Candy Coated Murder

A Pumpkin Hollow Mystery

by

Kate Bell

Copyright © 2017 by Kate Bell.  All rights reserved.  This book is a work of fiction.  All names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination, or used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.  All rights reserved.  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronically or mechanical, without permission in writing from the author or publisher.

Other books by Kate Bell

Apple Pie A La Murder,

A Cozy Baked Murder, Book 1

Trick or Treat and Murder,

A Cozy Baked Murder, Book 2

Turkey Trot Terror

A Cozy Baked Murder, Book 3

Candy Cane Killer

A Cozy Baked Murder, Book 4

Ice Cold Murder

A Cozy Baked Murder, Book 5

Love is Murder

A Cozy Baked Murder, Book 6

Strawberry Surprise Killer

A Cozy Baked Murder, Book 7

Pushing Up Daisies in Grady,

A Gracie Williams Mystery, Book 1

Kicked the Bucket in Grady,

A Gracie Williams Mystery, Book 2

--1--

The bell above the door jingled, and I looked up from the tray of raspberry truffles I was putting into the display case.

“Mia Jordan,” Hazel Martin said, walking up to the display case. She looked me up and down over the top of her silver wire-framed glasses. Her short, curly gray hair sported a pink antique hairpin tucked into the front and her rouged cheeks bloomed in the candy store lighting.

“Good morning, Hazel,” I said and forced my mouth to curve into a smile. I had moved home a week earlier and Hazel lived next door to my parents. Up until now I had managed to keep from running into her, but my luck had just run out.

“You're just the person I was looking for. I was wondering, is it possible to make the pecan pralines without pecans?”  She held her pink fake-jewel encrusted purse in front of her, waiting for my answer.

I stared at her for a moment, wondering if this was a trick question. I shook my head slowly. “No. After all, they’re pecan pralines.”

She sighed and tilted her head. “I detest nuts. They get stuck in my teeth. But I love the pralines themselves.  You need to be more mindful of people who don’t eat nuts.”

“Okay, well, I’ll keep that in mind.” I finished putting the rest of the raspberry truffles into the display case and closed the glass door. To say Hazel Martin was a difficult person was an understatement.

“I want to speak with your mother,” she said, brushing invisible lint from the sleeve of her pale pink sweater with one white-gloved hand. It wasn't quite Labor Day and still too warm for a sweater, never mind the 1950s era white gloves.

I smiled and then called over my shoulder. “Mom!”

“How are you doing since you moved back?” Hazel asked, looking over the candy in the display case. “It's a shame you couldn’t make a go of it in the real world.”

I bit my lower lip to keep from saying something I would regret. “Well, you know how it is. That real world is kind of scary.”

“Indeed it is,” she said with a smile.

My family had lived next door to Hazel since before I was born. I had grown up with her looking over my shoulder, ready to point out any wrongs I had committed. She was a busybody to the nth degree.

“Mom!” I called again. I had work to do and she could deal with Hazel. She was more diplomatic than I. I picked up a dishcloth and wiped the front counter so I wouldn’t have to talk to her.

I had moved to Michigan ten years earlier to go to college with a plan to study veterinary science. But, taking courses requiring me to dissect frogs and rats changed my mind in a hurry. I floated through college for two years, finally declaring my major at the end of my sophomore year. English. I loved to read, and I decided I could be a writer or teach at the local junior college with an English major. Only, after I got my master’s degree in English, I worried it wasn’t what I really wanted. So I got another master’s degree in web development. But I wasn’t sure about that either, so I got a master’s degree in business and web development.

After ten years of higher education and feeling like a career spinster, I moved back home. It occurred to me I might be avoiding the real world by staying in school indefinitely.

Home was Pumpkin Hollow, population 6,353. Pumpkin Hollow was a Halloween-themed town in the mountains of Northern California, far enough from the bigger cities to feel like a proper small town, but not so far as to be inconvenient for tourists. We had nine blocks of shops dedicated to all things Halloween.  Around the corner was another street with a haunted house, two Halloween party houses (one for adults and one for children), an old-fashioned skating rink with real hardwood floors, and other various Halloween-themed entertainment. At the edge of town was the haunted farmhouse with a corn maze and straw bale maze.

People came from all over the state to visit, and most importantly, spend their money. The Halloween season, as the locals called it, lasted from Labor Day weekend through mid-November. The remainder of the year saw a little more than a trickle of visitors; so planning our business was imperative.

My parent’s owned the Pumpkin Hollow Candy Shop, passed down from my mother’s parents. We sold Halloween themed candy; some we made, and some we purchased. The rest of the year we sold other holiday-themed candy, but we always carried a variety of Halloween candy, regardless of the time of year.

Hazel peered into the display case while waiting for my mother to appear from the back room. 

“Such a shame to waste your parent’s money,” Hazel murmured as she bent down and squinted at the chocolate bonbons.

“Mom!” I shouted, looking over my shoulder.

“What is it?” Mom asked, coming from the back room, wiping her hands on a dishcloth. She stopped in her tracks. “Oh. Hazel.”

“Good morning Ann, how are you?” Hazel asked. Honey dripped from her words, but I wasn’t fooled. She wanted something.

“I’m fine, Hazel, how are you?” Mom said. Her eyes went to me, then back to Hazel.

“I want to take issue with your flag.” Hazel clasped her hands together over the strap of her purse.

“What?” Mom asked, looking confused. She untied her apron in the back and took it off, laying it on a stool behind the counter. “What do you mean?”

My mother would try to smooth things over, whatever the issue was unless she was pushed. And she had spent too many years being pushed by Hazel Martin.

“The flag on your house. The homeowners association forbids flags bigger than 24” by 24” and I’m sure your flag is much too big.” She had a smile on her face and I rolled my eyes.  How many times had we heard this sort of thing over the years?

“I don’t think the flag is too big, and I’m sure the homeowners association would have said something by now, if it was,” Mom said, reaching for a dishcloth to wipe down the counter. Mom liked to hang decorative flags on the house that she changed out with the seasons. A large flag with a cut watermelon and romping cartoon mice waved from the front porch as we spoke.

“They haven’t talked to you about it? I’ll be sure and let them know they’ve overlooked it,” Hazel said, nodding. “Now, let’s see about these pralines.”

I rolled my eyes again. “We aren’t changing the recipe for the pralines,” I said. “Nor are we changing the flag.”

Mom glanced at me, eyebrows raised.

“Mia, the customer is always right,” Hazel pointed out. Her glasses were still poised on the end of her nose. As long as I had known Hazel that’s where they sat. I wondered how they stayed put since she was always sticking her nose in other people’s business, but I didn’t ask.

“Pralines have pecans.  That’s the way it is,” I said, sitting down on the other stool behind the counter. I looked to my mother for support.

“I can’t imagine that pralines would be pralines without pecans,” Mom said. “Maybe you should try something with a soft center. We have a variety of candies to choose from.”

Hazel shook her head. “I don’t understand this. The city council is always telling residents to buy local. Support the town, they say. But then when I try, I run into this resistance,” she said, motioning toward me.  “I was just over at the Sweet Goblin Bakery and bought a dozen donuts and do you know what Stella Moretti told me?”

I sighed and refrained from asking what Stella Moretti had said. I knew conversations like this would go nowhere. They always did.

When neither of us asked what was said, she continued. “Well, I’ll tell you. She said a baker’s dozen is twelve donuts and not thirteen! Have you ever heard of anything so nonsensical in your life?” She looked from me to Mom, waiting for a response.

“Well,” I finally said. Some days I couldn’t keep my mouth shut. “A dozen is twelve.”

“No, Mia. I know you younger generation don’t know much, college education or not, but a baker’s dozen is always thirteen. In the old days, the baker threw in an extra donut or cookie or whatever you were buying, as a good will gesture. And it’s not like Stella was advertising a dozen donuts for nine dollars, either. She was advertising a baker’s dozen donuts. There’s a difference.”

“Fine, you’re right,” I relented. And she was right as much as I hated to admit it. I didn’t want to argue. I had stayed up too late the night before and I was tired. I also might have been feeling a little sorry for myself for having moved home. I needed to get my own place so I could feel more independent.

“I most certainly am,” she said, smiling like the goose that laid the golden egg. “And now, about those pralines. How soon can you whip me up a dozen without nuts?”

I gasped. “We are not making pralines without nuts. They come as is. Take them or leave them.”

Hazel peered over the top of her glasses. “Listen here, young lady.  I have lived in this town all my life and I will get what I want.”

“We are not making pralines without nuts,” I repeated, looking her in the eye.

She looked at my mother. “Ann, are you going to make my pralines without nuts?”

Mom shook her head. “No, I’m sorry Hazel. I don’t even know what a praline without nuts would be called. The nuts are the most important ingredient in the candy. They’re always made with nuts.”

Hazel gasped. “Well, I never! I’ll be talking to the city council about this. They have no business telling the citizens of Pumpkin Hollow to shop local when the businesses are run so poorly.”

Hazel slung her purse over her shoulder and stomped out, letting the door swing shut behind her.

I looked over at Mom.

She shrugged. “She’s been getting worse.  I don’t know what’s gotten into her. Everywhere I go, someone has something to say about her behavior.”

“She’s a pushy woman, and I’m tired of the way she acts,” I said. “I don’t know how you can stay so calm when dealing with her.”

“I know. She’s been causing such trouble down at the homeowners association. The other neighbors are up in arms about it.  Well, I have fudge to make. With nuts.” She grinned and headed to the back room.

I sighed. Welcome back to Pumpkin Hollow.

--2--

I looked out the window of my mother’s car as we headed home. I had fond memories growing up in Pumpkin Hollow.  I mean, what kid wouldn’t love living in a town where Halloween is celebrated year-round? There had been Halloween activities every weekend in the fall. Pumpkin carving contests, kid’s Halloween parties at the party house, costume parties during my teen years, and during October, costume contests. On the edge of town, the old haunted farmhouse stood with its two mazes.  The corn maze was for teens and older. It featured villains from horror movies and wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea.

There were also trips to the haunted house and hayrides at the haunted farmhouse. I felt a tear come to my eye when I remembered the fun we had.  Why had I stayed away so long?

The neighborhood where we lived was neat and clean, kept that way under the watchful eye of the homeowners association. I found it a bit stifling, to tell the truth. When, or if, I ever bought my own house, I wanted to do as I pleased with it. No one would tell me how to decorate the house I worked so hard to buy.

“You’re quiet,” Mom said as she turned down our street.

I smiled. “Just a little tired, I guess.”

I reached up and pulled the hair tie out of my long brown hair. It was in need of a trim. Maybe I needed to cut it short. I yawned and looked into the rearview mirror. I either needed to get more sleep, or I was looking old for twenty-eight. My eyes were blue like everyone else’s in my family and right then, they were accented with dark circles. I had a sister two years younger than I and Hazel had once commented our parents and the two of us looked so much alike we could be mistaken for quadruplets. Brown hair, blue eyes, upturned noses. I sighed. Hazel needed to keep her mouth shut.

Mom pulled into the driveway and parked the car. The garage housed my sister’s furniture and boxes she couldn’t find room for after her last move. I wondered when the homeowners association would send a letter to my parents, notifying them they couldn’t park a car in their own driveway.

“Glad to be home?” my mom asked, reaching for the door handle.

I smiled and shrugged. “I guess.”

“You’ll find something,” she assured me. “Those college degrees will come in handy.”

“Sure,” I said and got out of the car. I knew I would find a job. If I could figure out what it was I wanted to do with my life.

Hazel’s house bordered ours. Her flowerbeds were neat and tidy with blooming white mums and maroon zinnias. You’d never catch her yard being out of order. Tools were never left lying around and a garden gnome wouldn’t even think about darkening her manicured lawn. The minute a plant died or ceased to bloom, it was ousted and another put in its place. Hazel took her job beautifying the neighborhood seriously.

I glanced at her front porch, a simple American flag, exactly 24” by 24” hung from a short, skinny flagpole. One potted plant sat near the front door, and a freshly painted white bench sat beneath the front window. I stopped in my tracks.

What was that?

The white painted bench on Hazel’s porch had a stuffed scarecrow on it. Even though the town had a Halloween theme, Hazel had never taken part in decorating. For one thing, the homeowners association was strict with what it allowed and its rules had to be kept in mind when shopping for decorations. For another, Hazel didn’t like anything fun.

“Are you coming?” Mom asked, looking over her shoulder.

“Yeah,” I said, but kept my eye on the scarecrow. Something about it wasn’t right. I looked at my mother as she headed to our front door and then back at the scarecrow.

“What are you doing?” Mom asked as she put the key in the lock.

“I’ll be right there,” I said and walked up the gently mounded grassy knoll that separated our yards.

The scarecrow was life-sized, with one of Hazel’s purple gardening hats on its head. Straw poked out from the cuffs of its long sleeves, and its pant legs, and it slumped over a bit. I mounted the three porch steps, coming to a stop in front of the scarecrow. The oddest part was that it wore the same pink sweater and white gloves Hazel had worn earlier in the day.

“Hazel will yell at you,” Mom warned from our porch.

Something about the scarecrow looked wrong; the way it was slumped over with its head resting on its chest. Why would Hazel put this thing up so early in the year? Why would Hazel put it up at all? Then it occurred to me that someone was playing a joke on her. Hazel, with her super neat yard and the way she looked down on other people’s yards, was being pranked.

I breathed out and chuckled. “Someone’s going to get in trouble,” I said.

I turned back toward my house, stopped, and then turned back to look at the scarecrow. Hazel would have a fit when she saw it. Not that I cared about her feelings. I reached out and pulled the hat off the scarecrow. It was then I screamed loud enough to wake the dead. All of the dead except this one.

--3--

I leaned against my mother’s car and watched the EMTs load Hazel onto the gurney and pull the sheet up over her face. I wrapped my arms around myself, looked away, and wondered who could do such a thing.

There were four police cars parked at the curb in front of Hazel’s house and the police milled about the yard and house. One had a camera and busied himself taking pictures.  Pumpkin Hollow was a low crime town and the local police had little to do most days. I recognized most of the police, except for the tall blond one.

“Are you okay?” Mom asked, touching my arm.

I nodded and glanced at her, giving her a tight-lipped smile. “I’m fine. Just a little shocked is all.”

“I don’t know who would do something like this,” she said. “Poor Hazel.”

“I know. It’s terrible.”

The neighbors across the street had brought out lawn chairs so they could relax and watch while Hazel was taken away. It didn’t surprise me. The Tompkins weren’t known for being classy. One year they had placed a mooning wooden mummy cutout in their yard at Halloween. I don’t think it was a coincidence it faced Hazel’s house.

Mr. Gott, an elderly widower who lived in the house on the other side of Hazel’s house, stood in his yard silently watching the police and EMTs do their job. I sighed. It was a sad night in the neighborhood.

As we stood there, the tall blond police officer looked in our direction. He said something to one of the other policemen and headed in our direction. I kept my eyes on him, unsure of what I should do in a situation like this.  I was having trouble taking in what had happened.

“Good evening,” the officer said, nodding at my mother and then at me. He smiled.  “Mia Jordan?”

I squinted, trying to place him. Then it hit me. “Ethan Banks?”

He nodded.  “It’s been a long time.”

“It has,” I said, not knowing what to do with this information. Ethan was taller and had broader shoulders than I remembered. His face had also matured. Gone was the baby face, now replaced by a man’s face. A handsome man’s face. Not that I noticed.

Ethan and I had gone to school together.  With his blond hair, blue eyes and boy-band good looks, he had been the cutest and most popular boy throughout junior high and high school. When he walked by, girls swooned. He was a teenage girl’s dream come true. Except for this teenage girl. Ethan Banks had been a bit of a jerk as I recalled. I had never liked him after he teased me about having spiders in my hair in the seventh grade. It wouldn’t have been so bad, but he did it in front of thirty other kids and I spent the rest of the year having kids flip my hair and yell “Spider!” when they walked by. It had been traumatizing.

“How have you been?” he asked. “I haven’t seen you since graduation.”

"I’m good. I’ve been away to college in Michigan,” I answered. I really didn’t want to get reacquainted, but I wasn’t sure I would have a choice in the matter.

“College? Still?” he asked. His brows furrowed in confusion.

Yeah, I got that all the time.

