Free Town in a Strawberry Swirl (Candy Holliday Mystery) by B.B. Haywood

certainly hope not!” Doc said, trying not to sound indignant.
    “So if you
had
killed Miles, would you be dumb enough to call the police right away after the deed, without tidying up first, and then leave the murder weapon there at the scene of the crime for the police to find?”
    “Of course not,” Doc said, seeing her point. “At the very least I would have ditched that shovel in an out-of-the-way corner or tossed it outside the building—anywhere out of sight. But I think I have something even more concrete working in my favor.”
    “And what’s that?” his daughter asked.
    “The state of Miles’s body.”
    It took Candy a moment to realize what he was saying. She crossed her arms and looked at him with renewed interest. “You have an idea about the time of death?”
    “Not specifically,” Doc admitted, “but I overheard one of the paramedics talking to Chief Durr. She said the body had already cooled a couple of degrees, and he was turning pale when I found him. According to some of those forensics shows we’ve been watching, that means he’d been dead for at least an hour, maybe two. At least, that’s my guess.”
    “Right.” Candy took a deep breath, nodded, and went on. “So based on the state of the body, the fact that the killer couldn’t have known you were going to show up when you did, and the unlikelihood of either of us actually committing the murder ourselves, we have to assume that we’re not the targets here.”
    Doc looked impressed at his daughter’s grasp of the situation. “Okay. So what’s all that mean?”
    “It means the shovel was left there on purpose, not to implicate us, but
someone else
.”
    “Who?”
    “That’s what we’ve got to figure out.”
    “How are we going to do that?”
    “I don’t know yet.”
    “Well, we’d better come up with something fast,” Doc said, “before the police actually
do
find a reason to throw us both into jail. It was
our
shovel, after all. Darnedest thing, isn’t it?” He shook his head, and it was clear the events of the morning were puzzling him. “What about Lydia St. Graves? You think she might be involved in this?”
    Candy was looking out at the sea again. A light breeze had picked up, and the treetops around them rustled. “Possibly. I have no way of knowing for certain, but her behavior was certainly suspicious.”
    “Well, given the rumors flying around town, I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s involved in this whole thing somehow. In fact, I’d almost bet money on it, if I were a betting man.” He paused. “You think she could have . . . well, you know, killed Miles herself with that shovel? Is she capable of such a thing?”
    Candy gave it some thought. “Again, I suppose it’s possible. I just don’t know her that well, but she’s obviously a frail-looking woman. I’m not sure she’d have the strength to lift a shovel, let alone hit a man over the head hard enough to kill him. So for the moment I’m trying not to jump to conclusions. Besides, maybe we’re both overthinking this. Maybe by leaving the shovel here, the killer meant simply to muddy the waters for a while—you know, confuse the police, send them off on a wild-goose chase.”
    “Like interviewing every person on that list we just compiled?” Doc let out a snort of air. “You and I both know none of those folks had anything to do with this.”
    “I hope you’re right, Dad,” Candy said softly.
    “So what’s our next move?”
    “I think,” Candy said, turning back to look at her father, “that you should head over to the police station and get yourself fingerprinted.”
    “I’d rather have my teeth pulled out,” Doc said honestly. “Just the idea of it bothers me. To think I could ever do something like that to someone like Miles.”
    “I know, Dad, but it’s just a formality. And it might help the police find the killer.”
    Doc seemed resigned to his fate. “Very well,” he said, sounding a bit antagonistic, “guess