Pumpkin Roll

by Josi S. Kilpack

  “A penny for your thoughts?”

  Sadie looked at Jane, who also seemed to be relaxing on their walk.

  “Just admiring the city,” she said.

  Jane looked around. “It is a pretty cool place, isn’t it?”

  “It is. I love the whole feel of it. You said you’ve been here before?”

  “Several times,” Jane said. “I had an aunt who lived in Cambridge. We’d come and visit every summer when I was growing up, and I spent a year out here before I went to college—that’s how I know my way around so well. She’s dead now, though.”

  This was the first time Jane had ever said anything about her childhood. From Shawn’s comments, Sadie knew that it hadn’t been ideal, but she was glad there were some good memories too. “Did you grow up in the East?” she asked, assuming that Jane must not have lived too far away if the family made a yearly visit to Cambridge.

  Jane shoved her hands into her pockets and looked uncomfortable. “Yeah, kinda,” she said, but didn’t elaborate, which led Sadie to wonder if she’d suddenly remembered the less pleasant parts. Sadie had no desire to dredge up hurtful memories so she started talking about the first time she’d been here with Breanna and Shawn. Jane listened politely, and Sadie could only hope she enjoyed the trek down memory lane as much as Sadie did.

  Before she knew it, however, she’d run out of story, and Jane was pointing across the street at a green awning over a bricked colonial building that had only somewhat been restored so as to keep the Victorian feel. They looked both ways but still got honked at as they ran across the street, stopping at the simple wrought iron sign that said Bastian Gallery mounted beside the beveled glass front door. It was the kind of place someone had to know they were going to if they hoped to find it, as it could be easily lost amid the splashier facades and brighter signage of neighboring businesses.

  “Let’s find a way to the back,” Jane suggested. Sadie nodded and headed left until they found a narrow walkway between the buildings. It was dark and the fog meant they couldn’t see what was at the end of the alley.

  “I’m glad it’s daylight,” she said as she followed Jane through the fog. The buildings were so tall and the walkway so narrow that despite never having felt claustrophobic in her life, Sadie nearly ran into Jane’s back as her feet seemed to unconsciously speed up. She breathed a lot better when they emerged into the space behind the buildings. She looked down the staggered brick store backs, a mix-matched hodgepodge of different types of brick and stone, accessorized by overgrown weeds and electrical lines as well as a Dumpster every thirty yards or so. Curb appeal was certainly not a consideration for the back lot.

  “Green awning,” Jane said, pointing to their left. “Same as the front, that’s got to be it.”

  “But we’re not going in,” Sadie said. The fog made the back lot feel isolated despite the sound of traffic all around them.

  “I know,” Jane agreed. “We still need to know the layout. Let’s start there and do a perimeter search in extending grids from the back door.”

  “Okay,” Sadie said, impressed with Jane’s command of the situation while still wondering what they might find.

  “I’ll go left; you go right.”

  “Got it,” Sadie agreed. They approached the door, the solid gray metal stenciled with letters indicating that it was, in fact, Bastian Gallery. They both began searching the ground for . . . whatever they might find. Sadie mostly found crushed glass and oil spots, though there was half a pack of soggy cigarettes and a pop can—diet cherry Dr. Pepper—beside the telephone pole about twenty feet from the door. She picked up the trash and headed toward the Dumpster pushed up against the building.

  “Found something?” Jane asked from her position further down the lot.

  “Just throwing these away,” Sadie said.

  Jane nodded and then continued her search.

  Sadie lifted the lid of the Dumpster in order to throw the items in. When she dropped the lid with a reverberating thump, she noticed a piece of white paper partially under the Dumpster. It was bigger than a business card but smaller than a regular sheet of copy paper. She might as well throw that away too. She bent down and picked it up, giving it a cursory scan as she lifted the Dumpster lid again. She froze when she turned the paper over and saw a very familiar shade of red staring back at her.

  She blinked and, still holding up the lid, took in every detail of the card she now recognized as a paint sample card, the kind Sadie had picked up many a time from her local paint store when looking to redo a room in her home. This particular card was the exact shade of red Sadie had been drenched in at Mrs. Wapple’s yesterday afternoon. A shivery tingle radiated out from her spine, making her fingers holding the card ache a little bit.

  “You okay?”

  Sadie looked up to see Jane approaching and finally recognized the ache in her shoulder from holding up the Dumpster lid. She dropped it, the sound making her jump. She handed the card to Jane, who took it and then turned it over in case she was missing something.

  “That’s the same color of paint from Mrs. Wapple’s house,” Sadie said, realizing Jane hadn’t seen it. “I’d put money on it.”

  “Really?” Jane said, her eyebrows going up. “You’re sure?”

