Pumpkins and Potions

by Tegan Maher

  Jeanette sat up taller behind her desk. “We’re still scrambling this morning. The president of the chamber just died, Esme.”

  “My sympathies. I know you two had a… something.” Esme hardly seemed sympathetic. “But it just goes to my point. There needs to be a professional organization solely for the running of the Chamber of Commerce. With Amity Corners on the boom, it’s up to this body to attract more new businesses. To put it bluntly, we don’t want to look like a bunch of chumps.”

  An older woman shuffled out from the confines of a cubicle in the corner. Armed with a sheaf of paper, she approached Esme. “We have the figures, Miss Swinehart. The deadline is Wednesday by five o’clock. Everything will be in order.”

  Esme Swinehart snatched the paperwork from the woman. After a quick scowl, Esme nodded. “Fine. See that it’s done. Let’s not screw up what should be the biggest Fall Festival in this town’s history.”

  Many people had fled the office when Swinehart barged in. Nann glanced around to see she was the only one waiting.

  “What are you knitting?” the older lady asked.

  Nann stuffed the yarn back in the conjure bag. “I’m here to pay the fee for a festival booth.”

  “Cash or check?” The older lady smiled.

  “Both.”

  The woman angled her head at her cubicle. “I’ll pull up your reservation, but you’ll have to square the cash with Jeanette.”

  Nann followed her. The nameplate on her desk read only Helen. As Helen sat behind her desk, she let out a loud, involuntary fart.

  Helen’s face colored. “Sorry. Sucks getting old.”

  Nann opted to ignore it. “My friend Zinnia reserved the booth. From the Amity Center gallery—”

  “Here we go.” Helen tapped on her computer. A moment later, a sheet printed. She took Nann’s check and wrote something on the paper. “Jeanette will make sure everything’s in order—oh.”

  Through the gap in the cubicle, Nann saw a man embracing Jeanette. Well, embracing, with one hand on her butt. Helen’s face colored. She loudly cleared her throat. Jeanette and the man broke apart. Playing it cool, the man grabbed a bank deposit bag from Jeanette’s desk. He entered the cubicle and dropped it on Helen’s desk.

  “If you could drop that at the bank?”

  “But Mike—” Helen started.

  “I’m not going back to the bank. Arrangements need to be made. Oh, and I’ll be back for the lunch meeting.” Mike turned and headed out.

  After a moment, Helen gave her a tight smile and a little shrug.

  “Kind of a douche bag,” Nann said.

  The woman’s smile broadened a millimeter. “Kind of.”

  Nann took her paperwork and the cash into Jeanette’s office. She saw a framed photo on the desk. The picture was of Jeanette and a man Nann recognized from the morning paper: O’Connell, late chamber president. They were dancing, smiling, a little disheveled and sweaty. A black ribbon adorned the frame.

  “Hi,” Jeanette made the greeting two syllables. “What can I do you for?”

  Nann handed over the paper and the cash.

  “Awesome!” Jeanette smiled and tapped her keyboard. “We’re holding it in Ted O’Connell’s honor this year.”

  “You were close?”

  “Esme, right, sorry about that.” Jeanette’s face froze, other than her rapidly blinking eyelids. “Yes, we were. But not serious.”

  Nann could almost see the bubbly façade at war with deep emotion. At the same time, she saw another photo: Jeanette getting squeezed by that Mike guy at some black tie function. He probably had her hand on her butt there, too. Who was she to judge?

  Task accomplished, Nann headed out. There was nothing spooky to see here. Maybe an office love triangle, but no vampires. Helen walked out at the same time, but Jeanette’s voice stopped her.

  “Helen, could you get a few more boxes of tissues when you go to pick up lunch? Thanks.”

  Helen gave Nann a tighter smile and a smaller shrug.

  Wednesday, Oct. 21

  A few customers browsed the shelves in the afternoon as Keith Schwenk arrived at the shop. Nann sat at the register, placing an order with a distributor. “Good news or bad news?” she said.

  Keith’s voice was low. “The post came back on Ted O’Connell. Massive coronary.”

  “Good. We can go out Friday.” Nann thought about what she said. “Well, not good-good.”

  The deputy shook his head. “We ran a tox screen. It came back negative.”

