When the Cookie Crumbles (23 page)

“I don’t see—”

“I know it’s hard to make out,” Maddie said, “but I know what I’m looking for. See that word there, with what looks like the letters ‘fs’? That’s really ‘ss,’ not ‘fs,’ so the word is ‘molasses.’ That’s how folks used to write when they used quill pens. I think it was because quill pens left globs of ink on the paper if you lifted them, so people tried to connect letters to keep the pen on the paper.” She took the book back from Olivia and leafed through it. “There’s no name in this. Or date. I’m guessing it was written by an early Chatterley cook, then brought along when the mansion was built.”

“Would a cook have been able to read and write in those days?” Olivia asked.

Maddie shrugged. “Don’t know. Maybe she was from an educated family in England and came to the colonies alone. Or her husband died, and she had to find a way to survive.” Maddie unzipped her backpack. “I’m taking this with me. It’s my duty as a citizen of Chatterley Heights. Hermione Chatterley hasn’t shown an excess of appreciation for the historical artifacts in this house. I wouldn’t put it past her to sell everything behind our backs or throw stuff away.”

“Presuming anything is left unbroken,” Olivia said.

“Exactly.”

“We’ve been in here for at least twenty minutes,” Olivia said. “Fascinating as all this is, I don’t see any sign of cookie cutters. We need to move on.”

Maddie rolled to her knees. “Time to battle the creepy crawlies in the root cellar.”

“Before we head downstairs,” Olivia said, “I want a look at Hermione’s room.”

“For anything in particular?”

“Not sure.” Olivia crawled back into the larger closet and turned off her flashlight before returning to the hallway. “There’s something unreal about Hermione. She’s way too good at making up stories, like the one about Karen. I want to know if there’s anything else she’s fibbing about.”

Leaving the mansion lights out, Olivia and Maddie hurried up the staircase to Hermione’s bedroom. Once inside the room, they found the shades pulled down. Since the overhead light might show around the edges of the shades, they turned on their flashlights.

“At least this room hasn’t been ransacked,” Olivia said. “I know the police searched it after Paine’s death. They didn’t find anything incriminating, or they would have arrested Hermione.”

“So what’s left for us to find?” Maddie asked. “And how will we know it when we see it?”

“Look for anything personal: photos, newspaper clippings, papers.” Olivia shone her flashlight under Hermione’s bed, looked under her mattress, and examined her pillows. “If it’s important, Hermione would have hidden it carefully. The police were searching for possible weapons or additional drugs that might have been used on Paine. But I want to know about Hermione’s past, her secrets. The police probably ignored personal items unless they might tie her to her husband’s death.”

Maddie tackled Hermione’s walnut dressing table, a well-preserved antique with a marble insert. “Wow, Livie, come look at this.” Maddie had pushed aside used lipsticks and a half-empty jar of inexpensive facial moisturizer to make room for the table’s one drawer. “This drawer is crammed with brand-new, unopened cosmetics,” Maddie said. “I wonder what the cops thought of that.”

“If they were guys, maybe they thought nothing of it. Or the stores Hermione was stealing from decided not to report the thefts,” Olivia said. “I’m not sure I would.”

“What happens in Chatterley Heights stays in Chatterley Heights?”

“At least until the celebration is over.” Olivia had moved on to Hermione’s closet. She picked up a pair of worn leather walking shoes that had new heels. On impulse, she twisted one of the heels. It took some muscle, but finally the heel shifted and slid open. The heel was hollow inside, and empty. Olivia closed the heel, picked up the matching shoe, and tried the same maneuver. It, too, was empty. At least she now knew that Hermione sometimes carried items she wanted to hide.

Olivia searched through the ten or so dresses hanging
in Hermione’s closet. All were variations of the great-grandmother style Hermione favored. At the far end of the closet hung a canvas coat. Olivia pulled it off the hanger for a closer look. The beige coat looked well worn and was stained down the front with what might have been coffee. It didn’t strike Olivia as good enough to bring overseas. She lay it on the bed and examined the pockets, all of which were empty. She spread the coat open. The lining looked new, which struck her as odd. Why reline such a battered old coat. Olivia lifted the lining away from the coat fabric. “Bingo,” she said.

“What?” Maddie left her search and joined Olivia. “Two linings,” Maddie said. “The hidden lining has stitching in it, see? I’ll bet those are hidden pockets. Okay, this is now officially fun.”

