Cooking the Books

by Chelsea Thomas

  “I’m not kicking you out,” Wayne pointed toward the door. “Your aunt and her friend just got here.”

  I turned.

  Miss May gave a little wave from the doorway. “Hope we’re not interrupting.”

  “You’re not,” Wayne said.

  You are, I thought.

  “Are you sure?” Miss May winked at us.

  Teeny smothered her girlish giggle in her hand. My face blushed redder than a Red Delicious.

  Miss May’s voice shifted from meddling aunt to stern lawyer. “So. What’s the meaning of this anyway? It’s not every day you see a detective detain an innocent citizen for no reason whatsoever.”

  Wayne balked. “There was a grieving widow—”

  “One grieving widow and all proper police procedure goes out the door?”

  “It’s fine,” I said. “We already talked about it. Wayne was just placating Principal Fitz. Right?”

  “That’s an oversimplification of my duties, but essentially,” Wayne said.

  “Well, as long as you two worked it out,” Miss May said. “Sorry we took so long to get here. The line at Brian’s was out the door.” Miss May handed Wayne a cup from the Brown Cow. “Latte?”

  “I don’t do lattes.” Wayne’s hackles were up. Miss May could have offered him a straight shot of bootleg whiskey, and it wouldn’t have been manly enough for him.

  “You know a latte is just coffee and milk, right?” Teeny sipped her drink. “And it is oh so delicious!”

  “You’re kind of looking a gift latte in the mouth,” I said. I was feeling pugnacious toward Wayne, and his rejection of Miss May’s generosity rankled me.

  Wayne sighed. “OK. I’ll take the stupid foamy thing. Thank you. So much.”

  Wayne grabbed the latte from his desk and I watched as he took a sip. He clearly liked the drink and he glanced my way with a grudging smile. I smiled back. I wasn’t sure why we were smiling, but I liked it. I liked it a lot.

  WHEN WE LEFT THE STATION, Miss May threw her arm around my shoulders.

  “Alright, jailbird. What do you want for dinner? Anywhere you want to go.”

  I looked over at Teeny with a sly smile, and she read my mind. “She wants HBL!”

  “What’s HBL?” Miss May asked.

  Teeny and I replied in unison. “Hashbrown Lasagna!”

  Half an hour later, we were sitting in our usual booth at Grandma’s, reviewing the case in between bites of HBL.

  Teeny licked her fork. “That is sooooooooo good!” She never shied away from complimenting her own creations. “I see a Michelin star in my future.” Teeny glanced at Miss May’s barely touched plate. “What’s the matter? Was yours not good?”

  Miss May pushed the cheesy masterpiece around on her plate. “No, no. It was good. Of course it was.”

  Teeny stole a bit of Miss May’s food. “So what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. Everything’s fine. It’s just...” Miss May looked up at Teeny. “I should have known better than to suspect Florence. She’s a friend. And we went to her husband’s funeral and —”

  “We didn’t actually question anyone,” Teeny said.

  “But we almost did,” Miss May said.

  “Think of it this way,” Teeny said. “If we had solved the crime at the funeral, I think it would have been worth it. Right?”

  Miss May shrugged. “I guess.”

  “Oh, you know it would have,” Teeny said. “And Florence would have been happy, too. Maybe not ‘happy’ happy. But you know what I mean.”

  “I guess you’re right,” Miss May said. “And even if you’re not, sitting here and moping doesn’t do us much good.”

  Miss May took a bite of her food, and we sat in silence as she chewed.

  “So what’s next?” I asked.

  Miss May shrugged. “I have no idea.”

  Yet again, it seemed we were at an impasse.

  The bells above the door jangled, and Jennifer Paul entered the restaurant. She was...a touch overdressed for the diner. She wore a floor-length silk dress, and her curly hair was piled on her head in an elegant bun.

  I gestured toward Jennifer. “I think she’s in the wrong place. Broadway is about forty miles south.”

  Teeny chuckled. “Grandma’s is a classy establishment, but not that classy.”

  Jennifer slid into a booth across the room. I swiveled my gaze to Miss May. “Maybe our next lead just sat down?”

  Miss May frowned. “No way, no how. There’s no way I’m questioning another friend in this murder. I messed up enough already.”

