“Okay, maybe it wasn’t pow. I just kind of lashed out … a flail really. Seriously, what would you have done if you turned to see a pumpkin person staring you in the face?”
“Still, Freddie—”
“Let me finish, you who are suddenly so concerned for the youth of this town,” he muttered.
“Well, you can’t go around flailing out at teenagers.”
“This was not a teenager,” Freddie said. “Or at least, no mortal one.”
I swallowed and waited for him to continue.
“So when I felt that hand on my shoulder, I whipped around and my hand shot out before I even knew what I was doing—right into the rotten folds of that huge pumpkin face!”
My hand flew to my mouth. “Oh my God.”
“And when those wet pumpkin pieces settled…” he said, stopping to take a sip of beer.
“When the pumpkin pieces settled what?”
“There was nothing there…”
“What do you mean, nothing?”
“I mean, the body fell to the ground, but there was no head. It wasn’t a person in a mask, Erica. It was a ghost,” he said huskily, “and I killed it.”
My jaw dropped a moment … it snapped it back up … then dropped again.
“That’s right, Erica. It was already dead … or maybe it was never even alive.” Freddie took another sip. “Kind of like your relationship with Grady.”
I hurled a splash of beer in Freddie’s direction.
“Hey!” he said, flinging his arms out. “Okay, well, I might have deserved that.”
“I’ve got brownies!” my mother called out.
“Oh God,” Freddie murmured. “Please let them be the special kind.”
Chapter Fifty-three
The next morning, I got up early and went into town to look for Grady. I thought about calling him again for the thousandth time, but an apology only seemed right in person. I hadn’t trusted him … and I should have. That mistake had almost cost Mrs. Masterson her life. It had almost cost me mine. I didn’t think I could say the words without seeing him … without being able to look him in the eye. I went to his house, and then the station, but I couldn’t find him.
I pushed leaving back as long as I could, but it was time to go. I had to stop by the retreat to say good-bye to my mother before Freddie dropped me off at the closest dock to the bus stop on the other side of the lake. I’d just call Grady from Chicago. He was obviously trying to avoid me … which didn’t surprise me all that much. What had happened at the Ferris wheel had been harrowing, and I was willing to bet once all the adrenaline had died down, he had remembered that I was the one who had put myself in all that danger. We both probably needed some time to think about what we wanted to say.
I climbed into Freddie’s boat docked at the marina and sat in the passenger’s seat. I brought my fingers to my mouth to blow some warm air on them. Man, it was getting cold. Freddie was supposed to meet me here any minute. I looked around the boat to see if maybe he had left his jacket when I heard, “Erica!”
I froze. I knew that Erica.
My head snapped up.
And there he was … Grady, trotting across the marina parking lot, hand in the air.
I jumped to my feet and eased out of the boat using my good hand for balance. I walked back down the long dock, shaking the nerves out of my fingers. My heart was beating so loudly I could barely hear.
When I got closer to the end, I had to sidestep two men I recognized but couldn’t quite remember the names of. They nodded before heading off on one of the dock’s branches. Just before they got out of range, I heard one of the men say, “Yeah, someone tore apart my wife’s scarecrow in the corn maze if you can believe it.”
“Really?”
“Looked like it had been punched in the face,” the first man said. “She worked on that thing for two weeks.”
I stopped and looked back at them, catching, “Kids. You should tell Sheriff Forrester. He’ll get to the bottom of it.”
I chuckled, shaking my head as I approached Grady.
“What’s that smile for?”
“Oh,” I said. “I was just eavesdropping.” I tilted my head in the direction of the two men. “They were just talking about what a great sheriff this town has.”
Grady smiled and looked down to his feet.
“Must feel good.”
He peered up at me from under his hat. “Doesn’t feel bad.” He took a step closer. “I’m so glad I found you. How’s the arm?” he asked, reaching out his fingertips to brush the fabric of the brace.
“Better,” I said. “You know, a dislocated shoulder’s a small price to pay.”
“I keep going over and over it in my head. I wish I had caught you around the waist or—”
“Grady,” I said, reaching out to touch his arm. “You saved my life.”
He sighed. “I wanted to talk to you. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking and—”
“I wanted to talk to you, Grady. I need to apologize. You were right. I’ve got trust issues, and—”
Before I realized what was happening, Grady stepped forward, closing the distance between us, and slid both hands behind the back of my neck. His fingertips ran up into my hair as he pulled me in for a kiss.
