Death of a Country Fried Redneck (Hayley Powell Food and Cocktails Mysteries)

by Lee Hollis

  Probably another fight with his wife.

  “No,” Randy said on the other end of the line. “Sergio hauled him in for questioning, but apparently Curtis was very calm and cooperative. Said he was happy to answer any questions and do whatever he could to assist in the investigation.”

  “Could be covering,” Hayley said. “He really despised Mickey.”

  “Or it could’ve been someone else.”

  “But who? Who else on the tour had a problem with Mickey? Wade certainly did, but luckily that little pain in the butt Darrell Rodick provided him with an alibi. I need to talk to the entire crew. Mickey was a loud-mouthed, mean-spirited bastard. I’m sure he ticked off more than a few people he worked with.”

  “And I’m sure Sergio will question all of them,” Randy said. “Let him do his job, Hayley. For both our sakes.”

  “You’re right,” Hayley said. “I’ve really got to reign in this curious nature I have.”

  “Like that’s ever going to happen,” Randy said, snickering.

  The front door flew open again, and Liddy breathlessly swept into the office, her eyes wide and arms flapping. “Hayley! Hayley! Hang up! We have to talk!”

  “I’ll call you back, Randy,” Hayley said, hanging up, and then turned to Liddy. “Someone’s already had too much caffeine this morning.”

  Liddy sat down in a chair next to Hayley’s desk, opened her bag, and fished for a compact. She flipped it open and studied herself as she adjusted her hair. “I just came from the salon. How do I look? Too matronly? They always make me look like someone’s spinster aunt. I really need a trip to New York to see a serious stylist.”

  “You look fine.”

  “You have to say that. You’re my best friend and you don’t want to hurt my feelings with an honest opinion. Maybe I should ask Mona. She doesn’t care about my feelings.”

  “Is there a reason you popped by, Liddy? Because it’s kind of busy around here today.”

  “Oh, please, you were just on the phone gossiping with your brother. How busy can it be? I came because I have some news I thought you would like to know about.”

  “You found your earring?”

  “No. I can’t even think about that. It’ll just make me cry again.”

  “Then what’s the big news? I have work to do.”

  “Well, it concerns the Mickey Pritchett murder. But if you’re too busy . . .”

  Liddy stood up to leave.

  “Wait. What did you hear?”

  “No. I don’t want to disturb you while you are at work. It was thoughtless and rude of me to just drop by unannounced even though I am single-handedly keeping this paper alive with all my real estate advertising.”

  “Liddy!”

  Liddy plopped back down in the chair. “Okay, listen to this. The salon doesn’t actually open until ten, but sometimes they’ll take VIP clients early in the morning so we don’t have to engage in small talk with the usual riffraff.”

  “You mean, clients like me?”

  “Oh, honey, you know what I mean.”

  “Yes, I’m afraid I do,” Hayley said, shaking her head. “Go on.”

  “Well, I wasn’t the only VIP getting my hair done this morning. Guess who was in the chair right next to me getting a blow-dry?”

  “Kim Kardashian!”

  Liddy gave Hayley a withering look.

  “What? You told me to guess.”

  “Not literally. I was going to tell you.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Wade Springer’s one mistake in life. That off-key harlot ex-wife of his.”

  “Stacy Jo Stanton.”

  “Yes, and I’ll tell you something. That self-involved witch is so unfriendly. I tried chatting with her just to be friendly and she shut me down like I was . . .”

  “The usual riffraff?”

  “Don’t test me, sweetie. You know I’ve got dirt on you all the way back to the days when we skipped school and smoked pot on top of Cadillac Mountain.”

  “So that’s it? You just sat next to Stacy Jo at the salon?”

  “Give me some credit, would you, please? I do have a life and career. I wouldn’t be wasting my time running over here if I didn’t have something juicy. Honestly, Hayley. No—after she dissed me she started texting on her BlackBerry like a wild woman. Texting and texting. It was on her lap so I had a clear view, if I craned my neck enough.”

  “I’m surprised Stacy Jo could see anything in her own lap given the size of her ginormous breasts.”

  “Meow.”

