One Dead Cookie

by Virginia Lowell

  “But wait! There’s more!” Whenever Maddie mimicked a late-night infomercial, it meant she’d kept the juiciest news for last.

  “Of course there is,” Olivia said.

  “I hear weary resignation in your voice, Livie. However, you need to hear this; it’s weird.”

  “Is this another invention from Binnie’s strange mind?” Olivia removed three cutters from her box. She’d netted a six-petaled flower, a bunny, and an Eiffel Tower shape. The flower worked, and the bunny was gardenish, in a cute yet destructive way. The Eiffel Tower went back into the box.

  “Binnie swears up and down in her blog that this rumor came anonymously through email.” Maddie’s normally bubbly tone had quieted. “If I had access to that email, I could probably track the source, but Binnie claims she deleted it to protect her source from exposure.

  “Here’s the scoop: Del has become interested in ‘a pretty, younger woman’ who works part-time in The Gingerbread House. You are furious. You are threatening to fire your pretty, younger, part-time employee. At least Binnie didn’t publish Jennifer’s name, address, and phone number.”

  “This is disturbing.” Olivia abandoned her one-handed cookie cutter search and curled her legs underneath her on the sofa. “Everyone knows the only young woman we’ve hired lately is Jennifer Elsworth. I doubt the poor woman has been in town for more than a few days. I’ve gotten in Binnie’s way more than once, so I can understand her going after me. I don’t care what nonsense she makes up about my life, but I won’t have her dragging our employees into her nasty little fantasies.”

  “Binnie is clever, in a sneaky, conniving kind of way,” Maddie said, “but why would she take revenge on you through an innocent bystander? You and Del will just ignore her insults, as long as they aren’t illegal. But Binnie doesn’t know Jennifer. What if she has a violent temper…or a boyfriend with a violent temper? Or what if she sues Binnie for slander or something? Wait, I’m starting to enjoy this.”

  “It’s libel, not slander, and anyway, it takes only a few minutes to get on Binnie’s bad side,” Olivia said. “Maybe Jennifer insulted Nedra.”

  “Possible,” Maddie said. “Binnie loves that strange niece of hers. Jennifer is pretty and personable, and Ned is Ned. She’s emaciated, rarely speaks, points her camera at you when you’re emptying the garbage…. I’ll stop there.”

  “I suppose we don’t know Jennifer very well, either,” Olivia said. “She’s great with customers, and she knows a fair amount about cookie cutters and making decorated cookies. Which is why we—or more accurately, you—hired her without references. Have you talked with her about this rumor of Binnie’s?”

  “You bet I did.” Maddie sounded as close to angry as Olivia had ever heard her. “I told Jennifer that the best way to handle Binnie Sloan is to ignore anything she says or does. That drives her crazy. I said, ‘Don’t let Binnie get to you. If someone is rude enough to repeat what she blogged about you, just roll your eyes and snort in derision.’ I had to demonstrate that for her, so we ended up laughing. I offered to help her sue Binnie, but she shrugged and said it wasn’t important. So I think she’s okay for now.”

  Olivia checked her watch. “Gotta go, Maddie. I’ve got some creative baking to do if you want those special cookies for your engagement bash. I’m opening the store tomorrow. I’ll have a talk with Jennifer when she comes in to work. I don’t really know much about her. Not that I’m worried Del might really be interested in her.”

  “Livie, are you really mad at me for hiring Jennifer without consulting you? Do you think I screwed up and hired a heartless home wrecker?”

  “I didn’t say that,” Olivia said. “She’s a bit hard to read, that’s all I mean.”

  “Hard to read like, maybe, a sociopathic killer?”

  “Good night, Maddie.”

  Chapter Two

  A short burst of church bells in the distance roused Olivia from a dreamless sleep, but not enough to awaken her. She found them soothing. When the bells pealed a second time, Olivia wished they would stop clanging and let her…Wait, what day was it? Was she snoozing through Maddie’s engagement party? Had she remembered to deliver the cookie cake? Had she even started the cookie cake?

