When the Cookie Crumbles Read online

  Maddie perked up. “But someone like Karen might be more dangerous if she decided to turn on Hermione.”

  Olivia massaged Spunky’s ears as he snuggled next to her. “I keep wondering why Hermione drew attention to Karen’s behavior as a young woman in London.”

  “Maybe Hermione and Karen actually became friends in London and hatched this scheme together?” Maddie twirled one of her many red curls as she considered the possibilities. “Except the story isn’t true. Her so-called affair was with a fictional character in a crappy play.”

  “Right, and I find that interesting,” Olivia said. “Why bring it up at all?”

  Maddie stretched out her legs and perched her bare heels on the edge of the coffee table. “Well, according to your mom, the affair happened here in Chatterley Heights and seems to have ended badly. Then Paine returned to Chatterley Heights and refused to let Karen use the mansion for the celebration weekend. Karen already had reason to hate Paine, and she does not like to be crossed. So maybe Hermione approached her about doing away with the old reprobate.”

  “Maybe…” As Olivia jotted down a few notes, Spunky crawled onto her lap and curled up. The doggy sedative must have kicked in because he was acting like a very relaxed pup. Possibly too relaxed, Olivia thought as she scratched his ears. Spunky didn’t open his eyes. “Karen and Hermione would be unlikely partners, but it’s not out of the question. Even if they didn’t like each other, they might have cooperated out of hatred for Paine. We do know that Karen did not become pregnant at sixteen, which lessens her motive.”

  “That’s what your mom said, and I guess we should believe her,” Maddie said.

  “Mom is a superbly reliable source. I don’t know how she learns so much.”

  “People just open up to Ellie,” Maddie said. “I know I do. She has that empathetic and trustworthy thing going for her.”

  “What, and I don’t?”

  Maddie grabbed a small sofa pillow and held it across her midriff like a shield. “Livie, you have to admit there’s only one Ellie, but you’re no slouch. People tell you private stuff all the time. Why do you think you keep learning secrets that Del can’t drag out of suspects? They trust you. Although, given your track record solving mysteries, they probably shouldn’t trust you too much.… I’m digging myself in deeper, aren’t I?”

  “Yep, but nice try.” Olivia yawned. “I’d slug you, but I don’t have the energy, and it might disturb Spunky.”

  “Now see, that verged on empathetic. Could we go back to discussing Karen?”

  Olivia pushed her hair back from her forehead. It felt sticky from the hair spray Maddie had used to puff it out to a more wenchlike volume. The thought of another meeting led by Mayor Karen Evanson made Olivia long for a shower and bed. However…“We do need to consider the possibility that Hermione was not involved in her husband’s death. After all, did anyone know about her heart condition before the murder? Any of our other suspects might have assumed Hermione would become the obvious suspect in Paine’s death.”

  “Like Karen, for instance,” Maddie said.

  “Yes, okay, like Karen. Or Quill or Rosemarie or Matthew. Let’s move on to Quill Latimer. Rosemarie said he shouldered the blame for Paine’s cheating in high school. She thinks it was because Paine was getting him dates.”

  “Flimsy,” Maddie said, “and very sad. Maybe Quill had some shameful secret that Paine used to blackmail him.”

  “Good idea.” Olivia turned a page in her notebook. “I’m going to start a list of unanswered questions.” While Maddie carried the empty coffeepot and cups to the kitchen, Olivia brainstormed her list. “Here it is,” Olivia said when Maddie plopped back onto the sofa. “Can you think of anything else?”

  Maddie scanned the list and said, “Hermione was stealing from other stores in town, so let’s assume for the moment that she stole baking supplies from the community center kitchen and used them to make decorated cookies. Why would she do so? I mean, if she wanted cookies, she could have bought them—excuse me, pilfered them—from The Gingerbread House. We put out a tray of free cookies every day. She wouldn’t even have to steal them.”

