Berried Alive Read online

  Hank, early 60’s, was tan and bowling-ball-bald. His custom suit strangled his biceps like a python eating a donkey. He grinned as he addressed the crowd.

  “You people can moan and groan as much as you want. See the name on that building? Rosenberg. I own it and I can tear it down if I so choose. I’m the golden goose. I lay the golden eggs. All you people, you lay regular eggs. Good for breakfast, maybe. But only worth their weight in eggs.”

  Arthur, the short and compact owner of the Pine Grove gas station, shoved his way through the crowd like a bulldozer. “Ingrate! Coward! You need approval to do something like this. It doesn’t matter who owns the building.”

  “And I have approval,” Rosenberg said. “From the mayor. See, me and Linda Delgado? We go way back. Back to the track. Going, going, going gone. End of story.”

  “Stop talking like that,” Arthur said. “Pine Grove is too small for a Massive Mart. You bring something like that here? You’ll ruin this town forever.”

  “Want to know what I think, brother? I think I ‘m going to need bigger pants after I shove all this new money in my pockets. And I think you’re going to thank me for bringing so many jobs to this community.”

  Teeny pushed her way to the front of the line. “Why are you shoving the money in your pockets? Why don’t you get a bank account? You’re a crook, that’s why!”

  “The bank account doesn’t matter, Teeny,” Arthur said. “What matters is that we already have jobs in this town. We have a florist. And a pizzeria. And a butcher shop. All locally owned. Like they should be. Heck! Right here in this complex we have Big Dan, the best mechanic in all the land. And Master Skinner. His dojo is always packed with karate kids!”

  “Get over it, man!” Rosenberg laughed. “You say this town doesn’t need a Massive Mart? You say your businesses are successful? Why aren’t there more people here to protest? I don’t see any ‘Master Skinner’ here. Do you? And what about this Big Dan clown? He’s not here.”

  “It’s Sunday,” Arthur said. “Most businesses in Pine Grove are closed Sundays. And that’s exactly the kind of small-town atmosphere we’re trying to protect.”

  “That ‘small town atmosphere’ is the enemy of capitalism, you fool!” Hank snorted. “My Massive Mart will be open 365 days a year. Including Christmas! Especially Christmas! And it will be the biggest, most beautiful structure this town has ever seen. Imagine it with me... On this very ground will soon be erected the most magnificent shopping mecca in the history of time. Four stories of cinderblock and steel. Three hundred parking spaces illuminated by the brightest lights allowable by law. And inside? A single location where shoppers can procure everything from frozen Tilapia, to tires, to ninety-six rolls of toilet paper in one fell swoop.”

  “My goodness that is too much TP,” the old woman from the Brown Cow whispered to me.

  “What kind of animal needs ninety-six rolls of toilet paper?” Arthur turned to the rest of the crowd. “If he brings that place here, we’re going to lose our local businesses! We’re going to lose our homes. And Pine Grove as we know it will be a thing of the past!”

  “This conversation is about to be a thing of the past, sir,” Rosenberg said. “I’m building the world’s biggest swimming pool in New Jersey today. Need to get over there. Tore down an elementary school and a hospital to make space for the pool. It’s going to be glorious. Beautiful. The best swimming pool you’ve ever imagined. You can take a dip there, if you say you’re sorry first.”

  “You can’t do this,” Teeny said.

  Rosenberg shrugged. “This old building comes down in three days. Please direct any further questions you may have to my associate, Sudeer. He’s a Pine Grove resident, if you didn’t know that already. So at least one person here thinks I’m a genius. Bye now.”

  Rosenberg climbed into a luxury electric car and hummed away in silence. As soon as he left, every eyeball in the crowd turned to Rosenberg’s slight and kindly associate, Sudeer Patel.

  Arthur and the others erupted with questions. Sudeer held up his hand to silence the crowd but the protestors only got louder.

  The old woman from the Brown Cow kept whispering to me as chaos erupted around us. She lamented the state of commercialism in America, the greed of people like Rosenberg, and the wastefulness of paper products. She talked and talked, about how she was so glad she got to visit Pine Grove before the Massive Mart ruined it and how society was spiraling downward. Or something like that. OK, I didn’t catch a hundred percent of what the old woman said. She talked a lot, and I was distracted by the shouting and contention around me.

