Pumpkin Picking with Murder

by Auralee Wallace

  “I…” I suddenly stopped and looked around at my cart.

  “No, really,” Freddie added. “Good work. Keep going. You’ve almost got them.”

  “Oh, shut up,” I said, collapsing into the seat. “I panicked. She shouldn’t be up there with him!” I gestured to nobody.

  “Well, on the bright side, you might be interested to know that I’ve changed my opinion about you and Grady.”

  “You have?”

  “Yup, you’re made for each other.”

  “Why? Why would you say that?”

  “Look down below.”

  I stood up, gripping the sides of the cart. I bent over to look down … and there was Grady, looking up at me in a cart all his own.

  “Watch out, Erica,” Freddie said drily. “I think he’s gaining on you.”

  Chapter Forty-nine

  “Erica!” Grady shouted up. “I told you we are not done talking!”

  Well … at least I had finally gotten him on the Ferris wheel.

  “Freddie?” I slumped down into the seat of the cart as the wheel took me higher. “Get Rex to stop the ride when Mrs. Masterson makes the next pass. It’s off … the whole thing is off. It’s too risky.”

  “No. No. No. Not yet. Don’t you see, Erica? This is even better. I’m looking at them right now,” Freddie said. “Sully’s about to burst. He’s going to confess. I can see it on his face. We just need to hang on.”

  “Really?”

  “Swear to God.”

  “No, it’s too dangerous, and you should have seen Mrs. Masterson’s face when he came up to her. I don’t think she was in on it.”

  “Erica, he’s not going to hurt her. In his mind he must believe that everything he does is for her.”

  “Said every stalker ever.”

  “Well … point taken. But don’t you see? It’s like an act of God.”

  I shook my head. Yeah, God, I thought, darting a glance over to the evil jack-o’-lantern overlooking our town. I let out a shaky breath. This could be our only chance to exonerate the twins … but it was never the plan to put someone else in danger. “I don’t kn—”

  “Wait! Hush, they’re talking!”

  My eyes flashed up to the bottom of the cart. “What are they saying?”

  “Okay. Okay. It’s nice to see you, Martin. How have you been?” Freddie relayed quickly. “Oh my—Olivia, darling, you don’t have to pretend. We’re alone.”

  I pinched my lips together, waiting for more. When it didn’t come, I said, “Freddie! Keep going—”

  “They’re not saying anything! He’s just looking at her like—Wait!” Another moment passed, then Freddie said in his Mrs. Masterson voice, “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

  “Everything we’ve always wanted, Olivia. Everything we have waited for. It’s here. You’re free of that man. That lying, cheating—” Freddie gasped.

  “What! What!”

  “She slapped him! Oh my God—You will not speak of my husband that way,” Freddie finished back in the dignified feminine voice—which suddenly sounded a little southern.

  “Oh Freddie,” I moaned. We were coming to the ground again. “Tell Rex to stop the ride.”

  “He’s almost there Erica! He’s going to confess!”

  “Freddie—”

  “Listen! After all I’ve done for you. Mick. Your father…” Freddie said, then switched to Olivia’s voice. “You … you killed them!” He switched again. “For you! It was all for you!”

  “That’s it, Freddie! That’s enough! We’ve got to—”

  “Okay, you’re right,” Freddie said quickly. “Rex, stop—Rex?”

  “Freddie?”

  “Rex is gone. He’s gone!”

  “What do you mean, gone?” I slid to the side of my cart just as it was swooping past the platform. Freddie was alone in the little booth. “Where did he go?”

  “I don’t know! Rex?”

  “Erica!” Grady called out. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing good,” I shouted back. “Freddie, what’s happening with Mrs. Masterson?”

  “He’s not happy, Erica. Not happy at all. You lied to me. You led me to believe … She’s saying she has no idea what he’s talking about.” He switched to his female voice. “I never meant for you to think that we were anything more than friends.” Freddie stopped talking a moment, then I heard, “Hey … what are you doing in here?”

  “Freddie?” I shouted. “Who are you talking to?”

  Then just as we were swooping back up to the top of the arch … the Ferris wheel jerked to a stop with a trailing Peeeeuuuwww sound, lights clicking off.

