No Cone Unturned (Apple Orchard Cozy Mystery Book 12)

by Chelsea Thomas

  “No Petunia,” I said. “Maybe she’s spending the night with family or something.”

  “I don’t think so.” Miss May smirked.

  I saw Miss May’s face, and had a brief flash of where Petunia might be. I smirked right back. “Oh. Of course. Let’s go check it out.”

  Miss May crossed the parking lot toward the community center. I walked by her side and Teeny dragged a few steps behind us like a little puppy. “Somebody fill me in. What’s going on? I want to know.”

  “It’s obvious,” said Miss May. “You’ll see in a second.”

  Miss May pushed open the door to the community center with a dramatic flourish. The room billowed with smoke. And about ten elderly folks were seated around a table in the center of the room, playing poker. Petunia wore a green visor and chomped on an unlit cigar like a genuine card shark. Whatever had been happening at the table, the action was on her and she was enjoying the moment.

  “See, Gerald wants me to think he has a weak hand. That’s why he checked. But he raised pre-flop so I put him on a strong pocket pair or better. Pocket jacks, maybe. Or could be ace king, suited. This board works for both of those hands. So I think it’s a trap. Am I right, Gerald? Do you want me to bet so you can push all in and force me to a hard decision? I can’t believe you’d do me dirty like that after all the free cake I gave you tonight.”

  A man who I presumed to be Gerald looked Petunia straight in the eye but didn’t say a word.

  “You think you’re all strong and silent but the sides of your mouth just twitched up in a tiny little smile. Why could that be? Could it be because you’re excited to take my money? Not a chance. I fold.”

  Gerald slammed his cars down on the table. “You read me like a book, Petunia. It’s not fair. You filled me up with cake, you made me dizzy on sugar, and then you read me like a book. Now I remember why I stopped playing in this game. You’re a shark and I’m a little, baby minnow. We’re all little, baby minnows and you’re never satisfied until you’ve eaten us all up.”

  Petunia shrugged. “What can I say? The water is warm. You expect me not to swim?”

  Miss May cleared her throat. Petunia glanced back at us. “Let’s everybody take a break for five minutes. I’ve got business to handle. Tend to your wounds, cry your tears, come back with a fresh buy-in.”

  Petunia stood and hobbled over to us with her cane. “Did you see that?” Her eyes danced with excitement. “Gerald is so easy. He can’t hide his emotions. He’s got a liar’s heart but an expressive face. That’s why he’s been divorced so many times.”

  Miss May laughed. “You’ve got excellent powers of perception, Petunia.”

  “Nice alliteration,” said Petunia.

  “I think you mean obliteration,” said Teeny.

  “Definitely not.” Petunia removed the cigar from her mouth. “How’d you three get in here after dark? Let me guess. You talked the big, dumb guard into letting you through. He’s easy.”

  “Something like that,” I said. “Teeny reminded him of his purpose.”

  “Beautiful.” Petunia crossed her arms. “So what’s up?”

  “We need you to take us to see Ethel.”

  “I’m mad at Ethel,” said Petunia. “She wouldn’t come play in the game tonight, even though it’s the first one I’ve gotten going in a long time. Some best friend forever, she is. Where’s the support?”

  “We don’t want to get mixed up in your girl drama,” said Teeny. “Just take us over to her place. We don’t know where she lives.”

  “Do you think Ethel would be awake at this hour?” I said.

  Petunia scoffed. “What do you think because this is a retirement community we all go to bed as soon as the sun goes down? Of course she’s awake. She stays up every night for Jimmy Fallon. Thinks he’s a cutie. I don’t see it. Letterman’s my guy.”

  “He hasn’t been on TV for a while,” I said. “I mean, he has that show on Netflix now, but—”

  “That doesn’t matter, know-it-all. Now let’s get a move on. I’ll take you to Ethel, but I need to get back to my game. The fish are just starting to swim and I like my tuna sushi grade.”

  Miss May wrinkled her brow. “Was that poker lingo or did you make all those words up?”

  Petunia chuckled. “Half and half.”

