“Only that Sarah’s husband is out of town, which rules him out as a potential suspect,” Ryan replied.
Heather stared at the small house, with its white shutters and bricked walls. “That’s not necessarily true. He could’ve hired someone to murder his wife.”
“With a pumpkin decoration?” Ryan asked. “Unlikely. This fits the bill for a crime of passion. And from what I’ve heard, there wasn’t much passion in the Kenny marriage.”
Heather noted that down then gestured to the house. “There were so many people at that party. There’s no way to rule everyone out. Unless – what about the surveillance cameras?”
“I hoped you’d ask,” Ryan replied, and his eyes lit up. “The plot thickens, my love. The cameras on the balcony were deactivated.”
“No footage of anyone entering the room which held the controls?” Heather asked, and ran her fingers over the dried ink of her notes. She admired the flowers in the beds beneath the windows.
Colorful pinks and reds. Verbenas? No, that couldn’t be right.
“Nothing. Whoever did this moved through the blind spots of the cameras.”
“Oh, my. So, they knew the house. Or they’d been given detailed information…” Heather trailed off and stared at the flowerbed.
“What is it?” Ryan asked and followed her line of sight.
“Footprints,” Heather said, and pointed at the accusing marks.
Two flat shoe prints peered out from the mud between the flowers. Heather hurried to the spot and crouched beside them. Ryan followed her and braced his fists on his knees, notepad and pen clutched in either hand.
“Man’s shoes,” Heather said. “Looks like trainers?” Her gaze traveled to the wall and then the window above it. She popped up right and peered through into a bedroom.
Pink flowers plastered the walls matched by an equally girly bedspread on a double bed. An image of a unicorn in a frame sat on a desk, beside a PC. The word ‘Kenster’ had been pasted on the wall above it, in blocky letters.
“It’s the teenage daughter’s room,” Heather said. “What does that mean?”
“Her name is Kenster?” Ryan asked, and scratched his forehead.
“Don’t even get me started,” Heather replied. “Why would the killer have hung out outside the teenager’s room?”
“Maybe she was the intended victim?” Ryan asked. “We’ve already got security detail watching the house on Mr. Kenny’s request. He’s on his way back from his business trip to Ohio.”
“Right, but that doesn’t make sense at all,” Heather said. “It was a crime of passion, otherwise why the decoration?”
“Maybe the shoe prints aren’t connected to the crime.” Ryan flipped his notepad shut, then put it in his top pocket.
“Maybe. Maybe not. But there’s more to this than meets the eye.” Heather looked down at those prints again. “And I intend on finding out what.”
“Don’t you always?” Ryan asked, then pecked her on the cheek. “Let’s wrap it up for now. I’ve got an appointment with the Cap at the station.”
“Problems?” Heather flipped her notepad shut too.
“Not really,” Ryan replied, then chuckled. “Davidson is trying to sue the department. He’s failing. But, we still gotta talk about it and how to avoid situations like this in future.”
Heather shrugged, then turned her back to the window and walked toward the front of the house.
A pumpkin decoration and creepy shoe prints in the flower bed. This sounded more like a Halloween movie than a murder case.
Chapter 7
Heather and Amy stood side-by-side in their matching witch outfits and grinned at Lilly Jones. She grinned right back, then tipped her hat toward them.
“Good evening, ladies,” she said, in a deep voice.
Heather’s heart grew two sized. “You look amazing,” she said.
Lilly turned on the spot then gave Heather a thumbs up. She wore plain brown shorts, a white t-shirt, a fedora and carried a whip. Indiana Jones had nothing on her.
“You’re taking us on an adventure, aren’t you?” Amy asked.
“Obviously,” Lilly replied, and accepted a trick or treat plastic pumpkin bucket from Heather. “Prepare for the night of your lives!” She proclaimed. “What’s our first stop?”
Heather chuckled, then placed her palm on Lilly’s back. They walked out of the front door and down the stairs. “I thought we could stop by Eva’s house first. You know, give her a nice surprise?”
“She’d love seeing you in your costume,” Amy replied.
