“Chatterley Heights Police Department. Sheriff Jenkins speaking.”
It was the voice Olivia had hoped to hear. “Del, it’s me. There’s been a break-in at The Vegetable Plate. I just saw a man run through the back yard, heading north.”
“On my way,” Del said. “Can you describe the guy?”
“I only saw his back from a distance, but he looked and moved like a fairly young man. He was tall, I’d say, and slender, athletic. Dark hair. Jeans and a blue T-shirt.”
“How dark was his hair? How long was it? Was it shaggy? Neatly cut?”
Olivia closed her eyes and remembered the man’s hair lifting as he ran. “Dark brown, I’d say, not black. Professionally trimmed. It wasn’t really short, but not long and shaggy, either.”
“Nothing else?”
“Sorry.”
“Okay, I’ll send out an APB and be there as soon as possible. You stay in The Gingerbread House and I’ll come talk to you later.”
“Del, I’m—”
“I mean it, Livie. Sit this one out, okay?” The sheriff’s cell phone clicked off.
Too late for that. Olivia figured it would take Del no more than a few minutes to realize she couldn’t have seen the intruder run off if she’d been in The Gingerbread House—she didn’t have a view of Charlene’s back yard. Del would be irritated, but so be it. The two of them had been tiptoeing around each other in an almost-relationship since the previous spring, when Olivia had become embroiled in the investigation of her dear friend Clarisse’s death. She knew his concern for her was real, but could she help it if crime popped up right next door?
On her way back through The Vegetable Plate kitchen, Olivia left cabinet doors hanging and tried to avoid the broken glass. She’d already tampered enough with the scene, though for a good cause. She didn’t envy Charlene having to clean up the mess. Maybe she and Maddie could lend a hand; it might improve their relationship with her.
“OH. MY. GOD.” Charlene’s voice, petulant at the best of times, punched the air with such force that Olivia stepped backward. She crunched a pile of glass shards loud enough to be heard through the closed kitchen door. “What was that?” Charlene shrieked. “Oh my god, he’s still here.”
“Knock it off, Charlene, it’s probably Livie.” The swinging door opened, and Maddie appeared. “Wow.” She took in the emptied cupboards and broken glass. “Who won?”
Charlene pushed past Maddie. “Oh my God, did you make this mess?”
“Of course not.” Olivia glanced down at her feet, planted amid the remains of what might have been pricey water goblets. “I thought I saw an intruder in your store, and I came over to investigate. He was going through your cupboards, so I assume he’s also the one who tossed your glassware on the floor.” She heard the irritation in her own voice and banished all thought of helping Charlene with the cleanup.
“Well, you certainly didn’t try to save anything, did you. And my ‘glassware’ was crystal. Do you have any idea how much those goblets were worth? No, of course you don’t.”
It was common knowledge that Olivia had recently inherited an enviable sum of money, at least for the average person, plus an even more enviable collection of vintage cookie cutters, so it struck her that Charlene’s family must be quite well off. Perhaps the man who broke into The Vegetable Plate was aware of that.
“Hey,” Maddie said. “You have no right to talk to Livie that way. She was trying to help, not that you care.”
“Well, it looks to me like she made things worse by interfering.”
“In fact,” Olivia said, “I was able to call the sheriff and give him a partial description of the intruder, as well as his direction when he took off. He was tall and slender with dark brown hair. Does that sound like anyone you know?”
As always, Charlene had applied her makeup with skill and attention to detail, but it couldn’t hide a sudden shift in her emotions. She hugged her arms around her slender rib cage and dug her manicured fingernails into the bare flesh of her upper arms.
“Charlene? You know who did this, don’t you?” Olivia pointed toward the piles of glass, sparkling as they caught the overhead light. “Was that man looking for something in particular? Because he didn’t have to trash your belongings. That was done with anger. It was personal.” She reached toward Charlene’s shoulder.
Charlene pulled back. “I don’t know anyone who would do this to me.” She lifted her chin. “At least, not a man. A jealous woman, maybe, but not a man. Anyway, I don’t believe you really saw anyone. You were probably hallucinating. A sugar high will do that.”
