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  Perfectly Pumpkin Killer

  A Pies and Pages Cozy Mystery Book Fifteen

  Carolyn Q. Hunter

  Summer Prescott Books Publishing

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Also by Carolyn Q. Hunter

  Author’s Note

  Contact Summer Prescott Books Publishing

  Copyright 2018 Summer Prescott Books

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication nor any of the information herein may be quoted from, nor reproduced, in any form, including but not limited to: printing, scanning, photocopying or any other printed, digital, or audio formats, without prior express written consent of the copyright holder.

  **This book is a work of fiction. Any similarities to persons, living or dead, places of business, or situations past or present, is completely unintentional.

  Prologue

  With shaking hands, clammy with a fresh coating of sweat, Hanson struggled to pull the mirror cabinet door open. Breathing hard, he wrapped his fingers around the clear plastic bottle of gel caps. Bringing it down, he nearly dropped it in the sink. “Gosh dang,” he whispered, sniffing deeply against the pain.

  The veins in his jaw and neck protruded like worms under the skin, pumping blood in all directions through his face, neck, and head. It felt like liquid lava that threatened to run down into his shoulders and back soon if he didn’t do anything about it.

  His meaty hands fumbled with the child safe lid of the bottle. It clicked a few times as he turned it but didn’t open. “Come on,” he pleaded with the medicine. Shaking, he tried again, this time successfully removing the lid and pouring four capsules into his open palm.

  Without bothering to put the lid back on, he set the bottle in the cabinet.

  Slamming the pills into his open mouth, he threw back his head and swallowed them dry, unwilling to grab a cup for water.

  He wanted the pain gone and couldn’t wait another second to get the drugs into his system. He knew he was taking double the recommended dose, but he didn’t care. His liver and digestive system would have to deal with the increased amount of medicine because at that moment, he felt like he might just die if he didn’t do something about the ache.

  Hobbling out of the bathroom, he flopped back onto the bed and buried his face in the pillow, tempted to scream. However, he refrained for fear that it would make things even worse. “Dang that dentist,” he cursed into the pillow.

  As he lay there in a cloud of agony, he remembered that sometimes caffeine was supposed to help push medicine through the system and relieve pain faster. He had no desire to get up out of the bed again but felt like he had to. Forcing himself to stand up, a new wave of agony swept over him along with a pinch in his stomach of related nausea. Clapping a hand over his mouth, he held the sensation at bay.

  Walking into the kitchen, he opened the fridge and looked for that strange green can his adult daughter, who still lived at home with him, always kept stocked in there. He quickly found the tall can and took it out.

  He’d never drank an energy drink before but hoped it had enough caffeine to help take the edge off. Popping open the lid, he took a swig and grimaced. “Ah, that tastes awful,” he groaned. The overly fake sweetness seemed to be mixed with a sour undertone he didn’t care for.

  Still, he threw back his head and chugged half the can.

  “Gah,” he gasped, taking the drink away from his mouth. He’d have much preferred a double shot of coffee but didn’t want to go through the trouble of making it. He wanted relief now, but this drink just tasted awful, and it certainly wasn’t helping his sick stomach.

  He had no idea how his daughter drank this stuff every day before going to work.

  He was about to shrug it off and finish the can off when the phone rang. “What is it now?” he complained, shuffling over to the wireless dock like Frankenstein’s Monster. Picking it up, he answered. “Hello?”

  “Hi, Hanson. It’s Isabelle. I just wanted to let you know what the minutes were from today’s meeting.”

  “Do you have to do this right now?” he grunted. He’d called in sick to work that day, so he wouldn’t have to think about all the tasks on his plate. With the annual charity Halloween Carnival coming up that same weekend the planning committee had their hands full—and he was supposed to be the director.

  He’d simply told his chairwoman, Isabelle, to handle the details of that day’s meeting without him. He told her to make any decisions in his absence. “I trust you,” he said, rubbing his jaw with one hand. The pain seemed to have lightened a tiny bit, but not enough.

  “I know that, but I thought you’d be happy to know we found someone to play Dracula.”

  “Good, good. That’s fine.”

  “Yes, we decided on Craig Penrue for the part,” she announced.

  “What?!” Hanson screamed into the phone. The vibration from his own voice made the pain shoot back up. “Grr,” he said, clenching his teeth.

  “I-I’m sorry, Hanson. I thought you’d be pleased we found someone,” she admitted, surprised by her supervisor's unexpected outburst.

  “Not him, dagnabit. Anyone but him.”

  “But, Hanson, we already okayed it. The paperwork has gone through and we’ve informed him of the situation.”

  “Well, you’ll just have to un-inform him. I won’t have that man in the carnival show.”

  “Do you two have a history?” she wondered.

  “He’s my dentist,” he growled.

  There was a long pause, followed by a subdued snicker.

  “It isn’t funny,” he snapped.

  “I’m sorry, sir.”

  “He’s a joke and should have his license revoked. He messed up my teeth and has done nothing to fix it.”

