And, on the far shore, stood the low buildings of Cape Willington, with its twin lighthouses, the mouth of the English River, and Pruitt Manor clearly visible.
“It’s magnificent, isn’t it?” Herr Georg said as he joined her.
“I’ve never been out here before. I didn’t realize what an amazing view it has of the town.”
“Yes, well, if you wanted to keep a close eye on the comings and goings in our little village, you could do so easily from here—with the help of a good telescope, perhaps.”
“Or a pair of binoculars,” Candy said thoughtfully. She turned to scan the property again, wondering what Julius might have been observing, but nothing jumped out at her.
Finally, she started back toward the house. “Let’s see if anyone’s home.”
Not surprisingly, given the absence of vehicles out front, their knocks on the front door went unanswered.
“Should we have a look around back?” Candy wondered.
“I had intended to do that this morning when I was out here,” Herr Georg said, “but I never had a chance.”
“Well, we have a chance now.”
The baker flashed her a smile and made a motion with his hand. “After you, detective.”
Candy was amused by his comment but said nothing. And despite his suggestion, she didn’t start off immediately. Instead, she hesitated as she craned her neck out so she could see as far around the side of the house as possible. “Okay, just . . . keep an eye out.”
“I assure you, I will be doing exactly that.”
Together they headed off, their shoes crunching on the gravel as they rounded the side of the house, following the lane that looped around the building. The wind had been gustier out in front but here it died down. It was as if the house and trees were serving as a sort of windbreak. The sounds of the boats and the sea ebbed as well, muted by the foliage.
The lane widened again at the back of the house, and Candy saw a large carriage house with a two-stall garage, a side building that looked like it might be a workshop, a separate storage building, and a gardening shed, surrounded by piles of empty clay pots and a weather-beaten wheelbarrow.
No cars. No people. Nothing out of the ordinary.
Candy looked out through the trees, behind the outbuildings, and thought she saw some blue back there. “We’re close to the point,” she said. “The ocean isn’t too far in that direction.”
She spotted a dirt path that meandered off through the trees. It appeared to lead to the right, toward the headland. It made sense, she thought. There was probably a spectacular view in that direction as well, off to the south and southeast.
Oddly, the path looked churned up, as if it had been trodden on recently.
Crossing her arms in thought, Candy moved in closer for a better look. That’s when she spotted the footprint.
It looked fairly fresh, though she was no real judge of these sorts of things.
She saw another one a little farther on.
“Someone’s been along here recently,” she said, pointing.
Herr Georg was right behind her. He saw the footprints as well. “Maybe it was just Marshall Bosworth checking out the property, or a gardener, or something like that.”
“Maybe,” Candy said. “Did you notice what kind of shoes Marshall was wearing when you saw him this morning?”
“Shoes? No, not really.”
“He was dressed up, right? Business attire?”
“Yes, that’s correct.”
“Then we can assume he was wearing some type of dress shoes, and not sneakers, right?”
The baker nodded, and Candy pointed again. “These footprints have a pattern, like on the bottoms of sneakers. Dress shoes are usually smooth on the bottom, with no patterns.” Her gaze intensified as her head shifted and her eyes followed the dirt path.
“Let’s see where this leads.”
THIRTY-FOUR
At first, it seemed, the trail led only to the water’s edge—though it was quite a magnificent edge.
They stopped a few feet from the craggy drop-off and learned forward as far as they dared, peering cautiously down to the sea far below, where the waves slapped sometimes gently, sometimes violently against unforgiving black rocks, often creating deep gurgling thuds they could hear up top.
The land curved away from them on both sides, disappearing to the north on their left and to the west on their right. The ocean stretched away to the south, and they could see the faint outlines of hazy islands to the south and west. Far out on the horizon, a tanker ship plowed through the relatively calm waters, a mere rusty smudge balanced on the fine, nearly indistinct line that separated sea from sky.
For several long moments they both studied the panorama, until Herr Georg finally doffed his hat, scratched absently at his head, and said, “Nothing down there.”
“No, it appears not.”
They dawdled a little longer, hesitant to leave, taking a last long look, and were just about to turn back when another gurgling burp echoed up toward them along the rocky face.
“What was that?” Candy asked.
Herr Georg wasn’t quite sure what she meant. “What was what?”
“That sound.”
The baker took a step closer to the edge and stretched his neck to look down over the side. “The waves? Hitting the rocks?”
“Yes, but that hollow sound.” She turned toward him. “You’ve been to Thunder Hole over on Mount Desert Island, right?”
“Yes, though it’s been a few years.”
“It’s a long, narrow, natural inlet in the rock,” Candy said. “When the waves come in there at some speed they say it sounds like clapping thunder.”
“Yes, but . . .” Herr Georg inched a little closer to the edge and listened.
There it was again, sonorous and intermittent, like large bubbles emerging and popping out of the ocean, different from the rest of the sounds made by the slapping waves.
The baker retreated a few steps before he turned toward her. “What do you think it is?”
