Candy took a moment to get her bearings, and put Maggie clearly in her sights.
But just then the string quartet plunged into the final notes of the Vivaldi piece and ended with gusto. As the music stopped, the couples around her pulled apart as applause rippled across the dance floor and around the room. The cellist announced that the group would be taking a short break, and a staff member rang a bell, announcing that dinner was imminent and would the guests kindly take their seats so they could get started with the evening’s program.
With that announcement, everyone in the room, suddenly animated, shifted en masse, and Candy was caught amid a swarm of moving bodies. She held her place, waiting for the crowd to dissipate, and when a clear line of sight finally opened up again to the far side of the dance floor, Maggie and Preston were gone.
Candy looked in both directions, searching for them. She thought she caught a glimpse of them headed out through the French doors, into the hallway beyond.
Curious, she followed. Preston’s behavior had become increasingly odd over the past day or two. It was time to find out what was behind it all.
Waiters with the first course arrived through a side door to her left, so she hurried through the French doors into the hallway beyond to avoid any more traffic jams. Only a few guests lingered here, glasses in hand, chatting away obliviously. A staff member was just coming through the hall, encouraging the guests to take their seats. Candy waved her down.
“Did you just see a middle-aged couple go through here?” She briefly described Maggie and Preston, and the staff member pointed toward the front lobby area.
“I believe I saw them headed that way.”
Candy started off again, moving at a quicker pace.
Why are they headed to the lobby? she wondered. Perhaps it was nothing. Perhaps Preston simply wanted to check on a reservation, or maybe they were looking for a quiet place to talk.
But maybe it was something else. Preston’s brief appearance at the ball had been too suspicious. Candy suspected he was up to something. But what was it? Where was he taking Maggie?
Her mind jumped too quickly to several conclusions, which she forced down as she approached the lobby.
She scanned the place in a matter of milliseconds but saw no sign of her friend. Shifting direction, she was just about to ask the two women behind the front desk if they’d seen any sign of Maggie and Preston when she glanced out the inn’s twin front glass doors and spotted Maggie outside under an awning, without her coat, arms wrapped tightly around herself as she stared into the darkness toward En-glish Point Lighthouse and the coastline.
Candy ran out to her. “Mags, are you all right?” She couldn’t keep the worry from her voice.
Maggie looked at her, slightly bewildered. “I’m not sure.”
Candy took her by the shoulder. “What happened? Where’s Preston?”
“He left.”
“Where did he go?”
“I don’t know, he… he said he wanted to show me something outside. Then he suggested we go back to his place. I told him I didn’t think that would be a very good idea. And then he got very… strange. It’s like something clicked inside him. He pulled me out here and gave me this really cold look.” She turned to Candy. “To be honest, he was a little scary.”
“Did he do anything to you?” Candy asked, worried for her friend.
But Maggie shook her head. “No, he… he told me to tell you something.”
Candy felt a little chill go through her, and it had nothing to do with the fact that they were standing outside without their coats in twenty-degree weather. “What is it?”
“He said just two words, and then he—”
But Ben walked out of the door behind them just then, with an expression of concern on his face. “Candy, there you are. Is everything okay? I saw you running out of the room and I—”
He stopped as a police car turned into the driveway in front of the inn, lights flashing, and slid to a stop just a few feet from them, its rear end fishtailing a little on the ice. The door popped open and Officer Jody McCroy leapt out. He came around the car in a rush as a second police car pulled up behind him, its roof lights flashing also.
Ben instinctively put his hands on the shoulders of both Candy and Maggie, gently pulling them out of the way. As a trio, the three of them took several steps back, giving the officers plenty of room.
“Jim, what’s going on?” Ben asked one of the officers as he rushed past. The officer glanced at him but continued on as a third police car, and then a fourth, pulled into the driveway.
Chief Darryl Durr stepped out of the passenger seat of the last car and watched as his men converged on the building.
He saw Candy, Ben, and Maggie, nodded casually, and started past them toward the inn’s front doors. But a question from Candy made him pause.
“Are you here to arrest Duncan Leggmeyer?” she asked.
Chief Durr turned and regarded the group for a moment before he said, “No. We’re here to arrest Liam Yates.”
THIRTY-SIX
The operation was performed efficiently and with minimal disruption. Most of the guests inside at the ball never knew what was happening; since the ballroom’s windows faced out the back of the building, the occupants didn’t see the flashing lights of the police cars out front. However, a few regular hotel guests were on hand to witness the procession as Liam Yates was escorted through the lobby about five minutes later, handcuffed, dazed by this latest development, head bowed in embarrassment, saying not a word.
Boy, he’s having a bad night, Candy thought as she stood near the front desk with Maggie and Ben, watching as two uniformed officers led Liam out through the front doors to one of the waiting police cars.
A few moments later, Duncan Leggmeyer emerged from a nearby room, also with a police escort, though without the handcuffs. On his face was an expression of despair mixed with anger.
Candy’s reporter instincts threatened to get the better of her, and she was tempted to start calling out questions to the officers as they passed by her. She knew Ben felt the same way, but they both held back their inquiries, at least for the moment.
