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the vendors setting up booths around Courthouse Park who offered her samples of their goodies while I was on patrol, gave me to understand that a small snack of harvest cake and soft pretzels would be good before we went to the theater. Sometimes she and Alex are two minds with but a single thought.
    The news hadn’t gotten out yet, but Delbert Biggers was leaving town. It was that or a charge of attempted murder. I wish I could have been there when the Chief gave him the ultimatum, but I probably would have just cramped his style. No one is the least bit intimidated by me and Biggers might not have taken the Chief’s threat seriously had I been there.
    Instead of going to the station to see Biggers get his comeuppance, Alex, Blue, Wallander , and I had stayed for the Lit Wits’ rehearsal party, which was rather grander than expected what with Tara Lee catering it. The drama coach did not mention to anyone what had happened, probably to protect the kids from the knowledge of how loony their old coach had been. After all, he didn’t want to start any rumors about trouble with the Scottish play the night before it opened.
    “Want some cider?” Alex asked me. I was standing at the crossroads of footpaths through the park. They were lined with grinning jack-o’-lanterns and smelled like the world’s biggest pumpkin pie. I was a little sad that I wasn’t competing.
    “Is there time?” I asked.
    “If we sip while we walk,” he said, taking my hand in his and giving it a squeeze.
    “Okay then. It wouldn’t feel like Halloween without some cider.”
    “By the way, did I mention that Aunt Mary Elizabeth has offered us her cabin for Thanksgiving?”

 
 

Over the River

 
    We had taken up Aunt Mary Elizabeth’s offer of her cabin for Thanksgiving. Last year’s beast of a feast had left me gun-shy since I was pretty sure that Tara Lee would try to rope me into participating again if I were within calling distance. I’d tried to get enthused about a large Thanksgiving ever since the last one, but the moths got at that idea right away and chewed big holes in it. Mom and Aunt Bea love that sort of thing, but Alex and I wanted a small banquet with just the Jackmans for company.
    Also, though I love my nephew, Reggie, I see quite enough of his father at work and I really didn’t mind not spending the day with Althea in my face. My cousin is one of those people who feel they can accomplish most things through criticism dressed up as “honesty.” I didn’t need that while cooking. She also writes ear- abradingly awful poetry and inflicts it on her hostages at family events where they can’t escape. I’ve tried—everyone has tried—talking her out of reading these commemorative verses, but it is a lost cause, especially now that she thinks she is doing it for her son. Dodging her is the only way to save on the nerves’ wear and tear.
    Fortunately, Aunt Mary Elizabeth’s cabin had rotten cellphone reception. The only way to get a signal was to climb out of the garret in the attic and up onto the roof. There was also a neighbor who plowed the road for fifty bucks a week during the snow season, so we didn’t need to worry if it snowed. I was certain that things would be perfect.
    Mary Elizabeth’s cabin is small but nice. There is a large kitchen/dining/living room area downstairs with a half bath tucked under the stairs. There are two bedrooms upstairs, both generously sized. We had to share a bath, but I didn’t think it would be a problem since none of us are mirror hogs.
    I was feeling pretty confident about preparing the turkey and I knew that Mr. Jackman wasn’t the type to sit around with folded hands when there was action in the kitchen, so he would be there to lift me up if I fumbled badly.
    On Wednesday, Alex and I stopped by the turkey ranch and picked up our bird—an heirloom turkey descended from the birds I had rescued two years ago—and, with our other groceries loaded, we headed into the