Chapter 25
Hayley waited until early the next morning before stepping out onto Randy’s front porch—so as not to wake anybody inside the house—and calling Spanky McFarland’s mother, with whom she was friendly because they had once shared a table at the library bake sale.
Carla McFarland’s apple turnovers were to die for.
And Carla enjoyed Hayley’s sense of humor and love of sweets.
But today Carla seemed tense and out of sorts when she picked up the phone. Hayley chalked it up to her calling so early. It was just a few minutes past eight in the morning.
“Yes. Who is this?” Carla barked.
“Hi, Carla, it’s Hayley Powell.”
“Oh, Hayley. I thought you were a telemarketer or someone trying to sell me something.”
“I’m sorry I’m calling so early, but I was hoping to speak to Spanky.”
“Spanky? I’m afraid he’s not here. He’s gone kayaking with Nate.”
Nate was Spanky’s older brother, a senior in high school.
“Do you know when he’ll be back?”
“Not until later this afternoon. Why? What’s he done now?”
“Nothing. I’m just planning a surprise birthday party for Dustin, and I was hoping Spanky might help me come up with names for the guest list.”
“Oh, good. I thought he was in some kind of trouble again.”
“Oh, no, of course not.”
Hayley decided not to mention the whole stealing groceries and alcohol and selling them for a profit scheme.
Why add to Carla’s stress so early in the day?
“Well, I’ll give Spanky the message and have him call you. And I’ll be sure to make some of my apple turnovers for the party.”
“You are too good to me, Carla. Thank you. By the way, I used to love kayaking. Where did the boys go?”
Actually, Hayley had never been kayaking in her life.
“They set off from the beach in front of the Bar Harbor Inn and were going to go around Frenchman’s Bay.”
“Oh, that sounds lovely. Well, you have a great Saturday, Carla.”
“You, too, Hayley.”
Hayley quickly ended the call and speed-dialed Mona at her house.
When Mona picked up, Hayley could hear screaming kids in the background.
“What?” Mona yelled, even more tense than Carla had sounded.
Why was Hayley the only morning person?
“Mona, it’s me. I need to borrow one of your motorboats. I need to track down a couple of kayaks somewhere in Frenchman’s Bay.
“Of course you do. Meet me at the pier in five. If I don’t get out of this house, I think I’m going to have a stroke! Hold on.”
Hayley heard rustling on the other end of the line.
Then Mona was screaming, “Do not, I repeat, do not throw eggs at your sister! I’m warning you! Don’t you do it! Aw, hell, Hayley, make it ten. I have to chase down one of my kids.”
Click.
She was gone.
Hayley considered waking Dustin and taking him with her. Spanky might be more inclined to talk if a friend was there. But, then again, if she had to strong-arm the kid, she didn’t want to embarrass Dustin or damage his friendship with Spanky in any way.
She hopped in her Subaru and drove down to the town pier solo, parking in an empty spot.
Waiting by the dock were a couple of Mona’s boats tied to wooden posts sticking above the water.
Fifteen minutes passed.
Then thirty.
Finally, Mona’s pickup truck came roaring down the hill from the center of town and pulled into the spot next to Hayley’s.
When Mona jumped out of the truck, there were bits of yellow scrambled egg in her hair and juice stains on her sweatshirt.
“It’s friggin’ World War Three at my house. Thank God you called. I was going stir crazy. It started when two of my rugrats wanted to watch SpongeBob and the oldest insisted on iCarly and it all went south from there.”
Hayley hugged Mona and their cheeks touched.
“Your face is sticky,” Hayley said.
“Maple syrup. I got caught in the cross fire.”
“Is your husband watching the kids?”
“If you call zoning out in front of the TV glued to a ball game while the walls of the house collapse around him watching the kids, then yes, he’s watching the kids.”
Mona barreled down the walkway to the dock, wiping her face with her sleeve, and then cracked her knuckles and set about untying a small army green boat with an outboard motor from the dock.
“So who are we looking for?”
“Spanky McFarland.”
“The stock boy from the Shop ’n Save?”
“Yes. He may have information about the death of Mickey Pritchett and I don’t want to wait until the end of the day to talk to him because as you know, time is of the essence when it comes to murder investigations and—”
Mona held up a hand. “You don’t need to explain. I’m just happy to be out of the house. Let’s go.”
