Death of a Chocoholic (16 page)

Hayley tried to ignore the intoxicating smell of sizzling bacon on the flat grill as she stood behind a hulking brute in a stained white wife-beater shirt and ratty jeans.

“I'm not leaving until you talk to me, Wolf.” Hayley had managed to track down Bessie's loutish ex-boyfriend Wolf Conway at the newly renovated Starfish Diner on Main Street, just a few hundred feet from the town pier.

According to her sources—okay, Mona, who took her entire brood there earlier in the week for their signature eggs Benedict—Wolf was the new cook for the breakfast and lunch shift. Mona was certain it was Wolf because she got into an argument with him over her undercooked side of sausage. They nearly came to blows before the owner, Cindy Callahan, stepped in to defuse the escalating situation by comping Mona's meal.

Cindy was a former Delta Airlines flight attendant and recent divorcée who took her ex-husband's settlement money and bought the flailing diner. She gave it a much-needed face-lift. She launched her grand opening on the Fourth of July, and quickly drew in a lot of tourists and cruise ship passengers. Now during the bleak winter months, business had slowed considerably, though Cindy was determined to stay open year-round.

When her cook left her high and dry in early February to follow a strapping marine, whom she had met at Drinks Like A Fish, back to his base in warm Florida, Cindy was desperate. Apparently, she knew all about Wolf's run-ins with the law and his unsettling reputation, but the big oaf could fry an egg. Also, as a newly single woman in her late thirties, Cindy appreciated Wolf's muscles, which glistened with sweat from the kitchen heat and flexed so impressively when he used the spatula to flip pancakes.

The restaurant was nearly empty when Hayley arrived, so Cindy was kind enough to allow Hayley to have a word with her employee. Unfortunately, Wolf wasn't nearly as accommodating. With his back to Hayley, he simply chose to ignore her.

“I'm not here to cause you any trouble, Wolf. I just want to talk to you.”

Wolf picked up a large knife and began dicing an onion and a green pepper for an omelette.

“There are no customers in the diner, Wolf. I know you're just making that omelette so you don't have to talk to me.”

He kept chopping.

Faster.

Angrier.

“Okay. Would you at least explain why Bessie felt the need to take out a restraining order against you?”

Wolf stopped for a moment.

Gripped the knife more tightly.

Then kept chopping.

He used the knife to scrape the bits of onion and green pepper onto the flat grill. Then he grabbed a tomato and started violently slicing it.

“She told her ex-sister-in-law that she was scared of you and she was afraid of what you might do to her. And now she's dead.”

Wolf spun around, brandishing the sharp knife, pointing it at Hayley, who took a step back.

“I didn't do nothing to her. Papers said she died of a heart attack. So, why are you poking your nose where it don't belong?”

Hayley suddenly noticed the distinct T-shaped scar on his left bicep.

Exactly like the one she spotted on the intruder who attacked her at Bessie's house.

It was Wolf Conway.

Wolf noticed Hayley staring at the scar.

His face twitched a little.

He pointed the knife in Hayley's direction.

“Just leave me alone!”

“It was you. You were the one who broke into Bessie's house.”

“So you wanna call the cops? Go ahead. Then you can explain what the hell
you
were doing there too!”

“What were you looking for?”

Wolf turned back to the grill, poured some whipped eggs into a small frying pan, along with the veggies and some shredded cheese, and placed it on a red-hot burner, just to the left of the flat grill.

“Talk to me, Wolf. I know it's taken you a long while to find this job. It would be a shame if word got out you were robbing houses.”

Wolf twisted back around, waving the knife at Hayley. “Cindy doesn't care about my past. She says she's comfortable with it.”

“Yes, but she's probably assuming the past isn't just yesterday when you broke into your ex-girlfriend's house and ransacked it.”

“What do you want from me?”

“The truth.”

Wolf sighed and lowered the knife, but he still clutched it at his side.

“I wasn't there to steal anything. I just wanted to get back what's mine.”

“And what was that?”

