When the Cookie Crumbles Read online

  “Agreed,” Del said. He slid from the booth and offered Olivia a hand. “I’ll bring the wine. Lots of it.”

  Chapter Seven

  After her lunch with Del, Olivia arrived back at The Gingerbread House to find Maddie, Bertha, and her mother, Ellie, inundated with customers. Some of them, unfortunately, were in the market for gossip rather than cookie cutters or pearlized sugar sprinkles. At least three women, Olivia was pleased to note, were cooing over Sadie Briggs’s hand-embroidered aprons. One of the women put aside an apron as if she were planning to buy it.

  Maddie had finished helping a customer choose a gingerbread house kit, so Olivia waved her over. “Any chance you’d have time to talk Aunt Sadie into parting with more aprons? I think they’ll sell well over the weekend. At this rate, we’ll have to raise the price again before the festivities begin.”

  “Already done,” Maddie said. “I hung twenty more in the inventory closet. I hate to say it, but a mysterious death in Chatterley Mansion probably won’t hurt weekend attendance. Any chance Paine was murdered?”

  “I’m sure you meant that in a sensitive way,” Olivia said.

  “You know what I mean. I’m betting you and Del discussed Paine’s death, so what’s the scoop?”

  Olivia hesitated, remembering her agreement with Del that if he revealed to her any details about a crime, she would keep it to herself. She had acquiesced easily because she’d assumed future crimes were unlikely to involve her in any way. On the other hand, Del didn’t seem to think Paine’s death was murder. “It’s way too early for those questions,” Olivia said. “We’ll have to wait for the autopsy, and the results will probably appear in Binnie’s blog before I hear anything. Assuming Del lets her out of jail soon.”

  “Binnie can be useful,” Maddie said. “But you were inside the mansion, Livie. At least tell me what you saw. I mean, did Paine fall down the stairs or what?”

  To Olivia’s relief, her mother waved to her from the sales counter, where customers were lining up. “Gotta go. Mom needs my help,” Olivia said.

  “You’d better fill me in during dinner this evening,” Maddie said. “Because if you don’t, I might forget to pass on Aunt Sadie’s story about the Chatterleys and cookie cutters. If that doesn’t work, I’m sure I can think of other ways to blackmail you into talking.”

  To Olivia, moving back to Chatterley Heights after her divorce had sounded like a good idea. Small-town life looked idyllic…from a distance. Now she wondered if her apartment in Baltimore was still available.

  Olivia joined her mother behind the cash register, where they whittled down a long line of customers. As the last one headed for the front door, Ellie said, “My yoga class is due to begin in ten minutes. If I miss it again, I can’t be responsible for my behavior.”

  “I wouldn’t want that on my conscience,” Olivia said. “And thanks for helping. We hired temporary help for the weekend.”

  As Ellie opened the front door to leave, Mayor Karen Evanson strode through. Ellie sent Olivia a smile and a wave before making her escape.

  Could this day get any more complicated? Catching a determined glint in the mayor’s eyes, Olivia composed herself as best she could.

  “We need to talk,” Karen said loudly enough to turn heads in her direction.

  “We’re awfully busy at the—”

  “Now. In private.” Karen bypassed the sales counter and headed toward the kitchen door.

  Olivia shot a glance at Maddie, who tried to look sympathetic but couldn’t pull it off. Olivia took a deep breath, then another, and followed Karen into the kitchen.

  Karen leaned back against the kitchen counter, her arms tightly crossed. “I know you are dating the sheriff,” she said.

  “Okay.” Doesn’t everyone know that? “Is there a problem with my dating Del?”

  “Here’s the deal.” Karen’s eyes narrowed to slits. Olivia was reminded of a wolf on the prowl for dinner. “I will not allow our celebration to be canceled for any reason. Certainly not because a drunk drowned in his own bathtub, which I’m still convinced is what happened.”

  “How do you know—?”

  “Not relevant. I’m the mayor, I know things. The celebration is my highest priority at the moment, but Sheriff Jenkins wants us to ‘dial it down,’ which means no parade, no interviews with the press.…Basically, he doesn’t want to call attention to the fact that a Chatterley died under questionable circumstances.” Karen began to pace, which in such a crowded kitchen meant about five high-heeled steps in either direction.

