“So,” Maggie said as she sipped her wine and nibbled at a fresh-baked roll oozing butter, “before we get distracted, you never told me how you did at the festival. Did you make out okay?”
“I had an amazing day. Made almost twelve hundred dollars.”
“Wow! I’m impressed.” Maggie patted her friend’s hand. “I’m so proud of you! You’re so resourceful.”
Candy sighed. “I need every penny. I just had to pay a killer property tax bill and make a quarterly payment to the IRS. It looks like Doc’s going to need some dental work. Registration on the Jeep is due next month — I just hope to God it doesn’t need any work to pass inspection. And I have to pay the harvest help. With all these bills I feel like I got the sword of Damocles hanging over my head.”
Maggie’s mouth twisted in thought. “Hmm. Damocles? He’s not that good-looking UPS driver, is he?”
They both had a good laugh as their food arrived. Candy nibbled at her lobster roll while Maggie speared a forkful of salad.
“So tell me,” Candy said between mouthfuls, “how is Amanda doing after her big night onstage?”
Maggie shrugged. “You know teenage girls. One minute she’s bouncing off the ceiling because she won second runner-up, and the next she’s down in the dumps because she lost to Sapphire Vine. It’s all hormones. An emotional roller-coaster. And having Cameron around so much doesn’t help.” She rolled her eyes.
“I talked to Herr Georg. You know, that thing we talked about.”
“You mean the judging?”
Candy nodded.
“Ooh, tell me. What did he say? Someone screwed up royally, right? Or maybe Sapphire just got her hooks into one of the judges — you know, bribery?”
Candy frowned and shook her head. “He wouldn’t admit to anything. But I know it has to be something like that. There’s no way she could have won that pageant without help from someone.”
“Right. It goes against the laws of the universe.”
“Something’s definitely rotten in Denmark.”
“Who gives a crap about Denmark? Something’s rotten right here in good ol’ Cape Willington.”
They talked on for some time as they finished their food and were still gabbing away when they heard another voice nearby. “Hello, excuse me.”
Candy and Maggie looked up. A curly-haired woman with a dark complexion, dark brown eyes, and a bright smile stood beside them.
“My name is Melody... Melody Barnes,” the woman said, introducing herself. “I’m the proprietor of this little establishment. I just wanted to come by and introduce myself. You’re Candy Holliday, right?”
“That’s right.” Candy held out her hand as she nodded toward Maggie. “And this is my friend Maggie Tremont. It’s nice to meet you, Melody.”
There were smiles and handshakes all around, after which Melody continued. “So how’s the food? Are you enjoying it?”
“Excellent,” said Maggie.
“The lobster roll is wonderful,” added Candy. “These chunks of lobster are huge.”
Melody seemed pleased. “I’m glad you’re enjoying it. That’s a specialty of the house. My grandmother’s recipe. It’s all in the spices, you know. Listen, I must tell you, there’s a reason I wanted to meet you. I bought one of your blueberry pies on Saturday.”
“Oh yes, I remember,” Candy said pleasantly. “Did you like it?”
“It was one of the best I’ve ever tasted. I ate one piece myself and served the rest of the slices to some of my customers today. It’s been a huge hit, especially with the tourists, and I was wondering, well, if you would consider baking pies for me on a regular basis, to serve here in the café?” Leaning a little closer, she whispered, “I’ve been told I need to upgrade my desserts!” She leaned back again as she continued. “But I just don’t have the time to bake, since I’m so busy with the rest of the cooking. Anyway, your pies are so much better than anything I could make. I don’t think I could improve on them. And if you could help me out, it would mean the world to me.”
Candy’s eyes lit up. “Really? Of course! I’d love to do that. How many would you need?”
They set to talking then, and by the time Candy and Maggie left the café fifteen minutes later, Candy had an order for eight pies a week, half to be delivered on Monday morning and the other half Thursday morning. For this first week, though, she had agreed to deliver five pies the following afternoon.
