Dead Men Don't Eat Cookies (28 page)

“Crystal—”

“I need to tell them, Robbie. They have to understand.” Crystal turned back to Maddie. “I didn’t believe Kenny, but he wouldn’t back down. He said he’d found the Chatterley cookie cutter collection, that we’d be rich. He’d brought one home. I told him I was leaving him for good. I’d had enough of his schemes. Kenny begged me to stay. He came back here to collect more of the cutters to prove he was telling the truth.” Crystal took a shaky breath. “After Kenny left, I looked over the cutter he’d brought home. It was tarnished and dented. I figured it was just some junk he found at a flea market. I was so mad, I followed him back to the boarding house.” Crystal shivered and hugged herself. “I found him collecting a bunch of old, dirty cookie cutters. Then I saw the pile of bones in that closet. It creeped me out seeing Kenny pawing through dust for cookie cutters while that skeleton lay there watching him.”

“It’s getting late, Crystal,” Robbie said. “I need to find a safe place for you. I’ll come and get you when . . . when everything blows over.” There was a chill in Robbie’s quiet, rational voice. Olivia shivered.

“Just let me finish explaining, Robbie.” Crystal ran her fingers through her tousled hair. Olivia noticed dark roots had begun to show. “I want them to understand why I . . .” She turned again to Maddie. “I didn’t mean to hit Kenny so hard. He just . . . He could be so
stubborn
, especially when he was caught up in one of his crazy get-rich-quick fantasies. I needed to get away from him and make sure he never came back.”

Olivia glanced sideways at Robbie, expecting him to silence Crystal. He stared at the floor, expressionless.

Crystal grabbed Maddie’s hands. “You understand, don’t
you? I couldn’t take it anymore. Kenny destroyed all my chances at life. He refused to be a responsible husband and father, even though Alicia adored him. I was so angry, I . . .” Crystal broke into sobs and threw herself into Maddie’s arms.

Olivia held her breath and instinctively moved closer to Crystal and Maddie, hoping for safety in numbers. Robbie hadn’t moved. His face gave nothing away.

Over Crystal’s shoulder, Olivia met Maddie’s worried eyes. Olivia thought she heard pounding sounds in the distance. If she and Maddie could keep stalling for time . . .

“We need to leave now, Crystal,” Robbie said. He patted the right pocket of his jeans, where Olivia assumed he carried a weapon . . . perhaps a knife, since his jeans were too snug to conceal even a small caliber gun.

Crystal pulled away from Maddie and wiped at her eyes. “I want you to understand why I . . . Well, I couldn’t take it for one more minute.”

“You were miserable,” Maddie said.

“Yes, yes.” Crystal’s relief was palpable. “Kenny was incapable of being a responsible adult.”

“Didn’t he have a job interview the day he disappeared?” Olivia asked. “Did that fall through, too?”

“Oh . . .” Crystal’s shoulders drooped. “It wasn’t a real job offer, but I can’t blame Kenny for that. The call was just a ruse we used to get Kenny out of the way when we—”

“Crystal.” Robbie sounded like a stern father.

“Well, it was, Robbie. We have to take some responsibility. Kenny only went out drinking that day because he didn’t want to come home and tell me there wasn’t any job interview. He knew I wouldn’t believe him. And then he came back here because he wanted to prove himself to me.”

The pounding down the hall sounded like several bodies heaving themselves against the door.

Crystal lifted her chin and spoke directly to Maddie. “There was a broken board lying on the floor. Some tramp probably meant to burn it. Anyway, I picked it up. Kenny was
lifting something out of the closet to show me. He had his back turned and I . . . I just lost it. I swung that board and hit him hard near his neck. He fell forward, right into the closet. I guess the board was sharp because he was bleeding.” Crystal hugged herself again as tears rolled down her cheeks. “Alicia loved Kenny so much. She’ll never forgive me.”

Olivia’s mind was whirring. Something didn’t feel right. As if she were following an online trail, Olivia flipped through every detail she could remember hearing about Kenny’s death.

A distant sound like cracking wood broke her train of thought. Robbie grabbed Crystal by the arm and yanked her toward the door. “We need to leave now, Crystal.”

“Just one more minute, Robbie.”

“Crystal, I’ve always fixed everything, haven’t I? I can still fix this if we leave
now
.”

“No, Robbie, I already told them. I’m the one who hit Kenny.”