I shrugged. “Slow learner.” It was easier than trying to explain that I still had no idea what I wanted to be when I grew up.

“Oh,” he said, nodding. “Did the two of you find the victim?”

I nodded.

“Mia did.  I was standing at my door, unlocking it when she screamed,” Mom said. “We called 911 right away.”

“I see,” he said and took a small notebook out of his pocket. “Can you tell me what happened?”

“We had just gotten home from work and I noticed the scare-, um, Hazel, on the bench. I mean, I didn’t know it was Hazel, but when I walked up to the scarecrow and took its hat off, I realized it was her. And then my mother called 911.”

I wondered if any of that made sense. Why was he making me nervous? He was just Ethan Banks from high school. Except that now he was also a cop and the sight of a police uniform always made me nervous.

“I see.  Do you normally check up on your neighbor when you get home from work?”

“What? No, I don’t, it’s just that it seemed odd she had a scarecrow on her front porch,” I said, glancing at the ambulance as it drove off.

Ethan looked up from his notebook. “Why did it seem odd she had a scarecrow on her front porch? I mean, this is a Halloween town and all.”

“Are you kidding?  Did you know Hazel? She’s an obsessive neat freak and she would never have anything like that on her front porch. Was. Was an obsessive neat freak, I mean. And she never decorated for Halloween. Not ever.”

Ethan made a note and nodded. “I didn’t know her, but I’ll admit to taking a few calls for this neighborhood with reports of disturbing the peace and vehicles parked too far away from the curb.  The calls originated with her.”

“Doesn’t surprise me,” I said.

“Did you notice anything unusual? Have there been any strangers in the neighborhood?”

“No, but we work during the day and we haven’t noticed anyone new in the neighborhood,” I said.

“What kind of relationship did you have with your neighbor?” he asked.

“What? What do you mean?” I asked.

Was he trying to infer something?

He looked from me to my mom and back. “She seemed like she might not have been the greatest neighbor if she was that picky about things. Did you get along?”

“We got along fine,” Mom said. “She complained about things, but we tried our best to ignore her. It was just the way she was and arguing with her wouldn't change things.”

“Some neighbors are tough to get along with,” Ethan agreed. “Do you own the candy shop over on Spooky Lane?”

Mom nodded. “Yes, we’ve owned it for over thirty years. We inherited it from my parents. We love this town.”

I glanced at Mom. She seemed a little nervous. We both were. The last thing we needed was for the police to think we had something to do with Hazel’s death.

“I love the pralines there,” he said and smiled. He had a million dollar smile. Not that I noticed things like that.

“With the nuts?” I asked. I couldn’t help myself. It was out before I realized what I was saying.

“Yeah, the nuts are the best part. Why? Do you make them without nuts?” he asked.

I shook my head. “Nope. Pralines have to have nuts.”

Ethan smiled at me like we were sharing an inside joke. I didn’t like his friendliness. I wasn’t over the spider incident.

“How long have you been back in town?” he asked, sounding chummy.

“A week.” I looked at him without saying anything more. We hadn’t been friends in high school. In fact, our paths had rarely crossed. There was no reason for him to be friendly to me now.

“Are you going to keep working at the candy store? Or put your education to work?”

I narrowed my eyes at him.  It wasn’t his business what I did with my education. I guess you could say I was too sensitive, but I felt a little like a failure. Each time I had entered a master’s program, I had sworn I was on the right track. And now I was back working at my parents’ candy shop. I could have saved myself the trouble and stayed home.  

“I haven’t decided. There’s an awful lot of people across the street you might want to interview,” I said pointing out the neighbors on their lawn chairs.

He glanced across the street and then nodded. “Right. I was just making my way over there.  Well, I’ll be in touch. If you can think of anything, you’ll give me a call, right?” he handed us both a business card.

“Sure,” I said without looking at him.

When he left, mom turned to me. “You weren’t very friendly to him.”

I shrugged. “So? Was I supposed to be?”

“It just seemed odd is all.”

I looked at her. “Don’t you think he asked pointed questions? I don’t like feeling like I’m a suspect in a murder. I was doing a good deed by going over there to check on Hazel.”

“Mia, he didn’t ask pointed questions and I’m sure all he was doing was trying to find out what happened. He seems like a nice young man.”

“Mom, he is not a nice young man. In seventh grade, he told everyone I had spiders in my hair. A week later he told them I smelled, and that was why the spiders liked living in my hair.”

She looked at me, giving me the eye. “Mia, how long ago was that? In seventh grade, boys are still being mean to girls they like. They don’t know how to express themselves.”

I gasped. “No, he did not like me.  He was just mean. And kids called me spider girl for months afterward.”

“I think you need to get over it,” she said, turning toward the house. “I’m going to get dinner started. Your father will be home any minute.”

I snorted. She didn’t know what she was talking about. Ethan Banks was a jerk then, and he was a jerk now. She needed to open her eyes and see what was really going on here.

--4--

I was placing a pound of caramels into a box for a customer when the shop door swung open.

“Mia!”

I looked up to see Amanda Krigbaum, my best friend from high school. “Amanda!” I said. “Hold on, I’ll be right with you.”

I took the box of candy to the cash register and rang up my customer. I thanked her and tucked a pumpkin lollipop into the bag for her four-year-old daughter who had spent the last ten minutes eyeing them.

“Come back soon,” I said as she left.

“Mia!” Amanda said again when the customer left and came around behind the counter, giving me a hug. “I missed you!”

“I missed you, too,” I said. “It’s been too long.” She looked the same as she had in high school, tall, blond hair, and piercing green eyes. She wore black-framed glasses and had a turned up nose. She was a sight for sore eyes.

“I know. Has it been six years?” she asked, holding me at arm’s length. “Let me get a look at you. You’re still just as pretty as ever." 

“I can say the same about you. I don't know why we let so much time pass without seeing each other,” I said. Amanda and I had been inseparable in school. But once school was out, we had gone our separate ways.  I went to Michigan, and she went to Texas for college. After college, she moved back home, but her job as a drug sales rep kept her traveling and we kept missing one another when I came home to visit. “How’s work?”

“I quit,” she said. “I hated all the traveling. I’m engaged, and I didn’t want to be away from Brian for long stretches.”

“Oh, my gosh,” I said. “Congratulations! Brian who?”

“Uh,” she said and hesitated. “Brian Shoate.” She tilted her head and looked at me.

I sobered. “Oh. That’s great.” Brian had been my boyfriend for over a year in high school.

“I’m sorry, Mia.  I wanted to tell you but every time I sat down to call you, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Does it bother you?”

I’ll admit I was a little stunned. I shook my head. “No.  Not a bit.  I’m so happy for you.” And I was.  It had been a shock when his name came out of her mouth along with the word "engaged", but Brian was a good guy and she was my best friend. They would make a cute couple.

“Are you sure?” she asked.

“Amanda, you’re engaged. It’s been over ten years ago that Brian and I dated. I assure you, I’m fine with it. You’re engaged and I’m happy for you.”

“I’m so glad. I worried it would hurt your feelings. Brian owns the Little Coffee Shop of Horrors. I quit my drug rep job and went to work for him. I love being able to spend so much time with him.”

“Really? I didn’t realize he owned the coffee shop. I’ve been away much too long.”

“What about you? Anyone special?” she asked.

“Nope. I dated a couple of good ones, but I’m not seeing anyone right now. Next time I need to tie them up so they can’t get away,” I said, and picked up a cloth and ran it across the top of the display case. There had been two men in the past ten years that I thought were perfect for me. But things happened, and we parted ways. No drama, no cheating. It just didn’t work out. Afterward, I had looked back and regretted letting them go. I didn’t seem to be very good at careers or men.

"Well, we may have to do something about that," she said.

"We'll see about that," I said with a laugh. I was fine on my own. Not that I'd turn down the right guy.

“Hey, I heard your neighbor was killed last night.  Was it the nosy one that told your mom when we sneaked out of the house to meet those boys when we were in the ninth grade?” she asked, leaning against the display case.

“That was the one,” I said and smiled at the memory. I had lost my phone privileges and been grounded for a month over that incident. “It was weird. Someone dressed her up as a scarecrow and sat her on the bench on her porch.”

“That is weird,” she agreed. “How did she die?”

“I don’t know. It didn’t seem obvious when I found her.”

“You found her? How horrible!”

I nodded. “It was kind of freaky. I didn’t know Ethan Bates was a policeman. He questioned my mom and me about her murder.”

“He’s been an officer for years. As soon as he was old enough, he went through the police academy. In school I would have sworn he would have become a lawyer,” she said.

“I thought so, too. I bet his parents weren’t thrilled with that choice. They always seemed like high maintenance people.”

She nodded. “They were kind of intense. He was a straight-A student. Law school seemed imminent.”

“Do you want to take a break with me? I could use a donut or something,” I said. There weren’t any customers in the shop and now was a good time to take a break.

“Sure,” she said. “I’m always up for a donut.”

“Mom, I’m going down the street for a donut.  I’ll be back,” I called to my mother.

“Okay,” she said and stood in the doorway to the back room. “Hi, Amanda.”

“Hi, Mrs. Jordan.”

We headed out the door and down the street toward the bakery. The great thing about a small town is that most things are within walking distance.

“Hazel was in the shop yesterday morning and she said she had had an argument with Stella Moretti at the bakery,” I said as we walked. The bakery was famous for its chocolate donuts with orange icing and Halloween cutout sugar cookies. Stella Moretti could be a pain to deal with, but she made the best donuts in the county.

“I’d bet Hazel had lots of arguments with almost everyone in town.”

“That’s true,” I said. “It’s kind of scary having a murderer on the loose.”

She nodded. “I hope they find the killer soon.”

I pushed open the bakery door and the scent of sweet yummy donuts hit me. I inhaled. “Hi, Stella,” I said. She was behind the counter, sitting on a stool and reading the newspaper.

“Hey,” she said, glancing at me, then going back to her reading. Stella was middle-aged with short dark curly hair. She was what my grandmother would call pleasingly plump, and she wore bright red lipstick every day.

“Can I get some donuts, please?” I asked when she didn’t get up.

“Sure,” she said, folding the newspaper in half and getting to her feet.

“Did you hear what happened yesterday?” I asked her.

“What? About that Hazel Martin?” she snorted. “Good riddance. She was a pest. She was always coming in here and arguing about how many donuts are in a dozen.”

“It’s a shame though,” I said. “Ending up dead like that and then being used as a Halloween prop.”

She went to the sink on the wall and turned the water on. “Yeah, sure. But it’s not like the town is losing anything. She lived to make people’s lives miserable.  Who’s going to miss that?”

I glanced at Amanda.

“She was still a person, Stella,” Amanda pointed out.  “You have to feel bad about her murder on that basis alone.”

“No, I really don’t,” Stella said. “What do you want?”

“Three of the chocolate and orange ones,” I said. “I’ll bring one back to my mother. She loves your donuts.”

“You know what I think?” Stella asked.

“What?” I replied.

She finished washing, pulled out three paper towels from the dispenser on the wall, and dried her hands before continuing. “Hazel’s killer should be celebrated. We should put up a stone monument dedicated to him or her.” She slipped on some vinyl gloves and went to the display case.

“That’s terrible. How can you say that?” Amanda asked. Her eyes went wide, and she looked at me. “How can she say that?”

“She complained about me to the health department.  She said I wasn’t washing my hands before serving people.  You just saw me do it, didn’t you?”

“Yes, we did,” I said, nodding. “And since your customers know you wash your hands, her complaints are untrue, and I’m sure the health department knows that.”

“Stupid woman,” she said. “I am impeccably clean. She hated that I collect garden gnomes and display them in my front yard. She said they were trashy. Garden gnomes are not trashy. They’re cute.  I don’t know what her problem was, but she kept turning me into the homeowners association.”

“She had a thing for neat yards,” I said.

Stella lived three blocks away from my parent’s house and it was true about the gnomes. She probably had more than thirty of the colorful little things on her porch and along her fence line. Sometimes the grass wasn’t cut, and the house needed a coat of paint, but I had never thought Stella was dirty. Hazel had impossible standards.

Stella rang up the donuts and put them in a white paper bag.

“Thanks, Stella,” I said and took the bag from her.

“Tell your mom I said hi. And tell her to let me know when she makes the pumpkin fudge again. I love that stuff.”

“I will,” I said as we left the bakery. After Labor Day, all the shops would have pumpkin flavored everything. I loved pumpkin spice, but I wasn’t sure about the pumpkin burgers that Diner of the Dead served. The burgers had pumpkin butter on them. That was going a little too far for my tastes.

“Stella sure isn’t going to miss Hazel,” Amanda said as we walked down the street. Most of the shops had Halloween characters, pumpkins, and fall leaves painted on the borders of their windows, ready for the start of the season. They had also set their best decorations and merchandise in displays in front of the windows. It made me feel nostalgic and giddy with anticipation. I handed Amanda a donut and took one out for myself.

“No, there’s no love lost between Stella and Hazel. I don’t know how she could be so cold about it though. I know what a pain Hazel was; I lived next door to her all my life. But I still feel bad she died.”

“And in such a bizarre manner. Who would dress her up as a scarecrow?”

“I don’t know. But I don’t like that Ethan Banks is looking in my direction. He might be looking at my mom, too.”

“Do you really think he is?” she asked.

“It sure seems that way,” I said and took a bite of my donut.

“I don’t blame you for worrying about it, then,” Amanda said and took a bite of her donut.

I wondered if my mother and I were really suspects or if Ethan was just doing his job. Maybe he asked everyone the kinds of questions he had asked us. I could have been a little paranoid, or I could be right that he was suspicious of my mom and I. I just didn’t know for sure.

--5--

“Stella wants to know when you make the pumpkin fudge,” I said to my mother and handed her the bag with the last donut.

Amanda had work to do and had stopped off at the coffee shop.

 “Labor Day weekend. She already knows that,” she said, peering into the bag.

“She isn’t the least bit sorry about Hazel being murdered.” I sat on a stool behind the counter.

“That doesn't surprise me. Those two hated each other,” she said and took a bite of her donut. She climbed up on the other stool behind the counter to enjoy her donut.

I turned to look at her. “Hate is a strong word,” I pointed out.

“It’s an accurate word. Hazel had an affair with Stella’s husband over thirty years ago.”

“What?” I exclaimed louder than I intended. “What do you mean she had an affair with Stella’s husband?”

She nodded. “Hazel was a looker back in the day. And she had a thing for Vince Moretti. Hazel’s own husband was away on business a lot and she got lonely, I guess.”

“That is crazy. I would never have thought it,” I said, trying to picture Hazel being both younger and a looker.

Mom took a bite of her donut. “This is so fresh,” she said. “You can’t blame Stella for hating Hazel all these years. Word has it she walked in on them.”

“Wow. Do you think Stella could have murdered Hazel?”

“I don’t see why she would. It’s been so many years. If she were going to do it, she would have done it long ago.”

“What if all those years just compounded the anger and feelings of betrayal?” I pointed out. “Maybe she lost her mind after obsessively thinking about it for so many years and snapped.”

“Maybe. But I’d think your imagination is running away from you. I don’t think anger works that way. If she were going to murder Hazel, she would have done it in a fit of rage when she found out about the affair. Instead, she stayed married to Vince all these years and Hazel went on about her life.”

“Maybe,” I said.

“I think it would be a good idea to hire some part-time help through the Halloween season,” she said. “I’ve talked to your father and he thinks it’s a good idea.”

“Really?” I asked. We’d always had part-time help over the years, but the last two employees we’d had moved on, and Mom never replaced them.

She nodded. “The season wears me out.”

“I think it’s a good idea. You work too hard.”

The door swung open, and I looked up to see Ethan standing there. He smiled at me like we were old friends.

“Hi Mia, Mrs. Jordan,” he said. “How are you ladies doing today?” He walked up to the front counter in his uniform, looking for all the world like the handsome young policeman he was. I shook my head at the thought.

“Fine,” I said but didn’t return his smile. He could save it for someone that cared.

“I’m doing well,” my mother said. “How are you?”

“Good, thanks for asking,” he said and looked at me.

I picked up the morning paper and folded it in half.

He leaned against the display case and looked over the candy. “What is that?” he asked, pointing to the display case.

“Almond nougats. Very good if you like almonds,” Mom said, and took another bite of her donut.

