One Dead Cookie

by Virginia Lowell

  “Now I’m curious,” Dougie said with a good-natured grin. “Ask away.”

  Olivia didn’t want to ask outright about their relationship, so she chose a less direct approach. “Trevor implied that you help him navigate interactions with the public. Are you his…manager?”

  “In a manner of speaking,” Dougie said with a rueful laugh. “And in answer to your cleverly concealed question, we are no more than friends. Between us we have three former wives. Trevor lost his two by cheating on them, starting with the maids of honor at both weddings, and I’m still in love with mine.”

  Olivia glanced over at Trevor, who was discussing with Lenora the energy-draining qualities of sugar. “I’ve only just met Trevor, but he does seem hard to manage.”

  “He is, believe me. Trevor can be charming, funny, rude, you name it. He’s actually quite a good actor. He really belongs on Broadway, but he’s stuck in daytime drama. That’s where the steady money is.”

  “So you’re his agent?”

  “No, Trevor’s got an agent, for all the good it does him. I’m his writer.”

  “He has his own writer?”

  “He does. You’d be surprised how much writing Trevor is expected to do on his own, and it isn’t his thing. He’s great at extemporaneous speaking, but having to put pen to paper or fingers to keyboard…well, the very thought enervates him. And you saw what he’s like when he needs a nap. So he does the speaking, and I do the writing. I answer his fan mail and email. I deal with his stalkers. I write his press releases, charming and witty answers to interview questions, blog posts, tweets, you name it.”

  As the sugar forum came to a close, Trevor called across the kitchen to Dougie, “You might have to carry me to Lenora’s place. I’m dead on my feet.”

  “And sometimes I’m his muscle,” Dougie said quietly as he nodded toward Trevor. “I do what needs to be done.”

  Chapter Seven

  Olivia and Bertha spent over an hour putting The Gingerbread House back together after the hordes of fanatic Trevor Lane fans departed. By the time Olivia untangled the last cookie cutter mobile, it was time to close the store. During the reconstruction, only two people walked through the front door. Both of them left as soon as Bertha informed them that Trevor Lane was long gone. No one asked about Dougie Adair. Olivia wondered if Dougie resented his invisible status…or if he preferred it that way.

  The one person Olivia hadn’t heard from was Jennifer Elsworth. Bertha and Olivia had taken turns calling Jennifer’s cell from the kitchen phone, but their calls all went directly to voice mail. “You go on home, Bertha,” Olivia said. “I’ll reconcile the receipts, since there aren’t very many.”

  “I feel so bad for you, Livie.” Bertha removed her embroidered apron, which depicted two little gingerbread girls joyfully swinging on a vine over a lake. When she’d bought the apron, Bertha had said, “You wouldn’t think it to look at me now, but I was a daredevil as a little girl.”

  Maddie’s aunt Sadie had proposed the idea for a series of aprons based on The Gingerbread House logo, which featured tumbling gingerbread men, women, and children. Using exotic colors and a touch of humor, Aunt Sadie continued to create endless variations on the original theme. Her most recent batch depicted gingerbread boys and girls having fun in serious adult jobs. The aprons all sold quickly.

  “I do hope nothing has happened to Jennifer,” Bertha said as she headed toward the front door. “You hear such terrible stories about folks dying in car crashes while they are rushing off to be with sick family members. It’s just not fair. But we’ll hope for the best. Now, Livie, if you need me to fill in tomorrow, don’t hesitate to call. Dear Willard and I are planning to meet for lunch, but otherwise…”

  “I can’t believe Jennifer won’t try to contact us before tomorrow. I’ll let you know, and many thanks for your flexibility. If we keep having sales days like this one, we won’t need any staff at all.” Olivia locked the front door behind Bertha and gravitated toward the kitchen, from which luscious aromas drifted. As she opened the kitchen door, the phone rang.

  At the kitchen table, Maddie swayed to her earbuds, oblivious to the ringing. Wielding a pastry bag, she squiggled purple icing down the sides of a wedding cake cutout cookie. She glanced up, startled, as Olivia lunged for the phone.

  “Livie?” It was Del’s voice. “Is that you breathing heavily?”

  “Sorry to disappoint you, Del, but I tripped over a chair trying to reach the phone. I thought it might be Jennifer.”

