Playing with Bonbon Fire

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Playing with Bonbon Fire Page 25

by Dorothy St. James


  “Yeah, I heard,” he said as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Gibbons’s men picked me up and questioned me about my missing car and told me where it had been found. But they wouldn’t give me anything other than a few scant details about the crash. Was anyone hurt?”

  “Your car ran Bertie down,” I said. “She just got out of surgery on her leg.”

  Bubba cursed. The force of his words made him lose his balance. He staggered back several steps. “She’s going to be okay, though, isn’t she?”

  “I hope so. In the shop, she told me she was worried about the lighthouse. Do you know what that could have been about?” I asked.

  “Not a clue. I wish I did. I wish I understood what was going on here.”

  “How did you manage to find us? And where in the world have you been?” I asked, still feeling suspicious. Were Tina and I standing next to a killer? Had he been chasing poor Candy through the maritime forest with hopes of silencing her before she could talk to the authorities and tell them she wasn’t the one with the gun yesterday and wasn’t the one who’d been driving Bubba’s car?

  “You want to know what I’ve been doing today? I’ve been … I’ve been … Oh heck, I was out searching for the lost sheet music for ‘Camellia Nights.’ Bixby has been helping me, because he still wants to buy it. And we still are hoping we can sing the song at tonight’s concert.” He dragged a hand through his thinning gray hair. “I don’t know what’s going on in my town. Even at its worst, things have never been as bad as this.”

  “Really?” I said. “I think it’s time you started telling me about the last Summer Solstice Beach Music Festival and what happened back then that is causing all this trouble today.”

  Chapter 35

  Bubba kicked up a fuss, swearing up and down that Stan’s murder couldn’t have had anything to do with a concert that had happened forty-some years ago. “It simply couldn’t,” he insisted. His shoulders slumped after his fiery protests fizzled. His voice softened. “If bringing back the Summer Solstice Festival caused Stan’s death, that would mean I’m complicit. That would mean all of this is my fault.”

  I patted his shoulder. “You can’t blame yourself.”

  Tina rolled her eyes. She started to say something. But before she could get the words out, several worried-looking men burst through the trees and ran into the hidden cove.

  Apparently our screams had attracted the attention of quite a few families. No less than half a dozen men and women had found their way to the hidden cove to make sure we were okay. Tina and I thanked them profusely and asked them to keep an eye out for Candy, who clearly needed medical as well as psychiatric help. With that done, we all headed back toward where I’d parked my car.

  On the way, I called Chief Byrd to report Candy’s location. I knew I should have called Gibbons, but I didn’t want to listen to him scold me for poking around at the old abandoned lighthouse. Instead, I asked Chief Byrd to share that information with the county detective. He promised he would.

  I felt as if a huge weight had been lifted off my shoulders. The police would pick up Candy, and she’d get the help she desperately needed. And my shop would certainly be safer with her in custody.

  While I was on the phone, Tina texted Bixby. He immediately texted back that he’d join us at the pier in about ten minutes.

  Bubba climbed into an old truck he’d borrowed from a friend and followed as we drove back to the shop.

  “How did Bubba find us?” Tina asked as we drove toward the small downtown. “We didn’t tell anyone where we were going. We didn’t even know we were going to take that side trip to the cove.”

  “We’ll have to have to ask him,” I said as I steered my car into the first available parking space near the shop.

  “Is that safe?” she demanded. “Think about it, Penn. Candy was frightened. She said someone was chasing her. And the only other person in the woods besides us was Bubba.”

  “Number one, we don’t know that Bubba was the only person in the forest.” I opened the car door. “Number two, we still have two police officers standing guard over the shop right now. Only an idiot would try anything with them around.”

  The area around the Chocolate Box was more crowded than I’d expected. Bubba’s car sitting in the middle of my wrecked shop had turned into a popular photo spot.

  The police had their hands full keeping the gawkers at bay.

  I called out to them as we approached. “Your engineer just left,” the officer Tina had charmed into putting away her groceries rushed over to tell us. “She said the building’s bones look fine.”

