When the Cookie Crumbles

by Virginia Lowell

  The young clerk snatched the keys and scurried off.

  Olivia sloshed some coffee into a clean cup and pushed it toward Rosemarie. “You look like you’ve got something important on your mind.” Olivia didn’t mention that Del wasn’t sure he could hold Matthew in jail much longer. Better to wait and see if Rosemarie was about to spill important information.

  Rosemarie took a swig of her coffee. “I’ve never told this to anyone.” She squirmed in her seat as if she were physically uncomfortable. Normally, Olivia would have produced some cookies to lighten the mood. This time it didn’t feel right.

  “I should have,” Rosemarie said. “I should have told. It wasn’t right, what he did.”

  “He?”

  Rosemarie’s hazel eyes met Olivia’s. “Paine Chatterley,” she said. She lifted her coffee cup and put it down again. “It was more than thirty years ago. Going on forty, actually. I was twenty, not yet married. I was in college studying to be a high school teacher. But after what I experienced…”

  Again, Olivia forced herself to stay silent, though her thoughts were racing. Did Rosemarie have an affair with Paine? He would have been seventeen or so. Would Paine have tried to blackmail her, then or since his return to town? Chill, Livie. Just listen.

  Rosemarie straightened her spine with an air of resolution. “I confess that I have an ulterior motive for revealing this now. I’ll do anything to save Matthew, and this might help. So you have to promise me that you will tell my story to the sheriff. I just can’t face doing it myself. I feel so guilty.… Promise me, Livie.”

  Olivia nodded. “I promise.”

  “It was fall semester, and I was student teaching at Chatterley Heights High. Paine was starting his senior year. So was Quill Latimer.”

  So that’s how Paine and Quill knew each other. If Olivia hadn’t been so busy, she could easily have figured that out. She missed Maddie’s magic computer fingers. She risked a question: “Are you saying that Paine and Quill were friends? Or enemies?”

  “Yes and yes,” Rosemarie said. “They seemed to be good friends when I began my student teaching. I was working with the history and social studies teachers. Paine and Quill were in two of the classes where I was assisting, and I got to know both of them. They always hung out together. Quill Latimer was a straight-A student, very serious, if a bit pretentious. Paine…well, he was hard to read. He was bright, no doubt of that, but his performance was erratic. He could be quite charming, but then he’d turn surly, even nasty. Looking back, I wonder if he had some sort of psychological problem. One hears so much about that in the schools these days.”

  Olivia cast a surreptitious glance at the kitchen clock. The noon rush would begin soon, after which she hoped to visit Hermione at the Chatterley Mansion. “You mentioned that you ‘experienced something’ that made you uncertain about becoming a teacher. Did it involve Paine and Quill, and how would that help Matthew?”

  “Paine’s class work started to improve dramatically. At first I assumed it was because he and Quill were studying together, which might have helped Paine buckle down. Then I noticed a pattern. The two boys usually sat together in class, but sometimes they couldn’t find seats together. Whenever that happened, Paine did badly on tests. So I began to wonder if—”

  Olivia heard the kitchen door open behind her. She didn’t turn around. No one spoke, and the door closed again.

  “I wondered if Paine might be cheating, copying from Quill’s paper,” Rosemarie said. “I mentioned this to the teacher, but he didn’t take it seriously. The school tended to go easy on Paine because of his family connections. Quill’s family was working class.”

  “I’m assuming it didn’t end there?” Olivia asked.

  “Nope,” Rosemarie said with a mirthless laugh. “I had to go and stick my fingers in the blender. I almost got them sliced off. You see, I was pretty earnest in those days. I wanted to be the best teacher I could be, so if Paine really was cheating, I couldn’t simply overlook it. On my own I devised a little experiment. I was in charge of typing up the tests and making copies. I created two versions, which contained the same multiple-choice questions but in a different order. On test day, Paine and Quill sat next to each other, and I made sure they got different versions.”

  Olivia felt her heart rate quicken. “And was Paine copying Quill’s answers?”

