Read Death of a Cupcake Queen Online

Authors: Lee Hollis

Death of a Cupcake Queen (9 page)

BOOK: Death of a Cupcake Queen
12.91Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads
Chapter 15
“I am not, do you hear me,
not
going to bury my wife in a pink box!” Nigel roared in the casket selection room of McFarland's Funeral Home.
“But it's the same color as the frosting on her most popular cupcakes,” a woman who vaguely resembled the deceased countered. “I personally believe it would be a fitting tribute!”
“It costs twelve hundred dollars!”
“I can't believe you're penny pinching on your own wife's funeral, Nigel,” the woman huffed. “You may have a posh English accent, but you are decidedly low class.”
Hayley stood just outside the selection room, trying to remain inconspicuous. She had stopped by McFarland's on her way home from the office to see the funeral home owner, Lacey, with whom she had gone to high school. Lacey had recently taken over running the business since her parents were retiring and moving to Florida. Hayley needed Lacey to sign off on an ad that was to be placed in next Monday's paper. There was a discrepancy about whether an exterior shot of the building or an interior shot of the main visitation room was to be featured and instead of e-mailing back and forth Hayley thought it would be easier just to drop in and take care of the matter in person on her way home.
Lacey was busy in the arrangement room with an elderly woman grieving the recent loss of her husband, so Hayley waited in the hallway. She had only been there a few seconds before she heard Nigel arguing with a woman Hayley assumed was Ivy's sister, Irene, who was a few years younger and had just flown in from California to help with arrangements. She hadn't seen her since they were kids, but the two sisters shared similar features and both had the same irritating high-pitched squealing voice.
“I was thinking more along the lines of this one,” Nigel said abruptly.
“You've got to be kidding! You might as well stuff her body in a garbage bag and leave it out on the street!” Irene wailed.
“Don't be so overdramatic, Irene, it's a perfectly fine casket.”
“What is it called, the welfare casket? It looks like it's made of cheap plywood! It doesn't even have an adjustable head rest like this one over here.”
“Ivy's not going to care about comfort! She's dead!”
“My God, I knew you were cold, Nigel, but this is horrific behavior even for you!”
Nigel took a deep breath. “Let's just get through this, shall we?”
“Fine. If you're too cheap to bury my sister in a proper last resting place then I'll pay for it. We're going with the pink one. Any objections?”
Nigel threw his hands up in the air, surrendering. “Whatever you want, Irene.”
Lacey McFarland hurried out of the office in a smart gray pants suit. She was stocky with close-cropped blond hair and normally a big inviting smile, but today she was in business mode and kept her face a mask of seriousness and empathy.
When she spotted Hayley, she couldn't resist letting her lovely smile creep back.
“Hayley, I haven't seen you in ages,” Lacey said, before quickly wiping the smile off her face. “You're not here on business, are you? I mean, nobody's passed to the other side, I hope!”
“Oh, lord no; I'm just here to go over your ad for the
Island Times
.”
“What a relief! Let me just finish up in there and then we can chat,” Lacey said, clasping her hands together and affixing her concerned, caring funeral director's expression on her face before hustling into the selection room. “Have we made any decisions?”
“Yes, we will take the Persian Rose Deluxe Slumber Chamber with the velvet bedding and adjustable head rest and I also want to buy the guaranteed one hundred year termite protection warranty,” Irene said. “I will be the one paying for it.”
“Very well. Shall we go to my office and fill out the paperwork?”
“Yes. And just so you know, Ms. McFarland, I will be handling all the other arrangements as well. I'm afraid if we leave the details to Ivy's husband, my poor sister will wind up just propped up on a couch for the viewing.”
“Certainly, Irene. Come with me. And let me say again, I am so, so sorry for your loss, both of you.”
“Just make sure Irene doesn't drag this circus out. I want the service and burial as close together as possible. The sooner I get back to New York, the better,” Nigel spit out.