  “I’m confused, Karen. That doesn’t sound like Del. He knows that rumors are bound to crop up, especially since reporters were right there when Hermione Chatterley fainted. I just had lunch with Del, and he said he thought Paine’s death was most likely an accident.”

  “Well, now Sheriff Jenkins suspects Paine was murdered. He wants me to cancel any weekend events near or at the mansion. Something about strangers trampling all over the grounds and interfering with an investigation. He even said he’d call the newspapers, if he had to, and tell them the whole weekend has been canceled out of respect. Ha. He doesn’t know the press like I do. They’d smell a story. However, to be on the safe side”—Karen shot her wrist from the sleeve of her tailored blazer and checked her watch—“you must convince the sheriff to back off.”

  “Why would I do that?” Olivia had an uncomfortable feeling she wasn’t going to like the answer.

  In high heels, Karen was a shade taller than Olivia’s five foot seven. The mayor straightened her spine, emphasizing the temporary height advantage, and said, “Because if you don’t talk the sheriff into backing off, he will no longer be sheriff. I will make that happen, believe me.”

  Olivia believed her. She also knew that Del would be undeterred by the threat, which put Olivia in a sticky spot. “I’ll deliver your message, Karen, but you’re mistaken if you think I can convince Del to push aside his professional judgment.”

  “Do so immediately,” Karen said as she brushed past Olivia. “I have a meeting in five minutes at the town hall. It shouldn’t take more than half an hour. I’ll expect a call from you then.” Her last few words were tossed over her shoulder as the kitchen door swung shut behind her.

  Olivia’s cell vibrated as she bit the head off a gingerbread baker. She’d already devoured a gingerbread girl in a bright orange sundress. When she saw it was her mother calling, she grabbed the phone and answered with an incoherent grunt.

  “Livie? I have no idea what you just said. Anyway, my yoga class just finished, and I saw your message to call.”

  “Sorry, Mom. Cookie.”

  “Oh dear. What has happened?”

  “Karen happened.” She told Ellie about the mayor’s threat to ruin Del’s career if he insisted the celebration weekend be altered.

  “That is distressing,” Ellie said. “Luckily, yoga has restored my mental balance, so it occurs to me that if Karen approached you with such determination, it most likely means she is desperate. She probably already threatened Del to his face and didn’t change his mind. Karen does tend to become forceful when she…”

  “Doesn’t get her way?”

  “Unkind but true. I’m fond of Karen,” Ellie said. “She is ambitious, yes, but she has a strong desire to serve as well. She has given up a great deal to follow her path.”

  “I bow to your wisdom, Mom, but could we talk about Del? I can’t get hold of him. Cody isn’t at the police department, or at least he isn’t answering the phone, and the officer on duty said he didn’t know their whereabouts. Del’s cell goes right to voice mail. That isn’t like him, not when he’s on duty.”

  “You sound worried, dear. I doubt that Karen is slicing him in half as we speak. As it happens, I do have another yoga-induced thought. Del might turn off his cell when he’s in an important meeting with other law enforcement personnel, such as—”

  “The medical examiner,” Olivia said. “Of course. I was so upset by Karen, I didn’t stop to
wonder why Del was so insistent about protecting the mansion grounds. He must have gotten the results of the autopsy.”

  “So glad to be of help, Livie. Now have another cookie and relax. I’m sure Del will fill you in when he can.”

  “If he doesn’t, I’ll—hold that thought, Mom. I’ve got another call coming through. I’ll check in later.” Before answering, Olivia confirmed the call was from Del and not Karen.

  “Livie, got your message. I’m glad you called. I’m going to need your help with something. It involves our esteemed mayor, so it’ll be a challenge.”

  “Ooh, don’t tell me, let me guess,” Olivia said. “You’ve just left the medical examiner, who told you that Paine Chatterley was murdered. You want to keep people away from the mansion grounds until further notice, in case some evidence was missed. Which means you want me to convince Karen to cancel any planned tours in the vicinity of Chatterley Mansion.”

  “Uh…Karen already talked to you, didn’t she? Did she mention her threat to get me—?”

  “Fired, lit up, and burned at the stake? Actually, she tried to make it my responsibility to convince you to back off. But enough of Karen. First, I want to know what the ME told you.”

