Authors: Lee Hollis

Death of a Chocoholic (15 page)

BOOK: Death of a Chocoholic

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Chapter 31

Hayley knew she couldn't call Sergio to rustle up a warrant in order to get a peek at Bessie's life insurance policy at Grand Future Insurance. Mostly because there was no active murder investigation at this point, and the police, the coroner, and the entire town were still convinced Bessie's heart just gave out.

So if Bessie had kept a copy of her policy, it would most likely still be inside the house somewhere.

And Hayley still had the key.

Her previous search was cut short by Mary Garber calling the police, so she knew she had to be more careful this time, and not be spotted by a nosy neighbor or passerby.

Hayley parked her car at the far end of the street and sat there, engine idling, watching the neighborhood, waiting for her opportunity to slip inside Bessie's house undetected.

She was there about ten minutes when Mary Garber slammed out of her house, cupping her hands and blowing into them to keep warm before climbing into her Jeep Cherokee. It took a few tries before the Jeep's engine sputtered to life. Mary backed out of the driveway and passed Hayley's car, not even noticing her. Mary's eyes were clear and focused, which was unusual, since most of the time she was blistering drunk. Hayley thought perhaps she might be on a mission to the liquor store.

Hayley got out of her car and scurried down the street to Bessie's house. She plucked the key from her pocket and inserted it into the lock; but when she turned the knob, the door creaked open.

The house was already unlocked.

Hayley guardedly stepped inside, trying not to make any sound; she looked around.

The house appeared to be just as she had last seen it.

Like a bomb had hit it.

Lots of clutter and that unrelenting odor.

Hayley glanced around. She had done a pretty thorough sweep of the downstairs and Bessie's bedroom before she got caught by Sergio.

But she never made it to that upstairs storage closet.

She slowly walked up the steps, past the closed door to Bessie's bedroom, before stopping at the hallway closet.

She opened it and a stack of cookbooks and stuffed file folders came tumbling down off the top shelf, nearly burying Hayley alive.

She got down on her knees and started sifting through all the strewn junk. Mostly copied old fan letters to Bessie's childhood idol, Julia Child, and more current kitchen masters like that grouchy, loud Gordon Ramsay and that cackling, butter-loving Paula Deen.

And then there were recipes.

Scores of scraps of paper where Bessie scribbled new spins on old-time favorites, like bread pudding and lemon squares.

After a few minutes of sorting through the different folders, Hayley happened upon one unlabeled folder stuffed with reams of paper.

She fanned through it.

An overdue fire insurance premium.

A last warning for her car insurance payment.

This had to be it.

Hayley kept skimming through the papers. The bank threatening to foreclose on her house if she didn't pay her mortgage.

A letter to her health insurance company begging them to reduce her co-payment for her heart medication.

About halfway through the stack, Hayley identified the logo for Grand Future Insurance.

She speedily read through the five pages stapled together.

It was definitely the policy Nina was talking about.

Near the bottom of the last page, the name “Tawnia Wentworth” was listed as the primary beneficiary.

Tawnia Wentworth.

Why did Hayley know that name?

Of course!

Tawnia was sixteen years old and in Gemma's class in high school. She lived with her mother, Nancy, who was divorced from Rand Winthrop, Bessie's estranged brother. Rand had blown town years ago when Tawnia was not even three years old because he felt stifled by the responsibilities of marriage and fatherhood. Hayley last heard he was working on a dude ranch in Wyoming.

Bessie despised her brother for deserting his young family and never spoke to him again, but she always had a soft spot for her niece, Tawnia, even though the two rarely saw each other.

That would make perfect sense.

But Nancy had a good job and was saving her money so Tawnia could go to college. Hayley found it hard to believe that Tawnia or her mother would commit such a heinous act over some insurance money. They may not have even been aware of the policy.

Hayley suddenly heard a thumping sound coming from the bedroom.

Her ears perked up and she knelt there on the floor, frozen.

Was someone else in the house?

