Death of a Chocoholic

by Lee Hollis

  “He won’t be back in the office until tomorrow morning around seven. I can put you in the book if you’d like to come back.”

  “Does that mean I have to attempt to put Blueberry back in the carrier? He’s not very cooperative.”

  Marla stood up from her desk and effortlessly set Blueberry down in the carrier and shut the door, locking the latch again.

  “I . . . I’ve never seen him like this,” Hayley said, shaking her head.

  “You just have to know how to handle them,” Marla said. “Now, your cat seems perfectly healthy to me. What seems to be the problem?”

  “He’s having bladder issues,” Hayley said.

  “I see, well, that might be something more psychological,” Marla said, an accusing look in her eye. “Is everything okay at home?”

  Hayley didn’t like the idea of a girl who wasn’t even interested in going to vet school insinuating it was somehow Hayley’s fault that Blueberry was peeing all over her house.

  But Hayley held her tongue.

  “Everything’s fine at home.”

  Why mention her depressed daughter, her rattled Shih Tzu, and her double workload at the office? No way was she going to give this girl any ammunition to use against her.

  “Okay, then. The doctor will see you and Blueberry tomorrow morning. He will be in at seven.”

  “In the morning?”

  “Yes. He’s a morning person. And a very hard worker. Just be sure to give us twenty-four hours’ notice if you need to cancel. Otherwise, we charge you half the normal fee for a consultation.”

  “But it’s already close to six-thirty. The appointment is in twelve and a half hours.”

  “I guess you should really try to be here on time, then,” Marla said with a sweet, insincere smile.

  Hayley returned an equally sweet and insincere smile and lifted the carrier.

  As she turned to leave, Blueberry hissed and took a swipe at her through the cage with his claws.

  Hayley glanced back at Marla, who raised one eyebrow, her face full of judgment.

  Chapter 19

  Hayley kept her promise to meet Sabrina at Drinks Like A Fish that evening. She was well aware that the tension between them would be palpable, given the fact she had forced Sal to post her story online that afternoon, and Sabrina would no doubt have seen it. And even if she hadn’t, someone would have read it and called or e-mailed her.

  Sure enough.

  When Hayley walked through the door, she spotted Sabrina sitting atop a bar stool, nursing a gin and tonic, furiously shaking her straw up and down in the ice, grimacing.

  No one was tending bar.

  Hayley assumed Randy and his bartender, Michelle, were hiding in the back office to avoid Sabrina’s wrath.

  Hayley bravely marched forward, steeling herself for the inevitable confrontation.

  When out of the corner of her eye Sabrina caught sight of Hayley approaching, she whipped around on the stool to face her.

  “What a pretty blouse,” Hayley said, hoping a simple, innocent compliment might defuse the tension.

  No such luck.

  “Are you trying to ruin me, Hayley? Is that it? Are you still jealous of me, like you were in high school?”

  Hayley couldn’t remember ever being jealous of Sabrina, but there was no sense in arguing with her.

  “Is this about the column I wrote regarding Bessie Winthrop’s death?”

  “No, Hayley, this is about you borrowing my Backstreet Boys CD and not returning it! Of course this is about the damn column you wrote! You have compromised my professional reputation!”

  “I think that may be an overstatement, don’t you think, Sabrina?”

  “You basically called me incompetent for not conducting an autopsy on Bessie Winthrop!”

  “I did no such thing. I merely suggested that in order for her friends and family to get absolute closure, an autopsy might not be a bad idea.”

  “What friends and family? Everybody hated her!”

  “Not me. I liked Bessie,” Hayley said, feeling someone needed to stand up for Bessie.

  Sabrina jumped off the bar stool and got right up into Hayley’s face. She was almost a foot taller, but Hayley wasn’t worried. She had always been a scrappy fighter. She knew she could take her if it came to that.

