Shot Through the Tart

by Chelsea Thomas

  Wayne nodded a cordial hello, then he took Miss May’s hand and helped her to the back of the ambulance. She collapsed on top of me and gave me a big hug. “Chelsea. You scared me.”

  Teeny flopped on top of Miss May. “Group hug!” Teeny declared.

  I laughed. We all did. “I’m going to leave you three to talk.” Wayne climbed out of the ambulance, then turned back to me. “Good work, Chelsea.”

  I smiled. “Thanks.”

  46

  In Sickness and in Stealth

  I’ve always hated hospitals. My whole life, the only reason I’ve ever been to one is to visit a sick person. Or a dead person. Or sick person who was about to be dead.

  So I protested when the ambulance driver told me we were headed to New York Presbyterian. I just wanted to go home. And I insisted that I was fine.

  Apparently, medical professionals don’t let you go home if you’ve suffered a broken wrist and a concussion in a car accident. So I lost that argument and had to spend the afternoon in a hospital bed.

  Miss May and Teeny hung out with me for most of the day. Then they slipped out to grab some coffee from the break room. And I got a special, surprise visitor.

  “Knock, knock.” Germany entered, holding a bouquet of flowers.

  I smiled my biggest, brightest smile in the history of smiles. “Germany. You’re out of jail. I’ve been asking about you.”

  “Discharge paperwork took a while. I’m not sure the Pine Grove Police Department has ever had to discharge a suspected murderer on the same day they’ve also arrested two new murderers before. It was a little chaotic.”

  Germany approached and handed me the bouquet of flowers. It was the biggest bouquet I had ever seen, and that was saying something considering that Germany’s signature style was giant bouquets. I laughed. “Thank you. Where’d you get so many flowers?”

  “I bought every bouquet from the flower shop and had them all combined into one. I wanted the flowers to reflect the depths of my love for you. So here you are. This is the best I could do. Consider this only a fraction of the depth of my love. All the flowers in the world wouldn’t be enough to demonstrate how relieved I am that you’ve only suffered a broken bone and a mild concussion from your wild escapades out on the streets this afternoon.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t have any flowers for you.”

  “That makes sense, considering the aforementioned concussion and broken bone.”

  “True,” I said. “I suppose I won’t feel too bad about it. I’m glad you made it out of jail. Although I’ll admit, I liked having a bad boy for a boyfriend. Just for a minute.”

  Germany stood tall and gave me his best bad boy glare. “Oh, I’m bad. So bad. The type of guy that recycles plastic that still has food particles on it.”

  I smiled and gestured to a nearby chair. “Pull up a seat. I’ll give you a bite of my Jell-O.”

  “That sounds nice.” Germany pulled up the chair and sat beside me. “Everyone in town is talking about you, by the way. They were all already impressed by you, but now that you’ve jumped from one car to another… You’re a legend. I’m proud of you.”

  “Thank you.”

  Germany took my hand. “And is it true… You’ve solved the mystery of what happened to your parents?”

  I nodded. “It feels good. In a strange way, it makes me sad… Closing that chapter. But I feel more complete. Somehow I feel more…at peace.”

  “You’ve gotten closure.”

  I shrugged. “I’m not sure I’ll ever feel closure about my parents. But I did get one step closer.”

  “That’s exactly how I felt when you solved the mystery of my parents’ murder,” said Germany. “I’m grateful that you know the feeling now. I understand how it’s painful. But it’s a good pain, and it lessens over time. I’m sorry I couldn’t help more, but alas, I was behind bars.”

  “That’s OK, Germany. You helped in your own way.”

  Germany looked down. He fiddled with the edge of my blanket. “Chelsea?”

  I looked up and we made eye contact. “Yes?”

  “Perhaps now isn’t the time… But a day or two ago… I told you I love you.”

  “I remember.” I laughed.

  Germany bit his lower lip. “And?”

  I squeezed his hand. Maybe it was my recent near-death experience, or the flood of relief I felt about my parents. Or maybe it was just…love. Whatever it was, I looked into Germany’s eyes and I was overcome with feeling. “I love you, too.”

