Town in a Wild Moose Chase (27 page)

Maggie had her nose pressed up against a computer
screen. “The only way I can keep up with Amanda and Cameron is on Facebook,” she said with a touch of melancholy in her voice. “At least they friended me. I think that’s what they call it. Or is that tweeting? And what the heck is Skype? It sounds like a skin condition.” She swept a hand back through her hair. “All this technology stuff is moving too fast. How does anyone keep up with it anymore? What happened to the good old days when we used to talk to each other on the phone?”

“Or over the backyard fence,” Candy said, dropping into an upholstered chair, which had bare wood arms.

“Or on the front porch.” Maggie laughed. “Listen to us, a couple of modern girls reminiscing about the old times, when things were a lot simpler. Of course, back in those days, they also lacked microwaves, garage-door openers, and Scrubbing Bubbles.”

“And electronic locks,” Candy said, seeing an opening to steer the conversation to a more pressing topic. “Listen, I have a question for you.”

Maggie swiveled in her chair so she could give Candy her full attention. “Fire away.”

“Okay.” She took a quick breath and plunged right in. “Well, earlier today I found this brass hotel key, attached to one of those red plastic key tag thingies with room numbers on them. You know what I mean, right? Now, I know most hotels around here use electronic key cards, but there are probably a few places in the area that still use actual keys instead of plastic cards. Any idea which ones those might be?”

Maggie was silent for a moment, a haze of confusion clouding her face. Finally, she asked, “Is this a technical question?”

“Sort of, I suppose.”

“I just wondered because, you know, you’re asking me about keys. That’s not a common topic of discussion. So, of course, it makes me curious: Why the sudden interest in keys?”

Candy shrugged casually. “I just like keys. Keys are interesting things.”

“But you never cared about keys before.”

“I’ve gained a new appreciation of them, due to recent developments.”

“Hmm.” Maggie scrutinized her friend with a narrowed gaze. She glanced down at Candy’s pockets. “Do you have this mystery key with you?”

“Not at the moment.”

“Why is that not surprising?” Maggie tapped her pursed lips with an index finger. “You know what I think? I think you’ve been nosing around—without me, I might add—and you found a clue. And now you want my help in figuring it out. Is that about right?”

The corners of Candy’s mouth turned up into a conspiratorial smile. “You’re not totally incorrect. I’ve had a busy afternoon, yes.”

“You must have. I’ve barely seen you all day. What have you been up to?”

“Like you said—nosing around. Getting myself in trouble. And just for the record, I wasn’t intentionally doing it without you—nosing around, I mean.”

“I know that, honey. You can’t help yourself,” Maggie declared knowingly. “Just like Mr. Biggles, God rest his soul—always on the prowl. He was relentless. Nothing could stand in his way when he was on the trail of something.”

She paused, grinning cagily as she sharpened her gaze on her friend. “That’s how
you
get when there’s a mystery in town. I admit, it’s probably due to some sort of chemical imbalance in your brain or something like that, but it’s why we all love you.” She smiled warmly.

“Um, thanks—I think. Anyway, back to the key question.”

“Which is?”

“I’m looking for hotels that use real brass keys, like the one I saw. Any idea which ones those might be?”

“Oh, right. The key. It’s probably the key to this whole
thing, right?” She chuckled, amused. “That’s pretty funny. The key is the key. How often does that happen? Not very often, I’d guess. Well, hmm, let me think.” She closed her eyes for a few moments as she pondered the issue. With her eyes still closed, she asked, “Did you get a good look at this key?”

“Well, yes and no. I saw it, but I didn’t pay that much attention to it. There were… distractions.”

Maggie opened one eye. “Such as?”

“I’d rather not say at the moment.”

Maggie opened the other eye and gave her friend a questioning look. “Withholding evidence? You’ve been warned about that, you know.”

“I know.”

“If I help you out, I could be considered an accomplice in whatever crime you’re about to commit—or have already committed.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time.”

“That’s true. Okay, so, sometimes those old keys have room numbers or the name of the hotel stamped on them. Did you notice anything like that, during the distracted time this particular key was in your presence?”

Candy ignored her friend’s humorous asides and stuck to the facts. “It looked like it had at one time, but it was so old that anything valuable had rubbed off.”

“Okay, we’ll just have to figure it out. Which hotels still use keys like that?” Maggie asked herself rhetorically as she tapped at her chin. “A few maintenance men from those places used to come into the hardware store when I worked there. One was from Hidden Valley Motel and Cabins, that place up on Route 1. And then there’s the Shangri-La, that little place just outside of town. It’s a little dingy, if you ask me. Probably hasn’t been renovated since the sixties. One of those room-by-the-hour places, if you know what I mean. Of course, I’ve never been in a place like that myself. But I’ve heard rumors.…”

Maggie’s eyes suddenly lit up, as if something had just clicked inside her brain. She raised a finger. “Hey, you know what, I just read something strange about that place when I was online this morning before I went to work. Now, where was it?”

She swiveled back to her computer, grabbed the mouse, and began navigating her way around the screen. After scrolling down through the browser’s history and clicking the back button numerous times on the half dozen tabs she had open, she finally found the page she was looking for.

It was a bright, busy design, with flashy typefaces and bright lime green and fluorescent purple colors.

Candy had seen it before. It was Wanda Boyle’s blog,
The Cape Crusader
.

Maggie looked a little embarrassed. “Oh yeah, that’s right. I remember now where I saw it.”

Candy waved it off. “That’s okay. I’ve been checking Wanda’s blog a lot lately myself. I hate to admit this, because if she gets any inkling it came from me, I’ll never hear the end of it, but she’s actually been doing some pretty good reporting, for someone just starting out.”

