Harvest Moon

by James A. Moore

  They had one other recourse, if they felt bold and wanted extra credit. They could write their own ghost story, as long as it was original. That idea didn’t sit well with most of them. A few got brave and did their original story anyway. They were amateurish and about as scary as an episode of Scooby Doo, but at least they’d tried.

  Josh Kinder—whose parents ran Kinder’s Garden—was of the solid opinion that Miss Holly was going to be his future wife. Forget the fact that she was over twice his age, he was convinced that it was true love.

  Really, he couldn’t be blamed. As teachers went, she was the prettiest at the school. She had long blond hair that she normally wore in a ponytail and a figure that was straight out of a men’s magazine. He was not alone in his desires to get to know her better. A good number of his classmates, and a few of the other teachers for that matter, thought highly of that concept. She might have known how they felt—probably did, in fact, as she was hardly stupid—but she did nothing to encourage the feelings. She was there to do a job and that was the only reason she was there.

  Holly had a life outside of the school that had nothing whatsoever to do with her students or her coworkers, much as they might all wish otherwise. Josh knew all of that, but it didn’t matter. He still had plans to marry her someday.

  He was looking right at her when she called his name out, sounding just a little concerned. “Josh, you okay?”

  He blinked and tried to pull himself away from the fantasy he’d been having about saving her from pirates on a schooner. “Umm, I’m fine, Miss Holly.” His voice chose that moment to crack on him and the word fine jumped about three octaves. He felt his skin flush with warmth and knew his face had to be glowing a nice bright shade of red. That just made matters worse, of course.

  The teacher moved closer to him and he had to force his eyes away from her hips and the way they just sort of rolled with her every step. Her bright blue eyes looked concerned and maybe just a little amused. He heard Derek and Stewart laughing behind him and prayed for a quick and painless death before matters got any worse. Fate was not that kind.

  Miss Holly put her warm, soft palm on his forehead and frowned in a way that was motherly. His body’s reaction was decidedly not the one he usually reserved for his mother. He fidgeted in his seat, hoping the sudden warmth spreading through his crotch didn’t look as big as it felt. From this far away, her perfume was almost as hypnotic as the swells of her breasts only two feet from his face. “Well, you feel a little warm, but if you say you’re okay, then I guess you’re okay.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  She smiled brightly and he tried not to get anymore flustered. Derek Carmody was not making it any easier. They might have been best buddies, but he knew he was going to catch hell for getting busted by the teacher. Derek and Stew were going to make him suffer royally for this one.

  Miss Holly turned away and he watched her head back to the front of the class. He knew he wasn’t alone. Every time she turned her back she was the subject of close scrutiny. Derek’s favorite phrase about Miss Holly was that she had an ass made for spanking. Josh really couldn’t disagree, but he would have tried to find a better way to put it.

  Melissa Partridge was up next for story time, and she looked about twice as nervous as he felt. She was a cute girl with a cute face, but she was also not very popular. It probably had a lot to do with her father being in jail for beating her mother and her aunt to death up in Utica. Not really the sort of thing people forgot, and in Josh’s case at least, it left him having absolutely no idea how to talk to her. Right after the murders she’d been a wreck, crying at the drop of a hat and sometimes losing her temper over nothing at all. He really couldn’t blame her, he’d probably be at least as freaked out, but damn, it was rough trying to get past that.

  Melissa lived with her other aunt and uncle these days, and as a result was now his neighbor. He heard her sometimes, late at night, when she cried herself to sleep. They always said hello when they met outside of their homes, but it seldom went beyond a wave and a smile. He just had no idea what to say to her and when he thought about it the only things that came to mind were exactly what she did not want to hear. Hi, Melissa, have any good nightmares last night? Because I heard you screaming and later, I heard you crying. Not really a conversation starter there.

  He’d known her new family for as long as he’d been alive, but Melissa wasn’t exactly one of the people he hung around with. That was going to change in the next couple of days. His folks had invited the Kings over for dinner and they obviously weren’t going to leave their niece at home when they came over.

  Melissa looked out at her classmates and started speaking. Definitely cute. She had big dark brown eyes that went perfectly with the color of her hair and just a few freckles painting her nose and the area immediately around it. Her lips were full and when she smiled—a rarity since dear old dad had taken his favorite hammer to mom’s face and skull and female parts—her dimples seemed to go on and on. She was dressed in jeans that had been strategically faded to accentuate her form and a peasant blouse that had probably cost a small fortune. Maybe it was his close encounter with the teacher, but Josh was actually noticing Melissa for the first time in a long while. Suddenly the idea of having her over for dinner didn’t seem to suck quite so much.

  Melissa got bolder than he would have expected, and read her own story. She was nervous, and that took an edge away, but the tale was fun just the same. Instead of just doing a ghost story, she incorporated a little of the local legends and told a story of the witch’s victims coming back to haunt the streets on Halloween night. She took the time to describe the weather and used enough local landmarks, like the Witch’s Hollow and the old Haverhill Cemetery that had almost been swallowed entirely by the woods, to make it seem, to Josh at least, that he could actually see the people in the tale as they went about their night of horror.

