Dead Men Don't Eat Cookies

by Virginia Lowell

  “I see,” Del said. “Not what I expected. I’m beginning to think this is all a strange and inscrutable hoax.”

  “You may be right,” Olivia said, glancing at the kitchen clock. “I’m meeting Maddie back in the kitchen for a baking session in just over an hour. So I’m going with the hoax theory for now.”

  “You go to bed, Livie,” Del said. “I’ll feel better if I come over and take a look around The Gingerbread House. Even if this is a hoax, I don’t like it. Save the note and give it to me tomorrow. I’ll stop by in the morning to pick it up.”

  “My fingerprints will be all over the note.” Olivia yawned. “I wasn’t thinking of it as evidence.”

  “In the shock of the moment, most people don’t, no matter how many mysteries they’ve devoured. I’ll test it for prints, anyway. You never know. Do you have any idea what happened to the tack?”

  “Nope. Sorry, Del. I was trying to hold Spunky’s leash while I was removing the tack, and it dropped. It’s silly, but all I could think about was that the lovely finish on the front door might be damaged.”

  “I wish I’d been there,” Del said. “If you hear anything outside, it’ll probably be me. You can call my personal cell if you’re worried. I’ll bring a flashlight and look for that tack, too.”

  Olivia yawned again.

  “Forget everything and go to bed,” Del said. “I’m betting this whole setup was somebody’s little joke on us. Sleep like a baby.”

  “I had colic when I was a baby,” Olivia said.

  “Then sleep like a baby who wasn’t you. Let me do the worrying; it’s why they pay me the not-big-enough bucks. Love you,” Del said a moment before his phone went silent.

  “Love you back,” Olivia whispered. She hung up and headed toward bed, fully clothed. Spunky followed close on her heels. She felt exhausted enough to fall asleep instantly and stay out until the cursed alarm rang. Del was probably right that the note and phone call were part of a silly hoax. He had experience with such things. He certainly knew the lengths to which Binnie might go to frighten or embarrass Olivia. But somewhere in the back of her mind, Olivia believed this was no hoax.

  Chapter Thirteen

  When Olivia unlocked the Gingerbread House door at five thirty on Wednesday morning, she expected to be greeted by the sweet, doughy scent of cookies just out of the oven. Instead, she smelled only the faint leftover odor of yesterday’s cookies combined with the fake lemon smell of cleaning solution. When the store wasn’t hopping with customers, Bertha got bored. When Bertha got bored, she cleaned compulsively.

  Olivia switched on the lights, and Spunky sneaked past her into the store. All business, he bustled from corner to corner, sniffing for unwelcome intruders. Olivia left him to his inspection and headed toward the quiet kitchen. Had Maddie overslept? That would be a first. After the shock of finding a note tacked to her front door in the early morning hours, Olivia felt uneasy. She hesitated, her hand around the kitchen doorknob. She could have sworn she’d heard Mr. Coffee spit out the last of his fresh brew into the carafe. Olivia opened the door to a scene she’d thought she would never see—Maddie was sound asleep, her right cheek resting on the kitchen table. She was snoring. Olivia suppressed a giggle. It was a light little snore, but still tease-worthy, especially given Maddie’s frequent reminders that she was two months younger than Olivia.

  A sudden surge of apprehension brought Olivia back to the present. Maddie regularly shorted herself on sleep. What if exhaustion had caught up with her? She might be ill. Olivia shook her friend’s left shoulder. Maddie showed no reaction. When she shook harder, Maddie groaned. Her head popped up and wobbled, as if her neck had forgotten how to function.

  “Hang on.” Olivia half-filled a cup with fresh, strong coffee, stirred in cream and sugar, and placed it on the table. Maddie put the cup to her lips and drained it. She plunked it down on the table, nodded once, and said, “Okay, then.”

  “Maddie? Are you really awake? Your eyes look like they’re going in different directions. Do you need more coffee?”

