Death of a Blueberry Tart Page 12

  Liddy turned to Hayley. “I don’t know, it kind of sounds like my mother too.”

  “Well, it certainly wasn’t mine!” Mona said confidently. “My mother raised us kids on carbs. The extra layer of fat kept us warmer in the winter when our parents couldn’t pay the heating bill!”

  “Try to keep your mothers out of trouble from here on in,” Sergio said before crossing over to the young English couple and escorting them to his office to deal with their stolen laptop.

  After a few more minutes, Earl, who was still in full-blown sourpuss mode, brought Sheila, Celeste, and Jane out from the jail cells to be reunited with their daughters. Jane was rummaging through her large shoulder bag, which had just been returned to her. “I swear there is some change missing! These cops, they’re all on the take!”

  Celeste collapsed into Liddy’s arms. “It was awful, Liddy. All they served us was a ham sandwich and a lousy pickle for dinner. The bread was soggy and the pickle tasted funny. Can a pickle go bad if it’s not refrigerated?”

  “I don’t know, Mother. Did you eat the whole thing?” Liddy exclaimed.

  “Of course I did. I didn’t know how long we were going to be stuck in there. I had to keep up my strength!”

  Hayley went to hug Sheila, who gave her a brief squeeze and a light pat on the back. Hayley found it odd that her mother wasn’t as talkative as her fellow jailbirds. “Is everything okay, Mom?”

  “Yes,” Sheila said. “I’m just tired.”

  Hayley’s phone buzzed and she checked the screen. “Bruce just texted. He’s on the way with sandwiches.”

  Celeste groaned. “Sandwiches? I can’t eat another sandwich. I’m going to need something more substantial. Donate mine to a food shelter, would you, please? Come on, Liddy, Havana is open until nine. If we hurry, we can make it before the kitchen closes.”

  Havana was one of the pricier restaurants in town, but Celeste could afford it every night if she chose to dine there.

  “Just don’t mention to anyone I was in the hoosegow. I have a reputation to maintain,” Celeste said as she glided out the door.

  Liddy turned to Hayley. “I’ll call you later.”

  Hayley nodded and Liddy chased after her mother.

  Mona put an arm around Jane. “Come on, Mom. I’m taking you home.”

  Jane scoffed. “Wait, didn’t you hear Hayley? Bruce is on his way with some food. I couldn’t eat that slop they served in jail. I’m starving.”

  “I’ll make you something at home. Now let’s go. I have hungry kids waiting to be fed! I’m sure Dennis just threw a bag of chips at them and went back to watching the Red Sox on TV.”

  Mona dragged Jane out the door, leaving Hayley alone with Sheila.

  Hayley glanced at her mother. “You’re awfully quiet.”

  “Just thinking . . .”

  “About what?”

  Sheila opened her mouth to speak but decided against telling Hayley what was on her mind. “Nothing.”

  “You’re acting weird.”

  “I was in jail, dear. It can change a person.”

  “You were in jail for less than an hour, Mom. Now Sergio wanted me to make sure your days of playing police detective are officially over. Can I promise him that you won’t be doing that anymore?”

  Sheila bristled, insulted that the roles were suddenly reversed and Hayley was treating her like a misbehaving child.

  “Mom?”

  “Yes, Hayley,” Sheila said, sighing.

  “Okay . . . is there something you’re not telling me?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t know. I get the feeling you know more than you’re letting on and it’s worrying me.”

  Sheila was obviously struggling inside, wrestling with something, perhaps not wanting to lie to her daughter, but then she closed her eyes and said emphatically, “Don’t be worried. I told you everything I know.”

  “Good,” Hayley said. “Bruce just pulled up. Let’s go home.”

  She led her mother out the door, but she was not at all assuaged by her mother’s claim that all was fine. Because if there was one person in the world she knew, it was her mother. And ever since she was a little girl, Hayley always noticed that if her mother closed her eyes when she spoke, that clearly meant she was lying. If she blinked a few times, it was just a fib. But if she kept her eyes squeezed shut for more than a few seconds, it was a big ole whopping lie. And as Sheila walked down the stone steps of the police station to Bruce’s waiting car, Hayley had to catch her, because her eyes were still closed.

