The Malt in Our Stars Read online

As Alex continued to film, Olivia checked her phone.

  “Jules and Evan better get over here pronto,” she muttered. “Like we need any other problems to deal with.”

  Alex lowered his camera. “They’ll be here. Jules is probably just getting himself ready. You know what he’s like.”

  “Every hair has to be in place,” Olivia said with an exasperated sigh. She glanced up the street and her frown eased slightly. “Here they come.”

  Sure enough, the host of Craft Nation was walking down the street toward us, dressed in dark jeans and a turquoise and gray plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The young man I’d seen in the parking lot earlier struggled to keep pace at his side. He was laden down with equipment that Jules made no move to help him with.

  I expected Olivia to grouse at Jules and his companion, but to my surprise her expression changed like a switch had been flicked.

  She smiled at Jules. “Ready?”

  The show’s host rubbed his hands together. “Let’s make some magic!”

  I hung back, wondering if Olivia would introduce me to Jules, but she made no move to do so. It didn’t matter in the end, because Jules stepped forward and offered his hand to me anyway.

  “Jules Beamer,” he said as I shook his hand.

  “Sadie Coleman,” I returned.

  “You own this place?” He nodded at the gristmill.

  “I do.”

  He surveyed the building. “Nice,” he said with appreciation.

  I smiled, ridiculously pleased that he approved. It felt a bit surreal to be meeting him in person after having seen him on TV. He was even better looking in person than on screen, but the friendly smile he gave me didn’t stir up any butterflies in my chest. These days, my butterflies only seemed to flutter for one man, a certain craft brewer with blue eyes and dark hair.

  While Jules chatted with Olivia, Alex and the other man busied themselves with the equipment that they’d carried over from the inn. The young man didn’t introduce himself like Jules had, but I gathered he was the Evan Olivia had mentioned moments ago.

  When Jules had finished talking with Olivia, Evan clipped a microphone to the host’s shirt, making sure it was hidden from view. Then Evan attached a reflector to a stand and adjusted it when Jules took up his position in front of the pub.

  After a few more minutes, Alex readied his camera again and filmed several takes of Jules giving a short spiel about the Inkwell, the town, and Grayson’s beers. Olivia had just declared the most recent take to be the last, when people started arriving for the interior shots. Cordelia walked over from the inn and came over to stand next to me, keeping a wary eye on Olivia. Fortunately, the director was wrapped up in her work now, the slashed tire and broken windshield forgotten, at least for the moment.

  Aunt Gilda and her friend Betty arrived next. They’d both cleared their schedules at the salon so they could help me fill the pub for the show. Mel and Damien showed up a moment later, with Joey arriving on their heels. Then Booker and his girlfriend arrived, followed soon after by Teagan, her twin sister, and a few members of the Inkwell’s book clubs. I barely had a chance to thank everyone for coming when Olivia ushered us inside and directed each person to where she wanted them. I thought she’d want me sitting at a table or on one of the bar stools like everyone else, until she told me otherwise.

  “You go behind the bar, Sadie,” she said.

  It sounded far more like an order than a request, but I didn’t mind. I was willing to accommodate her bossiness to get my pub on her show.

  She turned to Alex. “I want a shot of her pulling a pint.”

  “Of me?” To my embarrassment, the words came out with a squeak.

  “You own the place, right?” Olivia didn’t give me a chance to respond. “Isn’t pulling pints part of what you do?”

  “Of course,” I said.

  She returned her attention to Alex, giving him some more direction.

  I tried to gather my wits about me so I wouldn’t appear flustered. I’d figured I’d be in the background like everyone else, if I showed up at all. I hadn’t expected to be the focus of any of the shots.

  Damien got up from the table where Olivia had told him to sit with Mel. He leaned over the bar and spoke to me quietly. “Just relax, Sadie. You’ll do great.”

  “Relax. Right.”

  He returned to the table and I tried to take his advice. Olivia was right—I poured pints for customers every day. There was no reason to be nervous. Except, I’d never been filmed while doing my job before.

