Charlene began to arrange the cut-out sandwiches one by one on the glass plate. “These are pretty,” she said, resting a lettuce shape against the curve of a banana. “Did Maddie make them?”
“I made them.”
“Oh.” Charlene picked up a radish-shaped sandwich and nibbled on the top leaves. “This really has radish in it.”
“I do my best,” Olivia said. This isn’t the time to scream, she told her frantic, impatient self.
Charlene finished her radish sandwich and met Olivia’s eyes. “Well? What do you need from me?”
“Me, too,” Charlie said as he tossed an entire tomato-shaped sandwich into his mouth.
“Thank you both, for Jason’s sake. Now just so I know, am I right, Charlene, that it was Geoffrey King who threw all those flyers on The Gingerbread House’s lawn last Sunday morning?”
Charlene’s tight mouth loosened into a sneer. “Oh yeah, that would be Geoff’s work. I bet he was real pleased with himself, making me look like a jerk. He knew I wouldn’t give him away. That would mean admitting he’d ever been a part of my life.”
“Why would he do such an odd thing?”
Charlene picked up a celery-shaped sandwich and picked at the bread. A small pile of bread pellets formed on the table. “Geoff was all about showing how much smarter he was than everyone else in the entire world. He threw my leaflets on your lawn to get me in trouble with my neighbors—and to show me he could get to me anytime he wanted.” With a smug smile, Charlene added, “Except he was dumb enough to look out the window to watch you and Maddie clean up. The sheriff showed me that picture Binnie took.”
“You still didn’t identify him, though?”
“It would have made things worse for me.” Charlene shot a quick glance at her brother. Olivia saw the worry in her eyes and wondered who she was really protecting by keeping silent.
“I can understand that,” Olivia said. “Just a few more questions. I’m still confused about where you two and Jason were on Tuesday night. The police don’t confide in me, but I think there are other suspects. It’s in your best interests to be open about your whereabouts at the time of the murder.”
Charlene examined her pale rose nails for flaws. “What suspects?”
“Well, I heard you had a run-in with Geoffrey King about a loan shark that was after him.”
“Who said that?”
Olivia shrugged. “Is it true?”
Charlene relaxed against the back of her chair. “You already know the answer, so why ask? Yeah, I held Geoff at bay with one of my vegetable knives, but that doesn’t mean I used one of them to stab him.”
“I never suggested you did, but I don’t believe you’ve been truthful about where you were that night.”
“I am not a liar.” Charlene’s denial lost points for its whiny tone.
Olivia turned her attention to Charlie. “You stayed in the store all night to protect your sister, didn’t you? You wouldn’t have left her there alone, not when King had threatened to burn it down. Also, I happen to know you had nowhere else to go. You’d lost your room.”
Charlie slumped back and stared at the ceiling. “Charlene told me to say I’d gone home.” He patted his sister’s arm. “It’s okay, Sis. I’m so sick of lying and hiding all the time. See, Charlene figured if she got accused of killing Geoff she could claim self-defense. But I’d had a lot of run-ins with him. I even threatened to kill him for hurting my sister. The worst is, Geoff was . . . well, he was blackmailing me. He was taking my monthly trust money and most of my salary, and he wanted more. I wanted to kill him, I really did. But it wasn’t me.”
“What was he blackmailing you for?”
“That’s none of your business.” Charlene bolted to her feet. “I want you to leave. Now.”
“No, Sis, it’s all right.” Charlie reached for her wrist. “Let’s get this over with.” Once she’d sat down, he said, “I have a juvie record for stealing cars. It’s supposed to be sealed, but somehow Geoff got hold of a copy and threatened to show it to Struts. I’d have lost my job, and I’d never be able to work in a garage again. I love working with cars more than anything. I don’t know how he got those records, but he did.”
Charlene snorted in a less-than-ladylike way. “He probably sweet-talked some idiot of a clerk, and she fell for it.”
“That all makes sense.” Olivia hoped she sounded reassuring. “So then . . . are you saying Charlene left the store that night before you did?”
