Death of a Coupon Clipper (11 page)

The last thing Hayley wanted to do was accept a ride to the grocery store from Bruce
Linney. She hadn’t spoken to him since he besmirched Mona’s good name by implying
she was the one who had stabbed Candace Culpepper in the back. But since Hayley’s
car was out of commission and Sal left work early, she had little choice but to nod
her head when Bruce asked if he could drop her off somewhere.

She quietly mumbled, “The Shop ’n Save.”

“Going to practice your couponing skills before the big day?”

“Just because you’re giving me a ride doesn’t mean we need to engage in conversation,
Bruce.”

Bruce threw up his hands and then held the office door open as she marched out. He
followed her to his parked black Audi and unlocked the doors with his remote. Hayley
got in the passenger side as Bruce crossed in front of the car to slip into the driver’s
seat. They both slammed their doors at the same time. There was absolute silence in
the car, except for the sound of Bruce rubbing his hands together to warm up before
inserting the key in the ignition and starting the car.

As he pulled away, Hayley folded her arms and kept her eyes fixed forward on the road.
Bruce cranked up the heater full blast, and it finally dissipated the visible wafts
of their frosty breath.

“So, just how long are you going to give me the silent treatment?” Bruce asked, frustrated,
hands gripping the wheel.

He glanced over to see Hayley shrug.

“You know, if the police had another suspect, I wouldn’t be writing about Mona in
my column,” Bruce said, a defensive tone in his voice.

“How do you know there aren’t any other suspects?”

“Because Officer Donnie told me so, just this morning. I’m not targeting your friend,
Hayley. It’s just that right now she’s the closest thing the cops have to a person
of interest.”

“What kind of reporter relies on a nervous rookie to tell him everything there is
to know about a murder case?”

“A reporter relies on the information he’s given.”

“A true reporter should dig deeper.”

Bruce eyed her warily. “Why? What do you know? If you know something, Hayley, you
have to tell me.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do. Out of professional courtesy. I’m the crime reporter for the
Times.
It’s
my
job to gather all the facts related to any police investigation.”

“What could I possibly know? I’m just a silly food-and-cocktails columnist. Like you
said, I should just focus on my recipe file and not worry my pretty little head about
someone who may have been intimately involved with the victim.”

Bruce turned the wheel and the Audi pulled into the parking lot of the Shop ’n Save.
He nearly sideswiped a truck because he was so rattled by what Hayley had just said.
“You know someone who was having an affair with Candace?”

“I’m going to make Randy a nice chicken-and-stuffing casserole tonight. My mother
used to make it for us when we were kids, on these cold winter nights.”

She whipped open the door and was out of the car just as Bruce leaned over to grab
her coat but missed.

“Hayley! Come back here!”

“Thanks for the ride, Bruce.”

She slammed the door shut. She could see his mouth moving, yelling something at her,
but she ignored it and bounded into the supermarket. Pulling a metal cart from the
stack, she steered down to the poultry section. She half expected Bruce to chase her
down and demand she tell him what she knew, but he didn’t. Bruce was desperate to
crack the case, but he was even more desperate not to embarrass himself by causing
a scene for the whole town to see. He didn’t want to give anyone the impression that
Hayley Powell made him lose his cool.

Hayley quickly maneuvered through the aisles, tossing a package of organic skinless
boneless chicken, some bread crumbs for stuffing, and a can of mushroom soup into
her cart. She was ticking off the items in her head as she made her way back up to
the front of the store. After work was the worst time to do grocery shopping; half
the population of Bar Harbor seemed to be packing the aisles. Miraculously, though,
she saw an express lane wide open, with no customers, so she made a mad dash for it.

Just as she reached the magazine rack, another cart came out of nowhere and crashed
into hers—just as Candace had done during that couponing dry run right before she
was murdered.

But this obviously wasn’t Candace.

No. This was a man. A fidgety, nervous-looking man who was wearing thick glasses,
which only seemed to enlarge his coal black eyes.

Tilly McVety breezed by Hayley and the man with her own cart and waved. “Hi, Hayley.
Hi, Mr. Hollingsworth.”

Hayley smiled and waved back to Tilly, who was gone in a flash.

Hollingsworth.

This was Clark Hollingsworth.

Edgar’s nephew and Lex’s current boss at the estate.

Without apologizing, Clark turned his back to Hayley as he blocked her cart with his
body while shoving his own cart ahead of her and up to the cashier.

He then bent over and began systematically unloading items from his cart, completely
ignoring the seething rage he had to feel emanating from behind him.

