Death of a Lobster Lover

by Lee Hollis

  Boyd lit up at the sight of her, and rushed over to her.

  “Hi, Ellie,” he said, pure joy in his voice.

  “Hello, Boyd, nice to see you,” she said shyly. “Who’s been arrested?”

  “Just Lewis. Again,” Boyd said, rolling his eyes.

  “Thank goodness. I thought it might be Granddad in the back of that squad car,” she said with a relieved sigh.

  “No, he’s still inside. You here to pick him up?” Sue asked.

  Ellie nodded.

  “Boyd, why don’t you go get him?”

  Boyd bounded inside, a big, excited grin on his face.

  Hayley turned to see Corey trying to give Mona a good night kiss, but once again, she expertly dodged it so his lips landed on her chin. It was awkward and weird but ridiculously cute. Mona was beside herself trying to keep her relationship with this handsome local strictly platonic.

  Liddy, meanwhile, was busy dodging her new friends, the young couple touring the US in their RV, who were following her around, asking if she minded accepting their Facebook friend request. Liddy tried mightily to be polite but the strain on her face revealed she was at her wit’s end.

  Hayley yawned, ready to return to the cabin for a good night’s sleep, but when she turned to Liddy’s Mercedes, which was parked right out in front of the bar, she saw Sheriff Daphne printing out a ticket from her traffic violation handheld machine and slipping it underneath the windshield wiper after stuffing it in a small envelope. She headed back to her squad car, where Lewis had finally stopped screaming and was now out of view, presumably passed out on the backseat.

  Hayley ran to catch up to her.

  “Excuse me, Sheriff, why did you give us a ticket?”

  Sheriff Daphne slowly turned around, and at the sight of Hayley, gave her a withering look, as if she was the last person she ever wanted to see.

  “Your tires,” Daphne sighed, eager to end this conversation and get back to the station and deposit Lewis in the drunk tank.

  “What about them?”

  “They’re not turned in the right direction for hillside parking,” Daphne said.

  Her eyes locked into Hayley’s and she stared at her, as if to say, “You really want to fight me on this?”

  Hayley definitely wanted to fight her on this. “But the street is flat.”

  “No, it’s not. There’s a clear incline. Your tires should be turned toward the curb.”

  “This is ludicrous. What is your problem with me, lady?”

  Sheriff Daphne’s nostrils flared.

  She didn’t appreciate a visitor challenging her authority.

  Hayley immediately regretted standing up to her.

  She half expected the sheriff to pull out another pair of handcuffs and toss her in the back of the squad car with Lewis.

  But Daphne just took a deep breath and said quietly, “I have no problem with you. I just have a problem with you violating the law. If you want to fight the ticket in court, be my guest.”

  She turned on her heel and marched over to her squad car, jumped in the driver’s seat, and peeled away so fast Hayley imagined poor Lewis being tossed around from side to side in the back.

  Liddy, having finally extricated herself from her new millennial friends, traipsed back over to her Mercedes, stopping in her tracks at the sight of the envelope tucked underneath her windshield wiper.

  “What’s that?” she asked, eyes wide.

  “Traffic ticket,” Hayley said. “Apparently, you didn’t park the car properly on the hill.”

  “Hill? What hill?”

  Liddy spun her head around looking for some kind of slope.

  “According to the sheriff, Salmon Cove might as well be the streets of San Francisco,” Hayley said, defeated.

  “Oh, hell no! She is not going to get away with this!” Liddy roared, fishing her smartphone out of her purse. “I am going to fight this!”

  She snapped photos of the tires, the car, the street, and all the surroundings from every angle, capturing the last of the patrons in front of the bar, including the young couple who waved excitedly, convinced Liddy wanted a memory of their time together.

  “I’m going to bring so much photographic evidence to court, that power-hungry policewoman’s head will spin!” Liddy said, determined.

  Boyd led Rufus out of the bar and hustled him over to Ellie, who smiled and gave her grandfather a quick peck on the cheek. “Come on, Granddad. Time to go home,” she said.

  “You want me to escort you home, Ellie?” Boyd asked, expectantly.

