When the Cookie Crumbles (24 page)

“Well then, let’s see if it even opens after all this time and dampness.” The door in the wall came up to Olivia’s chest. She clutched the small, rusty knob and yanked. It came off in her hand.

“Crap,” Maddie said.

Olivia unzipped her jacket pocket and drew out her screwdriver.

“There’s that planning gene again,” Maddie said.

“Can’t help myself.”

“Hey, it’s a quality I count on.” Maddie retrieved her flashlight and aimed it at the edge of the door.

“I’ll try not to damage anything,” Olivia said, “though we already moved the boards and yanked the knob off, so it will be obvious to Lucas that someone tried to open this door. If he ever gets to finish the restoration, that is.” Olivia kept her hurt finger out of harm’s way.

“Have I mentioned Lucas’s lack of curiosity? He’ll assume another worker moved the boards and the knob fell off on its own. I doubt Lucas would notice screwdriver marks, either. If he ever mentions them, I’ll distract him. I have my ways.”

Olivia chuckled, then swore under her breath as the screwdriver took out a chunk of wall. “I thought this wall would be harder; it’s solid wood. I forgot about dampness and dry rot.”

While Olivia worked on the door, Maddie said, “We’re right under the kitchen, but maybe this wall isn’t flush with the wall upstairs. That would allow space for a storage area. Maybe it’s a secret hiding place for valuables. I’m thinking cookie cutters here, of course.”

Another chunk of wall fell out, and Olivia said, “We might as well go for it.” She wedged the end of her screwdriver as far as she could into the crevice between the door and the wall. As she hit the screwdriver handle with her fist, she felt it sink deeper. “Here goes,” she said as she pushed the screwdriver handle toward the wall. The door groaned, then cracked open a fraction of an inch.

Maddie’s flashlight bobbed as she gasped with excitement. “Can you open it?”

“Almost.” Olivia reinserted her screwdriver and pushed hard on the handle. She felt the door shift an inch or so, scraping the floor. Handing her screwdriver to Maddie, Olivia slid her fingers through the opening, grabbed the edge of the door, and pulled with all her strength. She grimaced at the pressure on her finger.

Maddie squealed with excitement. “It worked!”

Olivia put her fingers to her lips. “You can scream later.”

“Yes, ma’am. Can I go in first?”

“With my gratitude,” Olivia said. Unlike Lucas, she had plenty of imagination, and she didn’t like what she was picturing beyond the door.

Apparently, Maddie had rosier expectations because she eagerly slid through the opening, disappearing behind the door. After several moments, Maddie said, “Crap.”

“What? Are you okay?” Olivia envisioned everything from a swarm of rats to a pile of bones.

“I’m fine, but…well, take a look for yourself.”

Olivia peeked through the opening and saw Maddie’s back. “Could you move aside? You’re blocking the view.”

“I’m coming out. There’s not much room to maneuver in here,” Maddie said.

As Olivia edged through the narrow opening, her heart climbed up her throat. Maddie had not looked thrilled. As Olivia swirled her flashlight around, she understood why. It was impossible tell what had once been behind the door, even whether it had been a tunnel or a room. There was barely enough space for one person, and she had to crouch to avoid bumping her head against a rotting beam. Inches beyond her toes, dirt piled higher than her head, making further movement impossible. The dirt might have fallen through the disintegrating ceiling, or perhaps the construction had never been completed. Olivia was surprised by the depth of her disappointment.

“What a letdown,” Olivia said as she reentered the root cellar.

“Shh,” Maddie whispered, her hand on Olivia’s shoulder. “I think I hear something.” Maddie pointed upward.

Olivia switched off her flashlight. At first she heard nothing but the random creaks that old houses always make. She whispered, “I don’t—” But then she heard the distinct tinkle of a glass or plate smashing. Someone was in the house. It was Olivia’s turn to say, “Crap.”

Maddie leaned toward Olivia and whispered, “What should we do?”

Olivia could barely see the boards against the wall, but she knew they would be a red flag to someone who knew the mansion well. Besides, the hidden door was open. With the lights out, she couldn’t bring to mind anyplace in the root cellar that might provide cover. If whoever was
upstairs came downstairs…Olivia put her lips close to Maddie’s ear. “We’re probably goners,” she said, “but all we can do is be quiet and wait. Maybe whoever is up there doesn’t know about the root cellar.”

“What are the odds of that?” Maddie whispered.

