Cookies and Scream (A Cookie Cutter Shop Mystery)

by Virginia Lowell

  Maddie offered a quick distraction. She sank to her knees in front of her aunt’s wheelchair, and said, “Aunt Sadie, I’ll bake all your favorite cookies and deliver them weekly if you’ll only tell us what you think about the antique cutters. I’ll bring you a kitten and clean the litter box every day. I’ll name my firstborn after you.”

  Aunt Sadie laughed and kissed the fluffy top of her niece’s head. “Maddie, please, I beg of you, do not saddle a child with the name ‘Sadie.’ But all right, I’ll tell you my impressions.” While Maddie settled back into her chair, Aunt Sadie gathered her thoughts. “I do have a few reservations about some of the cutters you’ve shown me,” she said, “but there is no smoking gun, as they say. They are all in excellent condition with no rust or breaks, and I didn’t see any signs they’d been repaired. I suspect they were German-made because most of them do not have backs, as American-made cutters do.” Aunt Sadie picked up the two bags and glanced at the contents. “Two of the cutters have braced backs, and another two of the larger ones have rectangular backs that aren’t quite big enough to cover the backs. Those are all signs of German-made cutters. Even the designs are typical classic German ones, like the pig, a circle, a six-pointed star. The heart shape has a thinner tail than you’d see in an American cutter.”

  “So far, so good,” Maddie said.

  Aunt Sadie nodded slowly. “There’s more. Some of the cutters identified as older feel a bit heavier, at least to me, which makes sense since heavier tin was used in the earlier years. There’s more use of solder in the later cutters because it became less expensive over time.” After several moments of silence, Aunt Sadie picked up one of the older cutters, the star. She took the same design from the bag of younger cutters. Holding one in each hand, Aunt Sadie closed her eyes and leaned her head against the back of her chair. She lifted her hands, apparently testing the weight of each.

  “What is it, Aunt Sadie?” Maddie asked. “You’ve noticed something, haven’t you?”

  Aunt Sadie opened her eyes. “Maybe.”

  “What did I tell you, Livie? She’s the best!”

  “Now, Maddie, it might be nothing, and it’s far from scientific. There’s probably a reasonable explanation. Anita would know.” Aunt Sadie peered closely at the two star cookie cutters. Holding up the older one, she said, “This cutter is darker, which is characteristic of the older cutters. However, I would expect this older cutter to be heavier than the younger one. Instead, by my estimation, the younger one feels just a bit heavier.”

  “Maybe because there’s more solder in the younger star?” Olivia suggested.

  “Not enough to make it feel noticeably heavier,” Aunt Sadie said. “Maddie, remember I told you that Greta’s father was an expert carver?”

  Maddie nodded. “We found a beautifully carved box in Greta’s house. I figured her father probably made it for her.”

  Aunt Sadie’s smile was gentle and sad. “What I think I never told you is that he worked with many materials, including metals. He was an accomplished tinsmith. I know he taught Greta how to carve. Her mother thought it unladylike to work with metal, but I wouldn’t be surprised if Greta picked up the skill by watching her father work. She was a clever girl.”

  “Golly,” Maddie said. “You think these cutters are all fakes? Greta made these cutters herself, to look like antiques? But how would she have been able to make the older one look darker? Oh wait, I’ve seen ads online for antiquing solutions that age all kinds of stuff, like wood or metal.”

  “But wouldn’t that leave a paper trail?” Olivia asked. “If a customer paid for valuable antique cookie cutters and then tried to have them authenticated, the truth would probably come out.”

  “No need for fancy chemicals,” Aunt Sadie said. “Plain old vinegar will do the trick. Spray it on the metal and leave it in the sun for however long you want. You can control how dark it gets. Greta’s father would have known that.”

  Olivia’s mind raced through the various messes she and Maddie had avoided due, unfortunately, to Greta’s death. It would have been an honor to represent such a promising collection, but it might have turned into a disaster.

  “Livie?” Maddie asked. “It’s a million degrees out here. Why has the blood left your cheeks?” When Olivia didn’t answer, Maddie said, “Earth to Livie. Asteroid approaching.”

  “It just occurred to me,” Olivia said. “That asteroid could have wiped us out. What if we’d brokered the sale of Greta’s collection and found out later that we’d sold fake antiques?”

