Dixie shook her head. “That’s a lot of effort for a penny, isn’t it? No wonder you stay so damned thin. Let me put your order in and then I’ll come back and fill you in on some gossip you’ll find
very
interesting.” With a wink, she skated off to the kitchen.
Booting up her laptop, Olivia tried to immerse herself in her ancient Egyptian setting. She imagined Kamila bathing in a cool, shallow pool filled with floating lotus blossoms. Afterward, she’d rub her skin with costly oils and drape herself in the thinnest linen shift. Sitting on a low stool in the morning’s sunshine, Kamila would comb out her long, black tresses as she watched an ibis strut around the lush, private garden.
Just as Kamila was attempting to make friendly overtures toward a group of three older concubines, Dixie returned with Olivia’s bacon and a platter of meat and eggs for Haviland.
“So,” Dixie began. “You know Grumpy’s got a cousin who works at the airport?”
“Grumpy’s got a cousin working in every profession in the county,” Olivia remarked.
Dixie smirked. “Probably three counties. But
this
cousin likes to tell us when the fancy planes come in. He keeps a list of them in a notebook. Writes down the rich or famous passengers whenever he can recognize them.” She paused, waiting for Olivia to sample her bacon. “Guess who flew in as early as the cock crows this morning?”
“One of the Talbots?” Olivia deduced.
Looking disappointed, Dixie scowled. “You’re no fun. How’d you know that?”
“Our writing group has been researching the family. Dean likes to appear and soften up the locals prior to any vote that might influence one of his bigger projects. He’s got less than a week to butter up all the Planning Board members. I guess the Ocean Vista condos weren’t grand enough to get him down here,” Olivia remarked. “’ Course, we all approved that development in a flash. It was the first time somebody realized Oyster Bay was a real gem. Shows you how smart Talbot is. He decided to build before that
Time
article was ever written.”
A ring sounded from the pick-up window and Grumpy’s quizzical eyes searched out his wife. Seeing her positioned for a good long chat, he pointed at the platters of food and then turned away to focus on his grill.
“Be right back.” Dixie skated off to deliver tall stacks of pancakes to the patrons seated in the
Phantom of the Opera
booth. She whisked back to the kitchen, grabbed Olivia’s order and two stainless steel containers of warm pure maple syrup and, after depositing the first with the pancake eaters, returned to Olivia’s table.
Easing the heavy porcelain platter onto the table, Dixie said, “Don’t see that Talbot’s got too much convincing to do on this project either. Grumpy and Roy are voting for the new development and you know damn well Ed Campbell is going to say aye. After all, he’ll be signing a load of new loans for the folks who want to buy those houses. Shoot, Ed’ll probably be made president of the bank before they finish pouring the first foundation.”
Chewing on a piece of soft, cinnamon-laced French toast, Olivia silently agreed. “That leaves Marlene and me and whether the two of us have issues with the lack of green space or the displacement of wildlife doesn’t much matter, does it? Cottage Cove is going through. It only takes a majority to pass a proposal and the majority will vote in favor of this one.”
Dixie chucked Olivia on the arm. “Don’t sound so down. Think of the treasures you could find when they start digging up the park land.”
Olivia immediately envisioned the grumbling excavators as they crunched the soil with their metal teeth. Thinking of an excavator biting through the crumbing steps and collapsing the iron fence surrounding the tiny graveyard forced her to put her fork down.
“How did you find out how Roy was going to vote so quickly?” she asked Dixie, hoping to expunge the image of the decimated burial site from her mind.
The customers in the
Cats
booth were signaling Dixie for their check. She smiled and nodded at them but didn’t move. Turning back to Olivia as though she had all the time in the world, she leisurely continued their conversation. “Annie and Roy and that brother of his were parked right next to us last night. We couldn’t help but trade thoughts on the proposal.”
“I met Atlas Kraus after the meeting as well. He seemed ... odd.” Olivia was fishing, hoping Dixie would reveal her take on the stranger. Olivia trusted her friend’s ability to read people.
“Not odd. I can warm up to odd.
I’m
odd. You havin’ a dog for a best friend is odd. No offense, love.” She blew a kiss at Haviland. “Annie told me that her brother-in-law used to have a family of his own in Idaho or Iowa. Wife left him and took their kid to another state. Told him not to call or visit. Ever. Can you imagine? Anyhow, word is he hasn’t been the same since.” Dixie pulled a sympathetic face and began to skate away. Looking over her shoulder, she paused. “He’s got a damaged look to him, but maybe this town can heal him like it’s been healin’ you.”
