Miss May chuckled. “Tell us what you really think, Teeny.”
“I speak my truths,” Teeny said. “People love that about me.”
Miss May smirked. “Or they hate it.”
Teeny took a sip of wine. “I’m just kidding, anyway. I don’t think Dee Dee did it. Not deep down.”
“Neither do I,” I said. “None of us do. But where does that leave us?”
Miss May wiped the corners of her mouth. “It leaves us in need of more information. And I have to admit, I think we were a little sloppy with this investigation so far. We should have already talked to Dee Dee at this point. Or at least tried to. She could have valuable information and I ignored it because she’s my sister and I developed a one-track mind.”
Teeny broke a hunk of Parmesan off the wedge. “So let’s go to the police station and question her.”
I shook my head. “It’s almost midnight. Too late for that. Besides, Flanagan will never let us in. Remember? She kind of…hates us.”
Miss May smiled. “That’s why midnight is the perfect time to go.”
I narrowed my eyes, confused. But, like always, Miss May had a trick up her sleeve. And like any good magician, she preferred to show her magic rather than tell us about it.
I hoped this trick was a good one.
17
I Know Why the Jail Bird Sings
Miss May and I drove to town in her VW bus. As we cruised toward the police station, the emptiness of the streets shocked me. There were zero cars. Zero people. The town’s one traffic light was running, but it wasn’t clear why.
“Wow.” I craned my neck to look out the back window. “I guess I don’t usually come to downtown Pine Grove after midnight.”
“No good reason to,” said Miss May. “Unless there’s trouble.”
I bit my lip. “Sometimes you talk like an apple pie-baking cowboy.”
“I often think I might’ve been a cowboy in a previous life. Maybe a sheriff in the old West?”
I shrugged. “You do look nice in a jean jacket.”
Miss May chuckled. “Don’t flatter me. I need you in mean detective mode for this.”
“OK. Mean detective mode. What are we doing again? Do you have a plan?”
Miss May parked a few blocks down the street from the police department. “Always. Follow my lead.”
Miss May climbed out of the bus and walked to the block behind Main Street. She took careful steps and stayed out of the streetlights.
“The entrance to the police station is on Main,” I whispered.
Miss May looked back at me held a finger to her lips.
She kept walking, so I did too.
About one minute later, we were standing in the little field behind the police station. The station was a small, brick building. It only had one jail cell, which faced out to the little yard. There was a light on in the cell and suddenly, the same light turned on in my brain.
“Wait,” I said. “Are you... Are we...”
Miss May smiled. “Thin walls. Single pane windows. We don’t need to go inside if we want to talk to Dee Dee. We don’t have to bribe anyone with a pie…”
“All we need to do is not get caught,” I said, and Miss May touched her nose in affirmation.
Miss May crept toward the building. She flattened herself against the wall beside the window to the jail cell. I did the same.
Then, Miss May opened her mouth, and let out a loud meow. Like a cat.
Me-ow. Me-ow.
My eyes widened. I had never heard Miss May make that sound. But she was good at it.
No response from inside the cell. Miss May sighed and took a step back toward the bus. Then we heard it. A loud meow from the jail cell. Miss May froze in place and smiled. We looked back. No one stood at the window to the cell. But we had confirmation that Dee Dee could hear us.
Miss May flattened herself back against the wall. She lightly tapped on the window. A voice whispered from inside.
It was Dee Dee. “Keep it down. Anyone could be listening.”
“Sorry,” Miss May said. “You remember the cats.” Miss May turned to me. “That was our secret code when we were girls. Whenever I needed something, or Dee Dee needed something—”
“Skip the walk down memory lane,” said Dee Dee. “Why are you here?”
“It’s late. We didn’t want to deal with Flanagan rejecting us. And I know these windows are basically made of paper.”
“Single pane windows are great for chatting, but I’m freezing in here,” said Dee Dee.
“What happened that night with Orville?” I asked. “Do you have any information that could help us get you free?”
“I don’t like the tone of your voice, Chelsea. Are you accusing me of murder?”