  “I guess it would have been messy,” Maddie said. “But everyone knows we aren’t super experts on the subject.”

  “Right.” Olivia closed her eyes and took a deep, calming breath. Her mother would have been proud. “Don’t you see? That is precisely why Greta Oskarson chose me to represent her. Anita Rambert would have spotted the fakes quickly, before they got sold for exorbitant amounts of money, which they aren’t worth. Greta intended to rake in all that money . . . and then disappear, leaving me on the hook.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Isn’t this lovely?” Ellie smiled at everyone seated around the dinner table—Olivia, Allan, Jason, and Calliope—as if they had been separated for decades. “The family is all together for the evening meal. I’ve been so looking forward to this.”

  Since everyone else was eyeing the food on the table, Olivia took pity on her mother. “Thanks for arranging this get-together, Mom. I’ve been so busy today preparing the store to reopen tomorrow, I haven’t had a chance to complete a sentence.”

  “Hah!” Allan’s booming voice caused Ellie to drop her fork. “Don’t expect to finish a sentence at this table. The more we eat, the more we talk.”

  “I almost forgot the wine.” Ellie scraped back her chair. “I know we don’t usually have wine with dinner, but I thought it would be . . .” Ellie blinked rapidly, as if she were trying to remember what she was going to say.

  “Are you okay, Mom?” Olivia asked. “You look flustered. Flustered isn’t like you. Should you be scheduling more yoga classes?”

  “I attended two yoga sessions today, Livie, but thank you for caring. Now, who would like a nice glass of Chardonnay? Everyone? Excellent.” Ellie filled all the glasses as close to the brim as she could.

  Olivia watched her mother with growing concern. Ellie wasn’t behaving normally. She was the people handler, the calm one who always appeared to float above the fray. Now she seemed rattled, even agitated.

  Ellie caught her daughter watching her, and said, “Livie, dear, aren’t you hungry?”

  “Hm?” Olivia glanced at the table. The platters of grilled salmon, steamed green beans, fresh sliced tomatoes sprinkled with basil, and rosemary bread had all piled up next to her plate. “Looks great, Mom. You’ve been busy.” Olivia understood at once. Her mother had created a special meal, which meant a special announcement. Olivia glanced at Jason and Calliope. Was it her imagination, or did they look chummy?

  Belatedly, Olivia filled her plate. As she slid the platter of sliced rosemary bread closer to her brother, she asked, “So Jason, are you still thinking of making an offer on Greta’s house if it goes on the market?”

  “Nah, not anymore.” Jason reached toward the plate of salmon. “Push that closer, would you, Olive Oyl?”

  Calliope guffawed, and a bit of tomato leaked out the corner of her mouth. No one seemed to notice except Olivia.

  Jason grinned as he slid a hefty serving of salmon onto his plate. “I got a much better idea.” He handed the plate to Calliope, who took a smaller, though still generous, portion. “That house isn’t really right for me,” Jason said. “I talked to Lucas about it. He did all the refurbishing for Greta, so he could describe the place to me. It’s too small and dark and old-fashioned. Too girly for my taste. Anyway, Lucas told me about this place just south of town, out past the Nightshade Motel.”

 
“Oh, there’s a great neighborhood,” Olivia said. The Nightshade Motel had a shady reputation, especially at night.

  “I said past the motel, Olive Oyl. Geez. Maybe you forgot, but there’s farms south of the motel. They’re being sold off for developments, but there’s this one I looked at about two miles down the road. The farm fields are small, and most of the land is hilly, so the developers don’t want it. The farmhouse is in decent shape, just needs some renovation.”

  “And he can get the whole parcel for a song,” Calliope added. “House, two barns, fields, woods, everything.”

  “Well, yeah, I can now,” Jason said with a grin. “Cal charged right in and wrangled a deal with the owner. Man, can she ever negotiate.” Jason bumped fists with Calliope, who looked happier than Olivia had ever seen her.

  “That’s great news, Jason,” Allan said. “Is Lucas going to help you with the renovation work?”

  “I don’t need Lucas,” Jason said. “I’ve got Cal.” Jason took a generous slice of rosemary bread and managed to fit half of it into his mouth. He showed no awareness of the silence around the table.

