Susan simply said, “I say restore the buildings as a museum. It could be a good lesson for all and those rooms have cozy, lovely proportions. I’m like Reverend Jones, everything today is too antiseptic and big. I’m really tired of big.”
After an hour of lively talk, the group began to trickle out. Harry, Susan, and BoomBoom stayed longest, helping Herb clean up, washing dishes and glasses.
Drying her hands, BoomBoom remarked to Harry, “I was so sorry to hear that Big Mim lost the Medaglia d’Oro filly. Stunning, that filly.”
“Fair was devastated. He thought she was one of the most perfectly formed horses he had ever seen. Big Mim was, well, in tears according to Fair, but still took it like a trooper. Being a grandmother was a comfort, I think.”
“Heard she doesn’t like the boy’s name, Roland.”
“Little Mim and Blair love the ancient history of Roland at the Roncevaux Pass. ’Course, Big Mim just ignored it and calls him Roy.”
BoomBoom laughed. “Those two never have gotten along. Still, they do love each other.”
“Would you want to be Big Mim’s daughter?” asked Harry.
“No,” the blonde replied. “I love being her friend, though.”
“Me, too. She’s one hell of a horsewoman.”
They nattered on, Susan chiming in as she wiped down the coffee table, Herb as he put away glasses. Each lady kissed Herb’s cheek, then each other as they left St. Luke’s.
On the drive home, the stars glittered in pale silver light. Friday would be a full moon.
“Good meeting.” Susan hit her brights. “At least Neil isn’t talking about algorithms anymore. He gave a straightforward treasurer’s report.”
“He’s figuring out that simple is better,” Harry said. “Always is, too, no matter what the subject.”
“Ned says what drives him crazy about his fellow politicians in Richmond is how they complicate things to make themselves look smarter. He also said the level of discourse is so low a man of average intelligence has to stoop to match it.” She smiled. “But there are some good people there in both chambers. He likes working with David Toscano and he likes working with some of the people from the farming counties. He’s not too thrilled with the ones from northern Virginia.”
“Like I said before, he’s a glutton for punishment.”
They rounded the curve, Mount Tabor up ahead.
“My tire light went on. Reach into the glove compartment and get out my pressure check, will you?” Susan turned in to Mount Tabor’s parking lot. “Oh, dear, Witchy Woo has fallen over. Come on, let’s set her up. They put a lot of work into this. Then I’ll check my tire.”
The two kept the brights on in the direction of the display and walked over.
They reached the corn bundles, all the arranged pumpkins, some cut as jack-o’-lanterns, the large baskets overflowing with gourds and squashes. Witchy Woo had fallen uphill onto the uneven ground.
Harry sniffed. “Something’s gone off.”
Susan inhaled. “Just. Probably a dead gopher somewhere. He’ll be gone tomorrow.”
Harry bent over to pick up the tumbled-over figure, noticing that its rubber mask was complete with a long, warty witch’s nose. She stood up again. “It’s not a gopher.”
Both women stared at the black-clad figure.
“Good God.” Susan put her hand to her face.
Harry reached down to pull off the mask.
Susan shouted, grabbing her arm, “Don’t!”
“Aren’t you off work tonight?” Harry, still upset, asked as Cooper crossed the parking lot in her civilian clothing.
“I am, but Dabny called me from headquarters and said that you, once again, have found a strange corpse. So here I am. Anyway, I’d like to see this before the body goes to the state medical examiner. You two stay here. I mean it.”
“All right,” Susan firmly agreed. “I’ll take charge of Harry.”
Cooper turned her back to walk away, then faced them again. “Are you two doing okay?”
Harry shrugged, and fibbed a tad. “Yeah. It’s gross but …” She shrugged again as Susan nodded in assent.
The police investigative team circled the display. The photographer snapped, stepping out of the way of the officers.
Dorothy Maddox, chief of forensics, had only been with the team a year. She was kneeling down, surgical gloves on, carefully touching the corpse’s arm. In the temporary lights now shining on the scene, she studied a swollen hand, and a forearm with purple splotches.
Cooper stood behind Dorothy. “Thirty-six hours at most, my guess.”
“Your guess isn’t far wrong. The nights have been cold, the days in the seventies. She’s on the other side of maximum rigor mortis, obviously, but intact, and that’s a huge help.” Dorothy stood up. “Is Rick on the way?”
No sooner was his name spoken than the sheriff pulled off the road and into the church driveway. He, too, was in his civilian clothes and driving his personal vehicle. He glanced toward Harry, then walked over to the scene.
“We’ll need to dust everything. The pumpkins, the baskets, every single thing.” He took a deep breath, then coughed slightly. “I hated to leave my ball game, but this is, well, original.” He paused. “There’s nothing like the odor of death, is there? It isn’t even that bad yet. I’m surprised the body wasn’t damaged.”
“Boss, can I remove the victim’s mask?” Dorothy asked. “I waited for you.”
“Yes, of course.” Rick motioned for all the lights to shine on the witch’s face.
Carefully, Dorothy removed the rubber mask with the hooked nose.
“My God,” Susan exclaimed, as she could see the face with the flashlight focused on it. “It’s Hester Martin!”
Harry recognized her all the way from where she stood in the parking lot. She covered her mouth with her hand, then let it fall. “Hester Martin. She never did a thing to anybody.”
Tears filled Susan’s eyes for the middle-aged lady. Her mind flashed to Hester proudly showing off produce, filling her specially decorated wooden wheelbarrows, some worn and painted green, some barn red, some faded marine blue. Large wheels were yellow with a pinstripe matching the color of the painted display cart. Hester had a good eye for proportion and color. The produce gleamed, as she had misted it, too. Susan’s tears rolled faster now. She met Harry’s eyes. “Remember when Hester declared that black gum trees were conspiring against humans? Well, everyone gets a free pass for a few crackbrained ideas. Hester’s seemed more imaginative than most.”
“I can’t believe this!” exclaimed Harry. She, too, cried a bit.
Rick was as surprised as they at the victim’s identity. “Dorothy, get the body out of here as soon as you can. We’re lucky it’s night.”
“Sure. I’ve done what I can do without disturbing the rest of this Halloween scene.”
“Here’s Ted. Excuse me.”
Rev. Ted Foster had driven over as soon as the sheriff’s office called him. He lived about twenty minutes up Route 810. Along the way, he’d had the presence of mind to pick up Bunky Fouche, the church groundskeeper.
Seeing Hester laid out in the witchy garb, Bunky had to be steadied.
Rick escorted both men directly to the corpse.
Bunky shook uncontrollably. “Oh, Sheriff, I can’t look at dead bodies.”
“Bunky, tell me who this is.”
“It’s Hester Martin, God rest her sweet soul. She was good to me.”
“Reverend Foster.” Rick turned to the minister, who also appeared shaken by the grisly sight and rank odor. “When did you put up this Halloween crèche, for lack of a better word?”
“Three days ago,” answered Reverend Foster, his voice low. “The witch was a manikin and she had straw hair.”