A Killer Halloween: A Mt. Abrams Mystery (The Mt. Abrams Mysteries Book 3)

by Dee Ernst

  Viv raised an eyebrow. “Disagreement? I can’t imagine anyone not getting along with someone as warm and friendly as Todd.”

  Mary Rose looked confused for a second, then laughed nervously. “Oh, you’re just being funny, Viv. I know that Todd can come across as, well, a bit distant, but once he puts his mask on, he’s a whole other person. Well, see you ladies later.”

  She scurried off, and Viv shook her head.

  “Just what Mt. Abrams needs for Halloween. Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.”

  I poked her with my elbow. “Stop it. It won’t be that bad. So tell me, what else do you think James would be good at?”

  She laughed and told me as we went back up the hill.

  Chapter 2

  Friday was my day to visit my mother. She lived in a lovely assisted living facility, a beautiful old mansion that had been converted and improved so it met all the state standards, but still looked like an elegant country home. Mom had recently been fitted with an ankle bracelet after walking out the front door, down the driveway, and out onto the highway. Now, if she chose to walk out the door, bells and whistles would sound, and she’d be turned around before clearing the parking lot.

  Sometimes she remembered who I was. Lately, she thought I was just a caseworker, checking up on her situation. She would recite a litany of complaints—bad food, not being allowed to read, being locked in the same room with petty thieves and general scalawags, and being given drugs that immobilized her for hours at a time. I sat and listened, pretended to take notes, and made generally sympathetic noises. She did not invite me to have lunch with her, and when I made the suggestion, she looked embarrassed.

  “My dear young woman, I’m sure you’re a perfectly nice person, but I’m waiting for my daughter. I’m having lunch with her. I hope you understand.”

  Liz, her aide, managed a tight smile. I swallowed the lump in my throat and nodded. “Sure. I understand perfectly.” I stood up and kissed her on her forehead. Liz patted my mother’s hand. I walked out into the brisk fall air with my heart down around my knees.

  I called Sam. “Can we have lunch?”

  “Isn’t today lunch with Mom day?”

  “Apparently not. She’s waiting for her daughter.”

  “Oh, Ellie, I’m sorry. Sure. About an hour?”

  I arrived early and thought about either having a drink or eating an entire basket of bread sticks. Luckily, Sam came in before I was forced to choose.

  Sam Kinali was a big man—tall, broad across the shoulders, and arms that strained slightly against the fabric of his suit. He was a senior detective on the Lawrence Police Department, and in the five months I had known him, he always managed to generate a little jolt in my gut. He was also a great listener. Which is what he did for the first twenty minutes while I vented about everything from my mother to my bratty daughter, from Halloween to what the hell I was going to do for Thanksgiving this year.

  “Thanksgiving?” he asked when I finally wound down. “Isn’t it a bit early to think about Thanksgiving?”

  I shook my head and stabbed my chicken Caesar salad with my fork. “Right after Halloween, there’s about three days until Thanksgiving, then you blink, and it’s Christmas. It’s one giant rush of buying food and gifts and bad weather and cranky kids. Marc wants us to have Thanksgiving together with his family, which would be great because I wouldn’t have to cook, but then I’d have to have him at my house for Christmas Eve, and I would have to invite his family, and his mother never did like me… Maybe I could just run away from home?”

  He threw back his head and laughed. “And where would you go?”

  I sighed. “Good point.”

  “Do you need help with Halloween?”

  “Yes, I do. I need someone I can trust to be at the finish line, to add everything up, determine the times, and not cheat.”

  He looked at me quizzically. “Cheat?”

  “Never underestimate the lengths at which a parent will go to have a child in first place.”

  He laughed again. “I’ll take your word for it. So, we’ve gone through Thanksgiving and Christmas. What about New Year’s Eve?”

  I shuddered. “Worst holiday ever. I stay home, guzzle champagne, and watch the ball drop.”

  “Would you consider going away for the weekend? With me?”

  I looked at him. His eyes were twinkling. “Where?”

