Changes to the Recipe

by K. J. Emrick

  So basically, Jerry and Cookie couldn’t get permission from the beneficiary without knowing who the beneficiary was first. Classic Catch-22 situation.

  Cookie had never liked that book.

  Talking for most of the night hadn’t done anything to get them closer to the answer to the important questions. How could they prove who killed Sheila and tried to kill Amanda? Obviously, the motive was the money, but where did the money go?

  And, who had wanted it badly enough to kill for it?

  She stretched, trying to wake up both her body and her mind. When she did, Jerry rolled over and put his arm across her stomach.

  He’d spent the night in her apartment above the bakery again. It was really beginning to be silly for the two of them to maintain separate homes. Certainly, her place was smaller than his house, but it didn’t make sense for her to move in with him, considering that most mornings she had to be up before dawn and downstairs to get the bakery ready. Jerry had an emotional attachment to his house, and she could understand that, but at some point they would have to combine their lives. Even if she didn’t have a wedding band on her finger.

  Oh, there she went again. She told herself to stop being silly. Jerry was right here, with her, in her arms. That was all she needed. Really. Just this.

  Well, that, and a morning kiss.

  Snuggling down into the sheets, she put her face level with his, and kissed his lips while he slept. He snorted in the cutest way, and his eyes fluttered open.

  “Hey,” he said in a drowsy way. He hummed and scratched at his bare chest. “Is it morning already?”

  “Yes, it’s morning. We’ve got plenty of time.” She smiled and put her hand on his chest as well. “Sleepy man. We should get up, though. We have to get ready for Sheila’s services later but I’d like to stop by her apartment again first. I have a feeling we missed something.”

  He blinked at her, and then blinked at her again. “You didn’t get the same text I did last night?”

  “Hmm? I turn my cellphone off at night, you know that.” She reached for it now on the bedside table, the strap of her nightgown slipping down her shoulder. “If anyone really needs to get ahold of me they know to call the landline for the bakery. It rings up here.”

  His hand settled gently on her hip. “Check your messages, Cookie.”

  Well, now she was worried. Her phone went through its warmup process as she wondered what on Earth could have possibly happened now. She did have a few messages, but when she went into them she knew immediately which one Jerry was talking about. She opened that one, leaving the others for later, and read the few words in the text.

  The services for Sheila Tucker have been postponed out of consideration for her daughter’s condition. Thank you for your understanding.

  Cookie was a little disappointed when she read that, but she certainly understood. Sheila’s daughter should have the chance to help send her mother off to the afterlife. It might be another few days before Amanda could leave the hospital. Funerals were more for the living than they were for the dearly departed, anyway.

  “Well,” she said, setting her phone down again. “Then I suppose that gives us plenty of time to go back to Sheila’s apartment. There must be something we’ve missed, Jerry. Something to tell us where the money went.”

  He sat up slowly, nodding thoughtfully, and Cookie let her eyes explore his bare torso. For a man in his sixties Jerry was in fine shape. He’d proved that last night after they’d talked as much as they could. Cookie knew the aches and pains that he tried to hide from everyone, including the twinge in his back and the ache in his shoulder, but age caught up to everyone. There were still lots of years left in both of them.

  “I was thinking about the money last night,” he told her, arching his shoulders as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Seems to me that Sheila took the money out of her account to hide it from someone. Wouldn’t that mean that whoever killed her for it had access to her bank accounts, too? She was worried someone would just come and take the money out of the bank, so she took it out first.”

  Cookie considered that possibility. “Or, perhaps she was afraid that someone was going to force her to take the money out and give it to them. With the money gone, or at least hidden somewhere, no one could make her take it out of the bank. It’s already out of the bank. And hidden.”

  “Good point,” he agreed. “So, Sheila knows someone is pressuring her for this money. She takes it out and hides it somewhere. Like another bank account, do you think?”

