One Dead Cookie

by Virginia Lowell

  A sliver of light under the kitchen door told her that Maddie was still working. Good. Between the two of them, maybe they could finish the cookies in record time. Olivia had promised Stacey she would do what she could to clear Wade of murder, and she intended to try.

  “One of my dumber promises,” Olivia said to her sleepy Yorkie as she nestled him on the soft, embroidered seat of his favorite chair. With a whimpering sigh, Spunky collapsed in a tired heap. “When all this excitement is over, you need a trim.” Olivia stroked the silky hair cascading over his eyes. “Get some rest, little one. I may be needing your fierce protection.”

  The kitchen door opened, and Maddie poked her head around the edge. She looked entirely too alert. “Hey, you’re back. How’s Stacey holding up? Has Del arrested Binnie yet?”

  “For what? Evil blogging?”

  “One can dream. I saw what Binnie wrote about us. She sure knows how to have a good time at our expense…or at your expense, to be more accurate.” Maddie held the kitchen door open, releasing a strong whiff of lemon blended with a subtler flowery fragrance.

  “Sorry I was gone so long,” Olivia said. “Have you been working all this time?”

  “I don’t think of baking as work, Livie. Cookies are my canvas, and icing is my paint. Plus, decorated cookies taste good, so there’s really no downside.”

  “Wow, you’ve been…” Olivia gazed in awe at the scene in the kitchen. Decorated cookies covered the worktable, the counter, the chair seats, even her little desk. When she’d run out of cooling racks, Maddie had spread the cookies on whatever she could find: cake pans, lids, even kitchen towels. The kitchen looked like a huge abstract painting covered with swaths of yellow, purple, and red, in every conceivable shade. The sweet, flowery scent of a garden in full bloom swirled around the kitchen. Olivia felt deliciously light-headed…and hungry.

  “I’ve been what?” Maddie prodded. “On fire with creative genius? Gloriously imaginative? The van Gogh of the cookie world?”

  “I was going to say you’ve been busy.” Olivia felt the need to sit down, but all the chairs were occupied with cookies.

  “Well, that’s true, though disappointingly prosaic,” Maddie said. “Jennifer met the challenge and found all the ingredients we needed. I was inspired to get the baking out of the way, so we could move on to other fascinating pursuits.”

  “Such as your engagement party?”

  “Well, that, too. I was thinking of the hunt for Trevor Lane’s killer. Not so much for Wade’s sake, but for Stacey’s peace of mind, not to mention her child support checks. Before you fill me in,” she said, “did you read all of Binnie’s latest blog or just the highlights?”

  “All of it, as did Allan and my mom. I’m not worried. Binnie had to go so far out of her way to implicate me in Trevor’s murder, I doubt anyone will take it seriously.”

  Maddie lifted a cake pan of cookies off a chair so Olivia could sit down. “Don’t count on that,” she said. “Chatterley Heights is well supplied with gullible, gossipy citizens.” Maddie opened a storage cupboard and shoved the pan on top of a folded pile of aprons.

  “Are those new embroidered aprons from Aunt Sadie?” Olivia asked.

  “No, just a few from her last batch. I forgot where I’d stored them. I’ll put them out on the sales floor tomorrow.”

  “Hand them to me, will you?”

  “Livie, I’ll agree that Aunt Sadie’s aprons are stunning, and they sell quickly for amazing prices, but right now we have other—”

  “Just let me see them, okay? I want to check something.”

  Maddie lifted up the pan of cookies and pulled the aprons off the shelf. “You’ll have to put them back when you’re finished. Or we could put them out right now. They are already tagged.”

  While Olivia looked through the small pile of embroidered aprons, Maddie opened the lid of her computer to awaken it. She pulled out the chair from under the desk and found yet another pan of cookies. Unable to find a spot for it, she sat down and balanced the pan on her lap. “The computer is open for business,” she announced. When Olivia didn’t respond, Maddie twisted in her seat and said, “Earth to Livie, we don’t have all night. Well, actually, we do, but eventually we’ll have to open the store, and I’d like to clean up the kitchen and maybe have a shower before…Livie? Are you okay?”

