Town In a Blueberrry Jam

by B. B. Haywood

  “How could you have done such a thing?” Maggie asked.

  “It’s despicable,” Candy added. “I bet Sapphire was freaked when she found out. Is that when she started blackmailing you?”

  Sebastian sat with lips pursed, obviously uncomfortable, frustrated, and humiliated by his current position. For a moment it seemed as if he had clammed up, but finally he cleared his throat and tried his best to hold on to what small bit of dignity he had left. “No. She did write to me, threaten me, but it was only later, after I started to gain some national recognition as a poet, that she started getting nasty. She smelled money, I suppose. It brought out the worst in her. She threatened to go public, to tell the newspapers what had happened. I had no choice. I offered to pay her to keep her silent. She’s been bleeding me dry ever since.” He paused, thinking. “I suppose that’s how she paid for that house of hers. She could never have paid for that on her salary as a part-time columnist, could she?”

  “How long has this been going on?” Candy asked.

  Sebastian shrugged. “Ten years? Twelve? I’ve lost count—and lost track of how much I’ve paid her.” His head dropped. “It’s been torment.”

  Cameron let out a snort of derision. “Torment? You don’t know the meaning of the word. No matter what you’ve experienced, it’s nothing compared to what my mother’s been through”—he stopped abruptly, and corrected himself—“what she went through.” Struck by the sudden realization that his mother was really, truly gone, he shuddered, closed his eyes, and swayed perceptibly. For a moment he appeared overwhelmed, and any anger he had left went out of him then, gone forever.

  Everyone in the room felt his grief. Amanda went to him in a rush, her hair flying out behind her, and gave him a hug, a tear falling down her cheek. Candy felt her emotions well up in her as well, and even Maggie wiped at her eyes. “Look at me,” she said with a soft, disbelieving laugh. “I’m crying for Sapphire.”

  Candy put a hand on her friend’s shoulder. “So you’re human.”

  Maggie gave her a teary smile. “Yeah, I guess so. Who’da thunk it, huh?” She paused. “You know, it’s funny. . . .”

  Candy looked at her inquisitively. “What?”

  “Well . . . this might sound strange, but I think I finally understand Sapphire. She was a woman who lost the love of her life—both loves of her life, first David, then her child—when she was still a young girl. It must have nearly destroyed her. I’m sure it changed her mentally and emotionally. She must have never been the same after that. That’s why she changed her name. After David was killed and her baby was taken away from her, the girl known as Susan Jane Vincent must have died in some way, and the only way she could go on living was to change her name, her whole persona—to become someone else. Sapphire Vine was no Susan Jane Vincent. She was one tough cookie. She wasn’t about to let this world get the better of her. She decided to fight back—and she did until the very end.”

  Sebastian cleared his throat. “I can certainly vouch for that,” he said, looking visibly moved. “She made sure she got what she wanted, right up until the end. It wasn’t a fluke I showed up here this summer, you know. That was her idea. She called me a few months ago and told me that if I did one last ‘favor’ for her she would leave me alone and wouldn’t contact me again. Naturally I agreed. She arranged for this ‘vacation’ and found this nice cottage for me. And then she made sure I conveniently got a spot as a judge for the pageant. I’m not sure how she pulled that off, but she was a very resourceful woman, as you by now have no doubt guessed. She set the whole thing up magnificently. Of course, it was all part of her plan to win the competition. She pretended she didn’t know me, treated me like a stranger in town. But she knew what she was doing. She had it all planned out.”

  “So you threw your votes her way?” Candy asked.

  “Of course. Isn’t that obvious?”

  Candy nodded. Indeed it was. Herr Georg had told her that even though he voted for Sapphire, he didn’t think the votes of a single judge could decide the contest. But the votes of two judges . . .

  “Did you see her after the pageant?” Candy asked suddenly.

  Again, Sebastian’s lips clamped tight, and Candy was about to threaten him, but finally he relented and nodded. “Once.”

  “When?”

  “The day before she died.”