  Germany leaned over the edge of the bed and kissed me. The kiss was…relaxing. It grounded me in the moment, and I let it wash over me, like a warm bath.

  “Good kiss,” he said.

  I nodded. “I agree.”

  Miss May crept into the room on her tippy toes. “Guys?”

  Germany and I turned toward her. “Yeah?” I said.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” said Miss May. “But the whole town is here to see you.”

  I sat up. “They are?”

  Miss May smiled. She crossed to the curtain hiding my bed from view and pulled it back. There stood at least half of the population of Pine Grove. They exploded with applause when they saw me. I laughed.

  “Everybody wanted to celebrate the ending of another mystery but we couldn’t do it without you,” said Miss May. “Should I tell them to come in?”

  I smiled. “Of course. Let’s party. There’s plenty of Jell-O to go around.”

  The End

  Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed this book and liked spending a little time in Pine Grove with Chelsea, Teeny and Miss May.

  The next book in this series - PEACHES AND SCREAM - finds our girls investigating yet another murder in Pine Grove.

  This time, a dead body shows up in the bake shop during Miss May’s annual “Peach Party.” Everyone in town as at the party. But who was smart enough to pull off the murder during such a big bash? And how did they do it?

  You need to read this story because it’s packed with lots of quirky new characters, and it’s our toughest mystery yet.

  Find out more HERE.

  In the meantime, have you read APPLE DIE, the very first installment in the apple orchard series? If you liked this book, you’ll love the story of the first murder Chelsea and Miss May ever solved.

  Apple Die - Excerpt

  Chapter 1

  Left at the altar. What a cliché. I hadn’t thought my fiancé, Mike, capable of such an unoriginal break-up. But there we were, at the altar, and he kept checking the exits like he was about to rob a bank.

  “Are you OK?” I whispered as the priest said some stuff in Latin.

  Mike wiped sweat off his forehead. “I’m fine.”

  “You’re sweating a lot.”

  “I said I’m fine.”

  Before I could get further confirmation, the priest joined Mike’s sweaty hands with my hands, and he proceeded with the vows. “Do you, Chelsea Rae Thomas, take Michael Martin Gherkin as your husband, until death do you part?”

  “I do.” Easy answer, or so I thought.

  The priest turned to Mike. “And do you, Michael, take Chelsea as your lawfully wedded wife?”

  Mike swallowed so loud it echoed in the pulpit. Then, after a long moment, he said, “Uh, I think I forgot something in the hotel.” And he turned. And he walked back down the aisle.

  Hushed whispers erupted among the guests as Mike took step after plodding step toward the exit. But the whispers became full-blown conversation as Mike broke into a trot and darted out the door.

  Every eyeball in the pews watched as Mike left, and once he vanished from sight, all those eyeballs swung to me. What will Chelsea do now?

  I’ll tell you what I did. I stood there, shocked, as excuses whirled through my mind like snowflakes in a blizzard.

  He forgot the ring, I thought. Or he absent-mindedly neglected to wear underwear. He’d done that before. Or he needed to go to the bathroom. Really, really bad. Also not uncommon for
him.

  After about fifteen seconds of pin-drop silence, the priest cleared his throat, and I snapped back to reality.

  “Uh…” I fiddled with my necklace. “It's possible he really forgot something.”

  “That's possible. Yes.” The priest covered his microphone and leaned toward me. “Why don’t you try calling him?”

  My eyes welled with tears. “I’m wearing a wedding dress. I don’t have my phone.”

  The priest nodded and stepped back to his place at the altar. “Would anyone here today be so kind as to call the groom?”

  Yet another hushed whisper whooshed through the crowd. You want us to call him?! The priest continued, “Normally I frown on cell phone usage in the church. But we have another wedding in a half an hour, and it would be good to know when Michael might be back.”

  My Aunt May — a sturdy woman most people called “Miss May” — stood up. “I tried him. No answer.”

