by Leslie Meier
Chapter Six
“Wendi Jo would never just up and disappear like this,” Dottie Willis wailed, tears streaming down her chubby cheeks as she twisted a finger through her overly bleached platinum blond hair. “Never, never, never . . .”
Beatrice Lumley, one of Dottie’s closest friends, hugged Dottie, stretching her rail-thin arms around Dottie’s plus-size figure as far as she could. “She’ll show up, Dottie. She’s alive and well. I can feel it in my bones. It’s a strong feeling despite my osteoporosis.”
“I just don’t understand . . .” Dottie muttered, shaking her head. “This is so unlike Wendi Jo to scare me like this . . . unless she has been kidnapped and being held against her will somewhere!”
Ethel Morton, another friend, frantically waved her hands in front of her face. “Don’t even let your mind go there, Dottie!”
Her third pal, who was there to comfort Dottie, Mildred Atkins, nodded in agreement. “We have to stay positive. Maybe she just left town to visit a friend and forgot to tell you.”
“Wendi Jo tells me everything!” Dottie wailed before breaking down again. Beatrice got tired of holding her and finally let go and stepped back, leaving Dottie to stand in the middle of the room, basically hugging herself. “She would not leave town and not tell me! Something awful has happened to her! I just know it!”
Hattie hadn’t expected to find three friends of Dottie’s already on the scene when they came calling, but Dottie explained that she and the women played cards every Wednesday and had already scheduled a game at Dottie’s house for that day, which they promptly cancelled after hearing the disturbing news about Wendi Jo’s sudden disappearance.
Hayley stood off to the side of Dottie Willis’s living room, next to Hattie, who kept her arms folded across her chest, supremely uncomfortable with all the heightened tension and emotion permeating the room.
“If someone did forcibly take Wendi Jo somewhere, do you have any idea who it could have been?” Hayley gently asked.
“No! I don’t have a clue! Everyone loved Wendi Jo! She didn’t have an enemy in the world!” Dottie cried.
Beatrice, Ethel, and Mildred all stared at the floor to avoid eye contact with each other. It was obvious they didn’t agree with Dottie’s assessment of her daughter’s enduring popularity. Neither did Hayley, having witnessed the blistering altercation Wendi Jo had on the Salinger property with the man of the house.
The long pause in the conversation was excruciating, finally broken by Hattie erupting in a coughing fit.
“Excuse me . . .” Hattie said with a scratchy, weak voice when she finally finished hacking and choking.
“She would never go this long without coming to see me! She stops by here all the time!” Dottie wailed, starting her crying jag all over again. “I even leave a key to the house under the flowerpot out on the front porch so she can let herself in when I’m not here!”
Dottie’s three friends rushed in for a group hug. The rotund Ethel nearly knocked the wispy Beatrice off her feet in order to get to Dottie first, and the tall, imposing Mildred came in last, drawing the whole group toward her with her long, outstretched arms. Dottie remained buried in the middle, sobbing.
Hattie, who appeared annoyed that there were so many women already here when they showed up to comfort Dottie, huffed, “Well, I can see you’re in good hands, Dottie, so Hayley and I should probably get back to the paper.”
“Thank you for stopping by, Hattie. It means the world to me. You too, Hayley . . .” Dottie sniffed from inside the crush of women around her.
“I’m sure she’ll turn up soon with a perfectly reasonable explanation,” Hayley said, although she wasn’t sure she believed it. She had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that just wouldn’t go away.
Hayley noticed Mildred glaring at them, her eyes almost ordering them to leave. She was either being overly protective of Dottie or she didn’t appreciate the competition for being the most supportive friend in a crisis.
As Hayley and Hattie made their way to the door, Hayley heard Mildred take charge. “Ethel, you go put a pot of coffee on. I’m going to help Dottie to her room so she can lie down for a bit. Beatrice, you stay by the phone in case Chief Alvares calls.”
