Page 15 of Death By Llama (Friendship Harbor Mysteries #7)

TEN

“How was your afternoon in Bar Harbor?” Brandy asked from behind the bar as soon as I walked into Steamy’s.

Mostly annoying thanks to my mother. But I decided to focus on the news that wasn’t about me and my impending spinsterhood.

“It was interesting.”

Brandy gave me an inquiring look, her eyebrows raised as she finished filling a tumbler with soda.

“Did you go to Cool as a Moose?” Dave asked as he passed me with the tray of drinks.

I frowned in confusion. “What?”

“Did you go to Cool as a Moose? You know, the store with the cool moose logo making a peace sign.” With his free hand, he stuck up two fingers, apparently in case I didn’t know what the peace sign was.

“Um, no. We didn’t go there.” Clearly he didn’t know my mother. Moose, peace signs, and Lea Bieber did not mix.

“Bummer. I love that place.” He continued on to a table with a family of four seated around it.

I blinked after him, then turned back to Brandy. Dave definitely marched to the beat of his own drum.

“You said it was interesting?” she asked.

“Definitely. I saw Nick—you know, Saint Nick—in Bar Harbor with none other than Ashley.”

I waited expectantly for her reaction, but she only gave me a blank look.

“You know, Ashley,” I clarified. “The co-owner of Opulent Occasions.”

“Okay,” Brandy said, then understanding dawned on her. “ Oh . I thought he was involved with that brunette.”

“I think that brunette thinks so too,” I agreed. “But he also seemed pretty involved with Ashley as well.”

“Wow, scandalous.”

“That guy is super shady,” I said, settling onto one of the bar stools. “He is clearly romantically involved with Ashley.”

“So you actually saw them being romantic?” Brandy asked, grimacing. “I’m not sure I should even ask what that means.”

I made my own disgusted face at the idea of canoodling with Nick the egomaniac. “I saw them kiss and hold hands. And I don’t think from the way Ashley reacted that she has any idea he’s involved with another woman.”

“Wow,” Brandy repeated, shaking her head. “I’m so glad I’m off the market. I never have to doubt my relationship with Justin. He’s so loyal and honest and he works really hard to show me how much I mean to him.

I tried not to make another face. Somehow, every conversation with Brandy managed to go back to Justin and how amazing he was, but I had to remember her relationship was still new.

Although it needed to age quickly. I wasn’t sure I could stomach the gushing much longer.

Also, I had to question Justin’s ability to do his job well if he was spending all his time reassuring Brandy. My friend was needy, to say the least.

But none of that was what I wanted to discuss, no matter how much Brandy wanted to gush about Justin.

“I really think that this Nick guy could have killed Peanut.”

Brandy frowned. “Really? Just because of their fight? That seems far-fetched. It wasn’t even a real fight, just random shoving.”

I was surprised at her skepticism. Brandy usually jumped on any possible hint of a mystery. She was even more intrigued by being an amateur sleuth than I was.

“Well,” I said, trying not to sound defensive. “I mean, he’s proven himself to be not a particularly great person.”

“True, but it’s a leap to go from being a cheater to a murderer. Lots of people cheat and don’t kill anyone.”

“Who are we talking about?” Dave asked, sliding onto a stool next to me and setting down his now-empty tray.

“We’re talking about that actor Nick,” Brandy told him.

“Nick?” Dave looked between us, the name registering nothing with him.

“The guy who played Saint Nicholas at the Christmas in July event yesterday,” Brandy clarified. “The one who got in the fight with Peanut.”

Dave considered that for a moment. “I thought his name was Chris.”

We both gave him puzzled looks.

“Chris? Where’d you get that name?” Brandy asked.

“Maybe I was thinking of Kris Kringle instead of Father Christmas.”

Brandy and I looked at each other.

“I think he was playing Saint Nicholas,” I said. “Although, I guess they’re all the same.” And Father Christmas actually made the most sense since the event was supposed to be set in Victorian England. Not that it mattered.

“You think he’s a killer?” Dave asked, keeping his voice low, which I appreciated.

“I just feel like there’s more to what happened to Peanut than a drunk guy falling over a cliff,” I said.

“Although, doesn’t it seem like the most likely person to fall off a cliff would probably be the drunk guy?” Brandy pointed out.

Dave nodded at that, and I had to agree as well. She had a point. Everyone had a point.

“Plus, Justin said that it was definitely just an accident,” Brandy added.

So there was the crux of it. If Justin said accident, then Brandy wasn’t going to question it. That kind of put a crimp in her mystery-solving skills.

