The Last Word (A Books by the Bay Mystery)

bowl. “Who knows? He could still be alive today. A very old man, yes, but it’s possible. He was only twenty-one when he escaped. Seventeen in 1941. That’s when the U-boat sank.”
    “Fascinating,” Olivia said and meant it. After all, Shala had just described the pivotal scene of Nick Plumley’s novel, The Barbed Wire Flower . “How many of his paintings exist?”
    “Fifty-two.” Shala grinned. “Unless there are more in your friend’s staircase.”
    Olivia returned the smile while simultaneously thinking, Harris needs to comb every inch of that house .
    Their lunch finished, Olivia returned Haviland to the Range Rover and accompanied Shala inside to collect the painting. Several museum employees were gathered in the curator’s office when they returned. The air was electric.
    “It’s genuine!” a man stated gleefully. “And I’m intrigued by the note on the back.” His eyes met Olivia’s. “Did Heinrich Kamler have a romantic attachment to someone who lived in the house where this was discovered?”
    Shala edged forward to examine the script. “I was so caught up in examining the front that I never turned it over. Jeez, you’d think I was still in grad school.”
    “I don’t know much about the people who lived there, but believe me, I plan to conduct some research as soon as possible,” Olivia answered the man’s question.
    “Please keep us in the loop,” he pleaded and began to package the painting. After placing it between sheets of acid-free paper, he then secured it on both sides with white cardstock and slid the bundle into a zippered canvas bag. “Consider the bag a gift. Perhaps the owner would loan us this piece for our Arts of the Coast exhibit next winter in return.”
    “I’ll pass on the request,” Olivia promised and took her leave. She was eager to return to the quiet of her car and to spend two hours ruminating over the connection between Nick Plumley and Heinrich Kamler.
    As she roared west down I-40, she couldn’t stop thinking about the note on the back of the painting. It made sense that the syntax seemed a little off. After all, if the author of the brief lines was Kamler, then his primary language wasn’t English. It was German.
    “A bestselling novelist paying house calls on a young and naive aspiring writer, a valuable painting hidden under a stair tread, and a mysterious romance. Perhaps even a forbidden one? Local girl falls for German prisoner?” Olivia glanced at Haviland, who was sniffing at the salt-tinged air with eagerness. They were almost home.
    Olivia reached over and placed a hand on the back of the poodle’s neck. “Captain, why do the most interesting things happen just when I am about to open a new restaurant?”
    She was in the middle of an internal debate over whether to start digging through town records when her phone rang. The dashboard display, which included GPS and a hands-free phone, flashed Hudson’s number in electric blue digits.
    “Hello?” Olivia shouted over the rush of air streaming in through Haviland’s open window.
    “It’s Hudson. Kim’s in labor.” Olivia heard fear in his rough voice, and it was not the kind experienced by all nervous fathers-to-be. It was far more acute. “She’s asking for you. There’s something wrong with the baby and she wants you here. Please, Olivia. Hurry.”
    “I’m coming,” Olivia replied. “Hang in there, Hudson. I’m coming.”

Chapter 6
    Faith is an oasis in the heart which will never be reached by the caravan of thinking.
    —KAHLIL GIBRAN

    F or the first time in her life, Olivia didn’t know what to do with Haviland. She couldn’t bring him into the hospital and she couldn’t leave him sitting in the Range Rover for the second time in one day. Desperate, she pulled in front of The Canine Cottage and raced inside with the befuddled poodle.
    One of the groomers smiled at her over the sudsy back of a Great Dane. “Hi, Ms. Limoges. We didn’t expect to see you today.”
    Olivia hesitated. She hated begging for favors and it was plain to see that the groomers were very busy. “I’m in a tight spot. My sister-in-law is having a baby and I can’t waltz Haviland through the labor and delivery unit. He’s been in the car all day and he’s hot and tired.” She paused. “I never expected my sister-in-law to ask for me. I think something’s wrong . . .” She took a deep breath and finished the thought. “When my brother called, I could tell he was terrified. Can