Poisoned Prose (A Books by the Bay Mystery)

Harris said.
    Laurel sighed. “I’d like to try to talk you out of this, but I have to go home.” She leaned over and kissed Harris on the cheek. “No matter what you do, Harris Williams, know that your friends are in Oyster Bay. This group and my family are what make this town my home. So you go have your little adventure, but then you come home, you hear me?”
    “Yes, ma’am.” Harris saluted Laurel. She left, wiping her eyes, and Harris gathered his things. “I’ll keep looking into the genealogical stuff,” he said to Olivia. “And I’ll mull over everything we know. Maybe some of the pieces will rearrange themselves in my head, and I’ll think of something that could help the chief.”
    Olivia got to her feet and put a hand on his shoulder. “Thanks, Harris. And I echo everything that Laurel said. You’re like a diamond in the rough, and personally, I like you that way. Don’t get too polished. All of us are flawed. It’s what brought us together. It’s what keeps us writing. It gives us character. And you are an amazing character.”
    Unexpectedly, Harris turned and gave her a fierce hug. “Save my spot, Olivia.”
    A lump formed in Olivia’s throat, and she was unable to reply. Harris wished Millay a good night and then left the desserterie.
    “You’re all going to hate me, aren’t you?” Millay asked when he was gone.
    “Never,” Olivia said after she’d collected herself. “You told him how you felt, and he made a decision. That’s better than stringing him along. And I know you’re just as miserable as he is. You both need a new start, but don’t you go running off to another state. If you do, I will track you down and drag you back here by the hair.”
    Millay cracked a smile. “That might be tough. I’ve been thinking about getting a Mohawk.”
    After Millay was gone, Olivia lingered behind to pay the bill. She hadn’t stopped at the ATM for ages and had to use a credit card. After praising Shelley again for the refreshing mojito, she stepped out into the dusky evening. Because it was the height of summer, darkness wouldn’t fall for hours yet, but a wall of clouds had blocked the sun and the hazy sky seemed gray and tired.
    The alley behind the shops was deserted. Most of the merchants had gone home, and the only sound came from the radio in Shelley’s kitchen. Olivia paused to look at the flourishing hibiscus tree on the patio. Its lacy blooms were a bluish lavender that reminded Olivia of Violetta. The plant was healthy and lush—a refreshing sight in a time of drought. The whole world seemed gray and beige, and yet here was a burst of periwinkle and bright green. The tree gave Olivia hope. She got in her car thinking that if a plant could survive hardship with constant care, then so could the Bayside Book Writers. They just couldn’t give up on one another, no matter what happened.
    And suddenly, Olivia desperately wanted to see Rawlings, to share everything the group had talked about at Decadence, but also to tell him that she was ready to open her house and her heart to him. Every part of her heart. She was terrified, but she was willing to take the risk.
    But the moment she turned on her engine, a hand encircled her neck, and she released a garbled cry of surprise.
    “I need to talk to you,” Flynn said from her backseat. His voice was chillingly calm. “Don’t do anything stupid. Just drive.”
    Olivia glanced in the rearview mirror. She hardly recognized the man behind her. His face was haggard, his hair was wild, and his eyes bored into her reflection. “Where?” she asked, hating how her hands trembled on the steering wheel.
    “To the lighthouse,” he whispered. “We’re going all the way to the top. No one will interrupt us there. Trust me, Olivia, that’s a good thing. Because I’m about to tell you the most memorable story you’ve ever heard.”

Chapter 15
    Darkness reigns at the foot of the lighthouse.
    — J APANESE P ROVERB
    O livia didn’t follow Flynn’s directions immediately. She risked several precious seconds weighing her options. Other than trying to call Rawlings on her cell phone or opening the car window to scream for help, she couldn’t think of a surefire way to save herself. She doubted she could even reach her phone without Flynn noticing, and it was unlikely that Shelly or the Decadence kitchen staff would hear her shouts over the noise of the radio. And even if they did, how would Flynn respond?
    As if in answer to