Poisoned Prose (A Books by the Bay Mystery) (17 page)

Millay leaned over and read them aloud. “‘Secret, blue, curse, cold, Pa, ice, granddaddy, heart of trunk.’”

“If we combine those with Lowell’s do we get a tangible clue?” Olivia asked hopefully. She quickly reviewed the words Rawlings had sent her yesterday: “silver, moonlight, stones, and heart.”

“Half of these remind me of that annoying jewelry commercial we’re subjected to every holiday,” Harris said. “You know it, right?”

Laurel nodded. “Yes. The one that says that now’s the time to invest in a diamond because investing in a diamond is investing in your future?”

Olivia was grinning so widely that when Shelley arrived with Harris’s cheesecake she started to laugh. “Maybe I should fix you a pitcher of mojitos.”

“They help me think.” Olivia raised her glass to Shelley. “Keep ’em coming.”

Harris’s eyes went wide as he stared at his dessert. “Will you marry me?”

“I’ve already had two proposals today,” Shelley said. “And like I told those other gentlemen, my heart belongs to another. That first taste of love . . . sometimes it remains for a lifetime,” she mused dreamily and walked away.

Her remark made Olivia think of Flynn and Amabel. Flynn had clung to his affection for Violetta for two decades, and there was a possibility that Amabel had done the same thing. Flynn had admitted that he’d never recovered from Violetta’s betrayal, but he’d wooed Amabel first and then unceremoniously dumped her in favor of her sister. She was a woman scorned. And perhaps a woman who still harbored feelings for the man who’d hurt her so long ago.

“Love or money. Which is the motive?” Olivia murmured, sipping her cocktail. She looked up to find her friends gazing expectantly at her. “Diamonds. I think the family treasure is diamonds.”

Harris pushed his cheesecake aside and flattened a piece of wrinkled paper with his palm. “The genealogical info I got? It was about Josiah’s dad—the one who moved to Appalachia from New York.” When Millay gave him a hurry-up gesture, he frowned but continued. “Quentin Devereaux worked for Cartier Jewelers. And guess what happened the year he left New York? The store was robbed. It was one of the biggest jewelry heists in history, and the thieves were never caught.”

Laurel whistled. “What does the chief always say about coincidences?”

“He doesn’t believe in them,” Millay said and studied Harris. “Were you able to find exactly what was stolen?”

“Loose gems, mostly. The thieves were in and out in a matter of seconds.” He passed Millay the printout. “That’s why they got away. They weren’t greedy.”

“And they had an inside man,” Olivia pointed out. “Quentin Devereaux.”

Harris shrugged. “I have to agree, but he never fell under suspicion. He was a night-shift guard and was on duty when the robbery occurred. Was knocked out cold by one of the thieves. Must have been a convincing blow because he went back to work a week after the robbery. That’s all I could find on him until he bought the land in Whaley three months later.”

“He played it smart,” Millay said with a hint of admiration. “And he was patient. They probably watched him like hawks for weeks, but he just did his job and went back home until his bosses were certain that he wasn’t one of the bad guys.”

Laurel drummed her fingers against the list of words. “Half of these could be used to describe diamonds. What about ‘granddaddy’ and ‘Pa’? Do those terms refer to how the treasure’s been passed down?”

“Possibly,” Olivia said. “And I think ‘blue’ and ‘curse’ point to their blood disorder. The Methemoglobinemia was also passed down from Quentin to Josiah to Violetta and Elijah.”

“And that only occurred because Quentin’s Appalachian wife must have been a carrier too,” Harris added. “Do you know how slim those odds are? They’re like, ridiculously small.”

Laurel shook her head. “I can only imagine how Quentin felt when Josiah was born with his blue skin.”

“I’d say he felt cursed.” Millay grabbed Laurel’s hand and pointed at her wedding ring. “Maybe he thought his son was born blue because he ripped off the jewelry store. I seriously doubt the Appalachian docs could explain where the blue skin came from. I bet Quentin saw himself as a freak. But when his
son
wasn’t normal, he probably thought he was being punished for his crime.”

Millay’s explanation struck a chord with Olivia. “Cursed. If so, it explains why Quentin hid his haul. And why Josiah never touched the diamonds either.”

