by Lee Hollis
“Danny, wait!”
Island Food & Spirits by Hayley Powell
There is nothing I enjoy more on a chilly fall evening in October than a good hearty bowl of Pumpkin Soup. Even better than that, there is nothing I enjoy more to drink while preparing my soup than a strong Pumpkin Cocktail.
So as I downed my cocktail and gathered my ingredients, I was reminded of a woeful tale that happened years ago when I made my very first batch of Pumpkin Soup. Eager to have some taste tasters try my first attempt, I told my husband at the time, Danny, to invite over his uncle Otis and his wife, Tori, since our kids were at the time visiting their grandmother in Florida. Otis, who didn’t get invited to many places because of his aversion to soap and bathwater, was thrilled and even offered to bring us a few pumpkins that he recently “acquired.”
When Danny announced Otis had offered us free pumpkins he “acquired” I was immediately suspicious. Otis, who had a long record of run-ins with the law during his youth and some years beyond, was not to be trusted. And in my mind, “acquired” was just a fancy word for stolen!
Danny insisted Otis had turned over a new leaf and was now a law-abiding citizen, and his past transgressions were just that . . . in the past. So I relented and they showed up at the house in their beat-up Ford truck twenty minutes later.
Danny ran outside to help Otis with the pumpkins while Tori joined me in the kitchen for one of my signature Pumpkin Cocktails.
A whole hour passed as Tori polished off three of my cocktails all the while complaining about her deadbeat husband who made her life miserable. She hardly took a breath except to slurp down her drink.
The soup was bubbling on the stove ready to be served and after another round of cocktails we were fresh out of bourbon.
I could not believe how long it was taking the boys to carry in a few pumpkins. At that moment, the police scanner sitting up on top of the refrigerator sounded off (pretty much everyone in town has one) and through the crackling we heard the dispatcher mention “Frenchman’s Bay,” “Coast Guard,” “old Ford truck,” “Fire and Rescue,” “crane,” and the key word, “pumpkins”!
Tori and I jumped up and shot out of the house.
Sure enough, outside there was no sign of Otis or Danny or Otis’s truck and all those pumpkins. Tori and I scrambled into my car and we tore through town like a bullet train to the town pier. Tori spent the whole ride wailing about what she would do if she lost the love of her life, completely forgetting she had just spent the previous hour bashing him.
I squealed the car to a stop and slammed the gear into park once we hit the town pier, and we both jumped out and joined a large crowd gathered at the bottom of Main Street staring down into the water. I frantically pushed my way through, a sobbing Tori clinging to me all the way until we reached the edge.
We both gasped in shock at the sight of Otis’s truck submerged in the water, just the back end sticking out surrounded by fifteen pumpkins floating around it. We spotted a small rescue skiff with rescue divers on board off a Coast Guard boat out in the bay heading full tilt toward the upended truck. Meanwhile, on land a large semi with a massive crane was being backed up to the end of the pier. Some firemen were setting up a few floodlights facing the water and the police force was placing barriers to keep back the crowd of onlookers.
Tori lost it, screaming over losing such a sweet and devoted husband!
I was in a state of shock.
What would I tell the kids?
They were so young.
The crowd watched me hugging Tori, all with looks of profound pity.
A few neighbors and friends who were there gave us a quick hug or offered an encouraging word.
“What’s going on here?” a man behind me asked.
It was a familiar voice.
It was my Danny.
I spun around and there he was standing with Uncle Otis, craning his neck to get a good look at what everyone was staring at. He was surprised to see me. “Hey, babe, what are you doing here?”
Before I could answer him, Tori let out a shriek to rival the nine o’clock whistle and then fainted dead away to the ground. Otis remarked he had never seen her so quiet as he poked her sides with his fishing boot to revive her.
