The Pumpkin Muffin Murder (3 page)

B
obby seemed to feel better the next morning. He acted more like his usual self, anyway, and didn’t complain too much about his ear.

Phyllis wasn’t surprised when the phone rang and she answered it to find her daughter-in-law, Sarah, on the other end. Sarah had been calling every day to check on Bobby, and Phyllis couldn’t blame her for that. She would have been just as worried if she’d been in Sarah’s position.

“He had a little trouble last night,” she said in answer to Sarah’s question about how Bobby was doing. “His ear hurt enough that he had trouble sleeping, but he settled down after a while.”

“Oh, the poor little guy. Is he still running a fever?”

“No, not anymore. How’s Bud doing?”

“Hanging in there,” Sarah said, but Phyllis heard the sorrow in her voice. They all knew the end was coming for Sarah’s father, but knowing didn’t make it any easier to take.

“I’m sorry it won’t be much of a Thanksgiving for you, dear.”

“Well, I’m thankful we were able to have this time with him,” Sarah said, “and I’m grateful to you for making that possible. And for helping to keep my dad cheered up.”

Phyllis frowned a little in puzzlement. “What do you mean by that?”

“Mike’s been telling him all about those murder cases you’ve been mixed up in.”

“Oh, good grief. Mike shouldn’t be bothering him with all that nonsense.”

Sarah laughed. “No, no, Dad loves it. He says it sounds just like a TV show.”

It hadn’t
felt
the least bit like a TV show when she was living through those tumultuous times, Phyllis thought. Having friends accused of murder, trying to sort out all the trials and tragedies of human lives, even finding herself and those she loved in danger at times . . . She was glad Bud found Mike’s yarns to be entertaining diversions, but going through those events certainly hadn’t been.

“It’ll be just fine with me if there aren’t any more murders for me to solve,” she told Sarah.

“Amen to that. How are
you
holding up, Phyllis? It’s been a long time since you had to keep up with a little ball of fire like Bobby.”

“Oh, I’m fine,” Phyllis answered without hesitation. It was true that she was a little tired this morning from the sleep she’d missed the night before, but she wasn’t going to tell Sarah that. Sarah didn’t need anything else to worry about. Phyllis went on, “Mike was always on the go when he was little, too, and it doesn’t take long to fall back into the old routines. Having Sam and Carolyn and Eve around has been a big help, too. Sam was actually the one who got Bobby to sleep last night.”

“That was nice of him. Sam’s a good guy.”

“Yes,” Phyllis agreed, “he most certainly is.” She didn’t particularly want to discuss how she felt about Sam with her daughter-in-law, so she went on, “It’s nice and warm today, so I thought I might take Bobby to the park this morning. If that’s all right with you, that is.”

“Oh, sure. Whatever you think is all right is fine with me. I trust you, Phyllis; you know that.”

“Yes, but you’re Bobby’s mother. I thought since we were talking anyway, it wouldn’t hurt to check with you.”

“You go right ahead. Have a good time. Is he around so I can talk to him for a minute?”

“I believe he’s in the living room, watching TV.” Phyllis leaned out the door of the kitchen, where she had answered the phone, and looked along the hallway toward the living room. She heard the sound of the television coming from there, playing cartoons. Cupping her hand over the phone, she called, “Bobby? Your mother wants to talk to you.”

He appeared in the hall and came running toward her, holding up his hands for the phone. “Mama! Mama!” he said.

“Here he is,” Phyllis told Sarah, then handed the cordless phone to her grandson.

“Hi, Mama!” Bobby said breathlessly.

Phyllis went back to the counter, where she had set down her coffee cup when the phone rang. Bobby stood in the door between the kitchen and the hall, talking rapidly as he told Sarah about the TV shows he’d been watching and the games he’d been playing and how Sam was teaching him how to shoot a basketball. Phyllis sipped the still-warm coffee and smiled. Bobby’s enthusiasm for life was contagious.

After a few minutes, the little boy said, “Bye, Mama,” and turned to hold the phone up to Phyllis. “Mama wants to talk to you again, Gran’mama.”

“Thank you, Bobby,” Phyllis said as she took it. “You can go back and watch TV again if you want to.”

“Okay!” He hurried off toward the living room.

Phyllis was laughing a little as she held the phone to her ear again. Sarah chuckled, too, and said, “He does go on, doesn’t he?”

“It’s wonderful having him here. I wish he’d been able to go with you to see his grandfather, but since he couldn’t, I’m glad I was able to help out. And this way he’ll get to go to the Harvest Festival, too, if he feels like it.”

“Oh, that’s right. That’s this weekend, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it’s all day Saturday and Saturday night.”

“What are you going to bake for the contest?”

“I’ve come up with a recipe for pumpkin cheesecake muffins that I think will be good.” Phyllis explained how she would make the muffins, along with the pecan crumble topping she thought would go well on them.

“Oh, that sounds good,” Sarah said. “I’ll have to try them when we get back. Of course, by then, you’ll have won the Harvest Festival cooking contest.”

“Not necessarily,” Phyllis said. “I’m sure there’ll be a lot of delicious entries.” But not one from Carolyn, she thought, which would improve her chances of winning.

She chatted with Sarah for a few more minutes, then hung up after promising to call immediately if Bobby’s ear infection got worse. After finishing her coffee, she called him into the kitchen again and said, “Would you like to go to the park this morning?”

His eyes widened with excitement for a second before he grew serious again and asked, “You think it’s all right? Mama said I had to stay in while I was sick.”

“I talked to her about it, and she thought it was okay since it’s warm here today. You probably shouldn’t play too hard and wear yourself out while we’re there, though.”

“Okay!”

“Go get your jacket. It’s still cool enough that you’ll need it.”

