When the Cookie Crumbles (19 page)

Struggling to catch her breath, Hermione Chatterley opened the heavy front door of Chatterley Mansion after five rings. “Oh how…how lovely,” Hermione said when she saw Olivia and Maddie on the front stoop. “And your little dog, too!”

Maddie giggled at Hermione’s repetition of a line from
The Wizard of Oz
. Olivia tried to envision Hermione Chatterley as a wicked witch. The best image she could come up with was a plump version of the gingerbread house witch in the Brothers Grimm fairy tale, “Hansel and Gretel.”

“Do come in and visit,” Hermione said, holding the door wide. “Oh, and you’ve brought cookies, how lovely. I’m so glad your friend has come, too. Maddie, is it? My memory isn’t what it once was, I’m afraid, but I do remember we met in The Gingerbread House. My poor Paine so enjoyed your cookies.” Hermione kept up her prattle as she led her guests down the hallway and into the front parlor.

“I was just about to make tea,” Hermione said. “I’ll see if I can find a treat for the little one.” She gave Spunky a light pat on the head. Spunky perked his ears at the word “treat.”

“We’d be delighted to help,” Olivia said as Hermione paused for several deep breaths.

“Now you stay right here and make yourselves comfortable,” Hermione said. “I’ll put these cookies on a plate, and we can have a proper tea.” Her shoulders heaving, she plodded toward the kitchen. Olivia remembered her first visit, when Hermione’s gait had been brisk and lively. Either grief had weakened her condition or…“I wonder if she’s having as much trouble breathing as she seems to be,” Olivia murmured.

Maddie jumped up and peeked into the hallway.

“What are you doing?” Olivia said, louder than she’d intended.

“It’s okay, she’s out of earshot,” Maddie said in a low voice. “Aren’t you planning to search the room or something? Come on, let’s get cracking.”

“Honestly, I can’t take you anywhere.” Spunky yipped and leaped onto a velvet sofa. “Or you, either.” Olivia picked him up and stroked his head to quiet him. “Sit down, Maddie. When am I ever without some semblance of a plan?”

“Hold that thought,” Maddie said. “I’ll be right back.” She disappeared into the hallway.

Olivia buried her face in her little Yorkie’s fur. “So much for planning.” She lifted her head and took a centering breath, the way her mother did when life threatened her inner peace. In a few seconds, Olivia came up with a reasonable explanation to give Hermione if she returned first. She’d say that Maddie needed the loo, information that didn’t invite follow-up questions.

To Olivia’s relief, Maddie reappeared a few minutes later. “I wanted a peek into the back parlor, where Binnie took the photo Del sent us,” Maddie said.

“But that’s right near—”

“Yes, Livie, I know it’s near the kitchen, but that meant I could hear Hermione making tea. She kept huffing and puffing, by the way, so apparently that isn’t an act. Anyway, the back parlor door was closed, with crime scene tape hanging down one side. I figured the police finished with the room, or they wouldn’t have let Hermione stay in the mansion alone. I opened the door and slipped inside. The room still looks like it did in Binnie’s photo, at least as far as I can tell. Hermione hasn’t so much as picked up that sweet little Victorian parlor table, which I’m sure she could do without having a heart attack.”

“I shouldn’t encourage you,” Olivia said, “but did you get a look at the dining room?”

“Yeah, it’s still a mess, too. Plates and cups and shards all over the floor. Hermione has to walk through it to get to the kitchen. It’s weird…like she doesn’t care in the least that she’s surrounded by chaos.”

The sound of rattling crockery halted their conversation. Olivia leaned close to Maddie’s ear and whispered, “I really do have a plan, of sorts. Follow my lead.” She plunked Spunky on Maddie’s lap and handed her the leash.

Hermione entered the parlor carrying a tray laden with tiny sandwiches, store-bought gingersnaps, and a thin slice of turkey, in addition to a large pot of tea, three cups, cream, sugar, small plates, and napkins. The tray shook in her hands. “Here we are,” Hermione said. “A lovely tea for all four of us.”

Olivia hopped up and reached for the tray. “Let me take that. You shouldn’t be carrying such a load.” As she’d
guessed, the tray was quite heavy. She wondered how Hermione had managed to carry it, as well as pick her way through the mess in the dining room, without tripping.

