Page 12 of Death By Llama (Friendship Harbor Mysteries #7)

EIGHT

I sat up, focusing on the door. From this distance, and the thick, high quality of the oak door—back to wood again—I could only make out every other word or so. But the tone was harsh and sharp. There was no missing that.

Carefully, I eased off the bed, wincing slightly as the bell on my left shoe clanked, just a slight tinny noise as the pellet in the jingle bell shifted. There was no way the person out in the hall could have heard it, but I needed to be careful.

“Easy does it,” I murmured to myself as I slid my slippered feet over the New England braided rug in its muted colors of pale blue and sage green. One thing was true, Cameron had a great eye for details.

As I got closer to the door, I could make out more of the conversation.

“What do you mean I should just calm down?”

There was a pause, and I realized that the person on the other side of the door was probably talking on a phone.

“Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. I know I got the lead, but I don’t even want him involved in the project, period. He’s not a good actor. And, frankly, this is my big break. I don’t need somebody making me look bad.”

I leaned back from where I had had my ear pressed against the door and stared at the wood panel. I knew exactly who the deep voice belonged to. That was Nick.

I’d been right at dinner. He had gotten a role over that other actor, Vance.

“Listen. I am not having Vance Taylor make this movie into a bomb. I want you to tell the higher-ups that I’ll walk before I’ll be in a movie with that untalented hack.”

I blinked at the door again, cringing. Was this Nick guy insane?

You didn’t tell people in the acting industry what you would or wouldn’t do—especially not when you were coming out of an acting troupe in Boston.

He just played Saint Nick, for heaven’s sake.

He wasn’t exactly in a position to make too many demands.

There was a longer pause, as who I assumed was his agent probably tried to tell him the same thing.

“Alright,” Nick said. “Alright. Yeah, I guess if you think that’s the best way to handle it. But I’m telling you right now, I do not want to be in a movie with him. He is not going to make me look bad.”

There was another moment of silence and then a muttered curse. I heard Nick’s footsteps move down the hallway, away from my parents’ hotel room door.

I stayed motionless, focused on hearing any tiny noise. After a few moments, I blew out the breath I had been holding. Nothing. Not a sound.

I sagged against the wood panel. Wow. This Nick guy was really a piece of work. I knew from my time in acting that you couldn’t be a diva and expect to actually get jobs, especially with no track record behind you. But that wasn’t slowing this guy down at all.

Sure, he had a good look—rugged and handsome—but silver fox or not, I wasn’t sure what he was basing his arrogance on.

I thought back to his behavior earlier today.

How he had reacted to Peanut as if wandering around a small town festival as Saint Nicholas was going to be totally destroyed by some old local in a shabby Santa suit.

My mind paused on that. He’d said a similar thing about Peanut. That the drunk, old man was going to ruin his gig today. Would that be enough reason for a drama queen Saint Nick to walk by and just give Peanut a little heave-ho over the edge of the cliff?

It didn’t seem plausible.

But when it came to acting and egos, anything was possible.

Listening for a moment again, just to be sure the coast was clear, I slowly turned the door knob. I poked my head out, looking one way, then the other. The hallway was empty.

I stepped outside the room, gently closing the door behind me.

Then, shuffling like a zombie penguin, I made my way down the hall, trying not to let the bells on my elf shoes signal I was there.

The stairs were a little tricky, requiring me to carefully set each foot on the steps one at a time, but somehow I made it down to the front hallway.

I could hear chatter in the dining room, and things seemed to be normal—jovial, even.

That was a good sign. I beelined straight for the front door. Hand on the doorknob, about to turn it, a voice behind me made me jump.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

I whipped around to see Oliver giving me a questioning look. “I just decided to step out for a little bit of fresh air.”

He raised an eyebrow, disbelievingly. “Mm-hm.”

“Okay,” I admitted. “I was going to go walk down to the rock wall and see if I could find anything.”

“Find anything?”

I nodded. “Yeah. I just—well, you know me. My curiosity’s getting to me.”

Oliver made a face but then chuckled. “I do know you, and I’m surprised you made it this long. Want some company? I don’t think I can take any more of that blonde girl’s laughter. I feel like I’m eating dinner with Columbia from Rocky Horror Picture Show .”

My eyes widened, and I pointed a finger at him. “Yes. Yes. That’s exactly who I was trying to think of earlier too!”