With Dixie’s words echoing in her head, Olivia left Grumpy’s and drove straight to The Yellow Lady. Cosmo waved to her from the front porch, looking refreshed and comfortable. He was seated in one of the cushioned wicker chairs and had his feet propped on a pillowed ottoman. He cradled a mug of coffee in both hands and a selection of newspapers sat on an end table nearby. A stack of eight-by-eleven typed papers rested on his lap.
“Good morning, Goddess of the Carolina Coast.” Cosmo set down his coffee, clasped the papers against his chest, and jumped up in order to kiss Olivia on both cheeks. He then performed a sweeping bow in Haviland’s honor, but the poodle was more interested in finding a shady spot to rest than in flattery. His belly stuffed, he waddled over to one of the mammoth potted ferns, stretched out beneath its emerald fronds, and closed his eyes.
“Excuse Haviland’s rudeness. He overindulged this morning. But you’re looking well,” Olivia informed Cosmo pleasantly as she took the seat on the other side of the end table. The wicker creaked and crackled as she settled into the chair. She placed her forearms on the armrests, frowning. She didn’t like furniture that protested over having to bear the weight of a human body.
Cosmo waved off her compliment. “If I let Annie feed me one more comfort meal you’re going to have to transport me in a pickup truck bed. Go right ahead and line it with hay. Then a nice, talking spider can write words in her web to spare my being turned into Greek sausage links!”
Olivia laughed.
The two of them fell silent for a moment, listening to the buzzing of insects and the sound of a lawn mower rumbling in a neighboring yard.
“I hear they’re questioning a suspect down at the police station,” Cosmo said softly and caressed Camden’s pages. “Some man named Jethro. Do you know him?”
“I didn’t know he’d been taken into custody, though I was aware that the chief had questions for him,” Olivia answered after a moment. “Jethro’s an army vet. He makes his living selling clams and oysters. Resides on a houseboat and generally keeps to himself.”
Cosmo’s lovely eyes turned dark. He suddenly squeezed them shut in pain. “Why would he hurt Cam?”
Olivia’s gaze traveled beyond the porch to a bed of calla lilies and lantana. “Honestly, I can’t see why he would, but I don’t know him personally, Cosmo. I do have a hard time believing he reads or writes poetry, but the chief must have his reasons for considering him a suspect”
“There must be thousands of those little poems out in the world, Olivia.” Cosmo gestured at the packet in his lap. “There’s all kinds of creative writing for the taking on the Web. Maybe the poem wasn’t an original. Maybe this Jethro is some kind of plagiarizing psychopath.”
Choosing her words carefully, Olivia said, “You raise a valid point about the poem. I shouldn’t have assumed it was original just because I couldn’t find it on the Internet. You may also be on target regarding Jethro.” She paused, considering. “He may be unstable. He may even suffer from post-traumatic stress disorder. Still, I can’t help but wonder why he’d randomly attack Camden. There’s no connecting factor between the two mean.” Olivia thought of Millay’s strong conviction that Jethro wasn’t involved in the murder. She had to talk to her soon and find out once and for all why the young bartender had such unshakable faith in Jethro’s innocence.
Cosmo raised both hands into the air. “Do you think only LA has crazies? There are broken people everywhere! In every apartment complex, every mansion, and every house—even the floating kind.” He sank back into his seat and took a deep breath. “Anyway, this is all trickle-down gossip delivered by the friendly, neighborhood mail lady. I want to go down to Chief Rawlings’ office
this
minute and find out if he’s beaten a confession out of this . . . person.”
At first, Olivia thought Cosmo might be joking, but one look at his face confirmed that he was completely serious. She reached over, ignoring the complaining wicker, and grabbed his hand. “The chief may still be interrogating Jethro or searching his boat. He isn’t going to provide you with specifics. It’s more likely Rawlings will politely send you on your way and you’ll be more stirred up than before.” She squeezed his hand. “Come to The Boot Top for dinner tonight. I’m having drinks with Rawlings beforehand. Any information I can wheedle out of him during the cocktail hour will be yours for the hearing over a bottle of my finest wine.”
Sighing theatrically, Cosmo relented.
“Fine.
I have work to do anyway. When I checked my voicemail yesterday, I had a message from the agent to that
American Idol
star. I can’t remember his name at the moment. I don’t watch those silly reality shows.
I
prefer
fantasy.
” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Well, this rich, handsome singer wants his
Malibu
beach house to remind him of a southern beach, so I’m going to spend the morning collecting seashells and taking a
billion
photographs.”
