by Cindy Sample
Once we arrived home Ben disappeared into the pantry. I could hear him counting out loud. “Hey, Mom, I don't think we have enough Halloween candy."
"Of course we do, I bought twelve bags. That should be enough for this neighborhood."
He walked out of the pantry, arms laden with multicolored plastic bags filled with an assortment of miniature candy bars. He scowled at me. “We don't want to run out like we did last year."
That had been a little embarrassing. I meant to buy extra bags of candy but totally forgot and ended up handing out plastic bags filled with carrots and broccoli stalks. It was months before the neighbors let me live that down. Sometimes the benefit of living somewhere long enough that you know all of your neighbors is offset by the fact that they know you and all of your little foibles as well. I had to put up with being referred to as Mrs. Broccoli for the rest of the year.
Ben was in bed by nine in preparation for his debut as Spiderman. Jenna was singing with her high school chorale and would get a lift home from one of her friends. The phone rang and I grabbed it before it woke up Ben.
"I hope I'm not calling too late. I just finished with those clients. They went back and forth trying to decide what to offer, but we finally came to an agreement on a fair price."
That's nice, Mother. So why are you calling me with this fascinating piece of information at this time of night? I scanned my closet trying to decide if I should wear Halloween attire to work the next day.
"So, dear, what do you think of Peter?"
Ah ha. I should have known there would be a grilling once I left the office. “He seems very nice."
"He's quite a catch, you know. He's been divorced about a year now so I know he's available. He developed that Bella Lago subdivision off of Salmon Falls Road. Isn't that a romantic name?"
Her voice rose to a higher pitch. “Laurel, I asked you a question."
Oops, I hadn't been listening. “Salmon, yes, that would be great for dinner."
The sound of teeth gritting echoed through the receiver. “You are hopeless. I don't know why I even attempt to introduce you to suitable men."
Okay, maybe we weren't talking about salmon.
"Mother, I don't think I should go on any more dates until these murders are solved. Peter could be putting himself in danger by going out with me."
"Nonsense. Obviously you didn't have anything to do with the deaths of those men. Just promise me you won't go out with anyone else from the Love Club."
"You'll be pleased to know we are in total agreement there. Gotta go, big day tomorrow."
Fortunately she agreed Halloween could be considered a big day and we said goodbye.
Wednesday dawned cold but sunny, perfect weather for Halloween ghosts and goblins. I decided to forego wearing a costume but I did bring a batch of my gold nugget fudge to the office, always a surefire hit. Not surprising since anything remotely edible was welcomed with open arms and mouths. Just the mention of “free food” and seconds later a line would stretch throughout the building.
Patti had agreed to take the boys out trick or treating in her neighborhood until I arrived at her house. The minute I pulled up in her driveway, the two superheroes ran out of the house and hopped in my car. Once we arrived home, I walked through the kitchen door and bumped into a gruesome figure. Jenna was dressed head to toe in black, her costume topped off with a pointed witch's hat. Ben and Jimmy followed me in, engrossed in counting the candy in their bags.
"Hello, my pretties,” Jenna cackled, her olive green skin and rubber putty nose repulsive in the fluorescent lighting of my kitchen.
Jimmy, dressed in a Batman outfit, jumped two feet into the air. Ben barely glanced at his sister. “Lo, Jenna. Cool makeup."
The doorbell rang and all three kids ran to the front door to meet, greet and scare the newcomers. It was time for Mom to transform herself into a clown. The neighborhood kids expected it. I slathered white paste all over my face, drew huge eyelashes above and below both eyes, painted two red circles on my cheeks, and outlined my mouth with a bright red lipstick. A black bowler hat topped a curly red wig.
My costume included a red polka dot blouse with puffy sleeves that my mother bought me twenty years ago. It must have been after a three-martini lunch. Red suspenders attached to a pair of baggy red shorts, knee socks covered with red polka dots, and gigantic red plastic shoes completed the outfit. My full complement of clown paraphernalia included a loud horn, buzzer hand shaker, and the piece de resistance this year, a yellow plastic flower pin that squirted water.
