The police were unable to locate the body that night; a thorough search of the house revealed nothing out of the ordinary, besides the eerie pumpkin man. The pumpkins were taken away to be checked for fingerprints, with the promise that they would soon be returned to the band who the police incorrectly assumed were their rightful owners—and who were also wrongly accepted as the ones to have called in about the stolen pumpkins in the first place. The presumption was supported by the fact that every pumpkin was clearly marked with the BBBFB logo.

When asked to confirm these facts, the group’s singer had nodded slowly and said, “Ah. Yes. These are, in fact, our pumpkins. I was a little startled, that’s all. Poor pumpkins—someone has broken them.” The police sympathized with the spooked young musician and told him that he was free to go home. The organizers had explained that the band had arrived late and were bringing in their gear when the body was found, and therefore couldn’t be guilty.

Besides, this problem was bigger than one band. Over the past year, murders had been occurring at venues around the city. First it was a university student attending a metal show on Osborne Street. Then a woman was found in an alley outside a bar called the Comely Son, the ink of her hand-stamp still fresh, while a shoegaze band blissfully played on inside. In the summer, two bodies were discovered near an outdoor stage during a small reggae festival; one turned out to be a mini-donut vendor, the other a trumpet player.

The police didn't know what to make of it. Could you temporarily shut down a city's music scene? It would simply move underground and become more dangerous. Should they station police at every show? Too expensive. And besides, a show like this house concert was so small it wouldn't have been on their radar anyway. Could they provide free self-defence training for musicians and show-goers? The demographic that was, statistically, the least likely to sign up for voluntary exercise?

There was no solution except to hope that would-be music scenesters would be deterred by the danger and inspired to find a new and more productive hobby.

***

Jaymie and Jo found Aaron, Sasha and Rex outside outside the locked van with their heap of gear, waiting for Jaymie to return with the key. Rex's friends were saying their goodbyes, admitting that they had curfews, muttering, "My parents are going to kill me," etc.

Jo noticed that Aaron seemed to have calmed down since earlier, or else used up the remainder of his adrenalin on the show, and drummed himself into an apathetic stupor.

“So, the cops said we can keep the pumpkins,” said Jaymie. “When they’re done taking Instagram photos with them.”

“Jesus,” said Jo, still shaken by the scene in the upstairs bedroom.

“So the police took away the, uh…?” Aaron glanced at Rex and avoided saying “body.” Or maybe he was going to say “corpse” or “carcass” or “pumpkin cadaver”—Jo shook her head to clear it, longing to get home to a bedtime toke and her soft pillow.

“There wasn’t a… I’ll tell you later,” Jaymie said darkly. He unlocked the trunk and picked up an amp. "But yes, they're taking care of it. We're all good."

"Oh really? Are we all good?" Colin exited the back porch, letting the screen door bang behind him.

Jo had been hoping he wouldn't recover from the sight of the pumpkin man in time to confront them. Her one strategy in times of conflict was to stare down in confusion at her aggressor until they’d calculated the odds of beating her in a fight and apologized for whatever they'd demanded of her, but something told her that wasn't going to work with Colin, especially considering she'd had a pleasant professional relationship with him up until she'd robbed him earlier that evening.

“Hey, Colin. Nice you could make it to the show,” said Jaymie.

"You know I didn't come to see the show.”

“Did you pay cover? You know we’d have put you on the list.”

“I didn’t even catch the music, sorry.” Colin took a step toward Jaymie. Jo didn't think he was a violent person, but she hadn't known him long, and his life's work was, after all, hitting things.

“Liar, you watched the whole set,” said Sasha.

“It doesn’t matter—and stay out of it, Sash,” said Colin.

“Oh no he didn’t!” said Jaymie.

“Stay out of it?” Sasha challenged. “You want me to stay out of it? Maybe you should have thought of that before you went to Harvest Magic Festival to supposedly play a country set and have a ‘nice night around the campfires’ and instead took sketchy shroom pills and got naked with that hippy chick!”

“Oh wow,” said Aaron. Rex let out a startled snort and clapped a hand over their mouth. Jo shook her head and hefted two guitar cases into the trunk.

