by Eve Calder
“Only if I can help out around the house,” Kate said. “How about I start by baking up a batch of cookies? I mean, if you don’t mind someone else in your kitchen.”
“Are you kidding?” said Maxi. “Anyone who wants to cook in my kitchen is welcome to it.”
Chapter 14
“If you don’t mind cartoon characters, I can find you a new toothbrush,” Maxi said. “You have your choice of SpongeBob or Batman. And I’ve got some pj’s and a robe that should work. Brand new from my Tar-zhay collection. Stylish, yet practical.”
“Definitely Batman,” Kate said. “And I don’t know how to thank you. Your poor boys are getting kicked out of their room. They’re going to hate me.”
“Say it with cookies. Seriously, they’re so excited. We’re calling it a ‘camp-out sleepover’ in the living room. Complete with a tent. Which Peter is struggling to put up right now. Zach’s mom even said he could spend the night.”
“Camp-out sleepover, eh? That calls for some special cookies. Maybe something with a s’mores theme. And chocolate chip cookies as a backup. Everybody loves chocolate chip.”
“I’m just gonna sit here at the bar and watch you work,” Maxi said with a grin. “Sweetest deal ever.”
“Your kitchen is great,” Kate said, appraising the surroundings. “I haven’t been able to bake since I packed up and left Manhattan. And I’ve really missed it.”
“Did your home have a big kitchen?” Maxi asked, pulling cookie sheets, mixing bowls, spoons, and a sifter out of the cupboards. She opened a different door and lifted out flour, two kinds of sugar, and two yellow bags of Nestlé’s chips.
“Tiny. It was one corner of an efficiency apartment. All in one room,” Kate added. “Nineteen fifties white Formica everywhere. But the fridge and the stove were new. And I loved it. It’s where I perfected my recipes before I baked them at the restaurant.”
Kate surveyed the ingredients and smiled. “Got any marshmallows or chocolate bars?”
Maxi walked to the pantry, retrieved a step stool, and put it next to the refrigerator. She climbed up, opened a top cupboard, and produced a bag of marshmallows, along with three giant chocolate bars.
“My secret stash,” she explained.
“It’s for a good cause, I swear,” Kate said with a grin. “I made these once before. For a Halloween party. The kids loved them. The base is like a snickerdoodle, without the cinnamon. And with a lot less sugar. But the cookie has the same tang and the same texture. And on top, melted chocolate and a toasted marshmallow. Last time, I used a blowtorch from the restaurant. But I think we can get the same effect with the broiler, if I do it right.”
“That sounds delicious. I’ll eat any of the burned ones.”
“Good, because I’m in a new oven at a different altitude. I might scorch the first batch. But don’t tell anyone.”
“Please! Around here, we eat the mistakes. Peter calls those my ‘flop cakes.’ They taste good. They just look weird.”
Kate quickly learned that it’s impossible to keep baking cookies a secret in a house full of children. Twenty minutes later, she had a full audience in attendance.
“That smells good,” Michael said. “What is it?”
Kate looked at Maxi, who nodded. “We’re calling them camp-out cookies,” Kate said. “They’re topped with melted chocolate and toasted marshmallows.”
“All right!” said Zach.
“Cool!” said Michael.
“Yeah, cool!” said Javie.
“Cookies!” said Elena. “Cookie, cookie, cookie,” she sang.
“That’s right, love,” Maxi said. “Cookie, cookie, cookie.”
Kate pulled out the first batch. So far, so good.
“OK, who wants to help me top them with chocolate and marshmallows?” she asked as she put the cookie sheets onto tea towels she’d set out on the counter.
The kids answered her with a chorus of “me, me, me!” and Maxi gave each one a hand wipe. “Can’t be too careful,” she said, winking.
“OK, now the cookies are really hot, so you don’t want to touch them. Just drop a piece of chocolate on top, and then one of these big marshmallows.”
“Then can we eat them?” Javie asked.
“Then we pop them back into the oven for just a couple of minutes. Then we can eat them.”
“That’s the part I like,” he said solemnly. His sister nodded.
“Soon, baby,” Maxi said, hugging him. “Very soon.”
