As soon as Olivia locked the front door of The Gingerbread House at six p.m., her heart began to creep up her throat. Now that it was about to unfold, her plan to prove her brother’s innocence felt flimsy and foolish. If only she had more time to think it out....
“You seem jumpy, dear,” Ellie said from behind Olivia’s back, which made her jump. Ellie laughed. “I know you’re having second thoughts about this evening,” she said, “but really, what other choice do we have?”
“You sure know how to boost my confidence,” Olivia said.
“Too much confidence can be dangerous.” A worry wrinkle between Ellie’s eyebrows betrayed her own unease. “I believe I’ll take five minutes to center myself,” she said.
As her mother drifted toward the cookbook nook, Olivia straightened her spine and headed for the kitchen. She opened the door and heard Bertha’s voice say, “You’ll slice your own arm off.” The prediction was delivered with parental force.
Sounding snappish, Maddie said, “Would you rather be shot down like a . . . like a squirrel?” She held a chef’s knife in one hand and a cucumber in the other. Her hair resembled a brush fire.
Olivia looked from one tight face to the other and asked, “Am I missing something?”
“Okay, you settle this,” Maddie said, waving her knife in the air. “We’ve invited a bunch of murder suspects to our closed store. That might be safe in mystery movies, but in real life things could get messy. And dangerous. I think we should be armed.”
“And I think that would only make the situation more dangerous,” Bertha said, planting her fists on her slimming yet still ample hips.
If we were doing this for anyone but Jason . . . “Frankly,” Olivia said, “right now I’m scared of both of you. If we greet our guests with weapons, they will turn tail and run. I might join them.”
“But where’s our backup? Are we supposed to do this alone?” Maddie pointed her knife at Bertha and Olivia for emphasis.
“Maddie, please, put down that knife. You’re knocking years off my life expectancy. I agree with Bertha, no good can come of arming ourselves. Del and Cody will be here soon, I know they will.” I hope they will.
Maddie checked the kitchen clock. “It is six fifteen. Our murder suspects will begin arriving in fifteen minutes. What are we supposed to do, pelt them with ballerina cookies?”
“If they even show up,” Bertha said.
Behind Olivia, the kitchen door opened, and Ellie’s voice, serene with an edge, said, “I am newly re-centered, and I intend to stay that way. Need I say more?” Her audience of three shook their heads in chastened unison. “Good,” Ellie said. “Now, I hear noises outside the alley door. I predict our reinforcements have arrived.”
Olivia swung open the door on the first knock. Mr. Willard entered first. He smiled at Bertha, who rushed to him and threw herself into his arms. It was a testament to his wiry strength that he didn’t fall over. “Now dearest,” he said, “I couldn’t stay home and let you face this evening alone. Besides, someone might need an attorney.”
Sheriff Del and Deputy Sheriff Cody followed, each grasping one of Jason’s upper arms. Ellie shed her serenity and ran to her son.
Lucas Ashford brought up the rear. He wore jeans and a crisp blue T-shirt that revealed well-developed muscles. When he saw Maddie, his worried look softened into a tentative, bashful smile.
“Hey,” Maddie said.
“Hey, yourself.” Lucas edged to her side through the crowded kitchen. “I got worried.”
“Worried is good.” Maddie leaned against him. “So,” she said, looking toward Del and Cody, “can I assume you guys brought some firepower?”
With a loud sigh, Del said, “We decided to leave our assault rifles at home, but we do have our service revolvers. Jason isn’t a free man just yet.”
“Oh,” Maddie said. “Sorry, Jason, but don’t you worry. We’re about to smoke out the real killer.”
Jason looked thin and tired and not exactly bursting with hope. Olivia felt a tight squeeze in her heart as she watched him stare at the floor. At the same time, her resolve strengthened. “It’s almost showtime,” she said softly.
In ten minutes, the cookie trays were scattered around the sales floor, and tea and coffee bubbled away. By six forty-five, no one had shown up. Seven o’clock came and went with the same result.