A few glorious moments later, he pulled away.
If he hadn’t been there to steady me, I would have fallen into the water.
“Now, that is a much better first kiss,” Grady said quietly. “Let’s just forget the last one.”
I blinked a few times then mumbled, “What was that for?”
“Stay.”
“I’m sorry?” I asked, trying to catch a rhythm with my breath.
“Stay.”
“I have to—” I looked behind me back at Lightning, trying to remember what it was I had to do. “—the bus. I’m going to miss it.”
“No, you don’t.”
I blew out some air. “Okay, I don’t know what’s going on right now, but the way you keep saying that … with that look in your eye … it’s making it really hard for me to think straight. What exactly do you mean—”
“I mean stay.”
“I know we should talk,” I said, shaking my head. “But Freddie’s going to be here any minute to take me to the bus stop. I have to get back to work—”
“No, I don’t mean for just right now. I mean, stay,” he said, pointing to the ground. “Here. In Otter Lake.”
“What?”
“Erica,” he said, pushing his hat up on his head. “What happened on that Ferris wheel. I nearly lost you … and it brought a lot of things into really clear focus.”
“Grady, we can’t. You can’t…” I grabbed my forehead, like that would help me think. This was all happening so fast.
“I want to be with you Erica. All the time.”
“No,” I said. “No, you don’t mean that. You’re just saying that because—” I snapped my fingers. “It’s just like what they say in that movie about couples getting together because of intense experiences. It never works.”
“Erica, I don’t care what the movie says.”
I pointed at him. “You gotta stop looking at me like that.”
“Why?”
I threw my hands in the air. “What about all you said about my trust issues … and not believing in you?”
“We can talk about all that. I might have been blowing those things out of proportion. We just really need to have a decent conversation—”
I gasped and pointed at him again. “Rhonda told you that.”
He shrugged. “I had a talk with her this morning. It turns out Rhonda has some pretty good insight into relationships. She also said she’d kick my ass if I didn’t fix this.”
“But Grady…” I scrambled to try to put my thoughts together. “My life is in Chicago.”
He stepped toward me again. I stepped back … but he just stepped forward again! “You’ve been telling me that Chicago’s not your home. That you feel disconnected th
ere.”
That was true. I had said that. “But where would I live? The retreat? With my mom?”
“There are other options…” he began with a shrug.
“No, don’t even say it.” I pointed at him again sharply. “We are not there … yet.”
“We’ll figure it out,” he said, reaching for my good hand. “I don’t care what it takes.”
I snatched my hand away. “My job! What would I do here?”
Grady inhaled deeply. “You … you could work with Freddie.”
“What!”
“I know what the town’s paying him.” He shook his head. “And Honey Cove has even expressed some interest in Otter Lake Security, but … never mind that right now. That point is he can afford to take you on. Or partner with you. He needs a partner. Too much power isn’t good for him.”
“Did you hit your head on the Ferris wheel?” I asked, tipping up his hat. “I can’t believe you’re saying this.”
“It would have to be different, though. One of you needs to work toward getting a private investigator license or something … and you need to work with Rhonda and me, not against us.”
“This is nuts.”
“No. What’s nuts is you leaving again.” He reached out to touch my face.
“Grady, I—”
“Erica!” a voice screamed. “Stop them!”
Both Grady and I turned to see who had yelled just as three teenage boys zoomed by us on the dock, nearly knocking us to the water.
Three boys wearing pumpkin heads.
“Erica!”
I looked past Grady to see Freddie running toward us.
“Stop them! They’ve got my keys!”
My head whipped back around to Lightning. Yup, all three boys had jumped in. A moment later the boat roared to life, Miami Vice theme song blaring.
Freddie slowed his run to a stop as he reached us. “Lightning!”
Grady stepped back toward the parking lot, bringing his shoulder walkie-talkie to his mouth. “I’ll get Rhonda on it.”
“Don’t pretend like you’re not happy about this, Forrester!” Freddie shouted with a wicked point.
Grady put his hands up as he continued to back away, the tiniest gleam of something in his eyes.
Freddie and I turned back to the water, eyes on the fading trail of yellow zipping across the lake.
Freddie’s eyes turned to mine. “Do you think they’ll hurt her?”
