Dead Men Don't Eat Cookies (15 page)

Olivia returned Alicia safely to Ellie and Allan’s house by eleven p.m., as she had promised her mother. Their after-dinner baking session had failed to provide much helpful information about Kenny Vayle, but Olivia had to admit they’d gotten to know Alicia far better. That girl was feisty and determined, no doubt about it. Her deeper awareness had left Olivia feeling uneasy. If Alicia tried to investigate on her own, she might put herself in real danger.

It was eleven fifteen p.m. by the time Olivia returned to the Gingerbread House kitchen, where she found Maddie staring at the laptop screen, her hands poised over the keyboard.

“Please tell me you’ve cracked the case,” Olivia said as she hung her jacket on a wall hook near the door. “I’ll feel better when we’ve made some progress. At least, I hope I will.”

“I’ll need at least five more minutes,” Maddie said, “and sustenance.”

Olivia went straight to the refrigerator, where she had left defrosted cookies in a covered cake pan. She brought
the pan over to the table. Police work required doughnuts, Olivia reasoned, so she and Maddie deserved cookies, right?

“Sustenance coming right up,” Olivia said, “with caffeine close behind.” She poured water into Mr. Coffee’s reservoir and lowered the lid. “I can’t wait a whole five minutes. Have you found out anything at all?” Olivia measured coffee grounds into the basket and punched Mr. Coffee’s on button.

“Ah yes,” Maddie said. “I believe I have indeed found an interesting tidbit. Remember that strange blog I showed you? The one showing a photo of a younger Alicia and her bleary-eyed father?”

“And Kenny seemed to be wearing a necklace . . . yes, I remember.” Olivia deposited coffee cups, a carton of cream, and the sugar bowl near the spitting coffeemaker.

“Well, genius that I am, I have identified the blogger as Kurt, and I’ve found out his last name. Are you ready for this? It’s Kurtzel.”

“Kurt Kurtzel? Are you kidding me? That’s just plain evil. No wonder he has anger issues. Is Kurt really one of those guys who lives in a basement and blogs day and night? How did you find out about him?”

“Good questions.” Maddie stood up and stretched. “I will tell all, but first, coffee and a cookie.” She poured steaming Italian roast into her cup, leaving plenty of room for cream and sugar. Bearing coffee plus a rose-shaped cookie decorated with baby blue icing and sapphire pearlized sprinkles, Maddie returned to her computer. “I have to admit that finding Kurt wasn’t hard. He maintains an enthusiastic online presence, including on Twitter, where his contributions are snarky, though not in a clever, interesting way. He criticizes famous people, rich people, poor people . . . well, pretty much everyone. Kurt’s tweets would be totally boring except that sometimes he seems to have personal information about people he is unlikely to have met, as well as people he knows. He never comes out and reveals a secret, but his hints contain just enough substance to make him sound knowledgeable.”

“Allen might be right that Kurt is doing some hacking.” Olivia carted her coffee and cookie over to the table and sat down. As usual, Maddie’s fingers tapped the keyboard with a speed and accuracy that Olivia couldn’t imagine possessing. “I’ll admit that I’m not an expert on the ways of Twitter,” Olivia said. “Mom keeps pressuring me to join Facebook, but I’m just too tired at night to hang out on social networks.”

“Luckily, you have me,” Maddie said. “I could happily tap keys all night, which is a good thing because otherwise this store would have no online presence.” Maddie lifted her fingers from the computer keys and glanced at the cookie Olivia was about to taste. “There’s something disturbing about a moss green rose with lavender sprinkles,” Maddie said. “Not one of my better color combinations. Thank you for eating it.”

“I thought you’d want me to make the evidence disappear.” Olivia sampled a small bite. “Yum. It tastes much more palatable than it looks.”

“Of course it does. When it comes to flavoring, I never err.” A red curl bounced against Maddie’s forehead as she nodded toward the computer screen. “Kurt Kurtzel does seem to harbor resentments against a significant number of people. Online, Kurt comes across as hypercritical, sometimes in a whiny way. Maybe that’s really why Pete threw him out of the diner.”