The last time when she and Sergio left, Hayley distinctly remembered leaving the bedroom door open. Now it was closed.

A voice inside her was screaming,
“Get the hell out!”

And for once, she decided to listen.

Hayley slowly stood up and moved silently down the hall toward the stairs. She was just about halfway there when the door to the bedroom swung open and a hulking man, twice Hayley's size, stepped out into the hallway, his back to her, and peered down the staircase.

He was wearing a black ski mask, black sweater, and jeans; he was listening to hear if Hayley had gone, not realizing she was now standing right behind him.

Hayley stood, terror-stricken, not daring to move a muscle.

The giant man craned his neck to get a glimpse of the foyer, which was empty. He relaxed a bit, assuming she was gone, and then turned around to head back to the bedroom.

He stopped in his tracks, thunderstruck.

The sight of the Herculean-size, masked thug dressed in black was so spine-chilling, Hayley didn't know what else to do but let out a bloodcurdling scream.

The masked man just stood there in shock for a moment, before regaining his senses and lunging at her, with muscled arms outstretched to grab her.

Hayley tried to dodge his grasp, but his massive frame blocked any room for escape. He wrapped his arms around her and picked her up off the floor, tucking her underneath one arm and jamming a meaty palm over her face to silence her screams as he carried her into the bedroom.

Hayley struggled, but she was like a newborn baby, completely helpless in his superhuman grip.

Hayley reached up with her fist and started pounding his left arm, but the muscles were so tight that he barely felt a thing. She grabbed at the sleeve of his black shirt and the fabric tore slightly, revealing a T-shaped scar on his left bicep. Before she could examine it further, the mountainous prowler let go of her mouth and opened the bedroom closet door. He tossed Hayley inside.

She hit the wall hard, and then dropped to the floor, taking down two dozen of Bessie's colorful muumuus and dresses, which were hanging on the rack.

The door slammed shut, enveloping Hayley in darkness, and then the intruder pushed something up hard against the closet, probably lodging the back of a chair underneath the knob to trap Hayley inside.

She heard him pounding away.

Hayley threw her shoulder against the door like a battering ram.

Once.

Twice.

Third time was the charm.

The chair gave way and Hayley stumbled out of the closet to freedom.

But by the time she managed to race down the stairs to the open front door, she knew the man was long gone.

Already halfway back to his beanstalk.

Chapter 32

“Oh, my God, that's so cool!” Tawnia Wentworth squealed as she shoveled air-popped popcorn into her mouth, while sitting at Hayley's kitchen table. Tawnia was dressed in baby blue sweats and a t-shirt with the teen pop princes New Direction emblazoned on it. “I mean, it's not cool that poor Aunt Bessie died, but that she was nice enough to make me the benefactory or whatever.”

“Beneficiary,” Gemma said, forcing a smile.

“So you had no idea you were named in Bessie's life insurance policy?”

“No! I would've been a lot nicer to her if I'd known!” Tawnia said, grabbing the saltshaker and dousing the remaining kernels in the green mixing bowl in front of her. “We hardly saw each other. She'd stop by around Christmas and give me a present, usually a gift card for Amazon or iTunes, which was so sweet of her. And when I was in the chorus of last fall's musical,
Pippin,
she was nice enough to show up at a Sunday matinee performance and give me a box of her icky chocolates, which I promptly threw away because I don't need to be getting fat like her.”

Tawnia noticed both Hayley and Gemma looking aghast, so she quickly added, “God rest her soul.”

Hayley stole a glance toward Gemma and mouthed “Thank you” as Tawnia dove into the bowl and scraped up the last bits of popcorn and licked them off her fingers.

Gemma nodded at her mother and then picked up the empty bowl. “I'll put another bag in the microwave.”

“I'm so happy you called me to come over tonight, Gemma,” Tawnia said before chugging down a glass of chocolate milk. “I mean, we rarely hang out anymore, now that we move in different social circles. It's nice to catch up.”

