Town in a Blueberry Jam

“I am keeping it down,” Maggie retorted. “Just taking care of my umbrella.”

“Did you have to bring that thing along?”

“I wouldn’t have if you hadn’t parked so far away.”

“I had to park far away. We’re breaking in, remember? I don’t want someone to see the Jeep parked out front.”

“Who’s gonna see it on a night like this?”

“It’s just a precaution.”

“Well, bringing the umbrella along was a precaution also. What if it starts raining heavy again?”

Candy let out a sigh of resignation and took a few steps over the threshold and into the basement hallway. “Let’s just get what we came for and get out of here.”

“What’d we come for again?”

“The judges ballots, remember? We’ve got to find out if anyone else threw their votes to Sapphire. It might tip us off to the murderer.”

“Oh yeah, that’s right. Well, lead on then, Macduff.”

“Just try not to leave a bunch of puddles behind with that dripping umbrella,” Candy said over her shoulder as she started down the dark hallway.

“Um, I think somebody else beat us to that.”

“What?” Candy stopped and looked back at her friend.

Maggie pointed ahead of them, along the hallway. “See there? On the floor.”

Candy gave Maggie a quizzical look, then turned and shined her flashlight downward, then out in front of her.

A trail of wet footprints led down the hall, away from them.

“Where’d those come from?” Candy asked.

They exchanged a look.

“Someone else must be in here,” Maggie said, dropping her voice into a worried whisper.

Candy shook her head as she studied the footprints. “Not necessarily. Someone could have come and left. It’s been raining for a while. How long does it take wet footprints to dry?”

“At least an hour or so, wouldn’t it?” Maggie asked hopefully.

Candy shrugged. “I’m not sure.”

“Maybe we should leave,” Maggie suggested, hope in her voice.

“No, we have to do this. I think we’ll be okay if we’re cautious. Come on.”

Further on, the hall ended at a cross corridor. Turning right, Candy saw a stairway at the end of another long hallway.

“The town council’s office is down there somewhere,” Maggie said, looking over Candy’s shoulder.

Candy nodded resolutely. “Okay. That’s probably where we’ll find the ballots.”

“Do you think they’ll have them locked up? In a safe, maybe?”

Candy didn’t reply. She had wondered that herself, thinking this could all be a complete waste of time. But they had to try, she reminded herself. She moved on, holding the flashlight close to her body, so it was half-hidden, its light muted. “I think there’s a light on up there.”

“Where?”

“In one of the offices. It’s real faint, though.”

“Maybe they leave a night light on.”

“Maybe.” Candy found that it took all the courage she had to take the next few steps. The old building creaked as the wind outside drove at it, creating odd moans and echoes that sounded from the dark, distant corners of the basement. Refusing to be spooked, Candy continued on, with Maggie close behind.

Doors passed by on the left and right, all closed, until they came to one that was open, on their left at the far end of the hall. The faint light Candy had seen from a distance turned out to be a desk lamp, its shade pulled down and angled so the light was directed against the back wall. Candy checked the nameplate on the door: TOWN COUNCIL.

“This is it,” Candy whispered.

It was a windowless office with three desks and long shelves for books against the back wall. Two of the desks were pushed up against the front and side walls, looking relatively unused. The third occupied a space about halfway into the room, and was positioned so it faced the door. Papers and files were stacked neatly on its desktop, and containers for pens, paper clips, and pushpins were arranged in a neat row to one side. A nameplate on the front of the desk identified its owner as Bertha Grayfire, the chairwoman of the town council.

Candy walked to the desk and scanned the papers, then looked back at Maggie. “Why don’t you keep a lookout, just in case anyone’s still hanging around. I’ll see what I can find.”

Maggie nodded from the doorway. “Okay, chief,” she whispered loudly. “Just make it quick. This place gives me the creeps.”

“You’re not the only one.” Candy walked around to the back side of the desk, took a moment to assess the layout in front of her, then carefully started paging through the files and papers on the desktop. She found nothing useful, so she stooped and started opening drawers. The top middle drawer was locked. In the ones that were open she found typical items: more pens, pencils, and other office supplies; a box of envelopes; a discarded address book; a box of tissues; a well-thumbed dictionary and an old, battered hardcover copy of Robert’s Rules of Order.

She paused for a moment as a notation at the bottom of the book’s spine caught her attention. She half lifted the book with her finger, tilting her head slightly as she studied it. Hand-printed in white block letters on the spine were the initials C. W.

That brought back some memory. What had it been? It took her a moment, but she finally figured it out. It was something Doc had told her a few days ago, about the flashlight that had been found at the bottom of the cliff where Jock Larson had died. The flashlight, he had told her, had the initials C. W. on it.

Candy let out a breath and rolled her eyes. Of course! She had thought the initials belonged to a person, and had wracked her brain to try to figure out who it might be. But the flashlight hadn’t belonged to an individual. It had belonged to the town! C. W. stood for Cape Willington!

For a moment she was elated, but quickly she realized it didn’t answer anything. In fact, it only made for more questions. Why had a town flashlight been up on that cliff in the middle of the night? Who had left it there? She pondered those questions as she continued her search.

At the bottom of the desk was a file drawer. Candy dropped to one knee, pulled it open, and had just started exploring the folders inside when Maggie spoke up. “Oh look!”

Candy’s head popped up over the desktop. “What is it? Is someone here?”

“No. Look. Pictures.”

She pointed, and on an impulse crossed the room to the far wall, where a series of framed photos had been neatly hung. Maggie studied them as if she were in an art gallery, nodding and smiling as she viewed one after the other. Candy went back to the file drawer but was distracted again by Maggie, whose voice suddenly took on a serious tone. “Candy, you’d better see this.”

Candy looked up again, her face scrunched in momentary annoyance. “What?”

“This photo.” Maggie tapped a picture frame.

“I’m kinda busy at the moment.”

“This is more interesting.”

Candy squinted, studying the photo from a distance. “What is it?”

“Come and have a look.”

Curiosity finally overcoming her reluctance, Candy rose and crossed the room. “So what’s so important?” she asked as she gently laid a hand on her friend’s shoulder.

Maggie pointed. “I’ve never seen it before. Have you?”

Candy turned to the photo Maggie indicated, focusing in on the image.

It took her a few moments to register what she was seeing. It was Bertha, she realized, although she hadn’t recognized her at first. Instead of being dressed in a business suit or street clothes, Bertha was wearing her Dolly Parton outfit — the one she wore every Halloween when she handed out candy at her home, and for costume