The Good, The Dead, The Llama: Friendship Harbor Mysteries, #6

By Kathy Love and Erin McCarthy

Spring has sprung in Friendship Harbor and love is in the air… along with murder.

 

Sophie LaFleur's plan for a charity bachelor/bachelorette auction seems like a perfect way to celebrate spring. Blossoming flowers, blossoming love—it was going to be a magical event to usher in spring and forget about both a recent slaying in her beloved Steamy's pub, and her own failed romance with her pub manager. 

 

Even Jack, her pet llama, seems excited to participate in the auction. All the bids are rolling in and the event is a success. That is, until Sophie discovers a dead body in her lilac bushes. That tends to put a damper on new romance… and her flower garden.

 

Now, she's not only matchmaking, she's solving a murder. Except how do you figure out who the murderer is when no one seems to have a clear motive? Time to dush off Sophie's sleuthing shoes and uncover all of the town secrets.

 

Unlike with a Friendship Harbor spring rain, you can't wash all the dirt away…  

 

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kathy Love
• Release date: May 31, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201031565

Book preview

ONE

There are actually a lot of people out there, Sophie, Brandy said, peeking out through the curtain at the corner of our makeshift stage.

I could hear the crowd gathering on my back lawn for our inaugural Steamy’s Singles Bachelor and Bachelorette Auction. I still had a dozen things to do before the event began.

I looked up from my checklist, glancing around to see if the florist delivered the two centerpieces for the stage. I spotted them on the far side of the stage. They were smaller than I had expected and didn’t appear to have any of the flowers I requested, but since Crazy Daisy’s Flowers cut me a great deal, I couldn’t really complain. Nor did I dare to. Crazy Daisy was not false advertising. The owner, Daisy White, was known to destroy her own floral arrangements at events if the customer had any complaints. She was very territorial about her baby’s breath floral fillers.

You say that like you didn’t expect any turnout at all, I commented in response to Brandy.

She made a face, validating that she had anticipated no actual interest in our auction. ‘Steamy’s Singles’ isn’t exactly a sexy title. It sounds like a microwave dinner for one.

I cringed slightly. She did kind of have a point.

Besides, she added, it’s not like everyone in town doesn’t already know everyone. Who’s going to pay for a date with someone they chose not to date for free?

Another valid point. I cleared my throat, then returned my attention to the clipboard in my hands. Since we had started this kind of crazy idea to do a bachelor and bachelorette auction, I’d been wandering around with said clipboard looking like a mildly deranged cruise director. Because it’s fun, that’s why.

We should have bused in strangers from Bar Harbor.

And why would strangers agree to do that? I asked, bemused. Welcome to Friendship Harbor, home of the Blueberry Festival, loads of single people, and a frighteningly high murder rate per capita. Sounds like such a draw.

I loved my adopted town with all my heart after only eight months of living there, but for the average nonlocal, the appeal might be in question.

I swear, if someone gets killed at this event, Dean will lose his mind.

Dean had already lost his mind if you asked me. He had suddenly pulled the plug on our fledgling dating relationship, citing conflicts from us working together here at my inherited pub, Steamy’s. Given that he had been less than enthusiastic the last few weeks we were dating, I hadn’t been caught off guard by his decision and decided it wasn’t worth getting hysterical over. He had a propensity for surliness anyway and my motto was Good Vibes. His motto seemed to be Grumpy On Every Day That Ends With a Y.

Still, it had been bewildering and hurtful. I thought I’d been a darn good girlfriend, but here I was putting myself up for auction along with a dozen other sad singles in town.

Since the breakup, Dean and I had worked hard on not being awkward with each other at the pub, and it seemed to be successful. With the tension of dating gone, we had slipped back into a pleasant, but not deep, friendship.

No one is getting killed, I told Brandy as I moved the floral arrangements, though why I said that with such confidence I wasn’t sure. It wasn’t as if someone wasn’t getting whacked every other week in Friendship Harbor.

But it was May, and no one had died since the blizzard in February, so maybe things were turning around.

Or we were due for another death.

Yikes.

Not wanting to dwell on that, I stepped back to admire my decorative floral placement. Good enough.

I was about to head to the pub’s kitchen to check on how the volunteer staff was faring since most of our servers were in the auction, when Brandy murmured, Hello, stranger. Wow. That man is hot. Where has he been my whole life?

Brandy had notoriously poor taste in men, but I was curious enough to glance through the curtain from behind her. I saw instantly who she was talking about. He stood out like a J. Crew model at a heavy metal concert. Most of Friendship Harbor’s residents had turned out for the auction in jeans and boots. This guy was wearing khakis, a polo shirt, and a blazer, like he’d strolled off his yacht to attend the event.

