A Deadly Cliche (A Books by the Bay Mystery)

fifty-some sutures to knit her layers of skin back together. She received a tetanus shot, instructions on how to clean her wound, and an appointment for suture removal in ten days’ time.
    During the ride back to Laurel’s house, Olivia’s arm throbbed mercilessly. She’d been given plenty of shots to kill the pain while the doctor cleaned and repaired her wound, but now there was a steady ache and her entire arm felt heavy and swollen. The nurse had given Olivia a sling, and though she hated to wear it, she couldn’t imagine letting her limb hang on its own.
    Not only had Laurel let Haviland dash after the park’s squirrels to his heart’s content, but per Olivia’s request she’d taken him to the vet to ensure he had no injuries. As soon as Diane declared the poodle healthy as usual, Laurel called The Boot Top and asked Michel to prepare something special for the canine champion.
    “My mother-in-law is picking up the twins so we can go straight to the restaurant,” Laurel said. “I’m in no rush to go home.”
    Olivia leaned back against the headrest. “Good. I could use a drink.”
    Being that it was past lunchtime, The Boot Top’s bar was empty and the lights were set to their daytime setting. Olivia immediately adjusted the dimmer slide until the room was plunged into semidarkness.
    Taking up Gabe’s position behind the bar, she checked the ice supply and reached for a tumbler. “What’s your pleasure?” she asked Laurel.
    “Normally, I’d say it’s way too early to be drinking, but I could easily slurp down a sea breeze or two.”
    “Purely medicinal,” Olivia said, beginning to mix Laurel’s cocktail. “You’ve had a rather extraordinary morning after all.” She glanced at her friend in concern. “What does Steve have to say about all this?”
    Laurel shrugged. “He doesn’t know yet. His whole office takes a long lunch hour, and when I called his cell, he didn’t answer. I told his folks that I was taking you to the hospital, but that’s as much information as I wanted to arm them with. They’ll be chewing me out soon enough.” She took a grateful sip of the fruity cocktail Olivia set on the bar.
    “I’ll have what she’s having!” Millay called out as she strolled into the bar, Harris close on her heels.
    Olivia paused in the middle of pouring out a generous measure of Chivas Regal. “This is a pleasant surprise. Have you both called in sick?”
    Millay glanced at her watch. “I’ve got two hours before my shift starts and Harris snuck out of a meeting. We had to show up after Laurel called and told us what went down today.”
    “Besides, my meeting was crap anyway and they’ll never notice I’m gone,” Harris remarked idly. “The whole staff is there and everyone just sits around and plays games on their phones while the boss yaps about the bottom line. During our last warm and fuzzy get-together, I achieved a new high score on Cannon Challenge. It was awesome !” He examined the beer taps and pointed at the one bearing the logo of an area microbrewery. “Amber ale. Perfect. Good thing you can work the tap with one arm, eh?” His voice abruptly lost its levity. “Seriously, Olivia. Are you okay?”
    Olivia distributed drinks before answering. “I’m fine, thank you. The Donalds are in police custody and I’m confident that Rawlings will get a confession from Ellen. She wants everyone to know exactly how she and Rutherford turned into monsters. Her anger hasn’t been assuaged and I believe she’ll enjoy having an audience.”
    “I hope they both confess,” Laurel said with a shiver. “I’d rather not have any more knives pointed at my eye.”
    Millay slapped Laurel on the back. “Just think of the article you can write now! A first-person account to totally wrap up all the groundwork you laid in your earlier pieces. This is Pulitzer material, girlfriend!”
    For a moment, Laurel’s blue eyes shimmered at the thought, but the light quickly died. “Steve will never let me continue my work after what’s happened. He’ll tell me that my actions might have endangered the lives of our boys. If they’d been home, that would have been true.” She hung her head in shame. “My selfishness could have led to the end of my family. And they’re my whole world.”
    Harris pushed his beer aside and jumped onto the barstool next to Laurel’s. He slung a lanky arm around her shoulders. “You’re a writer. It’s who you are. Whether you write for the