  “Well, for your information, Hayley, I spent my entire afternoon having Bessie’s body transferred back to me from the funeral home and spending county funds my department doesn’t have conducting a preliminary autopsy on her.”

  Hayley was thrilled. Her column did the trick. It forced Sabrina to get off her butt and take Bessie’s death seriously.

  “And?”

  “And you were right. Somebody did kill Bessie.”

  Hayley gasped.

  She was right.

  Finally.

  Sabrina was confirming her suspicions.

  “I knew it!”

  “And I know who did it,” Sabrina said, taking a step back from Hayley, grabbing her drink off the bar and downing it.

  “Who?”

  “Bessie. Bessie killed herself, but it wasn’t a suicide. No, Bessie’s own bad choices killed her. She didn’t take care of herself. She didn’t exercise. She ate way too many fats and sugar and processed foods.”

  Hayley frowned.

  “She had a heart attack, Hayley. I knew it from the moment I opened her up. You should have seen how clogged her arteries were. It was disgusting.”

  “But Bessie wrote me a note. She was afraid someone was trying to kill her.”

  “Maybe that’s true, but he or she didn’t have the chance to get the job done before Bessie’s body gave out. I’m sorry to disappoint you, Hayley, but there is absolutely no foul play involved here.”

  “I’m sorry I doubted you, Sabrina,” Hayley said, waving at Randy, who poked his head out the swinging kitchen doors to see if Sabrina was still in the bar.

  “I used to think it was cute that you fancied yourself some kind of amateur sleuth, investigating local murders, but let me tell you something. It stopped being cute the minute your shenanigans put my reputation as a county official on the line. From here on in, please leave the crime scenes to the professionals. Are we clear?”

  Hayley nodded.

  “Really, Hayley, I know you looked up to me and all my accomplishments in high school. Cheerleader, drama club, student council vice president, fluent in five different languages, and third runner-up in the Miss Maine Teen USA Pageant. And I am acutely aware that some of that acclaim may have rubbed you the wrong way. I saw that resentful look in your eye as you watched me being crowned prom queen in that Christian Dior dress my gay uncle sent to me from New York as my graduation present. But seriously, honey, it’s time to let go.”

  And with that, Sabrina grabbed Hayley by the arm, pulled her close, and planted a kiss on her cheek. “Call me when you’ve gotten over all this and we can try to be friends again. I still think the world of you.”

  Sabrina spun around and sashayed out the door.

  There was a lot Hayley wanted to tell her. Like she wasn’t even in the school gym when Sabrina was crowned prom queen. She was outside on the athletic field doing tequila shots with Mona and Liddy and their dates.

  But why stain Sabrina’s obviously happy, totally skewed memories of how Hayley lived in her shadow?

  Hayley was more interested in proving Sabrina wrong. It would be an uphill battle. An autopsy was certainly conclusive evidence. However, a voice inside Hayley kept screaming at her that there was more to Bessie’s death than heart disease.

  And now she was more determined than ever to get to the bottom of it.

  Island Food & Spirits by Hayley Powell

  Last night I was rifling through my old recipe file and I came across one that made me smile. Or at least it does now. Last summer . . . not so much.

  It was right during the middle of tourist season on the island, and I read in the paper that one of my all-time favorite chefs from the Fo
od Network was actually coming to Bar Harbor to hold a one-day cooking class. Well, needless to say, I immediately registered online for the class. There was no way I was going to miss an opportunity to meet my favorite kitchen master up close and personal.

  Chef Carlos Ferucci was a guest chef on TV all the time and his handsome Italian good looks and sizzling sex appeal made him a favorite among women from all over the world. Many times I fell asleep on the couch while watching one of his shows, dreaming of the two of us cooking up a storm together . . . among other things.

  Chef Carlos also owned a five-star restaurant in Portland, Maine, named L’aragosta (which sounds so sexy when he says it, but it really only means “lobster” in Italian). Everyone on the island who made the trip to Portland always tried to secure reservations and dine in his posh restaurant, which had become famous for the surprise twists in his Italian dishes.

