Death of a Cupcake Queen

by Lee Hollis

  Hayley unpacked the groceries that needed to be stored in the refrigerator and left the rest of the unperishable items in the bag. She then joined her son at the dining room table.

  “Dustin, would you play back all the footage you recorded that night so I can see it?” Hayley asked, staring at the computer screen, which was frozen on an image of Mona guzzling down a bottle of beer.

  “All three hours? Are you kidding me?”

  “I want to make sure there was nothing I missed that night.”

  “I already screened it for Uncle Sergio and he didn’t see anything out of the ordinary watching it. Come on, Mom. I know you’re mad I haven’t cleaned my room in over a month but there are laws against torture.”

  “Fine. I won’t make you watch it again. But I’ve got a great idea. Why don’t you let me screen the footage for the next three hours and during that time you can go and clean your room?”

  “I should have kept my big mouth shut,” Dustin sighed, tapping a key on the computer and bringing up the raw footage he shot at the reunion. He pressed another button and Hayley watched as the first few reunion arrivals wandered into the main room of the golf club and made a beeline for the bar.

  Dustin hauled himself to his feet, sighed again to make his displeasure crystal clear, and then stomped up the stairs, resigned to the fact that he was going to be stuck straightening his room for the time being.

  Hayley sat there for almost an hour, glued to the computer screen, as more former classmates poured into the room and hugged and kissed and laughed. At the bar, she spotted Ivy’s husband Nigel nursing a bourbon and making polite small talk with Sabrina and Nykki and Sabrina’s boy toy Mason.

  What was Nigel doing there so early?

  Hayley distinctly remembered him arriving with Ivy and her cupcakes shortly before the murder.

  Then it dawned on her.

  Nigel had driven Nykki over to the reunion first since Ivy was still back at the summer rental kitchen putting the final touches on her cupcakes. Sabrina and Mason had gone to dinner first and were just going to meet them there.

  Hayley remembered Nigel hanging around for a bit before he left to drive back to Seal Harbor and pick up Ivy, who texted him when her cupcakes were boxed and ready.

  Nigel was so unassuming Hayley had completely forgotten about him being there earlier. She studied him closely in order to detect any unusual behavior or clue that he might have had murder on his mind, but Nigel seemed rather non-plussed and unengaged with the whole reunion until the DJ started spinning Gloria Estefan’s 1995 dance classic, “Everlasting Love”. Hayley watched as Nigel swayed from side to side to the beat and tapped his foot, looking around for some unsuspecting dance partner to pass by who he could grab by the arm and sweep out onto the dance floor. Most of the women were already on the arms of other men so his pickings were slim.

  Hayley saw herself in the background, mercifully out of his reach, as she huddled with Mona by the bar.

  Nigel couldn’t help himself anymore. His arms shot up in the air and he began violently swiveling his hips as he slid out into the middle of the crowd dancing like some white disco suited John Travolta wannabe from circa 1977.

  And he was gone.

  Shaking his head from side to side.

  Bumping into anyone who unwittingly invaded his personal space.

  He was caught up in the moment.

  Lost in the beat.

  A few of Hayley’s former classmates watched him in awe, impressed by his utter lack of self-consciousness.

  Good for him for being completely and blissfully unaware of how silly he looked.

  Sweat poured down his brow and he quickly wiped it away with the back of his hand. The song then segued into a thumping beat and Nigel was about to slink off the dance floor but he stopped midway when his foot tapped the floor, suddenly finding the rhythm of the next song as it rose in volume just as Gloria Estefan’s iconic voice faded.

  Nigel’s eyes popped open as he identified the song.

  Madonna’s “Deeper and Deeper”.

  And he was back at it.

  Gyrating and tossing his head back.

  Screeching along with the Pop Princess.

  Unbuttoning the top buttons of his shirt to let some air in so he didn’t sweat so much.

  Hayley let out an audible gasp.

  Underneath his rather staid plaid dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up was a mat of chest hair.

