Death of a Bacon Heiress (9 page)

“So you were a friend of my mother's?” the young man said, barely above the drinking age of twenty-one. His shoulder-length brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail and a maroon tank top hung over his bony frame. He was wearing baggy jeans that hung low on his waist and there was a Doctor Who phone booth tattoo on his left shoulder that gave the impression he was at least slightly more interesting than he appeared.

Hayley held out her hand. “Yes. I'm Hayley Powell. You must be Edward.”

He leaned against the door, casually eating some potato salad from a plastic container before finally taking her hand and shaking it. Then he quickly withdrew it and wiped the palm of his hand on the front of his tank top.

Hayley cleared her throat, breaking the uncomfortable silence. “Your mother and I had only met recently. She hired me to write a blog for the Redmond Meats Web site.”

“Oh. So you're here to get paid? How much did she owe you?”

“No,” Hayley said, mortified. “I'm not here for money. I heard you had arrived in town and so I just wanted to stop by and offer my condolences.”

“I see,” the boy said suspiciously.

“Who is it?” a girl's scratchy voice cooed from behind the door.

“Someone who worked for my mother.”

A shapely woman, no more than eighteen years old, popped into the doorway and slid underneath the boy's arm. She was a foot shorter than he was but round and curvaceous, the exact opposite of his wiry frame. She wore a light green sundress and a flower in her curly blond hair like some sixties flower child dancing through Haight-Ashbury. She twisted a long strand of her golden locks around her finger and pushed her pouty lips out as she gave Hayley the once-over.

“I'm Peggy,” she said.

“Hayley. Nice to meet you.”

“This is my girlfriend,” Edward said needlessly, as the girl was clinging to him like a lost puppy who had just been found by her owner in the woods.

There was a moment of awkward silence.

“Would you like to come in for some tea?” Peggy blurted out, surprising her boyfriend, who gave a look that seemed to say,
For the love of God, please shut up!

“No, thank you,” Hayley said. “I know this must be a difficult time for both of you and I don't want to intrude. . . .”

“We've only been here a few hours and I'm already going stir crazy in this big old empty house! Please! We have real Earl Grey British tea! Not that watered down American Lipton crap,” Peggy said excitedly.

Hayley glanced at Edward, who had given up. It was apparently easier for him to just bend to his girlfriend's will, so he simply forced a smile. “Yes. Come in.”

“Well, maybe for a few minutes . . .”

Peggy clapped her hands and pushed the door all the way open, allowing Hayley to step inside before turning to Edward.

“What's the maid's name again?”

“Cathy, I think,” Edward said, shrugging.

“Caroline. I believe it's Caroline,” Hayley corrected him.

“Okay. Let's try that! Caroline!” Peggy shrieked so loudly some birds in a tree opposite the main entrance to the estate flapped their wings in a panic and flew high into the sky just as she slammed the door shut.

Caroline walked down the hall toward the foyer, her heels clicking on the hardwood floors. Her eyes narrowed at the sight of Hayley. It was clear she considered her a nosy nuisance and was none too pleased she was now hobnobbing with Olivia's son and girlfriend of the moment.

“We'd like some tea, please, in the parlor,” Peggy said, adopting an English accent. “Proper English tea. You'll find it in the pantry.”

“Yes, I know where it is,” Caroline said flatly before turning on her heel and skulking back to the kitchen.

“Again, Edward, let me just say how sorry I am about your mother,” Hayley said as Peggy took her by the arm and led her into the same room where she was escorted the first time she arrived to meet with Olivia.

“It's Red. Everyone calls me Red,” he snarled, as if he was annoyed she hadn't guessed his nickname before.

“I'm sorry. Red.”

“And let's be clear. Red does not stand for red meat, right, honey? My baby is a strict vegan. Just like me,” Peggy said, plopping down on an antique love seat.

“The height of irony,” Red scoffed. “Heir to a bacon fortune and I won't even touch the stuff.”

“Do you watch
Downton Abbey
?” Peggy asked, leaning forward, her eyes as big as saucers as she stared at Hayley.

Hayley was struck by the sudden change in topic and needed a moment to collect her thoughts. “Yes, I've seen it.”

“I love that show! Doesn't this place sort of remind you of the big house they live in? I mean, not the design or anything, but the grandness and the echoey rooms.”

