One Dead Cookie

by Virginia Lowell

  “Don’t be hasty, Livie, we don’t actually know that the mother was an addict at the time of Melissa’s death.”

  “Good point.” Olivia thought about how she would feel if she had a daughter whose life was cut short in such an ugly way. “I suppose the addiction might have followed the death of her daughter. Or she returned to a habit she had kicked earlier, maybe for the sake of her children.”

  Maddie stared at the screen for a few moments. “We keep hearing about Melissa’s ‘slowness’ or ‘mental incapacity.’ What if her mother was hooked on drugs when she had Melissa, then kicked the habit when she realized how her child had been affected? That might explain why Jennifer seems quite intelligent.”

  “Makes sense,” Olivia said. “Grief led the mother back to drugs, and her younger, healthier daughter became her caregiver. Poor woman.”

  “Poor Jennifer.” Maddie closed the computer screen.

  “Stacey’s friend said Jennifer had a half sister,” Olivia said. “So the father who left after his wife turned back to drugs might have been—”

  “Jennifer’s father!” Maddie clapped her hand over her mouth. “Oops. Sorry, too much energy.” Settling back in her chair, Maddie skimmed the text again. “An unnamed younger sister is mentioned, but that’s all.”

  “Which makes me wonder if Jennifer might have posted this piece herself.”

  Maddie shrugged. “Because she isn’t identified by name? I’ve never seen Jennifer go near a computer, so I can’t judge her skill level. She could be a genius hacker for all I know and lying about her abilities. On the other hand, maybe she had help with this post.”

  “The real question,” Olivia said, “is why? What did she, or possibly someone else, hope to accomplish by posting this anonymous piece about Melissa’s death?”

  “Perhaps she hopes someone out there knows her sister was murdered and by whom.” Maddie slumped back in her chair and stared at the screen. “Here’s the odd part. There’s no way to post comments. Maybe this was meant as a warning to one person. ‘I know what you did….’ You know, to flush out a suspect.”

  “How would it reach the suspects?”

  Maddie laughed. “Easy, the same way folks download malware. You hack into address books and send an email with a link in it to all the people on the list. The email looks like it’s coming from a friend, so some recipients won’t think twice about clicking on the link. Et voyeur, you’ve downloaded something nasty to your computer.” Maddie frowned. “I didn’t get that French phrase right, did I?”

  “I don’t keep you around for your expertise in French,” Olivia said.

  “Thanks ever so much.”

  Olivia’s mind was spinning with too many possibilities. “If Jennifer had anything to do with this post, maybe Binnie is on to something. I can’t believe I said that.”

  “There’s no way Jennifer could have carried Trevor to our porch.”

  “I know,” Olivia said.

  “Do you think she had help? Dougie could have carried him. Or Howie, or Wade? Or maybe all of them?”

  “I’m not sure I—”

  “Ooh, maybe it was like that short story we read in English class. Remember, Livie? There was this lottery, and everyone in the village had to take a number…I forget the rest. Anyway, maybe Jennifer, Dougie, and Howie are all in on it together, and they picked straws to see who would kill Trevor. Maybe they picked Wade as the fall guy because he’s such an obvious suspect with an obvious motive.”

  “Down, girl,” Olivia said. “No more sugar for you.”

  Maddie hopped out of her seat as if her energy had reached the point of explosion. “I think better on dancing feet.” She executed a quick spin toward the worktable. “If I may take a leap of logic,” she said, “what if Jennifer suspected Trevor had something to do with Melissa’s death? What if that post was also sent to Trevor personally as a warning that she was on to him? What if Trevor tracked Jennifer down and trekked all the way to Chatterley Heights, um…to buy her off or something? I’m running out of what-ifs.”

  “Thank goodness.”

  “Fine, let’s hear your theory,” Maddie said as she began to pack up the remaining cooled and decorated cookies for the party.

  “I don’t have a clear theory yet.” Olivia stood up and stretched. “However, I do think you’ve done a good job of identifying the suspects in Trevor’s murder. I’d still add Wade Harald to the list. And yes, we need to consider the possibility that two or more of them cooperated in the murder.”

