Organized for Masked Motives

by Ritter Ames

  “How in the world does someone pull off a sexy ghost?”

  “Beats me, but I obviously need to keep an eye on my little haute couture princess, as she seems to have ideas far above her elementary school age group.”

  “Oh, don’t believe it. Kids are bombarded with suggestive clothing. It’s a wonder we have any tomboys like Sam left.”

  “I hear ya,” Kate said. “I’ve been letting Suze watch too many cable shows to indulge her designing dreams. Now I’m paying the price for trying to be a supportive mother. Of course, I have my own Dancing with the Stars addiction too, which doesn’t help. I watch it for the dancing, but she probably only notices the costumes and doesn’t realize how much of the flesh tone she’s seeing is more spandex than skin.”

  “Always something to make us feel guilty.”

  They neared the entrance to the Wilton Apple Farm, and Kate signaled to turn.

  “Saw the van and figured you were coming for the apples,” Mrs. Wilton greeted them, holding out warm cups of cinnamon apple cider with her long, thin fingers.

  “We thought it would be quicker than multiple trips in my car,” Meg said, climbing from the passenger side and hurrying to grab a cup. “Oh, boy, this smells good.”

  Mrs. Wilton’s oldest sons took on the task of loading up the back of the van. As the women watched them work, Mrs. Wilton said, “If you need more apples, come on by and ask. If I’m not here one of the boys will mark it down on the form. Don’t you worry any. Take whatever you need, and I’ll get it squared away with the PTA later.”

  Kate sipped the spicy liquid and felt the warmth travel down to her toes. “Oh, Mrs. Wilton, this is wonderful.”

  “It is—naturally.” The woman’s grin stretched ear-to-ear with the compliment and her little pun. “We keep the cider mulling all the time through the winter. And right now, when our bodies still have a memory of summer, we sell even more of it than when we’re buried in snow.”

  “I don’t think I can remember a Halloween or Thanksgiving without Wilton spiced cider in our house,” Meg said. “Mother has always kept it warming on the stove so it’s ready to drink, and keeps her house smelling delicious.”

  “We love being a Hazelton tradition,” Mrs. Wilton said. Then she moved to the rear of the van. “Be careful how you set those, Joe. I don’t want fruit bouncing around Mrs. McKenzie’s van while she’s trying to drive.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” the dark-haired youth responded, reaching in to reset a basket.

  The boys made quick work of the loading, and Mrs. Wilton topped both the cups of cider before she let Kate and Meg leave, but soon they were on their way again toward the high school gym. Meg phoned the event coordinator as they drove, and when they arrived four football players stood waiting to unload the baskets and carry the fruit inside.

  “This is what I call service,” Meg said, as Polly Perkins, the PTA president, walked up to greet them.

  “We aim to please,” Polly said. Kate glanced at the clipboard the woman held and could see a number of check marks on the top page. Polly consulted the pages a moment then said, “Before I forget, I need to know what costumes you’re wearing, so you’ll be easier to spot during the carnival.”

  “I’m Wonder Woman and Gil is Superman,” Meg said.

  “And I’m Batgirl and my husband is Batman,” Kate added.

  Polly grinned. “Oh good. You don’t know how great it is to not have to hear another clown or witch is coming. I swear those seem to be everyone’s go-to costumes this year.” She finished writing on the page, then turned and waved an arm for them to follow. “The boys will take care of the apples. Follow me and I’ll give you assignments and issue your staple guns and masking tape.”

  The next couple of hours went quickly. Kate and Keith were set to man the “Haunted House” game, where blindfolded kids would wander in the direction of a large haunted house mural painted on a backboard, with Velcroed ghosts to hide the numbers. When the kids pulled off their ghosts and revealed the number beneath, Kate or Keith would pull a prize from one of the similarly numbered tubs hidden under a table. Meg and Gil were scheduled to man the duck pond in the middle of the gym floor. The kids could choose a rubber ducky, then turn it over to find a similar number system to determine their award.

  A crash amid construction activity in the far corner got their attention.

