Pumpkins and Promises

by Elle Rush

  “The interview room would be great, Sheriff, thanks,” Mac said before Neil started on another rant.

  Aaron looked to the front door when it opened again. He was surprised to see Lucy Callahan. “Do you have a cottage on Shakespeare Drive too?” he asked. He hadn’t heard anything about her buying property in town. According to Roy, she was happily settled into her new apartment in Brooke’s building.

  “No.” She sounded as confused as he was.

  “Can you wait while I deal with this other situation? Or can someone else help you?”

  “I can wait.”

  With that problem solved for the moment, he waited for Poppy Zimmer to return with the file he requested before he entered the interview room. He set his painting on the chair, then turned to face the trio of Holiday Beach residents.

  He knew two well: Robert “Mac” Mackenzie, and Neil Dempsey. Sean Fitzpatrick owned Austen Cottage, but he didn’t visit Holiday Beach often.

  “Am I to understand that you’ve all had break-ins?” Aaron asked.

  “If you bothered to investigate when I complained to you last week, you’d know that we have,” Neil said.

  Poppy paused in the door and cleared her throat. The older woman had worked for the police department since before Aaron had joined the force. She knew everything that went on in Holiday Beach and was doubly respected in the community for keeping it all confidential. Rumors stopped dead in her presence. The woman was a Sphinx.

  Aaron took the file from her, slapped it on the table, flipped through the forms, and pulled out a single sheet of paper. “Here’s my report, filed after you accosted me in the Atlas. I investigated that night. I went to Austen Cottage. I did not find the glider swing covering on the property. I also inspected that building and found nothing amiss. I notified the owners of this by email, didn’t I, Mr. Fitzpatrick?”

  “You did, Sheriff Gillespie.”

  “Then, regarding the second part of your complaint, the next day I called Joe Piney to ask if he’d left the tires at the end of the driveway. He wasn’t available, so I spoke to his son, Gerald, who said his nephew had left the tires there when they were out last to check the cottage before winter. When I told him they were missing, he said it wasn’t a problem and that Joe Junior had put a free sign on them and was planning to have Tom’s Tows take them to the recycling centre if they didn’t go on their own. I also informed him that I’d made an exterior inspection of the cabin at that time and didn’t find any sign of a break-in. He said it wasn’t necessary to for me to investigate further.”

  “I didn’t know that,” Neil said.

  “So, you looked once and didn’t find a stolen item, so you stopped looking? What kind of police work is that?” Neil demanded. He looked like he was building to another rant, so Aaron cut him off.

  “Mac, I hadn’t heard you were having problems,” Aaron said, addressing the stocky, dark-haired man with more patience than he used in his recitation.

  “Neil said some things might have gone missing from my property. I checked before I came here this morning. All my tools are still in the container, and the lock hadn’t been tampered with.”

  “You told me some firewood had been stolen,” Neil argued.

  “I told you some wood had been taken. I also told you I’d given the sheriff’s son permission to take whatever he wanted from particular areas. I didn’t expect him to clear out the scrap pile, but I wasn’t going to complain about it. It’s less for me to get rid of later.”

  “So why are you here, Mac?” Aaron asked.

  “If someone is breaking into cottages along Shakespeare Drive, I’d like to know about it. I haven’t started building yet, but I’d like to keep an eye out for my neighbors,” Mac said.

  Now that Aaron knew the trouble was coming from one man, and that he hadn’t brushed aside news of a crime spree because he was on a date, he found it easier to regain his professionalism. “Let’s take a step back and look at this clearly. Right now, what we have is some scrap wood, assumed to be given away, free used tires taken with the owner’s blessing and potentially some missing firewood,” he added, remembering Neil’s original complaint.

  “And a tarp,” Neil added.

  “And a tarp. Mr. Dempsey, it’s commendable that you’re acting as a neighborhood watch, but nobody, including your wife, has reported anything stolen.”

  “What about my firewood? That’s stuff’s not cheap.”

