One Dead Cookie (20 page)

“That’s sweet of you, Bertha, but we decided to stay closed for a while, maybe all
day. Frankly, we need the time to bake. What are people saying?”

“Well, Mr. Willard and I had an early breakfast at Pete’s Diner, and you wouldn’t
believe…Ida figured you and Maddie must have killed an intruder trying to rob the
store. Then Polly came in and said she’d heard it was that handsome actor who died,
the one who came to The Gingerbread House. Only don’t you tell me anything, Livie.
It’s best I don’t know. I’d get too flustered trying to remember what to keep to myself.”

“That’s wise, Bertha. If anyone asks, just say Maddie and I are unharmed, neither
of us is under any suspicion, nothing was stolen from the store, and the police will
release more information when they are good and ready.”

“I can do that, Livie. Honestly, some people are so…Oh dear.”

“What’s wrong, Bertha?” Olivia exchanged a worried glance with Maddie, who held her
pastry bag suspended above a daffodil-shaped cookie.

“Well, Mr. Willard bought me a sweet little laptop for my birthday so we could email
each other, and I just got a message from Polly. She wrote to a whole list of folks.
She says that a friend of hers heard that Sheriff Del has arrested Wade Harald for
murder! Oh, that can’t be right. Poor Wade does have a bit of a drinking problem,
but I can’t believe—”

Olivia’s breath caught in her throat. “Bertha, what does the email say? Is Stacey
okay?”

“Stacey Harald? Oh yes, I should think so. Polly says Wade killed Trevor Lane. But,
dear me, whatever for?”

*   *   *

O
livia had been trying for forty minutes to reach either Stacey Harald or Del. She’d
left several messages to no avail. The police department’s answering machine directed
her to 911 for an emergency. Olivia gave up, at least for the moment.

Maddie interrupted her cookie-icing project and settled at Livie’s desk with the laptop.
Her fingers danced across the keyboard while Olivia checked her cell in case she had
missed a message.

“Livie, come look at this,” Maddie said.

Olivia peered over Maddie’s shoulder at the laptop screen. “Tell me you aren’t checking
Binnie’s excuse for a blog. What use is that?”

“Binnie doesn’t mention anything about a cookie cutter in her post about Trevor Lane’s
murder,” Maddie said. “All
she says is the body was found on the porch of The Gingerbread House. Oh, and the
police probably suspect us but haven’t yet collected enough evidence to charge one
or both of us. Binnie is certainly predictable,” Maddie said. “She takes a kernel
of information and builds an outrageous story around it. If I can figure out where
she started…” Squinting at the screen, Maddie scrolled through an array of photos
taken by Ned, Binnie’s niece and the photographer for
The Weekly Chatter
. Ned rarely opened her mouth, but her photographs spoke for her. The last photograph
in the series practically shouted. It was a photo of Olivia holding a wriggling Spunky
and staring open mouthed into the darkness. “Binnie must have used these photos to
fabricate her story,” Maddie said. She returned to the first one.

Olivia pulled over a kitchen chair, so she could see the screen more clearly. “That’s
a night shot,” she said. “It’s the inside of the band shell. How on earth did Ned
do that without being seen?”

“Knowing Ned, she made herself invisible,” Maddie said. “She must have taken this
before you arrived at the band shell last evening. Those three men standing inside
look like Trevor Lane, Dougie Adair, and Howie Upton.”

“See over there, near the left edge of the band-shell entrance?” Olivia touched the
screen. “That looks to me like the toe of a work boot. And up above, that’s a hand.
See the finger pointing toward the three men? When Spunky and I were in the park,
walking toward the band shell, we heard a man’s angry voice. The man came stalking
out and stared at me as if he were trying to figure out who I was. Of course, Spunky
was yapping in his own unique way, so that would have been a clue. I recognized him;
it was Wade Harald. I meant to call Stacey, but…”

“You never mentioned this to me,” Maddie said. “Well? What was the argument about?”

“I don’t know. Like I said, all I could hear was a man’s angry voice. Except, wait…I
did hear one word. The voice was distorted by rage. I think he said the word ‘lied,’
but I’m not absolutely positive.”

