Pumpkins and Potions

by Tegan Maher

  Norabelle’s eyes widened as she smiled, entranced by Jax’s magical display. “Yes, yes, of course you can go. Oh, what lovely magic you have, sweetie.”

  Jax beamed at her. “Thank you!” Lifting an eyebrow, she shot Alba a haughty look, that clearly said, See!

  Norabelle turned her warm smile on us. “I just wanted to come over and thank you all for giving us as much of your valuable time as you did. Mr. Beasley and I genuinely appreciate your help.”

  “It was our pleasure, Mrs. Beasley,” said Sweets. “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to share that Spiced Pumpkin Punch recipe with me, would you?”

  Mrs. Beasley giggled. “That recipe was my mother’s and her mother’s before that and her mother’s before that.” She winked at Sweets. “I’m afraid it’s a family secret.”

  “Oh, it’s okay. I understand secret recipes. The Porter family has a few of their own, too. It was just so good.”

  “Thank you dear.” As the new bus began to unload, Norabelle’s eyes widened. “Oh my, here comes the next wave of children. I’d better get them started in the corn maze. Toodleloo girls!”

  “Bye Mrs. Beasley,” we all chorused.

  On our way to our cars, Alba gave a slight nod towards a car parked alongside the gravel driveway. “Girls. Check it out.”

  Our eyes turned to see an old man hugging the steering wheel of an old silver Buick. He was small and gaunt with a bristly face and wild gray hair and was intently watching all of the children pouring off of the bus.

  Holly wrinkled her nose. “Uh! Look at him staring at those kids. I bet he’s got poisoned candy in his car.”

  “Holly,” Sweets chastised. “That’s not very nice. He’s our neighbor.”

  “That guy’s our neighbor?” Alba curled her lip. “For real?”

  “Yeah, he’s like three houses down. Sometimes I see him when I get off work. He’s always sitting outside on his porch talking to himself. I wave, but he never waves back.”

  Jax sucked in her breath and turned to me. “Yes! Mercy, we’ve seen that guy before. When we’re out walking Chesney.”

  Tipping my head, I stared at the man behind the wheel. “Huh, yeah. That does kind of look like that guy.”

  “I wonder what he’s doing here,” said Jax.

  “Clearly, he’s watching the kids,” said Holly. “What if he’s, like, a pedophile or something. Maybe someone should tell the Beasley’s he’s sitting out here.”

  Sweets’ mouth gaped, appalled at the suggestion. “Holly! We are not going to tell the Beasley’s that he’s a pedophile. That’s purely speculation. You could ruin a man’s reputation by spreading an unfounded rumor like that.”

  “Yeah,” said Alba, crooking a brow. “I gotta agree with Sweets. He’s not doing anything wrong just sitting there. He could just be some bored old guy that people watches for something to do.”

  “Besides, the Beasley’s are super busy,” I said. “They don’t have time to chase off every loiterer that stops by.”

  Holly gave a little shrug. “Fine. Whatever. But if some kid goes missing today, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  Alba pursed her lips. “Well, if that happens, at least we’ll know whose door to go knocking on, won’t we?” Her head bobbed as she started towards Sweets’ car. “Let’s go, girls. I’ve got homework to do.”

  3

  The next morning the girls and I sat in a booth at Bailey’s Bakery and Sweets, nursing bottomless cups of coffee, nibbling on Sweets’ recommended delectables, and sharing pages from the Aspen Falls Observer. It was Saturday, and the girls and I had made plans to catch a movie together after Sweets got off work at the bakery. So with nothing better to do, we’d all gone over to have breakfast while we waited for her shift to end.

  A clanging sound came from the back of the kitchen, and a second later Sweets appeared, carrying a pair of industrial-sized cookie sheets in her gloved hands. Her face and apron were dusted with flour and her cheeks were flushed. “Girls, did you try those blueberry scones I suggested?”

  “Yeah, we all had one,” said Jax.

  I nodded. “They were really good, Sweets.”

  “You liked them? Oh good. It was a new recipe and I needed a little feedback. I think it needs a skosh more vanilla next time, what do you think?”

  “Mmm,” I said, lifting a shoulder, “I’m not sure. It was pretty delicious the way it was.”