“I do like almonds,” he said and then he looked at me. “So, how are you doing today, Mia?”

“Great,” I said and refrained from pointing out I had already answered him.

He nodded and we stared at each other.

“So, that was weird. What happened to Hazel, I mean,” he finally said.

“Yes, it was. Did anyone know anything about what happened?”

He shook his head. “No. No one seemed to know anything, and they didn’t seem to mind she was killed.  Kind of sad if you ask me.”

“What about her family?” I asked. “They had to care.”

“We’re trying to contact them,” he said. “Do you know if she had any family in town?”

“She has a sister in Vermont, but all her family that lived here in town have passed,” Mom supplied. “When her husband died, her in-laws left town and I don’t think she ever heard from them again. It’s very sad, but she didn’t seem to have many friends in this town. I don’t know why she stayed.”

“Do you have contact information for her sister?” he asked.

Mom shook her head. “No. But her name is Mary Ann Gould, and she lived in Montpelier, Vermont. Maybe you can Google her.”

“That will help,” he said and took his notebook out and wrote down the name.

“I’ve got bonbons to make. Let me know if you need anything else,” she said, slipping down off the stool and heading for the back room. I gritted my teeth and looked at her for help, but her back was to me.

“Do you make very much of the candy you sell?” he asked, smiling at me.

“I can make just about any of it. Mom enjoys it so she ends up making most of it,” I said. “We also buy prepackaged candy from suppliers.”

“It must have been a kid’s dream to be raised with the family business being a candy shop,” he said.

“I do have a fair number of fillings in my teeth to prove the family business is operating a candy store,” I said. Ethan had filled out in a good way since high school. Even though he had been the most popular boy in school, I had always thought him a bit on the skinny side. He wasn’t skinny anymore.

“Mia, I’m sorry if I came on too strong last night. I didn’t mean to. I was just trying to find out as much information as I could.”

I shrugged. “No, not at all. I understand it’s your job.” I was feeling a little kinder toward him, and I shook myself.  I didn’t want to feel kindly toward him. I didn’t need a man in my life and certainly not this one.

“Good. I wouldn’t want you to think I was targeting you or anything. Will you be at the city council meeting tomorrow night?” he asked.

“What city council meeting?”

“They’re having one tomorrow to discuss the future of the Halloween season. Business hasn’t been what it used to be and some town residents want to do away with it.”

I gasped. “Are you kidding? How come I don’t know anything about this? They can’t do away with it! It’s our heritage. It’s what makes this town special.”

“I know.  I’d hate to see it happen. It’s all I’ve ever known.” He sounded sad when he said it.

“Businesses depend on the Halloween season and all the tourists that come to town. We need that money,” I said. I couldn’t imagine Pumpkin Hollow not having all the Halloween themed shops, the haunted farm, and the haunted house.

“I was pretty shocked when I heard about it, too. It would be a shame if we lost it all.”

“What will the town do to bring in more revenue if it’s gone? I get that we don’t do a lot of business in the off months, but from Labor Day weekend through mid-November, everything Halloween themed brings in a lot of tax dollars for the city. Who’s idea was this?” I asked.

I was outraged. Pumpkin Hollow’s Halloween theme began in the fall of 1946. Soldiers had come home from the war and the women that had taken over their jobs in their absence were laid off. Another source of income was needed by the families and someone had come up with the Halloween season. The Halloween season had thrived and been a mainstay of our community ever since.

“The mayor,” he said.  “To be honest, I am not a fan of his.”

“Well as of right now, neither am I.”

--6--

The town hall center was nearly filled as I slipped into a seat in a middle row. I was hoping most of the people here supported keeping the Halloween season. I couldn’t imagine what the town would be like without it.

I glanced around and near the front I saw Stella Moretti and Polly Givens from the gift shop. Ethan leaned against a wall, still in uniform, along with his partner Jasper Smith. I sat back in my chair and waited while the secretary read the minutes of the last meeting. New curbs were needed along Third Street, trash pickup was needed an extra day each week and dog licensing concerns. I yawned.

When that was finished, someone I didn’t recognize raised his hand and entered an initiative to abandon the town's Halloween theme. A murmur went up in the room and I wasn’t sure if it was in support or against the idea.

Stan Goodall, the mayor, raised a hand to quiet the crowd. Stan was middle-aged with a balding head and a slight potbelly. He had been a math teacher at the high school but had quit amid a scandal involving the Glee Club and candy sale money that was never accounted for. It made me wonder how he had ever been elected mayor.

He turned to the man that had raised the motion. “Mr. Crownover, what are your reasons for Pumpkin Hollow to cease being a year-round Halloween themed town?”

“Mr. Mayor,” Mr. Crownover said. He got to his feet and took himself by the lapels. “In light of the recent death of an esteemed citizen, I feel it's necessary to examine how we conduct ourselves. Tourist numbers have been down in recent years and with this murder, we can only expect it to get worse.”

At the words “esteemed citizen” there was another murmur in the room. I was as surprised as anyone to hear Hazel referred to in that way, considering nearly everyone disliked her.

The mayor put a hand up to quite the crowd again. “Continue,” he said to Mr. Crownover.

He sighed. “Mr. Mayor, we’re a laughingstock. We’ve been one for years. We don’t have the resources to continue holding the activities for the Halloween season and now we have a murderer on the loose who is dressing his victims as Halloween props. I vote we immediately terminate everything Halloween.”

“Terminate Halloween?” Fagan Branigan said, jumping to his feet. His shock of red hair bounced in the air. Fagan owned the Little Shop of Costumes three doors down from our candy shop. “We can’t terminate Halloween.  Pumpkin Hollow has been a tourist town for decades. We can’t just stop!”

“Fagan, you don’t have the floor,” the mayor pointed out.  “Please sit down until it’s your turn.”

“I’ll sit down, but I won’t allow this “terminate Halloween” idea to go forward. I’ll tell you that much.” Fagan sat down, folding his arms across his chest and I smiled. There was at least one other person who would help keep the Halloween season alive.

“Mr. Mayor, as I was saying,” Mr. Crownover said. “We’re a laughingstock. The buildings are in disrepair, the carousel doesn’t work and last year one of the goats from the petting zoo stole over forty personal items from guests. We had complaints all season long. We no longer make money from Halloween. The city has had to fix the haunted house and the corn and straw bale mazes so many times, we’ve lost count.  That money would be better spent on other things.”

The mayor nodded. “I have to agree with you. The city doesn’t have the money for these types of expenses and with the Halloween season just days away, I don’t see how we can go forward.”

There was an audible gasp in the room. I looked around and spotted Stella Moretti three rows up, nodding her head. I knew she was a grouch when it came to Halloween, but I hadn’t thought she would agree with the mayor.  She had a bakery in the Halloween district, after all.

Brian Schoate sat in the row ahead of me and he glanced over his shoulder. We made eye contact for a second, and then I looked away. I didn’t have issues with Brian, but suddenly I felt a little weird that he was marrying my best friend.

Fagan stood up again. “Is it my turn?”

The mayor sighed and rolled his eyes. “I suppose so.”

Fagan stood up to his full height. “We have a tradition to uphold here in Pumpkin Hollow. My parents and my grandparents owned businesses here. And that talk about us being a laughingstock is hogwash. People look forward to visiting our town. Time and again, I’ve had customers tell me they’ve been coming every year since they were children. Even the ones that come in the offseason are thrilled to stop in the shops and visit with the shop owners, and spend their money, I might add. We cannot get rid of the Halloween theme of this town. I’d also like to point out that the murderer doesn’t have “victims,” he or she has one victim. As far as we know, anyway. We shouldn’t blow things out of proportion.”

“Is that all?” the mayor asked.

I wanted to stand up, but I wasn’t great at public speaking. Fagan looked around for support, but when none came, he sat down.

Mark Somers stood. “I’d like to add something. Personally, I don’t mind the Halloween theme, but it’s costing the city too much money to maintain. I vote we shut it down.  It’s nothing personal. We just can’t afford it. We don’t have nearly as many visitors as we used to. It’s time to hang it up.”

I rolled my eyes. Mark Somers only lived in town during the summer and fall. He spent winter and early spring in San Diego because he couldn’t stand snow. He wouldn’t know how many visitors we had during the year because he wasn’t here all year long.

“Thank you, Mark. Does anyone else have anything to add?” the mayor asked.

Mr. Gott, the neighbor that lived on the other side of Hazel, stood.

“Yes, Mr. Gott?” the mayor asked.

“I vote in favor of ending the Halloween season. I’m tired of kids running across my lawn and I have to dodge them in the street. It’s dangerous having so many kids running around town. This Halloween season is just plain silly.”

I sighed loudly. Did Mr. Gott really think that if we got rid of the Halloween season, the kids would leave town?

“Thank you, Mr. Gott,” the mayor said and looked around for more supporters.

Three more people stood up to support ending the Halloween season, and I was starting to worry. How could so many people be against it?

When no one got to their feet to support the season, I decided I couldn’t sit there without saying something. I stood.

“I’d like to say something. There aren’t any other towns in the state like Pumpkin Hollow.  People come from all over the state to visit and it’s a tradition for many families. Maybe we don’t have the draw we used to have, but maybe we can change that. We can put our heads together and come up with a plan to save the town.” I looked around and saw eyes staring back. My stomach heaved.

The mayor squinted at me. “Who are you?”

I cleared my throat. “Mia Jordan. My parents own the Pumpkin Hollow Candy Store.  My grandparents owned it before that.”

“Why haven’t I seen you around?” the judge asked scrutinizing me.

“I’ve been away to college. For a while. And besides, I had you for tenth-grade math, so I don't know why you don't recognize me.”

He studied me a moment longer before speaking. “Well, Miss Jordan, let me tell you, if you’ve been away for any length of time, this town has changed. It’s not the old Pumpkin Hollow you might remember. We don’t have the guests we once had and we don’t have the tax revenue we once had, either.”

“Are we utilizing the Internet to draw people in?” I asked, sticking my chin out. I wasn’t going to give up that easily.

He stared at me again, and then blinked. “We have the Internet if that’s what you’re asking. And it works fine.”

I heard a couple of snickers. “Yes, but do we have a city website that people can visit when they plan their trip? Are we advertising? Are we making the website interactive?”

He sighed. “That all costs money, and if you had been listening, you’d know we don’t have money.”

“Maybe we can come up with a way to do it at a lower cost. Maybe we can figure out some new ways of doing things,” I suggested. I looked around for support, but I felt a little like Fagan must have felt a few minutes earlier.

“We don’t have the resources,” the mayor said. “We’ll take a vote on it though.”

“Wait a minute.  Is that how we’re supposed to do this? Don’t the business owners have a say in things?” Ethan asked, standing up straight. “It seems like it will affect the business owners the most.”

The mayor sighed and rolled his eyes. “The business people may vote. But, it’s not like they can’t keep their businesses running. If the vote passes, we’ll simply abandon the Halloween theme. People still buy candy even if it isn’t bat and pumpkin shaped.”

“I can’t keep my business going if there’s no Halloween theme,” Fagan pointed out. “I sell costumes. Halloween costumes.”

“And do you sell them year round?” the mayor asked.

Fagan nodded. “It might surprise you, but I do. I also sell online, but I need the local business to make a living.”

“Like I said,” the mayor intoned. “We’ll take a vote at our next meeting. This meeting is adjourned.” He slammed the gavel on his desk before anyone else could speak up and then tossed it to the side.

Ethan turned and looked at me. We needed to come up with a plan.

--7--

I stood in front of Little Coffee Shop of Horrors trying to get my courage up to go inside. It wasn’t that I had feelings for my ex-boyfriend, Brian. I was happy for Amanda and Brian. I wasn’t sure what it was, but it felt odd to see him the night before. He left right after the meeting and I never got to speak to him. I took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

Brian was standing at the front counter, finishing up with a customer. He looked up and smiled when he saw me.

“Hey, Mia, how are you?” he asked as his customer picked up her cup of coffee and headed for the door.

I forced myself to smile and told myself there was nothing awkward about this. “Hi Brian, I’m great. How are you?”

“Great,” he said. We stood and looked at each other for a moment. “It’s good to see you.”

I walked up to the counter. “Good to see you, too. I think I need a coffee. I can’t seem to get going this morning.” I looked over the chalkboard menu on the wall. “Choco Boo Berry sounds interesting.” I tried not to notice that his shoulders were broader than they had been the last time I saw him and the freckles had faded from his nose.

“That’s a raspberry mocha, and it's fantastic if I do say so myself.”

“I’ll have a medium, then. Amanda told me you two were engaged. Congratulations.”

He grinned at me and made my coffee. “Thanks. I’ve never been happier.”

“That’s great to hear. How’s business been?” I asked. His eyes also seemed bluer than I remembered and his black hair had a single gray hair on the left side of his head.

“Not bad. I still see plenty of customers, regardless of what other people say about business in town. I can’t wait for Halloween season. I’m sure things will be even better. It always is.”

“Yeah, I’m a little worried about what happened at the town council meeting last night,” I said, glancing around the empty shop. “Do you think they might really do away with the Halloween season?”

His face sobered. “I hope not.  It’s what makes this town what it is. I’d hate to see it go. But I can tell you from being a town council member in the past, a lot of things get brought before the board that never pan out.”

“I hope that’s true in this case. A lot of people earn their livelihood from the Halloween theme.”

“We both know how we’ll vote when the time comes. Lots of people have ideas of their own but they never follow them through,” he said and squirted whipped cream on my drink. “Let’s hope this is one of them.”

“Oh,” I said, and then stopped.

“Sorry. Did you not want whipped cream? I can make you another.”

“No, it’s fine. I should have said something.”

“Sorry,” he said and handed me the coffee.

“It’s not a problem.” I pulled my debit card out of my pocket to pay for the drink.

“It’s on the house,” he said. “It’s been forever since I’ve seen you. We’ll call it a welcome home gift.”

“Thanks, Brian, that’s nice of you. Where’s Amanda?”

“She had errands to run.  She’ll be in later.”

I nodded. “I guess I better get going then,” I said. I started to turn and head out the door, but I stopped. “Brian, did you know Hazel Martin? Other than from when we were kids and you would come by my house?”

“Sure, she came in nearly every day and complained I made the coffee too strong.  I suggested she add more cream, but that didn’t seem to appease her. It’s a shame someone killed her. I don’t know when the last time was that we had a murder in town.”

“It was horrible what they did to her.  Who would dress her as a scarecrow like that?” I wondered.

“It seems like an in-your-face act, doesn’t it? I hope the town doesn’t get bad press because of it. We’ve always been family friendly and it might drive people away,” he said, leaning on the front counter.

I nodded, and the door opened. We both turned to see Ethan and his partner, Jasper, walk in.

“Hey,” Ethan said, looking at me, and then over at Brian.

“Hey,” I said.

“How are you, Mia?” he asked before I could make my exit.

I smiled. “I’m good. I probably should get back to the candy shop though. I hate leaving my mom by herself for long.”

“I’m glad you spoke up at the meeting last night. It’s ridiculous that they’re using her murder as part of the reason to shut down the Halloween season. I mean, it’s a terrible thing that happened, but it doesn’t make sense they want to stop having the Halloween season because of it,” Ethan said.

“I know, I just don’t understand. It sounds like they’re jumping to conclusions.”

“What it is, is the mayor having a stake in reelection,” Jasper said. “He has people breathing down his neck about changing the town, and he wants to get votes, so he’s doing what they want.”

“Well, those of us that want things to stay the same vote, too,” I pointed out. “And who is that Mr. Crownover and why did he suggest we end the Halloween season?”

“That would be the mayor’s brother-in-law,” Jasper said. “He’s lived here about two years, I think.”

I groaned. “He has no stake in this town, then. It’s none of his business.”

“Maybe the mayor thinks people that don’t like the Halloween season outnumber those that do,” Brian said.

I sighed and took a sip of my coffee. “So many families depend on the Halloween season. It’s unfair to try to take that away from them.”

“What about a website, like you mentioned?” Ethan asked me. “Do you know how to build a really nice one? I can build a very simplified website, but then there’s driving traffic to it and advertising.  Do you think it can be done without spending a lot of money?”

I smiled. I might finally be able to put one of my master’s degrees to work. “I think I might be able to help with that. I have a master’s degree in web and business development. I want to do something big.”

