wind back.
She took several more gulps of air before she looked to see where Bertha had gone. It was Maggie who had saved her, pulling the chairwoman off her. They were involved in a life-and-death struggle now, and Bertha was winning. She was like a cornered creature, inhuman, fighting for its life, trying to lash out at all costs, inflicting what damage it could. The chairwoman punched out with clenched fists, striking Maggie about the face and shoulders, and Maggie, trying to protect herself, could only cover her face with her hands as she curled in on herself and backed up against the wall.
Knowing she had the upper hand, feeling victorious, Bertha rose unsteadily to her feet. She stood glaring down at the two of them. “You’re both pathetic,” she snarled between gasps of breath, her face twisted so that she was nearly unrecognizable. “To think I was worried about you. You have to put up a better fight than that if you want to beat me.”
She looked around for her weapon, apparently unaware that it had gone over the side. When she found it nowhere, she pushed the wet hair back from her forehead, then rubbed her hands together. “Okay, I guess we’ll have to do this the hard way.” She looked from one to the other, then settled on Maggie. “You’re first.”
She stepped quickly to Maggie and lifted her, apparently in an effort to throw her over the side of the building. But Maggie would not go easily. She kicked out at Bertha and flailed at her with her arms, landing a few good punches, which forced Bertha back for a moment. But Bertha would not be denied. She backed away a few steps, then charged at Maggie in an effort to overwhelm her with power and fury.
As Bertha came at her again, Maggie screamed and ducked, her right leg going wide. Bertha stepped on it and lost her balance, just as Maggie came up, trying to throw Bertha off her. Bertha tumbled in the air, her momentum sending her up and over…
Her legs went over the far side of the railing first in an arc as her body dropped heavily. But her arm swung out and she managed to hook the top of the railing with her armpit. She pulled herself back in toward the widow’s walk and bounced, her chin slamming into the railing’s hard stone surface. She almost lost control then and fell back, but her hands flailed about, grabbing two of the rails. She dropped further down as she struggled to hold on. But her fingers were too raw, too cold, and gravity pulled at her. She acted instinctively, self-preservation driving her as she flailed about with one of her hands, reaching through the rails to grab hold of Maggie. She kicked frantically, trying to find a foothold on the slippery roof below her. But the weight of her body was too much for her. Her grip loosened.
Eyes wide and mouth open, she slipped soundlessly over the side. Candy and Maggie heard the thump as her upper body hit the rain-slicked slate roof, then a scraping sound as she slid downward and finally over the edge into the wet, dark night.
THIRTY-EIGHT
The storm blew northeastward overnight, spiraling into the Canadian Maritimes. By ten o’clock Friday morning, when Sapphire Vine was scheduled to be buried at Stone Hill Cemetery, the sun was beginning to break through thin, ragged clouds that reminded Candy of drawn-out balls of raw cotton-all that remained of the fierce storm of the night before.
The ground was still damp, though, squelching under the feet of those who had gathered in this place to pay their last respects. Glassy, shallow puddles that lay scattered across the uneven landscape had to be assiduously avoided unless one wanted well-soaked shoes. More annoying were the few stray drops of cold rainwater that fell without warning on uncovered heads from the glistening summer leaves of maples, elms, and red oaks that inhabited the cemetery grounds.
Standing beside Maggie toward the rear of the crowd, Candy wore a short-sleeve black knit dress and dark gray Birkenstock clogs, which she had thought might be too casual for the occasion but then decided were better than sneakers or her muddy rubber boots. She also had brought along a navy blue raincoat, which she held draped over her folded arms. The day was warming and the worst of the weather was over, so she had decided against wearing it.
Trying not to seem too obvious about it, she glanced first in one direction, then the other, scanning the crowd huddled solemnly at the graveside.
It’s a pretty good turnout, she thought as the Reverend James P. Daisy delivered a last few words, and Cameron Zimmerman, looking thin and bone weary in an ill-fitting dark brown suit, threw a balsam garland laced with ribbons and blueberries onto the descending black coffin.
So ends the shortest and strangest reign of a Blueberry Queen in all of Cape Willington’s history, Candy reflected with a mixture of melancholy and resignation. Still, Sapphire would be proud. She’s had a good sending-off.
Maggie must have sensed her thoughts. “The Queen is dead,” she murmured, looking uncharacteristically tearful. “Long live the Queen.”
“Here, here.”
Maggie dabbed at her eyes with a lace handkerchief. “Oh, Sapphire, Sapphire, we hardly knew ye! Why, oh why, did you have to be such an obnoxious flake? We could have been such good friends, you and I, if only you had been just a little bit normal!”
“Normality is in short supply around this place, in case you hadn’t noticed,” Candy mused with another furtive glance around at the crowd. “Besides, it’s like you said-her strange behavior wasn’t really her fault. She never fully recovered from the shock of losing both David and Cameron in such a short period of time. She’d been living in some sort of dreamworld of her own making ever since. I guess she really was crazy.”
“Done in by someone who was even crazier than she was.” Maggie shook her head. “It’s so sad. Just so damn sad.” Her voice trembled a bit as she spoke.
Candy took Maggie’s elbow empathetically. “Well, at least Sapphire’s left behind something good-a wonderful legacy, of which she had every reason to be proud.” She nodded toward Cameron and Amanda, who were approaching them.
In a blubber of tears and sobs, Maggie ran forward and hugged Cameron tightly. He looked uncomfortable for a moment, then leaned into her, put his arms around her, and hugged her back.
“It’s done,” he said softly. “She’s finally at peace. Now she and my father can be together.”
“Oh, Cameron,” Maggie said tearfully.
With the appropriate words spoken, the ceremony ended. Reverend Daisy came over to shake their hands and offer some words of condolence before he turned away to talk to others.
As the crowd began to disperse, starting off toward a line of cars nearby, Cameron, Amanda, Maggie, and Candy stood arm in arm, heads bowed, paying their final, silent respects to the former Susan Jane Vincent, alias Sapphire Vine.
“Rest in peace,” Candy said softly.
Maggie squeezed her hand. “She can, thanks to you. You’re the one who solved this murder case. If it wasn’t for you… well, a terrible injustice would have remained, um, unjustified.”
Candy smiled. “I had help-the best partner anyone could ask for.”
“We
“You never did tell us everything that happened last night,” Amanda said, looking over at the two of them. “When are we going to get the full story?”
Candy pondered that for a moment. She had just come from the police station, where she had spent an hour recounting the events of the night before. After that, she had received a stern warning from Chief Durr, who told her, once again, to never, ever do this again. But then he grudgingly shook her hand. “If you ever need a job,” he told her sincerely, “I might be able to find a spot for you in the Department.”
“It was nothing really,” Candy finally said to Amanda. “Just a little scuffle with Bertha Grayfire.”
“A little scuffle?” Maggie said, aghast. “We were fighting for our lives! We’re lucky to be here!”
“How’d you beat her?” Cameron asked, intrigued. “I heard she had a gun.”
Candy took Maggie’s arm. “This is the real hero,” she told Amanda. “Your mother was amazing last night. She saved us both.”
