A Deadly Cliche (A Books by the Bay Mystery)

were ruined. It was fixable, she knew, but there was something about the possibility of rot growing on the very bones of her childhood home that brought Olivia unhappiness. She’d hardly lived a Norman Rockwell life in her sad, little room facing the sea, but it was hers all the same.
    Haviland sniffed every room and retreated outside in search of less distasteful smells, for the entire structure reeked of seaweed and brackish water. “We won’t be meeting here this Saturday,” Olivia said and left the front door wide open.
    After leaving the cottage, Olivia drove straight to The Boot Top. She had to park in the street, for an enormous pine tree had fallen in a diagonal across the restaurant’s paved lot.
    “Could have been worse,” she murmured with relief as she walked the perimeter of the building. Other than a few missing shingles on the roof and a pair of broken hurricane shutters, the eatery was unscathed. Olivia got back in the Range Rover and turned down Main Street. It was too early in the day to need air-conditioning, so she rode with all the windows down and raised a hand in greeting to the other residents and business owners who’d made their way into town at daybreak.
    The most noticeable difference between the business district before and after the storm was the sheer amount of debris covering the streets and sidewalks. Branches, leaves, pieces of wood, cardboard, and paper were strewn about in clumps. The debris, the lack of electricity, and the shell-shocked looks on the faces of the few pedestrians she passed gave the town a foreign air, as though it belonged in a Third World country.
    Slowing her pace even further, Olivia could see that dozens of storefront windows had been shattered, including the ones belonging to her favorite boutique, Palmetto’s. Rain had drenched the display featuring a rainbow of knit shirts and had knocked the mannequins flat. Olivia glanced at the neighboring retailers and saw that many of their signs were crooked or had fallen to the sidewalk, splintering into nonsensical words.
    It was apparent that several cars had been parked on Main Street during the storm and most had fresh spiderweb cracks in the windshields or dents that still bore the imprint of a heavy bough. The morning’s radio report included the news that federal aid for storm cleanup had been promised, but Olivia knew that Ophelia was going to empty the town’s coffers. Oyster Bay had less than a week to reinstate itself as the picture of a seaside utopia in time for the kickoff of the Cardboard Regatta.
    After making cursory inspections of her other properties, Olivia continued past the town limits and pulled in front of Dixie’s trailer complex. She found her friend barking orders at a good-looking boy of about ten and a sullen teenage girl.
    “Yours?” Olivia asked with a smile when the children stomped off.
    Dixie nodded. “Yep. Those are two of the tall ones. There’s two little ones ’round here somewhere, but Grumpy’s probably got them doin’ somethin’ unpleasant. He’s pretty ticked ’cause they snuck out to ride on a friend’s ATV when the eye was passin’ over and had us worried half to death.” She put her hands on her hips and surveyed the wrecked laundry lines and dog kennel. “Thor’s pooped in the house three times since the damned storm began. That dog is a wimp.” Dixie reached out and touched Haviland’s flank. “He doesn’t have your fine manners either, Captain.”
    Haviland flashed her a toothy smile.
    “Well, it looks like you and your clan are okay,” Olivia said. “I’m sending Michel on a road trip to Costco. I thought I’d see if you were in need of supplies.”
    “Filet mignon, lobster tail, Vicodin,” Dixie joked. “Actually, we’re good. We had to bring home a ton of food from the diner ’cause it was gonna go bad.” She raised an eyebrow. “My stars, you have gotten soft, ’Livia. I’ve known you for years, but you’ve never been to my place. Now, ten minutes after a hurricane’s passed through, here you are.” She dusted off her shirt. “You’d best say somethin’ nasty or I’m gonna have to tell folks that you do have a heart.”
    Olivia scowled. “I’ll just tell Michel to pick up some staples. Milk, eggs, bread, some birth control pills.”
    Dixie laughed until she sank down on the stoop. “I really don’t have twelve kids, you know!” she shouted as Olivia drove off.
    On the way to Michel’s, Olivia was surprised to