Outside Dottie’s modest house at the shady end of Hancock Street with its towering trees and gravel walkway to the Shore Path, Hayley and Hattie were almost to Hattie’s car when they heard the front door open behind them. They turned around to see Beatrice, wrapping her Autumn Burgundy Liz Claiborne cardigan tightly around her as the chilly fall air caused her whole body to shake. She scurried down the walk to catch them before they got into the car. “Ladies, wait . . .”
Hattie clutched her car keys in her hand and sighed impatiently. “What is it, Bea? We have to get back to work.”
“I don’t want you two to worry about Wendi Jo. I’m certain she’s just fine,” Beatrice said.
“How do you know that?” Hayley asked.
“Because Dottie, God love her, is in total denial. All of us, me, Ethel, Mildred and yes, Dottie herself, know what really happened.”
“Well, now you’ve got me curious,” Hattie said. “Go on, Bea. Don’t keep us in suspense. Get to the point before we catch a cold out here. At eighty-nine, I need to be careful.”
“Dottie and Wendi Jo have been fighting for months over the fact that Wendi Jo has been seeing a new beau . . .”
“And Dottie doesn’t approve?” Hayley guessed.
“Not in the least, because her new boyfriend happens to be married,” Beatrice whispered.
“Do you know who it is?” Hattie asked, smelling a scoop.
Beatrice shook her head. “Dottie has kept mum about the man’s identity mostly out of respect for his wife, who is clearly in the dark. You know what they say about the wife being the last to know. . . .”
“So what, you think Wendi Jo and the married guy ran off together?” Hattie asked.
“Yes! Wendi Jo has been threatening to do just that for months, but Dottie didn’t believe her! She never thought the man would leave his wife and she just could not accept the fact that her daughter is a home wrecker, which is why she’d rather believe she’s the victim of foul play!”
Hayley and Hattie exchanged a glance, neither quite ready to accept Beatrice’s theory.
Beatrice sensed their trepidation and pressed further. “Trust me. We all know Wendi Jo doesn’t have the personality God gave an eggplant. This married man is going to get bored with her very quickly and eventually go home to his wife, and then Wendi Jo will come crying to her mother. As for Dottie, well, I’m sure she will forgive her baby girl mostly because it will give her the opportunity to unleash an avalanche of ‘I told you so’s . . .’ which is Dottie’s favorite pasttime besides a good card game.”
Hayley nodded. “Thanks for the info, Beatrice.”
“I better get back inside and pretend to be worried,” she chirped before turning around and bounding toward the house.
“Do you think she’s right?” Hayley asked Hattie, who was unlocking the car door on the driver’s side.
Hattie shrugged. “How the hell do I know? I don’t trust any of them.”
“Why not?”
“They never invited me to play cards.”
Chapter Seven
Hayley clutched the phone to her ear. “So it’s now officially a missing person case?”
“As of late this afternoon when Dottie still hadn’t heard from her,” Hayley’s brother Randy answered. “Sergio also got Dottie to spill the beans on Wendi Jo’s secret married boyfriend. Turns out it is Buster Higgins.”
“No!” Hayley gasped. “Buster is so reliable and devoted to his wife, Kathy. He’s like a loyal basset hound.”
“Kind of looks like one, too,” Randy said.
“I can’t imagine him cheating on anyone,” Hayley said, disappointed.
“Apparently, Wendi Jo hired Buster to do some repair work on one of her houses she was trying to sell,
and one rainy afternoon, when the two of them were in the basement inspecting a leaky drain pipe, one thing led to another. . .”
“This is so disheartening. Buster, of all people . . . I mean, I can totally see Wendi Jo putting the moves on him in a basement. She’s the epitome of the other woman.”
“Sergio stopped by the Higgins house and found Buster at home having dinner with Kathy so that kind of blew a hole through Beatrice’s theory of Buster and Wendi Jo running off together.”
“Sergio didn’t ask Buster about his affair with Wendi Jo in front of Kathy, did he?”
“Fortunately not. I mean, Sergio can be rather blunt when he’s investigating a case, but I begged him to get Buster to come down to the station for questioning and not destroy a marriage before all the facts were in,” Randy said.
“Poor Kathy . . .” Hayley said, her voice trailing off.
