Dead Men Don't Eat Cookies (20 page)

“Lenora is remarkably adept at scavenging,” Del said. “If she were here, she would pick at our plates of extra food until there was nothing left for us to take home.”

“It’s a survival skill.” As Olivia poured herself more coffee, she recalled how frequently Lenora had pilfered food from her companions’ plates while protesting that her appetite was too tiny to require a full meal. “Her husband, Bernie, was a well-known producer, but apparently they spent every dime he earned on lavish living.”

“I suppose it was good while it lasted.” Del reached toward Olivia’s plate. “If you aren’t going to finish that last bite of meatloaf, I could—”

Olivia’s left eyebrow arched in warning as she curved a protective left arm around her plate. Her right hand hovered over her silverware “I wouldn’t try it, if I were you. I have a fork, and I know how to use it.” Olivia became aware that
conversation had ceased at two nearby tables. She slid her last morsel of meatloaf onto her fork and ate it.

“Well, that was fun,” Del said as he filled their two cups with coffee.

“Back to bleak reality,” Olivia said. “I still wonder why Binnie chose to send those photos only to Mom and me. It felt personal.”

Del’s mouth was full of potato, so he limited his response to a shrug.

“I guess I’ll have to wait and see.” Olivia dreaded the prospect. If those photos appeared online, might they hurt business? Maybe. On the other hand, a number of customers had witnessed Lenora’s behavior, and so far no one seemed to be boycotting The Gingerbread House. Olivia decided to worry about business later. She was nearly out of lunch hour and still had questions. “So according to rumor,” she said, “you and some crime lab folks have finally carted off those bones for analysis.”

“Word gets around fast,” Del said with a lopsided grin.

“I suppose eons will pass before the crime lab finds time to do . . . whatever it is they’ll do?”
Nicely phrased, Livie. I need to pick up some professional jargon.

Del chuckled. “Yes, we took everything down to the dust. As for how long before forensic analysis gets under way, I’m guessing they will start at once. We found a few surprises.” Del drained the last of his coffee. “I might as well tell you. If it isn’t all over town now, it will be very soon. I wouldn’t want you to be the last to know.”

The diner was emptying fast, so Olivia assumed they weren’t likely to have an audience. However, Ida was heading toward their table bearing a stack of takeout boxes. “Pete wants me to box everything up for you. Easy for him. I ran myself ragged serving all those customers. You’d think they hadn’t eaten in a week. My feet hurt, and my back don’t feel so good neither. But don’t you dare tell that to my kids. They’ll
use it as an excuse to shove me into an old folks home. I’ll go to an old folks home when I’m dead and not a minute before.” She sighed heavily as she began to fill the first container with Olivia’s leftovers.

Olivia grabbed the plate and to-go container away from Ida. “Sit down, for heaven’s sake. I’ll do that.” Olivia pushed the coffee carafe toward her. “Help us finish off this coffee. Pete won’t mind, and you know it.” She took a clean cup from a nearby table and handed it to Ida.

Del poured the steaming liquid into their three cups. As he passed around the sugar and cream, he asked, “I suppose both of you intend to take this opportunity to pump me for privileged information?”

“Good idea,” Ida said. “First off, I’d like to know if it’s true there was more in that wall than poor Kenny Vayle. I heard you found two, maybe three heads, plus a big pile of arm and leg bones, all sorts of sizes. So what was going on in that old flophouse? Some sort of devil worship? Maybe one of those serial killers we keep seeing on television?”

Olivia started to laugh, then stifled the urge when she saw the serious look on Del’s face. Ida saw it, too. “I thought so.” She crossed her arms over her skinny chest and nodded smugly.

Del topped off his coffee and added more cream. He chewed a forkful of apple pie, then another. To Olivia, Del’s silence suggested there might be some truth to Ida’s wild speculation. Olivia sipped her own coffee and waited for him to decide how much information to reveal with Ida present. She could always try to get more details out of him later.