  She was definitely, unequivocally lying.

  Chapter 22

  Sheila spent the rest of her night as a free woman somewhat subdued at the house. She watched some television with Bruce and then excused herself and went up to Gemma’s room to go to bed.

  Hayley knew there was something on her mother’s mind and she found it frustrating that Sheila was purposely not sharing her thoughts. She also did not expect her mother to keep her promise and stop investigating in order to clear her name, and so the following afternoon, instead of doing laundry, which was Hayley’s weekly tradition on a Saturday, she followed her mother, who had borrowed Bruce’s car to take Celeste and Jane to the Jordan Pond House for tea and popovers.

  The Jordan Pond House, the only full-service restaurant within Acadia National Park, has been around for over a hundred years, offering a unique experience of tea and popovers outside on the lawn with breathtaking views of its namesake pond and the North- and South Bubble Mountains. A fire destroyed the original restaurant in 1979, but private funds rebuilt the two-story structure that still stands today with an observation deck and gift shop. Tourists from around the world flock to the site every season and the restaurant has become more popular than ever. Sheila always made a point of going at least once during every visit, as she couldn’t resist the fluffy, fresh-from-the-oven popovers slathered in butter and strawberry jam.

  Hayley followed them in her Kia, remaining a safe distance behind them. She half expected them to turn off before they hit the Park Loop Road, which led to the restaurant, but they stayed on course, parking the car in the lot and heading inside. Hayley found a parking spot a few rows away, and then hurried across the lot, hovering just outside until she saw the hostess lead the three women out to a table on the lawn.

  Hayley donned her sunglasses and then ducked into the gift shop and bought an Acadia National Park baseball cap. She stuffed her hair up inside the cap and then wandered back to the hostess station, where a young college-age girl greeted her with a bright smile. “Do you have a reservation?”

  “No, sorry, do you have a table for one? I’d really like to sit outside.”

  Worry lines appeared on the girl’s forehead. “Let me check.”

  She disappeared for two minutes and then returned, waving Hayley forward. “You’re in luck. We do have a table on the lawn.”

  It was still early and a lot of the tables were empty. Hayley instantly spotted Sheila, Celeste, and Jane at a table nearest the pond. They had just sat down and were perusing their menus. The hostess escorted Hayley to a small table for two about fifty feet away, far out of earshot.

  “Could I get a table closer to the water?” Hayley asked.

  The worry lines returned and the hostess frowned. “A lot of our tables are already reserved . . .”

  Hayley pointed to a small rickety table right behind her mother’s. “What about that one?”

  The hostess checked her watch. “I’m afraid that one’s reserved for noon.”

  “I’ll eat really fast.”

  “But it’s already eleven thirty. You may not have time for your second popover . . .”

  “I promise I’ll be gone by the time they get here. If I’m not done by noon, I’ll take it to go.”

  The hostess was not sure if she should relent, especially since she looked as if she thought Hayley might be some kind of a crazy person, but her training had prepared her for how to handle such s
ituations. “As long as you agree to leave by—”

  Hayley snatched the menu out of the startled hostess’s hand. “Thanks! I can show myself there!”

  Hayley bounded down the lawn toward the table. Her mother and Celeste were seated with their backs to her, but Jane was on the other side facing her. Still, Jane didn’t even bother to look in her direction as she approached them and sat down at the smaller table behind them, making sure her back was to them.

  Hayley picked up the menu and held it up in front of her face as she eavesdropped on their conversation.

  “Why couldn’t we talk about the case on the car ride over here?” Celeste asked.

  “Because we were in Bruce’s car and he’s an investigative reporter, and with all the technology they have today, the whole thing could be wired, and I didn’t want him listening to us through the radio or something!” Sheila exclaimed.

  “He can do that?” Jane asked.

  “People can do anything these days, Jane,” Sheila warned. “The government could be taping our conversation through your phone right now! There could be a spy posted at a nearby table listening to our every word!”

  Hayley sunk down in her seat as far as she could.

