A Catered Halloween (10 page)

L
ibby looked at the woman standing in front of her. She was small and plain and had one of those short, mannish haircuts that women tended to get when they didn’t want to bother about their looks anymore.

“Aren’t you scared working here?” she asked Libby as Libby placed a slice of pumpkin cheesecake on a paper plate and handed it to her.

“You mean because of the murder?” Libby asked.

“After all, Mark said you saw Amethyst’s head rolling down the stairs.”

Thanks, Mark,
Libby thought. “Frankly,” she said to the woman, “I think I’m too tired to be scared.”

The woman gave her an odd look and walked away.

But it was true. Things had finally settled down some, and for that, she was eternally grateful. People were no longer standing out in the hallway, waiting to get in. But her back and her feet were killing her. So were her wrists and arms, for that matter. She couldn’t imagine how Bernie’s feet were feeling. She was wear
ing pink ballet slippers, which had no support whatsoever. She and Bernie had been making waffles and dishing out desserts since they’d opened the doors, and she was ready to take a break.

Evidently, the combination of the chance to visit a real live murder scene and go through a haunted house at the same time had proved irresistible to the population of Longley and the surrounding towns. This was better than reality TV. When Libby thought about it, she realized this could be reality TV.

They’d sold way more Belgian and chocolate brownie waffles than she or her sister had anticipated. Hopefully, they’d have enough to squeak by until the end of the night, which was another couple of hours away. All she could say was thank heavens she’d prepared extra.

The real winner of the day, though, was the apple compote. People couldn’t stop talking about it. Libby had to admit it was pretty darn good. The lemon peel, the touch of rum, and the small amount of apricot jam in it made all the difference.

They were doing very well. The bad part was that they had to go home and get ready for tomorrow. Hopefully, Amber and Googie had done everything they were supposed to do. Otherwise, Libby and Bernie would be up till three in the morning, doing prep work. Sometimes Libby thought of the public as an insatiable mouth that she and Bernie labored to feed. She shook her head to clear that thought from her mind and got back to the business at hand.

“How are we doing with the pumpkin bars?” she asked Bernie.

“We’ve got two trays, but the apple and the pumpkin pies are gone. We should bake a few more of those for tomorrow. Did you get a look at the fat woman in the
latex suit? That was certainly a mistake. Fetish dressing is definitely for thin people. Don’t look at me like that. Half the fun of Halloween is commenting on the costumes people wear.”

“See. This is why I’m not getting into a costume.”

Bernie looked hurt. “I wouldn’t let you make a mistake like that.”

Libby knew Bernie wouldn’t, but she still didn’t want to wear a costume. She just felt silly. She just didn’t know how to explain that to someone who was dressed as Little Bo Peep (“to balance the energy,” Bernie had explained). But at least that was better than the witch and the vampire, Libby thought. Bernie wasn’t wearing fake nails today. They had driven Libby crazy. She had been eyeing them the past two nights, waiting for one to fall into the waffle batter.

“How about we just do make-up?” Bernie said.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Come on,” Bernie cajoled.

Libby threw up her hands. She was too tired to argue. “Fine,” she said. “I give up.”

Bernie grinned. “You won’t regret it.”

Libby thought she probably would, but at least she’d have a short interval of peace and quiet. She shook her head to clear it and continued to take stock of what they needed.

“We need more cider,” she said. “Would you mind going out to the van and getting the rest of it?”

“Why is it still in the van?”

“Because I was too tired to bring it all in.”

“Makes sense,” Bernie said. “I’ll do it now.”

Bernie was back two minutes later with a jug in each hand. Libby noticed her sister was frowning.

“Libby,” Bernie said, “didn’t Dad and Marvin leave for home?”

Libby kept stocking the square rattan box she used for the napkins. “Yes. At least I thought they did.”

“Well, I spotted Marvin’s car on the far side of the parking lot. I’m going to call and see what they’re up to.”

Bernie was reaching for her phone when it rang. She picked it up and checked her caller ID. It was her dad. She listened to him for a moment and hung up.

“They’re at the Foundation,” she said to Libby.

“The Foundation? What are they doing there?”

“Snooping.”

“Snooping?”

“That’s what I said,” Bernie replied. Sometimes she thought her sister had a hearing problem.

“What are they looking for?”

“They wanted to find out who the Foundation backers are,” replied Bernie.

“But why?”

Bernie shook her head. “You got me. But they’re going back to Ed Banks’s house to talk to him. He’s one of the big backers. And guess what?”

“What?” Libby said as she ladled pumpkin batter into one of the waffle machines and closed the top.

“So was Amethyst.”

