“Okay, sure.”
“Can I get you something to eat or drink?”
Candy shook her head as she settled into the sofa. “I don’t want to take too much of your time.”
Ned finished his sandwich in three bites and dusted his fingers on the front of his shirt. “So what can I help you with?” he asked around a mouthful of ham, cheese, and French’s mustard.
“Well, I know you did a lot of work on the set for the pageant.”
He nodded as he settled into a well-worn armchair. “Yup, yup.”
“I was just curious about some of the stuff you did, how long it took, that sort of thing.”
Ned scratched his head. “Well, you know, it wasn’t that tough of a job. I helped build the backdrop and did some of the decorating... ,” and he went on to describe his contributions to the pageant.
“So you were in Town Hall most of the afternoon, then?” Candy asked. “On Saturday, I mean.”
“Yup, on Saturday. I wasn’t there that long. Just a couple of hours.”
“I heard you needed some new tools to do some of the work.”
Ned’s thick dark brows fell into a questioning look. “Tools?”
“Yeah, you know, I heard you had to buy a new hammer.”
“Oh, that.” He relaxed a bit. “You know, there’s a funny story about that. I loaned my best hammer to a friend, and would you believe he busted it trying to get a tire off his van?” Ned laughed. “He had a flat, and the tire was stuck — they’ll do that sometimes, you know. Most times you just have to give it a good kick with the heel of your boot, but he didn’t know that, so he banged on the metal wheel one too many times with my hammer. Shattered the handle. ’Course, he gave me some money to pay for a new one, and I had to make a trip to Gumm’s that morning. Bought this nice new red-handled job. And would you believe I lost it that same day?”
“You lost it?” Trying to remain nonchalant, Candy laughed with him — a good acting job, she thought.
“It sounds funny now, but I’ll tell you I was pretty burned up about it at the time. I set that thing down on the stage — at least, that’s where I thought I put it — and when I went back to get it, it was gone. Either someone stole it or...”
It must have dawned on him then what he was saying, because he stopped suddenly and looked at her with a strange expression on his red face. “Why are you asking me about the hammer?” he asked, suspicion creeping into his voice.
Candy waved a hand at him and laughed nervously. “Oh, I don’t know,” she said, trying to sound light and airy, though it came out incredibly forced. “It just sounded like an interesting story.”
Ned stared at her for the longest time, his face an unreadable mask as his mind worked back over the conversation. Finally he asked, “How did you know I bought a new hammer?”
“Oh.” Candy bit her lip, trying to think fast, but nothing much came to her. She shrugged, attempting to remain calm. “I guess I just heard it somewhere. It’s not that important. I wanted to ask you about Ray...”
“Ray?”
“Yeah, I know he helped you out on Saturday and — ”
“Candy, does this have anything to do with that murder?”
“Murder?” Candy repeated parrotlike, putting on her best surprised look. “You mean Sapphire Vine? Why, no, of course not, I, I...”
Ned rose abruptly. “I don’t think I should answer any more questions,” he said stiffly.
Candy felt her heart thump in her chest as she rose too. “Why not?”
He let out a long breath through his nose. “I don’t think I should say anything about it right now.”
“Have the police talked to you?”
“Candy...” Ned’s voice trailed off as he crossed his arms and admonished her with his eyes.
“Okay, okay,” she said quickly. “I’m sorry if I’ve said anything to offend you. I was just trying to get some info for my story.”
“Well...” He rolled his eyes. “No harm done, I guess, but I just can’t say anything else about what happened that day.”
“Oh no, of course not, I completely understand,” Candy said awkwardly, and made her way to the door.
I guess that was a stupid thing to do, she thought as she climbed back into the Jeep and drove home.
On the other hand, it had worked. She had found out an important piece of information about that day — Ned had lost his hammer. She sensed she was on to something.
In a moment of clarity, she knew what she had to do next.