“Two grand in cash.”

Wolf detected the skepticism on Hayley's face.

“Bessie showed up at my apartment about a week or so before she died. She told me she wanted to get back together.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Hayley said, folding her arms.

“I did too. She despised me. I couldn't understand what was happening. What suddenly changed her mind? Then I got a phone call while she was there. It was from Cindy. She told me Bessie had been by the diner and told her she should hire me. She said I was a great cook. And Cindy wouldn't regret it. I couldn't believe my ears. Bessie being so nice? It didn't make a lick of sense. But I needed the job. It wasn't until a few days later when I realized why. I knew she was up to no good.”

“What?”

“When I took the call from Cindy, I left Bessie alone for a few minutes to give Cindy some information, like my Social Security number, stuff like that for the payroll. When I came back, Bessie couldn't get out of my place fast enough. I didn't care. I was too stoked to be working again. But it was a setup. Bessie knew from when we were together that I always kept about two grand, which my granddaddy left me, in one of his old cigar boxes. I promised him I would never touch it, unless it was an emergency. I kept that promise because he was the only person who was ever nice to me in my whole life. Well, after Cindy hired me, I decided to borrow from the stash to pay my back rent, since I could replace it after I got my first paycheck. Only thing was, when I opened the cigar box, it was empty.”

“You think Bessie stole it from you?”

“Damn right, she stole it. She was desperate to start that lousy candy business and she knew I had a hidden stash of cold, hard cash in that cigar box. She convinced Cindy to hire me, probably told her the best time to call me, and made sure she was in my house when the call came in so I would be distracted and she could steal my money and slip out.”

“That's what you two were fighting about outside my office that day?”

“She denied taking it, but she was lying. Her face got red when she lied. And that day as she stood in front of me, babbling like a fool that she had no idea what I was talking about, she was flushed redder than this-here ripe tomato.”

Wolf slammed the knife down hard, slicing the tomato in half.

Hayley jumped.

Wolf picked up the small frying pan and flipped the omelette over on its other side.

“So that's why you broke into her house? To find your money?”

“She died so soon after that, I figured there was a chance she didn't spend all of it yet, so I decided to see if I could at least get some of it back.”

Wolf was violent and troubled and desperate.

But in Hayley's gut, she felt he wasn't a killer.

“Hayley, are you putting the moves on my manly cook?” Cindy Callahan cooed as she sashayed into the kitchen. She was dressed in a bright baby blue sweater, white pearls, and jean skirt. She was freshly made-up, and her dark brown hair was teased out.

“Uh, no, Cindy. We're just talking. Right, Wolf?”

Wolf nodded, eyeing Cindy, well, wolfishly.

Cindy walked past Hayley and rubbed Wolf's left bicep with the scar on it.

“You feel this, Hayley?” Cindy asked.

“Looks pretty impressive, I'd say,” Hayley said, trying to be polite.

“You could crack a walnut on it. And believe me, I have,” Cindy said, laughing. “Now, if you're done harassing my big boy here, a family of four just came in and they want my world-famous blueberry waffles.”

Hayley eyed Wolf.

He smiled lovingly at Cindy before turning his eyes back toward Hayley.

“Nice talking to you, Hayley.”

Hayley nodded and turned to walk out.

She heard slobbering kissing behind her.

Wolf was well on his way to securing his very own sugar mommy.

Hayley was certain she was about to be fired.

When she returned to the office after confronting Wolf Conway at the Starfish Diner, Sal met her at the door, commented on how her lunch hour was more like a lunch hour and a half, and then ordered her to follow him to his office.

Hayley's stomach did flip-flops as she bowed her head, chastised, and hoped she would be eligible for unemployment benefits once she was kicked to the curb.

In hindsight maybe zealously pursuing this “Bessie Winthrop was murdered” theory might have been a massive mistake.

Sal ushered her inside and told her to take a seat.

Hayley sat down.

Sal slammed the door shut. He crossed behind her and plopped down at his desk and stared coldly at her.

