Town In a Blueberrry Jam

by B. B. Haywood

  He pointed, looking concerned. “Back corner, next to the rakes and shovels. Everything okay?”

  “Yeah, it’s just . . . things are a little crazy. So how’s Amanda doing?” she asked as she started off down the aisle.

  “She’s okay. Glad the pageant’s over.”

  “All of us are,” Candy said as an image of a postpageant Sapphire Vine flashed unbidden through her mind. She saw Sapphire standing in the living room of her little yellow house, being struck in the head from behind by a shadowy figure that held a red-handled hammer. . . .

  Candy shook away the frightening image.

  She’d been positive there was no way Ray could have done such a thing, but now she wasn’t so sure. Could he really have killed her? she thought as she wandered back through the aisles of the hardware store, still feeling as if she were in a daze. Of course he could have, she realized after a moment. Just about anyone can be pushed over the edge, given the right circumstances. Maybe she pressed him too hard about something, or maybe she was blackmailing him. . . .

  Blackmail. Now that was an interesting thought.

  There were rumors around town about that, Candy recalled. Some said, in whispers, that Sapphire found great joy in digging around for dirt on various townsfolk. It was said she even kept secret files on some people. Maybe Sapphire had turned up something about Ray’s past that he didn’t want known. It was a possibility, Candy realized. What do you really know about him, anyway? Everyone has secrets. Maybe Sapphire found out what Ray’s were. Could she have confronted him, put a good scare into him, backed him into a corner so he felt he had no choice but to hit her over the head with his shiny new hammer?

  But what could it have been? What could have provoked him into doing such a thing?

  That was the question that gnawed at her as she blinked rapidly a few times and found herself standing in the back corner of the store. Forcing herself to focus, she ran her eyes up and down the shelves, back and forth. She finally spotted a few bundles of rolled-up chicken wire piled in the back of the bottom shelf, covered in dust.

  As she knelt down and reached for a couple of bundles, she heard garbled voices from the front of the store. Cameron was talking to someone, but Candy couldn’t quite make out what they were saying. She rose and absently wandered down the aisle, her eyes raking over the shelves and displays, trying to remember if she needed anything else while she was here.

  She turned into the next aisle and stopped suddenly. Then just as suddenly she backed up around the corner. She froze as her heart raced.

  A uniformed police officer stood in the center of the aisle she had been about to enter. He hadn’t seen her; he was standing in front of bins of tools, his back to her, talking to Cameron.

  “They’re right here,” Candy heard Cameron say to the officer. “We just got them in about a week ago.”

  “How many were in the initial shipment?” the policeman asked in an official-sounding tone.

  “I think we ordered eight.”

  “There are five left. Who’d you sell the other three to?”

  Cameron went silent a moment. Evidently he was thinking about his answer. “Well, Ray bought the first one, the same day they came in. He loves buying new tools. He’s in here all the time.”

  “Ray Hutchins?” the officer clarified.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Candy thought she heard the scratch of a pen on a notepad. “What about the other two?”

  “I think I sold one on Saturday morning to someone who came over from Town Hall. He said he needed it to work on the pageant set.”

  “Do you remember the name of the person who bought it?”

  As they spoke, Candy edged along the aisle, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. She pretended to look at chain saws as she eavesdropped on their conversation, just in case someone should come around the end of the aisle and spot her.

  “I don’t know his name,” Cameron said. In her mind’s eye she could see the teenager shrug, his bony shoulders rising and falling, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his worn jeans. “He was just one of the construction guys.”

  “A male then?”

  “Yeah—um, yes, sir. A male.”

  “How old was he, would you say?”

  “In his forties, I guess.”

  “I’ll need you to give me a description of him. So who bought the third hammer?”

  “I don’t remember. I don’t think I sold it.” At that, Cameron shifted and called out toward the small office at the back of the store. “Hey, Mr. Gumm, did you sell one of these new Apex hammers to someone in the past few days?”

  Candy heard someone grumbling and then a shuffling of feet. “Er, what was that?” came a thin, elderly voice from the office doorway.