Olivia turned the coat inside out, revealing the inside of the hidden lining. There were, indeed, four pockets. Two of them were empty.

Maddie reached inside the remaining two and came out with two British passports. Opening one, she said, “This is Hermione’s photo, but the name is Portia Carswell. So this is why Hermione and Paine Chatterley didn’t show up on the Internet. I would so love to know why they were using assumed names. Ooh, maybe they were international jewel thieves.”

“If they were jewel thieves,” Olivia said, “they must have been incompetent. On the other hand, Hermione did steal from some local businesses, so the thief part is accurate.” Olivia opened the second passport, which contained a photo of Paine and the name Howard Carswell. So they’d swapped first initials. “Hermione and Paine must have been in hiding. Or they were involved in something illegal. Or both.” She returned both passports to their hiding places
and rehung the coat. “Unfortunately for us, we have to tell Del about this.”

“Not right this minute, though,” Maddie pleaded. “We have one more hidden storage area yet to explore. Hermione is in the hospital; she’s not going anywhere. This information can wait awhile, right? Livie? I know Del will be angry, but I’ll tell him I came here alone so he won’t get mad at you.”

“I guess so,” Olivia said. “I’ll take care of telling Del. He’d never believe I came here without you.”

“Can we go to the root cellar now?” Maddie asked. “I can’t wait to see what’s behind that door Lucas found. If there’s any place left unexplored in the mansion, it would be the root cellar.”

“Just a sec.” To be thorough, Olivia looked through the remaining items in Hermione’s closet. When she came across a second coat, made of fine wool, she removed it from its hanger. “Might as well check out this one, too.” Olivia felt inside the pockets. “Aha. This is my lucky night.” She extracted a battered envelope, taped shut. Inside she found a collection of photographs in various shapes and sizes. Pausing at a small, square, black-and-white photo of an infant, Olivia said, “Hey, Maddie, take a look at this. Does that look like a newborn to you?”

Maddie settled cross-legged on the floor and shone her flashlight over the photo. “It reminds me of those photos some hospitals take right after a newborn baby is cleaned up. Several of my cousins have sent me pictures like this one. Personally, I wouldn’t want one in my portfolio.” She turned the print over. “No identification, not even a date. That’s weird. My cousins always list names, dates, weight, length, actual minute of birth, duration of labor.…”

Olivia joined Maddie on the floor. “When the Chatterleys
first showed up at our store on Tuesday evening, I remember Paine saying he and Hermione had never been blessed with children. I wonder if they lost a child. This baby’s eyes are closed. That might not mean anything, of course; he or she might have been asleep. I imagine being born is exhausting.”

Handing back the snapshot, Maddie said, “It’s sort of creepy to think someone would clean up a dead infant to take its picture.”

“I can understand it,” Olivia said. “People grieve in different ways.” She flipped through the remaining photos. “A few of these might be older relatives, probably Hermione’s, since Paine apparently cut off contact with his own parents. The rest are pictures of Hermione and Paine in what I suspect were happier days. Look at this one.” The dog-eared, faded photo she handed to Maddie showed the Chatterley couple dressed for a special occasion.

“Wow,” Maddie said. “I bet they were going to a Euro disco party. Or maybe a costume party; the look is a bit seventies, and Paine wouldn’t have arrived in Europe until the early eighties, right? Look at Hermione’s dress—the empire waist, filmy fabric, short.… She had good legs, too. And her hair! It was a lot like mine only honey blond and better behaved.”

“I barely recognize Paine with his hair hanging over his ears instead of brushed back,” Olivia said. “They look happy. They’re holding hands and grinning at the camera. I’d love to know who took the photo.” She turned it over and found nothing. “It’s odd that Hermione didn’t write anything on any of these pictures. My mom always records as much detail as she can fit in the space available. She says memories fade over a lifetime, so if you want to remember, write it down.”

“I suppose we can’t keep these photos, can we?” Maddie asked.

“Not a chance. Too risky.”

Maddie reached in her jeans pocket for her cell phone. “I’ll send them to my computer. They might turn out crappy, but you never know.”

