With that, she tossed her head and started off toward the library, walking around Candy, who turned in a half circle, her eyes following the other woman. “Actually, I have much more evidence than you realize.”
Julia stopped and looked back at her. “That box I just tossed away? I’ll tell the police it’s not mine. I’ll tell them someone else must have put it there.”
“You could, but I can prove you did it.”
Julia looked at her quizzically, her mouth twisting a bit in disbelief. “How?”
“I have the whole thing on video,” Candy said, and turning to her left, she waved an arm toward a nearby stand of tall bushes hugging the exterior wall of the library wing.
A moment later, the branches and leaves on the bushes shivered and began to part. Out stepped Wanda Boyle, dressed head to foot in camouflage, including a scarf around her neck and a camouflage hat, into which she’d tucked her red hair. She was carrying her phone, held out horizontally in front of her.
“Did you get all that?” Candy called to her.
Wanda waved a hand. “Got the entire conversation, boss. Also got video of her tossing the box into the Dumpster.”
“How’d the sound come out?”
“It’s a little faint because of the distance, but I could definitely make out every word she said. We got everything.”
Candy looked back at Julia, a satisfied expression on her face. “See? Proof.”
FIFTY
They both heard the sound of a siren then, cutting through the air. Candy turned and saw an approaching patrol car, which was just pulling into the library’s parking lot. “Ah, the police have arrived, right on cue,” she said.
Julia’s entire body visibly stiffened, and she looked like she was going to make a run for it. Her head turned first in one direction, then the other, and before Candy knew what was happening, the cookbook author took off at a run, headed for the library building.
“Hey!” Candy called after her. “Julia, wait!”
There really weren’t many places she could go, but Candy knew she had to follow. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the patrol car stop nearby. Both front doors popped open. Chief Durr got out on the left, while Tristan Pruitt emerged from the passenger seat. She motioned toward the library building “She’s going back inside!” she called out, and headed after Julia at a run.
She heard voices shouting behind her but didn’t stop. In seconds she reached the library’s front door and raced inside. The ladies behind the front checkout counter looked at her as if they were in a daze, surprised by the sudden activity. “Which way did she go?” Candy asked.
One of the ladies pointed toward the left. “Into nonfiction.”
“There’s a back door on that side, though it’s rigged with an alarm,” another woman said. “Plus, there are stairs up to the second-floor reading room.”
“There’s another door and a balcony up there,” a third woman added.
Candy nodded her thanks. “Let the chief know,” she said, and disappeared under an archway that led her into the library’s nonfiction section.
Stacks of books on metal shelves reached nearly to the ceiling. They stretched the entire way across the long room, from wall to wall. Candy remembered there were a couple of small private meeting rooms off to her left, and a staff room beyond the far wall. In the center of the stacks was a small reading area with tables and comfortable chairs.
Candy took a few steps forward and turned to her right, scanning the first aisle, its gray carpet looking bluish under fluorescent overhead lights.
No one there. She stepped forward again cautiously, checking the next aisle, and the next, moving quicker with each one.
She heard a shuffling sound somewhere off to her left, and turned into the next aisle, moving slower now, listening and keeping an eye out for Julia.
Too late she saw the large coffee table books spilling off the shelf to her left. They came crashing down onto her shoulder and back. One of them hit her solidly in her upper arm before she moved safely out of the way. “You’re throwing books at me?” she called out to Julia, incredulously.
“Stay away,” Julia called back. Candy could hear her footsteps retreating.
“You can’t escape,” Candy replied, still moving along the aisle. “The police are right behind me. It’s over, Julia. Give yourself up.”
She reached the end of the aisle and cautiously turned the corner, only to find a number of other heavy books being flung in her direction. She batted them away, grunting at the effort. But she had Julia in her sights now. The other woman was dashing along the row at the end of the aisles, heading for a door that led outside. In a few more steps she reached it and pushed on the bar. An alarm sounded instantly, but the door gave way, and Julia exited the building.
“She’s going out the back!” Candy called to no one in particular, and rushed after Julia, heading along the row and out the door.
But by the time she got outside it was already over. Tristan was just coming around the side of the building and practically caught Julia in his arms. She struggled for a few moments, flailing at him, and managed to break free. But a second police car appeared then, also coming around the corner of the building. An officer jumped out and managed to corral Julia before she could go any further.
“Hold on to her. I’m on my way,” Chief Durr said, coming up behind Candy as she sputtered to a stop. As he passed by her at a quick pace, he briefly slowed. “We’ll take it from here, Ms. Holliday.”
“You should check the Dumpster out by the parking lot,” Candy told him, pointing with her arm. “You’ll find a small box with two jars in it, including one belonging to Sally Ann. Plus, Wanda has Julia’s whole confession on video.”
The chief nodded. “We’re already taking care of the box, with Wanda’s help. Nice job.”
He gave her a tight smile before moving on to assist in the arrest of Julia von Fleming.
Candy bent over and placed her hands on her knees as Tristan approached her. “Are you all right?” he asked, sounding worried.
