Death of a Wicked Witch

by Lee Hollis

  “How was your dinner?” Bruce asked.

  Mark opened his mouth to speak but Mary cut him off before he had the chance. “Mark had the crab spinach-stuffed shells, which he liked. I had the pan-browned gnocchi, but frankly, the ones I make at home taste better.”

  “Mark, Mary, have you met the Lancasters?” Hayley asked, gesturing to their dining companions.

  Mark shook Ted’s hand. “Mark Garber.”

  “Ted Lancaster. Pleasure, Mark,” Ted said. “This is my wife, Trudy.”

  Mark turned to Trudy and held out his hand but suddenly stopped short. His mouth dropped open and he just stared at her to the point where it began to get a little uncomfortable. It was obvious Reverend Staples wasn’t the only one who found Trudy Lancaster breathtakingly attractive.

  Finally, in an effort to ease the tension, Trudy reached out and took his hand. “Nice to meet you, Mark.”

  He didn’t say anything.

  He just kept his eyes glued on her.

  Mary, annoyed, nudged her husband. “Close your mouth, Mark. You’ll catch flies.”

  Mark finally snapped out of his haze and nodded to Trudy. “Sorry. Nice to meet you too.”

  Mary stepped in front of Mark. “Since my rude husband has forgotten I’m even here, I’m Mary Garber, the invisible wife.”

  They all laughed, pretending the moment had not been so excruciatingly awkward.

  Mary turned to Trudy. “You’re the woman with the food truck Wicked ’Wiches, am I right?”

  “Yes, that’s me,” Trudy said with a warm smile.

  Mary clapped her hands. “Oh, good! When I saw your ad in today’s Island Times, I had this eureka moment. I’m sure you’ve heard about my annual Halloween party, the Witches Ball!”

  It wasn’t really a question. She just assumed the whole world knew about her soiree in the age of social media. Ted and Trudy just stared at her blankly, not sure how to respond.

  “I was just about to tell them about it,” Hayley chimed in, trying to be helpful.

  “Oh, good. Well, needless to say, I’d love for you to come. Mark and I are always looking to make new friends,” Mary cooed happily to the Lancasters before putting on a more serious face and zeroing in on Trudy. “But given the name of your food truck and the theme of my party, I thought we might be able to help each other out. Would you be interested in parking outside my house and serving your subs to the guests at my party? It would be a terrific way to promote your business and I will pay whatever you think is fair!”

  Trudy’s face lit up. “Of course!”

  “If you have a card, I can call you in the morning to get a quote for the whole evening.”

  Trudy reached into her bag that was hanging on her chair and quickly produced a card, handing it to Mary.

  “We won’t bother you anymore. Enjoy your dessert,” Mary said with a smile that quickly shot downward into a frown as she turned to her husband. “Let’s go, Mark.”

  Mark had finally managed to pry his eyes off Trudy and had them now fixed onto the floor. He nodded and obediently followed his wife out.

  Ted leaned over and put an arm around his beautiful wife. “How about that? Not even in town a week, and you already have your first catering gig.”

  Trudy beamed. “I think I’m really going to like living in Bar Harbor.”

  Hayley could not have been happier for her new friend.

  Chapter 3

  When Hayley stirred awake in her bed, it was still pitch black outside. She checked the digital alarm clock on her nightstand. Ten minutes to four in the morning. She wasn’t sure what had awakened her, but she did know that whatever it was had interrupted a crazy dream she was having where she was lying in a hammock somewhere in the English countryside with Prince Harry, who was feeding her strawberries. She made a mental note not to share what she remembered about the dream to Bruce.

  Hayley grabbed her pillow and turned over in bed to try and fall back to sleep and pick up where she had left off with Prince Harry when she felt something scraping against her big toe, which was exposed outside the fluffy white goose-down comforter. She sat up and stared at a furry little thing perched at the foot of the bed. It was her dog, Leroy, who had been licking her toe.

  “What are you doing up, little man?” Hayley whispered, not wanting to wake up Bruce.

  Leroy’s tongue hung out of his mouth and he panted expectantly. He answered her with a discomfited whine.

  Hayley didn’t need a doggie translator to know what he was trying to say. She sighed. “I just took you out before bed.”

  Hayley reluctantly threw off the covers and crawled out of bed, pulling on some ratty gray sweats and sliding her feet into some furry slippers. Leroy excitedly jumped down onto the floor and scurried out of the bedroom and down the stairs. Hayley tiptoed across the room, but stopped suddenly when she noticed that there wasn’t a big lump where Bruce was supposed to be. His side of the bed was empty.

  Curious, Hayley stepped out into the hallway, wondering if Bruce had gotten out of bed to use the bathroom and that’s what had jolted her out of her Prince Harry dream. But the bathroom door was wide open and the light was off. She made her way down the stairs to the kitchen to meet Leroy at the back door, his tail wagging, anxious to get out into the yard in order to take care of his business.

  Hayley went to open the door when she suddenly noticed someone standing on the deck, his back to the house, looking up at the bright, shiny half moon. It was Bruce. She silently watched him for a few moments, utterly confusing Leroy, who was wondering why he wasn’t outside yet, and that’s when she saw puffs of smoke wafting into the night-light from the side of the house.

