printed copy

Death of a Kitchen Diva: A Hayley Powell Food and Cocktails Mystery

Lee Hollis

ISBN 9780758267375
Publish Date 3/6/2012
Format Paperback
Categories Kensington, Cozy
List Price: $7.99

Other Editions


Welcome to Bar Harbor, Maine, one of New England’s most idyllic coastal towns. But as new food writer Hayley Powell is about to find out, the occasional murder can take a bite out of seaside bliss…

Single mom Hayley Powell is barely keeping her leaking roof over her head when her boss at the Island Times gives her a new assignment—taking over the paper’s food column. Hayley’s not sure she has the chops—she’s an office manager, not a writer, even if her friends clamor for her mouth-watering potluck dishes. But the extra income is tempting, and Hayley’s chatty first column is suddenly on everyone’s menu—with one exception.

When rival food writer Karen Appelbaum is found face-down dead in a bowl of Hayley’s creamy clam chowder, all signs point to Hayley. To clear her name, she’ll have to enlist some help, including her BFFs, a perpetually pregnant lobster woman, and a glamorous real estate agent. As she whips up a list of suspects, Hayley discovers a juicy secret about the victim—and finds herself in a dangerous mix with a cold-blooded killer.

Includes seven delectable recipes from Hayley’s kitchen!

“What a delicious debut mystery!” –Laura Levine

“A delicious read that I ate up in one sitting.” –Isis Crawford

More Mouth-Watering Praise For Lee Hollis And Hayley Powell!

“Sleuth Hayley Powell slides down as easily as one of her Lemon Drop Martinis (recipe included) and readers will be calling for a second round from author Lee Hollis.” --Leslie Meier, author of Chocolate Covered Murder

“Delicious and satisfying. Another course, please.” –Carolyn Hart

More Mouth-Watering Praise For Lee Hollis And Hayley Powell!

“Sleuth Hayley Powell slides down as easily as one of her Lemon Drop Martinis (recipe included) and readers will be calling for a second round from author Lee Hollis.” --Leslie Meier, author of Chocolate Covered Murder

Chapter One

Hayley Powell stood at the stove in her tiny, cramped kitchen, which would embarrass any self-respecting chef, stirring her homemade mush­room Bolognese sauce with a wooden ladle, and wondering where the time had gone. It was three years to the day since her divorce was finalized. And the thought of dating again had never even crossed her mind. Until now. Hayley had decided to take a chance and accept an invitation to dinner from a strapping six-foot­two, deep-voiced hunk of man who had been pur­suing her. She had been dragging her heels, making up excuses like she wasn’t emotionally ready, or work was too busy, or there was some­thing going on with one of her kids. She had basi­cally exhausted her supply of reasons to avoid going out with him.

So when her admirer kept pushing the issue, she finally gave up, threw her hands up in the air, and uttered that one dreaded word. “Yes.” And then she immediately agonized over it.

Why did she have to say something so stupid as “Yes”? Especially when “No” was so much easier. If she had just said “No,” right now she would be curled up on her couch, petting Leroy, her dirty white Shih Tzu with a pronounced underbite, and sipping a Lemon Drop Martini, while settling in for a cheesy yet addictive Lifetime TV movie star­ring Jennifer Love Hewitt.

She turned the heat up on the burner and reached for a package of pasta shells to pour into another pot of boiling water, when the sauce bub­bled up and splashed on her dress. Hayley stared numbly at the dripping stain for a moment. She refused to let this minor catastrophe get the best of her. No, Hayley thought to herself, she was going to remain calm and collected and solve this.

Think, Hayley, think. Club soda. There had to be some club soda in the fridge to blot out the stain. She crossed the kitchen and opened the re­frigerator door just as her thirteen-year-old son, Dustin, strolled by, swigging down the last of the club soda and tossing the empty bottle into the re­cycle bin out on the porch of their small two-story house on a quiet neighborhood street.

