A Cookie Before Dying (20 page)

 

 

“
I
’m telling you, Del, I didn’t need to see the whole thing to know it was a knife from Charlene’s set.”

“You aren’t driving, are you?” Del sounded worried.

“Oh, honestly, I have one little accident and suddenly I’m a menace to myself and others. All right, fine, I’ll pull over. Don’t hang up.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Olivia found a gravel turnaround and shifted into park. “Okay, here’s what I think,” she said. “Geoffrey King must have stolen the knife, probably as a sort of veiled threat to Charlene. I mean, from what I’ve heard about him, he resented losing his rich wife, so it makes sense he’d steal whatever he could from her. Especially if he could make her fearful that he might use one of those knives to hurt her or her brother.”

“Did you see anything that directly connected the items to Geoffrey King?”

“Who else would go around Chatterley Heights stealing expensive items? That had to be King’s stash. Besides, I’m sure there’s DNA and fingerprints all over the place.” Olivia heard a car door slam in the background. “You don’t intend to drive while we’re talking, do you?”

“I’m allowed,” Del said. “Or I could hang up, if that would make you more comfortable.”

“Ah, but then you wouldn’t hear the rest of my report.” Olivia told him everything else she could remember, including the presence of a ceramic cup used to brew fresh coffee. “Maybe King stole the cup from Charlene, too. Or he must have found a way into Heather’s house. Heather seems too cautious to hand a house key to someone she just met. Anyway, from the looks of that stall, King was seriously hooked on coffee.”

Del said, “King might have offered to do some handyman work around the house so Heather would give him a key during the day.”

“Geoffrey King? Handyman work? Wouldn’t Heather get suspicious when nothing got done? She’s quiet, but she isn’t dense. And wouldn’t she have noticed him coming and going from her barn? From the pile of paper coffee cups, he could easily have spent a couple of weeks holed up in that barn. Del, was one of those knives used to kill King?”

Del didn’t answer.

Olivia switched on her ignition. “I intend to drive again, so I’d better hang up or you’ll have me arrested. Be considerate when you get to Heather’s place. She has some awful bug, so don’t scare her with sirens. The house was dark when I left. She probably knocked herself out with cold medication, and she is undoubtedly contagious. If you give me whatever bug she’s got, I’ll have to kill you.”

“Understood. Just in case, I’ll wear a surgical mask when we go out to dinner on Friday.”

“Friday . . . ?” Olivia began. But Del’s cell had gone dead.

I
t was six p.m. by the time Olivia reached the turn-in for the short drive leading to Gwen and Herbie Tucker’s house. Only one hour to go before baby shower time. Her anxiety eased when she saw a little yellow Volkswagen and a red truck parked side-by-side near the side entrance. Gwen and Herbie owned the truck, so Herbie must have found someone to watch over the animals still residing at the Chatterley Paws shelter in town. He and Gwen were in the process of moving their furry charges to the renovated barn on their property. Maddie owned the yellow VW, which meant she’d finished the decorated cookie order in record time.

Maddie emerged from the side entrance and sprinted over to Olivia’s car. “I’m to help you carry folding chairs,” she said. “Where have you been so long? Gwen is frantic. I’m afraid that baby will pop just to get some rest. Thank goodness Gwen invited her obstetrician.” Maddie hauled three chairs from the PT Cruiser’s trunk.

Olivia lifted out two more chairs. “Don’t run off,” she said. “I’ve got a lot to tell you about why I was late getting back.”

Maddie’s eyes widened. “About the murder? Speak at once.”

“Probably about the victim, anyway. Also, I have a plan for us, so we’ll be multitasking this evening.”

“Goody,” Maddie said. “I am the queen of multitasking.”

While they carried folding chairs into the house, Olivia gave Maddie a quick, quiet summary of Ida’s story of the dancing ghost, the stolen items she’d found in Heather’s barn, her conversation with Del, and the information she hoped the two of them could gather while they helped host the Tucker baby shower.

