Poisoned Prose (A Books by the Bay Mystery) (19 page)

After exchanging a few words with Grumpy, Dixie replied, “Don’t think so. Grumpy threatened to take a hammer to their video games if they kept info about Lowell from us.”

“I suppose he could have hidden the padlock anywhere in the woods. Is there a back way to your house?”

Dixie snorted. “None that Lowell could find, and it’s a long hike. The cops are waitin’ at that end and in our closest neighbors’ yards too. He can’t sneak his way in.”

Olivia, who’d been pacing around the office, kicked the desk chair in frustration. It spun lazily around, and Haviland sat up and started barking. “Where else would he go?” she mumbled aloud.

“We’ve asked the same question a million times,” Dixie said. “This feels so wrong, ’Livia, to be out huntin’ him like he’s a rabbit and we’re the foxes. We thought he ran off because he was scared, but that wasn’t the reason, was it? It’s those damned diamonds.”

“I’m sure fear is playing its part,” Olivia said. “The murderers are in custody, but no one can rest easy until they’ve been formally charged and locked in a cell. And that’s only a cause for relief if the police have enough evidence to win over a jury. It won’t be easy to get Amabel to confess. She’ll fight like a cornered cat or shift the blame on Greg or Flynn. Lowell has to come forward and name her and Greg as his assailants or—”

“Wait a second!” Dixie cried. “There’s another place he could’ve stashed the lock. The diner! He’s been in most every day, and he could slip in through the kitchen door without bein’ seen.”

Olivia thought of all the cabinets and niches in the diner. It would be a simple thing to stick a padlock inside a sugar bowl in the far corner of a high shelf. “You might be on to something, Dixie. You two head over there and I’ll drive through the alleys. Since Lowell can’t operate a car, he must have found another way to town.”

“None of the taxi drivers picked up a dwarf. I asked the cops at the hospital, and they’d checked with the taxi companies first,” Dixie said after telling Grumpy to head to the diner. “But he could have been hidin’ in someone’s trunk or backseat. He can make himself real small when he’s got to.”

For a moment, Olivia’s mind formed an absurd picture of Lowell jimmying the trunk of an Oyster Bay police cruiser. “He must be feeling desperate. Be careful, Dixie.”

Olivia paused to ask the female officer manning the front desk to get a message to Rawlings. After scribbling a note saying that Dixie thought Lowell might head for the diner, Olivia and Haviland ran through the rain and hopped into the Range Rover. Putting her windshield wipers on high, Olivia joined the search for the only person who could restore a sense of normalcy to Oyster Bay.

“No one’s walking around in this storm,” she pointed out to Haviland. “Let’s check the alleyways.”

Maneuvering through the narrow, pothole-ridden lanes behind the shops, Olivia drove slowly, keeping her eye out for movement. After thirty minutes of fruitless scanning, she ended up at Grumpy’s.

Haviland raised his nose and sniffed. “I know you’re thinking about bacon, but this isn’t the time to beg for snacks,” Olivia scolded.

She knocked on the back door to avoid startling the Weavers and then stepped inside the kitchen, Haviland close on her heels. “Dixie?”

“In here!” came the reply. Though she’d spoken only two words, Olivia sensed an unusual gravity in Dixie’s tone. When she entered the dining room, Olivia saw why.

Lowell was seated at
The Phantom of the Opera
booth. He wore a white lab coat over his hospital gown and was drenched. Water had run off his clothes and bare feet, and puddled on the floor.

“Am I glad to see you.” Olivia couldn’t help but smile. “Are you all right?”

“I’d be better with a hot cup of coffee, but Dixie won’t give me so much as a napkin unless I tell her where Violetta’s diamonds are. And I don’t have them.”

Dixie stood near the counter, arms crossed over her chest. Her mouth was set in a stern frown. “All you’re gonna get from me is a swift kick in the ass if you don’t start fessin’ up.”

Olivia approached Dixie and took her hand. “Why don’t you let me talk to Lowell? I’d trade both of my restaurants for a pot of your famous coffee.”

Dixie hesitated, but when Grumpy nodded, she relented. “I’ll fix you some, but if the dwarf tries to leave, sic Haviland on him.” She turned to the poodle. “I hear he tastes just like pork chop.”

Haviland’s ears perked up, and he gave Dixie his most winsome smile. Unfortunately for him, she was too hurt, angry, and worried to notice.

