A Catered Christmas Cookie Exchange (A Mystery With Recipes) (14 page)

Bernie turned to Libby. “So are we done here?”

“Yes,” Libby replied. “Except for one question.”

“And that is?” Rose demanded.

“What about the car sitting in your garage?”

“You looked in my garage,” Rose repeated. “How intrusive.”

“Through the window,” Libby clarified.

“So now it’s a crime to have two cars?” Rose asked.

“Not at all. The reason my sister is asking,” Bernie said, “is because someone reported seeing Amber getting into a light-colored sedan similar to the one in your garage, right, Libby?”

“Right, Bernie,” Libby said.

“There must be at least five thousand light-colored sedans in this area,” Rose observed. “That particular vehicle belongs to my nephew, and it’s parked there because it needs a new engine.”

“Do you mind if we take a look at it?” Libby asked her. Rose raised her eyebrows as if to indicate that she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Of course I mind. You want to see it, get a warrant.” She looked at Libby and Bernie and smiled. “Oh wait.” She snapped her fingers. “That’s right. How silly of me. I forgot. You can’t get a warrant because you’re not the police and you have no legal standing whatsoever.”

“The only reason I haven’t called the police on both of you,” Sheila informed Bernie and Libby, “is because I’m concerned about Amber too and I want you to find her, which is why you might want to talk to Barbara Lazarus and Pearl Pepperpot.”

“Why them?” Bernie asked.

“Ask them and find out,” Sheila said. “I’m not doing your work for you. Now I think we are officially concluded here. I wish I could say it’s been a pleasure, but it definitely has not been.”

“So I guess that seeing the other structures on your property is out of the question?” Bernie asked.

Sheila’s property had an old horse barn and a pool house on it. The pool had been filled in by a previous owner, but the pool house had stayed, as had the horse barn.

“What do you think?” Sheila asked Bernie.

“I think that you’re going to tell me it’ll be fine.” Bernie turned to Rose. “See, I’m practicing positive visualization.”

“Too bad it’s not working,” Sheila said. “If I see you on my property I’m going to call the authorities immediately. Are we clear?”

“Totally,” Libby said.

“Good,” Sheila said.

Bernie gave Sheila her largest, most insincere smile and headed for the door.

“Good luck with those walnuts, Rose,” Libby called out as she followed her sister to the door.

She was not in a good mood when she got into the van. As far as she was concerned, she didn’t feel she was any closer to finding Amber than she was when she and Bernie had started. The fact that she didn’t have any chocolate left didn’t help matters either.

B
ernie turned to Libby after they’d cleared Sheila’s driveway and said, “You know . . .”

“I agree,” Libby said.

“With what?” Bernie asked. “I haven’t said anything yet?”

“That I don’t buy what Rose was saying about why she left in such a hurry.”

“Neither do I,” Bernie said. “But that’s not what I was going to say . . .”

“Which is?”

“That we should take a look at Sheila’s pool house and barn. If we’d been thinking, we would have done that before we spoke to Sheila. Either of those structures is the perfect place to stash Amber.”

“It is too bad we didn’t think of it before, because now Sheila will be watching for us.”

“Mistakes are opportunities in disguise,” Bernie chirped.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” Libby told her.

“I’m just practicing my positive visualizations,” Bernie said.

“Well, practice them somewhere else,” Libby informed her.

“The fact that the road to the pool house and the barn go right by Sheila’s house will make things a tad more challenging,” Bernie observed. “But not impossible.”

Libby glanced at Sheila’s house. Sheila and Rose were at the window, watching to make sure they left. “How long do you think they’re going to stand there?” she asked her sister.

“Quite a long time.”

“So how are we going to do this?” Libby asked.

“I figure we’ll take the turnoff about a quarter of a mile down and drive along the stone wall. Then we’ll park Mathilda and climb over the wall. The pool house can’t be more than a quarter of a mile away.”

“And if someone sees us?” Libby asked.

“They won’t,” Bernie assured her. “No one drives on that road. It’s not even a road.”

“Exactly,” Libby said. “It’s a dirt path. And it’s dark.”

“Not that dark,” Bernie pointed out. “The moon is out. I used to drive it at night all the time with Benny when I was in high school.”

“Yeah, and Dad had to come and pull you out of a ditch,” Libby reminded her, remembering the look on her dad’s face when he’d gone storming out of the house. She’d been really glad she wasn’t the one he’d been going after.

“That’s because we were drunk. But we’re not drunk now.”

“Obviously,” Libby answered, although at this point in the evening she wouldn’t have minded a shot of brandy, even though some hot chocolate would be better. Her feet were cold, and the prospect of being out and about did not thrill her. “But you do know that Sheila meant it when she said that if she saw us she’d have us arrested.”

“She won’t see us,” Bernie said.

“She’ll be able to see the headlights.”

