by Lee Hollis
Hayley reached down and snagged it.
She held it up and studied it.
The small fabric was from a hiking shirt.
Likely a man’s shirt.
The color was back country green plaid.
The edges were frayed.
Like it had been torn off.
Perhaps during a struggle.
“You saved my life, Mona,” Liddy said, sniffling, still traumatized by her near death experience. “How can I ever thank you?”
“You can thank me by never mentioning it again.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want you following me around like a wide-eyed puppy and being all grateful. I prefer you being a shallow bitch that I can make fun of, okay?”
“Fine! Whatever you want,” Liddy said, secretly happy she wasn’t going to have to treat Mona differently now.
Liddy and Mona’s hug had finally reached the awkward stage and they pulled away from each other, both relieved that they would finally be able to go back to pretending not to like each other.
Hayley pocketed the piece of fabric, her mind racing.
Was she wrong about Nigel?
Did Nykki fight for her life during her final few moments and tear the shirt he was wearing?
Was Nigel’s wimpy husband act just that?
An act?
Was he instead a cold-hearted killer responsible for not one but two murders?
Island Food & Spirits by Hayley Powell
Recently, for the third time in less than two months I found myself rummaging around in my garage freezer searching for a bag of blueberries so I could make my very popular streusel-topped blueberry muffins.
I grabbed my last bag of frozen blueberries that I had picked the previous summer. Luckily, blueberry season was just around the corner so I would be able to stock up again since I was nearly out thanks to my cat, who also happens to be named Blueberry.
Let me explain.
It all started last spring when Blueberry went missing. It wasn’t the first time. Blueberry had a habit of wandering off to his old stomping grounds on Hancock Street where he used to live before I adopted him. Usually, someone would spot him and I would drive over and try to wrestle him into his cat carrier, which was no easy feat since, let’s face it, Blueberry is fat. Then I would give up and unceremoniously toss him in the back seat of my car where he would curl up and go to sleep during the short ride home.
So much for the cat carrier.
But on this day, Blueberry didn’t go to Hancock Street.
I received a frantic phone call from Lenora Hopkins, who works at Bark Harbor on Main Street, a popular store for canine customers and their owners. Lenora was a bit irritated, breathlessly informing me that my cat was terrorizing her clientele. A few locals had come in that day with their dogs and let them roam around. Within minutes the dogs were yelping and whining and scrambling to get out while slipping and sliding all over the place. A quick investigation revealed Blueberry snuggled deep inside the dog toys stuffed animal bin. When the unsuspecting pooches poked their noses into the bin to find a toy, Blueberry would strike with his paw, claws out, scaring the poor dogs half to death!
With Lenora threatening to call animal control, I begged her to wait until I got there. Before dashing off, I filled a large Ziploc® bag with half a dozen of my streusel-topped blueberry muffins I had baked earlier that were sitting on the counter cooling as a nice peace offering.
That seemed to work. Lenora didn’t call animal control. And she loved my muffins.
A few weeks later I got a call from the First National Bank. Blueberry was found sleeping on the bank president’s desk. When he tried to shoo him so he could start a meeting with some investors, Blueberry, who doesn’t appreciated being disturbed while napping, started growling and hissing and taking swipes at him. I raced over to the bank to retrieve Blueberry, delivering another bag of my streusel-topped blueberry muffins, which the president loved so all was forgiven.
Which leads me to my latest batch of muffins that I am baking right now to take over to the Episcopal minister with my sincerest apologies.
Yes. More Blueberry drama.
And this one was a doozy.
Apparently, Blueberry chose the minister’s chair up on the pulpit for his nap. As the children’s choir began to sing their hymn, unsuspecting Minister Joe went to sit in his chair and did not see the sleeping cat, who woke up hissing and spitting. He jumped at Minister Joe, claws out and attached himself to his robe. The poor man was so startled and scared he unzipped his robe to escape Blueberry’s wrath and ran from the pulpit right down the church aisle past the congregation and out the door. Apparently, it was a sight to behold as I was told later by a friend who was at the service that Minister Joe was wearing only boxers underneath his robe.
I just hope there are enough blueberries in the state of Maine to make up for this cat’s antics!
Today I am sharing my Streusel-Topped Blueberry Muffins recipe, and I know they’re tasty, because at this point half the town has tried them and everyone has been very generous with their compliments.
Streusel-Topped Blueberry Muffins
Ingredients:
2 cups all purpose flour plus 2 table-
spoons
2 teaspoons baking powder
½ teaspoon salt
½ cup room temperature butter
¾ cup sugar
2 eggs
2 teaspoon vanilla extract
½ cup milk
2 cups fresh blueberries
Pre-heat your oven to 375 degrees and grease a 12 cup muffin tin.
Combine the 2 cups flour, 2 teaspoons baking powder, and ½ teaspoon salt in a bowl and set aside.
In a small bowl sprinkle the two tablespoons flour over blueberries mix and set aside.
In a large bowl, beat together the ½ cup butter, ¾ cup sugar until light and fluffy. Beat in the two eggs and vanilla. Fold in your dry ingredients alternately with the ½ cup of milk just until combined.