“I don’t know.” Harris was clearly dubious. “When Elijah got sick, Josiah already had two kids with blue skin, so why would he care any more? Why wouldn’t he use the diamonds to save his son?”

“What if Mrs. Devereux was pregnant?” Laurel said. “How badly would the couple want to deliver a healthy, normal baby?”

Millay nodded. “For a blonde, you’re pretty sharp. But someone tell me this: how does the word ‘silver’ fit into all these totally unfounded theories?”

“Or the word ‘cold’?” Harris asked and picked up Laurel’s list of words. “Alfred Hicks was out in the ‘cold,’ searching for the ‘heart of a trunk’ by ‘moonlight.’ And since Violetta’s murder and Lowell’s attack happened
after
Hicks was killed, there’s only one explanation as to why the murderer hasn’t stopped.”

The friends stared at Harris until Olivia demanded, “And what’s that?”

“Violetta had the diamonds on her. Whoever pushed Hicks off the cliff figured that out and followed her here.”

Millay snorted. “Why would his killer wait six months?”

“Why indeed? Unless your store is going under, and you’ve arranged a storyteller’s retreat in your own back-yard? A retreat that would bring an old flame and a fortune in diamonds into town,” Olivia said and finished her drink.

“You think Flynn murdered Hicks? And then lured Violetta here for a second chance at the diamonds? There are some serious holes in that theory,” Harris pointed out. “Then again, he’s gone missing. That makes him look pretty guilty.”

“Flynn.” Laurel ran her hands through her hair. “I just can’t see him killing two people for money. When I think of all the times I’ve taken the twins to Through the Wardrobe to listen to him read . . .” She swallowed hard.

“It’s not only about the diamonds for him.” Olivia wanted to phrase her next words carefully so as not to pour salt in Harris’s raw wound, but there was no way to tiptoe around the subject. “Violetta broke his heart. It was hard for me to believe that he hadn’t gotten over the pain after all this time, but if you’d heard him Tuesday night, you’d know that he hasn’t. He never will.”

Harris gave Millay an accusing stare as he muttered, “Betrayed with a kiss. Is that what Flynn did to Violetta before asphyxiating her?”

Olivia’s mind instantly formed an image of Flynn’s lips pressing a featherlight kiss to Violetta’s blue skin before slipping the plastic bag over her head. She shivered and rubbed her bare arms.

“If he’s the killer, then why did he go after Lowell?” Millay argued softly.

“Either Lowell realized that it was Flynn who pushed Hicks, or Violetta refused to tell Flynn where the diamonds were and he thought Lowell was wise to their location,” Olivia surmised. “Dixie told Rawlings that the words in Lowell’s pocket were typed using a font designed for Apple computers. Lowell has only used a computer in prison, and it wasn’t an Apple. However, Alfred Hicks’s missing laptop was a MacBook Pro.”

Millay suddenly released a groan of frustration. “We’re talking in circles here. It’s totally creative of us to come up with all these stories, but can we stroll into the station with them and tell the chief that we know what happened to Hicks, Violetta, or Lowell? No.” She banged the table in frustration. “These words aren’t evidence. We’re cobbling a new tale out of a bunch of story fragments because we’re totally desperate. We have nothing tangible to bring to Rawlings.”

Her declaration silenced the group, and Olivia had to wonder if their meeting had been a waste of time. So what if they believed the treasure consisted of stolen diamonds? All signs pointed to Flynn as the killer, but no one knew where he was. Would raising the subject of the treasure change the statements Amabel and Greg had already given to the police? Olivia doubted it. Still, Rawlings would want to hear their theories. Any leads, even false ones, would give him a clearer picture of this convoluted case.

Olivia was just about to suggest that the Bayside Book Writers adjourn so that she could drive to the station when her phone, which was set to vibrate, buzzed. Glancing at the screen, she gasped.

“Lowell’s awake!” she told her friends. “Dixie just got a call from the hospital. She’s on her way there now.”

“Oh, Lord, that is such good news!” Laurel’s face flushed with joyous relief. “He can tell the chief who attacked him, and we can get on with our lives.”

Harris darted a quick look at Millay and then put a hand on Laurel’s. “Which makes this as good a time as any to tell you that I’m moving to Texas.”

“What?” Laurel was clearly stricken, and Olivia felt her stomach lurch. She knew this would probably happen, but to hear Harris speak the words aloud was a blow. Everything would change now. Nothing would ever be the same.