“Slim to none. But we have no choice.” Olivia clutched Maddie above the elbow and edged them away from the open door. The sounds upstairs grew more distant, as if the intruder had left the kitchen and dining room and moved to another area of the mansion. This might be the person who’d been searching the mansion at night. It couldn’t be Hermione Chatterley unless she had miraculously recovered from her heart attack and was determined to bring on a second one. A chill quivered through Olivia’s body, and it had nothing to do with the clammy air in the root cellar. It was a good bet that whoever seemed to be ransacking the mansion at that moment was also involved in Paine Chatterley’s murder.

Olivia risked switching on her flashlight to illuminate their way to a less obvious area of the root cellar. There wasn’t much to choose from, but in one corner she saw a chipped ceramic gas stove, a 1950s model. She and Maddie might be able to squeeze behind it without too many limbs sticking out. She guided Maddie’s elbow toward the dubious shelter.

There was enough room behind the stove to hide both women if they turned sideways and squatted, which meant being up close and personal with the floor. Maddie used her flashlight to take a quick look and said, “Ick. I propose we stand up unless the danger becomes imminent.”

“I second.” Olivia slid behind the stove and thought about brightly colored sugar cookies, lots of them, in comforting shapes, like bunnies and puppies.

“Who do you think is up there?” Maddie asked in a low voice.

Olivia hesitated, puzzled by the level of destruction that seemed to be going on upstairs. “I think this is about more than cookie cutters. That’s a very angry person, or I’m not the second best baker in town.”

“You’re tied with Aunt Sadie for second, but I get your point. Matthew Fabrizio is the most obvious candidate, but he’s in jail. Again.”

“We’re assuming he is,” Olivia said. “Del didn’t say he’d actually found a gun, so he might have released Matthew by now. I wonder how angry Quill Latimer is after all these years. He didn’t seem too bothered when Paine Chatterley showed up at the store Tuesday evening, but he controls his feelings well. On the surface, anyway. Karen has been pretty upset with both Chatterleys ever since they arrived, and Rosemarie was beside herself about Matthew.”

“I can’t blame her,” Maddie said. “Paine played a nasty trick on Matthew, letting him think he’d be rewarded for finishing the gingerbread trim.”

A scraping sound, like heavy furniture being shoved across a wood floor, startled them into ducking down. “That sounded close,” Olivia whispered. “The dining room, maybe.”

“Do you really think a woman would be knocking furniture around like that?”

“Sexist,” Olivia said. “I’m not sure how strong Rosemarie is. Karen, on the other hand…Mom told me Karen can run circles around her—which is not easy, I can tell you. I know Karen works out, too.” Olivia shot up and shook her leg. “Ugh, I think something is crawling on my ankle. There, it’s gone.”

“Shh, listen,” Maddie said.

After several moments, Olivia said, “I don’t hear anything.”

“Exactly. While you were distracted, I heard footsteps overhead, in the kitchen. Then a door opened and closed. I’m thinking our short-tempered visitor has left.”

“That seems abrupt,” Olivia said.

“Let’s get out of here.” Maddie headed for the stairs. “I’m totally cured of my longing for adventure.”

“Who are you and what have you done with my friend? Okay, let’s make sure it’s safe up there, and then you go on home,” Olivia said. “I want to take another look around the mansion.”

“The mansion is probably wrecked even worse than it was before. What more do you need to know?”

“I’m just wondering.…” Olivia reached the top of the stairs and peered through the door. “All clear.” She listened for several moments before whispering, “I think we’re okay.”

Maddie followed her into the kitchen. “What were you wondering?”

Olivia led the way through the dining room, using her flashlight to help them avoid obstacles. As they entered the hallway, Olivia said, “I’m wondering if perhaps the intruder found what he or she was looking for.” She ran her beam along the wall, where framed paintings of nineteenth-century Chatterleys hung askew.

“Aha,” Maddie said. “You’re thinking the intruder has been searching for the Chatterley cookie-cutter collection and finally found it?”

“The Chatterley collection…maybe.”

“What else is there to look for?” Maddie sounded frustrated.

“Let’s check the front parlor,” Olivia said, “and then
call it a night. We can still grab a few hours of sleep before we have to start setting up our booth for the fete.”

“Why the front parlor?”

“Because before we examined the contents of the hidden storage area under the staircase, I peeked into the front parlor with my flashlight. I figured those velvet curtains were heavy enough to hide the light from anyone outside. The parlor looked the way it did when we visited Hermione—neat and orderly.”

