Town in a Blueberry Jam chm-1

by B. B. Haywood

  Now it seemed that, much sooner than she expected, she would have a chance to talk to Herr Georg about what she had found.

  As she rose, showered, dressed, and headed down to the kitchen, her mind was already churning, trying to figure out how she was going to broach the subject with him.

  Downstairs, Doc was drinking a cup of coffee at the kitchen table. Sapphire’s files were piled neatly on the table in front of him. Candy couldn’t remember leaving them like that. Her brow furrowed as she realized Doc must have been looking through them. By the look on his face she knew instantly that he disapproved.

  In silence, Candy walked to the counter, dropped a slice of bread into the toaster, and poured a cup of coffee. She moved about silverware and saucers and glasses, trying to fill the uncomfortable quietness. All the while she kept her back to Doc, but she could feel his eyes on her. She had seen him in these moods before — though rarely — and she wasn’t quite sure what to expect.

  But there was no way around it. She had to face him. She turned, holding the cup of coffee up toward her face with two hands. He was looking right at her.

  He pointed with the subtlest of gestures toward the files on the table. “What have you been up to?”

  For a moment she was a child again, a little girl being admonished by her stern father. Old feelings she hadn’t experienced in decades sprang into her heart and mind. But then she reminded herself that she was a woman in her thirties, responsible for her own decisions, and that she had made those decisions for a very good reason.

  “Dad, I’m trying to save Ray.”

  “And these will help?” Doc tilted his head toward the files.

  “They might. I think so, yes.”

  Doc didn’t ask where the files came from; he seemed to know that answer — or if he didn’t, he didn’t seem to care. It was obvious that his concern was for Candy, and for her alone. With a foot he reached under the table and kicked back one of the chairs. “Have a seat.”

  Candy looked at him suspiciously. “Okaaay.”

  “I just want to talk for a few minutes,” Doc said as she sat down.

  Candy placed the coffee cup on the table before her. “About what?”

  “About you.”

  “Me? What about me?”

  “To be honest... I’m worried about you,” Doc said.

  The toast popped up then, and Candy jumped up to place it on a plate and butter it. “Why are you worried about me?” she asked over her shoulder as she worked.

  Doc sighed and waited until she had settled herself again, then leaned forward and folded his hands on the table in front of him. “Are you happy?”

  Candy had taken a bite of the toast but stopped chewing at the question. “Am I happy?” she repeated with her mouth full, looking just a bit unglamorous.

  “This whole thing with Sapphire and Ray, and the way you’ve become so... involved in it. It’s got me to thinking.”

  Candy started chewing again, and this time swallowed before she spoke. “Dad, what’s on your mind?” She glanced at the clock on the wall. “I have to leave soon. Herr Georg needs me to work in the shop.”

  Doc nodded in acknowledgment, then got quickly to the point. “I’ve been watching you all week, and I realized that I haven’t seen you this dedicated to anything in a long time, not since you’ve moved up here — except for those damned chickens of yours. And it’s got me to thinking. Maybe you’re so involved with this Ray thing because you, well, because you haven’t had much direction in your life recently.”

  Candy rolled her eyes. “Dad...”

  Doc held up a hand. “Now hear me out. This is something I’ve got to say.” He took a deep breath, then continued. “When you were a little girl, you didn’t seem to know what you wanted to do when you grew up. Other little girls wanted to be teachers or doctors or lawyers or movie stars, but you had a hard time figuring it all out. Your mother and I were worried a bit about you then, but we knew eventually you’d find your way. And you did in college. You discovered a career, and then you met Clark, and for a while your life seemed to be on a fast track.”

  “You’re right about that,” Candy said, finishing up the last few bites of toast and wiping her hands with a paper napkin as she glanced at the clock again.

