FRIEND OR FROZE

STREET FOOD COZIES, BOOK 6

GRETCHEN ALLEN

SUMMER PRESCOTT BOOKS PUBLISHING

Copyright 2023 Summer Prescott Books

All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication nor any of the information herein may be quoted from, nor reproduced, in any form, including but not limited to: printing, scanning, photocopying, or any other printed, digital, or audio formats, without prior express written consent of the copyright holder.

**This book is a work of fiction. Any similarities to persons, living or dead, places of business, or situations past or present, is completely unintentional.

CHAPTER ONE

“Am I seeing double, or are there two of them?” Asher Scanlan asked. He stood next to Billie Halifax, his girlfriend and co-owner of the Sea Glass Island Festival Grounds and Commissary Kitchen.

“They’re twins.” Billie rolled her eyes. They stood inside the large, metal building situated in the center of the festival grounds watching as Polly and Liza Sheridan, identical twin sisters and recent culinary school graduates, buzzed around two of the test kitchen areas in the middle of the building.

“I can see that they’re twins, dork,” Asher said. “But I don’t think I’ve ever seen two people who look exactly alike appear so different.”

“I know,” Billie whispered. She gripped Asher’s arm and squeezed for emphasis. “Be quiet, or they’ll hear you.”

Asher chuckled and leaned over to kiss her on top of the head. “What are they doing, anyway?”

“They’re making their homemade ice cream,” Billie said. She was a little perplexed by their activities as well, but she didn’t want to admit it. Liza, the more outgoing of the pair, buzzed around the kitchen mixing heavy cream and sugar into the large ice cream maker while her twin sister, Polly, chopped up fresh fruits for the varieties. Once in a while, they would stand together in the middle of one of the kitchen spaces and argue over which variety they wanted to create next.

“There is no doubt they’re good at what they do,” Asher observed. He had availed himself to the first few batches of their ice cream varieties already and could attest to the creamy, homemade flavor.

“Yeah, but they’re disorganized and easily distracted by their own issues,” Billie said. “That’s not going to work if they plan to stay on here as co-food truck managers.”

Asher shook his head. “You know, there used to be an old fashioned ice cream shop right there on the boardwalk, just a few doors down from Rhonda’s,” he said. “The islanders alone are going to go bananas over this truck, not to mention every time we have another festival here.”

“By the way, what’s the event we’re hosting this weekend?” Billie asked. “I’ve been so caught up trying to find the perfect manager for this truck that I forgot to look.”

“Well,” Asher said. He raised his eyebrows as he spoke. “This weekend is the first ever Influencer Festival. Hundreds of social media models will descend on these hallowed acres to compete for sponsorships from some of the largest names in the fashion and beauty industry. Modeling agencies will also be on hand in search of tomorrow’s fresh faces to push their brands into the future.”

Billie eyed him suspiciously. “Did you memorize the festival literature? That sounded a lot like an advertisement on the radio or something,” she said.

Asher blushed slightly. “There wasn’t a whole lot of description about things this time. I took some notes, so I’d know what to say if anyone asked.” He threw his arms up in the air. “Models I get. Modeling agencies, sure. But what the heck does an influencer even do? I have no idea what these people are doing here.”

“I think it’s the wave of the future,” Billie said. “So many younger people look to these social media people for everything. I have a feeling this weekend is going to be a little different than we’re used to.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” Asher said. He glanced toward the ice cream sisters before he pulled Billie by her arm closer to the hallway leading to his office. “These influencer people are really something. I’ve had four phone calls already this morning from people trying to figure out what freebies I was willing to offer them if they come and attend the festival here. I don’t even understand what they are asking me.”

“Knock it off, Polly!” Liza shouted at her sister in the middle of her kitchen space. Billie grabbed Asher this time and pulled him back down the hall.

“I can’t believe I agreed to take this job with you,” Polly shouted. Billie watched in horror as she picked up a plastic pitcher filled with heavy cream and dumped it over the top of her sister’s head.

“That’s enough!” Billie shouted. “What on earth is wrong with the two of you? You both better get busy and clean up this mess while I consider whether or not either of you is going to have a job when this is all said and done.” She stormed out of the kitchen area and headed straight for the door outside. Asher followed behind her.

“Where are you going?” he asked when the door closed behind him.

“To the beach for a walk with my dog,” Billie said. “As obstinate as he is, I think a few minutes in the salty air with a more rational creature will do me some good.”

Asher nodded. “I think you’re right,” he said with a chuckle. “I’ve never seen you so close to killing someone before.”

“Can you not put it that way?” Billie asked. “I mean, literally anything else sounds better than me killing someone.”

“Yeah, good point,” Asher said. He looked back at the commissary kitchen. “I’ll go inside and try to see what I can do to help.”

“Thank you,” Billie said. “Sometimes I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He leaned over and kissed her. “Just remember how wonderful I am the next time you get mad at me for some stupid thing I say.”

“Deal.” Billie laughed. She left him and headed across the sand to the small area where her tiny house was parked. Waffles, the Tibetan Mastiff, lay sleeping inside the large dog house Billie had dubbed The Doggie Mansion. She patted the top of the dog house to rouse him from his nap.

“Let’s go for a walk, buddy,” she said. Waffles bounded out of the dog house. He turned around three times inside the small, fenced-in area Billie had built in the time since she’d acquired the pup. His previous owner, Travis Woodson, had been killed several months before. Over time, Billie had slowly adapted to life as a dog owner.

After turning in the required circles, Waffles stood still while Billie opened the gate and hooked the leash to his collar. If she took too long to secure the leash, Waffles would begin a tantrum by prancing in place. If she continued without taking off quickly enough, he’d begin straining on the leash or turn around and jump on her. More than once, he had knocked her down on her rear end.

But today she was fast enough to meet his approval. They headed beyond the festival grounds and through the gate toward the boardwalk area. She planned to take the dog down the beach but headed for the small collection of shops along the boardwalk first. She waved at Enid Greene, the manager of her mousse food truck, which was parked on the other side of the small shopping mall between the boardwalk and the beach.

When the trucks were not in use for special events or festivals on the grounds, the managers parked them along the boardwalk and served the locals and other visitors to the island. The taco, pizza, and barbecue trucks usually remained in place, however.

Billie steered the dog toward the row of stores. She headed for the storefront near the end of the row where her closest friend on the island ran the community center. Rhonda Knapp had become a dear friend and sometimes mother figure and mentor to her. Rhonda had been a close friend to Adeline, Billie’s grandmother and the benefactor of the fleet of food trucks and half ownership in the festival grounds and the commissary kitchen.

Her mission today was seeking wisdom for dealing with the terrible twins. She had advertised the debut of the ice cream truck that very weekend. The truck would sit inside the festival grounds until the weekend’s event was over. She had heavily promoted the new truck for the old-fashioned, homemade ice cream that would be featured. There was no way those two were ready for that.

“Good morning,” Billie called out to Rhonda when she spotted her sweeping the walkway.

“I think you mean good afternoon,” the older woman said to her as she approached. “Because it’s actually twenty minutes past noon.”

“Okay, good afternoon, then,” Billie said with a smirk. “Are you busy?”

“Oh, it has been quite a morning.” Rhonda waved Billie inside and closed the door behind them. “I have no idea who these people are, but they sure have a lot of expectations.” She tucked the straw broom in the closet and walked behind the reception counter, producing a dog treat for Waffles.

“What do you mean?” Billie asked.

“I mean, how many times a day do you think is normal to have to explain to someone that you are not going to let them take over your office? Or that you do not have the power to shut down the beach for them so they can take pictures of themselves and call it a fashion shoot?”

“Who wants you to shut down the beach?” Billie asked. She turned around to look at the people gathered on the white sand. She had gotten used to the sight of a lot of people since she moved to the island, but she had never seen so many people pointing their cell phones at other people.

“All of these young people,” Rhonda said. “And even a few middle aged ones, to be honest. They come in here dressed in their bathing suits or even less and they walk behind the counter and stand there like they’re about to take over or something.”

“Are you kidding?”

Rhonda shook her head slowly. “I’m not sure I know what an influencer is or does, but I think I’m about to get my master’s degree in it,” she said. “Can you believe this girl came in here and demanded that I talk to her about using her influence for views or clicks or likes or something. How does one use their influence, anyway? What do they even use it for?”

“What did you say to her?” Billie asked.

“I said that if she needed a job, I could use someone to clean the bathrooms a couple of times each day.”

“Oh, I bet that went over well.” Billie laughed.

“Not really,” Rhonda said. “She asked me if I was insane and then called me an out-of-touch, old windbag.”

“I cannot imagine that you took that quietly,” Billie said.

“I didn’t take it quietly,” Rhonda said. She glanced in the direction of the broom behind the door.

Billie gasped. “You didn’t.”

Rhonda simply smiled. “That’s why I was outside just now. I wasn’t sweeping. I was practicing influencer restriction.”

“You are a riot,” Billie said.

Rhonda reached behind her counter and tossed another treat in Waffles’ direction. “After my morning, something tells me the two of you aren’t here just for a social visit,” she said.

Billie pulled a chair from the high-top table set near the window. “The truth is, I need some advice,” she said.

“Let me guess.” Rhonda pulled out a second chair and took a seat. “Is it man related? Money related? Dog related? Oh, wait! How about influencer related?”

“None of the above,” Billie said. She sighed, then launched into her description of the dilemma with the twins. “When I interviewed them, I thought it was charming how they finished each other’s sentences and seemed to know what the other sister was thinking.”

“But now?”

“But now they seem more like a pair of immature middle schoolers who like the same boy than they do a pair of recently graduated professional chefs,” Billie said. “And the real problem is how much I’ve built up the buzz around the new truck ahead of its debut this weekend. I can’t have two immature sisters running the show, and I don’t think I have the ability or the time to make it work if I have to step in and take over.”

“Why are you so stressed out over this one?” Rhonda asked. “Aside from the fiasco with the taco truck, everything else has gone off fairly smoothly. You might have a few rough patches to work out but look at how Marcel has taken over that taco truck. And Dillon is the best thing that has happened to you so far, aside from Asher, I suppose.”

“I know we’ve had some rough starts already, but these two can’t even prepare their menu for me without almost coming to blows in the middle of the test kitchen,” Billie said.

“There are ways to deal with them,” Rhonda said. “And if all else fails you can always contact Alex Regent and arrange for an emergency manager to fly down here.”

Billie shuddered at the thought of informing her late grandmother’s attorney about her concerns. As executor of her will, he alone had the power to take everything her grandmother had left her and send her packing back home to Boston and her dead-end waitressing job.

“I don’t want to do that, Rhonda,” she said. “I just want to get it through their heads that this is not a professional way to behave, and they are very close to losing their jobs altogether. I can’t deal with their nonsense.”

“Have you told the two of them that yet?” Rhonda asked.

Billie nodded. “Pretty much, yeah,” she said.

Rhonda eyed her for a moment. “I have the feeling there’s more to this story than you’re letting on,” she said. “What has you so worked up over this?”

Billie hung her head and sighed. “It’s this truck,” she said. “I have a lot of money tied up in it. And I mean a lot. The ice cream machines alone cost tens of thousands of dollars, never mind everything else. Nolan had a heck of a time making sure that everything fit right and that all ten commercial machines could produce an actual homemade ice cream.”