“Just for six months. Unless I really like it there,” Harris hastened to add.

Laurel gaped. “But why?” Confused, she turned to Millay. “I thought you two would work things out. I thought . . .” She looked at Harris again, her blue eyes growing moist with unshed tears. “What about your writing?”

Harris shrugged. “I’m done. You guys have helped me so much that all I have left to do now is to polish the manuscript and see if anyone wants it. It’s time for some new challenges, you know? In my writing and my job and, well, in other areas of my life too. I need a change of scenery.”

Laurel grabbed both of his hands in hers and squeezed. “You have to come back, Harris. I need this group just the way it is now. I look forward to our meetings so much, and you’re one of the reasons why. You’re a funny, generous, brilliant, awesome guy. Don’t stay in Texas. Please don’t stay there.”

Harris smiled. “I’ll keep in touch. Promise. And I’ll read and critique anything you want to send me.”

“When do you leave?” Olivia asked.

“Two weeks,” Harris said.

Laurel sighed. “I’d like to try to talk you out of this, but I have to go home.” She leaned over and kissed Harris on the cheek. “No matter what you do, Harris Williams, know that your friends are in Oyster Bay. This group and my family are what make this town my home. So you go have your little adventure, but then you come home, you hear me?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Harris saluted Laurel. She left, wiping her eyes, and Harris gathered his things. “I’ll keep looking into the genealogical stuff,” he said to Olivia. “And I’ll mull over everything we know. Maybe some of the pieces will rearrange themselves in my head, and I’ll think of something that could help the chief.”

Olivia got to her feet and put a hand on his shoulder. “Thanks, Harris. And I echo everything that Laurel said. You’re like a diamond in the rough, and personally, I like you that way. Don’t get too polished. All of us are flawed. It’s what brought us together. It’s what keeps us writing. It gives us character. And you are an amazing character.”

Unexpectedly, Harris turned and gave her a fierce hug. “Save my spot, Olivia.”

A lump formed in Olivia’s throat, and she was unable to reply. Harris wished Millay a good night and then left the desserterie.

“You’re all going to hate me, aren’t you?” Millay asked when he was gone.

“Never,” Olivia said after she’d collected herself. “You told him how you felt, and he made a decision. That’s better than stringing him along. And I know you’re just as miserable as he is. You both need a new start, but don’t you go running off to another state. If you do, I will track you down and drag you back here by the hair.”

Millay cracked a smile. “That might be tough. I’ve been thinking about getting a Mohawk.”

After Millay was gone, Olivia lingered behind to pay the bill. She hadn’t stopped at the ATM for ages and had to use a credit card. After praising Shelley again for the refreshing mojito, she stepped out into the dusky evening. Because it was the height of summer, darkness wouldn’t fall for hours yet, but a wall of clouds had blocked the sun and the hazy sky seemed gray and tired.

The alley behind the shops was deserted. Most of the merchants had gone home, and the only sound came from the radio in Shelley’s kitchen. Olivia paused to look at the flourishing hibiscus tree on the patio. Its lacy blooms were a bluish lavender that reminded Olivia of Violetta. The plant was healthy and lush—a refreshing sight in a time of drought. The whole world seemed gray and beige, and yet here was a burst of periwinkle and bright green. The tree gave Olivia hope. She got in her car thinking that if a plant could survive hardship with constant care, then so could the Bayside Book Writers. They just couldn’t give up on one another, no matter what happened.

And suddenly, Olivia desperately wanted to see Rawlings, to share everything the group had talked about at Decadence, but also to tell him that she was ready to open her house and her heart to him. Every part of her heart. She was terrified, but she was willing to take the risk.

But the moment she turned on her engine, a hand encircled her neck, and she released a garbled cry of surprise.

“I need to talk to you,” Flynn said from her backseat. His voice was chillingly calm. “Don’t do anything stupid. Just drive.”

Olivia glanced in the rearview mirror. She hardly recognized the man behind her. His face was haggard, his hair was wild, and his eyes bored into her reflection. “Where?” she asked, hating how her hands trembled on the steering wheel.

“To the lighthouse,” he whispered. “We’re going all the way to the top. No one will interrupt us there. Trust me, Olivia, that’s a good thing. Because I’m about to tell you the most memorable story you’ve ever heard.”

