Читать книгу Trick Or Treat Murder - Leslie Meier - Страница 13

“Never, ever eat any of your trick or treat candy before your parents have a chance to look it over.”

The next morning, Lucy kept her promise to Sara and visited the kindergarten. As she joined the other mothers in the back of the room, she felt remarkably light and unencumbered without the baby carrier strapped to her chest. She had taken Sue at her word when she insisted she would be happy to baby-sit and had left Zoe with her.

Lucy always enjoyed visiting the elementary school. Here, in the brightly decorated rooms, order prevailed. The children marched in lines, two by two. They practiced their round letters on lined paper. The answers were right, or they were wrong. There was none of the conflict and confusion that reigned in the real world. Here, for just a few minutes anyway, she could push the fire and Monica’s death to a dark, back corner of her mind.

Catching Officer Barney Culpepper’s eye, she gave him a little wave. He was standing in the front of the room, surrounded by the entire kindergarten class who were sitting cross-legged on the floor. At six feet, with a stocky build, he seemed enormous compared to the children. Lucy looked for Sara and found her in the front row, next to her best friend, Jenn Baker.

A hand shot up, and Culpepper leaned forward.

“Joey Wade, do you have a question?”

“What if my mom eats all my candy?”

The question set off a chorus of anxious laughter; Joey had voiced a shared concern.

“If you ate all your trick or treat candy yourself you’d probably get an enormous stomachache,” said Culpepper, grabbing his beer belly and groaning. “I hate it when that happens, don’t your?”

The kids laughed and nodded, and a few of the more active boys imitated him, grabbing their stomachs and groaning.

“John, Peter.” The names were accompanied by a stern look from teacher Lydia Volpe, and the boys settled down. Lydia was a pro, she had been teaching for years. She had also taught Toby and Elizabeth.

“There’s a reason why your parents should check your candy. They want to make sure it’s okay for you to eat, that it hasn’t been opened, and there are no germs.” Officer Culpepper was doing his best to warn the kids without frightening them, thought Lucy.

“My cousin got an apple for Halloween and he bit into it and there were pins inside,” volunteered a blond little girl dressed all in pink.

“My cousin bit into an apple and there was a razor blade,” added a little brunette, already accomplished in the art of one-upmanship.

A general buzz ensued in which Lucy heard poison, thumbtacks, and broken glass mentioned. She was shocked. Where did five-year-olds hear these things?

“Now, children,” reminded Mrs. Volpe. “Officer Culpepper hasn’t finished. He has more to tell us.” Her dark eyes flashed. “We listen with our ears, not our mouths.”

“Some of the stories you hear about Halloween aren’t true,” advised the policeman. “But it’s better to be safe than sorry.” He turned the page of an oversized flip chart. “These are my safety tips for Halloween. Number one: Never go trick or treating alone. Who are you going with, Joey?”

“My brother.”

“That’s good. How about you, Heather?”

“With my mom.”

“And you, Billy?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“Well, be sure you don’t go alone,” said Culpepper. “Here’s tip number two: Don’t wear a mask that covers your eyes and makes it hard to see. What can you use, if you’re not wearing a mask? Samantha?”

“Makeup?” Samantha was enchanted with the idea.

“That’s right. Makeup is better than a mask. Now for tip number three. If you go out after dark, carry a flashlight. Why should you carry a flashlight, Billy?”

“So you can see where you’re going?”

“You got it. And so the drivers of cars can see you. Ready for tip number four? Here it comes. You’ve heard it before. Have your parents check your candy before you eat it. Only one tip left. Sara, can you guess what it is?”

“You shouldn’t smash pumpkins or throw eggs or things like that,” said Sara, nodding virtuously. She obviously remembered an unfortunate incident last Halloween, when Toby had been caught toilet-papering the principal’s hedge. Lucy felt a blush rising from her turtleneck and studied her shoes as her cheeks reddened.

“That’s very true,” agreed Culpepper, winking at Lucy. “Trick or treating is more fun if you leave out the tricks.” He flipped to the last page, where a glowing jack-o’-lantern had the letters HAVE FUN carved into its face. “Tip number five is to have fun. Everybody, what are you going to do on Halloween?” he asked.

“Have fun!” the children chorused back.

“Thank you, Officer Culpepper, for visiting our class,” said Mrs. Volpe in her teacher’s voice. “Class, how do we thank Officer Culpepper?”

“Thank you, Officer Culpepper,” they shouted in unison.

