One Dead Cookie (21 page)

“A bit,” Olivia said. But Maddie wasn’t listening. She’d already begun to pound out
an email to Jennifer.

*   *   *

O
livia, Maddie, Spunky, and a box of cookies arrived at the Greyson home by early evening.
Both Olivia and Maddie had decided to shower and change, assuming that hugs would
be forthcoming. When Olivia rang the doorbell, the living room curtain twitched. “I
think Mom is having flashbacks again,” she said. The front door opened a sliver, enough
for Ellie’s slender arm to shoot out, clutch her daughter’s sleeve, and yank her into
the house.

Ellie poked her head outside and hissed, “Make it snappy, Maddie. They are out there,
I can feel it.” Maddie barely made it inside before Ellie slammed the door.

“Wow,” Olivia said, “you sixties types are paranoid.” She noted that her mother had
dressed for the occasion in a rainbow-colored, tie-dyed blouse and long, matching
skirt that Olivia remembered seeing when, as a child, she had hidden in the back of
her mother’s closet. Olivia felt a prick of envy about how well the outfit still fit.

Ellie reverted to her yoga-centered self and said, “Nonsense, Livie, dear. It isn’t
paranoia when the danger is real.” Ellie pried the box of cookies from Maddie’s stunned
grasp. “Good, you brought sustenance. We will need it. Now, hugs all around, and then
let’s get to work.”

Ellie led the way to her husband’s home office at the rear of the house. The room
had once been Olivia’s ornithologist father’s office, where he had spent days and
evenings bringing bird behavior to life on the page. His charming, lively books became
minor bestsellers and provided a comfortable, though not lavish, lifestyle for the
Greyson family. At least they had not been left destitute when he died in his late
forties.

When Ellie ushered the group into Allan’s office, Olivia felt as if she’d walked into
a spy novel. With the blinds closed and only the computer screen for light, the room’s
inhabitants were hard to recognize at first. As her eyes adjusted, Olivia recognized
Stacey Harald, seated in Allan’s guest chair, with her teenage son and daughter next
to her, cross-legged on the rug.

“Livie and Maddie,” Stacey said in her rich alto voice. “It’s about time.” She joined
her old friends, looping an arm around each of them. “The Three Mooseketeers, together
again.”

Olivia grinned at the confused look on her stepfather’s face. “We three go back to
elementary school, Allan.”

“Yes, well, I hope the other students didn’t call you mooseketeers,” Allan said. “Or
if they did, I hope you punched a few of their noses.”

With her gentle laugh, Ellie said, “Now Allan, violence wasn’t necessary. In high
school, all three girls sprouted up at the same time. They took a while to—shall we
say, ‘even out?’—so their legs were unusually long and slender.”

“Oh,” Allan said. “So it wasn’t an insult?” He looked so perplexed that everyone laughed.

“It’s okay, dear,” Ellie said. “We are laughing for you, not at you. You see, sometimes
it is wiser to turn an insult into a joke.”

“Ah,” Allan said. “Well, then, let’s get to work. I’ve taken the liberty of jotting
down a few ideas to help guide us through this troubling situation.” He handed around
some typed pages from his computer.

“Allan, dear, this isn’t a business plan,” Ellie said.

“Wait, Mom. Plans are good,” Olivia said as she scanned Allan’s list. “There are some
good ideas here. Although I suspect Del might object to the part about emailing us
a daily report about the investigation.”

“Well, I was assuming that Del, being the sheriff, would be the one to find the real
murderer,” Allan said. “That is, after all, his job.”

“Dear, sweet Allan,” Ellie said. She opened the cake pan filled with the last of the
frozen cookies Maddie had prepared to serve at The Gingerbread House. They were simple
round cookies, all decorated quickly with leftover icing. “Have a cookie, dear.”

Allan accepted his demotion with good humor, took a cookie, and passed the pan to
Stacey.

“So,” Ellie said. “I am game for anything. Livie, Maddie—you have experience with
these situations. What would you like me to do? Infiltrate the police department?”

Stacey’s thirteen-year-old daughter, Rachel, snickered. She stopped at once when her
mother glanced at her with dangerously slitted eyes.

“Mom, you and Allan are doing a great job of protecting Stacey and her kids from the
paparazzi. Keep it up.”

“Ellie, Allan,” Stacey said, “we don’t want to put you in a tough situation. We’ll
have to emerge at some point.”