  I told myself to ignore the camera, but that wasn’t so easy. During the first take, my hands shook and I silently berated myself. With each subsequent take, I relaxed more and more, and after half a dozen tries, Olivia was finally satisfied.

  The pints didn’t go to waste. They were passed around so all of the pretend customers would have a drink in front of them. I watched from behind the bar as the crew filmed my friends as they chatted quietly and enjoyed their beers. Within an hour, Olivia declared the job done and she and her crew starting packing up.

  Cordelia hurried over to me. “Isn’t Jules Beamer dreamy?” she whispered. “I had a chance to talk to him last night when he arrived at the inn. He’s so charming.”

  Her cheeks were pink and her eyes bright. I was glad she’d cheered up since earlier in the day. She had to get back to the inn, so she scurried off a moment later and Aunt Gilda pulled me aside.

  “That seemed to go well,” she said.

  “It did,” I agreed as I watched the crew get the last of their gear together. “I hope they’ll use at least some of the footage.”

  “I’m sure they will. This place is so full of character. How could they not feature it?”

  I hoped she was right.

  “Can we meet up for an early lunch tomorrow?” she asked.

  “I’m going dress shopping with Shontelle tomorrow morning.” We’d rescheduled by text message after I found out about the filming plans. “Maybe the next day?”

  Aunt Gilda squeezed my hand. “It’s a date. I’ve got to run, but we’ll have a good chat over lunch.”

  “I’m looking forward to it,” I assured her as she turned to go.

  It was time to open the Inkwell to the public, so I followed the film crew out the door and flipped the CLOSED sign to OPEN. That done, I stood outside for a moment, enjoying the feel of the warm sun on my face. As I turned to go back inside, I noticed someone over on the green. I recognized the woman a second later as the blonde from Shady Creek Manor. She wore the same oversized sunglasses and she quickly strode off toward the eastern end of the green when I spotted her, but I could have sworn she’d been watching me.

  Chapter 10

  The Craft Nation episode currently in production was already proving to be good for Shady Creek. Instead of conversations centering around Marcie’s murder—a topic that might have scared the tourists away—the pub was buzzing with talk about the show. Those who hadn’t been present for the filming at the Inkwell wondered if they’d have a chance to get on camera, and everyone was hopeful that the episode would increase tourism. Even those who were in Shady Creek for a vacation were excited about the production. From what I heard, the tourists were most enthusiastic about the fact that Jules Beamer was in town.

  “Is it true that he’s even better looking in person?” a middle-aged woman asked me as I set Happily Ever After and Yellow Brick Road cocktails in front of her and her three female companions.

  “It’s true,” I confirmed.

  All four women twittered with excitement.

  “We have to meet him,” one of the women declared, and her friends all agreed.

  I left them to their drinks and returned to the bar. Two men seated on stools at the end of the bar ordered nachos and pints of beer. After I’d served them, I noticed Sofie Talbot heading for the Christie room with her friend Gina DiMarco. Sofie and Gina had both joined the Inkwell’s science fiction and fantasy book club.

&n
bsp; I wondered if Joey knew that Sofie was in the club. Maybe if I told him he’d want to join the group too. For a second I considered fishing for information from Sofie, to see if she had any feelings of a romantic nature for Joey, but then I decided I should mind my own business, even if that wasn’t an easy thing for me to do.

  Following Sofie and Gina into the Christie room, I asked if I could get them anything and left my questions at that. Sofie ordered a Huckleberry Gin and Gina requested a glass of white wine. I mixed the cocktail and poured the wine at the bar and then carried the drinks into the other room, setting them on the small table that sat between the armchairs the two women had claimed. So far, they were still the only club members to have arrived.

  “Did you enjoy this month’s book?” I asked them.

  “For sure!” Gina said before taking a sip of her wine.

  Sofie pulled her copy of Darkness Shifting by Sarah L. Blair out of her tote bag. “Have you read it?”

  “No,” I replied, “but maybe I should.”

  “You definitely should,” Gina said. “It’s a really clever, urban fantasy twist on the King Arthur legend.”

