Town in a Lobster Stew

“An emergency? But...” Maggie’s eyes suddenly widened. “Oh my God! You’re on a case! You’re investigating another mystery, aren’t you!”

Candy knew she could never keep anything from her friend. She let out a sigh and flopped back down in her desk chair. With a resigned tone, she said, “Well, if you must know, yes.”

Maggie’s eyes suddenly brightened. “Oh, thank goodness. Something exciting is finally happening! I’ve been so stressed lately, what with everything that’s been going on with Ed and Amanda and all the drama at work. I need something totally different to do with my life for a while. I need something to occupy my mind. And a good mystery is just the thing. So, tell me,” Maggie said as she slid into a folding chair along one wall and tucked her hands expectantly into her knees, “what are you investigating this time? Spill the beans. And don’t leave out a single detail.” Maggie settled herself again. “So, what have you got?”

“Well, it’s not that much, really. Just a small case.” Candy held out a hand, with her index finger and thumb slightly apart. “Just an itty-bitty one.”

“Okay, so tell me all about it. No, wait! Better yet, let me guess. This’ll be fun.” Maggie scrunched up her face as she rubbed her chin. “What were you doing today?” She studied Candy with an appraising eye as she pondered her own question. After a moment, her eyebrows rose dramatically. “You interviewed Wilma Mae Wendell, didn’t you? About that recipe of hers!” Another pause as she thought it through. “This is about her lobster stew recipe, right? And the cook-off on Saturday?”

“Darn, you’re good,” Candy admitted.

Maggie shrieked in excitement. “You mean I’m right?”

“Yes, you’re right. But I didn’t think you’d figure it out that fast. Listen, you can’t tell anyone about this, okay? This is just between us for now. But yes, I’m doing something for Wilma Mae.”

Maggie’s voice was suddenly hushed as she leaned forward. “What is it?”

Candy hesitated, but Maggie had been a big help in tracking down Sapphire’s killer last summer. Candy might need her help again. “It’s nothing dangerous or anything like that. She just has a little... problem.”

“What kind of problem? Does it have anything to do with the lobster stew recipe?”

“Well, since you asked, yes.”

“Is she giving it to you? Is that it? There are rumors all over town she’s giving it away.”

“No, that’s not it. She’s not giving it away.”

“Then what?”

Candy leaned close to her friend and said in the lowest whisper she could manage, “The recipe has been stolen.”

“Someone stole the lobster stew recipe?” Maggie said loudly before being shushed by Candy. More softly, she repeated, “Someone stole the recipe? Who could have done such a thing?”

“That’s what we’re trying to find out.”

“And she wants you to get it back for her?”

“Yes.”

“Ooh, fun. It’s the search for the stolen recipe.” Maggie’s gaze shifted toward the filing cabinet. “That’s why you were looking in Sapphire’s old files, isn’t it? You were looking for clues.”

Candy nodded. “Something like that.”

Maggie’s eyes shifted back to her friend. “What does that mean?”

“It means,” Candy said dramatically, “that I’m searching for specific clues, in a specific file. Wilma Mae already has a suspect.”

“Who?”

“Don’t have a cow, but it’s Wanda Boyle.”

At the mention of Wanda’s name, all the excitement and enthusiasm seem to drain right out of Maggie. The expression on her face instantly deflated to one of total disbelief. For a moment she sat in stunned silence. Then she reached out and took Candy’s arm, as if she were comforting a terminally ill friend. “Tell me I heard you wrong. Tell me you’re not serious.”

“I’m serious.”

“Wanda Boyle? Are you crazy? You can’t investigate her.”

Candy understood her friend’s concern. “You think I’m kicking over a hornet’s nest?”

“Honey, it’s much worse than that. She owns this town. She knows everyone. If she thinks you’re investigating her or that you’re plotting against her, she’ll ruin you! She’ll turn everyone in this town against you. And she’ll ruin me too, because I’m your friend!”

Candy gave a feeble laugh. “You’re exaggerating.”

But Maggie shook her head adamantly. “No I’m not. You have to stop this investigation right now. Because if you don’t, Wanda Boyle will destroy us both!”

Seven

Twenty minutes later, as Candy walked outside and climbed behind the wheel of her Jeep, Maggie’s final words echoed in her mind:

Avoid Wanda at all costs. Stay on her good side. Don’t ruffle her feathers. Or we’ll both pay for it!

Candy blew out a long breath of air as she started the engine. She didn’t necessarily disagree with Maggie. But she hadn’t expected her friend’s strong reaction to the news of her latest investigation.

A short time earlier, Maggie had made a quick exit from the Cape Crier offices, saying she had to get back to work. “Something’s brewing over there,” she told Candy. “I don’t know what yet, but I’m going to find out. Whatever it is, it’s sure got my boss on edge, so I can’t be gone too long.”

But before she headed out the door, she pleaded with Candy to abandon the investigation. “You’re treading on dangerous territory,” she said ominously. “Just tell Wilma Mae you couldn’t help her, and let sleeping hornets lie.” She left with her final words of advice, her dislike and fear of Wanda Boyle evident.

That fear had caught Candy off-guard, though she completely understood it. She knew well of Wanda’s influence around town, and the odd power the woman seemed to wield over its citizens. After talking to Maggie, Candy sensed that going up against a force such as Wanda Boyle, if it came to that, might be difficult and perhaps even disastrous — if Maggie was to be believed. Still, Candy couldn’t imagine why her actions would cause any trouble. She was just doing a little poking around. She was no threat to anyone.

She decided, as she sat listening to the Jeep’s rumbling engine, that she’d have to be cautious and keep the investigation low-key. But at the same time she told herself that, no matter what happened, she wouldn’t let herself be scared off.

She had told Wilma Mae she would look into the situation. And she was determined to do just that.

So she backed out of her parking spot and headed down Ocean Avenue, past the opera house, which doubled as Town Hall, past the cemetery and Town Park, to the red light at the bottom of the street, where she flicked on her left turn signal.

Just ahead, past a wide expanse of black rocks, low shrubbery, and a narrow, pebble-strewn beach, lay the ocean, bright blue and moderately choppy today. She had rolled down the driver’s-side window and could almost feel the ocean’s spray on the wind. A seagull rose lazily on an updraft. Candy watched it until the light turned green, then steered the Jeep onto the Coastal Loop headed north.

It didn’t take her long to reach her destination. Just a short distance up the road she turned off into a parking lot on her right, which gave her access to the Waterfront Walk and the pathway leading to the English Point Lighthouse and Museum. She pulled out her purse, locked the door, and turned her face into the wind.

A few minutes’ walk took her through the low shrubbery and down a slope toward the rugged shore, where the lighthouse rose majestically, a round, white tower gleaming in the early afternoon sun. Around it huddled several buildings, including the Keeper’s Quarters and a maintenance shed off to one side.

As many times as she had visited the lighthouse, she still never ceased to marvel at its stateliness and