When she got home, she walked around to the back of the barn. Doc was working on the coop, attaching the new chicken wire with a staple gun. “I’ll be right there to help, Dad,” she called to him, then turned, walked into the kitchen, and picked up the phone.
She called Maggie first. “Can’t meet you today,” Maggie said hurriedly. “Just got too much to do. Tomorrow, lunch?”
“Sure. I’ll meet you at Duffy’s at twelve thirty. I have a lot to tell you.”
“I can’t wait. See you then.”
After she hung up, Candy took Ben’s card from her pocket and dialed his number. “Hi, it’s Candy Holliday,” she said when he answered the phone at the other end.
“Oh, hi, Candy. What’s up?”
“About that job you offered me? I’ve decided to accept it.”
Seventeen
The next morning, Candy and Doc climbed into the Jeep Cherokee and headed up to Route 1, where they turned east toward the town of Machias, the county seat. The day was overcast, the remnants of the previous day’s storm still clinging stubbornly to the coast, which only added to their somber moods.
They were silent for most of the forty-minute drive, which took them through small settlements and past boulder-strewn blueberry fields ripe for the harvest. Candy kept the radio tuned to an AM news station, though they heard more static than news as the signal faded in and out. They were eager for the latest information about the investigation into Sapphire Vine’s murder, but there was nothing to be heard, which only made Candy more morose and Doc more restless.
The Washington County Sheriff’s Office was located on Court Street just off Machias’s main street, in a red brick building next to the Superior Court. They parked in the side visitor’s lot, checked in at the front desk, and at just after ten o’clock were shown into an empty room by a young, straight-backed, mustachioed officer named Wayne Safford. “You can wait for Ray in here,” he told them. “He’ll be right in.”
It was a small, windowless, cheerless room with a freshly waxed brown and white tile floor and walls painted a dull institutional beige. At its center was a narrow folding table surrounded by four metal folding chairs. A U.S. flag stood in one corner, next to a flag of the great State of Maine, with its moose and pine tree, farmer and seaman, set on a blue field under the North Star. There was no other furniture in the room — no pictures or photos on the walls, no one-way mirrors. The place smelled old yet efficient.
“Well,” Doc said as he dropped into one of the chairs with a grunt, “at least they let us in to see him. I thought they’d give us a hard time.”
Candy nodded her agreement and stood with her arms folded across her chest, hugging her shoulders. The air conditioning in the building must have been set on high, or perhaps it was all funneled into this small room. Feeling chilled, she wished she had brought a sweater with her. But who travels with a sweater when it’s eighty degrees outside?
She thought of sitting down beside Doc but realized she was too nervous for that, so she paced the perimeter of the room, looking for anything the least bit interesting to occupy her time, and failing miserably.
Fortunately, they didn’t have to wait too long. Sooner than she expected, the door swung open and Ray shuffled in, his head bowed low. He looked terrible. Even when he saw Candy and Doc, the most he could manage was the most pitiful smile she had ever seen. He sank heavily into a chair opposite Doc. His gaze dropped to the table and stayed there.
“I�
�ll be back in fifteen minutes,” Officer Safford said. He left, closing the door firmly behind him.
A loud click told them the door locked itself as it shut.
Doc tried to ignore that disconcerting fact. “Well, how ya doing, Ray?” he said in a lively tone that sounded much too forced. He managed a smile as he leaned closer to the handyman. “Are they treating you all right?”
Ray shrugged, a quick movement that showed defeat. He let out a long shuddering breath. “Oh, they been okay to me.” His bottom lip puffed out a little. He seemed to be fighting back tears.
Candy felt the despair, embarrassment, and confusion radiating off him in waves. “Are they feeding you, Ray?” she asked, looking worried. “Are you eating?”
Ray nodded, though he still stared at the tabletop. “I had donuts and flapjacks for breakfast. They even gave me some blueberry syrup. I been eatin’.”
Candy went to stand beside him, and she couldn’t help reaching out and placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Ray,” she said softly, “do you want to tell us what happened?”
