Death of a Wicked Witch

by Lee Hollis

  “That is an odd coincidence,” Hayley said. “I wonder what made her feel the need to bring it up at that particular time?”

  “I asked her,” Ted said. “She said that she had met someone here in town who kind of reminded her of a boy she knew back in high school, who she always thought might have been involved in setting the fire, but he had another name back then and looked totally different now so she didn’t think it could be him.”

  “Wait,” Tori gasped, clasping her hands together. “Are you saying Trudy didn’t think I was responsible for the fire?”

  Ted nodded. “I guess so.”

  “I always assumed she did,” Tori whispered, a wave of relief seeming to wash over her.

  “Whomever she saw, whomever she suspected might have been one of the real culprits, maybe that’s what triggered her to try and get back in contact with you,” Hayley said. She then turned to Ted. “Did Trudy ever say the name of the boy or the man here in town who reminded her of the boy?” Hayley asked.

  “I’m afraid not. She ultimately dismissed the idea that they were one and the same, and so she dropped the whole subject and never brought it up again.”

  A jolt of excitement shot through Hayley as her mind began to race. “Is there a yearbook we can look at?”

  Tori regretfully shook her head. “I don’t have one. Since I left school early, I wasn’t around to collect one. And my memories of high school were so painful, I didn’t want any kind of reminder of those awful years.”

  “What about Trudy?” Hayley asked, spinning around to Ted.

  “I’m not sure. I haven’t gone through all of Trudy’s things yet, but I can certainly take a look and see if I can find it.”

  Hayley could sense that discussing her late sister was taking an emotional toll on Tori, and so she stood up to leave. “Tori, can I give you a ride back to your motel?”

  “That would be lovely, thank you,” she said.

  “You are welcome to stay here,” Ted said. “My daughter, Alyssa, is staying here with me, but we have plenty of room.”

  It was a genuine gesture to be sure, but Hayley could not help but think Ted was desperate to have someone who reminded him so deeply of his late wife he loved so much around.

  Tori sensed it as well.

  “It’s probably best if I go back to my motel,” she said. “But thank you, Ted.”

  Ted nodded soberly, realizing he had probably just crossed a line.

  As Hayley led Tori out to her car, she couldn’t ignore the distinct feeling that she was on the road to cracking this case wide open. It was just a feeling, but it was strong enough to propel her forward to her final destination: Trudy’s killer.

  Chapter 35

  Reverend Staples grabbed his wife by the arms and smooched her firmly on the lips as she came rambling out of the RV in search of another box to pack inside. Hayley, who was walking up the pathway to the Congregational church, stopped suddenly at the sight, surprised.

  After Edie Staples’s very loud and public announcement that she wanted a divorce, and that her cross-country trek with her lout of a husband was officially cancelled, a loving kiss shared between the two of them was the last thing Hayley had expected to see this early morning.

  But there they were, in the church parking lot, in front of their monstrosity of a recreational vehicle, getting frisky with each other. Edie playfully pretended to try and get away from him and the gleeful reverend lightly swatted her behind as she giggled and cooed and scurried back to the side door to the church where Hayley stood, frozen in place.

  “Good morning, Hayley, looks like it’s going to be a gorgeous Monday!” Edie chirped as she hurried up the steps and disappeared inside.

  “Uh, yes,” Hayley mumbled.

  After a moment of watching Reverend Staples head back into the RV, a definite spring in his step, Hayley entered the church through the side door. She wandered down to Ted’s office where she found him pouring over some paperwork.

  “Ted, I’m not sure I believe my own eyes, but outside just now I saw—”

  Ted didn’t have to wait for her to finish. He laughed and said, “Yes, the reverend and his wife have reconciled. I don’t mean to toot my own horn, but as my first official business as the new minister of the Congregational church, I made it my personal mission to make sure the outgoing one left happy.”

  “How on earth did you manage that?”