  Rosemarie heaved a deep sigh. “I wish it had been that easy. Yes, at first my trick seemed to have worked. The answers weren’t identical; Paine was too clever for that. My guess is he copied most of Quill’s answers but not all of them. But I could tell when I graded the tests that Paine had copied from Quill. For many of Paine’s wrong answers, he’d picked the same letter choice that Quill had—a, b, c, or d. Only Paine’s questions were in a different order, so Quill’s answers were incorrect for Paine’s test. Quill’s answers on his own test were almost all correct.”

  “That sounds like fairly solid evidence to me,” Olivia said.

  “I felt confident about it, but when I told the teacher what I’d found, he…well, he acted strangely. First he seemed flustered, then he got mad at me for ‘perpetrating a hoax,’ as he called it, without running it past him. Finally, he ordered me to bring the test papers to him, and he’d take care of it. So I did.”

  “I’m guessing nothing happened?”

  “Oh, something happened, all right,” Rosemarie said. “Quill Latimer was accused of cheating on the test. Somehow the names wound up switched around on their answer sheets. At least, that’s what I assumed. I never saw those tests again. And Paine insisted that Quill had been copying his answers all along. Never mind all the previous times Paine did worse when he couldn’t sit next to Quill. And the real kicker is, Quill never defended himself. That’s when I decided I didn’t want to be a teacher.”

  “Not surprising,” Olivia said. “There’s got to be more to the story. The teacher must have been complicit.”

  “I heard later, after I’d left, that he’d been involved with a married teacher. They both resigned abruptly. Paine must have known about the affair and threatened to tell. But I could never figure out how Paine got Quill to go along. Quill paid dearly. The accusation went on his high school record, which meant he ended up going to a community college instead of a really good school, like he deserved. After that, he hadn’t a chance to get into a first-rate graduate school.”

  “Quill must have hated Paine,” Olivia said.

  “Exactly.” Rosemarie stood to leave. “Please, please, tell the sheriff everything I’ve told you.”

  “Why not tell him yourself?” Olivia asked. “Del will listen.”

  Rosemarie shoved her hands into the pockets of her raincoat. “I’d break down and sound hysterical. The sheriff might think I was making the whole thing up to protect Matthew.” She lowered her gaze. “I feel guilty about Quill. I let him down all those years ago, and now I’ve made him a murder suspect. I wouldn’t have said a word if it were anyone but Matthew in jail. I guess that makes me a real jerk. And I don’t care.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Once The Gingerbread House finally cleared of lunchtime customers, Olivia checked her cell and found a text from Del asking her to call before she headed over to the Chatterley Mansion. When Del didn’t answer, Olivia left him a brief message that there might be another suspect for Paine Chatterley’s murder. “I’m leaving soon,” she added, “to visit Hermione.” As she filled a small Gingerbread House bag with decorated cookies, her cell rang.

  “Glad I caught you,” Del said when Olivia answered. “What’s this about a suspect?” Olivia gave him a quick summary of Rosemarie York’s story. “Well, it’s worth throwing in the hopper,” Del said, “but nearly forty years is a long time to carry a grudge.”

  “I agree,” Olivia said, “although Quill’s entire future was affected by the incident, and not in a good way. I’m not sure how I’d have dealt with being accused of cheating.”

  “You’d have fought to clear your name,” Del s
aid. “From what Rosemarie said, Quill simply accepted his fate. Call me a suspicious cop, but to me that screams guilt.”

  “I bow to your greater experience with guilty consciences,” Olivia said. “Paine’s murder required some planning, or at least some thought went into covering it up. For that, Quill Latimer fits the bill better than Matthew Fabrizio.”

  “Almost anyone does. Listen, Livie, the reason I called is about those photos Binnie Sloan took of the back parlor. I’m emailing one of them to you along with one of the crime scene photos. See if they mean anything to you, okay? Just first impressions, don’t spend a lot of time on them. I’m really hoping your personal expertise will notice something helpful. Check them on your computer so you can see the detail better. Thanks.”

  “My laptop is upstairs,” Olivia said.

  “No big hurry. I’d better go—got a meeting with the medical examiner.”

  “One question, Del. Do you know for sure that Paine was really Paine? Bertha told me Mr. Willard figured out Paine’s death was faked. I need to know what to listen for when I talk to Hermione.”

