Town in a Pumpkin Bash (16 page)

“But…”

“Trust me,” Candy said emphatically. “Look, if you come back home now, you’ll always
regret missing that interview—and you’ll probably blame me for making you miss it.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” he said, sounding slightly wounded.

She softened her tone, and even found herself smiling a little. “Look, don’t worry
about me, okay? I’ll be fine. I’ve been through this before, remember? I know how
to handle myself. Besides, you’re going to hop on a plane the second that interview
is over, right? You’ll be back here in time for my birthday?”

She could almost see his expression lightening over the phone. “Absolutely. The moment
I shut off the recorder, I’m jumping in the rental car and speeding to the airport.”

“Well,” she said, smiling into the phone, “don’t drive too fast. We wouldn’t want
you getting a ticket and delayed even more.”

He was silent for a moment, as if still evaluating his decision. But finally he said,
“I’ll see you in a few days.”

“Okay,” she said. “Miss you.”

“Miss you too.”

Her smile disappeared as she keyed off the phone.

She knew he had a job to do—and she knew it was the right thing for him to stay on
the West Coast until he’d finished the interview. But still, it
would
be nice to have him here, just in case. After all, there
was
a murderer loose around town.

She thought back to the skeleton’s face in the window. Despite Doc’s skepticism, mimicking
what she knew his buddies were thinking privately, she was certain it had not been
an accident—a stray trick-or-treater randomly peering in that window.

Whatever it was—whoever it was—it had been watching them, watching what they were
doing.

She thought back to the stories they’d heard from the people who had stayed in the
house when they’d rented it out.

Was that the answer? Had someone actually, physically been “haunting” the place?

She shivered uncontrollably.

If so, who? And why?

Suddenly tired, she closed the Pruitt file, pulled the green rubber band back around
it, dropped it to the floor, and snuggled down under the covers after turning out
the light.

Whatever was going on, she’d figure it out in the morning.

But the morning brought no more answers than the night before.

She was up early, making coffee and a toasted English muffin spread thickly with her
own homemade blueberry jam, then heading outside to check on her chickens, all the
while thumbing through her smart phone, catching up on the weather and the latest
farm news as well as e-mails and text messages. There were half a dozen from Wanda
Boyle alone, most left the day before—but she’d already sent one this morning, Candy
noticed.

It was labeled
URGENT—PLEASE RESPOND!

That caught Candy’s eye, and she considered giving Wanda a call, just to get it over
with. But she hesitated, and ultimately decided to ignore the messages for now, just
as she’d done the day before. She knew she’d probably hear about it later—Wanda was
not the type of person who easily tolerated any sort of perceived slight—but Candy
wasn’t
ready to deal with her just yet. She had other, more pressing tasks on her plate this
morning.

Doc helped her load up the Jeep with boxes of items they planned to sell at the farm
stand, and after a few quick words together, he jumped into his truck, headed to the
diner for breakfast with the boys to catch up on the latest news, and Candy started
up the Jeep. She swung by Fowler’s Corner to pick up Maggie, and together they drove
out to the pumpkin patch, uncertain of what they’d find, or if they’d even be able
to open for the day.

The place was busier than they’d expected this early, but they weren’t completely
surprised. They’d anticipated a good crowd on this last weekend day before Halloween
and the town’s annual Pumpkin Bash celebration. These would also be the last few days
they’d sell pumpkins before closing down the patch for the season, and the townspeople
knew it, so they’d turned out in full force to get the final pickings.

And, Candy thought, some of them were probably curiosity seekers who wanted to see
if they could catch a glimpse of the latest crime scene in town.

The police were already in place, however, and apparently had no intention of letting
anyone get beyond them into High Field.

Candy spotted Chief Durr standing by his squad car near the farm stand, surrounded
by a small crowd of people, some with recorders and notebooks, others just hanging
around curiously. She pulled the Jeep to a stop nearby, at the edge of the patch,
since the parking lot was nearly full. As she shut off the engine and climbed out,
she could hear the chief speaking to the crowd.

“Now I’ve got nothing more to say at this time,” he said in an abrupt tone. “We released
a statement last night, and the investigation is continuing. I have nothing new to
report.”

There was a jumble of voices as several of the reporters fired questions at the chief,
with one voice overwhelming the others. “Can you confirm that the victim was in the
process of renting a local house that’s reported to be haunted?” inquired a tallish,
smartly dressed woman with shoulder-length blonde hair, attractively arranged.

“I’m not getting into that,” Chief Durr said tersely.

“What about the murder weapon?” asked a dark-haired man, who Candy believed was a
reporter for a Bangor newspaper.

“Now, I’m not going to answer any more questions at the moment,” the chief reiterated.
He was beginning to sound annoyed.

“Is Cape Willington turning into the murder capital of Maine?” asked the blonde woman
pointedly, shoving a small digital tape recorder closer to the chief’s face.

“Course not.” The chief threw her a sharp look. “Where’d you hear a thing like that?
It’s completely untrue.”

Nevertheless, Candy noticed, several people were jotting down notes on their pads.

“Is there any evidence this most recent murder is tied to the others that have occurred
in Cape Willington over the past two years?” the blonde woman pressed.

The chief gave her a tight smile. “Now, Ms. March, you know there’s no way I can answer
that at this time.”

“Are you going to hold a press conference?” she continued.

