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
“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
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