Howloween Murder

by Laurien Berenson

  “I put them in the walk-in freezer in the kitchen,” Harriet said quickly. “Eight full trays on the lower racks to the right.”

  Mr. Hanover’s gaze returned to me. “I believe precautions are in order. We can’t take the chance that our supply of marshmallow puffs might be contaminated too. While Harriet and I consider our options, would you be so kind as to retrieve those eight trays and bring them here to my office?”

  “Yes, of course,” I stammered.

  “Go, Ms. Travis.” The headmaster pointed at the door. “Go now and run quickly.”

  Chapter Four

  The Joshua Howard mansion was a Victorian-era building, designed in the belief that servants would be the ones doing the running. Apparently, no one back then had cared about the fact that its hallways weren’t arranged in a logical fashion. I raced flat out on the way to the kitchen. Even so, it took me three minutes to get there.

  Betty Plimpton was Howard Academy’s head of food services. She was in the back of the room, supervising the lunch preparations when I came skidding through the swinging door. Doubled over slightly, I paused to catch my breath. When I inhaled deeply, I realized that the room was scented with rosemary, lemon, and roasting chicken.

  In other circumstances, I’d have stopped to appreciate that. Now there wasn’t time. Instead I straightened and turned to face Mrs. Plimpton, who was coming to greet me with a smile.

  “You must be hungry. Most teachers wait in the dining room for us to serve them. Lunch won’t be ready for another hour, but I can probably find something for you to munch on in the meantime.”

  “No,” I gasped. “I mean, no thank you. That’s very nice of you. But I’m here for a different reason. I need to get something from your freezer. It’s important.”

  “I’m happy to help.” Despite her words, Mrs. Plimpton looked perplexed. “But I have no idea why you’d want to appropriate something from our food stores. There’s nothing in the freezer except the things we use to prepare school meals.”

  “And eight trays of marshmallow puffs,” I said. Now that I was standing still, it was easier to talk.

  “You’re right, I forgot about them. We’re storing Harriet’s famous treats until the Halloween party at the end of the week.”

  “Yes, I know. Harriet told me.” It seemed better not to mention the context in which she’d shared that information. “She’d like me to retrieve them.”

  Mrs. Plimpton frowned. “You’re sure about that? There are quite a few, several hundred at least. And it’s still several days until the party. Once they’re removed from the freezer . . .”

  “They’ll defrost and start to go stale,” I finished for her. “I’m aware of that. But it can’t be helped.”

  And it wouldn’t matter anyway. After today’s events, Harriet’s marshmallow puffs wouldn’t be on the menu.

  Mrs. Plimpton hesitated. She studied me for a moment. Howard Academy was a small community. I knew she would at least have an idea who I was. But that didn’t prevent her from doubting the validity of my odd request.

  “This isn’t some sort of practical joke, is it?”

  “Definitely not.”

  “Well, then.” She rubbed her hands together briskly as if absolving herself of responsibility. “Let’s get started. It’ll be a lot to transport. Eight very full trays, if I remember correctly. Depending on how far you’re taking them, we’ll need to get you a rolling cart?”

  I ignored the implied question. There was no way I was going to announce that the marshmallow puffs were going to the headmaster’s office. “That would be great. Thank you for your help.”

  Fifteen minutes later, I was back in the front hall, this time accompanied by a metal kitchen cart loaded down with frozen treats. The area was empty—that was no surprise. This time of morning, everyone was doing their jobs elsewhere, just like I should have been.

  I’d left the door to Mr. Hanover’s office open behind me. Now it was firmly shut. Through the mansion’s wide front windows, I could see that a dark sedan was parked just outside. The police must have arrived.

  I wondered what I should do next. One thing I didn’t dare do was check my watch again. By now, Eddie Mackelroy, my eleven o’clock student, would be twiddling his thumbs in my classroom. And that was if I was lucky.

  Eddie was an inveterate mischief-maker. If he’d devoted as much time to his studies as he did to devising pranks, he wouldn’t have needed my tutoring. Right now, it was equally likely that he was out in the second-floor hallway with Faith, bouncing a ball off the wall for the big Poodle to catch.