Hayley sat straight up, her mind racing to come up with two or three arguments for why she should not be terminated.

Her mind was blank.

There had to be one.

“You've sure got a lot of spunk,” Sal barked.

Hayley nodded. This was just like the pilot episode of
The Mary Tyler Moore Show
, a classic sitcom from the 1970s that Hayley had watched in reruns on TV Land. The irascible newsroom producer, Lou Grant, said the same thing to Mary Richards in her job interview to work at the station as an associate producer. Mary beamed proudly and said, “Well, yes . . .” before Mr. Grant cut her off and yelled, “I
hate
spunk!”

She waited for Sal to tell her off.

Mary did wind up getting the job in that classic pilot episode.

But Hayley wasn't so confident that she was going to walk out of here with her job intact.

Sal just stared at her, not cracking a smile.

Hayley shifted uncomfortably in her chair.

Sal finally spoke. “I guess congratulations are in order.”

“Congratulations? For what?”

“I just got off the phone with Sabrina Merryweather.”

“Uh-oh. What did she say?”

“She spent most of the conversation trashing you with a lot of four-letter words. I served in the army back in the day, when I had hair on my head and about a hundred less pounds hanging over my belt, and I swear I never heard such foul language. She really has it out for you.”

“Well, we never were the best of friends, to be honest.”

“And I don't think at this point you ever will be. Those columns about Bessie Winthrop you've been writing finally did the trick. The mayor's office has been inundated with calls demanding she have the coroner exhume Bessie's body for a more thorough autopsy than just the preliminary one Sabrina performed last week. And for some strange reason, and I don't even want to know why, the mayor seems to be scared of you and what you've been writing, so she pressured Dr. Merryweather to do just that, hoping they could finally put the whole matter to rest.”

“When is she going to conduct the second autopsy?”

“Already done.”

“And?” Hayley said, holding her breath.

“Upon closer inspection, Dr. Merryweather found large amounts of some medication called Mephyton in Bessie's system.”

“Mephyton? What's that?”

“A concentrated form of vitamin K used to treat hemophiliacs, people with vitamin K deficiencies. It's a natural blood thickener used to promote clotting.”

“But Bessie had heart disease. A blood clot to her arteries could kill her.”

“Exactly.”

“Are you saying—”

“Dr. Merryweather spoke to Bessie's doctor. Ever since her last physical, he was worried about her heart and was after her to start taking Warfarin, which is an anticoagulant that helps prevent harmful clots from forming in the blood vessels. He phoned a prescription into the pharmacy, and Bessie promised to pick it up and finally start the regimen.”

“Well, if she was supposed to be on a blood thinner, then how the hell did she wind up taking a blood
thickener
?”

“Beats me. Unless someone switched the medications. Chief Alvares talked to the pharmacy and Bessie did stop by a few weeks before she died to pick up her prescription.”

“So whoever switched the medications had to have been close to Bessie. Someone she would have allowed inside her house.”

“Or someone could have broken into her house while she wasn't there and did the switch.”

“So Bessie basically killed herself without realizing it.”

“With someone's help. We just don't know who yet.”

Finally her suspicions were being confirmed.

And it would have felt gratifying if Hayley didn't feel so sad that Bessie was gone.

Hayley suddenly perked up. “So, does this mean ... ?”

Sal nodded. “Chief Alvares has already reclassified Bessie's death as a homicide.”

As she left the office at five-thirty that afternoon, Hayley was grateful she still had her job. Normally, quitting time was five o'clock, but Sal was determined she make up for the extra half hour she took at lunch to question Wolf Conway at the Starfish Diner.

He wasn't exactly a brain trust.

Switching Bessie's medication would require knowing a blood thickener from a blood thinner.

And Hayley was guessing he could barely read a children's book, let alone a doctor's prescription.

Besides, he was more focused on retrieving the money Bessie had stolen from him than Bessie herself.

If he had killed Bessie, it would more likely have been in the moment—a crime of passion, not a carefully thought-out murder plot.