  “Part of the job for us men and women of the cloth is to know how to counsel and guide our parishioners, and so I just explained to them that all marriages have bumps in the road, and there’s plenty ahead for them both literally and figuratively, but it would be a shame to let a little midlife crisis on his part and a little jealousy on her part prevent them from sharing and enjoying what promises to be the most joyful years of their lives, or something to that effect.”

  “Well, it certainly worked. Those love birds can’t keep their hands off each other,” Hayley said, chuckling. “You’re very good at your job.”

  “I wish I could be more helpful with what you needed from me,” Ted said.

  “Oh,” Hayley groaned. “You couldn’t find Trudy’s yearbook?”

  “No, and there is very little information about her graduating class on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, or any other social media sites I looked at. I found a few posts here and there, but nothing significant.”

  “The high school must have a hard copy of the yearbook in a filing cabinet somewhere,” Hayley said.

  “I called, but the woman I spoke to said I would have to come down there in person to look at it. They don’t give out copies to anyone.”

  “Looks like I’m going to have to take a little road trip down to Portland.”

  “That’s a three-hour trip!”

  “But worth it if we find out more about this mysterious classmate of Trudy’s who she thought she recognized here in Bar Harbor.”

  “You really think that story Tori told us about the fire is somehow connected to Trudy’s death?”

  “I’d be willing to bet on it.”

  Hayley raced out of the church to her car that was parked out on the street just in time to see Reverend Staples and Edie pawing each other again outside their RV. She turned her head to avoid witnessing anything too lurid, hopped in her car, and drove straight to the Island Times office.

  As she entered the front office, Sal was at the coffeemaker pouring himself a cup.

  “What is this, a national holiday I didn’t know about?” Sal bellowed. “Where the hell is everybody?”

  “Bruce is driving Gemma’s boyfriend, Conner, to the Bangor Airport. Didn’t he tell you?”

  “He sent me an email. I’m not talking about him. I’m talking about you!”

  Hayley glanced up at the wall clock.

  It was after nine.

  She was usually at her desk before eight thirty, but had lost track of time stopping by the church before work.

  “I’m sorry I’m late, Sal. It won’t happen again,” Hayley promised.

  “Good. Now we’re out of coffee and you know I don’t know how to operate this damn thing—”

  “I was wondering. It’s going to be kind of slow today and I’ve already filed my column for tomorrow and—”

  Sal raised an eyebrow. “Kind of slow today? What are you, some kind of psychic? So now you can predict that no big stories are going to break today that will require all hands on deck?”

  “Well, no, but—”

  “But you’re going to ask for a personal day anyway, am I right?”

  “Yes, that was the plan.”

  “I guess I’m psychic too, then!”

  “It’s just that I need to drive down to Portland—”

  “Portland? What is so important that you have to drive all the way down there? If you need some kind of retail therapy, can’t you just drive up to Walmart in Ellsworth?”

  Hayley quickly explained the errand she needed to run, how Trudy Lancaster’s yearbook might be able to
shed some light on the facts surrounding her mysterious death. Sal listened patiently, for a change, and when she was finished, he exhaled, drawing out his breath long enough for her to be in a little suspense as to what his final decision would be, and then he waved an arm at her and barked, “Go!”

  “Seriously?”

  “I’m always serious, Hayley.”

  “Thank you, Sal. Who knows? I might come back with a big scoop!”

  “If you do, then I might kick your husband to the curb and just have you write the crime column.”

  “Please don’t do that! I want a happy marriage.”

  Hayley spun around and headed for the door.

  “Wait!” Sal screamed.

  Hayley stopped in her tracks. When she turned back around, Sal was scribbling something down on a piece of paper with a ballpoint pen. When he was done, he crumpled it up and shoved the paper in her hand.

  Hayley unfolded the paper to see a name and number written on it. “Who’s Sandra Wallage?”

  “An old friend of mine and my wife’s. I was in the press pool when her husband ran for Congress back in the day.”

