Death of a Blueberry Tart

by Lee Hollis

  And then she quickly followed her mother back down the stairs. It was a believable explanation. But just like Jeanette, who failed to buy the flimsy excuse that Hayley and her mother were snooping around in her bedroom for fashion tips, Hayley wasn’t about to buy the Halloween costume story.

  At least not yet.

  Chapter 34

  Hayley leaned against the bar at Drinks Like a Fish later that afternoon and quietly absorbed what Rupert Stiles had just told her. She was not entirely surprised, but it still raised her suspicions, enough so that she thought she better hear it again just to be sure.

  “You told him what?”

  Rupert, who was hunched over on his bar stool, clutching his glass as if he was holding on to it for dear life, took a generous swig of the whiskey, and then turned to Hayley with his vacant, watery eyes. He had probably been drinking for quite some time. “I told him I’ve pretty much been in love with Regina Knoxville my whole life.”

  “Julio Garcia.”

  Rupert nodded. “Yup.”

  “When did this happen?”

  “In his shop. I got my beard trimmed a few weeks ago. I go in once a year in the summer and he cleans it up a bit before I let it grow long during the fall and winter months. Keeps me warm. But by spring, the dang thing is practically down to my kneecaps.”

  “How did the topic of Regina Knoxville even come up?”

  “Because she was there.”

  “In the salon?”

  “Yup. Two chairs down from me. She couldn’t hear us talking though, on account of her being underneath one of Julio’s old-fashioned hair dryers. Julio noticed me staring at her through the mirror, and he asked if I had a little crush on Regina. Well, I told him I’d been carrying a torch for her ever since we met on the playground in the fifth grade. She didn’t pay me much mind though, back then. Fact is, like I told you before, she’s never paid me much mind, ever. Except to laugh at me. Still, all these years, right up until the day she died, whenever I’d see her my heart would get this little flutter.”

  Hayley hadn’t expected to learn such a revelation when she first arrived at her brother’s bar to meet Bruce for a drink after work and saw Rupert at the far end of the bar singing along to an old Reba McEntire ditty playing on the jukebox. She had decided to just stop by and say hello, but then the topic of Regina Knoxville came up and not long after that Rupert had made this stunning admission. It wasn’t proof of anything, but it sure was odd that Rupert had at one point been arrested for Caskie Lemon-Hogg’s murder and that Hayley may have uncovered some circumstantial evidence that Julio or his wife may have been involved. But the gray beard Hayley had found in the closet connected one or both of them to Caskie Lemon-Hogg’s murder, not Regina Knoxville’s killing. Still, someone was trying very hard to pin Caskie Lemon-Hogg’s murder on Rupert. And maybe that same person was going to try to do the same with Regina Knoxville’s murder, knowing Rupert had long-simmering, unrequited feelings for her that could have somehow given way to bitter resentment.

  A thought popped into Hayley’s head and she leaned in closer to Rupert. “When exactly did you notice your credit card was missing?”

  “Let me think,” Rupert said, scratching his beard and then taking another swig of his whiskey. “Might have been later that day, after I got my beard trimmed, I’m not sure. I kept meaning to call and cancel the card, but I got to drinking and forgot all about it.”

  Perhaps Caskie’s killer had counted on that.

  The desk clerk’s description of the gray-bearded man and Rupert’s actual credit card being used to reserve the room was enough to get him arrested. The killer just didn’t expect him to have such an airtight alibi, since Rupert spent much of his time alone and inebriated at home.

  Hayley strongly suspected that both murders were connected, but how? There was nothing yet that suggested Rupert was responsible for strategically placing that beehive near where Regina Knoxville was picking blueberries. Besides, according to him, he was allergic to bees too.

  At that moment, Bruce breezed through the door of the bar, late as usual. He signaled Randy to get him a bottle of Stella Artois since Bruce hated the flat taste of beer from the tap. Hayley squeezed Rupert’s arm and thanked him for talking to her, and then she made a beeline over to Bruce. He noticed she didn’t have a cocktail in her hand.

  “This is a first. No drink. Since when are you on the wagon?”

