Pumpkins and Potions

by Tegan Maher

  “I think I prefer the movies where people get machete’d for this kind of behavior. Maybe we should watch a ‘Friday the 13th’ movie instead,” he had said.

  This morning, she’d received a call from the Amity Corners Chamber, and she drove over before opening the store. Even at this hour, there were a bunch of people inside. Most of them were in line, waiting for Jeanette in her office. Most of them came out with checks. Some of them came out red-faced and muttering.

  Nann stood in line, eavesdropping. There was a lot of low speculation about Mike Sladky and Ted O’Connell’s deaths, and how they related to the chamber being out of funds. She even heard talk that Esme Swinehart was on the money about the chamber’s current organization. Nann couldn’t figure out how the deaths were related to the missing cash, unless a third party was involved. She looked past the line, and at Jeanette in her office. The woman looked flushed, and despite the tight crop of her hair, disheveled. Jeanette Knox seemed the most likely third party.

  Three may keep a secret if two of them are dead, Nann thought. Who said that? Al Capone? No, it was Benjamin Franklin. Capone said that capitalism is the legitimate racket of the ruling class.

  “Hi,” Jeanette tried to bubble, but failed. “Nancy, right?”

  “Nann,” Nann handed her the receipt for the booth, “With three Ns.”

  Jeanette gave her a shaky nod and rifled through paperwork. “I’m sorry we had to cancel the festival.”

  Now both framed photos on Jeanette’s desk had black mourning ribbons over them. “You were close to both of them? Ted and Mike?”

  Jeanette pulled a check out of a stack. She handed it to Nann. “We dated. Casually. Just silly fun.”

  Canoodling, Nann thought, but didn’t say. Considering the wetness in her eyes and her trembling hands, Nann thought that the relationships were more than that. She didn’t press. But she did about Zinnia’s money. “I gave you two fifty in cash, too.”

  Jeanette nodded, closing her eyes. “I know. We’ll make good on it. But the cash is missing. It’s all accounted for, but it’s just not in the bank. We’re sorting through it. It’s really been a tough first week for me as acting president…”

  Her voice broke. Nann felt sympathetic, uncomfortable with the emotion, and suspicious all at the same time. It was a lot. She decided to get the heck out of there. “Just let me know.”

  Grabbing a tissue, hiding her face, Jeanette gave another jerky nod.

  Well, that explained the unhappy people leaving the office, Nann thought. Helen nodded to her from her cubicle as Nann walked out.

  “If you were wondering, nearly all of the festival booths are paid for in cash,” the older woman said.

  Nann wandered closer to whisper. “And it’s all gone?”

  “Nearly fifty grand.” Helen lifted a stack of deposit slips. “All accounted for, none of it made it to the bank.”

  And now the president of the chamber was dead, and so was the treasurer after being arrested for embezzlement. Given that thought, Nann said, “I’m guessing it’ll turn up.”

  “Oh, it might, I guess.” Helen shot her eyes toward Jeanette’s office. She then returned to her work.

  Since you could now order pizza delivery in Calamity Corners, Zinnia did so once a week. Tink, a six-foot-tall shop goblin who hid pointy ears beneath a trucker cap, joined them for the pizza feast. Zinnia had ordered one half of the pizza with triple pineapple and white sauce. Elf-types had serious sweet tooths.

  Nann sat at one of the student tables in the rear of the gallery. She chose a slice from the normal half of the pizza. “Hey, Zinn, does Branden have any allergies that you know of?”

  The little blonde pursed her lips. “Yeah. Bee stings. We carry around one of those jabby things in case he gets stung when we go out in the woods…”

  “And canoodle!” Tink finished.

  While Zinnia’s face turned redder than the pizza sauce, Nann asked Tink, “How about Manuel?”

  The mechanic had met Manuel a while back, when Nann needed serious landscape architecture in the celebration space below her house. Tink shook her head. “Nope. No allergies that I know of. He does have type-one diabetes.”

  Nann eyed the sugary pizza. “Must make it tough when you cook at home.”

  “He monitors it,” Tink shrugged. “We figure it out. How about your Deputy Keith?”

