Page 80 of Death of a Grill Master

Salt and pepper

BBQ SAUCE

1 cup ketchup

⅔ cup brown sugar, packed

3 tablespoons Worcestershire sauce

3 tablespoons apple cider vinegar

2 tablespoons Dijon mustard

1 teaspoon garlic powder

Salt and pepper to taste

In a saucepan over medium heat, combine the BBQ sauce ingredients. Bring to a boil, then reduce to low and simmer 5–6 minutes, stirring constantly. Remove from the heat and set aside.

Preheat the grill to medium heat and oil the grates. Season the pork chops on both sides with salt and pepper. Place on the grill and cook 3 minutes. Flip, brush generously with sauce, and cook another 5–7 minutes. Flip again, brush with more sauce, and cook an additional 5–7 minutes, or until the internal temperature reaches 140°F.

Remove the chops from the grill and let rest, covered, for 5 minutes before serving.

Add your favorite sides, a chilled Spritz, and maybe a reminder to ask about food allergies before planning the menu.

Chapter 27

Hayley parked in front of a small, weathered clapboard house tucked on a quiet side street just beyond downtown Bar Harbor. Tina Whitmore’s house—modest, gray-shingled, with a rickety porch swing and a flower bed overtaken by early autumn weeds—looked like the kind of place meant for privacy.

Or invisibility.

A FOR RENT SOON! sign leaned against the mailbox, the hand-scrawled lettering as subtle as a sledgehammer.

The front door was propped open, and cardboard boxes lined the steps. Hayley knocked on the door frame and called inside. “Lacy?”

From within came a rustle and then a voice: “Back here!”

Hayley stepped into the narrow front room. The interior was sparse—no photos on the walls, no knickknacks or clutter, just plain furniture, functional shelves, and the ghost of someone who never meant to stay long.

Lacy Whitmore emerged from the hallway, a roll of packing tape in one hand and a tired smile on her face. She was in her late thirties, with chestnut hair pulled into a ponytail, wearing jeans and a windbreaker with an L.L. Bean logo on the sleeve.

“You must be Hayley,” she said. “Thanks for coming.”

“I wish it were under better circumstances,” Hayley said. “How are you holding up?”

Lacy gave a small shrug. “It’s weird. We weren’t that close. Tina was … private. Didn’t share much. Even when we were kids.” She gestured around. “She never decorated. Never put down roots. She didn’t even have a will, so I’m stuck trying to sort this all out while some cranky landlord breathes down my neck.”

Hayley looked around at the nearly bare room. A bookshelf with marine biology textbooks. A small desk with nothing but a lamp and a box of paper clips. The television was old, the armchair mismatched. It was less a home than a hideout.

“Can I look around?” Hayley asked.

Lacy nodded. “Knock yourself out. Maybe you’ll find something I missed.”

Hayley moved quietly through the house. The bedroom was just as sparse—neatly made bed, dresser with two framed pictures on top: one of Tina and Lacy as kids, and one of a beach at sunset. The bathroom had nothing but drugstore shampoo and a nearly empty tube of toothpaste. No journals, no notes. Nothing personal. It appeared her real home was her office at COA.

“She didn’t talk about anyone from the college?” Hayley asked when she returned.

“Never,” Lacy said. “Whenever I asked about her job or if she was seeing someone, she just said she was too busy with research or students. I think she liked keeping us at arm’s length.”