Town in a Blueberrry Jam (20 page)

TWENTY-FOUR

A sudden gust of wind rattled the old house. Candy glanced uneasily up at the ceiling, then back at Maggie, making a face that communicated her disbelief. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’m totally serious! The evidence is right here. This must have been their secret love shack!”

Candy’s response was a muted half laugh. “Do you know how crazy that sounds? I mean, come on! Cameron’s barely eighteen. What would he ever see in Sapphire? He’s much too young for her.”

“She’s a cradle robber! I always knew she was creepy!”

Candy shook her head. “I don’t believe a word of it. There must be some other explanation. Maybe . . .”

But she gulped down her words as they heard a door open and then close somewhere downstairs.

For a moment Candy and Maggie stared at each other in shocked silence. Then Maggie hissed, “Someone’s here!”

“Douse the lights!”

“We’re trapped!”

“Shh. No one knows we’re up here. Just keep cool and we’ll be fine.”

They switched off their flashlights, drifted back into the low corners of the room, and waited.

They could hear footsteps walking through the house two floors below.

“Should we turn out that other light?” Maggie whispered from her hiding place, motioning to the floor lamp.

“No, just leave it on.”

“The trap door’s still open!” Maggie started toward it, but Candy urged her back.

“Just leave it alone! Don’t make a sound.”

Maggie edged back into her corner, crouched, and waited.

Heavy footsteps were coming up the stairs, two at a time.

“They’re coming up!”

“Shh!”

Maggie shushed, though Candy could hear her whimpering quietly. They both waited nervously. The footsteps were closer now, turning into the bedroom below. Candy’s heart thumped in her chest and blood rushed through her ears. What if it was someone dangerous? What if the person who had killed Sapphire—not Ray, but the
real
killer—had come to kill
them
?

Candy looked around for a weapon as she heard the footsteps enter the closet and pause just below the trap door.

She spotted a camera tripod near her, tucked into the corner. Carefully she picked it up and held it in her right hand, ready to swing if necessary. It wasn’t the best weapon in the world, but it was metal and it was hard and it would do in a pinch.

And they were definitely in a pinch.

She heard someone climbing the ladder, slowly, cautiously. Candy shrank back into the shadows as far as she could go, her gaze riveted on the opening in the floor not six feet from her.

A shaggy head popped up. “Is someone up here?” a nervous male voice asked.

For a moment there was no answer. Then Maggie said in disbelief, from the other side of the room, “Cameron? Is that you?”

“Mrs. Tremont?” He was halfway up the ladder. Only his head and shoulders emerged through the opening, but it was enough.

Maggie stepped from her hiding place and gasped. “It
is
you! I can’t believe it! What are you doing here?”

“What are
you
doing here?” Instead of sounding surprised, his tone was accusatory.

“What do you think we’re doing? We’re snooping around.”

“We? Who else . . . ?” His head swiveled around and he saw Candy. A dark look came to his eyes. “Who said you could do that?”

“We’re trying to find out who murdered Sapphire,” Candy said, sounding apologetic.

“I didn’t do it!”

“No one said you did.”

“Then why are you . . . ?”

But before he could finish, Maggie cut in. “Are you sleeping here?” she demanded to know, pointing to the bed.

At first he seemed surprised by the question, but then his face grew hard. “What if I am?”

“Cameron . . .” Candy set the tripod down and took a step toward him. “We’re just trying to find out what’s going on here.”

“Well I don’t know,” he said stubbornly.

“But your things are here. Your clothes.”

“Were you and Sapphire Vine having an affair?” Maggie asked hotly.

“What?”

“You heard me, mister! Answer my question. Were you and Sapphire fooling around?”

His head shook furiously and he glared at her. “You’re crazy!”

“Don’t you talk to me in that kind of voice, young man.”

“I can talk to you any way I want! You’re not my mother.”

“Cameron, I want some answers and I want them now!”

“I’m leaving!”

“Don’t you dare . . .”

But it was too late. Cameron had dropped back down the ladder. Candy could hear his footsteps retreating back across the bedroom, out into the hall, and down the stairs.

“Cameron! Wait!” Maggie dashed to the opening and started down after him. “Don’t you run away from me!”

