Death of a Country Fried Redneck

by Lee Hollis

  Mona barreled down the walkway to the dock, wiping her face with her sleeve, and then cracked her knuckles and set about untying a small army green boat with an outboard motor from the dock.

  “So who are we looking for?”

  “Spanky McFarland.”

  “The stock boy from the Shop ’n Save?”

  “Yes. He may have information about the death of Mickey Pritchett and I don’t want to wait until the end of the day to talk to him because as you know, time is of the essence when it comes to murder investigations and—”

  Mona held up a hand. “You don’t need to explain. I’m just happy to be out of the house. Let’s go.”

  Mona steadied the boat and waved Hayley aboard and then she jumped in after her, tossed Hayley an orange life jacket, and yanked the cord until the motor sputtered to life.

  Within seconds, they were chugging out into the harbor and around the small islands that dotted Frenchman’s Bay.

  The bright morning sun beat down on them.

  And she forgot her sunscreen.

  Great.

  It took about twenty minutes before Hayley and Mona spotted two kayaks off in the distance gliding across the water at an impressive speed. Mona steered the motor in their direction and they soon caught up with them.

  Hayley stood up, keeping her balance, and waved her arms at the boys. “Spanky! Nate! It’s me, Hayley Powell! Dustin’s mother!”

  The two boys stopped paddling and exchanged confused looks.

  Nate spoke first. “Hi, Mrs. Powell. What are you doing out here?”

  “I need to talk to Spanky.”

  Spanky shifted nervously in his kayak. “About what?”

  “Mickey Pritchett.”

  That was all he needed to hear.

  Spanky suddenly started frantically paddling in the opposite direction.

  “Is this kid serious?” Mona asked, shaking her head.

  She gunned the motor and the boat shot off ahead of Spanky.

  Mona veered in front of him, cutting him off.

  “Give it up, Frankie. This is a Yamaha outboard with twenty-five horsepower. You’re not going to out-paddle it.”

  “It’s Spanky,” the kid mumbled.

  “What?”

  “His name is Spanky, not Frankie,” Hayley offered.

  “What the hell does it matter? I can’t even keep the names of my own kids straight.”

  Hayley patted Mona’s back, giving her the signal that she would take over now, so Mona plopped down on the wooden seat in the boat and started combing her hair for egg bits.

  Hayley smiled at Spanky. “Now, Spanky, I don’t want to get you into any kind of trouble . . .”

  “I didn’t do anything!” Spanky protested.

  His brother Nate was watching the scene curiously.

  “I know you took some groceries over to Mickey Pritchett at the Harborside Hotel the night he was killed.”

  Spanky was shaking now. “You can’t prove it! Nobody saw me take anything!”

  Nate rolled his eyes. “You did what?”

  “Nothing,” Hayley said. “I don’t care how you got the groceries or what they were or how much Mickey paid you for them.”

  “You don’t?” Spanky asked, his eyes as big as saucers.

  “No. It’s none of my business and, like I said, I’m not here to get you into trouble. I just need to ask you a couple of questions about Mickey, about when you brought him the bag of groceries. What did he say to you?”

  “Not much. He was kind of a jerk. He seemed . . . I don’t know . . . like something was on his mind.”

  “He was preoccupied?”

  “Yes. And nervous or agi . . . agi . . .”

  “Agitated?”

  “Yeah, that’s the word. Agitated. And he was eating a greasy piece of chicken and it was all over his face and he kept wiping his hands on his shirt. It was kind of gross.”

  Hayley resisted the urge to defend her chicken. It was not greasy!

  “What else do you remember?”

  “Nothing. He gave me my money and then shut the door in my face and I went home because my shift at the store was over.”

  “So you didn’t see anyone else around when you got there?”

  “No. Nobody.”

  Hayley sighed.

  She was going to get sunburned for nothing.

  She turned to Mona. “Let’s head back to shore, Mona.”

  “Only when I was leaving.”

  “Wait. What did you say?”

  “I didn’t see anyone when I showed up. Only when I was leaving.”

