Town in a Blueberrry Jam (11 page)

“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, though. 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 think 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?”

She nodded. “I’ve heard.”

He motioned her toward the truck. “Get your things and come on.”

“Where are we going?”

“To the police station. We’re gonna look in on Ray and see if he’s all right.”

Candy nodded, ran back into the house to get her purse and keys, closed the door behind her, and climbed into the cab beside Doc. He pulled the gearshift into reverse and wheeled the truck around.

“Whoever heard of such a thing?” he muttered as he drove back down the lane. “Arresting Ray Hutchins! A kinder, gentler soul doesn’t exist on this planet. He must be frantic right about now. We’ve got to give him some moral support.”

It took less than ten minutes to drive to the Cape Willington Police Department, which was located about half a mile outside of town in a relatively new one-story brick building on Route 196, also known locally as Loop Road. The village’s police station had relocated there about ten years ago, after abandoning a cramped old wooden building at the far end of Main Street, which it had operated out of for the better part of a century.

Doc parked in the front lot, and he and Candy pushed silently through the wood-and-glass door and presented themselves at the information desk.

“We’d like to see Ray Hutchins,” Doc announced to the stout woman behind the desk. She was nicely dressed, in a blouse, skirt, and silk scarf. “I believe you have him in custody in connection with the Sapphire Vine murder.”

“Oh, hi, Doc,” the woman said, looking up and pushing her glasses up on her nose. “I thought that was you. Haven’t seen you for a while.”

“Hi, Carol. How’re things going?”

“Oh, you know—Phil’s lumbago is kicking up again and the wagon needs new tires. But other than that, as good as can be expected, what with all that’s happened today. So, you’re here to see Ray, huh? You’re not family, are you?”

Doc shook his head. “Don’t think he has much of a family. We’re just here to lend moral support.”

“Moral support. Okay, I see.” Carol picked up a pen and nodded as she looked down at a sheet in front of her. She tapped at the sheet for a few moments with the pen, then looked back up. “Well, Doc, that’s a real nice gesture, and I’d sure like to let you in to see him, and he’d probably be real glad to see you. But I don’t think it’s gonna happen today. He’s still in booking, and after that they’re gonna take him up to the county jail in Machias. We don’t retain prisoners here, you know.”

“What do you mean?”

“We don’t have jail cells, Doc. We’ve got a secure area in back where we bring prisoners in to book them, but then they’re taken to Machias or Bangor for incarceration.”

“Oh.” Doc’s jaw tightened. He hadn’t been aware of that. “No chance of seeing him before you ship him out?”

Carol glanced up at the clock, then back down at the sheet in front of her, shaking her head. “I don’t think so. We just don’t have the facility for such a thing, especially with a prisoner like Ray. There’s the issue of personal safety, you know.”

“Who’s personal safety? Ours?”

“Sure. Look, Doc, it’s crazy around here right now. Why don’t you wait until all the booking and paperwork are done and then check on Ray tomorrow up in Machias. You should be able to get in to see him then.”

Doc didn’t seem to like that answer. He looked as though he were about to burst wide open, so Candy put a restraining hand on his shoulder. To Carol, she said pleadingly, “Isn’t there any way we could see him today? We could wait around for a while, see what happens.”

Carol pursed her lips. “I’d sure like to help you out, Candy, Doc, sure would, but it’s just not in my power, you know. We got ourselves a murder investigation going on here. Everyone’s real serious about it, being the rare event it is. Even got some detectives coming over from Augusta. Yup, it’s real serious all right. We’ve got to do things by the book. You can understand that, can’t you?” She gave them a tight smile that seemed to plead for their cooperation. “Try it tomorrow, okay? Up in Machias?”

Doc let out a long, painful sigh of resignation. “Okay, Carol. Listen, do me a favor then, will ya? If you see Ray, tell him we were here, and tell him we’ll see him in the morning.”

“I’ll do that, Doc, Candy. Good to see you both.” Back outside, Doc was still steaming as he climbed into the truck. “I can’t believe they won’t let us in to see him.”

“Poor Ray,” Candy said as she slid in beside him. “He must be terrified in there.”

“I still can’t believe they arrested him. Anyone who knows Ray knows he could never have done anything like that. Someone’s just making a huge mistake.”

“Do you have any idea why they arrested him?” Candy asked as Doc started up the truck.

“Not yet, but I know where we can find out.”

“The diner?”

Doc nodded emphatically. “The diner.”

They drove back into town and parked on Main Street. As Candy climbed out of the truck, she felt a strange sensation go through her. She stopped on the sidewalk and twisted around, her gaze roaming up and down the street. She wasn’t sure what she expected to see in this town she had grown so accustomed to, but she was surprised to find that everything was essentially business as usual. Folks strolled about, gazing into shop windows, hurrying to or from work, snacking on ice cream, or chatting on cell phones. People were laughing. It all seemed so odd after what had happened over the past few days—that two people who had lived here, in this town, two people they all had known, had talked to (and in the case of Sapphire, frequently made fun of), people who had been alive and probably walked down this very street just a few days ago, were now gone, dead, one murdered not far from this very spot, the other dead after a suspicious plunge from a seaside cliff. And Sapphire’s murderer still might be running loose around town! But despite that, everything seemed to be normal. And somehow that just didn’t seem right to her.

Once they entered Duffy’s Main Street Diner, however, Candy realized that things in town were not quite business as usual. The place was abuzz, and all the talk was about Sapphire Vine. Had she still been alive, she would have been mighty proud to have been the main topic of conversation.

“Hey, Doc!” someone yelled from a corner booth and waved at them.

“There they are.” Doc pointed the way. “Hi, Juanita,” he called out to the waitress behind the counter.

“Hey, Doc. Hey, Candy. You both having the usual?”

Doc nodded. “We’ll be with the boys.”

“Got it.”

Finn, Artie, and Bumpy had staked out their usual place in the horseshoe-shaped corner booth, from which they could watch the comings and goings in the diner as well as the activity on the street outside. Finn scratched at his salt-and-pepper beard as he chewed on a toothpick, while Artie made notes on the ever-present clipboard and Bumpy eyed a handful of leftover fries on Artie’s pushed-back plate. Doc greeted them as he slid into the booth on one side. Candy slid in on the other side, next to Bumpy.