  Ethel opened her front door wearing a purple nightgown trimmed in white lace, with curlers in her hair. All her lights were on and so was the TV in the living room. She put on her glasses and greeted us. “Miss May? Girls? What are you three doing here? If you’re going to try to convince me to play in a poker game, I’m not in the mood. I already told Petunia.”

  “Yeah, you told me,” Petunia growled. “What a disappointment. You’re an important part of that game.”

  “Well I wasn’t in the mood tonight. A girl can have moods, Petunia. You know that better than anyone.”

  “Whatever,” said Petunia. “Can we come in? It’s cold out here and I want to sit down.”

  We all took a seat around Ethel’s kitchen table. Petunia helped herself to some cookies from the cupboard, then joined us. After a brief explanation for our visit, Miss May began to ask Ethel about the visits she had been receiving from her nephew. Ethel confirmed that her nephew visited her every Thursday at 5 PM. But she seemed confused when Miss May described him as a “sloppy guy who always wore a black hat.”

  “That’s not my Johnny,” said Ethel. “He’s got beautiful hair. Never wears a hat. And he’s a good dresser. Always shows up looking like a car salesman from a luxury auto dealership. Nice sweater and khakis. Like he’s going to church.”

  “Good for you,” said Petunia. “You have a well-dressed nephew. What an accomplishment. I didn’t know you were getting these weekly visits, by the way. I thought we told each other everything.”

  “I have a private life,” said Ethel. “I don’t announce all my visitors to everyone in the villages like you do. You’re usually at the early bird special on Thursdays at five in the cafeteria. I skip the early bird that day to spend time with Johnny. He brings me dinner, anyway. Fried chicken, macaroni and cheese, pizza, whatever I want.”

  “That’s wonderful that you have such a devoted nephew,” I said. “Has he always been such a big part of your life?”

  “I didn’t see him for years. Then he moved back to the area and started visiting me. He comes by, we eat, we talk. It’s wonderful. And every week I give him a little more of his inheritance. Why wait if he can enjoy it now?”

  I exchanged a concerned look with Teeny and Miss May. Then I looked back at Ethel. “Your nephew… Did he come by last week?”

  Ethel scratched her head. “I don’t think he did. Sure hope he’s OK.”

  30

  Rainy Realizations

  We emerged from Ethel’s apartment to find that it was pouring rain. The rain was fitting. Realizing that Todd had scammed poor Ethel out of her money was depressing. I tried to go through life thinking the best of people. Maybe that was strange, since I’d met so many cold-blooded killers but still, it had always been my perspective on humanity… Everyone is good, at heart. I’d wanted to find something redemptive about Todd, too. But as it turned out, Todd was more of a slime-ball than I’d suspected. Todd had loose morals and, in many ways, it didn’t surprise me that someone had killed him.

  The question was, who?

  I climbed into my pickup truck alongside Teeny and Miss May. I turned the key and blasted the heat because the rain had brought a cold front with it. Miss May rubbed her hands together for warmth. “OK. So this Todd guy was a bad person. Worse than we thought.”

  “That’s what I’ve been thinking,” I said. “Ethel is so sweet. But it’s pretty clear Todd pretended to be her nephew to leech some money out of her. Who knows how much he stole over the course of his visits?”

  Teeny poked her head up. “Could be a lot. Ethel worked in finance in her younger years. She was a big deal in banking. That’s probably why Todd targeted her. Man, that guy
was such a human dog toy.”

  I bit my lip. “I suppose it’s possible we’re mistaken. I mean, we are jumping to conclusions here. Yes, Todd’s planner indicated that he came to Washington Villages every Thursday at 5 PM. And yes, the only consistent visitor to the villages at that time was this person ‘Johnny Smith,’ to whom Ethel refers as her nephew. But that doesn’t necessarily mean Todd was posing as said nephew and stealing from Ethel.”

  Miss May nodded. “You’re right. There could be another explanation for this. We’ve learned not to make assumptions in our investigations. But it’s smart to develop a theory and then pursue that theory. So let’s do that.”

  “My theory is that Todd pretended to be Ethel’s nephew and stole all her money,” said Teeny. “How about the two of you?”

  “Seems like a good theory,” I said. Miss May agreed.

