“Some new furniture?”
“Nope.”
“Flowers? Doilies? I could stencil a nice design around the walls for you.”
Candy shook her head.
“Well, what do you want to do then?”
Candy motioned to the computer. “Ben said there were some past columns on there. I’ll pull them off and put them on a disk. And I’ll dig around and grab some files, haul everything back home, and work from there. Maybe Ben can find another office for me in the next week or so.”
Maggie sighed. “Okay, if that’s really what you want to do, I’ll help you, but it sure seems like a wasted opportunity to me.”
They set to work, but Maggie couldn’t stay long — she had to head back to work at one thirty. Forty-five minutes later, Candy had assembled everything she thought she’d need, including many of the files from the cabinet, notebooks with scribbled messages, stacks of newspapers with Sapphire’s past printed columns in them, a handful of generic business cards, assorted business cards of individuals and companies around town that might serve as story leads, a well-thumbed address book, and copies of some of Sapphire’s e-mails she had printed out for later viewing.
She shut down the computer, loaded everything into two battered old banker’s storage boxes she had pulled out of the back of a closet, carried them down to the Jeep, then stopped back in to see Ben.
“We’ll work it out,” Ben said optimistically after she had explained everything to him. “Don’t worry about it for now. Just work on your column, and keep in touch. I’m here if you need anything. And I’ll find you another place to work. At the very least, I’ll move you in with someone else temporarily.”
She flashed him a smile. “Thanks for understanding. Sorry to be so childish about this whole thing.”
He waved a hand at her. “Don’t even think about it. I understand completely. Besides, like I said, you’re doing me a favor, right?”
“Right. Thanks, Ben,” she said as she headed out the door. “You’re a doll.”
And she meant it.
Twenty-One
Candy stopped back at Duffy’s to pick up Doc, who had finished his game of pool and was back in the corner booth with the boys, and together they drove home. Before she unloaded the Jeep, she checked on the girls, who seemed as happy as ever. She gave them a few cupfuls of cracked corn and egg-laying pellets, freshened their water, gathered their eggs, and laid some clean straw in their roosts.
Then she carried one of the boxes filled with Sapphire’s papers and files into the house.
“What’s that?” Doc asked as he opened a bottle of beer, a good local brand called Thunder Hole Ale, brewed in Bar Harbor.
“Homework,” Candy said as she dropped the box onto the kitchen table.
“Got more in the Jeep? Want me to grab them?”
“One more. That would be great.”
“Coming right up,” Doc said, setting his beer aside as he walked out to the Jeep and retrieved the other box.
“What’s in here anyway?” he asked as he set the second box down on the table, beside the first.
“Sapphire Vine’s old papers, notes, and files. Ben thought it might help if I went through them, so I could see what kind of research she’d done — formatting, contacts, that sort of thing.”
“Well, you’ve got pretty big shoes to fill. Her columns were mighty popular, you know.” Doc at least had the good sense to add after a few moments, “But I’m sure yours will be just as good.”
She gave him a sideways smirk. “Yeah, right, thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“Hey, let me know if you need any help. I’ve got some experience as a wordsmith. And not just that ancient history stuff I’ve been working on. I’ve written about modern topics, for newspapers and magazines. They don’t give full professorships to monkeys, you know. You have to be published.”
“I’ll keep that in mind, Bonzo.”
“Hey, I heard that!” Doc called as he walked into the living room, flicked on the TV, and settled himself in to watch Ellen.
Candy sat at the kitchen table, unloaded both boxes, and started sifting through the files. Most contained worthless stuff — nothing much she could use. She tossed those files onto a discard pile on one side of the table.
A few files contained some notes and interesting stories that might be helpful in the future. Candy set those aside, intending to start her own filing system.
Then there were a few that confused her. Most of the files were labeled on their front tabs with names or subjects — not much guessing was required to figure out what was in them. But she found a handful of files — fewer than a dozen — that had no labels or names on them, and no indication of what was inside.
One, for instance, had the mysterious nomenclature BAK1946 printed in Sapphire’s childish letters on the inside front cover. It contained only a few e-mails, which Sapphire had printed out.
“We must come to an agreement about this, or else,” read one of the e-mails, one that had been sent by Sapphire. A rather threatening comment, Candy thought. Underneath that line, and indented a few spaces, was the message Sapphire had replied to. It read, “I’ve asked you not to contact me about this again. I cannot help you.”
Candy’s brow furrowed in thought. Whatever message from Sapphire this mysterious person had replied to had been deleted.
She flipped back through the other pages in the file. There were a few copies of printed e-mails with messages similar to the first one. Sapphire’s notes and tone grew increasingly threatening, and the unnamed person who replied grew increasingly reticent to do whatever it was she was asking. But there was no indication of the name of the person Sapphire had been exchanging e-mails with, or even the person’s gender.
There wasn’t much more in the file. A photocopy of an aged black-and-white photograph, showing a mother with a young child sitting on her lap. A yellowed newspaper clipping in German, which Candy couldn’t read. A few notes that made no sense.
German?
Candy looked back at the inside front cover.
BAK1946.
