Town in a Pumpkin Bash

by B. B. Haywood

  Candy thought about it a moment, and finally shook her head. “I don’t think either of us is ready to make a public statement right now. We’ve both talked to the police about what happened, and we’ll let them handle everything from here on out.”

  “The chief just told us to keep our noses out of it,” Maggie confirmed.

  “Can I quote you on that?”

  Maggie paused a moment, caught off guard. When, tight-lipped, she looked to her friend for help in formulating a response, Candy said diplomatically, “The police are handling the matter. It’d probably be best if you talked to them.”

  Olivia pressed on, undeterred. “Well, then, can you tell me the condition of the body when you found it? Was it—”

  But she was interrupted by the sound of a deep beeping horn, which came from the direction of the parking lot.

  They all turned and watched as a multicolored minibus, filled with passengers, jounced across the grassy parking lot, wending its way through all the other parked cars, before it came to an abrupt stop at the edge of the pumpkin patch, not far from where Candy had parked her Jeep.

  After a few moments, the door flew open, and they heard a voice coming over the bus’s intercom system.

  “This is stop number four on this morning’s tour, the site of two deaths, including one currently being investigated. We’ll be here for fifteen minutes, so you’ll have enough time to look around before we continue our Halloween Mystery Tour. I’ll be answering questions and conducting a brief tour, for those of you who are interested. And I have several booklets for sale. Now, if you’ll all follow me out the door…”

  A few moments later, Wanda Boyle, regaled in a retro-tourist-guide outfit in shades of turquoise and orange, stepped off the bus, followed by nearly a dozen passengers.

  TWENTY

  Their mouths agape, Candy and Maggie both watched Wanda, first in surprise, then in growing exasperation, their expressions darkening as the reality of what they were seeing sunk in.

  “What the heck is she doing here?” Maggie asked, her voice dropping to a low growl. “And what is she wearing?”

  “I don’t know, but I don’t like the looks of it.”

  “Me neither. Those colors do not flatter her. Who does she think she is, anyway?”

  “I think,” Candy said, “that she thinks she’s a tour guide, and she’s trying to hone in on our territory.”

  “She can’t do that, can she? What is she up to?” Maggie was starting to fume.

  “I don’t know,” Candy said adamantly, “but I’m going to find out right now.”

  Before she headed off, though, she turned to her friend. “Listen, while I’m on diplomatic duty trying to deal with Wanda, maybe you should open the farm stand, so we can get things moving along? You know, like the chief said?”

  Maggie nodded, and cast one last glare toward Wanda, for good measure. “Good idea. We don’t want to gang up on her, do we? Maybe you should handle this one alone.” She patted Candy on the shoulder, for moral support. “Good luck!” And off she went, her mood brightening noticeably as she waved and called out to a few customers who were already lining up at the farm stand, pumpkins in hand.

  “Thanks,” Candy said under her breath, “I think.”

  She turned to Olivia, who had been listening with great interest to their exchange. “You’ll have to excuse me a minute,” Candy told the reporter, “but I have some pressing business to attend to.”

  “Friend of yours?” Olivia asked, nodding toward Wanda.

  “Not exactly.”

  And doing her best to keep her emotions under control, Candy headed across the field toward the minibus to finally face her rival.

  Wanda stood at the center of a small group of passengers who had gathered around her, chattering like a flock of hungry birds in their excitement. But despite her practiced smiles and twitters of delight, Wanda seemed distracted. Candy noticed that her gaze kept shifting away from her admirers, out through the field, past the tractor and the hay wagon, to the line of police officers stationed along the boundary between Low and High Fields. And then to Chief Durr, who was talking to someone who looked like he was from the forensics team, before finally shifting right, toward the farm stand, and catching sight of Candy herself.

  In that moment Wanda’s demeanor abruptly changed, and her expression turned inscrutable. The smile was gone from the expansive face, and she watched Candy approach with dark, unblinking eyes.

  Candy stopped several paces from the small crowd of admirers and crossed her arms. “Wanda, I wonder if I might have a word?”