“Wasn’t that nice?” Maggie said as they drove back to the insurance agency. “I guess things really are looking up for you, what with the festival, and now this.”
Candy nodded, feeling all aglow. “It’s great, isn’t it? With the way things are going, I just might be able to pay my bills this month.”
“Honey, with the way things are going, you’ll be able to buy Pruitt Manor!”
Eleven
Candy awoke suddenly in the middle of the night. For a few moments she lay in the darkness as a warm breeze blew over her, trying to figure out what had pulled her so quickly out of deep sleep.
And then she heard it — the chickens were in a frenzy, squawking madly out in their coop about something.
She jumped out of bed, pulled on a bathrobe, and carefully made her way down the dark staircase. Doc kept a flashlight on the windowsill by the back door, for emergencies. Candy grabbed it, slipped into a pair of sandals, and headed out into the night, flicking on the flashlight as she went.
A three-quarter moon cast a faint glow on the landscape, giving it a ghostly appearance. Trying to ignore the creepy feeling that edged up her back, she hurried toward the barn and skirted around the side of it. As she approached the coop behind the barn, she could hear the chickens squawking in terror.
She stopped about ten feet away and shined the flashlight back and forth. Most of the girls were in a frenzy, their underfeathers flying everywhere, but a few still sat up in their roosts, their necks pulled way down into the feathers, clearly frightened out of their wits. Something had spooked them — but what?
Flicking the flashlight about, Candy searched the shadows around the coop while at the same time looking around for a weapon. This was a rural area, and there could be any number of critters about. If she had to tangle with anything too dangerous, she didn’t want to do it bare-handed. She wished she had remembered to pull Doc’s shotgun from the broom closet in the kitchen.
And then she saw it — an animal about the size of a small dog pawing at the chicken wire on the back side, trying to break into the coop.
“Hey! Get out of there!” Candy shouted suddenly, her voice breaking sharp in the night. She moved to her left, bent and scooped up a handful of stones, and flung them at the critter. It shied away when it saw her, its eyes luminescent in the flashlight’s beam, watching her intently to see what she was going to do next.
She picked up a good-sized rock and threw it at the animal — a fairly large fox, she saw now. “Leave them alone! Git!”
She picked up a large stick and started toward the creature, but before she had taken even a few steps it turned suddenly and slunk away, seeming to simply disappear into the high grass and shadows that edged the blueberry field behind the barn.
“What’s wrong?” came a voice behind her.
Candy jumped at the voice and twisted about. Doc was coming toward her wearing only a T-shirt and boxer shorts. His shotgun was tucked under one arm.
She held a hand to her rapidly beating heart. “A fox, trying to get at the girls.”
Doc squinted into the darkness. “Did you chase it away?”
“Yeah, it’s gone, I think.”
“Damn critters. Are the girls okay?”
Candy walked toward the coop, shining the flashlight inside. The chickens were still clucking loudly, still frightened, though they were starting to calm down.
“They seem all right. Just scared as hell.” She walked around the coop to where the fox had been pawing at it and bent to inspect the chicken wire. “Damn thing almost got in, th
ough. I’m gonna have to fix this in the morning. We got any chicken wire left?”
Doc shook his head as he leaned the shotgun against the barn. “I don’t think so. I’ll tie a piece of plywood up against it for tonight. That’ll help temporarily, but we’ll have to stop by the hardware store in the morning.”
Doc helped her patch up the coop as best they could, then they both went back to bed. But Candy found she couldn’t fall asleep again, no matter how hard she tried. She turned and tossed for an hour or so and finally gave up. At first light she climbed out of bed, feeling tired and cranky. She put on the coffee, checked the girls again, and decided she might as well start baking pies to take into town later in the day.
