Pumpkin Roll

by Josi S. Kilpack

  She let out a breath and wondered where life would take her next. It wasn’t that she regretted the changes—she’d always been open to adventure—but she missed the easy comfort she used to feel living in Garrison. It wasn’t fair to give other people all the blame, though; she knew she approached them differently too, unsure what gossip they had heard or what decisions they’d made about her.

  Cautious.

  That’s how she felt about even the people she’d been friends with for the last twenty-five years. Cautious was uncomfortable.

  She looked up to see that she was only a few houses away from her destination. Instinctively her eyes moved to the house across the street from Jared and Heather’s—Mrs. Wapple’s.

  The “Mrs.” meant she was, or had been, married. Where was her husband? The yard was unkempt, the grass long and matted in places, and the front flower beds that bordered the small Cape Cod house were bare dirt—no flower stalks or landscaping remnants anywhere in sight. The hole from last night was filled, though a faint layer of dirt remained on the sidewalk. There were no Halloween decorations, and even from here, Sadie could see where real spiderwebs clogged the corners of the recessed doorway and had caught stray leaves. A portion of rain gutter had broken away from the eaves on the east side and hung across the front window; the first heavy snow of the upcoming winter would likely rip it off completely.

  The house was painted a medium-gray, but water stains had given it a mottled look. Jared and Heather’s house, along with most of the houses on the street, had a hip-high chain-link fence. Mrs. Wapple’s front yard was fence-free, though a six-foot-tall wooden fence with an additional foot and a half of latticework on top jutted out from the sides of the house and wrapped around the back half of the property, completely hiding the backyard from view. Sadie wondered what required that much privacy. She still stuck by what she’d told the boys last night, though—that Mrs. Wapple was just a silly old lady. She was intriguing, however, Sadie had to admit that.

  The front gate of Jared’s house creaked when she opened it, and she made a note to add “Oil the gate hinges” to Pete’s list of household projects. All the houses along the street had an alley running behind them that led to single-car garages, or sometimes a carport. With garages in the back, the houses were even closer together. There was no street parking allowed overnight, which kept the street uncluttered.

  Heather had decorated the front door with a ghost made of several layers of gauzy fabric. It had silent black eyes and an O-shaped mouth. As Sadie headed up the walkway, she watched it swing gently in the wind and had an idea about how to satisfy her curiosity about the witch across the street. That her plan involved baking—her favorite autumn pastime—was merely all the more reason to follow through.

  Chapter 3

  I’m just trying to understand your motives,” Pete said a few hours later as he snitched a ginger cookie off the cooling rack. Sadie had spent the morning cleaning up breakfast, getting the two younger boys bathed and dressed, getting herself ready, e-mailing Shawn the new case info, and double-checking that she had everything she needed for dinner. She’d forgotten how much work it took to run a house and take care of little kids at the same time. And she’d only had one boy, not three; they were a force of nature all their own. The boys were currently in the backyard playing and Sadie was busy transferring the last pan of cookies to the cooling rack and pretending not to notice the cookie theft taking place right under her nose—Pete’s second.

  “Do I need to give you Pete’s Advice Number Three?” He took a bite of his cookie as though issuing her a challenge.

  “Is that the one about not breaking the law or the one about not misleading you?” Sadie asked, clearing the pan. Pete’s bits of “advice” were more like lectures, and they’d been repeated so frequently since Sadie started her business that she’d numbered them in order to make it easier for Pete to dispense his wisdom. It had become a bit of a joke between them now, or at least half a joke.

  Pete leaned back in his chair and crossed his ankles. It was eleven o’clock in the morning and Pete was still wearing sweatpants. Sweatpants! Babysitting brought out a whole new side of Pete, or maybe just being out of Garrison was the secret ingredient. Either way, Sadie liked it . . . a lot. Not that she didn’t always enjoy Pete’s company, but it was fun to see Pete so laid-back. He kept talking. “Pete’s Advice Number One is about lying to me—”

  “Misleading,” Sadie corrected, pointing her spatula at him. “I never lied to you.”

  “Okay, then,” Pete said in a tone far too diplomatic to truly be agreeing with her. “Advice One is about misleading me. Advice Two is about breaking the law. Advice Three is about sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong, isn’t needed, or will create more problems than relief.” He popped the last of his cookie into his mouth.

  Sadie scrunched up her face. “Huh, it’s funny that nowhere in any of your wisdom is there anything about taking cookies to a lonely woman.”

  Pete narrowed his eyes at her and finished chewing before he swallowed. “As I said, I believe that Advice Three covers that.”

  Sadie put a hand to her chest and widened her eyes with exaggerated horror at the suggestion that she had some kind of ulterior motive. “Quite frankly, Peter Cunningham, I’m offended.”

  He smirked at her, and Sadie smiled back, glad he found her so entertaining. She was totally taking these cookies across the street and he knew it. “Just to show you how pure my motives are, I’ve decided to take a plate to the houses next door as well. All the neighbors are getting cookies.”

  “Nice save,” Pete said with a nod. “But I can still see right through it. This is all about Mrs. Wapple and satisfying your curiosity.”

