Town in a Blueberry Jam

kill her. You must believe that.”

“We don’t know what to believe until you tell us what happened,” Maggie said testily, still standing near the phone, “and our patience has run out. Talk.”

Sebastian settled back into his chair, apparently resigned to his fate. He sighed, turned his head first one direction, then the other, as if considering how to proceed. Finally he closed his eyes and leaned back his head, and then, almost imperceptively, he nodded. “All right. I’ll talk.”

THIRTY-THREE

“This whole thing goes back about eighteen years,” Sebastian began, “when we all were at the University of Southern Maine -myself and Sapphire-er, Susan-and David, Susan’s boyfriend… his father.” Sebastian nodded toward Cameron. “Susan and David were students in one of my English classes-I suppose that’s where they might have met, for I seem to recall they started the class as strangers, or at least as only casual acquaintances. I didn’t notice Susan much at first, but I certainly noticed David, almost immediately. He was a fairly decent poet-quite creative and passionate, though at times he could become too sentimental for my tastes. His writing was raw and undisciplined. Still, he showed incredible promise…”

“Until you killed him,” Cameron cut in.

“That’s nonsense!” Sebastian replied firmly, his heavy brows falling together. “Utter nonsense. I don’t know where you heard that, but it’s just not true.”

“You killed him for his poetry,” Cameron continued.

“I did no such thing.”

“You killed him and stole his poetry!”

Sebastian gave a sarcastic laugh. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. You weren’t there. How could you know anything about what happened back then?”

Cameron pointed toward the file on the desk. “It’s all in there. I’ve read it all. Do you want me to tell you what really happened?”

Sebastian’s face hardened. “Very well. You have the floor, young man. Illuminate us.”

“Okay. Okay, I will.” Cameron looked over for a moment as Amanda reentered the room. Outside, fierce gusts of wind were whipping the sea into a frenzied roar. Cameron glanced out at the darkness beyond the windows, gathering his thoughts, then turned his gaze back to Sebastian. “My mother and father met at USM, just like you said, though not in your class. They knew each other before that. They met at a freshman dance. He was a poor kid from Presque Isle, she was the daughter of a boat-builder from Bath. They were inseparable from the start- and from what I can tell, by the time they started your class, she was already pregnant-with me.”

“Oh my God,” Maggie cut in. “That’s why Sapphire looked so happy in that photo! And so heavy. She wasn’t overweight. She was pregnant!”

Cameron nodded sadly. “Yeah, she showed that photo to me. It was taken right before my father died.”

“What happened to him?” Maggie asked softly.

“I… I don’t know. She never told me-and there’s nothing in the file…”

Maggie gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. Candy only had to glance at her to know instantly what she was thinking, for the same realization had just come to her. “The obituary… the one we found in the book last night in Sapphire’s attic?”

Maggie nodded, unable to speak.

“What obituary?” Cameron asked.

Briefly Candy explained, and Sebastian confirmed the story. “Your father died in a car accident. Drunk driver. I remember it well. A tragic affair.” He shook his head, then looked over at Candy. “You’ve seen the clipping?”

“I have.” She glanced at Maggie. “We both have. Sapphire kept a copy of it stashed away.”

“Then you know I’m telling the truth, right?”

Candy said nothing, but after a moment she gave a faint nod. Sebastian let out a breath of air, while Cameron took this news with his lips pursed tight, his eyes glassy with emotion. Sebastian thought he still saw disbelief in those eyes. “I didn’t kill your father, kid,” he said again for emphasis. “It’s the truth, I tell you.”

Cameron’s faced hardened again. “If you didn’t kill him, then why did you steal his poetry?”

It took a long time for Sebastian to work around to answering that question. His jaws tightened and his brow furrowed as he weighed his options. But something inside him must have made him realize that it was time for the truth-all of it. “There was nothing calculated about it, if that’s what you’re thinking,” he began. “It just… happened. After your father died, your mother went into a deep depression. I watched it happen from a distance and even tried to intervene. But nothing could be done. She dropped out of school and I lost touch with her.”

Cameron let out a breath and lowered his head. After a moment, he said, “She wound up in an institution in Portland and stayed there for six months. That’s where I was born, but she gave me up for adoption. That’s how I wound up with the Zimmermans.”

“And what happened to your mother after that?” Candy asked.

“I’m not really sure about everything that happened back then,” Cameron answered quietly, “but some time in the years after she left that place, she changed her name, started a new life, and tried to find out what happened to me. It took her a few years, but she finally traced me here, to Cape Willington and the Zimmermans. That’s why she moved up here five years ago-so she could keep an eye on me, she said. The Zimmermans told me I was adopted but they never told me who my birth parents were. Now I know. She waited until my eighteenth birthday to tell me who she really was.”

Cameron paused, looking back at Sebastian. “She also told me what you did.”

“And what is that?” Sebastian asked defiantly.

“Don’t pretend you don’t know. She told me all about it-how one day, years ago, she was browsing through a library in Portland and found a book of poetry with your name on it-Sebastian J. Quinn. She remembered you from USM, so she checked it out and read it that night. She was shocked. She knew almost immediately that the poems weren’t written by you, were they? They were all written by my father! You stole his poetry and published it under your own name!”

At this accusation, Sebastian blubbered and shook his head in denial, his face growing red, while Candy and Maggie gasped in shock and Amanda nodded vigorously, as if to give affirmation to Cameron’s words. “It’s true,” she said, glaring at Sebastian. “He’s a thief.”

“I am not a thief,” Sebastian said indignantly. “As I told you… it was not a calculated move. Somehow his papers got mixed up with mine. When I first came across them, I couldn’t remember writing them, so I set them aside. Later, when I was assembling a book of poetry, I discovered them again and spent some time reworking them. It was only later that I realized what had happened. By then it was too late. But I never regretted what happened. I know they were David’s poems, but without me they would have been lost forever. I gave them a voice and shared them with the world.”

“Under your name,” Amanda pointed out.

“That’s very true, Miss Tremont. But at the time I felt those poems were too good to go unpublished, and as far as I knew there was no one else in the world who cared about them. I tried but I could never locate David’s parents. Apparently after his death they had moved on. Susan-well, Susan was out of the picture by then. So I proceeded in the only way I thought possible. I spent a lot of time perfecting those poems, polishing them, assembling them in a book, promoting them. And yes, there were times I felt guilty about it. But after awhile the guilt faded. History is easily buried. Your father was dead, long forgotten, and your mother was… well…” His voice trailed off.

“How could you have done such a thing?” Maggie asked.

“It’s despicable,” Candy added. “I bet Sapphire was freaked when she found out. Is that when she started blackmailing you?”

Sebastian sat with lips pursed, obviously uncomfortable, frustrated, and humiliated by his current position. For a moment it seemed as if he had clammed up, but finally he cleared his throat and tried his best to hold on to what small bit of dignity he had left. “No. She did write to me, threaten me, but it was only later, after I started to gain some national recognition as a poet, that she started getting nasty. She smelled money, I suppose. It brought