Pumpkin Picking with Murder

by Auralee Wallace

  “Thanks.” I paused a moment. “Can I ask you another question? A legal one this time?”

  “Sure.”

  “When I do, though … can you maybe not read too much into it? Or tell anyone I asked?”

  He considered me for a moment then nodded.

  “Is it illegal to tape a conversation without one of the parties knowing?”

  He caught my eye and held it before saying, “New Hampshire has very strict recording laws. It is one of only twelve states that require the consent of both parties.”

  “Right. Right,” I said with a nod. “But what about loopholes?”

  He narrowed his gaze. “I am becoming increasingly uncomfortable with this conversation.”

  “Oh,” I said, reaching a hand toward him. “Don’t worry I’d never implicate you—”

  “No. I’m worried about your physical safety, and mine,” he said, jerking a thumb back toward the lodge, “should your mother find out I was advising you.”

  “I hear ya,” I said with a nod. “But just … aren’t there expectation-of-privacy loopholes?”

  He shook his head. “The law is pretty clear.”

  I sighed. “Thank you.” Freddie and I would obviously have to think of something else.

  Another moment passed.

  A crow cawed in the distance.

  “So four point five million?”

  “Four point five.”

  “Do I want to know which charity she donated it to?”

  “You do not.”

  * * *

  I called Freddie after I had spoken with my uncle. He hadn’t come up with any ideas yet on how to trap Mr. Sullivan, and I was starting to feel pretty desperate. I took a long walk around the island waiting for my Eureka moment, but it never came.

  One day left. It wasn’t enough time.

  I grabbed some food from the fridge and went to bed early. I felt bad leaving Uncle Jack alone with my mom and the guests for a silent dinner, but I was just too worried to make polite non-conversation.

  I spent a good three, four hours lying on my bed staring up at my ceiling trying to think of something, anything, that would help, but beyond going over to the mainland and trying to shake the truth out of Mr. Sullivan and/or Mrs. Masterson, I had nothing. Not to mention, Grady wouldn’t be able to use those confessions in court either. Stupid law. I couldn’t even entertain fantasies of busting Tweety out of jail. I’d seen Rhonda wrestle back in high school. She could take me. Besides, Tweety would never leave Kit Kat to take the blame.

  At some point I must have dozed off because it was two a.m. when my phone buzzed.

  I cracked an eye open and looked at the screen.

  Text from Freddie.

  I straightened up in bed. Maybe he had an idea.

  Okay, I really have to ask you this now.

  I rubbed my eyes. That didn’t exactly sound like an idea. What?

  Do you believe in ghosts?

  I sighed. Definitely not an idea. Why?

  A noise woke me up, and when I looked outside, there was a pumpkin person standing on the end of my dock.

  I jerked up straighter and looked around my room. For what, I don’t know. Are you sure?

  It was foggy. But I think maybe it was Mr. Ramsbottom’s ghost.

  I sighed again and typed, Go to sleep, Freddie.

  He obviously didn’t take my suggestion seriously because my phone buzzed a second later. Have you thought of a plan?

  No. You?

  No. But all the terror has all my neurons firing. I’ll have one soon. Promise.

  I shook my head and smiled. ’Night, Freddie.

  Oh sure, yeah. I’ll be getting lots of sleep now.

  I tossed my phone on the bed and got up. I doubted I was going to be able to fall back asleep either. Maybe my mom had some of that tea Mrs. Masterson liked. I threw a heavy sweater over my shoulders and padded down the hall. The light in the kitchen was already on.

  “Mom?”

  She was seated at the table, hands wrapped around a mug. She looked up at me, face etched with concern. I guess everybody was up worrying tonight. She waved a hand for me to sit before getting up and moving to the cupboard.

  “Can’t sleep either, huh?”

  She smiled sadly and passed me a mug of steaming liquid. Mm, chamomile. She then held up a finger and disappeared down the hallway. A moment later she returned with some delicate white fabric in her hands.

  I raised an eyebrow in question. “What’s that?”

  She held it up for me.