  “He says as though he has no curiosity about the woman at all,” Sadie muttered.

  “I’m on vacation,” Pete said. “I left my badge at home.”

  “No you didn’t,” Sadie said with a laugh. “It’s in your suitcase.”

  “I was speaking metaphorically.”

  “I believe Advice Number One would fit this situation nicely,” Sadie said. “And for your insubordination you get to do the dishes.”

  “No fair,” Pete said, straightening in his chair and looking at the sink full of dishes. “You made the mess.”

  “Oooh,” Sadie said, brandishing her spatula again. “You might want to take that back.”

  He looked from her to the spatula to the cookies. “Can I have another cookie?”

  “You can have two,” Sadie said. “After you do the dishes.” She turned to the cupboard and took out a plate. She’d used paper plates for the other neighbors, but if Sadie used a real plate for Mrs. Wapple’s cookies, she’d have an excuse to go back tomorrow in order to collect it—increasing her opportunity for observation 100 percent. She glanced out the window to check on the boys and then turned back to the table just as Pete stopped chewing another pilfered cookie, as though she wouldn’t notice. “You’re incorrigible,” she said.

  Caught, Pete shrugged and finished chewing. Sadie set down the plate and he helped her fill it with the soft brown cookies. She’d rolled the dough in sugar before baking, so they had the slightest shimmer when a melted sugar crystal caught the light just so. Once the plate was filled, Sadie covered it with plastic wrap, gave Pete a quick kiss, and headed out the door, curious to find out a little more information about the witch across the street.

  When she pressed Mrs. Wapple’s doorbell, she didn’t hear anything inside. She pushed again. Nothing. Transferring the plate to one hand, she pulled open the screen door, cringing at the high-pitched squeak. You’d think the door hadn’t been opened for years with the racket it made. Looking down, she startled to see a huge spiderweb she’d pulled free between the front door and the screen door—complete with a nickel-sized spider in the corner. She jumped away with a little scream, and the screen door slowly closed, creaking as it did so and giving her chills. She took a deep breath to calm herself and looked around
to see if anyone was watching. Pete grinned at her from the picture window and gave her a thumbs-up sign that she pointedly ignored.

  When she turned back, the screen door had closed. Did she dare open it again? If the spider came for her, she could easily smoosh it, right? When she’d been a little girl, her brother Jack had said he’d pay her a quarter if she’d kill one in his room. She’d taken the job, and then almost thrown up when she felt the exoskeleton crush beneath her shoe. Even thinking about it now made her shiver. Jack still owed her that quarter.

  She reached out to grab the handle, but couldn’t do it and quickly pulled back, wiping her hand on her pants. Instead, she knocked loudly on the Plexiglas screen door and waited. She couldn’t hear footsteps, and after fifteen seconds, she knocked a second time, knowing the sound would be hard to hear inside. Twenty seconds passed before she accepted that no one was going to answer the door. Bummer.

  However, the fact that the front door wasn’t well-used simply meant that Mrs. Wapple had another entrance. Sadie went down the two porch steps and looked at the fence that stretched out from both sides of the house. How did Mrs. Wapple get in and out so quickly last night? There must be a hidden gate in the slatted fence. Maybe one with interior hinges. She walked to the right side of the house and began inspecting the longer section of fence, looking from top to bottom at each four-inch slat. They were snug against each other, but there had to be something. Before she knew it, she’d reached the far side of the fence where the wood butted up against the chain-link fence of the neighboring house. Undeterred, she retraced her path, taking even slower steps and looking even more methodically for anything that might betray a camouflaged gate. There were a few knotholes she was tempted to peer through, but that felt a little extreme.

  She was halfway back to the front door when she realized that even if she found a gate, she couldn’t enter the backyard of someone’s home without permission—that would be in direct violation of Pete’s Advice Number Three. Still, she’d like to know how Mrs. Wapple came and went so quickly.

  Sadie scanned the ground up ahead to see if there was an area of worn grass that might indicate a gate, and nearly jumped out of her skin when she saw a pair of sneakers instead.

  Her eyes snapped up until she was looking into the face of Mrs. Wapple. Or, rather, someone who looked like Mrs. Wapple. Only not so much like her, really.

  The woman had her brown hair twisted up into a knot at the back of her head. Not a sloppy knot with pieces sticking out here and there, but a smooth bun-like twist. She looked to be a good fifteen years younger than Sadie, meaning she wasn’t an old lady in any sense of the word, and had taken excellent care of her skin, which resulted in softer wrinkles and even coloring; Sadie would bet this woman always wore sunblock. The brown eyes behind the wire-rimmed glasses were inquisitive, and she was dressed in a light tan jogging suit not much different from a certain purple jogging suit Sadie had ruined last spring while involved in one of her unfortunate incidents.

  “Can I help you?” the woman asked. She had polished, manicured nails that weren’t long enough to be pretentious but weren’t short enough to suggest a lot of time in dishwater. Her accent pegged her as a born and bred Bostonian, but the tones were rich, with firm emphasis and elocution. Schooled. The observations about her up-close appearance and tone of voice were small details compared to Sadie’s confusion about whether or not this woman was the same one she’d observed last night. She didn’t seem to recognize Sadie, which was strange since she’d stared so intently at her the night before.