“Pete never could stand a whiner,” Olivia said. “He’s even harder on men who behave disrespectfully to women, which is how Kurt was behaving toward Alicia. The more I think about it, firing Alicia because of her ex-boyfriend’s behavior seems out of character for Pete. I wonder if he knows more about Kurt than we’ve uncovered so far.”

“Not unless he keeps a techie gnome in the kitchen.” Maddie reached both arms toward the ceiling to loosen her shoulders. “Given Pete’s background as a prizefighter, he might sense when someone is wound up too tight.”

“Do you think Kurt might be making up the information he tweets?” Olivia asked.

Maddie leaned back in her chair and stretched out her legs.
“I’ll grant you, social networks seem to invite carelessness when it comes to the truth, but you can still get into hot water if you outright lie about someone and they know who you are.” She scrolled down the screen to another of Kurt’s posts. “I suspect that’s why Kurt sticks to innuendo, for the most part, but . . .”

“But what?”

Maddie’s freckled forehead puckered as she stared at the screen. “Listen to this one,” she said. “
Dirty work at the diner? Don’t eat the meatloaf!
”

“Whoa, that’s personal. Was that posted today?”

Maddie nodded. “Looks like it was posted soon after Pete chased Kurt out of the diner. So Kurt must have left for a while and then returned later.” She closed the lid of her computer. “My laptop is running out of juice. I’d better plug it in.” Her gaze swept the kitchen. “Oops, forgot my charger.”

Olivia rolled her shoulders and heard a cracking sound. Maybe it was time to join her mom’s yoga classes . . . or restock some shelves, which sounded much more stimulating. “I can’t remember hearing Pete say even one word about social networks, can you? I have a hard time picturing him glued to a screen, engrossed in Twitter. He never bothers to advertise the diner. It does just fine through word of mouth.”

“A customer might warn him about a nasty post,” Maddie said. “Pete has loyal fans, and many of them are young and tech savvy. Kurt might not have thought of that. Maybe he indulged in a bit of passive-aggressive revenge, figuring he could hurt the diner’s reputation without Pete finding out.”

“In Chatterley Heights?” Olivia drained her cup in one cold gulp. “If that’s true, it’s hard to believe that Kurt actually grew up around here. Anyone in town who reads this post—and understands what it means—would tell Pete at once.”

“And Kurt would be dead meat,” Maddie said, “figuratively speaking, of course. Pete is careful to avoid physical confrontation, but he finds other ways to protect his reputation. I’ve heard him slice someone into bits with a few well-chosen
words. If Kurt shows up at the diner again, I’d love to be a termite in the wall. Or am I thinking of the wrong insect?”

“I like your version, although you might avoid mentioning termites in the wall and Pete’s Diner in the same sentence.”

“At least I’m not mangling French.” Maddie opened her laptop and began to close down programs. “I think I’ll head home,” she said.

“Really?” Olivia checked the wall clock over the sink. “It isn’t even midnight yet. Are you feeling all right? This is so not like you. Ooh, are you—?”

“No, I’m not pregnant,” Maddie said. “Believe me, you would be the first I’d tell. Okay, you’d be the second, after Aunt Sadie. No wait, third. I’d tell Lucas first. Anyway, I’m heading home because my laptop needs charging, and I want to do more research.”

“You get to have all the fun.” Olivia rinsed out her coffee cup and put it in the dishwasher. “All right, I guess I’ll collect my snoozing pup and cart him upstairs.”

“Good idea. I’ll be back here in about three hours to get some baking done, but you get a good night’s sleep. You’re older than I . . . Uh-oh.” Maddie frowned at her laptop screen.

Olivia froze, leaving the kitchen door open a crack. “What’s wrong? Did your computer die?”

“Nope,” Maddie said. “But I almost wish it had. Sleep will have to wait a bit. An email arrived as I was about to shut down my email program. It’s . . . disturbing.”

“Maddie, you’re scaring me. What does it say?” Olivia closed the kitchen door before Spunky could slip inside. She heard him whine in protest.

Maddie swept a few disobedient curls off her forehead as she leaned closer to the screen. “This is Binnie’s work. She’s being even nastier than usual, and that’s saying a lot. But not to worry. All we need is a plan, as you keep telling me.”

