Written in Stone (A Books by the Bay Mystery)

suppertime.”
    Millay, who’d been unusually quiet throughout the discussion, turned to Olivia and asked, “How could someone drug Willis? You were with him. He didn’t have an inhaler, so how—”
    “He’d just smoked a cigarette,” Olivia said, facing Sheriff Poole. “I’ll never forget the smell. Someone had given him a clove cigarette to try. That someone must have been the murderer.”
    Both Poole and Rawlings were taking notes. “We’ll have to talk to a doctor about the nitty-gritty details,” Poole said. “See if it’s possible to load this kind of medicine into a cigarette filter. This stuff is way above my pay grade.”
    “I bet it’s possible,” Harris said. “All you’d have to do is soak the tobacco with a drug that triggers malignant hyperthermia. Even if it tasted funny, Willis wouldn’t know why. He’d think he was just smoking a funky clove cigarette when he was really sucking a bunch of toxic drugs into his lungs.”
    “And what kind of drugs could have been made into a trigger? Could you use the pills in the lady chief’s purse, for example?” Millay was practically snarling. “Did you grind them up and use them to murder innocent people?”
    Annette’s face turned ashen. “W-What? That’s insane! I’ve given my life to the people of my tribe!” She dumped the contents of her purse on the table and grabbed the pill bottle before it could roll off the edge. “This is olanzapine. It’s a prescription for my son, Andrew. He has bipolar disorder.” She handed the bottle to Rawlings. “Count them if you want. There were thirty pills and Andy’s taken two.” A tear slipped down her cheek. Fletcher put a protective arm around her and offered her a handkerchief.
    Harris was gazing intently at his cell phone’s screen. He looked up, locked eyes with Millay, and shook his head. “Those pills wouldn’t do it. I found a much more detailed medical site than I’d been on before and this one says that the catalyst would have to be an anesthesia inhalant.”
    Rawlings returned the bottle to Annette. “Thank you, but I’m sure it won’t be necessary to examine these.” He spoke very gently. Annette sniffed and returned the pills to her purse. Millay helped her gather up the rest of her possessions and was clearly surprised when Annette grabbed her hand and held on to it.
    “It’s okay,” the older woman whispered. “I know you were just trying to help Talley and I’m grateful that she has you in her corner.”
    Poole observed this exchange impassively and then focused on Olivia once again. “Did Willis Locklear mention a name, Ms. Limoges? Did he give an indication about the person who gave him the clove cigarette?”
    “No. If he had, this whole thing would be over already,” Olivia’s said regretfully.
    Annette looked at Olivia. “You’re not to blame. I don’t know why someone has it in for the Locklear family. They’ve never harmed anyone. People have only become familiar with Willis and Talley because of the casino deal. A deal everyone’s happy about. I know I’ve said this before, but I can tell you don’t believe me.” She scanned the faces of the Bayside Book Writers and then her gaze came to rest on Rawlings. “The tribe voted unanimously to build the Golden Eagle and the residents of Maxton have smoothed our way at every turn, every town meeting. This is a good thing for all of us.” She tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear and sighed. “I can’t see the rhyme or reason behind hurting the Locklears.”
    “My guess is that someone’s unhappy about the deal and is well practiced at hiding it,” Rawlings answered. “And since it appears that the casino will be built no matter what, if the crime against Talley is truly attempted murder, then the killer’s anger is burning brighter than ever. He or she has nothing to lose, because they believe they’ve already lost. If that’s the case, these are payback killings. This is a matter of revenge.”
    “Thus the time metaphors?” Harris wondered aloud.
    “If Natalie was murdered too, then the killer is extremely patient,” Olivia said, reflecting on the morose nature of the Herrick poem. “He or she has suffered for a long time and is therefore willing to wait, to
suffer
a little longer because, in the end, the Locklears will pay. For what wrong, we still don’t know.”
    Laurel wrung her hands together. “Then the murderer won’t stop. As long as Talley’s alive, there’s