The Smoking Bun (Apple Orchard Cozy Mystery Book 10)

by Chelsea Thomas

  “It’s possible she lied to us,” I said. “Maybe she hated the open relationship all along.”

  “I didn’t get that impression from Hannah,” said Miss May.

  “Me neither,” said Teeny, cracking open a bag of potato chips in the backseat.

  “Where did you get those chips ?” I asked.

  “I keep a spare bag back here for longer trips.”

  “You store potato chips in my truck?” I asked.

  “And in my convertible. And in May’s van.” Teeny crunched down on a chip. “Sometimes I mix it up and get popcorn instead.”

  I laughed. Then the details of the case started elbowing out my amusement, and I got serious again. “For argument’s sake, let’s consider the possibility that Hannah lied. If she hated the open relationship all along, that means she had been angry with Buck for months or maybe even years. So if she killed Buck… why would she have waited and done it at the restaurant? Why wouldn’t she have killed Buck months ago, at their home, where she could have more control over the crime scene?”

  “Good point,” said Miss May. “The location of the murder points to Petey. It’s his restaurant. And he hated Buck. So Petey had motive and opportunity.”

  “But he seems innocent,” said Teeny.

  “Right.” Miss May looked out the window and bit her thumbnail. “I’m just saying Petey remains a suspect, whether we like it or not. Maybe Rebecca figured out that Petey killed Buck. Maybe Rebecca confronted Petey so he had to kill her too.”

  “The missing link is this Jasmine girl,” I said, following a road sign toward Brooklyn. “I bet she’ll be able to tell us something we don’t know.”

  Teeny nodded. “Or she’s the killer and we need to prepare for a fight.”

  44

  All Signs Greenpoint to You

  Greenpoint was a charming combination of new and old. The community began as a refuge for Polish immigrants many, many years ago. A Polish stronghold remained. However, there had also been an influx of young professionals, some might say “hipsters,” one of whom might have been Jasmine. As a result there were large luxury buildings scattered in with old brownstones, Polish restaurants, and cute little parks. The result was eclectic and pleasing.

  Miss May, Teeny, and I gaped at the buildings and people as we crossed over into Greenpoint from neighboring Queens.

  We soon found ourselves at the foot of Twenty Five Locksley. It was a luxurious new apartment building that stretched above the old brownstones. Although the building was four or five blocks in from the river, it looked to be at least twenty stories high, so I imagined most of the apartments had great water views. Most longtime New Yorkers despised buildings like 25 Locksley for displacing locals and interrupting otherwise modest neighborhoods with grandiosity.

  Of course, I never liked the idea of people being forced out of their own neighborhoods and the interior designer in me recognized the value of the old architecture. But I always loved those big, luxury buildings too. They were so shiny and shimmering and, well, luxurious. I’d never lived in one while I was a resident of the city, but a few of my friends had and I’d enjoyed visiting their apartments, which were all more spacious than mine and cleaner than mine and, most importantly, did not contain any roaches.

  Old buildings in the city almost always had roaches and the hardy pests were challenging, to say the least.

  Another nice thing about the luxury buildings? Great security.

  There was always a guard or two posted at the doors to protect residents from unwanted visitors and solicitors. That protection was no doubt a perk for residents. However, the security team at 25 Locksley proved a challenge for a ragtag group of amateur sleuths like me and the girls.

  The doorman out front of the building had a security patch on his jacket and a walkie-talkie on his hip. He was big and burly and had a mustache that looked like it was eating his face.

  “How are we going to get past this guy?” said Teeny. “Chelsea, you have any leftover feminine wiles?”

  “I don’t think feminine wiles are going to work on this guy. He’s all business.”

  “So we’ll sneak in.” Miss May looked the building up and down. “Can’t be that hard.”

  “You’d be surprised,” I said. “After this security guard there’s going to be a desk inside with another. That second security guard usually sits between the entrance and the elevator so you need to pass them in order to access the rest of the building. Then sometimes you need a special key card just to make the elevator go up.”

