Town In a Lobster Stew (38 page)

“Poker?” Candy couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Is that what this is all about?”

“Yeah. That’s part of it at least. But there’s a lot more.”

“So why don’t you tell me all about it.”

He waved a hand at her. “I’m getting to it, I’m getting to it. Things have been moving so fast I haven’t been able to keep track of it all myself—and now, with Old Man Sedley gone, and Charlotte too, well, the whole thing has heated up to the boiling point, hasn’t it?”

“It sure has. So, did you have anything to do with either of their deaths?” Candy asked point-blank, crossing her arms.

“Me? ’Course not. Well, not directly, I guess.”

“But you were involved?”

Bob gave her a piercing gaze. “Not in the way you’re suggesting.”

“Then what about the tarp in your shed?” Candy pointed toward the corner. “It’s just like the one Mr. Sedley was wrapped up in after he was killed. And what about that fishing line on your workbench over there? Charlotte was strangled with fishing line, you know.”

Bob looked horrified. “She was?” He shook his head. “I hadn’t heard that.”

“What about it, Bob? If you didn’t kill them, who did?”

“I don’t know.”

“Then what
do
you know?” Candy’s tone had grown demanding. She felt it was the only way to get the information she needed out of him.

And it worked. He sputtered a bit and gave her a dark look, but he started talking.

“Charlotte’s the one who came to us,” he said finally, reluctantly. “It was all her idea, and that’s the truth.” The pained look in his eyes returned. “Robbie . . . well, Robbie ran into some trouble with one of his games—several of them, actually. He was doing okay for a while, making some money at it. I warned him not to get himself in too deep, but he wouldn’t listen to me. He got cocky—and reckless. He started playing in these high-stakes games over near Bangor, run by some rich guy out of Boston—Marblehead, I think he said. The guy’s name was Paul or Pete or something like that. Old-money type of thing. Anyway, Robbie got in over his head.”

“How much?” Candy asked, her voice quieter now, encouraging him.

Bob hesitated before he answered. “Twenty-five thousand dollars, maybe a little more.”

Candy let out a low whistle through pursed lips. “Wow.”

“Yeah.” Bob ran a hand through his sandy hair. “It was a shock all right. When he told me that, he might as well have hit me with a brick. I was stunned. But he’s my son, you know?” He paused, averting his eyes for a few moments. He took a deep breath before he continued. “Robbie said they brought in some ringer, backed by this moneyman. So this guy strings Robbie along for a while and then cleans him out. Takes everything. ’Course, Robbie thinks he can win it back, so he goes in deeper. He lost a lot of money before he realized it was time to quit. The poor kid came to me asking for help. And I wanted to. But I didn’t have it either.”

“So you went to Charlotte,” Candy said, jumping ahead in the story.

But Bob held up a finger. “Well, not exactly. Like I said, she came to me.”

“So how’d she find out about it?”

Bob puffed out his cheeks. “Captain Mike, I guess.”

“Captain Mike?”

“Yeah. I had to talk to someone about it. So one day I told him what happened. Charlotte must have overheard us talking. That’s the only thing I can figure out, and it makes sense, since she was snooping around a lot, trying to find out what Wanda was doing. The next day she came to me, when I was working out here in the shed. She said she had a proposition for me.”

“Let me guess. She offered to lend you the money if you stole the recipe for her.”

“No, not lend.” Bob shook his head. “She offered to
give
us the money, free and clear. An even trade. I steal this recipe for her from Wilma Mae’s house, and she’d give us the money, no questions asked, so we could get Robbie out of trouble.”

“Wow,” Candy said again. “She was that desperate to get the recipe?”

“I guess so. I was pretty surprised too.”

“And you agreed to do it?”

“Of course I agreed to do it. People were starting to lean on the kid, make veiled threats. Time was running out. I didn’t have a choice.”

Both of them were silent for a few moments as they considered Bob’s predicament. Finally Candy said, “So you agreed to steal the recipe, but you said you didn’t go through with it. What happened?”