There was an awkward silence.
Lacey then came around the corner guiding Irene to her office with a gentle hand underneath her arm.
Irene didn't acknowledge Hayley.
She was too busy dabbing her eye with a wadded up Kleenex.
Lacey, however, nodded to Hayley and mouthed, “Be right with you.”
They disappeared into the office and shut the door just as Nigel barreled around the corner and nearly slammed into Hayley.
“Oh, hello,” he said in his clipped English accent.
“Nigel, we met at the golf club shortly after you and Ivy arrived in town,” Hayley said, quietly. “I'm Hayley. I went to high school with—”
“I know who you are,” Nigel said.
“I just want to say how sorry I am . . .”
“You can stop being nice. I know you and all of Ivy's friends think I did it. That I couldn't take Ivy's verbal abuse anymore and I just snapped.”
“I don't necessarily think that . . .”
“Then you're the only one.”
“I was hoping we could talk . . .”
“I'm not interested in sitting down and remembering all the good times with Ivy, and even if I was, we'd be done in less than a minute so let's not waste each other's time.”
Nigel's cell phone rang. He fumbled around looking for it before finally locating it in the breast pocket of his tweed jacket. He checked the caller ID. His eyes widened slightly before he glanced over at Hayley and pressed the screen against his chest, worried she might get a glimpse of the name flashing on his phone.
“I need to take this. Excuse me,” Nigel said, brushing past her and clamping the phone to his ear as he headed toward the door.
Hayley heard him say in a hushed whisper. “I can't talk right now. I'm going outside. Hang on.”
He cranked his head around to see if Hayley was watching him but she managed to look the other way pretending not to care.
Satisfied, he shoved open the door and hotfooted it outside.
But Hayley did care.
She wanted to know who Nigel was so desperate to talk to without any eavesdroppers around.
If the man did kill his wife, was it possible he had some kind of help doing it?
Chapter 16
His flexing muscles glistened with sweat as he waved the electric trimmer over the top of the hedge. He wiped some perspiration off his brow and adjusted the baseball cap he was wearing to keep the blazing sun out of his eyes, which was just now retreating below the ocean's horizon in the late hours of the afternoon. He was shirtless, his smooth chest and torso truly a sight to behold. And he was completely oblivious he was being stared at by a group gathered around a picnic table close to the main house on the property where he had been hired to work.
Hayley watched with a smile as Gemma completely missed her mouth with a forkful of crabmeat salad because she was so drawn to the masculine image of perfection so close to her. Some mayo dribbled down the front of her Rock the Vote t-shirt and she reached for a napkin to clean her cheek.
Dustin snorted and shook his head then went back to gnawing at his corn on the cob stopping only when a tiny kernel got wedged between his teeth.
Gemma tried acting casual but it was to no avail. “Who's that?”
Randy touched his husband Sergio's arm before pretending to notice the young man working near the edge of the property close to the path that led to the rocky shore line. “Oh, him? That's Hardy. Our new gardener.”
“He's cute,” Gemma said nonchalantly, but failing miserably. She tried again to put some crabmeat in her mouth but it proved too challenging to stare and eat at the same time so she threw her fork down.
“He usually comes on Sundays, but I told him we needed our hedges trimmed today.”
“Why? They look fine,” Hayley said.
“They are. I evened the tops yesterday myself, but then I remembered my gorgeous niece was coming over this evening for a family barbecue, and I thought, “Wouldn't it be nice for the two of them to meet? Who knows? They might hit it off. He's just back from his freshman year at Bates College.”
“Good school,” Hayley said.
“I wouldn't fix my favorite niece up with just anyone,” Randy sniffed.
“This is a fix up? And for the record, I'm your only niece. What did you tell him, Uncle Randy?”
“I told him the truth about you,” Randy said.
“How could you do that? That's the worst thing you could do!”
“What? Tell him you're beautiful and funny and charming and one hundred percent take after me?”