  “Freddie?” I asked, clutching the sides of the cart.

  “Hey! What are—get back here!”

  I put my knees up on the hard seat of the cart and twisted over the backrest to see what was happening.

  “Freddie? Talk to me.”

  “Erica! It’s the pumpkin people.” Freddie’s voice was all jumpy … and the sound was cracking up, like … like he was running! “One of them took the key to the Ferris wheel!”

  “What! Well, get it back!”

  “I’m trying. I—”

  Suddenly my earbud crackled into static.

  My eyes darted over the ground below. Nothing … nothing … nothing. There! I spotted Freddie running after someone. A pumpkin person!

  My eyes snapped back up to the cart above me. Dammit! I couldn’t see anything!

  “Grady!” I yelled, leaning over. “Call Rhonda. The fire department! Everybody! We got a situation up there!”

  “What?”

  “I think Mr. Sullivan—”

  Just then Mrs. Masterson’s scream pierced the air.

  “Help! He’s going to kill me!”

  Chapter Fifty

  Crap! Crap! Crap! I looked up. The entire cart was shaking.

  He was going to kill her … and it was our fault. Maybe if we had just gone to Grady with our suspicions. Maybe if—

  Mrs. Masterson screamed again, but the sound was cut short. I strained to listen. Was that … coughing? No! She was gagging.

  Oh God! He was probably strangling her!

  My eyes flashed back down to Grady. He was yelling into his walkie-talkie.

  Help would never get here in time.

  I took another look up, but I knew I was just delaying. It was pretty clear what I had to do.

  I gripped the sidewalls of my cart before getting to my feet. I then turned and stepped up onto my seat, reaching up and pressing my hand against the underside of the canopy roof of my pod for balance as the cart dipped down with my weight. I slid my fingers to the edge of the roof, found a grip, and put one foot onto the top of the wall that formed the seats.

  “Erica!” I heard Grady shout. “Tell me that is not your foot I’m seeing!”

  I grunted and brought my other foot up—my pod swinging wildly beneath my feet. I gripped the roof tightly and waited for the cart to stop swinging, my eyes darting around.

  Some strange part of my brain was thinking it was almost fitting that the last thing I would ever see was the town and lake all aglow with the carnival lights. And hey! I was finally living in the moment … and it was terrifying!

  “Erica!” Grady’s voice came again. “Get down!”

  “She’s in trouble,” I shouted back. “He’s going to kill her.”

  Mrs. Masterson screamed again just then as though to prove my point.

  “I’m coming up after you!”

  “No! Grady! Don’t touch my cart! I’ll fall!”

  “Dammit, Erica!”

  I stretched one hand farther across the top of the canopy roof, feeling around for anything I could use to pull myself up. Nothing. Crap! I flashed my eyes around at the other carts. It looked like there was a long metal rod that attached each pod to the wheel … but it ran right down the middle of the roof. I couldn’t reach it. I looked around again. Maybe if I could somehow push myself up a little higher …

&nb
sp; I reached my foot out to the scaffolding of the ride. If I planted my foot just right on the metal beam of the wheel and pushed off, I might be able to get enough leverage to heave myself up to the bar running across the roof of my cart.

  I slowly side-shuffled along the top of the cart, then lifted my one foot off the ledge.

  “Erica!” Grady shouted. “Don’t you even think it!”

  I planted my foot against a beam and tested my weight.

  “Erica!”

  I took a breath. Okay, one … two … three!

  I pushed hard against the enormous spoke with my foot—hearing Grady shout—launching myself up and over.

  Got it!

  I scrambled on to the top of the roof.

  Oh, thank God.

  I lay flat on my belly for a moment with my eyes closed before I peeked up at the cart above me. The screaming had stopped, but the cart was still shaking.

  “I’m coming, Mrs. Masterson!” I yelled, pushing myself up to all fours. “Hang on!”

  I brought one foot up … then the other until I was resting in a low squat. Oooh, I did not like that feeling at all. Thankfully, because they were above me, they were farther out on the wheel, which meant if I stood up, right in the middle of my pod, where the balance was the best, I should be able to reach the back lip of theirs.

