“How did they do that?” Max asked, pointing at the figures.
Art rubbed his hands together, grinning. He seemed to genuinely enjoy playing his part. “Chicken wire sprayed with glow-in-the dark paint. Then they’re suspended from the branches with fishing line. Aren’t they marvelous? The high school art class made them.”
Max and Lil followed him through the garden, stopping to examine ghouls and monsters around every turn and exposed with dramatic lighting.
At the back, an antique armchair sat under a small lattice arch that was draped with cobwebs. Art sat in the chair and opened his book. Again, lights hidden in the foliage near the ground created frightening shadows on his face. The thin clouds sailed past the new moon and added to the eerie lighting.
“Great effect,” Max said.
Lil nodded. “The kids will love it. We better get back and get ready to work. We don’t want to get fired on our first day.”
Art laughed. “You son’s a tough boss. I’ll see you later.”
The women returned to the front porch and took their places at the table. Max shivered a little at the effects of the mood lighting, bats swooping from the porch roof, and unearthly sounds all around them from hidden speakers. People came in pairs and groups up the path to the house. Some of the kids were in Halloween costumes even though Trick or Treat was still over a week away.
The special effects worked, based on the number of kids who clung to their parents’ hands or hid behind them. The crowd continued throughout the evening, and Max heard several kids ask parents if they could come back again. The haunted house project was a rousing success.
About halfway through the evening, a large thirty-something man came out on the porch, trailed by two young girls in full police uniforms. He carried a large bundle of black cloth. Max remembered selling him tickets earlier.
“Is Mr. Garrett around?”
Lil’s mouth dropped open, and she stammered “Mr. Garrett?” Then she laughed. “Oh, I’m sorry! You mean Terry, my son.” She hesitated and went on. “‘Mr. Garrett’ to me means my husband, Terry’s father, and he’s been gone for several years. It just took me back—” The young man began to look rather impatient. “I’m sorry. I’m babbling. I’ll find him.”
She hurried in the house to hide her embarrassment. Terry and Camille were in the kitchen, replacing a couple of burned out candles in the wall sconces.
“Terry, there’s someone out front who wants to see you. I’m sorry—I didn’t ask his name. A big man, has two little girls in police uniforms.”
Terry laughed. “That’s Josh Mansell, our new police chief. I noticed he has his girls dressed as patrolmen.” He led the way back to the porch and Lil and Camille followed.
When they got outside, Terry made introductions. “Josh, this is my mother, Lillian Garrett, and my aunt, Max Berra. Max—Josh Mansell is our new police chief.”
Josh nodded at each of them. “Nice to meet you.” He held up the bundle of black cloth. “The girls found this behind one of the doors upstairs.”
“We were investigating,” the older girl said with a little swagger.
Josh carefully unfolded the bundle and held up a nun’s habit with a large white collar.
Camille gasped.
“What? What’s wrong?” Terry asked her.
Camille recovered herself and gave a weak smile. “It just reminded me of a robbery we had at the bank, maybe five years ago? The robber was dressed like a nun. He—or she—was never caught.”
“I wasn’t here then,” Josh said, “but Dave Bender was, and he’s told me about it. That’s why I wondered if you knew why this was up there.”
“You mean, you think this is actually the one the robber wore?” Camille asked. “I don’t remember if this house was empty then or not. It’s probably been about that long, but I would have to check the records. It was part of an estate, and the bank was the executor. There were no heirs, and the rest of the estate went to the library. But we could never get the house sold.”
Terry said, “We were in such a hurry to get the house ready that we didn’t pay much attention to the closets unless we needed to hide something in one.”
“What is the white dust all over the habit?” Max asked.
Chief Mansell looked at the garment. “Plaster dust, I think. There are lots of places in the closets where plaster has fallen. We’ll compare this against the security tapes of the robbery and see if it looks like the same one.” He smiled at Terry. “Other than that, it’s a great haunted house.”
At 9:30, Terry appeared on the porch.
