Death of a Lobster Lover

by Lee Hollis

  Ellie reached into her bag and pulled out her wallet. She flipped it open and showed Hayley a picture of her father, who was striking, reminiscent of an old movie star like Cary Grant.

  “Oh, my . . .”

  “Yes, he was quite popular with the ladies in his day, you know, before . . .” Her voice trailed off for a moment, and it looked like she might tear up, but instead she gathered herself, cleared her throat, and continued. “My mom was never around so my granddaddy raised me. Or as Sue says, I raised him,” she said, chuckling. “Sue’s kind of been like a mother figure for me since I was a little girl. She’s always telling me I can’t hide from life forever and I need to get out there.”

  “Sue seems like a very wise woman,” Hayley said gently.

  “Did she pay you to say that?” Ellie asked, grinning.

  She had a beautiful, warm smile.

  There was no reason in the world this cute, prepossessing girl should be hiding from anything.

  The young, sleepy-eyed man behind the counter arrived with a paper bag of pastries and two coffees in a cardboard takeout carton. He rang the order up on the register. Hayley reached for her bag and counted out some bills.

  “Well, I think Sue is right. And for what it’s worth, I also think you should go out on a date with Boyd.”

  “A date? Really? I don’t know,” she squealed, her cheeks flushed with red, totally flustered.

  “Go on. Give him a chance,” Hayley said, scooping up her bag and carton of coffees. “It was nice chatting with you, Ellie. Hope to see you around.”

  “Bye,” Ellie said, beaming, as Hayley walked out the door.

  Chapter 7

  As Hayley fumbled her way out of the coffee shop, balancing the paper bag of pastries and carton of coffees, a woman appeared to hold open the door for her.

  “Thank you so much,” Hayley said, smiling gratefully.

  The woman watched her glide across the sidewalk toward her car and instead of walking inside the restaurant she followed behind her.

  “Excuse me, Hayley Powell?” the woman asked.

  Hayley spun around to face the woman. She was probably in her mid-forties, short-cropped silver hair, slender, athletic body, tanned fresh face with very few signs of age. She was in a turquoise T-shirt and gray yoga pants, her feet slipped comfortably in a pair of deck shoes and a matching fanny pack around her waist, both of which matched her T-shirt.

  “Yes, I’m Hayley,” she said quizzically.

  “I hope I didn’t startle you. I’m Polly Roper,” the woman said.

  Hayley instinctively moved to shake the woman’s hand, but realized both of her hands were full, one with the bag, the other with the carton of coffees.

  “Here, let me help you with those,” Polly said, reaching out with a thin, bony hand, the fingernails painted with turquoise nail polish, to take the paper bag of baked goods.

  Polly certainly was a fan of turquoise.

  Now with a free hand, Hayley shook Polly’s hand.

  “I’m a friend of Sue’s, who owns the bar around the corner you were at last night. She told me all about you, how you write a food and cocktails column for your local paper in Bar Harbor,” Polly said.

  “Yes,” Hayley said, amazed at how fast word got around in Salmon Cove.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t usually make a habit of having to know every last detail about every stranger who comes to town, but Sue thought I would be interested because I’m essentially your counterpart here in town. I write a cooking column myself for the Salmon Cove Journal.”

  “I see,” Hayley said, a bit relieved she wasn’t on some kind of terrorist watch list or anything like that.

  “I must confess, I am guilty of a bit of online stalking. I looked up your paper and read a few of your columns. That’s why I recognized you,” she said. “From your very pretty picture next to the byline. Your recipes look delicious, by the way.”

  “Well, I look forward to stalking you as well,” Hayley said brightly, her head swelling from Polly’s gushing compliments.

  “How long are you in town for?”

  “Just a few days, I’m afraid.”

  “That’s too bad,” Polly said with a slight pout. “I was hoping we might be able to get together, exchange a couple of recipes, engage in a little shop talk.”

  “Well, I’m here with two friends, but I suspect I may have plenty of free time,” Hayley said, certain Liddy and Mona would be otherwise engaged with their respective paramours for the duration of their stay.

