Death of a Blueberry Tart

by Lee Hollis

  Sally appeared to cut him off and he stood there, shoulders slumped, listening. “Okay, heavy cream, a dozen eggs, vanilla extract . . . Any particular brand? Uh-huh . . .”

  Donnie turned to glance back at the inn to make sure his boss, Sergio, wasn’t looking for him, and instantly noticed Hayley eavesdropping on his conversation. “Sally, I have to go! I’ll go to the store just as soon as I can get out of here and then I’ll come right home.”

  Hayley could hear Sally still talking as Donnie ended the call and pocketed his phone. “What’s the word, Donnie?”

  “I’m not supposed to talk to any reporters about what’s going on in there!” Donnie barked.

  “Well, then it’s a good thing I’m not a reporter. I’m just a food columnist for the paper. It’s not my job to cover the police beat.”

  Donnie pointed a shaky finger at her. “Yeah, well, it’s common knowledge that’s never stopped you before!”

  “What’s Sally making?”

  This seemed to confuse him. He hadn’t expected that to be her first question.

  “She’s making a blueberry cake for dessert tonight.”

  “Sounds yummy!”

  He eyed her suspiciously. “I’m sure you would think so. The recipe came from one of your columns.”

  “Did she get the fresh blueberries from Caskie Lemon-Hogg?”

  Donnie gulped, shifting nervously from one foot to the other. “I don’t know . . .”

  “Poor Caskie . . . I heard she was strangled . . .” Hayley whispered.

  Donnie’s eyes widened. “Where did you hear that?”

  “I have my sources,” Hayley said coyly. “I know she was found in one of the rooms and I also heard there was no sign of forced entry.”

  “Well, then your source is not a reliable one because there was a door adjoining the room next door, and the lock looks like it was broken!”

  Donnie immediately knew that he had just shared way too much information.

  “The room next door? Where my mother was staying?”

  “I can’t say!”

  “Donnie, tell me!”

  “No!”

  “I already know about the broken lock. I’d hate for Sergio to find out that it was you who told me about it.”

  Donnie’s mouth dropped open. “Are you blackmailing me? Is that what you’re doing? Are you really going to tell Sergio what I said?”

  Hayley didn’t want to torture the poor boy any further and so she decided to put his mind at ease. “Of course not. You know me better than that. I was just trying to scare you into telling me.”

  She could see the relief on his face. He believed her.

  “I appreciate your honesty,” he said.

  Hayley turned to leave.

  “Yes . . .” Donnie said in a low voice.

  Hayley spun back around.

  “Yes, what?”

  “Yes, it was your mother’s room. But if you say it was me who told you, I’ll deny it.”

  “Does that make her a—”

  Donnie cut her off. “Yup. A suspect. And not only just a suspect. Your mother’s our number-one suspect.”

  Hayley heard a loud gasp behind her.

  Donnie peered over Hayley’s right shoulder and his eyes suddenly popped wide open.

  Hayley knew who it was.

  She slowly turned around to see her mother, clutching her chest, a panicked look on her face. “You think I did it?”

  “No!” Donnie cried. “I didn’t say that! I didn’t say anything! Leave me alone!”

  Donnie bolted away, back toward the inn.

  Hayley rushed over to hug her mother again, who was on the verge of a full-blown meltdown.

  “Are they going to arrest me?”

  “No one’s arresting you, Mom!”

  “I swear I had nothing to do with what happened to Caskie! I may not have liked her, and she may have taken out a restraining order against me, but that doesn’t mean . . . Oh dear Lord, it looks really bad, doesn’t it?”

  “Mom, did you notice when you were in your room that the door that connected to the room next door had a broken lock?”

  “What? No! I had no idea there was even someone checked in to the room next door! I didn’t see or hear anything!”

  Hayley nodded, then saw Bruce, who had just finished questioning the other guests, walking toward them.

  “Am I going to jail?” Sheila sputtered.

  “You’re not going to jail! I promise!” Hayley assured her.

  But Hayley was not entirely sure that was a promise that she could keep, especially given the circumstantial evidence.