“We're so overdue,” Gemma said, her back to them, the obvious sarcasm lost on Tawnia.

But certainly not on her mother.

“So I take it Nancy didn't know about the insurance policy either?” Hayley asked.

“Mom? Are you kidding? If she had, she would've knocked off Bessie herself and bought the new Camry she's been squawking about wanting the past few months,” Tawnia said, cackling, before catching herself again and forcing her face into a frown. “Poor, poor Bessie.”

“So you hadn't seen her since Christmas?” Hayley asked, refilling Tawnia's glass with more chocolate milk from a plastic carton.

“Nope. She was so busy trying to start her business. No, wait. There was that one time right after New Year's when she called to ask if I would be willing to feed her cats for a couple of days while she went to New York to meet with some Food Network executives.”

“She had a meeting with the Food Network?”

“Oh, God, no, but every so often she'd scrape together some money and take a bus trip down there and hang around out in front of the building, hoping to run into one of her idols, who might be willing to help her get her foot in the door. Yes, she was totally delusional.”

“So you helped her out?”

“Yuck! Of course not! My mother wouldn't let me step one foot inside that house with all those nasty, disease-ridden cats. Gross! I told her no. No offense, Blackberry,” Tawnia said to Blueberry, who walked past her, tail swishing.

Tawnia reached down to pet him, but Blueberry hissed and Tawnia quickly retracted her fingers.

“Was Bessie upset you refused to help her?” Hayley asked.

“She was at first, but then she got distracted. Apparently, someone was looking at her through her windows. At first, I thought she was just making it up. I mean, seriously, what kind of Peeping Tom would want to look at Aunt Bessie?”

The popcorn began popping like machine-gun fire.

Gemma stood close to the microwave, grateful that the loud noise was drowning out Tawnia's voice.

“But then Aunt Bessie saw who it was and she got really, really scared.”

“Who was it?”

“Her creepy ex.”

“Wolf Conway?”

“Yeah, him. What a loser. I mean, spying on Aunt Bessie? It's not like she's a Kardashian!”

“Did she open the door and confront him?”

“I don't know. I got bored and hung up.”

Gemma opened the microwave door, ripped open the bag, and poured the contents into the green bowl. She walked back over to the table and put it down in front of Tawnia, who immediately scooped out a fistful and crammed it into her mouth.

“But my mother told me she had run into Bessie in the grocery store, and Bessie had told her that she had to take a restraining order out on Wolf because he wouldn't leave her alone. But that didn't stop him from showing up on her doorstep all the time. She told Mom she was really frightened that he might do something to her. He had a vicious temper, just like Aunt Bessie.”

“Did your mother call the police?”

“No. Why?”

“She was family,” Gemma said, trying not to slap Tawnia across the face. “Bessie was in danger.”

“My daddy ditched us over twelve years ago. Mom was so mad she even made me change my last name to Wentworth, which is her maiden name. She was so done with him! She said his kooky sister is not our problem,” Tawnia said coldly, before noticing the judgmental looks from Hayley and Gemma. “But, seriously, I'm sorry she's dead and all.”

“Yeah, bummer about those iTunes gift certificates,” Gemma said.

There was an uncomfortable silence as Tawnia realized she didn't know her audience. She slurped some more chocolate milk and then stood up from the table. “Well, I'm going to go upstairs and put some makeup on in case a couple of cute boys show up outside and throw pebbles at the window while we're doing each other's hair later.”

“I'm sorry, Tawnia, but we're not going to model this slumber party after the one in
Grease,”
Gemma said.

“It's always been my fantasy having boys show up to whisk me away for a night of beer drinking and making out.”

“Well, it's going to remain a fantasy, as long as you're here under my roof,” Hayley said.

“I know!” Tawnia cackled. “Putting on makeup was just an excuse anyway. I'm actually going upstairs to call my mother and tell her we're going to be rich!”

Tawnia grabbed some more popcorn, then thought better of it, and tossed it back before picking up the entire bowl and running up the stairs.

