A Killer Plot (A Books by the Bay Mystery)

here awhile.”
    Embarrassed to be caught nearly in the chief’s arms, Olivia gave Bert a hard look. “Got any more of what was in that flask?”
    Now it was Bert’s turn to act discomfited. “Ah ... no. Sorry. I’ve never seen a dead body before and I needed a little something to help me settle down. I didn’t mean to be rude.”
    “Well, we’re in Oyster Bay, so perhaps you’ll grow more accustomed to seeing corpses. They seem to be piling up around here.” Olivia glanced at Rawlings. “I assume we’re done for the moment and that I can give my official statement tomorrow, being as there’s not much time until the meeting?”
    Rawlings nodded, his expression alternating between concern and irritation. Seeing him struggle to maintain a neutral look, Olivia was again reminded of the weight resting on the man’s shoulders. She took a single step toward him. “Haviland could stop this man before he gets a chance to enact that final haiku,” she said softly. “If the killer doesn’t show tonight, then we’re of no use to you and I vow to stay out of your way, but if he does, and Haviland can zero in on his scent, then at least you’ll know exactly who to pursue. Just give us a chance. I know the collar is evidence. I won’t handle it at all. I just need to open the bag and let Haviland smell it before the meeting starts. What’s the harm in that?” When the chief didn’t immediately agree, she broke eye contact. “Come on, Captain.”
    Haviland trotted out of the office ahead of his mistress, obviously ready to leave. Olivia said a short good-bye to Bert and then turned back at Rawlings once more. “This town needs us, Chief. All of us. If I can bring about a conclusion, no matter how clumsily, then I will.”
     
     
    Olivia expected a small crowd to congregate at the town hall—somewhere around forty people. Their meetings typically attracted a dozen or so regular attendees, but with Dean Talbot’s death, she expected several members of the press to be on hand to record Blake’s reaction to the board’s vote. She then added a dozen nosy townspeople to her mental list, knowing that Dixie would have talked up the evening as a potential source of colorful entertainment.
    At five minutes to seven Olivia parked in the mayor’s reserved space. “Well, his Honor should be inside by now,” she informed Haviland defensively. “And he’s filled with so much hot air that he should be able to float right into the building with minimal physical exertion.”
    Haviland just looked at her.
    “Honestly, Captain, I didn’t think this meeting would draw such a turnout. There must be something else going on in the square. A local band or a dramatic performance by that awful theater troupe. Look, there isn’t an available parking space within sight.” She gazed up at the sky, which had clouded over during the dinner hour. The darkness was deeper than usual and the ocean breeze carried a slight chill. Olivia grabbed an umbrella from the back seat of the Rover. “It’s going to pour,” she told Haviland “You’ll be glad we parked where we did in an hour.”
    Steeling herself against the uncertainty waiting within, Olivia opened the hall’s front door. She was surprised to hear noise echoing from inside the meeting room which was at the far end of the building’s main corridor. There was the expected murmur of adult conversation, but it was louder than she’d ever heard before, swelling into the hall like the buzzing of a thousand hives. These sounds were punctuated by the shrill giggles of a gaggle of preteen girls. The atmosphere permeating the building was electric. Haviland raised his snout, sniffing out the feelings of excitement and nervous anticipation flowing out of the meeting room like a pungent perfume.
    As Olivia crossed the threshold, it took her a moment to adjust her eyes to the sight before her. Clusters of young girls holding signs, magazines, and digital cameras filled every imaginable space toward the back of the room.
    A child Olivia judged to be about eight years old approached her and asked, “Is there, like, a limo parked out front?”
    “Not at the moment.” Olivia studied the child. She wore a striped tank top over a white T-shirt, a pair of denim shorts, and rows of multicolored yarn bracelets on both arms. “Why are all of you here?” She gestured at the fidgety, boisterous girls surrounding them.
    The girl in front of her held up a copy of Seventeen magazine.