Read Death of a Kitchen Diva (Hayley Powell Food and Cocktail Mysteries) Online

Authors: Lee Hollis

Death of a Kitchen Diva (Hayley Powell Food and Cocktail Mysteries) (13 page)

BOOK: Death of a Kitchen Diva (Hayley Powell Food and Cocktail Mysteries)

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Chapter 22

Hayley wasn’t sure Sal would want her back working at the paper, at least until all the controversy swirling around Karen Applebaum’s murder died down. So she was delighted to get a call from him when she returned home from her meeting with Winnie Cornbluth ordering her back to the office immediately. The place was falling apart without her.

Hayley jumped back in her car and drove straight over to the office. She didn’t know what to expect when she got there, but was pleasantly surprised to find the staff acting as they always did, complaining about the bitter coffee and stale bagels, maneuvering around each other to score the best vacation days, and mumbling about how hard it was to get by on the pennies Sal paid them.

Business as usual.

And Hayley loved it. Nobody once mentioned her arrest. Even the locals who called in to place ads for their local businesses were cheery and pleasant when they heard Hayley’s voice on the phone. Maybe it was because no one seriously believed she was behind Karen Applebaum’s murder.

At least that was what Hayley hoped was the case.

There were two crank calls during the day from blocked numbers. One sounded like a kid, who kept snickering and said he gave his dog a bowl of Hayley’s clam chowder and it killed him.

Hardly original.

The other call was more insidious. Clearly it was from an adult with a harsh, raspy voice who told Hayley she would burn in hell for her sins. Hayley didn’t mention either call to anyone at the
Times
. Why create any more drama? She just went about her day and tried not to think about the murder.

Around two in the afternoon, Sal buzzed her and called her into his office.

Hayley grabbed a pad of paper and pencil and went into the back bull pen.

She caught Sal at his desk playing Solitaire on his computer. He quickly shut it off when he noticed Hayley looking at the screen.

“I want to talk to you about your next column,” Sal said, a serious tone in his voice. “Have you thought about what you’re going to write?”

“No, I usually just sit down and write down whatever comes to me.”

“That’s obvious.”

Hayley couldn’t decide if he was complimenting her or insulting her.

For the sake of her sanity, she decided to take it as a compliment. “But I do have a few ideas about my next recipe since I’m doing a seven course series and ...”

“That’s nice, Hayley,” Sal interrupted, not the least bit interested. “I think you should write some kind of tribute to Karen Applebaum.”

“Excuse me?” Hayley was floored.

“She was well-known in town. It would be irresponsible of us not to at least say something about her.”

“Her name is plastered all over our front page.”

“Yes, she’s the number one local news story. But we don’t have anything about her personally. I know there aren’t a lot of people in town who liked her, but she did have her fans and we have to acknowledge that.”

“But I’m the last person who should be saying anything. Everybody thinks I was the one who knocked her off!”

“Which is exactly why you should do it. Tackle the rumors head-on! Show everybody we’re not taking these wild accusations seriously. Okay? That’s all. I know you’ll do a bang-up job.”

Hayley studied Sal for a moment. He had trouble making eye contact with her. “You do think I’m innocent, don’t you, Sal?”

“Of course I do!” Sal bellowed. “There’s really no basis for suspicion. I mean, so what you had a public feud with Karen? So what you were at the scene of the crime? So what the same poison that killed her was found in your purse?” Sal stopped talking as soon as he realized he was arguing against his own point.

“I appreciate your support, Sal, I really do,” Hayley said. “But do you honestly believe me paying tribute to Karen is the best idea? It seems desperate.”

“Maybe,” Sal said. “But it’s going to sell a hell of a lot of papers.”

“But is it a good idea?”

“Yes. Because now we can all pay our heating bills in the winter.”

Hayley knew the discussion was over. Without having written down one word on her notepad, she left Sal’s office acutely aware of her new marching orders. She had already addressed Karen’s death in her previous column. Now Sal wanted a tribute? She had no clue how she was going to approach this herculean task of writing about Karen without making herself look self-serving and even more guilty.

