The Pumpkin Killer: A Bakery Detectives Cozy Mystery

by Stacey Alabaster

  "Don't you have something else to apologize for?" Kenneth asked.

  I looked at him and saw the disappointment on his face. "Yes," I said quietly. "I'm sorry for still not trusting you. But you've got to understand, some person really did kill Oscar Malone. And he WAS your business partner, remember?" I asked, waving my hand around the table. "And if you're in the habit of losing money on bad decisions, I can understand why things started to go south between the two of you."

  I could see that not only had I not made the situation any better, I had made it far worse. Kenneth's face was creased in offense. "First of all, I am not in the habit of making bad decisions, Rachael! Making pumpkin-shaped cakes at Halloween is actually a very good decision!"

  "Okay, okay..."

  "Second of all, I've already told you, I wasn't Oscar's business partner. I was thinking of investing in his business, that's it. Thinking of. It went no further than that. I barely knew the guy, in all reality. As far I as know, he had some other person as his business partner."

  I frowned. "Who then? Camille only told us about you?"

  Kenneth threw his hands up in the air. "How should I know? I keep telling you we weren't close, and you keep refusing to believe me."

  "Maybe I should just go," I said.

  "Rachael..."

  Kenneth followed me to the door. I stopped with my hand about to open it. "Look, I really am sorry, okay. Maybe things just weren't meant to work out between us, though."

  Kenneth's eyebrows shot up. "There was an 'us' to work out?"

  I felt my cheeks turning red. "Maybe," I said quietly, searching his blue eyes. Thinking that just a few minutes ago, we'd been close enough to kiss. "But it looks like it's just too complicated, doesn't it?"

  Kenneth stared at me for a moment, then surprised me by bursting out laughing. "It doesn't need to be complicated, Rachael. If I like you and you like me, and I'm not a serial killer..." He gave me a little shrug. "It doesn't sound that complicated."

  My hand dropped away from the door handle. Maybe it could all be easy.

  "Stay for a while," Kenneth said with another little shrug. "Help me think of something to do with all these cakes that no one wants."

  I smiled at him and moved away from the door. "Okay, but only if you've got more coffee. I've been up all night dealing with a screaming newborn."

  After about a half-hour of brainstorming, we'd come up with a plan.

  "I think Pippa is going to love it."

  "I just hope it puts me back in her good graces," Kenneth said. "Well, if I was ever there to begin with."

  I laughed and stood up. "I don't think you were, to be honest."

  Kenneth walked me to the door. "You never told me what happened that night that Pippa gave birth."

  I sighed as I pulled on my coat. "I guess I am kind of embarrassed about it all. About being wrong again." I took a deep breath and told him what I'd seen, about the guy wearing the pumpkin over his head, and about the late night visit to the police station. I failed to mention anything about the history between Jackson and I. That didn't seem relevant right then. Or, maybe it seemed a little too relevant. Maybe that was why I was hiding it.

  "In the end, they arrested him. But he was just some random guy stumbling along the street."

  Kenneth didn't seem surprised about any of this as he hurried to interject. "Yeah, but he wasn't guilty. I mean, he was just some poor innocent guy going to a Halloween party."

  I'd expected him to be shocked by my news. Or at least, surprised. I hadn't expected him to already be two steps ahead of me. My heart slowly sunk. I realized I'd never found out the name of the guy wearing the pumpkin. It wasn't... It wasn't Kenneth, was it?

  "How did you even hear about that?" I asked him. He headed back to the kitchen and opened the fridge, grabbing a beer from the door. "Were...were you the guy?" I asked, feeling my blood go chilly. "The guy wearing the pumpkin over his head?"

  He took the cap off his beer and it popped and fizzed. "I thought we were over that, Rachael."

  I wasn't claiming he was a killer. Not necessarily. I was almost as disturbed, however, that he could have been wearing such a silly costume, been arrested for being drunk, and then not told me about it. After all, he did pretty much have a beer in his hand every time I saw him. "How do you know about all of this then?"

  "Got a friend down at the station," he answered casually as he took a sip. I wondered if it was the same 'friend' I had. I really, really hoped that we didn't have Jackson Whitaker in common as an acquaintance.

  "And what did this friend tell you, then?" I asked.

  Kenneth placed his beer down and shrugged. "Not too much. Just wanted to give me the heads up because I'd been dragged into the whole thing." He shot me a look. "It wasn't just you being suspicious of me, you realize. It's been the cops as well."

  Now I felt really guilty. That couldn't have been good for his business, either. Kenneth had been going through what must have been the toughest time of his life and he'd done it all with easiness and charm, managing to come out of the whole thing with almost no bitterness. "Did your friend tell you the name of the guy who was arrested?" I still wasn't sure it was important, but curious minds did want to know.

  Kenneth nodded and took another sip of beer before answering.

  "Max Carlton."

  I must have turned as white as one of those ghosts that Pippa was always talking about, because Kenneth's face turned to a mixture of horror and concern.

  "Rachael, what is it? You look like you're about to faint. Does that name mean something to you?"