  “Don’t be silly. I’m awake and fully focused, as always.” Maddie checked the kitchen clock. “I was only resting my eyes for a few minutes. Working on my laptop made me feel a bit drowsy, that’s all. Although I don’t remember what I was looking at on the screen, so more caffeine does sound like a good plan.” Maddie fixed herself another cup before she lifted the lid of her computer. It flashed back to life. “Ah yes, now I remember . . . research that didn’t go anywhere.” She opened her email account. “Nothing yet. Livie, how did you respond to Binnie’s blank email with those awful photos of Lenora? She hasn’t reacted at all, which isn’t like the Binnie we all know too well.”

  Olivia slapped her forehead. “I forgot about Binnie. So much happened after you went home that I never thought about those photos of poor Lenora. I forgot to talk to Del about them, too. We’d better do some quick strategizing and fire off a response to Binnie. I hate to think how she’d take revenge if she believes we’re ignoring her.”

  Maddie’s pale eyebrows shot up. “You saw Del after I left?”

  “He called right as I walked into my apartment.” Olivia fixed herself a cup of rich Italian roast. It smelled heavenly. “He was worried about my safety.” She relayed Del’s story about the late night call reporting a prowler on the Gingerbread House porch around midnight.

  “Wasn’t that about the same time Spunky made such a fuss in the store?” Maddie asked.

  Olivia nodded. “And someone did come up to our front door. Look at this.” She drew the folded sheet of paper from her pants pocket and handed it to Maddie.

  Maddie’s eyes sparkled as she unfolded the paper and spread it on the worktable. “Oh, this is so cool . . . though in a barely believable sort of way. I feel like I’m in a Nancy Drew novel. “Follow the cookie cutter,” she read out loud. “Which cookie cutter, I wonder. Does this refer to the pierced heart pendant Kenny Vayle wore, or is there a cutter we haven’t even heard about yet? Because the pendant was found with the bones, so how can it lead anywhere else?”

  “I can think of a number of ways.” Olivia settled in front of Maddie’s computer. “But first, let’s deal with Binnie and her revolting photos of poor Lenora. If Binnie thinks she is being ignored, I’m afraid she will splash those photos all over the Internet.”

  Maddie dragged a chair sideways and sat down next to Olivia. “As it happens,” Maddie said, “I spent some time last night thinking about how we should handle Binnie . . . aside from putting a stamp on her forehead and sending her to the jungle.”

  “Oh, so tempting.” Olivia clicked on Binnie’s email to open it. “I can’t understand why she left the body of the email blank. Maybe she just wanted to see how we would react to those pictures?”

  “That’s way too subtle for Binnie,” Maddie said. “She knows Del isn’t her biggest fan, so I figure she didn’t want to put anything in writing that might get her arrested for blackmail.”

  “That sounds right.” Olivia scrolled quickly through the offensive shots of poor Lenora, drunk on leftover sherry. “The photos alone might be sufficient evidence to indicate attempted blackmail.” Olivia rubbed her eyes, wishing she had managed to oversleep for another hour.

  “What if we accuse Binnie of blackmail and threaten to expose her? Maybe she’ll back off.”

  “I’m thinking of a simpler and more direct approach that might stop her cold,” Olivia said. “I think we should forward her email to Del, as is. Let it speak for itself. I’ll add a short note explaining what really happened in the cookbook nook, and he can draw his own conclusions about Binnie’s intentions. He’ll know what to do. Between you and me, Del gets a kick out of quashing Binnie. She is forever interfering with his investigations. She knows Del can toss her in jail if she goes over the line. He has done it before, so he might succeed in scaring her off. The sooner we stop that woman, the bett
er I’ll feel.”

  “Amen to that.” Maddie hopped up and wriggled her shoulders. “That little nap did wonders for me. I’m ready to bake. Although not lemon cutouts, I think. I need something fresh and exciting to tingle my senses.”

  “Is there any cookie you haven’t tackled before?” Olivia addressed a new email to Del and immediately attached Binnie’s email, so she wouldn’t forget. After adding a brief note, she clicked the send command. There was no time to waste. Binnie might even now be preparing one of her infamous posts for that detestable blog of hers. As if her weekly newspaper, The Weekly Chatter, weren’t torture enough, now she blogged daily about the failings and foibles of Chatterley Heights citizens. Though no one escaped Binnie’s attention, Olivia, Maddie, and poor little Spunky were among her favorite targets.