Candy nodded, taking a few breaths and brushing stray strands of hair out of her face.
“I got your text,” he said. “We just finished up the paperwork.”
“You get everything you need?” she asked.
He nodded. “It took some convincing—and of course the chief wasn’t thrilled with your involvement in this whole thing—but he agreed with your conclusion and took appropriate action. We have a search warrant for her car but I’m not sure we’ll need it now. It sounds like you’ve taken care of everything.”
“I had lots of help,” Candy said.
“You shouldn’t have gone after her like that. You could have been hurt. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Just a few minor bruises,” Candy admitted with a weak smile. “I never thought she would use books as weapons. I guess I felt the true power of the printed page.”
FIFTY-ONE
Night was falling by the time she drove back into downtown.
It was after six on a Sunday evening, and most of the stores along Main Street and Ocean Avenue were closed, though a few places, like the pizza parlor, were still open. The sky was clear, with bright stars beginning to appear overhead, and there was a chill in the air, a typical early fall New England evening. The sea beyond the rocky coast was dark and silent.
Candy had spent the entire afternoon at the police station, along with Wanda, Tristan, Maggie, Artie, and Sally Ann, answering questions, making statements, and receiving stern lectures about involving themselves in an official police investigation.
“We keep having this conversation, Ms. Holliday,” Chief Durr told her at one point, “but I’m not going to beat you up about it too much this time. I realize you were trying to clear your own name. It looks like you’ve been able to do that. I just wish you’d found another way. Still, it all worked out all right in the end, didn’t it? Ms. von Fleming is now on her way to the county facility in Machias. She
’ll see the judge in the morning.”
A little later, he said, “I think we have just about everything we need here,” and finally released them, one by one.
But after hanging around the police station all afternoon, and listening to everyone else tell their sides of the story, she began to realize there were still a few pieces missing, and a few unanswered questions.
That’s why, after leaving the station, she’d made her way back to Main Street, and parked outside Zeke’s General Store.
She had other places she knew she should be. Earlier in the afternoon her father and the boys had dropped in at the station, to check on Candy and the others, and make sure everyone was okay. Even though she’d assured Doc she was fine, he had lingered, until she’d finally shooed him on home. “I’m sure they’ll let us go shortly,” she’d told him.
After more coaxing, he’d reluctantly left. “I’ll be waiting for you,” he said, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “Take care of yourself.”
“I always do, Dad.”
That had been a couple of hours ago, and she knew her father was back at the farm, anxiously awaiting her return, with a thousand questions in his mind about all that had happened that day.
Candy herself was feeling drained. It had been a long day. She’d attended the funeral of a goat, dodged an onslaught of heavy books, caught a criminal, and endured endless questioning from the police. She was sure there’d be more questions and more trips to the station before this whole case was laid to rest. But for now, she needed to relax, to eat, to clear her mind, to drink a cup of tea and put up her feet and unwind after a challenging day.
But there was still some unfinished business she had to take care of, and it couldn’t wait.
So as the light leached from the sky, and another quiet evening settled over Cape Willington, Candy pulled up in front of the general store and shut off the engine. She sat silently for a few moments as the engine cooled and ticked, eyeing the store. She knew it would be closed by this time, but she hoped she still might find someone inside. The lights were still on. Perhaps someone was cleaning up.
Taking a deep breath, and feeling hesitant and uncertain about what might happen in the next few minutes, she climbed out of the Jeep, looked up and down the street, glanced at the general store again, and finally made her way across the sidewalk to the store’s front door.
She jiggled the handle and pushed on the door. Locked, as she’d expected. She gazed in through the door’s glass window, just as she had two nights ago, when she’d stood in this same spot, the rain pouring down on her. She thought she’d seen something moving inside the store that night, and now guessed that it had been Brian Jr., lurking in the shadows, apparently keeping an eye on her before following her out onto the street and spooking her.
She saw a similar movement inside the store tonight. Someone was back among the aisles, though she couldn’t tell who it was.
She rapped loudly on the door. “Hello? Anyone still here? It’s Candy Holliday.”
Shadows moved inside, but no one appeared.
She knocked again, called out again, and waited.
It took some time, but finally a slim figure, wearing an apron with broom in hand, stepped hesitantly out from one of the side aisles near the middle of the store and looked in her direction. The figure studied her, as if trying to decide what to do.
Candy knocked again, more urgently this time. “Trudy, is that you? I need to talk to you. Can you let me in?”
The figure inside shook her head. “We’re closed,” Candy heard her say faintly through the heavy door. “Come back tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow will be too late. Please unlock the door.”
Candy couldn’t tell whether she was recognized or not, because the figure moved away then, turning back into the store’s shadows, moving toward the counter. She disappeared from view, and for a minute or two, Candy thought she was gone for good.
But then she reappeared, without the broom or apron, and approached the front door with slow steps, hands held together nervously in front of her. “Candy, what’s going on?” Trudy asked through the door, her voice muted.
“We have to talk. Can I come in?”