Libby’s eyes remained focused on the machine. “She had that kind of money?”

“Evidently, she did.”

“Interesting,” Libby said as she opened the machine up. “Very interesting indeed.”

She was about to say something else when Mark appeared by their side. He’d been so quiet, Libby hadn’t heard him approach. She wondered if he’d been standing there long.

“You gals holding up under the onslaught?” he asked.

“Oh yes,” Bernie said, even though she detested being called a gal.

“Is your dad around?” asked Mark.

Bernie shook her head. “Not that I know of.”

Mark wrinkled his forehead. “That’s odd, because I thought I saw the car he came in off to the side of the parking lot.”

“Must have been a different car,” Libby lied.

“Marvin and dad went home a while ago,” said Bernie, backing her up.

“Absolutely,” Libby agreed.

“Well, someone is over there,” Mark said. “I think I’ll take a walk around and see what’s what. Can’t have any more bad things happening here, can we? And, by the way, Bernie, I like your costume.” He grinned. “I’d be one of your sheep anytime of the week.”

“My pleasure,” Bernie said.

As soon as Mark turned and started walking away, Bernie grabbed her cell phone and called her dad to tell him what was happening.

“Poor Marvin,” she said to Libby when she was done. “He’s probably having a heart attack.”

Libby grimaced. “I was thinking the same thing myself.”

“What’s going on?” Marvin asked Sean as Sean clicked off his cell phone.

“I guess you were right,” Sean said.

“Right about what?”

“I guess we should have left a little earlier.”

“What do you mean?” Marvin asked.

Sean noticed that Marvin’s voice was rising in a spiral of panic. “Bernie just told me that Mark is on his way over.”

“Oh my God,” Marvin said.

“Relax,” Sean said. “It’ll be fine.”

“That’s what you said when we walked in here.”

“And I meant it.”

“But we have to get out of here.”

“It’s too late.”

“What are we going to do?” Marvin wailed.

“Learn from the master,” Sean told him. “Now grab my coat, and let’s go.”

He watched Marvin hurry away. A moment later he was back with Sean’s coat. Sean struggled into it; then he and Marvin walked to the door. Sean would have liked to have gone faster, but he couldn’t walk at a decent pace anymore. These days he was lucky he could walk at all. He really should have had Marvin bring the wheelchair along. It would have made things so much simpler. They had just gotten to the door and Marvin had reached out to open it when the door swung open and Mark was standing there.

“Hello,” Sean said. “What a pleasant surprise.”

Mark started to stammer.

“You’re probably wondering what we’re doing here,” Sean said.

“Well—,” Mark began, but Sean had already cut him off.

“Trying to find the old plans for the house.” Sean smiled.

“But I told you I’d show them to you,” Mark protested.

“I know you did, and I’m sorry, but I just couldn’t wait. You know how old men get. Impatient. Like in the
song lyrics, ‘oh the days dwindle down to a precious few.’”

Mark scowled at him.

“What? You’ve never heard ‘September Song’?” Sean asked. “It’s Frank Sinatra. At least I think it’s Frank Sinatra. I thought the plans would be in the archives….”

“We don’t have archives,” Mark said.

“I finally remembered you’d told me that after I went looking for them,” said Sean as he rubbed his hands together. “I’m telling you, getting old is a bitch.” He smiled at Mark. “Well, as long as you’re here, maybe you can get them for us now?”

“No,” Mark replied. Sean could tell he was very annoyed and anxious to get away from this garrulous old man in front of him. Which was the whole idea. “I have to go down to the basement to get them. It could take quite some time.”

“I’ll be back tomorrow afternoon then,” Sean told him and started to walk off.

“Wait,” Mark said.

Sean stopped and turned.

“How did you get in here?” asked Mark.

“I used my superpowers. No, really. Some people were going out….”

“What people?” A sharp thinker, Mark.

“A woman and a man,” said Sean.

“Describe them,” Mark ordered.

Sean shrugged and tried to keep from jingling the keys in his pocket that Konrad and Curtis had given him. “I don’t know. Ordinary people. I have trouble identifying people now.” Sean tried to look contrite. “I’m sorry if I caused a problem,” he said.

“You didn’t.” Mark ran his hand through his hair.

It looked so perfect, Sean wondered if he dyed it. Or went to some fancy spa.

“I just don’t want anything to happen to you,” Mark added.

“That’s so nice. Nothing will,” Sean said firmly.

Mark waved his hands in the air. “I’d feel better if you weren’t in this place by yourself.”

“I’m not here by myself. I have Marvin,” replied Sean.

Mark’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You know what I mean.”