  “I know!” Zinnia said. “He’s allergic to commitment.”

  “Hey!” Nann said.

  “Or time off,” Tink mused aloud.

  “Stop it!”

  “So what is Keith allergic to, Nann?”

  To her chagrin, Nann didn’t know if Keith had any allergies. Or medical conditions. Or anything that personal. She shook it off and changed the subject. “I was just thinking that you have to be intimate with someone to know if they had anything like that. Anything you might need to watch out for.”

  Zinnia pursed her lips in thought again. “I guess. So what?”

  “I’m thinking that Jeanette Knox, the chamber VP, dated both Mike and Ted.”

  Tink and Zinnia exchanged a shrug.

  “Both of them died from supposed natural causes—with a little help. Ted didn’t have any blood thinner in his system, and Mike died from eating peanut butter, which he was deathly allergic to. Plus, Jeanette’s the one who handles money in the office.”

  “Office love triangle goes bad,” Zinnia nodded. “That’s great. It doesn’t help find the missing cash—my missing cash, for instance. Maybe you should pull on your Nancy Druid pants and figure it out.”

  “It’s a better theory than the vampire one,” Tink said. “I mean, everyone dresses like a sexy vampire these days.”

  Zinnia frowned at Tink. “You dress like a vampire one time—”

  “That costume was right on point, by the way,” Nann said. “I binge-watched it this weekend. Branden must’ve really enjoyed his early trick-or-treat.”

  “Are you making fun of me?” Zinnia scowled.

  Nann held up her hands. “No, not at all. You make an adorable little vampire.”

  “You watched the sexy vampire show?” Tink asked.

  “Well, Pokey kept rooting for Jason Voorhees to pop up and teach those vampires a lesson. It was annoying.” Nann grabbed another slice of meatzza pizza.

  “Oh, c’mon, Nann,” Zinnia said. “Your little pig is delectable—delicious—ugh!—delightful!”

  Zinnia stuffed nearly a whole slice of pizza in her mouth and turned away. Nann still caught her pupils becoming reptilian slits before Zinn could hide it.

  Tink’s brows rose. “Oh, yeah, nearly the full moon.”

  It embarrassed Zinnia that she transformed into an alligator (or crocodile, no one knew for sure) on the full moon. Nann didn’t get it. All Zinnia really did was load up on protein and loll around in her spa-sized bubble bath for a day. The reptile in question had actually helped out a time or two.

  Tink got them back on track. “But the cops must be onto Jeanette, right? If all the things you say are right, then they must know all that. Has she been arrested?”

  “You should ask your boyfriend,” Zinnia said to Nann.

  “I would, but he won’t talk about ongoing cases,” Nann said. “In fact, if there were no vampire sightings, I’m sure I wouldn’t know much.”

  “It could be that Jeanette is the one dressing like a vampire. Maybe she convinces her boyfriends into some vampire canoodling. I hear that’s a thing.” Tink gave Zinnia a look.

  “Enough already!” Zinnia said.

  “Vampire canoodling, and then murder?” Nann asks. “Why bother? Jeanette’s pretty hot as it is. Why not just show up—”

  “With some peanut butter laced food?” Tink asked. “Just for example.”

  Zinnia angled her head and raised a finger. “Better to be in disguise—not for her victims, but for any potential witnesses. Especially considering how much this town is obsessed with vampires. I mean, really. When was the last time there were vampire
problems around here? The eighties?”

  It was Nann’s turn to look away. Zinnia had a vampire living (or… something like living) in the apartment upstairs from her. She didn’t have a clue about it. Nann kept it a secret. Zinnia was on the skittish side.

  Tink sat back, looking over the table. “Hey, where’s the tea, Zinnia?”

  “Tea” for the elf, was really just an excuse to drink cream and sugar.

  “Oh, yeah, sorry about that. My electric kettle conked out on me. You want a pop?”

  Tink made a face. “There’s not nearly enough sugar in pop. Let me see that kettle.”

  Zinnia shrugged. She walked over and pulled it out of a recycling bin. Tink examined it. The shop goblin turned it over, eyeing the plastic. Nann saw that there weren’t any screws holding it together. You couldn’t take the thing apart to fix it.

