“He was offering me a role in a movie,” I admitted quietly.“And I think I might’ve said yes.”
Max was very quiet for a long time.It was probably just a handful of seconds but itfelteternal.Finally, he blew out a harsh breath and shook his head.“Damien, that wouldnothave been a good idea.”
I didn’t get a chance to dissect that further.Someone knocked on Max’s door, shouting his scene was next and to get a move on.“Shit.Okay, we’ll talk later.Oh!Hey—maybe call Paul again?He knows a ton of those pap types and he might be able to help get a bead on whoever’s selling pics of you.”
Promises to talk later we flung wildly between us and Max disconnected.Refusing to give myself time to put it off, I pulled up Paul’s number and, going against my natural instincts, called rather than texted.I was almost relieved when he didn’t answer and it went to voicemail.I left him an awkward, short message reminding him of who I was and asking him to text me ASAP.I hesitated, adding, “I have a paid job for you.”
Chapter 8
I’d managed to fritteraway the rest of Monday with chores, pet care, and binging episodes ofBump in the Nighton my laptop, scaring myself silly in the dark of my turret bedroom.Sleep was fitful, broken up by dreams of a peacock-haired stalker with camera lenses for eyes and Tubbs’ cold, slack face staring up at me from every surface I glimpsed.
Damn ghost hunting shows.
I was still twitchy when Charlemagne decided to sing me the song of his people at half past five in the morning, summoning me downstairs and demanding food.Which set off the dogs.Which meant I might as well stay up and, two cups of coffee from my secret stash later, I finally mustered the attention span to check my messages.
Nothing from Paul, but there was an alert on my name that took me toTea and Tinsel.A picture of me walking Muffin yesterday next to a picture of the charred remains of the Old Yacht Club and a link to the Lester Cove Sentinel and another to the Boston Glone.Explosion at small town yacht club linked to dead movie producer.
What the hell...
Stomach twisting into balloon animals, I clicked the link to the Globe.
Small Maine Town Faces Another Infamous Death
Lester Cove, Maine is barely a spot on the Maine coast—
“Okay, screw you too buddy,” I muttered, skipping down the intro paragraphs.I swear, some of these writers were as bad as recipe bloggers with unnecessary, pedantic, and just plainughparagraphs of useless info before finally getting to the meat of the matter.Why do I need a summary of Lester Cove’s history as a fishing village?I don’t.Just tell me about the dead guy, damn it!
—Tubbs was found on Friday night on his personal yacht.Local authorities deemed the death an accident but a fire at the Meachum Shaw Memorial Yacht Club, locally known as the Old Yacht Club, might turn this into a murder investigation.Items belonging to the deceased Gerald Tubbs were discovered in the debris of the fire by authorities from the state arson investigation unit.Heath Nichols, sheriff in Lester Cove, has not issued a comment at this time but has acknowledged the local law enforcement is working with the state authorities to ensure Gerald Tubbs Junior’s death is treated with dignity and respect.
Gwendolyn Terhune and Pamela Sommers, former stars of the hit long-running seriesLadies Who Lunchare also in Lester Cove for the town’s autumn regatta.Long-time friends of Gerald Tubbs Junior, they issued a statement after the memorial held for him on Monday at the Meachum Shaw Yacht Club of Lester Cove, locally known as the New Yacht Club.“Gerry was a complicated, passionate man who loved his work, loved helping others succeed, and loved all of his friends fiercely.This accident was a shock—as all are—and we thank the people of Lester Cove, particularly the law enforcement officers and emergency medical professionals who responded to the 911 call.We ask for privacy at this time and, if you are so moved, take some time and watch one of his movies this week to remember a man made in the last throes of Hollywood’s Golden Age.”
I sat back, staring at the screen of my phone blankly.“I need my murder board.”
***
TOO MUCH TIME ON MYthinkingboard made me feel stoved up.Desperately needing fresh air, I made sure the animals were fed and grabbed my jacket, heading out on a walk down Bluff Road and into town.Most everyone was at the beach or the marina, watching the regatta’s morning run around some colorful buoys, so the main drag was pretty empty.It gave me time to think.Or dwell, rather.Had Tubbs really been intending to race theBeth?I know people had hidden depths but Tubbs being a proficient yachtsman was bridge too far for me to believe.He’d been comfortable enough on the boat to intend to stay on it, though.And it’d definitely looked lived in...