  Doc knew his time was running out, but he refused to be hurried. “And then life took some hard turns, for both you and me. I want you to know,” he said, reaching across the table to rest his hand on one of hers, “that having you move in here with me was one of the best things to happen to me in a long time. I’ve loved having you around again. But I can’t help wondering...” He paused, hesitant to go on, then said finally, “Well, I can’t help wondering if you’re here more for me than for yourself.”

  Candy started to protest, but Doc went on, quickly now. “You need more in your life than just me, sweetie. But it’s more than that,” he said before she could get anything out. “I have to ask — or I think you have to ask — what do you want to do with your life?”

  Candy almost laughed, though she held back because she knew her father was serious. She thought a moment, then rose, placed her coffee cup in the sink, and returned to the table. She kissed her father on the forehead and held up his chin as she looked into his eyes. “Dad, I think it’s really sweet you’re concerned about my life, but don’t worry so much. I’m just fine.”

  Doc smiled up at her. “I just want you to be happy, pumpkin.”

  “I know. Me too.” Candy kissed him again, then grabbed her purse and a manila envelope from the table by the back door. “I hate to run, but Herr Georg’s waiting for me. We’ll talk later, okay?”

  “Okay.” After a brief pause he added, “Just take care of yourself.”

  “I will.” And with that she was out the door. She jumped into the Jeep, headed down the dirt road toward town, and a few minutes before nine, she walked into the Black Forest Bakery on Main Street.

  Herr Georg was in the back kitchen, wearing a long white apron and a chef’s hat, his hands covered with flour. When he saw her, a wide smile broke out on his face beneath the curling white moustache.

  “Ahh, Candy, there you are, just in time,” he greeted her as she dropped her purse and the manila envelope onto a cane chair in a corner.

  She said hello, and as she grabbed an apron and tied it about her waist, she added hesitantly, “I have something I need to talk to you about when we have a break.”

  “Yes, yes, of course. We’ll have some time later. Have you had breakfast?”

  “Just a cup of coffee and a piece of toast.”

  He clucked at her with his tongue. “Candy, Candy, that is not enough for you! You are a grown woman! You dash about here and there! You need something to help you keep your energy level up. Here, try one of these. I just took them from the oven.” He handed her a raspberry cheese croissant oozing warm filling and giving off that luscious, just-baked smell, so powerful and redolent it almost made her dizzy.

  Light, flaky, and golden brown, it practically melted in her mouth. “Hmm, hmm, hmm. It’s a good thing I don’t work here regularly,” she told him as she licked her lips and savored each bite, “or I wouldn’t be able to fit through your shop’s front door, that’s for sure. Besides, I’d probably eat through all your profits!”

  He laughed heartily, his eyes twinkling, just as the bell over the front door tinkled. Candy quickly finished the croissant and wiped her hands on her apron. “The first customer of the day,” she announced as she darted out to the front counter.

  A flood of customers, as it turned out, came through the door, one after another, keeping her quite busy for the next few hours, and the morning passed in a rush. At times it reminded her of a feeding frenzy of great white sharks, and she was the chum. The smells coming out of the kitchen were heavenly, spurring on the near-rabid customers, who kept Candy hustling as she filled dozens and dozens of white bakery bags with Herr Georg’s delicacies and rang up sales on the old register. While the customers browsed
and sampled the pastries, they sipped tea and coffee and chatted about family, friends, and work. In amongst the talk about the weather, the summer traffic, vacation plans, and the score of the latest Red Sox game, there were worried glances and whispers about Sapphire Vine, Ray Hutchins, and Jock Larson. Murder was still a topic that occupied the minds of many Capers, but few seemed willing to discuss the terrible events of the past week out in the open, preferring to talk in the far corners of the room, in lowered tones, so as not to disturb the more sensitive among Herr Georg’s patrons.

  As noon approached, the steady onslaught of customers slowed, and by one o’clock thinned to a trickle. Herr Georg picked up the phone, called Duffy’s, and ordered deli sandwiches and salads for lunch. Then, the morning’s baking done, he wandered out into the front room to check on Candy and the day’s sales.

