Page 63 of Dead & Breakfast
McMartin rolled his eyes—when his granny’s back was turned, of course—and gestured to a doorway. “Living room’s through here.”
Out of his uniform and in a T-shirt and sweatpants, McMartin looked somehow more authentic, like he wasn’t playing a role for once. Arthur couldn’t let that cloud his judgment, though. McMartin had paid Brody a lot of money for some reason, and they’d find out what it was before they left.
The living room was large but cozy, one wall covered in photographs of the family dating back generations—though he felt confident Sal was still the oldest thing in the room.
“Take a seat,” the sheriff said, channeling a small portion of his grandmother’s hostess instincts, “and explain what you’re doing here.”
Sal leaned back, letting his full weight be absorbed by the cushions, but Arthur sat gingerly on the edge of the sofa. This was going to be a delicate conversation. Comfort could wait.
“You mentioned before you employed Brody Young for a while,” Arthur said.
“Yeah. So?” McMartin sat on the armchair across from them, hooking his hands around both armrests rather more aggressively than was strictly necessary.
Arthur cleared his throat and continued. “We’ve been looking into who might have had reason to hurt Brody—”
“That’s a police matter.” McMartin glared and pointed with two fingers at them both. “I’ll remind you that you’re my top suspects.”
“We didn’t hurt anyone,” Arthur insisted. “And we intend to find the real culprit before you can wrongly arrest us.”
“We know you paid Brody Young an extra bonus after you fired him,” Salvatore exclaimed, sitting up straighter and returning the sheriff’s irritable stare.
Arthur stiffened. Sal really had no instinct for timing. If they came on too strong, McMartin would simply utilize his authority to avoid the conversation. “We received a tip, you see,” he said as gently as he could.
McMartin shifted uncomfortably. “A tip?”
“Yes, a tip.” Salvatore jumped to corroborate the lie.
“I don’t have to tell you anything,” McMartin snapped.
“That’s no way to talk to guests,” Mrs.McMartin said as she entered the room, carrying three glasses of iced tea. She handed them to Arthur, Salvatore, and McMartin.
“Sorry, Granny.” McMartin sipped the tea. “Thanks for this.”
By its scent, the tea was a floral blend, primarily hibiscus.
“Don’t let me catch you being rude to guests again, even if they are undead.” Mrs.McMartin turned to Sal and Arthur. “Now, if you two boys need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”
Sal raised his hand as if he were a student in class. “Don’t suppose you have a straw, do you?”
“Let me check, dear.” Mrs.McMartin bustled from the room, leaving them alone with the sheriff once more.
“As we were saying,” Arthur began to break the awkward silence. “The amount you paid Brody is suspicious.”
“Excuse me if I don’t take yourtipvery seriously.”
“You should!” Sal leaned forward, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Arthur here says I’m a wizard with—”
“We have photographic evidence,” Arthur interjected, keen to steer the conversation away from wherever Sal was taking things. He withdrew the phone he’d confiscated from Sal back at the Young residence and produced the picture of the pay stub.
“Where did you get this?” McMartin asked, leaning in. “That looks like a desk in the background.”
Sal, to his credit, did not miss a beat. “One of Brody’s friendssent this to us. So, Sheriff, why the large payment to someone you fired?” Salvatore raised his eyebrows.
“I don’t have to sit here and let you interrogate me while that kid is in surgery. He might not wake up, you know.”
Arthur’s stomach plummeted. He knew Brody’s condition was unstable, but hearing the sheriff say it out loud was another thing entirely.
McMartin stood. “I know you think Brody killed the mayor, but he’s not a murderer. He was a model employee—”