  “You’re lying,” Cameron shot out.

  Sebastian shook his head resignedly. “’Fraid not, kid. Yeah, I saw her—Sunday night, the day after the pageant. She called me after everything was over and insisted I stop by her place. I didn’t know what to expect, but mostly I was just hoping the whole thing was over, once and for all. But it wasn’t. Oh, she was thrilled to win the crown, of course. But when I showed up at her house, she told me she needed more money. Can you believe it? She was the Blueberry Queen now, she said. She had newfound status. She needed a whole new wardrobe so she could look good around town. And she wanted another five thousand dollars from me. Five thousand!”

  He shook his head in disbelief. “I told her I wasn’t giving her any more money, that we had made an agreement. But she just laughed at me. She called me a fool. She threatened to tell everyone I was a fraud, that my Pulitzer Prize-winning book had been written by her long-dead boyfriend.”

  “Is that when you decided to kill her?” Cameron asked, his voice simmering.

  Sebastian sighed. “For the thousandth time—I didn’t kill her. I wasn’t even in town the night she was killed.”

  That caught Candy by surprise. “What do you mean?”

  “Just what I said—I wasn’t even around this nutty town. I was in Bangor.”

  “I don’t believe you,” Cameron said.

  “You have to, because it’s the truth. I can prove it.”

  “What were you doing in Bangor?” Maggie asked.

  Sebastian gave her a tired smile. “Untie me and I’ll show you.”

  Maggie shook her head. “No way, mister. That ain’t happening until you tell us everything.”

  “I’ve already told you everything,” Sebastian said with a deep sigh. “Sapphire was blackmailing me, yes. But I had nothing to do with her death. Look, this is all a huge misunderstanding. Untie me now and I won’t press charges—we’ll just let the whole thing go.”

  “What were you doing up in Bangor?” Maggie repeated.

  Finally Sebastian relented. “If you must know, I was seeing a lady friend—an admirer of mine. And before you say you don’t believe me again, check the dresser in the bedroom.” He nodded up the stairs. “On the top of the dresser you’ll find all the receipts, for everything.”

  Maggie shot Candy a look, and Candy nodded. She moved quickly, across the room and up the narrow stairs to the second floor. She was gone for a few moments, as everyone waited anxiously. Finally she bounded back down the stairs, holding several small receipts in her hand. “Let him go,” she said softly. “He’s telling the truth.”

  THIRTY-FOUR

  Bones cracked in protest as Sebastian J. Quinn rose uneasily, rubbing at his sore arms and shoulders and knees, which had stiffened during the time he had been kept prisoner in the chair. Candy had found a knife in a kitchen drawer and cut him loose, causing not a small amount of pain and discomfort as she and Maggie had pulled the duct tape off him. But he sat patiently during the process, wincing only occasionally, and now remained standing near the chair as Candy moved to the dining room table, where she had laid out all the receipts in a neat line.

  “This is the hotel receipt—and here’s the date.”

  “Monday,” Maggie noticed, with a glance at Sebastian, “just like he said.”

  “He could have checked in and then driven back to my mom’s house,” Cameron observed.

  Candy nodded. “He could have—it’s not that long of a drive—but he didn’t.” She pointed to the next receipt. “This one’s for dinner, that same night. Check the time on the receipt—nine forty-five. You figure an hour or so for dinner—that mea
ns they sat down at around eight thirty.”

  “We had an eight-fifteen reservation,” Sebastian confirmed, “and drinks at the bar before that.”

  Maggie’s eyes widened when she noticed the total amount of the check. She whistled. “Three hundred thirty-five dollars. Must have been some dinner.”

  “Two bottles of wine—and expensive wine at that,” Candy said, pointing to the receipt with her pinky.

  “It was a special occasion,” Sebastian explained, sounding annoyed at the scrutiny.

  Maggie studied him with newfound interest. “She must be one lucky lady. Anyone I know?”

  Sebastian squared his shoulders and clasped his hands behind him. “An old admirer, as I said. I cannot reveal her name, of course. I’ve given her my assurances of complete discretion.”