Gently fold in the blueberries and divide the batter into the muffin tins.
Streusel Topping
¼ cup white sugar
½ teaspoon cinnamon
2 tablespoons diced butter
Combine sugar, cinnamon in a bowl, add the diced butter and mash together with fork until mixture resembles crumbles. Sprinkle on the tops of the muffins.
Bake in your preheated oven for 20 to 25 minutes or until a toothpick inserted in the muffins comes out clean. Let muffins sit for at least 5 minutes before digging in.
If you’re lucky enough to have a few blueberries left over like I did, treat yourself to a wonderfully refreshing Blueberry Smash Cocktail. A friend gave me the recipe and, believe me, it will certainly chase the blues away.
Blueberry Smash Cocktail
Ingredients:
2 ounces vodka
1 ounce simple syrup
1 ounce fresh lemon juice
15 blueberries
1 mint leaf for garnish
Muddle the blueberries and simple syrup in a mixing glass (end of a wooden spoon works). Add the vodka and lemon juice. Fill mixer with ice. Stir and strain into a cocktail glass and garnish with the mint leaf. What a way to end any hectic day!
Chapter 25
Hayley pulled into the Shop ‘n Save parking lot, which was packed with cars since it was right in the middle of the late afternoon rush. She didn’t want to feed her kids sandwiches for dinner again, so she decided to swing in and pick up some chicken breast and fresh veggies to stir fry homemade fajitas.
She circled around the lot three times searching for a space to open up, but her parking karma was apparently off because five minutes passed and there was still nothing available.
Hayley was about to give up and call the Well Bread sub shop again, which she felt she was single-handedly keeping in business at this point, when out of the corner of her eye she spotted Edie Staples barreling out of the store, pushing a grocery cart
filled with plastic bags.
Hayley turned the steering wheel of her Kia and slowly followed behind Edie like a coyote stalking a lost puppy.
Edie pushed her cart next to a squeaky clean white Ford Freestyle that was parked at an angle and taking up two spaces.
Hayley grimaced.
No wonder the lot was so full.
It was because of thoughtless customers like Edie Staples.
The Reverend’s wife!
Hayley waited patiently as Edie opened up the back of her SUV and loaded her bags into the car.
She rummaged through one of the bags, taking her sweet time, before finally pulling out a box of Oreo cookies.
She glanced around to make sure no one was watching before tearing into it and popping one into her mouth.
And then another.
And another.
This was a fine time for a cookie binge.
Haley tapped the steering wheel with her left index finger, resisting the urge to lay on her horn in order to give Edie a start and get her moving faster.
Gemma and Dustin would be home soon, their stomachs growling, whining, and complaining about how starving they were.
It was almost a daily ritual.
Hayley scanned the parking lot to check and see if another space had mercifully become free, but so such luck.
Edie licked the chocolate off her fingers and shut the back of her SUV, finally fishing her keys out of the pocket of her navy blue knee length skirt.
She climbed into the front seat, shut the door, and then began checking her makeup in the rear view mirror.
Hayley let out a silent scream.
She couldn’t take it anymore.
She pressed the palm of her hand down on the center of her steering wheel.
The horn blared almost as loud as the fire department’s noon whistle.
Hayley could see Edie jump in surprise before craning her neck around to investigate who was honking at her.
Hayley instantly plastered an insincere smile on her face and offered Edie a friendly wave while making sure her turn signal was blinking so Edie would put the pieces together that Hayley was patiently waiting for her parking spot.
Hayley sighed with relief as Edie put the SUV in reverse and slowly backed out of the two spaces she had been hogging.
Edie clearly wanted to exit the lot past Hayley’s Kia so Hayley politely backed up to give her plenty of room to maneuver.
It still took three times for Edie, who was blind as a bat and had no business possessing a driver’s license, to clear the spaces without bumping into the cars on either side of her.
Edie waved back at Hayley as she drove off, but Hayley wasn’t entirely certain the Reverend’s wife had any clue who she was waving at.
Hayley pushed her gear shift into drive to pull into one of the empty spaces when suddenly without warning, a beat up maroon Buick LaCrosse sped up from the opposite direction and squealed into Hayley’s space, stopping directly in the middle and taking up two spaces just like Edie Staples.
Hayley gasped.
The driver must have seen her turn signal and just chose to ignore it.
What kind of rude person does that?
She didn’t have to wait for long to get her answer.
The driver’s side door of the Buick flew open and Vanda Spears hopped out, a proud, excited look on her face.
Hayley couldn’t believe it.
Since when did Vanda Spears own a car?
Even a dented, scraped-up used one.
She rolled down her window and called out to Vanda, who was passing by on her way into the store. “Excuse me, Vanda, I was waiting for that space,” Hayley said, keeping her cool.
“Snooze you lose. Just chalk it up to us being even after you nearly killed me the other day.”
What part of saving her life did Vanda not get?
Hayley bit her tongue.
“Like my fancy new wheels?” Vanda boasted.
