Death of a Cookbook Author

by Lee Hollis

  “That is the most preposterous, bogus, unsubstantiated load of bull crap I have ever heard in my life!” Hayley heard Penelope scream from inside Sergio’s office.

  When Penelope had arrived, Hayley had decided it might not be a good idea for the food maven to see her hanging around, so she slipped into Officer Donnie’s cubicle and buried her face in a magazine, concealing herself from Penelope’s view as she made her grand entrance into the station and marched inside the police chief’s office for questioning. But Sergio had strategically left his door open a crack so Hayley would be able to hear their conversation.

  Their very prickly and tense conversation, as it happened.

  “It is hardly unsubstantiated, Mrs. Janice,” Sergio said calmly. “We have your text on Miss Hendricks’s phone.”

  “But it wasn’t from me! I didn’t send any text to Lena that night! I swear on my life!”

  “The text came from your number.”

  “Well, then someone must have gotten ahold of my phone and sent that text to Lena so Lena would think it was from me!”

  “Well, who do you think would have done that?”

  “I have no idea!” Penelope wailed.

  “Who else in the house has access to your phone?”

  There was a pause.

  Hayley was frustrated.

  She wanted to be in Sergio’s office, studying Penelope’s face to see if she could tell if she was lying or trying to hide something.

  “No one!” Penelope declared.

  “You hesitated,” Sergio said quietly.

  “I was thinking! You asked me who had access, I was running names through my mind and I came up with no one! Nobody else has access to my phone! I keep it on my person at all times in case the network, or production company, or my managers call me. I am a very busy woman!”

  “Please don’t leave town, Mrs. Janice,” Sergio said sternly. “At least until we get this all sorted.”

  “I don’t believe this! You’re treating me like a common criminal!” she screeched.

  “I’m just trying to get to the bottom of all this,” Sergio said.

  Penelope stormed out of the office in a huff and marched down the hall right past Hayley, who covered her face with a copy of People magazine. Penelope blew by and out the door, slamming it behind her to make the point she was not leaving a happy woman.

  Hayley peered above the top of the magazine to make sure she was really gone before jumping up and bolting into Sergio’s office.

  “Well, what do you think?” Hayley asked breathlessly.

  “When I asked her who else had access to her phone, I could tell she was thinking of someone specific, but she didn’t dare say the name.”

  Who?

  Who was Penelope protecting if she was not the one who sent that text to Lena?

  Sergio’s phone rang and he scooped up the receiver. “Chief Alvares.”

  Hayley watched Sergio’s face as he listened to the caller.

  His stony expression melted, replaced by surprise and concern. He nodded solemnly, thanked whoever was on the other end, and hung up.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Lena Hendricks didn’t make it. She died earlier this morning,” he whispered.

  Hayley wasn’t expecting this. She thought of Lena as so young and strong. She just assumed that she would somehow pull through this.

  But she was wrong.

  And now they were dealing with a homicide.

  Chapter 27

  Hayley knocked on Bruce’s office door at the Island Times, and without waiting for permission to enter, breezed inside. She stopped dead in her tracks at the sight of a smiling, bright-eyed Jillian plopped comfortably down in a chair opposite Bruce’s desk.

  “Hi!” Jillian chirped, waving at Hayley.

  “Hello,” Hayley answered evenly, not sure why she was so thrown by Jillian’s unexpected presence.

  Hayley turned to Bruce. “You wanted to see me?”

  “Yes, come in,” Bruce said, feet up on his desk, hands clasped behind his head. “I came across some very interesting information I think you will want to know about.”

  Hayley entered the cramped office, but there was nowhere for her to sit down because Jillian was occupying the only chair, so she stiffly leaned up against the wall and awkwardly folded her arms across her chest.

  “My old college roommate Steven Farley is a business reporter at the Times in New York,” Bruce said, sliding his feet off his desk and leaning forward, typing a few keys on his computer.

  “He’s a real cutie! Bruce showed me his picture on Facebook,” Jillian cooed. “But he’s not as adorable as you are, Bruce.”