  “Is … is that a christening gown?”

  She smiled and nodded.

  “Um … my christening gown?” It felt strange even to say the words. My mother was not one for organized religion.

  She set the fabric down on the table then began … folding back the air around it? Next she put her hands to her face in mock surprise.

  “It was a gift,” I said.

  She nodded again and pointed in the direction of the twins’ cottage.

  “Oh.” I picked up the dress and turned it over in my hands. Somehow the delicate material made me think about just how difficult it must have been raising a child—on an island no less—without a partner or family. My mom had always said she couldn’t imagine how she would have gotten by without the twins. But she said it in her airy, flighty way. I didn’t really give it much thought … until now.

  Suddenly I looked up to see my mother’s hands flailing about. Hmm, I guess while I had been looking at the dress, my mother had been miming something. I couldn’t be sure, but given her exaggerated smile, the imaginary baby she was holding in her arms, and all the gesturing to the sky, I was willing to bet she was acting out the story of my baptism into nature. I just smiled at her and nodded when I thought she might be through. I really didn’t see the need for her to repeat all that.

  “So,” I said a moment later, changing the subject. “I had a talk with Uncle Jack today.”

  My mom scowled and dropped her imaginary baby on the floor.

  “He, uh, didn’t quite come off as the—what did you used to call him? Soulless money maggot?—you’ve made him out to be.”

  She huffed some air through her nose, which, if we were going to get technical about it, kind of sounded like a noise to me, but I didn’t want her to try to stop breathing to prove a point.

  “He actually seemed really kind of eager to help.” I leaned back into my chair. “And he mentioned he’d like to, uh, mend some fences with his big sister.”

  My mother shot me a dry look.

  “I couldn’t help but think, seeing as you’re all about forgiveness and family reunification, that maybe you should hear him out, you know, without flipping him the bird.” I shrugged. “Say something if you disagree.”

  The barest of smiles touched the corner of her mouth.

  “I really would love the chance to say a few things, Summer.”

  I spun around in my chair to see my uncle standing in the threshold.

  “Couldn’t sleep,” he offered.

  My mother got to her feet, stood there a moment, then moved to the cupboard to get yet another mug.

  “Well,” I said, pushing my chair back. “I’ll give you two some privacy.”

  “Erica,” he said, following me into the hall. “Before you go … about our conversation earlier.”

  “Yes?”

  “Well, not that I want to encourage you doing … anything, but…”

  “But what?”

  “If you were looking for a loophole, public cameras might be it.”

  I nodded, immediately thinking of the tapes. “Yeah, I’ve given that some thought, but there aren’t exactly a lot of street cams in Otter Lake.”

  My uncle shook his head. “You’d be surprised how many cameras there are in public places these days. And when, as you mentioned, there is no expectation of privacy, well, the law becomes a little muddier. You would still need a subpoena to get the footage, but it’s legal … ish.”
r />   I leaned my shoulder against the wall as I thought about it. “But you’re still saying I can’t set up a camera myself?”

  “Not if you’re planning to trap someone with it. No.”

  I sighed. “Well, thank you for giving it some thought.” I took a step back then jerked a thumb toward the kitchen. “And good luck in there.”

  He chuckled. “Thanks. I’ll need it.”

  When I got back to my room, I picked up my phone and texted,

  Hey, I don’t suppose you’ve got any other cameras set up around town?

  A moment later, the reply came. No. Why?

  I let out a long exhale. Long shot. I then typed the briefest version I could of what my uncle had said.

  I waited for Freddie’s reply, but when it didn’t come right away, I got back into bed and pulled the cover over my shoulder, still holding my phone.

  After a few more minutes, I figured Freddie had just gone back to sleep. It was almost three. My eyes drifted shut. Maybe something would come to me in a dr—

  Suddenly my phone buzzed.

  I cracked an eye and swiped the screen.

  He said all public cameras were okay?

  I pushed myself up onto one elbow. Yeah, basically, with a subpoena, But we can’t plant one.

  We don’t have to.