Candy heard him shout something back at her, but the words were muffled. A few moments later the back door opened again. Maggie’s shouts could be heard as she ran out into the backyard after him.

“Oh boy. What a mess.” Candy shook her head in disbelief, knowing the neighbors might have heard all the commotion. “Time to get out of here.”

She started toward the trap door but turned back, her mind working furiously. She didn’t want to leave anything here that might incriminate them. She spotted her tote bag sitting on the floor near the desk, right where she had left it. She crossed to it, picked it up along with her flashlight and gloves, and started to leave.

But she turned back again. She looked at the files on the desk. She should put them back into the filing cabinet, she thought, just in case someone else found this place. She could try to get a look at them later.

But immediately she reconsidered that. Who knew when she would have a chance to sneak in here again? And who knew if the files would be here if she made it back?

Better, she thought, just to take them with her. No one knew they were here anyway, she rationalized. No one would ever know they were missing.

She tried not to think about the consequences of removing evidence from the scene of a crime. Before she changed her mind again, she stepped back to the desk, picked up Jock’s and Herr Georg’s files, and stuffed them into the tote bag. Then she added others—files for Amanda and Cameron, Mrs. Pruitt and Hobbins, and tall, handsome Ben. They fit snugly, but she got them all in.

Her gaze darted across the desk. She grabbed the address book too and tucked the Rolodex under her arm.

Before she left, she spotted one more thing she decided she wanted to take with her—the photo album with Susan Jane Vincent’s name on it.

That was all she could carry. After a last look around, she quickly dropped down the ladder, pulling the trap door closed after her, and dashed down the stairs. She pulled on her shoes by the back door and ducked out under the police tape. Then, pushing the lock button on the door knob and shutting the back door tightly behind her, she raced out into the dark backyard.

TWENTY-FIVE

The phone rang at just after eight in the morning. Jolted out of a deep sleep, Candy groaned as she reached over and blindly grabbed for the receiver. “Hello?”

“Good morning,
liebchen
!”

“Herr Georg?”

“Yes, Candy, it’s me. How are you today? I hope I didn’t wake you. Were you asleep?”

“Um, no, well, actually I was just getting up.”

“Oh dear. Should I call back?”

“No, no, that’s okay.” Rubbing her eyes, she sat up, threw her legs over the side of the bed, and pushed her hair back from her forehead. “What’s going on?”

“I have a favor to ask. Rosemary, my regular girl, can’t make it in today. She’s out sick, or so she says, though I doubt that. It’s a suspiciously nice day. Still, she won’t be in, and I need counter help for a few hours while I’m in the kitchen. I don’t suppose you’d be willing to come in and help out?”

Candy squinted at the clock. “What time do you need me?”

“Around nine?”

“I’ll be there.”

“My
liebchen
, you are an angel!”

“I’m glad to help out.” She didn’t mention she was secretly relieved he had called. She had been trying to figure out how to approach him about what she had seen in his file the night before.

“Fine, fine. See you in an hour. Thank you so much!”

She started to say more but held back. She decided it would be best to wait until she could talk to him face-to-face to ask him the questions she really didn’t want to ask.

But as difficult as she knew it was going to be, she had to confront him about the documents she found the night before—or, to be accurate, the ones Sapphire had found. Though many of the faded, yellowed documents were in German, which she couldn’t read, she had a good idea of what they said, and they greatly disturbed her. They raised more questions than they answered—and led her to conclusions she refused to accept.

Ever since she first heard about the violent death of Sapphire Vine, Candy had been trying to fit the pieces together, to unravel the mystery of not only
who
murdered Sapphire (for Candy was now more convinced than ever that Ray had
not
done it) but also
why
she was murdered.

Now she had at least one possible answer—but she didn’t like it at all.

As much as she hated to admit it, Herr Georg seemed to be the one with the most to gain by Sapphire’s death. That troubled Candy more than she could say. It actually made her heart ache, for she couldn’t imagine Herr Georg doing anything so destructive.

But she had seen the e-mails, documents, and newspaper clippings herself. They were all there in the file, which still sat on her kitchen table, evidence of a hidden past that just possibly was a motive for murder.

Following her adventure with Maggie at Sapphire’s house the night before, she had arrived back home at some time after one in the morning. She had been dead-flat exhausted and upset with herself over how the whole thing ended.

