by Lee Hollis
“I was going to spend my lunch hour writing Bruce’s column about Bessie Winthrop’s death.”
“Why? It’s not a crime.”
“Well, we don’t know that. And now we never will, since the county coroner refuses to do an autopsy on her,” Hayley said.
Sal shook his head. “Bessie died of natural causes. Sabrina is certain of it.”
Sabrina Merryweather was the county coroner—not to mention the mean girl who tortured Hayley all through high school. In recent years Sabrina had forgotten all about her abhorrent behavior toward Hayley when they were teenagers. Now she considered Hayley to be one of her closest friends. Hayley went along with the charade because every corpse in town eventually wound up on Sabrina’s examining table, and Sabrina was a font of information whenever circumstances forced Hayley to investigate a local dead body independently. Hayley was fast gaining a reputation around town not only as an amateur chef, but also as Bar Harbor’s very own Miss Marple.
“So, are you coming or what?” Sal asked. There was a gruff tone to his voice that Hayley chalked up to hunger, since she could hear his stomach growling clear across the room.
“No, I’m going to hang out here and get some work done.”
Sal pointed to a white box, with a pink ribbon tied around it, which was sitting on top of her desk. They were the special chocolates Bessie had made for her right before she died. After Police Chief Sergio Alvares conducted a thorough sweep through the whole house and determined Bessie’s death was not a homicide, he allowed Hayley to take the box home with her. She didn’t want them. She was never going to eat another piece of chocolate as long as she lived. But she also didn’t want to appear ungrateful and callous; after all, Bessie had put her heart and soul into making those chocolates, and the least she could do was graciously accept them.
“Well, don’t eat too many of those. I don’t want to hear you whining all afternoon about how you need to eat more healthy after you finish the whole box.”
“Says the man who is on his way out for a burger, with everything on it, and fried onion rings.”
“Don’t tell my wife. I have to load up at lunchtime because she’s got me on this cockamamie diet. She’s force-feeding me every lousy night a crappy piece of salmon and a tiny, little side salad that wouldn’t satisfy a blue jay. My life sucks!”
Sal blew out the door.
The second he was gone, Hayley picked up the phone and called Sabrina Merryweather at her office.
“Hey, girlfriend!” Sabrina chirped, picking up on the first ring. “I saw it was the Island Times on my caller ID, so I knew it was my bestie checking up on me. When are we having a girls’ night with you, me, and Liddy?”
Sabrina knew not to include Mona, since Mona was the type to say what she was thinking, and had told Sabrina on multiple social occasions exactly what she thought of Sabrina. Much of it involved four-letter words.
“I miss you!” Sabrina cooed. “You never call me!”
Hayley mentally envisioned Sabrina making her cute, pouty face that got her lots of dates with football players in high school and straight A’s from most of the male teachers. It was still highly effective.
Just not with Hayley.
“I’m calling you now.”
“You want something. I can always tell,” Sabrina said, sighing.
“What kind of friend would I be if I only called when I wanted something?”
“So you’re just calling to say hi?” Sabrina asked suspiciously.
“Yes. I want to hear all about what’s going on with you.”
“Well, my husband’s away at some artists’ colony, which I’m paying for, of course, and, frankly, I couldn’t be happier. I’ve just been going home after work at night, pouring myself a glass of wine, and taking a bubble bath. It’s been sheer heaven. I’m going through brochures now, trying to find an even longer artists’ retreat—say in Hawaii—which lasts something like three weeks that I can send him away to next month. What about you?”
“My daughter’s not speaking to me. I’m overwhelmed at work writing two separate columns. . . .” Hayley paused for maximum effect. “Then there’s the death of my dear friend Bessie Winthrop.”
“I didn’t know you were friends with her.”
“Yes, Bessie and I have gotten very close the past couple of weeks.”
“Really? That’s surprising. I can’t picture you two together.”
But she could picture Hayley being her close friend. Even after Sabrina had spread vicious, false rumors senior year about Hayley having been impregnated by the janitor’s slow assistant—a guy with bug eyes and a constantly runny nose. Sabrina certainly had no trouble picturing that.
Hayley tried to keep her emotions in check. Sabrina was right. She did need something, and she wasn’t about to blow her chance to get it.
Hayley proceeded with caution. “I suppose you heard that I was the one who found the body.”
“Honey pie, don’t you stumble across every dead body in town? I mean, let’s face it, girl, this is becoming a huge pattern.”
“I just can’t believe she’s gone.”
“I can,” Sabrina said, snorting. “She was a walking time bomb.”
“She may have been a little overweight, but—”
“A little? Hayley, she was at least a hundred pounds overweight! And I’m looking at her medical charts right now. She had untreated high blood pressure, was prediabetic, and had a massive blockage in her arteries. It’s no wonder she keeled over. Frankly, I’m shocked it didn’t happen sooner.”
“Is that why you’re not going to perform an autopsy?”
“How did you know that?”
“Sal told me.”
There was a long pause.
“Sabrina, you still there?”
“I knew you were just calling to get the 411 on Bessie,” Sabrina said.
