Slowly, he raised his finger and deliberately stuck it in his nose.
Yeah, kid. I know how you feel.
Takako squeezed my hand. “I’m glad you’re okay, Val, even if—” She bit her bottom lip. “Everything is going to work out.”
I made a face at the boy, and he giggled.
“Thanks,” I said. “I think so too.” Why was I keeping her at a distance? Takako wasn’t the enemy. She was smart and thoughtful, and she wasn’t trying to take over my mother’s place in my heart. What did I have to lose?
We chugged past the parking lot.
Charlene and Marla hooted. Gamely, I waved at the two women.
And Gordon Carmichael.
Chapter Thirteen
Grinning, Gordon loaded our bags into the back of Charlene’s Jeep. His muscles moved fluidly beneath his blue sweater. “How was your train ride?”
“Bracing.” My heart fluttered. No matter what we were doing, he had that effect on me. “What are you doing here?”
He gave me a long look. “I could ask you the same question. If Chief Shaw thinks you’re interfering in his investigation, I may not be able to protect you.”
I gave him a look.
“Okay,” he said. “If he catches me, I could be in even deeper trouble.”
“For visiting a pumpkin patch?” I asked. “It’s the post-pumpkin festival place to go.”
“Especially when you’re investigating a murder,” Marla said.
My gaze flicked to the gray sky. “That too.”
He set the last black bag in the Jeep and shut the rear door. “Let me guess—the Halloween village was a bribe to get Laurelynn talking?”
“More a bribe to get her not to drop Pie Town as a wholesaler.” I scrubbed my hands over my face.
“What happened?” he asked.
Marla had happened. I shot the older woman an annoyed glance. “A misunderstanding.”
He frowned but didn’t pursue the subject. “Learn anything you want to share?”
“It sounds like she doesn’t have an alibi for Kara’s murder,” I said, “but I’m not certain.”
“Then I’ll work from there. Thanks.” Gordon kissed me chastely on the forehead and strode through the hard-packed dirt lot and into the pumpkin patch.
I got in the Jeep, and we made our way to Pie Town, Takako lecturing on the symbolism of pumpkins from the back seat.
“In the medieval period,” she said, “they represented the world. Today, the vines symbolize our connections to others. In certain folklore, dreaming of a pumpkin is believed to break a curse. But I don’t see how any of that would have bearing on the murder.”
“I’m starting to think you’re right,” I said. “But it is interesting.”
For reasons unfathomable to mere mortals such as myself, Marla followed as we turned into Pie Town’s narrow alley.
Charlene slammed on the brakes, the seat belt catching me sharply in the chest. Marla’s silver Mercedes screeched to a halt.
“We’ve been hit!”
“The Jeep?” I twisted in my seat. I hadn’t felt a bump.
Charlene pointed to Pie Town’s brick wall. In yellow paint, someone had written: PUMPKIN DIE.
Anger flooded my veins. “Oh, for . . . Pete’s sake!” San Nicholas had a forty-eight-hour rule regarding removal of graffiti. The law made sense, since graffiti attracts more graffiti. But how was I going to get paint off raw brick?
Takako tsked. “Kids.”
I shifted the bags piled in my lap. Why tag Pie Town instead of the comic book shop or the gym next door? Maybe Mrs. Thistleblossom really had cursed me.
“Kids didn’t do this,” Charlene said. “It’s Thistleblossom.”
I groaned. “So much for my day off.”
Takako reached through the seats and gripped my shoulder. “All we need are scrub brushes and paint stripper. A friend of mine had to do this last year. She said it wasn’t that bad. I’ll call her and find out what she used.”
“Thanks,” I said, grateful.
Behind us, Marla honked.
Muttering beneath her breath, Charlene pulled to the side of the alley and parked.
Since I was loaded with black bags, I let Charlene unlock the alley door. The four of us trooped into the kitchen.
Marla paused to wipe her finger along a metal countertop. “It’s cleaner than I expected.”
