Chapter 7 #2
So he was without a place to stay, kind of.
And he’d decamped to the boat with his cat in tow.
He’d fought with not only the Moons but this Anmorata Blue person as well.
.. Okay, to be absolutely honest with myself (ugh), none of it added up to murder but it definitely did the math to wind up as weird.
Or maybe not so much weird as... icky. Now, Damien, you’re being paranoid, my inner Max chided.
He was always the voice of reason in our relationship but that really was kind of damning with faint praise, considering some of my past decisions.
Can you blame me, though? I asked that annoying inner bestie. I know you remember Renee Rhoades. And Charlie and—
Sienna lobbed a bit of potato peel at me. “You’re doing a terrible job at being nosy. Not even listening.”
“Sorry,” I muttered sheepishly, flicking the potato peel towards the sink. “I was just thinking how one of the last thing Tubbs ever did was get into fights with people.”
Sienna stared at me for a long, quiet moment.
“On Thursday afternoon, Carmel and I were setting up for tea. One of the women started screeching about how could he, he would ruin everyone’s lives, calling him names even I didn’t know.
” With a ferocious twist, she turned up the heat under the pot of chowder before turning to glare in my direction.
“I went up to see what the fuss was about and that room was destroyed. The rug was torn, the bedding was trod on, cat piss everywhere. Not a litter pan in sight!”
“He’s potty trained,” I muttered, frowning. The cat was potty trained but there was no bathroom attached to any of the bedrooms in the inn.
Why would he have done that? I knew Tubbs was vile but seriously?
“Potty trained,” Sienna repeated, incredulous. “Well, he must’ve forgotten because he pissed all over that handmade ring quilt we had on the bed. And the hand-knotted rug. And the floors. And—”
“My mom used to work for one of those services that helps hoarders clean up,” I offered. “Sometimes it was pretty extreme. Want me to ask her how they used to do it?”
Sienna didn’t answer outright, just gave me a slight tip of the chin before she turned back to steaming the quahogs. I took it for a yes please in her taciturn way.
All was quiet for a few minutes as she worked on the chowder and gave the potatoes another stir.
I waited—Sienna was, by nature, quiet and I knew she’d run out of steam with her words for the time being.
She’d come back around and trying to push her would just end up in getting kicked out of the kitchen.
Or worse, like de-bearding the quahogs. “The fight,” she began again.
“Ms. Terhune was trying to hush them both up, said they were making too much of a scene. That Blue girl showed up in a tizzy, just came right in like she belonged here, screaming at Tubbs and that Nate fellow, claiming they owed her. What?” She shrugged before I could ask.
“Don’t know, but I could put two and two together and get passably close to four.
Sounded like Tubbs had promised her something, you know what I mean. ”
I nodded, my stomach simmering and sloshing. “I can figure it out.”
Sienna grunted. “Didn’t catch all of it—Carmel did, though, and you know she loves to chat.
What I got though, Anmorata was really angry but I think.
..” Sienna paused, frowning thoughtfully.
She stirred, the shells making gentle thumping sounds before she replaced the lid on the steamer and turned to face me, leaning against the counter.
“She seemed more embarrassed than anything. Maybe I was readin’ too much into it but the way she was carrying on?
The way she kept trying to remind him of some promise?
Sure sounded like she’d been expecting something from him. Not money.”
I winced. “Not exactly an unheard-of story in the industry.” The whole casting couch thing had become a sick meme, so normalized that it even got mentioned in interviews as a sort of ha ha you’re so young how’d you get this part comment.
Max had a great, snappy reply for it but the one time I was asked, I ended up getting in all sorts of trouble for cursing out the interviewer.
“Thankfully it’s pretty reviled now in the industry but it’s still a thing for some people. ”
Sienna grunted, annoyed and angry and a lot of things I couldn’t unravel as she started portioning the potatoes into ramekins with pats of butter and a sprinkle of farmer’s cheese.
“Those women weren’t much help. Gwendolyn—that the tall one?
Yeah. She kept trying to send the girl on, telling her it was no use, Tubbs wasn’t paying her and neither was she.
The other one, Pamela, just fluttered around and cried, a lot of how could you and not again.
” Sliding the tray with the ramekins into the oven, she dusted her hands on her loose apron and turned to face me, leaning back against the counter as her steady, stern gaze pinned me down.