For once, I agreed with Brandy’s opinion, though. He really was good-looking.

He seems out of place, Brandy said, backing up my assessment.

That’s my ex.

I nearly jumped at Friendship Harbor’s kindergarten teacher and former head cheerleader, Carly Caldwell’s voice right next to my left ear. Carly was perky with a capital P and tended to make me feel like I didn’t clap my hands enough.

He must be here to bid on me in some pathetic attempt to win me back.

She didn’t say it like she thought it was pathetic. Her voice was both triumphant and hopeful, and a glance back (and down, given how petite she was) showed she wore a smile from ear to ear.

When were you dating that guy? Brandy asked, skeptically voicing what I was thinking.

We would have noticed if he had been strolling around town.

Since undergrad at Boston College, Carly said. We’ve been long-distance since I moved back here. She frowned. Until he broke things off recently.

He broke things off, huh? Brandy said, pulling back the curtain to spy on him again, her interest piqued even more.

Carly glared at the back of Brandy’s head. Then shot an equally annoyed look toward me, although I wasn’t sure why I was included in her irritation. I wasn’t blatantly ogling her ex. I glanced back out at the lawn over the top of Brandy’s head, my gaze landing on the handsome stranger.

Okay, maybe sneaking a peek but definitely not ogling.

Carly shot us one last dirty look, then headed to the edge of the stage, where the other eligibles gathered.

Hello, ladies. Oliver strode across the stage toward us.

I had invited my bestie to come visit from California to take part in the Steamy’s Singles. He’d recently lost the opportunity for a reboot of the kids’ show that he’d starred in during the early 90s. So, I had asked him if he would ‌emcee this event. I hoped having something actor-ish to do would cheer him up a bit. Not that a fundraising auction was exactly a fabulous acting gig. But he’d agreed right away.

Not only had Oliver agreed, but as I took in his royal blue tuxedo matched with a pink and blue polka dot bow tie, I realized he was not only happy to be involved but taking it very seriously.

Brandy blew out a whistle. Oliver, you look smashing.

Oliver bowed slightly. Why, thank you. If you are going to throw an event, then I’m going to make it an event.

I moved forward to give him a hug. I appreciated his enthusiasm, especially after Brandy’s undisguised doubt. I stepped back. He did look fantastic. I glanced down at my sundress, a little boho number I found in my grandmother’s closet, along with a matching crocheted cardigan. It was late May in Maine, and while we had lucked out with a sunny day, there was still a little chill in the air.

I glanced at Brandy, who had opted for a miniskirt, sweater, and cute black booties. Her sweater was a concession to cooler weather. But a V-neck plunged just enough to hint at her cleavage. Suddenly, I felt like maybe I looked more like my grandmother than I had intended.

Not that it really mattered. The auction was just for fun and to help raise some money to replace our freezer at the pub, which had decided to go on the fritz three times this past winter. Oh, and also to raise money for the Friendship Harbor Little League. I supposed that part of the charity event was a tad more important than my freezer.

I wasn’t sure that doing a bachelor/bachelorette auction was the typical fundraiser for a kids’ sporting league, but despite Friendship Harbor being a small town, the locals were surprisingly open about thinking outside the box. Plus, it saved parents from having to buy boxes of candy that they didn’t want. Instead, if Brandy’s take on this whole event was to be believed, they would just buy a date they didn’t want instead. Since not much happened in town, the locals were onboard with anything that gave them an excuse to get out and socialize.

Oliver cast a look around the stage. This looks nice.

We’ve been friends long enough for me to know when he was just being kind. The stage definitely was not glamorous by any stretch of the imagination. I had borrowed the staging from the local elementary school, as well as a podium for Oliver to use as the emcee. I’d had help to create the back and side walls from plywood that Friendship Harbor Building Company had donated. It was actually damaged wood, but with the help of Hannah, my neighbor’s daughter and her friends and some discount paint, the kids had covered the flaws.

I’d also purchased a cheap red carpet runner from an online party supply store. And then, of course, we had Crazy Daisy’s unimpressive floral centerpieces. Overall, the stage looked pretty cobbled together.

I told myself it just added to the quaintness of the event. If a bachelor/bachelorette auction could be labeled quaint. I chose to believe that everything in Friendship Harbor could be seen that way since the town itself was like something out of a tourism brochure for charming coastal New England towns.

But I still felt the need to defend my work. Well, I figured the attendees will be focused on the bachelors and bachelorettes, anyway.

Very true. Oliver gave me an encouraging nod.