  After about thirty seconds of utter mayhem in the crowd, Miss May nudged Sudeer aside. She grabbed a nearby milk crate and climbed on top.

  “Everybody be quiet!”

  Zip. Silence.

  “Thank you. Goodness! This is not how we handle our problems in Pine Grove. Arthur. Teeny. You know that. Have we ever done things this way?”

  Arthur and Teeny cast their eyes downward.

  “I didn’t think so,” Miss May said. “Now. We’re all together on this. So we’re going to form a united front. Sudeer, is it true Rosenberg is not going to tear the building down for another three days?”

  Sudeer nodded.

  “Good. Tomorrow night we’ve got an open town hall meeting. Just like every Monday night. Let’s get organized. Our first step is to convince the mayor that this is a bad idea. If that doesn’t work, we’re going to keep protesting and we’re going to make noise. Liz: do you have contacts in national news?”

  Liz, the editor and only reporter of the Pine Grove Gazette, stepped forward. “I went to graduate school with someone who is now the editor of a major national newspaper. He’s been following the work I do in the Gazette and he often sends me texts about my great and important work. The man loves a good story. If I give him the scent of this stinky fish? He’ll run with it.”

  “I don’t understand what that means,” Teeny said. “Can you get national news to pick this up or not?”

  “I can and I will.” Liz said, standing tall.

  “Good.” Miss May turned back to the crowd. “Now for the rest of you. Throughout all of this, let’s impress ourselves. We must remain civil. And peaceful. And please, can we stop attacking Sudeer?”

  “But he’s supposed to be one of us,” Arthur said. “And he didn’t even tell us about this plan. We had to find out about it on Rosenberg’s website.”

  “Sudeer has three little mouths to feed,” Miss May said. “No one can fault him for doing his job.”

  Sudeer sighed. “Actually, baby number four is on the way.”

  I cringed. That’s a lot of dirty diapers...

  “Hear that?” Miss May said. “This man is about to be a father of four. And he’s already exhausted. The dark circles under his eyes have dark circles of their own. Cut him a break.”

  “Thanks,” Sudeer said. “I think.”

  Miss May patted Sudeer on the back. “Congratulations.”

  Sudeer mustered a meek smile. It looked like the effort might make him faint.

  Miss May turned back to the crowd. “So I’ll see all of you at the town hall meeting tomorrow night?”

  The members of the no-longer-angry mob nodded.

  “Good.” Miss May turned to Sudeer. “Tell your boss he better come ready for a fight.”

  3

  Third Turtle

  MISS MAY AND I SPENT much of the rest of the day back at the Brown Cow, talking over the plan for the next night’s town hall meeting with other members of the community.

  The afternoon could have been stressful or disheartening, but it wasn’t. Drinking hot cocoa at my favorite coffee shop, surrounded by the impassioned citizens of Pine Grove, I felt happy and at home. Everyone cared so much about preserving the integrity of our town, the scene almost moved me to tears. Of course, I had also recently been moved to tears by a sentimental commercial for liquid cheese, so...grain of salt.

  Miss May and I did
n’t head home for the night until 9 PM. My head hung heavy as she drove up Whitehill Road. But I jolted awake as we pulled up to the farmhouse.

  A strange man sat on our front steps, holding something behind his back. I reached out and took Miss May’s arm. We had found one-to-three too many dead bodies that year to trust strangers in the dark.

  “You know that guy?” I asked.

  Miss May shook her head. “Nope.”

  She trapped the man in the van’s headlights and parked the car facing the house. He looked to be in his twenties. Clean-cut. Wearing blue jeans, a denim jacket, and stiff cowboy boots.

  “What’s he got behind his back?” I asked.

  Miss May rolled down the window. “Stay right where you are! Don’t move.”

  The man stood up, keeping one hand behind his back. He had high cheekbones and a bit of reddish-blonde hair poking out from under his hat. And his long, thin frame cast an eerie shadow onto the house behind him.

