Poisoned Prose (A Books by the Bay Mystery)

tried to force her simmering fury down the drain with the dirt and the dust, but it clung to her like a second skin. She dressed in a gauzy white skirt and a low-cut silk top the color of persimmons, and practiced her smile in the mirror. Though her mouth curved upward and her teeth showed, the smile never reached her eyes.
    “It’ll have to do,” she told her reflection. “For once in your life, you need to be charming.”
    Just before leaving, she made a call to Fred Yoder. Though she hadn’t known the antique dealer long, she trusted him implicitly. She also wanted another person present who could help her figure out if Violetta’s treasure was real or fictional. Fred had heard dozens of stories about hidden valuables, and she sensed that he’d be better able to tell if Violetta’s grandfather had brought something with him from New York or if Violetta had merely been spinning another tale. That is if any of the other storytellers knew more about the mystery of the treasure than she did. Like Amabel, for instance.
    “I thought Violetta’s performance was spellbinding,” she explained to Fred after they’d exchanged pleasantries. “But to some of the other storytellers, and perhaps even to her sister, she used her talent to bend people to her will.”
    “Isn’t that what all skillful entertainers do?” Fred asked with a laugh. “In any case, I’d be glad to help. I haven’t had much luck coming up with an obvious answer as to what the Devereaux family treasure could be, but my best guess is that it’s rare coins, stamps, or jewelry. Loose gemstones perhaps. Something portable and easy to hide.”
    Once again, Olivia thought about Violetta’s prop trunk. She wondered if Rawlings had had one of his men examine its interior. Fred would have proved useful in that regard as well. When he sat down next to her at the bar at The Bayside Crab House, she told him about her theory, and he immediately shared several anecdotes about finding secret niches in furniture, boxes, and canes.
    “You said that the trunk has a domed lid and was lined with some sort of velvet fabric, right?” When Olivia nodded, Fred grew more animated. “Many of the old steamer trunks were lined with paper. If the material you saw was in really good condition, then chances are it’s not the original lining.”
    Olivia thought back on what she’d seen. “It was a deep blue velvet. The same color as Violetta’s eyes.”
    “Then it’s probably newer than the trunk itself,” Fred said and smiled as Millay came over to take their order.
    Fred asked for a beer on tap, and Olivia requested a glass of Perrier. “But make it look like a gin and tonic. I have to appear to be boozing it up.” She glanced up as a group of people approached the hostess stand. “Ah, the storytellers have arrived. Time for me to relocate to a table. Fred, I’ll ask you to join us after they’ve had a couple of drinks. When we’re ready to raise the topic of treasure, I’ll pull up a chair for you.”
    Fred gave her a little salute. “Until then, I’ll be happily watching the baseball game and enjoying this excellent microbrew.”
    “Look. Rapson’s with them,” Millay muttered to Olivia, her gaze locked on the storytellers. “If he’s the one who went after Lowell, then he’s got stones of steel coming here for booze and crab legs a few hours later.”
    Fred raised his brows. “Stones of steel?”
    “Millay has a way with words,” Olivia quipped, pasted on her best smile, and went to greet her guests.
    Altogether, there were six of them. Olivia recognized Amabel and Greg, and during the short walk to their table, she learned that the woman who’d worn the turquoise caftan to Violetta’s performance was named Sue. She worked at an animal shelter and was the mother of three. The man who’d held the carved walking stick that same evening was a dental hygienist from Florida. He’d never met Violetta before this retreat, and his eyes filled with tears when Olivia mentioned her.
    “She was amazing,” he said after a waitress served him a drink. “Let’s raise our glasses to Violetta Devereaux!”
    Olivia watched the rest of the group as they lifted tumblers or martini and margarita glasses. Amabel’s mouth was pinched at the corners, and Greg’s eyes were veiled and impenetrable. Both Sue and Kenneth, the dental hygienist, wore solemn expressions. The other woman, who introduced herself as Mariah and reeked of marijuana, swayed in