Death of a Coupon Clipper (21 page)

On her way home from Mrs. Tubbs’s house, Hayley called Randy’s cell. He picked up
on the first ring.

“Hey, sis,” Randy said, his mouth full as he chewed something.

“Where are you?”

“At home eating your chicken-and-stuffing casserole. I’m not even using a plate. I’m
just eating right out of the baking dish. I hope you weren’t planning on having it
for your dinner.”

“No, help yourself.”

“Good, because I just finished it off and I’m still hungry and dying for a pizza or
anything with a crust or breaded. Why did our whole family have to inherit an obsessive
need to inhale carbs?”

“It’s our family curse. I’m on my way home. I should be there in about ten minutes.”

“You want me to come pick you up?”

“No, I can walk. Besides, with how much it’s been snowing the last few hours, you
may not be able to get your car out of the driveway.”

“It’s no problem. . . .” Randy’s voice trailed off.

“Randy? Hello? Are you still there?”

“Yeah, I’m here. I think someone just pulled into the driveway.”

“Who is it?”

“I don’t know. I don’t recognize the car. I’m hanging up now to go see who it is.
See you when you get here.”

“Randy . . .”

Hayley couldn’t understand why her stomach was churning and this overwhelming sense
of dread was washing over her. She was never a big believer in women’s intuition.
It struck her as decidedly sexist. But she could not ignore the sick feeling she was
experiencing at the moment. She picked up her pace, power walking fast, at first,
and then jogging slowly before breaking out into a run. She nearly slipped on the
icy sidewalk twice, but she managed to keep her balance before rounding the corner
to see the house lit up and Randy’s car parked in the driveway. She noticed a double
set of tire tracks in the fresh snow and surmised it was one vehicle coming and going.
Whoever had arrived at the house ten minutes ago when Hayley called her brother had
clearly already left.

She mounted the porch steps and reached into her pants pocket to retrieve her key,
when she suddenly noticed that the front door was wide open. She cautiously entered
and looked around. Instantly she saw one of the dining-room chairs tipped over.

That was odd.

“Randy?”

She heard a faint scratching.

She moved a little farther inside the house and the scratching got louder.

Then she picked up a soft whimpering.

Leroy.

She followed the sound of the persistent scratching to the downstairs coat closet
and swung open the door.

Leroy scurried out, with a frantic look in his eyes.

Hayley bent down and scooped him up in her arms and held him tightly to her chest.
“Hey, there, boy, where’s Uncle Randy?”

Leroy licked her face a dozen times; his tiny little body was shaking.

Blueberry was gone at last. So, why was Leroy so upset?

Unless Randy’s visitor spooked him.

The sick feeling in her stomach only got stronger.

She carried Leroy into the kitchen.

The empty casserole dish Randy was eating out of when she called had fallen to the
floor and was smashed to pieces.

She hugged Leroy more tightly.

What the hell happened here?

Suddenly there was a high-pitched screaming and Hayley jumped, yelping in surprise.
She nearly dropped Leroy, but he clung to her winter coat, not about to let go.

They were both scared.

Hayley spun around in the direction where the screaming was coming from.

It wasn’t screaming.

It was whistling from a teakettle. Steam shot out of the spout. The burner was jacked
up too high and was fiery red.

Hayley crossed to the stove and shut off the burner underneath the teapot and the
whistling faded.

Randy was making himself a cup of tea, but he didn’t stick around long enough to drink
it. She looked down at the floor and saw a box of Earl Grey tea crushed as if someone
had stomped on it.

Tea bags were strewn across the floor.

Randy’s favorite
The Golden Girls
mug was on its side in the corner.

Cracked in half.

Hayley didn’t want to admit it to herself, but she had no choice.

It looked to her as if some kind of struggle had taken place.

She glanced out the window.

The snow was coming down harder than she could ever remember.

She was going to be stuck in this house all night. At least until Lex could come by
in the morning with his plow truck.

Hayley had no idea what had just happened to her brother.

