Death by Pumpkin Spice

by Alex Erickson

  DEATH BY PUMPKIN

  The door to the room was open. Pumpkins were laid out as if the room was meant to be a pumpkin patch straight out of someone’s nightmares. Some of the pumpkins were carved so that they looked sinister. There were no friendly smiles on these jack-o’-lanterns. The walls of the room were painted in shades of dark orange and blue that was reminiscent of dusk. Guarding the pumpkins were a trio of scarecrows, their jack-o’-lantern faces grinning evilly down at where the body of Marilyn Monroe lay.

  Gasps echoed through the crowd, and I heard Margaret Yarborough’s name whispered more than once. I’d eased my way to the front with Will, so I could see that it wasn’t the older woman’s body, but rather, one of the younger Monroes I’d seen earlier.

  Her head was turned at an unnatural angle and smashed through a pumpkin . . .

  Books by Alex Erickson

  DEATH BY COFFEE

  DEATH BY TEA

  DEATH BY PUMPKIN SPICE

  Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation

  Death by Pumpkin Spice

  Alex Erickson

  KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.

  http://www.kensingtonbooks.com

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  Table of Contents

  DEATH BY PUMPKIN

  Books by Alex Erickson

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  26

  27

  28

  DEATH BY VANILLA LATTE

  To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.

  KENSINGTON BOOKS are published by

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  119 West 40th Street

  New York, NY 10018

  Copyright © 2016 by Eric S. Moore

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

  If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the Publisher and neither the Author nor the Publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

  Kensington and the K logo Reg. U.S. Pat & TM Off.

  ISBN: 978-1-6177-3755-8

  ISBN-10: 1-61773-755-0

  First Kensington Mass Market Edition: October 2016

  eISBN-13: 978-1-61773-756-5

  eISBN-10: 1-61773-756-9

  First Kensington Electronic Edition: October 2016

  1

  The pleasing aroma of fresh-baked pumpkin cookies filled the room as I removed the pan from the oven. Halloween was one of my favorite times of the year because that was when the world turned into a pumpkin lover’s bliss. I leaned in over the pan and breathed in deep. It was a challenge not to give in to temptation and sample the cookies as I carried them to the front to place within the empty display case.

  “Some have just come up!” Lena Allison said from her place at the register. She held up two fingers and gave me a relieved smile as I slid two cookies into a bag.

  Death by Coffee had been buzzing since we’d started selling pumpkin items. The cookies were gone almost as fast as I could bake them, and the various coffees were constantly in need of refills. It was running me ragged, but it was worth it.

  As Lena rang up another order, I finished filling the display case and carried the cooling cookie sheet to the back. I deposited it in the sink where it would need to be washed before I could use it again, then headed back out front to make a coffee of my own. I filled the cup three quarters of the way full, added some pumpkin spice flavoring, and then plopped in one of the recently baked cookies.

  “Ugh.” Lena turned up her nose as she leaned against the counter. The line was gone for the moment, giving her a few seconds to breathe. “I still don’t see how you could drink that. I hate pumpkin.”

  I took a sip and grinned at her over the rim of my cup. “Yum.”

  She laughed and shook her head, causing her purple hair to bounce around her ears. Her chin was clear of scrapes, though her elbow had a pretty nasty scab that she’d covered with a pair of Band-Aids. Her skateboard was parked in the back room, and it looked just as beat-up as she often did.

  Still, I wouldn’t trade her in for anyone else. Since Lena started working at Death by Coffee, she’d made my life a whole lot easier. She’s a smart girl, and friendly to boot. She was saving up to go to college, and I privately hoped she would stick close to home when she did leave. I’d hate to lose her.

  The bell above the door jangled and in came Rita Jablonski, bundled in a coat lined with fur I hoped was fake. She was a short woman, on the plump side, and was the biggest gossip in all of Pine Hills.

  “It’s getting windy out there!” she said, coming straight to where I stood. “They’re saying we could see some pretty serious storms over the next few days.”

  I glanced out the window, and indeed, the leaves were blowing around as if a tornado were itching to come roaring down out of the cloudy sky. The reds and yellows were beautiful, but I’ll admit, I did miss the warm sun and full green of mid-summer, though I wasn’t a fan of the sometimes oppressive heat.

  “I hope it won’t be too bad,” I said. If the power went out, there’d be no more cookies or coffee. And that meant no more business.

  “Well, as long as it spends itself before this weekend, I’ll be happy.” Rita glared out the window as if the rain could hear her and comply. “The church is having our annual Trunk or Treat, and I for one plan on being there, rain or shine. We are participating this year, just like the last, and I won’t let a little wet weather ruin it.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “We?”

