Yule Log Murder

by Leslie Meier

  Hayley stepped forward, closer to DeAnn. “He was here. He said so. Watching The Last Jedi, not A Christmas Story, which is what you tried to get me to believe. Mother and son home alone, enjoying a chocolate Yule log and a fun Christmas movie. No, that wasn’t what happened. Why did you invite Ryan over to the house, knowing Eben would be here?”

  DeAnn’s eyes brimmed with tears.

  “He wasn’t supposed to be here, was he?” Hayley said.

  DeAnn slowly shook her head, tears now flowing down her cheeks. “No. He was going to stay over at a friend’s house, but he changed his mind at the last minute and stayed home. He didn’t tell me. I thought Ryan and I would have the whole house to ourselves . . .”

  “Ryan had a head start on you, so he arrived here first. He probably knew where you hid the spare key from his previous visits, so he let himself inside through the back kitchen door. He probably rummaged through your fridge, found the chocolate Yule log cake Gemma had dropped off earlier, and decided to eat it while he waited for you to show up . . . but Eben was home, and was in the living room, watching a movie, and when he heard someone in the kitchen and came in here to see if you or Ron had come home, he was confronted by a stranger, whom he had never seen before . . .”

  Hayley stared at DeAnn for a moment to receive some kind of confirmation that her version of events was true. DeAnn simply sobbed and looked down at the floor, which was all the confirmation she really needed.

  “Eben must have thought Ryan was a burglar and grabbed the only weapon within his reach . . . the wooden log that had come with the chocolate Yule log . . . ,” Hayley said.

  “I didn’t lie . . . it was an accident . . . just a terrible, horrible accident. It wasn’t Eben’s fault. He’s just a boy. He was only trying to defend his home. He didn’t know . . .”

  “You must have arrived moments later to find Ryan dead on the floor from a massive hemorrhage caused by the blow to his head. When Eben told you what had happened, you panicked. You didn’t want to have to explain why Ryan was in your house, and you certainly didn’t want your son going to jail for murder, so instead of calling the police, you had Eben help you move the body to the trunk of your car. The two of you drove him out to the woods near Liddy’s house and left him there for somebody else to find, so nothing would be connected to you. You hoped the police would focus on Conner, given the fact that he had a fight with Ryan in front of dozens of witnesses at the party.”

  DeAnn covered her face with her hands and bawled.

  “What did you do with the log Eben used to strike Ryan?”

  DeAnn tried wiping the tears off her face with one arm as she gestured toward the fireplace with her free one. “I told you, we burned it in the fireplace.”

  “And came up with the story that you and Eben had spent the whole evening watching a movie. Only you forgot to get your movies straight.”

  Eben suddenly appeared.

  He was at least six feet two inches standing up and he towered over Hayley, almost menacingly. “Does she know, Mom?”

  “Don’t stay another word,” DeAnn warned. “Not until we call a lawyer.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Upon hearing the news of his wife and stepson’s arrest, Ron Hopkins immediately put his store manager in charge of the supermarket. He took an indefinite leave of absence in order to help his family with their pending legal battles, which loomed over the upcoming new year.

  Hayley felt awful about the whole nasty business. It was, after all, an accident, but according to Sergio, there would certainly be charges brought, most likely involuntary manslaughter for Eben and obstruction of justice for DeAnn for her role in orchestrating the cover-up. It was going to be a gloomy, sad Christmas for the beleaguered Hopkins family. Hayley held out hope that at least in the case of Eben, there would be no jail time and he would be able to put this whole sordid episode behind him and move on, especially with so much of his life still ahead of him.

  This was one time Hayley’s insatiable need to dig and dig until she uncovered the truth had been far from satisfying. She had wondered in the hours after DeAnn’s full confession to the police if justice, in this case, had really been served. Did her dogged pursuit of the facts ruin a family? She shared her troubled thoughts with her brother-in-law, Sergio, but he assured her that she had done the right thing. The truth has a way of coming out eventually, and for Ron Hopkins, for DeAnn, and, yes, even for Eben, it was best to deal with the consequences now instead of later when the guilt and regret would have undoubtedly eaten away at them, perhaps causing even more damage.