  “Who was it?”

  “I don’t know. It was a girl. She walked right past me and knocked on the guy’s door and he let her in.”

  “Girl? You mean a woman? Stacy Jo Stanton? Did she have blond hair and big boobs?”

  Nate chuckled.

  All teenage boys chuckle at the mention of boobs. Spanky shook his head. “No. Not really. I don’t remember much about her. She wasn’t exactly a hottie.”

  “How old would you say she was?”

  Spanky shrugged. “Way older than me, like a sophomore or junior.”

  So, about a year or two older.

  “What did she look like?” Hayley said.

  “I don’t know. Brown hair. Fat. Well, not fat, but not skinny, that’s for sure.”

  “What else?”

  “Oh, she had this big ugly mole on her face.”

  Hayley’s heart nearly stopped.

  A mole.

  That the girl probably hated.

  Spanky was talking about Carrie Weston.

  Gemma’s best friend.

  Carrie had been in Mickey Pritchett’s hotel room the night he was murdered.

  Chapter 26

  As the boat cut through the waves back toward the town pier, Hayley was on her cell phone calling Randy’s house and asking for Gemma.

  Randy’s voice was scratchy and his mood was grumpy when he picked up the phone. He obviously hadn’t had his morning coffee yet. “She’s not here.”

  “Where did she go?”

  “The Lobster Festival down at the ball field.”

  “Right. I forgot that was today. Who did she go with?”

  “One of her friends.”

  Carrie Weston.

  Hayley remembered overhearing Gemma talking with Carrie on the phone last night and making plans to meet there today.

  ‘Thanks, Randy,” Hayley said.

  “Who can eat lobster this early in the morning?” Randy said.

  Hayley checked her watch.

  It was after ten now.

  The life of a bar owner rarely began before noon.

  Hayley clicked off her phone just as Mona’s boat bumped into the side of the dock, nearly causing Hayley to topple over.

  She hopped out and hurried up the walkway to her car. “I’ll call you later, Mona! I have to get to the Lobster Festival.”

  Mona waved and then grabbed some rope and started tying it around a post to secure her little motorboat. “Crap. I knew there was something else I had to do today. I’m sponsoring the whole damn thing. Okay! I’ll see you there!”

  Hayley jumped in her car and roared up the hill along Main Street, straight through town, all the way to the other end where the town ball field was located. Normally a couple of Little League teams would be in the middle of a Saturday morning game. Maybe a few locals would be tossing a ball for their dogs to chase after. But, today, booths with steaming pots of lobster and other seafoods grilling and frying and rows and rows of picnic tables had been set up. Even though the crowd wouldn’t swell until closer to lunchtime, already there were lots of people milling around, checking out the food and playing a few of the carnival games with their kids.

  Because the festival wasn’t yet in full swing, Hayley had no trouble finding a parking space. She tried tracking down Gemma on her cell phone but the call went straight to voice mail.

  The sun was so blinding Hayley had to fish thro
ugh her bag for some sunglasses. She slid them on so she could scan the festival-goers for any sign of her daughter.

  It took about ten minutes to locate her, but finally she spotted Gemma and Carrie chowing down on blueberry muffins they must have purchased at the Jordan’s restaurant booth on the north side of the ball field.

  Hayley made her way through the crowd and over to them just in time to hear Gemma say, “I’ve never felt this way about a guy before, and I’m not sure what I’m going to do about it.”

  Hayley froze in her tracks.

  This is not what she needed to hear at this moment.

  But she couldn’t very well address it now.

  That was a whole other discussion.

  Instead, she just smiled and said, “Hi, girls.”

  Gemma spun around, a look of concern on her face.

  Hayley lowered her sunglasses and her blazing eyes told Gemma that she had overheard her talking about Reid. It was a signal that said they would definitely be discussing it later.

  “Hi, Mrs. Powell,” Carrie said flatly, before taking a bite of her muffin.