“I know. It’s bad enough that your husband is having an affair behind your back, but then to find out it’s with Wendi Jo Willis? I would kill myself.”
“So the big question now is, if Wendi Jo didn’t run off with her married boyfriend, then what did happen to her?” Hayley wondered.
Danny wandered into the kitchen and pointed out the window. “We know what happened! The answer is right next door!”
Hayley sighed. “Listen, I’ve got to go, Randy. Keep me posted.”
“Will do,” Randy said and hung up.
Hayley put down the phone. “Danny, you have to stop this. Our new neighbors are not the Manson Family.”
“How do we really know that? We all saw Wendi Jo arguing with that weirdo Damien Salinger! And what about him dragging something in that tarp! The kids swear they saw it and we raised them to never lie!”
“That doesn’t mean they saw a dead body rolled up in that tarp! It was dark outside! Maybe it was something that just looked like a body!”
“Come on, babe. I think we should poke around some more and get the real story on that creepy family. Something’s just not right and you know it.”
“We are not detectives, and this isn’t some Alfred Hitchcock movie. I’m not going to spy on the neighbors. It would set a bad example for the kids. Let the police handle it.”
“Sergio? He couldn’t find a taco chip in a Mexican restaurant.”
“Hey! That’s my brother’s boyfriend you’re talking about and he is a fine chief of police, so you better stop badmouthing him right now!”
“Sergio’s all right. But we have a distinct advantage. We’re closer to the crime scene. It’s right next door!”
“There is no crime scene, Danny! I’m warning you, do not keep talking about your suspicions in front of the kids. I don’t want them exposed to all this dark subject matter. Do you hear me?”
“Yeah . . . Fine . . . whatever . . .” Danny sighed.
“Danny . . .”
“Okay, yes, I’ll keep my mouth shut.”
The doorbell rang, and after shooting Danny one last look of warning, Hayley spun around and marched down the hall to the front door and swung it open. Damien Salinger stood on the porch steps, with Gemma on one side of him and Dustin on the other. He gripped them both by the back of their necks and was boiling with anger. Both kids looked down at their shoes, avoiding eye contact with their mother at all costs.
“Hello, Damien,” Hayley said warily as she eyed her two kids in his grip.
“I caught these rug rats peeking through my windows while we were having dinner!” Damien said gruffly.
“W-What?” Hayley sputtered before glaring down at her two children, both of whom had guilt written all over their faces.
“I thought Rosemary was going to have a heart attack when she spotted them with their noses pressed to the glass! Gave her a good scare!”
The sound of Damien’s voice drew Danny from the kitchen. “What’s going on?”
Hayley folded her arms. “Damien—I mean Mr. Salinger—says Gemma and Dustin were spying on his family while they were trying to have dinner.”
“Is that true?” Danny asked, mustering up as much of the disciplinarian dad persona as he possibly could.
Dustin kept his eyes fixed on the floor, but Gemma, who was on the verge of tears, bravely lifted her head and slowly nodded before squeaking out, “I’m sorry. . . .”
Danny practically swelled with pride. Hayley was so worried Damien would notice that she stepped in front of him to block his inappropriate reaction.
“Get in this house right now,” Hayley barked to the kids.
Damien let go of them and they sprang forward, grateful to be free from his grasp, and disappeared into the living room.
“I am terribly sorry. This will not happen again, I assure you,” Hayley said.
“It better not,” Damien warned before doing an about-face and stalking off. Hayley shut the door and marched into the living room where Danny was already peppering the kids with questions. “So what did you see? Anything stand out as suspicious?”
“No! This ends right now! What you two did was wrong. You do not trespass onto our neighbors’ property and disrespect their right to privacy!” Hayley shot Danny a look, who suddenly snapped to attention.
“Your mother is right. That’s bad, what you did. Even if you saw something . . . which I’m sure if you did, you’d tell us, right?”
The kids were digging into their plastic pumpkins for candy.
Hayley snatched the pumpkins away from them. “No, you don’t get to eat this candy. I’m confiscating it.”
“But that’s our candy from trick-or-treating!” Dustin wailed.
“Not anymore. I’m getting rid of it. I’m going to give it to Mona!” Hayley yelled.