“How on earth did you get ten machines in that small space?”

“The machines themselves are countertop machines,” Billie said. “Nolan designed it so that eight of them sit along the back wall of the truck. He put two more on the window side on either end of the deep dipping cabinets, and there are two large refrigerators in the rear of the truck. I have a lot of money invested in this truck, more than in any other.”

“Well,” Rhonda said. “It sounds to me like these two ladies need the influence of a tough older sister to kick their butts into alignment. I suggest you take that pup back to his palatial estate and sit these two down and give them the talking to of a lifetime.”

CHAPTER TWO

Billie walked directly back to her tiny house where she secured Waffles in his small enclosure. She hung up the leash inside her house then marched straight for the commissary kitchen.

“That was fast,” Asher said when she walked back inside.

“How are things going here?” Billie asked him. He made no attempt to answer, just raised a hand toward the ceiling and walked away shaking his head. “That well, eh?”

She didn’t wait for him to return and fill her in on what had happened since her brief visit to the boardwalk with Waffles. Instead, she stepped inside her office for a moment to gather herself, then headed straight for the kitchen space. Before she even reached the end of the hallway, she could hear the bickering between the sisters.

“You always have to be the one in charge,” one of the twins spat toward the other.

“This was my idea,” the other sister said. “In fact, all of this is because of me! You just came along for the ride. You never ever have an original idea. You just follow me around and hang on to my apron strings like a puppy.”

“Shut up, Liza!”

Billie decided it was time to break it up. She entered the kitchen space and stopped. Liza Sheridan stood in front of the counter. She held a large metal ladle over her head.

“Put the soup ladle down,” Billie fumed. “As a matter of fact, I want both of you to back away and put everything you have in your hands down.”

“Way to go, Polly,” Liza sneered. “You probably just got both of us fired from this stupid job.”

“No, that’s something both of you accomplished together,” Billie shouted at them.

“But she’s the one…”

“Enough! I have heard enough from the two of you.” Billie slammed her hand down on the counter. “Both of you, set everything down and grab a chair right out there.” She pointed to the seating area and walked around the counter to turn off the water that was running from the sink faucet.

“I don’t want to sit by her,” they said almost simultaneously.

“I don’t care what you want,” Billie said. “Neither of you. Just sit down and shut your mouths right now.”

“You need to listen to her, Polly,” Liza said.

“Shut up, Liza!”

Billie balled her hands into fists and beat them against her legs as she walked toward the table. She forced herself to count to ten three different times as she walked in their direction. “Sit down,” she roared when the bickering began again.

“Why do you want us to sit together?” one of them asked. Billie stopped caring which twin was which.

“If your butts aren’t in seats in ten seconds, I am going to fire you both right here and now,” she said. “And you can find your own way back home without a dime from me to help you get there.”

“That’s not fair!” both twins spoke at once.

Billie took her seat and pointed at each of them. “What about what you’re doing to each other? How fair is that?”

“What do you mean?” Polly asked.

“What do you think? Look how both of you do your darndest to sabotage the other one,” Billie said. “I have never seen two sisters behave so terribly toward each other.”

Both twins spoke again at the same time. Billie put her head in her hands and shook it slowly from time to time. Within thirty seconds, both sisters had risen out of their seats. They continued to speak over each other and were pointing their fingers in each other’s faces.

“Listen to yourselves,” Billie shouted over them. “I just warned both of you that you were about ten seconds away from being fired, and you can’t shut up long enough to listen.”

“She’s the one you need to fire,” Liza said and pointed at her sister.

Billie shook her head. “No, I need to fire you both.” She stood up from her seat. “This is useless. Turn in your keys to the ice cream truck and I will send your checks to the school, in separate envelopes.”

“Wait, that’s it?” Polly asked.

“You’re not going to give us another chance?” Liza said.

“Why should I? So you can drive off my customers with your nonstop fighting and arguing with each other? Either that or one of you is going to throw something at the other and send it through one of my brand-new ice cream machines in the truck,” she said. “I can’t have you fighting and bickering with each other.”

“What if we promise to get along?” Polly begged.

“Yeah, we can get along just fine when we put our minds to it,” Liza said.

Billie shrugged her shoulders. “Why haven’t you been doing that all along? I can’t imagine showing up for my first day of work at my dream job and acting like a pair of twelve-year-olds fighting over who is more popular.”

The twins looked at each other. “We don’t know,” they said in unison.

“Let’s try it this way,” Billie said. “I want the each of you to give me one good reason why I should hire the other.”

“Wait, you want to know why we think you should hire the other one?” Polly asked.

“That’s exactly what I want you to do,” Billie said. She sat back and folded her arms over her chest. “And I will decide based on your answers whether or not I am going to keep you on the ice cream truck.”

“Can we have a minute to think?”

Billie shook her head. “No. You can tell me right now,” she said. “In ten seconds or less.”

“Fine, fine,” Liza said. “You should keep Polly on because you will never find another chef with more dedication to quality. She uses the best ingredients and refuses to take short cuts It’s like everything just flows with her.”

“And how about Liza? Polly, why should I keep her on?”

“Because she is a hardworking and generous person who will try everything she can to get where she needs to be,” Polly said. “If she doesn’t know how to do something the first time, she won’t stop until she can do it perfectly in her sleep.”

“Okay,” Billie said. “So, what I’m hearing is that Polly has the natural talent and ability, and Liza has the drive and work ethic to see anything through.”

“That sounds about right,” Polly said.

“Do you agree, Liza?”

Liza nodded her head. “We’ve always been that way,” she said. “Just like Polly is more introverted than me, but I can speak to people better than she can.”

“That is true.” Polly chuckled.

“You should hear yourselves,” Billie said. “The truth is you’re both better with each other, and you know it. But you can’t get out of your own way to take advantage of each other’s strengths.”

“We’ve always been like this,” Polly admitted. “I didn’t mean any of the things I said, Liza.”

“Neither did I,” Liza said.

“Do you two live together?” Billie asked.

Both girls nodded. “We got a place on the mainland together.”

“That was your first mistake,” Billie said. “You need separate places. You already work together, you went to the same school together, and now you’re living together?”

“We’ve always lived together,” Polly pointed out.

“Yeah, we’ve never lived apart,” Liza said.

“It’s time you try,” Billie said. “I think that’s the only way either of you are going to keep this job.”

“So, you haven’t fired us?” Polly asked.

“Not yet,” Billie said. “But you have one hour to clean this up and prepare the basic menu for me so I can preview it before the festival begins.”

“You got it, Boss,” Polly said. She stood from her chair and pulled her sister to her feet. “Let’s go, Sis!”

Billie watched the two of them walk back to the kitchen area like excited school girls headed off to cheerleading practice. She stood up and headed back toward her office. When she glanced through the window, she noticed a group of young people gathered right outside the door. She walked directly past the office and went outside to the festival grounds.

She looked for Asher as soon as she stepped outside. The people looked similar to the groups she had seen earlier on the beach. They walked around without paying much attention to anything else, all with their cell phones high over their heads. Billie wound her way through the crowd and searched for any sign of Asher.

“Excuse me.” Billie walked by three young women and a young man taking pictures from all angles. She’d tried to get around them but ended up right in the middle of whatever it was they were doing. “What are you doing here?” Billie asked the group she was nearly knocked down by.

“Uh, whatever we want to do,” one of the girls said to her. She was tall, lean, and blonde and dressed like she had just spent a day playing beach volleyball. “It’s a free country. Now get out of the way, Grandma!”

“Grandma? Did you seriously just call me that?”

“If the corrective shoe fits.” The girl snickered.

“Okay, number one, I am only in my mid-thirties,” Billie snapped. “And number two, this is private property, and you are trespassing. The festival doesn’t even begin until tomorrow, so you have to go. Get out of here before the police come and escort you out of here.”

The young woman rolled her eyes and raised her cell phone high above her head. She smiled, jutted out one hip, then snapped a series of photos of herself.

“Look, lady,” the young man spoke this time. “We know the festival starts tomorrow, but we also know that without people like us, there will be no festival. So, nobody is going to make us leave, even if we’re irritating them. Because they know that if we get mad enough, we will take ourselves away and there will be no festival.”

“So, that means you can just go on back to your rocking chair and fuss at your cats,” the young woman said as she lowered her cell phone.

“No, I can’t,” Billie said flatly. “Because you see, this is my property. I don’t care if you return for the festival over the weekend or not. The vendors have already paid their bills, so whether or not you return makes no difference to me whatsoever. If you don’t come back and spend your money here, they’re the ones who are going to be upset with you.”

“Spend money? Why would we spend money?” another young woman asked. “Just us being here is enough.”

Billie sighed. “How do you figure that?”

“Because,” the second young woman said. “We provide them with exposure.”

“Exposure?”

“Yes, exposure,” the first young woman said. “We post about them and tag them in our photos. That gets their names out to others.”

“What if their names are already out to others?” Billie asked. “What they need is for you to support their businesses.”

“We do support their businesses,” the young man replied.

“With exposure?”

“Yes, with exposure,” he sneered. “That’s why we’re not trespassing. We’re giving you exposure by being here.”

“I have news for you,” Billie said. “You are still trespassing, and this place doesn’t need your exposure. Look around you. Do you think we need social media posts to advertise this?”

“Imagine where you’d be if we posted for you,” the young man said. “You would be overrun with people.”

Billie shook her head. “Because the beaches don’t sell this place well enough on their own,” she said. “Look. You have to go. I’m calling the police department right now. You’re welcome to return here tomorrow when we are open for the festival. Or don’t. Either way, I don’t care. Just leave now.”

“Just ignore her, Bianca,” the first young woman said.

“Yeah, you should know our names. I’m Bianca, that’s Willow and Sierra. And he’s Chad.”

“Okay,” Billie said. “Good to know, but again, I don’t care. It’s time for you guys to leave.”

“You’ll care when you find yourself tagged in our videos about how awful this place is,” Bianca said. She was dressed almost identically to the first girl, but her tanned face was framed by bouncy, dark brown curls. She had pink highlights at the tips.

“Mhmm,” Billie said, pointing them in the direction of the exit.

“Oh yeah, you’re gonna care,” Sierra said. “When Lara St. Vincent hears about how the people at this place were rude to people like us, she will ruin your business.”

“Who is this Lara person?” Billie asked. She rubbed her forehead with the heel of her hand. “Am I supposed to know who she is?”

“You ought to know,” Sierra said. “She’s the reason all of us are here.”

Billie gave up and walked away from the group, heading straight for her tiny house. It was possible Asher had retreated there. Although he had moved out to his small boat in the marina, his fifth wheel remained parked next to her tiny house on the far side of the festival grounds. Once in a while, he rented the fifth wheel out to passing tourists, but when it was empty, he was known to hang out there. Billie hoped to find a moment of peace for herself at home, even if it was just a few moments with Waffles inside his fenced enclosure. She needed space after the interaction with the Sheridan twins and the social media darlings. Most of all, she wanted to find Asher, especially after her interaction with Willow, Chad, Sierra, and Bianca. For all she cared, they could be cartoon ducks named Huey, Dewey, Louie, and Twit-For-Brains.

