Cookies and Scream (A Cookie Cutter Shop Mystery) (24 page)

“Sure,” Calliope said. “I put together a whole slide show. I’ll email it to you.” She spit the pit of a cherry onto her plate. “I couldn’t stand the rich ladies who looked down their noses at the rest of us.”

Olivia hesitated a moment, hoping Calliope would elaborate. When she didn’t, Olivia plunged ahead. “When you mentioned those rich women, I immediately thought of Greta Oskarson,” she said. “Were these women like her?”

Calliope’s broad cheeks reddened. “I was talking about Greta Oskarson.” Calliope glared at her empty plate as if she were replaying a scene on shipboard. “When I saw her again in your store, Livie, I couldn’t believe it. You know, she was on all three of the cruises I took, and I never once heard her mention cookies or cookie cutters. As far as I could tell, she was only interested in her ball gowns and how many men she could steal away from their wives or girlfriends.” Calliope snorted. “We used to call her ‘the viper’ behind her back. She was vicious. She used to ‘hold court’ with a group of other ladies who thought they were better than the rest of us. When one of us passed nearby, Greta would say something insulting about us in French or German, and her ladies-in-waiting would titter like stupid girls.” Calliope grinned. “Greta didn’t know I speak both French and German fluently. I use whatever language the people around me are speaking, and I’m pretty good at picking up accents and slang. It helps me get along with people. One day I ran past Greta and her minions because I was late for a poker game. I heard Greta say, in German, that I galloped like a plow horse. I didn’t mind that so much, but then she said I was ugly because my father had been ugly.”

“Geez, that’s cold,” Jason said. “I don’t suppose you punched her in the nose?”

“I did better,” Calliope said. “I shouted at her, in German, that at least I wasn’t a black widow, killing husbands for their money. You should have seen her face, all their faces. Nobody insults my father and gets away with it.”

“Well done, cousin!” Allan said, toasting her with his glass of wine.

“She deserved it. Greta made it her business to dig up everything she could about other people. She loved having that power.” Calliope selected one grape from the serving plate and ate it. “That was the last time I traveled on the
Alice Springs
,” she said.

“And you said you’d met Greta on previous cruises?” Olivia asked.

Calliope nodded. “Greta and I were both on the
Alice Springs
the year before that last one. Greta was traveling with one of her husbands. One night he fell overboard and was never found. Greta claimed he’d been having trouble sleeping and went for a walk on deck, while she stayed in bed. Nobody could prove anything different. You know, it’s funny you should ask that. That cruise popped into my mind at your cookie party. I saw someone there who was a dead ringer for another woman who was on the
Alice Springs
when Greta’s husband drowned. Can’t be, though. She was too young.”

“Who was too young?” Olivia tried to sound casual.

“That silly blond girl who wasted her time talking to that old guy. I forget his name.”

“Olaf Jakobson?” Olivia asked.

“That’s the one. She has hair like a woman I saw on the ship. I remember because she and Greta had a big argument. I never found out what it was about.”

“Was this woman French, by any chance?” Olivia asked.

“No, I’m almost positive she was German. Anyway, it couldn’t be her because she would probably be in her late fifties by now.” Calliope shrugged. “Blondes all look alike, anyway.”

*   *   *

W
hile Allan, Jason, and Calliope lingered in the living room and finished up the dessert tray, Olivia followed her mother into the kitchen. As Olivia washed and Ellie dried the items Calliope had set beside the dishwasher, Olivia recounted Maddie’s and her visit with Aunt Sadie. Ellie was unusually quiet during the recital.

“What’s up, Mom?” Olivia asked. “You haven’t made a single comment.”

“Oh, I was just thinking how confusing this whole episode has been. I had no idea Greta had made so many enemies in her lifetime, and I still can’t fathom why she would want to return to Chatterley Heights. We might never know for sure why or how she died. I’m particularly disturbed by what Aunt Sadie said about Greta’s cookie cutter collection. If I’d even suspected Greta was sucking you and Maddie into a scheme to defraud collectors, I’d have—”

“Don’t even say it, Mom. Luckily, somebody else beat you to it.”

“Well, there are plenty of suspects, that’s for sure. Livie, I want you to do something for me. Go talk to Anita Rambert. Now, don’t do that loud sighing thing again. I mean it. You and Maddie will both be on the suspect list, if there ever is one, and you need to be prepared. You need to make it clear that you were suspicious of the collection, not Greta’s partners in a scheme to defraud collectors. If you act quickly, the police are less likely to think you might have killed Greta to take control of her collection.”

“Mom, that’s a stretch.”

“Please call Anita,” Ellie said. “For me.”

“How can I trust Anita after she stole a copy of Greta’s list?”

“If Anita really did get the list from her cousin, I’m sure she had her reasons.” Ellie planted her fists on her slender hips, and said, “Get your cell phone out and call Anita right now. I mean it.”

“But—”

“No ‘buts.’ Call her.”

Olivia knew when her mother meant business, and this was one of those times. Anyway, it would be helpful to talk to Anita. Olivia reached into her pocket for her cell and selected the number from her phone book. She wasn’t surprised when Anita answered on the first ring.

“Livie,” Anita said. “Good. We’re running out of time.”

“You and my mom have been conspiring behind my back, haven’t you?” Olivia arched an eyebrow at Ellie.

