Chapter 7
The walk over to Two Moons Inn gave me a little bit of time to get myself together.
Nate was an average looking guy. Tons of guys had similar profiles.
And a lot of people were in town for the damn regatta so a car with out of state plates wasn’t really that big of an ah-ha moment.
Law of averages said Tubbs did accidentally slip, fall, bash his head, and die.
Whatever fight he’d had with whoever (Anmorata.
It had to be her.) was just incidental. Maybe he was angry, I reasoned, stomping around.
He did like to stomp. Maybe he’d been expounding on the unfairness of the universe to Charlemagne, slipped, fell, died, and the cat ran and hid in the bathroom. The head. Heath had called it the head.
Or maybe... Maybe Anmorata bashed him over the head with that scotch bottle. Maybe she’d shoved him. And when he fell and didn’t back up, she ran for it.
Or maybe I was wrong on both counts and Tubbs had just dropped dead.
Damn it.
I kind of wished Ben hadn’t had to go back to Boston.
Max was neck deep in promotions for the rom com he’d shot last year but would drop what he could to talk to me.
.. but I knew how much of a pain in the ass that made him to his PR team.
Ben was usually pretty solid to talk to, quiet when I needed him to be and offering decent advice when I wanted it (though whether or not I took it was a different matter).
The idea of texting Ben anyway flitted through my head but was gone in a heartbeat, leaving a little bit of embarrassment in its wake that talking to Max never caused.
Ugh. So do not want to unpack that.
Sienna Moon was doing something violent to a bowl of potatoes when I knocked on the inn’s back door. “Come in! Wipe your feet first! Better yet, take off your shoes! Leave them on the steps!”
I did as she ordered, toeing off my lime green Chucks and tucking the laces in before setting them neatly on the top step, just outside the back door. “Need a hand?”
“Nah. Just making some mash for the guests,” she grunted, giving the medieval torture device she was using a hard crank.
“Carmel bought this stupid mill at an estate sale in Marblehead. The old guy had an industrial kitchen or something screwy. She got this thing,” she gave the mill a slap on its shiny metal outside, “a potato ricer you could fit a kid in, a bunch of knives...” she trailed off, shaking her head.
“I’m gonna cut her off from watching those cooking shows.
She gets aspirations after a season of Kitchen Whimsy. ”
I pressed my lips together to hide my smile. “I’m sure she just thought she was making things easier.”
Sienna snorted softly, returning to the milling of the potatoes into a fine mash.
“She thinks she’s gonna get a Michelin star or something on this place.
I keep telling her we don’t need to make things so complicated.
People aren’t coming to the inn for fancy food and shit.
And now she’s trying her hand out at catering.
Or should I say our hand since I’m the one puttin’ in the sweat equity here. ”
“Your food’s delicious,” I offered, perching on one of the high stools at the end of the well-scrubbed countertop. “You sure I can’t help?”
“I got this,” she said, straining as she gave the crank a hard pull.
It made a scraping noise, then seemed to ease up if her sigh was anything to go by.
“Milled potatoes. Like we’re some sort of snooty restaurant.
..” She gave the crank one more good shove then stood back, glaring at the potatoes in victory.
“There. Should do.” Sienna gave me a look as she went to wash her hands at the farmhouse style sink next to me.
“You’re looking more suspicious than usual. ”
“Me?” I feigned shock, splaying my fingers against my chest. “I’m the very picture of innocence.”
“Lying liar who lies,” she smirked, reaching for a hand towel.
“Heard you killed that Tubbs fellow. Also heard you killed Renee. And Charlie. And Ben. Though I did see him yesterday and he was lookin’ like his usual lively self so unless you’re adding necromancy to your list of skills, I’m pretty sure that one was bullshit.
” She paused, her usual stern expression softening for just a moment.
“So’s the rest. I know it. The people in this town whose heads aren’t up their own backsides know it.
Whoever’s decided they’re paparazzi are dumb as toast.”
Her kindness stung my eyes and tightened my throat.
“Thanks,” I muttered. “I mean, I know in the grand scheme of things the people who care won’t believe it, but professionally it’ll make things even worse than they already are.
No one wants to tie their project to a gossip magnet.
