Pumpkin Roll

by Josi S. Kilpack

  “And the Pad Thai,” Jane said. “Have you had that before?”

  Sadie shook her head. “I haven’t, but I’m willing to give it a try. I admit I don’t make a lot of ethnic dishes. They require so many special spices and pastes I usually don’t have on hand.”

  The waitress came relatively quickly and they both ordered the Bo-Bo soup and Pad Thai, then updated each other on their respective tasks. Sadie didn’t know how to confess to having gone to a metaphysical store so she left it out for now.

  “So nothing groundbreaking from the landlord?”

  Sadie shook her head. “No. He was a very nice guy, though.”

  Jane rolled her eyes. “Well, that’s helpful.”

  Sadie chose not to take that as an insult. “It’s too bad you couldn’t talk to the girl from Radio Shack.”

  Jane shrugged. “Yeah, but those are the breaks, right? I put another call in to the reporter who wrote the article. I don’t like being ignored.”

  “Hopefully he’ll call soon,” Sadie said. The soup was delicious, an amazing blend of texture and flavors that Sadie couldn’t immediately identify. The Pad Thai came just as they were sipping the last of the soup and was also delicious—the noodles cooked to chewy perfection, and the tangy spices just right. Sadie might be able to come up with a recipe for this one. She wondered if Pete liked Thai and would be up for experimentation. A quick glance at her phone informed her that he’d been at the police station two hours now. She hoped he was okay.

  They were both halfway through their meals before Jane asked, “So, what’s in the bag?”

  Sadie looked at the red plastic bag she’d tried to tuck into her purse. The length of the smudge stick made it impossible to hide completely, however. For some reason she hadn’t expected Jane to notice, which she realized was kind of ridiculous. That Jane had noticed, however, meant Sadie had to come clean. “I, uh, went to a mystical store to ask about ghosts and things, and I ended up buying a smudge stick.”

  “Serious?” Jane said, leaning over and grabbing Sadie’s purse without even asking. She pulled the bag out and quickly removed the smudge stick, grinning widely. She gave Sadie a knowing look. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to leave that alone. So, you’re seeing it, aren’t you?”

  “Seeing what?” Sadie asked, twirling another forkful of noodles on her plate.

  “Everything you guys have experienced and tried to blow off, it’s totally on point with what I was telling you last night, right?”

  “Well, some of it,” Sadie said, meeting Jane’s eyes. “But not everything. The gal at the store said voices aren’t common and neither is cold mist. And why would ghosts unlock doors?”

  Jane’s smile fell. “They could unlock the doors just to throw you off.”

  “Why bother throwing us off when we don’t know what we’re looking for?”

  Jane blinked, then went back to her plate, cutting another bite while Sadie kept explaining. She talked about how Grace was going to look into the articles by Tim Wapple and get back to her. “She could see the possibility that someone was trying to make it look like ghosts but hadn’t done their homework.”

  “Huh,” Jane said, after chewing and swallowing another bite. “That’s really surprising. When I researched ghost phenomena, all of those things were there—symptoms, if you will.”

  “Which might go back to the fact that anything can be put online.” Sadie didn’t want to be too discouraging since Jane seemed to take the conflicting information hard. “Anyway, it was educational, and Grace was very nice so it wasn’t a wasted trip—quite the opposite. I think we can put the ghost possibility to bed completely now and move on to the next item on our list.”

  “Gabrielle,” Jane said.

  Sadie hadn’t actually gotten far enough to decide what to do next, but Gabrielle was an area they hadn’t fully explored. “It’s probably time,” she said. “I just don’t know what to do or where to start with her. I’ve researched her to the hilt and there’s nothing that stands out. Of course you have access to different information than I do, so maybe I missed something.” That seemed to cheer up Jane, and some of her arrogance returned.

  “Everyone is hiding something,” Jane assured her.

  “And I believe one of the things Gabrielle is hiding is her sister.”

  “Interesting,” Jane said, nodding. “I bet hiding the sister is part of something bigger, though. Maybe she lied to her friends about where she came from, or maybe she reached her social status using scandalous means that, should they be discovered, would ruin what she’s worked for. Maybe hurting her sister was a way to keep her quiet about something else.”

  Sadie hadn’t thought of any of that. “It seems risky. She’s certainly been contacted by the police, and her inattentiveness would be a huge red flag to them. She could lose everything. And while the paint spill was certainly interesting, it was rather elementary too, like it was more to freak me out than to get the police’s attention.”

  Jane looked at her plate while she cut a bite. “Unless she thought you might discover Mrs. Wapple but not go to the police. The paint would make it hard for you to pretend you hadn’t been there.”

  Sadie considered that and shook her head. “It still seems weak and not all that inventive.”

  “Or we just don’t understand the real reason. I think Mrs. Wapple had information Gabrielle would stop at nothing to protect.”

  “Maybe,” Sadie said, resting her fork on the side of her plate. “But I can think of a dozen ways to silence someone completely without leaving any evidence behind.”

  “A dozen ways?” Jane said, her eyebrow raised and a smile on her lips.