Still, Ben couldn’t keep still for long. “I have to find out what’s going on,” he told her as they watched Chief Durr nod to the inn’s proprietor, Oliver LaForce, who stood with hands clasped in front of him beside the assistant innkeeper, Alby Alcott. They both appeared grim yet determined to get back to business as quickly as possible.
Candy turned to Ben. “It probably has something to do with the hatchet,” she told him, and he listened with lips pursed tightly as she explained how Solomon had found the body with a hatchet in its back and had passed the murder weapon on to her so she could deliver it to the police department.
“Why didn’t you tell me this before?” he asked, expressionless.
“There was so much going on. I never had a chance.”
He nodded and pulled her over to one side, out of earshot of the others gathered in the lobby. “Okay, tell me everything you know,” he said, and he cast his eyes downward in concentration as Candy explained what she had discovered that day, with Maggie eavesdropping on their conversation.
“I have to call Finn,” Ben said when she’d finished, “and see if he’s heard anything. Then I should head over to the police station.” He took her hand. “I’m sorry our big night out has been ruined,” he said sincerely.
She gave him an understanding look. “It was brief but wonderful. Go do what you have to do.”
“I don’t mean to leave you stranded. Can you find a ride home?”
“Maggie will take me.” She gave him a quick hug. “Don’t worry about us. We’ll be fine.”
“Okay. I’ll call you as soon as I know something,” he said, and kissed her before he ran off to grab his coat.
After he’d gone, Candy took a deep breath. “Well,” she said to Maggie, “at least we got in one good dance before things got crazy.”
Maggie s
ighed along with her. “You’re lucky. I barely had that. And now it appears my date has run out on me—though I’m not sure exactly what I did. And to think I got all dressed up for this.”
Candy turned toward her friend, eyes suddenly blazing. “Speaking of dresses…”
If Candy expected any sort of sympathy from her friend—or, heaven forbid, an apology—she was left sorely wanting, for Maggie defended herself vigorously. “Well, no, I didn’t tell you about that part of it because I knew you’d have a cow,” she said lightly, “but there’s no harm done. She doesn’t know the dress is hers—that’s old Mrs. Stevenson, by the way. One of the summer people. They just came up from Connecticut for the weekend. Really nice folks. He made his money in Laundromats. Can you believe that? He’s a millionaire because people plunk quarters into machines to wash their clothes. He’s made his millions a quarter at a time! Anyway, they dropped off the dress the last time they were here, between Christmas and New Year’s. It’s been hanging back there on the unclaimed rack for weeks. And as far as they’re concerned, it’s still hanging there. They’ll probably leave town tomorrow, and it’ll hang there for another few weeks until they get back to town and finally pick it up.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Candy said. “It’s not mine. I have to get out of it at once.”
“But it looks sooo good on you,” Maggie protested.
That, Candy had to admit, was true. She’d received a number of compliments tonight while wearing it. “I do hate to part with it. Do you think she’d sell it to me?”
“I have a better idea,” Maggie said slyly.
“What is it?” Candy asked, and abruptly paused as she reconsidered her question. “No, wait. Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.”
“It’s nothing illegal,” Maggie assured her. “I promise.”
But Candy would not be swayed. “It doesn’t matter. Just take the dress back, put it back on the rack—after sending it back out for cleaning, of course—and let’s be done with it.”
Maggie made a huge deal of sighing in a very dramatic manner. “Fine. Be that way.”
“Good,” Candy said, trying to convince herself that this indeed was the right course of action.
“Good,” Maggie said, affirming that it was—the decision had been made, and that was that, and they were moving on.
Resigned to the fact that she had to give the dress back, Candy changed to another less sartorial subject. “Anyway, back to Preston. Outside, when Ben interrupted us, you were about to tell me something Preston had said—about a message for me?”
“What? Oh, yeah, right. That guy.” She rolled her eyes. “How do I keep getting mixed up with guys like that?”
“It’s your charm.”
“True. And my good looks. I tend to attract the more dangerous types.”
“So what did he say?”
“Well, like I told you, it was just two words.” She lowered her voice to a hush. “He said I was supposed to tell you white field.”
Candy drew her head back, uncomprehending. “What the heck does that mean? What does a white field have to do with anything?”
“I thought it was strange too, but that’s what he said.”
Candy pondered the two words for a few moments as the strains of a Mozart concerto drifted down the hall. The string quartet had started up again. Her stomach growled.
She turned to Maggie. “Are you hungry?”
“Famished.”
“Think we should get something to eat first?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
“After all,” Candy said as they started down the hall toward the ballroom, “we did pay for these tickets—or at least our dates did. We might as well get what we can from them while we figure out what to do next.”
THIRTY-SEVEN
“Okay,” Candy said, “here’s what we need to do.”
She was working her way through a petite slice of blueberry cheesecake with a miniscule, token dollop of homemade whipped cream on top and a crust that was deliciously crumbly. She’d tried to deny herself dessert altogether, but she’d lost that battle, so she opted for moderation instead.
