by Tegan Maher
“You had to die so that the other poor women stand a chance, Sage,” I said.
She grinned at that and nodded. “Yes, I like that,” she said. And her posture straightened a little. What a service she’d done to women around the world, allowing them to catch the eyes of the men in their lives by removing herself from the competition. How noble of her.
I allowed myself a little snicker, because heck I’d need all the laughter I could get to see me through the murder investigation, and then I took one last look at Apple. Unsurprisingly, she hadn’t moved, and I wondered whether to cover her with something.
I checked the room and saw a checked blanket draped across one of the hay bales.
I reached across for it, and as I did, a life-size pumpkin man reared up from behind the bales. His mouth was twisted and his eyes shone red. He was so obviously mechanical I could even hear the creak of his arms as they moved, but I still wanted to get the heck away from him. He swiped in the air as if trying to grab me, and I staggered backwards and made a run for it.
Give me a murder investigation over a pumpkin man attack any day.
“You’re in a rush,” Sage teased as she followed me out of the room at a more leisurely pace.
“Well, you heard Peaches,” I said, my cheeks still flushed. “She has a party to be at.”
6
George had separated everyone as I’d asked. He’d kept the kitchen for himself, and was busy carving a tiny pumpkin when we walked in on him.
“All okay?” He asked hopefully. “Shall I open the door again now?”
“No way,” Sage retorted.
“We need to solve the murder first,” I explained.
“Oh,” he said, his expression glum. He looked back down at the few pumpkins he had yet to carve and shrugged. “I guess I have things to get on with.”
“We’ll need to talk to you,” I said.
He gazed at me blankly. “Me? Oh, yes, since I discovered the body? Okey-dokey, pal.”
“Let’s chat now,” I suggested. “Then you can get back to your pumpkins.”
“Sure thing,” he said. He placed the carving tool on the counter and wiped his hands on an apron that may once have been white but had seen enough pumpkin carvings to be stained forever orange.
“Just talk us through what happened,” I encouraged.
“Coffee?” He offered as he flipped the switch of the kettle.
I shook my head, but he remained at the counter until the kettle had boiled and he’d poured himself a modest cup, using a spoon full of generic value brand instant coffee.
“Ah,” he took a sip and smiled at us. “I’ve never met a cup of coffee I didn’t like.”
Clearly that was right, since he was buying the bargain coffee granules.
“So, George, tell us how you found Apple?”
“I had a check of the house and there she was,” he said with a shrug.
“What made you decide to check around?”
“Some people try to take a souvenir with them as they leave,” he said. His moustache was damp from the coffee. “I try to keep an eye on things.”
“So you weren’t going to check on Apple in particular? You hadn’t heard anything to alarm you?”
“Oh, no,” George said. “I was down here testing out my Halloween playlist. I wouldn’t have heard a thing.”
“You went into that room first? Or had you already checked some other rooms?” Sage asked.
“I always start there,” George said. “The door being closed seems to tempt out the thieves. But some people are really scared of those pumpkin people, would you believe it? I personally think they’re so gosh darn cute! But I try to put them behind a closed door so the scaredy cats can avoid them.”
“Remember that for next year,” Sage whispered to me. I scowled at her.
“And what happened when you found her?” I asked.
“Well, I just about screamed the house down,” George admitted, his eyes wide. “I mean, did you see what killed her?”
“We did,” I said slowly. “What do you mean?”
“I haven’t even used that particular tool yet! Someone stole it from me and used it as a murder weapon! I told you there are thieves! That thing’s going to need a really good clean before I’ll carve a pumpkin with it, let me tell you.”
“George,” I said, “you’re never getting that back, you know? The police don’t just return murder weapons to people.”
“So I lose out because of someone else’s… their… their… their stupidity?!”
“Afraid so,” Sage said. She floated across to the work bench and looked at the pumpkin that was George’s work in progress. “When would someone have had chance to take one of these tools?”
“It must have been when I was pouring punch for someone,” George shook his head, as if this betrayal of his trust - and not the dead body lying upstairs - was the end of his patience with humanity.
“And it’s just Ezra and Peaches in the house?” I asked.
He nodded. “It’s very quiet at this time. To be honest, I’m not fully ready for guests but I can never turn a spooky enthusiast away! But, on that note, there will be crowds of people later. We do need to hurry this along, Connie, please.”
“It’ll take as long as it takes,” I said. There was no point pretending otherwise. I couldn’t solve a murder faster than normal just so his haunted house experience went ahead.
“Of course,” he nodded his head. “Just, if it could take not as long that would be super duper!”
“What do you know of the victim?” I asked. The best way to speed up the process was to keep focused.
“Nothing, really,” he said. “I might have passed her on the street a few times, waved and said hi, that kind of thing. I send her a Christmas card. That kind of thing. I barely know her.”
“Why is that? Was she shy, or something?”
George’s cheeks flushed. “I guess it’s me who’s shy, Connie. Halloween’s the only night I see most people, to be honest. Me and this cute kitty live a quiet life the other 364 days a year.”
The unnamed cat jumped on to the table and began to lap at George’s coffee, while he watched as if that was the most adorable behaviour he’d ever seen.
