The Pumpkin Muffin Murder Page 6

  “Mrs. Newsom,” Dana said, “did you and Carolyn take my keys back to the office at school?”

  Phyllis was taken even more aback by the abrupt question. She glanced past Dana toward the curb at the edge of the street and saw the red SUV parked there.

  “Of course we took them back,” Phyllis said. “Or rather, I did. I gave them to Katherine Felton myself.”

  Dana’s shoulders suddenly sagged, and a look of contrition mixed with exhaustion came over her face. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to sound like I was accusing you of anything. I’m just . . . I don’t know what. . . .”

  A wave of sympathy went through Phyllis. She stepped back, holding the door. “Come in,” she said. “You look like you ought to sit down and take it easy for a minute.”

  “I really don’t have time—”

  “I have some nice herbal tea already brewed. And some pumpkin muffins,” Phyllis said.

  Over her shoulder, Sam added, “They’re really good muffins, too.”

  “I . . . I guess it wouldn’t hurt to . . .”

  Phyllis wanted to find out what had happened with the keys, and she wasn’t sure it was a good idea for Dana to be driving around while she was so upset. She needed to calm down and revitalize a little first. Phyllis reached out, put a hand on the younger woman’s arm, and said, “Come in for a few minutes. Please.”

  “All right.” Dana sighed. “Thank you.”

  Phyllis ushered her into the living room, where they both sat down on the sofa, Dana putting her purse at her feet. Phyllis looked up at Sam and asked, “Could you go get a cup of tea and one of those muffins?”

  “Sure,” he said. “Be glad to.”

  “Don’t go to any trouble,” Dana said.

  “It’s no trouble at all,” Phyllis assured her. As Dana sat back and sighed, Phyllis went on, “What’s this about your car keys? I saw that you came here in your SUV.”

  Dana nodded. “I have a spare key. It doesn’t have the remote on it, of course. So I was able to get in and start it. I’m worried about the others, though. My house keys are on there.”

  Phyllis wasn’t surprised that Dana kept a second set of keys. She did the same herself in case she accidently locked her keys in her car. She asked, “Katherine didn’t give them back to you?”

  “They weren’t in the office,” Dana replied with a shake of her head. “Or at least Katherine couldn’t find them. She said she thought you brought them back, but things got really busy in the office, and she couldn’t be sure.”

  “I did bring them back,” Phyllis said. “Barbara Loomis and Jenna Grantham were even in there when I gave them to Katherine. They can tell you what happened.”

  “They were already gone when I left the school. I haven’t seen them since then.” Dana sighed again. “Now I don’t know whether to be relieved or even more worried. The keys could still be in the office somewhere. To tell you the truth, Katherine’s gotten so absentminded, she could have put them somewhere and forgotten where.” Dana hesitated. “Or she could have set them down on the counter and someone could have walked off with them without her noticing.”

  Phyllis shook her head. “Surely not. They’ll probably turn up in a day or two.”

  “I hope so. It’s a scary feeling, knowing that the keys to your house and car could be floating around out there somewhere, in the hands of God knows who.”

  Sam came back into the living room then, carrying a couple of saucers, one with a teacup on it, the other with a pumpkin muffin. He placed them on the coffee table in front of the sofa where Phyllis and Dana sat, saying, “There you go.”

  Phyllis realized she had neglected to introduce Dana and Sam. “Mrs. Powell, this is my friend Sam Fletcher. Sam, Dana Powell.”

  Sam gave the visitor a polite nod. “I’m pleased to meet you,” he said. “Heard quite a bit about you the past few days, what with this Harvest Festival comin’ up. I understand you’ve been doin’ a lot to make it successful.”

  “I hope so,” Dana said. She picked up the tea and took a sip, and she seemed to calm down a little right before Phyllis’s eyes. “It’s for a good cause, but it’s certainly been a lot of work. I have to go back to the park tonight and make sure that everything is set up like it’s supposed to be. I’ll head over there as soon as I’ve gone home and changed clothes.” She was still wearing the dress she’d worn to school that day.

