Gourd to Death

by Kirsten Weiss

  “I made some calls after I got off the phone with you,” he admitted.

  “You did?” I asked, my heart swelling. He’d taken it seriously. He’d taken me seriously.

  “You didn’t think I’d ignore a possible kidnapping?”

  “Possible kidnapping?” Charlene asked. “What do you know?”

  “Takako went with the San Adrianites of her own accord,” Gordon said.

  I gaped. Why the heck would she do that?

  “They didn’t even realize she was in one of their cars at first,” he continued.

  “So why didn’t she return?” Marla asked.

  “Because Val’s stepmother is determined to make peace between San Adrian and San Nicholas.” Gordon paused and met my gaze. “I’m not sure why she cares so much.”

  But I thought I knew why. The same reason she’d come here. The same reason she’d stayed so long to get to know me. Atonement. She wanted to make up to me for her role in Frank’s departure. And since she couldn’t help at Pie Town, and I hadn’t really let her help with the investigation, she’d tackled the San Adrian problem. She’d said I might be liable for the plotting that had gone there. Takako must have really believed it. I rubbed the hollow between my collarbones and nodded for him to go on.

  “Your stepmother wouldn’t leave until the folks from San Adrian would agree to a deal,” he finished.

  “A deal?” Charlene’s brows lowered with suspicion. “What sort of deal?”

  He shrugged. “No idea. But my guess is she’s succeeded if she’s returning now.” His emerald eyes twinkled. “So, the hostage release is at the corn maze?”

  “It seemed only right they return her from where they took her,” I said. “Though I guess they didn’t actually take her.” I checked my watch. “They said they’d be there in forty minutes or so, but—”

  “We should get there early,” Charlene said, “in case it’s an ambush.”

  “Good thinking.” Gordon’s lips pressed into a quivering line. He checked his watch. “But there’s one thing I’ve got to do first. I’ll meet you there.” He bent and kissed my cheek. “Numquam taediosum,” he murmured and strode from the kitchen.

  The front door snicked open and shut.

  “Numquam taediosum?” Marla asked. “Are you two speaking in code now? What does that mean?”

  “It’s Latin for never boring,” I said, smiling. As a motto, it wasn’t half-bad.

  Marla sniffed. “Show-offs.” She glanced at the open box. “And who ate my pie?”

  “We’ll get you another pie.” Charlene walked to the arched doorway and turned. “Are you two coming?”

  Marla started. “Me?”

  “You’re an associate Baker Street Baker, aren’t you?” Charlene asked, tart as a key lime pie.

  “Hmm. What does one wear to a handoff?” Marla puttered from the kitchen.

  Charlene folded her arms and leaned against the door frame. “This’ll take a while.” Around her shoulders, Frederick yawned in agreement.

  Twenty anxiety-inducing minutes later, Marla swanned down the spiral staircase. She’d changed into black yoga pants and a sleek, matching jacket. Marla turned in place beside the round table laden with flowers. “What do you think?”

  “We’ve wasted enough time,” Charlene growled. “Let’s move.”

  We shuffled out of Marla’s beach palace and into the Jeep.

  “What is that smell?” Marla asked.

  “Victory,” Charlene said, handing Frederick over the seat to me.

  “No,” Marla said, “it definitely doesn’t smell like that.”

  I glanced over my shoulder at the drone in the rear compartment. The pumpkin was molding. Tonight, I swore to myself, Charlene was either getting a new pumpkin, or retiring the drone.

  We roared up the drive, lurching to a halt while we waited for Marla’s iron gate to swing open. Then we were off, bulleting down narrow roads and onto the One.

  “Don’t take this the wrong way,” Marla said, “but it’s a little disappointing the killer doesn’t have Takako. Then we might have wrapped up this case.”

  “I don’t see how,” I muttered, annoyed, and tapped my phone’s screen.

  “The hostage handoff is a distraction from the murder,” Marla said. “It may be unintentional, but it’s a distraction nonetheless.”

  “This case has been full of distractions,” Charlene said. “The pumpkin war with San Adrian, old lady Thistleblossom. . .”

  I pressed the phone to my ear. The phone rang once, twice.