  “That’s where the ghost storyteller will be,” Polly said. “We’re calling it the Haunted Corner. I should go see what happened.”

  “Go ahead,” Meg said, and Kate nodded. “We’ll be fine here.”

  “Thanks, I appreciate your help,” Polly said, striking off toward the noisy corner as she added, “And feel free to call me if you have any questions or need anything for your booths.” Then she disappeared in the gym’s hive of worker bees and activities.

  “Sounds simple enough,” Kate said, taking a good look around as she and Meg attached sheeting to the outside perimeter of the booths.

  “It is, but you have to watch for crafty kids. Especially the older ones,” Meg said. “This is really set up for elementary age, but their older brothers and sisters often tag along, hang around the fringes looking for ways to have a little fun of their own. The tween boys cause the most trouble, with the tweenie girls there to giggle and egg them on. Nothing like a bored junior high kid to create a little chaos.”

  “Ah, I can imagine.” Kate looked at her watch. “It’s almost time to pick up the kids, and I think we’re finished here. You want to go check us out and I’ll get the seats in the van pulled back into position, so the kids have places to sit?”

  “Yeah, good idea. See you outside in a few minutes.”

  Kate headed for the door, pulling out her keys as she walked. Her phone buzzed, and she slipped it out of the back pocket of her jeans to find a text alert from UPS telling her Keith had a package on their front porch. “Well, he’ll be thrilled.”

  She looked up from the screen in time to avoid a near miss with someone else paying more attention to her phone than where she was walking.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, I—” Kate suddenly realized she knew the person she’d thought was a student. “Linda, hi. I didn’t recognize you for a minute.”

  Her words startled the new neighbor, and Linda dropped her phone, the plastic cover hitting the floor and sliding.

  Kate bent over and picked up the phone, handing it to the nervous woman.

  “Thanks, I ... just checking messages...” Linda frowned. “Don’t know why I bother. It’s never anything.”

  “Well, it’s good seeing you.” Kate felt her forehead furrow, and she forced a smile to keep the moment light. She pointed toward the far corner where even more people had joined in to figure out the construction problem. “If you’re looking for the event coordinator, Polly’s the one over there with the long ponytail.”

  “Yeah, okay...thank you.” Linda sketched a quick little wave and hurried in the direction opposite from where Polly stood. Toward the hall entrance into the school.

  Kate wouldn’t have thought much of it—except she’d seen the woman’s phone. The message read, “You can’t hide.”

  “WHAT DO YOU THINK IT means?” Meg asked, as they sat later in the parent circle of the elementary school, everyone waiting for their kids. Kate had already retold what happened.

  “I’m not sure, but she was really flustered,” Kate said. “I know she kind of seems naturally nervous, at least she was fidgety at her house after we got to talking about her living in Hazelton before. But she couldn’t get the phone away from me fast enough, and said she was just checking messages.”

  “Some message.”

  “I know.”

  The bell rang, signaling the end of the school day, and teachers began bringing kids from the building in groups and toward the waiting vehicles.

  “I’ll get out and walk up to make sure Ben’s teacher knows to let him go, too,” Meg said, letting in a blast of cold as she exited the passenger side of the van.<
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  Kate creeped the van forward, following the long loop of cars and SUVs. As she neared the load up point, Meg had all three kids waiting to leap aboard.

  “Mom! It’s so cold out there, and so warm in here,” Sam shouted as she tumbled into the backseat.

  “Yes, thank goodness the van’s heater can handle October weather in Vermont,” Kate said. “Everyone hurry and get inside.”

  Ben was the last one in, and as he scrambled into the far rear seat, Meg slammed the cargo door and opened hers to climb into the passenger side. “Brrr.”

  “Got that right.” Kate put the vehicle into gear and pulled forward. “Hey, Suze, slide on over next to your sister so Mark can get in without having to crawl over you.”

  “He can sit back here with me,” Ben called.

  “Well, we’re almost there,” Kate said, turning into the loop for the upper elementary pick up point. “And I see Mark already waiting.”