His agreement calmed me, even if it was feigned. Unfortunately, that was the moment when Dougie McDougall decided to tap me on the shoulder. Dougie was Friendship Harbor’s one and only plumber, and he was one of our bachelors today. For some reason, he’d opted to present himself as an eligible bachelor by wearing a pair of his plumbing coveralls.

Interesting choice of outfit, Dougie, Brandy said, making a face.

Fortunately, Dougie was an easygoing guy, and possibly not that great at picking up on sarcasm. He grinned, proudly tugging at his coveralls. Yeah, I figured this was an excellent opportunity to advertise.

He turned around to show the Dooty Calls Plumbing logo embroidered on the back.

Again, it didn’t really seem like he needed to advertise, given he was the only plumber in Friendship Harbor. But I supposed he deserved some points for thinking outside the box himself.

Dougie turned back to me, his easy smile fading. Sophie, is it possible to make sure someone in particular doesn’t bid on you? Well, me, I mean. I don’t want to stop someone from bidding on you.

I blinked. Um, I’m not really sure how we would do that.

Don’t worry, Oliver reassured the dismayed plumber. Who do you not want to bid on you?

Dougie leaned closer to Oliver and whispered, Melanie Arsenault.

Brandy and I exchanged a look of understanding. Melanie Arsenault was a nice enough woman, but she could be a bit abrasive. Since everyone knew everything about everyone else in this town, I’d heard through the grapevine that Dougie and Melanie had been dating briefly. I guess it didn’t end well. So far, I hadn’t heard of anyone having a good relationship with Melanie. I would not reflect too long on the fact that Melanie seemed to attract more men than I did.

Oliver nodded. No problem. I’ve got you.

Dougie’s smile returned. He tipped his baseball cap, which also had his business logo on it, and headed back to wait with the other auctionees—if that was a word.

How exactly are you going to do that? Brandy asked.

Oliver shrugged. Clearly, he didn’t plan to worry about it until it happened.

So, Soph, what’s the plan? he asked, adjusting his bow tie.

Let me see. I looked at my handy-dandy clipboard, even though I really didn’t need to. I had the whole list memorized. I was starting to feel a bit as if the clipboard was becoming my emotional support office supply. Well, I have the podium for you.

I looked up from my to-do list and pointed toward the borrowed piece of school furniture. I also have a microphone set up there. Although, it’s really just Hannah’s karaoke machine that she got for Christmas. But she assures me that it has decent sound quality.

Since Hannah was fourteen and only used her mic and speaker at sleepovers, I knew I was taking a major leap of faith trusting her review of sound equipment, but I hadn’t been able to track down anything else. There was a deejay in Friendship Harbor, but he and his wife were gone for three weeks on an Alaskan cruise.

Oliver frowned as I gestured to the hot pink speaker set up in front of the podium.

He shrugged again. I can work with that.

I smiled, pleased that he was being so amenable.

Great, because Hannah and her friend are also our deejays today. I jerked my head toward the teen and her friend setting up two Bluetooth speakers. Again, she assured me the small portable speakers would have enough oomph. It was very possible this could be a fiasco.

This time, Oliver didn’t quite mask his concern.

I quickly handed him a small stack of papers, held together with a binder clip. I have a list of all the bachelors and bachelorettes in the order that they’ll be auctioned. I even typed up their names along with a short bio. As if that somehow made this entire event much more professional.

Before Oliver could take it, someone tapped my shoulder again. This time, it was Melanie Arsenault herself.

Melanie was a colorful character. She could be very likable, but she was a little rough around the edges—which was evident from her clothing choice for the day. Her faded, baggy overalls smudged with dirt on the bib and pant legs made Dougie look positively overdressed. At least, I hoped it was only dirt. I could tell she came here directly from caring for her horses. Mud caked her worn work boots. I also hoped it was just mud. She’d tucked her hair up under a straw cowboy hat.

Hey, Sophie, I need to talk to you about this whole auction thing, she said in her brusque, no-nonsense manner.

Was it wrong that I hoped she might be backing out of the event? I mean, that would make Dougie’s request a nonissue.

But no such luck.

So, can you just make sure that Dougie McDougall doesn’t bid on me?

I exchanged looks with Oliver, who made a face as if to say, See, it all worked out.

That will be no problem, Oliver assured her with a bright grin.

Melanie nodded approvingly at my friend. I knew you Hollywood types would know how to handle this sort of thing.

I blinked, not quite sure what that meant. Nor did I really consider myself a Hollywood type, despite having been raised in California and embarking on an acting career. My successes had been minimal in the industry, and