by Kate Bell
I grinned. “That sounds like a plan to me.”
***
When Ethan pulled into the Pizza Town parking lot, it was nearly empty. It was just after seven in the evening and I wondered if Sundays weren’t a very busy night for pizza.
We headed into the restaurant and spotted Frank wiping down tables. He wore a green apron around his waist and sprayed the tabletop with a clear solution from the spray bottle in his hand. We went to him and sat down at the table he was cleaning.
“Hi Frank,” Ethan said. “How are you doing?”
“Hi Ethan, Mia,” Frank said, looking at us questioningly. “I’m almost finished cleaning this table, but there are a few others that are already clean.”
“Actually, Frank, we came to speak to you,” Ethan said. “Can you sit down for a minute?”
Frank looked over his shoulder, but he was the only employee in the dining room. A couple tables on the far side of the room were occupied with customers, but they were out of earshot. He sat down across from Ethan and me. “Sure, I guess so. I didn’t get to take my break earlier, anyway. What’s up?”
“Did you hear about what happened at the haunted house?” Ethan asked.
Frank’s eyes went wide, then he quickly shook his head. “No, I haven’t heard a thing. I’ve been here working all weekend.” Frank had black hair and brown eyes with a tattoo of a fiery demon on his left forearm. Frank was two years behind Ethan and me in school and we knew him well enough to say hello but not much more.
“There was a murder there, and we heard you worked there until very recently,” Ethan said. “Do you keep in touch with any of your former co-workers?”
I studied Frank’s face, trying to pick up on anything that hinted at his guilt.
Frank stared at Ethan for a moment and then he started laughing. “I guess that won’t set well with Charlie McGrath, will it? I can just see that little red-faced runt getting hopping mad over someone having the nerve to die in his haunted house.”
“We wondered if you knew anything about it,” Ethan said, folding his hands together on the table in front of him. “We also wondered if you knew anything about the graffiti sprayed on the wall behind the caveman exhibit?”
Frank stopped laughing and his face went pale. “How would I know anything about a murder or graffiti? I don’t talk to anyone down there. They’re all a bunch of losers. Everyone was afraid of losing their job so they were always stabbing each other in the back to make themselves look good to Charlie. Me, I didn’t care what that runt thought of me. If you want to know the truth, it wouldn’t surprise me if Charlie did it himself. Who was killed?” he asked, slouching down in the seat across from us.
“Greg Richardson,” Ethan said. “What happened with your job down at the haunted house? Why don’t you work there anymore?”
Frank narrowed his eyes at Ethan. “That idiot fired me. I tell you what, I did a good job there. I worked hard. But he didn’t like me and neither did some of the other actors. They were jealous. Some people have a problem with people who work harder than they do. It makes them look bad.”
“What kind of work did you do there?” I asked. In my mind all the actors did was hang out and try to scare people. It seemed like a pretty easy job and Frank was saying he worked harder than the others. I just couldn’t see how.
“It’s more than just jumping out at people, you know? Charlie was always having us cleaning and knocking down cobwebs. I mean, what was he thinking? It’s a haunted house! Of course, there’s going to be spider webs and dust. I told him he needed to leave it all for ambiance. He just got mad and told me to get to work,” he said, shaking his head. “That guy is a piece of work. It’s a shame it wasn’t him that ended up dead.”
I flinched at his words. He had a lot of guts saying that to a cop.
“Maybe he was afraid leaving the spider webs up would encourage poisonous spiders to take up residence in the haunted house,” I pointed out.
He rolled his eyes. “Whatever. I told him over and over that cleaning was useless. And then he would criticize the way I played Dracula. I mean, come on, it was Dracula! I stood there and told people I wanted to suck their blood. I flipped my cape around at people. What else was I supposed to do?”
“Did you ask him what else he wanted you to do?” Ethan asked, scribbling in his notebook.
I had often thought I would like to take a job at the haunted house. I could be a zombie ballerina or something. All I would have to do was put makeup on and a torn ballerina costume and groan. How much easier could it get? Frank was making it sound like it was a hard job.
“Yeah, he said I needed to improvise more. He said I was an actor so I should act. But I was already doing that, so what else was I supposed to do?”
“You know,” Ethan said, “I did a little research, and it seems you have a record for vandalism. You spray painted graffiti on the walls at the high school when you weren’t allowed to graduate because you didn’t have enough credits."
Frank gripped the edge of the table. “That was a setup. I had all my credits, but Mrs. Livingston said I failed a history test. I didn’t fail it. She just never liked me!”
Ethan shrugged. “I don’t really care if you failed a history test or not. You vandalized the high school and were arrested for it, then you did it again six months later. That’s a history of vandalism if you ask me.”
“Look, I was a kid then. I did stupid things like all kids do. Don’t make this into something it isn’t.”
“All kids don’t commit crimes,” I pointed out. “Why did you do it the second time?”
“Because I couldn’t get a job without a high school diploma. It made me mad, so one night after having a couple of beers, I stopped by and left my calling card. Again.” He sat back and grinned proudly.
“You have a little trouble with letting things go, don’t you?” I asked him.