  Sadie blushed. “Not that I would ever use them. I’m just saying that if she wanted to silence her sister, why not silence her?” She felt horrible talking this way; it felt so dark and twisted. “Anyway, things just don’t line up.”

  “Which means we must be missing vital pieces of information that would make things come together. Didn’t you say that Gabrielle has a party at her gallery tonight?”

  Sadie nodded. “She’s made a big deal about it on more than one occasion; she’s really stressed about it.” Which, again, made it even harder to imagine that she’d hurt her sister at such an intense time. But, like Jane had said, if Mrs. Wapple knew something detrimental enough about her sister, none of that might matter. And, if Gabrielle were psychopathic, making sense of everything was a waste of time. That thought, however, invited a truly sick one to grab hold of Sadie’s insides. Had Sadie’s continued questions and prodding somehow influenced the attack on Mrs. Wapple? She put her fork down as her appetite left her completely.

  “What?” Jane asked, watching her reaction.

  “Nothing,” Sadie said, unable to vocalize the possibility she could be to blame for what had happened. “This is just . . . hard, ya know? I hate to see such sad things up close. I really hope Gabrielle didn’t hurt her sister.”

  “But if she did, we can be part of the solution, right?”

  Sadie had to acknowledge that possibility.

  “Right,” Jane confirmed. “So Gabrielle’s crazy busy today. We should go to her house.”

  “She’s not there,” Sadie said. “I’m sure she’ll be at the gallery or the hospital all day.”

  Jane pointed her fork at Sadie. “Precisely,” she said with a cocky grin. “What better time to have a look around than while she’s so wonderfully distracted?”

  “You mean break in?” Sadie shook her head. “We can’t do that.”

  “Sure we can. You and me got skills, girlfriend. We can get inside in ten seconds flat. You brought your pick set, right?”

  Actually, Sadie had invested in a pick gun, an electronic device that did all the pressing and poking for you. It was ingenious and so fast and easy to use that it made an ideal item to keep in her purse. At home, however, she still preferred the hands-on lock picks when she was practicing with her growing collection of locks. “I didn’t mean we ca
n’t physically accomplish it. We can’t break in; it’s illegal.”

  “So is stabbing your sister.”

  “Which we don’t know she did.”

  “But could find out if we got into her apartment.”

  Sadie could see her point, but she couldn’t get past the breaking and entering part. “No,” she said, shaking her head. “I won’t break the law.”

  Jane let out a breath and stuffed a too-big bite into her mouth; chewing it caused her whole face to move. When she finally swallowed, she’d apparently worked out her frustration. “Fine,” she said. “We can at least poke around outside, right?”

  “She lives on Hemenway Street, probably in a multi-residence brownstone. I don’t know what we’ll find since that area is so densely populated.”

  “We can poke around outside the gallery too,” Jane said, looking up at Sadie for the first time in the last several seconds. “I mean, we’ve got to do something.”

  Sadie didn’t like feeling so prudish so she nodded even though the chances of finding something outside either Gabrielle’s house or her studio seemed like a long shot. But this angle did need to be maximized. “Can you also do a search on her? See if you can find what I couldn’t.”

  “Of course,” Jane said, smiling again. “I’m happy to work my magic for you.”

  Chapter 31

  They decided to take the T into Boston and were waiting in the Forest Hills station when Sadie’s phone rang. It was an unfamiliar number.

  “Hello?”

  “Mrs. Hoffmiller,” a familiar voice said. “This is Detective Lucille. We spoke yesterday at the JP police department.”

  “Oh, yes,” Sadie said as a tremor washed through her. “What can I do for you?” She stepped away from Jane and the dozen other people waiting for the train so that she could have both some privacy and noise control. She plugged her other ear to better hear the detective and hoped that the noises of the station weren’t too loud.

  “Well, I’m mostly calling with an update,” the detective said. “I thought it would be a courtesy for me to tell you that we’ve all but ruled you out as a suspect.”

  “Really?” Sadie said. “Gosh, that’s a relief.”

  “I’m sure it is. Based on Mrs. Wapple’s injuries and certain other details from the scene, we’ve determined that the attacker was taller than you and, likely, stronger.”

  Sadie had never been more grateful to be short and wimpy, though she silently reminded herself that she was stronger than she looked. “I’m very glad to hear that,” she said. A mental picture of Mr. Forsberk popped into her mind. He was tall and while he didn’t look particularly muscular, she couldn’t say for sure. The next person she thought of, however, was Pete. Apparently she wasn’t alone in thinking of him.

  “We’ve been speaking with Peter Cunningham this afternoon,” Detective Lucille continued. “And I’d like to ask you some questions about him.”

  “Oh,” Sadie said rather flatly. “Um, of course. When would be a good time?”

  “Late afternoon—perhaps around five thirty? I should be ready for you by then.”

  That would still give her time to meet up with Mr. Forsberk. “I can do that,” she said, though her stomach was wriggling with instant anxiety. Was she going to tell them everything she’d discovered? She didn’t feel ready, but she knew she wouldn’t lie about things either.

  “We’ll expect you at the station at five thirty, then,” Detective Lucille said.

