Page 19 of Death By Llama (Friendship Harbor Mysteries #7)

THIRTEEN

“What are you doing?”

I jumped, sloshing more water out of the back of the coffee maker.

“Darn it.” I glanced toward the door to see Oliver standing there. His cheeks were flushed and his grimace created a furrow between his perfect eyebrows.

“I’m trying to make coffee,” I said, shifting the coffee maker to keep from dropping it totally. A coffee maker was surprisingly heavy once it was filled with water.

“By carrying it around the kitchen?”

I shot him a look, then hurried to set the heavy and wet machine back down on the counter. “I was moving it to another outlet. It wouldn’t turn on and I was hoping there was just something wrong with that outlet.”

“It’s not the outlet. The coffee pot doesn’t work.”

I gave a frustrated look. “Then why is it out on the counter?”

“Because I just haven’t had time to get rid of it.”

“Did you have time to get a new one?”

He gestured to a shelf on the other side of the kitchen. “When I told Henry that I was going to order a new one, he said it would be a lot nicer if we made our coffee with a French press.”

“Seriously?” I asked incredulously. I was going to have to make two cups at a time in a French press.

I sighed. “I wonder if we could just have Dave run us up some coffee from the pub,” I suggested. We did have a large spigoted carafe for special events.

“Why are we making coffee anyway?” Oliver asked as he went to retrieve a mop from the pantry off the kitchen.

“Cameron thought it would be a good idea to have some for the first responders,” I explained.

Oliver didn’t say much other than to make a slight face as he started mopping up the water I had spilled. I noticed he mopped a little more aggressively than necessary. I didn’t think it was because he was irritated about cleaning up my mess.

“Is everything okay with Henry?” I asked.

He nodded but didn’t say anything.

“Did you work through your fight?” I pressed further.

He stopped mopping and leaned on the handle.

“We sure did. We broke up. No more fight,” he said flatly. He began mopping again.

I stared at him for a moment. “Are—are you okay?”

He swiped the floor a couple more times, then leaned on the mop again. He sighed. “I’m fine. I knew it wasn’t working. He’s a good guy—but we just aren’t right for each other.”

I started to tell him I was feeling the same way about Cameron, but decided now wasn’t the time.

A, because I didn’t want to take away from his moment.

And B, especially because part of the reason why I was contemplating breaking up with Cameron was because I could even consider he might be a killer. Talking about one-upping.

“Of course, I’m upset,” he said, as he returned the mop to its place in the pantry. “Honestly, my bigger concern is that not only do I no longer have a boyfriend, I think it’s pretty safe to say I no longer have a job.”

I made a sympathetic face at him. Given the phone conversation I’d heard Cameron having, even if Oliver had stayed with Henry, I didn’t think he was going to have a job.

Cameron sounded ready to sell The Captain’s Inn or just walk away from it, impressive wood and all.

But I decided that this was not the time to say anything about that either.

“We’ll figure that out for you down the road. Right now, I guess we have to deal with what’s going on at the inn today.”

He nodded. “This whole grand opening sort of seems like it was cursed.”

“Isn’t there an old superstition in acting about if you play Santa, then you die young?”

“I thought that it was actors who played Jesus. Plus, Peanut wasn’t exactly a spring chicken.”

True. And I had a feeling that Nick was probably older than he claimed to be.

He seemed like the type. As soon as I thought that, I immediately felt guilty.

It wasn’t nice of me to think ill of the dead.

But then again, that ship had already sailed.

Nick gave no indication he was a nice guy in any way, although he certainly didn’t deserve to die.

But I could see him having more than a few people who might have motivation to want him dead.

I shoved aside my conflicted opinions about the man and focused on the shelf with the french presses. If I was going to make coffee for everyone, I guess I’d better get to work.

I spotted a kettle on the stovetop and grabbed it to fill with water. As I was putting it on the burner to heat up, I heard footsteps approaching the kitchen. I fully expected it to be Cameron looking for the coffee.

Instead, it was Justin.

“Hey,” he said. “Can I talk to you both for a bit?”

Oliver and I exchanged a look, then both nodded.

I just expected him to talk to us in the kitchen, but instead, he waved for us to follow him. He directed us to the dining room, where he had set up a command post with his computer, cell phone, and notebook. He gestured for us to take a seat at one of the tables. He settled across from us.

