“You would have told us anyway, Petey,” said Teeny.
Petey shook his head. “Not you. You’re my mentor. I want you to think I have my head on straight. That I have everything under control. This place is supposed to be successful. And my kitchen is supposed to be a harmonious place, like yours. But I’m a failure.”
“You’re not a failure,” said Teeny.
“My head chef got killed during business hours,” said Petey. “He wouldn’t listen to anything I said, and he hated my guts.”
“Did you hate him as well?” Miss May asked.
Petey sighed. “He disrespected me, and that got on my nerves. And I didn’t always agree with his ethics. Like the whole hashbrown lasagna thing. I begged him not to make that dish but he did anyway.”
“I knew you wouldn’t have stolen my recipe,” said Teeny.
“Of course not. But I couldn’t totally hate Buck, either. Not even after he stole the recipe. Before I hired him, the restaurant was struggling. I was worried I was going to have to close. But Buck saved this place, so I suppose he deserved to be as arrogant as he wanted.”
“Arrogance is a mask for insecurity,” I said. “I’m sure Buck hated the fact that you owned the restaurant even though you’re so much younger than him. And that’s why he treated you with disdain.”
“That’s what my therapist says,” said Petey. “You’re smart.”
The compliment felt good, even in the midst of tragedy. Although I can be bumbling and clumsy and foolish with stunning regularity, I liked to think I understood people and their feelings pretty well. It felt good for someone to notice that.
“I told my therapist I didn’t care that Buck was mean to me. But I did care. I knew it wasn’t right for anyone to mistreat me like that, no matter how insecure they might be. There are plenty of chefs in the world. Buck did a good job, sure. But he wasn’t so special. A lot of people hated him and that wasn’t good for business.”
Petey had an angry glint in his eye when he talked about Buck’s cooking. He leaned forward in his chair and his speech got faster and faster. “When people start to think they’re too good for the place they work that’s a problem! When they think they can do whatever they want, no matter what? It’s not cool. And it’s not right. And it’s not fair and it’s not right.”
Miss May looked at me, concerned. Petey was being manic and repetitive and his vibe was unsettling. But then she turned back to Petey and spoke in a gentle tone. “You’re right, Petey. There’s never an excuse to be unkind to others. How did you say you found Buck?”
“He answered an ad I placed online,” said Petey. “The day he came in for an interview I had twenty great questions prepared. He refused to answer any of them and said he would cook me an omelette instead. The omelette didn’t have any fancy truffles or exquisite beef or anything like that. It was simple and it was the best thing I had ever tasted. So I hired him on the spot. I wanted to trust my tastebuds and I thought I was so cool for throwing all my questions away and following my gut. But I was an idiot.”
“And how long ago was that?” Miss May asked. “When did you hire Buck?”
“About two months ago,” Petey said. “Right before things started to turn around at the restaurant.”
Miss May jotted down a few notes then looked back up at Petey. “Can you tell us about the bathroom where Buck was discovered?”
“Was it an employee bathroom?” asked Teeny.
Petey nodded. “Yeah but it’s been out of order for a few days, so the staff have been using the downstairs bathroom. That’s weird, actually. What was Buck doing up there in the first place?”
“That’s a great question, Petey,” Miss May said. “And it’s a question which we intend to answer.”
“Great. Thank you. I’m lucky to have you. All of Pine Grove is lucky to have all three of you.” Petey looked down and bit at his thumbnail. “People are going to think I did this, aren’t they? The staff is going to talk about the arguments Buck and I used to have. Word’s going to travel fast around town. It’s not going to be good for me.”
“Rumors might spread, sure,” said Miss May. “But we aim to catch the killer before any of that becomes a problem for you.” She stood. “Thanks for talking to us.”
Teeny and I also stood and gathered our things to go. Petey nodded. “Of course. Thank you for talking to me. And for not suspecting me. You don’t suspect me do you?”
Teeny gave Petey a small smile. “Of course not, Petey.”
