A Killer Plot (A Books by the Bay Mystery)

house to remind him of a southern beach, so I’m going to spend the morning collecting seashells and taking a billion photographs.”
    “You should visit the town’s new bookstore as well,” Olivia suggested. “The owner’s name is Flynn McNulty and he has some gorgeous coffee table books on Coastal Carolina with one-of-a-kind color plates.” She rose and snapped her fingers lightly. Haviland got to his feet, blinking sleepily, and leaned his head against her leg. Her hand automatically reached down and stroked the soft fur of his ear. “I’ll send one of my employees to pick you up at eight. Good luck with your research and if you do visit the bookstore, Through the Wardrobe, do not drink Mr. McNulty’s coffee.”
    Cosmo, who had stopped in the act of raising his coffee cup to his lips, paused. “Is there such a thing as bad coffee? If I can drink Starburnt I can drink anything.”
    “If you say so, but I felt it was my civic duty to warn you. See you tonight.” Olivia smiled and walked away.
     
     
    Olivia returned home to work on her latest chapter and to check on the soaking coin. She let Haviland loose in the yard and removed the penny from its vinegar-based solution. Scrubbing the remaining debris from the surface, she rinsed it off beneath a gentle flow of warm tap water. The penny felt slightly thicker between her fingers than a modern penny.
    Excited, Olivia grabbed a jeweler’s loupe from her desk drawer and moved to the window. Holding the coin beneath the magnifying tool, she could see the distinct profile of an Indian Head penny. Though the edges of the coin were well worn, the raised silhouette was in good shape. The native’s mouth hung open as though he was in a state of shock and his eye sockets seemed dark and haunted. Olivia traced the feathers of his headdress with her fingertip.
    “Eighteen sixty-three. So you were around to witness the War Between the States.” She turned the coin over, enjoying the feel of the aged copper and nickel.
    Closing the penny in her fist, a thought popped into her mind. She opened the pocket calendar she kept in her purse and flipped to the notes she’d taken after visiting the cemetery at the Neuse River Park the day before. The name Henry Bragg leapt from the page.
    “That’s why Jethro’s name sounded familiar!” she exclaimed as she noticed Haviland’s face at the deck door. She let him in without taking her eyes from the notebook. “Henry must be Jethro’s relative. And with Jethro being a veteran, I can understand why he’d feel passionate about the graveyard being disturbed.”
    Removing the lid of a jumbo pickle jar, Olivia dropped the coin and the shotgun shells inside. The metal objects clinked against the vintage razor case she’d collected a few weeks ago and the stainless watchband she’d found last time she and Haviland had ventured forth with the Bounty Hunter.
    Olivia stared unseeing at the trinkets. “Camden must have discovered something beyond the fact that Talbot Properties wants to build this housing development. He must have learned something about Blake Talbot’s dark business deal. But what? How does the park fit in? How does Jethro fit in?”
    Haviland whined and placed his front paws on the edge of Olivia’s writing desk, nudging the computer mouse with his nose.
    “You’re right, Captain Task Master. No more procrastinating. I’ll read Millay’s chapter before I work on my own if that’s suitable.”
    Sitting upright, Haviland stared at her expectantly. Olivia retrieved Millay’s document from the Bayside Book Writers file on the computer. Haviland cocked his ears as Olivia read aloud.
    “Tessa didn’t want to die.
    “She stood on the cliff edge, looking down at the surging sea. Her black hair wriggled free from its silk band and flowed out behind her like a pennant. The wind whipped at the voluminous skirts of her white Initiate gown, but Tessa was too frightened to feel the cold.
    “She was one of many. Two hundred Initiates would be pushed from the cliff top this dawn.
    “Most would meet their death in the freezing waters far below, their bloated bodies washing to shore hours or even days later.
    “Thirteen young girls would not die.
    “Thirteen young girls would fly.
    “ ‘It’s in your blood, lass,’ her nanny told her as she laced up the back of her white dress. ‘You are not destined to drown this day.’
    “Tessa could feel the rapid breathing of her Pusher. Standing a foot behind