Susan Feeney had outdone herself. The Olive Oyl costume she had put together was spectacular. Janie wriggled in excitement, wearing a shirtwaist dress with Peter Pan collar, striped tights and black shoes. Susan had fashioned a turned-up nose of putty and found a black wig which she had swept back and pinned into a tight bun. The creation was adorable.
James wore a white sailor suit and hat, biting hard on a corncob pipe at the corner of his mouth and carrying a can of spinach. Rolling back the sleeve of the shirt, Susan had drawn an anchor tattoo on her son’s arm.
The plan was for all of them to go into town together to the kickoff point of the Halloween parade. Eliza would break off and go to the school to be ready with the cider and donuts for the kids and their parents, while Susan would stay with Janie, James, Bumblebee Kelly and Ladybug Kimberly. The mothers, but not their children, were aware that the security guards would be following along nearby.
The scene in downtown HoHoKus was something straight out of a Norman Rockwell painting as scores of children assembled in their Halloween regalia—witches and monsters, magicians and devils, pumpkins and princesses. While the most creative costumes were clearly homemade, Eliza noted with relief that many were obviously the store-bought kind. Not everyone was Martha Stewart out here, after all.
The kids marched along happily in the October morning sunshine. Eliza trained her video camera on their procession and promised to make a copy of the tape for Susan, who had her hands full with Kelly and Kimberly. When they reached the halfway point, Eliza broke away.
The trestle tables in the schoolyard were all set, covered with plates of cinnamon and powdered-sugar donuts and jugs of apple cider from nearby Demarest Farm. Eliza was stacking paper cups when Larson Richards approached.
“I figured I could find you here with Janie this morning. I didn’t know you’d be manning the refreshment stand.”
“Just want to do my small part, Larson,” she answered in a dismissive tone. She continued arranging the cups, hoping he would get the hint and leave.
Instead he pressed a folded piece of paper into her hand.
“What’s this?”
“The combination to the safe.”
‘Too little, too late, Larson. You probably heard, I’ve already been robbed.”
“I did hear and I’m sorry I didn’t get this to you sooner.” How could he tell her that he had been holding on to the combination as a reason to seek her out again?
She ignored his apology.
“I was wondering if I could talk with you, Eliza.”
“About what?”
“An investment opportunity I think you might be interested in.”
“This is hardly the place, Larson,” she answered shortly.
“Oh, I know that. I know that,” he answered nervously. “But I was hoping that we could get together over the weekend sometime and talk.”
“I don’t think so, Larson. I’m not looking to make any investments right now.”
“This is really a great opportunity, Eliza,” he insisted.
She looked at him squarely. Though she hadn’t gone to the police about it, Eliza still had her suspicions about the possibility of Larson being the one who had robbed her home. And if Joe Connelly found out that it was this slimeball who had been making the sick phone calls, she would personally find him and scratch his eyes out, for threatening not her, but her daughter.
“Look, Larson. I’m not interested. Period, the end. Please leave me alone.”
He skulked away angrily. Eliza Blake was an ungrateful bitch.