Town in a Lobster Stew

“You got it.” Rosie smiled at Candy. “You want anything else, honey?”

“No, that’s it, thanks.”

After the waitress had gone, Candy said, “I don’t really drink beer that much.”

Captain Mike waved a hand. “Ahh, it’ll be good for you. Put some hair on your chest. Now, what was I saying? Oh yeah, that’s right. Now, I don’t really know what that woman was up to, but she definitely had it in for Charlotte.”

“You mean Wanda?”

“What?”

“Wanda — she had it in for Charlotte?”

Captain Mike made a face at her. “Well, that’s what I said, wasn’t it? Anyways, this Wanda, I found out she’s been complaining to the folks on the museum board about Charlotte. She sent them a letter, so I heard. Told them she didn’t think Charlotte was doing a very good job. Wanted her fired. Well, Charlotte finds out and she’s angry as a wasp. She was like that for three, four days, buzzing around the place. Couldn’t even talk to her — she’d bite your head right off.”

Candy folded her arms on the table, suddenly very interested. “When did all this happen?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Captain Mike scratched at his beard again. “Sometime in the past few weeks. Two, maybe three weeks ago. Something like that. So anyway, after that, Charlotte started being real sweet to Wanda on the surface, but behind her back she was watching Wanda like a hawk. Charlotte was trying to find out what she was doing up there in the archives.”

“And you think this has something to do with Charlotte’s death?”

Captain Mike shook his head emphatically. “I didn’t say that. Nope, I didn’t say that at all.” He leaned in even closer, just inches from her. “I heard what happened to her. They’re keeping it all hush-hush, but I got my sources. She was strangled, you know. They said she had fishing line wrapped around her neck so many times they couldn’t count the strands. Cut right through her windpipe. I bet it wasn’t a pretty scene.”

At this new bit of information, Candy had to hold back a gasp as Rosie returned with two mugs of beer, which she set down on the tabletop with graceful ease, so not a drop was lost.

“Thank ye kindly, my dear.” Captain Mike grinned widely at the redheaded waitress as he took one of the mugs by the handle and raised it to his lips. He drank deeply and smacked his lips. “Good as always.”

She gave him a warm smile. “Let me know if you two need anything else.”

After Rosie had walked off again, Captain Mike turned his eagle eyes on Candy. “Someone done her in real good, that’s for sure. Why, I don’t know. Maybe someone was just trying to keep her quiet. But I’m not saying it was Wanda. Nope, I don’t know nothing ’bout that. I’m just telling you what I’ve heard. Charlotte’s dead, and Wanda was up to something, that’s for sure.”

Candy thought through what he’d said. In some ways it fit with everything else she’d learned so far. Wanda had been trying to get Charlotte fired, so Charlotte was fighting back. Was that why she’d entered the cook-off? To keep Wanda from winning? And did it mean Charlotte had stolen the recipe, as Wanda claimed?

But it still didn’t answer the critical question: who had murdered two people in town?

Candy thought about Charlotte with fishing line wrapped around her neck. What was she doing up at that landing in the middle of the night, in the middle of nowhere?

Who had she been there to meet?

She looked back at Captain Mike. “Why are you telling me all this?”

He gave her that almost nonexistent maritimer’s shrug again. “Well, because you’re a detective, ain’t you? And you’re trying to figure out what’s going on in this town. So I’m just trying to help you out.”

“But I’m not a detective!” Candy insisted.

Captain Mike grinned. “Well of course you are. You’re our detective. And we’re glad to have you.” He took a swig of his beer. “I’ve read your column, you know. Yup, I’ve read it.”

Thirty

A short while later, Candy was back outside. She’d found a couple of dollars in her pocket, which she left on the table to help Captain Mike with the tab, and after thanking him for the information, she headed past the tavern’s denizens to the front door. She exited onto Coastal Loop road, which was thick with people waiting for the parade to arrive.

Even though she’d taken only a few sips of beer, leaving the rest in the mug, she felt a little light-headed. Was it the beer, or was it what Captain Mike had told her about Charlotte’s death? She wasn’t sure, but she figured it wasn’t a good thing either way.

Still, she knew she was making some progress. She’d learned another valuable piece of information, which she added to all the other pieces she’d gathered. She wished she had her pen and notebook with her, so she could make a list. But as she started down the crowded sidewalk, headed toward Main Street, she tried to organize all the random bits of information into some sort of pattern in her head, hoping to see where it all led.

This much she knew:

Someone had stolen Mr. Sedley’s lobster stew recipe from a hidden drawer in Wilma Mae’s house — presumably Charlotte Depew. She had used it to make a stew at the cook-off on Saturday, and should have won, because she used an award-winning recipe. But she had lost.

Now she was dead. She’d been found upriver at a secluded picnic area with a boat dock frequented by fishermen. She had fishing line wrapped around her neck, strangling her.

She’d been battling Wanda Boyle, who wanted her fired. Wanda had been searching the historical society’s archives for information about Mr. Sedley’s recipe. And Charlotte had been very curious to find out what Wanda was doing up there. The mutual distrust between the two of them, and possibly even growing hatred, seemed evident.

Mr. Sedley was dead too, apparently beaten and wrapped up in a tarpaulin in Wilma Mae’s basement. According to Finn, he’d been killed elsewhere in the house and dragged there. And, apparently, the tarp didn’t belong to Wilma Mae. Someone — most likely the murderer — had brought it from somewhere else.

And then there was the strange issue of the cook-off contestants’ list with the black X across it, and the equally strange admonition from Judicious to watch everything going on that day at the cook-off. She’d done her best to do as he’d suggested. But she still thought she was missing something. What was it?

As her mind worked over myriad unanswered questions, she could hear, in the distance at the opposite end of Main Street, sirens and a band playing. The parade was on its way. The crowd was becoming tense with anticipation. Children craned their necks excitedly down the street, waiting for the parade’s arrival.

Someone hurried past, jostling her, but she barely noticed. Her thoughts were focused on the fishing line around Charlotte’s neck.

Fishing line.

No doubt the police were following up on that clue at this very moment. That’s probably why they’d talked to Captain Mike — no doubt he was an avid angler and probably kept fishing line in his boat. But the same could be said for lots of people around town. Finn and the boys fished all the time. Doc went out with them often. Finn had said he frequented that picnic area upriver. They all probably did. And they all probably had fishing line in their garages or toolsheds.

Even Ben fished.

Ben.

He was out fishing right now, wasn’t he? Wasn’t that what he’d told her yesterday when he called? He was going fishing today with Roger?

She thought about calling Ben to compare notes. He could probably give her some insight into the mystery. He might have even heard something she hadn’t.

She had other calls to make as well. She needed to contact the police department. And she wanted to call Maggie to see how things were going at the diner.