  Calliope noticed, however. Her long jaw tightened, giving her a belligerent look. “I like working with my hands,” Calliope said. Her tone sounded defensive. “I’m good at it. I used to do lots of repairs when I stayed with . . . friends. I wanted to earn my keep. And I’m strong, too.”

  “She sure is strong,” Jason said. “She almost beat me at arm wrestling.”

  Olivia noticed that Calliope didn’t downplay her near-victory over a man who was perhaps twenty years her junior. Jason was a full-time mechanic, and worked out regularly. Calliope, in fact, looked rather pleased with herself.

  With surprise, Olivia realized she was feeling more kindly disposed toward Calliope. Olivia could admire a physically strong middle-aged woman who could actually fix things. However, one quick glance at her mother told her that Ellie did not share her admiration. Ellie’s hazel eyes stared at her untouched plate as she braided a strand of her long, gray hair. Not a good sign.

  Allan wolfed down a second serving of salmon, happily unaware of his wife’s angst. Jason and Calliope both reached for serving plates and helped themselves to more food. It was up to Olivia to help her mother. But first she had to figure out what was going on. “Mom,” Olivia said quietly, “is there any more of that Chardonnay? It hit the spot.”

  “Oh.” Ellie released her braid as she twisted in her chair to view the kitchen counter. “The bottle is almost empty. I have another in the little refrigerator downstairs. I’ll go get it.”

  “I’ll go with you.” The others paid no attention as Olivia followed her mother through the kitchen to the basement stairs. Olivia said nothing until she and Ellie were downstairs and well out of earshot.

  As Ellie reached for the refrigerator door, Olivia said, “You don’t really need to open another bottle just for me. That was a ruse to get you out of the room so we could talk.”

  “Well, I could use another glass,” Ellie said as she reached for a bottle.

  “It’s that serious? Mom, what’s bugging you so much?” Olivia took the wine bottle from her mother, who couldn’t be trusted to remember it was in her hand.

  “Livie, weren’t you listening just now? Calliope has found a way to move in with Jason, and he fell for it.”

  “It sounds like a win-win to me,” Olivia said. “Jason will probably be footing the bill, but Calliope clearly wants to help with the renovation work. I’ve never seen her look so happy. Come to think of it, I’ve never seen Calliope look happy at all, ever. And Jason seems content with the arrangement. The two of them get along like . . . like . . . I was going to say brother and sister, but Jason and I get on each other’s nerves. Anyway, Jason and Calliope might actually be good for each other. Jason works during the day, so he’ll get a break, and I’m reasonably certain Calliope truly wants to work on house renovations. What am I missing?”

  Ellie leaned against the refrigerator door and crossed her strong, slender arms over her tiny rib cage. “Maybe I’m being an overprotective mother.”

  “In what way? Are you afraid Calliope will start to take over Jason’s life or drive him crazy or something? Because it’s my observation that Jason likes and respects Calliope for her skills. I don’t think her bluntness phases him. In fact, he doesn’t seem to notice it.” Olivia wished she could open the wine bottle and sit down with her mother, but the damp, badly lit, unfinished basement wasn’t exactly a calming environment.

  “Honestly, Livie, I’m not sure what I’m afraid of.” Ellie sighed heavily. “For all I know, they will be perfect for each other.”

  “That might be going too far.” Olivia felt relieved when Ellie laughed, however briefly. “This is a wild guess, but are you worried that having Calliope around will prevent Jason from finding another girlfriend?”

  Ellie’s shoulders slumped. “Yes, I am. Calliope has driven me to the brink of madness. I’m so worried that any young woman Jason brings home will run for the mountains as soon as she meets Calliope. I’ll never have any grandchildren.” Ellie slapped her hand over her own mouth. “Oh Livie, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

  “It’s okay, Mom. Jason and I are a bit on the slow side, but don’t give up on us yet.”

  Ellie chuckled. “I do think of Spunky as sort of a grandchild.”

  “I’m glad you do,” Olivia said. “There are times when I would happily give him to you.”

  “No, you wouldn’t.”

  “Yes,” Olivia said. “I would. However, I always get over it. He crawls on my lap, and I remember what a tough, loving little guy he is. Mom, remember Jason’s toast to Maddie at her wedding? Jason likes strong, competent women. He knows what he wants; he just hasn’t found her yet. When he does, it’s my guess that she and Calliope will get along fine.”

