A Ghostly Affair: A cozy mystery series (Death by Chocolate Book 3) (7 page)

Before she knew it paramedics had arrived on scene and were checking her out. One of them gently probed the wound area with expert hands.

“It happened so fast,” she said. “I don’t know what hit me. But there was blood everywhere. Is blood everywhere,” she said shuddering as she looked down at her shirt and hands.

“Head wounds bleed like crazy,” one of the paramedics said. He was an older man, in his mid-forties she’d guess and had a gentle touch along with kind eyes.

“Am I going to be OK,” she said, her voice wobbly.

“Pretty sure you’ll live,” his partner said. “We can take you to ER and get you stitched up, then you’ll be back to normal in no time.”

“Is that really necessary?” she said. “I’ve got to get up early tomorrow. To, to…” a fresh round of tears threatened to spill out “Judge this,” she said, her voice rising suddenly.

“We can clean it up and steri-strip it,” the first paramedic said. “Of course if you have any problems you can always go to ER and get it checked out. You’re probably going to have a headache tomorrow. Extra strength Tylenol might be enough.  Again, if the pain is stronger or you’re having dizzy spells go to ER and get it checked out.”

The younger paramedic looked with doubt at the scene before them. “That’s if they go ahead with the event-“

“But they have to,” Maxine cried. “So many people have put so much into these houses and it means so much to them. Besides it’s a fundraiser!”

“That’s still not worth risking your life for,” the other one said stiffly and then Patrick was by her side.

“So, is she OK to go?”

“As long as you make sure she gets home safely. She certainly can’t drive right now.”

“I’ll take care of her,” Patrick said. As he helped her out to his awaiting jeep she was more than thankful to have him next to her.

“You realize you’re my knight in shining armor,” she said smiling at him as he opened the jeep door and helped her up.

He sighed. “I wish you wouldn’t give me so much work rescuing you.”

She looked at him contritely. “I don’t mean to.”

He gave a sigh and grinned a rueful grin in her direction. “I don’t mean it’s your fault. Just,” he looked straight ahead concentrating on his driving. “I care about you Maxine. I don’t want to see you hurt.”

She blinked back tears. “I’ll try to be more careful. And I have been practicing. I just – I was making a last minute check of our display and the venue tonight. It was only supposed to take one minute.”

“That might really have been bad luck,” he said. “Someone went to a lot of effort to get the guard away from the exhibits for a few minutes. He couldn’t have known you’d have chosen then to check the exhibits. At least –“ he gave her a sideways glance. “You didn’t tell everyone you were going to be here tonight did you?”

She shook her head. “I think I mentioned it to Marcus when we were closing up. He told me I needed to get a life. Or words to that effect,” she said flushing as she remembered his exact words. “
You’re way too young and hot to be spending Saturday night doing homework.”
Close enough she thought.

“I’ll drive you home and make you something to help you sleep,” he said.

“You don’t need to stay,” she said. “Grandma Ellie is upstairs if I need anything.” If she hadn’t gone out with her karate instructor.

The look he sent her made her feel about ten shades hotter. “I don’t mind,” he said gently.

Maxine felt the top of her head gingerly. Ouch! She could feel the goose-egg with her fingers but fortunately she’d been able to hide most of the damage with her hair. She was not about to let a little thing like a bump on her head stop her from judging the Haunted House Contest at the Art Gallery although she did wish their display hadn’t been trashed.

“The carnage,” Grandma Ellie said, shaking her head sadly. “Such needless vandalism.” An artist herself, she knew most of the local Victoria artists, as well as some of the board. Keeping her away from an event like this would have been impossible.

“Patrick was there in minutes and paramedics checked me out,” she said.

“Well, at least you called Patrick this time,” her Grandma said approvingly. “I like that young man. But you should have kept him overnight.”

“Grandma!”

“I see the way he looks at you,” her Grandma Ellie said, not phased in the least. “And it’s not as if I don’t know about the birds and the bees. I have kids you know.”

“I know,” Maxine said feeling her blood pressure rise. “But he was on the job when this happened. He can’t just drop everything and spend the night here. He made sure I was fine before he left.”

“That’s something,” her Grandma said with a small smile. Dressed in a bright red tunic with glasses framed in the same bright red and black leggings her Grandma managed to maintain a sense of style as she approached her eighties. Maxine didn’t know what she’d do without her. Thankfully it wasn’t something she was likely to have to worry about for a long, long time to come. Her grandma was in excellent health.

As they pulled into the Art Gallery parking lot it became immediately evident the parking lot wasn’t deserted today. In fact if she hadn’t had a special pass to park in the employee parking she’d have never managed to find a spot close to the door.

She entered in time to see Rod, the security guard from the previous evening, getting ready to make his rounds.