It took Bob a long time to answer. “I was ready to do it. I really was. Charlotte gave me the money, and I gave it to Robbie, so he could pay off those vultures. She told me exactly when she wanted me to break into the house. I think she might have been staking out the place. She seemed to know when Wilma Mae came and went. She even had this costume she wanted me to wear—old man’s clothes and a wig she’d made. She was pretty good at that sort of thing, you know.”

Candy remembered. Charlotte had dressed the mannequins in the museum’s new exhibit. She’d even made the wigs, she’d told Candy that day she first visited the Keeper’s Quarters.

It seemed she had used her skills for another, more sinister purpose.

It also seemed like she had everything well planned out.

Bob confirmed that thought. “I think she even took photographs of Old Man Sedley when he was out here volunteering—told him it was for a brochure or something like that. That’s how she got the costume and the wig so exact. Anyway, she told me if I dressed up like Mr. Sedley I could slip into Wilma Mae’s house without anyone noticing. That was the plan, at least. Get in, get the recipe, and get out.”

“But someone noticed,” Candy said as an image of Mr. Sedley wrapped in the tarpaulin sprang into her mind. She shivered as a chill overtook her, but she shook it off.

“Yeah, I guess so,” Bob said. “But they didn’t notice me, ’cause I’m not the one who broke in and took the recipe. In the end, I just couldn’t do it.” He paused. “I thought about it a long time, but I knew deep down I didn’t have it in me. I’m not a criminal, no matter how much I needed the money. So I pulled out at the last minute.”

“Charlotte must have been pretty mad about that.”

Bob gave her a strained look. “You have no idea. I’ve never seen her that mad before. She threatened me in all sorts of ways. She said she’d have me fired. She said she wanted her money back, but of course I didn’t have it anymore. She even threatened to go to the police, though she was just bluffing about that. We both knew that would never happen. I told her I’d pay her back somehow.”

“So if you didn’t break into Wilma Mae’s house, who did?”

Bob shrugged. “Charlotte did it herself, I guess. As far as I know, she dressed up in the clothes she’d made, put on the wig, and broke into the place. She told me she already knew where the recipe was located—something about a secret drawer. But I don’t know nothing about that.”

The blueprints
, Candy thought.

The pieces were finally starting to fit together.

“Do you think she killed Mr. Sedley?”

Bob shook his head. “I don’t know nothing about that neither.”

“So what happened after she stole the recipe?” Candy asked.

“Well, you saw her that day when you were here,” Bob said. “She was tense, but she was a pretty cool cookie too—especially if she’s the one who killed Mr. Sedley. And she was still pretty furious at me, as you can probably guess. She said I had to pay her back in installments, which I agreed to do. For the last few days she barely spoke to me. She seemed to forget I was alive.”

“Did you talk to her or see her at all yesterday? The police think she was killed sometime last night.”

At that question, Bob scrunched up his face. “The police were out here earlier today, asking me the same thing. She was here in the afternoon, but she left in a rush. I had the feeling she was meeting someone.”

“Did you tell the police that?”

Bob nodded. “Sure did. I also told them that she’d been pretty upset ever since the cook-off. She wanted to win that thing pretty bad. But I got the feeling there was something else going on. She became very secretive. I thought she was up to something.”

“What?”

“I don’t know for sure.” Bob pointed at the ledger sitting on his desk. “But I think it had something to do with that.”

“The ledger?”

Bob nodded. “I saw her reading it a few days ago in her office, but I didn’t know what it was back then. I just thought it was something she’d picked up in the archives. I didn’t realize it belonged to Old Man Sedley.”

Candy eyed the ledger. On an impulse, she crossed to it and picked it up. She opened the cover and glanced at its first few pages. “Maybe there’s something else in here we’ve been missing. Maybe . . .”

But she never had a chance to finish.

A figure had appeared suddenly out of the fog and now stood silhouetted in the doorway.