  “That’s a relief.” The impact of that tiny piece of good news on my mood surprised me.

  “A wrecker is on its way to haul off the car.” He pointed to Bubba’s red sedan. “As soon as the car is gone, you’ll be able to go back into the shop.’

  “Good. Good.” I suddenly felt as if I could tackle anything else that might come my way. “I still have the boards for the windows. Tina, how are you with a hammer?”

  “Never needed to use one,” she admitted. She then batted her gorgeous large eyes in the police officer’s direction. Before I knew it, he’d volunteered himself and the rest of the officers to put up the boards for us.

  “There you are,” Bubba said as he caught up to us. He was breathing hard. His gigantic body swayed with each step. His tree-trunk-sized arms swung at his sides. I couldn’t help but think that if he wanted to kill a man, he could easily do it bare-handed. But Tina was wrong. He wasn’t a killer.

  “I’m awfully sorry for this, Penn.” He shook his head like a sorrowful hound dog. “Awfully, awfully sorry.”

  “Were you the one driving the car?” I asked. Tina crossed her arms and took a warrior’s stance next to me.

  “No, of course I wouldn’t have driven my car into your shop. I loved that car.” His brows furrowed. “But I should have been more careful with my car keys and phone. I’d left them out on the kitchen counter at the beach rental. Anyone could have wandered in from the street and taken them.”

  “If that’s true, how did you find us at the hidden cove?” Tina demanded.

  “Dumb luck. Yes, I wanted to find your sister, but as I already told you, I was searching for the missing sheet music. Arthur Jenkins told me that when he and his fiancée were picnicking over near the cove this afternoon, they heard some boys singing beach music. He said it was a catchy tune and sang the ‘three times three’ refrain from ‘Camellia Nights.’ After hearing that, I ran straight over there to see if I could find the boys.”

  “Boys? How did some boys get their hands on the stolen song?” I asked. “And what were they doing with it over near the lighthouse?”

  Bertie had been worried about the lighthouse? Had Mr. Jenkins told her about hearing the boys singing out there as well? Was that why she’d wanted me to go there? I wished she had trusted us to help her with whatever investigation she’d been conducting.

  “I don’t know what those boys were doing, or even if they had my song,” Bubba said. “Why would anyone want to steal it in the first place?”

  “Candy would, because it was something Bixby wanted,” I said, though I didn’t really believe it.

  “If that’s so, why is she trying to hurt the remaining band members? Why is she only targeting The Embers? After all, Bixby also sang with the Ocean Waves,” Tina asked as I started leading everyone toward the pier.

  “Someone wants to hurt the band members?” Bubba gasped. “Nah, that doesn’t sound right.”

  “Unfortunately, it does when you look at everything that has happened so far.” I started listing the events that had brought us here: Stan’s murder, Bubba’s getting set adrift at sea, the missing song, the exploding grill, the shooting, and Bubba’s car careening through the front of my shop.

  By the time I’d finished, we’d reached the base of the pier. It was getting close to seven o’clock, but since today happened to be the longest day of the year, sunset wouldn’t ta
ke place until closer to ten o’clock. The concert was scheduled to start at eight. There were two opening acts before The Embers, so Bubba’s band wouldn’t have to be onstage until a little after dark.

  Even though we had plenty of time, I still needed to make sure we were going to have a headlining act.

  Bubba continued to shake his head in disbelief that anyone would want to hurt him. “I make it a point to never disagree with a beautiful lady, but I’m having a devil of a time believing what you’re telling me. It has to be something else.”

  “Drugs, perhaps?” I said, desperately hoping we could let the police wrap up Stan’s murder and everything else in Candy’s crazy little bow. “Candy told us just now that she is a small-time drug dealer.”

  “She didn’t actually say that,” Tina corrected. Though she was technically right, the bag of pills in my purse suggested otherwise.

