A Catered Christmas Cookie Exchange (A Mystery With Recipes) (6 page)

Marvin cleaned off the leaves and dirt as best he could, but there was still a layer of grime attached to the thing, so he held it as far away as possible from himself so that he wouldn’t get his suit dirty. He followed Sean through the forest until they were back out on the road. Sean looked around until he found the rock that matched the description Bernie had given him and walked over to it. The rope was gone. Marvin came up beside him a moment later.

“Does this mean what I think it means?” Marvin asked as he stared at the place where the rope had been.

“Yes,” Sean leaned on his cane. The walk through the woods had tired him out. “It means that someone caused Millie to crash into the tree.”

“Are you going to call the police?” Marvin asked.

Sean shook his head. “No. There’s no point. This whole thing is circumstantial. We’d need more evidence than this to get the police involved.”

“Then what are you going to do?” Marvin asked.

“That’s easy. I’m going to call Bernie and Libby and let them know what’s what, and then I’m going to go home and do some thinking.”

L
ibby looked at the three charter members of the Christmas Cookie Exchange Club standing in the shop and sighed. She should be in the kitchen working on the tortes instead of out here calming the ruffled waters. She shook her head. The expression was “smoothing ruffled feathers.” The day must have taken more out of her than she thought it had.

She’d bet herself that Barbara Lazarus, Lillian Stein, and Teresa Ruffino would be the first to show up to talk to her about Millie, or Millie’s tragic accident, as Teresa had taken to calling it—emphasis on
tragic
—and she’d been right. She just hadn’t expected the three ladies to show up quite this soon.

As she watched them, she was struck once again by how different the women of the Christmas Cookie Exchange Club were from each other, a fact they were proud of. In fact, Pearl Pepperpot was constantly saying that the UN could take a lesson from how well the group got along. Libby wasn’t so sure that applied to the three that were here now, however, or really to any of them. The words that came to her mind when she thought of the Christmas Cookie Exchange Club were
backbiting
and
gossipy
, but maybe she was wrong. Maybe Pearl Pepperpot was right. After all, none of the women looked or dressed the same, Libby reflected.

For example, Barbara Lazarus sported dyed black hair, rhinestone cat’s-eye glasses that were so old they were about to become fashionable again, and bright red lipstick. She was given to tight skirts, high heels, and low-cut tops, while Lillian Stein, the flower child of the group, had long, gray hair that she wore in a braid down her back and favored jeans, flannel shirts, and anything that looked as if it had come from the sixties. Teresa Ruffino, on the other hand, always wore her hair pinned back in a bun, sensible shoes, and a black straight skirt and a black sweater or blouse, giving the impression she was auditioning for a part as a Sicilian widow.

The three women and Libby were standing off to the side of the shop, right by the kitchen door, effectively blocking traffic, while Bernie and Googie were waiting on customers and George was making coffee. Libby wished she was back in the kitchen doing what she had to do, but somehow or other she’d gotten stuck talking to the Christmas Cookie Exchange Club. Or the part of it that was here. She was positive she’d be seeing the rest of the group within the next hour, if not sooner, and she was determined that when they came in, Bernie was going to be the one to talk to them. Fair was fair.

The women had been here chattering on for the last fifteen minutes, and by now Libby wished they’d go away. They’d come in when Libby had been starting the ganache for the tortes, which she had put aside because she thought speaking to them was the right thing to do. Now, as the minutes ticked by, she was regretting that decision.

One thing was for sure, the news of Millie’s death had spread quickly. It seemed to Libby that within a matter of minutes after coming home from the hospital, all the women that belonged to the Christmas Cookie Exchange Club had called her and Bernie to find out, after expressing the appropriate shock at Millie’s death, what was going on with the night’s taping. Bernie had described it as watching the sharks circling, and she’d been right.

As if that wasn’t enough, Barbara, Lillian, and Teresa had come into the store to ask the same questions they’d asked on the phone in person. Questions Libby couldn’t supply an answer to. This was because she hadn’t been able to get hold of the producer yet, although Libby had a pretty strong hunch that tonight’s taping was going to be postponed until tomorrow. At the very least. Maybe even longer.

There was also another issue that had to be resolved. Amber was still talking about taking Millie’s place on the show and submitting her aunt’s recipes for the judging. Libby had already told Amber that there might be a conflict of interest involved with that, considering that Amber worked for them and she and Bernie were doing the judging, but Amber hadn’t wanted to hear about that. She’d just started to sob, at which point Libby had told Amber it was fine with her if it was fine with the producer. It was days like these, Libby thought, that made her want to go into the kitchen, lock the door, and bake.