She also intended to make good on her threat to call the police and remove them and the hundred or so others from the grounds, but as soon as her house was in sight, she knew something was wrong.

“Is nothing sacred to you people?” she called out from about thirty feet away. More young people had gathered around her tiny house. Four girls perched on the front steps holding their cell phones away from them on two-foot long sticks.

Waffles had not been spared, either. Billie shooed away five others who had crowded themselves inside the doggie enclosure. One young man had squeezed inside the Doggie Palace. Billie pulled the gate open as fast as she could. “Get out,” she shouted. “Out! Out! Out!”

The one good thing about it all, is that Waffles appeared to be thrilled by the company. Two girls squatted on the ground next to him. One had placed her arms around the dog’s neck. She leaned forward and rested her head on top of his.

“Get away from my dog,” Billie said through gritted teeth.

“Why?” the girl asked. “I’m not hurting him. See? He likes it,” She spoke every word without breaking her smile.

“What is your name?” Billie asked the girl, ignoring the fact that she was right, Waffles was in his glory.

“Why do you want to know my name?” the girl asked her.

“So I know who to tell the police chief to file trespassing charges against when I call him,” Billie said.

“You have no right to call the police on her,” the young man inside Waffles’ dog house said. “Just don’t worry about her, Josey.”

“You just told her my name, you dope.”

“Like I said, Twit-For-Brains,” Billie mumbled under her breath. She pulled out her phone and tapped the screen.

“Are you going to call the cops on us now?” Josey asked her.

“Nope,” Billie said as she calmly snapped photos of her. She quickly turned her camera on each of them.

“Hey, you can’t do that,” another girl whined. “You aren’t allowed to take photos of us without our permission!”

“Too late,” Billie said. She quickly attached the photos to a text message to Phillip Abernathy, Sea Glass Island Chief of Police. “And now, the police chief has your photos along with a complaint from me, the property owner. Oh, and dude in the dog house, I’m going to give you one chance to get out of there.”

She didn’t have to repeat her threat. Instead, he shimmied himself out of the dog house and stood up. Billie snapped another photo of him and smiled. “Now I have your face. Get out of here right now and do not come back,” she said.

“What about the festival?”

“If I see any of your faces here again, I swear I will have you arrested on the spot,” Billie said. She pointed to the tiny house. “Do you all not understand that this is my home? I live here and this is not your property to just run over like a swarm of gnats. You don’t have any right to be here.”

“Who cares? We have a right to be anywhere we want to be.” Josey smirked.

“Based on what?” Billie asked. “What gives you the right to break the law and trespass here? I really want to know where you get your nerve.”

“Honey, this is our job,” Josey said. Her sickly sweet expression gave Billie the urge to clench her fist and pop her square in the nose.

“How is this your job? Unless you are in law enforcement, your job cannot give you the rights to someone else’s property,” Billie said. “And even then, there are rules.”

“We’re influencers, babe,” Josey said. “We can and we will go wherever we want to and there is nothing you can do to stop us.”

CHAPTER THREE

“We are happy to present you with the first of three ice cream collections from Scoops in Flight.” Polly Sheridan smiled as she pushed the small wood plank across the counter to Billie. Each plank had four circles cut out to accommodate a small glass ice cream dish.

“This looks incredible,” Billie said. She glanced sideways at Asher who stood next to her.

“What we have in this first flight is a vintage chocolate swirl, homemade vanilla, chocolate deep and dark, and a farm fresh strawberry flavor,” Liza said. She pointed to the row of dishes. “We call this The Old Stand By, our version of classic flavors.”

Billie dipped her spoon into the first dish. She held the spoon to her lips and slowly tasted. “Oh, wow,” she said and closed her eyes. At first, her mind was blank of the words to describe the creamy goodness of the vanilla and the deep flavor of the chocolate.

“This is not at all what I expected,” Asher said. “The first time I tried it, it was good, but this…”

“What were you expecting?” Liza interrupted.

“You know, I keep expecting to taste something like the ice cream in my freezer with chocolate syrup drizzled over it,” he said. “But you all have created something that tastes so much better than that. It’s like you took the homemade ice cream my grandpa used to churn on the front porch and mixed it with the gourmet chocolate my Aunt Dizzy used to bring back from her trips to Switzerland.”

Polly smiled and tapped her spoon on the edge of the counter. “That is one heck of a compliment right there, Mr. Scanlan,” she said. “Would you care to write that down for us?”

“She’s right,” Liza said. “That was pretty well stated.”

“Okay, okay,” Billie said. “Can we get back to the tasting? I’m ready for the next flight!”

Up next was a new round of dishes. Billie listened as Polly described the salted caramel, caramel apple, wine-poached pear, and coconut creme varieties. Her spoon immediately dug into the wine-poached pear. “I can’t believe how good this is,” she said, digging her spoon in again and again.

“Billie,” Asher said. “Are you going to take a second to try the other ice creams? Or, you know, breathe between bites? Jeez, have you not eaten in the past three days?”

“Sorry,” Billie said sheepishly. “I just really, really like this wine-poached pear. I’ve never had any ice cream that tastes so good.”

“So, how does this work?” Asher asked. “You guys have these recipes, and then you mix things up before you put it in the truck?”

Liza nodded her head. “When we’re going to be parked down there on the boardwalk, yes, to a degree,” she said. “We’ll mix everything up in the morning and have the dipping cabinets filled before we open up.”

“And through the day, the one who isn’t working the window will make more ice cream as we go,” Polly added.

“But when we run an event like this weekend, we will offer flights like you are trying out right now,” Liza said.

“What’s on the last flight?” Billie asked.

Polly smiled. “This last flight is what we call our Flight of Adventure,” she said. “Here you have our cold brew coffee custard, lavender and honey ice cream, boysenberry blue cheese ice cream, and mango-strawberry with balsamic vinegar sherbet.”

Asher frowned.

“Don’t knock it until you try it,” Billie told him before he had a chance to speak his mind.

“You first,” Asher said. He plunged his spoon into the last dish of the flight and pushed it toward her mouth.

She had to wait for the flavors to reveal themselves for a moment. The sweetness of the mango hit her first, followed by the sour vinegar and finally the sweet and tart strawberry. The flavors mixed and combined and shocked her. “I didn’t think I would like it,” she said, shaking her head. “But this is incredible. How on earth did you learn to put these flavors together?”

“I have to agree,” Asher said after he found enough courage to try it. “These flavors are combinations I would have never put together in an ice cream machine, but you guys really have made something special here.”

Billie nodded. “You know what it is? Part of what you’ve done here is create a rich creamy base that can sustain these flavors. I think it’s just like when you put a new chef in the kitchen in front of the stove. As long as they know the basics, have a good foundation, and won’t cut corners, you can trust them to experiment and follow their instincts.”

Polly and Liza looked at each other, then turned to Billie. “Does this mean we still have our jobs?”

Billie smiled. “I think you still have your jobs,” she said. “You work to keep your eyes on the goal, and everything will be fine.”

“And find a second apartment,” Liza said.

“Right.” Billie nodded. “That, too. I think it will make a huge difference. Great job to you both.” She left the two of them alone in the kitchen to celebrate.

“What was that all about?” Asher asked her as they walked toward his office.

“Let’s just say those two almost let sibling rivalry ruin their chances to manage a food truck,” she said.

“They’re both so young. I told them they needed to find separate living quarters, so they have some time apart.”

“Sounds like a wise thing to tell them,” he said. He looked out the window. “You know, I wonder if either of them would be interested in renting the fifth wheel.”

“I thought you were planning on selling it when Nolan gets a little further on your tiny house. If that’s true, you should really keep renters only on a short term basis.”

“Yeah, but I’m getting a little sick of dealing with it so often,” he said. “I think I would prefer to have one tenant, and if they stick around, I can get income from that to help pay for the house, and then maybe I wouldn’t need to sell it at all.”

“You probably need to make sure you don’t have a bunch of influencers squatting in it first,” Billie said with the roll of her eyes.

“Yeah, tell me about it,” he said.

“I was looking for you a little while ago. Where were you?”

“Trying to get the gate shut,” he said. “I called the chief about all of the people milling around here. I heard you contacted him as well.”

“I did,” she said. “After that, I noticed quite a few of them leaving, but I wonder if anyone is still running around out there?”

“Let’s go and have a look,” Asher said. “I think we should start around the RV hookups because now I’m worried one of them broke into my fifth wheel.”

“Deal,” Billie said. Inwardly, she wanted to rush out and check on Waffles again, but she would do that on her way by.

“I wonder what the next few days are going to be like if this afternoon is any indication,” Asher said as they headed outside.

“I don’t know,” Billie said. “But Chief Abernathy is here, so maybe that’s a good sign.” She spotted the familiar truck parked outside, close to the fleet of unimproved panel trucks that were still awaiting their turn to become transformed into another food truck.

“Wait, Billie,” Asher said. He held her back by her arm. “I’m not so sure that’s a good thing.”

“What do you mean?” Billie asked. “What can you see that I don’t?”

Asher sighed and released her arm. He pointed just beyond the chief’s truck at a vehicle Billie had not seen. “That’s the coroner’s van from the mainland,” he said. “I have a feeling the chief isn’t just here for crowd control.”

CHAPTER FOUR

“Of course, it had to be one of these social media people,” Chief Abernathy said. He shook his head and pointed toward the white sheet spread out on the sand off in the distance. “I just don’t get these folks and their phones. Who runs around snapping pictures of themselves in front of buildings or fire hydrants or whatever?”

“Do you know who that is under there?” Billie asked.

“Or how they died?” Asher asked.

“That’s a set of questions that I can’t really answer,” the chief said.

“We’re asking because this may impact the festival we have planned.”

“What is the event this weekend, anyway?” the chief asked. “I get the calendar each month when you send it over, but I don’t always memorize what is going on.”

Asher ran his hand through his hair. “This weekend is a charming little festival for social media influencers,” he said. “This is our first time hosting them.”

“Why on earth do social media influencers need a festival?” the chief asked.

Billie shrugged. “Probably so they can learn new ways to make nuisances out of themselves,” she said.

“You don’t sound very keen on them,” the chief said.

“I don’t have an issue with influencers in general, just these particular ones.”

Asher chuckled. “One of them called her a grandma,” he said.

“You hush,” Billie said.

“Billie, did this person make you angry?” the chief asked. He frowned when he looked at her. “I have to ask you that because the young woman under this sheet was the victim of a homicide.”

“She was murdered,” Asher said, stone-faced.

The chief nodded. “She was strangled with her own phone cord,” he said. “Now, I am not kidding. You had an interaction with a group of these social media people. That much I know, but I need you to tell me precisely what happened.”

Billie shuddered at the sight of the look on the chief’s face. “I met some of them outside the commissary kitchen,” she said.

“When was that?” the chief asked.

“Not that long ago,” Billie said. “Maybe half an hour before I texted you the photos of the people outside of my house.”

“I got your pictures and we have already checked them against the young woman under that sheet,” the chief said.

“There was a group I met earlier, halfway between the kitchen building and my house,” she said. “I was walking around looking for Asher when I got caught between them; a young guy, trying to take photos with three girls. They got mad at me and called me a grandma when I told them that they were trespassing.”

