A Cookie Before Dying (32 page)

“Wow,” Olivia said. “Never mess with librarians.”

“You bet.” Heather’s round face relaxed to its normal friendly diffidence. “I found out Geoff had a history of stealing from girlfriends. He also gave stolen gifts
to
girlfriends. He seemed to pick shy women who were too embarrassed to report him to the police. They sure unloaded online, though. They all said he was charming at first, and then he became demanding and critical and usually violent.”

“Did any of the women mention whether he used weapons?”

Heather nodded. “Several women mentioned he’d threatened them with a knife. One woman needed a couple stitches in her chin. He didn’t use a knife with me because . . . well, when I confronted him in my kitchen about the stealing, I’d locked away all my sharp utensils. He knew right where they belonged because he opened the drawers to look for them. When he realized I’d hidden them, he really lost it. He hit me in the face, and I fell down. I thought he was going to kill me. But he just smiled and left. I changed all my locks, just in case.”

 

 

O
ne driving purpose consumed Olivia’s mind—to clear her brother of murder charges—and she had less than twenty-four hours to do it. Calming and questioning Heather Irwin had taken more than an hour, but it had been worth the time. Olivia hoped Heather hadn’t killed Geoffrey King. She had a strong motive, though, and no alibi. And she was one smart cookie.

Maddie, Bertha, and her mom could handle the store, in case curiosity brought in more than the usual number of Friday customers. Olivia gulped down the rest of her coffee, took a filled Gingerbread House bag from the refrigerator, and exited into the alley.

The Vegetable Plate, right next door, was Olivia’s first planned stop. To avoid being seen entering sugar-phobic Charlene’s store holding what looked like a bag of cookies, Olivia followed the alley to the rear door. Charlene would probably be in her kitchen. She had help who worked the sales floor much of the time, so she could experiment with healthy recipes.

Olivia peeked through the small kitchen window. She was in luck. Both Charlene and her brother Charlie sat at the worktable, their heads tilted toward each other as they talked. If she knocked, Olivia was afraid they might disappear. She tried the doorknob. It turned easily in her hand. She slipped inside so swiftly that the Critch siblings had no time to scrape back their chairs.

“I’m so glad to find both of you here,” Olivia said as she closed the alley door behind her. “We need to talk.”

“What the . . .” Charlene twisted to her feet. “A
civilized
person would knock. You of all people should remember that someone broke into my store.”

“Yes, but the man who broke in is dead, isn’t he? Which is why you feel safe enough to leave your back door unlocked.”

Charlie put an arm around his sister’s tight shoulders. “It’s okay, Sis. I’m here, no one can hurt you.”

“Especially not me.” Olivia held out her bag. “I come with a peace offering.” Before Charlene could start shrieking about the demon sugar, Olivia added, “These are cut-out vegetable sandwiches. Sorry about the bag, it’s all I could find.” She plunked her gift on the table between Charlene and Charlie. Pulling up a chair, Olivia said, “Sit down, please. I know this is abrupt, but I don’t have a lot of time.”

Charlene exchanged a quick glance with her brother. “We heard a rumor that Jason was being released.”

Olivia, who had started the rumor and encouraged her friends and relatives to spread it around, said, “He is . . . for now. He’s still the prime suspect, though. I want to clear him.”

“Jason is my buddy,” Charlie said, “but Charlene and I are suspects, too, so why should we help you?”

“If you are guilty, then you probably shouldn’t help me. Or you could lie. But if you didn’t kill Geoffrey King, you should have no problem answering my questions. I’m not the police. I have no interest in learning any of your secrets unless they help me find the real killer and free Jason.” Olivia opened her bag of sandwiches. “If I do say so myself, these are works of art.”

Charlene’s button nose twitched. “I smell cucumber.”

“Yep, freshly cut.”

“I eat only organic vegetables.”

Olivia nudged the bag closer to Charlene. “These vegetables are all organic. So is the whole-grain bread.”

“How can I be sure?”

“My mother bought all of it right here at The Vegetable Plate yesterday afternoon.”

Charlene hooked an index finger on the edge of the opening and peered inside. Frowning, she said, “I see mustard. I eat no commercial sandwich spreads. They contain sugar.”

