Death of a Kitchen Diva (Hayley Powell Food and Cocktail Mysteries)

by Lee Hollis

  Randy loosened his grip and Hayley was finally free.

  She stood up and gave Sergio a hug.

  “Thank you, Sergio. For everything.”

  “Don’t worry, Hayley. You just go home and rest and don’t think about it anymore. I’ll find who did this.”

  Hayley smiled, and gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

  Poor Sergio.

  Not only was he going to have Randy riding him every second to clear Hayley’s name and keep her safe, but he also believed that Hayley was actually going to go home and not think about this anymore.

  But the truth was, it was all she could think about.

  And now that she was both a murder suspect and a potential murder victim, she wasn’t going to rest until she found all the answers.

  Chapter 31

  Sergio had no choice but to write a police report about the attempt on Hayley’s life. So by the following morning, the entire staff of the Island Times was aware that someone had used Hayley for target practice the night before.

  Sal asked if Hayley wanted to take the day off. She didn’t.

  The upside was nobody wanted to ask her to do any menial tasks for them because of the trauma she had just gone through.

  And that suited Hayley just fine.

  She basically just wanted to put her time in at the office, get her work done, and resume investigating the case.

  On the down low of course.

  The only person not around to talk about the incident was Bruce Linney. Hayley presumed he was out covering some local crime story, but she couldn’t imagine it was more dramatic than an attempted murder. She was surprised he wasn’t hounding her for details, or spitballing suspects, and generally just hanging around annoying her.

  Hayley checked the clock on the wall. Four-thirty.

  Another half hour and she would be set free. She began answering the last of her e-mails, one from Liddy about a new house listing on School Street, a fan letter for her strawberry and spinach salad recipe, and one of her mother’s mass mailings to friends and family regarding another conspiracy theory involving Elvis still being alive and hiding out on an Indian reservation outside Santa Fe, New Mexico. She deleted that one without reading it.

  Hayley was just about to shut down her computer and sneak out a few minutes early when Bruce threw open the door to the front office, and a gust of wind rushed through, blowing papers out of Hayley’s inbox. He just as quickly slammed it shut while using a briefcase he was carrying to block out the wind.

  He approached Hayley’s desk.

  Hayley gave him a sweet smile.

  Bruce didn’t smile back.

  In fact, he had a very serious, very grave look on his face. He just kept staring at Hayley, but didn’t say a word.

  She shifted in her seat. He was making her uncomfortable.

  “Everything all right, Bruce?”

  “We need to talk.”

  “Okay, what’s on your mind?”

  Bruce looked around to see if anyone was listening to their conversation.

  “We better do this privately. In my office. Now.”

  “You don’t have an office. You have a cubicle. And everybody can hear you because you’re always using your outside voice no matter where you are.”

  Bruce tapped his foot impatiently.

  He was obviously in no mood for one of Hayley’s playful insults.

  “Then let’s go get a drink or a cup of coffee. This is important.”

  “Is this about what happened to me last night?”

  “It very well could be.”

  He had succeeded in stirring up Hayley’s curiosity, and she quickly grabbed her bag and followed Bruce out the door, calling back on her way out, “’Night, Sal!”

  She thought she heard Sal grunt a reply, but she wasn’t sure, as Bruce gripped her by the arm and hurried her out and up the street. She had no idea where they were going, but she decided to allow Bruce to be in charge since he had such a grim look of determination on his face.

  He steered her up a side street called Firefly Lane and past Mount Desert Island Ice Cream where Hayley shook him off.

  She turned back and pulled open the door to the shop.

  “Forget coffee. I want some salt caramel ice cream!”

  Bruce sighed in frustration as he watched Hayley excitedly order from Linda, the pretty blond owner, who was wearing a white T-shirt stained with various flavors, and a blue bandanna tied around her head.

  Bruce gave up and followed her inside, ordering a pralines and cream.

  After Linda served them both, Bruce and Hayley sat at a small round table outside so no one in the shop could hear them talking.

