Yule Log Murder

by Leslie Meier

  “I’d love to have one, thank you,” Hayley said, plucking a cookie off the plate and taking a bite. It was so hard she thought she might break a tooth, but she gamely chewed it and made a few obligatory moans to convince Edie that she found her awful cookies, in fact, yummy.

  Sometimes a little white lie was necessary to keep the peace.

  Edie was still stinging from Kimmy Bradford’s rejection. She remained by Hayley’s side, eyeing Kimmy and her lily-white bosom popping out of her frilly black mourning dress, disdainfully. “Can you believe she had the nerve to wear that to church of all places? Honestly, even the statue of Jesus on the cross had a surprised look on his face when she waltzed in, practically flashing her breasts!”

  Hayley had no intention of encouraging this particular conversation with Edie Staples. “It was a lovely service.”

  “Yes, it was. I wish there had been more people here to appreciate the reverend’s hard work to come up with just the right words.”

  Hayley struggled not to roll her eyes.

  “But Ryan Toledo was a thug, so I’m hardly surprised my poor husband had to play to a nearly empty house.”

  As if the reverend’s sermon was akin to a one-man Broadway show.

  “You know, she paid for the service,” Edie said offhandedly, gesturing toward Kimmy Bradford in the corner.

  “Who? Kimmy?” Hayley asked.

  “Yes. It costs money to heat the church on a cold day like this, and it’s only fair I be compensated for the time and effort I put into preparing such a mouthwatering spread.”

  Hayley bit her lower lip to keep herself from laughing.

  Edie eyed her suspiciously, so Hayley took another bite of the cinnamon cookie and moaned again. “Delish.”

  That was all Edie needed to suddenly consider Hayley a trusted confidante. Edie leaned in, and whispered under her breath, “When she came to meet with the reverend and discuss what she wanted for the service, I could tell she still loved him.”

  “Ryan?”

  “Yes, well, we all know the history.”

  “I don’t. Not really. I mean, I heard the rumors, like everybody else.”

  “They weren’t just rumors. I witnessed the whole ugly affair firsthand, back when I was volunteering as a teacher’s aide at the high school.”

  Edie stared at Kimmy, all by herself, sitting on a hard metal chair in the corner of the parlor, her hefty bosom rising and falling with each sob. “I knew she was trouble from the moment she came back to Bar Harbor after college. She had obviously changed from the sweet, quiet, flat-chested little girl she was during her high-school years. Suddenly, after four years away, she had transformed into this predatory vixen, with her revealing tops and her face caked with too much makeup, and those breasts, I mean really, they can’t be real. What would her poor parents say if they were still around?”

  Kimmy’s parents were not dead. Her father, the minister who preceded Reverend Staples at the Congregational Church, retired after Kimmy went off to college. Her parents bought a camper and were currently touring the country, making an adventure out of their golden years.

  “So you say you were volunteering at the high school when Kimmy left under mysterious circumstances?” Hayley asked, trying her best to get Edie back on point.

  “There was nothing mysterious about it,” Edie huffed. “She was summarily dismissed . . . for an inappropriate relationship with a student.”

  “Ryan Toledo?”

  “Bingo. It was common knowledge amongst the staff in the principal’s office, although they tried to sweep the whole ugly situation under the rug.”

  “How old was Ryan?”

  “Seventeen. His parents weren’t around, and his older brother, who was acting as his guardian, didn’t care one way or the other, so there was no one to raise holy hell about it. So Principal Harkins called Kimmy into his office and gave her an ultimatum—either she resign her position effective immediately or he would call the police and report her. Well, needless to say, Kimmy emptied her desk and was gone before the final bell. I had to fill in for her until a replacement could be found. It was a very stressful time.”

  So the rumors were true.

  Hayley saw Kimmy struggle to her feet, cross over to Reverend Staples, shake his hand, and whisper a thank-you, before grabbing her faux-fur coat off a rack and rocketing out the side door.

  Hayley spun around and smiled at Edie Staples. “I have to go! Happy Holidays!” And then she chased Kimmy Bradford out the door as Edie called after her, “Don’t you want to take some of the leftover cinnamon cookies home with you?”

