Howloween Murder

by Laurien Berenson

  Hugh held out the offering in his palm. My eyes widened. It was one of Harriet’s marshmallow puffs.

  “Where did you get that?”

  “I picked it up at the food table.” He waved vaguely in the direction of the buffet. “I thought you might want something to snack on while we finish our conversation.”

  Yeah, right. I wasn’t about to touch that thing. Despite what Hugh had said earlier, he must have been hoping I was thick as a brick.

  “I’m not hungry,” I said. “You can have it.”

  “No, it’s for you.” He thrust the puff at my face. “Eat it.”

  I clamped my lips shut. I’d bite him before I’d let him force that poisoned puff down my throat.

  Hugh lifted my hand and placed the sticky treat in my palm. “Go on, take a bite.”

  Obediently I curled my fingers around the marshmallow puff. I raised my hand toward my mouth. A grim smile played around the edges of Hugh’s lips. Sure that he was getting what he wanted, he relaxed fractionally.

  So when my clenched fist shot upward and caught him beneath the chin, he never saw it coming. Hugh’s head flew up. His mouth snapped shut. He staggered backward, trying to find his balance.

  Even so, Hugh didn’t release his hold on my arm. That meant I was dragged along with him. Reaching down with sticky fingers, I frantically tried to pry myself free.

  Hugh stumbled, then found his feet again. A trickle of blood dribbled from his mouth. He’d probably bitten his tongue. The expression on his face was murderous.

  I’d hurt him, but I hadn’t done enough to stop him. Now Hugh would make sure I didn’t get a second chance.

  Then I saw something moving in the shadows behind him. For a moment, I thought I must be imagining things—because it looked as though a large pumpkin was coming toward us. I blinked and looked again.

  Hugh heard something too. He started to turn around, but he wasn’t fast enough. The orange orb lifted high in the air, then came crashing down on his head. The pumpkin split in half with a loud crack. Its guts went flying everywhere.

  Hugh dropped to the floor like a rock. This time, he didn’t get up.

  Harriet was standing behind him. In her black witch’s costume, she’d blended into the dark background. But even in the gloom, I could see her face. She was smiling with satisfaction.

  “Bitch indeed,” she said.

  Chapter Seventeen

  I was pretty sure this night would go down in the annals of Howard Academy as the time I’d ruined the school Halloween party. Even though I couldn’t see any way this whole mess had been my fault.

  Amazingly, the parade continued, uninterrupted, while Harriet pulled out her phone and called 911. Music was still playing. Parents and kids were laughing and dancing, and showing off their costumes.

  As I was tying Hugh’s hands with a length of rope I’d found in the haunted house, Cheryl announced the winners of the costume contest, which led to more celebration. A good time was being had by all. Except, of course, for Hugh, who regained consciousness with an angry snarl on his face.

  By the time the police arrived, Mr. Hanover had been notified of the events that had unfolded virtually behind his back. Thankfully, the other partygoers remained blissfully unaware of the crisis that had been so narrowly avoided. Even the uniformed officers who’d responded to Harriet’s call looked like they were in costume.

  So it was all good, right?

  Well, not entirely.

  Harriet and I both still had a lot of questions to answer. And Hugh immediately got busy denying everything we said. He told the two officers he’d only come to the Halloween party to enjoy himself, and had no idea why two crazy women had attacked him with a pumpkin.

  The fact that Hugh was dressed as the Devil probably didn’t bolster his credibility. I also made one of the officers scrape that sticky marshmallow puff up off the floor and put it in an evidence bag. Once the lab had a chance to test it, the results went a long way toward supporting Harriet’s and my story.

  * * *

  I had one last interview with Detective Young. Harriet had officially been cleared of suspicion in the death of Ralph Penders. But there was still one question remaining.

  “Did Hugh kill Ralph on his own?” I asked. “Or did he and Madison act together?”

  “We’re still not entirely clear on that,” he admitted. “Since their arrests, the two of them have turned on each other. Ms. Penders says she never would have left town if she’d known what Mr. Grainger had in mind. He says that getting rid of her father was all her idea, and he was only following her instructions.”

  Luckily for me, I didn’t have to figure out who was telling the truth and who wasn’t. Ralph’s killers had been caught. Now it was up to the police, the lawyers, and the judicial system to sort out the rest. As long as Harriet was in the clear, and her job at Howard Academy was once again secure, I was happy with the outcome.

