A Deadly Cliche

“Wonderful news,” Olivia said with a proud smile. “And how did your conversation with Steve go? Do you have his support?”

Laurel hesitated. “I figured I would show him the articles first. You know, put the Gazette next to his bacon and eggs and let him see that someone is actually going to pay me to write.”

Olivia could imagine Laurel on the other end of the line, clasping her hands over her heart, her lovely face rosy as she indulged in a fantasy of her husband suddenly seeing her in a new light. Olivia hated to burst her bubble, but she wanted Laurel to be prepared for an unfavorable reaction. “What will you do if Steve’s unimpressed?”

“I’ll cry, I suppose,” Laurel answered honestly. “But I’m not going to back down. I’ve never felt so sure about myself as I did when I sent in that file. And I don’t think I’ve thanked you for helping me realize my potential. I wish there was some way to express my gratitude.”

“There is,” Olivia said. “Don’t give up. No matter what anyone says, don’t give this up.”

The next day, the lead-in to Laurel’s article was featured prominently on a right-hand column on the front page. Olivia read it eagerly and was impressed by how Laurel had managed to infuse the facts with compassion for the victims. There was also a short piece on the robbery in Beaufort County and a quote from Chief Rawlings about the department’s progress in the investigation. Laurel had indeed proved herself a capable reporter.

Over the course of the week the Gazette ran pieces on the burglaries. Laurel’s name appeared in the byline below each article and Olivia assumed that she hadn’t heard from her friend because she was too busy writing.

Olivia decided to be industrious as well. She and Michel designed an autumn menu featuring dishes like apple and Brie salad, veal cordon blue, chicken and pears in a gourmandise sauce, pork chops with roasted shallots and carrots, pumpkin bread pudding with candied ginger, and apple crisp with a dulce de leche drizzle. She also finished critiquing Rawlings’ chapter and added five thousand words to her own manuscript.

On Thursday morning, there was a knock on her door. Peering through the kitchen window, Olivia recognized Will Hamilton’s face from the photograph on his website.

“I’m sorry to just show up like this, but my cell phone went for a swim in the Pamlico Sound and I knew you’d want this as soon as possible.” He handed her a padded mailing envelope.

At a loss for words, Olivia indicated the investigator should come inside. She stepped back to let him pass and then removed the contents of the envelope. It was a vial of blood.

“What the hell is this?” she asked, slightly repulsed.

Hamilton stood alongside the kitchen table and laced his fingers together. “It’s supposedly your father’s blood.” When Olivia didn’t respond, he gestured at the nearest chair. “Could we sit?”

Nodding, Olivia sank down a chair. She couldn’t take her eyes off the vial in her right hand. Was it possible? Had this blood recently flowed through her father’s veins? “Tell me how you got this.”

“I kept a constant eye out for the Ritaestelle. When it docked, I recognized the fisherman who’d taken possession of the pink mailer containing your cash. When he disembarked, the envelope was in his hand. It was still unopened too. Anyway, I followed him.”

Olivia leaned forward. “Where did he go?”

“To a cafe near the harbor. He ordered a big breakfast and chatted with just about everybody in the place. He was clearly a local. I sat at the booth behind him and could easily listen in. Once his food came, he gave the envelope to the waitress, a worn-out-looking woman in her thirties. She looked at the postmark suspiciously and said, ‘What’s he up to?’ I could tell she wasn’t happy. She tossed the envelope on the table and walked away.”

“And then?”

Hamilton sat back in his chair. “She disappeared into the kitchen and a man followed her back out to the fisherman’s booth. He wore a dirty apron and looked at the envelope as if there was a snake hiding inside it. Still, he sat in an empty corner booth and sliced the envelope open with a knife from his apron pocket. Looked like he was gutting a fish,” the PI added. “He peered inside, saw the cash, and stuffed it in his front pocket, like he wanted to hide it. Then the woman, who I discovered was his wife, demanded to know what was going on.”

