Pumpkins are Murder Read online

  “No I can’t,” she whispered. “I really can’t.” She shuddered at the thought.

  “Anyway, Jessie. It looks like the last band is here. I don’t see your aunt with them.” He stopped and frowned. “Jessie, I wonder if you’d do me a favor. People have a habit of lingering at these events, you see, and on this occasion, I’d really prefer it if they’d make their way home.” He stopped and wiped his brow. “Failing that, it would be good if they moved off Spring Street.”

  She nodded. She really wasn’t following what he was saying but it seemed to make sense. She just didn’t know why he was going to such lengths to tell her about the idea circumstances after a murder. Then it dawned on her.

  “You want me to try and get them away,” she said. “I can’t imagine how.”

  He shook his head. “I can’t either, but we’ve got to do something. It’s too bad your aunt’s not here because I’m sure she’d know what to do.”

  “You know what she’s like,” Jessie laughed. “I’m sure she got chatting to somebody on the street. Who knows how long she’ll linger there?”

  “That’s my point, Jessie. I need to get this street clear as soon as possible. It’s not so much the adults I’m worried about as the kids.”

  Jessie looked around wondering how on earth she might go about clearing a street of thousands of people. She was at a loss. Then her eyes landed on the loudspeakers on the top of the chief’s police cruiser.

  A plan started to form.

  “Chief,” she whispered, pointing at the car. “I think I have an idea.”

  “Go on.”

  She hesitated. She would never have considered voicing such a nutty idea out loud when she was still living back in the city and working in her stuffy job in insurance. Now, though, she’d been exposed to the rough and tumble ways of Springdale for over a year. Nothing seemed so nutty anymore.

  Chief Daly was watching her intently.

  Jessie smiled. “Do you have any objection to giving Miss Pumpkin a ride back to Main Street in the trunk?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t, as it happens. Usually I’d have weapons in there, but I made sure to clear everything into the lockup back at the station before the parade.”

  Jessie smiled.

  “What is it you’re proposing? No offense, but I’m not sure the sight of you crammed into my trunk will be enough to entice people away.”

  She laughed. “You’d be surprised. I imagine it’ll be a pretty terrifying sight: an almost forty-year-old woman in an ugly prom dress crammed into the trunk of a police cruiser. I’m sure there have been less scary horror movies.” She stopped when she saw the impatience on his face. “I’ve got this, Chief. I’ll tell you what to say, just give me two minutes to run an idea past Julia and Mel. Let me run over there and talk to them and I’ll be back here before you can get in that car and get the engine started.

  7

  If Jessie had believed the day couldn’t get weirder, that was before she’d come up with the idea of riding in the trunk of a police cruiser along the parade route as the chief announced that the Bakehouse was doing half-price pumpkin pancakes, which would be free to the first twenty people to make it in the door.

  She popped her head out the kitchen door as she wrapped her apron over the pumpkin-colored monstrosity. There was no time to change, not if they wanted to deal with the surge of customers that had crowded into the café.

  “Pumpkin pancakes? I ask you, Jessie. What were you thinking?”

  Mel came to her cousin’s defense. “Not everybody agrees with you. Take a look out at the café.”

  Bee shuffled to the swinging door after she had taken off her coat. She peeped out. “My goodness. I’ve never seen the place so busy.”

  “That’s the power of free pancakes,” Jessie said, her arm sore from vigorously stirring her third batch of pumpkin batter. “They’re actually delicious. I take it you heard the word on the street.”

  Bee smiled and shook her head as if she could scarcely believe it. “I thought I was having some sort of episode when I turned to see what the racket was and saw my niece being driven down the street in the trunk of my husband’s car while he offered free pancakes at my café. Now, I take it you’re not out to ruin me.”

  “Of course not,” Jessie said with a smile. “It’s my café too, remember? I’d never do anything to hurt our business. Have you spoken to the chief?”