“I suppose. . . .” Hayley said, her voice trailing off as she saw not the slightest similarity between this seacoast Maine mansion and Highclere castle in the English countryside.

The next few minutes were a detailed rundown of why Peggy loved
Downton Abbey
. How she never missed an episode. How she modeled her life after the fashionable and proper Lady Mary, which Hayley found amusing because in her opinion, the haughty character of Lady Mary was self-absorbed and spoiled.

Who would
want
to be like that?

Peggy continued prattling on about how now that Red was going to be inheriting his mother's estate, she would be living a parallel life to her fictional heroine, and how marvelous it all was.

Red sat back in a chair next to the love seat his girlfriend was occupying and watched her with a tight smile, indulging her for the moment but ready to intervene if she said too much.

“This place reminds me so much of how Lord and Lady Grantham lived during that time. Except their servants were a lot
nicer
,” Peggy spit out as Caroline entered with a tea tray and set it down on a small antique coffee table between them.

Hayley noticed the corners of Caroline's eyes were wet with tears. Either she had been in the kitchen crying over her late employer or, more likely, over the fact that she was now beholden to this crass, gold-digging harpy.

“Thank you, Caroline. That will be all,” Peggy said in her most lofty, obnoxious tone.

Caroline cringed and got out of there as fast as she could without being too obvious.

After just a few sips, Red was clearly bored. This was Peggy's little tea party and he wanted no part of it. He set his cup down and stood up. “I have some things to do.”

Details to handle regarding my mother's passing . . .”

“Of course, I understand. I should go. . . .”

“No. Please, stay. Keep me company,” Peggy begged.

“Finish your tea. It would mean a lot to Peggy,” Red said as he walked out.

Peggy put on a frown for full effect. “He's really bummed out by his mother dying.”

Bummed out?

Lady Mary would never say anything like that.

And on the surface, at least in Hayley's eyes, Red did not seem the least bit upset by his mother's grisly murder in the garden.

“Were they close?”

Peggy let out a spurt of giggles. She put a hand over her mouth when she noticed Hayley staring at her.

“I'm sorry. That was rude. Just the idea of Red being close to his mother is hysterical. He couldn't stand her!”

“But you just said he was . . . bummed out.”

“Yes. Because he's the executioner.”

“What?”

“Yes. The executioner of the estate.”

“You mean executor,” Hayley said, gently correcting her.

Unlike Sergio's malapropisms, which were born out of English being his second language, this flighty nitwit had no legitimate excuse.

“Yeah, I guess. He's her only child and his dad was paid off and kicked to the curb when he divorced Red's mother, so now all the annoying details and boring paperwork is on his shoulders.”

“I see.”

“My poor baby. Stuck here for God knows how long handling this whole mess. Just when we were scheduled to go to the Coachella music festival in Palm Springs. But between you and me, if I had a choice of standing in the desert baking in the sun, dehydrated, listening to one obscure band after another for three days or hanging out here in the lap of luxury, I'm happy we had to come here!”

Such a sweet, sensitive girl.

“He doesn't even care about getting all that money. Luckily he's got me to look out for him and to make sure he gets what's coming to him. More tea?” Peggy said, lifting the pot from the tray.

“No, thank you, I'm fine.”

Peggy didn't wait for Hayley to finish. She poured anyway, filling her cup to the brim.

“Oh. Okay . . .” Hayley said, resigned to the fact she would be stuck here for a little while longer.

“After we first got together Red wanted to take me to Bali for a month, but he didn't have enough money and got angry because he's got a
huge
trust fund, but he can't touch it until he's twenty-five and his mother wouldn't let him withdraw a cent early. I told him what mother who loved her son would deny him his due? Especially when he's met the love of his life and wants to impress her and give her the lifestyle she so richly deserves!”

“You . . . actually said that to him?”

“Yes. Why?” she asked, doe eyed, oblivious to how wretched she was acting.

“No reason. Well, I guess now that Olivia is gone, that's all moot.”

“Moot? What's moot?”

“I just meant now he's going to inherit everything, so the trust fund issue is no longer important.”

“I know! Isn't it wonderful?” Peggy said, a gleeful look in her eye.

