Town in a Lobster Stew chm-2

by B. B. Haywood

  Candy gasped.

  Bob Bridges stopped in his tracks, his head swiveling toward her.

  A look of complete confusion clouded his face for a few moments as he studied her, trying to figure out what he was looking at. His gaze shifted briefly to the ledger, which she still held in her hand, and then upward again as their eyes locked.

  A scowl came to his face. “What are you doing in here?”

  Candy couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t speak.

  She’d been caught red-handed!

  Thirty-Seven

  Bob Bridges took a few steps toward her, his face flush, his eyes hardened and accusing. “You shouldn’t be in here. What do you think you’re doing up there?” He leveled a finger at her. “Get down from there right now,” he said angrily.

  Candy instinctively jumped and let out a yelp, but she had no intention of doing as he asked. “Stay away from me, Bob,” she said, holding out one hand toward him. Her heart thumped in her chest as she twisted her head back and forth, searching desperately for an escape. But there was only one way out — the shed’s double doors.

  And right now, Bob Bridges stood between her and freedom.

  As he came toward her another few steps, she moved away from him, along the top of the workbench to her left, slipping sideways like a crab, toward a back corner of the shed. She kept her eyes on Bob, not on her footing. As she moved, she knocked over a neat stack of illustrated workbooks and nearly tripped. One of the books slid off the workbench onto the floor, landing with a slam.

  Bob gave her a distressed look. “Hey, don’t mess anything up!”

  “Just stay away!” she yelled back at him with all the force she could muster. “Don’t come any closer. I know what you’ve been up to.”

  He gave her a quizzical look. “Now what the hell does that mean?”

  “You know exactly what it means.” Candy glanced back over her shoulders, looking for a weapon. She’d reached an area of the long workbench where he kept woodworking tools. She spotted a variety of blue-handled chisels, arranged according to size, hanging on the pegboard against the wall. She grabbed the longest one and brandished it like a knife. “Just back away and no one will get hurt!”

  Bob stopped dead in his tracks. He held up two hands. “Hey, hey, calm down.”

  Candy looked around frantically. Her gaze settled on the double doors again. If I could just get there before he does...

  Bob had shifted his position, shadowing her as she moved along the bench toward the back of the shed. There might be a chance, she thought, if I can just slip past him.

  Moving quickly before she had a chance to reconsider, she ran back along the top of the workbench toward the other end. But about halfway along she sprang off, holding the ledger tightly against her chest with one hand and the chisel in the other. She angled her jump in the direction of the door, hoping it would cut her travel time to the outside. But she landed awkwardly, since she couldn’t use her hands to balance herself properly, and it took her a few moments to recover her footing.

  By the time she’d regained her balance, the compact physique of Bob Bridges was blocking her path.

  And he didn’t look like he was about to let her pass.

  Candy pulled to a stop, her feet slipping slightly underneath her. She scrambled backwards, holding out the woodworking tool. “Just stay where you are. Remember, I have a chisel and I know how to use it.”

  “I know you got a damn chisel in your hands. I can see the thing pretty clearly from here,” Bob growled, flicking his gaze from the weapon to her face and back again. “Don’t you go hurting anyone with that thing now, especially yourself. I just sharpened it the other day.”

  “Well... that’s good then. At least you know what you’ll get if you take another step.”

  Bob’s head tilted oddly, as a dog might if it heard a high-pitched sound. “Hell, I don’t know what’s got into you,” he said in a mystified tone. “You’ve been coming around here the last few days, snooping around and causing trouble, and now you’re breaking into the facilities, stealing things, and threatening me with my own damned chisel. What the heck do you want?”

  “I just want to get out of here,” Candy said. She retreated a few more steps, until the workbench poked her in the back.

  “Well, okay,” Bob said. “Just take it easy now. No one’s gonna hurt you.”

  Candy wasn’t fooled. “Yeah, I bet that’s what you told the others, huh, Bob?”

  Again, he gave her a strange look. “Others? What are you talking about?”

