Town in a Strawberry Swirl (Candy Holliday Mystery)

by Haywood, B. B.

  Candy shivered uncontrollably. “Someone hit him over the head with a shovel?”

  The chief’s mouth tightened. “It’s over here. If you’ll come with me.”

  He detoured around the body, following the path as it cut directly across the raised bed on the right. They walked on a plank that had been laid across neat rows of lettuce, so close to the sloping side of the hoophouse that the chief had to tilt his head away from the encroaching plastic wall.

  After another half-dozen paces, he crossed back over on the other side of the bed, just past the body. At the edge he stopped and pointed down at the central aisle.

  Candy followed him in silence. She stopped beside him and looked down.

  An old farm shovel lay across the aisle, as if it had been dropped there by accident. The wood handle was dark with age, the blade dull, marked by deep streaks and scratches from years of heavy use. Candy had seen dozens like it. They had several out at Blueberry Acres that could have matched this one exactly. It was a tool of the farmer’s and gardener’s trade.

  “You’ll notice,” the chief said, still pointing, “that there’s a marking on the handle.”

  “A marking?” Candy looked.

  Indeed, there was.

  It was faded but still legible. Just two thick letters, written in a steady hand with a black marker.

  B.A.

  “You have any idea what that refers to?” the chief asked, looking back at her with an odd expression on his face.

  Candy felt a tightening in her stomach. Her mouth went suddenly dry. “I do,” she said softly. “Doc marks a lot of his tools like that. They tend to get passed around sometimes, so he wanted to make sure they always found their way home.”

  She pulled her gaze from the alleged murder weapon and looked up at the chief, the shock evident in her voice as she spoke. “That shovel is from Blueberry Acres.”

  SIX

  Chief Durr grunted in acknowledgement. “Doc said the same thing. We just wanted to get your corroboration. That’s why we had him call you, and asked him not to say anything to you about that shovel. So, Ms. Holliday.” The chief’s eyes bored into her. “I’m wondering how a shovel with the initials B.A. written on the handle made it from your farm all the way out here to Crawford’s Berry Farm. And I’m wondering how it wound up at a crime scene as the possible murder weapon. You got any ideas about how that might have happened?”

  There was nothing accusatory in his tone, but plenty of curiosity.

  Candy gave him the most honest answer she could. “No, Chief, I don’t. I’m as baffled as you are.”

  “Does the shovel look familiar to you?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Do you remember seeing it out at Blueberry Acres?”

  “Yes.”

  “So you can confirm it belongs to you and Doc?”

  Candy hesitated, and blinked a couple of times. “Yes.”

  “When’s the last time you remember seeing it?”

  Candy had to think about that one for a while. “I don’t know, really. We’re busy out there. We come and go. We’re both out in the fields a lot. Things get carried around by both of us, as well as by our helpers when they come out. We have a bunch of shovels, of different types. They’re kept in the barn.”

  “Do you remember seeing this particular shovel recently, say, within the past week? Or the past month?”

  “No.”

  “Within the past two months?”

  A pause. “No. Not within the past few months.”

  “When do you remember last seeing it?”

  Again, Candy had to take a few moments to think. “It was around the farm in the fall, I’m fairly sure of that,” she said finally. “I remember getting it out to clean the chicken coop before winter. It went back in the barn then, into a back corner with the other gardening tools at the end of fall, when the snow shovels and rock salt came out. After that, I don’t know.”

  “So it disappeared from the farm sometime within the past nine months?”

  Candy carefully went back over everything in her mind before she answered. “Yes, I think that’s correct, to the best of my recollection.”

  “Okay.” The chief appeared to make a mental note. “That gives us a starting timeline, at least. Now we just have to pinpoint exactly when it disappeared and who was around the farm during that time period.”

  “You’re surmising someone took it from Blueberry Acres?”

  “It’s one possible scenario,” the chief said.

