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

warm—into the seventies or even eighties—causing plants to send out early shoots and buds, cautiously testing the weather. But May could easily turn cold and rainy, and the overcast days could carry on for weeks without a break. The sun would disappear from the sky and the crops would become dormant, caught mid-bud, awaiting the return of spring warmth, which never quite seemed to arrive. Cabin fever often set in. If they were lucky, spring would finally show up around Memorial Day, when they’d dip their toes into the cold ocean water for a few moments to officially welcome the season.
    Weather like that made her appreciate days like this even more. For the past week or two they’d had mostly warm sunny days, cool nights, and a reasonable amount of rain, often at night—good for growing berries. The fields out at Blueberry Acres were ripening nicely, and they’d have a good crop this year, which they needed.
    Miles had obviously had a similar good year out at the berry farm, from reports she’d heard. She’d been so busy over the past few weeks, she hadn’t had a chance to stop by to chat with him yet, though it had been on her agenda for a while. She’d just never managed to get around to it. Now she regretted not taking the time to visit him.
    But she also knew the real reason she’d continually postponed her visits. Miles was a true, no-nonsense Mainer, and could be a tough nut to crack when he wanted to be. Under the bill of a faded orange ball cap with an agricultural logo on it, his weathered face was usually placid and unreadable, and he excelled at using short sentences that consisted primarily of words such as
yup
and
nope
and an occasional
ayuh
thrown in just for the fun of it. You had to patiently tap at that crusty Maine veneer and phrase your questions properly to communicate with him in any real way.
    Candy was used to dealing with stoic farmers like Miles. She ran into a lot of them, being a farmer herself, though she was still relatively new to the vocation. The best way to deal with them, she’d discovered, was simply to match her own cadence to theirs, give them some space, and wait them out. Eventually they’d reward you with a few golden nuggets of information. It just took time and patience.
    But those two commodities had been in short supply lately, as her life grew increasingly busy owing to her work at the paper, so she’d never managed to swing by the berry farm to exchange pleasantries with Miles. Now she was finally visiting him—but not under the conditions she ever thought possible. . . .
    Shocked back to the moment, she saw the oncoming car seconds before it was about to hit her. It came screeching out of a turnoff just ahead on the right, its tail end spinning around as it twisted in her direction. It came right at her, straddling the center of the road, rocking back and forth a little on its springs as it settled into the road. Gaining speed, it hurtled toward her with no signs of slowing.
    Candy felt every nerve and cell erupt inside her. Her survival instincts took over as she yanked the steering wheel to the right and jammed both feet onto the brake pedal.
    The Jeep rattled and the brakes squealed as the tires bit and the right side dropped off the asphalt. The Jeep bounced up and then thumped down viciously before coming back up again, tossing her hard against the seat belt. She tightened her grip on the steering wheel as the tires jounced around and the vehicle fully left the road, dropping down onto the narrow shoulder. The front wheels caught a rut and tried to pull her into the trees on her right, but she instinctively turned the steering wheel in the other direction. The back tires would have slid out from underneath her had it not been for the vehicle’s four-wheel-drive system, which gave her the grip she needed. It kept her going in the right direction as the oncoming car—a low-slung silver sports car with a black convertible top, which was up and in