A Killer Plot (A Books by the Bay Mystery)

park was the county courthouse. Renovated within the last fifteen years, the courthouse was a Greek-revival structure with a corner-stone dated 1836. It was whitewashed brick with chunky white Ionic columns and a frieze carved with an image of the state seal. By far the most impressive building in Oyster Bay, it basked in the early summer sun as though enjoying a well-deserved day of rest.
    “You can accompany me into the station, Captain,” Olivia informed her delighted poodle as she pulled into a spot near the courthouse. “They have a K-9 unit, after all, so they can’t protest your presence. Do you remember Officer Greta? We ran into her during your last grooming appointment.”
    Haviland barked excitedly. “Quite an attractive and intelligent German shepherd, I would agree. But she’s on the clock when she’s here, Captain, so no flirting. This is all business. Understood?”
    Snorting his assent, Haviland trotted next to Olivia. He’d never taken to a leash and, from the time he was a puppy, had responded to verbal commands with incredible acuity. Since her return to Oyster Bay, Olivia had been chastised about leash laws by policemen, fretful mothers, and a bevy of deliverymen (the most vocal being a terrified UPS driver), but she would rather pay a host of fines than force her poodle to wear such an undignified contraption.
    “My dog is smarter than most humans,” was her customary answer, but if someone persisted in lecturing her on leash laws, Olivia would launch into a list of classes she and Haviland had taken to ensure that he’d received top-level training in both hand signals and voice commands. If she felt especially talkative, Olivia would brag about Haviland’s agility and tracking abilities, citing the number of awards he’d won in the canine classroom.
    The locals had grown accustomed to seeing Haviland walking alongside his mistress, so when the pair entered the station, their gaits perfectly matched, the female desk sergeant blinked in surprise but said nothing. Olivia wondered if she had Chief Rawlings to thank for receiving no argument regarding Haviland’s presence in the building.
    “I’m here to give a formal statement about last night,” Olivia informed the middle-aged woman wearing a snug uniform. “I’d prefer to see Chief Rawlings if I may.”
    The woman shook her head and set her lips into a firm, uncompromising line. “Sorry, but he’s real busy.”
    “Of course,” Olivia capitulated and took a seat in one of the lobby’s uncomfortable wooden chairs. Haviland sat on his haunches next to her right leg, his soft, brown eyes alight with curiosity.
    Five minutes later, Olivia looked up to see who would be taking her formal statement and was most unhappy to be met with the surly visage of Officer Cook.
    “Long night?” she asked by way of greeting.
    “Yeah.” The policeman eyed Haviland distrustfully for a moment, even though he’d seen the poodle the evening before, and gestured for Olivia to follow him down the carpeted hallway.
    They passed by several offices and when Olivia spotted a placard with Chief Rawlings’ name, she peeked around the partially closed door. The chief was on the phone, but he caught the movement from the corner of his eye and waved her inside.
    Without bothering to alert Officer Cook that she was deviating from the current course, Olivia stepped into the office, waited for Haviland to pass across the threshold, and closed the door.
    “Yes, sir,” Chief Rawlings spoke solemnly into the receiver. “I’ll send an officer to collect you at the airport. He’ll be there by the time you land. Again, I am truly sorry to be the bearer of such news. Yes. Good-bye.”
    Replacing the receiver, the chief pressed his hands over his eyes and sighed. “I haven’t had to make too many of those phone calls during my tenure in this office, thank the Lord, but they are the greatest challenge of this job.”
    Olivia examined the lawman’s stained and wrinkled uniform shirt, the shadow of an auburn beard darkening his chin, and the discoloration under his eyes. As he sipped from an oversized coffee cup, his head fell into a strip of sunlight pouring in through the window blinds. For the first time, Olivia noticed that the chief’s hair was tinged with hints of red and that his hazel eyes resembled the muddy green of a deep woods pond.
    “Were you speaking with a family member? A relative of Camden’s?” she inquired respectfully.
    Rawlings shook