  “I tried him on his cellphone but it went to voicemail. I figured he was here with you.”

  Jessie sighed. This wasn’t the first time she’d had to break the news of a murder, but it was not the sort of thing that became any easier with time. “There’s been a murder, Aunt Bee. That’s the whole reason for this special offer. I wouldn’t have opened the café otherwise. And as for pumpkin pancakes, well they were the only Halloween themed goodie I knew we could whip up in bulk in a hurry.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure it seemed easier in your head than it did in practice,” Mel muttered as she furiously beat a bowl of batter before dropping it in line beside the stove and going to start the process again.

  Julia stood at the stove in command of four skillets of pancakes. “Ever heard of a hot plate you guys?” she gasped, wiping her brow with her forearm.

  “We’ve never had the need. We’re not a short-order diner.” Bee threw on an apron and went to look in the refrigerator for more pumpkin puree. “Okay, ladies. Looks like you’ve got the pancakes under control. I’ll start working up some pumpkin pies. If the crowd dies down before they’re done then we can serve them as our sweet special tomorrow.”

  That was the last any of them spoke for at least another hour. They worked like clockwork, each doing their part and taking turns to hurry out to the café floor to deliver the goodies to an impatient crowd.

  To Jessie’s amazement, her on-the-fly pumpkin pancake recipe was a hit with the town: it seemed like all of Springdale had clustered in the vicinity of the Bakehouse and remained there for some time.

  “Nice work, Jessie,” Chief Daly said when he popped into the café much later that evening.

  They had just about worked their way through the mountain of plates and mixing bowls that had built up in the kitchen.

  She smiled, shaking out her arm as she sat down with coffees for them both. “Thanks. It worked better than I expected.”

  “It did,” he said. “Every parent in town must have brought their kid here. We were able to process the crime scene without any little eyes seeing something they shouldn’t.”

  “Good,” Jessie said, clasping her mug. She was now more tired than she ever remembered feeling. She was still wearing the orange gown: with all of the chaos, there just hadn’t been time for her to change out of it.

  “You got any of those pancakes left? I’ve been thinking about them ever since I went back to the crime scene.”

  “Sorry,” she said with a shrug. “We could barely keep pace with the orders. Aunt Bee whipped up some pumpkin pies, though. There’s still some left—I think.”

  He nodded. “That’ll do nicely.”

  She was about to get up and go find him a piece when curiosity got the better of her. “I have just one question, Chief. Who was killed?”

  He shook his head, staring at it his coffee mug as if he was seeking answers from within it. “It’s a terrible business. I know a lot of people had mixed feelings about the man, but he was just doing his job at the end of the day. It’s like parking enforcers: you really think they like what they do for a living?”

  At any other time, Jessie might have commented that yes, she truly believed that parking enforcers were some kind of especially cruel species sent to earth for the sole purpose of torturing her. Now, though, she had far more important matters on her mind.

  Chief Daly must have sensed her impatience. “Sorry, honey. You know I tend to say what I feel. It was Albert Parker. You know, he runs—ran—the bank here in town.”

  Jessie gasped, though she was not quite as surprised a
s she might otherwise have been. She had, after all, been privy to two different stories about the man’s ruthless ways and that was just in the past week. She told the chief what she had heard.

  He nodded ruefully. “Don’t I know it? We’re still waiting on access to his emails and phone records, but I have a feeling that two suspects are only the tip of the iceberg. I’ve even had complaints come in at the police station about his conduct. Not that we’d ever have been able to act on complaints of rudeness, mind. Still, it doesn’t make my job any easier when the victim was so universally disliked.” He shook his head and glanced back toward the kitchen door. “About that pie, Jessie. I’m going to need all the strength I can get over the next few days and weeks. I can tell you now this won’t be an easy case to solve.”

  “Coming right up,” she said, standing up and grinning. She thought of something and her expression grew serious.

