Perfectly Pumpkin Killer Read online

  With an open mouth that made all her hard-sounding letters disappear, she attempted to tell him how she sold any and all kinds of books but particularly enjoyed having local authors come in and do readings and book signings. It was weekly events that truly brought in the crowds—as well as the pie, of course.

  Thankfully, the dentist had an adept ear for interpreting “open mouth” language. “Ah, that sounds like something right up my alley. I enjoy reading obscure or lesser known books.”

  “Doctor Penrue even has a friend who is a writer. Right, doctor?” the dental assistant added, smiling behind her face mask.

  He chuckled. “Yes, she’s a good friend. We’ve known each other since high school. I don’t know if you’d know who she is though.”

  “Try me,” Bert said.

  “Malinda Crewe is her name.”

  Bert’s eyes widened excitedly. “She’s my best-selling author this month. We just did a book signing for her new book this last week,” she announced as the tools left her mouth.

  “Really?” he wondered interestedly. “I didn’t even know she had a new book out. She never told me.”

  “Well, she does, and it is very popular. We still have signed copies for sale at the store.”

  “In that case, I’ll have to make a trip over to your shop after work today, I think,” he beamed enthusiastically. “And I’ll have to text Malinda and scold her for not telling me about her new book.”

  “The doctor is trying his hand at writing himself,” Wyn added, her eyes twinkling at the dentist.

  Bert could tell right away that this young professional had a soft spot for her employer. Could it be that they were romantically involved? Bert knew it was none of her business, but being the curious natured woman that she was, she couldn’t help but at least wonder a little.

  “That’s right. Maybe someday I’ll be speaking at your bookshop,” he joked.

  “Maybe,” Bert agreed, glad that the dentist was so good with his bedside manner to put her completely at ease.

  “Well, Mrs. Hannah, it looks like you do have a cavity in that back tooth,” he finally revealed.

  Any ease Bert had left completely vanished like a wisp of smoke at this news. “I-I do?” she asked, her mouth drying out.

  “Yes, unfortunately, and I’d recommend taking care of it right away.” He rolled over to the computer on the counter nearby. “Luckily, I think I have an opening in the next hour if that works for you. Someone canceled last minute.”

  Bert nodded vigorously. “Let’s get it over with as soon as possible.”

  “Good. I’ll have my assistant take some x-rays and then we can work on getting started.”

  “Doctor Penrue?” the receptionist’s head poked around the corner and interrupting. “There is a patient on the phone who is insisting they speak to you.”

  “Can’t you see I’m with a patient?” he shot back, none too amused to be interrupted.

  Bert couldn’t help but wonder if this had occurred before.

  “My apologies, Doctor. They simply refuse to speak to me. He claims if he doesn’t get to speak to you and you alone, he’s going to call his lawyer and sue for malpractice.”

  Wyn looked pale at the suggestion of legal action against her place of work. The dentist, on the other hand, appeared completely unphased. “Tell the patient they’ll have to wait. I’m currently with someone,” he motioned to Bert, “and I want to help get her work done so she can be on her way.”

  Bert had to admit, his attention to detail and his caring attitude set him apart from all other dentists she’d seen in her life. If things continued along this path, she may just keep him permanently as her dentist. Perhaps, she may even finally not be so scared to make regular visits anymore.

  “This is the fifth time he’s called, sir,” the receptionist argued, a look of exasperation coming over her. It was clear she was at her wits end with the patient on the phone. Whoever it was might be harassing her.

  Bert had worked in a call center for a mail order catalog, back when that was still a thing, in the past and knew just how nasty customers could be—especially if you were a woman. She had great sympathy for the receptionist.

  “I know. Let me handle this,” Wyn suggested, standing up. “I may have an idea who it is and how to deal with them.”

  “The patient specifically asked for the doctor,” the receptionist reiterated.

  “Let’s just try it, okay?” the dentist insisted.

  The receptionist bit her lower lip, reluctant to agree. “Okay, if you say so.”

