A Deadly Cliche (A Books by the Bay Mystery)

same as he had before she left to shower, but his breath sounded raspier. She listened to the harsh rattles emitting from between his lips for several minutes. Without taking her eyes off her father’s face, she began to talk.
    Telling Kim, Betty, and Hudson about the Donalds gave Olivia a measure of closure. The narrative had a beginning and a middle and an ending in which justice prevailed.
    When she was finished, her audience was kind enough not to pepper her with questions. The three of them sat quietly, absorbing the unbelievable tale, until Betty’s needles ceasing moving. “So what happened to their folks? What did their kids do as payback for making them go through childhood with twisted tongues?”
    Abashed, Olivia realized she hadn’t given a second thought to Mr. and Mrs. Donald’s fate. She’d concentrated solely on reaching Okracoke and had left her friends, her business, and several unanswered questions behind.
    “I don’t know, but this article is quite long. Perhaps it will tell us.” She unfolded the paper and found the story on the Cliché Killers quickly. When she was done reading it to herself, she returned her gaze to her father’s pallid face.
    “The parents were injured, but are recovering in the hospital. The paper doesn’t give any more specifics other than to say that their injuries were inflicted by Ellen and Rutherford.” She handed the newspaper to Kim. “Are there any photographs of my father and his life in this room?”
    Kim and Betty exchanged nervous glances.
    “I’ve got a couple,” Hudson mumbled. “But he didn’t like for people to take pictures of him.”
    That came as no surprise to Olivia. “What of Meg? What happened to her?”
    Moving closer to her husband, Kim leaned against his thick arm. “She died of a brain aneurism,” she whispered. “It was very sudden.”
    “What about children?” Olivia asked. “I’m assuming they had none.”
    At that moment, Caitlyn entered the room. Her eyes fixed on the figure in the bed; she stepped across the floor on her tiptoes like a prima donna ballerina. Her movements were so quiet and unobtrusive that it was clear she was accustomed to avoiding attention, but it was impossible not to take note of her grace. Without looking at any of the adults, she knelt by the bed and took the sick man’s hand in her own.
    Seeing the little girl’s tender affection ruptured something in Olivia’s heart. She could feel tears burning in her eyes and excused herself, murmuring something about having to take Haviland outside for a spell.
    She headed for the water, but her customary source of solace failed to bring her peace. For the first time since she’d fled The Boot Top, she wondered how her friends were faring.
    Brushing away her tears, she opened her purse and checked the messages on her cell phone. There were over a dozen. All of the Bayside Book Writers had called and she recognized both Flynn’s and Michel’s number as well. There were also several voice mails from local television and radio stations, but Olivia deleted these without bothering to listen to them.
    Olivia was torn. She wanted to check on her friends but didn’t feel like talking about what she was going through in Okracoke. Paging through the names on her list of recent calls, she highlighted Millay’s number and dialed.
    “I hope I didn’t wake you,” she said when Millay answered.
    There was a pause. “You’re worried about that? What the hell, Olivia? You bolted without saying a word to anyone!”
    So much for avoiding explanations, Olivia thought. “I can’t go into that now, but I will tell you when I get back. I called to see if the case is really closed and when the media vultures might be moving on.”
    “Tied up like a Christmas gift,” Millay assured her. “There’s an extra creep factor to the whole thing though. Did you hear about the parents?”
    “Just that they were injured.”
    Millay made a choking noise. “That’s PC code for ‘their tongues were cut out by their own children.’ Then they tied their parents to chairs and left them to bleed to death.”
    Olivia drew in a sharp breath. “My God.”
    “Exactly. A total horror show. If the chief hadn’t sent men over there when he did, those people would be dead. Laurel’s been to the hospital. She was the only member of the press the Donalds would see.” Millay spoke the latter phrase with pride. “A surgeon is going to try to reconstruct their tongues, but even