  “Good point,” Olivia said. “I suppose a neighbor might have brought over some cookies to welcome the Chatterleys to the neighborhood, though I’ve yet to hear of anyone in town who isn’t furious with them for interfering with the celebration. From the picture Del sent us, with the remains of a decorated cookie on a plate in Paine’s bedroom, it seems whoever made them isn’t skilled at cutting and decorating cookies. Why bother? Why not just bring something simpler?” She added Maddie’s question and reread the entire list.

  UNANSWERED QUESTIONS

  Why was Quill willing to take the blame for Paine’s cheating?

  Had Paine seen Rosemarie since his return and recognized her as the student teacher who accused him of cheating?

  Does Rosemarie believe in and hope to find the Chatterley cookie-cutter collection?

  Who has been vandalizing Chatterley Mansion and why? Why doesn’t Hermione seem to care? (Were Paine and/or Hermione looking for the Chatterley cookie-cutter collection? Was anyone else involved in the search—or perhaps searching on his or her own?)

  Why did Paine fake his own death? And why did the Chatterleys live in London under assumed names?

  Why did Hermione lie about Karen’s connection to Paine and her? Did Karen have an affair with Paine in England, too?

  Why did Hermione steal items from several Chatterley Heights businesses? Were she and Paine broke, or was there another reason?

  Did Hermione steal ingredients to make decorated cookies and, if so, why?

  Olivia checked her watch. “We should leave soon. Let’s make a quick list of suspects and their motives for killing Paine, at least as far as we can determine. First, his wife, Hermione Chatterley. Wives always have to be considered, even when they have certifiable heart conditions.” She turned the page in her notebook and started a new list.

  “I don’t suppose being a crappy husband is motive enough,” Maddie said.

  “Not usually. But I did sense undercurrents in the Chatterley marriage. Maybe losing a baby drove a wedge between them, and it widened over the years. Add to that the strain of being broke, as they seemed to be, and his possible affair. His drinking couldn’t have helped much, either.”

  “I wonder,” Maddie said, “whose decision it was to move back to Chatterley Heights. If Paine pushed the move, that might have added to Hermione’s anger.”

  “And there’s the cookie-cutter angle,” Olivia said. “The simplest reason for the growing mess in the mansion is that someone has been searching for the Chatterley collection, hoping it would bring them wealth.”

  With some difficulty, Maddie maneuvered her serving wench skirt so she could sit cross-legged on the couch. “If Hermione thought Paine was wrong, that there was no collection, she might have lost it. Maybe she used lots of sleeping pills and whiskey to make it look like he died from a self-administered overdose. Then she could at least inherit the mansion and sell it. She did try to put it on the market right away.”

  “Then she took it off the market,” Olivia said. “And that theory doesn’t explain how Paine ended up in the bathtub. However, let’s guess at hatred as Hermione’s motive and leave the rest for now. Next, Quill Latimer. Paine copied his work in high school. When caught, Paine blackmailed the teacher to switch the tests so Quill looked guilty. Del thinks thirty-seven years is too long to hold a grudge, but during those years Quill never achieved what he had hoped for. Maybe he made his peace with his fate; maybe he didn’t.”

  “It’s a motive,” Maddie said. “Can I do Karen Evanson? I will accept your groan as a yes. Paine seduced sixteen-year-old Karen and then left the country. A few years later, Karen was in London, acting in a forgettable play, and Hermione, then Paine’s wife, knew about it. It’s possible Karen and Paine became involved again.”

  Olivia gently massaged the paw Spunky had hurt during his escape fro
m the puppy mill. “It’s possible,” Olivia said, “that Hermione intended to blackmail Karen and wanted to throw us off the track with her story about the fictional Sir Laurence and Ariana. If Karen’s experience at sixteen and the hypothetical later affair became public during her campaign for Congress, it would surely hurt her chances. It’s also possible that Paine tried to blackmail Karen, and after his death, Hermione decided to carry on.”

  Maddie reached over and lifted Spunky from Olivia’s lap. He whimpered in his sleep but nestled in the folds of Maddie’s skirt. “Convoluted,” she said, “but possible.”