“Oh, nonsense,” Hermione said. “I’m certainly able to tote a tea tray. I took one of my little pills to help me breathe, and I’m right as rain. Now, I’ll be Mother, shall I?”

As Hermione prepared tea and handed plates around, Olivia said, “I’m glad you’re feeling better, but it’s hard to lose a loved one. Maddie and I want you to know we’d be glad to help you in any way we can. The police left your things in such disarray.… Perhaps we could help you tidy up or pack everything away for when your own belongings arrive from England?”

“So kind,” Hermione murmured into her teacup. “You have such busy young lives with that sweet little store to take care of. I’m sure I can manage.” Hermione’s teacup clattered as she placed it on its saucer. “Where are my manners,” she said, smiling at Spunky. “You haven’t had your treat, little one.” She put the plate of shaved turkey on the rug near her feet, and Spunky lunged for it. “There is one thing you could do for me,” Hermione said. “Would you tell me if the police are certain they’ve identified the awful person who made me a widow? I did rather like that young man—Matthew, as I recall—though he upset Paine terribly by bringing up poor old Frederick’s shocking behavior.”

“I don’t think they are certain,” Olivia said. “I believe they are looking at other suspects as well.”

“Oh my, that’s so unlikely, isn’t it? It must be that young man. He has such a temper; he quite terrified me. We’ve only been here a few days, hardly time enough for so many suspects to pop up out of nowhere.”

“That makes the situation…difficult.” Olivia took a
long sip of tea, allowing the silence to grow. She put down her cup and said, “You see, when there are no other suspects, the police turn their attention to family members.”

“Well, there you are, then,” Hermione said. “That boy claimed to be a Chatterley, though really, when one comes from the wrong side of the sheets, one is expected to keep quiet about it.”

“Livie, haven’t there been others in town who’ve discovered they’re related to Frederick P.?” Maddie asked. “What about them?”

“I think they all had alibis.” Olivia had no idea if this was true. “I did hear a rumor that Matthew Fabrizio was being released for lack of evidence.”

“How monstrous!” Hermione’s plate slid off her lap, and Spunky lunged for it. Maddie leaped up and grabbed him around the middle. He didn’t object when she plunked him on her lap—he’d had just enough time to determine the plate was empty. Hermione ignored the commotion. “Such incompetence would never be tolerated in England.” Her voice had assumed an aristocratic tone.

Exchanging a quick glance with Olivia, Maddie said, “Paine grew up in Chatterley Heights. Maybe someone from his youth has a grudge against him?”

“Of course,” Olivia said. “Mrs. Chatterley, didn’t you mention that your husband was upset when he recognized two individuals from his past in our store Tuesday evening? I noticed he seemed to remember both Quill Latimer and Karen Evanson, our mayor.”

Hermione’s plump face hardened. “I believe Paine and the professor were at school together. Paine wasn’t one to wallow in unpleasant memories, but he did mention to me that—Quill, did you say? Such an odd name to give a child. Anyway, Paine once mentioned that Quill had copied his
schoolwork. That’s all I remember. But that woman…” Hermione began to gather the empty teacups.

“Oh, let me do that,” Maddie said. “You need to consider your health. You know how it is in a small town,” she added apologetically. “By now, everyone has heard about your visit to Johns Hopkins Hospital.”

“How very considerate of you,” Hermione said. “I grew up in a tiny village in England, so of course I’m not surprised in the least that you know of my heart condition. It is tiresome, but there you are. I try not to let it rule my life.” Without protest, Hermione allowed Maddie to clear away the tea things and take the tray to the kitchen.

“Did your husband say anything about Karen Evanson?” Olivia asked.

With an unladylike snort, Hermione said, “He didn’t have to say a word. I knew all along what that woman was like. Of course, it isn’t my place to judge your mayor. Who knows, perhaps she turned her life around, although from the little I’ve seen, she’s as self-indulgent as ever.”

“It sounds as if you actually knew Karen,” Olivia said. “If there’s something in her past you think the town should know about…”

“Well, for the good of Chatterley Heights…after all, the town
is
named after Paine’s family.” Hermione patted her fluff of white hair and settled back in her armchair.

Olivia wished Maddie would return to hear Hermione’s story. It might be helpful to have a second pair of eyes and ears, especially when those eyes and ears belonged to Maddie Briggs. Olivia suspected she was conducting a quick search of the kitchen and nearby rooms.