  “I saw the tarpaulin. Or at least one exactly like it. And the fishing line. I know all about those.”

  “About what?” His gaze shifted to the neatly folded tarp in the back corner, giving Candy the chance she needed to try for the door again. She scooted to her left, then her right, and dashed forward, headed around him, moving as quickly as she could. But he moved quickly too, shuffling across the floor, blocking the exit again. “Hey, you’re not getting away yet.”

  She yelped again and retreated. “Stay back, Bob.”

  “Look, I’m not playing games.”

  “Neither am I. Let me go,” she said warily, watching him in case he charged her.

  “Okay, you can go,” he said, “but you can’t take that with you.” He indicated the ledger, which she still held tightly against her. “That belongs to the museum. You’ll have to leave it here.”

  “Leave it here?” Candy nearly shouted the words as anger mixed with the fear and panic inside her. “It’s not yours. You stole it!”

  At this accusation, he looked more annoyed than anything else. “Quit goofing around and put it back.”

  Candy clutched the ledger tighter to her chest. “I’m not goofing around. And I’m not giving it back. It doesn’t belong to you.”

  “Of course it belongs to me.” Bob sounded irritated now. “You found it in my shed, didn’t you?”

  “That’s right. I found it in your shed, Bob. What are you doing with it?”

  “Oh hell, I don’t know.” He squinted at the object. But he couldn’t see its cover clearly, since she still held it tightly in her arm. “What the hell is it, anyway? It looks like some sort of book or something.”

  “You know perfectly well what it is. It’s the ledger, Bob. The one written by Mr. Sedley.”

  “Sedley?” At the mention of the name, Bob’s brow fell dramatically.

  “That’s right. He gave it to Wilma Mae Wendell for safekeeping, but you stole it from her, didn’t you?”

  Bob finally seemed to understand what was going on. His face went pale. “It’s Old Man Sedley’s?” he asked after a moment, as if the realization had only just hit him. He shifted his gaze to the ledger, studying it. Suddenly he straightened and walked forward, holding out his hand. “Here, let me have a look at that.”

  Candy darted off to one side again, out of his reach. “Just stay back.”

  “Look here now,” he said, planting his feet and putting his hands on his hips. “I’ve had just about enough of this. Maybe you should tell me what’s going on, so we both know.”

  Something in his tone made the fear, panic, and anger inside Candy suddenly dissipate. She still stood warily in a combative stance, and she still held the blue-handled chisel out in front of her. But she was looking more closely at Bob now. She was starting to realize that something was not as it seemed. “You mean you don’t know?”

  “Know what?”

  “About the ledger.” For some reason she couldn’t explain, she held it out in front of her, so he could see its cover. “ This ledger. It was stolen from Wilma Mae’s house last week. You took it, didn’t you, and hid it up there on that shelf.” She pointed.

  “No, I didn’t,” he retorted.

  “But I found it there.”

  “Well, I don’t remember putting it up there.”

  “Don’t remember?” Candy was flabbergasted. “How could you not remember something like this? You obv
iously take really good care of things around here, Bob. You even arranged the tools alphabetically.”

  “And by category and size,” Bob put in.

  “Right, by category and size,” Candy repeated, though she hadn’t noticed that. “So how come you don’t remember putting this ledger up on that shelf?”

  Bob’s confusion grew. He tilted his head again and scratched thoughtfully at his chin. “Well, now, that’s a darn good question.”

  Now Candy was confused. “What do you mean?”

  “What I mean is, you’re right. I know everything that’s in this shed. I know exactly where I put things. I even have a map that shows where I’ve placed every item, and a complete inventory of all the museum’s equipment. But I don’t remember ever putting a ledger up on that shelf. And I certainly don’t remember stealing it from Wilma Mae’s house.”

  He paused, his face shifting, becoming more thoughtful. “But I think I know who did.” He held out a hand. “May I see it?” He paused. “Please?”