  “Possibly.” Cookie didn’t really think so, however. If Sheila had taken the money out just to put it back into another bank, she’d just be in the same spot. Besides, Zane would have known about her opening another account. As her attorney, he would have to know about her accounts when it came time to settle her will. “I think it’s much more likely that she hid it somewhere.”

  “I don’t know, Cookie. Even if she put it in hundred dollar bills, that was a lot of cash.”

  Which was certainly true. Her eyebrows shot up as a thought occurred to her. “Our killer must have known she had that money.”

  “Uh, well sure,” Jerry nodded slowly. “Kind of hard to demand money from someone unless you know they have the money to give in the first place.”

  “Exactly.” She got back on the bed, on her hands and knees, staring Jerry in the face. “That’s my point. I didn’t know she had that much money. I was one of her best friends, for the love of God, and I didn’t have any clue she had that much money to her name. So if I didn’t know about it, then who did?”

  “Good question.” He leaned close and kissed her forehead, trailing his fingers along her cheek. “Her daughter knew, obviously, but we can rule her out as a suspect. Zane knew, but he was just as scared as Amanda had been that someone was coming after him.”

  “And someone was,” Cookie reminded him. “Those cigarette butts had been dropped there by whoever was keeping tabs on Zane’s office, waiting for him to come out.”

  “Whoever else knew,” Jerry said, obviously reading her mind, “we’ll need to connect them to the money.”

  “Or the cigarettes,” Cookie suggested, laying down with her head in his lap. “When can we expect a DNA match?”

  “I gave the butts to my friend over in the State Police. He can get them to their lab quicker. It’s still going to be a day or two, and then that’s assuming there’s a matching sample already in the system.”

  “Wasn’t Rosen in the military?” Cookie asked.

  “Yeah, he was. Why?”

  “Because the military takes a sample of DNA from each of their soldiers. You know. In case they get killed in battle and they need a way to identify them.”

  It was a gruesome truth that just might help them solve a murder.

  Jerry ran his fingers through her hair. “Good idea. I’ll remind my friend to have that checked.”

  He was obviously excited to be sifting out clues and following them to their natural conclusion like the good police officer he was. Cookie had a sudden pang of guilt that he’d given up his chosen career, and done so essentially to defend her honor. She wondered what things would be like for him now that he wasn’t going to be wearing a badge anymore.

  And what would happen with them when he was really, fully retired?

  “Jerry…” she started to say, not sure what words she would use to express her feelings.

  She didn’t get the chance to say anything as Cream entered her bedroom, nosing the door open wider by squeezing his head through. He barked at her when she turned her head his way, and barked again. He was obviously trying to tell her something, and she suspected that she knew what it was.

  “He’s hungry,” she said, translating for Jerry. Cream licked his lips several times, confirming that was in fact what he’d said.

  “Pretty persistent for such a little dog, isn’t he?” Jerry slipped out from under Cookie and stretched again as he got his feet on the floor. “Want me to go put something
in his bowl?”

  “Better let me do it. Last time you fed him he was eating leftover chicken salad.”

  “It had meat in it, didn’t it?”

  She kissed his cheek. “Not quite the point, dear.”

  Rolling off her side of the bed she put on a pair of jogging pants and an oversized sweater. No sense getting dressed properly for the day until she’d had her shower. Jerry had started his morning pushups, and she knew after that came situps and after that came squat thrusts. She had ten minutes at least before he’d be done with that part of his morning routine. She had often joked that she should join him. The pudge around her belly wouldn’t go away on its own, after all. Whenever she said that, Jerry would slip his arms around her and hold her tight and tell her that she was just the perfect size for him.

  It made her feel good to know that she was perfect in his eyes, even if she knew she wasn’t. Not really.

  Humming to herself she stepped out of the bedroom and into the short hallway that led to the living room and the kitchen area. The apartment wasn’t big even if it did take up the entire second floor of the bakery. The first floor was the business, and now she had the basement cellar refurbished to act as storage. Not just for the bakery. It turned out that when you started living your life with a man you accumulated a lot of junk. Funny, she thought, how a lot of his things were finding their way from his house to hers…

  Cream growled. Her little friend never growled.