  “I got distracted. I think Julio Garcia is trying to frame Rupert Stiles for both murders!”

  “Whoa, hold on. What? Why?”

  “Well, we know Julio was having an affair with Regina. Maybe the whole thing went south and there was some reason he wanted to get rid of her—”

  “And so he just trotted out to the park with a beehive, hoping the bees would target Regina? That’s insane! And how does that frame Rupert?”

  “It doesn’t. Not yet. But Rupert admitted he still carried a torch for Regina, and maybe Julio was going to plan to use that against him . . .”

  “Yes, but, Hayley, Rupert was arrested for Caskie’s murder, not Regina’s. It doesn’t make a lick of sense.”

  “I know. But the gray beard I found in Julio’s closet, the credit card Julio could have easily swiped when Rupert was in the salon getting his beard trimmed . . . all the signs keep pointing back to him . . .”

  “But why frame Rupert for Caskie’s murder? I understand why he would use Rupert to cover his tracks for Regina. But as far as we know, Rupert didn’t care about Caskie at all, so why set him up for that one?”

  “I don’t know. We’re still missing some pieces of the puzzle.” Hayley ran the facts over in her mind again. “But what if Julio was having affairs with both Caskie and Regina, and they found out about each other and things got out of hand and Julio was afraid they would tell Jeanette?”

  “It’s not possible,” Bruce said.

  “Why not?”

  “Because Julio wasn’t attracted to Caskie Lemon-Hogg. He told me so himself when he was cutting my hair a couple of months ago, and Caskie was at the cash register causing a scene, claiming she had been overcharged for some skin creams she had bought on her last visit, which she had seen for half the price on Amazon. I remember Julio specifically telling me he didn’t like women taller than himself, especially tall women who talked too loud, like Caskie.”

  “He could have made an exception.”

  “Trust me, he was pretty emphatic about it. I’m sorry, babe, but there is no way Julio would ever have an affair with Caskie, which blows a big wide hole through your theory.”

  “Then what did he have against her? Other than her complaints about him charging too much for a bottle of facial cream?”

  “That’s hardly a reason to kill her.”

  “It still could be Jeanette,” Hayley suggested.

  “But if Julio was sleeping with Regina, why would the scorned wife kill Caskie?”

  Hayley sighed, frustrated. “I don’t know . . .”

  The questions just kept piling up.

  With no concrete answers in sight.

  Chapter 35

  The next day at the Island Times office, Hayley sat at her desk, working her way through her in-box, answering a few emails, and fielding a handful of calls from business owners interested in placing ads in upcoming issues. All in all, it was a pretty typical if not exciting day at the local daily paper. That lasted until about ten thirty, when her phone rang and she had the regrettable misfortune of picking it up.

  “Island Times, this is Hayley.”

  “Hayley, this is Julio Garcia.”

  She was caught a little off guard and couldn’t help but feel slightly nervous. She assumed Jeanette had told him how she had caught Hayley snooping around in their walk-in closet and perhaps he was calling to chew her out and tell her to mind her own business. But as it turned out, that wasn’t why he was calling at all.

  “Yes, Julio, how can I help you today?” Hayley said tentatively.

  “You nee
d to come over to the salon right now and pick up your mother!”

  “My mother? I’m sorry, I’m a little confused. Is she there for a hair appointment?”

  “No! I don’t want her business! I don’t want her in my shop! I want her gone!”

  “Can you please put her on the phone?”

  “Come and get her right now, Hayley!”

  “But I really don’t understand—”

  “Come now or I am going to call the police!”

  Julio hung up.

  Hayley knew that whatever her mother had done was probably bad, and the last thing she or her mother needed was Sergio or any of his officers involved again, so she shot up from her desk, grabbed her bag, and raced out the door, hoping she would manage to get back to the office before anyone noticed she had been gone.

  Once she was behind the wheel of her car, it was roughly a four-minute drive to Julio’s Salon, and when she pulled up in front, through the window she could see a commotion happening inside. Julio was waving his arms around, screaming, while her mother stood defiantly by a shelf of his beauty products, her arms folded.