  She reached for the knob and yanked the door open. Leroy shot out, obviously in a code-red situation, and the sudden ruckus startled Bruce, who spun around, dropping a lit cigarette that had been wedged between two fingers. The butt hit the wooden porch, and Bruce hurriedly stomped it out before the burning ash started a fire.

  Hayley’s mouth dropped open in shock. “Bruce!”

  “I know, I know, please, Hayley, no lectures tonight.”

  “When did you start smoking again?”

  “I don’t know. Two, maybe three months ago. I don’t really remember exactly when I started.”

  “But you were doing so well. How long has it been?”

  “I quit cold turkey just about nine years ago.”

  “What happened?”

  Bruce shrugged. “I’ve been under a lot of stress lately, and feeling a bit overwhelmed, and one day I was sitting in my office, and I had this craving I just couldn’t shake, so I got in my car and drove over to the Big Apple and bought a pack, and just started up again.”

  “Well, the only recent big change in your life has been marrying me . . . Oh God!” Hayley cried.

  Bruce chuckled. “It’s not you, Hayley.”

  “Then what?”

  “It’s Sal. He’s been riding me hard at work lately.”

  “Why?”

  Bruce absentmindedly pulled a half pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his sweatpants and reached for one, but then realizing Hayley was still watching, decided against lighting it and stuffed it back inside the pack.

  He looked up at Hayley gravely. “Circulation’s been down. The paper’s not doing as well as it should be. So Sal’s been putting the pressure on me to cover more stories.”

  “Well, there are only so many crimes in Bar Harbor you can write about.”

  “Exactly. He wants me to expand my coverage. To go outside the county, follow stories in Bangor, Waterville, Augusta, all the way down to Portland.”

  “I don’t understand. All of those places have their own newspapers.”

  “I know, but he wants me to be more competitive, make more of a name for myself. Funny thing is, down in Boston I was doing just that. But I didn’t like the constant stress and cutthroat competition of big-city reporting, which is a big reason why I moved back home and got a gig here at the local s
mall-time paper.”

  “Bruce, why haven’t you told me this before?”

  “I didn’t want to stress you out too.”

  “You should have said something. And you don’t have to worry about me starting to smoke! I find it totally disgusting!”

  “Believe me, I’m aware of that fact. Look, we all handle our problems in different ways, which is why when you’re stressed you call Liddy and Mona to meet you at your brother’s bar to decompress with a cocktail.”

  Hayley couldn’t argue with him. He had a strong point. Everyone had their vices and so she decided to just blow past it. “So what are you going to do?”

  Bruce shook his head solemnly. “I have no idea. But there are only so many hours in the day, my workload has basically more than doubled, and I’ve been feeling the heat. Sal keeps hinting that if I can’t handle it, he’ll find somebody younger and hungrier who can.”

  “Sal would never fire you,” Hayley said.

  “People always say that right before somebody gets fired.”

  He was right.

  Hayley stepped forward and hugged him. He held her tightly and then kissed her gently on the forehead. She nuzzled her face in Bruce’s chest as he stared back up at the beautiful moon, probably in an effort to keep himself from lighting up again.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll figure it out,” he muttered.

  “Just do me a favor. I know you’re going through a lot, but please try to quit again because—”

  Bruce lovingly patted her back. “I know. Because we just got married and you want to have me around for a while.”

  Hayley hesitated before answering. “Yes.”

  Bruce pulled away and looked her straight in the eye. “Was that what you were going to say?”

  Hayley nodded and said quickly, “Yes.”

  “You’re lying. I can tell,” Bruce said. “What were you really going to say?”

  She hesitated again.

  “Hayley...”

  “I just hate kissing guys with smoker’s breath.”

  Bruce laughed and then playfully kissed her all over her face as she feigned struggling to get him to stop just as Leroy scampered up the wooden steps, ready to go back inside.

  Chapter 4

  Hayley stood inside the terminal of the Hancock County Bar Harbor Airport mesmerized by the Cape Air Cessna 402 arriving from Boston that gently touched down on the runway. She could feel the excitement building inside her as she knew her daughter, Gemma, along with Gemma’s boyfriend, Conner Gibson, were among the passengers onboard. Their originating flight from LaGuardia in New York had left late so there had been a question as to whether or not they would actually make their connection, but a small mechanical issue kept their Bar Harbor–bound flight grounded a few extra minutes, allowing them enough time to race from Terminal B to Gate 27 in Terminal C, according to a text from Gemma once she was strapped in her seat and the plane was ready for takeoff.

  Sure enough, as the door opened, the stairs were lowered, and the nine passengers began to debark; first off was Gemma, looking healthy and radiant, followed by Conner. It was a windy afternoon and Gemma’s silky blond hair was blowing in all kinds of directions as Conner took her hand and they quickly made their way inside.

  Hayley headed to baggage claim, where she had agreed to meet up with them. Gemma spotted her first and ran over to the conveyor belt where her mother eagerly waited for them.

  “I honestly didn’t think we were going to make it!” Gemma cried, hugging her mother tightly.