Ida planted her elbows on the table and leaned in, as if she were about to share a secret. “When I was a girl,” she said, “my mama told me a story about that old boarding house. Of course, it was in better shape back then, but the Great Depression had already started to wear the place down before I was born. Mama told me that men down on their luck would go
out looking for work during the day. Once it got dark, they’d gather in that boarding house and sleep on the floor, sometimes ten or more to a room. Mama used to say the place was haunted, too. When she was twelve or so, she and her brothers would sneak out after bedtime and hide in the bushes around that building. They’d peek through the windows to see what was going on inside.” Ida leaned in even closer and lowered her voice. “One hot summer night they heard screams coming from one of the rooms on the top floor. I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s bones in every one of those rooms.”

Olivia realized she’d been holding her breath.

Ida glanced up at Pete’s Audubon wall clock. “Well, I can’t sit around gossiping all day. I’ve got too much to do before we have to get ready for the dinner shift. Pete wants me to run some errands.” She lumbered to her feet, grabbed her coat off the nearby rack, and shuffled toward the diner door without clearing the table.

“Well, well,” Olivia said, once the door had shut behind Ida. “That was an interesting story. Although I doubt those screams of agony came from poor Kenny Vayle, given he hadn’t been born yet. Oh, and by the way, congratulations. You managed to avoid telling Ida anything about what you actually discovered.”

Del barely smiled. He stared toward the diner’s front window as Ida shuffled past. Olivia felt a prick of concern. “Del? Are you feeling all right?”

Del leaned against the back of his chair, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Livie, if you were to hazard a guess, would you say that Ida made up that story about her mother hearing screams from the second floor of the boarding house?”

“I’m not sure my guess would be worth the hazard,” Olivia said. “I don’t agree with Ida’s kids that she is ready for the old folks home, but she is in her mid-seventies. She heard that story from her mother many decades ago, so she might be misremembering or embellishing. Besides, Ida’s mother
might have fabricated the entire story simply to entertain her young daughter. Is it important?”

“Maybe.” Del went silent again.

“Del, you’re driving me nuts. I can’t stand the suspense. What are you not telling me?”

Del shifted his chair closer to hers. “You have to promise me, Livie . . . Promise you’ll keep this to yourself at least until tomorrow. I may have more information then. The crime lab folks intend to work all night, if that’s what it takes.”

“The crime lab . . . ?” Olivia slumped down in her seat. “Yes, all right, I promise. We’ll be busy working at the store this afternoon, and Maddie can bake alone tonight, if that’s what it takes for me to keep my mouth shut.”

Del scanned the nearly empty diner and seemed satisfied he wouldn’t be overheard. Lowering his voice, he said, “When the crime lab removed those bones from the boarding house wall, they found a couple surprises underneath.”

“Surprises? Like what? Was there a weapon?”

Del shook his head and leaned closer to Olivia. “The first surprise is right up your alley. In fact, we’ll want to draw upon your expertise, as well as Anita’s.”

“Anita? Are you saying you found some antique cookie cutters while you were removing those bones?” Anita Rambert ran an antiques mall and was a leading local expert on vintage and antique cookie cutters. Olivia felt a shiver of anticipation. “Please, I beg of you, let me see them before Anita does. She’ll know more about their worth, but I’ll be more excited.”

Del’s smile came and went in a flash. “I’ll take it under advisement,” he said. “There was a second surprise, as well . . . a more sobering one.”

Olivia held her breath as Del shifted his chair closer to hers. “We found more remains.”

For an instant, Olivia wondered if Del might be setting her up for a joke. He’d never played such a trick on her before, but . . . No, the look in his eyes was serious, even
somber. However, she tamped down on her excitement and asked, calmly, “When you say remains, do you mean . . . ?”

“Human bones. To be specific, an extra skeleton. There were two bodies in that wall. And both were human.” Del sank against the back of his chair as if he’d just finished running a marathon.

“Whoa,” Olivia whispered. “Did they find any clues as to whose remains they might be?”

Del shrugged one shoulder. “We’re not sure. They believe the extra skeleton to be older than the bones presumed to have belonged to Kenny Vayle.”

“How much older?” Olivia asked.

“Yet to be determined.”

“This case just gets more and more intriguing,” Olivia whispered. “I don’t suppose there was another cookie cutter necklace.”

Del shook his head. “But we did discover something else. “The second skull had what looked to be a bullet hole in it.”

