A Catered Halloween (24 page)

Bernie didn’t waste time replying.

“Kane,” she called.

There was no reply, but she heard footsteps to the left of her. She took off after them. She was running down a long, dark hallway. The footsteps were fainter now.

“Kane, stop,” she yelled. “We need to talk.”

Now she heard nothing. She came to a standstill. She was sweating now.
Damn the twins
, she thought as she caught her breath. Then she heard a key in a lock.

“We’re coming to get you, Kane,” Curtis called.

“Great,” Bernie muttered to herself.

She’d forgotten they had keys to this place.
Lovely
. The way things were going they’d probably shoot her by accident.
Friggin’ morons
. Then she heard something ahead of her again. She strained to listen. Footsteps. Kane’s. They were coming from up ahead and over to the right. Bernie followed the sound. She could hear the twins behind her. She ran faster. Now she was
in the front hallway. She looked up. Kane was running up the stairs.

“Wait,” she cried.

But Kane just ran faster. She took the steps two at a time. They were now on the second floor, on the side where the French doors were. Kane kept on running. Suddenly, Bernie thought she saw something rectangular—a book maybe?—moving across the floor. She knew Kane wouldn’t see it, and he didn’t. He tripped. She watched him try and retain his balance. He teetered, swaying back and forth, frantically trying to regain his balance, and then he crashed through the glass and fell to the ground below.

“Now we’re even-steven,” Bernie could have sworn she heard a voice say. Then she saw Bessie smiling at her. “See you later, alligator,” Bessie said. And she was gone.

Bernie was still staring at where Bessie had been when Konrad and Curtis reached her.

B
ernie looked at the clock on the kitchen wall. It was a little after one in the morning. Halloween was over for another year. Thank goodness. This one had been a little too intense to suit her. Costumes were one thing, but real live ghosts were another. She thought she knew how Libby felt when she had those dreams. They didn’t leave you with a pleasant experience, that was for sure.

She sighed and poured some milk into a copper pan and put it on the stove to warm up. She was thinking that the kitchen always calmed her down when she heard Libby coming down the stairs.

Libby tapped her on the shoulder. “How’s the hot chocolate coming?” she asked.

Bernie got out six mugs and proceeded to spoon one tablespoon of cocoa powder and two tablespoons of sugar into each of them. “It’s coming.”

“Marvin and Clyde want marshmallows in theirs. Brandon and Dad want whipped cream and cinnamon instead, and so do I.”

“Is that why you came down?” asked Bernie.

“No. I was just wondering if you wanted to tell me what really happened,” said Libby.

“I just did up there.”

Libby looked at her.

Bernie hunched up her shoulders. “Well, I did.”

“I told you my dream, remember?”

Bernie sighed and checked the flame under the milk. She didn’t want it to boil over.

“This is just so weird.”

“If you’re saying that, it must be good.”

“And I can’t even be sure. I think I imagined the whole thing.”

“Kane’s tripping and falling?” asked Libby.

“But that’s the thing. I could have sworn I saw something move across the floor. By itself,” said Bernie.

The milk started to bubble. Bernie took it off the flame and poured a tiny bit into each mug. Then she mixed together the ingredients in each mug until they formed a paste, after which she poured the rest of the milk in.

“And?” Libby prompted.

Bernie took out a tray and began to put the mugs on it. “I think Bessie did it.”

“Did what?”

“Moved it. Made it move. I ran up the stairs and looked. Kane had tripped over an old book that was lying on the floor. A book of Celtic mythology.”

“Maybe someone left it there?” Libby suggested.

“Maybe,” Bernie said. “But I don’t think so. It had no business being there. And here’s the clincher. I opened it up. There was an inscription:
To Bessie from Ken. I hope you find this as interesting as I do
.”

Libby stayed silent.

“Exactly,” Bernie said as she got the whipped cream
out of the fridge. She put two big dollops in four of the mugs and added a sprinkle of cinnamon on top.

“There’s more, isn’t there?” Libby said after a moment had gone by.

“I saw her. I heard her. She told me, ‘Now we’re even-steven.’”

“Even-steven meaning she and Kane?”

“Correct,” Bernie said.

“But I thought Amethyst pushed her.”

“She did, but I think Bessie blamed Ken. After all, if he hadn’t gotten involved with Amethyst…”

Libby finished the sentence for her. “This never would have happened.”

“Exactly,” Bernie said. “And she was smiling. And then she said, ‘See you later, alligator.’”