  Still, as Christmas Eve finally arrived, Hayley decided to leave a Christmas card in the Hopkinses’ mailbox. The lights were on inside, and she assumed they were home, having heard Ron posted bail for both DeAnn and Eben earlier that day. In the card, she simply offered her help if they needed it.

  She didn’t expect to hear from them.

  But she had to leave the door open.

  * * *

  When Hayley arrived home, pulling into the driveway, she could see through the kitchen window Gemma and Conner preparing dinner together. They looked happy and content, and that was the moment Hayley knew she had to say something.

  She got out of the car and marched inside the house through the back door, which led into the kitchen.

  “There you are! We were getting ready to send out a search party!” Conner said with a warm smile as he spotted her entering and kicking off her boots and coat.

  “Sorry, I had an errand to run after work,” Hayley said, returning the smile. “Something sure smells good.”

  “I’m making a turkey dumpling stew for dinner,” Gemma said, moving to the stove and stirring the pot on the burner with a long wooden spoon.

  “It’s been a Christmas Eve tradition at my family’s house for years, so Gemma thought since I wasn’t going to be with my own family, she’d make a batch here.”

  “I think that’s a lovely idea,” Hayley said.

  She could hear Dustin and Bruce in the living room in the midst of a competitive video game, yelling at each other and trying to distract one another in order to score more points.

  Hayley’s whole family was gathered together for the holiday, and for that, she was so grateful. She felt her eyes welling up with tears, and she tried to fight them back, but she couldn’t, and the waterworks soon started.

  Conner was the first to notice, because Gemma was checking on a loaf of bread baking in the oven.

  “Mrs. Powell, are you okay?” Conner asked.

  “Yes, I’m fine,” Hayley said, sniffing. “I just get overly emotional this time of year.”

  Conner instinctively walked over and enveloped her in a hug.

  Hayley almost resisted at first, still hanging on to her first impression of him when he arrived, but then she wrapped her arms around him and hugged him back. She knew in her heart he was sincere in his efforts to comfort her.

  And she was now seeing him in a whole new light.

  “I’m sorry . . . ,” she choked out.

  “For what?” he asked, leaning back to look at her, with a truly puzzled look on his face.

  “For everything, Conner, for everything . . .”

  Gemma had shut the oven door and was watching the scene between her mother and boyfriend, completely mesmerized.

  “Oh, that,” he said, laughing. “Please don’t worry about it. I would’ve suspected me, too.”

  He could have blamed her, even used the situation to drive a wedge between her and Gemma, but he was letting it go, and she was grateful for that, too.

  Hayley gave him a gentle peck on the cheek. “You’re a good man, Conner. You be sure to take care of my girl in New York City.”

  “It will be my number one priority,” he assured her.

  “Merry Christmas, Conner,” Hayley said.

  “Merry Christmas,” he replied.

  “Enough with the lovefest,” Gemma said, “Let’s eat.”

  And as they sa
t down to enjoy Christmas Eve dinner, Hayley counted the many blessings in her life.

  And she found herself crying all over again.

  Bruce, who was sitting next to her, squeezed her hand to let her know he was there for her, and she imagined in her mind a future Christmas with Bruce by her side, in this very house where she raised her children, when Dustin and Gemma would come home with their own families to celebrate Christmas.

  And hopefully with good health and a little luck, there would be many, many more of those memorable holidays to come.

  Merry Christmas, everyone!

  Island Food & Spirits

  By Hayley Powell

  Last night after my daughter, Gemma, and her new beau, Conner, headed back to New York City after spending Christmas in Bar Harbor, and my son, Dustin, scooted off to play some new video game at a buddy’s house, and my own beau, Bruce, headed home to work on his column for Friday’s edition of the Island Times, I decided to treat myself to a nice cup of my brother Randy’s homemade mulled wine and a generous slice of leftover Yule log cake. I settled into my recliner in front of a roaring fire, with my cat, Blueberry, curled up on my lap, my dog, Leroy, at my feet, and replayed once again in my mind the happy memories of our family Christmas together.

