Death of a Christmas Caterer (16 page)

Chapter 26

Hayley was up early the next morning to whip up a batch of her spicy gingerbread cookies, which she planned to deliver to the nurses at the Bar Harbor Hospital during her lunch break. She wasn't overcome all of a sudden by the holiday spirit. No, it was a far more calculated act of generosity. The rumor around town was that Nurse Tilly McVety, who just happened to work the day shift, had been in recent months casually dating local handyman Billy Parsons. Therefore, this would be the perfect opportunity for Hayley to pump Tilly for information.

Hayley downed three cups of coffee upon her arrival at the office and tore through her in-box at record speed to get her work done so there would be no reason for her to have to work through lunch. She hid the plate of cookies underneath her desk, tucking them away from those untrustworthy reporters, whose stomachs always began grumbling before noon, which inevitably led to them scavenging for any snacks lying around. Hayley was determined they would not get their grubby hands on her cookies.

When the fire department blew the noon whistle, Hayley gathered up her tote bag and plate of cookies and called back to Sal, alerting him that she was taking an early lunch. She then drove straight to the hospital.

When she arrived at the nurses' station, she was surprised to find the hospital staff and a few elderly patients, who had been wheeled out of their rooms, drinking a candy cane punch and gorging on an assortment of Christmas-tree-decorated cupcakes, white-chocolate star-shaped pretzels, and powdered doughnut snowman treats. Hayley's spicy gingerbread cookies didn't seem quite so special anymore.

Nurse Tilly McVety was manning the punch bowl and ladling the creamy pink punch into plastic cups and handing them out to everyone. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Hayley approaching. “You've got to try some, Hayley. I made it myself from a recipe I found online. It's so delicious. The only ingredient I left out was the rum because we're on duty. Although I suspect Mr. Pinkett over there has a flask tucked in the pocket of his bathrobe—he's almost mowed down three orderlies with his wheelchair already!”

Hayley spied Mr. Pinkett, an apple-cheeked, glassy-eyed, merry-looking eighty-year-old with a skeletal frame and wisps of white hair sticking up from his head, leering at the backside of a nurse passing by and then rolling his wheelchair after her.

“No, thanks, Tilly. I just came by to bring . . .”

Too late. Tilly had already poured her a cup.

Resigned, Hayley took a sip.

Tilly wasn't lying. It was so yummy that Hayley resisted the urge just to pick up the punch bowl and drink directly from it. Instead she set her plate of cookies down next to the other Christmas treats.

“That's so sweet of you, Hayley. How did you know we were having a little Christmas party on the ward today for the patients?”

“Actually, I didn't. I wanted to bring you something as a token of my appreciation for how well you treated Lex when he was here, because I know he was a handful—”

“You didn't have to do that, Hayley.”

“Oh, it's no trouble—”

“No, really, Lex already brought flowers and chocolates and balloons this morning and made a big heartfelt speech apologizing for any anxiety his behavior may have caused the nursing staff. He's right over there.”

Hayley twisted around to see Lex, hobbling around on crutches, popping a white-chocolate pretzel into his mouth as he chatted with a few of the younger, fawning nurses, who were beaming and giggling and hanging on his every word. Hayley had blown right past without even noticing him when she had gotten off the elevator. He had definitely seen her. He nodded and winked at her as she stared at him and then went back to his conversation.

Hayley swung around again as Tilly handed another cup of punch to Mr. Pinkett , who blew her a kiss before wheeling away to a corner and reaching into the pocket of his ratty blue bathrobe for his secret stash.

“Any big plans for the holidays, Tilly?”

“Working a double shift on Christmas Eve,” Tilly said with a sigh. “And Christmas Day I will probably spend fighting with my mother, who will have too much to drink and say something to make my sister cry, and then I'll come to my sister's defense and she'll start yelling at me, too, and then my brother will have to intervene and my mother will make a point of announcing he was always her favorite. Happens every family holiday. Good times.”

“Well, look on the bright side. At least you have a special guy to ring in New Year's with,” Hayley said.

“My, word does get around. Somebody told you about me and Billy?” Tilly cooed, eyelashes flapping, swooning to the point where she almost tipped over.

“My brother owns a bar. I hear everything. Billy's a real catch,” Hayley said. “I'm so happy for you.”

“Well, it's only been a few months and I don't want to jinx it by talking about it too much, but so far it's been heavenly. Billy is sweet and kind, and he treats me like the Duchess of Cambridge, who is my personal hero, by the way.”

“Because of her charity work?”

“No. Her fashion sense.”

Hayley chose to let that one go.

The phone in the nurses' station rang and Tilly scooped up the receiver. “Ward three. Nurse McVety speaking.”

