Poisoned Prose (A Books by the Bay Mystery)

Olivia guessed her niece was eager to get home, to fly down the hallway into her room, and spend the rest of the day reading in the pink beanbag chair Olivia had given her for her birthday. Olivia had had a special reading place when she was a girl too. She liked to sneak a book up the lighthouse stairs and through the door outside to the balcony. There was a full-time lighthouse keeper back then, and he’d reprimanded her once or twice, but after a while, he pretended not to notice the skinny child with the freckles and large sea-blue eyes. After all, she didn’t say much—just smiled shyly and then buried her face in her book.
    “Ready?” the cashier asked, recalling Olivia to the present.
    “You caught me gathering wool.” With an apologetic smile, Olivia placed the books on the counter and turned to Millay. “What about Fish Nets?”
    “I’ll tell my boss I’m sick,” she said. “The guy I split my shifts with needs the money, and I only blow off work when something really important comes up. Some lies are necessary.”
    Olivia accepted the bag of books from the cashier and handed them to her niece. Caitlyn thanked her, kissed her on the cheek, and went to show her mother her new acquisitions. Olivia led Millay to the corner where the free coffee station had been placed. Ignoring Flynn’s watery bookshop blend, she touched Millay on the arm. “We all tell lies, but there are times when the truth is best.” She lowered her voice. “I talked with Harris last night and he is miserable. I’m not trying to interfere, but one woman to another, it’s time to fish or cut bait.”
    A shadow crossed Millay’s face. “What’s going on between me and Harris is more complicated than a fishing metaphor.”
    “Crossroads always are,” Olivia agreed. “Trust me, I’m standing at one myself. And I don’t like it at all. I was perfectly content with the road I was on.”
    “Well, that’s better than anyplace I’ve ever been. Contentment sounds pretty nice.” Millay picked up a plastic coffee stirrer and twisted it between her fingers. “I’m never happy for long. I don’t know why. I just can’t seem to hang on to anything good.”
    Olivia didn’t know what to say to that, so she remained silent. Laurel signaled to them from the back of the line, and they joined her while she tried to wrestle a 3-D pirate bookmark from Dermot’s hand.
    “Should we hang around?” she asked. “See if anything happens?”
    Olivia shook her head. “It’s not like the storytellers will show their true colors in front of this crowd. Besides, I expect Rawlings or one of his men to show up any minute now.”
    Laurel tried to get the bookmark away from Dermot again, but the little boy was too quick.
    “Guess what I heard when I was paying for my books?” Olivia whispered theatrically, and Dermot stopped wriggling long enough to listen. “I heard that any child who doesn’t listen to his mother won’t get one of the really cool masks they’re giving away. You can pick the calm wolf or the angry wolf. Which one would you choose, Dermot?”
    Instead of replying, Dermot sprinted to the bookmark spinner, returned the 3-D pirate bookmark to its proper spot, and stood straight as an arrow at Laurel’s side.
    “I didn’t realize you were the Child Whisperer,” Laurel teased. She gestured to where Steve was trying to get Dallas to clean up the pile of books he’d strewn across the floor. “Want to work another miracle?” She kissed Dermot on top of his head. “Go tell your brother about the mask.”
    He ran to the next room and grabbed his twin by the straps of his overalls. Dallas was about to protest when Dermot pointed at the storyteller’s table. After a long pause, in which Dallas seemed to be weighing whether he’d rather have a mask or further annoy his father, he picked up the books.
    The twins were the last in line to meet Amabel and Greg, and Laurel let them rush off to show Steve their masks before shaking the storytellers’ hands and showering them with compliments. They spoke with her warmly enough, but the moment she walked away, Amabel’s eyes followed her distrustfully. Greg couldn’t stop shooting lecherous glances at Millay.
    “As if he’d ever have a shot,” Millay said under her breath. “I’m cool with older guys, but not older guys who are thinking X-rated thoughts in a room full of kids. That’s just nasty.”
    The two women tarried by a set of shelves filled with Outer Banks