“No.” Dixie piled Olivia’s silverware and crumpled napkins on top of the dirty plate. “For you.”
Bomb dropped, Dixie skated off to the kitchen with her tray. She then tarried at the two remaining tables, filling water cups, delivering a fresh syrup jug, fetching extra napkins, and exchanging small talk.
Haviland stood up, yawned, and stretched, indicating he’d had enough of the diner for one day.
“Just a few more minutes, Captain,” Olivia promised him. “Let me strangle the resident dwarf, and then we’ll be on our way.”
As though sensing her friend’s ire, Dixie lazily coasted back over to the window booth. “Ah, so now you’re chompin’ at the bit to hear about our witch. Well, I won’t keep you in suspense another second.” She grinned wryly. “Munin asked my cousin if he knew you. He said everybody knows who you are, but only a couple of folks know you well. The jackass mentioned my name and told Munin that you and I were friends. So the message came to me.”
Olivia felt a constriction in her gut. She sensed that once Dixie relayed the message, her life would be altered yet again. Perhaps not greatly, but she didn’t welcome any more change.
In the last year alone, she’d opened a second restaurant, reunited with a father she’d believed dead only to watch him die, discovered the existence of a half brother, and fallen for Oyster Bay’s chief of police. Olivia Limoges was a woman who liked to be in control of her own future, and as of late, she’d been unable to exert much influence over her fate.
She turned toward the window, observing locals and tourists going about their business unburdened by the press of circumstance. “What does the witch want from me?”
Dixie’s grin faded, replaced by a look of solemn concern. Because she was adept at concealing her feelings, it was easy to forget that Olivia had been put through the wringer over the past few months. Dixie spoke to her friend very gently. “Munin wants you to come to her. Says she’s got somethin’ of your mama’s to show you. Apparently, she’s been waitin’ for the right time to send for you, and now the time’s come.”
Olivia was unprepared for this. “That’s ridiculous. Why would my mother, a librarian and do-gooder, have given something to a woman known as the local witch? And I use that term loosely.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t,” Dixie warned. “If your mama handed over somethin’ she treasured, then she was lookin’ for help outside the normal realm. She obviously had a problem that couldn’t be fixed by the folks she knew. The question is, did she get what she needed from Munin?”
The tightening sensation in Olivia’s chest increased. It was difficult for her to picture her gentle and beautiful mother, the quiet and kind librarian, traipsing through a barely discernible track in the swamp in search of answers.
“I am
The family of four ambled out the door, waving at Dixie before leaving. Her mouth formed a smile, but her ale-brown eyes were troubled. “Munin said you wouldn’t agree at first. That was part of the message. I was supposed to wait for you to refuse and then tell you the rest. I wonder how she knew . . .”
Her impatience morphing into full-blown annoyance, Olivia growled, “Oh, please! What’s the magic word then? What’s going to convince me to hire a boat and douse myself in mosquito repellant so I can waste an entire day finding some crazy hag?”
Dixie gestured at the hollow in Olivia’s throat. Resting there was a golden starfish pendant attached to a delicate gold chain. Olivia’s mother had given it to her only child shortly before her tragic death. Since reclaiming the necklace from the dollhouse in her childhood room, Olivia wore it every day. She touched it during rare moments of uncertainty or distress. It was her talisman.
Knowing that she was pointing at a sacred object, Dixie swallowed hard and then continued. “Munin said she has your mama’s starfish, and if you want to know why, you’ll have to come. And soon.”
Olivia reached her hand out for Haviland, and he obediently moved closer. Her fingers sank into his soft curls, and her tilting world steadied itself. “This is a hell of a way to start my day,” she grumbled, overpaid Dixie for breakfast, and strode out into the sunshine, one hand gripping her laptop case, the other curled protectively around the gold starfish on her neck.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Ellery Adams grew up on a beach near the Long Island Sound. Having spent her adult life in a series of landlocked towns, she cherishes her memories of open water, violent storms, and the smell of the sea. Ms. Adams has held many jobs, including caterer, retail clerk, car salesperson, teacher, tutor, and tech writer, all the while penning poems, children’s books, and novels. She now writes full time from her home in Virginia. For more information, please visit www.elleryadamsmysteries.com.
A KILLER PLOT
A DEADLY CLICHE
THE LAST WORD
