A Most Delicious Halloween Murder

The three Simms children were littered across their home’s front porch like discarded rag dolls. Their two-story home was one of the 100-year-old buildings that was situated around the town square. In the middle of the square was the red brick courthouse which was the county’s most beautiful building and most expensive asset.

The oldest child, Brett, was throwing a baseball up into the air and catching it as he lay on his back. He was 11 years old.

Sandra, the second oldest, was swinging in the porch swing with her head propped on her hands, elbows propped on her lap. She looked like she had swallowed a moth and was pondering how to get the distasteful creature out of her belly. At nine years old, she had already acquired all the knowledge the world had to offer.

Five-year-old Braxton sat on the steps and glared at Colonel Robert Patrick Worthington. It was all his fault that the three siblings were grounded from Halloween trick-or-treating tonight.

Colonel Robert Patrick Worthington was quite oblivious of the anger he had stirred in the Simms children’s hearts. Worthington had been a Civil War hero who was given the glorious distinction of having Worthington County named in his honor. There, in the middle of the town square, parked in front of the costly courthouse, the colonel sat frozen in bronze on his trusty steed. His right arm was raised high above his head with his sword clenched in his shiny brawny fist.

The Simms children had always thought the colonel looked like a creepy crusty dude. His face was set by the sculptor as if he were yelling, “Charge!” Sandra had once commented that he looked as if he were constipated and was yelling for more toilet paper.

Earlier, this Saturday Halloween morning, the Simms trio had decided that the colonel needed a Halloween costume. After grabbing their dad’s ladder, and when traffic was nonexistent (which it usually was), they had placed a purple sparkly scarf that belonged to their mother around the hero’s neck. Because that looked so lovely, they had decided that the good colonel needed more accessories.

Braxton contributed his Spiderman mask and cape. It was a tight fit trying to get it on the colonel’s robust proportions, but at last Brett accomplished the goal without falling off the ladder.

Sandra added her Hawaiian lei on the horse’s tail. She also created a sign on posterboard that read, “I want to be your Halloween honey!” and propped it up against the horse’s legs in front of the statue.

The final touch was when Brett used his dad’s drone to tactically place a carved-out Jack O’ Lantern on the tip of the sword. The face of the poor pumpkin looked as though he felt that sword going into his most intimate parts. Colonel Worthington never looked so good.

Once ready, the Simms removed all evidence that they had been near the statue, then waited to see the reactions as Worthington folk saw the colonel in his costume. They sat on their front porch, sipping punch and trying to act as if they weren’t interested in anything but playing Go Fish.

Although the town of Green Glen was the Worthington County seat, and it had the largest population in the county – that population was only 1,259. The town square was more often deserted than it had people strolling about. The west side of the town was the “new” side of town, and the active businesses and shops were located there. The town square was busy when court was in session during the week, and the sheriff’s small office and jail saw a modest trickling of traffic at odd times. But on Saturday, the square was usually quiet and very few people wandered the sidewalks. That was going to change this Saturday.

The first person to notice the chic Colonel Worthington was Mr. Danburry. Mr. Stanly Danburry, Esquire, was the town prosecuting attorney. He was out for his weekend jog.

Sandra had also given her opinion of the “Danburry jog” – “He runs like a duck with a crawdad up his tail end.”

As Mr. Danburry passed the statue, the purple glittery scarf caught his attention. He stopped, put his hands on his hips and scowled with indignation. With a huff, he began jogging again – only faster and even more wabbly than usual.

Within ten minutes, a very distinguished crowd had gathered by the statue. Mr. Danburry had returned with the mayor, the council members, the head librarian, the president of the historical society, and worst of all, the sheriff. They all stood and stared at the honorable Colonel Robert Patrick Worthington, who looked a little less than honorable on this Halloween morning.

No one was laughing or smiling. The group looked quite upset. This wasn’t the reaction the Simms children had expected. Why don’t grownups have a sense of humor?

“Let’s get out of here,” Brett whispered to his partners in crime.

The children tried to quietly leave the front porch and sneak into the house, but the darned screen door made the most obnoxious squeaky noise as they opened it.

“Brett, Sandra, Braxton – come here!” It was the sheriff’s voice. The children knew that voice well. Sheriff Simms was also their dad.

“Act innocent,” Sandra hissed, trying not to move her lips as they obediently walked toward the group of adults.

“What is innocent,” Braxton asked within earshot of the adults.

“Yes, explain what innocent is,” Sheriff Simms said to his children.

“Dad, what makes you think we did that?” Brett boldly counter-challenged. Brett sometimes had more courage than he had brains.

“Let me see,” Sheriff Sims looked at the statue. “I see Braxton’s Spiderman costume … (then he pointed to the horse’s tail) that looks like the lei that Sandra usually has hanging on her vanity mirror, and I do believe that is your mother’s purple scarf – I couldn’t miss that eyesore.”

“Dad, it’s not that bad a thing,” Sandra said. “Maybe the colonel would like to celebrate Halloween, too.”

“It’s vandalism.” The sheriff gave the children one of his long, hard, stern looks. “You are grounded for Halloween night. And be grateful that I don’t arrest you and put you in jail.”

