“I know!” Gigley reddened. “The messages do not reflect well on my character.”
“There’s an understatement,” Miss May said. “Did you get your baseball?”
“No,” Gigley said. “They took away my cable, then they threatened to sue. Now I have to go to the electronics store any time I want to watch a game.”
Miss May and I cracked up laughing. The image of Tom Gigley, in his fresh-pressed, tailored suits, watching baseball in Pine Grove’s dingy electronics store was too much to handle.
“You do not watch the games in the store,” Miss May said, once she caught her breath.
Gigley crossed his arms. “Yes, I do. And the employees like it. They watch with me sometimes.”
Miss May and I burst into a new fit of giggles. Gigley waved us off.
“Laugh it up, you two. The point is, I have an alibi.”
“You have over four hundred alibis,” I said.
At that, Miss May laughed so hard I thought she might pass out. “Four hundred alibis!
Gigley squirmed in his chair. “Stop laughing, May! Those terrible emails are the only thing standing between me and incarceration. They might very well be the best thing that has ever happened to me.”
“So why dig up your money and run?” Miss May asked.
“I told you! They’re embarrassing. Everybody already knows about my ridiculous emails to Charles. I can’t have them find out about this cable company nightmare, too. I’ll lose clients. My reputation will be irrevocably soiled.”
“Alright,” Miss May said. “Don’t run yet. Let us catch the real killer. Then you can burn the emails in a ‘fiery inferno,’ and we can all pretend it never happened.”
“Deal,” Gigley stood. “Now let’s get out of here. This place is haunted.”
29
Hide Nor Hairdresser
THE NEXT DAY, I WOKE bright and semi-early to the sounds of Miss May baking. Miss May often baked to declutter her thoughts when she had a big problem to solve. I hoped that in the wee hours of that particular morning, she had come up with a new theory about the murders in Pine Grove. I also hoped there might be some fresh Appie Oaters for breakfast.
When I stumbled into the kitchen, my nose confirmed my hopes, at least about the Appie Oaters. Miss May had a dozen mixing bowls lined up beside jars of preserves and nutmeg and cinnamon. A dusting of flour coated her entire body. She’d been at this for a while.
“Morning,” she said when she saw me. “You’re just in time to help. Measure six cups of flour into that bowl?”
I grabbed the flour and took my time measuring it out.
“We got a rush order this morning,” Miss May said. “Five hundred pumpkin, five hundred chocolate chip. By tomorrow.”
“Oh,” I said. “I figured you were stress-baking. Contemplating the investigation.”
“Oh no, I am stress-baking,” Miss May said. “I’ve already made enough dough for two thousand pumpkin, two thousand chocolate chip. And fifteen batches of Appie Oaters.”
I laughed. “And? Has it worked? Have you had any breakthroughs?”
Miss May thudded dough onto the counter and punched it.
“I’ll take that as a no.”
Miss May glanced up at me. “You’re so perceptive.”
“I try,” I said, attempting to lightening the mood. I continued with a gentler approach. “Would you like to, perhaps, talk about the case? It might help to bat some theories around.”
“I thought you’d never ask.” Miss May tasted a little fleck of dough. “Vanilla?”
I handed the vanilla over, and Miss May added a dash to her dough.
“So,” she said. “The way I see it, we have two dead bodies and no good suspects.”
“That’s not true,” I said. “All this investigating we’ve done...we have to have a good suspect.”
“Who?” Miss May asked. “It wasn’t Gigley. He was too busy sending rage-mail to kill Charles, and he had no motive to kill the bookie. And it wasn’t Florence. She’s deep in the throes of mourning, and everyone knows it. Who does that leave?”
I picked a chocolate chip out of the dough and ate it. “Uh...I have no idea.”
I reached out to grab another chocolate chip, but Miss May smacked my hand away. “No dough until we figure this out! Or at least until we figure out what we should do next.”
I pouted. Miss May pulled the dough further away and shielded it from me.
“What about the mayor?” I asked.
Miss May balled up the dough and laid the cookies out on a baking sheet. “Vlad tried to extort her, so she called the cops. What about her?”