“I can crack my whip!” Lilly jostled her accessory. “I’ve been practicing all afternoon.”
“She’ll love that,” Heather replied.
They walked down the garden path and onto the sidewalk together. The early evening scattered purple magic across the horizon. Men, women, and children walked down the road together, in different costumes.
They passed a Superman, a Doc McStuffins, and a grinning pumpkin, then took a left and continued down the road.
“I love Halloween,” Amy said and inhaled.
The houses on either side of the road flaunted their Halloween decorations. Skeletons and glowing lanterns, ghosts, and ghouls, bugs and bones, all offset by creepy lighting and even a fog machine in one garden.
“Oh wow,” Lilly said and pointed. “We have to come back here.”
“We will,” Heather replied. They hurried up the path to Eva’s porch, then climbed the stairs and knocked on her front door.
“Trick or treat!” Lilly called out.
An evil laugh boomed from a speaker beside the door. Lilly’s eyes widened and glinted by the candlelight from a jack-o-lantern.
The door creaked inward and Eva Schneider emerged in full creepy, zombie costume. “Why have you come?” She said, but her façade broke a second later. “Oh Lilly, dear, you look wonderful.”
“I’m Lilliana Jones!” The girl cried and unrolled her whip.
“Heather, doesn’t she look adorable?” Eva asked.
“She does. The best costume I’ve seen so far.”
Lilly pulled a muscle, then burst into laughter. She turned on the spot again, then lifted the whip. “I’ll show you how I can crack it, later.”
“I look forward to it, dear,” Eva said, then scratched at her zombie makeup. “But, oh my, where’s Dave? I hoped you’d dress him up this year.”
“Dave!” Heather cried. “How could I forget?” She’d been so preoccupied with Lilly’s appearance, she’d totally forgotten the second best costume of the night, and the best-dressed dog in all of Hillside. “You guys stay here. I’ll go fetch him, quick.”
Heather turned on her heel and dashed down the stairs. Her witch heels clicked on the wood and then on the concrete.
She’d bought Dave an eight-legged spider costume after Lilly had shown her a viral video of someone else’s dog scaring people in an elevator. He looked the part.
She rushed down the road, past the ghosts and costumed kids, then stopped dead.
A familiar figure stood on the corner. Heather shrank back, behind a tree and focused on the girl. Her dark hair fell down her back in waves, and she wore a pair of jeans and a magenta shirt.
“Kenster!” A man called out from across the road. He hurried toward the teenager, then stopped beside her.
He stood just outside the vignette of light from a lamppost.
“There you are,” she said. “I’ve, like, been waiting forever for you. Gosh.”
“Why aren’t you in costume?” The man asked. A man or another teenager? Heather couldn’t tell.
“Because Halloween is super lame.” Tatiana sighed. “So, are we doing this or not?”
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” the stranger said. “I can’t tonight. It’s not the right time. I promised my mom I’d meet her and it’s getting late and –”
“Typical,” the girl spat. “So, so, so typical of you, dude. I can’t even deal.”
“Kenster, I’m just doing what I have to do. You know how it is,” he said.
“Yeah, whatever.” She turned her back on him and stepped out of the light. “I’m going home.”
“Wait. We can do it tomorrow, okay?” The other teen said. “Meet me at the South Bosque Bait and Tackle Store at 9 am. We’ll go from there.”
Tatiana Kenny hesitated. She glanced back at the masked man. “Fine. But this is our last chance. We have to talk about this.”
“I understand.”
“Good,” Tatiana said, and then she disappeared. The stranger stared at her back for a second, then turned and jogged back across the road.
Heather pressed her lips together. The plot had thickened all right. What was Tatiana Kenny up to? And could those shoes have belonged to the stranger in the mask?
“Now’s not the time,” she whispered to herself. “I’ve got to get home and fetch an oversized spider.”
Chapter 8
Heather grasped the end of Dave’s leash and hovered in the shade of the building. Amy peeled another pistachio nut, then popped it into her mouth and crunched it between her teeth.