  “Rosemarie York,” Olivia said, “disliked Paine because he got away with cheating, shifted the blame to Quill, and embarrassed him in the process. More important is that Rosemarie disliked Paine for what he did to Matthew.” Olivia tore the two completed lists out of her notebook and folded them. “I want to keep these with me.” She frowned at her tavern wench costume. “If only I had a pocket.”

  Maddie grinned. “There’s always your tight bodice. Nothing has fallen out of that yet.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Olivia attached a leash to Spunky’s collar and wrapped him in his favorite blanket. He didn’t notice; he was sound asleep. “I’ve changed my mind about leaving Spunky home,” Olivia said as she and Maddie headed downstairs from her apartment. “I was planning to snuggle him in my bed, but he’s never had this sedative before, and he’s sleeping far more deeply than usual. I want to keep an eye on him. We can settle him in a back room at the community center, farther away from all the noise. After that, how about giving me a quick guided tour of the gingerbread houses before my cursed meeting? I haven’t had a chance to enjoy them. Heck, I haven’t been able to get close to them.”

  “Excellent,” Maddie said. “I’d like to see them again without hordes in the way.”

  They avoided the park, where the fete was finishing up, and walked up Park Street toward the community center. The sun dipped toward the earth, chilling the air. Olivia held Spunky securely with one arm while she pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders. They were alone on the sidewalk as the fete goers in the park chose good spots from which to view the final fireworks.

  The community center was brightly lit when Maddie opened the unlocked door. “Rosemarie will be relieved when she can keep the front door locked at night,” Maddie said. “She’s been fretting about security for weeks.”

  “Wow,” said Olivia as she took in the full effect of the gingerbread house display, without crowds surrounding it. The scene was designed to look like a village, with curving rows of houses separated by paths representing streets, complete with street signs. In the middle, rising above the other buildings, was Chatterley Mansion.

  “Stunned admiration is always accepted,” Maddie said, “but I have to admit this was a team effort.” She took Spunky from Olivia’s arms. “I’ll settle him down in the little room next to Rosemarie’s office. No one uses it.”

  While she waited, Olivia wandered through the gingerbread village. She found herself mesmerized by a gingerbread bakery and candy store with a crushed peppermint roof and a red licorice door. Gingerbread cookie shelves, visible through the open windows, displayed thin cookie plates covered with button-sized decorated cookies and iced cakes. Little cookie bowls held red hots, chocolate jimmies, pink sugar sprinkles, and pastel dragées.

  Maddie returned in a few minutes. “Not a peep out of the pup,” she said.

  “I could devour this entire store,” Olivia said.

  “That’s because we skipped dessert. Those little plates of candies and cookies are mouthwatering, if I do say so myself, given the fact that I created them.

  “What’s that?” Olivia pointed to a gingerbread church with two steeples. Half of the church was plain gingerbread with peppermint trim. Its windows glowed with yellow icing. The other half had gray iced walls, stained glass windows made of melted candy, and a marzipan gargoyle on the roof.

  “Well, we were running out of time,” Maddie said. “We wanted to play fair, so one side of the church is St. Francis, and the other is St. Alban’s.”

  “The Catholics and the Episcopalians under one roof? There’s a schism waiting to happen.”

  “Maybe no one will notice,” Maddie said.

  “What will happen to the gingerbread village after the crowds depart?” Olivia asked. “Can we pack it away? Should we invite Chatterley Heights citizens to feast upon it?”

  Maddie strolled to the small yellow Victorian labeled “The Gingerbread House.” Pointing to a gap in the green and purple railing, she said, “Looks like someone already took a bite out of your porch. You can see the pretzel I painted with green royal icing to make the top of the railing.” She stood back to get the full view. “I made sure this one would be completely edible because, you never know, we might be hungry after your meeting. And all day tomorrow.”

  “And we’d be sick all night,” Olivia said. “Are you saying that some of these gingerbread houses aren’t edible?”

  “The goal is to make a gingerbread house entirely of edible materials, but sometimes you need to cheat a little. These buildings are all at least mostly edible, but to be honest, we had to make concessions.” Maddie led the way to the Chatterley Mansion gingerbread house. “For instance, the mansion was incredibly complex and quite large. We had to use some wood here and there to shore up the structure. We could try to keep the mansion, but we’d have to spray it with shellac. And find a place to store it. Anyway, Lucas helped me shoot a complete video of all the houses, both during construction and once they were finished. I was thinking we could use it to advertise for the store.”