  Alfreda picked up. “Hello?”

  “Hi, this is Val Harris.”

  “Oh! Are you calling about the job?”

  I blanked for a moment. Job? Oh, right, the job we’d supposedly interviewed her for. “We’ve got one more question. You mentioned you knew about closed corporations. I checked the companies you worked for, and none were that form. Where did you learn about them?”

  There was a long pause. “Why? Are you thinking about incorporating?”

  “It’s a definite possibility.” Because anything’s possible, right?

  “That’s the sort of thing you should talk to a lawyer about,” she said.

  “Yes, but where—?”

  “I really can’t talk now.” Alfreda hung up.

  I frowned at the phone. There was no reason for Alfreda to be cagey about this. Unless . . .

  “What was that about?” Charlene asked. “Pull over, you idiot!” She banged her fist on the horn and swerved around a slow-moving Corvette.

  “You were talking to Alfreda,” Marla said, “weren’t you? I told you she’s crazy.”

  I bit the inside of my cheek. “You know, I think she might be.” Dangerously crazy.

  Chapter Thirty

  The Jeep’s headlights painted blurry circles on the black barn. Three empty and unfamiliar cars parked in the maze lot. A generator rumbled nearby. The San Adrians had said to meet here. Where were they? Where was Takako?

  At the Jeep, I started to hand Frederick to Charlene.

  She shook her head. “You keep him for now.” She opened its rear door and reached into the compartment.

  Marla wrinkled her nose. “Are you sure that cat’s still alive? Perhaps that’s what I’ve been smelling.”

  “You’ve been smelling my drone.” Charlene pulled the wilted jack-o’-lantern drone from the car and sighed. “You should have seen it with a candle inside, flying through the air.”

  Marla pinched her nose shut. “It’s rotting!”

  “I don’t care what Gordon said.” Charlene fiddled with the drone’s controls. It buzzed up and into the night. “I don’t trust those San Adrianites. This will give us a bird’s-eye view of the action.”

  Cold, damp air rippled the corn, and Marla’s head jerked nervously.

  I shivered, rubbing the arms of my sweater. Maybe I should have gone wild and worn a jacket with actual sleeves instead of this vest.

  “Where is everybody?” I asked.

  The barn’s main door rolled open, and Joy emerged.

  “Joy!” I hurried to the comic store owner. “Have you seen my stepmother?”

  She nodded. “She’s fine. They asked me to tell you they’re in the corn maze. Take the shortcut.” Joy nodded toward the other side of the barn.

  “For Pete’s sake,” I said. “Why the cloak and dagger?”

  Joy frowned. “You do remember we live in San Nicholas.” She scanned the parking lot. “Where’s that other woman?”

  “What other woman?” I asked.

  “The tall brunette with the big shoulders.”

  “Alfreda?” I looked toward the highway, my gaze clouding. Ribbons of fog blacked out the stars, a waning moon gliding in and out of the mist and casting eerie shadows. Why would she be here?

  “Yeah,” Joy said, “that receptionist.”

  “Office manager,” Charlene corrected.

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  “Alfreda was here earlier,�
� Joy said. “I thought she’d joined your gang.”

  “It’s not a gang,” Charlene said. “We’re the—”

  Marla elbowed Charlene’s side. “It’s a gang.”

  The Jeep’s headlights flicked off, plunging us into darkness. An uneasy silence fell.

  Takako was okay. Joy had seen her, and there was no reason to worry about what the darkness held. But I pressed my arms to my sides.

  Charlene coughed. “No worries.” She worked the drone’s controls on her phone. “This baby’s got night vision.”

  “Let’s get a move on,” Marla said. “I’m freezing.”

  “What do you expect wearing that cat suit?” Charlene sniped.

  Marla struck a pose. “Everything,” she purred.

  “Blech.” Charlene returned to fiddling with the drone app. “Got ’em.”

  “Do you see Takako?” I draped Frederick around my neck for warmth and peered over her shoulder.

  The phone screen displayed the greenish figures of four people, pacing in the center of the maze. One might have been Takako, but it was impossible to tell from this angle.