Olivia flashed back to her conversation with Del in Aunt Sadie’s kitchen. Del had mentioned Kenny’s injuries. She couldn’t remember his exact words, but she was nearly certain he’d said Kenny had suffered
two
blows, both in the neck area. One had hit the neck directly, and the other was higher. Olivia was willing to bet that the lower blow had been Crystal’s, which meant it had come first. And then she’d left the scene.

“Wait.” Olivia reached her hand toward Crystal. “Was Kenny alive when you left?”

“He groaned as I went out the door.” Crystal flinched at the memory.

“Did you hit him again?”

“What?! Of course not. I just called—” Another loud crack drowned out Crystal’s voice. But Olivia watched her lips and recognized the name—
Robbie
. Fists began to pound on the door. The board nailed to that door was almost certainly the weapon used to finish off Kenny Vayle.

Out in the hallway, the pounding turned to thuds as one
or more bodies threw their weight against the door. Olivia wasn’t hopeful for a quick rescue. Robbie had done an expert job of securing the board. Olivia remembered her mother mentioning recently, with pleasure, that no one made doors that solid anymore.

Robbie reached into his jeans pocket and produced a penknife, which he opened and handed to Crystal. He whispered in her ear. With a grimace, Crystal took firm hold of Maddie’s left arm from behind and touched the tip of the penknife to her back. “I’m sorry,” she said. Robbie lifted one pants leg to reveal a closed switchblade strapped to his calf with a rag.

Olivia heard a thud as their rescuers hit the door again. The wood inched away from the wall. From behind, Robbie grabbed Olivia’s left upper arm and squeezed hard. She felt nothing against her back, but she knew the closed switchblade was in his right hand. The moment the door flew open, their rescuers could become unwitting killers. Robbie undoubtedly counted on shock for Maddie’s and her welfare to slow their reaction time and allow him, at least, to get away. Olivia felt certain he didn’t expect Crystal to escape. He might love her, in his own twisted way, but he had shown himself more than willing to sacrifice her to save himself.

With Maddie behind her, Olivia couldn’t communicate with her eyes. If she tried to break free before the door opened, would Maddie react quickly enough to save herself? Would Crystal freeze? Or would Robbie simply push the lever on the switchblade and send the knife into her back, then calmly take Crystal’s place behind Maddie? Crystal . . . Crystal was the weak link.

Another thud. The board loosened a bit more. One more blow might do it. There was only one choice. Olivia figured she had nothing to lose. She spun around to her left. She felt her shoulder give, but adrenaline kept her going. As Robbie turned to face her, the switchblade shot open. With her free right hand, Olivia grabbed Robbie’s bare wrist and dug her fingernails into his skin.

Maddie’s strong, shapely leg shot straight up. Her shin caught Robbie under the elbow. Olivia heard a snap. Robbie dropped the switchblade and clutched his elbow.

“Crystal,
do
something,” Robbie cried.

Crystal did something—she dropped her penknife. “Oh, Robbie, you’re hurt.” Crystal wrapped her arms around his chest. In the process, her arm whacked Robbie’s elbow. With a cry of pain, he fainted.

The door burst open. Jack rushed in and bent over Robbie’s prone figure. “Out cold,” Jack said. He left Crystal to sob over the man who was willing to let her take full blame for killing her husband.

Olivia’s mother appeared at her side. “Well,” Ellie said, “all’s well that ends well.”

“You don’t know the half of it.” Olivia pointed toward the penknife and switchblade on the floor. “Those were aimed at our backs while you were breaking through the door.”

“Ah.” Ellie’s cheeks blanched. “I see.”

“Is that a siren I hear?” Olivia asked. “Did you call the police, and if so, how?”

“Jack is so handy. He broke a window so I could lean out. I had to sit on Jack’s shoulders, but I finally got cell phone reception. I called 911.” Ellie glanced across the room, where Jack had tied Robbie’s ankles together with a rag and thoughtfully propped him against the wall. Crystal sat next to him, hugging her legs to her chest. Alicia knelt down and wrapped her arms around her mother. Crystal leaned her head on her daughter’s shoulder.

Del appeared in the open doorway, his service revolver drawn. He took in the scene and lowered his weapon. “Well, well. Apparently, I’m no longer needed here.”

“Del!” Olivia ran to him and threw her arms around his neck.

Del wrapped his free arm around her waist and held tight. “I was on my way back from the crime lab when the
Twiterton police called to tell me about your mom’s 911 call. You gave me quite a scare,” he whispered.

Olivia whispered back, “I won’t tell.” She released him and pointed toward the prisoners, one unconscious and the other exhausted. “Those two are responsible for Kenny Vayle’s death.”

