I pulled into the parking lot of Damian’s Lobstah Shack ten minutes later and hurried to the side door. JJ had perked up when we’d pulled into the parking lot, recognizing that he’d get some treats while he was here.
Damian had made the place a little more than a shack since he’d taken over, expanding the kitchen a bit. He had one tiny table and a couple chairs he used as his “break room.” He was sitting there with his computer and a notebook, looking very serious.
“What’s going on?” I asked, sliding into the chair across from him.
“Thea Coleman. I didn’t find anything. But I’m going to keep looking.”
I wasn’t surprised, given the research I’d tried to do.
He slid a plate in front of JJ, who attacked it. “But I did look into the wife and the other writer,” he continued. “Found some interesting things. Turns out our victim was having a rough time in his life.”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Well. His divorce sounds like it got ugly. Rumors of an affair. And like the soon-to-be ex-wife got a big chunk of change up front and rights to his future earnings.”
“Whose affair? His or hers?”
“There were rumors of both, but it sounds like it was on her side. And then she tried to hit back with her own accusations.”
“Okay,” I said slowly. “But wouldn’t that just mean he had a reason to kill her, instead of vice versa?”
“I guess,” Damian said. “Then there were other rumors about her not feeling like the settlement was enough, and he’d been ordered by a judge to take out a huge life insurance policy and list her as the benefactor.”
“Whoa.” I sat back. “Are you sure? Where did you find this out?” He’d been “investigating” for barely more than an hour and he already knew way more than I did.
“A little Google, a little inside scoop.” He shrugged. “I called a friend.”
“Wait a second. What friend?” It had to be more friend than Google, because I did some Googling on the guy, too, and didn’t find any divorce terms. Although my Googling had, admittedly, been cut short and I hadn’t gotten back to it. But Becky hadn’t mentioned anything about that, either.
He nodded. “It’s not public. One of my college roommates is a Hollywood agent. I figured he might’ve heard something, given that Holt’s books were flying onto the big screen. And once you’re in Hollywood, you’re in Hollywood, ya know what I mean? Plus, his wife is an author. I asked him to check with her, too, on anything she might know from those circles.”
I felt a newfound admiration for my neighbor creep over me. “Well, look at you,” I said.
He grinned. “What, you thought I was some boring midwesterner with a lobstah fascination?” He exaggerated his pronunciation of the word lobster, poking fun at me. It was one of the things I’d helped him work on when he first came to town and opened his shop—how to say it like a true New Englander.
“I’m impressed,” I admitted. “What else did he have to say?”
“Not much. He didn’t work directly with him or on his stuff, but word gets around in those circles. Holt sort of fell off the grid since word about the divorce got around. My friend heard they’re moving forward with the next screenplay, but he’s been pretty much uninvolved.”
I thought about this. A life insurance policy was a no-brainer motive. I thought about the former Mrs. Holt, rushing to the island to ID her husband’s body. Was that all for show? Or to drive home the point that she hadn’t been on the island when it happened? Which meant nothing. She could’ve hired anyone to off him.
Like someone who worked under an assumed name. Like Thea Coleman. Maybe there was something to my theory that they were acquainted.
A chill set in and I hugged myself. Maybe that’s why I hadn’t been able to find anything on Thea Coleman. Maybe it really was a fake name. She didn’t look like a hit man, but how would I know what a hit man looked like in real life? They couldn’t all be dark, scary, mysterious men.
“Maddie?” Damian looked quizzically at me.
I snapped back to attention. “Yeah. Just thinking. What about McConnell?”
“Well,” he said. “That’s the other thing. McConnell and Holt had a very public split. They weren’t working together anymore, according to my source.”
“Really,” I said slowly. “Why?”
“He didn’t know for sure, but one of the rumors going around is that Lexie Holt and McConnell were together.”
“What?” I wasn’t expecting that.
“I don’t know if it’s true,” he cautioned. “And if it was, it was definitely on the down-low.”
“Yeah, I’m sure it was on the down-low. How did I not see that?” I shoved my chair back and stood.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“They both came to my cafe! They were totally playing me. She was babbling about how she wanted to get back together with Holt and now she’d never have the chance, and he was giving me some line about how the next book wouldn’t be the same without him. They both probably just wanted to get their hands on whatever he was working on. Probably because it was worth money. God, I’m so stupid. Thank goodness the notebook wasn’t there. I have to go. This is really great information, Damian. Thanks.”
“Wait. What did you find out? Anything?”
I shook my head slowly. “I got nothing. Completely struck out on my end. I guess I need friends in higher places.”