  “All right,” I said. “Let’s go.”

  “It could be a trap.” Marla bit her bottom lip. “Maybe I should wait here.”

  My shoulders tightened. She was leaving us to rescue Takako on our own. “Marla—”

  “It’s fine,” Charlene said, surprising me. “If something goes wrong, it’s good to have backup. But we keep the drone. And Frederick.”

  Marla rolled her eyes and motioned to Joy. “Are there any adult beverages in the barn?”

  “There’s coffee,” Joy said. “And brandy.”

  “That will do.”

  “And vodka,” Joy said. “I think there’s cinnamon whiskey.”

  Marla linked arms with Joy. “I do like the way you work.”

  The two women strolled into the black-painted barn and rolled shut the wooden door.

  “You knew Marla was going to chicken out,” I said.

  “A vampire doesn’t change its spots.” She buttoned the top of her jacket. “Let’s rescue your stepmother.”

  We walked into the corn and down the staff ’s secret path, straight and narrow as a knife. Dry stalks brushed against our clothes and whispered warnings. Ahead, flashlight beams danced and shifted eerily through the stalks.

  “We’re getting close,” Charlene said in a low voice. “Are you ready?”

  “Yes,” I said. “We’ll be fine.”

  We emerged in the center of the maze. A folding metal chair had replaced the gilt throne. It sat empty. There was no one here.

  “I don’t understand. I saw them in the maze.” Charlene checked her phone and hissed. “Val, it’s a trap. Run! They’re—”

  A bulky figure emerged from the corn. “About time.” A short, middle-aged man aimed his flashlight into my face.

  “J—Farmer John?” I raised my hand and squinted. “Do you mind?”

  “Whoops.” Looking abashed, he lowered the beam. “Sorry. I didn’t realize. And yeah, I’m Farmer John.” He squinted at me. “Why are you wearing a cat?”

  “I’m not wearing—” Ugh! I was turning into Charlene. “He’s Frederick,” I said, as if that explained everything.

  His head turtled backward. “Whatever, weirdos.”

  “You’re calling me a weirdo?” What was wrong with these people? “You kidnapped my stepmother!”

  “I told you, we didn’t kidnap her.” Farmer John rubbed a hand over his square jaw. “This isn’t usually how we operate.”

  “But it has been lately.” Takako stepped from the shadows of the corn. “Everyone’s been reacting instead of thinking. It isn’t healthy.”

  Rushing to her, I pulled her into a hug. “Are you okay?”

  She patted my cheek. “I told you I was.”

  “Yes, but . . .” I stepped away. “I wish you would have told me what you were up to before you’d left. We were worried.”

  “It was an accident,” she said. “I sort of got swept into a van. And since I was there, I started talking with the people from San Adrian. It was obvious they’re not happy with the situation either.”

  “We’re not happy with San Nicholas hogging all the Halloween glory.” An older, weatherbeaten man with faded red hair twisted his face in a scowl. “You don’t own the pumpkin festival idea, you know.”

  “At least we grow our own pumpkins,” Charlene said, “unlike some towns.”

  “You don’t grow as much as you used to though, do you?” Farmer John asked. “Most of your pumpkins are imports.”

  Charlene bridled. “How dare you.”

  “Okay, okay,” I said. “He actually hasn’t said anything that wasn’t true.”

  Charlene harrumphed.

  “Have your towns considered working together?” Takako asked.

  No one spoke.

  I cleared my throat. “It’s not a bad idea. Since our festivals run right after the other, we could promote them as a moving festival. Maybe do joint promotions and get more marketing bang for our buck?” And it hadn’t escaped my notice that San Adrian didn’t have its own pie shop. Pie Town might be able to chisel in on the San Adrian action.

  Charlene and the men shuffled their feet.

  “Or,” Takako said, “I could go back with you to San Adrian, and we can work on alternate solutions.”

  “Fine,” the redhead said quickly. “We’ll do it.” He pointed at Charlene and me. “But how do we know you two have the authority to stop the pranks or promote the festivals together?”

  Charlene’s mouth twisted.

  “They’ll listen to Charlene,” I said before she could argue. “She’s a respected member of the community.”