  The same couldn’t be said for Harriet’s sister, Bernadette. The poor woman had thought she was in love with Hugh. Finding out that she’d fallen for a con man, who was only cultivating her for her sister’s connections, had come as a bitter blow.

  “She’s feeling pretty low,” Harriet told me. “But Bernie’s resilient. She’ll bounce back. I put a dating app on her phone. She told me she wasn’t interested, but I caught her sneaking a look. ‘Just to see what’s out there.”

  Oh Lord, I thought. That could be out of the frying pan and into the fire. At least this time, Harriet had promised to keep a closer eye on her sister’s amorous adventures.

  After all the turmoil leading up to it, Halloween itself went off without a hitch. Sam escorted a swashbuckling Kev around the neighborhood. Davey liked his own costume idea so much that he dressed up as Steve Jobs to help me hand out candy to trick-or-treaters. Bud and the Standard Poodles lined up in the front hall and greeted each new arrival with wagging tails and doggy grins. It was just the kind of diversion we all needed.

  * * *

  The following week, Beverly and Luke Chism met with Aunt Peg. I had told her that Luke was a quiet child, who was apt to be reserved in unfamiliar company, and that he’d recently lost his own beloved Standard Poodle. Aunt Peg had pondered that for a minute as she gazed at her own canine crew. Then, without sharing her thoughts with me, she’d simply promised to be on her best behavior.

  Aunt Peg and I were waiting at her house when the Chisms arrived. She opened her front door and her five black Poodles went flying down the front steps. Regular visitors were accustomed to that boisterous greeting. I hoped Beverly and Luke wouldn’t mind.

  Luke slowly got out of the car. The Poodles were leaping and playing in the front yard. Seeing him, they raced in his direction as a group, then skidded to a stop. Luke gazed around in wonder. Five faces, all similar to his Molly, gazed back at him.

  The dogs seemed to sense his reticence. They waited until Luke was ready before completing their approach. He held out his hands. One by one, the Poodles stepped forward to check him out. His fingers lightly grazed the topknot of Aunt Peg’s senior dog, whose muzzle was gray with age.

  “That’s Beau,” Aunt Peg told him. “He’s thirteen. And very much the king of all he surveys. He likes you, and that means I do too.”

  Luke offered her a shy smile, which Aunt Peg returned in spades. I don’t know why I’d ever worried.

  Beverly came around the front of the car and I introduced everyone. Then we went inside to sit down and talk Poodles. The dogs, of course, came with us. While the three adults got comfortable on couches and chairs, Luke joined the Standard Poodles on the floor.

  Beverly told Aunt Peg all about the wonderful life Molly had enjoyed with her family. She volunteered information about their fenced yard, mobile groomer, and veterinary references. She spoke about how Luke was mourning the loss of his dog, and said she would be grateful if Aunt Peg could help them find them a suitable puppy. Beverly hoped it wouldn’t take too long.

  Luke, meanwhile,
had gathered the Poodles in a circle around him. The group appeared to be engaged in their own private conversation.

  Each time his hand touched a different Poodle, Aunt Peg would quietly supply the dog’s name. Luke would repeat it, then pause to look for a response. He grinned as each Poodle licked his fingers or placed its head in his lap.

  “That’s Hope,” I told him when the pretty bitch took her turn. “She’s Faith’s sister.”

  “She looks like Faith,” Luke replied. “They have the same eyes.”

  They did, indeed. Although most people didn’t notice such a small detail upon first acquaintance. I saw Aunt Peg nod approvingly.

  A dainty black bitch stepped to the front of the group. She sniffed Luke’s hand, then his shoulder. Then she leaned forward and nudged his chin. When the boy laughed, she pushed Hope aside and carefully lay down on top of Luke’s crossed legs. She was a big Poodle, so it took some maneuvering to get them both comfortable.

  Luke leaned down—it wasn’t very far—and gave her a hug. He buried his face in her dense hair.

  “Willow’s a very good judge of character,” Aunt Peg said. “She doesn’t make herself at home in just anybody’s lap.”

  “I’m glad she chose mine,” Luke said happily, his arms still looped around the Poodle’s neck.

