by Ellery Adams
“I don’t care who you’re talking to,” Holt said. “Did you, or did you not, leave this box by my car?”
“No, I did not,” she said. “What’s in it?”
Holt took the lid off, and Molly saw bubble wrap inside. Balancing the box on one of his muscular arms, he pushed the wrapping aside.
Molly’s eyes widened. She said into the phone, “Someone left Holt the missing pig cookie jar, and a hammer.” Using a piece of bubble wrap, she lifted the lid off the cookie jar. “There’s a yellow pawn inside the jar.”
Lombardi said, “Place the box on the ground and step away from it.”
Holt frowned. “Why? It’s a cookie jar and a hammer.”
“These items could be evidence in two murder inquiries,” Lombardi said. “Holt, have you put the box down?”
“Hold on.” Holt set the box down on the ground. “What do you mean, two murder inquiries?”
“Jasper Stuart has been murdered,” Lombardi said.
Holt looked surprised. “Jasper’s dead? Does Helen know?”
“She will soon enough,” Lombardi said.
“So why did someone leave me a cookie jar and a hammer?”
Molly said, “Remember I showed you a photo of a cookie jar?” Holt nodded. “That jar was found at Brett’s house, and now another jar has been found with Jasper’s body. Both of those jars, and this one, were stolen from Laurel Wreath a few weeks ago.”
Holt scratched his head. Molly knew she’d confused him. “But why did I get one?” he repeated.
It was a good question, she thought. Holt wasn’t dead like Brett and Jasper. He was alive and well. Why did the killer leave him a cookie jar and pawn . . . and why a hammer? “I’m not sure,” she had to say.
Lombardi said, “I need you both to stay put. I’m on my way.”
Chapter 20
As soon as Molly ended the call, Holt said, “Those other cookie jars, did they come with hammers, too?”
“No, they didn’t,” Molly said. “This is something new.”
“Yeah, well, I know what this is,” Holt said. “Somebody’s poking fun at me for being a chauffeur. They’re looking down their nose at me because I’m a working man.” He took his cell phone out of his pocket and started to walk away.
“Hey, where are you going? Lombardi told us to stay put.”
“I’ve got a call to make,” he said.
“You can’t leave,” she said.
“I’m not leaving,” he said. “I’ll be in the car.”
Molly blew out her breath in frustration. She would have to stand there alone in the hot sun, guarding the box, until Lombardi arrived. But before he even got there, a uniformed patrol officer showed up, which meant she could sit in her car to wait in the air-conditioning. Thank you, Lombardi. She could see Holt in the driver’s seat of the Navigator, talking on his phone, gesturing with his free hand. When Lombardi’s sedan rolled up next to Molly’s car, she waved at Holt to join them.
Lombardi had his own box of latex gloves in his trunk, and he put a pair on before he opened the box. He also had two evidence bags. The little pig cookie jar went into one, the hammer into another.
Holt asked, “What are you going to do with this stuff?”
Lombardi sealed the bags. “They’ll be examined for anything that might help us identify who left them,” he said. “How long were you in the gym?”
“About two hours,” Holt said.
“Did you notice anyone hanging around the parking lot, or watching you inside the gym?”
“No.”
Lombardi handed the evidence bags over to the uniformed officer. “Get this over to Riley Summers in forensics right away,” he said. “I’ve already called her to let her know it’s coming.”
“Yes, sir,” the cop said.
“I want some answers,” Holt said. “Is my life in danger?”
“All I can tell you is someone has killed two people,” Lombardi said. “At both crime scenes, we’ve found cookie jars with pawn pieces. I don’t know why you’ve been targeted. The hammer is odd, as well. Do you have any ideas who might be doing this?”
“How should I know?” Holt’s eyes flitted around the parking lot. “I’m worried some maniac has me in his sites. What should I do?”
“I wouldn’t worry too much,” Lombardi said. “I think this is some kind of message, because if they’d meant to kill you, you’d be dead by now.”
“What message?”
“Beats me,” Lombardi said.
“Oh, that’s great,” Holt said. “A cop with an attitude. Why am I not surprised? You’re making me feel a whole lot better.”
Lombardi took his notebook and pen out of his pocket. “I have some questions,” he said.
“I’m not saying nothing,” Holt said. “I called Whitney to tell her what’s going on, and she told me to come home.”
“I thought you wanted me to find out who left the box?”
“I told you I didn’t see anyone watching me.”
“Where were you Tuesday morning between the hours of four and six?”
Holt glared. “I was sound asleep,” he said.
“Alone?”
“Yes, alone. I got up at six, like I always do, and got to the gym about an hour later. Check with the desk, if you don’t believe me. They scan my card when I come in. And that’s all I’ve got to say.” He turned on his heel and walked away.
Lombardi turned to Molly. “Are you sure you didn’t see the box by his car when you got here? Or when you left the gym?”
“No, like I said, it was on the ground by the driver’s-side door, out of view.”
“But it could have been there when you arrived.”
“Yes, of course.”
“Okay. You can go,” he said. “I’ll check the shops for any surveillance footage.”
“What about all the interviews I’ve conducted?”