She hoisted her index finger up to indicate to Hayley she would just be a second.

“Yes?” Tilly asked, her face darkening as the person on the other end of the line spoke.

“How dare you call me at work and say such things! Yes, there is a logical explanation, but I am not about to waste my breath explaining it to you!” Tilly seethed, slamming down the phone. “Good Lord, Hayley, how do you put up with that muckraking bastard on a daily basis?”

Hayley knew Tilly would never tell anything to a surly, self-important, aggressively confrontational crime reporter.

But a friendly gal pal who just happened to drop by with spicy gingerbread cookies? Hayley was counting on it.

“Really, Hayley, he is so smug and off-putting!”

“You don't have to tell me, Tilly,” Hayley said.

“He implied that Billy ran away scared because he had something to do with the Garth Rawlings murder. That is ludicrous! Billy is the kind of guy who uses a newspaper to pick up a spider and take it outside instead of stomping on it—which is what I would do, because they give me the willies.”

“Oh, I didn't know Billy left town,” Hayley said, trying hard to be convincing.

“Yes. This morning. I probably should have told Bruce the truth, but he just made me so mad! Now he's going to write whatever he damn well pleases and make it seem like Billy was somehow involved.”

“Where is Billy?” Hayley asked nonchalantly, just a casual question from a curious friend.

“He drove to Newburyport.”

“Massachusetts?”

“Uh-huh. He got a temporary job on a shrimping boat, just for a few days. He told me he wanted to earn some extra money so he could buy his special girl something nice for Christmas. Isn't that adorable? I told him I didn't need anything, but he wouldn't listen.”

“So he'll be back in time for Christmas?”

“Of course.”

Billy could have lied to her and just come up with the Massachusetts job as an excuse so Tilly wouldn't suspect he was actually escaping from the authorities before they closed in on him and secured the evidence needed to arrest and indict him.

Hayley knew it would be pointless to run Tilly's explanation by Bruce Linney. He would just automatically assume the worst and discard her story as pure fiction. A simple lie told by a duplicitous boyfriend who needed to get out of town. She knew once Bruce locked on a suspect he would relentlessly pound the facts to fit his theory. The actual truth became secondary.

Tilly stood up and pulled an iPhone out of the pocket of the white knit sweater she was wearing over her nurse's uniform. “I almost forgot. I promised to take pictures for the hospital's Facebook page.” Tilly scooted out from behind the nurses' station and snapped away.

Hayley decided to peruse the sweets selection before heading back to the office. As she zeroed in on one of the cupcakes, Lex teetered over to her, still trying to get used to his crutches.

“I thought I spied your famous spicy gingerbread cookies. You know I can't resist them.”

Hayley smiled, picked up the plate, and held it out for him to take one.

She watched as he bit into the cookie, closing his eyes and savoring the taste.

Suddenly Mr. Pinkett whizzed by in his wheelchair, now drunk and out of control, the side knocking into one of Lex's crutches, which caused Lex to lose his balance. He was about to take a nosedive, but Hayley jumped in under his arm to steady him.

Hayley noticed Tilly capturing the moment with her iPhone.

“You okay?” Hayley asked Lex.

Lex nodded. “Fine. Frustrated. I don't like being laid up like this. I need to get back to work.”

“Count your blessings. After the nasty fall you took, it could have been a whole lot worse.”

Lex's arm was still around Hayley's neck.

She remembered those romantic winter nights when they were dating, evenings spent at the caretaker's house that he lived in on the Hollingsworth estate: the bottle of wine, crackling fire, curling up together on the couch, watching the flames dance. His arm would be around her, just as it was now. Lex had his faults, but so did everybody. No man had ever made her feel so safe and protected. She lost herself for a brief moment, immersing herself in memories of their time together; but then the reality of the situation finally took hold and she called for an orderly to pick up Lex's crutch from the floor and hand it to him. Once he was back holding both crutches, Hayley swiftly slipped out from underneath his arm and backed away, keeping her distance.

It was over.

She was never going back there.

She was with Aaron now.

Aaron.

Not Lex.

Tilly wandered back over to the nurses' station. She was glued to her phone.

Hayley suddenly remembered the photo Tilly took.

“Tilly, do me a favor. Don't post that photo of me and Lex on Facebook, okay?”

“I'm sorry, Hayley. I already posted it. And I tagged you.”

That meant all of Hayley's friends would see it in their newsfeed.

Aaron included.

“It already has twenty-seven likes.”

Tilly handed the phone to Hayley.

She looked at all the people who gave the thumbs-up to the photo.

Her heart sank.