BAK? Could that stand for Baker? Herr Georg? What year had he been born? she wondered. He was in his early to mid sixties, she guessed. Counting back, she realized it was entirely possible he could have been born in 1946. But it didn’t make any sense. Why was Sapphire e-mailing Herr Georg? And what was it that she wanted him to do?
The thought crossed Candy’s mind that it might have something to do with the pageant. Maybe she was trying to bribe him.
Or maybe she was blackmailing him.
That could open up a whole new bucket of worms.
Candy set that file aside and picked up another. This one was just as intriguing as the first. It had information in it about all five judges of the Blueberry Queen Pageant, including phone numbers and e-mail addresses. Sapphire had placed checks beside the names of all five judges and circled two of the checks — those beside the names of Herr Georg and Sebastian J. Quinn.
That might fit, she thought, if she was blackmailing both of them. But if Herr Georg’s file was here, where was Sebastian’s? She double-checked. There was no file with his name on it, nor any that looked as if it contained any information about him.
Curious.
She opened a third mysterious file. This one intrigued her the most. On the inside front cover were the initials C. Z. It didn’t take Candy long to figure out who that might be — Cameron Zimmerman.
Amanda’s boyfriend.
Unlike the others, this was a thick file, with clippings, photographs, and photocopies of old papers going back nearly twenty years. Sapphire had obviously done a lot of research on Cameron. There were numerous newspaper clippings of his educational and athletic achievements — making the honor roll in seventh grade, scoring a goal in junior varsity soccer, that sort of thing. A number of fuzzy candid snapshots of him that looked like spy photos, taken from behind bushes or at great distances, apparently without his knowledge. Candy even found a fe
w pages that had been ripped from high school yearbooks, on which his images appeared.
Candy was surprised by the detail of the information she found. Sapphire’s been stalking him for years, she realized. But why?
There were also pages and pages of notes that traced Cameron’s history over a period of nearly fifteen years. Addresses and phone numbers. Detailed information about his parents, Moe and Debbie Zimmerman. Moe was a trucker; Debbie worked at a hair salon. Cam was their only child.
Candy read through the papers with growing interest. But it was a notation scribbled at the bottom of one of the last pages that caught her attention and made her sit up straight in her chair.
He’s the one, it read.
“The one?” Candy said out loud. “The one what?”
“What?” Doc called from the living room.
“Nothing!” Candy called back.
“Hey, you should see this,” Doc said. “Ellen’s giving away iPods to her studio audience again. And you should see what else they’re getting.”
“Just a minute, Dad.”
Candy started going back through the files again, searching for other notations, but there was nothing unusual that jumped out at her.
Except, she realized with a start, for the fact that despite all she had found in Sapphire’s office, there was a lot of information that seemed to be missing — information that Sapphire, as thorough as she seemed to have been, should have collected.
In other words, there were huge gaps in Sapphire’s research.
For instance, there was a file on Cameron but practically nothing about any other student, or any teachers or school administrators. Practically nothing on the local police force or town council or county commissioners. Nothing about local businesspeople. Nothing on Mrs. Pruitt. Nothing on Maggie or Amanda.
And nothing on any of the other beauty pageant judges. Or any of the other beauty pageant contestants, for that matter.
In fact, nothing at all about the pageant.
Now that’s odd, Candy thought, scratching her head. Ben had told her Sapphire was going to write her next column on the pageant, and that she had done some research on it. But there was nothing here about the pageant. Nada.
That doesn’t make any sense, Candy thought, especially when she was a contestant herself. There should be reams of information.
But there was nothing.
Maybe the police took those files, she thought, or maybe Ben has them.
Or maybe Sapphire kept those files somewhere else — someplace private, where no one else could get a look at them...
Candy was still sifting through the files, mulling them over, when Doc walked back out into the kitchen. Candy barely noticed him.
“That was a pretty good show,” he said in a conversational tone. “Too bad you missed it.”
“Huh?” Candy looked up.
“Ellen.”
“Oh. That’s great, Dad.”
“Hey, I’m gonna take a walk up through the fields before dinner. Want to join me?”
“No thanks. I’m going to work here awhile longer, then I’ll start dinner.”
“Okay.”
He was almost out the door when he stopped and turned back. “Oh, by the way, I almost forgot to tell you. I got some new information from Finn today. He talked to his source at the police department this morning. That guy we met, Officer Safford, was right about Ray’s lawyer. Seems he’s some superexpensive guy who works for a big firm up in Bangor. And guess who’s picking up the tab for his services?”
That caught Candy’s attention. She looked up. “Who?”
“You won’t believe it if I told you.”
“Daaad...”
“Okay, okay. It’s Mrs. Pruitt.”
Candy scrunched up her face. “Mrs. Pruitt is paying for Ray’s lawyer?”
“That’s what I said. In fact, this guy she’s hired is associated with the firm that handles all her estate and business affairs. Strange, huh?”
“Very.”
“Something else. They’ve been interrogating Ray — ”
“Interrogating him?”