“No!” Charlene nudged closer to her brother. “The truth is, neither of us left. We both stayed all night like we planned . . . to protect the store from Geoff. That man was evil. He was more than capable of burning down my lovely Vegetable Plate, even with me in it.” Charlene’s hands flew toward the serving plate and scooped up four sandwiches. She cradled two in each hand as if they gave her comfort.
“Did you stay together?” Olivia asked. “In the store, I mean.”
“Yes,” Charlene said.
“No.” Charlie wove his fingers through his loose brown curls. “I know it doesn’t look good, Sis, but you’ve got to stop lying to protect me.” He leaned toward Olivia, elbows on the table, eyes beseeching. “Charlene slept upstairs. She has a cot up there. That’s where I’ve been sleeping since I lost my room. That night I stayed downstairs and kept watch, and Charlene didn’t come downstairs all night. I could have sneaked out and killed Geoff, but I swear I didn’t.”
“Are you saying you didn’t see or hear anything while King was being killed?
The plate of sandwiches rattled as Charlene’s small fist hit the table. “My brother has answered enough of your questions. We only wanted to protect my store. Charlie didn’t need to hurt Geoff.”
“Why?”
“For the same reason I didn’t—I could have sent Geoff to jail anytime I wanted to. It would have been . . . well, messy, but I’d have done it. The last time Geoff hit me, I told him I’d had it. I said if he didn’t go away and leave us alone, I’d tell the police what I knew about him.” Charlene’s lower lip trembled.
“Tell the police what?” Olivia’s voice betrayed the desperation she felt. “What did you have on King? That’s what he was searching for when I caught him in your kitchen, wasn’t it?”
Charlene bolted to her feet and sent her chair teetering backward. Charlie caught it before it fell. “I need to check on my salesclerks,” Charlene said. “We’re done here.” She clutched Charlie’s upper arm and dragged him out of his chair.
Olivia, however, wasn’t finished. She followed the Critch siblings through the kitchen door and into the store. Charlene conferred with two young female clerks, ignoring Olivia as she roamed the sales floor. She knew what she was looking for—the missing cookie cutters Bertha reported seeing in Charlene’s hands. With luck, they might be on display.
The cookbook section seemed a good place to start. Cookie cutters make lovely shelf decorations. Olivia struck out there, so she checked the lamps scattered about. No cutters hung from the pull cords. Next she searched the store for the sparkle and shine of slicing gadgets, a logical place to exhibit cookie cutters. She located the display in a sunny spot near the cash register, along with two clerks, a customer, and Charlene.
An eager clerk offered to help her find the perfect slicing tool for any need, but Olivia waved her off with “Just looking.” For my own property. . . . And there they were, the cutters missing from The Gingerbread House. She had to admit they lent a touch of artistic gaiety to the jumble of knives, vegetable peelers, garlic crushers, and other slicing paraphernalia. She almost hated to claim them back.
Olivia counted six cookie cutters: a carrot and an apple, hanging from two jars filled with various types of peelers; a sailboat next to a fish-boning knife; a party dress looped over several lemon zesters; a teapot next to the zesters; and a star above the entire display. Olivia stepped back and surveyed the entire section. There was no vintage tin cutter in the shape of a classic Duesenberg.
“Why do you look shocked?”
Olivia spun around toward Charlene’s voice “Did I look shocked?”
“Cookie cutters don’t have to be linked with sugar. I thought of that before you brought those little vegetable sandwiches.”
“I can see that,” Olivia said. “I wasn’t shocked, I just didn’t remember you buying any cookie cutters.”
Charlene cocked a perfectly shaped eyebrow at her. “Oh, I didn’t buy these cookie cutters. Charlie bought them for me.” Charlene’s expression softened as she reached out to touch the sailboat cutter. “When we were kids, Charlie and I used to take the family sailboat out on the lake at our vacation home. We’d spend hours drifting around, pretending we were explorers. Each of these shapes means something special to me. Charlie knows that. He can be a sweet brother sometimes.”
“Yeah” Olivia said. “I’ve got one of those, too.”
Charlene briefly met Olivia’s eyes and said, “Jason is a good guy. I hope he gets cleared.”
