The Last Word (A Books by the Bay Mystery)

for the past fifty years or so.”
    “I’m not old enough to remember the date of that event,” the woman declared smugly. “You’ll have to come back when you have an accurate address.”
    Olivia recalled Harris telling the Bayside Book Writers that Nick Plumley had found a copy of the newspaper article describing the move and, therefore, Laurel could easily get ahold of the same information. Thanking the clerk, Olivia jogged upstairs and called her friend.
    “Olivia! I was hoping I’d have an excuse to take a break,” Laurel said. “I’m working on this yawn-inducing piece about average household incomes and—”
    “I need you to find an old article for me,” Olivia cut in. “It’s urgent.” She explained what she needed. “Could you bring it by The Bayside Crab House as soon as you find it?”
    There was a pause. “Is something going on with Harris? What’s wrong, Olivia?”
    Silently berating herself for assuming that Laurel wouldn’t ask why the information was so crucial, Olivia promised that Harris was fine and that she’d fill Laurel in when she delivered the article. Olivia was quite surprised that Nick Plumley’s death hadn’t been leaked to the press yet and wondered if Rawlings had kept his team so busy that not a single officer had been able to contribute to the famous Oyster Bay gossip chain. It would certainly be a coup for Laurel to break the news first, especially since she’d established her reputation as a respected local journalist based on her articles on the Cliché Killers.
    “Just do this for me,” Olivia coaxed. “And I’ll tip you off on what’s to become the biggest story of the summer.”
    Laurel sucked in a quick breath. “I’ll take the tip. It’s been mighty sleepy in the news department.”
    “That’s about to change,” Olivia stated solemnly and hung up.
    An hour later, she was well into her speech on treating customers like royalty, the employees of The Bayside Crab House listening to her every word with a mixture of trepidation and awe, when Laurel arrived.
    Olivia wished her staff good luck, cautioned them that the first guests would be arriving at five, and led Laurel into the manager’s office.
    “Is this yours?” Laurel asked, taking a seat and glancing around the space with interest.
    “It’s really Kim’s domain. She’s in charge of supplies and bookkeeping. Once we have an established routine, I’ll only come in to sign checks.”
    Laurel frowned. “But what will Kim do with the baby? You’re their only family in Oyster Bay, right?”
    Having no desire to introduce the emotionally charged subject of Anders, Olivia shrugged. “I suppose she’ll bring the baby with her. Caitlyn’s going to day camp this summer and Kim’s hours are fairly flexible. She’ll be home when the kids are home. I agreed to that arrangement from the start.”
    “What a boss,” Laurel said with a wistful smile. “Wish you ran the Gazette . I have been allowed to work from the house more and more, but it’s so hard to get anything done. The twins have entered a seriously brutal rivalry phase. They’re like two Roman gladiators, destroying anything in their path.” She shook her head hopelessly. “Enough about my boys. Why did you need this?”
    Olivia accepted two sheets of paper from Laurel and quickly scanned the article. Before the houses were moved and the two-lane road became a highway, it was called Stillwater Street. The article described the complexities of the expansion project and featured a photograph of a bungalow atop the flatbed of a tractor-trailer. Even from the grainy black-and-white image Olivia could tell that the house wasn’t Harris’s. It was smaller and had a slightly different roofline. A group of people clad in their Sunday finery was gathered around the truck. The women were impeccably turned out in tailored skirts, hats, and gloves; the men were in suits and felt fedoras; the little girls looked angelic with their curled hair and crinoline; and the boys wore high-waisted shorts with suspenders and argyle knee socks.
    The caption listed the names of the four men grouped together near the left side of the trailer. “There! Frank White must have been the original owner of Harris’s house. Now I just need to search for the deed for Stillwater Street.”
    Laurel drummed her fingers on the arms of her chair. “You’re killing me, Olivia! What is going on ?”
    Olivia dropped the paper onto the desk and sat down next to