  There was no menu when dining at L’aragosta. You were served whatever original dish Chef Carlos created specially for that evening, which just added to the excitement. Well, that and watching him glide around the restaurant making sure all the diners were enjoying their mouthwatering meals.

  The girls and I were lucky enough to get a table one night about a year ago during a shopping trip to Portland. I must admit when I saw him in person, I was a goner. He was even more handsome in person than on television!

  When the day of the class finally arrived, I was the first to show up at the local Bar Harbor restaurant hosting his class. Eventually the other five women who also signed up arrived. I didn’t know any of them. They were all summer residents, and much older than me. When Chef Carlos breezed through the door and said in his deep, sexy, Italian-accented voice, “Buongiorno,” I batted my eyes like a schoolgirl with a big crush. That was the moment I became determined to get this big hunk of beef to notice me with my cool attitude and mad cooking skills.

  Chef Carlos got right down to business and requested that we all choose four ingredients that we felt did not go together and bring them back to our respective stations. I very carefully chose anchovies, bread crumbs, dried chili peppers, and chocolate.

  Chef Carlos then surprised us. He ordered everyone to prepare a dish for him in sixty minutes. We were allowed to use other ingredients from the kitchen, but the four items we chose were mandatory for our dish. My eyes bugged out of my head! This was just like that Food Network show Chopped, and I definitely had not signed up for that at all! I never saw this coming! I glanced over at the other women, who had sly smiles on their faces. All of them suspected what the chef was up to, so they managed to pick predictable items such as canned tomato sauce, onions, green peppers, chicken. Everything to prepare the perfect pasta meal!

  Chef Carlos yelled, “Go!” The other ladies scrambled off, giggling and laughing, to fetch whatever else would complement their dish. I just stared miserably at my chosen ingredients. This was going to be a disaster! I had no chance of winning!

  I wish I could tell you I was the underdog who came up from behind to win the contest with my unique pasta creation! Sadly, however, it was not meant to be. When Chef Carlos got to my chocolate pasta with anchovies dish, he carefully took a bite, chewed, and looked deep into my eyes. I wanted to melt, but not in a good way. I wanted to melt and disappear into the floor. He then placed his fork down and, without a word, moved on to the next person, ultimately declaring Muffy’s chicken artichoke pasta the winner.

  Well, a few months later while I was preparing dinner, I was half listening to the television, which, of course, was tuned to the Food Network. As I was getting ready to place the meat loaf on the counter to cool, I heard a familiar, sexy, Italian-accented voice say, “This week I want to prepare ‘Chef Carlos’s Chocolate Pasta with Anchovies,’ which is the number one best-selling dish in my restaurant.” I let out a scream so loud that poor Leroy jumped down from the couch and raced out of the room. I dropped the meat loaf on the floor and ran to stand in front of the television, staring in disbelief as I watched Chef Carlos add all of the ingredients I had used that day to make my own chocolate pasta dish.

  Now, I understand if you don’t believe me, but I swear it’s true. I guess I should just be flattered that a famous chef thought my culinary disaster was such a tasty dish that it is now the most popular item on the menu in his world-famous restaurant.

  If ever there was a time for something to calm the nerves, this was it. I retrieved my new bottle of Marenco Pineto Bra-chetto d’Acqui, a sweet, sparkling red wine from Piedmont, which I had picked up at House Wine on Main Street on my way home that evening. I popped the cork and poured myself a glass. Raising it high into the air, I said, “Salute, Chef Ferucci! Until we meet again!”