  “Jennifer?”

  “Our new clerk. You met her briefly,” Olivia said. “She’s the attractive younger woman you dumped me for, remember?”

  Del responded with a reassuring chuckle.

  “Frankly, if we don’t hear from her soon, she’ll be our former clerk,” Olivia said. “You haven’t heard anything about an accident involving a young woman, have you?”

  “Nope, haven’t heard about any accidents today, but I’ll keep my ears open. Maybe her car broke down. Or she ran over her phone.”

  “You’re making excuses for Jennifer because you thought she was cute,” Olivia said. “Or that’s what Sam Parnell said. So if that’s why you’re calling…”

  Del heaved an exaggerated sigh. “Poor old Snoopy. He keeps forgetting I carry a loaded gun. Anyway, that’s not why I called. I thought you might want to eat this evening.”

  “The thought had occurred to me,” Olivia said. “I did miss lunch. Only I have to bake and decorate some very special cookies before Saturday, and I seem to be down a staff member. It’s been quite a day.”

  “So I heard,” Del said. “Hollywood and the paparazzi converge in the quaint little Gingerbread House. It has the makings of a murder mystery.”

  “Don’t even think it.” Olivia glanced up at the kitchen clock. “I don’t know about dinner. There’s just so much work—” Maddie put down her pastry bag and began waving at Olivia with both hands. “Hang on a moment, Del. Maddie seems to be having a seizure.” Olivia held the telephone receiver against her shoulder.

  “Okay, here’s an idea,” Maddie said. “Abbreviated version. You are stressed, which makes me and many others crazy. So go have a quick meal with Del, maybe for an hour or so. I’m nearly finished with this last batch of extra cookies for Saturday. Then I’ll work on the recipes for the special cookies. Tell me the flavors you want to use, and let me take a crack at the early experimentation. Don’t give me that look, Livie. It’s my engagement party, so I get a say. I don’t care if your creations are a surprise. I’d much rather join in the fun of making them. Well?”

  Olivia hesitated for a moment before shrugging her shoulders. “I don’t know. I love baking with Mom, like when I was a kid. On the other hand, I am feeling pressured and cranky, which stresses Mom…and she is missing her yoga classes to help me.”

  With a sage nod, Maddie said, “Now see, that’s a setup for disaster.”

  Olivia heard a squawking noise close to her ear. “Oops. Sorry, Del. Heavy negotiations going on here. Yes, dinner now, Pete’s Diner. See you in five.” Olivia hung up, and said, “Okay, you win. I could use some help creating cookie recipes with lavender-lemon and rosewater-lemon.” Olivia grinned at Maddie. “Me, businesswoman; you, cookie genius.”

  “There,” Maddie said. “Don’t you feel better? Now scram and let me concentrate.” She reinserted her earbuds and squirted a tiny pink flower on a wedding-cake cookie.

  * * *

  As Olivia entered Pete’s Diner, she felt calmer than she had in days. She spotted Del at a table by the front window. In place of his uniform, he wore dark brown slacks and a crisp tan shirt. His uniform hat usually left a dent in his light brown hair, but now it hung straight over his eyes as he scanned the menu. He must have showered before meeting her. When Del looked up and saw her, his face lit with pleasure. Olivia was finding it harder and harder to remember that he could be downright irritating at times. “Hi there,” she said. “Catch any bad guys lately?”

&nb
sp; “Well, I did stop a fellow driving a Lexus erratically through the north end of town. He kept drifting into the oncoming lane.”

  “Drugs?” Olivia asked. “Or was he drunk?”

  “Texting.” Del handed a ketchup-stained menu to Olivia.

  “Young people these days,” Olivia said, shaking her head.

  “He was thirty-six. Oh, and the car was a rental. Good-looking guy, a bit arrogant, said something about needing to reassure his fans that he’d be back, whatever that means.”

  “You’re teasing me, right?” Olivia’s menu dropped onto the table. “You did not stop Trevor Lane for texting.”

  “I did.” Del grinned at her. “I don’t understand what women see in him. He struck me as kind of a self-obsessed jerk.”

