One Dead Cookie (32 page)

Olivia felt a prick of irritation. Was Dougie reminiscing so she would give up and
leave him alone? Hoping to get a reaction, she said, “It sounds like Trevor might
have fit in at school better than you did.”

Dougie hesitated, as if he were giving her suggestion serious thought. “Funny thing
is, he didn’t fit in well at all, not really. Trevor was Trevor, always and forever.
He wasn’t chronically nasty on purpose; he just didn’t know how to be anything else.
I’m not saying Trevor wasn’t one of the popular kids. Girls went crazy over him, other
boys wanted to hang out with him…. He could turn on the charm when he wanted, but
it didn’t take long to realize that if Trevor
bothered to be charming it was because he wanted something. If you were unlucky enough
to become what he called a friend, he dropped the facade. Everyone saw through him,
anyway. Trevor wasn’t a complex character. He knew how to embarrass another student
in public, but he didn’t have the follow-through to, say, blackmail someone.”

“Doesn’t sound like Trevor was much fun to be around,” Olivia said. “Why did you put
up with him all those years?”

“It was a living,” Dougie said as he shrugged one muscular shoulder. “I’m afraid I
can’t think of anyone from Trevor’s distant past who would go to the bother of killing
him. Including me.”

“What about Howie Upton?” Olivia said.

“Howie?” Dougie sounded genuinely surprised. Maybe even hopeful? “Have the police
been questioning him, too?”

“I really don’t know,” Olivia said. “That night in the band shell, Trevor was quite
hard on Howie, and Howie didn’t take it well. I wondered if there was bad blood between
them. Perhaps, in the past, Trevor did or said something that Howie couldn’t simply
laugh off?”

Dougie watched a determined English sheepdog herd an errant sheep back toward the
others. “I’m envious of Gwen and Herbie. I could write in a place like this. On the
other hand, the animals would eventually starve,” he said. “About Howie. Back in high
school, I probably wasn’t as sensitive as I should have been, and good old Trevor
was but a younger version of the man he became. Howie and Trevor were dueling egos.
Howie was probably the smartest kid ever to grace the halls of Twiterton High, and
he knew it. He was a genius when it came to anything involving numbers. We were in
the same calculus class. Howie would correct the teacher, and he’d be right every
time.”

“Was Howie arrogant about his superior talents?” Olivia asked.

“There should be a stronger word than ‘arrogant.’ Even the teachers disliked him,
although they predicted a great future for him. Now, if Howie had looked and sounded
like Trevor, high school would have gone much better for him, but he was pudgy and
whiny. The girls sneered at him. Boys beat him up. It was sad…or it would have been
if Howie had possessed even one appealing personal quality.”

“In the band shell,” Olivia said, “you were kind to Howie when Trevor insulted him.”

“Not out of sympathy for Howie, believe me. I was just doing my job. When Trevor went
out of bounds, I was to pull him back and remind him that he had an image to sustain.
That evening it didn’t work. Howie was one of Trevor’s preferred whipping boys.”

“Really? Why?”

“Howie was so easy to pick on. Trevor couldn’t resist. I have to admit, I wasn’t fond
of Howie, either, so I wasn’t really exerting myself much in his defense.”

As Dougie watched the sheep graze, Olivia studied his profile for hints to his mood.
He gave little away. Olivia found herself more curious than ever about this articulate
man with the face and body of a fighter.

Dougie reached into the pocket of his flannel shirt and drew out two bone-shaped dog
treats, like Spunky’s, only bigger. When Dougie whistled, the sheepdog abandoned his
post and galumphed across the pasture toward him. “Good boy,” Dougie said. “You’ve
been working hard. You need sustenance.” He tossed the treat over the dog’s head.
Apparently used to the game, the sheepdog had already determined the treat’s trajectory
and found it with no difficulty.

An unexpected thought flashed through Olivia’s mind:
Are these displays of kindness for my benefit?
As if he’d sensed her doubt, Dougie said, “I frequently prefer animals to people.
Animals hunt because they are hungry.” He raised his arm to throw another treat to
the sheepdog.

