by Lee Hollis
Sergio scratched his chin, still trying to put it all together. “But, Hayley, Regina’s body was a good distance from the blueberry patch with the hive. If we are dealing with a killer, how did he or she know the bees would go after Regina? It’s not as if she was doused in honey.”
“Maybe she knocked into the blueberry patch and she panicked and ran away when the bees swarmed around her, but she didn’t drop dead from her allergic reaction until she got to the point where we found her.”
Sergio considered the theory and nodded slightly. “You could be right. But I’m still not sure.”
Hayley had just come up with this wild murder theory off the top of her head, and so she couldn’t blame Sergio for hesitating to immediately classify Regina Knoxville’s death as a homicide. Because frankly, Hayley wasn’t entirely sure she had it right either. Would somebody actually come all the way out here wearing protective gear, move an active beehive to a blueberry patch, and just hope and pray that Regina would decide to go blueberry picking out in the park on this particular day and just coincidentally walk right into it?
No, there were pieces of the puzzle still missing.
And Hayley was more determined than ever to find them and put them all together.
Chapter 27
Sergio rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger as Sheila, Celeste, and Jane, sitting together on the couch in Hayley’s living room, all chattered at once, their decibel levels rising the more frantic and panicked they got.
Sergio, frustrated, finally shouted at the top of his lungs, “Ladies, please! Calm down! I never meant to imply that you are official suspects when I asked where you were today! I’m not even sure this is a murder case.”
“It is, trust me,” Hayley said.
“Hayley, you’re not helping,” Sergio moaned. “I just want to know in case the autopsy report suggests some kind of foul play.”
Celeste huffed, “I know how you cops operate! You like to lull your suspects into a false sense of security and then you pounce when we least expect it!”
Sheila gasped. “Are you going to arrest me, Sergio, your own mother-in-law?”
“No, Sheila,” Sergio insisted.
“Well I should certainly hope not,” Celeste said. “We all have to live in this town, and it would be hard to maintain a decent reputation if suddenly you booked us for Regina’s murder, not to mention Caskie’s.”
Bruce strolled in from the kitchen with a can of beer, having heard Celeste’s last comment. “Yeah, Sergio, getting arrested for breaking and entering is one thing, but murder? That’s a whole other ball game.”
Sheila stared daggers at Bruce, which he totally missed. He sat down in his recliner and wanted to turn on the TV, but knew it was hardly an appropriate time so he just settled in for the drama unfolding in front of him in the living room.
“Sergio’s just trying to rule you out so he can move on to actual suspects who might have wanted to do away with Regina Knoxville,” Hayley added helpfully.
“Did none of you hear me? This is not a murder case!” Sergio cried.
“Not yet, but it will be. I can feel it in my bones,” Hayley said confidently.
“Well, one thing is for certain. I am in the clear,” Celeste said. “I had an appointment at Julio’s Salon today. He was over in Northeast Harbor doing hair for a bridal party, so I took a chance and let his cousin Juan take care of me. I was rather impressed, don’t you agree?”
“Oh, yes, I love how it’s so beautifully layered,” Sheila said. “He did a wonderful job. It’s hard to believe he is still in training.”
Celeste nodded. “I was going to go for a blunt cut, like what’s-her-name, the one they based that Meryl Streep movie on, about the fashion magazine editor . . .”
“The Devil Wears Prada,” Jane piped in.
“Yes, her. What’s her name?” Celeste said.
“Anna Winter,” Jane said.
“Anna Wintour,” Sheila corrected her.
“Yes, I was in the mood for something different, almost a bob, but then I thought, what the heck, let Juan work with what I’ve got.”
“That’s the perfect style for a woman with thinning hair,” Jane said.
Celeste deflated right in front of their eyes. “What?”
Sheila was quick to rush in and patch up the wound. “She just means it’s nice your hair isn’t so puffy, right, Jane?”
“She’s got thinning hair. What’s the big deal? It’s not a crime,” Jane said, her giant faux pas still completely lost on her.
