Bryan Farro leaned against the ferry's railing, the salt spray mingling with the cool breeze that ruffled his hair. The island loomed closer, its vibrant atmosphere a stark contrast to the rigid structures of his past. "Feels like a different world here," he murmured to himself, anticipation tingling in his veins.
Michael Rubins stood beside him, his gaze fixed on the approaching shoreline. "It sure does. Cherry Grove has a way of making you forget everything else," he replied, his voice carrying a hint of nostalgia.
"Welcome to Mango's, darlings!" Misty Bay announced from the stage, her sequins glinting under the spotlight. She scanned the crowd, her sharp eyes missing nothing, even as she maintained her sassy stage persona. "Don't forget to tip your bartenders—and me, of course!"
Bryan and Michael made their way through the throng to the bar, where Peter was expertly mixing drinks. His smile was warm and inviting as he handed over two cocktails. "On the house for you two," he said, his Irish lilt adding charm to his words.
"Why can't you ever just enjoy the moment?" Michael snapped, frustration etched across his features.
Bryan folded his arms, his voice steady but firm. "I just don't understand why you have to drink so much, Michael. It's like you're hiding from something," he replied, his eyes searching Michael's for understanding.
Michael sighed, looking away. "I'm not hiding. I'm just... trying to relax," he muttered.
Stumbling upon a clearing, Bryan froze. The body of Eddie Lamare lay sprawled on the ground, the moon casting an ethereal glow over the scene. His heart pounded in his chest as he knelt beside the lifeless form, the gravity of the situation sinking in.
"Eddie," he whispered, a mix of disbelief and fear in his voice. The realization that he was now entangled in a murder mystery sent a shiver down his spine.
"Do you think Michael could be involved?" Peter asked, concern etched into his features.
Bryan shook his head, though doubt lingered. "I don't know, Peter. I just don't know," he admitted, glancing around to ensure no one was eavesdropping. The stakes were higher than ever, and trust seemed a fragile commodity.
"You know something, don't you?" Bryan pressed, his voice low but urgent.
Misty's eyes met his, a mix of defiance and vulnerability. "I might," she admitted, her voice softer than usual. "But some secrets are better left buried, Bryan."
Bryan felt a surge of determination. "Not this one, Misty. Eddie deserves justice," he insisted, knowing that the path to truth was fraught with danger yet driven by an unwavering sense of right.