Right near the top was Aaron Palmer.

It wasn't as if he actually liked the photo.

He was sending a message that he had seen it.

Chapter 27

The night of the Congregational Church's Nativity pageant finally arrived. By the time Hayley made it home to shower and change, Gemma had already left for a late-afternoon tech rehearsal. Dustin was attending the show with a group of friends and was having a quick bite beforehand at Pat's Pizza. The temperature outside had dropped to the low thirties, so Hayley slipped a heavy draped violet cardigan over her white blouse after blow-drying her hair. She heard loud honking in her driveway and dashed down the stairs and outside, waving at Liddy, who was perched in the driver's seat of her Mercedes and impatiently checking her watch.

They had arranged to meet Mona at the church, and found her already standing on the steps waiting for them as they pulled into the church parking lot. Of course Mona was on time. She was probably a half hour early—any excuse to take a break from her high-energy kids, who demanded her constant attention. That's why Mona loved her job so much. The grueling work of hauling lobster traps on the high seas was like a vacation compared to what awaited her at home.

“Randy and Sergio are saving us seats in a pew down front,” Mona said as Hayley and Liddy scurried toward her from the parking lot.

“I want to go backstage first and wish Gemma luck,” Hayley said making a beeline for the side door, which led to the church's parlor, where tea and coffee were served after services. Tonight it was being used as the backstage area for the cast and choir.

“Well, I'm going to go make sure I'm not stuck sitting behind Doris Sanborn, who is so fond of those ridiculously big, floppy, floral hats,” Liddy scoffed. “Last fall she came into the Criterion Theatre and sat directly in front of me during that Ben Affleck
Gone Girl
movie and I couldn't see a damn thing happening on the screen!”

“Well, I'm going with Hayley,” Mona said. “The last thing I want to do is spend the next ten minutes before the curtain goes up listening to you squawk about everything that annoys you.”

“God will get you for that, Mona,” Liddy said, turning on her heel and marching up the steps, where a young teenage usher then handed her a program. Liddy glanced at the cover and howled. “‘
The Birth of Jesus,
Written by Edie Staples'? Are you kidding me? Does she actually believe she came up with the plot and dialogue? She doesn't even give the Bible a coauthor credit!”

Liddy snickered to the stone-faced kid cradling an armful of paper programs, but his lack of reaction just exasperated her and she brushed past him and went inside.

Hayley and Mona entered the parlor to find complete pandemonium. Ten first graders were running around in little sheep costumes. Hayley noticed one rebel kid refused to be a sheep and was dressed as a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle instead, complete with a blue eye mask. Reverend Staples, decked out in the Deluxe Shepherd Costume, which consisted of a full-length blue-gray-and-black-striped robe worn over a white tunic tied with a thin rope belt, complemented by a color-coordinated head garment, tried corralling the rambunctious kids with his tall wooden shepherd's crook. His wife, Edie, the auteur and author, who was apparently unfamiliar with the word “adaptation,” hovered over Gemma's costar Hugo, who was slumped down in a chair in front of a table and mirror. He wore an off-white robe and brown sandals; most of his face was hidden by a shaggy, long beard and wig, which nailed Joseph's signature look. What Hayley could see of his face Edie was busy dabbing with a powder from her makeup kit. Hayley could certainly see Hugo's eyes, however, and they were wide with terror. The poor kid was stricken with a crippling case of stage fright.

“Any sign of Gemma?” Hayley asked as she and Mona glanced around the room. The choir, in their matching maroon robes and yellow sashes, was warming up with “Do-Re-Mi” from
The Sound of Music.
The Three Wise Men, with sparkling gold headpieces and sashes in purple, blue, and green, respectively, were running their lines at the last minute. And local fireman Wilbur White, clad in a long white shirt, wide burlap pants, and sandals, stood at the refreshment table and poured himself a plastic cup of red wine. Then he gulped it down and poured another.

“Who are you supposed to be, Wilbur?” Hayley asked as she and Mona crossed over to him.

“The crusty innkeeper who refuses to give Joseph and Mary a room. It's just one line, but I kept flubbing it in rehearsal. I'm scared of doing it during the performance.”

“You'll be fine. Just save some of the Jesus juice for Sunday's Communion,” Mona said, shaking her head.

“Mom!”

Gemma scooted over to them in full Virgin Mary mode, a baby blue robe flowing behind her as she moved, showing enough leg for them to admire her fetching Adult Goddess sandals. The Deluxe Mocha Brown Divine Wig, which Hayley found at Target, completed the startling transformation. Cradled in her arm was a Baby Jesus plush doll.

“Gemma, honey, you look fantastic!”