  At first Wanda gave no reply. She simply studied Candy imperiously, her mouth a tight line. Finally, however, she said a few words to the folks around her, and then took a few steps toward Candy, so they could talk in relative privacy.

  “Well, well, look who stopped by to say hello,” Wanda said evenly. “I thought you were ignoring me.”

  Candy gave her a tight smile of acknowledgement. “I’ve been busy, Wanda. So, what did you want to talk to me about? Why all the messages?”

  “I’m glad you asked, because I wanted to tell you all about my latest entrepreneurial venture.” She motioned toward the minibus and the cadre of passengers. “I call it the Halloween Mystery Tour. I think it’s my cleverest enterprise yet.” She handed Candy a flyer from a stack she was holding in her hand. “Your little haunted hayride through the pumpkin patch here was a cute idea, but it was just small potatoes. This town deserves something better, so I decided to step in with something more upscale.” She indicated the minibus. “I offer all the comforts of home, including soft drinks and snacks. I even have climate control in that thing. The customers love it.”

  “And when did all this happen?” Candy asked, trying hard to hide the fact that she was impressed by Wanda’s latest endeavor.

  “Funny you should ask. This is my inaugural tour this morning, but I’m planning on continuing it right through Halloween night, and maybe even for the next couple of weekends, depending on the feedback I get from customers.”

  “And just where are you taking your customers on this ‘mystery tour’ of yours?” Candy wondered.

  Wanda indicated the flyer with a be-ringed pinky. “It’s all right there. Plus there’s a press release on my website. You might want to check it out, just to make sure you get all the facts straight when you write about my new operation in your next column.”

  Candy closed her eyes, shook her head, and let out a breath. “Okay, Wanda, I’ll write something up about it. Anything else?”

  Wanda gave her a smug look. “No, that’s about it. I’ve already talked to the chief this morning, so I’m up to date with all the official stuff. And I don’t suppose I’d get much out of you if I interviewed you about the most recent murder in town, would I?”

  “Probably not,” Candy admitted honestly. “Maggie and I have made our statements to the police, and we’re letting them handle everything from here on.”

  “There! You see! I could have predicted that response in my sleep.” Wanda’s gaze narrowed. “Though I must admit, I am surprised to find you at the center of another mystery in town. How do you do it? How do you always manage to turn the spotlight of fame on yourself when these terrible little deeds happen in our town?”

  “It’s not something I ask for,” Candy said a little heatedly, as she tried to tamp down her anger. Then another thought came to her. “Is that why you’re here this morning?” Candy asked, looking around at the bus and the passengers. “Are we part of your tour now?”

  Wanda gave her a curious look. “You mean you don’t know?”

  Something in Wanda’s voice made Candy stiffen, and she felt a chill. “Don’t know what?”

  Wanda chuckled genuinely and pointed again at the flyer. “I suggest you read that. And if I were you, I’d take my tour. You just might learn a thing or two, Candy Holliday. I might even give you a discount.”

  She flashed a wicked grin at Candy, turned smartly, he
r red hair flying, and sauntered back to her customers.

  Candy’s brow fell together.

  What the heck was Wanda talking about?

  She looked down at the flyer she held in her hand.

  WANDA BOYLE’S HALLOWEEN MYSTERY TOUR, it read across the top. Presented by your host and narrator, Wanda Boyle.

  Underneath that was some bio information about Wanda and details about her website and blog, and following that, a paragraph about some of the mysteries, past and current, that plagued the little coastal town of Cape Willington, Maine. It talked about departed sea captains, and pirates, and ghosts in lighthouses, and apparitions of young Victorian-age women. And it mentioned some of the local murders, including one that had occurred at the Pruitt Opera House in 1911, and another down near the docks in the late 1940s, as well as a series of strange murders in the 1980s and early nineties.