  “You look beautiful,” Hayley marveled as she stepped back to get a good look at her gorgeous daughter.

  Gemma shyly patted down her windswept hair. “No, I don’t. I look awful. It’s been such a long day.”

  Conner put an arm around her. “She’s terrible at accepting compliments. I’ve practically given up trying.”

  “You’re looking good too, Conner,” Hayley said with a welcoming smile.

  Conner was an actor, but not the scraggly, greasy-haired method type, more the impossibly handsome, put-together, could be in a toothpaste commercial type. Gemma would always joke that he was prettier than she was. Conner would wince every time because he wanted to be taken seriously as an actor not a model. Hayley had once reminded him that both Ashton Kutcher and Channing Tatum had started out as male models.

  Gemma glanced down at the conveyor belt that hadn’t started up yet. “I’ll bet anything our luggage didn’t make it. We barely got to the gate in time ourselves.”

  “I know they didn’t make it because if they had put all the suitcases you brought in the cargo hold, the plane never would have gotten off the ground,” Conner said with a wry smile.

  Gemma playfully swatted Conner on the arm with her handbag and turned back to her mother. “Have you talked to Dustin?”

  Hayley’s heart sank. “No. Why?”

  She never liked hearing that question, mostly because whenever Gemma asked it, that meant she had been in contact with her brother and he had confided some kind of bad news to her, like he was two months behind on his rent in LA, or had failed a class at art school, or crashed the junky used car he had just bought to get himself around the city. Hayley braced herself for the worst.

  “Everything’s fine, Mom. He’s just got a girlfriend,” Gemma said.

  Hayley breathed a huge sigh of relief. “Oh, thank God. I can deal with that.”

  “He’s being very cagey and is not telling me too much about her, but from what I have been able to get out of him so far, she’s in his animation class and liked one of his drawings, and so now he’s totally in love. He posted an adorable picture of the two of them at the beach on Facebook.”

  Hayley frowned. “I didn’t see it. I think he blocked me so I can’t see what he’s been up to. His worst nightmare is if I post a comment like, ‘What are you doing at the beach? Why aren’t you in class?’ ”

  “That’s very possible,” Gemma said, laughing. “How’s Bruce?”

  “Bruce is Bruce, steady as he goes, reliable, I couldn’t be happier. Except for the fact he’s smoking again.”

  Gemma crinkled her nose. “Oh no. You’ll need to break him of that.”

  “Already working on it,” Hayley said, nodding.

  The baggage claim conveyor belt whirred to life and the checked suitcases and boxes began to arrive through the rubber curtain on the carousel. Conner pointed out three Ralph Lauren Signature Logo Series suitcases moving steadily along toward them.

  “It’s a miracle! Look, they made it!” Conner said, circling around the conveyor belt to retrieve them.

  Hayley turned to Gemma. “Work good?”

  Gemma nodded. “Yes, Cyndi keeps telling me how indispensable I am so at least I feel as if I have a little job security... for now, anyway. I have no illusions about the cable TV business.”

  Gemma had started out serving hors d’oeuvres at high-end parties for a catering company called Cyndi’s Yummy Catering while working her way through culinary school in New York. But not long after she started, she was plucked out of the army of revolving cater waiters to be the personal assistant for the company’s founder, Cyndi Reed, who had recently become a bona fide Food Network star with her own show, a series of cookbooks, and a massive social media presence. That was six months ago, and in that time, Gemma had quickly moved up the ladder to the point where she was now making cameo appearances on Cyndi’s Food Network show as her personal sous-chef. Hayley and Bruce had hosted a watch party at the house on the night Gemma had made her first appearance on her boss’s titular show, Cyndi’s Cravings. Hayley could not have been more proud of her daughter’s fast-growing success.

  Hayley noticed Conner struggling with the three suitcases and grabbed Gemma’s arm and guided her toward him. “Come on, I think he could use our help.”

  By the time they loaded up the trunk and backseat with their luggage, and Hayley was driving them across the Trenton Bridge onto Mount Desert Island and home to Bar Harbor, Hayley real
ized that she had been so curious about how Gemma’s job was going, she had failed to inquire about Conner’s own career. “How have you been doing workwise, Conner? I’m sorry I didn’t get to come to New York and see you in that show you did on Broadway a few months ago.”

  “Fortune and Men’s Eyes,” Conner said, rolling his eyes. “It was a revival of an old play from the 1960s about the degradation and brutality of prison life.”

  Hayley raised an eyebrow.

  Conner noticed and chuckled, “Yeah, it’s as fun as it sounds.”

  Gemma piped in, helpfully adding, “Conner actually played the shower scene naked and he looked phenomenal!”

  “Having nice abs isn’t going to win me an Obie.”

  Gemma noticed Hayley looking at her, confused, and explained, “Off Broadway Theatre Awards.”

  “Ah, thank you,” Hayley said, smiling, as she gripped the wheel and fixed her eyes back on the road.

  Conner scowled. “It wasn’t Off-Broadway. It was off-off-Broadway, practically in Jersey.”

  “Well, I still would have loved to have seen you act on stage,” Hayley said, glancing at the rearview mirror to see him frowning in the backseat.