Mulberry Mischief

by Sharon Farrow

  “Now I understand why Ellen became unhappy at the end of your stay on Mackinac Island,” I said. “She’d learned you had only proposed because you wanted to push Laeticia further away. And that you were part of the family’s web of lies about the baby.”

  “When we boarded the yacht, I had two demanding women to deal with. My parents told me to handle Laeticia gently. That I should leave it to them to employ their money and their attorneys to keep Laeticia silent. I was not to upset her further. But she was always upset.”

  “According to the book, Ellen was upset, too,” I said.

  “More than upset. Enraged.” Keith must have decided to search for the laptop. He began to pull open the bottom drawers of a wooden hutch filled with berry jams. “After she learned about the baby, Ellen turned on me. She feared my family would keep Laeticia’s child from her. Ellen promised she would do anything she could to help Laeticia.”

  I had only known Ellen a few short days, but it was long enough to appreciate her steadfast determination. It had gotten her sent to prison. And then killed.

  “I warned Ellen.” He opened the drawers so roughly, jam jars toppled to the floor in a tinkle of broken glass. “I tried to make her see reason. She was more stubborn than I realized, and vowed to protect Laeticia and the baby. We argued that night while everyone was below in their cabins being sick. She was so caught up being self-righteous, she forgot her fear of water and followed me out on deck.”

  “Led there by you.” I edged my way to the front door. “The manuscript says Laeticia went to look for Ellen because she knew Ellen was afraid of water. She was worried about her. With reason. She found the two of you outside.” I paused, recalling what I had read earlier that night. “And you had your hands around Ellen’s throat.”

  He turned his attention from the drawers and stared at me for a long uncomfortable moment. “I hadn’t even applied any pressure yet. Before I could, Laeticia rushed over to save her. I had a split second to decide which of the two posed the most risk. I knew Laeticia would always be a threat. A mother’s love and all that. The choice was easy.”

  A murderous choice is always easy for a psychopath, I thought.

  Realizing that I had moved, Keith walked over to me. I froze. He now stood so close, his breath moved the white strands of my wig.

  “I also knew Ellen had a history of emotional instability. No one would believe her when she told the truth. And no one did.” He put his face even closer. “I repeat, the choice was easy.”

  “So is this choice.” I swung the bottle at his head. It landed with a satisfying thunk.

  As he fell to his knees, I ran for the door. On the other side looking in stood a man I recognized. Dennis, the man who waited outside the car the day I spoke with Cameron. He looked startled to see me suddenly staring back.

  I raced for the back of the shop.

  By the time I reached the door that led to the parking lot, I heard voices behind me. Keith must have recovered from the blow I struck and let his goon inside. I pushed aside the wheeled baking shelves I’d placed in front of the back door to alert me of any intruders. Now they blocked my escape.

  “Tear this store apart!” I heard Keith say. “The computer is here. I know it!”

  I hoped the shop window was the last place he looked. And I hoped to get the hell out of here before Keith reached me. I pushed the metal shelves out of the way, sending them crashing into the stove. Fingers crossed, Keith had not posted another man out back.

  When I unlocked the door, I saw only parked cars. I took off at a run. When I burst out of the side alley and onto the crammed sidewalk, I felt giddy at finally being among so many people. Thousands of eyewitnesses—if Keith Sable chose to pursue me. Unlike the panicked crowd in the vendor room, I welcomed the sight of all these people.

  I scanned the mobbed sidewalk in search of Kit’s Jon Snow costume. Everyone not in the parade had staked out their viewing spot along the length of Lyall Street. Sawhorses lined the curb to keep spectators from getting in the way of the parade participants.

  Because they planned to march, my friends must be at the end of the street. I needed to find them. But I could barely move.

  I caught sight of Pennywise the clown to my left, about three stores down. Max stood on a park bench in front of the White Gallery, laughing and making threatening gestures at people. I tried to reach him, but five women dressed as Dallas Cowboys cheerleaders blocked my way. I barely avoided being smacked in the head when one of them did a high kick.

  I pulled off the remaining dragon velcroed to my skirt and waved at Max.

