A Cookie Before Dying accsm-2

by Virginia Lowell

  Valentina shook her head slowly. “That isn’t what he said. I’m supposed to go back to the hospital. He said to pack a suitcase and someone would pick me up.”

  “Okay.” Olivia thought frantically, aware that Valentina could outrun her. “Yes, the hospital in DC. I can take you there.”

  Valentina took several quick, light steps backward. “No, a taxi will take me. Daddy planned it.” She turned and ran into the office.

  Olivia followed and was relieved to find that Valentina was gazing out the window into the dark alley. Maybe she was hoping her father would appear.

  “I can call a taxi, if you’d like,” Olivia said, taking her cell phone from her jeans pocket. “I’ll do it right now.”

  “No!” Valentina spun around. Her eyes widened as she saw the cell phone. “You’re going to call someone to take me away from Daddy. He warned me. No phone!”

  “All right, it’s okay.” Olivia placed the cell on the countertop. “See? I won’t call anyone.”

  Olivia barely had time to register her movements before Valentina had snatched the cell and fled up the staircase. Runs with Spunky had strengthened Olivia’s legs, but not enough to keep up with a ballerina. The hallway was empty when she reached the second floor. She headed toward the light streaming through the open door of Valentina’s room and found her sitting cross-legged on her bed. Next to her lay a packed suitcase. “Daddy isn’t coming back, is he?” she asked.

  “I . . . I don’t know,” Olivia said.

  “Daddy always tried to keep me safe,” Valentina said. “He made a plan to protect me, but his plans don’t always work. So sometimes I have to make my own.”

  As Valentina unfolded her legs to stand up, Olivia thought of a bluebell opening to the sun. And then she cursed herself for being distracted by the girl’s gracefulness. In a blur, Valentina had slipped out of the room and slammed the door shut. Olivia heard the slide of the chain lock on the outside of the door. She was trapped inside, and Valentina had her cell phone. Olivia spun around, looking for a phone. There was none. She tried the window and found it painted shut. She began to pound on the door, for all the good that would do.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Olivia saw Valentina’s bedside table. The bottle of pills, nearly full when she had examined it the day before, now lay on its side, empty. A half-full glass of water stood next to it.

  Olivia paced the room, trying to focus her mind. How long before Valentina succumbed to an overdose? Would it be fatal? Out of frustration and desperation, Olivia kicked the door. And then she stopped, remembering Valentina’s words, her apparent frailness, how she fought back when King attacked her in the park.... So sometimes I have to make my own.

  Valentina’s suitcase lay on the bed, closed but, as Olivia discovered, not locked. She dumped its contents and pawed through them. Costumes. Valentina had packed a selection of her mother’s ballerina costumes but nothing else. Olivia’s hands shook as she examined the costumes one by one. She came to one that was rolled up, not lovingly folded. Olivia spread the costume on the bed. It was a white, knee-length skirt of fine, lightweight satin sewn to the waistband of a white leotard. The bodice and arms of the leotard and the front of the skirt were badly stained with browned dried blood. There had been no attempt to wash off the blood, almost as if Valentina wanted to preserve the memory of stabbing Geoffrey King. If Valentina truly felt no guilt, Olivia could think of only one reason she would have left the evidence for others to find. To clear her father.

  Olivia heard pounding from outside the bedroom window. It sounded like someone trying to get in the front door. She grabbed one of Valentina’s toe shoes from her closet and slammed the wooden toe against the window. The pane began to crack. Thank goodness for old window glass. At least she made enough noise to get Del’s attention; he was standing on the sidewalk, shouting up at her. He waved an object in the air and pointed toward the front door. Olivia giggled when she realized he was wielding a baseball bat. She moved Valentina’s bloodstained clothing to her sewing machine table and sat on the bed to wait.

  In short order, Olivia heard the chain lock slide open, and the bedroom door opened.

  “Valentina,” Olivia said, as soon as she saw Del. “She took pills. Did you find her?”

  “In the kitchen, groggy but still conscious. The ambulance is on its way. In fact, I hear it now.”

  “How on earth did you know I was here?”

  “Logic, my dear Greyson,” Del said. “Plus Maddie and Spunky.”

  “Spunky?”

  “It’ll wait till morning. Seven a.m. at The Chatterley Café with Maddie and Lucas. Cody and I will let them know you’re okay. You need to get some sleep, you looked exhausted.”

  Olivia’s muscles did feel weak and wobbly, and somehow she fell into Del’s arms.

  “Always wanted to rescue a damsel in distress,” Del whispered, his face buried in her hair.

  “Was the baseball bat part of your fantasy?” Olivia asked, pulling back to look at his face.

  Del laughed. “Well, no, I usually imagined using my bare hands, but after watching your ex-husband yesterday evening, I decided to go with something tougher.”