  “That would be marvelous,” Polly cooed, reaching into her fanny pack for a business card and handing it to Hayley. “That’s my cell phone number and e-mail address.”

  “I’ll be in touch,” Hayley said before noticing someone hovering near her car. She glanced over to see a female uniformed police officer, big-boned, tall, thick brown hair pulled back in a severe bun, a stern, serious face, typing the license plate number of Liddy’s Mercedes into an electronic reader.

  Hayley twisted her head back to Polly, who was now frowning. “I better go deal with this.”

  “That’s Sheriff Wilkes,” Polly practically spit out. “She’s a real ballbuster but don’t let her bully you!”

  “Thanks for the advice,” Hayley said, warily. Just the sheriff’s intimidating height and dour face was making Hayley’s stomach turn with nerves.

  “Have a great day,” Polly sang as she handed the bag of pastries back to her and pranced off down the street.

  Hayley slowly, cautiously approached Sheriff Wilkes, who had yet to notice her. Hayley waited a beat, but the sheriff was too fixated on her electronic ticket gadget thingy. It spit out a ticket the size of a gas receipt, which she stuffed in a small envelope and then leaned forward and slipped it underneath the windshield wiper of Liddy’s car.

  Hayley cleared her throat loudly.

  Finally, Sheriff Wilkes leisurely stood upright, adjusted her sunglasses, and turned to Hayley.

  “Good morning,” Hayley said, forcing a smile.

  Sheriff Wilkes never cracked a smile. She remained stone-faced except for a barely perceptible nod. At least Hayley thought it was a nod. Maybe it was the fly that buzzed past her face, which caused it to move forward slightly.

  “This is my friend’s car, and I . . . I just came into town to pick up some breakfast . . .” Hayley stammered. “Well, I was just curious to know why I’m getting a ticket.”

  There was a long, agonizing pause.

  Hayley cleared her throat again.

  Why, she didn’t know.

  It wasn’t as if she had to clear her throat.

  This towering woman in uniform was just making her extremely nervous.

  Finally, mercifully, after what seemed like a full two minutes of tense silence but was probably just a few seconds, Sheriff Wilkes responded, “You’re parked too far from the curb.”

  Hayley looked down at the tires and raised an eyebrow. There was barely an inch between both tires and the curb. “What? No, I’m not. Look, the tires are practically touching the side. Look!”

  But Sheriff Wilkes didn’t look.

  She just stared at Hayley behind those terrifying dark sunglasses on her face.

  Hayley stupidly tried again. “Look!”

  “I already did when you were inside the diner and guess what, they’re too far from the curb,” Sheriff Wilkes said in a low growl. “You broke the law. If you disagree, you can always fight it in court. But you’re not talking yourself out of a ticket.”

  Sheriff Wilkes glared at Hayley for a few seconds longer, and then turned and marched off down the street toward her squad car, which was parked near the corner.

  Hayley was rattled as she snatched the ticket out from underneath the wiper and got into the driver’s seat of the Mercedes. She ripped open the envelope and studied the ticket. Sure enough, it was a parking citation. And it was going to cost her sixty-eight dollars. It was signed by Daphne Wilkes, Sheriff of Salmon Cove, and in Hayley’s opinion, a world
class b-word.

  Oh, what the hell, she was on vacation.

  She was feeling a little wild.

  Why not just say it?

  “Sheriff Daphne Wilkes is a world-class bitch!” she shouted.

  And then, noticing the driver’s-side window was open slightly, Hayley suddenly felt guilty and looked around to make sure no passersby had heard her.

  Chapter 8

  If Hayley thought that attending the Salmon Cove Lobster Bake the next day was going to be a relaxed and peaceful Sunday afternoon, she was sadly mistaken. The stress kicked in almost immediately, before they had even left the cabin, when Liddy was stood up by her date, the dashing Boston-based travel writer Jackson Young.

  She was, to say the least, apoplectic.

  “This is absolutely outrageous! Nobody has ever stood me up before!” she wailed, gripping her phone tightly, her knuckles a ghostly white, and texting him yet another angry message. “He confirmed last night and now suddenly he’s a no-show? What the hell is going on? Should I call him again?”