“We have a Halloween treat for Officer Culpepper and our other visitors today,” announced Mrs. Volpe. “If Officer Culpepper will go to the back of the room with the others, the children can stand in the front.”

Culpepper joined the handful of mothers in the back of the room, placing himself next to Lucy, while Mrs. Volpe quickly arranged the children in front of the blackboard. “First, we have a finger-play. Ready?” The children raised their hands in front of their faces. “Begin.”

“Five little pumpkins sitting on a gate,” chanted the children.

“The first one said.” They each raised a finger. “My, it’s getting late.”

“The second one said.” Another finger went up. “I hear a noise.”

“The third one said.” Three fingers were now up. “It’s only some boys.”

“The fourth one said.” Only the thumbs were folded. “Having Halloween fun.”

“The fifth one said.” Out popped the thumbs. “Let’s run, let’s run!”

“When, OOH went the wind, and OUT (here they all clapped) went the lights, and away they all RAN (the hands went behind their backs) on Halloween night!”

The mothers applauded, smiling and beaming with pride.

“Now for our song.” Mrs. Volpe clapped her hand once and the children began singing to the tune of “Frere Jacques.”

“Pumpkin moonshines, pumpkin moonshines,

Where are you? Where are you?

Here I am this evening.

Boo, boo, boo! Boo, boo, boo!”

The mothers all laughed and clapped enthusiastically. Lucy caught Sara’s eye and gave her a wave and a smile.

“That’s the end of our program, thank you for coming,” said Mrs. Volpe, indicating the door.

Leaving the room, Lucy walked down the corridor with Officer Culpepper. They had been friends for a long time, and they’d gotten to know each other when they had served together on the Cub Scout Pack Committee.

“So, Barney, what can you tell me about the fire?” asked Lucy.

“Not much,” he said, smoothing back his hair and setting his cap on his head. “The chief’s taking this kinda personal. He likes to think he’s got a quiet, law-abiding town. The fires are bad enough, but now that nice lady Mrs. Mayes got herself killed. He’s doubled nighttime patrols—we’ve got two cruisers out instead of one—and he’s got the state troopers helping out. But arson’s tough. You can’t prove anything unless you catch ’em in the act. We don’t have enough manpower to cover every building in town.”

“Come on, Barney. That’s the official line. I want to know what you really think.”

“Trouble is, nobody thought too much about it at first. Just figured it was kids.”

“You don’t anymore?”

“Nope. School started for one thing. Vandalism always drops once they go back to school. Don’t have as much time to get into trouble. Fires oughta stopped, but they didn’t. If anything, they’ve been coming closer together. The frequency is increasing.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means we’ve probably got a nut on our hands. A pyro.”

“That’s what I think,” said Lucy. “And he seems to go for old buildings. It makes me nervous. After all, our house is pretty old.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much. Guy from the fire marshal’s office said he thinks we’ll get this nut pretty soon. The more fires he sets the more likely he is to get careless. He’ll make a mistake and we’ll catch him.”

“Somehow that doesn’t make me feel a whole lot better. How many fires is it going to take? And it won’t bring Monica back.”

“That was a real shame,” said Barney, holding the door for her.

“It sure was. See you around, Barney.”

Lucy paused on the steps and watched as Barney climbed in his cruiser and pulled out of the school driveway. The holiday program hadn’t taken long, it was only ten o’clock. There was no need for her to hurry back; Sue wouldn’t mind keeping Zoe a bit longer. Making up her mind, Lucy crossed the street to the Broadbrooks Free Library.

The library had changed quite a bit since Miss Tilley’s retirement. The polished wood floors that creaked whenever anyone moved, earning the transgressor a baleful stare from Miss Tilley, had been covered with carpet. Fluorescent lights had been installed, and it was now possible to read the titles in the stacks; readers no longer had to guess which was the right book and then take it to the window to check the title. These changes were all instigated by Miss Tilley’s successor, perky little Bitsy Howell.

“My replacement” as Miss Tilley insisted on calling her, was breezy and casual. While Miss Tilley had emphasized order, and tolerated nothing out of place, Bitsy thrived on chaos. Her office was a mess, overflowing with papers and books waiting to be cataloged.

Bitsy greeted everyone who came in the door cheerfully, waived overdue fines with abandon, and resolutely ignored the three-book limit. Under her management, circulation had dramatically increased, donations were up, and a building drive was underway.

“Lucy, I haven’t seen you for a while. We have some wonderful new children’s books—I’m sure Sara would love them.”