  “Max! Max, come here!” I shouted. The loudspeakers, now blaring the song from Ghostbusters, drowned me out.

  He waved back, accompanied by his version of spooky fingers. This inspired the cheerleaders to wave blue and white pom-poms in my face. I’d never get past them. Or the gang of Walking Dead behind them.

  Someone snatched the dragon from my hand.

  “Hey!” I looked over in time to see Spiderman squeeze through the crowd, holding aloft my dragon. So much for superheroes.

  I was also in time to see the white mask of the Phantom appear over someone’s shoulder. With his flunky left behind to tear up my store, Keith must feel confident the computer would be found. That made me expendable. He had spotted me and roughly shoved Little Orphan Annie and Princess Leia out of the way.

  The beginning of the parade lay to my right, and I needed to head there fast.

  “Excuse me, excuse me.” I tried to muscle my way to the edge of the sidewalk and onto the street, which had been cleared for the parade. If I could reach the empty street, I could run. Keith wouldn’t dare follow me.

  But a chorus of protests greeted my attempt.

  “We were here first!”

  “Who do you think you are?”

  “She’s the Mother of Dragons,” someone replied, spying the one dragon I had left, still clinging to my shoulder.

  “Well, she can get the dragons to fly her out of here, cause she’s not taking my spot!”

  “Let me through!” Unable to reach the curb, I pushed toward the end of the street where a giant pumpkin man puppet stood overhead. He traditionally led the parade, held aloft by several local puppeteers. Behind him assembled a virtual army of costumed people, many of them locals. And my friends.

  Desperate, I stepped on people’s toes and shoved. Up ahead I spied the back of Wonder Woman’s head. I got as close as I could and touched her shoulder. “Tess!” I yelled.

  She turned around, revealing a bearded man dressed as everyone’s favorite Amazon. Before I could let out a frustrated sigh, I felt a hand on my own shoulder.

  I looked behind me. The Phantom was near enough to stretch his hand out and clamp onto my shoulder. Then he got even closer.

  I screamed as his fingers curled around my neck. “This man is trying to kill me!”

  “Of course he is,” a drunken man yelled, brandishing a beer bottle. “He’s the Phantom of the Opera!”

  A chorus of laughs and hoots rose up. The crowd viewed us as two costumed people playing our parts to the hilt.

  His hand tightened around my neck. There was no way he could strangle me from this angle, but he could keep me from getting away. I sunk my nails into his hand and he cried out.

  When his grip loosened, I threw myself forward.

  “Out of my way!” I pushed through the crowd like a woman possessed. I also landed a few random kicks to convince people to move aside.

  If only I could reach somewhere less crowded, I could get people to pay attention to the danger I was in. But only the bars and restaurants were open, and they lay too far up the block or on the other side of the street.

  I had almost reached city hall when I had a lightbulb moment. The city hall building was open because that was where the sound and lighting equipment had been stored before the parade. Along with the giant pumpkin-man puppet. Someone might still be inside. If not, it had a place where I would definitely
be seen.

  I didn’t bother to look back, not when I was so close. As everyone pressed toward the street, I moved in the opposite direction. I tripped forward out of the crowd and fell in front of the front door of city hall. Scrambling to my feet, I pulled the door open.

  The lights had been left on inside, but I didn’t see anyone. Sidestepping boxes of electrical equipment stacked on the floor, I ran past the closed city offices. Behind me I heard the door open, letting in the noise from the street. Then it grew quiet again. Had Keith followed me? I didn’t wait to find out.

  I ran up the stairs to the bell tower, which ended in a circular landing. Open arches met me on all sides. Directly overhead was the cupola and Piper’s shiny brass bell. It looked even larger up close.

  I stepped through one of the arches onto the outside ledge. It was narrower than I imagined. Fortunately, Piper had ordered the renovators to install a two-foot-tall black iron railing. Otherwise I might have toppled over the side. It was only two stories up, but high enough to break your neck if you landed wrong.

  Pressed against the back of the bell tower, I looked down. Lyall Street teemed with spectators. All of them focused to my right, where the parade participants were poised to begin. But I needed all eyes on me to stay safe.

