The Last Word (A Books by the Bay Mystery)

rug and comb through the relics, rediscovering her simple treasures and reliving the hours having her shoulders doused with sunshine and her lungs infused with sea air.
    Olivia carried the dime to her computer and pulled up a bookmarked site on coin identification. She scrolled to the section on U.S. dimes and spotted hers immediately. The female profile on her find was an exact match of the Winged Liberty Head wearing a Phrygian cap pictured on the website.
    Haviland sat beside her and gazed at the screen with interest.
    “That silly-looking hat is supposed to represent liberty and freedom,” she told the poodle. “And that bundle of branches tied together with an ax on the reverse is called a fasces. A Roman symbol indicating power. According to this article, however, it was supposed to indicate America’s readiness for war. Combined with the traditional olive branches shown on every dime, it was also supposed to portray our country’s desire to acquire peace.” She shook her head. “We always did take the other Roosevelt’s declaration to ‘speak softly and carry a big stick’ too much to heart.”
    She put the Mercury dime beneath the lens of her magnifying glass and searched for the date.
    “1941,” she read and then tilted the coin so that light from her desk lamp made it appear as though the goddess of Liberty was winking at her with her single eye. “So you were minted during the war. Whose pockets did you travel in? Did some poor fool about to be shipped to the front lose you when he stripped down to take one last swim in his home waters? Did you bear witness to the sinking of the German U-boat and the roundup of the first wave of prisoners? Or were you a little kid’s birthday money?”
    Olivia glanced out the window, where the hazy, pink sky reminded her that she needed to get going. She turned off the lamp and looked down at the coin before dropping it into this year’s pickle jar. Liberty’s face was painted in shadow, smudges of dark gray that the vinegar bath had been unable to erase. The goddess looked solemn. Her gaze was firm and unwavering, but her mouth turned down at the corner into what looked like disapproval or even doubt.
    “There must be a clue hidden in the past,” Olivia murmured and gave the jar a little shake, forcing the coin to rattle against the other metal trinkets inside. She screwed the lid on and quickly checked her e-mail. Harris had come through. He’d discovered the name of the New Bern prisoner guard’s son.
    “Raymond Hatcher.” Olivia smiled in satisfaction. “I look forward to meeting you.”
    She sent Harris a short note of thanks, shut down her computer, and loaded Haviland into the Range Rover. It was time to review menus, see to paperwork, and have a cocktail. And not necessarily in that order.

    Harris had also found out that Raymond Hatcher worked for a freight company in an industrial park outside of Grantsboro. Olivia waited until eleven thirty Monday morning before setting out for Hatcher’s place of employment. She hoped to intercept him en route to his lunch break.
    She hadn’t called first. It was her experience that a few white lies, combined with an envelope of twenty-dollar bills, made even the most tight-lipped people transform into effusive chatterboxes. If Raymond wouldn’t meet with her today, she’d find a time and place more conducive to a lengthy chat.
    Assuming that loading docks were not unlike fishing docks, Olivia bypassed the front entrance and drove around to the back of the mammoth steel structure. Dozens of tractor-trailers were backed up to deep bays, and the industrious whir and bleeps of forklifts maneuvering around the loading areas reverberated against the metal walls.
    Olivia decided to leave Haviland in the car, so she parked the Range Rover on the shady side of the building, opened the windows, and handed him one of his favorite treats: dried tendons from grass-fed South African beef. His eyes glimmered as she placed three more snacks on the console. “I know they’re high in protein, but take your time. I don’t know how long I’ll be.”
    Ignoring her, Haviland took his prize to the back, sank onto his belly, set the tendon between his front paws, and got to work. His white teeth flashed, and the gleam in his eyes was that of a satisfied predator.
    Shouldering her purse, Olivia walked into the nearest bay as though she frequented the business on a regular basis. She saw a middle-aged man with a kind face