  “He’s going to be a popsicle,” Meg said, frowning. She leapt out again at the stop and hurried her older son into the van.

  Mark dove into the spot between the two girls and belted up. He took off his new glasses and wiped at the lenses with his nylon coat. “They’re all fogged up, and I can’t get them clean again.”

  “Use your shirt,” Meg said, returning to the van. “I’ve told you not to try to use anything polyester or nylon.”

  “I wouldn’t have this problem if you and Dad would get me contacts.”

  “A discussion for another time, young man,” Meg said. Kate looked over and lifted a questioning eyebrow. The redhead gave a tiny shrug.

  Kate moved the van forward. “Well, let’s head home to hot chocolate.”

  After a unison of “yeses,” including one from Meg, Ben piped up again, “Can we drive through town on the way home and look at the decorated windows again?”

  “Good idea. They’ll be coming down soon.”

  Main Street of Hazelton found its own ways to involve its citizens and draw visitors to the town. Once the last of the autumn leaf tours left with the first snow, Hazelton readied for the Halloween season by letting the younger school kids compete in window wars with ghostly and ghoulie displays. The local children dreamed up fun designs for the shop windows then decorated with zeal, and a grand prize went to the winning team. Ice cream gift certificates were consolation prizes to the other participants. All the merchants signed on for the contest, and teams of elementary students decorated the windows with paint and paper.

  “Look! There’s the library’s window my class worked on,” Samantha said.

  A few windows down and it was Suzanne’s turn to point and shout out. “We did the window on the market.”

  “My class did the hardware store,” Ben cried. “See, there’s the hammer I painted in brown on the glass.”

  “Good thing you told us it was a hammer,” Mark teased. “Would have never recognized it otherwise.”

  In the rearview mirror, Kate saw Ben lean forward and cuff his brother on the side of the head.

  “Hey!” Mark yelled, twisting in his seat to try to reach back and hit his brother.

  Kate looked to see why Meg wasn’t stopping the squabble and found her friend’s focus trained on a short, bundled-up person entering the hardware store.

  “Stop here and let me out. You don’t have to park.” Meg unbuckled her belt, then leaned toward Kate and whispered, “It’s Linda Johnson. I’m going to do some sleuthing.”

  Right then, Ben let out a cry for his mom, and Meg finally realized what was going on behind her. “Mark and Ben, if you don’t behave you’ll be going to your grandmother’s house to pass out candy on Halloween. And that will be the extent of your festivities this year.”

  “He started it,” Mark said, pointing over his shoulder toward his brother.

  “He said a mean thing about my window,” Ben defended.

  “I don’t care.” Meg opened her door and stepped out, leaning in again to add, “Kate is going to report exactly how you both act this afternoon. Which means you’d better be on your best behaviors.”

  “Do we need to come back and pick you up?” Kate asked.

  “I’ll find a ride, don’t worry. If nothing else, I’ll call Gil and have him stop for me on his way home.”

  LATER IN THE EVENING, Gil picked up the boys and assured a worried Kate that Meg was safe and sound. Keith had to show off all the items in his utility belt—”Look, I have bat cuffs and a bat-a-rang to knock out bad guys”—then he headed for the radio station.

  Kate steered the girls upstairs to do a final costume organization for the next evening, in case she needed to do any last-minute shopping or alterations. Sam’s hockey outfit with face mask was laid out and ready, and the twin was warned she couldn’t take her hockey stick to school. Suzanne, on the other hand, went über-girly, deciding finally among the choices she’d been working through the week to wear a pink satin princess gown and tiara.

  “And can I wear some makeup, Mommy?” she asked.

  “No.”

  “Just a little?”

  Kate stared at her hopeful face, wondering when this mothering gig would ever get easy. “You can wear a little of my lip gloss, and I’ll brush your cheeks with blush. But no more.”

  “Can I take the lip gloss with me? It will come off when I eat lunch, and I’ll need some for afterward.” Suze’s forehead crumpled in concern.

  “I’ll think about it.”

  “Oh, thank you, Mom.” Suze hugged Kate around the waist.

