“Galloping ghosts, Drew, look at this! I think Munoz killed Morley!”
I grab Aranya’s wrist and pull her forward, so Drew can see she showed the boys a picture of the Grim Reaper.
“Are you really going to make me spell this out for you?” Drew asks.
“Who dresses as the Grim Reaper in secret and then lies to the cops about it? Someone who’s up to no good, that’s who!” I insist.
“Okay, I admit, it seems strange that he would lie to us about something like that. But, we have no proof that he actually lied.”
“The rabbits just told you he did!”
“Fufu who heard it from Kyle who heard it from Fatty who heard it from Squeakers told Marshall, Marcus, and Stumpy. Let me just call my captain right now and tell him that, and we’ll get an arrest warrant in no time.”
“You’re welcome!” Marshall says.
“Do you have to remember every little detail?” I complain.
“In my line of work, it helps. And speaking of my line of work, I need to get back to the station. And yes,” he says before I can ask again, “I will investigate this further. Meanwhile, if you can find a used Grim Reaper costume lying around, you let me know. Damien, thank you for the breakfast. It was fabulous as always. And you,” he says, pointing an accusatory finger at me, “you stay out of trouble. Please.”
After the door closes behind him, I turn to Aranya. “You heard him. We need to find that costume.”
“That’s not what he said at all!” Damien protests. “He literally told you to stay out of trouble.”
“We need to see if the costume rental shop has a Grim Reaper costume, and did anyone rent it on Halloween?” Aranya says.
“We better pick up Miranda on the way, or she’ll be mad we left her out,” I add.
“Good thinking!” Aranya exclaims as we head out the door to the sounds of Damien sighing in the background once again.
After we grab Miranda, we head over to the Clever Costume Rentals. One of the best parts about living in a small town is that we can walk almost anywhere we need to go. Thankfully, the store is quiet today. I suppose right after Halloween is a slow time. The clerk at the store is a teenager who’s reading a magazine and barely looks up when we come in.
“Hi there!” I wave at him.
He grunts some kind of greeting, nods his head, and then goes back to his magazine. Great, he’s going to be helpful.
“Excuse me, can we ask you a question?” Aranya says.
“Costumes require a $50 cash deposit, no exceptions. Rental fees range from $45 to $100 per day depending on the costume. If you pick up a costume on Friday afternoon, you can return it Monday morning for no extra charge,” he says in a bored voice while flipping a page on the magazine.
I can already tell Miranda is having none of this. She marches over to the counter, grabs the magazine, flips it shut, and slams her hand on the countertop so hard the teenage clerk isn’t the only one who almost jumps out of his skin.
“We have an important question,” she tells him. “The least you can do is pay attention!”
“Geez, okay lady, what do you need?”
“Do you recognize this man? Has he rented a costume here recently?” She shoves Aranya’s phone in his face with a picture of Owen from his social media account.
The teen looks at her with disdain. “Lady, do you know how many people we’ve had in here this week for Halloween? I may have seen this guy. I may not have. I have no clue. Now give me my magazine back.”
I decide to try a different approach. “Do you keep track of who rents which costume?”
“If they pay with a credit card, it’s in the database.”
“Perfect!” I rub my hands together. “Can you look to see if you have the name for whoever rented the Grim Reaper costume on Halloween?”
“What’s a Grim Reaper?” he sneers.
“Could you please just look it up?” I ask again.
“Fine.” he rolls his eyes, stands up, and shuffles over to the computer like it’s the most arduous task in the world.
When he asks how to spell Grim Reaper, I have to grab Miranda’s arm before she goes to give him a pinch.
As I spell it out, he then examines the screen. “Looks like some dude named Owen Munoz rented it for Halloween.”
The three of us stare at each other wide-eyed and excited. My heart hammers so hard I think I might pass out. “We have to tell Drew.”
“Whoa, wait, Char, look at this!” Miranda tells me.
“What is it?”
“After you told me that Aranya figured out from Munoz social media profile he was lefthanded, I started combing through it myself. You need to see this.”
Under employment, it shows him as retired - he was an exterminator for the federal government where he served on Naval ships in San Diego.
“You’re going to have to enlighten me here.”
“My Uncle Louie used to do extermination work in warehouses and on the loading docs in San Diego!”
“Erm, I doubt they knew each other? Or did they?” I’m confused as to where she’s going with this.
“No, you dummy! It’s the poison they use in places like that.”
“Ew, I hate to think,” I respond.
“They use cyanide!”
“Okay, now we really have to call Drew.”
I call him on the way back to Marcall’s, thinking he’s going to be pleased that I actually called him, instead of just going all rogue and trying to track down Owen myself. He’s not. He shouts so loud I have to hold the phone away from my ear.
“Are you telling me that I was barely out the door when you went to the costume rental store after I specifically told you to stay put?”
“Uhhh, well, we picked up Miranda first.” The silence on the other line tells me that didn’t help. “But this is important, right?”
“That’s beside the point, Char, geez. I ask you to stay out of the investigation for your own good, not because I like to hear the sound of my voice lecturing you, believe it or not.”
“Okay, I understan—”
“—no, I don’t think you do!”
“I have one more thing to tell you.”
“Go ahead,” he sighs.
Then I explain how Miranda learned he was a retired federal employee, who worked as an exterminator on ships for the Navy, and that they often used cyanide to kill rats on ships.
Another long silence. Is he mad? Did he hang up? “Okay. Send me the link to what Miranda found on social media, and I’ll dispatch a patrol car to Clever Costume Rentals for written proof of Owen’s costume rental, if, and only if you promise you’ll go back to Marcall’s right now and stay there. No interviewing anyone else today, understand?”
“Yes!” I respond. “Please, just get the evidence you need that shows Munoz lied to us and then arrest him.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” he says with a click.
I still don’t appreciate his skepticism, but I’m somewhat relieved that he’s taking this evidence we have on Owen Munoz seriously. He’ll come around, eventually.