Town In a Blueberrry Jam

by B. B. Haywood

  “I called him,” Cameron went on, the words tumbling out of him now as Candy glanced at Sebastian J. Quinn, then moved curiously toward the table. “I called him and told him I knew what he had done. I thought he was coming after us.”

  “Called him? Who’s coming after you?” Maggie asked, a touch of fear creeping into her voice.

  Cameron pointed, his eyes darkening eerily. “Him. He did it. He murdered my mother.”

  “He . . . he what?” Maggie gasped.

  “He did it, Mom,” Amanda piped in from where she stood near the doorway. “It’s true.”

  “I don’t understand.” Maggie looked hard at Cameron. “What are you talking about? Your mother’s not dead. She’s still alive. I talked to her just last week. How could he have killed her?”

  “Not that mother,” was Cameron’s answer.

  Maggie turned to her daughter, shaking her head, still not understanding. “Amanda? What the hell is going on?”

  Candy had reached the table now, and as her gaze swept across the papers on the table she suddenly realized what Cameron was saying. It all came rushing in, engulfing her like a wave, overpowering her, hitting her so hard and fast it almost hurt—all the missed clues, all the puzzle pieces that didn’t seem to fit, all the facts that had seemed so confusing but now became so clear.

  She spun toward Cameron, her eyes wide, her mouth falling open.

  She saw it now—the hair, the eyes, the posture—so like those of the man in the photo that rested on Sapphire’s piano, the man who stood beside the young Susan Jane Vincent, smiling easily, wearing a USM sweatshirt.

  Candy raised a trembling finger, pointing it at Cameron, shaking it a little as the words spilled out of her. “Oh my God! You’re Sapphire’s son!”

  THIRTY-TWO

  “What are you talking about?” Maggie looked at Candy as if her friend had gone daft.

  “That’s it! Don’t you see!” She jerked her finger wildly. “Sapphire Vine is his real mother.”

  “Whose real mother?”

  “Cameron’s! He’s her son. . . . Susan Jane Vincent’s son . . . aren’t you?”

  She had turned back to face the teenager, her finger still held out toward him, though after a moment she forced herself to lower it.

  In the stunned silence that followed, all eyes turned toward Cameron, who backed farther into the corner, seeking shadow, wary of the attention. Only his eyes shown out, bright and glistening in the muted light, mirroring his uneasiness.

  Maggie tilted her head as she looked at him, her face a cloud of confusion that slowly, inexorably gave way to realization. Her mouth fell open, and for a rare moment she was totally, utterly speechless.

  Even Sebastian appeared to be stunned. He sat stone still in the chair to which he was tied, studying the teenage boy with disbelieving eyes. Only Amanda seemed unfazed by the revelation, though she stood anxiously with her arms folded across her chest as she watched the others watch her boyfriend.

  For a moment all were still. The only sounds were the crashing of the waves and the howls of the building storm outside the walls. Then Maggie’s voice, trembling and uncertain, broke into the silence. “It can’t be. It’s not possible.”

  “It is, Mom. It’s true.” Amanda clutched her mother’s arm. “I didn’t believe it at first either, but Cameron told me all about it. Sapphire was his real mother.”

  “But how can that be?” Maggie looked as if she were about to collapse as her eyes found Cameron’s. “You’re so handsome and so smart and so nice! And—”

  She clamped a hand over her mouth when she saw the look on Cameron’s face. She instantly regretted her words. “Oh, Cameron, I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. It’s just that—”

  “I know what you meant, and you’re right.” He wavered a moment, as if he were about to tip over, then lowered the gun and let out a long breath. “I know what you’re thinking. I understand how you feel. I was shocked myself when I found out. But it’s the truth. I’ve seen the proof.”

  “But . . . how long have you known?”

  He shrugged, as Maggie had seen him do so many times before, and for a moment he was the old Cameron she had known since he was a child.

  “A few months now. She told me right after my eighteenth birthday.”

