B. Haywood - Town in a Wild Moose Chase

They arrived in less than fifteen minutes. Two squad cars rushed up the plowed driveway, followed by Candy’s father in his old pickup truck. “What’s going on?” Doc asked worriedly as he climbed out of the well-heated cab, slamming the door shut behind him. “Anyone hurt?”

“I don’t know, Dad,” Candy said, walking up to him. “That’s what I’m trying to find out.”

She turned toward the police cars. She didn’t recognize the young, tall police officer who climbed out of the first car, but she certainly knew the middle-aged man who stepped out of the second one. It was Darryl Durr, Cape Willington’s chief of police.

He nodded his head at her as he came around the front of the car. He was a rugged-looking man, with a weathered face, pale blue eyes, and salt-and-pepper hair that curled at the neck. “Good to see you again, Ms. Holliday,” he said in a professional manner, with a slight nod of his head. “How’s everything been going today?”

“Well, to be honest, Chief, it started out fine but then took a strange turn.”

“You been having a little trouble out here?”

“You could say that.”

He gave her an odd smile. “Funny, isn’t it, how trouble seems to keep following you around?”

Candy folded her arms. “Yes, it is, isn’t it?”

She and the chief had talked several times before, though usually under less than pleasant circumstances, and their conversations often involved some sort of lecture from the chief, warning her to stay out of trouble and to stop trying to solve murder mysteries around town.

“Well, why don’t we go inside,” Doc said, stepping forward briskly to shake the police chief’s hand. “We can all talk where it’s warm.”

“Good idea,” Chief Durr said with a nod, and he tilted his head toward Candy. “Hopefully we caught up with you on your baking day, Ms. Holliday. Your pies are the talk of the town.”

He smiled again, more genuine this time, and Candy, realizing she’d tensed up, allowed herself to relax a little. It was true. She’d developed something of a reputation for her baked goods, especially her pies, which she sold to Melody Barnes, who ran a small cafe on River Road. She also worked part-time at the Black Forest Bakery, which Herr Georg, the German baker who ran the place, had closed for the season. But over the past year he’d taught her a lot about baking, and she had been preparing for the shop’s reopening in mid-April by practicing her craft as much as possible. In fact, she’d whipped up a German apple cake the day before.

She gave him a weak smile. “I’m sure I can find something to put out. Come on in and I’ll warm up the coffee.”

As they walked toward the house, Chief Durr indicated the tall, dark-haired officer who accompanied him. The young policeman wore a spotless, sharply creased uniform and brown utility coat. His shoes were shined to a high gloss, so they looked like black mirrors.

“This young fellow here is Officer Jody McCroy,” the chief said. “He’s new with the force, fresh out of the Maine State Police Academy in Augusta. Graduated near the top of his class. Thought I’d bring him out here to meet you in person.”

Candy gave the chief a curious look, wondering what he meant by that, but he had already turned away to talk to Doc. When she looked around, she saw Officer Jody McCroy holding the door open for her.

“After you, ma’am,” he said in an official-sounding tone.

She was surprised by how young he looked. She hesitated only for a moment, then gave him a nod and walked inside.

After she’d cut slices of cake and Doc had poured the coffee, they sat around the kitchen table. She noticed Officer McCroy had a notepad and pen set out in front of him. His hands were folded on the table. The young man looked prepared.

“So, could you tell us what happened?” he asked as Chief Durr sipped at his coffee, quietly watching her.

“Sure,” and she told them, pointing out the window as she explained how she’d seen Solomon Hatch emerge from the woods behind the house, how he’d appeared injured, and how he’d told her about a body in the woods. After she’d finished her story, they all walked out to inspect the spot where the old hermit had fallen. Hands casually in his pockets, Chief Durr squinted back up at the trees at the edge of the field. “And you say you followed his footprints?”

“Yes, but he must have erased them at some point. I lost track of him.”

“And he didn’t say anything else about this body he thinks he found?”

Candy said that he had not.

Chief Durr turned slightly and nodded at Officer McCroy. Without a word, the young man headed back toward his car at a brisk trot.

The chief turned back to Candy. “Okay, we’ll check it out. Officer McCroy’s going to search the woods and see what he can find. He’s just getting into his winter gear first. And I’ll also send someone around to visit Solomon’s camp. Most likely it’s nothing,” the chief said, looking Candy in the eye, “but one way or the other, we’ll get to the bottom of it. If you see or hear anything else from him, you get in contact with us right away, okay?”

She nodded.

“We’ll let you know if we find out anything. In the meantime—”

“I know,” Candy said, interrupting him. “Whatever it is, stay out of it.”

The chief smiled broadly. “You took the words right out of my mouth, Ms. Holliday. Thanks for the cake and coffee. Doc, good to see you again. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some paperwork sitting on my desk desperately awaiting my signature.”

Doc looked worried. “Are you sure you’re okay, pumpkin?”

Candy reached for her new tote bag, a stylish Kenneth Cole tan and brown number she’d picked up at a discount store in Bangor a few weeks ago, between Christmas and New Year’s. She’d taken along her best friend, Maggie Tremont, and they’d made the rounds, looking for bargains. As soon as she came across the bag, Candy knew it was meant for her. It was casual yet classy, and gave her professional image a positive tweak.

Today, it also gave her something to do with her hands. She was grateful to see they weren’t shaking as she checked the bag to make sure she had everything she needed—notepads, pens, her date book, digital tape recorder, business cards, flashlight, and her trusty cell phone, which was starting to show its age but still served her well.

“Dad, for the hundredth time, yes, I’m fine,” she said without exasperation. She knew her father was worried about her. He worried about a lot of things these days. The past couple of years had been rough, and they’d had a few close calls, financially and with the crop. They’d also had to invest in some new farm equipment, which they couldn’t really afford, but they’d bought it anyway. And they’d managed to survive, thanks to small revenue streams from multiple sources—as many as they could come up with. It was the Maine way of getting by.

Doc had recently published a couple of articles in a popular history magazine, and was working on another one, which brought in a few much-needed extra dollars. And Candy held down at least four jobs herself, though some were seasonal and others required only a few hours a week.

It was her job as community reporter that had her headed out the door today.

But Doc wasn’t ready to let her go quite yet. “You must have had a pretty good scare out there,” he said, giving her his most concerned look.

Candy thought about that as she zipped up the bag and crossed the room to the coatrack by the kitchen door. She reached for a scarf and began to snug it around her neck. After a few moments she said softly, “Well, yeah, I guess he caught me by surprise. And I have to admit I’m still worried about Solomon.” She paused. “But the police are in charge now, right? I think it’s best if I just stay out of it and go about my business.”