  “These rich city people are ridiculous,” said Teeny. “Like strangers are really so desperate to steal their stuff? This isn’t Buckingham palace. It’s just a nice, new building in Brooklyn. I used to come to this exact block when I was a girl to buy Kielbasa from a little old man with a dirty pushcart.”

  Miss May smiled. “I bet those were delicious.”

  “Oh, you have no idea. They would crack when you bit into them and then they were so juicy. I could go for one now. But no, poor dirty Kielbasa guy has been chased out by hipsters! And now I have to look up at this architectural monstrosity instead of eating a delicious brat? Look at this place. It looks like a vertical cruise ship. Do you think the residents get magic shows every night in the lobby?”

  I shook my head. “They probably don’t leave their apartments too often. Netflix is all the magic anyone wants these days.”

  “We need a plan,” said Miss May. “If security is as robust as you say it is, I don’t know how we’re going to get in.”

  “I’ll get in, no problem.” Teeny brushed off her hands on her pants. “You just have to act like you own the place. Watch.”

  Teeny marched toward the front of the building with her chest puffed out and her head held high. She breezed right past the first security guard and disappeared into the lobby. A few seconds later, Teeny exploded back onto the sidewalk, yelling at the security guard inside. “You are a mean man. I’m going to report you and you’re going to be fired! You hear me? You better call your mom, because you’re moving back into the basement, loser.”

  Teeny charged back over to us. Both Miss May and I chuckled.

  “How did that go?” asked Miss May.

  “That guy is a jerk,” said Teeny. “Also, I can never step inside that building again or he’s going to have me arrested.”

  “What happened?” I asked.

  “He wouldn’t let me in the elevator unless I told him my name and gave him my license and told him who I was there to go see. That’s an invasion of privacy.”

  “I told you security was serious,” I said.

  “Yeah but you didn’t tell me they were going to need my fingerprints and Social Security number and a blood sample just to ride the elevator.”

  “Maybe we can sneak in through the parking area or something,” said Miss May. “Is there parking underneath?”

  I shook my head. “A building with parking is the Holy Grail of New York City living. There’s no way inside this place except past those two security guards.”

  “OK,” said Miss May. “So we need to regroup. We need a new plan.”

  “That’s fine,” said Teeny, “but first I need a Kielbasa. That guy’s gotta be around here somewhere.”

  Teeny charged off, leading the way in search of her Polish sausage. Miss May and I followed.

  Twenty minutes later, we had walked up and down every street in Greenpoint but we hadn’t found a single Kielbasa. Teeny leaned on a railing looking out over the East River and groaned. “We passed fifteen fancy coffee shops but can’t find one single Kielbasa? This neighborhood is turning into a dump.”

  “It’s not that bad.” I gestured to the sweeping views of the Manhattan skyline. “This view can’t be beat.”

  “Whatever,” said Teeny. “Just let me have my grief.”

  I looked around and spotted a long pier that jutted out into the river. Loud music played at the end of the pier and twenty or thirty people were crowded together
there, dancing.

  “Let’s go down there,” I said. “Maybe one of those random dancing people knows Jasmine.”

  Miss May looked over at me. “That’s a stretch, Chelsea.”

  I shrugged. “Worth a shot. She lives a few blocks from here.”

  Miss May gave me a skeptical look. But I headed toward the pier and she and Teeny followed..

  A few minutes later, the three of us stood at the edge of the throng of dancers. They all seemed to be having a great time, and many appeared to be having fun with the help of alcohol or some other illicit substance. The women rolled their arms through the air like jellyfish. The men twisted their hips with absent smiles on their faces. An effervescent young woman laughed as she twirled with her hands above her head.

  “Hold on a second!” I pointed into the throng. “That’s Jasmine. The twirling girl!”

  Miss May put her hand to her forehead like a sailor gazing out to sea. “You’re right. That’s the girl from Rebecca’s house. You need to get out there and talk to her, Chelsea.”

