Trick or Treat Murder (16 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Lucy wished she had thought to put Lenk's quilt in a bag; it was so saturated with oil and grease that it left her hands feeling dirty.

Nothing the matter with a little dirt, she told herself, taking the quilt out of the car. You can always wash your hands.

She crossed the gritty asphalt of the service station and opened the office door.

"I'm returning your blanket," she said, cautiously poking her head in.

Lenk stared at her, his little piggy eyes were hostile.

"I'll just put it down here," said Lucy, abandoning her plan of looking for clues in her hurry to escape.

"Not so fast," he growled. "You're married to Stone, ain't ya?"

"I'm married to Bill Stone, if that's who you mean."

"That's the guy. I want you to tell him about this," said Lenk, waving a piece of limp letterhead in front of her face.

Lucy stepped forward, reaching for the letter, and heard the office door thud shut behind her. It was broad daylight, she was in a public place, so why did she feel trapped? Was it the confined space of the office, the clutter of papers and the stacks of dusty old cardboard boxes that climbed the walls?

"I'll tell him," said Lucy. "What is it?"

"That's for me to know and you to find out," teased Lenk, sensing her discomfort.

"I'm outta here," said Lucy, turning to go.

"There a fire or something?" he asked, putting a hand on the door and holding it shut. "It's from Northstar, that's what it is. They don't want my station anymore—they're not renewing my contract."

"Let me see that," said Lucy.

The letter was short and to the point. Following the meeting with the historical commission, Northstar's marketing department had reviewed the situation and determined that an alternative location would be preferable for their full-service station. In line with the company's current marketing policies, they would be unable to renew Mr. Lenk's contract as a dealer. They were grateful for Mr. Lenk's years of participation as a member of the Northstar team and wished him all the best in the future.

Lucy had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. She slowly raised her eyes and met Lenk's.

"It's because of the commission. I lost my chance to fix up the station—'cause o' your husband!" He shoved his face right in hers, giving her the full benefit of his foul breath.

"It wasn't just Bill," said Lucy, standing her ground. "They didn't even vote. They asked Norths- tar to come back with an improved plan, that's all."

"Big companies like Norths tar ain't gonna waste time on a bunch o' small-town cranks. They can go anywhere. They sure don't need me. They'll put whatever kinda station they want out on the highway—they'll put an igloo out there if they want."

"You're right," said Lucy, sympathizing with him in spite of herself. "Can't you become an independent dealer? Get some no-name gas?"

"Lookee here, missy," he said, pointing a blackened finger at her. "This here's all your fault, you and that husband o' yours. Think you can move in and tell people what to do. That commission wrecked the best deal I was ever gonna get."

Lenk was working up quite a head of steam and Lucy decided the office was definitely too small for both of them. The pungent smell of gasoline and assorted engine fluids, not to mention Lenk himself, was overpowering. Her head began to swim.

"Who's gonna make that up to me, hunh?" he demanded, stepping closer to her. "Nobody, that's who!" His face was just inches from hers. "I got screwed, and I know who did the screwing."

Lenk paused for breath, and Lucy took the opportunity to slip through the door. Her heart was pounding wildly as she gulped great mouthfuls of fresh air. Hurrying to the car, she quickly climbed inside, half expecting him to follow her. He didn't, however. In fact, when she looked back and saw him standing in the doorway, she could have sworn he was laughing at her.

CHAPTER THIRTY

"I don't like it one bit," Lucy complained to Bill. "He's really got a grudge against you, you know. I wouldn't be surprised if we came home tonight and found the house burned to a pile of cinders."

"Chief Crowley promised to put on an extra patrol—said he's aware of the situation and keeping an eye on things."

"Why doesn't that make me feel a whole lot better?"

"Do you want me to stay home? I could borrow a shotgun from Mr. Sanford." The Sanfords were the Stones' nearest neighbors on Red Top Road, and Mr. Sanford was always taking potshots at the groundhogs that raided his garden.