As my two-foot long shoes attempted to maneuver down the stairs, the doorbell pealed. Ben opened the door but there was a noticeable absence of noise. No kids yelling trick or treat? My son stood paralyzed in the doorway so I waddled over to see what was wrong. Walking in these shoes was like being ten months pregnant.
I stepped behind Ben and stared at our visitors. No wonder he was speechless. I gazed into the mirror image of my child—or that is, the mirror image of another Spiderman. A larger version. I wasn't surprised to see another Spiderman costume out there but I guess Ben wasn't prepared for it. I looked at the parent accompanying the child to see if he was anyone we knew.
The boy's father was dressed in black pants, a white tuxedo style shirt, and a black cape. Half of his face was covered with a white mask. Brilliant amateur detective that I am, I recognized the Phantom of the Opera standing on my doorstep. Hmmm. If this guy could sing “All I Ask Of You,” he would receive all of our candy without hesitation.
"Hello there, Spiderman. Mr. Phantom, how are things at the opera house these days?"
The phantom smiled, his one brown eye twinkling at me. That twinkling brown eye looked vaguely familiar.
My thoughts were interrupted by the annoyed voice of the Spiderman at our door. “Trick or treat, trick or treat. Are you gonna give me any candy or what?"
The phantom finally spoke. “Kristy, that's not polite. Please apologize to Ms. McKay and Ben. I'm sure they're surprised to see us on their doorstep."
Kristy? The soccer terror was Spiderman? What happened to little girls who dressed up like a princess or a ballerina?
Ben broke the silence. “You can't be Spiderman, Kristy. You're a girl."
"Hey, it's a free world. I can be Spiderman if I want. Let's go, Dad, we'll never get any candy here.” She turned and trudged back down the sidewalk, her bag dragging on the ground.
"Kristy, come back,” I shouted at her retreating form. “I think you make a fine Spiderman.” Okay, it was kind of a weird costume, but the poor child didn't have a mother to help her out. The Phantom/detective joined his daughter and they held a brief conversation. Father and daughter walked back to the door holding hands.
"Do you really like my costume?” Kristy's voice quavered as her eyes questioned me. I could tell my opinion was important to the motherless child.
"I think it's wonderful. We girls have special powers, too."
She beamed a smile so angelic St. Peter would have been proud.
I grabbed the plastic candy-filled pumpkin from Ben. Kristy's smile spread from one freckled cheekbone to the other as I dumped eight different candy bars in her bag. “Thank you for the candy, Ms. McKay. I'm sorry if I was rude before,” she said, without any prompting from her father.
Nice apology. Maybe she wasn't such a hellion, after all.
"You're very welcome, Kristy. But what brings you to our neighborhood tonight?"
The phantom cleared his throat. Was the detective about to burst into song?
"Kristy still doesn't know many of the kids in our subdivision. They seem kind of standoffish. She mentioned that Ben has treated her like a pal at school and she thought maybe he would trick or treat with her. Of course I should have realized that Ben would be going out with other friends..."
His voice trailed off as he gazed lovingly at his daughter, her tiny hand enfolded in his.
This was not the angry soccer dad I'd met across a muddy field. Nor wa
s it the suspicious interrogator I'd encountered at Starbucks. For the first time the detective was cast in a vulnerable role. It must be terrible to be widowed, having to raise a young daughter alone. Particularly given his career choice.
I looked up into his eyes—or rather his eye. The other one was still covered by the mask.
Fortunately, my sixteen-year old daughter who appeared to be maturing by the minute chose that moment to step in. “Detective Hunter, we'd be glad to take Kristy along with us. I was on my way out with the boys. Mom's going to remain home to hand out candy so you can stay and help her. It gets really busy with hordes of kids coming at once."
Jenna shot me a grin and I mouthed a silent thank you. I wasn't sure that hordes of children would be congregating at my door this evening but I was thrilled at the proactive manner in which she had come to Kristy's rescue. She grabbed the young girl's hand and they walked out the door together. Kristy skipped down the sidewalk trying to keep up with my daughter's brisk pace. Jenna paused to look back at the boys.
