Page 105 of Beach Reads and Deadly Deeds

The one oddity was that all the pictures had been posted the same day—Sunday. But that didn’t mean she’d taken them on the day she disappeared.

None of the pictures were captioned, so no clues there. I guess it’s supposed to be artistic to just post a picture without captions or hashtags, but it was annoying when I needed more clues as to who Diana was blackmailing—and where she’d hidden the documents that Amber and Parker were looking for.

I looked around the bar, and it took a minute, but I found the vase that was in Diana’s photo. I inspected it. Maybe she left clues in these locations? I picked up the vase; it was heavier than it appeared. Nothing underneath—no writing, paper, message of any kind. I put it back down. Either I was way off track, or Amber had already found any message Diana had left.

“Lose something?”

I jumped, whirled around, and put my hand to my heart. “Luis! You startled me.”

He grinned. “Sorry. Come have a drink with me?”

“It’s ten in the morning.”

“Island time,” he said, and I followed him to the bar.

Callie came over and said, “What can I get you, Luis?”

“Coffee with a splash of Jack, por favor.”

Callie put a mug on the bar, filled it with rich-smelling coffee, and poured Jack Daniel’s into an oversized shot glass. She smiled at me. “Same?”

“Just the coffee, with sugar.”

Callie placed a steaming mug in front of me, and I savored the smell before I sipped.

Luis’s “splash” was the entire shot.

Maybe I wouldn’t have to sneak around the office if I could get Luis to talk.

Keeping my voice low, I asked, “I have a couple questions?”

Why was I so nervous?

“I might have answers,” he said with a smile.

“Well, I, um.” I cleared my throat. “I was curious if you had a run-in with Diana Harden. The guest who ended up killed?”

That soundedsobad.

“A run-in? I don’t know what you mean.”

“Well—when I went to St. John yesterday, I uncovered some information that I don’t think the police know.”

“Oh?”

I couldn’t tell if he was just being polite or was really interested.

“I found a boy who said he brought Diana to Ethan Valentine’s dock on Sunday evening. Around sunset.”

“Aww. I see.”

But he didn’t elaborate. So I continued. “Ethan Valentine is your great-nephew?”

“Yes, that he is.”

“I was reading a book the other day, the book someone took from my room. Someone—I think Diana—had written in themargins, and there was a reference to you being nosy. She wrote it, not me!” I added quickly.

He laughed, and I was relieved I hadn’t insulted him.