  “Congress? Wait, Wallage? You mean you know Senator Stephen Wallage and his wife?”

  “Yes, it may come as a surprise to you, Hayley, but I do happen to know a few important people. Anyway, Sandra is—or was—the PTA president at South Portland High School. I’m sure she can help you get your hands on a yearbook. Tell her I told you to give her a call.”

  “Thank you, Sal,” Hayley said, clutching the piece of paper to her chest.

  “I also heard through the grapevine Sandra is working part-time with a private detective so they may be able to provide some additional information.”

  Hayley was so excited by these new key contacts she raced across the room and pecked Sal on the cheek.

  He immediately stiffened. “Now don’t go getting all mushy on me. I gave you the day off. Isn’t that enough? Now get the hell out of here before I change my mind!”

  Without saying another word, Hayley scooted out of the office. She swung by her house first, and when she pulled into the driveway, she noticed Bruce’s car was already gone. Gemma stood on the deck attached to the side of the house, lost in thought. She had not even noticed Hayley arriving. Only when Hayley jumped out of the car and slammed the door shut did Gemma turn her head in Hayley’s direction and see her for the first time.

  “They just left,” Gemma said quietly.

  “How did you leave it with Conner?”

  Gemma shrugged. “I don’t know. Awkward. Sad. Like it might be the last time we ever see each other.”

  Hayley could see Gemma’s emotions rising to the surface, as if she was about to burst into tears. “Come on, get in the car.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “I’ll explain on the way.”

  “Should I pack a bag or anything?”

  “If we need something, we’ll pick it up there. I’m not leaving you here on your own all day. I’ll call Mona and have her drop by to feed and walk Leroy. Let’s go.”

  Gemma decided not to argue, and just got in the passenger’s side of Hayley’s Kia and strapped in. Hayley jumped back behind the wheel, backed out of the driveway, and drove straight for Route 3 and out of town.

  Their mother-daughter road trip to find some answers was officially underway.

  Chapter 36

  In Hayley’s opinion, the photos she had seen on the internet or in the newspaper did not do Sandra Wallage justice. The blond wife of the junior senator from Maine was simply stunning to look at in person, and her colleague, Maya Kendrick, with her long raven hair, big brown eyes, and gorgeous caramel skin, was just as beautiful. The two of them together resembled a fashion ad in Vanity Fair.

  Gemma, who was sitting on the couch in their office next to Hayley, was also visibly taken aback by the two women. What was most curious to Hayley, however, was how this pair had happened to come together. Sandra had spent most of her time hosting luncheons and running in political circles while Maya, an ex-cop, had a much more streetwise way about her. But from the moment Hayley and Gemma had arrived at the office at the appointed time, Hayley had immediately sensed an easy rapport between them, a familiarity, like they had been working together for years, even though Sandra was quick to point out that she was a newcomer to the whole private investigation world and was learning on the job from her partner, Maya.

  When Gemma inquired as to how they met, Maya seemed to brush off the question, answering with a curt “We met while I was working on a case, became friends, and it just sort of developed from there.” Neither seemed anxious to get any more detailed, so Gemma decided not to ask further follow-up questions.

  Hayley had read a few gossip columns about the shaky state of Sandra’s marriage, and all the rumors that she and her senator husband had separated, but the couple was keeping any hints of trouble under wraps and had not put out any public statements. Whether Sandra’s new career as a private eye had anything to do with her leaving her husband and starting a new life was not something Hayley was going to find out, at least not today.

  Instead, Sandra was laser-focused on why Hayley and Gemma had come all the way down to Portland, and was definitely eager to help. “Sal said you wanted to know about the fire that happened at the South Portland high school way back in the mid-2000s.”

  “Yes,” Hayley said. “Sal thought you might be able to fill in a few details for us.”

  Maya, who was behind her desk, leaned back in her chair and put her feet up. “I was a rookie with the Portland Police Department at the time. They caught the girl who set the fire, if I remember correctly?”

