by Lee Hollis
“You can’t even fake it. You’re happy she’s going to jail, aren’t you? She’s been nothing but a pain in your butt with all her jealousy and crazy behavior. You’re finally getting rid of her. At least for a while.”
“I didn’t say anything!” Cody said, posturing defensively.
But that little smile was still on his face.
“Just for the record, Cody, this changes nothing. I will never—repeat, never—go out with you. You got that?”
The sides of his face pointing upward fell and headed south.
Island Food & Spirits by Hayley Powell
I ran into an old high-school friend, Beth Leighton, at this year’s Hayseed Ball, who just happened to be in town visiting her parents. I hadn’t seen Beth since graduation. She missed our ten-year reunion because she was building homes for orphans in Guatemala, which completely trumped my bake sale to raise funds for my daughter’s sixth-grade class trip to Quebec. Beth always had this admirable knack for helping those in need. But I am proud to say that I was the one who helped Beth in a major, life-changing way. That’s right. I was responsible for putting Beth on a path to her destiny and meeting and marrying her current (and fingers crossed) only husband!
We were around twenty years old at the time, and I was having quite a difficult time deciding what to do after completing just one year of college. Let’s just say, studying wasn’t my forte, and the only thing I really learned that year was how to become a good downhill skier. So I ended up back where I started, in my hometown of Bar Harbor, taking a year off to find myself. Which is code for goofing off and partying with my other peers, who were also “finding themselves.”
I got a lucky break when out of nowhere I was asked by a wealthy summer family, who owned a fancy restaurant in town where I waited tables between my junior and senior year of high school, if I would be willing to live in their oceanfront mansion for the winter until they found a replacement caretaker who would take over in the spring. (Their regular caretaker of thirty years had recently retired to a sunnier climate.) I, of course, jumped at the chance to earn some spending money and live on my own without my mother monitoring my comings and goings.
It was a cushy gig. Basically, I just had to live there from September to March and make sure everything was in working order and not let the pipes freeze up over the winter. I was the envy of all my friends. As they headed back to those tiny dorm rooms at college, I was going to be living the high life in a multimillion-dollar estate. Granted, I was told to live in the maid’s quarters; but still, it was better than my bedroom at my mother’s house, which still sported a ladybug phone and an ’N Sync poster on the wall.
It was a glamorous life spent sipping wine on the porch and watching the leaves change color. But by November, the novelty had worn off. I missed my friends and was bored out of my mind. My closest gal pals had planned a Fort Lauderdale Thanksgiving weekend getaway, but I was unable to attend because of my caretaking duties. I was totally bummed.
By Christmas, I was climbing the walls. I was pretty much over this cold prison by the sea. And to make matters worse, I began hearing strange noises in the night. Squeaks and creaks and all kinds of rustling sounds. Great. Just what I needed. A haunted house. One night I woke up to eerie laughter. Was it a ghost? No, I had just fallen asleep with the TV on and it was a studio audience laughing at David Letterman’s joke. The weird sounds persisted, however, and I checked every nook and cranny in the house, even the cobwebbed attic, which was downright creepy. But I didn’t find anything. Maybe it was just squirrels running around on top of the roof.
Finally, during the Christmas break, my best friends since kindergarten—Liddy, Mona, Beth, Annette, and Penny—descended on the mansion one night for an evening of gorging on our favorite comfort food, including my mother’s famous chocolate pudding recipe she used to whip up when my girlfriends came over to the house. Liddy came armed with spirits just for the occasion—the good kind of spirits, not the ones apparently roaming around in this big house. Her spirits included top-shelf gin she swiped from her parents.
It was just like our high-school sleepovers, in our cute pj’s, with lots of gossiping and giggling. But pretty soon those bizarre scratching noises coming from somewhere inside the house started up again. Mona said it sounded like a dog’s toenails on the hardwood floors. Suddenly a horrible shrieking noise echoed through the house and all five of us jumped up off the floor, screaming, as we piled onto the couch. We huddled together as the terrifying shrieks stopped and started all over again. Nobody knew what to do.
As usual, in any kind of crisis, my bladder was ready to burst; but the bathroom was down the long hallway, exactly where the frightening noises were coming from. Beth, always helping those in need, agreed to accompany me.
The rest of the girls watched, barely breathing, as Beth and I made our way to the bathroom. Beth slowly opened the door and I felt along the wall for the light switch, when suddenly our eyes settled on the grotesque face of a monster in the bathroom illuminated by the moonlight through the window. We both screamed bloody murder! My finger finally found the switch; the lights snapped on; we found ourselves face-to-face with a giant raccoon standing on top of the closed toilet seat. It was screeching and it wasn’t alone. The bathroom was overrun with the wild creatures. Hearing our screams, Liddy went into survival mode and ran to push the panic button on the alarm system, which was wired to the police station in town.
Now I have previously mentioned how quiet the town of Bar Harbor is in the middle of winter. Nothing much ever happens; so when a call does come in, both the police and the fire department respond with flashing squad cars and wailing fire trucks. Then there are the ten to fifteen volunteer police and firemen, bored at home, glued to their police scanners, eager to tag along in the unlikely event they’re needed.
