Pumpkins are Murder (Bee's Bakehouse Mysteries Book 8) Read online

  It was not looking good.

  “Well you must remember something about it,” Jessie said, trying a different approach.

  Julia smirked and shook her head. “I really can’t recall. I’m like a politician on trial, huh?”

  “You’re not fooling anybody,” Jessie said, unable to keep from laughing. Her friend really was a terrible liar.

  “I don’t know what you mean. You know what my memory is like!”

  “Exactly,” Jessie said, fearing she might as well give up on finding out anything useful. “It’s usually flawless. Remember last month at that quiz? We came first because of you. You aced it! And those questions weren’t easy.”

  Julia shook her head. “Quit worrying. Anyway, what else is new with you? I feel like I’ve barely seen you since you started the renovation work.”

  “I know, right? I’ve been spending all my spare time over at Lindemann’s.”

  “It’s not spare time if it’s time you’d otherwise use to eat and sleep, Jessie.”

  “I know. But it’s only for a short time. I promise.”

  “I’m going to hold you to that. Oh wow, these muffins are delicious! It’s rare that you ever have stuff left over at the end of the day. What happened? Slow day at the office?”

  “You could say that,” Jessie said, frowning. “There was a bit of a war in the café earlier. Word must have spread because I’ve never seen the place so quiet.”

  “No way! Who was arguing? You and Bee?”

  Jessie laughed. “Of course not! I’m not talking about a little bickering; this was a full-blown shouting match. Of course, this was just before Bee and the chief told me about how they volunteered me for the parade so they were hiding in the kitchen, avoiding me for as long as possible.”

  “Forget about that,” Julia gasped. “Who was arguing?”

  “Albie Parker from the bank and Jeff Morton. It really surprised me.”

  Julia’s expression darkened. “Really? Were you surprised? That Albie Parker guy is bad news.”

  “What has he done?” Jessie tried not to get involved in town gossip, but this was different. Julia wasn’t in the habit of bad-mouthing people. Jessie was intrigued.

  Julia leaned closer and lowered her voice to little more than a whisper. “What hasn’t he done?”

  “Why are you whispering? He’s not here, is he?”

  Julia glanced over her shoulder. “No, but Daryl is.” Daryl was the part-time store assistant Julia had hired a few months back.

  “So? Is she related to him or something?”

  Julia snorted. “Don’t let her hear you say that. No, she’s most certainly not related to him. She confided in me recently. He’s the reason why she had to come looking for a part-time job, though I’ve been over the moon about it. She used to run a little printing business from home, you see. It was all running like clockwork until she took out a bank loan to expand.”

  “Uh-huh,” Jessie murmured, getting a sinking feeling that she didn’t like where this was going. Being a small business owner herself, she hated hearing stories about other people’s dreams being shattered.

  “Yeah,” Julia said, nodding. “I can see from your face that you know where this is going. She did a job for a big company over in Rockfield. They didn’t pay her, but she still had to pay her own suppliers for materials. She missed one month’s loan repayment and Parker came after her with everything he had. She ended up having to sell off her equipment and wind down the business to prevent him from taking her home. That was her security for the loan.”

  Jessie whistled. “My goodness.” She looked around and saw Daryl was a safe distance away, reordering books on the shelf beside the door.

  “Yeah, and apparently she’s not the only one. He’s getting quite a reputation around town for being completely unreasonable.” Julia shuddered. “I just hope the day doesn’t come where I can’t make my repayments.”

  “I hope so too,” Jessie said. “Now. Are you sure you won’t tell me what this parade involves? I’ve looked online but I can’t find any photos of previous years’ parades.”

  Julia bit her lip and it was clear that she was trying to stop herself from laughing. “Just go with it, okay? You’ll look lovely.”

  “Aunt Bee mentioned a costume.”

  “It’s just a figure of speech.”

  “What?”

  “You know.”

  “No I don’t! Where I come from, a costume is something you wear; something that’s different from a person’s normal clothes.”

