A Killer Plot (A Books by the Bay Mystery)

quickly over the well-maintained property, noticing the drought-resistant annuals and the close-cropped beds of Bermuda grass. The condos were built of pristine white stucco that gleamed in the sunlight, providing an aesthetically pleasing contrast to the terra-cotta-style roof shingles. Taking note of the signs pointing vacationers to bike paths, tennis courts, pools, hot tubs, a miniature golf course, laundry room, fitness area, snack bar, as well as an arrow pointing to even-numbered rooms, Olivia climbed the next set of stairs and paused as she came to number two-twelve.
    “Ready, Captain?”
    Haviland shifted his weight from one leg to the other, inhaled, and faced the door. Olivia knocked. She listened for sounds from inside the condo but heard nothing. She knocked again.
    “His car is here.” Olivia knocked a third time, impatiently calling out Max’s name. She sighed in exasperation and turned to her poodle. “Is he inside?”
    Dipping his black nose to the floor, Haviland’s snout connected with the cement in front of the door. Breathing rapidly, the poodle absorbed the fresh scents and then pressed his nostrils as far into the crack under the door as he could. He growled and took several small steps backward. Olivia watched him carefully.
    “He is in there! Your nose is never wrong. Let’s get Bert.”
    Olivia hastened to the management office, pausing only to grab the shopping bag containing Bert’s treats from the Range Rover. Olivia felt the food and wine would immediately smooth her way with the manager.
    Bert must have seen Olivia coming up the sidewalk, for he met her at the receptionist’s desk, pumping her hand and smiling as though he were running for political office. He glanced nervously at Haviland but was too polite to question the poodle’s presence.
    “From my chef,” Olivia said, handing him the bag. “And though it was my intention to discuss business with you right away, I’m afraid I am too distracted over my concern for Mr. Warfield to do so.”
    Bert ran a hand over his pink, bald head. “Oh? What seems to be the trouble?”
    “I don’t know,” Olivia answered truthfully. “I knocked on his door several times, but he didn’t respond.” Seeing that Bert was unaffected by this statement, she decided to embellish. “I also tried his cell phone. Normally, I’d say he was merely in the shower or taking a nap, but I’m aware that he has a heart condition. In this heat...” She waved toward the wall of windows facing the parking lot and lowered her voice. “Sometimes these northerners don’t take proper precautions.”
    “Isn’t that the truth? You’d think they’d never heard of sunscreen,” Bert agreed and then fell silent, considering a course of action.
    “I’d feel so much better if you’d try to reach him.” Olivia touched Bert’s shoulder. “What if he required medical attention and we didn’t respond?”
    That pushed the right button. Bert grabbed a set of keys and gestured for Olivia to follow his lead. Together, they marched to unit two-twelve without speaking. Bert gave an authoritative knock on Max’s door and then dialed a number on his cell phone. They could hear Max’s phone ringing from somewhere inside the condo.
    Haviland growled again. Bert did a little sideways hop as though the poodle’s teeth were aiming for his meaty calf.
    “He’s not directing that threat at you, Mr. Long,” Olivia said soothingly. “Haviland senses something amiss on the other side of this door.”
    Paling, Bert knocked once more and then announced he was coming in. He turned the key and tentatively pushed the door open. Assaulted by a blast of air-conditioning, he and Olivia stepped into the disheveled living room. Crumpled clothes and towels were strewn on the peach-colored sectional. The surface of every table was littered with empty soda and beer bottles, newspapers, magazines, and deflated potato chip bags.
    Frowning, Bert called Max’s name again, but this time his voice carried an edge of disapproval.
    “You’d better wait here,” Bert cautioned as he took a quick glance around the equally untidy kitchen.
    Ignoring the manager, Olivia made a gesture with her right hand. “Search, Haviland.”
    The poodle darted in front of Bert and as the two humans waited, they heard a deep-throated growl echo from the back rooms. Instinctively, Bert and Olivia froze, only resuming their wary gait once Haviland’s growl changed into an urgent, high-pitched