Ethan grinned.  “Sounds like you came home at just the right time.”

“I’ll say,” Brian said.

Maybe I really had come home at just the right time. And maybe all that studying hadn’t been in vain. I wasn’t sure I could save the town, but if there was a chance, I was going to give it my all.

“I’ll give it a try. I’ll need help from all of you. Maybe we can save Halloween for Pumpkin Hollow.”

“Sounds like a great idea,” Brian said. “I know Amanda and I would be grateful. I hate to see people try to run small businesses into the ground. We have rights, too.”

I nodded. “My mom and dad would be devastated. They inherited the candy store from my grandparents. I have a lot of old black and white pictures of my grandparents when they were young and working in the candy store. We still have the original display case from when the store first opened. I should blow up some of those pictures and frame them. They’d look awesome on the wall of the candy store.”

“That would be very cool,” Ethan said.

“Well, I better get back. I’ll talk to you all later,” I said and headed to the door.

***

I had a great idea while experimenting with a pumpkin truffle recipe earlier in the day. If all the business owners with a Halloween theme banded together, we could convince the city council how much we needed the Halloween season.

That evening, I sat on my bed with my laptop and created a flyer inviting business owners as well as interested citizens to an impromptu meeting Friday evening. I made it cute with pumpkins and bats bordering the page. I was going for an urgent call to action message, but I hoped it didn’t sound desperate. The last thing I wanted was for people to feel like we didn’t have a chance of winning.

When I was satisfied, I sent the flyers to my printer. If I could hand out at least a hundred of these, we would have a decent sized group. I could also post some in different places around town and put a notice in the local happenings groups on social media.

Maybe if we all worked at it, we really could save the Halloween season, and in turn, Pumpkin Hollow.

--8--

I was scooping orange and black candy dots out of a box and putting them into the display case when Martha Mayes came into the candy store.

“Good morning, Mia,” she said. “My grandchildren are visiting this weekend and I want to get some taffy.”

I smiled. “Good morning, Martha. We just got some in,” I said, motioning toward a bulk bin.

Martha went to the bin and picked up one of the Halloween print paper bags that sat below the bin. We had just gotten a fresh supply of the bags in. During the off-season, we used white paper bags, but with Labor Day less than a week away, we were gearing up for the Halloween season.

“These sure are good,” she said, scooping some of the multi-colored taffy into her bag.

“Yes, they are,” I said and closed the display case. “My mother said she's going to make vanilla taffy in the next few days. The store bought taffy is good, but you don’t want to miss the handmade taffy.”

“I’ll have to stop back by and get some of the vanilla taffy when she makes it. Mia, I was sure sorry to hear it was you that found Hazel the other day,” she said, closing the lid to the bulk bin and folding over the top of the paper bag. “What an awful thing to see.”

“It was rather unpleasant,” I said, picking up a box from the floor and opening it. Inside were two-dozen orange and black votive candles I was going to set around the shop to help with the Halloween ambiance. “I feel bad for Hazel. I haven’t heard if they know how she died. Have you?”

“No, not a word. I will say I don’t feel especially bad about her dying. You have no idea how many calls I got from her a week.” She walked up to the counter and put the bag down. Martha was the manager of the homeowners association for my parents’ neighborhood and was in charge of making sure everyone complied with the rules.

“You don’t mean that,” I said. I knew Hazel was a pest, but it was beyond me how anyone could say they didn’t feel bad about someone’s murder.

“Actually, I do. I tell you, Mia, she was something else. She had laser vision and the minute someone’s grass was higher than one inch, I got a call. And heaven forbid someone had a garden gnome in their front yard. That Stella Moretti was at the top of her list to complain about, but you and your parents were up there, too. Oh, how she complained about you father having the television on too loud.”

I stared at her. She smiled and chatted as if we were discussing the weather. I knew Hazel had complained about my parents, but I didn’t want to hear the details. It was like eavesdropping, only I hadn’t done the eavesdropping. Martha was forcing it on me.

“Is this all for you?” I asked, motioning toward her bag.

“That will do it.  Of course, I’ll be in next weekend to let the grandkids pick out their own candy. This is just for starters,” she said and laughed. 

I smiled back at her. Martha was middle-aged and wore too much makeup. She had always been a pleasant woman, but this wasn’t a pleasant conversation. At least it wasn’t pleasant for me.

“Great,” I said and weighed the bag. “I hope they find the killer soon.”

“Oh, I’m not worried. They did us all a favor,” she said, digging through her purse. “I’m sure Hazel pushed someone too far, and it was curtains for her.”

“I don’t mean to be rude, but that’s not nice. She was a human being,” I pointed out. I wanted to say so much more, but she was a customer and my mother had always taught me to be nice to customers.  Or at least as nice as possible.

“Oh, Mia, I’m sorry.  I guess I’m not being nice, am I? You’re right. She was a person and I’m sure there has to be someone somewhere that will grieve for her.  I don’t know who that could be, but I’m sure there’s one somewhere.” She chuckled and held up her debit card while I rang up her candy.

I smiled and motioned toward the card reader. I didn’t comment though. I wouldn’t get anywhere with her. It did seem odd she was so jovial about Hazel being dead. Regardless of the fact that Hazel had made a nuisance of herself, it wasn’t normal for someone to be happy about a murder.

I handed her a receipt. “Thank you, Martha.”

“Thanks, sweetie,” she said and took her candy and left.

“Who was that?” Mom asked, untying her apron with one hand. She had been making fudge in the back room and she carried a tray of it to put in the display case.

“Martha Mayes. She seems inordinately pleased that Hazel was murdered.”

“Really?” she asked, opening the display case.

The scent of fudge drifted over. As long as I had worked in the candy shop, I never tired of the smell of chocolate.

“Yes. Kind of strange, if you ask me.”

“I heard she was under a lot of stress because Hazel called her to complain all the time. Vivian Jones said Martha had to see a therapist to help her cope.”

“She seems to be coping just fine, now,” I said, sitting down on one of the stools behind the counter.

Mom nodded. “I’ve interviewed three candidates for the part-time positions. Two more to go.”

“That’s great. We really need the help,” I said.

The bell over the door jingled as the door swung open.

“Hi, Mrs. Jordan. Mia,” Ethan said, nodding.

I smiled. I was glad Ethan was worried about the town losing its Halloween theme. It made me feel a little kinder toward him.

“Hi,” I said and tried not to smile too big.

“Hello, Ethan,” Mom said. “Mia told me about the city council meeting. It would be a travesty if we lost the Halloween season.  I’m glad you’re going to help Mia come up with a website to help with visitors.”

Ethan smiled bigger. “I’ve talked to a number of people that are against canceling Halloween. I think if we all band together, we can stop it. Too much is at stake.”

I nodded. “That’s great, and I have an idea,” I said, slipping down off the stool and handing him the flyer I made the night before.  “We can get together and have a think tank or something. Stir up some excitement over the season.”

Ethan smiled as he read the flyer. “This a great idea. I bet we can come up with a solution to our problem.”

“I think having a town council meeting for the part of town that owns businesses on Spooky Avenue and Goblin Lane is a fantastic idea,” Mom said.

“And also for the citizens that are on our side. I think if we hand out these flyers, we could get a lot of people to show up,” I said, and leaned against the front counter.

“I knew I came to the right place,” Ethan said. “This is exactly what we need. We can come up with a way to make more money for the town. But I really think Jasper is right, and it’s just a ploy by the mayor to get votes for another term.”

“I don’t doubt it,” I said. “But we can’t take any chances. We have to be proactive.”

“That’s off the record, by the way,” he said. “I don’t want any trouble at work. The chief is the mayor’s cousin.”

I gasped. “I had no idea. I have been away too long. The chief of police is the mayor’s cousin and the guy trying to stop the Halloween season is his brother-in-law. Now I’ve heard everything.”

Ethan grinned. “Yup. Welcome to small town politics. You’ve still got to watch what you say to who around here.”

I groaned. “That’s one thing I didn’t miss while I was gone.”

 “I’ve got more fudge to make,” Mom said and excused herself.

“That fudge smells so good,” he said. “I need to get some.”

I nodded and went to the display case. “How much?”

“A quarter pound. I’ll try not to eat it all at once,” he said with a grin.

I used a spatula to scoop up a small slab my mother had already cut and put it into a paper bag. “Good luck with that. Ethan, do they know how Hazel died?”

“Autopsy results aren’t back yet, but from the bruising, they think she may have fallen or was possibly beaten.”

“Oh, no,” I said. “That’s horrible. That makes me sick to hear.”

He nodded. “It looks more like a fall, but we won’t know for a while.”

“Do you know Martha Mayes?” I asked him. I probably should have left well enough alone, but it bothered me she was so happy about Hazel’s murder.

He shrugged. “I know of her, but I don’t really know her. Why?”

I shrugged. “It just seems like a lot of people are happy Hazel is dead. It bugs me, I guess.” I went to the cash register and rang up his fudge.

“It does seem like a lot of people are happy about it, but Hazel had a way with people,” he said and ran his debit card through the card reader.

“I wonder if she knew she wasn’t liked.”

He grinned. “I bet she did. I’ve talked to a lot of people about her death, and it seems she didn’t care what other people thought of her.”

I nodded. “I suppose so.”

I hated to see anyone ganged up on and that’s what this felt like. Someone needed to find her killer, and I thought I might just ask around a little. Maybe someone would tell me something they wouldn’t tell the police. As awful as Hazel had been, she still deserved justice.

--9--

“Good morning, Stella,” I said, leaning up against her counter. “I’d like two crullers, please.”

Stella sat on the stool behind the counter and sighed. “Really? You couldn’t make it in here when those last customers were here?”

“What?” I asked, confused. “You mean the ones I just passed out on the sidewalk?”

“Yeah. Them.”

“Um, why?” I asked.

“Because I just sat down and now I have to get up again.”

“Oh. Sorry,” I said. I didn’t know how Stella stayed in business. She was almost as cranky as Hazel had been.

She sighed again and slid off the stool. “No problem.” The sarcasm in her voice told me otherwise.

“Thanks,” I said as she washed her hands. I read the chalkboard on the wall while I waited for her to get my crullers. In the bottom left-hand corner, there was a note that said, baker’s dozen donuts, $9.00. Beneath that, it said, thirteen donuts.

“So, if I get a baker’s dozen donuts how many donuts will I get?” I asked, feeling a little wicked.

“A baker’s dozen,” Stella replied, putting plastic gloves on.

“What’s the count?”

“Thirteen. Didn’t your mother ever tell you how much a baker’s dozen is?”

“How come you wouldn’t give Hazel thirteen donuts when she bought the baker’s dozen?” I asked.

“Because I didn’t like her,” she said. “Any other questions?”

I eyed her. Stella was something else. It made me wonder if she had something to do with Hazel’s demise. “Stella, did you kill Hazel?” 

I figured it wouldn’t hurt to straight out ask.  And maybe she’d give herself away in her response.

She snorted. “Please. Like I’d tell you. You’d run downtown and tell the police.”

This surprised me. “So, you did kill her?”

“Did I say that?” she asked, picking up two crullers and putting them into a white paper bag.

“No, but you didn’t deny it either.”

“Whatever. That’s two dollars and fifty cents.”

I pulled two dollars and two quarters out of my pocket and handed them to her. “Stella, Labor Day is less than a week away. Maybe you should get some cute Halloween themed paper bags. Customers love them.” I looked around the bakery. It was devoid of Halloween decorations.

“Why? The mayor is going to do away with Halloween season. And good riddance to it, I say. I’m tired of this silliness.”

“Why do you say that? You’ve lived here all your life. You have a bakery on Spooky Lane and you make your living off the Halloween season. I don't understand why you feel that way.”

“Tell me something I don’t know. This celebration has been a curse on the whole town. We need to change it up. People don’t come to my bakery during the off-season because it’s way over here near the edge of town and everyone thinks of this area as the Halloween area. They think we’re only open during the holidays.  They don’t even think about coming here during the off-season.”

“Why do you say that? We all get regular business during the off-season. I see customers in here all the time.”

“The Halloween theme makes us separate. And if we weren’t separated over here, more people would come. I’m sure of it. You mark my words. When we get rid of Halloween, you’ll see more business at your candy store.”

“What do you mean separated? We aren’t separated,” I said. Stella wasn’t making sense.

“Sure we are. There are us, the Halloween freaks, and them. The regular business owners.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” I said. “People go to whichever business they need or want. There’s no separation.”

Stella rolled her eyes. “It’s like an imaginary divide in people’s heads. Sure, some people shop here all year. But how many don’t even come over here unless it’s Halloween because they think we are seasonal businesses?”

She handed me the white paper bag. I had never thought of it like that and I suddenly wasn’t sure she was completely wrong. On more than one occasion I had run into people that said they had forgotten about the candy store because they considered it a seasonal business. I had always assumed it was just a fluke and that other people didn’t think that way. Was I wrong? Would business be better for all of us if we dropped the Halloween season?

“See?” Stella said. “I got you thinking, don’t I?”

I shook my head. “No. No, you’re wrong. I’m sure of it. Here’s a flyer,” I said, laying one on the counter. “We’re going to work on saving the Halloween season and we would appreciate it if you would come out and support us. Thanks for the crullers.”

“I hate the Halloween season. I won’t be there,” she said.

I headed out the door, letting it slam shut behind me. Stella had to be wrong. I would bet anything she was. Only, there was this sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach that hadn’t been there before. I took a deep breath and headed back to the candy store.

When I opened the door to the shop, there was a man in a black suit standing at the counter talking to my mother. He turned and smiled at me.

“Mia, dear, this is Detective Johnson. He wanted to ask us about finding Hazel.”

“Oh,” I said and went behind the counter to stand next to Mom.

He offered me his hand. “Pleased to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you,” I said, shaking his hand.

“Can you tell me what happened when you found Hazel Martin?” he asked me.

I glanced at my mother. “Sure. We had just gotten home from work and I looked over at Hazel’s house. There was a scarecrow on the bench on her porch and I went to check it out. It was Hazel.” My heart pounded in my chest and I hoped he couldn’t hear it. I was being silly, I told myself. The detective was just doing his job and there was no reason to feel anxious. But, I did.

“When was the last time you spoke to Hazel before her death?”

“That morning. She didn’t like that Stella Moretti down at the bakery wouldn't give her thirteen donuts.”

“What?” he asked, confused.

“A baker’s dozen. They disagreed on the number.” I glanced at my mother again.

“I see,” he said. “And why is that important?”

“It was important to Hazel. She insisted Stella give her thirteen donuts, but Stella only gave her twelve and it made her angry. Now that Hazel’s dead, Stella’s advertising that a baker’s dozen is thirteen.” I didn’t think it would mean anything to him, but I wanted him to know. I also wanted to tell him about the affair Hazel had had with Vince Moretti, but I wasn’t sure my mother would like it if I told him.

“I see,” he repeated and made a note.

“We already told the police what happened,” I pointed out. 

I didn’t know Pumpkin Hollow had a detective. I thought I would ask Ethan about it. If the city had money to pay for a detective when we rarely had murders or violent crime, then why did the mayor say we didn’t have money for the Halloween season?

“I understand. I just want to go over everything,” he said without looking up from his notebook. “Can you tell me anything else about your relationship with Hazel Martin?”

I shook my head when he looked up at me. “There’s nothing to tell. She was our neighbor all my life. Sometimes she would come in and buy candy.” I shrugged. If he had spoken to many people, he already knew she was difficult to get along with. I was beginning to wish I had never checked on Hazel. No one would be questioning me if I hadn’t gone to see about the scarecrow sitting on her bench.

The detective asked a series of questions we had already answered with the police and then bought some fudge before leaving. When the door closed behind him, I looked at Mom.

“I don’t like this.”

“I’m sure it’s fine. The police want to make sure they get the whole story. Investigating a murder can't be easy.”

I opened the paper bag and took a cruller out and handed the bag to her.

“I don’t like being asked the same questions over and over. I feel like they have their eye on us,” I said and took a bite of my cruller.

“I don’t think that’s it. I think they don’t have enough information to solve the murder. I’m sure they want to solve it since we rarely have murders here.”

“I think it had to be someone that knew Hazel really well. The problem is, no one liked her and it could be anyone.”