  “There’s a bed and breakfast in Vermont. A friend of mine from law school has taken the whole place, and has arranged for a murder-mystery weekend.”

  I started to laugh. I had promised Sam on the heads of both of my children that I would never again become involved in any kind of crime solving. Sharon Butler had almost killed me, and it had caused a rift between us, mainly because he had warned me to back off from investigating the murder of Rita Ferris, and I hadn’t listened to him. “You’re inviting me to play detective?”

  He shrugged elaborately. “Since you like it so much, yes. And in a completely controlled setting, I’ll know that you’ll be perfectly safe. And you’ll get to spend time with my friends for a change.”

  “Okay. It’s a deal.” A bed and breakfast. A weekend with Sam. And murder.

  It sounded perfect.

  Saturday morning was clear, and the temperature was predicted to stay in the high 50s. Halloween had become something of a crapshoot in New Jersey. One year brought a freak snowstorm that caused trees to fall, roads to be blocked for days, and extensive power outages. Then there was Hurricane Sandy. The past few years everyone held their collective breaths to see what October 31st would bring.

  Saturday, we got lucky.

  Cait and Kyle were to act as runners for me. All my other volunteers would keep in touch via cell phone, but in case anyone needed supplies or help, I could stay at my post in front of the library to keep things going while Cait and Kyle sprinted all over the neighborhood. So they were there with me when Mr. Scarecrow reported for duty.

  He was dressed in tattered jeans and an equally tattered denim shirt, and appeared to be as sullen and uncommunicative as before. With him was his brother, Doug, who made me rethink the entire science of genetics.

  Doug was also tall and lanky, and dressed in almost identical denim. He was very handsome, grinning from ear to ear, with no discernible ink or piercings. He and Cait hugged, he and Kyle performed an elaborate handshake, and he took my hand warmly.

  “Good to meet you, Ellie. I’m just here to tote and set up for Todd. He’s the real star,” Doug said.

  The real star shot Doug a look full of poison, grudgingly acknowledged my existence, and headed off toward Emma’s.

  Cait looked after him. “Everything okay, Doug?”

  Doug shrugged and looked embarrassed. “I have a gig tonight, and Todd usually helps me with the setup. Because he’s working too, he’s trying to back out. It’ll be fine. We fight about this all the time.”

  “Where’s the gig?” Kyle asked.

  “Hoboken,” Doug said. “I’m in a jazz trio, vocals and bass. You should check us out.” He touched his finger to his forehead in salute. “See you all later.”

  I watched him as he trudged after his brother. “They’re brothers?”

  Cait giggled. “I know, right?” Cait wore a Wicked Witch of the West costume, her long red hair stuffed into a pointy hat, pale green makeup and swirling robes. Kyle was a flying monkey, his wings flapping awkwardly. He was sweating under his brown fur.

  “You must really love my daughter to be wearing that around,” I remarked.

  He grinned. “I sure do.” Cait turned bright red under her patina.

  James Fergus came around the corner, Vivian Brewster at his side. I glanced at my watch. 4:35. The hunt was starting in less than half an hour, but there were already small children milling around.

  “Are we ready?” I called to Viv.

  She sported a brightly colored native costume I knew she had brought back from Trinidad. With her black skin and dazzling smile, she looked like Car
ibbean royalty. James wore a kilt. Seriously. Full Scottish regalia including a sword, and a little black tam on his handsome head. I almost swooned.

  Vivian beamed. “Let’s go.”

  Once the kids got lined up, things moved quickly. Tessa and Jerome teamed with Shelly’s two boys. The four of them were zombies. It was, generally speaking, a big year for the undead. Tessa stood out by being a zombie princess, her last year’s costume of pink tulle carefully shredded and splotched with fake blood.

  My ex-husband Marc walked her down from the house, then acted as a team leader for another group. Parents were generally okay with the fact that if their child was on a particular team, they could not be the leader of that team. I got a few arguments, but James just straightened up and put his hand on his sword. He was at least six-two and was quite an imposing figure.

  My hero.