  In fact, there was only one thing she was sure of at the moment, and it was time to tell Bruce.

  Bruce approached with a puzzled look. “What’s going on?”

  “Mom’s moving back to our house and we’re canceling our honeymoon.”

  Bruce’s face blanched. “What? Why?”

  “I think we may have to prove that my mother is not a murderer.”

  Chapter 15

  “According to Andy Shackelford, who owns the inn, the guest registered in the room where Caskie Lemon-Hogg’s body was discovered was Rupert Stiles,” Sergio said as he sat behind his desk at the Bar Harbor Police Station, perusing the bed-and-breakfast records that had been printed out for him.

  “Rupert Stiles?” Bruce asked, surprised. “But that doesn’t make any sense. Why would he book a room at the inn? He’s a local. Last I heard, he rents an apartment down on lower Rodick Street.”

  Hayley didn’t buy it either. Something else had to be going on here. The last time she had seen the gruff curmudgeon with his long gray beard was at her mother’s high school reunion at Randy’s bar a few nights earlier, where he unsuccessfully tried to pick up Mona’s mother while heavily intoxicated. He didn’t seem capable of walking in a straight line, let alone strangling an able-bodied woman.

  “Have you spoken to Rupert about this?” Hayley asked.

  Sergio nodded. “He claims his credit card was stolen and that it wasn’t him who booked the room. The thing is, the desk clerk says that the man who checked in with the card had a long beard, just like Rupert’s. I sent Donnie and Earl over to Rupert’s apartment to pick him up and bring him down here so we can put him in a lineup. The clerk is waiting in a room down the hall.”

  Bruce furiously jotted down notes on his pad, making sure to get every detail right for his next column. It was not often that the police chief was willing to dole out information to them about an ongoing investigation, so he was not about to let this rare opportunity pass. He finally finished and looked up.

  “It just doesn’t add up. I’m having a tough time believing that Caskie and Rupert Stiles could have had any kind of relationship given the vastly different social circles they traveled in. If they were having some kind of an affair, which strikes me as totally implausible, why plan a clandestine meeting at a bed-and-breakfast where lots of people can see you coming and going, and why use your credit card so there is a clear record?”

  Hayley quickly jumped in. “Plus, Caskie showed up at our house looking for my mother. That was the reason she was going over to the inn, to apologize for taking out the restraining order against her. How did she wind up in the room next door, strangled to death?”

  “Maybe Rupert lured her into the room somehow, and tried to take advantage of her, and she resisted and things just got out of hand,” Bruce suggested.

  Hayley shook her head. She still could not wrap her head around the fact that Rupert Stiles might be some kind of a violent predator.

  “The desk clerk also claims that he saw the bearded man running out of the inn shortly before your mother stumbled across the victim’s body,” Sergio said.

  It did not look too good for Rupert.

  But at least there was another suspect besides Sheila.

  Officer Earl rapped on the door to Sergio’s office. “We’re ready.”

  Sergio stood up from his desk. “I’ll be r
ight there.”

  Hayley half expected Sergio to bar them from observing the police lineup, but he didn’t and so she and Bruce quietly followed behind him, hoping he wouldn’t notice them and order them out. Donnie was escorting the desk clerk out of a nearby office, and Hayley recognized him as Petey Shackelford, the inn owner’s son, who had been in Gemma’s class all through high school. He was awkward and agitated, not at all comfortable at being at a police station, let alone serving as a witness.

  He noticed Hayley and gave her a half smile. “Hi, Mrs. Powell.”

  Hayley, who desperately wanted to not be noticed so she and Bruce could stay for the lineup, gave him a quick wave and mouthed “Hello.”

  Sergio excused Donnie and shook Petey’s hand. “Thank you for doing this, Petey.”

  Petey mumbled something, but Hayley couldn’t make out what he had said. Then he turned to Hayley again. “How’s Gemma doing?”