“It’s all over, Lowell,” Olivia said, taking a seat across from the sodden dwarf. “Amabel and Greg are in custody. And Flynn . . . he’s come clean.” She swallowed the lump forming in her throat. “Forget about the diamonds. Tell me who assaulted you.”

Lowell was silent for a full minute. He wouldn’t look Olivia in the eye but seemed intent on studying the Phantom of the Opera’s mask. “Another freak,” he whispered. “His story didn’t end any better than Violetta’s did. The other guy got his girl, and folks went after the masked man with torches. I never saw the play, but Dixie’s talked about it so much that I feel like I have.”

“She cares about you, Lowell.” Olivia spoke gently. “Please don’t let her down. Dixie Weaver is one of the finest people I know.”

“I’m glad she has a friend.” He waved his hand to incorporate the whole of the diner. “Folks respect her in this town. I like to come in and watch her work. Only the tourists stare at her like she belongs in a circus. The rest of you accept her. She’s lucky.”

“You could stay in Oyster Bay too. You don’t have to run anymore. Start over. That’s what I did when I came back here.”

Lowell gave a humorless laugh. “Dixie will never want me around her kids after this. I’ve blown it.”

“Then make it right,” Olivia insisted. “Who attacked you? Amabel and Greg?”

“Yes.” Lowell seemed to deflate after the admission. He sagged against the booth cushion and wiped a drop of water from the point of his chin. “They showed up at Dixie’s place and said they were going to frame me for the murder unless I gave them the diamonds. All I could think of was getting those two out of there before the boys came home. I had the dogs, sure, but I wasn’t close enough to grab the rifle from behind the door, and I didn’t know if that pair of psychopaths were armed, so I went with them.”

Olivia couldn’t begin to imagine how frightening that moment must have been. “You made a very noble decision.”

“Not really,” he said dismissively. “It was me or the kids. Real simple. I didn’t protect Violetta, but I’d be damned if I let something happen to Dixie or her family.”

“Then make sure it doesn’t,” Olivia pleaded. “Press charges against Greg and Amabel. See that they’re locked away. If you don’t get involved, they could walk, and Dixie will never rest easy again.”

Lowell wiped his face with his hands and sighed. His gaze returned to the Phantom mask. And then he looked at Olivia and nodded. “I’ll do it, but I’d like to have a cup of coffee first.”

Smiling, Olivia said, “Have two. I’m buying.”

Lowell drank his coffee, and when he was done, Grumpy agreed to drive him home so that he could change clothes before heading to the police station. Dixie rode along with Olivia. The two women stood like sentinels by the station’s front door until Lowell arrived. After Lowell followed Rawlings into the conference room, the two friends sat in the chief’s office and listened to the rain.

Dixie was the first to break the silence. “Lowell says he doesn’t have the padlock, but I don’t believe him for a second. I hope your man worms the truth out of him.”

“Me too,” Olivia said. “And I still can’t figure out how Lowell got to Oyster Bay from the hospital.”

Dixie grimaced. “All he said was that he got to know which of the nurses lived out our way. I’m sure he stowed away in her car. And you were right about him hidin’ inside the robot, though Lowell’s always hated tight, dark spaces. After what he’s put us through, I hope he was absolutely miserable inside that thing.”

Olivia took Dixie’s hand. “Don’t be too hard on him. In the end, he chose to come forward, and he nearly died making sure the killers didn’t get near your kids.”

“I suppose that’s somethin’, but we won’t be gettin’ out the good towels and askin’ him to stay in the guest room anytime soon.”

Olivia laughed and Dixie joined in, and for a moment, the sound of their mirth was stronger than the storm.

• • •

A week later, after the media grew tired of reporting on the murder of Violetta Devereaux and vanished to cover a shark attack off the coast of South Carolina, the Bayside Book Writers met at their usual time in the lighthouse keeper’s cottage.

Laurel made it through the first fifteen minutes before bursting into tears. “I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “But I can’t handle your leaving, Harris. Not after what happened to Violetta. Not after Flynn. And now there’s a “for sale” sign taped to the front door of Through the Wardrobe.” She sniffed. “I don’t want to lose anything else. Any
one
else.”

Harris put his arm around Laurel. “I bought a round-trip ticket,” he whispered into her ear, but Olivia caught the words and her spirits rose just a little.

“Okay,” Laurel said and dried her tears with a napkin. “I guess I can live with that.”

“What about you, Chief?” Millay asked, obviously trying to change the subject. “You must be totally wiped.”

