Death of a Bad Apple

by Penny Pike

  “But she was the flirty one,” I argued.

  “Doesn’t mean he was being faithful to her. Maybe that was her way of trying to get even—flirt with every guy who came along. When that didn’t work, she killed him.”

  “But that still doesn’t explain how Nathan Chapman ties in,” I said. I thought for a moment. “Maybe Nathan found out she killed Reuben and blackmailed her?” I offered. “He wasn’t the most upstanding guy around.”

  “It’s possible.”

  “But why didn’t she just shoot them?” I asked. “Why go to the trouble of using that apple corer and sharp stick to stab them?”

  “Maybe to throw everyone off,” Jake suggested. “If she made it look like Honey did it, then she figured she’d be in the clear.”

  “But if the sheriff still doesn’t have any evidence to hold her, how is he going to prove she was the killer?”

  “That’s up to him. Not our circus. Not our monkey.”

  I frowned at him. “What’s this got to do with a circus and monkeys?”

  “It’s a saying. It means not our problem.”

  I scrunched my nose. “Huh?”

  “Never mind. Listen, I’m starved. I hope your aunt’s got dinner ready. I’m sure she’ll want to hear the good news about Paula being arrested. Hopefully Honey will be released soon.”

  I pondered what had happened the rest of the ride to the inn. Something was still bothering me; it seemed to be just out of my reach.

  So far, no fingerprints had been found on the weapons. If Paula killed those two men, she had apparently been careful. Gloves? And that meant the murders were premeditated, at least to some degree, rather than in the heat of passion.

  And what about the murder in the maze? I doubted Paula knew her way around in there any better than I had. If she’d followed Nathan in and stabbed him, how could she be sure she’d make her escape in time to offer an alibi? Or had she somehow figured out the fastest way in and out?

  The old adage “An apple a day keeps the doctor away” sure didn’t seem to apply to the recent events. In fact, it was an apple that had caused Paula to lose her gun and end up being arrested. Apples. All those health benefits Honey had mentioned—antioxidants, fiber, vitamins, calcium, potassium—might help reduce the risk of developing such diseases as cancer, hypertension, diabetes, stroke, cholesterol, and dementia, but there appeared to be a new side effect: murder.

  I was still convinced that Eden Corporation was the snake in the Garden of Evil. What was it that Nathan Chapman had written in one of his articles? Something like “There’s a nasty pest that’s threatening the very core of the apple business, and the whole thing is rotten, any way you slice it.” If he really believed that, why would he consider selling his farm and his legacy?

  I needed Dillon to do a little cyber-sleuthing for me and see if he could find out anything more on Nathan Chapman and Paula Hayashi. Maybe, like Adam and Eve, they’d been tempted by some kind of snake we hadn’t discovered yet.

  We arrived at the inn to the intoxicating smell of Aunt Abby’s gourmet mac and cheese. The dining table set, the wine decanted, and glasses waiting for us. Jake and I took off our jackets, hung them on the antique coatrack by the door, and headed straight for the beckoning drinks.

  “Something smells good,” Jake said as soon as Aunt Abby appeared from the kitchen. She wore one of Honey’s apple-themed aprons and had slipped on a pair of bright red pot gloves. She clapped them together when she saw us.

  “Oh, good! You’re back! We can serve dinner now. Dillon! They’re heerrree!” she called to the kitchen, then gestured with her large mittened hands. “Have a seat. The casserole will be right out. Enjoy a glass of wine. I know Honey would like you to have it.”

  “Has there been any word?” I asked Aunt Abby, hoping the sheriff or Detective Shelton might have notified her about Honey’s possible release.

  Her smile drooped. “No. Have you heard anything?”

  I glanced at Jake. “Actually there was an incident at the festival grounds after you left.”

  Dillon appeared from the kitchen carrying a large green salad. He stopped when he saw the anxious look on his mother’s face. “S’up?”

  “I was just about to tell your mom that Jake and I overheard Paula talking to Adam in the parking lot.”

  “Spying on her, eh?” Dillon said, not mincing words. He had a talent for being direct.

  “I suppose you could call it that. Anyway, Red showed up and he and Paula started arguing, and then Paula pulled a gun.”