  “But we need to confirm the theory,” said Teeny. “So how are we going to do that?”

  I made eye contact with Teeny in the rearview mirror. “We’re going to find the real Johnny.”

  Teeny’s eyes widened. “Of course. The real Johnny will know if he’s been visiting Ethel every Thursday at 5 PM. That’s a great idea.”

  “I think so too,” said Miss May. “But we need to be careful. Because if Todd was posing as Johnny and stealing Ethel’s money… It’s possible the real Johnny found out, got angry, and killed Todd.”

  I put a hand to my forehead. Of course! How had I not seen it? This whole potential Ethel scandal clearly pointed to the real Johnny as a new suspect in our case. The fact that Todd might have taken advantage of Ethel angered me, and I wasn’t even related to Ethel. I could only imagine how angry the real Johnny might have been if he had found out.

  “We can’t go over there now, can we?” I asked.

  Miss May shook her head. “Way too suspicious, especially considering that we might be headed straight to the murderer. I say we go first thing in the morning.”

  “How are we going to find out where Johnny lives?” Teeny asked.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Miss May said. “We’ll drop you off at home, and I’ll handle finding Johnny Smith’s address.”

  Teeny pouted. “May. I want to know your secrets.”

  Miss May smiled. “It’s more obvious than you might think.”

  When we got home, Miss May pulled the kitchen footstool over to the cabinet, climbed on top and hauled a giant, yellow book from a hard to reach cabinet. She slammed the book down on the kitchen table with a sigh and motioned for me to come close.

  I squinted in disbelief. “Is that the phone book?”

  Miss May’s eyes shone with mischievous self-satisfaction. “Yes. Ethel Smith and her family have lived in this general area for as long as I can remember. This phonebook is probably twenty years old, but I’d bet my bottom dollar that it has a good address for the Smiths. If we can find Johnny’s parents, we can find Johnny.”

  “That’s way more obvious than whatever Teeny was thinking,” I said. “I like it.”

  Miss May flipped the book open and scanned the ‘S’ section until she found Smith. “Here we go. Here’s Ethel. And right below her are Jack and Susan Smith. Jack must be Johnny’s dad.”

  I turned to Miss May. “So tomorrow morning we start there?”

  Miss May nodded. “We start there.”

  The next morning, Miss May, Teeny, and I made the fifteen minute drive to Blue Mountain, New York, where we found the home of Jack and Susan Smith nestled down a private, wooded drive. The home was built in the style of a 1970’s ski chalet. It had a slanted roof, big windows and gorgeous evergreens out front.

  A tiny, bald man, at least in his eighties, answered the door. He looked at the three of us like we were aliens. “Who are you? It’s not Christmas, is it? The three of you look like you’re about to start caroling. I don’t like carols. Those songs are boring. And I don’t have any money.”

  Miss May smiled. “Hi, Jack. No, it’s not Christmas. My name is—”

  “I know it’s not Christmas, lady. What’s wrong with you? I’m just saying the three of you look like you’re about to burst into song. I don’t want you singing. So no singing.”

  I leaned forward. “Good morning, sir. Don’t worry. I can’t sing. So you don’t have to worry about that.”

  “That’s not true,” said Teeny. “I think you have a beautiful singing voice.”

  “You’ve never heard me sing,” I said.

  “Well, you have a beautiful talking voice. And sometimes you sing along to the radio, quietly but with obvious passion. And that’s all you need.”

  “I don’t care if this one can sing or not! What do you want?” the man grumbled.

  “We’re looking for Johnny Smith,” I said. “He’s uh, he’s your son, right?”

  “Johnny’s in Japan. He works for the Bank of Japan, over there. He’s a big-shot. He makes a lot of money but he never visits. What’s the money for if you don’t spend it on plane tickets?”

  Miss May adjusted her glasses. “Hold on. How long has Johnny been in Japan?”

  Jack shrugged. “An eternity? Too long? I don’t know, quite a while. Never calls, never writes…”

  Miss May took a deep breath and exhale. “I see.”

  “Why are you asking about Johnny?”

  I glanced at Miss May and she looked back at me. We were at an interesting crossroads we hadn’t discussed.

