The Pumpkin Muffin Murder (9 page)

“I suppose Logan probably has some temptations,” Phyllis said. “You can’t be sure that he ever gives in to them, though.”

“I know what I know,” Carolyn said.

“It does seem like you ladies have a way of lookin’ right through a fella and seein’ what he’s up to,” Sam said.

Phyllis frowned at him. “So you agree with Carolyn?”

“All I’m sayin’ is that fellas who run around on their wives usually get caught at it sooner or later. I don’t know Logan Powell myself, so I couldn’t tell you whether he’s that sort or not.”

“He is,” Carolyn said. “Take my word for it.”

Phyllis wasn’t prepared to do that, but at the same time, for all she really knew, her friend was right. And it was none of her business either way. She just hated to see anyone unhappy, and from the sound of it, Dana Powell certainly had been when she left the park the night before.

There was nothing she could do about it, though, so she turned her attention back to her baking. “There are still muffins left from the batch I made yesterday, and you’re welcome to those,” she told Sam and Carolyn. “Otherwise you’re on your own for breakfast this morning.”

“A couple of those muffins’ll do me just fine,” Sam said with a smile.

“I believe I just want coffee,” Carolyn said. “I’ll be sampling a lot of baked goods later on this morning. We’ll be doing the judging at eleven o’clock, and the results will be announced at eleven thirty.”

When Bobby got up, he was satisfied with a muffin for breakfast, too. Maybe that wasn’t the healthiest breakfast in the world, Phyllis thought—all right, it definitely wasn’t the healthiest breakfast for a growing four-year-old—but for one morning it wouldn’t hurt him. And she was a grandparent, after all. It was her job to spoil her grandson just a little.

The morning’s preparations went by in a blur. The festival opened at ten o’clock, and the entries for the contest had to be on hand by ten thirty. Phyllis got Bobby and herself dressed in comfortable clothes that would be warm enough in the cool breeze out of the north, then put him and the muffins in the backseat of her car. Carolyn had already left, and Eve was going to ride with Phyllis. Sam intended to take his own pickup. The two of them came out of the house, and Phyllis said, “All right, I believe we’re all ready to go.”

Sam lifted a hand. “See you at the park.”

Phyllis and Eve got into the car. “Do you have the canned goods?” Eve asked.

“Two big bags in the trunk,” Phyllis answered, “and Sam has two more in his pickup. That’s more than we have to donate, but it’s such a good cause.”

All of them had chipped in to buy the food, which Sam had generously offered to pick up the day before. Carolyn’s story about growing up poor had touched Phyllis, and she wanted to do whatever she could to help make this Thanksgiving season memorable and happy for the families in town who hadn’t been as blessed as she was.

It was barely ten o’clock, but the parking lots on both sides of the lake, neither of which was very big, were already full, as was the lot at the complex of softball fields next to the park. Cars also lined the sides of the roads leading to the park.

“We’re going to have to walk quite a way, it looks like,” Eve said. “It’s a good thing I wore comfortable shoes today.”

Phyllis tried to wear comfortable shoes just about every day, but she knew what Eve meant. She found a place to park her car, and as they all climbed out, she said, “I’m going to trust you to carry the muffins, Bobby, while Mrs. Turner and I carry the bags of canned goods. Can you do that?”

“Sure, Gran’mama,” the little boy answered. “I’ll be really careful with ’em, too.”

“I’m sure you will,” Phyllis said as she placed the two plastic containers in Bobby’s outstretched arms. The muffins didn’t weigh much, relatively speaking, and she thought he could handle them all right.

The bags of canned goods were much heavier, heavy enough so that she and Eve both had tired arms before they reached the booth at the end of the long line of people going into the park. Sawhorses had been set up to funnel visitors through a single entrance on each side of the lake. When each family reached the booth, they handed over their bag, or bags, of canned goods to volunteers, who placed them into the back of a truck parked next to the booth. Then every visitor received a little ink stamp on the back of the hand to prove that he or she had made the appropriate donation.