  “Again, I’m sorry, but the decision has already gone through,” she reiterated. “It would be a whole lot more work to switch to someone else.”

  Hanson scrunched up his nose, feeling worse at every turn. “Fine,” he growled, hanging up the phone. Marching off to the bedroom, he locked himself into total darkness until the medicine kicked in.

  Chapter One

  Having a toothache right around Halloween was one of the worst things that could happen to Bert. After the Christmas season, October was her absolute favorite time of year—and what went hand-in-hand with October? Candy, treats, pumpkin spice, baked goods, all the things that were almost impossible to eat with a potential cavity in her mouth.

  She’d spent the last week grimacing at cold or hot temperatures as well as the slightest hint of sugar in her food. That wasn’t very good for someone who owned and ran a combination pie bakery and bookstore. How was she supposed to make up new dishes if she couldn’t taste them?

  Finally, she caved in and set up an appointment. Whenever she thought of going out and doing something scary for Halloween, the last thing she had in mind was visiting the dentist.

  She’d rather be going to a spooky movie marathon or attending one of the local haunted houses.

  “Well, I’m off to my appointment,” she sighed, pulling on her wool jacket and grabbing her purse off the hook behind the counter.

  “Did you want me to get started on the Vampire Pies for this weekend?” Shiv, Bert’s devoted employee asked as she climbed down the ladder from one of the bookshelves she’d been stocking.

  Adjusting the glow-in-the-dark skelet
on patterned ball cap she wore, Shiv pulled her pitch-black ponytail through the hole in the back to keep it out of the way while working and walked from the bookstore side of the shop and into the reading and dining area.

  “Yeah, you better get a head start on those if we want to have enough for both the charity auction and the staff at the carnival.”

  “I thought so,” she admitted, stepping behind the counter and slipping the apron, branded with the Pies and Pages logo before washing her hands.

  “Thanks,” Bert sighed again, her hands feeling chilly from anxiety. She never let on before, but if there was one thing that made her nervous, and even a little scared, it was visiting the dentist. “Make sure the Halloween specials are all restocked before we open in an hour,” she instructed, glancing at the seasonal display shelf that had some holes in it.

  This year, instead of going with just the classics like Poe, Lovecraft, and Stoker, she decided to go all out with modern horror novels by local authors. It had turned out to be an excellent choice. Each of the authors had been doing book signings and readings throughout the month and the shop had been packed for each event. Attendees sat at the dining tables, ate pie, and listened to the author speak. She’d had to reorder books because they’d sold out, not to mention the massive amount of pie she’d managed to sell.

  She had to admit, some of the books they’d featured that month were things she’d be spooked to try and read herself. One title in question was Downtown Gothic by Malinda Crewe. It was a horrific tale about a dentist who moonlighted as a vampire and enjoyed draining his patients of their blood while they were in the chair and knocked out with drugs.

  Maybe it was just the fact that the story was about a killer dentist, but just the idea of it unsettled Bert. Still, it had been her number one bestseller that month—not to mention a great pairing for her new pie.

  The Vampire Pie was a hit, especially with the younger crowd who attended Malinda’s reading. Maybe it was the gothic, dark look the dish had, but people loved it.

  The crust was a dark chocolate sugar cookie style mixture which was very dark but sparkled when it was done cooking. That was thanks to the crystal sugar instead of the regular kind. The filling was a deep red raspberry mixture with a hint of cinnamon and red-hot pepper powder in it for a special kick. To give it an elegant look, the top crust had a cut out of vampire fangs in the middle, revealing the juicy red innards when displayed.

  It truly was a wonder to behold, and one of Bert’s favorite creations to date. However, she hadn’t had a piece of it all week thanks to the horrible cavity.

  “And make sure we have plenty of Malinda’s book in stock. I’m expecting a huge influx of purchases this weekend.” She knew she was just stalling, putting off the inevitable.

  “I’ve got it all covered,” Shiv announced. “Good luck.” She waved as her boss walked out through the front door of the shop.

  Thankfully, to Bert’s relief, the dentist’s office she’d picked out of a hat seemed very nice. It was built out of an old brick building in the historic Old Market district of downtown Culver’s Hood, Nebraska. She’d mostly chosen it because it was in walking distance from her own shop.

  The waiting area reminded her of an Italian restaurant and she wondered if that’s what the building used to be. There were brick walls with pictures of autumn hung up, leather couches to lounge on, and even a cappuccino machine. (Bert helped herself to a pumpkin spice cappuccino while she waited. The caffeine did not help her anxiety about being there).

  “Excuse me, Mrs. Hannah?” the receptionist called, going over the paperwork Bert had shakily filled out.

  “Yes?” she responded.

  “I’m so sorry, but I can’t read the date listed under your previous dental visit,” she pointed out, tapping the clipboard with the paper on it.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I should try to write better,” Bert noted, standing up and walking over to the reception desk from the couch.

  “It’s no trouble at all, Mrs. Hannah. You’re handwriting is actually very good compared to others.”

