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

place—shot past her in a blur and a swoosh of sound.
    Candy had the driver’s side window open halfway and could feel the cone of air pushed aside by the speeding vehicle. It rushed through the opening and tossed around her hair. She might have made some sort of sound, a yelp maybe, but she wasn’t quite sure. Maybe the sound had come from somewhere else—the Jeep or the other vehicle as it roared past.
    Candy kept her gaze focused straight ahead as the Jeep slowed, but from the corner of her eye she caught a glimpse of the person behind the wheel of the silver sports car. An image flashed in Candy’s mind and seemed to freeze there for a few moments: a wraith-thin woman with bleach-blonde hair, dressed all in black, bejeweled fingers gripping the black leather-wrapped steering wheel, bright red lipstick against a smooth, pale face, partially hidden behind huge silver-rimmed sunglasses.
    Then the image was gone in a wisp of colors, and the silver convertible was gone too, disappearing behind her in a ricochet of sound. A moment later the vehicle reappeared in a smaller version in Candy’s rearview mirror, but it quickly shrank into the gray distance.
    With a spray of dirt and pebbles, the Jeep came to an abrupt stop on the rough shoulder of the road. Candy allowed herself to be thrown forward a little in the seat belt before pulling herself back. She started breathing again, not realizing she had stopped.
    She shook her head in disbelief. Her ears were ringing from the shock of the close call. She took a few more breaths to calm herself, fingers still clutched tightly on the steering wheel. She noticed that her knuckles had turned bone white.
    She forced herself to loosen her grip and, after a few more moments, put one hand on her chest. She could feel her strongly beating heart.
    Finally she turned around and looked back over her shoulder.
    There was no sign of the silver convertible that had literally run her off the road. Just empty asphalt and a dissipating cloud of dust caught in the sunlight, drifting off with the sea breeze.
    Candy turned back in the other direction, forward again, focusing in the side lane just ahead, from which the silver sports car had burst seconds earlier.
    A small red-and-white sign stood out amid the foliage by the side of the road. It was attached to a stake planted deeply into the ground. A red arrow pointed to the right. Above the arrow she read the words, CRAWFORD’S BERRY FARM—TURN HERE .
    Candy’s brow tightened as her gaze angled to the right, in the direction of the berry farm. She shook her head.
    Why would someone come speeding out of that road?
    But there was more. She had not only recognized the driver, but glimpsed the license plate, a Maine personalized plate that read
LSG1
.
    Candy had seen it before—and she’d seen the silver sports car before too. It was a BMW. The black cloth convertible top had been up and the windows slightly tinted, but there was no mistaking the wraithlike woman behind the steering wheel. She was a well-known local businesswoman, a real estate agent rumored to be involved in the secret real estate deal involving Crawford’s Berry Farm.
    “Lydia St. Graves,” Candy heard herself mutter into the sudden silence.

FIVE

    She found Doc sitting inside a police cruiser, talking to Officer Molly Prospect of the Cape Willington Police Department, who was taking his statement. The passenger side door was open, so Candy went to her father, leaned over, and gave him a quick hug.
    “Dad, are you okay?” she asked, crouching beside the car so she could get a better look at him.
    He turned toward her with watery eyes and a weak smile. “Hello, pumpkin. And yup, I’m fine.” He reached up and patted her hand. His smile disappeared quickly. “Miles isn’t doing so well, though. I seem to have stumbled across his body, much to my surprise—and his as well, I imagine. Never had anything like that happen to me before—or him either, I