of translucent kiwi slices balanced on the rim.
Cora popped a kiwi into her mouth and then took a dainty sip of the Melontini. She took a longer, greedier sip and then sighed. Olivia couldn’t hear the sigh, but she saw Cora’s body deflate as the air was pushed from the woman’s lungs.
The couple, having angled their bodies in order to face each other, was unlikely to notice Harris or the book he’d laid on the bar by his right elbow. Olivia wasn’t worried. If the Vickers stayed at the bar for the length of their meal, they’d eventually shift positions and hopefully fall into conversation with their neighbor. For his part, Harris was wisely drawing no attention to himself. He’d let Millay exert her charms and get enough alcohol into the couple’s systems before she eventually included him in the conversation.
The newlyweds, now significantly more relaxed than they’d been upon their arrival, smiled at each other, chatted with Millay, and worked on their drinks. The moment Boyd’s whiskey glass was empty, their attentive bartender appeared like a bottle-welding jinn to refill it.
“This is your free one,” Millay announced with a friendly dip of her chin and poured two more shot glasses worth of whiskey into Boyd’s tumbler. She then placed a brand-new beer alongside his pub glass, correctly assuming that the presence of the fresh pour would encourage him to drink down the rest of the first beer in a few gulps.
By this time, Cora had finished her first martini and was studying the menu. When her second martini was half done, Millay told the Vickers that the wait list was moving along at a snail’s pace and that she’d be bringing them a complimentary appetizer platter within a few minutes.
“Do you want to dine here or would you prefer to continue waiting for a table? I’d like you to stay, of course. I prefer a polite couple like you two to a bunch of horny golfers on a weekend trip away from their wives. I had to deal with enough of
Cora laughed. “Don’t worry, we’ll eat here. It looks like the band is back from their break. We’ve got great seats for listening to the music and won’t have to wait around for a waitress to bring us drinks.”
“That
Olivia started in her seat when the band, a group of good-looking high school boys led by front man Cody Rigod, Chief Rawlings’ nephew, began the second half of their set with a rowdy rendition of “Get Off of My Cloud” by The Rolling Stones.
It was now impossible to hear what anyone in the bar area was saying, and Olivia was reduced to casting covert glances at the Vickers as they devoured their appetizer and started in on their third round of drinks. However, it was plain to see that Millay was winning their trust. Judging by the way she leaned over to listen to what they were saying, Olivia assumed they were complaining about their afternoon.
Then Millay’s eyes opened wide in shock and she pointed at Harris. He blinked in confusion and stared stupidly from his copy of
On the sly, Millay poured the newlyweds another round. Olivia noticed that Boyd was given another boilermaker, but Cora had been served a Blue Orange Martini.
“Vodka, blue Curacao, and Cointreau. Nicely done, Millay,” Olivia mused aloud. “You must have had that ready to go in an extra shaker.” Signaling for a waitress, she placed an order for scallops with mushrooms in a white wine sauce and asked for a glass of Dr. Loosen Riesling.
Ten minutes later, with the quartet at the bar still oblivious to the rest of the world, Olivia took her wine and went into the office to check on Haviland. He’d been fed a meal by one of the sous-chefs and was now taking an after-dinner nap on the carpet. A note on the desk read:
Olivia smiled. “Ah, Michel. I miss you. As soon as Kim can take over here, I’ll be back in my little office at The Boot Top where I belong.”
Haviland had been dreaming, his paws flexing and shivering in his sleep, but at the sound of Olivia’s voice, he opened his eyes and raised his head an inch off the floor. She bent down and kissed his black nose. “Go back to sleep, Captain,” she whispered and returned to her table.
The waitress arrived with her meal and fresh glass of Riesling. While Olivia savored the flavorful entree, Cora and Boyd pushed their empty dinner plates aside and began to indulge in yet another round of drinks.
“I’m going to have to put them up at a hotel,” Olivia murmured to herself. “They can’t drive back to Emerald Isle. They’ll be wrapped around a telephone pole trying to get out of the parking lot.”
Suddenly, Millay made a comment and then gave a flippant shrug of her shoulders. Whatever she said had no effect on Boyd or Harris, but Cora’s reaction was dramatic. Olivia saw the new bride’s stricken face in the mirror and watched as she jumped down from the barstool and lurched through the doors leading outside, Boyd staring after her, his mouth ajar in astonishment. After a pause, he took off in pursuit of his wife.
Olivia waved Harris over. “What happened?”
“Millay made some glib remark about them not having a kid at home to worry about, what with the day they’ve had. Cora’s eyes filled with tears and she tore out of here.”
Perplexed, Olivia pressed a wad of bills in Harris’s hand. “Drive them to a hotel, would you? They’re both blind drunk and I’m responsible for their state of inebriation. Tell them you picked up their dinner tab too. Let them think you’re some rich dot-com guy.”
With a nod to Olivia and a salute for Millay, Harris dashed outside.
Millay cleared the Vickers’ plates and glasses and then sank down in the chair opposite Olivia. “I didn’t touch a nerve until I mentioned kids. We talked about the cops, Nick, money, divorce, sex, and God knows what else and didn’t get so much as a facial tic. Drop the word ‘kid’ and Cora looks like she’s been kicked in the gut.”
“Well played,” Olivia told the bartender. “So Cora has something to hide and it has to do with a child.” She took a final sip of her wine and stood up, lost in thought. “The question is, what about a child? Did she want a baby? Did she lose a baby? Or did something tragic happen to her child? And if she had one, who’s the father?”
Millay fell into step with her as Olivia walked to the office to wake Haviland. “Not Boyd. He doesn’t know a damn thing about it.”
Olivia paused, an image of Laurel hesitating before entering her own house appearing in her mind’s eye. “Married people have secrets too. If Boyd wasn’t aware of that before, he is now. Poor fool.”
Chapter 10
Chief Rawlings showed up at Bagels ’n’ Beans wearing a particularly unattractive Hawaiian shirt. Olivia took one look at the yellow and green pineapple print and grimaced. “I take it you’re off duty?”
He placed a basket containing a toasted asiago bagel smeared with a generous layer of cream cheese on the table and sank into his chair with a sigh. “For the moment. I’m never really off the clock during an investigation as serious as this. I expect the media to descend on Oyster Bay today.” He glanced around the cafe, quickly assessing whether potential gossipmon-gers were close enough to overhear their conversation, but most of the eatery’s