“If you really thought Pie Town was a dive,” Charlene said, “you wouldn’t park your backside on a counter stool every morning.”
“The day-old pastries are half price!”
I led them into the dining area and dumped the bags in a booth beside the front windows. Sunlight streamed through the blinds and reflected off napkin holders. If I had a happy place, Pie Town was it. I sighed, my muscles slackening.
“Where’s the coffee?” Marla asked.
“We’re closed today,” Charlene said.
Marla’s forehead puckered. “So?”
“So, there’s no coffee.”
Marla threw her hands in the air and stormed to the front door. After some fiddling with the lock, she strode out, her trench coat flapping in the damp breeze.
“Good riddance.” Charlene shoved a bag aside and dropped into the booth.
Takako wedged her phone into her small, black leather backpack and slung it over one shoulder. “I got the name of that paint remover. There’s a hardware store down the road. Would you like me to see if they carry it?”
“That would be great,” I said. “Thanks.”
“I’ll be right back.” Takako pushed open the front door, the bell above it jingling. She hurried onto the sidewalk.
“Alone at last,” Charlene said. “Let’s talk fast before any more helpful people return.”
“What happened at the pumpkin patch wasn’t Takako’s fault. What did you think about Laurelynn?”
“I thought she was suspiciously helpful.”
“Mmm. Interesting what she said about Dr. Levant’s personality. Do you think it’s true?”
Charlene cocked her head. “It fits. I didn’t know the good doctor that well, but I got the impression the doctor was driven.”
I tugged Styrofoam from a box and removed a haunted hotel. “Even if Dr. Levant did run people down, like Laurelynn said, is it a motive for murder?”
“If someone was pushed hard enough, maybe.”
“Elon did tell us that she and Laurelynn were rivals.” I pried open another box—a haunted house—and attempted to pull out the rectangular, Styrofoam packing. It didn’t move, wedged firmly against the sides of the box.
“And Laurelynn said Kara and Elon had a good marriage, but everyone already knew that.”
Scrunching my face, I turned the box upside down and shook it lightly. The Styrofoam didn’t budge. “The spouse is usually the prime suspect. We can’t count out Elon.”
Charlene snatched the box from my hand. “You’ve got to open the bottom and push.” She demonstrated, and the Styrofoam slid free.
I forced the two sides apart, revealing a ceramic haunted house with a plug attached. “Ooh! It’s electric. Why is it electric?”
“Plug it in and find out. Didn’t you ever have a Christmas village?”
I plugged in the hotel. There was a grinding noise, and the door opened. A witch with a cauldron emerged.
It was the sort of contraption a normal cat would have gone for. On the table, Frederick just flicked his ear and closed his eyes.
“Er, does that witch remind you of anyone?” I asked. Because I thought she looked a lot like Mrs. Thistleblossom.
“No.”
“Not even a little?”
“No,” she said. “Why? Who do you think that old witch looks like?”
“Mrs. Thistleblossom.”
“Forget Thistleblossom. The real question is, what’s Marla up to with your stepmother?”
I set the haunted house in the window and grabbed another box. “Aside from irritating you?”
“She’s up to something.”
“Probably.” The Laurelynn-Kara rivalry had nothing on Charlene vs. Marla.
The front door swung open, jangling the bell.
I started, nearly dropping a ceramic graveyard to the checkerboard floor.
Marla strolled inside carrying a paper coffee cup. “Where’s Takako?”
“What are you doing back here?” Charlene asked.
“Drinking my coffee, obviously.” Marla took a cautious sip and smiled.
“And you only brought one? Thanks for thinking of others,” Charlene snapped.
Marla’s smile was wintery. “Oh, Charlene. If you wanted coffee, all you had to do was get it yourself.”
I handed Marla the graveyard before the battle could escalate. “Find a place to put this, would you?”
“I know where she can put it,” Charlene said warningly.
“And here’s a costume shop for you.” I handed my piecrust specialist another box.