“What did they say when you told them they were trespassing?” Chief Abernathy asked.

“Just that it wasn’t trespassing because the festival was going to be here tomorrow. And they said they had every right to be here because there would be no festival without them,” she said.

“Anything else? Like names?”

“Yeah, they said their names.” Billie pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes. “If I remember right, it was Willow, Chad, Bianca, and one more.”

“It’s okay, Grandma,” Asher said. “Take your time remembering.”

Billie jabbed him hard with her elbow. “Sierra! That was the other name,” she said. “Oh, they also said they were doing all of the festival vendors a favor by providing exposure for their businesses and that they didn’t need to spend any money with them.”

“Did you see any of these four people threaten anyone or did anyone threaten them?” the chief asked.

“No,” Billie said. “The only other people out here were influencers like them and the group I caught in Waffles’ dog pen.”

“Well,” Chief Abernathy said slowly. “The young woman under that sheet has a name tag that says Bianca.”

“Oh, gosh.” Billie covered her mouth with her hand. “Do you think it is one of the same girls I spoke with? I have no idea if Bianca is a common name nowadays or not.”

He walked over to the sand where the sheet was draped over the body and spoke to another officer. A few minutes later, he returned. “Tell me what your Bianca looks like.”

Billie cringed at the wording he used. “Thin, tan, and kinda short, brown curly hair with pink in it. I think.”

By the look on his face, Billie knew right away that it was the young girl. “It’s the same person,” he said. “Can you repeat the names of the others who were with her? I’m also going to need you to come down to the station and give a description of each of them, even if it’s a basic idea of what they look like. We just hired two new detectives and one of them is a trained sketch artist.”

“Okay,” Billie said. She turned to Asher. “I don’t know if the outside cameras would have picked up anything or not.”

“I’ll go in and find out,” Asher said. He nodded to the chief and headed back toward the metal building.

“Chief, do you have any idea what happened or why?” she asked quietly. “She was just a girl running around with her cell phone taking photos and videos of herself for social media.”

Chief Abernathy pushed the hat up his head and looked at her. He stared at the white sheet for an extra-long moment and exhaled slowly. “I don’t have any idea why this happened to her,” he said. “I don’t even know her true identity. She didn’t have any identification on her and not one of the people around her would talk to me about who she is. I can’t get a lick of information out of one of them.”

“I’ll do whatever I can to help,” Billie offered.

“Let’s get you down to the station and we can go from there.”

“It shouldn’t be too hard to find her online,” Billie said. “I mean, if she has tagged the festival or her location or even the name of the island, we might be able to track her down.”

The chief brightened. “Is that a thing? Can you work with the detectives and figure out who she is? Let’s go right now and you can give your description to them, too.”

“I can try,” Billie said. “Let me stop by my house and pick up my laptop on the way. That way I can start the search while the detective makes the sketches.”

CHAPTER FIVE

Billie quickly poured a cup of food into Waffles’ food dish on her way out her door. She cradled her laptop against her chest and climbed up inside the chief’s pickup truck. He waited while she settled the computer in the space next to her and buckled her seat belt, then slowly drove around the festival grounds toward the exit.

“Can you look up that stuff online at the station?” the chief asked her as he drove. “I guess I should have asked you before you got that computer.”

Billie smiled. “The station has Wi-Fi, Chief,” she said. “I’ve logged into it before.”

“Okay,” he said. “I know that means the internet, I just wasn’t sure if your computer would work with it.”

“It will.” Billie nodded. She tried to smile to reassure him. She had logged her phone onto it before and she was sure the laptop would work out as well, but if she couldn’t log on she would simply use the hotspot on her cell phone. Of course, she would not even try to explain that to the chief. Not only was this a small town, but he wasn’t even remotely up to date on anything technology related.

When they arrived, Billie followed the chief up the long steps into the island police station and waited in the small lobby while he fetched one of the two new detectives. She stood for a second and waited for the chief to return. After a few minutes, she took a seat and opened her laptop to connect to the station’s visitor’s Wi-Fi.

“Billie, this is Detective Sarah Sullivan,” the chief said above her. Billie looked up and smiled automatically at the woman standing next to him.

“Nice to meet you, Detective,” Billie said. She shifted her laptop to her left arm and extended her right hand.

“Billie,” Detective Sullivan said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t catch your last name.”

“Halifax, Billie Halifax.”

“Well, I’ll leave the two of you to it,” the chief said. “When you’re finished with the sketches, let me know what you find online about the young woman, Billie.” He walked toward his office and left the two women alone together. Billie turned and smiled nervously at the detective. She was older than her, likely in her late forties and was dressed in an open collar cream colored blouse under a navy blue pantsuit. Her brown hair was pulled back in a knot at the base of her neck. She stuck out like a sore thumb.

“What are you doing for the chief?” she asked.

“I’m going to try to find the victim’s online presence,” Billie said. “You know, look for hashtags from this weekend’s upcoming festival and so on.”

Detective Sullivan cocked her head to the side. “He’s having a suspect look up information about the victim? Is that how things work around here?”

Billie felt her stomach lurch. “A suspect? I’m a suspect?”

“Follow me,” Detective Sullivan ordered her. She walked through the lobby and down a hall toward the back of the building. Billie was relieved she didn’t head up the steps after the chief. Despite the time she’d spent walking in sand and running on the beach, her legs still hurt when she had to run up the steps to the police station.

“Have a seat over there,” Detective Sullivan ordered.

Billie took a seat on the other side of the large desk in the center of the small office. She placed her laptop on the seat next to her and waited for the detective to get settled in at her desk. Her thoughts buzzed while she waited.

“Why did you call me a suspect?” she blurted out at last, when she couldn’t take the tension any longer.

“Aren’t you a suspect?” Detective Sullivan asked her.

“No! I should not be a suspect,” she said. “Not at all.”

“Well, here you are helping with the investigation.”

“I’ve helped in investigations before,” Billie said. “And I’m here because I met Bianca earlier today and the three others she was with. The chief doesn’t really get social media and how hashtags work and all of that.”

“How have you helped in the past? Tell me about that,” the detective said.

Billie bit her bottom lip. “You’ll have to ask Chief Abernathy,” she said.

The detective stared at her for a long moment. “Fair enough,” she said. “What color was the hair of the first person you spoke with among Bianca’s companions?”

“Blonde,” Billie said quickly. “She had hair almost down to her waist.”

“Did you like these young people when you met them?” the detective asked.

“Not necessarily,” she said. “They were trespassing and completely and utterly unaware of why it was a problem.”

“What color was the male’s hair?”

“Dark brown, long,” Billie said. “It hung in his eyes.”

“Why do you care about this case?” the detective asked.

“Because someone died,” Billie said. “Someone passed away in a terrible manner and I’m sure there are people who care about her who now have to live with her death.”

“Tell me an actor the male reminded you of.”

“A young Leonardo DiCaprio,” Billie answered. “Besides that, the body was found on my festival grounds. That alone makes me concerned enough to want to help.”

“The blonde, tell me who she looked like.”

“Jennifer Lawrence,” Billie said. “Taller though.”

“What was the male with Bianca wearing, can you remember?”

“Umm, something dark. Maybe a red or orange word on it. I don’t remember. All I know is that he was dressed down compared to the rest of them.”

“Did you speak with anyone else aside from these people?” the detective asked her.

“There was also another group of influencers who had invaded my dog’s pen when I went to my house.”

“Any names?”

“Only one,” Billie said, wondering why she was alternating situations and asking questions so randomly. “Josey. I sent those photos to the chief.”

“These were the people in the dog house?” Detective Sullivan asked her. “They were all inside?”

“Only one, a male,” Billie said.

“Who did the last woman look like with Bianca? What color was her hair?”

“Black hair and she reminded me of Zoe Saldana,” Billie said. “She was thinner than the other ones, and she had long hair, too.”

“What is the name of your dog?” Detective Sullivan asked her.

“Waffles,” Billie answered.

“And he used to belong to a murder victim unrelated to this particular case. Is that correct?”

Billie nodded her head slowly. “Travis Woodson,” she said. “He was killed a little while back.”

“Were the two of you involved?” the detective asked.

“No, no,” Billie said. “In fact, his former girlfriend works for me now as a Sous chef in the barbecue food truck. Her name is Olivia Mason, and she is a wonderful cook.”

“Were you part of that investigation?” Detective Sullivan asked her.

“I was,” Billie said.

“What about the first three truck managers you hired?” the detective asked her. “Were you involved there as well?”

Billie nodded her head. “Of course, I was,” she said. “I found the body. The two others were candidates for the job as well. They were basically auditioning for the job. The evidence came from interaction with them.”

“Okay.” After some time, and several more questions about the appearances of the influencers, including what they were wearing, Detective Sullivan picked up several sheets of paper from her desk. “Do these folks look familiar to you?” She turned around three separate pieces of paper. Each one resembled the people she had seen on the beach earlier in the day. The sketches were not a perfect likeness, but she could not believe how close she’d gotten.

“How did you do that?” Billie asked. “These sketches look a whole lot like the people I met earlier.”

“It’s a technique I learned in college,” the detective said. “While we spoke, I asked you a lot of disarming questions to keep you focused on other things. When you answered, you did so automatically. It helps prevent overthinking. The human brain tends to make things harder than it has to be.”

“So, you don’t think I was involved with Bianca’s death?”

“Of course, you could be,” Detective Sullivan said. “But I don’t actually think you’re a part of it. In fact, the food truck managers you just hired gave you a pretty decent alibi.”

“So, you met the twins?”

“How is that going?” the detective asked her with a curl of her lip.

Billie laughed nervously before she answered. Was the detective just playing with her, or were they really going to engage in small talk? “They are twin sisters who live together and work together. It’s not always sunny.”

“I bet not,” the detective said. “What are you doing to help them get along better?”

“I told them they needed to live apart,” Billie said. She was still a little unsure about her conversation with the detective.

“That sounds like an incredible idea,” Detective Sullivan said. She stood up from her desk and picked up the sketches. “I need to get these up to the chief. Why don’t you move into the room across the hall. I’ll be back in a little while.”

“Thank you,” Billie said. She gathered her things and left the detective’s office. When she was settled into the small, nearly empty room across the hall, she pulled her laptop into her lap and opened the lid.

She began searching for any hashtags she could think of that might have to do with the festival. “Sea Glass Island, Florida festival, Bianca Sea Glass Island, Bianca influencer,” she typed.

When her search turned up nothing, Billie started again by typing all four names into her search engine. “Bingo,” she said when an account popped up with the faces of all four in a single photo. Billie clicked on the photo and followed the link to the account the photo had been posted on. She hovered over the photo, hopeful that the picture had tagged the individuals in it but wasn’t able to find anything worthwhile. There were several hashtags, but nothing that linked back to an individual person. She thought that was odd, considering how most influencers would want the attention on them and not just a random account.

It was obvious Detective Sullivan didn’t appreciate Billie helping, and she could understand that. It wasn’t how things were usually done, and in a lot of cases, it might not follow procedure, but until the detective arrived, there wasn’t a whole lot of experience with this sort of thing. Things changed, and Billie knew that, but for now, until they kicked her out, she was going to do what she could to help.