Teeny and I exchanged a nervous glance. No matter what Teeny said, it was clear Petey was a prime suspect in this investigation. He had opportunity and he had plenty of motive. And all those tears he cried made him seem unstable if not straight up guilty.
We crossed to the exit but Miss May turned back to Petey just before we left. “Petey? One last question. Do you make cinnamon buns here?”
Petey shook his head. “No. Do you think we should?”
“No,” said Miss May. “I wondered, that’s all.”
9
Down to Town
We walked down the hill that led from Peter’s Land and Sea back to Pine Grove’s quaint downtown. It was early evening and we could see the sun setting from on top of the hill. Soft orange light filtered through the gray evening clouds, washing our little village in a calm, warm energy. My shoulders and legs were loose despite the stress of questioning Petey. And based on our slow, relaxed pace, I suspected the sunset was having a similar effect on Teeny and Miss May.
We didn’t speak much as we watched the sunset. Then, once the sun disappeared behind a distant hill, Miss May broke the silence. “So what’re you girls thinking?”
My aunt’s question sent a small wave of excitement through my arms and into my fingertips. We were at the beginning of a new murder investigation. That meant, if all went according to plan, we would have another solved murder on our hands soon. Since I had returned to Pine Grove, I had come to love the thrill of the hunt, the search for answers, and the satisfaction of finding the truth. So I answered Miss May’s question before my next footstep hit the ground.
“I think Petey’s still on my list of suspects,” I said.
“I hate to say it but I agree,” said Teeny. “When the kid worked at my restaurant I never pegged him as a killer. Still don’t. But he got a little weird when he was talking about Buck back there.”
“Right,” I said. “His manner changed when he started discussing his relationship with Buck and the dynamics of how they worked together. At first it seemed like Petey was trying to convince us that he needed Buck and that he appreciated Buck’s help in revitalizing the business. But the more Petey talked, the angrier he seemed. He started really rambling toward the end there. It was like he chugged an energy drink in the middle of the conversation and got all hopped up.”
“By the time he was done ranting, I was convinced Petey hated Buck, despite Petey stating otherwise,” said Miss May. “There’s no doubt that Petey remains a suspect.”
“He seemed genuinely sad when he was talking to the staff though,” I said. “I don’t know. He’s hard to read.”
“His emotions have been all over the map for the past couple of days,” said Miss May. “He’s crying or he’s angry or he’s burying his head in his hands. We’ve seen mood swings like that before in guilty killers. It’s possible Buck pushed Petey too far and Petey snapped. Perhaps Petey’s saddled with a guilty conscience and it’s driving him mad.”
“The kid is acting weird,” said Teeny. “But I’ve known him for years. I think he has a good heart and I think it would be wise to consider other suspects, at least for now.”
“Alright,” said Miss May. “You know Petey better than either of us, by far, so I’d like to think you’re right. He’s always been a nice kid. So what other suspects do we have? What other questions can we ask?”
“I’ve got an obvious question,” I said. “Why was there a cinnamon bun in the bathroom if they don’t even make cinnamon
buns there?”
Teeny shrugged. “I’ve traveled with cinnamon buns before. Maybe Buck brought it from home.”
Miss May shifted her weight from side to side. “I might believe that if he didn’t work in a kitchen. But why bother baking at home when you can make the mess at work and have someone else clean it up?”
“Good point,” said Teeny.
“I think we need to talk to that waitress, Rebecca,” said Miss May. “We need to find out why she was headed to an upstairs bathroom that the staff knew was out of order. And maybe she’ll be able to shed some light on the mystery of the cinnamon bun, too.”
We came to the bottom of the hill and Pine Grove’s Main Street unfolded before us. The town lawyer, Tom Gigley, hurried into his office with a pizza. The owner of the town coffee shop, Brian, chatted with a few patrons on the sidewalk in front of his business, complaining loudly about his broken espresso machine. And two little old ladies climbed into a sensible sedan, each holding a big bouquet of flowers.