“I want to know everything you’ve found out that you haven’t already told me, but I can’t do it right now. Will you be home later?”
“Can you come over for dinner tonight?”
“I should be able to, barring any unforeseen incidents, like another murder.”
“Good. I’ll invite Mom and Sean over, too, and Starling will be there,” she said. “Matt gets home at six, so come around six thirty.”
“I’ll bring a bottle of wine,” he said.
Chapter 21
Molly stopped at the grocery store before heading home. While she was in the store, she kept thinking about how odd it was that Holt had found a cookie jar, and a hammer, by his car. Why did the killer target him but not kill him? She tried to remember exactly what he’d done when he came out of the gym. She could have been mistaken about the box being on the ground the whole time. He could have taken the box out of the car and pretended he’d found it. And of all the people she’d talked to, he really was the only one who had the strength to kill Brett in the manner in which he’d died. But if it was Holt, what was the meaning of the cookie jars? Molly was convinced they meant something.
She pulled into her driveway and slammed on the brakes. There was a box sitting on her front steps. She was sure she hadn’t ordered anything, although it was possible Starling had. More likely, she feared she’d just become the recipient of another gift from the killer.
Opening the garage door, she pulled her car inside, and leaving the groceries in the trunk, took her phone with her as she walked up the path to the front door. The box was the exact same shape, color, and size as the one Holt had found next to his vehicle. She called Lombardi.
“It’s a bust on surveillance,” he said. “None of the shops in the strip mall have footage that goes beyond two hundred feet of the sidewalk. Whoever left that box for Holt must have known he parked out of range.”
“Too bad,” she said. “And now you’ve got another problem. I just got home and found a similar box on my front step.”
“Did you open it?”
“No.”
“Good, leave it where it is. I’ll be there in about fifteen minutes.”
Molly went back to the garage, and the door into the house opened. Starling came down the steps and said, “I thought I heard the garage door. Do you need help with the groceries?”
“Where’s Tyler?”
“In his room, napping.”
“Wait for me at the end of the driveway.”
“What?”
“Just do it,” Molly said. “I’ll be right there.”
Molly went inside and ran up the stairs to Tyler’s room. She woke him from a deep sleep, scooping him out of the crib with his blanket, and he started to cry. Holding him close, she went down the stairs and met Starling at the end of the driveway.
“What’s going on, Aunt Molly?”
Molly took her by the arm and steered her down the sidewalk to the end of the street. In the distance, she could hear a siren.
“Someone left a box on the front step, and Lombardi’s on his way,” Molly said. Tyler was screaming now, and she had to talk loudly to be heard over him. “I’m sure it’s not anything dangerous, but out of an abundance of caution, I’d rather we wait here for him. Did you see who left it?”
“No, I didn’t see anyone,” Starling said.
Molly was bouncing Tyler in her arms, trying to calm him down. “It definitely wasn’t there when I got back from Olga’s.” She glanced at her watch. It was a little after noon, which meant someone had put the box on the porch in the last three hours.
The siren got louder as Lombardi’s car turned down the street. Tyler was kicking his legs, unhappy about the noise. As Lombardi pulled up to the curb, Molly made a slicing motion across her throat and he cut the siren. As soon as he powered down his window, she said, “Was that really necessary?”
“I wanted to get here fast,” he said. “I’ll check out the box.”
He drove up the street and pulled into the driveway. They watched him go up the front walkway to the steps and lean over the box. Starling grabbed Molly’s arm. “Are you sure it isn’t dangerous?”
“It’s not a bomb, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Molly said with confidence. “I think we’re going to find a cookie jar and another pawn piece.” She told Starling about the box Holt had found by his car. “I think someone is daring us to catch them.” Tyler had finally quieted down, and Molly kissed the top of his head. “I’m sorry I woke you up, baby. Everything’s going to be all right, hush now.”
Lombardi waved at them to come over, but Starling said, “Give Tyler to me. I’ll bring the groceries inside, and we’ll wait for you on the back patio.”
Molly handed Tyler off to Starling and joined Lombardi. He’d donned gloves again, and she saw he’d removed the bubble wrap from two objects. One was a little lamb cookie jar, the other a flashlight with a red top and a Roy Rogers and Trigger picture on the handle. “There’s a blue pawn in your jar,” he said. “It appears we have another stolen cookie jar. Four down, two to go. What do you make of the flashlight?”
“Holt thinks someone is making fun of his career choice by leaving him a hammer,” she said. “Maybe I got a flashlight because I haven’t seen the light, and they’re mocking me because I haven’t figured out what this all means.”
He turned the flashlight around. “A Roy Rogers and Trigger flashlight. I’ve never seen anything like this.”
“It’s vintage 1950s, made by USALite flashlight,” she said. “It’s rare to find one in such good condition. I’ll show it to Sean later. He’s part of a vast network of antique shop owners. He can ask around to see if anyone sold one like this recently.”
“You can’t keep these,” he said. “I have to hand them over to forensics.”
“Okay, I’ll take photographs.” Molly had tucked her phone in her pocket. She snapped photos of the cookie jar and the flashlight, but when she was done, she stood still.