“I can’t thank you enough for your help last night,” she said heading straight towards him and hugging him.

He gave her a big smile. “It was nothing Miss. I wish I’d been there when you were attacked. I’d have put a stop to it.”

She smiled at him. “I survived. And I’m sure nothing like that will happen again.” She surveyed the crowds milling throughout the gallery. Volunteers were at the entrance collecting admission and directing the visitors. Voting had been closed but people were still circling around looking over all the houses.

Some were seeing them for the first time, some were checking out the competition and some were intent on mischief she thought, catching a glimpse of Maggie Thompson’s boy Blake. At six he had a touch of the devil in him and she couldn’t help thinking he was a little too close to the exhibits for her comfort.

Grandma Ellie spotted him at the same time. “You go get set up at the judge’s table. I think I’ll stop and talk to young Mr. Blake for a moment.”

Maxine breathed a sigh of relief.

As she approached the judge’s table local News Anchor, Angie Kelly approached her, a smile plastered on her face. “Any chance we could have a short interview?”

“I’ll be happy to give you one after,” she replied, “but I need to get ready right now.”

Angie didn’t argue the point but she didn’t seem too pleased by it either Maxine thought sighing. Keeping the press on her side and giving them news bites when asked helped keep her visible and her business in the black so she liked to cooperate with them whenever possible. She also wanted to make sure she didn’t fall flat on her face.

Chef Russ Bertrand from the boutique hotel, ‘Chances’ on the waterfront smiled at her as she approached. “Bad news about your display. Are you ready for today?”

In his early forties she found him easy to work with and enjoyed his sense of humor. She smiled at him now.

“You know what they say. If you can’t stand the heat get out of the kitchen. I’m a tough cookie.”

He smiled ruefully. “That doesn’t mean you should have to fear for your personal safety. Have the police got any leads?”

She shook her head. “I think it was a random attack. I just happened to be coming in when whoever it was wanted to leave.”

“Seemed pretty targeted to me,” he said grimly. “Zak’s company entry was sprayed with a sign saying stay off our land and your display was destroyed.”

She felt dizzy suddenly. Why hadn’t Patrick told her about Zak’s entry? Was it connected to the visit she’d made to Jake Jacob’s protest site? And how far was he willing to go to protect native lands? Far enough to kill? She felt bile rise up in her throat.

Izzy Markaz, director of the children’s art program at the Art Gallery, smiled at her. “Have you seen the entrants for our children’s section?”

“I watched some of them working on their creations,” Maxine said, a feeling of joy at the memory of it, bubbling up in her.

“Then you’ll agree they’re all artists.”

“Oh, yes of course,” Maxine said although she couldn’t help wondering how she was supposed to judge then.

“So we like to give all the participants ribbons, since we believe they’re all artists. We just give a bigger one to the Haunted House which captures the judge’s imagination on the day of the competition.” Izzy smiled brightly. A striking woman of Jamaican descent she had a unique world view. The competition and her way of handling it, a perfect example.

Henri Beauchamp, the owner and chef of a French restaurant that served exquisite food greeted her with a small, precise smile. She wasn’t sure what had made him participate in this event since it was so far out of his comfort zone it might as well have been on another planet.

Henri was a world class chef who judged food to the strictest standards. These standards included taste, preparation and plating. They did not allow for a multitude of different styles and houses which could range from a small cottage stuck on the edge of a bayou as one entry consisted of, to a Gingerbread mansion that could have appeared on the cover of American Design, but for the broken windows, cobwebs, witches and warlocks that made it a Halloween special. She gave him a small smile.

“Mon Dieu,” he said. “What have we involved ourselves in? This, this is a travesty of cooking.” He shook his head. “I should not have allowed myself to be persuaded…Still we must make the best of it.”

The Art Gallery Director was speaking into the microphone, asking for their attention. “Ladies and Gentlemen. Welcome to our Halloween Haunted Houses competition. As you all know we have two divisions. One for children and one for businesses, sponsored by many of our local business owners. The winners get bragging rights as well as prizes.

Half the final score comes from votes, half from the judges scores. Results can and have been skewed in the past by vote buying from admirers or determined patrons and since the whole point of this is to raise money for charity we have no problem with this!”

There was laughter and applause from the assembled crowd. But even as Maxine went through the entries and made her decision as to who the winners were she was aware of a feeling of unease in the air today. A feeling something sinister was afoot.

“You can’t help but wonder what’s going to happen,” next she heard one of the Sheppherd sisters say.

“You’re making too much of it. Zaks’ death was an unfortunate accident and the rest is probably the work of some pranksters,” Rosa’s husband said firmly.

“All I know is we’re locking our door firmly at night and I’m not letting Scotty out in the yard unless I’m there to watch him.”