  “Aww, you’re so sweet,” Bruce said, cheeks blushing a rosy red, turning his computer screen around so Hayley could see a photo of Steven on his Facebook page.

  He was handsome, she had to admit.

  “Is that the big news you wanted to tell me?” Hayley asked, quickly losing patience.

  “Of course not,” Bruce said. “Steven tracks and writes all about corporate business mergers, and last night when we were on the phone planning our upcoming college reunion weekend next month, I casually mentioned that I had spent the weekend at Penelope Janice’s estate investigating her husband’s nosedive off that cliff. Well, he told me about a proposed merger that is very close to getting federal approval between Penelope’s company and, wait for it, Gerard Roquefort’s company.”

  “They are going to become business partners?”

  “Individually their companies are very successful, but together they will instantly become a mega-sized cooking and lifestyle empire!” Bruce yelled, slamming the palm of his hand down on his desk.

  “Oh, Brucey, I love watching you get all excited over a story!” Jillian interjected, staring goggle-eyed at Bruce before turning to Hayley. “He’s like a little boy on Christmas morning who gets the train set he really, really wanted, right, Hayley?”

  “So cute,” Hayley said, barely managing to put a lid on her sarcasm.

  Bruce scowled at Hayley before he continued. “And that’s not all. Apparently, according to Steven’s sources, the merger isn’t just in the boardroom.”

  “They’re having an affair?” Hayley gasped.

  Jillian gasped too just so she could remain included in the conversation.

  Bruce nodded. “While they were both in New York for merger talks, they were spotted together all over the city, holding hands at Hamilton, having a romantic dinner at Gramercy Tavern, and according to one source, they even shared a suite at the St. Regis.”

  “So they aren’t exactly being discreet,” Hayley said.

  “The word Steven’s source used was ‘flagrant,’” Bruce said.

  Jillian raised her hand.

  Hayley and Bruce exchanged a look and then Bruce said, as if calling on a student in the back row of a classroom with a question, “Yes, Jillian?”

  “What’s flagrant mean? I’ve never heard that word,” Jillian said shyly, embarrassed she had to ask.

  “Blatant, as if flaunting their secret relationship, very open about it in public . . .” Hayley said, trying to help.

  After a few seconds, the word finally registered with Jillian and she slapped her forehead with the palm of her hand. “Oh, okay! I get it! Well, it sounds like they were! Flagrant, I mean.”

  “I can’t believe it. We’ve been so focused on Conrad’s extramarital affair with Lena that we completely ignored the possibility that Penelope may have been cheating as well,” Hayley said, shaking her head.

  “So here is what we have so far. Penelope was cheating on Conrad with Gerard. And Conrad was cheating on Penelope with Lena,” Bruce said.

  “If Conrad opposed the merger and wanted to stop it because he was threatened by Gerard coming in and having undue influence over Penelope’s company stocks and cash reserves because they were sexually involved, one way to do that is to plot Penelope’s murder with his mistress Lena, which is exactly what I heard happening
the night I got food poisoning,” Hayley said.

  “And maybe after you alerted Penelope, she was the one who gave her husband a hard shove off that cliff before he had the chance to carry out his plot to kill her,” Hayley said, her mind racing. “But then who tried to kill Lena?”

  “That’s where Jillian comes in,” Bruce said proudly.

  Jillian smiled, and then as a thought popped in her head, her eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets. “I didn’t kill her!”

  “We know, Jillian. I’m talking about what you came here and told me this morning. I want you to tell Hayley,” Bruce said patiently.

  “Oh, right,” Jillian said, sitting up straight in her chair, adjusting her breasts slightly, and slapping a very serious, businesslike expression on her face. “Well, as you know, Hayley, I work part-time at the Bar Harbor Banking and Trust . . ”

  “I didn’t know that,” Hayley said.