Lombardi looked at her. “I can see the wheels in your brain turning,” he said. “What are you thinking?”
“You know, all along I’ve thought the cookie jars have to mean something,” she said. “With the pawns being in them, I think it has to be some kind of game the killer is playing. So what do we have so far? We have Brett hanged with a rope, and Jasper stabbed with a knife. Holt got a hammer, I got a flashlight.” She looked at him. “I could be wrong, but I think the game could be Murder Mystery.”
“I’ve heard of it but never played,” he said.
“How is it possible you’ve never played Murder Mystery? You’re a homicide detective.”
“I wasn’t a homicide detective when I was a kid,” he said. “If I played a board game with my brothers, it was usually Battleship.”
“Well, do you know anything about the game?”
“I know you solve a murder, but that’s about it,” he said. “You’ll have to explain it to me.”
“You solve a murder that occurs in a small town called Chipwell Harding,” she said. “The board has pictures of shops, a restaurant, hotel, library, and the town square. You roll the dice and move your pawn around the board hoping to land on a space that gives you a clue to the murder victim, suspect, weapon, or where the crime occurred. Other squares will have you draw a card from the stack on the table, and these cards contain hidden clues only you will know about. Basically, it’s a process of elimination game. Collect enough evidence, get your pawn to the crime scene, and declare you’ve solved it. But you better be right, because if you’re wrong, you get sent back to square one.”
“Okay. But what does any of this have to do with my investigation?”
“There are similarities,” she said. “Brett was killed in his kitchen, and Jasper was killed in the woods. In the game, the restaurant has a kitchen, and the town is surrounded by woods.”
“Are there cookie jars in Murder Mystery?”
“No, nothing like that,” she said.
“So your theory is wrong.”
“Not necessarily,” she said. “Maybe the cookie jars are meant to mislead us, or maybe they’re just being used as a conveyance for the pawns. The ones in the game are all different colors, and each color designates a player. For instance, Brett’s pawn was purple, which would be for Mr. Mulberry, a schoolteacher.”
“Brett wasn’t a teacher, Molly. He owned an antique shop.”
“Yes, but he had extensive knowledge of antiques and was known for his expertise.”
“What about Jasper’s green pawn? Does green symbolize an ex-con?”
“Actually, Mr. Celadon is a businessman.”
“Helen told us Jasper was a short-order cook. That’s a long way from being a businessman.”
“Okay, so it’s not a perfect match. There’s a yellow piece for General Canary, which could be Holt. Holt fits the stereotype of a big, brawny military man.”
“I can see that,” he said. “What about your blue pawn?”
“Blue is for Mrs. Periwinkle, a bird watcher. She’s very prim and proper.”
“Really?” He looked skeptical. “Prim and proper seems more like a description of your mother than of you.”
“Hey!”
“I only meant you’re not as reserved as your mother,” he said, quickly backpedaling.
“Good recovery,” she said.
“Whew.” He pretended to wipe sweat from his brow.
“There are other pawns in the game,” she said. “There’s red for Miss Cardinal, who’s a sexy femme fatale, and white is for Mrs. Snow, a hotel maid.”
“Iris is a housekeeper,” he said.
“And Whitney could easily be Miss Cardinal,” she said. “I wonder if they’ll be the recipients of the last two cookie jars.”
“I’ll grant you, some of what you’re saying fits, but it doesn’t explain why the killer would use the game in the first place.”
“There doesn’t have to be a rational reason if we’re dealing with a psychopath,” she said. “They could be doing this simply because they enjoy the thrill of the game.”
“I’m making chicken tacos with avocado salsa,” she said. “Maybe you should bring beer instead.”
“Beer it is,” he said.
Chapter 22
Molly had planned to work on her article the rest of the afternoon, but she was feeling anxious after finding the box at her door and wanted to talk things over with her mother. When she finished telling her about everything that had happened, including the box on her doorstep, Clara said, “Honestly, Molly. I do wish you’d drop the case now.”
“Why would I do that after I’ve come this far?”
“It’s become a full-blown police matter,” Clara said. “Let Lombardi handle it.”
“I’m the one who got the ball rolling,” Molly said. “And you have to admit, this is the most challenging case I’ve ever worked on. I can’t stop now. Besides, Lombardi needs my help.”
“Did he ask you for your help?”
“He’s taking my game theory seriously, and he wants me to give him an update tonight so he’ll be prepared when he starts conducting his own interviews.”
“Don’t you have an article to write?”
“I’ll get to it,” Molly said. “I was actually thinking I might go to the Lakeside Brewery this afternoon to check it out. They have a game room, and Iris likes to play there. I want to see if they have Murder Mystery. I saw the game at her house, but I couldn’t get a look inside the box.”
“You think she might have taken pawns from a game at the Lakeside Brewery?”
“Anything’s possible,” Molly said. “Do you want to go with me? We could have lunch.”
“When?”
“How about now?”
“Oh, all right,” Clara said. “Pick me up at the Treasure Trove in twenty minutes.”
Molly smiled. Her mother loved to protest when she got involved in cases, but she always seemed to find the time to help her out.