Maxine’s ears perked up at that. Heather had promised to ask around and see if she could find any other dogs that had been dognapped. But there hadn’t been an opportunity to yesterday. Rose Shepherd sounded as if she’d heard something about dognappings and since she wasn’t a friend of Wendy, it didn’t seem likely to have come from her.

Her attention was brought back to judging when Mr. Melcher, the Art Gallery Director asked if she’d made her final decisions yet.

“I have,” she said smiling at him.

“Good,” he said. “Then if I can have your ballots along with your fellow judges I can tally the votes and announce the winners.

She dropped her results into the box she gave him along with Russ Bertrand and Henri Beauchamp. She smiled at them. “Really, everyone who participates is a winner,” she said.

“Sacrilege,” snapped Henri. “We need standards. Otherwise there is no way of measuring ones’ ability against anothers.”

Russ gave them both a lazy smile. “But is it really about the competition? I think it’s more of a chance for everyone to get together and use their creativity to come up with something they think is good.” He gave a shrug of his shoulders, “often what’s best is in the eye of the beholder.”

Henri shuddered. “This, this is what has led to the destruction of standards. A restaurant can serve anything these days and all the chef has to say is ‘this is my interpretation of how such food is to be prepared. And the result….” He shuddered once more, “some truly horrendous dishes that should never have seen the light of day, let alone hapless diners.”

Maxine laughed. “I know for a fact that the food served in either of your restaurants is amazing and diners will be lucky to enjoy it. And while I believe there are times, Henri,” she said, smiling sweetly at him, “when strict standards are important. There are others,” here she looked at Russ and smiled, “where a more relaxed approach needs to be taken. And this would be one of those times, in my opinion,” she said, smiling to take any sting out of her words.

“I suppose,” Henri said sounding not at all convinced. He scowled at the crowd. “There have been more than enough accidents and upsets lately. It’s bad for business. Have the police done anything about the desecration of your display and AZK developers?”

“They’re looking into it,” she said smoothly. “After all it only happened yesterday.”

“Perhaps but it certainly seems to be connected with AZK Developments. And Jake Jones is right in the center of that. Have they talked to him yet?”

“Protesting isn’t against the law,” she protested feebly. But she had to admit she felt the police should be doing something with Jake Jones.

“Exactly what?” Patrick had growled earlier, his brows drawn together in frustration. “As far as I know the man hasn’t broken any laws. More to the point maybe you should stay away from people when you know it might cause problems.”

She bristled at that. “I took some cold, hungry, people hot coffee and cookies. I was trying to show some humanity.”

“Uh huh,” Patrick said, disbelief dripping from his voice as two spots of bright red on cheeks flared on her cheeks, betraying her anger.

“And the next thing I know, I’m attacked, my shop’s display has been vandalized and AZK’s entry has been spray painted with a warning to ‘stay off our land.’ Short of handing you a signed confession I’d say the evidence is pretty clear.”

“Don’t worry,” Patrick said. “I’ve talked to Mr. Jones myself. But unless there’s evidence I’m unaware of there’s nothing to show him anywhere near the art gallery last night. In fact he was at a fund raiser some of his followers put on.” He surveyed the crowded gallery. “All I’m saying is you need to be careful.”

“That goes without saying,” she said. She smiled at him, “I’m not planning on taking any unnecessary chances. And I’ll be practicing the self-defense moves you gave me every chance I get. So, are we good?”

“For now,” he said. He gave her a teasing smile, “want some help practicing tonight?”

She laughed then and gave him a light kiss on the cheek. “Come over later and I’ll feed you dinner, then we’ll see.”

Something to look forward to she thought now, as Mr. Melcher addressed the assembled crowd. “The judges have made their decisions. In the case of the winning entry I’m happy to say the judges’ results were unanimous.  Forest Designs have proved they are as good at decorating and building haunted houses as they are real.” Laughter and the sounds of handclapping indicated the crowd’s approval.

“However,” he continued, “we all know votes can and do change the results. In this case Dent, Rogers and Hand have won the over-all contest. There was some mild booing. “And in doing so have contributed a healthy amount to the overall funds raised of $20, 172 dollars!” And with that amount there was unrestrained applause and cheers from everyone attending

As for the children’s’ competition the award went to Ryan Groves, a grade five student whose haunted house could’ve graced the cover of Architectural Digest. Even as Maxine handed him the trophy which consisted of a small haunted house she couldn’t help wondering how much had been done by Ryan and how much by his parents. She wasn’t going to say anything though.

She noted that the other contestants didn’t seem to care, happy to get a ribbon. She was more than happy to pin a ribbon on David, Susan, Reggie and the forty something children who had participated. In fact she wanted to grab them all in her arms and hug them. But she was aware that most of them would regard her with concern should she do so. And many of the small boys considered themselves beyond such things as hugs. Except maybe from their moms when no one was watching.