“Don’t give up hope, dear,” Ellie said. “I have a strong feeling this experiment will work.”
Olivia had gone over and over the questions she hoped to ask her suspects. She needed another angle. “Del, did you look into Lenora Tucker’s story about Geoffrey King being afraid of a loan shark he owed money to?”
“Yeah, I talked to King’s parole officer, who asked around. It seems King wasn’t lying about that, except he seemed to be keeping up his payments. If he was stealing enough high-end stuff, that might explain it. He sure couldn’t keep a job.”
“Also, he was blackmailing Charlie Critch and who knows who else,” Olivia said.
At that moment, the front doorbell rang. Bertha bounced up to welcome Heather Irwin, who was followed by Charlene and Charlie Critch. Charlene carried a loaf of fresh whole wheat bread, which she tossed at Olivia before throwing her arms around Jason’s neck. “Oh Jason, I’m so glad you’re okay.”
Jason held her tightly and buried his face in her shoulder. Charlie stood nearby, fidgeting with the ribbon on a bottle of red wine.
Bertha again answered the doorbell and Raoul Larssen entered the store. He wore a white shirt and jeans, which emphasized his muscular legs and broad shoulders. However, Olivia doubted anyone could mistake him for a construction worker. His dark eyes explored the store before coming to rest on Ellie Greyson. “Ah, my favorite pupil,” he said. When Olivia greeted him, he executed a quick bow and handed her a bottle of Chilean cabernet sauvignon. Inexpensive, yet excellent. “I offer this in celebration of your brother’s freedom,” he said. “And also for your kindness. Ms. Overton explained to me that you begged her to be lenient with me for my . . . for omitting to mention my daughter’s visit.”
“How thoughtful of you,” Olivia said.
“Ms. Overton said you offered to pay her the extra rent I owe her. This is too generous of you and not necessary. It was merely a mistake on my part. I have already taken care of the problem.”
Ellie took the bottle from Olivia’s hands. “This looks delicious, Raoul. Will you join me in a glass? You don’t have to teach tonight, do you? I’ve been hoping for a chance to chat with you. What class will you be starting next?” Ellie removed the cork with the ease of experience and poured three glasses.
Raoul accepted his wine and took a small sip. “I am so sorry to tell you this, my dear Ellie, but we will be leaving soon. I have made arrangements to teach elsewhere. They want me to begin immediately, and my classes here are coming to an end, so . . .”
“Oh no!” Ellie said. “I was so hoping to meet your daughter. From what I’ve heard, she’s a stunning ballerina. Livie has seen her dance, you know.”
“And I want to talk to her,” Olivia said. “She might have seen something in the park that could clear Jason.”
Raoul’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “But I understood that your brother has been cleared of the . . . the crime.”
“I know it’s confusing,” Olivia said. “Jason has been released because the police realized they don’t have any more evidence against him than certain other possible suspects.” She directed a deliberate glance across the room at Charlene and Charlie Critch, who were chatting with Jason, Bertha, and Mr. Willard.
Raoul took two sips of his wine before saying, “I’m afraid there is no time to visit. My new job begins so quickly, you see.” An elegant shrug of his shoulders conveyed regret, apology.
“Perhaps I could visit her,” Olivia said. “We have enough help with the store. I could come over tomorrow morning for a short visit, say, at nine o’clock? I’ll help her pack.”
Raoul placed his empty wineglass on a table. “I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” he said. “She will be gone, I have made the arrangements. She needs quiet, rest. Ever since her . . . her accident, she has been so fragile. It would be useless to speak to her, anyway, because her memory is often unclear. I must get back to her now.”
Before Raoul could back away, Ellie captured his arm. “Raoul, if this is the last time I will see you, then I will not allow you to leave so soon. You will have another glass of that delicious wine and meet my son, Jason. Livie, dear, would you . . . ?” She nodded toward the wine bottle. Olivia filled Raoul’s empty glass and trotted behind her mother, who smoothly trapped Raoul inside the small circle surrounding Jason.