Alicia pulled away from her mother when she heard Olivia’s pronouncement.

“It’s complicated, though,” Olivia said. “I’m reasonably certain that broken board near the door is the murder weapon. You’ll want to test it for blood stains, if that’s possible.”

Del gave her a lopsided grin. “Yes, ma’am.” His eyes darkened. “You sure you’re okay? What about Maddie and Ellie?”

“We’re all fine, Del, really,” Olivia said. “Robbie might have a broken elbow, though. That was Maddie’s work.”

“I’m impressed,” Del said. “I hear sirens heading this way. We’ll want to interview all of you, so don’t leave town.”

“I assume you meant me.” Jack put his arm around Alicia’s shoulders. “Don’t worry, I’ll be sticking around for some time. Alicia needs my support.”

Ellie beamed at Del, whose arm encircled Olivia’s waist. Raising an eyebrow at her mother, Olivia said, “Just so you know, Mom, if you say ‘all’s well that ends well’ again, I’ll have to gag you.”

“Perfectly understandable,
dear.”

On a dreary Saturday afternoon in mid-November, Olivia and Maddie sprawled on a forest green velvet settee in the front parlor of the Chatterley Mansion. Spunky snuggled on Olivia’s lap. Her mother, Ellie, her eyes closed, sat cross-legged on the rose velvet seat of a small parlor chair. Her ramrod straight spine barely touched the padded back.

“This is the life.” Maddie stretched her stocking feet toward a crackling fire.

Aunt Sadie sat in her wheelchair, her knitting on her lap. While she watched the flames frolic among the logs, her fingers looped raspberry red yarn over and around the needles as if they needed no guidance.

“On the other hand,” Maddie said, “being a Chatterley wife doesn’t sound like fun to me. Most of them didn’t even get to decorate their own cookies.”

“Plus they were married to Chatterley men,” Olivia said.

Ellie’s eyes opened. “I hear Del and Lucas banging around up in the attic. I do hope they don’t knock a hole in the wall when they turn that corner in the staircase.”

“I’ve had my fill of holes in walls,” Maddie said. “Speaking of which . . . Ellie, is Lenora still pestering you about turning your craft school into a theater?”

With a tolerant smile, Ellie said, “Yes, dear, of course she is. However, I’ve decided to use dear Lenora’s enthusiasm as a way to, shall we say, guide her toward sobriety.”

“Exactly how does that work, Mom?”

With an impish grin, Ellie said, “I have promised Lenora the opportunity to teach a small acting class. Calliope is designing an intimate stage for the class. Herbie and Gwen are thrilled.”

“But how exactly will teaching keep Lenora sober?” Maddie asked.

“I’m not promising a miracle.” Ellie rolled her shoulders back to achieve perfect posture. “But we will try to keep Lenora well-nourished and busy, happily doing what she loves . . . with subtle oversight, of course. And did I mention our no-alcohol policy? Calliope will be enforcing that rule.”

“That should do the trick,” Olivia said. “Well, we’ll still have Binnie to torture us day and night.”

“Not to worry, Livie, dear. I believe I’ve taken care of that little problem as well.” Ellie’s smile seemed—to Olivia, at least—a bit smug. “In a week or so, Ned will be returning to Chatterley Heights to stay. Her special friend will be coming with her.”

“I see,” Olivia said. “That’s sort of a good news, bad news thing, isn’t it? Do you know anything about this special friend?”

“I didn’t pry, dear. It will be what it will be.”

“We are doomed,” Maddie said, rolling her eyes toward the ceiling.

The sound of grunting announced Del and Lucas’s arrival. Between them, they carted a small, though clearly heavy leather trunk. “Where do you want this thing?” Del asked.

“Over here between Maddie and me,” Olivia said. “We’ll dig through the diaries and try to find the ones Aunt Sadie needs. Do you have the list, Maddie?” Maddie produced a folded paper from her jeans pocket and handed it to her.

“I’m so excited, I won’t be able to concentrate on knitting.” Aunt Sadie’s needles kept on clicking.

Lucas waved good-bye as he left to return to his hardware store, and Del moved a carved walnut rocking chair next to Olivia’s end of the settee.

“I can’t wait another second.” Maddie opened the lid of the unlocked trunk. It was filled to the rim with leather-bound diaries in a variety of shapes, sizes, and colors. “Wow, those Chatterley women were prolific. Either that, or they needed to unload a lot about their husbands. Hand me the list, Livie. It’ll be more efficient if I do this alone. This will take a while, so feel free to talk among yourselves.” Maddie lifted a journal from the open chest. “And by that, I mean you, Del. I want a blow-by-blow account of your investigation. We deserve that after all we went through to capture your suspects for you.”