“When’s dinner? I’m starving,” Dustin said, his eyes drooping as he scratched his blond hair, before wandering back into the living room to finish watching a rerun of Family Guy.

“Five minutes,” Hayley said, desperately rear­ranging the items in the fridge to get a good look at everything, her hopes fading that she would find another bottle of club soda.

It was time to try something else. She hurried into the laundry room, only to find a giant pile of clothes on the washer, stacked so high her son’s Superman T-shirt on top nearly touched the ceil­ing. She hadn’t done a load in almost a week so finding another outfit that didn’t smell like dirty socks and was not covered in dog hair was com­pletely out of the question. Maybe she should cancel the date until she could get it cleaned.

Yes. That’s what she would do.

Hayley looked up at the clock above the washer/ dryer. It was already a quarter to seven. Her date was due to arrive in fifteen minutes. How rude would that be, canceling at the last minute? He’d just have to understand.

“Mom! Have you seen yourself in the mirror?” Hayley’s fifteen-year-old daughter, Gemma, said as she burst through the front door just as Hayley hurried out of the laundry room.

“Is the stain that noticeable?”

Gemma glanced at the front of her mother’s dress. “Yes. But I’m talking about your makeup. Did you let Jessica at the salon do your face again? You know she makes you look like a two-dollar hooker.”

Gemma, still in her soccer uniform, her long blond hair pulled back in a ponytail, followed her mother into the kitchen and set her knapsack down on the counter. She opened it and pulled out a hand mirror and shoved it into Hayley’s hand.

Hayley didn’t want to see the damage. She knew it was going to be bad. But it was like coming upon a car wreck. You just can’t help but look. “Jesus wept!” Hayley cried. Her face was so caked with makeup she looked like something from Madame Tussaud’s Wax Museum. The mascara was so dark it appeared she hadn’t slept in weeks. And the Strawberry Frost lipstick Jessica had raved about made her lips look so big and fat, her date would probably be accused of punching her in the mouth before they were even seated at the restaurant.

“You’re right, I can’t go out looking like this.” Suddenly the sauce stain on her dress seemed like an afterthought as she grabbed a dishrag from the counter and started furiously wiping the gunk off her face. Gemma, who was fit and statuesque and already taller than her mother, steered her toward the staircase. “I’ll finish making dinner. You go find something in my closet to wear.”

“Your closet? I can’t go out looking like a Gossip Girl,” Hayley wailed. Hayley hadn’t gotten up three steps when a commercial came on the TV and Dustin, who never ever took his eyes off the television, hap­pened to glance out the window.

“Somebody just pulled into the driveway,” he said, then picked up the remote and started chan­nel surfing.

“No, this isn’t happening. He’s early.”

“By the way, it just started raining,” Dustin said, cracking a smile.

“It’s not funny. You know my hair frizzes when it rains,” Hayley said. Dustin nodded and then burst out laughing. “Yeah. You look like a Chia Pet!” “You’re so close to being grounded. Show some respect,” Hayley warned but she knew it was pointless. Dustin was already doubled over, his face red, guffawing. Gemma rushed out of the kitchen with two plates of shells and sauce sprinkled with some grated Parmesan cheese and handed one to her brother. “Here’s your dinner. Now scram and give Mom some space,” Gemma said, grabbing the remote away from him with her free hand and shutting off the television. “And take Leroy.”

The Shih Tzu had already sensed a car in the driveway and was yapping with all his might and running around in circles. Leroy talked a good game but he was a tiny wimp and could probably be taken out by a large Maine Coon cat.

Dustin reached down and scooped him up, then barreled past his mother with his dinner and disappeared upstairs to his room.

Gemma saw the panicked look on her mother’s face and put down her plate on the coffee table and gave her a hug. “You look beautiful. Honest. You do.”

Hayley wasn’t quite ready to believe her.