  Chapter 13

  My phone had been buzzing during the entire drive, but I wasn't able to check it until we pulled up in front of my old apartment building. Pippa.

  "Can you pick up another box of diapers? Ran out already. This is a nightmare."

  "I'll be home in an hour," I quickly replied. "Hold tight."

  I shoved my phone back in my coat pocket and stared at the house in front of me with the perfectly manicured flower garden in front.

  "Are you sure about this?" Kenneth asked. I'd never seen him nervous like this before.

  I nodded. "This can't be a coincidence. There's no way it can be. Mrs. Carlton wanted Oscar dead and she used Max Carlton—whoever he is to her—to do it for her."

  "I just meant, are you sure that it should be us confronting her," Kenneth whispered, looking up at the building. "Shouldn't it be the cops?"

  I shook my head. "Believe me. If you want something done right in this town, you've got to do it yourself." I glanced at him and grinned a little. "If you're scared, you can always go home."

  He shook his head. "I'm not scared," he said, opening the door. "Let's go for it." But he walked a little behind me as we went up the path to Mrs. Carlton's door.

  "He must have been trying to make it look like it was a copycat killing," I whispered. "Using the same techniques as the original killer. Even dressing like him. But it wasn't. It was personal."

  Just as I'd always suspected. I couldn't wait to tell Pippa I'd been right all along. I was starting to wish she was there to see it for herself.

  But it wasn't half-bad having Kenneth standing beside me for moral support while I knocked on the door. Mrs. Carlton wasted no time opening the door and glaring at us.

  I didn't bother with any pleasantries.

  "Who is Max?" I asked Mrs. Carlton, taking a step towards her. I was ready to push my way into her home if I had to.

  "You can't just show up on my doorstep like this and demand information from me," she said, alarmed. "I should call the police on you!"

  I saw the look on Kenneth's face. He seemed pleased that the police might get involved, not worried.

  Okay, time to defuse the situation. I changed the tone of my voice, trying to sound sympathetic.

  "Please, Mrs. Carlton, Max might be in serious trouble," I said, noticing the way her face changed from anger to worry. "Please, anything you can tell us will help us find him." />
  "What has he done?" she asked, her face full of sorrow.

  I looked at Kenneth. Bingo. "Is he your son?" Kenneth asked firmly. "Max? Is he your son?"

  "Yes." Mrs. Carlton was shaking. "But I have no idea where he is, really." She stood back and let us into her house. "Please tell me what he has done. What is wrong with him?"

  Kenneth and I exchanged glances. My eyes fell into the coffee table. Mrs. Carlton's library card. "Mrs. Carlton," I said quietly. "Do you mind my asking what your first name is?"

  "Cameron," she said stiffly.

  Kenneth's eyebrows shot up.

  Mrs. Carlton sat down nervously and I sat across from her, trying to hold her gaze evenly while her eyes darted around the room. I couldn't tell whether she was scared, or hiding something.

  "Does Max ever use your library card?" I asked her gently.

  "What?" Mrs. Carlton asked. "No. I'm not sure he even knows I have a library card. That wouldn't be any use to him. He's a young person. I don't even think Max knows where the library is." She managed to let out a small, bitter laugh.

  "Where is Max now?" I asked gently, leaning towards her. "And please don't lie to us. Tell us the truth. Is he in here with you?"

  Mrs. Carlton straightened up and pursed her lips, but there was a lonely look on her face. "He never comes over here," she said sadly. "At least, not to see me."

  She turned her attention to the window, and the apartment building standing beside us that could be seen through it. I was confused. "Who does he come here to see, then?" I asked.

  Mrs. Carlton frowned bitterly. "He comes here to see his girlfriend."

  "What girlfriend?"

  "She lives up there, in the same apartment as that young man who died," she said sadly.

  My heart started beating a little faster. "Camille?" I whispered.

  C.

  "Mrs. Carlton, what is Camille's last name?"

  I caught Kenneth staring at us intently, also barely breathing as he waited for her answer.

  Mrs. Carlton had to think hard for a second.

  "Clarke," she finally said. "Camille Clark."

  Kenneth put his phone back in his pocket while I raced up the stairs of the apartment building. "Who were you calling?" I asked him breathlessly. I had a feeling I knew the answer, but didn't really want to hear it.

  "It's as a backup, Rachael," he called out, five paces behind me. "I don't want to see you wind up dead, okay?" He had to stop to catch his breath. "I do actually care about you."

  I paused for a moment and looked down the stairwell at him. "When all this is over, we should go on a proper date," I said, before turning to run back up.

  I reached Camille and Oscar's door.

  "Oh, hi, Rachael," Camille answered, pushing her bleached blonde hair behind her ear. It was past midday, but she looked like she had just woken up, a robe hanging off her. "What are you doing here?"

  She glanced at Kenneth, but there was no look of recognition on her face.

  "Who's this?"

  I shook my head. "You should recognize him, seeing as you told me he was Oscar's business partner." I lowered my voice. "And you and Oscar were oh so close, weren't you?"

  I saw the color drain from Camille's face as she pulled her robe tighter around her.

