“May I refill your cup?” Olivia asked.
Robbie shook his head. “Can’t stay,” he said. “I only came here to make it clear to everyone, especially you, that Alicia is a troubled girl. Very troubled. She lives in that silly, empty head of hers, where she thinks she’s a poor, unloved child, and everyone is treating her badly. She’s always making things up. You can’t believe a word she says. I keep telling Crystal, Alicia should be put away someplace where she can get treatment, but I’m not paying for that. She’s nineteen. She’s old enough to be on her own.”
To hide her discomfort, Olivia slid off her perch and headed across the nook toward the coffee and cookies. While she dawdled over the cookie tray, she heard her mother clear her throat, a sound that still sent an automatic shiver down Olivia’s spine. When Ellie cleared her throat, it meant someone was about to be skewered. Olivia grabbed a cookie and turned around to watch. Ellie sat on the wide arm of her chair, her slender back ramrod straight. Even from across the nook, Olivia could see her mother’s flushed cheeks and narrowed eyes. Olivia knew that look. It transported her back in time to age thirteen, when she’d announced that she and a girlfriend planned to take the bus to Baltimore for an evening rock concert. She had added defiantly that her mother couldn’t stop them. Of course, Ellie had quickly stopped them with but a few well-chosen words and those flashing eyes. Olivia had learned a lesson that day. When her mother’s eyes narrow and her cheeks flush, it is best to find cover at once.
Robbie stood when Ellie did, but he seemed oblivious to her reaction to his criticism of Alicia. “Well, I’ve said what I needed to,” Robbie said. “I need to get back to work. My company is building a new house a few blocks north of the Chatterley Mansion. I stand to make a bundle on that job. Can’t sit around all day sipping coffee and nibbling cookies.” He handed his empty cup to Olivia, as if she were a servant.
“Before you leave, Mr. Quinn . . .” Ellie paused until she had Robbie’s attention. Olivia held her breath.
“Yes?” Robbie checked his watch. When Ellie did not immediately respond, Robbie frowned at her.
Ellie’s hazel eyes regarded Robbie’s face with a steady, unblinking stare that made Olivia squirm. A steady, unblinking stare from her mother was even worse than narrowed eyes and flushed cheeks. Olivia realized she was holding her breath. She jump-started her lungs, telling herself that Ellie’s wrath was not directed at her. However, this was likely to be a memorable moment.
“Mr. Quinn.” Ellie paused a moment.
“I told you, call me Robbie.”
“Mr. Quinn, when you married Crystal, you surely realized she had a daughter. You became a stepfather, responsible for a young girl’s welfare and well-being. Alicia was vulnerable. Her beloved father had disappeared, and she missed him terribly. She felt lost and abandoned. You could have helped change all that.”
With an impatient shake of his head, Robbie said, “Look, I’m sure you mean well—your type usually does—but you haven’t a clue. Alicia was a lost cause the moment she was born. It’s genetics, plain and simple. If Crystal had married me in the first place, our kid would be a go-getter. He’d be making us proud instead of moping around waiting for life to give him everything his heart desires.”
Ellie opened her mouth to speak, but Robbie barreled ahead. “I came here to warn you, all of you”—he glanced across the room toward Olivia— “not to believe a word Alicia says. That girl lives in a dream world. She makes up nonsense and sheds those crocodile tears just to get everyone else to take care of her.” Robbie fixed Olivia with a hard stare, as if she, too, were a troublesome teenager in need of firm control. “Make sure the sheriff understands that.”
Before Ellie could respond, Robbie charged out of the cookbook nook toward the Gingerbread House entrance. After she heard the door slam, Olivia said, “For what it’s worth, Mom, you sure impressed me. That man’s blustering made me start to think about how to help Alicia. Assuming she didn’t murder her father, that is . . .”
“Oh, I doubt she did, dear,” Ellie said with a sigh. “Although one never knows, does one?”
Ellie’s wan smile worried Olivia. “You look draggy, Mom. Are you feeling . . . you know, uncentered? Shall I call your yoga instructor for an emergency session?”
