Pumpkin Picking with Murder

by Auralee Wallace

  “Just say you’re jealous. That always makes me feel good.”

  “Who’s paying you to do all this?”

  “The town! Haven’t you been listening? Towns hire private security all the time.” Suddenly Freddie moved quickly to step in front of a teenage boy. The kid stopped in his tracks, looking mildly concerned. Freddie pointed to an empty french fry carton lying in the dirt a few feet behind the kid. The teen held his gaze for a moment, then turned, picked it up, and threw it in the trash can. Freddie gave him a nod then walked back over to me, holding his stern face. As he got closer, I watched him close his eyes and whisper, “Power.” He then flashed me a smile, and we continued walking.

  “Well,” I said, somewhat surprised to feel a smile spread across my face, “this is not at all what I expected, but … I’m happy for you, Freddie.”

  “You are?”

  “Yeah.” I really was too. This wasn’t a bad surprise at all.

  “You’re not going to be all stressed out and concerned?”

  “No.” I felt my eyebrows instantly try to furrow, but I told them to stand down. “Why would I be?”

  “Because it’s what you do.”

  “Okay, I’ll admit I stumbled a little when you brought up the whole surprise thing,” I said, finding my smile again. “But really, since last visit, I don’t worry as much as I used to. I’ve resolved a lot of my stuff. The Erica you’re thinking of is the old Erica.”

  “I thought the old Erica was the new Erica who came back to town last time, all responsible and grown up.”

  I looked up to the bright-blue sky and shook my head. “We both know that wasn’t sustainable. But what I can do is stay out of trouble. And maybe not expect the worst all the time. This surprise of yours proves it. I have come to realize that perhaps I have a bit of a knee-jerk reaction to stress. At times I might even have a temper when, you know, people I love are threatened.”

  “Yeah, your bar fight at the Salty Dawg last visit really made that clear.”

  I ignored him. “Last visit? I still had a lot of stuff to work out. I couldn’t really be myself.” I shrugged. “But this visit, I’m just going with the flow. Enjoy myself. Everything is falling into place. The trial is all wrapped up. My mother is busy with a retreat this week, and she doesn’t need me to help out—Ooh, caramel apples!” I moved over to the booth and pulled some money out of my pocket to hand over to the vendor before grabbing one. “And then there’s Gr—”

  Suddenly Freddie slapped me on the arm.

  “Ow,” I said. “You almost made me drop my apple!”

  “What is wrong with you?”

  “What?” I asked too sharply, knitting my brow. I wasn’t so much annoyed with Freddie, though. I couldn’t undo the tape holding the cellophane around my apple, and the delay in my gratification was starting to get to me.

  Freddie sliced the air in front of him with his hands. “Okay, from now on the number four is completely off limits.”

  I looked up from my puzzle apple and blinked. “I’m sorry?”

  “Maybe six too.”

  “Again,” I said, turning an ear toward him, “I’m sorry?”

  Freddie grabbed my apple and ripped off the plastic. I smiled and snatched it back.

  “You just can’t be saying that kind of stuff like that.”

  I gave him a look that I hoped spoke to the fact that I still wasn’t following.

  “Everything’s going my way,” he said, mock-waving his hands in the air. “This week’s going to be perfect. I may have to call my grandmother. She knows more about this kind of thing.”

  “What are you going on about?”

  “You can’t say that stuff out loud,” Freddie said, throwing his hands into the air. “You’re just asking to be smacked down by whatever powers that be.”

  “Whatever,” I said, smiling and rolling my eyes. “I’m not superstitious.”

  “Look,” Freddie said, with a sharp point. “There’s a ladder over there against that shed. Why don’t you go walk under it? Or maybe we should find you a black cat you can cross paths with.”

  “Okay, which superstitions are we following here?”

  “All of them!”

  “Just settle down, you,” I said, linking my arm through his. “Nothing’s going to ruin this week.”

  “Making it worse.” He yanked his arm back. “And stop it. I’m working, and we are not touching friends.” He made a strange sound of disgust at the back of his throat. “Happy Erica is weird.”

