“That sounds…I might call you. Thank you.”
Back out on the sidewalk, Miss May buried her head in her hands. Teeny and I threw back our heads and laughed.
“There must be something in the water lately,” I said. “Or you’re up to some sort of love witchery. Every man who sees you falls in love with you.”
Miss May stood tall, tossed her hair back, and charged off toward the convertible. Teeny and I followed behind, chuckling.
Fifteen minutes later, we pulled up to the address of Damien’s warehouse in Mott Haven. Mott Haven was a far cry from Arthur Avenue. There were no charming vendors or stores at all, really. The neighborhood was on the edge of the Bronx and was mostly abandoned warehouses or massive, unattractive apartment buildings.
Damien’s warehouse was two stories, made from ugly brown bricks. There were no cars in the parking lot and a “No Trespassing” sign dangled, lopsided on the front door.
Teeny looked at the building. “What is this place?”
“Whatever it is, it’s not good. I don’t have a good feeling.” I turned and looked around the parking lot. “We’re the only people here. And it doesn’t look like this warehouse has been operational since the 70’s.”
“That’s true for a lot of big, old buildings in the Bronx,” said Miss May. “Hipsters have revitalized so many communities in New York City, for better or worse. But they just won’t come to the Bronx. It’s a shame. In Brooklyn, buildings like this have been converted into luxury lofts or wedding halls.”
“The only people who would get married somewhere like this are Russian criminals,” said Teeny. “I know that for a fact because one time, on an episode of Jenna and Mr. Flowers, Russian criminals got married in a gross warehouse just like this.”
“That’s weird,” I said. “Why was your show following the love story between two Russian criminals?”
Teeny shrugged. “It was a weird season. They tried a lot of new stuff. But they bounced back the next year.”
Miss May took a step toward the building, then turned back to us. “Are we going inside or not?”
I gulped. “We can try. But it looks like the place might be locked.”
Miss May scrunched up her nose. “I’ve never seen a building that looked less locked than this. Half the windows are broken. I think the front door is ajar.”
I looked down. “Fine. You’re right. I guess I’m just not in the mood to be a guest at a Russian criminal wedding right now.”
Miss May nodded. “I know. But we’re here. So let’s get in and out as fast as we can. See what we can learn.”
As it turned out, the front door wasn’t locked…but it was rusty and so jammed that it wouldn’t budge an inch. Same with the side doors. So, you guessed it, I had to climb in through a broken window.
Before I climbed inside, I used an old piece of PVC I found on the ground to clear the shards of glass from the window pane. After that, it was a simple process. One leg, then the other, then I was standing on the ground floor. After I helped Miss May and Teeny climb inside, the three of us stood back and surveyed the scene.
There wasn’t much of a surprise inside the building. It was a giant, empty room. Sounds of dripping water echoed all around us. A pigeon fluttered and landed on a beam near the top of the ceiling. The concrete floor was cracked and the place smelled moldy. There was no sign of what the building might have been used for, but it could have been used for anything. Storage, auto work, maybe even weddings if any of those hipsters ever learned to love the Bronx.
“What now?” said Teeny. “It’s a big, empty room. If Damien was in here we’d see him, plain as buttered bread. Or we would have heard him making a run for it when we broke the window. This place is empty.”
“You’re right about that.” Miss May pointed across the room. “But someone or something might be through there.”
I looked over to where Miss May was pointing. There was a door along the far wall of the room. It was made of rusted steel and covered in strange, black stains. The door was wide open. Almost daring us to go inside.
“I won’t go over to that creepy door,” said Teeny. “You can’t make me.”
“Fine. You stay back here and keep a lookout. Chelsea and I will check out the door.”
“We will?” My voice caught in my throat. “It looks ominous.”
“What has gotten into the two of you? We’re investigating a murder here.”
Miss May’s stern tone reminded me of our mission. We didn’t have time to be scared or to worry about Russian criminals getting hitched. We had not yet caught the murderer. We were in that warehouse because he might be hiding inside or he might have left some evidence there. I shook the nerves out of my arms and gave Miss May a swift nod. “Right, yes. We’re here to look for Damien. So we should look…everywhere. Even behind that horrible, creepy, very disturbing door. I’ll lead the way.”
I crossed to the open door in twenty big, confident steps. Then I grabbed the handle, hesitated for just one second, and pulled the door all the way open. The door led to a small room that felt like a storage unit or an empty, industrial refrigerator.
Light spilled into the room from an open window in a single, concentrated beam. I stepped inside. Stubbed my toe on something. Looked down and shrieked.
There was a dead body in that little room. And I knew just who it was.
40
Deader than Dead
Trembling hands are weird.
That’s what I was thinking in the first moments after stubbing my toe on the corpse. It felt like someone had shocked me and all this shaky energy had come from nowhere. Even worse, I felt like I couldn’t trust my own hands. My fingers were so quaky I couldn’t have counted on them to sign my name or eat soup…or defend myself against a lurking attacker.
Footsteps thudded behind me.