  I yanked the velcroed dragon off my shoulder and waved. Waved harder than I ever had.

  Up here, everyone could appreciate the full effect of my silver glittering gown and long white wig. In addition, my stuffed dragon was fiery orange. Almost immediately, people in the crowd began to wave back. Please have Kit see me. He has to be out there. Chief Hitchcock, too. Look at me. Look at me.

  “It’s Daenerys!” someone shouted. “Daenerys!”

  A cry went up and suddenly everyone seemed to be waving at me. They probably thought this was part of the festivities. The Mother of Dragons signaling the parade to start.

  I heard Keith step onto the ledge. He was breathing heavy.

  “If you plan to kill me, you’ve got an audience,” I said, waving my dragon.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his long black cloak swirl in the night breeze as he took a step closer. “When the parade begins,” he said, “their attention will be elsewhere, and you and I will go back inside. As soon as Dennis lets me know he’s found the laptop, you’ll meet with an accident on the way down the stairs. Poor girl, they’ll say. So excited to see the parade, she tripped over her costume and broke her neck.”

  “You’ll have to pick me up and carry me off this ledge,” I warned.

  “Maybe I should just push you off.” He moved closer.

  I heard the clock hand below us click to ten o’clock as Keith went on, “If I trip you, it will look like an—”

  The brass bell rang out.

  I was prepared for the deafening noise. Keith wasn’t.

  He gave a startled cry and jumped back. But there was nowhere to jump to.

  Arms flailing, he toppled over the short iron railing and fell from sight.

  As the bell continued to toll ten o‘clock, I looked down to see him crumpled on the sidewalk below. His white mask had shattered, and his black cape spread about him like the wings of a dead bat. It looked like he had barely missed falling on a woman dressed as a nurse. Which seemed ironic.

  Because much of the crowd had been watching me wave my dragon when Keith fell, I was sure screams had gone up. Not that I could have heard them with the loudest bell in the world tolling right above me.

  People rushed over to where he fell. Two were police officers. One was a man with a black fur cloak, who knelt beside the body. After a moment, the man looked up at me and shouted something. The bell drowned him out, but I thought he said, “He’s still alive.”

  Leaning back against the bell tower, I smiled. Jon Snow had finally found me.

  I rubbed my mulberry bracelet and waited for my heart to slow down. And the bell to finish tolling. When it finally did, I went back through the arch to the landing inside, only to be met with Bigfoot. And he held a shotgun.

  “What the hell?” I asked.

  Old Man Bowman pulled off his rubber mask, lavishly trimmed in brown animal hair. “I’ve been meaning to put an end to this bell, Marlee. It’s a hazard. And now it’s done killed a man. Almost killed you, too. Luckily, I had my shotgun in my truck around the corner. Now I’m going to blow the bell’s innards in that box over there.” He pointed at the electronic controls affixed to one of the arches.

  “The man that fell is Keith Sable. And I think he’s still alive. He was trying to kill me. The bell scared him before he could. It saved my life. Literally.”

  He grunted. “Don’t that beat all? It’s like that John Donne poem about not asking for whom the bell tolls.”

  “Yep. Tonight it tolled for me. But in a good way.”

  Old Man Bowman stared at the blinking electronic box. “It’s still too damn loud. And we’ll never convince Piper to lower the volume. So . . .”

  He raised his shotgun and fired. The control box exploded into dozens of pieces.

  My ears already rang from the bell. The shotgun blast sent them vibrating.

  “Now maybe we’ll have a little peace and quiet in this town.” He put his hairy rubber mask back on.

  “I doubt it,” I said as I followed Bigfoot down the steps. “And when Piper finds out what you’ve done to her bell . . .”

  “Hah! If I ain’t afraid of Bigfoot, I’m sure not gonna worry about Piper.” Then he let out a mock growl to prove it.

