Charlotte stiffened a bit when challenged directly by Wanda but otherwise kept her composure. “Well, thank you for your thoroughness, Wanda,” she said stiffly as her appraising eyes flicked across the documents Wanda had laid before her on the desk. “Yes, this is very helpful. It’s always important to keep our archives accurate and up- todate. Congratulations on the good work you’re doing up there.”
“Yeah, well, someone has to do it,” Wanda said under her breath as she pulled out the folder from under her arm. “You might want to see these as well. I found them in a battered envelope that must have been sixty or seventy years old. They’re architectural notes from Charles Bulfinch himself. In his own handwriting.”
“Oh my.” Charlotte looked truly impressed as she slid on her reading glasses and examined the papers Wanda handed her. “Well, isn’t that wonderful. I don’t know how you do it.”
“It just takes hard work and determination,” Wanda said smugly as she looked Candy’s way again. “And a willingness to go the extra mile. I simply refuse to fail. Life’s too short to settle for second best.”
“That is so true, isn’t it?” Charlotte said absently as she continued to examine the documents. Finally she looked up. “Well, thank you so much for showing these to me, Wanda. I’ll read them over later this afternoon.” She gathered the papers, clipped them together, and dropped them into the mahogany wood tray.
Without another word, Wanda turned on her heels and headed back the way she had come, motioning with a hand for Candy to follow.
She crossed the main display room, waving to Captain Mike as she went, and headed into another section of the Keeper’s Quarters, which housed additional exhibits, including displays on navigational equipment, log books, clocks, and uniforms. She turned through a doorway along the left wall marked ADDITIONAL EXHIBITS and headed up a narrow wooden staircase. Candy followed at a respectable distance.
The staircase took them to the second floor of the Keeper’s Quarters, located under the building’s angled roofline. Here, two rooms were devoted to the museum — one a map room, the other displaying exhibits of the lightkeepers’ families and domestic life. Three other rooms farther back on the second floor housed part of the historical society’s archives.
Wanda walked straight into one of the archive rooms. Candy followed her in curiously, surveying the place.
Shelves and drawers occupied just about every spare space along the walls, while a long conference-style table with a number of captain-style chairs provided a place to sit and work. Wanda had obviously made herself comfortable. She’d set herself up at one end of the table, with notepads, her laptop, and a cup of coffee close at hand. Battered folders, aged documents, yellowed drawings, and black-and-white photographs were strewn across the tabletop. Sunlight angled in a small south-facing window. The place felt warm and welcoming.
“What a nice cozy spot,” Candy observed.
Wanda gave her a contemptuous look and crossed her arms. “Well, look who finally showed up at the historical society — our very own community columnist. I’m surprised you finally found the time to make it out here. I would think this would be one of the first stops a community columnist would make.”
Candy made a wide-open gesture with her hands. “I’m here now.”
“Yes, you are.” Wanda took a seat in one of the padded wooden chairs. “Now I just have to figure out what you’re up to.”
Candy gave her a puzzled look. “I’m not quite sure what you mean by that.”
“Don’t act so innocent. You know exactly what I mean.” She hardened her gaze on Candy. “I suppose you’ve been getting my e-mails and letters.”
Candy nodded, trying to maintain a calm expression as her heart beat a little faster. “We’ve been getting them. And we’ve read every one of them. We appreciate your input.”
Wanda snorted. “I’m sure you do. Lord knows you could use it, considering that operation you’ve got going on over there, working with your boyfriend and all.”
“What?” Candy felt a jolt of anger shoot through her. She could think of several choice things to say, but instead she forced her emotions back down. This wasn’t the time for a confrontation with Wanda Boyle.
“Look,” Candy said in as honest a tone as she could muster, “I know we got off on the wrong foot a while back, and I’m sorry about that. I know I left your son’s name out of the column, and I’m sorry about that too. I know you wanted the job as community correspondent, and I’m sorry it didn’t happen the way you wanted it to. But I’m not your — ”
Wanda cut her off. “I know what you are,” she said haughtily, her eyes showing something other than anger. “You think you can just walk into this town and take it over. You think you can throw around your pretty looks and get whatever you want. I’ve been living in this town for more than thirty years, I’ll have you know. My husband was born in the next town over. I’m originally from New Hampshire. I’ve been a New Englander all my life, and I’ve seen your kind come and go. And let me tell you something, Miss Community Correspondent. You don’t impress me. Maybe you’ve solved a couple of mysteries around here, and maybe the people of Cape Willington are fooled by your perky attitude and your tight jeans, but I’m not. I know what you’re up to.”
That took Candy aback. “What do you think I’m up to?”
Wanda gave her a hard look. “Don’t be coy with me. You wouldn’t be here unless you wanted something from me. So what is it? Are you trying to horn in on my territory? Because if you are, you’ll lose. I’ll crush you. I’ll have you run out of town so fast you won’t know what happened — and your father too. I
Nine
Candy was still shaking as she headed back to the parking lot. Her encounter with Wanda had not gone well, and she blamed herself for it. She’d walked right into the hornet’s nest Maggie had warned her about and got stung. She should have been more cautious. Next time, she vowed, she wouldn’t let herself get sideswiped like that.
Wanda was a forceful person, no doubt about that. And Candy took her threats seriously — at least some of them. But she also wondered what motivated Wanda. Did she have such a deep need to feel accepted around town that she was willing to do anything she could to gain recognition — and threaten those who failed to buy into her carefully cultivated reputation as a wonderful human being, when in truth she was anything but?
It was a question Candy didn’t have an answer for.
One thing was certain — Wanda, at least for now, was the key suspect in the theft of Wilma Mae’s lobster stew recipe, especially given her research of John Patrick Mulroy. But Candy had been unable to determine if Wanda had actually stolen the recipe — not that she hadn’t tried.
After Wanda’s initial threats, Candy had attempted to cool things off by steering the conversation back to more neutral ground. She was intrigued by Wanda’s research and wanted to find out what she knew about Mulroy and his tendency to build secret hiding places into the homes he designed. She also wanted to ask a few questions about Wanda’s brother, the carpenter. Was he the one who had worked on Wilma Mae’s shelving unit in the upstairs bedroom? That could be a critical piece of the puzzle.
But Wanda had been frustratingly uncooperative. She sat back in her chair, crossed her arms, and glared at Candy, refusing to say anything about her research or anything else relating to the historical society. “You won’t get any information out of me,” she’d said. “If you want to know something, you’ll have to find out yourself.”
Candy remained as polite as possible, asking about the architects who had designed some of the historical houses in town. In response, Wanda handed her a few brochures that explained the upcoming summer programs, but she was of no more help.
Candy had been tempted to ask Wanda about her visits to Wilma Mae’s house. And she wanted to ask about Wanda’s involvement with the cook-off itself. But in the end, she thought she should leave well enough alone. So she had finally shaken her head and left.
Downstairs, Charlotte had disappeared, and Captain Mike was engrossed in a mystery novel, so Candy headed out of the building without another word to anyone.
As she started up the path toward the parking lot, she felt a strange itching on the back of her neck, as if someone were watching her. She turned quickly, eyes searching, but saw nothing suspicious, no one lurking behind her. Off to the right of the Keeper’s Quarters stood a maintenance shed, and inside she saw a large, burly man with