  * * *

  The door slammed behind her before Hayley could manage a response. She was singularly focused on catching Kimmy before she got to her car. But the only cars left in the parking lot were Hayley’s Kia and Reverend Staples’s Land Rover. Kimmy was halfway down the gravel path heading toward the sidewalk.

  “Kimmy, wait up!” Hayley shouted.

  Kimmy stopped, startled, and turned around to face Hayley. Her faux-fur coat was wide open, exposing her ample chest.

  She didn’t speak. She just stared at Hayley, waiting for her to talk first.

  “Um, I noticed you didn’t drive here . . .”

  “No. I took a taxi because I was afraid I would get too emotional to drive. I’m going to walk home.”

  “It’s freezing cold. And you live all the way across town. Why don’t you let me give you a lift home?”

  “You don’t have to do that,” Kimmy said.

  She wasn’t used to people being nice to her, not since she had left the high school under such a cloud of suspicion and scandal.

  “That’s very nice of you, Hayley, thank you.”

  As they walked side by side toward her car, Hayley felt a twinge of guilt.

  This wasn’t an act of kindness. Hayley wanted to get inside Kimmy’s house to see if the Yule log Gemma and Conner had delivered to her at the real estate office was in her home. Because if it was intact, still wrapped in the basket and tied to the log with a red ribbon, then Kimmy Bradford would be in the clear for Ryan’s murder.

  When they pulled up in front of Kimmy’s house, Kimmy casually asked Hayley if she would like to come in for a cup of coffee, half-expecting her to say no. Hayley jumped on the invitation, though, which seemed to surprise Kimmy. But she couldn’t withdraw the invite, so she got out of the car and led Hayley to the front door.

  Kimmy apologized for how chilly it was in the house, muttering an excuse about a faulty heater, but Hayley suspected she was conserving more than the average person, since she wasn’t making nearly enough money as a receptionist to pay the hefty winter heating bills. Hayley followed Kimmy to the kitchen and glanced around in search of the Yule log, but did not immediately spot it. Kimmy filled a coffeepot with water from the sink and slid it into the coffeemaker, adding the grounds in the top and pressing the on button.

  “So did you have a chance to try my chocolate Yule log?” Hayley asked.

  “What?”

  The question seemed to startle her.

  “Gemma mentioned she dropped off one of my Yule logs to your office the other day,” Hayley said as casually as she could.

  “Oh . . . yes. Thank you. I haven’t tried it yet. As you can imagine, it’s been a very trying time. I haven’t been eating much. I’m storing it in the freezer I have downstairs in my basement until I have a moment to enjoy it.”

  Hayley had a feeling that Kimmy was lying.

  There was nothing overt about her manner.

  She didn’t twitch or look away when she said it.

  It was just a feeling.

  Once the coffee was ready, Kimmy invited Hayley into her living room. She also put out a plate of store-bought cookies that were far more scrumptious than Edie Staples’s rock-hard, bland homemade treats.

  Hayley was wondering just how she could manage to slip away and sneak down into Kimmy’s basement to check the freezer to make sure she was telling the truth. />
  Finally the house phone rang, and Kimmy answered it.

  “Mom, Dad, so nice to hear from you! Where are you, still in Arizona?”

  Kimmy raised a finger, signaling Hayley she would be just a minute, and then wandered into the kitchen for a modicum of privacy.

  Hayley wasted no time in setting her coffee cup down on a side table and jumping to her feet, quickly making her way to the door in the hallway that led down to the basement. As she descended the stairs, she could still hear Kimmy’s muffled voice in the kitchen. She saw the freezer instantly and scurried over to open it.

  There was no sign of the Yule log.

  She rummaged through the frozen meats and TV dinners.

  Nothing.

  Her instinct was right.

  Kimmy was lying to her.

  The Yule log was gone.

  When she closed the freezer, she noticed a board propped up against the wall.

  It was covered with selfies of Ryan and Kimmy in private moments, photos of Ryan by himself smiling, Ryan shirtless, Ryan asleep. There were dozens of them tacked to the board.

  It was like a shrine.

  Downright creepy.

  And it made Hayley shiver.