I spun toward the sound and my quivering hand flew to my chest. I know karate, sure. But could I trust my fighting skills right on the heels of discovering a dead body? Or were my extremities shaking too much to keep me safe?
“Chelsea. It’s OK. It’s only me.” Miss May stepped into the light. “What’s going on?”
I pointed at the dead body on the ground. Miss May regarded it for several seconds, brows knit. She knelt down to get a better look at the victim. “It’s Amber. Todd’s daughter.”
“I know.” I leaned against the wall. “I don’t know what’s going on with me. I’m shaking like a leaf.”
“That’s OK. This took you by surprise. It’s normal. You’re having a normal reaction.”
I tried to steady myself. I felt the cold wall press against my skin. I took deep, intentional breaths. “I’ve discovered enough bodies by now. I don’t want my hands to shake like this. I want to take strong, decisive action. I just made up my mind not to be scared. Did my hands not listen to me?”
Miss May shook her head. “Even if your body doesn’t always listen to your brain, it doesn’t mean your brain isn’t doing the right thing. You seem strong to me.”
I took another deep breath. “Thank you. Should we investigate the scene?”
“Yeah,” said Miss May, “but first we should fill Teeny in on what’s going on here.”
Teeny’s little voice squeaked from near the doorway. “I’m already filled in.” She stepped into the room. “Poor kid got murdered in such a dump.”
“I don’t think it matters if you get murdered someplace fancy or someplace crummy,” I said. “Either way, you end up dead.”
Teeny shrugged. “I’d rather get murdered while taking a bath at the Grand Plaza Hotel in New York City. Did you find any clues in here?”
Miss May squatted down and took a closer look at Amber. “Poor girl. Loses her dad, then loses her life. It looks like she was hit in the back of the head with a blunt object. Taken by surprise and then left for dead.”
Turning, I scanned the room to try to locate the possible murder weapon. There were no large objects to be found. “Looks lik
e the murderer took their weapon home.”
“Creepy collector’s item,” said Teeny.
Miss May stood. “It’s probably already at the bottom of the Bronx River. What a dastardly murder, sneaking up on someone like this, hitting them from behind. The method of a coward.”
“If she came all the way down here by herself, that means Amber trusted who ever led her here,” I posited.
“Let’s just say it,” said Teeny. “The poor girl was killed by Damien Hamilton. He tricked her into meeting him in this old warehouse and then he murdered her with a big rock or something, like a caveman.”
“In that video it sounded like Todd was extorting Damien,” I said. “Remember? Todd knew something that could hurt Damien. He used that fact to get a good deal on the lease. What if Amber, Todd’s daughter, knew the same incriminating fact about Damien?”
“Then Damien would have killed Amber to keep her quiet,” Miss May said, “just like he killed her dad.”
“But why would Damien kill Amber in a building he owns?” I said. “This crime points right back to Damien. It’s too obvious.”
“I doubt it’s easy to find a good location to murder someone,” said Teeny. “The guy probably had to act fast so he decided to use this building. I bet his plan was to move the body after the murder. Then maybe he heard us coming or something and had to make a run for it and leave the body behind.”
My heart jumped to my throat. “Maybe he’s still in the building.”
Teeny and Miss May turned and looked out to the big, empty room into which we had entered. The flustered pigeon continued flapping its wings. But other than that the room was calm and peaceful. Until…
BAM!
Detective Wayne Hudson kicked open the front door, breaking the lock off the hinge, and charged into the warehouse. Chief Flanagan was one step behind him, hand on her gun holster. I expected more cops to follow but it was only the two of them.
“Whoever is in here come out with your hands up,” said Wayne. “Surrender yourself now.”
I looked over at Miss May and whispered. “What do we do now?”
41
Framework
Detective Wayne Hudson and Chief Sunshine Flanagan insisted on interviewing each of the three of us separately. I almost laughed at their obvious good cop, bad cop routine. Wayne was sweet and gentle. Flanagan was angry and impulsive. And she got a little territorial whenever Wayne stood too close to me.
They asked me all the normal questions. Why were we there? How long had we been there? How did we get inside?
I knew there was no point in lying so I told Wayne and Chief Flanagan the truth. I also reminded them that the warehouse was well out of the jurisdiction of the Pine Grove Police Department. So if they wanted to arrest me, or Miss May, or Teeny, they would need to call in the New York City cops. That would mean New York City cops would take over the murder investigation and complicate the Pine Grove’s efforts moving forward.
I thought I made good points about the cops. But when I was finished with my speech, Flanagan laughed in my face. “I’m not afraid of New York City cops. I worked in Brooklyn for years before I came to Pine Grove. I’ve already made a few calls. New York City police are going to let Pine Grove handle the investigation of Amber’s murder. People owe me favors. That’s the way it works when you’re a good cop who does honest work.”
“Whatever you say.” I didn’t roll my eyes, but I wanted to. Trading favors with NYC cops didn’t seem like the trademark of a ‘good cop who does honest work,’ to me. And Flanagan had far from proven herself in Pine Grove. But I bit my tongue because I didn’t want to spend the night in jail. I’d done it before, and I wasn’t a fan. KP liked the mashed potatoes they served in the slammer, but prison food wasn’t for me.