Gemma smiled. “He didn’t ask out your dress or your hair or your makeup. He asked you out. And you’re great. So there’s nothing to worry about.” “Stop it,” Hayley said. “You’ll make me cry.”

“Good. Maybe it’ll wash away some of that crap on your face,” Gemma said as she picked up her dinner plate and bounded up the stairs.

“Tomorrow night we do a family dinner, just the three of us, at the dining room table. No more eating in your rooms and chatting with friends on the computer.”

“Yes, Mother dear,” Gemma said with her usual sarcastic tone as she slammed the door to her bed­room shut.

Hayley took a deep breath. She heard footsteps walking onto the front porch. She sucked her thumb and futilely tried to rub the stain out of her dress. No go. That sauce was there to stay. Her date would just have to deal with her disastrous appearance.

Of course, of all the men she could have gone out with, it would have to be Lex Bansfield.

Lex was tall, dark, sexy, and had a good job as a caretaker at one of the large sprawling seaside es­tates in the coastal tourist town of Bar Harbor, Maine, where they lived. He had only moved to the island four years ago, so he was still consid­ered fresh meat by all the unattached women in town. And a few of the attached ones, too.

Hayley and Lex were planning to dine at Ha­vana, an upscale Cuban restaurant at the end of Main Street, where the Obamas had dined when they vacationed in town one summer. Hayley and Lex would surely be spotted there by a few locals so she knew the whole town would be buzzing.

Hayley put on her brightest smile and opened the door. But Lex wasn’t standing there for her to greet. It was two uniformed police officers. Both were young, no more than twenty-five, one tall and lanky, the other shorter and bald with a goatee. She instantly recognized both of them. “Hi, Donnie. Hi, Earl,” Hayley said, her smile replaced with a look of confusion. “How can I help you?”

Hayley used to babysit both of them when they were little boys and she was a teenager. She couldn’t believe how fast they had grown up. And she couldn’t help but be surprised by the fact that both of them had become cops. Mostly because they were hell-raisers and a handful when she was put in charge of them—and she had expected them to both wind up in prison someday.

Donnie, the taller one, couldn’t look Hayley in the eye. She noticed he was shaking a little bit. “We’re here . . .”

He couldn’t bring himself to say it.

“I’m in a bit of a rush so if you could just spit it out, please?” Hayley said.

Earl, the shorter one, cleared his throat and stepped forward. “We’re here to place you under arrest, Mrs. Powell.”

Hayley laughed. “I’m sorry, what?”

Earl unlatched some handcuffs from his belt. “You’re under arrest.” Hayley still thought it was some kind of joke. “For what?”

“Murder,” Donnie piped in, finally getting a little braver.

There was a stunned silence as Hayley processed what was happening. “This isn’t funny, you guys.”

“No, ma’am, it isn’t,” Donnie said as he gently turned her around. “Place your hands behind your back please, Mrs. Powell.”

“You have the right to remain silent,” Earl said as he snapped the handcuffs on Hayley. “You have the right to an attorney . . .”

Earl turned to Donnie. “Is that right? Is attorney next?”

“Yes, I think so,” Donnie answered.

Hayley thought of her kids. She didn’t want them to see their mother being carted off in hand­cuffs. She called out, “I’m leaving now! I won’t be too late!”

She heard muffled grunts and replies from up­stairs. They weren’t really paying attention, and Hayley decided for once that was a good thing. Donnie and Earl escorted Hayley toward a squad car, and she noticed a couple of neighbors peer­ing out their windows, engrossed in all the action happening in her driveway. She thought it couldn’t get any more humiliating.

And that’s when Lex Bansfield pulled into the driveway in his jeep. He was wearing a nice blue dress shirt with a white T-shirt underneath, khaki pants, and shiny black shoes, a far cry from his usual Eddie Bauer work boots. He looked so hand­some, and as he stepped out of the jeep with a shocked look on his face, Hayley noticed he was gripping a beautiful bouquet of red roses in his fist.

Hayley offered up her best smile. “Lex, would you mind if we postponed our date?”