Hayley returned to the front office and sat down at her computer. She stared at the blank screen.

She typed a few opening words.

And then deleted them.

The door opened and a gust of wind sent a few papers in her inbox flying.

Hayley swiveled around in her chair to grab them before they hit the floor, and froze at the sight of Lex Bansfield standing in the doorway.

“What are you doing here?” Hayley asked, as nonchalantly as she could.

“I’m here to reschedule our date.”

“You do realize I am the number one suspect in a murder investigation?”

“I like to live dangerously.”

“So you still want to go out with me?”

“Absolutely,” Lex said, smiling. “Besides, you’ve got great legs.”

“The Manson girls had great legs, too, from what I hear.”

“Yeah, but they weren’t so big on personal hygiene and you smell real nice.”

Hayley smiled. Major points for that one.

Bruce wandered in from the back. He was scowling. “Hayley, I don’t mean to interrupt ...”

“Sure you do,” Lex said, giving him a wink.

Now this was interesting.

Did Lex have some inside information about Bruce being jealous?

“She’s on the clock and what I have to talk to her about is a business matter, not a personal one, so your charming little back and forth banter will just have to wait,” Bruce said, glaring.

Hayley was a bit titillated by their obvious rivalry. High school was the last time two boys had fought over her. And it really wasn’t much of a fight. They both asked her to the prom at the same time during a pep rally. It didn’t lead to fisticuffs. They ended up flipping a coin.

But still, it made Hayley feel special.

“What is it, Bruce?” Hayley asked.

“Have you seen the office dictionary?” he said, a little too quickly.

“Got a close game of Scrabble going on back there?” Lex said, winking again.

“Do you have something in your eye?” Bruce asked, his nostrils flaring.

Lex threw his hands up to let Bruce know he was finished teasing.

“No, Bruce, I haven’t seen it,” Hayley said. “Just look the word up on the Internet. It’s 2012.”

“Listen, I know you’re working, so I’m not going to bother you. Just say yes. We’ll make a plan later,” Lex said, opening the door to leave.

“Yes,” Hayley said, almost singing.

Lex gave her a quick wave and was back out the door.

Hayley’s smile faded as she was left with just Bruce. “Did you butt in on our conversation on purpose?”

“Of course not,” Bruce said, watching Lex cross the street to his parked jeep. “But I told you, I don’t trust the guy.”

Hayley picked up her bag and handed it to Bruce. “Here.”

“What are you giving me this for?”

“I thought maybe you could stuff a Colt .45 in there, and stumble across it whenever I end up going out with Lex.”

Bruce shoved the bag back at Hayley, and stormed off. “Not funny.”

Hayley turned back to her computer. She was excited that Lex hadn’t been scared off. Actually she was the one who was scared now. Not over her impending date with the hottest bachelor in town. No, she was scared about the column saluting the late great Karen Applebaum. She was at a loss over what to say. She knew she had to write something, but until she learned the truth about Karen’s murder, there was no way she could write anything honest or truthful.

She closed the file on the tribute column and started another one from scratch. She would tell Sal she needed more time. And in the meantime, she would continue writing as if nothing had happened.

Which, of course, would just make her look even more guilty.

It was a losing situation all around.

Island Food & Spirits

by Hayley Powell

Let me tell you, this week has been just a tiny bit stressful, so last night when I got home from work, I decided to call my brother and check on how he was doing and to see what mischief he’s been up to lately. But honestly, I also wanted to beg him to give me his delicious Pomegranate Cosmopolitan recipe that he offers at his bar Drinks Like A Fish.

Hanging up after a nice chat, I proceeded to whip up a batch of the Cosmos and carry them out to the front porch where I could sit, relax, and think about what would be a nice fifth course for our seven course meal. I’m sure Randy won’t mind if I share the recipe with you, but don’t forget to go into the bar and try his ... only four bucks if you show up for happy hour! And Thursdays are 2 for 1 night!