  I carefully recorded all the start times. Sometime in the next forty-five minutes or so, teams who had collected all the clues would check in at the old firehouse, where the incorruptible Sam Kinali would mark their finish time. As soon as all the teams checked in, the adding and subtraction would begin. Until then, I could sit back and relax.

  Or not.

  About thirty minutes into the hunt, while I was checking in the last of the teams, Carol Anderson sent me a text.

  Mr. Scarecrow is very popular, but left for bathroom break 15 mins ago. Have u seen him?

  Cait and Kyle were down at the school bus stop helping Marie Wu get down the dill pickles hanging in her tree. I had put them up there myself, forgetting that Marie was barely five feet tall. She was having a hard time reaching them and didn’t want any other adult to mess around with her clues. I didn’t blame her, but now I was runnerless.

  “James, could you go up to Emma’s, and see if you can find Mr. Scarecrow? He’s apparently taken an extended pee break.” I was sweating beneath my costume. I was a tea bag, which meant I was wearing a huge muslin bag stuffed with oak leaves, with a red Lipton tag dangling from my neck.

  He straightened his sash, or cloak or whatever he had draped dramatically over his broad shoulders, and headed off. Vivian watched him walk away. I did too. It was something to see.

  “Hot man in a kilt,” she breathed.

  “Amen, sister,” I said, and handed out the last of the clues to the very last team. I sat back and sighed. “Thanks, Viv.”

  She reached into her tote bag to pull out a thermos. “Gin?” she asked, then proceeded to pull out two martini glasses, a jar of olives, and made us each a very tasty martini, which hit me like a ton of bricks coated in fairy dust.

  James appeared and confirmed that Mr. Scarecrow had returned. Viv found another glass and poured him a drink as well. It was getting dark, and a little cooler, and the three of us were having quite the evening.

  “Is that the kilt of your clan?” I asked James.

  He nodded. “Yes. I could give you my entire clan history, from about the twelfth century, if you’d like.”

  I shook my head. “That’s okay. Some other time. So we did a great job here tonight, thanks so much. You’re becoming part of the neighborhood, James.”

  He held out his glass for another drink, and Vivian poured carefully.

  “Yes.” He ran his fingers through his dark hair and pulled it so it stood up on end. “It’s nice to feel a part of something.” He smiled. “And the people here are terrific.”

  I tried not to grin, and was seriously considering another drink when I got a text from Sam. The first of the teams had arrived at the finish line.

  I hauled myself up and shook out my tea leaves. “Gotta go.” I gathered my clipboard and phone, and started down the hill, leaving James and Vivian sitting comfortably, glasses in hand.

  Tessa and her team did not win. They didn’t even come close, because Jerome misunderstood one of the basic rules of the hunt and ate all four of the mini-muffins that were in fact Clue #6. One team of older girls lost one of their members when she took off with her boyfriend and missed checking in to all but three checkpoints. There were a few more minor tragedies, but all in all, everyone seemed to have enjoyed the scavenger hunt very much. Mr. Scarecrow received mixed reviews. While some parents applauded his juggling and general goofiness, other parents complained that he did nothing but play Simon Says and sing silly songs. The scavenger hunt winners were announced, then the winners of the Costume Contest.

  Tessa and her friends won First Place, Group Division.

  At that point, I was fairly done with the evening. Cait and Kyle agreed to go back to the house to give out candy, while Sam and I walked around making sure all of our checkpoints had been cleaned up for the night. We saved Emma for last, because I knew she would need the most help.

  Poor Emma. We found her sitting on her porch, her cat, Biscuit curled on her lap.

  “Ellie, dear, I haven’t the energy to do another thing.” Her long gray hair had been pulled up in a bun, but it was now tumbling down around her face, adding to her usual crazy cat lady vibe.

  “Can we leave the table and chairs in here?” I called from her garden.

  “Please don’t,” came a faint reply.

  I looked at Sam. “I borrowed these from the clubhouse, and it’s locked up. I guess I can get the car and move them up to my house for the night?”