  Aunt Abby’s eyes flashed. “What?”

  Dillon looked shocked. “She had a gun?”

  I nodded. “It makes me think she had something to do with the murders, but she claims she didn’t.”

  “Then why would she have a gun?” Aunt Abby asked.

  “She said it was for protection,” I said. “She was planning to leave town, probably because she knew the sheriff would soon realize what she’d gain by killing Roman.”

  “But what about Nathan?” Aunt Abby asked.

  “That’s another thing,” I said. “She was talking to him a little before he was found dead. She said he told her he was going to sell his farm to Eden Corporation.”

  “Dude, that doesn’t compute,” Dillon said. He set the salad bowl on the table, pulled out a large green leaf, and stuffed it in his mouth. “Chapman was, like, the head of the festival or something, right?”

  “I agree, Dillon, it really doesn’t make sense. That’s why I thought maybe you could check him out on the Internet, see if you can find anything more about him. And Paula Hayashi too, while you’re at it. Maybe there’s something out there we haven’t discovered yet, something that might lead to some kind of connection between these murders.”

  “Yeah,” Dillon chuckled, “like a love connection. I saw that chick all over Chapman at the festival.”

  I nodded. “That’s what Willow said too. But I think Paula was just using her feminine wiles to get whatever it was that she wanted.”

  “She’s pretty hot,” Dillon said. His eyes glazed over for a moment.

  “Snap out of it, lover boy!” I said to him.

  Aunt Abby clapped her mittens together. “Everyone! Sit down! I’ll bring out the casserole before it gets cold and we can talk about all this over my special mac and cheese. There’s a secret ingredient in this recipe. I’ll bet you’ll never guess what it is.”

  I looked at Jake. He looked at me. We said it at the same time.

  “Apples.”

  • • •

  After dinner, I helped Aunt Abby clean up the kitchen while Dillon got out his laptop and started searching for info on Nathan and Paula. Jake was talking on the phone to his attorney buddy in Sacramento, in case Honey wasn’t released and needed his help. Just as Aunt Abby and I finished, there was a knock on the door. We looked at each other, reminiscent of an old horror movie—“Who could that be at this time of night?”—then Aunt Abby went to the door, with me right behind her.

  She opened it to find Detective Shelton standing under the dim front lamp.

  “Wes!” my aunt said before embracing him—something I would never get used to. “Did you bring Honey with you?”

  A woman stepped out from behind him.

  Aunt Abby’s face fell when she realized it was Paula Hayashi.

  “Sorry,” Wes said. “Sheriff O’Neil is still talking to her. But she’s fine. Cooperating fully. I’m sure she’ll be back soon.”

  Aunt Abby turned to Paula, who shouldered her way inside. “What are you doing here?” my aunt said to her. She turned to Detective Shelton. “Didn’t Sheriff O’Neil arrest this woman for illegal gun possession?”

  My aunt had really learned her police terms.

  “They couldn’t hold me. I did nothing wrong,” Paula said. She raised an eyebrow. “I know my rights. Satisfied?”

  “But she aimed the gun at us,” I argued. “That’s got to be illegal?”

  Detective Shelton shru
gged. “She said she felt threatened and was just protecting herself.”

  “Which is true,” Paula added.

  “But she could have shot one of us!” I argued.

  “The gun wasn’t loaded,” he answered. “I checked.”

  Paula gave a smug smile.

  “So, what are you doing back here?” Aunt Abby asked her, clearly as irritated with the woman as I was.

  “To get my things. I’m leaving.” Paula spun around, her black hair shimmering in a cascading wave.

  “The sheriff is letting you go?” Aunt Abby asked.

  “He knows where to reach me,” she replied, and headed up the stairs to her room.

  “Good riddance,” Aunt Abby whispered when Paula reached the top landing. She turned to Detective Shelton. “How’s Honey holding up? Why hasn’t she been released?”

  “She’s all right,” the detective said. “I’m sure Murph will let her go soon. Meanwhile, he asked me to give Ms. Hayashi a ride back here.”

