Death of a Blueberry Tart

by Lee Hollis

  Hayley had already packed one suitcase with her dressier clothing items for the dinners on board, and also a brand-new shimmering silver party dress for the Dancing with the Stars themed event scheduled for one night while at sea. She had no plans to participate since she was basically an incompetent hoofer, but she at least didn’t want to look out of place. Her small suitcase was reserved for her bathing suits and casual wear for the day trips. That’s what she began working on as well as assembling her myriad of toiletry items that cluttered the bathroom sink. Bruce had already squeezed in a couple of pairs of shorts and a small stack of T-shirts. He was far less concerned with his wardrobe, as he planned to spend most of the cruise in his one blue pair of swimming trunks with little anchors on them. Hayley tried convincing him to pack a skimpy red Speedo she had bought for him on Amazon, but he adamantly refused, even though she knew he would look hot wearing one.

  Hayley picked it up, fantasizing him in it, and decided to slip it in the suitcase just in case. Bruce emerged from the bathroom and saw what she was doing.

  “I told you, there’s no way I’m putting that thing on,” he said.

  Hayley giggled. “I suppose I shouldn’t push it. I don’t want to have to be competing with all the other women on the cruise who’d be vying for your attention.”

  “Oh, you think so . . .” Bruce laughed, shaking his head.

  “You’re a sexy man, and if you’ve got it, you should flaunt it, I always say.”

  “Really? You said that?”

  “Somebody said it. I don’t remember who. I just adopted it,” Hayley said before picking up the Speedo and swinging it around on her finger. “Come on, just try it on.”

  “No way!”

  “But the suit you’re taking is so boring. I think my son Dustin wore those exact same swimming trunks when he was eight.”

  “Not a chance,” Bruce scoffed.

  “Not even for me?” Hayley begged. “I promise, if you just try it on so I can see, I won’t sneak it in the suitcase.”

  Bruce sighed and, resigned, snatched the Speedo from her and disappeared into the bathroom. He emerged a minute later and Hayley gasped at just how sexy he looked. “Oh my God . . .”

  “Okay, out with it. How ridiculous do I look?”

  “You look amazing . . .”

  Hayley studied her husband’s muscular frame. If anything, Bruce had a rocking body. He worked out at the gym more than any other man she had ever been with, certainly a lot more than she did.

  She slowly lowered her eyes to his nether regions.

  “And, yeah, baby, it leaves nothing to the imagination!”

  “Now you’re just making fun of me,” Bruce said, cupping his crotch, and spinning around to scoot back into the bathroom to change.

  “I’m not! And look at that butt! So firm and perky!”

  Bruce poked his head out of the bathroom. “If you ever describe my buttocks as perky again, I swear I will file for divorce!”

  Hayley laughed. Her cell phone buzzed on the night table next to her. She glanced at the screen. “It’s my mother!”

  “See, I knew she’d forgive you once she had the chance to cool off,” Bruce called from the bathroom.

  Hayley quickly picked up the phone to answer the call. “Mom?”

  She heard heavy breathing.

  “Mom, are you there?”

  More heavy breathing.

  “Hello?”

  Hayley began to suspect an obscene caller had somehow gotten ahold of her mother’s phone, but then she heard a familiar voice choke out, “Hayley . . .”

  She knew it was her mother.

  “Mom, what’s wrong?”

  “Oh God, Hayley, it’s awful!” Sheila cried.

  “Mom, what is it? What’s happened?”

  Sheila began to sob uncontrollably.

  “Mom . . . Mom . . . talk to me . . .”

  After a few more seconds, Hayley heard Sheila whisper, “I think she might be . . .”

  Her mother suddenly screamed bloody murder.

  And the phone went dead.