“For the last time, we were in an open relationship!”

"Maybe you were in an open relationship! I'm pretty sure rule number one of polyamory is you let your girlfriend know you're polyamorous!"

“Drummers, am I right?” Jaymie mumbled to Aaron. The two simultaneously reached for the components of the drumset and began stacking them in the van.

“Let you know?” Colin yelled incredulously. “It’s what you wanted!”

"Yeah, and you hated it and you wanted to be monogamous, and I told that nice arts admin guy I met at the punk show, ‘Sorry, but I'm with someone and it’s very serious and committed’—”

While the two fought, Rex hopped into the van to rearrange items and coerce the gear into fitting in the small space. This was a particular skill of Rex’s. The others slowly passed up the floor tom and guitar cases, murmuring advice or congratulations as things jigsawed into place. Finally, Sasha reappeared beside the van.

“Colin says he won’t press charges if you give back the pumpkins.” She sighed. “And he wants the door money. To make up for the broken ones.”

“You worked all that out just now?” said Jaymie.

"He says..." She winced apologetically. "He says he thinks the police will be a lot more suspicious of you if they know you stole a few hundred dollars worth of produce right before a show where someone got killed."

"Someone got what?" said Rex.

Jaymie cringed and glanced at them guiltily. "Some poor guy died, and all he cares about is blackmailing us about his stupid pumpkins?"

"Yeah, and about the pumpkins…” Sasha gave a contrite smile. “I still think it's hilarious and I appreciate that you did it,"

“Jaymie, do we have a deal?” asked Colin from behind her. “Or should I tell the officers in there about how smashing up pumpkins is exactly the kind of thing this violent rock band is into—and I should know, I played with them for months. In fact, that’s why I quit! So aggressive. Who knows what they’re capable of?”

Sasha said “Fuck you,” at the same time that Jaymie said “We are into the Smashing Pumpkins.”

"Sure, you probably won't get a murder pinned on you. I mean, obviously you didn't do it... " He hesitated. "…Right?"

“You saw what was up there!” Jaymie exclaimed. “I don’t even think a human did that!”

"It would have been nearly impossible to get the body downstairs without anyone seeing. It's like it just disappeared," Jo mused. "And to make that... sculpture? Within the time of our set?" She'd recovered enough from her initial shock to start feeling perplexed. Aaron and Rex, who hadn’t seen the pumpkins since their tragic rearrangement, exchanged questioning looks.

Colin was not interested in playing detective. "Fine, so you were busy playing and you didn't have time to kill anyone,” he said. “But it's an extra complication, and you’ll sure as hell have to pay for those pumpkins. Everyone who knows us knows they're mine."

Jaymie threw up his hands. “Yeah, shit, fine. They wouldn’t have sold anyway.”

Colin nodded, satisfied. “How much did you make at the door?”

“Fifty bucks,” Jaymie replied without hesitation.

Colin looked skeptical, and Jaymie added, "They're promoters. They have expenses to cover. They make posters and shit. Why is this always a thing with you? If you want to make money, quit playing in indie bands! Get some top forty gigs. Play country."

"Whatever. I want them back by Monday. And the fifty."

Once Colin had left, the band stood silently in the alley. Jaymie kicked at some dead leaves. Finally, he said, “Well, I think that went well! Considering.”

“Thanks again for taking my side,” said Sasha.

“Of course!” said Jaymie. “We don’t care who said it was an open relationship when. Right guys?”

The band quickly murmured assent. Jo said, “That guy’s an asshole,” though she was too tired to consider if that were truly the case. She decided this was probably one of those not-quite-black-and-white scenarios that seem intellectually overwhelming until one is entirely sober again and can laugh at the whole thing.

"I wanted Aaron back in the band anyway!" said Jaymie. "I get all funny if we don't hang out enough. I descend into emotional turmoil, pretty soon I turn into an alcoholic—you know how it is." He gestured offhandedly, as if they could all relate to the separation anxiety of being temporarily Aaron-less.

“Oh, almost forgot. For you,” said Aaron, stuffing a scrap of paper into Jaymie’s hand. It was a phone number.