"Are you guys coming? If you don't hurry the neighbors will run out of candy."
That remark took care of Jimmy and Ben's temporary paralysis. They grabbed their bags and ran after the girls, practically knocking them over in their hurry. I closed the front door and turned around. My giant red clodhoppers stomped all over the detective's shiny black shoes.
"Sorry,” I apologized. “I'm not sure I'll ever get used to wearing two-foot long shoes, Can I get you something to drink?"
"No, I'm good.” He hesitated, glancing down and contemplating his shoes for a few seconds. “You have no idea how much I appreciate this. It's only the second Halloween since my wife passed away. She used to make all of Kristy's costumes, Snow White, Cinderella, typical little girl clothes. I think Kristy's choosing these outlandish outfits so she won't be reminded of her mother's creations."
I nodded in sympathy. “My dad died in a car accident when I was ten. For a long time I was mad at everyone. It seemed so unfair for him to die so young. Why was I the only kid who didn't have a dad? But eventually I learned to cope. To concentrate on remembering the good times we had and appreciate what a wonderful father he was for the short time he was with us."
"It's been tough. Kristy's been so rebellious it's difficult knowing what to do. What battles to fight or when to give in. That's one of the reasons I moved to Placerville. I hoped being closer to her grandparents would help her cope. She has a hard time making friends. Even in soccer. The boys respect her for her abilities but they won't play with her because she's a girl. Ben's one of the few kids who's been kind to her."
"That's my Ben.” I chuckled. “Of course he's used to being bossed around by three generations of women so one more female in his life is no big deal."
Hunter smiled a twisted smile at me. Extremely twisted, since he was still wearing his mask. Poor guy. Having to contend with his wife's death and his daughter's emotional issues, plus attempting to solve the county's proliferating murders couldn't be easy. The unapproachable grizzly bear of a man was demonstrating some teddy bear tendencies. He might be a detective but he was also a father, struggling with the parenting issues we all encounter on a daily basis.
The detective removed his mask, leaving his thick chestnut hair in total disarray. His hair looked like it was aching to be ruffled. Or maybe I was aching to ruffle it. My heart was beating louder than a bongo drum.
Was I the only person feeling a frenzy of pheromones floating in the air?
He stepped close just as the doorbell rang. Never had trick-or-treaters been so unwelcome. I grudgingly opened the door and mimicked a clown's squeaky voice. My shrill soprano sounded more like Truman Capote than a clown but the kids didn't seem to mind. I plopped a candy bar in each of the children's bags. The front door was almost shut when I felt something brush against my ankle. An orange, black, and white blur streaked out the small opening.
"No!” I dropped the candy on the floor and attempted to run after Pumpkin. And no, it is not possible to run across a lawn in two-foot long shoes. I managed three steps before my right shoe caught in one of the sprinkler heads along the edge of the sidewalk. I flew over the large azalea bush next to the sidewalk and landed a perfect face plant in the middle of my crabgrass-filled lawn.
Detective Hunter knelt down. “Laurel, are you okay? Do you think you've broken any bones? Try moving your foot. Just a little, not too much. Lie still. Don't sit up too fast."
The nonstop litany of medical commands confused me so I chose to ignore all of them. I sat up slowly then leaned over to examine my shoeless right foot. My left foot was still encumbered by its floppy mate. My foot didn't hurt too much although my brain felt foggy.
Now why was I running?
"Pumpkin!” I grabbed the detective's arm as I attempted to stand up.
"You want a pumpkin?” A worried frown creased his forehead. “I think you have a concussion. You need to stay still.” He helped me back into a sitting position.
"Pumpkin's our kitten. That's the blur of fur I was chasing. Do you see a cat anywhere?” The sensation of something sticky caressing my right hand got my attention. It didn't look like the phantom was drooling on my digits so I glanced down to find the kitten licking my fingers.
The detective stared at Pumpkin with a confused look. “There's an unusual looking creature attached to your hand."
"Yep, that's Pumpkin. The kids surprised me with it last weekend. She's been a bundle of entertainment ever since."