Well, it turned out, Danny and Otis conspired to take a quick trip to Geddy’s Pub for a beer or two before unloading all the pumpkins. Otis parked his old junky truck on the hill across the street from the bar, pointing down toward the water, and apparently in his haste to get his hands on a cold Budweiser, put the gear in neutral instead of park. The rest, as they say, is history.
A few of my friends pointed to that night as the beginning of the end of my marriage to Danny. But it wasn’t quite over yet and there would be many more stories like this to tell. But that little gem was the talk of the town all the way into the New Year until Matt Gray had a few too many beers and took his snowmobile for a midnight spin after a fresh snowfall up and down the main streets in town, leading the police on a merry chase before crashing into a snowplow. He was fine, but I must say, I was rather relieved that people finally had a new topic to discuss.
The only thing good that came out of that night was once the Coast Guard fished all those pumpkins out of the bay I had plenty extra to make more of my Pumpkin Soup and a whole season’s worth of Pumpkin Cocktails!
Pumpkin Soup
Ingredients
6 cups chicken stock (homemade or
store-bought)
1 ½ teaspoon salt
4 cups pumpkin puree
1 cup chopped onion
½ teaspoon thyme
1 glove garlic, minced
½ cup heavy whipping cream
In a large pot add your stock, salt, pumpkin, onion, thyme, garlic, and peppercorns. Stir this all together and bring to a boil. Reduce heat to low and simmer for 30 minutes uncovered.
Using a blender or food processor puree your soup a cup at a time (to avoid splashing).
Return the soup back to the pot and bring it to a boil again. Reduce the heat and simmer another 30 minutes uncovered.
Stir in your heavy whipping cream.
Pour the soup into bowls, grab a spoon, and enjoy!
Pumpkin Cocktail
Ingredients
1½ ounces bourbon (your favorite)
½ ounce sherry
½ ounce fresh lemon juice
½ ounce simple syrup
1 teaspoon pumpkin butter (I like to
use Stonewall Kitchen’s)
2 dashes Angostura bitters
Cinnamon stick to garnish
Add all your ingredients to an ice-filled cocktail shaker and shake really well. Strain into an ice-filled rocks glass and garnish with a cinnamon stick.
Sit back and let this delicious fall cocktail warm you up!
Chapter 13
“Poor Uncle Otis. The old guy probably wandered into the graveyard drunk as a skunk, tripped, and banged his head on the tombstone and died,” Danny said, shaking his head while standing with Hayley behind yellow police tape that had been tied around two adjacent gravestones.
Danny fancied himself an armchair detective after spending years in front of the TV drinking beer and watching CSI and Law & Order reruns.
Hayley found it annoying because he was just not very good at solving the crime despite his overinflated ego. She remembered when they were first married they would watch a Murder, She Wrote episode on cable and Danny would spend the whole hour guessing every suspect questioned, and then after the delightful Angela Lansbury would unmask the killer and motive in the final segment, Danny would nod in agreement and proclaim, “See! I told you!”
Hayley would just wring her hands and keep her mouth shut in order to avoid an argument. But it took every ounce of strength not to blurt out, “You have no idea what you’re talking about!”
Danny also appeared unimpressed with Hayley’s recent history of investigating and solving local crimes with a striking success rate. Or if he was impre
ssed and just not showing it, he probably figured he was the one who taught her everything she knew.
Hayley was shoved aside by a crowd of gawkers mixed with a few local reporters, who all jostled into position to get the best look at the crime scene. She elbowed one aggressive photographer sharply in the ribs who tried pushing her out of the way before realizing he freelanced for the Island Times.
Bar Harbor Police Chief Sergio and two of his officers, Donnie and Earl, carefully combed the blocked-off area for evidence while a forensics team examined the body and snapped pictures in order to make the determination as to just what happened to poor old Otis Pearson. Hayley scanned the scene and noticed a trail through the mud leading from the gravel path to the tombstone.
“Danny, look at that over there. There’s a path through the mud but no footprints. It looks like something was dragged off the beaten path over to that row of tombstones where Otis was found. If someone dragged a body through the mud, the body would likely erase any sign of footprints.”
