Damian and I left the coffee shop together a few minutes later, but I barely noticed him walking next to me until he repeated my name.
“Are you okay?” he asked, when I finally registered that he was speaking to me.
“I’m fine. Sorry. I was just thinking about what Hattie said.”
“About the writer? And Scandal?”
“Yes. Well, no,” I said, a little more sharply than I’d intended. “This isn’t a TV show. And if people like the ones on that show are on our island, we’re all in big trouble.”
“True story,” Damian said. “I wonder if she actually watched it?”
I sighed. “I have no idea. But I’ve been thinking. About secrets. Jason Holt came here to write. He’s been here a few times, I’ve heard. But usually over the summer. So why was he sticking around for the winter? I keep asking myself that question, but I can’t figure out the answer. I mean, I assumed he was here to work, but why did he have to work here? Did he really like it here that much?”
“Maybe he was thinking of moving here and wanted to try out a different season,” Damian said.
“Maybe.” I wasn’t convinced. “And don’t say for peace and quiet,” I said when he opened his mouth again.
He closed it, then said, “Okay, but why not?”
“He’s from the West Coast. There are plenty of places for peace and quiet out there that aren’t this cold.”
“Maybe he likes the cold,” Damian pointed out.
I gave him a death glare.
Damian chuckled. “Fine, no one’s allowed to like the cold. What are you thinking, then?”
“I’m not sure,” I said. “But I definitely feel like he was here for a reason.”
“And you think that reason got him killed.”
I paused at my car, pulling my hoodie tighter. The rain had let up some, but the winds were gusting around us like they were trying to send us to Oz. “I guess it depends on the reason.”
“And you want to find out that reason,” Damian said.
I kept my gaze level with his but didn’t say anything.
Damian smiled. “You are certainly your grandpa’s granddaughter,” he said. “Aren’t the police doing that? Or your grandfather?”
“Whatever my grandfather’s doing, he’s not including me,” I said, hoping the hurt didn’t come through in my voice.
“You think he’s investigating? I knew it. He’s such a cool guy,” Damian said.
I grunted.
“Why don’t you ask him if you can investigate with him?” Damian suggested. “He likes when you help.”
“Not this time. Look, forget I said anything. I have to go.”
“Maddie.” Damian put out a hand to stop me. “Why do you care so much?”
“Why?” It seemed obvious to me why everyone should care, but maybe I was the crazy one. “Because it’s our island, and because we aren’t some big city with a high murder rate. People don’t usually get murdered here. It’s giving us all a bad name.” He was kind of right, though, about me being Grandpa’s granddaughter. We both liked to tie things up in neat bows and solve problems. It was what made him a good cop and me a good entrepreneur. It wasn’t my fault that sometimes the two merged together.
Damian looked thoughtful. “I guess you’re right,” he said. “If it matters, my lobster bisque is made for tonight. And I have absolutely nothing good to do today. So if you want some company or someone to bounce ideas off of, I can help.”
He looked hopeful. I liked Damian. He was a good guy, genuine, honest, and loved the island. He was also a transplant with no family here, and I knew how lonely things could get out here during the off-season. He wanted people to belong to. I got it. But he clearly had some allegiance to Grandpa Leo, too. And I didn’t necessarily want Grandpa to know that I was sticking my nose into this, especially since I didn’t even understand how he was involved. And I wasn’t sure if I could trust Damian enough to tell him about the mysterious trailer and what I’d seen there.
But since two heads were definitely better than one, I knew I should probably take advantage of the second-head offer. Lucas, my preferred other head, wasn’t available, and my own head was kind of biased at this point. And if Damian could find out something, anything, about Thea Coleman, that would free me up to track down Leopard Man. Also, it would be less suspect if Damian was asking about her than if I was, since by now most of the island knew that she and I were kind of at war. Plus, the Leopard Man angle was something I definitely wanted to do alone, out of respect for a man I’d always liked. And for his friendship with Grandpa.
“I was going to do a little research,” I said slowly. “If you’re interested. But you have to be discreet.”
He looked surprised, then pleased. “I am. For sure. You’ve never met anyone more discreet.” He puffed out his chest.