  Ellie smiled at her daughter, and asked, “How did you get so smart?”

  “Not a clue.” Olivia looped her free elbow through her mother’s and guided her up the basement steps. When they reached the dining room, Olivia and Ellie witnessed a domestic miracle: Allan and Jason were clearing the table. Calliope was fitting plates and silverware into the dishwasher. She had piled the sharp knives and cookware next to the sink for hand washing.

  “Hello, sweetheart,” Allan said as he dipped down to give his wife a kiss. “We thought the wine might go well with dessert. We can always have coffee after that, if we’re feeling loopy.”

  “You mean you aren’t slipping back to your office to work?” Ellie asked.

  “Not tonight, I think,” Allan said. “This has been such a delicious and pleasant family dinner. I’d like it to continue it for a while.”

  “Who are you,” Ellie asked, “and into what closet did you stuff my husband?”

  Allan laughed and kissed Ellie on the forehead.

  Olivia wondered if they’d all wandered into an alternate universe.

  * * *

  After dinner, the Greyson-Meyers family gathered in the living room for dessert. With the temperature still hovering around the mid-eighties, everyone preferred air-conditioning to the screened porch. Olivia was relieved to see her mother looking more relaxed. Ellie beamed as she brought in a large serving plate piled with fresh fruit and tiny herbal cookies. “I bought the cookies at the Chatterley Café,” Ellie explained. “I couldn’t bear to heat up the house with cookie baking right before we all gathered for a family dinner. Besides, the café had such a lovely assortment of cookie flavors. These little pink ones have peppermint leaves in them. The darker pink ones are rose geranium; so delicious. I’ll let you guess the other flavors.”

  Jason and Calliope dove into the colorful arrangement, filling their dessert plates with raspberries, blueberries, cantaloupe chunks, and as many cookies as they could grab with one hand. Olivia was relieved to see her mother looking pleased, rather than alarmed.


  “This reminds me of being on a cruise ship,” Calliope said. “The food was great, and there was lots of it. Good thing we had plenty of activities, or we’d have gotten fat enough to sink the ship. Of course, some folks just made the rounds of bars, lounges, restaurants, cocktail parties . . . but most of us tried out the activities, like swimming and dance classes. You could dance every evening, if you wanted. I’m not much of a dancer. Don’t like to dress up.”

  “Me neither,” Jason said. “I’m happiest in my greasy work clothes.”

  “Anyway,” Calliope said with her mouth full of cantaloupe, “there were always ways to fill up the day. You’d love all the craft classes, Ellie.”

  “Where did you go on your cruise?” Olivia asked.

  “Cruises,” Calliope said with her mouth full of blueberries. “I took three cruises, all on the same cruise ship, the Alice Springs. It’s Australian, makes stops all over the place, so we were always meeting new people. I got to be friends with folks I’d meet on that ship. Many of us took more than one cruise, so we’d see each other over and over. It felt like coming back home, only a lot more interesting. Although some people I’d rather not see again. When you spend a couple months together on the same ship, you get to know each other . . . for better or for worse.” Calliope popped two rose geranium cookies into her mouth. “Not bad,” she mumbled.

  Olivia snapped to attention. In Greta’s attic, she and Maddie had found a photo of Greta lounging on the deck of a ship. Olivia remembered the letters that appeared in the photo: ALIC. She was willing to bet The Gingerbread House that those letters were part of the ship’s name, and that name was almost certainly Alice Springs. What were the odds that Calliope and Greta Oskarson had been on the Alice Springs at the same time?

  “But you must have met some interesting characters,” Olivia said.

  Calliope shrugged. “Some, yeah. On a ship, it’s a lot like living in a small town. You get to see the people you like nearly every day, if you want, but you’re stuck with the jerks.” Calliope restocked her plate with pineapple slices, bing cherries, and more cookies. “I didn’t mind the colorful jerks,” she said. “You know, the ones who’d drink all night in the ship’s bar and stand on a table reciting Shakespeare. That was fun to watch when the weather was rough. In the morning you’d find them snoring in a deck chair, still dressed in tuxedos.”