“No, that’s not true,” Hayley lied. “In fact, I was calling to find out when you were free for that drink.”
“Really?” Sabrina said, totally unconvinced.
“Yes. I swear on the life of Mark Harmon, and you know how much I love him!”
“Wow! You really are serious,” Sabrina said, giggling.
Hayley felt it was safer not to mention that although she still adored Mark Harmon, she was currently lusting after LL Cool J, the rapper with all those muscles, who starred on that other NCIS show that followed sexy Mark’s.
“Okay,” Sabrina said. “I’m free tomorrow night.”
“Tomorrow?”
Hayley wasn’t sure she was up to seeing Sabrina that soon.
“Yes, Hayley, tomorrow. I’m waiting for an answer. Are you serious about wanting to spend some quality time together?”
Hayley was boxed into a corner.
She had to commit.
“Yes. Absolutely. Let’s say seven-thirty. My brother Randy’s bar.”
“Done. And don’t you even think about canceling.”
Sabrina hung up.
Hayley groaned to herself.
A drink with Sabrina.
She’d rather be undergoing a root canal.
But it was for the good of the cause.
Still, the thought of a girls’ night out with Sabrina was very stressful. And stress always made Hayley ravenous. She had to eat something pronto. But the only food around was Bessie’s box of chocolates.
Damn.
She should’ve gone with Sal for that burger when she had the chance.
Hayley found herself unwrapping the pink ribbon from around the box and perusing the selection inside. She picked one up, examined it, made sure there wasn’t any cat hair sticking out of it, and ate it.
It melted in her mouth.
And no taste of fur.
Hallelujah.
She ate another one.
These candies were delectably delicious.
Hayley could see these actually selling.
Big-time.
A wave of sadness washed over her. B
essie had finally concocted a winning recipe—one that would have undoubtedly put her on the map. Now she was never going to live to see it.
Sadness also made Hayley hungry.
So she kept diving into the box of chocolates.
As she bit into the fifth one, her luck ran out.
There was something inside it.
But it wasn’t cat hair.
It was harder.
Like chewing paper.
Hayley pulled it out of her mouth. She was right. It was a small, crumpled-up piece of paper that had been stuffed inside the candy.
She set it down on her desk and flattened it out.
Hayley gasped.
Scrawled on the piece of paper in pen were the words I think someone is trying to kill me.
Chapter 14
Hayley knew the note was meant for her. Bessie had made that box of Hayley’s Kisses especially for her. That’s why she was so anxious for Hayley to pick them up.
But why?
Why couldn’t she just tell her about her suspicion?
Was she afraid her phone was bugged?
Or someone was watching her?
And who would want to murder Bessie?
On second thought, was there anyone in town who didn’t want to murder Bessie?
Sergio was done with his investigation.
Natural causes.
Sabrina was finished with her findings.
Natural causes.
Even if Hayley showed up at both their offices with the small scrap of paper she nearly chewed up and swallowed, it wouldn’t be enough to change their minds.
No.
This was something Hayley was going to have to pursue on her own.
Again.
And she could start by going over to Bessie’s house and searching for clues. Maybe Bessie left another note, some kind of sign, anything that might indicate who might have gone to such desperate measures to get rid of her.
And just how did he or she do it?
Sabrina was snotty and two-faced, but she was pretty damn good at her job. Hayley did not doubt for a second that Bessie was battling a multitude of health problems. But with no autopsy, then whatever method the killer might have used would be buried with Bessie forever.
And someone in Bessie’s life would be getting away with murder.
Hayley reached into her bag and rummaged around, finally finding the key to Bessie’s house, which Bessie had given her. She knew Sal would be gone for at least another forty-five minutes. Bessie’s house was just a few blocks away from the office.
Hayley sprung to her feet, grabbed her coat, and hurried out the door.
When she arrived at Bessie’s house and let herself in, using the key, she was once again overcome by the stench of kitty litter. The only difference was there were no mangy cats roaming about. She had heard through Randy, who was told by his partner, Sergio, that all the cats had been removed and were currently at the handsome, new vet Dr. Palmer’s office being medically treated before, hopefully, being put up for adoption. Dr. Aaron Palmer.
What a kind, sweet, giving man.
And so good-looking.
His wife was a very lucky woman.
Hayley stopped herself.
She wasn’t here to moon over Aaron.
Or Dr. Palmer.
She wasn’t that familiar with him to be on a first-name basis.
She was here to look for anything that might suggest Bessie’s death was not from natural causes.
Hayley started with the drawers in the kitchen, opening one to find a tray of rusty, smudged old utensils, another one to find the last remnants of some spare plastic wrap and tinfoil. She moved to another row and the top one was some kind of mail drawer stuffed with unpaid parking tickets, unopened bills, legal documents, and paperwork. She quickly fanned through the stack, her eyes focusing on a piece of paper issued by the local court. It was a restraining order taken out against one of Bessie’s ex-boyfriends, Wolf Conway. Well, that wasn’t a surprise. He was the size of a Mack truck and very intimidating. And he sure didn’t seem to like Bessie very much.