CHAPTER SIX

“I have a name for you,” Billie announced to Chief Abernathy when she knocked on his door thirty minutes later. She held her open laptop in her hands.

“You found Bianca’s name?” The chief rose from his seat and smiled.

“Not her name, but I did find a photo of the four of them together. Their photo appeared on the account of a man named Clint Abbott from Pocatello, Idaho.” She turned the screen toward him. “I don’t have any idea who he is or what the relationship is, but I wanted to get the name to you as soon as possible.”

“How do I find this information on my own computer?” the chief asked her.

“I’ll send you a link,” Billie said.

“Is that all?” the chief asked. “Is there anything else you can still look for?”

“Oh, yeah,” Billie said, nodding her head. “I just wanted to let you know this name as soon as possible. I’ll run back downstairs and see what else I can find.”

“You can go back home and send him the information if you want to,” Detective Sullivan came into the office and said. “Is that okay with you, Chief? I’m sure Ms. Halifax would like to get back to her own surroundings.”

“Is that alright, Billie?” the chief asked.

Billie nodded. “I would love to go home. I still don’t know if we have a festival starting in the morning, or if it has been canceled, though.”

“I hope it hasn’t been canceled,” Detective Sullivan said.

“Why is that, Sullivan?” the chief asked. “Are you a social media influencer now?”

Billie smiled and dropped her head so the detective wouldn’t notice her grin.

“I am nothing of the kind, Chief,” the detective said. “But I do hope the festival moves forward because there is no better way than that to get a good look at the people who might be involved with this. I mean, we can already assume there’ll be a number of vendors who will pull out of the event in light of the murder, and a number of attendees who will go home.”

“Don’t be so sure of that,” Asher said from the office doorway.

“Asher! When did you get here?” Billie turned around.

“I just got here,” Asher said. “I wanted to see if you needed a ride home, and to let you know that the onlookers are already descending on the crime scene.”

“Is this a party or something?” Detective Sullivan asked.

The chief looked at her but quickly turned his attention back to Asher. “What do you mean they are descending on the crime scene? We hastened our investigation to make sure there was no crime scene left behind.”

“Do you think that was enough time to do a thorough forensic investigation?” Detective Sullivan asked.

“Yes, Detective,” the chief said. He turned to Asher again. “Are you going forward with the event?”

“I’d love to move forward,” he said. “Unless you or the county sheriff officially call it off. The contract with the main vendor stipulates that I have to move forward with the festival unless there is an act of God or law enforcement interferes.”

“I don’t want you to cancel,” the chief said. He nodded toward the detective. “Detective Sullivan here thinks that will be our best shot to catch the killer.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Asher asked. “Like I said when I came in here, there were already groups of people coming in to take photos where the body was discovered.”

“Who even are you?” Detective Sullivan asked Asher. “And where were you earlier this afternoon?”

“He was with me when I was with the Sheridan twins. They’re his alibi too,” she said, already knowing where the detective was going.

“I would like to hear it from him,” the detective said.

“She’s telling you the truth,” Asher said. “And as for who I am, I’m Asher Scanlan. I’m the owner of the commissary kitchen and the festival grounds where it’s located.”

“Co-owner,” Billie said.

“Yeah, what she said.” Asher winked at Billie.

“Are you two a couple?” Detective Sullivan asked.

“Yes, they are a couple,” Chief Abernathy answered for them. “And if you ask me, he leveled up. No offense to you, Asher.”

“None taken, sir.” Asher grinned. “We both know you’re right about that.”

“We met when I moved to Sea Glass Island to take over the business my late grandmother left to me,” Billie said.

“Including the commissary kitchen and these festival grounds?”

“Including that,” Billie said.

“And about a dozen old panel trucks and the money to turn them into food trucks, one at a time,” Asher added.

“What do you have so far?” Detective Sullivan asked her.

“Oh, I can tell you that,” Chief Abernathy said. “She has the best taco truck, this amazing wood-fire pizza truck, a sushi truck, a cupcake truck.”

“It’s actually a bakery mousse truck,” Billie corrected. “But cupcakes are the easiest way to deliver mousse in a bakery setting.”

“Is that all?” the chief asked. “Did I miss one?”

Billie nodded with a smile. “The barbecue truck and we also just added an old fashioned gourmet ice cream truck.”

The chief’s eyes widened. “Ahh, how could I forget that delicious brisket?”

“Chief, what should they do about the onlookers coming to take advantage of the crime scene?” Detective Sullivan asked, pulling them back into a discussion about the murder. It appeared she liked to lead the pack.

“Well, Detective, I would rather ask you what you think,” the chief said. “You’re the one who said you think the event ought to remain open so we can keep an eye out for anyone who might be the killer.”

Detective Sullivan sighed and walked across the office to peer out the large picture window at the water. “In my opinion, you let them come, as sacrilegious as that sounds,” she said. “If you have any way to record video of the traffic to the crime scene, do that, but don’t stop them from coming and don’t say anything about them taking their photos.”

“Okay, we can do that,” Asher said. “I think I can turn one of the cameras to focus directly on the site.”

“That sounds like a good plan to me,” the chief said.

“And what about you, Billie? What do you think about this? Is it okay with you?” Detective Sullivan asked.

Billie forced a smile. It seemed that she was the only one in the group to notice the snark oozing from the detective. “I think whatever you and the chief decide to do is what’s best.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

Billie rode the short distance back to the festival grounds. As expected, around three dozen people were gathered beneath the parking lot lights that surrounded the commissary kitchen building and dotted the rest of the festival grounds. As she walked toward the kitchen, she watched in horror as they held up their cameras and took photos of themselves over the area in the sand still marked where the body had been found.

“I think the twins are still inside cleaning up,” Asher said. “I’ll be out here for a little while moving the camera to focus on the area.”

“What are you going to tell them if they ask you what you’re doing?” Billie asked.

“As if they’ll even look up from their cameras long enough to take any notice of me,” Asher said. “But if they do, I’ll just tell them that I’m changing the battery before the festival in the morning.”

“Okay,” Billie said. “I’m going to lock up my office and head home. Are you spending the night here or on the boat?”

“I think I’ll stick around here tonight,” Asher said. “But I’m going to offer one of the twins the fifth wheel as a rental.”

“You are?” Polly walked out ahead of her sister. “Are you really going to rent to one of us?”

Asher nodded. “That was my thought,” he said. “But I do plan to sleep there tonight. With everything going on I don’t want to be too far from this place.”

“Or from Billie,” Liza added.

“Right, or from Billie,” Asher said, blushing wildly.

“It’s okay,” Polly said. “I think we can handle being together for another night without killing each other.”

“You might be careful how you word things right now,” Asher said. He glanced over his shoulder at the people still snapping photos at the death scene.

“Right,” Liza said. “Besides, we still have to figure out which one of us is going to stay in our apartment and which is going to move here.”

“I thought we already had that discussion,” Polly said as they began to walk away.

“Oh, jeez.” Asher laughed.

“I have a feeling they’re going to be a fun pair to work with,” Billie said.

“Anyway, I think I’ll do a quick walk-through of the kitchen space just to make sure everything looks good inside,” Billie said.

“Don’t lock up yet,” Asher said. “I want to check the cameras out before I head in for the night. Are you going to be up for a while?”

Billie smiled. “Yeah, I’ll be up for a while,” she said. “I want to look for more information about Bianca, if I can find anything.”

“So, if I knock on your door a little later, that would be okay?” Asher said.

“Of course, it will be okay,” Billie said. She lowered her eyes and flirted shamelessly. “I’m pretty sure Waffles will be happy to see you.”

“Waffles? Not you?”

“Well, that you will have to wait and see,” she said and headed the rest of the way inside. She left Asher staring at her as she headed in. She thought his move to the boat was going to hinder their relationship, but it had done the exact opposite. Things were going so well between them.

The aroma of sweet ice cream still hung in the air when she walked down the hall and into the middle of the kitchen space. She walked around both test kitchen spaces the Sheridan twins had used to make their ice cream. She found both places spotless, worthy of a white glove inspection. Billie smiled and thought of the prep work they must have done for the coming day and the debut of the ice cream truck. Surely they had placed all of their work in one of the coolers.

Billie headed straight for the walk-in freezer and flipped on the light. An entire shelf had been filled with the ice cream they had already made. She noticed a small dish right in line with her view. She walked forward and found the small dish with a note taped to the top.

“Wine-poached pear ice cream,” Billie read with a smile. “Thanks for the second chance, Boss.” The note was signed by both twins. She picked up the dish and headed back toward the kitchen turning off most of the lights on her way out. She waved at Asher when she exited. He was still up on his ladder readjusting the camera angle.

The group of influencers still gathered around the crime scene. She knew they knew what they were doing, but Billie found herself hoping the detective and the chief were correct and the scene had already been properly processed. Because if it hadn’t, or if investigators had missed anything, any remaining evidence had surely been contaminated.

Billie hugged her laptop to her chest as she made her way back home. Lucky for her, the area around her house was clear of any unwelcome visitors. Billie unlocked her front door and looked around inside before she let out her breath or set her laptop down. If the idiots could break into her dog’s dog house, it might not be above any of them to break into her house.

As soon as she was sure the place was empty, she put the ice cream in her freezer and disappeared to her room to change into more comfortable clothes. She tied her hair back into a low ponytail on her way back into the living room and picked up her laptop and brought it to her seat with her.

Immediately, she returned to her search of Bianca and the hashtags that might be related to her, or the event. She had not had much luck back at the police station, but her hope was that more people had posted something that might lead to any clue about the young woman’s identity.

Billie decided to open up each major social media platform and searched for Bianca that way. She entered her name followed by “Sea Glass Island Festival.” She scanned the posts that came up and looked at the pictures as closely as she could. An hour passed by before Billie set her laptop to the side and opened her front door to look for Asher.

“Sorry it took me a little while,” Asher said as he rushed up the steps. “I was trying my hardest to get the best view of the area that I could. It took a little while.”

“Are you hungry?”

“Why, what do you have?” Asher asked. “I saw you carrying something back here.”

Billie grinned. “The twins left me some ice cream.”

“Let me guess,” Asher said, leaning in her doorway. “Wine-poached pear flavor.”

“They left enough for two,” Billie sang.

“Perfect,” Asher said. He leaned in and kissed her.

“Help! Help me!”

Asher pulled back from Billie and turned around. She looked past him for the source of the screams. She could see a few people gathering around. For once they seemed to be focused on something other than themselves or their phone screens.

“I have to put my shoes on,” she announced to Asher, who was already down the steps and running toward the screams. Billie turned back inside and found a pair of huaraches closest to the door. She slipped her feet inside the shoes and grabbed her phone off of the counter before she headed out the door, terrified at the thought of what they might find.

CHAPTER EIGHT

“Who is that?” Billie asked. She stood over a motionless young woman lying in the sand. She turned away and placed the phone on her ear. “Detective Sullivan?”

“Who is this?” the detective’s raspy voice answered.

“Billie Halifax,” she said. “I got your number from the chief. I think you better get down here. There’s another girl down here.”

“Dead?”

Billie looked over the body once again. “It’s hard to tell in the dark, but yes, I think so.”

“Have you checked?”