  “Planned obsolescence,” Tink frowned.

  “I’ll order a new one online,” Zinnia said.

  “That doesn’t solve my tea issue now.” Tink gave the thing a hard shake. “I think the heating element’s loose.”

  She took a screwdriver from the coverall pocket beneath her embroidered name. Nann couldn’t see how that would help. Holding it by the tip, Tink whacked the bottom of the electric kettle. The thing rang like a bell. Overhead lights flickered, and Nann felt goosebumps rise on her arms.

  Tink handed it back to Zinnia. “Here you go. Try it now.”

  Zinnia went to the sink and filled it with water. The light came on when she plugged it in. After a moment, Nann could hear water moving around from the heat.

  “Y’know, if that’s how you maintain my truck, I expect a steep discount,” Zinnia said.

  Tink lifted her palms and angled her head. “Things break, I fix them. I’m a shop goblin. It’s what I do.”

  “I wish you could fix the Fall Festival that way,” Zinnia frowned.

  Tink got up. She found a mug and filled it with sugar; added a dab of cream from the little dorm fridge. “That’s Nann’s thing.”

  “So what about it, Nann?” Zinnia eyed her.

  Nann shrugged. “Let’s see. Jeanette Knox was canoodling with both Ted and Mike. Things got confusing when Ted died. Then, Mike became a suspect right before he died. If the three of them were in cahoots, Jeanette might want both of them out of the way. I mean, how much money can you really skim from this Podunk town’s Fall Festival fund?”

  “I hear around fifty grand,” Zinnia said.

  Nann heard that figure as well. “Okay, still, that’s not a lot divided by three.”

  Tink hovered over the kettle, waiting for it to boil. “That’s nothing, really. Not if Jeanette was actually emotionally involved with these guys. Who kills someone they’re casually dating?”

  Zinnia nodded. “Not a really solid motive for Jeanette.”

  “She is the one who handles the cash deposits,” Nann said. She sighed. “Okay, maybe she’s not the best suspect, only the most convenient one.”

  Tink fished around in a cupboard and came up with a teabag. When the water boiled, she filled her mug, dipped the bag twice, and threw it away. “So who, then?”

  “What if it’s not about the money?” Nann mused.

  Zinnia ate more pizza. “Someone who hated Ted and Mike?”

  “Or the chamber of commerce,” Nann said.

  Tink rolled her eyes. “You’re not thinking Esme Swinehart.”

  “I know you and politicians don’t get along, Nann, but really?”

  Nann held up her index finger. “One: Esme’s whole platform seems to be wiping out the current chamber of commerce.” A second finger popped up. “Two: she’s the ex-wife of Ted O’Connell.” She did more fingers. “Which leads to three: she really hates the chamber since her ex is president, and four, she really hates the woman who is dating her ex, so five, not only can she get rid of Ted, but also set up Jeanette for the murder.”

  Zinnia chewed her pizza and Tink sipped her cream and sugar thoughtfully. Almost at the same time, Tink asked: “Why kill Mike?” and Zinnia asked, “What about the vampire getup?”

  Mike’s murder might make it look more like Jeanette was involved in an embezzlement scheme. Unless, of course, Jeanette actually was involved in a scheme and killed both men. Anyone could dress like a vampire as a silly disguise. Nann had to agree. “We need to catch a clue.”

  Tuesday, Oct. 27

  “Has sneaking into someone’s house ever proved useful in solving a case?” Zinnia said from the back seat of one of Tink’s loaner cars.

  Tink sat behind the wheel, tapping her fingers on it. “Yeah, I think once.”

  “Really?” Zinnia asked.

  The shop goblin pursed her lips for a moment. “Hmm. Maybe not.”

  “Keith said he’s sure the joint chamber-town council meeting is going to run long past one in the morning,” Nann said. “This could be our only chance to look into both Jeanette’s and Esme’s places.”

  “What are you expecting to find, Nann? A shoe box full of cash with ‘stolen from the chamber—ha ha!’ written on it?” Zinnia said.

  Tink sort of backed Nann up. “Maybe a sexy vampire costume in the trash?”