“I wish Dave could wear that spider outfit all year. The look on Eva’s face last night! Priceless.” Amy chuckled, then peeled another nut.
“Uh huh,” Heather replied. She bent and fluffed Dave’s ears, but he ignored her. He’d accepted the costume, but oh boy, he hadn’t particularly enjoyed it. She was in the dog box, all right. “Cheer up, Dave. Everyone thought you looked fabulous.”
The dog wagged his tail once. It was a start.
“So, what are we waiting for?” Amy asked.
Heather sighed and straightened again. “What time is it?” She asked.
“I love it when you answer my questions with another question.”
“Amy,” Heather groaned.
“Fine, fine, it’s 9 am,” her bestie replied.
“Then we don’t have much longer to wait. I didn’t get a chance to tell you last night, but I spotted that teenager talking to some guy last night,” Heather said.
“As teenage girls are wont to do. Did she giggle and twirl her hair? Forget I asked. I can’t imagine the Kenster twirling her hair,” Amy replied.
“Oh please, don’t. I can’t bear the sound of that.” Heather pressed a finger to her lips, then grabbed Amy by the arm and steered her into the mouth of an alley. “There they are,” she whispered, and pointed at Tatiana and… a teenage boy, his face spotted by pimples.
Dave scratched beneath his collar and yawned.
“I share Dave’s sentiments on this one. What’s the big deal?” Amy asked.
Heather prodded her bestie in the arm. “They’re up to something. Or he is. Or she is. I can’t be sure, but they arranged this secret meeting, and I’m going to find out what it’s about.”
“Oh, they’re moving.”
Tatiana led the way and her friend followed. They didn’t speak but strode toward the dirt road which led out of town and toward the forest.
“Oh yay. We haven’t been spelunking in a while,” Amy said and rolled her ankles in her low heels. “I’m perfectly equipped for this.”
Heather rolled her eyes then set off. They kept an easy pace and their distance. It wasn’t hard to spot Tatiana's commander’s walk or the long, dark hair which swayed down her back.
Five minutes passed, then ten, then fifteen and Dave whined once. Heather shushed him, then bent and picked him up. He settled against her chest and quieted, immediately.
The pair of teens hadn’t looked back once. In their world, they were secure. Their secret was safe.
“There they go,” Amy whispered. “They’re going into the forest.”
“Oh boy,” Heather said. “I’m kinda creeped out about it now. What are these two up to?”
“Pokémon Go?”
They hurried toward the line of trees, then stepped beneath the canopy. Birds chirped, and a cold wind whipped between the trunks of the trees. Heather stroked Dave’s fur and crept forward.
Voices traveled through the gloom.
“What do you mean that’s far enough?” Tatiana grunted. “We’re going down to the river.”
“I’ve already been out of the house for too long, Kenster. I should be home with my mom.”
“Ugh, your mom. Your mom. You’re always talking about your mom like she’s the best thing ever. It’s, like, super weird.”
Heather darted behind a tree and pressed her back against it. Amy did the same behind one next to hers. They peered around their trunks.
Tatiana and the mystery teen stood just ahead of them. The teenage boy put his hands on his hips and glared at her. “It’s not super weird. My mom has been through a lot. I’m just trying to be –”
“To be boring,” Tatiana replied. “Do you even know what I’ve, like, been through over the past few days? It’s crazy.”
“I know,” the guy said, and dropped his arms.
“No, James, you don’t know. It’s been freakin’ crazy.” Tatiana paced back and forth. “I’ve waited all week for this, and now you’re, like, not into it anymore?”
“Of course, I am,” James said. “Tats, I love you. I totally do.”
Amy pulled a face and pretended to gag. Heather shared the sentiment but didn’t budge.
“Then why are you being so weird?”
“I don’t know. It’s just strange that your mom died. I feel weird about it.” James shrugged his shoulders beneath his baggy shirt.
“Oh, whatever. You know how much grief she gave me,” Tatiana replied.
“I know, but she was still your mom. Look, I know we’re supposed to plan and everything but I just, ugh, I’ve got to leave in like five minutes.”