Mona steadied the boat and waved Hayley aboard and then she jumped in after her, tossed Hayley an orange life jacket, and yanked the cord until the motor sputtered to life.
Within seconds, they were chugging out into the harbor and around the small islands that dotted Frenchman’s Bay.
The bright morning sun beat down on them.
And she forgot her sunscreen.
Great.
It took about twenty minutes before Hayley and Mona spotted two kayaks off in the distance gliding across the water at an impressive speed. Mona steered the motor in their direction and they soon caught up with them.
Hayley stood up, keeping her balance, and waved her arms at the boys. “Spanky! Nate! It’s me, Hayley Powell! Dustin’s mother!”
The two boys stopped paddling and exchanged confused looks.
Nate spoke first. “Hi, Mrs. Powell. What are you doing out here?”
“I need to talk to Spanky.”
Spanky shifted nervously in his kayak. “About what?”
“Mickey Pritchett.”
That was all he needed to hear.
Spanky suddenly started frantically paddling in the opposite direction.
“Is this kid serious?” Mona asked, shaking her head.
She gunned the motor and the boat shot off ahead of Spanky.
Mona veered in front of him, cutting him off.
“Give it up, Frankie. This is a Yamaha outboard with twenty-five horsepower. You’re not going to out-paddle it.”
“It’s Spanky,” the kid mumbled.
“What?”
“His name is Spanky, not Frankie,” Hayley offered.
“What the hell does it matter? I can’t even keep the names of my own kids straight.”
Hayley patted Mona’s back, giving her the signal that she would take over now, so Mona plopped down on the wooden seat in the boat and started combing her hair for egg bits.
Hayley smiled at Spanky. “Now, Spanky, I don’t want to get you into any kind of trouble . . .”
“I didn’t do anything!” Spanky protested.
His brother Nate was watching the scene curiously.
“I know you took some groceries over to Mickey Pritchett at the Harborside Hotel the night he was killed.”
Spanky was shaking now. “You can’t prove it! Nobody saw me take anything!”
Nate rolled his eyes. “You did what?”
“Nothing,” Hayley said. “I don’t care how you got the groceries or what they were or how much Mickey paid you for them.”
“You don’t?” Spanky asked, his eyes as big as saucers.
“No. It’s none of my business and, like I said, I’m not here to get you into trouble. I just need to ask you a couple of questions about Mickey, about when you brought him the bag of groceries. What did he say to you?”
“Not much. He was kind of a jerk. He seemed . . . I don’t know . . . like something was on his mind.”
“He was preoccupied?”
“Yes. And nervous or agi . . . agi . . .”
“Agitated?”
“Yeah, that’s the word. Agitated. And he was eating a greasy piece of chicken and it was all over his face and he kept wiping his hands on his shirt. It was kind of gross.”
Hayley resisted the urge to defend her chicken. It was not greasy!
“What else do you remember?”
“Nothing. He gave me my money and then shut the door in my face and I went home because my shift at the store was over.”
“So you didn’t see anyone else around when you got there?”
“No. Nobody.”
Hayley sighed.
She was going to get sunburned for nothing.
She turned to Mona. “Let’s head back to shore, Mona.”
“Only when I was leaving.”
“Wait. What did you say?”
“I didn’t see anyone when I showed up. Only when I was leaving.”
“Who was it?”
“I don’t know. It was a girl. She walked right past me and knocked on the guy’s door and he let her in.”
“Girl? You mean a woman? Stacy Jo Stanton? Did she have blond hair and big boobs?”
Nate chuckled.
All teenage boys chuckle at the mention of boobs. Spanky shook his head. “No. Not really. I don’t remember much about her. She wasn’t exactly a hottie.”
“How old would you say she was?”
Spanky shrugged. “Way older than me, like a sophomore or junior.”
So, about a year or two older.
“What did she look like?” Hayley said.
“I don’t know. Brown hair. Fat. Well, not fat, but not skinny, that’s for sure.”
“What else?”
“Oh, she had this big ugly mole on her face.”
Hayley’s heart nearly stopped.
A mole.
That the girl probably hated.
Spanky was talking about Carrie Weston.
Gemma’s best friend.
Carrie had been in Mickey Pritchett’s hotel room the night he was murdered.