Town in a Pumpkin Bash (24 page)

Candy felt a chill. “Why? Who else asked you?”

Mr. Gumm shrugged. “Some reporter woman called me about it yesterday. I don’t know
how she tracked me down—I was still over at my sister’s place—but she found me. Though
I told her the same thing I’ll tell you—I just don’t know. Never heard what happened.
That young dead woman just seemed to…disappear….”

He turned his gaze back out toward High Field. “There was one thing I heard about
her, though, back in those days. Can’t quite remember where I heard it. Must have
been from someone around town.”

“And what did you hear about her, Mr. Gumm?” Candy asked quietly.

“Well, it’s funny…but someone told me she was one of the island people.”

Doc and the boys showed up at half past noon, just as a third TV truck—this one from
a station in Manchester, New Hampshire—was heading out of the parking lot on its way
home. They’d shot a live feed for the noontime newscast right from the pumpkin patch,
and somehow Candy and Maggie had allowed themselves to be lassoed into it, talking
live on the air for a minute or two. Artie got a call from a friend in Concord, who
just happened to be watching the broadcast, and Doc and the boys hurried right over
to the pumpkin patch.

“It all happened so fast,” Candy told him, still sounding a little bewildered by the
whole thing. “There we were, live on the air, before we knew what was happening.”

“Candy did most of the talking,” Maggie added, pointing at her friend. “All I told
them was what I saw from the tractor’s seat.”

“The place has been crawling with reporters all morning,” Candy said, “ever since
word got out.”

“We heard about it too,” Doc said grimly. “I was out in the fields all morning and
decided to run into town for lunch. Didn’t know what was going on until Finn and the
boys filled me in. All this talk about a pumpkin patch killer. Sure got the business
folks around here—including me—worried about the town’s reputation.”

“They’re plenty concerned over at the police station as well,” Finn informed them.

“Have they said anything else about the investigation?” Candy asked. “Any suspects?”

Finn just shook his head. “Not that I’ve heard, no, though I’m sure they’re looking
into Sebastian’s past and current acquaintances. My guess is it was someone he knew—someone
who lured him here. But I haven’t been able to confirm that. I’ve been trying, but
whatever’s going on, the police aren’t saying.”

“They’re feeling the pressure,” Artie surmised, “especially if this latest murder
puts them in the national spotlight.”

“And like Doc said, we don’t need that kind of publicity,” Bumpy added.

Candy tilted her head. “No, we sure don’t.” Her brow fell in thought. “So the quickest
way to end this mystery is to solve it. Find the Pumpkin Patch Killer.”

“That’s right,” Artie said, “and the sooner the better.”

“Then maybe we can all get back to our regular lives,” Bumpy added.

“I’m sure that’s exactly what the police are trying to do—solve this thing,” Doc said
hopefully, watching his daughter, “so maybe we should leave it to them.”

“Maybe we should, Dad,” Candy said, still thinking, “but what if there’s something
they’re missing? Something that no one else knows about?”

“And what would that be?”

“I don’t know yet.”

Finn gave her a stern look. “You investigating again?”

Candy turned to him. “Let’s just say I’m following up on a hunch. It could lead nowhere.”

“But it could lead
somewhere
,” Doc said, “and that’s what worries me.”

“Look,” Candy said, trying to keep the conversation light, “I just have to check something
out—do a little research. And it might help us get to the bottom of all this. I promise
I won’t get into any trouble.”

“But to quote someone who’s near and dear to me, trouble seems to have a way of always
finding
you
,” Doc pointed out, with a wry smile.

“I know, Dad, but I can’t help that. I can only do what I have to do.” And leaving
it at that for the time being, she turned toward Maggie. “I hate to ask, but can you
cover for me for an hour or two?”

“Sure, boss!” Maggie saluted her. “No worries. Consider yourself covered.”

“Thanks. You’re a saint.”

“Hmm, Saint Maggie,” she mused. “It
does
have a ring to it, doesn’t it?”

“Well, as long as you’re handing out sainthoods, I guess we can help out around here
for a few hours as well,” Doc said. “Especially since you seem set on doing whatever
it is you’re doing. But remember, you promised—don’t go getting yourself into trouble.”

Now it was Candy’s turn to give him a half smile. “Dad, you know I’d never do that.”

She glanced at her watch. Twelve thirty-five. She walked to the farm stand, grabbed
her tote bag from its hiding spot behind the front counter, and flung it over her
shoulder. By the time she turned back around, Wanda Boyle’s minibus was trundling
up the unpaved road toward the parking lot.

She turned lastly to Finn. “You’ll let me know if you hear anything else from the
police department, right?”

Finn nodded gruffly. “The moment I catch wind of something new, I’ll let you know.”

She nodded gratefully. “Thanks. Now if you’ll excuse me,” she said to her friends
as she started off across the field, “I have a bus to catch.”

She headed to her Jeep first and grabbed the printout of the
Herald
’s front page that Maggie had left laying on the passenger seat. She glanced back
over it as she crossed the parking lot.