  “Thanks, Wyn,” the dentist noted, nodding to his assistant.

  The two women left for the front of the office while the dentist, vampire teeth still in, turned to Bert. “Well, how about I take those x-rays?”

  She gave a weak smile, just wanting to get this whole thing over and done with.

  Chapter Three

  Bert eagerly grabbed the pain reliever bottle from her purse behind the counter and shook out two pills. Popping them into her mouth, she took a large swig of coffee to wash them down.

  After finishing up at the dentist, she’d gone home to her small apartment above Pies and Pages to rest. That was one thing about the numbing drugs for doing fillings, they made her sick and woozy for days afterward.

  She had no desire to try and eat or drink anything at that moment and ended up passing out for a few hours.

  However, as the end of Shiv’s shift came up, Bert had to drag herself out of bed, fix her mess of hair, and get downstairs to manage the shop for the evening. Her tooth, not to mention her jaw, were killing her. It seemed as if each time she moved a new electrical shock of pain would dance from her face down her neck and into her shoulders.

  It was in between eager customers that she took a moment to bend down and grab the medicine and slugged it down. Bert had gotten in the habit years ago when she was still in college and started experiencing tension headaches, of downing coffee with her meds to ward off the ache.

  She’d tried the kind of aspirin that came with caffeine already in it, but it never seemed to work as well as a strong cup of coffee or two. Putting her best smile on, she stood upright to greet the next customer in line.

  Much to her surprise, she found herself facing her best friend, Carla.

  “Hi, Bert.”

  “Carla, what are you doing here?”

  “Oh, I closed up my shop early and decided to pop over here for a minute,” she noted, shuffling around the counter and coming in back.

  “What are you doing?” Bert wondered.

  “I’ve come to help you run the shop this evening.”

  Bert’s jaw dropped. “Huh? Why would you do that?”

  Carla was taking Shiv’s apron off the hook on the brick wall and sliding it on. “Oh, a little bird came over and told me you were having a hard day, so I decided—since my shop was pretty slow this evening—that I could do my best friend a favor and help out here.”

  “Oh, Carla, you don’t need to do that,” Bert argued, chocking back the first sign of tears. “You shouldn’t close your own business early to come help me.”

  “Ah, fiddlesticks. Christmas in July doesn’t really get kicking until November first,” she admitted, referring to her year-round holiday shop. It was generally very populated during the summer tourist months, and of course during the Thanksgiving and Christmas season.

  Bert swallowed hard, realizing just how overwhelmed she’d been feeling that entire day. Between the stress of visiting the dentist for the first time in years accompanied by the actual physical upset from the procedure, she’d just about worn herself to the bone. “Thank you, Carla. This means a lot.”

  “What are friends for? Besides, you can pay me with a slice of that delicious Vampire Pie. Honestly, I think it may be the best dish you’ve ever come up with,” she pointed out, heading over to the empty coffee maker and discarding the old grounds in order to start a fresh pot.

  If there was one thing people liked wit
h their slice of pie and book, it was coffee.

  “You have a deal,” Bert agreed, wiping away the one tear that had managed to squeeze out past her defenses.

  The two women worked side by side while the CD of Greatest Vintage Halloween Hits played through the store. Customers perused the horror novels on special, but there were also plenty of ladies coming in to pick up the latest Halloween themed cozy mystery or paranormal romance novel as well.

  Mini jack-o’-lanterns glowed from the shelves with fiendish smiles, accompanied by paper bats and flickering electric candles, inviting customers to get into the spirit of things. As the end of the evening neared, the Vampire Pie was nearly all gone and most of the other pies as well.

  Thankfully, things got quiet around eight-thirty and the women were able to breathe a sigh of relief.

  “So, have you read Malinda Crewe's novel yet?” Carla asked, wiping down the tables with a rag.

  “No way,” Bert said flat out, sitting down in one of the chairs. There was a deep ache in her muscles as if they were all tied in knots.

