Poisoned Prose (A Books by the Bay Mystery)

those unless a distant relative worked at the mint.”
    “We’ll have to look into the closest branches on her family tree—get a picture of her parents and sisters—but I don’t have the time or the men to spare investigating beyond that. There were more than the Denver and Philadelphia mints at one point, weren’t there?”
    Olivia turned back to the computer for an answer. “Washington, DC, Carson City, San Francisco, West Point. And we have no idea where Violetta’s grandparents or great-grandparents were from. I’m sure Harris could be persuaded to trace her lineage. If the coins are the motive, then the Devereauxes must have owned a handful of Liberty Busts or Morgan Silver Dollars minted in a particular year. Those coins are worth over two grand apiece.” She shook her head in disbelief. “If they truly owned something this valuable, why wouldn’t they spend it?”
    Rawlings grew thoughtful. “I have no idea. Forty or fifty thousand dollars is a huge sum of money to people living in poverty. But a tenured professor? Would he venture up a mountain at night for that kind of money? Based on a tall tale?”
    “I don’t know,” Olivia admitted. “I still don’t believe that Hicks waited for darkness because he wanted to relive Violetta’s story. For some reason, he needed secrecy. I’d bet my house that he offered Lowell and this Dewey Whitt fellow money or a share of the spoils if they agreed to accompany him.” Warming to her subject, Olivia touched Rawlings on the knee. “Think about it. Lowell had a criminal record. He was a professional thief, but he was no outdoorsman. He and Hicks needed a local. What do you have on Whitt?”
    “As of this point, very little.” The chief put the file down and took off his reading glasses again. He curled his fingers around Olivia’s hand. “It’s getting late. I can’t focus anymore.”
    “I’m going to make two calls before we turn in,” Olivia said. “I’ll have Harris search the genealogy sites and I thought I’d ask Grumpy to talk to his parents about Violetta’s family. You and your team can cover the facts and statistics while—”
    “His people will provide the gossip.” He smiled. “It’s a good idea. There are always little seeds of truth in the stories people tell about each other. I need to know Violetta’s story. She’s a complete stranger to me at this point, but somewhere between the hard, raw data and the memories of those who knew her lies the truth.”
    Olivia considered this statement as she walked to the kitchen. She’d burned the copy of her birth certificate that her mother had hidden in a safety deposit box, but that action couldn’t permanently erase the record of her parentage. Those facts, unrelenting and irrevocable, were available through the state’s vital records database. And though Olivia planned to conceal the truth in order to protect her relationship with Hudson and his wife and children, it existed all the same. It was out there, waiting to be found should anyone care to look for it.
    With a sigh, Olivia dialed Dixie’s number, her hand tracing the wrinkled edge of a painting her niece had made for her in May. It showed a park bench positioned in the center of a garden filled with dozens of flowers. Caitlyn had painted herself flying a kite in the background, a smiling Haviland at her side, while Olivia read a book on the bench. The kite strings wound across the upper half of the painting, loop-de-looping through fluffy white clouds and golden sunrays. Butterflies hovered over the flower petals, and one had landed on the pages of Olivia’s open book. Caitlyn had written, “The Perfect Day” in her little girl block lettering along the top edge.
    “You all right?” Dixie said when she answered the phone. “It’s late for you to be callin’.”
    “I’m sorry to bother you, but the chief needs some help with Violetta’s case.”
    Normally, Dixie would jump at the chance to be in the middle of a police investigation, but this one was too close to home. After a pregnant pause, she said, “What can I do?”
    “Actually, it’s Grumpy we need, but I have a feeling you’ll have a better chance of convincing him to get involved than I will.”
    Dixie snorted. “I wouldn’t be too sure of that. He’s real unhappy about Lowell stayin’ here.”
    Olivia could understand Grumpy’s reservations. Like her, he probably sensed that Lowell knew more than he’d admit to about Hicks’s death