  In which case, all three of us would be in trouble.

  I rolled the cart across the hardwood floor and parked it behind Harriet’s desk. I supposed I could leave it there and run back to my classroom. The marshmallow puffs were frozen and enclosed in cling wrap. It was unlikely that a passerby would even recognize them, much less snitch one. So I could probably leave with a clear conscience.

  But on the other hand, the police were here. That meant something really interesting was happening in Mr. Hanover’s office. I cast a furtive glance around the area. There was still no one in sight, which meant that no one would know if I crept over and listened at the office door.

  That had to be fate, right?

  On a normal day, Harriet would have been the one to prevent such an egregious breach of etiquette. Today her chair was empty. If I tried hard enough, I could see the hand of fate in that development too.

  I inched closer and rested my ear gently against a burnished oak panel. And heard nothing. I shut my eyes to concentrate and tried again. Still nothing. Like really nothing. Damn this old mansion with its solid fixtures. Now I just felt stupid. I took a step back and thought about walking away. Then I lifted my hand and knocked on the door instead.

  “Come,” the headmaster said from within.

  I turned the knob, nudged the door open, and peeked inside the room. Mr. Hanover was standing in front of his desk. His arms were folded over his chest. Harriet, looking nervous, was seated at the edge of a straight-backed chair.

  A tall, distinguished-looking black man was standing near the fireplace. I recognized him from our earlier encounters: Detective Raymond Young of the Greenwich Police Department.

  Impatiently the headmaster waved me into the office. Detective Young glanced up as I entered. “Ms. Travis.” He inclined his head slightly. “Why am I not surprised to see you here?”

  “I’m sure I have no idea,” I said primly.

  Maybe someone else believed that. I know I didn’t.

  “We were just wrapping up here,” Mr. Hanover informed me. “Did you secure the marshmallow puffs?”

  “Yes, they’re right outside.”

  Wrapping up? I thought. That was quick.

  I shot Harriet a look. She ignored me. Her eyes were fastened on the detective, tracking him as he crossed the room. She looked as if she was afraid he might decide to turn around and talk to her again.

  “Detective Young will be leaving now,” the headmaster said. “He had some questions for Harriet, which I advised her not to answer until she’d secured the services of an attorney. Howard Academy will, of course, provide assistance and resources with regard to that undertaking.”

  “Of course,” I murmured.

  Howard Academy protected its own. And thank goodness for that. Mr. Hanover would make sure that Harriet was in good hands.

  Young looked back and forth between the headmaster and me. “These marshmallow things that are outside . . . are they from the same batch that Ralph Penders ate?”

  We all looked to Harriet for confirmation. She nodded.

  “Then if you don’t mind, I’d like to take them with me.”

  Nobody objected to that. Mr. Hanover had been concerned that the treats might fall into innocent hands. Removing them from the school grounds seemed the best way to ensure that didn’t happen.

  Harriet and Mr. Hanover remained in his office. So it was left to me to help Det
ective Young transfer the trays of puffs to the trunk of his car.

  “That’s a lot of marshmallow,” he said as we stacked the last two flats on top of the others.

  I gazed at the treats wistfully. “They wouldn’t even have lasted an hour at our Halloween party. The kids love them. Actually, so do I. They’re delicious.”

  Young shook his head as he slammed the trunk shut. “It seems Ralph Penders thought so too. He’d gobbled a bunch right down.”

  “What happened wasn’t Harriet’s fault,” I said quickly. “Whatever you’re thinking, she didn’t do it. Harriet is innocent.”

  The detective’s dark brown eyes looked steadily into mine. Previously I’d found him to be a fair man, one who considered all the evidence before making up his mind. But now I wondered whether this time—even this early in the case—he’d already settled on his main suspect.

  “We’ll have to see about that, Ms. Travis,” he said soberly. “Won’t we?”

  * * *

  When I finally got back to my classroom—half an hour late—both Eddie and Faith were missing. My heart dropped into my stomach at the sight of the empty room.