“It’s true,” I admitted, “that I don’t have any actual proof, but I feel like there has to be something to this,” I said. “I mean what he’s doing with that brunette and Ashley shows that he’s pretty unscrupulous.”

“Again, cheating doesn’t make you a murderer,” Brandy said. She actually rolled her eyes at me.

“I bet there’s a statistic somewhere that says how many cheaters murder or even how many murderers cheat.” Dave got out his phone to check.

Behind me, I heard the bells over the front door of the pub jingle.

“Speak of the devil,” Brandy said quietly, then pursed her lips. “Or rather, speak of the devil’s mistress.”

I turned to see who she was referring to. The brunette from dinner last night stood in the doorway.

“Mistress?” Dave asked, looking up from his phone. “Now I’m completely confused.”

I glanced back at him, smiling sympathetically. That wasn’t really an unusual state for Dave.

I tried to discreetly watch as the brunette walked up to the bar and took a seat a couple of stools away from us.

Her hair, which had been long, glossy, and straight the previous evening, was now pulled up into a sloppy bun at the back of her head.

A few strands hung down—not in an artful way, but rather as if she had thrown it up hastily.

Her face looked pale, and even from this angle, I could see that her eyes seemed puffy and red.

Brandy and I exchanged a look. Then my friend moved down the length of the bar and asked her if she’d like a drink.

The brunette didn’t hesitate. “Give me a shot of tequila and a beer.”

Well, clearly, she wasn’t messing around.

“Sure thing,” Brandy said amiably. But as soon as she turned away from the brunette, she shot us a wide-eyed, “whoa” type of expression. It was clear the brunette was going through something.

I watched the dark-haired woman for a moment longer, then slid off my stool and walked up to her.

“Excuse me,” I said with a friendly smile. “Aren’t you one of the actors who was at the festival yesterday?”

The brunette only glanced at me before focusing back on the phone she now held. She tapped at the screen for a moment and then finally said, “Yes. I was at the festival.” Her tone was dull and disinterested.

I sat down on the stool beside her. She pressed her lips together, not disguising her annoyance that I was bothering her. I ignored my impulse to just leave her alone.

“I think I saw you at dinner as well,” I said. “At The Captain’s Inn.”

She nodded, but I wasn’t sure if that meant she remembered seeing me as well, or if it was just a response.

“I’m sorry,” I said, smiling again. “I should at least introduce myself. I’m Sophie. I own this pub.”

The brunette nodded again. Definitely just an obligatory response. And one designed to let me know she wasn’t remotely interested in a chat.

Then she surprised me by saying, “I’m Daphne.”

Brandy returned, setting a pint of beer and a shot glass in front of Daphne. She poured tequila into the shot glass.

“Would you like a lime?” she asked.

Daphne shook her head, reaching immediately for the shot glass. She threw it back, then took a swig of her beer.

“I’ll take another,” she said, sliding the glass toward Brandy.

Brandy showed no reaction as she refilled it.

Daphne knocked back the second shot, banging the shot glass on the countertop once she was finished.

Brandy held up the bottle of tequila, but this time, Daphne shook her head and reached for her beer.

Brandy left to return the bottle to its position on the back bar.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

Daphne didn’t respond for a second. Then, she turned her head to look directly at me.

“Have you ever just dated a complete and total jerk?”

I smirked. “I think the question is how many of them have I dated.”

Daphne actually chuckled humorlessly at that. She raised her beer. “Amen, sister.”

She took a drink.

“Are you having man trouble?” I rolled my eyes at my own question. “Of course you’re having man trouble if you ask that.”

She nodded.

“Is it that actor I saw you with last night?” I asked gently. Then I waved a hand. “You don’t have to answer that.”

She sighed, staring into her beer. “It’s okay. Yeah, it’s him. Turns out he’s cheating on me.” Then she shrugged her shoulders slightly. “Well, actually, he was cheating on her with me, but he told me he was ending things with her. And turns out that isn’t true.”

“Oh, no, I’m sorry.” It was all I could think to say.

She turned to look at me again. “I know that doesn’t sound very good, does it?”

“I—um?—”

“I know it sounds stupid,” she said, saving me from having to find an appropriate response.

“But I really thought we had something special. We’ve been acting together for a few months.

We’re in an acting troupe from Boston, and he’s just such a talented guy and charming when he wants to be. And…I just fell for him.”

I nodded sympathetically.

“But he is an actor, so I’m sure some of that caring, charming person he showed me was just a character,” she said, then took a swig of her beer.

I didn’t know what to say to her. My gut told me that Nick was not a good person. Really not a good person.