A Killer Plot (2010)

with the blue purple ink, she ripped open a second. “He’s not any smarter than you are,” she continued, though she knew this might not be true. The killer had already established his intelligence by avoiding capture. “And what if he’s not working alone? Having a partner should make him easier to catch. Chief Rawlings believes he’ll be at the town hall tonight. If not him, then his partner.” She held up a stained index finger. “Watch for the nonverbal signals, Officer. One of our own has been bribed or blackmailed by Blake Talbot or Max Warfield. Watch those two. They have alibis but the ‘silent partner’ in these murders may not have. And he has to have a tell.”

Cook frowned and Olivia thought the young man was sure to turn truculent, but he surprised her by nodding. “I play poker every Friday and everybody’s got a tell. Even me.” He handed her a third towelette. “You gotta get it off right away. This ink stains worse than blueberry pie on a white napkin.”

“Thank you, Officer Cook.” Olivia finished scrubbing her fingers and then followed the young lawman back to the lobby. “I was wondering if you knew the date of Dean Talbot’s funeral?”

“No, ma‘am, but it won’t be here in Oyster Bay,” Cook replied. “They’re takin’ his body back to New York tomorrow where it belongs. The oldest son is handlin’ it all. He’s a real prize. He thinks we’re all a bunch of dumb hillbillies, but we know a coke addict when we see one. I’ll be glad to see the last of that family for a while.”

Olivia grew thoughtful. “Dean died on Saturday, yet his funeral is Wednesday, which means it was likely delayed until the conclusion of tonight’s meeting. Interesting. With the two of the three Talbot kids not yet arrived from New York, someone needs to stay behind to oversee ...” She trailed off. It was definitely time to pay a visit to Max’s rented condo. “Good luck, Officer. The citizens of Oyster Bay are counting on you.” She smiled at the bewildered policeman and returned to the Rover, which was parked in the fire lane right outside the jail’s front door.

Inside the stifling car, Olivia checked her cell phone for messages. Her face lit up as she listened to the voicemail from Diane. Haviland was awake and moving around and seemed to be no worse for wear.

By the time Olivia pulled in front of the vet’s office, her stomach was rumbling. Glancing at the Tupperware on her passenger seat, Olivia knew she’d end up tossing its contents. Haviland was going to dine on ground turkey and raw chicken hearts—one of his favorite meals. They’d both lunch at The Boot Top.

One of Diane’s employees must have noticed Olivia’s car, for as soon as she stepped onto the driveway, Haviland was allowed outside. He bounded over to his mistress and stood up on his hind legs with a jubilant yelp. Olivia threw her arms around the poodle and then sank to her knees, laughing as she welcomed the frenzied kisses Haviland planted all over her face, neck, and shoulders.

“You smell nice,” Olivia remarked. “Did they give you a bath?”

Haviland barked happily and curled his mouth into a smile.

Olivia couldn’t seem to stop running her hands over the poodle’s soft, black curls. He appeared genuinely unharmed, but it was reassuring to feel his healthy, wiggling body under her fingers. Finally, Olivia kissed Haviland once more on the nose and straightened. Tugging on her disheveled shirt, she placed her drool-covered sunglasses inside her purse and waved at the groomers who had paused in their work to witness the reunion.

Inside the vet’s office, Diane’s pretty young assistant tabulated the bill and then gestured at the paper plate bearing a sandwich and a pile of potato chips on her tidy desk. “Thanks for lunch, Ms. Limoges. You didn’t need to do that. We just love taking care of Haviland. If all our patients were as well mannered as the Captain, our jobs would be a lot easier.”

Pleased by the compliment, Olivia reached out and cupped Haviland’s snout in her palm. “Thank Diane again for me, would you?”

“I sure will. She’d see you both off, but she’s in surgery.” The woman lowered her voice. “Doris Fielding finally brought Muffin in to be fixed. That bitch has given birth to every feral mutt in this town. God love them, but each one of her litters is dumber than the last. It’s high time for Muffin to close her legs and start acting like a lady.”