  “You’re thinking too much.”

  “Am I?” Jessie groaned. “You’re all acting so weird that I can’t even begin to imagine what this parade involves.”

  4

  Jessie was so busy for the rest of the week that she didn’t have much time to think about the parade. Or anything that wasn’t the café or the renovation for that matter.

  Lindemann’s had been signed over to Jessie several months before after the previous owner had some legal trouble. That might sound like a dream come true, but in reality it was anything but. The whole functions area had been ruined in a fire. The restaurant was intact and she had kept it open, but word had gotten around about the fire and people seemed reluctant to come and eat when the other half of the building was a charred eyesore. She could have shut the place down, of course, but she didn’t see that as an option—too many people’s livelihoods depended on the place.

  On the morning of the parade, she was almost looking forward to taking a break from the renovation work. After all, it wasn’t like she was just overseeing construction workers. She couldn’t spare the cash for the demolition so she was pulling out as much of the damaged drywall and flooring as she could manage herself. She was exhausted.

  She realized her naivety just as soon as she entered Aunt Bee’s house. This parade was not going to be a fun break from the real world.

  “Oh my goodness,” she muttered, wondering if she could run away and put back on her overalls and work boots.

  Because hanging in front of her was the most hideous gown she had ever seen. It was like something out of an eighties prom movie, but with more satin and more netting underneath.

  Her cousin Mel appeared with a wide smirk on her face. “And you thought your actual prom dress was bad, huh?”

  Jessie shook her head, still staring at the thing in disbelief. “My prom was in the nineties. Things have improved a lot since then even though I still cringe when I see pictures from that night… I’m sorry; I can’t keep up a conversation when I’m looking at this thing. How on earth did they find fabric the exact color of a pumpkin? And more importantly, why would anyone want to do a thing like that?”

  Mel shook her head just as the door opened and Aunt Bee’s head poked out.

  “I thought I heard you come in.”

  Bee had moved into Chief Daly’s house as soon as they came back from their honeymoon cruise, which thankfully had been less disastrous than the cruise Jessie and Bee had taken the year before.

  “Mm-hmm,” Jessie said. She was so shell-shocked by the sight of that hideous dress that she didn’t have any actual words at her disposal.

  “Ah,” Bee said, following her niece’s gaze. “I see you’ve spotted your gown.”

  “Yeah,” Jessie said faintly. “It’d be hard to miss it. From space.”

  Mel laughed. “Oh you ain’t seen nothing yet, cuz. Wait until you see the bonnet that goes with it!”

  Jessie couldn’t help but laugh. It wasn’t that there was anything remotely funny about the situation; it was more like a nervous reaction to being confronted with something so visually appalling. Then something dawned on her.

  “Wait a minute. How do you know so much about this? Bee never told me about a bonnet. If you’re so well-versed in Miss Pumpkin, why don’t you step up and do it?”

  Mel grinned. “I thought you’d say that. Why do you think I’ve made myself scarce over the past few weeks, huh? I was in town for the parade l
ast year. They tried to get me to do it then and I almost agreed.”

  “Come on now, Jessie,” Aunt Bee scolded as if she was an errant teen and not a grown woman with two businesses to try and keep afloat. “Hurry up and try it on. I sent your measurements to the seamstress to adjust it, but you’ve…” She paused and looked Jessie up and down.

  “I’ve gained some weight, I know,” Jessie said, taking the… thing off the hanger. “Let’s hope I’ve gained more weight than either of us thought,” she muttered. “Mel, we might need you to step up and be Miss Pumpkin after all.”

  Of course, Jessie had no such luck. Aunt Bee had somehow gotten her measurements perfect and the gown fit like a glove.

  An extremely ugly glove.

  It really was the epitome of eighties fashion. The sleeves puffed out to about five times the size of Jessie’s upper arms. The fabric was an unnaturally shiny satin, rendered matte in patches from wear. It might have been slightly more flattering if it swept all the way to the floor, but it only reached Jessie’s mid-calf, which was definitely not a length she considered flattering.