Hayley took a deep breath.

If she picked a fight with him, and he realized she was Lex’s girlfriend, she could
very well jeopardize Lex’s job, especially with Edgar being so seriously ill.

There was no one to stand up to Clark and the unilateral decisions he was making.

Clark continued slamming cans and bottles down on the conveyor belt. His cart was
fully loaded. At least seventy-five items. This was the express lane, with a fifteen-item
limit. The teenage checkout girl was too intimidated by Clark’s dead stare and angry
demeanor to protest, so Hayley just waited calmly with her seven items until the checker
finished ringing up his total.

Clark reached into his pocket and pulled out a stack of coupons and began placing
them on top of all the items.

Hayley couldn’t believe it.

He was doling them out with such precision and know-how, she wondered why he hadn’t
applied to be a contestant on
Wild and Crazy Couponing.
But it did beg the question: why would a man of Clark’s enormous wealth, an heir
to a billion-dollar frozen-seafood fortune, be a rabid coupon clipper?

In fact, it was downright strange.

She had never seen any rich person so meticulous about his coupons. Not an item went
through that he didn’t make sure got a discount. The process was painstaking. He checked
and rechecked every coupon. She was going to be here all night.

Hayley made eye contact with the checkout girl, who smiled sympathetically, knowing
this was going to take a while.

Suddenly Clark was frantically fanning through his stack of coupons just as the girl
scanned a can of Planters Mixed Nuts.

“Wait! Stop! I have a coupon for that!”

The girl snatched the can of nuts back from the bag boy, who was about to drop it
into one of Clark’s reusable bags, and waited patiently.

Clark kept thumbing through his coupons. “I know I brought it. I had it in my hand
when I was in the snacks aisle.”

Clark began to sweat. He knew he was holding everything up, but he was not about to
forgo the chance to use every last coupon. He finished examining them all in his hand
and then began sorting through them again.

Hayley couldn’t take it anymore. She flipped through her own stack of coupons and
pulled out one for Planters Mixed Nuts. She tapped Clark on the right shoulder. He
spun around as if someone was assaulting him, but he froze at the sight of the correct
coupon.

“Here. Take mine,” Hayley said sweetly.

Clark’s icy demeanor didn’t thaw much, but he accepted the coupon and nodded curtly
to Hayley, mumbling a quick thank-you before turning back around and handing it to
the checkout girl.

It was going to take some more time for the girl to ring up the rest of the items
and apply the discounts from the coupons, so Hayley knew she had a few minutes. She
coughed and cleared her throat. Clark twisted his head around, a distasteful look
on his face, afraid he might catch a winter cold. Hayley seized on the momentary eye
contact.

“It’s terrible about what happened to your uncle’s nurse,” Hayley said, shaking her
head, showing just how upset she was.

“Yes, I know, terrible,” Clark said brusquely, without a hint of emotion.

“Did you know her well?”

She heard a groan escape from his lips, one he didn’t intend to be heard, but he couldn’t
help it. The last thing he wanted was to be caught up in a conversation with a local
yokel.

Especially if the conversation involved a dead employee.

“No, I did not,” Clark said, squirming, looking back at the checkout girl and pleading
with his eyes to hurry up.

“I suppose she was already hired by the time you arrived in town,” Hayley said casually.

“Yes, she was. I had very little contact with her.”

“I can’t imagine who would want Candace dead. There hasn’t been a random murder in
this town in, like, I think, forever. Most homicides are done by people who know the
victim. Angry spouses, duplicitous so-called friends, disgruntled employees . . .
or, even in some cases, employers. Finding out something illegal the boss was up to
and paying the price for it.”

Clark bristled. His back stiffened and he slowly turned around and glared at Hayley.
“Just what are you getting at?”

“Nothing. Just thinking out loud. I didn’t mean to imply anything. Really,” Hayley
said without an ounce of sincerity.

“Let’s get something straight, Ms. Powell. Yes, I know who you are. If you’re poking
a stick at me right now so I lose my temper and perhaps say something I shouldn’t,
to somehow inadvertently confess to a murder I had nothing to do with, then I’m afraid
you are going to be sorely disappointed.”

“I am so sorry. I never meant to offend you,” Hayley said, trying not to smile.

“The night Ms. Culpepper was savagely stabbed to death, I was at the Porter House
enjoying a steak, medium rare, some cheddar mashed potatoes, a side of garlic spinach,
and my favorite bottle of Pinot Noir. And I would appreciate it if you would check
with the restaurant so they can assure you that I am not making any of this up. Will
you do that for me, Ms. Powell?”