Sergio had heard enough. “Ladies, can we please get back to the crime at hand?”
“See? You said crime! You think Regina was murdered too!” Hayley cried, pointing a finger at Sergio.
Sergio dropped his head. “There’s no harm in gathering a few facts in case I might need them later.”
“When you classify Regina’s death as a homicide,” Hayley said.
“If.” Sergio sighed.
“Girls, please, Sergio would like us to focus,” Sheila said with a tight smile, nervously glancing over at Celeste, who now appeared to be having a silent meltdown. “We know Celeste was at the hairdresser’s this afternoon. What about you, Jane?”
“I was babysitting my grandchildren, and let me tell you, after four hours with those hellions, I have to say I wish I was out in the park killing Regina Knoxville!”
“Jane! You’re not helping your case!” Sheila admonished.
Sergio sighed. “Sheila?”
“Well, obviously I could not have done it. I was with Hayley and Bruce and Carl Flippen in the park. We were on a double date,” Sheila said.
“You like Carl, don’t you?” Jane said, grinning. Sheila playfully swatted Jane on the knee. “We’ll talk later.”
Sergio sighed. “What about in the morning before you left for the park?”
Sheila shrugged. “I was at Hayley’s house.”
Bruce cleared his throat. “Except for when you went out to pick up lunch. You were gone almost two hours. I thought we were going to have to send out a search party.”
Sheila glared at him, and he realized he was not exactly helping her case, so he just chugged some more of his beer.
“I couldn’t decide on what sandwiches we should have for our picnic. I didn’t want to serve something Carl didn’t like so I decided to have plenty of everything and went to the grocery store, some takeout restaurants, the bakery. I’m sure the workers there will remember me.”
“I’m sure they will too.” Bruce laughed before catching himself and getting serious. “Which means you’ll be in the clear!”
“Hayley, do you think my hair is thinning?” Celeste asked, bereft and cheerless as she checked herself out in a compact mirror she had grabbed from her purse.
“You have beautiful hair, Celeste. I wish I had hair like yours,” Hayley said reassuringly.
Sheila was done being interrogated and wanted the attention off herself and her friends. “Listen, Sergio, I appreciate the fact that you have to speak to everyone who disliked Caskie and Regina, and I imagine it’s a very long list. But have you considered the fact that we might have a serial killer on the loose who is targeting older women?”
“In Bar Harbor?” Bruce asked incredulously.
“Just because we live on such a beautiful, picturesque island doesn’t mean there aren’t ugly things around us,” Sheila argued.
Celeste gasped. “You mean we could be potential victims?”
Jane sat up. “If it gets me out of babysitting my awful grandchildren ever again, I say take me, take me!”
Sergio raised his hands to try to get control of the room one more time. “Ladies, I honestly don’t think we’re dealing with a serial killer, but I will not rule anything out at this point, okay?”
“If anyone had thinning hair, it was Caskie Lemon-Hogg,” Celeste suddenly announced. “To be perfectly frank, I think they put a wig on her for the funeral. It did not look at all natural.”
“Do you really think so?” Sheila asked.
“It took every ounce of self-control for me not to reach down into the casket and give it a tug.”
“You’re probably right. Everything else about her was fake, so why not her hair?” Jane offered.
“She was such a despicable woman,” Celeste said.
“God, I couldn’t stand the sight of her,” Sheila said, nodding vigorously.
“Regina too,” Jane said, staring off into space.
“You know, in some ways, Regina was worse,” Sheila said.
“Mom, you three are not exactly proving your innocence by constantly bad-mouthing the two murder victims!”
Sergio interrupted her. “Hayley, I never said Regina was—”
“I know, I know. But you will,” Hayley said, brimming with confidence.
“She’s usually right, Sergio,” Bruce added.
Sergio tried plowing ahead. “I spoke to Regina’s husband, Albert, and he confirmed that she was allergic to bees.”
“What was she doing all that way out in the park picking blueberries?” Hayley asked.
