Pewter grew expansive in the limelight. The more attention she received, the more she purred. Many people snapped photos of her, and she gladly paused for them. The newspaper photographer grabbed a few shots too. Well, that pesky Tucker had got her name in the papers once, the last time there’d been a murder in Crozet, but Pewter knew she’d be in color on the front page because the Harvest Festival always made the front page. Nor could she refrain from a major gloat over the fact that Mrs. Murphy and Tucker had to stay home, while she was the star of the occasion.
The craft and livestock prizes had been awarded, and now the harvest prizes were being announced. Miranda hurried over to stand behind her pumpkin. The gargantuan pumpkin next to hers was larger, indisputably larger, but Miranda hoped the competition’s imperfect shape would sway Jim Sanburne her way. With so much milling about and chatting she didn’t notice Pewter heading for the pumpkins. Mrs. Hogendobber felt no need to share this moment with the cat.
Mim, Little Marilyn, and Fitz-Gilbert stood off to the side. Mim noticed Harry and Blair.
“I know this Bainbridge fellow attended Yale and St. Paul’s but we don’t really know who he is. Harry ought to be more careful.”
“You never minded Fair as her husband and he’s not a stockbroker.” Little Marilyn was simply making an observation, not trying to start an argument.
“At the time,” Mim snapped, “I was relieved that Harry married, period. I feared she would go the way of Mildred Yost.”
Mildred Yost, a pretty girl in Mim’s class at Madeira, spurned so many beaus she finally ran out of them and spent her life as an old maid, a condition Mim found fearful. Single women just don’t make it to the top of society. If a woman was manless she had better be a widow.
“Mother”—Fitz-Gilbert called Mim “Mother”—“Harry doesn’t care about climbing to the top of society.”
“Whether she cares or not, she shouldn’t marry a person of low degree . . . I mean, once she’s established the fact that she can get married.”
Mim babbled on in this vein, making very little sense. Fitz-Gilbert heard her sniff that being a divorcée teetered on the brink of a shadowy status. Why was Mim so concerned with Harry and who she was dating? he wondered. No other reason than that she felt nothing could go on in Crozet without her express approval. As usual, Mim’s conversation did not run a charitable course. She even complained that the little witches, ghosts, and goblins overhead whirred too much, giving her a headache. The shock of recent events was making her crabbier than usual. Fitz tuned her out.
Danny Tucker, as Hercule Poirot, scooted next to Mrs. Hogendobber. His was the enormous pumpkin.
“Danny, why didn’t you inform me that you grew this . . . fruit?” Mrs. Hogendobber demanded.
“Well, Mom didn’t want to upset you. We all know you want that blue ribbon.”
Pewter arrived to sit between the two huge orange pumpkins, the finalists. Mrs. Hogendobber, talking to Danny, still didn’t notice her. Pewter was insulted.
Jim picked up Miranda’s pumpkin. He quickly put it back down. “These damn things get heavier every year.” Miranda shot him a look. “Sorry, Miranda.”
Pewter smelled pumpkin goo, as though the insides had been removed for pumpkin pie. She sniffed Miranda’s pumpkin.
“See, the cat likes my pumpkin.” Miranda smiled to the crowd.
“I don’t like any pumpkins,” Pewter replied.
“Do I want to pick this one up? I might fall over from the size of it.” Jim smiled but put his large hands around Danny’s pumpkin anyway. The enormous pumpkin was much heavier than the other pumpkin, oddly heavy. He replaced it. Puzzled, he lifted it up again.
Pewter, never able to control her curiosity, inspected the back of the pumpkin. A very neat, very large circle had been cut out and then glued back into place. If one wasn’t searching for it, the tampering could easily be missed.
“Look,” she said with forcefulness.
Danny Tucker was the only human who paid attention to her. He picked up his pumpkin. “Mayor Sanburne, I know my pumpkin’s heavy, but not this heavy. Something’s wrong.”
“That is your pumpkin,” Miranda stated.
“Yes, but it’s too heavy.” Danny picked it up again.
Pewter reached up and swatted the back of the orange globe. This led Danny’s eyes, much sharper than Jim’s or Miranda’s, to the patch job in the back.
“Jim, we’re waiting. We want a winner,” Mim called out impatiently.
“Yes, dear, in a minute,” he replied and the crowd laughed.
Danny pushed the circle and it wiggled. He reached into his jacket, retrieved a pocketknife, and slid it along the cutting line. The glue dislodged easily and he pried out the big circle. “Oh, wow!” Danny saw the back of a head. He assumed one of his buddies had done this as a joke. He reached in, grabbed the head by the hair, and pulled it out. A wave of sweet stink alerted him. This was no joke, no rubber or plastic head. Not quite knowing what to do he held the head away from him, giving the crowd a fine view of the loathsome sight. What was left of the eyes stared straight at them.
Danny, now realizing what he held, dropped the head. It hit the table with a sickening splat.
Pewter jumped away. She ran down to the squashes. If this was what the job of playing Halloween cat entailed, she was resigning.
People screamed. Jim Sanburne, almost by reflex, handed the ribbon to Miranda.
“I don’t want it!” Miranda screamed.
BoomBoom Craycroft fainted dead away. The next thud heard was Blair Bainbridge hitting the ground.
Then Little Marilyn screeched, “I’ve seen that face before!”
21
Therapists in the county agreed to work with the students at Crozet High to help them through the trauma of what they’d seen.
Rick Shaw wondered if they could help him. He disliked the sight of the decayed head himself but not enough to have nightmares over it. When he and Cynthia Cooper collected the head, the first thing they did, apart from holding their noses, was check the open mouth. Not one tooth remained in the head. No dental records.
Cynthia led Little Marilyn away from the sight and asked her to clarify her statement.
“I don’t know him but I think that’s the vagrant who was wandering around maybe ten days ago. I’m not certain as to the date. You see, he passed the post office and I walked to the window and got a good look at him. That’s all I can tell you.” She was shaking.
“Thank you. You’ve had more than your share of this.” Cynthia patted Little Marilyn on the back.
Fitz-Gilbert put his arms around her. “Come on, honey, let’s go home.”
“What about Mother?”
“Your father’s taking care of her.”
Meekly, Little Marilyn allowed Fitz to shepherd her to their Range Rover.
Cynthia stuck her notebook back in her pocket. As Rick was talking to other observers, the press photographer fired off some shots.
Cynthia took statements from Harry, Susan, Herb, Carol, Market, just everyone she could find. She would have interviewed Pewter if she could have. Market held the cat in his arms, each of them grateful for the reassuring warmth of the other.
Holding his wife’s hand, Cabell Hall mentioned to Cynthia that she and Rick might want to call the video stores and have them pull their more gruesome horror movies until things settled down.
“Actually, Mr. Hall, I have no authority to do that but as a prominent citizen you could, or your wife could. People listen to you all.”