Well, when the whole posse arrived, they found five screaming, babbling girls all shouting at the same time about a pack of wild animals in the bathroom. The police chief just stood there taking in the empty gin bottle on the coffee table and the five of us decked out in our fancy pj’s. No further explanation seemed necessary.
As it turned out, there was only one mother raccoon and three baby ones, which were quickly trapped and carried away. We never found out how they got in, but one of the babies must have accidentally pushed against the bathroom door, locking the whole brood inside.
The police chief mercifully never mentioned the gin bottle. He just told us to stay put for the evening. During all the commotion, Beth struck up a conversation with one of the volunteer policemen, Danny Mays, who recently had relocated to Bar Harbor from Belfast. Well, before the raccoons were deposited back into the wild, they had planned the first of many dates, which would eventually lead to their wedding, with a rousing reception at the Kebo Valley Golf Club, less than two years later. Yes, if I hadn’t decided to become a caretaker for the winter, Beth might never have met her future husband. That’s me. I love helping people.
Now if you have a sweet tooth like me, I probably lost you at my mother’s chocolate pudding recipe. I have a craving too, so let’s make some together. And nothing goes better with chocolate than a chilled glass of champagne.
Pomegranate Champagne Cocktail
Ingredients
1 ounce chilled pomegranate
juice
3 ounces your favorite chilled
champagne
Pour the pomegranate juice into a champagne flute, then top with the champagne. Grab some chocolate, and sit back and relax!
Mom’s Chocolate Pudding
Ingredients
cup sugar
¼ cup cocoa powder
3 tablespoons cornstarch
teaspoon salt
2 cups milk
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
In a microwavable bowl, combine your first four ingredients. Stir in the milk until smooth. Microwave, uncovered on high for three minutes. Microwave at one-minute intervals, stirring after each minute u
ntil thick and creamy. Stir in the vanilla. Pour into a bowl and refrigerate. Spoon into bowls and add fresh whipped topping if desired and then dig in!
Chapter 27
As she rushed to the office after calling Sergio, Hayley realized that during all the commotion after the shooting, she had failed to nail down the identity of Cody’s secret paramour. He certainly wasn’t talking about his red-hot affair, despite Hayley’s threats to expose the affair to his unbalanced other half. And he was probably reasonably confident, given what happened at the shore path, that Hayley would steer clear of his batty, gun-toting wife.
There was always e-mail.
At this point Kerry Donovan was completely convinced Hayley was the other woman, so it would be a challenge convincing her otherwise.
Hayley arrived at the Island Times over an hour late. She shed her coat and quietly made a beeline for her desk, but she wasn’t fast enough.
Sal charged out from the back bull pen to the front office. He was so incensed that Hayley could almost see smoke coming out of his ears, like some Looney Tunes character who ate a burrito with too much hot sauce.
“Hayley, I told you to investigate Bessie Winthrop’s death on your own time! So now you owe me an extra hour’s work!” Sal bellowed.
“I’m only late because I’ve been working on a huge crime story for Bruce’s column,” Hayley said.
“What huge crime story?”
“A local shooting.”
“What? Why didn’t you say so?”
“You didn’t give me a chance.”
“Who got shot?”
“Me. Well, as you can see, I didn’t get shot. The gunman didn’t have very good aim.”
“You? Why am I not surprised?”
“That’s exactly what Sergio said. Why does everybody think I attract trouble?”
Sal opened his mouth to respond, but Hayley held a hand up, stopping him. “Don’t answer that.”
“Any info on the shooter?”
Hayley nodded. “Cody Donovan’s wife. Honestly, I don’t think she was out to hurt us. I think she just wanted to scare us.”
“Us?”
“I was with Cody at the time.”
“I see.”
Hayley looked at Sal’s face.
Smug.
Full of judgment.
“No, Sal. I am not fooling around with Cody Donovan!”
“Apparently, his wife seems to think so.”
“Well, she’s wrong! There is nothing going on between us!”
“So what were you doing with him?”
Hayley took a deep breath. “I was questioning him for a story.”
“What story?”
Checkmate.
He would find out eventually.
“Bessie Winthrop’s death.”
Sal folded his beefy arms and smiled. “You owe me an hour’s work.”
“But, Sal—”
“Just because another crime just happened to occur while you were working on the Bessie story doesn’t get you off the hook. Where’s Mrs. Donovan now?”
“I’m assuming she’s handcuffed and in the back of Sergio’s cruiser. He was heading over to arrest her after I called him twenty minutes ago.”
“Okay, write it up. I want it posted online before the Herald scoops us. I’m sure they’ve already heard about it on the police scanner.”
Hayley fired up her desktop computer and began to type furiously as the door to the office swung open. A statuesque, elegant woman in her early fifties swept inside.
It was Eliza Richards.
The mayor of Bar Harbor.
