A Deadly Cliche (A Books by the Bay Mystery)

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    The regatta was Oyster Bay’s last tourist-driven revenue generator until spring returned, and by nine o’clock Saturday morning, there wasn’t a parking space to be found within miles of the harbor.
    The downtown merchants had dressed their store windows with the deft touch of Fifth Avenue designers. The flower planters lining the streets were bursting with a vibrant mix of gold lantana and red geranium, and canvas flags celebrating the Cardboard Regatta hung from every signpost. The streets closest to the docks had been closed to automobile traffic and local vendors were selling a variety of wares, from beaded necklaces to handmade ceramics to funnel cakes, at a rapid rate.
    Olivia and Haviland strolled among the tourists, enjoying the September sunshine and a strong sense of community pride. One would never know that Ophelia had done her best to cripple the town. Every piece of broken glass or tattered shingle had been replaced. New coats of paint freshened front doors and shutters, and the sidewalks had been swept until they glimmered in the late morning light.
    Unable to resist buying roasted corn on a stick, Olivia chewed on the salty, buttery snack until her attention was caught by a display of oil paintings. She recognized Sawyer’s work immediately.
    “Gorgeous day, isn’t it?” a woman asked, looking up from a book of crossword puzzles. Her gaze was friendly and warm, but sharpened slightly as she recognized the tall woman with the white blond hair. “Ms. Limoges. I don’t believe we’ve ever met. I’m Jeannie, Sawyer’s sister.”
    Olivia reached out to shake Jeannie’s hand. She was a handsome woman closing in on fifty, with a trim figure and soft waves of auburn hair.
    “I was hoping you’d stop by,” Jeannie said. “Sawyer put me in charge of giving something to you.” She lifted the skirt of the cobalt tablecloth and peered around. “Now where did I put that thing?”
    While she hunted, Olivia examined the paintings. Much smaller than the chief’s usual works, they were all simplistic beach scenes. Though skillfully executed, they lacked the central object or figure Sawyer traditionally placed in his large-scale paintings. However, the tourists thronged around the booth, looking over this work with keen interest. A husband and wife grabbed a painting each and entered into a good-natured debate over whether to purchase a landscape of the beach at sunset or a painting of three children flying kites along the water’s edge.
    “What the hell, let’s get them both!” the man declared and was rewarded with a kiss from his spouse.
    Meanwhile, Jeannie had found what she’d been looking for. “Give me a sec to take care of these lovebirds first. I don’t want to miss your reaction to this,” she added with a wink.
    Turning away to toss out her corncob, Olivia felt an inexplicable impulse to walk away. She could disappear within seconds and simply allow the throng to carry her off like a powerful current. What had Sawyer entrusted to his sister? Olivia doubted he wanted to pass along information regarding the robbery cases and it was unlikely that his chapter had been rewritten and was now ready for her perusal, so what was Jeannie about to deliver? Olivia thought of how Sawyer had placed her hand on his chest and her face grew warm. If only she could be alone with him again, to figure out why he possessed the ability to stir her feelings as no one else had before.
    “Here we are!” She carefully reached over a group of paintings displayed on wooden easels in order to place a rectangular package in Olivia’s hands. “Go on, open it, honey.”
    Olivia obeyed, peeling away the brown butcher paper enveloping a canvas. When she saw the image, she cried out in surprised delight. “Haviland!” She put her fingertips on the layers of dried paint Rawlings had used to form her poodle’s black curls. There were Haviland’s intelligent, smiling eyes, the color of golden caramel, and his toothy grin. His seated posture was somehow as dignified as a king’s and as jaunty as a rogue’s.
    “It’s amazing!” Olivia exclaimed, her throat tight with emotion. When she spoke again, her voice was a mere breath, barely audible above the multitude of tourists. “It’s the most wonderful thing I’ve ever seen, let alone been given.”
    Jeannie’s eyes, which were the same shape as her brother’s but more green than hazel, sparkled with pleasure. “He’ll be glad to hear