“Don’t you agree, Libby?”

Libby jumped. She’d drifted off. “With what, Barbara?” she asked.

“That it’s awful,” Barbara Lazarus said.

“What’s awful?” Libby asked.

“Millie’s death, of course,” Barbara said in an accusatory tone of voice. “Haven’t you been listening to me?”

“Of course I have,” Libby lied, wondering as she did how many times Barbara had repeated that sentiment in the time she’d been here. It had to be at least ten, maybe even more.

“Poor Millie,” Barbara said once again. She put her hand over her stomach and patted it. “This whole thing has gotten me quite upset. I don’t think I could eat one of your brownies now. Too heavy. Although I think I could digest a sugar cookie. Sugar is good for the system.”

“Do you want one?” Libby asked her.

“No.” Barbara waved her hand in the air. “It’s very kind of you to offer, though.”

“Fine,” Libby said, smiling sweetly as she watched Barbara frown.

“You know you want one,” Lillian told her. “Take it.”

“You’re not helping,” Barbara replied.

“You don’t need me to sabotage your diet,” Lillian told her. “You do that all by yourself.”

Teresa cleared her throat. Barbara and Lillian turned and looked at her.

“Ladies,” Teresa said, “let’s not bicker at a time like this.”

“We’re not bickering,” Lillian snapped at Teresa.

“No, we’re not,” Barbara said to Teresa, before addressing Lillian. “You’re just being extremely unsupportive,” she said to her. “And at a time like this too. I must admit I expected better.”

Lillian scowled. “I’m not being unsupportive. I’m just telling the truth. Which you don’t want to hear.”

Barbara opened her mouth to reply, but Teresa got there first.

“Do you mind?” she said to Barbara and Lillian. “Can we stick to the topic at hand and not go off on a tangent for once?”

“Works for me,” Libby said quickly.

“Good. Now, as I was saying, after Millie’s last accident,” Teresa continued, “we told her that she shouldn’t be driving. We all told her.”

Lillian nodded. “That’s right. We did,” she said.

“But,” Teresa continued, “she’d never listen to anyone. She always knew best.”

“Wait a minute. Back up. What accident?” Libby asked. This was the first she’d heard of it.

Teresa righted her cardigan and rebuttoned its top button. “It happened last year, right after our meeting at Rose’s house. She went over Rose’s driveway and right into Alma’s car. Took the bumper clean off.” Teresa frowned at the memory. “Needless to say, Alma was not pleased. Especially because she lost three whole trays of black pepper chocolate cookies. They turned into a mass of crumbs.

“Alma was so mad, but Millie just laughed.” Teresa tsked and shook her head at the memory. “I bet Millie wouldn’t have been laughing if it had been her cashew-nut bars that had gotten ruined. But all she said was that Alma was making a big deal over nothing and that she could do something else for her holiday presents. Then she said that maybe the accident had been a blessing in disguise for the recipients of Alma’s presents.”

“She actually said that?” Libby asked.

“She certainly did,” Lillian said. “I was there. I heard it. We all did.”

“Wow,” Libby commented. “Talk about rubbing salt into the wound.”

“Yup,” Lillian agreed. “Millie could be really mean that way,” she added as she leaned against the wall. “She said she was big on truth, but not when it came to herself. That was a whole different matter.” She shook her head, remembering. “Jeepers, Alma was so mad that day. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so upset—unless you count the time that Millie told her that she’d used a cheap brand of vanilla in her cookies. That time Alma’s face actually turned red.” She leaned in toward Libby. “I never saw that before. I thought that only happened in books,” she confided.

“Rose wasn’t too happy either, especially when she saw that Millie had knocked out two of her lilac bushes,” Barbara added. She resettled her glasses on the bridge of her nose. “It was terrible. Those lilac bushes had been in Rose’s family for years. She’d grown them from cuttings taken from her mother’s yard, but all Millie said was that she’d buy her some new bushes at Home Depot and that she was making a big deal about nothing. That just wasn’t right.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Teresa said.

“When did the accident happen?” Libby asked.

“Last year,” Teresa replied. “But that wasn’t the end of it.”

“You mean she had other accidents?” asked Libby.

Teresa snickered. “Oh yes. There was the time she went through her garage.”

