A Killer Plot (2010)

be able to live in this town after all.”

Millay snorted, a noise that seemed incongruent with her beauty. “It’ll take more than booze to make Oyster Bay look good. Where did you live before?”

“Just outside of Raleigh in the Research Triangle Park area. I’m retiring from cubicle land in order to open a book-shop here. It’s what I’ve always wanted to do and an aunt of mine was kind enough to leave me a small inheritance. I read about the town’s building boom, and since the closest Barnes and Noble is over fifty miles away, I figured this was as fine a place as any to risk it all.”

Olivia tried to ignore the quickening of her blood. A bookstore was her idea of paradise, but she’d preferred to browse in other people’s shops in place of opening one of her own. She turned to tell Camden the news but saw that he was too engaged in flirting with the bartender to be diverted by anything she could say.

“Did you say something about books?” Harris inquired, seeking to join their conversation.

“Shelves of them. I’m out tonight to celebrate. My shop, Through the Wardrobe, will open its doors this Saturday. I was planning on a hugely publicized grand opening in about two weeks, but my stock arrived sooner than expected.” He shrugged. “Now I’ll just hang up some balloons and count on word-of-mouth advertising.”

Millay pulled a face. “In this town, you’ll get more word-of-mouth than you can stand, believe me.”

“It’s so awesome that you named your place after a C.S. Lewis novel!” Delighted, Harris finally tore his eyes from Millay’s shapely legs and gave the newcomer his full attention. The two men launched into a discourse on the multifaceted subject matter tackled within The Chronicles of Narnia.

Clearly displeased over being ignored in favor of C.S. Lewis, Millay poked Flynn in the fleshy part of his thigh. “You might be stocking our books someday, you know. We’re all writers.”

“In that case, I’d better learn everyone’s names,” Flynn replied gallantly.

By the time the assembly had consumed three rounds of drinks, they were thoroughly convinced their fellow writers would completely devote themselves to their upcoming editorial responsibilities, giving each of them the forward push needed to complete a saleable novel. Even Olivia, who thus far had only warmed to Camden, found herself believing that joining the writer’s group might be a step in the right direction toward becoming a social human being.

“I’m feeling so inspired by this meeting!” Laurel squealed excitedly as she bid everyone farewell. “But Steve will be waiting up for me. It’s bad enough he had to babysit while I hung out at a posh restaurant drinking Manhattans.” She hiccupped and quickly covered her mouth with her hand. “I hope he lets me come to our next meeting at Olivia’s cottage,” she said from behind her palm. “I’ll have to detail his truck in exchange for being able to go out four nights in one month!”

“Don’t forget to critique my chapter!” Camden called after her and then stroked his smooth chin thoughtfully. “Do you think she’s serious about not being allowed to attend?”

“Or having to detail her husband’s truck?” Olivia glanced at Laurel’s vacant stool and frowned. “I’m greatly relieved to have no one telling me what to do.”

Shortly following Laurel’s departure, Flynn also left and the exuberant fellowship among the remaining writers seemed to deflate. Soon afterward, Harris and Millay drained the remains of their glasses and headed for home—or in Millay’s case, the beginning of her nine to two o’clock shift at Fish Nets.

Camden kissed everyone on both cheeks, chiding them about being punctual and fulfilling their homework assignment by critiquing his chapter, and then turned back to Olivia.

“I think things went well, don’t you?” And then, before she could answer, “Good God, it’s Blake Talbot! And hanging onto his ropy arm is his latest conquest, Heidi St. Claire. Oh, am I ever at the right place at the right time!” He rubbed his hands together with relish. “Miss St. Claire is quite lovely in person, most unlike the freshly scrubbed, severely dressed character she plays on television.”

“She’s only a girl!” Olivia declared. “Really, Camden, she can’t be more than sixteen.”

“Just eighteen, but this girl, this rising star from Iowa, is about to burst onto the Hollywood scene like a supernova! By this time next year, there’ll be Heidi St. Claire dolls, a Heidi St. Claire clothing line, and a Heidi St. Claire fragrance. I am clairvoyant about these things!” He wiggled his eyebrows. “I saw the trailers for her upcoming movie releases. She’s going to win armloads of awards for her role opposite Russell Crowe. Remember this conversation come Oscar night!” Camden eyed the young woman discreetly using the mirror behind the bar. “Oh! Olivia, darling! They’re here to have dinner. Can we please sit down at that little two-seater behind them? We can have coffee and dessert and I can eavesdrop to my heart’s content? Pul-lease!”