  “These hammers,” Cameron repeated. “Officer Martin wants to know who we sold them to.”

  “What hammers?”

  The shuffling feet came down the main aisle, which ran perpendicular to the one where Candy now stood, and then old Mr. Gumm appeared. Candy lowered her head and held still, hoping he would pass by the end of the aisle without see her. Fortunately, he was looking down at the floor as he walked past. He shuffled on by and turned into the next aisle.

  “These Apex hammers,” Cameron said again.

  “What, the ones with the red fiberglass handles?”

  “Yes, that’s right, sir,” said the police officer as Mr. Gumm approached them. “Allegedly three of these hammers have been sold. I need to know who you sold them to.”

  “Well, let me see now.” The shuffling stopped as Mr. Gumm thought about this. “I sold one to that butler fellow who works up at Pruitt Manor. Unpleasant one, he is,” Mr. Gumm grumbled. “Looks a lot like a bulldog, doesn’t he?”

  Candy’s eyes grew wide as the policeman asked, “When was that, sir?”

  “Well, now, let me see. Must’ve been Thursday or Friday last week, I guess. Yup, yup, that’s right. Cam’s off on Thursdays, so I was here by myself. That’s when it was.”

  “I see. I’m afraid I’ll need to confiscate the rest of these hammers,” Officer Martin said. “They might be evidence.”

  “Evidence of what?”

  “It’s part of a murder investigation, sir.”

  “Murder? In Cape Willington? Who got murdered?”

  “A woman named Sapphire Vine. A hammer just like one of these was used as the murder weapon.”

  “What?!” Cameron’s voice came out as a disbelieving shout that made Candy jump, even though she was an aisle away. “What did you say?”

  Calmly, Office Martin repeated his statement. “Someone murdered Sapphire Vine, using a hammer for a weapon.”

  “But that’s impossible!” Cameron shouted, his voice so high it was almost a shriek.

  “I’m sorry but it’s true.” Officer Martin’s voice was strangely calm, almost cold.

  “But she can’t be dead! She can’t be!” Cameron sounded as if he were about to cry.

  “I know how shocking it can be,” Officer Martin said, forcing sympathy into his voice.

  “Shocking? Damn right it’s shocking,” Mr. Gumm said. “And with a hammer? Well, that’s downright brutal.”

  “It was, sir. The hammer we found at the scene of the crime was brand new, just like these. Didn’t have a scratch on it. Just to tie up any loose ends, we’re running down all the other hammers like it in town. That’s why I need to take custody of these. If more are sold it might foul up the investigation.”

  “Well, I’ll have to charge you for them then,” said Mr. Gumm. “Those are quality hammers—our top-of-the-line. Cost eighteen dollars each.”

  “Send a bill over to Town Hall. You can tag it with my name if you want.”

  Mr. Gumm grumbled at that. “Durn right I’ll put your name on it. And you ain’t leaving here until you at least fix your signature to a sales receipt. I ain’t made of money, you know. Got a business to run here.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Cameron, he
lp him bag up those hammers. I guess we got to give them to him. Just got them in—durn shame.”

  “I’ll need to bag them myself,” Officer Martin said. “Special handling.”

  “Well, do what you have to do,” Mr. Gumm said, and he began to shuffle away.

  “I . . . I have to leave,” Cameron said suddenly. Candy could hear his footsteps head away back down the aisle and toward the door.

  “Hey, boy! Where’re ya going?” Mr. Gumm called out, but there was no reply.

  What was that all about? Candy wondered as she suddenly remembered that she had to meet Doc. She checked her watch. It was nearly one thirty. As quietly and carefully as she could, she walked to the end of the aisle and strolled nonchalantly up to the cash register, where Mr. Gumm was scribbling something down on a nearly used-up pad of sales receipts. He looked up at her as she placed the bundles of chicken wire down on the counter.

  “Oh, Candy, it’s you. Didn’t know you were here.”

  “I was way in the back, looking at chicken wire. I need to do a few repairs on the coop. Got a fox trying to get at the girls.”