  “Oh relax,” I said. “I believe in free agency. I make my own destiny. I don’t believe in bad luc—”

  Suddenly a scream cut me off. A scream that stood out from all the others coming from the rides.

  Freddie snapped his head around like a retriever after a gunshot. “What about now? Can you hear me now?”

  Chapter Two

  “The Tunnel of Love!” Freddie made off in the most unathletic run in what seemed to be the wrong direction for the ride.

  “Wait! Freddie!” I yelled. “This way is faster!”

  “No! That way has pumpkin people! Come on!”

  “Pumpkin people?” I muttered, before taking off after him.

  A moment later we were pushing our way through the crowd to the makeshift gate. A ride operator stood in a little box by the opening collecting tickets. He didn’t look particularly alarmed.

  “What’s going on here?” Freddie asked in a stern voice.

  “Kids,” the tired worker said with a dismissive shake of the head.

  We looked over to the giant swan cart rolling through the draping vines of plastic flowers that covered the heart-shaped exit of the tunnel. An adolescent boy had his varsity jacket zipped and pulled up over his head. He swayed his arms around in zombie-like motions, making the girl beside him squeal.

  I inhaled deeply and smiled. I had to admit for a second there everything Freddie had said about superstitions and bad luck had started to get to me. I patted him on the back. “See? What did I tell you? It’s just kids.”

  Freddie’s shoulders slumped. “Bummer. I thought we might see some real action.”

  “Nope. Not this week.” I stepped back to let more couples through the gate to the ride. “This week, it’s all smooth sailing at Otter Lake.”

  Just then another scream pierced the air, ringing with even more horror.

  Freddie looked at me. “You just can’t help yourself, can you?”

  It was the teenage girl again, but she wasn’t screaming at her boyfriend’s antics this time. She stood on the platform beside the rickety track, pointing back at the next swan emerging from the mouth of the cave.

  Uh-oh.

  “Hey,” I said, tapping Freddie lightly with the back of my hand against his arm a few times. “Is that guy all right?” Something was definitely wrong. There was a man … an older man, and I couldn’t quite see through the people, but it looked like he was keeled over the giant bird’s plastic wing.

  Freddie huffed a quick breath and whispered, “I got this.” He then scissored his legs over the metal fence and shouted, “Everybody back!”

  I stood frozen a moment, then shook my head and started after him.

  “Erica!” Freddie shouted. “Dr. Reynolds! There! By the ring-toss game! Go!”

  I spun around and pushed my way through the crowd again, weaving around wagons and strollers before hopping a small fence to reach Dr. Reynolds. He was already on his way over. I helped him navigate the crowd.

  “Let him through, people!” Freddie ordered again with surprising authority. “And the rest of you stay back!”

  I ushered Dr. Reynolds ahead of me. A small group of people had gathered around the swan. I caught another glimpse of the man collapsed over the side and spotted a shock of white hair. There was also someone in the cart beside him, but Freddie was blocking my view. I couldn’t see who it was.

  Freddie stepped back from the group and pulled out a walkie-talkie attached to his hip belt. “Rhonda,
we need some help out here at the Tunnel of Love. I repeat. We’ve got a Code Blue in the Tunnel of Love.”

  I saw Dr. Reynolds push himself up and step back from the cart. He planted his hands on his hips and shook his head. “I’m afraid we’re already past Code Blue.”

  * * *

  Within minutes the shrill Whup! Whup! of a cop car’s siren pierced the air as the vehicle slowly parted the crowd. An ambulance followed behind. I had stepped back with everyone else to make room.

  A hush fell over the fairgoers, making all the carnival noises glaringly loud. Otter Lake was a small, tight-knit community—fourteen hundred citizens total. You could see the concern mirrored across faces.

  Another few minutes passed before Freddie made his way back over to me, hands in his pockets.

  “Is he really…?”

  “Dead?” Freddie asked, raising his eyebrows. “Yup.”

