The Halloween Pumpkin Spell, page 5
“Is it a murder this time?” Dawson asked Chris.
“Given this town, it’s likely,” Chris said. He inspected the body. “If it was another town, I’d guess it was a heart attack, but given the abundance of murders in this town, I think we had better call in the forensics team.”
“And your partner,” Dawson said dryly.
Chris’s partner, Detective Sam Barrett, was a most unpleasant man possessed of a bad attitude. After Chris told us once more to step back, he called him.
“I have a bad feeling about this,” Ruprecht whispered to us.
“You think he was murdered?” I asked him.
Ruprecht nodded. “Granted, there wasn’t a rake sticking out of him or a pitchfork, and those implements are quite close to the body,” he said, indicating the rakes, pitchforks, and shovels in the display. “If someone did murder him, it must’ve been with poison.”
“No,” I squealed. “I saw an old episode of Midsomer Murders last month where someone released snakes to kill the victim. That would be much easier in Australia because our snakes are far more deadly.”
Marina clutched my arm, but Ruprecht held up both hands. “Snakes just don’t bite people for no reason. I’m sure Farmer Bob had enough experience with snakes to know to avoid one. Besides, it’s an open space here. It would be a different matter if he was locked in the room with a snake that somehow felt threatened by him. No, I suggest he was poisoned. Haven’t you noticed the cup and plate next to the body?”
I did a double take. I had not, in fact, noticed them. My observation skills were sadly lacking. Chris Bowes had noticed the polystyrene cup and plastic plate as he was pointing them out to Dawson.
“If someone gave him a poisonous drink or a poisoned sandwich or something, why would they leave the cup and the plate behind?” I asked Ruprecht.
He shrugged. “Who would know the mind of a criminal? Perhaps the criminal left the food with Farmer Bob and left.”
That certainly made sense, and I said so. “He would’ve arrived at the show this morning. What poison could kill someone that quickly?”
“Strychnine of course,” Ruprecht said, “but as someone was killed by strychnine last Halloween, it seems a strange coincidence it would happen again this Halloween.”
“Unless it’s a copycat killer,” Marina said.
“A copycat killer who waits a year?” both Ruprecht and Alder said.
Marina pulled a face. “Stranger things have happened, but shouldn’t he be foaming at the mouth if it was strychnine? Maybe it was cyanide. That kills quickly, doesn’t it? Maybe we should have tried to see if we could smell almonds on his breath.”
I shook my head. “That is something I do know about. Despite what you see on TV, only a small percentage of people can smell cyanide. Most of the population wouldn’t be able to detect the scent at all. It’s a genetic ability.”
Marina looked surprised. “I didn’t know that. Ruprecht, Alder, are there other poisons that can kill someone quickly?”
“We don’t know when he actually ingested the poison,” Alder said, “but he couldn’t have been here too long. It’s still early morning and he had his pumpkin with him, so we know that he would have arrived early this morning. As for poisons that kill quickly, no, not many, but it depends on the dose. I’m sure the police will take samples and send them to toxicology. We’ll know soon enough.”
“We won’t know too soon,” Ruprecht corrected him. “Toxicology can take weeks, unlike what you see on TV.”
“We still don’t know if he was murdered,” I pointed out. “Maybe he ate a large burger with his coffee and all that fat gave him a heart attack. Maybe he had a heart condition.”
We hadn’t finished speculating when Detective Barrett arrived. He rolled his eyes when he saw us. “Not you lot again. Why do you always seem to be involved in every murder in this town?” He scowled at us, and then hurried over to Chris and Dawson.
“Should we report Camino as missing?” I asked Ruprecht.
He wiped his brow with one hand. “I was up all night wondering about that. If she’s the pumpkin, then there would be no point. If she isn’t the pumpkin, then where would the police look for her? I don’t think any useful purpose would be served informing the police about Camino’s disappearance at this time. At any rate, I fear she is the pumpkin, Amelia.”