  “No? I’ve been there about eight months. My Aunt Cissy works there. Gosh, she’s probably been there something like twenty, maybe thirty years. She’s in charge of hiring tellers, and so she brought me in part-time when one of the girls, Elise, went on maternity leave . . ” Jillian said, before lowering her voice to a whisper. “Elise got knocked up by one of the married vice presidents, but that’s all on the down low, if you know what I mean. The official story is the baby was fathered by some ex-boyfriend from Boston who was in town one weekend, but we all know that man doesn’t even exist—”

  “Jillian! Sweetheart! Hayley doesn’t care about any of this!” Bruce yelled, exasperated.

  “Actually I’m riveted, but maybe you can finish telling me about all that over coffee sometime,” Hayley said.

  “Oh, I’d love to! I’ve always thought we’d make great friends!” Jillian said. “We have so much in common!”

  Besides Bruce, Hayley couldn’t think of one thing.

  “Jillian,” Bruce said through gritted teeth.

  “Oh, right! Well, Elise came back recently, but Aunt Cissy still calls me to fill in when a teller is out sick, which was what happened last week. I was asked to confirm some deposits on a few accounts, and one very large amount stuck out to me because it was over ten thousand dollars, and whenever we record a deposit over ten thousand dollars we have to get approval, which I did. But when I pulled up the account on my computer at the request of the customer who wanted to make sure the money was available for withdrawal, I noticed there were several more deposits in that same amount.”

  “Lena Hendricks!” Hayley guessed.

  “Well, I’m really not supposed to say any names, because private banking information is strictly confidential . . .” Jillian said. “But . . .”

  She began nodding her head up and down vigorously.

  “And were the deposits from Penelope Janice’s account?” Hayley asked, eyes fixed on Jillian.

  “Well, like I said, I’m not supposed to say . . .” Jillian said.

  She was now nodding so hard it would be a miracle if her head didn’t hurt.

  “Were the ten-thousand-dollar deposits in addition to her regular income as Penelope’s assistant and ghostwriter?” Hayley asked.

  “They seemed to be, yes,” Jillian said, before clasping a hand over her mouth and looking around to make sure no one outside Bruce’s office had heard her. “I mean . . .”

  Jillian nodded wildly as if having some sort of seizure.

  “So you believe Lena was blackmailing Penelope. . .” Hayley surmised before turning to Jillian. “When did the large deposits start appearing in Lena’s account?”

  “A few weeks ago,” Jillian said, not realizing she was now speaking and not just nodding her pretty head with the perfectly coiffured hair.

  “Well, that blows a hole in your blackmail theory because Penelope was handing over these large sums of money long before Conrad died,” Hayley said, frustrated.

  “Maybe she was blackmailing her about something else. What about the affair with Gerard? Lena could have been having a secret affair with Conrad while at the same time extorting money from Penelope with the secret she knew about her boss’s own affair with her future business partner,” Bruce said.

  “You guys are so smart!” Jillian said, looking from one to the other, beaming.

  Bruce offered Jillian a dismissive smile before turning back to Hayley. “Let’s say Lena was blackmailing Penelope and threatening to expose her affair with Gerard to Conrad. She was receiving cash payments to stay quiet. And maybe she was also sleeping with Conrad on the side, and Conrad wanted Penelope out of the way so he could be with Lena and inherit all of his wife’s money before the merger. But then you alerted Penelope to what they were up to, which led to her giving Conrad the ole heave-ho off that cliff while he was drunk.”

  “Lena either saw Penelope kill her husband or had proof that she did the deed, so the blackmailing continued,” Hayley said.

  Bruce jumped in. “That would give Penelope a very strong motive to get rid of Lena! She rigged the cat food dispenser with the chemicals, texted Lena to go feed the cat, and then locked her inside just before the timer was set to go off. It all makes sense. But we have no evidence to prove any of this.”

  “I still feel Penelope is too smart to text Lena from her own phone,” Hayley said, starting to pace back and forth in Bruce’s cramped office, but the space was so tight she finally gave up.

  “How do we prove that any of this speculation is true?” Bruce asked.

  A lightbulb suddenly went off in Hayley’s head and she smiled. “I know a way!”