“Only when you are good and ready,” Ellie said. “Meanwhile, you can count on us to
scare off those vultures. I would feel better, though, if I could do something more
active.”

“There’s one thing you could do, Mom. You could bake some cookies for us to offer
at the store. We’ll have to open again tomorrow, and we’ve run through all our extra
cookies, ingredients, and time. Any type of cookie will do. Drop cookies would be
fine. We’ll need only about half a batch, so Rachel and Tyler could eat the rest,
assuming they help you with the baking.”

Rachel looked mildly interested, but Tyler said, “I’d rather just eat the extras.”

“I’m sure you would, Tyler,” his mother said, “but that won’t happen. If Rachel is
the only helper, she gets the extra cookies.”

Rachel stuck out her tongue at her brother. Tyler made a face at his sister, and said,
“Okay, fine, whatever.” Stacey smirked, and Ellie winked at Stacey. For a moment,
Olivia felt left out of the Mothers Club. Well, at least she and Maddie could try
to prevent Wade Harald from being wrongly convicted of Trevor Lane’s murder…unless,
that is, their friend Stacey’s husband, the father of her children, was a killer.

“Stacey, could I have a word with you before Maddie and I take off?”

Stacey’s eyes widened, though her kids didn’t seem alarmed by the question. “Sure,”
Stacey said. “Tyler, Rachel, you two start winnowing down that pile of homework. You
can help Ellie bake after you’ve finished.”

Tyler groaned. “But, Mom—”

“Right now.”

The teenagers shuffled off toward the bedrooms that used to belong to Olivia and Jason.
Ellie had handed the box of cookies to Stacey as she followed her kids into the hallway.
“There’s coffee in the carafe,” Ellie called after Stacey as she headed toward the
kitchen.

Maddie stifled a yawn. Olivia pulled her aside, and said quietly, “Maybe you should
go home and get some rest. You have a big day coming up very soon.”

“Not a chance.”

“Please?”

“You want to question Stacey alone, don’t you?” Maddie sounded miffed.

“I’m afraid two of us might feel intimidating.”

“Well…Jennifer did promise to deliver our baking supplies tonight, so we could bake
first thing in the morning. I might be able to start another batch of cookie dough.”

After Maddie left, Olivia went to the kitchen, hoping to find Stacey. When she flipped
on the kitchen light, Olivia found her friend hunched over the table, cradling her
face in her hands. Olivia poured two cups of coffee and sat down across from her.

Stacey slumped back in her chair. “I know what you’re going to ask me. You want to
know if I think Wade might actually have killed Trevor Lane. The answer is, I don’t
know for sure. How could I? Wade is a gentle guy at heart. He gets argumentative when
he drinks, and I hate that, but he has never, ever raised a hand toward me or the
kids. Sometimes I’ve been afraid he would, but he hasn’t.” Stacey sipped her coffee
and shook her head. “Usually, he starts to cry. I guess that’s pathetic, but it sure
isn’t violent.”

“Thanks, Stacey, that’s helpful,” Olivia said, although she knew it wouldn’t save
Wade from a murder charge.

Stacey ran her fingers through her tousled blond waves. Her fingernails looked bitten
to the quick, and brown roots showed along her hairline. Olivia felt a wave of concern
for her tough childhood friend. In high school, Stacey had been an anchor for Olivia
as she coped with the death of her father. That she was tall, willowy, and gorgeous
had
never spoiled Stacey’s down-to-earth nature. She’d come from poverty, which she’d
been determined to escape. And she had. Stacey was smart and focused. She had worked
her way through junior college, landed a job as a secretary at Chatterley Heights
Elementary, and had quickly risen to office manager.

Olivia didn’t waste time treading softly. “Stacey, is there a reason why Wade started
drinking again?”

Stacey opened the box of cookies and selected a bunny rabbit with pink stripes and
a purple mustache. Sounding, for a moment, more like herself, she said, “My, you’re
a fine-looking fellow,” and bit off an ear.

Understanding her friend’s need to gather her thoughts, Olivia excused herself to
search for two small plates in her mother’s frequently reorganized cupboards. In a
drawer, she found two cloth napkins.

By the time Olivia returned to the table, Stacey had finished consuming both bunny
ears and the fluffy tail. “We’re on the verge of bankruptcy,” Stacey said. “We could
lose the house. Wade feels responsible, and he should.”

“I thought you got the house in the divorce settlement,” Olivia said.