“Aw, Dad!” the three children wailed together.

“That’s it,” the sheriff’s mind was set. “You are not to go beyond the front porch tonight.”

The rest of the adults seemed to approve of the sheriff’s decision. They were nodding their heads in righteous indignation as they started to turn away.

“One more thing – get all this ridiculous stuff off Colonel Worthington’s statue!”

All the adults left, except their dad. He helped them get the pumpkin off the sword, and all the pumpkin guts left on the tip.

“I don’t know what got into you, kids,” the sheriff said after the colonel was unceremoniously stripped of his Halloween garb.

“We’re sorry, Dad,” said Sandra sweetly. “Can we please go trick-or-treating tonight?” Sometimes syrupy wheedling worked.

“No! You need to never forget that nothing about this trick is okay. It’s not right to desecrate historic memorials.”

So, as dusk settled upon the town square of Green Glen, the three Simms children sat moping on their front porch. Braxton wore his Spiderman costume. They were hoping for a glimpse of a few of their trick-or-treating friends; however, most children went to the west side of town to trick-or-treat.

Only a few of the old houses around the square were actually people’s homes. There was the Simms’ home, the post office, Doctor Phillip’s office and home, a few vacant former shops, and crazy old Miss Worthington’s mansion. Nobody went to her home on Halloween. Rumor had it – she was a witch.

True – no one had ever seen her flying on a broom, but she did have a black cat. She (Miss Worthington, not the cat) was the great, great granddaughter of Colonel Robert Patrick Worthington. She didn’t put on any airs about such grand ancestry, but she wasn’t quite normal either.

Whenever seen in the grocery store, one could always hear her humming. The town children said she was humming incantations to cast spells on anyone who didn’t treat her right. Strange things happened to people who messed with the little old lady.

One time, a roofer was working on the courthouse roof, and he made fun of how Miss Worthington was walking. Next thing you know that guy fell off the roof and broke his arm.

Brett momentarily stopped tossing the ball in the air. He sat up and cocked his head and looked hard at the Worthington mansion. He noticed strange colored lights glowing from behind drawn shades.

“Look! There are weird colored lights flashing inside Miss Worthington’s house,” Brett alerted Sandra and Braxton.

“She always has colored lights in there,” Sandra responded. “I see them every night.”

Suddenly the squeaky screen door opened, and Mrs. Simms (the kids’ mom) appeared at the door with a tray full of treats. The children became silent. Since this morning’s unfair trial, no adult could be trusted.

“Here, kids,” Mrs. Simms said with a smile. “Here are some treats to nibble on.”

Well, maybe their mom could be trusted … a little. She was always the nice one who understood that children need some fun in life. Brett even saw her take a photo of the colonel from the porch, when all the other adults were busy being cranky pants. To Brett, it seemed she had a smile on her face before she popped back inside the house after capturing a photo of the colonel in costume.

After Mrs. Simms returned into the house, Brett said, “Let’s go over and check out what’s going on at Miss Worthington’s house.”

“We’re not supposed to leave the porch,” Sandra retorted.

“We’ll only be gone a few minutes. No one will know,” Brett shot back with a twinkle of adventure in his eyes.

It didn’t take much coaxing. The Simms children loved adventure.

Two children and one small Spiderman stealthily scampered across the street. It was now dark, and the three spies were on a mission. They crept around to the back of Miss Worthington’s three-story home. The white paint was peeling, and the weeds were in dire need of pulling. The house looked spooky. Brett was in the lead as the group molded themselves against the ground.

There! That must be the kitchen window. A shadow moved in front of the shade, then back again.

Suddenly, a blood-curdling scream pierced the silent night. Miss Worthington came running out the back door. Her face was covered in blood. She had a large knife in one hand and slime all over her other hand.

When she saw the children, she let out a shocked bellow. That was all it took – Brett and Sandra jumped up from their crouched positions and ran back to their front porch. Braxton was not so lucky.

It wasn’t until the two panting children had collapsed on their front porch that they realized that Braxton wasn’t with them. Then they heard him scream.

Brett and Sandra looked at each other in horror. The other rumor about Miss Worthington, the witch, was that she ate children and drank their blood.

Brett and Sandra heard the vacuum cleaner running somewhere inside their house. How could their mother clean at a time like this?

“Let’s go get Dad,” Braxton exclaimed to Sandra. They both ran to the sheriff’s office, two blocks down the street.

“Dad! Dad!” they both squawked as they entered the front of the office.

“Kids, calm down,” the dispatcher, Katie Gorman, responded. “Your dad isn’t here right now, but he’ll be back soon. There was a ruckus down at the Pizza Pizza Parlor.”

Katie smiled at the two children. “Do you want a treat?” She pulled out a plastic pumpkin head that was full of candy.

“No, we have to see our dad – fast!” Brett exclaimed. “We think there’s been a murder and Braxton is a hostage now.”

“Who did the murdering?”

“It was Miss Worthington!” Sandra yelped. “We have to hurry!”

“Miss Worthington is a sweet old lady,” Katie said calmly. “She wouldn’t murder anyone.”