  “So I’m sorry to spring this on you. I know you’ve had quite a day, but... ,” Bruce began.

  “Oh, God, this is so good,” Hayley said, shoveling the ice cream into her mouth with a white plastic spoon. “Did you know the president had the coconut when he was here with his family on vacation a couple of years ago?”

  “Yes, I know,” Bruce said. “Hayley, focus, please. This is important.”

  He reached out and grabbed Hayley’s hand, preventing her from finishing her ice cream, which Hayley likened to sticking your hand into a lion’s cage after poking him with a stick. The end result would be the same.

  But she could see Bruce was agonizing over something, and since it obviously concerned her, she decided to sit back and let him talk.

  “How much do you know about Lex?”

  This caught Hayley off guard.

  “Lex Bansfield?”

  “How many men named Lex do you know?”

  “Don’t be smart, Bruce. It’s just that you said what you wanted to discuss might be connected to the person who shot at me last night, so you can appreciate the fact that I wasn’t expecting to hear Lex’s name.”

  “No, I suppose not.”

  “You’re not suggesting that Lex was the one who shot at me last night, are you? Because if you are, we’re done talking.”

  Bruce lifted up the briefcase he had been carrying, placed it down on the table, and snapped it open. He pulled out a folder, then closed the briefcase, and handed the folder to Hayley.

  “What’s this?”

  “Police reports.”

  “I already have these. I downloaded them this morning for the next issue.”

  “These aren’t from Bar Harbor. They’re from Burlington, Vermont.”

  “I’m not following you, Bruce.”

  “Burlington. Where Lex lived before he moved here.”

  Hayley studied Bruce for a moment, and then opened the folder and began flipping through the pages.

  “Aggravated assault. Illegal weapons possession,” Bruce said grimly.

  “I don’t believe this.”

  She skimmed through the reports.

  Sure enough, Lex’s name was all over them. A bar fight. Failure to register a handgun.

  And most troubling, a domestic dispute.

  She poured over that one to see if Lex had threatened or harmed a woman he was dating, but the details in the report were vague.

  “Obviously there is a pattern of violent behavior,” Bruce said.

  “Okay, so he’s been in trouble with the law. Big deal. I remember you spent a night in jail after getting so drunk watching a Patriots game, you busted a pool table at my brother’s bar.”

  “Ancient history. And I didn’t hurt anyone.”

  “How do you connect a few incidents in Vermont to whomever it was who shot at me last night in the park?”

  “I can’t. But I think you should stay away from him until we find out more about why you were targeted.”

  “What possible motive would Lex have to hurt me?”

  “You tell me.”

  “Why are you even checking into his background? What business is it of yours?”

  “I told you, I just don’t trust the guy.”

  Hayley felt her face flush. She was getting angry.

  She po
lished off the last of her salt caramel ice cream and crushed the empty paper cup in her bare hands.

  She stared daggers at Bruce.

  “You know, Bruce, you make a very convincing argument. This certainly doesn’t make me feel good about Lex. And I probably need to talk to him about this. But I also don’t feel good about you and what you’re doing.”

  “Trying to protect you.”

  “Is that what you’re doing? Or is this some ploy born out of jealousy to keep me from finding someone who can make me happy?”

  “Did you look at these papers? How can a guy like this make you happy? Are you that deluded?”

  Bruce was only half-finished with his cup of pralines and cream when Hayley snatched it from his grasp and upended it in his face.

  Bruce howled, surprised, as the store owner popped her head up from behind the counter to see what the commotion was about.

  Hayley stood up, grabbed her bag, and said, “Stay out of my business, Bruce.”

  And then she stalked off, as Linda came running out of the shop with a fistful of napkins to help Bruce clean the sweet praline bits and sticky cream off his face.

  Hayley’s head was spinning as she charged down the paved sidewalk to her car, which was parked back at the office. She was furious with Bruce and his obvious attempts to scare her away from Lex.