  “Come on!” Chief Daly said before she could get another word out. “You already asked your question. I’ll tell you anything you want to know after I’ve had my pumpkin pie.”

  8

  “Jessie, it’s very off-putting to have someone stare you down like this when you’re trying to eat.”

  “Sorry,” she said, looking away. Secretly she wished he’d hurry up and eat but she had no intention of telling him that. It would only make him slow down. She didn’t understand it: when she was hungry she couldn’t help but wolf down her food. The chief had said he hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast and yet here he was, savoring every—

  “Jessie!”

  “Sorry!” she gasped, standing and pacing the empty café floor. They’d been closed up for hours, having run out of most of the ingredients for pancakes. Jessie would need to take a break from her demolition work the following morning and go to the supermarket first thing as the wholesaler delivery wasn’t due for another two days.

  Finally, Chief Daly finished eating and dropped his fork before leaning back in his chair with a satisfied sigh. “You’d never think she made that pie in a hurry. If anything, it tasted even better than they usually do.”

  “Probably because you hadn’t eaten all day, Chief.”

  “Maybe. Anyway, what was it you wanted to know?”

  Jessie threw herself down in the chair in front of him. “How about everything? You said they found him in Groom Street. What happened? Have you pieced together the events leading up to it yet?”

  Chief Daly threw his head back and laughed. “Goodness, no. It’s the weekend. The murder only happened earlier today. No, I’ve put it in as a rush job, but I don’t expect to hear back from the lab until tomorrow evening at the very earliest.”

  Jessie heaved a disappointed sigh.

  “But I can,” he said, leaning forward and putting his elbows on the table. “I can tell you what we found at the scene. I take it we’ll make our usual arrangement?”

  Jessie’s eyes gleamed as she wasted no time in nodding her agreement. In previous murder cases, Chief Daly had taken her on as a civilian admin assistant at the police station—unpaid, of course. That had allowed her to help out on some of the cases. Springdale wasn’t exactly murder central, so big important cases like that were always a strain on the chief’s resources. Not only that, but people seemed more likely to relax with Jessie and let something slip—she guessed it was the fact that she didn’t wear a uniform and carry a gun.

  “Yes. Yes, of course.”

  “Okay,” he said, with his usual slow smile. “Let me see. You’re going to find this one a conundrum, I think. You know what Groom Street is like. There’s not a lot going on down there. It was busier today even if it wasn’t at the heart of the action.

  She nodded, remembering the food stands she had seen around there. “It was certainly quiet. Apart from the taco truck, the food stalls there weren’t seeing much business.”

  “That’s it. If you were going to murder somebody on Groom Street, would you choose Parade Day? Officer Kendall made subtle inquiries of the people still lingering around. Nobody saw a thing. And it’s not the sort of thing you’d forget; seeing a grown man bludgeoned to death with a pumpkin.”

  Jessie jolted in astonishment, sending coffee spurting from both nostrils before she could stop it. Chief Daly’s top lip curled up in disgust.

  “What?! You sort of sprung that on me. I’m not sure I heard you correctly. For a moment I thought you said the murder weapon was a pumpkin.”

  Chief Daly didn’t laugh at her, though. All he did was nod. “Yup.”

  “A pumpkin. Please tell me this is all a dream. Pumpkins don’t…” She remembered carving pumpkin lanterns for the tables in the café the previous week. They might have seemed hard and durable, but she knew well they were delicate when any kind of force was applied—as evidenced by the pile of rejected pumpkins out the back of the café. It was a good thing they’d had so much demand for the pumpkin pancakes because they had an endless supply of pumpkin puree. She’d ruined so many lanterns by being too forceful with the darn things.

  “That’s what I thought when I first saw it. Pete was flummoxed too. An intact pumpkin at the scene. We thought it must have been some kind of strange calling card.”

  Jessie shivered. “It must have been. I don’t think a pumpkin could cause that much damage. It would just shatter into pieces.”