  “A drug deal gone wrong sounds more plausible than some plot to kill off members of a long-forgotten singing group,” Bubba said. “No one gives two licks about The Embers. Sure, the older locals are excited to relive a piece of their youth by hearing us sing. Other than that, I can’t imagine why anyone would get their panties in a wad over our reunion.”

  “Stan didn’t want you to sing,” Tina reminded him. “I heard that the two of you almost came to blows over it.”

  “Stan’s dead,” Bubba was quick to point out. The way he said it, as if the man’s death were a personal victory, made me uncomfortable. But then Bubba flashed that toothy smile of his. “Come on, Penn. Don’t look so glum. You know the police will sort it all out. In the end, you’ll see, things are never as complicated as they seem. We’ll find the misplaced song and the police will catch that crazy Candy girl. I agree with you. Her erratic behavior has drugs written all over it.”

  “Does that mean you’re willing to sing tonight?” I asked.

  “Heck, yeah. You’d have to tie me up with a rope to stop me.” Which meant I had at least one performer for our grand finale—as long as the police didn’t change their minds and arrest him first. “Now I just need to get confirmation from Fox, Alvin, and Bixby that they’re willing to sing as well.”

  “Can’t speak for Bixby,” he said. “But Fox and Alvin will do it. They always come through for me.”

  As the three of us climbed the steps of the pier, Tina texted Bixby to find out where we could meet up with him.

  The entire area buzzed with excited activity. Workers were preparing the bandstand. Tourists crowded around vendors’ booths, buying concert memorabilia. Security officers and police officers prowled the pier like swarms of army ants, alert for any sign of trouble.

  Residents from the Pink Pelican Inn had made the foot of the pier their living room for the weekend, setting out chairs and tables and game boards. Many of them congratulated me on how well it’d been going. They all seemed to be enjoying themselves immensely. Upon seeing that, despite tonight’s uncertain success, I smiled.

  “How did the proposal go?” I asked Arthur Jenkins when I spotted him seated in an armchair that belonged in the inn’s lobby.

  “She said yes!” he crowed, his entire face beaming. “I think it was your delectable chocolate-covered cherries that did the trick.”

  I tossed my arms around his neck and gave him an impromptu hug that surprised even me. “Where is the happy lady? I want to congratulate her.”

  “Taking surfing lessons.” He nodded toward the water. Several silver-haired ladies were gathered around a buff, darkly tanned surfer who had his hand on a stack of beginner foam surfboards.

  “Where do I sign up?” Tina asked as she leaned precariously over the railing to get a closer look at the instructor.

  “That’s what all the women say,” Arthur complained.

  Bubba stayed to talk with Arthur while I hooked my arm with Tina’s. “Come on. We don’t have time to ogle the locals.”

  “Speak for yourself.” She batted my hands away. “You already have a surfer.”

  “A surfer who is my lawyer and friend. Look, there’s Ezell. You can stay here. I need to talk to him about Tom.”

  Tina stayed at the railing only a few moments longer. I supposed she stayed to prove that no one could pull her away from a good-looking man, not even her sister.

  She caught up to me as I approached Ezell’s booth. The cellophane bags of melted chocolate lumps wrapped in pretty patriotic ribbons were still on the table.

  “I’m just about fit to be tied thanks to that boy,” Ezell blurted when I tried to stick up for young Tom. “He let all your chocolates melt and then went off to who knows where. He was supposed to be back at the booth to help me more than half an hour ago. Let me tell you, he can’t pull stunts like this with members of the legislature. He’ll lose all standing.”

  “He’s only eleven,” I tried to gently remind him.

  “He turned twelve last month,” he snapped. “It’s high time that boy got his act together. He has his future to think about. Last fall he failed to win class president at his school because he didn’t put enough effort into his campaign. He didn’t shake enough hands. He didn’t make enough friends.”

  I was glad Tom wasn’t around. Clearly, Ezell needed to stop projecting his own worries about the senate race onto his young nephew.

  I put my hand on his sleeve. “I’m sure that after watching how you run your campaign this summer, he’ll do much better next time. After all, how many boys his age get to help our next senator run for office?”