Clearly, thinking wasn't his strong suit.

None of them needed alibis because Bessie's death happened over the course of a few weeks. All of them could have somehow switched the medications at any time.

It would be impossible, even with the most painstakingly detailed timeline, to determine how and when the killer gained access to Bessie's house to swap out the meds.

Hayley's phone buzzed.

A text from Liddy: At Drinks Like A Fish. Need you here. Now.

Shockingly, Hayley was in no mood for cocktails at her brother's bar. She just wanted to go home and check on Gemma and Dustin.

But Liddy's text sounded urgent enough for her to swing by on her way, just to make sure her friend was okay.

The bar was full when she arrived a few minutes later.

After a long day at the store, four cashiers from the Shop 'n Save were unwinding with Cosmos at a corner table.

Liddy sat atop her usual stool, near the front of the bar, sipping a mojito.

Hayley joined her. “Hey, what's up?”

“I may have something for you. Let me order you a drink first. What are you having?”

“No, thanks. Not in a drinking mood.”

Liddy nearly fell off her stool, before catching herself. She stared at Hayley, a stunned look on her face. “I'm sorry. I thought I heard you say . . .”

Hayley waved at the bartender, who strolled out through the kitchen doors. “Club soda with lime, please, Michelle.”

Michelle stopped in her tracks and giggled. “Somebody turn down the jukebox. I didn't hear you. I thought you said—”

“I'm not drinking tonight.”

Except for a Bruno Mars song playing softly on the jukebox, the whole bar fell silent.

“Seriously, I can't take a night off?” Hayley scoffed, annoyed by the dramatic reaction to her one night on the wagon.

Michelle filled a glass with club soda, squeezed a lime over the ice, and delivered it to Hayley. “Everything okay, sweetie?”

“Yes. Thank you, Michelle,” Hayley said before turning to the table of cashiers. “Nothing's wrong, ladies. Is it so hard to believe I'm taking one night off from alcohol?”

The cashiers shook their heads in unison, but it was obvious they weren't giving Hayley an honest answer.

“Look, I can't stay,” Hayley said to Liddy. “What's so important you couldn't have told me over the phone?”

“Sonny and I had sex in the shower this morning.”

“Wow. Now that's a visual I'm not going to shake for a while. But thanks for sharing.”

“That's not the important part. Well, for me it is. You wouldn't believe how hot and erotic it was. I felt like Angie Dickinson in that scene from
Dressed to Kill,
when that muscle-bound, naked man came up behind her through the steam in the shower as she was soaping herself down, and then she woke up and it was a dream. Only, mine wasn't a dream, and—”

“Liddy, please!”

“Okay, well, when we were done and drying each other off—”

“I don't need every detail!”

“Okay, well, like I told you, Sonny loves pillow talk. Except we weren't in bed with our heads on the pillow. Like I said, we were in the shower—”

“Liddy!”

“Right. Sorry. Stay with me. You're going to like this. Sonny's been really busy lately, and he's been behind in his work, mostly because he's been preoccupied finding my erogenous zones. . . .”

Hayley opened her mouth to protest, but Liddy held up a hand to stop her.

“I know, I know. Too much information. Well, he finally started processing the paperwork for Bessie's estate. Well, what little of it there is.... Just a few measly dollars, and most of it will go to the new owners of her cats for the feeding and care of the pets. But there was a life insurance policy—”

“Yes, I know. The money is going to Bessie's niece, Tawnia.”

“No, it's not.”

“What do you mean?”

“Bessie had Sonny revise the policy right before she died. . . .”

“Who?”

“Her daughter.”

Even Bruno Mars crooning from the jukebox wasn't loud enough to drown out Liddy. The cashiers at the corner table sprang to attention at the mention of a daughter.

“But Bessie didn't have a daughter . . . ,” Hayley said.

“Sonny claims she did, and Bessie insisted on changing the name of the beneficiary from her deadbeat brother's kid to her own daughter.”

“A daughter? But how? What's her name?”

