One Dead Cookie

by Virginia Lowell

  “That was smart,” Olivia said, not sure where Bertha’s story was leading. “I’m guessing you said no a lot more than Clarisse did?”

  “You bet I did, and it was all for their own good, because I really did love those boys.” Bertha went quiet for several moments, lost in her memories. A tentative knock on the alley door brought her back.

  Olivia looked through the peephole in the door. No one was there. She assumed it was a reporter staying out of sight in hopes she’d open the door to check the alley. “It’s nothing,” she said, to reassure Bertha.

  “Anyway,” Bertha said, “that’s my long way of saying we’ve been hiding in this store like skittish cats. Well, it’s time to bare our claws. We can’t let those vultures control us.” Bertha slapped her plump knees. “They don’t have the right to keep us from doing our jobs.” With an emphatic nod of her head, Bertha added, “I can tell you, I’m in a mood to give those creatures what for if they even try.”

  Olivia was tired of hiding. She liked the idea of going on the offensive, but she wished she had a clue what “what for” meant. “Vultures play by their own rules,” she pointed out. “They will poke and prod and snap their cameras, hoping one of us breaks, lets something slip. You and I and Maddie will probably hold up under the pressure, but I don’t know Jennifer well enough to predict how she might react.”

  “You let me handle Jennifer,” Bertha said. “I’ll give her a good talking-to and keep an eye on her.”

  According to the kitchen clock, The Gingerbread House was due to open in twenty minutes. They couldn’t afford to stay closed for another day. Besides, the thought that Binnie and her ilk could keep them trapped inside infuriated Olivia. “We’ll open on time,” she said. “Bring the others in here right now. We’ll have a meeting to set the rules. I’m counting on you to monitor Jennifer, but I realize the situation is unpredictable.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Bertha said. She sounded like a drill sergeant itching to whip the soldiers into shape. Olivia imagined the consternation Clarisse’s spoiled sons must have felt when they’d heard that tone and known the gig was up.

  “I’ll leave a message for Del and Cody,” Olivia said. “And I do believe I’ll give my mother a quick heads-up.”

  * * *

  Promptly at nine a.m., Olivia unlocked the door of The Gingerbread House. Olivia and Maddie were prepared to handle the main sales floor, while Bertha and Jennifer were assigned to defend the cookbook nook. Olivia had brought an eager Spunky downstairs to yap and nip at heels. She intended to hold on to him for the entire ordeal. Once the press had crowded into the store, she would lock the door to keep out customers, if there were any. After that, they’d wing it.

  “Places, everyone,” Olivia announced. She took a deep breath and opened the front door of The Gingerbread House. To her relief, the first person to slip inside was her mother, Ellie Greyson-Meyers, dressed in heels and a tailored suit. “Mom? What…?” Spunky jumped out of Olivia’s arms, but it didn’t matter. No rabid throng of sensation mongers surged through the door behind Olivia’s mother.

  A sleek black ribbon held Ellie’s neatly brushed hair back from her face, transforming her former-hippy hairstyle into a professional look. “Good morning, Livie, dear,” she said. “I’ve been having a lovely chat with your eager visitors, but I’m afraid quite a number of them decided they couldn’t stay any longer.” Ellie hooked elbows with her daughter and spun her around to face the front window. Olivia nearly lost her balance. Wielding remarkable strength for one so tiny, Ellie kept the two of them upright. “Now you can understand why I wouldn’t let you take tap dancing as a child, don’t you, dear?”

  “Unfair,” Olivia said. “You caught me off guard.” She did a double take when she looked out on the empty front porch. “I could have sworn I saw the press swarming outside. How did you get rid of them?”

  “You may not be aware of this, Livie, but I am a trained negotiator. While you were living in Baltimore, poor little Chatterley Heights went through rather a bad patch. Several new families had moved into town, you see. They were perfectly nice people, but I’m afraid they, as well as their offspring, were rather openly critical of small-town life.”

  “I imagine that didn’t go over well?”

  “You imagine correctly,” Ellie said. “Sadly, several school fights erupted, neighbors squabbled…. So sad. Several of us brought in a lovely young man to train us in the fine art of mediation.”

  “I also imagine you were top of the class.”

  “I was the only one who finished the class, dear.”