  “As long as my brilliance is recognized,” Maddie said. “Oh, and I almost forgot.” With no apparent effort, she accessed Olivia’s account. “As requested…”

  Olivia took Maddie’s place and read Allan’s email:

  Livie, here’s the scoop on Howie Upton. He wasn’t simply laid off. He was fired from his investment job for suspected insider trading. Howie hid his tracks well. My buddy said the firm was in a bind. They suspected Howie had set up a coworker to look like the guilty party, but they couldn’t prove it. So they ended up just firing both of them, but neither was prosecuted. That’s why Howie was able to get a teller job at the bank. The other guy wasn’t so lucky. He shot himself. Hope this helps.

  Love, Allan

  By the way, our mutual friends are in good hands.

  “I assume you read this?” Olivia asked.

  “I did. Sobering.”

  Olivia deleted Allan’s message and closed the computer lid.

  “So, what’s next?” Maddie asked. “More computer searches?”

  “Did you look for any other references to Melissa Nortenson’s death?” Olivia asked.

  “I meant to dig deeper for that,” Maddie said as she opened the laptop. “Thanks for reminding me.” Her fingers bounced around the keyboard at a dizzying pace. “Ah, this looks like a good one. It’s from the Baltimore Sun, a few weeks after Melissa’s death.”

  Olivia drew her chair closer. “Good choice. This discusses the investigation. Looks like the police hit a brick wall until…” She pointed to a paragraph near the end. “Can you read this?”

  “Oh. My. God. Trevor Lane was a suspect. I knew it! This could be the connection we’ve been looking for,” Maddie said. “A classmate claimed to have seen him with Melissa earlier in the evening. The classmate isn’t named.”

  “Not surprising,” Olivia said. “I see that Trevor was questioned and released due to lack of physical evidence, plus a friend, also unnamed, came forward to give him an alibi.”

  “Do you think the friend was Dougie?” Maddie’s mood had sobered. “I sort of liked Dougie. Would he lie for Trevor?”

  “Probably. If he did, that lie might have secured a lifetime job for him.” Despite the warmth in the kitchen, Olivia shivered.

  “Golly.”

  Olivia glanced up at the kitchen clock. “We close in two hours. How ready are we for the party tomorrow afternoon?”

  “We have baked and decorated with superhuman speed, so we’re nearly finished. The cookie cake is ready for assembly, which will be a snap. All we’ll need is a small batch of royal icing to glue the cookies together in a pyramid. Oh, and we need those rose petals, though I’m beginning to lose hope. If they don’t arrive in the next—”

  As if on cue, they heard a tentative knock on the kitchen door, and Bertha poked her head inside. “Snoop—I mean, Sam Parnell is here with a package for you, Maddie. I tried to get it away from him, but he insisted it’s his duty as a representative of the United States Postal Service to deliver important packages in person. What should I do with him?”

  “Knock him on the head, tie his hands, gag him, and lock him in the inventory closet,” Maddie said with unseemly glee. “Only don’t damage the package.”

  Bertha’s lips parted, but no words emerged.

  “Tempting,” Olivia said, “but impractical. There isn’t much room in the closet, and Sam might mess with the inventory. You’d better bring him into the kitchen. Thanks, Bertha.”

  B
ertha nodded and withdrew. Olivia heard a distinct giggle before the door shut.

  Olivia shot a stern glance at her friend. “Have you gotten those snarky impulses out of your system, Maddie? Because we don’t need Sam on the warpath more than he already is.”

  Maddie smiled in a way that wasn’t entirely reassuring. “Just girlish high spirits,” she said. “Or maybe wedding nerves. Take your pick. And don’t look at me like that, Livie. I’ll be good.”

  Before Olivia could respond, Sam barged into the kitchen as if a stove had caught fire and he was rushing in to save the womenfolk. “My shift’s over,” Sam said in a nasal whine that made everything sound like a complaint. “I volunteered to drop off this Express Mail delivery on my way home. I figured it was important for your little shindig tomorrow.” He held a white box with a blue stripe tightly against his chest. When Olivia reached toward the package, Sam took a step back and sniffed the air. Focusing on a cooking rack covered with decorated cookies, he said, “Smells good in here. I got a shift tomorrow afternoon, so I won’t be able to make it to your little get-together. I sure hate to miss those cookies.”