“I don’t know. Vlad did show up dead the next day. And he did have information the mayor wanted to hide.”
“So she killed the guy, risking her life and her freedom, to keep the public from seeing photos of her dancing with her husband-in-a-wig? She’s too smart for that.”
Miss May slid the tray of cookies into the oven. “Besides, Delgado said she didn’t have any money with Charles. And I’ve got to believe that the same person killed both these men.”
“Then all we have to do is figure out who had the motive to kill both Charles and the bookie,” I said.
Miss May gasped and turned back from the oven. “Jennifer.”
I scrunched up my face. “You think? I mean, she’s catty. But double homicide catty?”
“You said it yourself,” Miss May said. “We need to find someone who had a motive to kill both men. Jennifer was having relations with Charles, right?”
“Yeah...”
“And the whole reason we tried to find the bookie is because she described him to us as the guy who ransacked her house.”
“That’s true,” I said. “Maybe he came after her again, so she killed him in self-defense.”
“Or maybe he knew something,” Miss May said. “And she wanted him dead.”
MISS MAY WAS ON HER phone before we even got out to the van.
“Who are you calling?” I asked.
“Trying Jennifer at the salon, but it keeps ringing. No answer.” Miss May hung up.
“Is that unusual?”
“I’d say so. That girl picks up the phone at least twice every time she cuts my hair.”
“Sounds like her,” I said as I climbed into the passenger seat of the bus. “Does Jennifer have a haunted house in Connecticut we can visit?”
Miss May shook her head, ignoring my effort at levity. “I don’t think so.”
“So what do we do now?”
Miss May flomped behind the steering wheel. “Drive around and try to find her.”
I scoffed. “That’s it? That’s the plan? Not a very scientific process.”
“It’s a small town,” Miss May said. “If she’s in Pine Grove, we’ll spot her.”
“Unless she took off for good,” I said.
“Right,” Miss May shifted into drive and headed off the farm. “Unless she took off for good. With all our money.”
BEFORE WE DROVE INTO town, Miss May decided to swing by Jennifer’s salon ‘just for good measure.’ We pulled up to an apocalyptic scene.
A line of shaggy-haired customers milled about like zombies on Jennifer’s driveway, tapping on the windows, or pacing back and forth, confused. Jennifer was no longer overseeing her business, or at the very least, she hadn’t been there all day.
Although I had suspected Jennifer wouldn’t be at work, my skin still clammed up like a moist towelette when I saw all those baffled costumers. It was not like Jennifer to leave money on the table. Unless she took off with Charles’ stolen fortune, I thought. Better that than stick around and go to jail.
After we checked Jennifer’s, Miss May and I headed to Grandma’s to pick up Teeny. Teeny had been downright furious that she’d missed catching the last bad guy, so Miss May planned to invite Teeny along on the hunt for the missing Jennifer.
When we got to the restaurant, there was such a mob in the vestibule that we had to elbow our wa
y through the front door. And when we finally got inside, we couldn’t find Teeny anywhere...Until she ran past us so fast it blew up my skirt like an NYC subway breeze.
“Teeny!” Miss May called out.
“No time, May!” Teeny crossed the restaurant, grabbed a mop and wiped up a spill under a vacant table.
“You’re going to want to make time for this, Teeny,” Miss May said.
Teeny turned to us with her blue eyes in a manic panic. “I can’t make time, May! Do you see this? Do you see what that hashbrown lasagna has done to me? I just want things to go back to normal. Why won’t they go back to normal!?”
“OK, T. Calm down.” Miss May took Teeny by the shoulders. “Your restaurant is successful. This is a good thing. Don’t worry about me and Chelsea. Just keep calm and hashbrown on.”
Miss May turned to go, but Teeny caught her arm. “Wait!”
Miss May turned back.
“You’re not about to take down the bad guy...are you?” Teeny shrunk and made her most pitiable face.
Miss May hesitated. I could tell what she was thinking: Should we tell a little white lie to protect Teeny’s fragile heart? But we didn’t get the chance. Miss May’s momentary uncertainty was all the answer Teeny needed.