  “No, not tonight, Boyd, we’ll be fine. But thank you. My car’s parked just down the street.”

  The flash from Liddy’s phone camera caused Rufus to jolt and wave his arms in front of his face.

  “Something’s happening, Ellie! I think I may be having some kind of stroke,” he cried.

  Ellie stared at Liddy’s camera, a frown on her face. “It’s just a flash from a camera, Granddad. Nothing to worry about.”

  And then she hustled him off, leaving Boyd behind with a sad, disappointed look on his face. He turned and shuffled back inside to help Sue clean up and cash out for the night.

  Having said good-bye to Corey, Mona joined Hayley, who watched as Liddy continued snapping a slew of pictures for her robust defense she planned to unveil in traffic court. Assuming she would even bother returning to Salmon Cove once she got a date on the docket.

  “I think it is high time we finally head home to Bar Harbor in the morning,” Mona said. “If I stay here much longer, I may crumble and do something I shouldn’t with Corey.”

  “I want to stay another day,” Hayley said.

  “But I thought—”

  “That power-hungry sheriff clearly doesn’t want us here, and she’s doing everything in her power to get us to leave,” Hayley said. “Well, when someone pushes me, I tend to push back. I am not going to be run out of town.”

  Chapter 15

  “I’m so thrilled you chose to stay a bit longer so I could show you my appreciation for helping a friend in need,” Polly said, biting into her lobster roll.

  They were sitting at a picnic table with a stunning ocean view outside the Lobster Shack, a small takeout seafood joint located just outside of Salmon Cove.

  “You didn’t have to treat me to lunch,” Hayley said. “I had a wonderful time selling your blueberry pies at the lobster bake.”

  She dipped a fried clam in some tartar sauce and popped it in her mouth, not expecting it to be so hot. It burned her tongue as she quickly chewed and swallowed and then chased it down with an iced tea, frantically waving her hands in the air.

  Polly laughed. “I know, they just smell too good! It’s impossible to wait until they’ve cooled down.”

  The potbellied owner of the Lobster Shack, wearing a stained white T-shirt, Bermuda shorts, and flip-flops, sweat pouring down his face from the grill, ambled over to the picnic table and set down a paper plate piled high with a feast of fried shrimp.

  “Here, ladies, enjoy. On the house,” he said, winking at Polly.

  “Thank you, Buddy! They look delicious,” Polly cooed, flirtatiously touching his thick, smooth forearm.

  “Just don’t forget to bring me another one of your peach cobblers one of these days,” he said, wiping the sweat off his face with a dirty rag that was draped over his right shoulder.

  “You can bet on it,” Polly said, beaming.

  “Better get back to the fryer,” he said, nodding, a big smile on his face, and then he did an about-face and waddled back inside the small windowless shack with steam pouring out.

  “You certainly have a lot of devoted fans of your baked goods,” Hayley said, impressed.

  “Well, yes, I’ve built up quite a loyal clientele. And everybody has their own personal favorite. Buddy here loves my cobbler. Sue at the Starfish Lounge always wants to buy all my banana muffins. Old man Rufus can’t get enough of my blueberry pies, and his granddaughter Ellie is a huge fan of my lemon s
quares. And that boy who works for Sue, and is so smitten with Ellie . . .”

  “Boyd.”

  “Yes, Boyd, he drools over my angel food cake with fresh strawberries. Then there is that handsome Corey Guildford who’s been doting on your friend while she’s been here, well, he’s always coming around for my fudge brownies. I could go on and on . . .”

  “Sounds like you’re friends with everybody in town,” Hayley said, blowing on a fried clam and making sure it was cool before taking a bite.

  “Only the ones with a sweet tooth,” Polly said, laughing. “I will say, we have our share of tourists, but once they clear out, there’s not that many of us left and we tend to stick together. I love living in such a beautiful, quiet, idyllic place. You must understand, coming from Bar Harbor.”

  “Yes, small-town living certainly has its advantages, there’s a certain comfort and safe feeling, except when something really disturbing and unexpected happens . . .”