  “She’s probably married,” Maggie muttered under her breath to Candy.

  “Looks like they hit a club after that,” Candy said, pointing to a third receipt.

  “Kicking up the light fantastic?” Maggie asked of Sebastian.

  “Something like that.”

  “And he’s got an alibi for later that night too,” Candy continued, pointing to the hotel receipt again. “See here—they ordered room service at twelve thirty. Expensive too.”

  “Champagne, if you must know.” Sebastian sniffed.

  “Wined and dined her, huh?” Maggie said with a sly smile.

  “And they ordered room service again, for breakfast at eight A.M.,” Candy pointed out. “Looks like they spent the night together.”

  Sebastian cleared his throat, trying his hardest to maintain his dignity. “As I’ve said, I have promised the utmost in discretion, and I hope I can count on the same from you. I’ve shown these receipts to you only as a last resort, as evidence that I wasn’t in town on the night Ms. Vine was killed. But they are not for public knowledge. Besides yourselves, no one else knows of this . . . rendezvous . . . other than the police, of course.”

  “The police have questioned you?” Candy asked in surprise.

  “Naturally. I believe they questioned everyone connected with the pageant. They assured me it was just a part of a routine investigation. They were completely satisfied as to my innocence in this unfortunate matter. I hope you are the same.” He paused, looking at each of them in turn. “I believe I’ve kept to my word and proved that what I’ve said is true. I may be a scoundrel . . . perhaps even a thief. But I am not a murderer.” He rubbed at his wrists. “That should put an end to this matter, once and for all. Now . . . will you be requiring anything else of me, or may I enjoy what remains of this unmemorable evening in some sort of relative peace, with what small bit of honor and dignity is left to me?”

  Cameron glowered at him, some part of him still refusing to believe, but Candy knew they had pushed their luck—and Sebastian’s patience—as far as they dared. She gathered the receipts together and handed them back to Sebastian. “I think we’ve taken enough of your time.”

  “Indeed you have. It has been . . . interesting, to be sure. At least you came to the right decision,” Sebastian said, taking the receipts. “So we have an agreement?”

  Candy glanced at Maggie and Cameron, then nodded. “We’ll keep quiet about all this, if you agree not to press charges against Cameron.”

  “You have my word as a gentleman,” Sebastian said with a slight bow.

  But Cameron shook his head. “This isn’t right. What about my dad’s poetry? None of this changes the fact that you stole his writings and published them as your own.”

  Candy and Maggie looked warily at Sebastian, who pursed his lips together. “Hmm. You’re right. But my guess is that everything will work itself out in your favor soon enough, young man. You’ll be getting an inheritance, you know.”

  That caught Cameron unaware. He was silent a moment as confusion edged into his anger. “What?”

  “Your mother’s house, of course. She’ll have left it to you, since you’re her only kin. You should have heard from her attorney by now. Have you been contacted by a lawyer?”

  “He’s right!” Maggie said excitedly, turning to Cameron. “Have you received any phone calls this week? Or letters?”

  Cameron’s face twisted in thought as he shook his head. “I . . . I don’t know. I haven’t been home much. I guess I haven’t paid much attention to that sort of thing.”

  “Of course not,” Sebastian said knowingly. “You’ve had a lot on your mind. But my guess is there’s a letter waiting for you, or a phone message, if you check when you get home. The reading of the will should take place any day now.”

  “The will?”

  “Oh yes, I’m certain your mother had a will. And if I know her, she’s left you not only the house but a sizeable bank account. Rest assured, most of that is your father’s money. What your mother took from me, from residuals from your father’s work, she put into the house, and probably socked the rest of it away. So you see, it’s all coming back to you after all.”

  Cameron’s expression brightened. “It is?”

  “Oh yes.” Sebastian raised a finger in sudden realization. “Oh, and I have something else for you.” He turned and disappeared up the stairs, returning a few moments later with a large manila envelope, stuffed full. He walked to Cameron and held it out to the teenager.