  “Hmm? Oh, sorry, I was lost in speculation, probably pointless. Did the other aprons from this batch sell already?”

  “No, why?”

  Olivia opened up the top apron and spread it on her lap. The embroidered scene depicted a cocky gingerbread girl with puffy red braids. She was dressed as a lumberjack, held an axe, and stood next to a partially cut tree.

  “Oh, I love that one,” Maddie said. “Aunt Sadie named it the Lumberjill and said I was her model. Put that aside; I want to buy it.”

  “The scenes on the aprons all related to professions, right? I remember one was in a courtroom. There was a gingerbread judge in robes, and he was—”

  With a squeal, Maddie said, “I remember that one, too. I don’t know why it hasn’t sold yet. It was a hilarious courtroom scene. There was a jury of gingerbread men and women all dancing around, and the judge was holding a gavel in the air, trying to call the court to order. Hey, you don’t suppose Trevor’s killer got the gavel idea from that apron, do you? That means we’re looking for a woman.”

  “Slow down a bit.” Olivia folded the Lumberjill apron and handed it to Maddie. “The store was packed when Trevor, Dougie, and Lenora made their appearance. Granted the audience was mostly women, but I noticed some men, too. Anyone could have seen that apron. Now, if we could track down the gavel cookie cutter, that might lead us somewhere. I know we’ve never carried one in the store.”

  Maddie sighed. “Jennifer’s into cookie cutters, and she would certainly have seen the apron. I sure hope the murderer isn’t Jennifer. She’s a fabulous clerk. I mean, let’s face it: neither of us could sell that red mixer. And she found all the ingredients we asked for in record time.”

  “Jennifer is very talented,” Olivia said, “which is no guarantee of innocence. Let’s leave our new employee for later. Right now, we don’t have any reason to connect her with the murder except that her behavior has been a bit odd at times.”

  Maddie reawakened her computer, which had drifted off while they talked about aprons. “Okay, whither should my fingers goeth?”

  “Let’s try Howie Upton,” Olivia said. “He seems to have held quite a grudge against Trevor since high school. He hasn’t been very successful for a child genius, which might explain why he can’t let go of the past.”

  “Okay, this could take a while,” Maddie said. “I’m going to check professional and social network sites. Howie strikes me as someone who might use the Internet to provide himself with a social life. He can be anyone he wants online, but if he uses his own name, I’ll find him.”

  While Maddie tapped away, Olivia began to pack up the finished cookies. Many were dry enough to layer in cake pans, which she stacked one on top of another. She had cleared half the table before she began to tire. The remaining cookies were either still cooling, or the icing hadn’t hardened yet. Olivia pulled up a kitchen chair, rested her feet on another, and relaxed. Within moments, her head drooped forward as she drifted toward a lavender, rose, and lemon nap.

  “Yes!” Maddie announced at full volume. “I am Queen of the Internet!”

  Olivia jerked awake and her feet slipped off their perch. Her chair began to wobble backward. She grabbed for the table edge but missed. Hearing sounds behind her, Maddie spun around and caught the chair before it reached the point of no return. “Whew,” Maddie said. “Talk about a close call.” She righted the chair while Olivia clutched the table edge to help pull herself upright.

  “Maybe you should take a nap upstairs,” Maddie suggested. “In your own bed. At least, I assume you don’t fall out of bed often.”

  “Not more than once a week,” Olivia said. “Have you f
ound anything interesting about Howie Upton?”

  “Interesting, yes.” Maddie righted the kitchen chair Olivia had pushed over with her feet. “He seems to have trouble with women.”

  “Not surprising. What kind of trouble?”

  “They don’t like him.” Maddie settled in front of her computer again and awakened the screen. “In fact, one woman complained quite vocally about his ‘clodishness.’ Is that even a word?”

  “Maddie, you didn’t hack into his email, did you?”

  “Don’t fuss, Livie. Hardly anyone is as easy to hack as you are, especially a child mathematics prodigy who works in a bank. By the way, you have an email from Del. It’s time sensitive, so you might want to read it soon. Anyway, I found plenty of posts from Howie on a variety of blogs, plus a number of my own local Facebook friends allowed Howie to become their friends, a decision many of them are reconsidering.”

