Gourd to Death

by Kirsten Weiss

  “You’d just escaped death by pumpkin,” Takako said. “Of course, you were rattled.”

  “She’s right,” Charlene said. “You screwed up, Val.”

  “Thanks!”

  We wound through the outskirts of town, making a brief stop at Pie Town for a frozen cherry pie.

  Ten minutes later, Charlene pulled into a shopping center parking lot and we escaped the Jeep.

  The optometry office was located between a bookstore and a pizza parlor. A CLOSED sign hung in the glass front window.

  Denise stood, red-faced, behind the glass. Her neck muscles strained in a muffled shout.

  Another figure strode into view behind the glass—Alfreda Kuulik.

  Interesting. I almost didn’t want to interrupt, but I couldn’t really hear their argument. I rapped on the door.

  The two women jerked, whirling to face us.

  Charlene and Takako waved.

  Denise strode to the door and yanked it open. “I’m sorry, we’re closed,” she said briskly. Her hand tightened on the knob.

  “Is everything all right?” I asked.

  “Alfreda was just leaving.” She threw a hostile look at the broad-shouldered woman.

  Alfreda stomped to the door. “I want my money.”

  “Not now, Alfreda!”

  The large woman pushed past us, jostling me.

  “What was that about?” Charlene watched Alfreda storm down the brick sidewalk.

  Denise tugged down the front of her black, company jacket. “She claims she’s owed back pay. But I can’t hand over what she wants right now. I need to verify what she’s owed first. I have to account for every penny to the estate.”

  Denise wore her usual black slacks, and I felt a stab of pity. At least I got to wear jeans with my Pie Town gear. And I had more than one company jacket.

  “Are you the executor?” I asked.

  “Kara thought it would be easier on Elon if I managed things, just in case.” Her expression softened. She shook herself. “Not that Kara ever really believed anything would happen. But we wanted to be organized and prepared. My father was an estate attorney. He used to say that being married without a will was spousal abuse. But you didn’t come here to talk about that. What can I do for you? Have you learned anything?”

  A customer opened the door to the pizza parlor and walked inside. The scent of tomatoes and melting cheese wafted down the sidewalk.

  “It’s what we can do for you,” Charlene said. “Pie.”

  Denise blinked. “Excuse me?”

  “We just came from Elon’s,” I said. “You both suffered a terrible loss. We wanted to bring you comfort food.” I extended the pink box. This time, I’d written out reheating instructions and taped them to the top of the box.

  “It’s cherry,” Charlene said.

  Her eyes widened. “He told you it was my favorite?”

  “Elon may have mentioned it,” Charlene said.

  She blinked rapidly. “He’s so thoughtful.”

  “Technically,” Charlene said, “we were the ones—”

  I nudged her shoulder. This wasn’t the time to get pedantic. “We’re glad you like it. What are you working on?”

  She glanced over her shoulder, into the office. “There’s an optometry organization that will help sell the business. I have to act fast though, so the clients don’t go elsewhere first.”

  “It’s too bad Alfreda didn’t work out,” I said. “With her bookkeeping skills, it sounds like she would have been a big help.”

  Denise stiffened. “My cousin fired her for a reason.”

  “What was that reason, exactly?” Charlene asked.

  Alfreda’s charcoal Honda reversed from a parking spot at Charlene speed and missed a minivan by inches. The minivan honked. The Honda driver pounded on its horn, a staccato blare.

  “It’s not important now,” Denise said.

  “But Dr. Cannon brought her back,” I said.

  Denise shook her head. “Tristan was—”

  The Honda roared past. Alfreda made a one-fingered gesture in our direction.

  Denise snapped her mouth shut and briefly closed her eyes. “I’m sorry. The last week has been a roller coaster. The fact is, Tristan had a soft heart. It’s why he had such a great bedside manner, but it didn’t make him the greatest decision maker when it came to staffing.” She shook her head. “If you must know, Alfreda was becoming too demanding. She wanted a raise, and when Kara couldn’t give it to her, she became rude and aggressive with the patients. Kara had to fire her.”