Doc nodded. “ — and apparently he just keeps repeating the same thing over and over. Says he didn’t do it and says it’s up at the fort. The police have no idea what he’s talking about, and he’s not telling them. You know what he might mean by that?”
Candy had to think about that one. Finally she shook her head. “I don’t think so. The only fort I can think of is Fort O’Brien, that old Revolution-era fort up by Machias. But it’s just a ruin now, isn’t it? Just the foundations or something like that? I don’t know what that would have to do with anything.”
“Yeah, I thought the same thing. Well, I guess we’ll let the police figure it out. Just thought I’d ask.”
He gave her a wave and disappeared out the door, leaving Candy sitting at the kitchen table, gazing over the remnants of Sapphire Vine’s life.
But only partial remnants, Candy realized.
There had to be more.
She crossed to the phone, picked it up, and dialed Maggie at the insurance office.
“I’ve only got a second,” Maggie said. “What’s up?”
“You got any plans for tonight?”
“What do you have in mind?”
“You’re going to say I’m crazy, but I’m thinking about breaking and entering.”
“The old B-and-E? You are crazy. You can get yourself arrested for that, you know.”
“So I’ve heard. But I’ve got to do it. It just might save Ray. You with me?”
“Of course! How could I pass up an offer like that? So whose house are we breaking into?”
“Sapphire Vine’s.”
Twenty-Two
“Tell me again what we’re doing and why we’re doing it, just so I know what to say to the nice police officer when he’s slapping the handcuffs on me and reading me my Miranda rights.”
Maggie had moments ago settled into the passenger seat of Candy’s Jeep, and the two were now headed at a steady though law-abiding clip toward Sapphire Vine’s house, with Candy at the wheel.
“It’s simple,” Candy replied, keeping her eyes trained on the dark road in front of her. “I went through Sapphire’s files, but there’s a lot of critical information missing. I figure she must have kept another set of files at her house. So we’re going to break in and see if we can find them.”
“But wouldn’t the police have confiscated them already? I’m sure they must’ve searched her house. Hey, did you see that? It looked like a skunk.”
Candy swerved out a little to avoid a furry critter that was scurrying back off the road. “I saw it. It was a fisher cat.”
“They eat horses, don’t they?”
“It’s ‘They shoot horses, don’t they?’ And no, they don’t. But they do eat small rodents, rabbits, that sort of thing. I’ve heard they have a particular affinity for cats.”
“Who? Horses?”
“No. Fisher cats.”
“Eww, that’s so cruel.”
“Simple way to solve it: don’t let your cats out at night.”
“But Mr. Biggles loves to go out catting around at night. Just like me.” Maggie stared out at the darkness beyond the headlights. “So you haven’t said anything about my black outfit. Do you like it?”
“It’s very chic.”
“Thanks. I thought I’d dress for the occasion. You know, black can be very slimming. Hey, this is fun. Doesn’t it remind you of something Lucy and Ethel would do?”
“I hadn’t thought about it that way, but now that you mention it, yes.”
“Good thing Ricky’s not around. What do you suppose he’d say if he caught Lucy doing this? Probably something like, ‘Luuucy, you got some ’splaining to do!’ ” She laughed at her own joke. “You know, it’s great having a friend like you. We should get out more often. Burgle a few houses, steal a car or two — you know, girl stuff.” She paused, then asked, “So what are we doing out here agai
n?”
Candy sighed and drove on.
Sapphire Vine had lived in a well-kept Queen Anne Victorian on Gleason Street in an older neighborhood near the center of town. Candy had no idea how Sapphire could afford such a place, since the only job she seemed to have had was her part-time position as columnist for the Cape Crier. After talking with Ben, Candy knew she hadn’t been paid much. So where had the money come from?
It was just another question to fuel the ever-growing mystery surrounding Sapphire Vine.
Candy had driven past Sapphire’s house numerous times, but she had never been inside, though it looked nice enough. Its vintage scalloped siding was painted an old, thick buttery yellow, and the trim was cocoa brown, which made for a nice contrast. The front porch was wide and inviting, dotted with rockers and potted plants. Lace curtains hung in the windows, and flower beds and old shade trees added some stateliness to the front yard.
It was near midnight when Candy pulled over to the side of the road, switched off the headlights, and killed the engine.
“Why are we parking here?” Maggie asked, looking around. “We’re still a block away.”
“Just a precaution. I thought it would be too obvious if we parked right in front of her house. We are breaking into the place, after all.”
“Right. Good idea.”
“I figured we’d circle back through the woods on the empty lot behind her house and come around from the rear. We probably don’t want to just walk right up to the front door and barge our way in.”
As Candy spoke, she reached into the backseat. She pulled a black canvas tote bag into her lap and dug around inside until she found two flashlights. She handed one to Maggie, then climbed out of the Jeep, slipping the bag’s strap over her shoulder.
“Boy, you thought of everything,” Maggie observed as she flicked on her flashlight and joined Candy. “How many homes have you broken into?”
“This is the first one.”
“I’m impressed by your preparation.”
Candy shrugged. “Seems pretty obvious. It’s just common sense, you know.”
“That’s what Jesse James used to say — or so I’ve heard.”
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