  “I’m just a bit nervous about being here, is all.”

  “Totally understandable,” the pretty blonde woman agreed. “Many of our clients have anxiety about the dentist. You’re not alone.”

  “To be honest, I can’t remember the date of my last dentist appointment. It’s been at least four years, so I just guessed,” she said shamefully, totally embarrassed by the admission. She knew it was irresponsible, but she simply hated seeing the dentist.

  “That’s okay. We’ll get you looked at.”

  “Thanks,” she replied. She turned to go sit down when the door to the back area opened. Upon seeing the figure standing there before her she felt her anxiety spike through the roof, making her light-headed.

  Before her was a tall man in a long flowing black cap, his long flowing hair slicked back, and sharp fangs protruding from his mouth.

  “I’m ready for zee next victim,” he said before laughing evilly.

  Chapter Two

  Seeing her own dentist dressed in sharp vampire fangs was hardly the comforting sight she’d hoped for when going back to the chair with him, especially after hearing a very disturbing portion of Malinda’s frightening novel read out loud that same week. Unfortunately, that was exactly what Bert got in that moment.

  She was so startled, in fact, that she let out a scream and dropped the remainder of her pumpkin spice cappuccino on the hardwood floor.

  “Oh, oh, my goodness, I’m so sorry,” the vampire apologized, immediately squatting down to pick up the spilled cup. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “Way to go Doctor Penrue. She just got finished telling me about her dental anxiety and here you come out in that getup.”

  “You’re totally right, Susan. Completely inappropriate. Are you okay, ma’am?” he asked, standing up and putting a hand on Bert’s shoulder.

  The pie shop owner unwittingly began to laugh at the whole situation. The adrenaline imbued her with a giddy sensation. “Actually, if anything, I think you’ve helped me calm down a bit about being here,” she admitted, feeling some of the stress run off her as the spike of fear melted away.

  “I truly am sorry.”

  “He loves Halloween,” the receptionist noted, walking over with a few napkins in hand, kneeling to dab up the spilled liquid.

  The vampire chuckled. “She’s right. I’m just getting into the spirit of things. I just found out this morning that I’m going to be playing Dracula at the Halloween Carnival this weekend.”

  Bert gasped. “The one being held at Spunky’s Amusement Park down by the Missouri River?”

  The dentist smiled so widely it looked like his false fangs might pop out. “That’s the one. Are you going?”

  “I am, in fact. I’m providing pie for the staff of the event as well as donating a few to the charity auction.”

  “That’s awesome. So, you bake pies?” he inquired.

  “I do. I love this spooky time of year and love to contribute wherever I can. I’ve been doing nothing but Halloween promotions over at my shop.”

  The dentist motioned for her to follow him through the door. “What shop do you run?” he asked, making kind small talk as they headed back.

  “Pies and Pages. It’s a pie bakery and bookstore combined.”

  “Oh, yeah,” he exclaimed. “I’ve seen it. That means you’re a professional baker,” he smirked.

  “You could say that. I’ve been making pies since I was a little girl with my mom.”

  “Well, that’s good. It means you get to come see me more often.” He winked at her and the realization of why she was there came sweeping back again. She could feel her cheeks grow cold and pale.

  “Your shop always seems to be a popular spot,” he said, trying to keep the comfortable conversation rolling.

  “We try to keep people interested,” she agreed, her voice a bit shaky again.

  “I guess I’ve been missing out. I shou
ld stop by sometime.” They stepped into a room with a chair and cabinets. A woman that appeared to be in her thirties was waiting there, her thick black curly hair pulled back into a tight bun to keep it out of the way while she worked.

  “This is Wyn, my dental assistant.”

  “How are you today, Mrs. Hannah?” Wyn greeted her with a warm smile.

  “Why don’t you take a seat and we can take a look at what is bothering you?” he suggested, patting the chair.

  Bert’s heart accelerated again as she saw the uncomfortably familiar chair, the trays of silver shining instruments, and the crane-like lighting feature. Her hands turned cold as if they’d just been plunged into a bucket of ice.

  “Are you all right?” the dentist asked, replacing his cape with a lab coat.

  “F-Fine,” she lied, taking a seat against the chilly leather of the chair.

  The doctor sat in the rolling chair near her and reclined the seat down until it was in a prostrate position—something that made Bert feel more vulnerable than ever.

  “Now, what is the trouble?”

  “I think I may have a cavity. I can’t seem to eat or drink anything cold or sweet without it hurting.”

  “And where is the pain?” he asked.

  Opening her mouth, she pointed toward the far back left side of her mouth. “Righ Hee,” she said, her words distorted.

  “Let’s have a quick look and see what we can do for you,” he suggested, grabbing the little mirror and a pointy looking object that made Bert’s stomach turn.

  She slowly closed her eyes, counting down from ten in an attempt to slow her beating heart.

  “So, what kind of bookstore is it?” the dentist asked while the instruments disappeared into her mouth, obviously trying to set her at ease as he worked.