A Killer Plot (A Books by the Bay Mystery)

Olivia recognized the cover model right away. It was Heidi St. Claire. “Everybody is waiting for her to show up. I saw her new movie this weekend, like, three times. She is so pretty and such an awesome dancer! I am so going to make my mom buy me some of the Heidi St. Claire clothes when they come out too.”
    “I see,” was all Olivia could manage.
    Ignoring the follow-up questions from the girl’s companions, Olivia pushed her way through a knot of parents who were only attending the meeting to indulge the whims of their daughters. After reaching the other side of the room, she noticed that the first five or six rows of seats were occupied by the residents of Oyster Bay actually interested in the outcome of the evening’s vote. Assorted members of the media were scattered around the room as well. This was to be Blake’s first official action as the new face of Talbot Properties and the restless reporters were eager to put their best spin on the small-town Planning Board meeting.
    Olivia finally reached the table positioned on a raised dais at the front of the room. This was the reserved seating for the board members. She dropped her purse and umbrella onto the floor, put her hands on her hips, and surveyed the audience. The majority of the crowd behaved as though they were at a social gathering. Raised voices and hearty laughter boomed from wall to wall. Those who had gathered to hear how the board would vote appeared to be growing more and more irritated at the feistiness of the Heidi St. Claire fan club.
    Someone waved from one of the front rows and Olivia recognized Laurel’s sheen of blond hair. The Bayside Book Writers were seated together. Harris gave Olivia a hesitant thumbs-up while Millay saluted her. Having spoken to all three of them after leaving the Ocean Vista condos, Olivia knew her friends were prepared to spend the next hour observing the townsfolk seated around them. Haviland glanced at the audience a few times and then darted over to Grumpy and began to sniff his boots.
    “Ain’t no bacon stuffed down my socks, good buddy,” Grumpy said and patted Haviland on the head. “Though I reckon my shoes smell like a kitchen, hm?”
    Grumpy’s work boots reminded Olivia of the tracks in the sand near the lighthouse keeper’s cottage. She turned back to the townsfolk again but could only see the feet of those seated in the first row.
    Even if Rawlings brings me the collar, will Haviland be able pick up the scent in this crush? Olivia’s worries were interrupted by the arrival of Mayor Guthrie, who was flanked by two policemen. Walking behind that trio were a man and a woman wearing sunglasses. Olivia only caught a glimpse of the pair before the room exploded in a chorus of high-pitched screams and the cops quickly leapt in front of their charges.
    Haviland, disturbed by the yelling and shrieking, retreated behind the table. Olivia took her seat and pulled the poodle against her, crooning into his ear. It seemed to take ages before the mayor appeared behind the podium and Blake Talbot and Heidi St. Claire settled into a set of reserved seats in the front row. As the burly policemen took up their positions at the end of each aisle, holding out stiff hands to stop the further encroachment of the hysterical young girls, a third made his way to Olivia’s side. Wordlessly, he handed her a paper grocery bag and then joined his fellow officers.
    Olivia peered inside. Haviland’s collar rested inside a sealed plastic bag.
    “Attention, please!” Mayor Guthrie shouted into the microphone. “Girls, please! Quiet down! Stop screaming! PLEASE!”
    Somehow, the decibel level dropped enough for the mayor to speak without hollering. His cheeks were already flushed with heat and self-importance.
    “I understand that many of you are excited by our special guests.” The mayor beamed and Olivia was impressed by his tact. Clearly, Heidi St. Claire was the star attraction, but by using the word “guests,” he made certain to include Blake Talbot as one of Oyster Bay’s honored visitors. “Miss St. Claire has graciously informed me that she is willing to sign autographs after our meeting is adjourned.” Here, Guthrie had to pause while the girls went wild again. “So if you’d care to wait outside while we conduct our business ... ?”
    “No way! It’s totally raining!” one of the older girls argued.
    Olivia looked toward the row of windows lining the outer wall. Indeed, a steady rain had begun