“Yeah, like my dislocated shoulder.” Olivia rubbed the injury she’d sustained while dodging Robbie’s switchblade. “You’ve been way too closed-mouthed about Kenny Vayle’s murder investigation since you arrested Crystal and Robbie. You owe us.”

“And if I don’t pay up, you’ll hold it against me forever, right?” A corner of Del’s mouth quivered as he stifled a smile. “Okay, as it happens, Crystal, at least, has finally begun to weaken after two weeks of stonewalling. They blame each other, or Kurt, for Kenny’s death. Mind you, Kurt isn’t entirely blameless. Once her father’s remains were discovered, Alicia became suspicious of Robbie, so he wanted her gone.”

“How did Kurt fit in?” Olivia asked. “Robbie wanted an excuse to kick Alicia out of the house, so she wouldn’t hear or observe something that pointed to Robbie’s guilt, right? Is that how Kurt fits in?”

Del nodded. “Crystal told us Robbie hoped to portray Alicia as unstable. That’s why he visited your store. To further his plan, Robbie told Kurt a lie about Pete’s intentions toward Alicia. He hoped Kurt would react violently and that Alicia, in turn, would react hysterically. He also supplied
Kurt with an array of his favorite weapons. When Pete fired Alicia, it fit right into Robbie’s scheme.”

“Switchblades,” Olivia said. “Scary. Did Robbie consider the possibility that Alicia might have been hurt?”

Del shook his head. “Robbie didn’t care. He was more concerned with protecting himself. He’d already convinced Crystal that she was solely responsible for her husband’s death. He hoped she would confess if the remains were ever discovered. He hung on to the murder weapon without Crystal’s knowledge, thinking it might come in handy as further evidence against her.”

Ellie shivered. “What a horribly controlling man.”

“Robbie hadn’t read enough murder mysteries,” Olivia said, “or he’d have known more about forensics. But I suppose he was arrogant enough to think he already knew everything.”

“Well, Robbie still hasn’t confessed,” Del said, “but the forensics will get him when he goes to trial. Crystal is convinced she killed Kenny with one blow. She didn’t even try to make it sound like an accident. However, the blow that struck Kenny’s neck didn’t kill him. He’d have fallen to the floor, head first, probably knocked unconscious. Crystal thought he was dead or about to die. By her own admission, she didn’t think to check his pulse. She just ran to find Robbie.”

“And Robbie took care of everything?” Olivia asked. “Just like he always did?”

“That’s our conclusion,” Del said. “The second blow was higher and broke Kenny’s neck.”

Olivia thought back to Crystal’s tearful confession. “I suppose Robbie might continue to stonewall, but it seemed clear to me that Crystal hit Kenny only once, and she believed she’d killed him. She seemed genuinely shocked and confused when I asked if she hit him a second time. Robbie was cool and controlling, as always.”

“So very sad,” Ellie said. “Crystal never learned to stand up for herself, so she became prey for men like Robbie.”

“I’m confused by one thing,” Olivia said. “We ran up to room seven when we heard a crash. When we arrived, we realized that Robbie had smashed a hole in the wall right where he’d hidden the murder weapon. Why would he do that?”

“Interesting question.” Del chuckled. “Naturally, Robbie told us he’d had no idea the board was behind that wall.”

“I wonder . . .” Ellie tilted her head like a curious bird. “Lenora can be so single-minded, you know.”

“Okay, Mom, so that means . . . what, exactly?”

“Oh, Livie, dear, I was remembering you as a toddler. You wanted to taste everything, which kept your father and me on our toes. One day your father was making a mustard and cheese sandwich when he saw that you were about to taste a toothpick you had found on the kitchen floor. He quickly put a spoonful of mustard in your little open mouth, while he snatched the toothpick from your hand. So clever of him.”

“That explains why I’m not fond of mustard,” Olivia said. “Now back to Robbie and the hole in the wall . . . ?

Maddie looked up from her perusal of a diary. “Oh, I get it,” she said. “Robbie wanted to distract Lenora from pounding her little hammer into that part of the wall. Maybe he also hoped to cover the murder weapon with plaster to make it less visible.”

Del shrugged. “It’s a working hypothesis, anyway.”