“Of course, Mr. Hollingsworth, I’d be happy to.”

The checkout girl said in a mousy voice, “Um, that’ll be a hundred and fifty seven
dollars, please.”

Clark whipped his head back to the cashier. “
With
the coupons?”

The checkout girl nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Clark furiously slapped a gold credit card down on the conveyor belt and once again
turned his back toward Hayley.

This time for good.

After walking down the street with her bag of groceries to Drinks Like A Fish, where
Randy was about to put his best bartender, Michelle, who had just arrived home from
her honeymoon, in charge for the rest of the night, Hayley called the Porter House
and talked to the manager.

He confirmed that Clark Hollingsworth had indeed come into the restaurant at seven-thirty
and stayed until after ten, knowing full well the staff was tired and anxious to go
home, but in no hurry to accommodate anyone but himself.

If Candace was stabbed at nine o’clock and died instantly, as Sabrina had determined
in her autopsy, then that meant Clark was in the clear.

Hayley knew what she had to do next. Whip up her mother’s famous chicken-and-stuffing
casserole for Randy and confront the one suspect who was clearly hiding his relationship
with the victim: Drew Nickerson, the oily, repulsive host of
Wild and Crazy Couponing
.

After she served Randy dinner, Hayley borrowed his car to drive over to the Captain’s
Arms, where Drew was staying. Parking out front, she took a deep breath and told herself
she could get through this. Drew wasn’t stupid enough to make another pass at her.

Not after the last time.

Or was he?

Hayley thought perhaps in hindsight she should’ve swung by Mona’s and borrowed her
shotgun. But she was here now, so she might as well roll with it.

When Hayley walked through the front door, the heat from the fireplace made her face
sweat. She peeled off her layers, hanging her coat on a wooden coatrack by the front
door, and looked around. She instantly spotted Drew. He was clad in a gray wool knit
sweater and khaki pants and very expensive-looking black polished boots. He was sitting
in an overstuffed chair by the fire, reading his Kindle. It was hard to miss him.
He was apparently the only customer in the entire place. The only other living being
around was Clarence Renault, the chipper, roly-poly bartender who, growing up, had
been in Randy’s class. Clarence was stuffed into an ill-fitting black vest and was
washing glasses behind a very small mahogany bar. Before approaching Drew, Hayley
thought it best to order a cocktail.

“Evening, Hayley,” Clarence said, brightening. He was undoubtedly happy to see a friendly
face on this cold Maine winter night. He probably didn’t count a persnickety guest
reading in front of the fireplace. “Please tell me you want a cocktail. I haven’t
had anything to do for the last hour.”

“I’ll take an espresso martini, Clarence,” Hayley said, smiling.

The caffeine from the espresso would keep her alert and the vodka would help her deal
with having to talk to Nickerson again.

Clarence gratefully grabbed a martini glass and began making the drink. Hayley stood
by the bar, her back to Drew, whose slurping caused her to pivot around just in time
to see his thick mustache catch a dollop of whipped cream from the top of his mug
of Irish coffee.

Drew spotted her and broke into a wide smile. “Intrepid reporter Hayley Powell, what
a nice surprise on this chilly, lonely night. Are you here to see me?”

“Y-yes,” Hayley said, stammering, certainly not wanting to give him a false impression.

Too late.

“Well, color me surprised. I didn’t think you were interested, especially after your
last visit. I’m still nursing a sore tongue.”

Drew dramatically rolled his tongue around in his mouth for effect and then finished
downing his Irish coffee. “It seems alcohol helps deaden the pain.”

Clarence put Hayley’s cocktail on top of the bar. “Here’s your espresso martini, Hayley.
I coated the rim with chocolate because I know you’ve got a sweet tooth.”

“Thank you, Clarence,” Hayley said, picking up the martini glass and casually strolling
over to Drew by the fireplace. “So, what are you reading on your Kindle?”

“Biography of the late, great Dick Clark. My hero. Not just a simple game show host.
An innovator. An entrepreneur. I’m trying to model my career after him. This coupon-clipping
piece of crap is just the gateway to my future opportunities. But I’m sure a small-town
little girl such as yourself isn’t curious about all that.”

God, Hayley despised this guy.

She wanted to tell him off.

Or at least give his tongue another working over.

But she couldn’t.

Not just yet.

“So, what can I do for you, honey?” Drew asked in the most condescending voice he
could muster.

