A Deadly Cliche (A Books by the Bay Mystery)

green flyer and handed it to Laurel. “We took these guys up on their offer a few days before the kids and I left. I did it to lighten Felix’s load a bit and give him the chance to fully concentrate on his upcoming presentation.”
    Laurel studied the flyer and something flashed in her eyes. She engaged April in another line of questioning while sliding the paper over the polished table to Olivia. As soon as Olivia began to read, she felt her breath quicken. This had to be a tangible clue. She reread the advertisement.
    Tired of Mowing, Fertilizing, and Mulching?
Let Us Handle All of Your Lawn-care Needs!
We Want Your Business So Badly That We’ll Do a
Complete Yard Cleanup Package for FREE!
Just Mention This Ad When You Call.
GREEN AS GRASS
LAWN SERVICE:
We Strive to Make Your Life Easier!

    Olivia could barely sit still through the remainder of the interview. That is until April made a comment about how difficult it would be for her to find employment as an interior designer. “I haven’t worked for years and my last job involved a huge office complex.”
    Diverted by thoughts of her Bayside Crab House project, Olivia said, “April, I’d love to see photographs of your work. I happen to know someone in need of your skills. There’s no rush,” she added gently and handed April a business card.
    April stared at the card in confusion. “I thought you were Laurel’s photographer.”
    “I am,” Olivia agreed. “But I left my camera in the car. I assumed you wouldn’t welcome photos today.”
    “I do want a picture of Felix in the paper,” April insisted firmly. “I want those sons-of-bitches to see the face of the man they killed. And I’m ready to show my portfolio to anyone, anytime. I may want to spend the next year in bed but I can’t. I have three kids to feed.”
    Olivia promised to phone again in a few days, and she and Laurel walked to the door. Laurel, who had reclaimed the lawn service flyer, held it up to April. “Can I keep this?”
    “I guess. You can only use it once anyway.” Now that the interview was over, April seemed to deflate. Holding herself together for over an hour had taken its toll. She leaned heavily against the door frame and rubbed her eyes.
    Laurel squeezed the widow’s hand in farewell and then she and Olivia walked down the front path to their cars. “It’s a cliché, Olivia!” Laurel whispered as they drew alongside the Range Rover. “Do you think it’s simply coincidence?”
    “No,” Olivia answered. “And neither will Rawlings. Bring the flyer to him, Laurel. This is your discovery. I believe you were born to do this job.”
    Flushing with pleasure, Laurel tucked the paper into her purse. “I won’t be needing any of Michel’s food tonight. I came clean to Steve over the phone and I don’t care if he doesn’t believe I’ll even get the job, I’m submitting every article I’ve written about these robberies to the Gazette ’s editor tomorrow. If he hires me, I’m going to give this career one hundred percent.” She glanced back at the Howard house. “After all, you can never tell what the future’s going to bring and I want to say that I did more with mine than change diapers and iron my husband’s shirts.”
    Laurel thanked Olivia and got into her car.
    Olivia watched her friend drive away. “Brava, Laurel,” she murmured as the minivan disappeared around a bend.

Chapter 13

    It doesn’t matter who my father was; it matters who I remember he was.
    —ANNE SEXTON

    H er room was still filled with shadows when the ringing of the phone jolted Olivia awake. A few weak rays of sunshine crept through the windows, striping Haviland’s black fur so that he looked like an exotic species of antelope or zebra.
    Olivia grabbed the receiver and managed a raspy hello.
    “Sorry to wake you, Ms. Limoges.” Olivia recognized the voice of Will Hamilton. “For days I had nothing to report, but I have something now.” He paused for effect. “Your pink envelope was passed on. Rodney Burkhart drove down to the port here and handed it off to the crew member of a fishing boat. I couldn’t exactly leap aboard, but I found out the vessel was bound for Okracoke Island.”
    “Okracoke?” Olivia flung off her covers and headed downstairs.
    Will explained that he’d immediately set about hiring a charter boat, but was warned that the trawler , the Ritaestelle , might not return directly to its home port. As he talked, Olivia opened a coffee table