  Chef Carlos’s Chocolate

  Pasta with Anchovies

  Ingredients

  1 pound penne pasta (or your

  favorite pasta)

  3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil

  2 cloves garlic, chopped

  2 dried chili peppers, chopped

  8 anchovies, minced

  2 cups good dark chocolate (at

  least 70%), chopped

  ½ cup fine bread crumbs

  Fresh parsley, chopped for garnish

  In a large pot of salted boiling water, cook your penne. While pasta is cooking, in another saucepan, heat the olive oil on medium. Reduce to medium-low heat and add your garlic, being careful not to burn it. Sauté your garlic, add the chili peppers and anchovies. Cook until the garlic is golden and anchovies have almost dissolved. Add your chocolate. Stir until melted, then add the bread crumbs.

  Just before your pasta is al dente, drain and add to the saucepan. Stir it all together, until mixed very well. Serve, topping with the fresh parsley.

  As they say in Italy, “Mangia!”

  Chapter 20

  The following morning when Hayley drove Blueberry back over to the vet’s office for his appointment, Dr. Palmer still wasn’t in. Marla instructed Hayley to fill out the necessary paperwork and told her she could pick up Blueberry on her lunch hour. If the doctor prescribed medication and it wasn’t ready, Hayley could always stop by after work.

  Hayley felt she was leaving Blueberry in good hands.

  Especially since he was licking Marla’s fingers.

  What on earth did he like about her so much?

  Hayley then raced home, yelled at the kids to get up and get dressed, and then jumped into the bathtub for a fast shower before heading off to work. The water was cold and she shivered as she lathered up with bodywash. She prayed there wasn’t something wrong with the water heater. After rinsing off, she shut off the water and stepped out of the tub, grabbing a plush white towel off the rack to dry herself.

  She suddenly heard loud guffaws coming from downstairs.

  She ran the towel over her wet, matted hair, shook it out, and then pulled on her robe. She tied it around her waist and opened the bathroom door. She popped her head out.

  Hayley heard Dustin gasping for air as if he was unable to breathe.

  “Is everything all right down there?”

  Dustin was still gasping.

  “Dustin?”

  “Everything’s fine,” Gemma shouted before erupting into a fit of giggles.

  Hayley couldn’t believe it.

  Gemma was laughing at something.

  Finally a crack in the armor.

  Some humor to bring her back to a semblance of normalcy.

  Perhaps whatever was bothering her had finally been resolved.

  Her kids were actually bonding over something ridiculously funny, and she was grateful for that.

  Hayley slid on her fuzzy slippers and shuffled down the stairs to see what TV show she had to thank for snapping her daughter out of her doldrums.

  The television in the living room was shut off when Hayley hit the landing. She veered toward the kitchen, where the kids were seated at the table, staring at Dustin’s iPad.

  Dustin tried taking a sip of juice, but then his eye caught
something on the screen. He spit it out, dribbling juice all down the front of his t-shirt.

  Hayley couldn’t help but laugh herself. She rarely saw her kids so hysterical.

  She turned the iPad toward her to get a look at what was entertaining them so much.

  Her face froze.

  It was a YouTube video.

  The ill-fated taping of Bessie Winthrop’s chocolate-baking segment.

  And at two minutes and thirty-five seconds into the video, Hayley was throwing up brown goop all over the place and wreaking havoc on the set.

  “Oh, dear God, no!” Hayley cried.

  “You’re a YouTube sensation, Mom! Already forty thousand hits!” Dustin said, eyes wide, totally impressed. “That’s awesome!”

  “Forty thousand?” Hayley said, her heart sinking.

  Dustin tapped a key. “I just refreshed the page. Now you’re up to sixty-two thousand!”

  Hayley slammed her fist down on the kitchen table. “Those little punks! They promised to erase this take.”

  “Mom, you can’t blame them. This is pure gold! It’s all about racking up hits on their channel. They couldn’t keep something this great under wraps!”

  Now that Hayley was in the room, Gemma was making a concerted effort not to smile or laugh anymore. However, as her eyes drifted back toward the iPad screen, she couldn’t help herself. She couldn’t hold it in. She buried her face in her hands and let loose, howling.

  “This isn’t happening. Do you think a lot of local people have seen this?”