  I slouched my shoulders. “Why me?”

  Miss May smirked. “Come on. We’re too old to dance like that.”

  45

  Age is Just a Number

  “No way. I’m not letting you get by with this old age excuse anymore. It’s overused and it’s discrimination against me for being young.” I put my little foot down and looked at Teeny and Miss May with determination.

  “It’s not like we’re making it up, Chelsea,” said Teeny. “We’re actually old.”

  “Oh you are not!” I said. “You’re only old when it’s a convenient excuse. The rest of the time you’re all, ‘age is just a number’ and ‘don’t call me old!’”

  Teeny chuckled. “Listen, Chelsea. Part of aging gracefully is knowing when to use your years to your advantage. Whether that means getting fun discounts or getting out of things you don’t want to do. And neither of us want to go out into that pulsating mass of dancing weirdos and investigate. That’s what you bring to the team.”

  “I respect you as my elders,” I said. “But I also really, really, really don’t want to go out there alone. Please don’t make me do it. Please, please, please. I’m a terrible dancer. You both know about my sweat issues. If you make me do this… Well, I’ll go, but I won’t be happy and I will be sweaty.”

  Miss May looked out at the dancers at the end of the pier. She sighed. “OK.” She held out her hand. I took it. “Let’s show those kids what we’ve got.”

  I smiled. “Really? You’ll dance with me?”

  “Only to stop your annoying whining.”

  “I was not being annoying! I mean, I’ve let you two push me through windows and force me to give massages and all sorts of other things… Dancing is frankly the least offensive thing you’ve asked me to do. But sometimes a girl just can’t take anymore.”

  Miss May chuckled. “It was the straw that broke the Chelsea’s back, I suppose.”

  “Well I’m not going.” Teeny crossed her arms. “I’m still miffed about my Kielbasa.”

  “That’s fine,” said Miss May. “You hang back here and observe.”

  Jasmine was at the very center of the circle of dancing people, protected by three rings of drunken twenty-somethings, all pulsing and gyrating in time with the music. Everyone in the circle danced like they were at a cool, underground club. Miss May and I, however, danced like we were at our uncle’s wedding. We were stiff and weird and I was sure we looked like the kind of people who said things like, “I love to boogie.”

  “We need to get into the middle of that circle,” I said.

  “Let’s dance our way in there,” said Miss May. “I don’t see any other options.”

  “How are we supposed to do that? Jasmine is dead center. Look at her. She’s dancing like she got away with something. Too fluid. Too carefree.”

  “That’s why we need to get in there and talk to her. I’ll lead us into the middle. Ready?”

  Before I had a chance to answer, Miss May lowered her shoulder and pulled me into the crowd with a ferocious swiftness. The dancers backed away, almost by instinct, and we entered the circle. I supposed that those Brooklyn people were caught off guard by a couple of upstate wedding guests like us.

  Thirty seconds later, we were dancing right beside Jasmine. She was free and smooth, almost liquid. And Miss May and I moved like two cinderblocks that had come to life. I made eye contact with Jasmine and she gave me a little smile.

  “You’re a great dancer,” I said.

  Jasmine did a little twirl, pretending not to hear me. Then she edged out of the crowd and made a beeline toward a little cooler at the edge of the pier where I presumed the alcoholic beverages were kept cold.

  “You scared her away,” said Miss May. “Go after her!”

  I knew there was no use arguing. There was no way Miss May was going to chase Jasmine down with me. I’d already dragged her onto the makeshift dance floor. My goodwill for the day had evaporated. So I accepted my duty and headed off toward the cooler.

  As I gently shoved my way over to the cooler I decided that I needed to leave my old Chelsea personality behind me and become the kind of party girl to whom Jasmine would relate. I made a mental note not to talk about my sweaty armpits or apple orchards or tiny horses or my nerdy lion-obsessed boyfriend. I stood a little taller, unbuttoned the top two buttons of my shirt, and stuck a big, ecstatic smile on my face.