  “There are undoubtedly hundreds of cookie recipes I haven’t tried,” Maddie said. “I find that knowledge comforting, since I can’t die until I’ve perfected all of them. However, for now I’ll limit myself to a flavor other than lemon. It’s possible to overdo a good thing.” She opened a cupboard and selected two bottles of flavoring. “I think I’ll try combining plum flavoring with almond.” When Olivia didn’t respond, Maddie added, “And possibly a soup spoon of vanilla . . .”

  “Soupçon,” Olivia corrected. “It means ‘a pinch’ in French.” When Maddie chuckled, Olivia looked up from the email she had sent to Del and shot a suspicious glance at her friend. “You knew that, didn’t you?”

  Maddie clapped her hands like a delighted child. “I heard a French chef on the Cooking Channel use that word,” she said. “I’ve been waiting for the right opportunity to mangle it.”

  “Well, you did a superb job.” Olivia smiled sweetly at her friend.

  “I’ll accept that as a compliment, even though I think I’ve been insulted.” Maddie measured sugar for a batch of cutout cookies. “To get even, I’m assigning the computer research to you. I shall roll and cut cookies while you do the tapping and squinting.” She added butter to the bowl and lowered the flat beater. “Time-out.” The beater spiraled around the mixing bowl until Maddie stopped it, and said, “I don’t know about you, Livie, but I lost sleep over the thought of Alicia getting involved in a possible murder investigation. I know I was all excited about digging up a cold case, but now I’m feeling squeamish. What if those bones really are Kenny Vayle’s and it turns out he was murdered? Alicia is so determined to find out what happened to her dad. I can understand, but . . .” Maddie raised a low cloud as she dumped a measuring cup of flour into the mixing bowl.

  “I’m worried about Alicia, too,” Olivia said. “The crime lab doesn’t seem able to give the case priority. I’m very afraid that Alicia will try to investigate on her own. So far, no one other than Kurt has bothered her, but if someone decides she is a threat . . .”

  “Exactly what I’ve been thinking,” Maddie said. “We need a list of suspects and questions.”

  “As it happens, I started one early this morning, right after you left.” Olivia produced her questions about the people she knew to be connected to Kenny Vayle. “It’s a start, anyway.”

  Maddie checked the clock over the kitchen sink. “We still have about two hours before the store opens. I’m dressed for work under this apron, so I can open at nine. Clearly, you will need a shower and change of clothes.” She cast a critical eye at Olivia’s attire—old sweats and lace-free running shoes. “I’ll finish this batch of dough and stick it in the fridge. I’ve got a disk of chilled dough I can roll out and cut while you are doing my bidding on the computer.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Olivia said. “While you are finishing up, I’ll see what I can find out about Crystal’s mysterious marital history.” She first did a search for information about Crystal Quinn. Olivia couldn’t gain access to Facebook accounts—only Maddie possessed such advanced skills, though even she admitted Facebook was tougher to hack. However, Crystal had a fairly extensive presence on the Internet, including her own website. She seemed far more trusting in cyberspace than she was in person. On her own website, Crystal provided numerous links to what Maddie referred to as “venting sites.” She vented mostly about men, although her daughter received her share of online criticism. Poor kid.

  After fifteen minutes, Olivia had read more than enough about Crystal’s ongoing problems with a series of men she’d been involved with before Robbie Quinn. Crystal discussed the men using first names only. She referred to several of them as husbands, though she never mentioned weddings. While Olivia wasn’t as skilled as Maddie at computer searches, she did have a friend, Lori, who had been working in the courthouse records department for years. Lori owed her a favor. Luckily, she was also a devoted gossip and an early riser. Olivia shot Lori an email asking if there might be a way to find out how many times Crystal Quinn had legally married and, if possible, the names of her castoffs. Crystal had been born in Chatterley Heights, so there was a good chance her marriages, if they were real, had taken place in town.

  Olivia glanced at the time in the upper corner of Maddie’s computer. Forty-five minutes had flown by. She lifted her fingers from the keyboard and reached toward the ceiling, which triggered more distinct cracking sounds in her shoulder area. Maybe she should start exercising more, perhaps take up jogging with her mother . . . Nah.

  “I see you have returned from your Internet adventure,” Maddie said. “Addictive, isn’t it?”