That did it. The tear ducts opened, the emotions bubbled up, and he shook like a house in a hurricane. “I... I didn’t do it,” he stuttered between sobs. “I didn’t do that terrible thing they said I did.” He glanced up at Candy, a horrified look in his eyes. “How could they say I did it? They don’t know me. I could never do somethin’ terrible like that.”
“I know, Ray, I know,” Candy said sympathetically.
“We know you didn’t do it,” Doc added, “but what happened? How’d you get mixed up in this mess?”
“I don’t know, Doc, I just don’t know,” Ray wailed, shaking his head frenetically and dropping it into his open hands.
“Try to stay calm,” Candy told him, sinking into the chair beside him and looking at him intently. “Take a few deep breaths.”
He listened to her. He straightened and took a breath, then another, shaking with grief the whole time. That calmed him a bit, though the distress he felt was still evident on his face. “Why do they think I did it?” he asked finally, looking over at her, his eyes reddened.
Doc leaned forward in his chair, his hands clasped together on the tabletop. “Well, for one thing, Ray, they have witnesses who say they saw your truck at Sapphire’s house Monday night, right before she was murdered,” he explained as gently as possible.
Ray nodded as his lips trembled. “Yeah, that’s right. I was there all right. She left me a note. Said she wanted me to come over at nine thirty and help her fix something. It was late, but I went over there anyway, just like she said. But when I got there she got mad at me for some reason. She yelled at me and told me to go home. I didn’t know what to do. So I left. But I didn’t kill her.”
Candy exchanged a questioning glance with Doc. “Did you tell the police what you just told us?”
Ray nodded emphatically. “I told them — over and over I told them. But they won’t listen. They said I did it. They said they have evidence.”
“They do,” Doc said quietly. “They found your hammer at her house, next to her body.”
Candy watched Ray to see his reaction to this piece of information, and what she saw surprised her. His expression changed in an instant. He looked as though he had just been accused of the worst crime in the world — something far worse than murder, if that were possible. He started to wail in a high voice, a strange sound that reminded Candy of a wet kitten mewling pitifully.
“My... my hammer,” he said softly. “But how’d it get there?” He lost his composure then and broke down again, crying uncontrollably now.
Candy and Doc sat silently for a moment, feeling helpless. Neither of them knew what to say. They tried to comfort him, but this time it didn’t help. He just shook his head over and over and wouldn’t say anything else.
“Ray,” Doc said finally, trying to get the handyman to look at him. “Ray, do you have a lawyer yet? Have they appointed someone to help you?”
But Ray wouldn’t answer. The sobs finally lessened, but he sat crouched over, his hands around his knees, his shoulders hunched and arms tucked in at his sides, rocking back and forth. And then he started humming something.
Candy put her arm around his shoulders. “Listen, Ray,” she said, leaning close to him, “we’re going to help you any way we can. You hear that? Don’t you worry. We know you didn’t have anything to do with this. And we’re going to do everything we can to prove it. We’re going to get you out of here. That’s a promise.”
She didn’t realize until that moment that there were tears in her eyes. She wiped them away quickly with her fingertips. Doc reached across the table and handed her his handkerchief.
When Officer Safford finally unlocked the door and peered into the room, Ray was still sitting in that same position, rocking back and forth. Doc and Candy were standing quietly beside him. There was nothing more to say.
“Does he have an attorney?” Doc asked as Ray was coaxed to his feet.
Officer Safford nodded. “He’s got someone. And a county social worker has been assigned to him also. He’s in good hands.”
“What’s the lawyer’s name?” Candy asked.
“Big-time guy by the name of Cromwell. Down from Bangor.”
With that, Ray was led away, and Candy and Doc were left alone in an empty room.
Eighteen
As Candy and Doc drove into Cape Willington, the sun finally broke through the coastal clouds, brightening the day, but it did little to lift their spirits. They had talked themselves out on the drive home and had ridden the last twenty minutes or so in silence. But as they approached the Coastal Loop, Doc straightened, rubbed at his eyes, stretched, and then looked over at her. “You want to stop at the diner for a while? Get a cup of coffee maybe, see if Finn’s got any news about the investigation?”