  Although Aaron doubted Neil had bought a bag at the gas station when so much was lying around for free on his property, he wasn’t going to debate it. “You’re talking about five logs. That was according to your own statement. After last weekend, I feel it’s a logical assumption that it might have been burned by a member of your family, even it if wasn’t done at your cottage, wouldn’t you say?” Neil had been livid when he’d arrived at the station in the wee hours last Sunday morning to bail out his son. Aaron had expected more yelling, but upon hearing the damage the party had caused, Neil had been suspiciously quiet. He’d made up for it today, but Aaron wasn’t having any of it.

  He tried not to smile when he saw Mac rolling his eyes at this latest revelation. “I don’t have time for this,” the painter said. “If there’s a real problem, please let me know. As I said, I’ll keep my eyes open. In the meantime, I have painting to do. Doug’s waiting for me on a jobsite already.”

  Mac’s words gave Aaron an idea. “Speaking of painting, do you want to see the one Brooke made for me at Paint Night last night? I’m going to hang it in my office.” He set the painting on the table and dropped the sweater.

  There was a collective hiss at the reveal. Aaron kept the canvas facing them. The initial response from Mac and Sean quickly jumped from interest to shock. Neil went straight to horror. “Isn’t it terrific?” Aaron asked.

  “It’s…something,” Mac said.

  Aaron turned to face Neil, twisting the painting slightly so it moved with him. “Was there anything else you’d like to discuss this morning?”

  “Um. No.”

  “If you do discover anything is missing, please let me know. We all know that empty cabins can be an opportunity for thieves.”

  “I’ll, uh, do that,” Neil stammered. “I need to go.” He didn’t take his eyes off the painting as he backed out of the room.

  Aaron lay the canvas face down on the table. “I can’t believe that worked.”

  “What is that thing?” Sean Fitzpatrick asked with a nervous laugh.

  “That truly is a painting my girlfriend made for me. I am going to put it in my office,” Aaron said.

  “Brooke’s great, but did you lose a bet?” Mac asked. “Because it was watching me.”

  “I’m calling him Detective Hayseed. My son says it’s a confession extractor.”

  “He’s right,” Sean agreed.

  “He’s starting to grow on me,” Aaron said loyally. No matter how it looked, he knew Brooke had worked hard on it for him. The gift was a treasure; the side effects were an unexpected benefit. Besides, if he hung it behind his desk, he wouldn’t have to look at it when he was in his office. It would also ensure nobody overstayed their welcome.

  “I think I need to go too,” Mac said, slowly moving toward the door.

  “Seriously, if either of you see something odd, or if you have problems, let me know. Neil isn’t the most unbiassed witness in this case, but he’s not wrong to be concerned.”

  “I will,” Sean said before his escape.

  Aaron was grateful the situation was resolved before it became a real problem. Now that it was resolved, he had a chance to address a second topic. “Mac, do you have a second? How has Trevor been working as your landscaping assistant?”

  “Great. That kid of yours really likes wood. I had no idea when I asked him, but it’s a bonus for me.”

  “Is he behaving properly? Not goofing off?”

  “Not at all. He and Caleb work hard.”

  “Caleb?”

  “Caleb Quentin.
He’s the other teen I hired. He works his butt off too. If Trevor came back and collected the rest of that scrap lumber, you’ll have enough for bonfires all fall.”

  “We’ve already had one. Thanks for the update.”

  Mac shook his hand before he left, leaving Aaron with a good feeling about his son. Cutting down trees and building furniture wasn’t the future he’d envisioned for Trevor, but his son seemed to enjoy it and work hard at it. Aaron couldn’t ask for much more.

  He grabbed his painting and headed for his office but stopped when he saw Lucy waiting in the lobby. “Come on in, Lucy.”

  Deciding he’d terrified enough people with his painting for one morning, he set it on the floor before he settled behind his desk. “What’s up with you?”

  “I’m here as the manager of the Remington apartments. I have a problem.”

  He hadn’t expected this. “Do you want coffee?”

  “No, thanks.”

  “Then tell me what’s happening.”