  I sat all the way up in bed. Tell me this means you have a plan.

  Chills ran down my back as I waited for the reply.

  I have a plan.

  Before I could text back, he added, And it involves a Taser!

  I could feel my brow furrowing.

  I know how you feel about killing people.

  Chapter Forty-eight

  “In closing,” Mrs. Masterson announced, voice booming out from the speakers on the stage, “I just wanted to add that you all have reminded me tonight of the importance of tradition and community.”

  She was finally wrapping things up. I shook my fingers in the air before shoving them back into my pockets. It was a cold night. Hadn’t stopped the people from coming out, though. And that was good … witnesses were good. Made it seem less likely that I would, you know, die.

  “As you all know, this has been an incredibly difficult time for me personally. But the overwhelming love and support I have received from all of you has allowed me to be here tonight, as I have been for nearly fifty years. Otter Lake is so much more than a mark on a map. It’s even more than a community. We are a family.”

  A bunch of people nodded. A few murmured their agreement.

  I was standing in the crowd gathered for Mrs. Masterson’s speech, getting ready to launch phase one of the plan. Mr. Sullivan stood about thirty yards away. Front row and center. Just as we had anticipated. Guess that meant this was really happening … like really, really happening.

  “Our town events knit us together with unbreakable bonds, but they would not be possible without all of your hard work. So thank you once again to all of the volunteers. Your efforts have not gone unnoticed. Good night.”

  The crowd applauded, then fell in and broke apart. The rides would go on for at least a few more hours, but that was it. The end of another Fall Festival. I needed to hurry.

  My heart thudded in my chest as I popped into place the earbud Freddie had given me. “Hey? You there?”

  “I’m here. All’s a go.”

  “The speech is over,” I whispered back. “I’m moving in.”

  “Acknowledged. I’ll let Rex know.”

  My eyes darted over the crowd. Where did he go? For a second, I thought I had lost Mr. Sullivan, but then I spotted him trailing Mrs. Masterson … of course. She was walking with Matthew and another man holding a camera. I was pretty sure he worked for the town paper.

  I blew out the breath I had been holding then hurried forward.

  Go time.

  Basically, the plan was for me to confront Mr. Sullivan with the photo from the fair, tell him I knew about the letters, and goad him into a confession. It was our go-to move. Our theory was that if we played it just right, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from talking about his undying love for Mrs. Masterson. Unfortunately there were a number of tricky parts to the plan.

  Getting him alone was number one.

  I sidestepped some couples and small groups of people. Man, it was a busy night. If I wasn’t careful, I might lose this chance. I needed to get to him before he disappeared into the crowd.

  “Mr. Sullivan!” I called out when I was just a few feet back. He didn’t turn. “Mr. Sullivan!”

  He shot an annoyed look over his shoulder. “Erica, hello,” he said without breaking stride.

  “Can I speak to you a moment?”

  “No, I’m sorry. I need a word with—someone.”

  I quickened my pace.

  “Erica! I can see you,” Freddie hissed in my ear. “You’re letting him get away.”

  “I’m trying,” I muttered, pushing through more of the crowd. “He’s spritely.”

  “Well, at least you’re going in the right direction.”

  I looked up at the flashing Ferris wheel looming over me.

  And there was tricky point number two.

  Freddie’s big realization had come when he remembered the Ride Cam at the fair. It was the perfect way to tape Mr. Sullivan legally … sort of. Freddie had talked to Rex, and apparently he had no problem moving the video equipment from the Dead Zone ride to the one of the carts on the Ferris wheel … for fifty bucks. Now I just had to get Mr. Sullivan on it.

  “Mr. Sullivan, I really need to speak with you!”

  “What is it?” he asked, turning on me. “I’m busy.”

  I exhaled hard. “I thought you might like to go for a ride with me? On the Ferris wheel?”

  “That sounded weird, Erica,” Freddie whispered in my earbud. “I told you we should have practiced.”

  “That’s lovely for you to offer.” I could tell by his expression he thought it was weird too. “But as I’ve said, I’m busy.”

