Chapter 50
Chapter Fifty
ALICE
Spotted :
It seems there might be trouble brewing at the house of a certain former rake. But not the kind of trouble you’d think.
The next day, Charlie and I avoid each other. It isn’t hard. He leaves for his normal Monday shift at the bus station, and I stay in the guest room to work on my novel.
Even when he gets home late that afternoon, I don’t run into him. I stay put while the Sharp twins arrive, and Lydia starts making dinner in the kitchen—the scene of last night’s crime.
Can’t think of anything else for that scene, Blythe?
Did I really say that to him? Out loud?
I thought we were on the same page, but Charlie looked stunned when that kiss ended, his face full of regret, and we weren’t on the same page at all. I must’ve seemed so desperate for him to take things as far as he did. So cringeworthy. Given how hard I threw myself at him, I might never leave this guest room again…until I go home on Wednesday morning.
Less than two days. I have to live in this room for less than two days . That seems totally doable—there’s a bathroom in here and everything—but then the doorbell rings. Muriel’s friendly voice echoes downstairs, and curiosity has always been my biggest weakness. It’s time to face the music.
Charlie is in the dining room with everyone else when I reach them. He looks cuter than he should, his dark hair slightly rumpled and his tattooed arms flexed as he sets Muriel’s heavy canvas bag on the table—being hot and helpful like always. That man is the sweetest possible bad boy; that’s what’s so irresistible about him. Good manners and harmless fun laced with dangerous glances. And that rare mix ticks all my boxes.
I avoid his gaze and keep my focus on Muriel. Her bag is packed to the brim, and she smooths the straps out of the way before glancing up. There’s a rolling pin inside, along with a jumble of ingredients like flour, sugar, and a few pints of fresh strawberries. Before she gets down to business, she grabs something from the bottom of her bag and holds it up.
Cookie’s stuffed bee.
It’s the original one, not the new bee Lydia bought a few days ago. It’s well-loved and well-worn, and Cookie howls in delight as he races over to claim his prize.
After she hands it to him, Muriel gives the rest of us a look. “I found that in my attic last night. When were you going to tell me you were having a ghost squirrel problem?”
I don’t know how to answer that. Mostly because my brain has latched on to the one detail that doesn’t matter. She goes in that haunted attic at night?
Images of cursed baby dolls and the ghost of Old Man Harris dance in my head. Luckily, everyone else is paying attention just fine.
“The ghost squirrel is a raccoon,” Charlie says. “He smells like baby powder, and he’s angry. Very, very angry.”
“A raccoon?” Muriel tilts her head. “Well, I suppose that does explain a few things…”
She ponders that new revelation for a second, then she gets back down to business. “Squirrel, raccoon. Potato, po-tah-toe. The important thing is we should band together to capture our foe. And since I have a whole bed-and-breakfast full of guests to worry about, I think we should do it here.”
Charlie seems skeptical, but a dangerous sparkle gleams in Lydia’s eyes. A dog-mom sparkle. “What did you have in mind?”
Muriel pats her grocery bag and smiles sweetly. But also, somehow, sinisterly. As if she can flip between those two moods on a dime. “Don’t worry, dear. I have just the thing.”
We bake a pie. For a raccoon. Because, apparently, that’s how people catch wild animals in Ponderosa Falls.
Baked goods.
Charlie assures us this isn’t the way it’s actually done. He even tries to call Wild Bill a few times to set us straight, but it keeps going to voicemail. So we stick with what we’ve got: Muriel and pie.
It isn’t just any pie, either. It’s her Top-Secret Triple Strawberry Supreme Pie. A family recipe that’s so coveted, Muriel makes the bottom layer by herself so we won’t know what’s in it, and then she makes us close our eyes several more times along the way.
Once we’re finished, I’m still not sure what’s inside. All I know is it smells incredible, the sweet and slightly tart scent of strawberries filling the entire house. Muriel made this exact pie at her bed-and-breakfast the first time the ghost squirrel showed up, and it’s been haunting her attic on strawberry pie day ever since. Except a few nights ago—when that raccoon was too busy terrorizing us.
Muriel hasn’t seen the ghost squirrel since, but this is our chance to finally catch him and set him free somewhere else. Far away from Cookie’s dog toys and Muriel’s attic.
The only thing weirder than our plan is Charlie’s mood. The way it sinks steadily as the scent of strawberries fills his kitchen. He acts like that smell is personally offensive to him, and I’m sure he’s just loved my strawberry shampoo. And my lip balm.
Turns out, I’ve been accidentally offending this man all week—with smells—and that’s such an Alice thing to do. Offend him by mistake. I’d love to know what else I’ve done wrong without meaning to. I’d like a nice long list, so I can quietly torture myself with it. Because that’s a pretty Alice thing to do too.
When our pie is done, it’s well past nightfall. Cookie is asleep in the guest room, and Muriel orders the rest of us into separate hiding places around the living room, behind couches and chairs. And then we wait. While our perfect strawberry pie sits inside a raccoon trap in the middle of the room that Charlie borrowed from the wildlife center.
“It smells so good,” Tyler whines quietly from behind an armchair. “Are we sure we want to waste an entire pie on a raccoon? Can’t we just cut him a slice?”
“A random slice of pie?” Muriel scoffs. “In an animal trap? He’d never fall for anything that obvious.”
An entire pie in an animal trap is also pretty obvious, but I keep that to myself.
“We’re doing this for Cookie,” Lydia reminds her brother, and he nods. As if protecting his sister’s beloved dachshund is one of the few things in life that makes sense. Even if it involves sacrificing an entire delicious pie.
