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.
FORTY-FIVE
Candy reacted instinctively, turning and ducking out of the way just in time. The tip of the shovel’s steel blade swept just past the side of her head, missing her by inches. She could feel the force of air pushing against her as it passed by. It seemed to propel her whole body backward, away from immediate danger, toward the rear wall of the barn.
There was a sound of frustration, as a distressed animal might make, and then the figure came at her, the shovel swinging back and forth, tearing wildly through the air. Candy scrambled back on all fours, the cell phone slipping from her grasp. Everything was moving too fast, and her brain registered only pieces of her attacker—heavy boots, gloved hands, the swish of a polyester knee-length patterned dress. She still couldn’t make out the face. It was shadowed and too indistinct for her to tell who it was.
But that didn’t matter right now. All that mattered was staying alive. Candy’s head twisted left and right, searching for an escape, a weapon, anything. Her gaze alighted on her cell phone, which she’d dropped in her haste to escape. It had fallen to the cement floor several feet away. Again, in an instinctive move, she reached out for it. But the shadowed figure saw what she was doing. A moment later the steel blade came down heavily with great force, smacking into the plastic-and-glass phone just as Candy’s fingertips groped for it. The device cracked and splintered apart under the attack.
Candy withdrew her hand just in time as she backed away even farther, until she hit something solid behind her—the far wall.
She was out of room. She had no place to go.
And her attacker seemed to know it.
The shovel paused at the top of its arc. The attacker was breathing heavily, augmented by the sound of the rising wind outside.
“You can’t run now, can you?”
“Who are you?” Candy managed to say. “What do you want?”
“You know what I want—I want what was in that chest. All of it.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Oh yes you do. I got the coins and gold and jewels. Took them off the bed upstairs. Now I want the deeds.”
“The deeds?” Candy drew herself up as best she could, so she was sitting relatively straight, her back against the wall. She wiped a hand across her face, trying to think clearly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“They were in that big leather pouch in the chest. The deeds to properties all over Cape Willington. They were part of the deal.”
“What deal? I don’t know anything about a deal.” As she talked, Candy searched surreptitiously for any way of escape. She’d bought herself a few moments. If she could just keep the other woman talking long enough to figure a way out of this . . .
The shovel hovered. “They belonged to Silas Sykes. He got them from some local Indians who claimed to have the rights to this land.”
“He . . . he what?” Candy shifted her gaze back to the figure standing in front of her. She studied the facial features. “Morgan? Is that you?”
The shovel teetered again and began to move, swinging in an arc toward her.
But then her attacker howled and stumbled to the side. The shovel shifted in mid-arc and fell away.
An instant later Candy saw why.
Neil had briefly awakened, and with all the effort he had left, he’d kicked out with his heavy boot, striking the dark figure in the back of the knee. It had been a feeble attempt but with enough force to disrupt the trajectory of the shovel and throw the wielder off balance.
Candy knew her moment to act was now. Without thinking about what she was doing, she pushed herself off the wall and sprang forward with every bit of energy and power she had. She made a move for the shovel, but the shadowed figure moved for it as well, angling toward it. Their two hands reached it at the same time.
As the figure bent closer, Candy got her first good look at the other woman’s face.
It wasn’t Morgan Sykes Kingsbury.
“Della,” Candy breathed in surprise.
In that moment, everything shifted.
Knowing she’d been found out, Della Swain backed away from the shovel. She straightened and stared down at Candy, a shocked expression on her face.
“What are you doing?” Candy asked, and suddenly, surprisingly, she found herself growing angry at the woman.
The rain began to fall then, splattering in thick drops to the ground just outside the barn doors.
Candy’s fingers firmly clasped the handle of the shovel. She tilted the end of the handle upward, blade on the floor, and used it to push herself to a standing position. She lifted the shovel then, holding it in two hands, one out near the end of the handle and the other up toward the blade, in a defensive posture. “Just what do you think you’re doing?” she repeated.