  “Yes, I suppose it is,” Candy admitted, scrunching up her mouth. It made her think. Could someone who had been out at Blueberry Acres recently taken the shovel from their barn, brought it out here to Crawford’s Berry Farm, and used it to beat Miles Crawford over the head—more than one time, according to the chief?

  Candy just couldn’t conceive of it. No one who had visited Blueberry Acres seemed capable of such an act.

  The chief was still giving her a hard look. “We’ll need a list of everyone who’s been out at Blueberry Acres over that period of time.”

  Candy nodded absently, her mind starting to assemble faces, dates, and names. “I’ll put one together for you. But it could be a pretty long list.”

  “Would Miles Crawford be on it?” the chief asked matter-of-factly. “Could he have taken that shovel from Blueberry Acres himself?”

  Candy shook her head. “Not as far as I know. I never saw him out there, though it’s possible he stopped by sometime while I was away, and I just never heard about it, or something like that.”

  “Doc said the same thing,” Chief Durr confirmed. “So it appears we have agreement on that point, at least. For now, we can rule out the possibility that Miles himself picked up that shovel at your farm and brought it here.”

  “And what are the other possibilities?” Candy asked.

  The chief lifted his cap and scratched his head at the hairline. “Well, there are several, as I see it. One, I have to consider the fact that Doc was the first person on the scene, and the probable murder weapon belongs to him.”

  Candy felt a chill. “You don’t think my dad had anything to do with this, do you? I mean, with the murder?”

  Chief Durr shrugged. “We have to consider all the possibilities.”

  “Is Dad a suspect?”

  The chief didn’t answer her question directly. “We just have to figure out what happened here, Ms. Holliday. Obviously you’re both involved at this point.”

  “Obviously,” Candy said, and she felt another chill as the reality set in.

  They’d both been drawn into another murder in town.

  Candy looked back down at the shovel. “My fingerprints are probably on that,” she said after a few moments. “And Dad’s.”

  “Probably,” the chief agreed, his face tightening in thought. “We’ll check that out, of course. I believe we have your prints on file from a previous case, but we’ll ask Doc to stop by the station this afternoon.”

  “Of course,” Candy said. She looked down at the sneakers on her feet. “Footprints?”

  The chief tilted his head toward a number of small yellow flags, inserted at various spots in the wet dirt along the central aisle. “We found Doc’s, of course. They’re still fresh and well defined, so they’re easy to spot. We’ve got them marked off. We’re still examining the others we’ve found. We’ll let you know if we need an accounting of your footwear.”

  He turned back toward her. “It’s the shovel I’m most focused on at the moment, Ms. Holliday. Do you think it’s possible Doc might have brought it out here at some point over the past few months, left it here by mistake, and then just forgotten about it? Maybe he doesn’t remember leaving it out here.”

  Candy crossed her arms and took a deep breath. “Well, it’s possible, I suppose. Doc has been a little forgetful lately. Senior moments, I think they call them. But I’m sure he’d remember if he left a shovel out here, especially given what’s happened to Miles. Maybe he left it some
where else, and it eventually found its way out here.”

  “Hmm, well, yes, maybe. But maybe it’s something else.” The chief’s gaze turned steely. “I assume you can account for your whereabouts this morning?”

  Caught off guard by the question, Candy took a moment to answer. “Yes, of course. I was at the office.”

  “What time did you arrive there this morning?”

  “A little before nine.”

  “And before that?”

  “I stopped in at the diner with Dad.”

  “I suppose I can find witnesses to corroborate your information?”

  “Of course.” Candy shivered. “What’s this all about, Chief?”