"And miss the party? We'll just have to hope for the best," Lucy grumbled, slipping the last of the dinner plates in the dishwasher and shutting the door. "Now, would you please get down those boxes on the top shelf."

"Sure. What's in them?"

"Cupcakes. Twelve dozen."

"When did you have time to bake cupcakes?"

"In batches. I got the last two dozen done this morning. Zoe didn't go back to sleep after her midnight snack so I baked cup-cakes."

"In the middle of the night? You're nuts," said Bill.

"Who needs sleep, anyway?" Lucy said, yawning.

"I'll take everybody out tomorrow so you can have a nice long nap," said Bill, slipping his arms around her. "It's a promise."

"Really?" Lucy turned her face up to his.

"Yup." He bent down to kiss her.

"Mom, Elizabeth's hogging all the makeup!" Sara burst open the pantry door.

Startled, Lucy turned.

"Sara, you look great!" Sara was already in her costume, the pink tutu she'd worn in the ballet recital last spring.

"This turtleneck itches," she complained, scratching her neck.

"You'll need it, though. It's cold tonight," said Lucy. "And it really doesn't show too much."

Elizabeth, she saw, was seated at the kitchen table surrounded by every cosmetic Lucy owned.

"Mom, don't you have any eye shadow?" Elizabeth was also wearing her tutu, but she'd added a plaid flannel shirt and a pair of clunky black oxfords.

"Is that your costume?" asked Lucy.

"Yup. I'm a punk ballerina."

"That's kind of cute. Want me to pierce your nose for you?"

"That's not funny, Mom." Elizabeth's tone was withering. "What I really need is a tattoo."

"I think we've got some. The kind that wash off."

"Yeah. Right." Elizabeth was skeptical.

"In a cereal box." Lucy went back in the pantry and emerged triumphant with a huge box of crispy flakes. She dumped the contents into a bowl, plucked out the cellophane-wrapped sheet of tattoos, and then carefully poured the cereal back into the box.

"You have to eat this stuff up, you know."

"Thanks, Mom. I will," said Elizabeth, studying her face in the mirror she had propped up.

 "Where should I put it? On my cheek?"

"On your neck?"

"Neat. Say, Mom, what are you going as?"

"Myself."

"You've got to wear a costume!"

"That's right," agreed Bill. He had stuffed himself into Lucy's black maternity tights, added a yellow and black striped T-shirt, and topped off his ensemble with a bobbing antennae headband.

"What are you supposed to be?"

"A bumblebee. I thought it was obvious."

"I get it," said Lucy, stifling a giggle. "You just took me by surprise."

"I need a stinger. Got any ideas?"

"Aluminum foil?"

"Great." Bill ripped a big sheet off the roll, sat down, and began shaping it.

"Mom, I can't find one of my hairy hands," bellowed Toby from upstairs. "The left one."

"Did you look under your bed?"

"I can't find it anywhere," he insisted.

"I'd better help him," said Lucy. "Not too much makeup, okay, girls?"

"Sara, why don't you try this Very Berry lipstick," offered Elizabeth, in a rare display of sisterly helpfulness.

Lucy ran upstairs to Toby's room. As always, it was a mess, with clothes and books and athletic gear strewn everywhere. She sighed.

"Toby, it's no wonder you can never find anything. You have absolutely got to clean this room tomorrow."

"Oh, Mom," he groaned. "You should see Rickie's room. My room is neat compared to his."

"Right." Lucy didn't believe a word of it. She knelt down, lifted the dust ruffle, and peered under the bed. She reached in and shoved a few books aside. She pulled out the hairy hand glove.

"I looked, Mom. I swear."

"Oh, you looked all right. You just didn't move things around. Listen, I'm serious about this. Inspection is at fifteen hundred hours tomorrow, that's three o'clock. If you don't pass, you're grounded. This room is unhealthy. It's an accident waiting to happen. It's a fire hazard."

"So, how do I look?" Toby turned to face her. He resembled a very short Lon Chaney, in his werewolf mask and gloves, plaid shirt and jeans.