“We heard someone scream in her house and she came out with blood all over her face. Then, we ran, and Braxton didn’t get a way. We heard him scream!” The children were talking fast and wildly, their words tumbled over each other’s.

“Okay, Okay,” Katie responded. “I’ll let your dad know. Go sit down in the waiting area.”

An hour passed before Sheriff Sims returned.

“Kids hurry!” He motioned to them before they could speak. “We have Miss Worthington’s home surrounded. Since you two witnessed the crime, we want you both to come with us.”

A wink passed between the dispatcher and sheriff, but the Simms children missed it in their stupefaction.

“C’mon, kids – we must hurry if we want to save Braxton!”

Brett and Sandra’s eyes widened in horror. Their father gave them a light push to hurry them to the squad car.

With siren blaring, the vehicle raced its two-block journey.

When they arrived at the Worthington mansion, Sandra said trembling, “Dad, I’ll just wait in the car.”

“No, we need both witnesses,” her dad responded with urgency.

At that moment, Deputy Dean Davies walked up.

“She’s in the house, sheriff,” Davies said. “How should we proceed?”

“Let’s go in at the front door,” the sheriff said. “Kids, we need you to lead us in.”

“What?!” Both Brett and Sandra squeaked simultaneously.

“Dad – you’re the sheriff, shouldn’t you go in first?” Brett questioned.

“No, you found this crime scene – you go first,” their father responded with a serious sense of law enforcement earnestness.

Brett and Sandra walked toward the front door. It was partially open. Brett slowly pushed the door open wider and said, “Hello, anyone here?”

Silence.

Brett pushed open the door wider. He and Sandra peaked into the room. Sparkling Christmas lights were twinkling around the room. There on a deep magenta colored velveteen sofa lay Braxton. He was motionless and the witch’s black cat sat next to him.

Sandra let out a scream. She was sure Braxton was croaked. She’d never say another mean thing about him again.

Sandra’s scream seemingly brought back to life Braxton. He sat up and rubbed his eyes with sleepiness.

Brett and Sandra ran toward their little brother and hugged him tightly. The black cat jumped into a nearby chair.

“We’re so glad you’re okay, Braxton,” Sandra said with genuine relief in her voice. “Where’s the witch?”

“Here I am, dearies,” Miss Worthington said as she entered the room.

Sandra and Brett were frozen in fear – thankfully their dad, the sheriff, was there.

Braxton hopped off the sofa and walked toward Miss Worthington. When he reached her, he slipped his tiny hand into hers and looked at this brother and sister.

“You don’t have to be scared,” Braxton announced. “Miss Worthington is a good witch.”

“We heard a scream,” Brett responded. He pointed a finger at the elderly woman, “She had blood all over her face and a big knife in her hand!”

With mock seriousness, the sheriff said, “Miss Worthington, was there a murder here, tonight?”

“I must confess, sheriff, I murdered Jack,” Miss Worthington said with no remorse. She seemed to think it was funny.

“Where is the body?” the sheriff asked.

“The head is over there by the window,” Miss Worthington said and pointed toward a front window.

On a table by the window sat a big Jack O’ Lantern with more Christmas lights flashing from inside the carved pumpkin. They were all purple lights that gave “Jack” a festive dashing look that complimented his lopsided leer.

“But you had a knife and blood all over your face!” Brett accused.

“You caught me at a bad moment,” Miss Worthington said. “I had just cut off the top of Jack’s head and I carried it toward my sink, just over the spaghetti sauce I was cooking.”

“As I carried the gooey pumpkin top over the pot, it slipped out of my hands, and it dropped into the spaghetti sauce and it splashed all over my face,” she explained. “Thankfully, the sauce wasn’t hot yet … just warm. I ran onto my back porch and that’s when I saw you three and I had another scare – I wasn’t expecting to find goblins on my back porch.”

“Her spaghetti is really good,” interjected Braxton. A few spots of the “blood” spaghetti sauce had dried around his mouth. “Miss Worthington gave me spaghetti and cookies and cake. She’s really nice. She didn’t try to eat me.”

Miss Worthington laughed. “No, I’m a vegan. I don’t eat any animals – not even children – as tempting as they are.” Her eyes twinkled as she looked toward the sheriff and deputy.

“I even met Inky Dinky,” Braxton said. He went over to the chair where the cat was perched and stroked the cat’s silky back.

“I guess since you only murdered a pumpkin, we will have to drop all charges, Miss Worthington,” Sheriff Simms said.

“I hope everyone can stay for some Halloween treats,” Miss Worthington chirped.

Before leaving, the sheriff, his children and Deputy Davies were treated to “killer” spaghetti, homemade cake and cookies and chocolate almond milk. (Brett asked how almonds were milked, to which the all-knowing Sandra rolled her eyes heavenward.)

As the children left with their dad, Miss Worthington called out, “I loved the Halloween outfit that you gave my great, great grandfather, Colonel Worthington!”

Thereafter, the colonel always received a nicely decorated Jack O’Lantern that sat near his horse’s front hoofs every Halloween.

Miss Worthington’s home became one of the town children’s favorite places to visit ... after the Simms children told the story of the best Halloween night they ever had.