“What has Binnie . . . ?” Olivia peered over Maddie’s shoulder. “Oh no, not those photos of Lenora . . .” She pulled over a kitchen chair and sat down. “I was afraid of this,”
Olivia said as Maddie scanned through four photos, all showing Lenora on the knee wall ledge in the cookbook nook. Binnie had captured Lenora in different positions, all humiliating. In the first photo, Lenora’s head hung forward as if she were sleeping. The second showed her reaching toward the ceiling as if pleading with the gods. In the third, she bent sideways, her arms flung out as she tried to keep her balance. In the fourth and final photo, Lenora appeared to be falling forward as disembodied hands reached up to catch her.

“Uh-oh,” Olivia said. “Some people can’t be trusted with smartphones.”

“Oh, Livie, Lenora did this to herself. She nearly fell twice before Binnie even showed up.”

“How humiliating,” Olivia said. “And how nasty of Binnie. We need to alert Gwen and Herbie.” She glanced at the clock. “It isn’t midnight yet. Do you suppose one of them might still be up tending to the animals?” Gwen and Herbie Tucker, both certified veterinarians, often stayed up late to nurse a sick or injured animal or to feed a litter of orphaned kittens a good Samaritan had dropped off at Chatterley Paws, their ever-expanding no-kill animal shelter.

A volley of fierce yaps, emanating from the sales floor, penetrated the closed kitchen door. Olivia spun around, and said, “What on earth . . .” Spunky quieted down for several seconds, then began again. “That doesn’t sound like his normal squirrel alert. I’d better go check.”

Olivia entered the sleeping sales floor, where the dim lighting cast eerie, shifting shadows as air currents jostled the cookie cutter mobiles hanging from the ceiling. Olivia spotted Spunky’s fluffy tail poking out from under the heavy curtain covering the large front window.

“Spunks,” Olivia called in a commanding voice. The tail withdrew under the curtain to be replaced by an equally fluffy Yorkie face. “What on earth was all that racket about?” Olivia pushed the curtain aside and peered out at the Gingerbread House porch. Spunky sat beside her and growled at something
only he could see or hear. Two lights illuminated the front section of the wraparound porch, where the rocking chair rested, empty and still, beside a small table. Olivia saw no sign of a recent human presence. “Well, Spunks, either you are seeing ghosts or you’re growling at nothing.” She let the curtain fall back into place.

Olivia returned to the kitchen, where Maddie sat in front of her closed laptop, nibbling on a cookie. “Spunky must have been hallucinating,” Olivia said as she sat down next to Maddie. “Now, where were we?”

“We were agreeing that we should call Herbie and Gwen to warn them about those awful photos of Lenora,” Maddie said, “and I volunteer to do so as soon as I get home. If they aren’t up with a sick animal, I’ll leave a message. But before I leave, there’s more you need to know.” She lifted the lid of her laptop, and the last photo sprang to life. “Now watch this.” She closed the photo attachment, revealing the original email.

Olivia stared at the computer screen. “So . . . those photos came as attachments to a blank email? How odd. Can you tell if she sent those photos to anyone else?”

“No other addresses show up, but she might have used blind copies so we couldn’t tell who else might have received these photos.” Maddie jumped up and began to pace around the kitchen table. “Binnie is taunting us. She wants to make us feel angry and helpless, probably to punish us for all the times we’ve made her look foolish. I’ll bet she intends to publish those photos on her horrible blog, and she wants us to believe we can’t stop her. She knows that everyone in town will recognize our cookbook nook in those photos. It’ll look like we got Lenora drunk . . . which we sort of did, but not on purpose. Picking on poor Lenora to get at us is really low.” Maddie closed the computer lid with a shade too much force. “I need to preserve what power I’ve got left, or we’ll need to go upstairs and fire up your laptop, which, by the way, you really need to replace with something that doesn’t date from the Stone Age. Anyway, Binnie probably sent this email to both our email addresses.”

Olivia ran her fingers through her flat, tangled hair, which, unlike Maddie’s fluffy curls, inevitably lost energy as the day wore on. “I suspect Binnie has more in mind than mere revenge. This feels like blackmail. Binnie is demonstrating to us how easily she can humiliate poor Lenora. At least, I assume no one else is receiving those photos, though I could be wrong. Binnie wants something from us, but what? When did this message come through?”