“We’ll have to take her straight back home after the judging,” I said, looking at Marina.
“Of course you can,” she said. “I’m sure I’ll win now anyway, what with Farmer Bob dead.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “I wouldn’t say that too loudly, or the police will think you murdered him so you could win.”
I hadn’t seen Detective Barrett coming up behind me. “What was that, Miss Spelled? You said your friend murdered him so she could win a pumpkin competition?”
“It was a joke of course,” I said.
“So you think the subject of murder is funny?” His eyes narrowed. He looked like a brown snake about to strike.
“Of course not,” I snapped.
“So tell me more about this pumpkin competition,” he said.
“It’s nothing,” I began, but he interrupted me. “I was speaking to this woman. What’s your name?”
“Marina Mercer,” she said.
“You’re not local, are you?” he barked, as if it was an accusation.
She shook her head. “I’m from Melbourne.”
“And why are you in town?”
“I come to Bayberry Creek every year. My grandmother lived here all her life, and so did her parents.”
Barrett appeared to be digesting that, and then said, “And what’s this about a pumpkin? Was that a joke too?”
“I’ve entered a pumpkin in a competition today,” Marina said. “I entered it in the biggest pumpkin section and the best looking pumpkin section. Farmer Bob Willis usually wins both those sections.”
“So you know him, do you?”
A flicker of fear passed across Marina’s face. “Only by sight. We’ve never really spoken much, only to say hello.”
Alder spoke up. “Detective Barrett, do you think the man was murdered?”
For once, Barrett seemed at a loss. “We certainly can’t rule it out at this stage. We’ll know if it was natural causes after the autopsy and if not, we’ll have to involve toxicology. There are no visible wounds, but the autopsy will reveal any spider or snake puncture marks.”
“Snake!” I said without thinking. “I thought it was a snake.”
Barrett turned his attention to me. “And why do you say that, Miss Spelled?”
“Well, he’s a farmer, I suppose,” I said, ‘and he’s dead. Dead farmers usually mean snakes.”
Barrett actually rolled his eyes and went back to the body.
Dawson walked over to us. “Detective Barrett wants you all to go outside so he can take your statements one by one.”
“Statements!” I exclaimed. “That means he thinks it is a murder.”
“He’s just being on the safe side,” Dawson said. He sneezed violently. “Hay fever,” he said. “All these hay bales.”
We all traipsed outside. Maybe I should have stayed at Hamilton Island. Things had gone rapidly downhill since I returned to Bayberry Creek.
Chapter 9
Detective Barrett wasted no time setting up yellow police tape around the whole building. He took us outside one by one to take a witness statement, which I figured was the euphemistic term for interrogation.
It was my turn now. I was sitting next to Barrett on a cold and wet park bench. The fact it was raining seemed to have escaped his notice. The pine tree afforded scant shelter.
From the corner of my eye I could see curious onlookers getting as close as they could to the police tape. I hoped the judging was still going on, so no one would be allowed in the tent where Camino was. I didn’t want her in any danger. I looked over my shoulder and it seemed that the rest of the fair was going on as usual. I allowed myself a small sigh of relief.
“Miss Spelled, you seem somewhat distracted.” His tone was accusatory.
I turned back and simply looked at him.
His pen hovered over his notepad. “Please go over the morning’s events, in your own words.”
I told him everything that had happened, leaving out the part about Camino being a giant pumpkin of course.
“And how did you discover the body?”
I shook my head. “I didn’t discover the body. Marina did.”
“How did you know she discovered the body?”
“We heard her screaming.”
“Please tell me who ‘we’ is.”
I told him, and continued, “We were looking at the royal display and Marina had gone on ahead. We heard her scream, so we all ran over. At first I couldn’t see what the problem was because I thought he was just a lifelike scarecrow, but then we realised he was dead.”
Detective Barrett scribbled away furiously. “And what happened then?”
“Ruprecht took the victim’s pulse and then I called Thyme. I had seen Dawson and Detective Bowes near my cake stall, so I asked her to fetch them.”
