Punked by the Pumpkin: A Cozy Mystery (Sweet Home Mystery Series Book 4) (3 page)

He smiled and shook his head, but I wasn’t so sure it was funny.

“What?” he asked me, noticing my serious expression.

“I think Miss Pickles may have seen it too.”

Eli had to consider it. “Maybe so. She’s right next to Dad’s house, and something sure spooked that mangy old cat.”

“Ooh. Don’t let Harvey hear you talking like that about your sister that way. Miss Pickles is probably already his primary heir as it is.”

“Probably so,” Eli agreed with a chuckle. But whatever it takes to ensure that he doesn’t leave me that golf cart with the shark fin on top is a good thing…Unless, of course, you want me to pick you up in ‘Sharkie’ for all of our dates?”

A shiver ran down my spine. “I’m good. Miss Pickles can have the cart.”

The pizza arrived, slowing conversation down to a trickle for several minutes, but I wasn’t done squeezing Eli for information.

“So what else? And what do you think is going on?”

“Well, there is one more thing. You know that old chapel right inside the cemetery gate?”

“You mean the one that looks like the Bate’s Motel?”

“That’s probably the one, since it’s the only one. Well, Trevor says he and some of the other guys have seen dim lights inside going on and off, and when they went close to look in the window, he says they could hear the sound of a baby crying coming from the inside.”

“This is all getting to be too much for the imagination to handle, Eli. It keeps getting more and more creepy for a while, but at this point it just seems like a joke. I’m sure it’s just the boys trying to freak out the girls. That’s still where most of the high school smooching goes on in this town. The guys must just be having their buddies trying to scare their girlfriends so they’ll get closer to them.”

“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking at first too. But Trevor says no, and I tend to believe him.”

“Why?“

“Well, for starters, all of the cheerleaders are in a volunteer group that does grave maintenance to keep the cemetery neat, and they even pull weeds around the headstones and maintain the flower gardens there, which have been hit hard by the vandals. Any guy who wants a chance to go smooching with one of them isn’t going to destroy the girls’ hard work. Besides, these girls know the cemetery inside and out, and they don’t get spooked there at all. It seems that it’s the boys that are getting nervous, especially since the mysterious lights and the ghost baby have come to the abandoned chapel.”

It had crossed my mind earlier that maybe after dinner Eli and I could park by the old chapel for a kiss or two. And maybe not.

Chapter Three

Tuesday morning came around, and I’d had enough of their silent game. Essie and Hildie, along with a couple dozen other seniors in Sweet Home, still hadn’t spoken a word, and Harvey and Toe weren’t giving us any information about what was going on either…but it must have had something to do with Tuesday Night Bingo at the church.

I was in early for the morning rush hour coffee sales, and Essie and Hildie walked in at 9 o’clock sharp with freshly baked muffins and other goodies. They had knit winter scarves wrapped around their necks now, and I had half a mind to pull them tight. It was just two days until the Harvest Festival, and we were going to have a strategy meeting today, come heck or high water. As soon as the old girls got inside, I locked the door behind them and turned the sign to
Closed.

I was standing in front of the front door with my arms crossed when they came back to the entrance after setting the muffins on the counter. I shook my head and pointed to our table behind them.

“Meeting time, ladies.” I tried to be firm but businesslike and not show my anger.

I took each of their arms and escorted them to our table. “Sit…please. We have to talk about the Harvest Festival today. It starts on Thursday and runs through the weekend.”

They sat down and I gave them a serious big-eyed stare. “Stay.”

I was going to get coffee, which they hadn’t been drinking for a week, but then I had a different idea. I brought them each a cup of apple-mint tea with a spoon in it and squeezed a couple circles of honey into the steaming tea. Then I plopped a small ice cube into each cup to cool it down a bit. To my astonished bewilderment, they each took a big sip.

“Ladies, the Harvest Festival starts
very soon
, and it’s our busiest time of the year. The golf cart parade with all of the seniors in their carts starts right out here on the corner, and the whole town will be lined up along Sunshine Avenue for the a couple hours for the parade. We will be very busy. We will need both of you outside taking orders, one person inside waiting tables, and at least two behind the counter filling the orders. We need to go with a smaller, more streamlined menu that day, so we have to decide what we will serve and what we won’t. We will need a lot of muffins and cookies and other snacks too. Now, first of all, can I count on you for your help?”

They both drank their tea down to the bottom of the cup and then stood up. Essie went behind the counter and grabbed a handful of teabags. Hildie wrapped the squeezable honey dispenser in a napkin and put it in her purse. Then they both headed for the front door, unlocked it, turned the sign to
Open
, and left.

