Page 42 of Death of a Grill Master

3 cloves garlic, minced

1 teaspoon paprika

Salt and pepper, to taste

Juice of 1 lemon

2 tablespoons parsley (or cilantro, if you’re feeling fancy)

Skewers as needed

Pat the shrimp dry. Mix together the olive oil, garlic, paprika, salt, pepper, and lemon juice. Toss the shrimp into the marinade and let sit 30 minutes. Thread into skewers. Grill over medium-high heat 2–3 minutes per side until pink with a little char. Sprinkle the parsley or cilantro on top and serve hot.

Best enjoyed with friends, sunshine, and maybe a reminder to always watch where you’re walking—especially if there’s a handsome chief of police in your line of sight.

Chapter 15

Drinks Like A Fish was unusually quiet for a Friday mid-afternoon. A couple of older locals sat nursing Bud Lights in the corner, engaged in a heated but hushed debate over the best clam shack in Hancock County. Hayley slid onto her favorite stool at the far end of the bar, where she could pretend not to eavesdrop while scanning the room for her brother.

Chelsea Mahoney emerged from the back with a clipboard in one hand and a frosty daiquiri in the other. Her ponytail was fraying at the edges, and a pencil was stuck behind one ear.

“I’m testing my daiquiri skills,” she announced. “You’re my guinea pig.”

She slid the glass toward Hayley, who took a sip, nodded with approval, and gave her a thumbs-up. “Perfectly tart. And dangerously drinkable.”

Chelsea grinned. “I’m calling that a win.”

Hayley set the glass down. “Is Randy around?”

“Off today,” she said, slapping the clipboard on the bar. “He’s knee-deep in cardboard boxes and travel-sized toothpaste. Brazil prep.”

Hayley’s throat tightened. “Right,” she said, trying to smile. “Of course.”

Chelsea paused, catching the flicker in Hayley’s expression. “You okay?”

Hayley nodded, but her eyes stung. “I’m just being sentimental. I always thought we’d grow old and cranky together in Bar Harbor. Now he’s flying off to start a new life in São Paulo. It’s just a lot.”

Chelsea softened. “I get it. You two are super close.”

Hayley sniffed and took a sip of her drink. “He’s my older brother, you know.”

Chelsea blinked. “Wait—I thought he was younger. Like, two and a half years?”

Hayley gave a small smile.. “That’s what the birth certificate says, but I’ve always insisted I’m the younger one for vanity reasons. Randy doesn’t mind.”

Chelsea laughed. “You’re my new hero. I want to be your best friend.”

“I have a long waiting list,” Hayley deadpanned. “But I’ll pencil you in.”

Just then, a wiry man with a sunburned nose and a lobster trap tattoo staggered up to the bar, waving a ten-dollar bill like it was on fire.

“Raspberry schnapps!” he declared.

Chelsea didn’t blink. “We’re out.”

“You were out yesterday.”

“And somehow, we’re still out.”