  “You’ve already left four messages on his voice mail already,” Hayley said, trying to reason with her.

  “And about a hundred and fifty texts,” Mona added, checking her watch, sighing. “Listen, can we leave? Corey is already there waiting for me.”

  “That is so typical of you, Mona, rubbing my face in the fact that your date has been in constant contact with you all morning and my date has given me nothing but radio silence!”

  “Corey is not my date! We are just two old friends meeting up to hang out together and eat some lobster and corn on the cob. That’s all it is! I’m a married woman, Liddy!” Mona barked defensively.

  “You’re an unhappily married woman, and that’s a big difference,” Liddy spit out, madly tapping numbers into her phone and then clamping it to her ear before instantly shifting her tone to calm and unconcerned. “Hello, Jackson, this is Liddy again. I’ve still heard nothing from you so I am just going to assume we are no longer going to the lobster bake together today. This is the last message I will be leaving as my friends are begging me to accompany them, and I certainly don’t want to keep them waiting any longer. I hope this finds you well, and that you have the opportunity to enjoy some of the delicious seafood they have here in Salmon Cove. It was a pleasure meeting you, and I wish you a safe trip back to Boston. Bye now.”

  She tapped the phone to end the call and then instantly returned to her high-pitched screeching.

  “That bastard! I will kill him if I ever see him again!”

  “Please! Can we just go?” Mona begged.

  “Fine. I’ll drive,” Liddy said, scooping the car keys off the kitchen counter that Hayley had scrubbed and wiped down the night before because there was a thick film of dirt covering it.

  Hayley snatched the keys out of her hand. “You are in no condition. I will drive.”

  “Fine. But promise me if you see Jackson walking along the side of the road, you hit the accelerator and run him down.”

  “No,” Hayley answered emphatically, heading out the door.

  “I’m not suggesting you kill him. Just cause some long-lasting damage. I want him to suffer for his sins.”

  “No!” Hayley called back from outside.

  “I just thought I’d put it out there,” Liddy sniffed, following her.

  Mona brought up the rear, shaking her head.

  When they arrived at the Salmon Cove Lobster Bake, which was held in a town park near the waterfront, there was already a massive crowd milling about at all the food stands that were lined up in three different rows that cut through the middle of the park.

  Parking was impossible so Hayley had to backtrack almost half a mile to find a space for Liddy’s Mercedes. After squeezing into a spot along the side of the road, they trudged back toward the park, Liddy complaining the entire way and Mona shouting at her to please shut up. Hayley was already tired of their constant bickering and needed a respite.

  Corey Guildford came to her rescue. He swooped in from out of nowhere. He had been waiting for them patiently near the entrance, like his loyal golden retriever Sadie probably did by the front door of his house waiting for him to come every night. Sadie was at his side as Corey leaned in to kiss Mona. She jerked her head away and scrunched up her face, as if it was agony having to receive an innocent hello kiss from this sweet, personable, good-looking guy.

  It just made Liddy even more irritable.

  Where was her hello kiss from Jackson?

  “You’re looking lovely today, Mona,” Corey said shyly. “Doesn’t she, Sadie?”

  He looked down at his dog, who was hugging his pant leg, smiling and panting.

  “If your friends don’t mind, Mona, I’d like to show you around, and introduce you to a few of my friends,” Corey said, glancing over at Hayley and Liddy to make sure it was okay with them.

  “Why?” Mona asked.

  “Why?” he asked, puzzled. “I don’t know. I think they’ll like you.”

  “Seems awfully forward of you, introducing me to your friends. What are you trying to do here?” Mona asked accusingly.

  “For Pete’s sake, Mona! Stop trying to scare him off and just go with him and enjoy yourself! Is that so hard?” Liddy said.

  “I’m not trying to scare him off!” Mona yelled, mortified, a defensive tone in her voice.

  “Wouldn’t matter even if she was. I don’t scare easily,” Corey said with a wink.

  Hayley really liked this guy.

  “Come on, Mona,” Corey said firmly, reaching out and taking her hand.

