A Deadly Cliche (A Books by the Bay Mystery)

wanted more detail. At times, Olivia felt that Millay’s writing was too fast paced and wished her friend would learn to ease back on the narrative throttle. Tessa was a fascinating character, but it was difficult to get to know her because she was always on the move.
    Let us in, Olivia wrote at the end of the chapter. What is Tessa feeling? Even when she defeats the sea witch, she just flies off into the sunset. I know she’s exhausted from the experience, but you’re keeping the reader at a distance by not sharing what’s going on in Tessa’s mind.
    The phone rang again, but by this time Olivia was ready for a break. When she saw Will Hamilton’s number on her caller ID box, she snatched the receiver from the cradle.
    “I hope you have news for me, Mr. Hamilton,” she said.
    The private investigator cleared his throat, which Olivia sensed was a sign that he was about to impart bad news.
    “Mr. Burkhart picked up the package in question at quarter past eleven on Thursday morning. While still inside The UPS Store, he examined your return address carefully, and then tossed the envelope on the passenger seat of his truck. It’s been there ever since.”
    “That’s it?” Olivia didn’t bother to hide her irritation.
    “He made a phone call as soon as he got in the truck but the package has remained unopened.”
    This surprised Olivia. “Are you certain?”
    “Yes, ma’am.” Hamilton paused. “And seeing as that envelope contains a thousand bucks in cash, I’d say Mr. Burkhart isn’t exactly hurting for money. Either that or he’s holding the envelope for a third party.”
    Olivia considered the latter theory. “You may be on to something there.” She sighed. “I haven’t been completely forthcoming with you, Mr. Hamilton, but it’s high time I was. When I first hired you, I was afraid that I was being made a fool of, but now I’m so confused that I don’t know what to think. I have no interest in entering into a business arrangement with Rodney Burkhart. That was an untruth.” Having confessed as much, she told the private investigator about the letter she’d received concerning her father.
    “I’ve handled dozens of missing persons cases, ma’am,” Will answered solemnly when she was done. “They rarely have happy endings.”
    “I want to know who sent me this damned letter! And I want to know why ! Is this only about money or is there some possibility that my father is alive?” Olivia felt her cheeks flush in indignation. “After all this time, to have this wound reopened . . .” She struggled to steady her voice. “Mr. Hamilton, I need closure. Once and for all. Keep watching Mr. Burkhart. I can wait a little longer to see where that envelope ends up and it’s well worth the cost of your services if you can identify the bastard who’s ruined any chance I have of a sound night’s sleep!”
    The private investigator heard her anguish. “I won’t let you down, ma’am. On my honor, I’ll find out who’s behind this.”
    Satisfied, Olivia hung up and went upstairs to change into a silver-hued sheath dress and a necklace of large turquoise stones. The Boot Top would soon be packed with tourists in town for the Cardboard Regatta and she wanted to be present to ensure that her restaurant sparkled like Oyster Bay’s crown jewel.
    She’d barely had time to settle Haviland in her office before patrons began streaming into the bar. Most of the Cardboard Regatta participants attended the race year after year and had come to know one another on a first-name basis. In general, they were an extremely friendly and funloving group and the locals were glad to have them.
    Gabe was hugged and kissed like a long-lost relative and Olivia received her fair share of hearty handshakes and embraces as well. Wine, beer, and cocktails were consumed in hedonistic amounts and the noise in The Boot Top’s dining room escalated beyond its traditional murmurs and soft laughter. As the evening progressed, the competitors exchanged boisterous boasts and taunts while the wait staff scurried about, frantically trying to keep glasses filled and to set course after course of Michel’s exquisite fare in front of the diners.
    Saturday promised to be even more hectic. The Bayside Book Writers were planning to watch the races and then gather for a midafternoon critique session. Millay had to be at Fish Nets earlier than usual and Olivia wanted to be at The Boot Top by six, so their time together was