spot near the courthouse. “They have a K-9 unit, after all, so they can’t protest your presence. Do you remember Officer Greta? We ran into her during your last grooming appointment.”
Haviland barked excitedly. “Quite an attractive and intelligent German shepherd, I would agree. But she’s on the clock when she’s here, Captain, so no flirting. This is all business. Understood?”
Snorting his assent, Haviland trotted next to Olivia. He’d never taken to a leash and, from the time he was a puppy, had responded to verbal commands with incredible acuity. Since her return to Oyster Bay, Olivia had been chastised about leash laws by policemen, fretful mothers, and a bevy of deliverymen (the most vocal being a terrified UPS driver), but she would rather pay a host of fines than force her poodle to wear such an undignified contraption.
“My dog is smarter than most humans,” was her customary answer, but if someone persisted in lecturing her on leash laws, Olivia would launch into a list of classes she and Haviland had taken to ensure that he’d received top-level training in both hand signals and voice commands. If she felt especially talkative, Olivia would brag about Haviland’s agility and tracking abilities, citing the number of awards he’d won in the canine classroom.
The locals had grown accustomed to seeing Haviland walking alongside his mistress, so when the pair entered the station, their gaits perfectly matched, the female desk sergeant blinked in surprise but said nothing. Olivia wondered if she had Chief Rawlings to thank for receiving no argument regarding Haviland’s presence in the building.
“I’m here to give a formal statement about last night,” Olivia informed the middle-aged woman wearing a snug uniform. “I’d prefer to see Chief Rawlings if I may.”
The woman shook her head and set her lips into a firm, uncompromising line. “Sorry, but he’s real busy.”
“Of course,” Olivia capitulated and took a seat in one of the lobby’s uncomfortable wooden chairs. Haviland sat on his haunches next to her right leg, his soft, brown eyes alight with curiosity.
Five minutes later, Olivia looked up to see who would be taking her formal statement and was most unhappy to be met with the surly visage of Officer Cook.
“Long night?” she asked by way of greeting.
“Yeah.” The policeman eyed Haviland distrustfully for a moment, even though he’d seen the poodle the evening before, and gestured for Olivia to follow him down the carpeted hallway.
They passed by several offices and when Olivia spotted a placard with Chief Rawlings’ name, she peeked around the partially closed door. The chief was on the phone, but he caught the movement from the corner of his eye and waved her inside.
Without bothering to alert Officer Cook that she was deviating from the current course, Olivia stepped into the office, waited for Haviland to pass across the threshold, and closed the door.
“Yes, sir,” Chief Rawlings spoke solemnly into the receiver. “I’ll send an officer to collect you at the airport. He’ll be there by the time you land. Again, I am truly sorry to be the bearer of such news. Yes. Good-bye.”
Replacing the receiver, the chief pressed his hands over his eyes and sighed. “I haven’t had to make too many of those phone calls during my tenure in this office, thank the Lord, but they are the greatest challenge of this job.”
Olivia examined the lawman’s stained and wrinkled uniform shirt, the shadow of an auburn beard darkening his chin, and the discoloration under his eyes. As he sipped from an oversized coffee cup, his head fell into a strip of sunlight pouring in through the window blinds. For the first time, Olivia noticed that the chief’s hair was tinged with hints of red and that his hazel eyes resembled the muddy green of a deep woods pond.
“Were you speaking with a family member? A relative of Camden’s?” she inquired respectfully.
Rawlings shook his head. “Mr. Ford’s wallet held no clues in that area, but there was a business card for a publicist based in LA. I called her last night and she informed me that Camden’s emergency contact was his, ah, partner. Mr. Cosmo Volakis is already en route here. Of course, it will take him most of the day, seeing as he’s coming from the west coast, but I got the sense he caught the first flight out. Poor guy. It’ll be the longest plane ride of his life, I’d imagine.”
There was an impatient tap on the office door. Rawlings shot Officer Cook a questioning glance.
“I was
Frowning, Rawlings said, “I’d like to speak to
“Yes, sir!” Cook immediately brightened and Olivia was reminded of the policeman’s youth. He probably hated dealing with paperwork and had joined the force in search of action and excitement.
“Were you able to question Blake Talbot?” Olivia asked once they were alone again.
“Mr. Talbot had little to tell,” Rawlings grudgingly admitted. “He provided us with an alibi and then gave me his lawyer’s number in case I should have anything further to discuss.” His face darkened. “I can tolerate the Talbots’ money, their attempts to buy up every spare acre in Oyster Bay, and even the lack of imagination of that new condo development, but I cannot stand rudeness. And
Olivia smiled. “Some discipline would probably do him good.” She reached down and stroked Haviland’s curls. “Did you find any helpful witnesses? Did Camden actually go into the bar? What business did Blake have there?”
Rawlings drew in an impatient breath. “Ms. Limoges, this is an open case and I’m not at liberty to discuss it with a civilian. I shouldn’t even have said what I just said.” He sank back in his chair, as though his spine was too tired to support the weight of his torso.
The chief’s words settled for a moment. Rawlings looked out the window at the park and Olivia looked at him. There was something appealing about his gentleness and intelligence.
“It doesn’t sound as though you’ve got any solid leads,” Olivia remarked dejectedly. “Yet this crime is so unlike our town. The gruesomeness, the poem, the risk of being seen in the alleyway. It’s as though the killer wanted publicity.”
Rawlings raised his hand to stop her from continuing, but Olivia plowed on. “I really
“I’m no novice when it comes to poetry, Ms. Limoges,” Rawlings reminded her of his propensity for reading verse for pleasure.
“And I wouldn’t doubt you could solve a poetic riddle during normal circumstances,” Olivia conceded. “But you’ll soon have the media to face, evidence to examine, and hopefully, witnesses to question. Surely it is not outside the bounds of the law to allow well-meaning civilians to put forth a few theories about this particular clue.”
She could see Rawlings relenting. “I suppose there’s no harm in that.” He handed her a business card. “My cell phone number is listed here. Feel free to call me anytime.”
Olivia rose. “I can find my way back to Officer Cook.” Haviland got to his feet and leisurely joined her in the doorway. As Olivia reached out to grab the handle, something prompted her to turn back to Rawlings. He was regarding her with his kind smile. “And if you need to talk to someone about the case, when you’re off-duty of course, stop by The Boot Top. I’ll buy you a drink.”
His smile grew warmer. “Thank you, Ms. Limoges. Before this is all said and done, I may just take you up on that offer.”
Olivia found Officer Cook at a cluster of desks in a large room at the end of the hall. Harris was seated across from him.
“Hello!” Harris beamed, clearly welcoming the sight of a friendly face.
“I’m glad to see you,” Oliva said and sat down next to Harris. She noticed that the red flush across her friend’s cheeks, nose, and forehead was exacerbated. It looked raw and irritated. No doubt stress caused Harris’s skin condition to become more pronounced.