On the front porch, I watched and listened to the different birds flapping around my bird feeders and also heard my neighbor’s chickens clucking softly in their backyard pen. I never thought I’d see the day when Bar Harbor would allow people in town to raise their own chickens. But I don’t make the laws.

Suddenly I heard a loud horrible growling, a deafening crash, and chickens clucking like crazy! I looked over to my neighbor’s yard to see what was the cause of all the commotion.

Imagine my horror at spotting a giant stray hungry dog that had somehow managed to get into the chicken coop by tearing down one side of the fence! He was chasing all of the panicked chickens around trying to nab a few for his dinner. Well, I grabbed the closest thing in my reach, which was the broom I used to sweep off the porch earlier. And I climbed over the ripped-down fence myself and started to chase the big dog around swatting at him with the broom while yelling at the top of my lungs to my kids to call the police and get someone over to stop the dog before he killed all the chickens! Well, my daughter apparently didn’t hear me because she opened the door and screamed, “What?”

The next thing I knew, Leroy shot out the door past my daughter and made a beeline for the chicken coop! So now here was one more excited wild-eyed barking dog chasing and nipping at the giant stray who was running around the coop snapping at the terrified chickens!

Well, wouldn’t you know at this moment my neighbor pulled up and saw her chicken coop fence torn down, and two dogs, a bunch of scared chickens, and me with a broom all running around inside causing a loud ruckus. I could tell by her face she was a bit confused. At that precise moment, we all heard a wailing siren followed by the sight of a police cruiser screeching to a halt right in front of my poor neighbor, who by now looked like she was about to pass out from the shock.

Two of our finest, Donnie and Earl, jumped out of the car, guns drawn. They knocked the poor woman aside, and began racing for the chicken coop yelling at me to get out of the way and run for my life! Later I would find out my daughter, who has a slight tendency to overdramatize situations, called the police station and reported that there was a rabid monster dog attacking and killing her beloved dog Leroy, a bunch of panicked chickens, and, oh yeah, her mother.

And yes, it was in that order.

I waved my broom and yelled at the young officers to put down their guns, and to please not shoot, especially since word around town was Donnie is nearsighted and refused to get laser surgery, and what if he missed and someone was hit? Like, me for example, who was in the direct line of fire.

Donnie and Earl lowered their weapons and it became strangely quiet. I turned around to see the two dogs panting, lying on the ground side by side, utterly spent. The chickens were finally settling down as well. I was the only one making noise at this point, still waving my broom and screaming at the boys not to shoot. They looked at me like I was an insane woman, so I calmly picked up a very tired and very happy tail-wagging Leroy in one arm and casually climbed back over the fence that had been ripped down, asking Donnie and Earl to please see to it that the stray dog be examined by the local vet to make sure he didn’t have rabies. Hopefully an owner would be found. Calmly passing my neighbor, I told her to have a lovely evening and no thanks were necessary because that’s what neighbors are for. I don’t think she said anything as I went home, head held high.

And this morning I saw her look away when I waved good morning.

But if anything good did come out of the Great Late Night Chicken Rescue, I will say thanks to those chickens for helping me come up with a great dish for our fifth course—Creamy Chicken Marsala.

But first you have to try Randy’s delicious Cosmo. Believe me, it was the perfect way to relax after my chicken coop ordeal.

Pomegranate Cosmopolitans

2 cups of your favorite vodka
1 cup Cointreau
1 cup pomegranate juice
½ cup fresh squeezed lime juice

Mix together in a pitcher your vodka, Cointreau, pomegranate juice, and lime. Pour the mixture in to a shaker with ice and serve in your favorite martini glasses and enjoy!

Now for our fifth course—and this will have your dinner guests talking.

Creamy Chicken Marsala

4 boneless skinless chicken breasts
¼ cup chopped green onion
1 cup sliced fresh mushrooms
cup Marsala wine
cup heavy cream
cup milk salt and pepper to taste