Poisoned Prose (A Books by the Bay Mystery)

with a list of typed words. It’s incomplete because it’s been torn, but I’ve sent you a text of the four we have to see if they mean anything to you or to your guests. Call me before you head home.”
    Clicking on her text message icon, Olivia read the words, “silver, moonlight, stones, and heart.”
    Easing back into the supple leather of the desk chair, she kicked off her shoes and put her bare feet on the blotter. She spoke the four words aloud, repeating them over and over, but the only image they called to mind was of the moonlit night Lowell had described. The one in which Alfred Hicks had been pushed to his death. Closing her eyes, she saw the silver-blue snow blanketing the pine trees, and the moon casting shadows on the sharp outcrops of rock.
    Unable to think of anything useful, Olivia forwarded the words to the rest of the Bayside Book Writers and asked them to recall if they’d heard them during Violetta’s performance. She ended her message by suggesting that they meet tomorrow after Laurel and Harris were done with work.
    “I doubt Harris or Millay will even notice my text. Not tonight anyway,” she said to Haviland and drained her glass.
    Since she hadn’t eaten dinner, she headed to the kitchen and watched as Hudson prepared her a filet of tilapia in lemon-garlic sauce. He served the fish with a side of asparagus risotto and steamed vegetables.
    “And here’s a piece of salmon for Haviland,” Hudson said, offering her a plate. “Now get out of my kitchen. I’ve got too many orders to fill. If I stand here talking to you, I’ll fall behind.” He pretended to swat at her with his dish towel.
    Olivia thanked him and carried the meals back to the manager’s office. As she ate, she stared at the words Rawlings had sent and reflected on what she needed to tell him before the night was through.
    On her way out, Olivia peered into the bar and saw that Millay and Harris were still sitting together. They weren’t talking. Each of them seemed lost in their own thoughts. Though they sat inches apart, Olivia could sense the chasm that had opened between them, and she felt a deep sadness wash over her. Their little group was about to be irrevocably changed.
    Dejected, she called Rawlings and was unsurprised when she reached his voicemail.
    “I’m going home,” she said. “Come over whenever you’re done. It doesn’t matter how late. Just come.”
    During the drive home, she pushed away thoughts of Millay and Harris and concentrated on Flynn. Had he been the man in Violetta’s room Thursday night? Had she heard him correctly when he’d said that he loved Violetta? Did he have it in him to commit murder? To put a bag over Violetta’s head and wrap something around her neck as she clawed at him with her gloved fingers?
    Olivia was so caught up in this image that she didn’t immediately notice the car parked in her driveway. Because she recognized the car, she was disturbed to see it at her house. It belonged to Flynn.
    As if her thoughts had conjured up the man, there he was, sitting on the steps leading to her back door. His elbows were propped on his knees and his eyes were dark hollows.
    “You shouldn’t be driving after all you’ve had to drink,” she chided as she got out of the Range Rover, encouraging Haviland to walk in front of her.
    Haviland approached Flynn warily, and Olivia let him take the lead. Every part of her was tensed for action. She’d never considered Flynn a violent person. Only a few days ago, the notion would have made her laugh. Not anymore. She didn’t know the man sitting on her steps. Even Haviland behaved as if he were a stranger.
    “You and I worked because we didn’t go probing each other’s wounds,” he said softly, holding out his hand, palm up, for Haviland to sniff. “I knew you’d been dealt a bad hand, but I didn’t want to hear the details. And what was the point of telling you that I was incapable of love? That I didn’t have a heart to give away?”
    “Because you’d already surrendered it to Violetta Devereaux?” Olivia asked. She stood just out of his reach, keeping Haviland between them.
    Flynn didn’t answer. He sifted through the dirt for pebbles and flung them one by one into the dry grass.
    “How long ago was this? When you worked for Dexter Pharmaceuticals?”
    Flynn lifted his gaze. “I see the chief has been talking about me. I guess I should be flattered.”
    Olivia sighed. “Aren’t you here because you want to