A Killer Plot (2010)

itself with overwhelming power.

“But he can’t really begin to mourn without closure,” Olivia murmured to herself. “Oyster Bay is a small town. Someone knows something about this death. I just need to ask the right people the right questions.” She brushed away the stirrings of melancholy as she shook loose sprinkles of sand from her gray yoga pants.

Haviland trotted over and licked the side of her neck, gracing her with one of his rare, gentlemanlike kisses. She cupped his ears in her hands and pressed her face against his soft cheek. “Come on, darling. We’ve much work to do.”

Their morning walks were always restorative, and by the time Olivia pulled the Range Rover in front of the cheerful yellow Victorian with the wraparound porch and the lavender front door, she felt as though she had an abundance of strength of will to share with Cosmo. The Yellow Lady was one of the most beautiful houses in Oyster Bay and Olivia felt there was no rival in the entire county for its wild and colorful gardens.

Though it was nearly ten o’clock, Olivia half expected to learn that Cosmo was still asleep, so she’d come prepared with a James Michener novel and a plump nectarine in case she had to wait. But not only was Cosmo awake, he was showered, immaculately dressed in pressed khakis and a hot pink polo shirt, and dining heartily on the inn’s bountiful breakfast spread.

Annie Kraus, co-owner of The Yellow Lady, hovered at his elbow. She placed a steaming cup of black coffee next to Cosmo’s plate and solicitously arranged a creamer of steamed milk and a porcelain sugar bowl adorned with silver sugar tongs within easy reach. After giving him a maternal pat on the shoulder, she passed behind his chair in order to adjust the blinds so that the burgeoning sunlight didn’t fall across his eyes.

Olivia had met Annie and her husband Roy several times. As business owners, all three were involved with the chamber of commerce. Roy and Olivia were also committee members on the town’s Planning Board. Despite the fact that the meetings were often tedious, Olivia enjoyed being in the know about the changes occurring in Oyster Bay and she suspected the Kraus’s shared her pleasure over being able to direct those changes through their voting power.

One of the pine floorboards creaked, announcing Olivia’s presence. Annie looked up and produced a tentative smile. Annie and Roy had purchased The Yellow Lady shortly before Olivia’s return and Olivia sensed they were still uncertain what to make of the attractive and imposing female entrepreneur. Having been married for more than two decades, Annie seemed slightly wary of unattached women, as though she believed it unnatural for a woman to remain single and childless. Annie was fifteen years older than Olivia and had been raised by religious parents who placed great value upon both marriage and procreation. When the youngest of her four children left the nest, Annie didn’t have anyone to cook or clean for, so it seemed only fitting to continue those tasks for paying clientele.

“Good morning, Ms. Limoges,” she greeted Olivia formally. “Would you care for some coffee? My dear guest is on his second pot.” She beamed at the young man.

Cosmo stood and quickly held out a chair for Olivia. As she grew closer, he pulled her into a brief but gentle embrace. “I can see why Camden loved this town,” he declared. “Roy and Annie have been such darlings. And the room—gorgeous! Crisp, cotton sheets, fluffy white duvet cover, a pillow-top mattress, and not a framed needlepoint in sight. It looks like something I would have designed.”

Olivia thanked Annie for the coffee. She added some of the steamed milk, stirred, and took a sip while studying Cosmo over the rim of her cup. “This is delicious coffee,” she said after swallowing the rich, creamy brew.

It was the right thing to say. Annie’s stiff shoulders relaxed and her smile became genuine. “It’s the beans. They’re pure Kona and I grind them fresh every morning.” She paused. “I know you’re used to fancier food than this, but you’re welcome to breakfast too.”

“The biscuits are to die for,” Cosmo said, pushing a basket toward her. “If I eat like this, I’ll have to get elastic-waisted pants.”

Annie swatted at him with the corner of her apron. “I’ll have you know that some of us have been wearing those for years.” Her tone was indulgent.

“I already had Raisin Bran and a banana, but if I’d known this is what you serve your guests, I would have skipped breakfast and gotten here sooner.” Olivia saluted Annie with her coffee cup.