” I paused, considering. “Well, not one like me anyway. If it’s like Hugh Grant or something that’s different. ”
“Your agent have anything to say about it?” she asked, reaching for a basket full of pretty rolls with glossy crusts. I took one and bit into it, sighing at the perfection.
“No. I mean, if he has, it’s not to me. I should probably check on that.” Now that I was thinking about it, Rory was suspiciously quiet about the whole thing. Not one email, text, or call about strike while the iron is hot, Damien or capitalizing on my notoriety.
That couldn’t be good.
“You think?” She selected her own roll before putting the basket back on the counter. “Your folks see any of it yet?”
I winced. “Kinda don’t want to check Mom’s texts, to be honest.”
Sienna shook her head, lifting her eyes ceilingward.
“Trust me when I say that’s the worst thing to do, ignore a worried mother.
That’s how I ended up with my mom banging on my dorm room door at three in the morning my senior year at Bowdoin, threatening to call the cops on the resident assistant for not unlocking my door. ”
The surprise in my voice was probably not flattering. “You went to Bowdoin?”
She hummed in agreement, going to the stove to put a large pot on one of the burners.
“Clam chowder for dinner Tonight, for the out of towners,” she added with a hint of disdain.
“And don’t sound so surprised about us going to college, Mister Movie Star.
Me and Carmel have degrees in literature and art conservation.
” She glanced back with a surprising wink.
“I’ll let you figure out who’s got what.
Now, you ain’t here to talk about my schooling or to help me with dinner.
If I had to guess, it’s because you’re a Nosy Parker. ”
“I’d protest but you know me better than that.”
She went to the fridge and pulled out a small tray of vegetables, setting it in front of me. “Here. Eat while we talk.”
I nibbled on the roll and some carrot sticks while filling her in on my stop by the tea shop. “Belinda seemed kind of freaked out about it,” I added. “Like she’s afraid of that Anmorata woman.”
Sienna tipped her face skyward and shook her head. “That Anmorata girl is playing fast and loose with her own safety. Carmel’s not a violent woman but she came pretty near to it on Thursday because of that girl and that asshole Tubbs.”
“Wow. Not a big fan of not speaking ill of the dead?” I asked, selecting a carrot stick and dipping it into some chunky hummus. “This is really good.”
“Carmel. She’s good at dips and such. And if the dead want to be spoken of kindly, they should be kind in life.”
“Can’t argue with that much,” I sighed. “And yeah, I’m snooping.
Professional curiosity I suppose.” Sienna raised her brow at me in a bemused, slightly disapproving expression.
“Not because I think I’m a PI or something,” I hastened to add.
“I just knew Tubbs in LA. He wasn’t a nice guy then. Liked to hurt people with words.”
Sienna hummed dismissively, turning back to doing horrible things to some shellfish on the stove. “He was a jerk to everyone. And I’m not saying he deserved whatever happened but it couldn’t have happened to a more deserving fellow.”
“Wow,” I laughed uneasily.
She sniffed. “The Sentinel said it was an accident aboard his boat.”
“The what now?”
“Sentinel.” She shot me an unamused look over her shoulder. “The town paper? Comes in print and online format? Really, Damien, we do read the news here!”
“Sorry! I just thought it was the Post or something.”
“The Post,” she sneered, smacking a shell as she got back to work.
“That rag! The Sentinel is the real news. And they reported Tubbs had a slip an’ fall on his boat.
Not uncommon. People playin’ at sailor, they don’t watch their heads when the boom comes ‘round and splash. Or they forget the damn things move with the water, they’re not houses for crying out loud. ”
“So you’re on Team Slip and Fall?”
“I’m on Team Not My Problem. Well,” she hesitated. “Maybe he still is. He was supposed to be staying here, you know. Not on his fancy boat.”
“He change his mind?” That would be a very Tubbs thing to do, I thought. Put someone out and then pretend like it wasn’t his problem.
Sienna snorted. “Nope. I did. Carmel wanted me to back down but no way in Hell was I going to let him stay on here. He and that cat were in our place—we live here, for crying out loud!—for four hours and the room was absolutely trashed! Trashed, Damien! I can’t even look at it right now and we have a wedding party coming in at the end of next week that has it reserved! ”