“What are you trying to say, Hayley?” Danny asked, barely paying her any mind as he watched the forensics team in action. “Man, why didn’t I become a CSI guy? I would’ve been so good at it.”
“I’m saying maybe someone killed Otis somewhere else and drove him here in a car, and then dragged his body over there and left it to confuse the police.”
“That’s ridiculous, babe. Why do you automatically assume Otis was murdered? You need to stop reading so many mystery novels. Otis was a klutz and a drunk. He fell and hit his head. End of story.”
Sergio wandered over to Hayley and Danny, and the obnoxious pushy photographer leaned into Hayley in order to eavesdrop on the conversation. Hayley gave him another quick jab in the ribs, and with a grunt, he moved out of her personal space.
“What’s the story so far, Sergio?” Hayley asked, keeping her voice down.
“Severe trauma to the head. He definitely died from his injury. At least that’s the preliminary assessment,” Sergio whispered, not wanting the crowd to overhear him sharing details of an open investigation with his sister-in-law.
But of course, given Hayley’s history in town, most of the crowd already assumed that was exactly what he was doing.
Danny chuckled with a self-satisfied smile. “You’ve got to learn to trust me, babe. Like I’ve been saying, he fell and hit his head on the gravestone.”
“Don’t gloat, Danny. It makes your smile crooked and it’s really unattractive,” Hayley said.
“I don’t believe he fell here. I think whatever gave him the head injury happened somewhere else,” Sergio said, instantly wiping the smile off Danny’s face.
“What do you mean?” Danny sputtered.
“The way the body is positioned doesn’t line up with him tripping and hitting his head on the flintstone.”
“The Flintstones? What’s he talking about, Hayley? Why is he talking about a cartoon? I’m confused,” Danny said, turning to Hayley.
She rested a hand on his arm. “He means tombstone.”
“Why didn’t he say that?” Danny asked, turning back to Sergio.
“I did,” Sergio seethed.
“I’m sorry to second-guess you, Sergio, but couldn’t Otis have fallen over there? Maybe he was still alive and tried crawling for help and just died in that position,” Danny said confidently, determined to defend his original theory.
“The mud trail that leads over to his body suggests someone dragged him from the gravel path and there are plenty of tire tracks to support the theory he was driven here,” Sergio said. “No, he was brought here from somewhere else.”
Officer Earl sauntered over to Sergio, rubbing his hands together and then wiping them on his pants. “You got a handkerchief or a moist wipe or something I can have to clean off my hands, Chief?”
“What the hell did you touch, Earl?” Sergio asked.
“I wanted a smoke but dropped my lighter and it fell right between the dead guy’s feet and I had to move his boot to get to it—”
“You touched the body?” Sergio yelled, eyes blazing.
“Well, no . . . I . . . I mean . . . just the boot . . . I just had to get my lighter . . .”
“Have you learned nothing since you’ve been with the department, Earl? You never touch anything until forensics has completed their investigation. Congratulations! You’ve just compromised an active crime scene!”
“Man, when you put it like that, it sounds kind of bad,” Earl said softly, regretting ever admitting anything to the chief.
“So what’s on your hands, Earl?” Hayley asked, noticing a green sticky goo on the tips of his fingers.
“I don’t know. It was on the soles of Otis’s boots. It’s like glue and I can’t get it off,” Earl said, annoyed, keeping one eye on Sergio to gauge his anger.
“Well, go over and have forensics take a sample before you wash it off, do you think you can do that for me, Earl?” Sergio sighed.
“Yes, sir,” Earl said before scampering off like a scolded child.
“I’ve got to get back to it. I’ll see you later,” Sergio said before marching back over to the dead body.
Danny watched Sergio standing over the still body of his uncle Otis a few minutes and then his eyes welled up with tears. “I can’t believe he’s gone, Hayley. He was my favorite uncle. We were drinking his moonshine and swapping stories just the other night and now he’s gone . . . forever . . .”
