Murder of a Smart Cookie

by Denise Swanson

  Cookie had been miserable living in Scumble River, and Faith had played on Cookie’s desire to please her, to keep Cookie tucked away in the small town and out of the way. It was clear from what she wrote that Faith was afraid that after the very public death of Cookie’s husband, word of her relationship with Cookie would get out and her TV career would be ruined.

  Skye wondered if that would have happened. After all, Ellen DeGeneres’s and Rosie O’Donnell’s sexual preferences hadn’t hurt their careers. Still, they were Hollywood personalities, and maybe that was the difference. Faith’s audience was more Midwest middle class, people not generally known for their liberal points of view.

  Skye met Wally at the door when he returned and immediately exclaimed, “Look what I found at Cookie’s.” She thrust the letters at him. “They were hidden in a pillow safe that the deputies must have missed when they searched her apartment.” Skye avidly watched him examine the stack of letters. “Cookie and Faith were lovers! Faith was desperate to keep that relationship quiet. I’ll bet Cookie was going to reveal their affair and that’s why Faith killed her.”

  Wally nodded and continued to read.

  As soon as he finished, Skye blurted out the plan she had come up with while he’d been gone, ending with, “Then I tell her I have the letters, and as soon as she admits to killing Cookie, you pop out from where you’re hiding.”

  After a lengthy discussion, with Wally trying to talk Skye out of her scheme, he finally agreed to run the idea past the city attorney.

  When Wally came back from making the call, Skye asked excitedly, “What’s the verdict?”

  “He said to make sure you get the key back from Faith before she admits anything. That way the cottage is yours again, and she doesn’t have the expectation of privacy. He also said it would be best to have you wired.” Wally’s good mood had dissolved, and he looked worried.

  “Do you have the equipment to do that?”

  “No. I’ll have to borrow it from the sheriff’s department. Just cross your fingers that Buck is already gone for the weekend or he’ll want to run things, and we don’t need that bozo involved.”

  “True,” Skye agreed. “I was thinking we should do it tomorrow. The yard sale ends at noon. I’m supposed to get my key back from Faith at three. We just need to make sure her staff has left before I go over. She needs to be alone when I talk to her. Any idea how to do that?”

  “The truth is always good. Call her tomorrow morning and tell her you want to speak to her alone when you come for the key.”

  “Brilliant.” Skye smiled at Wally. “What time should I be here to get wired for sound?”

  “Better come at one. We want to have plenty of time to do this right.” Wally walked her to the door, but before he opened it, he said, “The only reason I’m going along with your idea is because I know if I don’t, you’ll go ahead and do it without me. At least this way I can protect you.”

  “You’re right.”

  “If this were a bigger city or a larger police department, you know I wouldn’t be able to do something like this.”

  Skye nodded.

  “Or something like this.”

  Skye felt her knees weaken as his mouth descended on hers. One part of her mind admonished her that they had to stop all this kissing, but another part asked Why?

  “Here are the keys to the French doors in back. The silver one opens the lock on the knob, the gold one is for the dead bolt.” Skye passed the ring to Wally, who sat in the passenger seat of her Bel Air.

  She had steadfastly refused to discuss yesterday’s kiss or her reaction to it. When she had finally broken it off and fled through the reception area, she had decided that the first priority was to capture Faith. After Faith was arrested, Skye planned to sit down and carefully examine her feelings for both Wally and Simon. And as soon as Simon returned from his trip, she would talk to him about whatever she decided. Only then would she be ready to discuss the matter with Wally.

  “Okay. As soon as I hear Faith answer the front door, I’ll slip inside and hide in the bedroom,” Wally said, confirming the plan. “Make sure you stay in the great room so I can hear what’s going on, and don’t get close enough to Faith that she can grab you.”

  “How far does the microphone I’m wearing pick up?”

  “You’re fine as long as you’re in the same room,” Wally said. “Quirk, a deputy, and one of the techs from the county are parked over at your nearest neighbor’s, monitoring what’s going on.”