  “We’ve had a busy morning,” she said, showing him the sales register receipts.

  “Hmm, yes, that’s very good. It’s all the tourists, you know. They’re always hungry.”

  Fifteen minutes later, a delivery boy dropped off their sandwiches and salads. Herr Georg suggested they eat at a small table in the back room.

  As they sat, Candy decided that the time to confront him had finally come.

  “Herr Georg,” she began, “I have something to talk to you about — something that’s been bothering me.”

  “Yes?” He looked at her inquisitively as he took a bite of his smoked turkey and Swiss cheese sandwich, piled high with lettuce and tomato.

  Candy hesitated. “Well, it’s about Sapphire Vine.”

  That seemed to suck the life right out of him. The energy and optimism he had exhibited all morning disappeared in a flash, and his expression became solemn. He set his sandwich down on its wrapper. He seemed to have suddenly lost his appetite. “What about her?”

  Candy took a deep breath, then plunged on, explaining how she had been hired to write a column for the Cape Crier, and that she was given access to Sapphire’s files. She left out the part about breaking into Sapphire’s house the night before, but told him that, much to her regret, she had come across a file that contained damaging information about him. She reached for the manila envelope, opened the flap, and withdrew a handful of yellowed, crinkly documents, which she handed to him. “I found these.”

  His face went white. He seemed to know in an instant what they were. He took them from her as if they contained his death warrant, and read over them silently for some time, his lips tight, his eyes dark and hollow. “So,” he said finally, letting out a long breath as he set the documents down on the table, “it is true then. I hoped it was all a bluff.”

  “What’s true? What’s going on?” She felt a chill go through her. “This doesn’t have anything to do with Sapphire’s death, does it?”

  He looked up at her, horror-stricken. “Oh no, of course not! Nothing like that!”

  “Then what?” Candy’s tone was sympathetic. She reached out and put her hand on top of his. She couldn’t help noticing that, despite the warmth of the day, his hand was cold. “I’m not sure what this is about, but if there’s any way I can help...”

  He held her gaze for the longest time, as if considering what to tell her. Finally he nodded once, as if he had made a decision. He rose. “Come, we must talk.”

  Twenty-Six

  Leaving their half-eaten sandwiches and the yellowed German documents behind, Herr Georg took her by the hand and walked to the front door. He flipped the OPEN sign that hung in the door window around so it read CLOSED, walked outside with Candy, and locked the door behind them.

  “You’re closing in the middle of the day?” she asked him curiously.

  “I must be outside, away from here, to talk about these things,” Herr Georg told her with a hesitant shrug. “This is more important than a few extra dollars, and it’s such a nice day. Let’s walk.”

  Sensing the import of what he was about to tell her, she let him lead the way. “Okay, let’s walk.”

  With an expressionless face, he started off. Saying barely a word to each other, they crossed Main Street and angled toward Ocean Avenue, which was busy with pedestrians window-shopping and scurrying about. It was a warm day with clouds building overhead. The humidity was on the rise, and the air was sharp with the unmistakable tang of salt and the sea. A flock of gulls arced above, cawing in their hunger and unending quest for sustenance.

  As he walked, Herr Georg kept his head turned down, his hands clasped firmly behind his back. Candy tagged along as they turned down Ocean Avenue, passed the doorway that led up to the Cape Crier’s offices and, a little farther on, the glass front of Stone & Milbury’s. They crossed the street in front of the Pruitt Opera House and walked the rest of the way down the avenue, to Town Park.

  With the dull roar of the rolling sea in their ears, they strolled past well-kept flower beds and over freshly mown grass, until Herr Georg spotted a bench in the shade of a thick oak tree. He approached it purposefully, sat down, and beckoned Candy to sit beside him.

  “Do you know why I came here? Here, to Cape Willington?” he asked after they had settled themselves. When Candy shook her head, he gave her a melancholy smile. “No one knows, of course, except me — and, for a time, Sapphire Vine. But she is gone now. I had hoped that my secret would die with her, but it appears now that it will live on.”

