Who Stole Halloween? by Martha Freeman Read Free Book Online

through the front yard toward the porch. There were pumpkins on either side of the walk. The house was brightly lit, and there was a new purple sign:
    H ARVEY H OUSE H EALTH B OUTIQUE
N ATURAL F OODS AND F IBERS , V ITAMINS ,
AND H OMESPUN R EMEDIES
E VERYTHING FOR Y OUR G OOD H EALTH
    â€œWhat’s a homespun remedy?” I asked.
    Dad scratched his head. “Eric Blanco explained the theory to me on the phone,” he said, “but to tell the truth, I don’t get all of it. The gist seems to be that sometimes weaknesses can be repaired through the ‘introduction of offsetting substances.’ ”
    Yasmeen and I looked at each other.
Huh?
    Dad laughed. “Let’s say you want to build muscles. The homespun idea would be that you swallow a tonic made from something strong—like an ox.”
    â€œYou mean drink ox blood?” I shuddered. “I think I’d rather do push-ups.”
    â€œI’m not much for push-ups,” Dad said. “And who knows? Maybe it works.”
    Mr. Blanco met us at the front door of the store. “Welcome, neighbors!” he said, then he looked at Dad. “You here for my eyesight pills?”
    Dad smiled. “Frankly, I’m still skeptical. But we know for sure we’re in the market for pumpkins.”
    â€œWe’ve got plenty of pumpkins,” Mr. Blanco said, “and all of them certified organic. You kids want to pick out a couple of good ones while the old fogies talk?”
    Yasmeen and I went back out into the yard to look at the selection. I am not a big shopper. Right away I noticed a pumpkin that was more or less round and pretty big. It didn’t have any rough brown places or dots, either.
    â€œThis one’s good,” I said.
    Yasmeen examined it. “It has a big green spot,” she said.
    â€œOnly on one side,” I said. “We can cut it out for the nose or something.”
    Yasmeen said she was going to keep looking,which meant picking up every single pumpkin, turning it over and over, then shaking her head and setting it back down.
    â€œDo you think Bub’s right?” I asked her, “about the ransom note?”
    â€œBut what about what Officer Krichels told us?” Yasmeen said. “Maybe Kyle was afraid we would find out that he tortured his cat, and that’s why he called us off.”
    â€œI think the ransom note is more likely. To me it seems like Kyle really liked that cat.”
    Yasmeen had picked up a small pumpkin and now held it under her arm. “What about this? The catnapper was misinformed. He thought Kyle loved his cat enough to pay ransom, but he didn’t really.”
    My head was spinning, which is precisely what I don’t like about detecting—too much brain work. I nodded at the pumpkin Yasmeen was holding. “Is that the one you want?” I asked.
    â€œIt’s perfect,” she said.
    I thought it was way too small, but I didn’t want to encourage more shopping. “You’re absolutely right,” I said.
    A thump on the porch startled me, but it was only Dad. He held up a bag for me to see. “You’ll never believe it,” he said. “Organic marshmallows!”
    â€œAre regular marshmallows
in
organic?” Yasmeen asked.
    â€œGot me,” said Dad. “I’m just telling you what it says on the bag. Why don’t you take these over to Mr. Stone? He’s the one who loves marshmallows, right?”
    â€œServed with hot chocolate,” I said, “and a ghost story.”
    The sky had been clear a minute ago, but now I felt a gust of cold wind and heard a rumble like thunder.
    Dad checked the sky, too. “Weather looks iffy all of a sudden,” he said. “Let’s take your pumpkins in and pay up.”
    Yasmeen followed me into the Harvey house. It was bright and cheery inside, with hand-painted signs, bins of vegetables and grains, shelves of vitamin-type bottles, a rack of