  “What’s with all these worn patches?” she asked, staring at herself in the mirror.

  “Oh those,” Bee said breezily. “Well the gown’s been around the block, so to speak. It was donated by the town for the very first Pumpkin Parade. It’s been adjusted for the new Miss Pumpkin ever since then.”

  “See, Jessie,” Mel grinned. “You’re wearing a real piece of Springdale history.”

  Jessie could only glare at her cousin.

  “Oh look at the time. Let me find the bonnet.”

  Jessie thought it couldn’t get worse, but then Bee emerged from the spare room carrying a battered hat box. Bee lifted the lid to reveal a strange bonnet-like thing, puffy like the dress and in the same vile orange color.

  At that moment, Jessie would have chosen to spend the rest of her life knee-deep in construction dust rather than be seen in that monstrosity.

  5

  “Come on, Jessie,” Mel urged. “It’s not all bad. At least Mike’s away on business.”

  Jessie shook her head. She had been helped up onto the back of a hired flatbed truck which had been draped in orange crepe paper for the occasion. Someone had put a chair from the Bakehouse in the center—it too was draped in crepe paper. To complete the full-on orange offensive, someone had taped orange balloons to the cab behind her.

  “At least I’m camouflaged by all this orange,” she muttered, wishing Mel would go and find something else to entertain herself with instead of walking alongside the make-shift float, which was traveling at around two miles an hour.

  “Nah, you’re not camouflaged, honey. I can see you quite clearly. Wave to the camera!”

  At this, Jessie rolled her eyes, smiled and decided to just go with it. After all, the whole point of the Pumpkin Parade was to raise money for charity.

  “That’s the spirit,” Mel cried. “Work it for the camera. Come on, pumpkin.”

  “I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure you’re Miss Pumpkin next year, Mel.”

  Then she focused and started to wave as the truck made its way around the corner onto Spring Street. The crowds surprised her even though she knew they shouldn’t have. After all, half of the stores in the town had been decked out in Hallowe’en decorations ever since the middle of September. The Bakehouse had been serving Halloween-themed food for weeks. The whole town was Halloween mad.

  Still, it was a sight to behold. Every inch of the street was crammed full of people. Some of them were dressed head-to-toe in orange—a minority—but everyone seemed to at least have an orange flag or balloon in their hands and most of the children were in fancy dress, giving their costumes a trial run before trick-or-treat time.

  Jessie smiled and reached forward, digging into one of the painted buckets that had been secured to the truck bed in front of her chair. She filled her hand with wrapped candy and flung it toward the crowd, cringing as she did so. She half-expected a health and safety officer to jump out and have a stern word with her, even though Bee and the chief had assured her that no one in their right mind would dream of admonishing Miss Pumpkin for throwing candies as part of the Pumpkin Parade.

  “Work it, Jessie!” someone cried from the crowd.

  Ken Dobbs from the Springdale Chronicle hurried forward, camera in hand. “Give me a good picture for the next edition, Jessie!”

  She cringed inwardly but kept on smiling. After all, it would be a damn sight worse if she sat there with a miserable expression on her face.

  She supposed that was the benefit of age—she really didn’t care what anybody thought of her. If she’d been cajoled into doing the same thing fifteen years ago she would have been beyond embarrassed.

  Jessie settled into a routine of throwing candies to either side of her, aiming for groups of children, though she was surprised to see many of the adults grappling for the orange drops and chocolate candies.

  She began to relax. Everyone seemed to be having such a good time that it was impossible not to enjoy the day.

  They crawled along Spring Street and the crowd began to thin out slightly as they passed the midpoint of the route. She was surprised to see Cassie Baker sitting behind one of the food stands that had been set up for the occasion. Cassie’s little store sold artisan cookies. They were delicious, but Jessie had once inquired about stocking them in the café. At those prices, Jessie wasn’t surprised there was no line at the stall.