“First, we need to find out about that hatchet. We know from that online posting that Duncan was the winner of a hatchet-throwing contest about a year ago. The posting also said Duncan’s winning caused some sort of friction between him and Liam—and clearly time has not healed the wound, as we saw tonight. But did Duncan really stick that thing in Victor’s back? He apparently had the skill to do so, from a distance if necessary. His name is on the murder weapon. So why didn’t the police arrest him or at least handcuff him?”
“Maybe he didn’t do it,” Maggie suggested.
“Yes, but if he didn’t, who did?” She expertly pierced the cheesecake and arrowed off a thin slice, which she nibbled on as she talked. “Next, what’s up with Preston? We have to get to the bottom of that. I mean, is he legitimate? Ben’s barely heard of him. Same thing with the police—he’s not even remotely on their radar. He seems to have slipped into town largely unnoticed, talked to only a few people—including you and me, I should point out—and avoided detection by most others. That’s pretty mysterious, if you ask me. Even Officer Jody didn’t pay much attention to him—he was too focused on me. Big mistake. So, what’s going on with Preston? We need to check him out.”
She paused. “If we ever see him again, that is. It’s possible he could just disappear on us. But I have a feeling that, one way or the other, we’ll hear from him again.”
She thoughtfully nibbled at her cheesecake. “And third, we need to do more research on Liam. There was obviously animosity between him and the other sculptors, including Victor. And obviously the police think he had something to do with Victor’s murder. But what’s the link?” She paused, pondering her own question, and finally sighed. “There are so many pieces on the table—I just can’t figure out how they all fit together.”
Maggie was silent for a long, stretched-out moment as she lingered over her chocolate sorbet. Her eyebrows were furrowed, and she appeared to be deep in thought.
“White field,” she said finally.
Candy had begun jotting down notes on a napkin, using a pen she’d borrowed from a gentleman at the table across from her. When Maggie spoke, she looked up. “Did you just say something?”
“I think I might know what Preston meant.”
“About what?
“About that message he had: white field.”
Candy put down the pen and leaned forward, giving her friend her full attention. “And what does it mean?”
Maggie didn’t answer the question immediately. Instead, impressed with herself, she said, “I can’t believe it, really. I think I actually figured something out by myself.”
“And how did you do that?” Candy asked, both amused and intrigued.
Triumphantly, Maggie allowed herself a generous spoonful of sorbet, which she popped into her mouth and savored. “By paying attention,” she said around the frozen dessert.
“And what did you pay attention to?”
In response, Maggie pointed at the blueberry cheesecake. “You done with that?”
At the sudden change in subject, Candy gave her friend a curious look, but she finally nodded. “It was about the most delicious thing I’ve ever eaten, but I’m not as active in the winter as I am in the summer, so I have to watch my figure.”
Maggie sighed, set down her spoon, and pushed away the rest of her dessert. “Unfortunately I’m done as well. So, do you think they have a computer around here somewhere?”
“A computer? What for?”
“I could tell you, but it’d be easier to show you. So, where can we find one?”
Candy arched an eyebrow at her friend. “You’re acting very mysterious all of a sudden,” she said, “but I’ll play along. I think there’s a small business center off the lobby. Maybe we can find one in there.”
“Good idea. Let’s have a look.”
&nb
sp; Leaving their desserts behind, and after returning the pen to its owner, they made their way out of the ballroom and into the hallway leading back to the main building and the lobby.
“Are you going to fill me in on what’s going on?” Candy asked as they walked.
“It suddenly dawned on me,” Maggie said cryptically, “that I’ve seen the words white field before.”
“And where was that?” Candy asked.
“You’ll see,” Maggie said with a toss of her head.
They found the business center in a small room sandwiched between the lobby’s main desk and the elevators, near the concierge’s station. The lights were on, but the place was vacant. A couple of nineteen-inch computer monitors sat on a side table, next to a printer and fax machine. “Here we go,” Maggie said. She pulled out a chair and sat down.
“You know,” she said, as she tapped at the keyboard’s space bar and waited for the machine to pull itself out of hibernation, “that Preston’s a cagey guy. This afternoon at the cleaner’s, when we were talking, he told me that he’s been keeping tabs on Cape Willington for a long time.”
Candy lowered herself into a nearby chair. “Yeah, he said the same thing to me a few days ago.”
With the computer awoken, Maggie launched a browser and keyed in the URL for Wanda Boyle’s website. As she worked, it finally dawned on Candy what she was doing. And when she clicked on the comment section for one of Wanda’s latest posts, Candy had nothing but respect for her best friend.
“You’re a genius,” she said.
Maggie allowed herself the merest of smiles. “Yeah, I get that a lot.”
There, on the screen in front of them, was a recent comment, written in response to one of Wanda’s blog posts. The comment had been written by someone named Whitefield.
Candy remembered now. She’d seen the same thing just a couple of days ago, on Thursday night, when she’d gone up to the Cape Crier’s second-floor lair, intending to sneak a look at Ben’s office.
Town in a Wild Moose Chase Page 23