  “I don’t know.…”

  “Didn’t you mention wanting my help dealing with Karen? Is that a sigh I hear?”

  “Why do I bother? It’ll be all over town soon anyway. Okay, yes, the ME is convinced Paine was murdered.”

  When Olivia heard silence instead of elaboration, she asked, “How was he murdered? Shot? Stabbed? Poisoned?”

  “Other,” Del said.

  “What’s left? Electrocution by blow-dryer? Come on, give me something.”

  “Later,” Del said. “I need to meet up with Cody. When you talk to Karen, remind her that a screwed-up investigation won’t look good for her, either. She needs to cooperate with the police, not hinder us.”

  “Good point. I’ll tell Mom.”

  “Ellie? Why?”

  Olivia heard a revving sound. Del must be about to start driving. “Karen won’t listen to me. But Mom might be able to talk some sense into her. And if Mom can’t, no one can.”

  “Cheater,” Del said. “Now you still owe me.”

  “I’m sure we could think of something.…”

  With a chuckle, Del said, “I’m sure we could, but you are going to be too busy. Not only do you have a store to operate and lots of customers about to descend, but you will be spending more time with Hermione Chatterley as well.”

  “Hermione? But isn’t she—” Olivia heard the blast of a car horn.

  “Should have driven a squad car,” Del muttered. “Folks drive like idiots when they don’t think a police officer’s around. What were you saying, Livie? Oh yeah, about Hermione. We haven’t arrested her.”

  “But isn’t she the obvious suspect?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “But what? You haven’t found the weapon? You’re asking me to babysit a possible murderer; I think I have a right to know.” Olivia was edging toward irritation, and she let her voice show it.

  “Okay, you’ve got a point,” Del said. “Paine did not drown, which is why we think he was almost certainly murdered. He was found with his head underwater, but there was no water in his lungs. The ME said he suffocated. Tests revealed a high level of barbiturate in his system. Paine had a prescription for a barbiturate sleep aid. He’d filled the prescription right before leaving England, and the bottle was almost empty. Yes, he could have taken too many by accident or as a suicide attempt, but how did he suffocate? And how did he get to the bathtub? If he’d merely been unconscious, there would be water in his lungs—and he couldn’t have gotten to the tub on his own.”

  “Hermione is fairly sturdy,” Olivia said. “Couldn’t she have dragged him? He was a slight man.”

  “Not if she was telling the truth about the state of her health, and it seems she was. She told us she has congestive heart failure and a bad back. Cody took her to Johns Hopkins for tests and a thorough checkup; that’s where I’m going now. He called a while back and confirmed it’s unlikely Hermione could have lifted or dragged a grown man and then gotten him into the bathtub. It’s one of those old tubs—you know, the tall ones with claw feet.”

  “Maybe she had help.”

  “Maybe.” Del sounded frustrated. “But we can’t arrest her with what we’ve got. That’s why I want you to visit her. She’s unlikely to reveal anything accidentally when a police officer is around, but she might start chattering with you. The officer will be within yelling distance, in case you wondered. I don’t want to find you facedown in a bathtub.”

  “Good to hear.”

  Chapter Eight

  Maddie reached toward the bowl on Olivia’s kitchen table. “Macaroni and cheese is never as good the next day,” she said. “Or so I’ve heard.”

  “Be my guest,” Olivia said. “You load up on cholesterol, and I’ll start the dishes.”

  “I think cholesterol must be a French word because I don’t understand it.” Maddie slid the macaroni and cheese toward her and ate the last few bites. As she scraped the cheese off the sides of the bowl, she said, “Now let me get this straight. Del said that Paine Chatterley was dosed up on sleeping pills, and he suffocated. Except he somehow undressed, got into the bathtub, drank a large amount of whiskey, and actually died before his head slid underwater. And Hermione couldn’t have carried or dragged him into the tub. I’m confused.”