Olivia sidled up next to Del. In a voice loud enough for everyone to hear, she said, “How about holding a plate for me while I pack some ballerina cookies for Raoul to take back to his daughter?”
Del followed her to a tray piled with cookies. Olivia handed him a heavy paper plate, on which she arranged cookies shaped like toe shoes, ballet slippers, and ballerinas performing a variety of moves. “Raoul is desperate to keep me or anyone from talking to his daughter. He’s going to get her out of town as soon as he leaves here, I’ll bet on it.”
Del leaned toward her. “And you think this is significant because . . . ?”
“I think Valentina knows something about King’s murder. Raoul doesn’t want her involved, he says, because she is so fragile. Only I can’t help but wonder . . . Del, I’m going to play a hunch tonight, and I might need your help.”
Del sighed.
“Enough with the sighing, okay? I know you don’t want me involved, but I am, so either deal with it or . . . well, that’s your only choice.” Olivia covered the plate with plastic wrap. “Follow my lead. I want to find out what Charlene had on King. She claims it was the reason she wasn’t really afraid of him.”
“Maybe she was bluffing,” Del said.
“Maybe, but I don’t think so.” Olivia met his eyes and saw worry in them. “I’m not afraid,” she said with a teasing smile. “You have a gun.”
With Del’s help, Olivia delivered a tray of cookies and another of cut-out vegetable sandwiches to the quiet group. “Especially for you, Charlene,” Olivia said as she placed the cut-out sandwiches within reach. Charlene actually smiled at her. After several peaceful moments had passed, Olivia said, “You know, Charlene, I’m really curious about something. When I checked on The Vegetable Plate and found Geoffrey King creating havoc, I heard him say something like, ‘I’ll kill her.’ I had the sense he was looking for a particular item, something really important to him.”
Charlene dabbed at her chin, where a drop of red juice had dripped from her tomato sandwich. “I can’t imagine what.”
“Well, I wondered because he was so violent, yet later you told me you weren’t afraid of him.”
Charlene shrugged and selected a carrot-shaped sandwich.
“Maybe it’s something you didn’t know you had,” Del said. “It would sure be helpful to us if you could figure out what it might be.”
“I have no idea.” Charlene shifted her chair closer to Jason, who reached for her free hand.
“Well, I sure don’t miss Geoffrey King,” Charlie said. “I didn’t kill him, but I was glad to get him off my back.”
“Oh Charlie, you knew I could protect you,” Charlene said.
“How?” Olivia asked. “With the evidence you had against Geoffrey King?”
In her most gentle, mothering voice, Ellie said, “You are among friends, Charlene. It can be such a relief to let go of secrets. One often finds they are not nearly as shameful as one thought they were.”
With a casual shrug, Charlene said, “Oh, I’m not ashamed. I made a promise that I wouldn’t use the information unless absolutely necessary. And now it won’t ever be necessary. It would have stood up in court, though. I had a signature and everything.”
“Is this something King was never prosecuted for?” Del asked.
“My friend never told anyone but me. She didn’t want to press charges, even though I told her I’d support her. She said no one would believe either of us. So we came up with this idea that she’d write it all down, and I’d keep it safe.”
“Do you still have all this information? Geoff never got hold of it?” Olivia asked.
Charlene snickered and said, “Geoff wasn’t as smart as he thought he was. He tore apart my store, thinking I’d be silly enough to hide it there. It’s in my safe-deposit box. Someday I’ll burn it.”
“Who was this woman, Charlene?” Del leaned toward her, pressing hard. “What was her name?”
“I’ll keep her secret forever,” Charlene said, her delicate chin in the air. “She deserves her privacy.”
“But Geoffrey King was murdered,” Del said, “and his killer hasn’t been—”
“More wine, anyone?” Ellie said, holding a bottle in each hand. “Come on, this is a celebration.”
When the atmosphere had settled, Olivia turned to Del. “So when do I get my Duesenberg back?”
“Your what?”