The front parlor’s heavy curtains also blocked the moonlight, leaving the room in complete darkness. Olivia switched on her flashlight, and Maddie did the same. “Whoa,” Maddie said in a hushed voice. “This is not how I remember the front parlor from our visit with Hermione.”

“Look over there, along the wall,” Olivia said. “That long, heavy bureau has been moved away from the wall. There’s no carpet under it. I think that’s what we heard from downstairs, the bureau being scraped across bare wood.” She switched on an etched-glass table lamp. Warm light circled out, illuminating a section of wall that the long bureau had hidden. “Well, well,” Olivia said. “What have we here?”

Maddie whistled softly. “It looks like some kind of safe built into the wall, and the door is open.” She shone her light on the small enclosure. “It’s made of wood.” Maddie examined the open door. “This isn’t a safe,” she said, “just a plain door with a ring pull so it doesn’t stick out too far from the wall. It looks old. I know this bureau goes back to the 1800s, and Lucas decided not to bother painting the wall behind it. I bet a Chatterley had the opening created and put the heavy bureau in front to hide it.” Maddie shone her light deep inside the compartment. “If this is where the cutter collection was secreted, it isn’t here now.”

“That space could hold a few cutters, but not many,”
Olivia said. “The opening is fairly short and goes back a ways, almost like a letter slot. Maybe this is where important papers were kept. What we don’t know is whether it has been empty for decades or was emptied in the last half hour.”

Maddie ran her hand over the newly refinished wood floor, now freshly scraped in a semicircle. “This is definitely what we heard from downstairs shortly before the intruder took off. I’ll bet you a six-quart Pro Line stand mixer with all the attachments that he found something really important and took it with him.”

“Or her,” Olivia said. “Hermione Chatterley might not be able to move this bureau, but a younger, healthier woman could.”

As she turned off the lamp, Maddie asked, “If we knew what was hidden—assuming it was still here—do you think we would know who killed Paine Chatterley?”

“I think we’d be a lot closer to knowing,” Olivia said.

A
t four thirty a.m., Olivia unlocked the front door of her apartment, and Spunky shot past her. He stopped suddenly about halfway down the stairs.

Olivia called to him, “Spunks? It’s just me.” Whimpering, Spunky ran back up the stairs and into the apartment. Olivia followed, locking up behind her, while Spunky raced around the apartment like a pup possessed. Olivia had never seen him so frantic. She had left him alone in the apartment before, but never so late. Maybe her absence had made him feel trapped again, like he was back in the puppy mill.

When Spunky trotted back into the living room, Olivia sat on the sofa and held out her arms to him. He hesitated
for only a second before leaping onto her lap and snuggling close. Olivia realized he hadn’t felt trapped; he thought she had abandoned him.

“You funny little creature, I wouldn’t abandon you for all the cookie cutters in the world,” Olivia murmured, rubbing her cheek against the silky hair on his head. She noticed that Spunky was starting to need a bath. It was a smell she was growing to love as much as the aroma of lemon sugar cookies fresh out of the oven. Well, almost as much.

With Spunky relaxing in the crook of one arm, Olivia headed for her bedroom. The little guy had worn himself out; he barely opened his eyes when she nestled him at the foot of her bed. She dropped her clothes on the floor, pulled on a long T-shirt, and crawled under the covers. Leaning on her pillow, she checked her cell messages. She found one, from Rosemarie York, who said, “Livie, I know it’s late, but I wanted to catch you before you tried to talk to Del. It’s okay, he let Matthew out of jail about half an hour ago. The poor boy is home with me and really tired, so I sent him to bed. The sheriff said he hadn’t found any sign of a gun, at least so far.” Olivia heard Rosemarie’s voice deepen with anger. “I think Hermione was confused by firecrackers some kids were setting off, so she was expecting to see a gun. I don’t think that woman is right in the head. Anyway, thank you, Livie, for saying you’d talk to Del about Matthew, but now you don’t have to. Hope I didn’t wake you.”

Olivia checked the time of the call. One a.m. She’d turned her cell off by then. If Matthew Fabrizio was free by one a.m., he was back on the Chatterley Mansion intruder suspect list. For that matter, so was Rosemarie York. She’d sounded angry with Hermione. Moreover, Rosemarie was
passionate about antique cookie cutters. She could easily have copied Matthew’s key to the mansion so she could search for the famed collection.