  Chief Daly took a sip of coffee and shook his head. “That’s exactly what we thought. But there it is. It’s the only thing we found at the scene.”

  Jessie dropped her cup on the table with a clatter. “But it would have burst! No doubt about it!”

  He nodded. “I agree.”

  “So what are you telling me?”

  He shook his head. “We’ll have to wait and see what the coroner and the tech team can find.”

  Jessie couldn’t help but shake her head at the memory of a sea of orange in the crowd earlier that day. “Maybe it was part of somebody’s costume? I mean, all I could see earlier was people dressed in orange. They could have lost their tempers and lashed out. It still doesn’t explain how the pumpkin didn’t explode on impact.”

  “So what do you think; they saw him and decided to follow him into the street where an altercation took place?”

  She shrugged. “It makes sense. If it was premeditated, why on earth wouldn’t they choose a more conventional weapon?”

  Chief Daly sighed. “It’s certainly one of the stranger crimes I’ve seen happen here in Springdale. And here I was, looking forward to a peaceful first Halloween with Beatrice and eating my own bodyweight in pumpkin pie.”

  “You can still do that,” Jessie said doubtfully. “Well, eat your own body weight in pie at least. And I suppose you can spend lots of quality time with my aunt when all this is over.”

  “When,” he repeated, sounding very doubtful that that would be anytime soon.

  “You’ll get to the bottom of it.”

  “I’m not sure about that.” He sighed. “You better pass me another slice of that delicious pumpkin pie. It may be the last chance I get to enjoy it.”

  9

  Things got even weirder the next day when they got access to Albie Parker’s emails and cellphone records.

  Jessie shook her head in disbelief as she finished skimming through one particularly nasty exchange between the victim and one of his colleagues. “I know I’ve had some strained email conversations in my time working in insurance, but it was always limited to a handful of disgruntled colleagues or clients. This is something else! It seems like Albie was on bad terms with everybody from the CEO of the bank to every customer he had in Springdale. I thought small town bank managers were supposed to be friendly characters. At least, that’s the stereotype I’ve always believed.”

  The chief nodded. “His predecessor certainly fell into that category. I don’t know, Jessie. It seems like these big companies don’t value their customers at all anymore; not really. Oh sure, their adverts on the TV are all cuddly and caring, but actions speak louder than words. And t
he bank appointing a man like Albie to that job really spoke volumes.”

  “He really did manage to alienate people. I told you what I overheard in the café that day. And what Julia’s employee had to deal with. I don’t know; it seems as if there was a long line of people who might have felt the need to take the law into their own hands. Of course, it still doesn’t explain the pumpkin.”

  “No it doesn’t,” Chief Daly said, rubbing his chin. “But I’ve just received an email from the coroner’s office. It seems we’re not the only ones intrigued by the pumpkin.”

  “And?”

  He laughed. “These things take time. But they did find something interesting. All they found in his pockets was a business card. No keys. No wallet. No cellphone.”

  Jessie shook her head. “Who leaves home without all of those things?”

  “Not many people in this day and age,” Chief Daly said, focusing on the screen as he typed with his two index fingers. “They didn’t say what the business card was for. I’ll find out. If it wasn’t for that pumpkin I would have said it was a robbery since his cards and cellphone are missing.”

  Jessie bit her lip and returned her attention to the printouts she was reading. She sucked in a sharp breath. “It looks like we can add his assistant to the list of people who might have had a grudge against him. This email is from the day before the murder. He scolded her for printing personal items in the office for her friend’s bachelorette party and told her he’d be opening an official inquiry on Monday. Is it worth looking into this?”

  “Officer Stanley already spoke to her. She has an alibi. She was watching the parade from that new bar on Spring Street. Her friends have vouched for her and she has credit card receipts from the bar before and after the murder. I’ve asked the bar for their CCTV footage to make sure she was there the whole time she said she was there.”