  “Okay, but how did you convince the press to leave us alone? Although, not all of them, I’m afraid,” Olivia said as Binnie and her niece Ned barged through the front door. Lenora Dove lingered in the open doorway, gazing out at the departing press vans.

  “Oh, Bertha is more than equal to Binnie and Ned,” Ellie said. “As for the others, I simply applied the art of negotiation, and they decided on their own that it would be best to withdraw.”

  “Yes, Mom, but what negotiation technique did you use?”

  As Ellie tilted her head, her beribboned hair swayed to one side. “Oh, I simply explained that the poor souls had been suckered. I softened the blow by feeding them the chocolate chip cookies Stacey’s kids and I baked last evening. I tried to handle the situation quietly, of course. I didn’t want to embarrass Lenora too publicly, although, between you and me, she is not blameless. You see, Lenora told Binnie that you were almost certainly hiding Stacey and her children in your store or apartment. As you know, Binnie craves respect from the bigger papers. She called them with her ‘scoop,’ only she did so without checking her facts. So unprofessional.”

  “Sometimes you are the best mom ever.”

  “Only sometimes, dear?”

  “Now how do we get rid of Binnie and Ned?”

  Ellie gave Olivia’s arm a quick squeeze, and said, “I’ll just go help Bertha with that task, shall I?”

  “This I’ve got to see. Maddie can hold the fort.” Olivia glanced around the nearly empty store to find Maddie dancing as she restocked a shelf. Olivia heard what sounded like a soft growl and noticed the empty chair near the front window. “I hear Spunky. Did you see where he went?”

  “I believe he trotted into the cookbook nook after Binnie,” Ellie said.

  “Oops. Spunky isn’t fond of Binnie, and vice versa.”

  Ellie speed-walked toward the cookbook nook, with Olivia straggling behind, as the growling exploded into a volley of yaps. Olivia arrived in time to see a tableau that would remain forever etched in her mind. Nedra, Binnie Sloan’s ethereally thin niece, crouched on top of an antique mahogany buffet, wielding a camera almost as big as she was. She snapped shot after shot of Spunky as he yapped wildly and hopped on his back legs, attempting to scale the buffet to reach Ned.

  Binnie’s more substantial form, clothed in her usual cargo pants and flannel shirt, sat cross-legged on a large side table, amidst a scattered cookie cutter display. The table wobbled when Binnie so much as turned a page in her notebook. She scribbled rapidly, her expression verging on maniacal.

  Jennifer Elsworth cowered well off to the side, staring at the scene with her mouth hanging open. Her sleek brown hair fell across her face like a protective curtain. Trusty Bertha had planted her sturdy body between Binnie and Ned. Strong arms crossed over her ample bosom, Bertha glared at the two invaders like an avenging Valkyrie judging the right moment to strike.

  Olivia couldn’t help herself; she doubled over in laughter. She knew her antique buffet would never recover from Spunky’s claws. The display table was about to collapse under Binnie’s weight, and several new cookie cutters were already bent beyond repair. Binnie would undoubtedly intensify her efforts to smear Olivia and The Gingerbread House in her Weekend Chatter blog. But Olivia couldn’t stop laughing. Her mother grinned, and even Jennifer looked a shade less horrified. When Olivia heard laughing behind her, she turned her head to see Maddie and a custo
mer holding their stomachs as they gasped for breath.

  Ellie quickly regained her gentle demeanor. She scooped Spunky into her arms and carried him a safe distance away from his captives. The fierce Yorkie wriggled for a few moments, then relaxed as Ellie stroked the hair on his neck and whispered in his ear. He snuggled closer to her. His head dropped against her shoulder, and he closed his eyes.

  Binnie Sloan’s plump cheeks reddened, a rare display of embarrassment. She slapped shut her notebook and slid off the end table, taking its contents with her. With a quick nod at Ned, she strode toward the entrance to the cookbook nook, crunching several cookie cutters along the way. Ned jumped down from her perch and followed her aunt.

  At the entrance to the main sales floor, Binnie spun around and pointed her index finger at Olivia. “You are hiding the family of a murderer, and, trust me, I will find them. They know more about the killing of Trevor Lane than the police realize, and I think you’re in on it. I’m going to blow this case wide open.”

  Binnie turned and strode toward the front door with Ned scurrying behind her. As she passed him, Spunky awakened from his hypnotic state and yapped at her. She paused in the entryway long enough to yell, “That dog of yours is a public menace.”