  Zinnia snorted. “You know how much it costs to dress like a legitimate sexy vampire? You won’t catch me throwing away thigh-high boots.”

  “Given your size, they were probably regular boots,” Tink said.

  “How about something indicating one of them actually needed the money, credit card bills, I don’t know, final notices on bills.” Nann was fishing. “Anything that points to desperation.”

  “I think what we’re doing points to desperation,” Zinnia said.

  Nann opened the car door. “I think you’re right.”

  Given the on-again, off-again employment at the paper mill, houses in Calamity Corners were cheap. Jeanette lived in a nice one. Like the other homes on the block, it was separated by side yards, fences, landscaping and driveways. Easy-peasy to sneak into. Or break into: Nann went a little cold at the thought. This was illegal, no matter what they might find. She stopped on the porch short of the front door.

  “Did the cops search this place?”

  Nann nearly jumped out of her skin. She hadn’t heard Zinnia and Tink move up behind her. When she was able to breathe again, Nann said, “I doubt it. There isn’t enough evidence on her for a warrant.”

  “If she has my money in there, I want it back,” Zinnia says. “Since the sheriff hasn’t looked, well, I guess it’s up to us.”

  Nann eyed her. “That’s quite the change of heart.”

  “It’s two hundred fifty bucks.” Zinnia glared.

  A lot of people hadn’t gotten their money back, Nann thought, but didn’t say. She was struck by another thought. Nann had gotten her check back. It hadn’t gone through the bank. That meant something, but she couldn’t put her finger on just what.

  “Why are you staring off into space? Someone could see us.” Zinnia pushed past. The door was locked. She sighed. “Who locks their door around here?”

  Tink fished out her keys. Separating one, she tapped on the doorknob. It made a click. Following a squeal of hinges, they moved inside.

  “I gotta learn a spell like that,” Nann said.

  “What spell? It’s a gift,” Tink looked around. “Nice place.”

  Street light and a nearly full moon gleamed off hardwood floors. There was a diagonal seating space on an area rug. It faced away from the TV. It seemed both fashionable and less than functional. Maybe Jeanette watched television in her bedroom.

  “Speaking of spells, why don’t you do a Druid ceremony and find out if the money’s here,” Zinnia said.

  Nann gave her the eye. “You think if I knew a spell that found money that I’d be running a bookstore?”

  Zinnia hiked a shoulder. “Good point. Except I don’t see a shoebox full of money anywhere.”

  “Let’s spread out and search the place,” Nann said.

  They moved through the semi-da
rk living room. “I’ve never tossed a joint before,” Tink said. “Are we looking for secret hiding places?”

  Nann had never tossed a joint, either. “I don’t know, just look around.”

  Zinnia opened a coat closet. “Lots of shoes, no shoe boxes.”

  “Quit focusing on a shoebox full of cash,” Nann walked into the kitchen. “Just see if anything seems out of place.”

  She opened cupboards, the ones you didn’t open much; over the fridge where the Yule dishes were kept; the broiler drawer under the oven that never seemed to have broiler pans; the bottom drawer, even one lower than the junk and fast food packet drawers. Nann didn’t find any money stashed. The thought that her check had been returned to her still floated around Nann’s mind. What did that mean?

  Stairs creaked as Tink and Zinnia came down. “We’re not good at this,” Tink said.

  “Jeanette spends a lot of money at Victoria’s Secret, but not fifty grand worth,” Zinnia blew out her cheeks. “Maybe we should call it a night.”

  “We still have Esme’s place to toss,” Tink said.

  Zinnia’s face went slack. “You call this tossing? Jeeze Louise, we’re just snooping. I’ve tossed my grandmother’s attic better than we’re doing here.”

  Nann couldn’t argue. They weren’t finding anything, and they were running out of time. “Esme’s house isn’t far. Let’s get going.”

  “I like her better as a suspect,” Zinnia opened the door. “My exes are, like—”

  She shut the door quickly. When Zinnia turned, her eyes were wide.

  “What? Is Jeanette here?” Nann was sure they’d see the swing of headlights in the driveway.

  Zinnia shook her head. The color drained from her face. “Sexy vampire! Hide!”