Page 37 of Death of a Grill Master

Hayley nudged Mona playfully in the ribs. “So, did you drop by just to make fun of me or what?”

“Is it too early for a beer?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, then.” Mona sighed, opening the folder and sliding a few pages across the table. “I stopped in at the town office today and bribed Clara Rogers with fresh lobsters.”

Hayley raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t get all high and mighty. I didn’t need to. Turns out the complaint was public record. Clara printed it out for me with a smile and a quote about transparency in local government.”

Hayley picked up the report. The pages were thick with underlines and handwritten notes in aggressive block letters.

“Uncovered meat stored improperly.” “No certified temperature monitor visible.” “Improvised canopy potentially a fire hazard.” “Unlabeled condiments.”

“This is vicious,” Hayley said.

“Legal overkill,” Mona agreed. “Hank got his lawyer to help draft it. Look at the wording: ‘flagrant disregard for municipal code.’ No one talks like that except lawyers and town managers with superiority complexes.”

Hayley scanned the list again. “She never stood a chance.”

“Nope.”

Hayley looked up. “She told me he got her shut down with a single complaint. I figured it was just a meat thermometer thing.”

Mona shook her head. “Nope. He turned on a fire hose.”

Hayley sighed, flopping back into her chair. “I don’t know. Maybe she did it. Maybe she just snapped.”

“What about Doug’s gun? How does that fit?”

“It doesn’t. That’s the problem. Nothing fits. There’s Chase, passed out drunk below deck. Doug, who supposedly had his gun stolen. Zane, with his own vendetta. Kylie with the dinghy. Hannah with a motive and the physical ability to paddle in and out. Not to mention the Larkins. And this whole thing is still a tangled mess.”

Mona gently sat down across from her. “You’re chasing ghosts. Maybe it’s time to let the new chief handle it.”

Hayley didn’t even respond. She just stared at her friend.

Mona threw her hands up. “Okay, okay. Stupid idea. What was I thinking?”

Hayley grinned grimly. “You’ve known me how long?”

“Too long.”

They both laughed.

Mona stood and stretched. “I’ve got deliveries to make. Think you’ll leave the house today?”

“Eventually. When Bruce gets home, I might put on pants.”

“Progress.” Mona chuckled. “I’m outta here. I’m gonna steal a beer from your fridge as payment for all my hard work.” She ambled into the kitchen as Hayley shot her a look.

“I can see the face you’re making behind my back! It’s for later!”

She could hear the refrigerator door open and shut before Mona hustled out the back to her truck in the driveway, just as Hayley circled another area on her chart.

It was almost noon when Bruce finally came in, carrying a bag of groceries and looking slightly windblown.

“Hey, babe, what—” He stopped in his tracks, taking in the war zone that used to be their dining room. “Sweetheart, are we plotting a murder or the next season of Survivor?”