The Scarecrow Snuff Out

by Carolyn Ridder Aspenson

  The Scarecrow

  Snuff Out

  A Lily Sprayberry Realtor

  Halloween Novella

  A LILY SPRAYBERRY REALTOR COZY MYSTERY

  Carolyn Ridder Aspenson

  COPYRIGHT SEPTEMBER 2018

  CAROLYN RIDDER ASPENSON

  COPYRIGHT INFORMATION:

  This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 Unported License.

  Attribution — You must attribute the work in the manner specified by the author or licensor (but not in any way that suggests that they endorse you or your use of the work).

  Noncommercial — You may not use this work for commercial purposes.

  No Derivative Works — You may not alter, transform, or build upon this work.

  Cover Design by Carolyn Ridder Aspenson

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to similarly named places or to persons living or deceased is unintentional.

  For Jack

  Just because.

  Message from the Author

  I’m having fun with Lily and Belle, and all the unique, interesting people in the imaginary Bramblett County. If you’re from Georgia, some things might sound familiar, but with a bit of certain liberties taken here and there. This is what happens when an author sits in a local coffee shop and drinks too many espressos while staring out the window, deadlines looming and thoughts of college tuition payments filling her head. Know that I don’t intend to name anyone specifically, so if your fifth cousin twice removed is in this book, well, whoops, that wasn’t my intention, unless of course he’s a good guy, then yay! If not, I didn’t actually see him cut someone off on the main street of my town and honk at the local church pastor while crossing with the walk sign and think, “That guy is so the bad guy in my next novel,” I promise.

  Maybe.

  Chapter 1

  I passed twenty-seven scarecrows hanging out of the backs of Chevy and Ford pickup trucks on the drive out to Abernathy Farm. Six waved at me from two mini-vans. And I might have been wrong, but I’d have bet my life savings at least two cackled at me from the back of a convertible. Yes, cackled like I’d just tried to eat the corn in their field and they wanted to scare me away.

  I shivered when I drove by those.

  I rolled up my windows, bummed to no longer be able to hear the wind as it whipped through the wild and overgrown grass or the conversations of the rescued cows from the long-closed dairy farm on the senior cow sanctuary pasture residing on the outskirts of the Bramblett County line. I didn’t mind, however, foregoing the pasture smell.

  All of Bramblett County was keyed up and rarin’ to go for the annual Abernathy Farm, “It’s Fall, Y’all” festival. Signs lined our county streets, and every back road farm included at least one mini-billboard with a scarecrow planted next to it reminding passersby of the big event.

  The festival wasn’t just a big event for Bramblett County, Georgia. It was the event of the year.

  Each year county residents created remarkable and eerie scarecrows dressed in various Halloween outfits—witches, ghosts, vampires, movie stars, and unfortunately, as of late, even politicians—and placed them throughout the maze. The scarecrows were meant to distract and scare the maze participants, and even though it wasn’t an official contest to complete the maze, it definitely had become an unofficial one.

  The scarecrow design itself was somewhat of a competition, too. The poor scarecrow in The Wizard of Oz may not have had a brain, but the ones in our corn maze were practically computerized. I almost felt sorry for Dorothy’s mindless buddy. I hoped if they did another remake, they gave him a technologically advanced brain.

  As a child, every year my family stuffed a pair of my daddy’s old overalls and a beat up old button-down flannel shirt with a few bales of hay, tossed some suede work gloves and a pair of ragged and no longer good boots onto it and gave it a head made of hay wrapped with an ace bandage. We topped them with a straw hat and added a few secret family tricks for the face and then drove him over to William Abernathy’s family farm for the festival. As I got older, I made them with my friends instead. One year, the girls—Belle, Caroline, Heather, Savannah and yours truly—designed a Posh Spice scarecrow. We thought she rocked the festival, but she disappeared. William Abernathy told us the coyotes probably got to her, but we knew it was the high school football team. She was just that incredible.

