Written in Stone (A Books by the Bay Mystery)

Salter. He was devoted to work and family above all other things. He didn’t believe in the supernatural and had no use for organized religion. Mentions of the hereafter—of angels, spirits, or ghosts—were met with a dismissive grunt.
    “Think back on what you saw.” Olivia spoke very gently. “Do you really believe that our father’s ghost appeared to you at a food festival?”
    Hudson rubbed his face with his hands and then balled them into fists. “Listen to me. I
saw
him. He wasn’t the same. He was better dressed. Had better hair. Nicer teeth. Maybe ten more pounds of muscle on his bones, but it was him. He looked right at me, Olivia. Felt like he was looking right through me.” He took a quick breath. “I was so scared that I dropped my drink. Spilled Dr Pepper all over my shoes, damn it. And I don’t scare easy.”
    “Okay, okay.” Olivia held out her hands, hoping to mollify her brother. “There’s only one logical explanation. You saw a man who looks so much like Willie Wade that it gave you a genuine shock. Hudson, your reaction to this guy could be some form of grief. Have you been thinking about our father lately?”
    Hudson snorted. “Are you kidding? I’ve got a new baby, a new house, and a new restaurant. The man’s barely crossed my mind since I stepped into this kitchen.” He examined the orange peel in his fist and then stuffed it into his apron pocket. “I’m not being haunted. I don’t believe it that crap. But I know what I saw.”
    “What do you want from me?” she asked. “How can I help you?”
    Her offer seemed to be what Hudson needed. His shoulders relaxed ever so slightly. “Keep your eyes open tomorrow. Maybe you’ll see him too and then I won’t feel like such a nutcase. If not, then I’ll just let it go. It’ll take a few days to forget, that’s all.”
    She smiled and squeezed his arm. “I’ll be as observant as possible. Promise. Can we get out of here now?”
    “Yeah.” He pushed open the thick door and then paused. “Don’t mention this to anyone, okay? Especially Kim. She’s got enough on her plate.”
    “I won’t,” Olivia assured him. “But right now I need to get to the bar. This day seems to be going on forever, and trust me, that’s not a good thing.”
    Now it was Hudson’s turn to look concerned. “You wanna tell me about it?”
    Olivia hesitated. She wanted to be closer to her brother. They’d made small strides in the right direction, but in many ways, he was still a stranger to her. He was so quiet and reserved that she often found herself talking with Kim and Caitlyn more than with him. He poured all his energy into The Bayside Crab House, and while the restaurant was a safe subject and one they could discuss at length, the half siblings rarely touched on more personal topics. Olivia knew that reviewing menus and supply lists weren’t going to help strengthen their bond, so she took a breath and said, “A sous-chef from The Boot Top died today. I was talking to him when he collapsed. I just can’t accept what happened. I don’t want to believe it.”
    Hudson didn’t say a word. Instead, he pulled her to him and embraced her tightly. It was a brief hug, but Olivia felt renewed by it. When Hudson released her, he said, “The world doesn’t always make sense, does it?”
    “No,” she agreed. “And today, for both of us, it’s been especially off kilter.”
    “Go get that drink,” he commanded softly. “And I’ll fix you something to eat.”
    Hudson would try to comfort her by cooking her something special, so even though she wasn’t very hungry, she gave him a grateful smile and left the kitchen.
    A few minutes later, she returned to the deck area with a tumbler of Chivas Regal in hand. During her brief absence, the rest of the Bayside Book Writers had arrived and were making quick work of an appetizer platter of fried calamari, grilled shrimp wrapped in prosciutto, salmon spring rolls, and mini crab cakes in a curried yogurt sauce. Two pitchers of beer had also materialized and Millay was busy filling pint glasses until the rims were moistened by white foam.
    “Are you going to join the commoners or are you sticking with your Scotch?” she asked Olivia, the pitcher hovering over the last glass.
    “I’ll pass,” Olivia said. “I need something stiffer than our local microbrewery can provide.”
    “The chief told us how Willis died.” Harris helped himself to more calamari but ended up staring at his