  Her tale got weirder by the minute. Aaron knew that Lucy had started her job managing the three apartment blocks in May, replacing the previous caretaker after his retirement. From all the comments he’d heard, from the residents and the Franklins, who owned the buildings, she’d been doing a good job keeping the place clean, repaired, and functional. Her experience as a property maintenance manager at the Dew Drop Inn’s parent company had trained her to fix any number of problems. In less than five months, the Remington had gone from having vacancies to having a waiting list for their two-bedroom apartments.

  “The Quentin family. The lease was signed by Priscilla and Arthur, and they had one child listed as a dependent.”

  “Caleb.”

  “Right,” she said. “I hadn’t seen the parents in months. Since August, maybe. Their rent has been paid. Their lease expired at the end of September. I never heard back on my inquiries on whether or not they wanted to renew it. I assumed it was a yes, but they were late on the paperwork. I thought I’d get a check on October first, but nobody answered the door. They have ten days before late fees kick in. I knocked on their door on the tenth and it sounded weird inside, echoey, so I let myself in. They’re gone.”

  “Gone?”

  “Not a stick of furniture. No clothes. Nothing in the fridge. I didn’t hear a peep about them moving out.”

  “Was the place trashed? Will their damage deposit cover it?”

  “It was relatively clean. My problem is that I don’t know where to send the damage deposit. I’ve seen Caleb in passing around town, but I haven’t had a chance to ask him.”

  “Moving without notice isn’t a crime.”

  “I’m still concerned. Can you look into it? If only to find out where I should send their refund?” Lucy asked.

  The joys of small-town life meant that the lack of severe felonies gave him more time to investigate misdemeanors and even non-criminal events. “Fine, I’ll do it.”

  “Brooke’s right. You are the best. After Roy, of course.”

  “She said that?”

  “I probably shouldn’t have mentioned it.”

  No, she definitely should have mentioned it. “It’s fine. I’m happy to help.” Maybe this favor wouldn’t be such a hardship.

  Chapter 15

  Aaron stared at himself in the mirror. He ignored the sprinkling of white in his sandy brown hair at his temples and focused on the stitches across his throat. Trevor claimed to have a friend in the drama department who gave him tips on making fake wounds. Aaron’s old black suit, already well-worn but now with additional artistic rips and stains, was the perfect choice to go with his formal Frankenstein’s Monster look. The glued-on plugs at his neck sat above the frayed shirt collar so he didn’t have to worry about them rubbing off. Beneath that, his tie looked like it had been half-eaten by a shredder. He was a mess and couldn’t be more pleased about it.

  His birthday present from Trevor had been an afternoon of fishing. Having his son sacrifice a Saturday afternoon with his friends to hang out with his old man had meant a lot. Then Trevor had surprised him with a specific trip to his favorite spot even though it was on the far side of the lake. They hadn’t had any luck, but the point of fishing wasn’t always to catch fish. Aaron heard more about Woodlands Trades Institute and its apprenticeship programs. Both of them bemoaned how hard it as to date at their respective ages, although Aaron got some grudging respect for actually having a girlfriend.

  The rain started when they were packing up. It was coming down in buckets by the time they turned into their driveway, and the sky had turned from gray to nearly black.

  Trevor had hung around long enough to sample the catering Aaron had delivered. There was a new business in town, Norah’s Nosh, which had offered a deal to new clients that he couldn’t turn down. Aaron was willing to try somebody new if it meant he didn’t have to cook or clean up. So far, the sandwiches and dip were incredible. The cake, safely secured on the bottom shelf of his fridge, looked to be a delicious, gooey delight. He could have done without the little meringue ghost decorations, but Aaron knew this was the caterer’s chance to show off to potential new customers, so he left them in place. Except for the one Trevor had peeled off the corner and popped into his mouth.

  “Itch de lease you can do shinsh I’m not getting cate,” the kid had said through a mouthful of meringue.

  “I’ll make sure I save you a piece. This thing is filling the whole shelf. There will be leftovers.”

  “Too late.”