  Sadie nodded and the sick feeling that had bothered her off and on for the last two days came back. She looked at the green awning of Gabrielle’s gallery. Sadie couldn’t wrap her head around the proof that Gabrielle was involved. “I know we came here looking for evidence but . . . I’m shocked to have found this,” she finally said.

  “No kidding,” Jane agreed.

  Sadie looked at the card in Jane’s hand, and her brain kicked into investigative gear. “We should check out local paint stores to verify where she bought it. I bet they have all kinds of records.”

  “She’d be an idiot to buy it locally,” Jane said.

  “Should I call the police?” Sadie asked.

  “I don’t know,” Jane said, looking at Sadie with an expression as close to sympathy as she had ever seen on her face. “Will they find it suspicious that you found the sample?”

  Sadie hadn’t thought of that and hated thinking of it now. “But they already said I’m too short to have attacked her.”

  “That’s what they said,” Jane reiterated. She shook the card. “But this doesn’t prove your innocence, and it’s not strong enough evidence all by itself to get around the automatic suspicion they’ll have about it.”

  “Then why did we come here?” Sadie asked, feeling panic rise in her chest. “If this makes things worse for me”—she waved at the card in Jane’s hand—“what did we hope we’d find?”

  “Hey,” Jane said, putting her hand on Sadie’s arm. “Don’t freak out, this is still a good find. Now we know Gabrielle’s involved. That’s powerful stuff.”

  Sadie took a breath and nodded; Jane was right.

  “Have a little faith in the process, Sadie,” Jane continued, slipping the paint card into her pocket. “We’re adding things up and eventually we’ll have enough to take to the police, but we need to go one step at a time, okay?”

  “Okay,” Sadie said, feeling sheepish for her knee-jerk reaction. “You’re right.”

  The creak of a hinge caught both their attention, and they simultaneously looked up to see the back door to the Bastian Gallery opening toward them. In a split second, they both darted around the side of the Dumpster, pressing their backs against the chipped paint. They looked at one another as they heard the sound of high heels crunch across the gravel. Sadie’s heart was in her throat as she willed whoever was there not to come around the Dumpster. She was more grateful than ever for the fog that made her feel even more hidden.

  Chapter 32

  I know,” they heard a woman say. “I just need to get it out of my car—calm down.” Sadie was all but convinced it was Gabrielle’s voice and could hardly breathe.

  “We’re so totally behind schedule,” said a monotone voice that did n
ot match the urgency his words seemed to reflect. Sadie pegged the voice as belonging to Hansel, the man Sadie had spoken to when she’d called the gallery on Tuesday.

  A little beep of a keyless entry sounded before Gabrielle spoke. “It’s not my fault,” she said. “You know that.” A car door, or maybe the trunk of a car, opened. “I’m doing the very best that I can.”

  “I know,” Hansel continued. “But I hate falling behind.”

  “You and me both,” Gabrielle said. Sadie could hear the fatigue in her voice. “See, it’s right here. We’re good.”

  “Thank goodness,” Hansel said.

  The door or trunk slammed, and Gabrielle’s steps could be heard hurrying back toward the building. A minute later the door hinges creaked closed. Sadie and Jane both remained totally still and silent for at least thirty seconds.

  “She didn’t lock the car,” Jane said, stepping around Sadie and into full view without even checking to see if someone was there. Sadie was more cautious, peering around the side of the Dumpster before daring to come out of hiding completely. By the time she emerged, Jane had almost reached the black Audi parked opposite the gallery’s door. Sadie hurried to catch up, looking around to see if anyone was watching. The back lot wasn’t particularly isolated, but they seemed to be alone at the moment.

  “What did you say?” Sadie asked when she reached Jane, who was appraising the car.

  “She used her keyless entry to unlock the car, but she didn’t lock it back up. I didn’t hear the beep, did you?”

  Sadie thought back, but it was hard to remember since she had been paralyzed with fear. “I don’t remember hearing it,” she admitted.

  “Well, the woman is an idiot to leave her car unlocked in the city. And what’s she doing driving to work anyway when she lives four blocks away?”

  “I don’t think we should break into her car,” Sadie said.

  Jane looked at her, then grabbed the door handle and pulled. In an instant Sadie was reminded of another time she’d done the same thing and set off a car alarm. She closed her eyes and braced herself, but heard nothing. By the time she dared open her eyes, Jane was leaning halfway into the car, rifling through the middle console. Sadie swallowed and looked around, hoping they were still alone. She sidled over to Jane as though maybe she could block her from view if someone showed up.

  “Her car is immaculate,” Jane said, standing and going to the back doors. “But if I’d hauled paint and played some elaborate hoax on someone, I’d get my car detailed too.”

  There was nothing in the backseat, Sadie could see that, and Jane didn’t waste much time on it. Sadie felt like her head was about to explode from her growing anxiety. Jane shut the back door and popped the trunk before shutting the driver’s door.

  “What a jerk,” Jane said.