With two adults and four kids, they were done in no time. Kate slid the two trays into the broiler, cranked it up, and crossed her fingers. This could go either way, she thought.
“OK, guys, check this out,” she said. “If you peek through the window in the oven, you can watch the marshmallows toast. They’re going to turn brown. That’s when they’re gooey and good.”
For the first thirty seconds, nothing happened. Then, like a flower blooming, golden patches appeared on the tops of all the marshmallows, gradually deepening until they were a rich brown.
“Done!” Kate declared. “Everybody step way back.”
“OK, kiddos! Everybody take a seat at the table,” Maxi said protectively as Kate grabbed another tea towel and pulled the cookie sheets out of the oven, placing them carefully back on the counter.
“Can we eat them now?” Javie pleaded.
“Not quite yet,” Kate said. “There’s nothing hotter than a hot marshmallow. It’ll really burn your mouth. Just give them a couple of minutes to cool and we’re good to go.”
“Just enough time to pour some milk,” Maxi said. “Who wants some?”
When every hand shot up—including Elena’s—she gave everyone a jelly jar and carefully filled each with cold milk.
Kate gingerly touched one of the cookies. It felt cool enough to try. She broke off a piece. Warm, melty, and wonderful. Done.
She grabbed a spatula, loaded the cookies onto a platter, and placed them in the middle of the kitchen table. “I think we have lift-off,” she told the crowd.
“They smell good!” Zach said. “And they look like s’mores.”
“Oh man!” Michael said, grabbing a cookie and taking a big bite.
“Dunk!” Elena declared, submerging the cookie in her glass. “Ooh, good cookie!”
“I don’t think she’s ever met a bad cookie,” Maxi said with a wink. “But neither have I. Oh, muy buena! I watched you make these, every step, and I still don’t know how they can taste this good. And the cookie part is so light!”
Kate beamed.
“I like camp-out cookies!” Javie said, snagging another one. “And I like camping out!”
Maxi put four cookies on a tray with two fresh glasses of milk and carried it into the next room “for mi mami and the tent builder.” While she was gone, the kids polished off the remaining cookies.
When Javie grabbed the empty platter with both hands and licked it clean, Kate nearly strained a muscle trying not to laugh.
“Javier Peter Más-Buchanan, you put that down!” Maxi said charging back into the kitchen. “You know better than that. Now, all of you, what do you say to Miss Kate?”
“Thank you!” they all said in unison.
“Cookie, cookie, cookie,” Elena cooed happily.
“OK, bath time for Javie and Elena! Miguel, you get a pass tonight, since you have a guest. And your father said to tell you the tent is ready and you can grab the sleeping bags from your closet.”
“Awesome!” Michael said as he and Zach raced into the next room.
* * *
While Maxi readied her younger kids for bed and Peter entertained Michael and Zach with ghost stories, Kate kept baking. It felt good to be creating something again with her own hands. Useful.
She made a few batches of Toll House cookies, knowing the kids would love those, too.
As she mixed more dough, Kate thought about Sam—and how he’d perked up when she volunteered to keep the bakery going. So just how was she going to do that?
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Maxi planned to take him an early lunch of spicy chicken stew, plantains, and rice. Home-cooked comfort food. Cookies for dessert would be perfect. Normally. But what kind of cookies do you make for a man who hates cookies?
In all her years selling Girl Scout cookies and baking professionally, she’d never run into anyone who didn’t love cookies. Whether they admitted it or not. One renowned Michelin-starred chef even kept a secret stash of Thin Mints in his tony restaurant’s walk-in fridge. For emergencies.
Yet when Kate tried to get a read on Sam, she’d come up totally blank. A first.
For some reason, Oliver’s soft, fuzzy face popped into her mind. She smiled.
Ginger snaps.
Did Maxi have all the ingredients? Kate did a quick check of the fridge and found a big jar of molasses. And in the pantry she discovered an industrial-sized jar of powdered ginger, along with plenty of cinnamon and cloves. And another one-pound bag of brown sugar.
Good to go.