  Candy held it tightly a few more moments, uncertain of what to do. But something in his tone made her trust him. He seemed more curious now than threatening. “Just remember,” she said, “I have a chisel.”

  “I remember.” He still held out his hand.

  Hesitantly, she extended her arm and gave him the ledger.

  He took it carefully, drew it closer, and examined its cover. “If this is what I think it is...”

  He opened to the first page and read the inscription. Grunting softly, he flipped back through a few pages. “It is Old Man Sedley’s, isn’t it?” He shook his head, deep in thought. “I can’t believe she actually did it.”

  Candy knew instantly who he was talking about. “Charlotte! She took it, didn’t she?”

  He looked up at her. “You know about that?”

  Candy nodded. “I’ve heard things about Charlotte, yes. But honestly I don’t know what to believe. Or who to believe. So why don’t you tell me. What’s going on here, Bob?”

  Suddenly he seemed very weary. He closed the cover of the ledger, looked over at his desk, and crossed to it. He flopped down heavily in the office chair, set the ledger on the desktop, and rubbed at his forehead with thick fingers. “I never should’ve got myself mixed up with her in the first place.”

  “You were helping her, weren’t you? That’s why you stole the ledger for her?”

  “Stole it?” Bob shook his head, his eyes hard again. “I keep telling you, but you’re not listening. I didn’t steal it.” He paused, and his face drew down into a long mask of regret. “But she wanted me to.”

  “She did?” Candy took a few steps toward him. “She asked you to steal it?”

  “More than that,” Bob said. “We made a deal.”

  “What kind of a deal?”

  When he hesitated, she spoke again, coaxing him. “Two people are dead. You need to tell me everything you know. Then we need to go to the police.”

  He placed his hands on his knees and sighed. “Well, I guess you’re right. It’s just...” He paused again. “Well, there are other people involved.”

  “Like who?”

  At that question, Bob suddenly looked ill. “Like my son Robbie.”

  Thirty-Eight

  “It’s that boy that got us into this,” Bob said, a pained expression on his face. “And those damned poker games of his.”

  “Poker?” Candy couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Is that what this is all about?”

  “Yeah. That’s part of it at least. But there’s a lot more.”

  “So why don’t you tell me all about it.”

  He waved a hand at her. “I’m getting to it, I’m getting to it. Things have been moving so fast I haven’t been able to keep track of it all myself — and now, with Old Man Sedley gone, and Charlotte too, well, the whole thing has heated up to the boiling point, hasn’t it?”

  “It sure has. So, did you have anything to do with either of their deaths?” Candy asked point-blank, crossing her arms.

  “Me? ’Course not. Well, not directly, I guess.”

  “But you were involved?”

  Bob gave her a piercing gaze. “Not in the way you’re suggesting.”

  “Then what about the tarp in your shed?” Candy pointed toward the corner. “It’s just like the one Mr. Sedley was wrapped up in after he was killed. And what about that fishing line on your workbench over there? Charlotte was strangled with fishing line, you know.”

  Bob looked horrified. “She was?” He shook his head. “I hadn’t heard that.”

  “What about it, Bob? If you didn’t kill them, who did?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Then what do you know?” Candy’s tone had grown demanding. She felt it was the only way to get the information she needed out of him.

  And it worked. He sputtered a bit and gave her a dark look, but he started talking.

  “Charlotte’s the one who came to us,” he said finally, reluctantly. “It was all her idea, and that’s the truth.” The pained look in his eyes returned. “Robbie... well, Robbie ran into some trouble with one of his games — several of them, actually. He was doing okay for a while, making some money at it. I warned him not to get himself in too deep, but he wouldn’t listen to me. He got cocky — and reckless. He started playing in these high-stakes games over near Bangor, run by some rich guy out of Boston — Marblehead, I think he said. The guy’s name was Paul or Pete or something like that. Old-money type of thing. Anyway, Robbie got in over his head.”

  “How much?” Candy asked, her voice quieter now, encouraging him.