“Me, too.” Olivia did not say aloud that Charlie almost certainly stole the cookie cutters from The Gingerbread House. She suspected he’d taken the Duesenberg cutter, too. Had he given it to Jason? Did the cutter fall out of Charlie’s or Jason’s pocket during a struggle with Geoffrey King? If so, the Duesenberg might have been King’s dying attempt to identify his killer . . . and one sister was about to lose a baby brother.
Chapter Twenty
Olivia walked the short distance back from The Vegetable Plate with ideas tumbling around in her head like cookie cutter mobiles in a windstorm. Each one tantalized her, but she couldn’t decide which to grab. Charlene Critch clearly hated her ex-husband enough to kill him, especially since he persistently threatened, blackmailed, and stole from both her and her beloved brother. Moreover, Olivia now knew that Charlie Critch had stolen at least six of the seven cookie cutters missing from The Gingerbread House. Olivia was willing to bet he’d also stolen the Duesenberg cutter found in Geoffrey King’s dead hand. Had he meant to give the cutter to Jason, who had wanted it so much? Did he, in fact, give the Duesenberg to Olivia’s brother before King’s murder?
Heather Irwin seemed genuinely contrite about nearly running Olivia down with her truck. She claimed that King struck her because she’d confronted him about stealing from her, which sounded in character for him. On the surface, Heather appeared shy and quiet. Underneath, she was smart, determined, and gutsy. She did her homework and planned ahead, all useful characteristics for someone bent on revenge.
Heather had revealed one intriguing bit of information. It seemed that Geoffrey King was drawn to knives, and he made a habit of aiming for the faces of his victims. King himself died from a knife wound. Valentina Larssen’s lovely face was disfigured as the result of a knife wound. Maybe King had threatened to slash her other cheek as well. If Ida’s recollection was correct, Valentina had a violent, nighttime encounter with King in the park—and a very protective father. All of which might be no more than a string of coincidences . . . but something to keep in mind.
“Were you planning to come inside sometime today?” Maddie’s question reached Olivia through an open side window in The Gingerbread House. “You’ve been standing out there forever, lost in thought.”
“Have I? Sorry.” When Olivia focused on Maddie’s face, she realized something was wrong. Maddie’s freckles looked darker than usual against the pallor of her skin.
“We sort of need you in here,” Maddie said. “Desperately.”
“What’s happened? Is it Jason?”
“Only indirectly,” Maddie said. “Come see for yourself. I’ll meet you around back.”
When Olivia arrived at the alley entrance, Maddie stood waiting in the open doorway. She locked the door behind them. Without a word, Maddie opened the kitchen laptop.
“I have a very, very bad feeling about this,” Olivia said, recognizing Binnie Sloan’s blog spot on the screen.
“You’ll feel worse after you read it,” Maddie said. “At least there aren’t any pictures.” The kitchen phone rang. “That’ll be doom calling,” Maddie said as she reached for the receiver. “I’ll negotiate our execution date. You read.”
Olivia took a couple deep breaths and read:
Our intrepid girl sleuths, Olivia Greyson and Maddie Briggs, are at it again. With her brother, Jason, in stir on a murder rap, Olivia has resorted to breaking the law herself to dig up (or conjure up?) evidence to clear him. Our paper, the weekly Chatter, has received an exclusive eyewitness report that Olivia and Maddie broke into the Chatterley Heights Dance Studio early this morning, while our handsome and mysterious Latin dance teacher, Raoul, prayed at St. Francis Catholic Church. Were the inseparable girl detectives looking for evidence . . . or were they planting it? We suspect they read too many Bobbsey Twins books as gullible children. Since Olivia returned to Chatterley Heights after years of big-city living, she has found herself mired in crime more than the average shop owner. So we have to wonder... What next? Check out the Weekly Chatter’s daily blog entries to keep up with the antics of our very own Nancy Drew and her sidekick, George. We welcome information and pay for photos.
As Olivia read through the piece again, her anxiety began to fade. She had an idea, or at least a crumb of an idea. She closed her eyes to let her mind chew on it for a while.
