A Deadly Cliche

ridge of a wave. “This man was a stranger to me, but someone must be missing him. Someone will want him to be at peace. You were the only witness. What secrets do you carry?”

The water gently bubbled and hissed and then Haviland was at her side, nudging Olivia with his nose before racing off again to chase a gull. Though the poodle was a threat, the bird flew just out of Haviland’s reach, as if enjoying a game with the canine.

When Olivia looked back down at the sand, she noticed that it was pocked with fiddler crab holes. Recalling a trick from childhood, Olivia pierced the sand next to one of the holes with a twig and the crab darted out of the burrow. Olivia followed the creature’s progress, which was made slightly awkward due to the one large and fiddle- shaped claw. The crab scuttled several yards away from the water line and immediately began to dig a new hole. Olivia had watched the crabs do this hundreds of times before, but she still loved to sit and wait as the tireless creatures produced a tidy ball of sand in the process of creating a new home.

“Not a very exciting existence,” she mused aloud. “You dig yourself a hole—” She stopped and glanced up the beach. “Dig yourself into a hole. That’s the cliche Rawlings figured out at The Boot Top.” She stood, brushed sand from her pants, and whistled for Haviland. “Felix Howard wasn’t the first person to suffer violence at the robbers’ hands. They’ve killed before. They committed premeditated murder right here!”

Reclaiming the metal detector, Olivia switched it on, ignoring Haviland’s plaintive look. “I know you’ve had enough, but I can’t quit yet. Just pick a spot and start digging. I’m going to sweep this entire perimeter once again. There must be something here.”

There wasn’t.

Tired, hot, and frustrated, the pair set off for home.

Olivia spent the afternoon critiquing Millay’s chapter. Her phone rang once, but she was so engrossed in Millay’s fantastical world that she allowed the answering machine to pick up. It was Flynn, asking that she return his call as soon as possible. “Otherwise I’m going to have to turn to another smart, no- nonsense woman to help me out,” he teased. “She’s not quite as attractive, but I’m out of my league here. Call me, please?”

The sound of Flynn’s voice seemed incongruent with Millay’s narrative. Her heroine, Tessa, was about to embark on her first battle, and Olivia felt anxious for the fictional girl. In the previous chapter, the Bayside Book Writers had learned that Tessa could not learn the secret name of her Gryphon until they were victorious in three battles against terrifying foes. Only by calling the Gryphon by his true name would the young warrior girl and her mount be truly united. This union would awaken Tessa’s magical abilities, giving her the necessary prowess to face the enemy of her people: the Dark Witches and their mounts, the Wyverns.

Taking a sip of iced tea flavored with lime, Olivia returned her attention to Tessa.

