A Killer Plot (A Books by the Bay Mystery)

had been styled into high pigtails and she held a Blow Pop in one hand.
    Dixie noticed Olivia’s appraisal. “I’m channelin’ Britney Spears’s first video. You probably never saw it, but that’s because you don’t have teenage boys. I can lip-synch the whole thing and Grumpy loves me in this outfit. Can you spot him in this herd?”
    Scanning the crowd, Olivia noticed Annie Kraus and her husband Roy in the second row. The B&B proprietors smiled in greeting. Olivia waved her hand briefly, her gaze drawn to the man sitting next to Roy. His appearance was similar to Roy’s as both men were tall and lean with dark hair and eyes, and Olivia assumed the man was likely Roy’s brother. But while Roy’s face was rounded by rich foods, his brother’s was gaunt and more weathered, like those of the fishermen in the room. His lips were drawn together and an unpleasant thought seemed to have settled between his creased brows.
    Tearing her gaze from the discomfiting visage of the stranger, Olivia spotted Grumpy toward the back, a few rows shy of the rear wall and the enormous painting of Blackbeard standing at the prow of his ship, Queen Anne’s Revenge. Blackbeard, also known as Edward Thatch or Edward Teach, was an unusual personage to choose when selecting the name for a middle school, but Olivia liked the choice. She imagined that children caught between childhood and young adulthood could identify with the romanticized version of Blackbeard’s life, which elevated his supposed skill, smarts, and wiliness to legendary heights. To these confused and insecure youths, the rebellious nature of the eighteenth-century pirate, who plundered from North Carolina to the Caribbean and had rousing parties with fellow buccaneer Charles Vane along the banks of the Pamlico, was cause for idolization.
    “He’s up there.” Olivia showed Dixie where her husband was seated.
    Dixie scowled. “Now how does he expect me to climb up all these damned stairs with my skates on!” She sighed. “Men. Thick as mules, I swear.”
    Following Dixie was a slow process. She’d stop every few aisles in order to chat with the person seated at the end of each row and only hurried when Mayor Guthrie picked up a handheld microphone and called the meeting to order. He rapped on the podium with a wooden gavel and then quickly stepped aside to allow one of the local ministers to recite an opening prayer. By the time the audience bowed their heads, Dixie and Olivia had finally taken their seats.
    After the Pledge of Allegiance, Oyster Bay’s portly mayor called for the minutes of prior meetings to be approved and the townsfolk settled down for a long wait. After completing mundane business such as passing a proposal for a universal speed limit within the downtown area, voting on the budget for mosquito and litter control, salary increases for certain town employees, and a review of the maintenance contract for the parking lots serving the public beaches, the committee members were ready to discuss the final proposition of the evening.
    It had taken an hour and a half to get to the agenda item of interest. During that time, in which the townsfolk coughed, fidgeted, cracked gum, knitted, snacked on beef jerky or hard candies, and muttered softly to one another, Olivia had noticed a man carrying a laptop slip into the auditorium wearing an expensive tailored suit and a politician smile.
    Committeeman Earl Johnson rose to his feet. A hush fell over the crowd as he took the microphone from the mayor. A good-looking man in his mid-fifties, Earl owned the marina and the general store supplying the rising numbers of boaters stopping overnight in Oyster Bay’s sheltered cove. Genuinely liked by almost everyone in town, Talbot Properties had won the right man to their side. And since Earl was the person putting forth the proposal for a vote, Olivia wondered if the marina would soon be expanding.
    Earl smiled as he tapped on the microphone and then stuck one hand in his pocket. His casual dress and posturing seemed to relieve some of the apprehension in the air, but the sheen of perspiration on his brow gave away how important the proposal was to the committeeman.
    “As many of you know, our little town has been experiencing quite a growth spurt. Time magazine put us on the map and now people want to vacation here, live here, and start businesses here.” He held out his arms in a brief shrug. “I know change isn’t always neat and tidy and isn’t