  The bakery’s front door opened then, and a pair of older women walked in, chatting a mile a minute. They stopped at the front counter and smiled at Sweets. “Good morning, Sweets,” said one of the women.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Gardner, Mrs. Heinz,” said Sweets.

  They peered into the glass pastry case.

  “Sweets, dear, what’s good this morning?”

  “Mrs. Gardner, you know everything’s always good.”

  Mrs. Gardner leaned across the counter. “Yes, I know everything’s always good, but there’s always one thing that managed to turn out slightly better than the rest. Only the baker knows which thing it is.”

  Sweets giggled. “Well, then, I recommend the blueberry scones.”

  Mrs. Gardner pounded her fist triumphantly on the counter. “See? I knew you were holding out. Two blueberry scones and two cups of coffee it is.” She put cash down on the counter.

  “Very good. I’ll bring your change and your breakfast out to you in a moment. Just let me put these pans down.”

  “Thank you, Sweets, you’re a dear,” said Mrs. Heinz.

  As they settled themselves in the booth behind us, I pointed to an article I’d been reading in the Aspen Falls Observer. “The town’s having a costume party at the fire hall tomorrow night.”

  Jax stuffed a bit of her scone into her mouth and nodded. “They do it every year. Sweets and I didn’t tell you? We found us a group costume.”

  “A group costume?” Holly frowned. “I don’t like the sound of that.”

  “Why not?” asked Jax.

  Holly shrugged. “I don’t like other people picking them for me. I know you, Jax—you and Sweets will pick something dumb, like a salad, and I’ll end up being a piece of lettuce or a tomato.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh at the image that conjured in my mind—Holly dressed as a bright red tomato. It was pretty funny.

  Alba let out a chuffing sound. “Yeah, I gotta agree with Cosmo on this one. I ain’t dressin’ up like a tomato.”

  Jax scowled. “But it’s too late. We have to go! Sweets and I already bought the costumes.”

  “Ugh, Jax,” Holly groaned. “You should’ve asked first.”

  “But I wanted it to be a surprise.”

  “I can’t believe this costume party is tomorrow and you’re just now telling us about it, Jax. That’s not much notice.” I lifted a shoulder. “Maybe I’ve got plans tomorrow?”

  Jax grinned. “Nice try, Mercy, but I already know you don’t have plans. No boyfriend, no plans.”

  “So what’s the costume?” asked Alba. “I’m not wearin’ it if it’s dumb.”

  A bright smile covered Jax’s face. “It’s not, I swear. You’ll love it. But that’s all I’m going to say for now.” Jax pretended to zip her lips closed and then refused to answer any more questions on the subject.

  I’d barely gone back to reading my newspaper when the women’s conversation behind me had my ears perking up.

  “Yes, and Darrell thinks it was the kids next door.”

  “But why would they smash pumpkins?”

  Eyes wide, I leaned across the table. “Girls,” I whisper-hissed. Putting a finger to my mouth, I cocked my head backwards. The quiet chatter at our table died down as we all tried to be nonchalant about our eavesdropping.

  Though I’d missed a beat or two, I could tell they were still talking about the same thing they’d been talking about a second ago.

  “Carolyn Murphy’s boys?”

  “No, silly. The Murphy boys are full grown now. Our neighbors on the other side,”
said Mrs. Gardner. “Don’s boys.”

  “Don’s boys!” The inflection in Mrs. Heinz’s voice told of her surprise. “But they’re just small children.”

  “Good heavens, June. Time is passing you buy. Those boys are thirteen years old now. Old enough to pull a prank like that. And I’ll just be frank, Don doesn’t supervise his boys. Ever since his divorce, it’s like he’s given up entirely on discipline. You know he works all hours. They were probably left home unsupervised and got bored. You know what they say—an idle mind is the devil’s playground.” She shook her head. “Darrell’s planning to have a talk with him when he gets home from work this evening.”

  I’d had enough of listening. Frowning, I turned around in my seat. “I’m sorry, we didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but did you say you had your pumpkins smashed?”

  Mrs. Gardner looked over her shoulder at me. “Why, yes, dear, I did.”

  “Last night?”

  “Yes?”