  Bob hesitated before he answered. “Twenty-five thousand dollars, maybe a little more.”

  Candy let out a low whistle through pursed lips. “Wow.”

  “Yeah.” Bob ran a hand through his sandy hair. “It was a shock all right. When he told me that, he might as well have hit me with a brick. I was stunned. But he’s my son, you know?” He paused, averting his eyes for a few moments. He took a deep breath before he continued. “Robbie said they brought in some ringer, backed by this moneyman. So this guy strings Robbie along for a while and then cleans him out. Takes everything. ’Course, Robbie thinks he can win it back, so he goes in deeper. He lost a lot of money before he realized it was time to quit. The poor kid came to me asking for help. And I wanted to. But I didn’t have it either.”

  “So you went to Charlotte,” Candy said, jumping ahead in the story.

  But Bob held up a finger. “Well, not exactly. Like I said, she came to me.”

  “So how’d she find out about it?”

  Bob puffed out his cheeks. “Captain Mike, I guess.”

  “Captain Mike?”

  “Yeah. I had to talk to someone about it. So one day I told him what happened. Charlotte must have overheard us talking. That’s the only thing I can figure out, and it makes sense, since she was snooping around a lot, trying to find out what Wanda was doing. The next day she came to me, when I was working out here in the shed. She said she had a proposition for me.”

  “Let me guess. She offered to lend you the money if you stole the recipe for her.”

  “No, not lend.” Bob shook his head. “She offered to give us the money, free and clear. An even trade. I steal this recipe for her from Wilma Mae’s house, and she’d give us the money, no questions asked, so we could get Robbie out of trouble.”

  “Wow,” Candy said again. “She was that desperate to get the recipe?”

  “I guess so. I was pretty surprised too.”

  “And you agreed to do it?”

  “Of course I agreed to do it. People were starting to lean on the kid, make veiled threats. Time was running out. I didn’t have a choice.”

  Both of them were silent for a few moments as they considered Bob’s predicament. Finally Candy said, “So you agreed to steal the recipe, but you said you didn’t go through with it. What happened?”

  It took Bob a long time to answer. “I was ready to do it. I really was
. Charlotte gave me the money, and I gave it to Robbie, so he could pay off those vultures. She told me exactly when she wanted me to break into the house. I think she might have been staking out the place. She seemed to know when Wilma Mae came and went. She even had this costume she wanted me to wear — old man’s clothes and a wig she’d made. She was pretty good at that sort of thing, you know.”

  Candy remembered. Charlotte had dressed the mannequins in the museum’s new exhibit. She’d even made the wigs, she’d told Candy that day she first visited the Keeper’s Quarters.

  It seemed she had used her skills for another, more sinister purpose.

  It also seemed like she had everything well planned out.

  Bob confirmed that thought. “I think she even took photographs of Old Man Sedley when he was out here volunteering — told him it was for a brochure or something like that. That’s how she got the costume and the wig so exact. Anyway, she told me if I dressed up like Mr. Sedley I could slip into Wilma Mae’s house without anyone noticing. That was the plan, at least. Get in, get the recipe, and get out.”

  “But someone noticed,” Candy said as an image of Mr. Sedley wrapped in the tarpaulin sprang into her mind. She shivered as a chill overtook her, but she shook it off.

  “Yeah, I guess so,” Bob said. “But they didn’t notice me, ’cause I’m not the one who broke in and took the recipe. In the end, I just couldn’t do it.” He paused. “I thought about it a long time, but I knew deep down I didn’t have it in me. I’m not a criminal, no matter how much I needed the money. So I pulled out at the last minute.”

  “Charlotte must have been pretty mad about that.”

  Bob gave her a strained look. “You have no idea. I’ve never seen her that mad before. She threatened me in all sorts of ways. She said she’d have me fired. She said she wanted her money back, but of course I didn’t have it anymore. She even threatened to go to the police, though she was just bluffing about that. We both knew that would never happen. I told her I’d pay her back somehow.”