Bobby giggled as one of the volunteers stamped the back of his hand. “Look, Gran’mama!” he said as he held it up so that Phyllis could see. “It’s a duck!”

Indeed it was. The rubber stamp was made in the shape of a duck, like the ones who made the little lake their home for much of the year. There were no ducks swimming around on the water or waddling along the banks today, though. Even if any of them had been flying over and considered stopping in their southward migration, the commotion in the park would have scared them off. A local band set up in front of one of the log cabins was playing country music, and the sounds of talk and laughter and happy shouts of children filled the air as well. Phyllis loved events like this. They were so full of life.

“I can take those muffins now, Bobby,” she offered as they walked between two of the bales of hay with scarecrows propped up on them and started toward the other log cabin, where the cooking contest would take place in the covered dogtrot.

“I got ’em,” he said proudly. “No problem.”

Phyllis smiled. “All right.”

Eve touched her shoulder and said, “I’ll see you later, Phyllis. I’m going to check out the craft displays.”

“All right.”

When they reached the cabin, Carolyn was sitting behind a table at the front of the dogtrot with the other four judges. At the back of the dogtrot, under the connecting roof, was one of the hay bales, with a scarecrow leaned against the wall of the cabin. The other judges were the editor of the local newspaper, the owner of an auto dealership who was also the president of the chamber of commerce, a professor from the junior college, and the retired but still much-beloved superintendent of schools, Dolly Williamson. Phyllis knew all of them fairly well, especially Dolly, and they all greeted her with smiles.

“Whatever you’ve got there, Phyllis, I know it’ll be delicious,” Dolly said.

“It always is,” the editor agreed. “You’re one of the best contestants we have in these things, Phyllis.” He glanced over at Carolyn. “No offense to my distinguished fellow judge.”

“Oh, I’m not worried about that,” Carolyn said with a casual wave of her hand. “Phyllis is one of the best bakers I’ve ever seen, no doubt about it.”

“You can flatter me all you want,” Phyllis said, “but all that counts is right here.” She motioned for Bobby to put the containers of muffins on the table.

The professor was handling the contest paperwork. “We’ll get these logged in for you, Phyllis.”

“Thanks.” Phyllis put her hand on Bobby’s shoulder. “Now, I think I know someone who wants to see what else the festival has to offer.”

“Yeah!” he said as he looked up at her.

They turned to walk around the rest of the park, but Phyllis stopped short when she saw Dana Powell standing there with a frightened look on her face and tears shining in her eyes.

“D
ana, what’s wrong?” Phyllis exclaimed. Then something occurred to her, and she went on. “Oh, no! Someone really did get hold of your keys and broke into your house!”

“What?” Dana said. “No. No, that’s not it. Have you seen Logan?” She looked past Phyllis at the judges seated at the table. “Have any of you seen Logan?”

“Come to think of it, I haven’t,” the president of the chamber of commerce responded. “And I figured he’d be here bright and early this morning.”

The other judges shook their heads, and Phyllis said, “I just got here, but I don’t recall seeing him on the way into the park.”

Carolyn stood up and came around the table. “I’m sure he’s fine, Dana. He’s bound to be around here somewhere. What time did he leave home this morning?”

“That’s just it.” Dana drew in a deep, shaky breath. “He didn’t leave home this morning. He never came home last night.”

Phyllis and Carolyn exchanged a glance. Then Carolyn suggested, “Why don’t we go somewhere a little quieter and talk?”

Phyllis would have liked to take part in that conversation, but she had Bobby to look after, and she didn’t want to drag him along and make him listen to what might well be a pretty frank discussion.

Then she saw Sam ambling toward them in the loose-jointed way that all tall, athletic men have about them, and she said, “Sam, would you mind watching Bobby for a little while?”

