The Last Word (A Books by the Bay Mystery)

I called you. What should I do about the painting? What if it’s valuable?”
    Glancing at her watch, Olivia decided she had plenty of time to write later that afternoon. “I’m coming over.”
    The two workmen from Clyde’s crew were taking an early lunch break when Olivia pulled up in front of the bungalow. Recognizing Haviland, the men offered him a few slices of turkey and ham, which the poodle wolfed down as though he hadn’t already eaten a full breakfast at Grumpy’s.
    “Don’t be a glutton,” Olivia scolded fondly and then told him he was free to explore the woods surrounding the bungalow. Despite her desire to rush inside the house, she paused to exchange small talk with the workmen. Acquaintances in Oyster Bay never passed one another by without demonstrating this courtesy. Often the cause of slow-moving shop lines, traffic jams, and other such delays, it was simply the way things were in the small southern town.
    Finally, Olivia used the pretense that she was eager to check out their handiwork in Harris’s kitchen to get away.
    “Your money’s been well spent, Ms. Olivia,” one of the men called after her. “Looks like a whole new room now.”
    Olivia thanked him and hastened into the house, where she found Harris at his desk in the living room, the painting spread out on the clean wood surface. He’d used some heavy books as paperweights, but Olivia could still see the creases in the painting as a result of being rolled up for so many years.
    Harris moved to the side to give Olivia room. Instead of bending over the painting, which reminded her of an ancient Japanese scroll in its dimensions—it was at least two feet long but no more than a foot wide—she sat down in the desk chair and slowly absorbed the scene.
    At first, it didn’t seem very remarkable. Olivia wouldn’t normally find a snowy forest, a frozen stream, and a small cabin in the distance compelling, but the painting was multilayered.
    The artist had made the left-hand side feel hostile and cold. Glacial blues blended into desolate gray, and the stark tree branches were sharp and brittle. Shards of ice poked at sinister angles from the rock-strewn stream, but as the viewer’s eye traveled to the right, the forest grew more inviting. The pine trees were enveloped in cloaks of feathery white snow, and the frozen water was glassy and calm. Then, on a slight rise toward the upper right, was the cabin itself. Smoke curled from the chimney and light poured from the single window. There was also a sliver of yellow beneath the door, casting a welcoming beam onto the packed snow.
    Olivia could imagine a weary traveler raising his eyes to the sight of home. She could almost feel the heat of a wood-burning stove and the scents of bread baking or a stew bubbling over an open flame. A loved one waited within. Sanctuary could be had there, in the cabin on that gentle slope.
    The painting could have been set anytime within the century, and though Olivia was no expert, even her untrained eye could see that it was clearly not the work of an amateur.
    She noticed a symbol in the bottom right-hand corner but couldn’t make sense of it. “Did you try to look this up on the computer?”
    Harris nodded. “Couldn’t find a thing, but I’ll try again later. Check out the back.”
    Carefully removing the books from the painting’s corners, Olivia turned the paper over. She accepted a flashlight from Harris and swept the beam across its surface. Along the top, someone had lightly written a few words in pencil. The cursive looked masculine to Olivia, but the sentiment could have been expressed by either gender.
    My darling, soon we will have togetherness. I will make us a life.
    “Interesting syntax,” Olivia remarked. She gently turned the paper over again. “The painting is both captivating and well executed.” She turned to Harris. “Listen, I’m going to Raleigh in the morning to meet with the PR firm I hired to publicize The Bayside Crab House. If you’d like, I could make it a point to stop by the North Carolina Museum of Art. I’m certain someone on staff could tell us more about this painting. If it’s worthless, then you can hang it on your wall and enjoy your discovery. If it’s valuable, you need to know everything you can about its provenance before you decide what to do with it.”
    Harris looked relieved. “I knew you’d have the answer. Do you want to see where it was hidden?”
    Olivia grinned. “Of course.”
    The