“Our timing is exquisite,” Maddie said. “There’s nothing like decorated cookies to quell suspicions and loosen lips.”

“Except maybe wine, of which I saw several cases chilling in the basement.”

“I’ll take these last two chairs,” Maddie said. “Your shoulder has been through enough. Besides, I’m younger.”

“By mere months, but thanks for your concern.” As she held open the side door for Maddie, Olivia asked, “Are we good to go? Any questions?”

“Ready and eager. Let’s meet afterward to share information.”

“Good idea,” Olivia said. “My place, pizza and merlot. It’ll have to be frozen pizza, I’m afraid.”

“Not to worry, I’ll stop at the grocery on the way and pick up a few little enhancements.”

 

 

B
y seven p.m., guests began arriving at Gwen and Herbie’s house, parking wherever they could find a spot. The lawn would need reseeding. By eight, at least forty people had packed themselves into the house for the gift opening, after which many wandered outdoors to breathe. The cookies were gone and the wine half drunk, but Olivia hadn’t managed to pry any useful information from the guests. She missed having her mother there to make gentle suggestions, but she understood why Ellie and Allan had declined the invitation. Fielding the inevitable questions about Jason’s predicament would have been agony.

At least Maddie seemed to be making some headway. She’d flashed a thumbs-up at Olivia twice already. Noting that the wine supply was dwindling, Olivia made her way downstairs to get a few more bottles. When she returned to the kitchen, she found a tall, middle-aged woman using the bright light over the sink to check her makeup in her compact mirror. The woman arched her eyebrows unusually high, as if she were practicing a surprised expression. When she caught sight of Olivia, she said, “Why, it’s Livie Greyson, isn’t it?”

“I’m afraid I—”

“Oh, of course you don’t recognize me. You were a tiny slip of a girl when I left Chatterley Heights. Of course, I wasn’t much more than that myself, but, well, the years do march on, don’t they? And now, here you are all grown up and then some, and I’m home again.” She heaved a dramatic sigh.

Olivia noticed that the woman’s eyebrows had remained arched throughout her speech. They were fixed in place, almost certainly by a surfeit of cosmetic surgery.

“Oh but I must reintroduce myself. I am Lenora Dove.” She made her pronouncement as if there were nothing more to be said. When Olivia gave her a blank look, the corners of her scarlet lips drooped. “Well, I can see you are not a movie fan,” she said. “Young people these days seem to prefer squinting into a tiny computer screen to reveling in the big screen. Lenora Dove is my screen name, though Lenora is also my given name. In private life, I am Mrs. Bertie Bouchenbein, though you might remember me as Lenora Tucker.”

“Of course,” Olivia said, “you are Herbie’s aunt Len! I heard you were moving back to town. I’m so sorry about your husband. I never met him, but I’m sure you miss him deeply.”

“Oh, I do indeed.” As Lenora tilted her head in sadness, her sculpted dark blond curls remained glued in place. “By the way,” she said, “I go only by Lenora now.”

“Of course.” Olivia wondered how long that would last. Old nicknames die hard. “Have you been back in town long?”

“For only a week,” Lenora said, “but such an eventful week it has been. Brutal strangers and murders and arrests. . . .”

“Only one of each, actually.” Olivia sounded defensive; she vowed to be more careful.

“I’m so sorry, I forgot the young man arrested is your brother. He wasn’t even born when I left to seek my fortune in Hollywood. Such years.... I had parts in several films, you know, and I have it on the best authority that they will be reissued on DVD at any moment. That’s all I had time for, though, only a few films, and then I met the love of my life, Bertie Bouchenbein. He was twenty years older than I, but what is age? A mere number. He cast me in a film he was producing, and the rest is marital history.” Lenora touched a tissue to her cheek to imply emotion. “However, I am delighted to be back home.”

Olivia did not doubt that statement. According to Herbie, Uncle Bertie and Aunt Len spent every penny they earned as fast as they could. Bertie died penniless and without life insurance.

