The operation was performed efficiently and with minimal disruption. Most of the guests inside at the ball never knew what was happening; since the ballroom’s windows faced out the back of the building, the occupants didn’t see the flashing lights of the police cars out front. However, a few regular hotel guests were on hand to witness the procession as Liam Yates was escorted through the lobby about five minutes later, handcuffed, dazed by this latest development, head bowed in embarrassment, saying not a word.
Boy, he’s having a bad night, Candy thought as she stood near the front desk with Maggie and Ben, watching as two uniformed officers led Liam out through the front doors to one of the waiting police cars.
A few moments later, Duncan Leggmeyer emerged from a nearby room, also with a police escort, though without the handcuffs. On his face was an expression of despair mixed with anger.
Candy’s reporter instincts threatened to get the better of her, and she was tempted to start calling out questions to the officers as they passed by her. She knew Ben felt the same way, but they both held back their inquiries, at least for the moment.
Still, Ben couldn’t keep still for long. “I have to find out what’s going on,” he told her as they watched Chief Durr nod to the inn’s proprietor, Oliver LaForce, who stood with hands clasped in front of him beside the assistant innkeeper, Alby Alcott. They both appeared grim yet determined to get back to business as quickly as possible.
Candy turned to Ben. “It probably has something to do with the hatchet,” she told him, and he listened with lips pursed tightly as she explained how Solomon had found the body with a hatchet in its back and had passed the murder weapon on to her so she could deliver it to the police department.
“Why didn’t you tell me this before?” he asked, expressionless.
“There was so much going on. I never had a chance.”
He nodded and pulled her over to one side, out of earshot of the others gathered in the lobby. “Okay, tell me everything you know,” he said, and he cast his eyes downward in concentration as Candy explained what she had discovered that day, with Maggie eavesdropping on their conversation.
“I have to call Finn,” Ben said when she’d finished, “and see if he’s heard anything. Then I should head over to the police station.” He took her hand. “I’m sorry our big night out has been ruined,” he said sincerely.
She gave him an understanding look. “It was brief but wonderful. Go do what you have to do.”
“I don’t mean to leave you stranded. Can you find a ride home?”
“Maggie will take me.” She gave him a quick hug. “Don’t worry about us. We’ll be fine.”
“Okay. I’ll call you as soon as I know something,” he said, and kissed her before he ran off to grab his coat.
After he’d gone, Candy took a deep breath. “Well,” she said to Maggie, “at least we got in one good dance before things got crazy.”
Maggie sighed along with her. “You’re lucky. I barely had that. And now it appears my date has run out on me—though I’m not sure exactly what I did. And to think I got all dressed up for this.”
Candy turned toward her friend, eyes suddenly blazing. “Speaking of dresses…”
If Candy expected any sort of sympathy from her friend—or, heaven forbid, an apology—she was left sorely wanting, for Maggie defended herself vigorously. “Well, no, I didn’t tell you about that part of it because I knew you’d have a cow,” she said lightly, “but there’s no harm done. She doesn’t know the dress is hers—that’s old Mrs. Stevenson, by the way. One of the summer people. They just came up from Connecticut for the weekend. Really nice folks. He made his money in Laundromats. Can you believe that? He’s a millionaire because people plunk quarters into machines to wash their clothes. He’s made his millions a quarter at a time! Anyway, they dropped off the dress the last time they were here, between Christmas and New Year’s. It’s been hanging back there on the unclaimed rack for weeks. And as far as they’re concerned, it’s still hanging there. They’ll probably leave town tomorrow, and it’ll hang there for another few weeks until they get back to town and finally pick it up.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Candy said. “It’s not mine. I have to get out of it at once.”
“But it looks sooo good on you,” Maggie protested.
That, Candy had to admit, was true. She’d received a number of compliments tonight while wearing it. “I do hate to part with it. Do you think she’d sell it to me?”
“I have a better idea,” Maggie said slyly.
“What is it?” Candy asked, and abruptly paused as she reconsidered her question. “No, wait. Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.”
“It’s nothing illegal,” Maggie assured her. “I promise.”
But Candy would not be swayed. “It doesn’t matter. Just take the dress back, put it back on the rack—after sending it back out for cleaning, of course—and let’s be done with it.”
Maggie made a huge deal of sighing in a very dramatic manner. “Fine. Be that way.”
“Good,” Candy said, trying to convince herself that this indeed was the right course of action.
“Good,” Maggie said, affirming that it was—the decision had been made, and that was that, and they were moving on.
Resigned to the fact that she had to give the dress back, Candy changed to another less sartorial subject. “Anyway, back to Preston. Outside, when Ben interrupted us, you were about to tell me something Preston had said—about a message for me?”
“What? Oh, yeah, right. That guy.” She rolled her eyes. “How do I keep getting mixed up with guys like that?”
“It’s your charm.”
“True. And my good looks. I tend to attract the more dangerous types.”
“So what did he say?”
“Well, like I told you, it was just two words.” She lowered her voice to a hush. “He said I was supposed to tell you white field.”
Candy drew her head back, uncomprehending. “What the heck does that mean? What does a white field have to do with anything?”
“I thought it was strange too, but that’s what he said.”
Candy pondered the two words for a few moments as the strains of a Mozart concerto drifted down the hall. The string quartet had started up again. Her stomach growled.
She turned to Maggie. “Are you hungry?”
“Famished.”
“Think we should get something to eat first?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
“After all,” Candy said as they started down the hall toward the ballroom, “we did pay for these tickets—or at least our dates did. We might as well get what we can from them while we figure out what to do next.”