  “Yes, but I met her in Bar Harbor recently and she claims she didn’t do it, even after all these years. She told me that because she had a history of emotional problems at the time, everyone was anxious to pin the blame on her, close the case, and move on,” Hayley said.

  Sandra folded her arms, lost in thought. “I was a stay-at-home mom when that happened. I had just given birth to my son, Jack. My husband, Stephen, was running for state attorney general at the time. That story was such a big deal and got so much press coverage. I remember thinking at the time how lucky it was no one died or got seriously hurt. If the fire department hadn’t raced to the scene as fast as they did, the whole school would have burned down. Parents were outraged and wanted answers fast. It didn’t take long for them to find that girl...”

  “Tori,” Hayley said.

  “That’s right. Tori something. When I heard they had found the culprit, like everyone else, I was so relieved and disgusted she would do something so stupid and dangerous. But then I saw her picture in the paper, and I thought, I don’t know, I just had this gut feeling that she didn’t do it.”

  “You were pretty much the only one,” Maya said.

  “I know. Maybe I’m a sucker for a troubled, lonely girl. I wanted to believe her, I really did.”

  “As I said, I’ve met Tori and I am absolutely convinced she had nothing to do with setting that fire,” Hayley said. “I guess that’s why we came to you. To find out if there are more facts than what’s generally known.”

  Maya swung her feet down to the floor and stood up. “Well, we can’t exactly take you on as a client right now—”

  “Good, because we can’t afford to hire you,” Hayley said, smirking.

  Maya returned her smile and then picked up a book off the desk and handed it to Hayley. “But we did manage to get our hands on this.”

  It was the South Portland High School yearbook from the time of the fire.

  Hayley flipped open the book excitedly as Gemma scooted closer to her mother so they could both pour over it. The graduating students were listed with their photos alphabetically, and Hayley found Trudy’s picture in a matter of seconds. Next to her, Tori was listed but there was no photo. She had already been sent away and her family probably felt they shouldn’t submit a picture of the girl who nearly destroyed the entire scho
ol. They thumbed through a few more pages, and Gemma suddenly gasped.

  Hayley turned to her, puzzled. “What?”

  Gemma pointed to a picture. “Look at that boy.”

  Hayley studied the picture Gemma had picked out and the name listed underneath it. “Erik Henderson. What about him?”

  “Doesn’t he remind you of someone?” Gemma asked.

  Hayley scrunched up her face as she stared at the photo. “I don’t know, he seems familiar to me, but I can’t quite place him, and I’m pretty certain I’ve never heard of an Erik Henderson.”

  “It’s Mark Garber,” Gemma said confidently.

  “What?” Hayley choked, fixing her eyes on the picture again.

  Gemma snatched the yearbook from her mother and raised it up to inspect it closer. “Mom! Look at the nose, the chin, that crooked smile, it’s Mark Garber! I’m sure of it!”

  “But the hair color is different and it’s hard to tell what color his eyes are behind those thick glasses.”

  “People can change their hair color and get Lasik surgery to correct their eyesight, Mother!”

  Hayley was skeptical at first, but the longer she studied the photo and imagined what the boy might look like now, as a grown man, she slowly became more and more convinced her daughter might be right.

  Maya circled around the desk and handed some papers stapled together to Hayley. “After Sal told us you were coming down, I called an old buddy at the police department I used to work with and he got me a copy of the original police report. I skimmed it while we were waiting for you to show up, and I remember that name. Erik Henderson. It’s in the report.”

  Hayley shuffled through the pages and stopped when she came to the name. She read through the section quickly, and then looked up, surprised. “He was questioned by the police the next day.”

  Maya nodded. “A janitor had seen him and a few of his buddies in the vicinity of the school the night of the fire, and brought them down to the station to ask them a few questions. If you look at the officer’s notes, he clearly states the Henderson kid was acting suspicious. But then, very quickly, evidence started mounting against Tori, and he was discarded as a suspect.”