  “And?” Charlene prompted.

  “And the best piecrust maker on the Northern California coast,” I said.

  Charlene sniffed. “That is true.”

  My muscles loosened. Was this actually going to work? Since I suspected Charlene was really one of the driving forces behind the pranks, I thought it might.

  “Unless one of you jokers dropped a pumpkin on our ophthalmologist,” Charlene said. “Then the deal’s off.”

  “Why would we do that?” Red Hair asked.

  “I didn’t even know her,” Farmer John said.

  “What about the graffiti on the maze sign?” she asked.

  Farmer John’s mouth puckered. “That might have been a kid from our town. We’ll take care of it.”

  “Then okay,” she said. “It’s a deal.”

  He and Charlene clasped hands.

  Farmer John turned to Takako. “So, are we good?”

  She nodded. “We’re good.”

  Gordon stepped into the center of the maze. “What did I miss?”

  “We’re leaving.” Red Hair jerked his head at the hidden exit, and the two men fled.

  Gordon raised his brows. “Success?”

  “I think so,” I said.

  “Good.” He pulled me against his chest and kissed me.

  Frederick didn’t like that, so Frederick went on the ground. The cat curled into a ball on the flattened corn leaves.

  “Congratulations are in order for us both,” he murmured.

  Someone coughed nearby.

  “Takako,” Charlene said, “have I shown you this interesting feature of our corn maze . . .”

  Their voices faded, and Gordon and I kissed some more.

  I came up for air, weak-kneed and gasping. Gordon knew how to kiss. “From now on,” I said, my hands on his broad shoulders, “I’m taking more time off. I’m also telling you everything. Even if it does make me look neurotic.”

  “You’re not neurotic. You’ve worked hard to build Pie Town. And you’ve built a team to support you.”

  “And I’ll let them,” I said ruefully. It was time to cowgirl up and talk to Petronella. “From now on, I’m taking Tuesdays off and trusting my brilliant assistant manager to manage.”

  “Petronella will be
thrilled. And I won’t mind more quality time with you either.”

  “You won’t?” I teased, then blinked. “Hold up. You said congratulations for us both. Did you catch the killer?”

  “Not caught. Not yet. But I have a good idea who was responsible, and after a long conversation with the chief, he seems to agree. We’ve got an APB out.”

  “That’s great, but . . .” I gnawed my bottom lip. “Alfreda may be in danger.”

  “The office manager? Why?”

  “She may have been blackmailing the killer.”

  He stepped away from me. “You know who the killer is.”

  I glanced down at the flattened corn leaves. “Maybe. The point is, Alfreda was here, at the maze, the night I got pumpkin bombed. We were both wearing dark caps. From above, from a distance, we probably looked a lot alike. And if the person she was blackmailing—”

  “The person? You’re not going to say who it is, are you?”

  “—if the person she was blackmailing expected her to be there, they meant to kill her.” And no, I wasn’t going to tell him whom I suspected. What if I was wrong?

  “Alfreda was nervous,” I said. “She kept looking at her watch like she had somewhere to be. What if I scared her off, and then when I went into the maze, the killer fired the cannon meaning to target Alfreda?”

  “You think she’s in danger.”

  “Worse,” I said. “I think Alfreda’s here.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  The corn maze darkened. Involuntarily, Gordon and I glanced at the sky. The moon disappeared behind a thick wave of fog.

  He rubbed his temple. “If Alfreda came here to meet the killer once . . .”

  “Exactly.” I scanned the corn behind him. “Joy saw Alfreda and assumed she was part of our rescue party. But she’s not. So what is she doing here? And where is she?”

  “All right, I’m going to look for her.” He pointed at Charlene and Takako, pretending to examine an ear of corn. “You three stay together.” Gordon strode down the narrow shortcut leading to the barn.

  Charlene cocked her head, her phone gripped in her hands. “Of course, you realize, he didn’t tell us to stay here, only to stay together.”

  “If what you said is correct,” Takako said, “Alfreda could be in danger.”

  I retrieved a sleeping Frederick from the corn leaves and clutched his limp form to my chest. “If I’m right, we all could be. Come on.”