  As Maggie questioned Cameron, Candy was barely listening, for her mind was racing back through all that had happened over the past few days. She finally spoke up. “It all makes sense, in some strange way,” she said thoughtfully. “That’s why you were so upset at Gumm’s that day, isn’t it? That was the first time you heard of Sapphire’s death. Of course you were shocked.” She paused, still thinking. “And that’s why you were staying up in Sapphire’s attic.”

  Cameron cleared his throat, still shifting uneasily. “Yeah, I, um, stayed up there a few times. She liked to have me around. She said it made her happy, after being separated from me for so long. But I wasn’t crazy about it. I did it mostly for her.”

  “And that young man we saw in the photo on Sapphire’s piano, and in her photo album—that was your father, right?”

  “His name was David—David Squires,” Amanda explained. “He and Cameron’s mother were students together at USM.”

  “USM!” Candy slapped her forehead with the flat of her hand. “I should have seen the connection!”

  “What connection?” Maggie asked.

  “Don’t you remember?”

  “Remember what?” Maggie looked more confused than ever.

  “The night of the pageant. When Bertha Grayfire introduced the judges, she said that one of them had taught at USM—the University of Southern Maine.”

  “But that was . . .” Maggie’s voice trailed off as she thought it through. After a moment her gaze was drawn to the figure tied to a chair at the center of the room. “You don’t mean . . .?”

  Cameron nodded, his face pale. “That’s why I’m here . . . with this.” He nodded down toward the rifle. “And that’s why he’s tied up there. He killed her.”

  Candy shook her head. Much of what was going on was still so unclear. “But why? Why would he have killed her?”

  Cameron stared hard at Sebastian J. Quinn, who was slowly shaking his head, his eyes hard again, unemotional. “They were all there together, on the campus nineteen years ago,” Cameron said, the tension deep in his voice. “My father was getting his master’s degree in English lit with a specialty in poetry. Apparently he was a pretty good poet. And that man”—he nodded with his chin toward Sebastian J. Quinn—“was his faculty advisor.”

  Candy let out a breath of frustration. “And to think I never even opened his file! I was so distracted by what I had found out about Herr Georg that I barely checked up on anyone else.”

  “It’s all there.” Cameron indicated the file that lay open on the table. “I went through it over and over again this afternoon. I didn’t even know it existed until you found it in that filing cabinet last night. I stayed up in that attic a few times, but I never snooped around. I never knew what she had up there. But when you started digging around and found all those files I had to know what was in them.” Cameron’s gaze shifted back to Sebastian. “When I reached his file, I finally knew what had happened. My mom collected all sorts of information about him.”

  “What kind of information?” Maggie asked quietly. “What did he do?”

  Cameron’s face was a mask of uncertainty, as if he didn’t know where to begin—or didn’t know how to explain all that he knew. After a moment he nodded toward Sebastian. “Why don’t you ask him?”

  Candy’s eyes widened just a bit. On an impulse she crossed the room and removed Sebastian’s gag. “What did she have on you?” she asked him point blank.

  Sebastian let out a sputter of air as he strained at his bonds, attempting to rise to his feet. But Candy pushed him back down as everyone erupted at once, Cameron, Amanda, and Maggie all shouting warnings. “Just stay right where you are ’til we sort this out,” Candy told
him forcefully, crossing her arms and staring down at Sebastian. “I want the truth. Was she blackmailing you?”

  The words came out of Sebastian in a growl. “Of course she was blackmailing me—she has been for years. She was a witch—a cruel, totally heartless witch who stalked me for years and tried to squeeze every last dime out of me. I gave her everything I had, but that still wasn’t enough—she wanted more. She could never get enough. No matter what I did, she wouldn’t stop. She was crazy. And I’m glad—” He caught himself then, clamping his mouth shut as he cast a wary glance at Cameron, who stood motionless in the corner. “I . . . I’m sorry you had to hear that, kid, but it’s true,” Sebastian told him. “You can’t believe anything you saw in that file. Yes, I knew your father—and obviously your mother too. But no matter what you might think, I didn’t kill her. That’s the truth.”

  “Yes you did, you murderer!” Cameron shouted as his face contorted in sudden rage. Trembling, he raised the rifle as he came forward toward Sebastian, who stiffened in fear and shrieked, “No, don’t shoot, don’t shoot! I didn’t kill her! I swear!”

