A Deadly Cliche (A Books by the Bay Mystery)

see several power trucks heading into town. When she passed a trio of tree-removal trucks, she suddenly realized that without power, none of the eateries or grocery stores would be open. Where were these workers going to get food? And there wouldn’t be much of a community cleanup effort if those volunteering were distracted by hunger. Yet who could make hundreds of meals without electricity?
    “Michel,” she said aloud.
    Her chef’s ruddy features paled when she outlined her idea. “You’re insane! I’ve always thought you might be, but now I’m certain of it!”
    Olivia ignored his protests. “Call the rest of the staff. Two men can take care of the tree in our parking lot and you can organize the shopping trip. I’ll round up some warm bodies to assemble sandwiches. Imagine being able to boss around all the people you’ve cooked for in the past. It’s your fantasy come true. They’ll finally see how hard you work and learn to appreciate your skill.” She could see the idea appealed to her chef. “We can do this.”
    “For free?” Michel was astounded.
    “Yes, for free. If you want to cook for a full house of paying customers this weekend, then we need to pitch in now.” Seeing that Michel wasn’t convinced, she added, “Maybe Laurel will be available to help in the kitchen. I’m sure she could use a lesson in the fine art of sandwich construction.”
    Michel looked offended. “You jest, but there is an art to making sandwiches. One must begin with the right bread. A croissant or a crisp baguette—”
    “Save it for Laurel,” Olivia interrupted and handed Michel her corporate credit card. “Call me if you have any trouble.”
    Leaving Michel spluttering on his doorstep, Olivia headed to Blueberry Hill Estates next. Even though she knew that visiting Laurel meant having to apologize for her recent rudeness, Olivia suspected her harried friend might be in need of a few groceries.
    Laurel’s husband, Steve, answered Olivia’s knock. They’d met before, but he didn’t act as though he recognized her or the large black poodle nearly glued to her thigh. When Olivia explained that she’d come to see Laurel, Steve bellowed his wife’s name and then removed a pair of work gloves from his jeans pocket.
    “Excuse me.” He brushed by Olivia, eyeing Haviland nervously. “I’ve got a hot date with a chainsaw.”
    Olivia stiffened as she heard her friend’s light footsteps approach, but if she had expected Laurel to give her a cool reception, she was mistaken. Instead, the younger woman threw her arms around Olivia’s neck.
    “I am so glad you’re okay!” she gushed. “I kept thinking about you—all alone in your house with the ocean lapping at your door. I must have dialed your cell phone number two hundred times!”
    Olivia felt her face grow warm in the face of such caring. She studied Laurel’s red nose and puffy eyes. Had Laurel been crying from worry for her friends? It was possible, but Olivia sensed something more serious had pinched the skin around Laurel’s mouth. She touched her friend’s elbow. “What’s wrong?”
    Sniffing, Laurel shook her head, as though frightened to give voice to what had upset her so. “I keep trying to pretend that if I don’t talk about it, I might wake up tomorrow and find out that nothing happened. That it was all just a bad dream.”
    Leading Laurel into the kitchen, Olivia sat her down at the breakfast table and began to open cupboards in search of coffee.
    “Please let me do that,” Laurel begged. “It’ll be easier to talk if my hands are busy.” She began to fill the coffeemaker with water. “There’s a woman I know from Dermot and Dallas’s playgroup. Her daughter, Hannah, was born a few hours after my boys.” She drew in a deep breath. “We met in the hospital and have traveled in the same circles ever since. She has two older children and is always on the move.” Pausing to count out coffee scoops, Laurel set the machine to brew and then grabbed the edge of the sink, her shoulders hunched up to her ears.
    “This woman, April, took her kids to a soccer tournament in Myrtle Beach over the weekend. She stayed there Monday night to avoid the storm, and when she came home this morning she found her husband . . .” She covered her eyes with her hands and Olivia waited to hear a sordid tale of infidelity. “He’s in a coma,” Laurel surprised her by saying.
    Olivia watched as Laurel turned toward the coffeepot and struggled