A Killer Plot (A Books by the Bay Mystery)

Talbot, he found a way to get a job on a Talbot Fine Properties construction site in another state. Max Warfield spent a few days overseeing that project’s progress and Atlas was able to offer his services as a hit man. Mr. Warfield had long been chafing at the bit and knew he could easily persuade Blake to finance the permanent removal of Dean Talbot. The two of them would then rule Talbot Fine Properties together.” Rawlings took a sip of champagne, the flute looking too delicate in his bearlike hand.
    Harris sat forward on the sofa, anxious to ask Rawlings a question of his own. “But if Dean was supposed to be the only victim, why did Atlas kill Camden?”
    “Mr. Kraus wanted to frame young Mr. Talbot for the murder,” Rawlings answered after a long moment of silence. “He lured Mr. Ford to that alley by offering an exchange of information for cash. For a few hundred dollars, he told Mr. Ford that he could prove that Dean Talbot’s youngest son and right-hand man were plotting to overthrow him. Mr. Kraus made this call from the library pay phone and the number showed up on Mr. Ford’s phone records.”
    “But why kill Camden?” Olivia interjected heatedly.
    “According to Mr. Kraus’s confession, Blake wrote the winter haiku, but it was meant for his father, not Mr. Ford. Atlas made up some elaborate lie about the gossip writer having insider information about their wicked plot and that he needed to be silenced. He told Blake to mail him additional funds and another poem for Dean. He didn’t have the chance to leave that haiku with the body because some teenagers arrived at the park to mess around in the gazebo. Atlas was at the top of the stairs and his victim at the bottom, so he had no choice but to flee.”
    The chief of police and the three writers fell mute; each of them picturing a broken body sprawled at the base of the deteriorating steps and a murderer racing into a copse of oak trees.
    Finally, Millay shifted in her seat and made a noise of exasperation. “What’s with the damned poems anyway? Was Blake going all Hamlet on his daddy or what? Why did he feel a burning desire to write a stupid haiku to leave on his father’s murdered corpse?”
    “I read a rather revealing interview about young Mr. Talbot,” Rawlings said quietly. “He began writing poems as a small boy but hid them because his father ridiculed him for writing. He called him a fairy and a pansy and a loser. I believe Blake very much wanted to have the last word.”
    Rawlings and Olivia looked at each other. They could almost sense the scant lines of the four haiku lingering in the air around them. The poems had been brought to life for evil purposes and now they had gained a certain amount of power. Works of creativity transformed by the dark souls of their authors. The memory of the poems seemed a sharp contrast to the aspirations the Bayside Book Writers had for their own manuscripts.
    “Blake got what he wanted after Dean’s death, but Atlas’s goals hadn’t been satisfied,” Olivia said as she cut slices of aged Gouda and Brie and laid the cheese alongside a fan of thin crackers. “In the end, he intended to murder Blake.” She handed the plate to Rawlings.
    He picked up a cracker and held the food suspended in the air. “Yes. Mr. Kraus deemed the young Mr. Talbot an unworthy suitor and also as someone who was sure to interfere with his plans to renew a relationship with his daughter. He wanted to take charge of Heidi’s career. He feels she owes him for abandoning him and going to California with her mother.”
    “Oh, that’s rich! Why would she stay with an abusive lunatic? She would never have forgiven him. He beat her mother! He plotted to kill her boyfriend!” Millay scowled.
    Rawlings ignored the outburst. “Mr. Kraus also had to get rid of Mr. Warfield, being that he and Blake were confederates. Mr. Kraus couldn’t risk leaving Mr. Warfield alive. Mr. Warfield may have interfered with Mr. Kraus’s attempts to go after Blake Talbot.”
    “Why do you call that scumbag ‘Mr. Kraus’?” Millay was angry. “I can give you a few choice adjectives if you’ve run out.”
    The chief put his plate on the coffee table and clasped his hands together. “I do my best to treat everyone with respect. Mr. Kraus may be a criminal, a monster even, but it is not for me to judge him. I leave that weighty responsibility to others. He broke the law, so I arrested him. That’s my job and I try to perform it