  “But I really need to talk to you.”

  “Not right now.”

  “Erica? Are you getting on? I don’t think he can hold the cart much longer.” I spotted Rex standing on the platform at the base of the wheel. He had stopped the line.

  “Mr. Sullivan, please,” I begged, reaching for his arm. “It’s a matter of life and death.”

  Suddenly someone stepped in front of me, forcing me to drop my arm … someone with a really large chest … and a badge.

  “Life and death, huh? I’d love to hear all about it.”

  Say hello to tricky point number three.

  I closed my eyes. “Grady.”

  “You know, there was a time,” he said, scratching his brow, “not too long ago when you said my name with affection and not like it was a four-letter word.”

  “Get rid of him!” Freddie shouted.

  “Grady, this really isn’t—”

  “A good time? I’m sure it’s not.” He planted his hands on his hips. “What’s going on, Erica?”

  I couldn’t lie anymore … but I couldn’t tell him either! I rose up on my toes and looked over his shoulder. Oh no. Mr. Sullivan had caught up to Matthew and his mother, and … she looked kind of uncomfortable. Not guilty uncomfortable. But the kind of uncomfortable that comes from having to stand too close to someone creepy. Frick.

  “Okay,” Grady said, taking a breath. “Why don’t we start with an easier question. Where’s Freddie?”

  “Don’t look over here,” Freddie said quickly. “Don’t look over—Gah! You looked over here.”

  Grady tracked my gaze then swore under his breath. “Tell me what you’re planning.”

  “Grady, I would, but … you’ll probably think you’ll have to stop it for some legal reason, but you don’t! Promise. And I swear to you this is our best, maybe only chance to clear the twins.”

  “Tell me.”

  I moaned, rising up on my toes again to look again over his shoulder at Sully.

  “Lis
ten,” Grady snapped, grabbing my attention back. “I know you told Rhonda to look into who came by the prison. And it just so happens that one of those people was Mr. Sullivan. The same Mr. Sullivan that you are trying desperately to get on that Ferris wheel. I don’t believe this is a coincidence, Erica.”

  I pulled my lips between my teeth.

  “Nor do I believe,” he said with a sharp point at the side of my head, “that that earbud you are wearing is a hearing aid.”

  I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing came out.

  Grady inhaled slowly then said, “Did you ever stop to think, Erica, that maybe I wanted to help? That maybe I could help?”

  “Grady, I—Matthew!” I lurched past Grady to one side to grab his arm. He was walking past us … without his mother. “Wait!”

  I glanced back up at Grady. Crap. He looked … something, but there was no time to think about that.

  “Where’s your mother?”

  “My mother?” Matthew asked with a smile. “She’s taking a ride on the wheel with Mr. Sullivan. The paper wanted a picture.”

  “Mr. Sullivan?”

  “Uh-oh,” Freddie said in my ear. “That wasn’t the plan.”

  “Yeah, he practically knocked me over trying to get to—Hey! Erica! Where are you—”

  I dodged past Matthew, launching into a sprint.

  “Erica! We’re not done here!” I heard Grady call.

  I ran to the metal fence, planted a hand on the railing, and hopped over.

  “Hey!” someone shouted. “Boobsie Bloom’s cutting the line.”

  “Really?” I shouted over my shoulder. “Really?”

  “Erica! What are you doing?” Freddie yelled.

  I ran up the few platform steps to Rex.

  “I tried to hold it for you—” I pushed past him and hopped into the next pod that was slowly pulling past the platform. “Hey! You can’t get on when it’s moving!”

  “Too late!” Once inside, I gripped the sidewalls and craned my neck to see up to the cart above. Shoot! I couldn’t see a thing. Damn these newfangled Ferris wheel carts with their high safety walls.

  “Um, Erica,” Freddie said in my ear. “I’m going to ask again. What are you doing?”

  “Mrs. Masterson got on the ride with Mr. Sullivan! She’s in danger.”

  “And you’re what?” Freddie asked. “Chasing after them?”