She had just rolled out the dough and was cutting it into little rounds with a small glass when Maxi reappeared. The ends of her black pageboy were damp. And there were telltale wet spots on her fuchsia T-shirt.
“Bath time is a battle,” she reported. “Even when they love the water. Oooooh, that smells good. Spicy.”
“Ginger snaps. For Oliver and Sam.”
“Oliver loves his ginger snaps,” Maxi said. “And Sam loves them, too. Or used to. Before Cookie … um … passed. How did you know?”
“Call it a hunch. I figured I’d make a big batch and we could tuck some in with Sam’s lunch. And drop the rest off with Oliver’s owner. Who is his owner, anyway?”
“Oliver owns Oliver,” Maxi said. “He’s sort of the town dog.”
“But he has to live somewhere,” Kate said.
Maxi shook her head. “Nope. He just showed up downtown one day. That was, gee, about three months ago. Oh, you should have seen him! He was just this little ball of cream-colored fluff,” she said, holding her hands about a foot apart. “We didn’t even know what he was exactly. Maybe a Labradoodle. Or a Goldendoodle. Even now, nobody knows for sure. And Oliver’s not telling. But everybody wanted him, and a couple of folks tried to adopt him. He’d accept their hospitality for a couple of days. Then he’d take off. Course I thought what he really needed was a family with little kids. So then I brought him home. And he stayed more than a week—almost two. But one morning—poof! He was gone. Oliver loves everybody. But he never stays in one place too long. So he’s become the town dog. Everyone puts out water for him. And feeds him. I give him regular baths at the flower shop, ’cause I have a hose and a big sink. He’ll stay at different houses, a night or two at a time. Like a hotel. And there’s a mobile vet clinic that comes through regularly. So I take him there for checkups and puppy shots. Annie Kim, our pharmacist, she gives him a heartworm pill once a month. But Oliver has basically decided he doesn’t belong to anyone. He’s kind of his own dog.”
“That’s why his tag says ‘Coral Cay.’”
“Sam got that for him. Wanted to make sure people know he isn’t a stray—that he has a home. He’s microchipped, too. The address and phone number are the town hall. And we all paid for that. Heck, the last time Oliver got a round of puppy shots, ten different people were giving me money to cover it. So now the town clerk keeps an ‘Oliver fund.’”
“And I thought New York had some odd stories,” Kate said, smiling.
“You ain’t seen nothing yet,” Maxi said, covering a yawn with her hand. “Sorry, I was up so early. And I still have stuff to do. I’m gonna make some coffee. Cuban coffee. You want some?”
Kate remembered the strong, dark liquid from this morning. Was it only this morning? A little caffeine right now was exactly what she needed.
“That would be great. So have you told Peter that we’re going to be running the bakery for a while?”
Maxi shrugged as she carefully measured the rich, pungent grounds. “I think he suspects something’s up. Better I tell him later when we can talk. Right now, he’s telling the boys scary stories. Using flashlights for a campfire. And I can’t tell who’s having more fun.”
“I’ve been thinking,” Kate started as she rolled out more dough. “If we’re going to get people to come back to the Cookie House, we’re going to need some pretty fancy marketing.”
“I know what you mean. Sam is that bakery. Without his breads, the locals aren’t going to come.”
“Not only that,” Kate added. “Everyone keeps mentioning ‘bakery’ and ‘murder’ in the same sentence. That’s not exactly good for business.”
“We need to clear Sam’s name,” Maxi declared, carefully setting the coffeepot on the stove.
“Exactly. I’ve only known the man a couple of days. But he’s a gentle soul. Besides, poison? That’s the weapon of a sneak. Whatever Sam’s flaws, he’s not a sneak.”
Maxi giggled. “Mi padrino doesn’t know how to be sneaky. He’s too blunt. One more reason he’s family to me. But there’s something else. Something you need to know. Sam? He loved Cookie so much. She was his corazón. His heart. Using the Cookie House to kill someone? He’d never do that. Not even that horrible Stewart Lord.”
Kate nodded. “That makes sense. Not in a way you can present to a jury. But I get it. Do you think the people here in Coral Cay believe he’s innocent?”
