SEVENTEEN

The next morning, Candy and Doc climbed into the Jeep Cherokee and headed up to Route 1, where they turned east toward the town of Machias, the county seat. The day was overcast, the remnants of the previous day’s storm still clinging stubbornly to the coast, which only added to their somber moods.

They were silent for most of the forty-minute drive, which took them through small settlements and past boulder-strewn blueberry fields ripe for the harvest. Candy kept the radio tuned to an AM news station, though they heard more static than news as the signal faded in and out. They were eager for the latest information about the investigation into Sapphire Vine’s murder, but there was nothing to be heard, which only made Candy more morose and Doc more restless.

The Washington County Sheriff’s Office was located on Court Street just off Machias’s main street, in a red brick building next to the Superior Court. They parked in the side visitor’s lot, checked in at the front desk, and at just after ten o’clock were shown into an empty room by a young, straight-backed, mustachioed officer named Wayne Safford. “You can wait for Ray in here,” he told them. “He’ll be right in.”

It was a small, windowless, cheerless room with a freshly waxed brown and white tile floor and walls painted a dull institutional beige. At its center was a narrow folding table surrounded by four metal folding chairs. A U.S. flag stood in one corner, next to a flag of the great State of Maine, with its moose and pine tree, farmer and seaman, set on a blue field under the North Star. There was no other furniture in the room-no pictures or photos on the walls, no one-way mirrors. The place smelled old yet efficient.

“Well,” Doc said as he dropped into one of the chairs with a grunt, “at least they let us in to see him. I thought they’d give us a hard time.”

Candy nodded her agreement and stood with her arms folded across her chest, hugging her shoulders. The air conditioning in the building must have been set on high, or perhaps it was all funneled into this small room. Feeling chilled, she wished she had brought a sweater with her. But who travels with a sweater when it’s eighty degrees outside?

She thought of sitting down beside Doc but realized she was too nervous for that, so she paced the perimeter of the room, looking for anything the least bit interesting to occupy her time, and failing miserably.

Fortunately, they didn’t have to wait too long. Sooner than she expected, the door swung open and Ray shuffled in, his head bowed low. He looked terrible. Even when he saw Candy and Doc, the most he could manage was the most pitiful smile she had ever seen. He sank heavily into a chair opposite Doc. His gaze dropped to the table and stayed there.

“I’ll be back in fifteen minutes,” Officer Safford said. He left, closing the door firmly behind him.

A loud click told them the door locked itself as it shut.

Doc tried to ignore that disconcerting fact. “Well, how ya doing, Ray?” he said in a lively tone that sounded much too forced. He managed a smile as he leaned closer to the handyman. “Are they treating you all right?”

Ray shrugged, a quick movement that showed defeat. He let out a long shuddering breath. “Oh, they been okay to me.” His bottom lip puffed out a little. He seemed to be fighting back tears.

Candy felt the despair, embarrassment, and confusion radiating off him in waves. “Are they feeding you, Ray?” she asked, looking worried. “Are you eating?”

Ray nodded, though he still stared at the tabletop. “I had donuts and flapjacks for breakfast. They even gave me some blueberry syrup. I been eatin’.”

Candy went to stand beside him, and she couldn’t help reaching out and placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Ray,” she said softly, “do you want to tell us what happened?”

That did it. The tear ducts opened, the emotions bubbled up, and he shook like a house in a hurricane. “I… I didn’t do it,” he stuttered between sobs. “I didn’t do that terrible thing they said I did.” He glanced up at Candy, a horrified look in his eyes. “How could they say I did it? They don’t know me. I could never do somethin’ terrible like that.”

“I know, Ray, I know,” Candy said sympathetically.

“We know you didn’t do it,” Doc added, “but what happened? How’d you get mixed up in this mess?”

“I don’t know, Doc, I just don’t know,” Ray wailed, shaking his head frenetically and dropping it into his open hands.

“Try to stay calm,” Candy told him, sinking into the chair beside him and looking at him intently. “Take a few deep breaths.”

He listened to her. He straightened and took a breath, then another, shaking with grief the whole time. That calmed him a bit, though the distress he felt was still evident on his face. “Why do they think I did it?” he asked finally, looking over at her, his eyes reddened.

Doc leaned forward in his chair, his hands clasped together on the tabletop. “Well, for one thing, Ray, they have witnesses who say they saw your truck at Sapphire’s house Monday night, right before she was murdered,” he explained as gently as possible.

Ray nodded as his lips trembled. “Yeah, that’s right. I was there all right. She left me a note. Said she wanted me to come over at nine thirty and help her fix something. It was late, but I went over there anyway, just like she said. But when I got there she got mad at me for some reason. She yelled at me and told me to go home. I didn’t know what to do. So I left. But I didn’t kill her.”

Candy exchanged a questioning glance with Doc. “Did you tell the police what you just told us?”

Ray nodded emphatically. “I told them-over and over I told them. But they won’t listen. They said I did it. They said they have evidence.”

“They do,” Doc said quietly. “They found your hammer at her house, next to her body.”

Candy watched Ray to see his reaction to this piece of information, and what she saw surprised her. His expression changed in an instant. He looked as though he had just been accused of the worst crime in the world-something far worse than murder, if that were possible. He started to wail in a high voice, a strange sound that reminded Candy of a wet kitten mewling pitifully.

“My… my hammer,” he said softly. “But how’d it get there?” He lost his composure then and broke down again, crying uncontrollably now.

Candy and Doc sat silently for a moment, feeling helpless. Neither of them knew what to say. They tried to comfort him, but this time it didn’t help. He just shook his head over and over and wouldn’t say anything else.

“Ray,” Doc said finally, trying to get the handyman to look at him. “Ray, do you have a lawyer yet? Have they appointed someone to help you?”

But Ray wouldn’t answer. The sobs finally lessened, but he sat crouched over, his hands around his knees, his shoulders hunched and arms tucked in at his sides, rocking back and forth. And then he started humming something.

Candy put her arm around his shoulders. “Listen, Ray,” she said, leaning close to him, “we’re going to help you any way we can. You hear that? Don’t you worry. We know you didn’t have anything to do with this. And we’re going to do everything we can to prove it. We’re going to get you out of here. That’s a promise.”

She didn’t realize until that moment that there were tears in her eyes. She wiped them away quickly with her fingertips. Doc reached across the table and handed her his handkerchief.

When Officer Safford finally unlocked the door and peered into the room, Ray was still sitting in that same position, rocking back and forth. Doc and Candy were standing quietly beside him. There was nothing more to say.

“Does he have an attorney?” Doc asked as Ray was coaxed to his feet.

Officer Safford nodded. “He’s got someone. And a county social worker has been assigned to him also. He’s in good hands.”

“What’s the lawyer’s name?” Candy asked.

“Big-time guy by the name of Cromwell. Down from Bangor.”

With that, Ray was led away, and Candy and Doc were left alone in an empty room.