Read A Cookie Before Dying Online

Authors: Virginia Lowell

A Cookie Before Dying (33 page)

“Me, too.” Olivia did not say aloud that Charlie almost certainly stole the cookie cutters from The Gingerbread House. She suspected he’d taken the Duesenberg cutter, too. Had he given it to Jason? Did the cutter fall out of Charlie’s or Jason’s pocket during a struggle with Geoffrey King? If so, the Duesenberg might have been King’s dying attempt to identify his killer . . . and one sister was about to lose a baby brother.
Chapter Twenty
Olivia walked the short distance back from The Vegetable Plate with ideas tumbling around in her head like cookie cutter mobiles in a windstorm. Each one tantalized her, but she couldn’t decide which to grab. Charlene Critch clearly hated her ex-husband enough to kill him, especially since he persistently threatened, blackmailed, and stole from both her and her beloved brother. Moreover, Olivia now knew that Charlie Critch had stolen at least six of the seven cookie cutters missing from The Gingerbread House. Olivia was willing to bet he’d also stolen the Duesenberg cutter found in Geoffrey King’s dead hand. Had he meant to give the cutter to Jason, who had wanted it so much? Did he, in fact, give the Duesenberg to Olivia’s brother before King’s murder?
Heather Irwin seemed genuinely contrite about nearly running Olivia down with her truck. She claimed that King struck her because she’d confronted him about stealing from her, which sounded in character for him. On the surface, Heather appeared shy and quiet. Underneath, she was smart, determined, and gutsy. She did her homework and planned ahead, all useful characteristics for someone bent on revenge.
Heather had revealed one intriguing bit of information. It seemed that Geoffrey King was drawn to knives, and he made a habit of aiming for the faces of his victims. King himself died from a knife wound. Valentina Larssen’s lovely face was disfigured as the result of a knife wound. Maybe King had threatened to slash her other cheek as well. If Ida’s recollection was correct, Valentina had a violent, nighttime encounter with King in the park—and a very protective father. All of which might be no more than a string of coincidences . . . but something to keep in mind.
“Were you planning to come inside sometime today?” Maddie’s question reached Olivia through an open side window in The Gingerbread House. “You’ve been standing out there forever, lost in thought.”
“Have I? Sorry.” When Olivia focused on Maddie’s face, she realized something was wrong. Maddie’s freckles looked darker than usual against the pallor of her skin.
“We sort of need you in here,” Maddie said. “Desperately.”
“What’s happened? Is it Jason?”
“Only indirectly,” Maddie said. “Come see for yourself. I’ll meet you around back.”
When Olivia arrived at the alley entrance, Maddie stood waiting in the open doorway. She locked the door behind them. Without a word, Maddie opened the kitchen laptop.
“I have a very, very bad feeling about this,” Olivia said, recognizing Binnie Sloan’s blog spot on the screen.
“You’ll feel worse after you read it,” Maddie said. “At least there aren’t any pictures.” The kitchen phone rang. “That’ll be doom calling,” Maddie said as she reached for the receiver. “I’ll negotiate our execution date. You read.”
Olivia took a couple deep breaths and read:
Our intrepid girl sleuths, Olivia Greyson and Maddie Briggs, are at it again. With her brother, Jason, in stir on a murder
rap, Olivia has resorted to breaking the law herself to dig up (or conjure up?) evidence to clear him. Our paper, the
weekly Chatter,
has received an exclusive eyewitness report that Olivia and Maddie broke into the Chatterley Heights Dance Studio early this morning, while our handsome and mysterious Latin dance teacher, Raoul, prayed at St. Francis Catholic Church. Were the inseparable girl detectives looking for evidence . . . or were they planting it? We suspect they read too many Bobbsey Twins books as gullible children. Since Olivia returned to Chatterley Heights after years of big-city living, she has found herself mired in crime more than the average shop owner. So we have to wonder... What next? Check out the
Weekly Chatter
’s daily blog entries to keep up wi th the antics of our very own Nancy Drew and her sidekick, George. We welcome information and pay for photos.