  Both Bruce and Jillian leaned forward, filled with curiosity.

  Hayley turned, a conspiratorial look on her face. “What if we caught her in the act of trying again?”

  Chapter 28

  Hayley was understandably nervous. She was back at Penelope Janice’s estate, after all that had happened. She never dreamed she would ever return here after being accused of making up wild stories, shunned by the VIP guest list, twice attacked by some dangerous, marauding assailant. If she never set foot near this place again, it would be too soon.

  But she had to come. She was on a mission, one that she had carefully planned out with Police Chief Sergio Alvares and, to her surprise, a remarkably supportive Bruce Linney. And yes, to some extent, the plucky and excitable Jillian.

  When Hayley called Sergio after leaving Bruce’s office with the new information she had, Sergio immediately was on board with what Hayley had in mind, although he was worried about the very serious risk.

  Hayley tried putting his mind at ease by brushing aside his concerns. She could handle it. Besides, nothing was going to stop her from finding out the truth, and she felt strongly in her bones that they were getting very close to some long-awaited answers.

  Pam, the perky maid who had first welcomed Hayley to the Fourth of July celebrity potluck weekend, wasn’t so perky now. In fact, as she led Hayley to the kitchen, she was scowling, which began the moment she answered the door and saw Hayley standing on the stoop. The household staff had believed they had seen the last of her and her disruptive antics, and were probably hoping without her around anymore the household could return to a sense of normalcy.

  But no such luck.

  Pam sighed and waved Hayley inside. She was rather curt with her when she told her Penelope was cooking in the kitchen and did not want to be disturbed. Hayley insisted it was important that she speak with her, and after a flurry of phone calls, Penelope’s permission had been granted, and they were finally making their way there.

  Pam stopped just short of the kitchen and gestured for Hayley to enter. When Hayley passed her, Pam did an about-face and scurried off, having no intention of being included in what promised to be a very tense conversation given the circumstances of Hayley’s unceremonious departure the day before.

  Penelope was braising some beef with loyal and devoted Clara at her side when Hayley quietly walked toward them. Penelope slowly raised her eyes to Hayley, gave her a slight nod, and
went back to what she was doing, leaving Hayley just standing there, arms folded in front of her, waiting.

  Penelope took her sweet time, whistling a tune, making a silent point of letting Hayley know that she was not at the moment even close to being a priority. Penelope finally decided the beef looked moist enough so she slid the roasting pan over to Clara, who picked it up and carried it to the oven.

  Penelope casually brushed the front of her apron with her hands, and finally glanced up, tossing her hair back, and with a hard look, said, “Yes, Hayley? How can I help you?”

  Hayley cleared her throat nervously.

  More for effect than from actual nerves.

  She wanted to give Penelope the impression that right now she had the upper hand.

  “I just want to apologize for everything,” Hayley lied.

  She knew there was nothing she had done that warranted an apology.

  Penelope softened slightly, took her apron off and folded it up, then set it down on one of the counters.

  “I see . . .”

  “I’ve been going over everything in my mind, and maybe you were right that I wasn’t thinking clearly when I was ill from food poisoning . . .”

  She noticed Clara flinching as she slid the roasting pan into the oven.

  “I may have let my imagination run wild a bit . . .” Hayley said apologetically.

  Penelope watched her silently, trying to gauge her sincerity.

  Hayley worked hard to pretend this was not a well-rehearsed performance. “And then I got so paranoid, like everybody was out to get me, and well, oh, Penelope, I just feel awful about all that’s happened!”

  “Well, you can’t blame yourself for everything. You may have gotten a little carried away with your stories, but it’s not your fault Conrad fell off that cliff or that poor, poor Lena got caught in that horrific fire . . .” Penelope said solemnly, wiping a stray tear away as it ran down her cheek.

  “You must miss him so much . . .” Hayley said.

  “Who?”

  “Conrad.”

  Penelope caught herself and nodded quickly. “Yes, of course. We were married for a long, long time.”

  Her words were mechanical, rehearsed.