She knew her arrangement with Melody wouldn’t make her a lot of money, but every penny would help. It seemed that scraping around for money had become a way of life for her and Doc. She had made good money down in Boston, true, and had lived quite comfortably until Clark, her ex-husband, lost his job. As their marriage unraveled, they had to live on her paycheck, which made their finances tight, but they still had their savings — until Clark squandered most of that on his start-up tech company. When they divorced, they sold the house, but after paying off an equity loan, they weren’t left with much. They split it up, and Candy used some of the money to make a few repairs around Blueberry Acres when she moved in with Doc. The place had needed a new roof, and they’d done some remodeling work inside, tearing out old carpet and putting in new wood floors. She’d also had to buy a new fridge and dishwasher when the old ones went out. The rest of the money she still had in a savings account at a bank in Bangor, but she was hesitant to touch it, thinking some day she might buy a place of her own.
For now they lived off Doc’s Social Security and his retirement money from the university, from the twenty or thirty thousand they made every year selling blueberries, and from the odd jobs Candy did around town. For the most part they lived comfortably enough, until unexpected bills started to pile up or when something special was needed. There were days, when the checking account was near empty, that she considered heading up to Bangor or down to Portland to try to get back into a marketing firm. But every time she considered that option she quickly put it aside. Such a job, she knew, would bring back too many memories of her earlier life, and she resolved again to try to make her current situation work.
So she was grateful for any extra income — even if it meant making a few extra dollars a week by baking pies for Melody’s Café.
Several hours later she pulled the last two pies out of the oven, set them on the counter to cool, walked out onto the porch to rest for a moment, and promptly fell asleep in a chaise lounge. The ringing phone woke her.
Maggie was on the other end of the line. She sounded frantic. “Are you watching TV?”
“No, I’m... I’m baking,” Candy answered, still feeling groggy. “Why?”
“Turn it on. Now. Channel seven. I’ll call you right back.” She hung up.
Candy glanced up at the clock. It was just after noon. Had she slept that long?
She yawned, poured herself a cup of lukewarm coffee, and flicked on the small TV set in the corner of the kitchen counter. As the sound and picture came on, she heard the news announcer speaking, starting in midsentence.
“. . . just after ten thirty this morning. The body was apparently discovered by a neighbor, who called the police. The victim has been identified as thirty-seven-year-old Sapphire Vine, who...”
Candy gasped. Her hand flew to her mouth as she watched the image of a stretcher being wheeled out of the front door of a Victorian house. The body lying on the stretcher was draped in a white sheet.
“. . . was crowned as Cape Willington’s Blueberry Queen just this past Saturday night. According to observers, Ms. Vine’s appearance in the annual pageant was somewhat controversial, since contestants are usually limited to girls of high school age.”
A homemade video of Sapphire dressed as a blueberry and reciting her poem appeared on screen. It was soon replaced by more shots of the ambulance and police cars.
The announcer continued. “Sources tell us that Ms. Vine was a columnist for the local newspaper and was a respected resident of the town. According to Cape Willington Chief of Police Daryl Durr, the death is being treated as a homicide, and police say they have arrested a suspect. He is identified as Ray Hutchins, a local handyman. An investigation is underway. We’ll keep you posted on further developments. Now for a check on the local weather, we’ll turn to our own Kimberly Frank, who tells us that it’s going to turn stormy...”
Twelve
Candy felt her legs go numb. Before they had a chance to collapse beneath her, she crossed to a chair and sat down heavily. Her fingertips were tingling, and there seemed to be a buzzing sound in her ears.
Sapphire murdered? Ray arrested?
How could that be?
She didn’t have much time to consider an answer, because the phone rang again. Candy rose shakily to answer it and then sat back down.
“Did you see it?” Maggie asked breathlessly.
“I saw it. I don’t believe it, but I saw it.”
“Wasn’t that utterly, totally bizarre? The way they brought her body out on a stretcher like that? It was so undignified, but at least she got her final moment in the spotlight. I half expected her to jump up in her cowgirl outfit and start reciting poetry.”
“It doesn’t seem real,” Candy replied, leaning forward and putting a hand to her forehead. She felt hot.