  “This music is amazing,” I said, digging in the cooler next to Jasmine. I used a croaky, carefree voice like an exhausted sorority girl. It was the quintessential voice of the overworked, New York City party girl, grateful for a chance to unwind. “Dancing is like, life. A good song comes on and I just let myself move and forget all my stress, you know?”

  “Tell me about it,” replied Jasmine in an almost exact replica of my croaky voice. “I’m letting so many negative toxins out right now. We’re all, like, so lucky that music exists in the world.”

  “Oh my goodness, I know,” I said. “I had a death in my family this week. So I really needed to boogie!”

  I said ‘boogie.’ Shoot! Lucky for me, Jasmine didn’t notice.

  “Oh my goodness, we’re soul sisters,” she said, wrapping me up in a hug. “I lost someone this week too. My lover was…murdered.”

  “Oh?” I said in a high-pitched squeal. This was a big revelation, and I struggled to maintain my composure. “That is tragic. What happened?”

  “I have no idea. But the worst part is, I was so mad at him the day he died. I had just found out he had like, this other girlfriend. I mean, whatever, I’m not some sort of prude. We didn’t have to like, be monogamous.” She said monogamous like it was a dirty word. “But he was lying to me about it, which just isn’t cool. I yelled at him so much. Then he was killed and I wished that I could’ve just had more time with him… Even though he was probably a jerk, deep down. Love is love, you know?”

  “That’s so crazy,” I said. “Do you think… Do you think the other girlfriend found out about you and that she’s the one who killed him?”

  “I did think that, at first, but then she turned up dead too,” said Jasmine. “Now I don’t know what to think. You know, he…my boyfriend or whatever, he had been dealing with this ridiculous scandal at work. He was finally going to get away from that place and start a new life. A new life with me, actually. He told me that. Whatever. Maybe that was a lie too. All that’s left to do now is dance. And drink.”

  Jasmine finally selected a beer from the cooler. Then she charged back into the middle of the circle, chugging her drink with wild abandon. I caught Miss May’s eye from across the pier. I could tell my aunt wanted to know if I had gathered any useful information. And I was pretty sure I had.

  46

  Piering into the Future

  We found Teeny at the other end of the pier, digging into a big, juicy Kielbasa. She had a smile on her face and a napkin tucked into her shirt like a bib.

  “How did
it go?” She asked with her mouth full of Kielbasa.

  “Not as well as it did for you, I see,” I said. “Where did you find that?”

  “Some guy walked by pushing a cart. Not the same fella from my childhood. He’s probably no longer with us. But I tell you, this is delicious! I would have bought one for each of you but I only had money for one.”

  Miss May laughed. “That’s OK. I’m not in the mood for sausage anyway.”

  “Me neither,” I said. “I still feel all jittery from my conversation with Jasmine.”

  Teeny lowered her Kielbasa. “So you did it. You made it to the center of the circle. You parted the Red Sea of hipsters.”

  “I guess you could say that,” I said.

  Teeny immediately launched into a series of what felt like several thousand questions. I answered the pertinent queries as best I could, then I summed up my entire conversation with Jasmine in a few quick sentences. As I retold the story of my conversation with our suspect at the cooler, I realized one detail stood out above all the others. “Jasmine referenced a scandal at Peter’s Land and Sea,” I said.

  “Was she referring to the murder of the head chef?” asked Miss May.

  I shook my head. “No. She said Buck had been dealing with a scandal at work and he was about to finally be free. Maybe that has something to do with his death.”

  “Maybe it has something to do with her relationship with Buck,” said Miss May. “That whole open relationship thing sounds like it was pretty scandalous.”

  Teeny nodded. “Love triangles are always scandalous. Even in open relationships.”

  “Technically I think this was a love square,” said Miss May. “At least.”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Buck’s many relationships doesn’t seem like the thing Jasmine was referencing. It sounded like something separate from her relationship with Buck or his relationship with any women.”