When the Cookie Crumbles (31 page)

Karen’s high heels clicked a staccato beat on the tile floor as she strode across the meeting room toward Rosemarie and Olivia. “Rosemarie,” Karen said, “I’m glad you’re here. The committee has a great deal to discuss, so we’ll be working here for some time. I’m sure you would like to go home, but I’m afraid we’ll need lots of coffee.”

Quill appeared at Rosemarie’s shoulder.

“Please have Matthew stay as well,” Karen said.

Rosemarie paled. “I don’t see why Matthew can’t go—

“I passed him outside, cleaning up the lawn,” Karen said. “Honestly, people think nothing of tossing trash on public property. When he’s finished, perhaps he could sweep the floor in here. I find a messy room distracting.” Karen left without waiting for a response.

“I’d better see about the coffee,” Rosemarie murmured.

Quill shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
Staring at the floor, he said, “I’ll give you a hand with the refreshments, if you like.”

Rosemarie gave him a brief smile. “Oh no, Quill, it’s sweet of you, but I can manage. Maddie already offered to help out, and you must be tired.”

Quill raised his eyes to Rosemarie’s face. “I’m sorry you’ve been put in such a difficult position,” he said. “I mean, because of what happened to Paine.”

Rosemarie touched his arm lightly. “That is kind of you, Quill.”

So Quill does still care for Rosemarie.
Olivia hoped he wasn’t naive enough to believe Rosemarie might turn to him in her time of trouble. “Go ahead and start the coffee, Rosemarie,” Olivia said, “I’ll finish putting out the chairs.” She picked up two folded chairs, which Mr. Willard rushed to take from her. Before joining her fellow celebration committee members, she looked around the room for Maddie. Unless she was hiding behind a gingerbread house, Maddie had left the room.

Ten minutes later, clattering cups and a squeaky wheel announced Rosemarie’s arrival with a coffee cart. Olivia used the distraction to slip into the hallway and head for the kitchen, where she found Maddie emptying the community center’s large dishwasher in preparation for a final load of soiled items from the gingerbread house baking extravaganza.

“Hey there,” Maddie said. “You must be desperate to avoid one last committee meeting, if you’re so eager for cleanup duty.”

“Kitchen duty sounds heavenly compared to what awaits me, but I wanted to ask a favor. Spunky’s little calming medicine should have worn off by now, but he’s still sound asleep. I’m a bit worried. Would you keep checking on him? If he’s awake, maybe you could take him for a walk?”

“Sure…” Maddie studied Olivia’s face. “Anything else?”

“I worry about the little guy, that’s all.”

“Uh-huh.”

“What’s with the intense stare? Spunky is sensitive; I’m his mom.”

“You’re planning something, aren’t you? You have that look. I’ll bet you want Spunky out of here because you’re afraid somebody might get violent or something. I’m right, aren’t I?” Maddie pushed aside a stack of dirty bowls and hoisted herself up onto the counter. “Come on, spill,” she said. “Should I hide in the gingerbread village and take notes? Should I call Del and Cody?”

“Don’t be silly,” Olivia said. “I’m not planning to unmask a murderer. I just don’t want Spunky to wake up in a strange room and panic. However, since you bring it up, I have been thinking more about that list of unanswered questions we brainstormed.” Olivia patted her ribs. Her décolletage had prevented her from stuffing the folded lists down the front of her blouse, so she’d laced them inside her gray bodice. However, she knew the questions by heart. “Karen ordered Rosemarie and Matthew to hang around, which means all our suspects except Hermione are in the building. I’m hoping a detail or two might slip out. Maybe I can fill in a few blanks. Then I’ll spill it all to Del, and he can take it from there.”

“But you don’t want me to be there, right? That is so not fair.”

“You’re blowing this all out of proportion.”

“Of course I am.” Maddie’s eyes sparkled. “I’ll check on Spunky, don’t worry.”

“You’re going to eavesdrop on the meeting, aren’t you? Because if you aren’t, who are you, and what have you done with Maddie?”

Maddie clasped her hands like an excited child. “I’ll bring out refreshments, make sure there’s plenty of coffee, maybe clean up a bit.…” Maddie opened the pantry door and retrieved the shawl embroidered with passion flowers. She tossed it around Olivia’s shoulders and said, “Better wear this, or no one will take you seriously.”

“Listen, Maddie, if you insist on loitering in the meeting room, I have an assignment for you.”

“Name it.”

