The Pumpkin Muffin Murder by Livia J. Washburn Read Free Book Online Page B

Mrs. Newsom.”
    “You, too,” Phyllis said. She hadn’t meant to linger this long at the school. Carolyn was probably already at the park by now. But there was a bond between teachers, even between active ones and retired ones, and she always enjoyed visiting with people who knew what it was like to stand up there in front of a classroom full of students and try to plant some knowledge in their heads. It was one of the most frustrating but at the same time one of the most rewarding jobs in the world.
    By the time Phyllis reached the park, Carolyn had already unloaded three of the scarecrows from her car and propped them up on bales of hay. Thin wooden stakes went down through the gap between the shirt collar and the back of the overalls and were driven into the hay to hold the stuffed figures upright. Phyllis thought they looked very distinctive and picturesque.
    There were a lot more people here today than there had been the day before. City employees were unloading and setting up portable toilets and sawhorses for crowd control. The sound of hammering filled the air as other employees erected the booths that were being rented by local businesses to promote their goods or services. All the local civic clubs were sponsoring booths, too, that would be used for various arts and crafts displays, games and face painting for the kids, and concession stands. It was definitely a busy place.
    And Logan Powell was right in the middle of it, Phyllis saw as she carried one of the scarecrows from her car across the park. Despite the things Carolyn and the other women had said about him, Logan seemed to be heavily involved, striding around the park and issuing orders, talking on the cell phone tucked into his ear, and popping peppermints. He saw Phyllis and gave her a grin and a wave, then pointed out to one of the workmen where a sign needed to go.
    Phyllis came to a bale of hay with a stake lying on it. She set the scarecrow on the hay, positioned it, and picked up the stake.
    “Careful,” a voice said behind her. “You could kill a guy with that thing.”

Chapter 7

    P hyllis turned her head, looked over her shoulder, and saw Logan grinning at her. She positioned the stake, worked it through a precut slit in the overalls, slid it down the scarecrow’s back, and pushed it into the hay until it was good and solid.
    “There,” she said as she straightened and stepped back. “How does that look?”
    “It looks great,” Logan said. “Very autumnal. I didn’t know you were gonna help with the decorations, Phyllis. You don’t mind if I call you Phyllis, do you?”
    “No, not at all. I guess you could say I’m a late-blooming volunteer, at least in this case.”
    “We appreciate all the help we can get.” That seemed to be a common sentiment. Logan looked around. “Hey, where’s that grandson of yours?”
    “Oh, I left him at home with . . . a friend of mine.” Phyllis wasn’t going to start referring to Sam as her boyfriend when she was talking to other people. It was one thing to come to an understanding between themselves, but quite another not to act her age in public.
    “Well, be sure to bring him to the festival tomorrow. He’ll get a big kick out of it. There’ll be a lot of good food, too. You know there’s gonna be a cooking contest.” Logan smiled again and made a production of licking his lips. “I’ve got a real sweet tooth, I’m afraid.”
    “Yes, I’ve noticed you eating those peppermints.”
    “Yeah, I guess I, ah, picked up the habit when I quit smoking.”
    “It’s a much healthier habit, I would think,” Phyllis said. “I’m entering the contest, you know.”
    Logan’s eyebrows went up. “Really?” He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial tone. “What are you making?”
    Phyllis glanced around, falling into the same conspiratorial attitude. Then she said quietly, “Pumpkin cheesecake muffins. With pecan crumble topping.”
    “Ohhhh,” Logan said. “That sounds delicious. I’ll