“Wow.” Olivia touched his arm. “Del, do you realize how difficult it will be for me to keep this from Maddie?”

“Nevertheless,” Del said. “If it would help, I could put you in protective custody.”

“It may come to
that.”

Following lunch with Del, Olivia hurried back to The Gingerbread House, distracted by her growing list of questions about the startling information he had revealed to her. The discovery of a second skeleton—with a bullet hole in the skull, no less—intrigued her. Olivia salivated at the thought of those antique cookie cutters the forensic team had uncovered. But she had promised Del to keep that information secret, at least for a while. It wouldn’t be easy. Surely Maddie would notice the sparkle in her eyes. However, a promise was a promise, and Olivia was touched by Del’s willingness, finally, to trust her with inside information about a murder investigation. She wouldn’t break her word, even if she had to glue her mouth shut and communicate through sign language. If only she knew sign language . . .

It was nearly one-thirty p.m. by the time Olivia climbed the steps up to her front porch. Once inside, she paused in the foyer to compose herself before entering The Gingerbread House. Maddie might sense her excitement, so Olivia tried to focus on a depressing topic, like the coming of winter. She
envisioned short days, frigid winds, cold and flu viruses . . . but soon her thoughts drifted to holiday baking, colorful decorations, and carols. Well, there was always Del’s offer of protective custody.

Olivia took a deep breath and grabbed the doorknob. It didn’t turn. She stepped back to get a look in the front window and realized the heavy curtain was drawn shut.
That curtain should be open.
Why would The Gingerbread House be closed up tight at one-thirty on a Wednesday afternoon?

Olivia dug into her jacket pocket for her key. When she unlocked the front door, she found the foyer empty and the Gingerbread House door shut. She turned the knob. It, too, was locked. There was no note on the door. Her heart pounding, she slid her key into the lock, opened the door, and quickly scanned the sales floor. There was no sign of life. Spunky’s chair by the window was empty.

“Spunky?” Olivia’s voice squeaked. She took a deep breath to quell her anxiety. “Spunks, are you there, boy?” The little guy came trotting out of the cookbook nook to greet her as if nothing were wrong. Once she realized Spunky wasn’t upset, Olivia’s heart rate began to drop closer to normal. She scooped the little Yorkie into her arms, and said, “Hey, Spunks, what’s up around here? Are we in an alternate universe? Where is everyone?”

Spunky launched a volley of yaps, which revived Olivia’s apprehension. “Hey, slow down, kiddo. What’s going on here? Where’s Maddie?” Spunky licked her face. She tucked his small, wriggling body under her arm and strode toward the kitchen door. As she reached for the knob, the door opened. Bertha’s plump, worried face peeked out.

“Oh, thank goodness.” Bertha’s face disappeared, and Olivia heard her say, “Livie is finally back. What? Oh, of course.” The door opened wide, and Bertha pulled Olivia into the kitchen. Spunky squirmed eagerly as he entered forbidden territory. “I’m so sorry I didn’t hear you arrive, Livie,” Bertha said. “I guess we were all talking at once.”

Olivia paused to take stock of the scene in the crowded kitchen. Her mother, her legs tucked under her petite body, occupied one of the two kitchen chairs. Ellie’s husband, Allan, stood next to his wife’s chair, a protective hand on her shoulder. The other chair had been pushed back from the table, perhaps when Bertha left to find out why Spunky had been yapping. Maddie sat on the kitchen counter, swinging her legs and leaning against her lanky husband, Lucas Ashford.

Olivia was most surprised by the kitchen’s sixth inhabitant. Polly Franz, the indomitable force behind the Chatterley Heights Homeless Shelter, stood near the sink, a full glass of water in her hand. “Hey, Livie,” Polly said. “I guess you’re wondering why we’re all gathered together in the kitchen. Oh dear, that sounds like a line from a murder mystery—you know, where the sleuth is about to reveal the killer?” Polly’s good-natured face lost its ruddy color. “I didn’t mean . . . I’m sure everything will turn out fine.”

Ellie’s small hand reached back to touch Polly’s arm. “We must all pull together to make certain of that,” she said. “Now that Livie has joined us, perhaps we can make some progress. Livie is quite the planner, aren’t you, dear?”