  Sadie joined Jane by the trunk and saw a black duffel bag sitting inside. Jane had unzipped the bag and was sifting through the contents, which seemed to be an eclectic collection of clothing. “How much do you want to bet this is a bag she’s packed for her sister and not taken to the hospital yet.”

  Sadie shook her head. The clothes certainly weren’t Gabrielle’s.

  “Hey,” Jane suddenly said, her hand stopping in the bag. She withdrew a small round container, like something face powder would be held in. She lifted it up for Sadie to see, and as soon as Sadie recognized what it was, she straightened.

  “Stage makeup?” she asked.

  “I guess,” Jane said, turning it in her fingers. “I wonder what it’s for.”

  “I know exactly what it’s for,” Sadie said, glancing at the gallery door. “The face Pete and I saw in the window. It was white—ghostly.”

  “Ah,” Jane said, tossing the container into the air and catching it with a satisfied grin on her face. “Strike two for Ms. Art Gallery director.”

  “What’s it doing in Mrs. Wapple’s bag, though?” Sadie asked. “Seems like a strange hiding place.”

  “Except who would think to search the bag she’s taking to her sister in the hospital?”

  “Why not just throw it away?” Sadie said. She’d never quite understood why people kept evidence around.

  “Maybe she secretly wants to get caught.”

  A car drove into the lot, and Sadie and Jane both instinctively ducked their heads. The car moved a good hundred yards down the lot before stopping. The driver quickly got out and disappeared through the back door of one of the other shops without looking their way.

  “We need to get out of here,” Sadie said. She hurried away from the car, and Jane joined her, but a few steps later, when they had almost reached the Dumpster again, she realized she hadn’t heard the trunk close. She looked back to see that it was still open, like a giant maw on a sleek black beast. “Shouldn’t we close that?” she asked.

  “What for?” Jane challenged, taking the lead, which Sadie followed. “Why not give her something to figure out for a change?” She smiled at Sadie as she reached the walkway that would take them back to the T.

  Sadie didn’t argue, but she didn’t like the idea of playing games. Still, she wasn’t about to go back and shut it herself. As they crossed Newbury Street and continued toward the Back Bay station, Sadie imagined Gabrielle’s reaction when she came outside and found the trunk open.

  “Did you keep the makeup?” Sadie asked, her breath coming in short bursts due to the Jane’s quick pace. Jane reached into her pocket and pulled out the container just enough for Sadie to see.

  “I only wish we could see the expression on her face when she realizes it’s gone,” Jane said with a grin. They reached the stairs leading to the T station, and Jane returned the makeup to her pocket. They kept up the pace until they were sitting on the train heading back to Forest Hills. Sadie looked at her watch. It was 3:30.

  “Mr. Forsberk will be home in an hour,” Sadie said, moving ahead. “I think he’s still worth looking into, even if things are pointing to Gabrielle right now. We’ll just have to keep it short so I don’t miss my appointment at the police station.”

  “Sure,” Jane said with a nod. “I’m cool with that.”

  “And,” Sadie said, her stomach tightening again, “I need to talk to Pete’s daughter-in-law, assuming she’s at the house. She’s had time to settle in, and it’s only going to get harder if I avoid the inevitable.”

  Chapter 33

  It still amazed Sadie how fast the T moved. They were back at the Forest Hills station within twenty minutes. Both she and Jane had parked their cars there, and they were discussing whether to drive together and leave one car at the lot, or drive separately when Sadie’s phone rang. She dug it out of her purse, wondering if it was Pete, or maybe Grace from Wick’d Which. Her heart nearly skipped a beat when she saw that it was Gabrielle.

  “What?” Jane said, turning to face Sadie while people streamed past them.

  “It’s Gabrielle,” Sadie said as the phone rang for a third time. She considered not answering, but only for a moment. Sadie swallowed and answered the phone before the call went to voice mail. “This is Sadie,” she said carefully.

  Jane folded her arms over her chest, her already sharp features even edgier with the stern expression on her face.

  “It’s Gabrielle. I need to talk to you.”

  Sadie’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, and she looked at Jane. Did Gabrielle know they’d been in the car? Or was she calling about something else? “Okay,” Sadie said. “When? Now?”

  “Not now,” Gabrielle said as though Sadie should know that. “I have a reception in three hours that I have spent months preparing for and am now scrambling to make work.”

  “I’m sorry,” Sadie said, and she was. “Can I help?” It was an automatic offer for Sadie; she always helped.

  “Not hardly,” Gabrielle said. “There’s a café on Belvidere, or just off it, called Germaine’s. Meet me there at nine thirty.”

  “Nine thirty?” Sadie repeated, scrambling in her purse for paper and a pen as Gabriel
le rattled off the directions to the café. She found a receipt and bent over to use her thigh as a writing surface as she scribbled down the time and the directions. “It’s called Germaine’s?”