  "It wasn't Kenneth who was going into business with Oscar at all, was it?" I asked Camille. "It was you." I crossed my arms. "Only you knew, from living with the guy, that he was irresponsible with his money, that he annoyed neighbors, and that he was a terrible choice for a partner."

  Camille let out a loud scoff, her face as hard and set as cement. "I found out those things too late," she said, her voice low and bitter. "After I'd already given him the money and he blew it all."

  "And you knew all about the Belldale Halloween Killer. You borrowed that book from the library, Camille, and it won't take more than a warrant to prove it. You're going to jail for this. And Max too."

  She looked at me in shock. "Max didn't do anything. He didn't know anything. I just asked him to wear the pumpkin costume."

  "So he was set up. Real classy, Camille."

  Camille reached out and pushed me out of the way. I almost fell down the stairs, but Kenneth caught me.

  "Hey!" he yelled after Camille. "Come back here!"

  We both chased her down the stairwell, but she was quick. She would have escaped onto the street if Jackson and a police car hadn't been waiting there at the bottom for her.

  I shook my head at Kenneth. "I knew it."

  "I was right, though," he said, reaching out to grab me. He wrapped his arms around me and held me for a moment. "I'm glad you're okay, Rachael."

  I pulled away and noticed Jackson quickly avert his eyes while he put the cuffs on Camille and placed her in the back of the police car.

  Kenneth put his arm around my shoulder as they drove away.

  "So, this is what it’s like hanging around with you," Kenneth finally said with a little shake of his head. "It might take me a little getting used to."

  "Hey," I said with a shrug. "At least you and I are no longer in danger." I frowned for a second. "Actually, we never really were, were we?"

  Kenneth looked at me wryly. "Well, I wasn't, no—until I met you. And almost lost my business....my freedom." He was teasing, though.

  "Right. Sorry about that." I laughed and turned to walk away.

  "Come on," Kenneth said. "Let's go make use of those pumpkins."

  Epilogue

  "I hope you guys like cake!" Kenneth announced as he pushed the cart through the doors of the bakery.

  The bakery was full of freshly blown up balloons, the old ones from earlier in the trash, replaced by these and other new decorations fit for a belated Halloween Party.

  Tegan twirled around in her cape before she stuck a knife into one of the pumpkins and started cutting up slices for all the guests.

  First slice went to Pippa, the guest of honor, and Queen of Halloween. "I hope we've saved your favorite holiday after all," I told her, handing her a slice of black and orange cake. "Now, hurry up and eat that before it goes bad." I stood up and winked at Kenneth.

  "And there's plenty more where that came from, believe me!" he called out.

  With a baby in her arms, Pippa looked like a totally different person.

  "It's okay. I can admit when I was wrong," Pippa said. "I did sort of get carried away." She looked down at Lolly as I sat beside them, taking a huge bite of my own cake. "I'm giving up my fame anyway. I have more important things to worry about now."

  I glanced up at Kenneth as I whispered to Pippa. "Is there anything else you were wrong about?"

  Pippa slowly raised an eyebrow. "We'll have to wait and see about that," she said, chomping on her cake. "I'll have to make sure he's actually a good boyfriend before I totally accept him." She swallowed her mouthful. "But, at least he's not a serial killer. And I have to admit that he makes a darn good cake."

  I looked over at little Lolly, who just barely managed to open her eyes. I laughed. "She doesn't care about this, does she?" I said, glancing around at the party and our guests.

  "Maybe not this year," Pippa said. "But, believe me. She's going to grow up celebrating my favorite holiday like the best of them!"

  I laughed. "Happy Halloween, Pippa. And Happy Halloween, Lolly."

  Thanks for reading The Pumpkin Killer. I hope you enjoyed reading the story as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you did, it would be awesome if you left a review for me on Amazon and/or Goodreads.

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  Preview: A Pie to Die For

  "But you don't understand, I use only the finest, organic ingredients." My voice was high-pitched as I pleaded my case to the policeman. Oh, this was just like an episode of Criminal Point. Hey, I wondered who the killer turned out to be. I shook my head. That's not important, Rachael, I scolded myself. What's important is getting yourself off this murder charge. Still, I hoped Pippa had recorded the ending of the episode.

  I tried to steady my breathing as Jackson—Detective Whitaker—entered the room and threw a folder on the table, before studying the contents as though he was cramming for a test he had to take the next day. He rubbed his temples and frowned.

  Is he even going to make eye contact with me? Is he just going to completely ignore the interaction we had at the fair? Pretend it never even happened.

  "Jackson..." I started, before I was met with a steely glare. "Detective. Surely you can't think I had anything to do with this?"

  Jackson looked up at me slowly. "Had you ever had any contact with Mrs. Batters before today?"

  I shifted in my seat. "Yes," I had to admit. "I knew her a little from the store. She was always quite antagonistic towards me, but I'd never try to kill her!"

  "Witnesses near the scene said that you two had an argument." He gave me that same steely glare. Where was the charming, flirty, sweet guy I'd meet earlier? He was now buried beneath a suit and a huge attitude.