  “Maybe you should skip it, since you’re tired and upset,” Phyllis suggested. “I’m sure the other volunteers can take care of things.”

  Dana shook her head. “No, I’ll be fine. I know Carolyn’s going over there, and my husband is, too, along with several of my other friends. I can’t let them down.”

  “Have you even had supper yet?”

  Dana reached for the muffin and smiled. “This will tide me over,” she said. She took a bite, chewed it, and let her eyes widen in appreciation. “Oh, that’s so good!”

  “And sweet enough to keep you goin’,” Sam said.

  “That’s exactly what I need.”

  Dana seemed to feel a lot better by the time she finished the muffin and the tea. She thanked Phyllis, who said, “Let me get you another muffin. You can take it with you, in case you run out of steam later tonight and need something else to eat.”

  “Oh, that’s not necessary—”

  “I insist. I can always make plenty more. In fact, I plan to, because they’re going to be my entry in the contest tomorrow.”

  Dana laughed. “I think you have a good chance of winning, then. That muffin was delicious.”

  Phyllis went to the kitchen to get the muffin. Carolyn and Eve were just finishing up with the dishes. “Sam mentioned that was Dana at the door,” Carolyn said. “Is she still here?”

  Phyllis nodded as she wrapped one of the muffins in a paper towel. “Yes, but she’s on her way home to change; then she insists she’s going to the park to help with the last-minute preparations.”

  “That and to keep an eye on her husband,” Carolyn said, keeping her voice quiet enough so that it couldn’t be heard in the living room.

  “What do you mean by that?” Phyllis asked.

  “You saw the way Logan was flirting with you today. I don’t think he meant anything by it, but if he does that with all the women he meets, sometimes he’s bound to be serious about it.”

  Eve looked interested. “What’s this about some man flirting with Phyllis?”

  “It was nothing,” Phyllis insisted. “I’m still convinced that Carolyn was mistaken.”

  Carolyn looked at Eve and said, “I’ll tell you all about it later.” She hung the damp dish towel over its rack. “Right now, though, I have to get to the park myself. I may be over there late, so don’t wait up for me.”

  “I wasn’t planning to, dear,” Eve said.

  Phyllis took the muffin back to the living room and handed it to Dana, who stood up. “Thank you so much,” the younger woman said. “And again, I’m sorry I sounded like I was accusing you of something. I just wanted to make sure that Katherine hadn’t gotten mixed up. Actually, I was sort of hoping that she had, because that would mean you still had my keys.”

  Phyllis shook her head. “No, I’m sorry. I wish I knew what happened to them.”

  “Well, like you said, maybe they’ll turn up.” She went to the door and turned to smile at Phyllis and Sam. “I’ll see you tomorrow at the festival, I hope.”

  “We’ll be there,” Phyllis promised. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

  Chapter 9

  Phyllis was up early the next morning, getting two dozen more muffins in the oven. That would give her plenty for the contest judges, as well as small samples that visitors to the festival could pick up and try once the contest was over.

  True to Carolyn’s word, she had been at the park late the night before. In fact, Phyllis wasn’t even sure when Carolyn had come in. She had been asleep by then.

  Bobby had slept through the night without any problem, and he was
still asleep this morning as Phyllis worked on the muffins. She had just put the first batch in the oven when Sam came into the kitchen, wearing his bathrobe and pajamas and holding a hand over his mouth as he yawned.

  “Just heard the weather forecast on the radio,” he said. “Cool front’s still supposed to come through this mornin’. We’re lookin’ at sunny and dry, with a high in the upper fifties.”

  “Perfect weather, in other words,” Phyllis said as she closed the oven door. “That ought to ensure that there’s a fine turnout for the festival.”

  “I’m sure there will be. There’s signs all over town advertisin’ it.” Sam got a cup out of the cabinet and reached for the coffeepot.

  Carolyn came in a few minutes later. Eve tended to sleep in most mornings, so Phyllis knew they wouldn’t see her for a while. Carolyn helped herself to coffee.

  “Late night?” Phyllis asked. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

  “It was after midnight,” Carolyn said as she sat down at the table. “That’s all right; I don’t sleep as much as I used to, anyway.”

