Town in a Blueberry Jam

Maybe Sapphire had turned up something about Ray’s past that he didn’t want known. It was a possibility, Candy realized. What do you really know about him, anyway? Everyone has secrets. Maybe Sapphire found out what Ray’s were. Could she have confronted him, put a good scare into him, backed him into a corner so he felt he had no choice but to hit her over the head with his shiny new hammer?

But what could it have been? What could have provoked him into doing such a thing?

That was the question that gnawed at her as she blinked rapidly a few times and found herself standing in the back corner of the store. Forcing herself to focus, she ran her eyes up and down the shelves, back and forth. She finally spotted a few bundles of rolled-up chicken wire piled in the back of the bottom shelf, covered in dust.

As she knelt down and reached for a couple of bundles, she heard garbled voices from the front of the store. Cameron was talking to someone, but Candy couldn’t quite make out what they were saying. She rose and absently wandered down the aisle, her eyes raking over the shelves and displays, trying to remember if she needed anything else while she was here.

She turned into the next aisle and stopped suddenly. Then just as suddenly she backed up around the corner. She froze as her heart raced.

A uniformed police officer stood in the center of the aisle she had been about to enter. He hadn’t seen her; he was standing in front of bins of tools, his back to her, talking to Cameron.

“They’re right here,” Candy heard Cameron say to the officer. “We just got them in about a week ago.”

“How many were in the initial shipment?” the policeman asked in an official-sounding tone.

“I think we ordered eight.”

“There are five left. Who’d you sell the other three to?”

Cameron went silent a moment. Evidently he was thinking about his answer. “Well, Ray bought the first one, the same day they came in. He loves buying new tools. He’s in here all the time.”

“Ray Hutchins?” the officer clarified.

“Yes, sir.”

Candy thought she heard the scratch of a pen on a notepad. “What about the other two?”

“I think I sold one on Saturday morning to someone who came over from Town Hall. He said he needed it to work on the pageant set.”

“Do you remember the name of the person who bought it?”

As they spoke, Candy edged along the aisle, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. She pretended to look at chain saws as she eavesdropped on their conversation, just in case someone should come around the end of the aisle and spot her.

“I don’t know his name,” Cameron said. In her mind’s eye she could see the teenager shrug, his bony shoulders rising and falling, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his worn jeans. “He was just one of the construction guys.”

“A male then?”

“Yeah — um, yes, sir. A male.”

“How old was he, would you say?”

“In his forties, I guess.”

“I’ll need you to give me a description of him. So who bought the third hammer?”

“I don’t remember. I don’t think I sold it.” At that, Cameron shifted and called out toward the small office at the back of the store. “Hey, Mr. Gumm, did you sell one of these new Apex hammers to someone in the past few days?”

Candy heard someone grumbling and then a shuffling of feet. “Er, what was that?” came a thin, elderly voice from the office doorway.

“These hammers,” Cameron repeated. “Officer Martin wants to know who we sold them to.”

“What hammers?”

The shuffling feet came down the main aisle, which ran perpendicular to the one where Candy now stood, and then old Mr. Gumm appeared. Candy lowered her head and held still, hoping he would pass by the end of the aisle without see her. Fortunately, he was looking down at the floor as he walked past. He shuffled on by and turned into the next aisle.

“These Apex hammers,” Cameron said again.

“What, the ones with the red fiberglass handles?”

“Yes, that’s right, sir,” said the police officer as Mr. Gumm approached them. “Allegedly three of these hammers have been sold. I need to know who you sold them to.”

“Well, let me see now.” The shuffling stopped as Mr. Gumm thought about this. “I sold one to that butler fellow who works up at Pruitt Manor. Unpleasant one, he is,” Mr. Gumm grumbled. “Looks a lot like a bulldog, doesn’t he?”

Candy’s eyes grew wide as the policeman asked, “When was that, sir?”

“Well, now, let me see. Must’ve been Thursday or Friday last week, I guess. Yup, yup, that’s right. Cam’s off on Thursdays, so I was here by myself. That’s when it was.”

“I see. I’m afraid I’ll need to confiscate the rest of these hammers,” Officer Martin said. “They might be evidence.”

“Evidence of what?”

“It’s part of a murder investigation, sir.”

“Murder? In Cape Willington? Who got murdered?”

“A woman named Sapphire Vine. A hammer just like one of these was used as the murder weapon.”

“What?!” Cameron’s voice came out as a disbelieving shout that made Candy jump, even though she was an aisle away. “What did you say?”

Calmly, Office Martin repeated his statement. “Someone murdered Sapphire Vine, using a hammer for a weapon.”

“But that’s impossible!” Cameron shouted, his voice so high it was almost a shriek.

“I’m sorry but it’s true.” Officer Martin’s voice was strangely calm, almost cold.

“But she can’t be dead! She can’t be!” Cameron sounded as if he were about to cry.

“I know how shocking it can be,” Officer Martin said, forcing sympathy into his voice.

“Shocking? Damn right it’s shocking,” Mr. Gumm said. “And with a hammer? Well, that’s downright brutal.”

“It was, sir. The hammer we found at the scene of the crime was brand new, just like these. Didn’t have a scratch on it. Just to tie up any loose ends, we’re running down all the other hammers like it in town. That’s why I need to take custody of these. If more are sold it might foul up the investigation.”

“Well, I’ll have to charge you for them then,” said Mr. Gumm. “Those are quality hammers — our top-of-the- line. Cost eighteen dollars each.”

“Send a bill over to Town Hall. You can tag it with my name if you want.”

Mr. Gumm grumbled at that. “Durn right I’ll put your name on it. And you ain’t leaving here until you at least fix your signature to a sales receipt. I ain’t made of money, you know. Got a business to run here.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Cameron, help him bag up those hammers. I guess we got to give them to him. Just got them in — durn shame.”

“I’ll need to bag them myself,” Officer Martin said. “Special handling.”

“Well, do what you have to do,” Mr. Gumm said, and he began to shuffle away.

“I... I have to leave,” Cameron said suddenly. Candy could hear his footsteps head away back down the aisle and toward the door.

“Hey, boy! Where’re ya going?” Mr. Gumm called out, but there was no reply.

What was that all about? Candy wondered as she suddenly remembered that she had to meet Doc. She checked her watch. It was nearly one thirty. As quietly and carefully as she could, she walked to the end of the aisle and strolled nonchalantly up to the cash register, where Mr. Gumm was scribbling something down on a nearly used-up pad of sales receipts. He looked up at her as she placed the bundles of chicken wire down on the counter.