“Really?” Ned’s eyes widened, he grinned oddly, and with his ample hip he pushed the front door open all the way. “Come on in.”
The living room was neat and welcoming, though it was clear Mrs. Ned subscribed to the Wal-Mart School of Decorating. “Wanna sit down?” Ned indicated the olive green sofa, which obviously was not from the Ethan Allen collection.
“Okay, sure.”
“Can I get you something to eat or drink?”
Candy shook her head as she settled into the sofa. “I don’t want to take too much of your time.”
Ned finished his sandwich in three bites and dusted his fingers on the front of his shirt. “So what can I help you with?” he asked around a mouthful of ham, cheese, and French’s mustard.
“Well, I know you did a lot of work on the set for the pageant.”
He nodded as he settled into a well-worn armchair. “Yup, yup.”
“I was just curious about some of the stuff you did, how long it took, that sort of thing.”
Ned scratched his head. “Well, you know, it wasn’t that tough of a job. I helped build the backdrop and did some of the decorating…,” and he went on to describe his contributions to the pageant.
“So you were in Town Hall most of the afternoon, then?” Candy asked. “On Saturday, I mean.”
“Yup, on Saturday. I wasn’t there that long. Just a couple of hours.”
“I heard you needed some new tools to do some of the work.”
Ned’s thick dark brows fell into a questioning look. “Tools?”
“Yeah, you know, I heard you had to buy a new hammer.”
“Oh, that.” He relaxed a bit. “You know, there’s a funny story about that. I loaned my best hammer to a friend, and would you believe he busted it trying to get a tire off his van?” Ned laughed. “He had a flat, and the tire was stuck-they’ll do that sometimes, you know. Most times you just have to give it a good kick with the heel of your boot, but he didn’t know that, so he banged on the metal wheel one too many times with my hammer. Shattered the handle. ’Course, he gave me some money to pay for a new one, and I had to make a trip to Gumm’s that morning. Bought this nice new red-handled job. And would you believe I lost it that same day?”
“You lost it?” Trying to remain nonchalant, Candy laughed with him-a good acting job, she thought.
“It sounds funny now, but I’ll tell you I was pretty burned up about it at the time. I set that thing down on the stage-at least, that’s where I thought I put it-and when I went back to get it, it was gone. Either someone stole it or…”
It must have dawned on him then what he was saying, because he stopped suddenly and looked at her with a strange expression on his red face. “Why are you asking me about the hammer?” he asked, suspicion creeping into his voice.
Candy waved a hand at him and laughed nervously. “Oh, I don’t know,” she said, trying to sound light and airy, though it came out incredibly forced. “It just sounded like an interesting story.”
Ned stared at her for the longest time, his face an unreadable mask as his mind worked back over the conversation. Finally he asked, “How did you know I bought a new hammer?”
“Oh.” Candy bit her lip, trying to think fast, but nothing much came to her. She shrugged, attempting to remain calm. “I guess I just heard it somewhere. It’s not that important. I wanted to ask you about Ray…”
“Ray?”
“Yeah, I know he helped you out on Saturday and-”
“Candy, does this have anything to do with that murder?”
“Murder?” Candy repeated parrotlike, putting on her best surprised look. “You mean Sapphire Vine? Why, no, of course not, I, I…”
Ned rose abruptly. “I don’t think I should answer any more questions,” he said stiffly.
Candy felt her heart thump in her chest as she rose too. “Why not?”
He let out a long breath through his nose. “I don’t think I should say anything about it right now.”
“Have the police talked to you?”
“Candy…” Ned’s voice trailed off as he crossed his arms and admonished her with his eyes.
“Okay, okay,” she said quickly. “I’m sorry if I’ve said anything to offend you. I was just trying to get some info for my story.”
“Well…” He rolled his eyes. “No harm done, I guess, but I just can’t say anything else about what happened that day.”
“Oh no, of course not, I completely understand,” Candy said awkwardly, and made her way to the door.
I guess that was a stupid thing to do, she thought as she climbed back into the Jeep and drove home.
On the other hand, it had worked. She had found out an important piece of information about that day-Ned had lost his hammer. She sensed she was on to something.
In a moment of clarity, she knew what she had to do next.
When she got home, she walked around to the back of the barn. Doc was working on the coop, attaching the new chicken wire with a staple gun. “I’ll be right there to help, Dad,” she called to him, then turned, walked into the kitchen, and picked up the phone.
She called Maggie first. “Can’t meet you today,” Maggie said hurriedly. “Just got too much to do. Tomorrow, lunch?”
“Sure. I’ll meet you at Duffy’s at twelve thirty. I have a lot to tell you.”
“I can’t wait. See you then.”
After she hung up, Candy took Ben’s card from her pocket and dialed his number. “Hi, it’s Candy Holliday,” she said when he answered the phone at the other end.
“Oh, hi, Candy. What’s up?”
“About that job you offered me? I’ve decided to accept it.”
SEVENTEEN
The next morning, Candy and Doc climbed into the Jeep Cherokee and headed up to Route 1, where they turned east toward the town of Machias, the county seat. The day was overcast, the remnants of the previous day’s storm still clinging stubbornly to the coast, which only added to their somber moods.
They were silent for most of the forty-minute drive, which took them through small settlements and past boulder-strewn blueberry fields ripe for the harvest. Candy kept the radio tuned to an AM news station, though they heard more static than news as the signal faded in and out. They were eager for the latest information about the investigation into Sapphire Vine’s murder, but there was nothing to be heard, which only made Candy more morose and Doc more restless.
The Washington County Sheriff’s Office was located on Court Street just off Machias’s main street, in a red brick building next to the Superior Court. They parked in the side visitor’s lot, checked in at the front desk, and at just after ten o’clock were shown into an empty room by a young, straight-backed, mustachioed officer named Wayne Safford. “You can wait for Ray in here,” he told them. “He’ll be right in.”
It was a small, windowless, cheerless room with a freshly waxed brown and white tile floor and walls painted a dull institutional beige. At its center was a narrow folding table surrounded by four metal folding chairs. A U.S. flag stood in one corner, next to a flag of the great State of Maine, with its moose and pine tree, farmer and seaman, set on a blue field under the North Star. There was no other furniture in the room-no pictures or photos on the walls, no one-way mirrors. The place smelled old yet efficient.
“Well,” Doc said as he dropped into one of the chairs with a grunt, “at least they let us in to see him. I thought they’d give us a hard time.”
Candy nodded her agreement and stood with her arms folded across her chest, hugging her shoulders. The air conditioning in the building must have been set on high, or perhaps it was all funneled into this small room. Feeling chilled, she wished she had brought a sweater with her. But who travels with a sweater when it’s eighty degrees outside?
She thought of sitting down beside Doc but realized she was too nervous for that, so she paced the perimeter of the room, looking for anything the least bit interesting to occupy her time, and failing miserably.