  Mr. Gumm shook his head and had a chuckle at that. “Those foxes do love their chickens. Sneaky little critters. They got dark murdering hearts, they do.”

  Candy nodded grimly. “They’re not the only ones.”

  “You got that right. Been strange goings-on in this town lately. Strange goings-on.” The old man shook his gray head again and jabbed a crooked finger at the keys of an ancient cash register. “That’ll be five twenty-five.”

  FOURTEEN

  Doc was waiting for her in the truck. He gave her his best bored look, which he had perfected over the years, as she threw the chicken wire into the back and climbed into the cab.

  “Took you long enough,” he said evenly as he started the truck. “You said fifteen minutes.”

  “I got held up talking to Mr. Gumm.”

  “Ah, well, that’ll happen. Get everything you needed?”

  “Yup.”

  She wanted to tell him more—about eavesdropping on the conversation between Cameron and Officer Martin, and about Cameron’s strange reaction upon hearing of Sapphire Vine’s death—but she held back. She wasn’t ready to talk about it just yet. Instead, she fell silently into her own thoughts as Doc backed up the truck, started off along Main Street, made a right turn onto the Coastal Loop, and headed out of town. But as they came to the intersection of River Road, Candy impulsively signaled to the right.

  “Dad, do me a favor and turn here,” she said suddenly.

  “What?”

  “Make a right turn up here.”

  He looked puzzled. “I thought you needed to get home so you can deliver those pies to Melody’s Place.”

  “It’s called Melody’s Café, and I need to stop at the Tremonts’ first.”

  “The Tremonts’? Why would you wanna go there? Ed’s away and Maggie’s probably still at work.”

  Candy rubbed her forehead in thought. “I’m not sure. I just want to check on something. Indulge me. Please?”

  He arched an eyebrow. “Well, I guess I’ve done that enough times,” he said as his mouth worked itself into a grin, and made a right turn at the intersection.

  The Tremonts lived on the north side of the English River, in an area locally known as Fowler’s Corner. A hundred years ago, all this land had belonged to one of the town’s most illustrious former citizens, a long-whiskered gentleman known as Edwin P. Fowler who had come to Cape Willington in the 1860s when he was still in his twenties, and in the decades that followed had made his fortune in logging, banking, and land speculation.

  But most of Fowler’s land had long since been sold off, and starting in the 1950s a number of side streets and cul-de-sacs had been built in the area. The majority of homes were little white capes with a few split-levels mingled in here and there. The Tremonts lived on a street of newer homes at the edge of town, in a three-bedroom green gabled house barely five years old.

  Doc pulled into the driveway and Candy jumped out. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Take your time,” he said, turning off the engine but leaving the radio on. He leaned his head back. “Guess I’m not in a hurry.”

  Candy rang the doorbell and waited. After what seemed like an interminable period of time, the door cracked open and a curious eye peeked out. “Who’s there?”

  “Amanda? It’s me, Candy.”

  “Oh, hi.” The door opened a bit further. Amanda stood in the doorway, wearing white shorts and a pale pink sleeveless blouse, and eating a muffin. Candy noticed with a bit of dismay that the muffin wasn’t one of hers. “Mom’s at work.”

  “I’m not here to see your mom. I’m here to see you.”

  “Oh. Okay.” Amanda opened the door a little further. “You wanna come in?”

  “Actually”—Candy looked past her into the house—“I was wondering . . . is Cameron here?”

  “Cam?” Amanda turned and looked behind her as if she wasn’t really sure. “Um, I don’t think so. Why?”

  “I need to talk to him.”

  Amanda’s forehead crinkled. “About what?” she asked as she took another bite of the muffin.

  “Oh, nothing really important. Listen, if he comes in, would you . . . ?”

  At that moment she was interrupted by the sound of a door opening somewhere in the back of the house and a male voice calling out, “Amanda? You here?”

  “Oh, there he is now,” Amanda said, chewing loudly. “So you wanna come in?”

  Candy nodded. “If it’s okay.”

