Poisoned Prose (A Books by the Bay Mystery)

I’ll spend the afternoon at The Boot Top, and then I’m meeting with the Bayside Book Writers to go over the words you found in Lowell’s pocket. That is, if you still need us to work on those?” She couldn’t prevent a touch of petulance from entering her tone. No matter how much she cared for Rawlings, she didn’t like being told what to do.
    “Yes, please keep working on the word list. We haven’t been able to make heads or tails of it, and though I can’t explain why, I believe it’s important.” He paused. “Look, Olivia, I know you’re cross because I’m asking you to stay put, but this town has suffered enough losses lately.” He fell silent for a long moment and then continued, “I’ve lost enough already. And so have you. I just want to try to hold on to what we have. It’s my . . . our . . .”
    “Our treasure,” she finished for him.
    Rawlings released a gratified sigh. “Yes. That’s why I want us to live together. And since you said what you just said, you can damn well expect me to raise the subject again as soon as this case is closed. But for now, I need to go.”
    Smiling a little over the tenderness permeating Rawlings’ warning, Olivia murmured a good-bye and ended the call. She sat in the car for a moment, gazing at The Yellow Lady’s grounds. Even in the midsummer months, when the heat and humidity were at their worst, the inn’s gardens were usually a riot of colorful blooms. Not anymore. The drought-resistant flowers were wilted, their stalks and leaves edged with yellow and brown, their blooms stunted and sparse. Olivia reflected on what Rawlings had said about restlessness. He might have been describing the suspects, but it was how she felt as well. And when she thought about Dixie and the Bayside Book Writers, the word seemed to apply to them too.
    “We need a storm,” she said to Haviland. “Something to break the stillness.”
    Haviland thrust his head out the window and then looked back at her. Olivia knew that he wanted her to start driving so that the air would rush up his nostrils and into his mouth, introducing dozens of exciting smells and filling him with a sense of euphoria.
    “I’m going. I’m going.” Olivia turned the engine on and buckled Haviland’s canine seat belt. “You’re an addict. A scent addict.”
    The moment the car began to move, Haviland’s tail started wagging, and his tongue lolled from the side of his mouth. Olivia smiled at him. “I’m glad one of us can be carefree.”
    Olivia headed to The Boot Top where she whiled away two hours answering e-mails and discussing menu details with Michel. During that time, she exchanged a flurry of texts with Millay, Harris, and Laurel. At Laurel’s insistence the group agreed to meet at Decadence.
    “I need chocolate. And to be home for the boys’ bedtime,” she said in a message.
    Olivia read the text aloud and grimaced. “Milkshakes at five thirty? Ick. That’s my cocktail time. What am I supposed to do?” she asked Haviland. “Eat a pound of whiskey-infused truffles?”
    Someone rapped on the office door, and Haviland jumped to his feet, his brown eyes shining. Olivia knew the poodle was hoping to receive treats from Michel or the sous-chefs.
    “
C’est moi
,” Michel announced and entered. Leaning against the wall, he drew in a deep, theatrical breath, and released it. “I need to talk to you about diamonds.”
    Olivia gave a start. Ever since Toby had compared the making of a fulgurite with the creation of a diamond, she’d been devoting a great deal of thought to the precious stones. “Why?” she asked Michel.
    “I’m going to ask Shelley to marry me,” he said, his cheeks pink with joy. Before Olivia could speak, he held out his hands. “I know you’re going to say that we haven’t been together long enough, but you have to remember that she and I have history. It doesn’t matter that I fell in love with her in culinary school twenty years ago. What matters is that I never fell
out
of love with her.”
    “Michel. You’ve fallen in and out of love with dozens of women,” Olivia pointed out gently. “I’m not trying to put a damper on your plans. I just want you to be sure. Marriage is an institution based on monogamy. You’re taking an oath to be with
one
woman for the rest of your life. Are you ready to make that pledge?”
    Michel nodded vigorously. “
Oui!
In the past, I went for unavailable women. I think I deliberately chose unsuitable partners