Page 39 of Pumpkin Patch Peril
“That does sound fascinating,” Harold admitted.
Merry’s expression grew more serious. “And that’s exactly why her environmental work is so important. All these mathematical relationships in nature are being disrupted by pesticides and chemicals. It’s destroying the natural mathematical balance.” She looked around the group hopefully. “I do hope everyone here has signed her petition about pesticide regulation?”
The residents suddenly found their coffee cups and charts extremely interesting, studying them with intense focus while avoiding eye contact.
“Oh,” Merry said, deflating slightly. “Well, if anyone hasn’t signed it yet, you can go right over to her house! She’s always happy to have visitors, and she loves explaining the science behind her environmental work. She’d be delighted to have you sign the petition.”
Mona’s eyes lit up as if she’d just solved a complex equation. “AHA!” she exclaimed, loud enough to make several residents jump. “That’s exactly how we can have an excuse to interrogate her!”
Ruth and Helen stared at her in alarm.
“I mean,” Mona said quickly, realizing she’d spoken out loud, “that’s exactly how we can... uh... show our support for environmental mathematics! Yes. Mathematical environmentalism. Very important cause.”
Merry beamed. “Oh wonderful! Laura will be so pleased. She lives just down Maple Street, in the yellow house with all the wildflower gardens.”
Ruth grabbed Mona’s arm before she could say anything else incriminating. “We should definitely go support that... mathematical... environmental... cause.”
“Right now,” Helen added firmly, beginning to steer Mona toward the door. “Before we say anything else we shouldn’t.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Twenty minutes later, they had pryed Ida away from her statistics lecture, and Ruth’s Oldsmobile was driving up the driveway to Laura Jenkins’s property, past a weathered mailbox decorated with hand-painted bees and butterflies.
The house was a charming old farmhouse, painted soft yellow with white trim that had seen better decades. But it was the outbuildings that caught their attention—a massive red barn that looked like it could house a small aircraft, and a potting shed that seemed larger than some people’s garages.
“Well,” Ida observed from the backseat, “she’s certainly got plenty of places to hide a giant pumpkin.”
The property was a riot of late-season color. Perennial gardens sprawled in organized chaos around the house and buildings, filled with native wildflowers, towering sunflowers, and what appeared to be every bee-friendly plant known to botany. The air hummed with the industrious buzzing of bees and the flutter of monarch butterflies preparing for their southern migration.
They found Laura kneeling in a flower bed near the potting shed, wearing a wide-brimmed sun hat that made her look like acharacter from a Victorian garden party. She was carefully dead-heading spent blooms when she spotted their approach, and her expression immediately shifted to cautious recognition.
“Oh,” she said, rising slowly and brushing dirt from her knees. “You’re the ladies from the other day. The ones with the reckless parking situation.”
Ruth winced slightly, but Mona stepped forward with her most diplomatic smile. “We really are sorry about that.”
“And,” Helen added smoothly, “we heard from Merry Bellweather that you have a petition about pesticide regulation that we’d like to sign.”
Laura’s entire demeanor transformed as if someone had flipped a switch from suspicious to delighted. “Oh! Oh, how wonderful! I’m so glad there are people in this community who care about environmental protection.” She practically bounced on her toes. “Let me get the petition right now!”
She hurried toward the house, her charm bracelet creating a soft musical tinkling with each enthusiastic step.
The moment she disappeared inside, the ladies sprang into action like a well-rehearsed reconnaissance team.
“Quick,” Mona whispered, “check the barn windows.”
Helen scurried toward the large structure, trying to peer through grimy glass while maintaining the appearance of casual garden appreciation. Ruth headed for the potting shed, craning her neck to see inside while pretending to admire a nearby stand of fall asters.
Ida, meanwhile, had discovered a butterfly bush the size of a small tree and was practically diving into its purple branches.
“Ida, what are you doing?” Mona hissed.
“Scientific observation,” Ida replied, her voice muffled by foliage. “This bush could hide all sorts of evidence. Very thorough hiding place for?—”
“Just what are you doing?”
They all froze. Laura was standing on the porch steps, petition in hand, staring at their obvious snooping with growing suspicion.
“You didn’t really come here for the petition, did you?” Laura said slowly, her earlier enthusiasm cooling rapidly.
