Shot Through the Tart

by Chelsea Thomas

  Miss May shook her head. “This place is a madhouse.”

  Teeny smiled. “I taught Petey well. This kitchen is running like a well-oiled machine. No wonder this restaurant does so much business.”

  Miss May scanned the kitchen. She wiped sweat from her brow. “Hello? Is Petey back here? For Pete’s sake, where is that boy?”

  I giggled. Miss May glared at me. “Don’t even, Chelsea. Now’s not the time for wordplay.”

  A chef looked over at us. “Miss May. You need to leave. Working kitchen.”

  Miss May waved the chef away. “Shove it, kid. This is important.”

  “They’re fine.” Petey approached holding a large box of produce. He put the box on the counter. The cooks descended on the produce and the box was empty within seconds. Like hungry vultures, I thought. Petey turned to us. “I presume you’re here about the investigation. Let’s try to make it quick. Dinner rush.”

  “No problem,” said Miss May. “I’ve got one question for you.”

  Petey shrugged. “Go ahead.”

  “Was Jefferson Nebraska working here last Friday at the time of Adam Smith’s murder?”

  44

  Kung Pao Murder

  “I knew it.” Miss May jumped in the van and started it with a scowl. “I knew Jefferson Nebraska was lying about working that night.”

  I jumped into the passenger seat and buckled my seatbelt. “But if Jefferson was lying that means Dorothy might’ve been lying, too. He was her alibi.”

  Teeny nodded. “And Dorothy had plenty of motive.”

  “That’s why we’re going to talk to Jefferson right now.” Miss May did a three-point turn and headed toward town.

  “Oh.” Tom furrowed his brow. “Perhaps you could drop me at my office first. I’ve enjoyed the excitement so far. But I don’t want to be around any actual murderers. That’s dark. And scary.”

  “You’re a lawyer,” said Teeny. “Don’t you deal with scary stuff all the time?”

  “Less than you would think. Mostly I handle estates. Divorces. When Mrs. Harrington fell at the Shop and Go, I helped her sue. That kind of stuff is my bread and butter. Not so much homicide.”

  “Are you sure you want to go back to your office, Tom?” Teeny asked. “It’s starting to smell.”

  Tom narrowed his eyes. “What’s starting to smell?”

  “Pine Grove is starting to smell,” Teeny said. “Like the truth. That means we’re getting close.”

  “As tempting as that sounds, I’d love it if you could drop me off. I’ll smell the truth from the comfort of my armchair. I think I’ll smell some whiskey at the same time.”

  Miss May turned to Tom. “I thought you were a dirty martini guy?”

  “I’ve been getting into whiskey lately. Martinis are too much work. Whiskey, I just pour in the glass, add a splash of water, good to go.”

  Miss May nodded. “I like that efficiency. Now get out.”

  Miss May slammed to a halt outside Tom’s office.

  Tom stood. “Oh. That was abrupt. Just like that… I have to leave the van?”

  Miss May sighed. “Sorry. Thank you for your help with the VCR. Enjoy your whiskey. We’ll let you know what happens.”

  Tom looked at Miss May with puppy dog eyes. “Am I the fourth official member of the team?”

  Miss May smiled. “Fifth. And you’re still in your probationary period. Now get out, Tom.”

  Two minutes later, Miss May parked outside the little Chinese restaurant in the center of town. China Palace was in a strip mall, next to an Irish pub and a couple of other local businesses. Jefferson lived in a small apartment above the restaurant. And his light was on.

  “Looks like he’s home,” said Teeny. “Hopefully he’s not killing anyone up there.”

  Miss May shook her head. “Don’t say things like that.”

  Teeny huffed. “Sorry.”

  I looked the building up and down. “How are we going to get in there?”

  Miss May smirked at me. “Mr. G owes me a favor.” She entered China Palace with a confident stride. Teeny and I trotted along behind her, as we always did.

  Mr. G’s restaurant was less of a restaurant and more of a counter where people could walk in and order food to go. Mr. G was short and skinny. He always wore a big smile, and his face was on every bag and to-go container in the joint.