Darkness reigns at the foot of the lighthouse.

—
J
APANESE
P
ROVERB

O
livia didn’t follow Flynn’s directions immediately. She risked several precious seconds weighing her options. Other than trying to call Rawlings on her cell phone or opening the car window to scream for help, she couldn’t think of a surefire way to save herself. She doubted she could even reach her phone without Flynn noticing, and it was unlikely that Shelly or the Decadence kitchen staff would hear her shouts over the noise of the radio. And even if they did, how would Flynn respond?

As if in answer to her unspoken question, Flynn’s fingers dug into her skin. “Don’t do anything to keep me from telling my story. If you do, I’ll be forced to use this.”

Olivia felt the cold kiss of metal against her neck. She hadn’t even known that Flynn owned a gun.

Glancing in the rearview mirror, she said, “I have to be able to move if you want me to back out. This is a tight spot, and I need to turn my head to see what’s behind me.” Her voice was surprisingly steady.

The hand on her neck fell away, but Flynn kept the pistol barrel pointed at her head. Olivia put the car in reverse and accelerated gently. Then, spying a cluster of garbage cans in her rearview mirror, she pressed down on the pedal, slamming the Range Rover into the cans. They made a dull crunch against her bumper and then fell over with a thud, but that was all. No one came rushing out of Decadence to see what had happened, and Olivia knew she’d failed to draw attention to her plight.

“That’s the only free pass you get,” Flynn snarled into her ear. “Screw with me again and Haviland will pay the price.”

The words were more frightening than the gun or Flynn’s hands around her throat. Olivia felt a wave of nausea wash over her, and she had to fight to keep the car in the middle of the alley. “How did you get to him?” she asked in a childlike quaver.

“Most folks don’t know that Diane and I have called it quits. And since she’s your vet and has watched your dog before, it didn’t seem that strange for me to be picking him up on your behalf.” Flynn smiled. “It’s nice to know that Haviland still trusts me. He hopped in the car with his tail wagging. Gentle as a lamb.”

Olivia stared at him in the rearview mirror. She saw the flash of his teeth as he smiled, and she wanted nothing more than to slam on the brakes and hope that his face would smash against the windshield. As Olivia drove out of town, she tried to think of how she could deliberately crash and still survive while killing Flynn or at least rendering him unconscious, but she had no idea how to accomplish such a feat. Not only was he shielded by her seat, but if she suddenly accelerated, he’d only jam the gun barrel against her neck. And he had Haviland. The thought had her clenching her jaw in fear.

Olivia tried to calm herself. She needed to be sharp and lucid, to not be ruled by her emotions. But it was hard. So hard. She’d never felt such hatred toward another person before. Fury surged through her, white-hot and fierce. “If you so much as scratch him, I will kill you,” she promised, her eyes dark in the mirror. “Go ahead and shoot me. I’ll come back from the grave and haunt you. You’d better fire every bullet in that magazine because if you don’t, I will end you.”

“I don’t want to hurt him, Olivia. You either,” Flynn said, his tone morose and almost regretful. “Nothing will happen unless you force my hand.”

Olivia drove out of the business district and turned onto the narrow road leading to the Point. There was rarely any traffic on this quiet stretch, and Olivia knew the chances of someone seeing Flynn in the back of her car were slim. Glancing out the passenger window, she noticed how the clouds had multiplied and darkened since she’d first gone into Decadence.

When she pulled in front of the lighthouse keeper’s cottage, Flynn released a pent-up sigh. He then leaned over the seat, grabbed Olivia’s purse, and threw it on the floor by his feet. “I just need you to listen to me for a little while, and then this will be over. Get out. We’re going to the lighthouse.”

Olivia did as she was told. Every time she was tempted to turn and fight, she pictured Haviland as she’d last seen him in her office at The Boot Top Bistro. Right now, she didn’t even know where he was, and if anything happened to Flynn, she might not be able to find where he’d hidden her dog. Flynn had found her Achilles’ heel. He knew that she would do anything to keep Haviland safe. It was the only thing that would have her walking so meekly alongside a madman with a gun.