“According to Albert, once a week, usually every Saturday, Regina would go out and pick blueberries. She found it calming and she liked helping Caskie out with her blueberry business. She’d always keep a few baskets to make pancakes and muffins for Albert. After Caskie died, she didn’t want to stop and so she decided to keep the tradition going in honor of Caskie’s memory.”
“That’s sweet,” Hayley said.
“I don’t buy it,” Jane huffed. “I bet Regina just wanted to take over the business.”
“Why would she need it? Isn’t Albert loaded?” Celeste asked.
“Maybe the killer already knew Regina’s schedule and the exact spot where she would usually go to pick blueberries, and that’s how he or she knew where to place the beehive,” Hayley surmised.
“But how did the killer know Regina was allergic to bees?” Bruce asked.
“Everyone knew, at least I did,” Sheila said. “I remember back when we were in high school we went on a field trip with our science class taught by Mr. Long . . .”
“Oh, Mr. Long! What a dreamboat! He was so handsome,” Celeste gushed. “I had a mad crush on him! I know at the time I was just a teenage girl, but I am confident he had a little thing for me too . . .”
“He must have liked girls with thin hair,” Jane couldn’t resist commenting.
Celeste wilted again.
“I had a big crush on him too!” Sheila continued. “Anyway, I remember we were in the park studying nature, like plants or wildlife or some such thing, who can really remember stuff like that, and Regina got stung by a bee and her face just blew up!”
Jane scrunched her nose. “I don’t remember that.”
“You probably skipped school again that day, which is why you barely graduated, dear,” Celeste said, a vengeful look on her face.
“It was horrible,” Sheila said. “She couldn’t breathe and her face looked like a big red beach ball! Mr. Long picked her up in his arms and ran her to the school bus and we all piled on and raced to the hospital. I remember thinking God, I wish that was me being carried in Mr. Long’s arms! Why Regina? I hate her so much!” Sheila was lost in thought for a few seconds.
“I thought you liked Mr. Cadwell, our history teacher?” Jane asked.
“What, I can’t have a crush on more than one teacher?” Sheila snapped. “Anyway, we got her there in the nick of time and she got a shot and everything turned out fine. She had to stay home sick for a few days, and Mr. Long made us write ‘get well soon’ cards. I worked really hard on mine, not because I liked Regina, I just wanted to impress Mr. Long, and it worked because he said mine was the best! I wonder if he’s still alive . . .”
“We could look him up on Facebook!” Jane suggested.
Before Sheila had a chance to jump up and run to the nearest computer, Sergio stepped in front of her. “So you’re telling me you knew Regina was allergic to bees?”
“Yes, as do all the living students of our graduating class,” Sheila said sourly.
“Except Jane, because she was a truant.” Celeste sniffed.
Hayley caught Bruce smirking. He was enjoying watching his mother-in-law continue to incriminate herself without even knowing it.
Chapter 28
Hayley sat up in bed, her arms folded, her mind racing. The lamp on her night table was still shining brightly as Bruce burrowed underneath the covers next to her, a pillow tossed over his head, held down by the crook of his arm in a desperate bid to block out the light.
“Regina’s death was obviously no accident, don’t you agree, Bruce?”
Bruce didn’t answer her, and Hayley knew he was just pretending to be asleep so she nudged him a little. “Bruce?”
“Yes, yes, I agree,” he mumbled. “Can we talk about this in the morning?”
“I mean it’s too much of a coincidence that Regina just happened to be allergic to bees and then someone placed a man-made beehive in the bushes where she picks blueberries every Saturday, am I right?”
Nothing.
Hayley cleared her throat, followed by another little nudge.
“You’re right, you’re right . . .” Bruce groaned.
“Maybe Mom is on to something. Maybe there is some mad killer on the loose who is targeting women of a certain age. At least I have nothing to worry about. I mean, I am way too young to fit the profile . . .”
Hayley waited for her husband to second that motion.
He didn’t.
“Bruce?”
“Way too young . . .” he grumbled into his pillow.
“Decades too young . . .”