With a derisive snort, Maddie said, “Hah! And what were you on when you threw those stupid flyers all over our lawn?”
“Are you deaf? I told you a hundred times on the way over, I did not throw those flyers on your silly lawn. Although whoever did it deserves a medal.”
Maddie’s freckled cheeks flushed. “What the heck is that supposed to mean?”
“You know perfectly well you are killing innocent people with all that sugar you’re stuffing down their throats. You should be arrested.”
“Well, at least our customers actually enjoy what we offer. All you do is manipulate people with fear and guilt.”
“Murderer!”
“Zealot!”
“Go to your rooms, both of you!” Maddie and Charlene turned to stare at Olivia, who had stunned them and herself by shouting.
“Is that you, Livie?” Sheriff Del Jenkins called from inside the store. Moments later, he appeared at the kitchen door, showing no sign that he had heard a squabble. With a grim smile at Olivia, Del said, “Why am I not surprised to find you still here.” When no one spoke, he added, “Charlene, Maddie, any chance I can get past you and into the kitchen, so I can do my job?”
“Sorry,” Maddie said. “Of course you can. We were about to call a truce and break for coffee. Want some?”
“Tea,” Charlene said. “Coffee is bad for the blood pressure. I only drink herbal tea. No sugar, of course.”
Olivia shot a warning glance in Maddie’s direction. Aside from a surreptitious rolling of her eyes, Maddie allowed Charlene’s insistence on sugarless tea to go unchallenged.
As for Charlene, the fight had gone out of her. Her shoulders slumped as she glanced into her ruined kitchen. “I guess we’ll have to use the little microwave I keep in the store to make tea. I’ll get some water from the bathroom.”
Once Charlene was out of sight, Maddie said, “I’ll go to The Gingerbread House and grab some coffee for us. Won’t take long. Maybe I’ll bring some cookies.”
Watching Maddie’s retreating back, Olivia said to Del, “I’m afraid I had to run through the kitchen to see the intruder, but otherwise I don’t think I touched anything. The door to the back yard was already open.”
“What’s with all that paper I saw on your lawn?” Del asked as he surveyed the damage in Charlene’s kitchen. “I have to admit, I picked one up and read it. Looked like something Ms. Critch might write.”
“Charlene didn’t deny writing the notice, but she insists she didn’t throw all those copies on our property,” Olivia said. “And no, I did not race over here in a rage and destroy Charlene’s store for revenge.”
“I wasn’t implying that you did,” Del said with the faintest hint of a smile. “You seemed to be the only one not in a rage.”
Maddie rolled the trash can onto the lawn and began to toss paper basketballs.
“I suppose we should be recycling all this paper,” Olivia said.
“Or we could borrow a super-sized fan from the hardware and blow the stuff onto Charlene’s lawn. This humidity adds some real heft. It would be a shame to waste such an opportunity.” Maddie sank an overhead ball into the can. “Nailed it,” she said. “After I left, what did Del have to say about the break-in? Any suspects?”
“Not that he mentioned. At least he doesn’t seem to suspect us. However, in future you might want to control your irritation with Charlene, in p
ublic anyway. You did sound as if you’d happily thrash her with a ten-pound bag of sugar.”
“Oh that,” Maddie said with a dismissive laugh. “Del knows I’m harmless.”
Olivia found a tissue in the pocket of her shorts and used it to blot perspiration from her forehead. “This qualifies as aerobic activity,” she said, “for which it is way too hot. We need a rake.”
“I’ll pick one up from the hardware when I meet Lucas for lunch.” Maddie’s still newish love, Lucas Ashford, was the quiet and, to use Maddie’s description, yummy owner of the Heights Hardware. “Although it won’t be much use until the next time Charlene decides to decorate our lawn in her own special way. Why would you worry that Del would suspect us of trashing The Vegetable Pile?”
“The Vegetable Plate. As if you didn’t know.”
“Slip of the tongue.”
Olivia scooped up a paper. “The content of this flyer might look to some folks like a motive.”