Maddie scrolled to the next photo, which showed a man leaving the band shell. His
face was hidden as he looked down at the steps. Olivia recognized the spare, bowlegged
figure she’d seen. “That’s Wade. I recognized him a few seconds later when he turned
to stare at me.”

“The last two photos show a man walking away,” Maddie said as she scrolled quickly
through them. “So we have our answer, more or less. Wade had some sort of argument
with Trevor, Dougie, and Howie, and now Trevor is dead. That doesn’t prove Wade killed
Trevor. Maybe Wade drove drunk and Del arrested him. Maybe Binnie, being Binnie, heard
about the arrest and connected the dots to conclude that Del arrested Wade for murder.”

“I agree Binnie is prone to wild leaps of logic,” Olivia said, “but for once she might
be right.” She flipped open her cell phone and tried Stacey’s home phone, then her
cell, and finally her number at work. “Still no answer, only the usual recorded messages.
I have a really bad feeling about this.”

“But Livie, why would Wade Harald, of all people, dump Trevor on
our
porch with a cookie stuffed in his mouth and a gavel shape burned on his cheek? Wade
is normally a sweet guy, except…”

“Except when he’s been drinking,” Olivia said. “Maddie, Wade sounded so angry that
night. Trevor must have wronged him in some way. They went to different high schools,
but maybe they crossed paths as teenagers.”
Olivia ran her fingers through her tangled hair. She couldn’t remember when she’d
last washed it. Thank goodness the store was closed.

“Do you really believe Wade would kill Trevor over some incident from high school?
Who does that?”

Olivia thought back to the slights she had experienced in high school. She remembered
the worst of them, perpetrated by a pretty, popular cheerleader named Sara. Sara was
competitive, with a jealous streak. She had to be the best at everything. Olivia had
outscored her on an important math test. Sara had taken revenge by hinting to Olivia
that the quarterback, also popular, had a crush on her. Then Sara told the quarterback
that Olivia was telling everyone they were a couple, which enraged the quarterback’s
girlfriend. Olivia could still feel her deep embarrassment, as well as her fury. She’d
certainly felt like murdering Sara. However, Olivia’s life got better after high school.
She forgot those feelings, and she hadn’t thought about Sara until now. Wade Harald
hadn’t been as lucky. His life had been unraveling for years, and he’d turned to alcohol
for comfort.

“All I know,” Olivia said, “is how angry Wade sounded on Wednesday evening. If he’d
had a weapon, I think he might well have used it.”

“But where would Wade come up with a gavel cookie cutter and a decorated cookie?”
Maddie asked. “I can’t imagine him taking the time and effort to…to do what was done
to Trevor.”

“Maybe he had help.”

“Not from Stacey,” Maddie said. “I refuse to believe that.”

“Wade is suggestible when he’s been drinking, and he is easily enraged. If someone
pushed the right buttons and
gave Wade a little encouragement, I’m afraid I could see him as the killer,” Olivia
said. “For Stacey’s sake, I hope it didn’t happen that way.”

“But, Livie, could you really see Wade arranging Trevor’s body on our porch? And again
I ask, what about the gavel brand? The cookie in his mouth? That took planning ahead.
Wade is not a planner ahead.”

“I know.” Fear seeped through her brain like sludge, slowing her ability to reason.
“He is a hothead, though.”

“So you’re thinking there are two murderers?”

“I’m thinking we have three other suspects: Dougie, Howie, and Jennifer. All three
strike me as coolheaded. And I’m thoroughly convinced they are all hiding something.”

The worktable in The Gingerbread House held a mountain of undecorated cookies by mid-afternoon.
Olivia and Maddie had baked their way through twenty pounds of flour, all but a few
cups of their sugar supply, and every available drop of lavender essence, rosewater,
and lemon and vanilla bakery emulsion. They’d also run out of clean baking equipment,
and the dishwasher was full.

“Do I look as bedraggled as I feel?” Olivia asked.