  But there was also a small feeling in the pit of her stomach that she was trying to ignore.

  One she knew she would have to confront eventually.

  Maybe Lex Bansfield wasn’t the all-around great guy she had thought or hoped he would be.

  Maybe he was, as the police reports from Burlington suggested, a very dangerous man.

  Chapter 32

  Hayley had barely pulled into the driveway when she received an urgent text from Liddy demanding she join her and Mona at Randy’s bar, Drinks Like A Fish, ASAP.

  But all Hayley wanted to do was make sure Gemma and Dustin did their homework, pour herself a nice glass of Pinot Noir, settle on the couch, and nod off to sleep with Leroy nestled in her arms while watching an old cheesy Lifetime movie.

  Unfortunately, the follow-up text from Liddy pretty much ensured that Hayley’s well-laid plans were kaput.

  I have juicy gossip. And it has to do with Karen Applebaum.

  There was no way Hayley would ever be able to focus on Heather Locklear running away from a homicidal Harry Hamlin in the woods of Vancouver, Canada, in some fabulously awful nineties woman-in-jeopardy thriller with a text like Liddy’s staring up at her all night from her cell phone.

  No, Liddy knew exactly what she was doing, and Hayley knew it would be pointless to fight it.

  She and Mona were probably propped up on stools right now waiting for her while Randy tended bar. And she was sure Liddy was teasing the two of them with tantalizing hints as to what her big bombshell was, but refusing to divulge any significant details until Hayley showed up.

  Hayley went inside to check on the kids. She gave them money for pizza, and apologized once again for depriving them of a home-cooked meal. She was worried this was becoming a habit, but knew she could resume being a responsible mother once she cleared her name of murder.

  Gemma and Dustin didn’t seem all that heartbroken that they wouldn’t be having dinner with their mother. In fact, they barely acknowledged her until she put her hand out holding a twenty dollar bill. Gemma got to it first and snatched it out of Hayley’s fingers, and told her brother in no uncertain terms they would be getting pepperoni and mushroom, whether he liked it or not. Then, she dashed into the kitchen to call Little Anthony’s on the landline. They were pretty much the only place in town that delivered.

  Once Hayley inspected their homework to make sure it was done, she told the kids she wouldn’t be gone long, and was back behind the wheel of her car within minutes, heading to her brother’s bar.

  Just as Hayley suspected, Liddy and Mona were at the bar, sitting atop their usual stools. But Randy wasn’t there.

  Michelle, a tall statuesque goddess with bronze skin and long, jet-black hair—a mix of Native American and Greek blood—was filling in. Michelle went to school with Randy, and had served as his beard for every prom that popped up. They remained close after Randy came out, and when she divorced her husband after he emptied their joint checking account and skipped town, Randy hired her as a bartender. She hadn’t known a Greyhound from a Sea Breeze, but Randy schooled her himself and now she was the most popular server in town, especially given her exotic beauty and winning smile.

  “What can I get you, Hayley?” Michelle said, waving to Hayley as she scurried in and headed to the long oak bar.

  “Glass of Pinot Noir,” Hayley said, not wanting all her plans for the night to go out the window.

  Michelle nodded, and reached for an open bottle of wine and a clean glass.

  Liddy was sipping a Cosmo and Mona stirred a straw in what looked like a nearly empty glass of Diet Coke, and she didn’t look happy about it. She kept throwing resentful glances at Liddy’s cocktail.

  “It’s about time you got here,” Liddy said. “I called and e-mailed you at work but got no answer.”

  “I left a few minutes early. Bruce wanted to talk to me about something.”

  “His undying love for you?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “It’s only a matter of time,” Liddy said.

  “Hayley, get your ass up on this stool so we can finally hear what kind of dirt Liddy dug up before my water breaks,” Mona said, sighing.

  Michelle busted up laughing behind the bar as she poured Hayley’s wine and delivered it to her.

  “Thanks, Michelle,” Hayley said, smiling.