Bruce tossed the pillow aside, threw off the covers and sat up until he was eye level with Hayley. “I know you can’t sleep, and your brain is working overtime, but, honey, mine isn’t. I’m tired and I have a lot of work to do at the office tomorrow, and I really, really need to get some shut-eye so can we please table this discussion until morning?”
Hayley reached over and kissed him sweetly on the cheek. “Yes, I’m sorry. Go to sleep. I’ll stop talking.”
Bruce sighed. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Hayley said, reaching over to shut off the lamp on her nightstand.
They snuggled together underneath the covers, Hayley turning over to one side, and Bruce spooning her with an arm slung around her waist, and they closed their eyes.
Not even thirty seconds passed before they heard screaming.
Bruce tightened his grip in surprise. “What the—?”
Hayley freed herself, quickly shot back up in bed and turned on the light. “It’s my mother!”
Before either of them had time to jump out of bed, the door swung open and Sheila came barreling into the room, panting and crying.
“Mom, what is it? What happened?”
She stood there, breathless for a moment, her eyes bulging out of her head, her hand to her mouth. She took some time to calm herself down before finally speaking. “I had a nightmare . . .”
“What kind of nightmare?” Bruce asked, not really wanting to hear what she had to say, but feeling obligated since the poor woman was standing at the foot of his bed in a puddle of tears.
“I was being strangled by a man. I couldn’t see his face because it was dark, but I felt his hot breath on my neck . . .”
“Are you sure it wasn’t Leroy, sneaking up on your bed trying to cuddle?” Bruce asked seriously.
“I think I would know if it was a dog, Bruce,” Sheila snapped. “I couldn’t breathe and I thought I was going to die . . .”
“How could your mind not go there after what’s happened to Caskie and Regina?” Hayley said, trying to comfort her mother. “I was just saying to Bruce that you have every right to be scared, right, Bruce?”
Bruce nodded as he yawned.
Sheila sat down on the edge of the bed. “I just hope Sergio starts focusing on who is responsible instead of consta
ntly grilling me, Celeste, and Jane about where we were every time this happens! I mean, it’s ridiculous to think my own son-in-law suspects me of doing such a vile, contemptible act . . . twice! You’re my son-in-law too, Bruce. You don’t believe I’m capable of anything like that, do you?”
“No, ma’am,” Bruce blurted out.
“Sergio is just doing his job, Mom. Of course he doesn’t actually think you did anything,” Hayley said.
“I’m beginning to wonder,” Sheila said before she started staring at Bruce. “I didn’t know you slept like that, Bruce.”
“Like what?” Bruce asked.
“Without a shirt.”
Bruce looked down at his bare chest and suddenly began to feel self-conscious. “Um, yes, I guess I do.”
“What’s wrong with that, Mom?” Hayley asked.
“Nothing, it just surprises me, that’s all. Your father loved sleeping naked.”
Bruce raised his hand. “For the record, I’m wearing boxer shorts.”
“I just always had the impression, you know, before the two of you got married, when you just worked together, that you were a little uptight, so I always envisioned you as the pajama type.”
“Mom!”
“What? I’m just being honest,” Sheila protested.
“Let’s go back for a second,” Bruce said, shifting in bed uncomfortably. “You envisioned me in bed?”
“Oh my God!” Hayley wailed.
“Oh, don’t make such a big deal out of it, Hayley, I picture lots of men in bed. That doesn’t mean I want to be in there with them!”
There was an awkward silence.
“I really want to put on a T-shirt right now,” Bruce said, reaching down and searching the floor for one he discarded earlier.
Suddenly they heard a high-pitched screeching sound coming from underneath the bed and Bruce yelped in pain.
Blueberry scooted out from under the bed and bolted for the door, slipping on the hardwood floor as he rounded the corner. Bruce held up his hand. It was bloody from a deep scratch.
“Look what that damn cat just did to me!” Bruce howled.
“I’ll get some peroxide and a washcloth!” Sheila said, leaping up and racing out the door.