  When Spunky launched into his ferocious protector-of-the-house bark, Olivia shot upright and realized at once that she wasn’t in bed. She’d fallen asleep scrunched into a fetal position next to the box of cookie cutters that took up half her sofa. She still wore the jeans and raggedy sweatshirt she’d changed into after a quick supper. She must have wilted from sheer exhaustion, because she’d left the television on. A tiger chased a herd of zebras, their cries muted to faint murmurs. Olivia rooted for the zebras. She’d also left her living room windows open and the lights on. Way to save energy, Livie.

  The chimes rang again, but this time Olivia recognized them as her front doorbell. Spunky growled through bared teeth, ready to take on whatever evil creature threatened his territory, his food, and his Olivia.

  “Hush, Spunky. I’m sure there’s a rational explanation.” Olivia checked her watch. Five a.m. Apparently, the Dixie Cups were also up early and, according to Olivia’s cell phone, were off to the Chapel of Love with the intention of getting married. Maddie was forever changing Olivia’s ringtone. She grabbed her cell and flipped it open before the Dixie Cups could repeat their matrimonial plans. As Olivia prepared a curt greeting for her caller, someone pounded on the front door of her house. It couldn’t be Maddie; she had keys to both the front door and the foyer door, which opened into The Gingerbread House.

  “Doesn’t anybody sleep anymore?” Olivia hadn’t intended her lament to be quite so loud. A familiar laugh drifted through the open front window, which faced the town square. Del? She stumbled toward the window.

  An equally familiar voice chirped from the cell phone in Olivia’s hand. “We can sleep when we’re too old to party.” Maddie sounded altogether too alert. “You’ll be fine, Livie. You just need a cookie.”

  Olivia peered downward through her living room window screen, but the porch hid the front door. “Del? Is that you?” Del Jenkins, sheriff of Chatterley Heights, left the porch and appeared as a shadowy figure on the lawn. He looked up at Olivia’s window and waved.

  “Did you say Del is with you?” Maddie’s voice asked from the cell phone in Olivia’s hand.

  Del disappeared. In a few seconds, he pounded on the front door, as if Olivia could possibly forget he was out there. “Hey, Livie, let me in. It’s cold.” She was grateful there were no neighbors to awaken. At night, Olivia’s Queen Anne was the only occupied building around the town square’s perimeter.

  Del Jenkins might be Olivia’s “special friend”—to use her mother’s quaint phrase—but that didn’t mean he could simply show up before dawn without warning. Unless…Maddie and Del were trying to get hold of her at five a.m. For Maddie, this wasn’t so unusual. But both at the same time? What were the odds?

  Olivia grabbed her keys and ran downstairs with a yapping Yorkie racing ahead of her. When she reached the foyer, she grabbed Spunky to keep him from leaping into the predawn darkness. With a wiggling dog under one arm, Olivia fumbled with the lock and deadbolt for the front door. As soon as the door cracked opened, Del slid through.

  “I was sure glad to see you at the window, Livie. When you didn’t answer your doorbell, I got worried.” Del wore his full sheriff’s uniform. When he removed his hat, his straight sandy hair fell forward, covering one eye. His visible eye, red-rimmed and puffy, told Olivia how little sleep he’d had.

  “Worried? What’s happening? Please don’t tell me there’s been another murder.” Olivia squeezed Spunky too hard, and he yelped.

  Del gave her a brief, mirthless smile. “No murder, nothing like that. It’s all under control now. Sorry I overreacted, it’s just that…” Del ran his fingers through his hair, a gesture Olivia recognized.

  “If it’s all over, come on upstairs for a cup of coffee.” Olivia locked and bolted the fr
ont and foyer doors and climbed the stairs to her apartment. Del followed, once he’d tested all the doors to make sure they were securely locked.

  “Thanks, I could use a caffeine infusion,” Del said. “Cody is trying to finish up some crime-scene coursework in DC, so I’m covering his duties. It’s been slow and tedious, but not exactly exhausting…until the last few hours, that is.”

  Olivia locked her apartment door behind them before releasing her grip on Spunky. She was convinced he knew how to open an unlocked door. The poor guy had started life in a puppy mill, where he was neglected and mistreated, leaving him with one front paw turned slightly inward. Not that it slowed him down. In fact, the injured paw only seemed to bother him when he was angling for an extra treat.