Candy glanced at her watch. It was eleven fifteen. She was supposed to meet Maggie at the diner at twelve thirty for lunch, but she knew she’d have a hard time sitting still until then. She shook her head. “How ’bout I drop you off and meet you back there in a bit?”
“You got something planned?”
Candy shrugged, trying to dispel the disheartening feeling that had settled over her. “Ben asked me to stop by the Crier offices to pick up some files and sign a few forms, so I guess I’ll run over there and see what’s up.”
Doc nodded approvingly. “Good idea. While you’re there, see what you can find out about Ray’s case. Maybe Ben’s heard something. And I’ll talk to Finn and the boys. Then we can compare notes and see what our next move is.”
Candy felt only the faintest ray of hope, but at least they were doing something. “Sounds like a plan.”
She drove into town, turned onto Main Street, and pulled up to the curb in front of Duffy’s. Doc opened the passenger door and climbed out while the Jeep idled noisily.
“I’ll be back around in an hour or so,” Candy called to her father. “Will you be okay ’til then?”
“Don’t worry about me. Just don’t forget to pick me up on your way back through.”
She gave him an indulgent look. “I won’t forget, Dad.” Doc closed the door and, leaning in the window, smiled at her. “I know you won’t, pumpkin.”
“Dad...” she began, then allowed herself the briefest smile when she saw the mischievous twinkle in his eyes.
“You know, you’re mighty pretty when you smile like that,” he said with a wink. Then, slapping the side of the Jeep in farewell, he ambled off toward Duffy’s Diner.
Candy pulled back out onto Main Street and made an almost immediate left onto Ocean Avenue, her eyes scanning both sides of the street for a parking spot. But not surprisingly, there was none to be found.
She swore under her breath and considered making a U-turn right there in the center of town but thought better of it when she saw a police car in her rearview mirror. So, with no other options, she decided she’d just have to circle back around on the Loop and make another pass
along Main Street. Maybe, with luck, she’d find an open spot.
At the bottom of Ocean Avenue she dutifully put on her turn signal and, after pausing an appropriate amount of time at the stop sign, made a right turn onto the Loop, which took her southward along the coastline. A moist warm breeze blew in the window, bringing with it the heady, comforting smells of the sea.
She couldn’t help glancing off to her left, out over at the ocean, as she drove. It was a magnificent shade of deep blue today, rich and lively, a color that reminded her of nothing less than cool, ripe blueberries. The sea tossed restlessly. A sail or two could be seen on the hazy horizon. Flocks of gulls, cawing raucously, swarmed after whatever tidbits their dark questing eyes could find.
Candy loved being by the ocean. Despite the fact that she drove past it several times a week, she still marveled at it every time she saw it. There was something magical about the sea — perhaps, she thought, because it was constantly moving, always changing yet always the same, unending, unstoppable. It could be graceful and generous, yet dangerous and sometimes deadly, demanding respect.
But there was more to it than that. The sea had become almost spiritual to her. It had a way of flowing into her, inhabiting her, fulfilling her. For those few moments, as she gazed out over the ocean, the cares of the everyday world seemed trivial, so small in comparison to the vastness and majesty of the sea.
Whenever she was feeling down, or stressed, or overwhelmed by the constant jabs and distractions of the world, or when she felt she had lost her way, she had only to stand here upon these jutting black rocks that lined the coast and look out to the sea, and she would feel at peace again.
But she had no time to gaze too long at the sea today. The troubles of the world were pressing in, poking at her, like thorns on a rosebush.
Speaking of thorns...
As she angled southwestward along the Loop, the pointed rooftops of Pruitt Manor came into view above the tops of a few thick-trunked pines that had made a bold stand on Kimball Point. The place seemed to beckon to her, and she felt compelled to respond.
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