Written in Stone (A Books by the Bay Mystery)

phone buzzed as she received a text from Rawlings. He planned to meet her at the dock in five minutes.
    Placing several bills on the table, Olivia shook Fred’s hand. “I’m buying you breakfast. You earned it.”
    “I’ll only accept if you promise to tell me how this story ends.” He gave Haviland a fond pat. “We can meet at the park so the boys can race after squirrels.”
    Haviland’s ears pricked at the mention of squirrels and Olivia had to tell him that they were not going to the park. The poodle whined once and stared plaintively at Fred.
    “Sorry, fellow. I should’ve known better than to speak the magic word out loud.” Fred did his best to appear penitent.
    Dixie gave Fred a playful elbow. “Okay, lemme out. I’ve got to grab some take-out cups for Olivia and the chief.” She wagged a finger at Olivia. “But I’m only gonna give them to you if you promise to fill me in at the same time you’re sharin’ with Fred here. After all, I’ve known you longer, and despite my better judgment, I still happen to like you.”
    Olivia watched Dixie skate off toward the kitchen, slapping a check on the
Cats
table as she passed by. A whirlwind of coupons rose up in her wake, fluttering in the air like colorful pieces of confetti before drifting to the floor.
    After sending a text message to Millay and Harris instructing them to research Talley’s house and its previous owners in-depth, Olivia looked up in time to see Dixie burst through the kitchen’s double doors, once again kicking up a maelstrom of coupons. Savings on peanut butter, laundry soap, cheese crackers, tuna fish, and toilet paper scattered over the tiled floor like fallen leaves.
    Olivia started to laugh. The sound surprised her, but it felt good. In fact, it was such a glorious release that she kept on laughing. She knew that stress and exhaustion were behind the giddiness, but she couldn’t seem to stop.
    “It’s finally happened,” Dixie told Fred with a resigned sigh. “She’s lost her marbles.”
    Fred opened the front door so that Olivia could stagger out. “Maybe those folks have a coupon for marbles,” he said as Dixie wagged a warning finger at Haviland.
    “Watch out for her, Captain,” she whispered. The poodle seemed to understand. He sniffed in acknowledgment and trotted outside, his ears and nose raised. He caught up to Olivia, walking so close to her heel that he merged with her shadow.

Chapter 17
    It is a fateful part of human destiny that it is condemned to wage perpetual war against ghosts. A shade is not easily taken by the throat and destroyed.
    —V ICTOR H UGO
    B y the time she reached the docks, Olivia’s laughter had died.
    Rawlings had already taken a seat in the stern of the Boston Whaler and Harlan was standing by its prow, bowline in hand. He gave Olivia and Haviland a brief smile as the pair stepped over the gunwale and onto the boat deck.
    Harlan cast off and slipped behind the wheel in a quick, fluid movement. Maintaining a speed of five knots, the engine purred as they passed slip after slip of luxury sail and motor yachts. For the past five years, Oyster Bay had been dubbed the sailing capital of the East Coast and every dock space and harbor mooring now had to be rented a year in advance.
    People were out and about, visiting their nautical neighbors, giving orders to the boat hands, or lounging on their scrubbed decks reading the newspaper while dining on croissants and freshly squeezed orange juice.
    Olivia didn’t pay much attention to her surroundings. She knew that today’s group of boat enthusiasts would be gone by next week, replaced by a similar-looking set. The pattern would continue until after Labor Day. By then, hurricane season would be in full swing and most of the travelers would forego their pleasure cruises until spring.
    Something on one of the bridges leading down to the last dock caught Olivia’s eye. A momentary flash, like a mirror catching a beam of sunlight. When the flash winked out, she saw that it had come from the lens of a man’s sunglasses. He’d lowered them to his waist to wipe them with a cloth and the light had shot toward Olivia like a beacon.
    Olivia went rigid.
    Not again,
she thought.
This isn’t possible
.
    At that moment, the mirage of her father glanced out over the water. His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. Obviously stunned, he raised his right hand and cried, “Camille!” in a voice laden with anguish.
    Mechanically, Olivia shook