“I do indeed,” said Sean. “Tell me, does your insurance kick in if someone gets killed or injured by a ghost, or does that come under the ‘act of God’ clause?”

Mark smiled. “You’re a funny man,” he said.

“I like to think so,” said Sean.

“Now I know where Bernie gets it from. I’ll have to ask my insurance agent,” replied Mark.

“Do you have a good one?” asked Sean.

Mark reached into his pocket, took out a piece of gum, unwrapped it, and popped it in his mouth. “The company we hired to mount the Haunted House show carries lots of liability, but it doesn’t cover homicide.”

“Tomorrow then?” Sean asked.

“Absolutely,” Mark said, with what Sean decided was a tad too much enthusiasm.

“You see,” Sean explained to Marvin as they walked to Marvin’s car. “You should never explain. You should never run. If you’re caught in a situation like this, you walk toward the person and spin them a plausible story.”

“I don’t think Mark believed you,” Marvin said as he opened the door of his car.

“That’s the point,” Sean said once he was comfortably settled in his seat. “He didn’t believe me, but because of the way I was acting, he couldn’t call me a liar. Now let’s get back to Lexus Gardens.”

“But it’s late,” Marvin protested.

“Precisely. That way there’s a better chance that Banks might be in.”

“S
low down,” Sean yelled at Marvin as they took one of the turns on the road up to Lexus Gardens. “It’s too damn dark to be going this fast.”

“I’m going twenty miles an hour,” Marvin told him.

“Then go fifteen.”

It was pitch black out, and even with Marvin using his brights, the turns just leaped out. At night the evergreens on either side of the road reminded Sean of huge saws. Or maybe Halloween was getting to him. In any case, Sean hoped there weren’t any deer up this way. There didn’t used to be, but these days they were everywhere, eating everything. Clyde called them rodents with long legs.

“I wish I could drive,” Sean complained as he scrunched up his eyes so he could see better in the dark.

“I wish you could, too,” Marvin said.

“Was that a note of bitterness I detected?” Sean asked.

“No,” Marvin stammered. “It’s just that—”

“I criticize you?”

“It’s more like I never seem to do anything right.”

Sean’s hand tightened around the door handle as Marvin took a particularly sharp curve.

“Of course, you do,” Sean told him. “If you didn’t, I wouldn’t even bother with you.”

“Really?” Marvin said.

Sean could hear Marvin’s voice brightening. “Yes, really,” Sean replied.

There was a short pause. Then Marvin said, “My father says I can’t do anything right.”

“Well, he’s wrong,” Sean said. “Dead wrong. And speaking of dead, don’t take your eyes off the road. Aside from the turns, there could be deer wandering about.”

Marvin didn’t say anything. Sean turned to look at him. He was smiling in a way Sean had never seen him smile before. The two men sat silently for a moment before Marvin spoke.

“What are you going to ask Banks?” Marvin said.

“What the Foundation is about, what Amethyst wanted from him, stuff like that.”

“And if he won’t answer? It’s not as if he has to.”

“Oh, he’ll answer,” Sean said, with assurance. “I’ll make him want to.”

“How will you make him do that?”

“By letting him know his life will be a lot easier if he talks to me.”

“I see,” Marvin said. “But what if he doesn’t want to? What if you can’t convince him?”

“Then we’ll find another approach.”

Over the years, Sean had found that there was always a way to get the information he needed. It was just a matter of figuring it out. He sat back and watched the road stitch itself up the hill.

“We’re almost there,” Marvin said.

“I know,” Sean replied.

A moment later, the gate appeared before them. It seemed to spring up out of nowhere. The gate was illuminated by two halogen spotlights that bore down on it from above. For a moment, Sean had the ridiculous feeling that any second now border guards would step out from behind the gate and demand to see his passport.
I’m watching too many old movies
, he said to himself.

As they got closer, they could see Banks’s house. It was lit up; someone was home, unless the house was on a timer.

“Press the intercom button,” Sean instructed Marvin as they stopped in front of the gate.

Marvin got the same results as before.

“Try again,” Sean instructed.

As Marvin did, Sean scanned the wall. Now that he was looking more closely, he could see two cameras mounted on either side of the gate. He didn’t know whom he was more annoyed with: himself for not seeing the cameras sooner or Banks for not answering.

“Do you want to go?” Marvin asked when no one answered.

“Not yet,” Sean replied.

If Banks had answered him, he’d have let the matter go, but ignoring him was something else entirely. Maybe he wasn’t the chief of police anymore, but that didn’t mean he had to tolerate this type of rudeness. He never had, and he wasn’t about to start now.

