Death of a Christmas Caterer by Lee Hollis Page B

this morning that the coroner ruled Garth’s death a homicide! What the hell am I going to do if Chief Alvares thinks I had something to do with it? He’ll never leave me alone!”
    Hayley followed the sound of his voice through a thicket of trees. She finally spotted Ken—a tall, distinguished-looking man, with graying temples, in a black waffle-knit ski jacket. He paced back and forth, with his Android phone jammed to his ear.
    Hayley sidled up next to a very thick spruce tree, which hid her from his view. She crouched down and continued to eavesdrop on his conversation.
    â€œYou’re my lawyer! I was hoping you’d tell me what to do!” Ken wailed before catching himself and lowering his voice. “We both know I can’t be implicated in this. It would ruin me!”
    Hayley leaned forward into the spruce tree, moving some branches aside to get a closer look at Ken on the other side. He was rubbing his eyes and shaking his head.
    â€œThis is bad, Ted. Really, really bad,” Ken moaned.
    â€œHayley, did you hear a word I said? The Christmas skirts are all the way around back. You’re not even warm over here.”
    The voice startled Hayley and she lost her balance, falling into the tree, which tipped over and crashed to the ground just inches from Ken Massey, who spun around, alarmed.
    â€œWhat the hell!” Ken cried.
    The sight of Hayley lying in front of him on top of a fallen spruce tree suddenly clicked in Ken’s mind and his face soured. “Ted, I’m going to have to call you back. Bar Harbor’s very own ‘Miss Marbles’ just showed up on the scene.”
    Ken stuffed his phone in his coat pocket as Paul Applewood helped Hayley to her feet, brushing branches and twigs off her.
    â€œâ€˜Miss Marple,’” Hayley said quietly, turning to face Ken.
    â€œWhat?” Ken asked, annoyed.
    â€œIt’s ‘Miss Marple.’ You said ‘Marbles.’”
    â€œI don’t give a damn, Hayley! And I don’t appreciate you spying on me.”
    â€œOh, she wasn’t spying on you, Ken,” Paul Applewood said, trying to be helpful. “She was just looking for a Christmas tree skirt and got turned around. With all of these trees, it’s like a forest here—”
    â€œStay out of this, Paul!” Ken screamed.
    Paul Applewood reared back, stunned. He nodded and quickly shuffled off, mumbling, “I think I see some customers ready to pay for their tree.”
    Ken stepped forward, with his dark eyes fixed on Hayley. “Now you listen to me. I’ve heard all of the stories about you—how you poke your nose where it doesn’t belong, how you chase after people asking questions and pointing fingers. Well, I won’t allow you to do that to me. You can tell that police chief brother-in-law of yours that I have nothing to say about Garth Rawlings’s death because I don’t know anything about it. I’m as innocent as they come—and if he thinks differently, he can talk to Rusty Wyatt.”
    â€œRusty Wyatt? The paramedic?”
    â€œYes. Rusty’s a good buddy of mine. We met up at the gym last Thursday around four P.M. and worked out for about three hours. Crunch training, cardio, and weight lifting. We were on a roll. But then, Rusty had to take off because he was on call. Got word there was a dead body found at the scene of a fire. If your own paper is to be believed, Garth Rawlings died between five and seven.”
    â€œThat sounds about right.”
    â€œWell, then. I was with Rusty right up to the moment he left the gym to meet his fellow paramedic at the scene with the ambulance. And he will be more than happy to back me up. And that, my dear, is what you call an airtight alibi.”
    Hayley was inclined to believe him.
    Except for the fact he was fidgety and flustered and his eyes shifted back and forth and the finger he was waving in her face was shaking