  “Don’t look at me, he isn’t my type. Though he is handsome and famous, and he probably knows people who know people. Lots of women go for that.” Olivia paused before adding, “Not me, of course.”

  Ida appeared at their table and plunked down two plastic tumblers of merlot. Her unruly gray hair was pinned back in a tight bun and free of her usual hairnet, so she wasn’t on cook duty. “Real cops drink beer,” Ida said. “I can give you a deal on the meatloaf and mashed potatoes, two for one. A certain cook, not me, made too much of the stuff. All I gotta do is slap it on a couple plates. How about three for the price of one? You could take some home for breakfast tomorrow morning.”

  “Sounds good to me.” Olivia loved Pete’s meatloaf, especially for breakfast.

  “Done.” Del handed the menus to Ida, who heaved a weary sigh and shuffled off to deliver the order.

  “So I hear you had an exciting afternoon,” Del said.

  Olivia sipped her merlot. Despite the presentation, the wine was excellent. “Exciting isn’t the word I’d choose. Exhausting, frustrating, expensive…yet interesting. Del, when did you stop Trevor Lane?”

  “About half an hour ago.”

  “And was he alone in the car?”

  “Yes. Why?

  Ida plunked down three plates filled to capacity with hunks of meatloaf and piles of mashed potatoes. Olivia estimated each plate held about four portions.

  “Pete said to get rid of the stuff before it gets old,” Ida said. “All for the price of one. He fired the cook, so don’t go expecting anything like this again.”

  When Ida was out of earshot, Olivia said, “Trevor has a sort of bodyguard/handler/writer/companion named Dougie Adair traveling with him. Lots of muscles. I got the impression it was part of his job to keep Trevor out of trouble. I don’t suppose you got a look at who he was texting?”

  “Well, Livie, there’s this little thing called a subpoena. I didn’t really have any reason to ask for one. I explained to Mr. Lane that in Maryland it’s illegal to text and drive, but I let him off with a warning, since he was from out of state. He was suitably contrite, and I let him go. I watched him drive off in an impressively straight line at an appropriate speed.” Del took a generous bite of meatloaf and washed it down with merlot.

  “How disappointingly lenient of you,” Olivia said. “I’d love to know who Trevor was texting.”

  “Why?” Del used his spoon to capture a large hunk of mashed potatoes, poured sauce on top, and shoveled the mixture into his mouth.

  “Show-off.” With exaggerated delicacy, Olivia ate a small bite of her meatloaf. “Did you know you’ve got tomato sauce dribbling down your chin?”

  Del grunted and swiped his chin with his napkin. “Thanks. About your interest in Trevor Lane’s texting behavior, is it just prurient curiosity, or are you suspicious of him for some reason?”

  “I’m not sure I’d call it suspicion, but…Del, does it strike you as odd that Trevor Lane—well-known star of stage, screen, and daytime drama—suddenly decided to visit little Chatterley Heights, Maryland, bringing along his entourage of one? Yes, I know they both grew up in Twiterton, so why not stay somewhere there? Why stay out at Chatterley Paws with an aging, unsuccessful actress and two people they don’t know, not to mention a baby, plus animals everywhere? They haven’t seen Lenora in years. From what I’ve observed, they barely tolerate her. Let’s face it, Lenora is one of us, we love her, but she’s a bit, well…”

  “Bizarre?” Del pushed his plate aside and drained his tumbler of wine.

  “Irritating,” Olivia said. “Maybe I’m building a case out of imagined connections. Or a cake out of cookies, which is what I’m supposed to be doing right now.” Olivia glanced up at Pete’s bird-call clock. “The Cooper’s hawk is about to strike seven.”

  As Olivia finished her merlot, Ida appeared at their table and nodded at the empty tumbler. “You want another one of those?” When Olivia declined, Ida said, “We got cherry pie for dessert. Want any?”

  “Too full, but thanks.”

  “Pete said it’s on the house for you two. I’ll make ’em to go, along with this stuff.” Ida picked up the leftover meatloaf and left.

  “Have I mentioned how much I love dating a cop?” Olivia asked. “I get free food.”

  “I thought it was the free coffee you loved, but you’re welcome.”

  “Tell me honestly, Del, has past experience made me too suspicious? About Trevor and Dougie, I mean.”

