A Killer Plot (A Books by the Bay Mystery)

You’ve been through enough for one night.”
    “I could certainly do with some scotch,” Olivia murmured in relief. She removed the blanket from her shoulders and folded it into a neat square. “Thank you, Chief. I really have nothing useful to tell you at the moment, but I’ll gather the other writers and try to come up with a comprehensive statement.” She pushed the blanket toward him and gazed at him intently, her navy blue eyes black, mournful pools. “Please find out who did this to Camden.” She didn’t let go of the blanket even as his hands reached up to accept it. “I didn’t know him that well, but nothing he did justifies this cruel and undignified death. Please ...”
    The chief walked with her toward the alley opening. “Believe me, I won’t rest until I know what this is all about. This is my town too, ma’am, and I won’t stand for this. Now go home, Ms. Limoges.” His exerted his authority softly. “I need to focus on other matters.”
    Olivia obeyed, moving toward the parking area where she’d left the Range Rover. Part of her wanted to climb in her SUV and race home, pour a glass of Chivas Regal, and crawl into bed. That side of her didn’t want to speak calmly and clearly to one of Rawlings’ officers. That side wanted to ignore the doorbell, pull the covers over her head, and wash away the image of Camden’s body, slumped against the brick wall like a discarded department store mannequin, by overindulging in both booze and sleep.
    Yet the other, conscientious side knew she bore a responsibility. She owed it to Camden to make the right choice, and she needed to do anything possible to aid the lawmen in their search for the killer. As she strode toward the parking lot, the shock began to gradually give way to anger. When she saw the rest of the writer’s group gathered around her car, her mind became clear.
    “We’re allowed to return to the cottage,” she told them, disliking the coldness in her voice. “Someone from the police department will be by to take our statements later on.”
    The other writers were visibly relieved to be able to stay together and escape the dark. Olivia turned away from them in order to check on her dog.
    Haviland barked out a cheerful greeting at the sight of his mistress and Olivia pushed her fingers through the crack in the passenger window, comforted by the rough moisture of her poodle’s tongue. “Oh, Captain,” she murmured to her dog and tried to keep her voice from cracking.
    No one else spoke. Laurel was crying and Harris had his arm around her. He looked wide-eyed and pale, while Millay’s gaze was fastened on the ground. Her arms were crossed around her chest in a protective posture. No one seemed keen to move just yet.
    “Listen,” Olivia began again, forcing gentleness into her tone. “Someone did this to him. To Camden. I know we’re all trying to understand what happened tonight and nothing makes any sense at this moment, but we have to clear out and let the chief do his job.” She removed her car keys from her purse. “And we need to help by writing down anything that might be important while it’s still fresh in our minds.”
    “I’m scared!” Laurel exclaimed, her lips quivering. “What if the murderer’s still around? He could be in the bar or driving through one of our neighborhoods this very second! He could know us or have seen us with Camden!” Her eyes darted around the parking lot. “Who would do that to another human being? Millay said his throat...” She couldn’t continue.
    Olivia reached out and put a hand on Laurel’s shoulder. “Don’t think about that now. We’ll focus on any details we know about Camden. About his life, not his death. Okay?”
    The tender touch seemed to make Laurel cry all the harder and Olivia felt herself whispering, “Hush, hush,” as though she were trying to calm a bereft child. “Come on, everyone. We’ll go back to my place and make some coffee. Let’s get out of the night.”
    That last statement echoed with Laurel. “That-that sounds good,” she stammered. “I’ll call Steve from the cottage so he won’t worry.”
    Everyone piled into Olivia’s SUV. Haviland stepped onto the center console and nuzzled Olivia with his head. She put an arm around him, and for a moment, buried her face in the fur of his neck, inhaling his familiar scent of wet sand and fresh soil and eucalyptus shampoo. When she released her hold of the poodle, she felt as though the