By the time she had dashed out the back door of Sapphire’s house and into the yard, Cameron was long gone. She finally found Maggie wandering around blindly in the dark woods, desperately searching for the teenager. But it soon became evident he wouldn’t be found that night, so reluctantly they gave up the search. They had found what they came for and decided it was time to disappear into the night before anyone else stumbled upon their questionable activities.

So, emotionally and physically drained, they had trudged back to the Jeep, Candy lugging the bulging tote bag heavy with files and papers.

“That was . . . fun,” Maggie said on the way home, sounding not at all convincing. “We really should do that again sometime—like maybe in a decade or two.”

Candy had been too tired to smile. “I think our burgling career started and ended tonight.”

“You are
so
right about that.”

Once back at Blueberry Acres, Candy had emptied the tote bag of files onto the kitchen table, sat wearily, and spent the next half hour or so paging through Herr Georg’s file, trying to decipher some of the ancient, faded German documents within. But when she nearly fell asleep at the table, she finally gave up and crawled into bed.

Now it seemed that, much sooner than she expected, she would have a chance to talk to Herr Georg about what she had found.

As she rose, showered, dressed, and headed down to the kitchen, her mind was already churning, trying to figure out how she was going to broach the subject with him.

Downstairs, Doc was drinking a cup of coffee at the kitchen table. Sapphire’s files were piled neatly on the table in front of him. Candy couldn’t remember leaving them like that. Her brow furrowed as she realized Doc must have been looking through them. By the look on his face she knew instantly that he disapproved.

In silence, Candy walked to the counter, dropped a slice of bread into the toaster, and poured a cup of coffee. She moved about silverware and saucers and glasses, trying to fill the uncomfortable quietness. All the while she kept her back to Doc, but she could feel his eyes on her. She had seen him in these moods before—though rarely—and she wasn’t quite sure what to expect.

But there was no way around it. She had to face him. She turned, holding the cup of coffee up toward her face with two hands. He was looking right at her.

He pointed with the subtlest of gestures toward the files on the table. “What have you been up to?”

For a moment she was a child again, a little girl being admonished by her stern father. Old feelings she hadn’t experienced in decades sprang into her heart and mind. But then she reminded herself that she was a woman in her thirties, responsible for her own decisions, and that she had made those decisions for a very good reason.

“Dad, I’m trying to save Ray.”

“And these will help?” Doc tilted his head toward the files.

“They might. I think so, yes.”

Doc didn’t ask where the files came from; he seemed to know that answer—or if he didn’t, he didn’t seem to care. It was obvious that his concern was for Candy, and for her alone. With a foot he reached under the table and kicked back one of the chairs. “Have a seat.”

Candy looked at him suspiciously. “Okaaay.”

“I just want to talk for a few minutes,” Doc said as she sat down.

Candy placed the coffee cup on the table before her. “About what?”

“About you.”

“Me? What about me?”

“To be honest . . . I’m worried about you,” Doc said.

The toast popped up then, and Candy jumped up to place it on a plate and butter it. “Why are you worried about me?” she asked over her shoulder as she worked.

Doc sighed and waited until she had settled herself again, then leaned forward and folded his hands on the table in front of him. “Are you happy?”

Candy had taken a bite of the toast but stopped chewing at the question. “Am I happy?” she repeated with her mouth full, looking just a bit unglamorous.

“This whole thing with Sapphire and Ray, and the way you’ve become so . . . involved in it. It’s got me to thinking.”

Candy started chewing again, and this time swallowed before she spoke. “Dad, what’s on your mind?” She glanced at the clock on the wall. “I have to leave soon. Herr Georg needs me to work in the shop.”

Doc nodded in acknowledgment, then got quickly to the point. “I’ve been watching you all week, and I realized that I haven’t seen you this dedicated to anything in a long time, not since you’ve moved up here—except for those damned chickens of yours. And it’s got me to thinking. Maybe you’re so involved with this Ray thing because you, well, because you haven’t had much direction in your life recently.”

Candy rolled her eyes. “Dad . . .”

