Page 16 of Pumpkin Patch Peril (Brook Ridge Falls Ladies’ Detective Club #1)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Ruth pulled into the Cup and Cake parking lot like a getaway driver, her eyes constantly flicking to the rearview mirror. The sedan hadn’t appeared since they left Gertie’s, but that somehow made her more nervous, not less.

“Coast looks clear,” Mona said, though she was scanning the street just as intently as Ruth.

“For now,” Helen added grimly, clutching her purse with white knuckles.

Ida was practically bouncing in her seat, completely undeterred by their surveillance situation. “Perfect timing for the tire tread analysis! The lighting in here should be optimal for photographic comparison work.”

They made their way into the cozy café like a tactical unit, Ruth holding the door while the others filed in, everyone stealing glances over their shoulders.

The familiar warmth and coffee-scented air of Cup and Cake should have been comforting, but their paranoia was running too high for complete relaxation.

“Corner table,” Ruth murmured, nodding toward a spot where they could watch both the entrance and the parking lot through the large front windows.

“Excellent defensive positioning,” Ida agreed, making her way toward the table with her purse full of investigation materials.

Once they were settled with their backs to the wall and clear sightlines to all potential threats, Ida began unpacking her supplies with the efficiency of a forensic investigator.

She spread out printed photos of tire treads, mathematical charts covered in measurements and calculations, and several magnifying glasses of varying strengths.

Lexy appeared at their table with the coffeepot, taking in the spread of evidence with obvious curiosity. “Ladies, you look like you’re planning a bank heist or solving a murder. What’s with all the spy stuff?”

“Scientific analysis,” Ida said importantly, adjusting one of her magnifying glasses. “We’re conducting comparative measurements using geometric principles and statistical modeling.”

Lexy poured coffee into their cups while studying the tire tread photos with interest. “Okay, but why do you all look like you’re expecting the FBI to kick down the door any minute?”

The four women exchanged glances. Ruth finally spoke up, keeping her voice low. “Someone’s been following us. Same car, three different locations. We think it might be connected to... well, to what we’re working on.”

“Following you?” Lexy’s voice rose with concern. “Should I call Jack?”

“We’re not sure it’s that serious yet,” Mona said quickly. “Could be a coincidence.”

“Three-location convergence probability indicates less than eight percent chance of coincidence,” Ida added, pulling out a calculator. “But we need more data points for a definitive statistical conclusion.”

Lexy looked around the café, taking in the few other customers. “Well, you picked a good spot. I can see everything from behind the counter, and Cassie’s in the kitchen if you need backup. What are you working on that’s got people following you around?”

Helen cleared her throat diplomatically. “We’re looking into something that went missing from a friend’s property. Agricultural theft.”

“That pumpkin theft you asked about earlier?” Lexy asked, intrigued.

Mona nodded.

“I didn’t realize that would get so serious.” Lexy glanced out the window. “Well, I’ll keep an eye out for suspicious cars. You ladies want your usual pastries while you do your... agricultural investigation?”

“Please,” Mona said gratefully. “And maybe keep those coffee cups full. This might take a while.”

As Lexy headed back to the counter, returning moments later with a generous assortment of pastries on a large plate, Ida was already deep into her analysis, using a ruler to measure tire tread patterns in the photographs with impressive precision.

Ida immediately claimed a pumpkin spice cookie from the selection, placing it squarely on her plate, then discreetly wrapped a cinnamon scone in a napkin and tucked it into her purse.

“Emergency snack,” she explained matter-of-factly when Helen raised an eyebrow.

“Mathematical analysis requires sustained energy levels.”

“First comparison,” she announced, placing Tom Knowles’s tire tread photos next to the crime scene evidence from Brenda’s farm. “Tread width: Tom’s tractor tires measure 18.3 centimeters between major grooves. Crime scene tire tracks measure 21.7 centimeters.”

Ruth kept one eye on the parking lot while Ida worked. A blue pickup truck pulled in, but it was just old Mr. Jenkins from the hardware store. A red sedan drove past on the street, but it didn’t slow down or seem to be watching them.

“Tread pattern analysis,” Ida continued, adjusting her magnifying glass. “Tom’s tires show a standard agricultural pattern—straight parallel grooves with minimal cross-hatching. The crime scene photos show a more complex pattern with diagonal elements and deeper channeling.”

“What does that mean?” Helen asked, though she was also monitoring the entrance.

“It means,” Ida said with obvious satisfaction, “that Tom Knowles’s tractor did not make the tire tracks at Brenda’s farm. The mathematics are conclusive.”

Mona looked up from watching the street. “So Tom’s not our pumpkin thief?”

