Homicide on All Hallows' Eve: A Cozy Fall Murder Mystery (Claire Andersen Murder for All Seasons Cozy Mystery Series Book 4) by Imogen Plimp

Author:Imogen Plimp [Plimp, Imogen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Murder for All Seasons Publishing
Published: 2022-01-07T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

The moment Gary had finished with my make-over, I nearly bounded out from beneath the infrared hair dryer, scurried down his stairs, and sprinted to the post office. I didn’t even pause to take a gander in Pretty in Pink’s smoky underlit mirrors.

I found Evelyn in the back mail room, sorting packages into oversized plastic bins. The joint was absolutely lavish with Halloween decorations: the local kindergartners’ watercolours of jack-o-lanterns and autumn leaves wallpapered the front windows; cut-outs of ghosts, ghouls, bats, and vampires coated the walls; and strings of cobweb—accented by the occasional black plastic spider—filled every free nook and cranny like silvery filigree. The service counter was crowded with pumpkins and gourds, and a string of blinking orange icicle lights separated customer from clerk.

Evelyn, who was wearing her post office blues—plus a big, pointy witch’s hat—was positively glowing. “This is Halloween! This is Halloween!” she chanted as I entered the mail room. “Claire!” she boomed, dropping a box casually into a bin. “Trick? Or … treeeeeat…?” she intoned with a ghoulish cackle, gesturing toward the giant plastic jack-o-lantern caldron propped up in the corner that was brimming over with party-sized candy bars.

“…Wow…” I said, taking it all in. “You really went all out! But … isn’t it a little … early still?”

“Claire!” Evelyn retorted admonishingly. “Today’s the day before Halloween! Halloween Eve! My favourite holiday! Proper attention must be paid!” She stamped the corner of a smaller, padded package—and gestured once more to the outsized candy bin.

I was quite sure she was on a sugar high… I stood up on tip-toe to peer over the countertop at the wastepaper basket at her feet—sure enough, it was full of candy wrappers.

“May I interest you in a treat?” she offered. “I’ve got Snickers, Reese’s, M&Ms of course, Butterfingers … really everything but Almond Joys…”

I chuckled. “You refuse to buy them, huh?” Soft, shredded coconut, it turns out, is the only food Evelyn won’t eat.

She shrugged. “Naw, I buy the mixed packs—but then I throw all the Almond Joys out… Truth is, I’d burn them if they weren’t covered in plastic wrapper…”

“Mmhmmm,” I said, half-listening. “So, listen…” I sidled up to the service counter and pushed aside a lopsided pumpkin.

“Hey!” she said, suddenly looking over at me. “Nice do, Claire! Très chic...” She had lapsed into Evelyn’s idea of a Parisian accent, which—to the discerning ear—sounds more like half-Irish, half-Jamaican.

I patted shyly at my new hairstyle. “Thanks,” I said—blushing, I’m sure.

“Personally, I like-a da first doo … au naturelle-a… Alas—” in a half-Italian, half-Russian inflection.

“Evelyn!” I yelled, impatient—but stifling a laugh, nevertheless.

“What?”

“Listen… you mentioned to Ellen and me the other night, the night of the Halloween Hootenanny—right after we found the skeleton in my cupboard—that the Galway Inn was haunted.”

She was nodding eagerly. “Mmhmmm—by the Pink Lady.”

“Right! Kay Ridgehorn and Hazel Dumphy just told me all about her… Turns out: she was Tucker Wilson’s first wife—”

“Our skeleton!” Evelyn concluded excitedly—and stamped a package with equaled gusto.

“—And that, after her youngest child died, she died of heartbreak … well, maybe—”

Evelyn scowled.

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