“I'm so, so sorry, honey,” Hayley said.

“What for? Oh, you mean strong-arming me into inviting that hideous girl over here for a sleepover just so you could pump her for information?”

“Boy, it really does sound bad when you put it that way.”

Gemma grinned. “Don't sweat it. I was happy to do it. I liked Bessie. She was always very sweet to me when she saw me. Constantly offering me some of her candy. I kind of miss her. And if you think there's more to her death than what people are saying, then I say more power to you.”

Hayley sat back in her chair, floored by her daughter's sudden mood change. “Who are you? And what have you done with my daughter?”

“I know I've been a little difficult latelyâ”

“Climbing Mount Everest is difficult. You've been a nightmare.”

“Okay, don't make me sound so horrible. It's just . . .”

“What, Gemma?”

Her eyes welled up with tears and she turned away.

Hayley put a comforting arm around her shoulder. “What? You can tell me.”

“It's stupid.”

“Nothing that upsets you like this is stupid, okay?”

“Next year I'm going to be a senior and then I'm going to graduate. . . .”

“And then you'll go to college. I know.”

“All my friends, they already know what they want to do. Carrie Weston is going to go to Boston College and then law school. Kendra's going to be a teacher. Everyone's always asking me, âWhat are you going to do?' or âWhat do you want to be?' I just draw a blank, because I don't know.”

“There's no rush, honey. It's okay not to know.”

“But I feel like I'm way behind everybody else.”

“Your grades are fine.”

“No, I have no idea what I want. And I'm afraid that when the time comes, and all my friends go off to college, I still won't know, and I'll be stuck here forever!”

Gemma sobbed and Hayley hugged her tightly. “It's going to be okay. Trust me. You'll figure it out.”

Gemma tried desperately to stop crying. She was a very dramatic kid at times, but she tended to curb her real emotions, keep up a brave front, like nothing bothered her. So this moment had to have been building up inside her for a while now, to the point where she could no longer control it.

“You're a good kid, a smart kid. You impress me every day. I'm not the least bit worried that when the time comes, you'll know which direction to take. And if it doesn't work out, then you go in another direction. Life is one big map. You like visiting some places better than others. But the most important thing to remember is that it's about the journey, not the destination.”

“That's a pretty good speech, Mom,” Gemma said, wiping her eyes.

“Believe me, I just pulled it out of my butt. This mothering thing didn't come with a manual.”

Gemma giggled.

“And, hey, look on the bright side. What's the worst-case scenario? You live with me the rest of your life and we grow old together.”

Gemma wailed.

But she was faking it.

Mother and daughter exchanged smirks and then convulsed with laughter.

Hayley hadn't felt this good in a long time.

Island Food & Spirits by Hayley Powell

Last night after cooking dinner for the kids, I collapsed in my comfy chair with a glass of wine. (Okay, in the interest of full disclosure, I brought the whole bottle with me; but to be fair, it had been a really stressful day.) I closed my eyes and sipped my wine, grateful for a moment's peace. That's when the phone rang. It was Liddy, who was dying to tell me some new gossip.

My son, Dustin, is an expert at ambushing me when I am at my most vulnerable. Dead tired. Drinking wine. Hearing juicy dirt. How could I possibly focus on anything else? He rattled on about the money he got from his grandmother for Christmas, and how he wanted to spend it on a new video game. There was a big sale at the Bangor Mall on Saturday, and this was his one and only chance to buy the game he wanted. I nodded and waved him away, not really hearing all the details.

So I paid for my lack of concentration the following Saturday in the wee hours of the morning, around seven, when Dustin charged into my bedroom and began shaking me to get up and dressed so we could make the one-hour drive to Bangor before the stores in the mall opened. I simply stared at him. The Bangor Mall on a Saturday? Packed with crowds of obnoxious teenagers and screaming babies? Was he serious?

Apparently he was. “A deal's a deal,” he wailed. I knew there was no getting out of it. Note to self:
No more wine after dinner.
I always end up paying for it with days like these.