  “I’ll check it out.” I made a mental note to add the book to my to-be-read list. “What’s the book for next month?”

  “Empyrean by Nicole L. Bates,” Sofie said. “I’ve already started reading it. The world building is fantastic!”

  At that moment, another member of the club arrived. Matt Yanders was in his late forties and owned the Harvest Grill, one of Shady Creek’s restaurants.

  “Evening, ladies,” he said, shrugging out of his black leather jacket. As he hung the jacket over the back of a chair, he addressed Gina. “Things must be crazy at the manor these days.”

  Gina set down her wineglass. “You’re not kidding.”

  “You work at the manor?” I asked her.

  “Yep.”

  “She’s the pastry chef,” Sofie added.

  “You mean you made that heavenly chocolate mousse cake I ate the other day?” I asked.

  Gina smiled. “That was me. So you liked it?”

  “I loved it,” I said.

  Gina’s smile brightened. “I’m so glad. I love my job.”

  “Even now, when you have to work where there’s been a murder?” Matt asked as he pulled up his chair and sat down.

  Sofie shuddered. “Maybe Gina doesn’t want to talk about that.”

  “I don’t mind,” Gina said. “It’s unsettling, for sure, and all of us who work in the kitchen make sure nobody goes out to their car alone after dark now, but I’m hoping the police will nab the killer soon so we’ll all be safe again.”

  “Have you heard anything about the investigation?” I asked, hoping I’d found a new source of information. “Are the police making any progress?”

  “I have no idea. Nobody really knows what’s going on.”

  “I heard the victim didn’t know anyone in town,” Sofie said. “So why would anyone want to kill her?”

  “I wondered the same thing.” I didn’t mention how much time I’d spent thinking about that and related questions.

  “A murderer doesn’t have to know the victim to kill them,” Matt said. “Maybe it was a spur-of-the-moment thing.”

  “Maybe,” Gina said with a shrug.

  “It’s all odd, though, isn’t it?” I said. “Marcie fell from a vacant guest room. How did she get in there in the first place?”

  “I figure she must have stolen a key card for some reason,” Gina said. “If she did, it was probably a master key or a maid’s key.”

  “It couldn’t have been a guest key?” Matt asked. “Maybe one kept at the front desk?”

  “Unlikely,” Gina said. “I’m no expert, but my understanding is that the keys get recoded each time a new guest checks into a room, so it would be easier to use a staff key.”

  “How many people have master keys?” I asked.

  “I’m not sure,” Gina replied. “Gemma and Brad Honeywell, for starters. And the housekeeping staff has a lot of access. I think the master keys and maid keys have different codes.”

  That caught my attention. “So it would be possible to find out which type of key was used?”

  “If you had access to the hotel computer system, sure.”

  “So the cops probably already know if she used a master key or a maid’s key,” Matt said. “They would have checked the system.”

  “If they even needed to,” I said. “Maybe Marcie had a key on her when she died.”

  “She didn’t,” Gina said. “That’s what I’ve heard, anyway.”

  Matt got more comfortable in his chair. “The cops are probably way ahead of us.”

  “I sure hope so.” Gina frowned. “I don’t like having to look over my shoulder all the time. I’ll feel so much better when the killer’s caught.”

  “Maybe the murderer is one of your coworkers,” Matt suggested.

  Gina paled. “I hope not. It definitely wasn’t anyone who was working in the kitchen that day. We were all together when the woman fell.”

  So I could cross the kitchen staff off my suspect list. Not that I’d added them to my list. Heck, my list didn’t even exist yet, except in my head.

  “Plus, Mrs. Honeywell and one of the housekeepers were together at the time,” Gina continued, and I knew she meant Connie. “I overheard someone saying that. Rosalie—she’s another housekeeper—was also working that day, but she’s no killer. She’s a five-foot-nothing grandmother and just about the sweetest lady you’ll ever meet.”