Olivia quashed a strong impulse to sigh and roll her eyes. “My mom made the mustard from organic dried, ground mustard seed. And she used pure spring water.”
Thank you, Mom.

Charlie opened a cupboard next to the sink and took out a large glass serving plate, which he rinsed and dried before setting it on the table. “Look, Livie,” he said, “we both care about Jason, but I don’t see how we can help. We didn’t kill Geoff, I swear it.”

Charlene began to arrange the cut-out sandwiches one by one on the glass plate. “These are pretty,” she said, resting a lettuce shape against the curve of a banana. “Did Maddie make them?”

“I made them.”

“Oh.” Charlene picked up a radish-shaped sandwich and nibbled on the top leaves. “This really has radish in it.”

“I do my best,” Olivia said. This isn’t the time to scream, she told her frantic, impatient self.

Charlene finished her radish sandwich and met Olivia’s eyes. “Well? What do you need from me?”

“Me, too,” Charlie said as he tossed an entire tomato-shaped sandwich into his mouth.

“Thank you both, for Jason’s sake. Now just so I know, am I right, Charlene, that it was Geoffrey King who threw all those flyers on The Gingerbread House’s lawn last Sunday morning?”

Charlene’s tight mouth loosened into a sneer. “Oh yeah, that would be Geoff’s work. I bet he was real pleased with himself, making me look like a jerk. He knew I wouldn’t give him away. That would mean admitting he’d ever been a part of my life.”

“Why would he do such an odd thing?”

Charlene picked up a celery-shaped sandwich and picked at the bread. A small pile of bread pellets formed on the table. “Geoff was all about showing how much smarter he was than everyone else in the entire world. He threw my leaflets on your lawn to get me in trouble with my neighbors—and to show me he could get to me anytime he wanted.” With a smug smile, Charlene added, “Except he was dumb enough to look out the window to watch you and Maddie clean up. The sheriff showed me that picture Binnie took.”

“You still didn’t identify him, though?”

“It would have made things worse for me.” Charlene shot a quick glance at her brother. Olivia saw the worry in her eyes and wondered who she was really protecting by keeping silent.

“I can understand that,” Olivia said. “Just a few more questions. I’m still confused about where you two and Jason were on Tuesday night. The police don’t confide in me, but I think there are other suspects. It’s in your best interests to be open about your whereabouts at the time of the murder.”

Charlene examined her pale rose nails for flaws. “What suspects?”

“Well, I heard you had a run-in with Geoffrey King about a loan shark that was after him.”

“Who said that?”

Olivia shrugged. “Is it true?”

Charlene relaxed against the back of her chair. “You already know the answer, so why ask? Yeah, I held Geoff at bay with one of my vegetable knives, but that doesn’t mean I used one of them to stab him.”

“I never suggested you did, but I don’t believe you’ve been truthful about where you were that night.”

“I am not a liar.” Charlene’s denial lost points for its whiny tone.

Olivia turned her attention to Charlie. “You stayed in the store all night to protect your sister, didn’t you? You wouldn’t have left her there alone, not when King had threatened to burn it down. Also, I happen to know you had nowhere else to go. You’d lost your room.”

Charlie slumped back and stared at the ceiling. “Charlene told me to say I’d gone home.” He patted his sister’s arm. “It’s okay, Sis. I’m so sick of lying and hiding all the time. See, Charlene figured if she got accused of killing Geoff she could claim self-defense. But I’d had a lot of run-ins with him. I even threatened to kill him for hurting my sister. The worst is, Geoff was . . . well, he was blackmailing me. He was taking my monthly trust money and most of my salary, and he wanted more. I wanted to kill him, I really did. But it wasn’t me.”

“What was he blackmailing you for?”

“That’s none of your business.” Charlene bolted to her feet. “I want you to leave. Now.”

“No, Sis, it’s all right.” Charlie reached for her wrist. “Let’s get this over with.” Once she’d sat down, he said, “I have a juvie record for stealing cars. It’s supposed to be sealed, but somehow Geoff got hold of a copy and threatened to show it to Struts. I’d have lost my job, and I’d never be able to work in a garage again. I love working with cars more than anything. I don’t know how he got those records, but he did.”

Charlene snorted in a less-than-ladylike way. “He probably sweet-talked some idiot of a clerk, and she fell for it.”