  “I know,” Olivia said. “That bothered me, too.” She fitted the empty macaroni and cheese bowl into the dishwasher and started it running. “It’ll get noisy in here,” she said. “I’ll start the coffee and scrounge some cookies for dessert. You head for the living room. And take this mutt with you.” Olivia swept back the silky hair that had fallen over Spunky’s eyes. Sensing an opportunity, he tilted his head and whimpered. “My little con artist,” Olivia said with affection. “As if you didn’t just finish eating half an hour ago.” She handed two dog treats to Maddie. “He’ll follow you to the living room,” she said, “but only give him one treat. He can have the other when we’ve settled on the couch. Otherwise, he’ll come trotting back to tell me he hasn’t eaten in a week.”

  Olivia arranged a plate of decorated cookies—gingerbread men and women, all wearing crowns atop hair colors not found in nature. She placed the plate on a tray along with the coffee carafe and cups. Cream and sugar for both of them, of course. When she arrived in the living room, Spunky sat motionless on the sofa, his limpid eyes fixed on Maddie.

  “Thank God you’re here,” Maddie said. “I think he was planning to kill me.”

  “Nonsense,” Olivia said as she placed the tray on the coffee table. “Spunky is almost entirely nonviolent. Aren’t you, boy?”

  Spunky’s ears twitched, but his concentration never wavered.

  “Please tell me I can give him his tre—his t-r-e-a-t,” Maddie said. Spunky yapped and jumped onto her lap. “Hey, when did he learn to spell?”

  “My little boy,” Olivia said fondly. “He wants to go to Harvard, but I told him, Mommy can only afford in-state tuition. He’ll have to get a scholarship. Anyway, you’d better throw his treat onto the rug. It’s your only hope.”

  Maddie threw the treat so hard it hit the living room wall and broke in half. Spunky hit the rug running and crunched his way through both pieces.

  “Two seconds,” Olivia said. “A personal best.” She selected a gingerbread queen with violet hair and settled back on the sofa. “About Paine Chatterley’s death,” she said. “I think Del left out some details about the order in which Paine was drugged, drunk, dragged, drowned, and/or suffocated.”

  “As I understand it,” Maddie said, “Paine didn’t drown. The pills apparently didn’t kill him, either. Maybe he got really zonked on pills and alcohol, then suffocated accidentally? I can imagine someone in that condition getting dangerously tangled up in the bedclothes.”

  “Except how did he get into the tub?
According to Del, the medical examiner insisted it was murder. So there has to be something else, something technical that Del didn’t think we needed to know.”

  “Geez, it almost sounds like Paine wouldn’t die, and his killer was desperate.” Maddie dunked her gingerbread king’s green hair into her coffee and got it to her mouth before the cookie dissolved. “Maybe Del didn’t think you needed all the details. As he keeps telling you, we aren’t police officers.”

  “Which reminds me,” Olivia said, “I’m not telling you any of this.”

  “Understood. Maybe Paine was already in the tub when someone came up behind him and strangled him.”

  Having gnawed through his own version of cookies, Spunky leaped onto the sofa and nestled between Maddie and Olivia for a warm nap. Gently stroking his ears, Olivia said, “When Del called to tell me Paine was murdered, his last words to me were ‘I don’t want to find you facedown in a bathtub.’ I might be overinterpreting, but I’m wondering…”

  “You’re wondering,” Maddie said, “why Paine would be facedown? If he was in the tub when he died, wouldn’t he have slid underwater faceup?”

  “Exactly. Although maybe Del wasn’t being literal.”

  “Livie, when have you known Del to be imprecise about his work?”

  “Point taken,” Olivia said. “Although Paine might have been trying to get out of the tub while he was being suffocated. I’d like to hear Hermione’s story.”

  “And isn’t it convenient,” Maddie said, “that Del wants you to babysit Hermione. Maybe you can get her to spill a few clues.”

  “I suppose we have to assume that Johns Hopkins School of Medicine knows what it’s doing,” Olivia said, “which would mean that the perfect suspect, Hermione, wouldn’t have the strength to get Paine into the tub after he was dead.”

  Maddie reached for another member of the gingerbread royalty, this time with cobalt blue hair. “What would be her motive? I mean, aside from the fact that Paine wasn’t the ideal husband. So far, the last of the Chatterleys have behaved like bankrupt freeloaders. Hermione is a thief. Paine drank, took pills, and slept a lot. I’m not confident there’s an inheritance for Hermione, except maybe the mansion and its contents.”