  By the time Melissa was getting close to the finish of her yarn, the bell in the hallway just beyond the room screamed out a dismissal. Josh was glad to see that he wasn’t the only one who jumped at the sudden sharp blast. A few kids let out nervous laughs and Josh caught himself joining in. Miss Holly applauded and within a few seconds several others had joined in.

  He thought about telling her how much he liked the story, but the idea of saying anything at all in front of the class was right up there with having a hammer vigorously pounded into his testicles. He was already going to get shit from Derek and Stewart.

  Josh decided to keep his peace until the dinner. He could be patient and not have to worry about what to say.

  II

  The day wasn’t turning out so well, and it was just barely past ten in the morning. All in all, Craig was of the firm opinion that it would have been best to just stay in bed. He really didn’t like it when the world turned to shit before he’d even bothered with a decent breakfast.

  Yesterday there was a murder, no doubt about that. Today, it was a missing person with a distinct possibility of foul play. The first hint? That would be the thick flow of blood all over the examination room at the All Creatures Animal Clinic. He sighed and scratched the back of his neck. The call had come in just after the sun rose, and had come from Merle Hastings. He’d been out delivering a calf the night before and had gone home just after nine in the evening. When he tried to call the clinic he’d gotten nothing but a ringtone and that had worried him a bit, but only because Kelly had never called him on the cell phone to say she was heading home. He might have checked in on most of the kids working for him, but Kelly wasn’t exactly known for waiting for orders. When her shift ended she got out of the building like her ass was on fire.

  And when he opened up the back doors—which had been closed and locked just like they should have been—he’d seen the huge pool of blood on the linoleum floor and promptly called Craig at home.

  Craig was looking at the drying stain and waiting patiently for the good Doctor Harris to get done with his part of the ex
amination before giving the okay for cleaning everything up.

  Merle Hastings was pacing outside of the crime scene; his round, weathered face showing his concern over who or what had been slaughtered. Craig had known the man for most of his life and had seldom seen him fret this much. Merle probably would have been just as upset if it were a person dying badly or a dog. He was a little strange that way, but then again that was probably what made him a good veterinarian.

  “So, Merle? You have any idea who the last person to see Kelly was?”

  “I already looked at the log for yesterday. Cloris Waterson was the last client to sign the appointment book.”

  Craig gnawed the inside of his lip for a second and sighed softly. The likelihood of Cloris Waterson committing any crime rougher than spreading gossip was slim to none.

  Craig frowned. Was it a murder? Probably. He didn’t think it likely he’d find that much blood from a single source and not have a dead person on his hands. Kelly Phillips was about as trustworthy and likeable as a child-molesting politician, but that didn’t make it any less of a crime if someone had killed her. With the number of boyfriends she tried to play against each other, he wouldn’t be surprised if one of them finally got pissed and decided to put paid-in-full to her account. But the question of the hour was who the hell was she pissing off and what had they done with the body? Assuming there was a body. For all he knew the blood coating the floor and counter was from a bag of the animal plasma kept on the premises.

  “You check your blood supplies, Merle? Any chance this is something for dog transfusions?”

  “I haven’t, but I will now.” The thought seemed to take a little of the tension out of the man, and that was a good thing. Craig wasn’t a doctor by any stretch of the imagination, but he was pretty damned sure the man was well into heart attack territory.

  “I appreciate that. I’m gonna go talk to Cloris and see if she saw or heard anything. Please let Carl know if anything is missing, all right?” Carl Moyer was one of the five officers who worked under Craig, and a generally good guy. Craig had done his best to make all of his men understand that the people in Beldam Woods were their bosses and should be treated with respect, even when they got stupid. So far, he’d apparently done a good enough job. There hadn’t been any complaints filed in over four years and that was a good thing.

  “Will do, Craig.”

  He left five minutes later, just as Carl was pulling up, and gave him instructions to work everything over. “I want fingerprints taken in every part of that examination room. We’ll put them through the system and see if we get lucky. I also want to know if anyone saw Kelly Phillips yesterday or this morning. If they did, I want to know what they were doing and what she was doing.”

  He must have been making his stern face without realizing it, because Carl didn’t even try to crack a joke or make light of the situation. That was good too, because Craig wasn’t in a joking mood. At least one bad death and a disappearance in two days was not the sort of thing that left him feeling all warm and fuzzy.

  Much as he preferred walking, Craig took the squad car. Cloris lived in the part of town where hoofing it wasn’t really all that much fun. Every damned street was a collection of hills and curves that slowed down the ability to get anywhere in a hurry. Besides, Cloris was the sort that didn’t really figure you could be a police officer if the car wasn’t a part of the package.

  Cloris Waterson was an institution in Beldam Woods. She was richer than most and snootier than she had any right to be. But she was also a sad old lady who’d lost everyone of importance to her a long time ago. Some of them were dead and some of them, like her daughter, just wanted nothing to do with her. Somewhere along the way, Cloris had burned every bridge with her remaining family members. Most of the stories said it was her fault, but Craig had his doubts that she could be the only person who’d done something wrong.