  “That’s one of the perils of gettin’ old,” Sam said. “Sleep gets harder and harder to come by.”

  Carolyn nodded in agreement. “It certainly does. I wasn’t the only volunteer there, though, by any means. In fact, a few people were still there when I left.”

  “What about Dana?” Phyllis asked as she added some more coffee to her own cup to heat up what was already there.

  Carolyn frowned and shook her head. “No, Logan was still there, but Dana left earlier. It looked to me like she was upset.”

  “Oh, no,” Phyllis said. “I hoped that when she left here, she had calmed down. I know it’s upsetting to lose your keys, but . . .” Her voice trailed off as she saw Carolyn shaking her head again. “It wasn’t about the keys?”

  “I don’t know. I couldn’t hear what they were saying. But it looked like they were arguing. They walked out onto that bridge over the drainage ditch leading into the lake, and Logan was waving his hands around and almost shouting. Then Dana stormed off and left a few minutes later.”

  “I hate to hear that.”

  “Mark my words: It was about another woman,” Carolyn said. “Logan just has that look about him.”

  Sam said, “You can tell by lookin’ if a fella’s liable to cheat on his wife?”

  “Of course,” Carolyn answered.

  “That doesn’t seem possible,” Phyllis said.

  “Oh, no? Think about the famous celebrities and politicians who were philanderers. Once the scandals broke, didn’t you feel like you should have known, just by the way they looked and acted in public?”

  “Maybe, but it still seems far-fetched to me,” Phyllis insisted. “And Logan Powell isn’t a celebrity or a politician. He’s a real estate agent.”

  “Who’s a self-styled big shot in the chamber of commerce. That brings him into contact with a lot of professional women, not to mention the ones who are involved in his own business. Did you ever see a woman selling real estate who wasn’t attractive? They’re almost as good-looking as those pharmaceutical reps who go in and out of doctors’ offices all the time!”

  “I suppose Logan probably has some temptations,” Phyllis said. “You can’t be sure that he ever gives in to them, though.”

  “I know what I know,” Carolyn said.

  “It does seem like you ladies have a way of lookin’ right through a fella and seein’ what he’s up to,” Sam said.

  Phyllis frowned at him. “So you agree with Carolyn?”

  “All I’m sayin’ is that fellas who run around on their wives usually get caught at it sooner or later. I don’t know Logan Powell myself, so I couldn’t tell you whether he’s that sort or not.”

  “He is,” Carolyn said. “Take my word for it.”

  Phyllis wasn’t prepared to do that, but at the same time, for all she really knew, her friend was right. And it was none of her business either way. She just hated to see anyone unhappy, and from the sound of it, Dana Powell certainly had been when she left the park the night before.

  There was nothing she could do about it, though, so she turned her attention back to her baking. “There are still muffins left from the batch I made yesterday, and you’re welcome to those,” she told Sam and Carolyn. “Otherwise you’re on your own for breakfast this morning.”

  “A couple of those muffins’ll do me just fine,” Sam said with a smile.

  “I believe I just want coffee,” Carolyn said. “I’ll be sampling a lot of baked goods later on this morning. We’ll be doing the judging at eleven o’clock, and the results will be announced at eleven thirty.”

  When Bobby got up, he was satisfied with a muffin for breakfast, too. Maybe that wasn’t the healthiest breakfast in the world, Phyllis thought—all right, it definitely wasn’t the healthiest breakfast for a growing four-year-old—but for one morning it wouldn’t hurt him. And she was a grandparent, after all. It was her job to spoil her grandson just a little.

  The morning’s preparations went by in a blur. The festival opened at ten o’clock, and the entries for the contest had to be on hand by ten thirty. Phyllis got Bobby and herself dressed in comfortable clothes that would be warm enough in the cool breeze out of the north, then put him and the muffins in the backseat of her car. Carolyn had already left, and Eve was going to ride with Phyllis. Sam intended to take his own pickup. The two of them came out of the house, and Phyllis said, “All right, I believe we’re all ready to go.”

