Pumpkin Picking with Murder

by Auralee Wallace

  “Erica, honey. I mean this with love,” she said before pausing a moment. I waited for the inevitable warning to leave it alone, but instead she said, “You smell like dirt. Go let Rhonda watch you shower.”

  * * *

  After about half an hour of turning everything over in my mind, I decided a shower might not be a bad idea … but not because I smelled like dirt.

  I called Rhonda, and she was more than happy to let me out. I think all this arresting of friends and neighbors was starting to get to her. As we walked down the hall to the employee bathroom, I asked, as subtly as I could, “Rhonda, do you guys keep track of everyone who comes into the building?”

  “All visitors,” she said. “The rest, I just keep note of up here.” She tapped the side of her head.

  “Anyone come to visit Tweety yesterday?”

  “Nope. Not that I recall.”

  “I don’t suppose you’d let me take a look at that list?” I asked, raising my eyebrows.

  She smiled. “I don’t suppose you’d tell me why?”

  I stopped walking to meet Rhonda’s eye. As eccentric as Rhonda could be, she did on occasion have a sort of canny insight into things. “I think maybe the real murderer came to visit Tweety yesterday. Maybe dropped something off to her? While she was sleeping?”

  She furrowed her brow. “I wasn’t on the desk all of yesterday,” she said, letting the sentence trail before she added, “but I’ll look into it.”

  “Thank you.” I gave her wrist a squeeze with my cuffed hand. “Don’t suppose we could look at the list together now?”

  She squeezed me back. “Don’t suppose you’d tell me why you think the murderer was here yesterday?”

  I pinched my lips together. Part of me did want to tell Rhonda everything Tweety had said, but I couldn’t stomach that big a betrayal. Besides, Rhonda might actually believe all this ridiculousness about Kit Kat killing Mr. Ramsbottom back in the day—and then this mess would get even uglier. “No … I don’t suppose I could.”

  “Didn’t think so,” Rhonda said, leading me a few more steps. “You know, it’s none of my business, but I’m still hoping the two of you make it work.” She flicked her eyes over to Grady’s office. The door was shut, but I could see him through the window, sitting behind his desk, face lit up from the glow of the computer screen.

  “He’s done, Rhonda,” I said, feeling my chest tighten. “He told me so.”

  She scoffed. “He’s not done. But would it kill you to make it a little easier for him?”

  I sighed.

  “You and Freddie breaking all these laws right under his nose? Grave digging? It’s embarrassing. He’s sheriff!”

  “I know. I know.” Just then Grady looked over to us. I could see his eyes soften with concern. It almost looked like he was going to get up … but as quickly as the moment came, it passed. He looked back at the computer. “It’s not like I’m going out of my way to destroy our relationship. Despite what he may think.” I waved my cuffed hands in his direction. “I’m just really worried about the twins.”

  “I get it,” she said with a sigh. “I don’t like how this all seems to be playing out myself. Tweety confessing? Doesn’t make sense. Now Kit Kat in the hospital? And just so you know, we are working on it.” She shook her head. “The fates do seem to be against you two. It would almost be romantic if you weren’t so…”

  “Old?” I offered. “Freddie says we’re too old for this to be cute.”

  “I was going to go with stupid.” She shrugged. “Sorry. All this is really frustrating for me to watch. I’m still rooting for you, though. He’s a good guy. I want him to be happy. And when you’re not acting like a complete loon, you seem to do that for him.” Her eyes flashed to mine, worried. “And vice versa, of course.”

  I gave her a sad smile.

  “I’ll see if I can put in a good word for you,” she said. “I think you’d have cute kids.”

  I laughed. “Well thanks, but I’m not sure it will do much good.”

  “You don’t know that. Just think of me as your Fairy Godmother,” she said. “Now let’s get you cleaned up.”

  * * *

  Rhonda trusted me enough to stand outside the door of the washroom, so at least I got to shower in private. She also lent me some things to wear while she washed my grave-digging clothes. But despite all her consideration, and the sleeping bag, I couldn’t sleep. My mind was turning most of the night, and every time I did start to doze, I dreamed a skeleton was grabbing my arm.