  “News sure gets around fast,” Del said. “The medical examiner ordered an expedited DNA test to settle the identity of our victim. Expedited or not, it’ll take some time to ascertain that our Paine Chatterley was the original Paine Chatterley. I’m inclined to think he was, given that several folks recognized him. We may never know how or why he faked his own death. Either way, he’s dead now, and he was murdered. I doubt Hermione will say anything helpful or self-incriminating, but keep your ears open. And Livie, don’t take any chances, okay? Just observe and listen. No pointed questions.”

  “Understood.” Olivia almost meant it.

  Spunky hurled himself at Olivia the moment she opened her apartment door. “I love you, too, Spunks.” She caught the excited Yorkie before he could escape down the staircase. “We are going to see Hermione—remember the meat lady? Of course you do. Don’t tell Del, but we’re going to pick up Maddie on the way.” Spunky squirmed out of Olivia’s grasp and ran into the kitchen. “Oh, all right, I’ll buy your silence with a treat.” Her laptop was on the kitchen counter. She could take a look at the pictures Del said he’d emailed to her.

  Before checking her email, Olivia gave Spunky two small doggy treats to keep him occupied. She’d forgotten to close her email program the night before, so it sprang to life when she lifted the laptop lid. A string of messages downloaded. She opened the one from Del and clicked on the first attachment. Binnie’s cell phone photo appeared small and blurry on Olivia’s aging little MacBook. When she enlarged the shot, she barely recognized the back parlor of the Chatterley Mansion. She knew Binnie had taken the picture before her tussle with the sheriff, yet the room looked as if it had endured a bar brawl. Olivia made out two brocade armchairs toppled onto their sides, a delicate carved side table broken in two, and what looked like part of a lamp on the rug. Several items on the floor had fallen from the broken table, including a plate broken in half. Near the plate Olivia saw some puzzling blobs of blue, green, and yellow.

  Olivia clicked on the second attachment, which Del had identified as from the crime scene. Olivia was surprised to see a bedroom instead of the bathtub. The professional photo showed a tall four-poster bed with the top sheet and blankets tossed over the side, as if the sleeper might have thrown them off to…go take a bath?

  Clutter covered Paine’s bedside table. Though the quality of this photo was far better than that of the previous one, Olivia could barely make out several shapes that looked like pill bottles and a glass. A spot of color next to the glass intrigued her. It almost looked like…She enlarged the photo until it practically covered her tiny screen. The photo became grainy, but Olivia was able to recognize a small plate holding the remains of a decorated cookie. She couldn’t make out the shape, but the icing was red and pink. “Huh. That must be what Del wanted me to see. Interesting.” Olivia didn’t realize she’d spoken aloud until Spunky whimpered and tried to jump up onto the counter.

  “Forget it, Spunks,” Olivia said, scooping him into her arms. “Face it, you aren’t a cat.” She gave his ears a rub. Before closing down her laptop, she forwarded Del’s email to Maddie’s newer and more powerful PC laptop. Olivia unplugged her freshly charged cell phone and grabbed a leash from a hook in the kitchen. Spunky wriggled and yapped with excitement as she hooked the leash onto his collar. “Time to consult Maddie,” Olivia said as she locked her apartment behind them.

  Olivia didn’t even glance into The Gingerbread House to see if all was well. With her thumb, she punched her speed-dial number for Maddie, who was at the Chatterley Heights Community Center. After two unanswered rings, Olivia was sent to voice mail. “Hey, Maddie, it’s me. I’m on my way to the community center. Hope you’re there along with your laptop. If you get this in time, check your email.”

  Olivia and Spunky cut through the town square, skirting around booths and platforms at various stages of completion for Sunday afternoon’s birthday fete. Wielding buckets and mops, Chatterley Heights citizens scrubbed the rarely used band shell for an evening concert of early American songs, to be performed by the Chatterley Heights High School choir with the assistance, thankfully, of the excellent St. Alban’s Episcopal Church choir. Olivia’s cell phone rang as she approached the buffed and polished statue of Frederick P. Chatterley attempting to mount his horse.

  “It’s me,” Maddie said. “I’m looking at the pics now, with intense fascination. Can’t wait to hear what’s up. If you’re going on an adventure, I’m coming. Because, frankly, with the gingerbread houses finished and on display, I’m bored. I mean, I love all the ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs,’ but it’s fair to say that my ego is sated. Where are you?”