"Um, she's the most unusual looking cat I've ever seen,” he tactfully replied.
Since I wasn't in the mood to discuss Pumpkin's redeeming qualities, or lack thereof, I grabbed her and attempted to get up as gracefully as I could manage. My right knee buckled and I collapsed back on the lawn. Hunter dropped down beside me. “Is it your knee? Your ankle? Hamstring?"
It looked like the detective's interrogation skills also extended into the medical arena. I held up my palm. “Slow down. Let me try to walk and we'll see what happens."
He held on to Pumpkin with one hand, keeping his other arm wrapped around my waist as I limped up the sidewalk. Once inside the house, he locked the door and the kitten scurried off. I hobbled halfway across the living room before I stumbled on a small piece of candy that must have fallen out of one of the boy's bags.
Once again I found myself hanging on to my rescuer. I was about to thank him when I noticed that his eyes had a peculiar look in them. It almost looked like, like—lust? My heart pumped faster as he leaned toward me. I moved closer as well. My head swam with desire and I could feel my chest getting wetter and wetter.
Huh?
[Back to Table of Contents]
FIFTEEN
Advice to single clowns everywhere. Never wear a water-squirting plastic flower if there is any chance you may be kissed by a hunky detective. And never attempt a kiss on Halloween, I thought, as the doorbell clamored yet again.
The detective strode into the foyer and yanked the door open.
Kristy's voice rang out. “What happened to your shirt, Dad?” Her question was followed by the familiar refrain of my children. “Hey, Mom, where are you?"
Two of the sugar infused miniature super heroes blasted into the room. “How come you're only wearing one shoe?” asked my pint size Spiderman.
"I fell down on the front lawn and hurt my knee chasing your kitten.” I looked accusingly at the probable offender. “Someone forgot to close the door to the laundry room."
"Is Pumpkin okay? Did you find her?” Tears formed in Ben's eyes. Such a sensitive child. Maybe someday, he would feel the same compassion for his poor old mother.
"Hey, Mrs. McKay, your shirt's all wet. Did you guys have a water fight?"
When did Jimmy become so observant?
"I was demonstrating my plastic flower on Detective Hunter and we both got wet.” I quickly changed the subject. “Are you having fun, Kristy?"
"Yeah, it's been a blast. You guys ready to go back out?"<
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All three of the kids ran out of the house while Jenna lingered behind.
"Thanks for taking care of the kids, honey.” I put my arm around her shoulder as I leaned against one of the chairs. “Are you sure Kristy is having a good time?"
Jenna smirked. “Oh, she's having a great time, although maybe not as good as the two of you.” She pointed her finger in the direction of my sopping wet shirt then sauntered out after the younger kids.
Tom closed the front door behind them then turned to me with a pensive look on his face. “We need to talk,” he said abruptly. “Let's sit on the sofa."
Although the thought of sitting together on the sofa hinted at romance, the serious tone of his voice did not. He offered his arm and I hung on while I limped to the sofa and eased into the lumpy cushions. The detective grabbed a blue-fringed throw pillow and propped my leg up on the coffee table before he settled on the opposite side of the sofa.
"I better get rid of this stupid plastic flower before I douse you again.” Was that subtle enough?
"Good idea. Although by the time I'm done with my explanation you may want to do something worse than soak me."
I settled into the cushions. It didn't sound like any canoodling was on his agenda. Tom was quiet for a few seconds, his index finger tracing one of the blue flowers decorating the arm of the sofa. I waited patiently. This sounded like an important discussion, a discussion that could impact me forever.
"Laurel, I haven't been in a relationship since my wife passed away. My entire existence revolves around my daughter, my parents and my job. Right now I don't have time for anyone else in my life. But the first time I saw you running to your son's rescue, racing across that soccer field in those silly blue shoes..."
"My turquoise mules aren't silly,” I interrupted, “they're..."
He reached across the sofa and stopped my babbling, placing a finger on my lips. “Let me finish. Despite our hostile introduction on the soccer field, I haven't been able to stop thinking about you. And not just as a murder suspect."