He looked at the house again. He thought he saw a flicker of movement in the right window. And then he realized he was seeing something else as well. The gate was slightly ajar. Very slightly. Was it like that before? Sean closed his eyes and tried to remember. He couldn’t.

“Are you okay,” Marvin asked.

“I’m fine. Do me a favor and get out and see if you can push the gate open.”

“But…,” Marvin objected.

“Just do it,” Sean snapped. This was what he hated. In the old days, pre-illness, he wouldn’t have had to ask. He’d have just gotten out and done it.

He watched Marvin get out of the car. Could he move any slower, Sean wondered.

“Don’t slam your door,” Sean warned just as Marvin did.

Great,
Sean thought.
Now we’ll get to see if someone comes out.
But no one did. Maybe they hadn’t heard. Maybe no one was at the control panel. Maybe the cameras were just for show. No way to know unless he saw the control room. He turned his attention back to Marvin. Marvin was at the gate now.

“Open it all the way,” Sean instructed, after rolling his window down. “We want to drive in.” Sean paused. “And, yes, I’m sure,” he told Marvin even though Marvin hadn’t said anything.

Finally, Marvin began to push. The gate slowly opened. When it was open all the way, he got back in the car. “I expected it to squeak,” he said.

Sean just sighed. “Drive in,” he said.

“Where?”

“Up to the front of the house.”

“I still don’t think this is a good idea,” Marvin said as he put the car in gear. “In fact, I think it’s a terrible idea.”

“Everything will be fine,” Sean said automatically.

“That’s what you said about the Foundation,” Marvin protested.

“And it was, wasn’t it?”

Sean guessed Marvin couldn’t think of a comeback,
because he didn’t say anything. As they drove in, Sean kept looking around, expecting to see someone, but there was no sign of movement. Most of the windows in the house were lit up, but Sean didn’t see any people. He must have imagined he saw someone before.

The lawn seemed like a vast expanse of dark sea. Over to the left, he spotted a garage. He could make out what looked like a Jeep parked in front of it, which really didn’t mean a whole lot vis-a-vis whether or not someone was home. People that lived in houses like this one usually had multiple cars.

“Where do you want me to stop?” Marvin asked.

“In front of the house,” Sean told him as he reached in his jacket pocket and got out his cigarettes.

“Since when did you start smoking?” Marvin cried.

“I didn’t start smoking. I restarted smoking.”

“Libby must be really pissed.”

“Libby doesn’t know, and you’re not going to tell her.”

“I don’t think I can do that.”

“Of course, you can. I’m not going to stop, so why upset her?”

Marvin digested this piece of information for a moment and then said, “It’s so bad for you.”

“Yes, it is, but look at what I have. What difference does it make? Besides, I read recently that smoking may put what I have in remission.”

“Really?” Marvin said.

“Yes, really,” Sean replied. “Now park in front of the house, and help me out of the car.”

Marvin did as he was told. “It’s a big house,” Marvin said.

Sean took another couple of puffs of his cigarette and threw it down on the grass. “It’s enormous.”

He stood there for a moment, taking it in. The build
ing was a two-story Greek Revival affair. Because the drapes weren’t closed, Sean had the feeling he was looking at a stage set. The furnishings in the rooms gave him the same feeling. Everything was for show.
Banks must live in the other part of the house
, Sean decided. No one’s dwelling could be that perfect.

He lifted his hand and rang the bell. He could hear the chime echoing within the house. No one came. He tried again, only this time he left his hand on the buzzer a bit longer. By the third time, his finger was on the buzzer for a full minute. Sean tried the door next. It was locked.

“He’s not here. Let’s go,” Marvin said eagerly.

Obviously, Sean thought, the kid could hardly wait to get out of there. But that wasn’t going to happen yet.

“First, let’s go around to the side,” Sean said as they got back in Marvin’s car.

“But why?” Marvin wailed.

“To see if the side door is open. Something’s wrong here, and I want to check it out.”

Marvin began tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. “Then let’s call the police.”

“A valid suggestion,” Sean told him, “but the moment the police arrive, I’m going to be shut out, and I want to see what I can find out before that happens. We’ll call them when I’m done.”

“Great,” Marvin muttered, putting his car in gear.

Sean pretended he hadn’t heard Marvin’s last comment as they drove around to the side. After all, the kid was going along with Sean, and that was all that mattered. Marvin parked, and they both got out. He offered Sean his arm in support, but Sean waved him away. Damned if he wasn’t going to do this by himself.