  Should we tell this man we suspected Todd had pilfered Ethel’s money? Or should we wait until we had conclusive evidence then fix the problem later?

  Clearly neither of us knew what to say, because neither of us spoke. Fortunately, Teeny handled the situation for us.

  “Chelsea here is in love with Johnny. She wanted to confess her undying love to your son in person. This was the only address we could find for him. She’s loved him her whole life but they fell out of touch. They shared a magical dance together in middle school. They didn’t kiss but they held hands. Rubbed shoulders. She says it’s the purest love she’s ever felt. But he’s in Japan now and probably wants nothing to do with her. Sorry for bothering you.”

  I blushed. Thanks for painting such a rosy picture of my love life, I thought. Why did I have to be rejected by my fictional crush? And why did I feel disappointed Johnny wasn’t home? Could he have really been my one true love? I supposed not, seeing as how we had never actually met. But you never know. That could have been our moment.

  “That’s an extreme story,” said Jack. “Beautiful, in a way. Like how all tragedies have shades of beauty. My Johnny has a magnetic personality, doesn’t he? But he’s always been on the go. Never wanted to slow down enough to settle in with a good woman or start a family. You say you love him?” Jack leaned in and looked at me. “I think he might like you if he saw a picture or something.”

  I held up my hands. “Oh no. No need to send a picture. I don’t—”

  “Don’t be silly. This is romantic. I can do better than a picture.” The man held up his phone and dialed Johnny on FaceTime. Seconds later, the screen showed a live feed of a handsome, thirty-something man in a crisp business suit. I couldn’t help it, I got a little nervous at the sight of my fictional soulmate.

  “Dad?” the man asked, clearly confused. “What’s going on? Who are these people?”

  “This young lady wants to profess her undying love to you, Johnny. Do you have five minutes?”

  “I don’t know her. I’m at work.”

  “You’re always working. Give it a breather, kid! You need to slow down and think about your life. This girl is kind of good-looking, in a small town way. Seems smart. Clean hair. Give her a chance.”

  “She’s beautiful,” said Miss May. “And honestly, not to break your son’s heart but, uh, I think we had the wrong Johnny. So sorry. Have a nice day.”

  With that, Miss May pulled me and Teeny away and ushered us back to where we had parked the pickup truck. Teeny and Miss May cracked up laughing as they climbed into the truck. I w
asn’t feeling quite as jolly. Maybe that was because I was kind of the butt of the joke, and the face of it too, for that matter. But beyond that, the recent revelation about Johnny was disconcerting. If the real Johnny has been in Japan for an eternity, as his dad had suggested, Todd was almost definitely scamming Ethel.

  I felt bad for Ethel. And I burned to solve that murder.

  31

  Hungry Hungry Sumo

  We went to Grandma’s restaurant the next morning for breakfast. By the time we arrived, Teeny had stacked our reserved booth with enough food to feed all the lions at the Bronx Zoo. There were two super stacks of pancakes, what appeared to be a dozen eggs with cheese, lots of toast with butter and jam, syrup, a separate tray of hashbrowns and a wide variety of breakfast meats. Miss May slowed as we approached the table.

  “I don’t think we should sit down yet,” my aunt said, surveying the feast. “Maybe Teeny had to give our table away this morning.”

  “To whom?” I asked. “A trio of sumo wrestlers who’ve been trapped on a desert island, starving for a month?”

  Miss May chuckled. “How did sumo wrestlers get trapped on a desert island?”

  “Good question,” I said. “They were traveling for their…sumo match? By boat? I don’t know. I’m also wondering what exactly is a desert island? Not sure where humanity came up with that one.”

  Miss May laughed. “You mean a deserted island.”

  I pointed at Miss May. “Right. It’s a deserted island. Why does everybody say desert? Anyway…those poor sumo boys haven’t been able to eat a real meal in months. And then they came straight to Grandma’s restaurant this morning so she could feed them all the food in the kitchen.”

  Teeny approached with her arms spread in a welcoming gesture. “Ladies. I see you found your way to your table. Please, sit. I took the liberty of preparing you both one of my brand-new, signature ‘Hungry Girl’ breakfasts. Enough food to feed even the hungriest girl.”