A Deadly Cliche (A Books by the Bay Mystery)

She searched the chart eagerly for connections. “I really thought we’d plug in all the data and voila! There’d be a cleaning service or a housepainter or a pet walker they all had in common. Instead, the only dots connecting these families is that they have kids and those kids play sports, taking the families away from home for a large chunk of time during the weekend.”
    “And then there’s the whole weird butter-dish thing.” He eyed Olivia’s purse. “Do you have the cards with you?”
    Nodding, she produced the deck in its protective plastic bag.
    Sue Ridgemont had removed the tissue encasing the deck after dropping it into the bag. Harris peered through the plastic and then, without asking permission, used his long, agile fingers to push the rubber band off the deck without opening the bag.
    “Whoa,” Harris murmured in admiration over the illustrations of scantily clad warrior women. “These are all Boris Vallejo images. His fantasy art is amazing. I’ve got one of his Conan the Barbarian prints. When you look at it, you feel like you could bounce a quarter off the guy’s pecs.” He fanned the cards out as much as he could without removing them from the bag. “Cool. The centaurs are the jacks and these mermaids are the queens. Man, they are smoking hot.” Blushing, he continued to inch the cards apart. “Ah, here’s a quartet of barbarian kings.” He frowned. “Wait a sec. Did I miss one?”
    Olivia, who wasn’t as fascinated by the artistry of the cards as Harris, picked up their cups, walked to the counter, and handed them to Wheeler. “Two refills please.” She paid for the espresso drinks and then returned to the table, eager to study their chart in search of inspiration before heading to The Boot Top to meet Chief Rawlings.
    “There’s a queen missing,” Harris pointed out as she sat down. “Not that I’d blame one of the robbers for taking one of these gorgeous matriarchs, but now the Ridgemont boys have no hopes of ever playing with a full deck.”
    He handed the cards to Olivia, but she didn’t move a muscle. “Not playing with a full deck.” Her blood quickened. Words clicked into place in her mind and she tapped excitedly on the computer screen. “Like a knife through butter!”
    Harris followed her train of thought. “Clichés? The thieves are leaving behind clichés?”
    “Two might not be enough to prove a theory, but if the third robbery—the one that turned violent—had some bizarre tableau in the kitchen, then these guys have a signature.”
    Harris dropped the cards on the table. “Even if they do, would that help the cops catch them?”
    Olivia shrugged. “I think Rawlings apprehends guilty parties by getting to know them, by discovering their story, so to speak. This modus operandi of the robbers is a message. It’s part of their story.”
    “Whatever you say.” Harris looked doubtful. “I just hope theirs has an unhappy ending.”

    Rawlings was comfortably established at The Boot Top’s bar by the time Olivia arrived. He and Gabe chatted amicably despite the din created by a party of four devouring a bowl of snack mix at one of the nearby tables. Olivia led Haviland into her office, said hello to the kitchen staff, and hurried to the restroom before Rawlings could spot her.
    Olivia checked her reflection in the mirror, smoothing tiny wrinkles from her belted scoop-neck dress. The garment’s simple cut and deep blue shade was accentuated by a triple-strand necklace of red coral beads. In the low light of the ladies’ room, she brushed her hair until it shone like moonlight and then spritzed the skin of her neck and wrists with Shalimar.
    As though the perfume announced her presence, Rawlings raised his chin and pivoted in his seat, watching intently as she closed the distance between them.
    He rose, and though his face remained stiff and formal, his eyes smiled. “When I was a boy, I was fascinated by mythology, yet I never understood why a sailor would willingly jump into the ocean because he heard a woman’s song. But I believe that if saw a siren looking like you do tonight, I would leap overboard at the sound of her first note.”
    Rawlings may have delivered the words in a breezy voice, but Olivia had never been given such a unique and lovely compliment. Suddenly, she felt as though everyone in the bar could tell that the air around their bodies was electrically charged, like lightning before the strike.
    Gesturing at an open table,