  “Wait, back up.” Olivia leaned against the counter so she could face Maddie. “You hacked into my email and read a message from Del? That’s going too far, even between best friends since age ten. This has got to stop.”

  “I’ve tried, Livie, I really have, but it’s such fun to crack a password that’s in French. It lightens the terrible psychological burden I carry from that D in high school French. Besides, would you have checked your email before morning?”

  “Probably not, but—”

  “Then I rest my case,” Maddie said. “I might add that it’s sort of inconsistent to get mad at me for hacking you when you’re always encouraging me to hack other people.”

  “That’s hacking for the greater good,” Olivia said. “It’s important.”

  “So is your love life. Read Del’s email.”

  “Fine,” Olivia said. “You clean the kitchen.” She took Maddie’s place at the computer, and read:

  Livie, I hope you’re getting some sleep, but knowing you two, you’re baking, so maybe you’ll get this in time. Any chance we could meet at the Chatterley Café early for breakfast? I have to meet the medical examiner at nine a.m., so I should leave town by eight. Could you make 6:30? I miss you. Del

  Olivia checked the clock over the sink. “It’s about two a.m.,” she said. “That should leave plenty of time for more hacking…I mean investigation. To be followed by a nap, and a shower.”

  “If you’re worried about the timing,” Maddie said, “I can clean up. I’ll open in the morning, too. Bertha and Jennifer both agreed to be here by eight thirty to help handle the curious crowd we can expect by opening time.”

  “Del has to leave the restaurant by eight, so I’ll be back in time for opening.” Much as Olivia wanted to see Del, at the moment she was more interested in what he might be willing to tell her about Trevor Lane’s murder and the evidence against Wade Harald. Olivia wrote a quick acceptance for breakfast and hit send. “Okay, breakfast with Del is a go.”

  “Excellent.” Maddie punched the on button for the dishwasher. “Shall we begin with my summary of the Howie Upton hack—? Sorry, ‘investigation’ has too many participles.”

  “Syllables. Could we move on to Howie?”

  Maddie threw a wet towel at Olivia. “Isn’t this fun? Okay, on to Howie Upton. I found a blog all women should know about, devoted to warnings about men. It’s for women only. You have to sign in to access it, so first you have to answer some questions and give an email address that can be traced back to a person. Obviously, a male hacker could get in without breaking a sweat, but the real purpose of the blog isn’t obvious unless you’re in. Apparently, the women are keeping the secret pretty well. My guess is they’ve got several members who are electronic geniuses, so…”

  Olivia cleared her throat.

  “Right, interesting but not relevant,” Maddie said. “The bloggers all use aliases, but they don’t hesitate to name names. Howie Upton came up several times, and never in a good way.”

  “Any indication that he’s violent?” Olivia asked.

  “Not physically, no. One woman called Howie ‘self-obsessed’ and ‘arrogant,’ but we knew that. He doesn’t like to be rejected, but who does? The most interesting entries came from a woman who said she dated him for about four months before breaking off with him.

  “During the time they were together, she said, Howie seemed to change. At first, he acted attentive and confident. He complimented her, brought her gifts, and so on. Then he started taking her for granted. Worst of all, she said Howie seemed obsessed with hatred for other men. He kept pointing out how stupid they were, or that they didn’t deserve the attention they got from women. The blogger finally broke off the relationship when Howie began criticizing her own older brother, who she loved dearly.”

  “Sounds like our Howie,” Olivia said. “Although, when it comes to nasty comments, Trevor was the clear winner. Howie and Dougie were his victims.”

  Olivia’s mind was spinning with ideas, though the rest of her had begun to wilt. “That makes me wonder if Trevor was the original source of Howie’s anger issues with other men. Maybe he fell back into the victim role around Trevor.”

  “Which is, of course, pure speculation,” Maddie said. “Not that I myself don’t indulge in the purest of speculation from time to time. For instance, maybe Howie’s father was hypercritical, and men like Trevor remind him of daddy. Or was that over-the-top Freudian?”

