Town In a Lobster Stew

by B. B. Haywood

  Candy jumped out of the Jeep, leaving the door open behind her. “What happened?” she asked as she and Maggie walked toward each other.

  Maggie’s face was hard with concern. “She pulled a fast one on me. The old goat stole my keys right off the counter and took the car. She was all bundled up. She told me she was going for a walk.”

  “Why would she do that?”

  “I guess she needed to be somewhere.”

  Candy looked around, up and down the street, as if hoping Wilma Mae would suddenly drive up. “Do you have any idea where she went?”

  Maggie nodded. “I’ve got a couple of ideas. You?”

  “Same.” She pointed toward the Jeep. “Hop in. We’ll find her.”

  As Maggie climbed into the passenger seat and closed the door, Candy gave her a sideways look. “Where’ve you been? You look like you got caught in a hurricane.”

  “I’ve been frantic, out looking for Wilma Mae. It’s getting windy out there.”

  “And chilly too.”

  As she backed out of the driveway and headed toward town, Candy checked the sky. Here in this part of Maine, at this time of year, so far east in the time zone, the sun rose early, at around five A.M., and set relatively early in the evening, at around eight fifteen P.M. They still had a few hours of light left until dusk, but a bank of thickening clouds coming in from the southeast was beginning to filter the sun’s warmth and light, cooling the air and stealing the brightness from the late afternoon. Candy had put on a long-sleeved shirt when she’d left the house to meet Cinnamon Girl, but her jacket was still on a hook by the back kitchen door. She shivered as she reached for the Jeep’s heater, turning the fan on low to warm them.

  “How has she been?” Candy asked as she drove.

  “Eerily peaceful. It’s as if she’s completely forgotten about Mr. Sedley’s murder. She’s been chatting all day about all sorts of inconsequential stuff but never mentions him. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she’s completely forgotten about him.”

  “She’s probably just having a hard time dealing with it.”

  Maggie tried to arrange her hair, brushing it back and forth with her hand in an effort to tame it. “That’s my guess. I was getting worried about her. So when she said she was going for a walk, I thought it sounded like a good idea.”

  “Guess it wasn’t all fun and games for you two, huh?”

  Maggie sighed wistfully. “No. And I was so looking forward to our pillow fight tonight.”

  They drove through the light at the Coastal Loop and soon turned right onto Rose Hip Lane. At the second house from the end on the right, she turned into the empty driveway at Wilma Mae’s house. Police tape still crisscrossed the front door, and the place looked dark inside.

  They both climbed out as soon as Candy shut off the engine, and they walked into the front yard. They stood looking up at the house, studying the windows.

  “You see anyone?” Candy asked after a few moments.

  “No. My car’s not here either. Should we check inside?”

  Candy shook her head. “I doubt she would’ve gone in. It’d be too traumatic for her. I’ll check the garage to see if your car’s there, but my guess is she’s not here.”

  “Where then?”

  “I don’t know. Let’s cruise down Ocean Avenue and then head out on the Loop and see if we spot her.”

  Twenty minutes later, they still hadn’t found Wilma Mae, and Candy was beginning to worry. Then Maggie had a thought. “You know, tomorrow’s Memorial Day.”

  Candy gave her a look. “Yeah? And?”

  “Do you suppose Mr. Wendell was in the military?”

  Candy gave her a smile. “Good idea, Watson. Let’s check it out. By the way, have I told you about Cinnamon Girl?”

  Maggie twisted in her seat. “No. But do tell. I love a good story.”

  “Then this one will blow your socks off.” As they drove out the Loop, Candy proceeded to tell her best friend about the meeting at the Pruitt Opera House with Wanda, and about her conversation with Ben.

  She’d just about finished, and Maggie was listening rapturously, as they drove through the gate at Stone Hill Cemetery.

  Suddenly they both grew quiet. Neither of them had been here since the previous summer, when they’d laid Susan Jane Vincent to rest. The memories of that day, and the harrowing week before it, came back to them both. But Maggie broke the spell fairly quickly as she pointed into the dimming light and said, “There’s my car.”

