Town in a Strawberry Swirl (Candy Holliday Mystery) (25 page)

Neil Crawford stood in his late father’s bedroom, staring down with a grave expression at the items arrayed on the top of the bed. They smelled of age and earth and old leather. Neil stroked his beard absently as he studied the items, lost in thought, wondering what his father had gotten himself into.

He’d thought the metal box, which he’d dropped off at the bank, was his father’s only hiding place for valuables. But after digging around the house, Neil had found rolls of money stuffed into emptied prescription bottles in the medicine cabinet, and some heirloom jewelry wrapped in a old towel and stashed inside a heating duct that was no longer in use. Neil also seemed to remember his father telling him about a small hiding place behind one of the bricks in the back wall of the fireplace in the living room, though he hadn’t been able to locate it yet.

But he had found something else—something much more staggering—at the bottom of an old footlocker pushed into the far corner of his father’s bedroom closet. His father had piled old blankets and coats on top of the trunk in an effort to disguise it, and the ploy had almost worked. Neil himself had glossed over it during his initial sweep of the house. Only when he returned to make a more thorough search of the bedroom had he taken notice of it. He remembered seeing it when he was younger, and guessed it was from the fifties or sixties, possibly handed down to his father by his grandparents. It had been painted dark green at one time, with brass hardware and a sturdy leather handle, but now it was badly scuffed and tarnished with age, and looked as if it had journeyed to the edge of the earth and back. The clasp was brass as well, and locked, but after some searching, Neil had found the key in a black jewelry box at the back of his father’s sock drawer.

Returning to the closet, he had set aside the blankets and clothes, pulled the footlocker out into the room, unlocked it, and opened the lid. Inside he found more or less what he expected—old clothes, keepsakes, and photos from earlier times. Everything smelled old and musty.

Neil had removed the items one at a time, uncovering a few old boxes at the bottom of the trunk, including a small, battered cardboard one labeled
Christmas Ornaments
.

That was where he had found the treasure.

At least, that was what he guessed it was. Taken from the old oaken box his father had dug up, the one that had once allegedly belonged to Silas Sykes.

Those items were now on display on top of the bed. Neil had laid down an old blanket first, and then lined up the items so he could survey them in greater detail.

There were four palm-sized leather drawstring pouches, tightly tied and bulging with what turned out to be a variety of old coins. Some were similar to the one he’d found in the metal box, but others were much older, dating back two hundred years or more, Neil noted in amazement. The pouches were heavy as he weighed them in his hands, each in turn, before investigating their contents.

A smaller leather pouch, which had deteriorated somewhat, held perhaps a dozen large gold nuggets. And a sixth pouch, the smallest of the lot, held a few rough gems—sapphires and rubies, Neil guessed.

And then there was a seventh pouch, the largest of the group. It was document-sized, with a rectangular rather than a round shape. It was leather also, finely tooled. The initials
S.S.
were clearly noticeable, worked into the leather in a neat scrolling design.

There appeared to be small snakeheads at the top of the two
S
’s.

The large document pouch was empty.

Still, it appeared his father had indeed found the buried treasure of Silas Sykes.

Which would perfectly explain the reasons behind his father’s murder.

At his initial discovery, Neil had texted Candy. He wasn’t quite sure how to proceed, and wanted her opinion, since she was more tapped into the local community and the police than he was. He didn’t want to disturb the evidence more than he already had. He had considered calling the police, but had decided to contact Candy first.

That had been—he checked his watch—not quite ten minutes ago.

He thought he heard the sound of a vehicle approaching outside, so he went to a second-floor window on the other side of the house and looked out. He saw nothing, however, other than his old red Saab parked in front of the barn.

He turned away from the window but thought he heard a muffled
thump
coming from outside. It sounded like a car door closing.

He returned to the window and scanned the driveway and yard again. But clearly there was no other car out there in the driveway, other than his and his father’s.

Then he saw a shadow move across the floor of the barn.

Someone
was
out there.

Candy
, he thought. She must have pulled up her Jeep on the other side of the barn.
But what was she doing in the barn? Why hadn’t she just come into the house?

He left the pouches of coins, gold nuggets, and jewels on the bed, although he picked up another old blanket he’d dropped on the floor and covered the treasure with it, just in case. Then he went downstairs and headed out toward the barn.

As he walked, he continued to scan the area, searching for the source of that sound he’d heard. But he saw nothing. He walked across the driveway in front of the barn, past his car to the edge of the building, so he could look around the side. “Candy?”

He heard another sound then, a clatter in the barn, as if a couple of tools had clashed together.

He looked curiously back the way he’d come. “Candy?”

Silence.

He called a third time, but again received no reply. Still, he was certain he’d heard
something
.

He walked back around to the front of the barn, looked into the shadows, and then took a few steps inside. The sun had disappeared half an hour ago, and darker weather was moving in, so the lighting in the barn’s interior was muted. Still, Neil didn’t need much light to see by. He’d been in here enough times to know his way around.

“Candy, are you in here?”

If she was, there were only a few places she could be. On the other side of the lawn tractor parked along the wall. Behind the pallets of fertilizer. Or in the small tool room in the far corner.

Or, he thought a moment later, she could be behind him, in the small alcove where his father used to do some paperwork.

He heard a footstep and a faint singing sound, felt a shift of air as something behind him moved. He turned.

Just in time to see the flat blade of a shovel coming right toward the side of his head.

As Candy drove out of Cape Willington, headed toward Crawford’s Berry Farm, she wondered what Neil’s message could mean.

He said he’d found something, but what?

Probably what he’d gone out to look for, she guessed.

The contents of Silas Sykes’s buried treasure.

What had been inside? she wondered again.

She thought of her father’s search of the archives at the historical society, and considered calling him. But as it turned out, he beat her to it. The cell phone buzzed in her pocket and she fished it out.

