it.
“And I vote that you be the one to do it. And be back by three-thirty,” Libby added. “Don’t forget, we have to be serving by five-thirty at the Haunted House.”
“I haven’t forgotten,” Bernie said. “I don’t think this talk will take that long.”
At least she hoped it wouldn’t. She was going to talk to Felicity Huffer, who used to work as a proctor at the Peabody School. Bernie had spoken to Felicity’s daughter earlier this morning and been told that Felicity lived in the Pine Bough Manor, a residential home for older adults. Now there was a euphemism if ever Bernie had heard one.
“I told her she could stay with me,” Felicity’s daughter had said. “But she doesn’t want to. I’m sure she’ll be happy you’re coming. She loves talking to people, and I can’t get up there until later in the evening. In fact, I’ll call her now and make sure it’s all right. Sometimes she gets a little grumpy.”
“Don’t we all,” her dad had said when Bernie told him what Felicity’s daughter had said. “Of course, if I remember correctly, she always was a bit irascible,” he’d added.
“Maybe you should go,” Bernie had told him. “After all, you’re the one that suggested this.”
Her dad had waved the suggestion away. “She always liked your mom better than me. In fact, she never liked me at all.”
Bernie was wondering why Felicity Huffer hadn’tliked her dad when her sister put down her rolling pin and wiped her hands off on her flannel shirt.
“So,” Libby asked her sister, “are we really going to do this?”
“Investigate Amethyst’s death?”
“I’m not talking about baking cookies.”
“Yes, we are.”
“Why?”
“I figure Dad’s done enough for us. Maybe we should return the favor.”
“I guess you’re right,” Libby said doubtfully as she tugged at her bra.
“I know I’m right, and your sisters are still lopsided,” Bernie informed her.
Libby tugged on her left bra strap a little more. “Better?” she asked Bernie.
Bernie nodded. “You need new bras. In fact, you need new everything.”
“After Halloween,” Libby said. “When I have a little more free time.”
“Why do you hate to shop?”
“Why do you like to shop?” Libby countered, and she turned back to her pumpkin pies.
On the way out, Bernie stopped and had Amber pack her up a box of pumpkin chocolate chip cookies for Felicity.
“You know,” Amber said as she taped the box shut, “you ought to make sure someone isn’t doing a remake of Michael Myers’s Halloween at the Haunted House. Maybe there’s this homicidal maniac hiding in one of the rooms, with a chain saw, just waiting for you to arrive. You should keep your cell phone out just in case.”
This, Bernie thought, is what happens when someone watches too many horror movies.
“If we get diced up, you’ll be the first one I’ll call,”Bernie promised as Amber handed her the box full of cookies. “In fact, I’ll leave my cell on so you can hear every bloodcurdling scream. Now go wait on Mrs. Stein.” And with that, Bernie walked out the door.
She stood in the street for a moment and took a deep breath. It was one of those glorious late fall mornings. The air smelled spicy—like cinnamon and cloves. The sun was still warm, and the leaves remaining on the trees were crimson and gold. Most of the houses on the other side of the street had decorations in their windows: there were witches and goblins and black cats. There were tombstones in the yards. There were jack-o’-lanterns on people’s porches. In a week the street would be full of parents and children in costume knocking on doors and yelling, “Trick or treat!”
Halloween had been her favorite holiday when she was little. She still remembered her best costume ever. Her mom had made it, and she thought it was the prettiest costume she’d ever seen. It was a blue taffeta dress with a sparkly sash and pale blue wings and a wand. And she’d had a
Learning to Kill: Stories