A Deadly Cliche (A Books by the Bay Mystery)

bestseller, The Barbed Wire Flower . I wonder if he’s here conducting research. The Internet’s been rife with rumors regarding a sequel, and his groundbreaking novel was set down the road in New Bern.”
    “You’ll have plenty of chances to ask him,” Dixie replied enigmatically. When Olivia didn’t rise to the bait by asking her how, the diner proprietor gave an irritated tug to her sequin-covered lavender top. “You’re about as fun as a preacher at a strip joint, but I’ll tell you anyhow. Mr. Plumley’s rented a house down the beach from your place. You two can bump into each other on a lonely stretch of sand.” Her eyes were shining with mischief. “There’ll be an instant spark between you. Passion will ignite! You’ll tear off your clothes and have wild, steamy—”
    “Dixie! You’d better go. The lady in the Evita booth is waving her menu at you. I promise to ogle Mr. Plumley during my meeting with April, but we both have far too much work to do for me to stand here staring at him any longer.” Olivia turned away.
    “First you dump Oyster Bay’s most eligible bachelor, and now you don’t give a fig that a gorgeous, unattached, and gifted writer is sittin’ ten feet away, ripe and ready for the pluckin’.” Dixie muttered loudly enough for Olivia to hear. “Maybe what folks say is true: you do have ice runnin’ through your veins.”
    “A large cup of your excellent coffee should clear that ailment right up. You can decide what I want for lunch too. You always seem to know what’s best,” Olivia said over her shoulder and then greeted April Howard, the woman in charge of interior design for the Bayside Crab House.
    Olivia and April spread swatches of fabric, paint palettes, and carpet samples across the booth, barely leaving room for their lunch plates. April had chosen Grumpy’s famous country fried steak, and Olivia was envious of the lightly battered meat smothered in gravy until Dixie appeared with her lunch—a generous wedge of cheese, shrimp, and mushroom quiche, Olivia only had to taste one bite of the golden crust to know that she’d been given the superior dish.
    After serving the two women, Dixie lingered at their booth. She gave Haviland a platter of ground sirloin mixed with rice and vegetables and then asked after April’s kids. She voiced her opinion on the array of fabric samples, picking the gaudiest one of the lot and chiding Olivia for being too conservative.
    “This place should be lively! Red, white, and blue with a few disco balls here and there!” Dixie exclaimed. “Where’s your sense of adventure? Folks are gonna be crackin’ crab claws with little mallets and tearin’ at the meat with their front teeth. This isn’t fine dinin’, you know.”
    “We’ll have checkered tablecloths,” April said with a conciliatory smile. “But we need to keep the wall color relatively neutral because we plan to hang dozens of nautical flags in place of framed photographs or posters. Trust me, it’ll be bright and busy.”
    “Bright and busy, huh? Just how I like my men,” Dixie joked and skated away to clear dishes from the countertop.
    Olivia concluded her business with April, insisted on paying for lunch, and then remained behind while her employee left to make phone calls to suppliers before meeting her kids’ school bus.
    Watching April jog across the street, Olivia recalled how she’d first met the talented designer. Last September, April’s husband had been murdered and Olivia had been involved in the investigation. She’d appeared at the Howard’s home in search of a clue and had found one that helped break the case wide open.
    Slowly, April was healing from the devastating loss. She often called in sick and on those days Olivia guessed the mother of three had been assaulted by a wave of grief too potent to overcome. Olivia knew plenty about the grieving process and was fully aware that time wasn’t the consummate healer people claimed it to be. There were stretches of time in which the pain surfaced with such a raw and unexpected power, that it crippled the grief-stricken until it required an immense feat of strength just to get out of bed.
    “You did a good thing, takin’ her on.” Dixie had appeared bearing a fresh carafe of coffee.
    Olivia waved off the suggestion. “I needed an interior designer and she needed a job. Nothing more to it than that.”
    Dixie snorted. “You’re a transparent as a ghost, ’Livia. I know you’re