“Oh, it’s real all right. Someone really, truly did it. Someone murdered our Blueberry Queen.”
Candy took in a sharp breath. “That’s right! I hadn’t thought about it like that. Her Majesty is dead, isn’t she?” She paused, thinking. “But if Sapphire’s gone, that means...”
Maggie picked up the thread, finishing her thought. “It means, by decree, that the Blueberry Queen sash and crown must be handed over to the first runner-up.”
“Haley Pruitt!”
“That would be her, the granddaughter of our dear old rich friend, Mrs. Pruitt.”
“So justice is served — Haley will get what probably was rightfully hers in the first place.”
“True, but doesn’t it sound suspicious to you? If I didn’t know better, I’d say Old Lady Pruitt had something to do with this.”
Candy felt a jolt of realization shoot through her. “You think so? You really think she had Sapphire rubbed out?”
“Who knows? It’s possible, isn’t it? It sure would make a lot of sense.”
“I suppose so, but... they said they’ve arrested Ray. They must think he had something to do with this.”
Maggie snorted, a distorted blast of noise coming over the phone. “Ray Hutchins? Oh, come on! Do you really think he could do something like that?”
“I... I don’t know,” Candy said thoughtfully. “I guess not, since you put it that way. It doesn’t seem possible, does it?”
“Are you kidding? It’s ludicrous! Our little ol’ Ray wouldn’t hurt a fly. He tears up when he steps on a cockroach.”
It’s true, Candy thought, remembering the look on Ray’s face a few days ago when he had put the sides of the booth on the wrong way. “But what’s the connection? How’d he get himself arrested for killing Sapphire Vine?”
“Who knows? But I can tell you right now they’re barking up the wrong tree with that guy.”
“But if he didn’t do it,” Candy said, her mind working feverishly, “then who?” She paused as she collected her thoughts. It took her a few moments before she could put everything in order. “Even though she had motivation, I can’t really imagine Mrs. Pruitt doing something like this — no matter how much she hated Sapphire and wanted Haley to win. And it couldn’t have been one of the other contestants, could it? Or the parents of one of the contestants?” She paused, then said jokingly, “ You didn’t kill Sapphire, did you?”
That got a chuckle out of Maggie. “Me? Hah! Listen, honey, don’t t
hink I didn’t think about it more than once. In fact, I wish I had killed her. I sure could use the notoriety. And to tell you the truth, it was on my to-do list. But somebody beat me to it.”
Candy smiled as Maggie continued, obviously on a roll. “Besides, if I’d done her in, I wouldn’t make a secret of it. I’d be shouting it from the rooftops until they dragged me down and hauled me off to the looney bin. They’d probably even make a TV movie about me. Maggie Tremont, Blueberry Queen Murderer. I’d finally get my name in lights, just like I always wanted.” She let out a final laugh. “So what about you? Are you the killer?”
“Me?” Candy sighed. “Not me. I didn’t have any motive to kill her. I’ve got nothing to gain. Besides, I get woozy at the sight of blood — I have to lie down when I get a paper cut. I could never do anything like that.”
“Well, if I didn’t kill her, and you didn’t kill her, and Ray didn’t kill her, you know what that means, don’t you?” Maggie asked ominously.
“No, what?”
“It means they’ve arrested the wrong person. And that means the real murderer is still running loose around Cape Willington.”
That sent a chill skittering up Candy’s spine. “You’re right.” Instinctively she looked up to see if the kitchen door was locked, and through the window saw Doc’s pickup truck coming up the dirt lane. He had gone into town as usual that morning, telling her he had best get out of her way and let her bake.
Now she let out a breath of relief. “Doc’s here. I’ve got to go.”
“Okay. Call me tonight!” Maggie said as they hung up.
Candy walked out the door and stood on the back porch, her hands slipped into the back pockets of her jeans, as Doc pulled up and called out to her with the engine idling. “Have you heard?”
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