  “Just give me one,” Hayley said. “I’m not a big fan of Stacy Jo. So could you tell who she was texting?”

  “Based on what they were saying, I’m guessing it was a girlfriend back in Nashville. Someone she confides in, maybe a sister. It doesn’t matter. It was what she wrote that stood out.”

  “What?”

  “She was talking about Mickey Pritchett.”

  “Okay, that’s not out of the ordinary. We’re all talking about him.”

  “Yeah, but she was really trashing him. Said she was happy he was finally out of her life, he got what he deserved. Stuff like that.”

  “Why did Stacy Jo hate him so much?”

  “From what I could tell, Stacy Jo and Mickey were involved in some kind of relationship that ended badly and I think Mickey was the one who broke it off.”

  Hayley’s mind was reeling. “So what else did she text?”

  “I don’t know. It was about that time she caught me looking and moved to another chair farther away.”

  The front door crashed open again and Bruce stalked inside, carrying his Styrofoam coffee cup. He was in a seriously foul mood.

  “Good morning, Bruce,” Hayley chirped.

  “There’s nothing good about it,” Bruce growled. “Judge just released Jesse DeSoto on bail. Some ridiculously small amount like five hundred bucks. His mother posted it. She probably stole it. They’re all criminals. The whole damn family! I can’t believe this. Now the little punk is free to just resume his stealing and vandalizing. What kind of town is this?”

  Bruce took a sip of his coffee and spit it out. “Burnt again. I hate this town!” And then he stomped in the back toward Sal’s office.

  Liddy turned to Hayley and whispered in a sarcastic tone, “Why on earth isn’t Bruce married already? He’s such a catch.”

  Hayley couldn’t help but smile. “If Mickey broke Stacy Jo’s heart, that’s a clear motive. And she told me she’s always packing, so she had the means.”

  “See? I solved the case,” Liddy said. “I have to go. I have an open house in forty minutes.”

  “Not so fast. She had motive and means. But not opportunity. Stacy Jo didn’t arrive in town on a flight from New York until Sunday night, a full day after the murder. She was taking a shower in Wade’s hotel room yesterday when I brought over his dinner.”

  “What airport? Bar Harbor or Bangor?”

  “She said Bar Harbor.”

  “Well, that doesn’t make any sense. There is no flight from New York to the Bar Harbor Airport on Sunday night. They cancelled it because it was always empty.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Sweetie, with the number of shopping trips I take to New York a year, believe me, I’ve memorized all the flight schedules. And it’s a small airport. When did you see her at the hotel?”

  “Around five-thirty. After I got off work.”

  “There is only one flight into Bar Harbor from New York a day. And it arrives at six o’clock in the evening. It would’ve been impossible for her to arrive on Monday’s flight and be here when you brought Wade’s dinner. And we already know there is no Sunday flight. That means she had to have arrived on Saturday’s flight. When Mickey was still alive.”

  Hayley jumped on the phone and called the airport. She knew they would never divulge Stacy Jo’s flight information, but it was a twenty-minute ride to town from the airport. She would have either had to rent a car or take a taxi. Hayley k
new that Larry Shaw from her brother Randy’s class in high school drove that route in his cab. He met all the flights. Chances were if Stacy Jo took a taxi, he would remember seeing her. After all, she was famous.

  Sure enough. When Hayley got Larry on the line, he confirmed dropping Stacy Jo Stanton off at the Harborside Hotel on Saturday night around 7:15.

  Well before someone shot Mickey and set fire to the tour bus.

  Motive.

  Means.

  Opportunity.

  Chapter 18

  “Have you been spying on me?” Stacy Jo said in a clipped tone, attempting to fold her arms across her chest, but unable to do so in a convincing manner due to her access cleavage.

  “I just find it a bit curious that you lied to me about when you arrived in town,” Hayley said, hands on her hips, bent over and trying to catch her breath.

  She had literally been running all over town trying to track down Stacy Jo.

  When Hayley had called the hotel asking to speak to Stacy Jo, she was put through to Wade’s room where Billy Ray answered.

  She was relieved when Billy Ray told her Wade had insisted Stacy Jo get her own room if she was going to spend time in Bar Harbor and stay for his concerts.