Della looked at a loss for words. “It . . . it wasn’t supposed to happen like this,” she stammered. “We . . . we had it all figured out. We tried to talk some sense into him but he just wouldn’t listen, so we had to do what we did to save the strawberry fields. They’re too important to this town. But he said he’d made up his mind. He said Lydia was helping him, so we had no choice but to—”
Then it all clicked into place for Candy. “You did it, didn’t you? You lured Lydia out here. What did you do? Sneak into Miles’s house when he was out making deliveries yesterda
y morning and send that e-mail to Lydia using his computer, telling her to meet him in the hoophouse?” Candy paused a moment, realizing what she’d just said. “That’s it, isn’t it? You probably received all the e-mails Miles sent out about the farm, telling people when he was making deliveries and when the berries were ready for picking. You knew he’d be out.” She paused again, her mind working. “That’s why you told Lydia not to respond to the e-mail, isn’t it? To delete it instead? So Miles wouldn’t find out about it, until . . .”
“But we had to,” Della said, almost in a pleading voice. “We just wanted to save the farm. But then Lydia figured out . . .”
Her eyes grew wide as she realized what she was saying, and she clamped her mouth shut, pursing her lips tight. To make sure she didn’t say anything else, she held a hand up to her face, covering the lower half. She looked like she’d just been discovered robbing a bank. Her gaze shifted wildly from Candy to the shovel to Neil and back.
Then she turned and ran.
She headed out the far door and angled to her right. Moments later, Candy heard a car door slam and an engine start. The tan sedan flashed past the open door on the right, circled around the western side of the barn, and came back around from the other direction, speeding along the driveway. For a moment Candy thought Della might actually drive right into the barn and try to run them both over. But she drove on past, nearly clipping Neil’s Saab before her car thumped and roared its way down the dirt lane toward the main road.
Candy’s grip on the shovel lightened, and she dropped it to the ground. She let out a long, ragged breath as she ran to Neil’s side.
FORTY-SIX
Her phone was busted, broken beyond repair, so she used Neil’s to call 9-1-1.
Then she called her father. He arrived ten minutes later in a frenzy, right after an ambulance and a police car came up the dirt lane, sirens blaring.
The next half hour was a blur to her. Neil was awake again, though groggy. “Treasure,” he managed to say. “Coins.” But no one was listening to him. They told him to stay quiet, stay calm, conserve his energy, and stay awake. Candy took his hand for a few moments, right before they loaded his stretcher into the back of the ambulance.
“Random,” was the only other word he was able to speak.
“Don’t worry. We’ll take care of him,” Candy said, feeling herself tearing up. The weight of what had just happened was beginning to sink into her.
But she found she had no time to be emotional, or contemplative, right now. Chief Darryl Durr had plenty of questions for her. She did her best to answer, telling him about Della Swain, the shovel, the alleged treasure that everyone seemed to be after—though neither she nor Doc really knew what had been inside Silas Sykes’s chest, and a search of the house and property turned up no real answers.
“Neil must have found something in the house,” Candy said, “but whatever it was, Della took it with her. She mentioned something about gold and coins and jewels.”
“We’ve got an all-alert out,” the chief said. “We’ll find her. She can’t get away. We have the Cape sealed up.”
“What about a boat?” Doc asked.
“We’ve alerted the Maine marine patrol and the Coast Guard. They’re keeping an eye out for her.” The chief leaned forward then, put a hand on Candy’s shoulder, and looked her in the eyes. “Are you sure you’re all right, Ms. Holliday?” he asked, the concern evident in his tone.
“I’m taking her to the hospital right now,” Doc announced.
But Candy would have none of it. “No, Dad, I’m fine. Just a little shaken up, that’s all. What I really need to do is go home, sit down, put my feet up, and have a strong cup of tea.” She paused a moment. “Or maybe a shot of bourbon.”
“Done and done,” Doc said. “We’ve all had enough excitement for one day, that’s for sure.” He glanced over at Chief Durr. “I’m not sure my ticker can take much more of this murder stuff, I don’t mind telling you.”
“That goes for both of us.” The chief gave Candy a reassuring clap on the back. “Once again, Ms. Holliday, you got yourself right into the thick of things. Fortunately, again, it worked out okay this time. We appreciate your help, but we’ll take it from here.”
Outside, the rain had lightened. Her father escorted her out to the Jeep, where he gave her a hug. “Thank goodness you weren’t hurt,” he said. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“I’m fine, Dad.”
“Okay, listen.” He held her out at arm’s length and studied her face. “You go right home, lock the doors, and settle yourself in. No more adventures today.”
“Got it. Right.” She nodded. “Wait, where are you going?”
“I’m going to check on Neil. His dad’s gone and he has no one else here to help him out, so I just want to let him know he has our support.”
That made Candy reconsider. “Maybe I should go with you.”