“I’ll take that,” the figure said, motioning toward Candy and the ledger.

Her head twisted toward the door.

It was Roger Sykes.

And he was holding a gun, leveled right at her heart.

“I see you’ve found it. I’d wondered where she put it. The silly woman was trying to hide it from me.”

His voice was surprisingly calm as he took a few steps into the shed. The fog seemed to cling to him, as if reluctant to let him escape its grasp. He wore a black jacket, gray shirt, and dark slacks. He also wore gloves, Candy noticed.

“Why don’t you set that ledger right back down on the desk,” Roger instructed her, “and step away from it.” He swung the gun toward Bob. “Both of you. Back over that way.” He motioned toward the workbench.

When they both hesitated, stunned by his sudden appearance, his face abruptly turned dark and his eyes lashed out at them, full of ferocity. “Now!” he shouted, jabbing at them with the gun. They both jumped. Bob sprang out of his chair as if bitten by a spider, and Candy quickly shuffled sideways, dropped the ledger on the desk as Roger had instructed, and moved away.

Side by side, she and Bob backed up, toward the side workbench. Both of them held their hands up in the air, even though Roger hadn’t asked them to. It seemed appropriate, and was more instinct than anything, especially when facing down the barrel of the metal gray pistol he held. They were both too shocked to speak.

Roger’s face had returned to its previous calm state, his sudden burst of anger gone as quickly as it had appeared. His eyes, though, were bright and glassy, with thin pinpricks of light shining out, as if lit from within. When he was satisfied they were a safe distance away, he strode purposefully across the shed, keeping the gun loosely pointed in their direction. He stopped in front of the desk, let out a visible sound of relief, and slowly reached out toward the ledger, as if it were some great talisman he had found only after a long, arduous quest.

“So here it is at last,” he said, taking it in a gloved hand. He studied its cover, then used his thumb to flip it open and read the first page. Satisfied, he closed it again and turned toward Candy and Bob.

“I’m sorry to put you though all this,” he said, sounding genuinely concerned. “It wasn’t supposed to be this difficult. It was a simple arrangement. I paid Charlotte—”

“You paid Charlotte?” Candy cut in.

Roger looked slightly annoyed at the interruption. His mouth twitched at the edges. “As I said, we had an arrangement. She would acquire the ledger, she would take that recipe she wanted, and then I would get the ledger, with everything else in it.”

“Why, Roger?” Candy asked, her curiosity getting the better of her. “What’s in that ledger that makes it so important?”

“Information,” he said after considering her question for a few moments. “Valuable information.”

“And that made it worth everything you’ve done—including murder?”

He gave her a hard look.

When he didn’t answer, she went on. “You killed Charlotte, didn’t you?”

In response, he reached into his jacket pocket. He pulled something out, glanced at it, and tossed it toward Bob. It hit the maintenance man in the chest. He flinched and fumbled for it but couldn’t grab hold of it, and it clattered to the floor between Bob and Candy.

It was a roll of dark green fishing line.

“Does that answer your question? I borrowed that from your boyfriend,” Roger said to Candy, allowing a trace of mockery to enter his voice. “Ben’s a very trusting fellow, you know—and not as observant as you’d expect for a newspaper man. He never noticed it was missing from his tackle box. Of course, he’s had other things on his mind this weekend—like that old man’s murder . . . and, of course,
you
.”

“What?” Candy wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly.

Roger almost laughed at her expression. “You heard me right. He likes you a lot, you know. He talks about you all the time—even when everyone else around him gets tired of hearing about you. But at least it was a way for me to keep up with what you’ve been doing around town the past few days. You’ve been quite active, I’ve heard. Interviewing that old woman. Searching for her recipe. Judging the cook-off with me. Finding the body. Getting that promotion—oh yes, I heard about that too. Ben has been a perfect gentleman at spilling all the secrets about your
investigation
. Of course, he had no idea what he was doing—or who he was spilling his secrets to,” Roger added with a slight grin.