  “Please, Erica! Stop!” Grady called out again, pleading in his voice. “Help is on its way! You don’t have to do this!”

  “I have to, Grady. I suspected it was him! And I didn’t tell you!”

  I pushed slowly up through the heels of my feet … one hand reaching up for balance …

  Once I was standing, I looked over to the cart above me. Sully had Mrs. Masterson by the neck, her back pinned against the seat, the edge of their pod tilting toward me.

  “I did everything!” he shouted. “Everything was for you!”

  “Hey! Sully!” I shouted.

  Mr. Sullivan snapped his face to mine, features twisted in manic rage.

  “Let her go!”

  Mr. Sullivan looked at me as though he couldn’t believe what I was doing. Me! At least I wasn’t killing someone!

  “This ends now,” he said. “I can’t take anymore.” He pushed Mrs. Masterson farther over the edge of the cart. Her arms flew back over the wall to the side.

  I reached into my pocket and pulled out the Taser. The Taser that Freddie had insisted I bring … when we’d thought I’d be the one in the cart with Mr. Sullivan …

  I flicked it on. The little machine hummed to life.

  I could do this. Her hand was right there. I’d give it to her then drop back down. That’s all. I could do this …

  “Mrs. Masterson!” I screamed, reaching for her hand. “Taser!”

  I felt her fingers close around the small weapon as Sully lunged forward—his hand landing on my shoulder—

  “Erica! No!”

  —pushing me back into nothingness.

  Chapter Fifty-one

  “So, did you see the cover of this morning’s paper?” Freddie asked, pushing open the door to my hospital room.

  “Where the hell have you been?”

  “Whoa,” he said stopping dead in his tracks. “That is one serious cast.”

  “It’s not a cast.” I looked down at the thick fabric contraption that was covering my arm, pinning it to my chest. “Nothing’s broken. A couple of things are torn, though. It’s just to keep my shoulder immobilized, so it doesn’t pop out again.”

  “Ugh, that’s terrible,” Freddie said. “But we have much more important matters to discuss.”

  “Yeah we do,” I said, pushing myself up with my good hand. “Like what the hell happened to you last night?”

  “Not that,” Freddie said. “This.” He tossed the newspaper he was holding over to me. I instinctively moved my hurt right arm to pin it to my lap. Pain rocketed from my shoulder up to my neck. “Oh shoot! Frick! Nutballs!”

  “What are you doing?” Freddie asked. “I thought you weren’t supposed to move it!”

  I gritted my teeth and shot him a glare.

  “Sorry,” he said, wrinkling his nose. “But look at it!”

  I tilted the paper up with my left hand so I could see the headline.

  “Holy crap … they got a picture. I mean … I saw the photographer but…”

  I let the paper drop to my lap and looked up at the ceiling. “I think I’m going to be sick.” My mind flashed back to that horrible, nauseating feeling of Mr. Sullivan pushing me back … back off the roof of the cart … back into the air …

  “Sick?” Freddie shouted, snapping me out of the memory. “Why would you be sick? This is awesome! This changes everything!”

  I tilted the paper up, trying to keep my eyes from the picture that showed my legs dangling in the air from Grady’s cart. The headline ran, HERO SHERIFF SNATCHES FALLING WOMAN FROM FERRIS WHEEL.

  “It’s making the national news,” Freddie added. “My parents saw it online! I told them you were one of my employees. They were suitably impressed, so I don’t think I’ll be moving anytime soon, and Rhonda told me that the morning talk shows are already calling.” He was on a roll now. “I mean, we’ll have to massage the narrative. A better headline would have been SHERIFF ASSISTS OTTER LAKE SECURITY EMPLOYEE IN STOPPING MURDER, or better yet OTTER LAKE SECURITY EMPLOYEE STOPS MURDER ASSISTED BY SHERIFF.”

  “Freddie.” I put up a hand. “I get it.”

  “I think Grady will be pleased, though, now that he’s got his small-town-hero slash quarterback slash Prince Charming card back.” Freddie picked up the paper again and squinted at the photo. “He does kind of look like a brown-haired Thor.”