Candy shook her head. “I don’t know for sure, but if I had to guess, I’d say it’s that cave Lucinda mentioned—the one the smugglers used to use.”
The baker’s face was a mixture of curiosity and wariness. “Could it be?”
And she spoke the words that were lurking in both their minds. “Foul Mouth,” she said.
“Down there?” He pointed in an animated fashion, as if horrified by the fact that she actually might want to check it out.
“Whatever it is, there’s something below us, down among the rocks.” She looked up and around, checking the sky to the east. “Sunset today is around a quarter to eight, I think. We still have some light left, though it could be dark if we’re going into a cave.” Another pause as she glanced at the baker. “You don’t happen to have a flashlight in the car, do you?”
“As a matter of fact, I have two in the back. I always like to be prepared.”
“Just like a Boy Scout, right?”
His grin returned, and the gap between his front teeth. “I was a bit of an explorer in my youth, and yes, I’ve been into a few caves.” Again he looked over the edge. “Not one as hard to get to as that place down there, though. Do you really think it’s possible to reach it?”
“There must be a way,” Candy said. “Why don’t you grab the flashlights and I’ll have a look around. I just wish I’d brought my boots.”
The baker waggled a finger at her. “Ah, see, it pays to be prepared! I might have an extra pair of rubber winter boots in the car too. I’ll see what I can find.”
Less than ten minutes later they regrouped, Herr Georg carrying a black backpack on his shoulder.
“There does seem to be a way down of some sort, over in that direction”—Candy pointed to her left—“though I’m not sure how
safe it is. We’ll have to exercise the utmost care if we’re going to attempt this. We don’t want the groom to have to limp down the aisle on a twisted ankle—or a broken leg.”
“Or the maid of honor!” he responded. “Step carefully then. And as always, I’ll follow your lead, my brave blueberry farmer!”
Again, Candy smiled. She was glad he’d come along. She would never have attempted something like this alone, and she honestly wasn’t sure it was wise to do it with someone. But they were trying to solve a murder, and she knew they needed to follow up on this possibly important discovery.
She led him to a spot she’d scoped out earlier. It was a cleft in the cliff wall, a narrow but not too deep gash that carved a more gently sloping path down off the top. The cleft was rock strewn and cluttered with some low vegetation and small, hardy, knobby-branched trees, bent to sharp angles by the fierce winds off the sea. It gave them something to cling to as they cautiously began their descent.
It was slow going. Candy went first, taking great care where she put her feet. Herr Georg followed right behind, in her footsteps. Once or twice she misplaced her footing and slipped, sending down a cascade of rocks and pebbles that disappeared over the side. Fortunately she was able to find a handhold on a tree or clump of weeds to keep her from sliding farther down. At those times she’d glance back up at the baker, to gauge his demeanor, but he seemed to be holding steady so far, so she went on.
Slowly and safely, they moved farther down the cleft, until it came to an end. From there, they spotted a narrow ledge that ran along the cliff face, sloping gently downward, so they continued their trek in that direction. It led them to a series of steps, which seemed to almost have been cut by human hands, though she supposed some of them could have been natural, and those led them down close to the water’s edge.
Here they stopped and surveyed the landscape. The hollow gurgling was louder now, close by, but Candy still couldn’t quite see the source, hidden behind an outcropping of rock. Somehow, she thought, we have to get around that.
Behind her, Herr Georg was breathing heavily from the descent, but when she looked back at him, he seemed exhilarated and as game as ever, with the backpack now looped over both shoulders to make it easier to carry. “Okay,” he said, brushing some dust off his pants, “where next?”
She pointed ahead. “The way is blocked. We’ve got to get beyond those rocks.”
It was the baker who discovered the solution. “Up this way,” he said, pointing and heading off on his own, back up the slope a little. “I think we can get across here.”
The baker removed the backpack and tossed it upward, then scrabbled partway up a steep escarpment, finding handholds and footholds in the face of the rock, pulling himself upward with some effort, until he reached an arching plateau, across which he started moving laterally. He stopped only briefly to retrieve the backpack and wave to Candy. “Come on, I think we’re almost there!”
And he was right. The rock archway they followed led them across the cliff face and up over the area where the hollow, intermittent belches were coming from.
“It’s right underneath us,” Herr Georg said when he was halfway across, pointing downward as they paused, but looking down they still could not see an opening in the rocks below.
“Lead on,” Candy said, and on the other side of the arch they found a narrow path down to the edge of the sea. There, they were rewarded for their efforts.
To their left was a low opening, partly flooded due to the oncoming waters, but a definite break in the cliff face, possibly leading into a cave of some sort. The rocks around it were rough but somewhat smoothed by the endless ocean, though there were still some jagged bits they’d have to watch out for. It looked, in some way, like the opening to the gates of hell.
“Foul Mouth,” Candy breathed.
They studied the uninviting opening for a few moments, until Herr Georg asked, “But how do we get in there?”
“The same way the smugglers did long ago. We walk.”