“How can you nap at a time like this?” Maddie flopped into a chair, ignoring the ringing phone. “I’ve answered four calls already. I’m going to tear that phone out of the wall in a minute.” Binnie’s blog entry was still on the laptop screen. Maddie snapped the lid closed to hide it. “Livie Greyson, we’re about to get sent up the river with your brother, and you . . . you are smiling. Explain yourself.”
Olivia lifted the laptop lid and pointed to the screen. “This piece of journalistic tripe is probably libelous,” she said, “but it couldn’t be more perfect for us.” The phone began ringing again. “This could save us a lot of time.”
“Or waste it.” Maddie jumped up, took the ringing phone off the hook, and hung it up. Before it could ring again, she dropped the receiver on the table. “I learned about this so quickly because one of Lucas’s employees is hooked on that blog. She was checking it on her cell phone when that entry showed up. How does Binnie get away with this?”
Olivia got up and put the phone back on the hook. “I’ll deal with the calls in here. You keep track of your cell phone messages,” she said. “All part of the plan.”
“What plan?” Maddie was approaching hysteria.
The phone rang, and Olivia answered at once.
A strong, firm voice said, “Livie, it’s Constance Overton. Thought I’d give you a heads-up. I called the sheriff and told him there was no break-in, that I’d given you a key to the dance studio to check something out for me. He sounded quizzical until I played the wheelchair card—you know, poor me, can’t climb stairs and so on. I’ll let you know later how many dozen cookies you owe me.”
“It’s worth every pound of butter,” Olivia said. “Besides, it’ll be fun to watch you plump up.”
“Won’t happen,” Constance said. “My metabolism still thinks I play basketball. Good luck with whatever it is you and Maddie have gotten yourselves into this time. By the way, when do I get my key back?”
“If you can wait till tomorrow, I’ll deliver it with cookies,” Olivia said.
“Agreed.”
Olivia hung up and turned to Maddie, who was sucking on her lower lip and checking her messages. “Constance cleared us of breaking-and-entering charges,” Olivia said. “We owe her big time. And speaking of cookies, how many ballet ones do we have?”
“At least six dozen, maybe more,” Maddie said. “As you can see, I’ve been working off my jitters.” She waved her hand around the kitchen. Olivia had been so involved with immediate crises that she hadn’t noticed the piles of dirty baking pans and utensils. Maddie opened the refrigerator door to reveal stacks of covered cake pans. “I’m trying to get the icing to harden more
quickly,” she said.
“Excellent,” Olivia said. “Put half of them around the sales floor as soon as you remind me how to post a response to Binnie’s blog. Oh, and would you ask Mom to come talk to me as soon as she can free herself from customers?”
“How about you tell me what’s going on here.” The color was returning to Maddie’s cheeks.
“Fair enough,” Olivia said. “We’re having a celebration right after closing tonight. A few select guests will be invited. I’ve asked Del to bring Jason here, but we’ll do this even if he refuses. I’m pretty sure that whoever killed Geoffrey King will be among our guests.”
“What’s to stop them from simply leaving town and disappearing?”
“After Binnie’s latest blog entry? That would be like painting ‘I’m guilty’ on their back. I think it’s more likely the killer might try to throw suspicion onto someone else.”
“Okay, I’m game. Let me get you started on that blog entry. Hit Binnie between the eyes for me.” Maddie opened the laptop and showed Olivia how to post a response. “Whatever you say, it’ll be around town in minutes. Everyone is glued to this blog. Look, two new posts just appeared.” She skimmed the entries. “Great, some high school kid is accusing his former physics teacher of the ‘town square massacre.’ Sounds like somebody should have studied for his physics final.” Maddie stood up. “All yours.” She arranged a tray of ballet cookies and headed to the sales floor.
Olivia’s post to Binnie’s blog was simple. She announced that Jason had been released due to new evidence gathered by the police, who expected to make an arrest very soon. The Gingerbread House, she said, would offer decorated ballerina cookies to well-wishers until closing at six p.m.
“Are you interruptible, Livie?” Ellie’s gentle face appeared around the edge of the kitchen door. “Maddie seems to think you have a plan that includes me. If it involves saving Jason, I will do anything.”
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