  Black.

  Thick like a forest.

  Hayley hadn’t noticed it before because being the uptight English gentleman he was, his shirts were usually buttoned up to the neck.

  The hair in Nykki’s bed.

  Could it be Nigel’s?

  It was possible that the mysterious phone call Nigel received at the funeral home when he was picking out a casket with Ivy’s sister Irene was Nykki.

  Further proof the two actually were having an affair.

  Hayley paused the footage and grabbed her cell phone.

  She immediately called Sergio.

  “This is Chief Alvares,” Sergio said on the other end.

  His voice was scratchy and kept cutting out.

  Hayley could barely hear him.

  “Sergio? It’s me, Hayley, can you hear me?”

  Nothing.

  Just more crackling.

  “Hayley, I’m behind Dorr Mountain in the park. Near the South Ridge Loop. I have terrible phone reception out here,” she could make out him saying.

  “What are you doing all the way out there?”

  More crackling.

  “Hiker took a bad spill off a lookout point.”

  “Oh no. Was he hurt?”

  “. . . dead . . .”

  “Sergio? Oh god, did you say the hiker died?”

  “Hayley, can you hear me?”

  His voice was finally clear for a few seconds.

  “Yes, Sergio, I can hear you. Was it a tourist?”

  “Your friend . . . killed . . .”

  His voice cut out again.

  “Sergio? What friend? Who are you talking about?”

  He was talking but she couldn’t make out anything he was saying.

  Hayley was growing frustrated and more panicked with each passing second.

  “Who, Sergio? Who? Can you hear me?”

  And then the cell reception gods gave Sergio a few last seconds of clear reception before dropping the call entirely.

  “Nykki Temple.”

  Island Food & Spirits by Hayley Powell

  Yesterday while I was at work I received a reminder call about my upcoming coloring appointment with my hairstylist, Leopoldo (“Leo” for short). I was not about to miss this particular appointment because I certainly don’t want to look as old as I feel at my daughter’s upcoming high school graduation.

  I never show up empty handed for my appointment because it’s always best to keep the man in charge of your hair happy. So when I got home from work I checked the freezer in the garage for my little stockpile of mint chocolate chip ice cream cookies, which are Leo’s favorite summer treat. He has been a big fan ever since I brought them to a Fourth of July barbecue a couple of years ago and he gobbled them all up in less than an hour. Now I make sure to have plenty on hand every time I see him because Leo bailed me out of a huge mess I made for myself a couple of years ago the day before a New Year’s Eve party I was planning on attending.

  I knew Leo left for his annual trip to his homeland in Italy a few days after Christmas every year like clockwork and I had forgotten to squeeze in an appointment before his departure date because of all the pre-holiday shopping and school activities. So I decided this year I would take matters into my own hands and color my own hair.

  Worst. Mistake. Ever.

  Two days before the party, I stopped by the local Rite Aid and, after much perusing and debating with myself, I settled on a pretty medium brunette with subtle golden highlights. One can never have enough highlights, especially during a cold drear
y Maine winter.

  That evening, after dinner and a few rum punch cocktails to relax, I kicked off the process of coloring my hair. After dousing my head and waiting the thirty minutes according to the directions on the box, I indulged in another one of my delicious Green Appletini cocktails to pass the time before washing that gray right out of my hair.

  An hour later, I was blow drying my hair and then I collapsed onto my bed and promptly fell asleep.

  When I awoke in the pre-dawn hours, I headed off to the bathroom, anxious to check out my fabulous new hair color.

  That’s when I let out a blood-curdling scream.

  My kids nearly fell out of their beds and raced to see what horrible fate had befallen their mother. They stopped in the doorway, their mouths agape, their eyes as big as saucers, as I sat on the edge of the tub mumbling in despair.

  “Your hair is green!” Gemma squealed.

  “Actually it’s a bright lime color with specks of brown. Like mint chocolate chip ice cream!”

  Dear Lord, they were right.