  “Rise and shine.”

  I blinked my eyes open.

  “What’s going on?” I asked, forcing the words through the thickness in my throat. “Why are you getting us up so early?”

  “You’re free,” Rhonda said, putting the keys in the door. “I thought you’d want to get out of here asap.”

  “What?” I asked, pushing myself up. “I haven’t even called my uncle Jack yet.” I thought given the amount of pro bono work I was pushing in his direction, he at least deserved the night off.

  “Just between you and me,” she began, bringing a hand up to cover the side of her mouth, “Grady was up all night looking into records, trying to find a way to spring you.”

  I wiped the corner of my mouth. “He was?”

  “Uh-huh,” she said. “He’s sleeping like a cute little puppy in his office now.”

  “How? I don’t understand…”

  “Olivia Masterson never got the proper permission from the town to bury her father on the property. It’s an illegal grave site. So technically you and Freddie just dug up a box. Vandalism at best. It’s her fault there’s a dead body in it. Grady already talked to Matthew, and he’s backing your story about him giving you permission to dig up the … box. I don’t think Mrs. Masterson wants anyone knowing about this for obvious reasons.” Rhonda swung the door open. “So for the moment, she’s not pressing charges. You’re free to go.”

  I hauled up my stiff body.

  “You get going,” Tweety said, slapping me on the hip. “Check in at the hospital. Make sure Kit Kat is okay.”

  “Got it.”

  “And Erica,” Tweety said, voice full of warning. “I meant what I said last night. You need—”

  “Yeah. Yeah. Stay out of it. I know,” I said. “But I meant what I said last night too, and—”

  “What was it you said last night?” Rhonda asked, nonchalantly scratching the back of her neck.

  “I—” I tore my eyes away from her and back to Tweety. “I don’t buy it. And I’m going to find out the truth.”

  Rhonda shut the barred door and turned the lock as I hurried down the hall.

  I heard Tweety shout intentionally loud enough for me to hear, “Rhonda, you need to keep an eye on her. Lord only knows who she’ll dig up next.”

  Just as I made it down the hallway, I saw Freddie heading out the front doors.

  “Hey! Wait up!” I hurried my step, taking just one quick peek in on Grady. He was asleep on his couch. The furrow in his brow I had been seeing a lot of lately still hadn’t disappeared. I resisted the urge to go in there and rub it away. I’d probably get myself arrested for assault. “Freddie!” I pushed out the front doors after him. “Freddie?”

  He stopped on the stairs but didn’t turn.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “What’s the matter?” he asked, spinning on me. “What’s the matter?”

  My eyes scanned him. He did not look good. Face haggard. Eyes definitely bloodshot. “Sleep well?”

  He didn’t answer right away. Just gaped at me.

  I took a step back in preparation for what I thought might be coming.

  “I slept in the basement of a prison. After digging up a grave. No, I did not sleep well! I still have grave dirt down my pants!”

  “Well, you could have showered—”

  “I am not showering in front of Rhonda Cooke!”

  “Freddie, what happened?” I asked. “You weren’t this upset last night.�
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  “That’s because I was high on the adrenaline you were pushing. I wasn’t thinking clearly. I’m still not.” He clutched his head. “This is all happening so fast.”

  “No, no. Something’s not right here,” I said. “You love the adrenaline.”

  “Well, adrenaline has a cost, Erica, and I’m paying it.”

  “What does that even mean?” I asked, studying his face some more. “Seriously, did something happen?”

  Freddie planted his hands on his hips then looked off to the side of the building shaking his head. “Fine. Yes.”

  “What?”

  He sighed, but it came out more as a shudder. “Grady … called my parents.”

  I gasped. I suddenly found myself looking around for my mother. Most likely she would have chained herself to a tree to protest my imprisonment. Thankfully they were all bare. “He didn’t!”

  “He did,” Freddie said in a shaky voice. “I’m in big trouble, Erica. I only talked to them briefly, but my dad said something about maybe selling my home.”