  Nann shrugged. “So they aren’t big partiers at the Chamber of Commerce.”

  “No, it came back too negative. O’Connell had a congenital heart condition. He took blood thinners for it. Not a trace was found in his system.”

  “That’s not right,” Nann said. “When we were taking care of my Aunt Nancy, she was on Warfarin. There were always blood tests and dosage adjustments. It’s not something you’d forget to take.”

  He nodded. “We’re running the pills we found at the scene. Might be homicide.”

  “But definitely not vampires,” Nann said.

  “Not unless a vampire can suck all the blood thinner out of you,” Keith agreed.

  Could they? Nann had no idea.

  Thursday, Oct. 22

  Just after Nann opened the store, Zinnia burst in.

  “They’re gonna cancel it!”

  Nann hadn’t had much coffee that early in the day. “Huh?”

  “I saw it on the news. There’s a bunch of money missing from the Chamber. They can’t pay for the festival.”

  “Isn’t all the labor volunteer?” Nann poured a cup from her thermos and sat at the register.

  “Well, yeah, but they still have to pay for—I don’t know, festival stuff,” Zinnia said.

  Esme Swinehart, Nann thought. Somehow, the woman knew that the town services wouldn’t be funded. How could she? On the other hand, anyone in town services looking for their money would come to the same conclusion. It was just kind of odd that the councilwoman harped on the situation days before it happened.

  Nann didn’t feel particularly bunged. She had planned to light bonfires on her ceremonial space to usher in the dark half of the year. But Zinnia’s features were twisted and she paced frantically around the shelves. “It’s not that big a deal, Zinn.”

  “Yeah, it is. When school starts, I have only half as many students in my art classes. I always sell a bunch of paintings at the Fall Festival. I really need the money right now.”

  Nann wasn’t planning on breaking even at the festival. Greenpoint Books was a world-renowned dealer in occult books, sure. But she wasn’t about to trot out a bunch of expensive tomes and display them in a tent. If she was lucky, she might sell a few tarot decks or hoodoo supplies. Zinnia, on the other hand, looked pretty freaked out.

  “I’m sure it’s some mix-up, what with Ted O’Connell dying.” Nann tried to comfort her friend. “That’s what Jeanette said. They’re a little crazy at the Chamber right now.”

  Zinnia’s features loosened up. “You think?”

  “Yeah, I’m sure it will be fine,” Nann said.

  But she was wrong. As she sat with Pokey watching the news, the top story featured Mike-the-butt-grabber being hauled out of the Chamber of Commerce office by the police.

  “Police arrested Michael Sladky, vice president of the AC Bank and Chamber of Commerce treasurer, on suspicion of embezzlement from the Chamber of Commerce,” the anchorwoman said. “Mel?”

  Nann slapped her forehead. “Ah, man.”

  “You know that guy?” Pokey said.

  Mel the reporter talked about the Chamber’s missing funds and the likely cancellation of the Fall Festival while camera’s captured Sladky’s arrest. As police led him from the building, Nann saw Jeanette Knox in the background. She was shouting at the cops, mascara running down her cheekbones. The footage had no sound. Someone pulled her out of camera view from behind.

  “Tough week for Jeanette.” Nann mused.


  “What’s embezzlement?” Pokey asked.

  “It’s the rich-person word for stealing,” Nann said.

  His eyes got big. “Oh!”

  “Police have not said how they discovered the stolen funds, but sources close to the Chamber said the theft came to light when it came time to pay for local services. Amity Corners Councilwoman Esme Swinehart had this to say:”

  “While the volunteers have done an excellent job working with what they have, as I said during the election, it is not enough.” Esme stood outside town hall, brunette locks blowing dramatically. “We need a professional organization directing the future business of this town. Let’s not let our boom go bust again.”

  Mel reappeared. “Sources at the chamber say that they are in mourning and distracted following the death of chamber president Ted O’Connell, and that everything will be sorted out. The county sheriff had no comment on Sladky’s arrest. Tina?” He threw it back to the anchor.

  Nann thought about what Zinnia had said. If by local services the reporter meant police services, it was kind of a no-brainer how they found out.

  “That town is F-ed up!” Pokey said.

  “Hey! Language!”