  Following that information was the tour route, which hit eight “hot” spots around town, including the Pruitt Opera House, the lighthouse and historical society, Town Cemetery, the houses once owned by James Sedley and Wilma Mae Wendell, out to the pumpkin patch, and finally a stop at Sapphire Vine’s house—a true haunted house! the flyer declared, and the scene of one of Cape Willington’s most brutal murders!

  But it was the paragraph describing the mysteries at the pumpkin patch that caught Candy’s eye:

  Gumm’s Pumpkin Patch, it read. Site of two deaths, twenty years apart. This week, the body of renowned poet Sebastian J. Quinn was found buried beneath a pile of pumpkins in the area known as High Field. Police are currently investigating that death, which has been unofficially ruled a homicide. And two decades earlier, the body of a mysterious young woman was discovered in nearly the exact same spot. The death was ruled suspicious, and the woman was never identified. Records list her only as Jane Doe. At the time of this writing, neither mystery has been solved.

  TWENTY-ONE

  Two deaths. Right here in this pumpkin patch.

  So Sebastian wasn’t the first to die here.

  Candy sucked in a breath of surprise. Could that have any significance? she wondered. That there was another death here, in this same spot, twenty years ago?

  Again, she read over the flyer’s description of the mysterious death, but details were scant: The woman was never identified, it said. Records list her only as Jane Doe.

  Candy had never heard anything about this second death—obviously a cold case of some sort.

  But where, she wondered, had Wanda gotten her information?

  Was it even true?

  By the time she looked up, Wanda had moved on. Candy caught sight of her wandering up through the pumpkin patch, greeting the early-morning customers and handing out flyers as she went.

  She’s drumming up business, Candy thought, right here in our pumpkin patch, right under our noses.

  Her anger swelled again, and she was tempted to follow Wanda, to give her a piece of her mind—and to ask more about the woman who had allegedly died here twenty years earlier. But Maggie called out to her then, needing help with customers and unloading the boxes from the Jeep, so Candy dashed over to the farm stand, where she dealt with a burgeoning group of people, and then finished unloading the Jeep, so they could finish setting up the farm stand.

  When she looked up again twenty minutes later, Wanda and her minibus were gone. So were Chief Durr and Olivia March, though a few policemen remained behind to turn curious onlookers away from High Field.

  The next few hours flew by, and Wanda’s minibus came and went several times, bringing along new waves of customers. And since those were the busiest times at the farm stand, Candy never had a chance to break away to talk to Wanda again.

  In midmorning the sun finally broke through the thin haze of clouds, drying out the pumpkin patch and warming all those who had come out to enjoy one of the last beautiful fall days before winter set in. The cash box on the shelf behind the farm stand’s counter filled with bills as Candy and Maggie sold dozens and dozens of pumpkins, as well as most of the other items they’d brought. And the crowds left happy.

  Doc and the boys arrived around eleven, bringing with them a large thermos of coffee and a box of doughnuts, courtesy of Juanita, and stayed to help out with the customers. A little later on, around twelve thirty, Bumpy and Artie called in a lunch order to the diner for all of them, and ran out to pick it up.

  Candy and Maggie both were glad to see the crowds dwindle in the early afternoon, although smaller waves continued to arrive every hour or so with Wanda’s bus tour. The woman certainly knows how to hustle for a buck, Candy thought as she watched Wanda shepherding around her brightly colored flocks. And as much as I hate to admit it, she’s also helping our business.

  That at least made Wanda’s actions a little easier to take, and Candy did her best to put her personal feelings aside for the moment—especially since she still had questions that needed answers.

  Right after lunch she finally managed to snag Wanda, who was walking past the farm stand, handing out flyers. But when Candy pulled her aside to ask about the unidentified woman found dead in the pumpkin patch twenty years earlier, Wanda just waved the inquiry away. “It’s in the book,” she said, pointing back to the van. “I’ve been selling them, by the way. I got a deal with the author.”

  “And who is that?”

  “That Seabury guy.”

  Candy knew exactly who she was talking about—Julius Seabury, a retired businessman who had written several volumes of local history, which he self-published and sold through area bookstores and the town’s historical society.