  Cameron brandished the weapon, but before he could do anything foolish, Candy and Maggie both intervened, hands out. “Cameron, calm down!” Candy shouted, positioning herself between Sebastian and the teen.

  “Put that rifle down!” Maggie insisted, her fury sharpening as she marched straight toward Cameron and jerked the weapon from his hands. “We’ll have no more of this, mister!” She turned abruptly and walked to Amanda, handing the rifle over to her. “Take this out to Candy’s car and lock it inside,” she instructed, and when Amanda started to protest, she added sharply, “Now!”

  Amanda complied. With the weapon gone and the situation neutralized, Maggie turned to Sebastian. “Now we’re going to call the police, and then we’re going to get to the bottom of this.”

  She turned and walked to the phone, but before she could pick up the receiver, Sebastian called out. “Wait! Wait!” He struggled against his bonds again, his frustration evident. “I can explain everything . . . just . . . no police.”

  Candy wheeled on him. “Why not? Talk fast, Sebastian, or I swear, I’ll get that rifle again and shoot you myself.”

  “Okay, okay, okay.” Properly chastised, Sebastian settled back in the chair, his fear gone and a strange grin coming to his face. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

  “You’d better. This is your last chance. Now, why was Sapphire blackmailing you? What did she have on you?”

  “I’ll tell you,” Sebastian said, “but you have to understand . . . Susan, um, Sapphire, and I had a long history together . . . we go way back . . . and yes, I hated her . . . and I suppose she hated me too . . . but despite all that, I didn’t kill her. You must believe that.”

  “We don’t know what to believe until you tell us what happened,” Maggie said testily, still standing near the phone, “and our patience has run out. Talk.”

  Sebastian settled back into his chair, apparently resigned to his fate. He sighed, turned his head first one direction, then the other, as if considering how to proceed. Finally he closed his eyes and leaned back his head, and then, almost imperceptively, he nodded. “All right. I’ll talk.”

  THIRTY-THREE

  “This whole thing goes back about eighteen years,” Sebastian began, “when we all were at the University of Southern Maine—myself and Sapphire—er, Susan—and David, Susan’s boyfriend . . . his father.” Sebastian nodded toward Cameron. “Susan and David were students in one of my English classes—I suppose that’s where they might have met, for I seem to recall they started the class as strangers, or at least as only casual acquaintances. I didn’t notice Susan much at first, but I certainly noticed David, almost immediately. He was a fairly decent poet—quite creative and passionate, though at times he could become too sentimental for my tastes. His writing was raw and undisciplined. Still, he showed incredible promise. . . .”

  “Until you killed him,” Cameron cut in.

  “That’s nonsense!” Sebastian replied firmly, his heavy brows falling together. “Utter nonsense. I don’t know where you heard that, but it’s just not true.”

  “You killed him for his poetry,” Cameron continued.

  “I did no such thing.”

  “You killed him and stole his poetry!”

  Sebastian gave a sarcastic laugh. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. You weren’t there. How could you know anything about what happened back then?”

  Cameron pointed toward the file on the desk. “It’s all in there. I’ve read it all. Do you want me to tell you what really happened?”

  Sebastian’s face hardened. “Very well. You have the floor, young man. Illuminate us.”

  “Okay. Okay, I will.” Cameron looked over for a moment as Amanda reentered the room. Outside, fierce gusts of wind were whipping the sea into a frenzied roar. Cameron glanced out at the darkness beyond the windows, gathering his thoughts, then turned his gaze back to Sebastian. “My mother and father met at USM, just like you said, though not in your class. They knew each other before that. They met at a freshman dance. He was a poor kid from Presque Isle, she was the daughter of a boat-builder from Bath. They were inseparable from the start—and from what I can tell, by the time they started your class, she was already pregnant—with me.”

  “Oh my God,” Maggie cut in. “That’s why Sapphire looked so happy in that photo! And so heavy. She wasn’t overweight. She was pregnant!”

  Cameron nodded sadly. “Yeah, she showed that photo to me. It was taken right before my father died.”

