A Killer Plot (A Books by the Bay Mystery)

young models, fresh-faced debutantes, and high-class prostitutes into New York’s chicest nightclubs and restaurants.
    The book’s next few chapters centered on the Talcott children. According to Camden’s claims, the two boys and one girl were reared primarily by a Hispanic nanny until they were old enough to be sent away to boarding school. Lana spent most of their childhood checking in and out of rehab centers in New York, Beverly Hills, Texas, and across Europe. The last chapter focused on Bradley and was the only chapter already read and critiqued by the Bayside Book Writers prior to Camden’s death.
    “There’s nothing specific about what kind of education Blake received,” Olivia said to Haviland as she pulled into a parking space across from the bookstore. “I was hoping to learn that the boy had written poetry since grammar school or something equally obvious. Maybe Harris can paint a more complete picture.”
    As she reached for the shop’s brass door handle, her cell phone rang.
    “It’s Annie Kraus. I thought you might have tried to reach Mr. Cosmo on his mobile. You see, he left it in the dining room and it plays a little song every time it rings, and since I just happened to see your number on the screen, I wanted you to know he’s all right.” She finally took a breath. “Well, he’s not exactly in good shape, but he’s here at the inn.”
    Olivia relaxed her outstretched arm. “Thank you. I’ve called him several times since yesterday afternoon but assumed he wanted some time alone so I let it be.”
    “He’s been sleeping most of the time away.” Annie sighed heavily. “The poor boy was completely done in what with the funeral home and then his trip to the police station.” She paused. “I’m afraid I didn’t do him any favors. I brought him a nice bottle of Merlot to go with his lamb chops. He polished that one off and asked for another to take to his room. I couldn’t refuse him—the sweet, sad, sad boy.”
    “A few hours of oblivion were probably a gift to him,” Olivia stated. “When he feels like himself again, tell him he can call me if he’d like a drink or a meal at The Boot Top.”
    “Will do,” Annie replied. “I’m going to brew some peppermint tea and slice up an apple and a banana. The fruit soaks up the alcohol and the tea gives the body back some of its pep. Mr. Cosmo will be right as rain by this afternoon. Nothing beats my mother’s magical hangover remedy.”
    “I’ll keep that recipe in mind.” Olivia said good-bye and stepped into the bookstore, where she immediately collided with Chief Rawlings. He automatically reached out and held on to her arm, as though she needed to be steadied. But Olivia hadn’t lost her balance and now the two stood, their chests centimeters apart, frozen for a moment. To Olivia, the chief’s touch and the proximity of their bodies became instantly intimate.
    Shocked by the realization that she felt completely at ease being so close to the lawman, Olivia immediately took a step back. She looked down at the chief’s hands, searching for evidence that he’d been shopping for books in the midst of a murder investigation.
    “I’m glad to run into you, Ms. Limoges.” Rawlings kept his tone formal, but his eyes appraised her warmly. With the full force of the midday sun illuminating his face, Olivia could see the lines on the chief’s forehead, like river symbols on a primitive map. Crinkles deepened the corners of his eyes, indicating he smiled easily and often. Olivia couldn’t help but wonder if he’d had any reason to express humor since Saturday night. Today, his eyes were less the brownish green of pond water and more like sun-dappled tidal pools.
    She broke eye contact. “This is hardly where I’d expect to find you, Chief,” she said stiffly, discomforted by the pleasure she’d taken in examining his features. Holding the door open for Haviland, she allowed the poodle to stand in front of her like a canine barricade.
    Rawlings made room for Haviland, his mouth curving into the shadow of a grin. Just as quickly as it had surfaced, the hint of amusement was gone. “I thought Mr. McNulty might be able to offer some enlightenment about our strange poem. I was able to find general information about haiku, but the deeper meaning of the spray-paint poem is making my head swim.” Frustration hardened the line of his lips. “Have you had any ideas?”
    Olivia shook her head. “I’m going to meet with my