A Catered Christmas Cookie Exchange (A Mystery With Recipes) (16 page)

“I meant,” Bernie quickly replied, “it’s amazing what a small world it is.”

“And Rose is an attractive lady,” Sheila said, ignoring Bernie’s last comment.

“Yes, she is,” Bernie agreed. And she was. She couldn’t argue with that. “So how did Amber find out?”

“She told Rose she saw her and Dan parked over by Thorden Groves.”

Which, Libby thought, was right near where Amber lived.

“I told Rose not to do that,” Sheila went on. “I told her that place was too close, but what do I know? Nothing, apparently.”

“So what did Pearl want?” Libby asked, changing the subject. “Why did she go out there in such a hurry?”

“Well, Pearl called her and told her it was an emergency and she had to come over immediately, so she hopped in her car and ran right over.”

“And?” Libby asked.

“When she got to Pearl’s house, Pearl had already left.”

“How did she know?” Bernie said.

“Because Pearl’s car wasn’t there and she didn’t answer the door.”

“So then what did Rose do?”

“She called me and I told her to come on over.”

“Weren’t you worried, given what’s been going on?” Bernie asked Sheila.

“Honestly? Not really. Pearl tends to get all worked up about things. Frankly, I thought she was just hysterical. She’s called one of us when the bottom of her cookies have burned, for heaven’s sake, and demanded we come running over. It’s ridiculous.” Sheila looked from Bernie to Libby and back again. “Are we done here?” she asked. “Because I need to get some sleep.”

“Yeah, I think we are,” Bernie said as her phone began to ring.

It was her dad. “You have to come home,” he told her. “You have to come home now. I have some people here who need to talk to you, people that you’re going to want to talk to too.”

W
hen Bernie and Libby walked through the door of their apartment fifteen minutes later, they saw Pearl Pepperpot and Lillian Stein sitting on the sofa across from their dad. Pearl was quivering with indignation, Lillian was making soothing noises, and their dad looked as if he’d give anything to be someplace else.

“See, I told you they’d be here,” Sean said to Pearl, who had her hand on her bosom and was taking large, deep breaths. “I told you not to worry.”

For a moment, Libby was mesmerized by the sight of the five large, felt roses pinned on Pearl’s dress, bobbing up and down as if they were riding the ocean waves. Then she got hold of herself.

“What’s the matter?” she asked. “What’s going on?”

“What’s the matter?” Pearl shrieked. “What’s the matter? I’ve been kidnapped by your counter girl. That’s what the matter is.”

“You mean Amber?” Libby asked.

“Who else am I talking about? How many other crazy people do you have working for you?” Pearl moved her hand up to her face and fanned herself. “Just hearing her name gives me palpitations.”

“She kidnapped you?” repeated a dumbfounded Libby.

“Didn’t you hear what I just said?” Pearl shrieked.

“I think the man on the street can hear what you’re saying,” Sean observed, his patience exhausted. Pearl had always been his least-favorite member of the group, and her behavior in the last half hour hadn’t done anything to change his opinion.

Pearl threw him a dirty look and went on. “You know why your counter girl kidnapped me? I’ll tell you why,” she said, without waiting for an answer. “Your counter girl kidnapped me so I wouldn’t win the
Baking for Life
contest. That’s why she did it.” Pearl wagged her finger at Libby and Bernie. “But I foiled her. I escaped.”

Lillian patted Pearl’s arm. “That might be overstating what happened a bit, dear.”

Pearl’s nostrils flared. “You don’t know what happened, Lillian. You weren’t there.”

“I’m just going by what you told me,” Lillian told Pearl, using the same kind of reasonable tone you would use with a five-year-old on the verge of a temper tantrum.

“You don’t know,” Pearl repeated, her voice choked with emotion. Then she began to fan herself again. “I don’t know if I can go on,” she moaned. “This whole episode is . . . it’s that producer lady’s fault. All of it. If she hadn’t told Amber she could be on the show, none of this would have happened.” Pearl’s voice trailed off and she looked down at the floor. “Is it hot in here, or is it just me?” Pearl asked plaintively.

Bernie and Libby exchanged glances. Both were still trying to come to grips with what Pearl had told them.

Pearl cleared her throat. “It’s awfully dry in here.”

“Can I get you something to drink? A glass of water, or some tea perhaps?” Bernie asked, taking the hint.

She jumped up. Libby joined her.

“Tea would be nice,” Pearl allowed.

“With a drop of bourbon in it?” Lillian suggested to Pearl. “It’s perfect on a night like this.”

“It sure is,” Sean chimed in.