  “What happened to him?” Maggie asked softly.

  “I . . . I don’t know. She never told me—and there’s nothing in the file. . . .”

  Maggie gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. Candy only had to glance at her to know instantly what she was thinking, for the same realization had just come to her. “The obituary . . . the one we found in the book last night in Sapphire’s attic?”

  Maggie nodded, unable to speak.

  “What obituary?” Cameron asked.

  Briefly Candy explained, and Sebastian confirmed the story. “Your father died in a car accident. Drunk driver. I remember it well. A tragic affair.” He shook his head, then looked over at Candy. “You’ve seen the clipping?”

  “I have.” She glanced at Maggie. “We both have. Sapphire kept a copy of it stashed away.”

  “Then you know I’m telling the truth, right?”

  Candy said nothing, but after a moment she gave a faint nod. Sebastian let out a breath of air, while Cameron took this news with his lips pursed tight, his eyes glassy with emotion. Sebastian thought he still saw disbelief in those eyes. “I didn’t kill your father, kid,” he said again for emphasis. “It’s the truth, I tell you.”

  Cameron’s faced hardened again. “If you didn’t kill him, then why did you steal his poetry?”

  It took a long time for Sebastian to work around to answering that question. His jaws tightened and his brow furrowed as he weighed his options. But something inside him must have made him realize that it was time for the truth—all of it. “There was nothing calculated about it, if that’s what you’re thinking,” he began. “It just . . . happened. After your father died, your mother went into a deep depression. I watched it happen from a distance and even tried to intervene. But nothing could be done. She dropped out of school and I lost touch with her.”

  Cameron let out a breath and lowered his head. After a moment, he said, “She wound up in an institution in Portland and stayed there for six months. That’s where I was born, but she gave me up for adoption. That’s how I wound up with the Zimmermans.”

  “And what happened to your mother after that?” Candy asked.

  “I’m not really sure about everything that happened back then,” Cameron answered quietly, “but some time in the years after she left that place, she changed her name, started a new life, and tried to find out what happened to me. It took her
a few years, but she finally traced me here, to Cape Willington and the Zimmermans. That’s why she moved up here five years ago—so she could keep an eye on me, she said. The Zimmermans told me I was adopted but they never told me who my birth parents were. Now I know. She waited until my eighteenth birthday to tell me who she really was.”

  Cameron paused, looking back at Sebastian. “She also told me what you did.”

  “And what is that?” Sebastian asked defiantly.

  “Don’t pretend you don’t know. She told me all about it—how one day, years ago, she was browsing through a library in Portland and found a book of poetry with your name on it—Sebastian J. Quinn. She remembered you from USM, so she checked it out and read it that night. She was shocked. She knew almost immediately that the poems weren’t written by you, were they? They were all written by my father! You stole his poetry and published it under your own name!”

  At this accusation, Sebastian blubbered and shook his head in denial, his face growing red, while Candy and Maggie gasped in shock and Amanda nodded vigorously, as if to give affirmation to Cameron’s words. “It’s true,” she said, glaring at Sebastian. “He’s a thief.”

  “I am not a thief,” Sebastian said indignantly. “As I told you . . . it was not a calculated move. Somehow his papers got mixed up with mine. When I first came across them, I couldn’t remember writing them, so I set them aside. Later, when I was assembling a book of poetry, I discovered them again and spent some time reworking them. It was only later that I realized what had happened. By then it was too late. But I never regretted what happened. I know they were David’s poems, but without me they would have been lost forever. I gave them a voice and shared them with the world.”

  “Under your name,” Amanda pointed out.

  “That’s very true, Miss Tremont. But at the time I felt those poems were too good to go unpublished, and as far as I knew there was no one else in the world who cared about them. I tried but I could never locate David’s parents. Apparently after his death they had moved on. Susan—well, Susan was out of the picture by then. So I proceeded in the only way I thought possible. I spent a lot of time perfecting those poems, polishing them, assembling them in a book, promoting them. And yes, there were times I felt guilty about it. But after awhile the guilt faded. History is easily buried. Your father was dead, long forgotten, and your mother was . . . well . . .” His voice trailed off.