"Aaaah," screamed Lucy, running from the room and clatter¬ing downstairs. "Run for your lives! It's the wolf man!"

Bill and the girls looked up.

"Mom, where's your costume?" asked Elizabeth.

"I told you. I'm not wearing one."

"You'll have more fun if you do," coaxed Bill.

"I haven't given it any thought."

"You could be a fairy princess," offered Sara. "Or Wonder Woman."

"Or a witch," suggested Elizabeth.

Lucy rolled her eyes at Bill.

"I know," he suggested brightly. "I bet Toby's baseball uniform would fit you."

Lucy went back upstairs and pulled the uniform out of Toby's bottom drawer. She took it into her room and tried it on. Standing in front of the mirror, she decided she looked like a stuffed sausage. So much for all that exercise at the Body Shop.

Bill appeared behind her and wrapped his arms around her.

"This makes me look awfully busty," complained Lucy.

"I noticed," said Bill, nuzzling her neck. "You look great."

"I do?"

"Mmm," said Bill, turning her around to face him. They kissed, and Lucy felt something inside her stir that had been dormant for a long time. Bill led her to the bed.

"We can't do this," she protested. "The kids will come looking for us."

"The girls are so absorbed in making themselves up that they wouldn't notice an atom bomb. Toby's so scattered he never notices anything. Sometimes I worry about that boy," said Bill, pulling her down beside him.

"Mom, we're gonna be late," called Elizabeth. "What are you doing up there?"

"Your mother is putting on her costume, and I'm helping her. We'll be right down," said Bill. He grinned wickedly at Lucy.

"I've never done it with a bumblebee before," said Lucy.

"How was it?"

"Sweet, like honey," she 

said, hooking her bra and pulling the baseball jersey over her head.

Detouring to Toby's room she found a baseball cap and slapped it on her head backward. Then she scooped up Zoe, who had been sleeping in her bassinet, and carried her downstairs.

"Have we got any black greasepaint?" she asked.

"Here," said Elizabeth, passing her a tube. Lucy bent down to see her face in the mirror, and drew a line across each cheekbone, under her eyes.

"Hey, Mom, you look pretty good," said Elizabeth. "Want some lipstick?"

"Okay."

"We've got Mostly Melon, Misty Mauve, Very Berry, and Great Grape."

"How about Misty Melon Mauve, or whatever."

"Great Grape is good. It's not as dark as it looks."

"Okay," said Lucy, smearing some on. She eased Zoe into the baby carrier and fastened the straps. "Have we got everything ?" she asked, grabbing the diaper bag. "Everybody take a box of cupcakes. Don't drop them. Don't eat them," she added, as an afterthought.

As the family straggled out and headed for the car, Lucy set a bowl of candy out on the porch and dropped a lit flashlight into the jack-o'-lantern.

"That's in case there are any trick or treaters," she said, hop¬ping into the passenger side front seat.

"Don't sit on your stinger," she cautioned Bill.

He carefully folded his shirt up, tucking the foil stinger against the small of his back, and slid behind the wheel.

"Have we got everything?" he asked. "Cupcakes?"

"I think we're all set," said Lucy, patting Zoe who was nuzzled against her chest. She glanced at the house. She had left the kitchen light burning, and the porch light. The jack-o'-lantern glowed, grinning a holiday welcome.

She thought of all the treasures the house contained. Her grandmother's silver. Old family photographs. Love letters from Bill. The kids' report cards. If it burned, all those things would be lost.

She couldn't bear to think about it. Tonight she wasn't going to worry about fires or death or car accidents. Tonight she was going to have fun.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Light was pouring from the windows of the old Hallett House when they pulled up under the porte cochere, and music could be heard from within. Night concealed the cracked clapboards and peeling paint—this was probably how the mansion had looked to guests arriving a hundred years ago.

"I'll let you out here," said Bill. "Looks like I'm going to have to park the car out in the field." He waited while Lucy and the kids scrambled out. When all was clear, Lucy gave him a little wave. "See you later," he said, as he slipped the Subaru into gear and drove off.