Detective Barrett lowered his notepad and fixed me with a hard look. “Why did you use the word ‘victim’?”
“I don’t understand? He’s dead, isn’t he?”
“Victim implies murder.”
“You wouldn’t be questioning me if you didn’t think he’d been murdered.” I afforded him my best glare.
Barrett made more notes and underlined something several times, a fact that made me quite nervous.
“All right, Miss Spelled, that will be all for now. Please make yourself available for questioning at a later time.”
I stood up. “Sure, sure.” A giant raindrop fell in my eye and I wiped it away.
Barrett shooed me ahead of him back into the tent and then announced in a loud voice that we were all to leave.
As soon as we were out of earshot, Marina said, “He thinks I did it.”
“Surely not,” Alder said. “Police don’t suspect everyone who discovers a body.”
“Only if they’re standing over the body holding a gun or a knife like you see on TV,” I added.
My words did not appear to placate Marina. “You think so? I don’t know. That detective asked me how well I knew Farmer Bob, how much I wanted to win the pumpkin competition, and if I had a criminal record.”
“You’re kidding!” I said. “Maybe they’re routine questions.” The look on Alder’s face indicated otherwise. “But surely he can’t suspect you just because you found the body?” I added. “If you’d stayed with us, then we would have found the body as a group. If you really were the murderer, that would have been the smart thing to do. And surely Detective Barrett wouldn’t think you murdered someone over a pumpkin competition?”
We had reached the pumpkin tent, and saw the judges had finished their work, given that people were milling about. Marina pushed ahead of us. We had to navigate a crowd of people to get to Camino.
Marina was patting the pumpkin. “Well done, Camino,” she said. “I knew you could win it for me. You’re by far the biggest and most attractive pumpkin here. Well done!”
I hurried over to her. “Shush. People can hear you.”
Marina did not appear to care. “Camino won! Look at my beautiful ribbons. They’re both for first place. Good job, Camino.” She patted her.
I did not think it the time and place to point out to her that she had cheated, and what’s more, had she forgotten a man had died? His pumpkin had looked just as big as Camino, maybe even bigger.
“Congratulations,” a woman said. She appeared anxious, and wrung her hands in a worried fashion. “I thought Farmer Bob Willis would win again. He didn’t even show up for the first time in years.”
Marina opened her mouth, I presume to tell the woman the unfortunate news, but Alder shook his head.
“That doesn’t matter, because my pumpkin would have won anyway,” Marina said. She patted the top of the pumpkin again. “Well done, Camino.”
The man behind me said to his companion, “She’s talking to the pumpkin. You know, that was a trend years ago. People spoke to their plants and their plants grew bigger and better.”
Within minutes, the other contestants were speaking to their pumpkins.
The thin woman closest to us was speaking to her pumpkin, a large Queensland Blue. “You can do it! Grow bigger. Oh, I suppose it’s too late for you, but I’m going to speak to all your friends back home. I’ll take you home and put you next to them so you can give them words of encouragement. They need to grow much bigger than you. See, they need to grow as big as that lady’s pumpkin there.” She lowered her voice. “Maybe even bigger.”
Detective Barrett appeared at my side, looming like some hideous spectre from one of the more arcane Grimms’ fairy tales. “I see you won the biggest pumpkin competition.” He pointed to the card.
Marina thrust her other card into his hands. “And the best looking pumpkin.”
The thin woman hurried over. “My pumpkin got second in both sections. You know Farmer Bob always wins. This is the first year he didn’t put in an entry.”
“And you are?” Detective Barrett said.
“Doris Mayhew.”
“And how well did you know Bob Willis?”
“Everyone knows him well,” she said. “It’s awfully strange he didn’t turn up this year because he’s won year after year. No one else can beat him. This year he was entering the pumpkin pie contest as well.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “He cheats, you know. Gives his pumpkin hormones.”
“Hormones?” Barrett said in an incredulous tone. “What, like steroids?”