  “Miss May. Don’t tell me. Someone was murdered. And the killer snuck poison into my food. So you think I did it. I’ve been waiting for this moment,” Mr. G said. “Let’s go. Interrogate me.”

  “Not today.” Miss May leaned on the counter. “I need to cash in that favor, Mr. G.”

  Mr. G shrugged. “Which favor? I owe you fifty or sixty. You drove my kids to school. You helped me fix a flat tire. You leave me great reviews for restaurant online.”

  “I need to cash all of them in right now.”

  Mr. G’s eyes widened. “So you are here about an investigation.”

  About one minute later, Mr. G unlocked a door in the back of the restaurant. The door led to a rickety old staircase. And the staircase led to Jefferson Nebraska’s apartment.

  Miss May led the way up the stairs. Like every staircase in every old building in all of Pine Grove, each step protested our weight with a loud creak.

  I wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans. I wiped my sweaty forehead on my arm. I belched. “Does anyone else feel really nervous right now?”

  Miss May paused and looked back at me. “We’re going to be OK. We’re just here to talk. And we’ve done this before.”

  I nodded. “OK.”

  Miss May knocked on Jefferson’s door three times. Bang. Bang. Bang. “Jefferson. Are you home?”

  No answer.

  Teeny joined Miss May on the top step. “Maybe we should try to pick the lock. See if we can find any clues in—”

  The door opened. There stood Jefferson Nebraska, arms crossed. He scowled. “Miss May. What are you doing here?”

  Miss May smiled. “I was hoping we could talk.” She pulled a pie from her purse. “I brought apple pie.”

  “Sure. Come on in.”

  Jefferson stepped aside and gestured for us to enter. Miss May and I exchanged a concerned look, like, that was a little too easy. Then we walked into Jefferson’s apartment. Teeny followed. As soon as the three of us were inside, Jefferson closed the door and locked it.

  “Sit on the couch.” None of us moved. Jefferson pulled a gun from his waist and pointed at us. “Let me rephrase. Sit. Now.”

  Miss May looked over at me and Teeny. “Let’s do as he says, girls.” I plopped down on the center seat of the couch. Miss May and Teeny sat on either side of me.

  Jefferson laughed. “You three think you’re so powerful. You think you can solve every murder. But who’s powerful now? I say sit and you sit. You think you caught me? You think I was just an unsuspecting idiot? No. I’ve been waiting for you. And I’ve got it all planned out.”

  I swallowed. “You have what all planned out?”

  Jefferson laughed once more. Then he got serious. “Officer. I’m so glad you’re here. Those amateur detectives showed up at my house. The young one tried to hurt me with her ridiculous karate. I was lucky I got to the gun in time. They were trying to kill me! They went crazy with power. They accused me of murder and they wanted me dead and I had to defend myself.”

  Miss May shook her head. “You think the cops are going to buy that?” She reached into her purse, pulled out the videotape and placed it on the counter. “I know what you did to my sister and my brother-in-law.”

  I looked down, hands suddenly trembling with rage. “You killed my parents.”

  Jefferson turned and pointed the gun at me. “I’m sorry.”

  “You’re not even going to deny it?” I demanded.

  “I can’t. You’re right, I did it,” Jefferson said. “I wasn’t thinking straight. I was in love with your mother, and the jealousy drove me insane. I just… I didn’t even really mean to kill them. I
was just so angry. I felt bad, afterwards. Of course I felt bed. I left town forever. But I got tired of wandering. I figured enough time had passed—”

  Teeny glowered at Jefferson. “So you came back and Zambia threatened to expose you. And she told Adam about what you did. So you had to kill them too.”

  Jefferson scoffed. “No wonder you’re just the assistant detective. That’s not how it happened at all.”

  “So how did it happen?” Miss May asked.

  Jefferson removed the safety from the gun. “I didn’t want Zambia or Adam dead. But Dorothy knew all about my past crimes. That crazy lady had snooped through Zambia’s entire house looking for evidence of the affair, and Dorothy had found the videotape. So she threatened to expose me and what I’d done all those years ago…unless I killed Adam. Once Adam was dead, Zambia got suspicious of me. She was sure I’d killed the man she loved. So she demanded a meeting, then she accused me of killing Adam and told me she was going to the police with everything… So I had no choice. I had to kill her. Just like I have to kill you now.”