“Anything else you want to say?” I asked.
“I just… people can be fickle, Connie. If I can’t let them in when they arrive this year, maybe they won’t come back next year. So I sure would appreciate this mess being cleared up as soon as possible.”
I looked at him and felt my heart soften. He was a man who lived his whole life for this one night a year where he was somehow transformed into the town celebrity. Of course he wanted the doors open so his eager visitors could arrive, drink his punch and be amazed by his hard work. Who wouldn’t want that?
I reached out and squeezed his hand. The gesture made him flinch a little, as if he wasn’t used to physical contact with anyone other than the cat who had now finished off his drink. Then he recovered and flashed me a smile.
“We’ll do our best, George. Stay here until I say otherwise, okay?”
He nodded, and before we’d left the room he’d returned to his bench to continue carving.
7
“Ezra?” I smiled as Sage and I entered the room, where he’d made himself at home in between two life size skeletons, one dressed as a bride and the other as a groom.
“Hey,” he said. He didn’t return the smile but he did attempt to stand to welcome us into the room, before his shaky legs saw him collapse back on the settee.
“We need to ask you some questions,” I said.
He nodded.
“You knew Apple?”
“We weren’t dating,” he said, a little too fast. “I mean, we were, but it wasn’t serious. We saw each other sometimes, ya know, when I was around.”
“Oh,” I said. “You were exploring the house with Peaches, not Apple. You know them both?”
“Yeah, man, it’s like that’s her sister, so l
ike, yeah.”
“You must be very upset,” Sage asked.
“Nah,” he said, then his cheeks flushed. “I mean, sure, yeah, but it’s not like she was my wife, know what I’m saying?”
I had the distinct feeling that Ezra and I spoke completely different languages, him the language of being a cool youth and me the language of being an almost middle-aged woman who’d never been cool. Fine. I already was middle-aged.
“It was a casual relationship,” I said.
“Not even a relationship, we just saw each other sometimes. I did my thing, she did her thing, that’s the way it was, yeah.”
I glanced at Sage. To my horror, she seemed entranced by his words. He was a pretty face, and everything he said would be music to her ears.
“Tell me about Apple,” I asked.
“She was cool,” he said, and of course that was the first thing he’d think of because he was of that age where really nothing about a person was more important than their level of cool. “We had a good time and stuff.”
“Did she work?”
He considered the question for way too long. “She did something in, erm, computers.”
He was guessing.
“And did she have any enemies?”
“Man, I don’t know about that,” he admitted. At least he hadn’t tried to guess that one too.
“Anybody who might want to hurt her?”
“I can’t think, lady, we didn’t talk about things like that,” he reached up and scratched the back of his neck and, in doing so, tapped the bride skeleton’s head so it lilted to one side.
“How about her sister? Did they get on?”
“Well…” he paused, and I allowed myself to imagine that this could be the moment where Ezra became more useful than a chocolate teapot. “I don’t really want to get into the sister business, you know?”
“Ezra,” I used my most stern voice. “Your girlfriend has been murdered. This is a very serious investigation and I need you to co-operate.”
“Man,” he dragged the word out and let out a low whistle. “I told you she ain’t my girlfriend already. And I know the drill. I want my lawyer.”
“Ezra,” Sage said. “We know you’re not a killer. Just help us so we can find the person who did it.”
Ezra eyed her warily. I didn’t share my sister’s belief that he was innocent, but I had to admit that her good cop routine was more likely to get him on side. He clearly knew his rights.
“I’d help you if I could,” he said. “I didn’t even know her well, we were just having some fun and now this has happened. It’s all too heavy, man. I didn’t sign up for this.”
“Neither did Apple,” I said.
He blinked at me, the gravity of my words hitting him. He covered his face with his hands and let out another long breath. “You sure she’s dead up there? You checked for a pulse or whatever they do in the movies?”
“She’s dead,” I said. “I’m sorry. I know this is all a shock. Trust me, we’re only trying to help her. You can help us, Ezra, can’t you? You must know something, anything…”
“I know that last night I was with another girl, and Apple kept ringing my cell and I wasn’t answering because, damn, I ain’t stupid. You don’t speak to one girl in front of the other. Makes them get jealous, a little upset like, you know?”
“Ok, and…”
“And tomorrow I have a date with this fine momma who my boy TJ fixed me up with.”
“What’s your point?” Sage asked.
“My point is, when I’m kicking it like this, I can’t know about all their lives and fallouts and stuff. I’m a young buck, I don’t want that heavy stuff.”
“Did she know about the other women?” I asked. An idea had occurred to me; Apple confronting him, a fight breaking out, him stabbing her. Either vengeance or self-defence.
“Sure, sure, she knew. No point rubbing her face in it, though. I’m not a monster.”
“I’m not saying you are,” I said. I sighed. I was so out of touch with the way young people dated and lived their lives. Could a young, pretty girl like Apple really have been happy with whatever part-time casual thing Ezra offered her? Did she have other men lined up, each one taking her out on a different day of the week perhaps? Did she want to have time to focus on her career, or see her sister, or do whatever hobbies she might have had? Maybe a casual relationship suited her too. None of that heavy stuff.
