Poisoned Prose (A Books by the Bay Mystery) (12 page)

Thunder is good. Thunder is impressive. But it is lightning that does the work.

—
M
ARK
T
WAIN

T
he next morning Olivia woke to an empty bed. She didn’t expect Rawlings to be there, but Haviland wasn’t curled up in his usual spot at her feet either. The room felt uncomfortably cold.

Outside her window, the sky was overcast. The pale light leaking through the haze made the water look dull and sluggish. Remembering the storm front that had gathered offshore during the night, Olivia gazed down at the sand, hoping to find it damp from a strong rain, but it was dry and dusty.

As she walked through the hushed house, Olivia found Haviland waiting by the kitchen door. He thumped his tail in greeting and nudged the doorknob with his nose. She let him out, and he spent less than a minute doing his business before sitting on his haunches next to the Range Rover and issuing a single bark. Olivia shook her head.

“Come back inside, Captain. There’s no Grumpy’s today. You’ve had way too much pork lately. It’s chicken, rice, and veggies for you this morning.”

Haviland snorted and turned away from the door. He put his paw in his food bowl and tipped it over in protest.

“After breakfast, we’re going to take a walk. We haven’t found a single thing for this summer’s pickle jar in nearly a month. Something has to be out there.”

Olivia fed Haviland and then let him out again. She drank a cup of coffee while perusing the
Gazette
and ate a bowl of Greek yogurt mixed with fresh berries and granola as she listened to the weather report on TV. She dismissed the meteorologist’s prediction of a possible afternoon shower, turned off the set, and dressed in sweatpants and an old T-shirt. Grabbing her metal detector and backpack from an exterior storage closet, she headed down the path leading to the water’s edge.

As she crested a dune, she paused to inhale a deep lungful of air. It had a slight metallic tinge, and Olivia sensed the only thing the storm had given the town had been this acrid odor and a night filled with flashes of lightning. She was disappointed that the rain had remained out to sea, having wanted to wake to a freshly washed world. Instead, the dust and grit continued to cling to every surface. It would be another day of brown hues and feelings of unquenchable thirst.

Once she and Haviland had walked a mile beyond the lighthouse, Olivia unshouldered the Bounty Hunter and switched it on. Its clicks and beeps sang through her headphones and then immediately fell silent.

Sweeping the device back and forth as she moved over the sand, Olivia wondered if Rawlings had made any progress in the investigation. Her mind then drifted to thoughts of Flynn McNulty. She marveled over how little she truly knew him, even though they’d been lovers for months. Olivia wasn’t one to volunteer details about her past, and Flynn hadn’t seemed at all curious about her life before he became a part of it. At the time, she’d found his lack of interest refreshing. Living for the moment was all both of them wanted. But now she couldn’t help but dwell on his history. Had his beginnings been as humble and difficult as Violetta’s? Olivia doubted it. Flynn was always so cavalier. He didn’t behave like someone who’d survived hardship. He bore no visible scars.

“So why is he more intriguing now that I know he’s from the mountains?” she asked aloud. “Because he might be connected to Violetta? Am I still in her thrall even though she’s dead? Was her spell that powerful?” Olivia knew there was no sense denying it. Thoughts of the storyteller were never far from her mind.

Suddenly irritated, Olivia glared at the metal detector’s display. It continued to remain stubbornly mute. Once again, the trench shovel she carried in her bag would remain folded. She wouldn’t unpack her sieve, and Haviland wouldn’t be called to help her dig. The pickle jar would stay empty.

“You always send things for me to find,” she complained to the sea. “Why are you holding on to your treasure now?” The regular rhythm of the waves breaking onto the shore told her nothing. Sighing in frustration, Olivia turned back for home.

Haviland jogged ahead, raising his nose every now and then as if the air were still charged with electricity. As he passed beneath the shadow of the lighthouse, he abruptly stopped and pawed an object in the sand.

“Are you after some poor crab?” Olivia drew up alongside Haviland and saw that he was sniffing what appeared to be a tubular-shaped piece of stone. She leaned over and grabbed it with both hands.

“It doesn’t feel like a rock,” she told Haviland. “More like a shell.”