“What the heck is going on here, Mom?” Olivia handed her pup to Ellie. “Hang on tight,” she said. “I’m not eager to scrub down the kitchen again.”

“Of course, dear. We’ll be fine, won’t we, little one?” Spunky settled on Ellie’s lap, content to observe the babbling humans.

Olivia noticed that Mr. Coffee’s carafe was almost empty. “I need coffee,” she said. “While I make a fresh pot, will someone please explain to me what this is all about? Why is the store closed? And if it’s closed for a good reason, shouldn’t we tape a sign on the door?” Olivia gave Maddie a questioning look.

“I leap up to obey,” Maddie said. “Or rather, I leap down.” She slid off the counter and headed toward the small desk
that Olivia kept supplied with paper and pens. “I shall return in a trice,” Maddie said as she headed into the sales area.

“Mom, what’s wrong? It must be serious for Maddie to close the store without warning.” Olivia rinsed out the dregs in Mr. Coffee’s carafe and refilled it with fresh water.

Ellie straightened in her seat and closed her eyes. An instant later, she reopened them, and said, “There, I am about as centered as I can manage at the moment. I called everyone together, Livie, because I’m quite worried about Alicia. She has disappeared.”

“Now, Ellie,” Allan said, “let’s not go overboard here. The truth is, she simply went off without telling us where she was going or when she’d return. She did leave us—”

“Allan, I sense danger.” Ellie’s firm tone silenced her husband. With a good-natured shrug, he yielded the floor.

“Thank you, dear.” Ellie again closed her eyes and took several deep breaths before continuing. “Livie, we’re so sorry to interrupt your working hours, but we do have a dilemma. You see, Allan and I went out for breakfast this morning and then to do some grocery shopping, and when we returned home, Alicia was gone. We checked her room and found some of her clothes missing. A few hangers had fallen on the closet floor, as if she’d been in a hurry. On the kitchen counter, we found this . . .” Ellie pulled a small square of folded paper from the pocket of her size two jeans. “Read it, Livie.”

Maddie slipped back into the kitchen as Olivia unfolded the paper, and read aloud: “
Ellie and Allan, thanks so much for helping me, but I need to leave right now. I can’t explain yet, but it’s really important. There’s someone I have to talk to right away. I promise I’ll be back, though I’m not sure when. Don’t worry about me. If this goes well, I’ll have someone to help me. Alicia.
” Olivia skimmed through the note again before handing it back to her mother. “Do you have the slightest idea what Alicia is talking about or who this someone might be?”

Ellie exchanged a quick glance with her husband. “I think we might,” she said. “This is where Polly has been so helpful.
You see, Allan and I had breakfast this morning at the Chatterley Café, and we ran into Polly. She told us an interesting story. Tell her, Polly.”

“Of course,” Polly said. “You see, the Chatterley Café donates the most delicious food to the shelter, which is so generous and much appreciated by our guests. It’s simply wonderful of them to—”

“I should explain,” Ellie said, “that Polly always brings along a shelter guest or two to help transport the food back to the shelter.”

“They are always volunteers, of course,” Polly said. “I wouldn’t presume to—”

“Certainly not, dear.” Ellie softened her second interruption with a smile. “Yesterday evening, Polly’s volunteer helper was a man named Jack, who’d appeared at the shelter a few hours earlier. He told Polly he had lived in Chatterley Heights some years ago. He was down on his luck but said he wanted to come back to town only because his stepdaughter lives here.”

“I see,” Olivia said. “And you think the stepdaughter might be Alicia, and that Alicia disappeared to be with this man? Did he disappear, too?”

“Well, yes and no,” Polly said. “He was gone this morning, but he’d left his few belongings behind, along with a note asking me to save them for him until he returned from a job interview. He signed the note with only his first name, just like he signed the shelter register. So many of my guests are reluctant to give their last names, and I don’t push.”

“Perhaps Jack actually did have a job interview,” Olivia said. “Maybe he wants to settle down near family. This all might be one big coincidence.”