“I am so embarrassed right now! Nobody look at him! He'll know we're talking about him!” Gemma said, slumping down on the picnic table bench and staring at the grass.
“I thought if the two of you hit it off, you might consider inviting him to be your date for your prom,” Randy shrugged.
Gemma whipped around to glare at her mother. “You told him I got dumped by Nate Forte?”
“He asked who you were going with and I may have mentioned what happened,” Hayley said. “What's the big deal?”
“What's the big deal? This! This is the big deal! You didn't think Uncle Randy would pull something like this?”
“FYI, I'm sitting right here,” Randy huffed. “What's so wrong with trying to help you find a date? I said to your mother that there was no reason you should be stuck choosing from the pool of boys in your graduating class. The key to a hot date is casting a wider net.”
“I just want to shrink until I disappear right now,” Gemma said, hunched over. “I am so humiliated.”
“Should I call him over?” Randy asked.
“Is this some weird version of that old
Sixth Sense
movie? Have I somehow died and I'm now a ghost that no one can hear? Please don't
do
or
say
anything! I'm begging you.”
“Fine. We'll change the subject,” Randy said, scooping some leafy salad onto his plate from a wooden bowl. “Dustin, are you excited for summer vacation?”
“I flunked my history final and now they want me to go to summer school to make up for it or they're going to hold me back a year,” Dustin said quickly as he chewed on his corn. “I'm done. Who's next?”
“Wait. Back up. What?” Hayley said, turning to her son, a stern look on her face. “When were you going to tell me this?”
“I don't know. Now seemed like a good time. Hey, Uncle Sergio, how's your murder investigation going? Any arrests yet?”
“We're not done with you, Mister,” Hayley said wrenching the half eaten corn cob out of Dustin's hand and setting it down on his plate.
Dustin looked at Randy, annoyed. “It didn't work, Uncle Randy.”
“What?” Randy said.
“You said the way to get Mom off a subject you don't want to talk about is to mention one of Uncle Sergio's murder cases. It would distract her like a baby watching one of those hanging crib mobiles.”
“Oh, really?” Hayley said, shifting in her seat to confront her brother.
“I don't think I ever said that,” Randy said half-heartedly, obviously lying. “Or at least I didn't use those exact words.”
“There is nothing much to say about it anyway,” Sergio said. “I am focusing the investigation on Ivy Foster's husband Nigel, but I have three eyewitnesses who swear he was nowhere near the kitchen when she was killed.”
“Most of the guests at the reunion were in plain view at the time Charles McNally discovered the body. Who are we not thinking about?” Hayley said, suddenly distracted.
Dustin grinned from ear to ear as Randy picked up a napkin and hurled it at his nephew's face.
Hayley spun around in an instant and intercepted the napkin, rubbing some greasy butter off her son's face. “Don't think for a minute we're done talking about that history final.”
“I'm pretty much done with the hedges. Anything else you'd like trimmed before I leave?” Hardy said, surprising everyone with his stealth arrival at the table.
“Uh, no, that's it, Hardy,” Randy said, fumbling. “By the way, have you met my niece Gemma?”
“Hi,” Hardy said, revealing a mega watt grin and dimples.
Gemma shuddered and nodded her head. “Hey, how's it going?”
“Isn't she a beauty?” Randy said as Gemma kicked him hard under the table and he flinched.
“Very pretty,” Hardy agreed.
There was an interminable amount of silence before Dustin stuck his hand out. “I'm Dustin. The ignored nephew.”
Hardy chuckled and shook his hand. “Hardy. Nice to meet you, Dustin.”
“And that's my stunningly beautiful mother with a sparkling personality,” Dustin said, waving an arm at Hayley.
“Sweet words are not going to make me forget about you going to summer school,” Hayley said, eyes narrowing.
“Then let me rephrase that. That's my mother,” Dustin said, giving up.
