Poisoned Prose (A Books by the Bay Mystery)

hands through his ginger-colored hair. “Well, if the bad guy isn’t Dewey, then who stole the professor’s research?”
    “The same person who came to Oyster Bay to get answers from Violetta,” Olivia said. “Someone who couldn’t solve the riddles the way Hicks did.” She put a hand on the chief’s arm. “I know the last thing you need is another fly in the ointment, but Flynn’s also from the mountains. He said so at the children’s program at Through the Wardrobe.” She went on to describe the odd exchange she’d observed between Flynn and Amabel as she was leaving the bookstore.
    Rawlings took a few notes and then got to his feet. “I need to get back to work. I only stopped by to spend a little time with you, Olivia.” He smiled at Harris. “Having you here was a bonus. Being able to bounce ideas off both of you has given me fresh insight. Do me a favor, Harris, and put that massive brain to work on behalf of the citizens of Oyster Bay. Find me some details on the Devereaux family’s heritage, no matter how small.”
    “I already tracked down a few things,” Harris said with false modesty. “I can tell you about them on our way out.”
    “Good man. Thanks for the meal and the company.” Rawlings leaned over and gave Olivia a peck on the cheek. He then ruffled the fur on Haviland’s neck and strode from the cottage. Harris collected his things, waved to Olivia, and followed him.
    Olivia cleaned up after their meal and walked back to her house. Feeling restless, she paced around the ground floor. The rooms felt empty all of a sudden. They had never felt empty before.
    I wish Rawlings had stayed
, she thought.
I wish we could sit together and talk until we were both too tired to think. I wish I could fall asleep to the sound of his breaths.
    Taking a notepad and a fresh cocktail out to the deck, she stood at the railing as Haviland trotted over the dunes. The sun had lost some of its intensity, and a low bank of clouds was moving in from the Atlantic at a sluggish pace.
    “Could we actually see rain?” she asked the ocean and sniffed the air. It smelled gritty and dry. “Something’s got to give,” she said darkly, wondering if she’d been talking about the weather or the investigation.
    Uncapping her pen, she wrote a list of names on the paper:
Amabel, Lowell, Flynn, Greg, Dewey
and then added the word,
Motive
.
    She couldn’t think of any reason for Flynn to kill Violetta, so she moved on to Lowell. Money was the most obvious motive, but why would he wait until Violetta was in Oyster Bay to murder her? It made no sense. Perhaps Amabel or Greg was guilty. Maybe they’d chosen this place solely because it was where the retreat was being held. But what of Dewey? Was he really on a fishing trip or was he here? In Oyster Bay?
    “Violetta called it her Gethsemane.” Olivia set her notepad down and went inside to fetch her mother’s Bible. After examining the index, she turned to the fourteenth chapter of the Book of Mark and skimmed to verse thirty-two. Twilight descended as she found the verses about Jesus in the garden. Tracking the red font with her index finger, she read his prayers and the words he spoke to his disciples. She said the last line of the passage aloud: “‘Here comes my betrayer!’”
    Closing the Bible, she stroked the soft leather cover and stared out at the horizon.
    “People don’t usually betray strangers,” she mused quietly. “In order to betray someone, the person you betray has to trust you. There has to be an existing relationship between the two of you.” She thought of Judas’s kiss. “You may even love each other.”
    Something about the Biblical passage evoked an image of Violetta onstage, the blue light shining around her head like a crown of glowing stars. Olivia recalled the power and majesty of her voice and her incredible ability to transport her listeners directly into her stories.
    “Who did you love, Violetta? Who did you trust? Who came to kiss you on the cheek before killing you?” Olivia’s questions floated away on the dry air.
    Far off in the distance, lightning flashed over the water. Olivia saw Haviland abruptly raise his nose and then turn back toward home. When he reached the deck, he gave a vigorous shake of his fur and then pawed at the mat, asking to be let inside.
    Olivia slid the door open but did not follow him into the house. She sat on the deck, witnessing a storm gather far offshore. Unfortunately, it was too far