“Lot of good that's going to do me if I have no one to act with!” she wailed.

“What do you mean?”

“Hugo poked his head out to see if his cousin Dana made it down from Brunswick. He took one look at the packed house and has been in a catatonic state ever since!”

“I'm sure once he's out on stage, he'll be fine.”

“He threw up on a kid in a camel costume. We had to cut the part from the play because we couldn't get it dry-cleaned in time.”

They all glanced over at Hugo, who was still slouched in the chair, silent and motionless as Edie babbled on in his ear about something.

“Oh, this is going to be a disaster,” Mona said.

Gemma's face fell.

“Mona, you're not helping!” Hayley said before grabbing Gemma by the shoulders. “He likes you, Gemma. You need to keep him calm and tell him everything's going to be all right, and that you two are in this together. If he forgets a line, you'll step in and help him.”

Gemma nodded. “You're right.”

They wandered over to the makeup table and Gemma knelt down, took his hand, and whispered words of encouragement to Hugo. His face relaxed slightly at her mere presence.

“Hayley, Mona, I'm so glad you both could make it to my little production,” Edie said, grinning from ear to ear, before realizing what she had said. “Our production. I mean
our little production.
Opening night! Isn't it exciting?”

“I thought this was a onetime performance,” Hayley said.

“Oh, it is,” Edie said, adjusting the wig on Hugo's head as he squeezed Gemma's hand for support.

“Well, you know what they say about shows that open and close on the same night,” Mona said, chortling.

Edie Staples gave them both a withering stare.

Hayley dug her heel into Mona's shoe as a warning to clam up.

“I'm going to go get Wilbur to share some of his Jesus juice,” Mona said, wandering away to the refreshment table.

“It's Pinot Noir, Mona!” Edie said sharply before turning back to Hayley. “Hayley, knowing you, I'm sure you're right on top of this whole sad Garth Rawlings business.”

Hayley eyed Hugo, who visibly tensed. “It's just one big, puzzling mystery.”

“I should say so!” Edie exclaimed. “I read that the police are saying he was murdered, but they're stumped as to how it happened.”

“That about sums it up.”

“Well, if it
is
murder, I will bet our time-share in Boca Raton that it was that sleazy Ken Massey! Once when the Reverend and I stopped for clam rolls at the Trenton Bridge Lobster Pound, I saw him and Garth fighting like a couple of barnyard dogs.”

Hayley glimpsed over to see Hugo watching her through the mirror in front of him. When they made eye contact, he immediately turned his attention back to Edie, who hadn't noticed he wasn't listening to her.

“Well, there's no denying Garth Rawlings and Ken Massey had a somewhat rocky past, and Ken does have a reputation for being a grade-A jerk,” Hayley said. “But that doesn't necessarily mean he is a killer. Isn't that right, Hugo?”

Hugo let go of Gemma's hand and shifted in his chair uncomfortably.

“I don't know,” he muttered.

“How could the poor boy know anything, Hayley?” Edie said, chuckling. “He barely knows where he is right now.”

“Well, Hugo has made it clear to me that he believes Ken Massey is an innocent man and shouldn't be the subject of such wild accusations.”

“I didn't say that. Like I said, I don't know anything.”

“Mom . . . ,” Gemma said, clenching her teeth, her eyes pleading with her mother to stop.

Hayley chose to bow to her daughter's wishes.

She could talk to Hugo after the show.

But Edie Staples was not so inclined.

She loved juicy gossip and dubious speculation.

Even moments before the curtains rose on her long-awaited Nativity play.

“Is that true, Hugo?” Edie asked, suddenly intrigued. “Do you think someone else killed Garth Rawlings?”

Hugo's eyes darted back and forth, searching for some escape from this distressing conversation. “Would you please just leave me out of this? How should I know who shot him?”

Hayley opened her mouth to speak, but Edie beat her to it.

“The coroner never said a word about Garth Rawlings being shot, Hugo. At least not in the papers. Where are you getting that information from?”

Hugo stood up, panicked. His hands were shaking.

“Places, everyone!” Reverend Staples bellowed as he finished gathering the adorable sheep in a flock around the shepherds and cued the choir. The choir members, their hymnals held up in front of them, filed out of the parlor, one by one, and into the church, singing.

“‘O little town of Bethlehem, how still we see thee lie. . . .'”

Hayley and Edie kept their eyes glued on Hugo.

Gemma gently placed a hand on Hugo's arm. “Can we please discuss this after the show?”

And then Hugo had a full-on freak-out.

He shook off Gemma's hand and bolted out the parlor side door and into the night, leaving Reverend and Mrs. Staples without their leading man.

Joseph had left the building.