“Don’t they know who you are?” Olivia asked as she nodded at the maitre d’. She gestured at the table behind the couple and allowed her suave employee to place a napkin on her lap with a flourish.

Camden perused the dessert menu. “Of course they don’t know me,” he whispered. “Blake Talbot, like everyone in Hollywood and across our little blue planet, believes that I am a woman named Milano Cruise, remember? Shall we partake of the chocolate creme brulee?”

Olivia only needed to raise her eyes and a waiter instantly appeared. She ordered Camden’s dessert along with two decaffeinated cappuccinos.

“Now the trick,” Camden whispered, “is for us to pretend to be engaged in an important and intimate conversation. We lean in like so, and we move our lips every now and again, and we nod. Nodding’s good. And then, we listen to every word they say.”

Although she was skeptical of Camden’s plan, Olivia was too interested in discovering more about a member of the Talbot family to offer any dissent. As she concentrated on stirring cinnamon curls into her cappuccino, she overheard Heidi pleading with Blake.

“But I want this to be official.” Her plaintive tone was distinctly juvenile. “If you come to my screening, then we’ll be in all the magazines. It’ll make a huge statement. My mom and stepdad will see that you’re serious about us, and of course you’ll sell a bunch of CDs just by being in People. Come on, Blakey. Do this for me.”

“Heidi.” Blake spoke her name with an undercurrent of scorn. “It’s not like I haven’t been in People before. Besides, I told you that I need to keep up the appearance of being single. Girls don’t want to listen to the tunes of some whipped loser. They like to dream, to hope that they’d have a chance with me. I’ve gotta stay a fantasy. Being your boyfriend doesn’t fit with that whole picture. Don’t you get that?”

Heidi’s disappointed sigh seemed to blow across the room. She raised a flute filled with the restaurant’s finest champagne to her lips but then placed it on the table again. “It’s not fair.” Olivia could imagine her pursing her pretty lips. “But I can’t keep lying to my parents. You know how close my mom and I are. What if she calls Lila’s house? What if—” “Look. I’m going to meet with some people late tonight and then, tomorrow morning, we’re outta here. The Gulf-stream is all gassed up. We’ll climb aboard, pop a bottle of Moet, and...” Blake mercifully lowered his voice to an inaudible whisper, which was followed by a theatrical squeal from Heidi’s side of the table. “After one night in Vegas, we’ll be back in LA. You’ll be home in time for dinner.”

Olivia leaned toward Camden, whose gaze was fixated on the painting behind her shoulder. He waved a spoonful of creme brulee in the air with his right hand. “Delicious!” he suddenly pronounced.

“He obviously doesn’t care about her at all. Poor girl,” Olivia murmured to Camden, shooting a sideways glance at the young man. She had to admit he was good-looking in a scruffy, rebellious sort of way. His black hair, dark eyes, and square jaw certainly lent him a masculine air, though he was far too reedy for Olivia’s tastes. However, she could see that other women in The Boot Top were also casting covert looks in his direction, for there was a magnetism about Blake Talbot, a mixture of conceit and coarse beauty, that most women found destructively fascinating.

Camden was unsympathetic to Heidi’s plight. “He never cares about any of them. Deep down, they all know it too, but we all deceive ourselves, do we not?”

“That we do,” Olivia agreed. “And you’ve got foam on your lip.”

Heidi continued her argument as Olivia and Camden fell silent again. “Why can’t I meet your friends? I don’t want to be in that beach house all by myself at night. I came out here to be with you.” Her pout was as extreme as a toddler’s.

“These men are not the kind of people you’re used to,” Blake answered flatly, grabbing the bottle of champagne from the silver ice bucket in the center of the table. He filled his glass to the brim and then jammed the bottle back into the chilled bucket without offering to replenish his date’s empty flute. “You wouldn’t fit in.”