Page 34 of Pumpkin Patch Peril
For the next hour, they brainstormed approaches to their remaining suspects, trying to balance investigation with safety.
“I could attend one of Laura Jenkins’s bee conservation workshops,” Helen suggested. “Natural cover story—research for the garden club.”
“And I could legitimately ask Doris Cumberland about her pie recipes for the senior center cookbook project,” Ida added, warming to the idea.
Helen returned to her surveillance post, systematically scanning the street. “That white van by the corner market wasn’t there when we arrived. Could be nothing, could be our watchers adapting.”
The frustration was building like steam in a pressure cooker.
“I hate feeling watched,” Ruth muttered.
“I hate having suspects who seem physically incapable of the crime,” Mona added.
“I hate second-guessing my mathematics,” Ida said, reviewing her calculations again.
“And I hate not knowing who’s out there,” Helen concluded from the window.
As the afternoon wore on, their speculation grew increasingly wild.
“Maybe it’s one of our suspects,” Helen suggested. “Laura or Doris, monitoring our investigation.”
“Or someone we haven’t considered yet,” Ida mused.
Ruth looked up with sudden concern. “Or maybe it’s personal. I’ve dated some pretty sketchy guys over the years.”
“Ruth!” Helen exclaimed.
“What? There’s Derek, who turned out to be married to three different women. And Brad, who might have been running an illegal turtle racing operation. And don’t get me started on Mike, who claimed he was a landscape architect, but I’m pretty sure he was actually smuggling garden gnomes across state lines.”
“Garden gnome smuggling?” Mona asked incredulously.
“It’s a thing! They have different regulations in different states. Mike was very passionate about gnome freedom.”
Ida looked up from her charts. “Actually, personal connections would explain the surveillance timing better than random criminal interest.”
“Or,” Helen said thoughtfully, “maybe it’s connected to Ida’s CIA background. Some old case resurfacing.”
“My CIA work was decades ago,” Ida protested. “Mostly statistical analysis and pattern recognition. Nothing that should attract current attention.”
“Unless someone’s worried about exactly those skills,” Helen pointed out. “Your ability to find patterns others miss.”
“Like what? The secret conspiracy behind competitive pumpkin growing?” Ruth asked sarcastically.
“Stranger things have happened,” Mona said. “Remember the ferret case.”
“The ferret was living in the church organ,” Ida reminded her. “That’s not exactly international espionage.”
“No, but it taught us that innocent situations can hide complicated truths,” Mona replied.
By late afternoon, they’d exhausted their theories and energy. Their stalker could be anyone—suspects, ex-boyfriends, foreign agents, or completely unknown entities with interests they couldn’t begin to fathom.
“This is incredibly helpful,” Ruth said dryly. “Really narrows it down to everyone we’ve ever met plus some people we haven’t.”
“At least we know they’re professionals,” Helen added from her window post. “Amateur surveillance would be more obvious.”
“Which brings us back to why professionals would care about four amateur detectives investigating produce theft,” Ida said with obvious frustration.
The silence that followed was heavy with unanswered questions. They were no closer to solving Brenda’s case, but they’d somehow attracted attention that far exceeded anything a stolen pumpkin should warrant.