  Island Food & Spirits BY HAYLEY POWELL

  One of the best things about growing up in a small town in the 1980s was the freedom we had to roam around on those long, hot summer days once the school year was over. Our parents basically let us loose in our neighborhoods with the surrounding natural beauty of Acadia National Park as our playground. We played on the rocky shores of the Atlantic Ocean, took long strolls on park roads or the carriage path that ran along the edge of Frenchman Bay. Sometimes we would even bike the five miles to Sand Beach to swim in the unforgiving cold water, even in the dog days of August. We would build forts and camps in the thick woods behind our house or even climb one of the many steep mountain trails. Along with my best friends Liddy and Mona, we would be gone for hours, but we always made it home by five o’clock to wash up for supper, which our mothers insisted upon.

  With all of this freedom that we were given during our summer vacation, I found it astounding that there was one hard-and-fast rule we were warned never to break. Our mothers had gotten together and decided until we all turned thirteen, we were not allowed to go into town without adult supervision. Okay, I understand if we were six or seven years old, but this one particular summer, we were all twelve and felt strongly that we were now far too old to be banned from walking downtown. What did they expect to happen? Did they think we would knock over a bank or get kidnapped by a marauding gang of Canadian tourists? It made no sense that we could run around the entire island unsupervised where there was a good chance we might encounter a Maine black bear, but we were strictly forbidden to have any human contact on Main Street! As much as we all tried to reason with our mothers, they were adamant that we obey their orders.

  Well, that summer I had already turned thirteen and Liddy and Mona were mere months away from the big one-three. It was time our mothers stopped treating us like babies! Besides, all of our friends were already allowed to roam all over town. It was embarrassing that we still couldn’t. We confronted our mothers, arguing that we just wanted to pop into the summer shops, or maybe get an ice cream cone, but it was still a firm no go. They absolutely refused, and that was the end of it. We were prisoners for one more summer.

  About a week later everything changed. Mona had come up with a brilliant solution to our problem. She pointed out that it was entirely possible for us to sneak into town, just once. If we left at ten in the morning and were home by two, our mothers would never know. She explained that her mother worked at the Jackson Lab all day and could not keep tabs on us. My mother collected rent part-time at the housing authority a few days a week and stayed home the other days to watch my little brother, Randy, who, unlike me, preferred staying indoors to watch soap operas and game shows on TV. My mother gave him a video recorder for his birthday, and that finally got him out of the house. He spent a lot more time in the backyard making his homemade James Bond spy movies. As for Liddy’s mom, well, she sold real estate and was all over the island every day, and so she was the one mother we would have to be extra careful to avoid. But we were confident we could pull it off, just once, and no one would be the wiser.

  The following day our plan went off without a hitch. We had a blast hanging out with friends, people-watching on the town pier, drinking milk shakes. It had been so easy, we did it again the next day. And the next day. And the next day after that.

  Before we knew it, half the summer was gone. We did have a couple of close calls. Mona’s mom drove right by us on Cottage Street one day as we were coming out of Epi’s sub shop after splitting a large hero. She parked across the street, and she and another woman got out and headed our way. We frantically dashed back inside, ran to the far end of the shop, crawled into a booth, and sank way down in the seats, peeking out to see the ladies pick up a lunch order and turn to go. We all looked at each other, relieved, when suddenly Mona’s mother stopped, said something to her friend, turned back around, and walked straight for us
. The three of us were shaking because we knew we were caught and would probably never see the light of day again. But miraculously, she just walked to the counter, grabbed some packaged condiments, and then turned back around to where her friend was waiting, and they left. We were so scared we practically ran the whole way back to my house, swearing we were never going into town again!

  Well, that pact lasted until the next day. The many pleasures of downtown Bar Harbor were just too tempting. Another time we almost ran into my mother, who was walking into West End Drug with my brother in tow. I swear Randy looked right at us. I was so worried he would narc on me, but that night at dinner he never said a word, so I assumed we were in the clear.

  However, as the summer wore on, I began to get the feeling we were being watched and I just couldn’t shake it. I mentioned this to Mona and Liddy as we were strolling up Roberts Avenue heading back to my house one day, and much to my surprise, they both admitted that sometimes they had the same feeling that we were being followed! We ultimately decided to chalk it up to feeling a little guilty about deceiving our parents.