  “What I don’t understand,” Miss May said, “is why Zambia protected you for all those years. She had proof that you’d committed murder. That you’d murdered two of her closest friends, in fact.”

  “I had proof that she’d stolen money from the town after she was elected mayor,” Jefferson said. “Yeah, sure, she was close to Chelsea’s parents, but she’d stolen from them too — taken some of their personal donations to her campaign and used it for her own selfish purposes. She’d stolen and pilfered and cheated her way to the top, and I knew all about it. So we kept each other’s secrets. Mutually assured destruction, you know? It worked out for a long time, until it didn’t anymore.”

  “You stupid, lying, murdering—” I stood, my fists balled, but Miss May put a hand on my arm.

  “Chelsea.”

  I sat back down. Jefferson toggled the gun among the three of us. “So tell me… Which one of you wants to die first?”

  I looked Jefferson in the eye. That man had killed my parents. He wanted to kill me, too.

  I stood again. “Kill me first. Go ahead.”

  Jefferson shook out his hands to try to steady his nerves. He looked away. And in that moment, I lunged at him. And with all my might, I kicked him…right in his bad leg. Jefferson yelped like a wounded coyote.

  I wasn’t scared, like I normally was when faced with a killer. I felt invincible. Because I was flooded with a righteous confidence, a gut-wrenching, blinding fury that completely took over my senses. I had no hesitation, no consideration of the consequences. I just wanted to hurt Jefferson Nebraska.

  Jefferson tried to get back to his feet, but he was in obvious pain. He clutched his bad leg and screamed. With tremendous effort, he hoisted himself up, took one heavy step toward me, then another… But the floors in the old, rundown apartment were so crummy that when Jefferson took that second step, he fell through the floorboards and dangled there from his elbows.

  Jefferson screamed, even louder this time, and his gun skittered across the floor. I could smell the Chinese food wafting up from the new hole in the floor.

  “I’m falling through. Help! I’m falling through.”

  Miss May climbed to her feet. “You’re not falling. You’re just stuck.”

  “Please,” Jefferson begged. “I’m sorry. Don’t kill me. Are you going to kill me for what I did?”

  A female voice rang out from the doorway. “They might not kill you, but I will.”

  We turned toward the direction of the voice. Dorothy stood in the doorway. She was holding a gun.

  45

  Convertible Chaos

  I didn’t want Dorothy to shoot anyone. That was the only thought going through my mind as I strode toward her, my hands raised. “Put the gun down,” I said.

  Dorothy kneed me in the stomach and pushed me away. She held the gun to my head, just inches from my skull. “Sit on the couch. Next to the old ladies.”

  “Hey. You’re older than us,” said Teeny. “Just because you have good cheekbones doesn’t mean—”

  “Sit. Go.” Dorothy nudged the gun into my head. I took a step toward the couch, then I spun around and karate kicked Dorothy in the torso. She stumbled back and hit the wall with a loud thud.

  But the gun was still in her hand.

  Bang! The gun went off. I ducked, the sound reverberating in my ears. I had no idea where the bullet had gone.

  Teeny and Miss May shrieked. Jefferson screamed at the top of his lungs.

  Dorothy covered her mouth. “Oh my goodness. Oh my goodness. There are bullets in there.”

  I threw up my hands. “You didn’t even think that thing was loaded?”

  Dorothy stammered for a few seconds, then she turned and darted out of the apartment, back down the stairs.

  My eyes widened. “She’s running away. She left.”

  Teeny and Miss May jumped off the couch. “Don’t let her get away. Let’s go.”

  We hurried down the steps, one loud creak at a time. I could hear Jefferson shouting from upstairs as we exited. “Wait. You can’t leave me here. I’m stuck.”

  Miss May made eye contact with Mr. G as we left. “Call the cops.”

  Mr. G nodded. “Already did.”

  Dorothy peeled out of the parking lot in an old, white convertible. We followed in our VW bus.