“No, I was trying to keep the crowd back. Someone else checked and said she wasn’t breathing,” Billie said. “An ambulance is on the way, and Asher and I are trying to keep these people from taking selfies with her.”

“I need you to do that, Billie,” Detective Sullivan said.

“You want me to take a selfie with a dead body?” Billie whispered into the phone. “I can’t do that, Detective. I won’t do that.”

“Good grief. No, I don’t want you to take a selfie with her,” the detective said. “I want you to take out your cell phone and start taking photos. Take pictures of her. When you snap as many of her as you can, start taking photos of everyone around there. Do your best to keep everyone away and I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“I can ask Asher to help with the photos of everyone else,” Billie said.

“Just don’t stop until I get there. This is important.”

Billie ended the phone call and opened her camera app. She leaned over the body and snapped a photo of the girl’s face, doing her best not to look too closely. She briefly checked the image on her screen and then moved around and took several more shots. She had to check the shots from time to time; it was difficult for her to concentrate, and she was starting to panic.

When she was finished, she stood up and turned on her video camera. She scanned the crowd that was still pressing in around the girl’s body.

“People, get back,” Asher said. “Are you all stupid? Surely you know this is a crime scene and you are all possibly contaminating it.”

“Then what are you doing, idiot?” The question came from a young man standing at the feet of the body.

“I’m the owner of this place,” he said. “Along with her.” He pointed to Billie.

“And we’re waiting for the police to arrive,” Billie said.

“The police are here,” Detective Sullivan called out from behind them. “And every last one of you is under arrest right now.”

Not one of the young influencers stuck around for long after she made the announcement. As the crowd scattered, the detective directed two officers in sterile gloves to begin processing the scene. Billie stood back as one of them set up an outdoor light over the area.

“I think I know her,” Billie said as soon as the area was illuminated.

“You do?” Asher asked her.

“Yeah,” Billie said. She stepped in for a closer look. “I didn’t really look too long or too hard at the photos I took for you, Detective, but I think that might be the young girl named Josey who was in the dog pen with Waffles.”

“Are you sure?” Detective Sullivan asked her. She stood next to Billie and regarded the girl.

Billie nodded her head. “Check the photos I sent the chief earlier today,” she said. “I know I got a few photos of her, and it looks a lot like her.”

“Detective,” Asher said. “This festival is supposed to begin soon. Is this enough to cancel it? Because two dead young women in less than twelve hours sure sounds like a disaster waiting to happen to me.”

Detective Sullivan placed her hands on her hips and nodded slowly. “I don’t think we have a choice now,” she said. “Excuse me for a moment.” She stepped away to dial and spoke on the phone for less than a minute before she returned.

“The chief is twenty seconds out and has ordered me to shut down the place.”

“By place, do you mean the commissary kitchen as well? Because I have food truck managers who use it daily for prep,” Billie said.

Detective Sullivan nodded her head. “You get me the names and photos of your managers and I’ll make sure they’re allowed inside the grounds. Otherwise, nobody leaves or enters until I have gone over every last inch of this space.”

“Wait,” a young woman from the crowd still gathered around them said. She held her phone up in front of her face as she spoke. Billie was unsure if she was recording herself speaking or the detective. “You’re shutting this place down? So, no festival tomorrow?” While most of the crowd had already dispersed, a few dedicated onlookers remained.

“That’s what I said,” Detective Sullivan replied.

“But you can’t do that. You can’t shut the festival down.”

“No way!” Another shout came from behind the first girl. “We still have our rights. A lot of us came from a long way away to be here for this and you can’t just go closing everything down.”

“You may have come a long way to be here, but we have had two girls murdered less than a few hundred feet from each other in less than twelve hours,” Detective Sullivan said. Her voice registered fatigue and disgust. “So, you want to tell me about your rights? How does this infringe on your rights?”

“Freedom of speech. Freedom to assemble.” The shouts came from behind the first girl who spoke.

“Freedom of entrepreneurship. Freedom of the press,” another girl stepped forward and said.

“There is no such thing as ‘freedom of entrepreneurship,’” Detective Sullivan said as she knelt down next to the body.

“How do you know?”

“Because I studied law in college,” the detective said.

“Well, what about the freedom of the press?”

“Are you a reporter?” the detective asked.

“Not exactly, but we all have cameras and therefore have the right to be here no matter what the cops say,” the girl said.

“No, you don’t,” Detective Sullivan said. She looked past the crowd at the chief of police as he approached.

“Every one of you is a witness or a suspect,” Chief Abernathy grumbled and pushed through the crowd.

Billie noticed another dozen or so officers falling in line behind him. “I’ve called in help from the sheriff’s department on the mainland, and as you can see they sent word almost immediately that we needed some crowd control.” He more or less was speaking to the detective.

“Good plan, Chief,” Detective Sullivan said. She turned to Billie. “Have you sent me those photos yet?”

Billie nodded. “There is a video as well,” she said and held her phone up. “It’s sending now.”

“Chief, can you have your folks talk to me first, if they’re going to?” Asher asked. “I have about two dozen phone calls to make to vendors since the festival is getting shut down.”

“Don’t shut it down!”

Chief Abernathy ignored the shout from the crowd and nodded at one of the unformed deputies behind him. “Come on and take a witness statement from this man here,” he instructed. “His name is Asher Scanlan, and he owns this place.”

“Along with her,” Detective Sullivan added, nodding at Billie.

“Right, along with her.” The chief sighed.

“Come on,” the deputy instructed Asher. They stood a little ways from the crowd to talk.

“Don’t shut it down! Don’t shut it down!” The words came from the crowd as a whisper at first, then swelled quickly into a full-fledged chant. Billie wanted to cover her ears with her hands and drown out their voices.

“Every one of you better knock that off,” Chief Abernathy shouted. “Or the next person to go to jail will be charged with everything and the kitchen sink! Have some respect!”

CHAPTER NINE

Billie watched as Asher finished his conversation with the sheriff’s deputy. He nodded at her before he headed into the commissary kitchen building to start the arduous task of reaching out to the vendors who planned to arrive the following morning. A few had already arrived at the festival grounds since their setups would be less involved than in traditional festivals.

Billie made sure she sent all of the photos to the detective’s phone. She waited while the chief took the time to walk the entire perimeter of the festival grounds. He wanted to place a uniformed officer at each entrance and exit, but it was difficult to see everywhere people could come and go in the dark.

After the photos were sent, Billie used her phone to send a group text to the members of her food truck family. She instructed each of the food truck managers to be ready to show their identification when they entered early the next morning while law enforcement waited for the sun to come up. Billie heard the detective discuss her plans with the chief to return to the police station and run facial recognition software to try and identify the onlookers from the photos she had provided.

The conversation sparked an idea in Billie. She approached the detective and waited for the conversation with the chief to end.

“Yes, Ms. Halifax,” the detective said. Her tone left Billie wondering if she was still a potential suspect, or if the detective just had a terrible bedside manner when she was stressed out.

“I’ve reached out to each of my food truck managers,” Billie said. “I will send a photo and name of each of them to you so you can identify them quickly.”

“Okay, is there something else?” the detective asked.

“I also wanted to let you know that I plan to return to my home now,” Billie said, slightly irritated at the detective’s tone. “And in case you didn’t know, I live in a tiny house over there on the other side of the grounds under those trees. There’s a fifth wheel there as well and that’s where Asher will be tonight.”

“I saw what looked like an enclosed horse trailer,” the detective said. “Is that your place?”

Billie nodded. “That’s the one,” she said. “If you want a good look at the spot where I saw Josey and her other friends, there’s an enclosure by my house. You can’t miss the dog palace.”

“What is a dog palace exactly?”

Billie opened her phone’s photo gallery and showed the detective a photo of the large dog house and the resident. “That is a dog palace, and this is Waffles. He’s friendly despite how he looks. Bring him a treat and he will love you forever.” She smiled.

“Noted,” Detective Sullivan said dryly. “Thank you for the heads up.” She turned her back to Billie.

“Good night, Chief,” Billie said.

“Night, Billie,” the chief said.

Billie texted Asher that she was headed back to her house. She searched for a pocket to stuff her phone into and remembered for the first time that she was dressed in her lazy, at home clothes. She walked a little faster across the sand, looking back when she heard the sound of an engine. The coroner’s van had arrived at last.

Waffles barked excitedly when she arrived home. Billie unlocked the door to her house and grabbed a handful of the dog’s favorite treats and threw them over the fence to him. She walked around the entire outside of her house just to make sure there were no social media influencers waiting in the shadows to climb back into the dog palace when she went inside.

Once she was back inside, she locked the door behind her and kicked off her sandals. She left them next to the front door for quick access in case she had to run back out again. Before she settled onto the couch, she decided to brew a cup of tea to help settle her nerves. She was overly tired and stressed out from the loss of two people right under her nose.

After the water heated up, Billie plopped a tea bag into her favorite mug and took a seat. The thought of her gourmet wine and pear flavored ice cream crossed her mind, but she couldn’t bring herself to get up to retrieve it. She was no longer in the mood for the cold and sweet treat.

A thought had occurred to her on the walk back from the crime scene. She took out her phone and began sending the photos she had taken to her email address, then downloaded them onto her laptop hard drive. She included both the photos she had taken earlier in the afternoon and those from the crime scene still active several hundred feet from where she was sitting.

As soon as the photos downloaded, Billie opened up a search engine. She wished she had a picture of Bianca, but instead she went back the account she’d found earlier, in hopes she’d be able to come across a photo of her or someone attached to her in some way. After what felt like hours of research, she finally found someone who resembled Bianca, minus the pink highlights in her hair. To her surprise, she was able to run a reverse image search on the girl with success.

“Bingo,” she said when a social media profile of the younger woman appeared. “Sort of.”

Billie quickly sent the link to the detective’s phone along with a text message. “I think I found the identity of the first victim,” she wrote. “Her name appears to be April Bianca Kingston.”

“Thanks,” the detective wrote back. “We know.”

Billie supposed she wasn’t surprised that they’d learned the identity of the first victim, but somehow, she found herself wondering how long they’d known and why they hadn’t told her yet. She decided to enter the photos from the group of people that had gathered around her home. She began with Josey’s photo and waded through a few of the results. At first, she came up with nothing definitive. She looked a little closer at the photo. The image was slightly grainy. Maybe that was why the reverse image didn’t work.

She looked over several other photos of the group inside Waffles’ enclosure. She found a clearer picture of Josey with the others and cropped the photo down to her face. When she had saved the image, she put it through the reverse image search once more and hit on another profile.

“Josey Hennessy,” Billie said out loud. She wasn’t sure if she should text the detective or not. If they already knew who Bianca was, it was possible they knew even more than they were letting on. She couldn’t be upset about it since she knew the detective wasn’t a huge fan of her being part of things as it was.

She sighed and knew the right thing to do was tell Detective Sullivan. She sent the text and immediately received one back.

“Good job,” Detective Sullivan wrote back. “That’s two.”

“Should I keep going or do you already have it under control?” Billie wrote back.

“Carry on,” the detective responded. “I’m beginning to worry that we’re going to have more of this happening.”

Billie put her phone down and stood up. She walked around her small living room with her arms over her head. More? Did she mean a serial killer or something? What had made the detective jump to that conclusion, or was she the one jumping?