  There was a strong sense of familiarity as I thought about the last few days, a slight feeling of déjà vu or something like it, and then it suddenly dawned on me. I lifted Blueberry off my lap, raced to my computer, and began searching my files for past Christmas columns I had published in the Island Times.

  And suddenly it was there, right in front of me: a column I had written a few years ago, when my kids were still living in the house and I was a single mom, doing my best to raise them.

  I had written about a dream I had one Christmas Eve, a dream set far in the future. I remembered when I wrote that column the dream seemed so fantastical, so far away, but now with the passage of time, I could actually see my future life as depicted in the dream starting to slowly take shape.

  I breathlessly read through the column, amazed at the details, some of which I will excerpt here:

  I quickly fell into a deep sleep and dreamt of a Christmas future, and I’m happy to report that I looked pretty darn good for it being about twenty or so years from now. Just a few gray hairs. Not too many wrinkles. I guess that’s why they call it a dream.

  I was married again. That was my first shock.

  My husband and I were sitting in our living room and waiting for our guests to arrive on Christmas Eve. We were sipping on a lovely bottle of Off the Vine wine made from our very own Bar Harbor Vineyard, which we had purchased some years back when the original owners decided to retire; and with the help of a few of our friends and family, we were all enjoying a little bit of extra yearly income and loads of great wine at our disposal to share with friends and family.

  The first to arrive was one of my oldest friends, and still one of my two BFFs, Liddy, who had scored a huge multimillion-dollar sale on a mansion on the island that once had been owned by a former TV producer a few years back.

  She was now retired and traveling the world and had recently brought back one of her latest acquisitions—a stunningly good-looking young man from Costa Rica, “young” being the operative word. I wasn’t even sure if he was old enough to drink the wine we were serving.

  Next to arrive was my other best friend, Mona, with a few of her grown children who still lived on the island, and she was carrying a newborn baby in each arm, but I am relieved to say they were her grandchildren. I was starting to lose count of her grandchildren that her offspring were constantly providing for her, but she was thrilled and proud of each and every one of them.

  Next was my brother, Randy, who still owned his bar, Drinks Like A Fish, but it had become so popular he had bought up two more properties and now had three highly successful watering holes for the locals and visiting tourists to frequent.

  He was still with his husband, Sergio, who was as handsome as ever (although I have to admit, Liddy’s new boy toy gave him a run for his money).

  Sergio was still the chief of police for Bar Harbor. Poor Officer Donnie was waiting patiently for Sergio to hand over the reins to him, but my brother-in-law loved his job so much that he wasn’t quite ready for retirement just yet.

  My son, Dustin, soon arrived. He looked to be in his early thirties and had grown quite tall and very handsome. Hanging on to his arm was a lovely woman, his fiancée, Destiny.

  Mona’s grandchildren ran eagerly to Dustin as he was bearing copies of his latest successful video game, a futuristic James Bond–type adventure, which, of course, I never understood. But to no one’s surprise, he became a popular video game designer in California, where he and his future bride resided.

  Last, but not least, the door flung open again and in breezed my daughter, Gemma, who had grown into such a beautiful woman! I’m proud to admit she had followed in her mother’s footsteps, or at least a small footprint of it.

  Gemma had chosen not to go to vet school, and instead moved to New York City, where she was now a well-known food writer. The restaurant world clamored for her to come try out their delicious creations in hopes they would get a glowing review in the food magazine that published her columns. But, of course, in true Gemma fashion, she was a tough critic, with a fierce reputation, in the close-knit but competitive group of top-ranked food writers. She rarely gave rave reviews. You had to knock her off her feet. If you did, then your restaurant was suddenly on everybody’s radar, and reservations became near impossible to get. My husband and I dined at most of them, thanks to my powerhouse daughter’s many connections.