“Gemma, have you found a dress for your prom yet?” Randy asked innocently.
Gemma stared at him.
She could not believe this was happening.
“Yes, Uncle Randy. I have. But I'm thinking about not going at all.”
“But it's your senior prom. You have to go. It would be a crying shame if you didn't. Wouldn't it, Hardy?”
“Oh, yeah. I had a blast at mine last year,” Hardy said.
“Hardy went to high school in Waterville. He's just down here for the summer gardening to help pay for college,” Randy said.
Gemma squirmed in her seat, wanting to die.
“You have most nights free though, right?” Randy asked.
“Most of them, yeah.”
“Hey, I have a wild idea,” Randy said, acting as if a lightbulb just went off in his head.
“Uncle Randy, please!” Gemma said, almost bawling.
“Never mind, Hardy. I shouldn't interfere,” Randy said, calculating his response.
“No. What is it?” Hardy said, curious.
Gemma, ashen-faced, eyes afire, picked up a butter knife and wielded it menacingly at her uncle.
Randy finally took the hint. “It was just a crazy thought. Forget it.”
Gemma sat up straight and sighed with relief.
“He was going to ask if you would take Gemma to her prom next weekend,” Dustin said, gleefully jumping at the chance to embarrass his sister.
Gemma tried hard not to leap across the picnic table and strangle him.
“I would love to,” Hardy said.
Everyone took a collective breath.
“But unfortunately Robin's coming to the island next weekend for a visit.”
“Who's Robin? Your girlfriend?” Hayley asked.
“No. My boyfriend.”
“What? I had no idea you were gay,” Randy said, flabbergasted.
“Really? That's funny. I knew right away you were.”
Hayley guffawed, spitting out her lemonade.
“If it was any other weekend, I'd be honored to escort you, Gemma,” Hardy said, winking. “Better go find my shirt.”
Hardy ambled off toward the house.
“Well, that went well,” Hayley said.
“I am going to focus on how much I love you so I don't kill you, Uncle Randy,” Gemma said. “But you should definitely know that I will, I am not sure when or how, but I
will
get even with you for that disgraceful display!”
“Just trying to help,” Randy said. “I had so much fun at my prom that I just want you to experience that same kind of memory.”
“Who did you go with, Uncle Randy?” Dustin asked, reaching for another corn on the cob before snatching the butter knife out of Gemma's hand, scooping up some butter and slathering it all over its side.
“Lori O'Malley. She was my best friend and beard for both eighth grade and senior prom. She knew I was gay but didn't care because we always had such a good time hanging out together.”
“Did you ever have a boyfriend when you were a kid?” Sergio asked, finally deciding to join the conversation because the topic was finally interesting him.
“Oh God, no! I was too much of a closet case! Though it was no secret to anybody since I spent the entire second grade running around playing Charlie's Angels and karate chopping all the boys I had crushes on.”
“Not even in high school?” Dustin asked.
“By then, I considered myself too sophisticated to settle for a townie. I set my sights higher. I was saving myself for George Michael. Then there was Julian Reed. Remember him, Hayley?”
“How could I forget? He rented a house here on the island one summer years ago.”
“Who is Julian Reed? I never heard of him,” Sergio said.
“He was an actor. Kind of the Rob Lowe of his day. Very sexy. More beautiful than most of the women he dated. I wore out my VHS copy of
Summer Fling
where he was the pool boy at the country club who got involved with some billionaire's daughter and the family didn't think he was good enough for her, and they wind up running away together and he gets shot in the end by the girl's father and it looks like he's going to die but his love proves too strong and he recovers and rescues her from that private school that's like a girls' prison.”
“Looks like we can skip watching it on Netflix,” Gemma said.
“I'm assuming his career died right after that,” Dustin said.
“No,” Randy said. “He did. Right here on the island.”
Sergio, Gemma, and Dustin all perked up, suddenly interested.
“Remember, Hayley?”
