Page 19 of Death of a Grill Master

Chelsea stood off to the side, frozen in place, as if even she hadn’t expected to be named aloud.

Hayley caught her eye.

Chelsea quickly looked away.

Hayley waited until the crowd had started to disperse toward the buffet before cornering her brother near the grill.

“You were going to let me find out like that?”

Randy turned, already looking guilty. “Hayley …”

“I’m your sister. And your best friend. And your unpaid therapist, bar back, and occasional designated driver.”

“I know. I wanted to tell you,” he said, voice cracking slightly. “But I also knew if I did … I might change my mind.”

Hayley stared at him.

“I’ve never done anything like this without you,” he admitted. “Moving back to Bar Harbor? That was your doing. Buying the bar? You pushed me. Sergio’s always gone along with it—he moved here for me, Hayley. Became police chief when he never even wanted to carry a gun.”

“He’s been great at it,” Hayley said softly.

“He has. But he misses his family. His culture. The food. And I think maybe it’s my turn to make a sacrifice. For him.”

Hayley felt her chest tighten.

“I’m tired, too,” Randy added. “Running a bar takes everything out of you. You know what I mean.”

“I do,” she said. “Running a whole restaurant doesn’t leave you with much, either.”

He looked at her, eyes damp. “I’m going to miss you.”

“I tell most people you’re the older sibling,” she said, blinking fast. “Even though I’ve got you beat by two and a half years.”

Randy smiled, pulling her into a hug. “You always were bossy.”

She clung to him for a long moment.

As the sun finally dipped below the horizon and the moon began to rise in its place, casting silver on the water, Hayley wandered back toward the drinks table, where Mona had materialized.

Mona leaned in. “There’s a rumor going around.”

Hayley raised an eyebrow. “What kind of rumor?”

“The juicy kind. Someone at the station told Earl that the police found some … interesting photos tucked away in a drawer in Hank’s office.”

Hayley’s heart skipped. “What kind of photos?”

“Compromising ones.”

Mona’s expression made it clear she wouldn’t be getting anything more specific from her—not yet.

Hayley scanned the crowd. Sergio stood near the firepit, chatting with a few of the guests, but his eyes looked distant.

Focused elsewhere.

She walked over.

“You’re not really going to leave us, are you?” she asked.