  Cookie came out of her thoughts as she left the hallway and realized there were two people standing at the door to the stairs. She always kept that door closed at night, and locked, because it led straight up from the bakery. Not to mention the alarm she’d had installed. There had been break-ins to her business over the years and she liked knowing that once the alarm downstairs went off, the crooks wouldn’t have time to get through the locked door up here, where she would be asleep and helpless.

  Only now, there were two people in her apartment.

  After her initial fright she realized that the two were Mason McLear and Cassandra Barlow. They were both in their police uniforms, just standing there, as if they were waiting for her.

  “Good morning,” Cassandra said with a smirk. “We thought maybe the bakery would be open. I sure was looking forward to a coffee and a blueberry muffin. Weren’t you, Mason?”

  Mason’s expression never changed. He just kept staring at Cookie. “I’m more of a bagel man, myself.”

  “Ooh, yes,” Cassandra said. “With cream cheese.”

  “And strawberry jam,” Mason added.

  Then they stopped talking, and they were just staring at her again.

  Cookie was certainly glad she’d taken the time to put on clothes now! She picked up Cream, still making his growling noises deep in his throat, and held him tight as she stepped closer to her unwanted guests. This was her home. She wasn’t going to be intimidated by anyone in her own home. “How did you two get in here?”

  Mason shrugged. “The door was open.”

  “No, it most certainly was not!” Cookie argued. “I lock my doors at night.”

  “A very wise precaution,” Cassandra said, her voice almost cheerful. “You never know who might just waltz in here otherwise.”

  “You have no right coming in here like this.” Cookie glared at both of them, and if a look could turn thought into reality then these two would be running down the stairs to get away from her. “I want you both to leave. Right now.”

  “Is Jerry here?” Mason asked her, as if he hadn’t heard a single word she’d just said.

  Cookie blinked at him. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Sorry,” he told her. “Guess your hearing goes as you get older. Let me speak up. I said, is… Jerry… here?”

  She bristled at this young police officer’s disrespect. Both of them, Mason and Cassandra both, had most certainly learned their manners straight from Chief Ed Rosen. If this was the future of law enforcement in Widow’s Rest, then she was definitely glad that Jerry was getting out of there.

  “Young man,” she said to Mason, “I’m not the one with a hearing problem. I’ve asked you to leave my home. Now kindly turn yourself around and march right down those stairs and out the front door before I call the mayor and make a complaint!”

  “Oh, my.” Cassandra brought a hand up to her mouth and pretended to be chewing on her fingernails. “Did you hear that, Mason? She’s going to call the mayor. Whatever should we do?”

  “Why, we should do exactly what we came here to do. Arrest Jerry Stansted.”

  Cookie’s blood pressure was boiling like a pressure cooker set on high. “I beg your pardon?”

  “We accept your apology,” Mason snarked. He added a little bow just to aggravate her more. “Now. If you’ll just tell us if you’re hiding Jerry somewhere? Like in your bedroom, maybe. Is he curled up under your sheets?”

  “Exactly what do you mean,” Cookie insisted, “that you’re here to arrest Jerry?”

  “That’s right,” Mason confirmed. “That is, if he doesn’t turn in his uniform and police equipment. Chief’s orders.”

  “He isn’t done yet! He’s taking his vacation days before he actually retires. You can just go back and tell your chief that I’ve got a day-old roll of Italian bread with his name on it and he can shove it straight up his—!”

  “Cookie,” she heard Jerry say gently from behind her. “It’s all right.”

  At some point he had come out of the bedroom. She blushed, thinking that he surely had heard what she had been about to say. Not one of her prouder moments, surely, but these two had managed to get under her skin in a way that even Ed Rosen usually didn’t. Jerry nodded to her, and she felt herself relaxing like everything would be all right now that he was here with her.