“Time to close up. I’ll turn off the lighting and sound equipment. How did it go?” He eyed the moneybox that Max was sorting and counting bills into.
“The turnout has been fantastic,” Lil said. “How did the kids do?” During the evening, Ren and Rival curled up in the bunk beds in the playroom disguised in white make up, and jumped out as people walked around the room.
“I think they had the time of their lives. Nothing better when you’re a kid than scaring the bejeezus out of adults.”
The screen door slammed, and a small but firm voice said, “I don’t think you should say that word, Dad.” Ren, her hair and face covered in grayish-white powder, looked up at him with the sternness of a reform school matron. Several of the adults hid their smiles.
Rival was right behind her. Terry decided distraction was the best course of action and said, “Why don’t you help Granny Lil and Aunt Max put their table and money box away?”
The kids folded chairs and the table.
“Rival scared his girlfriend,” Ren teased.
“She’s not my girlfriend!”
“Is so. Is so. An’ ya know what, Granny Lil? You can make a really weird noise if you blow across the edge of a piece of a paper.”
Rival dragged one of the folding chairs toward the door. “We need some candy or somethin’ up there. We get hungry when we’re working so hard.”
“I’ll ask the Board.” Terry held the door for his son
“I don’t think a board will help...” Rival’s voice trailed off as he disappeared into the house, the metal chair still clanging on the floor.
Art Carnel followed Rival back out to the porch. He whipped his cape around in front of him and twirled an imaginary mustache. “Success! The audience laughed, they cried, they screamed, they were at the edge of their seats--or they would have been if they were sitting down.”
“Great!” Terry said. “I heard lots of good comments. Kids, time to get in the car. We’ll have another big night tomorrow night so we need to rest up. Your mom already left and I believe she has treats ready at home.”
The kids whooped and raced for the car. Max and Lil both dozed off on the ride back to Terry’s in spite of the children’s excitement.
As promised, Melody had cups of hot chocolate and monster cookies ready for them on the porch. Ren and Rival took center stage, as usual, with their accounts of the successful night. Max and Lil said their goodnights and were only too pleased to head to their comfortable quarters.
Max woke the next day with Rosie’s hot breath in her face. She rolled over and looked at her watch. It was an hour past her usual wake-up time—no wonder the dog was getting concerned. She pulled on a sweat suit and sneakers and led Rosie out the back door into the yard. The dog got her chores done and then broke into her ‘crazy dance.’ She leapt and whirled, snapping at imaginary nemeses in the air. She finally loped aback to Max and looked at her expectantly.
“It’s a good thing you’re beautiful, girl, because you sure don’t have much for brains. You’ll have to wait until my bathroom chores are done and then we’ll go for a walk.”
At the word ‘walk’, Rosie’s ears went up, and she cocked her head.
“Not now,” Max said and led the dog back inside. By the time she came out of the shower and redressed, Lil was up and ready for the day. Rosie pranced to the door and back until Max opened the door to the porch. She could hear voices in the
kitchen so headed that direction. Melody and Terry supervised an eager Rival as he flipped pancakes at the stove.
Lil had followed. “Wow, Rival, you’re cooking breakfast?”
“Yup.” He had a large denim apron on already covered with grease spots and batter. Max would have been willing to bet that it did not look like that when Melody put it on him.
“Do I have time to take Rosie on a little loop around the neighborhood?” Max asked.
Melody rolled her eyes. “I think you have plenty of time. We’re putting the finished pancakes in the warmer anyway.”
“Can I go with you?” Ren asked.
“Sure. It’s kind of chilly so you’d better get a jacket.”
By the time Ren returned, Max had the leash hooked to Rosie’s collar and they exited the front door. As they went down the front walk, Ren asked, “Can I hold the leash?”
Max hesitated. “You can try. She’s strong and if she tries to take off, you may not be able to hold her. She’s pretty good most of the time.”