  “Sure,” Sadie said. They ended the call, and Sadie hung up, the sick feeling in her stomach growing stronger even as she told herself that since she had nothing to hide, there was nothing for her to be afraid of.

  “What was that all about?” Jane asked from right behind Sadie, causing Sadie to jump and turn at the same time.

  “Oh, it was the detective,” Sadie said. “Apparently, they’ve determined whoever attacked Mrs. Wapple was taller than I am. I guess I’m off the hook.” She smiled, showing the relief she felt so strongly despite the concern of meeting with the detective.

  “Awesome,” Jane said. The train approached with a hiss, and Sadie put her phone back in her purse as they headed toward the platform.

  “Yeah,” Sadie agreed as she lined up behind Jane and the other passengers. “And they don’t want to meet with me until five thirty so we don’t have to adjust our schedule.”

  “They still want to talk to you?” Jane asked, looking over her shoulder as the train lumbered to a stop and the line of passengers tightened even more.

  “Yeah,” Sadie said, trying to sound casual; she didn’t want to give away Pete’s role in this. “Just to verify some details.”

  Her phone rang again, and she hurried to answer it.

  “Sadie,” Gayle said after Sadie said hello. “Sorry it took me so long to get back to you.”

  “No problem,” Sadie said, bringing to mind why she’d called Gayle in the first place. Oh, yeah, the dog whistle. “This is actually perfect timing,” she said as she followed Jane into the train car.

  The call cut off twice while they were on the train, but Gayle called back both times and was able to confirm Sadie’s suspicions: dog whistles could be set to such a high pitch that they were undetectable by humans but painful to dogs. “Darrin said he was at a dog show where someone in the stands had one—they never found out who—but they had to cancel the show. All those dogs—highly trained dogs, mind you—were howling and running around. The next year they had metal detectors at the entrance. The whistles can be really dangerous.”

  “That’s what I thought,” Sadie said, picturing the dog magazine at Mrs. Wapple’s house. Had she seen anything else? “Thank you so much for doing the research for me.”

  “No problem,” Gayle said. “Everything okay?”

  Sadie sighed. What a question. “I think it will be,” she finally said, wishing she was more confident than she felt. “I’ll call tomorrow with more details, okay?”

  “Sure thing, sweetie. You hang in there, okay? And let me know if you need anything.”

  Sadie thanked her and hung up to find Jane staring at her. She quickly recounted the phone call. “I could have looked up the whistles for you,” Jane said when Sadie finished. “You don’t have to ask other people to help you, that’s what I’m here for.”

  “I know,” Sadie said with a smile, feeling bad that she still didn’t trust Jane completely. “But you already had a list of things to do, and I didn’t want to put too much on your plate. As for Gayle, I called her before you even showed up.”

  “But I’d already offered my help.”

  That was true. “Sorry,” Sadie said. “I guess I’m just not used to having a partner.”

  “Huh,” Jane said, but she still seemed a little miffed. Sadie was too tired to explain herself again and leaned back against the seat. A teenage boy with earbuds was head-bopping to a song, and a teenage girl further down the car was sneaking glances at him every few seconds while two old women twittered in Chinese a few seats past that. Things were funneling together, Sadie could feel it, but she didn’t know how the pieces fit together just yet. It was both exciting and anxiety producing.

  I’ll figure it out, though, she told herself, boosting her confidence. I will figure it out.

  She had to.

  When they exited the Back Bay station, Sadie blinked a few times, but it didn’t clear away the gauzy shroud in the air. “Fog,” she said, surprised since it hadn’t been foggy in Jamaica Plain.

  “Advection,” Jane answered, shoving her hands into her pockets as they started walking.

  “Advection?” Sadie repeated. “What does that mean?”

  “The cold temperatures from the water mix with warming temperatures on land and create a fog. I was here one summer when it happened in August. Totally weird phenomenon. They were talking about it on the news this morning—said it would come through in time for the afternoon commute. Nice.”

  “It’s kind of pretty,” Sadie said. It block
ed out the long-range views of the city, but gave an almost romantic tinge to everything else.

  They went to Gabrielle’s house first and, as Sadie suspected, there was little to see. It wasn’t garbage day, and the houses had porches instead of yards. Gabrielle was on the middle floor of a triple-decker brownstone squished between an entire street’s worth of triple-decker brownstones. They were able to chat with the neighbor who lived on the street level of Gabrielle’s building, but she had only ever exchanged pleasantries in the hallway with her.

  Jane was undeterred by their lack of success, and they immediately headed for the gallery on Newbury Street. Despite the fog, it wasn’t terribly cold like it had been the last few days. Sadie took in the cozy feel of the city, nodded to people who didn’t nod back—this was the East Coast, she reminded herself—and took in the changing leaves, the autumn wreaths on many a door, and the overall feel of downtown Boston. Though Sadie had never been a big city dweller, she could imagine herself living in a place with so much personality and history. Maybe if her kids didn’t come back to Garrison—a possibility that continued growing all the time—she’d look into relocating to a place like this. Then again, she’d never been to Boston in the wintertime. She should make sure to do that before she made any definite decisions.