Hayley couldn’t take the whipped cream dripping from his overgrown mustache. She raised
a finger to her upper lip, trying to signal him to wipe his face. Unfortunately, he
wasn’t too sharp at hand signals.

“You want a kiss already? Shouldn’t we engage in a little saucy banter first before
I make my move?”

Yuck.

“You’ve got whipped cream in your mustache!” Hayley bellowed.

This startled him. Drew Nickerson wasn’t used to
not
being the picture of perfection. He quickly lifted the mug from the small coffee
table in front of him and grabbed the cocktail napkin it was resting on. He dabbed
it against his face until all of the whipped cream was gone.

Hayley kept going. “I have a couple of questions for you.”

“I’m eight and a half inches, you minx.”

“Seriously? Are you for real? Can you please talk normal?”

“I have to do something to entertain myself in this idiotic and boring nowhere town,”
he spit out defensively. “Fine. Go ahead. Ask away.”

“Do you know Candace Culpepper?”

“The woman I read about who was stabbed to death in her front yard? No. I didn’t know
her.”

“Well, that’s funny, because I happen to have proof that you more than just knew her,”
Hayley said, taking a sip of her martini.

Clarence made strong drinks.

She was already feeling light-headed.

She had to keep it together.

“Well, you’re wrong. I never met the woman. What proof are you talking about?”

Hayley reached into her coat pocket and pulled out the DVD that she took from Candace’s
house. She waved it in front of Drew.

“What’s that?” Drew said, completely nonplussed, raising his arm to get Clarence’s
attention. “Excuse me, if you’re not too busy tending to the other guests—wait, there
are no other guests—could you please make me another Irish coffee? Maybe before breakfast?”

Clarence simmered behind the bar, nodding to Drew, not wanting to risk getting fired
by talking back to one of the guests, possibly the only guest.

Drew turned his attention back to Hayley. “So you brought a movie for us to watch?
Shall I pop us some popcorn? Is Charlize Theron in it? I love Charlize Theron. She’s
my pretend girlfriend when I’m feeling lonely.”

“I don’t think you’ll be so glib once you’ve seen it.”

“Well, I’m intrigued now. Let’s go to my room and pop it in the DVD player.”

“The last thing I plan on doing is going to your room with you.”

“So you want to cuddle up next to the fireplace and watch it here? Fine with me,”
Drew said as Clarence came out from behind the bar and delivered his Irish coffee.
“What’s your name again?”

“Clarence,” he said softly, not wanting to be involved in this conversation at all.

“Hayley’s brought us a movie to watch. I see you have a TV above the bar. You like
Charlize Theron, Clarence?”

“This film doesn’t star Charlize Theron,” Hayley said. “It stars you . . . and Candace
Culpepper. And it is intended for mature audiences only.”

This stopped Drew cold.

He turned and fixed his gaze on Hayley.

Clarence froze in place, not sure whether he should stay or leave.

“You’re bluffing,” Drew said, eyes narrowing.

Hayley spun the DVD around her middle finger like it was a mini Hula-hoop. “Try me.”

Drew studied her hard. Not sure which way to play this.

It was like a cowboy standoff on the edge of a dusty ghost town.

Guns in the holsters.

Hands on the triggers.

Waiting for the other to make the first move.

Drew finally turned to Clarence. “Go ahead. Play it.”

Hayley stopped spinning the DVD and handed it to Clarence, who looked at both of them
tentatively before retreating behind the bar and sliding it into the DVD player, which
was hooked up to the TV hanging on the wall behind him.

The tension was palpable.

The wait was interminable.

They heard the whirring of the player coming to life and the screen went black as
the DVD loaded.

And then, Drew Nickerson’s mouth dropped open at the sight of himself in all his naked
glory lying on a bed with Candace Culpepper straddling him.

Hayley could tell Clarence wanted to close his eyes.

But he couldn’t tear them away from the jaw-dropping scene. It was like being drawn
to some horrible car wreck on Route 3 on the way to Bangor.

At that exact moment the front door to the bed-and-breakfast swung open and a gust
of wind sent the flames from the fireplace flickering in all directions. Reverend
Staples and his wife, Edie, marched inside, stomping their boots to get rid of the
clinging snow. Hayley opened her mouth to warn them not to come any farther, but it
was too late. The reverend crossed the room toward Clarence.

“Our pipes froze, Clarence, and the missus and I have no water. So we thought if you
have a room available, we would stay here tonight.”

Clarence opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.

