When the Cookie Crumbles (12 page)

“The bottle? I’m afraid I don’t understand,” Olivia said.

Hermione reached over and patted Olivia’s knee. “I’m sorry, I’m not being clear, am I? I meant the whiskey bottle. I couldn’t help but notice, you see, when I saw Paine in the bath…I couldn’t help but see that the whiskey bottle was nearly empty. Paine didn’t usually drink so much in such a short period of time. But he felt weak from all the traveling, so I suppose he might have spilled some and not wanted to tell me.” Hermione stared toward the table next to her bed, where Olivia saw a color photo of Paine Chatterley. His solemn, slender face and graying hair made him look perhaps a decade older than he had in the wedding photo Olivia noticed during her previous visit. The tilt of his chin expressed a hint of arrogance.

“I truly did love him, you know,” Hermione said. “I never stopped. No matter what.”

O
livia and Del paused on Chatterley Mansion’s front porch after a female deputy, borrowed from a nearby town, arrived to keep watch over Hermione Chatterley. The press had scattered after Mayor Karen Evanson delivered a terse statement, dictated by Del, and Paine’s body had been removed by the coroner.

“Did Karen believe you? About Paine’s death being accidental, I mean,” Olivia asked.

“I doubt it,” Del said. “Our mayor informed me that if I
suspect suicide or murder, I am to keep it to myself until Monday morning.”

“She really wants to go on with this celebration? What am I saying, of course she does. What did you do with Binnie? Please tell me you gave her the third degree. It would give me such pleasure.”

With a smug grin, Del said, “Even better. I arrested Binnie on suspicion of breaking and entering, although she insists she used the key she was given as a member of the celebration planning committee. I explained that, key or no key, she had entered a private residence illegally. She is currently being held in the Chatterley Heights jail, minus all electronic modes of communication with the outside world. Will that do?”

“Del, you have made me a happy woman.”

“Happy enough to dress as a serving wench this weekend?”

“Don’t push it.”

“Okay, how about lunch? It’s well past lunchtime, and I’m starving.”

Olivia’s stomach had been rumbling for a couple of hours, but she did need to get back to The Gingerbread House. “Let me call Maddie. She might need help in the store.” She dug out her cell phone and speed-dialed Maddie.

“Livie, tell me everything, instantly.”

“Are you inundated with customers?” Olivia asked. “I feel guilty I haven’t been there to help.”

“Not to worry. I called in Bertha to work, and your mom showed up about five minutes later. She’d heard you were babysitting Hermione at the mansion.”

“How on earth did she…never mind. Mom has her ways, which I will never understand.” Olivia glanced at Del, who was staring back at the mansion. It crossed her
mind that he was looking for how an intruder might have entered the house, if not with a key. “Del asked me to lunch,” Olivia said, “but I know I should get back to the store.”

“No, you don’t,” Maddie said. “We are currently overstaffed and have no need of your services. Go to lunch with Del, and don’t come back until he gives you every morsel of information about Paine Chatterley’s death. I’m betting it was murder. He was not a popular guy.”

“I’ll be back in an hour,” Olivia said.

“Oh, and let’s have a late dinner this evening,” Maddie said. “Aunt Sadie told me an interesting story last night, involving cookie cutters and the Chatterley dynasty. Lucas and his guys are doing inventory until late, and I’ll need a couple hours to make sure the gingerbread houses are ready for unveiling tomorrow morning. So maybe about eight?”

“My place at eight,” Olivia said. “I’ll pick up macaroni and cheese from Pete’s Diner, if you can come up with a salad. See you at the store in an hour. Or so.”

“Don’t hurry,” Maddie said. “We can manage just fine without you.”

“So comforting to know.”

T
he Chatterley Café, located at the northwest corner of the town square, was usually crammed to overflowing during the lunch hour. Del and Olivia arrived shortly after two p.m. and found two tables open. They chose a booth in a back corner, a quiet place to talk.

“My treat,” Del said.

Olivia eyed him over the top of her menu. “Bribery is useless. I will not dress as a serving wench.”