  Jake, still on the phone, covered the mouthpiece and said, “My buddy should be there soon. He’ll get her home, I’m sure.”

  Aunt Abby nodded, but she didn’t look appeased. “I hope so. I hate to think of her down there being grilled for something she didn’t do.”

  None of us said anything for a moment. Then Wes broke the silence. “Something smells good.”

  Aunt Abby perked up a bit. “That would be my apple-pecan pie! It’s fresh out of the oven—”

  Another knock at the door caused us all to freeze. This one was louder and more forceful. Aunt Abby glanced at the detective. He took charge, stepped over, and opened the door.

  Under the pale overhead light stood Adam Bramley.

  “Adam?” Aunt Abby said. “What are you doing here?”

  Adam removed his cap and stepped inside. In his hand he held what was once an expensive camera. But the lens had been shattered, the guts ripped out, and the strap cut up into pieces.

  His eyes narrowed. He glanced around at the five of us, then called out, “Where is she!” He held up the mangled camera, his face twisted in anger.

  “Who?” Aunt Abby asked. “Honey? She’s still at the sheriff’s office.”

  “No, not her. That witch who’s trying to turn us all into her minions. Paula!” He nearly spat her name.

  “She’s upstairs . . . ,” Aunt Abby began.

  Adam headed toward the staircase.

  “Good,” he said, holding up the broken camera. “I have something of hers I want to return.”

  Uh-oh. He looked as though he was going to do a lot more than just return what looked like Paula’s busted camera.

  Chapter 19

  Detective Shelton lunged forward and grabbed Adam by the arm, swinging him around before the man could take the first stair step.

  “Hold up, buddy,” the detective said.

  Adam shook his arm free and glared at the detective. In the short time I’d known Adam, he’d never shown such emotion. “I’m not your buddy, and you have no jurisdiction here,” Adam spat, “so butt out of my business.”

  Whoa, this was a new side of the man I’d thought was a timid mouse.

  “Let’s take it down a notch,” Detective Shelton said, his low tone soothing. “I get you’re pissed about something, so why don’t you tell me what happened? Maybe I can help.”

  Part cop, part negotiator, part therapist—no wonder Detective Shelton was so good at his job. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Aunt Abby beaming at the way he was handling Adam.

  “This is none of your business,” Adam said. He looked at the rest of us as we stared at him in shocked silence. “That goes for the rest of you people. None of you outsiders know anything about what goes on in Apple Valley. All this trouble started when those Eden people came sniffing around, lying about who they were and what they wanted, trying to change our way of life. Now look what’s happened. Nathan Chapman is dead because of them.” He looked up at the first-floor landing. “Because of her!”

  “What the hell is going on down there?” Paula stood at the top of the staircase, straining to look down at the small crowd. Her eyes flashed when she saw what Adam held in his hand. “Oh my God! Is that my Nikon? What have you done to my two-thousand-dollar camera, you jerk!”

  Paula headed down the stairs dragging an Yves Saint Laurent suitcase. When she reached the bottom, she let go of the luggage handle and held out her hand for the camera. Adam plopped the broken pieces into her open palm.

  “There you go,” he said with a strange grin right out of a horror movie.

  Paula looked livid as she absorbed the condition of her expensive camera. “Why, you son of a . . .” She raised up the jumble of metal and plastic and swung it toward Adam’s head. He ducked just in time and bits of the camera flew past him, hitting the far wall. The pieces clattered to the floor in a heap.

  “Detective!” Adam pointed an accusing finger at Paula. “She just tried to kill me! Arrest her!”

  Ah, so now he wanted the law involved.

  “Like you said, I don’t have jurisdiction here,” Detective Shelton said, repeating Adam’s words back to him. “And she didn’t hit you, so I think we should just let the woman go ahead and leave.”

  “The sooner, the better,” Adam said with a snarl.

  Paula shot a daggered look at Adam. “You need to get a life. You’ve been drinking too much of your own apple hooch and it’s made your brain wormy. And by the way, you’re going to pay for my camera. My lawyer will see to that.”

  “Go ahead and try, witch,” Adam countered. “You can’t prove I did anything to it. Maybe I found it after some vandals had gotten to it, and I was just trying to return it to you, like any good citizen would do. Not that you’d know about that.”