  As we passed one of the beautiful three-story homes that lined the street, the front door opened and Liddy’s mother stepped outside, followed by a young couple carrying a baby. Liddy’s mother began motioning and talking about the large front porch with the comfortable rocking chairs for a warm summer night. Mona, Liddy, and I turned and raced up the driveway to hide behind the house next door, but not before I spotted someone down the street watching us. However, the stalker dashed out of sight before I could get a good look at who it was.

  It was that day we decided we were done. No more going into town. It was getting too risky.

  About a month later, just before Labor Day, my mom invited Mona’s mom and her family, along with Celeste and Liddy, over to our house for her annual “We Made It Through the Summer Barbecue.” After chowing down on burgers and hot dogs right off the grill, Mom ushered us all inside for some homemade blueberry ice cream for us kids and some more of her famous blueberry mint gin cocktails for the adults. It was time for us to watch the world premiere of Randy’s latest spy movie he had been working on all summer.

  Randy, who was dressed up in a suit like his hero James Bond, popped the VHS tape into the VCR, lowered the lights, and gave a brief introduction hinting at some special guest stars who would be making an appearance in the film.

  The opening credits came up.

  “Randy Powell Presents . . . A Randy Powell Production . . . Starring Randy Powell in . . . They Almost Got Away With It!”

  Weird title, I thought, but okay.

  And then the film started and there we were, Mona, Liddy, and I smack dab in the middle of the Village Green, eyeing some cute high school boys passing by wearing those tight bike pants. It got worse from there. There was scene after scene of us in town living it up, and even at one point, giving some lost tourists fake directions and laughing about it. I knew we never should have done that! Luckily Randy was far enough away, the microphone barely picked up the audio. When the film was finally over, you could hear a pin drop. Our mothers were furious. Needless to say, the party broke up pretty quickly after that, and everyone went home.

  I braced myself for some yelling, and my mom did not disappoint. When she was finally done, I turned and gave Randy one of my “wait until I get you alone” looks as he stood safely behind our mother and stuck out his tongue at me. I stomped up the stairs, but not before I heard my mother say to Randy, “And now I will deal with you, young man!” Randy began to cry because the one thing he hadn’t thought of when he decided to bust us three girls was that he would also get busted for going into town unsupervised! And he was way younger than we were! He lost his video camera and VCR for a month! That sure made me feel a whole lot better, that and another scoop or two of homemade blueberry ice cream.

  BLUEBERRY MINT GIN COCKTAIL

  INGREDIENTS

  1 ounce gin

  1 ounce blueberry simple syrup

  4 ounces sparkling water

  Ice and mint leaves for garnish

  BLUEBERRY SIMPLE SYRUP

  INGREDIENTS

  1 cup blueberries

  ¼ cup sugar

  ½ cup water

  In a saucepan, bring the simple syrup ingredients to a simmer and cook over medium low heat, stirring occasionally for 30 minutes, until jelly-like.

  Mix all your ingredients in a cocktail glass with ice and garnish with a mint leaf. If you like it a bit sweeter, add some more simple syrup.

  EASY HOMEMADE BLUEBERRY ICE CREAM

  INGREDIENTS

  4 cups fresh blueberries

  ¼ cup sugar

  Juice and zest of 1 lemon

  3 cups heavy cream

  1 can sweetened condensed milk

  In a food processor puree your blueberries, then pour them into a saucepan. Over medium heat add your sugar, lemon juice, and lemon zest and bring the mixture to a boil, then reduce the heat and simmer for 15 minutes until reduced slightly. Pour into a bowl and place in the refrigerator to chill.

  In a stand mixer or large bowl with a hand mixer, beat cream until stiff peaks form and then fold in the sweetened condensed milk until combined. Fold in the blueberry puree. Transfer to a clean container and freeze until firm, about 6 hours.

  Serve and enjoy!