  “Okay, so why didn’t you tell Chief Alvarez what we found?” Celeste asked. “If he knew what we know, he might focus more on Owen as a suspect.”

  Hayley’s ears perked up.

  What did they know?

  “Because it’s not proof of anything. I can’t just go to him and say, ‘I found two dozen boxes of store-bought blueberry pies in Owen Meyers’s freezer!’ He needs more than that to make an arrest,” Sheila cried.

  “I’m still confused. What do a bunch of frozen pies in his freezer have to do with Owen strangling Caskie?” Jane asked.

  Hayley leaned back in her chair because she was dying to know as well.

  “We’ve been over this, Jane. Owen Meyers has boasted for years that he serves only fresh homemade blueberry pies at his restaurant, just like he buys live lobsters from Mona for his fresh lobster rolls. That’s a big reason his business is so successful. Locals and tourists alike want to eat there because everything is made from scratch and from the freshest ingredients. But what if word got out that he was serving frozen store-bought blueberry pies? Well, you can imagine the negative Yelp reviews that would pile up! Suddenly The Shack wouldn’t be so special and it could seriously hurt his business—who knows, maybe kill it altogether.”

  “What does any of that have to do with Caskie?” Jane asked, frustrated that she was still not quite grasping the situation.

  “I have a theory, it’s just a theory mind you, but it makes sense,” Sheila said confidently. “Owen has already admitted that Caskie was price-gouging him for her fresh blueberries, doubling the cost. So Owen decided it was too much and kicked her to the curb. But it’s the height of the tourist season. He needed pies for his customers, so what if he went out and stocked up on store-bought blueberry pies and hid them in his freezer? He could save money, make an even bigger profit, and nobody would be the wiser. Unless someone found out, someone like Caskie . . .”

  Celeste gasped. “So Caskie somehow discovered what he was up to, maybe she saw the pies in the freezer like we did, or tasted one and could tell the difference right away, and then she confronted him!”

  Sheila jumped in. “Exactly! He could not risk her exposing him. It might cost him his business so he took matters into his own hands!”

  “By wrapping them around Caskie’s throat!” Jane yelled, finally getting it.

  There was a brief pause as the women considered their next move.

  Celeste spoke first. “I think we should at least let Chief Alvarez know our theory.”

  “Not until we gather more evidence,” Sheila said.

  “But didn’t you promise Hayley we’d stay out of it?” Jane asked.

  “I also promised Hayley that Santa Claus was real until she was seven years old. A mother does what she has to do.”

  “Hey, Mrs. Powell, remember me? I’m Kevin Vassey, I went to school with your daughter Gemma!”

  Hayley’s heart skipped a beat.

  She looked up at a tall, lanky blond kid in his early twenties, in a blue polo shirt and khaki shorts, which all the servers were wearing, as he stood at her table with his hands clasped behind his back, a big welcoming grin on his face.

  Hayley leaned over toward him and whispered, “Yes, hi, Kevin . . .”

  “I hear through the grapevine that Gemma is studying in New York to be a master chef. Wow, that is so impressive. You must be so proud!” Kevin seemed to blare at the top of his lungs for everyone to hear.

  Hayley nodded and whispered, “Yes, yes, I am . . .”

  Another voice entered the conversation. “I am proud of her too.”

  Kevin looked at the next table, a puzzled look on his face. “And you are . . . ?”

  “Gemma’s grandmother! Hayley’s mother!”

  There was no hiding anymore. Hayley slowly turned to find Sheila, Celeste, and Jane all well aware of her presence. Kevin was still oblivious to the drama he had just stirred up. He looked back and forth, confused. “Would you like to sit with your mother and her friends? There is plenty of room at their table.”

  “No, I don’t think I’ll be staying . . .” Hayley moaned. “I’ll just take the check, please.”

  “You didn’t order anything . . .” Kevin reminded her.

  Hayley stood up, hoping to make a hasty exit. “I’m suddenly not hungry. Thank you. I’ll be sure to say hi to Gemma for you.”

  “That would be great,” Kevin said before turning to Sheila, Celeste, and Jane. “Ladies, I’ll be right back to take your order.”

