Town In a Lobster Stew (39 page)

Candy gasped, suddenly angry. “You’ve been
using
him.”

“And setting him up,” Bob added, looking down at the fishing line.

“Of course I have.” Roger flashed his white teeth as his grin grew. “What are friends for?”

Candy couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “You betrayed him? But I thought—”

“What, that we were friends? That’s what he thinks. But we never were. He was a family friend of sorts, and I met him a few times in college. The rest is a fabrication I’ve nurtured over the years, hoping I could tap into it someday. And it looks like today is the day.”

“But why kill Charlotte?” Candy asked. “What did she ever do to you?”

Roger’s face turned dark again. “She went back on our deal, that’s why.”

“Because she realized you betrayed her too?”

Roger glared at her. “You’re smarter than you look. How did you figure that out?”

“Something Oliver told me earlier today. He said Charlotte was furious with him when she didn’t win the cook-off, and confronted him. She kept saying,
He promised, he promised
. She was referring to
you
, wasn’t she?
You
promised her she’d win that contest—and then you went back on your deal. You made sure she
lost
, even though she was using Mr. Sedley’s recipe.”

At that, Roger chuckled. “Well, yes, it’s true. I thought it’d be fun to play with her a little. You know the old saying: you can’t always get what you want.”

“You purposely dismissed that recipe—and you placed that bowl of stew in front of Wilma Mae too, didn’t you? Because you wanted to get rid of her. You didn’t want her campaigning for Mr. Sedley’s stew.”

“I admit, it was a last-minute decision,” Roger said. “I didn’t completely know what I’d be facing until I arrived at the inn that morning. But it seemed a little too troubling to have Charlotte using that old man’s recipe, and that old woman as a judge. I had to defuse the situation—so I improvised. Oliver helped. He told me the number of Charlotte’s stew. He said it had been compromised.” Roger shrugged. “It was easy.”

“So you got Wilma Mae out of the way, and you made sure someone other than Charlotte won.”

Roger gave her a sly smile. “From what I understand, I wasn’t the only one who was trying to influence the outcome of that contest. The entire judging process was tainted—as you probably know, I’m guessing.”

Candy indeed knew. She pressed on. “So why kill Charlotte? What did she threaten to do to you?”

“Oh, she made plenty of threats,” Roger said, his smile disappearing. “That woman could get her fur up when she was mad. She was incensed when she lost the contest. She threatened to destroy the ledger, so I’d never get it. She used it as leverage.”

“You made another deal with her, didn’t you?” Candy surmised. “What did you offer her?”

Roger let out a grunt. “What she wanted.”

“And what was that?” Candy asked.

“She wanted to get out of this two-bit town, if you must know. She wanted a more prestigious job, possibly at some museum in Boston or New York. I told her I had a few connections, I’d pull a few strings for her. And, of course, I offered her more money.”

“And the handover was supposed to take place at that picnic area up along the English River, wasn’t it?”

“She was supposed to have the ledger with her,” Roger confirmed, “but of course she didn’t. She said she’d hidden it away where I’d never find it. She said she wanted double the amount we agreed on. Apparently she’d read through the ledger and knew what was in it.”

“So you killed her,” Bob cut in, his face twisting in anger.

“I’d just left Ben’s place. I didn’t bring my fishing gear with me on the trip up here, so I borrowed some from him. I had it in the trunk. And I’d stuck the fishing line in my pocket, just in case I had to use it. Turns out it was a little messier than I thought. Good thing I was wearing gloves.”

“And for what? That damned ledger?” Bob asked incredulously. He inched forward. It was clear he was having thoughts of rushing Roger, maybe trying to overtake him. But Roger waved the gun at him.

“Stay right where you are. And yes, because of the ledger. Charlotte was the one who brought it to our attention, you know. I only found out about it recently. She said she’d heard rumors about what was in it—and I’m not talking about the recipe. Apparently Old Man Sedley let a few secrets slip when he was volunteering around this place.”

“Like what?” Candy asked, unable to contain herself. “What’s in that ledger that’s worth murdering someone?”

“If you must know,” Roger said, his gaze narrowing on her, “Sedley wrote down a few things back in the forties that are very important to my family. But that’s all you need to know for now. I met with Charlotte a few weeks ago, and we put our plan together. I agreed to fund the operation—and I helped her out by driving a willing participant her way.”

“Robbie!” Bob burst out, suddenly seething. “You tricked my son!”

Roger turned toward him, regarding him as if he were a bellboy at a hotel. “He was very helpful,” Roger confirmed. “He played right into our hands—no pun intended.”

“So you brought a ringer into one of your games to clean out Robbie, and then what?” Candy asked.

“Then we waited. It was only a matter of time. Eventually, we figured, Robbie would tell Bob—”

“And Bob would tell someone around the museum, and eventually Charlotte would get involved and make him an offer,” Candy finished.

“Now we’re getting to it,” Roger said, sounding very pleased with himself. “It was all too easy. But in the end, it wasn’t easy, was it?” He looked at Bob. “You fell for it right away, just like you were supposed to, didn’t you, Bob? Just like we’d planned. You were supposed to steal that ledger for us, get the money for your son, which of course came right back to me, and then go away. But you had second thoughts. And look what happened. Two people died.”

“You can’t pin this on me, Sykes,” Bob said.

“Oh, but I can. And I will. It took me a while to figure it out myself, but there’s a perfect way to do it.” He pointed toward the fishing line. “The evidence is right there. And it’s in your shed, Bob. The police will surmise you took the fishing line from Ben, or maybe not. I’m sure you have other rolls of fishing line around here. It doesn’t matter. The point is, you had every reason to kill Charlotte—and James Sedley. You had a motive to do what Charlotte wanted, and then you put her out of her misery. Or, at least, that’s what the police will think. You did it because of the money and your son’s gambling debts. Didn’t you, Bob?”