As I looked out over the townspeople, I remembered why it was so important for us to solve this murder. I wanted to keep our town safe from danger, and the best way to do that was to catch the killer, of course.
Then a second, darker thought crossed my mind. One of the people out on the street in front of me could be the murderer. And we needed to find out who it was, before someone else turned up dead.
10
Rebecca de Mourning
I woke up the next morning to the smell of dark, home brewed coffee. The second the scent hit my nose, my feet plopped out of the bed and walked me down to the kitchen without my consent. My groggy eyes spotted a vaguely Miss May-shaped being over by the counter. My head gave the humanoid being a little nod and my throat grunted a sound intended to communicate the sentiment, “good morning.” Finally, my hands poured me a cup of coffee and brought it to my lips.
As soon as at first sip hit my lips, the world came into focus. This Miss May-shaped being was Miss May. The sky outside was gray. And, in my sleep stupor, I had forgotten to add cream and sugar to my cup of joe.
When I had first moved to Pine Grove, I hadn’t been much of a coffee drinker. I hadn’t been a big fan of the taste and I’d been really trying to limit my caffeine intake. For the longest time, any cup I consumed needed more cream than coffee and more sugar than cream. But there was something about finding dead bodies and investigating murders that made me want to drink stronger coffee and talk fast and say, “Look here!” like a P.I. in a black and white movie. As a former New York City prosecutor, Miss May had always preferred her coffee strong and black, but I was still working on my toughness.
I added a splash of cream and a sprinkle of sugar to my cup, then turned my focus over to Miss May. She gave me a smile. “Are you fully operational yet or do you need more coffee?”
“I’m powering up.” I sat at the kitchen table and took another sip. “I’d say the system is at about 60% but that’s as good as we’re going to do for the foreseeable future, so we might as well start talking.”
“Sure. Let’s see, what can we talk about? I had a wonderful morning. I went over the books with KP at around 5 AM. Turns out we had a strong, profitable apple picking season. Sold five percent more apple cider donuts that we did last year, which I think we can attribute to the new signage. At around 6 AM, I went into the bakeshop and prepped some dough for pie crust. That reminds me, we got a big order for pies that I need you to help me fill at some point. Then I watched the news and pet Kitty for a while. Steve the dog looked pretty jealous while I was petting the cat so at the commercial break I took him for a walk across the orchard. He stopped by the stream and played for a few minutes. I don’t know how the cold water doesn’t matter to dogs. That’s what fur is for, I guess. Anyway, now I’m here looking at my zombie niece as she joins the land of the living.”
“I don’t like it when you rub your productivity in my face. It makes me feel like I should be doing more around the farm.”
“Are you saying you want to do more around the farm?”
I laughed. “I do plenty.”
“I know,” Miss May said with a grin. “More than enough. I don’t know where I would be without your help.”
“I solve a lot of mysteries too, you know. It’s not all farm work and apple pies in my life.”
Miss May chuckled. “You don’t say? That is so impressive. Are you working on any cases right now?”
“As a matter of fact, I’m headed to interview a new suspect this morning. She lives in the next town over, so I don’t know her well but I’m interested to find out more.”
Miss May took a sip of her coffee, then set it down. “Alright. Enough joking around. Let’s head over to Blue Mountain to so we can catch Rebecca with her guard down at home.”
“How you know she’s not going to be at Peter’s Land and Sea?”
“I looked at the calendar in Petey’s office. Monday is Rebecca’s day off. Also… The chef was murdered so I doubt they’re open.”
I winced. “I’ll drive.”
We picked Teeny up from Grandma’s and headed off to find Rebecca. Miss May called around to a few friends as we headed over toward the little town of Blue Mountain, New York. It only took two or three calls for Miss May to find out Rebecca’s exact address. That’s life in a small town for ya! So I plugged the information into my phone and my GPS took us straight to her front door.