  Chapter 14

  Bruce hastily threw on his clothes and drove himself and Hayley over to the inn on Mount Desert. Two police cars with flashing blue lights were already parked out front on the street. On the lawn outside, just under the soaring oak trees that shaded the property, a small gathering of guests mingled and gossiped about what was happening inside the large colonial-style inn that was just a five-minute walk from the Village Green in Bar Harbor’s historic corridor. After parking behind one of the police cruisers, Hayley and Bruce jumped out and raced over to Sheila, who was spotted leaning against one of the oak trees as if she was trying to catch her breath. When they reached her, Sheila reacted with a start as Hayley touched her arm, and then she burst into tears and threw her arms around her daughter.

  “Oh, Hayley, it was horrible . . .” Sheila moaned.

  Hayley lightly patted her mother on the back. “It’s going to be okay . . .”

  “Can you tell us what happened?” Bruce asked quietly so the other guests who had been evacuated from the inn and were now loitering nearby could not hear their conversation.

  Sheila kept her head buried in Hayley’s chest for a few more moments before finally letting her go and stepping back. She was wearing a bulky gray wool sweater because the sun had already gone down and there was a sharp chill in the air as darkness began setting in. She hugged herself as she spoke. “I . . . I walked down to the Big Apple to pick up some bottled water and a few snacks to keep in my room for later, and when I got back and was fumbling for the key I noticed the door to the room next door to my room was slightly ajar. I remember it was room six, which I thought was weird because I’m in room nine. The rooms are not numbered sequentially for some reason. Seven and eight are down another hall. Anyway, I didn’t think much of it at first, but as I passed by, I thought I saw someone lying on the floor. Well, I knocked on the door and when there was no answer . . . I pushed it open just a crack so I could get a better look, and that’s when I saw her . . .”

  Hayley gripped her mother’s arm. “Who?”

  “Her head was turned away so I couldn’t tell at first . . . that’s when I called you . . . but while we were on the phone, I walked around the body and I saw her as clear as a summer’s day . . . it was Caskie . . . Caskie Lemon-Hogg . . .”

  Sheila broke down again, sobbing.

  Hayley and Bruce exchanged stunned looks.

  They had just seen her less than a half hour earlier.

  She was on her way over to the inn to apologize to Sheila.

  How did she end up dead in another room?

  Chief Sergio Alvarez, flanked by two of his officers, Donnie and Earl, emerged fro
m the inn and met with a team of crime scene investigators who had just arrived at the scene.

  Bruce turned to Hayley. “If they’ve called in forensics, that must mean one thing . . .”

  Hayley nodded. “They think it’s a homicide.”

  Hayley left Bruce to comfort her mother and briskly crossed the lawn over to Sergio, who was directing his officers to string up some yellow police tape to keep the guests and growing number of rubbernecking locals a safe distance from the building.

  Sergio spotted Hayley approaching. “Not now, Hayley.”

  “Just tell me one thing and I promise not to bother you anymore,” Hayley begged. “How did she die?”

  Sergio exhaled, glanced around to make sure no one could overhear him doling out confidential information to a civilian, and then whispered under his breath, “Somebody strangled her.”

  And then he quickly walked away, pretending he had not said a word. Hayley just stood there, dismayed, before running back to Bruce and her mother. She decided to keep the cause of death to herself, at least for now.

  Bruce kicked into crime-reporter mode and began questioning the guests outside, asking if they had seen anything suspicious, as Hayley quietly comforted her mother. About twenty minutes later, Officer Donnie ambled out of the hotel and over to one of the cruisers to make a call. Hayley left her mother and dashed over to him, hovering behind him until he finished talking to his girlfriend, who seemed more concerned with Donnie picking up a few items on her grocery list at the Shop ’n Save than she did about the apparent murder at the inn on Mount Desert.

  “I know my shift ends at seven, but I’m probably going to have to work late . . . I’m at a murder scene, Sally! It’s kind of serious . . .”