“Is there anything else you can tell us that might be useful?” I asked.
“Nah,” Ezra said with a quick shake of his head. He was handsome, but I didn’t like him. He seemed cocky and standoffish. Sage gazed at him, her eyes wide and her cheeks a little flushed.
I had the feeling she’d happily volunteer for a day a week in his calendar.
“I hope you get it fixed,” he said, and he flashed a smile that I knew would make Sage go weak at the knees. “She was fun to kick it with and now she’s really kicked it. Wow.”
8
“Well, he was quite the…” I began, as we left Ezra alone with his thoughts.
“Heartthrob? Right!” Sage giggled.
“Sure, he’s not ugly,” I conceded. That was enough encouragement for Sage to begin a speech about the benefits of dating a younger man.
“…his energy, can you imagine? Lots of men my own age just can’t keep up with me, Connie. I want to have fun and they’re ready for an early night and a cup of cocoa!”
“Nothing wrong with that,” I murmured. An early night and a cup of cocoa sounded pretty darn good to me. Especially if it included a book to read.
“You would say that, you’re older,” she reminded me. She’d never let me forget that despite being the younger sister, I’d managed to get older than her. Wrinkles, white hairs and the slow feeling of gravity pulling my curves down were all experiences she’d been allowed to skip.
“I can’t imagine anything worse than a man like Ezra,” I said. “So fit and buffed. I bet he spends ages in the bathroom. His beauty regime would beat mine, I’m sure.”
“That’s not hard,” Sage said with a laugh. “You’re the only person I know who still washes their face with soap.”
I rolled my eyes. I didn’t see the sense in spending huge amounts of money on skin care products that promised miracles when I had a perfectly good bar of soap that did the realistic job - kept my skin clean.
“Anyway, if we can concentrate, we need to speak to Peaches,” I said. Sage didn’t reply. We found Peaches in the front sitting room, the curtains drawn closed. The noise from outside carried in and reminded me that it was Halloween, and the rest of the town would be getting on with celebrating the event.
I could tell just from her posture, the way her body caved in on itself, that she had realized that her sister was really dead, and not just playing a role in a murder mystery game.
“Peaches? Can we talk?” I asked.
“P,” she reminded me. She sat on a chair with her legs folded under her in a way that looked painful enough to make me wince. She was one of those long-legged, lithe women who seemed totally at home in their bodies.
“P, that’s right. What’s the issue with your full name?” I asked.
Peaches raised an eyebrow. “It’s the name of a fruit,” she said, as if I hadn’t realised that.
“And that bothers you?”
“Wouldn’t it bother you?”
“Maybe, I guess,” I said. “How about Apple? Did she mind having a fruit name?”
“Gwyneth Paltrow has a daughter named Apple. As soon as she found that out, she didn’t mind.”
“Makes sense,” Sage nodded.
“It would make sense to you. What kind of name is Sage?”
Sage blinked at the woman. My sister had one perspective, and it was one of being globally adored and admired.
“You must be shocked by your sister’s death,” I suggested. Truth was, she seemed pretty composed.
“Of course,” she agreed. “Nobody expects to come
to a haunted house and get killed.”
“Do you have any ideas about who might want to hurt her?”
“Not really,” Peaches said. “She was pretty dull, lived a regular life, you know? I can’t imagine she had a long list of enemies.”
“What can you tell us about Ezra?”
“International man of mystery,” she dead-panned. “What do you want to know?”
“Does he have a temper?” Sage asked. The chilliness in her voice was clear. She hadn’t warmed to Peaches in quite the same way she had to Ezra.
“Not that I’ve seen,” Peaches said.
“Would you have seen it? Would Apple have told you if that was the case?”
“I’m really not that close to my sister,” Peaches offered a lazy shrug. “If he did have a temper like that, I don’t think I’d be the person she’d tell. Not really.”
“So what was your relationship with her like?” I asked. The noises picked up outside, a shriek of someone high on candy as they ran past the house.
“We hadn’t fallen out or anything,” Peaches quickly added. “We were just never close. We’re very different people.”
“How so?”
“She was pretty traditional,” Peaches explained. “I guess I was always the black sheep of the family. I took more risks and chose a different life.”
“What kind of life?” Sage asked. She was really grilling Peaches, no pun intended.
“I’m kind of a free spirit,” she said. “I spent a year living in a Buddhist temple, just helping out with growing the food and having communal meals, walking by the beach. My family couldn’t understand why I wasn’t working on my career and all of that stuff.”
“Funny,” Sage snickered. “You’d imagine the kind of parents who named you after fruit would be happy about that life path.”
If I expected a nail-scratching showdown, I was sure disappointed, because Peaches took a moment to consider Sage’s words, and then tipped her head back and laughed like a hyena.
“Man! That’s a good point! You know, I’d never thought of that before. I’ll tell the parents that next time they moan at me. Ha! You’re funny, Sage,” Peaches said once she’d recovered. I saw my sister instantly forgive her. She was like that. Easily upset, easily placated.