The grin left his face. “I can let things go just fine. I didn’t spray graffiti at the haunted house, and I sure didn’t kill anyone.”
“Did you know Greg Richardson?” Ethan asked.
He narrowed his eyes at Ethan for a moment, then relaxed. “I worked for him last year cleaning up properties after his tenants moved out. He was a cheapskate. You can’t believe the mess some people leave behind and he expected me to clean up after them for minimum wage.” He snorted. “I don’t know who killed him, but he had it coming.”
“Don’t tell me,” Ethan said. “You got fired unfairly from that job, too?”
“It was unfair. No one should have to do that kind of work for practically nothing. I took pictures of the messes left behind just in case I needed to take him to court. I was still thinking about doing that, but I guess that ship has sailed.”
Ethan shook his head. “You got hired for a job and you knew what it paid before you took it. Most people do the job or look for something else.”
He rolled his eyes. “Whatever. I don’t expect a rich kid like you to understand. You’ve had it easy all your life.”
I was shocked he would say that to Ethan’s face. Ethan did come from an upper middle-class family, but he didn’t have it easy. He’d worked ever since he was old enough. His family had expected him to go to college and become a lawyer, but he had chosen law enforcement. A police officer’s job was anything but cushy.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ethan said. “Where were you Friday night and Saturday morning?”
“I was right here. Working. Just like I always am. See, some people know the value of hard work, and that’s me.”
“Your boss will vouch for you?” Ethan asked.
Frank nodded and his eyes went to an older woman that had just appeared from the kitchen. “Hey, uh, Alice, can you come over here for a minute?” Frank called to the woman.
The woman’s eyes went wide, and she hesitated, then walked toward us. Her graying hair was pulled up in a bun and it was covered in a hairnet. She smiled at us and then turned to Frank. �
�Yes, Frank?”
“This officer would like to know if I was here at work Friday night and Saturday morning. I told him I was here,” Frank said.
She smiled and nodded at Ethan. “Yes, Frank was here until late. We stay open until midnight Friday and Saturday. Friday night we stayed later to do some extra cleaning. Saturday morning we came in early to finish. We’ve been so busy since the Halloween season started.” Her eyes went to Frank as if seeking his approval and it made me wonder. She wore a plastic name badge that had her first name and the title of assistant manager beneath it.
“Can I get your name?” Ethan asked, making a note in his notebook.
“Alice Gomez. I’m the assistant manager here.” Her eyes went to frank again, and he gave her a very slight nod.
“Thank you, Alice,” Ethan said and took her phone number down.
Alice went back to the kitchen without another look behind her and I watched her go. There was something not quite right about what had just happened, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.
“If you want to know who I think did it, I think it was Evelyn McGrath,” Frank said. “That woman was a piece of work.”
“Why do you think she did it?” Ethan asked.
“Because she wanted a divorce from Charlie. She had Internet boyfriends. I know because she left her laptop unlocked in the haunted house office one day. I took a look. And she didn’t have just one boyfriend, she had three.”
“I don’t think having boyfriends is motive for someone else’s murder,” I pointed out.
“It is if you want to set your husband up and get him thrown in jail,” he said, leaning toward me. “Think about it. If he was framed for murder, he’d go to jail for life, maybe get the death penalty. And she’d be sitting pretty with his business and free to hang out with whoever she wanted.”
“Sounds like you’re really grasping at straws on that one,” Ethan said.
“You’re barking up the wrong tree if you think I had anything to do with a murder,” he growled.
“It’s still early in the investigation,” Ethan said with a shrug. “Someone mentioned you had been fired from the haunted house recently, so I came down here to see what you had to say about it.”
“Are you serious?” he asked, shaking his head. “I mean, a dead body shows up and people are telling you I got fired like there’s some kind of connection? Who brought my name up?”
“I really can’t go into details,” Ethan said. “I’m just following up leads, Frank. Of course, if we find out you are responsible for the graffiti down there, you know you’ll be the first to know, right?”
“Yeah, I bet I’ll be the first to know,” he muttered.
“Frank, do you still have a key to the haunted house?" I asked.
“I never had a key. Only Charlie’s favorites had keys. I’ve been working here six days straight without a day off, so you already know where I’ve been. My boss already vouched for me,” he said, narrowing his eyes at me.
“Fair enough, Frank,” Ethan said putting his hands on top of the table. “I’ll make a note of it that you have been at work for six days straight.”
“You do that. Make sure all those gossips at the haunted house know that, too. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got work to do.”
We watched as Frank got up, picked up his dishcloth and headed over to the other side of the dining room.
“What do you think?” I whispered to Ethan.
“We’ve still got a lot of work to do. I mean I’ve got a lot of work to do. Everything that you’ve heard and seen regarding this case is between the two of us.”
I nodded. “I completely understand. I wouldn’t want to get you into trouble on your very first day as detective.”
“That wouldn’t be a good thing,” Ethan said with a grin.
“I noticed Alice seemed to look to Frank for approval of what she was telling us. What do you make of that?”
He nodded. “I saw it too. Maybe she was just nervous talking to a cop. Some people are that way.”
