Free Death by Pumpkin Spice by Alex Erickson

from me shoving his stupid mask somewhere where he wouldn’t be able to reach it again.
    â€œRobert. You need to leave me alone. I have no intention of ever seeing your lying face again. You make me sick!”
    â€œYou can’t talk to me like that,” he said. I heard anger in his voice. Maybe he was finally getting it.
    â€œI can,” I said. “And I will.” This time, when I pushed past him, he let me go.
    Of all the nerve. I almost wished Will would have been there to see that. I was pretty sure Robert would have received more than a bruised ego if he had been. Heck, even Paul would have put him in his place for talking to me like that. And if Vicki had been there . . . We might have had to deal with two bodies instead of one!
    I returned to the ballroom with the intent of going over to my friends to dump on Robert a bit, when I saw an older, frantic-looking Breakfast at Tiffany’s Audrey Hepburn enter from across the room. It took me a moment to realize who it was—her hair was a different color and she was wearing a new costume—but after a few seconds, I realized I was looking at Margaret Yarborough. She was looking wildly around the room for someone.
    I hurried over before she could get lost in the crowd.
    â€œMargaret?” I said. “I’m Kristina Hancock. Officer Paul Dalton sent me to find you.”
    She latched on to me like I was her saving grace. Perfectly manicured hands circled my wrists hard enough to hurt. “Where is he?” she asked. “I have a crime to report.”
    I thought she was a little late to the party but didn’t call her on it. “We know about the body already.”
    A flash of annoyance passed over her face. “Not that.” She waved a hand in front of her face as if brushing away a fly. “Someone has stolen my jewelry!” She started scanning the crowd again, presumably for Paul.
    â€œHe’ll be back shortly.” I hope. I didn’t like the fact Margaret was so dismissive over Jessica’s murder. I mean, a life is far more valuable than jewelry, no matter the price. “What makes you think it has been stolen?”
    She gave me a flat look. “Really, dear? How else? I went in to change my costume and when I went to put on the jewelry I’d purchased to go with it, it was gone.”
    â€œI see.” That still didn’t quite tell me everything, though. “Why did you get changed?”
    She huffed, letting her annoyance show. “Because there was a murder, dear, in case you’ve forgotten.”
    â€œI haven’t.” My own annoyance was starting to rear its ugly head.
    Margaret sighed and rolled her eyes as if tired of explaining things to me. “I couldn’t be caught dead wearing the same thing as someone who was murdered! It would be unseemly, and in dreadfully bad taste.”
    Or was it something more? Did you get pumpkin guts on your once-white dress and couldn’t wear it any longer? I found it hard to believe that Margaret Yarborough would kill Jessica Fairweather, but then again, I didn’t know either woman. As far as I knew, they had a deep, resentful relationship that stretched back for years.
    â€œDo you know anyone who would have a reason to kill Ms. Fairweather?” I asked, figuring I’d go for broke while I had Margaret there. Paul would want to ask the same questions of her, but I thought I could save him some time.
    â€œMaybe she saw the thief who stole my jewelry,” she said. “He could have killed her so she wouldn’t turn him in.”
    I supposed it was plausible, but it didn’t quite fit. If Jessica caught the killer stealing jewelry out of what I presumed was Margaret’s bedroom, wouldn’t her body have been found there instead? I doubted she kept her expensive jewelry in the scarecrow and pumpkin room, not unless she thought no one would think to look there.
    I didn’t know the layout of the