  “You mean that poor man they found murdered on the beach? It’s such a ghastly thing to happen, especially on the day of the lobster bake, which everyone looks forward to every year. I’ve been having nightmares about it,” Polly said, shaking her head. “I mean, who would do such a horrible thing?”

  “Hopefully, the police will figure it out,” Hayley said.

  “It’s just so shocking. Nothing like that has ever happened in Salmon Cove,” Polly said, dipping a fried clam into a plastic cup of cocktail sauce.

  Hayley nodded sympathetically, knowing her own hometown of Bar Harbor’s crime rate, given her past experiences, was slightly higher.

  They sat at the picnic table gorging on fried food, chatting and staring at the seagulls skipping over the water in the bay for another half hour before Hayley finally stood up and thanked Polly for lunch. They both headed to the parking lot where they air-kissed each other good-bye, and Hayley climbed into Liddy’s Mercedes, which she borrowed to come here, and drove off, leaving Polly chatting with the gruff, greasy, adorable Lobster Shack owner, Buddy, who followed her out to personally see her off.

  Hayley had barely driven half a mile when she noticed in the rearview mirror a squad car pull out behind her and follow her. Her grip on the wheel tightened as her heart leapt into her throat. The squad car pulled up close, tailgating her. Hayley kept her eyes fixed on the road and checked her speedometer. It read thirty-two miles per hour. The speed limit sign she had passed just a few hundred feet from the Lobster Shack was thirty-five miles per hour so at least she was confident she wasn’t speeding.

  The front windshield of the squad car was tinted so she couldn’t see who was driving, but she sure as heck could hazard a guess.

  Nervous, Hayley let up on the gas pedal, fearing she might go over thirty-five, which would give the officer driving so close behind her just cause to pull her over. The needle dropped all the way down to twenty-two miles per hour. She couldn’t understand why she was so nervous. She wasn’t doing anything wrong. But Sheriff Daphne was no fan of hers, if indeed that was her driving the squad car behind her, and she seemed to always be looking for an excuse to give her more trouble.

  There was a traffic light up ahead.

  She was just entering the downtown area.

  The light turned yellow.

  Hayley could have easily and safely sailed through the yellow light before it turned red, but she wasn’t taking any chances. She slammed on the brakes and the Mercedes jerked to a stop. The squad car nearly plowed into her bumper it was so close.

  She glanced through the rearview mirror again.

  The squad car idled behind her ominously.

  Hayley swallowed hard.

  Waiting for the light to turn green was agonizing.

  Finally, the traffic light mercifully flashed green, and Hayley carefully flipped on her right blinker and turned right to head down the street that led to the country road that would take her back to the cabin where Liddy and Mona were waiting. Hopefully, the squad car would keep going straight into town.

  No such luck.

  It stayed right behind her.

  That’s when she saw the flashing blue lights, and was forced to pull over. She turned the wheel sharply and scraped the front tire against the cement curb because she was so discombobulated.

  Just as she suspected, the driver’s-side door of the squad car swung open, and Sheriff Daphne got out in her uniform, wearing dark sunglasses. She swaggered up to Hayley’s window. Hayley pressed the button to lower it and turned to Sheriff Daphne expectantly.

  “Do you know why I pulled you over?”

  “I have no idea. I was not speeding.”

  “No, you weren’t.”

  “Broken taillight?”

  “Nope.”

  “Expired registration?”

  “Nope.”

  “Then what?”

  “You were driving too slow.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Speed limit is thirty-five miles per hour. You were going under twenty at one point. Driving too slow can be just as dangerous as driving too fast.”

  “You have got to be kidding me,” Hayley scoffed, throwing her arms in the air.

  “Please keep your hands on the wheel where I can see them,” Sheriff Daphne said, glancing in the backseat as if she half expected to find some sort of illegal contraband.

  Hayley froze, fearing this woman might be looking for an excuse to pull out her gun and shoot her. She put her hands back on the wheel and squeezed so tight her knuckles were white.

  “I’m going to let you off with a warning this time,” Daphne said, adjusting her sunglasses.

  Hayley sighed. “I appreciate that. Thank you.”