Rawlings studied the splinters of light being cast on the counter by his green beer bottle before answering. “I am tired. But this”—he waved his hand to incorporate all of them—“gives me strength. This fellowship, for lack of a less cheesy word, renews me.”

Millay rolled her eyes. “Look out, he’s going all Gandalf on us. Rawlings the Grey. Or Sawyer the Salt-and-Pepper.”

Everyone laughed and Olivia felt some of her own weariness melt away. They would all recover. The tragedy would change them and possibly scar them, but it wouldn’t cripple them. They would work and write and talk and laugh. They would try to make each day memorable.

“I keep thinking about Violetta’s performance,” Millay said. “The way she seemed to know she was going to die here. And now, she’s become as big a story as the ones she told. I bet she would have liked that. Maybe she even wanted that. To be part of a story no one would ever forget.”

Olivia considered that for a long moment. “She seemed to care more about stories than people. I think losing Elijah did that to her.”

“During an interview session, Amabel told me that stories were a big part of Violetta’s relationship with Elijah,” Rawlings said. “Every evening, she’d snuggle with him under a pile of quilts and spin tale after tale. She created entire worlds for her brother. She gave him a place of delight and wonder and escape. She gave him things to dream about. And Amabel never forgave them for excluding her from their nightly ritual.”

Laurel pointed at Millay. “Just think of all the people who’ll read your book someday. Do you wonder how it might change them? Inspire them?”

Millay shrugged. “Assuming it gets published, all I want it to do is make them feel something. I don’t care what the emotion is as long as they have a reaction.”

“There’s no way anyone could read your novel and not be moved,” Harris said sincerely, and Millay shot him a shy, grateful smile. He nudged Olivia with his elbow. “And who’s going to be next to go agent shopping and have a shot at immortality? You?”

“Definitely not,” Olivia said. “Violetta gave me some amazing advice, but I’ve yet to put it to use.”

“I’ve got another six months before I’m done,” Rawlings said and turned to Laurel. “I guess it’ll have to be you.”

She laughed. “Not a chance! I’m way behind the rest of you. I trashed my first novel and started over again, remember?” Grabbing a throw pillow, she tossed it at Harris. “It’s all you, Harris. Polish that manuscript and send it out.”

“I’m going to be really busy at work, but I’ll try,” he said.

“You’d better do what she says or the four of us will show up at your Texas office and force you to e-mail a dozen literary agents,” Millay threatened.

Harris’s mouth curved into a wide smile. “That would be awesome.”

No one was in the mood to proceed with a critique session, so the five friends ate and drank and talked instead. Knowing this was the last time they’d be together for half a year made the occasion especially bittersweet, but Olivia wouldn’t have traded a second of it.

Eventually, Millay announced that she had to get to work. She scooted over on the sofa and gave Harris an awkward hug. He didn’t let her go right away, and the words he didn’t speak hovered in the air between them as heavy and thick as thunderclouds.

Laurel came next. She promised not to cry, but when she embraced Harris, her cheeks were shiny with tears. “You’d better Skype us
and
e-mail us
and
call us,” she said in the stern voice she used to reprimand the twins.

Rawlings shook Harris’s hand and then pulled him in for a one-armed man-hug, and when it was Olivia’s turn to say good-bye, she kissed him and whispered, “I upgraded your seat on the flight to Dallas. After all, you’re a VIP now.”

“Thanks.” He paused on the threshold and then said, “You’ll take care of her, won’t you?”

“I’ll be a friend to her. And I’ll always be yours too.” Olivia gave him another squeeze. “Now get out of here before we all start blubbering.”

Harris got in his car, and Olivia and Rawlings stood outside the front door and waved good-bye. Even Haviland seemed to know that something major had just happened. Long after Harris had driven away, he stood in the driveway and stared off into the night.

• • •

Olivia slept unusually late the next morning. The recent nights of broken sleep had finally caught up with her, and the sun had risen high in a clear blue sky by the time she slipped on a pair of flip-flops and went down to the beach in search of Rawlings and Haviland.

Cresting the last row of dunes, Olivia paused in surprise. Someone had set up a red-and-white-striped beach umbrella and a folding lounge chair on the sand, well out of reach of the waves.

Olivia glanced around, but the beach was deserted. She didn’t even see foot or paw prints around the umbrella, so she had no idea if Rawlings or a trespassing stranger had placed the items in the sand.