Haviland appeared like a phantom from behind a dune and sniffed at the pile of displaced sand.
“Just a shotgun shell,” Olivia told him, placing the find in her bag. “That makes four this year.”
Standing up, Olivia surveyed the flat ocean. “I think we’ll bend the rules a bit this morning. Let’s walk back by the road and see if we can discover something more interesting.”
Trotting up to the unpaved track, Haviland happily searched the unfamiliar scents along the side of the road, his nose quivering with excitement.
Olivia hadn’t gone more than fifty yards before the metal detector indicated another coin possibility. However, after digging through the less yielding soil, she unearthed a second shotgun shell.
“Was someone picking off your relatives with a twelve gauge?” she demanded crossly of a curious gull and shoved the spent shell in her bag.
Overtly disregarding her customary rule to stop after a single find, Olivia continued to move the Bounty Hunter back and forth in a gentle sweep as she and Haviland turned toward home. A few hundred yards along the road, the buzz signaling yet another coin echoed in Olivia’s ears. She almost ignored it.
Haviland barked impatiently. He was ready for his breakfast, but Olivia wanted the ground to provide a distraction from Camden’s death, the upcoming Planning Board meeting, and her inability to complete the chapter describing Kamila’s reception by Pharaoh’s other concubines.
“We’ll go to Grumpy’s this morning, Captain. If you help me dig.”
Together, the pair set to work. After moving about a foot of dirt, Olivia sat back on her heels and wiped the sweat from her brow.
“Nothing!” she shouted in annoyance. Rising, she scanned the displaced soil with the metal detector and, when the panel blinked red, spooned the dirt into a sifter. Furiously shaking the dirt free, she ended up with several large pebbles, a twig, and a corroded circle the size of a penny.
Surrendering, Olivia dumped the unknown coin into her bag and increased her pace so that by the time she reached her house, she felt completely spent. After refreshing Haviland’s water bowl and taking a quick, tepid shower, Olivia grabbed her laptop and drove into town.
Dixie had a sixth sense when it came to her regular customers. She always seemed to know when they’d arrive and what they were in the mood to eat. Olivia’s usual table by the window had been wiped clean and set up with gleaming utensils, a spotless coffee cup, and a glass of tap water without ice.
Haviland jumped onto the booth across from Olivia and, after greeting Dixie with a toothy smile, focused his gaze on the passersby on the other side of the window.
“Florentine egg-white omelet for you, ma’am?” Dixie asked, her small hands looped under a pair of pink suspenders. The unlikely accessory was clipped to the waistband of a purple crinoline skirt, under which Dixie wore a pair of white spandex shorts. Frowning, she held up her pointer finger. “Nope. You don’t feel like eggs today. You want some comfort food. Something sweet and buttery. Am I right?”
“As usual,” Olivia agreed. “I’ll be decadent and have the Oyster Bay French Toast.”
“With a side of carcinogenic bacon?”
Olivia smiled. “Yes, please.” She examined the pieces of fabric covering her friend’s forearms and elbows. “Are those arm socks?”
“Arm warmers,” Dixie corrected. “They’re all the rage with the teenage girls. I borrowed my daughter’s just to see what all the fuss was about. Any luck on this morning’s treasure hunt?”
Haviland issued a muffled bark.
“Two shotgun shells and a coin. The coin’s soaking, but from what I could see, it’s an Indian Head penny. Can’t read the date yet.”
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.