And that’s when Reverend Staples heard grunts and moaning coming from above him. He
glanced up, just in time to see Candace Culpepper going down on Drew Nickerson. At
first, he thought his eyes must be playing tricks on him, because he chuckled amiably
at what he thought he was seeing. But then, as his wife, Edie, stepped into the room
and gasped, moments away from needing smelling salts, that’s when the good reverend
came to the disturbing conclusion that this particular Bar Harbor B and B routinely
played porn for its guests.

Clarence tried in vain to explain. “Reverend Staples, please, this is not what you
think. . . .”

The reverend waved his hand in front of Clarence’s stricken face. “No need for explanations,
son. I understand this time of year people get bored being cooped up because of the
harsh weather and sometimes
American Idol
just doesn’t cut it as entertainment.”

Edie gripped her husband’s coat and squeezed hard, desperate to make a quick escape.

“Edie’s cousin lives just down School Street. We’ll try there. Don’t worry about us.
We’ll find a place to stay. Joseph and Mary didn’t get lodging on their first try
either,” Reverend Staples said, turning his wife’s head away from the television and
ushering her out the door.

On his way out he glanced over and saw Hayley sitting next to Drew, smiling weakly.

“Hayley Powell. Why am I not surprised to see you here?” he said, shuffling out the
door and slamming it shut behind him.

Yes, the Reverend Staples had been shaking his head in judgment of Hayley since she
was in the seventh grade and performed Madonna’s “Like a Prayer” song for the church
fund-raiser, complete with Randy, in a long brown wig and fake beard, wearing nothing
but a white towel playing the role of a sexy Jesus. People still talked about that.
Except Hayley’s mother. Sheila made the decision that very day to move to Florida
when both kids were out of high school.

“Turn it off!” Drew screamed, finally snapping out of his state of shock. “Are you
trying to ruin me? I’m a married man! What if that gets out?”

“It won’t. Clarence won’t talk, as long as you tip him well when you leave tonight.
And I’m not interested in hurting your wife, though I’d probably be doing her a favor.
I just want you to come clean.”

“Okay, fine. Yes. We had a brief affair. But it was nothing serious.”

“Isn’t that a conflict of interest, given the fact Candace was going to appear as
a contestant on your show?”

“Of course not,” Drew said, scoffing. “I never play favorites. In fact, I sleep with
all the female contestants, so it’s a completely level playing field.”

“Not me,” Hayley said emphatically.

Drew put a hand on her knee, which then crept up toward her inner thigh. “The night
is young.”

Hayley grabbed Drew’s fingers and bent them back far enough that they almost touched
his wrist. Drew howled in pain and wrenched his hand away. He was seconds away from
crying like a baby; but with Clarence still in the room, he couldn’t risk compromising
his macho reputation. Instead, he choked back the tears and jumped to his feet.

“I could never hurt Candace!” Drew yelled, rubbing his hands.

“I tend to agree with you,” Hayley said. “You’re too much of a wuss to hurt anyone.
I’ve seen Candace on a soccer field. If you went at her with a knife, she’d have taken
you down faster than a UFC champ.”

“I’m done talking to you,” Drew said, beating a hasty retreat down the hall to his
corner room.

Hayley turned to Clarence, who was still watching the TV, where Drew and Candace were
humping. “Would you please turn that off, Clarence?”

“Huh? Oh, right. Sorry,” he said, reaching under the bar and pressing a button. Mercifully,
the graphic image finally disappeared.

Hayley took one last sip of her espresso martini. “So tell me. The night of Candace’s
murder, do you remember Drew Nickerson being here?”

“Yeah, he was here. Hanging around the bar drinking and hitting on the housekeeper,
until around eight-thirty. Then he went to his room.”

“And he was there all night?”

“I think so. But I went on my break shortly after that and didn’t come back until
nine-thirty.”

“So he could’ve left and come back without you seeing him.”

Clarence nodded.

Drew Nickerson was a whiny wuss, but he was also sleeping with the victim.

And his alibi was pretty shaky.

He could’ve slipped out of the B and B, stabbed Candace, and gotten back before Clarence
returned to the bar to see him come through the door.

Which meant Drew was still a suspect.

Hayley put out her hand.

“You want another espresso martini?” Clarence asked.

“No, Clarence, the DVD.”

“Oh, right.”

He ejected it from the player. Before handing it back to her, however, he said, “You
mind if I burn myself a copy? I had no friggin’ idea Ms. Culpepper had such a smoking
body.”

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear you just say that,” Hayley said, snatching the DVD out
of his hand and heading out the door.