  “Okay, I’m almost there, so you’d better get out.” Skye watched as Wally left the car. “Did you remember the treats for Faith’s dog?”

  He nodded before heading toward the cottage. Skye gave him ten minutes, then drove on. As she pulled into the driveway she felt her stomach clench and was suddenly afraid. She was about to confront a woman who had murdered two people and would have no qualms about killing her, too.

  Pushing her fear aside, Skye got out of the car and walked up the steps. She touched her fanny pack, which contained Dante’s stun gun, and hoped that Wally was in place. As soon as she rang the bell, she heard yapping, then Faith’s voice soothing the dog, and finally the door opened.

  Faith, dressed in jeans and a purple T-shirt, held the Pomeranian in the crook of her arm. “Come in. I haven’t got all day. What did you want to talk to me about?”

  Skye forced herself not to look over the shorter woman’s shoulder toward the French doors. “This won’t take long.” She entered the foyer, keeping eye contact with Faith. “Let’s go sit in the great room.”

  The women took seats, Faith on the couch and Skye across from her on a director’s chair. “So what’s so important you had to talk to me in private?”

  “Do you have my key?” Skye ignored Faith’s question and followed the city attorney’s direction.

  “Here.” From the right front pocket of her jeans Faith produced the key and handed it over to Skye. “Now, why did you want to talk to me?”

  Skye reached into her fanny pack, grabbed the folded sheet she had placed on top, and gave it to Faith. “This is a photocopy of one of the letters I have that you wrote to Cookie.”

  Twin red circles appeared on Faith’s pale cheeks. “Where did you get this? She promised me she burned my letters after reading them.”

  “She lied.” Skye looked Faith in the eye and lied herself. “She gave them to me for safekeeping, in case anything ever happened to her.” The city attorney had mentioned that it probably wouldn’t be a good thing for Skye to admit on tape to having stolen them.

  “I don’t believe you. Cookie did what I told her to. She trusted me explicitly.”

  “Yet I have the letters.”

  “So?” The expression in Faith’s violet eyes was dismissive.

  “So, I want a million dollars.”

  Faith gave a short bark of laughter. “I don’t have a million dollars. I live from paycheck to paycheck.”

  “I understand your collection of swords and Art Deco jewelry is outstanding. Sell them.”

  “I’d rather sell my child.”

  “Yes, I bet you would.” Skye stared at the woman without blinking. “Okay, here’s an alternative for you. You tell me the truth about what went down around here, I write a book—changing things just enough to protect the guilty—and you help me sell it to TV.”

  “I don’t know anything about what’s happened around here.”

  “Please, don’t be coy. I’ve guessed most of it; I just need the missing links, like why you killed Cookie and Mrs. Griggs, why you were at my family’s stand, and why you’ve been trying to frame me.”

  “I tell you, I don’t know any of that. I didn’t kill them.” Faith’s upper-crust British accent was disappearing and being replaced by the sound of London’s East End.

  “If that’s how you want to play it, I guess I’ll go to the police.” Skye paused dramatically. “No, I’ll go to the media.” She got up. “Someone will pay for this story and those letters.”


  “You’re batty.”

  “Am I?” Skye raised an eyebrow. “Then why has the National Enquirer already made me an offer?”

  Faith shrugged, her expression indifferent.

  “You’re right,” Skye continued as if Faith had answered. “I’m going to hold out for TV. I’ve got a call in to that new reality show, Shark Attack. You know, the one where they leap out at celebrities and reveal all their most humiliating secrets.”

  “No!” Faith jumped up. “Please.” She grabbed Skye’s arm. “Not Shark Attack, That show ends people’s careers. I’ll tell you what you want to know. I’ll help you sell the book to TV.”

  “Okay, start with why you and Cookie were at my family’s booth and why you killed her.” Skye freed herself from Faith’s grasp and moved nearer to the bedroom door.