“Mona! But she’ll eat all of it!” Gemma cried.
“That’s the idea. You need to be punished for what you did. Now go wash up for dinner and after you eat, you’re both going straight to bed and no TV or video games. Do you hear me?”
Gemma and Dustin knew they were not going to win this one so they stomped upstairs. Hayley spun around to Danny. “And as for you, if you even mention the word murder, or tell another ghost story, or encourage the kids in any way to do something like this again, I promise you, Danny Powell, you will rue the day you ever married me! Do you understand?”
Danny nodded, a hangdog look on his face, like a puppy who just got caught chewing up the corner of a new throw rug.
Chapter Eight
Hayley knew the Wendi Jo Willis situation was getting more serious when Sal chose to run the headline POLICE STILL SEARCHING FOR LOCAL WOMAN MISSING TWO DAYS in tomorrow’s issue of the Island Times. The paper’s hotline had also been ringing off the hook with reports of Wendi Joe sightings all over the island, although none proved credible. Mostly the calls came from bored residents trying to stick their noses into the case in order to get in on the action and garner some attention. Dottie Willis had appeared on the local Fox affiliate begging for the safe return of her daughter. Chief Alvares was working with the credit card companies, but none of Wendi Jo’s cards had been used anywhere since the day she disappeared.
After a long day at the office, Hayley needed to wind down, and so after calling Danny to look after the kids, she met with her other BFF besides Mona, local real estate agent and self-proclaimed fashionista Liddy Crawford. Liddy was already sitting at the bar of Randy’s watering hole Drinks Like a Fish when Hayley arrived after work, sipping her signature Cosmo and flirting with a couple of fishermen who flanked her on both sides, showering her with compliments about her hair and outfit. Liddy beamed and cooed breathless thank-yous, all the while feigning surprise and disbelief over the attention from these two handsome gentlemen, which she deemed unwarranted with the perfect dose of false modesty. The two fishermen didn’t strike Hayley as “gentlemen,” but more like two male dogs in heat sniffing around a coquettish Labradoodle.
“I’ll take a Jack and Coke,” Hayley yelled to Randy, who acknowledged her with a nod of the head while filling a mug of beer from t
he tap for another customer.
Liddy spun around on her stool, her face flushed from the attentiveness from her two gallant admirers, who in Hayley’s opinion, both smelled of day-old trout. “How was your day, Hayley?”
“Crazy. We were inundated with tips on the whereabouts of Wendi Jo Willis, all of which we forwarded to the police, but not one seems to have panned out according to Sergio,” Hayley said, climbing up on the stool next to Liddy.
“I cannot believe people are buying into that load of crap that Wendi Jo Willis has been abducted. I mean, let’s face it, any kidnapper needs only to spend ten minutes with her before giving her back. Have you met the woman?”
“Liddy, that’s not very nice,” Hayley scolded.
“I’m sorry, but I refuse to believe this has anything to do with foul play,” Liddy said as she sipped some more of her Cosmo. “We all know what really happened.”
Hayley scrunched up her face, puzzled. “We do?”
“Of course. The poor woman has for years erroneously considered herself the premier real estate agent in Bar Harbor, and it was only a matter of time before she woke up to the fact that she will never be number one, and she will forever remain in my shadow. I am the number one agent on this island and that will never change!” Liddy declared as if she was standing behind a podium at a political rally, running for President of All Real Estate.
“That may be true, Liddy, but why would that have anything to do with her disappearance?” Hayley asked as Randy delivered her drink and she took a grateful gulp.
“She could no longer stand the intense competition so she left town to set up stakes somewhere else, and frankly I don’t blame her. I wouldn’t want to go up against me!”
“You’re giving yourself a lot of credit,” Hayley remarked.
“I deserve it! I sold nineteen houses last year. Six summer homes and thirteen year-round residences. That may be some kind of record.”
Liddy could hardly contain her glee that her closest competitor, Wendi Jo Willis, was finally out of the picture, leaving the local real estate landscape all to herself. “There is no doubt in my mind she blew town of her own accord, right, Emmett?”