“I bet someone liked her,” Mom said and took a bite of her cruller. “These are always so fresh.”

“Did you like her, mom?” My mother was a look-on-the-bright-side kind of person. I admired that in her, but I had a more suspicious nature. People usually had a reason for doing the things they did and sometimes it wasn’t for a good reason.

Mom studied her cruller before answering. “I have to admit, she was difficult. We all knew that. But I can’t say I disliked her, either. She just had her issues.”

I sighed. “Issues, indeed.”

I took another bite of my cruller and made a decision to figure out who murdered Hazel so the police would leave my mother and me alone.

--10--

By the time I pulled into my driveway, I was worn out from worrying about the detective stopping by the shop as well as whether the Halloween season was hurting our business. I was torn. I had all these wonderful childhood memories of all the Halloween events. I could pull out any photo album in my parent’s house and flip through countless pictures of my younger sister and I dressed as princesses, witches, and mermaids enjoying the season as it was meant to be. Would we lose all that? Should we lose all that? The taxes for the business district where the candy shop was located were high. They had to be. They supported much of the Halloween activities. But other businesses in the community supported the Halloween season, too. I sighed. I needed a hot shower and a good night’s sleep.

I got out of my car and looked over at Hazel’s house. No one had stopped by yet to check that everything was in order. I knew she had to have relatives. Where were they? I hoped at least one person in her life grieved for her. It would mean they had loved her. As my eyes traveled over the white bench on the porch, a picture of Hazel’s slumped-over body flashed across my mind. I shook my head to clear it. I didn’t want to see anything like that ever again.

I turned to head to the house when I heard someone swear. I turned back toward Hazel’s house. Mr. Gott lived on the other side and he was working on a lawnmower, pulling on the starter over and over. He pulled it and released it. Pulled it and released it. He straightened up a moment and looked at the mower, hands on his hips.

Mr. Gott was elderly, and I expected it took a lot out of him to get the lawn mower started. I headed over to see if I could help out.

“Hi, Mr. Gott,” I said as I approached.

He turned and looked at me, his white hair falling across his forehead. He pushed it back and smiled at me. His grass had grown far past the legal length the homeowners association allowed and I was sure he was worried he would get a letter.

“Hello, Mia, how are you?” he asked.

“I’m fine. Having trouble with the lawnmower?”

He nodded. “The stupid thing doesn’t want to work. Not that I blame it. I don't like working, either,” he said with a chuckle. Mr. Gott was usually good humored, except for when he had a run in with Hazel. It seemed his long, overgrown grass had been an issue for her. One that she had never allowed to slide past her.

“Can I try?” I asked.

He nodded and motioned for me to go ahead.

I set my purse down on the sidewalk, then went to the mower, took hold of the starter handle and pulled. The engine sputtered, then went silent. I tried again, pulling and releasing quickly like my father had taught me years ago. It sputtered and stopped several times, then caught.

I looked up at Mr. Gott and he was smiling. “Thank you, Mia!” he said over the roar of the engine.

“I’ll do it for you,” I said, taking hold of the handle. The day had turned out warm and Mr. Gott was already sweating. His front yard was nice and flat and not very large. I was tired, but I figured I could do it in less than fifteen minutes.

He nodded and shouted, “thank you!”

I picked up my purse and set it on his porch, then got to work pushing the mower around the yard. The mower rolled easily and the physical exercise felt surprisingly good.

When I finished Mr. Gott handed me a glass of ice water. “You don’t know how much I appreciate this.”

“It’s no problem,” I said between gulps of water. It felt good and tasted clean, washing down my parched throat.

“I need to get an electric mower. I’m tired of fighting with this one,” he commented.

I nodded. “The gas ones are hard to start,” I said. “Mr. Gott, did the police question you about Hazel’s death?”

He snorted. “Of course they did. Like I would know anything. I told them I wasn’t a bit sorry she was dead.”

“You did? Aren’t you afraid to tell the police something like that?” I asked.

“What for? It’s the truth and I find you should always tell the police the truth. She was always reporting me, plus she let her cat out to do its business beneath my rose bushes.” Mr. Gott's mouth pressed together in a straight line.

”Oh,” I said. I didn’t tell him Hazel didn’t have a cat and it must have been someone else’s. “Well, I feel kind of bad she died the way she did. And then dressing her as a scarecrow just added insult to injury.”

“She had it coming. I’d say someone was trying to send a message. That woman should have kept her mouth shut and her nose out of people’s business.”

I was taken aback by his anger. I nodded. “She was a busy body.”

“I won’t miss her a bit. I couldn’t stand the woman.”

I nodded. I had underestimated the anger people had toward Hazel.

“Did you happen to see or hear anything unusual that day?”

“Not a thing,” he said, shaking his head. He had white bushy eyebrows that came together when he was angry.

“Well, I had better get going,” I said, handing him the glass back. “I’ll see you later, Mr. Gott.”

“Okay,” he said. “Thanks again for mowing my lawn. I wish all neighbors were as kind as you.”

“You’re welcome,” I said over my shoulder and retrieved my purse.

As I stepped over onto Hazel’s property, a police cruiser pulled up to the curb of Mr. Gott’s house. I stopped and squinted my eyes at the car. Ethan waved from behind the steering wheel. I waited for him to get out of the car.

“Hi Mia, how are you?” he called.

I nodded. “I’m fine,” I said and headed back toward Mr. Gott’s house. “What are you doing in this neck of the woods?”

“I just need to speak to Mr. Gott. How are you Mr. Gott?” he asked him.

“I’m fine.  What do you want?” he asked, sounding curt.

“I just need to go over what we discussed the other day,” Ethan said.

“Well, it hasn’t changed any. Did you expect it to?”

Ethan smiled. “I did not expect it to change, no sir. But you know how we police are. We like to get all the facts and then make sure they’re accurate.”

Mr. Gott snorted. “You all waste your time and the tax payer’s money.”

I smiled at Ethan. “I better get home and help my mother with dinner. I’ll talk to you later.”

“I’ll see you later,” Ethan said.

"Good bye, Mr. Gott," I called over my shoulder.

It seemed odd that Ethan was questioning Mr. Gott again, and I wondered if the detective had also stopped by to talk to him. I wished I had asked Mr. Gott that question. Mr. Gott was a nice neighbor, but sometimes he could be a little cantankerous. If Ethan weren’t careful, he would get an earful.

It was a little crazy that Mr. Gott would admit to being glad Hazel was dead, and I wondered if that was why the police kept stopping by to question him.

I sighed and opened my front door. The invigorating feeling I had gotten from mowing had worn off and I was tired again. 

--11--

“We’re getting a shipment of supplies tomorrow,” Mom said as she stood at the stove, stirring a bubbling pot of spaghetti sauce.

“Halloween supplies?” I asked, mixing some minced garlic into softened butter. Spaghetti night was one of my favorites.

“Yes, along with the sugar and regular supplies. I hope they don't take the Halloween season away from us. It would be a shame.”

“I don’t think they will. Or at least, I hope not. But if they do, candy still sells. The business will be fine.” I knew we would be okay. I just didn’t want to lose our heritage of Halloween themed candy making.

“I hate that all this is going on so close to the start of the season,” she said.

“It will be fine, Ann,” my dad said. He was leaning on the kitchen doorframe, watching us cook. “Things have a way of working out. Otherwise, there are all the other holidays to make candy for.”

“I know, I know,” she said with a frown. "It just seems a shame. Oh, and I’ve decided on the two part-time employees. Andrea Stone and Lisa Anderson."

“I think those are great choices. And I think it will really help us out,” I said. I liked both girls and it made me happy Mom had chosen them.

The doorbell rang, and we all looked toward the front door.

“I’ll get it,” Dad said and went into the living room.

I cut the loaves of French bread in half and spread the garlic butter on them. I made it nice and thick so it would soak down into the bread as it baked. Garlic was a favorite ingredient of mine. It came right behind chocolate.

“There’s someone here to see the two of you,” Dad said.  

I looked up and Ethan stood in the doorway.

“Hey,” he said, smiling at my mom and then me. “Sorry to intrude. But I needed to ask you both some questions.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. Hadn’t we already been over what we had seen and done?

“Oh, sure, Ethan,” Mom said. “Would you like to stay for dinner? We’re having spaghetti and meatballs.”

I looked at my mother and gave her a warning look. I did not want to spend dinner being quizzed about Hazel’s death. Besides that, my sister Christy and her husband John were coming for dinner.

“No, thank you,” Ethan said. “I still have to finish up my shift.”

“Mia, get Ethan a bottle of water. He’s probably thirsty,” Mom said.

I sighed under my breath and stood up, wiping my hands on a dishtowel. I got a bottle of water from the fridge and handed it to Ethan.

“Thank you, Mia. Now, can you tell me, did any of you see anything suspicious at Mrs. Marten’s house in the days leading up to the murder?”

“I never noticed anything,” my dad said.

“Me either,” I said. “Everything seemed normal.”

“You know," Mom said thoughtfully. "She did seem to get a lot of packages that last week. I saw the UPS man there almost every afternoon.”

“But nothing unusual? Besides getting a lot of packages?” Ethan asked.

“No, not really. She made the rounds of the neighborhood quite often. Perhaps one of the other neighbors saw something unusual, or maybe she talked to them about something,” Mom said.

“We’ve already been over this,” I pointed out. “We really didn’t see anything.”

“Mr. Gott said there was a noise late the night before she died. He thought it was coming from Mrs. Martin’s house on the side closest to your house. Did any of you hear anything?”

I shook my head and turned the oven on to preheat. 

Wait a minute. Mr. Gott said he didn’t hear anything.

“I didn’t hear a thing,” Mom said.

“Are you sure he said he heard a noise? Because a few minutes ago he told me he didn’t hear anything that night,” I said.

“Hm,” Ethan said. “Maybe he’s confused which night it was that he heard the sound.”

“Maybe,” I said. Mr. Gott was getting up there in age. He could have been confused about the whole thing.

“And you said you saw her at the candy store the morning of the murder?” he asked, looking at me.

I nodded. “Yes, that’s what I told you the last time we talked. Hazel stopped in and was upset that she couldn’t get a baker’s dozen donuts. Which, by the way, is what Stella Moretti is now selling. Thirteen donuts, not twelve. I think it’s odd that as soon as Hazel died, she started selling them that way to other people.”

“Stella never liked Hazel,” Dad said. “Whenever I went into the bakery, she complained about Hazel. I think they were women that liked to complain about other people, to tell you the truth.”

“I see,” Ethan said and made a note in his notebook.

“I didn’t know Pumpkin Hollow had a detective,” I said. “The mayor is complaining about not having money for the Halloween season, yet we can afford a detective?”

“Oh, that’s just Johnson. We’re borrowing him from Greenwood. We don’t have one on staff. That’s why I’m interviewing people, too,” he said, holding up his notebook.

“Still, it’s got to cost something,” I said.

“That’s true,” he said. “But I’m not privy to that kind of information.”

The front door opened, and we all turned to look. My sister Christy and her husband, John, walked through the door. Christy held a bowl of salad in her hands.

“Hey, everyone,” she said and looked at Ethan. “Hi, Ethan.”

“Hi Christy, hi John. How are you two?”

“We’re fine," Christy said. "Are you joining us for dinner?”

He shook his head. “No, I’m just asking your mom and sister a few questions about Hazel Martin’s death.”

“That was terrible. But I can kind of see where she got on people’s nerves.”

“You don’t know anything about her death, do you?” I asked her. I was being a smart aleck.

She smirked. “Yeah, right after I had my nails done, I stopped by and stuffed her with straw. You have to admit it was kind of fitting, in a way.”

“What do you mean?” Ethan asked.

She shrugged. “She hated anything to do with the Halloween season, and she hated people decorating their yards. In death, she was turned into a great big Halloween decoration for her own yard. The killer’s got a wicked sense of humor, pardon the pun.”

John chuckled. “That is kind of twisted.”

“Don’t make fun of the dead,” Mom said. “It’s not right.”

“She isn’t going to come back and haunt me. I don’t think,” Christy said, setting the bowl of salad down on the table.

“She would if she could,” I said and put the garlic bread into the oven.

“Well, I suppose I should let you folks enjoy your dinner,” Ethan said. I think he had had enough of our less than sensitive humor.

“You should stay. We’ll be nice,” Christy said.

“I’ve got a shift to finish,” Ethan said. “You all will let me know if you remember anything, right?”

I nodded. “You’ll be the first we call. I hope you find the killer. I’d hate for them to be running around town, maybe thinking about who to murder next.”

“Oh, Mia,” Mom said. “Don’t say that. I’m sure whoever it is won’t kill anyone else. At least I hope not.”

“I’ll see you to the door,” my dad said and led the way for Ethan.

“So, are you two suspects?” John asked.

I rolled my eyes. “We better not be. I was trying to do a good deed when I went over there that night. I really regret it now.”

“Never regret a good deed, dear,” Mom said. “It will come back to you some day.”

I sighed and sat down. All I wanted was for Hazel’s killer to be arrested and the Halloween season saved.

--12--

It was Friday evening, and I was standing on the gazebo at Pumpkin Hollow Park waiting on other Halloween business owners to show up. I had handed out flyers to everyone I could think of and posted them all over town. The Baptist church loaned me some folding chairs, and I set them up in rows, hoping they would all be filled for the meeting. I was pleased we already had a small group eagerly waiting for the meeting to begin and my fingers were crossed, hoping for more.

A police cruiser pulled up and parked at the curb. I squinted my eyes and saw it was Ethan. I wasn’t sure whether to be happy he was here, or stay mad at him because he was asking my mother and me about the murder again.

He got out of his car and sauntered over. “Hey, Mia,” he said with a nod.

“Hi Ethan,” I returned. I had a paper with notes I wanted to remember creased in my hands and I looked down at it and straightened it out.

Ethan looked around. “It looks like we’ll have a nice turnout.”

I smiled. We.

“I was hoping for a few more people,” I said. I glanced at my watch. We still had ten minutes until we started. Fourteen business owners had shown up along with a handful of others, and I was less than excited with that number. Now was the time to stand up for our rights and the more that showed up, the better chance we had at success.

“Give it a few more minutes,” he said, leaning against the gazebo wall.

“Anything new on the murder?” I asked while we waited.

 He shook his head. “If there is, I haven’t been informed.”

“Seems like you could spend your time better by looking for more clues and not talking to the same people over and over.”

If I could, I would have sucked those words right back into my mouth. I was thinking them, but I hadn’t meant to say them.

He gave me a sideways look. “I’m just doing my job. I’m not pointing fingers at anyone.”

“Sorry,” I said and looked away.                                                

“Mia, I know you didn’t kill Hazel. Do you still think I suspect you?”

I shrugged. “It seems like you might have your eye on me or my mother.”

He chuckled. “Guilty conscience? Maybe I should take a closer look.”

I gasped. “No, I do not have a guilty conscience! I just don’t like being accused of murder after I did a good deed by checking on Hazel. Or rather, by checking on the odd Halloween decoration on her porch which turned out to be her.”

“You were never accused,” he said. “I think your imagination may be getting the best of you. Don’t worry about it.”

“Fine, I won’t,” I said as three more cars pulled up and parked at the curb. I smiled when Amanda and Brian got out of one of the cars.

“We just might have a lot of support,” Ethan said, watching as two more cars pulled up behind the three.

“We might,” I said. “Ethan, can I ask you why you want this?”

“It’s my town, too. I protect and serve it every day and I grew up here, just like you did. Why wouldn’t I want to save the Halloween season?”

I nodded and thought I might be a bit of a jerk in the way I was treating him. “I’m glad you’re here to support us,” I said.

He studied me a minute. “My parents wanted me to be a lawyer or a doctor. But I couldn’t imagine moving away. I guess I could have come back after getting my education, but I had no desire to be either one of those professions.”

“Yeah? It takes a lot of guts to go against what your parents want,” I said, nodding.

“Why did you come back?” he asked.

I smiled and looked away. “I had big dreams. A part of me couldn’t wait to get away from this small town where everyone seems to know everything about everyone. But when I got out there in the big world I didn’t know what to do with myself. I got a few degrees, decided I wasn’t happy, and moved home.”

“Some people just take longer to learn,” he said with a grin. “At least I was smart enough to stay where I belonged.”

