One Dead Cookie

by Virginia Lowell

  A waitress with long blond curls and a loaded tray cocked her head toward the back of the restaurant. “Sheriff Jenkins is waiting for you, third booth from the end.” The young waitress was gone before Olivia could thank her.

  Olivia saw the corner of a newspaper on the table as she approached, so she knew Del was facing the rear, as he always preferred. As she’d learned, he liked his privacy.

  Olivia poked her head around the booth’s high back said, “Hi, stranger. You look lonely. Mind if I join you?”

  “Sure,” Del said without missing a beat. “I’m waiting for someone, but she’s never on time.”

  “Her loss, my gain,” Olivia said. She had tried to startle Del many times before, but she had yet to succeed. Sometimes she wondered if he’d been born without a startle reflex. “Have I mentioned how glad I am to be dating a cop?” Olivia slid into the seat across from Del, appreciating the feeling of seclusion. “Cops get all the best tables.”

  “And I thought it was my winning smile,” Del said. He leaned across the table to give her a quick kiss. She wished it had been just a bit longer.

  “That, too,” she said.

  Del pushed aside his newspaper and reached for Olivia’s hand. “How are you and Maddie holding up?”

  “Oh, you know how it is. The baking is fun but time-consuming, and the party details are endless, but we’ll make it.”

  “Livie, what I meant was…how are you doing after finding a murder victim on your front porch?”

  “Oh.” Against her will, Olivia flashed back to the scene on The Gingerbread House porch. Was that really less than two days ago? “I guess there’s an advantage to being crazy busy,” she said. “We’ve been too distracted to stay upset.”

  “Good,” Del said. “Then I won’t have to worry about you and Maddie getting sucked into another murder investigation.”

  Olivia sensed a warning in Del’s comment and was relieved when rescue appeared in the shapely form of the young blond waitress. She poured coffee into Del’s cup. “On the house, of course,” she said with a fetching grin. Olivia got the coffee minus the smile. The waitress produced a pen and order pad from her apron pocket. “Our special today is a nice, light omelet with roasted shallots and chèvre cheese. Comes with whole-wheat toast. What would you like, ma’am?”

  Being called “ma’am” by a young thing made Olivia feel like throwing a plate. She was only in her early thirties, after all. Maybe she should take up kung fu with her mother. Or run a marathon. “I’ll take the special.”

  Del glanced at her with raised eyebrows. “What? No blueberry pancakes and cheesy eggs?”

  “At my age, I need to begin thinking about whole grains,” Olivia said.

  “At your—” Del took a deep breath. “Nope,” he said quietly, “not going there.”

  The waitress ignored Olivia’s comment. “You want your usual, Sheriff? Scrambled eggs with roasted potatoes?”

  “I have no idea what chèvre cheese is, so yes.”

  The waitress laughed in a light, flirtatious way, or so it sounded to Olivia. Del didn’t seem to notice. As the waitress sashayed off, Olivia took a sweet, creamy gulp of Italian roast and told herself that she wasn’t ready for a permanent relationship, anyway.

  “Our murder made the Baltimore Sun,” Del said, sliding the paper toward Olivia.

  “Lucky us.” Olivia skimmed the article. “At least the story doesn’t dwell too much on previous murder cases in Chatterley Heights.”

  “That’s in a separate article.” Del flipped several pages and pointed to the top of page six. “The account does concede that Trevor Lane was a well-known figure, so the killer might have followed him here.”

  “What do you think?”

  “I wait to hear what the evidence says.” Del drained his coffee and pushed his empty cup aside. Blondie the waitress, as Olivia had begun to think of her, appeared at once to fill his cup. Del said, “Thanks,” without looking up.

  “Trevor graduated from Twiterton High,” Olivia said, “so it’s conceivable his reappearance here stirred up something from the past. From my brief interaction with him, I’d say he had a nasty side.”

  “Sounds like you’ve been giving this some thought.”

  “Well, he was left on my porch,” Olivia said with what she hoped was nonchalance.

  “Livie, whoever killed Trevor has a nasty streak, too.” Del leaned toward her and lowered his voice. “Be careful. Better yet, don’t get involved. At least not any more than you already are. It’s only a matter of time before someone figures out that Stacey and her kids have disappeared to Ellie and Allan’s house.”