“Oh my, I suppose that’s true.” Polly began to tear up. “I do get carried away with the sad stories I hear from the poor dears who come to the shelter. My guests have gone through such terrible times. The last few years have been so—”

“Here’s an idea,” Maddie said, a shade too cheerily.
“Let’s assume, for now, that your guest might be a ‘person of interest,’ as the cops on television say. That means we should be prepared to question him if and when he returns for his belongings.”

Maddie shot Olivia a look that said
This might be important. We don’t have time to dither.
Olivia gave her a faint nod of assent, then asked, “Polly, could you describe this man for us?”

“Yes, of course.” Polly’s plump cheeks bunched as she smiled. “Well, Jack is tall, at least six feet, maybe more. Quite thin, too, which so many of my guests are, especially the ones who lost their jobs early in the recession.” Polly blinked rapidly. “But we don’t have time to dwell on such things now,” she said in a soft voice. “Jack looked to be about midforties, although his skin was roughened by being outdoors so much in winter. His hair was mostly gray, with some brown streaks, a bit long but not shaggy. Rather a good-looking man, all things considered. Kind eyes . . . blue, I think. He was very polite and respectful, which is why I chose him to help me with the Chatterley Café food donations. Does that help?”

“Perfect,” Olivia said. “Did you notice what Jack was wearing?”

Polly nodded vigorously, sending a lock of straight gray hair swinging across her cheek. “Worn jeans and a flannel shirt with red and white checks—what I would call working clothes for a man who has worked in construction. I’m so pleased to see that construction is picking up again. Perhaps you are right that Jack had a job interview somewhere. Wouldn’t that be lovely?” Polly’s smile faded. “Except then we’d have no clue where Alicia might have gone off to, would we?”

“Let’s not worry about that right now,” Ellie said. “We have a lead, as the police detectives say, and that’s what counts.”

“Speaking of the police,” Olivia said, “why aren’t we talking to Del about all this?” When no one answered, she added, “I’ll take care of it when we’re finished here. Polly, we packed a box of cookies for you to bring back to the shelter. There are several dozen. It’s our treat. All we ask is that you call
Del and us at once if Jack returns, with or without Alicia, or if you hear from either one of them. Don’t ask him about her. Del can do that. We’ll take care of the rest.”

“I will,” Polly said. “Bless you both for the cookies. We do have more children at the shelter than usual. You’d be surprised what a difference it makes when we can offer them delicious treats. They just ooh and ah over your cookies.”

Olivia wasn’t at all surprised. She knew the power of decorated cookies.

“Maybe I ought to reopen the store,” Bertha said. “I’m worried that rumors might start flying. You know what Chatterley Heights is like. If you need me for anything, just poke your head out the kitchen door and holler.” She straightened her dress and fluffed her short hair.

Holding Spunky against her shoulder, Ellie unfurled from her chair with the smooth grace of an awakening flower bud. She handed Spunky to Bertha, and said, “Perhaps you might return this sweet creature to his rightful place out on the sales floor. Customers will be disappointed if he isn’t there to greet them.”

“I do so love your company, little one.” Bertha cuddled Spunky against her ample bosom. “You and I will mind the store together.” Spunky didn’t even whimper when she opened the door and carried him out of the kitchen.

“I noticed your faucet is dripping again.” It was the first time Lucas had spoken, which wasn’t unusual. “Lucky I brought a few tools. I’ll just fix it while I’m here. It won’t take but a minute.” Maddie gave her husband a thank-you kiss on the cheek, which made him smile and blush.

“Shouldn’t we let Crystal know what is going on with her daughter?” Ellie asked. “I would certainly want to be informed if one of my children might have disappeared with a strange man.”

“Let’s hold off for a while,” Olivia said. “Crystal isn’t you, Mom. And Robbie . . . well, I suspect Robbie would say ‘good riddance’ to Alicia. He clearly despised Kenny, and he probably
considers Alicia as weak and useless as her father. I’m beginning to wonder if this Jack fellow was Crystal’s second so-called husband. Maybe Robbie didn’t come along until later.”

“Well, um . . .” Lucas Ashford drew his head out from under the faucet he’d been working on. When he turned to face the group, his chiseled features registered concern and a touch of shyness. “About Robbie,” he said. “He’s a regular customer at the hardware store. We supply most of the tools and materials for his construction projects because, well . . .”