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

in the juvenile division. They were each allowed a single oar. No working sails or motors were permitted.
    Suddenly, a flesh-colored object obscured her view. Olivia lowered her binoculars to find Sawyer Rawlings standing in front of her. He was in uniform and cut a handsome figure, but Olivia also thought he looked hot and uncomfortable.
    “Do you ever wish you had seasonal uniforms?” she teased. “Navy for winter, white for summer.”
    “Everyone would confuse me for the ice cream man,” he said.
    She arched her brows. “Ice cream men carry handcuffs and handguns?”
    “Hey, we drive through the same neighborhoods. Besides, people would kill for something cold on a day like this.”
    “I can point you to the nearest lemonade stand,” she said as he dabbed his forehead with a handkerchief. Olivia found the fact that he carried a handkerchief most endearing. Rawlings was an intriguing blend of old-fashioned southern gentleman and liberal modern man. His workdays were spent apprehending criminals, reviewing cases, and balancing budgets while his free time was devoted to painting, reading poetry, writing his novel, and hanging out with his sister and her family or with Olivia and Haviland.
    Rawlings was about to speak when something caught his attention. Olivia turned to follow his gaze and saw that a teenage boy was poised at the top of a set of steps, ready to launch himself down. There was a sign reading “Skateboarding Prohibited” two feet from where he waited, the first two wheels of his board hovering in midair. The sidewalk at the bottom of the stairs wasn’t clear of pedestrians, and someone was bound to get hurt if the kid took the plunge. Before Olivia could speak, Rawlings was in motion.
    For a big man, the chief moved fast. He had the youth by the elbow before he could leave the ground. Olivia couldn’t hear what Rawlings said to him, but within seconds the boy was nodding deferentially. He then jogged down the stairs with his board tucked under his arm. Pausing at the bottom, he picked a wadded napkin off the ground, tossed it into the nearest trashcan, and turned to give Rawlings a brief wave.
    Olivia smiled. Only Rawlings could command such respect using gentle tones and a paternal hand on the shoulder.
    “He’s a catch, all right,” Laurel said, stealing up alongside of Olivia.
    Irritated by the heat creeping up her neck and cheeks, Olivia asked, “Where’d your trolls go?”
    “Steve’s parents are taking them for rest of the weekend, and they are going to have their hands full. The boys are completely hopped up on lemonade.” Laurel smiled and gazed out over the water. “The first race is going to start any minute now. Where’s Millay?”
    “I don’t know, but she’d better get a move on.” Olivia lifted her binoculars and scanned the boardwalk. “We’ve never had this many spectators before.”
    Haviland made a sniffing noise and Olivia glanced at him. “Do you want to find her, Captain?”
    The poodle barked once and trotted off through the crowd. Olivia and Laurel sat in their canvas chairs and exchanged theories as to which boat would win the juvenile division.
    “I’m rooting for the French fries,” Laurel said. “You?”
    “The hot dog. How could I pick anything else? The captain is dressed as a ketchup bottle, and the first mate is the mustard.” Olivia shook her head. “Those guys must be boiling inside those costumes.”
    Laurel laughed. “That’s why they’re going to lose. How are they going to row in those getups?”
    In the end, the ballet slipper won. Its long, delicate prow crossed the finish line seconds ahead of a giant banana. The triumphant shrieks of the female crew carried over the water. “Look! They’re wearing tutus and tiaras!” Laurel exclaimed, peering at them through her own binoculars.
    “They should’ve ditched the tutus and worn something unexpected. Camo maybe,” Millay said, settling into the chair next to Olivia as if she’d been