  “No!”

  Freddie moved one hand to clutch his forehead. “Why did I have to make that pig sound? That’s what this is really all about, you know … and Lightning.” He dropped his eyes to mine. “Which I have to say makes me wonder about, you know, compensation issues. You should check that out before you buy the cow so to speak.”

  “You’re the one who bought the boat!” I waved my hands in the air. “We’re getting off track. What did Grady say to you?”

  “He said, and I quote, Freddie, you need to check yourself before you wreck yourself.”

  My face dropped. “He did not say that.”

  “Well, not exactly in those words, but that was the message.” Freddie ran his hands over his eyes. “What am I going to do, Erica?”

  “It’s going to be okay. The charges have been dropped. We just carry on with the investigation and—”

  “What? Carry on? No, no, no. Did you not hear me? I need to walk the straight and narrow.”

  I grabbed his shoulders. “No, that’s the last thing you need to do. We need to solve this case. We need to help the twins. You won’t believe what Tweety told me last night.” His eyes flickered with curiosity. “And you need to show your parents the success you’re going to make of Otter Lake Security.”

  Freddie studied my face for a moment. “Our relationship has been taking some strange turn as of late, Erica.”

  “You gotta trust me on this. I’ve got a lead … and it’s a hot one.”

  He didn’t say anything, but I could sense his interest growing.

  “If it pans out, it could break this whole case wide open.”

  “You’re talking like a gumshoe detective.”

  “Do you want me to stop?”

  He shook his head no.

  “This is just one minor setback on your journey, Freddie…”

  His gaze tightened.

  “… your journey to greatness.”

  “You had better not be messing with me.”

  “Inside that building,” I said, pointing back to the doors, “is a list. And on that list is a name … the name of a murderer.”

  “How could you possibly know that?”

  I told him as quickly as I could all that Tweety had said.

  “Wait, wait, wait! So Kit Kat did kill Mr. Ramsbottom?”

  “No, well, Tweety thinks she might have after some sort of lovers’ quarrel—”

  “What!”

  “Well, I don’t believe it, but Tweety does, and she’ll do anything to protect her sister.”

  “Oh my God,” Freddie said, grabbing his head again. “That’s so sweet. And messed up. This is all too much!”

  “Look, we don’t have time for you to process everything right now,” I said, giving his shoulders another shake. “We need that name before Tweety signs that stupid confession. This situation needs a hero.”

  He didn’t say anything, but I knew I was getting to him.

  “What I need you to do is cause a distraction. Get Rhonda to come outside so I can sneak in to take a look at that list. Can you do that, Freddie? Can you cause a distraction?”

  He held his straight face for a moment longer, but then he mumbled, “Can I cause a distraction? Can I cause a…” He trailed off as he pushed past me to walk up the stairs to the sheriff’s department. He then shouted in a voice louder than I would have thought possible, “I will burn this place to the ground!”

  Chapter Forty-four

  I scurried over to the bushes that lined the stairs and ducked behind them. I hadn’t expected Freddie to start off with such a bang, but there was nothing to do but go with it. I ground my feet into the dirt and crouched down between the bush and brick wall, pushing away the thin braches scratching at my neck.

  “I demand justice!”

  I peeked through the branches. Freddie had his arms spread wide and was turning in a slow circle. My eyes darted to the doors. No sign of Rhonda yet. Hopefully, Grady was a heavy sleeper.

  “I say, I say,” Freddie shouted, suddenly slipping into his southern accent—he really must be tired—“is this the United States of America? Or is this Communist Russia?”

  I looked at the doors again. Still nothing.

  Freddie turned to where I was hiding in the bushes and started to shrug but cut it off with a jolt when the doors swung open.

  “Freddie! What are you doing?” Rhonda shout-whispered, speed-walking outside. “You just got out!”

  “I don’t know,” he said putting his hand to his forehead. “But I’m not feeling well. Maybe I didn’t drink enough prison water. I feel f—” And just like that, Freddie hit the ground in what I hoped was a break fall. Rhonda rushed over and started to smack his cheeks. I half stood to make sure he was okay. His left hand shot me a thumbs-up.

