your warehouse?” Olivia suggested, placing a fat roll of twenty-dollar bills into the woman’s hands. “And I would certainly make it well worth the while of the gentlemen delivering my new furnishings if they could arrive at my cottage, say, by five this afternoon?” Placing her credit card and a calling card bearing her name, address, and phone number on the designer’s desk, Olivia met the other woman’s eye.
“I’m going to check on my dog,” she announced. “I’ll be back in to sign my receipt in a moment.”
She had been right in assuming that the decorator wanted to examine the wad of twenties more closely before agreeing to the deal. Olivia was also confident that four hundred dollars in cash would sway most people into figuring out a way to break the rules, especially since no one would be the worse for the transgression.
After promising Haviland that her errand was almost complete, Olivia walked briskly back into the store, scribbled signatures on several pieces of paper, and then drove off in search of some colorful art.
“Don’t worry. We’re going to eat first, Captain. Should we be naughty today?”
Haviland knew perfectly well that naughty meant unhealthy and offered a jubilant bark. Thirty minutes later, the pair was seated at a patio table, enjoying the shade of the umbrella as they dined on tender cheeseburgers and thin, crunchy curls of fried onions.
After lunch, the poodle insisted on a brief squirrel-chasing session through the park before being dragged off to the next errand. Olivia was more than happy to comply. Thus far, the day had progressed with great promise. The mystery of their beach find was solved and the lighthouse keeper’s cottage was almost renovated. All she needed now was some inspirational art, but the furniture store, with its Impressionist prints and unattractive modern art silk screens, had been a disappointment.
Oyster Bay wasn’t quite cosmopolitan enough to support an entire gallery, but several local artists sold their works by displaying them on the brick walls of the local coffee and pastry shop. Olivia opened the front door to Bagels ‘n’ Beans and waved hello to the octogenarian proprietor, who was also one of her tenants. Her favorite one, in fact.
“I’m here to check out your art, Wheeler.” Olivia and Haviland breezed past the “No Dogs” sign and began to scrutinize the grouping of paintings, sketches, and framed black-and-white paper-cut designs.
“I like the paper cuts of the herons, don’t you?” Olivia pointed at the framed art hanging above the eatery’s worn purple sofa. Haviland snorted in assent. “Let’s take the one of the three birds in the roost and the other showing them fishing in the cove. I particularly like how this artist made the tree branches. Spindly-shaped. They don’t seem sinister to you, do they?” she asked her dog.
“More angular than sinister, I’d say,” a man two tables down remarked.
Olivia turned to look at the speaker and recognized him right away. “Hello, Chief Rawlings.” She glanced back at the paper cuts. “I’ve never seen such delicate work.”
The chief of the Oyster Bay Police Department nodded. “My sister Jeannie will be mighty pleased to hear you say that. Nothing sinister about her , that’s for sure. I don’t think she’s had a negative thought since 1965.”
“What happened in 1965?” Olivia couldn’t help but ask.
“I was born.” The policeman laughed and took a sip of his coffee. “And spent the next sixteen years making her life a living hell. Who’d have thought we’d be the best of friends now.”
Olivia took a second look at the lawman. Stocky and wide-shouldered, with dark hair going gray above the ears, Rawlings didn’t come across as the type of man to have a female as his closest confidante. In fact, whenever Olivia saw him in public, he was always accompanied by at least one other equally bulky officer. Rawlings and his officers tended to swagger
“I’m going to check on my dog,” she announced. “I’ll be back in to sign my receipt in a moment.”
She had been right in assuming that the decorator wanted to examine the wad of twenties more closely before agreeing to the deal. Olivia was also confident that four hundred dollars in cash would sway most people into figuring out a way to break the rules, especially since no one would be the worse for the transgression.
After promising Haviland that her errand was almost complete, Olivia walked briskly back into the store, scribbled signatures on several pieces of paper, and then drove off in search of some colorful art.
“Don’t worry. We’re going to eat first, Captain. Should we be naughty today?”
Haviland knew perfectly well that naughty meant unhealthy and offered a jubilant bark. Thirty minutes later, the pair was seated at a patio table, enjoying the shade of the umbrella as they dined on tender cheeseburgers and thin, crunchy curls of fried onions.
After lunch, the poodle insisted on a brief squirrel-chasing session through the park before being dragged off to the next errand. Olivia was more than happy to comply. Thus far, the day had progressed with great promise. The mystery of their beach find was solved and the lighthouse keeper’s cottage was almost renovated. All she needed now was some inspirational art, but the furniture store, with its Impressionist prints and unattractive modern art silk screens, had been a disappointment.
Oyster Bay wasn’t quite cosmopolitan enough to support an entire gallery, but several local artists sold their works by displaying them on the brick walls of the local coffee and pastry shop. Olivia opened the front door to Bagels ‘n’ Beans and waved hello to the octogenarian proprietor, who was also one of her tenants. Her favorite one, in fact.
“I’m here to check out your art, Wheeler.” Olivia and Haviland breezed past the “No Dogs” sign and began to scrutinize the grouping of paintings, sketches, and framed black-and-white paper-cut designs.
“I like the paper cuts of the herons, don’t you?” Olivia pointed at the framed art hanging above the eatery’s worn purple sofa. Haviland snorted in assent. “Let’s take the one of the three birds in the roost and the other showing them fishing in the cove. I particularly like how this artist made the tree branches. Spindly-shaped. They don’t seem sinister to you, do they?” she asked her dog.
“More angular than sinister, I’d say,” a man two tables down remarked.
Olivia turned to look at the speaker and recognized him right away. “Hello, Chief Rawlings.” She glanced back at the paper cuts. “I’ve never seen such delicate work.”
The chief of the Oyster Bay Police Department nodded. “My sister Jeannie will be mighty pleased to hear you say that. Nothing sinister about her , that’s for sure. I don’t think she’s had a negative thought since 1965.”
“What happened in 1965?” Olivia couldn’t help but ask.
“I was born.” The policeman laughed and took a sip of his coffee. “And spent the next sixteen years making her life a living hell. Who’d have thought we’d be the best of friends now.”
Olivia took a second look at the lawman. Stocky and wide-shouldered, with dark hair going gray above the ears, Rawlings didn’t come across as the type of man to have a female as his closest confidante. In fact, whenever Olivia saw him in public, he was always accompanied by at least one other equally bulky officer. Rawlings and his officers tended to swagger
Similar Books