  Olivia led the way to her kitchen, where she measured Italian roast into Mr. Coffee’s basket. “You look awful,” she said to Del. “I meant that in a kind and concerned way,” she added while she filled the coffeepot with fresh water.

  “Thanks.”

  Olivia pressed the machine’s on button, almost tripping over Spunky as he circled her feet, using mental telepathy to transmit the word “treat” to her brain. Spunky gave her a stern yap.

  “You’ve already been fed,” Olivia reminded him.

  “Gee,” Del said, “and I was hoping for a cookie.”

  “Men.” Olivia scrounged a plate and two clean cups from her dishwasher.

  Del tossed his hat on the kitchen counter, shed his uniform jacket, and slumped onto a chair. “I tried your cell, but it went right to voice mail.”

  “I was probably talking to Maddie.” Olivia’s cell phone lay on the living room table, where she’d tossed it when Del arrived. “Oops,” she said. “I hung up on her.”

  Del stood and reached for his hat. “Go ahead and call her. I really should get back to the station.”

  “Oh no you don’t. Sit.” When Olivia pressed hard on Del’s shoulder, he didn’t resist. “Come on, Del, you practically wore out my doorbell, pounded on my door, demanded to be let in, declared yourself worried about me…this all before dawn, mind you.” The coffee hadn’t finished dripping, but Olivia sloshed some into a cup. She plunked it down in front of Del. “Explain yourself.”

  Del took a long gulp of coffee, nearly draining the cup. “This is not for public consumption,” he said.

  “That goes without saying.” Olivia refilled his cup and reunited Mr. Coffee with his pot.

  “There’s been a break-in at Lady Chatterley’s.”

  Olivia stifled a giggle; Del’s curt statement sounded like a line from a racy mystery spoof. However, Lady Chatterley’s Clothing Boutique for Elegant Ladies was a perfectly respectable, upscale shop on West Park Street, a prime location on the busy town square. “Was anyone hurt?”

  “It was night, so the store was empty,” Del said, “They never keep more than a few hundred dollars in cash on hand, and it gets locked in the safe at closing. We’re not entirely sure when the break-in occurred. The manager called us.”

  “Lola goes to work in the middle of the night? What dedication.”

  Del laughed. “What really happened is even more amusing. Lola got a call at about four a.m. from Ida, the waitress at Pete’s Diner. Ida went in to work early to make some…I don’t know, muffins or something. She thought she saw movement at Lady Chatterley’s’ front door, so she dug out her binoculars and had a look. The front door was open and swinging in the wind. Ida thought that was odd, called the store, got no answer, and so on.”

  “Sounds like Ida.” Olivia sipped her coffee and thought back to Spunky’s behavior the night before. “You know, I might be able to help pinpoint the time of the break-in.”

  Del’s eyebrows shot up. “Tell me.”

  “To be more accurate,’ Olivia said, “it was Spunky. He was fussing about not getting his treats, and then he suddenly began yapping out the front window. I doubt he heard anything, but he was wiggling around on the desk. I think he saw some movement outside. He was upset enough to forget about treats, so I’d say it was serious.”

  “When was this?”

  “Around midnight,” Olivia said, “maybe a bit later. I went to look out the window, but I don’t have Spunky’s remarkable vision. After a bit, he got bored and settled down. That’s all I’ve got.”

  “It helps, thanks.” Del jotted some notes on a small pad.

  “Was anything taken?”

  “Lola didn’t think so,” Del said. “The intruder took a hammer to the safe, but he didn’t get into it. Anyway, we think it was a hammer.”

  “A hammer? Isn’t that a bit odd? There must be more effective ways to get into a safe.” Olivia fixed herself half a cup of coffee with cream and sugar.

  “It isn’t that easy,” Del said. “Lady Chatterley’s has state-of-the-art protection. Given the prices they charge, a thief might assume they keep lots of cash on hand. Especially if that thief was, say, an addict who was thinking more about his next fix than the most efficient way to break into a safe.”

  Del lifted his cup with both hands and frowned at its contents. Olivia knew that look. Either it was time to run some vinegar through her Mr. Coffee machine to dissolve the crud, or Del was bothered by some aspect of the break-in. “What are you thinking?” she asked. “Pretend I’m Cody.”

