Poisoned Prose (A Books by the Bay Mystery)

Olivia wanted to be convinced by the shame she saw in his eyes, but she wasn’t willing to trust him completely. He’d have to tell her the truth about the treasure first.
    “She pointed at someone in the audience at the beginning of her performance,” Olivia said, unable to look at Dixie. “Did you recognize anyone in the crowd?”
    “Most of the other well-known North Carolina storytellers were there. They always came to watch her, to see what made her the best. Other than them, I only knew Dixie and Grumpy.”
    Olivia allowed herself to relax. “But Violetta didn’t know the Weavers, so she could have been gesturing at a fellow storyteller or another resident of Oyster Bay.”
    At that moment, Grumpy opened the door to the doublewide and jogged down the warped wooden steps. He was shirtless and barefoot, and carried a bulging garbage bag in each hand.
    “Olivia.” He dipped his chin in greeting and then disappeared around the back of his house. Haviland rose, stretched, and followed Grumpy, undoubtedly hoping he’d be offered something to eat.
    Lowell watched the poodle until he was gone from view and then turned to Olivia. “Violetta never met Dixie, but she knows Grumpy. At least she used to.”
    Olivia was stunned into silence.
    “It’s no big thing,” Dixie was quick to add. “His family lived in the next town from hers. They went to the same church growin’ up. But he joined the army at nineteen and didn’t go back to visit much. She might have known him when he was a boy, but that’s all.”
    “Why didn’t you tell me this before?” Olivia asked.
    “I didn’t know,” Dixie mumbled. “Not ’til we got to the show. Grumpy said somethin’ about how long it had been since he’d seen Violetta. You know I get jealous right quick, so he didn’t say anything about it until we pulled into the library lot. That’s why we were late. I was askin’ him all about her, but he didn’t have much to say, and we had a bit of a fight.”
    Olivia nodded. “Okay, but the chief needs to know these details. And Lowell? For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re responsible for Violetta’s death.”
    “I told you—” Dixie began.
    “But I know you’re not telling me the whole story either. If someone’s after you, there has to be a reason why.” She spoke as gently as she could, leaning toward Lowell in a conspiratorial manner. “What would motivate someone to track you down? Revenge? Blackmail? Do you possess valuable information?” Lowell’s face immediately closed off, and Olivia raised her hands in surrender. “You don’t have to confide in me. Just trust me when I say that Chief Rawlings is a good man. He won’t string you up because you ran. He will listen without passing judgment.”
    Lowell laughed derisively. “I’m not going to tell some cop that I’m being hunted. Or what I saw the night Hicks died. I’m not talking to anyone. I’m done talking.” He turned to Dixie, his fists clenched in anger. “I could have been miles away by now.”
    While he’d been speaking, Grumpy had reemerged from around the corner of the house and come up behind their group of chairs. He towered over Lowell, his long shadow falling across the dwarf’s face. “You owe Violetta,” he said simply. “She took a chance on you. Now you’ve got to repay her by doing what you can to help find her killer. You know who her friends are. Who her enemies are. No one else here does. Call the chief. And if you don’t, I will.”
    Lowell shot Dixie a dirty look, and Grumpy stepped in front of his wife. “Don’t go making this about Dixie. You owe Violetta, Lowell. Now do what needs to be done.”
    Olivia had never heard Grumpy string that many sentences together at once. He stood, his muscular arms crossed over his chest, his bare skin glistening with sweat, and glowered at Lowell. To Olivia, he looked like a tattooed Goliath.
    “When they toss me back in the slammer, it’s on you,” Lowell snapped, slid off his chair, and waddled away.
    Without another word, Grumpy walked off in the opposite direction, leaving Olivia and Dixie alone.
    “I don’t think I made things any easier,” Olivia said by way of apology. “And to be honest, I’m concerned about what happened to Hicks. If he was murdered because of some connection he had to Violetta Devereaux, then Lowell’s fears might be justified. Though she was not strangled by a ghost.”
    Dixie looked miserable. “I can’t have ghosts or