“I suppose there are many types of hunger,” Olivia said.

Dougie’s arm dropped to his side, the second dog treat still in his hand. “You really
should stay out of this, Livie.”

“My friend is implicated in a murder she didn’t commit. I’ll do whatever I have to
do.”

“Trevor had many enemies, some of them as ruthless as he was.” Dougie focused those
translucent, impenetrable eyes on Olivia’s face. “I’m going to tell you something
about Trevor and hope it will serve as a warning to you. It involves me, as well.
I’m certain the police know already, so it won’t be a secret for long.” Dougie turned
to gaze at the pasture. The sheepdog trotted over to him, hoping for another snack.
Dougie threw the dog-bone treat in the air. The dog caught it in his mouth, wagged
a thank-you, and ran toward a wandering sheep.

“Given your reputation,” Dougie said, “I’m guessing you already know part of my story.
I was once married, for a short time, to a sweet and talented young poet. I loved
her deeply, but she wasn’t very stable. She suffered severe bouts of depression. Pills
didn’t help, and sometimes my presence seemed to worsen the condition, especially
when I was consumed by my own writing. So I began to take trips away from home, during
which I lived in cheap motels and wrote plays. I thought I was helping. In fact, she
became resentful, as if I were abandoning her. She began to have affairs. Her last
affair was with Trevor. He was doing mostly commercials at the time. While I was gone,
Trevor would fly to New York to stay with my wife. Then
he tired of her. He broke off with her by never communicating with her again.”

“And then she killed herself,” Olivia said.

“I thought you might have learned about that,” Dougie said. “Yes, she killed herself.
I found her when I returned from one of my writing holidays.”

Or writing escapes?
Olivia could imagine how Dougie’s helpful absence might have felt more like desertion
to his wife.

Dougie leaned against the fence and stared down at the grass. “Trevor was self-obsessed
and cruel. His brutal treatment of Anna is only one example. He assumed others existed
to fill his needs. I could name fifty people who are angry enough to have murdered
Trevor and mutilated his body. Some of them might attend Maddie’s engagement party
tomorrow.”

Including you
. The bright sunlight couldn’t stop the chill that went through Olivia as she considered
how many of Maddie and Lucas’s guests might have known and despised Trevor Lane. Would
one of them turn out to be his killer?

The Gingerbread House kitchen qualified for disaster status, but Olivia and Maddie
had finished, in record time, a rose-petal cookie cake and many dozens of garden-themed
lavender-lemon decorated cookies. Only their fragrances lingered in the kitchen. Lucas
and several Heights Hardware employees had carted the goodies to the Bon Vivant garden
to join the dozens of wedding-theme cookies they’d delivered earlier.

“Maddie, stop fidgeting.” A tiny pearl button slipped from Olivia’s grasp as she tried
to push it through a loop. She leaned her hip against the kitchen counter to steady
herself. “There must be a million of these little buttons. No wonder Aunt Sadie’s
eyes bothered her while she was making your dress.”

“You must admit, it’s the most gorgeous wedding dress ever created. And I get to wear
it twice! First, to my engagement party, where it will be seen and admired by scads
of
people, and then to my quiet, little wedding. I hope no one spills wine on it today.”
Maddie hugged herself with happiness.

“Now you’re making it even harder to button.”

“Oops, sorry,” Maddie said. “I need to calm and center myself, as your mother would
say. You know what would calm and center me? We should discuss our investigative strategy
for this afternoon.”

“Our strategy is to relax, have fun, and keep the cookies flowing.” Olivia slipped
another button through its loop. “Just half a million to go,” she said.

“Livie, everybody will be at the engagement party; it’s the perfect time to unmask
the murderer. Tomorrow, everyone will scatter.”

“You’re right: your dress is stunning, one of a kind, priceless. Aunt Sadie risked
her fragile eyesight to design and create it for you, her beloved niece and adoptive
daughter. She slaved over it day and—”

“I get it, Livie, I get it. If I chase down and subdue a killer, I might get my dress
dirty.”