CHAPTER TEN

She jumped literally when she heard a knock at her door. “It’s me,” Asher said through the locked door. Billie put her hands down and unlocked the door for him. “You look like you just lost your best friend.”

“I just found the last name of the second victim,” Billie said. “When I sent it to Sullivan she said something that freaked me out a little. What if more people are going to be killed? What if this is a serial killer?”

“You didn’t wonder about that before she said something?” Asher asked.

“I mean, I guess,” Billie said. “There have been other crimes committed since I moved here but there has typically been a reason behind everything.”

“Like the first three food truck managers,” Asher said.

“Yeah, and even the guy they found dead in the fishing net,” Billie replied. “I’m not saying there was a good reason those people were killed, but there was a reason behind it, a motive, I guess.”

“And if we have a serial killer on the loose, that means the killings were random and unexplained.”

“Pretty much,” Billie said. “And I don’t like the sound of that at all. Something tells me, though, that these killings aren’t random.”

“Did you try that ice cream the twins left behind for you?” Asher asked her a few minutes later.

Billie shook her head. “No, I made myself some tea. Ice cream just doesn’t sound good right now,” she said.

“You really are worried if you’re turning down ice cream,” Asher said. “Especially ice cream made with wine.”

“I am worried,” Billie admitted. “For one thing, someone running around randomly killing people out in the open makes me sick to my stomach. I mean, as much as these stupid influencer people drive me crazy, I don’t want any of them to die.”

“You know, I wonder how many other festivals like this go on each year,” he asked.

Billie shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“I’ve been in the event business for some time, and this is the first ‘influencer fest’ I have ever heard of that takes place in a small town.”

“Maybe it’s a new thing,” Billie said. “Maybe there haven’t been very many others before.”

“I think there have been, but in places like New York City and Milan,” Asher said. “At least, the organizers who set this up with me spoke of this event like it is some sort of holy grail that will change the island forever.”

“I guess it has, but in all the wrong ways,” Billie said. “Who organized this anyway? I heard some of the influencers mention a woman, like she was the reason all of them were here.”

Asher thought for a moment. “The only people I spoke with were brand names, no specific individuals,” he said. “I think the major sponsors were makeup brands and some clothing labels. Oh, and there was a cellphone company who paid a lot of fees for some of the other vendors who came.”

“So, there wasn’t just one central organizer?” Billie asked him.

Asher shook his head. “No, and that’s pretty unusual,” he said. “But it isn’t unheard of, either.”

Billie walked back to the couch and sat down. She pulled her laptop into her lap and opened it up. “I wonder how many other events have been organized like this,” she said. “It’s so weird. I looked and I looked for a hashtag related to this influencer festival or a location tag for the island for this weekend.”

“And you couldn’t find anything? That seems weird since they all claim they were going to have such an effect on us with their influence.”

“I couldn’t find a thing,” Billie admitted. “Maybe I don’t have the right terms for this. What was the actual name of the festival? I haven’t seen a bit of literature or a sign for it anywhere other than what you told me about it.”

“There wasn’t a whole lot, honestly,” Asher said. “They just told me that word would get out and that I’d have nothing to worry about.”

“Maybe there’s something more to this than meets the eye,” Billie said. She turned back to her laptop and started searching for marketing festivals or makeup events, anything she could think to search.

“Hey, out of curiosity, what was the name of that woman you said those kids mentioned before? Maybe she’s a vendor or sponsor or something.”

“Oh, shoot,” Billie said, looking up from her computer screen. “Let me think. Laura? Or Lori?”

“You don’t remember?”

“No, I do,” Billie insisted. “It’s on the tip of my tongue.”

“What exactly did they say about her? Is she the organizer of their group or what?” Asher asked.

Billie shook her head. “I’m not really sure, but if this Lori or Laura person was the organizer, wouldn’t we have heard of her before now? Or at least seen her name among the major vendors?”

“Yeah, you would think so, and that’s why I’m asking,” Asher said. “You know, before I came back here, I passed by the detective and the chief talking. They were both saying how lost they were with this case. It’s like, there are so few clues here.”

“It’s very weird to me how these people just show up at the same place at the same time and expect something to happen,” Billie said. “They aren’t being paid to be here, they don’t plan on spending money here, either. So, what exactly is the point of them coming? How does it benefit them?”

Asher nodded. “I don’t think it would get them any attention if they aren’t actually doing any posting. But maybe they’re just waiting for the actual festival to start? Like I said, I really have no idea how any of this works.”

“It’s almost like they are thinking with one collective brain, and they just know where everybody else is going to be. All of this seems so strange to me, but I’m so far from an influencer that it isn’t even funny.”

“One collective brain,” Asher repeated and then laughed. “I could believe that if we were talking about a Star Trek convention.” He looked up at Billie who was not smiling at all. “You know, a collective? The Hive Mind? As in The Borg?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Billie said. “And I am more than a little disturbed that this is the first time I have seen your nerd side showing so much.”

“I am not a nerd,” Asher said.

“Are you a Trekkie?”

His face reddened slightly. “Yeah, a little bit,” he said.

“Terrific. I’m falling in love with a nerd,” Billie said.

Asher rushed toward her and grabbed her up in a swift and crushing hug. “You just said the magic words,” he said, nuzzling her neck.

“That you’re a nerd?” Billie asked, pushing him away a couple of inches.

“No! You just admitted that you’re in love with me,” Asher said.

“You’re grinning like you just heard the best news of your life,” Billie said, laughing. “And I didn’t say I was in love with you. I just said I am falling in love with you.”

“Close enough,” Asher said. He picked her up and swung her around. He set her back down after a long kiss. Billie smiled up at him, then rose up on the tips of her toes and squealed. “Lara St. Vincent!” She tapped his shoulder numerous times.

“Come again?” Asher asked.

“That’s the name of the person those influencers mentioned to me,” Billie said. “Lara St. Vincent. When they mentioned her, it almost sounded like a threat.”

“A threat? How so?”

“Just that they were going to tattle on me to this person. One of them also said something about a bad review, I don’t know,” Billie said with a shrug. “I get a bad review, but I have no idea who the heck this Lara person is and why I would even care what she thinks about me or this place.”

“Look her up online,” Asher suggested. “It’s what you do best. The internet is such a crazy place.”

Billie released him and picked up her laptop again. She sat down on the arm of the couch and balanced the laptop in her arms. She typed in “Lara St. Vincent” with her free hand.

“All I can find is a handful of obituaries,” Billie said.

“There isn’t a store by that name or an organization or something?” Asher asked.

“Not that I can find,” Billie said. “Maybe I need to put a hashtag in front of it and write it all together.”

She slid down on the couch and balanced the computer on her lap. She entered the search term and waited. “Oh, wow,” she said at last. “Asher, I think I just found something. And it’s big.”

“What did you find?” he asked, falling over himself to get to her screen.

“Lara St. Vincent is definitely something, but not a person,” she said. “Not exactly.”

“What are you talking about?” he asked.

“Have a look,” she said and passed the laptop to him.

“Hey, I think we need to call that new detective right now.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“I have no idea what I’m looking at here,” Detective Sullivan said an hour later. She was seated on the couch inside Billie’s tiny house, staring at the computer screen. Billie pointed to the graphic on the screen, a hastily drawn circle with the letter “x” in the center.

“Lara St. Vincent is a name the small group with Bianca was part of and this symbol is the symbol we’ve found associated with the name,” Billie said. “It just came to me that they had said something along the lines of giving me a bad review and that Lara St. Vincent would be upset with me. I shrugged it off at first because, you know, who cares.”

“And then you looked her name up and found this?” the detective asked.

“We looked up the name at first and couldn’t find anything relevant to a person,” Asher explained. “And then Billie put the name in as a hashtag, and she came up with this.”

“Okay, but I still don’t get what this is,” the detective said.

“Let me try to explain,” Billie said. “Lara St. Vincent is a character in an underground web-based novel, written by a person who calls themselves Doomsday. And the circle with the ‘x’ in the middle appears to be the symbol associated with the author.”

“Are you saying that this Lara person wrote this book?”

“No, no,” Billie said. “We don’t know the name of the actual author. He or she or whatever calls themselves Doomsday. Lara St. Vincent is this awful character in these novels.”

“Okay, but how is this relevant to my case and these two murdered girls?” Detective Sullivan asked.

“This Lara character is basically a horror character, the reincarnation of a murdered debutante that goes around killing other pretty young girls,” Billie said.

“What do you mean ‘the reincarnation’ of a murdered person?”

“Basically, in the novels, Lara St. Vincent can appear in the form of another person,” Asher said.

“And these groups of people show up and wait for her to make an appearance,” Billie said. “Or what they consider an appearance, since none of it is actually real.”

“And that’s what this entire weekend was about? Didn’t you check into these people when you booked this festival?” Detective Sullivan asked.

Billie quickly shook her head. “No, these people use DoXomsday, this weird hashtag as sort of a code word to show up at these influencer events and other mass events and basically take photos of themselves until Lara St. Vincent appears. It’s why I couldn’t really find any individual accounts with actual names. Everything just kept leading back to random accounts. That one account I found the first time, Clint whatever, I think he just so happened to post, and it was just a coincidence the four were on his account. The hashtag wasn’t there.”

“It’s very likely that the vendors don’t know a thing about the hashtag,” Asher said. “This is a real social media influencers event, but these other people have involved themselves in a different way.”

“Okay.” Detective Sullivan stood up. She walked to the other side of the room and stood looking at them. “What is the point of all of this? Why do they do it?”

“It’s a weird internet thing, Detective,” Billie said. “It is very hard to explain, but if you show up at these events and take a million selfies or something it is supposed to summon Lara St. Vincent to you. That’s why they flock to influencer events.”

“So, they’re trying to make this thing that murders people show up?” the detective asked.

Billie nodded. “Yes, now you’re catching on,” she said.

“I am?”

“Yes, but you have to understand that the point is to survive this person,” Billie said.

“But it isn’t real,” the detective said.

“Of course not, but the character still manages to go around posting strange and cryptic posts when the hashtag appears,” Billie said. “There is no actual profile for Lara St. Vincent. Someone creates a fake or temporary profile that can’t be traced back to anyone and will post threats or messages from Lara St. Vincent.”

Detective Sullivan sighed. “And you think this might have something to do with the strangulation of these two young women?”

“That’s the other thing,” Asher spoke up. “We looked at a few other events where this hashtag was used, and people gathered. There have been at least two disappearances of young women and the strangulation death of a third.”

“Are you kidding me?” the detective asked.

“No, not at all,” Billie said.

“Where did these events take place?”

Asher cleared his throat. “From what we found, none of them occurred in highly populated areas like New York or Chicago,” he said. “One of the girls disappeared from an event in Walnut, Iowa, and the other from Greenville, Wisconsin.”

“I think I remember something about that,” Detective Sullivan said.

“The murder occurred in Monson, Massachusetts.”

“Show me,” the detective said. Billie turned the computer screen to her again and began scrolling through the posts. She clicked on several more tabs with news stories about the missing women and the murder.”

“Each of those events happened during an influencer marketing event,” Asher said.