Rebecca lived in a small community of cottages situated near a tiny lake. Her home was brick, one-story and from the looks of it, very small. There were a few rusty old bicycles leaning near the front door and part of the roof had been patched with a blue tarp.
“Are you sure this is the right address?” I asked.
“Yeah, it’s a dump,” Teeny said.
Miss May shrugged. “Sadly, servers don’t often make enough to live in giant countryside estates. This is the right spot.”
Rebecca answered the door with a grimace. “What are the three of you doing here? You’re the people who found Buck’s body.”
“You remember us. Terrific. May we come inside?” Miss May moved to enter the house. I expected Rebecca to resist but she stepped aside and allowed us to pass.
The inside of the home was decorated in a tasteful and modern aesthetic. There was a glass coffee table with gold legs and a large piece of trendy, modern art. A copper French press rested on the table.
“This place is nice,” I said. “I like your artwork.”
“You’re surprised that it’s not a dump,” said Rebecca.
“Yeah I was expecting…” Teeny started. “Not a dump. Nevermind.”
“The outside needs some work. Those bicycles and all that other trash belong to my landlord. I refuse to clean it up until he fixes all the problems I have in the house. Starting with the hole in the roof. Anyway. What are you three doing here?”
“We wanted to talk about Buck,” said Miss May.
“I don’t have a lot of time.” Rebecca opened up a laptop and started typing with impressive speed. “I run a business on the side. And I’m way behind on emails. I’m trying to use this time off from the restaurant to catch up on my backlog.”
“What’s your side business?” I asked.
Rebecca muttered as she typed, ignoring my question. She glanced up and noticed we were all three staring at her expectantly.
“So what’s up?” Rebecca asked. “Do you like, want to start a support group for people who saw the dead body in the bathroom? I still don’t understand why you’re here.”
Miss May, Teeny, and I exchanged wide-eyed glances. We’d solved so many murders in the area, we’d grown accustomed to our reputation preceding us. Suspects almost always knew why we wanted to talk to them as soon as we arrived at their homes. But we had a unique opportunity with Rebecca, because she had no idea that we were investigating the crime.
“You’re right,” said Miss May. “Discovering that body upset us all so much. You were also in the room that day. We
thought if we could talk to you, somehow we might find closure, so we might be able to move past this devastating tragedy. We didn’t know uh…Buck, was that his name?”
“That’s right,” said Rebecca, still typing.
“We didn’t know him. But none of us can shake the image of his body from our minds. Did you know him well?”
“Yeah, you seemed upset when we were all crammed in that little bathroom with his corpse,” Teeny said. “Were you two close?”
Rebecca kept typing on her laptop without looking up. Miss May cleared her throat. “Did you know Buck well?”
“Yeah, I’m sorry, I can’t do this. The whole, talk about your emotions thing? I stopped with that nonsense after my first therapy session in high school. Buck is no longer with us, right? No point thinking about it. No point fixating on the image of his lifeless corpse in your mind. You’ve just got to move on and keep living life.”
I stammered. “Wow, that’s…”
“Cold? Calculating? Heartless?” Rebecca suggested.
“Uh, well, you have an impressive grip on your emotions,” I said. “Is that something you’ve cultivated thanks to working in the restaurant business? Or because of your other business on the side? What did you say that was again?”
“Nothing. Sales.” Rebecca muttered as she clicked around on her computer. “People are so hard to work with sometimes. I hate customers. I hate suppliers. I hate everyone but me.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” said Miss May. She reached into her purse and pulled out an apple pie. “I’m a baker. I don’t know if you like apple pies but—”
“No pies for me, thank you. I don’t like eating. And I don’t really like you three either. No offense, it’s not personal. Remember that thing I said about hating everyone but me? That applies to the three of you as well. This whole conversation is making me feel weird. Most importantly, I have tons of work I need to do.”
The Smoking Bun (Apple Orchard Cozy Mystery Book 10) Page 4