  One person delinquent on my watch was bad enough. Two was beyond the pale. I could only hope that Eddie and Faith were together somewhere safe—and preferably not within sight of an authority who might be tempted to ask questions.

  I was debating where to look first when I heard the sound of running feet. I popped my head out the classroom door and saw Eddie heading my way down the corridor. Long pink tongue lolling out of her mouth, Faith was dancing happily at his side. The two of them looked inordinately pleased with themselves.

  “Yo, Ms. T! Where ya been?” Eddie chortled as they entered the room together.

  Faith ignored me and went directly to her water bowl. Okay, maybe I deserved that. I had left her on her own for quite a while.

  A stack of Eddie’s books was piled on the round table. He slipped into a seat beside them and grabbed his notebook off the top. Faith sighed and flopped down on her bed. I stared at the two of them incredulously. Both looked entirely innocent, as if they’d never left their assigned spots.

  AWOL? Who us?

  Three could play that game, I decided. If they weren’t going to explain themselves, neither was I. I pulled out a chair and sat down across from Eddie.

  “What are those words coming out of your mouth?” I asked. “Some kind of rapper lingo? You’re a white boy whose mother is a pro golfer. You wear a necktie to school. Nobody’s going to believe you grew up on the mean streets. You’re just making yourself sound silly.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Eddie grinned. “Whatever you say.” He gave his vowels a posh, country club roll. “Is this better, ma’am?”

  I shook my head fondly. “You drive me crazy. You know that, right?”

  “Not on purpose,” Eddie replied. He didn’t look even slightly chastened.

  “Thank you for taking care of Faith for me.”

  “Hey, no prob . . . I mean, you’re welcome. Faith’s a great dog. She and I went for a little run outside, that’s all.”

  “We only have five minutes left to work together, and midterms are right around the corner. How about if we schedule an extra tutoring session for tomorrow?”

  “Sure, Ms. T.” Eddie slammed his notebook shut. “You’re the boss.”

  Eddie left when the bell rang and I spent the next hour catching up on work I’d missed earlier. Between Cheryl’s ghost and Harriet’s marshmallow puffs, it had been an unexpectedly eventful morning.

  My job at Howard Academy runs from eight thirty a.m. until one p.m., five days a week. The previous school year, I’d picked up my younger son, Kevin, at his preschool on my way home. This fall, he’d graduated to kindergarten. Kev was now enrolled in a class at HA, and he and I commuted both ways together.

  My older son, Davey, goes to high school in our neighboring town, Stamford. He rides the bus, which gives me one less thing to worry about on hectic mornings when I’m running late. Since our household also contains six dogs and a husband, Sam, whom I loved dearly—but just two bathrooms and a limited supply of hot water—it seems like nearly all our mornings are hectic.

  A few minutes before one o’clock, Faith and I went to pick up Kevin. Classrooms for the younger students are in the rear of the mansion. Once again, I made my way across the passageway from the new building. This time, I didn’t even glance toward the front hall.

  Dismissal was in progress when we arrived. Kevin’s teacher, Jill Wheeler, was supervising the distribution of her kids to various moms and caretakers. Kev saw us coming and came running. He ignored me and threw his arms around Faith’s neck.

  Jill just laughed. “Nobody pays any attention to me either when there’s an animal around. Kevin’s doing great. He’s a pleasure to teach. I’m delighted to have him in my class.”

  I thanked her and herded child and Poodle out to the parking lot. Kev was a charmer, all right. He was a fair-haired, blue-eyed replica of his father, right down to his killer smile. Kevin had never met anyone he didn’t like. His only attitude toward life was full speed ahead.

  When we reached the Volvo, he was bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Happy Halloween!” he cried.

  “Thank you,” I replied. “But Halloween isn’t until Saturday.”

  I knew that didn’t matter. Kevin loved all holidays. He was already excited.

  He threw his backpack on the floor of the car, then hopped up so I could buckle him into his booster seat. Faith jumped onto the backseat beside him. I got behind the wheel and we were good to go.