“Where are you?” her father asked.

“I’m headed out to the berry farm. Neil said he’s found something.”

“I found something as well,” Doc said.

“What?”

“The reason nobody knew much about that property, and the reason the Sykes house and graveyard were never documented. The folios have been removed.”

“The what?”

“The folios, the leaves . . . pages of manuscripts. They’ve all been cut out. It looks like someone purposely went through the historical record and wiped out any reference to that property.”

“But how is that possible?” Candy wondered. “Who would do such a thing?”

“That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it?” Doc said. He hesitated a moment. “Everything going okay with you?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Just wondering. Listen, if you need me for anything, just give me a holler. I’m going to check through a few more records before I head over to the diner. See you there soon, right?”

She keyed off the phone just as she spotted the turnoff for Crawford’s Berry Farm, and the sign with the red arrow pointing toward the barn, farmhouse, and fields off to the right, on the picturesque slope that stretched across the coastal landscape, now under a threatening cloud cover as the ocean to her left began to churn.

She spotted Neil’s red Saab right away, and the tail end of another car parked behind the barn. It looked like a tan sedan of some sort, an older car. She studied it for a few moments but didn’t recognize it.

Spotting no one, she pulled to a stop in front of the farmhouse, shut off the engine, and stepped out. She scanned the buildings and fields, then crossed the driveway and stepped up onto the porch. She knocked on the door and tried the handle. It opened for her, and she stepped inside.

“Hello? Neil?” she called out. “It’s Candy. I’m here.”

She listened for a few moments and stepped farther into the kitchen. The room was darkening. No lights had been turned on. She heard nothing. “Neil?”

She checked the lower floor but found him nowhere, so she moved to the bottom of the wooden staircase and, with her hand on the end post, called up the stairs.

“Neil, are you up there?”

The house creaked as the wind rose outside, the only reply she received. She waited, not sure why she was hesitating. Something about this didn’t feel right, though she couldn’t quite explain why. A warning bell, though still faint, was going off in her head.

There had been two cars outside—Neil’s Saab and the tan sedan. At least two people were out here at the farm. So where were they?

She began to climb the stairs slowly, right hand sliding lightly up the banister. A couple of the steps squeaked under her weight. The sounds were like thunderclaps in the silence of the house.

As if reading her thoughts, a low, rolling rumble of thunder echoed in the distance. A weather front was moving through. It would turn cooler and clearer tomorrow, in time for the Strawberry Fair. But first this front would bring unsettled weather tonight.

At the top of the stairs she paused before first turning left and searching the two rooms to the north side of the building, and then the rooms on the south, which overlooked the ocean, though today the blinds were all pulled closed, putting the rooms in shadows. She flicked on lights as she went from room to room, and flicked them off behind her. She moved quickly but cautiously, though she never felt threatened. Only slightly uneasy.

But she found no one. She had, though, found a curious scene in what she guessed was the master bedroom. Someone—Neil, she supposed—had pulled an old beaten-up trunk from the closet. It sat near the bureau, opened, its contents removed. And there were two old blankets tossed carelessly onto the bed. But other than that she saw nothing of interest.

Back downstairs she did one more sweep before she headed back outside.

She decided to check the barn next.

Thunder rumbled again, closer this time. The clouds had an ominous look. Hot, moist air was being pushed toward them from the west, along the edge of the front. The treetops at the far ends of the strawberry fields were being tossed about by the strengthening gusts, as was Candy’s hair. She pushed back at it as she crossed the driveway at a quick pace, head turning back and forth, searching.

Her uneasiness grew. Where was everyone?

At the entrance to the barn she slowed and peered inside. At first she saw nothing out of the ordinary. It was empty and silent. Wide doors on both sides of the barn were opened and hitched back, so she could see straight through and out the other side, to the fields beyond.

“Hello?” she called out, her voice dry and soft. “Neil? Anyone in here?”

Her gaze swept the place. The barn’s interior was unlit but she could see the lawn tractor against the far wall, the stacks of fertilizer, the workbenches and tools, a small room in the far corner, and one to her left.

There was something else. A sack of some sort, or a pile of . . . something . . . lying in the middle of the floor, fifteen or twenty feet in front of her. It took her brain a few moments to make sense of it, since it was in an odd position, angled toward the back wall. The boots gave it away, and then she noticed the hands, arms, shoulders.

A body. Not moving.

She scanned the barn a final time and took a few steps forward. She approached the body hesitantly, then more quickly when she realized who it was.

“Neil.”

The word came out in a breath as she dropped to her knees beside him. He was lying facedown, unconscious. His hair was askew, and she saw a wound on the side of his head.

She put a hand to his neck, feeling for a pulse. It was there, faintly. She checked the pulse at his wrist as well, just to make sure, but stayed away from the head wound. She wasn’t a doctor and didn’t want to make a bad situation worse.

As she pulled the cell phone from her back pocket, she turned slightly . . . and that was when she saw someone standing behind her, six or eight feet away.

Candy almost jumped out of her skin. Her hand went to her chest. “Oh my God! You scared me to death. What are you doing here?”

“Is he all right?” a thin, high voice asked. A woman’s voice.

Candy couldn’t quite make out the face, shadowed against the outside light. She narrowed her gaze. “Who are you?”

“Is he going to be all right?” the voice repeated.

Candy turned back to look at Neil. “I . . . I don’t know. He looks like he’s hurt pretty badly. We need to get him to the hospital. But he’s still alive.”

The shadowed figure let out a long, deep breath. The next words, when they came out, were low and menacing.

“Well. That’s too bad.”

Candy wasn’t sure she’d heard that right. “What?”

She sensed the figure taking a few steps toward her, and turned around just in time to see the business end of a shovel headed right in her direction.