  “I’m just saying. Glad we don’t live there.”

  “Yeah, but I work there. Besides, the politicians in this town tried to trick me out of my house. Twice.”

  He gave a quick angle of his head—a pig shrug. “Say, do we have any Little Debbies? I could really go for some Fancy Cakes.”

  “Oh. My. Gawdess! Fancy Cakes are the worst Little Debbies ever.”

  Pokey blinked. “I know. I’m saving you from their dry, overly-sweet flakiness.”

  Friday, Oct. 23

  “Shut. The truck. Off.” Nann stood outside the store the next morning, looking down at the delivered newspapers on the sidewalk. Mike Sladky, known butt-grabber and suspected embezzler, was now dead. Calamity Corner’s CoC was in a definite slide.

  Zinnia was gonna freak.

  She scooped up the papers and headed in. Police were called following an uproar in Sladky’s house. The ME pronounced him dead at the scene. While the report wasn’t official, natural causes were suspected.

  Right.

  Nann also noted a sidebar on the lower right corner of the front page. The headline read: Another Vampire Sighting in Amity Corners. There was even a blurry photo of an Elvira-esque woman half in shadow. Marquise Charlotte? The face was too small and blurry.

  Nothing tied the two stories together, save that they both occurred on the West Side. Nann tied them together herself. The last vampire sighting had been at the scene of Ted O’Connell’s heart attack. She looked up at her high ceiling, thinking she needed to talk to a certain vampire who may or may not be walking among the living.

  Keith brought her Italian food again. This was becoming a regular thing. It was nice, but not really solid relationship stuff.

  “Was he murdered?” Nann asked.

  Keith shrugged. “Deputies got a call about a vampire lurking around the neighborhood. Apparently, the VHS did, too, because they were all there.”

  “All where?”

  “Outside Sladky’s house. There was a huge crash, breaking glass. We responded. Found him crashed through a glass coffee table. We didn’t find a vampire.”

  Nann forked some pasta. “Somebody did. There’s a picture in the paper.”

  “Sure,” Keith said. “Someone shot a movie of bigfoot in California, too.”

  Nann rolled her eyes. “Okay, you found him—did someone kill him?”

  “Unofficial COD is anaphylactic shock,” the deputy said. “Poor guy was so swollen up, he looked like a toad.”

  “Could it have been from a beating?”

  “No bruises. Just… puffy. We found evidence at the scene. Sladky had a severe allergy to peanuts. We found some in his takeout. I’m suspecting foul play.”

  “It could’ve been an accident,” Nann said.

  “Pretty sure it was intentional.”

  “How so?”

  “He was eating a cheeseburger.” Keith made a face. “With peanut butter.”

  “Why was he even at home? Didn’t you guys arrest him for embezzlement?” Nann said.

  “We got a tip. Sladky made several cash deposits in his account. They lined up with Chamber cash collection receipts to the penny. His lawyer bailed him out almost as fast as we brought him in.” Keith ate some pasta. “Could be coincidence.”

  “Let me guess—Esme Swinehart dropped a dime,” Nann said.

  Keith chewed for a while. “I can’t tell you that. But I’m guessing you already know that that woman really has it in for the chamber, the way it stands.”

  “Yeah. What gives with that? I mean, if I wasn’t within the business district bounds, I wouldn’t even be a member. But why so much fuss about the chamber of commerce?”

  Keith forked a meatball. “Politically, it makes sense. Since the paper mill reopened, employment is up. New businesses have the opportunity to open. The chamber of commerce is the place you go if you want to set up shop in town.”

  “I hear a ‘but’ in there somewhere,” Nann sliced off a portion of cannelloni.

  Keith pointed a meatball at her. “Esme’s beef with the chamber is more personal. She’s Ted O’Connell’s ex-wife.”

  Nann felt her jaw drop. “No wonder she’s so mean to Jeanette Knox.”

  “They are certainly not friends,” Keith ate the meatball.

  She watched the deputy’s jaw muscles work. “You think it’s a coincidence that Jeanette was canoodling with both Ted O’Connell and Mike Sladky?”

  Keith nearly choked. After a hard swallow, he smiled. “Canoodling?”