Climbing the steps, and approaching the heavy oak double doors, Lucy savored the moment. Maybe she was dressed in a ridiculous baseball costume, but she felt for all the world like a rich lady arriving at a magnificent mansion.

Entering the foyer, she paused. Black and orange streamers hung from the ceiling, artificial spiderwebs adorned the doors and windows. The room was packed with people, in all sorts of costumes, and at first Lucy didn't recognize anybody.

"Hi, guys, let me take those cupcakes," said a woman dressed exactly like Morticia Addams.

"Sue, I didn't recognize you!" Lucy exclaimed. "You look fabulous. Is that a wig?"

"One hundred percent polyester," said Sue, fingering her long, wavy black locks. "It's machine washable—if you believe labels. You look pretty cute, yourself."

"Cute's a curse," muttered Lucy. "I've finally got boobs, but nobody ever gets to see them. The baby carrier covers them up.

"

"Refreshments are in here," said Sue, indicating the way with a tilt of her head.

Lucy followed Sue and her trailing bits of costume. Together they arranged the cupcakes at the end of a long table covered with an orange cloth.

"This is terrific," said Lucy, surveying the table laden with food, the decorations, and the crowd of happy faces. "You did a great job."

"It all came together, didn't it?" Sue smiled proudly.

"Look, that's Marge Culpepper." She indicated a large woman in a witch costume.

"And that's Barney, dressed in a prison uniform. Pretty clever."

"There's Rachel Goodman—quite the femme fatale."

"Wow," agreed Sue. Rachel, Rickie's Mom, was wearing a sensational movie star dress made of clingy gold lame, which she had topped with a wavy blond wig and a pair of oversized sunglasses.

"Hi, guys," she said, hurrying over. "This seemed like a good idea but my underwire bra is killing me—I'd forgotten what a girdle feels like, not to mention high heels. I'm in agony."

"Well, you look mahvelous." Lucy turned to Sue. "Doesn't she?"

"Absolutely mahvelous. Want a cupcake?"

"Couldn't. Can't even breathe."

Three high school girls Lucy recognized as friends of Jennifer Mitchell's tottered over—they were wearing platform shoes from the seventies, miniskirts, crocheted vests, floppy hats, and granny glasses.

"How do we look? Did we get it right?" asked Biz Henderson.

"Disco... that was before our time, wasn't it?" Sue was all innocence.

"Definitely," agreed Lucy. "I, myself, was only a babe in arms. But from the little I remember, I'd say you look great."

"Thanks." The girls all smiled. "We're so happy tonight," continued Biz. "Did you hear? Jen is out of intensive care. Her mom says she's gonna be okay."

"That's great news," said Lucy. "When will she be coming home?"

"Not for a while. She has to have lots of rehab and stuff, but she isn't going to die or anything," said Biz.

Lucy pasted on a smile and tried not to think of the accident; how afraid she'd been that Jennifer wouldn't survive.

"We're going to visit tomorrow," added one of the other girls.

"Meanwhile, we're supposed to keep an eye on Jeff Ryan for her. He's her boyfriend and we don't want anybody else to grab him while she's in the hospital."

"You'd better get busy," said Sue. "Isn't that him, dancing with • Laurie Frye?" Laurie was notorious.

"Do you believe her? Jen's in the hospital," muttered Biz, as the girls hurried off.

"Aren't you glad you're not sixteen?" asked Sue.

"No," confessed Lucy. "I think I'll circulate, and see what the kids are up to."

Strolling into the ballroom, where the games were set up, Lucy spotted Toby in the group clustered around the apple-bobbing tank.

The girls, she guessed, would not be interested in getting their faces wet and messing up their makeup. Sure enough, she soon found Sara engaged in a lively game of Duck, Duck, Goose. Elizabeth was standing in a corner, preening and gossiping with her friends.