After over an hour, Flanagan and Wayne let me, Teeny and Miss May go free. Miss May and Teeny reported they’d had similar experiences getting questioned. They both resented Flanagan’s attitude toward us. And both Teeny and Miss May mentioned that Flanagan had a clear and desperate crush on Wayne.
Jealousy had never been my thing, so Flanagan’s crush on Wayne didn’t bother me. It was slightly perturbing that Flanagan was perfect and gorgeous in every single way. And I didn’t understand how her legs were longer than half my body. Or how her red hair always looked shiny and voluminous. And I hated the natural glow of her objectively perfect skin.
But other than that stuff, no big deal at all!
So I refused to let Miss May and Teeny bait me into a conversation where I identified Flanagan as a romantic rival. Instead, I kept the three of us focused on our investigation.
By the time Teeny pulled back onto the highway, we were deep in conversation about the investigation. At first, the three of us agreed that Damien seemed like the obvious killer. But then Miss May had second thoughts.
“Something’s off,” she said. “Sure, at first glance it seems like Damien killed Amber and Todd. But the more I think about it, the more I think…someone wanted us to find that body today. The way Amber was positioned…it was almost as if the scene had been staged. I think that person wanted us to pin the murders on Damien, too.”
“So you think Damien is being framed.” I said.
“I think so,” said Miss May. “And if I had to guess, I would surmise that whoever left that videotape might be our killer. Think about it. The tape led us to Damien. And our research on Damien led us here. It’s almost…like it was too easy.”
“Sorry to interrupt,” said Teeny. “But are you girls OK if I put up the top on the convertible? I’m freezing my face off. And I like my face.”
“Please,” I said. “I can’t feel my nose or my toes. I thought you were keeping it down because you wanted it down.”
“I was keeping it down ‘cuz I thought you girls wanted it down. You don’t get to ride in the convertible that much.”
“Put the top up,” said Miss May. “I’m begging you.”
“It’s so strange that neither of the two of you insisted that I put the top up before I mentioned it,” said Teeny. “Are you two feeling OK? You don’t usually keep your opinions to yourselves.”
“I guess we were too caught up in the investigation to notice,” I said.
“These are all good theories, that’s why,” said Teeny. “Want to know what I think?”
“Please,” said Miss May.
“I think Todd’s murder was designed to frame Damien and it failed. Yes, Todd was found dead in Damien’s store. But it wasn’t enough of a connection, so Damien kept living as a free man. The killer wasn’t happy with that. So they decided to frame Damien for a second murder. Whoever did this thinks that if both bodies are connected to buildings owned by Damien, then Damien will be arrested for the murders.”
“So you think the killer has a vendetta against Damien,” I said.
Teeny raised her eyebrows. “Vendetta. That’s the perfect word.”
“But if this killer hates Damien so much why haven’t they killed Damien already?” I asked. “The murderer clearly has no problem killing people. So why not skip the middle steps and kill the person they hate?”
“I think the murderer killed Todd because he, or she, hated Todd for some reason,” said Teeny. “Amber must have figured out the identity of the murderer. She was killed because the killer needed to protect their identity.”
“Still…why not kill Damien first?” I said.
“Sometimes you don’t want someone to die. You want them to rot in jail for the rest of their lives.” Teeny spoke with a dark undertone in her voice.
“Sounds like you’re speaking from experience,” I said.
“I’ve had a lot of husbands.”
“That theory makes sense to me,” said Miss May. “So we need to find someone who wanted Todd dead and Damien in jail.”
“Who hated both men enough for that?” I said.
“I can only think of one person who fits the bill,” Miss May said.
Teeny looked over at
Miss May. “Who?”
Miss May swallowed. “You’re not going to like it.”
42
Vacationer
“The girl said she was going away for vacation. Vacation implies a long stay. There’s no point in checking her house.” Teeny merged into the left lane and picked up speed.
“But we have to pass through Pine Grove on the way to the spa anyway,” said Miss May. “We might as well stop in. If Emily happens to be home, that could save us valuable time. It could save a life.”
“If Emily is, in fact, the killer,” I said, emphasizing the word if, “I still think that’s a long shot. She’s too sweet. I don’t see it.”
“There is such a thing as too sweet,” says Teeny with a sinister tone. “I once ate a whole jar of sprinkles in one sitting. At first it felt so good. I remember thinking to myself, ‘why don’t I do this more often?’ Pink sprinkles are a delicacy. Then the pain set in. And it was bad.”
“Pretty sure all sprinkles taste the same,” I said. “But go on.”
“All sprinkles do not taste the same.” Teeny glared at me in the rearview mirror. “Who’s the expert on sprinkles here?”
I gestured to Teeny. “You are. Sorry. Go on.”
“There I was, in my bubble bath, eating sprinkles…when something started to feel off. I was probably three quarters of the way through the jar by that point. But my heart was beating too fast. My palms were sweaty. I got a headache. It was terrible.”
No Cone Unturned (Apple Orchard Cozy Mystery Book 12) Page 19