  Miss May looked at me. Ever since my parents had died, she had been like my mom and dad all rolled up into one. In that moment, I felt her sympathy, and I saw the hurt of a thousand parents in her sharp blue eyes. That’s when I realized… This had to end.

  I turned to the priest. “I should go, shouldn't I?”

  The priest nodded and pulled me close to him. “Go with God.”

  I took a deep breath and looked out over the wedding guests. The perceptive among them knew what was about to happen. Everyone else was in for a sight they would never forget.

  I wiped my tears. I took off my way-too-expensive, peep-toe heels, one at a time. And I marched down the aisle with my head held high.

  I dropped one of my shoes as I climbed down from the altar, but I didn’t stop to get it. Someday, I’ll get Cinderella'd with that lost slipper. I thought. All I needed was a prince that wouldn’t run screaming out of the chapel on our wedding day.

  When I got about a third of the way down the aisle, Miss May was standing there with her arm extended to escort me out. When I saw her, I burst into grateful tears, and my whole body flooded with relief as I slipped my arm through hers.

  “That dress looks amazing on you,” Miss May said. “Well worth the thousand bucks.”

  At that, I cracked up laughing. Miss May had a way of hitting me right in the funny bone, even when I was bereft of joy.

  “Let’s get out of here,” I said. And I walked out of the church, chin up, arm-in-arm with my aunt instead of my husband.

  When I got back to the hotel room, I found Mike's tuxedo in a rumpled pile with a note pinned to the lapel that said, “I have no clue where to return this.”

  After I muttered a few not-so-kind suggestions about where Mike might shove that tux, I marched out to the parking lot and tossed it into the dumpster, shoes and all.

  “Take that, you stupid jerk face!”

  I screamed, because I thought I was alone. Then I kicked the dumpster, also because I thought I was alone.

  “Ma’am?”

  I was not alone.

  I spun around as a security guard approached from the shadows. My wedding dress slid off my shoulders. Mascara ran down my cheeks. My “up-do” had transformed into an “up-don’t.” I must have been a sight. Still, the security guard attempted a cautious but well-intentioned word.

  “Congratulations?”

  And thus ended my wedding day. Hooray.

  Chapter 2

  Six months later, I was living alone in a dingy studio apartment in Jersey City, New Jersey, at my all-time low. My social life no longer existed. My business was in shambles. And my only human contact was with Hao Hu, the Chinese delivery guy who brought me Lo Mein every night at six. I want to say Hao was my best friend, but I’m not sure he’d say the same of me.

  It was a rainy Tuesday, or Wednesday, or a Friday, when my life took a turn for the better.

  The time was 6:03 PM and Hao was three minutes late with my Lo Mein. Hao hadn’t been late during my entire stint in Jersey City, so I worried a taxi had mowed him down as he pedaled his way through traffic with my food.

  I imagined the whole grisly scene. Hao splayed on the pavement. My ill-fated Lo Mein splattered like guts on the rain-soaked streets. Hao’s bike a twisted hunk of metal in the gutter. The clock struck 6:04, and I grabbed my phone, milliseconds from calling 9-1-1 to report a missing delivery boy. Then, there was a knock at the door. Phewph.

  “Hi Hao,” I called out. “Thank God you’re alive. Give me one second!”

  I pulled on my good pajama pants and bounced across the room with a smile, excited for Lo Mein time. But when I opened the door, it was not Hao Hu. It was Miss May, holding a big bag of Chinese food.

  “Is that my—”

  Miss May smiled. “Yep. I followed the delivery guy in and intercepted him in the stairwell.”

  “How did you figure out the food was for me?”

  “I asked, ‘Is that food for Chelsea?’ and he said yes. I paid him extra to let me deliver it.”

  Miss May stepped inside and looked around. Her sharp blue eyes took in the plastic wall clock, the lumpy futon, the painful fluorescent lights, and every other sordid detail of my dusty Jersey City pad. Last and quite possibly least, her gaze rested on me. Yes, I was wearing my good pajama pants. No, Miss May did not seem impressed. She sighed, “Don’t tell me you call this place home.”