Things went well for a while. They walked back down to the creek and watched the water. Rosie located a toad hiding in the rocks. Max pulled the dog back while Ren crouched down to examine the toad.
The loop included a small park and playground. But on their way back, a gray squirrel raced across the sidewalk, and Rosie bounded after it, jerking Ren’s arm. Max managed to grab the leash just in time and, along with a command in a firm voice, convinced the dog that the squirrel was not in the cards today.
“We’d better head back or we’ll miss the pancakes,” Max said, and Ren readily agreed.
It was a quiet morning after breakfast; everyone seemed a little bleary-eyed. Terry had to work since the bank was open Saturday mornings. He arrived home at noon to find them all quietly occupied on the porch.
“What a well-behaved bunch. Mom and Aunt Max, Camille asked if you would be interested in a ride in the country this afternoon? It’s a great day, and there’s some drives around here that are particularly beautiful this time of year.”
Lil smiled. “How thoughtful of her. I’d love to. Max?”
Max considered. “Why not?”
“She said she would pick you up at 1:00 unless we call and tell her differently. I’ll get some lunch going,” Terry said.
“I’m going to change.” Lil closed her magazine and got up. Max soon followed.
Camille drove a small SUV. Lil took the passenger seat and Max got in back.
“We’ll drive up north to the little town of Harvest. They’re having an apple festival today and will be selling homemade apple butter, pie, caramel apples—everything apple you can think of.”
“Yum,” Lil said. “This is so nice of you.”
Camille laughed. “Nothing like a road trip with a couple of interesting women, right?”
Max leaned forward. “Camille, have you always lived in Burnsville?”
“No, I grew up in Pittsburgh. I went to Vassar and got a job in a New York bank. I met my husband there, but the marriage didn’t last. After the divorce, I wanted out of the city. Took my maiden name back and the job here. That was twenty-five years ago, and I love it here. Totally different life.”
“I don’t mean to be nosy,” said Lil, which Max knew was exactly what she meant to be, “but is Art a serious relationship?”
Camille didn’t seem offended. “I think not as much as he would like. But he’s a fun companion. And he’s as loyal as a new puppy. But I’m perfectly happy with my life the way it is.”
“Did you hear anymore from the police about the nun’s habit?” Max asked.
Camille grew serious. “Yes, Chief Mansell called this morning and said it looks like the same style.” She shook her head. “It’s really odd—not a clue in all of these years and then that turns up. I did check the bank records, and the house has been empty that long.”
They discussed jobs and families the rest of the drive, taking breaks to admire the fall colors. Camille pulled over twice at lookouts so that they could snap some photos.
Max commented after one such stop, “It always amazes me how much of this country is wooded. Coming originally from the plains of southern Minnesota where trees are the exception, I love these drives.”
They drove into Harvest and found a parking spot on a side street near the busy downtown area.
Vendors lined the street under colorful canopies. The smell of spicy cooked apples wafted through the air. Banjo music came from the other end of the block accompanied by clapping and foot stomping.
They wandered along, tasting apple treats, touching handcrafted items, and listening to mountain music. Camille was a pleasant and informative companion. Lil purchased a rag rug in shades of red and gray, and Max found a hand-knit sweater to her liking. Max had just purchased a caramel apple when Camille pointed out a little quilt shop on a side street.
“I’m not a quilter, and they probably wouldn’t let me in with this anyway.” Max waved the apple on a stick. “I’ll just wait for you on this bench. Don’t hurry.”
She sat on a small iron bench overlooking Main Street and settled in to watch the people. A juggler in a clown costume held court with a group of kids and adults in the middle of the street. Dozens of people sat at picnic tables under a large open tent devouring apple pancakes being cooked by one of the community service groups. Off to the side, a woman dressed in a colonial costume demonstrated to several interested watchers how to make an apple head doll.
Max savored the sweet caramel and tart apple of her own treat, frequently licking her lips and fingers, while trying to keep from dripping the caramel on her pants. As she tilted her head to one side in an effort to stop a large glob of caramel from falling, she caught sight of a familiar face.