  “No promises.” Kate patted her daughter’s blonde curls, then glanced over at Sam sitting cross legged on her bed. When her tomboy twin realized she had her mother’s attention, she executed an exaggerated eye roll, then mouthed, “You’ve been played.”

  Like I need you to tell me, Kate thought.

  “You should at least go as a zombie princess,” Sam argued, flopping onto her pillow.

  “No, that’s ugly,” Suze replied.

  “So are you.”

  “If I’m ugly then you are too. We’re identical, remember?”

  “Girls, no name calling,” Kate warned.

  “No one has any problem telling me apart from you,” Sam said, ignoring her mother.

  “That’s because you have no style,” Suze countered.

  “Do too. I have my own style.” Sam threw her pillow. Suze dove toward the heart shaped ones on her bed.

  “Girls! Stop, now!” Kate blocked one soft projectile in mid-air and grabbed a second stuffed heart from the floor. “No more arguing. No more fighting. Is everyone’s completed homework in your backpacks?”

  “Yes, Mommy,” the girls said in unison.

  “Then it’s bath time. Go.”

  When the girls returned a short time later, smelling of the memory of soapy bubbles and giggling over some joke Sam told Suze, Kate put them to bed and read until their blue eyes looked more sleepy than awake. A round of goodnight kisses preceded the lamp’s goodnight click. Kate pulled the door almost closed and headed downstairs. The cat met her at the bottom step, acting bored.

  “Let me guess. You can’t find any of your catnip mice or squeaky play things?” she said. The cat walked to the sofa and gave a pitiful mew.

  She had just found the last feathery toy, along with five others the cat had knocked under the heavy piece of furniture, when she heard a knock on the door.

  “I know it’s late, but I wanted to fill you in on what I’ve learned,” Meg said, smiling as she held up a white bakery box. “And I have treats.”

  “By all means, come in.” Kate hurried her inside and closed the door against the cold. She kicked away one of the cat toys that laid in the path to the kitchen. A streak of orange and gold tore down the hallway after the flying precious.

  Meg set the box on the table. “I assumed you have milk. I bought these brownies from Saree after I finished my hardware store reconnaissance, and I’ve been dying to eat one ever since. But I can run home if—”

  �
�Shh. Yes, I have milk, but the girls may not be asleep yet. And I don’t want to share,” Kate whispered, scooping up the box and placing the chocolate goodies in the microwave to warm. She pointed to the refrigerator. “Can you pour the glasses while I run up and double check the girls weren’t playing possum earlier? Besides being a selfish mother, I imagine we don’t need any big ears attached to little bodies listening in while we’re talking.”

  “Sure, go check. I’ll have everything ready when you get back.”

  Minutes later, the women sat across from one another at the table, and the brownies weren’t the only treat Meg served up. “I couldn’t get anything out of Linda when I pretended to run into her in the hardware store. But with so few customers, I was able to hang around the checkout and talk to Mr. Turner a bit after she drove away.”

  “Did she buy anything?”

  “Another lock. When I asked Mr. Turner, he said it was the third door lock she’s bought this week. Today’s was a heavy bolt lock, but she had a deadbolt on the front door when we went by there. So, why the second slide bolt?”

  “Maybe the back door?”

  “Don’t think so. This was the third one she’d bought,” Meg reminded, taking a quick bite of brownie. “Mmm, so good.” She finished chewing, and continued, “He said she added extra window locks too. Came by and bought the locks and the tools she needed to install them.”

  Kate broke off a piece of brownie. “I don’t remember seeing a security service sign in the yard, but it could have been hidden by the snow. You’d think she’d have an account with one of the alarm companies if she was concerned.”

  “But why be so concerned about theft or break-ins in Hazelton?” Meg asked. “If she was worried, it would make more sense to move somewhere else.”

  “Could be that she tries to keep ahead of safety issues and stays with a good defensive program wherever she lives. Remember, she did seem to have a Bronx accent.”

  “True. And living in one of the New York boroughs is a lot different from small town Vermont.”