  “Your Poodles are wonderful.” Beverly smiled down at her son. “My husband and I would be thrilled to have one just like them for Luke. Please say you’ll help us find a breeder. Melanie told me you have many connections in the Poodle world. I’d be happy to supply more references, or anything else you need.”

  “Oh, I think I’ll be able to come up with a good idea or two.” Aunt Peg’s eyes were twinkling. She looked very pleased with herself.

  I wondered what she was up to now.

  “I just have one question,” Aunt Peg said. “Do you have your heart set on a puppy?”

  Beverly considered briefly, then shook her head. “No, an adult Poodle would be fine too.” She looked at her son. “Right, Luke?”

  He nodded. He was still holding Willow close.

  “Are you thinking about a dog from a rescue situation?” Beverly asked. “Maybe one that didn’t work out for someone else?”

  “Not exactly,” Aunt Peg told her. “At one time, I was a very active Standard Poodle breeder and exhibitor. Now, however, I spend much of my time judging dog shows. It’s a job that demands quite a bit of travel, so I’ve cut back on the number of dogs I keep at home.”

  My gaze sharpened. All at once, I suspected I knew what she was going to say next.

  Beverly was listening, waiting for Aunt Peg to make her point. Luke had lifted the flap of Willow’s ear. He was confiding a secret to her.

  “As you know, Poodles are people dogs. More than anything, they want to be by their person’s side. So the fact that I’m often away from home isn’t a perfect situation. For me, or for them.” Aunt Peg looked down at the Poodles spread out on the floor around us.

  “If you would be open to the idea, I would consider placing one of my Poodles with you,” she continued. “Willow would thrive in a home where she was the only dog. Especially one where there was a young boy who wanted to devote all his attention to her.”

  I heard a gasp. It came from Luke. His head swiveled around. He looked up at his mother imploringly. “Can we, Mom? Can we?”

  Beverly stared at Aunt Peg. She was surprised too. “Are you sure? It seems like almost too much to ask.”

  “I’m quite sure.” Aunt Peg smiled. “I wouldn’t make an offer like this lightly. But I think it could work out well for all of us. Especially Willow, who would love to have a child like Luke to play with every day.”

  “I don’t know quite what to say,” Beverly sputtered.

  “Say yes!” Luke cried. “Please, Mommy.”

  “Yes,” she agreed happily. “Yes, of course. Luke and I would be delighted to take you up on your offer.”

  “Good, then we’ll start with a trial period . . .”

  I left when Aunt Peg began outlining how they would proceed. They could work out the details among themselves. As usual, Aunt Peg had come up with a solution that was both unexpected and at the same time utterly perfect.

  I got in the Volvo and went home to my family. And my Poodles. And a big pile of leftover Halloween candy. Harriet had even stopped by to drop off a batch of marshmallow puffs she’d made especially for me. I couldn’t wait to dig in.

  After the week I’d had, I deserved a serious sugar rush.

  HARRIET BLOOM’S MARSHMALLOW PUFFS

  Harriet’s secret recipe is easy to make and delicious to eat. These sweet treats will stick to your fingers and are best served chilled. The perfect indulgence for an autumn afternoon.

  Ingredients:

  Base

  2 ounces unsweetened chocolate

  6 tbsps (¾ stick) butter

  1 cup sugar

  2 small eggs

  ½ tsp vanilla

  ½ cup flour

  Toppings

  1 package mini marshmallows

  4 ounces semisweet chocolate chips

  1-2 tbsps milk

  Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Grease or spray a 9- x 13-inch baking pan.

  Microwave unsweetened chocolate and butter in a microwave-safe bowl for 45–60 seconds, then stir until the chocolate is completely melted. Add the remaining base ingredients, mixing together thoroughly as you go along. The batter will be thick. Take care to spread it evenly in the baking pan.

  Bake for 12–13 minutes until a toothpick inserted in the middle comes out clean. Remove pan from oven and add a generous topping of mini marshmallows. (I throw on the whole bag.) Return to the oven for 4–5 minutes until the marshmallows melt together and begin to turn golden. Remove from oven and set aside to cool.

  Put the semisweet chocolate chips in a microwave-safe bowl. Melt in the microwave, stirring frequently (about 1 minute). If the chocolate is too thick, stir in 1-2 tbsps of milk to thin. Drizzle the chocolate topping over the marshmallows.

  Chill thoroughly and enjoy.