Sam came to a halt and tucked his hands into the back pockets of his jeans as he shook his head. “Nope, wouldn’t mind at all,” he said. He grinned down at Bobby. “You want to see part of the festival with me, sport?”

“Sure!” Bobby said. “Can I get my face painted?”

Distracted by concern about the emotional state Dana was in, Phyllis nodded. “That’s fine.”

“Maybe I’ll have ’em paint a daisy on my face,” Sam told Bobby as they walked away.

Phyllis turned back to Carolyn and Dana. Carolyn had a hand on the younger woman’s arm. “Let’s go over there,” she said, pointing with her other hand.

With fallen leaves crunching underfoot, they followed one of the sidewalks to an area where no booths had been set up, creating a small zone of privacy. Phyllis, Carolyn, and Dana stopped under the trees.

“Are you
sure
that Logan didn’t come home last night?” Carolyn asked.

Dana nodded. “Don’t you think I’d know something like that?”

“Well . . . maybe he was home but just didn’t come to bed. He could have slept on the sofa, or in the guest room if you have one.”

“He didn’t,” Dana insisted. “The bed in the guest room hadn’t been touched, and Logan won’t sleep on the sofa. The one time he tried to, after one of our . . . fights . . . it wrecked his back and he couldn’t straighten up for a week. He won’t hardly sit on it now, let alone sleep on it.”

“Maybe he pulled into the garage and slept in his car,” Phyllis said. “Men do really silly things like that sometimes when they’re upset.”

“I suppose it’s possible . . . ,” Dana said, but her tone of voice made it clear she didn’t really believe that was what had happened. “But even if he did, where is he this morning? He would have been here unless . . . unless something had happened to him.”

Carolyn said, “Maybe something came up with his work.”

“That’s right,” Phyllis said. “He was working on some sort of big deal, wasn’t he? NorCenTex Development, or something like that?”

“That was it,” Dana said with a nod. “But anything to do with business could have waited until Monday. I realize that Logan . . . that, well, he put on a show, I guess you’d say, about how much work he was doing to get ready for the festival, but it really was important to him. I believe that.”

“You know him better than anyone else, I suppose,” Carolyn said.

Dana smiled, but there was no humor in the expression. “You’d think so, wouldn’t you? But I’m not so sure. If he decided to . . . sleep somewhere else last night . . . he probably didn’t have much trouble finding a place.”

“What are you saying?”

“You know what I’m saying, Carolyn,” Dana answered heavily. “You must have seen us arguing last night. Logan was having an affair. For all I know, more than one. I’m sure of it.”

“Did he admit it?” Phyllis asked.

“He practically threw it in my face. Told me not to ask questions that I didn’t want to know the answers to. He said that he . . . that he would do whatever it took to make himself happy.” Dana sighed. “I’ve known for years that he was probably fooling around on me. Whoever the woman is now, she’s not the first one. But I stayed with him anyway, because in some ways we’re really well matched. We’re both devoted to our careers, and . . . and Logan was fine with the fact that I can’t have children.”

Carolyn murmured, “I didn’t know that.”

“It’s true. We talked about adopting but never got around to doing anything about it. I had the kids at school, and I guess that . . . filled whatever need I have. I was never that maternal to start with.” She wiped tears away from her eyes. “But all that doesn’t change what I’m really worried about now. Logan should be here, and if he’s not, then something must have happened to him.”

“You checked with the volunteers at the entrance to find out if any of them had seen him?” Phyllis asked. “I’m sure they all know him.”

“Yes, they do. But none of them recalled seeing him this morning.”

“Wait a minute,” Phyllis said. “I know he has a cell phone. I saw him using it. Surely you’ve tried calling it?”

“Of course. I did that the first thing when I realized he hadn’t been home last night. But it goes straight to voice mail, which means the phone is turned off.” Dana’s tone grew a little more animated, though, as she went on. “But that’s a good thought. Don’t all those phones have chips in them now, so the police can trace them and find out where they are?”