Page 43 of Death of a Grill Master

He slumped onto a stool, muttering something about tourists ruining everything, then lapsed into a nap with his forehead on the bar. Chelsea turned to Hayley with a flourish and wiped her hands on a dish towel.

“Now that we’ve handled our most loyal regular,” she said, “what’s the word, Ms. Powell? Solved the case yet?”

Hayley sighed. “Hardly. But I’ve got a list of suspects long enough to fill a cocktail menu.”

“Spill.”

Hayley filled her in on last night’s dinner with Doug Marsh. “He said Hank stole his dry-rub recipe, took credit at a barbecue competition in Florida, and ran off with the trophy. Not to mention all future profits.”

Chelsea raised a brow. “And he just casually told you this? The guy whose gun ended up in the cooler on Hank’s boat?”

“I know. Seems counterintuitive.”

“Or really calculated,” Chelsea said. “Maybe he thinks honesty makes him look innocent. Or maybe he’s trying to throw you off his scent.”

Hayley traced a finger through the condensation on her daiquiri glass. “He didn’t strike me as the killer type, but that’s the problem. I keep saying that about everyone, and someone did kill Hank.”

Chelsea leaned forward. “Look, it sounds like Hank had a gift for making enemies. Wouldn’t surprise me if one of them pushed back—hard.”

Hayley frowned. “Why do you say that?”

“Let’s just say I once went on a date with someone with a similar talent for ticking people off. He’s lucky I only ghosted him.”

Hayley perked up. “Who?”

Chelsea wrinkled her nose. “You’re not gonna like it.”

“Try me.”

“Zane.”

Hayley nearly choked on her drink. “Zane? Dive instructor Zane?”

Chelsea nodded. “He asked me out when I first moved to town. I thought, ‘Okay, local, kinda rugged, not my type, but maybe he’s sweet.’”

“And?”

“He spent the entire dinner ranting about some opportunity with Hank that went belly-up. Apparently, he pitched him a smoked seafood line, and Hank laughed him out of the restaurant.”

“Is there anyone in this town who hasn’t tried to launch their very own barbecue empire? Doug. Hannah. Now Zane.”

“With me, he wouldn’t shut up about it. He never let me get a word in. He was too busy fuming about how he was gonna be stuck giving tours to seasick tourists forever. I finally made an excuse and left halfway through dessert.”

Hayley shook her head. “That’s wild. And that was before you found out about Zane’s thing with Kylie?”

“Oh, yeah. The cherry on top,” Chelsea said. “Zane used to show up here and ‘check up on her’ like she was some kind of pet hamster. He didn’t even drink. He just loitered.”

“What do you mean, ‘loitered’?”

“Stood in the corner sipping Shirley Temples like they were single-malt scotches. Eyes glued to her the whole time.”

Hayley shivered. “That’s more than stalker-adjacent.”

“There was one time—I’ll never forget it—he confronted her outside. Accused her of cheating on Hank, like it was any business of his. No names were said, but Kylie got in his face. She held her own, but he was furious. I told Randy about it, and he said he’d keep an eye out.”

Hayley chewed her lip. “What if Zane was the one who sent those photos of Kylie and Chase to Hank?”

Chelsea’s eyes widened. “I never thought of that. But it makes sense. Who else would’ve known?”