Libby brushed a speck of sugar off her flannel shirt. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope,” Teresa replied. “She pressed on the gas when she meant to press on the brake and drove her car through the rear wall of her garage.” She let out another giggle. “I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t laugh, but I just can’t help it. Especially after she told me
I
shouldn’t be driving anymore.”

“Don’t forget the time she hit Sheila’s BMW,” Barbara added. “Oh my heavens.” Barbara cupped her hand on her cheek. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Sheila speechless before. She was so upset she couldn’t get the words out of her mouth. She just gasped. I actually thought she was having a heart attack.”

“So why was Millie still driving?” Libby asked. “She sounds like a complete menace on the road.”

“She was driving because she could,” Lillian replied promptly. “Although in fairness I should add that she isn’t, wasn’t, that bad when she wasn’t flustered.”

“Unfortunately,” Teresa added, “Millie flustered easily. Everything threw her. She had what my mother, may she rest in peace, used to call a nervous disposition.”

“Did you try to talk to Millie?” Libby asked.

“Of course we did,” Barbara answered. “She didn’t want to hear it.”

“Okay,” Libby said. “Then didn’t anyone try to talk to someone else about the situation?”

“Alma told Millie’s son and daughter,” Barbara volunteered.

“What happened?” Libby asked.

“Nothing. They told Millie what Alma had said, and Millie was so mad at Alma that she said she’d get her back, and she did, too. She started a rumor that Alma bought her quilts in Brooklyn instead of making them herself.”

“That’s it?” Libby asked. “That’s not so terrible,” she observed.

“It was for Alma,” Lillian told Libby. “Her reputation was besmirched and she was banned from the quilting club. It was very traumatic.”

“After that,” Teresa confided, “we just backed off. Millie wasn’t nice when she was mad, not nice at all. No one wanted to cross her.”

“I’ll say,” Lillian agreed. “She was a regular . . .” She waved her hand in the air. “Let’s just say the
b
word would be extremely appropriate.”

“So then why did you guys hang out with her if she was like that?” Libby asked the three women.

They looked at each other. Barbara cleared her throat.

“She could be very nice. In fact, she was nice most of the time. We’re kind of like a marriage—this group is. You know, you may not like what the other person does sometimes, but you’ve been together for so long that you shrug your shoulders and let it go.”

“Besides,” Teresa added. “She wasn’t always like this. Back in the day she used to be much nicer.”

“Not to me,” Barbara told her.

Lillian leaned back up against the wall. “We shouldn’t be talking like this about her. We should show a little respect.”

“We’re not being disrespectful,” Barbara said. “We’re just telling the truth.”

Lillian straightened up. “Truth is a relative matter,” she said.

“Are you saying I’m lying?” Barbara demanded.

“Not at all,” Lillian said to her. “I’m just saying that people see things differently, that’s all. I suggest we get off this topic and try to stay positive.”

“Well, she was a good baker,” Teresa added.

“Although,” Barbara responded, “despite what Millie said, she certainly wasn’t the best baker in Westchester County.”

Lillian turned toward her. “Barbara, she didn’t mean that when she said it. She was kidding.”

“No, Lillian, she wasn’t kidding and she did mean it,” Barbara answered. “But that, as they like to say, is neither here nor there right now.”

“What does that expression mean anyway?” Teresa asked.

Lillian glared at her. “It means it doesn’t matter. Now that I finally have the floor, what I want to know is what’s going to happen to Millie’s cookies?” she asked. “Are they still going to be in the contest?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Lillian,” Teresa snapped. “How can they be in the contest when Millie isn’t going to be?”

“Actually,” Libby said, “Amber wants to take her place.”

“That’s absurd,” Barbara cried. “I never heard of anything so inane.”

“I’m waiting to talk to the producer about it,” Libby told her. “However, I think you should know that this was Millie’s dying wish.”

“That’s all very nice, but Amber didn’t bake those cookies,” Teresa protested. “Millie made them. She can’t win with someone else’s recipe. That’s simply not fair.”

“She could accept the award on Millie’s behalf,” Libby pointed out.

Lillian snorted. “I’m sorry, but I just don’t agree with this. At all.”

“In truth,” Libby told her, “it might not be an issue because the cookies seem to have disappeared.”

Lillian and Barbara gasped and put their hands over their hearts while Teresa leaned forward and scrunched up her face.

“Disappeared?” Barbara squeaked.

Libby nodded. For ten seconds no one said anything. Lillian and Barbara stared while Teresa blinked. Libby decided she reminded her of a female Mr. Magoo dressed in black.