The woman nodded slowly. “Farmer Bob will do anything to win. Anything, you mark my words.”
I looked around at all the other contestants. They were all speaking to their pumpkins in encouraging tones.
I shook my head. “Marina, we have to get Camino home now.”
The thin woman overheard me. “She’s given that pumpkin a name,” she called to the other growers.
Fortunately Detective Barrett did not speak to us, but walked over to speak to the other contestants. “Let’s get Camino home,” I said again to Marina.
She shook her head. “We’re not allowed to. The exhibits have to stay here so the people can see them.”
“What if someone accidentally hurts her?” I said.
“I’ll stand here and guard Camino,” Ruprecht said. “Marina, how long before we can remove her?”
She looked around the room. “I’ll ask an official.”
“I’d better go and tell Thyme and Mint what’s happened,” I said.
Alder nodded. “Good idea. I’ll stay here with Ruprecht.”
Something occurred to me. “You know, with all the fuss of finding the dead body, I didn’t think—we thought there was a chance Camino would turn back to herself at the end of the competition.”
Ruprecht’s face fell. “Alas, that hasn’t happened.”
“It could at any minute,” Alder said, “and if Camino turns back to herself in front of everyone, it’s going to cause quite a commotion.”
“Just pretend you’re a magician, you know, like Jonathan Creek,” I told him. “She’ll be wearing her pumpkin onesie, after all.”
At least, I hoped that was the case. A big pumpkin turning into a naked Camino would certainly frighten a lot of people.
Chapter 10
I parked outside Ruprecht’s shop. Thyme and I had shut the stall early, and had taken the cupcakes we hadn’t sold back to my shop and unloaded them. We figured no one would mind, as news was all over the grounds and all over town for that matter that a body had been found at the Halloween fair.
Ruprecht said he would take Camino to his house and we were all to come over as soon as we could to discuss what to do.
As I opened my door, a loud clap of thunder startled me. I slammed my door shut. “Do you think it’s safe to park my car on your street?” I asked Thyme.
She looked surprised. “Why wouldn’t it be? There are no car thieves in Bayberry Creek.”
I sighed and shook my head. “No, silly. I mean the hail.”
“Has it been forecast?”
I looked out the window again and then checked my phone. “No, my phone says there is zero chance of rain.”
“What was that?” Thyme yelled. The rain was so heavy that it was hard to hear.
I showed her my phone and jabbed my finger on it.
She laughed. “We don’t get much hail in Bayberry Creek,” she yelled. “I think you’ll be safe.”
We sprinted towards the front door of Ruprecht’s combination bookstore and antique store, Glinda’s, behind which was his apartment.
The door swung open before we got there and we both barrelled through. I always wondered how Ruprecht knew we were coming. He shut the door. “You’re both wet,” he said in what was something of an understatement.
I nodded. “Yes.” We were dripping water all over his floor.
“Come and get warm,” he said. “The fire’s on.” While most parts of Australia didn’t need to light a fire in October, it was not at all unusual in mountain towns like Bayberry Creek.
Ruprecht produced two towels, and I dried my hair furiously. Alder materialised and threw his coat around my shoulders. He pulled me into him and rubbed my arms. I snuggled into his warmth.
“You know, normally at this time Camino would produce a terrible onesie and insist we change into dry clothes,” I said sadly.
Alder rubbed my back. “It’s not as if she’s dead.”
I nodded slowly. “Where is she?”
“She’s in the other room,” Ruprecht said. “I didn’t want to have her in the room with the fire because pumpkins need to be kept in a cold, dark place.”
I put my hands over my eyes. I did not know how to respond to that. “Well, what are we going to do?” I asked him.
“We’re going to have a nice cup of tea and then we’ll think on it.”
Soon we were sitting around the big table sipping tea and eating the Halloween cupcakes I had brought. When Thyme lifted the lid from the cupcake box, she let out a sigh. “Maybe this wasn’t such a good choice of ours, Amelia.”
