Now Trudy looked up, her watery eyes focusing on Candy. “Because we had no choice—because we needed the money. And because Maurice Soufflé was the cause of it all. You know my husband Richard hasn’t been feeling well. I told you he had leg problems. But it’s much worse than that. We haven’t told many people about the extent of his health issues, but they go back to a stroke he had about five years ago—when Maurice was in town. Richard and Maurice—well, they didn’t get along. They had a fight about something and Maurice got vindictive. He started spreading bad rumors about Richard and me and about our store. We started losing traffic. Our reputations were at stake. That’s when Richard got so upset he had the stroke, and he’s never fully recovered. He’s tried to help out here in the store ever since, whenever he can, but I’ve run the place more or less by myself for the past few years, and it’s honestly more than I can handle. Our profits have fallen off. We have trouble keeping up with the bills. We’ve even thought we might have to close or sell the place. . . .”
“But then Julia offered you a way out,” Candy said, finally understanding.
“We’ve kept in touch all this time,” Trudy admitted, “despite what I’ve led you to believe. I apologize for misleading you, but I had no choice. Julia and I bonded over tulips, but we also share a common hatred of Maurice Soufflé. When she found out she’d be coming here to judge the cook-off contest, she contacted me. She said she had come up with a way to get back at Maurice, and wanted to know if I’d help. Hopefully, she said, we could both make some money, and after thinking about it, I agreed. She assured me no one would get hurt—that the poison in the jars wouldn’t kill anyone, that it would only cause queasiness or maybe vomiting. But, well, I guess she misled me. I think she said she used something like oleander leaves in the jars, and, well, maybe she used too many of them. When Ned died . . . well, I can’t tell you how devastated I was. But by that time there wasn’t much I could do about it. I had to keep quiet about what I knew.”
Candy listened to all this, and when Trudy finished, she said, “I know this is hard for you, but I have one last question. How did the jar of poisoned pickles get from the box to the table at the cook-off contest on Friday? I presume you didn’t put it there, or Julia, since your fingerprints would have been on it, which I’m sure you wanted to avoid.”
“That’s true,” said Trudy. “We were very cautious, though I guess we weren’t cautious enough. But to answer your question, Ned put it there, on the table.”
“How did he know it was in the box?” Candy asked.
“Well, I suppose it’s because I told him it would be there.”
“So you were the one spreading rumors about the jar on Friday?”
“Julia said we had to create a buzz about it. We had to get people looking for it, if we wanted the plan to work. I left the gym just as Marjorie was bringing in the box. She put it under the table with the pickled items, just as we expected, and shortly after Julia spotted Ned digging around in it. She saw him open the jar, take out a few pickles, and then put the jar on the table.”
“So she must have been fairly certain he’d eat one or two of them, and she was just waiting for that to happen while she pretended to almost eat one herself,” Candy concluded.
It all made sense now. There was silence for a few moments as the two women looked at each other, until Trudy said, “So I suppose I have to tell all this to the police now, don’t I?”
Candy nodded. “Yes, unfortunately you do. But you don’t have to do it alone. I’ll go with you.”
Trudy looked visibly worried. “But what will happen to us? What will happen to the store? Who will take care of it?”
Candy thought a moment. “Does Brian Jr. know about any of this? Was he involved in this scheme with you and Julia?”
Trudy shook her head, horrified. “Oh no, nothing like that. No one else knows about any of this. I haven’t told a soul, especially Richard or Brian Jr. I didn’t want either of them to get into trouble because of something I’d done.”
“Then Brian Jr. can take care of the store for you,” Candy said, “and others will pitch in. I’m sure Richard will help as best he can. And I’ll help out behind the counter if I’m needed. You’re going to have a lot on your mind over the next few weeks, so you shouldn’t have to worry about the store. One way or another, we’ll keep the place running for you, no matter what happens.”