I collapsed into one of the chairs and just sat there until a steady trail of tears started rolling down my cheeks. My usual strength turned to helplessness and my anger to sadness. I just couldn’t do it anymore. With the unstoppable freight train of time on a collision course I felt helpless and alone in a situation I couldn’t handle. First fear and then panic set it.

It was as if my silent cry for help was heard by my dearest friend in the world, and the back door opened.

“Jules, you must be psychic, or else we’re twins who were separated at birth.” I was a mess.

She took my hand and pulled me up to give me a big hug. “Yeah…or else I just saw your aunts drive off in their golf cart from my shop next door.”

That brought me a much-needed giggle.

“I was pretty sure your do-or-die meeting hadn’t gone the way you’d hoped since they were only here for a few minutes.”

“You’re always here when I need you, Jules.”

“And you’re always there for me. That’s what friends are for. Now, sit. I’ll get you some coffee.”

“Tea.” Jules usually drank tea in the morning, so I figured I should see how the other half lives. “And honey.”

“Look, Lily…” Jules sat down with two cups of tea, a jar of honey, and some spoons. “…I’m going to be closed next door during the parade. Nobody is going to be buying party supplies then, and I’m delaying the newspaper until Friday so I can include pictures from the parade. So, I’m going to help you here at the Coffee Cabana. Moira says she’ll help too if her parents don’t need her at the rental shop, and I think you should ask Eli to get Trevor to help here too. Maybe he can tell him it’s some kind of training thing for studying crowd behavior and human interactions.”

Don’t question it, Lily; don’t ask her if she’s sure – she is! Just accept it. It’s a great plan, and it makes a lot of sense.

“Yeah, sure. Thank you, Jules. You saved my life. You just untied me from the railroad tracks.”

Now I was starting to get excited about it. “I’ll call Eli at lunchtime about Trevor. I’m sure he’ll help. And you know what? I’m going to call Gladys and Mildred and see if they’ll come in and work the dining room. I’ll put the stools out in front for their families to watch the parade. And I’ll ask Gertie to make some individual-sized versions of her prize-winning apple pie – maybe empanadas – and sell them out front.”

“And I’ll get some pictures and do a little feature on her baking so people will forget about Francine’s hatchet job.”

“Yes! You and Moira can work the crowd outside, Gladys and Mildred inside, and Trevor and I will be your baristas!”

I was back. Funny how a little hope can change you from a huddled mass of tears into Super Girl in the blink of an eye.
Now I’m the freight train. Watch out!

Toe and Harvey were almost normal today, although Harvey was still drinking not-too-hot tea with honey. He was eating his chocolate chip muffin and fiddling with his iPad mini as usual. Instead of solitaire, he was doing crossword puzzles today.

“Hey, Toe, what’s a six-letter word that means the opposite of ‘malignant’?”

“I guess that would be ‘benign,’ Harv.”

“BEEE…NIGN.”

Okay, maybe not that normal. I noticed that his face was looking a lot better today too.

“Hey, Harvey, the scratches from Miss Pickles seem to be almost gone already. That’s pretty fast.”

“Yep. The Pastor, Miranda Cassidy, healed me.”

I’m burning all my Stephen King books.
I’m not sure if that made me more freaked out or more curious. But it was Tuesday, so tonight Eli and I would do a little snooping around the church.

Of course, Trevor was more than happy to pitch in during the parade and the entire Harvest Festival if we needed him. He would do anything for Eli. Plus he liked the idea of having a little extra spending cash around his favorite holiday – Halloween. It’s a pretty big deal for the kids in Sweet Home.

Maybe the biggest perk of all was that it would get Trevor out of working for his dad’s landscaping company. Mike Barton had a good-sized crew now for his growing business, so he didn’t need the help, but he liked to keep his son busy. Mike had all the attachments for his big tractor-mower to keep him busy year-round with tilling and even some small harvests.

Eli even arranged for Trevor to work at the Coffee Cabana tonight too so we could check out the bingo hall. Jules had a lot of writing and ad design to do for the Gazette, but she asked Moira to come over and help Trevor (which Moira was eager to do, since she had a crush on Trevor), and she would sit at a table there to do her work and keep an adult eye on the business.

The parking lot of the Methodist Church was jam-packed with golf carts from the retirement village and all of the other Sweet Home seniors who preferred that form of transportation. Harvey’s shark fin was right up front, so he obviously was an early arrival.

Eli and I set up our stakeout next to O’Hennessey’s Funeral Home across the street and watched the people line up to get inside. The sun was just settling beneath the horizon shortly before 7:00 p.m. so Eli was using his night vision binoculars. He had a regular pair for me.