“Some of us take a little longer to figure things out,” I said, trying not to sound defensive.

I glanced at my watch again. It was 7:00. “Well, here goes,” I said. I stood up and went to the edge of the gazebo.

“Excuse me,” I said as loudly as I could. No one turned in my direction. A microphone would have made it easier, but I didn’t know anyone that had one. I looked at Ethan.

He straightened up and cupped his hands around his mouth. “Ladies and gentleman.  Can we have your attention?”

When people turned in our direction and stopped talking, Ethan continued. “Mia Jordan would like your full attention, please.”

I smiled at him and then turned to the small crowd. “As most of you know, the city council is considering ending the Halloween season. I know most of you grew up here in this town and have fond memories of Halloween celebrations and traditions. It would be a shame to lose them.  It’s what makes our town unique. I believe we need to fight for the town and for the season. We need to get together and figure out a way to make extra money, both for ourselves and to make the season profitable for the city. I called this meeting so we could put our heads together and come up with some ideas. Does anyone have any suggestions?”

Fagan stood up.

“I say we get rid of the mayor and his no good brother-in-law. The two of them are trying to run this town into the ground. I don’t know how he got into office to begin with.”

I glanced at Ethan. “This meeting isn't about getting rid of the mayor. It's about figuring out what to do to save the season.”

Fagan rolled his eyes and sighed. “Getting rid of the mayor will save the season.”

“Yes, but, I think voting the mayor out of office will take a long time and we need something short term and more specific to saving the Halloween season.”

“Who said anything about voting the mayor out?” Fagan said and looked around him. There was a murmur that went up and some heads nodded in agreement.

“Why don’t we concentrate on strategies to improve business?” Ethan said. “I think that would be more productive.”

I gave Ethan a look that said, "thanks for being here."

“Fine,” Fagan said. “You mentioned advertising and using the Internet to bring in more business at the city council meeting. Have you done anything with that yet?”

“I’ve been working on a city website focusing on the Halloween season with a visitor’s guide, but I’m not done with it,” I said. “It shouldn’t be too much longer though.”

“I think that’s our best bet,” he said. “People need to know what we have to offer. In recent years it seems like we’ve slipped off of many people’s radars.”

I nodded. “I do too.”

George Givens from the gift shop stood up. “I was thinking maybe we could have town guides to take visitors around to various events on the weekends. We have the horse drawn wagons at the haunted farmhouse.  What if we extended it and had a fixed route to take people from place to place? Residents could be told in advance so they would be careful of the horses, and people could pay to ride.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” I said. “I like that.” I looked at Ethan and he smiled and nodded.

“I was thinking we might add a county fair of some sort,” Erica Johnson said, standing up. “You know, like an old fashioned one. We could charge for events. It would only have to be on weekends and it would provide part-time jobs to townsfolk.”

I smiled and nodded. People had been thinking about saving the Halloween season.  They cared what happened, and I felt my eyes tear up. I had been afraid no one would care, and I had never been so happy to be wrong.

Elle Woods stood up, flipping her red hair over her shoulder. “We need someone to judge the pumpkin carving contest this weekend.  Will you do it, Mia? You could be our key contact person for all things Halloween. We’ve never been organized enough to have a contact person.”

“We used to have someone,” Fagan pointed out. “It was the mayor. But ever since Stan Goodall was voted in, he’s refused to do it. That’s the real reason the Halloween season has suffered.”

There was a murmur that went up, punctuated with several “Yeah” and “that’s right” comments.

I didn’t want this to turn into a political argument, so I spoke up. “I’ve never done anything like that before, but I can try. At least, temporarily, until we can find someone permanent.”

I was getting excited as people talked about ideas. We might really be able to save the Halloween season. I glanced around as people tossed ideas around and I noticed Stella wasn’t there, along with a couple other business owners. I decided not to worry about it. We had far more business owners show up than were missing and most importantly, we had some excitement going on. People really wanted to save the town.

I looked at Ethan. “This might work. I’m excited.”

He nodded. “Me too. I think we’ve got something here.”

I sat down on the step and listened in on the conversations. With some organization, we could become a force to be reckoned with.

--13--

I was sitting on the gazebo steps with a brown bag lunch the next day, feeling smug. I had left the meeting the night before walking on air. The turnout had been delightful and as far as I was concerned, we would not lose the Halloween season. I felt it deep in my bones. We would fight city hall if need be, but we would not lose the celebration we all held so dear. I took a bite of my tuna sandwich and checked my phone for messages. No one from my old life had checked up on me since I had moved home and I was feeling a little dejected. 

“I’ll just have to renew acquaintances here in Pumpkin Hollow,” I murmured.

“Well, Mia Jordan. I heard all about your meeting,” I heard a voice say.

I looked up from my phone. Stella Moretti stood in front of me, her hands on her hips.

“Excuse me?” I asked.

“That stupid Halloween season. It’s a nuisance. One this town can’t afford. I don’t care how many people tell you they’ll help you save the celebrations, they won’t follow through. Oh, they’ll tell you they will, but they won’t. I know these people.” She wagged a finger at me and her bangs blew up in the light breeze.

“Stella, what do you mean? We had a good turnout last night. I think we can do this,” I said, looking up at her. “I was a little disappointed that you didn’t come.”

She snorted. “Why do you even care? You moved away for what, ten years? Twelve? Why did you bother to come back? A young educated woman like you could do anything with your life.”

“Yes, I can. And what I want to do is come home and renew the town’s values and traditions. Why are you against that, Stella? Your bakery is one of the Halloween businesses. It seems like you’d want to be more successful.” I was confused by her hostility. We all stood to make more money with increased business and if we could build a solid plan, we would have that increased business.

“Are you kidding me? Those stupid celebrations! I would make far more money if I could run my business like a normal bakery, like I told you before. But no, since it’s located where it is, I have to continue the Halloween theme. Why, I could branch out and make wedding cakes! But no one will come to a Halloween bakery for a wedding cake. Why don’t you get it?” Her lips pressed tightly together and I could see where her bright red lipstick bled into the fine lines around her mouth.

I shook my head. “Why not? Why not bake wedding cakes and advertise them? Put pictures in the advertisement so people can see you offer more than just Halloween themed baked goods.  I think it would be good if we all did that. It would help draw new customers in.”

She snorted and looked up to the sky, then back at me. “You are one clueless woman, aren’t you? This town is too small. No one thinks outside the box. We’re stuck with this Halloween theme unless we completely do away with it.”

“We are not going to do away with it. I can assure you of that,” I said, looking her dead in the eye. “And I would be glad to help you bring more business into the bakery in any way I can. Honestly, Stella, we’re all in this together.”

She sighed and looked at me. When she didn’t say anything else, I looked down at the sandwich I still held in my hand.

“I guess that answers the question of why you moved back, doesn’t it?”

I looked up at her, puzzled. “What do you mean?”

“You ride in here like the Lone Ranger to save the day. But all you really want is to make money off all us hard working business owners. I bet you’ll be offering all kinds of services. For a big fat fee.”

I gasped. “Stella Moretti, that never even crossed my mind. My parents own a candy store. Why wouldn’t I want to help them and the other business owners do more business? My moving back had nothing to do with trying to make money off of people.”

“Yeah, we’ll see bout that. I’ve got to go. My husband is minding the shop. But I can tell you I’m not the only one that feels this way. I can have a little meeting, too, you know. I can gather together the people that want to drop Halloween altogether.” With that, she turned and strode back to her car.

I sighed and looked at my sandwich again. It made no sense to me that people wouldn’t support our efforts to save Halloween. I felt queasy and wrapped up the rest of my sandwich and put it back in the bag.

A police cruiser pulled up to the curb and when Ethan got out, I felt myself smile. Stop that, I scolded myself.

“Hey,” he said when he got to me.

“Hey yourself,” I said. “I just had an unpleasant conversation with Stella Moretti.”

“Oh?” he asked and sat next to me on the step.

I nodded, looking at my feet. This whole thing now made me feel a little depressed. I looked back up at him. “It seems she doesn’t want to save Halloween. I don’t get it. It’s our heritage. It’s what we’re known for.”

“Don’t let the naysayers worry you. There will be people who won’t support us. But what difference does it make? We’ll just keep working on it.”

“She said she was going to have a meeting with others that want the Halloween season to end. The mayor is on their side, so do we even have a chance?” I tried to keep the whine out of my voice, but I wasn’t sure I was successful.

“I still think the mayor isn’t serious. And we have a lot of people on our side, too. It’s way too early to give up.”

“I’m not giving up,” I protested. I hated sounding like a whiner, but if I had to be honest, I guess I was. “I will fight for this. I don’t want to do anything less.”

“Good. I’m glad to hear it. I think it’s providential that you came home when you did. We need you. Your education will come in handy.”

I smiled at him. I couldn’t help myself. Lies about spiders in my hair or not, he didn’t seem so bad. Perhaps he had grown up since seventh grade.

“I hope it is providential. We’ll put everything into it and we’ll make this happen,” I said. I didn’t want to tell him what Stella had said about my moving home to make money off the business owners. It hurt my feelings and had never even entered my mind.

“I have a good feeling about all of this,” he said.

“Have you heard anything new about Hazel’s murder?” I asked. I probably sounded nosy, but I had to ask. Someone had done it and we needed that someone off the streets of Pumpkin Hollow.

“Not much. They’re still interviewing people. Mia, you do believe me when I say I don’t suspect you, right?”

I took in a deep breath. “Yes, I know. I know you’re just doing your job and I’m not taking it personally.” That wasn’t the complete truth, but I wasn’t letting on. I just wanted the killer off the street and as long as Ethan didn’t suspect me, then I was fine.

“Good. Well, I’ve got to get back to work. And don’t worry about the Halloween season. We’re going on with it as planned.”

I hoped he was right. In the meantime I would brainstorm some ideas to get things going. I intended to make this Halloween season the best we had ever had. I wasn’t sure how I was going to go about it, but I would mange it somehow.

--14--

“Hi Mia,” Amanda said when I walked through the door of the coffee shop. “I was wondering where you’d gotten off to. What are you doing?”

“Trying to wake up. I think I need some caffeine,” I said, looking up at the menu board. The mummy’s curse latte sounded good. It had vanilla and almond flavors.

“I’m impressed with the turnout for last night’s meeting,” she said. ”Everyone had good ideas.”

“I was impressed, too,” I said. “I really think we can turn this town around. And, I think I’ll have the mummy’s curse.”

“With whip?” she asked.

I nodded. “No curse unless there’s some whip on it. Presuming the curse part is all the calories in it.”

She chuckled. “That’s true. I happen to love this kind of curse though.”

I looked around the shop. At one table sat a young mother with her toddler in tow and at another sat Mr. Gott. He was reading a newspaper and had a cup of coffee sitting on the table. 

I turned back to Amanda. “Amanda, how has business been for you guys?” I asked in a lowered voice.

She shrugged. “Not too bad. People will always buy coffee. It’ll pick up any day though, just like everyone else’s business will pick up, but it can always be better.”

I nodded. “We could use a boost in business, too. I'll have that city website done soon, but I’m not ready to unveil it yet.”

“That’s great. Maybe Brian can hire you to build one for us? He’s been talking about putting one up, but you know him. He’s a procrastinator.”

I smiled and pushed Stella’s accusation that I had come home to make money off the merchants out of my mind. I would help in any way I could.

Amanda was right about Brian. He really was a procrastinator. He had promised to take me to the winter formal in the tenth grade and hadn’t gotten round to ordering a tux for himself until the day before. It was too late by then and he had worn a too large suit of his father’s. I had been embarrassed, and a little irritated when he hadn’t gotten the tux after more than a month of near daily reminders.

She handed me my latte, and I inhaled the sweet vanilla scent. “That smells so good. Thanks,” I said, and looked at Mr. Gott sitting at a table by himself. I dug through my purse for my debit card to pay for the drink.

“Don’t worry about it, Mia. This one is on the house,” Amanda said.

“Are you sure? I can pay.”

“Positive,” she said. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Well be sure and stop by the shop for some fudge. Mom’s been working on some new Halloween flavors. We’ll make a trade for the coffee.”

“Sounds like a plan. I love your mother’s fudge,” she said.

I picked up my cup of coffee and headed over to Mr. Gott’s table. He didn’t look up as I stood by his table, so I cleared my throat. He still didn’t look up. I glanced at Amanda and shrugged.

“Good morning, Mr. Gott,” I said loud and clear. I looked at his cup of coffee. There was no lid on the cup and his coffee was black. Nothing fancy for Mr. Gott.

He looked up from his paper and focused his eyes on me.

“Morning? It’s nearly noon. But I guess by a technicality it’s still morning,” he said.

“That it is,” I said. “May I have a seat?”

He nodded and motioned to the one across from him.

“Thank you. How are you doing Mr. Gott?”

“I’m fine. I don’t have a pesky neighbor to bother me anymore, so I guess you could say I’m doing all right,” he said and grinned.

I smiled at him. I didn’t know what to say to that. I still thought it was a shame, so many people weren’t the least bit sad Hazel had died, but at the same time, she had brought so much dislike on herself.

“So, Mr. Gott, did you happen to hear anything the day Hazel died?” I asked. I wondered what he would say after telling me he hadn’t heard anything and then telling Ethan he had heard a loud noise.

He grinned bigger. “I noticed the neighborhood is quieter.”

I sighed and shook my head. “We all noticed that. I just wondered if there was anything the police might have missed is all.”

He shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“But what about the day Hazel died? Or the night before? Did you hear anything?”

“I can’t remember,” he said, and turned the page of his newspaper.

I sighed. This had been a pointless exchange. For something else to say, I asked, “The Halloween season is almost here. That’s exciting isn’t it?”

He scowled. “I don’t know how you can call it exciting. Those pesky tourists stop in and they dilly dally, driving slowly up and down the streets causing traffic jams. They should have done away with that Halloween season years ago.” He folded his newspaper over, rattling the pages.

“Now, Mr. Gott, the town relies on the Halloween season for revenue. And so many people just really enjoy it.” 

“I don’t know why you’d think people enjoyed it. It’s a mess. And who wants to look at goblins, mummies, and vampires for months on end?” He snorted and looked at his paper again.

I sighed. Trying to get him to change his mind was pointless.

“Well, Mr. Gott, it’s fun for the kids. And if you are so against it why are you drinking coffee in a Halloween coffee shop when there are other regular coffee shops in town?”

“If you must know, it’s closer to my house,” he said and stood up. “I’ve got business to attend to now. You have yourself a wonderful day and don’t let any witches cast a spell on you.” With a wink, he picked up his cup of coffee and left the shop.

I sighed again. We needed to change the minds of other townsfolk, along with bringing in new business. We had a job ahead of us.

Amanda plopped down in the chair Mr. Gott had vacated. “No love lost between Mr. Gott and Hazel, huh?”

I shook my head and took a sip of my latte. “Not a bit. But then, there was no love lost between Hazel and anyone else, either. It’s odd that no one saw or heard anything, don’t you think? I mean, whoever stuffed her clothes with straw and sat her on that bench did it in broad daylight. Why didn’t anyone see it?”

She shook her head. “I really don’t know. Has Ethan mentioned if the police have figured anything out yet?” she asked.

“No, nothing new. At least, he hasn’t told me if he knows anything. But if I had to put my money on someone, I would vote Stella Moretti. She really couldn't stand Hazel and she’s so against the Halloween season. She’s just a cantankerous person. Cantankerous. I’ve always wanted to use that word in a sentence,” I said and giggled.

“You’re so learned,” she said and laughed.

“It’s all that education. At least it isn’t going to waste.”

“I wonder what Stella would say if you flat out asked her if she murdered Hazel,” she asked.

“I did ask her the other day.”

Amanda gasped. “What did she say when you asked?”

“She was flippant, as usual. To be honest, she didn’t really answer my question.”

And that was what made me doubly suspicious when it came to Stella Moretti. The woman wasn’t right in more ways than one and if she had killed Hazel, I was going to find out.

--15--

Amanda and I decided to ask Stella if she had killed Hazel. Maybe we were crazy. Maybe she would be in a talking mood and we would find something out. But the killer needed to be caught before the tourists caught wind of what had happened. On the other hand, maybe a rumor that a murderer was on the loose would help business. Pumpkin Hollow had a reputation for being family friendly and a killer on the loose was the exact opposite of that. But maybe we could draw in another type of crowd with the rumor; those that liked slash and gore. I shivered. That wasn’t exactly my kind of Halloween.