“From what I know about this town, I think they’re in two camps,” Maxi said, holding up two fingers. “First, people like us, who know he didn’t do it. And second, people like my Peter, who think there’s a tiii-ny possibility but wouldn’t blame him one little bit.”
“So who really killed Stewart Lord?” Kate asked aloud.
Maxi snapped her fingers. “I have an idea. But we’re gonna need more cookies. A lot more.”
“Bribing a jail guard?” Kate said lightly.
Maxi shook her glossy head. “Better. I belong to a book club. Most of the members are local business owners. We read mysteries. And thrillers. A little true crime, too. We call ourselves the Coral Cay Irregulars. It’s a good bunch, and it’s fun. We get together once a month or so. Eat a little, talk books, talk business, talk mysteries…”
“Drink a little wine,” Kate suggested.
“Oooh, the wine! That’s the best part. Harper Duval hosts it. I don’t think you’ve met him yet. He runs the local wine shop, and he’s rich. Very wealthy. His house is … magnificent. He has a wine cellar, where we meet. Racks full of wine everywhere. Like a cave and climate controlled. Only, because it’s South Florida, not a real cellar, like under the house. But it’s fantastic,” Maxi said, spreading her hands. “Like something from a movie. And the food! He puts out the most wonderful cheeses and meats. My favorite last time was this special aged ham, imported from Italy. And a buttery cheese from Denmark. So good. When we meet, everyone brings dishes to share. Only their very best. That’s why we need your cookies. And rápido. The next meeting is Sunday afternoon. The day after tomorrow.”
“I’ll make as many as you need,” said Kate, puzzled. “But how will that help Sam?”
“These people are smart. They see everything. They know this town. And they love mysteries. Who killed Stewart Lord? It’s a mystery. A real mystery. And it happened right here. On our Main Street. We all knew the victim. We all know Sam. If you and I can persuade the club to look into it, maybe we can all put our heads together and solve this one.”
Chapter 15
Harper Duval’s house was everything Maxi had described. Only more.
A whitewashed Florida-style mansion with a baronial front porch, surrounded by pin oaks dripping in Spanish moss and a wrought-iron fence, it looked like it had been part of the landscape for at least 150 years.
Maxi swore it was less than a decade old. “Harper and Caroline built it right after they moved to town. Their dream house. You can’t tell from here,” she said, angling the car onto a grassy spot near the overcrowded driveway, “but it’s on a bluff that
overlooks the beach. You can see the water from almost every room.”
“Wow, I’m guessing money was no object,” Kate said.
“Nope. They’re loaded. So when Harper volunteered to be the club’s permanent host, we were thrilled. His home’s almost as good as his food. The man has excellent taste. The funny thing is, I thought he might want to take a break while Caroline’s away. But I think it helps him to keep busy.”
“Away? Where did she go?”
“Rehab,” Maxi said quietly. “For drinking.”
“He runs a wine shop and his wife’s an alcoholic?”
“I know, right? The shop has always been more his thing than hers. And they haven’t decided what they’re going to do with it when she gets back. But I’m guessing the wine cave will definitely have to go.”
They fell silent for a moment, digesting this, as Maxi shifted the car into park, straightened the wheel, and pulled out the keys.
“Are you sure your club is OK with my crashing the party?” Kate said, smoothing an unruly lock of her caramel-colored hair. “I’m not a member. And I haven’t read the book. I don’t even know what the book is.”
“The Mysterious Affair at Styles. And of course they won’t mind. You’re bringing them two things they can’t resist: dessert and a mystery. Trust me, they’ll love you.”
Kate hoped her friend was right. She and Maxi had done some math and calculated they’d need about four dozen Toll House cookies for the meeting. So while Maxi spent Saturday morning at the flower shop, Kate hit Amos Tully’s market for supplies.
After they dropped off Sam’s lunch Saturday afternoon, Kate planned to go hunting for Oliver. To deliver her gift of ginger snaps. But when they walked out of the police station, he was there rolling in the grass. Like he’d been waiting for them.
After he scarfed the first three cookies, Kate managed to lure the half-grown puppy into Maxi’s car.