Miss May groaned. “No, Dee Dee. She’s just asking questions. We don’t think you killed Orville.”
“That’s stupid,” Dee Dee scoffed. “Because I definitely would have killed that guy.”
I glanced at Miss May, but her face remained implacable.
“Maybe don’t say things like that when you’re under arrest for murder,” Miss May said.
“Sorry. I’m just saying,” Dee Dee whispered. “Cat to cat. I would have killed him. But I couldn’t have.”
I leaned toward the window. “You have an alibi?”
“Kind of,” Dee Dee shrugged.
“There are no ‘kind of’ alibis,” said Miss May. “You either have one or you don’t.”
“At the time Orville was murdered,” Dee took a deep breath, “I was out in the forest talking to the trees. Apologizing.”
“OK. We need to talk about this,” said Miss May. “You know I cut down trees every Christmas season, right? This feels personal. This whole Christmas tree thing.”
“This is different,” Dee Dee insisted. “Fred and his family of saplings have been in the forest for more than a generation. To chop him down for a few-week display would be…abhorrent. Unforgivable. Yes, you kill trees and take their souls, and that’s bad—” Miss May huffed but Dee Dee continued, “but at least you replant every year.”
“True,” Miss May said. “But that’s not the message you’re spreading. People in town are talking. Business is a little slow this year.”
Dee Dee scoffed. “That farm is doing great. We both know it.”
“Back up, sisters,” I said. I held up a hand up to stop Miss May and Dee Dee from talking. “Let’s get back to the alibi. Aunt Dee Dee, you said you were in the forest. Was anyone with you?”
“Fred,” Dee Dee replied, without a hint of irony. “Fred could vouch for me.”
“But Fred can’t speak,” I said.
“He can if you speak the language of the trees,” Dee Dee replied.
“I don’t know that Flanagan is fluent in tree,” said Miss May. “Did you tell the police about what you were doing in the forest?”
“Of course,” Dee Dee said. “They didn’t care.”
Miss May nodded. “I’m on your side here, of course, but I can see why that alibi wouldn’t hold water. But that doesn’t mean you can’t help us solve this. Think. Who else could have committed this murder? Did you see anything that day? In the forest? In town?”
There was a long pause. “No. Nothing.”
Miss May narrowed her eyes. “Dee Dee. What are you not telling us?”
“I told you everything I know. Which is nothing. So there’s nothing I’m not telling you. I’m not telling you nothing. Are you confused? I’m confused.”
“You’re trying to confuse me but I’m very clear,” Miss May said. “There’s something you know. If you want to leave that jail cell, you need to tell me what it is.”
Silence. Miss May raised her voice a bit. “Your freedom is on the line, sister.”
“Fine. I’ll tell you,” Dee Dee took another long pause.
Miss May looked over at me, impressed with herself. My aunt knew her sister well.
“There is someone in Pine Grove who is just as pass
ionate as I am about the trees,” Dee Dee said. “Someone who’s more vehemently opposed than I am to the town chopping down Fred for a vapid Christmas showcase.”
Miss May replied fast. “Someone in the Conservation Society?”
Dee Dee lowered her voice. “I don’t like to throw accusations, but this individual was so angry that night... She was supposed to pass out fliers with me but she disappeared. Then we were supposed to meet in the forest to talk to Fred, but she never showed. I keep thinking, what if it was her?”
Miss May and I yelled in unison. “Who?”
Dee Dee swallowed. “Remember Jennifer Paul?”
I gasped. Of course I remembered Jennifer Paul. First, she had been my ‘frenemesis’ in high school. Then, she had been a suspect in one of our prior cases. In that particular investigation, she’d ended up having a psychotic breakdown on the beach of Hastings Pond…wearing a bikini in the middle of winter.
“I remember. We went to school together. And then she sort of…”
“Then she had a beach day on the coldest afternoon in February last year,” Miss May finished my thought.
Dee Dee came to the window. Her face was white and gaunt. “You need to talk to Jennifer Paul.”
