Town in a Blueberrry Jam (18 page)

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 again?”

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.”

“Close friend of his, were you?”

“Honey, you don’t know the half of it.”

Keeping their flashlights aimed low, they left the street and angled back through the woods toward the house in which Sapphire Vine had once lived. Now that they were out of the Jeep and into the night air, they walked in silence. When they did talk, they did so in low whispers.

The woods were overgrown and tricky to traverse. Maggie jumped noisily more than once as she was spooked by night creatures, and almost tripped a couple of times, cursing angrily under her breath. But they picked their way through without too much trouble and soon emerged from the woods, pausing at the edge of Sapphire’s backyard.

Candy reached back inside the bag she carried and handed something to Maggie. “Here, you’ll need these.”

Maggie shined her flashlight on the objects she had been handed. “Isotoner gloves?”

“It’s all I had. We can’t leave fingerprints.”

“But aren’t we supposed to wear those little latex gloves like they have in hospitals or at the deli counter? You know, like when they slice your cheese for you?” She held out an imaginary slice, as if for a customer. “‘How’s this?’” she mimicked. “And what about those people who say, ‘Oh, can I have that a hundredth of an inch thinner’? I mean, come
on
—it’s a piece of
cheese
! Get a life!”

“Shh! Get your Isotoners on,” Candy said, pulling her friend along by the arm. “We’re going in.”

As they walked across the yard toward the back of the house, Candy slipped on a pair of lavender Polartec winter gloves—the only other ones she had except for a few pairs of grimy old gardening gloves, which were totally inappropriate for this kind of delicate operation. Candy was just snugging her fingers into them when she looked up—and stopped dead in her tracks. Maggie, who was following behind, plowed into her.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Maggie whispered harshly.

Candy pointed up at the house. “Look there.”

Maggie raised her eyes, following Candy’s finger.

A dim light showed through a small window nestled into the very highest peak of the house’s gabled roof.

“You think someone’s home?” Maggie whispered, sounding worried.

Candy shook her head. “No one lives here anymore—Sapphire probably just left a night light on or something like that. Come on.”

“But what if someone’s moved in and . . .”

“Shh! Wait here.”

“Where are you going?” Maggie whispered, but Candy had already moved away. She disappeared into the shadows at the back of the house. Maggie heard her jiggle the knob on the back door.

“It’s locked. And it’s got yellow police tape across it,” came Candy’s faint whisper. “I’m checking around the side. Be right back.”

As Candy disappeared into the night, Maggie waited nervously. Time seemed to drag on. She tapped her feet, looked up at the stars, and bit her lip. “Candy, you there?” she finally whispered into the shadows.

No answer. “Candy?”

She was just about to investigate when a dark shape loomed from around the other side of the house and approached her at a fast pace.

“Halt! Who goes there!” Maggie squeaked.

“Shh! It’s just me.”

“What are you doing?”

“Looking for a way in, silly. All the windows are locked.”

“Well there’s a surprise. What are we going to do now?”

“I’ll guess I’ll have to put the
break
into breaking and entering. I need a big rock or a brick.”

“Why? What are you gonna do?”

“Break a window. Got any other bright ideas?”

“How about looking for a spare key? Everyone leaves a spare key around somewhere outside, right?”

“Good idea. I’m glad I brought you along. Let’s see what we can find.”

It took some searching, but Maggie finally located a key hidden on top of one of the back window frames. “Here it is!”

“You’re a genius! We’re in business.”

Candy slipped the key in the lock, turned the knob, and pushed open the door. “Here, put this back where you found it,” she said, handing the key to Maggie. Then she ducked under the police tape.

Maggie hid the key in its secret place, then rejoined Candy.

They were in.

The door opened onto a long dark hall. Maggie closed the door behind them as they shone their lights around. A door to the left led to the kitchen. On the right was a small bathroom and a storage space under the staircase. Straight ahead was what looked like the living room.

Everything seemed to be in disarray—probably from the police search of the house, Candy guessed.

“Where do you think she bought it?” Maggie asked quietly, coming up behind Candy.

“What?”

“Where do you think Sapphire was when she was—you know—killed?”

“Oh.” Candy took a few tentative steps forward and peered into the living room. She pointed to a spot on the living room floor marked in an X with masking tape, which seemed to glow in the beam of her flashlight. “There.”

Maggie made a face. “Yuck. Let’s go this way.” She angled off to her left, into the kitchen, but Candy hesitated in the back hall. “Do you suppose we should wipe our shoes or something?” she asked.

“Why would we want to do that?” came Maggie’s harshly whispered response.

“Well, mine are kinda muddy from the woods. The police can’t match shoe prints, can they?”

Maggie’s face appeared back around the door frame. “I never thought of that.”

“Can they?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

Candy thought a moment. “Guess we’d better take off our shoes then. We can leave them here by the back door.”

“Good idea.”

Their shoes off and carefully set on the back-door mat, the two of them began to explore the house in their stocking feet. They started in the kitchen. As carefully and quietly as possible, Candy checked all the cupboards and opened all the drawers. While Maggie cooed with pleasure over the Betty Boop cookie jar and Sapphire’s collection of whimsical salt and pepper shakers, Candy searched through a small stack of unpaid bills on the breakfast table. She even poked into the trash can but found nothing.

Moving quietly and methodically, they next checked a small laundry room attached to the kitchen, the downstairs bathroom, and the dining room. Then, respectfully, they walked into the living room, careful to stay to the outer edges, avoiding the center of the room, where Sapphire Vine had died a violent death after stopping the business end of a hammer with her head.

Maggie looked around with a mixture of fascination and repugnance. “I love the fact that we’re here,” she whispered, unable to take her eyes off the masking-tape X on the floor, “but you have to admit this is kind of creepy. I didn’t think it would be so tomblike. It’s like a dead person lives here.”

“A dead person
did
live here, but she’s gone now, so she won’t mind if we nose around a little.”

“You sure about that?”

“Well, no, not really.”

Maggie tilted her head pleasantly. “Okay, that’s good enough for me. Let’s get back to business.”

Tiptoeing about cautiously, they shined their flashlights into various nooks and crannies, checking the room. It was actually tastefully decorated, they were surprised to discover, with a fairly new rust-colored furniture set, Mission-style coffee and end tables, a well-stuffed bookshelf, a comfortable-looking rocking chair, a large TV, and an upright piano. There were only small touches that indicated Sapphire Vine had once lived here—a collection of cat and angel porcelain figurines arranged lovingly on a bookshelf, an embroidered pillow on the sofa that read, “The World’s Gutsiest Gal.”