“She’s got the inside scoop on a lot of things, that’s for sure.” Maggie pointed at the screen. “Here’s the item that caught my attention.”

It was a four- or five-paragraph blog posting titled
Police Log
.

Candy leaned in for a closer look. Ben ran a similar thing in the paper, compiled by one of the volunteers. The only problem was, the paper published only twice a month in the winter, so it lost its timeliness. They’d transferred some sections online but usually updated it only once or twice a week. Wanda was posting daily, and often multiple times. The police log was one of several postings she’d made the previous evening.

“See, right here,” Maggie said, pointing, and she read,” ‘A guest staying at the Shangri-La Motel on North U.S. 192
reported a missing toboggan on Thursday, January 27. The guest had left the toboggan leaning against an outside wall of the motel. A brief search turned up no sign of the item. The owner later reported finding the toboggan in the woods behind the motel. Police surmised someone had taken the item and later returned it.’ That’s all it says. Not much, really.”

Candy was silent for a long time as she pondered the implications. Finally, she said softly, “It could be nothing… or it could be everything.”

As Candy was headed out the door, Maggie put a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t go yet. You almost forgot the most important thing.”

She ran off into her bedroom and emerged a few moments later with a slinky black dress on a hanger, covered with plastic wrapping. “I found this for you. It’s your size and it should make you look beautiful. And here.” Maggie handed her a long, black velvet jewelry case. “My pearls and earrings. Ed gave them to me years ago for our tenth anniversary. We were happy for a while, you know,” she said wistfully. “Cost him a month’s wages, if I remember correctly. I felt like a queen when I wore them. I thought they’d look spectacular on you tonight.”

Candy accepted the dress and jewelry box, and gave Maggie a tight hug. “Thanks for helping me with this.”

“Honey, it’s my pleasure.”

“Hey, you know you’re always welcome to come along with me, right? I’m not quite sure where I’m headed next,
or what I’ll find when I get there, but no matter what it is, I can always use your help.”

“Of course you could.” Maggie patted her affectionately on the shoulder. “And I’d love to go tramping off with you into the snowy woods or fields or wherever you’re off to. I really would. And you know I’ve always got your back, whenever you need me. But I have a hair appointment in forty-five minutes. Sheila managed to squeeze me in this afternoon. I was lucky to get the slot. She’s booked up tight all day. The Moose Fest Ball, you know.”

“You found a date?” Candy asked happily.

“I did!”

“Who is it?”

“Well, you’ll just have to wait and see. I guarantee you, it’ll surprise everyone! In fact, the whole thing was a surprise. He came into the cleaner’s this afternoon, we got to talking, and, well, one thing led to another.”

“Sure you don’t want to keep the pearls and wear them tonight?” Candy asked, indicating the jewelry box she held. “It’s not too late to change your mind.”

“I’m going a different direction,” Maggie said. “You’ll see. I found the perfect ensemble.…”

Back outside, Candy carefully laid the black dress on the backseat, slipped the black velvet jewelry box into the glove compartment, and fired up the Jeep. Putting it into gear, she headed back out toward the Coastal Loop, also known as Route 192. At the stoplight, instead of heading back toward Blueberry Acres, she flicked on her signal and turned right, powering northward out of Cape Willington.

The road was wet from the snowfall, though the heavy traffic headed into and out of town kept it worn down to mostly clear pavement. Still, there was always the possibility of an icy patch, so she stayed under the speed limit and remained watchful as the wintertime scenery slipped past her.

The woods of Cape Willington lined the road as she
drove north, although there were plenty of places along the way where someone had carved out a half acre of land or so and built a house. There were a number of historic houses along this road, old capes, cabins, and farmhouses, dating back to the earlier years of the previous century. There were barns as well, some leaning so treacherously under thick blankets of snow that they should have been condemned. But still they stood, their ancient skeletal frames refusing to give way to the onslaught of winter, or any other season, for that matter.

After a few miles she came to a filling station on the left with a small store attached, and a few hundred yards beyond that was the entrance to the motel’s parking lot.

She’d seen the Shangri-La plenty of times before as she drove up and down this road but rarely paid it any attention. It was a nondescript building, with a low roof, long overhanging eaves, and a stepped construction that took the long line of rooms up a rising slope toward the woods behind it. At the back end of the property was a perpendicular row of rooms, so the building formed a long, drawn-out L shape. It was painted brick red with white-framed windows, now frosted from the weather. Out front, a terribly dated neon sign glowed morosely in the overcast day.

Candy eyed the place suspiciously through the windshield, wondering if this was a smart move. She could easily just turn around and head home. Still, she knew she had to check the place out. She had no idea what she was looking for here—but she also had a feeling she’d know it when she saw it.

Putting on her left turn signal, she eased into the motel’s parking lot, driving past the office and up the slight incline toward the rooms at the back of the property. A row of high pine trees rose up on the back side of the building, framing it like something out of a postcard. There were only a few cars in the parking lot at this time of day, and she saw no
one about. She wheeled the Jeep into a parking spot halfway along the building, in front of room number ten, shut off the Jeep’s engine, and climbed out.

The day had grown damper and colder with the approaching weather, and Candy huddled down into her fleece jacket. She stood for a moment looking both ways, toward the office at the front of the building, and to the far end, toward the woods at the back of the property.

Despite the fact that the front of the building was so close to the road, it was fairly quiet back here, where the sounds of traffic were muted by the snow cover. She could hear the slight wind rustling through the pines behind the building and the call of a lone crow overhead, flapping past.

She started walking uphill, toward the back of the property. She passed a few cars, and a few rooms that looked occupied. She could hear the sound of a TV coming from one of the rooms, voices in another. Somewhere behind her, a door opened and closed as the occupant emerged from one of the rooms and walked down toward the office. Candy turned to watch him go, but he never noticed her.