“Point taken. It’s clear as day Charlene wrote these, and I could cheerfully stuff them down her throat.” With fists planted on her curvy hips and curls spiraling wildly, Maddie did resemble an avenging goddess. “If I were that sort of person,” she added. “Which I am not.”
Olivia dumped a load into the can and dried her arms on her shorts. “What do we really know about Charlene?”
“Not much from my end,” Maddie said. “I asked my aunt Sadie if she remembered anything about the Critch family. She thought they’d lived a few miles out of Chatterley Heights years ago and moved away when Charlene was little. She might have been thinking of another family, though. I don’t remember Charlene at all, but she is a bit younger than we are. Hence her juvenile behavior.”
“She’s somewhere around twenty-five,” Olivia said, “which would make her six or seven years younger than we are and a couple years younger than Jason.”
“Your brother is more mature than Charlene, which isn’t saying a lot,” Maddie said. “No offense meant.”
“None taken.”
“Here’s what I don’t get,” Maddie said. “Why would Charlene think it was such a good idea to dump a truckload of crinkled-up flyers on the dew-soaked lawn of The Gingerbread House? What does she get out of it?”
“I don’t think Charlene did this. I suspect it might have something to do with the man I saw running from her store.”
“The man who, according to Charlene, is a figment of your sugar-addled imagination?”
“Which made me very curious,” Olivia said. A lock of damp auburn hair fell across her forehead, and she blew it away from her eyes. “Why would Charlene deny the existence of someone who had vandalized her beloved store? She tried to blame us, but that didn’t go anywhere. I doubt she believed it herself.”
Curiosity sparked in Maddie’s green eyes. “Maybe she’s being stalked. If she knows her stalker, why wouldn’t she say so?”
“I don’t know about the stalking part, but she certainly clammed up at my description of the man I saw running from her kitchen. I’ll bet you a gingerbread cookie cutter family that she knows who it was but doesn’t want his identity revealed. Maybe it’s someone she cares about. Which is why we should learn more about Charlene Critch.”
“You can’t kid me, Livie Greyson. You are seriously addicted to mysteries. Don’t think I haven’t noticed the Agatha Christies you keep taking out of the library. Don’t get me wrong, I grew up with Nancy Drew, but you’ll have to unearth Charlene’s secrets by yourself. The less I know about her, the happier I’ll be.”
“I’ll grant she can be irritating, but why do you dislike her so much?”
Maddie scooped up some papers, balled them together, and smashed them into the full trash can. “Because Charlene is skinny and blonde and her hair always behaves no matter what the humidity.”
With a puzzled frown, Olivia said, “But you are curvy and have red hair with personality. What’s the problem?”
Maddie kicked at one of the few remaining wads of paper. “I guess it’s what Heather Irwin said to me last week. I stopped in at the library to talk about the cookies for Gwen and Herbie’s baby shower—did you know that Heather is organizing it? Anyway, Heather dragged me into her office to talk about some things Charlene had said while she was checking out a few books. She doesn’t like Charlene any better than I do, maybe even less.”
“Charlene reads library books?” Olivia’s question came out sarcastic, and Maddie grinned. In fact, Olivia was wondering why Charlene, with her vast and expensive wardrobe, didn’t buy her own books.
“Good question,” Maddie said. “Heather said they were mostly romances and some bogus reference book about poisons in the foods we eat. Anyway, if I may continue, Heather told me that Charlene asked a bunch of personal questions about Lucas and me. Like, are we really, really a couple? Why hasn’t Lucas ever married? He’s so attractive, is he afraid of commitment? And aren’t I running out of time to have kids? Not that I’m insecure.”
“Not since the seventh grade,” Olivia said. “Charlene, on the other hand, screams insecurity.”
Maddie brightened. “You always know the right thing to say. Anyway, it might be fun to watch her try to flirt with Lucas. He doesn’t know what the word means. Lord knows I wasted years getting nowhere with him, until I gave up and started treating him like the guy next door. Which he is. That’s when he finally noticed me.”