  It was parked along one of the dirt roads that wound through the hilly cemetery, which occupied a windswept bluff overlooking the English River. Candy angled toward the car, creeping slowly ahead as they scanned the landscape for any sign of Wilma Mae.

  They both spotted her at about the same time, standing at a grave site off to the left, in the shadows of a tall pine tree. “There she is,” Candy said.

  She pulled the Jeep to a stop behind Maggie’s car, and they both climbed out. The wind was fiercer out here, on open land along the river, tossing their hair and pulling at their clothes. Candy wrapped her arms tightly around herself while Maggie lowered her head, and together they trudged up the slope toward Wilma Mae.

  She must have heard them as they approached, for she turned her head slightly their direction. She held a small bouquet of flowers in her hands and stood silently as they walked up to her.

  “Wilma Mae, here you are. We were worried about you,” Maggie said.

  “We’ve been looking all over town,” Candy added. “We were afraid you’d gotten yourself lost.”

  “Oh no, dear, I’m not lost,” said Wilma Mae softly. “I’ve been here the whole time. It’s Sunday afternoon. I always come out to visit my Milton on Sunday afternoons. It’s a tradition with us. He was expecting me.”

  “Well, that’s fine,” Candy said. “We just wish you would have told us where you were going.”

  “Oh, I know I should have,” said Wilma Mae with a soft clucking of her tongue, “and I am sorry for stealing your car, Maggie. I hope you’re not too mad at me. But I just wanted a few minutes alone with him.”

  Maggie patted the elderly woman on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, Wilma Mae, I’m not mad. I understand completely.”

  “It’s just,” Wilma Mae continued, her chest welling, “well, things are changing, aren’t they? You see, even though Milton left me all those years ago, I’ve always had Mr. Sedley to keep me company. That made it easier for me, you know? Having someone like him around to talk to was, well, it was wonderful. Just wonderful. And I don’t know if I ever told him that—how special he was to me. And now that he’s gone too . . .” her voice trailed off. “Well, I feel so alone now.”

  She leaned forward and placed the flowers on her husband’s grave. “Now I guess I’ll have two graves to visit on Sunday afternoons, won’t I?”

  Candy and Maggie stood at her side as the wind calmed and Wilma Mae cried.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  Wilma Mae was in better spirits the following morning when Candy stopped by Maggie’s house around ten o’clock. They had agreed to go together to the Memorial Day Parade, which started at one.

  Cape Willington’s Memorial Day Parade was a town tradition dating back to the early 1940s, and had long been both a celebration of the beginning of the summer season as well as a solemn and patriotic event commemorating those who had served their country.

  From nine until one, the police blocked off Ocean Avenue for a townwide flea market, sponsored by the local American Legion post. Over the past few years, Finn had become involved in organizing the event, and he relied on Doc and the boys, as well as Marti and the ladies of the Women’s Auxiliary, to help him with the details.

  Candy had planned to make only a few brief appearances at the day’s events. She hoped to grab some quick quotes and jot down a few notes for her column, but her plan was to spend most of the afternoon at the farm, working on the gardens with Doc and writing her articles, which were due the following day. But
he’d taken off early in the morning to help Finn with the flea market, telling Candy he’d catch up with her later in the day. Shortly after, Maggie had called to coax Candy into attending the parade with her and Wilma Mae.

  “Come on, it’ll be fun,” Maggie told her over the phone. “Just us three girls, out for the afternoon. Who knows, maybe we can pick up a few cute sailors.”

  Candy laughed. “Well, that does sound tempting. But in case you hadn’t noticed, most of the sailors around here are marching in the parade today and they’re pushing eighty.”

  “Hey, those senior citizens can boogie. Have you seen them at the VFW hall on Saturday night? And they’ll be out in droves today. It’ll be easy pickin’s for us girls. Besides, we need to cheer up Wilma Mae. Come on, it’ll be fun.”

  Candy finally relented, and so just after ten in the morning, the three of them climbed into Candy’s Jeep and headed toward town.