  “Friend?” I raised my eyebrows.

  “Chels, I know you don’t like the girl, but she’s been cutting my hair for almost ten years. Maybe that’s not a friend, but it’s something.”

  “She does a great job,” Teeny said.

  “I have easy hair,” Miss May replied.

  “Your hair does look great. But your hairdresser was sleeping with the victim,” I said. “And look at her clothes. Look at her purse! She clearly just came into money.”

  Jennifer rifled through a pebbled-leather bucket bag. It was a deep, warm brown with impeccable hand-stitching and a bronze clasp. The thing had “designer brand” written all over it.

  “It’s a purse, not a Porsche,” Miss May said. “She probably got it secondhand or online.”

  Before I could respond, Liz approached our booth. Dark sunglasses obscured her eyes, despite the encroaching dusk.

  “Hello, Teeny. I would like to make an order.” Liz spoke in a weird, loud monotone.

  “Why are you telling me?” Teeny asked. “I’m off-duty. Also, why are you talking so loud?”

  Liz leaned in and hissed, “Act like we’re having a casual conversation.”

  Teeny wiped her mouth. “We are having a casual conversation.”

  Liz raised her voice again. “Yes, please! One hashbrown lasagna to go. Can you do that extra crispy?”

  Teeny looked at me, then back up at Liz. “OK. I’m confused.”

  I tried to keep a straight face. Teeny wasn’t great at picking up on subtlety, and Liz wasn’t great at dispensing it.

  “I have information,” Liz said. “It’s all in the note.”

  “What note?” Teeny asked. “What’s going on?”

  Liz grabbed Teeny’s hand and shook it. “Thank you in advance for the crispy hashbrowns. I love them nice and crispy!”

  In a flourish, Liz bustled toward the door and exited as quickly as she’d appeared.

  “That was bizarre,” Miss May said.

  Teeny held up a small piece of paper. “She put a note in my hand!”

  “Read it!” Miss May and I said at the same time.

  Teeny unfolded the note and whisper-read, “‘Pine Grove Dam. Twenty minutes. I know who killed the money man.’”

  23

  Dammed If We Do

  EIGHTEEN MINUTES LATER, we pulled into the parking lot at Pine Grove Dam. For the second time in a few days, I was revisiting the site of my ill-fated proposal. Why did Mike have to ruin this scenic spot for me?

  I tried to shake off my bad deja-vu. I can wallow later, I reasoned. At home. Over a large, large plate of cookies. And maybe a donut. I’ll play it by ear.

  A few feet away, Liz paced like a caged reporter, still wearing her sunglasses. Is she hiding something behind those shades? I wondered. Or is she losing it under the pressure of the job?

  “Finally!” Liz said as we piled out of the VW bus. “I was beginning to think they’d gotten to you.”

  They who? I doubted that Liz had solved both murders, but I was curious to hear her theory.

  “Calm down, Liz,” Miss May said. “Stop pacing and talk to us.”

  “I don’t need to talk. I need to show you something.”

  Miss May glanced at me, then back to Liz. “OK. What’ve you got?”

  Liz extracted a manila envelope from her purse and handed it to Miss May.

  Miss May pinched together the prongs of the envelope
and emptied its contents. I peered over her shoulder as she shuffled through several grainy pictures. The photos all showed a woman and a man huddled together under the local Metro north train tracks. The couple looked conspiratorial, like they were sharing state secrets. A lot like how we must have looked in the freezing cold out by the dam.

  “Who are those people?” Teeny asked.

  Miss May used the flashlight on her phone to get a better look. “I’m not sure. I think the woman might be...the mayor?”

  “You bet your shorts that’s the mayor,” Liz said. “You want to know who she’s with?”

  “Why else would we be out here freezing our petunias off?” Teeny asked. “Spit it out already!”

  “Hey!” Liz bristled. “If you don’t like my style, you can leave.”

  “If this has something to do with the killer, sooner is better than later.” Miss May shot a look at Teeny. “I’m sure that’s all Teeny is saying.”

  “Right,” Teeny muttered. “So sorry. Didn’t mean to offend you. But my petunia is freezing, so...”

