Town in a Wild Moose Chase chm-3

by B. B. Haywood

  Candy was silent for a long time as she pondered the implications. Finally, she said softly, “It could be nothing… or it could be everything.”

  Thirty-One

  As Candy was headed out the door, Maggie put a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t go yet. You almost forgot the most important thing.”

  She ran off into her bedroom and emerged a few moments later with a slinky black dress on a hanger, covered with plastic wrapping. “I found this for you. It’s your size and it should make you look beautiful. And here.” Maggie handed her a long, black velvet jewelry case. “My pearls and earrings. Ed gave them to me years ago for our tenth anniversary. We were happy for a while, you know,” she said wistfully. “Cost him a month’s wages, if I remember correctly. I felt like a queen when I wore them. I thought they’d look spectacular on you tonight.”

  Candy accepted the dress and jewelry box, and gave Maggie a tight hug. “Thanks for helping me with this.”

  “Honey, it’s my pleasure.”

  “Hey, you know you’re always welcome to come along with me, right? I’m not quite sure where I’m headed next, or what I’ll find when I get there, but no matter what it is, I can always use your help.”

  “Of course you could.” Maggie patted her affectionately on the shoulder. “And I’d love to go tramping off with you into the snowy woods or fields or wherever you’re off to. I really would. And you know I’ve always got your back, whenever you need me. But I have a hair appointment in forty-five minutes. Sheila managed to squeeze me in this afternoon. I was lucky to get the slot. She’s booked up tight all day. The Moose Fest Ball, you know.”

  “You found a date?” Candy asked happily.

  “I did!”

  “Who is it?”

  “Well, you’ll just have to wait and see. I guarantee you, it’ll surprise everyone! In fact, the whole thing was a surprise. He came into the cleaner’s this afternoon, we got to talking, and, well, one thing led to another.”

  “Sure you don’t want to keep the pearls and wear them tonight?” Candy asked, indicating the jewelry box she held. “It’s not too late to change your mind.”

  “I’m going a different direction,” Maggie said. “You’ll see. I found the perfect ensemble.…”

  Back outside, Candy carefully laid the black dress on the backseat, slipped the black velvet jewelry box into the glove compartment, and fired up the Jeep. Putting it into gear, she headed back out toward the Coastal Loop, also known as Route 192. At the stoplight, instead of heading back toward Blueberry Acres, she flicked on her signal and turned right, powering northward out of Cape Willington.

  The road was wet from the snowfall, though the heavy traffic headed into and out of town kept it worn down to mostly clear pavement. Still, there was always the possibility of an icy patch, so she stayed under the speed limit and remained watchful as the wintertime scenery slipped past her.

  The woods of Cape Willington lined the road as she drove north, although there were plenty of places along the way where someone had carved out a half acre of land or so and built a house. There were a number of historic houses along this road, old capes, cabins, and farmhouses, dating back to the earlier years of the previous century. There were barns as well, some leaning so treacherously under thick blankets of snow that they should have been condemned. But still they stood, their ancient skeletal frames refusing to give way to the onslaught of winter, or any other season, for that matter.

  After a few miles she came to a filling station on the left with a small store attached, and a few hundred yards beyond that was the entrance to the motel’s parking lot.

  She’d seen the Shangri-La plenty of times before as she drove up and down this road but rarely paid it any attention. It was a nondescript building, with a low roof, long overhanging eaves, and a stepped construction that took the long line of rooms up a rising slope toward the woods behind it. At the back end of the property was a perpendicular row of rooms, so the building formed a long, drawn-out L shape. It was painted brick red with white-framed windows, now frosted from the weather. Out front, a terribly dated neon sign glowed morosely in the overcast day.

  Candy eyed the place suspiciously through the windshield, wondering if this was a smart move. She could easily just turn around and head home. Still, she knew she had to check the place out. She had no idea what she was looking for here—but she also had a feeling she’d know it when she saw it.

  Putting on her left turn signal, she eased into the motel’s parking lot, driving past the office and up the slight incline toward the rooms at the back of the property. A row of high pine trees rose up on the back side of the building, framing it like something out of a postcard. There were only a few cars in the parking lot at this time of day, and she saw no one about. She wheeled the Jeep into a parking spot halfway along the building, in front of room number ten, shut off the Jeep’s engine, and climbed out.

  The day had grown damper and colder with the approaching weather, and Candy huddled down into her fleece jacket. She stood for a moment looking both ways, toward the office at the front of the building, and to the far end, toward the woods at the back of the property.

  Despite the fact that the front of the building was so close to the road, it was fairly quiet back here, where the sounds of traffic were muted by the snow cover. She could hear the slight wind rustling through the pines behind the building and the call of a lone crow overhead, flapping past.

  She started walking uphill, toward the back of the property. She passed a few cars, and a few rooms that looked occupied. She could hear the sound of a TV coming from one of the rooms, voices in another. Somewhere behind her, a door opened and closed as the occupant emerged from one of the rooms and walked down toward the office. Candy turned to watch him go, but he never noticed her.