“Yes, this afternoon at four,” the chief confirmed. “It’ll be at the station. I’ll
see you all there, and provide any updates at that point.” He glanced around the group.
“That’s it for now, ladies and gentlemen.”

He turned away from the group, and seemingly appeased for the moment, the reporters
began to fan out across the field to other areas of the pumpkin patch, getting the
lay of the land and hunting down locals to interview.

Unfortunately, Chief Durr next headed directly to Candy and Maggie, a sour look on
his face.

Candy and Maggie both stopped in their tracks, hovering together as the chief approached
them.

When he was still several steps away, he touched the bill
of his hat. “Ladies.” He forced a smile and squinted against the brightening day,
though a chill lingered, and some of his words formed faint plumes in the clear air.
His clothes were wrinkled, his nose was red, and his eyes were watery. He looked like
he’d been up for a while. “We’re just about finished with the forensic part of the
investigation—and the rain has washed away most of what was left anyway—but we’re
going to keep that upper field cordoned off for the rest of the day, and perhaps for
the next few days, so no more hayriding up there. And I’d like to see if we can clear
some of this crowd out of here as quickly and as quietly as possible. I need your
help with that.”

“Of course, Chief,” Candy said solemnly. “What do you want us to do?”

“Just what you usually do. Help them make their choices and take their money, so we
can send them merrily on their way.” He glanced back over his shoulder. “They caught
us a little by surprise this morning. I thought about sending someone out to the junction
to turn cars away, but that might be counterproductive, so I’m gonna allow you to
do business this morning as usual. You can keep the farm stand open….”

“Thank you, Chief!” Maggie said, clasping her hands together and shaking them. “We
really do need to get some of these pumpkins out of here today, and we really do need
the money!”

“I understand that.” Chief Durr gave them both an appraising look. “But we need to
keep everything civil, right? Don’t want the situation to get out of hand, so let’s
keep the crowd numbers manageable. Move them through here quickly, like I said. And
if anyone asks about what’s going on, just tell them the police are investigating
a possible homicide, got it?” He nodded toward High Field. “I’m keeping my men in
place for now, so they’ll secure the area and turn away anyone who gets too close.”
He turned back to Candy. “I want all civilians to stay away from that field—including
you, Ms. Holliday. Right?”

“Right,” Candy said obediently.

“All right then.” After nodding to both of them, he stomped up through the field toward
his officers.

The moment he left, before Candy had a chance to breathe, the blonde-haired reporter
stepped into his place. She jabbed a well-manicured hand first toward Candy, then
at Maggie. They both shook with her hesitantly.

“Olivia March,
Boston Herald
,” she said, looking at both of them in turn. “You’re the ones who discovered the
body, right? Uncovered it from under that pile of pumpkins. That must have been pretty
horrific for you.” She said this lightly, as if she were commenting on the morning
traffic, or the weather, or what she’d had for breakfast. “So, which one of you is
Candy Holliday?”

After a few awkward moments, Candy spoke up. “That would be me.”

Olivia’s gaze turned to her, looking her up and down. “You’re the blueberry farmer,
right? And you write for the newspaper? You’re something of a local celebrity, aren’t
you?” She smiled as she spoke, and looked pleasant enough, but she also seemed hungry
for a story. “You’ve solved a few recent murders around town?”

“Just doing my civic duty,” Candy replied vaguely. “And I had lots of help.”

“So why do you think the body was buried here?” Olivia continued, asking the question
easily. “Seems strange, doesn’t it? Given your history with some of the other murders
in town?”

Candy felt uncomfortable with that. “I wouldn’t say I have a
history
with the other murders.”

“That’s not what I’ve heard,” Olivia said, still smiling warmly. She had dark brown
eyes, Candy noticed, and a mole—a beauty mark, some might call it—on her right cheek,
near the corner of her mouth. Her makeup gave her skin a creamy color. She pointed
down to her digital tape recorder. “Would you mind if I recorded our conversation?”
she asked.

Candy thought about it a moment, and finally shook her head. “I don’t think either
of us is ready to make a public statement right now. We’ve both talked to the police
about what happened, and we’ll let them handle everything from here on out.”

“The chief just told us to keep our noses out of it,” Maggie confirmed.

“Can I quote you on that?”

Maggie paused a moment, caught off guard. When, tight-lipped, she looked to her friend
for help in formulating a response, Candy said diplomatically, “The police are handling
the matter. It’d probably be best if you talked to them.”

Olivia pressed on, undeterred. “Well, then, can you tell me the condition of the body
when you found it? Was it—”

But she was interrupted by the sound of a deep beeping horn, which came from the direction
of the parking lot.

They all turned and watched as a multicolored minibus, filled with passengers, jounced
across the grassy parking lot, wending its way through all the other parked cars,
before it came to an abrupt stop at the edge of the pumpkin patch, not far from where
Candy had parked her Jeep.

After a few moments, the door flew open, and they heard a voice coming over the bus’s
intercom system.

“This is stop number four on this morning’s tour, the site of two deaths, including
one currently being investigated. We’ll be here for fifteen minutes, so you’ll have
enough time to look around before we continue our Halloween Mystery Tour. I’ll be
answering questions and conducting a brief tour, for those of you who are interested.
And I have several booklets for sale. Now, if you’ll all follow me out the door…”

A few moments later, Wanda Boyle, regaled in a retro-tourist-guide outfit in shades
of turquoise and orange, stepped off the bus, followed by nearly a dozen passengers.