Page 31 of Death of a Grill Master

He crossed his arms. “Look, I know people think I had some beef with Hank because of Kylie, but let me set the record straight—I was the one who broke it off with her. She was drama from day one. Hank could have her as far as I was concerned.”

“Interesting,” Hayley said. “Because she told me you got obsessive. Showed up at her job. Followed her around.”

“She threw a rock through my shop window,” Zane countered. “Cost me a fortune to replace. She’s been playing the victim since the minute she moved here.”

“Do you have proof?”

“No. Just instinct. And maybe the security camera was broken that week,” he added, with an unconvincing shrug. “But trust me—I know it was her.”

He studied Hayley’s suspicious expression.

“Come on, Hayley, how long have you known me? I had nothing to do with that nasty business. I’m a pretty chill guy. Besides, everybody in town already knows it was probably Chase Wingate who plugged ol’ Hank.”

Hayley nodded. She wasn’t buying it wholesale, but Zane didn’t seem like someone capable of subtlety or stealth. Blunt force, maybe. But not subterfuge.

“If you’re looking for more suspects,” Zane added, leaning in, “you should talk to Roger and Nancy Larkin.”

Hayley tilted her head. “Why them?”

“Because I saw them at the town office last week. I was paying off some parking tickets—my little protest against the greedy meter system. Anyway, they were fighting with a town council member. Real heated. Something about Hank trying to open a second Slaughterhouse next to their diner. They were pissed. Council guy said it was approved. Nothing he could do. Roger looked like he was about to blow a gasket. Said something about ‘more direct methods’ to stop Hank from taking over the town.”

Hayley frowned. “That’s awfully specific.”

“I’ve got good ears.”

“Zane, are you sure you didn’t just overhear something and spin it into a grudge?”

“You can think what you want,” he said, pulling out a laminated form. “But if you and Bruce want that scuba package, I can give you twenty percent off if you book today. Deposit’s just fifty bucks.”

“Tempting,” Hayley said, turning for the door. “But I’ll pass for now. I’ve got other fish to fry.”

Zane groaned. “Leave the seafood puns to the pros.”

Bruce was already seated at a corner booth in Fryer Side Chat when Hayley walked in, a steaming mug of coffee in front of him and his laptop bag perched like a silent third guest.

“Been here ten minutes and already insulted by a server,” he said as she slid into the booth. “Apparently I look like the kind of guy who puts ketchup on eggs.”

“You are.”

“Not the point,” he muttered.

Hayley noted he had already ordered. “Tight deadline?”

“Yeah. Column’s due tonight. Writing about the new police chief and his very warm Bar Harbor welcome.”

“Well, I’m glad you made time for lunch.”

Bruce gave her a sideways glance. “I know you, babe. This isn’t lunch. This is an ambush.”

Hayley didn’t bother denying it.

At that moment, Roger Larkin appeared with a plastic pitcher of water.

“Hayley! Bruce! What a nice surprise. Welcome!”

“We wanted to check out the new local gem,” Hayley said smoothly. “You’re getting rave reviews.”

Roger beamed. “Wait till you try the bacon biscuit. Nancy’s personal masterpiece.”