Death of a Cookbook Author

by Lee Hollis

  I paced nervously around the freshly washed fire trucks parked inside the big bay on the fire department side of the building, anxiously awaiting a verdict.

  Finally, the police dispatcher, Sharon, came in with my two empty casserole dishes and announced that the winner by a landslide was my Overnight Summer Breakfast Casserole.

  On the day of the benefit I needed to be at the church an hour before the supper started so I loaded everything I needed into the car. My two best friends Liddy and Mona showed up at my house to wish me luck. They would join me later along with Danny and a couple of his buddies, who were at the house watching a ball game and snacking on my casserole leftovers.

  Everyone came out to the front lawn to see me off, and crossing my fingers tightly hoping for a big win, I climbed in the car, turned up the radio, and backed out of the driveway.

  I had a good feeling, and already was mentally picturing my breakfast casserole on the front cover of the cookbook, not to mention a hundred dollars in my pocket that I planned to use to buy that new set of pots and pans I had been eyeing in the Sears catalog for almost a year.

  I waved to my neighbors who were out in their yards cheering me on, and glancing in the rearview mirror as I drove off, I saw all of my friends, my neighbors, my husband, my kids, all jumping up and down and waving their arms in the air. It choked me up that I had such strong support.

  When I arrived at the church and began to unload, I froze suddenly because I didn’t see my casserole that I was sure I had carefully placed in the backseat. I must have left it at home!

  Just as I was rummaging through my L.L. Bean tote bag for my cell phone to call my husband and have him bring it, I heard a familiar truck horn honking, and turned with relief to see Danny, Liddy, and Mona pulling in to the church parking lot. They must have seen the casserole sitting on the kitchen counter where I had left it and raced over to deliver it to me before the contest.

  I thanked them profusely as they all climbed out of the truck, but their faces told me they hadn’t brought my prize-winning casserole.

  My heart sank.

  Something bad must have happened and they didn’t want to tell me.

  “Did your bonehead friends eat my casserole, Danny? I will tear them limb from limb, I swear!”

  Danny raised a hand. “Nobody ate your casserole. You left it on the roof of your car, and since you had your music turned up, you could see us waving but you couldn’t hear us yelling at you to stop! When you turned the corner at Park Street it flew off the roof and splattered all over the sidewalk.”

  There was momentary silence as it dawned on me that my dream of being featured on the front cover of the church cookbook (not to mention my brand-new set of stainless steel pots and pans) was fast disappearing.

  At least I could still turn in my recipe card so my casserole could be included, but for me, the competition was officially over.

  On a happier note, my recipe was featured on page five and I received many compliments from a number of locals who tried it out and loved the results! Oh, and one more thing, under the Christmas tree that year I found a brand-new set of stainless steel pots and pans straight from the Sears catalog with no name on the tag. But I think I know a couple of elves who may have been involved.

  This week I’ll be sharing my Overnight Summer Breakfast Casserole, but first, how about a yummy cocktail to get you in the mood? Last summer my brother Randy and his husband Sergio hosted two very good friends named Ivan Jackson and Stephen Jenkins, who traveled all the way over from Bristol, England. I had the four of them over for a brunch and served my delicious (if I do say so myself) breakfast casserole. Well, the Brits were in charge of the cocktails, and Ivan made us the most scrumptious drink called the Aviation. I can honestly say that after enjoying a couple of them, I was certainly ready for takeoff myself!

  Ivan and Stephen’s Aviation Cocktail

  2 ounces gin

  ½ ounce maraschino liqueur

  ¼ ounce lemon juice

  Dash of crème de violette

  Shake all ingredients in a cocktail shaker and strain into a cocktail glass.

  Overnight Summer Breakfast Casserole

  1 pound ground sweet Italian sausage

  ½ large sweet onion, diced

  1 cup sliced mushrooms

  2 cloves garlic, minced

  3 cups frozen shredded hash browns

  2 cups shredded sharp cheddar cheese, divided

  1 small green bell pepper, diced

  1 small red pepper, diced

  12 eggs

  2 cups milk

  1½ teaspoons dried parsley

  1½ teaspoons dried basil

  ¼ teaspoon cayenne

  1 teaspoon freshly ground pepper

  1 teaspoon salt

  Cook your sausage, onions, peppers, mushrooms, and garlic in a large skillet over medium heat, stirring occasionally to break up your sausage into crumbles. Cook until sausage is no longer pink. Remove from heat and drain any liquid and set aside.

  Spray a 13-by-9-inch baking dish with cooking spray and place your hash browns evenly over the bottom of the pan (you do not have to defrost the frozen hash browns). Next spread your sausage mixture evenly over the hash browns.

  Crack all the eggs into a large bowl and add your milk, parsley, basil, cayenne, salt, and pepper and whisk until well combined. Now pour your egg mixture over the ingredients in your baking dish. At this point cover with plastic wrap and place in the refrigerator overnight.

  When ready to bake in the morning remove the casserole from the refrigerator and preheat your oven to 375°F. Bake the casserole 60–70 minutes, until eggs are set and a butter knife inserted in the middle comes out clean. Let cool 10 minutes. Slice, serve, and enjoy at a leisurely brunch with good food and good friends!