  Hayley jumped out of her car and raced up the steps and into the shop. A few women, in various stages of having their hair done, all stared at Julio yelling and presumably cursing in Spanish as Sheila stared him down, not budging an inch.

  Finally, when Julio stopped for a moment to catch his breath and noticed Hayley standing in the doorway, staring numbly at him berating her mother, he sighed. “Hayley, thank you for coming.” He gestured toward Sheila. “Here, take her.”

  “Mom, what’s going on?”

  “I just asked him a simple question and suddenly he just went crazy.”

  Hayley took a step forward, not anxious to get involved, but she knew she didn’t have much of a choice. She already was involved. “What did you ask him?”

  Sheila hesitated and then mumbled, “I don’t want to set him off again. He gets so dramatic and the veins on his forehead pop out.”

  Hayley looked to Julio and noticed her mother was right about his protruding veins.

  Julio said under his breath, “She asked me if I was having a secret affair with Caskie Lemon-Hogg . . .”

  Hayley whipped around to her mother. “What?”

  Sheila shrugged. “I was curious. It’s not my fault he has such a short fuse. I guess that’s why everyone says Spanish men are so hot-blooded.”

  “I’m not Spanish! I’m from Argentina!”

  “Isn’t that basically the same thing?” Sheila asked innocently.

  “No, it is not!” Julio cried, raising his hands as if he was about to wrap them around Sheila’s throat.

  “See, it looks like he wants to strangle me. I find it rather strange that the police say Caskie died of strangulation, don’t you?” Sheila remarked casually to the other ladies in the salon, not the least bit concerned that Julio might actually physically attack her at any moment.

  Julio immediately dropped his hands to his sides. He didn’t need his other customers getting it into their heads he had a violent temper.

  This was not good. Sheila had no business riling up Julio, who, in her mind, was a strong suspect for at least the Regina Knoxville murder. It is always smarter to lull the suspect into a false sense of security, let him feel as if he is getting away with his crimes, and eventually he will let his guard down and make a mistake. But with Sheila constantly insisting on confronting everyone, from Owen Meyers, to Caskie herself, to now Julio, she had everyone on edge.

  “Come on, Mom, I think we should just go,” Hayley said.

  “I’m not going anywhere until he gives me an answer. I’m tired of everyone thinking I’m the one who killed Caskie,” Sheila barked, still not budging.

  “How did you even get the idea in your head that Julio and Caskie were romantically involved?” Hayley asked, thoroughly confused.

  “As you know, I have been investigating on my own, with Celeste and Jane’s help, of course, and we uncovered evidence—”

  Julio’s veins started popping again. “What evidence? There is no evidence because I have never touched a hair on Caskie Lemon-Hogg’s head!”

  “Well, we know that’s a lie right there, because you’re her hairdresser!” Sheila said calmly.

  The other ladies in the salon nodded in agreement.

  “It’s a figure of speech!” Julio cried. “Of course I touched her hair . . . but just her hair!”

  It suddenly dawned on Hayley where this had to be coming from. When Hayley and Bruce returned home from Randy’s bar the night before, they were still discussing the theory of Julio’s involvement with both women, even though Bruce had heard from Julio himself that he was not the least bit attracted to Caskie. In the kitchen, as they made themselves a late-night snack, Hayley threw out the possibility that Julio could have been lying to Bruce to cover his tracks. Maybe he was just pretending not to be interested in Caskie in order to keep their affair a secret. Bruce dismissed that theory because he felt in his gut Julio had told him the truth. And since Hayley was now acutely aware that her mother had been making a habit of eavesdropping on their conversations, she could only assume that Sheila was planted at the top of the stairs again, straining her ears to hear every word. And she had probably decided in that moment to get to the bottom of it herself. And now here Hayley was, standing in the middle of Julio’s Salon, trying to defuse a rather combustible situation.

  Julio, frustrated, spun around and shouted something in Spanish. After a moment, his cousin Juan poked his head out from behind a black curtain that led to the supply room, where he had obviously escaped to, hoping to avoid getting enmeshed in all the swirling drama.