  Olivia exchanged a quick glance with Maddie. “We can fix that, Sam. Why not have a cookie now? We’ve made plenty of extras. Have a seat, and I’ll pour you a cup of coffee.” Olivia emptied the last of the coffee into a clean cup and placed it on the kitchen table.

  “Don’t mind if I do.” Sam scraped a chair over to the table and sat down. The smug grin on his face made Olivia uneasy. When Sam was in a good mood, it usually meant he was about to deliver unsettling gossip.

  Maddie plunked two cookies on a plate and clattered it on the table near Sam. He picked up a fuchsia-striped wedding cake, and said, “I suppose you’re all in a tizzy about that party. Women get so worked up over these things.”

  Maddie and Olivia were standing on either side of Sam’s chair. They locked eyes over his head. Maddie’s expression said, May I tear him limb from limb now? Sam squirmed in his seat as if he sensed the silent communication between the two friends. He scooped up the second cookie, scraped back his chair, and stood up. “Well, gotta get going,” he said. Leaving a nearly full coffee cup, Sam took a step toward the kitchen door, hesitated, and turned around to face the women. “I’m surprised to find you two acting so calm, like nothing is wrong,” he said. “I mean, considering the trouble your friend is in.”

  Olivia’s body tensed, but she tried not to show it. “I have a number of friends,” she said.

  “Only one of them’s on the run, though, right?” Sam’s thin lips formed what Olivia supposed was a grin. His crooked front teeth peeked through. “Looks like she’s as guilty as that no-good drunken husband of hers.”

  Stacey? Guilty? Olivia clenched her teeth to keep herself from screaming at Sam. She heard Maddie’s light gasp. From Sam’s expression, he’d heard it, too.

  “Yeah,” Sam said, “from what I hear, the police found that cookie cutter. You know, the one the killer used to brand that actor fellow? Everybody knows all about that. No use trying to keep secrets around here. Stacey Harald should know that better than anybody.”

  Olivia knew Sam wanted to hear her beg for details, and she so wanted to deprive him of that pleasure. But she needed to know. “I hadn’t heard,” she said.

  With a disdainful snicker, Sam said, “Women. They get into a habit and don’t bother to think. Looks like Wade’s faithful ex-wife ran that cookie cutter through the dishwasher to get rid of the fingerprints and blood and all. Guess she figured that would fix everything. Silly woman. Her dishwasher didn’t quite do the job. Must be an old dishwasher.” With the exquisite timing of a born gossip, Sam nodded to them and slipped through the door to the sales floor. As he closed the door behind him, Olivia could hear his whiny chortle.

  Chapter Sixteen

  After Del’s cell phone sent Olivia to voice mail for the third time, she gave up. “Doesn’t anyone answer their phones anymore? I thought cell phones were supposed to keep us all connected twenty-four/seven.” Olivia hit a key on the kitchen laptop just to see it wake up. “I can’t get ahold of my mom or Allan, the police department sends me to 911…. How am I supposed to find out if Sam was fibbing about Stacey? I can’t believe our Stacey would try to destroy evidence.”

  “Down, girl,” Maddie said. “Stacey wouldn’t be dumb enough to put evidence through the dishwasher and leave it there for the police to find.” Maddie opened a kitchen drawer and took out her own cell. Punching in a speed-dial code, she said, “I’m trying Lucas’s cell. Drat, it went right to voice mail. Really, he should bear in mind that his bride-to-be might be desperate to reach him.”

  “Where is everybody?” Olivia plopped down on the chair at the kitchen desk. “I feel like I’m in one of those movies where everyone on earth vaporizes, and we’re the only ones left.”

  “Whoa,” Maddie said. “That sounds like something I’d say.”

  “Okay, let’s pull ourselves together,” Olivia said. “A plan. We need a plan if we’re going to save Stacey from being railroaded for murder.” Olivia pawed through the desk drawer until she found a small notebook and a pen. The pen was dry, which irritated her beyond all reason.

  “I agree, we need a plan,” Maddie said as she handed Olivia a working pen, “if only to keep you from imploding.”

  “Sorry. It’s Sam. I’m mad at myself for letting him annoy me.”