  “Why not?” her friend inquired incredulously, acting as if she’d just committed a crime.

  “Hearing her read it out loud the other night was enough for me,” she admitted with a shrug.

  “I wish I could have been here. I thought that book was just amazing. For the life of me, I couldn’t put it down.” Carla, despite being an adamant fan of the new book, hadn’t been able to make the live reading and signing with the author due to volunteering at the elementary school’s trunk or treat. Needless to say, she’d been very disappointed.

  “It sounds stressful to me. I can take goofy alien invasions in my b-sci-fi movies, but I never could do any of that stuff about killers or torture.”

  “Oh, it’s not torture or anything. It’s just your classic monster tale—like Drac or Frankie, but with a dentist instead.”

  “That’s the part I don’t like,” Bert groaned.

  Carla chuckled quietly. “Oh, yeah. Your fear of dentists.”

  “And I had to go visit one today.”

  “I know. That’s why I’m here,” she beamed.

  “Thankfully, he was nice, but he was dressed up as a vampire when I showed up.”

  Carla’s mouth opened wide in an O shape. “You’re kidding. Did he read Malinda’s book, too?”

  Bert waved her friend off. “No, nothing like that. He’s just playing Dracula at the Halloween Carnival this weekend.”

  “Oh, he is? That’s sort of fun.”

  “Yeah, he seemed pretty excited about it. Speaking of which, we almost totally sold out of Vampire Pie despite making extra. I better get a head start on those ones for the carnival or I’ll be in trouble.” She stood up and dutifully headed back behind the counter to start on the dark chocolate crust.

  “You know, I sure wish I could have been here the other night. I would love for her to have signed my copy of the book.”

  “I still have a couple signed copies on the shelf,” Bert informed her, pointing to the spooky book display.

  “Oh, I know that, but isn’t the same. I want to be there when she signs it. Have her personalize it, you know?”

  “I understand,” Bert agreed, sprinkling flour on the counter so it would be ready to roll out the dough. “Hey, I just had an idea.”

  “What’s that?” Carla wondered as she walked behind the counter and rinsed the rag out, hanging it to dry near the sink.

  “My dentist. He knows her. Malinda, I mean.”

  “He does?” Carla’s eyes bugged out with eager surprise.

  “I’m sure we could arrange for you to meet her.”

  She clasped her hands. “That would be amazing.”

  The bell on the front door jangled while a late customer walked in. Bert instantly recognized the man in the long cape with fangs. “Doctor Penrue. Speak of the devil,” she exclaimed.

  “I said I’d stop by sometime this evening, didn’t I?”

  “Yes, I just thought it would be earlier after the office closed.”

  “No, I got stuck there late tonight. I had some matters to deal with.”

  Bert wondered if it had anything to do with the earlier phone call that had seemed so urgent.

  “Well, I was just telling my friend, Carla, about how you’re friends with Malinda.”

  “Yes, and I came over specially to buy her new book,” he said proudly, looking around the room for any sign of the novel.

  “It’s on that shelf there,” Carla point out for him.

  “Ah, thank you.”

  “My friend was hoping she could meet up with Malinda at some point to have her sign her book personally,” Bert noted, hoping her dentist would be able to help.

  “It would be so great if I could get her to sign it,” Carla enthuses. “If you’re friends with her, maybe you could set it up?”

  The dentist chuckled. “It could probably be arranged, but I can’t make any promises. Malinda is a bit of a hotshot nowadays. I’ve had a lot of trouble getting in contact with her myself, you know.” He picked up the book from the shelf with a big smile.

  “That’s funny because I’ve not had trouble communicating with her,” Bert wondered out loud. She supposed it was because talking to a bookstore owner was part of work and talking to an old friend was an unnecessary pleasure. Sometimes people were too busy for friends.

  “Well, her new book is really a great one,” Carla said. “And when you buy it here, you get a free Pies and Pages bookmark,” she squeaked excitedly, selling Bert’s business for her. She picked up an orange and black bookmark from the stack and handed it to him.