  “You’re sure it wasn’t the night before last?”

  “Of course I’m sure. The pumpkins on my front porch were intact when I locked up the house last night. Why do you ask?” Mrs. Gardner shifted around in her booth so she could look at me a little better.

  “Well, my girlfriends and I were volunteering out at Beasley’s Pumpkin Patch yesterday morning and a woman over there said all the pumpkins in her whole neighborhood had been smashed the night before.”

  “Well,” breathed Mrs. Heinz, “now isn’t that just terrible. What is this world coming to? Was she local?”

  “She said she lives in that Newbury Heights development.”

  Mrs. Heinz looked at Mrs. Gardner in surprise. “Liz’s girl lives in Newbury Heights.”

  “That’s right, she does. We’ll have to give her a call,” Mrs. Gardner assured her friend. To us, she said, “Have they found out who did it?”

  Jax shook her head. “The woman that told us seemed to think it was teenagers too.”

  “I wonder if it’s the same ones?” said Holly.

  Alba nodded. “Kinda sounds like it might be.” She looked at Mrs. Gardner curiously. “What part of town do you live in?”

  “I’m in the old part of town. Over by the middle school. I’ve lived there for thirty-five years and never had a single pumpkin smashed before last night.” She shook her head. “My husband, Darrell, is reporting the incident to the police this afternoon.”

  “But we heard you say you thought your neighbors did it,” said Alba.

  “I do.”

  “You really want a couple of thirteen-year-old boys in trouble with the police?”

  “If they did it, then yes. That’s vandalism.”

  “Yeah, but they’re kids. Kids will be kids.”

  “I’d rather the boys get in trouble now for doing a small crime than later for doing a big crime because nobody thought to stop them when they were impressionable.”

  Alba lifted a shoulder. “Yeah, I suppose, but, geesh, seems sorta harsh getting the police involved just for a couple of smashed pumpkins.”

  Mrs. Gardner bobbed her head. “Perhaps, but everyone needs to learn that crime doesn’t pay.”

  4

  I woke up the next morning to an inundation of slobbery dog kisses.

  Rolling onto my back, I stretched and Chesney crawled over my body. His wet nose sniffed my face and his wagging tail shook the bed. Pushing him and his doggy breath away, I groaned, “Ches… quit. It’s too early.”

  The air pouring in through my open window smelled cool and fresh, like it had rained in the night. I pinched one eye open and the barely-there sliver of light coming in from underneath my shade told me I was right. “The sun’s barely even out, Ches. You can’t hold it one more hour?”

  He jumped off the bed and raced to my bedroom door, where he turned around, sat down, and began to whine. I closed my eyes, hoping the whining would stop. But when I didn’t immediately follow him, it intensified.

  “Ugh.”

  Sweets usually let Chesney out before she left for the bakery in the mornings, but because Sundays were her day off, and because Ches was technically my dog, it was up to me to let him out.

  “I’m coming, I’m coming,” I grumbled, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed. Nearly blind as a bat without my glasses, I felt around on the floor with my foot until I found my hoodie and the slip-on sandals I kept next to my bed. Grabbing my glasses from my nightstand, I followed Chesney to the hallway. “Let’s go, buddy.”

  The hallway and stairwell were still dark as I padded downstairs, but a bit of light filtered into the foyer from the front door. After letting Chesney out, I made a quick pit stop in the bathroom across from Flynn’s room. When I went back to the foyer, Chesney was barking and scratching at the door.

  “Ches,” I groaned, rushing to let him in. “Quiet, you’re gonna wake up the whole house.” Opening the door, I stepped aside, waiting for him to come barreling inside. When he didn’t race past, I poked my head around the door, yawning and bleary-eyed. “Come on, Ches. We’re going back to bed.”

  Chesney danced about in the doorway, barking oddly and refusing to come inside.

  Groaning, I walked out onto the porch, planning to scoop him up and carry him inside. But before I could grab him, in a flash, he turned tail, raced down the steps, and began barking like mad again. I followed him to find his source of annoyance—a big pile of orange mess sprawled across our lawn.

  It took a moment to register in my mind that that smashed pile of garbage was the remnants of a pumpkin, and it took an even longer moment to realize that it was our pumpkin—the one that Sweets had picked up on our visit to Beasley’s Pumpkin Patch.