  My whole head looked exactly like the mint chocolate chip ice cream I use in my ice cream sandwich cookie recipe!

  My first thought was to call in sick but that wasn’t an option since my boss Sal was out of town that day for a conference. So I tucked my hair up underneath a baseball cap after getting dressed and drove to work, my mind racing, trying to come up with a way to fix this disaster. Leo wasn’t due back until just before Valentine’s Day!

  I called the salon, and after much begging and a last minute late afternoon cancellation due to the snowstorm about to hit town, one of Leo’s girls managed to fit me in and assured me she could dye my hair back to normal.

  Finally a light at the end of the tunnel.

  Albeit a bright green light.

  Later that afternoon, as I slid into the salon chair amidst some gentle ribbing and chuckles from the staff, I closed my eyes and prayed my muddy brown color would soon return.

  Suddenly my eyes popped open at the sound of a loud outburst of laughter followed by a thud as if someone had just fallen to the floor. There was Leo rolling on the hardwood floor of the salon in a fit of giggles after taking one look at my bright green chocolate chip mint hair!

  Apparently, Leo’s flight had been delayed a day due to the snowstorm brewing outside and he had just dropped by to check on things at the salon.

  Totally embarrassed, I begged for his forgiveness and promised never to try anything like this ever again! He graciously accepted my apology on the condition that I swing by the following day with a plate of my ice cream sandwich cookies because the color of my hair was making him crave them!

  I learned two important things that day.

  1.Never, ever cheat on your hairdresser or you will be sorry.

  2.If you’re in a bind and have to color your own hair never have a Green Appletini or two before you open the bottle.

  So my advice this week is to take some time for yourself and try my delicious Green Appletini while also enjoying some of my Mint Chocolate Chip Ice Cream Sandwiches. Just make sure there isn’t a bottle of hair dye anywhere within reach!

  Green Appletini

  Ingredients:

  1½ ounces Green Apple Vodka

  1½ ounces Sour Apple Pucker

  Schnapps

  In a drink mixer add ice, vodka and schnapps. Mix well and pour into a chilled martini glass and enjoy.

  Mint Chocolate Chip Ice Cream Sandwiches

  Cookie Ingredients:

  ½ cup room temperature butter

  ½ cup white sugar

  ½ cup brown sugar

  1 large egg

  1 teaspoon vanilla

  ¼ teaspoon salt

  1¼ cups flour

  6 tablespoons unsweetened cocoa

  powder

  ½ teaspoon baking powder

  Pint of Mint Chocolate Chip ice

  cream

  Preheat your oven to 350 degrees and place parchment paper on two baking sheets.

  In large bowl add the butter and sugars and cream together until light and fluffy.

  Add the egg, vanilla, and salt and mix well.

  In a separate bowl whisk together the cocoa powder, baking soda then add this to the wet ingredients and mix well. The batter will be thick. Drop rounded tablespoons of batter on the prepared baking sheets and bake 10 to 13 minutes until cookies are puffed and dry on top.

  Scoop out rounded balls of ice cream to fit cookies and put on pan and freeze until ready to use.

  When cookies are cooled remove ice cream balls from freezer and with your hand flatten a bit to fit between two cookies. Enjoy right away or wrap them up to enjoy later.

  Chapter 22

  “Bruce, for the record I have zero interest in listening to you theorize about anything least of all about what you think happened to Nykki Temple,” Hayley said while fanning her fingers through her recipe files in order to select an appropriate dish for tomorrow’s column that she still had to put to bed before leaving the office.

  “Come on, Hayley, hear me out. You know you want to,” Bruce said, slurping his fourth cup of coffee in an hour while hovering behind Hayley and peering over her shoulder to get a good look at her computer screen.

  Hayley spun around in her office chair and waved an admonishing finger in his face. “Stop trying to sneak a peek at what I’m working on! It’s just a Food & Cocktails column. I am not secretly working on my own high school reunion murder story, okay, Bruce? You don’t have to worry!”