“No, no,” I said, tearing my eyes away to pat him on the shoulder. “It’s probably just a joyride.”
His shoulders dropped a little. “Okay. You’re right. But … but is it just me … or are they getting too close to the shore?”
My head whipped back around. Oh … oh, no. They were getting a little close.
“Erica? Erica! They’re going too fast!”
“They’re losing control! Bail!” I shouted across the lake, hands by the sides of my mouth. “Bail!”
Just then the three boys jumped off the boat right before a god-awful crack ripped across the lake.
“Oh my God!” I yelled, clutching Freddie’s arm. “Are they okay?”
Grady ran up beside us. “One … two … and there’s three,” he said, pointing out the heads bobbing in the water. “I … I think they’re good, but I’ll let Rhonda know. She’s almost there.” I saw the police boat coming from across the lake.
Freddie’s eyes slowly turned to mine. “Tell me that did not just happen.”
I looked back at the scene. Yup, Lightning had run right up on the shore. It looked … as though she might have even landed in a tree.
Grady turned away again to talk into his radio again.
“It never could have lasted,” I tried. “Not really.”
Freddie didn’t move.
“She was too good for this lake. For all of us.”
“Oh, just stop it!” Freddie yelled. “You never loved her!”
“I … I liked her! We were working our way toward something like lo—”
“Stop it. Just stop—” He snapped his mouth shut, eyes darting over my shoulder.
I turned. Grady had his arms out to Freddie … open for a hug?
“It’s not her fault, Freddie. She just doesn’t understand,” he said, waving him in with his fingers. “To her she was just a machine.”
“That’s not—” I stopped myself. “Actually that’s a pretty accurate statement.”
Freddie froze for a moment then shuffled over to Grady’s embrace. Grady patted him on the back … a little awkwardly … but patted nonetheless. Freddie, on the other hand, had his arms wrapped tightly around Grady, head against his chest.
A moment later, he looked over to me and mumbled, “You’re going to have to find another ride to the bus stop. I can’t even…”
“It’s okay,” I said, flashing my eyes back to Grady.
He was looking at me from over Freddie’s head, smile on his face.
“I don’t know that I’m in that much of a hurry after all.”
Coming soon …
Don’t miss the next novel in the delightful Otter Lake mystery series
Snowed IN With MURDER
Available in February 2017
from St. Martin’s Paperbacks
Also by Auralee Wallace
Skinny Dipping with Murder
Praise for Skinny Dipping with Murder
“A delightful mystery with laugh-out-loud moments, a touch of romance, and a fun, sassy style. Readers will enjoy every moment spent in Otter Lake.”
—Diane Kelly, award-winning author
“A frolicking good time … with a heroine who challenges Stephanie Plum for the title of funniest sleuth.”
—Denise Swanson, New York Times bestselling author
“Time spent with the folks in Otter Lake is well worthwhile, with writing that is witty, contemporary, and winning.”
—Kirkus Reviews
“A wonderfully entertaining read!”
—RT Book Reviews
About The Author
Auralee Wallace has played many roles in her life, including college professor, balloon seller, and collections agent. When this semi-natural blonde mother of three children (and psychiatric nurse to two rescue cats) isn’t writing humorous novels about quirky characters, she can often be found pontificating about the Golden Age of soap operas or warring with a family of peregrine falcons for the rights to her backyard. You can sign up for email updates here.
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Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
/> Chapter Thirty-three
Chapter Thirty-four
Chapter Thirty-five
Chapter Thirty-six
Chapter Thirty-seven
Chapter Thirty-eight
Chapter Thirty-nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-one
Chapter Forty-two
Chapter Forty-three
Chapter Forty-four
Chapter Forty-five
Chapter Forty-six
Chapter Forty-seven
Chapter Forty-eight
Chapter Forty-nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-one
Chapter Fifty-two
Chapter Fifty-three
Praise for Skinny Dipping with Murder
Also by Auralee Wallace
About the Author
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
PUMPKIN PICKING WITH MURDER
Copyright © 2016 by Auralee Wallace.
Cover illustration © Monika Roe
Author Photo © Andrea Whittle
All rights reserved.
For information address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.
www.stmartins.com
eISBN: 978-1-4668-8994-1
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St. Martin’s Paperbacks edition / September 2016
St. Martin’s Paperbacks are published by St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.
Pumpkin Picking with Murder Page 28