  “Sure.”

  They found Cameron in the kitchen, his nose stuck deep into the fridge. “Hey, ’Manda,” he called as he heard them approaching, “where’s the rest of that watermelon your mom—”

  He stopped abruptly as he backed out of the fridge and saw Candy. “Oh. It’s you,” he said in a surprisingly cold tone. He slammed shut the refrigerator door and walked away toward the family room that adjoined the kitchen.

  “Cameron, wait. I want to talk to you.” Candy followed him, with Amanda trailing behind.

  “What about?” he growled, stuffing his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans.

  “I overheard you talking to Officer Martin at Gumm’s.”

  “Oh, that. Yeah, I guess you were there, weren’t you? I forgot about that.” He plopped down on a relatively new brown sofa and searched around for the TV remote.

  Candy stood in front of him with her arms crossed. She got right to the point. “You took the news about Sapphire pretty hard.”

  “Yeah, well, it just surprised me, that’s all.”

  “I wasn’t aware you knew Sapphire that well. Were you two friends?”

  Cameron looked up at her crossly and then flicked his eyes to Amanda before he continued his search for the remote. “No.”

  “Then why the big scene at Gumm’s?”

  He gave her a dirty look. “What is this, the third degree?”

  “Not at all. I was just worried about you. You seemed pretty upset. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

  “I’m fine. Just hungry, that’s all.” He finally found the remote, stuck down between the seat cushions. He fished it out, leaned back, and flicked on the TV.

  “Cameron.” Candy sat down beside him as he channel surfed. He wouldn’t look at her. “Cameron, I want to talk to you about the hammers.”

  “What?”

  “The hammers. The new red-handled hammers you got in at the store.”

  He breathed out through gritted teeth. “What about them?”

  Candy took a deep breath and hesitated only a moment before plunging on. “You said you sold one of the hammers to someone from Town Hall. I was just wondering what he looked like. The person you sold it to, I mean.”

  Cameron glanced over at her with suspicion in his eyes. “Why?”

  Candy paused again. It was a good question. What should she say? She didn’t really know the answer herself, except that some so
rt of instinct seemed to be driving her on. “Something just doesn’t quite make sense, that’s all,” she answered finally. “I guess I’m trying to figure a few things out.”

  He considered that as he stopped channel surfing at a sports news program on ESPN. Finally he shrugged. “It was just some guy. I’ve seen him in the store a bunch of times, but he never talks to me much. He mostly deals with Mr. Gumm.”

  “What does this guy look like?” Candy prodded.

  Cameron’s brow wrinkled in thought. “Kinda overweight, I guess, with this big beer belly. Glasses, black hair, black moustache.” After a moment, Cameron added, “And he has kinda this red face.”

  Candy thought a moment. “Ned? Is that who it was? Ned Winetrop?”

  Cameron shrugged. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

  “And he bought the hammer from you on Saturday morning?”

  Cameron nodded.

  There was silence for a few moments. Candy could feel the tension coming off him. Finally she smiled and slapped her hands on her knees. “Well, okay. I guess that’s about all I wanted to ask you.” She looked at him closely. “You sure you’re all right?”

  “I’m fine.” He got up and walked back into the kitchen, with Candy and Amanda following. He crossed to the fridge and opened it again. “I’m starving,” he said, bending over so he could scrutinize the items inside.

  Amanda edged past him and reached for the peanut butter and jelly. “I’ll make you a sandwich.”

  He smiled up at her, and for the first time since he had walked in the door he looked like the teenage boy Candy knew so well. “Thanks, babe,” he said to Amanda. “You’re too good to me.”

  “Aww, you’re worth it,” she said, snuggling up against him.

  Candy watched them wistfully for a moment, then smiled. “Well, I guess I’ll be on my way. Like I said, I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

  They seemed to barely hear her. In fact, she felt practically invisible.

  She turned toward the door. “I’ll just . . . let myself out. No, no, that’s okay. No reason to see me to the door or anything silly like that. I’m a big girl. I’ll be just fine.”