Oliver moved to join me, snagging a windbreaker off a coat tree next to the front door. He held it out toward me.

“This is Maine in summer, and we’re right on the ocean. It’s bound to be damp and chilly.”

He turned back to grab one for himself.

“Do you just have these as extras?”

He nodded. “Yes. It’s good to have them for the guests.”

“Smart.”

Oliver grinned. “I can excel at hospitality when I want to.”

I pulled my raincoat on and slipped out the front door. The ocean breeze did have a bit of a bite to it, and I could smell the saltwater. In the distance, I could hear the waves crashing.

The sun set later given that it was July, but all signs of the bright sunshine were gone.

The horizon past the ocean was an indigo purple, and without any lights to interfere with the night sky.

I could see millions of pinpoints of light—stars scattered across the heavens.

Gazing up at the sky in Maine never got old.

“So, what are we looking for?” Oliver asked.

“I don’t know specifically,” I said.

“Well, something is making you suspicious.”

I glanced over at Oliver, barely able to make out his features as we walked across the lawn.

“I overheard that Nick guy complaining about that other actor. The one he was just snarky to in the dining room. Apparently, Vance—I think that’s his name—also got a part in the movie Nick’s involved in, and ye ole St. Nick is not pleased. ”

“What does this have to do with Peanut attempting to fly without his sleigh?”

I gave him a look, even though I knew he couldn’t see it. “I heard him saying that this was going to ruin the movie, and it got me thinking about how he kept repeating that Peanut had ruined his gig as Saint Nicholas. I just thought maybe he gave him a little nudge as a bit of revenge.”

Even in the darkness, I could see Oliver nodding his head. “Nick does seem like a real narcissist. I’ve had to do acting jobs with people like him. They’re terrible to work with.”

“Definitely the type of guy who would do whatever he needed to to get ahead,” I told Oliver.

“But even at something local like this? I don’t know. That’s next level.”

I reached into my pocket to retrieve my phone, tapping on the flashlight.

“I don’t necessarily think we’ll find anything, but I figured it couldn’t hurt to look.”

Oliver nodded again. “It’s more interesting than listening to the blonde cackle and your dad and Cameron talk about their golf scores.”

He pulled out his cell phone and turned on the light.

“Are you okay with the fact Henry didn’t tell you about their little golf outing?” I began slowly illuminating the lawn as we got up to the rock wall.

“I don’t want to go, but it would be nice to be asked.”

I could hear the disappointment in his voice, and I totally understood.

“I just don’t think they even think to ask,” I said, waving my flashlight back and forth along the grass.

Oliver did the same with his light. “I think you’re right, and I don’t know how well that works for me in a relationship.”

Something white on the lawn close to the wall caught the light. I bent down to pick it up.

“What did you find?” Oliver moved beside me to see it.

“It’s a business card for Opulent Occasions.”

“Anyone could have dropped that.” He shined his own light on the rectangular card stock with its foil font.

“I don’t even have business cards,” I said, still studying it.

“Why would you have business cards? Everyone already knows Steamy’s Pub,” Oliver pointed out, starting to wave his flashlight systematically along the ground again. “Plus, you aren’t going to events like these. Social media is where it’s at anyway.”

He was right. Maybe I should be trying to get people on a mailing list for the pub or something. I flipped the card over.

I held my phone light right over the blank side of the card. Except it wasn’t blank.

Meet me at the cliffs.

“Oliver, look at this.”

He whipped toward me, his phone light blinding me for a second.

“What?”

I blinked a couple times, then thrust the card out to him.

Oliver read it, then gave me a surprised look. “I’m not sure this is solid evidence of Peanut being murdered, but it does seem as if someone might have been up to something suspicious.”

“Agreed, and maybe Peanut saw something that got him killed.”

“Maybe, but that seems like a stretch. It sounds more like someone arranging a hookup. And Peanut was very drunk. I’m still leaning toward an accident.”

“Yeah.” I was leaning that direction too, but I still tucked the business card in the pocket of the windbreaker.

I walked up to the wall. I scanned the rocks.

None of the stones appeared missing or knocked loose.

Aiming my phone light down over the edge of the cliff, leaning over the wall as much as I dared.

I held out my phone and peered down. The light didn’t cut through the darkness to the water and rocks below.

“Do you think the tide is out?” I called out to Oliver, who still swept his phone flashlight over the lawn.