  Faith followed. “Cookie wanted to move back to Chicago and live together openly. We argued and didn’t see each other for a couple of months. Then she found out I had gotten engaged to Nick and she went mad. She threatened to tell everyone that she and I had been lovers if I didn’t go back to her.” Faith clutched her dog so hard it yelped and leapt out of her arms. “My agent is negotiating with one of the big three networks to buy my show and put me on prime time. I couldn’t take that kind of exposure.”

  “So you killed her?”

  “I didn’t mean to. I told her we could get back together, but we had to keep the relationship quiet. She talked me into driving out to your family’s booth to see an Art Deco liquor cabinet she said I could pick up for next to nothing. That it would be a perfect ‘Faith’s Find.”’

  “And?” Skye prompted.

  “We were arguing by the time we got there.” Faith started to pace, and Skye was forced to accompany her, afraid the mike wouldn’t pick up her voice if she was facing away from it. “We were standing next to the open cabinet—she had unlocked the door with a straightened-out paper clip—when I told her our relationship would never work. She had to let me go. I reached into my pocket and tried to give her back the jewelry she had given me as a gift on Friday.”

  “Mrs. Griggs’s pin.”

  “Yes. I didn’t realize at the time that Cookie had broken into the old bat’s house and stolen it. Trust her to get me into trouble even after she’s dead.” Faith scowled. “Anyway, the pin was gorgeous. I hated to part with it, but it was the only way I could think of to make her see I was serious. She refused to take it, and we wrestled over it until the box fell to the ground and the pin popped out. I picked up the pin and started to hand it to Cookie, but at that moment she threatened to expose me.”

  “So you killed her.” Skye moved closer to make sure Cookie’s confession was clear on the tape.

  “I pushed the pin at her, trying to get her to take it, but it went into her throat. The tip was really sharp, almost like a real arrowhead. At first she went wild, grabbing at me and screaming she’d kill me. Then shock must have set in, and she fainted. I panicked, pushed her into the cabinet, and locked the door with the unbent paper clip she had used to open it.” Faith stopped pacing and faced Skye. “I didn’t mean to hurt her, and according to the officials it was her pulling the pin out that caused her to bleed to death.”

  Skye decided not to argue the point. “Then what did you do?”

  “There wasn’t much blood, just a little on my shirt and hands. I cleaned up with a towel I had in my car and used it to wipe my fingerprints off everything I could remember touching. Then I put it, my T-shirt, and the jewelry box into a plastic bag. I stuffed the whole thing into a sewer pipe and piled some dirt on it.”

  “What did you wear home?”

  “That wasn’t a problem. I always have extra clothes in the trunk.”

  “That explains Cookie,” Skye said. “But why Mrs. Griggs?”

  “She recognized the pin.”

  “What?”

  “I’d been wearing the pin Cookie had given me Saturday during the yard sale, and you remember I tried to talk Mrs. Griggs into letting me see inside her house?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, later on, when it got out that the pin that killed Cookie had belonged to Mrs. Griggs, she called me and told me she remembered seeing me wearing it the afternoon of the day it was used to murder Cookie.”

  “Why didn’t she go to the police?”

  “How should I know? Maybe she wanted to blackmail me, too.” Faith shot Skye a spiteful look before starting to pace again. “I convinced her to let me come to her house and explain.”

  “But instead you killed her.”

  “Not right then. She wouldn’t listen to me. She closed the door in my face, saying she was going to take a nap and think about what to do. I watched until she went upstairs. Then I climbed the trellis, and once she dozed off, I killed her.”

  Skye frowned. That must have been when Mrs. Griggs had tried to call her. “You just happened to have the sword in your car.”

  “Cookie had sold it to me a few days earlier, and I never took it out of my trunk. When I was looking for something to use to do away with the old crone, I spotted it and tucked it into my belt. It was so big, I nearly couldn’t walk; this time I was prepared. I had latex gloves to wear so I didn’t have to worry about fingerprints.” Faith shrugged. “Then when I circled the house, I noticed the trellis, and there you have it.”

  “One last thing. Why have you been trying to frame me?”

