Town In a Blueberrry Jam

by B. B. Haywood

  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 th
ing 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.

  As noon approached, the steady onslaught of customers slowed, and by one o’clock thinned to a trickle. Herr Georg picked up the phone, called Duffy’s, and ordered deli sandwiches and salads for lunch. Then, the morning’s baking done, he wandered out into the front room to check on Candy and the day’s sales.

  “We’ve had a busy morning,” she said, showing him the sales register receipts.

  “Hmm, yes, that’s very good. It’s all the tourists, you know. They’re always hungry.”

  Fifteen minutes later, a delivery boy dropped off their sandwiches and salads. Herr Georg suggested they eat at a small table in the back room.

  As they sat, Candy decided that the time to confront him had finally come.

  “Herr Georg,” she began, “I have something to talk to you about—something that’s been bothering me.”

  “Yes?” He looked at her inquisitively as he took a bite of his smoked turkey and Swiss cheese sandwich, piled high with lettuce and tomato.

  Candy hesitated. “Well, it’s about Sapphire Vine.”

  That seemed to suck the life right out of him. The energy and optimism he had exhibited all morning disappeared in a flash, and his expression became solemn. He set his sandwich down on its wrapper. He seemed to have suddenly lost his appetite. “What about her?”

  Candy took a deep breath, then plunged on, explaining how she had been hired to write a column for the Cape Crier, and that she was given access to Sapphire’s files. She left out the part about breaking into Sapphire’s house the night before, but told him that, much to her regret, she had come across a file that contained damaging information about him. She reached for the manila envelope, opened the flap, and withdrew a handful of yellowed, crinkly documents, which she handed to him. “I found these.”

  His face went white. He seemed to know in an instant what they were. He took them from her as if they contained his death warrant, and read over them silently for some time, his lips tight, his eyes dark and hollow. “So,” he said finally, letting out a long breath as he set the documents down on the table, “it is true then. I hoped it was all a bluff.”

  “What’s true? What’s going on?” She felt a chill go through her. “This doesn’t have anything to do with Sapphire’s death, does it?”

  He looked up at her, horror-stricken. “Oh no, of course not! Nothing like that!”

  “Then what?” Candy’s tone was sympathetic. She reached out and put her hand on top of his. She couldn’t help noticing that, despite the warmth of the day, his hand was cold. “I’m not sure what this is about, but if there’s any way I can help . . .”

  He held her gaze for the longest time, as if considering what to tell her. Finally he nodded once, as if he had made a decision. He rose. “Come, we must talk.”

  TWENTY-SIX

  Leaving their half-eaten sandwiches and the yellowed German documents behind, Herr Georg took her by the hand
and walked to the front door. He flipped the OPEN sign that hung in the door window around so it read CLOSED, walked outside with Candy, and locked the door behind them.

  “You’re closing in the middle of the day?” she asked him curiously.

  “I must be outside, away from here, to talk about these things,” Herr Georg told her with a hesitant shrug. “This is more important than a few extra dollars, and it’s such a nice day. Let’s walk.”

  Sensing the import of what he was about to tell her, she let him lead the way. “Okay, let’s walk.”

  With an expressionless face, he started off. Saying barely a word to each other, they crossed Main Street and angled toward Ocean Avenue, which was busy with pedestrians window-shopping and scurrying about. It was a warm day with clouds building overhead. The humidity was on the rise, and the air was sharp with the unmistakable tang of salt and the sea. A flock of gulls arced above, cawing in their hunger and unending quest for sustenance.

  As he walked, Herr Georg kept his head turned down, his hands clasped firmly behind his back. Candy tagged along as they turned down Ocean Avenue, passed the doorway that led up to the Cape Crier’s offices and, a little farther on, the glass front of Stone & Milbury’s. They crossed the street in front of the Pruitt Opera House and walked the rest of the way down the avenue, to Town Park.

  With the dull roar of the rolling sea in their ears, they strolled past well-kept flower beds and over freshly mown grass, until Herr Georg spotted a bench in the shade of a thick oak tree. He approached it purposefully, sat down, and beckoned Candy to sit beside him.

  “Do you know why I came here? Here, to Cape Willington?” he asked after they had settled themselves. When Candy shook her head, he gave her a melancholy smile. “No one knows, of course, except me—and, for a time, Sapphire Vine. But she is gone now. I had hoped that my secret would die with her, but it appears now that it will live on.”

  He let out a tired breath. “I have run from that secret all my life. It is time for me to tell the story, to let it out into the world, for good or bad.”