  Wilma Mae had dressed for the occasion. She wore a navy blue knee-length dress with a red, white, and blue scarf tied around her neck for an accent. A large American flag broach and sensible walking shoes completed her ensemble.

  Maggie had opted for gray slacks, a sage green cotton sweater over a cream-colored blouse, and stylish loafers, while Candy wore her best blue jeans and a butter-colored fleece pullover. The weather had cooled off, with the warmer temperatures of the past few days retreating southward, allowing chillier Canadian air to filter in. Still, the weatherman had promised a shift in the wind later in the day and a gradual warming into the high sixties by late afternoon. A gentle breeze out of the northwest brought with it a bit of a late spring nip. Still, few Mainers who were out and about today would notice, since they were well accustomed to climate vagaries at this time of year and knew true summer would probably not arrive in its fullness until mid-June or later—if it arrived at all.

  Traffic was heavy as they turned onto the Loop. As they approached the center of town a policeman directed their vehicle toward a parking area located between the opera house and Town Park. They snatched one of the last spots, grabbed their purses, locked up the Jeep, and headed toward Ocean Avenue.

  They made a quick tour of the booths and grabbed some hot dogs at a cart set up just outside Town Park. As they settled onto a park bench to eat, Candy watched Wilma Mae and noticed a definite improvement in her demeanor. She was almost chipper today, quipping away with Maggie about knickknacks they’d seen at the flea market and a small silver broach she’d bought at one of the tables. The elderly woman even smiled once or twice. Candy admired her ability to recover so quickly from the gruesome death of her longtime friend and onetime lover.

  Abruptly, Wilma Mae turned. “Oh look, here comes that nice baker man,” she said, straightening her back and folding her hands neatly in her lap as Herr Georg walked up to them.

  “Ahh, ladies, hello, hello! How are all of you on this fine New England day?”

  They spent the next ten minutes chatting with Herr Georg, who regaled them with stories of his latest creations, including a wedding cake he was baking for a wealthy family up from Rhode Island. “Eight tiers!” Herr Georg explained. “It will tower over the wedding party at the reception. It just may be my greatest creation yet!”

  After Herr Georg bid them an adieu and walked on, Wilma Mae leaned in close to Candy. “He’s very handsome, isn’t he?”

  “Who, Herr Georg? Well, yes, I suppose so.”

  “His moustache is particularly elegant,” Wilma Mae said. “Do you know if he’s married?”

  “What?” Candy was surprised by Wilma Mae’s questions. “Well, no, I don’t think so. I mean, no, he isn’t.”

  Wilma Mae clucked her tongue. “A nice man like that, living alone. Such a shame.”

  They were just starting back up Ocean Avenue toward Main Street when Candy’s cell phone rang. She pulled it out of her purse and checked the readout, then flipped the phone open and held it up to her ear. “Hi, Dad. What’s up?”

  “Candy,” he said, an urgency in his voice. “Where are you?”

  She told him.

  “I’m over at the diner with the boys,” he said. “You’d better get up here right away. Something big is happening. You need to hear this.”

  Suddenly she felt very worried. “What’s going on, Dad?”

  “I don’t know if I should say anything over the phone.” His voice had fallen to a whisper.

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake. No one’s listening on our line. Just say it.”

  “Well . . .” He seemed to think it over, then said secretively, “Finn just got word. There’s been a huge discovery, and the police are trying to keep it all hushed up for the moment, but it’s about to break all over town.”

  “Dad.” Candy had stopped along the sidewalk, and Maggie and Wilma Mae were staring at her with questioning looks on their face. “Just tell me what’s going on.”

  “It’s Charlotte Depew,” Doc said finally. “She’s been murdered.”

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  Juanita Perez set a steaming cup of hot coffee and a thick slice of fresh-baked apple pie down in front of Candy. “This one’s on the house,” she said quietly, leaning in toward her. “Just let me know if you need anything else.”

  She winked, patted Candy on the shoulder, and turned away, practically floating on air as she set off to tend to her other customers.

