Another thing. Kate had noticed Hubbard hadn’t eaten any meatloaf at dinner, just pushed it around on his plate before burying it under a second helping of mashed potatoes.
Suppose even before he knew how to walk the baby Doug had chosen the vegetarian way, crawled to that cupboard, and hid the bones he so detested. Kate’s great-aunt Wichita always held that Shocksville things came with a warp in them. Did that go for vegetarianism, too? Had Hubbard learned the trick of changing himself into a vampire fruit bat to raid local sap buckets, orchards, and the very fruit bowls people used to brighten their dining rooms?
Maybe Hubbard wasn’t the killer. But Kate was sure she had in her pocket proof he was the Phantom Sapsucker.
Hubbard yelped on the stairs. “Careful with that scythe, sir,” he urged the Grimmer.
In the third-floor hallway Hubbard announced they were going to reenact the crime and began assigning parts. Kate was sure this kind of nonsense would get them nowhere. She cleared her throat. When Hubbard turned, she held up the apple as if to match its tooth marks to his canines.
Hubbard recognized the apple and turned pea-soup green. “Yes, I’m the Phantom Sapsucker,” he admitted in a trembling voice. “So I stole some fruit and sugar-maple sap. Hey, I slept in your attic. So put me in jail and throw away the key. But Mrs. O’Lantern, I swear I didn’t kill your husband, or Sam Spook either.”
Kate knew right then and there that poor Doug Hubbard wasn’t the murderer. “I believe you,” she said.
The Grimmer agreed. “Your vampire fruit bats are never bloodthirsty.”
“Boy, that’s a relief!” said Anna. “It’s a bummer when the cop’s the murderer.”
“But if it wasn’t Hubbard...” asked Tree, “...then who?” said Owl.
Kate turned to Strawfoot. “That was some story you came up with about the murder rampage, Spud.”
“An educated guess, dear lady.”
“You even explained the pumpkin juice on the attic stairs before Constable Hubbard mentioned it,” said Kate. “Maybe you knew how it was done because you did it.”
“I’m neither bird nor bat,” said Strawfoot. “How could I lock the door from the inside and fly out the transom?”
“My great-aunt Wichita used to say people don’t look behind a door unless they’ve stood there themselves,” replied Kate. “I don’t look behind doors. But I bet if I’d looked behind Jack’s I’d have found you staring out at me.”
Hubbard stepped forward.
“Stop right there, Constable,” said Strawfoot. “Arrest me and I’ll tell the world you are the Phantom Sapsucker and let rural justice take its hideous course.”
With his lower lip atremble, Hubbard threw back his shoulders. “I know my duty,” he said. “Professor Hayford Strawfoot, I arrest you for the murder of Jack O’Lantern and Sam Spook.”
Tapping Strawfoot with the flat of his scythe, the Grimmer added, “Spud, baby, let’s talk moral turpitude here.”
“Wow,” said Anna.
“You get charged with murder and, convicted or not, you’ll lose your academic tenure,” said the Grimmer. “I’ll see to that.” And he could. In addition to his day job, the Grimmer was a trustee at Bogeyman A&M.
Strawfoot’s jaw stuffing sagged downward. “But how will I finish my scientific work?” he protested.
“Here’s the deal,” said the Grimmer. “Plead guilty to the murders. We’ll call your piddling leap for gain and glory a crime of passion. You won’t hang. The judges always consult with me on death penalties. I can promise you life at the county prison farm. You can continue your scarecrowery studies there.”
Strawfoot brightened. “You mean I’d be outstanding in my field again?” He struck a limp but noble pose. “I accept your offer, sir. Perhaps I can atone for my crimes by making the world a better, a crow-free place.”
“One more thing, everybody,” said the Grimmer, “We’ve all got to swear not to reveal the Phantom Sapsucker’s identity.”
“Who...” said Owl, “...wouldn’t?” added Tree.
Anna put her arm in Hubbard’s. “A wife can’t be made to testify against her husband,” she said.
“Of course I’ll never tell,” said Kate. “As for Strawfoot, my Jack wasn’t vindictive. He’d have voted for life on the prison farm, too.”
“My lips are sealed,” Strawfoot assured everyone.
“Okay,” said the Grimmer. “Confession’s good for the soul. So let’s hear it.” He gestured to give the professor the floor.
Strawfoot took a deep breath and began. “Well, after he gave Spook permission to search the attic I heard Jack say he wanted Spook’s help to prove I was juggling the numbers in the scarecrow banding.
“Just as I feared, he’d caught on to what I was doing. The banded birds Jack scared away always came back. Mine never did. Why? Because I paid them to take a little vacation at the shore. I even paid Mr. Big, the Crow Magnum himself, to put out a contract on Jack.
“But if Jack was starting to blab, I’d have to do the job myself. And fast. And get Spook, too. Back in my room I watched through a crack in the door until Spook started up the attic stairs. Then I came up behind him and put a real dent in his fedora with my trusty putter and pushed him headfirst out the window.
“I hid when Miss Rexia clattered up the stairs. After she left I knocked on Jack’s door. I told him I had fresh data for our scarecrow study. He invited me in, never dreaming how far I’d go to win the Cowbell Prize.
“As he sat busily gathering up the papers he’d been showing Spook I stepped around behind him and crushed his head open. I dumped every paper on his desk into the fire, a real messy job because now they were covered with his pumpkin juice. Then I used his key to lock the door so I could make a thorough search for anything else incriminating. Hearing Kate in the hall, I flattened myself against the wall next to the door in case she had a key. I stayed there behind the door until she left. Then I ran to my room.”
Strawfoot held out his wrists for Hubbard’s handcuffs. “Well, let’s get started,” he said. “My scientific work can’t wait.”
Kate lay in bed listening to the distant music as Shocksville’s Halloween Parade stepped off. Listening was better than sleep, which, since that damned aluminum-siding salesman, always brought the O’Lanterns the same terrifying dream.
They would be standing together in the doorway on a dark Outside night watching an endless procession of children move along the street and up the walks to the houses and down again. Each child carried her husband’s head with an inside light to help it find the way. (Jack had told her how ancient kings made drinking cups from the skulls of their enemies.)
The youngest children came first, costumed as little angels, ballerinas, killer bees, and ladybugs. When they reached the door where the O’Lanterns stood they all said, “Triggertreed” and offered Jack’s head for them to drop candy in. The older children followed, cheerleaders, ninja warriors, Spider-Men in several sizes like nesting dolls, lady vampires, zombies, and, finally, coffins and tombstones with legs.
Kate wasn’t afraid of the children. It was the guardian creatures hovering all around them, always just beyond the light, who made her tremble. They frightened Jack, too. He said they whispered that they carried destruction in their fingertips. They told Kate they knew the O’Lanterns were not, as the children believed, neighbors dressed up for the occasion. She could tell those ominous dark shapes hated Shocksville even more than Shocksville feared them. She did not know why.