They argued about proper village layout while I unboxed. Even though the foam protectors were molded to fit the pieces inside, mysterious crumbs of white Styrofoam scattered across the booth and checkerboard floor.
Takako returned with the paint remover. We abandoned Charlene and Marla to the village and walked to the alley. Anything was better than listening to those two squabble.
Takako and I scrubbed at the yellow paint with a stiff brush soaked in the solvent. To my relief, the paint lifted from the brick.
I stepped away from the wall and frowned. Was the handwriting similar to the graffiti left on my delivery van? Since I hadn’t bothered to take a picture of the van, I couldn’t be sure.
“Hold on, Takako. I want to take a picture of this.”
“For the police?”
“I think we should have a record.” I pulled my phone from my hoodie’s pocket and snapped two pictures of the wall.
“Thanks for helping me.” I retrieved my scrub brush. “I’m sure cleaning a wall wasn’t what you’d planned for your vacation.”
“The point of this visit wasn’t the festival. It was to meet you.” She scrubbed at an i. “I’m only sorry I was too late to meet your mother.”
“She would have liked you.”
“What was she like?”
“Creative. Fun.” Until life as a single mother and then cancer had beaten her down.
When we returned inside, a fight was brewing over where the creepy cabin belonged.
“You can’t put a graveyard beside city hall,” Marla said.
“Why not? That’s where all good ideas go to die.”
I tucked a dangling cord along the window ledge. “I think that’s enough village building.”
“But we haven’t plugged in the houses,” Charlene said.
I jammed empty boxes into the bags and lugged them into the hallway. “I’ll need to buy a power strip,” I called over my shoulder. “There are too many plugs for the outlets.”
“Honestly Val,” Marla drawled, “you need to plan ahead.”
“No kidding,” I muttered and ducked into my office. I dropped the empty boxes in the walk-in closet and returned to the dining area.
Takako looked at me expectantly. “Who will you investigate next?”
“I suppose we could pay a condolence call on the widower, Elon.” Marla angled her head toward the kitchen. “Have you got any pies back there we could bring?”
“We?” Charlene pointed at her rival. “So that’s your game. You’re trying to chisel in on our investigation.”
A pained expression creased Takako’s face. “I’ve been moving too fast, haven’t I?”
“What? No,” I said quickly. “You haven’t.”
“Doran wanted to spend time with his girlfriend, Abril, and I was at loose ends—”
“You’ve been great,” I said. “But I’ve got housekeeping of my own to do today. One interrogation plus a window display is enough work on my day off,” I half joked.
“And this is your only day to clean your own house.” Takako grimaced. “Speaking of which, that’s where I left my car. Why don’t Marla and I take you home?”
“Good,” Charlene said, “because I’ve got an errand to run.”
“Oh?” Marla asked, arch. “What errand?”
“Never you mind what errand. It’s an errand.”
I herded the bickering septuagenarians plus Takako into the alley. Charlene and Frederick roared off in her Jeep, and I crammed into the tiny back seat of Marla’s Mercedes. We drove at a sedate pace to my tiny house.
A black Lincoln SUV sat parked beside my shipping container. The fog had lifted slightly. Past the bluff, a thin line of cobalt marked the Pacific.
Balancing her leather backpack and black shopping bag, Takako wriggled from the car.
I squeezed out.
“Thank you, Marla.” Takako leaned inside the Mercedes. “This was lovely.”
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” Marla said.
“Tomorrow?” I asked, suspicious.
Takako shut the door and waved as the Mercedes drove sedately down the winding dirt road. It vanished between the eucalyptus trees.
“Now show me this tiny house of yours,” Takako said.
Beneath the awning, I unlocked my door and climbed the two metal steps inside. “There’s not much to see. Literally.” I stepped aside, shoving aside a chair in the square dining nook with my hip.
Monday really was my day for housekeeping, but the house didn’t need much. Its laminate floors glowed. Light reflected off the soft-white walls. A kitchenette anchored the center of the room.
Takako set her bag and small backpack on the kitchen counter and walked past me to the other end of the house. A bookshelf blocked off the sleeping area, where I kept a pull-out futon.