“That’s really sweet, Aar-bear, but you know I live with you, I can just talk to you whenever I want…”

"Ha ha. The pretty Filipina girl in the striped dress. Mika... Mira. Myla... I forget what she said her name was. I'm sure you remember though." He smiled insincerely at Jaymie, who did not remember.

Jaymie looked down again at the wavy dashes and loopy zeros and put the paper in his pocket. “Thanks, Aar. I appreciate you giving me this rather than impersonating me, going on a date with that beautiful woman, marrying her, and living a lie for the rest of your life.”

“As you would have done to—”

“As I would have done to you.”

***

The Bukowskis, exhausted and suffering from their post-show adrenaline slump, got the last of their gear in place. Once everything was Tetris-packed into the van, Rex drove them back to the large house where the three siblings lived and jammed. Rex didn't ask about the missing body, trusting that someone would explain everything once they got home.

They left their equipment in its cases in the front hallway, to be unpacked and put away in the morning. Jo drank a large glass of water and dug for her car keys while Jaymie lit his last cigarette of the night. Aaron broke the silence.

"This was the last one, Jay. It's dangerous and it's tiring. And I told you, I'm busy. I'm going back to school."

Rex tensed. As much as they wanted both of their brothers to be happy, it seemed simple and obvious to Rex that they should all be in a band together. Rex also knew that sometimes, when you've been too anxious for too long, it became easy to forget which things had the potential to make you happiest. They waited for Jaymie to put the issue to rest.

Jaymie tapped his cigarette into a dead petunia that had been hanging by the door since summertime. "Yeah, right," he said. "You'll be bored out of your mind. You'll hate it. You'll be miserable and anxious— they'll kick you out of Psychology 101 for compulsively drumming on your little lunch kit all day. You'll flunk Intro Logic because you won't be able to come up with a rationale for being there. You'll drop out of math once you put two and two together that you'd rather be—”

"I'm not taking math! Have you ever once asked me what I'd like to study? No, because you only think about yourself. It hasn't even crossed your mind that I'm a separate person and not just a duplicate of you provided to assist you in carrying out whatever stupid plans you've come up with. Maybe I want to take—biology! Or something like that...I don't know..." He trailed off helplessly.

"Biology? You're afraid of the woods! You're afraid of nature in general! You know what nature includes? Dogs! Stick with what you're comfortable with, Aaron."

"You think I'm comfortable with this?" Aaron had started breathing heavily, and Rex hoped he was just working out some anger rather than initiating another panic attack.

"You know what?" said Jaymie. "I never asked you because I know you well enough that I don't need to. You'll drop out, and—"

"Fuck you! I'm leaving. I don't need this."

"Leaving! Where the hell are you going to go?" Jaymie, finally showing the first signs of losing his composure, gesticulated with his cigarette, an expression of irritation and alarm crossing his face.

"To bed, Jaymie! It's fucking three in the morning!"

"Oh. Okay, goodnight. Love you."

"Love you too goodnight." Aaron half-heartedly slammed the door behind him.

Jaymie stubbed out his cigarette and smiled contentedly at Jo and Rex. "Good show, friends! He'll come around. We're going on tour!"

***

Colin’s pumpkins hadn’t had enough time on the vine to reach the size Colin would have liked them to, and the sharpie logos drawn on them meant he had to discount them significantly. Still, all of the remaining twenty-two pumpkins sold at the next farmers market and went to new homes in plenty of time for Halloween.

The pumpkins missed Jaymie Brzezinski terribly. From kitchens and front porches, they reflected on their brief time with him, remembering the feel of his arms around their middles and his voice in the back seat of the car and his synthesizer weaving haunting melodies at them from the crowded living room. From 12:00 till 12:05 every night, each pumpkin could be heard quietly singing the Bukowskis’ opening song, and each, when carved into fearsome Jack-o-lanterns, mourned the concealment of their beautiful band logo and rotted immediately in protest.

The Bukowski Brothers’ Instagram page received nine new followers after the show and a mysterious twelve more after the farmers market. An uncle of someone who'd bought a pumpkin thought the logo was neat, and he looked them up and booked them for a show he was putting together in November at the Pyramid Cabaret. So, all in all, it could be considered a successful night.