  When she reached the end of the row at room number sixteen, she came to a stop. Four more rooms angled off to her right, forming the cross arm of the L. Twenty rooms total.

  She studied it all, her gaze shifting about as she focused in on the details around her, but she saw nothing out of the ordinary, nothing that could provide a clue or tell her if anything pertinent, relevant, or even vaguely interesting had happened here.

  She frowned and shook her head. “Well, I guess this was just a wild goose chase,” she said to herself. Resigned to the fact that she’d encountered a dead end, she turned to head back to the Jeep.

  The sign on the far side of the parking lot caught her eye suddenly, as if it had practically leapt into her field of vision. It was a low wooden affair with some text and red numbers painted on it. To Rooms 21–24 it read, and beneath that a red arrow pointed back toward the woods.

  Candy felt her heartbeat quicken.

  She noticed it now, a narrow paved road headed around the side of the building. She’d initially thought it was just a service road, perhaps for maintenance vehicles.

  Apparently there were a few more rooms behind the main building.

  She glanced toward the front of the motel. Not a soul in sight.

  Trying her best to look as if she belonged here, she meandered around the corner of the building, following the narrow road, which led to a small back parking lot.

  The lot was empty except for a single car. A Honda, Candy saw. She scanned the room numbers on the doors.

  It was parked in front of room twenty-three.

  She stopped and looked around.

  She was all alone here, out of sight of anyone who might happen to be walking to or from the motel’s office or main building. But rather than feel safe from prying eyes, she felt strangely vulnerable, though at first she didn’t know why.

  It took a few moments for all the pieces to click into place, and for the magnitude of what she was seeing to register in her mind.

  The Honda Pilot SUV had a black roof rack and a sporty exterior upgrade with flared fenders and black side runners—the type of vehicle a guy like Victor Templeton might drive.

  Parked in front of room
number twenty-three—the same number Elizabeth Foxwell had seen in her vision.

  Coincidence? Candy shook her head. She didn’t know.

  Whatever the explanation, she had to have a quick look.

  As casually as possible, she strode forward, past the door with the number twenty-three on it. The curtains were closed tight on the room’s single window, making it impossible to see inside. She lingered for the briefest of moments in front of the door, cocking her ear, straining to hear a voice from inside or the sound of a TV or anything to indicate the room might be occupied. But she heard nothing.

  She continued on, walking to the end of the row. There were three other rooms here, but the others seemed unoccupied, for their curtains were open, and she could see into their dark interiors. She had no idea whether room twenty-three was occupied or not.

  There was an easy way to find out. She could just knock on the door and make up an excuse if someone actually opened up. She considered that idea as she crossed to the Honda SUV. It was steel blue in color, though it needed a good washing. Crusts of black ice and salt clung to its undercarriage and wheel wells, and a layer of snow covered the roof and windshield.

  Now that she noticed it, banks of snow had blown up against the tires on one side, making it look as if the car hadn’t been moved in a while. Perhaps for several days.

  That would fit, she thought. This could be Victor’s car.

  She looked in the vehicle’s window, but there was not much to see. A standard blue and beige interior, with fabric seats and a plastic dash. She noticed two take-out coffee cups in the front holders between the seats, as well as sunglasses, CDs, and other items like a tire gauge. In the backseat were a few jackets, books, travel maps, and a red scarf with gold tassels.

  Candy turned all the way around until she faced the woods, looking away from the building. Which way am I facing? she wondered. Was Blueberry Acres somewhere behind here? And where was Solomon’s place from her current location?

  She unzipped her jacket and felt around her inside pocket until she found the compass Ben had given her. She pulled it out, flipped open the cover, and waited until the needle settled down to focus in on it.

  The red end of the needle pointed toward her right shoulder. North. She turned and looked in that direction, at an angle up across Route 192 and beyond.

  She turned back around, facing out behind the motel. That meant west was vaguely to her right, and south was to her left. Or to be more accurate, she was presently facing south-southwest, approximately.

  And Blueberry Acres lay in which direction?

  Off to her left somewhere, she surmised, to the south or southeast.

  And how far away was the farm from here? Most of the way across the Cape. A few miles, perhaps? More or less?

  She thought of the missing toboggan. Why would someone borrow it, only to return it a few hours later?

  She turned and looked back at the room.

  I need to get a look inside, she thought.

  On an impulse, she walked up to the door and knocked. She figured if anyone answered, she’d just make something up off the top of her head.

  She waited. Nothing.

  She knocked again.

  She moved over to the window and knocked on the cold glass, trying to peer inside to see if she could spot any movement.

  It was no use. The place was buttoned up tight and apparently vacant.

  She tried the doorknob. It was locked.

  There was no pad or slot for an electronic key card, she noticed. Instead, the doorknob had a simple well-used keyhole.