“Hello, Hayley. You ready, Sal?”
Sal nodded, a goofy grin on his face.
His crush on her was painfully obvious.
“We’re just doing a quick interview over b-breakfast,” Sal stammered.
“You don’t have to explain anything to me, Sal. I’m not your wife,” Hayley said, smiling as she watched Sal squirm a little. It was as if he was afraid she could see the impure thoughts pulsing through his brain.
“I just don’t want people talking about us,” Sal said, laughing, and then quickly stopping himself so he didn’t sound like an idiot.
Too late.
“I’m sure you’re in the clear, Sal,” Hayley said. “You look lovely today, Mayor Richards.”
“Why, thank you, Hayley,” the mayor giggled, touching her hair to make sure every strand was in its proper place.
Mayor Richards was indeed a classy broad, a fashion plate with an impeccable style that most women in town looked up to and admired.
Except for Liddy, who refused to be impressed, given the fact she saw herself as the number one clotheshorse in town. That was why she refused to vote for Mayor Richards.
Sal couldn’t help himself. He had to explain everything in case this little midmorning confab was misconstrued and got back to his wife. “We’re going to the coffee shop across the street. I want to ask the mayor some questions about her efforts to overhaul the town’s parking spaces and make them diagonal so the streets can accommodate more vehicles, given the fact over a million tourists pour into town every summer!”
“Thank you for that detailed rundown of your agenda at the coffee shop, Sal,” Hayley said, teasing him.
“The old-school city council members are fighting it, of course,” the mayor said. “They want to veto any change! But change is good. I just need to get the public on my side, especially the ones with local businesses who depend on a lot of tourists showing up every year.”
Hayley noticed a little spittle glistening on the sides of Sal’s mouth.
He was literally drooling.
Sal cleared his throat and wiped his mouth. “Well, we better be going.”
Hayley stood up from her desk, noticing a beautiful and bedazzling bracelet on the mayor’s wrist. “Oh, that’s gorgeous.”
“Isn’t it?” the mayor cooed, glancing over to Sal, who nodded vigorously, like a bashful, horny teenage boy.
“What is that? Some kind of flower?” Hayley asked, pointing to the center of the bracelet.
“It’s a gold poppy bangle. A one of a kind. Made specially for me by a jeweler in France I met while on holiday there a few years ago.”
“It’s very unique.”
And yet very familiar.
Hayley was sure she had seen it before.
And then it hit her.
Like a ton of bricks.
Gold poppy bangle.
Hayley let go of the mayor’s hand and casually came around her desk and reached into her bag, which was hanging on the coatrack by its strap. She covertly pulled out the photos she had printed off Bessie’s phone and studied them for a moment.
The mysterious, unseen woman in bed with Cody was wearing the exact same bracelet.
She glanced over at the bracelet the mayor was wearing.
Gold poppy bangle.
Polished band of sterling silver.
One of a kind.
The other woman Cody was sleeping with was the mayor of Bar Harbor.
Sal came up behind Hayley, reaching for his winter jacket and bumped into Hayley. She fell forward, grabbing the coatrack to steady herself, and dropped the pictures. They scattered across the floor.
Most of them faceup.
Hayley pounced on them and frantically began scooping them up, but she just wasn’t fast enough.
The mayor stared at the photos.
Her face frozen.
There was no mistaking what they were.
And who was in them.
Sal was too busy struggling into his coat to notice.
Mayor Richards calmly turned to Sal as Hayley stuffed the photos back inside her bag. “Do you mind if I meet you at the coffee shop? I have some business to take care of first.”
“Sure. I’ll order you an English breakfast tea with honey. I know how you like that with your poppy seed lemon muffin,” Sal said, winking at the mayor as he shuffled out the door.
The s
econd the door shut, the mayor swung around to face Hayley. “Please, Hayley, I’m begging you. Please don’t tell anyone. I’m up for reelection in November.”
“I’m not out to create a scandal. I just—”
“I don’t know where you got those, but, trust me, it was a brief affair. Nothing consequential. A mindless fling. One I regret with all my heart. It’s over, and I promise I will never stray again.”
“That’s nice, but I’m not interested in exposing—”
“My husband is a good man. He loves me. Our thirtieth wedding anniversary is around the corner. If he were ever to find out—”
“Mayor Richards, you have to believe, I don’t plan on saying anything to anyone. If you are up front and honest with me.”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Well, you are sneaking around behind your husband’s back. And then there is the fact that you are a politician.”
Mayor Richards grimaced.
“I have to ask. Did you have anything to do with Bessie Winthrop’s death?”
“Bessie? I thought she died of a heart attack. Isn’t that what the papers said?”
“Yes, but I happen to think there is more to the story, and you’re smack in the middle of it.”
“I barely knew Bessie. Why would I do anything to harm her? Good Lord, Hayley, I went to Brown. I did time in the Peace Corps. I support our troops. How can you even insinuate I would do anything so insidious? How could anyone think that?”
The mayor was speaking passionately, but her eyes were telling a different story.
