A Killer Plot (A Books by the Bay Mystery)

ashtrays, and overturned bongs.
    “You can eat here at the counter for once. It would do you good to rub elbows with your neighbors. Livin’ out there on the Point, all alone with your ghosts, with only a dog to keep you company.” She quickly stroked Haviland between the ears. “No offense to you, sweet darlin’.” Dixie cocked a hip and rested her elbow on it, holding the steaming coffee carafe aloft. “It ain’t good for you to be all work and no play. Why don’t you take your highfalutin ass over to the Song and Dance booth and join that writer’s club? They call themselves the Bayside Book Writers, and since you’re tryin’ to write, it seems to me like you all were destined to meet”
    Olivia grunted. “What do you mean by trying?” Still, she cast a quick glance at the document on her laptop screen and sighed. “I never realized it would be so hard to write a book. Do you know how many times I’ve started this novel? I’ve never consistently failed in achieving a personal goal before.”
    Before Dixie could reply, an elderly couple entered the diner and immediately looked befuddled. Dixie skated over, handed them menus, and pointed at the empty Evita booth. She then disappeared into the kitchen for several minutes, which Olivia suspected were spent smoking Parliaments out the fire door. When Dixie reemerged, she was carrying Olivia’s breakfast on a decoupage tray. Pivoting onto the toes of her skates, she pushed the heavy china platter onto the counter.
    “One spinach and feta omelet with half a grapefruit.” She slid another plate in front of Haviland. “And scrambled eggs and sausage for you, my pet.”
    The poodle held out his paw. Dixie accepted it and then leaned against the empty stool next to Olivia. “So the book’s not exactly writin’ itself then?”
    Olivia pushed her laptop aside in order to eat her breakfast. “I’ve reworked the first five chapters a dozen times. For some reason, I can’t seem to move on to chapter six.”
    Dixie pretended not to notice a customer signaling for the check. “What’s goin’ on at the end of chapter five?”
    “Kamila, my main character, has just been selected to join the harem of Ramses the Second. It’s a huge honor, but she’s determined to become his wife, not just a woman he couples with a few times a year. Once she separates from her family, however, and is inside the palace, she’s terrified and insecure, despite her exceptional beauty. After all, she’s only fourteen.”
    Dixie whistled. “That ain’t too early to be a conniving slut. You walked into a high school lately?” Turning to nod at her impatient Phantom customer, Dixie said, “It seems to me that you’d describe the palace at this point in your story. How did folks treat this girl? Where is she sleepin’? Did she get a bunch of fancy clothes and jewelry when she moved in? Does everybody hate her ’cause she’s the new girl? Are the other girls from foreign places? What does she eat? Folks love to read about food, ya know.”
    Olivia cut off a corner of her omelet. “I wish you’d read what I’ve written so far. I think you’ve got an editorial ear.”
    “No chance in hell, ‘Livia. You’re one of the few people I call friend. I am not gonna mess with what we’ve got by pullin’ apart your novel.” Dixie turned away. “If you want to get someone’s opinion, get off your rump and go talk to that writer’s group. I’m tellin’ you, they are what you need.”
    Haviland opened his eyes wide and made a sneezing noise—a signal to Olivia that his canine ears had picked up a solid recommendation.
    “I don’t know, Captain.” Olivia concentrated on her omelet, trying to imagine reading page after page of grammatically incorrect, verbose claptrap, or florid romances such as the woman Laurel was penning. “I wonder what the rest of them are writing?” she asked her dining companion and stole a glance at the writer’s group.
    In addition to Laurel, there was a stunning young woman with glossy black hair tarnished by stripes of electric purple. She had large, sable-brown eyes and tea-hued skin, which she had pierced in multiple locations as though she’d deliberately set out to mar her exotic beauty. She wore a tight tank top embroidered with a pirate’s flag, and her exposed arms were muscular and sinewy. Olivia had no difficulty picturing the girl creeping out at night in the form of a sleek black panther.
    Sitting across from her was a young