Flynn was moving fast. He kept his hand on Olivia’s lower back, pushing her forward so quickly that she nearly stumbled over the uneven sand. When they reached the lighthouse and Flynn discovered that the door was locked, he kicked it a few times and then, without the slightest warning, raised his gun and shot the lock. It flew into the sand, the metal twisted and blackened, and rested there like some kind of charred beetle. The gunfire echoed over the water, but Olivia knew that it didn’t matter. Her closest neighbors were an elderly couple who suffered from hearing loss, and the rest of the beach was completely deserted. Even the birds had fled, leaving only the low, gray clouds and the incoming waves, which were hurrying into shore. The lazy curls of the past few weeks were gone. These waves seemed aggressive. Almost angry. The air was charged too, as if the sea and sky were in collusion. And yet, there was a certain still quality to the entire scene.

A storm is brewing
, Olivia thought, and then Flynn propelled her into the lighthouse. They walked up and up the curving staircase and stepped out onto the balcony. The enormous beacon light rotated behind them, its bright beam scorching the dark sky.

“Sit down,” Flynn commanded and waited for Olivia to comply before lowering himself to the ground. He then leaned against the wall and looked at her, the gun propped on his right knee. Half of his face was in shadow; the other half was illuminated by the blinding light.

Olivia expected him to speak, but he simply stared at her. Discomfited, she broke eye contact and examined the sky, unable to see either sun or moon behind the thickening clouds. A breeze touched her cheek and lifted strands of her hair. It carried the sea on its breath, and she drew strength from the scent.

“Where does it all start?” she asked Flynn, impatience winning out over caution. “With Hicks? Do you want to confess to his murder?” When her questions were met with a stony silence, she made herself speak more gently. “Tell me the story. Your story.”

“I haven’t killed anyone,” he finally said and then looked down at his gun and frowned as if wondering how it came to be in his hand. “It wasn’t me.”

Flynn seemed to have become lost in the thoughts he’d seemed so keen on voicing. Olivia wanted to hear them. She needed to know the truth, to discern how dangerous he really was. This man she’d shared meals and books and nights in bed with. A man who’d been a stranger all along.

“Does it begin with the diamonds?” she asked. In a flash, Flynn leapt up and was at her side. He seized her wrist and pressed the gun against her sternum. On the other side of the bone, her heart hammered in terror.

“Where are they? Where are the diamonds?” Flynn asked, shaking her wrist. His eyes were wild, feverish.

Olivia shook her head. “I don’t know. My friends and I were meeting at Decadence to talk about Violetta’s treasure. We guessed that it had to be diamonds, and Harris confirmed our theory by tracing Quentin Devereaux’s history.” When Flynn didn’t ease his grip, she repeated her first statement. “I don’t know where they are!” She tried to jerk her hand free. “We thought you had them. That you lured Violetta to Oyster Bay to steal them from her.”

Flynn abruptly let go, putting both hands to his head in astonishment. “Steal?” His voice turned cold with anger. “
Steal?
She owed
me
. All I wanted was what she owed me. If she’d just given me something . . .” He backed away, restoring the distance between Olivia and himself.

Olivia rubbed her sore wrist. “How could you be sure that Violetta would bring the diamonds to Oyster Bay?”

“Amabel told me she would. She guessed that Violetta kept them close at all times. To her, the diamonds had become a symbol of Elijah. The treasure that could have saved him became her personal talisman. Violetta took them when she left home, and Amabel’s wanted them for herself ever since. Unlike her sister, Amabel was going to use them to change her life. And mine. She even roped Greg in on the scheme, though I wasn’t aware of his involvement. I wouldn’t have approved.”

“Because your share would be further divided.” Olivia tried to keep the disgust from her voice.

Flynn shook his head. “They were worth over two million dollars, Olivia. I did my research. I read everything I could find about the Cartier theft. I made phone calls to jewelers in New York’s Diamond District. For decades, Violetta carried around that fortune, denying the rest of her family a brighter future. She was going to punish them all for the rest of her days. Even Amabel, who loved Elijah too.”

“Do you know where Violetta hid the diamonds?”

“Unfortunately, Amabel couldn’t tell me that, but she knew lots of useful details that could help me get my hands on them.” Flynn averted his gaze. “Like how Violetta dressed in hunting gear and waited for Hicks to climb to the top of a cliff so she could push him off.”

Now it was Olivia’s turn to be astounded. “
Violetta?
But why?”