  Go time.

  I frog-walked out of the bushes, then ran in a crouch to the front doors. I swung the door open just enough so that I could slide through, then dropped to my hands and knees. Hopefully Grady was still asleep, but I couldn’t take any chances. I needed to stay below the bottom frame of his office window.

  I scuttled toward the front desk, only stopping to take one quick look behind me. Rhonda was talking on her shoulder walkie-talkie thing, probably calling an ambulance, by the look of Freddie’s protesting hand waves. Oh boy.

  I peeked up over the desk. Okay, so Rhonda wasn’t exactly a clean freak. I shuffled through the scattered papers, every now and then darting a glance over to Grady’s office. No sign.

  Come on. Come on.

  I lifted my head again to look outside.

  Was that a fire truck?

  I reshuffled the papers. Seriously, where was the stupid—

  Bingo! Sign-in ledger.

  I ran my finger down the column of dates.

  Dammit! Nothing for yesterday. Either the murderer snuck in—which seemed highly improbable, given that the only entrance to the hallway that led to Tweety’s cell was from the front foyer—or it was someone who came to the prison so often that they weren’t considered a visitor at all …

  I brushed the grit from the floor off my hands before planting them back down to get dirty all over again. I scurried back around the desk. I needed to get out of here before—

  Just then the front doors swung open. Rhonda stalked in, muttering, “Freddie and his freaking jail water—Erica!”

  Chapter Forty-five

  “Hi, Rhonda,” I whispered, waving at her … squatted right below Grady’s office window.

  “What are you—” She gasped so loudly I thought her lungs might collapse in on themselves. “You were looking for the list!” she whispered with a point back toward the desk. “I told you I’d look into it! You’re not helping! Not with Tweety’s case! Not with him!”

  “I know. I just—”

  Her point swung to Grady’s office. “Are you trying to kill him! I told you he can’t take much more!”

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper
ed back. Then I had another thought. My brow furrowed. “But you know, it’s not like he’s some sort of endangered bird. I think—”

  I stopped when I saw Rhonda’s eyes roll up to the window.

  “Everything all right?” I heard Grady’s voice call out.

  Rhonda nodded silently.

  “You released Erica?”

  Her eyes dropped back down to mine. “You’re lucky I’m a romantic,” she muttered.

  “Sorry?” Grady asked.

  “Nothing, boss. She’s gone.”

  “Good.” A moment later, he added, “She tell you anything we could use to help Tweety? It’s certainly not like she’d tell me.”

  I rolled my eyes. That was so unfair. I wanted to tell him stuff, and I would … if he’d stop throwing me in jail.

  “Well,” Rhonda said, hooking her thumbs through her belt loops. “She seems to think the real killer made a visit to Tweety yesterday.”

  “What? Here?”

  “But she pulled another Erica and wouldn’t tell me why.”

  My jaw dropped, but Rhonda flashed me a clear What are you going to do about it? look.

  “Okay, get me a list of everyone who has been in this building for the last forty-eight hours.”

  “Well, that’s the thing,” Rhonda said. “I’ve already looked at the ledger. Nobody’s on the list.”

  I heard Grady growl—much closer to the window than he had been just moments before. I inched my way toward the exit just as his door opened. I froze.

  “What do you mean nobody’s on the list? I—never mind. Question the new kid, Amos. He was on the desk yesterday. I want to know everybody who came through that door. Office deliveries. UPS. Medical supplies. The server from the Dawg. And by the way, no more takeout for Tweety. She’s going to have a coronary in that cell. Call my mom. She offered to make her a real meal.”

  Rhonda nodded. “So you think Erica and Freddie are onto something?”

  “The crime-fighting duo usually is.” His voice sounded quieter this time, like he had moved back farther into his office.

  I slid again toward the doors, but Rhonda held up a finger for me to wait. “You know, boss, Erica seems to think you meant it when you said you two were through.”