  I nodded. That tracked with what I’d learned.

  “Are the police any closer to figuring out who killed your cousin and Dr. Cannon?” Takako asked.

  “The police?” Denise’s lip curled. “You can’t count on them. They don’t know their collective asses from their elbows.”

  My midsection tightened, hardening. “There are good cops at the SNPD.” Even if Chief Shaw made their work difficult.

  One corner of her mouth wrinkled. “According to town gossip, if you want a crime solved, go to the Baker Street Bakers. Which is why I hired you. Is that why you’re here, to investigate Alfreda?”

  I shuffled my feet. “Uh . . .”

  “If she killed my cousin, she needs to pay,” Denise said fiercely. “I don’t care how Kara gets justice, as long as justice is done.”

  “You’re a sponsor of the corn maze,” I said, “aren’t you?”

  She folded her arms over her logo jacket. “Yes. Why?”

  “You didn’t happen to stop by there last night, did you?”

  “No,” Denise said sharply. “Why would I? I’m a sponsor. I’ve funded it. I’m not going to repaint that sign myself. Why do you ask?”

  “I thought I’d seen you there,” I lied, “that’s all. It’s not important.”

  We said our good-byes. Denise locked the door behind us. Its window blinds rattled into place.

  “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Charlene asked in a low tone.

  “Probably not,” Takako said cautiously.

  But I was. “We need to return to the maze.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The afternoon sun had taken on a soft, misty quality as we whizzed down the One. Dried grasses along the side of the highway rippled at the Jeep’s passage.

  “I thought the maze was closed on Mondays?” Takako asked.

  Charlene cackled. “So do the San Adrianites.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked, uneasy. I’d figured someone would be at the maze today—a guard or someone doing repairs to the sign or the shattered throne.

  “It means if anyone tries anything today,” she said, “they’ll be in for a nasty surprise.”

  Uh-oh.

  “Don’t you think this rivalry between San Nicholas and San Adrian is getting out of hand?” Takako asked gently.

  “Yes,” I said.

  “No,” Charlene said.

  “Maybe if everyone talked it out,” Takako said, “you’d be able to resolve this peacefully.”

  “Maybe pigs will fly,” Charlene said. “This is San Adrian we’re talking about. They’re pure evil.”

  “That sounds like demonization of the other,” Takako said.

  Charlene made a screeching right turn onto the dirt road leading to the maze. “That sounds like anthropology talk.”

  “I had to take a few psych classes for my degree,” Takako admitted, clutching her seat belt. “And I can’t help noticing that a lot of the plotting against San Adrian has happened in Pie Town.”

  “You heard that?” Charlene asked. “I hope no one from San Adrian did.”

  “What did you hear?” I asked. What were they up to now?

  “And,” Takako said, “that reflects badly on Pie Town and Val. She doesn’t want to get drawn into a scandal. She may even be liable.”

  “Takako’s not wrong,” I said. “I mean, I don’t know about liable, but we do need to get along.”

  �
��How?” Charlene asked. “This is San Adrian we’re talking about.”

  “Their pumpkin festival isn’t going away.” I adjusted the collar on my turtleneck sweater.

  The Jeep hit a pothole, and I jounced in my seat.

  We pulled into the empty parking lot. Charlene whizzed around the black barn and parked behind an outbuilding.

  My piecrust specialist stepped from the Jeep and waved her arms. “It’s us, the Baker Street Bakers,” Charlene shouted. She slid the cat from her shoulder and cradled it in her arms.

  The cornstalks rustled.

  “Are you sure there are guards out there?” I extricated myself from the car and laid Frederick on its warm hood.

  “Guards? Oh, right. Yes,” Charlene said, pressing a finger to her nose. “They’re out there.”

  Takako eyed her askance.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I said slowly. “Are they hidden or something?”

  Charlene studied the graying sky. “Well, guards wouldn’t be much good if everyone could see them, would they?”

  I gave up. “Let’s try the barn.”

  “Hold on.” Charlene adjusted Frederick around her neck. “You don’t know the passcode.”