Maddie plunked a stack of four journals on the coffee table. “Fascinating as our discussion has been, are we ready to move on? Because these are the journals on Aunt Sadie’s list, and I can’t wait to see what they have to say about those antique cookie cutters.”

The fire had begun to die down. Aunt Sadie pulled her sweater more tightly around herself, and said, “Maddie, dear, would you read the passages to us? My eyesight is not what it used to be.”

Del hopped up to add another log to the fire. Olivia smiled her thanks as he returned to his chair.

“This will be fun.” Maddie picked up a journal with a tan
leather cover and opened to a page she had marked with a scrap of paper. “Okay, this was written by Charlotte Chatterley in 1859. That three-petaled flower cookie cutter was hers. Charlotte wrote,
My new little girls are the delights of my life. They are healthy and beautiful, with strong lungs and lovely curls. I am thankful I did not contribute three more Chatterley sons to the world. I must teach my innocent little daughters to be careful whom they marry.
Should I read more?” Maddie asked.

“Thank you, Maddie.” Aunt Sadie sighed. “That passage says enough, I think. You see, Charlotte’s husband already had a mistress when he married, and he saw no reason to change afterward. Those little curly-haired girls gave Charlotte three good reasons to go on.”

“Next,” Maddie said, opening a journal with a black cover. “This one was written in 1833 and belonged to Harriet Chatterley. I don’t remember anything about her.”

“Oh yes, Harriet,” Aunt Sadie said. “She was one of several Chatterley wives whose journals mentioned the little boy and girl cookie cutters whose hands interlock. Such a lovely image. Do read us the passage, Maddie.”

Maddie opened the journal and began to read. “
I
wish my dear mother-in-law had buried those hand-holding cookie cutters in the garden instead of passing them to me. Now I must give them to my lovely daughter-in-law, who deserves someone better than my first-born son. I shall try to help her through the difficult years to come.
” Maddie closed the journal. “That was disturbing. Any idea what happened to that lovely daughter-in-law, Aunt Sadie?”

“I’m afraid she died giving birth to a son. I suspect her husband shed no tears. As I remember, he quickly replaced her.” Aunt Sadie blinked rapidly, fighting tears of her own.

Picking up the third journal, Maddie opened to a passage which she skimmed quickly. “This one is powerful,” she said. “It was written in 1805, by Caroline Chatterley.
I have asked the tinsmith to create a cookie cutter to my specifications. I did not tell him why I wanted such a shape, but when
he met my husband, I believe he understood. It will be a secret to which only we Chatterley wives will be privy, and our hearts will be lighter for it.”
Maddie closed the journal. Grinning, she said, “I think we can all agree that Caroline commissioned the portly pig cutter.”

No one spoke as Maddie picked up the fourth journal. She held it up so everyone could see the intricate flowers, embroidered in shades of purple, clustered on dark green vines that curled around the surface of the pale green cloth cover. “Isn’t this journal gorgeous? It belonged to Abigail Chatterley. Oh, I remember now. Aunt Sadie, didn’t you mention that Abigail did free-form embroidery? She was Horace’s mother, right?”

“Yes, indeed,” Aunt Sadie said. “Poor Abigail was a sensitive soul. Her journals are filled with bits of her own poetry. I must ask Lucas to look in the attic for a trunk filled with her embroidery. Oh, I do go on, don’t I? Please read her words to us, Maddie.”

Maddie silently skimmed the page. “Abigail is the one who commissioned that odd cookie cutter with the geometric design. None of us could figure out what it was supposed to represent.” Maddie turned the page. “Here’s Abigail’s drawing, too. My, my, she certainly wrote some scathing comments about her own son, Horace. Listen to this:
Recent stories of my son’s appalling behavior have so saddened my heart. If only Horace were more like his dear father, may he rest in eternal peace. Horace has a good and loyal wife at home, and children who need a better example. Though perhaps they are better off without his presence. Their mother, bless her, does her best, and I help when I can with food and clothing. All this while Horace lavishes gifts on other women. May God forgive me, I often wish it had been my son taken from me by influenza, rather than his kind and loving father.”

Maddie had finished all the diary readings. No one spoke for some time. Olivia watched the dying fire, letting the words of four Chatterley wives meld together in her mind. As the last log turned to ash, she said, “I sense a theme in those passages.”

“Yeah,” Maddie said. “Being a Chatterley wife wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.”

“That could be said of many wealthy families.” Ellie rolled back her shoulders to restore her posture. “And of less well-to-do ones, too. Sadly, it is nothing new.”