By the time she reached the bus, all the passengers had disembarked and were headed
off across the field or meandering over toward the farm stand. Wanda was the last
one down the step and out through the folding door.

She’d passed on the retro-tourist-guide outfit today and instead looked like a zookeeper,
in khakis, a wide black belt, and an Aussie slouch hat with a leather chin strap,
one side turned up against the crown. She saw Candy coming, crossed her arms, and
waited.

“Morning, Wanda,” Candy said as she approached.

“Morning, Candy.” There was more than a touch of suspicion in her tone.

Candy stopped a few feet away, cleared her throat, and
continued. “I wonder if you’d mind if I asked you a few questions?”

“Depends on what you’re asking.”

Candy held up the printout. “I read the quote you gave to that reporter from Boston.
The one where you said you thought there should be a wider investigation. I’m just
wondering what you meant by that?”

“You know
exactly
what it meant.”

Candy scrunched up her face. “And what would that be?”

Wanda frowned and waved a hand out toward High Field. “All these murders that have
been going on. Something’s not right.”

“In what way?”

Wanda gave her an annoyed look, glanced around quickly to make sure they were alone,
and lowered her voice. “You know what I mean. That article was right. We’re becoming
the murder capital of Maine. There’s something going on—and I’m keeping my eye out
for anything strange.”

“Is that why you’re running these tours of yours? Keeping an eye out?”

“Something like that,” Wanda said, nodding her head a little.

“You’ve done a lot of research for your tour, haven’t you?”

Again, a look of suspicion flicked across Wanda’s gaze. “I did some reading and some
day trips around the area, sure. Why do you ask?”

Candy slid the printout of the
Herald
’s front page into her tote and pulled out the black-and-white photo of Emma’s grave.
“Have you visited the cemeteries in the area?”

“Of course. I’ve researched them all.”

Candy held up the photo so Wanda would see it. “Have any idea where this particular
tombstone might be?”

Wanda glanced suspiciously at Candy before looking down at the photo. She leaned forward
a little and focused in on it, finally reaching out for it, taking it in fingers with
red-painted nails. She studied it for several moments before
pointing at a spot on the photo with a pinky. “What’s it say down here?”

She was pointing to the lower area of the tombstone. “I don’t know. It’s too blurred
to read.”

She looked up at Candy, handing the photo back to her. “Emma?”

“That’s right.” Candy slid the photo into the tote bag.

“Who’s she?”

Candy wasn’t quite ready to answer. Instead, returning to the original subject, she
asked, “So, have you seen the tombstone?”

Wanda was silent for several long moments. “What if I have?”

“You mean you have?” Candy’s voice rose in excitement.

But her enthusiasm disappeared the next moment as Wanda gave her a smirk. “No, I didn’t
say ‘I have.’ I said, ‘What
if
I have?’”

“So you haven’t found it?”

“I’m not saying I have and I’m not saying I haven’t.”

Candy sighed. “Then what
are
you saying?”

“I’m saying I might have seen it. I’m not sure. I’d have to check it out.”

Again, Candy’s hope grew. “Where do you
think
you saw it?”

“There’s only one place it could be.” Wanda tilted her head toward the bus. “Buy a
ticket and I’ll show you.”

Candy nodded. She’d planned on taking Wanda’s tour anyway. “Okay, so how much is it?”

“For you, ten bucks.”

“Ten bucks! But what about the discount you promised?”

Wanda gave her a vengeful smile. “Lady, that
is
with the discount.”

The passengers were soon back on the bus, and Wanda drove off to the next stop, talking
as she went. “As you may have noticed, we’re a little ahead of schedule,” she told
her riders over the bus’s PA system, using a surprisingly pleasant and professional-sounding
tone. “So as an added bonus, before we head to our final stop on the tour, I thought
it might be fun to take a brief detour to one of Cape Willington’s hidden cemeteries.
Who’s up for that?”

There was some scattered applause and a few ragged cheers around the bus, prompting
Wanda to continue. “Now this particular cemetery we’re headed to is located a few
miles outside of town, off a little-known back road, among the ruins of an old settlement
that existed there back in the eighteen hundreds.”

As she talked, Wanda spun the steering wheel, and they turned left from the dirt farm
lane onto the paved road, heading northwest, away from town.

“Not many people know about it, but it was called Notch
Town, because as you’ll see, it sits near a notch between two low hills separated
by a stream. On an interesting side note, the fall color won’t be quite as wonderful
in that area as it was a week or two ago, the last time I was up there, but it should
still be a beautiful spot.”

As they drove farther out of town, turning onto one of the narrow back roads that
wound up through the cape, she continued, “This place we’re about to visit is mentioned
in only one or two old histories of the town, which I found on a back shelf at the
Cape Willington Historical Society while I was conducting research for an educational
project with my son. We love doing historical research together. He’s such a smart
kid, and it’s such a wonderful way for a mother and son to bond.”