  The man walked toward us.

  Miss May honked her horn, long and loud.

  The man stopped walking.

  She called back out the window. “Put your hands where we can see them.”

  The man’s eyes widened. He shifted slightly but didn’t lift his hands. Miss May and I held our collective breath.

  “Hands above your head!” Miss May’s voice shook.

  The man slowly pulled his hand out from behind his back and we saw that he was holding...

  ...an enormous bouquet of tulips and lilies.

  I laughed. “Flowers? What the heck?”

  Miss May sighed, relieved. “Come on. Let’s go see what he wants.”

  The man took off his hat and bowed as we approached. “Greetings! I take it from the way you refused to emerge from your vehicle and called out in a threatening tone that my presence gave you a start. Please, allow me to apologize. I’m a gentle creature. Known by many for my warm singing voice and kind demeanor. I mean you no harm. In fact, I’m here to thank you.”

  The man handed Miss May the flowers, then shook her hand. “My name is Germany Turtle, of the Manhattan Turtles. My parents are the recently deceased Reginald and Linda Turtle, and my uncle is the recently disgraced Dennis Turtle. The two of you, through cunning and genius, apprehended my parents’ killer and the dastardly accomplice, and brought them both to justice. I owe you both a deep gratitude. Deeper than the deepest depths of the Mariana Trench. Deeper than the yawning trap of a lion. If you’re wondering about that reference, I should explain. I have spent the greater part of the last two years studying lions in Africa. I bonded with them and came to understand myself in ways unimaginable.”

  “Your parents mentioned that,” I said.

  Germany Turtle swiveled to me. His hazel eyes crinkled at the corners as he looked at me. Something about the intensity of his gaze sent my stomach into a loop. His voice shifted when he spoke again, like he was meeting his idol. “And you must be the beautiful, inevitable, Chelsea Thomas. I recognize your gorgeousness from the newspaper articles I’ve read and re-read about you and your aunt. It is from those very same articles that I recognize your pleasing snark, charm, and wit.”

  I stammered and looked over at Miss May. She grinned. “Chelsea is gorgeous, isn’t she?”

  Germany remained focused on me. “I’m sorry. I’ve embarrassed you. For much of my life I worked to get into the habit of dispensing compliments with an easy manner. I forget that sometimes the recipients of my compliments are not ready to accept the genuine praises I want to share. More often than I care to admit, recipients stammer or blush at my remarks. You, Chelsea, are both blushing and stammering now. I take it to mean, therefore, that my compliment struck a chord deep in your heart. But also that you might be uncomfortable.”

  Miss May laughed. “You’re an astute observer of the human condition, Germany.”

  “Nothing compared to you, Miss May. May I call you that?”

  “You can call me anything,” Miss May said.

  Germany smiled.

  “Thank you,” I said. “You’re very sweet.”

  “Thank you,” said Germany, “for solving the case of the murdered Manhattan Turtles.”

  In a flourish, Germany reached into a nearby bush and produced an enormous gift basket. A big, cuddly teddy bear sat in the center of the basket, surrounded by several boxes of exquisite chocolates, flowers, and other candies.

  He handed me the basket with the deferential bow of the head. “This is for you, Miss Thomas.”

  I took the basket, and felt my heart thudding a little louder in my chest. Flattery spiked my pulse, I guess. Yeah, that was it.

  “Wow, Germany,” Miss May said. “That gift basket is elaborate, even for someone who did solve the case of your parents’ death.”

  “I must admit, I have fallen head over heels in love with Chelsea, through reading the newspaper articles about her and gazing at the photos of her Venusian form and flowing blond locks. I hope that doesn’t make you feel uncomfortable, Chelsea. I am an open person. My parents, as you may have noticed through your dealings with them, had struggles with marital communication. Beyond that, they struggled to connect with other people. Simply put, they despised most people. My act of teenage rebellion was to find good in others. Perhaps that is my natural tendency, and I refused to let Linda and Reginald strangle it from my being. Who can say what prevails in the matter of nature versus nurture? I can tell you, with the lions it is impossible to decipher. No matter. All that is to say, I find that other people are the purest source of joy and beauty in this world and that, of all those billions of sources on the Planet Earth, you are the most pure. For me.”