Dustin invited his best buddy, Spanky, to tag along, which was a godsend. Spanky could keep Dustin company while he picked out his video and then they could hang at the Game Zone while I snuck away to shop for a scarf and sweater to update my work wardrobe.

After arriving at the mall, I told the boys to meet me at the food court in two hours. After some whining and shuffling of the feet, they agreed. Nothing in the stores caught my eye and I got bored pretty quickly. It had only been thirty minutes. I still had another hour and a half before I was scheduled to rendezvous with the boys.

I was thirsty, so I headed over to the food court to buy something to drink. The smell of freshly baked pizza was overpowering. I found myself purchasing a large slice of meat-stuffed pizza, along with my bottle of water. I set my tray down on a table to eat and started people watching.

I began noticing a lot of young couples who had small children in strollers; they were all dressed to the nines in matching colors. Who has the time to coordinate outfits perfectly like that? They were like Stepford families, and they reminded me of all those popular kids in high school who spent hours on the phone discussing what to wear so they would match and stand out as a clique. I glanced down at my ratty jeans and pink t-shirt that said
SAVE THE TA
-TA'S, which was a gift from Mona last fall when we participated in the Breast Cancer Walkathon. I felt so uncool.

As I munched on my pizza, I watched some mothers and daughters pass by. The mothers were dressed younger than their kids: miniskirts, thigh-high boots, shiny lip gloss. Gemma would never forgive me if I wore an outfit like that! And they were trashing a friend who wasn't there to defend herself, just laughing and making fun of her. Like overgrown mean girls.

I had to get away from that bad energy. So I got up and walked over to the pretzel cart and purchased a bag of warm salty pretzel nuggets and a cheddar-cheese dipping sauce. A family of five wandered past me. Every single one of them was wearing camouflage hunting jackets and scowls on their faces. They were like those rebellious kids who hate school and spend most of their time congregating outside in the smoking area.

After the salty pretzels, I craved something sweet. I made my way through the crowd to the DQ and ordered a large hot-fudge sundae. That's when it hit me. Shopping at the mall was just like being at high school with all the various cliques, groups of outsiders, popular kids, etc.

“Mom!” Dustin yelled, interrupting my reverie. He and Spanky were staring at me, wide-eyed. “What?” I said. Dustin gestured at the table where I was sitting with a sweep of his arm. I suddenly realized it was littered with pizza crust, two empty water bottles, pretzel crumbs, dollops of cheese dip, crumpled napkins, and a half-eaten ice-cream sundae. Chocolate fudge sauce was dripping down the front of my pink t-shirt. I realized at that moment I was still that same girl in high school too: the one who could always be found sitting in the school cafeteria, eating, people watching, and usually dripping something on her clothes. Some things just never change.

That night my embarrassed son deigned to forgive me, but only because I stopped at the grocery store on the way home and bought the ingredients for homemade hot-fudge sundaes, which I served to him while he played his brand-new video game. I left him to his fun so I could relax with a new, adults-only cocktail I made with the leftover chocolate syrup.

Ultra Alexander

Ingredients

2 ounces brandy
2 ounces crÃ¨me de cacao
1 tablespoon whipping cream
1 tablespoon chocolate syrup

Fill your cocktail shaker with ice. Add the brandy, crÃ¨me de cacao, whipping cream, and chocolate syrup. Shake, strain, and serve in a glass.

Hayley's Hot-Fudge Sauce

Ingredients

1Â½ cups granulated sugar
Â½ cup brown sugar
Â¾ cup cocoa
Â¼ cup all-purpose flour
Â½ teaspoon salt
1 can evaporated milk (14 ounces)
1 cup water
2 tablespoons butter
2 teaspoons vanilla

Combine the sugar, cocoa, flour, and salt in a saucepan. Add the milk, water, and butter. Cook over medium heat, cool, then stir in the vanilla.

Top over your favorite ice cream and add your favorite toppings.

BOOK: Death of a Chocoholic

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