“If it looks like the meeting is breaking up, and you hear me say something about going home and getting some rest, leave the room and call my cell. You can hang up right away. I just want it to ring.”

“No way am I hanging up,” Maddie said. “Tell me your plan.”

“Really, there’s no plan. It’s just in case—”

Rosemarie poked her head into the kitchen, and Ellie’s head appeared beneath Rosemarie’s chin.

“Livie,” Rosemarie said, “Karen is getting impatient to start the meeting, and she’s in a mood.”

“I’m afraid Binnie has been taunting her,” Ellie added.

“You’d better get in there fast, or you’ll be Karen’s first victim,” Rosemarie said before disappearing.

Ellie bestowed a gentle, concerned smile. “I’ll be wandering among the gingerbread houses, should you need me. And I’m rather afraid you will.”

M
ayor Karen Evanson cast a stern glance around the circle of beleaguered volunteers. Olivia prepared for an unpleasant experience by renewing her vow to avoid any
future involvement with committees. Or any group led by Karen Evanson.

Karen reached into her ever-present, ever-expanding file and produced her voice-activated handheld recorder. “Overall,” she began, “the Chatterley Heights two-hundred-fiftieth birthday celebration went fairly well. By that I mean none of our visitors appeared distressed by the myriad gaps and errors in the organization and administration of the event.” Karen’s piercing gaze focused on Olivia. In the artificial light, Karen’s eyes reminded Olivia of a great horned owl. “Did you have something to add, Ms. Greyson? I distinctly heard you sigh.”

Before Olivia could think of a response, rescue came from the seat next to hers. Binnie Sloan produced a small notebook, a pencil, and her own recorder. “Just so you know, Karen, I intend to record and take notes on everything that’s said here tonight. It’ll be in next week’s article about the celebration. You might want to think about that.”

“Put the recorder and notebook away,” Karen said. “This discussion is privileged.”

Mr. Willard cleared his throat. He still wore his British barrister’s outfit, minus his white wig. Tapping his fingertips together, Mr. Willard said, “I would need to review the Maryland sunshine laws, but I believe our little gathering might qualify as a public meeting.”

Olivia heard a faint click as Karen turned off her handheld recorder.

“In which case,” Mr. Willard said, “we must allow public access to the content of our discussion. If we do not, it might appear as though we have something to hide. The press does have a right to provide an accurate, and I stress the word ‘accurate,’ report to the citizenry.”

Karen clicked her recorder on again. “Very well then, Ms. Sloan, we will begin our discussion with a summary of your behavior last Friday, the day of Paine Chatterley’s murder. As I recall, you were arrested by Sheriff Jenkins for entering the Chatterley Mansion without permission and taking unauthorized photographs. If that tidbit isn’t in your so-called article, I will see that it does appear in public records.”

Binnie shrugged her plump shoulders. “Why would that scare me? Reporters horn in on police investigations all the time. I was just doing my job.”

“Let me explain,” Karen said. “The sheriff did not consider you to be a murder suspect because he assumed you had no personal involvement with the victim. But what if the sheriff was wrong? As mayor, I would feel it necessary to order an investigation into your movements, your past, every detail of your life, in case you did, in fact, have a relationship with the victim and/or his wife. During such a thorough investigation, I suspect we’d uncover a number of libelous comments and doctored photographs you and your niece have published about our citizens. So far, we’ve tolerated your unprofessional behavior, but that can change. Lawsuits might result. It could get very messy for both of you.”

Olivia couldn’t say she’d ever seen Binnie hesitate in the face of a threat, but hesitate she did. She cared about her niece Nedra’s future. With another shrug, Binnie stuffed her notebook and pen back in their assigned pockets. “Have it your way.” Her secretive half smile said that her capitulation was temporary.

Karen skipped over Lucas Ashford, whose strong, sculpted features couldn’t hide his intense discomfort. Olivia cringed as Karen focused on Mr. Willard. Mild-mannered, gentlemanly Mr. Willard had crossed Karen
by bringing up the sunshine laws. He was about to be disciplined.

“Now we have the matter of Paine Chatterley’s false death certificate,” Karen said. “Mr. Willard, would you care to explain to us how such a mistake was made?”