Doc held up a hand. “Now hear me out. This is something I’ve got to say.” He took a deep breath, then continued. “When you were a little girl, you didn’t seem to know what you wanted to do when you grew up. Other little girls wanted to be teachers or doctors or lawyers or movie stars, but you had a hard time figuring it all out. Your mother and I were worried a bit about you then, but we knew eventually you’d find your way. And you did in college. You discovered a career, and then you met Clark, and for a while your life seemed to be on a fast track.”

“You’re right about that,” Candy said, finishing up the last few bites of toast and wiping her hands with a paper napkin as she glanced at the clock again.

Doc knew his time was running out, but he refused to be hurried. “And then life took some hard turns, for both you and me. I want you to know,” he said, reaching across the table to rest his hand on one of hers, “that having you move in here with me was one of the best things to happen to me in a long time. I’ve loved having you around again. But I can’t help wondering . . .” He paused, hesitant to go on, then said finally, “Well, I can’t help wondering if you’re here more for me than for yourself.”

Candy started to protest, but Doc went on, quickly now. “You need more in your life than just me, sweetie. But it’s more than that,” he said before she could get anything out. “I have to ask—or I think you have to ask—what do you want to do with your life?”

Candy almost laughed, though she held back because she knew her father was serious. She thought a moment, then rose, placed her coffee cup in the sink, and returned to the table. She kissed her father on the forehead and held up his chin as she looked into his eyes. “Dad, I think it’s really sweet you’re concerned about my life, but don’t worry so much. I’m just fine.”

Doc smiled up at her. “I just want you to be happy, pumpkin.”

“I know. Me too.” Candy kissed him again, then grabbed her purse and a manila envelope from the table by the back door. “I hate to run, but Herr Georg’s waiting for me. We’ll talk later, okay?”

“Okay.” After a brief pause he added, “Just take care of yourself.”

“I will.” And with that she was out the door. She jumped into the Jeep, headed down the dirt road toward town, and a few minutes before nine, she walked into the Black Forest Bakery on Main Street.

Herr Georg was in the back kitchen, wearing a long white apron and a chef’s hat, his hands covered with flour. When he saw her, a wide smile broke out on his face beneath the curling white moustache.

“Ahh, Candy, there you are, just in time,” he greeted her as she dropped her purse and the manila envelope onto a cane chair in a corner.

She said hello, and as she grabbed an apron and tied it about her waist, she added hesitantly, “I have something I need to talk to you about when we have a break.”

“Yes, yes, of course. We’ll have some time later. Have you had breakfast?”

“Just a cup of coffee and a piece of toast.”

He clucked at her with his tongue. “Candy, Candy, that is not enough for you! You are a grown woman! You dash about here and there! You need something to help you keep your energy level up. Here, try one of these. I just took them from the oven.” He handed her a raspberry cheese croissant oozing warm filling and giving off that luscious, just-baked smell, so powerful and redolent it almost made her dizzy.

Light, flaky, and golden brown, it practically melted in her mouth. “Hmm, hmm, hmm. It’s a good thing I don’t work here regularly,” she told him as she licked her lips and savored each bite, “or I wouldn’t be able to fit through your shop’s front door, that’s for sure. Besides, I’d probably eat through all your profits!”

He laughed heartily, his eyes twinkling, just as the bell over the front door tinkled. Candy quickly finished the croissant and wiped her hands on her apron. “The first customer of the day,” she announced as she darted out to the front counter.

A flood of customers, as it turned out, came through the door, one after another, keeping her quite busy for the next few hours, and the morning passed in a rush. At times it reminded her of a feeding frenzy of great white sharks, and she was the chum. The smells coming out of the kitchen were heavenly, spurring on the near-rabid customers, who kept Candy hustling as she filled dozens and dozens of white bakery bags with Herr Georg’s delicacies and rang up sales on the old register. While the customers browsed and sampled the pastries, they sipped tea and coffee and chatted about family, friends, and work. In amongst the talk about the weather, the summer traffic, vacation plans, and the score of the latest Red Sox game, there were worried glances and whispers about Sapphire Vine, Ray Hutchins, and Jock Larson. Murder was still a topic that occupied the minds of many Capers, but few seemed willing to discuss the terrible events of the past week out in the open, preferring to talk in the far corners of the room, in lowered tones, so as not to disturb the more sensitive among Herr Georg’s patrons.