“She’s trying to get something going for the winter season. I don’t think people really get how entrepreneurial Maya is.”

He could see that. Maya always had some idea or other.

“All I had to do was clear out some junk to make sure there was nothing dangerous lying around. I figured since the reno is stalled, she might as well use the space.”

Yeah. He was monumentally annoyed about that. He’d spoken to the tradespeople who’d been slacking and had been assured they would reapply themselves.

“Maya says the unfinished nature of the space will add to the murderous ambiance,” Eve whispered before the lights went out. All of them. So completely that he suspected Maya had flipped the breaker. A murmur threaded through the crowd, and when the power came back on, there was a spotlight trained on the “crime scene.” The sheet had been removed from the dead body—and it was a mermaid.

Well, it was actually Jenna dressed in the mermaid queen costume they used for the parade, but close enough.

The show was great. Fun and packed with twists. It was even genuinely scary for a moment, when a second “victim”—Karl Andersen—staggered abruptly out of the kitchen with “blood” gushing out of a wound in his chest.

Eve shrieked and instinctively jerked back, crashing into Sawyer’s chest. He tightened his arms around her before she could pull away. He understood the reaction. They all knew the blood was fake, but it was so graphic, and it was right there.

What he did not understand was why he didn’t let Eve go once the moment had passed.

He did let her go when his cop instincts felt someone’s attention on them. He looked up. Art Ramsey, who was running the spotlight, was perched atop some scaffolding and using a small light to illuminate his own work. But he wasn’t watching the play; he was watching them.

He looked away quickly, but instead of returning his attention to the performance, he looked at someone behind Sawyer and winked. Sawyer craned his neck to see who Art was sending secret messages to: Pearl.

He suddenly understood what was happening. Why all the work that he wasn’t personally doing on the inn had come to a halt.

Damn them.

Damn him. He should have figured it out sooner.

After the play, he cornered them. Sawyer wasn’t on duty, so he wasn’t in uniform, but he put on his best chief-of-police voice as he pointed to an empty corner—coincidentally, where the hardwood for upstairs was stacked. “I need to speak to both of you. Now.” He glared at them for a long moment before he spoke. “Are you sabotaging the reno of this place?”

The way Pearl’s eyes and mouth opened in a caricature of shock confirmed it.

“Of course not,” Art said. “Frankly I’m offended that you would suggest such a thing.”