  Kimmy was obviously still obsessed with him, which would explain why she used her own money—money she probably didn’t have—to pay for his memorial service.

  Was it out of devotion or guilt?

  Was Ryan’s death a crime of passion? Carried out by an emotionally unstable stalker, with Hayley’s real Yule log as the murder weapon?

  Suddenly, from behind her, Hayley heard Kimmy’s stern voice.

  “What are you doing down here?”

  Chapter Eight

  Hayley spun around and gasped at the sight of Kimmy standing at the bottom of the stairs, gripping a large knife in her hand.

  Hayley slowly backed away. “Kimmy, please put the knife down . . .”

  Kimmy glanced down at the knife in her hand and smirked. “Relax, Hayley. I told my parents I had company and would call them back. I was just going to cut you a piece of my homemade cherry pie. Edie Staples isn’t the only one in town who likes to bake sweets.”

  Hayley felt a wave of relief wash over her.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to freak you out,” Kimmy said before noticing her loving shrine to Ryan Toledo in plain view. “I can see why you’d be so jumpy after seeing that.”

  “What you do down here is your own business,” Hayley said, throwing her hands up.

  “Then why did you sneak down here?”

  She had a point.

  And it was time to come clean.

  “I was looking for the Yule log Gemma delivered to you at your office. You said you put it in the freezer down here and it’s not there. Why did you lie to me?”

  “Because I didn’t want to admit to you that I regifted it.”

  “You what?”

  “I gave it away. To Ryan. I know he loves chocolate, and I’d already put on a few unnecessary pounds after one-too-many holiday parties, so on my way over to Liddy’s party that night, I left it on his doorstep with a little note.”

  A love note, no doubt.

  “I thought he might appreciate it. I missed him terribly, so I invited him to come around on New Year’s Eve for a little party I was planning on having. But I neglected to mention in the note that only two people were going to attend. . . me and him.”

  “Oh, Kimmy . . .”

  “I know, I’m a damn fool. I’ve never gotten over him. After we got caught and I was forced to resign from the high school, it was only a few weeks after that when Ryan turned eighteen, so it was no longer a crime to be together. But I guess I was too intense, too much in love, and it scared him, because he dumped me. Since then, it’s been a long road trying to get over him.”

  Kimmy noticed Hayley eyeing the shrine of photographs on the poster board.

  “Obviously,” Hayley sighed. “Did you talk to him when he showed up at Liddy’s party?”

  “Briefly. He was too focused on talking to your daughter. I asked him if he got the Yule log, and he said no. He told me there was nothing on his doorstep when he got home, which isn’t surprising, given the sketchy neighborhood where he lives. Anybody on the street could have swiped it.”

  Hayley nodded, still not sure whether Kimmy was telling her the truth or not.

  “I didn’t kill him, Hayley. I loved him. I still love him. If that Yule log I left at his house was the murder weapon, the killer could be anybody in town.”

  Kimmy was right.

  The killer could have been lurking outside Ryan’s house, stolen the Yule log after Kimmy left it on the doorstep, and then followed him to the party, waited outside until Ryan left, and then attacked him in the woods on his way home when he was all alone.

  “I suppose I should be relieved,” Kimmy whispered.

  Hayley arched an eyebrow. “Relieved?”

  “I’ve been burning up with jealousy for years. Finally, with Ryan gone, I may find some peace.”

  “What were you so jealous of?”

  “Please, it was no secret Ryan got around, if you know what I mean. He was sleeping with a bunch of other women. He tried to be very discreet about it, but I knew.”

  “Were you spying on him?” Hayley asked carefully.

  “I wouldn’t call it spying,” Kimmy snarled. “I mean, every so often I would drive by his house to see if he was home, or follow him every now and then when he took his Harley out, usually to the house of one of his girlfriends, but I would hardly call that spying.”

  Uh, yes, that would be the textbook definition of spying, Hayley thought.

  “Did you know any of the girls he was seeing?”

  Kimmy scoffed. “Yes, and they weren’t girls, believe me. As you may have guessed from my own history with Ryan, he was attracted to older women, some much older . . . and married.”