  I arrived at Abernathy Farm to a panicked Caroline Abernathy, my lifelong friend, bawling her eyes out on the gravel parking lot near the start of the pumpkin patch. Caroline was a few months pregnant and an emotional train wreck most days. Actually, that was an understatement, but no one had the guts to tell her that. Her mood swings went from the happiest girl on the planet to her husband clearing the house of all sharp objects. My boyfriend, Dylan Roberts thought she was the perfect spokeswoman for birth control. I secretly agreed, but only because she’d been the president of my high school archery club and had killer aim. No pun intended.

  She rushed over to me the minute I stepped out of my car. “Oh, Lilybit, it’s just terrible what’s happening.”

  “What’s going on Caroline?”

  Her husband, William sauntered over, relaxation with a hint of annoyance spread across his face. “Now honey, don’t go worrying yourself over this. You know the doctor said you’ve got to stay calm. Your blood pressure is already too high. You’re going to end up on bedrest before you know it.”

  She fanned her face with one of those old-fashioned paper fans my Mimi used to use. My Mimi was my great-grandmother. We weren’t allowed to call her that, or even our great meemaw, because she said she was too darn—though she used a different word—young to be called anything great or grand and thought Mimi sounded much more youthful and sexier. That always embarrassed my meemaw, but my mother thought it was fabulous. I did, too.

  “My, it is hotter than Hades out here. Does Mother Nature not know it’s October?” Her skin flushed a bright pink. “I’m about ready to burst into flames right here on this gravel, let me tell you.”

  “Sweetie, you need to go inside and cool off.” I guided her toward their house which wasn’t all that close to the parking lot. “What are you doing out here anyway?”

  She sniffled. “It’s the pumpkins. Look at them. They’re a mess. They’re rotting in this heat. Why, if we don’t do something, we won’t have any left to use for decoration or to sell at the festival.”

  I glanced at the pumpkins but didn’t see a thing wrong with them, so I snuck a peek at William who just shrugged. “They look fine to me, sweetie. I think you’re just exhausted. How ‘bout we go inside and have an ice cold glass of water and sit a spell?”

  “That sounds lovely. I might could take a nap, too.”

  William mouthed “thank you” my direction. I had a feeling he was just as exhausted dealing with Caroline pregnant as she was being Caroline pregnant.

  We sat inside and drank our ice water, and in fifteen minutes, Caroline had passed out on their comfy family room couch. I tip-toed out as quietly as possible for fear I’d wake the monster.

  I found William back near the pumpkin patch, loading pumpkins onto the bed of his pickup truck. “I came by to see if I can help with anything before the festival starts tomorrow.”

  He wiped his forehead with a red and black bandana. “What you just did was already a huge help. I can’t thank you enough for that.”

  “They say the first trimester is tough, but it gets better.”

  “That’s what I’m told. I’m just hoping they’re right.”
<
br />   I couldn’t help but laugh. “Is everything ready for tomorrow?”

  He nodded. “We’re all set. People are still dropping off their scarecrows, but you know how that goes. They’ll be doing that until we tell them to stop.”

  “They’re the best part of the festival.” I patted my chest and swooned. “Last year, that one of Robert Downing Jr. was amazing.”

  He laughed. “That was pretty incredible. Wait ‘til you see what’s out there this year. One kid asked if he could use a drone to control his.”

  “A drone? That’s pretty high tech.”

  “I know. So much for an old-fashioned haunted corn maze.”

  “Really. So, did you let him?”

  “We told him we’d prefer he didn’t, but it’s not like we can force him not to, you know? Some of those things are the size of my hand. How’re we going to know if he’s doing it or not?”

  “That’s true.”

  “We’ll keep an eye out though, and if we see anything funny, I’ll just sic Caroline on him.”

  “Oh, Lord. That’ll definitely put a stop to it.”