I pushed open the door to Sweet Goblin Bakery and Amanda followed me inside. Stella was sitting on her stool behind the counter, reading her newspaper. It was Saturday, the first day of the Labor Day weekend and I expected the crowds to be here any moment, but the bakery was empty except for the three of us.

“Good morning, Stella,” I said. The bakery display case was filled with all sorts of Halloween themed donuts. Vampire’s blush raspberry filled donuts, mummy cupcakes, and black cat cookies. It surprised me a little. What wouldn’t have surprised me was if Stella had said forget it and not done anything Halloween.

She glanced up from her paper and snorted, then went back to reading it. I glanced at Amanda.

“Those donuts sure look good this morning,” Amanda said, walking up to the counter.

“They sure do,” I said. “Everything’s so nice and festive looking. Stella, those Frankenstein bars look good. I think I need those,” I pointed to the chocolate bars with Frankenstein monsters drawn on in green icing.

She sighed and folded her newspaper. “Is that it?”

“Yes, thanks. Stella, today’s the big day,” I reminded her. “We’ve got loads of customers coming and we need to greet them with a little more enthusiasm.” I probably sounded like a Pollyanna, but I didn’t care. We needed to draw more customers in, not chase them off.

“Look kid, and yeah, to me you’re still a kid, I don’t have any enthusiasm left over. The last time I had enthusiasm was when we buried my mother-in-law three years ago. So take it or leave it,” she said, sliding down from the stool. She went to the sink and washed her hands.

Stella was a ray of sunshine.

“I’m really glad you have a variety of Halloween themed pastries,” Amanda said. “Your customers will love them.” She sounded a lot more enthusiastic about it than Stella was.

“I only did it because I have left over frosting from last year. Orange isn’t a color I use very often.”

“Ew,” I said. “You’re kidding, right?”

She shrugged. “Whatever you want, toots.”

“Okay, well, how about four of the Frankenstein bars? My mother will want one and Andrea and Lisa are working today. And I agree, I’m glad you have the Halloween themed pastries. You aren’t changing your mind on the Halloween season, are you?” I was hopeful, but I knew there wasn’t much chance that would happen.

“No,” she said and slid open the glass door in the display case.

“Great. Maybe when business picks up again, you’ll change your mind,” I said.

“No,” she said and stuffed four Frankenstein bars into a plain white paper bag. “And for you?” she asked Amanda.

“Um, two maple boo bars would be nice.”

Stella picked up another paper bag and stuck two maple bars into it. “Anything else?”

Here was my chance. I glanced at Amanda for reassurance and she nodded.

“Stella, can I ask you a question?”

“You just did. Fork over the cash for the donuts,” she said and went to the cash register. I dug into my purse while she rang them up.

“Stella, do you know who killed Hazel?” I asked and handed her five dollars. I was dressed as Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz and Amanda was Tinker Bell. Our costumes were as unthreatening as they could be and I wondered if we might have chosen the wrong time to ask the question. Maybe I should have dressed as Jason from Friday the 13th. We might have gotten her to confess if I had brought a chain saw.

“Why would I know that?” she asked and handed me a quarter and a dime back.

I shrugged. “It’s a small town and you seem to have a lot of friends. I just thought maybe you had heard something by now. Or maybe one of your friends have heard something.”

She handed me my bag. “Look. No one in this town cares who killed Hazel. The sooner you and the police figure that one out, the better. Whoever did it, did the town a favor. We are at peace now. Namaste.”

I stared at her. With Stella, you never knew what you were going to get. Namaste, my foot.

“Stella, it seems like you may have had some issues with Hazel,” Amanda suggested and handed her some change for her donuts.

“Ya think?” Stella asked, taking the coins and handing her the bag.

Amanda nodded, and I felt like we might be in over our heads.

“Stella, did you have something to do with Hazel’s death?” I asked, as fast as I could. I took a deep breath.

The boredom never left Stella’s face. Her eyes went from Amanda, then back to me again.

“Are you two out of your minds? Didn’t those fancy schools you attended teach you anything?”

I glanced sideways at Amanda, but she had her eyes on Stella.

“What do you mean, Stella?” Amanda asked.

“Are you so stupid as to think I would just admit to the two of you that I killed Hazel? I mean, really? Why would I do that?” she asked. “And you--you already asked me that. What’s wrong with you?” she pointed a puffy finger at me.

“So, you did kill her, but you won’t admit it?” I asked.

Stella looked at me. Then she tilted her head back and roared with laughter. Amanda and I looked at each other. I wasn’t sure if Stella was admitting to it or not.

The laughter went on for over a minute, and then she settled down, snorted, and wiped her eyes. “You two are just precious. No. I did not kill Hazel. She was a nuisance to be sure, but I did not kill her. Now get out of my shop. I have a newspaper to read and I’m sure some of those pesky tourists will be here any minute and then I’ll have to be nice to them.”

“Oh,” I said and smiled.

“Stop it. You know I am not going to be nice to them. Now get out of here.”

I nodded. “Okay Stella, well, thanks for the donuts. Sorry about the misunderstanding.”

“Thanks for the laugh. College graduates. Funniest thing I ever heard in all my life,” she said and scooted back onto the stool with her newspaper in her hand.

We left the donut shop with our tails between our legs. I felt like an idiot. We should have kept our mouth shut.

“I’m not sure what to make of all that,” Amanda said, opening her paper bag.

“I think we made fools of ourselves,” I said. “I also think she killed Hazel.”

“Do you?” Amanda asked, looking at me as we walked down the sidewalk.

I nodded. “Stella’s a grumpy bully. I think she got tired of another bully picking on her and she lost it.  All that back there was simply her way of distracting us.”

Amanda nodded and took a bite of her donut. “These sure are fresh. I’m glad to see people are out and about already.”

And they were. It wasn’t eight o’clock yet, and most of the stores were still closed, but people were walking up and down the sidewalk, peering into windows. I inhaled deeply. I loved the Halloween season. There was nothing like it.

“I just hope Stella can try to be a little bit nice. I’d hate for her to run anyone off,” I said and pulled a donut out of my bag.

“If she isn’t nice to people, they’ll just stay away from her shop and she’ll be the one to suffer for it. People love coming here and they’ll keep coming. I have faith in that,” she said.

Amanda was right. Stella’s business might suffer because of her attitude and she would have to deal with that. The rest of us would enjoy the season and do our best to make the customers happy. And if Stella had killed Hazel, I hoped it came to light as soon as possible. One thing was for sure though. The killer was not going to get away with it if I had anything to say about it.

--16--

Amanda crossed the street, heading to the coffee shop. Brian had already opened the coffee shop for the early birds and from the look of it, he was doing a brisk business. The weather hadn’t turned cold yet, but it soon would. I had noted in previous years that the earlier in the season the weather turned cold, the more visitors flocked to Pumpkin Hollow. It seemed the cold weather put people in the mood for the holidays, regardless of what the calendar said.

A small crowd had gathered outside of the candy shop, with several people pushing their noses against the window to see inside. I smiled. The windows would need cleaning when we closed, but I didn’t care. The slower summer season was over and we would work our fingers to the bone for the next several months. I was looking forward to it.

“Excuse me,” I said and squeezed between several people to get to the front door. I pulled the key out of my pocket and stuck it into the lock. “How is everyone this morning?”

“Great,” a man wearing a Christmas sweater said. It appeared some people really wanted to push the holidays along.

“We are in desperate need of fudge,” the woman with him spoke up.

“Yes, candy! We need candy now!” another voice said.

I laughed. “I think I can do something about that,” I said and pushed the door open. I held it as the customers streamed into the shop, then let it close softly behind the last one. It was ten minutes early, but it would make the customers happy. They were paying customers, and we needed every one we could get.

“I’ve got donuts,” I mouthed to my mother and held up the white paper bag. She nodded, then smiled and greeted the customers. She was dressed as a 1920s flapper and she was rocking it. Mom had always looked fifteen years younger than she was and she looked absolutely darling as a flapper.

I put the bag behind the counter for when we had a slow moment and Mom and the girls could eat the ones I bought for them.

“Customers,” I whispered with a grin to Andrea. She nodded and smiled.

Andrea was a sweet girl, working her way through the local junior college. I remembered my first year at college and it made me a little wistful. I had so many dreams back then. Well, my dreams had changed, but I still had them. We would restore Pumpkin Hollow to its former glory. 

Andrea had dressed as a 1930s blues singer, complete with a long slinky dress. In real life, Andrea was the best singer I’d ever heard. I had encouraged her to try out for one of those talent search shows on TV. She was a sure winner.

Lisa was a high school student, and she had dressed up as a fairy. She was a cute girl with a bubbly personality and I knew the customers would love her.

I stood at the ready at the cash register and waited on people for forty-five minutes. The crowd thinned out, and I looked up to see Martha Mayes. She was dressed as a witch with a tall black pointy hat and green face makeup.

She smiled at me. “Well, that crowd was fun,” she said. "I hope we see a lot more of that this season."

“Me too. I love to see that kind of enthusiasm this early in the season,” I said.

Andrea reached for the donut bag and handed one off to my mother.

“How are you, Martha?” my mother asked, and took a bite of her donut.

“I’m fine. Things are just rosy these days. I love the Halloween season and well, to be honest, I have a lot less work to do now.”

I looked at her. “What do you mean?”

She shrugged and giggled. “Hazel Martin had me sending letters all the time. All complaints have to be looked into and to be honest, she made a lot of complaints. I was constantly driving around the neighborhoods and checking things out. Then I had to send the homeowners warning letters. Personally, I don’t mind if someone has a little yard decoration or maybe their lawn gets just a bit too high. People are busy. I understand. I guess I’ve probably mentioned that, but I’m a little giddy about not having to work so hard.”

I nodded. “I can see where that would have kept you busy.”

“I have so much spare time during the day now, I don’t know what to do with myself. I think I was doing the job of two people before and now that I only have to do the job of one, I don’t know what to do,” she said and laughed.

I smiled. This exchange was uncomfortable. “I guess things worked out for you.”

“I’m sorry Hazel was so difficult for you,” Mom said. “I can imagine how hard that was, having someone breathing down your neck all the time and making you do more work than might otherwise be necessary.”

Martha sighed. “It certainly was stressful. But thankfully, that’s all over.”

“But, a woman was murdered,” I pointed out gently. It still disturbed me that so many people didn’t seem to care that a murder had occurred.

“That’s true. I suppose I shouldn’t gloat. But my life is so much better, it’s hard not to. I do hope the police figure out who killed her. I’d like to shake his or her hand.”

I gasped and stared at her. “You can’t mean that.”

“I’m kidding!” she said and cackled with laughter. The cackle made her witch’s costume more realistic.

I glanced at Andrea, who stared at her wide-eyed.

“I’m sure you don’t mean that,” I repeated.

She shrugged. “I probably don’t. I’m sorry for her family’s loss. Well, I think I’d like two of those popcorn balls with black and orange sprinkles and I’ll be on my way.” She pointed a green finger with a prosthetic wart at the display of popcorn balls.

Andrea jumped up and took two popcorn balls from the display case and put them into wax paper bags, then into a larger Halloween printed bag and handed the bag to her. I rang Martha up and took her money. We all watched her as she exited the shop, waving at us as she left.

“I don’t get that,” Andrea said. “I didn’t really know Hazel, but even if she was a terrible person, I can’t imagine being happy someone killed her.”

“Me either,” I said. “I did know her and didn’t particularly like her. I still can’t get over people acting that way.”

“We need to make more fudge, I think,” Mom said. “I’ve already sold five pounds of it.”

“That’s good news,” I said. “I hope things really turn around this year.”

“Did you get the city website made?” Andrea asked. Her parents owned a craft shop, and they depended on the Halloween season as much as we did.

“I’m almost done. I’ve been working on it every night after work. I can hardly wait to show it off,” I said.

“I’m glad you came home, Mia,” Mom said. “I think ideas around here became old and stale a long time ago and everyone eventually gave up on the town.”

“Me, too,” I said and got to my feet as three more customers came in. “I’ll make the fudge.”

I headed to the back room and grabbed a hair net and an apron and put them on. The backroom always smelled like chocolate and I inhaled deeply. I loved the smell. I weighed out the sugar and placed it into the large pan on the stove. One large batch of fudge coming up, I thought.

I decided on a large batch of chocolate and another of peanut butter. The other flavors would probably hold out for the rest of the day. I turned the heat on low beneath the saucepan, remembering when my grandmother would make the fudge on Saturday mornings. She had been gone more than ten years, but I still missed her. I thought she would approve of my efforts to save the town and would have jumped right in to help me if she had still been here.

--17--

Saturday afternoon I had the privilege of judging the pumpkin carving contest. Tables had been set up near the gazebo at the park and I sat on the step, waiting for the bell to ring signaling the end of the contest. On one side were the adults, who were allowed sharp instruments. Cut at your own peril was the motto for the adults. On the other side were the kids, broken down by age groups. They had crayons, paints, and stickers available to do their artwork.

I wasn’t sure how I would pick winners from the kid’s groups. I didn’t want to make anyone sad by not picking their pumpkin. I looked up when a shadow fell across me.

“Hey Mia, are you ready to judge the jack-o’-lanterns?” Ethan asked.

I smiled. “I am as ready as I will ever be. I do worry about disappointing the kids though. There’s only a first through third place winner for each age group and we have around ten kids per age group.”

“I’d worry more about disappointing the adults. They have sharp implements and they look pretty serious about the whole carving thing,” he said and sat beside me.

I laughed. “On second thought, you might be right. Will you stick around to protect me?” As soon as it was out of my mouth, I regretted it. I didn’t want him to think I was a damsel in distress that needed saving.

He chuckled. “I do come armed, so I guess I could stick around.”

I smiled at him. “I’m glad. I’m also glad you’re working on finding Hazel’s killer. Someone else might not work as hard to find her killer.”

“All I’m really doing is gathering information and following up with people. I don’t know how close we are to solving the case, but I know those higher up in the department have their eyes on a couple of people. But, we still need more time.”

I nodded. “Would those people happen to be Stella Moretti or Martha Mayes?” I asked.

“I’m not at liberty to say. Are their attitudes still bothering you?”

I nodded. “I guess I shouldn’t let it get to me. I guess it’s because they’re so callous about the whole thing. Mr. Gott, too, I guess. Actually, I guess on that basis alone, I could come up with a whole list of people that could be suspects,” I said and chuckled. “I know Hazel was a pain, but it seems like people could be just a tad more sorry about her being killed like she was.”

He nodded. “Hazel didn’t mind making enemies, that’s for sure. But like I said, I can’t divulge that kind of information.”

“Maybe you should question all of them again? Maybe they’d break if the police keep questioning them.”

He chuckled. “Do we need to drag them into a room and shine a bare light bulb in their eyes and grill them?”

I smiled. “You know what I mean. It’s not that they don’t care that she died; it’s that they’re happy she died. Thrilled, even. It makes me very suspicious.”

“I guess I can ask them a few more questions. It won’t hurt anything. Unless they complain to the chief. He doesn’t like complaints.”

“Seriously? It’s a murder investigation,” I said.

He nodded. “It’s a small town, and he likes things to run smoothly.”

I shook my head at him. The bell went off, and I stood up. “Everyone needs to stop what they’re doing,” I announced. I had borrowed a bullhorn from the police department and I had power now.

I heard a couple of groans as crayons and knives were put down.

“Thank you,” I said and put the bullhorn down. I looked at Ethan. “Want to help?”

“Sure,” he said, and we strolled along the tables of carved pumpkins.

I had a clipboard to write notes. The youngest group was the four to seven-year-old age group. The pumpkins had messy paint drips, coloring out of the lines and a few well-placed stickers to look like lips.

“What’s your pumpkin’s name?” I asked a little blond haired boy.

He stuck his chest out and smiled at me. “Harold. He likes to eat jelly beans.”

I laughed. “Well, Harold is very fancy looking,” I told him. Harold had a black sticker eye patch and some plastic gemstones glued in his mouth and had a rakish tilt to his head.