  Julio stomped his foot, and directed Juan to come over to where he was standing with Hayley and Sheila. Juan shyly trudged across the salon, all eyes in the shop watching him.

  Julio yelled something in Spanish, but then caught himself, and repeated it in English. “Juan, tell these ladies where I was on the night Caskie Lemon-Hogg was killed at the bed-and-breakfast over on Mount Desert Street!”

  Juan shuffled his feet, his eyes downcast, and mumbled, “Here at the shop.”

  “And how do you know that?” Julio asked.

  “Because I was here with you . . .” Juan said shyly.

  Sheila shook her head and scoffed. “Oh, please. He’s your cousin. Of course he would try and cover for you—”

  Hayley shot a scolding look at her mother. “Mom!”

  Julio nudged Juan. “Go on.”

  Juan finally raised his eyes to meet Hayley’s but didn’t dare look anywhere near Sheila’s direction. He was clearly frightened by her. He focused on Hayley because she appeared to be the more reasonable one. “He was training me. He had me work on one of those . . . man . . . man . . .” He turned to his cousin. “What are they called?”

  “Mannequin training heads,” Julio answered. “Go on. Show them.”

  Juan trotted back behind the black curtain and emerged a few seconds later carrying a mannequin head with a sleek long bob with curves and side-swept bang.

  Julio smiled proudly. “See? What a nice job! He did it all by himself! I just supervised and gave him a few pointers.”

  Sheila still wasn’t buying the story. “That doesn’t prove a thing. Where’s the security tape showing you were really here? Where are the witnesses who happened to pass by the shop and saw you both in here working late?”

  Julio’s popping veins returned with a vengeance every time he heard the sound of Sheila’s voice, but he kept his temper in check and said evenly, “No one actually saw us, but a few customers called the landline to make appointments while we were here. I will give you their names. I am sure they would be happy to swear they talked to me personally.”

  Hayley gently took her mother by the arm. It was time to go. She smiled at Julio and Juan. “Thank you for your time.”

  Julio didn’t answer her. He turned his back on them and hurried over to the three clients who had been tr
apped in the shop watching the whole ugly scene unfold, offering them free jars of his personalized cleansing purifying scrub with sea salt for their inconvenience.

  As Hayley and her mother turned to leave, the door flew open and Liddy rushed in, her phone clamped to her ear. “I’m on the verge of a bidding war, so you tell your client that offering the asking price is a surefire way of not getting the house of his dreams!” She ended the call and shoved the phone back in her purse, then approached Juan, whom she saw first as he stood awkwardly by the register, still holding the mannequin head. “Julio, you have to help me! I have an open house in an hour and my hair looks like a rat’s nest!”

  “I’m Juan . . .” he said.

  “Oh, you look just like Julio . . .” Liddy noted before finally noticing Hayley and Sheila. “I was going to call you. It’s been a bear of a day. Let’s meet for lunch so I can calm down with a glass of chardonnay. Is one o’clock good for you?”

  Hayley nodded, but her mind was elsewhere. There was something about Liddy mistaking Juan for Julio that suddenly got her attention. They did look alike. And they also sounded alike. If she closed her eyes, she would have difficulty identifying who was speaking, which in her mind left open the possibility that Juan could have easily answered those phone calls and pretended to be his cousin.

  Julio’s alibi suddenly wasn’t so airtight.

  Island Food & Spirits BY HAYLEY POWELL

  When my son, Dustin, was born, I not only found myself juggling a newborn baby, but also a rambunctious toddler and a high-maintenance husband who was constantly bouncing from job to job looking for the next best thing. It was a particularly trying time, and after a few weeks, I finally hit my breaking point. My husband, Danny, had called me one morning on his break from his job at a local convenience store, and summarily announced he was quitting his job so he could, as he put it, “direct my creative side in a more positive direction.” It was lucky for him that before I could open my mouth to respond, Dustin, who I was holding at the time, began spewing formula everywhere within a four-foot radius. It was like a scene right out of The Exorcist.