“How could I forget? It was right after my high school graduation.”
“He got blisteringly drunk one night that summer and fell and hit his head on the cement and drowned in his swimming pool. It was so tragic. Such a waste.”
“I remember you were so shook up over it because you idolized him and you mourned his death that whole summer,” Hayley said.
“I was obsessed with him. Ever since he did that
Cosmo
spread totally nude. Well, not totally nude, he had a throw pillow over his junk. But he was so freaking hot and the second I heard about it I knew I had to get a copy but I was deathly afraid someone would see me buying it so I shoplifted one from Carey's Corner Store.”
“Yeah, and Mom found it in your room and I covered for you and told her it was mine.”
“Thanks for that, by the way. I still have my copy if you want to see it, Hayley,” Randy said.
“I do! I want to see it!” Sergio blurted out as if he didn't realize he was talking out loud.
They all laughed.
Even Gemma.
And Hayley knew her daughter would find it in her heart to forgive her overly helpful uncle.
But that still didn't solve the problem of her daughter's broken heart.
Or the identity of Ivy Foster's killer.
Island Food & Spirits by Hayley Powell
The other night, while sipping a delicious summer lemonade cocktail I had just made, Mona stopped by and gave me a basket full of lemons from the tree in her yard. She usually handed them out to her customers at her seafood shop, but this week she had picked too many so I benefited from her leftovers. I decided to whip up a lemon tart, always a summer party favorite.
I ran out to the garage to grab a couple of boxes of puff pastry that I always keep on hand in my chest freezer. Much to my surprise, the garage was spotless. I usually moan and groan at the messy piles of junk, but today it looked downright orderly. That certainly wasn't the case a couple of months ago.
Last winter I was forced to have a new roof put on the garage when an unfortunate pileup of snow on the old roof caused it to cave in. So, with a sturdy new roof, my kids deemed the garage a suitable place for them to toss all of their unwanted old toys, books, games, bags of clothes, and anything else they didn't want in their rooms but refused to throw away. This was on top of the already stored bikes, rollerblades, sleds, wagons, and skis that were piled up in there.
I would be lying if I didn't admit I was also at fault for the packed garage. I had some boxes of clothes I swore I'd fit into soon stacked in the corner, some stray kitchen items I didn't have room for in my cupboards, and even a pink treadmill. Yes, pink. I know. I know. But it was one of those New Year's resolutions to get back into shape that faded by mid-January and by then I resented having to look at the spontaneous expensive purchase so I had Aaron help me haul it to the garage so I wouldn't have to look at it. The garage was in such utter chaos there wasn't even room for me to park my car when I got home from work one night. Apparently, Dustin and his friend Spanky had been looking for some of his old superhero action figures and left them in the middle of the garage floor, so I had to park outside to avoid crushing Superman and Green Lantern.
This was the last straw. I marched into the house where my two cherubs were flopped on the couch in the living room watching Doctor Who with snack wrappers and juice bottles strewn all around them. I told them in no uncertain terms that if they ever wanted to see their friends again—if they ever wanted to have any kind of social life outside of the house before they finished high school—they would spend their entire Saturday cleaning out the garage. I had plans to drive up to Bangor with Mona to stock up on some bulk food times (plus we set aside some time to gamble at Hollywood Slots, but I left out that tiny detail while yelling at the kids) and the garage was to be in tip top shape when I returned. I would rent a large garbage bin for the junk and the rest we would donate to Goodwill.
The following morning, the kids got out of bed at the crack of dawn and began carrying out boxes from the garage without argument. Sometimes, a firm hand is exactly what is needed. Mona and I left for Bangor, and by lunchtime we had all our shopping done and were enjoying a couple of hours of mental therapy playing the slot machines.