“I did, and I refinanced to get the payments down to what I could handle from my own
salary. I didn’t really trust Wade to stay sober and employed. He was paying child
support, though, and we needed that. Still, the kids and I were doing okay, even after
this recession hit. We cut back, the kids pitched in…. They both got little jobs like
babysitting and lawn mowing. Then Wade did something stupid. For the right reasons,
of course, but still…He hated that Rachel had to quit ballet, and Tyler would miss
out on sports, so he started paying for all that himself. I guess it made him feel
good, so he bought them clothes and
new bikes and so on. He kept telling me his boss was giving him raises. Only she wasn’t.
He was maxing out his one credit card. You can guess the rest.” Stacey bit off her
bunny’s head.

“Wade sank underwater, his debt compounded, and he started drinking again?” Olivia’s
own stomach tightened as she imagined how that would feel. She still owed a hefty
chunk on the mortgage for her Queen Anne, as well as on a business loan. At least
she had savings, thanks to a surprise inheritance from her friend, Clarisse Chamberlain.

Olivia picked out a daisy-shaped cookie and nibbled on its teal petal. Decorated cookies
always had a calming effect on her. She reached across the table to squeeze her friend’s
arm. “Stacey, if I’m to help, I need to understand the history between Wade and Trevor
Lane. Wade went to Chatterley Heights High, so how did he and Trevor know each other?”

“There’s more to Wade than meets the eye,” Stacey said. “I divorced him for good reason,
but he wasn’t always a drunk. I don’t know if you remember, but in high school Wade
was an amazing athlete. He was short and skinny, but that didn’t matter one bit. You
should have seen Wade run across that field. Boy, was he fast. Nobody could catch
him once he got going. He’d catch that ball so quick, take off running, and he’d make
a touchdown before the other players could focus their eyes.” Stacey smiled at the
memory.

Olivia felt saddened by the love and admiration in Stacey’s voice, all for the man
who had let her down. Wade had squandered that devotion. Yet he’d done so with the
intention of providing for his family. Olivia reached for another cookie and steeled
herself to drag out yet more painful information.

“Well,” Stacey said, “that’s about enough wallowing for
one day. Wade may be a screwup, but he’s the father of my children, so I’m inclined
to help save his scrawny neck. I don’t trust the police, not even Sheriff Del. So
it’s you and Maddie and me. Now, what do you need to know?”

“The Three Mooseketeers,” Olivia said with a smile. “I need to understand why the
police think Wade killed Trevor. Can you think of a motive?”

“Oh yes, I most certainly can,” Stacey said, shaking her head. “Good old Trevor Lane.
There was a man asking to be murdered, even in high school.” Stacey leaned her elbows
on the table, ready to work. “Like I was saying, Wade was a wonder on the football
field, despite his size. His teammates loved to watch the opposing players underestimate
him. After a while, of course, other teams caught on. This was high school football,
so the same teams played each other every year. Wade made quite an impression his
first year, and the next year the coach made him quarterback.”

“When was this?” Olivia asked. “As you probably remember, I wasn’t much of a sports
fan. I can barely make it across the room without tripping over my own feet…as my
mother keeps pointing out to me.”

“Many of us have noticed that endearing trait,” Stacey said. “Wade became a quarterback
in the fall of our freshman year. He was a junior.”

“So Trevor Lane and Dougie Adair were about the same age as Wade?”

“Yep,” Stacey said. “All three were juniors. Trevor and Dougie played on the Twiterton
football team. Trevor was their quarterback. A very popular quarterback, I might add.
At least, that’s what Wade told me at the time. When the two teams played each other
the year before, Wade was playing defense, and he did some fancy move, the name of
which I’ve forgotten. Trevor got distracted by it and fumbled the ball. Boy, did he
make a stink about that trick, even threatened to kill Wade, but the ref let it go.
Wade was really looking forward to a repeat humiliation.”

“Uh-oh,” Olivia said. “Trevor Lane was not one to take humiliation lightly.”

“No kidding.” Stacey’s eyes strayed to the cookie box, but she resisted. “Trevor certainly
took his revenge on Wade. It altered the course of Wade’s life and foretold his future.
I should have seen it coming…. If I had, I might not have married the poor guy.”

“Do you wish you hadn’t married him?” Olivia asked.

“Not for a minute. Rachel and Tyler are great kids. I can’t imagine life without them.
Wade and I had some good years, and I’m grateful for those, too. However, things are
what they are, and I have to protect my kids. Wade knows I won’t let them spend time
with him if he’s been drinking. Up until lately, he’s been careful.”