  Candy had to swallow her pride to get out the next question. “Can I get a copy from you?”

  Wanda shrugged her wide shoulders. “Sold the last one an hour ago.”

  Candy let it go. It didn’t matter. Doc had several copies of Seabury’s books back at the house, many of them signed by the author, and there might even be a few copies sitting on the dusty shelves in Ben’s office at the newspaper. As soon as she had a chance this afternoon, she’d locate a copy and start digging through it.

  But a little while later, she had a better idea. She’d go right to the source.

  Her opportunity came just before two o’clock in the afternoon. Doc approached her as she was looking out over the field, noticing how much the piles of pumpkins had dwindled. She felt suddenly melancholy at the sight, knowing that after all the work they’d put into this place over the past few months, it was finally coming to an end, in a matter of days. Still, they’d done what they’d set out to do, and they’d made a success of it.

  Doc told her as much. “You and Maggie did a great job with this place,” he said, pulling off his ball cap and wiping his brow with the sleeve of his flannel shirt. “You both should be proud of yourselves.”

  Candy gave him a smile and put a hand on his shoulder. “We had lots of help. Thanks for coming out today and bringing the boys.”

  “Ahh, we figured you’d need some backup, after everything that’s happened. Speaking of which—I’ve talked it over with the guys, and we all agree that we should give you and Maggie the rest of the day off. You two deserve it. We’ll keep an eye on the place for you. So, you know, plop yourselves down somewhere, have a glass of wine, and take a breather.”

  She leaned forward suddenly and gave him a hug. “Thanks, Dad. That would be wonderful.”

  He nodded happily and pointed out to the field. “You’ve sure sold a lot of pumpkins today. It should be a great Pumpkin Bash this year.”

  “It certainly should,” Candy said. “I imagine it’s going to be memorable in more ways than one.”

  TWENTY-TWO

  She managed to catch Julius Seabury at the Cape Willington Historical Society, which was located in the Keeper’s Quarters out at English Point Lighthouse. She’d remembered that he often gave impromptu tours of the historical society’s museum on Sunday afternoons, and used the opportunity to sell some of his books, which he signed with a flourish and a wi
nk of the eye.

  Candy caught him between tours as he was explaining a diorama of the lighthouse property to a young boy, who watched and listened, mesmerized, as Julius explained how the property had changed over the years from a small wooden outpost with a whale oil light to the present-day complex, which included several buildings and a prized Fresnel lens atop the nearly ninety-foot tower.

  When he’d finished, sending the excited young boy off with his parents, Candy approached Julius with a wave and a smile.

  “Mr. Seabury,” she said, holding out her hand. “It’s Candy Holliday, from the Cape Crier. Good to see you again.”

  “Why, Candy, hello, this is a pleasure!” Julius said, taking her hand in both of his and giving it a warm shake. He was in his late seventies, with thinning white hair and a grandfatherly face. He wore a pressed shirt under a gray cardigan with forest green corduroys. “Nice to see you again too. How’s Doc doing?”

  “Great, thanks. I just left him.”

  “Well, give him my best when you see him. Is he still working on his book?”

  “Still working on it. I think he enjoys the research more than the writing though.”

  Julius laughed. “Ahh, I can certainly understand that!” he said, eyes twinkling.

  “And to be honest,” Candy continued, “he hasn’t had much time to devote to his writing projects lately, with all the work we’ve had out at the farm and at the pumpkin patch. He’s out there this afternoon, at the patch, helping out and giving me a breather.”

  Julius’s expression turned solemn. “Yes, I heard what happened out there yesterday. It’s truly a dreadful occurrence. Truly dreadful. I’m sorry it happened, and that you had to find the body that way. I hope it wasn’t too traumatic for you.”

  “No, we’ve…we’ve been able to manage it okay. But that’s the main reason I came out here to see you today. I’d like to ask you a few questions, if that’s okay? And maybe show you an old photograph and see if you recognize it?”