  “Hey, where’d that come from? How’d you rate that?” Doc asked hungrily, nudging her in the side. He was sitting beside her in the corner booth at Duffy’s Main Street Diner. Wilma Mae and Maggie had squeezed into the booth on the opposite side, next to Artie and Bumpy. Finn was off in a corner by the counter, talking quietly to someone on his cell phone.

  Mystified, Candy shook her head, staring down at the cup of coffee and the slice of pie on the table before her. “I really don’t know, Dad. I haven’t ordered anything yet.”

  “It’s simple,” Bumpy told her as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “You were a judge at the cook-off. She’s letting you know she’s grateful she won.”

  “Well, yes, but I wasn’t the only one who made the final decision. And I certainly didn’t expect a free cup of coffee.”

  Artie grinned at her. “Hey, enjoy it. It’s probably not your last one. Who knows—maybe there is such a thing as a free lunch.”

  He elbowed Bumpy, who gave Candy a wink as Finn walked over to their table, slapping shut his cell phone. “They’re keeping it low-key until today’s events are over,” he informed everyone at the table in a quiet voice meant just for them, “but they’re moving quickly on it. The crime van’s already at the scene.”

  “Where did it happen?” Doc asked.

  “Upriver. It’s that picnic area about a mile or two from town, with the boat dock.”

  “Oh yeah, I know the place,” Artie said. “There’s good fishing from that dock.”

  “Yeah, been there a few times myself.” Finn scratched his head. “Caught a pretty-good-sized striped bass there last year. Anyway, some fisherman almost tripped over her body this morning just after dawn. Apparently he thought it was a dead animal at first. Got quite a shock when he realized what it was. According to early reports, she’d been dead several hours.”

  “So it happened sometime overnight,” Doc said thoughtfully.

  Candy scrunched up her face. “What was she doing out there in the middle of the night?”

  Finn shrugged. “That’s what they’re trying to figure out.”

  “Meeting someone,” Bumpy surmised.

  “Makes sense,” Artie added. “A midnight rendezvous. They argued. Things got out of control. It happens, you know.”

  “I know,” Candy said, remembering a similar incident up at Mount Desert Island the previous year.

  “A crime of passion, huh?” Finn considered that. “Could be.”

  “Except,” Candy said, “she just doesn’t seem like the outdoorsy, midnight-rendezvous type. I had her pegged for a more cerebral, museum-loving, wine-and-cheese
, sitting-in-front-of-the-fireplace-reading-a-good-book type.”

  “Sometimes love knows no bounds.” Wilma Mae spoke up in a high, clear voice, surprising all of them. “If she found someone she fell for, she would follow him wherever he went, to the highest mountain or the lowest valley, or even to a riverbank. I’ve found love in the strangest of places.”

  Everyone sitting around the table fell silent for a moment. It was, Candy thought as she glanced at the faces around her, a somewhat awkward silence. Obviously the conversation had taken a turn the boys were unaccustomed to, and they didn’t know how to respond.

  Candy decided it was up to her to get the conversation moving again. And she knew just how to do it. For better or worse, it was time to reveal a few cards in her hand.

  She cleared her throat. “Well, I suppose it’s possible she was there for some romantic rendezvous. Or,” she said, trying not to sound too ominous, “maybe she was just involved in something she shouldn’t have been involved in.”

  Now that caught everyone’s attention, she thought, slightly amused, as all heads turned in her direction. Maggie’s head had tilted quizzically, while Finn’s expression was stern and Doc’s was concerned. But Bumpy was grinning. “Ooh. Now what’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You’re not hiding something from us, are you?” Finn added suspiciously. “Remember, we’ve had two murders in this town in the past few days. If you’ve got something to say, you’d better tell us.”

  “And you’ve got to go to the police,” Artie added, looking nervous.

  “I know all that,” Candy said, “and yes, I am going to go to the police.”

  “Today,” Doc said, emphasizing the word.

  Candy turned to him. “Yes, Dad, today. I promise.”

  “They’ve got a lot going on right now,” Finn said, “but I’ve got a number you can call.”