Learning to fly had been hard enough. Tessa had to sit at the base of the Gryphon’s neck, her legs folded and her hands buried in the thick, downy feathers behind his head. Her thighs ached from having to squeeze the Gryphon’s shoulders where his feathers gave way to fur. In the beginning, she had fallen again and again, but now that she was more skilled, the Gryphon soared higher into the sky, above the shimmering green seas and lush fields of her homeland. On the morrow, they would leave the secluded valley behind and travel to the edge of the Sea of Bones. Three girls had gone before her. Three Gryphons had returned without their riders. Tessa spent the night in her Gryphon’s cave. The other girls chose to sleep in the communal lodge. Though the lodge’s linen covered pallets were far more comfortable than as pile of straw, Tessa found she could not wander too far from her beast without feeling an ache to be near him again. At dawn, one of the priests blew a shell horn into the mist. The deep, lonely call resonated inside the cave, waking Tessa immediately. She dressed in her warrior’s garb of deer hide breeches and a flowing white tunic and shouldered a quiver made of dark green leather. The image of a Gryphon’s haughty profile had been stitched on both sides in white thread. Tessa’s arrows also had white shafts with moss green fletches. The weight of the quiver on her back was a comfort, and she prayed her aim would be true. As they flew toward the Sea of Bones, she feared that her prayers would not be enough. Before saying good-bye to the other girls, Tessa had strapped a lance to each leg, and now, as the Gryphon stretched out his neck and cried with the voice of one thousand eagles, she untied a lance and gripped it tightly in her fist. She’d heard tales of the monsters living in the black water of the Sea of Bones since she could walk. With the face and torso of a giantess, two pairs of finlike arms as pliable and slithery as eels, and a dozen coiled tails like those of a sea serpent, this breed of water witch was especially feared. For years, the Gryphon warriors had whittled down their numbers, but the water witches were far from extinct, and those that survived had become very strong. They fought with their arms and tails, spewed mouthfuls of seawater powerful enough to knock their enemies off their mounts, and wielded serrated swords fashioned from the spines of sea dragons. The Gryphon released a second battle cry and the head of a sea witch burst through the surface of the water directly beneath them. Tessa nearly lost her seat as her mount abruptly pivoted to the left to avoid the sweep of a barbed serpent’s tail. Aiming at the witch’s eye, Tessa released her lance. The witch batted it aside with a slick arm and laughed. It was a horrible sound, a wet gurgle of insatiable hunger and timeless evil. Most warriors would have been filled with dread, but the noise only served to anger Tessa. She hadn’t worn herself out with training for the past few weeks to fail here. She threw her second lance, again aiming for an eye. The witch lifted her chin and Tessa’s weapon cut her lower lip. Howling, the monster wiped at a trail of black blood and snarled. Suddenly, four bone swords sliced through the air. The Gryphon dove out of reach, but Tessa was unable to fire any arrows because she was forced to cling to her mount’s neck or be flung into the churning waves below.

Olivia finished reading the chapter without pausing to make notes. She needed to know that Tessa had succeeded in vanquishing the sea witch before jotting comments on word choice or passages in which she wanted more detail. At times, Olivia felt that Millay’s writing was too fast paced and wished her friend would learn to ease back on the narrative throttle. Tessa was a fascinating character, but it was difficult to get to know her because she was always on the move.

Let us in, Olivia wrote at the end of the chapter. What is Tessa feeling? Even when she defeats the sea witch, she just flies off into the sunset. I know she’s exhausted from the experience, but you’re keeping the reader at a distance by not sharing what’s going on in Tessa’s mind.

The phone rang again, but by this time Olivia was ready for a break. When she saw Will Hamilton’s number on her caller ID box, she snatched the receiver from the cradle.

“I hope you have news for me, Mr. Hamilton,” she said.

The private investigator cleared his throat, which Olivia sensed was a sign that he was about to impart bad news.

“Mr. Burkhart picked up the package in question at quarter past eleven on Thursday morning. While still inside The UPS Store, he examined your return address carefully, and then tossed the envelope on the passenger seat of his truck. It’s been there ever since.”

“That’s it?” Olivia didn’t bother to hide her irritation.

“He made a phone call as soon as he got in the truck but the package has remained unopened.”

This surprised Olivia. “Are you certain?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Hamilton paused. “And seeing as that envelope contains a thousand bucks in cash, I’d say Mr. Burkhart isn’t exactly hurting for money. Either that or he’s holding the envelope for a third party.”

Olivia considered the latter theory. “You may be on to something there.” She sighed. “I haven’t been completely forthcoming with you, Mr. Hamilton, but it’s high time I was. When I first hired you, I was afraid that I was being made a fool of, but now I’m so confused that I don’t know what to think. I have no interest in entering into a business arrangement with Rodney Burkhart. That was an untruth.” Having confessed as much, she told the private investigator about the letter she’d received concerning her father.

“I’ve handled dozens of missing persons cases, ma’am,” Will answered solemnly when she was done. “They rarely have happy endings.”

“I want to know who sent me this damned letter! And I want to know why! Is this only about money or is there some possibility that my father is alive?” Olivia felt her cheeks flush in indignation.