  I would like to take at least a sliver of credit for her impeccable palate. But whenever I did, I would get that withering look she used to give me as a teenager: Oh, Mom!

  Following behind her was her adoring businessman husband who thought the world of his food critic wife, and my equally adorable two twin grandchildren, Jack and Daniel. Somewhere in their names, I feel there was a loving nod to their grandmother there.

  I stared at the computer in a state of shock. It was so prescient, like a psychic prediction slowly coming true. Gemma moving to New York to start a career in the food industry. Dustin following his dream to be a video game designer. And me . . . so resolutely single at the time I had the dream, but now . . . this awesome future husband with our fabulous vineyard . . . Could it possibly be . . . ? Oh, my God, I need another glass of Randy’s Crock-Pot Mulled Wine and an extra piece of Christmas Yule Log, stat! Happy New Year, everyone!

  Randy’s Crock-Pot Mulled Wine

  Ingredients

  1 bottle (750ml) Merlot

  2 cups apple cider

  ¼ cup honey

  1 orange, zested and juiced

  5 whole cloves

  4 cardamom pods

  2 cinnamon sticks

  1 star anise

  ¼ cup brandy

  Orange slices and extra cinnamon sticks for garnish (optional)

  Add your wine, honey, apple cider, orange zest, and orange juice to your Crock-Pot. Stir to combine. Add the cloves, cardamom, cinnamon, and star anise. Cook on low until warm for about an hour. Stir in the brandy.

  Ladle into mugs and garnish with orange slices and cinnamon sticks, if you like.

  Keep your Crock-Pot on the warm setting for a nice mulled wine. This can be doubled, tripled, or more, just adjust accordingly.

  Hayley’s Christmas Yule Log

  Ingredients

  For the Yule Log:

  ½ cup butter

  1 cup semisweet chocolate chips

  5 eggs

  1¼ cups sugar

  1¼ cups flour

  1 teaspoon baking powder

  ¾ cup water

  For the Filling:

  6 ounces cream cheese, room temperature

  1 cup powdered sugar (more for your towel later)

  1½ cups your favorite whipped cream

  Preheat your oven to 350 degrees. Prepare
an 11 x 17 pan or a half-sheet cake pan by spraying it with cooking spray or greasing pan and adding parchment paper.

  In a microwave bowl, melt your butter and chocolate chips in 30-second increments, stirring until smooth and set aside.

  In a stand mixer, beat the eggs on high until nice and frothy. Keep the mixer on low and slowly add the sugar. Now slowly add the chocolate mixture and mix until blended.

  Sift the baking powder with the flour, then on low speed alternate adding the flour mixture and water a little bit at a time, ending with the flour, and mix until it is just incorporated, you don’t want to overly mix.

  While your cake is baking, sprinkle lots of powdered sugar on a clean dish towel.

  When the cake is done, remove it from oven. Do not cool, but immediately turn it out onto the dish towel. Starting on the short end of the towel, roll the towel and cake up together. Now allow to cool completely.

  Prepare your filling by mixing your cream cheese on high for four to five minutes. Gradually add the powdered sugar until well blended. Fold in your whipped cream.

  Carefully unroll your cake. Remove towel and spread the filling all over cake and gently roll it back up (without towel). Refrigerate at least one hour before slicing and serving with some warm mulled wine to your friends.

  Note: This is the basic cake, but please feel free to frost and/or decorate your rolled cake any way you want and to be as creative as you like!

  Dear Readers,

  We hope you’ve enjoyed Death by Yule Log, the latest holiday adventure starring our crime-solving food & cocktails columnist and single mom Hayley Powell. Now that her kids are grown up and out of the house, big changes are on the horizon for Hayley and we hope you keep reading to see what life is about to bring our intrepid heroine as she continues her hobby of investigating suspicious deaths in her hometown of Bar Harbor, Maine.