“I think we should get dinner somewhere else. Frank’s kind of mad at us right now,” I pointed out.
He chuckled and nodded. “Not a bad idea.”
We left Pizza Town in search of something else for dinner. I decided for the next hour or so, I wouldn’t worry about how things were going in Pumpkin Hollow. The Halloween season was flashing before my eyes and I desperately wanted for things to turn around before it was too late. But for now, I was going to try to enjoy some time with Ethan.
Chapter Seven
The next day I was hanging out in Ethan’s new office. It wasn’t much bigger than a walk-in closet and the two desks, office chairs, and visitor’s chairs took up nearly the whole room. He had to share it with other officers when they needed a place to fill out their reports, but for the most part, it was Ethan’s. As I looked around, I considered bringing in some artwork to hang on the walls or some cute little desk accessories, but I wasn’t sure how he would take that.
I sat down in a visitor’s chair with a sigh. I had spent eight hours at the candy shop making fudge, taffy, bonbons, marshmallows, and pralines. My feet and my back ached.
“How do you like my new office?” he asked, sitting back in the black vinyl office chair behind one desk. The chair back had been repaired with black plumber’s tape.
“I think it’s awesome. A couple of pictures on the wall and a plant or two would really spruce things up,” I said.
Ethan narrowed his eyes at me. “I was going for the plain and simple look.”
I giggled. “Mission accomplished, then.”
He began to explain his new responsibilities to me, and I listened attentively. He was like a little kid that had been given a lollipop the size of his head. He was excited about this new job and I was excited for him.
“I really am happy for you Ethan,” I said when he stopped talking long enough to take a breath. “This is a great opportunity for you.”
“Thanks, I think so too.”
“So, has Greg Richardson’s family been notified?” I asked.
He nodded. “Veronica Richardson has been in Texas at a conference for her job since Tuesday. She was trying to get a flight back. I had to tell her what happened over the phone.”
“That’s a terrible way to find out something like that,” I said sadly.
Just as Ethan opened his mouth to say something else, the office door swung open. Veronica Richardson walked through the door, her eyes were red-rimmed and her mascara had smudged beneath her eyes. I knew Veronica from being a regular candy shop customer.
“Are you the detective in charge?” she asked, looking at Ethan.
“Yes ma’am, I am,” Ethan said standing up and extending his hand. “My name is Ethan Banks.”
She walked all the way into the office, which was only a few steps. “The officer at the front desk said this was your office.” She glanced at me and then returned her attention to Ethan. “I’m sorry, I barged in. I’m Veronica Richardson. My husband was Greg Richardson. I believe I spoke to you on the phone.” Her voice cracked slightly on her husband’s name.
I stood up, giving her the visitor’s chair in front of the desk and went around to Ethan’s side of the desk. There was an extra chair stuck back in the corner and I pushed it up a little so I was closer to the desk. I felt awkward, and I wondered if Ethan wanted me to leave the room, but since he hadn’t asked me to leave, I didn’t.
“Mrs. Richardson, I’m sorry for your loss,” Ethan said. “Please have a seat. This is Mia Jordan.” He didn’t bother saying what I was doing there, so I didn’t explain either.
“I know Veronica from the candy shop. She’s a very good customer,” I explained to Ethan and then turned to Veronica. “Please accept my condolences on your loss,” I said quietly. I didn’t know what else to say. I couldn’t imagine what she must be going through.
Veronica nodded and looked from me to Ethan. “I don’t know what I’m going to do. My husband
is gone and I don’t understand why. Do you know what happened?” she asked. Tears began streaming down her cheeks and she rummaged through her purse for a tissue.
“We’re still trying to put things together and figure out what happened,” Ethan said. “When was the last time you saw your husband, Mrs. Richardson?”
She shook her head and dabbed at her eyes with the crumpled tissue she had fished from her purse. “Call me Veronica. You said on the phone that there had been an accident at the haunted house. Exactly what happened?”
“He was stabbed. With a spear from one of the exhibitions.”
Her mouth dropped open, and she looked from Ethan to me and back. “I don’t understand how that could happen. Stabbed with a spear?”
“That’s what we’re still trying to figure out. Anything you can think of that might help, would be greatly appreciated,” Ethan said kindly.
She sniffled. “I tried calling my husband Saturday morning, but I couldn’t get ahold of him. I just assumed he was getting in some golf time. He loved golf and I could usually find him there when he wasn’t at work in his office.”
“Do you have any idea what he might have been doing at the haunted house?” Ethan asked.
She shook her head. “I have no idea. He never mentioned it to me.”
“I see,” Ethan said, taking this in. “Did he have a home office you could maybe take a look though? Maybe he had something on a computer?”
She shrugged and then nodded. “I can do that. He worked out of his home office. He has a laptop he was never without. None of this makes sense. I just don’t understand what happened.”
“What did he do for a living?” Ethan asked.
“He owns some rentals and had some investments. They kept him busy enough, I guess,” she said, staring at a spot on Ethan’s desk, lost in thought for a moment. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
“I’m sorry,” Ethan repeated. “Are there Files you can go through? Maybe he made notes about something that might be helpful.”