  “I see,” Hayley replied. “No wonder there were no signed cards on all those flower arrangements at the memorial service. They were probably from the married women in Ryan’s stable who preferred to remain anonymous.”

  “Trust me. He was the Don Juan of Bar Harbor,” Kimmy said.

  Hayley was embarrassed to ask, but couldn’t resist. “Was he that good?”

  Kimmy offered a wistful smile. “Better than you could ever imagine.”

  “Wow. Who knew?”

  “Certainly, none of their husbands,” Kimmy said, not realizing Hayley’s question was rhetorical.

  The suspect list was growing by the minute.

  The killer could have been any number of scorned lovers.

  Or maybe a jealous husband who suddenly discovered his wife was having an affair with bad-news Ryan Toledo.

  “So who are these women, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  “Currently there are three, that I know of. Lenora Hopkins was the only one who dared to show up at the funeral. Mostly because she’s divorced and Ryan was of legal age, and she really didn’t have any reason to hide the affair.”

  “And the other two?”

  “Lacey Reinhart and Beth Sanford.”

  Hayley knew both women. Lacey Reinhart was the wife of Dan Reinhart, a high-level executive at one of the local banks. Beth Sanford was a travel agent and married to Stan Sanford, a city council member. Hayley instantly dismissed both Lacey and Beth as suspects, because Lacey was currently in the Bar Harbor Hospital for knee surgery and Beth was visiting relatives in Florida with her family. Of the purported three women involved with Ryan at the time of his murder, only Lenora Hopkins was both in town and able-bodied enough to carry out the murder.

  Hayley wanted to speak with her right away. “I have to go . . .”

  Kimmy raised the knife, stopping Hayley dead in her tracks. “Wait . . .”

  Hayley stared at the knife, taking in a deep breath.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to stay for a piece of my cherry pie? I swear I’m a much better cook than Edie Staples.”


  “I don’t doubt it, but let me take a rain check.” Hayley smiled before gingerly passing Kimmy, who was still clutching the knife, and rushing up the stairs.

  * * *

  Fifteen minutes later, when Hayley rang the bell next to the front door of Lenora Hopkins’s house, she braced herself for a chilly reception, given Lenora’s rude demeanor at the funeral, barely two hours earlier.

  The door flung open with a whoosh, and after sizing her up and down, Lenora scowled. “I was wondering when you’d show up here. You might as well come in.”

  Lenora waved her inside.

  Hayley entered the front hallway and was led into the living room, where she was confronted by an oversized tree. It was weighed down by so many lights and ornaments, it looked as if it might topple over at any minute. Knitted stockings drooped from the fireplace and there was a small nativity scene on the coffee table.

  “Sit down. I’ll get us some coffee,” Lenora said, trying her best to be a warm hostess, but coming off as just annoyed.

  “No, thanks, I’m fine. So you were expecting me?”

  “Yes. After I saw you at the funeral, I figured you’d start poking around. The police haven’t arrested anyone for Ryan’s murder yet. So given your reputation and how you like to insert yourself into every scandal that hits town, I figured it would only be a matter of time before you made your way here.”

  “My reputation precedes me,” Hayley joked.

  “I didn’t say it was a good reputation,” Lenora snickered.

  Hayley decided to let that one go.

  Lenora sat down on the couch and picked up a wool stocking she was knitting and began working on it, her needles clicking, as she got right to the point. “Ryan thought he was so smart. He actually believed that none of the women he was sleeping with knew about the others. But I knew all about his secret trysts with Lacey and Beth.”

  “Did it bother you?”

  “Why should it? I wasn’t planning to marry the kid. Listen, this is a small town and most of the men my age are taken or not worth my time. It got lonely after my divorce from Ron. I hired Ryan to do some yard work for me last summer, and I could tell he was interested in starting something. So I thought, ‘Why the hell not?’ I was single again and had needs, and he was young and had muscles and a pretty face. I wasn’t foolish enough to think he was attracted to me. It was clear very early on that he was more attracted to the cash and gifts I showered upon him after our special afternoons together than in actually getting to know me. Although I can’t speak for Lacey and Beth . . . maybe they were dumb enough to buy his load of bull crap.”