  At times like this, it felt like every night in Oriole Point was Halloween. Which wasn’t all bad if you factored in the candy.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  By the time Halloween officially ended at midnight, I’d had my fill of costumes, candy—and murder. Although we all agreed this year’s Halloween parade would be hard to top. What with Daenerys signaling the start of the event and a brutal killer toppling from the bell tower. Followed by Bigfoot exiting city hall with a shotgun.

  “How do other towns celebrate Halloween?” Gillian asked us.

  “Not like this,” Dean said, loosening his Book of Mormon missionary tie.

  “You have to admit Oriole Point makes it a real thrill fest.” Andrew laughed.

  “With the accent on thrills,” I said, looking out the shop window as costumed stragglers left the bars about to close.

  “I feel bad that I sold my cloak and mask to the dangerous man,” Theo said for the fourth time. “He used my costume to fool you, Marlee. It’s my fault.”

  “You didn’t know what he planned to do with it,” Max told him, also for the fourth time. “Don’t feel bad.”

  “Hey, if someone offered me five hundred dollars, I would have sold him my costume, too.” I spun about, enjoying the silver sparkles on my gown. On second thought, maybe I wouldn’t have been able to part with it.

  “I can’t believe you got five hundred dollars for a cloak and mask.” Oscar looked down at his Colonial uniform. “Here I am, the spitting image of Alexander Hamilton, and no one offers me a dollar for this costume.” He pointed at Andrew’s elaborate Thomas Jefferson getup. “Or his.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t part with my Chip costume for double that,” David declared, giving a pat to the chipmunk head that sat on the bistro table beside him.

  Tess rolled her eyes, busy eating her third slice of cake. Since it was Wonder Woman’s birthday, she was focused on overindulging.

  Still in costume, Old Man Bowman emerged from the shop kitchen, holding two cups. I didn’t know which was more disturbing: the prospect of his industrial-strength coffee or seeing Bigfoot expertly handle my Grindmaster Coffee Brewer.

  He handed one cup to Natasha. The extra pot of coffee had been made especially for her. Our Russian Cleopatra had drunk a bit too much birthday champagne. “Is not right the Sable man only breaks his neck,” she exclaimed. “For what he does, he should be shot.”

  “Pennywise would have done worse,” Max said with an evil chuckle.

&
nbsp; Natasha glared at Bigfoot, her diadem lying crooked atop her head. “Why do you not shoot him in bell tower?”

  “Hell, he’d already fallen off the damn thing by the time I got there.” Like a hairy headwaiter, he handed the other cup to David.

  “Net opravdaniya. Is no excuse.” Natasha flung a stuffed snake onto the table. It appeared Old Man Bowman had found a snake to replace her rubber asp. Only this one looked like a mummified garter snake. Which it probably was.

  Despite the frightening events of tonight, I felt calmer than I had all week. And at peace. After I gave my statement at the police station, my friends and I decamped to The Berry Basket, where we broke open Tess’s birthday champagne and ate that delicious cake Theo baked for her. For the past two hours, we had discussed what I learned from Mischief and Murder, interspersing it with requests for me to retell my chilling encounter with the murderous Keith Sable.

  It was now two a.m. and the adrenaline of the night still hadn’t worn off. No surprise. The past four hours had been filled with enough action for several Game of Thrones episodes.

  After his plunge off the bell tower, Keith Sable was rushed to the hospital, where doctors discovered he had broken his neck, along with both shoulders, and three vertebrae. He’d live, but a long, painful recovery lay in front of him. As did a murder trial. And, hopefully, prison.

  The Sables were in an uproar. Although I wasn’t certain if it was because Keith had been charged with the murders of Ellen and Bonaventure or because the contents of Mischief and Murder were about to go public. Even worse for them, Kit had tracked down their former bosun, James Smith, now residing in Kauai with Shelly Zahradnik. Because it was six hours earlier in Hawaii, the sheriff’s department had spoken with him tonight. And the tale he told resulted in an additional murder charge against Keith Sable. This time for the murder of Laeticia Murier.

  All this before midnight. I couldn’t help but think that the spirits of both Laeticia and Ellen had been present this All Hallows’ Eve. And that their souls were finally at rest. I sent a prayer for Felix Bonaventure, too.