Maddie looked her up and down. “Worse. I remember your hair used to be auburn. Now
it’s white. Sad, really.” Maddie dug through the clutter on the kitchen counter to
find a pen and a pad of notepaper. “I’ll make a list and ask Jennifer to do some shopping.
Today is Thursday, so she might have to order an overnight delivery of flavorings.”
She plunked down on a chair. “But first, I need to catch my breath. I know as soon
as I rejoin the world, hordes of people will pummel me with questions about Trevor’s
murder.”

“Tell them to ask the police. Say you’ve been too busy to even think about it. Pretend
to faint.” Olivia filled the dishwasher soap dispenser and punched the on button.

“Oh yeah, that’ll work. Remember where you are, Livie.” Maddie stretched her arms
above her head. “Sorry, I’m a bit cranky. Maybe I need a teensy nap. There’s a little
space under the kitchen table I could curl up in.”

“Not a chance.” Olivia dug her apartment key out of her jeans pocket. “Use my guest
room. Sleep as long as you need to, and I’ll keep cleaning the kitchen. Maybe I’ll
turn the phones on and catch up on messages.”

“Not without me, you won’t,” Maddie said, perking up. “What if we’ve missed another
development? What if Del has identified Trevor’s killer? What if it isn’t Wade Harald,
after all? Del would call to tell you, wouldn’t he?”

“Probably not. He’d be too busy.” Olivia sank into a chair and put up her feet on
the edge of Maddie’s seat. “Okay, let’s revive the phones and rejoin the world together.”
Olivia and Maddie retrieved their cells and switched them on. Neither phone rang instantly.
“The excitement must be waning,” Olivia said. “On the other hand, I have fourteen
new voice mail messages and twelve text messages.”

“I win,” Maddie said. “I have seventeen new voice mail messages and twenty-three text
messages. One is from Jennifer Elsworth. She begs our forgiveness again and offers
to take care of the store while we prepare for the party. Shall we forgive and forget
as I initially told her we would?”

Olivia ran her fingers through her tangled hair and a dusting of flour fell onto her
jeans. “I have serious questions about Jennifer’s reliability, among other things,
but we’ll need her help. Tell her yes. We can’t work Bertha to death.” Olivia scrolled
through her own messages and
missed calls. “That makes three calls from my mother.” She listened to the messages
in order of time. Ellie’s first two messages were cheerful and supportive, so Olivia
deleted them. When she listened to the third call, she knew at once that her mother
was worried about more than just the dead body on her daughter’s porch.

“Okay, Jennifer is duly forgiven and assigned to work tomorrow morning,” Maddie said
as she sent a text message.

“Maddie, do you have any messages from Stacey Harald?”

“Not a one, why?”

“Stacey left one short message early this afternoon, asking if she could talk to me,
but that’s all. About half an hour ago, Mom called. She wants me to come over this
evening if I can. She and Allan had a surprise visit from Stacey, along with both
her kids. Stacey asked if they could stay. Mom said she seemed really shaken up.”

“Wow, things must be bad out there,” Maddie said. “Stacey is usually so unshakeable,
even about her family.”

“We certainly have been in our own little cookie world,” Olivia said. “Unbeknownst
to us, the press—as in the notorious paparazzi—has descended upon Chatterley Heights.
That’s what the rest of my voice mails and texts are about.”

“Mine, too.” Maddie jumped to her feet and stretched toward the ceiling. “With the
most important party of my life coming up the day after tomorrow…”

“I know, Maddie. I’m so sorry all this is happening right now. This is supposed to
be your time.”

“Oh, I’m not fussing about that,” Maddie said. “We’re missing all the action. We can’t
bake or decorate right now, anyway. Not until we have clean dishes, cooled cookies,
and more ingredients. I’m inclined to give Jennifer a test run right away and see
how she does with the shopping. Give me a few minutes to send our lists to her via
email.”
Maddie cocked her eyebrow as she gave Olivia a once-over. “You could use a shower
and a change of clothes. Meanwhile, I’ll dust myself off while I wait to hear from
Jennifer. Then, my sleuthing friend, let us make tracks for your childhood home and
sink ourselves knee deep into this mess. Remember, Stacey Harald and I go way back,
too. Stacey and her kids need us! Or was that over-the-top?”