Lex nodded, a little too stunned by the scene to reply.

“At least until I can make bail.”

And with that, Officers Donnie and Earl stuffed Hayley into the back of their police cruiser and shut the door.

About Lee Hollis:

Lee Hollis is the pen name for a brother and sister writing team. Rick Copp is a veteran Hollywood writer/producer and also the author of three other mystery novel series under his own name and Lee Hollis. He lives in Palm Springs, CA. Holly Simason is an award-winning food and cocktails columnist who lives in North Carolina. You can follow them on Facebook (Lee Hollis), Twitter (@leehollisbooks) and Instagram (leehollisbooks).

Photo Credit: Lisa Gizara

Average Customer Review

Based on 1 review

Customer Review

“A Light & Zany Cozy That Will Bowl You Over (Tuesday, July 3, 2012)
Reviewer: Nancy Narma

Hayley Powell, divorced Mom of Teens; Gemma and Dustin, and furry family member/Shih Tzu; Leroy, works as “Office manager” for one of Bar Harbor, Maine’s two newspapers, “The Island Tines”. She had enjoyed her job, but is now bored, and she can hardly make household ends meet. Hayley decides to ask her boss; Sal Moretti, for a raise. Blaming the economy for a decrease in readership, he says no. However, when 96 yr. old Home and Garden Columnist; Harriet Jenkins, retires from her post, Hayley is offered the position. Hayley stews after accepting, as she feels she’s not a writer and asks her brother; Randy (owner of the local hotspot/bar; “Drinks Like A Fish”) and her two best friends; “Forever Pregnant” and Lobster Co. owner; Mona Barnes and “Fashionista of Bar Harbor”; Liddy Crawford for advice. They offer encouragement but, with her first unique “Island Food and Spirits” column comes her Boss’s ire, grumbling from a perhaps jealous co-worker; Bruce Linney and a truly ticked-off cooking columnist from the rival paper; Karen Applebaum. Karen figured when Hattie retired, the Times would drop the column, so discontent and discord started to brew. After a flustered Hayley met an irate Karen in the local bank, Hayley , in her haste to leave the confrontation, hit the tall, hunky groundskeeper for wealthy Edgar Hollingsworth; Lex Bansfield, who was striding across the crosswalk with her car! She whisks him to the emergency room and while waiting as he gets treated, tries the mediocre-at-best hospital fare and decides her Mother’s recipe for New England Clam Chowder would be the highlight of the next column. After coaxing the recipe from her paranoid Mama and writing it on an old lottery ticket, she scurries to the store for ingredients. Whose cart does she run into? Karen Applebaum’s! Everything spills out of her purse, including the prized recipe, which is picked up by Karen and used in her own column. Shocked and upset, Hayley continues to put the chowder recipe in her column as well. The showdown comes at the Library Bake Sale when push comes to shove, complete with a heat of the moment threat. Later, Hayley receives an email from Karen, apologizing and inviting Hayley to her house to discuss their food columns. Hayley is surprised but goes, hoping for a truce. She arrives and finds the house dark, the front door unlocked, and Karen dead in the kitchen, face down in a bowl of clam chowder. Who could have committed this heinous crime? All fingers point to Hayley, noting their public disputes, and especially when evidence is discovered. But did she despise Karen that much? Or was it Karen’s unscrupulous ex-husband; Martin Applebaum? Perhaps Lex Bansfield or Bruce Linney had motives? You’ll especially enjoy Brazilian- Born Police chief/ Randy’s Boyfriend; Sergio Alvares, with his “Ricky Ricardo-ness”. The Author has included recipes in this volume, from Randy’s famous “Lemon Drop Martini” to the highlighted “New England Clam Chowder” and beyond. I enjoyed this light and zany cozy and look forward to Hayley’s next adventure, coming to us in November, 2012--a chapter from which has been included at the end of the book to whet our appetites. Nancy Narma

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