“And that is what this weekend was supposed to be,” the detective said. “Really supposed to be, but they come for this other reason and pose as influencers?”

“I have no idea if some of them are real influencers or not, but yes, that’s why they came here. Because they’re trying to summon Lara St. Vincent with their photos. It seems that they don’t all need to tag their location, they just need to use that hashtag. It’s like those who are part of things already know the location in some other way.”

“The Borg,” Asher mumbled.

Billie nodded her head. “I have a feeling there’s a serial killer of sorts running around,” she said. “And I think this Lara St. Vincent character is their assumed identity.”

“What do we do now?” Asher asked.

“Now I call the chief and get his permission to bring in a team of people with more experience with this type of thing,” the detective said. “The problem is going to be explaining all of this to Chief Abernathy.”

“If you need to make a phone call, you can use my bedroom,” Billie said. She pulled the barn door open for the detective and waited for her to step inside.

“I can’t believe I’m inside a horse trailer,” the detective muttered on the other side of the door. “Chief? Sully here.”

Billie stepped outside on the front porch with Asher and shut the door behind her. “I guess I now know just how thick my walls are,” she said.

“Uh, the detective is coming,” Asher said a minute later, nodding in her direction.

“Why are you two out here?” she asked.

“We stepped outside after we heard you call yourself Sully. We didn’t want to intrude or overhear something we shouldn’t.”

“Well, thank you for that,” the detective said. “And Sully is what most people I like call me.” She smiled. “I have to admit, I was doubtful about this tiny house, but I do like it.”

“Thanks, Detective,” Billie said.

“Sully.”

“Thank you, Sully,” Billie repeated, trying not to react. “What do you want us to do now?”

“For right now, I would just sit tight. I couldn’t get the chief to understand what I was trying to tell him, so he’s reluctant to call in more help until the morning. He thinks we can do this on our own. He has a lot of faith in you, Billie. Even though you aren’t in law enforcement.”

“Uh, thanks, I guess,” Billie said.

“I’m going home and will try to keep an eye on this hashtag overnight,” Sully said. “If you happen to come across anything, please don’t hesitate to call me.”

Billie closed and locked the door behind the detective when she left. She turned to Asher and yawned.

“Is that a hint that you want me to leave?” he asked her.

Billie shook her head. “No, that just came out of nowhere,” she said.

“So, you don’t want me to leave?”

“No, not really,” she said. “I’d prefer it if you stayed here tonight. I’m afraid for you to go out there alone.”

“Billie, if I stay the night, I’ll sleep out here on the couch,” Asher said.

Billie nodded her head. “I know you will,” she said.

“Are you planning to stay up a while?” Asher asked.

“No, I think we should get some sleep while we can. Who knows what else is going to happen around here.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

Billie sat straight upright in bed. She had fallen asleep at last, sometime after one. She picked up her phone from the table next to her bed and checked for messages. Nothing appeared on the screen, but she had the strong impression that someone had tried to reach her. She shook her head, trying to remember if she’d had a dream.

It was just past four o’clock. Billie returned her phone to the table and laid back on her pillow. She shut her eyes and tried to will herself back to sleep. Her eyes popped open thirty seconds later and she sat back up. She turned and stood up next to her bed, then padded quietly across the floor and pulled the barn door open just far enough to see Asher still sleeping on her couch. She turned and sat back down on her bed, pulling her laptop onto her lap from her dresser.

“I swear I’m missing something,” she said in the darkness. The room was illuminated solely by the light from the computer screen.

Billie looked through social media for the hashtag to see if there was any new content added but had no luck. She closed her eyes and tried to think.

The symbol. It hit her then. She had seen the symbol somewhere before.

Billie opened her eyes and looked around the room. Figuring out where she had seen the symbol eluded her, but if she could figure it out, she thought she might have a new direction.

The thought came to her. She opened the old social media posts she had already scrolled through twice and enlarged the Doomsday symbol. With the click of her mouse, she saved the image to her computer. The hashtag matched the symbol in a way. The X was in the middle of the two letter Os in the word Doomsday.

Billie then uploaded the image to the reverse image search engine and waited. She paused while the search results filled her screen. “That’s a lot to go through,” she whispered. She sighed and began scrolling through the results one at a time, stopping only when she spotted something that appeared relevant.

In the middle of the second page, she ran across the symbol and a name she recognized. She clicked on the name “Chad” and scanned through the photos. There was something vaguely familiar in the blurry, out of focus photos she found.

Her mind raced. The face, the symbol. Billie opened up her files and clicked on the folder with the photos she had uploaded from her phone.

“Asher,” she shouted into the darkness. “Asher!”

“Billie! Oh my gosh, what is it?” he asked, nearly breaking the barn door off of the overhead track.

“I know who the killer is,” Billie said. “Or at least I think I do.”

She pointed to the photos she had snapped during the day and the evening before. There, among the crowd of onlookers surrounding the second body she spotted the young man she had met earlier in the day with Bianca, Willow, and Sierra. His name was Chad. And the Doomsday symbol covered the black t-shirt he was wearing. The same shirt he was wearing when she’d first seen him.

“That guy right there,” Asher said, pointing to the screen.

“They said his name was Chad, and he was with Bianca earlier in the day,” Billie said. “I know a photo isn’t proof, but I searched for that Doomsday symbol and found a profile with his photos. It was old, but I think it’s still relevant.”

“Wow. So, he’s directly connected to the symbol,” Asher said. He sat down on the bed next to her and turned the screen around. “The internet might be scary, but it’s definitely smart.”

“And nothing ever really gets deleted or goes away.” She sighed and leaned into him. “What are you looking for?”

Asher was quiet for a moment, then sat backwards and slapped his knee with his hand. “Billie, I think you did it,” he said. “This guy tagged himself in a lot of places, including Walnut and Greenville.”

“And Monson, Massachusetts,” Billie interrupted.

“How dumb is that? If he’s the killer, why would he tag himself?”

“Maybe he’s the leader of this whole group and those tags are the reason everyone knows where to go,” Billie said. “No one would expect their leader to be a killer. I think we need to call Sully.”

“Maybe we should just text her,” Asher said. “She seems like she could get grumpy with too little sleep.”

“We have to let her know,” Billie began. She stopped speaking when something hard hit the side of her tiny house. “What was that?”

“Probably Waffles,” Asher said.

“That sounded a little too big to be the dog, even if he’s as big as a bear,” Billie said. “You better get on the phone and call the police right now.”

“Are you serious?”

“Just do it,” Billie whispered. “And remember, these walls are thin.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“You could at least offer me a cup of coffee,” Sully grumbled. She stood next to Waffles inside his enclosure, looming over the young man in handcuffs who was seated on the ground by her feet.

“You need to get one thing straight around here, Detective,” the police chief said. He stood just outside the chain link fence dog pen and pointed his fingers at her. “There isn’t room for two grumpy cops on this island.”

Sully turned her head and winked at Billie and Asher, who leaned side by side against the outside of Billie’s tiny home. It was just after five in the morning.

“I’ll run inside and start a pot of coffee, Chief,” Asher offered. He leaned over to kiss the top of Billie’s head and then bounded off.

“Thank you, Asher,” the chief called after him. He looked down at the young man on the ground and shook his head. “I still don’t get what this was all about. First I thought these clowns called themselves influencers, and now they are inventing fictional murderers?”

“It’s not fictional,” the young man said. He gritted his teeth when he spoke. “Lara St. Vincent is as real to me as my own face. You’re too old to understand, man.”

“No, no, Chad,” the chief said, kneeling down next to the young man. “I am not too old to understand make-believe and a fantasy world that some foolish people want to escape into. I am also not too old to understand that murder is and always will be something human beings do to one another. It doesn’t matter if it’s the stone age or the industrial age or this modern computer age. People will always find ways to escape reality, and they will also always find ways to destroy one another. It’s the human condition, or at least, two parts of it.” Chief Abernathy stood up and nodded to the uniformed sheriff’s deputies waiting to cart the young man off to jail.

“Here we are,” Asher said. He carried a small tray of mismatched coffee mugs with him.

“Thank you,” Sully said, sipping the coffee. She shook her head and patted Waffles on the top of his. “I still don’t understand how you all knew that the suspect was hiding out here.”

“There was a big bump in the night.” Billie smiled.

“Billie was up and had just found Chad’s profile,” Asher said.

Billie nodded, more serious. “Something woke me up,” she said. “I thought it was the chime on my phone telling me I had a voicemail or a text message or something.”

“I bet it was that kid,” the chief said. “Or his phone.”

“I wonder if he’s right,” Sully said. ‘I’ll find out if that was the chime you heard.” She handed her mug off to Billie without another word and dropped down to all fours in the sand. She shimmied herself inside the front of the dog house and wiggled her way inside.

“Does it even matter how I woke up?” Billie asked. “Either way, this guy was creeping around my house and he’s the killer. Isn’t that enough?”

“Apparently not for Sully,” the chief chuckled.

“Found it!” Her voice echoed inside the large, molded plastic structure.

“What did you find, Detective?” the chief asked. “Get on back out here and show us.”

Detective Sullivan moved slightly, then stopped. “The phone, but uh, I can’t.” she said. “I’m stuck.”

“You’re stuck? How are you stuck?” Asher asked. He handed his cup off to Billie, too, and dropped down next to the dog house. He pulled on the detective’s legs, then gave up and began pulling off the top of the dog house.

“Great,” Sully said when she peaked out from inside the doghouse. “You’ve got my top half free, but what about my bottom half?”

“If you’re patient, I will get you all the way out,” Asher said. “Chief? A little help?”

Chief Abernathy began removing the coffee mugs from Billie’s hands, rendering his hands too full to help. “So, Billie, tell me about this ice cream truck you have now,” he said. “Any chance an old man can get a sample before breakfast? I’m quite sure my doctor won’t mind. What sorts of flavors do you have anyway?”

“Well, there is a wine-poached pear, and that’s my favorite,” Billie said. She gently hooked her arm inside the chief’s and began strolling alongside him toward the commissary kitchen building. “Wait until you get the twins talking about their ice cream. They make a splendid salted caramel, chocolate deep and dark, and farm fresh strawberry.” She continued to list off the flavors as they walked.

“Billie! You can’t just leave me here to deal with this,” Asher called after her. “Billie? Billie!”

***

If you enjoyed Friend or Froze and are looking for more food truck adventures, preorder Grilled to Bits, today!

ALSO BY GRETCHEN ALLEN

Check out all the books in Gretchen Allen’s catalog!

Gretchen Allen Book Catalog

AUTHOR’S NOTE

I’d love to hear your thoughts on my books, the storylines, and anything else that you’d like to comment on—reader feedback is very important to me. My contact information, along with some other helpful links, is listed on the next page. If you’d like to be on my list of “folks to contact” with updates, release and sales notifications, etc.… just shoot me an email and let me know. Thanks for reading!

Also…

… if you’re looking for more great reads, Summer Prescott Books publishes several popular series by outstanding Cozy Mystery authors.

CONTACT GRETCHEN ALLEN

Visit my website for more information about new releases, upcoming projects, and be sure to check out my special Members Only section for extra freebies and fun!

Website: www.gretchenallen.com

Email: contact@gretchenallen.com

Visit the Summer Prescott Books website to find even more great reads!