  I sucked in a breath. We’ve been vandalized!

  ❖

  “Who could do such a thing?” Sweets questioned.

  We were all gathered around our kitchen table, still in pajamas. I’d managed to wait exactly one hour before waking up the squad to share the bad news. None of them were very happy about being woken up so early on a Sunday morning, but they were all even more unhappy to find out that we’d been hit by the Aspen Falls Pumpkin Smasher.

  “Kids,” Alba said, shaking her head. “It’s gotta be kids.”

  “I agree with Alba,” said Holly. “It’s gotta be. And we can’t just let them get away with it. We should tell Detective Whitman.”

  “I don’t know girls. Getting the police involved over a smashed pumpkin seems so extreme.” Sitting atop one folded leg, Jax played with her hands. “And besides, that lady at the bakery yesterday said her husband was going to the police. I’m sure Detective Whitman already knows.”

  “Well, clearly, he hasn’t gotten very far in his investigation,” said Sweets. Arms crossed, she tapped an impatient toe on the wood floor. “Girls, you know it takes a lot to heat my kettle, but darn it, it took me forever to pick out the exact perfect pumpkin. And then vandals destroyed it in a moment? For what?!” She shook her head.

  “For kicks,” said Alba. “Look, Sweets, I agree completely. It’s bull and we gotta do something about it.”

  “But do what? That’s the question.” I looked around the table. It’s the question I’d been pondering since I’d discovered our poor pumpkin obliterated on the lawn.

  Alba pounded a fist on the table. “I think it’s time we put on our witch hats and get to the bottom of this mystery. I wanna teach those juvenile delinquents a lesson they’re never gonna forget!”

  Jax’s whole face lit up as her blue eyes sparkled. “Oooh! And we’re all gonna wear witch hats?! Yay! I’ve got so many to choose from. You can all borrow one.” A thought hit her. “I’ve got the perfect one for you, Alba. It’s extra pointy, and it has little red devil horns on the sides!”

  Alba rolled her eyes. “It was an expression, Shorty. We’re not actually gonna wear…” She shook her head as if she gave up. “Look. Everyone go get dressed—no witch hats.” She looked pointedly at Jax. “We’ll meet back here at oh eight hundred hours and then start
our investigation over in Newbury Heights.”

  Jax raised a tentative hand. “But…can I wear my witch hat? It’s been so long you girls have let me wear one and…” She shrugged guiltily. “I sorta bought a new one on Etsy that I haven’t even gotten to wear it yet. It’s teal and sparkly and has mermaid scales.”

  Alba curled a lip. “Seriously?”

  Jax’s head bobbed excitedly.

  “Ugh. Just get dressed, Shorty.”

  5

  By fifteen minutes to eight, Chesney still hadn’t stopped whining at the door over the smashed pumpkin on our lawn. He’d stood staring out the front window until finally, Jax and I came downstairs, dressed and ready to go for our little investigation.

  “Ches, what’s wrong?” asked Jax. “Do you need to go back out?” She opened the door for him, but his high-pitched whine only intensified and as he readjusted himself on the rug, he began to tremble. Frowning, she got down on all fours beside him and stared out the window. “Aww, you’re shaking, sweetie. Are you scared of that pumpkin?”

  The whining droned on.

  Jax patted him on the head. “I know, it’s smashed, poor pumpkin. But there’s nothing to be scared of.”

  My eyes widened as a thought struck me. “Oh my gosh, Jax! What if Chesney didn’t go when I let him out earlier? What if he saw the pumpkin and was too scared or distracted to go?”

  Jax sucked in a breath. “I bet he’s been holding it this whole time!”

  Feeling guilty, I walked down the back hallway, retrieved his leash, and stuck a small plastic shopping bag into my pocket. “I’m so sorry, Ches. I thought you went!” I’d been so busy thinking about being vandalized that I hadn’t even been curious why Chesney had been whining. Walking back to the foyer, I scooped him up. “Jax, I’ll take him for a quick walk before we leave. Tell the girls I’ll be right back?”

  “No, I’m coming with you,” said Jax. “Just let me get my hat!”