“That’s sweet of you, dear. Ever so slightly denigrating, but still, I’m sure you meant well. I do have a yoga class in an hour, and I think I can survive until then.” Ellie’s smile warmed up a notch. “However, there is something you could do for me that would lift my spirits.”
“Anything.” Olivia hoped her mother wasn’t about to request grandchildren in the near future.
“I could use a cookie.”
Chapter Seven
By eleven-thirty a.m., The Gingerbread House had settled down to its usual Tuesday afternoon slump. The few customers in the store had declared themselves to be “just looking,” so Olivia slipped into the cookbook nook and settled into an armchair to give Del a quick call.
Del answered on the first ring. “Hey, for once you’ve got your cell phone.”
“I’ll have you know I’ve only forgotten it once this week,” Olivia said.
“It’s only Tuesday morning,” Del said. “There’s still plenty of time to break your all-time record. What is your all-time record?”
“I have no idea,” Olivia said with what she hoped was a good-natured laugh. “So what’s up? Any new forensic information about those bones?”
Del dropped his teasing tone as he said, “Very little, but the lab is really backed up, so all they’ve done is a quick review of my notes and photos. Any chance you can get away for a quick lunch? I haven’t yet spent my entire paycheck, so it’s my treat. How about the Chatterley Café?”
“That’s an offer I can’t refuse,” Olivia said. “Tell me about the ‘little’ progress on the case.”
“I thought we could cover that later,” Del said.
“If it’s little, what’s wrong with now? Business is slow today, so this is a good time.” Olivia glanced quickly at the time on her cell phone. “It’s a whole half hour before my lunch break. I’m not a patient woman.”
Del chuckled. “But if I tell you everything now, lunch with me might seem less tempting. Sometimes I wonder if you only let me stick around because I’m your best source of information about local crimes.”
“Are you kidding?” Olivia hesitated, just a moment, before she added, “After all, you are paying for lunch . . . at the Chatterley Café. Besides, I have information for you that might even be more interesting than—”
Maddie peeked around the cookbook nook entrance. “Livie, our customer population is growing. Bertha took an early lunch to run an errand, and she won’t be back until noon. Can you come help?”
Olivia nodded. “My public clamors, Del. Gotta go to work. I’ll meet you at the Chatterley Café in half an hour. If I’m a bit late, you can order the most expensive item on the menu for me.”
Olivia slid her cell phone into her pants pocket and followed Maddie into the store. She saw five customers on the floor. A sixth person was making a dramatic entrance, though Olivia doubted she was there to buy anything. Lenora Bouchenbein—stage name, Lenora Dove—rarely spent her own money, even on personal essentials. When she did, it was only because she couldn’t con anyone else into subsidizing her. To be fair, Lenora had very little income of her own. After a short stint as a Hollywood starlet, Lenora had married the late Bernie Bouchenbein, who was, at the time, a well-known Hollywood producer. The couple managed to burn through the substantial number of pennies Bernie had earned over the course of a long career. Since Bernie’s death, Lenora had subsisted on her husband’s Social Security income, which wasn’t nearly enough to support the lifestyle to which she felt entitled. So Lenora left Hollywood and deposited herself on the doorstep of her nephew, Herbie Tucker; his wife, Gwen; and their toddler son. The Tuckers, both
veterinarians, owned an ever-expanding no-kill animal shelter. Chatterley Paws already housed dozens of homeless cats, dogs, horses, rabbits, and other strays, so Lenora fit right in.
Maddie shot Olivia a look that said, Lenora is all yours. With a silent sigh, Olivia accepted her assignment. She had no choice. Lenora was already heading in her direction.
“Livie, my dear.” Lenora’s bony arms flew out in a theatrical gesture that nearly decked a nearby customer. “Isn’t it all simply too exciting for words?”
Olivia waited, certain that Lenora would find those words without difficulty.
“Bones in the wall.” Lenora shivered with delight. “So thrilling! I feel as if I’ve entered a Thin Man movie. Myrna Loy is gone now, poor dear, so naturally I would be playing the role of Nora Charles.” Lenora closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around her own thin chest.