Danny reached out for a comforting hug from Hayley.
She hesitated, not sure she was ready to open herself up to a tender moment with her ex-husband. Danny was a terrific actor and so there was a question of whether or not his emotions at this moment were genuine. But she decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and put her arms around him and held him close.
The Island Times freelance photographer took the opportunity to snap a few shots of Otis’s grieving nephew. When Danny heard the flashes going off, he began wailing and putting on a good show.
Sergio noticed the commotion and made a beeline back over to them. “One thing I forgot to mention, Danny.”
Danny raised his head off Hayley’s shoulder but kept his arms firmly fastened around her as he sniffed. “What’s that, Sergio?”
“Don’t go far. I need you to stick around until we conclude our investigation.”
Danny nodded, hugged Hayley tighter, and then said, “Of course, Chief. I wouldn’t dream of going anywhere until we get to the truth about what happened to poor Uncle Otis.”
“Good,” Sergio said, before turning around and walking away again.
Danny was saying the right words, but Hayley could tell he was rattled.
He shifted nervously and kept clearing his throat.
She knew all his mannerisms from years of experience.
Danny Powell was in full-on panic mode.
And usually when that happened it wasn’t long before he would disappear.
Chapter 14
Hayley pulled her car off the main road and down the dirt driveway to Otis Pearson’s shack in the woods near Tremont to find a police cruiser with its blue lights flashing parked out front.
When she got out of the car and walked up the creaky wooden steps of the shack, Sergio suddenly appeared from around back to greet her.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
“I came here to see Danny, and make sure he doesn’t try to blow town before he’s given the all clear. What about you?”
“I came to ask him a few questions but when I got here the door was wide open and there didn’t appear to be anyone inside. I was just checking around back to see if he was chopping wood for the fireplace or something.”
Hayley laughed to herself over the idea of Danny chopping wood.
He wasn’t a man who was rejuvenated by manual labor.
He usually bought the wood with Hayley’s money.
Or stole a few logs from the neighbor’s pile.
“Come on, let’s go inside,” Sergio s
aid, leading the way.
Hayley followed close on his heels.
Sergio stopped in the doorway and looked around at the mess.
There were rat droppings in the corner next to the couch and flies buzzed around the dirty dishes piled high in the sink and the fireplace was caked in soot.
Plaid shirts and stained underwear were draped over a couple of rickety chairs and some moonshine jugs were upended on their sides on the floor.
Sergio shook his head, disgusted. “Looks like the place has been torn apart and ransacked.”
Hayley snorted. “Uh, no, this is just how Otis keeps house. The place looks exactly the same as when I was last here, which was only a few days ago.”
Sergio stared at her in disbelief.
Sergio led her over to the sectioned-off area where Otis slept. The dirty, musty mattress on the floor had been violently ripped open.
There were chunks of yellow foam strewn everywhere.
“Was that mattress in such a sorry state when you were last here?” Sergio asked, eyebrow raised.
“No. Other than those nasty stains it was pretty much intact.”
“Then someone has been here. Any idea what he or she might have been looking for?”
“I’m afraid so. Otis doesn’t believe in banks. He told me he stashes his savings, something like forty grand, in that mattress.”
Sergio’s mind raced. “So if the rest of the place looks exactly the same as when you were here previously, and only the mattress appears to have been disturbed, then whoever came here and stole Otis’s money knew exactly what he or she was looking for and where to find it.”
Hayley walked over and inspected the mutilated mattress.
It made sense.
Sergio moved up behind her. “Who else besides you knew Otis kept his money in there?”
Hayley winced.
Just like Lucy Ricardo used to do when she didn’t want to admit something to her Cuban bandleader husband.
“Hayley . . .” Sergio said, drawing her name out just like Ricky Ricardo when he would say, “Lucy . . .”