Remarkably, after a moment Peggy must have realized she shouldn't be so giddy over her financial prospects so soon after a woman's death, so she struggled to appear slightly more solemn. “Of course, despite Red's relationship with his mother, it's still all very tragic.”

She knew she needed to act more appropriately. Like how Lady Mary mourned when her younger sister, Sybil, died, on
Downton Abbey
in the second season.

That lasted about a minute.

“I saw a Rolls Royce parked in the garage earlier! Would you like to go for a spin?”

“Oh, I can't.”

“I asked Caroline where the keys were kept and she pretended not to know, but I could tell she was lying. She just doesn't want me driving it. So I did a little snooping and I found them in a drawer in Olivia's bedroom,” Peggy said, fishing them out of a pocket in her sundress and dangling them in front of Hayley. “Come on. It'll be fun.”

How Hayley became this obnoxious, odious girl's new best friend was completely beyond her. “Afraid not. I need to go home. I have a column to write for the paper.”

Peggy sighed. “Suit yourself.”

The girl had zero interest in what kind of column Hayley needed to write or anything else. She was too focused on her joy ride in a Rolls.

Peggy floated out the door, not even offering to show her out.

Hayley stepped into the hallway and was greeted by Red again, who seemed to be having second thoughts about leaving her in the hands of his chatty, gossipy girlfriend.

“I appreciate you stopping by, Hayley,” Red said.

No, he didn't. He just wanted to make sure she was going to leave.

“There is one thing I want to discuss with you before I go,” Hayley said.

His shoulders tensed. He'd been
so
close to getting rid of her.

“It's about Pork Chop. The vet, Dr. Palmer, is going to release him tomorrow. I know you're probably swamped with funeral arrangements and meetings with lawyers, so I just wanted to say I would be happy to drive him over here myself and drop him off.”

“That's very sweet of you, Hayley, but it's not necessary,” Red said.

“It's really no problem. . . .”

“The thing is, I don't want him.”

“But—”

“My mother showered more gifts and attention on that porker in one week than she ever did on me my entire life. So I have no intention of ever laying eyes on that damn dirty pig ever again!”

“I'm sorry, Hayley, but I can't keep him here any longer. If someone doesn't claim him soon, I'm going to have to resort to more drastic measures,” Aaron said, sitting behind the large oak desk in his office, sleeves rolled up and tie askew.

It had been a long day and he was tired.

“You mean
put him down
?” Hayley gasped.

“No. I mean calling animal control. What they do with him after that, however, I have no say over. I'm sorry.”

Aaron's very businesslike behavior was nagging at Hayley, but she chose not to call him on it.

“Well, what should I do?”

“You can always take Pork Chop home with you until you figure out what to do with him,” Aaron suggested, rifling through some paperwork and scratching some notes on a pad with a pencil.

He knew from dating Hayley that she was a sentimental sucker and an enthusiastic animal lover, so in his mind the problem had already been solved.

“You know I can't do that. I have two very high maintenance pets already who take up all of my energy.”

“Then I don't know what else to tell you,” he said, barely glancing up from the papers on his desk.

“Aaron . . .”

“Yeah?”

He scribbled more notes, his eyes glued to his pad of paper.

Hayley just stood there in silence, debating with herself on what she should say. She really couldn't handle the obvious wall between them much longer.

Propose or break it off.

Just pick one and do it.

For both their sakes.

Aaron finally realized she wasn't talking and looked up. “Did you want to say something, Hayley?”

She cleared her throat. It was time. They needed to discuss their relationship. She was finally in the same room with him. She had his attention. He was curious what she had to say.

Go for it.

Just go for it.

“Do you have a pet carrier I can borrow?” Aaron gave her a slight smile and nodded.

She could have kicked herself. What a wimp she was.

Fifteen minutes later she was pulling into her driveway. Next to her on the passenger seat Pork Chop was pressing his snout against the wire-rimmed cage, curious as to where he was going. She and Aaron had had no trouble getting him inside the carrier. He was probably grateful to be leaving the clinic where he was housed with a bunch of loud barking dogs.

Hayley got out of the car and circled around to lift the carrier out and haul her new houseguest inside.