Laughing, Olivia led Haviland out of the vet’s and headed for The Boot Top. The moment the pair walked through the back door, Michel rushed over to Haviland and hugged the poodle’s neck.

“I’ve been waiting for you, my friend.” He cast a worried glance at Olivia but continued to address Haviland. “I heard what happened and have been cooking ever since.” He removed a bowl from the warming oven and began tossing the contents with a wooden spoon. “This will restore you completely.” He set the bowl down beneath Haviland’s quivering nose and whispered in all seriousness to Olivia, “I hope the ground beef he ate was at least organic.”

Olivia rolled her eyes. “I hardly asked the vet for an analysis, Michel.”

She left Haviland in the kitchen happily gulping down his lunch and went into the office to phone Dixie.

“Please tell me you are not callin’ me in the middle of my lunch rush to talk about those Talbot kids and their airplanes,” Dixie scolded.

“I am. When did they arrive and who were they with?”

Dixie sighed, but Olivia knew it was all for show. Dixie would keep her customers waiting until suppertime if it meant passing on a choice morsel of gossip. “Let me hand out some bacon burgers and grab my phone bill. It’s all I had handy to write on when I was talkin’ to Grumpy’s cousin.”

Putting the phone on speaker mode, Olivia began to sort through her emails. When Dixie picked up the receiver, she cleared her throat and spoke clearly so Olivia could hear her over the din of the lunch crowd.

“Blake Talbot flew in Sunday afternoon. His girlfriend was with him, that Heidi St. Claire from TV. My girls are wild about her. They say she’s going to be bigger than Hannah Montana.” She paused dramatically. “And guess where she and her man are right now?”

“Where?” Olivia asked, imagining the glimmer in Dixie’s eyes.

“The love birds are here! In the Evita booth!” Dixie dropped her voice to an excited whisper. “They’re both wearin’ baseball hats and those big ole sunglasses that make people look like horseflies, but I know it’s them. Okay, back to the report: The older brother and his wife flew in Sunday evenin’ around six and then the sister and Dean’s widow came in together around eight. No other flights. No other passengers. And don’t you forget you owe me dirt on Flynn for this.”

Olivia frowned. Every single Talbot was out of town when Dean had his fatal fall. “And Saturday? Did any private charters arrive?”

“Just two. One stopped for repairs before headin’ down to Myrtle Beach and the second was full of guys on one of those corporate fishin’ retreats. Nothin’ dark and sinister, darling.” She placed her hand over the receiver and shouted something. “Gotta go. See you tonight for the fireworks show.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Olivia replied with a smirk, but Dixie was already gone.

Next, Olivia dialed the number to the rental management office of the Ocean Vista condos. The phone was answered by a woman with a musical voice and Olivia sweetly asked to be put through to the manager.

“Bert Long. Can I help you?”

Olivia introduced herself as the owner of The Boot Top and proceeded to outline a proposal to reward new condo buyers and long-term renters with a dinner for two at the restaurant. “We are the only five-star restaurant in the area, Mr. Long. I’m sure your clients would appreciate the incentive.”

“I know I would!” the manager declared. “I’ve only been to your place once, but I swear I can still taste the lobster and the wine I enjoyed that night.”

Knowing her fish was on the line, Olivia began to reel him in. “Do you recall the exact vintage?”

Bert recited the French label perfectly.

“Why don’t I swing over with a bottle and we can discuss this in more detail?” Olivia suggested. “I need to pay a visit to one of your guests anyway. Can you tell me which unit Max Warfield is occupying?”

“Two-twelve. A two-bedroom unit with one of our finest ocean views,” Bert answered, switching into salesman mode. “But Mr. Warfield isn’t here right now. He always parks his rental car in front of the office to catch the shade and it’s gone.”

Suppressing her irritation that Max was unavailable, Olivia said, “Would you mind giving me a call when he returns? I don’t want to waste your valuable time and we’re expecting a full house at the restaurant tonight. If you’d be kind enough to alert me, I’ll have time to locate that bottle for you and perhaps bring over a sample of this evening’s chef’s special.”

“Splendid!” Bert bellowed.

Olivia recited her number and then sat back in her chair, wondering what to do next. She opened her