“Your dear brother—what was his name again? Jake? Jimmy?”

“Jason.”

“Yes, of course. Dear Jason will be vindicated. I feel it in my very being. I am quite sensitive, you know. It helped me enormously in all my acting roles. I am certain that nasty young man was killed by someone from the underworld. A loan shark, perhaps. He struck me as a grasping, greedy sort, and that type always needs money.”

“You
met
him?”

“Didn’t I mention that? I will never rid myself of the memory of that experience. A detestable young man. I met him briefly in that store, the one with all the vegetables.”

“The Vegetable Plate. Charlene Critch owns it.”

“Exactly. I am a vegetarian, you know. That’s how I keep my slender figure. I visited little Charlene’s vegetable patch late one evening and found the front door open. The store was dark, but since I was in need of some items, I ventured inside. I heard voices behind a door, loud voices. I surmised the door must lead to a kitchen. I opened it and peeked inside. My goodness, what a scene met my gaze! They weren’t aware of me at first, so I heard more than perhaps I should have, but really, it was just like walking in on a filming. Although of course it is nearly impossible to interrupt the actual filming of a movie scene. I remember once I—”

“So you heard Charlene and someone arguing?”

“I did indeed. That sylphlike girl was protecting herself from a man. He was tall and strong . . . quite well built, actually. But so very angry. Charlene was holding him off with a long knife. There was some sort of decoration at the top of the knife, but I only got a glimpse of the color. It was red, bloodred. The man was telling her she had to give him money or some other man was going to kill him. I naturally assumed he was talking about a loan shark situation. Years ago I had a part in a movie called
Dark, Dark City.
It was never released, some nonsense about a stolen script, but anyway, there were several unsavory characters threatening the hero with a slow, gruesome death because he couldn’t pay back a loan.”

“The man who was threatening Charlene, do you remember exactly what he said to her?” Olivia poured two glasses of wine and handed one to Lenora.

“I might.” Lenora downed her wine and handed the empty glass to Olivia, who refilled it. “I’m very good at memorizing dialogue, you know. Let’s see. . . .” She took a gulp from her second glass of wine. “Let me visualize the scene . . .” She closed her eyes. “The man was trying to grab little Charlene, who was fending him off with the knife. Then he said, ‘If you don’t give it to me, someone will arrive here from DC. He will be large and armed, and he’ll be coming to kill me. Only I won’t go down alone, you put that in your stupid noggin.’ And then Charlene said, ‘I hope he does kill you. If you don’t leave Charlie alone, I’ll point the guy in your direction.’ I could never forget such great lines.” Lenora drained her glass and held it out to Olivia. “I wouldn’t mind another,” she said.

While she filled Lenora’s glass a third time, Olivia said, “You need to tell all this to Del as soon as possible. It could be really important.”

“Del?”

“Our sheriff, Del Jenkins.”

“Ooh, that delicious young man with the warm eyes. I’d be delighted to tell him anything.”

Olivia was surprised to feel an instant prick of jealousy. Of course, Lenora was not a serious rival, but Olivia had assumed she was the only one who had noticed those warm brown eyes. A foolish assumption, clearly.

“I’ll give Del a call and tell him to drop by.” Olivia saw Lenora’s eyes stray toward the wine bottle. “Or maybe I’ll just tell him to call you to set up a time to meet. I’ll let you tell him your story in your own words. You do have a superb memory for dialogue.”

“So kind of you,” Lenora said, pouring herself a fourth glass of wine. This time she kept the nearly empty bottle within easy reach.

Olivia thought maybe she would suggest that Del wait until the next morning to interview Lenora. Late morning.

 

 

“
T
hat Lenora Tucker is a hoot,” Maddie said. “I liked her. We share a flair for the dramatic, and I can remember dialogue, too.”

“Can you polish off a bottle of merlot in twenty minutes and still speak coherently?”

“Would I need to be standing upright, as well?”