Again, Trudy hesitated, but finally she relented and unlocked the door so Candy could slip inside. Then she relocked the door and turned toward the newcomer. “What are you doing here?” she asked.
“I’m sorry to interrupt you like this, when you’re trying to clean up, but I have a few questions I’d like to ask you, if you have a few minutes. I suppose you heard what happened this afternoon?”
Trudy nodded. In a soft, almost breathless tone, she said, “They’ve arrested Julia von Fleming.”
“They’re charging her with the murders of Ned and Maurice,” Candy confirmed. “I’ve been over at the police station all afternoon. We have Julia’s confession on video. The police have pieced together most of the events that happened this weekend, but there are a few loose ends—things I haven’t been able to figure out. I thought you might be able to help.”
“Me?” Trudy said weakly. “I’m not quite sure how, but I suppose I could try.”
Candy nodded. “That’s all I can ask, because a few things still don’t make sense. For instance, the last time you and I talked, you told me that Julia was at the canning demonstration in your store on Thursday night.”
Trudy nodded her head in confirmation. “Yes, that’s correct.”
“You also said she’d driven over here that afternoon, from New Hampshire. You specifically said she was tired from the trip. Do you remember that?”
“Yes, well, I suppose that’s what I said.”
“Because here’s the confusing part,” Candy went on. “On Friday, the Pruitt family received an extortion letter demanding two hundred thousand dollars, and threatening to harm more people with poisoned pickles if they didn’t pay up. The letter was mailed to the Pruitts from Cape Willington last Tuesday.”
“Uh-huh,” Trudy said, listening attentively.
“Well, there’s a problem,” Candy said. “Julia wasn’t here in town on Tuesday. She was still in New Hampshire. While I was at the police station, I checked her schedule on her website. She had an event at the library in Concord that evening, on Tuesday night, so she couldn’t have mailed that letter to the Pruitts. Someone else must have mailed it—from here in town.”
“Oh, I see,” Trudy said, nodding, her face expressionless.
“Then there’s the cook-off contest,” Candy continued. “If I remember correctly, you said you went there to get a closer look at Julia, because she resembled Gloria. You said you didn’t get a chance to talk to her, but you did talk to Marjorie Coffin. You told her there was a cardboard box on the hood of her car.”
Another faint nod. “Yes, that’s correct. I remember that.”
“There was a note on the box, saying there were several jars of pickled items inside. We’ve speculated—Marjorie and I—that the jar of poisoned pickles was in that box, and that’s how it got into the gym. But here’s the interesting part: Marjorie said the note on the box was handwritten, printed in block letters with a black felt-tip pen. She said the note was ‘neatly done.’ I saw Julia’s handwriting at the book signing yesterday. It’s legible but hardly what I’d call neat. However, I couldn’t help noticing when I was in your store yesterday that you have very distinctive handwriting. I assume that little placard next to the pickled zucchinis was hand-printed by you, right, in those neat block letters?”
Trudy’s voice was a little hoarse when she said, “Yes, it was.”
Candy accepted this confirmation and moved on. “Then there’s the issue of Sally Ann’s jar of pickles, which was switched out for one with the tainted pickles in it. There’s one question I’ve been asking myself over and over the past few hours, and so far I haven’t been able to come up with an answer. Whoever switched those jars—and we believe it was Julia—must have known Sally Ann was going to leave her jar of pickles out on the stoop for
Wanda to pick up. But how would someone know she was going to do that? There’s only one way—the person learned it from either Sally Ann or Wanda, of course, because it wasn’t public information. Now, Sally Ann’s not the chatty sort, so I doubt she told anyone she was leaving out that jar—other than Wanda, of course. On the other hand, Wanda tends to gab a lot. She was here Thursday night, in your store, during the canning demonstrations. You said so yourself—you said she was here the entire time, taking photos and conducting interviews. And Julia was here as well. Either Wanda and Julia talked to each other that night about that jar, which is certainly possible, or more likely there was a third party involved—someone who overheard Wanda mention it earlier in the evening, and then relayed the information to Julia when she was here.”
When Trudy didn’t respond to this, Candy came to her final points. “Another thing’s been bothering me, and it’s about the amount of money mentioned in the extortion letter sent to the Pruitts. Whoever sent that letter, from here in Cape Willington, demanded two hundred thousand dollars, or else. But why that exact amount? If you’re going to ask for that much money, why not round it up to a quarter-million dollars—two hundred fifty thousand? That would be logical. Two hundred thousand seems like a somewhat random number—unless it was meant for two people, a hundred grand apiece. That would make sense, wouldn’t it?”
She crossed her arms and waited for a response.
Trudy stared down at the floor and tossed her head a little. Finally, softly, she said, “Julia gave me the exact wording for that letter, you know. I typed it out on my computer, word for word, just like she said. Then I printed it out and sent it off. She even gave me the address to send it to. She said it had to be mailed from Cape Willington, and not New Hampshire.”
“But why?” Candy asked, her brow furrowing. “Why get mixed up with her?”
Town in a Sweet Pickle Page 27