Or where he had been taken.

Hayley tried Randy’s cell phone three more times, and each time she got his voicemail.

She was worried and was feeling really alone and isolated now.

Part of her wanted to start scouring the town looking for him, but she knew that would
just be a waste of time. Snow was blanketing the entire island, making it treacherous
to drive and impossible to walk.

She wasn’t going anywhere, and she knew it.

She kept trying to convince herself that she was blowing this out of proportion, but
then she would glance at the tipped-over dining-room chair,
The Golden Girls
mug lying, cracked, in the corner, and the unattended teakettle.

Those clues clearly told her she wasn’t blowing anything out of proportion.

Something disturbing had happened here.

And she started panicking all over again.

Her first thought was to call the police, but that would entail Officer Donnie spearheading
the search. In Hayley’s mind this would be a colossal waste of time. Clark Hollingsworth’s
name kept creeping into her mind.

Hayley fed Leroy and went back into the living room, sat down on the couch, and flipped
open her laptop. She googled the name Clark Hollingsworth and started reading various
articles, hoping to find some kind of clue that would indicate what kind of dirt Candace
might have had on him.

Based on the material coming up in her search, it became obvious Clark was the kind
of man who refused to just live off his family name and indulge in the typical hedonistic
lifestyle of a spoiled heir. No, Clark Hollingsworth was trying to make a difference
in the world: building toilets in Africa, working in an orphanage in Haiti. Fighting
poverty was a passion in his life. It was a noble pursuit, and it didn’t jibe one
bit with the Clark Hollingsworth who had arrived in town after Edgar fell ill.

Hayley did a quick search for images of Clark Hollingsworth. But the only ones that
came up were family photos from his childhood, surrounded by his cousins at a Hollingsworth
family picnic on the island, which was covered by the local press. She instantly recognized
the cherubic face she went to camp with that one summer.

But why were there no recent photos available?

She kept clicking, bringing up more articles, reading about more philanthropic deeds
Clark had done all over the world. There was one photo that caught him, standing outside
a new orphanage he had just helped build, surrounded by twenty beautiful, smiling
Haitian children. He stood in the back, his face in the shadows, being very careful
not to be seen.

Hayley leaned in for a closer look. He was about the right height as the Clark she
now knew. Same build. The shape of the head hidden in the shadows was similar. But
what was troubling was she just couldn’t get her mind around this much beloved do-gooder
being the same Clark Hollingsworth as the petty, secretive, coupon-clipping Clark
Hollingsworth she had been dealing with the past couple of weeks.

Hayley went on to read about how press shy Clark was, how he didn’t want his family
name overshadowing the plight of the poverty-stricken he was working so hard for,
how unseemly it was for anyone to make the story about him.

This was a good, kindhearted, spiritual man.

And there was no way this was the same Clark Hollingsworth as the one taking the reins
at his uncle’s estate and making Lex’s life miserable.

Hayley had a gut feeling.

She kept researching.

Skimming more articles.

Desperate to find one clue that would back up the theory that was now taking hold
in her mind.

And then she found it.

A tiny article from three weeks ago in a small Port-au-Prince newspaper. Clark Hollingsworth
was hospitalized after experiencing a potentially life-threatening anaphylactic shock
in response to an ingestion of peanuts. One of the orphans he was caring for brought
him a chocolate bar and Clark didn’t realize it was loaded with the nut, which he
had been severely allergic to ever since he was a boy.

Hayley’s blood ran cold.

Peanuts.

The Clark in Bar Harbor had bought peanuts at the Shop ’n Save.

Hayley had even given him a coupon so he could get a discount.

It wasn’t the kind of evidence that would hold up in court.

But it was enough for her finally to be sure that the man who showed up at the Hollingsworth
estate claiming to be Clark Hollingsworth was a big, fat fake. A con man who probably
read about Edgar’s medical condition and showed up posing as his nephew in order to
pilfer as much as he could from the endless piles of Hollingsworth money.