  “Don’t ask me. All I can do is add and subtract.” Olivia brushed her tangled hair back from her forehead and wondered if she’d have time to wash it before breakfast. “I’m convinced Howie hated Trevor, that’s what counts. Although it isn’t enough to accuse him of murder. What we need are some solid motives. Did you find anything that might explain why Howie hasn’t achieved the career heights he seemed destined for?”

  “So glad you asked that, Livie. I don’t yet have the absolute, most final answer to that question. However, I did happen on a few mentions of the name Howie Upton in connection with an investment-banking firm in DC. Howie was at one time an up-and-coming investment banker. Then he fell off the radar. I am highly motivated to find out why.”

  “Good.” Focused on her next step in the investigation, Olivia picked up Maddie’s wet towel and began to fold it. “I’ll email Allan. Maybe he has some DC financial-type buddies he could tap for information. Allan loves building businesses on his own, but he makes friends easily. He might be able to find out if Howie was simply laid off from his investment-banking job—as in ‘last hired, first fired’—or if he was let go for something worse.”

  “I’m rooting for something worse.” Maddie stood up and stretched her arms toward the ceiling. “Meanwhile, it’s past three a.m. I’m ready to close up shop, and you, my friend, could use some sleep. You need to be on your toes by six thirty a.m., so you can wheedle classified information out of Del.”

  “Sounds like an excellent plan. I’ll shoot an email to Allan before I head upstairs. Maybe I can wake up in time to wash my hair, too.”

  “I didn’t want to say anything, but…” Maddie jumped aside just in time to avoid being winged by a wet towel.

  * * *

  Olivia thought fondly of her bed as she closed the kitchen door behind her. She could navigate her way across the sales floor, thanks to the streetlamp positioned outside the front window, but why take the chance of tripping over a table leg? As she reached toward the light switch, her hand froze. She didn’t see Spunky’s furry form curled up in his chair.

  “Spunky?” Olivia whispered. He couldn’t have gone far. “Where are you, Spunks? Time to wake up so we can go to bed.”

  A faint clicking sound brought Olivia’s attention to the front window. Spunky’s nails needed cutting. He must be hidden behind his chair, looking out the window. “Okay, what’s so interesting that you can’t even—” A low growl interrupted her. She hurried to the window and found Spunky standing on his little hind legs, with his front paws pressed against the glass. “What is it, boy? What do you see?”

  Spunky growled again. His head moved slowly
as if he were following a moving target. Olivia stared in the same direction but saw nothing. She suspected Spunky’s keen eyesight could see movement invisible to her, possibly even in the park. Olivia suddenly felt exposed. If someone was outside, she might be visible. Get a grip, Livie. Spunky growls at squirrels.

  “Come, my mighty warrior, time for bed. Tomorrow morning, Maddie will take you for a walk, and you can give that squirrel a piece of your mind.”

  Spunky responded with a frustrated whiney growl and transferred his front paws from the window glass to Olivia’s shins.

  “Ouch,” Olivia said as she lifted her pup and cuddled him in her arms. “Tomorrow we clip those nails, and no complaining this time.” Spunky snuggled against Olivia’s arm. “My hero,” she whispered. If anyone had been in the park, he or she was gone now. Yet Olivia hesitated, uneasy. Maybe she should call Del? No, Del was trying to snag a few hours of sleep before their six thirty a.m. breakfast date. Olivia could roust him out of bed, of course, but…over a squirrel?

  Spunky had drifted to sleep. The feel of his soft little body in her arms was so comforting, Olivia couldn’t stifle a yawn. If Spunky had seen anything truly threatening in the park, she told herself, the next county would’ve heard his yapping. Surely it was safe to go to bed. She silenced that last niggling worry by making a mental note to mention the incident, if it could be called an incident, during breakfast with Del.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The Chatterley Café opened for breakfast at six a.m. on weekdays, usually to a waiting crowd of hungry customers. When Olivia arrived at six thirty, the line stretched from the front door to the street. With a smile and an apologetic explanation, she managed to slip past a determined cluster of folks guarding the entrance like sentinels. Once inside, Olivia searched the crammed restaurant for Del. All tables and booths appeared to be occupied, but she wasn’t worried. Del always managed to secure a booth for them.