  “OK. I’m leaving.” Liz turned to go.

  “Wait,” Miss May said.

  Liz paused.

  Miss May took a steadying breath. “We’re all here to figure out who the killer is, right?”

  “I guess that’s true,” Liz said.

  “So will you tell us who that man is, and why the photos are so important?” Miss May smiled.

  “Fine,” Liz said. “The man in the photo is none other than...” Drumroll, please... “Vlad.”

  I blinked. “Vlad, like...dead Vlad?”

  “Yup.” Liz pointed at the photo. “See? He’s wearing the hat from the Dragonfly.”

  Miss May squinted. “Huh. What did he want with the mayor?”

  “My suspicion is that the mayor is planning a run at the governor’s mansion,” Liz said. “But Charles had information that compromised her candidacy. So she hired Vlad to kill Charles. I pieced it all together after you confirmed that Vlad was involved in politics. I think Vlad must have been some kind of ‘eraser’ that people in power use to make things go away.”

  At first, I thought Liz had to be wrong. Miss May and I had already decided Vlad was a bookie, and we had purposely misdirected Liz toward politics. Still, it was odd that Vlad had been conspiring with the mayor. What could they have been talking about?

  “Have you told the police about this?” Miss May asked.

  Liz shook her head. “I want to break the story in the paper or sell it to the Times. But the mayor hates me, so I haven’t been able to get close enough to her to gather more information.”

  “And that’s why you brought this to us,” Miss May said.

  “You catch on quick,” Liz said. “I was hoping now that you have the information, you might do some digging for me.”

  “What’s in it for us?” Teeny asked.

  “You get to put another bad guy behind bars,” Liz said. “Isn’t that what you want?”

  Miss May nodded. “That is what we want. You’re right.” Teeny shrugged like, “more or less.”

  “So?” Liz looked hopeful. “Are you in?”

  Miss May held her hand out.

  “Let me see that picture again.”

  24

  Raising the Stakeouts

  THE NEXT MORNING, I prepared for my first official stakeout. The only problem? I had no idea how to prepare for a stakeout. I decided to go with the classic trench coat and sunglasses. I then took an embarrassing “detective selfie,” which I immediately deleted from existence. I did look cute in a trench coat though.

  Miss May decided to take KP’s beater rather than her trusty van. “Sunshine yellow” is not an incognito color. And “VW bus” is not an incognito car.

  “KP doesn’t care if we borrow his car?” I asked.

  “I don’t know,” Miss said. “I didn’t ask him.”

  “Miss May!”

  KP’s old junker was Frankensteined together from bits and pieces of other cars. By most standards, it was a monster. But, like any mad doctor, KP loved his creation. And he rarely let anyone else drive it.

  Fortunately, Miss May had a spare key, so we piled into the beater with all our stakeout gear. Then we rumbled away from the farm, fingers crossed that KP was too busy feeding See-Saw to notice his truck had been “borrowed.”

  Before we got to Town Hall, we stopped to pick up coffee and muffins at the Brown Cow. When we got there, it was still dark outside. I was not usually an early riser, so I was surprised to see a business open before the sun came up.

  But Brian was already up and running when we shuffled in for our morning caffeine. He was so awake, I wondered if he had gone to bed the night before. Or ever. Maybe Brian never slept. Maybe he was a robot!

  Woof. It was too early for me to be thinking.

  I couldn’t decide what to order, so Brian made me a mocha with homemade ganache, which I can say with confidence was the best drink I had ever had. I told him it was so good it made me feel like I was going blind. I was not sure if he took it as a compliment.

  After the Brown Cow, we drove over to town hall and parked across the street, so we could intercept the mayor on her way into the office. It was Sunday, and most small-town mayors were probably sleeping in or curling up with a good book. But Mayor Delgado was famous in Pine Grove for working seven days a week, and Miss May reasoned that city hall would be the perfect place to catch Delgado off guard.

  Thus commenced the sitting and waiting. In the movies, detectives get bored and fall asleep for that part. But I was so pumped to be on my first stakeout, I couldn’t have slept even if Brian had mixed sleeping pills into my ganache. OK, maybe the sleeping pills would have worked. You get my point.