18
Chakra and Awe
The next morning, Miss May, Teeny, and I went to see Jennifer Paul. Jennifer lived in a small cottage on Hastings Pond. Hastings Pond was an affordable lakeside community that had once been used to house visiting tourists from New York City. Young families and single people often bought starter homes near the pond, despite the fact that the water was not exactly crystal clear.
For years, Jennifer had operated a hair salon out of her cottage. When I first moved back to town, Jennifer had harbored a grudge against me for avoiding her haircuts and her personality. Then Miss May and I had accused her of murder, she’d worn a polka dot bikini on a snow-covered beach and taken an ice bath in the putrid lake. Jennifer had gone on a self-love retreat for a few months, but now she was back, and her hair salon had transformed into an earthy, unassuming…yoga studio?
“Jennifer has a yoga studio now?” I asked.
“Looks like Edward Scissorhands found some inner peace.” Teeny cupped her hands and looked into the former salon turned zen palace. The lights were off. “Too bad she didn’t find business to go along with it.”
Miss May stood beside Teeny and looked into the cottage. “Looks nice in there. If I could touch my toes, I might be interested in attending a class.”
“If the teacher wasn’t crazy, I might be interested in attending a class,” said Teeny.
“Crazy is a derogatory term.” A strong female voice rang out from behind us. We turned. Jennifer Paul approached. She was carrying a yoga mat and wearing a long hemp vest with tattered jeans. Her once carefully arranged hair was in dreadlocks and she had a peace sign on her T-shirt. Stereotypical yogi, I know. But I can’t make this stuff up.
Miss May pulled a big apple pie from her purse. “Jennifer. It’s been so long. How are you?”
“Is that pie for me?” Jennifer’s tone softened. “Is it apple?”
“The lady owns an apple orchard, Jennifer. What do you think it is?” Teeny held up her hands.
Miss May glared at Teeny, then turned to Jennifer. “Yes, it’s apple. Fresh from the oven this morning. Probably still hot.”
Jennifer accepted the pie, then narrowed her eyes at Miss May. “What do you need?”
“I was hoping you might talk to me about my sister, Dee Dee. We heard you were active alongside her at the Conservationist Society and thought you might have some insight that could help us set her free.”
Jennifer shook her head. “What a shame, locking up that beautiful, pure soul.”
“Do you think that beautiful, pure soul is capable of murder?” Teeny asked.
Jennifer shook her head. “No. But I wouldn’t blame her, man. The earth, the trees, the wind? That’s all we have.”
Miss May bit her lower lip. “OK. Dee Dee said she was alone at the time of Orville’s murder. Out in the forest. But is there any chance you saw her in that window of time? An interaction or exchange that she may have forgotten?”
“I wish I had been with her at that time, communing with Fred and his tree children. Then I could be Dee Dee’s alibi and nothing would be sweeter. Sadly, I too was alone. In a deep, deep meditation.”
“So much meditating in Pine Grove,” said Teeny.
“Where were you?” I asked.
Jennifer looked at me. “I can’t be sure. It was some other part of the forest. I had intended to meet up with Dee Dee, but I got completely lost in my practice. The night was so beautiful. The moonlight cascaded through the trees, dancing across the shore of the pond over by the abandoned country club.”
“Meditation is so…valuable,” I said. “What were you meditating about?”
Jennifer smiled. “I was meditating on a number of topics. Including my hatred and ill-wishes toward that evil Santa. I was ruminating on my thoughts of killing him.”
Miss May coughed in surprise. “Excuse me. What?”
“You heard me. I didn’t act on my thoughts. I mean, I may have manifested it. But I don’t believe that’s punishable by law. And I would never waste a candy cane on a murder. Sugar and peppermint balance out my chakra.”
“Intense.” Teeny shuddered. “You said you were also meditating alone?”
Jennifer’s eyes sharpened. “Don’t prod for an alibi. I thought you were here about Dee Dee. Not me.”
Miss May held up her hands. “We are.”