  “How did you—?” Olivia watched Del’s slow smile and knew she’d been tricked. “You didn’t know for sure, did you?”

  “Nope. It seemed logical, but there were other possibilities. The high school called me when Rachel and Tyler didn’t show up. I checked with the elementary school and was told Stacey had left town for a family emergency. I didn’t want to search for them, obviously, because I might accidentally point the press, or worse, in their direction. But I’m relieved to know nothing has happened to them, so thanks for that.”

  The arrival of breakfast gave Olivia a chance to think. Del dug into his scrambled eggs. Her omelet smelled delicious, though the cheese looked awfully…white. She tried a bite. Not bad, in a fluffy sort of way. Roasted shallots could make almost anything palatable.

  Although Olivia trusted Del’s investigative skills and took his warning seriously, she had no intention of abandoning Stacey’s family to the fates. On the other hand, it was foolish to keep anything from him, at least not without a very good reason. “Del, this might be nothing, but…” She had Del’s immediate attention. “This morning after Maddie and I finished baking—it was shortly after three a.m., I think—I went into the store to get Spunky so we could go to bed.” Olivia hesitated, wondering if she’d overreacted to Spunky’s behavior.

  “And? Just tell me,” Del said. “I trust your instincts.”

  Olivia relaxed. “Thanks,” she said. “That helps. Anyway, Spunky is usually a good little sleeper, but I found him wide-awake and staring out the front window of the store. I couldn’t see anything. Spunky can see better in the dark than I can. I wondered if something or someone might be out there, maybe in the park. Spunky was so intent, he barely noticed me. Then he growled a couple times. I told myself that he growls at squirrels….”

  “One question,” Del said. “Would the movement of a squirrel out in the park normally be enough to awaken Spunky from a sound sleep?”

  “He does have acute hearing,” Olivia said. “Remember when he heard Buddy howling in the park in the middle of a stormy night?” Cody Furlow, Del’s deputy, had also adopted a rescue dog, a huge black lab with a penchant for running away. Buddy and Spunky had bonded over their shared compulsion to escape confinement.

  “That dog can howl like a banshee,” Del said. “As I remember, you said you could hear Buddy’s howling, too, right?”

  “Not at first, but yes. Once I got close to the window, it was hard to miss. And you’re right, when I’m inside The Gingerbread House, I would never hear a squirrel in the park. I doubt I’d hear one even with the windows open. Come to think of it, when Spunky notices a squirrel, it’s only when he is watching out the window. I think he is seeing it move, rather than hearing it. However, even if someone was in the park last night, making enough noise to awaken Spunky, it might not be relevant to Trevor’s murder.”

  Del didn’t comment. He rubbed his chin and frowned at nothing in particular. Olivia had seen this behavior before. Either Del was thinking through a problem, or he needed a shave. All she could do was wait. With some reluctance, Olivia picked up her whole-wheat toast. She didn’t mind wheat toast, but this piece looked really…hearty. She took a small bite. It was sweeter than she’d expected. However, when Del took a deep breath, Olivia abandoned her toast without regret.

  Del leaned across the table and captured Olivia�
��s hand. She had to shift closer to the table to hear his voice. “From now on, Livie, if you see or hear anything even the least bit suspicious, call me at once. Or 911, if you can’t get hold of me. What I’m about to tell you must not get out. Okay? Don’t even tell Maddie.” Del paused, waiting for her to respond.

  Olivia nodded. “I promise. I know you’ll have good reasons.” It was tough to keep anything from Maddie, but it probably wouldn’t be for long. In Chatterley Heights, secrets had a way of leaking out.

  “All right, then.” Del’s shoulders relaxed, but he kept his voice low. “Sometime during the night, someone placed a hammer on the bench inside the band shell. He or she did this after taking a swing at the outside of the band shell, leaving a neat and very noticeable hole in the wood near the foundation. There’s paint on the hammerhead that matches the band shell paint.”

  “Is it the murder weapon?”