Trudy nodded gratefully. “You’ve always been a good friend, Candy,” she said, and steeled herself. Finally she nodded firmly, as if accepting her fate. “So,” she said in a long, winded breath, “I guess I’ll go ahead and lock up the place, and we can head over to the police station. We might as well get this over with.”
EPILOGUE
On Tuesday afternoon, Candy took off work early. She was fairly certain she wouldn’t be missed in the office, and doubted anyone would even notice her absence. The place was humming along nicely. After her brush with mortality, Wanda was back in the office with a renewed sense of purpose, taking on additional management responsibilities and freeing up some time for Candy to focus on writing and editing. The day before, Herr Georg and Colin had dropped off their judges’ notes from the cook-off contest, and the notes were complete enough so they’d be able to put together a decent article for the bicentennial issue. They’d decided to exclude Julia von Fleming’s comments and choices, given the events of the weekend. Of course, the cook-off contest would always be marred by Ned’s death and everything that came after, but Candy and Wanda both felt an obligation to the community and its people to finish what they’d started. “Ned would have wanted it that way,” Wanda assured her.
As she drove out to Sally Ann’s place, Candy rolled down the driver’s side window, letting in cool, fresh air. She was always amazed by how quickly the temperature changed during the month of September. It was as if someone had turned down a big thermostat in the sky by ten or twelve degrees, ushering in the autumn weather. It happened like clockwork every year, the inexorable shift from summer to fall in a matter of a few weeks, just like the changing of the leaves and the imminent arrival of winter.
She’d had a chat with Wanda that morning, and told her she’d been thinking of leaving the paper on a day-to-day basis. “I’d like to stay involved in some way,” Candy had said, “but I don’t want to come into the office every day. I have too many other things I’d like to do.”
Wanda hadn’t been totally surprised. “I knew something’s been going on in that head of yours,” she said. “I could tell you’ve been looking at greener pastures.”
“I’m not sure what will happen with my position, should I decide to leave,” Candy went on. “They might bring in a new editor, or they might promote from within. I’m going to recommend the latter.”
Wanda’s eyebrows had risen then in genuine surprise. “Any idea of potential candidates?”
“I’m looking at one this very moment.”
Now, on her way along Gleason Street toward Sally Ann’s place, Candy wasn’t sure it was the most sensible decision to leave the paper right now—or ever, for that matter. It was a good job in a time when good jobs were hard to come by. But she felt it was the right one. She’d had a good run at the paper—she’d been there for five years now, starting out as the community columnist before working her way up to editor. She felt comfortable with her decision, which in her mind was almost final. It was time to get back to the farm. That’s where her heart was. She’d neglected it for too long.
Still, she’d given herself plenty of time to think about it. “I’m not going to make any definite decisions for at least a month or so, until we see how everything settles,” she’d told Wanda. “But I wanted to let you know, so you have a head start if the editor’s position does open up sometime in the near future.”
She pushed these thoughts away for now as she pulled into Sally Ann’s driveway. It was already occupied by an old red Saab station wagon, which had seen its share of winter wear. Candy heard a dog barking then, somewhere off beh
ind the house, and a series of bleats.
“Random,” Candy said to herself as she pulled to a stop and shut off the engine. “And the newest members of our community.”
She brought her tote bag with her, so she could take a few photos and make a few notes, and headed back behind the house, where all the action was taking place.
It looked like a small petting zoo. And Sally Ann was in the middle of it all, beaming like a new mother.
With her was Neil Crawford, owner of Crawford’s Berry Farm, located just outside Cape Willington out past Blueberry Acres. Neil was bearded and long-haired, a bit of a modern-day hippie, with an earthy demeanor and a gentle spirit. She’d met him a year earlier, when she’d helped him solve the mystery of his father’s death. Neil had since inherited his father’s berry farm, and for the past year he’d been splitting his time between here and his own farm in Vermont. But a few months ago he’d put the place in Vermont up for sale, realizing it was time to choose one or the other. He’d decided on Cape Willington. He was just returning from closing the sale on his farm in Vermont and taking care of last-minute details, including the dispersal of some of his farm animals.
