Page 5 of Death of a Grill Master

Chelsea snorted. “Good luck finding one in this town. It’s fleece vests and fishing boots from where I’m standing.”

Hayley joined them, nodding toward the bar. “Doug’s got nice taste. Just be careful. He looks like the kind of man who’ll talk you into trouble and make it sound like fun.”

“I’ll gladly let him,” Liddy said, dreamily.

Before Hayley could ask if Liddy knew anything about Doug beyond his cocktail preferences, Mona appeared, dragging poor Earl behind her like a kid about to confess to shoplifting.

“Tell her,” Mona demanded, gesturing wildly. “Tell Hayley what you told me.”

Earl looked like a man on his way to a firing squad. “I really don’t like to gossip.”

“Oh, give me a break,” Mona said. “You already did gossip. Now, be a man and finish the job.”

Earl sighed and turned to Hayley. “I overheard something. Sergio. Down at the station. On the phone.”

Hayley’s stomach did a little flip. “Okay …”

“He said something about resigning. From the police department. After almost twenty years. Said he was tired. That maybe it was time.”

Hayley’s mouth fell open. “What?”

“I don’t know who he was talking to. Maybe someone at the town office. But he sounded serious.”

Hayley’s heart was thudding now. Randy hadn’t said a word. And she talked to him every day. The idea of Sergio leaving—of both of them maybe leaving—sent a ripple of something cold and sharp through her.

“Are you sure?” she asked.

Earl nodded solemnly. “I wouldn’t have said anything if I wasn’t.”

Hayley looked across the yard to where Randy was refilling someone’s prosecco. He smiled, easy and relaxed.

Why hadn’t he told her?

The sun was gone now, and the first stars were flickering into view. The air had taken on that post-sunset chill, the kind that slipped under your skin and reminded you summer didn’t last forever, not in Maine.

Hayley stepped behind the bar to grab a blanket from under the table and stopped short.

Kylie was there. Alone. One hand braced against the counter, the other dabbing at her eyes with a cocktail napkin.

“Kylie?” Hayley said gently.

Kylie startled, turning fast and blinking like she’d just been caught stealing.

“Oh—hi. Sorry. Allergies. Ragweed’s a killer.”

Hayley didn’t push. Not yet. “Need a minute?”

“No, I’m fine.” Kylie’s voice was tight, her smile even tighter. “I just needed some space. Half the town is jammed into your backyard.”

She slipped past Hayley and disappeared into the crowd.

Chelsea approached moments later, still drying her hands on a bar rag. “That woman’s crying behind the bar and then pretending she’s not? Please. I may be new in town, but I’ve bartended my way through enough Philly weddings to spot a ticking marriage time bomb.”

Hayley watched Kylie rejoin Hank, who was now holding court with Chase and a few others, still brandishing that bottle of Devil Fire like it was holy water.

“Yeah,” Hayley murmured. “Something’s definitely off.”

As the crowd thinned and the music faded into softer ballads, Hayley found her way back to Bruce, who was sitting beside the smoldering grill, sipping a beer, his mind elsewhere.