Death of a Coupon Clipper (9 page)

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Authors: Lee Hollis

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Chapter 15
Steffie Blackburn’s jaw nearly hit the hardwood floor when she spotted Hayley walking
into her small, low-lit yoga studio, which was located on the second floor of some
retail space in the middle of town. Most of the shops were closed up for the winter,
but Steffie had enough clients to continue her various yoga and meditation classes
year-round, except for the month of April, when she traveled to Arizona to visit her
parents in Scottsdale.
Hayley shed her coat and hung it on a wooden rack. She was in a roomy t-shirt and
sweats and stood out among the five other much thinner women in mesh tank tops and
wrap-waist yoga pants that accentuated every curve of their lean bodies. They were
drinking bottled water and gossiping as they laid out their mats and set down their
towels. Hayley realized she had come totally unprepared.
Steffie made a beeline for Hayley, still in somewhat of a state of shock. “Hayley,
what are you doing here? How can I help you?”
“I’ve come to take your restorative yoga class,” Hayley said, smiling.
Steffie’s jaw hit the floor again.
Hayley fished in the pocket of her sweatpants and pulled out a crinkled ten-dollar
bill and handed it to Steffie. “Ten dollars, right? That’s what it said online.”
“You actually went to my website and looked it up? Is this some kind of joke?”
“I know it’s been a while since I’ve come to your class, and I’m aware that the last
time didn’t go so well.”
“It was a disaster,” Steffie said, nodding.
“Well, I don’t know if I’d go that far,” Hayley said defensively.
“Hayley, you couldn’t hold a simple warrior pose and fell into Kim Lankford, who was
next to you, who then fell into Liz Beard, who then fell into Sue Farley, who sprained
her ankle and had to be taken to the hospital.”
“Okay, maybe your choice of words actually does describe the last time I took your
class. But I’m not one to give up. I’m here to try again.”
“It took you three years to come to this decision to try again?”
“Yes. I’ve always been a late bloomer and, well, I’ve put on a few pounds this winter,
I’m sure you understand,” Hayley said, glancing at Steffie’s perfect body. “Or maybe
you don’t. Anyway, I’ve decided it’s time for me to get serious and get back into
shape, and I know your class does wonders for Liddy. She’s always singing your praises
and telling me how much she loves how you teach.”
“Liddy hasn’t been to my class in almost two years.”
“Maybe it wasn’t Liddy,” Hayley said quickly.
Hayley knew she couldn’t say it was Mona. Mona wouldn’t be caught dead doing a downward-dog
pose. The only exercise she got was lifting a beer mug, and only when she wasn’t pregnant.
“But the point is, I’m here, Steffie, and I’m ready to get to work,” Hayley said.
“Well, if you’re sure you really want to do this,” Steffie said, more than a hint
of reluctance in her voice.
“Yes, I’m ready.”
“Did you bring a mat?”
“No.”
“Water?”
“No.”
“A towel?”
“No.”
“Okay, well, next time I suggest you bring all of those things. But just for today,
I’ll provide you with everything you need.”
“Thanks, Stef. Appreciate it,” Hayley said, knowing full well she was never, ever
going to be coming back to the class after this day.
She was on a mission.
She was here to talk to one of Steffie’s regulars, but Sabrina Merryweather, the county
coroner and Hayley’s former high-school rival and resident mean girl, hadn’t shown
up yet. If she didn’t, then there was no way Hayley was going to stick around and
torture herself by twisting her body into all kinds of unnatural positions.
Steffie eyed Hayley suspiciously, not entirely convinced her motives for being here
were pure, but she padded over to the other side of the room to fetch a mat and towel
and some bottled water.
Hayley checked the clock.
Two minutes past eleven.
She knew Sabrina went to morning church services at nine-thirty and then usually drove
right over to the class. She should have been here by now.
Steffie returned, handing Hayley her yoga essentials. “Why don’t you come up front
near me, Hayley, so I can work closely with you and make sure you don’t fall again.
I don’t want to be liable again for any injuries.”
Hayley nodded and followed Steffie past the other women, who were now on their mats
and stretching and contorting their perfect bodies into various pretzel shapes in
order to loosen up before the class began.
Near the front of the room, as instructed, Hayley rolled out the sticky, stained purple
mat, which Steffie had given her, and then took a swig of her water, ready to plan
a quick escape if Sabrina was a no-show. Suddenly the door to the yoga studio flew
open and Sabrina breezed in. Her blond hair was in a ponytail; a wide smile was on
her face.