  “Saturday is still four days away,” Kev said as we coasted down the long driveway. He was counting on his fingers. “That’s a long time.”

  “The Halloween party is closer,” I told him. “Just three days. It’s on Friday night.”

  “How come?”

  “Because this year the holiday doesn’t fall on a school day. Lucky you. It’ll be like having two Halloweens.”

  Kev considered that. “Will I get twice as much candy?”

  “Maybe.” I wasn’t new at the mom thing—so I knew better than to make any promises about that. “Have you given any more thought to your costume?”

  Sam and I were planning to dress up for the party as Gomez and Morticia Addams. I’d known that for a month. But even though the holiday was just a few days away, Kevin was still considering his options. As the person who would be charged with pulling together his costume, I was just hoping that he’d settle on something that could be whipped up without much advance notice.

  “A ghost!” he cried gleefully.

  I groaned under my breath. I’d had my fill of ghosts today.

  “What’s the matter with that?” Kev asked from the backseat.

  “Nothing,” I said quickly. “I was just thinking you might want to be something more exciting. Like an astronaut.”

  Davey had been an astronaut once, so we already had the costume. With a few nips and tucks, it could easily be made ready for round two.

  “A ghost,” Kevin repeated.

  It wasn’t the worst choice, I realized. I could throw an old sheet over his head and call it a costume.

  “Or maybe a software designer,” Kev mused.

  That was new. Software design was Sam’s field. So I knew where that idea must have come from.

  “That could work,” I told him.

  “What do software designers wear?”

  “Anything they want.” Yes!

  Kevin frowned. He didn’t like that answer at all.

  For five minutes, we rode in silence. Kev was looking out the window. Then his gaze drifted downward to Faith, who was lying on the seat beside him with-her head nestled between her front paws.

  “I know!” Kev announced. “I’ll dress up like a Poodle.”

  This time when I groaned, I made sure he didn’t hear me.

  Chapter Five

  Stamford is a thriving metropolis on the Connecticut coast in lo
wer Fairfield County. On the south end of the city, beaches flank the Long Island Sound. In midtown, numerous restaurants, corporations, and malls call the business district home. There are residential pockets spread throughout the city, but land becomes more readily available to the north. Neighborhoods there are quiet and spacious.

  My family lives on the other side of the Merritt Parkway in North Stamford. Our house is classic Colonial in style. It sits on two acres of land, much of which is securely fenced for our dogs. Faith is just one of five black Standard Poodles we own. All our Poodles are former show dogs and they’re all interrelated. The sixth member of our canine crew is Bud—a small, spotted mutt my teenage son, Davey, and I brought home after he’d been abandoned by the side of the road.

  Ours is a busy household. Sometimes it’s hard to make yourself heard above the din. A recent family project involved carving a half-dozen pumpkins to decorate the front of the house for Halloween. Though that had mostly gone well, I was pretty sure Bud had nabbed a stray pumpkin stem and hidden it under the couch.

  Kevin and I spent much of the afternoon running errands. When we got home, Sam waved to us from the top of a tall ladder, where he was fixing a loose gutter. Davey stayed late at school for soccer practice, then caught a ride home with a friend. So it wasn’t until dinnertime that we all had a chance to connect.

  The dogs had been fed before we sat down to eat, but they were hanging around the kitchen anyway. The Poodles stayed because they were always happiest being wherever their people were. Bud remained because he was ever hopeful that a stray tidbit would fall from someone’s fork and end up in his mouth. With meat loaf on the menu, and Kevin as the little dog’s champion, it wasn’t a vain hope.

  Faith and her daughter, Eve, were lying down behind my chair. Our two male Poodles, Augie and Tar, were under the table between Sam and Davey. Older bitch, Raven, was curled up in the dog bed. Predictably, Bud was beneath Kevin’s chair. At less than twenty pounds, he was able to fit into all sorts of places the bigger dogs couldn’t go.

  Since we’d just sat down, Kev’s plate was still full. I made a mental note to keep an eye on his food, in case it started disappearing too quickly.