“I’m not a gossip,” Hermione said, “never have been. However, little Miss Karen Evanson hasn’t always been as respectable as she wants the town to believe. About
twenty-five years back, maybe more—when Karen was, oh, nineteen or twenty years old, I’d say—Paine and I had the misfortune to cross her path. I’m only a few years older than she is, but at that time, Paine and I had already been married for several years, so I was far more mature.”

Olivia estimated that Hermione’s “few years older” equaled at least ten. Spunky lifted his sleepy head at a rustling sound from the hallway. Maddie appeared in the parlor doorway, about to speak. With an infinitesimal shake of her head, Olivia warned her not to interrupt. Maddie quietly sank into her chair.

Hermione continued as if she hadn’t noticed Maddie’s return. “This was back in the eighties, of course, so morals were quite loose. Karen was studying art, I believe, somewhere in France. I have little interest in frivolous pursuits such as art—except for the old masters, naturally. In the early spring, Karen came to London and stayed for several months. I presume she’d become bored with art and decided a fling would be more fun. She became entangled in a most unfortunate and inappropriate affair with a wealthy—and married, I might add—gentleman of our acquaintance. His wife Ariana was a dear friend of mine. She was so heartbroken. I tried to comfort her, but…”

Hermione’s story had so mesmerized Olivia that she hadn’t thought about what information she ought to elicit. Luckily, Maddie was quicker on the uptake. “Did Karen break up their marriage?” Maddie asked.

“Oh, far worse,” Hermione said. “Poor Ariana tried to kill herself. Well, that created quite an uproar, I can tell you. Sir Laurence, Lady Ariana’s husband, he was the one who found her, barely alive. She was terribly ill for some time. Bundled off to the country to recover, she was. Well, with her out of the way, Sir Laurence and that
selfish little blonde, they thought they’d carry on as they had before. Well, I wasn’t about to let that happen, I can tell you. I called the tabloids.” Hermione nodded with self-satisfaction.

Olivia was taken aback. In the United States, tabloids were popular but wielded little real power. She reminded herself that British tabloids had operated for many decades with fewer controls. They had successfully intruded into the lives of the wealthy and powerful, until recently without repercussions. “I’m intrigued,” Olivia said. “That was a clever way to punish the people who hurt your friend so badly.”

Hermione grinned like a feral cat with a feather in its mouth. “It worked, too. Sir Laurence was humiliated. He ended his affair with that woman and moved to the country to be nearer his wife during her recuperation. Karen, of course, was outraged. She’s an American, so she didn’t understand why Sir Laurence took the tabloids so seriously.” Hermione leaned toward Olivia and Maddie, her hands neatly clasped in her lap. “You see, Karen believed that Sir Laurence would divorce his wife and marry her. She couldn’t understand why a few tabloid pieces ruined her dream of becoming the wife of a rich lord. And ooh, she was so angry with me. Because she knew I was the instrument of Ariana’s revenge.” Hermione sat back in her chair and smiled.

Acting on a hunch, Olivia asked, “Did Karen by any chance try to take revenge on you? I ask because I see her as someone who doesn’t easily accept defeat. I suspect she wouldn’t have been that…mature.” Olivia almost said “passive,” but Hermione might have interpreted that as a compliment to Karen.

Hermione waved a dismissive hand. “There really wasn’t
much she could do. The reporters wouldn’t leave her alone, you see. They parked themselves outside her flat, took photos every time she left the building.… If she went to the shops, they photographed her buying biscuits or bottles of wine. If she talked to anyone, especially a man, we’d read an interview with him the next day. She left London in less than a fortnight.”

Olivia shivered as she imagined what it would feel like to be hounded daily. Seeing herself in Binnie Sloan’s irritating blog was the closest Olivia had come to feeling publicly exposed, and it hadn’t been comfortable. She had a hard time believing Karen would have slunk away without lashing out at her tormentor. There was more to Hermione’s story; Olivia was sure of it. She was willing to bet the vintage Hallmark cookie-cutter collection she’d inherited from Clarisse that the rest of Hermione’s story involved her husband. Had Karen run into Paine in London? If so, she would know that his death certificate was a fake. Yet she’d raised no objections to the town’s ownership claim to Chatterley Mansion. What if Paine was the man with whom Karen had a fling? That would explain why Hermione’s anger with Karen sounded personal. And why else would Paine have greeted Karen as if he’d once known her well?