“I’m planning on driving with the parking lights on.”

“Even better,” Libby murmured, visions of broken axles dancing in her head.

“All we’re going to do is peek in,” Bernie told her sister. “Either we see Amber or we don’t. If we see her, we call the police, and if we don’t see her we go home. It’s a win-win situation all the way around.”

“It always seems so simple when you say it,” Libby remarked bitterly.

Bernie took her right hand off the steering wheel and patted her sister’s knee. “That’s because it is.”

Libby sat back in her seat and watched the houses twinkling in the darkness. As they went by, she reflected that ordinarily, given the circumstances, she would have had a long, fruitless conversation with her sister about the foolishness of what they were doing. But not now. Now they needed to do everything they could to find Amber.

They drove a quarter of a mile down the road, and then Bernie made a hard left onto a small, unmarked dirt road that ran parallel to a stone wall. The wall went on for seven miles and had been constructed before Sheila’s house had been built and the surrounding properties were farms.

At one time, the wall had served as a demarcation line between the fields, but now it was crumbling away. The van swayed and bounced on the rutted road as Bernie picked her way between the potholes, while Libby gripped her seat with both hands to keep her head from hitting the roof. By the time the sisters got to where they were going, Bernie was down to five miles an hour.

“All I can say is that I hope Mathilda forgives us,” Libby said when Bernie finally brought the van to a stop.

“She will,” Bernie said as she got out of the van. “My kidneys, on the other hand, I’m not so sure about.”

Libby could see both the barn and the pool house from where they were standing, and even though the structures were in Sheila’s kitchen’s line of sight, Libby figured that if she and Bernie went around the back way, Sheila wouldn’t be able to see them. If she was looking. Which she probably wasn’t. She and Rose had most likely moved into the living room by this time.

“The barn first,” Bernie said as she climbed over the wall.

Libby didn’t answer because she was trying to get her foot out of the crevice she’d gotten her shoe caught in. How she had managed this she wasn’t sure, but she was well and truly stuck.

“Let me help you,” Bernie said, trying and not succeeding in smothering a laugh.

“I can do it myself,” Libby said, each word coming out through gritted teeth. “It’s not funny.”

“I’m sorry. You’re right. It’s not. But you look like a beached starfish,” Bernie told her, going off into another gale of laughter.

Libby didn’t answer. She was too busy trying to free her foot. Finally, she yielded to the inevitable, untied her laces, and slipped her foot out of her shoe. After that her shoe came out with relative ease.

She rubbed her ankle, then balanced on one foot while she slid her shoe back on. She could feel the bruise. It was swelling up already. By the time she got home she’d probably have a black-and-blue mark. Not to mention the fact that on top of everything else her sock was wet and her foot was cold from touching the snow.

“Come on, Libby, let’s go,” Bernie said impatiently. Really, she thought. How long does it take to get a shoe back on? They weren’t getting any warmer standing here.

“I could have broken my ankle,” Libby told her.

“But you didn’t,” Bernie pointed out.

“Or my nose,” Libby said.

“You’re fine,” Bernie said. “Can you stop whining and start moving? Sheila can see us from here.”

“She’s probably watching TV by now, and a little compassion would not be amiss here,” Libby told her sister while she slipped her shoe on.

“I did say
please
,” Bernie told her.

Libby glared at her. “No, you didn’t.”

“Fine. You’re right, I didn’t. I’m saying it now. Does that make you happy?”

“Not really,” Libby told her. “And for your information, I’m moving as fast as I can.” Libby looked at her sister, who was wearing a tight black skirt and boots with four-inch heels. She looked perfect. Bernie hadn’t even broken a fingernail, while she, Libby, was wearing sweatpants, hiking boots, and a heavy parka and probably looked as if she’d just gone three rounds with a Sumo wrestler. No matter what she did, Libby reflected, she always ended up with a spot on her clothes or a button missing.

“How come nothing like this ever happens to you?” Libby asked Bernie. “How come you never break a heel or fall or anything?”

Bernie gave a sister a smug smile. “Because I’m not a klutz.”

“That is so unfair.”

“Life is unfair, Libby. Just be glad I didn’t take a picture of you.”

“You wouldn’t,” Libby exclaimed.

“I can’t,” Bernie said. “It’s too dark.”

Thank God for small favors, Libby thought as she and her sister headed toward the barn. The ground was uneven, as the field was frozen over with small hillocks and clumps of grass. As Libby walked, she thought about running from the cops out here and decided it would not be a pretty sight. Get arrested or break a leg? Neither alternative was pleasant to contemplate.

“Can’t you pick up the pace a little?” Bernie asked Libby. Somehow she’d managed to get a good couple of yards in front of her.

“I’m going as fast as I can,” Libby replied as she leaned down to rub her throbbing ankle.