  “OK. Wow. That’s a lot to take in,” I said.

  Having spent the better part of the last year orbiting the stoic and hard-to-read — but very attractive — Detective Wayne Hudson, Germany’s outpouring of affection was a refreshing, if not bizarre, change of pace. The young Turtle must have read my mind because at that moment, he changed the topic of conversation to Wayne.

  “Now, I hope I’m not out of place in declaring my affections. I detected in the newspaper articles that you might be in the beginning stages of a will they/won’t they relationship with a large detective. But I did not gather that you are officially entwined, romantically speaking. Therefore, I decided there was no impropriety in my coming here. If I’m incorrect, please inform me. Are you in a relationship with the large detective?”

  “She’s not,” Miss May said.

  I shot my aunt a filthy look.

  “What?” Miss May said. “You’re not.”

  “We’re not official,” I conceded. “But you’re right. We are in the beginning stages of a relationship.”

  Germany Turtle nodded and processed the information. After a few seconds, he looked up, eyes as bright as ever. “Well, I just moved into my parents’ house in Pine Grove. So I will be here, pursuing you, for the foreseeable future. From what I’ve heard, the large detective has been out of town for quite a few months.”

  I shifted uneasily. “He’s the star witness in a big trial in New York City.”

  “I see,” Germany nodded. “Not quite the makings of an ideal mate. Being gone for so long.”

  “If you witness something and have to testify it doesn’t make you a bad boyfriend,” I said.

  “But he’s not your boyfriend so it doesn’t matter anyway, right?” Germany looked hopeful.

  Miss May cracked up laughing. “This kid is sharp!”

  “Thank you, Miss May,” Germany beamed. “I’ve received a fine education by all accounts, but according to most tests I am of average intelligence.”

  Miss May laughed even harder. She clearly loved Germany but that made me hate him, just a little. Although he did look cute in that cowboy getup.

  “What’s with the denim and the boots and stuff?” I asked.

  “Yes. I was hoping you wouldn’t ask. In what I see now is a misguided attempt to fit in with the suburban culture here in Pine Gr
ove, I donned this denim attire and wore a cowboy hat. Next time you see me, I shall dress in my typical garb. I don’t feel comfortable like this, not in my body and not in my mind. More importantly, no one here dresses this way. I was so off-base in my estimation of the vibe in your burg. Did I mention my average intelligence?”

  “I don’t think it looks that bad,” I said.

  “So are you interested in me, romantically?” Germany smiled.

  I laughed. “I didn’t say that.”

  “Right. Your heart is hovering around the large detective. Well, if he ever makes his way back to town... Tell him he’s no longer your only suitor.”

  I stammered, hunting for the right words with which to defend Wayne. Miss May, on the other hand, had her words at the ready.

  “If she doesn’t tell him, I will,” Miss May said. “Thanks for the flowers. And the candy.”

  Once inside the house, in the protected nest of my childhood bedroom, my mind raced with thoughts of Wayne. He had been uncommunicative the past months. But that was because he was a witness on a big case, not by choice. But still...I felt a widening distance between me and Wayne. And Germany’s sudden interest made me wish Wayne were more available. As though I had made that wish on a shooting star, my phone pinged with a voicemail. From Wayne.

  “Hey Chelsea,” the voicemail began. “It’s Wayne. Uh. Detective Hudson. I’ve been busy but I’m thinking about you. It looks like this jury is ready to decide. Should be back in town in a day or two. Call me back?”

  I returned Wayne’s call. No answer.

  Then my eye drifted to Germany’s gift basket, waiting under the spotlight of my desk lamp. I grabbed a few chocolates and snuggled under the covers with my worn-down copy of “And Then There Were None,” by Agatha Christie.

  Even though I knew the ending, the book was riveting. And oh my goodness those were the best chocolates I’d ever had.

  In fact, the book and the chocolates had something in common. I ate one chocolate, then another, then another, then a few more.

  And then there were none.