  Following Binnie and Ned’s dramatic exit, no one spoke. Even Spunky had nothing to add. Eventually, Maddie said, “Jennifer, would you work on straightening up the cookbook nook? The rest of us will handle the sales floor.”

  “Of course,” Jennifer said. “I could use a chance to calm down.”

  As the others straggled back to the main sales floor, Maddie asked, “Binnie wouldn’t dare go after Spunky. Would she?”

  “She might,” Ellie said, “but Spunky will prevail. Won’t you, sweetheart?” Spunky lifted his head and gazed adoringly at Ellie.

  Olivia felt the merest prick of envy. “Mom, have you been studying with that dog whisperer again? I thought you’d mastered all there was to know.”

  “I’ve moved on to terrier whispering,” Ellie said. “It’s an advanced class. Quite challenging.” Ellie settled Spunky on his favorite chair, where he melted against the soft fabric and went into a deep sleep. “He’s exhausted, poor dear.”

  “Those two have a lot of nerve,” Bertha said, “barging in here and upsetting poor little Spunky. He was minding his own business, and that skinny girl put her camera right in his face and started flashing those terrifying lights at him. He’s just a tiny tyke. How did she expect him to behave?”

  Ellie sighed. “Exactly as he did behave, I expect. I suspect it was Binnie’s idea to create a distraction, so she could slip away. She wanted a chance to search for Stacey and her children.”

  “Well, Binnie Sloan should be ashamed of herself,” Bertha said. “Spunky gave her just what she deserved.”

  Ellie stared out the front window of The Gingerbread House so long that Olivia began to feel concerned. “You look worried, Mom. Do you think Spunky might be in danger?”

  Ellie started. “What? Oh, I don’t think so. I’m just having one of my bad feelings. Perhaps I’d better get going.”

  “Is your bad feeling about Stacey and the kids?” Olivia asked.

  “Yes, dear, it is. Binnie is no fool. She’ll figure out that if Stacey hasn’t left Chatterley Heights, our house is her second most logical hiding place. Binnie knows that I am at The Gingerbread House. She might think this is a good time to peek inside my home for Stacey and her kids. She might even try to force her way inside.” Without saying good-bye, Ellie zipped out the front door, already dialing her cell phone.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Business in The Gingerbread House was surprisingly light all Friday morning, a welcome relief from the crowd of reporters gathered on the porch before the store opened. Olivia wondered if her customers had grown bored with cookie cutters and only showed up when they expected excitement. Maddie had scrounged enough cookies to fill a tray, but the free treats had hardly been touched. Could an entire town lose interest in such delectable delights? Leaving Bertha and Jennifer to handle the nearly empty sales floor, Olivia sought out Maddie in the kitchen, where she was decorating the rosewater cookies for her cookie cake.

  “Nonsense, Livie,” Maddie said when Olivia posed the question to her. “It is physically and spiritually impossible for anyone to become tired of decorated cookies. I suspect the population of Chatterley Heights is saving its collective appetite for the party tomorrow.” Maddie plunked tiny pale pink dots on the forest green icing foliage of a rosebush cookie. She’d decided to surround the perimeter of the cookie cake with a rose-garden motif. As she aimed her pastry bag at another cookie, the kitchen phone rang. “Would you get that, Livie? I’ve been letting it go so as not to waste a minute of precious decorating time. I figured folks were checking to be sure there’ll be plenty of cookies for everyone and his second cousin twice removed. I’ve never understood what that meant.”

  Olivia answered the phone and was surprised to hear Stacey Harald’s voice. “Livie? Don’t say my name out loud, okay? Can you talk?” Stacey sounded rushed.

  “Yes, I’m in the store kitchen with Maddie. Are you okay?”

  Maddie paused in her decorating to lock eyes with Olivia, who nodded when Maddie whispered, “Stacey?”

  “We’re en route to somewhere or other,” Stacey said. “Your stepdad is driving. He sneaked us out into the alley behind your house, where we got into an unmarked van. There are curtains on the back windows, so we won’t be seen. I’m relieved we don’t have to crouch on the floor. I don’t know how he got hold of this van so fast.”

  “Allan knows people,” Olivia said. “Sounds like serious subterfuge. Has something happened?”