  I hung my head in shame and also to see if my t-shirt had any stains on it. It did. Spicy mustard. Oh well.

  “Um. Maybe not home. But this is where I’ve been living. It’s… cozy.”

  Miss May ran her finger along one of the dusty counters. “No wonder you haven’t let me visit. I’m going to catch the avian flu just standing here.”

  I smiled. Miss May said everything with such familiarity. I felt at home whenever she was around. I needed that. Possibly even more than I needed my Lo Mein. Although, it was past my normal feeding time.

  Miss May opened and shut a few cabinets. “Do you have utensils, or have you been eating with your hands?”

  “The Chinese place brings me fresh chopsticks with every order,” I said.

  Miss May cleared some junk mail off the kitchen table so we would have a place to eat.

  “Does Mike know this is how you’re living now?”

  I shrugged. “I haven’t asked him.”

  “You haven’t talked to him at all?” Miss May raised an eyebrow.

  “I mean, I’ve yelled a lot of four-letter-words at him in my head. But other than that, there hasn’t been much to say.”

  Thunk. Miss May tossed the junk mail in the trash, annoyed. “I still can’t believe that rat locked you out of your whole life.”

  “Technically it was his right. His name was on the lease.”

  “But did he need to take your business too? It was an interior design company. You were the interior designer! What’s he going to do with that company now?”

  “His name… was on the paperwork. I don’t know, maybe he’ll marry a younger, prettier interior designer.”

  Miss May closed a cabinet with a thud. “Where are these damn utensils?”

  “I don’t have any!”

  Miss May looked at me in disbelief.

  I backpedaled. “I have one spoon. At most.”

  “But how have you—”

  “I told you. They bring chopsticks.”

  Miss May laughed. “Chelsea Rae. You kill me.”

  I picked at my fingernails. “I’ve been going through some stuff.”

  Miss May crossed over to me. “There’s no excuse for not owning a single piece of silverware. Are you still feeling down?”

  “I’m fine,” I said. “We don’t have to talk about this again. Really. We’ve talked it into the ground, through the center of the earth, and back out the other side.”

  “I just want to see you back on your feet.” Miss May clocked my pajamas. “Wearing day-pants.”

  I laughed. “These are my day pajamas!”

  “I’m sorry, but there is no such thing!”
<
br />   Miss May set the Chinese food out on the table. “Found the chopsticks!” She pulled a pair of chop sticks out of the bag in triumph. “Come on, sit.”

  After I got over the shock of seeing my little kitchen table cleared and set for dinner, I made my way over and took a seat.

  Miss May served each of us a big heap of noodles, distracting me as she changed the subject. “So! You're probably curious about why I'm here.”

  “It’s not just to say hi?” I took a bite of Lo Mein.

  “Nope,” Miss May said. “When I woke up this morning, I was struck by an amazing idea!”

  I added hot sauce to my food. “…OK.”

  Miss May gestured around my apartment. “Despite this collection of fast food garbage and used furniture, you are easily the best interior designer in the Tri-State area. I mean, I saw how you decorated for that wedding reception. It was incredible!”

  I winced. The reception hall. We never even got to that part. Mike wouldn’t have appreciated it, anyway.

  “I know. You’re still sensitive about the runaway groom thing. But my idea, this big idea, can help you get over that whole situation.” She paused for effect. “Ready for my big idea?”

  I tried to muster a hopeful smile but only got halfway there. I was afraid that Miss May’s big idea would mean a big change for me, and I didn’t think I was ready for a big change.

  Hao Hu and I were two peas in a Chinese pod. Why risk messing with that chemistry?

  Miss May took my hand in hers. “I want you to come work at the orchard. Help me in the bake shop. More importantly, I want you to be in charge of decorating all our events.”

  I tensed up. Miss May was challenging me to rise to the occasion, and I wasn’t sure I had it in me. Plus, her standards were high, and I hated working under that kind of scrutiny. Miss May read my mind.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll stay out of the way. You work with the clients. You make the decisions. I’m getting ‘chill’ in my old age. I promise.”