As Olivia read through the piece again, her anxiety began to fade. She had an idea, or at least a crumb of an idea. She closed her eyes to let her mind chew on it for a while.
“How can you nap at a time like this?” Maddie flopped into a chair, ignoring the ringing phone. “I’ve answered four calls already. I’m going to tear that phone out of the wall in a minute.” Binnie’s blog entry was still on the laptop screen. Maddie snapped the lid closed to hide it. “Livie Greyson, we’re about to get sent up the river with your brother, and you . . . you are smiling. Explain yourself.”
Olivia lifted the laptop lid and pointed to the screen. “This piece of journalistic tripe is probably libelous,” she said, “but it couldn’t be more perfect for us.” The phone began ringing again. “This could save us a lot of time.”
“Or waste it.” Maddie jumped up, took the ringing phone off the hook, and hung it up. Before it could ring again, she dropped the receiver on the table. “I learned about this so quickly because one of Lucas’s employees is hooked on that blog. She was checking it on her cell phone when that entry showed up. How does Binnie get away with this?”
Olivia got up and put the phone back on the hook. “I’ll deal with the calls in here. You keep track of your cell phone messages,” she said. “All part of the plan.”
“What plan?” Maddie was approaching hysteria.
The phone rang, and Olivia answered at once.
A strong, firm voice said, “Livie, it’s Constance Overton. Thought I’d give you a heads-up. I called the sheriff and told him there was no break-in, that I’d given you a key to the dance studio to check something out for me. He sounded quizzical until I played the wheelchair card—you know, poor me, can’t climb stairs and so on. I’ll let you know later how many dozen cookies you owe me.”
“It’s worth every pound of butter,” Olivia said. “Besides, it’ll be fun to watch you plump up.”
“Won’t happen,” Constance said. “My metabolism still thinks I play basketball. Good luck with whatever it is you and Maddie have gotten yourselves into this time. By the way, when do I get my key back?”
“If you can wait till tomorrow, I’ll deliver it with cookies,” Olivia said.
“Agreed.”
Olivia hung up and turned to Maddie, who was sucking on her lower lip and checking her messages. “Constance cleared us of breaking-and-entering charges,” Olivia said. “We owe her big time. And speaking of cookies, how many ballet ones do we have?”
“At least six dozen, maybe more,” Maddie said. “As you can see, I’ve been working off my jitters.” She waved her hand around the kitchen. Olivia had been so involved with immediate crises that she hadn’t noticed the piles of dirty baking pans and utensils. Maddie opened the refrigerator door to reveal stacks of covered cake pans. “I’m trying to get the icing to harden more quickly,” she said.
“Excellent,” Olivia said. “Put half of them around the sales floor as soon as you remind me how to post a response to Binnie’s blog. Oh, and would you ask Mom to come talk to me as soon as she can free herself from customers?”
“How about you tell me what’s going on here.” The color was returning to Maddie’s cheeks.
“Fair enough,” Olivia said. “We’re having a celebration right after closing tonight. A few select guests will be invited. I’ve asked Del to bring Jason here, but we’ll do this even if he refuses. I’m pretty sure that whoever killed Geoffrey King will be among our guests.”
“What’s to stop them from simply leaving town and disappearing?”
“After Binnie’s latest blog entry? That would be like painting ‘I’m guilty’ on their back. I think it’s more likely the killer might try to throw suspicion onto someone else.”
“Okay, I’m game. Let me get you started on that blog entry. Hit Binnie between the eyes for me.” Maddie opened the laptop and showed Olivia how to post a response. “Whatever you say, it’ll be around town in minutes. Everyone is glued to this blog. Look, two new posts just appeared.” She skimmed the entries. “Great, some high school kid is accusing his former physics teacher of the ‘town square massacre.’ Sounds like
somebody
should have studied for his physics final.” Maddie stood up. “All yours.” She arranged a tray of ballet cookies and headed to the sales floor.