Noticing that Zoe was becoming increasingly restless in the baby carrier, Lucy looked for a quiet corner. She found it in the drawing room, where tables and chairs had been placed. A coffee urn sat in the corner, surrounded by a tempting assortment of snacks donated by Tammy Kurtz at the Greengage Cafe.

Lucy poured herself a cup of hazelnut coffee, put a few of the chocolate-pecan treats on a paper plate, and headed for a shadowy corner. There she could enjoy her snack, and nobody would no¬tice if she nursed Zoe, too. She slid the diaper bag under a chair and sat down.

A sense of well-being crept over her as Zoe began to suck and her milk let down. She smiled to herself and gently stroked the baby's plump little cheek. She took a sip of coffee, and followed it with a bite of cookie. It was delicious, and she tried to guess what the ingredients were. There was a shortcake base, a layer of nuts and caramel, and the whole thing was topped with a drizzle of dark chocolate. Without exact proportions, it would be hard to duplicate, she decided.

"Let's sit over here," she heard Doug Durning say, and looked up. She wouldn't have recognized him—he was dressed in black tie and tails, had slicked his hair back, and was wearing vampire teeth.

"Excuse me," he said to his companion, as he slipped the teeth into a white handkerchief. "That's better."

He was with Krissy, of all people. Well, she wasn't wasting much time, thought Lucy. Krissy was dressed in flowing white draperies that showed off her figure, and had frosted her hair. Lucy had no idea what her costume was. A fairy of some sort? A Midsummer Night's Dream? Maybe an early frost, she guessed, spotting some blackened leaves pinned to her shoulder.

"I just love this house," said Krissy, giving Doug a flirtatious smile.

Oh, ho, thought Lucy. Krissy must have given up on Dr. Mayes and was looking for somebody new. No doubt about it, Doug was attractive and he could stand a little attention. He'd been through a lot lately, with the fire and all.

"It would be such fun to fix it up. I'd use black and white in the foyer—keep it formal. But I'd go wild with color in the rest of the rooms. Red for the dining room, pink and gold for the ballroom—can't you just see it?"

"Sure," said Doug, popping a cheese puff into his mouth. "Sounds great. It would take a hell of a lot of cash, though."

"I suppose it would," said Krissy, drawing her finger around the rim of her coffee cup, and lifting her eyes to meet Doug's.

This is so funny, thought Lucy, stifling a giggle. The woman was clearly signaling her availability. She wished she could see Doug's reaction but his back was to her.

"This old building is in pretty bad shape," said Doug, eager to display his expertise. "The sills are probably rotted—there's a lot of water damage. The land is probably worth more without the house than with it."

"How can that be?" asked Krissy, slipping her finger in her mouth and sucking it.

Did I ever stoop to tricks like that? wondered Lucy. She and Bill had been together for such a long time that she really couldn't remember what it had been like to be single and seeking a mate.

"Because of the hysterical district, that's how. Anybody buying this land with the house would have to pour a ton of money into restoring it. If the house was gone, you could put anything you wanted here. It's a prime location, with a water view. Somebody'd snap it up, believe me."

"Business is way over my head," confessed Krissy, making her eyes very large. "I can't even balance my checking account."

Lucy almost snorted in disbelief. If the Body Shop's success was any indication, Krissy was an extremely shrewd business-woman.

"Say," said Doug, with studied casualness. "Whaddya say we split? Find someplace that serves something a bit stronger than coffee?"

"Sounds good to me," said Krissy, rewarding him with a sexy smile.

"So here you are," said Bill, joining Lucy at the table. "I've been looking for you everywhere. Having a good time?"

"I sure am," said Lucy, grinning. "I've been people watching. I just saw true love, or maybe it was true lust, bloom."

"Yeah?" said Bill, leaning across the table. "What happened?"

"Well, first she went like this," said Lucy, running her finger around the cup. "And then she did this." She put her finger in her mouth.

"That's pretty good," said Bill. "I'm interested. Wanna dance?

"With the baby?" 

"Sure."

"So, you like kids?' said Lucy, leading the way to the dance floor.