Page 117

Tuesday

“I wonder what all that’s about,” I whisper to Sienna as we descend the stairs and find the lobby bustling with guests and trolley bags.

“My guess? Everyone’s cutting their vacation short. Nobody wants to be the next person rolled out in a body bag. Three deaths at the same B&B tends to put a damper on the place.”

“That’s a bit dramatic. They were accidents.”

Sienna shoots me a look, reminding me that she has a very different opinion on the matter.

I hold up a hand before she can start listing her theories one by one.

“I know what you’re thinking. That someone took the saying high school reunions are murder a little too literally. But I stayed up all night trying to make sense of it, and I don’t know… A serial killer in Fairhope? It feels a little far-fetched.”

“Believe what you want, but after breakfast, I’m going to the police station to give Chief Neptune a piece of my mind. He’s totally botched every crime scene. Any evidence worth a damn has probably already been contaminated by his careless forensic team. I’ve never met a more incompetent police department in my life.”

I frown.

She’s not wrong. Chief Neptune has never exactly been known for going above and beyond. If anything, getting closer to retirement age seems to have made him even lazier. But accusing his entire department of incompetence feels like a stretch.

Still, none of that changes the mess this has made of Mrs. Trott’s business.

“Poor Mrs. Trott, though. I can’t help but feel for her,” I say when we spot the flustered woman trying to persuade her guests to stay.

“Nothing we can do about it.” Sienna shrugs.

We step into the lobby and begin weaving our way through the crowd toward the dining area, sidestepping guests and the luggage cluttering nearly every available inch of floor. We’re barely halfway across when a hand lands on my shoulder, stopping me in my tracks.

“Excuse you!” Sienna snaps, already pulling the woman’s hand off me.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” the woman says, looking embarrassed. “It’s just… you’re Max Usher, aren’t you? The famous horror novelist?”

When I see her words stir the crowd, I glance over at a hopeful Mrs. Trott, as if I somehow had the power to control what’s happening to her.

“Yes. Yes, I am.”

“Oh, I love your books!” she says, quickly opening her purse and pulling out a copy of Crashing Echoes and a pen. “Do you mind if I get an autograph?”

“You’re kidding, right?” Sienna snorts, looking at the woman like she’s got some nerve ambushing me for an autograph before I’ve even had my first cup of coffee.

“It’s fine, Sienna. I’d love to sign your book,” I say with a friendly smile, grabbing her pen, only for a few more guests to hover around me with different copies of their own books.

“Can I get an autograph?”

“I love your work. Mind if I take a selfie with you?”

“Can you make mine out to Shelly?”

I smile through the bombardment of requests, while Sienna tries her best to do crowd control.

However, as I glance over at Mrs. Trott again and catch the crestfallen look on her face, an idea begins to form.

“It really is a shame that you’re checking out so soon,” I say with a shake of the head, while signing another hardback. “Especially since Mrs. Trott went to so much trouble in convincing me to do a reading tomorrow night.”

“You’re doing a reading? Here?!” one of them asks, excited whispers immediately breaking out around me.

“She’s doing a reading.”

“She never does public appearances.”