ELEVEN

Candy awoke suddenly in the middle of the night. For a few moments she lay in the darkness as a warm breeze blew over her, trying to figure out what had pulled her so quickly out of deep sleep.

And then she heard it-the chickens were in a frenzy, squawking madly out in their coop about something.

She jumped out of bed, pulled on a bathrobe, and carefully made her way down the dark staircase. Doc kept a flashlight on the windowsill by the back door, for emergencies. Candy grabbed it, slipped into a pair of sandals, and headed out into the night, flicking on the flashlight as she went.

A three-quarter moon cast a faint glow on the landscape, giving it a ghostly appearance. Trying to ignore the creepy feeling that edged up her back, she hurried toward the barn and skirted around the side of it. As she approached the coop behind the barn, she could hear the chickens squawking in terror.

She stopped about ten feet away and shined the flashlight back and forth. Most of the girls were in a frenzy, their underfeathers flying everywhere, but a few still sat up in their roosts, their necks pulled way down into the feathers, clearly frightened out of their wits. Something had spooked them-but what?

Flicking the flashlight about, Candy searched the shadows around the coop while at the same time looking around for a weapon. This was a rural area, and there could be any number of critters about. If she had to tangle with anything too dangerous, she didn’t want to do it bare-handed. She wished she had remembered to pull Doc’s shotgun from the broom closet in the kitchen.

And then she saw it-an animal about the size of a small dog pawing at the chicken wire on the back side, trying to break into the coop.

“Hey! Get out of there!” Candy shouted suddenly, her voice breaking sharp in the night. She moved to her left, bent and scooped up a handful of stones, and flung them at the critter. It shied away when it saw her, its eyes luminescent in the flashlight’s beam, watching her intently to see what she was going to do next.

She picked up a good-sized rock and threw it at the animal-a fairly large fox, she saw now. “Leave them alone! Git!”

She picked up a large stick and started toward the creature, but before she had taken even a few steps it turned suddenly and slunk away, seeming to simply disappear into the high grass and shadows that edged the blueberry field behind the barn.

“What’s wrong?” came a voice behind her.

Candy jumped at the voice and twisted about. Doc was coming toward her wearing only a T-shirt and boxer shorts. His shotgun was tucked under one arm.

She held a hand to her rapidly beating heart. “A fox, trying to get at the girls.”

Doc squinted into the darkness. “Did you chase it away?”

“Yeah, it’s gone, I think.”

“Damn critters. Are the girls okay?”

Candy walked toward the coop, shining the flashlight inside. The chickens were still clucking loudly, still frightened, though they were starting to calm down.

“They seem all right. Just scared as hell.” She walked around the coop to where the fox had been pawing at it and bent to inspect the chicken wire. “Damn thing almost got in, though. I’m gonna have to fix this in the morning. We got any chicken wire left?”

Doc shook his head as he leaned the shotgun against the barn. “I don’t think so. I’ll tie a piece of plywood up against it for tonight. That’ll help temporarily, but we’ll have to stop by the hardware store in the morning.”

Doc helped her patch up the coop as best they could, then they both went back to bed. But Candy found she couldn’t fall asleep again, no matter how hard she tried. She turned and tossed for an hour or so and finally gave up. At first light she climbed out of bed, feeling tired and cranky. She put on the coffee, checked the girls again, and decided she might as well start baking pies to take into town later in the day.

She knew her arrangement with Melody wouldn’t make her a lot of money, but every penny would help. It seemed that scraping around for money had become a way of life for her and Doc. She had made good money down in Boston, true, and had lived quite comfortably until Clark, her ex-husband, lost his job. As their marriage unraveled, they had to live on her paycheck, which made their finances tight, but they still had their savings-until Clark squandered most of that on his start-up tech company. When they divorced, they sold the house, but after paying off an equity loan, they weren’t left with much. They split it up, and Candy used some of the money to make a few repairs around Blueberry Acres when she moved in with Doc. The place had needed a new roof, and they’d done some remodeling work inside, tearing out old carpet and putting in new wood floors. She’d also had to buy a new fridge and dishwasher when the old ones went out. The rest of the money she still had in a savings account at a bank in Bangor, but she was hesitant to touch it, thinking some day she might buy a place of her own.

For now they lived off Doc’s Social Security and his retirement money from the university, from the twenty or thirty thousand they made every year selling blueberries, and from the odd jobs Candy did around town. For the most part they lived comfortably enough, until unexpected bills started to pile up or when something special was needed. There were days, when the checking account was near empty, that she considered heading up to Bangor or down to Portland to try to get back into a marketing firm. But every time she considered that option she quickly put it aside. Such a job, she knew, would bring back too many memories of her earlier life, and she resolved again to try to make her current situation work.

So she was grateful for any extra income-even if it meant making a few extra dollars a week by baking pies for Melody’s Café.

Several hours later she pulled the last two pies out of the oven, set them on the counter to cool, walked out onto the porch to rest for a moment, and promptly fell asleep in a chaise lounge. The ringing phone woke her.

Maggie was on the other end of the line. She sounded frantic. “Are you watching TV?”

“No, I’m… I’m baking,” Candy answered, still feeling groggy. “Why?”

“Turn it on. Now. Channel seven. I’ll call you right back.” She hung up.

Candy glanced up at the clock. It was just after noon. Had she slept that long?

She yawned, poured herself a cup of lukewarm coffee, and flicked on the small TV set in the corner of the kitchen counter. As the sound and picture came on, she heard the news announcer speaking, starting in midsentence.

“… just after ten thirty this morning. The body was apparently discovered by a neighbor, who called the police. The victim has been identified as thirty-seven-year-old Sapphire Vine, who…”

Candy gasped. Her hand flew to her mouth as she watched the image of a stretcher being wheeled out of the front door of a Victorian house. The body lying on the stretcher was draped in a white sheet.

“… was crowned as Cape Willington ’s Blueberry Queen just this past Saturday night. According to observers, Ms. Vine’s appearance in the annual pageant was somewhat controversial, since contestants are usually limited to girls of high school age.”

A homemade video of Sapphire dressed as a blueberry and reciting her poem appeared on screen. It was soon replaced by more shots of the ambulance and police cars.

The announcer continued. “Sources tell us that Ms. Vine was a columnist for the local newspaper and was a respected resident of the town. According to Cape Willington Chief of Police Daryl Durr, the death is being treated as a homicide, and police say they have arrested a suspect. He is identified as Ray Hutchins, a local handyman. An investigation is underway. We’ll keep you posted on further developments. Now for a check on the local weather, we’ll turn to our own Kimberly Frank, who tells us that it’s going to turn stormy…”