Fancy was perhaps a bit of an overstatement.
“Paid cash for it. Almost eight grand. They let me drive it right off the lot.”
By the looks of it, the car was worth no more than three grand.
But again, Hayley bit her tongue.
“Nobody’s going to be calling me a deadbeat no more. I have my very own car!”
Hayley was dying to ask the obvious question.
Who gave her eight thousand dollars?
Did she have a relative who died suddenly and left her some cash in the will?
But Vanda didn’t stick around long enough to answer any of Hayley’s questions.
She waddled into the Shop ‘n Save, her head held high, brandishing a whole new lease on life.
And probably driving without insurance.
So if nobody died and Vanda did not win the Maine Lotto, then someone gave her cash to buy her wreck.
And Hayley had a very strong suspicion who that person might be.
Chapter 26
“I just want to take this opportunity to apologize for my boorish behavior,” Mason said, scratching his flat bare belly while hiking up his cargo shorts with his free hand.
Boorish?
He knows the word boorish?
How unexpected.
Hayley stood in the doorway of the summer rental house, gripping the strap of her navy blue tote bag that hung over her shoulder, ready to swing it at his head at any moment if he tried to grope her again.
“That’s all right, Mason. I’m here to see Sabrina. Can you go get her for me, please?”
“She’s not here. She went to pick up some supplies at the store in town. She should be back any minute. Why don’t you come in and wait for her?”
Mason stepped aside and waved his arm to usher her inside.
Hayley hesitated.
She didn’t like the idea of being alone in the house with him.
The less time spent with him the better.
But she was determined to speak with Sabrina.
“Please. I promise to be a gentleman,” Mason said with a sheepish grin.
Hayley sized him up.
He was lean and muscled, an agile acrobat, but she had long nails that could scratch his eyes out if it came to that so she decided to take a chance.
She walked past him into the house.
He closed the door behind her.
“Can I get you something to drink?”
“I’m fine. Thank you.”
There was an awkward moment as they stood facing each other.
“Sometimes after a few cocktails, I can get a little out of control, and start acting out and being ridiculous, and that’s what happened at the reunion and I feel really bad about it. I also had a few before Ivy’s funeral,” Mason said, eyes downcast, taking a real stab at sincerity.
Hayley nodded. “I understand.”
“People say I take after my father, who was somewhat of a player from what I hear, but he died when I was a baby so I don’t really know.”
“Well, let’s just forget it ever happened.”
“I appreciate that. I really do care for Sabrina. I’ve never met a woman quite like her, and I would hate for my actions when I was a drunken mess to jeopardize that . . .”
“I won’t say anything,” Hayley promised.
“Thank you,” Mason said, sighing with relief.
“I know we just met, but I’m already thinking of getting a tattoo of her name.”
Hayley perused his heavily inked body. “You sure you have room?”
“Back left thigh,” Mason said, turning around and raising his shorts to reveal a small patch of skin still untouched by art work.
“Well, that’s very sweet,” Hayley said, hoping this young kid just wasn’t a rebound for Sabrina after her two failed marriages.
“Hayley, what are you doing here?”
Hayley spun around to see Sabrina standing just inside the door holding a recyclable bag full of groceries.
“Oh, good. You’re home. I was hoping we
could talk,” Hayley said.
Sabrina glanced at Mason and then back at Hayley, not entirely comfortable with the two of them mingling at the house without her present.
Perhaps Sabrina knew more than she let on when it came to Mason’s curious hands after downing a couple of cocktails.
Sabrina instinctively knew what Hayley was there to discuss.
She marched forward, blowing past her, and handed the bag of groceries to Mason, who grabbed the handle before planting a kiss on her cheek.
“Mason, could you give Hayley and me some privacy, please?”
“Sure, no problem. I’ll put these away and go for a swim.”
Mason eyeballed Hayley, not confident she was telling him the truth when she promised his unwanted advances would be kept between the two of them. He then quietly retreated to the kitchen.
“What is it you want to talk about, Hayley? I’m not in the mood for socializing. We just got through Ivy’s funeral and now we have to plan Nykki’s. I feel like I’m living some kind of nightmare that I can’t wake up from.”
“I’m here about Vanda Spears.”
“Come on, Hayley. Enough about her. Why do you insist on taking her seriously? She’s a crazy homeless woman who spouts rubbish.”
“She’s a crazy homeless woman who just bought a new car.”
“So what?”
“Where did she get the money?”
“How the hell should I know?”
“I think you gave it to her.”
“What?”
“You’re paying her off to keep quiet.”
“Now you’re spouting rubbish.”
“What does she know about you, Sabrina? Why has she been blackmailing you?”
“Hayley, I know I wasn’t exactly a good friend to you in high school. Sometimes when I think back, I’m downright embarrassed about how I acted toward you. But I’ve tried to make it up to you. I’ve tried to be considerate and supportive and even help you out when you insist on sticking your nose into murder cases that should be handled by the police, but my good will only goes so far and I resent you trying to create some sort of scandal by linking me somehow to the horrible deaths of my two best friends.”