  She looked surprised for a moment before smiling. “The book club, of course! We talked about it during our last meeting.” She paused and a look of understanding passed over her face. “That’s right, you weren’t there.” She leaned forward, pressing against the counter as she spoke. “We’re holding it at the church on Sunday evening. Cars will be parked in the lot, trunks filled with candy. The kids walk around and trick-or-treat like they normally would. It’s safer than going from house to house and the costumes are a little less . . .” She grimaced.

  “Scary?”

  “Disgusting, more like. You can’t imagine what some of the teenagers dress up as when left to their own devices.”

  Oh, I could imagine all right. I’d lived near a college campus for a few years. Halloween was always a lesson in the perverse, especially since most college kids took any opportunity they could to drink and party. Add in costumes dreamed up over a drunken weekend, and let me tell you, it didn’t take long before I made sure not to be anywhere near the campus on Halloween.

  “I do hope you get the night off,” Rita said. “We start at six.”

  “I’ll check with Vicki,” I said. “But it should be okay. We aren’t open much later than six anyway.”

  “You do that.”

  I was surprised to realize I was actually excited about the event. It sounded fun, and Vicki was always pressuring m
e to get out more. It might give me a chance to meet more people in town, and maybe advertise just a little.

  The door opened and I glanced up just as Will Foster walked in. He paused just inside the door, looking as uncomfortable as any man could, before his eyes landed on me. He strode across the room, right past Rita, and came to a stop in front of me.

  “Krissy.” He coughed to clear his throat. “Could we talk for a moment?”

  I was so flustered, I almost didn’t answer. Will was a dream to look at normally, yet today he seemed to positively glow. His dark brown eyes, his near-black hair, and skin the color of a creamer-rich coffee was enough to cause me to break out into an instant nervous sweat. His coat was one of those long, black, button-up jobbies that all the stylish men seemed to wear on magazine covers. I couldn’t see his shoes from where I stood, but I was pretty sure they’d be polished to a shine.

  “Krissy?” he asked. “You okay?”

  “Huh? Oh! Yeah.” I hurriedly set my coffee down before I spilled it. “I’m just surprised to see you.” The last time I’d seen Will, he’d left thinking I was seeing another man, not knowing the man he’d seen me with had been a suspect in a murder investigation. The guy had hit on me and made a scene, but I’d never even considered going out with him. I hadn’t had time to explain what really happened before Will was gone.

  He flushed a little and looked down at his hands. They looked strong and manicured. “Well, I . . .” He cleared his throat and looked around me like he was afraid looking me in the eye would cause me to start yelling at him.

  As hurt as I was about him vanishing like he had, I let him off the hook. “Let’s go upstairs so we can talk privately.” I glanced at Lena. “You’ll be okay for a few minutes, right?” She nodded with a grin. I turned to Rita. “I’ll be back soon. Feel free to order and take a seat.”

  I stayed behind the counter as I headed upstairs to where my best friend and co-owner of Death by Coffee, Vicki Patterson, was showing our newest hire, Jeff Braun, how to ring up a book sale. He was a slow learner, but I had no doubt he’d get it eventually. Vicki glanced toward where Will was walking up the stairs across the room and then raised a delicate eyebrow at me.

  I shrugged and tried to hide my grin as I walked past her; I didn’t know, either. I strode around the counter and went to where Will was waiting between a pair of bookshelves.

  “What did you want to talk to me about?” I asked.

  “First, let me apologize,” he said. “I was stupid. I jumped to conclusions and didn’t let you tell me your side of the story. I’m an idiot.”

  “No, you’re not,” I said. His apology had my insides jumping up and down for joy so much, I felt sick.

  “No, I am.” He took one of my hands and clutched it in both of his. “I shouldn’t have walked away like that. And then with what happened after . . .”

  “It’s nothing,” I said, willing my glands not to overreact. His hands were so warm and strong and yet soft at the same time.

  Will sighed and smiled. “I don’t know how you can forgive me so easily. I should have come before now, but was afraid that after I’d made such a fool of myself, you wouldn’t want to see me.”

  “That’s silly,” I said. “Of course I want to see you.”

  A gleam came into his eye. “I know that now.” He laughed. “But you know how things are. I felt stupid, was afraid you’d call me on it the moment you saw me, and with work being so hectic lately, I used it as an excuse not to come see you.”

  “But you’re here now.”

  “That, I am.”

  It was as if a hole had opened in the roof and a beam of pure sunlight had washed over me. I felt warm all over and had an intense desire to squeal in joy.

  “You didn’t need to apologize,” I said, doing my best to contain my excitement. “I should have been more up front with you about what I was doing in the first place.”

  “You didn’t owe me anything,” he said. “We’d barely had a chance to speak, which was my fault entirely. If I’d given you more time, then maybe I wouldn’t have let my imagination get carried away with me. It’s a fault, I know.”

  He didn’t need to tell me about it. My imagination had a tendency to get me into more trouble than I cared to admit. It was a wonder it hadn’t gotten me killed yet.