“Did you get these people’s names?” Olivia demanded tersely. Anger was rising within her and she tried to push it back down. “What do they have to do with my father, or more importantly, my father’s blood?”

“Their names are Kim and Hudson Salter. They own the cafe and a little bed and breakfast above the eatery. After I explained who I was and why I was there, Hudson told me that your father had rented rooms from them until he fell ill. Seem as though he’s run out of money and is almost out of time too. Pancreatic cancer. The Salters have been taking care of him. “

“And no doubt they think I’ll pay them a small fortune for their kindness toward their elderly tenant. I wonder exactly when they discovered that he’s my father.” Olivia didn’t trust the couple at all.

Hamilton looked a little embarrassed. “Ma’am, I believe the family is in a hard way and don’t have the funds to spare to cover the costs for his treatment. Mrs. Salter seemed pretty upset over the way this whole thing was handled. She didn’t say a word, but I could see that she was ashamed.”

“Did you see this dying man who’s supposed to be my father?”

“No. Hudson wouldn’t allow it. He was very protective of your father.” The investigator hesitated. “Mr. Salter seems like a hard man, but from what I’ve been told by the locals, he’s been really good to your father. They kept telling me that Hudson and your dad were very close. But they’re a tight-lipped lot on that island. They don’t like to talk about their own to a stranger.”

Olivia curled her fingers into her palms, digging her nails into the flesh as rage coursed through her. “I don’t care what the locals say. When I’m done with this man, he will regret his attempts to manipulate me.”

“Ma’am, Hudson swears that he did not send you a letter. He told me that he could guess who’d written it. He left me there then and came back about twenty minutes later with the blood sample. His face was flushed and it seemed like he’d had words with the letter writer, but he refused to give me their name.”

“I wonder why.” Olivia frowned deeply. “I don’t understand any of this! Why would these people take care of some elderly tenant? Why would they pay for his medical bills? Did they think he was some kind of cash cow? And who is the real blackmailer? Who are they protecting?”

Hamilton nodded in sympathy. “This certainly isn’t a clear case, but I didn’t want to push Hudson without talking to you first. He asked me to give the blood to you, in case you were interested in getting a DNA test.” Hamilton kept his voice soft and even. It was obvious that none of his news had been easy for Olivia to take. “Hudson told me you were welcome, once you were convinced that the sick man is your father, to travel to Okracoke and see him before time runs out. He’s keeping his best room reserved for you.”

Exhaling loudly in frustration, Olivia cried, “This guy’s claiming he didn’t write the letter and yet he took the money! What kind of fool does Hudson Salter think I am?”

The private investigator shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “There’s a lab in New Bern where you can get DNA results in twenty-four hours. Would you like the address?”

“Yes,” Olivia answered in a tight voice. She stuffed the vial back into the envelope and then pulled her checkbook from her purse. “At this point your services are no longer required. You’ve done excellent work, Mr. Hamilton, going above and beyond the call of duty. I appreciate your dedication and would be glad to send you a written recommendation for your files.” She scribbled out a check, pressing her signature deep into the paper.

Hamilton waved his hand for her to stop. “You don’t need to worry about payment now, Ms. Limoges. My secretary can send you a bill. This must be quite a shock for you.”

“I’m sure this will more than cover your fee.” Olivia put the check on the table and rose. She desperately wanted the man to leave, needing solitude at this moment more than ever before.

Blinking at the amount of Olivia’s check, Hamilton folded it in half and slid in into his pocket. “This is very generous of you, ma’am, thank you.” He moved to the door and then paused. “I hope you find the closure you were seeking, Ms. Limoges. One way or another.”

And then he was gone.

Olivia sat motionless at the table and listened until she could no longer hear the rumble of Hamilton’s car engine. When all was silent, she shoved her chair back so roughly that it toppled and clattered on the tile floor and she rushed out to the deck, Haviland bounding after her in expectation of a walk. Olivia didn’t even notice as the