“You should visit the town’s new bookstore as well,” Olivia suggested. “The owner’s name is Flynn McNulty and he has some gorgeous coffee table books on Coastal Carolina with one-of-a-kind color plates.” She rose and snapped her fingers lightly. Haviland got to his feet, blinking sleepily, and leaned his head against her leg. Her hand automatically reached down and stroked the soft fur of his ear. “I’ll send one of my employees to pick you up at eight. Good luck with your research and if you do visit the bookstore, Through the Wardrobe, do
not
drink Mr. McNulty’s coffee.”
Cosmo, who had stopped in the act of raising his coffee cup to his lips, paused. “Is there such a thing as bad coffee? If I can drink
Starburnt
I can drink anything.”
“If you say so, but I felt it was my civic duty to warn you. See you tonight.” Olivia smiled and walked away.
Olivia returned home to work on her latest chapter and to check on the soaking coin. She let Haviland loose in the yard and removed the penny from its vinegar-based solution. Scrubbing the remaining debris from the surface, she rinsed it off beneath a gentle flow of warm tap water. The penny felt slightly thicker between her fingers than a modern penny.
Excited, Olivia grabbed a jeweler’s loupe from her desk drawer and moved to the window. Holding the coin beneath the magnifying tool, she could see the distinct profile of an Indian Head penny. Though the edges of the coin were well worn, the raised silhouette was in good shape. The native’s mouth hung open as though he was in a state of shock and his eye sockets seemed dark and haunted. Olivia traced the feathers of his headdress with her fingertip.
“Eighteen sixty-three. So you were around to witness the War Between the States.” She turned the coin over, enjoying the feel of the aged copper and nickel.
Closing the penny in her fist, a thought popped into her mind. She opened the pocket calendar she kept in her purse and flipped to the notes she’d taken after visiting the cemetery at the Neuse River Park the day before. The name Henry Bragg leapt from the page.
“That’s why Jethro’s name sounded familiar!” she exclaimed as she noticed Haviland’s face at the deck door. She let him in without taking her eyes from the notebook. “Henry
must
be Jethro’s relative. And with Jethro being a veteran, I can understand why he’d feel passionate about the graveyard being disturbed.”
Removing the lid of a jumbo pickle jar, Olivia dropped the coin and the shotgun shells inside. The metal objects clinked against the vintage razor case she’d collected a few weeks ago and the stainless watchband she’d found last time she and Haviland had ventured forth with the Bounty Hunter.
Olivia stared unseeing at the trinkets. “Camden
must
have discovered something beyond the fact that Talbot Properties wants to build this housing development. He
must
have learned something about Blake Talbot’s dark business deal. But what? How does the park fit in? How does Jethro fit in?”
Haviland whined and placed his front paws on the edge of Olivia’s writing desk, nudging the computer mouse with his nose.
“You’re right, Captain Task Master. No more procrastinating. I’ll read Millay’s chapter before I work on my own if that’s suitable.”
Sitting upright, Haviland stared at her expectantly. Olivia retrieved Millay’s document from the Bayside Book Writers file on the computer. Haviland cocked his ears as Olivia read aloud.
“Tessa didn’t want to die.
“She stood on the cliff edge, looking down at the surging sea. Her black hair wriggled free from its silk band and flowed out behind her like a pennant. The wind whipped at the voluminous skirts of her white Initiate gown, but Tessa was too frightened to feel the cold.
“She was one of many. Two hundred Initiates would be pushed from the cliff top this dawn.
“Most would meet their death in the freezing waters far below, their bloated bodies washing to shore hours or even days later.
“Thirteen young girls would not die.
“Thirteen young girls would fly.
“ ‘It’s in your blood, lass,’ her nanny told her as she laced up the back of her white dress. ‘You are not destined to drown this day.’
“Tessa could feel the rapid breathing of her Pusher. Standing a foot behind her, his warm exhalations fell onto the pale skin just under her left earlobe. The Priestess of the Initiates began to chant in a clear voice that was carried to every girl and hooded Pusher by means of powerful magic.
“The man behind Tessa took a step toward her. She drew in a quick breath. A pair of strong hands closed around her arms.
“She stiffened. Her time was running out faster than the grains of sea salt in her nanny’s hourglass.
“ ‘Do not be afraid, beauty.’ The man’s rough whisper momentarily distracted Tessa from the ancient words of the Mistress. It’ll be over soon, for better or for worse. May the gods show pity on you lasses.’
“Then, he lifted his voice so that it mingled with the Priestess’s and those of the other men. ‘You fall or you fly. We keep the blood pure. This is the way of the Gryphini. This is the way of the Gryphon Warriors.’
“The man pressed his hands against Tessa’s shoulder blades.
“He pushed her off the cliff.”