  Michelle winked at her, and then went to refill Mona’s soda.

  “Okay, I’ve been a basket case ever since I heard what happened to you last night in the park,” Liddy said breathlessly, clutching her heart.

  Mona was a little more subdued in her concern, but did reach out and give Hayley a gentle pat on the shoulder. “You okay?”

  “I’m fine. He missed completely. He might have just been trying to scare me. If it was a him. I couldn’t really tell.”

  “Well, the last thing I want is to see my best friend riddled with bullets, so quite frankly, this latest drama spurred me into action,” Liddy said.

  Hayley wasn’t sure if this was a good thing or a bad thing.

  “What did you do?”

  “You’re not the only one who can play detective. I went to the Bar Harbor Herald and conducted my own investigation.”

  “This should be good,” Mona said, chuckling.

  “It is. You’re not going to believe what I found out,” Liddy said, a knowing grin on her face.

  This was pure heaven for Liddy—knowing something everyone else in the room did not. She adored being in any kind of power position.

  “What, Liddy? What? I have to be at work in the morning,” Hayley said before taking a generous sip of her wine.

  “Well,” Liddy said, drawing out the suspense as long as she could, “I wanted to know if anything unusual might have happened on the day before the bake sale. Karen’s last day in the office before she was murdered.”

  “So what did you find out?” Mona asked.

  “Well, Carol Pinkerton, who does the society column, had a desk next to Karen’s at the Herald, and she told me—after I promised to lower the asking price on that quaint little three-bedroom fixer-upper I listed out on Route Three—that after the police returned Karen’s computer it’s just been sitting there. No one’s tried to log on or erase the hard drive or anything. So I went over during my lunch hour today when almost everybody was gone, and I had Carol serve as my lookout while I went through her files.”

  “Wait. You broke into Karen’s office computer with Carol Pinkerton as your accomplice?” Hayley asked incredulously.

  “Yes. She really wants to put a bid in on that house. But without my help bringing down the price, she’ll never qualify for the loan. So yo
u can thank me when I’m finished with my story.”

  “Go on,” Hayley said, taking another sip of wine, her curiosity peaked.

  “There wasn’t much, believe me. I can see why the cops came up empty. But then I noticed on the day before she died, which was a Friday, Karen went home for lunch,” Liddy said, slapping a hand down on the bar for emphasis. “It was right there plain as day, typed into the calendar on her computer!”

  Hayley and Mona waited for more.

  But there wasn’t any more.

  Even Michelle, who had stopped washing glasses at the other end of the bar to eavesdrop, had a confused look on her face.

  “Is that it?” Hayley asked.

  “Ladies, according to Carol, Karen Applebaum never, ever went home for lunch. She ate out every day, like clockwork. I used to see her at all the different restaurants in town.”

  “Because you also eat lunch out every day since you make more money than all of us and can afford it,” Hayley said.

  “Precisely. So why on this particular day did Karen break her routine and go home? I asked Carol that question, and she told me she remembered specifically on that day that Karen took a phone call around ten-thirty, and told someone she would meet them at one-fifteen. Well, Karen took her lunch hour from one to two. And it’s about a ten-minute drive from her office to her house.”

  “Liddy, maybe she was just meeting a contractor to have some work done on her house or something completely innocent,” Hayley said.

  “That’s what I thought at first. But then Carol told me that when Karen noticed that she was listening to the conversation, she quickly turned away and started whispering, like she didn’t want Carol to know who she was talking to.”

  “So you think it might have been the man she was secretly seeing, the mysterious man who sent flowers to her funeral service,” Hayley said.

  “Yes, and if she rendezvoused with him the day before she died, it would not be a stretch to think that maybe they had some kind of big fight and he got enraged. He would have had motive and opportunity. The chowder could’ve been simmering on the stove in a Crock-Pot all day Saturday. He may have had a key to her house and came back the next day to add the cyanide while she was at the bake sale. She got home from the library, had some chowder for dinner, and it killed her.”