“Well, that I don't know, because, I guess, I seemed a little too interested. Sonny suddenly had a crisis of conscience then and started prattling on about professional ethics and how he had already said too much. He just shut down on me. Believe me, I tried a lot of X-rated tricks to get him to open up, and, well, you know how persuasive I can be when I put my mind to it—”

“No, I don't! And I don't want to know!”

“No matter what I did, I just couldn't get him to crack. He moaned so loud that I thought my neighbors were going to call the police, but I still couldn't break him.”

“I don't get it. Why would Bessie hide the fact that she had a daughter? And when? I've known her since high school and I've never seen her pregnant.”

“What are you talking about? She constantly looked pregnant... ,” Liddy said before catching herself. “Sorry. That came out wrong.”

One of the cashiers at the corner table, Hannah O'Bannon, a towering woman, with stringy brown hair and glasses, who rang up Hayley's order the day she won the grand prize on
Wild and Crazy Couponing,
a game show that shot an episode in Bar Harbor recently, turned her head toward Hayley. “There were rumors. . . .”

“Rumors? What rumors?”

“Bessie was in my class in high school. She left junior year to go to ballet school in New York City, or at least that's the story she told, but nobody believed her. I mean, seriously, Bessie a ballerina?”

“You think she got pregnant and used ballet as an excuse to get out of town?”

“We know she had an aunt in Toronto and she'd go visit her sometimes. That's where everybody assumed she went.”

“If she was pregnant, then who was the father?”

“There was a lot of speculation. A lot of us believed it was Mr. Draper.”

“The biology teacher?”

“Yes. Biology! You would think he would have known better!” Hannah said. “Anyway, Bessie was always getting A's in his class, and she didn't know the first thing about the human body or dissecting a frog. I was her lab partner and I constantly had to cover her ass. But she was Mr. Draper's little pet and could do no wrong, and she was always staying after school to ask him questions about our homework assignments and she would be in there forever. We'd see her sneaking out of his classroom after we got done with cheerleading practice and it would be close to five o'clock. I mean, really, what were they doing in there all that time?”

“Wow. Mr. Draper,” Hayley said.

“Well, this is just outrageous!” Liddy screamed.

“It happens, Liddy. Teachers sleep with students. It's not right, but it happens.”

“I know it happens! I just find it outrageous that he would sleep with Bessie Winthrop and not make one move on
me
! I was so much prettier than Bessie! Why didn't he pick me to hit on? It makes absolutely no sense!”

“Okay, missing the point, Liddy. Let's try to stay on topic. So if the rumors are true, and Bessie gave birth to a baby during junior year and then gave her up for adoption, then she'd have to be at least eighteen or nineteen by now. Maybe there was some kind of a clause that said when the daughter legally became an adult, she could see the adoption papers and track down her birth mother.”

“So you think they reconnected and began a relationship?” Hannah asked as all the women at the corner table leaned in, engrossed in the conversation.

“I'd put money on it, even though I don't have any,” Hayley said. “And if Bessie grew fond of her, that would explain why she made the change to her life insurance policy. She probably wanted to make sure her biological daughter was taken care of. Her generosity would go a long way to relieve the guilt she probably felt for giving her up when she was born.”

Given this new information, the most likely scenario would be Tawnia finding out that Bessie intended to erase her name from the life insurance policy, and then deciding to knock her aunt off before she had a chance to do it. But if that was the case, she'd have to get rid of her immediately, and the bad effects of the blood-thickening drugs took weeks to take their toll on Bessie's heart. Tawnia also claimed she and her mother had no idea there even was a life insurance policy. She could have been lying, but Hayley doubted it.

Her best bet in finding out the truth was Jimmy MacDonald.

The pharmacist.

Maybe the rash of recent pharmacy thefts weren't the sole work of some local hooligans trying to get a quick fix with OxyContin.

Maybe one of those thefts included a big bottle of Mephyton tablets.

The same ones that clogged poor Bessie Winthrop's heart and killed her.