Del shrugged. “You can’t blame a guy for trying. But I
owe you lunch, at least, for giving up your morning to watch over Hermione Chatterley.”

“Watch over and
grill
, you mean. Which makes me crave grilled Maryland crab cakes with a heaping bowl of clam chowder. Oh look, it’s the most expensive meal on the menu.”

Del’s hearty laugh felt like a warm arm around Olivia’s shoulders.

“Olivia Greyson,” Del said, “I do enjoy your company.”

“Me, too.” Olivia’s response came out squeaky. She reminded herself to take little steps. Her divorce was much more recent than Del’s. If ever there was a time to change the subject, this was it. “So if it turns out that Paine was murdered, would you suspect Hermione?”

Del looked startled but recovered quickly. “The spouse is generally pretty high on the suspect list,” he said, handing Olivia the bread basket. “We’ll know better how to proceed after we get the autopsy results. We can get through the celebration weekend assuming Paine’s death was accidental. Which it probably was.”

When the waiter arrived to take their orders, Olivia said, “I’ll have the crabs cakes and clam chowder.”

“Excellent choice,” the waiter said.

Del coughed.

Olivia gave him a sweet smile. “What? Did you think I wasn’t serious?”

Del turned to the waiter and said, “I’ll have bread and water.”

“Very good, sir,” the waiter said, without skipping a beat. “I assume you would like the bread medium rare, as usual? I’ll be right back with your water.”

Olivia watched the young man glide off to another table. “You know that kid, don’t you?”

“His name is Ted,” Del said. “He’s been talking to me about going to the police academy. He’s a quick study. I think he’ll make a good officer.”

“And speaking of police work,” Olivia said, “what’s your own sense about Paine’s death? I know you want to hear what the medical examiner says, but did it really look like an accident to you?”

Ted the waiter arrived with two coffees, a new bread basket, and one large water. With a flourish, he deposited the water and bread in front of Del. Without so much as a twitch at the corners of his mouth, he turned and left. Olivia saw his shoulders shake with laughter as he headed toward the kitchen.

“Have some bread,” Del said.

“Oh no,” Olivia said. “I wouldn’t want you to starve.” She poured a dollop of cream into her coffee. “Now how about answering my question? You want to know what I learned from Hermione, so it’s only fair.”

Del ripped open a warm dinner roll and spread butter on it. “Nothing I saw at the scene suggested murder, if that’s what you’re really asking. There was a nearly empty whiskey bottle within reaching distance of the tub. If Paine drank too much, then yes, it’s possible he passed out and drowned accidentally.”

“Hermione mentioned the whiskey,” Olivia said. “She insisted it was a new bottle. If Paine was drunk, it might have been easy for a woman to push him under the water.”

With a thoughtful nod, Del said, “It’s possible. I didn’t see any signs of a struggle, though that could have been cleaned up. If Paine was sleepy enough, he might not have been able to struggle much. However, this is all sheer speculation.”

“You say that as if it’s a bad thing.”

“I’m more interested in facts,” Del said.

Olivia drained her coffee cup with appreciation. The Chatterley Café was known for its rich, smooth Italian roast. “Okay, then, here’s a factual question: was there any evidence that someone might have sneaked into the mansion during the night and murdered Paine? I’m not yanking this out of the air. As you know, everyone on the celebration committee, including me, has a key to the mansion. We all visited on occasion to inspect the restoration, so we were all familiar with the house. From what I saw at our meeting Tuesday evening, at least two members of the committee were acquainted with Paine, and not in a friendly way.”

Now she had Del’s attention. “Which two members?” he asked in a clipped voice.

“Quill Latimer and Karen Evanson,” Olivia said.

Ted the waiter returned with a full tray. He delivered Olivia’s chowder and crab cakes with steamed broccoli and fresh lemon wedges. “And for you, sir.” Ted placed a small steak with baked potato in front of Del.

When Ted had left, Del grinned at Olivia. “Medium rare, just the way I like it.”

Olivia rolled her eyes. “Okay, fine, you got me.”

“I hope so.”

Caught off guard, Olivia couldn’t think of a retort.