  “Want half my muffin?” Gemma said in a sweet voice, trying to deflect attention from her earlier words. “It’s really, really good and I know how much you like blueberries.”

  “No, I’m fine.”

  “Uh-oh. What’s wrong?” Gemma asked before turning to Carrie, who looked at Hayley curiously. “My mom never turns down food. Something is seriously wrong.”

  “I need to talk to you,” Hayley said grimly.

  “Look, we’re just dating. I know you think we’re doing the nasty behind your back but the truth is we’re not. We’re just . . .”

  “I wasn’t talking to you, Gemma. But that doesn’t mean we’re not going to get into all that at length later. Right now, I’m talking to Carrie.”

  “Me?” Carrie said, her eyes wide with surprise.

  “I just spoke with someone who saw you enter Mickey Pritchett’s room at the Harborside Hotel on the night he was murdered.”

  There was a long awkward moment.

  “I . . . I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Carrie stammered.

  “Mom! Please!” Gemma wailed.

  “I need to know what you were doing there,” Hayley pressed.

  “Mom!”

  Hayley held up her hand. “Gemma, stay out of it.”

  Carrie folded her arms and looked down. She was embarrassed and more than a little scared. It was clear panic was slowly rising up inside her.

  Hayley hated interrogating the poor girl like this, but she had to know. “Carrie, it’s all going to come out eventually. If you don’t talk to me now, you’ll eventually have to talk to the police.”

  Carrie’s eyes nearly popped out of her head. “The police? No! Please! I don’t want to go to jail!”

  Hayley softened. “Talk to me, Carrie. I want to help you.”

  Carrie looked at Gemma, who nodded. “Go ahead. Tell her.”

  “Yes, I was there that night,” Carrie said softly, still not making eye contact with Hayley.

  Suddenly a deep voice coming from behind them startled all three of them. “Carrie, we’re going home. Go wait in the car.”

  Hayley turned to see Ned Weston, Carrie’s father, hovering over them, a stern look on his face, his fists clenched.

  Carrie didn’t make a move.

  “I said, go wait in the car,” Ned barked.

  They all jumped again.

  And Carrie immediately scooted across the grass toward a row of parked cars.

  “Ned, I really need to talk to Carrie because it seems she might know something about . . .”

  “I really don’t care, Hayley,” Ned growled. “Stop badgering my daughter.”

  “I’m not badgering her. I’m just trying to . . .”

  “I’m warning you,” Ned said, pointing a finger in Hayley’s face. “Leave us alone.”

  He stalked off, leaving Hayley and Gemma standing in the middle of the ball field, engulfed in white steam from all the boiling lobster pots.

  “I’m supposed to meet Reid over by the information booth,” Gemma said, attempting a fast getaway.

  Hayley reached out and grabbed her by the arm. “You’re not going anywhere until you tell me what you know.”

  “I promised Carrie I wouldn’t say anything.”

  “Gemma, you can’t hide something like this from me. We’re talking about a murder investigation. This is serious.”

  Gemma wrinkled her nose and sighed, wavering. “If Carrie finds out I said anything, she’ll never talk to me again.”

  “Why? Gemma, please.”

  Gemma looked around and then back at her mother before speaking in a hushed tone. “Carrie was dying to meet Wade Springer, just like you were. I mean, he’s like her idol and she has all his music on her iPod just like . . .”

  “I know. Just like me. Go on.”

  “Well, there was no way she was ever going to get close to him on her own. She knew that the night you two tried to crash the hotel bar to meet him. But if she got to know someone close to Wade, maybe he could make an introduction.”

  “Mickey Pritchett.”

  “We ran into him when he was coming out of Uncle Randy’s bar one night. And Carrie just went for it and asked him, and he said he’d be glad to help us.”

  “So did he introduce her?”

  Gemma shook her head. “No. It never got that far. Because Mickey told her nothing comes free in life and if she really wanted to meet Wade then she was going to have to . . .”

  “Oh, no.”

  Sexual favors.

  A chill went up Hayley’s spine.

  “Gemma, please tell me she didn’t . . .”