I bit back a smile. He was eager to please, which meant he would be mindful of my asks. “Okay. There’s a woman who came to the island recently. She came to my cafe and latched on to this crazy idea that JJ belongs to her.”
“What? I’ll run her over myself,” Damian said, outraged. He loved JJ. He fed him fish every time he saw him. Which meant JJ also loved him. Damian reached down to pet JJ, as if to reassure himself he was still there.
I filled him in on the Thea Coleman saga and how she might be the person of interest the police were referring to. “I saw her out on the street near the ferry the night Holt was killed.”
“And you think she had something to do with it?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “But I’m interested in knowing why she’s really here. And her ties to the island.”
Damian nodded excitedly. “For sure. She could be the culprit, right?”
“It’s possible,” I said. “And Holt got run over with his own car. Which means someone had to have access to his keys or he was really careless and he left the keys in the car. I think she knew Holt, so maybe she had access.”
He whistled. “The plot thickens. Why do you think she knew him?”
“They … bumped into each other at the cafe. They kind of acted like they knew each other.”
“Hmmm. Did they get fingerprints off the steering wheel or anything?”
I thought about that. Of course the police wouldn’t reveal anything like that, but it was a good question. If there were fingerprints and the person had a record, obviously they’d have a good idea of who they were looking for. If there were fingerprints, but the person didn’t have a record, it meant nothing. And if there weren’t fingerprints, then someone had come prepared with gloves. Or they were just cold. Which was entirely possible right now. I wasn’t leaving the house without gloves, for sure.
“I don’t know,” I said. “But it’s an interesting question. I mean, someone could’ve seen an opportunity to steal his car and it could’ve been totally random, right? Someone needing money or something, and they saw him coming back and panicked? Ran him over, then tried to hide the body? If that’s the case maybe they would have left prints. Desperate criminals are dumb, right? There are a million ways this could’ve gone.”
“But would they have bothered trying to hide the body if they just stole the car?” Damian asked. “I mean, if they were that dumb and inexperienced, wouldn’t they have just ditched the car and run?”
He had a point. “So you think it was on purpose,” I said.
He shrugged. “Just following the thought. Hey, this is kind of fun. Well, if someone wasn’t dead it would be more fun,” he amended. “Sure, I can do some digging on this chick. Thea Coleman, you say?”
I nodded. “But it might not be her real name. I can’t find anything about her online. And Holt’s almost ex-wife is here on the island, too. Lexie.”
“Ooh. Why is she here?”
“Apparently to ID the body,” I said.
He frowned. “She the only one who could do that? That stinks.”
The way he said it made me wonder if he had an ex-wife somewhere who he’d be less than pleased to have identify his dead body. I refrained from asking. “I agree,” I said. “Although I met her and she seems genuinely sad he’s dead. But it’s curious, right? For a famous guy, why didn’t he have more friends? Or a new girlfriend?” A new thought struck me. “What if she and Thea Coleman were friends? Or the wife hired Thea as a PI?”
Damian stared at me. “Wow. You really do have a knack for this. You’d make a great conspiracy theorist.”
I swatted his arm. “There’s more. Holt’s co-writer is also on the island.”
“Jeez,” Damian said. “This guy travels in a pack, huh?”
“He came to my cafe looking for some of Holt’s work. Said he didn’t want the wife to get it, basically.”
Damian whistled. “This dude had some stuff going on. Okay. I’ll check around and let you know what I find out. Where are you going now?”
“I have a quick errand to run,” I said. “I’ll circle back with you later.”
“Do we have a command center or anything?” he asked.
I watched him for a clue that he was being funny, but he seemed dead serious. “I hadn’t thought about that, but I guess we could,” I said, trying hard not to smile. It wasn’t a crazy idea. But it seemed so official. I was starting to feel like I was on a TV show or something.
“The Shack,” he said immediately. “I’ll put some chowder—I mean chowdah—on while we’re there. Since you don’t want your grandpa to hear all this, right?”
Good point. “I’ll see you there later on,” I said. “Should I call first?”
He shook his head. “It’s just me and the lobsters. I really need to get a pet or something.”
“Well,” I said. “You can come pick out a cat anytime at the cafe. We have a few.”