  She appeared to be in the right spot. Victor must have been here at some point over the past few days.

  What might he have left behind?

  She decided to try the office. Maybe she could figure out a way to get another key so she could inspect the room—maybe she would tell the person behind the counter that she was Victor’s sister or cousin or something like that.

  She was just coming around the corner of the building, heading into the main parking lot, when she saw a police car bearing the insignia of the Cape Willington Police Department pull into the driveway in front of the motel’s office.

  The vehicle came to a halt, and a few moments later, Officer Jody McCroy stepped out from the driver’s seat.

  Thirty-Two

  As quickly and as casually as possible, so as not to draw attention to herself, Candy turned around and slipped back around the corner of the building.

  Officer Jody? What the heck is he doing here?

  At first she felt a deep flash of paranoia, thinking he’d come for her, but a few moments later she worked out the most likely reason for his sudden appearance.

  They’d figured it out. The police had traced the hotel room key to the Shangri-La, just as she’d done. Chief Durr must have sent Officer McCroy to investigate.

  More than likely he had the key with him. He’d be able to show it to the person behind the check-in counter. Would they recognize it? Would they point him back to room twenty-three?

  And here she was, standing right next to what very well could be Victor Templeton’s car, and in front of a room he’d likely stayed in.

  She was trapped.

  She’d be in a heap of trouble if Officer McCroy discovered her here, especially after the repeated warnings she’d received from Chief Durr—and her own promise to stay out of the investigation.

  “Candy, what have you done?” she chided herself. She felt a moment of panic but forced herself to stay calm. “Just think. You can get out of this if you stay cool and figure it out.”

  After waiting for her rapidly beating heart to slow down, she edged up to the corner of the building and chanced a look around it.

  Officer McCroy was just walking into the office. His back was to her as he approached an older woman behind the counter and began to talk to her, gesturing back toward the motel rooms.

  His attention was focused in a different direction. If she was going to do something, now was the time, before he headed in her direction and completely cut off any avenue of escape.

  Before she had time to think about what she was doing, she made her move.

  She stayed close to the side of the building, turning right and right again along the four rooms that made up the short end of the building’s L shape, before angling left toward her teal-colored, easily identifiable Jeep. It was parked right in front of her, outside room number ten, near the center of the building. Fortunately, a beige-colored family van was parked a few spaces away on the other side, closer to the front of the motel. There was a good chance it had shielded the Jeep from Officer McCroy’s view as he’d stepped out of his vehicle and made his way to the office.

  Whether she could make it out of the lot without getting noticed, well, that was a different matter.

  She fished the keys out of her pocket and climbed inside, glancing anxiously toward the office as she started the engine. It sputtered to life.

  She put the transmission into reverse but kept her foot on the brake pedal. She knew she didn’t have much time. In a matter of minutes, or seconds, Officer McCroy would come walking out of the office and head straight up the slope toward her. There’d be no way to hide from him then, and she’d have some explaining to do. She hadn’t broken any laws—at least, she didn’t think so—but she’d have the book thrown at her nonetheless.

  It wasn’t a pleasant thought. Not in the least. So it was best to get out of Dodge while the getting was good.

  Still, she hesitated, waiting for the right moment. And as luck would have it, the right moment showed up sooner than she’d hoped.

  A large Ford SUV came down the road, slowed, and turned into the motel’s parking lot, where it crept along toward the office as the occupants of the vehicle peered about. It was a husband and wife, Candy could see, and they were trying to determine whether this was a good place to stop.

  Candy used their indecision to her advantage. Pulling on her seat belt and checking over he
r shoulder, she backed up, shifted gears, and drove toward the front of the motel, staying to the left side of the parking lot and the SUV. This put it between her and the office, blocking the view of anyone who might look out and see her as she drove past.

  She timed it as well as she could, passing by the office on the far side of the SUV. It might be enough, she hoped, to make a clean getaway.

  As she reached the street, she cast a quick glance over her right shoulder. Officer McCroy was still talking to the woman behind the counter, who was gesturing toward the rear of the building. He took a few steps to his side and peered out the office window, back toward room twenty-three and the spot where Candy had been sitting just a few moments earlier.

  At the bottom of the parking lot she braked, carefully double-checked in both directions, turned the steering wheel to the right, and accelerated down the road toward Cape Willington, apparently unseen.

  She was a good mile or two away when she finally let out her breath.

  “Candy Holliday,” she said with a shake of her head, “you’ve got to stop doing that to yourself.”

  Thirty-Three

  “There,” Doc said as he finally managed to secure the clasp behind her neck, after several noble yet frustrating attempts. He patted her shoulders affectionately, gave her a kiss on the side of her head, and stepped away. “Let’s see how that looks.”

  She gently let her hair back down and felt for the string of pearls around her neck before dropping her hands to her sides and turning to face him. “So, do I look fancy enough for the ball?” she asked her father, somewhat facetiously.