“Oliver, did you happen to hear or see anything this afternoon? Anything unusual?”

Oliver shook his head. “I was busy doing some paperwork in the office. I was also doing some of the housekeeping. I didn’t know anything was wrong until I heard a guest, Daphne, screaming.”

“You heard her?” Justin asked.

“Yes. I had the windows open in one of the rooms while I was changing the linens, so I could hear her when she found Nick.”

“But you didn’t hear a confrontation or hear Nick shout as he was falling?”

Oliver shook his head again.

“And do you know who was in the inn at the time of the incident?”

Oliver thought about it. “Some of the actors were here today. They booked a second night. I think they are—or were—planning to go to a theater performance in Southwest Harbor. I heard them talking about a small theater there that was doing a production of Mousetrap. I do know that a couple of them already left, heading back to Boston, but there were still at least three or four who decided to stay another night.”

“I would like a list.”

“Absolutely,” Oliver readily agreed.

“Do you know who was physically in the inn this afternoon?” Justin asked, making notes on a yellow legal pad.

Oliver thought about it for a moment. “Well, I know the one girl—I’m not sure what her name is—maybe Gemma—I can check registration.

Anyway, I know she was here because I could hear her laugh.

You can never miss her laugh. And I knew that Vance, the older gentleman, was here, but he had said something about going into town for lunch.

And Daphne did go into town. I saw her leaving. ”

“I saw her too,” I said. “She actually came to Steamy’s Pub.”

Justin made a note of that. “Do you have any idea what time that was?”

I pursed my lips, trying to recall. “Maybe around four. It had to have been around that time because George Sprague came in shortly after, and he always comes around four.”

“And did you see her leave?” Justin asked, as he made more notes.

“No. I was talking to Jimmy, then talking to Hannah in Jack’s stable, so I didn’t see her leave. But I’m sure Brandy or Dave saw her leave.”

Justin nodded, tapping the end of his pen against his pad of paper thoughtfully.

“I also have something you might want.” I dug in my jeans pocket to get the business card. I held it out to him.

Justin took it and inspected it.

“When did you find this?”

“I found it the night of the festival. By the rock wall. Basically right where Peanut fell.”

Justin inspected the card again. “So, we don’t really know when this message was passed along to the recipient. Or when they intended to meet.”

I shook my head. “But I do know that Nick was romantically involved with the co-owner of Opulent Occasions. And also with Daphne.”

Flipping through his notes, Justin found what he was looking for. “Ashley Wells? That’s who I have as the owner of Opulent Occasions. How do you know she was involved with Nick Grayson?”

“I saw them snogging in Bar Harbor today.”

Justin blinked. “That does seem pretty involved.”

“And I saw Nick and Daphne.” Oliver glanced at me, then used my phrasing. “Snogging during their stay here.”

Justin nodded. “Okay, that is interesting.”

“And while Daphne was at Steamy’s she made it clear that she knew about Ashley and she wasn’t pleased,” I told him.

Justin made a face, intrigued. He jotted down some notes.

After watching him log notes for a moment, I finally spoke up. “I assumed your questions mean you think Nick’s death might be suspicious.”

He looked up, his eyes flicking between me and Oliver. Finally, he let out a sigh. “You know I’m not supposed to share information with you.”

I had been prepared for that response. But he paused, studying me before exhaling again.

“But knowing how you are—and knowing you’re going to dig into this no matter what I tell you—then yes, I’ll say it.

This looks suspicious. Two people going over a cliff within days of each other?

That’s pretty darn suspicious. Not to mention, there are certain marks that don’t line up with the fall. ”

I tilted my head curiously. “Marks?”

Justin nodded, then hesitated before continuing. “There’s bruising on his face and scratches. But based on how he landed on the rocks, I don’t see how they all happened in the fall.”

“Interesting,” I murmured.

“And there was something else,” Justin said, although I could tell he was debating with himself if he should reveal it. He reached down beside his chair, where I realized he had his computer case. He pulled out something, which dangled in the air between us.

It took me a moment to realize it was a plastic baggie with something inside.

The setting sunlight cast a warm glow across the room, illuminating the curious object.

As I looked closer, I saw it was some kind of jewelry—or, well, I wasn’t entirely sure what it was.

I could tell it was metal, filigreed and intricate, almost resembling two small pie spatulas facing away from each other.

“What is that?” I asked, squinting at it.