  The question startled her. His attention was back on her. Sergio didn’t appear annoyed that his witness was more focused on talking to Hayley than preparing to pick out a potential murderer, and so Hayley decided to answer his question. “She’s in New York, studying at a culinary institute, doing quite well. She wants to be a caterer or maybe a food critic.”

  “That’s so cool,” Petey said wistfully, with a hint of envy. Right now, the poor kid probably wished he had gotten out of Bar Harbor after high school when he had the chance, instead of being here at the police station.

  “Petey, if you don’t mind . . .” Sergio said patiently, redirecting his attention to the large one-way mirror that gave a full view of a long room where Officer Earl led in four men, all dressed similarly, all with some type of facial hair. Rupert was second from the left, holding a sign in front of him with a number two on it. He was a bundle of nerves and tugged on his long gray beard, his eyes darting back and forth. He could not have looked more guilty if he tried. The other three men appeared relaxed and calm. None of them sported beards that came even close to being as long as Rupert’s. The lineup struck Hayley as a bit unfair, since Rupert stood out so much from the others. It would be hard not to pick him. But still, Petey studied all four men carefully before speaking.

  “Do you see the man you checked into the B and B, Petey?” Sergio asked gently.

  Petey nodded. “I think so.”

  “Can you point him out?”

  Petey nodded again. “Number two . . . I think . . .”

  “You think? You’re not sure?” Sergio asked.

  Petey sighed, looked at all four men again, and then resolutely turned to Sergio. “Number two. I’m sure. One hundred percent.”

  “Okay, thank you, Petey,” Sergio said as Officer Earl escorted the four men back out of the room.

  Sergio turned to Donnie. “Go ahead and place Rupert under arrest.”

  “Sure thing, boss,” Donnie said, unhooking a pair of handcuffs from his belt and dashing off down the hall.

  Hayley turned to Bruce. “I am still not convinced he did it.”

  “Neither am I,” Bruce said. “But Sergio’s got an eyewitness and I suppose we should be grateful.”

  “Grateful? For what?” Hayley asked, confused.

  “Grateful he didn’t arrest your mother. She’s the one with the clear motive.”

  Chapter 16

  “I didn’t kill nobody, Hayley, you have to believe me!” Rupert cried, his bony fingers clutching the bars of his jail cell. After the lineup, Officer Donnie wasted no time in booking and processing Rupert and tossing him in one of the three jail cells located in the back of the police station. Bruce wanted to get back to the office to file his scoop on the arrest of a suspect in the Caskie Lemon-Hogg murder, but Hayley chose not to go with him, telling him she had an errand to run, but neglecting to mention it was sneaking back to the jail cells to talk to Rupert.

  The poor old coot seemed genuinely relieved that someone, anyone, was interested in getting his side of the story at this point, especially Hayley, whose reputation for digging until she unearthed the truth preceded her.

  “I believe you, Rupert, but the desk clerk identified you in the lineup,” Hayley said, studying Rupert’s face on the other side of the bars, which was panic-stricken and confused.

  “It wasn’t me, I swear on my life!” Rupert wailed.

  You just may have to, Hayley thought to herself.

  Rupert reached his arm through the bars of the cell and grabbed Hayley’s hand. “I like you, Hayley, I always have. You’ve always been nice to me when you didn’t have to be, and I appreciate that. You’re one of the few good ones in town.”

  “Thank you, Rupert,” Hayley said, feeling sorry for him.

  “One of the few I can tolerate sober, to be honest!”

  Hayley’s reputation may have preceded her, but so did Rupert’s, as a loud, sometimes disruptive drunk.

  He squeezed her hand so tightly she winced.

  “Please, Hayley, you have to help me. Somebody is setting me up for this murder!”

  “Do you have any idea who would want to do that?”

  Rupert shook his head. “Not a clue.”

  “Where were you last night?”

  Rupert let go of Hayley’s hand and stared at the floor intently. Hayley waited patiently for him to say something.

  A minute went by.

  “Rupert?”

  “I’m thinking . . .”

  “You don’t remember?”

  “I may have had a couple of bourbons yesterday afternoon at your brother’s bar . . .”