Leroy bounded down the steps, his toenails that needed to be clipped clicking on the hardwood floors as he scurried into the kitchen to greet Hayley. His tail wagged excitedly as Hayley bent down to rub the fur on top of his head, and his tongue hung out of his mouth as he panted. He gazed at Hayley, trying his best to look adorable and devoted so she might feed him before pouring herself a glass of wine.

That's when the snorting from the animal carrier she had set down on the floor diverted his attention. Hayley unlatched the lock on the cage and opened the door, and Pork Chop tentatively poked his head out to take in his new surroundings.

“We're going to have company for a few days, Leroy. This is Pork Chop. Try to make him feel at home.”

Leroy was startled by this noisy creature with black skin, erect ears, and a short snout. At first he recoiled, finding cover behind Hayley's leg, but his curiosity got the best of him and he couldn't help but slowly approach the pig, who was already inhaling bits of food that had fallen underneath the kitchen table.

Hayley tried looking on the bright side. Maybe she wouldn't have to vacuum as much with a potbellied pig around.

When Leroy got close enough, the pig, who had poor eyesight but excellent hearing and sense of smell, sensed the dog approaching and turned to greet him. Leroy was close enough that his nose touched Pork Chop's snout.

No barking.

No biting.

No panicking.

Just a calm friendly introduction.

Leroy's tail slowly resumed wagging. He had a new playmate.

This temporary arrangement just might work out after all.

And then she heard the hissing.

Her Persian cat, Blueberry, bared his teeth, whiskers curled up doing his best to demonstrate his disapproval. He stood in the doorway to the kitchen, back arched high in the air, or as much as a twenty-pound Persian cat could raise it, eyes locked on the interloper, who at the moment was paying him no mind.

“You're just going to have to get used to him, Blueberry. He's not going anywhere for a few days,” Hayley said.

The next two hours were sheer hell.

Hayley had taken a few minutes to pour herself a glass of wine while Pork Chop trotted off to explore the house. He was soon tearing up a quilt on the couch as he tried to find a nesting place. Leroy joined in, believing it was some kind of game. And Blueberry continued hissing and emitting a low steady growl as he kept his distance from the pig. Unfortunately that plan failed when Pork Chop got too close for comfort, so Blueberry lashed out with his claws, slashing the pig's snout, who wailed in pain. Leroy, frightened by the pig's cries, started barking.

Hayley knelt down to comfort the pig and saw a crippling sad look in his eyes as he continued whining. It was clear he wasn't crying from Blueberry's unprovoked attack.

This pig was in mourning.

He was missing his mistress, Olivia Redmond. And her absence was amplified by the fact that he had been deposited from one strange place to another in the span of just a few days.

More wailing.

More hissing.

More barking.

At least her empty-nest syndrome was finally cured. Yes, she still missed the kids. But now her hands were full with a grief-stricken pig, a high-strung dog, and an enraged territorial cat.

Hayley poured herself another glass of wine.

Thankfully, two hours later Randy arrived with a box full of table scraps he had packed up at his bar.

“I know there are all these rules about what pigs should and should not eat, but I figured tonight we could make an exception. At least until you can get to the store and stock up on some healthier vegetation.”

“Thank you, Randy. I appreciate it.”

She removed the tin foil and made a plate of chicken fingers, French fries, some leftover hamburger meat, and the remnants of a tossed salad and set it down for Pork Chop, who excitedly consumed it, and was soon joined by Leroy, who insisted on his own fair share. Blueberry remained underneath the coffee table in the living room, defiantly making his point that he was not happy about any of this situation by keeping up his low, incessant growl.

“You have a plan yet on what you're going to do with him?”

Hayley shook her head and gulped down her wine. “Olivia's son, Red, wants nothing to do with him.”

“Sergio stopped by the bar on his way home. He had just finished questioning Olivia Redmond's maid. . . .”

“Caroline.”

“Right. Anyway, according to her, on the day Olivia was killed, before she took Pork Chop out for a walk and never came back, she had a visitor.”

“Who?”

“Felicity Flynn-Chan.”

“The owner of the Blooming Rose restaurant?”

“Yes. They talked for about fifteen minutes. Caroline was in the kitchen washing the breakfast dishes and couldn't hear what was said, but she saw Felicity leave and she did not look happy. In fact, it looked like she was crying.”