Art Carnel stood at the back of the crowd around the juggler, and hanging on to his arm was a redheaded woman. She pointed at the juggler, said something to Art and giggled, then buried her face in his arm. Maybe Art wasn’t as loyal a puppy as Camille believed.
Max glanced back at the side street. No sign of Lil and Camille yet. Perhaps the woman was a sister or close cousin? She shouldn’t jump to conclusions.
Max finished the apple and wrapped the stick in her napkin. After she threw it in a nearby bin, she turned back to the juggler crowd. Art Carnel was whispering in the redhead’s ear. Max shrugged and walked over to a rack of apple festival sweatshirts. As she picked one out, she noticed Lil and Camille coming toward her, both with large shopping bags and laughing. She glanced over her shoulder again at the juggler but saw no sign of Art.
“Looks like a successful visit.”
Lil opened her bag to display a kaleidoscope of fabrics in bright citrus colors. “I need to do a quilt for Ren. I made Rival a Star Wars one a couple of years ago, but haven’t done one for her. I’ll show you the pattern when we get back to the house.”
Max nodded. “Nice. What about you?” She turned to Camille.
“Wellll…” she pulled open her bag. Blues and browns in geometrics and plaids predominated. “I’m going to make a lap quilt.”
“Great colors,” Max said.
“It’s for Art,” Lil said in a singsong, teasing voice.
Max’s eyebrows went up. “I thought it wasn’t a serious relationship.”
“It isn’t,” Camille insisted. “I would do the same thing for any friend. I have, in fact. I really enjoy quilting but don’t have any kids or grandkids, so I do them for friends.”
Max pursed her lips and nodded. There wasn’t much she could say to that; it made sense. She wouldn’t mention seeing Art with the redhead.
The busy evening was a repeat of Friday night, working at the haunted house. The wind picked up just enough to cause the bare branches in the tallest trees to creak and rub in protest, adding to the atmosphere.
Again, a good crowd took advantage of the dry weather to visit—many of them repeat customers whom Max recognized from the night before.
As they were finishing up, Camille Bamfo
rd came up the sidewalk. “Is Terry around?”
“He’s usually in the living room, seeing who he can scare,” Lil said. “Is something wrong?”
“No, just a change of plans.” Camille helped put pencils and entry slips for the drawing back in a box. “The bus tour that was coming Monday afternoon will actually be arriving tomorrow and staying at the bed and breakfast outside of town. They wondered if they could tour tomorrow night instead, since the effects are much better at night. I’ll talk to him. Maybe we could shorten the public hours and give them a special tour at nine o’clock.”
They carried the supplies and chairs into the house. Terry was turning off the lights and remotes. Camille explained the situation.
Terry pulled a printed schedule out of his back pocket and opened it. “I don’t see why that wouldn’t work. We might need our volunteers to stay a little later than usual.” He raised his eyebrows and looked at his mother and aunt.
“No problem,” Lil said and then grinned. “As long as we get naps in the afternoon.”
“I think we can arrange that.”
Melody had followed them in from the hall, resplendent in her witch costume and green makeup. “That’s an excellent idea.”
“Mel’s always amenable to a nap.” Terry hugged his wife with one arm. “At least if they’re staying at the Inn, Wendell Welter should be mollified a little. He owns the Inn and was very opposed to the haunted house idea. Thought it was tacky,” he explained to Max and Lil. “And we want to keep him happy. The improvements to the Inn have really benefitted the town and tourism. He even got an award from the Chamber. So, I’ll talk to the others who are still here, and call the rest of the volunteers in the morning.”
“That’d be great.” Camille smiled. “Thank you, Terry. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
Chapter Five
Max
Sunday dawned another beautiful day. Max and Lil both slept in. When they got up, Rosie was absent from their bedroom and greeted them with her usual exuberance when they got out to the porch.
The Mystery Sisters series Box Set Page 14