  Then again, the ice-cream stand a few yards back from Cassie’s cookie stall had looked quiet too. But there was probably a good reason for that: they were in the middle of a cold snap.

  The taco truck parked further along seemed to be doing a brisk trade. The truck was moving so slowly that Jessie was able to read the menu board above the serving window. Her mouth started to water at the thought of a carnitas taco with slaw—it had been a long time since they did a taco special at the café, mainly because Jessie couldn’t be trusted to stop sampling the delicious slow-cooked meat.

  “Candies!” someone shouted. “More candies!”

  Jessie started and reached both hands into the buckets. She threw them ahead and watched with delight as the kids scrambled forward. There was enough distance between her and the band following her that she didn’t need to worry about anyone getting squashed.

  She glanced back and saw that the cookie stand was unattended.

  Cassie must have decided to give up rather than lower her prices, she thought.

  There was another howl from the crowd: Jessie’s daydreaming had obviously affected her candy-throwing speed. Sheepishly, Jessie reached into her buckets and found them almost empty. She distributed what she had left and then turned to bang on the cab window, the signal that she needed more candy.

  As she waited for Chad to hand through the bag, her eyes spotted something in the crowd. She wasn’t sure whether it was the fact that he was dressed in very unfestive black, or that he was moving very quickly compared to the rest of the revelers. She watched, growing entranced by the man’s progress. It looked like he was running late for an important appointment the way he was scurrying along. She didn’t even know who it was: he had a black cap pulled down over his ears and he was quite far away from her now.

  If she had been forced to describe him, she might have noted his resemblance to a cat burglar.

  She soon forgot about the man when Chad opened the window and handed her a bag of candies. Jessie had work to do, if the screams of the candy-hungry crowd were anything to go by. She quickly filled the buckets and got back to work.

  6

  “It’s tough work being a pumpkin,” Jessie remarked, jumping down off the back of the truck.

  The one small mercy of her outfit was that the previous Miss Pumpkin had knocked the heel off the orange satin pumps that had formed the third part of the costume so Bee had allowed her to wear her own nude-colored sandals.

  They had pulled up into the old bus termi
nal, where all of the floats and participants were congregating after the parade. She frowned at the grim expression on the chief’s face as he stood watching.

  “Hey come on, Chief. Why do you look so unhappy? At least you don’t have to wear this.” She pointed to her gown.

  Chief Daly shook his head as Mel and Julia turned to look at him.

  Jessie immediately sensed that something was wrong. “What is it, Chief?”

  He jerked his head toward his cruiser, which had led the Miss Pumpkin truck up the street as part of the parade. He had already pulled off the orange streamers they had earlier draped from the roof. Jessie hurried over to him.

  “Jessie.”

  “What is it, Chief? You’re scaring me.”

  He nodded curtly. “I imagine I don’t seem very festive right now. There’s been a murder, you see.”

  She gasped. “What? Where?”

  He shook his head. There was a smile playing at the corners of his mouth but it was a nervous smile more than anything. “On Groom Street.”

  “But there’s nothing there!” she protested. “Except for one or two stores that rarely ever open. And it’s on the parade route. We literally just passed it five minutes ago. What happened?”

  Chief Daly sucked air in through his teeth, his frustration obvious. “I wish I could tell you more. Luckily Officer Kendall came on the scene quite by chance. I’ve had him cordon off public access until the parade passes.” He leaned closer. “This is an important day in the town calendar. For the sake of five minutes until the last floats get here, I think they can spare me at the scene.”

  Jessie shook her head. She wasn’t thinking of the logistics of the police investigation—far from it. She was wondering how another murder could have happened in a small, quiet place like Springdale.

  “Who was it?” she whispered.

  He shook his head. “I don’t know yet. Pete and I spoke briefly on the phone. I didn’t want to delay matters just in case a kid wandered onto the scene. I can only say we’re lucky that it happened down there rather than on Spring Street. Can you even imagine…?”