  “Who is, I mean … was it?” I thought I already knew the answer to that. That white hair curled into a pompadour was pretty distinctive. There was really only one man in town with that rooster’s cut. “Mr. Masterson?”

  “Yup.”

  “Oh no. That’s so sad.” I didn’t really know the man. But again, Otter Lake was a small town and the Mastersons were a fixture. While they didn’t quite rival Freddie’s family in terms of money, they owned Hemlock Estate, a beautiful historic manse slash castle built in the ’20s on a private inlet. I had gone to grade school with their son, Matthew, before they sent him to a private boys’ college.

  “Was it a heart attack?”

  Freddie sucked some air in through his teeth. “Looks like it. They should probably put an age limit on those tunnels—”

  “Oh no!” I looked back to the ride but couldn’t see much. “His poor wife! That’s so awful. Imagine your husband of what? Forty years? Fifty? Dying on you in the Tunnel of Love? That’s kind of romantic … and really horrible.”

  Freddie smacked his lips together. “Yeah, no. He wasn’t with his wife.”

  I blinked. “What?” I felt my brow furrow again. I didn’t stop it this time. “Then who was with him? And why—” I stopped talking a moment to study Freddie’s face. “—why do you look so nervous?”

  Freddie shoved his hands deeper into his pockets. “I’m not sure if I should say anything else—”

  I swatted him.

  “Hey!”

  “Freddie, we both know you’re going to tell me what’s going on. Stop drawing out the moment.”

  His eyes dropped back to mine. “It was Tweety.”

  “Tweety?” I asked, trying to meet Freddie’s eyes, which had gone back to darting. “My Tweety?”

  He nodded.

  Tweety and her identical twin, Kit Kat, were the only other people who lived on the almost thirty-acre island housing my mother’s retreat. Built like wrestlers, they smoked, drank, and lived by the belief that if you didn’t have to kill it, why would you want to eat it? They also found everything my mother did hilarious. They never got tired of it. Basically they were like that one aunt every family seems to have who shows up drunk at funerals wearing red—except in this case there were two of them.

  “Okay, just slow down,” I said, putting my hands up.

  Freddie twisted his mouth to the side then said, “I’m not going fast.”

  “Well, I don’t like what you’re implying with the whole It wasn’t his wife with him.”

  “I didn’t imply anything! Why are you getting mad at me?” Freddie said, going all wide-eyed. Then his face fell. “Although other people might be implying things, which is why Grady put me on crowd control. I think—”

  “Tweety’s not the other-woman type. I’m sure there’s a logic—” I cut myself short. “Crowd control? What are you even talking about?”

  “I was surprised, really,” Freddie said, looking away, “given all our recent issues. I think he wants to impress you.”

  “Freddie, focus!”

  “Rumor has it Tweety and Mr. Masterson may have been doing, how shall I put this?” He made a clicking sound with his tongue. “The no-pants dance.”

  “What?”

  “I’m sorry. I—”

  I put a finger up to Freddie’s face. “One, never say that again.”

  “Geriatric sex is real,” he muttered. “Get used to it.”

  “Stop it. No. And two, there’s no way. That’s just … no.” I folded my arms across my chest. “And three, what does that have to do with crowd control?”

  “We need to keep people moving before they start putting things together. You know how fast rumors spread in this town.” Freddie looked suspiciously at the crowds of fairgoers now moving slowly past the Tunnel of Love. “And this is the twins we’re talking about. Remember when they flipped all the tables in the bingo hall when they thought Mr. Parsons was calling out rigged numbers?”

  I frowned. “I’m pretty sure it was just one table.”

  “And that time they started the food fight at the fish fry when the band wouldn’t take requests.”

  I half chuckled. “Well, yeah, but that band was being pretty unreasonable.”

  “The police also like them for a break-in at Grady’s cousin’s place.”

  “Hey!” I swatted him again on the arm. “You know they were with me, and we didn’t break in. We were taking a look-see, and—”

  “Right. Sure.”

  I mumbled something unpleasant under my breath.

  “Seriously, Erica, Grady specifically told me to keep the crowd moving, and above all else keep Kit Kat away from the scene before—and I quote—all hell breaks loose.”