Olivia had underestimated Mr. Willard. Unfazed, he cleared his throat and said, “I do apologize for the error. At the time, the town was hoping to open Chatterley Mansion to the public and could do so only if all ‘legitimate’ descendants were deceased. I contacted the appropriate officials about Paine Chatterley’s whereabouts and was sent a death certificate and other supporting documents. The examining physician’s description of the deceased was a good match to Paine Chatterley. Since this was nearly thirty years ago, DNA was not analyzed. Death occurred as a result of a skiing accident in Switzerland, and Paine’s identification papers were found on the body.”

“And yet, it wasn’t Paine,” Karen said.

“It was not,” Mr. Willard said. “A mountain climber came upon the body and reported it to the authorities. I was sent a copy of his account, which he was required to sign before being allowed to return to his native England. Everything seemed in order. I did not recognize the name and therefore failed to examine the signature thoroughly. The name was Howard Carswell, but the handwriting bears distinct similarities to examples of Paine’s writing I have in my files. Again, I do apologize.”

There wasn’t much Karen could say to such a straightforward explanation. But she couldn’t help herself. “Well, it created quite a mess. Try to be more careful in the future.”

Olivia tightened her shawl around her bare shoulders as the mayor’s gaze shifted to her. Perhaps no juicy criticism sprang to mind because, after several tense moments,
Karen moved on to Quill Latimer. Quill appeared comfortable in his cloak and PhD hood. His mortarboard lay on his crossed knee, the tassel hanging down the side of his shin. He answered Karen’s stare with the faintest of smirks, as if he found her personal critiques entertaining.

“Quill, we saw very little of you during the festivities. I thought I made it clear that, since you were not conducting tours of the mansion, you were to circulate among the visitors and talk about the history of Chatterley Heights. We deserve more prominence in Maryland state history, and the celebration was our chance.” Karen’s attempt at scathing criticism was a stretch, but she didn’t flinch under Quill’s disdainful stare.

“Isn’t it a shame,” Quill said, “that Paine Chatterley’s murder spotlighted your town, and you as its mayor, for all the wrong reasons.” Karen’s recorder clicked off as Quill leaned back in his folding chair and stretched out his long, thin legs. “Paine did seem pleased to see you last week when he and his wife first arrived in town. He sounded almost…lascivious.”

Olivia’s peripheral vision caught a movement from across the room, near the gingerbread town. She didn’t dare turn her head. She hoped Maddie had slipped into the room to eavesdrop on the meeting.

Karen wasn’t about to back down. Her eyes never wavered from Quill’s face as she restarted her recorder and said, “I have no idea what you are talking about. Paine obviously mistook me for someone in his past, someone who happened to have the same first name. Years of heavy drinking addled the man’s brain; that was clear from his erratic behavior. You, on the other hand, did have a prior relationship with Paine, didn’t you, Quill?” A hard smile
sharpened the perfect lines of Karen’s face. “It goes back, doesn’t it? All the way to high school?”

Quill’s body stiffened. “Everyone knows Paine and I went to high school together, and some people know the truth about what happened during that time. If I were you, I wouldn’t toss out vague insinuations. I could sue you successfully for slander, and if I decide to do so, good luck winning a congressional seat.”

Karen drew in a breath, as if to retort. Instead, she consulted her notes and said, “We need to move on. Local shops did a brisk business during the fete, and the town more than covered its expenses for decorations and so on. The opening parade could have gone more smoothly. Certainly the high school band needs improvement, but the spectators seemed appreciative.”

Lucas Ashford had neither contributed to the discussion nor found himself an object of criticism. Nevertheless, he looked like a lumberjack facing a hungry grizzly bear. Gazing around the circle, Olivia saw Mr. Willard’s eyelids drooping. He was, after all, well into his seventies, and it had been a demanding weekend. Quill Latimer scowled in the direction of his extended feet, and Binnie Sloan reminded Olivia of Spunky after he’d captured the steak from the Chatterley Mansion garbage can—triumphant and stubborn. Binnie wasn’t finished with Karen. Olivia herself felt both drained and intrigued.

Maddie appeared, as if on cue, carrying a plate laden with gingerbread cookies she’d whipped up in the community center during the last days of gingerbread house preparation. She had left her shawl in the kitchen and looked every inch the serving wench as she presented the cookie tray to each committee member in turn. Olivia grinned
inwardly when she saw Mr. Willard’s eyes stray to Maddie’s impressive cleavage, then flick away. Quill took a cookie and ignored Maddie’s charms. As she served Lucas, his face lit up with relief. Rosemarie abandoned her dust cloth to join the group, and Matthew followed, bringing along his mop.