Poisoned Prose (A Books by the Bay Mystery)

romantic gesture. He almost won with a boat he built in his girlfriend’s honor, and then it burned and sank. Poor Harris. I can’t even imagine what he’s feeling right now.”
    Olivia stared out at the water, “He probably believes that everything was riding on that race and he blew it. Actually, it was already too late, but he doesn’t know that yet.” Before Laurel could ask what she meant, Olivia folded up her chair and gestured toward the dock. “Come on, let’s wrap our boy in a towel and take him home.”
    • • •
    Supper at The Bayside Crab House was a subdued affair. Millay was a no-show. She texted Harris to make sure he wasn’t hurt and then asked him to save her a seat at the storytelling event later that evening.
    For his part, Harris was unusually sullen. Despite the fact that people kept stopping by their table to congratulate him on the most exciting and theatrical race in the history of the regatta, he was unable to recover his sense of humor. Strangers bought him drinks and asked to be photographed with him. A pretty young woman even begged him to sign her bare shoulder with a black marker, but he still remained moody and taciturn.
    “Miss Violetta will help you forget about today,” Laurel assured him after the woman had run off to show her friends Harris’s signature. “That’s what she does. Transports people with her stories.”
    Harris produced a small smile for Laurel’s benefit. “I hope she’s as good as you claim, because I’m really not in the mood for ‘once upon a times’ tonight.”
    Though she felt sorry for her friend, Olivia had been anticipating the storytelling event far more than any of the rest of the day’s activities. She wanted to get to the library at least thirty minutes early in order to secure front row seats, but Rawlings, who’d just finished his shift at five, wanted to savor a platter of crab legs and a cold beer. Admonishing her to relax, he cracked his first crab claw with gusto.
    Foiled, Olivia called the head librarian, an old friend of her mother’s, and asked her to reserve five seats. Leona Fairchild had known Olivia since she was a baby and was more than happy to oblige, thus allowing Olivia to enjoy her meal of flounder in a lemon-garlic butter sauce with a side of steamed rice and green beans almondine.
    When the four friends arrived at the library, Millay was waiting in the lobby. She slugged Harris on the arm and praised him for not going down without a fight. He was smiling and making jokes about his sunken boat by the time Leona escorted them into the conference room.
    The room, an unremarkable space filled with rows of gray chairs and a stage area with a lectern and a retractable projector screen, had been transformed. The overhead lights had been dimmed, and Olivia thought the soft, white orbs looked like dozens of small, glowing moons. The stage was dark and empty, save for two wooden chairs. These had woven cane seats and Shaker-style backs and appeared handmade.
    Olivia and her friends took their seats and spent the next ten minutes whispering to one another. For some reason, the presence of the vacant chairs had them speaking in low, hushed tones, though Olivia wasn’t sure why.
    Other attendees entered and sat down. They too were quiet and subdued.
    “How can a pair of chairs create atmosphere?” Olivia asked Rawlings.
    He thought for a moment. “There’s an air of mystery in here. The dim lights, the old chairs, the anticipation. It makes me feel like a kid. Remember what it was like to sit in a movie theater in those long seconds before the projectionist began playing the film reel? Every part of me was tuned into that screen.”
    Olivia nodded. “Those chairs are our movie screen. And we have no idea what we’ve come to see.” She noticed Dixie skating to an empty seat near the end of the row in the middle of the room and waved at her. Dixie tossed a phonebook on the chair, climbed onto it, and blew Olivia a kiss before curling her short legs inward to allow Grumpy to scoot past.
    Grumpy’s was the last available seat, and once he’d settled into it, the audience grew nearly silent. People looked at the stage, over their shoulders, and at one another. Their faces were filled with curiosity and nervous excitement.
    These feelings heightened until, finally, a dwarf stepped onto the stage. He moved slowly, using both hands to drag a large trunk from one end to the other. When he reached his destination, he