A red folder caught her eye. She flipped it open and perused the contents. It was from the office of Ted Rivers, a local lawyer whose office was upstairs from Liddy’s real estate firm. Hayley skimmed the document. It appeared Bessie was embroiled in a lawsuit with her neighbors Mark and Mary Garber. Hayley knew them casually. They had moved to Bar Harbor from Rhode Island after visiting Bar Harbor one summer and falling in love with the island and its lifestyle. Hayley folded up the paper and slid it into the pocket of her jeans and continued her search.
Hayley walked up the creaky stairs to Bessie’s bedroom. Dirty, wrinkled clothes were strewn about. A wall mirror above the dresser was so smudged that Hayley couldn’t even see her own reflection. There was makeup powder everywhere; cans of hair spray were on the floor; the bed was smelly and unmade. Hayley didn’t need to eat a lot of chocolate to feel nauseous again.
She glanced at a digital camera lying next to a Garfield lamp on a side table next to the bed. Bessie certainly was a big fan of the cartoon cat. She picked up the camera, switched it on, and started scrolling through the photos. Hayley was shocked to discover about twenty-five pictures of Cody Donovan, the loan officer from the bank, in bed with a woman whose face was hidden in the shadows. She couldn’t see the woman’s face, but she certainly had shapely legs. And on her wrist was a very distinctive gold poppy bangle, with a polished band of sterling silver. It was right in front of the camera lens because the woman was holding a fistful of Cody’s hair as he made love to her. Even though Hayley could not identify her, the woman was most definitely not Cody’s uptight and jealous wife, Kerry. It looked as if the photos had been taken from outside a first-story bedroom window.
It was obviously Bessie who had taken the photos.
And did Cody know about them?
Hayley was just about finished looking through the photos, and was about to head to the storage closet she had spotted just down the hall from the bedroom, when suddenly she heard a creaking sound.
And then another.
Someone was coming up the stairs.
Slowly.
Hayley stood frozen in place.
She held her breath.
Creak.
The intruder continued his ascent.
Faster now.
Like he was charging toward her.
Hayley dropped the camera on the floor and scooted into the bathroom, quietly closing the door and looking around. There was no window to slip out, nowhere to go. She heard the intruder walking around in the bedroom. It was only a matter of seconds before he came into the bathroom.
Hayley pulled open the medicine cabinet, hoping to find some kind of weapon. If only she had picked up the can of hair spray in the other room, the aerosol would have made a decent pepper spray if she got him directly in the eyes.
The door handle to the bathroom jiggled. Hayley climbed into the bathtub and closed the curtain. She pressed herself up against the tile wall as the door banged open and someone entered.
She heard heavy breathing.
God, what a way to go.
What if the guy had a knife? Like in Psycho. She always felt so sorry for Janet Leigh in that movie. Everyone makes a few mistakes in life, but poor Janet’s crime was stealing a few lousy bucks from her office and having an affair with a hunky, shirtless stud. Big deal. Did she really have to pay for it with her life at the hands of a crazy, cross-dressing, mother-loving Tony Perkins? Well, Norman Bates. Tony Perkins was probably a very nice person just playing a nutcase.
The intruder crossed to the shower.
She could see his outline through the curtain.
Tall.
Broad-shouldered.
Hayley saw the man grab a fistful of the curtain.
She squeezed her eyes shut and prayed.
The curtain was flung open and Hayley let out a scream.
“Hayley?”
Hayley popped
open one eye.
It wasn’t Norman Bates.
It was Sergio. Her brother Randy’s partner.
And Bar Harbor’s esteemed police chief.
His gun was drawn and he had a grim look on his face.
Hayley decided to make the best of a potentially disastrous situation. She gave him her brightest smile. “Sergio! Now this is a happy coincidence! What are you doing here?”
Sergio didn’t return the smile.
At that moment Hayley knew she was in big trouble.
Chapter 15
Randy nervously popped open a bottle of Coppola Merlot and poured three glasses. Hayley was seated on the couch in the living room of the sprawling oceanside New England house that Randy and Sergio shared.
Sergio was stoking the flames in the fireplace with a poker and then turned to Hayley; the poker was aimed at her as if about to impale her.
“You going to use that thing on me?” Hayley asked.
“No. But someone needs to pound some sense into you,” Sergio said sternly. But his thick Brazilian accent even made the angriest comment seem sexy.
“I’m sorry,” Hayley said. “I wasn’t thinking.”
Randy balanced three glasses of red wine and set one down on the coffee table in front of Hayley. He sipped from another as he delivered the third one to Sergio, who put the poker back in the cast-iron fireplace-tool stand.
“She’s always had a nosy nature. I don’t know where she gets that from,” Randy said.
Sergio stared at him, the irony not lost on him. “It must run in the family.”
“How did you know I was there?” Hayley asked.
“Mary Garber was in her yard replacing one of her storm windows and she saw someone moving around inside Bessie Winthrop’s place next door.”
“She didn’t see that it was just me?”
“No, Hayley, and even if she did, you were breaking and entering. She did the right thing by calling the police.”
“Is it technically breaking and entering if the owner of the house is no longer among the living?” Randy asked, trying to be helpful.