  My faith that he would win seemed to appease him. He patted my hand. “You’re right, Penn. I do wish he had put those chocolates in the cooler, though. He knew better. I’d told him and told him to—”

  “Penn! Bubba told me that you confronted Candy,” Bixby interrupted. I barely recognized the superstar. He was dressed like a slob again. A hat was pulled low on his head. A few feet away from him stood four men, dressed casually enough, but their stiff-legged stances and roaming gazes pegged them as members of his security force. “Did she say anything about taking that song Stan wrote?”

  Ezell didn’t seem to mind that Bixby had butted into the conversation. He plastered his sleek politician’s grin onto his face and stepped forward to shake Bixby’s hand. Bixby and Ezell exchanged brief pleasantries before Bixby turned back to Tina and me. “Well?” he pressed. “Did she mention the song?”

  “I didn’t think to ask her about it,” I said.

  Bixby’s face turned slightly pink. “You didn’t think to ask her? She breaks into any place I’m staying with a mind to wreak havoc for me. And you hadn’t considered her responsible for taking the one thing around here that really matters? What’s wrong with you?”

  “Lay off her.” Tina pushed herself between Bixby and me. “I was there too, and I didn’t think to ask her about your silly song, either.”

  His face turned a shade pinker, but his voice wasn’t so sharp when he spoke. “I wish you had thought about it.”

  “If Crazy Candy took the song, wouldn’t she have destroyed it by now?” Tina asked. “It’s not like she left my dresses intact that time she broke into your hotel room.”

  “The song doesn’t belong to my—” He waved his hand in the air. “Never mind. You didn’t ask.”

  “If she has a copy, the police will find it when they pick her up,” I said. “She can’t elude them for much longer. They’ll find her.”

  “I wouldn’t bet on that,” Bixby grumbled. He then drew in a quick breath as if trying to steady himself. Was he agitated because he really needed that song for his next big hit? Or was he agitated because he hadn’t gotten a “hit” from Candy in several days?

  “Bubba told us that he thought some boys had the song,” Tina said.

  “He did?” Bixby perked up at that news. “Why didn’t he tell me? Where are the boys?”

  “We don’t know.” I looked around for where Bubba might have gone. “Bubba didn’t know who those boys were. All he knew was that a few people heard them sing
ing the song this morning. They were at the old lighthouse.”

  “Is that so?” Bixby’s eyes narrowed as he glanced over to where Bubba was chatting with another resident of the Pink Pelican Inn. The way he worked the crowd, you’d think he was running for senate. “I wonder why Bubba didn’t tell me about that.”

  “Maybe he didn’t tell you,” Ezell answered, “because he found someone who’d pay him even more money for that song. That’s what Stan would have done.”

  Chapter 36

  We left Ezell, who seemed anxious to get back to greeting potential voters and talking up his message. Bixby kept saying that he needed to talk to Bubba, so we found a partially secluded table at the pier’s waterfront restaurant where we could all sit down and discuss … everything.

  A basket of deep-fried clams arrived at the table almost immediately. A few minutes later a second basket of conch fritters and deep-fried sea bass arrived, compliments of the music-loving chef.

  While the seafood was mouth-wateringly good, the tension at the table was palpable.

  “I didn’t tell you what Arthur told me because I didn’t know if it was true or not,” Bubba tried to explain to the petulant rock star.

  Bixby churlishly folded his arms over his chest and turned away from Bubba. “It’s not like I need to buy that song. Don’t get me wrong, it’s great and all, but I was trying to do you and the town a favor. I don’t need it. I write my own songs.”

  Tina and I exchanged glances.

  “I don’t know what Ezell is talking about. I don’t have another buyer.” Bubba flapped his hands. “Why would I do such an underhanded thing?”

  “Money,” Bixby said out the side of his mouth.

  “Stan was the one who was always angling for a way to sneak a few bucks out of someone’s wallet, not me. If I cared about money, I would have left this town when Stan did. There was nothing holding me here.”

 

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