He must have known Edgar was in a coma. And given how averse the real Clark was to
photos and publicity, the locals just might buy his story.

And they did.

Hayley included.

Then there was the matter of Candace Culpepper.

When she wasn’t at the hospital, she was working as a nurse tending to Edgar. She
had access to his personal belongings. Maybe she saw a family photo of the real Clark
Hollingsworth. So when the fake Clark showed up, she might have seen right through
his insidious plot and threatened to expose him. He could not have her blowing his
cover, so he had to get rid of her.

The only hitch in Hayley’s mind was his alibi.

According to the entire staff at the Porter House, Clark was in plain view, shoveling
down a steak and chugging a whole bottle of red wine at the time of the murder. Sabrina
was adamant that Candace had died instantly, around nine o’clock, when one of the
stab wounds punctured her lung. That meant Clark could not have committed the murder.

Suddenly the lights in the entire house went out and Hayley was plunged into darkness,
except for the glow from her computer screen. But because of a low battery, she was
about to lose that too. She used the few moments of light she had left from the computer
to maneuver her way into the kitchen, where she found a candle and some matches in
the pantry. She lit one just as her computer shut down and the screen went black.

She picked up the flickering candle and looked out the kitchen window. Complete darkness.
Definitely a citywide blackout due to the snowstorm.

Hayley heard a noise.

Like someone jiggling a doorknob, trying to get inside the house.

Then she heard a loud
bang.

Someone was using his shoulder to force open the front door.

Leroy jumped away from his food bowl and skidded out of the kitchen toward the front
door, barking.

She held her breath.

Hayley used the candle to search the pantry for some kind of weapon. Canned fruits
and vegetables just weren’t going to cut it. She hadn’t played softball since high
school, so her throwing arm was rusty.

She held the candle up and searched the kitchen, spotting a knife block on the kitchen
counter next to the stove. She rushed over and withdrew the largest knife she could
find.

A butcher knife.

She gripped the handle and blew out the candle.

Leroy’s barking was getting more frantic by the second.

Then she slowly walked out of the kitchen, back into the living room.

Another
bang
against the front door caused Leroy to go crazy and run in circles and bark as loudly
as he could.

Hayley raised the knife, cleared her throat, and then yelled, “Who is it? Who’s there?”

No answer.

Just more pounding.

Hayley moved a step closer and spoke more loudly. “I said who’s there?”

“It’s me. Open the door.”

It was a man’s voice.

One she knew well.

Hayley took a deep breath, stepped forward, and opened the door to find Lex Bansfield
standing on the porch.

And he was stinking drunk.

Even more so than Cassidy Culpepper on the night she nearly ran Hayley down with her
rental car.

“Lex, what are you doing out on a night like this?”

“I quit today, Hayley. I couldn’t take it anymore, so I quit,” Lex slurred, gripping
the door to keep from falling over.

“Come in here before you freeze to death,” Hayley said, pulling him inside.

“I finally told that bastard what I thought of him. Said he was a mean son of a bitch
and I wasn’t going to take orders from him anymore. And neither were my men, so we
all walked.”

“When did this happen?”

“This afternoon . . . right before happy hour . . . lucky coincidence. . . . Me and
the guys have been celebrating our freedom at Drinks Like A Fish . . . since four
this afternoon. . . .”

“So you haven’t seen Clark since you told him you were quitting? And that was around
four this afternoon?”

“Yup . . . your brother have any whiskey on hand?” Lex took a step toward the kitchen,
but then he stopped and steadied himself. “Whoa. Is it me or is the room spinning?”

Lex stumbled to the right, tripping over the upended dining-room chair and falling
flat on his face.

Hayley rushed over and knelt down. “Lex, are you all right?”

She checked his skull for bleeding.

He started snoring.

It was so loud that Leroy quietly backed away, as if trying to steer clear of some
kind of monster.

Lex would be fine.

But at this point she wasn’t so sure about her brother, Randy.

She tried his cell phone one more time.

Voicemail.

She had to do something.

If only she knew what.