  “Passcode?” Takako raised a brow.

  Charlene strode to the barn’s rear door and rapped out a shave-and-a-haircut.

  The wooden door cracked open.

  Joy peered out. “Who goes there?” she said in her flat voice.

  “Baker Street Bakers,” Charlene said. “And associate members.”

  The door widened, and Joy let us inside. A comic book dangled from her hand. “You’re not on duty yet,” she said. “Is something up?”

  “You tell me,” Charlene said. “All quiet here?”

  Joy nodded. “So far.”

  “Everyone’s in place?” Charlene asked.

  “Yes.”

  “And we’re fully supplied?” Charlene asked.

  “We are,” Joy said.

  “Supplied for what?” I looked around the cavernous barn. Orange twinkle lights provided the only illumination.

  Heidi emerged from behind a bookcase filled with T-shirts and pumpkin knickknacks. “Is everything all right?” She caught my gaze, and her eyes narrowed to slits. Heidi folded her arms over her green yoga jacket.

  “Oh. Hi, Heidi.” I scuffed my feet on the straw-covered floor. “You look nice today.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Heidi flipped her blond ponytail over one shoulder. “You know, don’t you?”

  “Know what?” I asked.

  Charlene nudged me. “Sweet-talking her isn’t going to work,” she whispered loudly enough for everyone in the barn to hear. “Not when she’s just been dumped.”

  Embarrassment bubbled up from my chest. I remembered how it had felt when my engagement went kablooey. “Er . . . we’re trying to figure out who shot the cannon at me last night.”

  Heidi’s nostrils whitened. “And you assumed I did.”

  “No,” I said.

  “Why is everything always my fault?” she asked, shrill.

  “I didn’t say that, but if it wasn’t one of the workers—”

  “If!”

  “Val could have been killed,” Joy said flatly.

  Heidi’s jaw worked. “Ohmygawd, okay! What do you want to know?”

  “You know Elon Levant,” I said, “right?”

  “He’s a member of my gym.”

  “Did he stop by the maze last night?”

  The two women shook their heads.

  “What about Kara’s cousin, Denise?”

  “Our sponsor?” Heidi asked. “She knows she doesn’t need a ticket.”

  “But was she here?” I persisted.

  “I didn’t see her,” Joy said.

  “And you were here,” Charlene said, “inside the barn the whole time?”

  “If by the whole time,” Joy said, “you mean from six-thirty last night until past closing, yes. I came straight from my comic book store.”

  “What about you, Heidi?” I asked. “Did you see her?”

  The gym owner’s forehead wrinkled. “A car drove past and around the other side of the barn as I was getting in my car. But I didn’t get a good look. It had its high beams on, and I figured it was Mrs. Scala, coming to pick up her husband.”

  “Did you see its headlights go up the road to the cannon?” I asked.

  Her eyebrows gathered inward. “No. It must have parked behind the barn. But why would she do that?”

  Why, indeed, with a perfectly good parking lot nearby? Why, for that matter, had Charlene parked behind the barn? Who were we hiding from? “What time was this?” I asked, my heart rate speeding.

  “Around a quarter to ten.”

  “What time were you fired on?” Charlene asked me.

  “Ten o’clock, to the minute. What about Alfreda from the optometry office?”

  Heidi shook her head. “Oh, it couldn’t have been Alfreda.”

  “Why not?” I asked.

  “Because her car was in front of mine.” Heidi rolled her eyes. “We left the parking lot at the same time.”

  I frowned. My ticket had been time-stamped 9:32. Alfreda had left the barn right after that. She could have spent thirteen minutes futzing around in the parking lot at her car, but it seemed like a long time. But we were talking in generalities—Heidi wasn’t sure exactly what time she’d left.

  “And you’re certain it was Alfreda’s car?” Charlene asked.

  The gym owner huffed. “I saw her get into it—a dark Honda Accord. I followed Alfreda onto the highway and into San Nicholas. She’s a slow driver. I think she has night-vision problems. I’ve told her about the importance of vitamin A, but will she listen? It’s like talking to you about poisoning the town with all that sugar.”