  He studied her for a moment before responding. “Here’s the thing, Ms. Holliday. I’ve got a dead body here, who used to be a fine upstanding citizen of this community. I have an alleged murder weapon lying right next to the body—a shovel you just admitted is from your farm. And it was your father who discovered the body, with no apparent witnesses around to verify his testimony. I’m going to be frank—this is looking pretty serious for you and Doc right now. So if I were you, I’d put your two heads together and try to figure out how that shovel wound up out here at the berry farm. Make that list of everyone who’s been out to Blueberry Acres since the beginning of the year—friends, neighbors, handymen, delivery trucks, whatever else you can think of. I’ve asked Officer Prospect to help you and Doc with that. I need you to get it to me as soon as you can.”

  He settled the cap back on his heat, turned abruptly, and started back the way they’d come, along the raised bed between the rows of lettuce. He spoke back over his shoulder as he walked briskly along the cordoned-off path. “You can e-mail me whatever you put together. And call me if you think of anything else. You have my card?”

  Candy nodded as she followed the chief along the narrow pathway. “In a pocket in the bag. I have several of them. I carry them with me at all times.”

  “Smart thinking, considering all that’s happened in the community over the past few years.” He stopped and turned back to her. “And there’s one more thing I have to ask of you, Ms. Holliday. And your father as well.”

  “What’s that, Chief?”

  He gave her an enigmatic smile. “Don’t leave town.”

  SEVEN

  By the time she made it back down to the police cruiser, Officer Prospect had finished interviewing Doc, and they were in the process of putting together a list of recent visitors to Blueberry Acres.

  Candy felt a little guilty as she checked the names on the list, realizing that every one on it was a good friend or longtime acquaintance of hers. There was Ray Hutchins, the local handyman, right at the top. Herr Georg and Maggie, both of whom had visited numerous times individually. And Maggie’s daughter, Amanda, and her fiancé, Cameron Zimmerman, college students who had stopped by during spring break. All three of the boys in Doc’s posse were represented—Finn Woodbury, Artie Groves, and Bumpy Brigham. Tristan Pruitt, an acquaintance of Candy’s, had stopped by over Memorial Day weekend while in town to visit his aunt, Helen Ross Pruitt. Marjorie Coffin, who supplied bees for the blueberry fields every spring, was on the list as well, along with several members of her growing brood.

  Candy had almost forgotten that Colin Trevor Jones, the executive chef at the Lightkeeper’s Inn, had stopped by around Eastertime for dinner and an informal interview conducted by Candy for the paper. Jesse Kidder, who worked at the Crier as a photographer and graphic designer, had driven her home a few times when she needed a lift. So had Judy Crockett, the paper’s sales rep. The Reverend James P. Daisy had made an impromptu visit one warm spring afternoon, bringing along his statuesque wife, Gabriella. Even Wanda Boyle had stopped by a few times. The list went on and on, a literal who’s who of Cape Willington, Maine.

  Could they all possibly be suspects? It seemed insane. It was insane. Candy couldn’t imagine any of them taking a shovel from the barn without permission, let alone sneaking up behind Miles Crawford and banging him over the head with it.

  So if not any of them, then who?

  Had the shovel actually been stolen from Blueberry Acres? Or had it found its way out to Crawford’s Berry Farm by another route? Through someone else’s hands?

  That got her thinking in a different direction.

  Who had a motive to kill Miles Crawford?

  Candy mulled over the question, and briefly considered a number of possibilities. But one name stuck out above the others, for obvious reasons: Lydia St. Graves.

  Lydia, rumored to have been involved in secret real estate negotiations with Miles for the sale of the berry farm. Lydia, who just a short while ago had almost run Candy off the road in her haste to get away from . . . what? A crime scene? A dead body? Incriminating evidence?

  Had Lydia taken the shovel out to the berry farm? And if so, had she used it on Miles?

  But why leave it there for the police to find? Why not take it with her after she had used it to do the dirty deed?

  Candy waited until there was a break in the conversation between Officer Prospect and her father. “Dad,” she interjected, “can I ask you a question?”

  He turned toward her curiously. “Sure, pumpkin, what is it?”

  “I was just talking to Chief Durr. He said there were no witnesses when you discovered the body.”