  He laughed. “One day we’ll use more technology for the maze, but we’re not there yet. We like the old-fashioned scare techniques. Popping out of the corn. Scary makeup. The masked guy with the chainsaw, that kind of thing. Traditional techniques seem to work best for our maze, you know?”

  “Always scares me, that’s for sure.”

  We walked to my car. “Well, if you need anything before tomorrow, let me know. You know I’ll do whatever I can.” I climbed into the driver’s seat and hit the ignition button. My engine revved to life.

  “I appreciate it.”

  “I’m really excited about the haunted maze.”

  “I am, too. It’s going to be a great one this year.”

  “See you tomorrow then.”

  He waved as I pulled away.

  * * *

  I yelled to the back of my office. “Belle, come on, we’re going to be late.” Bo, my Boxer mix, swept the wood floor with his long tail. “Bo, go get Belle.”

  He tilted his head at me and wagged his tail some more.

  “Go on, get her.”

  He flipped around and bolted to the bathroom door that Belle had locked herself behind. When he got to it, he jumped on it and barked.

  “Okay, okay, I’m almost done you big lug,” she said.

  I walked to the back of the office and hung out with my pup.

  Bo dropped into downward doggie pose and attempted to stick his nose under the crack of the door.

  “Stop creeping on me you crazy mutt. I’m half naked in here.”

  I laughed. “You’re not his type anyway. He prefers French Poodles. I think he’s got his eye on one at doggy daycare.”

  She opened the door, and when Bo saw her, he drew his ears back, stepped behind me and growled.

  I scanned her Halloween costume. “What in the devil’s carnation are you?”

  “I’m a zombie. Duh.”

  “Oh. I would have pegged you for a throwback to the 80s version of Madonna.”

  She pointed to the red makeup on her face. “This is supposed to be blood.”

  “Really? I figured you were going for the just got off the dance floor sweaty version or maybe the drunk version or something. How am I supposed to know? I don’t watch zombie shows.”

  “You’ve really got to expand your TV viewing platform. Crime shows are so passé.”

  “Really? Tell that to Mark Harmon.”

  “Who?”

  “Bless your heart.”

  Matthew and Dylan walked in, and Belle bounced on her tippy-toes. “Oh, yes. That’s what I’m talking about.” She clapped. “You look perfect.” She rushed over to her boyfriend Matthew and hugged him.

  “Hey, don’t touch my face. I don’t think my scars are dry yet.”

  Dylan shook his head. “That’s the first, and hopefully the last time I’ll ever drive in a vehicle with a man applying makeup in the sun visor mirror.”

  “It was just a few touch-ups,” Matthew argued.

  Dylan grimaced. “Dude.”

  Belle and I laughed.

  Dylan kissed my forehead. “You look nice.”

  I twirled and did a curtsey. “You like my costume?” I never dressed for Halloween. It just wasn’t my thing, but I did dress up a bit more than usual for the festival. The weather had yet to cool enough for a heavy fall sweater, but a light cardigan and a sundress with a pair of cowboy boots felt like the perfect outfit for the event, and Dylan approved, so I considered my pick a success.

  “I love it,” he said.

  “You look great, too,” Matthew told Belle. “Perfectly undead.”

  Bo growled at him, too, but from the safety of the back of my legs. “It’s okay Bo, they won’t hurt you.”

  Belle bent down and stretched out her hand. “Come on big guy, it’s me.” She scooted toward him, and he stuck his tail between his legs.

  “Belle, stop, you’re scaring him.” I crouched down and hugged my dog. “It’s okay baby, don’t let the mean undead girl bother you. She’s harmless.”

  His tail made it halfway out from between his legs but promptly went back when Matthew bent down to pet him.

  Dylan patted his head. “Come on, buddy, I got your back.”

  Bo bounded up and found his place next to Dylan, his man of men, his father-like figure, his tower of strength. I would have been jealous if I didn’t find their connection so endearing.

  “I take it you’re driving?” I asked Dylan.