  Olivia, Maddie, Del, and Lucas were first in line when The Chatterley Café opened Saturday morning. Olivia felt surprisingly chipper after her harrowing experience and only four hours of sleep. Her sleep had been all the better for knowing that Jason was safe in his childhood bedroom, being watched over and, even more important, fed by Ellie. Olivia had to admit that Charlene was being attentive to Jason, bringing him vegie burgers and fresh fruit to help him regain his strength. Jason seemed to welcome both the food and the attention.

  “Spunky should be here,” Maddie said when they’d been seated. “If it wasn’t for him, Livie might have spent the night locked in that poor girl’s bedroom while she was dying in the kitchen.”

  “Hey, I am perfectly capable of kicking down a door when necessary,” Olivia said. “However, I have a new appreciation for Spunky’s escape artistry. He did take unfair advantage of my distraction last night, though, hiding behind my apartment door when I went back for my cell and then following me into the store while I boxed cookies. He needs a stern lecture.”

  “And extra treats,” Del said. “I sure appreciate the little guy.”

  “I helped, too, you know,” Maddie said as their breakfasts arrived. “Ooh, fresh-squeezed orange juice. I couldn’t settle down to sleep, so I decided to do some baking. I’m the one who called Del when I found Spunky running around the store and Livie nowhere in sight.”

  “How did you find me?” Olivia asked as she lifted a forkful of egg and sausage omelette.

  “That was me,” Del said. “I just had a feeling you weren’t done investigating, so when Maddie said your car was gone, I sent out an alert and started checking in town. When I didn’t find your car near any of your known haunts, I just drove up and down the streets. Chatterley Heights isn’t that big. Once I saw you’d parked near the dance studio, I figured something was up.”

  “Poor Valentina,” Maddie said.

  “Poor Raoul.” Olivia speared a roasted potato and paused to admire it. “I assume he has been released?”

  Del nodded. “But he insists on staying with his daughter in her cell. He feels responsible. If he’d realized sooner that Valentina was sneaking out, maybe he could have prevented the whole incident. If King hadn’t been able to threaten Valentina, she wouldn’t have gotten the knife away from him and used it to stab him.”

  “What will happen to her?”

  “I don’t know, Livie, but I suspect the courts will be lenient with her, even though she hid her responsibility for King’s death. Since the case became public, several women in the Baltimore-DC area have come forward with allegations that King abused and stole from them. If their stories can be corroborated, Valentina might be able to plead self-defense. My guess is she will end up back in the hospital.”

  “She lives to dance . . .” Olivia murmured.
“Raoul said that last evening, about Valentina. Not being able to dance freely might feel like execution to her.”

  “There’s always dance therapy,” Maddie said. “So Lucas, are you going to eat that slice of bacon?”

  As Maddie reached toward Lucas’s plate, Olivia caught a glimpse of green sparkle. “Hey, what’s that?” She grabbed Maddie’s hand. “Is that an emerald?”

  With a light laugh, Maddie said, “Wow, you’re good. What gave it away, the green part? It matches my eyes. At least that’s what Lucas told me.”

  Olivia noted her friend’s sudden flush and said, “It isn’t fair to torture me, I’ve had a rough night. Is this or is this not an engagement ring?”

  “Not,” Maddie said. “But close. It’s an I-promise-to-think-about-it ring. Lucas and I had a long talk last night. He’s a good listener. I’m going to work on the . . . the thing we talked about, Livie.”

  “I know this is none of my business,” Del said, “although Livie did involve me a bit. Maddie, about your parents’ accident.”

  Maddie’s eyes flitted from Del to Olivia and back to Del, but she didn’t explode. Or run away. “What about it?”

  “It really was just an accident,” Del said gently. “Cody and I did some digging. There was no alcohol, no drugs of any kind in their systems. Your aunt didn’t tell you anything about this because she thought that was best. Your mom was being treated for depression related to early menopause. The pills made her feel worse, so she stopped them and began feeling much better. When your dad realized how unhappy she was, he cut back on his work to be with her. The accident . . . There was one witness, who wasn’t quoted in any of the published reports. I don’t know why, maybe because she was elderly. She said that a cat crossed the road in front of your parents’ car, and your mother swerved to avoid it. That’s what caused the crash. It wasn’t intentional.”

  “Oh that’s . . .” Tears streamed down Maddie’s face. Lucas took one hand, and Olivia took the other. “That’s so like my mom.” She sniffled. “I don’t suppose anyone has a tissue?”

  Maddie was quieter for the remainder of breakfast, but Olivia wasn’t worried. She didn’t take the ring off; that was a good sign. After Maddie and Lucas left together, holding hands, Olivia and Del were quiet through a last cup of coffee. Olivia felt comfortable and shy at the same time.

  “You know, Del,” she said finally, “you’re an okay guy.” Smooth, Livie.

  “Even if I’m too wimpy to punch in a door with my fists?”

  “They’re nice fists. I’d hate to see them broken.”

  Del picked up her hand and laced his fingers through hers. “Livie Greyson, you and I are due for a long, long talk. The sooner the better.”

  Olivia squeezed his fingers. “How about tonight?

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