  He shook his head. “You look beat. Let’s call it quits. Why don’t we just move them next door? Then we can take them up to the clubhouse in the morning with my car.” Sam drove a Suburban, which technically, was kind of a car, but more of a moving van.

  “Good idea.” Next door was Aggie Martin’s house. It was dark and empty now, the “For Sale” sign planted bravely out front. “We can just stash everything on the porch. That puts it all out of the way.”

  Sam and I started closing up the folding chairs. Emma had hung paper lanterns everywhere, and the cider bowl was empty. The trashcan was full of empty paper cups, and broken pieces of doughnuts scattered the ground. Her spooky sound machine was blaring from the corner, emitting loud shrieks and hollow laughter.

  “Here, let me help,” Carol Anderson called, coming in from the street. Carol and Emma were good friends, and I knew that she had been helping earlier with Emma’s station. She grabbed two chairs. “Where are we putting these?”

  “Thanks, Carol. On Aggie’s porch. How did it go here?”

  “Great. Mr. Scarecrow was a big hit. He had some great tricks. But he bolted out of here as soon as the last kid left. He didn’t even take off his mask, he was in such a hurry. Did he even get paid?”

  I shrugged. “Mary Rose will see to it, I’m sure.”

  Carol carried the chairs out, and Sam and I turned the folding table over. One of the legs was jammed, and after three seconds of struggling, I threw up my hands. “Help, I need a big, strong man.”

  Sam laughed. “If I see one, I’ll send him over.”

  I put my hands on my hips. “Oh, ha-ha.”

  He kicked at the leg, and it folded obediently. “There. Anything else?”

  I looked over his shoulder. Carol was back. Her face was white.

  “Ah…”

  “What? Carol, what’s wrong?”

  She closed her eyes. “It’s Mr. Scarecrow. He never left at all. He’s lying on Aggie’s porch. I think he’s dead.”

  Sam moved quickly, and I was right behind him. Out of the garden and around to Aggie Martin’s front walkway.

  I stopped and watched as Sam walked cautiously up the steps. He stepped past the folding chairs that Carol had propped under the window. He was looking down, into the dark, far corner of the porch.

  “Sam?” I called.

  He had his phone out. “Yes. He’s dead. Don’t come up here.” He spoke into his phone. I could feel Carol behind me, her hand on my shoulder.

  “Well?” she whispered.

  I shook my head.

  Poor Mr. Scarecrow.

  Chapter 3

  It was after midnight, and I found myself in the highly unim
aginable position of being Mary Rose’s best friend in the world. Carol and I had walked down with one of the first police officers to arrive at the scene to tell her what happened. As it happened, her brother, Steve, and his wife, Kim, were there. Apparently, they had been there all evening. They had arrived after Todd and Doug, had been out and about looking at the decorations, and had stayed for dinner. I had met them both over the course of past Mt. Abrams events. They had helped Mary Rose with last year’s St. Patrick’s Day Pancake Breakfast and had stood next to me, doling out green pancakes and bacon. I didn’t know either of them well, but my heart broke for them nonetheless.

  Mary Rose immediately broke down and had not stopped crying. Sometimes it was just a broken sobbing. Sometimes in was full out bawling. She kept grabbing my hand and thanking me for being with her. Her husband Joe made phone calls and brewed endless pots of tea, which Mary Rose drank between bursting into tears and running to the bathroom.

  Kim, Todd’s mother, didn’t cry at all; she just…shrank. She huddled into a corner of the couch, her face white and blank. Only her eyes showed her anguish at the loss of her youngest son. Steve’s face was also a blank. He sat next to her, holding her hand, not saying a word.

  What could he say?

  The night had become surreal.

  Doug finally arrived. He had been tracked down at a club in Hoboken, and got to his aunt’s house after eleven. Mary Rose’s living room was bursting with family and friends, not to mention two police officers that were taking statements from the family. Sam had been there earlier and suggested quietly that everyone might want to go to the police station. Mary Rose stopped crying long enough to insist that she could not allow her family to be dragged into a cold, impersonal room to be questioned, when obviously what they needed was the warmth and support of familiar surroundings.