  I winced. “I get it, but there’s no way you’re going to keep her away. I’m sure their twin powers have already activated.”

  Freddie looked from side to side. “You’re right. She’s probably near.”

  I held up my hands and inhaled deeply. “I think you’re overreacting.”

  Freddie grabbed my arm. “Do you feel it?”

  I rubbed my forehead with my free hand. “No. I feel nothing, Freddie, and, again, we are not doing this on this trip—”

  He leaned in closer. “No, it’s like the whole town’s sitting on a tinder box and anyone could light the match to make it all blow.”

  Suddenly I felt someone walk up behind me.

  “Who croaked?”

  I whirled around. “Kit Kat!”

  Freddie leaned in at my shoulder and whispered, “Kaboom.”

  Chapter Three

  “You saw her coming.”

  “What’s the matter with you?” Kit Kat asked, getting my attention back. “Your top fall off again?”

  My mouth, which I hadn’t realized was open, snapped shut.

  “Glad you’re home,” she added, not overly concerned with my reactions. “Hey, have you seen Tweety? The old bat’s starting to wander, and the beer tent’s opening in ten minutes.”

  “Um.” My eyes flashed to Freddie’s. He shook his head in a quick no.

  Kit Kat’s face suddenly dropped as her eyes landed on the ambulance.

  I grabbed her arm. “No. No. It’s not Tweety,” I said quickly, realizing what she must be thinking. “It’s Mr. Masterson, but Tweety—”

  “A beer! You need a beer, Erica! Go! Have fun,” he said, pushing me in the direction of the tent. “If I see Tweety, I’ll send her along.”

  “What’s the matter with you, Ng?” Kit Kat jumped in. “All that polyester you wearing getting to your brain? I don’t need Erica to take me to the beer tent.”

  “Erica, can I speak to you for a second?” Freddie asked, scratching the side of his face. Before I could answer, he yanked me by the arm and dragged me over to a water gun racing game. “You need to do this for me.”

  “Freddie, I really think you’re blowing this whole thing way out of proportion.”

  “Mrs. Masterson is going to be here any second, and Grady is going to have to tell her that not only is her husband dead, but he was on a pleasure trip with—”
>
  “Two bucks a race,” a man above us interrupted.

  “We’re not playing,” Freddie said quickly without looking up. “We’re having an official conversation. As I was saying—”

  “Then do it somewhere else,” the man pressed. Both Freddie and I looked up this time. The man had a really remarkable handlebar mustache on his overly tanned face, and by the fading tag on his shirt, his name was Rex. “You’re scaring away the customers.”

  Freddie stepped back, cocked his head, and hiked his pants up by the belt. “Um,” he said before licking his lips, “I don’t think you understand. Do you see this uniform?”

  The man sharply puffed some air out of his lips, making his body jump.

  Freddie literally staggered back a step, grabbing my arm for support.

  “Freddie,” I said, with as much calm warning as I could muster. “Take it easy—”

  “I will have you know,” Freddie snapped, stepping up to the counter, “that you are speaking to the CEO of Otter Lake Security, and that I have been specially tasked by the sheriff of this town to—”

  The man put up his hands and waved them out in mock-fear.

  “That’s it.” Freddie lunged for the water pistol anchored to the game table, aimed it up at the man, and squeezed the trigger. A few drops came out the end.

  “It doesn’t work until I turn it on.” The man picked up a pistol and pressed a pedal on the floor with his boot; a spray of water shot out directly at Freddie’s chest. “See?”

  Water splattered all over the front of Freddie’s shirt. I gasped and jumped in front of him to take the rest of the shot. I then planted one hand on Freddie’s chest to push him back while using the other hand to viciously point my candy apple at the man. “Not cool, buddy! Not cool!” I then turned my attention around. “Freddie? Freddie? Focus on me,” I said, patting my chest. “Calm down now. Your eyes, they’re showing too much white. You’re going to hurt yourself.”

  His gaze moved to mine. It took everything in me not to step back from it.