Read Poisoned Prose (A Books by the Bay Mystery) for Free Online

waitin’ on me, Captain, so I’ll put your order in and then come back with my big news.”
    Olivia shook her head. “You’re such a tease.”
    “Why do you think Grumpy and I are still married after all this time?” Dixie grinned saucily. “You wanna order or just let the chef fix you somethin’ special?”
    “I’ll leave my meal in Grumpy’s capable hands,” Olivia said. “And I’d try to worm more info from you, since you’re obviously bursting to tell me something juicy, but the woman at the
Cats
booth has her placemat raised in the air like it’s a white flag.”
    Dixie scowled. “She’d better be surrenderin’. That harpy has run me ragged. She took one sip of water and then asked me for a refill. Demanded crisp bacon and then told me it was too crunchy to eat. Ordered white toast and then wanted to know why I didn’t serve her wheat. Bet she’ll leave me a crap tip too.” She stood and gave her tank top an irritated tug. “She’s lucky I’m not the type of waitress who spits in people’s food.”
    She skated off, leaving Olivia to read the
Gazette
. Haviland looked out the window and seemed perfectly content to watch the passersby.
    The paper was filled with short articles about the day’s boat race and included numerous photographs of previous winners and their vessels. The regatta had increased in size each year, and because local merchants contributed to the cash prizes, the competition had grown fiercer than ever. So many entrants had tried to circumvent the construction rules that each craft had to be vetted by a special committee within twenty-four hours of the race.
    This event was almost as well attended as the actual race and hundreds of bets were placed the moment the boats were unveiled. Of course, the authorities couldn’t openly condone gambling, but Chief Rawlings and the rest of the force had chosen to pretend that they didn’t know about the money exchanging hands on the docks, in the bars, and in the back room of the hardware store.
    “Which horse are you gonna back?” Dixie said as she returned with Haviland’s food and a frittata for Olivia. “Harris’s? That boy sure knows how to build a boat. Oh, Grumpy wanted me to tell you that you’ve got cherry tomatoes, goat cheese, fresh basil, and corn mixed in with your eggs. Enjoy.” She put Haviland’s plate on the floor. After he jumped down to eat, she took his seat, folded her hands, and wriggled a little with excitement. “My cousin’s here for the storyteller’s retreat. I haven’t seen him for ages. Probably because he’s been in and out of jail since we were kids.”
    Because her mouth was full, Olivia registered her surprise by lifting her brows.
    “What? Doesn’t everyone have a few thugs hangin’ on the family tree?” Dixie chuckled. “Lowell’s pretty harmless as criminals go. He’s just never been fond of payin’ for things. He’d see somethin’ he wanted, and if he couldn’t afford it, he’d steal it. Most of the time he avoided gettin’ caught, but the older he got, the more darin’ he grew.”
    “So how is he involved in the retreat? Is he going to move through the audience picking pockets?”
    Most people would have been offended by the question, but Dixie let out a roar of laughter. “Don’t give him any notions, you hear?” She flipped the
Gazette
to the back page, pointing to the list of performer biographies. “See? Here he is. Lowell Reid. He’s Miss Violetta’s assistant. Takes care of her bookings, costumes, and props.”
    “That’s a far cry from larceny,” Olivia said. “You must be proud of him for straightening out.”
    “I am, but I’m a bit confused too. Last time I heard from his mama she told me that Lowell had been arrested. He was locked up somewhere in the western part of the state, and after he finally got out, this Violetta lady hired him. Lowell’s mama said she was gonna be real famous soon because some college professor was writin’ a book about