Poisoned Prose (A Books by the Bay Mystery)

Of the suffocating loneliness. Maybe she was weary of pretending. Or wanted the kind of peace she didn’t think she could find in this life.
    Olivia put Elijah’s photograph back into the cardboard box and paused.
    Shouldn’t someone hold on to him? Someone who loved him?
Olivia knew she didn’t dare do anything that could compromise the case, so she reluctantly put the box away. She wondered if, when all was said and done, Amabel would want to see Elijah’s picture. Perhaps she might find comfort in remembering how her little brother looked before he got sick. Before he died and her family fell apart. Before Violetta left and Amabel’s hatred for her sister began to bloom inside her like a thorny black rose.
    The photo belongs to a girl named Mabel,
Olivia thought
.
Or whatever remains of that girl inside the woman called Amabel. A woman who plotted the murder of her own sister.
    Olivia called Dixie from Rawlings’ office.
    “Any sign of Lowell?” she asked.
    “Not even a glimpse,” Dixie said. “And it’s not like the Carolina coast is teemin’ with dwarves in hospital gowns.” She raised her voice to be heard over the wailing of the storm. “When I heard he was out of that coma, I sang all the way to New Bern, but now I’m back to that doom-and-gloom feelin’. The weather’s not helpin’. Grumpy and I are drivin’ around lookin’ for Lowell, but I can barely see the road with all this rain.”
    Olivia glanced out the window. The thinner branches of the crepe myrtles separating the building from the parking lot were being whipped about by the wind. The rain pummeled the leaves and deep puddles were forming in the depressions near the roots. “Are you in Oyster Bay?”
    “We are. I figured Lowell had to come back here. He needs his car. Two cops are waitin’ at my house, and my kids think this is the most wonderful thing since peanut butter, but I could do without the drama. It’s fine when I hear about things happenin’ to someone else, but I don’t like it this up close and personal.”
    “What did the doctors say about Lowell’s condition?”
    Grumpy shouted at another driver, and Dixie told him to calm down. “They said he seemed normal. A little weak and in need of a few days’ rest, but normal. The cops were lookin’ inside that robot when we left. Looks like that’s how he snuck away. But he can’t hot-wire a car and drive off into the sunset. He can’t reach the pedals.” She released a heavy sigh. “What’s he thinkin’? Why is he actin’ so damned crazy?”
    Olivia shared her theory about the diamonds being hidden in the heart-shaped padlock. “The police don’t have it, and I don’t think Greg or Amabel do either. I believe Lowell stashed the lock somewhere in town and will come back for it before disappearing for good.”
    Dixie was silent for a moment. “He swore he’d changed. I wouldn’t have let him stay with us, be near our kids, if I didn’t think he . . .” she trailed off. “Couldn’t Flynn have the lock? From what you told me, he—”
    “No,” Olivia said gently but firmly. She knew Dixie was hoping that the thief was anyone but her cousin, but Olivia thought Lowell was the most likely suspect. And she wasn’t ready to talk about Flynn’s suicide. She couldn’t speak of it. Not now. Not for a long time. She was trying not to think about it. To become so involved in Lowell’s disappearance that her mind would stop replaying the sound of the gunshot. “Have you checked every inch of your house?” she asked Dixie. “Maybe the padlock is hidden in plain sight. In the tackle box or mixed in with Grumpy’s tools or in one of the kids’ rooms. Could Lowell have talked any of them into keeping a secret?”
    After exchanging a few words with Grumpy, Dixie replied, “Don’t think so. Grumpy threatened to take a hammer to their video games if they kept info about Lowell from us.”
    “I suppose he could have hidden the padlock anywhere in the woods. Is there a back way to your house?”
    Dixie snorted. “None that Lowell could find, and it’s a long hike. The cops are waitin’ at that end and in our closest neighbors’ yards too. He can’t sneak his way in.”
    Olivia, who’d been pacing around the office, kicked the desk chair in frustration. It spun lazily around, and Haviland sat up and started barking. “Where else would he go?” she mumbled aloud.
    “We’ve asked the same question a million times,” Dixie said. “This feels