A Killer Plot (A Books by the Bay Mystery)

asked.
    “A bratwurst,” Olivia answered shamefaced. She knew Diane disapproved of Haviland’s diet. “It wasn’t the sausage ... ?”
    “No.” Diane straightened but left one hand on the poodle’s flank. “His mouth smells like ground beef.”
    “Then someone else fed him that.” Olivia’s dark blue eyes blazed with a fierce anger. “Has Haviland ... ?” She could barely formulate the thought let alone speak it out loud. “Was he poisoned?”
    Diane hesitated and then shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. There’s no swelling, unusual redness around the eyes, ears, or skin, and no blistering in the mouth. I believe he’s ingested some kind of sedative. Let me run a few tests to make sure.” She turned away from her patient for a moment and touched Olivia’s shoulder. “Trust me. He’s going to be fine.”
    Olivia couldn’t see through the tears. “He’s got to be,” she whispered. “The Captain is ... half of my whole being.”
    The vet didn’t respond. She’d already turned her attention back to the poodle. She didn’t waste time asking Olivia to wait outside either, knowing full well she’d refuse.
    Exhausted, Olivia perched on the edge of the room’s only chair, watching every brisk and efficient move Diane made, but allowing the professional to work in silence. At some point, though she did not remember doing so, Olivia shut her eyes, leaned her head back against the wall, and fell into a light sleep.
    Diane woke her with a gentle squeeze on the shoulder. “Haviland is stable. I ran a blood test and found that he did ingest sedatives. Too much for his body weight, but not enough to be fatal. He needs to rest for several hours, but he should make a full recovery and be his charming self in a day or so.”
    Olivia pressed her hands over her eyes. “Thank you,” she murmured, too weary to infuse her words with the gratitude she felt.
    “You should go home and get some rest too,” Diane suggested kindly. “I’ll call you as soon as he’s awake.”
    “No. I won’t leave him.”
    Diane smiled. “I thought you’d say that.” She pointed at a door in the back of the room. “My office is through there. I’ve put a clean blanket and pillow on the sofa for you. You might as well sleep if you can. That’s all Haviland will be doing.”
    Nodding, Olivia walked over to Haviland and stroked the fur behind his right ear. She leaned over and kissed him on the forehead and then simply stood there, watching the reassuring rise and fall of his chest. When she finally sank down on the plaid couch in Diane’s office, something crinkled in her back pocket. She pulled out the small square of red paper.
    “You have hurt the wrong dog, you bastard,” she hissed. “I’m going to devote every resource, every thought, and every moment of my waking hours hunting you down.”
    She stared at the note until the typed words blurred into black, beetlelike smudges and the bright red of the paper became the color of vengeance.
     
     
    Olivia waited until six the next morning to call Rawlings. She’d slept a few fitful hours on Diane’s couch, but it had been enough to allow her to spend the rest of the day in action. She planned to scour the area surrounding the cottage as soon as the light allowed for a detailed search and she wanted the chief and his men on the job too.
    Rawlings listened to Olivia recall the events of the previous night and promised to be waiting in her driveway by the time she got home.
    “I don’t want you going inside until I check it out,” he ordered.
    Olivia complied, asked Diane’s assistant to call the moment Haviland woke up, and drove to Bagels ‘n’ Beans. She requested a coffee and a sesame seed bagel with butter for herself and then placed an order for coffee, pastries, and a lunch tray of assorted sandwiches to be sent to Diane’s office and to the Canine Cottage, the grooming business she owned as well.
    “Give them the works,” Olivia told Wheeler, handing him her Visa card. “Chips, cookies, sun tea, all of it. As a matter of fact, I’d like you to do this for them once a week for the rest of the month.”
    Wheeler scrutinized his customer’s bloodshot eyes and drawn face and then scanned the length of the store in search of Haviland. “He’s all right then?”
    “He will be,” Olivia replied, relieved Wheeler hadn’t asked what had happened. She didn’t want anyone to know that she and Haviland had become victims over the course of