  Three more members of the book club bustled into the room and I knew I couldn’t grill Gina for information any longer. I took some drink orders and then left the club to their discussion of Darkness Shifting, still as puzzled as ever by Marcie’s death.

  * * *

  The next morning I allowed Wimsey to roust me out of bed fairly early so I could get to the grocery store as soon as it opened. My fridge and cupboards were woefully empty and, if I didn’t stock up on supplies before going dress shopping with Shontelle, I wouldn’t have anything to eat for breakfast tomorrow.

  I considered the trip to the store a bit of a chore, but my mood improved as I entered the produce section with a grocery basket in hand. Grayson was in the midst of selecting an avocado.

  “Morning,” I greeted cheerily.

  “Morning, Sadie.” The way he smiled at me made my heart speed up. “How did the filming go yesterday?”

  “Really well, I think.” I put a bunch of bananas in my basket before moving toward the bin of limes. “Hopefully the Inkwell won’t end up on the cutting room floor.”

  “I don’t think that will happen. I know Olivia loves the character of the place.”

  That was good to know. “Have you seen her since the filming at the pub?”

  “I saw her yesterday afternoon. She and the guys were getting some shots of the brewing process.”

  “Was she in a good mood?” I was hoping she was pleased with how things had gone at the Inkwell.

  Grayson hesitated a second. “Not exactly. But,” he added quickly, “I don’t think that had anything to do with filming at the pub. I’ve never seen her particularly happy. Right from the start she seemed stressed. The stolen phone and vandalism haven’t helped matters. I think she’s under a lot of pressure.”

  “I’m glad I don’t have her job.” Keeping the pub running was enough pressure for me. I didn’t think I was cut out for directing a television show. “And I guess I can’t blame her for getting upset about the vandalism. Did you hear that the crew’s windshield got smashed again?”

  Grayson added some oranges to a reusable produce bag. “I did. And a slashed tire this time.”

  “Someone seems to have it in for the production crew.” I followed Grayson over to the bell peppers, my own shopping list now forgotten. “Any idea why anyone would want to mess with them?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Then I guess we’ve got another mystery on our hands,” I said
.

  He raised an eyebrow. “We?”

  “I bet if we put our heads together, we could figure out who’s responsible.”

  “You might be right about that. How about I stop by the pub later so we can talk it over?”

  I was pleased by how readily he’d agreed to work together. “It’s a date.” I realized what I’d said. “I mean, not a date date. Just . . .” Heat rushed to my cheeks. They were probably bright enough to be seen from the space station.

  Grayson laughed and then stepped closer as an elderly man navigated his cart past us. When my arm brushed against Grayson’s, my heart decided it was a good time to dance the jitterbug.

  “I’ll see you later,” he said with a grin, his blue eyes looking right into mine for a long moment before he left.

  With my cheeks still hot and my heart cavorting about in my chest, I stood there by the bell peppers and watched as Grayson headed for the checkout counter.

  * * *

  I was able to get the rest of my groceries and pay for them without embarrassing myself any further. That wasn’t particularly surprising, though. I really only had a habit of making things awkward for myself when Grayson was around.

  “I can’t believe I said it was a date,” I muttered to myself as I left the store.

  He probably thought I was a dork. Although, the way he’d looked into my eyes made me wonder if I was wrong about that.

  I was still wrapped up in my thoughts when I heard angry voices off to my right. A short distance along the residential street I was passing, a thin woman with graying hair was facing off with a balding man with a gas-powered lawnmower beside him.

  “That machine keeps belching out poison!” the woman groused in a raised voice. “It’s bad for my roses!”

  “Get a grip, Eleanor,” the man said with exasperation.

  I realized it was Eleanor Grimes he was arguing with. Almost without conscious thought, I turned off my original path and headed their way.

  “Don’t you tell me to get a grip, Henry Blackwell! You still haven’t replaced my good gardening gloves that your dog destroyed!”

  “I’m done with this conversation,” the man grumbled.

  He yanked the cord on his lawnmower and the motor started up with a loud rumble and a cloud of black smoke. He stalked away from Eleanor, pushing his mower ahead of him.