“Morning, everybody, sorry I’m late. The reverend went a little long today, talking
about his trip to Nigeria building toilets for poor people. I was like, ‘Yuck, wrap
it up, Rev. Why not just write a check?’ Am I right, people?”
A couple of the women giggled.
The others just looked at Sabrina, horrified.
Although she was a respected county coroner and took her work seriously, Sabrina was
still as shallow and as stuck-up as she had been in high school. Sabrina had conveniently
forgotten how mean she had been to Hayley when they were teenagers and now considered
her to be one of her besties. Hayley played along because she never knew when Sabrina’s
expertise, when it came to autopsies, might come in handy.
Like today.
Hayley raised her hand to wave Sabrina over, but she wasn’t fast enough. Sue Farley
had already made room next to herself for Sabrina’s mat. They were chatting amiably
and Sabrina hadn’t even spotted Hayley yet.
Meanwhile, Steffie was dimming the lights even further to the point where Hayley couldn’t
see anything. Steffie then plugged her iPod into a speaker and started playing soothing,
soft music about grace and gratitude, and then turned the heat up so high Hayley began
sweating even before she could get into her first pose.
“Let’s get into position, ladies,” Steffie said, assuming the lotus position.
The other women followed suit. Hayley had to use her hands to get her right leg over
her left; then she had to wipe the sweat off her forehead.
This was not starting well.
“Everyone, close your eyes and let’s take this opportunity to release the tensions
of our lives and be present and centered and grateful for this opportunity to restore
our body and our mind and to be strong and clear.”
Hayley cranked her head around to get a look at Sabrina.
Damn.
She had her eyes closed.
Leave it to kiss-ass Sabrina to follow the teacher’s instructions to the letter.
Hayley cleared her throat.
Sabrina didn’t hear her or was ignoring her.
However, Sue Farley popped one eye open, noticing Hayley for the first time. Her face
was suddenly full of concern. Or was it outright fear? She was probably afraid of
spraining her ankle again. Hayley signaled Sue to get Sabrina’s attention. Sue looked
at Sabrina and then at Hayley, who was now sighing loudly out of frustration and pointing
at Sabrina. Sue finally got the message and nudged Sabrina, who eventually opened
her eyes.
“Omigod, Hayley, I didn’t even see you here. How are you doing, girlfriend?” Sabrina
asked, her voice raised as she talked over the soothing music.
“Ladies, please, class has begun,” Steffie said, trying hard not to throw a hissy
fit.
It was important for a yoga instructor to remain calm and collected.
Hayley stood up and picked up her mat and towel. “I’m just going to move next to Sabrina.”
Before Steffie could protest, Hayley was scurrying over to Sabrina, her mat slapping
Sue in the head as she stepped over her. Sue was forced to move her own mat a few
feet to make room for Hayley as Steffie just glared at her, not sure how to handle
this rude disruption of her peaceful and restorative class.
Once Hayley settled in, Sabrina reached over and gave her a quick hug. “It’s so good
to see you. We don’t hang out enough.”
“I was hoping we could talk for a bit after class,” Hayley whispered, keeping one
eye on Steffie, who was close to ejecting her from the class.
“Sorry, my deadbeat husband has an art show at the library. Like selling one of his
crap paintings to his eighty-year-old aunt is going to pay for our two-week trip to
Fiji next month. But I’m not bitter about being the sole breadwinner in the family.”
Steffie started chanting.
Really loud.
To make a point.
And that was for the two of them to shut up.
Sabrina closed her eyes and readjusted her position and joined in the chanting. “Ommm
. . .”
Hayley opened her mouth to ask Sabrina a few questions about Candace Culpepper’s autopsy,
but she noticed Steffie staring at her, stone-faced, just waiting for any excuse to
kick her out. Hayley knew she couldn’t take that chance. She had to get information
out of Sabrina in the next forty-five minutes. Once Sabrina was at the art show berating
her husband, there would be no talking to her.
Hayley tried her best to keep up with the other women as they held various yoga positions.
Some were so torturous and painful, she felt like an insurgent at an Iraqi prison
during the Bush administration.
Steffie hovered over her the entire time, helping her adjust her position, taking
extreme pleasure in the shooting pain that Hayley endured as she twisted her legs,
arms, and head in all different directions.
In fact, Steffie could barely contain her glee. And with Steffie on top of her the
entire time, there was zero opportunity for Hayley to speak with Sabrina.
Until the final minutes of the class, when all the hard work was done and it was time