“Not based on tire evidence,” Ida confirmed, already moving on to the next set of photos. “Now let’s examine Gertrude Hartwell’s tractor treads.”

She spread out the photos they’d managed to take during their reconnaissance mission at Gertrude’s farm, positioning them carefully next to the crime scene evidence.

“Gertrude’s tires,” Ida began, measuring carefully, “show a width of 19.8 centimeters between major grooves. Still not a match for the 21.7-centimeter crime scene measurement.”

Ruth spotted a dark car turning onto their street and tensed, but it was just a family heading to the grocery store next door.

“Pattern analysis for Gertrude’s tires,” Ida continued, consulting her charts. “Standard farm implement treads, designed for soil traction rather than road use. The crime scene pattern shows characteristics more consistent with mixed-use agricultural equipment.”

“Another elimination?” Mona asked.

“Another elimination,” Ida confirmed, sitting back with obvious disappointment. “Neither Tom nor Gertrude’s tractors match the tire evidence from the crime scene.”

The reality of what this meant began to sink in around the table. Their two prime suspects—the ones with obvious motives and clear means—had been ruled out by scientific evidence.

“So we’re back to Laura Jenkins and Doris Cumberland,” Helen said thoughtfully.

“Neither of whom seemed physically capable of moving a five hundred and twenty pound pumpkin,” Ruth pointed out, still scanning the parking lot.

“Unless they had help,” Mona suggested. “Or equipment we don’t know about.”

Ida was already packing up her tire tread analysis materials, though she kept glancing at her calculations as if hoping the numbers would change. “The mathematics don’t lie. Whatever vehicle was used at Brenda’s farm, it wasn’t Tom’s or Gertrude’s tractor.”

“Ladies,” Helen said quietly, her voice tight with tension. “Don’t look obvious about it, but there’s a dark sedan parked across the street. Same profile as the car that’s been following us.”

They all tried to glance casually toward the window while maintaining a normal conversation. Sure enough, a dark sedan was positioned across the street with a clear view of the café entrance.

“That’s definitely our tail,” Ruth said grimly. “Third sighting today.”

“Should we confront them?” Mona asked, her journalist instincts kicking in. “March over there and demand to know who they are and what they want?”

“Absolutely,” Ruth said, starting to stand up. “I’m tired of being followed around like some kind of criminal.”

But Ida grabbed her arm. “Wait. Let’s observe first. The scientific method applies to surveillance situations too. We should gather data before taking action.”

They spent the next several minutes trying to act natural while stealing glances at the mysterious vehicle. The windows were tinted dark enough that they couldn’t see the driver, but the car remained motionless, clearly watching the café.

“This is ridiculous,” Ruth finally declared, pushing back her chair. “I’m going over there.”

“We’ll come with you,” Helen said, standing up as well.

But as they gathered their courage and prepared to march across the street for a confrontation, the sedan’s engine started. By the time they made it to the café door, the mysterious vehicle was already pulling away, disappearing around the corner with practiced ease.

“Cowards,” Ruth muttered, staring after the departed car.

“Professional cowards,” Ida corrected, consulting her watch. “They maintained surveillance for exactly eleven minutes, then departed when we showed signs of direct engagement. That’s not amateur behavior.”

Back at their table, the mood had shifted from scientific excitement to genuine unease. The tire tread analysis had eliminated their prime suspects, and their mysterious followers were becoming increasingly difficult to dismiss as coincidence.

“So where does this leave us?” Helen asked as they prepared to leave the café.

“With two suspects who don’t seem physically capable of the crime,” Mona summarized.

“And professional surveillance of unknown origin,” Ruth added darkly.

“But also with definitive scientific evidence about what didn’t happen,” Ida said, trying to maintain some optimism. “We can rule out Tom and Gertrude completely. That narrows our focus to Doris Cumberland and Laura Jenkins.”

“Don’t forget, we still haven’t found the pumpkin,” Ruth said.

“Unless, it’s not a pumpkin anymore.” Ida bit into a pumpkin molasses cookie.

Ruth frowned. “What do you mean?”

“What if someone cut it up and used it. Like for baked goods?” Ida said.

“Doris Cumberland did have a lot of pumpkin dishes at her booth,” Helen sipped her coffee.

“We need to get back to the whiteboard,” Ruth declared. “Reassess everything we know with Tom and Gertrude eliminated.”

Mona’s phone buzzed on the table. She glanced at the screen, her mouth tightening.

Brenda: Only one more day! Please tell me you have something

The four women exchanged uneasy looks.

“Absolutely,” Mona agreed. “This changes our whole suspect matrix.”

“And of course we’ll need proper sustenance for strategic planning,” Ida added practically.

They all turned toward the café counter in unison.

“Lexy!” Helen called out. “A box of assorted to go, please!”