“What’s this?” She touched a handle in the wall.
I tugged it open, and a desk complete with inset drawers folded from the wall. “It’s small, but I do most of my work in Pie Town anyway.” Suddenly, I felt nervous. I wanted Takako to love my shoebox home as much as I did.
She pulled down the cuff of her pumpkin festival sweatshirt. “It reminds me of my parents’ home in Japan. They moved back there ten years ago. Their house is bigger.”
“Everyone’s is bigger.” I laughed. “But things are so expensive here in Silicon Valley, it was all I could afford. And when there’s no fog, the view goes on forever.” I motioned to the sliding glass doors that took up most of one wall. The long blinds were turned so sunlight sliced across my futon.
“You were smart to buy property.”
“Oh, I’m renting this from Charlene.”
Her dark brows pinched. “From Charlene?”
“I got lucky. Her tenant had moved out right when I needed a place.”
“It’s so small though.”
“Can I make you tea?”
“Yes, please.”
I set her up in the dining nook and boiled water, set out tea bags. Scraping back my chair, I sat across from her. “How are you enjoying San Nicholas?”
“It’s a charming town, if a bit foggy. The more important question is, how do you like it?”
“I love it. I’ve got great friends here. The town’s cute, the ocean’s right there”—I gestured to the window—“and it’s not always this foggy.”
“You didn’t tell me what Laurelynn said before we ruined your interview.”
“You didn’t ruin anything.” I hesitated, but why not tell her? “She said Dr. Levant had a knack for making people feel insecure. Actually, inadequate was the word she used.”
She smiled. “We all have insecurities, don’t we? I worry that I didn’t do right by Doran, though he’s never said or done anything to make me feel that way.”
I turned my mug on the drop-down table. “It’s funny what we do to ourselves.”
“What do you do to yourself?” she asked gently.
I straightened. “Oh, nothing. I mean, I’m sure I tell myself things that aren’t true or he
lpful. We all do. But . . . I wasn’t thinking of anything in particular.”
“You weren’t thinking of Pie Town?”
“Pie Town?” I asked, surprised. “No.”
She sighed. “Do you know why I married Frank?”
“Doran never told me.”
“I was obsessed with my career, and it was exciting. I loved my work. I still do. But even as the work expanded my world in so many ways, my personal life, my connections, were shrinking. And then Frank came. He was a breath of fresh air—wild, exciting, fun.”
“Hmm.” My mother had sent him packing because of the dark side of those qualities. The man was Mayhem, Inc.
She laughed. “Yes, he’s a little too much fun. At the time, I didn’t see his recklessness for what it was. And I didn’t ask . . .” She looked to the glass door. “I let myself be carried away, and it didn’t work out. When we go too far in one direction, sometimes the reaction can be just as extreme. What I really needed, what I strive for now, is balance. That’s one reason why I took this time off to meet you. Do you understand?”
Something small scampered across the metal roof, and we both glanced up.
I brushed back my hair. “Balance is important.”
“Yes. I couldn’t help but notice today was your one day off, and you ended up at Pie Town.”
“I like spending time there.”
She shot me a skeptical look.
“I do,” I said. “It may seem like I’ve got no life outside Pie Town, but you caught me during a pumpkin festival. I have friends, and a life, and the Baker Street Bakers.” And if most of those—okay, all of those—were friends from Pie Town, what was the big deal?
“Having a life outside work is important. But as fascinating as a murder investigation must be, I can’t imagine it’s very relaxing.”
I hesitated again, unsure where this conversation was going. “What’s stressful is knowing there’s a murderer nearby and not knowing who he or she is.” Chief Shaw wasn’t going to find the killer. It was up to Gordon to bring the murderer in, and he wasn’t going to have to fight this battle on his own.
Chapter Fourteen
Smothering a yawn, I handed the customer her plastic number tent. Pie Town was packed this Wednesday afternoon, and I beamed at the full tables.
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