  Del shrugged. “Livie, I’m trained to be suspicious, only we like to think of it as keeping our eyes open. On the other hand, it wouldn’t hurt to look into Trevor’s and Dougie’s backgrounds a bit, especially since their arrival comes close on the heels of a break-in at Lady Chatterley’s and the attack on a bank manager.”

  “Good idea. Unless there’s something I should know about, I’ll understand if you don’t share what you find.” Maddie can probably dig up the same information, anyway.

  Del’s cell phone rang. He checked the caller ID and answered at once. “Maddie? You okay?” As he listened, Del’s expression relaxed. “Yeah, she can be forgetful, but she’s got her good qualities. Hang on.” As he handed his cell to Olivia, Del said, “Apparently you are once again not responding to your cell, or it’s dead, or you are still mad about having to go to chapel or something.”

  Olivia groaned and took the phone. “Maddie, I am not now, nor have I recently been, mad at you. I left my cell to recharge at my apartment. What’s up?”

  “Jennifer is back.”

  “And what does Jennifer have to say for herself?” Olivia glanced at Del, who looked puzzled and interested.

  “You’re going to be mad at me,” Maddie said.

  “Maddie, please, what’s going on?”

  “Jennifer is really, truly upset. I know this sounds like the kind of excuse a kid would give a teacher—you know, like the dog ate my homework, or I didn’t finish my paper because my grandmother died, sniffle, sniffle.”

  “Jennifer’s grandmother died? Maddie, don’t make me work so hard.”

  “Okay, Jennifer told me her aunt suddenly got sick and called her from someplace in DC, where she lives…lived. Anyway, that’s why Jennifer ran off so fast this morning. She couldn’t convince her aunt to call her doctor. Then Jennifer got to worrying and tried to call her aunt back but got no answer, so she just took off in a panic.”

  “Jennifer didn’t think to call a neighbor or even the police?” Olivia asked. Del’s eyebrows shot up, but he didn’t interrupt.

  “Panic is like that, I guess,” Maddie said. “Jennifer said she found her aunt weak and feeling awful, so she took her to the emergency room. They were concerned enough to admit her to the hospital for observation. Jennifer drove right back here and came to work. She said everyone was busy then, so she figured she’d explain when things got quieter. Then she got a call from the hospital that her aunt was going downhill fast, so she took off again.”

  “So did her aunt rally?” Olivia asked.

  “Well, no. She died. Jennifer was really broken up about it. She said this aunt was her last living relative and practically raised her. I guess I felt a lot of sympathy because of Aunt Sadie. I’d have been an orphan at ten
if Aunt Sadie hadn’t taken me in when my mom and dad died.”

  “Maddie, you know I understand. Why did you think I’d be mad at you?”

  “Well, I told Jennifer she could keep her job.”

  “I’m fine with that,” Olivia said. “We have no evidence Jennifer has been lying to us. Not yet, anyway. I’ll be back soon, but first that poor pooch of mine needs attention. All he’s gotten today are a couple quick visits to the backyard and extra guilt-induced treats. I’ll take him on a quick run, and then we can start baking up a storm.”

  “Great!” Maddie sounded more like her hyper-enthusiastic self again. “Although I’ve already gotten a head start on the baking. You know me, can’t keep my hands away from cookie dough.”

  “I do have a favor to ask, if you need a break soon.” Olivia sneaked a glance at Del, who was checking his voice mail and text messages. “Would you use your magic computer fingers to do a little research for me? I’d really like to know more about our new employee. And maybe our other newcomers.” Del looked up from his cell phone, gave Olivia a quick smile, and went back to reading his messages.

  “You really do suspect Jennifer is lying, don’t you?” Maddie’s curiosity had reasserted itself.

  “I think things aren’t adding up, that’s all. It’s probably not a big deal. I mean, it’s not as if there’s been a murder.”

  Chapter Eight

  Olivia heard Spunky whine as she slid the key into the lock of her apartment door. She prepared herself to intercept a five-pound missile. Spunky burst through the opening and right into Olivia’s arms.

  “Gotcha!” Holding tight to the squirming Yorkie, Olivia pushed into her apartment and closed the door with her backside. “I’m getting good at this, aren’t I, Spunks?”