  Sadie gathered her thoughts and held out the plate. “I’m Sadie Hoffmiller. I’m staying with the Cunninghams’ children while they look for a new home in Dallas and thought I’d come over and say hello to the neighbors. Are you Mrs. Wapple?”

  The woman smiled, a very kind and natural smile, and accepted the plate with her delicate fingers. “Well, if you’re visiting, then shouldn’t I be the one to bring you cookies?”

  Sadie decided to pretend that she hadn’t seen a crazy lady outside last night at all. “I wouldn’t turn them down,” she said with a laugh. “But there’s no need. For me, autumn means baking and I simply can’t—or at least I shouldn’t—eat them all myself. I thought it was a good excuse to get to know the neighbors even if I’ll be here for only a few days.”

  “Well, thank you,” the woman said, transferring the plate to one hand and extending her other one to shake. She did not have an impressive grip, but Sadie didn’t hold that against her. “Pleased to meet you . . . oh, I’m sorry, what was your name again?”

  “Sadie. Sadie Hoffmiller. I’m afraid I didn’t catch your first name either.”

  “Oh, um, I’m Delores,” she said, inspecting the cookies on the plate. “These look delicious, thank you.”

  They had run out of things to say pretty quickly, and Sadie fumbled around in her mind to think of a topic of conversation before settling on the weather. For all the jokes people made, the fact was that every person in the world was highly influenced by the weather. “I have to say, I think I picked the perfect time of year to come.”

  “Oh, indeed,” Delores said, looking around. The street was peppered with trees, all of them varying shades of red, orange, and yellow. Breathtaking, really. “It’s my favorite season, although I suppose most of us who live here would say the same thing.” She looked back at Sadie. “Well, thank you for the cookies.”

  She was giving Sadie her exit orders. And Sadie would leave with nothing more than increased confusion. She could not allow that to happen! “Do you live here alone?” she asked before she considered her manners.

  For an instant—no, not even that long—something crossed Delores’s face. It wasn’t anger or fear or even surprise, just . . . concern, maybe? “I do,” she said quickly—not so fast as to appear suspicious but not so slow as to have the pause noted. But Sadie had seen the split-second reaction to her question. “Why do you ask?”

  “Oh,” Sadie said, forcing herself to relax. “I still have three dozen cookies across the street. If you were going to have to fight for your own share, I could bring you some more.”

  “This will be plenty,” Delores said, smiling. “You’re very generous. Thank you. If you can wait a moment, I’ll put these on another plate and get this one back to you.”

  “Oh, no,” Sadie said. “I’ll just come back for it tomorrow.” She started toward the walkway, stepping past Delores in the process, aware that she still hadn’t found a gate. She reached the sidewalk and turned back to wave. Delores was standing in the same place, though she was facing Sadie this time. Her smile was just as pleasant as it had always been.

  Sadie let out a sigh as she looked both ways before crossing the street. She immediately saw two redheaded boys jumping on the couch in front of the picture window, waving frantically to get her attention. She laughed and waved back with both hands, which only fueled their mania. It wasn’t until she reached the front door that she looked back a second time. Delores was gone. Sadie looked at the grass but couldn’t see an obvious pathway. Where had she come from, and where did she go?

  Sadie went inside, and it was a full five minutes before Pete could ask her how it went; he’d only been able to watch for a minute before the boys came in from the backyard, throwing shoes and coats in every direction. The boys were playing Toy Story in the living room, giving Sadie time to cover the other cookies on paper plates with plastic wrap. By the time she finished recounting her exchange with Delores, Pete had that look on this face—that look that said he was thinking very hard about something.

  “What?” she asked.

  “She came from the other side.”

  “The other side?” Sadie said, immediately thinking about a book she’d read on near-death experiences that had the same name. She didn’t think that was what he meant, though.

  “Of the house—south. You were looking on the north side.”

  Sadie hurried to the picture window, dodging Woody’s lasso in
the process, and looked to the south side of the house. There was only about six feet of fencing on the south side, and it was farther from the front door. Why would there be a gate over there? But Sadie could see a rather faint path in the grass, arching from the fence to the sidewalk that led to the front door. Pete came up behind her and by the sound of it, he was eating yet another cookie. The man was going to make himself sick if he didn’t show a little more restraint.

  “Interior hinges,” Sadie said, looking at the slats of the fence. “I knew it. But why not just use the front door?”

  Pete nudged her. “Because she’s a witch, remember? Witches do all kinds of crazy things.”

  Sadie elbowed him lightly, to which he responded with a dramatic “Ooof.” She walked past him just as her cell phone rang. She pulled it out of her coat pocket and made a face when she saw it was Jane. She wasn’t in the mood to talk to her right now; Jane was someone Sadie had to gear up for. She pushed the end button and turned around to face Pete. “We should take the boys to a park after Kalan gets out of school,” she said, looking around for something else to think about. “Have you ever been to any of Olmsted’s parks around here?”