Libby got out the bag of marshmallows and placed three each in the two remaining mugs. “She said that to me, too.”

“You think I should tell the guys?” Bernie asked.

Libby put the bag of marshmallows back. “I think you should stick to the ‘he tripped and fell out the window” story and leave the rest of it alone.”

“I think so, too.” Bernie put the whipped cream back in the fridge.

“But I believe you,” Libby said.

Bernie grinned. “You do?”

“Yeah. I do. It makes sense in a weird kind of way. But no one else will.” Libby took a Tupperware container full of gingersnaps down from the shelf and began putting them out on a plate.

“I guess Bessie finally got her payback,” Bernie said.

“So it would seem,” Libby agreed as she finished arranging the cookies. “What is it they say about a woman abused?”

“What they say is, ‘Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.’”

“But she wasn’t a woman,” Libby objected. “She was a teenager.”

“Even worse,” Bernie said, thinking back to when she was that age. Then she picked up the tray, and she and Libby went upstairs to join the guys.

K
en looked at Bessie. “How could you do that?” he demanded.

She blinked. “Do what?”

“Kill me of course.”

He didn’t know how he knew he was dead. He just did.

“Oh that.” Bessie shrugged. “You were going to die anyway. At least this way you’re here with me.”

“But you made me fall.”

“You deserved it. You hurt my feelings.”

Ken looked around. He was standing a little way from where he’d gone out the window. He glanced down at himself. He was now wearing the same clothes he had worn at the school. What was that line from one of the Grateful Dead’s songs?
What a long strange trip it’s been?
Then a horrible idea occurred to him.

“Is Amethyst here too?”

Bessie pouted. “You don’t even want to talk to me. All you’re interested in is her.”

“No. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“It certainly sounds that way to me.”

“Honestly, that’s not why I’m asking.”

Bessie looked at him for a moment. Then she said, “No. She’s not here.”

“Good.” Ken heaved a sigh of relief. “Is anyone else here?”

“Like who?”

He thought back to when he used to live at the school. “Like Esmeralda.”

Bessie giggled. “Nope. It’s just us. Isn’t that super?”

Ken thought for a moment. Then he took Bessie’s hand and gave it a squeeze.

“Yes, it is,” he said to her. “It really is.”

I always think of Halloween food as fall food—food made out of apples and pumpkins, pears and cranberries; food seasoned with ginger and cinnamon and cloves; food that says, “Come in and pull up a chair.” Here are a few offerings. Two of them are Mexican in origin and are served up in celebration of Mexico’s Day of the Dead, one of the recipes comes from the niece of a good friend of mine, and the remaining one comes from my recipe box. I’m not sure where I got it from, but I’ve been making it for years and can tell you that it’s virtually bulletproof.

Here are two recipes that Mexicans serve on the Day of the Dead.

Calabaza en Tacha

This Mexican recipe uses pumpkin in an unusual way. The dessert is very sweet, and a little goes a long way.

Cranberry Walnut Bread

This bread couldn’t be simpler to make. It makes one relatively small loaf.

When sisters Bernie and Libby Simmons sign on to cater a prize pooch’s birthday bash, they think they’re ready for anything. But they haven’t bargained for a killer with a bone to pick…

A Little Taste of Heaven catering certainly knows how to feed people.
Dogs
, however. .? Bernie and Libby will have their chance to impress guests of the four-legged variety when they lay out the spread for Trudy the Pug’s birthday luncheon. But this isn’t just any doggie ’do. Trudy’s owner, Annabel Colbert, is one of the richest women in town—and as mascot of the Colbert toy company, Trudy herself is a bona fide celebrity.

When the big day arrives, Trudy and her canine cohorts are ready to dig in to the delicacies—but the first to dip her fangs into the wine is Annabel. Mere moments later, the hostess is shrieking she’s been poisoned—and proving it by falling face first into her soup. After two days in a coma, Annabel is dead.

It seems the woman who had everything also had her share of enemies. In fact, Annabel was cheating, blackmailing, or backstabbing most of the people she knew, including her very own best friend, her very own husband, his personal assistant, and last but not least, Trudy’s trainer and kennel owner.

With so many suspects, sniffing out the truth is rapidly becoming a tricky not to mention risky proposition. Bernie and Libby had better close the oven on this case fast—before
they
get burned…

Please turn the page for an exciting sneak peek of A CATERED BIRTHDAY PARTY coming in December 2009!