  At least they weren’t cohabitating.

  Billy Ray last saw her going for a run when he returned from an early morning sound check at the Criterion.

  So Hayley took an early lunch, dashed home and threw on some running shorts and a t-shirt, laced up her Reeboks, and took off in search of Stacy Jo.

  She knew Stacy Jo was unfamiliar with the town and wouldn’t know much about the park trails, so chances were she was just doing a loop around the downtown area. Hayley was hoping to find her soon because she was dying from the run. She should have stuck to her plan to use that gym membership.

  Hayley’s instincts paid off. She was just about ready to give up after nearly an hour of jogging up and down the streets of Bar Harbor when she spotted Stacy Jo rounding the town pier just a block away from the Harborside Hotel. Stacy Jo was listening to her iPod, lost in her own thoughts, veering left toward the gift shops that would lead her back around to the hotel.

  Hayley took a sharp turn and intercepted her. Stacy Jo pretended not to see Hayley, but Hayley ran straight at her until she was forced to stop.

  Stacy Jo grimaced and yanked out her earbuds, staring at Hayley.

  That’s when Hayley hit her fast with her accusations.

  How she had proof Stacy Jo lied about her arrival in town.

  How taxi driver Larry Shaw backed up her claims.

  When Hayley finally stopped talking, Stacy Jo took her sweet time responding. “When I got here is none of your damn business,” Stacy Jo said. “Who are you to be stalking me? Don’t you already have your hands full stalking Wade?”

  “Please. I’m not exactly a fan of yours, Stacy Jo. I only own one of your songs, and it happens to be a duet with Wade, and, trust me, it would’ve done better on the country charts if he was singing with Shania.”

  “Oh, no, you didn’t just say that,” Stacy Jo said, flashing her incredibly long talons. “Watch your mouth, or I might just take an eye out.”

  “You don’t scare me, Stacy Jo,” Hayley said.

  Stacy Jo glared at Hayley and then tried to push past her, but Hayley blocked her escape by stepping in front of her.

  “I really think it’s in your best interest to come clean,” Hayley said. “If not to me, it’s going to be to the cops, because they’re going to find out anyway.”

  “Get out of my way,” Stacy Jo barked as she gave Hayley a violent shove.

  Hayley stumbled back and had to catch herself from falling to the ground. This sent a wave of fury surging through her, and she ran up behind Stacy Jo, who was running off, and grabbed her by her pink hoodie and spun her around.

  “What are you doing? You’re a crazy person!” Stacy Jo wailed before slashing her nails across Hayley’s face and drawing a line of blood on her right cheek.

  Then Stacy Jo reared back and swung her leg up in the air to deliver a swift kick to Hayley’s stomach. But Hayley had enough time to step back and grab Stacy Jo’s foot. She yanked it up, and Stacy Jo lost her balance and fell, landing hard on her butt.

  She screamed bloody murder and sprang to her feet and charged Hayley, pummeling her with her fists.

  Hayley felt like she was being attacked by a cougar. And given Stacy Jo was in her forties, that’s exactly what she was.

  Only, in another kind of jungle.

  Stacy Jo was strong, a scrappy girl from a backwater town in the Deep South and she knew how to fight. That much was clear.

  As they scratched and kicked and punched each other, Hayley saw out of the corner of one eye the harbor master calling 911 on his cell.

  Hayley grabbed Stacy Jo by the wrists in an attempt to calm the situation. “Stacy Jo, listen to me. We’re causing a public disturbance and I think we should call a truce because other wise . . .”

  That’s when Stacy Jo head-butted Hayley.

  Hayley felt dizzy and saw those flashes of light like little stars in the sky. When she opened her eyes, she saw Stacy Jo running at her screaming some kind of indecipherable battle cry as if she were in that Mel Gibson movie Braveheart with blue paint on her face and wearing a kilt. Hayley loved that movie. She used to love Mel Gibson. Before all that bad publicity that exposed him as a drunk and a racist and a homophobe.

  Well, at least she still had Mark Harmon.

  Stacy Jo collided with Hayley.

  More scratching.

  More biting.

  More kicking.