“You’re certainly welcome to come along,” Doc said. “I’d be glad for your company, and I’d feel much better if we had someone at the hospital check you out. You just nearly got the stuffing beat out of you.”
Candy thought about it briefly, but finally shook her head. “I think I’ll just go home.”
Her father nodded and gave her another hug. “Whatever you think is best. Settle in and have that cup of tea. And be sure to lock all the windows and doors, just in case Della is still hanging around.”
Candy smiled weakly. “I’m not worried about her. I have a shotgun, and I know how to use it. And I’m pretty good with a hoe and a shovel too. I don’t think she’ll give me any more trouble.”
Doc smiled as well. “That’s my girl. I should be there in an hour or so, once I know if they’re going to keep Neil overnight or not. I’ll call you if I find out anything important.”
Her father watched her drive off, jumped in his truck, and followed her down the dirt lane to the main road. They both turned left toward town, and after a few miles Candy made another left on Wicker Road, which would take her out to Blueberry Acres. Doc continued on toward town, however, on his way to a small branch hospital on the far side of Fowler’s Corner.
Candy watched him pass by in her rearview mirror. She saw him wave in her direction, and then he disappeared, his old truck following a line of traffic headed east.
She pulled over to the side of the road, shut off the engine, and waited.
She checked her watch. She let a good five minutes go by. Then seven.
Finally, when she decided it was probably okay to move again, she started the engine and made a two-point turn in the middle of the road, heading back to the intersection. She made a left-hand turn and followed the route her father had taken into town a few minutes earlier.
She had every intention of settling in at home with a nice cup of tea. She also knew she had to check on Random and the chickens.
But first she had one last stop she wanted to make.
There were a few questions that still needed answers. And she knew just whom she had to see.
FORTY-SEVEN
Mrs. Fairweather’s house was darker than the last time Candy had been there, a couple of hours ago. It was close to seven thirty on one of the longest days of the year, but the lowering sky had pressed down upon them, squeezing out most of the day’s light. Some of the streetlights had come on, and a few of the homes along Shady Lane glowed warmly from within. The rain had tapered off, but the evening had a gloomy feel to it.
Candy parked the Jeep where she had before, in the gravel driveway. She switched off the engine and sat in the cabin for a few moments, staring out at the house. There was no light inside. The blinds and curtains were all shut. There was no movement that she could see, no sign of life. The place looked deserted.
She finally climbed out of the Jeep and walked toward the house, keeping her eyes on the front windows. But no curtain moved or blind angled up to indicate someone inside might be watching her.
She climbed the steps to the porch a
nd knocked on the door.
“Mrs. Fairweather,” she called in a controlled tone. “It’s Candy Holliday again.” She paused, then added, “I know you’re in there. Are you okay? I need to talk to you.”
She waited. Nothing.
She knocked again, louder this time. “Mrs. Fairweather?”
She put her ear close to the front door and listened.
After a few moments she heard a click, as if someone had unlocked the door from the inside. But the door remained shut. Candy rapped tentatively at it with her knuckles. “Mrs. Fairweather?”
This time, when she received no reply, she reached down and jiggled the door handle. To her surprise, it turned easily.
The door slid open a crack, with a low creak.
Candy peeked in hesitantly. “Mrs. Fairweather?”
She placed her hand on the wooden door and pushed it open a little farther, giving her a view of the dim hallway beyond. “Hello?”
The place still looked empty. But a light suddenly popped on in the kitchen at the far end of the hall. “Back here, dear,” came a faint voice.
Candy’s eyes flicked around, glancing at the dark rooms on either side of the hall. “Um, okay.”
She stepped inside and closed the door behind her, moving cautiously. She didn’t want a repeat of what she’d just encountered in the barn out at Crawford’s Berry Farm.
She started along the hallway, slipping quickly past a couple of dark doorways on the left and right. As she approached the kitchen at the rear, she surveyed it suspiciously, wondering if she was walking into an ambush.
But she needn’t have worried. There was no attack this time.
Mrs. Fairweather sat quietly at the kitchen table. Her hands were folded primly in front of her. She wore a dark blue dress with a white frill collar that looked like it might have been reserved for church and special occasions. Her hair was neatly done, though she looked pale, and her eyes were watery as she watched Candy enter the kitchen.
Town in a Strawberry Swirl (Candy Holliday Mystery) Page 25