for everyone to stretch out on their backs and enjoy five minutes of meditation.
This was her chance.
Hayley turned her head in Sabrina’s direction and talked in a low whisper. “Sabrina,
I know you’re not supposed to talk about anything related to an open murder case because
you’re a professional, but I was just wondering—”
“Candace was stabbed three times. Twice in the back. And once in the chest. She could’ve
survived the two in the back, but the one in the chest punctured her lung, killing
her almost instantly,” Sabrina said in a normal voice.
Sabrina was a professional all right.
A professional gossip.
The entire class was riveted to her story.
“I’m guessing the killer came up behind her and stabbed her once in the back,” Sabrina
said, sitting up from her prone position and reenacting the murder for Hayley, as
well as the rest of the class, all of whom could no longer pretend they were meditating.
“Candace then spun around in surprise and was suddenly face-to-face with her attacker.
That’s when the killer stabbed her again in the chest. Candace probably had time to
turn back around and try and run away and that’s when the killer stabbed her in the
back once more, leaving the scissors lodged there as Candace fell face-first to the
ground and died.”
So much for peaceful meditation.
None of the women in the room would ever be able to clear their minds and meditate
after that grotesque, violent image Sabrina had just planted in all their heads.
Steffie sat up, ready to explode.
Hayley quickly closed her eyes and pretended to be deep into her own meditation. After
a few moments she opened her eyes and saw Steffie turning up the music, hoping to
drown out the troublemakers.
“So, do you know the exact time of death?” Hayley whispered urgently.
“Of course I do, honey, because I’m damn good at my job. Based on the body’s decomposition,
I would put the time of death around nine o’clock.”
Sue Farley couldn’t take it anymore. She stood up and wiped her face with her towel
and quickly rolled up her mat. “This is not appropriate conversation for a Sunday.
I am out of here.”
Sue stomped off, her hand covering her mouth as if she was going to be sick.
Hayley had gotten exactly what she came for.
An estimated time of death.
That meant she could start lining up alibis and figuring out who had one and who didn’t.
Her foray back into the world of yoga was officially over.
Especially since Steffie quietly informed her that she was banned from her class for
life.
It was actually fun for Hayley pretending to be crushed.
Island Food & Spirits by Hayley Powell
What a busy week it’s been—what with work, coupon clipping, and cat sitting for Mrs.
Tubbs! I’m sure most of you know by now that poor Mrs. T had an unfortunate car accident,
and is recovering in the hospital. She wanted me to let everyone know that she is
on the mend and will be up and about and back on the road in no time! So watch out!
Kidding.
Anyway, the other evening, shockingly enough, I found myself with a little spare time,
so I decided to clip some more coupons for the upcoming extreme-couponing show to
be filmed here in Bar Harbor. Whenever I decide to clip coupons, I find myself turning
the house upside down to find my favorite pair of scissors, which I swore I had placed
back in the top left drawer in my brother’s kitchen. I’m staying with him while some
issues at my own house are being worked out.
I just love his kitchen drawers, mostly because they are so neat and orderly. Everything
has its place—unlike my own kitchen drawers at home, which look like the aftermath
of a small grenade.
Of course the scissors were nowhere to be found, so I glanced around the room, taking
in the beautiful pristine white walls, lovely built-in cabinets with the open fronts,
not to mention the beautiful black-and-white checkerboard-tiled floor, which he and
Sergio painstakingly put in themselves.
I happened to spy some cans of paint sitting next to the doorway of the pantry and
I remembered that my brother had told me they were going to paint the walls. They
hadn’t been able to find the time yet, since Sergio was away visiting family and Randy
was so busy at his bar.
That’s when a genius idea struck me! It was only 5:30
P.M.
and Randy wouldn’t be home until after 2:00
A.M.
If anyone knew how to paint, it was me, especially given the fact I had recently
updated every one of my rooms in my house in a variety of colors! What a wonderful
way to repay my brother’s kindness for allowing me to crash at his place!
I quickly emptied the pantry shelves; then I searched the garage and found all the
rollers, canvas for the floor, and even an old pair of extra-large white dungaree
overalls to protect my favorite slacks from JCPenney. And so I began painting the
white pantry walls the bright cherry red they had chosen, while singing along at the
top of my lungs to some Trace Adkins I was blasting through the stereo speakers from