  Will let go of my hand and cleared his throat again. “Now that that is out of the way, I have something I’d like to ask you.”

  “Okay.” It came out as a little squeak.

  “Because I was such a knucklehead, I’ll completely understand if you say no.”

  “I won’t.” I forced a nervous smile. “I mean, I won’t say no just because of that.”

  That caused him to laugh. “All right then.” He cleared his throat yet again. He appeared almost as nervous as I felt. “I would like to make up for my ignorant actions by taking you to a party.”

  “A party?”

  “A Halloween costume party, to be exact.” A devious smile crooked the corner of his mouth. “Unless you are frightened.”

  “I . . .” Fear clenched at my core. I might love Halloween, but I’d never been one to dress up in a costume. Any time I tried, it was always an unmitigated disaster. Pieces would fall off constantly, or I’d end up wearing the same thing as a dozen other people. Then there was the one time when I’d worn a rubber nose that caused me to break out into a horrible rash that spread over half of my face.

  A look of worry crossed Will’s eyes. “If you aren’t interested, you don’t have to go,” he said. “I have an invitation and thought it might be the perfect way to say I’m sorry.”

  “No!” I said, worried he would take it all back and leave, never to return. “I want to go. I’m just not sure I have anything to wear.”

  Relief washed over his face. “That’s okay. The party isn’t until Friday night. You have a couple of days to find something appropriate.” He reached into the pocket of his coat and removed a folded piece of stationery. “Here,” he said, holding it out to me.

  “What’s this?” I asked, taking it.

  “It’s my number. My cell, actually. In case you have any questions.”

  “I . . .” It was my turn to clear my throat. “Thank you.”

  He looked amused as he said, “It’s no problem at all. And if you wouldn’t mind, I have my cell on me and can input your number now in case I need to contact you before the big night.”

  “Of course!”

  Will whipped out his phone and handed it to me. It was one of the really nice ones that cost a fortune. I always opted for the free phones that came with a two-year contract, promising myself I’d eventually upgrade to something better, but never actually going through with it. I mean, how can you beat free?

  I typed in my number. Once it was in, I saved the contact and handed him his phone back. He was grinning as he glanced down at his screen, before shoving the phone in his pocket. He then checked his watch and frowned.

  “I need to get back to work,” he said. “I’ll call you tomorrow sometime so we can work out the details.”

  “Okay.” It was about the only thing I could manage.

  He turned and started to walk away but stopped. “Is he supposed to be doing that?”

  I followed his gaze to the upstairs table where people could sit to read. The black and white store cat, Trouble, was standing on his hind legs, front paw reaching into the eye socket of a jack-o’-lantern, trying to bat at the light inside.

  “He’ll be fine,” I said. “The candle is fake.” Though the pumpkin wasn’t. If he were to knock it off, I’d end up having to clean it up.

  “Ah.” Will watched the cat a moment longer before chuckling. “I’ll talk to you soon.” And then he was gone.

  I floated over to Trouble and picked him up. He meowed in surprise as I gave him a quick hug, before he started squirming to be put down. I carried him across the room and deposited him on top of one of the four-foot-tall bookshelves, where he glared at me before lyi
ng down to wash. I patted him on the head before going back downstairs to where Rita still stood, eyes focused on the front door Will had just exited. She turned to me with a surprised look on her face.

  “Well, well,” she said. “William Foster now, is it?”

  I couldn’t keep the stupid grin off my face as I answered. “He asked me to a costume party.”

  Rita’s eyebrows tried to leap from her face. “Really? You?”

  I was too happy to be miffed. “Yep. Me!”

  She made a sound that was part incredulous and part impressed. “There are quite a few women who would kill to go somewhere with him.” She paused, eyes widening. “Did he say what party?”

  “No,” I said, wondering what all the fuss was about. “He said he had an invitation and he wanted to take me.”

  Rita looked as if she might keel over right then and there. “Oh, Lordy Lou! He’s taking you to the Yarborough party! I can’t believe you of all people get to go!” She paused. “You did tell him you’d go, now didn’t you?”

  Annoyance started to seep into my voice as I answered. “I did. And how do you know which party he was talking about?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Everyone who is anyone always goes to the Yarborough party. It’s by invite only, you see, and I’d wager it is the only one someone like William Foster would go to.”

  My gut clenched. “I didn’t think it was all that big of a deal.”

  Rita’s eyes widened. “Not a big deal? Where have you been? It’s a huge deal!” She leaned onto the counter and lowered her voice. “I’m just surprised they are having it this year after . . . you know.”

  “No,” I said. “I don’t.”

  “The party was always Howard Yarborough’s baby,” she said, keeping her voice down as if she was sharing some deep, dark secret. “He was an architect, you see. He designed his house for this very occasion. He loved Halloween, did Howard, and he made sure to show it.”