Read Town in a Strawberry Swirl (Candy Holliday Mystery) for Free Online

full force for the Fourth of July. We don’t need any trouble in town right now.”
    So Candy found herself being pulled in both directions, while fighting deadlines and doing her best to get ready for the harvest out at Blueberry Acres, which would start in earnest in about a month. That’s why she’d stopped in at the Black Forest Bakery for a cup of tea and a quick sit-down with Maggie. She’d needed a few moment’s respite from the hectic pace of the busy season.
    Unfortunately, those moments had been fleeting.
    Her thoughts angled back to the meetings. They were certainly important. But by the time she reached the Jeep and climbed inside, she’d decided to cancel both.
    She dropped her tote bag onto the passenger seat and pulled her phone out of the back pocket of her jeans. She swiped and poked at the screen, calling up her contacts, searching for Mason Flint’s number. But before she made the call, she hesitated.
    Was she overreacting? Maybe Maggie and Herr Georg were right about the alleged death of Miles Crawford. Maybe it really was just a false report, or a case of mistaken identity, or simply a hoax or a prank of some sort. Maybe Doc was being misled. Or maybe, if Miles really was dead, it hadn’t been murder at all, but a farm accident of some sort. Maybe he’d even died of natural causes. He couldn’t be more than sixty years old, but unfortunately those things happened all the time. It would be tragic, yes, but it wouldn’t be as earth-shattering as a murder.
    Perhaps she should wait, and find out what really happened before she stirred things up more than they already were. Better to learn the facts first, rather than jumping to conclusions.
    She reconsidered her decision about the meetings. She’d already delayed the meeting with the league members once, last week, citing deadline issues. If she called off the meeting today, she knew it would cause trouble. Same thing with Mason Flint. Although genteel on the surface, he could be tenacious when he wanted something. He wouldn’t let her easily escape a meeting about something that mattered to him, especially if the town was involved.
    Without making any calls, she keyed off her phone, dropped it onto the seat beside her, and started the engine. Glancing over her shoulder, she backed out of her parking spot and headed south on Main Street. Traffic was congested in Cape Willington’s small downtown, and it took her a few minutes to reach the red light at the southern end of the street. She waited in line with other vehicles before making a right-hand turn onto the Coastal Loop, hoping for the best but prepared for the worst as she headed out toward Crawford’s Berry Farm.

FOUR

    Leaving the village behind, Candy joined a stream of cars that followed the narrow two-lane road as it meandered along the coastline, winding past beach cabins, gray-sided bungalows, an occasional barn, and a few old open-mouthed garages that stored ancient lawn furniture and unused croquet sets, garden hoses, and old car parts. The road curved around a shallow inlet and dipped through a low spot beside the ocean before rising through a stand of thin pines and coastal shrubbery, still showing some of its spring green, though the color would wash out to a dull gray-green by midsummer.
    In short order most of the cars in front of her slowed and pulled into dusty dirt driveways, or angled off onto side lanes, so that by the time she reached the turnoff on the right that led to Blueberry Acres, she had the road mostly to herself. Rather than head toward home, she continued straight ahead, along the coast, as she checked her watch again and nudged up the needle on the speedometer, though it was hard to get any vehicle much above forty or fifty miles an hour on these back rural roads.
    The morning was surprisingly bright and clear. Spring in Maine was a tenuous thing, or so Doc had told her on numerous occasions. At times it played havoc with the crops. April could often be