  Chapter 5

  When Hayley suddenly awoke, she couldn’t breathe.

  There was something on her face suffocating her. Like a furry pillow being held tightly over her nose and mouth.

  Was someone trying to kill her?

  In a panic, she coughed and sputtered and reached up to grab at her assailant, but her hands just sliced through empty air. She then focused on the heavy weight on top of her face. As she came in contact with a long tail that was swishing around, she grabbed the end of it and yanked hard. There was a screech as the big, woolly blob quickly detached from her face, finally allowing her to breathe.

  Hayley quickly flipped on the light next to her on the nightstand, and immediately made eye contact with a giant white Persian cat who did not at all seem pleased to have been so violently roused from his peaceful slumber.

  “Seriously, Sebastian, you couldn’t just curl up next to me? You had to pick my face as your cat bed?”

  Sebastian sized her up with his big brilliant copper eyes that seemed to say, “Please, you should feel lucky I chose you for my company tonight.”

  Hayley couldn’t deny that he was a beautiful cat. He certainly knew it himself, given his spoiled attitude and entitled demeanor.

  She reached over and scratched Sebastian gently underneath the chin and then behind his left ear.

  He seemed to enjoy that, closing his eyes and emitting a soft purr.

  She noticed the door was open a crack, which had allowed Sebastian to enter after she had fallen asleep. She must not have closed it all the way when she came back to bed after getting some fresh air and running into Conrad.

  “So I take it we’re going to be roommates for the weekend,” Hayley said, petting his soft luxuriant coat of white fur.

  Sebastian answered in the affirmative by walking in a circle and then plopping down at the foot of the bed, lifting a leg, and giving himself a tongue bath one more time before going back to sleep.

  Hayley smiled at his determination to keep himself clean.

  And then she was overcome with an abrupt wave of nausea.

  She felt the bile quickly rising in her throat, and she clasped a hand over her mouth to keep it from s
purting out all over the expensive comforter.

  She managed to keep it down and get control of it momentarily.

  Hayley slowly lay back down, flat on her back, and stared at the ceiling for a few minutes, hoping it might pass.

  A summer fever was the worst.

  And of all times to be hit with it, the one weekend she had been invited to a posh celebrity powwow at her heroine Penelope Janice’s swanky estate.

  Maybe it was nothing.

  Just a fleeting queasiness.

  It could just be nerves.

  She had been slightly worried about competing in the potluck contest.

  After all, she was a rank amateur among a cadre of world-class master chefs.

  Yes, she was sure of it.

  Just a case of the nerves.

  But then she started shivering and shaking.

  Sweat beads drizzled down her cheek from her forehead.

  And suddenly the nausea returned like an unforgiving destructive tsunami on an unsuspecting quiet seaside village.

  The mussels.

  She was the only one at dinner who had gorged on that last plate of steamed mussels.

  She must have eaten one that was spoiled.

  She had downed them so fast and vigorously it was hardly surprising she didn’t have the time to thoroughly inspect each one before dousing it in butter and popping it in her mouth.

  As she threw off the thick silken comforter, which covered Sebastian much to his extreme consternation, Hayley jumped out of bed, tossed on her powder-blue bathrobe, and raced for the door, banging her foot on a wooden dresser on her way.

  She yelped in pain, but didn’t have time to inspect her throbbing toe.

  She needed to find a toilet pronto.

  As the least important VIP staying at the house this weekend, she was the only guest who was assigned a room without an attached bathroom.

  Hayley threw open the door and hurled herself out into the hallway in search of a bathroom somewhere in this vast, cavernous house.

  She guessed left, but halfway down the hall she found herself at a dead end with no bathroom in sight. She reversed course and hurried back down the hall, past her room, and around a corner that led her to the staircase. She had noticed a half bath just off the foyer as she entered the front door of the house when she first arrived.

  Hayley rushed headlong down the stairs, her hand thrown protectively across her stomach as if commanding it not to give up just yet, and as she reached the foyer, she breathed a heavy sigh of relief as she spotted the familiar-looking door that led to the half bath. She dashed inside, feeling around with her hands, unable to find the light switch.

  She was out of time.

  Hayley dropped to her knees, one hand over her mouth as she removed her other hand from her belly to grab the wooden toilet seat cover that she could just make out from the moonlight streaming through a tiny leaded window above the small sink.

  She raised the lid and it banged against the porcelain tank and she quickly dropped her head inside the bowl.

  When she was finished, she weakly washed her face and hands, drying herself off with a pink towel next to the basin, and leaned against the wall to catch her breath before heading back upstairs.

  * * *

  As she retraced her steps back to her bedroom, she suddenly overheard two voices, a man and a woman, whispering in the dark.

  “I love you. You know I would do anything for you,” the man said

  “Even murder?” the woman whispered.

  “I said anything.”

  “How do you plan on getting rid of her?”

  “She won’t suffer. I’ll make it as painless as possible.”

  “And you’re sure she doesn’t suspect?”

  “No, she’s completely clueless,” the man said, chuckling. “You know what they say, the wife is always the last to know.”

  It was like a movie.