“Well,” Pearl said, lifting her head, “I
could
use a drop to steady myself.”

Lillian smiled and patted Pearl’s knee. “You’ve had a real shock.”

Pearl sat up straighter. “Something to nibble on would be helpful as well. I have low blood sugar,” she confided to Libby and Bernie. “It’s a terrible curse.”

“I’m certain it must be,” Bernie said, heading for the stairs. “I’m sure I can rustle up some cookies for you.”

“I don’t want you to go to any trouble for me,” Pearl piously intoned.

“Don’t be silly,” Bernie said. “You’re no trouble at all.”

Sean nearly choked when he heard what Bernie had said.

“I’ll take some chamomile tea, if possible,” Lillian said.

“Why do you insist on drinking that stuff?” Pearl asked her. “It has no taste.”

“It does to me,” Lillian said firmly. “I find a tisane pleasant at this time of night.”

“Well, to me, it’s like drinking weeds,” Pearl grumped.

Lillian just smiled a saintly smile.

“Now that was interesting,” Libby said as soon as they were in the kitchen and out of earshot of Pearl and Lillian. “First Amber is the kidnappee and now she’s the kidnapper? Talk about a dizzying turn of events. I don’t get it.”

“Neither do I,” Bernie replied. “But at least we know she’s alive. If Pearl is telling the truth.”

“There is that,” Libby agreed. She started rubbing her eyes, then realized what she was doing and made herself stop. “You think Pearl isn’t?”

Bernie refastened her ponytail while she thought over Libby’s question. “No,” she finally said. “I think she is telling the truth. She really doesn’t have any reason to lie. At least none that I can see.”

“That’s my thought too,” said Libby. “Which is good news. Even if Amber has gone over to the dark side.”

“We don’t know that,” Bernie remonstrated, as she put the water for the tea on to boil and took out two teapots, the larger one for the oolong and the smaller one for the chamomile. “Let’s not assume anything. We assumed Amber was kidnapped when she wasn’t. Now we’re assuming Amber’s kidnapped someone? On Pearl’s word? I think we need more than that to go on.”

Libby paused loading a tray up with teacups, plates, cream, sugar, and lemon, as well as a large plate of brownies, chocolate-chip bars, and sugar cookies. “The whole thing makes no sense to me,” she declared as she went over to the side cabinet where they kept the liquor, took out a bottle of bourbon, and set it on the tray.

“I guess we’ll find out what the story is presently,” Bernie said as the water came to a boil.

“I guess we will,” Libby said, while she watched her sister fill the two teapots and place them on the tray. “Or try to find out,” she amended, thinking of Pearl’s penchant for the dramatic.

“We’ll just have to separate the wheat from the chaff or is it the chaff from the wheat? I can never remember which it’s supposed to be. I wonder what chaff is, anyway,” Bernie mused as she and Libby headed back up the stairs, Libby walking slowly and carefully balancing the tray with both hands. “I’m sure, though, that part of what Pearl is going to tell us is true.”

“Yeah, but which part?” Libby said.

“That is the question, isn’t it?” Bernie replied.

“It was horrible,” Pearl was saying as Libby and Bernie came through the door to their apartment. “Just horrible.”

Sean nodded in Pearl’s direction with his chin. “Ms. Pepperpot was just telling me about her unspeakable, hair-raising adventures with Amber,” he said to his daughters. Libby noticed that the corners of his mouth were twitching as he spoke. “I must admit the story was quite riveting.”

“Perhaps she’d like to tell us as well,” Libby said to her dad as she set the tray down on the coffee table in front of the sofa. Then she sat in the armchair to the left of the sofa and offered the plate of cookies to Pearl, who took a chocolate-chip cookie and a brownie and began to eat.

“A little bourbon in your tea?” Libby asked Pearl as Bernie sat down in the other chair.

“That would be lovely, dear,” Pearl said, brushing cookie crumbs off her bosom. “A little more, if you don’t mind,” she told Libby when Libby had stopped pouring. “My heart is still pounding,” she explained to Sean after she’d finished both cookies and was reaching for a third.

“Nothing like a drop of the hard stuff to help you relax, Pearl,” Sean observed. “No tea for me,” he said to Libby when she asked him if he wanted two lumps of sugar or one in his. “Just pour me out a shot of the good stuff.”

Libby raised an eyebrow. “Really?” she asked because her dad didn’t usually drink.

“Really,” he replied. “In fact, make that a double. It’s been a long night.”

“I guess so,” Libby said. Obviously the hour he’d spent listening to Pearl had inflicted some damage. “You always were a sensitive soul.”

