Page 39 of Death of a Grill Master

Doug looked mildly uncomfortable, the type of discomfort that made Hayley’s curiosity spike. She slid into the open seat.

“We’ve got a great waiter for you tonight,” Betty chimed in. “Brand new. He’s nervous but sweet. He’s been practicing his specials in the kitchen mirror for half an hour.”

Doug smiled tightly. “Great.”

Hayley waited for Betty to leave, smiled at Liddy, then turned to Doug. “All right. Let’s hear it.”

Doug glanced around, clearly waiting for the right moment. He leaned forward.

But before he could speak, a tall, wiry young man with an earnest expression and a black apron knotted unevenly around his waist appeared at the table with a notebook.

“Good evening, I’m Evan, I’ll be your server. Tonight’s specials include a lobster risotto with tarragon cream and grilled swordfish with a pineapple chutney—”

Doug blinked. “Actually, we were just—”

“And for cocktails,” Evan continued, voice trembling, “we have a blueberry basil mojito that’s been really popular, and a house-made peach bellini.”

Liddy raised an eyebrow. “That sounds lovely. I’ll take the bellini.”

Doug sighed. ”Martini. Gin. Dry.”

Evan scribbled furiously. “And for you …?”

Hayley smiled kindly. “Nothing for me, thanks.”

Evan’s eyes widened. “You’re Ms. Powell … I mean—Mrs. Linney, or, I mean—uh—should I call you Ms. Powell?”

She chuckled. “Powell was my ex-husband’s name. I kept it after the divorce so I’d have the same surname as my kids. Made everything a little easier.”

Evan nodded quickly. “Right. Got it. Sorry, Ms. Powell.”

“Just call me Hayley.”

“Right, Ms. Powell.”

Hayley suppressed another laugh as Evan cleared his throat and launched again into the specials.

But she held up a hand. “Evan. Breathe.”

He froze.

“You forgot to write down our drink orders.”

His face went pale. “Oh my God, you’re right. I—uh—peach bellini and …”

“Martini. Gin. Dry,” Hayley said, with a kind smile.

“Right! Okay. I’ll go put those in. And … come back in a few minutes for your food order?”

“Exactly. Take your time.”

Evan nodded, relieved, and disappeared so fast he nearly tripped on his own shoes.

“Poor kid,” Hayley murmured.

“He’s adorable,” Liddy said.

Doug took a breath. “Okay. So. What I told the police is this: Years ago, at a barbecue expo in Florida, I was working as a sous chef. I created a dry rub—perfect balance of smoke and heat. It got a lot of attention. Hank was there, too, working a different tent.”