  “No! I mean, she considered it. You know what a huge fan she is of Wade’s. Carrie was willing to do almost anything to get in the same room with him. But, come on. That guy was so gross!”

  “If Carrie turned Mickey down, why did she go to his hotel room that night?”

  Gemma shrugged. “I don’t know. You’ll have to ask her.”

  “Gemma, what makes you so sure she didn’t agree to Mickey’s demands?”

  “Because she told me so. And she’s my best friend and I believe her.”

  Hayley silently prayed Gemma was right. But if Carrie was willing to do something so desperate to meet her idol, there was a strong chance she might hide it from her best friend out of sheer embarrassment and humiliation.

  One thing was certain.

  Hayley had to somehow circumvent Ned Weston and get to his daughter to find out the truth.

  Chapter 27

  “Mona, it’s me,” Hayley said.

  “What now? You want another boat ride?”

  “No. I need to know if Ned Weston ever orders seafood from your shop.”

  “Everybody in town does. Ned’s no different.”

  “Good. Where are you now?”

  “At the Lobster Festival trying to corral my kids, who are running around raising hell right now. I got nobody working my booth.”

  “I can call Gemma. She’d love to help you out. The kids adore her so they’ll listen to her and she can work the register while you’re gone.”

  “Where am I going?”

  “Ned Weston’s house.”

  “And why am I going there?”

  “To deliver fifteen lobsters he ordered.”

  “But he didn’t order any lobsters.”

  “Yes.”

  “You want me to keep him busy by making him think I’m an idiot who got an order screwed up so you can play Nancy Drudge?”

  “Nancy Drew.”

  “I didn’t read much as a kid. Don’t read much now, come to think of it. Guess I haven’t changed much. But who the hell has time with those hellions I’m trying to raise . . .”

  “Mona, I really need you to do this.”

  “How long do I have to stall him?”

  “Just five minutes. Until I get a chance to talk to Carrie.”


  “Fine. Call Gemma and I’ll be there in ten.”

  “Thank you, Mona!”

  “But this is the last time I go undercover while you’re snooping.”

  “Technically, you’re not going undercover. You’re just being yourself.”

  “But I’m pretending that I got an order wrong, which, by the way, I never do. So I would say that’s operating undercover.”

  “Not really, because going undercover is assuming a false identity . . .”

  “You really want to argue with me over this right before I do you this huge favor, Hayley?”

  “You’re right. Thanks for going undercover. I’m calling Gemma.”

  Hayley called Gemma, who was giggling over something Reid said when she picked up. She wasn’t too happy about having to drop everything to go work at Aunt Mona’s booth, but when Reid suggested it might be fun, Gemma quickly reversed her opinion and told Hayley they were heading over there immediately.

  Hayley jumped in her Subaru and raced over to the Weston house, parking a block away so Ned would not spot her car. Then she walked the rest of the way, darting behind a tree as she rounded the corner and saw Mona pulling a silver cooler out of the back of her truck and carrying it up the walk to the Weston’s doorstep and ringing the bell.

  Ned answered with a puzzled look on his face and Mona broke into a big, warm smile.

  “Looks like you’re putting on quite a feast tonight, Ned. Where’s my invitation?” Mona chuckled.

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  Mona put down the cooler and pulled a receipt out of her jeans pocket. “Here you go. Fifteen lobsters. Billed to your account. I threw in some mussels, on the house.”

  Ned snatched the receipt out of her hand and studied it. “I didn’t order any lobsters.”

  That was Hayley’s cue.

  Ned’s face was buried in the piece of paper, allowing Hayley a precious few moments to run out from behind the tree and up the driveway toward the back of the house.

  The yard was immaculately landscaped. Ned Weston was not one to allow even one blade of grass to grow too high.

  He was controlling that way.

  Hayley was careful not to step in his beautiful flower bed as she reached down and picked up a few pebbles and started throwing them up at a second-story window. She knew this was Carrie’s room from the many times she had picked up or dropped off Gemma.