  “That’s a stretch,” Del said, laughing. “And I mean that literally. You are tall, but not six foot three.”

  “I was hoping for: ‘You’re much more attractive, Livie,’ but never mind. Your deputy is out of town; talk to me. Don’t make me guess.” Olivia tried hard not to inject herself into Del’s police work, and normally that was easy. She didn’t care how many speeding tickets he handed out in the course of the day. But a robbery attempt in Chatterley Heights, town of her birth? She took that personally.

  “So, got any cookies?” Del gave her a grin that felt like a hug.

  “When have I not kept cookies stashed away for the odd dropper-in?”

  “Odd?”

  “As in charming and fun.” Olivia reached for a covered cake pan on top of her refrigerator. “These are fresh. I’m experimenting with recipes for Maddie and Lucas’s party.”

  “I go for the old standbys myself,” Del said. “I’ve never figured out what’s in them, but I know what I like.”

  “Well, if these cookies are awful, I’d rather hear it from you than from the hungry and disappointed hordes at Maddie’s party on Saturday. My reputation is at stake. I’m convinced Maddie doesn’t believe I can pull off this baking feat without her help. I’m having doubts myself.”

  Del reached into the pan and selected a lion shape decorated with burgundy fur and a purple dragée eye. “I did a quick assessment and determined he’s the biggest and fiercest cookie.”

  “I expected no less.” Olivia poured the last of the coffee into his cup, rinsed the pot and basket, and added more grounds and water. When she pushed the start button and turned around, Del was chewing the lion’s head. He had a puzzled expression on his face.

  “Are you thinking about the break-in again?” Olivia asked.

  “Um, not really.” Del wedged the remains of his cookie on his saucer.

  “I see,” Olivia said. “You hate the cookie.”

  “I don’t hate it exactly.” Del avoided Olivia’s eyes.

  “It’s okay, I’m a grown-up baker. I can take it,” Olivia said. “But time’s a-wasting, and I need feedback. What is it about the cookie that makes it unappealing? Taste? Texture? Its very existence?”

  “I wouldn’t call it unappealing exactly. All right, Livie, in the interests of scientific analysis and as long as you won’t take it personally.” Del took a small bite of the offending cookie and closed his eyes. “It’s a bit…I don’t know, maybe…understated? Your cookies are usually so rich and buttery or spicy or whatever the right terms are. They have a lot of flavor. I can’t stop eating them. This one is…” Del cast a furtive glance at the kitchen door, his only escape. “Well, it’s bland. It doesn�
�t have much flavor. And the texture is weird.”

  Del watched her so warily that Olivia had to laugh. “To be honest, you confirmed my suspicions. For some reason I thought it would be a good idea to try making more healthy cutout cookies. So I replaced some of the butter with the low cholesterol fake stuff. That changed the texture, and not for the better. Also, I used too much, so I had to keep adding flour to get it to roll out, which made it drier and less tasty. I would have rolled it out in confectioners’ sugar, but I was trying to limit the sugar content. So thank you, Del. Now I don’t need to inflict my experiment on anyone else.” Olivia confiscated the remainder of his lion and dropped it into the garbage can. The remaining cookies suffered the same fate. Finally, Olivia brought a small box to the table. “These are the old standbys you remember,” she said. “Something to cleanse the palate.”

  Del opened the box and selected the top cookie, a simple pink daisy shape with a red outline around the petals. He took a substantial bite and sighed. Reaching across the table, Del covered Olivia’s hand with his own. “Cookies,” he said, “are not meant to be healthy.”

  “Words of great depth and wisdom,” Olivia said. “Now back to the break-in at Lady Chatterley’s. I have a question. They sell a lot of expensive clothing in that store. I know Chatterley Heights is a small town, and maybe I’m jaded from living in a big city, but I’d expect a store as sophisticated as Lady Chatterley’s to have a good alarm system.”

  “They do,” Del said, shaking his head. “Like I said, state-of-the-art. That’s what bothers me. Lola closed up yesterday, and she swears she set the alarm system, as always. But it was deactivated. That took some know-how.”