Bobby hurried upstairs, dashing past Sam, who was coming down, on the way. “We’re goin’ to the park!” he told Sam.

Sam walked into the kitchen as Phyllis was rinsing her coffee cup. “Bobby says you’re goin’ to the park.”

“That’s right.” Phyllis put the cup in the dishwasher. “Would you like to come along?”

“That’s a mighty appealin’ invitation, but I was fixin’ to head for the lumberyard. Need some stain for those bookshelves I’m buildin’.”

Phyllis thought about telling him that could wait, but then she restrained herself. The way Sam spent his days was his decision to make, not hers. She enjoyed his company, but she enjoyed Bobby’s company, too.

“I suppose we’ll see you later, then.”

He lifted a hand in farewell. “So long,” he said as he headed for the front of the house. His pickup was parked at the curb. Phyllis’s car took up half of the two-car garage attached to the house, and Carolyn, as the boarder who had lived there the longest, had seniority and claimed the other half of the garage for her car. The broad, tree-shaded street was in a quiet neighborhood a handful of blocks from downtown Weatherford, and there wasn’t much traffic along it. So parking on the street had never been a problem.

Phyllis got her purse and a sweater from the closet just inside the front door and was ready to go when Bobby came downstairs wearing a lightweight jacket. They went into the garage through the kitchen, and as they were getting into the car, Bobby asked, “Are we goin’ to the park where the fest’val’s gonna be?”

“That’s right,” Phyllis told him. There were several city parks scattered around town, but the one that surrounded the little “lake,” which was more like a pond, was the one she liked the best.

“Will the ducks be there?” Mike and Sarah had taken Bobby to the park to feed the ducks on numerous occasions, according to Bobby. He liked to describe how the birds squab-bled and quacked over the bits of stale bread he tossed to them.

“Probably not,” Phyllis told him. “But you never know. The ones who live there during the summer have all gone south for the winter, I imagine, but there could be some others stopping by on their way down from Canada or someplace.”

“I hope so. I like the ducks.”

With the red lights and the heavy traffic on South Main Street and around the junior college, it took them about ten minutes to reach the park. Since school was in session, the place wasn’t very busy during the day. Most of the people who came there were either retirees who found it a good place to walk for exercise or young mothers with preschool-age children. Today when Phyllis pulled into the parking lot, she saw only three vehicles there, and one of them was a white pickup belonging to the city parks department.

A large sign was draped over and tied onto the wooden fence that separated the parking lot from the park itself. The sign announced that the first annual Harvest Festival would be held there that Saturday. Calling something the “first annual” anything was a sign of confidence, Phyllis thought. Even though it was likely that the festival would be a success, no one could know that for certain at this point.

Bobby had the seat belt off and the door open by the time Phyllis could get around to the passenger side of the car. Since he was a little small for his age, Bobby had graduated from a car seat to a booster seat only a year earlier and was still proud of being able to ride in the seat like a big boy. He also liked being able to unfasten his own seat belt but was good about not doing so while the car was moving, unlike some kids. Phyllis was old enough to remember when hardly anyone had worn seat belts, especially children. Even though she thought that in some cases society had overreacted to perceived dangers, this was definitely not one of those cases.

“Remember, don’t run around and play too hard,” she called after Bobby as he trotted around the cabins toward the swing set not far from the lake. Phyllis searched the water but didn’t see any ducks. She hoped Bobby wouldn’t be too disappointed by the lack of fowl.

While Bobby climbed onto one of the swings and began pushing himself back and forth with his feet, Phyllis strolled toward one of the old, historical cabins. They were built in the dogtrot style, two cabins with a common roof that also covered the open area between them, the so-called dogtrot.

She had just paused to look through one of the cabin’s windows at the period furnishings inside when she had heard a man say, loudly and distinctly, “If you try anything like that, I’ll kill you.”

P
hyllis stiffened in surprise at hearing such a threat expressed like that. The man’s voice came from in front of the cabin. Phyllis was torn between the urge to see what was going on and the natural caution that told her to stay right where she was, out of the would-be murderer’s sight.

Caution lost that battle, for one simple, very good reason. Bobby was down there at the swing set, and the man was between him and Phyllis. She had to find out what was going on if some sort of danger might be threatening her grandson.

Anyway, a woman and two small children were walking on the far side of the lake, which was only about fifty yards wide. Phyllis didn’t think anybody would commit murder in plain sight, on a warm, sunny autumn morning like this.

As she stepped around the corner of the cabin, she saw a man standing there. He laughed and said, “No, really, I’ll kill you.” He seemed to be talking to himself, because there was no one else anywhere around except Phyllis. Then she noticed the earphone tucked into his ear and realized he was talking on one of those Bluetooth cell phones, or whatever they were called. As Phyllis watched, the man put some sort of pill in his mouth, then took a drink from the water bottle in his hand. He laughed again, then froze as he noticed her standing there.

Phyllis felt a wave of embarrassment go through her. Even though it was unintentional, she had been eavesdropping on a private conversation and had wound up spying on the man for a few seconds before he realized she was there. He seemed more surprised than upset, though. He gave her a little smile and a friendly nod, then went on talking to someone on the phone.

“You try to steal NorCenTex Development out from under me, Ben, and you’ll regret it; I promise you. I’ll cut your throat, bucko. Hey, we still on for golf next week? . . . Fine, I’ll see you then. . . . Yeah, take it easy, buddy.”

Phyllis told herself not to feel embarrassed. If people were going to wander around apparently talking to themselves like they’d lost their minds, they couldn’t complain if people heard what they were saying.

The man took another drink from the water bottle and then said, “Hi, there. Beautiful day, isn’t it?”