  “Your mom had one of her bad feelings. She told us to git, and we’re gittin’ right now. Listen, Livie, I can’t talk long, and I have a lot to pass on. So don’t ask questions until I’m finished, okay?”

  “Understood,” Olivia said.

  “Allan got me this disposable cell phone. When the minutes are gone, we dump the phone. I’m not even sure where he is taking us, but it doesn’t matter. He just wants to get us away from the ravenous press, especially Binnie Sloan, may she rot in…never mind, waste of time.

  “Here’s the scoop: Wade is being arraigned for murder, possibly as we speak.” Stacey’s next words were muffled, but Olivia told herself her friend was probably trying to calm her kids’ reactions to their dad’s arrest. “Okay, I’m back. That hammer the police found in the band shell? It had Trevor Lane’s blood on it. Most of it was washed off, but I guess there was still blood in some cracks, enough to test. It was Wade’s hammer, the one he always used at Struts & Bolts Garage. Wade claims it disappeared right before the murder, and Struts backed him up. The police found Wade’s prints on the handle, smudged but identifiable. That’s all I know. Tell Maddie I’m sorry. It looks like we won’t be able to make her engagement party.”

  “When you are back home with all of this behind you, we three will celebrate,” Olivia said. “Meanwhile, Maddie and I will do whatever we can to help. It’s possible somebody killed Trevor with Wade’s hammer and somehow managed to preserve Wade’s fingerprints.”

  “I’d like to believe that,” Stacey said with a long sigh. “But when Wade is drinking, he can be really dumb. I could see him losing it, killing Trevor, and forgetting to wipe off his own prints. Anyway, thanks for your support and…you know. Oh, and before my phone croaks, I have a bit of information to pass along. I called my friend Susie at Twiterton High and asked about Jennifer Elsworth. No such name appeared in the school records, and no one who fits her description graduated from Twiterton High when Jennifer would have, or even the following year. However, here’s a wrinkle you might find interesting.” Stacey’s voice disappeared again.

  Olivia took advantage of the break to whisper the information about Jennifer to Maddie.

  “I’d better be quick,” Stacey said. “Allan says we’re almost there, wherever ‘there’ is. Susie told me there was
a Jennie who dropped out of Twiterton High after her junior year. She’d just turned eighteen, so the school didn’t follow up very well. Jennie had a rough life. She hadn’t made it to school on picture day since middle school, so there’s no photo in their high school records. Susie asked around the office and found someone who remembers Jennie vaguely. She was a pretty girl, blond, bright, but very quiet. Missed a lot of school even before she dropped out. Her mom was an addict. Jennie sort of became the grown-up who took care of the house and her mom. Her dad was out of the picture, walked out when Jennie was about eleven.

  “Here’s the real interesting part, Livie: Jennie had an older half sister who was what they used to call “slow.” Susie didn’t know much about the older girl because she didn’t attend school. There was a rumor Susie didn’t have time to follow up on. The older half sister died when Jennifer was young, maybe about nine—apparently, that part is fact. The rumor part is she was murdered.”

  “Really? Did Susie mention any suspects?” Olivia saw Maddie’s eyes widen at the mention of suspects.

  “Nope, that’s all I’ve got.”

  “Thanks, Stacey. Unless Jennifer connects up with Trevor’s murder, I’ll probably leave her past alone. After all, she did sell the red mixer for us.”

  “Seriously, that thing has been hogging your shelf since you first opened the store. Must be quite a relief to have it off your hands.”

  “Words cannot express…Anyway, hang in there, my friend. You’re in good hands. Maddie and I will do what we can from this end. Keep those rabid press hounds at bay.”

  “I can handle them,” Stacey said. “If they go after my kids, I’ll make them wish they hadn’t.”

  * * *

  Olivia realized she’d been checking her watch, on average, every five minutes. More customers might help distract her from her worries about Stacey and her family, but so far only the curious had stopped by. Olivia had sent Bertha to join Maddie in the kitchen to help with the decorating. Bertha was delighted with her new assignment. If she were a smart businesswoman, Olivia told herself, she would send Jennifer home. But something stopped her. Despite the paucity of customers, Jennifer kept busy, industriously dusting all the shelves, the cookbooks, even the individual cookie cutters hanging in mobiles around the room. To a casual observer, Jennifer might appear calm, but Olivia thought her single-minded focus had a frantic quality.