“Duesenberg, it’s a—”
“Classic car, I know.”
“Actually, it’s a tin cookie cutter, and I want to give it to Jason as a homecoming gift.”
“I forgot all about that.” Jason’s smile made him look more like the eager kid he’d been only days earlier. “Why does Del have it?”
“I didn’t know I did,” Del said. “I guess I should have asked you or Maddie what that cookie cutter shape was meant to be, but I wanted to keep it to myself. So much for that idea. Thanks, Livie.”
“Don’t mention it. Any idea how it got into the dead man’s hand?” Olivia took careful note of her listeners’ reactions. Bertha, Mr. Willard, and Cody maintained their watchful silence. Heather Irwin looked as if a weight had been lifted from her mind. Ellie smiled serenely, as usual. Raoul’s expression was thoughtful, attentive. Charlene looked bored, Charlie stared at the floor, and Jason frowned at Charlie.
“Charlie?” Jason asked. “You didn’t . . . did you? We talked about this. You said you’d stopped.”
“I know, I know.” Charlie’s young face scrunched up as if he were about to cry. “It was for you, Jason. I felt bad that you didn’t win it, like you wanted. Only I didn’t give it to you because I realized you’d figure out I . . . stole it. I was going to sneak it back over here, but I never got the chance.”
“Charlie!” Charlene balled up her fist at her brother but slammed the arm of her chair instead. “Those cookie cutters you gave me, you stole them, too, didn’t you? Now look what you’ve done. You’ve gotten yourself in trouble again. You’ll wind up in jail, Charlie. I can’t bear it.”
Jason reached his arm around Charlene’s tight shoulders. “It’s okay, Charlene, I’ll pay for the cutters. Charlie isn’t . . . He takes things sometimes when he’s under pressure, like with Geoff blackmailing him, and he only does it to please the people he loves.”
Olivia did a mental double take. Who was this thoughtful adult pretending to be her brother? “There’s another problem, Jason,” she said. “Remember, the Duesenberg cookie cutter wound up in Geoffrey King’s hand. So we have to wonder, did it fall out of the killer’s pocket? Or did the killer or another person place it in his hand to implicate someone else?”
“No one will believe me,” Charlie said, hanging his head, “but I lost it. All I know is it disappeared. I looked all over for it so I could bring it back to The Gingerbread House.”
“That sounds pretty convenient,” Del said. He signaled to Cody, who stood in back of Charlie’s chair ready to arrest him.
“No!” Charlene linked arms with her brother. “Charlie had nothing to do with it. I put that tin thing in Geoff’s hand. It never occurred to me that you might have stolen it, Charlie, or I wouldn’t have.... I was trying to help you. When I found that Dues-whatever, I figured anybody could have dropped it in my store after shopping at The Gingerbread House, so I thought.... Oh, I don’t know what I thought. I wanted to confuse the police so they wouldn’t assume Charlie killed Geoff to protect me.”
“But wait a minute,” Olivia said. Her head was spinning. “How did you even know King was dead?”
“Because I saw the murder—or part of it, anyway. I was upstairs. I woke up and looked out the window onto the park and saw a man leaning down. There was enough light from the band shell lamp that I could see what looked like a body on the grass. The man who was leaning over picked up something and threw it away. Then he ran off.”
“Which way?” Del asked.
“I’m not sure, it was getting really dark. Anyway, I ran downstairs and couldn’t find Charlie, so I got scared and . . . That stupid cookie cutter was on a shelf under the cash register, so I grabbed it and ran outside.” Charlene shivered. “I could tell right away that the dead man was Geoff. I was so afraid Charlie had killed him. I looked around until I found a knife in the grass. It was one of my vegetable knives. I didn’t know what to do. I could hear thunder, and I thought, well, rain will wash off the knife. So I left it. Maybe that was stupid.” Charlene shot an insecure glance at Jason.
Olivia asked, “That knife was part of a set, wasn’t it, Charlene?”
Charlene nodded. “Geoff stole them one by one because he knew I loved them. I’ll probably never get them back. Maybe I don’t want to.”