  “You know, I’ve been studying up on you,” Daphne said, stone-faced.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I like to know who is in my town and what their intentions are so I did a little research, read a few issues of your local paper, and much to my surprise, I found out you fancy yourself some kind of crime fighter.”

  “I write a cooking column,” Hayley said through gritted teeth.

  “Oh, I think you’re underselling yourself, Wonder Woman,” Daphne said, casually fingering the gun in her holster just enough so Hayley would notice. “You’ve got quite the reputation for saving your town from a whole bunch of bad seeds. Well, let me tell you, this here isn’t Bar Harbor. This is Salmon Cove, and this town belongs to me. And I won’t stand for anyone engaging in that kind of nonsense here. This is my turf. Are we clear?”

  Hayley nodded and stammered, “Y-Y-Yes, we’re clear.”

  “I didn’t hear you.”

  “We’re clear!” Hayley shouted.

  “Good, happy to hear it. You have a nice day. And stay closer to the speed limit,” Daphne said, smirking as she returned to her squad car, jumped in, and sped off, leaving a cloud of dust blowing through Hayley’s open window, causing her to cough.

  Hayley sat in the Mercedes for five more minutes, trying to stop shaking, before she was calm enough to start the car and continue to the cabin.

  Sheriff Daphne was trying her best to intimidate her enough so she would just leave Salmon Cove once and for all.

  But why?

  Why was her being here such a threat?

  And was it related to the murder of Jackson Young?

  Island Food & Spirits by Hayley Powell

  Part One

  Some of the most exciting and memorable times of my young life were when I packed up my duffel bag and headed to summer camp. And not just any summer camp! I absolutely cherished the two weeks I spent at Camp Pine Tree.

  What’s not to love about camp? Meeting new friends, swimming in cool scenic lakes, dressing up for skits on the outdoor stage, competing in sports competitions like archery and softball. But mostly I loved the festive nights by the campfire when all the campers and counselors would gather around and sing songs. To be honest, this particular activity stood out to me because the boys from the other side of the camp w
ere invited too.

  What made Pine Tree so special to me was the idea of arriving with a clean slate. No one knew you! Unlike back at school where kids perceived you a certain way, there was no peer pressure. You weren’t the target of any “mean girls” like Sabrina Merryweather, who was a constant thorn in my side. She would always pretend to like me, but then relish in any opportunity to sabotage me or make me look stupid!

  The other huge upside was the presence of a fresh crop of boys from all over the state! It was a rite of passage to have a summer camp boyfriend! For a twelve-year-old girl, a summer romance was just about the coolest thing you could hope for because once you did go home, you could recount all the details to your friends, who loyally hung on your every word with rapt attention. Of course, the love story always got juicier in the retelling, but nobody seemed to mind. It was our responsibility to make it at least as exciting as the plot of Dirty Dancing!

  This was my last summer as a camper because the following year I was scheduled to return as a counselor in training, so I knew I had to make these two weeks in July epic!

  This was also the first summer my younger brother, Randy, was signed up to attend. He was not happy about it. Randy had never been to summer camp. He preferred spending his summers watching game shows on TV in the house, or if our mother forced him outside to get some fresh air, he made sure he had plenty of his comic books to keep him entertained. The idea of running around in the woods behind our house held little appeal. So the prospect of spending two weeks in nature, sharing a cabin with boys he didn’t know, eating camp food, or as he called it “prison slop,” or participating in organized sports was, well, in his words, “sanctioned torture!”

  Randy had been waging war with our mother, Sheila, for weeks ever since she announced she had enrolled him at Camp Pine Tree. He threatened to run away, call the child abuse hotline, hold his breath until she relented, but no begging or pleading or tears streaming down his face caused her to change her mind. She was going to make sure he had this experience whether he liked it or not!

  On our last night at home before embarking on our summer camp adventure, Mom served lobster tacos. This was not the way to get on Randy’s good side. He hated lobster! We both knew what was happening. She was testing the recipe because once we were safely spirited off to camp, she could entertain a promising new beau. Mom only bought lobsters when she was trying to impress a new man in her life!