  “Pitching woo? Vo-de-oh-doh-doh-ing? Making whoopee?” Nann hiked her shoulders. “Having sex? Doing it?”

  “I’ll just say that the canoodling in question has not been overlooked by the department.”

  “Usually, you won’t say much about your investigations,” Nann said. “I’m guessing it’s because of the vampire sightings?”

  He met her eyes directly, and held them. After a moment, he said, “What do you know about vampires, Nann?”

  Enough to know they wouldn’t kill a guy with peanut butter, she thought. But she said, “Not that much.”

  Nann had to keep her eyes from straying toward the ceiling. Even so, she knew she had an upcoming date with a vampire.

  Saturday, Oct. 24

  Everything was overly dusted, her packages ready for the morning, new books ordered, floor swept, plants watered, windows cleaned… Nann looked at the clock. A minute past twelve, and the VHS was still meeting upstairs. It had to make Charlotte crazy, a bunch of guys drinking beer on her coffin lid, talking about killing vampires. She never whined about it, though.

  Still, she had to get home to feed Pokey. How long was this meeting going to go on? Given the recent vampire sightings, and the general lack thereof almost all the time, the guys were probably extra stirred up. Of course, if a kid stubbed his toe in the Fifth Street Playground, the VHS would blame it on vampires.

  Cricket sounded an alarm. Nann’s eyes swept the street. The car honked her horn, flashed all her lights. Nann caught the sound of many running feet and pushed open the front door. Jim, Tim the landlord, Rascal Metzger, Bob, and Zinnia’s boyfriend Branden raced down the block. They wielded stakes, mallets and crosses. “Get her!” “Vampire!” “We really got one!” “Stake her!”

  Had they finally annoyed Charlotte out of her box? Even if they had, Charlotte couldn’t leave the building. Except maybe to walk among mortals when the veil was thinnest? The thought lent speed to her feet.

  Around the corner of the building, the VHS had a vampire trapped. She had her arms up in front of her to protect herself. Nann noted a particularly short vampire with a crooked red wig. Very short, very curvy—Shut. The Garden. Gate. “Guys! Whoa! Hold on!”

  Half the rabble turned toward Nann. The other waved crosses and sprayed a bunch of holy wate
r around.

  “My makeup!” Zinnia cried. “You have any idea how long this took?”

  Branden, one of the holy water splashers, lowered his aspergillum. “Zinnia? What are you doing?”

  Zinnia adjusted her wig. She frowned at Branden. “You know I’m busy on Halloween. I just wanted to… surprise you. We do have a date, you know. It’s already after midnight.”

  Branden eyed his comrades, and gave Zinnia a sheepish look. “Oh, right. Sorry, we ran a little late.”

  “Kind of early for trick-or-treat,” Tim stuffed his stake in a gym bag. “Do you do this a lot, Zinnia? There have been vampire sightings all over town.”

  “A lot?” Zinnia’s brows nearly met. “No! It’s just, we like that new vampire show on HBO. I thought it would be…”

  Bob Reynolds put his cross over his shoulder. “Okay, fellas, we’re all a little keyed up, what with all the vampire murders.”

  “Vampire murders?” Zinnia’s eyes nearly fell out of her head.

  “Let’s take this over to Marge’s. I think we could all use a few beers.” Bob turned, and the crowd followed.

  All save Branden. He ogled Zinnia. “I think you look great, babe.”

  “I did until you splashed water all over me.”

  Branden put his arm around her. “I’ll make it up to you.”

  They made their way back into the building. Nann thought most guys would be happy with their own personal Mistress of the Dark, even a pint-sized one. A tingly feeling settled over Nann, making her look up.

  Charlotte gazed down at her from the third floor window. Even at a distance, Nann could see the glowing red of her eyes. The real vampire looked pissed off. Maybe Nann would visit on some other night.

  Monday, Oct. 26

  Nann rubbed sleep out of her eyes. During the weekend, she’d binge-watched the new vampire show with Pokey. Zinnia’s scanty costume was a pretty good match for the vamp girls on the show. The premise, loosely based on Bram Stoker’s novel, was that a vampire guy needed a harem of vampire girls in order to make new vampires. There was a lot of canoodling between the vampiresses and their victims. She winced a little for Pokey during the racier parts. But the pig only yawned.