“No!” Teeny tossed her mop against the wall. “You have to wait!”
Miss May shook her head. “We can’t. There’s a killer on the loose.”
“Darn...tootin’!” Teeny stomped and crossed her arms. “This damn restaurant is ruining all my mystery fun! You at least have to tell me who it is. Please.”
Miss May looked over her shoulder to make sure no one was listening. Then she looked over her other shoulder. The coast was clear, so she leaned in and whispered the name of the suspect into Teeny’s ear.
Miss May’s subtle whisper was an exercise in futility. As soon as Teeny heard Jennifer’s name, she smacked her knee and yelled, “That little hair-cutting brat!”
“We don’t know anything for sure,” Miss May said. “In fact, we don’t even know where she is. That’s part of why we came here.”
“Has she been into the restaurant today?” I asked. “Or yesterday?”
Teeny narrowed her eyes and looked into the distance. Then, after twenty seconds, she turned back. “Nope. Haven’t seen her. But I’ll tell you if I do.”
“Thanks,” Miss May said. “And Teeny? Enjoy your success.”
Teeny’s shoulders relaxed a bit, but she waved Miss May off. “Yeah, yeah. This HBL will be the death of me!”
“Worse ways to go,” Miss May said. “Now you better get back into that kitchen, because something’s on fire.”
My gaze snapped to the kitchen, where smoke blossomed from an unknown source. Teeny pushed her way through the crowd to extinguish the fire, and Miss May and I slipped out the back, laughing.
30
Beach Bunny
THE NEXT STOP ON OUR whirling dervish tour of Pine Grove was the Brown Cow, our cozy little coffee spot right in the heart of town. When we entered, I was glad to see Rita working behind the coffee bar. Rita hadn’t always been an ally of mine, but she’d recently become a single mother, and parenthood had shifted her attitude from too-cool-for-school to please-be-my-friend-and-give-me-free-diapers.
“Chelsea! Hey!” Rita came out from behind the counter and hugged me and Miss May as we approached. “I haven’t seen you two in forever!”
“How was maternity leave?” I asked.
“Are you kidding me? More like maternity-don’t-leave-your-house. I’m so happy to be back at work!” Rita sighed. “Don’t get me wrong, Little Vinny’s a blessing. But I can only handle so many poop-filled blessings per day!”
Rita’s single mom-dom was not by choice. Her baby-daddy had been kind of a deadbeat. And he was also, well, dead. So she’d had it kind of rough.
Rita shook off her self-pity and mustered her best customer-service-smile. “What can I get you two?”
Miss May ordered a couple drinks, heavy on the cream, heavy on the sugar, light on the coffee. Once Rita started making them, Miss May leaned on the bar and adopted her most casual tone.
“Hey uh, has Jennifer Paul been in here today by any chance? I’m dying for a haircut but can’t get through.”
“Yeah,” Rita said. “Jennifer was here like twenty minutes ago. She was acting weird, though.”
I tried to imitate Miss May’s casual tone, but my voice came out like a choking cat. Maybe Wayne had been right about me having hairballs. “Weird how?” I squeaked.
“Weird weird.” Rita emphasized the second ‘weird’ like it would explain something. It didn’t.
“Totally,” I croaked. “Double weird.” What does that mean?
Rita foamed Miss May’s drink and dusted cinnamon on top. “She was wearing little jean shorts and a crop top, for one thing. Oh! And a big summer hat.”
“That qualifies as weird,” Miss May said. “It’s ten degrees outside.”
“I know,” Rita said. “My fake eyelashes froze in the car over night!”
“What else was weird?” I asked, getting a handle on my strangled cat vibe.
“She was wearing a bikini under that crop top,” Rita said. “I saw the polka-dots. And she kept talking about how she’s a certified lifeguard. She even asked me if I had sunscreen!”
Miss May and I exchanged a worried look.
“So by weird you meant like, insane,” I said.
“I try to stay away from words like that,” Rita said. “But yeah, something shattered inside her angry brain. Did you say you wanted cream in this?”
Did I want cream? Who could answer a question like that at a time like this?! Our prime suspect was losing her marbles. She could strike again at any moment!