  Cream stopped growling. His tail wagged. Apparently, he felt the same way that Cookie did about Jerry and his timely intervention.

  He’d put his uniform on before coming out. His duty belt was in place. His boots were on his feet. He looked ready to take on the world. The only thing missing was the badge on his chest.

  Mason and Cassandra both shifted uneasily, while Jerry just stared at them. He was a force to be reckoned with.

  There’s the man I fell in love with, Cookie thought to herself.

  “Well?” Jerry asked them after another moment. “Is there a reason you’re here, breaking into my fiancé’s home?”

  “Door was open,” Mason repeated with less conviction than before.

  Jerry crossed his arms. “Uh-huh. Tell me what you want, and then get out.”

  Cassandra recovered her cocky attitude first. “We’re here,” she said, “to get your uniform and police gear.”

  Looking down at himself, Jerry shrugged. “That’s going to be kind of hard, considering I’m wearing it.”

  “Chief’s orders,” Mason told him, like that excused his behavior. “You need to turn it in.”

  Jerry’s eyes narrowed. “I see. Well. You’re welcome to try taking it off me.” Then he uncrossed his arms, and flexed his fingers. “But I wouldn’t suggest it.”

  For one tense moment, Cookie could see that Mason and Cassandra were considering doing just that. There were two of them, and Jerry was only one man. An older man at that. They might not be familiar with what Jerry was capable of when he put his mind to it, but she certainly was. She’d seen him take on men half his age, and bigger too. These two younger officers were going to be in for a time of it if they tried taking that uniform from him.

  She wouldn’t want to take odds on that match.

  In the very next breath, Mason and Cassandra backed down. It was hardly noticeable, except in how they looked away, and how they both eased back toward the stairway door. Cookie smiled. Maybe Rosen’s pet officers were smarter than they looked.

  “Fine,” Cassandra said, obviously speaking for both of them. “Keep it. We’ll tell the chief you’re bringing it in later.”

  Jerry nodded. “Sure. You do that.”


  “There’s one more thing,” Mason said, still not able to meet Jerry’s eyes directly. “We’ve heard that you’ve been nosing around this case. You’re to lay off. Now. Chief’s orders.”

  “You know,” Jerry said with a hint of a smile crossing his lips. “You guys have been such good lapdogs for Chief Rosen, you deserve a treat. I’m sure Cream here wouldn’t mind sharing his dog biscuits with you. Isn’t that right, Cream?”

  Jerry scratched the Chihuahua under his chin. Cream narrowed his eyes at Mason and Cassandra and growled at them again. Apparently, he didn’t want to share. Not with these two.

  With a snort, Cassandra turned away and opened the door, starting down without another word. Mason looked back over his shoulder once, and opened his mouth to make one last comment.

  “Mason,” Jerry said, cutting the other man off, “make sure you pay your tab at the Old Crow. It doesn’t look good when an officer has outstanding debts in the community. I’m guessing Chief Rosen didn’t teach you that one.”

  “I’ll pay it,” Mason grunted. “I’ll pay it when I’m ready. When I get the money, then that thieving bartender will get what I owe him, and not a second sooner. You oughta worry about your own problems, Jerry. The chief’s got his eye on you.”

  Cookie decided that Cream had been penned up in her arms long enough. She let him down and he started straight for Mason, barking and snapping, and Mason decided to hightail it after Cassandra rather than say anything else.

  At the door, Cream stopped, looking down after the two of them. He humphed loudly when they were finally gone and came back to Cookie, sitting at her feet and panting happily.

  “Good dog,” she told him, bending down to pet him all over. “Someone deserves a special treat this morning. Why don’t I make us some eggs?”

  “Sounds good to me,” Jerry said. He was still watching the stairs, but when he saw that Cookie had noticed his focused gaze he just went over, and closed the door.

  There was something symbolic in that. Like he was closing the door on a chapter of his life.

  “Jerry?” Cookie asked him gently. “Are you all right?”