  Well, not a good one.

  Not one you would go to see in the theater with big stars like Ryan Gosling and Emma Stone.

  No, this was more like one of those Lifetime movies starring vaguely recognizable actors from a daytime soap opera.

  And Hayley had spent many Sunday afternoons binge-watching dozens of those with a big bowl of buttered popcorn on her lap as she stretched out in her living-room recliner.

  Except this wasn’t a cheesy TV movie. This was real and actually happening.

  And it was not a joke. These two sounded deadly serious.

  “You better get back to your room before she notices how long you’ve been gone,” the woman said in a hushed whisper.

  Suddenly Hayley was overcome by a nasty odor, like a strong tobacco.

  The man was puffing on a pipe, and the smoke had floated its way over to her nostrils. She threw a hand over her mouth as the vile smell nauseated her all over again.

  Hayley pressed herself against the wall as much as she could and held her breath. She knew if the man suddenly came bounding around the corner he would bump right into her.

  She prayed he would walk off in the opposite direction.

  She heard a smacking, slurping sound.

  The man was sucking the woman’s face like a Hoover vacuum.

  It must have gone on for almost a minute before he stopped and finally pulled away from her.

  “Sweet dreams,” he said softly.

  “Of course. I’ll be dreaming of you,” the woman cooed.

  Hayley rolled her eyes, but then immediately squeezed them shut, praying she would not be suddenly discovered.

  But she wasn’t.

  Luck was on her side.

  The man headed off in another direction.

  The woman waited until he was gone and then sighed, and sailed right past Hayley, not turning the corner, but instead hurrying off toward the other end of the wing, never even realizing she was standing there.

  She waited a few seconds making sure the coast was clear before scampering off to her room where she found Sebastian waiting for her on the bed, blinking, trying to assess her condition without showing her he cared too much.

  Hayley crawled into bed, her body wrecked and tired from all the heaving and running back and forth from her room to the bathroom downstairs.

  She tried to think about what she had overheard in the hallway.

  Had she just imagined it?

  She was, after all, overcome with fever, and hallucinations are not uncommon when you are running a high temperature.

  But before she could come to any conclusions, she drifted off into a deep sleep, her stomach settling down at least for the moment, with Sebastian nestled next to her head, having inched his way up from the foot of the bed.

  Chapter 6

  Hayley awoke with a start, choking and gagging, unable to breathe.

  Sebastian was once again perched on top of her face.

  She shoved him off her, and he skittered back to the foot of the bed with a low growl, unhappy over being so rudely awakened as she spit out cat hair.

  “Are you actually trying to smother me to death? Is that your plan?” Hayley asked, suddenly embarrassed that she was accusing a cat of nefariously plotting her demise.

  She suddenly remembered the events from last night.

  Desperately searching for a bathroom.

  Stumbling upon the whispered conversation of a mysterious disembodied couple, who were in the midst of hatching a treacherous plot to off the man’s poor unsuspecting wife.

  She knew in her bones it was Penelope’s husband Conrad from the foul smell of his pipe. The woman was obviously Lena Hendricks. It was quite clear to even the most casual observer that there was friction in the marriage, and that the focal point of their discontent was the attractive young assistant/ghostwriter.

  Hayley slid out of the bed and threw on some jeans and a sweatshirt as she contemplated her next move.

  She checked the clock on the nightstand.

  It was early.

  Only six thirty.

&nb
sp; Most of the other guests were probably still sleeping.

  She was feeling much better. Her debilitating food-poisoning symptoms had mostly subsided. Her body was still in a weakened state and she was still mind-numbingly tired, but the nausea was finally gone.

  Hayley sat on the edge of the bed as she debated with herself what she should do. Sebastian stared glumly at her, disappointed not to have her face as a sleeping cushion.

  Should she go directly to Penelope and inform her about what she had overheard?

  Maybe she should call the police?

  Or would the wise thing to do be to confront Conrad and Lena directly?

  Hayley sighed, not sure which option would be the best one.

  She had been dreadfully sick while she bumbled about in the night, lost in the dark.

  Perhaps she had hallucinated the whole incident.

  But it seemed so real. The pipe smoke was so strong.

  No, it had not been some kind of fever dream. It had actually happened. She was certain of it.

  Hayley made a decision.

  She grabbed her cell phone and called her brother Randy’s house. It rang a few times before Randy answered and groaned groggily, “Hello?”

  “Randy, I’m sorry to call you so early, but it’s very important.”

  “It better be,” he barked. “I was at the bar until two in the morning and I just got to sleep.”

  “Can I speak to Sergio?”

  “Hold on. He’s just coming out of the shower.”

  Hayley waited, glancing over at Sebastian, who wasn’t even mildly curious as to what she was doing.

  “Hayley, what’s wrong?” Sergio asked in his deep Brazilian-accented voice.

  Randy’s husband Sergio Alvares was Bar Harbor’s chief of police.

  And in her opinion, the perfect person to get some advice from at the moment.

  “Good morning, Sergio, I hate to bother you. I know you’re very busy, but I need to talk to you. I want . . . gosh, I really don’t know how to say this, but I want to report a crime.”