Town In a Lobster Stew (32 page)

That was it.

Candy felt cold. That silly recipe was indeed causing all sorts of commotion.

Oliver must have told Roger about the switched numbers, she’d realized after much consideration. That’s why Roger avoided the stews cooked by Wanda and Charlotte, calling them
gimmicky
. Somehow he must have known which stews were theirs, and he’d refused to consider either of them for the top three. So, in a way, the results
had
been tainted. The stew that should have won had not.

She turned back to Oliver, not realizing she’d turned away. Her musings had overtaken her for a few moments. He appeared to have spoken, but she had missed it. “I’m sorry, could you repeat that?”

Again, Oliver gave her an annoyed look. “I
said
, why would you say something like that?”

Candy looked at him, and this time there was nothing but honesty on her face. “Because Charlotte’s recipe should have won.”

Oliver sighed impatiently as he straightened in his chair, as if ready to rise, bringing the meeting to a halt. He checked his watch. “Candy, I’m a busy man. I don’t have time for games. If you have something to ask me, then ask. Otherwise, I have an inn full of guests and an overworked staff to deal with.”

He gave Candy a hard look as she bit her lip. Her mind raced. There was something else. What was she missing?

Suddenly she remembered. She sat forward and returned his look. “Okay, Oliver, one last question and then I’ll get out of your hair. What did Charlotte say to you when she approached you after the contest?”

“After the contest?”

“That’s right. She came up to you on the lawn, didn’t she? She had something to say to you.”

Oliver stiffened as he recalled the incident. “Oh yes. I know what you’re referring to. Yes, she did approach me, in a very angered state. I thought she was just upset because she’d lost the contest. I said a few words to try to calm her down, but she obviously wasn’t listening to me. I told her I’d be happy to discuss the situation with her at a later date . . .” His voice trailed off for a moment as the memory of the episode took full shape in his mind. “And then . . . and then she said something very strange to me.”

He was silent as he considered the words, his gaze distant. Then his eyes darted back and met Candy’s. “She said,
He promised, he promised
. She repeated it several times, with great conviction. It was, to be honest, somewhat . . . disturbing.”

“What do you think she meant by that?” Candy asked, intrigued.

Oliver shook his head. “I honestly have no idea.”

“Did she say anything else?”

He thought about it but quickly shook his head. “Not that I can recall.” He stopped, his eyes darting again, his lips working. “There was . . . one other thing, though.”

She watched him, enthralled. “And what would that be, Oliver?”

“Well, it was something else I noticed that day—something very strange. Right before Wilma Mae fainted.”

“Yes?” Candy said, coaxing him on.

“Well, I was quite cautious with the samples that day. I supervised Robbie, Alby, and the other staff members as they collected the bowls of stew from the contestants, and I double- and triple-checked with Robbie to make sure each sample was correctly positioned next to the proper placard. I didn’t want any mix-ups, and everything was correct the final time I checked. And then”—he blinked several times—“and then I looked over, and I saw one of the bowls of stew sitting right in front of Mrs. Wendell.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, it was the oddest thing. Someone had moved one of the bowls of stew—and placed it directly in front of her.”

Candy’s eyes turned away, and she felt her heart quicken as she considered the ramifications of that. Had someone placed Charlotte’s bowl of stew in front of Wilma Mae on purpose, knowing she would recognize it as Mr. Sedley’s recipe? And if so, why?

It also meant . . .

Her gaze snapped back to Oliver. “It means someone else was trying to sabotage the results.”

He sighed wearily and checked his watch again. “Honestly, I don’t know what it means. But I don’t have time to figure it out right now.” He stood. “Candy, this has been enlightening, but I hope we don’t have to talk about it again. And I hope you’re discreet about what you’ve learned. Juanita Perez cooked a great stew. She deserved to win. As I’ve said, I’m confident in our judges’ final decision. I’d like to leave it at that, if it’s all the same to you.”

Her cell phone rang the moment she walked out of the inn. She fished it out of her pocket as she trotted down the stairs. Stepping onto the lawn, she angled to her left, back toward Ocean Avenue, moving at a quick pace. “Hello?”

“Where are you?”

“Hey, Mags. Sorry, I got delayed. I had to make another stop.”

“Everything go okay? You find that person you were looking for?”

“I did. Nice work getting me out of there.”

Maggie laughed softly. “Hey, it was a cinch, thanks to that disgusting old bottle of ketchup. And it was actually kind of fun. They never even noticed you were gone.”

“Were they upset?”

“Naw, they’re fine. Juanita got them some soda water and we got most of the stains out. It livened up the place for a few minutes, and then they got to talking about some golf trip they’re planning and disappeared into that little world of theirs.”

“Are they still there?”

“No, they headed out to see the parade.”

“They left you alone?”

“We told them to go ahead.”

“You and Wilma Mae didn’t go along?”

Maggie lowered her voice over the phone. “We talked about it. Wilma Mae wanted to watch the ceremony out at the cemetery. But we’re getting a little . . . tired. I’m thinking maybe we should take her home.”

Candy put a hand to her forehead. She’d been so busy, she hadn’t considered how Wilma Mae must be feeling, what with all that had happened in her life lately. “You’re right. The poor thing’s been through a lot. Okay, I’m on my way. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

She keyed off the phone and was just about to close it when she noticed an alert telling her she had a new text message. Curious, she thumbed through the menus and read the subject line on the top message.

It was from an unidentified number.

She pressed the middle button, displaying the message:

Candy’s mouth tightened.

Cinnamon Girl. Wanda.

Candy read the message again, her eyes lingering on the last few words:
you want to see this.

See what? Had Wanda found the ledger?