  “Very nice,” he agreed, taking it and sliding it into the pages. “I’m sure the book is great. Malinda is pretty talented,” he admitted, turning the paper back over to read the blurb on the back. As his eyes darted back and forth along the text, his demeanor faded. Lines appeared around his eyes and a frown came upon his mouth. “What in the—” he sputtered to himself.

  “Are you okay Doctor Penrue?”

  “Uh, fine, fine,” he grunted, obviously lying. He marched right over to the counter. “How much?”

  “Twelve ninety-nine.”

  Digging out a ten and five he slapped them down on the counter. “Keep the change,” he insisted before charging out the door, his grip tightening along the book’s spine.

  Carla watched him go. “What was that about?”

  “I have no idea,” Bert admitted.

  “Maybe he didn’t like the fact that the book is about a murderous dentist?”

  Bert twisted her lips to one side. “That could very well be true. Maybe he thinks his friend is writing about him specifically?”

  “Hey, if I made it into a book, I’d be happy,” Carla said.

  “Even if the writer made you evil?”

  Her friend hesitated. “Maybe not.”

  Bert agreed.

  Chapter Four

  Spunky’s Amusement Park was a colorful splash of oranges, purples, and reds along the Missouri River. The flashing colors reflected on the waterfront, creating a mirror image of the park in murky images, not unlike an oil painting. Gigantic round balloons painted like jack-o’-lanterns floated high above the park, tethered to the wrought iron exterior fence that bordered the property. Each one had its own light inside of it, granting a spooky yet festive glow to the whole of the carnival.

  The spirit of the season hardly stopped at the fences, of course. The whole place was decked out for the occasion. Where regular game booths usually sat, enticing customers to gamble their money away on darts, ball throws, and toy gun shootouts were now all sorts of new stands in the theme of the event.

  The pumpkin toss involved throwing a bean bag pumpkin into the mouth of another large pumpkin. Bat fishing had kids trying to toss in their line to bring out a cute vampire bat as a prize. The roulette prize wheel had all sorts of candies, plastic toys, and other seasonal items listed (as well as spaces where the contestant won nothing).
r />   The major difference this time around was that all the proceeds from the games and concessions were going to charity. It had been Spunky’s idea himself. His own son had autism, so Spunky had decided to go before the city council and ask if they would help put on a charitable event at the park for Halloween—his son’s favorite, and yet hardest, holiday.

  All proceeds would go to the study of autism and toward benefiting those in the community.

  The council had whole-heartedly agreed, and the plan was set in motion.

  As always, Bert and Carla’s church congregation got on the bandwagon to help in any way they could. Many of the congregants were running the booths or concessions. Others volunteered to help decorate. Many of the teens volunteered to be actors in the Floating Haunted House, an old riverboat that had been turned into a festive haunt that was appropriate for all ages.

  They weren’t the only ones, either. Many other local churches and organizations stepped up. It had become quite the city affair, and it seemed as if everyone was in on it.

  Bert was no different. She was busy as a bee late that Saturday evening, carrying armloads of pies through the entrance of the gate and to the miniature playhouse within the amusement park grounds. Already, kids in costumes were running back and forth like little ants eager for some sugar.

  Bert couldn’t help but admire the various creative costumes that were present. She’d just arrived back at her car to grab the third load of pies when a voice boomed behind her. “Here, let me help you with those.”

  Turning around, she smiled at her boyfriend, trying not to laugh.

  “Oh, go on ahead and laugh it up. I know I look ridiculous, but isn’t that the point,” he asserted, putting his balled fists on his hips and standing up proudly. He wore a silver jumpsuit that matched the one Bert was wearing. This was their first year doing a couple’s costume and Bert had persuaded him to go as the alien couple from Plan 9 From Outer Space. Honestly, with how bulky her detective boyfriend was, she knew they probably would have been better off going as the two zombies from the movie rather than the aliens, but the woman’s costume in the film was a bit too revealing for Bert’s comfort.