Intuition and experience warned Olivia to jump in before Lenora could begin reciting dialogue from a Thin Man movie. “Lenora, how kind of you to drop by. Let’s have a cookie and a cup of coffee, shall we?” Olivia grabbed Lenora by one sharp elbow and steered her toward the treats table.
Lenora’s eyes widened. “Oh, I really shouldn’t,” she said. “I must watch my figure for the sake of my acting career.”
“But you mustn’t become too thin,” Olivia said as she piled three cookies on a plate and handed it to Lenora. “It’s important to have a feminine figure. I’m sure Myrna would agree with me.”
Lenora accepted the plate of cookies. “Myrna did have a lovely figure,” she said, “though she was, of course, bigger boned than I, so she could afford to eat more heartily. Which reminds me, Livie, perhaps you and I ought to have a little chat about this topic with Maddie, don’t you think?”
“With Maddie?” Olivia’s cookie hand halted on its way to her mouth. “I don’t understand.”
“Oh, surely you’ve noticed,” Lenora said. “Doesn’t Maddie’s outfit seem rather tight today? I’m afraid she has been putting on weight since her marriage. Marriage can be so damaging to the figure. I escaped only because I was blessed with such a tiny appetite.”
Olivia bit into her cookie to give herself time to think. She glanced across the sales floor at Maddie, who looked stunning in wool pants the color of raspberry-tinged chocolate, a thin matching sweater, and an emerald green scarf that reflected the color of her eyes. The outfit gently hugged her curvy body. Earlier that morning, several men, curious about the discovery of bones in an old flophouse, had accompanied their wives or girlfriends to The Gingerbread House. Olivia had noticed at least one of those men following Maddie with his eyes.
“Oh well,” Lenora said, “Maddie is lucky. She isn’t an actress, so she doesn’t have to worry about looking plump in publicity photos. The acting life is terribly demanding, you know.” Lenora heaved a sigh as she finished off her third cookie. “Yet the theater is so essential to the development of true culture, as I’m sure you agree. And that, my dear, is why we must talk.”
“Talk?” Olivia found herself scanning the store for escape routes. “Well, I do have to work, but perhaps later . . .”
“We’ll have a private little chat,” Lenora said as she swept the last cookie crumbs from the treats plate and popped them into her mouth. “This needs refilling, anyway.” She picked up the plate and marched into the kitchen.
Olivia checked the time on her cell phone. She had about twenty minutes before she needed to leave for the Chatterley Café to meet Del for lunch. The Gingerbread House was nearly empty. Olivia waved across the sales floor to Maddie, who had just finished helping a customer.
Maddie nodded and joined Olivia at the treats table. “I assume you’re volunteering to replenish the cookie supply,” Maddie said. “Or was Lenora so desperate for more free food that she decided to do it herself?”
“Lenora has something on her mind,” Olivia said. “She ordered me to follow her into the kitchen.”
“Scary.”
“I’m thinking of escaping while I can.” Olivia glanced around the sales floor. “Our last customer is heading for the door . . . Maybe I could—” She cringed as she heard the kitchen door swish behind her.
“Livie, my dear, I’m waiting,” Lenora said.
“I’ll mind the store.” Maddie smiled as she patted Olivia’s shoulder.
“Lucky you. Promise you’ll come get me in fifteen minutes,” Olivia whispered, “or I swear I’ll—”
“I won’t let you miss lunch with Del,” Maddie said. “Now grit your teeth and go.”
Olivia opened the kitchen door to find Lenora teetering on a chair as she reached across the top of the refrigerator for a covered cake pan filled with cookies. As she lifted the pan, Lenora twisted her head toward the kitchen door and began to wobble. Olivia rushed over to steady her, saving the pan as it slipped from Lenora’s hand.
“You were taking such a long time,” Lenora said with a petulant frown. “I decided to prepare refreshments for our chat.
“Let me help you down.” Olivia cupped Lenora’s elbow to steady her.
