has brain injuries, and from what I’ve been told, a dangerous amount of intracranial swelling. I don’t know what hope his wife can hold out for, but for her sake, and the sake of that man’s children, I truly pray there is hope to be had.” He began to walk and Olivia fell into step beside him.
She peppered him with questions about the robbery, but his information was limited. The officers at the crime scene hadn’t finished investigating and Rawlings had gotten all he could from April. In the end, he had ceased trying to get answers from the woman and, instead, held her while she cried. In the stiff, plastic chairs of the hospital waiting room, he had put aside his title as police chief and took on the role of big brother. He had handed April tissues and got her coffee and slowly, she told him what she could about what she’d found upon returning home from Myrtle Beach.
“Originally, Felix was supposed to go with them to the soccer tournament, but he had some presentation to do for work,” Rawlings said to Olivia. “April told me her husband is an ad man and that his company threatened to let him go if he didn’t come up with a dazzling campaign for a prospective client. Felix stayed home, fearing he could lose everything if he didn’t.”
Olivia glanced at Rawlings. “And now his family stands to lose more than they ever imagined.” She grabbed his arm. “Will you promise me something?”
Startled, Rawlings stopped walking. “Go on.”
“If this robbery bears similarities to the Quimby case and your department doesn’t have the culprits behind bars by Thursday night, will you come to the restaurant and talk things over with me? Laurel and I might be able to help, but we haven’t finished gathering information yet.”
A glint entered Rawlings’ eyes. “I don’t know what you’re up to, Olivia Limoges, but I’m willing to find out.” Sensing movement to his right, the chief put more distance between himself and Olivia. “Here comes Laurel now.”
Laurel ran toward them, but as she grew nearer, she seemed to lose steam and almost tripped over the curb. Her face was ashen.
Rawlings reached for her and she sagged against his chest. Olivia put her hand under her friend’s elbow, steadying her.
“I can’t handle this, Olivia!” she cried, her fingers clawing at Rawlings’ shirt, roughly creasing the blue material on either side of the buttons. Looking up she fixed an agonized gaze on Olivia. “This isn’t a story about theft anymore. Now it’s about murder! Oh, poor April! And those poor
Chapter 9
Laurel was too upset to pick up the twins, so Olivia convinced her to drive home and calm down before venturing out again. Rawlings went back inside the hospital, promising to call Olivia that evening.
Not knowing what else to do, Olivia took Haviland to The Boot Top and was pleased to discover several members of her staff stacking pieces of the pine tree that had fallen across the parking lot onto the bed of a pickup. When she thanked them, one of the dishwashers replied, “We gotta get ready to open. None of us can afford to go without a paycheck.”
“Your weekly check will look exactly the same,” Olivia assured her employees. “I’m hardly going to dock your wages because an act of nature shut us down.” She gestured at the building. “And you will work this week, even without power. We’re going to make box lunches and deliver them to anyone who’s out there trying to restore electricity, clearing away debris, or performing any other task that will help
Another member of the kitchen staff tossed a limb into the truck and then dusted off his hands. “We have a lot of fruit in the big fridge. I can start cutting that up. Maybe make a fruit salad.”
“Too messy,” one of the waiters argued. “These guys need sandwiches with a lot of meat, chips, and Gatorade.”
“That’s precisely what we’re giving them,” Olivia said. “Michel will be here shortly so let’s get this parking lot cleared, and be ready to unload the van. I have a feeling he bought a few pallet’s worth of supplies.”
Olivia told Haviland he’d have to wait for his lunch and then joined in the cleanup effort around the restaurant. Once the tree had been removed, one of her waiters cleared the asphalt with a leaf blower and the crew set about picking up branches and litter from the flowerbeds surrounding the building. By the time they’d finished, Michel had arrived and thrown open the rear doors of the van with a flourish, revealing cases of bottled water, Gatorade, cold cuts, bread, condiments, fruit, nuts, granola bars, milk, ground coffee, and two jumbo-sized boxes of diapers.
Olivia was proud of her employees. Without hesitating, they immediately surged forward to unload the van. There was enough daylight in the kitchen to create a functional assembly line and Michel barked orders until the room hummed with the same brisk efficiency it did during the preparation of five-star meals. Everyone seemed happy to have something useful to do and it warmed Olivia’s heart to see that her staff made sandwiches and arranged apple slices and pretzels into cardboard lunch boxes with the same measure of pride with which they created rose blossoms out of strawberries or drizzled remoulade over a shrimp and avocado salad.
Well before noon, the owner and employees of The Boot Top donned white aprons and piled into Michel’s white van. By now, the streets were stirring to life. Industrious business owners and locals looking to help with Oyster Bay’s restoration had replaced the curiosity-seekers of early morning. The town was suddenly alive, like a hermit crab creeping out from the safety of its shell. And like a colony of busy ants, people scattered over the sidewalks and streets bagging trash, picking up sticks, sweeping, and chatting.
The presence of the utility trucks seemed to add an extra dose of energy to the mix. People knew, despite the damage Oyster Bay had received, that they would recover from the storm. Lights would go back on, shattered windows would be replaced, roofs would be patched. There would be an endless string of phone calls to insurance companies and repairmen, but Olivia was confident that the town would sparkle by the Cardboard Regatta’s opening day.
She and her staff wasted no time in handing out lunches. From anxious shopkeepers to sanitation workers, the simple meal was received with sincere gratitude. Olivia began to feel like Ebenezer Scrooge delivering a fat goose to Tiny Tim’s family on Christmas Day. Her heart was swollen with affection for the town of her childhood and she felt drunk on the grateful smiles of her neighbors.
Her exultation ebbed when she noticed Flynn perched on the top of a ladder at the end of the block. He held a crooked street sign straight while a second man drilled the green- and white-lettered rectangle back into place.
Olivia paused for a moment, realizing that she hadn’t thought of Flynn once during the storm. Had he wondered about her? The fact that he hadn’t called to ascertain how she had weathered the tempest reinforced her conviction that the bookstore owner harbored no deep feelings for her.
“Not that I care,” she muttered to herself. Still, it took no small effort to paste on a smile and airily called out, “Top of the morning to you, gentlemen! Care for a roast beef and Swiss or a ham and cheddar sandwich?”
Flynn glanced down from the ladder and grinned. “Are you the new president of the Red Cross?” Waiting for the other man to give him a thumbs-up, Flynn nimbly climbed to the ground and accepted two box lunches. “You’re better looking than Clara Burton.”
“And my purse is deeper,” was her breezy reply. “How’s your store?”
“Untouched.” Flynn made a wide gesture, encompassing all of Main Street. “I could probably open for business today. The windows of that old fish warehouse are huge and the shop has plenty of light, but I couldn’t run my credit card machine and people carry around less cash then they used to.” He shrugged. “So I thought I’d take the day off and lend a hand. I’m not much of a handyman, but I take orders well.”
“Folks won’t be lookin’ to buy books today anyhow, more like milk and bread,” the other man said. He scratched his graying beard pensively. “It’s the same after every storm. People focus on the simple things. Me, I think it’s a blessing when all our gadgets and computers get shut down against our will. Folks gotta play cards and tell stories like they did in the old days. It slows us down, reminds us who our neighbors are and how damned fine it feels to take a hot shower.”
Olivia had to agree. Somehow, the lack of noise from car engines and booming radios allowed people to
