Free Death of a Bad Apple by Penny Pike

“Good night, Honey. Thanks again.”
    â€œIt’s my pleasure,” she said warmly. “See you in the morning for breakfast. Hope you aren’t tired of apples. We’re having apple pancakes with a warm apple compote, apple bacon, and apple bread toast.”
    I was so full I could barely muster any enthusiasm, but I knew I’d be hungry again in the morning. “Sounds lovely,” I managed. “See you then.”
    â€œAnd sorry about the door!” she added.
    â€œI’m fine,” I said. With that I headed out of the kitchen, up the stairs, and back to bed, where Jake still slept, undisturbed. As I pulled up the covers and snuggled back into his arms, I couldn’t help wondering why Honey hadn’t told me about the men she’d been talking to outside. What was it I’d heard?
Rightunder our noses? Ruin our festival? Run out of town
? What had she meant? And who had she been talking to?
    I closed my eyes. They popped open again as I had a last thought. While I was wondering what Honey Smith had really been up to outside, maybe she was wondering what I was really doing behind that front door.
    There was no way I was going to sleep soundly the rest of the night.
    â€¢Â Â Â â€¢Â Â Â â€¢
    â€œRuin . . . run . . . right under our noses . . . ruin . . . run . . . right under our—”
    â€œDarcy!” I heard a voice call from the shadows. I tried to find the source, but it was too dark.
    â€œDarcy!” came the voice again.
    I shot up in bed like a corpse coming back from the dead.
    â€œWhat. . . .what?” I blinked and rubbed my bed hair. Disoriented, I looked around the strange room, softly lit by the morning sun peeking through the lacy curtains. I turned to see Jake lying next to me. He was frowning.
    â€œOh God, was I snoring?” I asked, blushing at the thought.
    â€œNo, you were talking in your sleep. I tried to wake you a couple of times, but you were in deep. Sorry if I startled you.”
    I closed my eyes and instantly recalled the nightmare I was having.
    â€œWhat did I say?”
    â€œSomething like ‘run, run.’ Was someone chasing you in your dream?”
    I sighed. “I guess. I can’t really remember. Three or four people, holding lit torches . . .” I shivered at the thought and turned to Jake again. “What do you think it means?”
    He shrugged.
    â€œDon’t you analyze your dreams when you wake up?” I asked, surprised. “I thought everyone looked for clues to their subconscious wishes and fears.”
    â€œWell, mine are mostly about food and sex. Pretty clear.”
    I elbowed him.
    â€œBut I think maybe the fire at Red’s last night might explain yours.”
    â€œThe lit torches?” I said. “You’re probably right. As for the three figures, I think I can explain that.” I told him about hearing the mostly unintelligible voices from my window during the night, then going downstairs and trying to listen in on the conversation and getting hit in the head by the door when I got caught by Honey. I left out the part about the apple crisp, but I was sure it had contributed to my restless dream as well.
    â€œSo you don’t know who the other guys were?” Jake asked, rolling out of bed. He slipped on his plaid boxers and stood up.
    I looked at the ornate clock on the nightstand. It was a little after seven. I reached for my robe and pulled it on. “No. All I know is, it looked like theywere having an argument. But the men were gone by the time I got downstairs.”
    â€œWell, I’m going to jump in the shower. We’re supposed to be at the fairgrounds by nine to set up. The festival starts at ten.”
    â€œDon’t use all the hot water,” I called after him. With my robe tucked tightly around me to fend off the chill, I moved to the window and looked