“What’s Albert Johnson carrying in his arm, Eli? It’s moving around.”

“It’s a chicken. A big, plump chicken.” What the frick?

“Why is he bringing a live chicken to bingo?”

“I don’t know, but I can see three or four feathered hens in the crowd. And I’m not talking about your aunts.“ Eli chuckled at his funny. “Mary West has small basket of fruit or tomatoes or something. A lot of people are carrying things.”

“And there is almost no chatter coming from that big group of people.”

Pastor Miranda Cassidy had walked from her home nearby in a long black choir robe and was approaching the crowd in front of the Methodist Church. She was a fit, chipper woman of about 50 with blonde hair in a very short pixie cut.

“Praise the Lord!” she said loudly, extending both arms toward the heavens.

“And pass the bingo cards!” The entire mob spoke with one enthusiastic voice, and then they all applauded and whistled as she made her way through the crowd. Handshakes, hugs, and cheers were bestowed on her as if she were a rock star.

“God bless you, Miranda!”

“We love you, Pastor!”

Shouts of praise and love were coming from everyone in the crowd. They were reaching out their arms to get a touch of her hand as she passed and snapping pictures as if the woman was walking into a movie premier on a red carpet.

Eli and I looked at each other.

“Well, she certainly has them under her spell,” he said, his binoculars now intently focused on the crowd and their beloved leader.

She got to the front of the crowd and stood atop the steps to face them.

“Six of you have been selected by the Almighty Father and me to be the chosen ones tonight. He will look into your hearts as He listens, and after three nights and three days the Lord will reveal the one that He will take to the mountain top to sit at His right hand.”

The crowd cheered and began filing into the church and down the stairs to the bingo hall.

I was more than a little concerned. “Eli, this is unsettling. She sounds like a cult leader. I think they’re going to sacrifice those chickens this week and then pick a human sacrifice for next week. You’ve got to stop this!”

He watched silently but without concern for a few minutes as the crowd disappeared inside. His “cop sense” seemed to be telling him everything was okay.

“Well, I’ll admit this is a little weird, but we don’t have any probable cause to go inside. There’s nothing to indicate that a crime has been committed or is imminent, Lily.”

“So, you have to wait until they actually kill somebody?”

“They’re not going to kill anybody, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart? Okay! What were we talking about?

“Look, my dad’s in there, so if I thought anything was going to happen I’d break the doors down and bust up their little bingo game.”

I felt a little better sitting next to my big strong galoot, but I still needed the satisfaction of knowing what was going on in there. We sat there for a while longer, watching the lights in the basement windows flash from time to time as a muffled roar emerged through the walls.

“What was that, Eli?”

“Let me think…a Bingo? Lily, it’s getting dark and you don’t have to be back for a while. How about if we take a pass by the cemetery and see if we can catch anybody in the act of committing any shenanigans over there?”

“Sure.” I took his arm in both of my hands and put my head on his shoulder. He didn’t seem to mind.

We drove along the frontage road along the cemetery and behind a row of houses, including his dad’s. Most of the houses were dark, as the seniors who lived there were all playing bingo.

“Keep your eyes and ears open for anything unusual, Lily.”

“Like what?”

He turned his head and looked at me with a grin. “You’re a pretty good detective. You’ll know if you see something important.”

We crept slowly along until we got to the gate of the cemetery.

“Let’s pull inside and just sit tight for ten minutes.”

He pulled his black unmarked car in, parked behind the old weatherworn chapel just inside, set back maybe 50-feet from the entrance, and turned out the lights. Then he put his finger to his lips to signal me to be very quiet and put his arm around my shoulders.

“Just look and listen,” he whispered.

It was hard to concentrate on looking for high school kids wreaking mischievous havoc on the cemetery with Eli so near, but I tried. The night was still, and there was just a waning crescent moon behind the trees. No breeze or birds could be heard, just the crickets. After a few minutes he smiled at me and kissed my forehead.

“Why, Officer Davis,” I said trying to take on the persona of a Tennessee Williams Southern Belle out with her gentleman caller, “I do declare, are we here on a stakeout, or have your intentions taken a turn toward more manly motivations?”

He was amused and came in for a real kiss. It was at that precise moment that our attention was drawn to a clattering sound in the trees perhaps a hundred yards away beyond the biggest monuments in the cemetery.

We looked up and saw a very strange figure in the hazy distance. Its long body glowed a luminescent green, and its bright orange head flicked as it rose up on its hind legs. Then, just like that, it was gone.