  As we waited, Miss May and I tossed a few theories back and forth.

  “Do you think Liz was right about the mayor and Vlad?” I asked. “Is it possible that the mayor is running for governor, and that Charles had information that would compromise her?”

  Miss May shrugged. “That seems farfetched. Although it also seems equally farfetched for two people to turn up dead in Pine Grove, so I’m not ruling anything out.”

  “Mayor Delgado seems ambitious to me,” I said. “I bet she does want to run for governor.”

  “I know,” Miss May said. “But if Delgado hired Vlad to kill Charles, why was Vlad still in town days after Charles turned up dead? And why did he ransack Jennifer’s salon?”

  I turned on my seat-warmer and tucked my legs under my butt. “That’s a good point. It would be weird for a contract killer to get a room in a BnB after killing his victim. Not exactly the time to appreciate the local scenery and home-cooked food.”

  “That doesn’t mean the mayor wasn’t involved, though,” Miss May said. “Why else would she have any contact with the killer?”

  Goosebumps tingled up and down my arms as I gazed through the windshield. How easy it is to forget, I mused, that we are hunting a murderer.

  I had a distinct case of the creeps. But Miss May was as relaxed as ever. She yawned, leaned her chair back, and told me to wake her up when the mayor arrived.

  “Seriously? You’re napping?”

  “Just closing my eyes real quick.” Miss May rolled over and let out another big yawn. I sighed. This was going to be a long morning.

  For the first three hours, not much happened. I spotted Humphrey, the grumpy old regular from Grandma’s, walking Semolina the Fat Hound. Then I spotted a few squirrels, bickering noisily as they darted across a power line.

  After a while, my eyes drooped, and my mind wandered. Sleep was calling to me, and it made a pretty convincing argument. “Rest your eyes,” Sleep said. “Close them for a few seconds. It’ll feel sooo nice.”

  Just as Sleep was about to talk me into doing something I’d regret, a doe and two fawns bounded out in front of KP’s Franken-car. I sat up in my seat, and my eyes sprang open. I let out a long, low, “Woooow.” My breath poofed into the cold space between the seat
and the windshield.

  The deer and her fawns were all sinew and grace, hooved ballerinas transforming the snowy streets into their stage. I thought about waking Miss May, but the moment would seem less special to her. At the orchard, deer were so common, they were pests. But as a recovering city girl, I still thought they were beautiful pests.

  I watched the deer until they disappeared behind a building. A few moments later a nice, new sedan pulled up and parked in front of city hall.

  I tapped Miss May as the sedan idled. “Hey! Wake up!”

  Miss May rubbed her eyes. “She’s here?”

  “Yes! Look!”

  Miss May peered out the window as the mayor climbed out of her car and grabbed a briefcase out of the backseat.

  “What do we do!?” I asked.

  “We go!” Miss May unbuckled her seatbelt, jumped out of the car and hurried toward town hall. My aunt moved fast for a woman who had just been in a deep slumber. I grabbed the keys out of the ignition and followed her.

  The mayor was about to enter the building when Miss May called out, “Mayor Delgado! Hi!”

  Mayor Delgado turned back as Miss May and I approached. The mayor looked weary, like she thought it was way too early on a Sunday to deal with Miss May. I could relate.

  “May. How are you?” The mayor smiled, ever the politician. “What are you doing here so early on a Sunday?”

  “Coming to see you. What else?” Miss May smiled right back. Both women were acting cordial, but animosity simmered beneath their polite exteriors.

  “Is there a town matter you’d like to discuss? I know you don’t like my streetlight initiative, but that’s on the back burner right now anyway.” Mayor Delgado opened the door and took a step inside. “You can bring it up at the next town meeting.”

  “This isn’t about the streetlights,” Miss May said.

  Delgado turned back. “For all other town business, you’ll need to schedule an appointment through my office. I wish I could see you today, but I’m swamped, as usual.” The mayor tried a casual laugh, but it sounded forced and robotic.

  “It’s Sunday,” Miss May said. “How swamped could you be?”

  “The town doesn’t run itself, May. I’m very swamped. I’m... the swampiest.” Delgado took another step inside. “Now if you’ll excuse me—”