  “Can’t be sure,” Del said. “It’s still going through forensics.” He checked his watch. “I need to leave in about twenty minutes to meet with the medical examiner. I should know more after that.”

  “Del, I just thought of something you said about the break-in at Lady Chatterley’s. Wasn’t a hammer used to try to force the safe open? Could the murder weapon be that same hammer?”

  “Until we have evidence to the contrary, we’re assuming it’s a coincidence that hammers were used for both crimes.”

  “Okay, but if the hammer you found this morning turns out to be the murder weapon, wouldn’t that clear Wade Harald? Obviously, Wade couldn’t have whacked the band shell this morning because he was in custody. Right?”

  Del ran his fingers through his hair, a sign of frustration. “Livie, I wish it were that simple. Wade might have tossed it away after the murder. Maybe someone else found it, wanted to turn it in, but didn’t want to get involved. Or the hammer we found might not be the murder weapon. And you might want to consider that someone left that hammer at the band shell to create reasonable doubt about Wade’s guilt.” Del rolled his shoulders in circles as if they felt stiff.

  “You mean someone like Stacey Harald?” Olivia asked. “You think she sneaked out of Mom and Allan’s house in the wee hours to plant that hammer?”

  Del paused before answering. “Livie, I know you’re worried, but I promise you, we are covering every angle. It’s just that…well, there’s no point in speculating until we learn if the hammer we found is the murder weapon. Then we’d have to check alibis. However, thanks to you and Spunky, we are closer to knowing when that hammer was delivered to the band shell. You can understand why I don’t want anyone to get wind of—”

  “I gave my word, Del, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay, then.” Olivia grumpily pushed aside her plate with the leftover whole-wheat toast.

  Del chuckled and snatched her hand again. “And thank you,” he said.

  “For what? Doing my duty as a citizen?”

  “That, too.” Del pulled her across the table for a good-bye kiss, longer this time. “And for covering breakfast for me.” He slid out of the booth and into his uniform jacket. “I’m sorry, Livie. I know I invited you, but I’ve been so busy, I haven’t had time to get to the bank.”

  “And you don’t use a credit or debit card,” Olivia said, “for reasons I’ve never understood.”

  “Too easy to overspend. My salary isn’t great, and I’m afraid I don’t have your head for math,” Del said with a sheepish smile.

  “Jerk,” Olivia said, a bit louder than necessary.

  Del chuckled. “I love you, too.” He grabbed his uniform hat and disappeared into the breakfast throng.

  * * *

  From a block away, Olivia knew something was wrong at The Gingerbread House. The store wasn’t due to open for at least forty-five minutes, yet she recognized a number of Chatterley Heights citizens standing on the porch. Additional clusters of people milled around on the grass and the sidewalk. Lenora Dove was holding court amid a group of camera-toting strangers. Olivia hesitated. She didn’t see Maddie’s unmistakable mop of red hair. She must be inside the store.

  Olivia quickly changed her route, scooting across the grass between the Chatterley Café and a small toy store next door. To keep out of sight, she walked two blocks north, then turned east and continued until she reached the alley that ran behind The Gingerbread House. Olivia scanned the alley and saw no signs of activity. She sprinted to the store’s back door. Luckily, Lucas had installed a new lock as well as a peephole for those times when Snoopy Sam Parnell made one of his surprise visits to deliver an “urgent package.”

  Olivia reached The Gingerbread House without interference. She slid her key into the lock and pushed. The door shifted, opened a crack, and stuck. Maddie must have used the old latch. Olivia knocked, hoping no one was lurking nearby in the alley. She thought she heard a gasp from inside the kitchen.

  “Maddie? Are you in there? It’s me, let me in.”

  Through the open crack, Olivia heard a soft, frightened voice ask, “Livie?” It sounded breathless, like Bertha when her asthma was acting up. “Livie, are you sure it’s you?”

  “Absolutely certain.” Olivia heard voices nearby, perhaps from the side yard. “Bertha, hurry, let me in. Someone is coming.”

  “Oh dear.” Hands fumbled with the latch and the door opened.

