The Last Word (A Books by the Bay Mystery)

won’t be takin’ them with me.”
    Olivia heard the rumble of a car engine and knew that her hour was up. She needed to tell Wheeler that Evelyn had given birth to a child, his child, but she was still taking in everything he’d told her. She was overwhelmed by stories and images, by the past and the frightening future that would become the present the moment Chief Rawlings knocked on Wheeler’s door.
    Wheeler stood up and made his way to the bedroom. He walked over to a large pine storage chest and lifted the lid. Removing a stack of unframed watercolors tucked between two pieces of cardboard, he untied the twine securing the package and fanned out a half dozen paintings on the top of the pile, Olivia observing him in mute awe.
    There were scenes of men working at a paper mill, men and women harvesting peanuts, fishermen at the docks, shopkeepers sweeping their sidewalks, and a baker kneading dough. Olivia’s favorite was a landscape featuring an elderly couple strolling hand in hand on a white beach. They were just smudges of peach skin and gray hair, disappearing into a large blur of blue sea and sky, but she couldn’t take her eyes from them.
    “Take it,” Wheeler said tiredly. “Take ’em all.”
    Olivia stared unblinkingly at the watercolor couple, walking shoulder to stooped shoulder, two people who’d loved a lifetime together and knew how to take the time to enjoy a moment of peace and beauty.
    She could not condone what Wheeler had done. Even in the name of revenge, even after what he’d suffered, she could not support his act of violence. Yet, his crime did not blot out the other things she knew about him, the other ways she knew him—all the years they’d shared snippets of gossip, laughter, or quiet conversation. He was still the man who supported a Little League team each year, who donated the day’s leftover bagels and pastries to the food bank, who supported local artists by hanging their work on the café’s walls. He’d always spoiled Haviland and treated Olivia like a daughter.
    He was her friend. He was worthy of forgiveness.
    To show Wheeler that nothing would stop her from caring about him, she took the painting. “Thank you.”
    Car doors slammed at the top of the driveway.
    Olivia’s heart beat faster at the sound. “Even though I’d be honored to take them all, I’m happy to have just one. There is someone else you might want to give the rest of these to, someone you’ve never met.”
    Wheeler wasn’t listening. He’d raised his head at the sounds coming from outside and squared his shoulders. Without looking at Olivia, he headed into the kitchen, where he stood in front of the window and peered out toward the driveway.
    “That’s a good fellow, our chief, and a fine artist to boot. You could do worse, girlie.”
    Rawlings had parked at the top of the long drive and was now making his way with slow deliberation down the unpaved road, a giant of a man by his side.
    “Who’s the big guy?” Wheeler asked.
    Exhaling, Olivia put her arm around the old man’s back. “His name is Raymond Hatcher. He was raised by Agnes Hatcher, James’s widow, but I believe he’s your son. Yours and Evelyn’s.”
    Wheeler’s eyes fixed on Raymond, his face filling with wonder. Olivia could see it spread over his features, glowing like a full moon over the ocean. His mouth worked, but no sound came out. There was nothing but the radiance of this new discovery. It flowed out of his eyes, smoothing his wrinkles until he seemed young again. A young soldier. A young lover.
    “We did have the one night together, but I never thought . . .” Wheeler whispered in awe. He refused to blink, drinking in every inch of the approaching figure. A smile began to form on his lips, and the closer Raymond drew, the bigger the smile became. “I’ll be damned! Look at that boy. Evie, he’s such a fine, strappin’ man.”
    Olivia cast him a sidelong glance. Was he confusing her with his lost love, or was he speaking to Evelyn’s ghost?
    She moved away from him, opening the door and wordlessly inviting Rawlings inside.
    Raymond waited on the stoop while the chief explained the charges and read the Miranda. His tone was soft and calm and held no judgment. Not for the first time, Olivia was grateful for his professional poise, his kind heart.
    Wheeler ignored him completely. He didn’t acknowledge his presence at all. He passed him by, his eyes locked on Raymond’s. They were shining with joy. It