A Killer Plot (A Books by the Bay Mystery)

quick note to call the spa in New Bern the next morning.
    Laurel made a noncommittal noise. “Only around us. He hasn’t had a date since his high school prom and I think his social life exists totally in cyberspace. Facebook and Twitter and places like that.”
    Olivia’s glance wandered to her copy of Sunday’s Oyst er Bay Gazette. The local weekly, which went to print Saturday evening and was therefore mercifully free of any dramatic headlines regarding Camden’s death, featured a black-and-white photo and a front-page article about Flynn McNulty and Through the Wardrobe.
    “Laurel!” Olivia tapped the photograph of Flynn leaning against one of his armoires, his arms crossed over his chest as he smiled warmly for the camera. “I know where we can meet. Do your sons enjoy books?”
    Laurel laughed. “They like chewing on them and hitting each other with them. Does that count? Oh! I’ve heard about that new bookstore from my Mommy and Me group. With the dress-up stuff and the puppets, there’s a chance the twins might stay relatively calm.”
    “I’ll bring a large bottle of ether just in case,” Olivia murmured, sending Laurel into peals of laughter.
    The other members readily agreed to join them at the bookstore. Harris reminded Olivia that he only had an hour lunch break and then told her how he’d spent most of Sunday reading up on the Talbot family. Being savvier about Internet search protocol, he’d also been more successful than Olivia in retrieving background information on Blake Talbot. He hadn’t stopped with the youngest son, however, and was prepared to present biographic summaries on the entire family.
    Olivia called Millay last, and though the younger woman complained she’d normally still be abed at noon, she seemed anxious to discuss Camden’s chapters.
    “Will you have time to read them?” Olivia asked her. “Are you working tonight?”
    “Yeah, I’m here now. You can only hear me because I’m in the supply closet looking for toilet paper. Totally glam, huh?” She snorted. “But Mondays are slow. Between my breaks and the lulls that’ll come when the guys get too riled up over some stupid NASCAR race to drink, I’ll get it done.” Millay sounded determined. “Even if I have to stay up until dawn, I’ll be ready to contribute. And I’m going to see what I can weasel out of my regulars during my shift too. They’ll talk to me, especially if I don’t water down their whiskey as much as I usually do.”
    Olivia was impressed by Millay’s commitment. “That a girl,” she told the bartender. “And be careful.”
    Millay blew air out through her lips. “ Please . Those men would rather have sex with me than murder me and I don’t intend to let them do either. See you at noon and make sure there’s coffee. Lots of it.”
    Recalling Flynn’s unpalatable brew, Olivia frowned. “Don’t worry, I’ll bring a thermos.”
    “Then I’ll bring a flask,” Millay said and rang off, leaving Olivia to wonder if the young woman had been serious.
     
     
    Camden had written nearly one hundred pages of the book he had entitled The Tarnished Titans . The writing was fluid and filled with vivid imagery, but Olivia found the lack of chronology confusing. Chapter one described the sheltered childhood of the “Talcott” siblings, and just when Olivia felt as though she was developing a sense of each of the five family member’s personas, Camden focused chapter two solely on Don Talcott.
    Don, who was undoubtedly the titan referred to in the book’s title, was easily the most interesting character. Raised in a blue-collar Brooklyn home, the young man had gotten ahead by any means possible. After spending four years running errands in one of Manhattan’s premier investment firms while he took night classes toward a business degree, Don was finally awarded a desk and assigned the miserable task of cold calls. As luck would have it, the ambitious Talcott was a born salesman and his exceptional skill at “dialing for dollars” earned him the attention of the firm’s board of directors. Ten years later, he was one of them.
    Don married the beautiful Broadway sensation, Lana Alexander. At nineteen, Lana’s decision to become Mrs. Donald Talcott immediately resulted in the death of her career. Pregnant three times in less than five years, Lana remained secluded with her progeny behind the tall, ivy-covered fence surrounding their Long Island estate while Don paraded a host of