While Maddie clicked each photo with her cell phone camera, Olivia finished searching the closet and every drawer in the bedroom. Hermione had brought very little with her. On the top shelf of the closet, Olivia found several items that had come from Chatterley Heights businesses, confirming their accusations that Hermione had stolen from them. Olivia left them untouched.

Checking her watch, Olivia said, “We need to get a move on. It’s going on four o’clock.”

“I’m good,” Maddie said. “Let us adjourn to the root cellar, shall we?”

“If we must.” Olivia replaced Hermione’s photos in their envelope, which she slid back into the coat pocket. “I hope those pictures weren’t in some special order that only Hermione would know.”

“I doubt she will dust them for fingerprints,” Maddie said. “Come on. The creepy crawlies await.”

“T
his is why I’ve never ventured down to the root cellar underneath The Gingerbread House,” Olivia said as she tried to extricate her hair from a clinging cobweb.

“I didn’t know there was one,” Maddie said. “Watch it. I believe I hear the scuffling of tiny rodent feet.”

“They better not be rats.”

“I had a pet rat when I was a kid. I named him Sir Reginald the Rat. He was sweet.”

“Your aunt Sadie was always a patient woman.” Olivia swept her flashlight across the dirt floor in front of her. So far, she hadn’t encountered much insect and animal life, but she suspected that armies of mice, rats, and spiders were gathering in the shadows, waiting for her to let down her guard.

“Here’s where Lucas found a door. He wanted to make sure no one got hurt trying to open it.” Maddie aimed her flashlight at five rectangular cuts of unfinished wood, each about three by six feet in size and one-half inch thick. They leaned lengthwise in a thick stack against the wall. Olivia ran her finger lightly along the edge of one piece and noticed the edge was smooth, as if it had been intended for use.

“Now I’m really curious,” Olivia said. “Let’s move this wood aside. I want to see that door.”

Olivia positioned her flashlight on a nearby shelf so it illuminated the boards. Maddie did the same. They tackled the first length of wood and found it difficult to slide along the uneven floor. Their combined strength wasn’t enough to lift it slightly off the floor, either.

“I keep forgetting how strong Lucas is,” Olivia said. “This has got to be solid oak. It’s much larger and heavier than a modern door, and there are four more of them.” She retrieved her flashlight and swept it around the area. “I think we have enough room to swing them sideways and ‘walk’ them out of the way.”

“Livie, I have known you all these years, and I had no idea you possessed such an impressive spatial imagination.”

“Chalk it up to self-preservation,” Olivia said. “I’m hoping to avoid wrenching my back moving those suckers.”

Maddie gripped one side of the wood with one hand and
the top corner with the other. “Ready? Come on, Livie, I can’t stand the suspense much longer.”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Olivia said as she grasped the other edge. “Let’s walk it out from the stack a bit.” She managed to slide her edge away from the wall. “Now you slide your side forward. Good. Now you stay where you are, and I’ll walk my end around in front of you in a semicircle. See how it works?”

“Cool. I’m sure I could have thought of that,” Maddie said. “In about a million years.”

“You are the adventurer; I am the planner,” Olivia said. “It works for us. Now we walk the board backward and lean it against the wall.”

“Why can’t we just let it fall against the wall?” Maddie asked as she let go of her grip on the wood.

“Because it’ll make too much—” Olivia didn’t let go in time, and the wood slammed into her finger, pinning it against the wall. “Ouch!” She flinched as she extracted her finger.

“Oh no! I’m sorry,” Maddie said. “Did you break anything?”

Olivia flexed her fingers. “No broken bones or skin. Just a nasty pinch.”

“Should we stop?”

“No way. Neither bugs, nor blood, nor broken bones…” The maneuver went more quickly and smoothly the second time through, except they both let go a moment too soon, and the wood landed against the wall with a thud.

“We should probably try to be quieter,” Olivia said. “Just in case.”

The last two boards landed more smoothly. Olivia took stock of the result and determined that they could open the door, if it opened at all, at least halfway. “A job well done,”
she said. “Are you sure Lucas didn’t at least try to peek inside before he covered the door?”

“Sweet Lucas,” Maddie said, shaking her head. “He is totally adorable and, of course, manly, but avid curiosity isn’t his strongest characteristic. He figured he’d do a more thorough plan of the mansion once the celebration was over, when he’d have more time to work on his video of the restoration work. So yeah, if Lucas said he didn’t look behind the door, he didn’t look behind the door.”