  “It was convenient. I had access to your things, and I happened to have your earrings in my pocket that day—I had decided to take them because they were too pretty for you. Anyway, it seemed like a good idea to steer the police in some direction other than my own. It wasn’t personal until you started nosing around. Then I thought it would stop you.”

  “You were the one who ambushed me at the motor court?” Skye asked, wanting to make sure she covered everything.

  “Yes. I covered you with one of the padded tarps we use to protect the antique furniture we buy. I knew you wouldn’t be badly hurt, but I thought a beating would stop your infernal poking around.”

  Skye considered. Was there anything else? No. That was it. “Okay, then I’ll write the book and you’ll help me sell it, right?”

  “Right. Let me give you my private phone number.” Faith walked into the foyer and picked up her purse.

  Skye followed, congratulating herself, and thinking that if things went as planned when Faith stepped outside, Quirk and the deputy would be there to arrest her.

  Instead Faith pulled a gun from her purse and aimed it at Skye. “Sorry. Can’t leave any loose ends.”

  Shit! She had been stupid and gotten careless. Skye started to back toward the great room, where she could get Wally’s attention, but before she took two steps Faith grabbed her arm and stuck the gun barrel in her back, forcing her through the kitchen and into the utility room.

  Skye fumbled for the stun gun, but Faith moved away before she could free it from her fanny pack.

  “I think you’ll just fit into this hamper back here.” Faith seemed almost to be talking to herself. “Since you’re so heavy, Nick will just have to come back and help me load it into my car. I can tip it into the river as I drive out of town.”

  Skye looked around for a weapon she could use from a distance. There was a bottle of bleach on the washer. She moved in front of it while Faith was emptying out the hamper. Skye managed to take off the cap and get a grip around the neck before Faith finished.

  As Faith looked up, Skye flung the bleach in the TV star’s face. At the same instant, Faith raised the gun from her side and fired.

  Both women screamed, and Wally burst into the tiny room, yelling, “Skye!”

  EPILOGUE

  Unsolved Mysteries

  “You’re a very lucky young woman.” The doctor smiled and patted Skye on the head. “The bullet passed through the under part of your upper arm without hitting anything vital. Good thing you had some extra fleshy tissue there.”

  It was Monday morning, and Skye
was in Laurel Hospital.

  “Lucky,” she murmured, thinking this was the only time that a doctor had been happy she had some spare padding on her body. Usually they were advising her to lose weight.

  Skye remembered very little about the past twelve hours. At first she had thought that Faith’s shot had missed her, since she didn’t feel anything, but soon afterward the pain was so intense she’d thought she was about to have a heart attack.

  Skye also vaguely recalled Wally cradling her in his arms until the ambulance arrived and riding with her to the hospital. But after they shot her full of pain medication in the emergency room, everything was a blur.

  The doctor was talking again, and Skye struggled to focus on what he was saying. “So, we want to observe you for the rest of the day, but if everything continues to go well, we’ll release you late this afternoon.”

  “Great.”

  “Are you up to having visitors?”

  Skye considered saying no, wanting some time alone to process what had happened, but she knew her parents would be frantic, so she nodded. “Sure.”

  “No more than three at a time.”

  “All right. Do you know if Faith Easton is okay? She was probably brought in right after I was.”

  “She’s fine. The police officer with her rinsed the bleach off right away. The only damage was to her T-shirt and jeans.” The doctor stopped at the door. “I believe the officer said they were taking her straight to the county jail.”

  A few seconds later, Skye’s mother rushed into the room, sobbing, “My baby, my baby.”

  Her father and brother followed.

  Jed awkwardly put one arm around May and used his free hand to squeeze Skye’s leg. “You okay?”

  “I’m fine. It’s only a flesh wound.”

  May turned into her husband’s arm and continued to cry. He patted her on the back and smoothed her hair.

  Skye stared. To a casual observer a wife seeking comfort in her husband’s arms wouldn’t be anything out of the ordinary, but Skye couldn’t remember the last time she had seen her mother and father embrace. For May and Jed, showing this much affection was almost as if they had started making love in the middle of the hospital room.