Olivia’s post to Binnie’s blog was simple. She announced that Jason had been released due to new evidence gathered by the police, who expected to make an arrest very soon. The Gingerbread House, she said, would offer decorated ballerina cookies to well-wishers until closing at six p.m.
“Are you interruptible, Livie?” Ellie’s gentle face appeared around the edge of the kitchen door. “Maddie seems to think you have a plan that includes me. If it involves saving Jason, I will do anything.”
“I know, Mom. You’re probably the only one who could pull this off. I need you to convince Charlene and Charlie to come to The Gingerbread House after closing today. I’m hoping Del will agree to bring Jason here, since I’ve been spreading it around town that he is being released.”
Ellie pulled a handful of hair over her shoulder and began to braid the bottom half. “I see what you are doing, Livie, and I think it is dangerous. I know it works well in Agatha Christie novels when the detective gathers the suspects in one room and starts flinging accusations about, but this is the real world. Someone might get hurt. Oh, I wish Allan weren’t out of town.”
“Tomorrow morning, Jason will be transported to Circuit Court for arraignment. I don’t have time to wrench information out of the suspects one by one. I need to get everyone talking fast. This is the only way I can think of to make that happen.”
Olivia practiced patience while her mother unbraided her hair, then began again. Finally, Ellie tossed her hair over her shoulder and said, “I’ve got it. I know exactly how to get Charlene and Charlie to come here.”
“Just like that?” Olivia asked. “How?”
“Were you aware that not one single person showed up for Charlene’s first Healthy Eating Club meeting?”
“I’d forgotten all about that,” Olivia said. “And your point would be . . . ?”
“I’ll offer to help her get the club going. I can produce quite a number of friends, you know. While Charlene is feeling grateful and unsuspecting, I’ll ask her to bring Charlie and join us to welcome Jason home. Charlie will do anything Charlene tells him to do.”
“Clever. I appreciate the sacrifice.”
“Oh, it’s no sacrifice, Livie. You and Maddie will be going with me to the Healthy Eating Club. It will be such fun to spend time with both of you.” With a motherly kiss on Olivia’s forehead, Ellie said, “I’ll go talk to Charlene and Charlie right now. Be back in a jiffy.”
Olivia took time to visualize a sea of swirling blue icing before calling Heather Irwin. It was easy to convince Heather to drop by the store after closing for Jason’s homecoming. After nearly running Olivia down with her truck, Heather jumped at the chance to show goodwill.
Next Olivia called Constance Overton.
“Livie,” Constance said, “I was just thinking about you. And those cookies you owe me. . . .”
“Good, because I’m calling to put myself further in your debt. I’ll owe you cookies for the next decade.”
“Sounds delectable. What do you need?”
“I want Raoul Larssen to come here to the store after closing this evening. And I want him to bring his daughter, Valentina.”
“His
daughter
? You didn’t tell—”
“No time, Constance.” Olivia quickly summarized what she’d discovered at the dance studio. “At the very least, Valentina is a probable witness to King’s murder.”
“Well, I guess I could play the heavy,” Constance said, “and tell Raoul that I was ready to throw him out for breaking the terms of the lease, but you talked me out of it. Maybe you offered to pay the extra for the girl. I’ll strongly suggest they visit you this evening to shower you with thanks. Something along those lines.”
“That’s better than any idea I came up with. If they don’t show up, I’ll have to go to them. Thanks, Constance.”
“Sure. Only now I want more than cookies in exchange. I hear you got a nice inheritance recently.”
“You want my inheritance?”
“Don’t be silly,” Constance said. “I pull in a hundred thousand a year. No, I want you to make The Gingerbread House wheelchair accessible.”
“Done.”
“And I want you to convince the other stores in town to do the same.”
“Done and done.”
Chapter Twenty-one

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