At the moment, the objects of everyone’s attention, especially Sally Ann’s, were two sheep, which Neil had brought over with him from Vermont, apparently in the back of the Saab wagon. He’d had a much larger flock at his old place, but had sold most of the animals to a neighbor. However, he’d held on to two of the ewes, and brought them along with him. No doubt Random, his big shaggy dog, had occupied the front passenger seat on the way over. The dog was now keeping a watchful eye over the first meeting of Sally Ann, Guinevere, and the two new sheep.
“Do they have names?” Sally Ann asked.
Neil nodded. “This one’s Bess, and this is Clara. They’re yours if you want to keep them. I thought—well, Candy and I thought—that Guinevere could use a few companions . . . provided they get along, of course.”
“Oh, I think they’ll get along just fine!” Sally Ann said, beaming. She was happier than Candy had ever seen her. “I’ll make sure they do. And thank you!” She seemed genuinely touched.
“You’re going to need a grazing pen for the sheep, something bigger than you have now, but I can help you with that,” Neil said, looking around her place.
“And others in town might pitch in too,” Candy added. “I’ve been putting out the word. Before you know it, you’ll have a whole army of people over here helping you build a new home for your flock.”
“We know they can’t take the place of Cleopatra,” Neil told Sally Ann, “but consider this a new beginning for all of us. Plus, you can shear them in the spring and make a little extra money on the wool.”
As Sally Ann fussed over her newest family members, Candy and Neil turned together to talk. “Everything go okay with the closing?” she asked.
“As smooth as possible. Looks like I’m a Mainer now.”
“And a villager, that’s true,” Candy said, and she held out her hand. “Well, welcome to Cape Willington, Mr. Crawford.”
He smiled, and they shook. “It seems like a nice community,” he said. “I think I’m going to like it here. Of course, there’s a lot of work to do out at the farm.”
“Yours and mine both. Doc and I want to put up a hoophouse behind the barn, and expand the back blueberry field, and maybe even set up a farm stand for a retail operation during picking and harvest season.”
“Hmm, well,” Neil said, nodding his approval, “those are ambitious plans. Maybe we can help each other out—work together.”
Candy smiled broadly. “I’d like that.”
“Me too,” Neil said with a charming grin.
And as she turned back to Sally Ann and the animals, full of ideas for the future, Candy knew she’d made the right decision.
RECIPES
Helen Ilgenfritz Boltz’s Pickled Red Beet Eggs This recipe is from my great grandmother Helen.
Put in a large jar or crock:
1 can sliced red beets with juice, or 1 red beet cooked, plus the cooking liquid.
4-6 hard-boiled eggs, shelled, left whole (depending on jar size).
Mix 1 part white vinegar to 2 parts water and add a little sugar until mixture is to your taste. Not too sour, not too sweet.
The liquid mixture must be enough to cover the eggs and beets. Amount depending on the size of the jar.
Cover the jar and let sit in the refrigerator at least one day until the eggs are red and pickled. This does not need any boiling water bath. The jar of pickled red beet eggs will keep for one week (or not, if you eat them quickly!).
Doc’s Favorite Harvest Cookies
1 cup butter
¾ cup sugar
¾ cup light brown sugar 2 eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla
2 tablespoons milk
1 ½ cups flour
1 teaspoon baking soda 1 teaspoon cinnamon
3 cups uncooked quick oatmeal
1 cup white chocolate chips
¾ cup dried wild blueberries ¾ cup dried cranberries Dried apricot can also be used as a substitute, or in addition to the other fruits.
Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.
In a large mixing bowl, mix the butter and sugar together until it is creamy.
Add the eggs, vanilla, and milk. Mix until it is smooth.
Add the flour, baking soda, and cinnamon and mix well.
Add the oatmeal and mix well.
Add the white chips, dried wild blueberries, and dried cranberries. Mix.