  “Yet possibly helpful.” Olivia twisted around in her seat as Maddie removed her earbuds. Flour had somehow attached itself to her hair, chin, and one shoulder. On the table, several sheets of cutout shapes awaited baking. “Weren’t you just starting to mix dough when I saw you last?”

  “That was some time ago.” Maddie dipped a cookie cutter in flour. “Since then I have finished mixing that batch and put it in the fridge to chill. Then I rolled out a chilled batch of dough, cut several dozen cookies, and cured cancer. Did you unearth anything interesting?”

  Olivia relayed her information about Crystal. “I jotted down the names of the men she referred to as husbands and sent the list to my friend, Lori, at the courthouse. “According to my research, Crystal had at least six husbands. From the dates on her posts, a couple of them overlapped. Apparently, marriage laws have been in flux since my divorce.”

  “It only seems that way because you actually went through a divorce.” Maddie managed to deposit a dusting of flour on her forearm as she replenished the supply she used for dipping her cutters. With a happy sigh, she said, “I love to play with flour.”

  “I can see that.” Olivia stood up and freshened her coffee. “What if I do the cutting for a while, and you traverse the Internet. I might be missing important information because I’m not as skilled as you are.”

  “True,” Maddie said. “Let me wash my hands and dust myself off. Meanwhile, tell me what else you found, and I’ll take it from there.”

  “Crystal complains a lot about men.” Olivia joined Maddie at the sink to wash her hands, too. “Unfortunately, she’s on Facebook and a few other sites I can’t figure out how to access.”

  “I can give it a try, while you take over the cookie cutting,” Maddie said. “It’s odd . . . In person, Crystal seems like the suspicious type, but apparently she doesn’t dwell on Internet security issues. Not if she is pouring her heart out on the less secure sites.” Maddie settled at her computer and wiggled her fingers. “Time for some fun. Let’s see what we can dig up about Crystal Quinn’s marriage addiction.”

  While Maddie’s hands flew across the computer keyboard as if she were playing a piano, Olivia wished she could sit down at her desk with paper and pen. So many questions swirled around in her head. She needed a way to trigger ideas and organize them in her mind while she cut out cookie shapes. At once, she thought about cookie cutters. Handling those intriguing little shapes always helped her think.

  Olivia slipped out of the kitchen to the di
mly lit sales floor. Spunky’s fluffy head popped up. “Stay on your chair and rest, Spunks,” Olivia said. “It isn’t time to get up yet.” Spunky resumed his nap without objection. Olivia unlocked the long, narrow storage room that shared a wall with the kitchen. She switched on the light and stepped inside. Shelves along one wall held the store’s expansive collection of cookie cutters, all organized in labeled plastic boxes. As the more organized of the two business partners, Olivia had assumed responsibility for labeling each box with a category name and a list of contents, which she faithfully updated when necessary.

  It took only a few minutes for Olivia to choose the three boxes she thought most likely to be helpful. She piled the boxes on top of each other with their category names arranged in alphabetical order: careers, housewares, and schoolwork. Maddie would laugh at that, if she noticed it, but Olivia found order and precision comforting when too many questions roiled in her mind.

  Spunky barely lifted his sleepy head as Olivia, holding all three boxes, emerged from the storage closet and slipped back into the kitchen. Maddie was too absorbed in her computer work to notice when Olivia deposited her burden on the worktable. She opened the boxes and placed them side by side near the rolled dough, so she could read the contents list for each box as she worked.

  Olivia began to select the cutters she wanted to use. A hammer shape reminded her of Robbie Quinn, in more ways than one. Robbie was a builder, but he also had a way of hammering those around him. As she cut three hammer shapes from the rolled dough, Olivia considered Robbie as a suspect. He certainly had the strength to kill a man, especially a smaller and perhaps inebriated one. What would have been Robbie’s motive? If he’d been friends with Kenny, as he claimed, he would have known Crystal. Had he wanted her for himself? Perhaps he’d written the note that lured Kenny to his death. Robbie would have been aware that Kenny was always looking for that perfect dream job. On the other hand, it was quite a leap from wanting Crystal to murdering the husband she might have been more than willing to leave.