Pivoting the object this way and that, she marveled over its contrasting textures. The interior was bubbly and glassy, while the exterior felt like sandpaper. Slipping it into her bag, Olivia hurried back home. She filled a glass with ice water and settled in front of the computer to research the mystery object. “It’s a fulgurite,” she told Haviland excitedly. “Lightning glass. The lightning strikes the sand, fusing the grains together into a tubular form in less than a second. The shape of the lightning is left imprinted in its surface.”

Opening her bag, she drew out the fulgurite and cradled it in her palm. One of the ends was jagged, as if the point of the lightning bolt had been forever captured inside. “Petrified lightning,” she said, touching the rough exterior in awe. “It just goes to show that everything can be imprisoned. Even something six times hotter than the surface of the sun.” She held her treasure for several minutes, fascinated by the way it felt beneath her fingertips. Finally, she rolled her prize in bubble wrap and placed it in her handbag.

Thirty minutes later, Olivia had showered and dressed in a navy cotton sundress. The color reminded her of the deepest parts of the ocean. She usually brightened her ensemble with a necklace of fat silver beads, but the shiny jewelry seemed out of place in the wan daylight, so she left it sitting on the bed.

She’d barely pulled out of the driveway when her cell phone rang. Seeing that it was Rawlings calling, Olivia eased the Range Rover to the shoulder and put the car in park. Haviland barked at the unexpected stop, but Olivia shushed him and answered the phone.

“I wish I had some of your good Kona coffee to start my day,” he began.

Olivia admitted that she’d missed having him there that morning and then said, “Any breakthroughs?”

“I’d planned on asking Leona Fairchild a few more questions yesterday, but she was in no shape to answer any. That’s why I’m calling, Olivia. Mrs. Fairchild had a heart attack yesterday afternoon. She’s stable,” he added hastily. “But I know you’re fond of her and that you’ll probably want to visit her.”

Olivia ran her fingers over the fur on Haviland’s back. “I’m heading to the hospital now.” She was about to hang up and then hesitated. “How are you, Sawyer? Did you sleep at all?”

“A few hours,” he said, his voice gravelly with fatigue. “But we’ve made some progress. For example, we found an interesting connection between Greg Rapson and Lowell Reid.”

“Oh?” Olivia fumbled with her headset and, after she finally got it to work, pulled back onto the road.

“Greg taught a class called Human Resources Development to inmates at the jail where Lowell was incarcerated. The purpose of the class was to teach prisoners how to apply and interview for jobs.”

Olivia tried to remember if she’d seen Rapson after Violetta’s performance, but she’d had no idea who he was at the time, so she was unable to bring forth an image of him in the library lobby. “Was Lowell in the class?”

“He was. We have copies of his transcript.”

Olivia was too worried about Leona to process these new facts. All she could think about was that the older woman’s health had probably been affected by the stress of having had a murder occur in her beloved library. “I thought Rapson and Amabel were both college professors. And that Rapson didn’t live near Violetta. What was he doing teaching a class to convicted criminals?”

“Mr. Rapson teaches at the community college level,” Rawlings said. “The pay is lousy, and he takes side jobs whenever he can. Performing is one of them. Teaching inmates is another.”

“And did he ever mention that Lowell had once been his student?”

Rawlings snorted. “No, he didn’t. Just like Amabel failed to tell us that she was Violetta’s older sister. These storytellers certainly keep things close to the chest.”

“And Flynn?” Olivia couldn’t help but ask. “What’s his dark secret?”

“I’m still working on that.”

As she was nearing downtown, Olivia knew she had to wrap up their conversation. “Most of the storytellers will be at The Bayside Crab House this evening. Millay’s tending bar, and I hope to ingratiate myself enough to get a sense of who these people really are.”

Rawlings was silent for a moment. “Your schemes have gone awry in the past, Olivia. Dare I suggest you maintain a safe distance this time?”

“You can suggest it, but I won’t listen. Sawyer, I can’t. These people tell lies for a living. They jump from one character’s skin to another like a troupe of shape-shifters. Millay and I might just be able to peek beneath their masks, and we all have to work together to find Violetta’s killer. If we don’t, Dixie could be my next friend to suffer a heart attack.”

“And I suppose Millay will be pouring with a liberal hand.”

Olivia couldn’t tell if the chief was amused or irritated. “A very liberal hand.”

Rawlings sighed. “In that case, I’d better get back to work. If I solve this thing in time, I can have you to myself tonight and stop you from trying to do my job.”

