Poisoned Prose (A Books by the Bay Mystery)

and I’ve never met a soul who could say no to her. This exposure will be so good for her already flourishing pageant career.”
    The woman beamed at Ashley-Grace who turned to Olivia wearing an angelic smile. “Good morning, ma’am. You look lovely today. Have you sampled our unbelievably refreshing lemonade? Did you know that every glass—”
    “Contains lemons,” Olivia interrupted. “I’m severely allergic to lemons,” she lied glibly. “And to most children.”
    Ashley-Grace’s mother turned bright pink with indignation, but Olivia ignored her. “Don’t be late, Laurel. Harris will look for us during the race. Good-bye, boys.”
    Dallas and Dermot were too busy giggling behind their hands to do anything but wave.
    Reaching out to scratch Haviland’s head, Olivia whispered, “Our work here is done.”
    Once again, the pair walked toward the sea of beach chairs and picnic blankets covering every inch of grass in the small park by the harbor. As soon as Olivia located the set of chairs Harris had set aside for the Bayside Book Writers, she took out a pair of binoculars and began to scan the boats lined up near the water’s edge for her friend.
    The captains in the junior race were steering their crafts to the starting buoys, and Olivia examined the vessels with amusement. For the most part, the boats created by the twelve- to eighteen-year-olds celebrated their hobbies and love of junk food. There were several skateboards, two boom boxes, a hot dog, a carton of French fries, three different candy bars, a cell phone, a horse, and a ballet slipper.
    As with the adult race, two young men or women meeting certain weight requirements manned the boats in the juvenile division. They were each allowed a single oar. No working sails or motors were permitted.
    Suddenly, a flesh-colored object obscured her view. Olivia lowered her binoculars to find Sawyer Rawlings standing in front of her. He was in uniform and cut a handsome figure, but Olivia also thought he looked hot and uncomfortable.
    “Do you ever wish you had seasonal uniforms?” she teased. “Navy for winter, white for summer.”
    “Everyone would confuse me for the ice cream man,” he said.
    She arched her brows. “Ice cream men carry handcuffs and handguns?”
    “Hey, we drive through the same neighborhoods. Besides, people would kill for something cold on a day like this.”
    “I can point you to the nearest lemonade stand,” she said as he dabbed his forehead with a handkerchief. Olivia found the fact that he carried a handkerchief most endearing. Rawlings was an intriguing blend of old-fashioned southern gentleman and liberal modern man. His workdays were spent apprehending criminals, reviewing cases, and balancing budgets while his free time was devoted to painting, reading poetry, writing his novel, and hanging out with his sister and her family or with Olivia and Haviland.
    Rawlings was about to speak when something caught his attention. Olivia turned to follow his gaze and saw that a teenage boy was poised at the top of a set of steps, ready to launch himself down. There was a sign reading “Skateboarding Prohibited” two feet from where he waited, the first two wheels of his board hovering in midair. The sidewalk at the bottom of the stairs wasn’t clear of pedestrians, and someone was bound to get hurt if the kid took the plunge. Before Olivia could speak, Rawlings was in motion.
    For a big man, the chief moved fast. He had the youth by the elbow before he could leave the ground. Olivia couldn’t hear what Rawlings said to him, but within seconds the boy was nodding deferentially. He then jogged down the stairs with his board tucked under his arm. Pausing at the bottom, he picked a wadded napkin off the ground, tossed it into the nearest trashcan, and turned to give Rawlings a brief wave.
    Olivia smiled. Only Rawlings could command such respect using gentle tones and a paternal hand on the shoulder.
    “He’s a catch, all right,” Laurel said, stealing up alongside of Olivia.
    Irritated by the heat creeping up her neck and cheeks, Olivia asked, “Where’d your trolls go?”
    “Steve’s parents are taking them for rest of the weekend, and they are going to have their hands full. The boys are completely hopped up on lemonade.” Laurel smiled and gazed out over the water. “The first race is going to start any minute now. Where’s Millay?”
    “I don’t know, but she’d better get a move on.” Olivia lifted her