Candy had to admit that she didn’t. “Haley’s performance was clearly the best.”

Mrs. Pruitt nodded approvingly.

“But if that’s true-and we both agree that it is,” Candy went on, thinking out loud, “and if it was as obvious to others in the audience, including the judges, as it is to you and me, then how did Sapphire win? Why wasn’t Haley crowned the Blueberry Queen?”

“An excellent question,” said Mrs. Pruitt. “You said you work for the newspaper. Perhaps you should investigate.”

“Perhaps I should,” Candy said thoughtfully. She leaned forward in her chair. “You don’t suppose…” she trailed off, thinking.

After a moment, Mrs. Pruitt prompted, “What, dear?” Candy let out a breath. She decided that she might as well say what was on her mind. “Well, you don’t suppose there was something… strange going on?”

“Bribery, you mean?”

“Bribery?” That wasn’t what Candy had been thinking, and it surprised her, though she seemed to recall Maggie saying something about bribery also. “Do you really think so?”

“Yes.”

“One of the judges?”

Mrs. Pruitt nodded.

Candy mulled that over. “I would have thought it would have been something a little less… conspiratorial. An error in scoring, perhaps.”

Mrs. Pruitt made a somewhat surprising noise through her nose. “If you believe that, you really are as naive as you look.”

I look naive? Candy thought sadly. And Sapphire thought I was lonely. I really must do something about my image…

“But if what you say is true,” Candy went on, “that someone was being bribed by Sapphire, then which of the judges was it?”

Mrs. Pruitt shrugged. “Probably all of them.”

Candy’s mouth nearly dropped open. “All of them?”

Mrs. Pruitt seemed annoyed by the question. “I wouldn’t put it past that Sapphire Vine woman. You saw her up there. You know what she’s like. She would have stopped at nothing to win that pageant.” Mrs. Pruitt leaned forward in her chair, and said emphatically, “Nothing.”

“But how?” Candy asked, clearly taken aback.

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out, dear. I’m sure you can follow the clues.”

That sparked another thought. “You don’t suppose there’s a link between her death and the fact that she won the Blueberry Queen Pageant, do you?”

“Well,” said Mrs. Pruitt evenly as she refreshed Candy’s cup of tea, “that’s the big question, isn’t it? So, tell me, how is your blueberry farm doing?”

Caught off guard by the sudden shift in the conversation, Candy answered quickly. “Oh, well, fine, just fine, thank you.”

“You know, my grandfather once owned that property…”

Some time later, with the interview complete, Candy thanked Mrs. Pruitt, who rose and showed her to the door. Hobbins, it appeared, was preoccupied.

As Candy was in the foyer about to leave, Haley Pruitt came dashing down the grand staircase, though she came to an abrupt stop when she saw her grandmother.

“Ah, here’s Haley now,” said Mrs. Pruitt, giving her granddaughter a disapproving look. To Haley, she said, “Candy Holliday stopped by to talk about the pageant, dear.”

“Isn’t it exciting?” Haley asked, crossing to her grandmother’s side. She practically bubbled. “I’m going to be the Blueberry Queen!”

“They’ve contacted you then?” Candy asked.

“We heard from the pageant committee this morning,” Mrs. Pruitt replied smugly. “There will be a short ceremony at Town Hall on Sunday morning.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll make a wonderful Blueberry Queen,” Candy said diplomatically. In a fleeting moment, she thought of asking Haley her thoughts about Sapphire’s death but decided that it might seem inappropriate at the moment. Instead, she thanked Mrs. Pruitt for seeing her and asked for permission to contact her should she have any further questions.

A few moments later she was ushered politely outside, and the heavy front door closed firmly behind her.

As she walked toward the Jeep, digging in her pocket for her keys, she turned and took one last look back at the manor. Its stucco-and-timber exterior was well maintained, and the multiple gables, overhanging upper stories, and tall brick chimneys gave the place an unmistakable medieval appearance.

She turned, her gaze wandering. A walkway that branched off led to a flowing fountain, and farther off to the right was a four-bay garage. Several of the garage doors were open. Candy could see the tail-end of the Bentley sitting in the cool shade of the garage, and also what looked like a Mercedes SUV.

Along the wall in the far-right bay was a long workbench, with a variety of toolboxes, an air pump, and other mechanical devices scattered across its surface.

I wonder, Candy thought.

She checked over her right shoulder, then her left. She made a complete about-face.

No one around. She was completely alone.

Trying to appear as inconspicuous as possible, she meandered along the walkway toward the garage, stopping and turning frequently, pretending to admire the estate and the grounds. As she got closer to the garage, she angled sharply toward the Bentley, deciding to use that as an excuse if anyone spotted her, but veered at the last moment into the far-right bay. Nervously she scanned the workbench, then flipped open the lids of a few toolboxes, searching inside.

No red-handled hammer.

Cameron had told Officer Martin that one of the hammers had been sold to the butler at Pruitt Manor-Hobbins.

If that was true, it had to be here somewhere. She had to check on it, just to satisfy her curiosity.

She opened a few drawers and scanned the shelves above the workbench but found nothing. She was just about to turn and leave when a voice behind her asked, “Can I help you?”

Candy spun, her heart nearly leaping out of her chest.

Standing at the entrance to the bay, and blocking her exit, was Hobbins.

He had removed his suit jacket and now wore a dark-green work apron. His starched shirtsleeves were rolled up to mid-forearm.

In his hand was a hammer. A red-handled hammer.

Candy was so surprised she stuttered and stammered, unable to get out any actual words. “I… I… um… uh…”

“Are you looking for something?” the butler asked suspiciously.

“No, I…uh, uh… I was, uh… I just wanted to look at your Bentley,” she finally managed to say in a rush.

“Oh.” Letting out a breath, Hobbins carelessly tossed the hammer onto the workbench and waved. “Well come on then. You can have a look at it.”

“Oh, um, good. Thank you very much.” Candy forced a smile.

“It’s a ninety-three Brooklands Saloon style, as you can see,” said Hobbins as he walked to the car. “All the standard amenities-alloy wheels, heated seats, wood trim, traction assist, dual horns. Six-point-seven-five-liter engine capacity. Black with gray interior. Handles like a dream…”

Five minutes later, still shaking a little after the unexpected encounter with the butler, Candy climbed gratefully into the Jeep, started the engine, and drove back down the gravel driveway.

“You have to stop doing this to yourself,” she muttered as she turned toward town.

But at the same time she sensed she was making some progress.

Possible bribery. Missing hammers-and a hammer that wasn’t missing. And was there a link between the pageant itself and Sapphire’s death?

It all would make for interesting conversation when she met with Maggie for lunch at Duffy’s.