He rang off, and Olivia nabbed a parking spot in front of Decadence. The desserterie was very busy. Inside, patrons sat at little café tables sipping pots of chocolate and enjoying buttery croissants or diminutive cinnamon buns. The room was redolent with the scents of baking bread and the sounds of relaxed chatter.

Shelley Giusti stood behind the counter filling a white box with peanut butter brownies. She looked up from her task and waved at Olivia. The customer waiting for the brownies turned and smiled in delight. It was Jeannie, Rawlings’ older sister.

“Olivia!” she exclaimed. “You’ve caught me giving in to my guilty pleasure.”

“We all have them,” Olivia said gesturing around the shop. “And no one here looks too unhappy about it.” Her eyes roamed over the items in the display cases. Everything was beautifully made and artfully arranged.

Jeannie watched her. “I’m glad you cave in to a temptation from time to time. With your figure, it’s hard to imagine you eating a whole box of brownies. Me, on the other hand, I’ll eat half of those the second I get them home.” She laughed heartily.

Olivia grinned. She was quite fond of Jeannie. Sawyer’s sister was one of the most cheerful, easygoing, and kindhearted people Olivia had ever met. She was also fiercely loyal to her family, and Olivia admired the older woman’s combination of sweetness and steel. Jeannie laughed loudly, ate with gusto, and was friendly to everyone she met.

“How can I help you today, Ms. Limoges?” Shelley asked, handing Jeannie her purchase.

“I need the biggest box of assorted chocolates you have,” Olivia said and pointed at the menu tacked to the wall. “That one called Versailles should do it.”

Jeannie hooted. “There’s over a hundred pieces in that gold box! Are you and Sawyer having a special evening?” She put her hand over her heart. “Oh, I sure do hope so. He needs you, hon. Sawyer’s been alone for far too long, and we all know that men are lousy at being alone.”

“That’s absolutely true,” agreed Shelley amiably and put on a fresh plastic glove. “Which chocolates would you like?”

Olivia gave her a plaintive shrug. “Would you choose? They all look wonderful.” She fidgeted impatiently while Shelley placed pieces of chocolate into the box, handling each one with the utmost delicacy.

“This is my new favorite,” Shelley said putting two samples on a doily. “Dark chocolate blended with dried cherries and minced pecans, finishing with a note of chipotle.”

Jeannie immediately popped hers into her mouth. Seeing Olivia hesitate, she elbowed her in the ribs. “Go on, girl. Jump in with both feet. Laugh too loudly. Sing in the shower. Eat the chocolate. Live a little!” She giggled. “I’m messing with you because you already feel like one of the family. And I hope you will be a Rawlings someday soon!” She squeezed Olivia on the arm, winked at Shelley, and left.

Blushing, Olivia bit the chocolate in half before Shelley could ask any questions. She barely noticed the creamy bittersweet chocolate or the sweetness of the cherries followed by a hint of heat. She couldn’t stop thinking of how she’d feel about being called Olivia Rawlings. Clearing her throat, she tapped the counter to get Shelley’s attention. “Actually, you’d better make up two orders of the Versailles.”

Shelley raised her brows in surprise. “That
is
decadent.”

“I’m bringing them to the hospital. A friend of mine had a heart attack.”

“I’m so sorry,” Shelley said with genuine sympathy. She then glanced at the golden box in her hand. “I don’t want to dissuade you from parting with your money, but will she be allowed to eat these?”

“Oh, they’re not for her. They’re for the nurses. I want to make sure she has the best care possible.”

Pausing in the middle of arranging the last chocolate in the box, Shelley said, “Ah, that’s clever. Very clever. The whole staff will be tripping over themselves to see to your friend’s needs. She’s going to be treated like a queen.” Shelley examined her handiwork and frowned. “Maybe I should take out all the ones flavored with liquor.”

• • •

Olivia knew she couldn’t stay at the hospital long. Haviland wasn’t allowed inside, and even in the shaded parking garage with the Range Rover’s windows cracked and a full water bowl at his disposal, the poodle would quickly grow uncomfortable in the summer heat. It took forever to find someone who could provide her with Leona’s room number, so she was already irritated by the time she had to wait while the elevator doors were held open for some sort of robot to drive itself into the cab.

“That’s Roxie,” said a man in blue scrubs when he saw Olivia staring at the robot. “She delivers meds on all the patient floors. She’s basically a moving set of drawers.”