A moment later Bernie was at the barn, and a moment after that Libby was too.

“The door is open,” Libby observed.

“Actually, there is no door,” Bernie said.

“I wonder what happened to it.”

Bernie pointed to the left. “It must have rotted off and someone dragged it over there.”

“Somehow I don’t think anyone is being held here,” Libby said, indicating the barn with a nod of her head.

“I don’t think so either, but I think we should take a look around anyway,” Bernie said as she took a step inside. What she didn’t say to Libby was that the barn would be a good place to park a body.

But fortunately that wasn’t the case. Bernie sighed in relief. The structure was empty, although the animal stalls were still intact, as was the hayloft. The smell of cows lingered in the air, even after all these years. A few tiles had come off the roof, and Bernie and Libby could see the night sky through them.

Bernie looked down at the floor. She could see grease spots. “I guess Sheila must have stored a car here at some point.”

“Or a tractor,” Libby commented as she gave the interior of the barn a more careful look.

Everything was open. There was no place anyone could hide, but just to make sure, Libby walked in and out of all the stalls. There was nothing in them except a few pieces of paper and little piles of straw and leaves and debris. She imagined that the piles were great places for mice to raise their young.

“Come on, let’s go,” she said to Bernie after she’d made her circuit.

Bernie nodded. She had been thinking about climbing up to the hayloft and walking around it, but the ladder looked rickety, and she could see holes on the walkway where some of the boards had rotted out. Probably better not to chance it, she decided, especially since she could see from where she was standing that there was nothing there.

“Onward and upward,” Bernie said to Libby as she walked out the barn door.

It was a short walk to the pool house, but it was still snowing, only the snow was coming down in sheets now, making it difficult to see. By the time the sisters got to the pool house, their jackets were covered with a thin layer of the white stuff.

“At least it’s good camouflage,” Bernie said as she blinked some flakes out of her eyes.

Libby just grunted and pointed to the security sign in front of the pool house that was half covered by snow. She was too tired and too cold and wet to talk.

“I saw it,” Bernie said as she tried the handle of the pool house door. “It’s probably just an old sign. Sheila’s house isn’t alarmed, so I don’t see why this place should be.”

With that, Bernie walked around the house and tried the three windows. They were locked as well, which she had expected. She cupped her hands in front of her eyes and tried to see through the glass, but the blinds were closed on the other side of the windows, obscuring her view. She took a step back and studied the building.

From where she was standing, she could see the roof. It was flat and had two skylights on it. Those, she was pretty sure, weren’t alarmed. They usually weren’t, and this was not what you would call a high-crime area. All she had to do was get up there. A few feet away she saw a metal table. If she put the table next to the wall of the pool house, Bernie was pretty certain she could climb up there and open one of the skylights.

“Help me,” she told Libby as she explained what she was thinking of doing. “I’m not tall enough,” she announced after she tried and failed.

“Maybe you should have worn six-inch heels,” Libby observed.

“Maybe I should have,” Bernie agreed as she gave Libby a speculative look.

“Forget it,” Libby said.

“I didn’t say anything,” Bernie protested.

“You didn’t have to,” Libby retorted.

“But you’re four inches taller than I am,” Bernie pointed out.

“It’s not happening,” Libby told her. “Aside from everything else, my ankle is still killing me.”

“Fine,” Bernie said. “But I just have one word for you.”

“What’s that?”

“Amber.”

“I hate when you do this,” Libby cried.

“Do what?”

“Guilt me into things.”

“I’m right and you know it. It’s easy,” Bernie continued on when her sister didn’t say anything. “You saw me. I’ll hold the table for you, and all you have to do is climb up on it, grab onto the roof, and pull yourself up. It’s only one story. Then when you get to the top, just open the skylight and go down in and let me in. Anyway, as you pointed out before, you’re dressed for this and I’m not.”

Libby groaned. The phrase “hoisted on her own petard” occurred to her. Although she didn’t know what a petard was, she had an idea it was applicable to her situation.

“What if someone’s in there?” Libby asked, effectively changing the conversation.

“You mean other than Amber?” Bernie said. “Don’t be silly, if there was anyone in there they would have come out already, given all the noise we’re making.”

Libby sighed. “I just hope Amber appreciates what we’re doing for her,” she told Bernie as she climbed up on top of the metal picnic table.

“I’m sure she will when we find her,” Bernie answered.

This was something Libby couldn’t argue with, so she focused on keeping her balance. Once Libby was on top of the table, she grabbed onto the rim of the roof and tried to hoist herself up. She got halfway before her arms gave up and she came back down.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” she told Bernie. “I don’t think I’m strong enough.”

“Try again,” Bernie urged.

Libby did, but the results were the same. “I need another couple of inches.”

Bernie thought for a moment. She told Libby to wait for a moment as she ran off and got a chair she’d spotted earlier.