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

I’ll get it over with. What about you? Where’re you headed?”
    “Back to the office.” Candy pointed at the Jeep with her thumb. “I have appointments this afternoon and I need to finish up some work. But on the way, I might stop at the house and check out our barn—see if I can remember the last time I saw that shovel. Maybe something will spark a memory. And I can check on the chickens.”
    With that, they parted. After a quick, reassuring hug, Doc climbed into the cab of his old pickup truck while Candy slid into the driver’s seat of the Jeep. He waved halfheartedly as he drove off. She followed him out to the main road and trailed him for a few miles, until they reached the turnoff that led northward toward Blueberry Acres. She made a left, while Doc continued straight on toward town.
    The blueberry fields behind the house and barn were at near peak. They’d start harvesting in another month or so, and they were beginning to put together their equipment and farm machinery. But in many ways this time period, from early to mid-spring, was the lull before the upcoming storm of activity. The blueberry season would last until mid-August, after which they’d turn their attention to the vegetable gardens, and later on into the fall they’d start mowing the blueberry fields. But for now all they needed was a little rain and plenty of sunshine to ripen the berries.
    Candy pulled up in front of the house and climbed out of the Jeep. The place was amazingly peaceful, though she could hear the chickens cackling in their coop behind the barn. The wind was still blowing from the northwest, a light breeze running down toward the sea, bringing with it the smell of the woods and the ripening berries.
    She checked her watch. It was nearly eleven thirty. She had to get moving.
    She spread some feed on the floor of the coop, checked for eggs, which she collected in a wire basket, and headed into the barn. Near the workbench was a well-supplied tool rack. A quick glance at their collection of lawn and garden tools revealed the typical hoes and rakes, shears and pruners, scythes and axes, trowels and post hole diggers. They also had a number of spades and shovels, including several snow shovels, a wide wood scoop, a short-handled digging shovel, and a wood-handled, squared-off garden spade. Then there was the new long-handled digging shovel they’d bought earlier in the year. Its blade was still shiny.
    Candy looked at the new shovel for several moments. When had they bought that? she wondered. Sometime in the early spring? Or was it during the winter?
    As her mind worked back over the past few months, she was surprised to hear the sound of a vehicle coming up the dirt lane. When she stepped out of the barn, she saw Doc’s old pickup truck pulling to a stop in front of the house. She watched as he shut off the engine, climbed out of the cab, spotted her, and ambled in her direction.
    “What are you doing back so soon?” Candy called to him across the driveway. “Did you get fingerprinted?”
    Doc scowled and waved a hand. “It’s a madhouse over there,” he called back, and as he drew nearer, he continued, “Phones ringing off the hook. Everyone rushing back and forth. They told me to come back later today—or tomorrow. Too busy, short-staffed. I’ll give them a call this afternoon and see when they want me to go in.”
    Candy nodded, and led the way back into the barn. “I was just looking over the tools,” she told him. “You remember that new shovel we bought a few months back? When did we pick that up at Gumm’s?”
    Doc knew the answer right away. “March Madness sale. Got it for twenty-five percent off.”
    “But why buy a new shovel when we had one exactly like it in the barn?”
    “You mean the one that’s currently lying next to Miles’s body?” Doc shrugged. “Because we needed it, I guess.”
    “But why? It’s the same style as the old one.”
    “Well, you can never have too many shovels,” Doc