  Olivia slipped into the kitchen and slammed the door behind her. She turned to see Bertha looking far from her usual cheerful self. Her red cheeks alarmed Olivia, who remembered how precarious Bertha’s health had been before she’d lost sixty pounds. “Sit down and take deep, slow breaths,” Olivia ordered as she pulled out a kitchen chair. She gave Bertha’s shoulder a gentle push until she sank onto the seat.

  “My goodness, you wouldn’t believe—” Bertha gasped for air.

  “First, breathe,” Olivia said. “Then you can talk.” By now, she could hear voices outside in the alley. She glanced back at the door and realized she’d closed the old latch but had neglected to flip the new lock. The latch should hold, but she wasn’t about to take the chance. The lock made a faint clicking sound as she secured it. From the chattering outside, Olivia assumed someone had heard. Well, they’d have to hack down the door to get inside the kitchen.

  Olivia felt as if she’d wandered into a vampire movie. She pulled over a chair for herself and said, “Okay, Bertha, you may now speak. What the heck is going on here?”

  “Oh, Livie, it’s the strangest thing,” Bertha said. “Maddie and Jennifer and I were restocking shelves, getting ready to open, you know? I looked out the window. For no particular reason, you understand, just to admire the morning. We weren’t due to open for over an hour, and with three of us there at one time, well, there wasn’t any reason to go rushing about—”

  Olivia began to regret giving Bertha permission to speak.

  “—and anyway, there she was!” Bertha shuddered. “She was on the porch with her face up against the window, staring right at me with that awful grin that makes her look like the Bride of Frankenstein. I nearly fainted.”

  “Whoa, wait a moment, are you talking about Lenora Tucker?”

  “I certainly am,” Bertha said. “Or whatever her name is today. I thought I’d have a heart attack right then and there. I guess I sort of screamed, and Maddie came running. Then I looked back at the window, and there were more of them!”

  “More…people?”

  “If you can call them that,” Bertha said. “Leeches, that’s what I’d call them. Horrible clingy things trying to suck our blood. They had cameras, and they started flashing away right through The Gingerbread House window. Binnie was there, too, with that skinny little niece of hers holding up a camera bigger than she was. Maddie quick closed the curtains for the little window, but there’s no thick covering for the big front window. Jennifer and I tried to find a sheet or something. We finally gave up. We’ve been pretending to ignore them. The kitchen door to the alley was locked, but I bolted it, too, because you
never know what creatures like that will do.” Bertha’s breathing began to slow down. Sharing her horror had weakened its power.

  Olivia was relieved to see Bertha’s color return to normal. “Why are they being so persistent? What can they possibly want from us? And why don’t they just call and ask like normal people?”

  “They did,” Bertha said. “We found a million phone messages when we got to the store this morning, so we turned off the message machine and let the dang thing ring its silly head off. Those monsters finally gave up and came on over to the store, thinking they’d just walk right in. They want to hound Stacey and her kids, that’s what they want. Like the poor things don’t have enough trouble and strife. Lenora Tucker got it in her head that you’d spirited them off somewhere. She convinced those ruffians you must be hiding them in the store or maybe your apartment. I’m surprised they haven’t scaled the walls and broken in.”

  Olivia almost suggested boiling oil but censored herself in time. “Did you call the police department?”

  “All we got was a recording,” Bertha said with disgust. “We decided it wasn’t worth bothering 911, as long as the locks held. Maddie said we should wait for you.”

  Olivia sat next to Bertha and pondered what to do. The first idea that popped into her head involved a cookie and a long nap with Spunky snuggled behind her knees. It was a tempting course of inaction. With great reluctance, she let the notion drift away. “Well,” Olivia said, “I guess we have about half an hour to think of some way to get rid of them. I suppose it ought to be legal.”

  With an appreciative laugh, Bertha said, “Don’t see why they deserve to be treated with kid gloves. I didn’t say anything to Maddie because it isn’t my place, but I learned a thing or two taking care of Clarisse’s two sons all those years. You know I loved Clarisse like a sister, but she spoiled those boys. They got everything they wanted. They’d beg and whine, and Clarisse would just give in. She knew she wasn’t doing them any favors, letting them get so selfish and demanding. One day we had a long talk about it. Clarisse decided to let me take over. From then on, those boys had to get past me if they wanted something.”