“Besides,” Lydia whispers. “We made a backup pie just in case—it’s in the fridge. We can eat that one instead.”
Tyler grins, and they share a twin moment from opposite sides of the living room. Both of them nodding at each other in perfect unison. Forever partners in crime.
I don’t expect that to make my heart ache, but I shouldn’t be surprised. Seeing them together always reminds me of my twin sisters. How special their bond is, and all the ways I might’ve messed things up by helping Nicki keep a secret from her twin. It’s one of the few tough subjects I’d do anything to avoid these days, including ambush a raccoon with a strawberry pie.
I focus on that instead, our big plan. The lights are out, the downstairs windows are open, and the trap is set, but it takes a long time for our guest to show up. As we wait in silence, Charlie’s phone rings loud and long. Scaring every last one of us half to death, even Charlie.
Muriel gives him the most murderous glance I’ve ever seen, especially from a woman in possession of a cursed baby doll, as if he’s compromised our entire mission. Ducking away with an apologetic smile, he sneaks upstairs to answer his phone. My hiding place is closest to the stairs, closest to him, and his voice drifts toward me.
“No, it’s fine,” he says. “I was just calling about the raccoon that keeps showing up. The really angry and aggressive one.”
Wild Bill.
I breathe a sigh of relief. The true professional has arrived. If not in person, at least in spirit. Maybe we’re not about to get mauled by an angry, pie-loving raccoon after all.
Charlie hesitates. “You really think so? I mean, I guess that makes sense.”
A long silence stretches before he speaks again.
“In the attic? Are you sure? I haven’t heard anything, but I can check.”
His footsteps thump gently above me, and I hear the soft creak of an attic trapdoor, the squeal of the ladder as it unfolds.
Danger.
That’s all those sounds mean to me now. Thanks to Muriel, attics are my new nightmare destination, the worst place a person could ever go. I hear Charlie climb up, and anxiety gets the better of me. I can’t let him go in there alone. No matter how much I’m trying to avoid him.
Staying low, I crawl to the stairs and creep toward the second floor. Nobody notices. There’s a familiar scratching sound outside, a soft thump as our furry enemy climbs through the kitchen window, and that’s all anybody cares about.
Muriel and the Sharp twins wait for the ghost squirrel to join them in the living room, for him to go after that animal-trap pie. Instead, there’s a metallic squeal. The sound of a very familiar door as it’s pried open.
“The refrigerator,” Lydia whispers.
“The backup pie,” Tyler wails.
“He’s a genius,” Muriel tuts reverently. “An absolute genius.”
I don’t stay to see what happens next. After I reach the top of the stairs, I glance back as the Sharp twins nod in unison again. Muriel hisses for them to stay put, but they don’t listen. And that’s all I need to know.
Our mission is doomed.
Meanwhile, Charlie needs my help, and I can’t let him brave the attic alone. I pause at the foot of the ladder, gazing up into the void above me. Then I climb up into the dark to follow him. I’m starting to think I’d follow that man just about anywhere.
A crash echoes downstairs as I near the top of the ladder. Lydia squeals, and there’s a yelp and a scuffle. “Be careful,” Muriel hollers. “He can smell fear.”
Thankfully, once I’m in the attic, those sounds fade—for the most part. Charlie’s attic is neat and organized, but it’s way too dark. The faint glow of Charlie’s phone shimmers in the distance, and I follow it.
As I reach him, he glances up to greet me, his voice soft. “Babies,” he whispers. “Tiny raccoon babies.”
And there they are, two little mischievous angels. Their soft, dark eyes gleam up at us from their makeshift nest of old curtains that were stacked in the corner. The new stuffed bee Lydia bought is nestled beside them, along with Cookie’s backup toy, a small stuffed sheep.
“Bill said there were a few reasons a raccoon might be that aggressive,” Charlie says, “and this is one of them. I guess our ghost squirrel was a raccoon mom.”
I can’t help smiling, and he’s smiling too.
“Bill thinks maybe they were living at Muriel’s, but the mom moved everyone here because it seemed safer.”
Safer? Downstairs there’s a monumental clatter that’s followed by more clatters. One after another like someone’s throwing musical instruments down a flight of stairs. Lydia squeals a few times in a row, Muriel is yelling out pointers, and Tyler bellows death to tyrants like a battle cry.
When Charlie sees the panic on my face, he shakes his head. “Ty’s a vegetarian—we’re fine. He just gets carried away sometimes. That man wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
We head downstairs anyway, just in case, and as soon as I see the chaos around us, I gasp. Beside me, Charlie emits a stunned chuckle. Did the Sharp twins have a food fight with a raccoon?
That’s what it looks like. There’s pie everywhere, even on Tyler and Lydia. And although the raccoon is fine, a dessert or two has definitely been murdered.
Before we can intervene, Charlie’s front door flies open, but it isn’t Wild Bill Tipton, here to save the day. It’s Charlie’s mom, and the people who wander in behind her are a little too familiar. A little too upset.
“Alice Evelyn Kilpatrick,” my dad says as my mother and sisters file in too. Everyone but Marcus. “What were you thinking?”
I can’t answer. I try, but nothing comes out. Then my family notices the scene around them, all those red smears of pie, and they’re speechless too.
In the quiet that follows, Wild Bill finally shows up, but the mess in the living room doesn’t surprise him one bit—only the raccoon herself as she runs over to greet him.
“Barbara Anne?” he exclaims. “Is that you?”