  Sam lifted a hand. “See you at the park.”

  Phyllis and Eve got into the car. “Do you have the canned goods?” Eve asked.

  “Two big bags in the trunk,” Phyllis answered, “and Sam has two more in his pickup. That’s more than we have to donate, but it’s such a good cause.”

  All of them had chipped in to buy the food, which Sam had generously offered to pick up the day before. Carolyn’s story about growing up poor had touched Phyllis, and she wanted to do whatever she could to help make this Thanksgiving season memorable and happy for the families in town who hadn’t been as blessed as she was.

  It was barely ten o’clock, but the parking lots on both sides of the lake, neither of which was very big, were already full, as was the lot at the complex of softball fields next to the park. Cars also lined the sides of the roads leading to the park.

  “We’re going to have to walk quite a way, it looks like,” Eve said. “It’s a good thing I wore comfortable shoes today.”

  Phyllis tried to wear comfortable shoes just about every day, but she knew what Eve meant. She found a place to park her car, and as they all climbed out, she said, “I’m going to trust you to carry the muffins, Bobby, while Mrs. Turner and I carry the bags of canned goods. Can you do that?”

  “Sure, Gran’mama,” the little boy answered. “I’ll be really careful with ’em, too.”

  “I’m sure you will,” Phyllis said as she placed the two plastic containers in Bobby’s outstretched arms. The muffins didn’t weigh much, relatively speaking, and she thought he could handle them all right.

  The bags of canned goods were much heavier, heavy enough so that she and Eve both had tired arms before they reached the booth at the end of the long line of people going into the park. Sawhorses had been set up to funnel visitors through a single entrance on each side of the lake. When each family reached the booth, they handed over their bag, or bags, of canned goods to volunteers, who placed them into the back of a truck parked next to the booth. Then every visitor received a little ink stamp on the back of the hand to prove that he or she had made the appropriate donation.

  Bobby giggled as one of the volunteers stamped the back of his hand. “Look, Gran’mama!” he said as he held it up so that Phyllis could see. “It’s a duck!”

  Indeed it was. The rubber stamp was made in the shape of a duck, like the ones who made the little lake their home for much of the year. There were no ducks swimming around on the water or waddling along the banks to
day, though. Even if any of them had been flying over and considered stopping in their southward migration, the commotion in the park would have scared them off. A local band set up in front of one of the log cabins was playing country music, and the sounds of talk and laughter and happy shouts of children filled the air as well. Phyllis loved events like this. They were so full of life.

  “I can take those muffins now, Bobby,” she offered as they walked between two of the bales of hay with scarecrows propped up on them and started toward the other log cabin, where the cooking contest would take place in the covered dogtrot.

  “I got ’em,” he said proudly. “No problem.”

  Phyllis smiled. “All right.”

  Eve touched her shoulder and said, “I’ll see you later, Phyllis. I’m going to check out the craft displays.”

  “All right.”

  When they reached the cabin, Carolyn was sitting behind a table at the front of the dogtrot with the other four judges. At the back of the dogtrot, under the connecting roof, was one of the hay bales, with a scarecrow leaned against the wall of the cabin. The other judges were the editor of the local newspaper, the owner of an auto dealership who was also the president of the chamber of commerce, a professor from the junior college, and the retired but still much-beloved superintendent of schools, Dolly Williamson. Phyllis knew all of them fairly well, especially Dolly, and they all greeted her with smiles.

  “Whatever you’ve got there, Phyllis, I know it’ll be delicious,” Dolly said.

  “It always is,” the editor agreed. “You’re one of the best contestants we have in these things, Phyllis.” He glanced over at Carolyn. “No offense to my distinguished fellow judge.”

  “Oh, I’m not worried about that,” Carolyn said with a casual wave of her hand. “Phyllis is one of the best bakers I’ve ever seen, no doubt about it.”

  “You can flatter me all you want,” Phyllis said, “but all that counts is right here.” She motioned for Bobby to put the containers of muffins on the table.

  The professor was handling the contest paperwork. “We’ll get these logged in for you, Phyllis.”