think we should talk to Petey first.”

  8

  A Flood of Tears

  Petey stood in the center of the dining room at Land and Sea, addressing his staff. He spoke in a somber tone and sobbed as he struggled to get through the announcement of Buck’s passing.

  “I don’t know if Petey is cut out to be the owner of a restaurant,” I said.

  “Sure he is,” said Miss May. “He’s connecting to his staff. Showing empathy.”.

  “Maybe we should come back later,” said Teeny. “I don’t remember Petey being so much of crier. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. It’s perfectly fine for men to cry. And this is an extreme circumstance.”

  “You don’t have to explain yourself to us,” said Miss May. “We know you’re not judging anyone. And we also know it’s strange that Petey is crying in front of all his employees. Blubbering, really. Can either of you make out any of the words he’s saying?”

  I leaned forward to try to hear. “I think he said the word kitchen. And maybe he said something about sadness and perseverance? Seems like he’s trying to do an emotional, powerful pep talk like in one of those TV shows about high school football coaches.”

  “Clear eyes, full hearts, can’t lose,” said Teeny, quoting the cla
ssic NBC show, Friday Night Lights.

  I smirked and look over at her. “You like Friday Night Lights?”

  “I like Coach Taylor,” said Teeny. “He’s no Big Dan, don’t get me wrong. But I’m a sucker for a strong-willed leader. He got those kids through some tough times and helped them achieve greatness on the grid iron that extended into their personal lives. You’ve got to admire that.”

  The group gathered around Petey broke up as Petey concluded his tearful speech. Then the employees trudged toward the exit, mumbling in sadness and dabbing their eyes. Rebecca, the girl who’d walked in on us in the bathroom, shuffled like a zombie, with bedraggled hair and red, puffy cheeks.

  “Poor kids are taking this so hard,” said Miss May. “Working in a restaurant is already stressful. I can’t imagine having to deal with a murdered head chef on top of that.”

  “Let’s talk to Petey.” Teeny led the way over to Petey and Miss May and I followed.

  Petey let out a big sigh when he saw us coming and gave us a halfhearted wave. “Hi.”

  “How are you doing, Petey?” Teeny gave Petey a hug and took a step back. “You look terrible. How long have you been crying?”

  “Six or seven hours,” Petey murmured in a faraway voice. “My eyes hurt.”

  “I bet they do,” said Miss May. She gestured to a nearby table and pulled out a chair. “Take a seat. Let’s talk.”

  Petey nodded. He sat down and buried his head in his hands. “This is terrible.”

  Teeny put her hand on Petey’s arm. “I know. We’re all so sorry this happened. It’s no secret Buck could be difficult. But you saw him every day and worked with him every day. I’m sure you saw a lot of good in him, despite your differences.”

  Petey removed his hands from his face and looked over at me. “You told them about the argument.”

  I gave Petey an apologetic shrug. “Sorry. Buck was so mean and you were crying so much… I couldn’t keep it to myself.”