Olivia buttoned the last button and spun Maddie around to face her. “
Dirty
? Your lovely dress might be torn to shreds.”

Maddie let out a sigh worthy of a spoiled teenager. “Okay, fine. You’re right. But
has Del figured out who killed Trevor, or is he going to railroad poor, dumb Wade?
What’ll happen to Stacey and the kids?”

“Del gave me a quick call this morning to assure me he is covering all the bases.”

“But Livie, what bases is he covering, and are they the right ones?” A spiral of red
hair plopped onto Maddie’s nose. “I knew this hairdo was a mistake. Hang on, I’ll
get the mirror.” She picked up her long skirt, sprinted to the tiny kitchen bathroom,
and returned with the small mirror
Olivia had hung from a nail. “Hold this up for me.” Maddie grimaced at her reflection.
“This might take a while,” she said as she ripped pins from her hair. Curls cascaded
nearly to her shoulders and across her face.

“Anybody home under there?” Olivia asked as she pushed the curls away from Maddie’s
face.

“Oh sure, go ahead and mock.” Maddie sounded distinctly irritable. “This is what always
happens when I try to look glamorous.” She pawed through the kitchen junk drawer until
she found a piece of twine. “This will have to do, since I can’t find any of those
thick rubber bands in vivid colors.”

“I bought a whole bag of them only a week ago,” Olivia said. “Hang on, something is
making this drawer stick.” She reached her hand toward the back of the drawer, where
she felt a soft package. “I’ll bet this is the bag of bands,” Olivia grasped ahold
of the package and pulled. She felt the bag stretch, but it remained stuck, as did
the drawer.

“Here, let me. A little muscle ought to do it.” Maddie yanked the drawer pull with
the strength and impatience of a frazzled bride-to-be with disastrous hair. The drawer
broke free and exploded from its cavity. The contents flew in all directions. “There,”
Maddie said. “I feel much better now.”

Olivia began to gather up the detritus. “It was time to clean the junk drawer, anyway.”
She scooped up a small paper bag. “What’s this?”

“My guess is, it’s junk,” Maddie said. “It doesn’t look familiar, though. Open it.”

Olivia reached inside the bag and withdrew a paper towel wrapped around a light object.
She opened the towel.

“What is it?” Maddie asked. “Livie? What’s wrong?”

Olivia held out her hand. A cookie cutter nestled in the crinkly paper towel.

“Geez.” Maddie reached for the cutter. “That sure looks like a gavel.”

“Don’t touch it.” Olivia jerked her hand back, out of reach.

“But how did it get here? At least one of us has been in this kitchen almost nonstop
since before Trevor…”

“The operative word is ‘almost.’ I can think of numerous times when the kitchen was
empty. In fact, when Jennifer dropped off all the baking supplies we needed, she used
your key to the store.”

“Are you sure it’s
the
gavel cutter?” Maddie asked. “How do we know it isn’t another plant, like the one
in Stacey’s dishwasher?”

“We don’t know for sure. We’ll have to wait until it goes through forensics.” Olivia
used the kitchen phone to call Del. When the call went to voice mail, she said, “Hi,
Del. Maddie and I are about to leave for the party, but I’ve got something important
to tell you. We just found another gavel cookie cutter, this time in the Gingerbread
House kitchen. Call me.”

“Should we drop it off at the police department?” Maddie asked.

“Let’s give Del some time to—” Olivia’s cell rang. She flipped it open and said, “What
a coincidence. Hi, Del. I was just…Okay, we’ll wait for you. He’ll be here in a few
minutes,” she said as she hung up.

Olivia rewrapped the gavel cutter in its paper towel. She placed it on the counter,
out of Maddie’s line of sight, and pulled a chair next to her friend. “I’m sorry,
Maddie,” Olivia said.

Maddie started, as if her thoughts had carried her far away. “What?”

“I said, I’m sorry this had to happen today, of all days.”

“Don’t be silly, Livie. I’m envisioning the wonderful stories I could tell my children
about how their mother caught a killer at Mommy and Daddy’s engagement party.”