Today, though, she was less concerned with the food and drink, and more focused on hearing the latest information.
“I just got a text from Finn. We now know who discovered the body,” Artie said, dousing his pancakes with more syrup. “It was Francis Robichaud.”
“The snowplow driver?” Candy asked.
Bumpy nodded. “He was plowing that stretch of the Loop up past Fowler’s Corner right after daybreak and saw the body lying by the side of the road, halfway stuck in a snowbank, right there in front of him. They had to dig the body out, from what we’ve heard. How it got in there, no one knows.
“We still don’t know if it was an accident or something more serious, like homicide,” Artie continued evenly while Bumpy scooped up another spoonful of oatmeal. “They’ve got the area blocked off and the police are checking it out now.”
“Do they have any idea who it is… or was?” Candy asked.
“No word yet,” Bumpy said, “but Finn’s on it.”
“He said he’ll let us know as soon as he hears something,” Artie added.
“I can’t believe it,” Doc said, shaking his head. “Another mysterious death in town. This makes how many?”
“Not that we’re keeping score, but that’s five in less than two years,” Artie said, adjusting his glasses.
“That’s just great,” Doc said. “If this keeps up, they’ll start calling us the murder capital of Maine.”
Juanita brought Candy’s English muffin, along with a small plate of homemade blueberry jam, and she delivered Doc’s coffee and took his order, joking with him and the boys the entire time. That got them going, and they fell into their typical morning chatter session, which today focused on a variety of pertinent topics, including the mysterious body, the Moose Fest, Doc’s historical presentation later in the morning, parking in town, taxes, the weather, the latest eBay trends, and the upcoming spring baseball training season. “Twenty-two days until pitchers and catchers re-port,” Artie cheerfully informed them, and he proceeded to give his impression of the upcoming baseball season.
Candy listened for a while but soon lost interest, as she often did when they fell into their guy talk. She put her chin in the palm of her hand and gazed out at the winter scene beyond the diner’s windows. The streets were starting to fill up, and she noticed a police car slowly moving along Main Street. She looked around for Officer McCroy but saw no sign of him.
It made her feel suddenly very free… and strangely vulnerable. Her safety net apparently had been called away to other duties.
She sighed. She was back on her own, trying to solve a mystery.
Deciding she needed to do something, she took a last few gulps of coffee and slid out of the booth. “I’ll be right back,” she told Doc and the boys, though she wasn’t completely sure if they’d heard her as she left the diner.
Maggie was just opening the dry cleaner’s, so she slipped in to say a quick “hi” before heading back down to Town Park. The ice-sculpting exhibition was scheduled to officially kick off at ten, but several sculptors, including Duncan Leggmeyer and Baxter Bryant, were already on the scene, laying out their tools and preparing for the day’s events. But so far there was no sign of Liam Yates, Felicia Gaspar, or Gina Templeton. Had she withdrawn from the exhibition too, like her husband?
Fresh blocks of ice had been set up around the park for carving demonstrations throughout the morning and afternoon. Candy had seen a schedule of events and knew that Felicia and the Templetons (minus Victor) were slated to give demonstrations later in the morning, while Liam Yates, Duncan, Baxter, and Colin would entertain crowds with their skills in the afternoon.
A small crowd, consisting mostly of older married couples or families with young children, had gathered expectantly in the park, viewing the already-completed sculptures and checking out the as-yet-uncarved blocks while sipping coffee or hot chocolate.
Candy checked her watch. More than forty minutes before things got started, and maybe an hour or more before they got interesting.
Making up her mind, she turned on her boot heels and headed up the gentle slope, out of Town Park and up along Ocean Avenue, moving with the crowds. At midblock she crossed the street, checked the door that led to the
Upstairs, she found Ben at his desk. He looked as if he’d been there for a while.
“Up early?” she asked.
“Yeah. You too?”
She nodded. “Finn’s been talking to his connection, and the boys are monitoring the situation. We’ve heard a few details. What about you? Anything new?” She’d brought her tote bag with her, thinking she might need it sometime this morning, and now slung it down off her shoulder, resting it on the floor beside her.
“It’s a male in his early forties,” Ben answered, swiveling around from the computer screen to face her. He’d failed to shave or comb his hair that morning, which emphasized his rugged good looks. He checked his notes. “Above average height, fairly well dressed. No one’s recognized him so far, so he’s probably not from around here.”
“It’s not Solomon then.”
“No, it’s not Solomon.”
Candy breathed a sigh of relief as a guilty weight, which she hadn’t realized was there, suddenly lifted from her shoulders. She felt herself physically relax. “Thank goodness. I was so worried about him. It almost seemed like it’d be my fault if he… but he’s still okay, isn’t he? Or at least he’s not dead.”
“He’s not dead,” Ben confirmed. “Not that we know of,” he amended.
“Then where is he?”
Ben shrugged. “I’m sure he’s around here somewhere. He’ll turn up. In the meantime, I have a murder story to run down.”
“Need help?”
“Possibly,” Ben said, “but let me get a better grasp of the situation first.”
Candy nodded as she picked up her tote bag. “I’m just going to check on something in my office,” she said, and started along the hall.
“Oh, hey,” he called after her, sticking his head around the corner, “are we still on for our date tonight?”
She stopped and turned. “Date?”
“The Moose Fest Ball, remember? I got us two tickets a couple of weeks ago.”
Candy furrowed her brow, as if trying to remember. “You did?”
“Yeah, didn’t I… tell you?” He made a face as he considered his own words. After a moment it dawned on him. “I guess I didn’t, did I?” He looked surprised. “I think I completely forgot to tell you. I can’t believe it. That was actually very thoughtless of me. Candy, I’m sor—”
“So you got us tickets?” she interrupted.
He hesitated, uncertain of her reaction. “I did.”
She smiled. “That was actually very sweet.”
His expression turned hopeful. “You really think so?”
“Yes, I do, and I’d love to go to the ball with you, although….” She paused, concern showing on her face as she turned her head in thought.
He looked at her expectantly. “What?”
She turned back to face him. “It’s just… I don’t think I have a thing to wear.”
At that, he laughed. “Come on, I’m sure you can find something in your closet. Besides, you’d look good in just about anything. I bet you could get away with wearing what you’ve got on right now.”
Skeptically, she glanced down at her ensemble, which, admittedly, did not show off her best assets. “I’m not sure jeans, boots, insulated gloves, and a fleece coat would be appropriate for a semiformal dance.”
“Maybe not,” he said, his tone a little more thoughtful, “but remember, this is Maine, not Boston or New York. You don’t have to dress like you just came from a high-society cocktail party. And there’s still time.” He gave her an encouraging smile. “Why don’t you see what you can come up with this afternoon? If it doesn’t work out, we’ll just spend the evening in. But from my point of view, you’ll look beautiful, no matter what you wear.”