  Cameron eyed the package suspiciously. “What’s that?”

  “Take a look. I think you might be pleasantly surprised.”

  Cameron hesitated, but upon playful prodding and a whisper of encouragement from Amanda, he took the envelope. He studied it in his hands, then looked up at Sebastian with questioning eyes. For a moment Candy thought he might hand the envelope back to the poet, but his curiosity finally got the best of him. He tugged at the envelope’s end flap and peered inside.

  He seemed to sense then what the envelope held, and reached inside cautiously with thumb and forefinger, withdrawing a sheet of paper, one among many. He unfolded it carefully, wincing slightly as it crackled with age, and gazed at the page, his eyes shifting back and forth as he puzzled over the tight handwriting he found on the sheet. His brows came together. “Is this what I think it is?”

  “It’s what’s left of your father’s poetry,” Sebastian said. “I brought it up here with me, intending to hand it back to your mother once this whole business with her—the blackmailing, that is—was finished. But when she went back on her deal, I decided to keep it a while longer. Your father passed that envelope to me nearly twenty years ago. He valued my opinion back then, I suppose. I meant to read it and pass it back to him, but, well, I never had the chance. Some of it has been published—in my first book—but much of it remains unpublished. You see, I’m not a complete thief—I didn’t steal everything of his. I’m not sure what I planned to do with it, but that doesn’t matter now. It’s yours.”

  Cameron read the words on the page again, then carefully folded the sheet and placed it back into the envelope, which he now held tightly, close to his chest, as if it were a great treasure, and in truth, for him at that moment, no treasure could have held more value. He opened his mouth to speak but shut it quickly, as if uncertain what to say. Finally he said the only thing he could think of.

  “Thanks.”

  “You know,” Sebastian continued, “I’m sure there’s more than one agent who would be thrilled to get his or her hands on what you’ve got in that envelope there. If you were so inclined, you could gather your father’s poetry together and publish a new book—posthumously, under his name this time.” He paused. “Should you require assistance, I would be glad to provide what expertise I could—completely free of charge, of course.” He smiled, then added sincerely, “Your father was a good poet, Cameron. The world should be able to read the rest of his work.”

  For the first time that night—for the first time in several days, perhaps even weeks—Cameron looked hopeful. “You really think I could get these published?”

  “I’m sure of it.”

  “Well, then
, yeah, I’d like to do that.”

  “Excellent!” Sebastian said. “Before I leave town next week, you and I can sit down and we’ll get started.”

  “Well, I guess that settles it then,” Maggie said with a wide smile, clapping her hands together.

  But Candy had a difficult time sharing her friend’s enthusiasm. “Not quite. Don’t forget about Ray. He’s still in jail.”

  Maggie’s smile faltered. “Oh yeah. I guess it slipped my mind.”

  “And there’s one big question that still hasn’t been answered—who killed Sapphire Vine?”

  “Yes. Yes, I see, you’re right,” Sebastian said thoughtfully, his fingers stroking his beard. He looked up quickly then, around at the others. “Well, obviously, it wasn’t me, was it?” he reiterated, just in case anyone had forgotten. “But who else could it have been then?” He considered the problem for a moment, then an eyebrow rose as a thought struck him. “Perhaps one of the other judges?”

  “What?” Candy’s ears perked up. “What makes you say that?”

  Sebastian tilted his head and his gaze narrowed. “Well, it makes sense, doesn’t it? Consider the facts: Sapphire blackmailed me into voting for her, but my votes alone probably were not enough to throw the pageant her way. Perhaps she was blackmailing another.”

  “Perhaps,” Candy agreed, still unwilling to tell him of Herr Georg’s part in Sapphire’s pageant scheme.

  But what if there had been a third judge involved? Candy mused.

  “Furthermore,” Sebastian continued, “she was killed just two days after the pageant. Very suspicious, I would say—it suggests there must have been some connection. And then, of course, there’s the matter of Jock Larson.”