  And then they were both falling. Locked in an embrace. Falling into an abyss. No, it wasn’t an abyss.

  It was shivering cold ocean water. Their vicious cat fight had led them right off the town pier.

  Hayley screamed as she surfaced.

  The water was freezing.

  She grabbed at the seaweed tangled in her hair.

  Stacy Jo screamed, too.

  A desperate, frightened wail. “I can’t swim!”

  “Calm down, Stacy Jo,” Hayley said, spitting out the salty water. “Your breasts are the perfect flotation device.”

  Stacy Jo splashed frantically in the water, coughing and sputtering to the point where Hayley felt bad for her and had to swim over and wrap an arm around her neck. She pulled her toward a rope ladder that would enable them to climb back up to the pier.

  It was a good thing she remembered her training from her days working as a lifeguard in the summer. Her official reason for doing it was her innate need to keep visitors to the island safe and happy, but she actually did it to spend the summer with bronzed and blond German exchange student Rolf Hoffman, who was heading up the lifeguard program.

  “Grab the rope, Stacy Jo,” Hayley sputtered, her lips blue and shivering as she guided Stacy Jo’s hand to the thick rope.

  Stacy Jo managed to hoist herself up, carefully navigating the ladder before finally reaching the surface of the pier. Hayley was right behind her, and when she reached the top, her face smashed into Stacy Jo’s butt.

  Could this day get any worse?

  Yes, as it turned out, it could.

  Stacy Jo had stopped suddenly, which was why Hayley was nearly smothered by her ample booty.

  She was staring at the two uniformed police officers waiting for them.

  It was Donnie and Earl.

  “How are you doing today, Hayley?” Earl said, unhooking a pair of handcuffs from his belt.

  “I’m great, Earl. Thanks. Donnie, how’s your mother?”

  “Fine, Hayley,” Donnie said. “Just fine.”

  “Tell her I’m going to send her my pumpkin pie recipe. She’s always asking for it and Thanksgiving is just a couple of short months away.”

  “No, ma’am,” Donnie said. “I’m sure she’ll appreciate it.”

  “If you don’t mind, Hayley, could you please turn around? I’m sure you know the drill by now.” />
  “Yes, Earl, I sure do,” Hayley said as she turned around, facing a distraught Stacy Jo, as Earl snapped the cuffs on her.

  This wasn’t her first time arrested.

  In fact, she was starting to get used to it.

  Donnie went to put handcuffs on Stacy Jo, but she backed away, horrified. “You can’t arrest me! Do you have any idea who I am?”

  “Yes, ma’am, and I’m sorry, but I’m just doing my job,” Donnie said, gently taking her by the arm and turning her around so he could get the cuffs on her. “Even if you were Carrie Underwood, I’d have to arrest you for causing a public disturbance. And I like her music so much better than yours.”

  It was a good thing Donnie had snapped those cuffs on Stacy Jo before he made that remark.

  Otherwise, she would have mauled him like a Maine black bear.

  Donnie and Earl drove the ladies to the station and, after booking them, put them in a cell together. Then they called Chief Alvarez, who at the moment was meeting with Sabrina Merryweather, the county coroner, to discuss her findings regarding Curtis King’s Smith and Wesson.

  Hayley and Stacy Jo were served a hot lunch including a piece of ham, mashed potatoes, buttered carrots, and a dry piece of chocolate cake.

  Not bad for prison food.

  Hayley had recently led a crusade to improve the quality of food served to anyone who might have the unfortunate experience of spending time in the local jail. Sergio had listened and implemented the changes, and Hayley was grateful they had been put into effect before her most recent incarceration.

  Two times in jail in just over a year Not a good track record.

  And this certainly was not going to insure her good standing in the P.T.A.

  Stacy Jo refused to look at Hayley for the first hour they spent in jail together.

  They ate in silence.

  Stacy Jo asked to make a phone call, but was told by Earl she would have to wait until the chief got back. But, not to worry, she would have plenty of time to consult a lawyer before she was called before the judge.

  Stacy Jo went to the opposite side of the cell to be as far away from Hayley as she possibly could. But as time wore on, and after Donnie refused to give her back her iPod so she could block Hayley out with music, she softened a bit.