ceremony at Town Hall on Sunday morning.”
“Well, I’m sure you’ll make a wonderful Blueberry Queen,” Candy said diplomatically. In a fleeting moment, she thought of asking Haley her thoughts about Sapphire’s death but decided that it might seem inappropriate at the moment. Instead, she thanked Mrs. Pruitt for seeing her and asked for permission to contact her should she have any further questions.
A few moments later she was ushered politely outside, and the heavy front door closed firmly behind her.
As she walked toward the Jeep, digging in her pocket for her keys, she turned and took one last look back at the manor. Its stucco-and-timber exterior was well maintained, and the multiple gables, overhanging upper stories, and tall brick chimneys gave the place an unmistakable medieval appearance.
She turned, her gaze wandering. A walkway that branched off led to a flowing fountain, and farther off to the right was a four-bay garage. Several of the garage doors were open. Candy could see the tail-end of the Bentley sitting in the cool shade of the garage, and also what looked like a Mercedes SUV.
Along the wall in the far-right bay was a long workbench, with a variety of toolboxes, an air pump, and other mechanical devices scattered across its surface.
I wonder, Candy thought.
She checked over her right shoulder, then her left. She made a complete about-face.
No one around. She was completely alone.
Trying to appear as inconspicuous as possible, she meandered along the walkway toward the garage, stopping and turning frequently, pretending to admire the estate and the grounds. As she got closer to the garage, she angled sharply toward the Bentley, deciding to use that as an excuse if anyone spotted her, but veered at the last moment into the far-right bay. Nervously she scanned the workbench, then flipped open the lids of a few toolboxes, searching inside.
No red-handled hammer.
Cameron had told Officer Martin that one of the hammers had been sold to the butler at Pruitt Manor- Hobbins.
If that was true, it had to be here somewhere. She had to check on it, just to satisfy her curiosity.
She opened a few drawers and scanned the shelves above the workbench but found nothing. She was just about to turn and leave when a voice behind her asked, “Can I help you?”
Candy spun, her heart nearly leaping out of her chest.
Standing at the entrance to the bay, and blocking her exit, was Hobbins.
He had removed his suit jacket and now wore a dark-green work apron. His starched shirtsleeves were rolled up to mid-forearm.
In his hand was a hammer. A red-handled hammer.
Candy was so surprised she stuttered and stammered, unable to get out any actual words. “I… I… um… uh…”
“Are you looking for something?” the butler asked suspiciously.
“No, I…uh, uh… I was, uh… I just wanted to look at your Bentley,” she finally managed to say in a rush.
“Oh.” Letting out a breath, Hobbins carelessly tossed the hammer onto the workbench and waved. “Well come on then. You can have a look at it.”
“Oh, um, good. Thank you very much.” Candy forced a smile.
“It’s a ninety-three Brooklands Saloon style, as you can see,” said Hobbins as he walked to the car. “All the standard amenities-alloy wheels, heated seats, wood trim, traction assist, dual horns. Six-point-seven-five-liter engine capacity. Black with gray interior. Handles like a dream…”
Five minutes later, still shaking a little after the unexpected encounter with the butler, Candy climbed gratefully into the Jeep, started the engine, and drove back down the gravel driveway.
“You have to stop doing this to yourself,” she muttered as she turned toward town.
But at the same time she sensed she was making some progress.
Possible bribery. Missing hammers-and a hammer that wasn’t missing. And was there a link between the pageant itself and Sapphire’s death?
It all would make for interesting conversation when she met with Maggie for lunch at Duffy’s.
NINETEEN
Doc and his buddies were gone. The corner booth at Duffy’s where they usually held court was occupied by a suburbanite family, obviously tourists, with three bouncing children, one of whom had climbed on top of the leatherette booth seatback and was riding it like a horsey. Dolores the waitress, looking exasperated, was trying to coax the young boy back down into a normal sitting position. The parents seemed more annoyed at Dolores than at their own child.
“Hey, Dolores,” Candy called as the waitress approached her after having had little success with the family in the corner booth. “Have you seen Doc?”
“He left awhile ago with his posse.”
“Do you know where they went?”
Dolores shrugged. “Don’t know, honey. Sorry.”
As the harried waitress rushed away to deal with her demanding customers, another voice nearby spoke up. “Excuse me, but they said they were headed over to the Rusty Moose to play some pool.”
Candy turned. “Sorry?”
Sebastian J. Quinn sat in a nearby booth, alone. He had almost finished what looked like a hot turkey sandwich and mashed potatoes swamped in a river of brown gravy.
“I heard them talking,” Sebastian went on, pointing with a thumb to the corner booth behind him, “before they left.”
Candy nodded gratefully. “Oh, okay. Thanks, um, Mr. Quinn.”
“Please, call me Sebastian.” He motioned to the seat opposite him. “I believe they said they’d be back fairly quickly. You’re welcome to sit and wait for them, if you’d like.”
“Oh! Well…” Candy glanced around at the clock on the wall behind the counter. Twenty after twelve. She was to meet Maggie for lunch at twelve thirty. “I’m supposed to be meeting someone…”
“Wait with me then,” Sebastian said without a hint of desperation. “We can keep each other company. I’ll buy you a cup of coffee.”
Candy allowed herself a smile. “To tell you the truth, that does sound pretty good.” And despite her reservations, she slid into the booth across the table from Sebastian as he summoned Dolores.
After Candy had ordered, Sebastian said, “So, who are you meeting, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“Oh, just a friend of mine. Maggie Tremont.”
“Tremont?” Sebastian’s fork perched above his plate. “Any relation to Amanda?”
“Her mother.”
“Ahh.” He scooped up a forkful of mashed potatoes, dripping gravy, which he shoveled into his mouth. “Amanda did a good job Saturday night. She seems like a delightful young lady.”
“She’s a good kid. She worked really hard to prepare for the pageant. All the girls did. It was a wonderful show, though it ended strangely.”
“Yes it did.”
“It’s too bad,” Candy went on, giving Dolores a nod of thanks as her coffee arrived, “because everything that’s happened since then has overshadowed the efforts of those girls up on the stage that night.”
“I suppose everyone’s in shock over the news of Sapphire’s death.”
“That’s putting it mildly.” Candy ripped open a packet of Equal and stirred it into her coffee. “Nothing like that has ever happened in this little town before, at least as far as I know. It just doesn’t seem, well, it doesn’t seem real.”
“Are you familiar with this Ray fellow-the one they’ve arrested?”
“Oh sure.” Candy took a sip of her coffee. It was good and hot though a bit bitter even with the sugar-typical
