There was an impatient tap on the office door. Rawlings shot Officer Cook a questioning glance.
“I was supposed to take this woman’s statement, sir. Then, she just up and disappeared on me.” The young man gave Olivia an accusatory stare.
Frowning, Rawlings said, “I’d like to speak to Ms. Limoges personally, Cook. I’ll return her to you when I’m through. In the meantime, I’d like you to get an update from the coroner.”
“Yes, sir!” Cook immediately brightened and Olivia was reminded of the policeman’s youth. He probably hated dealing with paperwork and had joined the force in search of action and excitement.
“Were you able to question Blake Talbot?” Olivia asked once they were alone again.
“Mr. Talbot had little to tell,” Rawlings grudgingly admitted. “He provided us with an alibi and then gave me his lawyer’s number in case I should have anything further to discuss.” His face darkened. “I can tolerate the Talbots’ money, their attempts to buy up every spare acre in Oyster Bay, and even the lack of imagination of that new condo development, but I cannot stand rudeness. And that boy! Well, let’s just say I’d have loved to put him over my knee and teach him some manners.”
Olivia smiled. “Some discipline would probably do him good.” She reached down and stroked Haviland’s curls. “Did you find any helpful witnesses? Did Camden actually go into the bar? What business did Blake have there?”
Rawlings drew in an impatient breath. “Ms. Limoges, this is an open case and I’m not at liberty to discuss it with a civilian. I shouldn’t even have said what I just said.” He sank back in his chair, as though his spine was too tired to support the weight of his torso.
The chief’s words settled for a moment. Rawlings looked out the window at the park and Olivia looked at him. There was something appealing about his gentleness and intelligence.
“It doesn’t sound as though you’ve got any solid leads,” Olivia remarked dejectedly. “Yet this crime is so unlike our town. The gruesomeness, the poem, the risk of being seen in the alleyway. It’s as though the killer wanted publicity.”
Rawlings raised his hand to stop her from continuing, but Olivia plowed on. “I really liked Camden Ford, Chief. I liked his energy, his ability to bring people together, his verve. All I want is to assist in any way I can. Our writer’s group ...” She paused, noting how good it felt to use such a pronoun. “We can work on unraveling the mystery of the haiku. Who better to help with a literary conundrum? Officer Cook?” Her tone was derisive. “Or us?”
“I’m no novice when it comes to poetry, Ms. Limoges,” Rawlings reminded her of his propensity for reading verse for pleasure.
“And I wouldn’t doubt you could solve a poetic riddle during normal circumstances,” Olivia conceded. “But you’ll soon have the media to face, evidence to examine, and hopefully, witnesses to question. Surely it is not outside the bounds of the law to allow well-meaning civilians to put forth a few theories about this particular clue.”
She could see Rawlings relenting. “I suppose there’s no harm in that.” He handed her a business card. “My cell phone number is listed here. Feel free to call me anytime.”
Olivia rose. “I can find my way back to Officer Cook.” Haviland got to his feet and leisurely joined her in the doorway. As Olivia reached out to grab the handle, something prompted her to turn back to Rawlings. He was regarding her with his kind smile. “And if you need to talk to someone about the case, when you’re off-duty of course, stop by The Boot Top. I’ll buy you a drink.”
His smile grew warmer. “Thank you, Ms. Limoges. Before this is all said and done, I may just take you up on that offer.”
Olivia found Officer Cook at a cluster of desks in a large room at the end of the hall. Harris was seated across from him.
“Hello!” Harris beamed, clearly welcoming the sight of a friendly face.
“I’m glad to see you,” Oliva said and sat down next to Harris. She noticed that the red flush across her friend’s cheeks, nose, and forehead was exacerbated. It looked raw and irritated. No doubt stress caused Harris’s skin condition to become more pronounced.
It’s such a shame, Olivia thought. He’d be quite handsome without that red face. She made a mental note to ask the aesthetician at the spa she frequented in New Bern if there were treatments available to alleviate the symptoms of rosacea.
“Sign here. We’ll call you if we need more information.” Officer Cook slapped a piece of paper on his desk. After Harris signed, Cook dismissed him without so much as a thank-you.
“May I speak to my friend for a moment?” Olivia inquired and then, without waiting for Cook’s permission, took Harris by the elbow and led him several steps away from the desk. “Do you have all of Camden’s chapters?”
Harris shook his head. “No, we just have the one. I know he wrote more, but I’ve never seen the rest of his work. Why?”
“Because if Blake Talbot has anything to do with Camden’s death, the reason might be hidden in Camden’s writing.” Olivia cast a glance over her shoulder. Cook was scowling at her while tapping a ballpoint pen impatiently against his computer keyboard. “Perhaps by getting to know Bradley Talcott more intimately, we might discover what recent scandal Camden was investigating regarding the Talbots.”
Harris turned the idea over for a long second. “That seems like a real possibility. Are you going to tell the cops?”
“Yes, but I also think we could assist the authorities by reviewing the manuscript ourselves. Where was Camden staying?”
“At The Yellow Lady.” Harris touched Olivia’s arm. “But we’re not going to be allowed in his room, are we? Isn’t that room and all Camden’s stuff, you know, off limits now?”
“Not to Mr. Cosmo Volakis. He was Camden’s partner and he’s on his way here from LA.” Olivia’s eyes narrowed with determination. She leaned toward Harris and whispered, “Set up an emergency meeting of the Bayside Book Writers. Anytime is good for me, but make sure everyone can attend. I’m going to offer my chauffeuring services to the good officer here, and, come hell or high water, I intend to get ahold of a copy of Camden’s work-in-progress for us to review.”
“How can you be so confident?” Harris’s tone was a mixture of admiration and doubt.
“Because Camden’s lover is going to want justice, even more than we do. And I cannot go on living my everyday life knowing that someone is out there, walking the streets of Oyster Bay, breathing the sea air and letting the sun fall on his face, when Camden isn’t. Camden’s life has been stolen from him, in our town, and we have to do everything in our power to see that the killer pays for what he did.”
Harris clenched his jaw and nodded, his eyes filled with resolve. Olivia caught a glimpse of the mettle coexisting with the young man’s kindness. Turning toward Cook, Olivia pasted on the most winsome smile she could muster.
“I am so sorry to keep you waiting, Officer,” she gushed. “I know you must have a dozen tasks of real significance to complete today. Please. Tell me what you need me to do.”
Looking quite satisfied, the officer leaned back in his chair, laced his fingers together, and tried his best to exude power and authority. “I just need you to review and sign your statement, Ms. Limoges. I doubt there’s anything else you could do to help us.”