  He scooted off.

  Hayley slowly turned to face her mother, who said to Celeste and Jane pointedly, “See? Spies everywhere.”

  “I knew you were keeping something from me and so I figured I might find out what it was if I followed you—”

  “Hayley, how could you?” Sheila cried.

  “You would have done the same thing!” Hayley said, pointing a finger at her. “And I was right, wasn’t I?”

  “That’s not the point!” Sheila snapped.

  “Yes, it is. I’m just trying to keep the three of you from going to jail again! You should have told Sergio right away what you saw in Owen’s freezer!”

  “Would you have?” Sheila asked with a raised eyebrow.

  Hayley folded her arms. “What do you mean?”

  “I’m just curious. If you had seen those frozen pies in the freezer, would you have gone running to Sergio and risk him laughing you out of his office, or would you have dug a little deeper until you uncovered more concrete evidence?”

  Hayley wavered, not sure how to answer. “I don’t know . . .”

  “Yes, you do. You would have done the same thing!”

  “Okay, fine, but this needs to stop! You were arrested!”

  “Yes, once. How many times have you been arrested?”

  Checkmate.

  Hayley’s curiosity and zest for investigating crimes had led to her incarceration two times.

  Maybe it was three.

  She had been playing detective for a while now.

  But she was not going to allow her mother to win this one.

  “We’re not talking about me!”

  That was the best she could do in the moment.

  Kevin returned with his big grin. “Ladies, may I—”

  “We’re not ready yet!” Jane snapped.

  Kevin quickly retreated.

  Hayley bowed her head and muttered, “I just really want you three to stay out of trouble.”

  “Fine,” Sheila said. “If you are so hell-bent on us not defending ourselves and letting the whole town believe we’re evil witches who teamed up to get rid of our sworn enemy Caskie, then maybe you should stop sneaking around and following us and put your energies into something more useful! Like finding out who really did kill Caskie!”
>
  Her mother was right.

  The only way she was ever going to get her mother to stop trying to solve Caskie’s murder was for her to solve it herself.

  And she had to do it fast, before the groundswell of suspicion around Sheila, Celeste, and Jane reached an unmanageable fever pitch.

  Chapter 23

  The Shop ’n Save was nearly empty when Hayley showed up the next morning, promptly at seven when the doors opened. Usually around this time she was slamming the palm of her hand down on her clock on top of the nightstand next to her bed to stop the annoying, piercing alarm trying to rouse her from underneath her plush white goose-down comforter and force her to drag her lazy butt into the shower. But not today. Today she was on a mission and had showered well before six in order to be at the grocery store at the same time as Owen Meyers. It was no secret in town that Owen was up early every morning to shop for the ingredients he needed when he opened The Shack promptly at eleven for the lunch crowd. Depending on what special he scribbled on the chalkboard he set up outside the front door to lure in the locals and tourists, Owen was laser-focused on every last detail, whether it was dried thyme for his lentil soup or fresh celery for his lobster rolls. Whatever it was he needed to pick up at the Shop ’n Save, like the fire department blowing the noon whistle, you could always count on seeing Owen rolling his cart up and down the aisles just after the break of dawn, like clockwork, at the start of each day.

  Hayley had only managed to down her first cup of coffee as she shot out the door in order to get to the store by the time they unlocked the doors, so her brain was still a bit fuzzy. She grabbed a cart and paraded up and down the aisles in search of Owen. She knew she was acting suspicious, mostly due to the fact that none of the Shop ’n Save employees had ever laid eyes on her in the store before eleven. A couple of stock boys gave her surprised looks as she raced past them and mumbled, “Good morning.”

  Rounding the corner into aisle six, which housed baking needs like flour, sugar, and chocolate, Hayley came to a screeching halt at the sight of Owen at the spice section, perusing two different brands of Cajun seasoning, debating with himself on which one he should buy. Hayley stood frozen in the middle of the aisle, waiting to be noticed. Finally, when it became clear to Owen he wasn’t alone, he glanced up and scowled at the sight of Hayley.