  Mona jumped, as if someone had just hit her, and wrenched her hand free from his grip. “What the hell are you trying to do now?”

  “I was just holding your hand, Mona, I promise I wasn’t going to slip a ring on it,” Corey said, laughing. “Let’s go. You can lead.”

  Mona eyed him warily and then marched off in a huff.

  “I can tell she likes me,” Corey said, smiling.

  And then he followed her off.

  “Why is Mona being so mean to that poor man?” Liddy asked, watching Corey run to catch up to Mona. “He’s just trying to be nice to her.”

  “Because she likes him more than she’s willing to admit. And you know how she is. She’s already married to Dennis, and even though he’s a deadbeat useless loser, those are her words not mine, she still feels loyal to him, so she’s terrified of getting emotionally attached to another man,” Hayley said.

  She noticed Liddy staring at her.

  “I watch a lot of Dr. Phil,” she explained.

  “I need a drink,” Liddy said, not listening to a word she had just said. “There is something to eat every which way you turn so I would assume there has to be a bar around here somewhere too if there is a God!”

  Liddy wandered off, leaving Hayley on her own.

  Chapter 9

  Hayley weaved through the crowd following the puffs of steam rising high in the air from the boiling seafood pots located in the center of the park. Since she was smack-dab in the middle of a local lobster bake, then by God, she was going to splurge on a lobster. She lined up behind a crowd of people stretching back a good twenty yards to wait her turn.

  Right up near the front of the line she spotted Ellie and Boyd. They were giggling over something, and Ellie had her hand placed gently on Boyd’s fleshy forearm. She looked lovely in a sleeveless cobalt print sundress and stretch wedge sandals, while he rocked a striped polo shirt that stretched over his belly, along with shorts and deck shoes. Hayley noted both looked very fashionable for a simple lobster bake.

  Boyd’s face was lit up and happy.

  He couldn’t take his eyes off his date.

  Yes, Hayley realized, the two of them were actually on an honest-to-goodness date.

  Ellie and Boyd.

  Just like she’d hoped.

  Apparently, Ellie had taken her advice to heart and decided to give Boyd a chance. Hayley thought about walking up to them and
saying hello, but she decided to leave them alone. It was probably best not to interrupt them especially since the date appeared to be going very well.

  As a man lifted a lobster, which had two rubber bands tied around each of its claws, and dropped it into the boiling water before quickly covering the pot with a lid, Ellie squealed and hid her face in Boyd’s broad chest. Boiling lobsters was always a rather violent and heartless task. Most people opted not to think about how their favorite shellfish was actually prepared, and instead, focused on the mouth-watering taste once they had been fully cooked and their limbs had been so mercilessly torn apart.

  Boyd eagerly wrapped his arms around Ellie protectively, relishing the moment.

  Embarrassed by her silly reaction to the lobster being dropped in the pot, she looked up at him in mock horror.

  Boyd couldn’t stop beaming.

  Suddenly Hayley felt someone tugging on her arm.

  “Hayley! Am I glad to see you!”

  Hayley turned to see Polly Roper, in a pink blouse with a bulky white apron tied around her waist, and a harried look on her face.

  “Polly, how nice to see you,” Hayley said before taking stock of Polly’s panic-stricken expression. “Is there something wrong?”

  “Yes, I have a bit of an emergency,” she said, wiping sweat from her brow with a perfectly manicured hand that today was painted a bright pink to match her blouse. “I have a booth over there where I’m selling my blueberry pies.”

  Hayley glanced over to see a small gaggle of people hovered around an unmanned booth stacked with white boxes.

  “We’ve been busy all morning, because, well, at the risk of boasting, my pies are the best damn pies in Down East Maine!” Polly said, clearly boasting.

  “They sound yummy,” Hayley said, not quite sure where this was going. “I’ll be sure to buy one.”

  “I hired a local boy, Danny McMillan, to help me man the booth and move the pies, worst mistake of my life, and he snuck three pies while I was out buying paper plates and plastic forks, and ate every damn one!”

  “Without paying for them?”

  “That’s not the point,” Polly said, shaking her head vigorously.