“Gotta be honest, I was waiting my turn to chew on his backside myself. His payment for the room came back. Whatever card he’d used to put a hold on it was bad and he couldn’t come up with another payment so,” she made a throwing gesture and whistled through her teeth.
“The ladies weren’t keen on helping him out, either. ”
Tubbs having money problems wasn’t a shock, but it had an extra layer of ick knowing he’d promised Anmorata Blue something he had no intention of giving, whether it was money or a job. “Wait, what about Nate? The guy with them? Ms. Terhune’s PA?”
“God only knows. He hasn’t stayed in his room one single night since they checked in.
Said it was too twee and small.” She shut off the fire under the quahogs and turned to face me, leaning against the counter.
“That argument I did hear. That Terhune woman was really snotty about things but Nate was worse. Made Carmel cry, talking trash about the inn—our home!—and complainin’ about the food at the cocktail party.
Said it was middle class garbage.” She sniffed, folding her arms tight against her middle as she glared at the memory.
“That Nate told Ms. Terhune he was gonna go stay with Beth, whoever that is. Good riddance. I hope she enjoys his attitude more than we did.”
“With Beth,” I repeated. “Not... at Beth or on Beth?”
Sienna straightened, wrinkling her brow in annoyance. “Damien, are you high? Is this some California thing? Oh god, you better not be making a sex joke! On Beth? What kind of—”
“The Beth is the name of Tubbs’ yacht,” I said before she could wind up any tighter.
“It’s... that’s where they found him.” After the tiniest hesitation, I filled her in on what I’d been thinking.
“Heath is sure it was an accident but I’m kind of thinking maybe.
.. Maybe he had help? Or if not help,” I hastened to add over her scoff, “someone was there and just didn’t help.
Which is kind of like helping him die but not. .. actively?”
Sienna stared at me for a long few seconds before turning back to her quahogs.
“Well. That’s all I know. I should kick those women out too but they’re only here till Saturday.
” The unspoken we need the money was loud.
Lester Cove wasn’t exactly a tourist hot spot so the inn did a steady but low volume business, from what I could see.
Tubbs trashing one of the rooms would be a huge expense that, if they’d been a large hotel or part of a chain, maybe wouldn’t have pinched so hard but the Moon sisters owned the old home—their family home—independently and would have to dig into savings, I was sure, to recoup what Tubbs had done.
“Why would he trash the room?” I mused. “What the hell was he thinking?”
“That he was an asshole and that’s what assholes do?”
“Sienna,” I laughed, startled by her cursing. “I mean, you’re not wrong...”
She smirked over her shoulder. “Get out of here. You know I don’t like gossip, Damien.”
I shuffled back into my shoes on the back steps, door open behind me as Sienna fussed over making a baggie of rolls and some of Carmel’s petit fours left over from the cocktail party. “You better take these,” she sniffed, rattling the bag at me. “I’ve got no room for them in the kitchen.”
“You’re not nearly as scowly as you like people to think, are you?” I teased, accepting the bag with a happy little dance. “All that snapping and barking at people...”
“Oh, I’m awful,” she corrected. “I just dole it out accordingly. Now get off my back steps or I’ll smack you with my broom.”
***
I GOT BACK TO WITTE House to let the dogs out for their afternoon constitutionals, I made sure Charlemagne hadn’t destroyed anything since Ben declared it was ‘fine’ to let him out and about in the house.
Ate too many of the rolls Sienna sent with me. Made a half-assed attempt at a workout that ended in me lying on the floor and googling my name. Again.
Which led to abusing printer ink cartridges and printing out copies of the pap photos from the past several days, labeling them with the dates and times they were taken and putting them on my.
.. okay, it wasn’t a murder board per se, no matter what Max called it during the whole Renee Rhoades fiasco.
It was my thinking board. Like having a Pinterest board but instead of cute lamps and throw pillows or really kick ass shoes and fits, it was evidence.
And I knew Heath would flip a hissy if I called this evidence in front of him but that’s what it was.
Someone was stalking me and taking sneaky pics, this was evidence.
And... if my thinking board also included some sticky notes about Tubbs’ death and Anmorata Blue, that was just me being thorough since at least one of the pictures had involved Tubbs and I was pretty sure that was Anmorata Blue in the corner of that pic from the cocktail party, lurking with her tray of drinks.