A Killer Plot (A Books by the Bay Mystery)

or famous passengers whenever he can recognize them.” She paused, waiting for Olivia to sample her bacon. “Guess who flew in as early as the cock crows this morning?”
    “One of the Talbots?” Olivia deduced.
    Looking disappointed, Dixie scowled. “You’re no fun. How’d you know that?”
    “Our writing group has been researching the family. Dean likes to appear and soften up the locals prior to any vote that might influence one of his bigger projects. He’s got less than a week to butter up all the Planning Board members. I guess the Ocean Vista condos weren’t grand enough to get him down here,” Olivia remarked. “’ Course, we all approved that development in a flash. It was the first time somebody realized Oyster Bay was a real gem. Shows you how smart Talbot is. He decided to build before that Time article was ever written.”
    A ring sounded from the pick-up window and Grumpy’s quizzical eyes searched out his wife. Seeing her positioned for a good long chat, he pointed at the platters of food and then turned away to focus on his grill.
    “Be right back.” Dixie skated off to deliver tall stacks of pancakes to the patrons seated in the Phantom of the Opera booth. She whisked back to the kitchen, grabbed Olivia’s order and two stainless steel containers of warm pure maple syrup and, after depositing the first with the pancake eaters, returned to Olivia’s table.
    Easing the heavy porcelain platter onto the table, Dixie said, “Don’t see that Talbot’s got too much convincing to do on this project either. Grumpy and Roy are voting for the new development and you know damn well Ed Campbell is going to say aye. After all, he’ll be signing a load of new loans for the folks who want to buy those houses. Shoot, Ed’ll probably be made president of the bank before they finish pouring the first foundation.”
    Chewing on a piece of soft, cinnamon-laced French toast, Olivia silently agreed. “That leaves Marlene and me and whether the two of us have issues with the lack of green space or the displacement of wildlife doesn’t much matter, does it? Cottage Cove is going through. It only takes a majority to pass a proposal and the majority will vote in favor of this one.”
    Dixie chucked Olivia on the arm. “Don’t sound so down. Think of the treasures you could find when they start digging up the park land.”
    Olivia immediately envisioned the grumbling excavators as they crunched the soil with their metal teeth. Thinking of an excavator biting through the crumbing steps and collapsing the iron fence surrounding the tiny graveyard forced her to put her fork down.
    “How did you find out how Roy was going to vote so quickly?” she asked Dixie, hoping to expunge the image of the decimated burial site from her mind.
    The customers in the Cats booth were signaling Dixie for their check. She smiled and nodded at them but didn’t move. Turning back to Olivia as though she had all the time in the world, she leisurely continued their conversation. “Annie and Roy and that brother of his were parked right next to us last night. We couldn’t help but trade thoughts on the proposal.”
    “I met Atlas Kraus after the meeting as well. He seemed ... odd.” Olivia was fishing, hoping Dixie would reveal her take on the stranger. Olivia trusted her friend’s ability to read people.
    “Not odd. I can warm up to odd. I’m odd. You havin’ a dog for a best friend is odd. No offense, love.” She blew a kiss at Haviland. “Annie told me that her brother-in-law used to have a family of his own in Idaho or Iowa. Wife left him and took their kid to another state. Told him not to call or visit. Ever. Can you imagine? Anyhow, word is he hasn’t been the same since.” Dixie pulled a sympathetic face and began to skate away. Looking over her shoulder, she paused. “He’s got a damaged look to him, but maybe this town can heal him like it’s been healin’ you.”
     
     
    With Dixie’s words echoing in her head, Olivia left Grumpy’s and drove straight to The Yellow Lady. Cosmo waved to her from the front porch, looking refreshed and comfortable. He was seated in one of the cushioned wicker chairs and had his feet propped on a pillowed ottoman. He cradled a mug of coffee in both hands and a selection of newspapers sat on an end table nearby. A stack of eight-by-eleven typed papers rested on his lap.
    “Good morning, Goddess of the Carolina Coast.” Cosmo set down his coffee, clasped the papers