  Hayley didn’t need a translation. A couple of bourbons most likely meant a full bottle downed throughout the afternoon until he was so blitzed he couldn’t remember anything after sundown. “What time did you leave?”

  “I remember leaving when it was still light out . . .”

  That wasn’t good, not in Hayley’s mind. If Rupert couldn’t remember where he went and couldn’t provide a rock-solid alibi, then there was no way he could prove he didn’t strangle Caskie.

  “Think, Rupert, think. Where did you go?”

  Rupert was trying real hard, but his memory just wasn’t helping him out. “I remember thumbing a ride on route three . . . a pickup truck pulled over . . .”

  “Do you remember where you were going or who was driving the truck?”

  Rupert concentrated for a few more moments, but then let out a frustrated sigh and mumbled, “No . . .”

  “Who in town drives a pickup truck?”

  “Just about everybody . . .”

  “Mona drives a pickup. Was it Mona?”

  “No, I don’t recall it being a woman.”

  “Was it a man?”

  “Don’t recall that either . . .”

  This was not going to be easy.

  “Rupert, you live on Rodick Street here in town, is that right?”

  “Yup.”

  “Then what were you doing hitchhiking on route three?”

  Rupert shrugged. “I don’t know, Hayley . . . I can’t remember . . . It looks bad for me, doesn’t it?”

  “Just stay calm, Rupert, we’ll figure this out.”

  “I had nothing against Caskie. Hell, I barely knew her. But nobody’s going to listen to an old drunk. They’re going to pin this on me and send me away for the rest of my life, aren’t they?”

  Rupert was shaking now as the reality of his grim situation sunk in and there was very little Hayley could do to keep him from spiraling. He reached back through the bars again to grab her arm. “Please, help me clear my name, Hayley! Don’t let them blame me for this!”

  Hayley found herself saying, “I’ll do my best, Rupert. . .”

  She knew with a positive identification from the desk clerk and Rupert’s fuzzy memory, most people in town would automatically assume he was guilty. She also knew that if by some miracle she was able to prove Rupert’s innocence, that would probably leave her own mother as the last suspect standing.

  Which meant she had to find the real kil
ler and fast.

  Chapter 17

  Sheila was not happy when Hayley returned home later that evening and announced that in her mind Rupert Stiles was innocent of the murder of Caskie Lemon-Hogg. Because Sheila knew if that was true, then the police just might start focusing on her again.

  “Who are we to question the police?” Sheila snapped, hoping Hayley might drop the whole matter, as she stirred a pot of chili on the stove, which she was preparing for their dinner when Bruce finally got home from the office.

  “I just don’t believe he did it,” Hayley said. “He told me he barely knew her.”

  “That’s what he claims, but how can we really be sure? We don’t know what kind of history they may have had, or how he felt about her, or what kind of bad blood there might have been between them.”

  “His alibi is a little shaky, I admit, but I got the feeling he was telling me the truth,” Hayley said.

  “Well, I got a feeling that your father would always be faithful to me and I was wrong about that, so you can’t always trust all of the feelings you get!”

  Hayley didn’t want to argue with her mother. She could tell she was nervous about being on a list of murder suspects and still traumatized by the ordeal of discovering Caskie’s body. She decided to drop the whole matter and instead talk about Sheila’s grandchildren: Gemma, who was thriving in New York, and Dustin, who was studying film animation in California. That lasted two minutes until a pickup truck pulled into the driveway and Mona barreled into the house and announced, “I know who killed Caskie Lemon-Hogg!”

  “Rupert Stiles, that’s who has been arrested and charged with the crime, so there is no need for us to get involved any further!” Sheila exclaimed.

  Hayley, who was grating cheddar cheese to throw on top of the chili, threw her mother an annoyed look before turning back to Mona. “What are you talking about?”

  “I can’t believe I didn’t remember this until today when I heard they arrested Rupert. I saw Caskie yesterday before she was killed!” Mona said matter-of-factly before peering into the pot of chili. “Oh, man, that smells delicious.”