Plan? What did they have to plan for?
“Right. Whatever.” Tatiana replied. “We walked all the way out here for, like, nothing.”
“Maybe we should just meet in the park next time,” James said.
“Right, yeah, that’s real secretive.” Tatiana folded her arms. “I get the feeling you don’t want to do this anymore.”
James stared at her for a long time. “It’s not that I don’t. It’s that I can’t.”
“What?” The girl’s voice turned to ice. “What did you just say?”
“I can’t. My mom is sick, Tatsi. She’s really sick, and I need to help her out. Ever since my dad left, things have been difficult for us. I –”
“Done!” Tatiana yelled. “I am so done with you, you loser.”
“Don’t be upset, please.” James folded his arms across his chest and took a step back.
But Tatiana truly was done. She marched off into the woods and disappeared from view. James stared at the trees for a moment, then huffed a sigh and marched off in the opposite direction.
Silence settled. A few birds chirped, and insects moved through the undergrowth.
“Well, that was weird,” Amy said.
“That’s our theme this week,” Heather replied, then kissed Dave’s furry head. “Come on, Ames, let’s get out of here. I’ve got donuts to make.”
Chapter 9
“I think we’re creatures of habit,” Ryan said and swept his nacho through the guacamole. He lifted it to his lips then gobbled it up. “I mean, we never go anywhere else, anymore.”
“That’s not true,” Heather replied. “We go to work. And I snoop around in forests.”
Ryan paused and frowned at her. He lifted another nacho and pointed it at her. “What on earth do you mean?” He ate the chip and crunched, loudly.
Another date night at Dos Chicos – their favorite Mexican restaurant in Hillside – and Heather couldn’t force the case from her mind. Too many options, too little evidence. The hallmarks of her cases, it seemed.
“I followed Tatiana today,” Heather said.
“Tatiana Kenny? That’s the deceased’s daughter, correct?” Ryan took a sip of his soda, then cleared his throat. “We interviewed her right after her mother’s murder. She
didn’t seem that upset. Actually, Hoskins interviewed her. He said, she wasn’t a threat and definitely too weak to be the murderer.”
“Too weak. Wow. I’m not saying Hoskins is wrong, but yeah, she’s a weird kid.” Heather forked her enchilada but didn’t lift the portion to her lips. “I’m not sure what to think of her.”
“Me neither, but there isn’t any evidence linking her to the crime scene, so far,” Ryan replied.
“Any footage of her at the party?” Heather asked. She shut her eyes for a moment.
They’d definitely seen her on arrival. Tatiana had witnessed the argument between Georgia and her mother before she’d stormed off.
“We’ve got a glimpse of her on camera early in the evening, but after that, she goes back to her room. The door stays closed, and she doesn’t come out until the cops bang on her door,” Ryan replied.
Heather sighed and rubbed her palm across her brow. “She met with a teenager this morning. Kid by the name of James. I didn’t catch his last name. They spoke about some kind of plan, but I’m not sure it had anything to do with the murder.”
Ryan shifted his plate, then put his elbow on the table and balanced his chin on his fist. He tapped the white tablecloth with the fingers of his other hand. “Interesting. I’ll look into this and get back to you with a name.”
“Do we know anything else? Anything at all?”
Ryan shook his head. “Nothing new. We matched those footprints to a pair of Nikes which have been sold by the millions, which wasn’t much help. Other than that, you know what I know.”
“I need more information than what we have. I’m particularly interested in that Myra Jackson, you mentioned. The maid. I want to talk to her myself,” Heather said.
Maybe, she could squeeze something out of the woman she wouldn’t normally tell the police.
“Good idea,” Ryan replied, but his brow wrinkled. He peered past Heather at the booth behind them, then shook his head and sighed.
“What’s wrong?” Heather asked.
“Your favorite fan has followed us,” her husband replied, then picked up a nacho and ate it.
“Fan?” Heather asked. She turned in her sat and peered over the tall back of her seat.
Spooky Choc Orange Glazed Murder: A Donut Hole Cozy Mystery - Book 23 Page 3