“That plus the scent of your baking as it drifted over to his hardware store. Never underestimate the power of decorated cookies.” Olivia didn’t add that once Lucas became interested in her, Maddie reverted, for a time, to middle-school-crush mode. That period was best forgotten.
With a sideways leap, Maddie disposed of the final paper ball. “Enough about Charlene. There is cookie dough in the fridge, and it’s calling out to me.”
Between them, they hauled the trash can back to its space in the alley behind The Gingerbread House. “Let’s go in the front,” Olivia said. “I left poor Spunky locked in the foyer.”
They rounded the corner and found Sheriff Del standing at the door, frowning as he listened to Spunky’s frantic barking. He relaxed when he saw them. “I was getting worried,” Del said. “I wondered if you’d gotten knocked on your heads when you returned from The Vegetable Plate.”
Olivia grinned. “Do you suspect crime behind every door?”
“Occupational hazard. Especially when you’re around.”
“Ouch.”
“I see you got the lawn back to normal,” Del said. “By the way, Charlene steadfastly denies any responsibility for those flyers. She insists you two set the whole thing up, including the break-in, so you could scare her off.”
Maddie snorted. “Frankly, she isn’t worth the trouble.”
Olivia unlocked the front door, triggering an explosion of vicious barking from inside.
“Hush, Spunky, it’s me. Want some coffee, Del? We were about to reward our clean-up work with a flurry of cookie construction. Besides, I have a few questions to ask you.”
“I knew there’d be a catch,” Del said. “Thanks, but I need to get back to the station. I only stopped by to let you know we have a suspect for the break-in. We need to check his alibi, then we’ll be in touch about your identification.”
“But I only saw his—”
“You saw his back as he ran off, I know, but it’s worth a try. I’m tracking down some information, so I should be able to fill you in tomorrow. You’re still closed on Mondays, right? Great. Meanwhile, keep your doors locked.” Del left before Olivia could ask who the suspect was.
Chapter Two
The small kitchen at the back of The Gingerbread House had acquired two new items since Olivia received her inheritance: a window air conditioner and a new freezer, which hummed with state-of-the-art efficiency next to the bruised old refrigerator. Without good air conditioning, August in eastern Maryland was not conducive to long, happy hours of cookie baking and decorating. Olivia preferred feeling connected with the o
utdoors, but not when the heat and humidity made her feel like a boiled potato. Besides, she’d told herself, controlled humidity was better for consistent cookie quality.
Olivia loved Mondays, when the store remained closed. She and Maddie could catch up on business chores and get a jump on preparing the various cookies they would need for the coming week. Now that they could afford to hire some help in the store, they’d begun to supply special-order cookies for private parties, in addition to their themed store events.
“Ready to roll,” Maddie said. “If I can find my trusty rolling pin.”
Olivia looked up from her paperwork. “Cupboard next to the sink, second shelf from the top.”
“How’d it get there? I swear, Livie, you hide things on purpose so you can torture me.”
Olivia reached into a drawer and tossed Maddie a clean towel to wipe the dough off her hands. “Nonsense,” she said. “You are the resident genius, and I am merely your short-term memory.”
“Did you remember to get more flour? This dough is a tad sticky.”
“Top shelf, next to the sugar. Are you starting on the cookies for the Tucker baby shower this week?
“Um, sure, that’s on the agenda.”
Something in Maddie’s tone made Olivia suspicious. “That event is special to me. If it weren’t for Gwen and Herbie’s contacts with animal rescue groups, I wouldn’t have found Spunky.” At the sound of his name, the little Yorkie lifted his head a few inches from his blanket, then dropped back to sleep. “The lazy bum.”
Maddie studied a package of meringue powder as if she’d never seen one before. “I’m making an extra batch of dough to try out some ideas. Anyway, I mixed two batches yesterday, and they’re rolled and chilling in the fridge, so there’ll be plenty to work with. Don’t fuss, Livie, all will be well. Don’t you have errands to run or something?”
“I thought I’d—” A knock on the alley door interrupted her. “Are you expecting Lucas?”
“Not really,” Maddie said as she opened the door. “Hi, Del, what’s up?”
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