  “Good idea.” Olivia pointed toward the mansion’s upper floor, where the cookie of Paine Chatterley as a boy stared sadly out the window. “It didn’t occur to me until now, but we probably should have canceled our contest,” she said. “I’m guessing it didn’t come across as sensitive after Paine’s death.”

  “You’d think so, but in fact no one mentioned anything,” Maddie said. “When I first put up the contest poster, I figured it would take about five minutes for someone to guess the boy was Paine. I put out a box for folks to leave their answers, and the thing filled to the brim by noon the first day. It’s strange, though.… No one got the boy’s identity right. Most of Chatterley Heights has been obsessed with the idea that they might be related to Frederick P. Chatterley, so they mostly guessed the names of their own obscure ancestors.”

  “They must have been fooled by the boy’s style of clothing,” Olivia said.

  “Also by wishful thinking.” Maddie laughed and shook her head. “Everyone wanted to be a Chatterley. What really surprised me was that even Hermione Chatterley didn’t get it. She came to visit the center when we’d just put the Chatterley Mansion gingerbread house out on display, and I’d posted the contest in several places nearby. I walked in and found Hermione starring at the mansion. She jumped when I greeted her. But she didn’t say a word about the contest.”

  “Are you sure she didn’t recognize Paine?” Olivia asked. “Maybe that’s why she was staring so hard.”

  Maddie shrugged. “Maybe. But I asked her if she wanted to guess the identity of the little boy. Everybody else had gotten it wrong, so I figured what the heck. What’s the point of a contest if no one can win it?”

  “And?” Olivia prompted.

  “And Hermione gave me this look, like I must be dense. She said, ‘How would I know?’ It was almost as if she didn’t recognize the mansion, either. It was weird. Maybe she was having a little introductory heart attack that affected her brain. Then she came back to the kitchen and sat for a while, watching us work. She had plenty of opportunities to swipe the gel food coloring and whatever else she might need to make the cookies in the photo Del sent us. If so, she’s quite an accomplished pilferer. The kitchen was swarming with bakers and decorators.”

  “Did Hermione say anything while she was in the kitchen?” Olivia asked.

  “Sh
e never shut up, but she never really said anything. It was more like she was filling the silence.”

  Olivia heard popping sounds outside, which meant the fireworks had begun. She checked the community center’s large wall clock. Twenty minutes had passed since their arrival. The fireworks could last up to forty minutes. Olivia hoped a few committee members would skip the fireworks and arrive early for the meeting, so she could probe for answers to her list of questions.

  Olivia got her wish as the community center’s front door opened, and Rosemarie York entered. After a slight hesitation, Rosemarie said, “Maddie, Olivia, hi.” She glanced briefly back over her shoulder and added, “Olivia, you’re a bit early for the meeting. I just thought I’d clean the place up a bit, get some coffee going.” She stepped aside and added, “Matthew came along to help.”

  Matthew Fabrizio entered, wearing a flannel shirt and faded jeans. With his dark hair, he looked like a short, wiry version of Lucas Ashford. Matthew carried a bucket and a new professional-sized mop. His dark eyes flitted around the room before coming to rest at last on Olivia. “Ms. Greyson,” he said, “I’ve been wanting to thank you. Mom said you tried to help me, and I appreciate that.”

  Matthew didn’t sound like the raging maniac Hermione had described before succumbing to a heart attack, nor did he act like a tortured artist prone to drunken self-pity. However, Olivia knew that Matthew was capable of both roles. “I did what I could,” Olivia said.

  “We’ll be cleaning up the kitchen while the committee meets,” Rosemarie said.

  With a sheepish grin that made him look younger than his twenty-five years, Matthew added, “The sheriff doesn’t totally trust me, but Mom told him she’d watch me like a hawk. So I’m here to make sure I keep busy and don’t cause any more trouble for her.”