“I’ll have to bring her in,” promised Lucy. “I’m doing some research today. Tell me, do you keep old copies of The Pennysaver?”

“Sure do. All the way back to 1837. It was called the Advertiser in those days. Fascinating reading, if you’ve got the time.”

“I’m only interested in some recent issues. The last few months.”

“Sure. They’re right here,” said Bitsy, ushering Lucy into a workroom. “I’ll just move these out of your way,” she said, scooping up some magazines, “and you can sit right here. The most recent papers are in this box—we send them to be microfilmed at the end of the year. You’re welcome to help yourself, just put them back the way you found them, okay?”

Pulling out a stack, Lucy thumbed through the old newspapers until she found the July 9 issue. Her eye immediately fell on the dramatic page one photo of the old movie theater, which had gone up in flames on Sunday, July 5, providing a fiery climax to the holiday weekend.

Ted’s story emphasized the heroism of the firefighters, who had managed to save much of the grand old movie palace. Winchester College had been planning to restore the gilded walls, red plush seats, and ceiling murals to create a performing arts center.

“We’re grateful to the wonderful volunteer firefighters,” said College President Gerald Asquith. “This terrible fire has delayed the restoration project, but we plan to go forward as soon as additional funds are raised.”

There was no suggestion that the fire had been deliberately set. Everyone Ted interviewed agreed the fire was an unfortunate tragedy, probably due to a faulty electrical connection, or perhaps a holiday firework that landed on the wood-shingled roof.

Flipping through the papers, Lucy soon found the story about the second fire. BARN BURNS, blared the headline of the August 28 issue, nearly two months after the first fire. This time, firemen were unable to save the building.

“The structure was fully involved when we arrived,” Fire Chief Stanley Pulaski was quoted as saying. “A decision was made not to put any of our personnel at risk, our objective was simply to confine the fire and let it burn itself out.”

In other words, thought Lucy, they watched it burn. Again, there was no hint that the fire might have been deliberately set. Spontaneous combustion of new hay was given as the likely cause.

The third fire occurred only a month later, in late September. Fortunately, when the old powder house went up in flames it was quickly discovered, and the antique building, which dated from the Revolutionary War was saved. As Barney suggested, this fire was blamed on youthful vandals.

“I want to make one thing absolutely clear,” warned Police Chief Oswald Crowley. “This sort of destructive behavior will not be tolerated in Tinker’s Cove.”

His warning went unheeded, thought Lucy, grimly noting that the Homestead burned barely three weeks later. This time there was no doubt that the fire was set. ARSON CLAIMS LIFE! declared the headline of the most recent issue. The headline was printed above a stark photo of the Homestead chimney, all that was left after the fire.

The story went on to say that fire officials were now taking a second look at the earlier fires, which seemed in retrospect to be the handiwork of the same deranged individual. “We’re determined to catch this perpetrator before he takes any more lives,” proclaimed Chief Pulaski.

A related story chronicled the amazing feats of Sparky, the accelerant-sniffing dog. “He’s not just my pet,” his handler was quoted as saying. “He’s my partner.”

As she replaced the papers in a neat pile, Lucy recited the dates of the fires. July 5. August 28. September 26: October 19. There didn’t seem to be a pattern to the fires, except for the fact that they were coming closer together.

Leaving the workroom, Lucy wandered over to the nonfiction section. There, among the self-help books she found a thick volume on abnormal psychology. A glance at the index revealed an entire chapter devoted to “Pyromania and Related Disorders.”

Bitsy smiled brightly as Lucy approached the desk.

“That’s really heavy reading,” she joked, taking the hefty volume. “Sure I can’t interest you in something lighter? We have some brand new mysteries.”

“I don’t have much time to read anymore with the baby. I’m just doing a bit of research.”

“We have some excellent material on postpartum depression,” offered Bitsy, determined to be helpful.

“I’m fine, really,” said Lucy. “Just curious about something.”

Bitsy couldn’t resist. “Curiosity killed the cat. Now, why do people say that? Curiosity is wonderful, isn’t it?”

“Sometimes. Sometimes it gets you in trouble.” Lucy took the book and tucked it under her arm. She knew from experience that asking questions could be dangerous.

Not this time, she thought, as she left the library and headed for Sue’s house. She was determined to find out who was setting the fires, but, she promised herself, she was going to be careful. Very careful.

Besides, she didn’t really have enough time to get into too much trouble. Before she started investigating, she had to bake some cupcakes. How many had she promised Sue? Two dozen?