  He let out a tired breath. “I have run from that secret all my life. It is time for me to tell the story, to let it out into the world, for good or bad.”

  Candy sensed the turmoil going through him. She felt deep regret at having brought the whole subject up in the first place. But, she reminded herself sadly, she had had no choice. She was on a quest to know the truth — and to save Ray. Still...

  “Herr Georg, you don’t have to tell me if...”

  He held up a hand, silencing her. “You’re right. I don’t have to tell you. But I want to. I have kept it inside for too long. The time has come for the story to be told. And you are the one I must tell it to, Candy. I am compelled to tell it, you understand, with all that has happened this week. You have been a good friend to me. I know I can trust you.”

  “Of course you can trust me,” she said, “no matter what it is.”

  He patted her hand. “I know, I know. But the story I have to tell is a painful one for me. It eats at my soul. You see,” he said, and his gaze shifted, out to the sea, far off to the east, “I was born on the other side of that ocean, on the distant shore, in Germany, just after the war — in the town of Wittenberg, along the Elbe River, southeast of Hamburg. I don’t remember much of my life there. Oh, small snips and bits here and there, a fleeting memory or two, but most of it is lost to me. My mother fled our home country a few years after the end of the war, taking me with her.”

  “World War II?” Candy asked in clarification.

  “Yes, yes, of course. I was born in 1946. We left in forty-eight. Not because we had to, but because my mother wanted to take me away from the fatherland — and away from my father.” Herr Georg’s gaze shifted back to her, and he looked hard into Candy’s eyes, unwilling to run anymore from his past. “My father was a war criminal — or so I was told by my mother, in her last breaths, before she passed from this earth. She told me he committed terrible atrocities — awful, terrible things — for which he was arrested and tried after the war. It was a dreadful time in our country’s history. My mother, to shield me from what was happening, to protect me from the repercussions of what might occur because of my father’s acts, took me first to England, then brought me here, to the United States, hoping to start a new life. And together we did just that.”

  Herr Georg’s gaze shifted away again as he went on. “We took a steamer to New York City, where we lived for a few years. I remember the transatlantic passage well, and many of my earliest memories are of that city. We changed our name, tried to start a new life — but our history was soon discovered. The sins of my father followed us to our adopted country. So we moved
again, northward — to Worcester, then to Lewiston, and finally to Calais, at the far eastern edge of Maine — as far as we could go and still remain in this country. My mother loved it there — she said she felt as close to the fatherland as she could be and still live in America. You see, even though she hated what her country had done, she never forgot her heritage, and she would not let me forget it. To make ends meet, she worked as a cook, then as a baker. She was quite accomplished and made a small name for herself, and so I learned from her. When she died I came here, because I loved this village when I visited once with my mother. I love the sea, and I loved the people here. And here I have been ever since — and my secret has remained buried... until Sapphire Vine started digging around in my past.”

  “How did she find out about it?” Candy asked in a hushed tone.

  Herr Georg shrugged. “Who knows? She was a gossip, you know — she talked to so many people. Somehow, somewhere, she heard rumors about me, or read something about me that sparked her curiosity — I don’t know for certain — but she soon found out about my past, and my father’s atrocities. One day — five years ago or so — she confronted me, almost as you just did in the shop. She told me she had evidence — documents. I didn’t believe her at first. I told her she was mistaken. Then she showed me one of them. She had many more, she said. I didn’t know whether to believe her or not, but I could not take the chance.”

  Candy felt a flash of anger go through her. “What an awful woman!”

  “Oh yes, she certainly was that,” Herr Georg said, “and much worse than you even know. You see, she threatened to reveal what she had discovered about me — that my father was a Nazi war criminal. Of course, I couldn’t let that information get out to the public — I have a reputation to protect, you know, one that I have spent many years building. If such a story were to leak out, I would be ruined.”