Olivia asked, “Weren’t those knives found in your barn, Heather?”
Heather’s normally open expression grew guarded. “I think you claimed you saw at least one knife when you found the stuff Geoff stole and hid in my small barn. But I never saw any of that. I practically never go near that barn. Anyway, this is the first I’ve heard of the cookie cutter Charlene says she planted in Geoff’s dead hand.”
Never mess with a librarian.
“I didn’t mean to . . .” Charlene had lapsed into nervous whining. “I already explained, I only put that cookie cutter in Geoff’s hand to confuse everybody.”
“You certainly accomplished that,” Del said. “You also managed to implicate Charlie, Olivia, Jason, Maddie, and others I’ll probably think of later.”
“No,” Charlene said, “not Charlie. I ran back to The Vegetable Plate. I wasn’t gone more than five or six minutes, and there was Charlie, curled up behind a bookcase, sound asleep. I hadn’t thought to look for him there. And he hadn’t been outside because his shoes and pant legs were perfectly dry. I checked.”
“He didn’t wake up while you were running around the store or checking his pants?” Del asked.
“It would take a bomb to wake Charlie up,” Charlene said in her old, snide voice. “I left him asleep and went back upstairs.”
Del looked unconvinced. Olivia noticed that even her besotted brother regarded the love of his young life with puzzled concern. With Charlene on the defensive, Olivia decided to press harder. “Maybe you were gone longer than you thought,” she said. “Charlie could have sneaked in the back door, changed his clothes, and pretended to be asleep.”
“No!” Charlene looked to Jason for support and saw doubt on his face. “I’m not lying. It happened just like I said. Anyway, I keep telling you, Charlie didn’t have to be afraid. I could—”
“You could protect Charlie, so you keep saying.” Olivia held out her hands toward Charlene, palms up. “But how do we know you aren’t protecting him with this improbable story about the Duesenberg cookie cutter? He already admitted that he stole it. It’s much easier to believe that Charlie killed King and the cutter fell out of his pocket. Or if Charlie didn’t do it, then you did, and you were trying to cast suspicion on Jason. Everyone knew Jason loved that cutter.”
“But—” Frantic now, Charlene shot up from her chair. Her paper plate with the remains of a carrot sandwich scattered on the floor. Del stood up, his hand near his service revolver. Cody and Lucas moved in closer. Charlene reached beseechingly toward Jason, who looked like he was on the verge of collapse.
Olivia felt awful, but it was the only plan she had. “Charlene,” she said more gently, “you might be able to convince us of your innocence, and of Charlie’s, if the evidence you have against Geoffrey is powerful enough. It’ll need to be good because we already know that he hit you and destroyed your property.”
“It is powerful. I can bring it to you as soon as the banks open on Monday.”
“We will go with you,” Del said. “But meanwhile, tell us what we’ll find in your safe-deposit box.”
“It’s as simple as that, Charlene,” Olivia said. “Jason is still in danger, and he is my highest priority. If you refuse to convince us that you and Charlie had no reason to kill King, we’ll have to assume that you are lying.”
Charlene sank back into her chair. “Oh, all right. It’s just that I never wanted anyone to know about that time in my life. It was so humiliating. That’s why I let Geoff get away with hitting me, even though I could put him in jail. But I suppose it doesn’t matter anymore.”
Jason intertwined his fingers with Charlene’s, and her shoulders relaxed. “I was in the hospital for a while after my annulment. It wasn’t the first time.” Charlene locked eyes with Jason, her best high school friend. “I met someone there who knew Geoff, someone he’d hurt badly. She was in the hospital recovering. He did that a lot—hurt women. Anyway, she and I got to be friends, at least until I left the hospital. She didn’t want to press charges. I never saw her again after that, but she gave me a signed note stating what Geoff did to her. She said if I needed protection from him, I could use the note, even if it meant giving it to the police.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Olivia saw Del get up and stretch, as if he were satisfied and ready to leave. Cody checked his cell phone, and Raoul refilled his wineglass. Olivia felt a wave of exhaustion, but she wasn’t ready to let go. There was more, she felt sure of it.