  “Go faster.” Teeny tapped Miss May’s arm. “She’s getting away.”

  “I’m going as fast as I can.” Miss May swatted Teeny away. “That convertible is too powerful for us.”

  “We shoulda taken my car,” Teeny said.

  Dorothy turned off the main road and followed a sign for the highway.

  I leaned forward. “She’s leaving town.”

  Miss May tailed Dorothy toward the highway. “If she gets out on the highway before us, we’re not gonna be able to catch up with her.”

  Teeny bit her nails. “Mr. G said he called the cops. Maybe they’ll cut her off.”

  Miss May shook her head. “I don’t think so. They’re probably all headed to the China Palace. Mr. G might not even know that there’s another party involved in this.”

  I grabbed my phone. “Then I’ll call the police. Let them know.”

  Miss May shrugged. “That’s fine. But it’s still best if we can catch her now. The cops are gonna take a while to respond.”

  Ahead, Dorothy got stuck behind a school bus. I pointed. “She slowed down. This is our chance.”

  Miss May pressed her foot all the way down. The school bus turned down another road and cleared the path for Dorothy. We pulled up beside her just as she began to gain speed once more. Miss May rolled down her window. “Stop the car, Dorothy. The police are on their way.”

  Dorothy did not look over. She was focused on the road and determined to get away.

  “I have to stop her,” I said.

  Miss May looked back at me. “How?”

  “Stay steady. Try to stay side-by-side with her car for a few more seconds.”

  I stood up out of my seat and opened the sliding door in the side of the van.

  Teeny gaped at me. “Chelsea. No.”

  “We don’t have a choice.” I looked out. We were neck and neck with Dorothy’s car. I crept over to the open door and steadied myself. “I’m going to jump.”

  “Hurry,” said Teeny. “She’s putting the top up.”

  The automatic top to Dorothy’s convertible slowly closed. I took a deep breath, shut my eyes, and jumped.

  Thwump. I landed in the backseat of Dorothy’s car. She swerved and I climbed into the front seat.

  “Stop the car.”

  Dorothy reached under her seat and pulled out a tiny handgun. She pointed the small revolver at me while keeping her eyes on the road. “No. You’re my hostage now.”

  I cringed. I should have thought through my plan more carefully. I didn’t assume Dorothy would have more than one firearm.

  Dorothy looked over at me. “Sorry a
bout what happened to your parents. But I’m not going to jail for what I did. I didn’t even kill anyone, really. I just suggested it! Suggesting murder is not the same as murder. And I won’t let you stop me from making my escape.”

  Miss May honked the horn on the van, long and loud. She honked again and again.

  Dorothy and I were locked in intense eye contact. Like a high stakes staring contest. Two women, ready to fight to the death.

  Then…

  Crash. I lunged forward in my seat. The car stopped. I hit my head on the windshield.

  My vision got blurry. I touched my head and looked at my hand. I was bleeding. I looked over at Dorothy. She was slumped against the wheel.

  Then my vision faded and everything went black.

  Twenty minutes later, I slowly awoke. Sirens flashed around me. My head had been bandaged. Detective Wayne Hudson stood above me.

  He gave me a small smile. “Chelsea. You were in an accident.”

  Groggy, I propped myself up on one elbow. “Dorothy…”

  Wayne nodded. “Teeny and Miss May told us. She’s been placed under arrest for conspiracy to commit murder.”

  I looked around. EMT personnel crouched beside me. I was in the back of an ambulance, parked beside Dorothy’s mangled convertible.

  “Jefferson Nebraska…” I croaked.

  “He’s also been placed under arrest for multiple counts of homicide. Although he’s not back at the department yet. Still stuck in the floor above the Chinese place, getting cut out.”

  I smirked. Despite the circumstances, the image of Jefferson dangling in that apartment was funny. Wayne and I made eye contact. He put his hand on my hand. “I’m glad you’re alright.”

  “Me too.”

  “Heard you jumped into a moving convertible. That was being driven by an armed criminal.”

  I moaned. “Should have had a better plan.”

  Miss May and Teeny approached the back of the ambulance. “Thank goodness, you’re awake!” Miss May said.