Town in a Strawberry Swirl (Candy Holliday Mystery) by B.B. Haywood Page B
Authors: B.B. Haywood
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The lane continued on a little farther to the river.
No car was parked in front of the cabin— Judicious didn’t own one, as far as Candy knew. On nice days he sometimes rode a bike, but mostly he walked, following a trail that wound along the river, past other small cabins and fish camps. It eventually ended near the River Road bridge and boat docks, where Ray Hutchins was currently working.
Judicious came into town once or twice a week, when he needed something from the general store or wanted to attend an event. He was always at the Town Hall meetings every March, and usually made appearances at the community’s frequent festivals, cook-offs, bashes, and fairs—though most times he hovered around the edges of the activities, preferring to keep a low profile and rarely taking a central part in them.
Candy parked in front of the cabin and they both got out. This time Candy walked up on the porch and knocked, while Doc surveyed the territory. It was mostly natural landscape. No flower or vegetable gardens that Doc could see. Just trees and shrubbery, mostly pines and undergrowth. The cabin sat on a slight rise, putting it above the river’s floodplain. A screen of trees on the north side probably did a good job sheltering it from the fiercest winds in the winter, while a cleared area to the south and west allowed some sunlight through the canopy. Several paths led off into the woods in various directions, many in the general direction of the river. Doc noticed a couple of fishing rods leaned up against one side of the cabin. And he spotted an area of disturbed earth nearby, where it looked as if a few tree stumps had been removed.
A few minutes later Candy was back down beside her father. “No answer,” she said.
Doc glanced around, narrowing his gaze. “Maybe he’s gone into town.” He pointed toward the river. “Let’s check over that way.”
They walked rather than drove, since it was just a short distance to the riverbank. After little more than two dozen paces, the woods fell behind them and the landscape opened to give them good views both upstream and down. The English River flowed from left to right, zigzagging between rocky banks and a grassy, wildflower-strewn stretch before curving around a dogleg farther along and disappearing from view as it made its way toward the village and the sea beyond. To their left, they could see a fairly long distance upstream, until the river curved farther up as well. Silently they studied both directions for several moments, turning one way, then the other, then back, scanning the banks and the surrounding woods and fields. But they saw no one.
Doc let out a sigh and slid his hands into his back pockets. “Well, I suppose we could search the woods,” he said, “though I’d hate to get lost, and I have no idea which direction he might have—”
“Hullo!” a voice called suddenly from behind them.
They both turned.
A figure was walking along the dirt lane toward them, waving a hand in the air. He was tall and lanky, with long dark hair, wearing a wide-brimmed straw hat that shadowed his face, a loose-fitting shirt, dark pants, and black rubber boots. In one hand he carried a thick walking stick made from a tree branch. Across his chest was a tan canvas strap attached to a bag that hung at his hip.
Candy waved back. “Hi, Judicious.”
“Afternoon,” Doc called.
“This is a surprise,” Judicious said with an easy smile as he approached them. He stopped close by and planted the bottom of the walking stick on the rock-strewn riverbank, clasping it near the top with both hands. “It’s good to see the both of you. You’re looking well,” he said.
“It’s good to see you also, Judicious,” Candy said. “It’s been a while.”
“It has. I’ve been around,” he said, “but with the arrival of spring there’s just so much to do in the woods.” He patted the bag at his hip, which looked full. “Today I’ve been out mushroom hunting. The
No car was parked in front of the cabin— Judicious didn’t own one, as far as Candy knew. On nice days he sometimes rode a bike, but mostly he walked, following a trail that wound along the river, past other small cabins and fish camps. It eventually ended near the River Road bridge and boat docks, where Ray Hutchins was currently working.
Judicious came into town once or twice a week, when he needed something from the general store or wanted to attend an event. He was always at the Town Hall meetings every March, and usually made appearances at the community’s frequent festivals, cook-offs, bashes, and fairs—though most times he hovered around the edges of the activities, preferring to keep a low profile and rarely taking a central part in them.
Candy parked in front of the cabin and they both got out. This time Candy walked up on the porch and knocked, while Doc surveyed the territory. It was mostly natural landscape. No flower or vegetable gardens that Doc could see. Just trees and shrubbery, mostly pines and undergrowth. The cabin sat on a slight rise, putting it above the river’s floodplain. A screen of trees on the north side probably did a good job sheltering it from the fiercest winds in the winter, while a cleared area to the south and west allowed some sunlight through the canopy. Several paths led off into the woods in various directions, many in the general direction of the river. Doc noticed a couple of fishing rods leaned up against one side of the cabin. And he spotted an area of disturbed earth nearby, where it looked as if a few tree stumps had been removed.
A few minutes later Candy was back down beside her father. “No answer,” she said.
Doc glanced around, narrowing his gaze. “Maybe he’s gone into town.” He pointed toward the river. “Let’s check over that way.”
They walked rather than drove, since it was just a short distance to the riverbank. After little more than two dozen paces, the woods fell behind them and the landscape opened to give them good views both upstream and down. The English River flowed from left to right, zigzagging between rocky banks and a grassy, wildflower-strewn stretch before curving around a dogleg farther along and disappearing from view as it made its way toward the village and the sea beyond. To their left, they could see a fairly long distance upstream, until the river curved farther up as well. Silently they studied both directions for several moments, turning one way, then the other, then back, scanning the banks and the surrounding woods and fields. But they saw no one.
Doc let out a sigh and slid his hands into his back pockets. “Well, I suppose we could search the woods,” he said, “though I’d hate to get lost, and I have no idea which direction he might have—”
“Hullo!” a voice called suddenly from behind them.
They both turned.
A figure was walking along the dirt lane toward them, waving a hand in the air. He was tall and lanky, with long dark hair, wearing a wide-brimmed straw hat that shadowed his face, a loose-fitting shirt, dark pants, and black rubber boots. In one hand he carried a thick walking stick made from a tree branch. Across his chest was a tan canvas strap attached to a bag that hung at his hip.
Candy waved back. “Hi, Judicious.”
“Afternoon,” Doc called.
“This is a surprise,” Judicious said with an easy smile as he approached them. He stopped close by and planted the bottom of the walking stick on the rock-strewn riverbank, clasping it near the top with both hands. “It’s good to see the both of you. You’re looking well,” he said.
“It’s good to see you also, Judicious,” Candy said. “It’s been a while.”
“It has. I’ve been around,” he said, “but with the arrival of spring there’s just so much to do in the woods.” He patted the bag at his hip, which looked full. “Today I’ve been out mushroom hunting. The
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