the living room. That’s another great thing about my brother’s house. It sits right
on the water; so during the winter, with the howling winds gusting in from the ocean,
no one can hear my atrocious singing voice!
I realized much too late that because of the cranked-up music, I couldn’t hear a commotion
brewing down the hall in the living room.
I managed to finish painting the first coat, and figured I could do the second coat
tomorrow night. Time for a break. I grabbed the half-full can of paint and stepped
backward out of the pantry door to survey my work.
With the music still blaring, I didn’t hear Leroy barking as he barreled down the
hall toward the kitchen. But then, I suddenly sensed something and turned to my left
just as poor Leroy came crashing into the kitchen, a wild-eyed look of terror in his
eyes! Right behind him, hissing furiously, in hot pursuit was Mrs. Tubbs’s Persian
cat, Blueberry, whom I’ve been looking after for her. Leroy launched himself right
into the air, straight at me. Without thinking, I let go of the can of paint to catch
him! What happened next unfolded in slow motion. The paint can hit the floor and tipped
over and a torrent of cherry red paint spilled out.
Blueberry tried skittering to a stop, but he couldn’t slow down fast enough and slid
right into the ever-growing circle of paint, his flabby body skidding to a stop right
in the middle, his fur sopping up the paint like a giant sponge. I dropped Leroy,
who scampered away from the scene to hide in another part of the house. Blueberry,
I believe at this point, was in a mild state of shock. He was on his belly, frantically
trying to escape the sticky paint, unintentionally soaking up so much of it that he
began to resemble Elmo, the furry red Muppet, from
Sesame Street
! Only not as adorable.
In the silence that followed, my head was filled with disturbing visions of a fat
cat bounding away, tearing through the house, painting everything in sight with his
long, dripping red fur. I hurled myself on top of the startled cat, who let out a
bloodcurdling screech. He flipped open claws so long and sharp that he reminded me
of sexy Hugh Jackman in those
X-Men
movies! Again, only not as adorable.
That’s just about the time my brother, who made the fateful decision to leave the
bar early because it was a slow night, strolled into his kitchen through the back
door to find me lying on top of a twenty-five-pound cat, both of us covered in cherry
red paint.
I thought he would see red (pun definitely intended because it’s always best to make
light of a potentially stressful situation). But I have to give him credit. He did
not freak out and took it all in stride. (Personally, I think he may have been shell-shocked.)
As we cleaned up the mess and washed off a growling Blueberry in the kitchen sink,
Randy just quietly shook his head as I promised that I would make it up to him, and
I would start by whipping up his favorite shrimp-and-pasta dinner the next evening,
praying I had not worn out my welcome.
On the bright side, Randy did love the paint job—so, hopefully, I bought myself a
few more nights! Oh, and I found the scissors right where I had left them: in the
living room, on the end table, next to my giant pile of coupons. Oops.
The following night, true to my word, I prepared my shrimp pasta dish. Lucky for me,
given our goal this month to make meals on a budget, I bought the frozen shrimp on
sale and with a two-for-one coupon! All was forgiven!
We also both had a big craving for cherries that night, which neither of us could
explain, so I trotted out my reliable cherry screwdriver recipe for our predinner
cocktail!
Cherry Screwdriver
Ingredients
1½ ounces cherry vodka
Orange juice
Splash of grenadine
Cherry
 
Fill a Collins glass with ice and pour in your vodka, then fill with orange juice
and a splash of grenadine. Stir and top off with a cherry.
Garlic Shrimp and Peas, with Linguine
Ingredients
8 ounces linguine
10-ounce package of frozen peas, thawed
12-ounce package uncooked
shrimp with tails on, thawed
¼ cup butter, divided
2 to 3 cloves garlic, minced
Pinch of salt
½ cup white wine (you can use chicken broth if you prefer)
¼ cup lemon juice
1 teaspoon lemon zest
¼ cup fresh chopped parsley
 
Cook your pasta according to the directions, adding the peas during the last five
minutes of cooking, then drain pasta and peas.
 
Meanwhile, in a large skillet, melt 1 tablespoon butter over medium-high heat. Add
the shrimp and pinch of salt, cook and stir shrimp just until they are light pink,
about 5 minutes, adding the wine during the last minute of cooking.
 
Stir in lemon juice, zest, and remaining butter. Then add your pasta and peas, stirring
until heated through. Remove from heat; stir in parsley. Serve and eat immediately!

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