  When Brooke volunteered to come over early and help set up, Aaron offered to pick her up. He’d never had a co-host at one of his parties, and he thought Brooke would be excellent at it. Besides, he was game for anything that would give them more time together. Her super-early mornings and his late nights at the station were putting a serious crimp in their time together. It made being together tonight more special.

  She must have been waiting in the lobby, because she made it to the sidewalk before he had a chance to get out of the truck. Aaron burst into laughter when he saw her and was still chuckling when she climbed into the passenger seat.

  “How did I do?”

  “You’re perfect.”

  She’d dressed as a scarecrow. Specifically, Detective Hayseed. She had a boatman’s hat, which looked to be left over from a political rally a decade earlier, and wore a white shirt under a pair of blue overalls. Straw—“raffia,” she told him—was sewn onto the collar and stuck on the underside of the hat. She’d sewn more at the cuffs at her wrists, and her shoes were completely covered from the flapping beige strands at her ankles. What really made the costume were the thick, angry, grease-paint eyebrows she’d angled over her eyes. They made Groucho Marx’s look like amateur hour.

  “Now I regret having that painting at the station. We could have had a picture of you painting a self-portrait.” Some people wouldn’t get the joke, but enough of the invited guests had seen it to make her costume extra funny.

  “Your outfit is pretty good too. Are you ready for an onslaught of Frankenstein puns?”

  “Technically, I’m the monster,” Aaron said.

  “I know. A smart person knows Frankenstein wasn’t the monster. A really smart person understands Frankenstein was the monster,” Brooke told him.

  “That’s pretty deep for a birthday party.”

  “I have hidden scarecrow depths.”

  They arrived back at Aaron’s and immediately began prepping by placing bowls of chips strategically around the living room and dining room. He’d vacuumed under the cushions of the leather sectional and had tossed all the pillows and blankets into his bedroom for the night to maximize the space. The coffee tables were clear of flyers and magazines, and all the remotes for the electronics were in a basket on top of the shelving unit that housed the gaming consoles. Thanks to Trevor’s cleaning spree in September, the kitchen was still in good shape. The bathroom—Aaron tried not to think of what had been required in the bathroom, but it was guest-ready no
w.

  He wasn’t surprised when the first to arrive were the ones who had children at home. Tripp Turner and Habibah Gamal arrived as soon as the restaurant closed. Their one-year-old was with Tripp’s parents for the evening. Aaron was glad to see they were taking advantage of a night out.

  “May the Force be with you,” Aaron said in greeting. Habibah was in a full Stormtrooper uniform, a white scarf covering her hair and conveniently making it easier to put on and take off her helmet. Tripp looked like a bounty hunter who’d had seen better days, with his scuffed armor and bent laser rifle.

  “We heard you had cookies,” Tripp said.

  “Tripp, we did not come to sample the competition,” Habibah whispered.

  “We didn’t only come to sample the competition,” Tripp corrected. “But we did want to celebrate our friend’s birthday. Seeing the spread Norah Rail offers for a party is a bonus.”

  “We’ll pull the trays out in a minute,” Aaron promised. “In the meantime, the bar is on the dining room table.”

  Behind them was Owen Daye, who had only recently arrived in Holiday Beach to take over his grandfather’s antique store. Aaron had met him at a few events at the Escape Room, and they’d got along well enough for Aaron to invite the newcomer to his party so he could get to know more people in the community. Knowing Owen had a young son at home, Aaron asked, “I assume your little boy has the other half of your costume?” The thin blond man in the bandit’s mask and striped shirt with a dollar sign on his chest was a dead giveaway to needing a partner in crime, so to speak.

  “Richie is looking forward to Halloween and is very put out that I got to wear my costume first. Thankfully, Pops reminded him that he gets to wear his costume to daycare and to several parties, but I only get to wear mine to one. I also had to promise not to let the sheriff arrest me, because only Spidey was allowed to do that,” Owen said with a laugh.

  “Keep your hands off my silver candlesticks, and we won’t have any problems,” Aaron agreed.

  Brooke brought him a drink before she said hello to Roy Wagner and Lucy Callahan, who came as a couple from the 1920s. Roy’s dapper suit was well matched to Lucy’s flapper dress.