“Chelsea?” Miss May said. “Do you want cream?”
I snapped out of it. “Cream. Yes. Lots, please. I don’t want to taste the coffee at all.”
“You got it,” Rita handed me the drink. “Take a sip and tell me if you want it any different.”
I sipped and offered a weak ‘yum.’
But I didn’t register the taste at all. I was too preoccupied with Jennifer and her summer adventure. In the freezing cold.
WHEN WE GOT TO HASTINGS Pond, I knew Jennifer would be there. But I was still stunned to see her sunbathing on the shore like we were knee-deep in the dog days of summer.
The weirdest part was that Jennifer looked comfortable. Relaxed, even. She was wearing a cute polka-dot bikini, she had earbuds in her ears, and she thumbed through a copy of a tabloid like it was a typical Sunday Funday. An iced latte from the Brown Cow was wedged into the snow beside her.
Miss May and I hovered at the edge of the beach. We were only ten feet away, but Jennifer didn’t notice us.
“Let’s be extra gentle in this conversation,” Miss May said.
I nodded. “Goes without saying.”
“OK,” Miss May eyed Jennifer. “She could be dangerous.”
“Kid gloves on,” I mimed slipping on a pair.
Miss May nodded. Then she took a deep breath and hooked her arm in mine. And we walked onto the snow-covered beach, one careful step at a time.
Jennifer didn’t notice our approach, even when we were practically standing on top of her. Miss May cleared her throat. No response. Miss May tried again, enunciating a loud, “Ahem!”
Jennifer looked up with big, glazed eyes. Her hair was matted, like she hadn’t washed it for days. “Miss May. Chelsea. Hi. Isn’t it lovely out here today?”
“It sure is,” Miss May said.
“I needed to take some ‘me’ time. After everything that’s happened.”
“That makes sense.” I sat beside Jennifer. “Do you mind if I, er... catch some rays beside you?”
“Sure.” Jennifer scooted over to make room on her blanket.
“The beach always clears my mind when I’m feeling down,” she said. “And I’ve been feeling real bad since Charles died. That stupid idiot!”
Miss
May zipped up her coat and tried to hide her shivers. “That’s right. You and Charles were, uh—”
“We were in love! At least I loved him. And I thought he loved me too. He told me to buy whatever I wanted. To treat myself like a queen. ‘Get a credit card, and I’ll pay the bills,’ he said. So I did! I upgraded my salon, I ordered half the furniture catalog. Every month I forwarded him the bill, and he said he paid it. He said he had all the money in Pine Grove to play with.”
Miss May inhaled sharply. Charles had obviously been stealing from his clients, and that hurt. Were we going to see that money again? My aunt kept her cool, though. “Let me guess. He didn’t pay the bills.”
“Worse! He used the cards to buy himself things, too. And he used cash advances to pay off his gambling debt. Anything to avoid spending his own money.”
Jennifer looked down. “That selfish. Greedy. Horrible...” She broke into a sob and pounded the snow with her fists. “He was supposed to take me to the beach. He promised he’d leave his grumpy old wife and take me anywhere I wanted to go. Now he’s gone. And I’m glad! He got what he deserved.”
Miss May and I exchanged a look. That got real. Fast.
Miss May squatted beside Jennifer. “Hey. It’s OK. You’re at the beach now, right?”
“It is not OK!” Jennifer stood up. “What are you doing here anyway? Is this...are you investigating me!? Get away!”
Jennifer backed toward the pond. The water was frozen on top, but it creaked under her weight.
“Jennifer...” I stood and tiptoed onto the ice. “The uh, the water’s not really warm enough for swimming today. Why don’t you come back to the beach?”
Jennifer’s lips were blue around the edges and her skin looked paper-white. I reached out a hand.
“No!” She yelled. She took another step back. With a deafening crack, the ice gave way beneath her.
I yelped. Miss May gulped. But Jennifer barely registered the temperature as she tumbled into the water. She flailed in the freezing slush. “Get away! This is my beach! I don’t want you here!”
Cooking the Books Page 17