“Hicks’s research wasn’t just about folktales. He was a big fan of true crime, and when he deduced that Quentin Devereaux had been involved in one of the biggest jewelry heists in American history, he decided to make a name for himself writing about it. The storytelling angle was a foil, a way for him to get close to members of the Devereaux family. But he made a huge mistake. After interviewing Vi, he accidentally left his notebook behind. Vi read his outline. She read how he was going to expose the family medical condition and describe how all the Devereauxes stood by and let Elijah die. He brought back the past she’d buried. And he planned to bring her oldest and worst nightmares to life and invite thousands of strangers to read about them. Violetta wouldn’t stand for that. Never.”

“And Amabel knew all of this?”

Flynn nodded. “Yes, but not until after Hicks’s death. She wanted the diamonds too and had never realized that Violetta knew where they were. So she paid her younger sister a visit at another storytelling event in Charlotte. The two of them hit the whiskey, and Vi started boasting about how she’d woven landmarks into the stories she performed when Hicks was listening. Vi even had the gullible fool believing there were rocks in the riverbed that would only sparkle under a full moon, pointing a sharp-eyed observer to the tree trunk where the treasure was stashed. Hicks bought every word. And why wouldn’t he? She could make-believe anything. It was her gift.”

Olivia recalled Violetta’s performance in Oyster Bay’s library. “She was truly remarkable.”

“And Hicks thought he was
so
clever for unraveling her riddle,” Flynn said scornfully. “He went so far as to hire Lowell to accompany him that winter evening because he wanted someone to bear witness to what was certain to become a famous discovery. He promised Lowell that if he found the diamonds, he’d return the entire stash to Violetta right away. He didn’t find the treasure. And Amabel was smart enough to know that the diamonds weren’t out in the woods. She figured out that Violetta left a false trail for Hicks because she knew the real location of the gems—that she’d taken them with her when she left home all those years ago.”

“So Lowell wasn’t in on Violetta’s scheme?”

“No,” Flynn said.

Olivia studied him. “How can you be so sure?”

An expression of bleak remorse crossed Flynn’s face. “I overheard Vi and Amabel talking after the performance at the Oyster Bay library. Greg was there too. In that room behind the stage Vi was using as a dressing room.” He put the gun down and laced his fingers together. “I wanted to see Violetta alone. She’d refused all my earlier attempts and I knew she’d be back there, so I left the party in the lobby. Apparently, Amabel and Greg did too. They wanted the diamonds. But I wanted even more than that. I wanted Vi to say she was sorry. And I wanted her to repay the loan from all those years ago. The bookstore’s in trouble, you see.” His glance pleaded for Olivia to understand.

“You should have come to me, Flynn. I would have helped. Gladly.”

He waved off the notion. “No. Don’t you see? She owed me.”

Thoughts whirled in Olivia’s mind like confetti in a shaken snow globe. “But Leona saw you going into the restroom looking distraught. She said your tie was loose and askew.”

Flynn gazed out at the sea, which had turned as gray as the sky. “That tie was too tight. I felt like I couldn’t breathe.” His voice was barely a whisper. “Like I was the one who’d had a bag put over my head. But it wasn’t my tie that went around her throat. It was Greg’s.”

The beam of light spun around and around, and Olivia closed her eyes against it, returning to the evening of Violetta’s death. She saw the storyteller onstage, her face and eyes awash in that ethereal blue glow, her finger pointing accusingly at someone in the audience. Had she known that she had more than one enemy in the crowd? She must have looked at Greg, Amabel, and Flynn and seen something dark and lethal in all of their eyes.

She said that this place was her Gethsemane
, Olivia thought. Violetta had known that someone she’d once been close to was likely to betray her, steal her treasure, and end her life.

“Greg was her lover,” Olivia said aloud. “Greg was with her Thursday night. Not you. He was the man she used and then tossed aside like trash. He was the man who had a plan to make her pay for how he’d been treated.”

Flynn was staring at Olivia mournfully. “That’s how she went through life. People adored her, were spellbound by her, fell deeply in love with her, and could never touch her. Not here.” He tapped the center of his chest. “She was as hard and cold as those diamonds. Greg made her pay for that. Amabel asked her over and over where the diamonds were hidden, and she responded by laughing at them. She laughed until the air was all gone.”