“Who was the woman you got the statement from?” Olivia asked. “What was her name?”
Charlene heaved an exhausted sigh. “Oh Livie, does it really matter? Let us have our privacy.”
“Why were you both in the hospital? What kind of hospital was it?”
“There’s no reason for you to be ashamed, Charlene,” Jason said. “Tell them.”
Charlene’s lower lip began a pout, but a look from Jason reversed it. “We were being treated for anorexia,” she said.
Olivia tried to catch Del’s eye, but he was writing a text message. “And your friend, was she by any chance a lovely young ballerina who had been slashed down the cheek—?” Olivia hopped sideways as the chair beside her did a somersault backward. A second earlier, Del had been sitting in that chair. He ran at Raoul, who threw his glass of wine at Del’s eyes. His aim was perfect. Del hesitated for only a split second, wiping his eyes with his sleeve to clear his vision.
Cody was too far away to help, so he aimed his revolver at Raoul.
“No weapons,” Del yelled. He raced across the sales floor, knocking over display tables as he positioned himself between Raoul and the front door. Del adopted a fighter’s stance, bent forward, ready to tackle.
As if he had rehearsed for months, Raoul took a few running steps and lifted into the air like a gazelle. Startled, Del ducked. Raoul’s long, outstretched legs cleared Del’s back by inches and delivered him nearly to the front door. As Raoul reached toward it, the door opened on its own.
Olivia’s ex-husband Ryan stood in the doorway. “There you are, Livie,” Ryan said, looking past Raoul and Del, both frozen in place. “Sorry I’m late. This town is so small, I almost missed it.” Raoul tried to push past Ryan, who was not accustomed to jostling by strangers. “Hey, buddy, watch it.” With Del gaining on him, Raoul hit Ryan in the chest with a powerful shoulder. Ryan’s face turned beet red.
Del and Cody were within grabbing distance of Raoul. Olivia, who knew Ryan’s stubbornness and his temper, called out to him, “Ryan, get out of the way. Let the police handle this.”
Ryan ignored her. He swung his fist into Raoul’s stomach, then yowled in pain. Raoul stumbled backward into Del and Cody, throwing them off balance. All three fell in a heap on the floor. Del was the first to recover. He rolled up on his knees and got a firm hold on Raoul’s wrists, while Cody slapped on some handcuffs. Raoul stopped struggling. To Olivia’s surprise, he began to cry.
“What is this, the Wild West?” Ryan held his injured right hand gently in his left palm. “I think my hand is broken. I’m holding all of you responsible,” he said to the three winded men. “If this damages my surgery career, I’m suing you all.”
Olivia suppressed a giggle, telling herself she was simply nervous. Ryan didn’t deserve to have his hand broken. Well, maybe he did.... The Gingerbread House was a mess. Tables lay on their sides, their precious cookie cutter displays spread all over the floor. Several mobiles hung crookedly, as if they’d been used as swinging vines. At least the expensive baking equipment had been spared.
Ryan caught sight of Olivia across the sales floor. “Livie, come over here. I’m taking you away from this . . . this uncivilized backwater right now.”
Olivia ignored him.
“Olivia Greyson, do you hear me?”
Del shot a glance in Olivia’s direction, and Maddie moved up beside her. Olivia felt perfectly calm as she gazed across the cluttered floor at her ex-husband. “You’d better get that hand looked at, Ryan,” she said. “We have a small hospital in this backwater, but I think they own an X-ray machine. I’m sure Del or Cody will be glad to run you over there as soon as they are done here.” Without waiting for a response, Olivia picked her way through cookie cutters to the table where the wine and glasses miraculously stood undamaged. She poured two glasses and handed one to Maddie. “To The Gingerbread House,” she said, clinking Maddie’s glass.
“Long may she live,” Maddie said, the hint of a tear in her voice.