The trick was to take slow, careful steps. The dark made seeing the path clearly harder, and he didn’t want
to stumble and fall. Then Marvin would tell Libby, and she wouldn’t let him out of the house at all. Of course, she wouldn’t be too happy when she heard about this, anyway. Oh well. There wasn’t much he could do about that.

As he walked, he debated about what course of action he was going to take if the side door was locked. After all, there was no reason to think that it wouldn’t be. But it wasn’t. Sean could see the light spilling out from the space between the door and its frame.

“We should call the police,” Marvin repeated.

Sean nodded absentmindedly as he pulled his jacket sleeve over his hand and pushed the door open.

“Why are you doing that?” Marvin asked.

“So I don’t contaminate the crime scene.”

“But you don’t know it’s a crime scene,” Marvin pointed out.

“Always assume the worst,” Sean told him. “And don’t touch anything,” he warned.

“I don’t think I want to go in,” Marvin said.

“Then stay outside,” Sean snapped as he took a step inside. God, what a pain in the ass that kid was sometimes.

“I can’t. Libby would kill me if anything happened to you.”

“And I’m going to kill you if you don’t stop talking. I can’t concentrate with you chattering away.”

“Okay.”

Sean watched Marvin get that hangdog look. He felt a small stab of guilt but managed to stifle it.

“I guess no one’s here,” Marvin said. Then he realized what he’d done and put his hand to his mouth. “Sorry.”

“I think that’s a fair assumption to make,” Sean said. “Given the amount of talking we’ve been doing, if any
one was here, they’d be pointing their rifles at us by now.”

Sean looked around. He was in the mudroom. There were four jackets hanging on the wooden pegs and three pairs of boots sitting on bootjacks. A wicker basket full of hats, scarves, and gloves sat on a bench. He took another step and found himself in the kitchen. Marvin was right behind him.

The kitchen was huge. The cooking appliances were at one end, and the family room, complete with a flat-screen TV large enough to cover the entire wall, was at the other end. CNN news was on, but there was no sound. Judging from the size of the stove and the fridge, you could feed a platoon in here and still have room for another couple of dozen people.

The kitchen table had been set for coffee. There was a French press, plates, mugs, and sugar and cream on the table. A platter of pumpkin bars sat in the center. Sean walked over and took a look at the cookies. They looked like A Touch of Heaven’s ginger pumpkin bars with ginger icing. Exactly like them. But just to make sure, he picked one up and took a bite.

“What are you doing?” Marvin cried.

“Eating,” Sean said. Yup. They were Libby’s. No one made them like she did. It was the Jamaican ginger that did it. “You want one?” he asked Marvin. “They’re Libby’s.”

Marvin shook his head. “If you don’t mind, I’ll pass.”

“No appetite?” Sean asked as he ate another one.

“What happened to contaminating the crime scene?”

“I don’t think two cookies will make that big a difference in the scheme of things,” Sean said, wishing he had some milk to wash them down. There was proba
bly milk in the fridge, but that would be going a little too far.

He wondered who had brought the cookies here. Maybe Amber or Googie would remember, but Sean doubted it. As he dusted the crumbs off his hands, he noticed that the floor by the sink was wet. He walked over. Three or four apples were bobbing in the basin. Very odd. Then he noticed a few brown-red spots on the lip of the basin. Dirt? He looked closer. No. He got that old familiar feeling. He beckoned Marvin over and pointed.

“What do you think?” he asked.

Marvin leaned over and studied the spots. He sucked in his cheeks as he concentrated. Finally, he said, “I think it’s blood.”

“Me too,” Sean agreed.

Marvin straightened up. “Someone could have cut themselves with a knife.”

“Yes. They could have.”

“But you don’t think so.”

“No. Do you?”

“No.” Marvin pointed to the apples. “What about those?”

“You got me. I’m going to have to think on that for a bit.” He motioned for Marvin to follow him. “Come on. Let’s see what else we’re going to find.”

“I think we might be finding Mr. Banks,” Marvin said.

“I think you may be right,” Sean agreed.

“Which is why we should call the cops.”

“Soon,” Sean said.

“You’re just placating me,” Marvin complained.

“Yup,” Sean said. “You got me. That’s exactly what I’m doing.”

Sean looked around once more just to make sure he hadn’t missed anything. Then he walked straight ahead, with Marvin on his heels. When he got to the corner, he turned down a hallway.

There were watermarks on the wallpaper every couple of feet or so, as if someone had bumped into it with his shoulder. He kept walking. About two feet farther, he came to a room. From outside the room, he could hear a fan running. The smell told him what he was going to find.

“When you’re right, you’re right,” Sean said.

He and Marvin stepped inside. A man was slumped over the toilet. His hands were tied behind him.