“Would you sit down for a minute, Annie? Please!” Cosmo pleaded. “I know we talked a bit last night—actually,

I blubbered and you listened—but could you tell Olivia what Cam was like on ... his last day?”

Hesitating, Annie smoothed her apron and looked to Olivia for guidance. Olivia gestured at the seat across from her own as though they were gathered in her dining room and not Annie’s.

“Mr. Ford was a charming gentleman,” Annie began. “Kept his room ever so tidy, complimented me on my cooking (though he never ate any sweets or bread or whatnot—he was very health-conscious), and he was always humming or singing. He just filled this house up when he was in it. You couldn’t help but smile when he was around. He was a real ray of sunshine.”

Olivia nodded. It was an apt description of Camden. “Did you see him on Saturday?”

“Only in the morning and for a few minutes in the evening when he came in to change his clothes.” She directed a smile at Cosmo. “He wore such lovely things. Ironed them himself too. Of course, I offered to do that for him,” she added defensively. “We aim to coddle our guests here at The Yellow Lady, but Mr. Ford said ironing helped him think, so I left him to it.”

“Well, I hate ironing,” Cosmo replied in an attempt at humor, but Olivia noticed that he’d put down his utensils and seemed unable to eat any more of the biscuit, thick-sliced bacon, or ripe strawberries on his plate.

Annie patted the tablecloth close to Cosmo’s hand. “You don’t need to worry about a thing while you’re here, dear.” Sensing Olivia’s impatience, she finally answered the original question. “Now I could tell that Mr. Ford had been doing his best to get to know folks from our town, from fishermen to librarians to little Dixie Weaver. He also talked on his cell phone quite a bit.” She flashed a look at Cosmo. “Please understand. I make it a point to give my guests their privacy, but because this whole house doesn’t get the best reception, Mr. Ford often talked out on the front porch and I’d hear bits and snatches now and then. When I was tidying up and such.”

Olivia didn’t buy this explanation for a moment. Annie was clearly an inquisitive innkeeper. “Did you hear any bits and snatches on Saturday?” she asked.

“All I know is that while he was talking on the phone, he wrote down the name of our little park south of town—the one right on the river with the bird plaques and that old Civil War cemetery. If you can even call it a cemetery. It’s just a few graves, really.” She shrugged. “Mr. Ford planned to visit the park that very afternoon, though he wasn’t wearing the right shoes, if you ask me.” She clucked her tongue in disapproval. “He also told the person on the phone that he was real interested in what he had to say and would like to meet in person. And I only know this much detail because Mr. Ford came to me in search of pen and paper. I didn’t hear anything else.”

“Well, that’s quite a comprehensive tidbit,” Olivia mused aloud and turned to Cosmo. “Was Camden a nature lover?”

“Of course not.” Cosmo grimaced at the idea. “The man hated the outdoors. Give him air-conditioning and double-paned windows or he’d complain like a starlet who’s lost her sunscreen! In LA, Cam only went outside for Starbucks or the newspaper.”

“Therefore, going to the Neuse River Community Park would be out of character?” Olivia pressed.

Cosmo leaned forward on his elbows. “As out of character as me going to a women’s fashion show to ogle the models instead of the clothes.” He shook his head. “I’m assuming there’d be bugs at this park too? Mosquitoes? Ticks?” He shivered in distaste. “He’d only go there if he could borrow a hazmat suit!”

“I don’t think our souvenir shop keeps those in stock.” Olivia took a sip of coffee. “Truly excellent brew, Annie.” The innkeeper flushed. “Can you tell us anything else?

What was Camden’s mood when he came home to change for the evening? And what time was that?”

Annie looked out the window. “Let’s see. I was in the kitchen making scones to put in the freezer. I had to stop to register the Parker couple and ring Roy to carry their luggage upstairs. That must have been around six because the scones were already in the oven when I saw Mr. Ford.” She tapped her watch. “Must have been a bit after seven when he came down from his room. He’d been in jeans and a cotton shirt that afternoon, but he was