  For Pete’s sake. “I am not poisoning—”

  Something scuttled across the barn roof, and we glanced up.

  “It’s only raccoons.” Joy grimaced. “The waiting is putting us all on edge.”

  “Waiting?” Takako asked.

  “For the attack,” Joy said. “San Adrian.”

  Charlene glared at Joy. “Loose lips sink ships.”

  “Aren’t we all on the same side?” Joy asked.

  I squinted at Charlene. “I’m starting to think we’re not.”

  Gently, Charlene laid Frederick on the counter. “Best if we leave him here, until whatever happens, happens.” She pointed at the white cat. “Stay.”

  His eyes didn’t open.

  Takako touched my arm. “I’m sure San Adrian won’t do anything.”

  “I hope you’re right.” Heidi brushed a fleck of dust off her sleeve. “But people justify all sorts of atrocities.”

  “Sugar is not an atrocity,” I said heatedly. “There is nothing wrong with an occasional slice of pie.”

  Heidi tossed her ponytail. “In your opinion.”

  “Is Mr. Scala here?” I asked.

  “He’s guarding the cannon,” Heidi said.

  “Thanks,” I snapped.

  “You’re not welcome,” Heidi said.

  “Let’s go find Mr. Scala.” Takako steered Charlene and I from the barn.

  We walked up the coiling, dirt road toward the cannon.

  “At least you’ve cleared Alfreda,” Takako said cheerfully.

  “That leaves Elon and Denise,” Charlene said. “Though there’s always the X factor.”

  “The X factor?” Takako asked.

  “The unknown element,” Charlene said.

  “Speaking of which . . .” Takako turned to me. “You’ve been quiet today. Is something bothering you?”

  Charlene snorted. “Gotta be man trouble.”

  “Why do you say that?” Takako asked.

  “At her age?” Charlene jerked a thumb toward me. “It’s always man trouble.”

  “I guess I am a little concerned about Gordon,” I admitted.

  “Ha! Told you so,” Charlene said.
r />   “What’s wrong?” Takako asked.

  My stomach wriggled. “He’s really frustrated that he’s off the case. It helps that we’ve been feeding him the info we find. . . .” And he’d been feeding himself pie. . . .

  “But what?” Takako prompted.

  “Gordon keeps telling me it will be fine,” I continued, “but I’ve never seen him so obsessed about a case. It worries me. Then I feel guilty for worrying about us, when Gordon has real problems.” Like his parents. Why hadn’t he called? Had something horrible happened?

  “You worry a lot, don’t you?” Takako asked.

  “It’s a hobby.”

  She looked down at her black boots. “I guess I can see why, after everything . . .” Her head came up. “Val, there’s something I need to talk to you about.”

  “Sure. What’s up?”

  She opened her mouth and shut it. Bit her bottom lip. “What’s really happening with you and Gordon?”

  Okay, that wasn’t what I’d expected. But it did feel better getting it out in the open. “Gordon made a comment about us not seeing each other often enough. His job has crazy hours.”

  “So does yours,” she said.

  “Yeah. I mean, our relationship seems to be working. I think it’s working. But I thought things were working with my last boyfriend too.”

  “The one who dumped her at the altar,” Charlene said.

  Not helpful! “I wasn’t at the—Will you stop saying that? I’m second-guessing myself enough.”

  “Hmm.” Takako’s brow furrowed. “There’s something I should tell you about Frank—”

  “Let’s not talk about my dad. I’m aggravated enough today.”

  Takako’s mouth crimped. She nodded.

  We wandered past waving corn and rounded a bend to the cannon. The fire truck stood alone. Its cannon aimed toward the cornfield stretching to the highway.

  Charlene cupped her hands around her mouth and hallooed. “Petros! You here?”

  Mr. Scala, in jeans and a thick jacket, emerged from the cornfield. “Keep it down, will you?”

  “You keep it down,” Charlene muttered.

  “We’ll all keep it down.” I rolled my eyes and asked if he’d seen any of our suspects at the maze that night.

  “Nope,” he said.