THIRTY-FIVE
The baker drew a face. His earlier enthusiasm seemed to quickly dissipate. “But we’ll get wet.”
“Yes, we will. There’s no other way.”
He took a deep breath and seemed to steel himself. “Very well, if we must do it to solve this mystery, then we must. But we should go in well equipped.”
He dropped the backpack down off his shoulder, zipped it open, and started pulling out the items he’d stuffed inside. There were two flashlights, two pairs of rubber boots, two pairs of old work gloves, a length of wound clothesline rope, which he shoved up onto his shoulder, and a pocketknife, which he slid into his pocket. “Just in case,” he said as he looked up at Candy.
The boots were big for Candy but they fit well enough over her sneakers. Herr Georg slipped on his, which reached to his calves, and tucked the cuffs of his pants inside. He’d clapped the Tyrolean hat down more firmly onto his head, and handed Candy a yellow ball cap with a food industry manufacturer’s logo on it. “I get these from time to time at conventions and such,” he said. “I have many of them. Keep this one.”
Candy nodded her thanks as she pulled on the gloves and hefted the flashlight, then studied the sky one more time before they entered Foul Mouth. She checked her watch. “We have only an hour or so of light left. And the tide will start to come in soon. We should stay inside no more than thirty minutes—or less.”
“Good point,” Herr Georg said as he flicked his wrist out of his sleeve. “Fortunately, I wore my diver’s watch today. I have it merely because I like the design, of course, since I’m not a diver myself. It’s a beautiful timepiece. And it’s waterproof, which makes it appropriate for today, and has a rotating bezel.” He turned the bezel to mark off a time period of twenty-five minutes. “Okay,” he said when they were all suited up, “I’m ready. Let’s go.”
Candy took the lead again, crawling down carefully, almost on her hands and knees, across the rocks toward the low opening just above the water’s surface. As she approached it, another tall wave came in and sloshed into the opening, narrowly missing her and creating that hollow gurgling sound they’d heard from above. It was louder here, and deeper in tone, and seemed to reverberate through her ribs.
She turned back to Herr Georg. “Keep an eye out and let me know if you see another one of those waves coming in,” she said.
He nodded. “I’ll give you as much fair warning as I can, if I can spot them.”
“That’s all I ask.” She felt she’d probably emerge from this adventure looking like a drowned rat, but there was no turning back now. Whatever happened, happened.
Cautiously she put a rubber-booted foot down on the bottom front lip of rock, the water sloshing over her foot. She ducked her head down low, held the flashlight out in front of her, and took a few tentative steps into Foul Mouth.
She knew instantly where the place got its name. There was a nose hair–curling stink coming from inside. It smelled like dead fish and rotting seaweed, with a heavy tinge of brine, and a few other unsavory things she preferred not to know about. She hesitated, wondering if she should go any farther. Maybe there were things inside she didn’t want to encounter—a critter of some sort, with big teeth and sharp claws. Or, worse, the ghost—or skeleton—of some old pirate left over from a previous era, also with big teeth and sharp claws.
Neither was a very comforting thought.
She went on.
As she took a few steps forward, the rock walls on either side closed in on her, compressing into a narrow, low tunnel.
She heard a shout from Herr Georg, who was still outside the cave, and a moment later a great wave of water washed over her, reaching almost to her waist and nearly pushing her off her feet. Her gloved left hand went out to the rock wall as she struggled to stay upright, and she heard the hollow gurgling sound behind her now, like some sort of sucking wound. Moments
later the water withdrew again, threatening to pull her back out with it, but she held on, and when the tunnel had once more dried out, more or less, she was soaked.
“Are you all right in there?” she heard the baker call to her.
“I’m okay,” she said, and took a quick peek behind her before she turned the flashlight forward again.
“I’m coming in!” the baker said, and the tunnel darkened as he dropped down into the opening behind her, blocking out the light. He caught up with her quickly, shining the beam of his flashlight into her face. “What is that horrid smell?”
“Dead things from the sea.”
“Delightful. Let’s hurry before the next wave arrives.”
And they did, moving quickly now, through the narrow gap and, within another dozen paces or so, into the dark, swelling cavern beyond.
Here they found a side ledge upon which to stand to get out of the way of the onrushing waters, and took a few moments to survey their surroundings.
It was larger than they expected, a high dome of glistening black rock, rancid seaweed hanging and clinging everywhere. It was under their feet, creating a sort of cushion upon which they stood. Candy held two fingers to her nose, pinching it and breathing through her mouth. “Hopefully it won’t be this bad farther inside.”
“Are we going farther inside?” Herr Georg asked, shining his flashlight around.
She didn’t know. She searched with her flashlight also, trying to determine their next step.
That’s when she spotted the blanket.
It was on a higher ledge, above them and to their left, along with an old green oil lantern and what looked like a discarded pair of sneakers, a jacket used as a makeshift pillow, a hat, empty crumpled bags of potato chips, a bottle or two of water, a few scattered food packages, and the remnants of a fire within a small circle of rocks.
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