Written in Stone (A Books by the Bay Mystery)

to speak to him again once he was back at The Boot Top, Olivia waved good-bye.
    Michel watched Willis leave and then shook his head. He’d begun to sulk. “I’m French. My ancestors were cooking five-star meals before his even crawled out of the ocean.
We’re
the reason there are foodies in the first place. We
invented
gourmet. Even the word is French!”
    “Willis hasn’t eclipsed you,” Olivia said. “And Shelley Giusti seems to like you just the way you are. Though I’m sorry to see that she wears a wedding ring.”
    “I haven’t asked her about that,” Michel said. “Maybe I’ll invite her to Indian Story Time and she can tell me why her husband isn’t doing it for her.”
    Olivia scowled. “I know you’re fond of crossing lines, Michel, but leave Willis alone. He’s only being himself and poses no threat to you.”
    “He’d better not.” Michel glared and stomped out of the tent.
    Rawlings slid the memory jug back into the crate on the dolly. For a second, the little gilt mirror caught a stray sunbeam and threw diamonds into the air. Rawlings put his hand out as if to capture the splinters of light. “This is no good, Olivia,” he said. “I’ve seen that look before—usually right before a man is about to do something he’ll regret.”
    * * *
    The Cedar Point campground was an explosion of color. Lumbee Indians in ceremonial dress moved about the clearing like a flock of exotic birds. Olivia suddenly realized she had no way to communicate with all of them. She’d have to appeal to the chief or find someone who could e-mail photos of the memory jug to the rest of the tribe.
    Echoing Olivia’s thoughts, Rawlings said, “This is a tough place to talk to people. We need to put this on display.”
    “That’s exactly what we’ll do!” Olivia exclaimed. “I’ll rent a booth space and ask festivalgoers to identify the mystery objects.”
    Rawlings was skeptical. “Really? And will you offer a prize in exchange for information?”
    “Maybe I will,” she snapped, annoyed that she hadn’t already come up with a plan to approach the Lumbee.
    Walking in stony silence, the couple followed a stream of people heading toward the picnic area. Here, the aroma of cooking food was just as prevalent as it had been at the other campground, but these scents were greasier, hinting of sausage and funnel cake.
    Olivia spotted Willis engaged in what appeared to be a serious conversation with a man in his early fifties who was not, judging from his light skin and fair hair, a Lumbee. The man nodded gravely and, after Willis had finished talking, spoke a few words of his own and then put a reassuring hand on the sous-chef’s shoulder.
    Looking relieved, Willis pulled a pack of cigarettes out of the pouch hanging from his sash and lit up, earning him an admonishing finger wag from the older man. He smoked for a while and they shared a few laughs until a drum began to beat. Abruptly, both men turned their attention to the raised platform at the end of the picnic area.
    A beautiful young woman stepped onto the stage. She had a river of jet-black hair that shone with ribbons of blue in the fractured light. The hem of her daffodil yellow dress, which was covered by a long white apron, whispered as she moved to the edge of the platform. A multicolored medallion had been stitched on the front of the apron and she wore a crownlike headdress. Barefoot, she walked in regal silence and then stopped, gazing intently at the audience.
    They instantly fell quiet.
    She raised her hands in the air. Elegant and slender, her arms closed slightly, coaxing her listeners to draw closer together and closer to her. In a strong, deep, singsong voice, she began her tale. “Let me tell you how the snakes got their poison.”
    And then she stared straight at Olivia.
    Olivia thought her heart might stop. This girl, who had to be Willis’s sister, reminded her of someone. Olivia was certain she recognized the angles and planes of her face, the distinctive slope of her nose, and the proud tilt of her chin, but she wasn’t sure which of her acquaintances the girl favored. And then, this beautiful, self-assured young woman looked at Olivia. She regarded her as if she could see right to the bottom of her soul. The wisdom of her gaze was unsettling. So was the fact that she was gazing out through a pair of very familiar eyes.
    Munin’s eyes.

Chapter 9
    Time is the coin of your life. It is the only coin you have, and only you can