Del’s anxious eyes darted to Olivia’s face. When she smiled at him, he relaxed. “Anyway,” he said, “to answer your question, there is no solid evidence that anyone broke into the house during the night. Paine’s bathroom window was latched from the inside. The bedroom window was tightly closed, although the latch is broken. None of the mansion rooms have locks.”

“How did Hermione behave when you arrived?”

Del put down his knife and fork. “She was agitated. I told her to stay downstairs, but she followed me to Paine’s bathroom. The door stuck, and I didn’t realize Hermione was right behind me while I was forcing the door open. My fault, I should have paid more attention.”

“You mean Hermione followed you into the bathroom?”

Del ran his fingers through his sandy hair, a gesture Olivia had come to recognize as frustration. “More like she pushed her way past me, almost as if she needed more confirmation that her husband was dead. Then she got hysterical. Cody wasn’t there, so I had to calm her down and get her out of the bathroom before I could get a good look at the scene. I should be sent back to the academy.”

“I don’t know, Del. Did her behavior feel staged to you? I ask because I’ve noticed at times I feel like a spectator with Hermione, like she’s putting on a show.”

“Are you saying Hermione might not be who she says she is?”

“I don’t know, maybe I’m being unfair, but…” Olivia absently poured cream into her coffee cup as she struggled to put her perceptions into words.

“Livie, you realize there’s no coffee in that cup, right?” Del signaled Ted the waiter, who added coffee to Olivia’s cream without comment. “Would you care for dessert?” he asked. Del and Olivia declared themselves stuffed.

“I trust your instincts about people,” Del said once Ted was out of earshot. “But I have to add that I’ve seen bereaved people behave in some pretty odd ways, especially when a loved one has died violently or suddenly. Having said that, I’ll keep your observations in mind if Paine’s death turns out to be murder. Not that I’m expecting it to be.”

“I hope it isn’t,” Olivia said. “By the way, how long do you plan to hold on to Binnie? Not that I’m feeling sorry for her or anything.”

Del chuckled. “Nor should you. I’ll probably release her this evening. She did get into the mansion with a key, so the breaking and entering charge is dicey. Besides, Cody should soon be finished downloading her photos and checking for anything suspicious. He probably won’t find anything, but I’m curious about why Binnie was photographing that little room so thoroughly.”

“And why she couldn’t have taken the photos through all those windows,” Olivia said. “I know the back parlor was originally designed to offer a view of a large garden. She didn’t have to go inside. She must have seen something. If Cody finds anything interesting in those photos, any chance I can con you into sharing with me?”

With a smile and a shrug, Del promised nothing.

“Fair enough. Binnie will undoubtedly post everything on her blog, anyway.”

“Not after Cody copies and deletes her shots, she won’t.” Del slid a credit card from his wallet and placed it on top of the bill.

“Remind me never to cross you,” Olivia said. “Thanks for lunch, by the way. Next time it’s on me.”

“Great,” Del said “How about taking me to Bon Vivant after the celebration ends on Sunday evening?”

Bon Vivant was the newest and priciest restaurant in Chatterley Heights. Olivia figured Del was teasing her, although she could afford to take him there. Her dear friend Clarisse Chamberlain had left her a generous inheritance, as well as her entire cookie-cutter collection. Olivia had invested much of the inheritance in her business and her mortgage, but she had put aside a bit for emergencies
and special occasions. The cookie-cutter collection, which she and Clarisse had spent many happy hours poring over, would be far more difficult to part with, ever.

Olivia had a better idea for an evening with Del. “I am but a poor shopkeeper,” she said. “How about dinner at my place instead?”

“Even better. Although…were you planning to cook this dinner yourself?”

Olivia’s decorated cookies were every bit as delicious as Maddie’s, but otherwise her cooking repertoire consisted of frozen pizza and takeout. Maybe the occasional salad. She couldn’t seem to work up the proper enthusiasm for anything except cutout cookies. “You know, one of these days I might surprise you by cooking a perfectly respectable meal that doesn’t involve pepperoni. I think you should give me a chance.”

“Agreed,” Del said. He slid from the booth and offered Olivia a hand. “I’ll bring the wine. Lots of it.”