  He nodded. “Matt was too busy primping to take his car.”

  “We’ll take Belle’s. I don’t want to embarrass the County Sheriff,” Matthew said.

  “I do have a reputation to maintain, and it’s not one that includes my deputies wearing rouge.”

  “Blush,” Belle, Matthew and I said in unison.

  Dylan pointed at Matthew. “The fact that you even knew that is of great concern to me.”

  “What? I grew up with sisters. I know a lot of things I’d rather not know.”

  Dylan shook his head. “I’d rather not know them, either.” He held open the office door. “Let’s go. We’ve got a maze to conquer.”

  I hopped out toward his car, giddy with excitement and my dog at my feet.

  * * *

  The entire county headed out to the festival at the same time, backing up traffic down Main Street and along every back road throughout Bramblett County. I glanced out the back window at the line of traffic stretched behind us down Dahlonega Highway, snapping photos of it with my cell phone. The cars sloped along the road’s rolling hills like the patterned floral sheets my meemaw used to throw over her front porch swing on hot summer days. As the sun set in the western part of the sky, its amber and golden hues bounced off the cars, casting a glowing haze over the farms’ pastures along the route. I flipped back around and settled into my seat.

  Dylan rubbed my knee. “This really is a beautiful place.” He hit the button to open his back window just enough for Bo’s nose to stick out a touch.

  Bo barked his demand to open it more, but I asked Dylan not to. “It’s not good for him, the wind.”

  He agreed.

  We arrived at the festival to special parking assigned by William Abernathy.

  I smiled as Dylan opened my door. “This is perfect. The sun setting, the light breeze—everything.”

  He wrapped his hand in mine. “The company especially.”

  Bo nudged our hands.

  “Yes, you too, buddy,” Dylan said.

  Caroline greeted us at the entrance to the festival. “Hey, y’all. Matthew and Belle just arrived too, though I didn’t recognize them.” She giggled. “Is it just me, or does that Matthew look a little too made up? Like maybe his momma did his face?”

  Dylan coughed. “Man card, destroyed.”

  Caroline hugged me. “You look darling, Lily.” She clipped a wristband around my left wrist and then another one on
Dylan. “You two have full access, and you get two free pumpkins, so go on now, have yourself some fun.” She squatted down and nuzzled her face into Bo’s. “And you, big sweetie, don’t you go and piddle on any of the scarecrows, you hear me?”

  He swiped his tongue across her entire face.

  She laughed. “I love this big baby.”

  “Everyone does,” I said.

  She heaved herself back up. “Okay, I’ve got to get moving here, but wow, does my back hurt already. I hope this isn’t how it’s going to be for my entire pregnancy. Y’all have fun, okay?”

  “Will do,” Dylan said.

  “Hey, where’s Belle and Matthew?” I asked.

  She pointed toward the dunk tank. “With Henrietta and Bonnie over there. They’re dunking Billy Ray Brownlee. Guess he’s pitching a fit about which one he wants to date, and the ladies decided to volunteer him for the tank. Now they’re over there trying to hit the target with their BB guns instead of the balls.”

  “Oh, that’s not good.”

  She shook her head. “Which part, Billy Ray pitching a fit about who he wants to date, or the ladies using their BB guns to dunk him?”

  “Both, but mostly his pitching a fit because that’s what started it all, obviously.”

  “Honey, if that boy had an idea, it’d die of loneliness, let me tell you.”

  Dylan coughed to cover his laugh. He’d done that a lot lately. “I’d better head on over that direction.”

  Caroline sighed. “That’s exactly what Matthew said. Am I going to have to kick them all out? I really don’t want to do that.”

  I rubbed her arm. “Don’t worry, sweetie, we’ll take care of them. You just go on and do what you need to do.”

  We headed toward the dunk tank with Bo waddling along by our sides.

  “This ought to be highly entertaining,” I said.

  “Should we stop and grab some kettle corn first? You know, to munch on while we watch the show?”