A Deadly Cliche (A Books by the Bay Mystery)

create fantasy settings all day long. You start seeing the images in your sleep.” He paused. “But no, she hasn’t had word from her regulars about anyone having gone AWOL. There’s been plenty of talk about the murder though. Even here at work, where most of us are total ostriches and have no idea what’s going on in the outside world, people are coming up with all kinds of crazy theories.”
    “At least the story didn’t break until Monday. Most of the tourists were packing up by the time they saw the headlines in the Gazette ,” Olivia said, recalling the media coverage of the past week. The local news channels had done their best to spin the story into as many segments as they could, but by Thursday night, it was clear there was no fresh information to convey.
    There was also a hotter news topic to cover, being that Tropical Storm Ophelia was now speeding northeast toward the North Carolina coast. The meteorologists called for rain beginning on Saturday with high wind gusts due in by Sunday morning. A team of experts, all of whom had come up with a bevy of scientific-sounding excuses as to why they’d called for the storm to move northwest into the Atlantic, was now falling all over themselves to predict the height of the storm surge and total amount of rainfall Ophelia would produce.
    Despite her own interest in the storm, as she’d have to determine whether to close The Boot Top and plan what she and Havilland would eat once they lost power, Olivia had been wondering if the police department’s appeal for help had garnered anything useful. Now, Rawlings’ incomplete chapter gave her the perfect excuse to contact the chief.
    Olivia realized she hadn’t been paying attention to Harris, who was prattling on about his latest software development. She tuned in just in time to hear his description of how the trees he created could come to life and grab video game warriors in their clawlike branches. “Oh! Oh crap!” He sounded alarmed. “I’ve gotta run! There’s a major bug in this code! My tree just ripped an elf in half. Elves are supposed to be immune to nature attacks!”
    “Sounds serious,” Olivia sympathized and, after wishing Harris good luck, tried to reach the chief. Unfortunately, Rawlings was unavailable and Olivia didn’t feel like leaving a message. She sent him a quick e-mail instead, requesting that he send an attachment containing his chapter in its entirety. Otherwise, tomorrow’s meeting will be extremely brief, she added. She cc’d the rest of the Bayside Book Writers so no one else harassed Rawlings over his missing pages.
    As she drove into town for her lunch meeting, Olivia wondered how Laurel’s interview had gone. Olivia was surprised by her own interest in the subject. She wasn’t used to being intimately involved in other people’s personal lives, but she felt protective of Laurel and wanted the younger woman to succeed.
    “I guess she didn’t get the job or we would have heard from her by now,” Olivia said to Haviland.
    The poodle glanced at her and then stuck his head back out the open passenger window, his tongue unrolling from between his lips like a length of pink carpet. The humidity had dropped, the powerful September sun was obscured by a thick cloud cover, and the salt-tinged air clearly appealed to Haviland.
    “Don’t worry, Captain, your day is only going to get better from here on out.” Olivia parked in the loading zone in front of Beach Burgers. “Guess where we’re having lunch.”
    Haviland pawed his seat belt and barked. The moment Olivia released the belt, he leapt through the open car window and waited impatiently on the sidewalk for Olivia to collect her purse and briefcase. Prancing beside her, Haviland displayed his best grin to all the passersby, receiving dozens of compliments from the townsfolk. The only person who seemed displeased to see him was Millicent Banks, the Realtor.
    “I’d heard that your pooch accompanies you everywhere, but I put that down as rumor,” Millicent said as she plastered on her professional smile.
    “He goes where I go. Think of him as my benevolent shadow. At least no one will try to steal your purse while he’s around.” The Realtor unconsciously held on to her Chanel clutch a little tighter as Olivia turned away to tell the café’s hostess they’d like a patio table.
    Millicent blanched. “Are you sure? It’s still rather hot, even though that nice wind from the incoming storm has chased