Unfortunately the noise of the slot machines sometimes drowns out my ringing cell phone, so when Mona and I finished for the day I noticed I had eight missed calls from Liddy. I rang her right back and without even saying hello she immediately started scolding me for not being upfront with her about hating the handpicked hat she had bought me during her trip to Paris last year, and that the polite thing to have done was to at least keep it as a souvenir since God only knows when I would be getting to Paris in the near future. I stood there listening to her tirade.
“Liddy, you've lost me. I have no idea what you're talking about!”
“Your yard sale!”
“What yard sale?”
“Don't you check your Facebook and Twitter feeds? It's all over social media. There was a yard sale at your house from 9 to 3 today.”
Gemma and Dustin.
“I happened to swing by the Shop 'n Save to pick up a few necessities,” Liddy said.
Wine and cheese, no doubt.
“And I ran into Mrs. Crowley and she was wearing a deep purple felt French hat with a lovely peacock feather sticking out the side. Of course I recognized it immediately! I knew it had to be the one I bought specially for you because I know for a fact old Mrs. Crowley hasn't been past Bangor in her seventy-odd years! That's when she told me she bought it at your yard sale for twenty bucks! Twenty bucks! The box it came in is worth more than that!”
After hanging up with Liddy, Mona and I raced back to the island, passing a small dark blue Toyota Tacoma truck with a bright pink treadmill in the back. My treadmill!
Mona and I glanced at each other, and she hit the gas a little harder as we careened down Spring Street toward Glen Mary Road. I had to admit to myself, I was happy to see that pink treadmill go.
I couldn't believe my eyes when we pulled up to the house. The garage door was wide open and it looked so neat and orderly I thought we had pulled into the wrong driveway!
Well, as much as I wanted to be mad at my kids for selling our property without telling me, I was actually relieved to finally be able to move around in my garage. Plus, the three hundred bucks we split three ways was an added bonus.
Liddy showed up with the purple hat with the peacock feather. I feared she might have wrestled it away from Mrs. Crowley, but she said she paid her thirty dollars for it so the old woman was content with a ten dollar profit. I had to fake my gratitude that she got my hat back even though I knew I would never wear it and it would be sold in the next yard sale.
I fixed us girls some lemonade cocktails and we sat on the deck enjoying the evening view of my spiffy clean garage.
 
 
Summer Lemonade Cocktail
 
Ingredients:
2 cups club soda
½ cup citrus vodka
½ cup fresh lemon juice
¼ cup sugar
¼ cup orange juice
Ice
Lemon slices to garnish (optional)
 
Put ice in glasses; mix together all five ingredients in a pitcher. Pour in ice filled glasses. Garnish with lemon slices if desired and sit back, relax and bottoms up!
 
 
Lemon Tart
 
Ingredients:
1 sheet puff pastry
2 lemons
Zest of 2 lemons
¾ cup sugar
4 tablespoons butter
2 eggs
¼ lemon juice (from the 2 lemons)
Pinch of salt
 
Preheat your oven to 450 degrees.
Place your rolled out puff pastry on a parchment lined baking sheet. Fold all sides of pastry in one inch and prick all over with a fork. Bake 20 minutes or until golden brown.
In a food processor add your sugar and the zest of two lemons and pulse until finely minced.
In a bowl cream your butter then add the lemon and sugar mixture, add eggs one at a time mixing in each one, add lemon juice and salt and mix well.
Pour into a 2 quart sauce pan and heat on low until thickened, stirring constantly.
When thickened place into the refrigerator for 1 hour to cool.
Spread cooled mixture on top of the cooked puff pastry slice and serve for a delicious summer treat.
BOOK: Death of a Cupcake Queen
12.91Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

More Cats in the Belfry by Tovey, Doreen
Jo Beverley - [Malloren 02] by Tempting Fortune
The Healing Place by Leigh Bale
The God Warriors by Sean Liebling
Behind Dead Eyes by Howard Linskey
Not To Us by Katherine Owen
Don't Say A Word by Barbara Freethy
Ambush by Short, Luke;