  “Just past Fred and Trigger,” Olivia said, referring to their childhood names for Frederick P. and his horse.

  “Come right to Rosemarie’s office,” Maddie said. “I don’t have my laptop, but I’m using the community center’s nice, big desktop computer.”

  “I thought only Rosemarie could log on to that computer.”

  “Oh please, Livie. I can hack into your computer, and your password is in French.”

  “You hacked—” Olivia interrupted herself as she neared a group putting up a kissing booth.

  “Livie, my naive friend, I keep telling you to mix in some numbers and symbols, but will you listen? All I had to do was look up the French phrases you throw around most often—the Internet makes it easy, you know. Then I tried them one by one, and, um…voilà?”

  “Sadly, you are correct,” Olivia said.

  “I’m only doing it for you. I’m determined to force you to use stronger passwords.”

  “Right.”

  “Well, there’s also the fun of it. Anyway, we can be private in Rosemarie’s office because she left me her key. She’s pretty distracted right now, what with Matthew in the clinker and all. Although I heard a rumor he might be released. Is it true?”

  “Maybe,” Olivia said. “I’ll explain later. Right now we have an assignment. I’ll be there in five.”

  Olivia held Spunky in a tight hug as she wound through the impressive crowd in the community center’s large public meeting room. The gingerbread houses created by Maddie and her team formed a small village that filled a third of the room. A volunteer herded visitors through a line that started near the front entrance. Olivia paused for a longing gaze toward the gingerbread houses. Through a gap in the line of visitors, she saw a flash of peach and burgundy, the same shades Aunt Sadie had used to embroider the Chatterley Mansion on Olivia’s apron. She was glad she’d decided not to use the apron as a costume today.

  Worried that Maddie might have given away the identity of the little boy in the mansion window, Olivia veered toward the display to get a closer look. The peach and burgundy gingerbread house represented a small Victorian cottage, not unlike The Gingerbread House. No little boy appeared in a window. Olivia looked down the row of gingerbread houses and saw the Chatterle
y Mansion showcased in the middle of the display. The gingerbread mansion’s colors matched the freshly repainted Chatterley Mansion. She wasn’t close enough to see the cookie window scene Maddie had created, but she remembered the little boy had dark hair, and his clothing was vaguely nineteenth century.

  Spunky was starting to squirm in Olivia’s grip, so she slipped past the line and headed toward Rosemarie York’s office. She glanced inside the kitchen as she passed and saw several women cleaning up after their baking marathon. No wonder Maddie was so eager to leave. Cleaning bored her, and Maddie did not tolerate boredom with good humor.

  “Hey, you two,” Maddie said as Olivia appeared in the office doorway. “Heard you coming.” Spunky yipped and reached out his front paws toward Maddie, who held out her arms. “Come to me, my little tiger.”

  Olivia handed him over. “He never appreciates me. It’s a mother’s lot.”

  “Close the door, we have much to discuss.” With Spunky in her lap, Maddie swiveled Rosemarie’s chair around to face a blank computer screen the size of a large television. She hit a key, and the photo of Paine Chatterley’s four-poster popped up. “I’m assuming Del wanted us to take a look at those cookie bits next to Paine’s bed.” Maddie pointed to the photo, now enlarged but still fairly clear.

  “I couldn’t tell what the shape was,” Olivia said, “but I did bring a bag of cookies to the mansion when I visited Wednesday morning. Most people snarf them up right away. I suppose Hermione might be the type to dole them out, though.…” Olivia shook her head, remembering the steak Spunky had liberated from the mansion’s garbage can.

  “Hermione is the type to waste,” Maddie said. “And steal. I still think she killed her husband. If she did it by poisoning one of our cookies, I’ll…Wait a minute.” Maddie squinted at the computer image. Her fingers traveled around the keys at warp speed, and the plate of cookies grew larger. More key tapping, and the image sharpened. “Huh,” Maddie said, stroking Spunky’s ears. “I don’t think that’s one of our cookies. Take a closer look and see what you think.” She held Spunky in a cuddle and relinquished her seat to Olivia.