Drop by full teaspoon or by tablespoon amounts of dough onto ungreased cookie sheets.
Bake in the 350-degree oven for about 10 minutes or until cookies are a golden brown.
This recipe makes about four dozen cookies. Eat them before Doc finds out you have them!
Frozen Cucumber Salad Recipe courtesy of Aunt Mary-Helen Thorne, St. Albans, Maine.
2 quarts sliced, unpeeled, small cucumbers 2 medium onions, sliced 1 tablespoon salt
1 cup vinegar
1 ¼ cups sugar Combine cucumbers, onions, and salt. Let mixture soak for 3 hours.
In a saucepan, warm vinegar and sugar, stirring to dissolve sugar.
Drain cucumbers and add to vinegar-sugar mixture.
Ladle into freezer containers and freeze.
When ready to use, take out of freezer and let thaw.
Serve chilled.
Yield: 1 ½ quarts
Duffy’s Diner Cranberry Applesauce
6 cups unsweetened apple cider or apple juice 20 apples (about) or 5 lbs. These should be cored and quartered One pinch of salt
One 12 oz. bag of fresh cranberries, rinsed
1 cup of sugar
Pint-sized canning jars
Boiling water bath canning pot
In a large pot on medium high heat, bring the cider or juice to a boil, turn it down to a simmer, and reduce by half, so half the liquid is left. This can take 20 minutes to half an hour.
Add the apple quarters, cranberries, and the salt and sugar.
Bring back to a boil, then turn heat down to a simmer.
Stir occasionally for about 1 hour, or until you have a thick puree.
Duffy puts in only one cup of sugar. If you like it very sweet, add more to your taste.
Set a sieve over a large bowl or pot. Ladle the cranberry applesauce into the sieve. Push sauce through the sieve with the back of a spoon into the bowl or pot. This gets rid of any chunks or skin and leaves a smooth puree.
Ladle the cranberry applesauce into thoroughly clean pint-sized canning jars. Leave ½ inch of headroom. Put sterilized lids on the jars.
Process the jars of cranberry applesauce in a boiling water bath canner for 10 minutes.
Let the jars cool completely; check to make sure all the lids have sealed properly.
Store in a cool, dry place.
This recipe yields about 5 pints of cranberry applesauce.
PICKLING TIPS
THE BASICS OF CAN
NING AND PICKLING
by Candy Holliday
Interim Managing Editor, the Cape Crier
puttingfoodbycapewillington.com
The process of canning and pickling food for preservation, or “putting food by,” goes back ten thousand years. Today, it is not as necessary to can, but preserving fresh food and seeing all the jars filled with pickles, jams, and fruits on your pantry shelf is very satisfying.
First in the process is to make sure you do the canning safely. There are two basic methods for canning. One is the boiling water bath method, and the other is to use a pressure canner. The boiling water bath process is when the jars are immersed in boiling water in a boiling water canner for a certain period of time, depending on altitude. This seals the jars and preserves the food in them. The pressure canner heats the jars to a temperature above the boiling point, sealing and preserving the food that way.
The boiling water bath is for foods that are high in acidity, including fruits, pickled products, and tomatoes. Tomatoes today are not as acidic as they used to be, so lemon juice needs to be added to be able to use the boiling water method. The pressure canner is for all other foods, meats, and foods that are not going to be pickled.
My favorite method, and favorite foods, are pickled using the boiling water bath method. For this method of canning, you’ll need the following basic equipment:
CANNING JARS. Jars commonly come in half-pint, pint, and quart sizes. You can reuse the jars as long as they are clean and free of cracks or chips in the glass.
CANNING LIDS. These two-part lids include the band and the lid itself. The lids are for one-time use only. Food safety cannot be guaranteed if they are used more than once.
A BOILING WATER CANNER, or large pot deep enough to cover the jars with one to two inches of water. The canner includes a rack to put the jars in to keep them raised off the bottom of the pot.
Town in a Sweet Pickle Page 28