  I put my free hand over my face.

  In the moment when I had lost my footing, I had been certain I was going to die. In hindsight, I couldn’t help but think it would have been nice if my entire life had flashed before my eyes—well, at least the good parts—but it had all happened so fast. . Thankfully, some part of me knew to reach out as I fell … and I had caught the lip of Grady’s cart right under my arm. It only slowed me for a fraction of a second, but it was long enough for Grady to grab my arm …

  I’ve got you. Hang on, baby. I’ve got you.

  “What?” Freddie asked, snapping me back into the moment. “The near-death thing getting to you?”

  I nodded, closing my eyes.

  I’m not letting you go. Not ever. Not anymore.

  “I know what will cheer you up.”

  I peeked through my fingers.

  “Kit Kat’s awake.”

  “What?”

  “And she’s feeling feisty,” he said. “She ordered a pizza to her room, but I hear she’s not sharing until someone goes on a beer run.”

  “Really?”

  Freddie nodded. “I already showed her the paper. You are in lots of trouble.”

  “That’s wonderful,” I said, feeling the tears come to my eyes. “And Tweety?”

  “Already let her go.”

  “And Mrs. Masterson?” I asked. “Mr. Sullivan?”

  “Recovering … and jailed,” Freddie said, ticking off boxes in the air. “His heart stood up to the shock, so you’re not a killer.”

  “I want to go see Kit Kat,” I said moving to push myself up with my good hand. Pain gripped my chest. Apparently I had a cracked rib too.

  “You can’t.” Freddie flopped into the chair by my bed. “The nurse is with her. She said she’d come get us when she’s done.”

  I settled back against the pillow. “Okay, well, that will give us time to talk.”

  Freddie brought his thumb to his mouth and started chewing on the side of the nail. “Sure,” he mumbled. “About what?”

  I slapped the bed. “About what happened to you last night!”

  He looked out the window.

  “Freddie?”

  He pinched his lips together and shook his head.

  “Look, I nearly died last night—”

  “I feel really
bad about that. I do,” he said. “Even if the publicity is awesome.”

  “Then tell me.”

  “I don’t want to,” he said quickly. “You won’t believe me.”

  “This is ridiculous.” I took a really good look at his face. He hadn’t looked that pale a moment ago … or sweaty. “You look like you have seen a ghost.”

  His face dropped. “How did you—”

  Just then the door to my room opened. “You can see her now.”

  Freddie and I whipped our heads around.

  The nurse, standing in the doorway, repeated a little more uncertainly, “You can see her now?”

  “We’ll be right there,” Freddie answered quickly.

  I shot him a look. “This isn’t over.”

  After getting lost a few times, we finally found Kit Kat’s room. Tweety was already inside.

  “Well, well, well, if it isn’t Frick and Frack, Detective Edition,” Kit Kat croaked from her bed. “Pizza?” She patted the box beside her.

  I waved her off but returned her smile.

  Tweety planted a hand on the armrest of her chair to turn and face us. “Rhonda tells me you worked pretty hard to get yourself killed last night, Erica.”

  “She the one who dropped you off?” I asked, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

  She nodded. “Also told me we have you two to thank for getting ol’ Sully to expose himself.”

  Her sister snorted.

  “Not exactly,” I muttered. “He beat us to the punch.”

  Freddie swatted me, but at least it was on the good arm. “Why do you always have to do that?”

  “What?”

  “Last time it was all We didn’t technically solve the murder.”

  I peered up at Freddie. “Is that my voice you’re doing right now? ’Cause I don’t think I sound like that.”

  “And now you’re all He beat us to the punch,” Freddie said, waving his hands in the air then letting them drop with disgust. “I’m trying to run a business here.”

  “As I was saying,” I said, turning back to the twins. “I’m just glad I was there for Mrs. Masterson. Then again, we probably should have told Grady our suspicions right away and maybe—”

  “Quibbling!” Freddie shouted.

  “So now that Sully’s confessed to Mr. Masterson’s, Mr. Clarke’s, and Mr. Ramsbottom’s murders, I guess—”