  Whatever the case, she normally looked like she’d been drinking a lot of lemonade without any sugar to take away the shock. Today was no exception. She answered the door of her massive house on the second knock, and he was pretty sure she’d watched him as he walked up the long staircase that led to the front door.

  “Hi, Cloris. How are you doing today?”

  “Well enough to walk, Craig. What can I do for you?” That was what passed for pleasantries, so it was on to business.

  “Well, I understand you were at All Creatures yesterday.”

  The woman’s dour expression changed only in that she looked even more annoyed than she usually did. “I was. Not that it helped with anything. All I wanted was the booster shots they told me my babies needed, and all I got was a lot of waiting in that foul-smelling waiting room.”

  “Well, now, it could be there was a reason for that—”

  “All I know is that I waited for over an hour. And if they think I’m paying them for waiting around, they are sadly mistaken. So you can go right back over there and tell that little tramp receptionist of theirs that I don’t have any intention of paying for services not rendered.”

  “Well, Cloris, it’s about Kelly—”

  “That’s the one! I waited for her and waited for her. I rang the little bell, I even tried calling on that cell phone I bought, and no one answered!”

  Craig clenched his teeth and forced himself to remain calm. It wasn’t really a good idea to anger the potential witness, especially when he figured her for the type that would lie about what she saw strictly out of spite if she took offense. “Cloris…”

  “I’m not playing games here, young man. If you’ve come to collect a bill from me, you’ll just have to arrest me, because I will be damned before I’ll pay them one red cent.”

  “Cloris, Kelly Phillips is missing and possibly dead. I couldn’t give a good damn about whether or not you owe them money. I’m here to investigate a possible crime.” He stood to his full height and put on his cop face as he spoke—you likely know the expression: cold, hard, and dangerous—his eyes never leaving the old woman’s. “What I need from you, if you’re willing, is information on who, if anyone, you saw enter or leave that building from the time you signed in to the time you left.”

  Cloris stared at him for a few heartbeats, remembering as if by magic why, exactly, the police officers in town were so good at keeping the peace. “Of course, Craig. I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” Her voice was meeker than he expected, and he suddenly felt bad for the yelling. Not horrible, but a little guilty. There were things that had to be done and he couldn’t spend his day placating an elderly woman if there might be a life on the line.

  “I’m sorry if I sounded brusque, Cloris, but I don’t know right now if Kelly is even alive and I need to check with anyone who might have seen somebody, just in case it leads to finding her.”

  The old woman stepped out of the way and let him into the thick scent of potpourri that practically overwhelmed the living room beyond. A few minutes later they had dispensed with the remaining pleasantries and got down to business.

  III

  It was almost a perfect day as far as Jeremy was concerned. The air was cool and dry, carrying the scent of firewood burning from over the next hill, where the farms were. He barely needed his coat, but he wore it anyway to defend against the sudden biting breezes that kept sneaking in. The sun was out and bright. The trees were a frozen explosion of colors—red, orange, and yellow—a blazing fire that did not burn.

  His mom and dad were both in good moods and smiling. A smile did not always mean they were in good moods; he’d learned that little lesson a long time ago. It was time to pick out their pumpkins for Halloween. One for each member of the family to carve. His older brother, Dalton, was already running through the piles and rows of future jack-o-lanterns, searching for just the right pumpkin. Dalton was so excited he forgot to act too cool to care. The front porch was big enough to hold them all easily. It was tradition in the household to pick a pumpkin and carve the jack-o-lantern of your own design. Their parents might fi
ght all day and night about how to pay the bills—a fact that Jeremy and his older sibling weren’t supposed to know about—but when it came to special events there was always enough money to do them up the right way. When he was younger he’d drawn the designs and his mom had done the carving, but those days were in the past.

  Jeremy Koslowski was considered a big boy these days. He could hold a knife without being a danger to himself and others. Yippee. His father looked over at him and tapped him lightly on the shoulder. “You find the biggest pumpkin you can, Jeremy. We’re gonna do it up right this year.”

  Jeremy smiled, letting the man’s good mood become infectious. He loved Halloween. He could be anyone at all for that one day of the year and that was a notion he could enjoy.

  The Punkin Patch was bigger this year than last, though it still stood in the same place as always, in front of the Lutheran Church. It must have been a bumper crop by the looks of things. He’d never seen that many pumpkins in one place, and if he’d been asked he would have probably had to confess that he hadn’t thought there were that many pumpkins in the entire world. They came in every shape and size, from small enough to fit in his hand to big enough to just about sit in comfortably; from squat ovular shapes that were almost as smooth as his chin to massive warty things that already looked like they’d been abused and scarred by life. And the smell of them! That alone made him realize how close they were to Halloween. Later, he’d be overwhelmed by the scent of their flesh cooking when the candles were in place. He loved that smell as much as he did the scent of pine tree sap on Christmas morning.

  He moved away from his father’s side and started looking at the gourds, almost completely oblivious to the other kids around him until Josh Kinder smiled at him. Josh was the coolest kid in class, and though they didn’t hang out all that much—Jeremy’s parents had seldom let him out of their sight until this year—Josh had always been nice to him.