Town in a Strawberry Swirl: A Candy Holliday Murder Mystery
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In the quaint seaside village of Cape Willington, Maine, Candy Holliday has a mostly idyllic life, tending to the Blueberry Acres farm she runs with her father and occasionally stepping in to solve a murder or two…
Summer has arrived! But as the community gears up for another festive strawberry-picking season, the villagers are shocked when local berry farmer Miles Crawford is found dead in a hoophouse near his strawberry fields. Rumors have been swirling around about a secret real estate deal between Miles and Lydia St. Graves. And now Lydia is missing after she was seen fleeing the scene of the crime…
When Henry “Doc” Holliday becomes involved in the mystery, his daughter Candy finds herself caught in the jam as well. But things turn very sticky when Lydia suddenly reappears and asks for Candy’s help in finding the true murderer…
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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
exchange of e-mails, but let that go as well. Today was not a good day to upset the ladies of the Heritage Protection League and stir up even more problems for herself. So instead, as pleasantly as she could, she said, “Well, then, I’m sure Wanda will be here shortly to meet with you. In the meantime, if there’s any way I can help, I’d be glad to do what I can.” The ladies were silent for a few moments. They exchanged furtive glances, as if silently coaxing one another to say something.
evening at 7:00 at the Pruitt Public Library. Everyone is welcome, and beginner knitters are encouraged to attend. . . . July will be Decorate Cape Willington Month, so get out your best lawn ornaments and start decorating the great outdoors! Anything goes, from Margaritte Jordan’s giant wooden blueberry pie (which a tourist offered to buy from her last summer!) to Walter Gruther’s hundreds of plastic smiley-face clams and lobsters. Let’s decorate the town like nothing ever seen before!
through his mind as he climbed into his truck, cranked up the engine, and backed out of his parking spot on Main Street, headed for home. He took the old familiar route, south to the red light at the corner and then right on the Coastal Loop, which put the bright ocean to his left. As he drove, he thought about all that had happened over the past twenty-four hours or so, including the most recent news concerning Lydia, and chided himself for starting this whole mess in the first place. If he
family has been searching for that place for years—decades. Generations. It’s an old family legend, part of our history. We’d heard it might be around there somewhere but we never knew for sure—until Mr. Crawford showed me that old foundation and graveyard. I suspected it might have been what we’d been looking for all those years, so I did some research at the historical society, and found a few old sources that confirmed my suspicions. When I told Morgan about it during one of her visits, she