  Doc nodded. “That’s right.”

  “So no one else was around?”

  Doc squinted at her and answered without hesitation. “No one. The place was deserted, which I thought was a little strange, especially since it’s berry-picking season.”

  “You didn’t see any other cars?”

  “Other cars? Where?”

  “Here in the parking lot?”

  “Nope, the lot was empty. No cars. Just my old truck—and Miles’s vehicles, which were around. His truck and station wagon.”

  “No convertible?”

  “Convertible? No, ’course not. Why?”

  Candy shifted her gaze toward the house and the outbuildings. “Could there have been another car parked around here somewhere? On the other side of the house perhaps, or behind the barn?”

  Doc looked out at the surrounding buildings as he considered the question. After a few moments he shrugged. “It’s possible, I suppose. But if there was someone else out here, I didn’t see ’em. I’ve already told that to the chief. Why?”

  Molly Prospect leaned forward in the driver’s seat and looked across at Candy, her thin black brows knitted together. “What’s this all about, Ms. Holliday?”

  “Honestly, I’m not sure.”

  “If you have any information that might help with the investigation, I’d sure like to hear it.”

  “Well . . .”

  Candy hesitated. There were already plenty of rumors swirling around town. She didn’t want to add to them without any real evidence of wrongdoing. Lydia could simply have been coming from some property she managed. Maybe she’d been showing a house to a potential buyer, and had been simply speeding back to town for another meeting. Any suspicions Candy had about her were purely circumstantial.

  Still . . .

  “Look, I’m not trying to get anyone in trouble, but I might have witnessed some suspicious activity on my way out here this morning.”

  The policewoman’s dark eyes narrowed. “Might have? What type of suspicious activity are we talking about?”

  “Well, I think I possibly saw someone fleeing the premises.”

  “The premises? You mean you saw someone leaving this farm? Who exactly are we talking about?”

  Again, a hesitation, but Candy took a deep breath and pressed on. “Lydia St. Graves.”

  Doc looked surprised. “You saw Lydia out here?”

  “Well, no, not out here at the farm. But I think I saw her driving away from it.” And Candy explained how Lydia, in her silver BMW convertible, had come blazing out of nowhere and run her right off the road.

  “And when did this happen? How long ag
o?”

  Candy told her.

  The policewoman checked her watch. “So about half an hour ago or so?”

  Candy nodded. “That sounds right.”

  “I’d better let the chief know.” Officer Prospect picked up a walkie-talkie sitting on the top of the dashboard, clicked a side button, and exchanged a few quick words with Chief Durr up at the hoophouse.

  “We’ll send a car over to her office to check it out,” the policewoman told Candy after she’d finished talking to the chief, “and I’ll need to fill out an incident report.”

  “Of course,” Candy said, and ten minutes later, with that complete, they turned back to the list of visitors to Blueberry Acres. “The chief wants us to remain focused on the shovel,” Officer Prospect informed Doc and Candy as she tapped the list, which was attached to a clipboard.

  They wound up with twenty-seven names, including Doc’s and Candy’s. That worried her, knowing they were suspects themselves. And even though she knew she could prove neither of them had anything to do with Miles’s murder, their shovel had been found at the crime scene, and as the chief had said, that meant they were involved. At the very least they were responsible for letting the shovel slip through their hands, whenever and however that had happened.

  As they reviewed the list again, Officer Prospect prodded Doc and Candy for additional information. “Can you think of anyone else who might have taken the shovel?” she asked in a coaxing tone. “Anyone out at the farm who might have looked suspicious? Anyone borrowing tools or asking odd questions? Or were there any strange incidents you can think of? Has something special or out of the ordinary happened over the past few months?”

  Doc considered the questions, rubbing his chin. “Well, there were a few milestones, of course. I turned seventy a few months ago, in April.”

  The policewoman brightened. “Oh, I didn’t know that! Happy birthday, Doc!”