“That all makes sense.” Olivia hoped she sounded reassuring. “So then . . . are you saying Charlene left the store that night before you did?”

“No!” Charlene nudged closer to her brother. “The truth is, neither of us left. We both stayed all night like we planned . . . to protect the store from Geoff. That man was evil. He was more than capable of burning down my lovely Vegetable Plate, even with me in it.” Charlene’s hands flew toward the serving plate and scooped up four sandwiches. She cradled two in each hand as if they gave her comfort.

“Did you stay together?” Olivia asked. “In the store, I mean.”

“Yes,” Charlene said.

“No.” Charlie wove his fingers through his loose brown curls. “I know it doesn’t look good, Sis, but you’ve got to stop lying to protect me.” He leaned toward Olivia, elbows on the table, eyes beseeching. “Charlene slept upstairs. She has a cot up there. That’s where I’ve been sleeping since I lost my room. That night I stayed downstairs and kept watch, and Charlene didn’t come downstairs all night. I could have sneaked out and killed Geoff, but I swear I didn’t.”

“Are you saying you didn’t see or hear anything while King was being killed?

The plate of sandwiches rattled as Charlene’s small fist hit the table. “My brother has answered enough of your questions. We only wanted to protect my store. Charlie didn’t need to hurt Geoff.”

“Why?”

“For the same reason I didn’t—I could have sent Geoff to jail anytime I wanted to. It would have been . . . well, messy, but I’d have done it. The last time Geoff hit me, I told him I’d had it. I said if he didn’t go away and leave us alone, I’d tell the police what I knew about him.” Charlene’s lower lip trembled.

“Tell the police what?” Olivia’s voice betrayed the desperation she felt. “What did you have on King? That’s what he was searching for when I caught him in your kitchen, wasn’t it?”

Charlene bolted to her feet and sent her chair teetering backward. Charlie caught it before it fell. “I need to check on my salesclerks,” Charlene said. “We’re done here.” She clutched Charlie’s upper arm and dragged him out of his chair.

Olivia, however, wasn’t finished. She followed the Critch siblings through the kitchen door and into the store. Charlene conferred with two young female clerks, ignoring Olivia as she roamed the sales floor. She knew what she was looking for—the missing cookie cutters Bertha reported seeing in Charlene’s hands. With luck, they might be on display.

The cookbook section seemed a good place to start. Cookie cutters make lovely shelf decorations. Olivia struck out there, so she checked the lamps scattered about. No cutters hung from the pull cords. Next she searched the store for the sparkle and shine of slicing gadgets, a logical place to exhibit cookie cutters. She located the display in a sunny spot near the cash register, along with two clerks, a customer, and Charlene.

An eager clerk offered to help her find the perfect slicing tool for any need, but Olivia waved her off with “Just looking.”
For my own property. . . . 
And there they were, the cutters missing from The Gingerbread House. She had to admit they lent a touch of artistic gaiety to the jumble of knives, vegetable peelers, garlic crushers, and other slicing paraphernalia. She almost hated to claim them back.

Olivia counted six cookie cutters: a carrot and an apple, hanging from two jars filled with various types of peelers; a sailboat next to a fish-boning knife; a party dress looped over several lemon zesters; a teapot next to the zesters; and a star above the entire display. Olivia stepped back and surveyed the entire section. There was no vintage tin cutter in the shape of a classic Duesenberg.

“Why do you look shocked?”

Olivia spun around toward Charlene’s voice “Did I look shocked?”

“Cookie cutters don’t have to be linked with sugar. I thought of that before you brought those little vegetable sandwiches.”

“I can see that,” Olivia said. “I wasn’t shocked, I just didn’t remember you buying any cookie cutters.”

Charlene cocked a perfectly shaped eyebrow at her. “Oh, I didn’t buy these cookie cutters. Charlie bought them for me.” Charlene’s expression softened as she reached out to touch the sailboat cutter. “When we were kids, Charlie and I used to take the family sailboat out on the lake at our vacation home. We’d spend hours drifting around, pretending we were explorers. Each of these shapes means something special to me. Charlie knows that. He can be a sweet brother sometimes.”

“Yeah” Olivia said. “I’ve got one of those, too.”

Charlene briefly met Olivia’s eyes and said, “Jason is a good guy. I hope he gets cleared.”