The maintenance man could barely contain his anger. “You know I didn’t.”

“It’s only fitting, you know,” Roger continued, “since if you had just done your job the way you were supposed to and stolen that recipe yourself, Old Man Sedley and Charlotte might both still be alive. But somehow she screwed up the theft—veered from the plan, entered on the wrong side of the building or something stupid like that. And she got caught. And . . . well, we all know the rest, don’t we?”

“You can’t blame this on anyone but yourself,” Candy said.

Roger turned back to look at her. “It doesn’t really matter anymore, does it? What’s done is done. Now it’s just a matter of cleaning up some loose ends.”

“Like us?” Bob asked.

“Like you,” Roger confirmed. “It’s fairly simple from here.” He looked back out over his shoulder. “We’re headed to the tower, Bob. You’ve got the keys, right?”

What happened next was so surreal Candy found herself barely believing it. After a quick look around the area to make sure they were alone, Roger marched them to the Keeper’s Quarters, but first he told Bob to lock up the maintenance shed. “We don’t want anyone getting suspicious about doors that are open when they shouldn’t be, right, Bob?”

He held the gun on them as Bob unlocked the door to the Keeper’s Quarters and relocked it once they were inside. “We don’t want any interruptions, do we?” Roger said mockingly.

The museum’s main display area was dimly lit, and Candy thought if they had any chance of rushing Roger, it would be now. She tried to catch Bob’s eye, but he looked too stunned to be of any help. Candy twisted her head, ready to spring—but Roger was watching her, with the gun aimed toward her.

“Keep moving,” he said, making sure he stayed several paces behind them. “That way.” He pointed with the gun toward the hallway behind the wooden counter, and the locked door that led to the tower. “We’ll need your keys one more time,” Roger said.

Bob looked at him, a worried expression on his face. “We shouldn’t be going up there. Visibility’s not very good and—”

“We’re not going up there to sightsee, Bob. Open the door.”

For a few moments, Candy thought Bob might make a move. But this was no Bruce Willis movie. They weren’t heroes or movie stars. They were just a couple of folks from a small town in Maine, trying to stay alive.

Bob opened the door.

“Hold on just a moment,” Roger said from behind them. When Candy turned, she saw Roger standing by the long counter. He had the ledger open and was flipping back through it, his eyes searching. He soon found what he was looking for, tore out several pages, and read through them, scanning the lines James Sedley had written decades ago. When he had finished, he folded the pages over and tucked them into a jacket pocket.

He tossed the ledger onto the counter. “Okay, let’s get going.”

Candy had never been in the tower before, and it was thrilling in more ways than one. It was dark and silent inside, a great echoing cone looming above them. Underneath her feet was a black and white tile floor, worn with age but well kept. A glass-enclosed sign attached to a gray-painted wall informed her that nearly a million bricks had been used to build the tower. On her left were the first steps of an iron staircase, painted black and ornately decorated, twisting upward.

Her head craned back. It was like looking at the inside of a spiraling seashell, only this was one she could stand in.

“Up,” Roger instructed.

“But it’s dark up there. We’ll trip on the steps.”

“Up!” Roger ordered again, this time in a threatening tone.

Bob held up a hand. “Wait.” He crossed the tower’s circular floor to the opposite wall and moved toward a panel hidden under the staircase. Roger called out to him, brandishing the gun, but Bob just pointed toward the panel. “Lights,” he said.

Roger seemed to finally understand. He nodded curtly. Bob opened up the panel cover and flipped several switches.

The tower’s inside was suddenly illuminated, glowing with a soft yellow color, looking much as it must have a hundred years earlier, when the lightkeepers in their dark blue wool uniforms climbed these steps with gas lanterns in their hands.

As Bob came around the foot of the steps, he let out a long breath. “There are one hundred and seventy-four steps to the top, just so you know. Six landings—twenty-nine steps in each section.” And he started up.

Candy followed.

She held tightly to the railing as she climbed the thick metal stairs, which were bolted to a winding frame. They reached the first landing and continued on, moving steadily upward. As she climbed, Candy found herself growing a little dizzy, and her thighs started to feel the stress.
I bet those old lightkeepers never needed to head to the gym
, she thought idly. This was enough of a workout to keep anyone in shape.

At the third landing, they saw a small alcove, where a tall, narrow window looked out over the ocean. On a clear day, she imagined, the view from here would be magnificent. But today she stared out at a patchy seascape of mostly gray colors, although spots of blues and whites peeked through.

“Keep moving,” Roger said, standing several steps behind her.

She nodded and started up again.

She could hear Bob wheezing above her now, and even Roger was breathing heavily. Candy tried as best she could to control her own breathing. She didn’t want to become too winded or light-headed. She might need her wits once they reached the top.

On the fifth landing, Bob stopped to catch his breath, and Candy came up behind him, laying a hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

He glanced back at her and nodded. “I climb this tower a dozen times a month. I’m used to it.”

“Enough talking,” Roger said, coming up behind them. “Get going.”

At the sixth landing, Candy saw several old waist-high wooden cabinets with locks on them. “This is the service landing,” Bob told her. “This is where the old lightkeepers used to keep their log books, as well as tools and mineral oil when the light was still an actual flame. They used to haul up the five-gallon cans of oil using a pulley system.” He pointed at the ceiling, where Candy saw a large iron hook. “The light’s right above our heads,” Bob said, nodding at the ceiling. With his head he indicated a nearby hatch in the circular wall. “And that’s the way out onto the watch deck.”