  “You aren’t alone,” Maddie said. “Remember, Sam practices his craft all day, like we practice creative cookie baking. That’s how you get good at something. Say, I don’t suppose we could make Snoopy Sam look good for Trevor’s murder?”

  “What an uplifting thought, but no. We’d only waste precious time.” Olivia flipped through her notebook until she found a clean page.

  “You could work a lot faster at the computer,” Maddie said.

  “I know, but sometimes I focus better with a pen in my hand. Plus there’s the satisfaction of ripping out a page and balling it up.”

  “I get that.” While Maddie cleaned the kitchen, Olivia wrote. When she’d finished, she tore out the page, and said, “Okay, Maddie, read through this and tell me if I’ve left anything off.”

  Maddie hitched herself up onto the kitchen counter and began to read the notes Olivia handed her.

  “These aren’t in any particular order, and I listed motives next to the names.” While Maddie read through it, Olivia continued scribbling in her notebook.

  Trevor Lane: Why did he come to Chatterley Heights? Did he kill Jennifer’s sister, Melissa? (He was questioned and released.)

  Dougie Adair works for Trevor, but doesn’t seem to like him much. He could have been Trevor’s alibi for Melissa’s murder. Why did he come to Chatterley Heights with Trevor?

  Wade Harald: Trevor and Dougie got him kicked off his high school football team, which seems to have ruined his life. His hammer killed Trevor. But he isn’t someone who plans ahead. He argued with Trevor, Dougie, and Howie in the band shell—what about?

  Howie Upton clearly hated Trevor, who picked on him in high school and beyond. Howie is a financial genius who lost everything due to accusations of insider trading. Did he know Melissa? Does he know Jennifer? Might he be helping Jennifer search for her sister’s killer?

  Jennifer Elsworth/Nortenson/Whatever: She lied about when she left Twiterton and seems to have known Trevor better than she is willing to admit. Did her move to Chatterley Heights have something to do with her sister’s death? Has she been searching online for her sister’s killer?

  Stacey in cahoots with Wade: Ignoring for the moment that a gavel cookie cutter turned up in her dishwasher, Stacey has no motive for killing Trevor. However, her loyalty to her family might be a motive for trying to help Wade by planting the murder weapon in the band shell while he was in custody. (Improbable if Stacey remained in hiding.)

  Maddie pondered a moment. “Trevor wasn’t what I’d call a likable guy. I suppose someone we don’t know might have hated him enough to follo
w him to Chatterley Heights. Maybe this stranger stayed out of sight and waited for an opportunity to kill him?”

  “That assumes Wade Harald was set up,” Olivia said, “which is possible. But a stranger would have to know that Wade had reason to hate Trevor, that Wade worked at Struts & Bolts, and which hammer was his…among other coincidences too complicated to mention.”

  “Well, if you’re going to use logic…” Maddie hopped off the kitchen counter and began to pace. “From this list, it seems to me Wade has the only real motive for the murder. Trevor ruined Wade’s chance to be a football hero, and his life has been going downhill lately.”

  “Exactly,” Olivia said. “We know very little about Trevor’s past with Dougie and Howie. Dougie has been loyal, but maybe he carries hidden resentments.”

  “And Howie seems like a guy who collects resentments,” Maddie said.

  Olivia tore another page she’d been writing on from her notebook and handed it to Maddie. “We need to do some targeted research. We don’t have much time, so efficiency is the word of the day.” She tapped the top of her pen against her cheek.

  “Livie, you are so in your element. You come up with the ideas, and then I do my thing on the computer.” Maddie pushed the start button on the dishwasher.

  “I’m thinking we’ll need to do some quick fieldwork.”

  “Goody, a trip to Chatterley Paws,” Maddie said. “You read this to me.” She handed back Olivia’s notes. “I need caffeine and sugar to nurture my brain cells.”

  While Maddie started a pot of coffee and sneaked a few cookies from the extras for the engagement party, Olivia read through her list out loud:

  What kept Dougie and Trevor linked together all these years?

  What is the real story behind Dougie’s wife’s suicide?

  Did Howie Upton have any reason to hate Trevor, aside from the fact that Trevor teased and taunted him?

  Why were Howie, Trevor, and Dougie in the band shell the night of Trevor’s murder?

  Did Trevor know that Howie was accused of insider trading?