“Oh dear,” Lenora said, “I do wish a strong, kind man were here to assist me.” As Lenora stumbled her way down, Olivia caught a whiff of alcohol on her breath. She remembered at once that Maddie, in a burst of creative enthusiasm, had added sherry to some drop cookies they’d baked for a recent special event. They had stored the opened sherry bottle on top of the refrigerator, toward the back, and forgotten about it. As everyone in Chatterley Heights had learned by now, Lenora was a bit too fond of wine.
“I’ll make us some fresh coffee,” Olivia said. “Meanwhile, help yourself to a cookie.”
“Oh, I really shouldn’t.” Lenora opened the cake pan and selected two cookies. “Now, Livie, while you prepare the coffee, I will explain the plan to you.”
The plan? Olivia braced herself.
“I’m afraid we must take your mother in hand, Livie,” Lenora said.
My mother? The epitome of empathy, competence, and tranquility? Olivia filled Mr. Coffee’s basket with fresh ground coffee.
“Ellie is a dear, of course,” Lenora said, “but I’m afraid she lacks an expansive vision. Her little plans for a craft school are so . . . well, little. It isn’t her fault, poor thing. She has lived too long in a small town. The imagination becomes stilted in such a limiting environment. I’ve offered to help her think on a grander scale, but she doesn’t seem to grasp my meaning. So sad.”
Olivia clamped her mouth shut as she carried two cups of coffee to the kitchen table. She placed the cream and sugar next to Lenora’s cup.
“Thank you, Livie, my dear. Of course, I use only the merest hint of cream and sugar,” Lenora murmured as she added a heaping teaspoon of sugar to her cup, followed by a generous dollop of cream. “I am so tiny, I must be careful to keep my calories to a minimum.”
Olivia eyed the kitchen clock, wishing time would move faster. “You mentioned a plan, Lenora? Does it concern the craft school?”
Lenora arched her thin, penciled eyebrows. “Really, Livie, I thought you would understand. We simply must stop calling it an arts and crafts school. I’ve settled on a more descriptive and elegant name. I will call it The Chatterley Heights Academy for the Arts. Naturally, the school will showcase the highest and most essential of the arts—which is, of course, acting. The theater. The entire ground floor of the building will be devoted to a state-of-the-art theater, one that will attract the greatest performing talents in the nation, perhaps even the world. I know many of them personally, so I will have no trouble enticing them to come here to perform.”
Once again, Olivia checked the clock. She still had time to knock some sense into Lenora. “The arts and crafts school is my mother’s dream,” Olivia said. “We, by which I mean all of us, must understand and respect that.”
“Of course I understand, Livie. You feel loyal to your mother. But really
, it’s such a little dream.”
Olivia gulped her coffee and swallowed her anger. “Lenora, what you need to grasp is that my mother is in full charge of the project. Calliope is fronting the entire cost of renovating the building and is paying the workers from her own private funds. Mom and Calliope are a team. I’m afraid you and I don’t really have a say in how the building will be used. Neither of us can offer anything of substantive value to the project.”
With a light laugh, Lenora touched Olivia’s arm. “Dear Livie, of course we can offer something of value, enormous value. Or rather, I can, although you and Maddie have certainly provided . . . well, kitchen help. And lovely cookies, of course. Now, Livie, you haven’t yet heard the best part of my plan. As a well-known star of stage and screen, I am able to attract the most talented actors to Chatterley Heights. Audiences will flock to our little town, and the proceeds will quickly pay for the building and the renovation, so no one will feel beholden to Calliope. You must admit that woman is rather odd.” Lenora took a delicate sip of coffee, and said, “I’ve already begun the process by writing a play.”
Olivia couldn’t help herself. “You’ve written a whole play?”
“Well, I sketched it out,” Lenora said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “I felt inspired. The discovery of those bones gave me the brilliant idea of basing my play on our very own Chatterley Heights mystery. There really isn’t much to writing a play, anyway. It’s the actors who truly bring life to a story.” With a graceful flick of one bony finger, Lenora brushed a cookie crumb from her arm. “Don’t you see, Livie? Those bones may have historical significance. People will be so curious about them. I’ve come up with a scintillating title—The Bones in the Wall. Doesn’t that send a chill down your spine? My play will become known far and wide. It will make our little town the talk of Hollywood.”
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