Jennifer stepped toward us. “No. You’re treating me like a suspect. You’re questioning me. Just like last time.” Jennifer grabbed her head. “I tried to grow and change and be better. But you want to make me crazy again. Why are you targeting me?”
Miss May took a step back and bumped into the wall of the cottage. “We’re not targeting you. Honest. We brought you that pie.”
“You bought me a pie last time. That’s what you do. You use pies to put people at ease. And then you drive them crazy and you send them to the beach in the winter.”
“We didn’t mean to upset you,” I said. “Also, technically we rescued you from the cold last time.”
Jennifer turned back and pointed at Miss May. “You are a monster. You want to punish me for crimes I didn’t commit.”
“Hello? Is this the new yoga studio?”
We all turned. A group of moms approached, wearing yoga clothes. They looked frozen in horror at the showdown between Jennifer and Miss May.
Jennifer immediately switched to yoga teacher mode. Her demeanor and voice shifted into a soft, gentle tone. “That’s right. Thank you for coming and welcome to my studio. We were just having a little fun before class.”
Miss May let out an awkward laugh. “Yes. Fun. Unfortunately, I can’t stay for class. You all have a nice day.”
“Namaste,” I said.
Miss May, Teeny, and I hurried back toward the bus. I wasn’t sure if Jennifer’s new zen persona was an act or a sincere attempt at reformation, but either way, her alibi was just as slippery as Dee Dee’s. And certainly both women seemed to share an unabashed contempt for Orville Starr.
I didn’t want to think that either tree-lovers could be guilty, but I had to wonder…
Maybe we were barking up the right tree this time around.
19
Massage in a Bottle
Miss May, Teeny, and I beelined from the yoga studio straight to one of our favorite restaurants in town, Peter’s Land and Sea. I know. It might seem odd that we had a life-threatening encounter with a Santa-hating tree-hugger and our first thought afterward was pancakes. What can I say? Detective life makes a girl hungry. Besides, we were in the neighborhood of Peter’s and hadn’t stopped by in a while.
The three of us discussed the case a bit on our way to Peter’s. But the drive only took one or two minutes and as we pulled up to the restaurant, the holiday decorations distracted us
.
Peter, AKA Petey, had formerly worked for Teeny at Grandma’s restaurant. A high school dropout with a chip on his shoulder, Petey had started as a bus boy but learned lots of Teeny’s secrets in the kitchen. From the looks of his decorations, he had learned a thing or two about dazzling holiday cheer from Teeny as well.
Peter’s Land and Sea was housed in a white, Revolutionary War-era home. On any day, the house had a stately and impressive energy. But that day, the decorations transformed the place from impressive to jaw-dropping.
The entire house had been covered in garland and twinkling white lights. An enormous gingerbread house had been constructed in the yard. Solitary candles on spindly sticks twinkled in every window. And an enormous Christmas tree lit up the foyer with a soft, warm glow.
The restaurant was elegant, cheerful, and relaxing. Exactly what we needed after our visit to Jennifer.
Miss May smiled as we parked the car. “You taught Petey well, Teeny.”
“I taught the boy everything he knows!” Teeny laughed. “You know I love my decorations. He was in charge of arranging the Santa collection last year. I didn’t even think he was listening when I told him how important all this stuff was.”
“He definitely was,” I said.
We entered the restaurant to find a crowd of happy people dining. There was laughter and the din of conversation and a group of carolers sang in perfect harmony in the corner.
Petey greeted Teeny with a big smile and a hug. Then he led us to our favorite table, by the window. Teeny ordered a triple stack of Peter’s famous chestnut maple pancakes with a side of whipped cream and we returned our focus to a discussion of the case. But before we could say much, my phone rang.
“It’s Germany Turtle.” I could feel the blood rush to my cheeks. Teeny and Miss May exchanged a conspiratorial grin.
“So answer the phone.” Miss May nudged me.
“I can’t. Not right now. We have important things to talk about.”
“Nothing is as important as love.” Teeny nudged me just as Miss May had.
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