  “With your personal connection, it would make sense for you to try and write the definitive piece, and well, there’s really no room for two true crime books on the subject, right?”

  “Right, Bruce,” Hayley said, barely acknowledging him with a sideways glance.

  “I’m sure you’re aware that the whole town is buzzing about who Nykki was hiking with on Dorr Mountain when she allegedly slipped on some loose rocks and fell to her death,” Bruce said, pouring himself another cup of coffee from the machine in the corner while keeping one eye trained on Hayley for her reaction.

  Hayley remained non-plussed, barely participating in the conversation. “I’ve heard rumors.”

  “It’s more than just rumors. She was with Ivy Foster’s husband Nigel.”

  “Yes, I may have heard that,” Hayley said, plucking a three by five note card out of the red plastic box that served as her recipe file and placing it down on the desk.

  She began typing ingredients into her computer.

  “Nobody in their right mind believes her death was an accident,” Bruce said, emptying the coffee pot and setting it back down in the maker.

  “Well, luckily it’s not up to anybody in their right mind to decide anything. It’s up to Sergio and his officers to finish the police investigation so why don’t we wait until they tell us what actually happened?”

  “Don’t be so coy. I know your mind is racing as fast as mine,” Bruce said.

  “Bruce, how many times have I told you to take the coffee pot into the kitchen and wash it out when it’s empty.”

  “I thought that was your job as office manager to clean up after everybody,” Bruce said smugly.

  Hayley glared at him so long and hard Bruce flinched, suddenly nervous. He crossed back over and snatched up the empty coffee pot.

  “Fine. I’ll do it,” he said quietly as he headed back to the kitchenette off the bullpen in the back of the office. He stopped in the doorway. “Admit it, Hayley. You know as well as I do what happened. Nigel murdered his wife Ivy in order to be with Nykki, with whom he was having an affair, right?”

  Hayley didn’t answer him.

  She just continued typing ingredients from her written card into her computer file.

  “But then, Nykki, who maybe was aware of the plan to kill Ivy, or better yet, might have even participated in it, suddenly started to feel guilty. Yeah, that’s right. Maybe she even wanted to go to the cops!”

  Hayley couldn’t help but
listen to Bruce as much as she tried to make it look like she wasn’t even remotely interested in hearing what he had to say. But she would be lying to herself if she didn’t admit the same thoughts had already crossed her mind.

  Still, she was not about to give Bruce Linney any satisfaction.

  “So now Nigel was in a pickle. If Nykki talked to the cops, then he would be arrested and tried for the murder of his wife. But if something happened to Nykki before she had a chance to sing like a bird, then he would be in the clear. That’s why he talked her into going on a pleasant hike up Dorr Mountain in the park. It was a beautiful day. The view from up there is spectacular. What a perfect opportunity. She never slipped on any loose rocks! He pushed her! To stop her from exposing what he had done to Ivy! It makes total sense!”

  Hayley loathed to agree with Bruce.

  It seemed plausible.

  But she never blinked.

  Never even looked his way.

  She would bite off her own tongue before she told Bruce his theory sounded logical.

  Why feed his monstrous ego?

  It also did not explain Vanda Spears.

  Where did she come in?

  Did she somehow discover the affair and was blackmailing Nykki?

  Was it possible that Vanda walked into the kitchen at the golf club and witnessed Nigel or Nykki or both bludgeon poor Ivy to death?

  But Nykki was in the main room most of the night.

  Nobody saw her go near the kitchen.

  She was with Sabrina the whole time.

  And what about Sabrina?

  Why was she so spooked by Vanda Spears?

  What made her so afraid of a crazy homeless woman?

  As much as Bruce’s story added it all up, there were still many missing pieces left.

  Despite the fact that her own ego was dwarfed by the size of Bruce’s, Hayley was still smart enough to know that she would be better and faster than Bruce at finding those key pieces that would finally finish the puzzle.