  Paula shook her head. “Wise up, old man. Eden has spent over a decade developing the Eden Apple and it’ll be on the store shelves all over the country. That’s because they’re perfect. All you have to do is look at them. And it’s people like you and Honey who are the bad apples, spoiling the barrel for the rest of us.”

  With that, she grabbed her suitcase handle and high-heeled her way through the open front door. I caught a glimpse of her unlocking her late-model Volvo just before I closed the door.

  “Wow,” I said, suddenly feeling exhausted from all the drama. “I need a glass of wine.”

  “Why don’t we all go back to the dining room?” Detective Shelton said. “Adam, you too.”

  It was more of a command than an invitation, but the detective said it so smoothly Adam didn’t seem to notice. He headed in, the detective ushering his way.

  “I think there’s a bit more pie, Adam,” Aunt Abby said, playing the role of hostess in Honey’s absence. He gave a single nod and Aunt Abby ducked into the kitchen. Jake and I sat down at the table opposite Adam and Detective Shelton while Dillon quietly slipped out and headed for the stairs. I hoped he’d remember to do the research on Paula I’d asked for, as well as Honey, Red, and Adam. Maybe he’d come up with something so we could end this nightmare.

  “Adam,” the detective said, “you want to tell me what happened between you and Paula Hayashi?”

  Before he could answer, Aunt Abby brought in the warm pie slice and a fork for Adam. The rest of us poured ourselves some wine—all but the detective, who accepted a cup of coffee from Aunt Abby. Adam took a bite, then nodded, either as a thank-you for the pie, a response to how much he enjoyed it, or as an answer to the detective’s question regarding what had happened between him and Paula.

  When he finished the first bite, he said simply, “She played me.”

  “How so?” Detective Shelton asked.

  Adam glanced over at Aunt Abby, who’d taken a seat at the end of the table; then he looked at Jake and me. “You all saw her. She came on to me right off the bat. Pretended she wanted to know about my farm and the apple business for some phony article she and that Roman character were supposedly doing. She said she’d be taking pictures of me picking
apples, driving the tractor, having a glass of apple cider. She promised it would be in this big glossy magazine and all over the Internet.”

  “We all believed her and Roman,” Aunt Abby said. “We had no reason not to. We were duped too.”

  “Yeah, but she made a fool out of me. She acted like she really liked me. I shouldn’t have been so stupid. I mean, what would a young, pretty city woman like her want with an old country guy like me? But like an idiot, I fell for that snake in the grass.” Adam pushed the unfinished pie away, as if he couldn’t stomach any more.

  “We’ve all been there, Adam,” the detective said, obviously trying to show empathy for the guy. “When you talked with Paula, did you learn anything that could help with these murders? Anything that might give Sheriff O’Neil a clue?”

  Adam wrinkled his brow and thought for a few seconds, then shook his head. “Not that I can think of. She asked me a bunch of questions about the farm, how I processed my apples, what I thought the place was worth. Things like that. I thought it was all background stuff she was gathering for the story. Now I think she was trying to feel me out about whether or not I might be in a position to sell.”

  “Did you give her any indication you would?” Jake asked.

  “No,” Adam answered. “Although I did mention I was worried about the drought we’re in. If it continues, my farm and a bunch of other farms around here could be in trouble. She seemed real interested in that, but she never asked me directly if I would sell the place. If I didn’t know better, I’d figure she had something to do with the drought, just to run us apple people out of business. But of course, she can’t control the weather.”

  “But she might have planned to capitalize on that,” Jake said. “How bad has the water shortage been?”

  Adam shrugged. “Bad. We farmers are trying to stay optimistic, but it’s getting harder as the drought lingers on. We had this festival to kick off the season and get the tourists up here, but if some of the apple farms have to close—or sell—the tourists will stop coming. One of my wells is completely dried up for the first time in twenty years. I lost some of my crop because of that. Some of the trees are still producing, but the apples are hardly worth picking because they’re undersized. I’ve had to let some of my workers go, and they have families to feed. Yeah, sure, I’m worried, but I’m not giving up.”