We walked along, looking at each pumpkin and I made notes on the paper attached to my clipboard. The kids would all get cotton candy as consolation prizes, so it wouldn’t be terrible if they didn’t get the big prize; a trick or treat bag filled with candy, donated by yours truly.

The adult winners would get tickets to the corn maze and hayrides. Adult non-winners didn’t get a consolation prize, but we figured they were adults and they could handle it. After Ethan and I made the tour of the carving tables, we moved off to the side to consult on the winners.

“I am really liking Harold,” Ethan said. “He’s a striking pirate.”

I giggled. “I like him, too. It’s those plastic gemstones in his teeth.”

In the end, we selected the best possible winners. In the adult group, we had a pirate, a witch, and a haunted house scene. I suspected these people had done this quite a few times as there weren’t any mistakes in the cuts on the surfaces of the pumpkins.

For the kids, we chose Harold, a turkey, and a puppy in the four to seven-year-old and in the older ages, we had scarecrows, witches, and mummies.

I picked up the bullhorn and made the announcements of winners to polite applause. Ethan stood next to me and handed out the prizes.

“Well, that was an enjoyable afternoon,” Ethan said when we finished up.

“I had a lot of fun. I’m glad I moved home,” I said. I picked up a cardboard box and headed to one of the carving tables and pushed the pumpkin seeds and membranes into the box. Ethan went to the other side of the table with his own box and did the same.

“I’m glad you came home, too,” he said and pushed a large pile of seeds and pumpkin membranes into his box. I glanced at him but didn’t say anything.

“So, has anyone from Hazel’s family contacted the police?” I asked, changing the subject.

“The next of kin was notified when she died, but I haven’t heard anything else. Have you noticed anyone next door, maybe going through things in the house?”

I shook my head. “No, I kind of expected someone to show up. I imagine they’ll sell the house. Unless a family member moves in.”

“Yeah, no telling. But I bet whoever your new neighbor turns out to be, they’ll be easier to get along with than the former one,” he said with a wicked grin.

“Stop,” I said, narrowing my eyes at him. I grinned. “She was a perfectly delightful neighbor.”

“Liar.”

I laughed. “I am a liar,” I admitted.

We cleared off the tables and then wiped them down. The pumpkin carving contest had been a success. We just needed a few more weekend events like this one and we would be on our way to a more prosperous Halloween season.

--18--

“I declare the opening day for the Halloween season a success,” I said, turning the lock on the candy shop door. A few people still milled about on the sidewalk, but most had gone home for the day. I had forgotten how exhausting the season was. Every bone in my body ached.

“I agree,” Mom said, wiping down the front counter.

The two part-timers, Andrea and Lisa scurried about the shop cleaning up. I was glad we had hired them. They were making things a lot easier on Mom and I. Mostly Mom, since she did the bulk of the candy making.

“I think things will really turn around,” I said, picking up the broom and sweeping. “If I don’t fall asleep as soon as I get home, I think I can finish up the website. I’m pretty tired though.”

“That would be great," Lisa said, straightening a display of boxed candy pumpkins. “I bet it helps the town a lot.”

I nodded. I would do whatever it took to save the Halloween season. We finished cleaning up as quickly as we could and left for the evening. The morning would come all too early and I needed a shower and sleep after I worked on the website.

***

Mom pulled into our driveway and parked the car. My head was resting on the seat back and my eyes were closed. I felt myself slipping into sleep and shook myself when she turned the engine off.

“I am so tired,” I mumbled and sat up, opening my eyes. It was twilight outside. The days were getting shorter and cooler. Leaves were falling from the trees and I could hardly wait for sweater and boot weather. I loved the fall more than any other time of year.

“I’m pretty beat, too,” Mom said. “I hope your father made something for dinner. Otherwise, I think a sandwich might be in order.”

“I’m fine with a sandwich, I don’t need anything fancy. I just want to take a shower and go to bed,” I said and opened the car door.

I thought the website might have to wait after all. I either needed to exercise to build up my stamina, or I needed to sleep more to keep up with the season. I wasn’t sure which.

“I made dinner,” Dad called as we walked in the door.

“That’s great news,” Mom said. “I married the best man, ever.”

“Yes, you did. It’ll be another forty-five minutes though,” he said from the living room.

I could smell pot roast and my stomach growled. “I’m going upstairs. Call me when we’re ready to eat?” I called to whoever cared.

“You bet,” Dad said.

I trudged up the stairs and wished we lived in a single level house. My thigh muscles screamed at me and I wasn’t sure why they were so tired. It wasn’t like I had run a marathon or anything.

I pushed the door to my room open and lay down on my back on the bed. I had forgotten to turn on the light on my way to the bed, but I was too tired to get up and turn it on. My laptop was on my bedside table, and I considered opening it up and working on the website, but my eyes were tired. I closed them and lay still.

As I lay there, I became aware of a steady crunching sound. Once my mind picked up on it, I couldn’t let it go. My eyes opened, and the sleepiness was suddenly gone. Where was that coming from?

I felt a light breeze blow across my arms and face and I realized my window was halfway open. The room had been stuffy the night before and I forgot to close it when I got up this morning. I sat up and went to the window. The sound was coming from outside and I peered out.

Hazel’s house and Mr. Gott’s house were single level houses and I had a view into both back yards. Hazel’s house was dark, but Mr. Gott had a light on in his back yard. I leaned out a little further and I could just see him working in his yard. He had a shovel, and he was digging a hole. I wondered why he would do it this late in the evening. Each time he stuck the shovel into the ground, I heard the crunching sound.

I stood up straight. It was late to be working in the yard. I couldn’t imagine what he was doing. Then I thought about his little dog, Millie. She was getting old, and I wondered if she had passed away. Was Mr. Gott burying her? Should I offer to help him? My body was aching and my mind was tired. I sighed. Poor thing. Millie was all he had.

I headed out of the room and down the stairs, still dressed in my Dorothy costume. Thankfully, in this town, no one would look at me strange. We had brought home some of the leftover fudge, so I went to the kitchen and wrapped up a large piece for Mr. Gott. It might make him feel a little better.

“What are you doing, Mia?” Mom asked from the living room.

“I’m going to take some fudge to Mr. Gott,” I answered. I picked up a Halloween decorated paper bag and slipped the wrapped fudge into it, folding down the top of the bag. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Okay, dear. Don’t be too late. Dinner will be ready soon.”

I headed out the front door and over to Mr. Gott’s, crossing over Hazel’s lawn. I wouldn’t have dared do it if she were still alive. I’d never hear the end of it and we would get a letter from the homeowners association.

It was completely dark outside now and Mr. Gott’s front porch light was off. I pressed the doorbell and hoped he could hear it from the backyard.

When no one came, I pressed it again. There was still no answer, so I pounded on the door. Finally, I heard shuffling footsteps on the other side of the door.

The deadbolt slid back in its track and the doorknob jiggled, followed by the door opening.

“Good evening, Mr. Gott,” I said. “It’s me, Mia. I brought you some fudge.” I held up the paper bag with its bright Halloween print.

Mr. Gott peered over his silver wire-framed glasses at the bag. He smiled and looked at me. “Good evening, Mia. That was thoughtful of you. Why don’t you come in?”

“Sure,” I said. “But just for a minute. My dad is making dinner and it will be ready soon.”

He opened the door wider and turned around, shuffling back inside. I followed him into the darkened house and wondered when he would turn a light on. It was darker inside the house than it was outside, and I willed my eyes to adjust, hoping I didn’t trip over anything.

“Mr. Gott, do you have a light?” I asked.

“What? Oh, yes,” he said and flipped a switch that illuminated the living room.

The living room hadn’t changed since I was a little girl. The old frilly shaded lamps still sat on the maple end tables and the sofas were still covered in plastic. I smiled when Millie trotted into the room. She came to me and sniffed my leg. Then she sat down and looked up at me hopefully. Millie was a cross between a schnauzer and a Chihuahua and had loads of personality.

“Sorry, Millie, but dogs can’t have fudge,” I said and bent down, patting her head.

Mr. Gott continued into the kitchen and I followed after him with Millie on my heels. The kitchen was done in a 1980s country cow theme that Mrs. Gott had loved.

“Did you get to go downtown for the opening of the Halloween season?” I asked Mr. Gott. “It was a good one. Lots of people and that’s good for the town.”

Mr. Gott stopped and turned toward me. His face was expressionless, and he looked at me without answering. Then he turned and went to the kitchen counter and opened a drawer.

---19---

“I don’t like the Halloween season,” Mr. Gott said, rummaging through the drawer. “I told you that.”

He turned toward me and I gasped.

“Mr. Gott, what are you doing?” I asked.

He held a revolver in his hand and pointed it at me.

“I said I don't like the Halloween season," he repeated.

My mind shut down, and I went numb. I was aware of the paper bag of fudge in my hand and Millie sniffing at my heels again, but little else. 

“What are you doing with that?” I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the gun.

“Mrs. Downs said you were working very hard on keeping the Halloween season going. I do not like it. Mrs. Downs does not like it, and neither does anyone else. You should not have come back to Pumpkin Hollow, Mia,” he said slowly.

My eyes went to his. He seemed in a daze. “Mr. Gott, I think we can talk about this rationally."

“Come,” he said and motioned with the gun to the back door.

“Why?” I asked.

“Put the fudge down. I always did like your mother’s fudge.” He motioned to the kitchen counter.

I reached over and put the bag down, trying to make my mind work.

“Now, come,” he said again and motioned toward the kitchen door.

I put one foot in front of the other and moved toward the back door. When I got to it, I stopped.

“Now, push it open and go down the steps,” he said, stepping up close behind me.

I did as I was told.

Stall.

“Mr. Gott, my parents are expecting me home in a minute. My dad made roast beef for dinner. Would you like to eat with us?”

“Roast beef. I’m sure it would be nice,” he said, “But we have business to attend to.”

“What kind of business?” I asked. It was then I saw the hole he had been digging. Seeing it closer up, I realized it was far too big for little Millie. My stomach churned.

“Important business,” he said, following close behind me. I felt the gun press into my back and I stopped breathing for a moment.

“Mr. Gott, I don’t understand. If you don’t like the Halloween season, there will be a vote at city hall soon. You can voice your opinion then,” I explained. Then it hit me. “Mr. Gott, did you kill Hazel?”

“Yes,” he said, but didn’t elaborate as we walked toward the hole.

“Why?” I asked. “I don’t think she was a fan of the Halloween season. She would have been on your side.”

“She hated the Halloween season. If she had lived, she probably would have been the person most likely to get it stopped. Sadly, she died.”

“But why?” I asked. My head swam with what was happening and I had to breathe deeply to keep from passing out.

We stopped near the edge of the hole and I turned toward him.

“She was always complaining about my grass, Millie’s barking, my flag. Everything bothered her. I didn’t mean to do it. We got into an argument about the height of my grass and I accidentally pushed her. She fell down the steps at the front of her house. Her head hit the concrete, and she didn’t move.”

“Maybe you could tell the police what happened. It was an accident and I’m sure they’ll understand,” I said helpfully.

He smiled at me, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I suppose I could have called them and told them she tripped. They would have believed me. But it seemed like such a fine idea to turn her into a scarecrow; something she detested. So I did. It would be too late to tell them it was an accident. They’d never believe me.”

I nodded. “Okay, well, what do I have to do with her? I’m not following any of this.”

“You have been asking people about her death. People have told me you have. Stella at the bakery said you accused her. You even asked me about it. I didn’t want you to find out, but you just kept asking. I also want the Halloween season stopped and there you are, trying so hard to save it. So, I figured if I did away with you, it would solve two problems at once. I’m sorry, but I have no choice.” He looked at me sadly, shaking his head.

“Someone will hear the gun shot,” I pointed out. “My parents are expecting me home.”

“That’s why I have this,” he said and produced a silencer from his pocket and attached it to the gun.

I took a deep breath and hit his hand holding the gun. It flew off to the side and bounced once on the grass.

“You!” he said and then swore under his breath. He bent and reached for the gun. I grabbed him by the shoulders and threw him into the grave he had dug for me and I ran for the house.

I wondered if he might be able to get out of the hole and grab the gun before I could get all the way through his house. It might have been ridiculous, but fear had me in a strangle hold. I sprinted for the back door and ran through the house. I wanted to scream, but I couldn’t get enough air.

I was out his front door in less than a minute and running across his front lawn, and then Hazel’s lawn. Once inside my front door, I slammed it shut and leaned against it, breathing hard. I felt like I would faint, so I crouched down in the foyer and gasped for air.

“Mia, what is it?” Mom asked, getting out of her chair.

“Dial 911. Mr. Gott tried to kill me,” I gasped.

“What?” she asked, staring at me.

I looked at her with tears in my eyes.

“Please,” I whispered.

--20--

I sat on the bottom step of our staircase with a blanket wrapped around me. The police had taken Mr. Gott away, and Millie sat at my feet, resting her head on my shoe. Mom had brought me a cup of cocoa, but I had hardly touched it. The front door was open and I could still see the red and blue lights flashing on one of the patrol cars parked at the curb.

A figure walked toward me in the dark and I braced myself. I’d had all the excitement I could stand for one day.

Ethan walked into view, his jaw set hard. He was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. “Hey, Mia,” he said gently.

I nodded at him. “Hey.”

He sat down on the step next to me. “Are you okay?”

I nodded, but didn’t look at him.

“The other officer told me what happened. I’m sorry.”

“Thanks,” I said. “I can’t believe Mr. Gott would do that. I always thought he was a nice man.”

“I’m pretty surprised, too,” he said. “I don’t think anyone suspected him in Hazel’s murder.”

“This whole thing is crazy. He murdered Hazel because she made him angry, but I still don’t get why he would dress her up as a scarecrow. He said it seemed like a fine idea. What does that mean?”

“He told the arresting officer he thought it would give the Halloween season a bad name and the mayor would stop the celebration. That almost worked.”

“It still might,” I said and took a sip of my now cold cocoa.

“Let’s hope not. He also said he was sorry he had done it and that he should have just called the police and said she fell,” he said. “That probably would have been the smarter move.”

“Is he still saying it was an accident?” I asked and reached down and scratched Millie’s ear.

“Yes, he still maintains it was an accident. It’ll be up to a judge to decide, but I think we both know it isn’t true.”

I nodded. “I guess it was convenient to use her death to try to stop the Halloween season from going on. I can’t believe someone hated it that much.”

“He said he was tired of the crowds and the traffic. He also said he was embarrassed that grown people dressed up in costumes,” Ethan said with a chuckle. “I guess the old guy had some pride in him.”

I shook my head and looked at him. “I’ve never been so scared in my life. I mean, he just went out into the back yard and dug a grave for me. He was going to shoot me like it was no big deal.” I trembled at the thought.

“I know. You never can tell what goes through a person’s mind. I’m sorry you went through that. How did you get away?”

“In my sophomore year of college, there were several assaults on female students on campus so the school offered self-defense courses. I took one, but once they caught the perpetrator, I never thought I would use those skills. Was I ever wrong. Not that it took much. I just knocked the gun out of his hand and ran.”

“It’s a good thing you took the class. It probably gave you more confidence than you would have had otherwise, and things could have turned out very differently.”

“To be honest, it wasn’t that much of a challenge. He lost his grip on the gun pretty easily.”

“I’m glad of that,” he said softly.

I shook my head. “For the first few minutes, my mind was a blank. It wasn’t until the last minute that I remembered the instructor saying don’t go anywhere with someone who had a gun. He said we'd die for sure if we did. Something inside me made me reach over and knock that gun out of his hand. I didn’t even think.”

“It’s amazing that sometimes our subconscious mind will remember things and help us out when we need it. I’m glad you’re okay,” he said again and reached out and gave my shoulder a squeeze.

“Thanks,” I said. “We’ve got Millie here if Mr. Gott’s relatives don’t claim her.”

“Will you keep her if they don’t?”

“Probably,” I said. “She’s pretty old and I’ve known her all her life. She was a puppy when Mr. Gott brought her home. Besides, she’s never tried to shoot me. I can’t hold it against her that her owner tried to.”

Ethan chuckled. “Let’s hope she stays on the right side of the law.”

I nodded. I wasn’t sure how I would get up and go to work the next day, but I knew I would. Staying home with my freshly dug grave just two houses away wasn’t an option. Besides, we had a Halloween season to save. And regardless of what anyone else thought, we were going to save it.