Candy checked the time on her phone. It was a few minutes before two o’clock. She flipped the phone closed and slid it into the front pocket of her jeans. If she wanted to make it back to her place in time to meet Wanda, she’d have to hurry.

Now that the parade had passed, Ocean Avenue was jammed with people hurrying off in every direction as the first cars allowed back onto the road started inching their way up along the Loop. She could hear the sounds of the band and sirens fading into the distance as the parade marched northwest toward Stone Hill Cemetery.

She quickened her pace, but immediately the dispersing crowd slowed her up, making her move in starts and stops.
At this pace I’ll never make it home in time to meet Wanda
, she thought.

On a sudden impulse she reached into her pocket for the phone and called Maggie again. “Can you meet me at the Jeep? I have to hurry.”

“Sure. What’s up?”

“I’ll tell you in the car.”

A short time later, feeling a bit bedraggled after rushing about and fighting her way through the crowds, she saw Maggie standing beside the Jeep, and waved.

“Who’s your hairdresser?” her best friend asked as she walked up.

Candy gave her a half smile. “Why?”

Maggie discreetly indicated her hair. “You might want to make an appointment.”

Candy’s hand instantly went to her hair. “Does it look that bad?” she asked in an exaggerated whisper.

“Nothing a good comb-through won’t fix.” Maggie reached up to brush back several loose strands of Candy’s hair and arrange it a bit. “There, that helps. Oh, here. You probably need this.” She handed over Candy’s purse, which she’d been carrying. “I found your keys and opened it up. I hope that’s okay.”

She pointed through the window. Wilma Mae was sitting in the backseat, wrapped in a shawl. When she saw Candy, the elderly woman waved with her fingers and smiled weakly.

Candy opened the driver’s-side door and climbed in. “How’s she doing?”

“She’s hanging in there. Aren’t you, Wilma Mae?” Maggie flashed a wave at the elderly woman as she scooted around the front of the Jeep and climbed into the passenger seat. “We had fun with the boys, but then they took off and left us girls sitting in the booth alone, so we sort of watched the parade from there.” She looked over at Candy as she snapped her seat belt closed. “So, it sounds like you’ve been busy.”

“I have, and I found out some interesting things.”

“Like what?”

Candy started up the Jeep, checked the rearview mirror, and looked behind her as she backed out. “Like Wanda was trying to get Charlotte fired.”

“Really?”

“Yup, and I got some interesting news from Oliver about the cook-off and that stew Wilma Mae tasted.”

“My, my.”

“And, oh yeah, Captain Mike’s watching my back.”

Maggie laughed. “Captain Mike? That old geezer?”

“The very one. If I’m ever in trouble, and you need to get help, he’s definitely the one you should call.” And as they sat in a long line of cars waiting to exit the parking lot, Candy told Maggie everything she’d found out about Charlotte and Wanda and the contestants’ sheet on Robbie’s clipboard and the mysteriously mobile bowl of lobster stew that had somehow showed up in front of Wilma Mae.

“Who could have put it there?” Maggie asked.

“I can think of several people right off the bat.” Candy flicked on her signal and finally made a left-hand turn out of the parking lot onto the Loop, aided by a uniformed police officer, who held the traffic back for them. Maggie waved politely at the nice officer. “Like Robbie Bridges.”

“Or Roger Sykes.”

“Yup, there’s him. Alby could have done it too, I suppose. Even Wanda, though I don’t recall seeing her around the judges’ table. Or maybe there’s someone else we don’t know about yet.”

“Of course, that’s the stew Wilma Mae ate,” Maggie said softly, turning around and giving the elderly woman a smile. But Wilma Mae was staring out the window in silence. She seemed oblivious to their conversation.

“Of course.” Candy glanced down at her watch again. It was nearly two twenty. She had to be back at the farm in less than ten minutes to meet Cinnamon Girl, alias Wanda, and they were still stuck in postparade traffic.

“So this mystery stew just happens to show up right in front of her? Doesn’t that sound awfully suspicious to you?”

“It does.”

Maggie leaned close and lowered her voice. “Do you think someone put it there on purpose, so Wilma Mae would see it?”

“That’s my guess.”

“But why?”

“I don’t know. That’s what I’m trying to figure out. I can’t see where there’s anything to be gained by it. Unless . . .” Candy’s voice trailed off as a sudden thought came to her.

“Unless what?”

Candy glanced back over her shoulder, then said in a whisper only Maggie could hear, “Unless someone wanted to get rid of Wilma Mae. Maybe someone didn’t want her judging the cook-off. And they figured the best way to disrupt things was to put that stew in front of her and create a ruckus.”

“I guess it worked, didn’t it?”

“It certainly did.”

The traffic thickened as the minutes ticked by all too quickly, and Candy soon realized there wasn’t enough time to take Maggie and Wilma Mae back to Maggie’s home in Fowler’s Corner and still make it to the farm by two thirty to catch Wanda.

So at the intersection of River Road, Candy flicked on her signal again and turned left instead of right. “I know you’re going to hate this,” she told Maggie, “but you’re going to have to indulge me on something.”

“What’s that? We’re not going home?”

“We’re going to Blueberry Acres. I have to meet someone at the farm at two thirty, and I’m late. So you’ll just have to come along for the ride, okay?”

“Well, sure, but . . . who are you meeting?”

Candy looked as apologetic as possible, as if she were delivering some really bad news. “It’s Wanda Boyle.”

Maggie’s shocked expression and silence told her everything she needed to know, but the situation couldn’t be helped.

Ten minutes later they turned into the long dirt driveway that led to the farm. As Candy drove toward the house, she spotted Wanda’s SUV parked in front of the barn.