Sean bared his teeth in a grin. “So your mother used to tell me.”

“I’ll just have my chamomile without anything in it,” piped up Lillian. “I find sweeteners dull the delicate taste of the flower.”

“It’s a weed,” Pearl repeated. “Every time I see it in my garden I yank it out.”

For a second, Lillian looked as if she wanted to strangle Pearl. Then that look was gone and she was her beneficent self again. “It’s a flower,” she repeated. “People have cultivated chamomile for hundreds of years for its calming properties. Perhaps you’d like a cutting or two, Pearl?”

Pearl snorted at the pointed jibe and took a bite of her sugar cookie, while Lillian smoothed down the front of the flannel shirt she was wearing and flicked a piece of lint off her jeans.

“Unfortunately,” she said, continuing the conversation, “I find I don’t sleep well if I’ve had any alcohol or really any kind of stimulant close to bedtime.”

“Me either,” Bernie lied. Actually, she slept fine after a couple of shots. Really fine. Which is why she wasn’t having any bourbon. She was afraid that if she did she’d be passed out in her chair in five minutes or less. Probably less, given how tired she was. “So tell us, what happened with you and Amber?” she asked Pearl after everyone was finally settled down.

Pearl shuddered and put her hand to her breast. “It was horrible. I’m not sure I can talk about it.”

“There, there,” Lillian said in a tone that Bernie could only describe as patronizing, after which she reached over, took the bottle of bourbon and poured another shot of the stuff into Pearl’s teacup.

“I’m just not sure I’m ever going to feel safe living in my home again,” Pearl confided as she took a long drink of what Libby figured was now straight liquor.

“Amber broke into your house?” Libby asked.

Pearl waved her hands in the air. “Not exactly.” “Meaning what?” Bernie asked.

Pearl held out her teacup, and Lillian poured in another shot. At the rate she’s going, Bernie thought, we’re going to have to carry Pearl down the stairs. Not a good thought, since Pearl must have weighed close to two hundred pounds.

“Meaning,” Pearl said after she’d had another sip of liquor, “she was on my doorstep.”

“She rang the bell and Pearl let her in,” Lillian explained.

“But Amber called first, didn’t she, Pearl?” Bernie said, thinking back to what Sheila had said Rose had told her.

Pearl hemmed and hawed.

“Didn’t she?” Libby repeated.

“Yes, she made contact,” Pearl admitted.

“So her showing up on your doorstep wasn’t a complete surprise,” Bernie said.

Pearl brought her teacup and saucer up to her mouth, raised the cup, and took a sip of bourbon. “No. Not a complete surprise,” she allowed.

Bernie noted that Pearl was talking more slowly now and enunciating each word. Must be the bourbon, Bernie thought, thinking that if she had imbibed that amount she’d be flat on her face by now.

“What did Amber want?” Sean asked, jumping into the fray. “Why did she call you?”

Pearl placed her teacup on its saucer, put both items on the coffee table, clasped her hands together, and rested them on her waist. “Not that it’s any of your business,” she said primly, “but she wanted to talk to me about Millie’s missing recipes. I told her I didn’t know anything about them, but she said she was coming over anyway. That she wanted to talk to me face-to-face. I told her not to. I repeated I didn’t know anything about them, but she hung up before I could finish the sentence.”

Sean took a sip of his bourbon, then put the teacup down. It burned his tongue and left a nice warm feeling going down his throat. He felt his irritation with Pearl for making him miss his favorite TV program melting away. “That was when you called Rose, right?” he asked Pearl.

“I wanted her there to protect me,” Pearl said indignantly. “Was that so wrong?”

“Not at all,” Lillian murmured. “Absolutely not. I’m glad you did.”

As Sean sat in his chair, sipping his bourbon, nibbling on one of Libby’s chocolate-chip cookies, and watching the proceedings, he wondered why Lillian was so protective of Pearl, especially in light of the way Pearl was treating her. Watching Lillian lean forward in her chair and rest her forearms on her thighs, he made a mental note to himself to find out.

“What did Amber say that made you think you needed protection?” Libby asked Pearl.

“She said”—and Pearl’s breasts heaved in indignation at the memory—“that I was a fat old bat and that I couldn’t bake and that I wasn’t going to make money off all her aunt’s hard work. That none of us were.”

Sean snorted in his effort not to laugh, and Bernie hid a smile behind her hand.

“None meaning the members of the Christmas Cookie Exchange Club?” Bernie asked.

Pearl nodded.

“So,” Bernie went on, “if she insulted you like that, why’d you let her in when she came to your door? I don’t think I would have.”