“No time for that,” Anita said. “And don’t blame Craig. I asked him to copy the list for me, since you wouldn’t let me anywhere near it. We’re a tight family. Craig accidentally took the original instead of the copy. Livie, I’ve been suspicious of that collection ever since Greta came to town. Remember, she was here for a week before you and Maddie returned. The heat doesn’t bother me, so I stayed here. I tried and tried to talk to Greta, to convince her that I could make more money for her if she’d let me sell her collection, but she stonewalled me. It didn’t make sense. Greta was not a sentimental person, and from what I’d heard about her, she didn’t care about trust and honesty. So why would she be so insistent that
you
sell her collection?”

“Thanks so much,” Olivia said.

“Look, Livie, whether you believe it or not, I like and even respect you as a businesswoman. The Gingerbread House brings antique-hungry customers to Chatterley Heights, which helps my business.”

“All right then,” Olivia said. “Tell me what you learned from reading Greta’s list of cookie cutters.”

“Without having seen and held the cutters, I’d say there are more fakes in that collection then there are genuine antiques. Aunt Sadie called me after you and Maddie showed her a sample of Greta’s cutters.”

“Et tu, Aunt Sadie?” Olivia sighed.

“Never mind that,” Anita said. “From what Aunt Sadie told me about the cutters you showed her, it wouldn’t have been long before someone began to question their authenticity.”

“Okay, I admit that I came to the same conclusion,” Olivia said. “It also occurred to me that Greta had tried to set me up to take the fall, if there was one.” She told Anita her suspicion that Greta had a backup plan to steal her own collection from the Gingerbread House safe.

“Yup. Quite the old darling, wasn’t she? Livie, we’re all worried about you.”

“Who’s ‘we’?”

“Well, me and your mom . . . Aunt Sadie, of course, and Constance. Constance called me after you called her to ask about who got Greta’s original list. She got the impression that you might not have it, and then she remembered that Craig is my cousin, so . . . I confessed my perfidy and told her why I wanted to see the list. Constance and I are kindred spirits: shrewd yet honest businesswomen with suspicious natures. We know a con when we smell it.”

“Constance is more forthright than you are,” Olivia said, and then wished she hadn’t.

“I deserved that.” Anita chuckled. “Heck, I earned it. The point is that we see danger ahead unless you make it very clear that you, too, are suspicious about the authenticity of Greta’s collection, and you divorce yourself from its fate.”

Olivia went silent, her mind filled with questions she was struggling to put into words. She agreed she might be in some danger of becoming a suspect, but what if the medical examiner couldn’t definitively determine how Greta died? What if everyone was wrong about the authenticity of Greta’s collection? Had Anita convinced everyone that her own intentions were honorable simply so she could take over the sale of the collection? Might someone else lay claim to the cutters? Olivia was increasingly convinced that the only way out of this incomprehensible mess was to plow through it.

“Olivia, are you still there?” Anita asked.

“Thanks for telling me all this, Anita, and I’ll do some thinking. You are officially forgiven, more or less, for swiping Greta’s original list. Come to The Gingerbread House tomorrow morning at eight a.m. I’ll let you know what I’ve decided. Bring the list back, too.” Olivia hung up without waiting for a response. If she knew Chatterley Heights, rumors would be flying soon enough. In fact, she was counting on it.

Chapter Twenty

When Olivia returned from dinner with her family, the foyer of her Queen Anne smelled like ginger and cinnamon. Maddie was at it again. “That woman can’t keep her hands out of the cookie dough,” Olivia said under her breath. Spunky stood on his hind legs, his front paws against the Gingerbread House door, and gave his happy yap. “I’m glad, too,” Olivia said. “Maddie and I have some planning to do, and we’ll be needing cookies for what I have in mind. Come on, Spunks.” She lifted her eager Yorkie into her arms. “You can snooze in your chair until Maddie and I finish in the kitchen.” Olivia entered the store’s sales floor, locked the door behind her, and flipped on the overhead lights. Aunt Sadie had given them a thick curtain that she wasn’t using, so they could now cover the front window at night. Olivia had to turn on the overhead lights to help her navigate around the displays without crashing into them. On the plus side, Binnie and Ned would no longer be able to spy on her so easily.

After settling Spunky in his chair, Olivia headed toward the kitchen. She paused after opening the kitchen door, hoping not to startle Maddie as she eased an unbaked speculaas cookie from its mold. “Nicely done,” Olivia said when the cookie was safely settled on a baking sheet. “Better you than me. I always mangle them.”

Maddie performed a quick curtsy. “It does take a bit of practice and, of course, natural talent. You know, I always wondered what an unnatural talent would look like.”

“Wonder later,” Olivia said. “Right now, we have work to do. We need to finish before dawn.”

“So you texted. I took it as a cue to start baking again. Your brilliant plans always seem to call for dozens of cookies.”

“Except when they involve breaking into houses.” Olivia rinsed Mr. Coffee’s carafe and filled it to the limit with fresh water.

“Ooh, are we going to break into another house? Although I’m not sure we can claim that we actually broke into Greta’s house, since the door was unlocked. It was more like ‘entering.’ Anyway, can it wait until I’ve finished this batch of speculaas?”

“No breaking and/or entering tonight.” Olivia poured the carafe of water into Mr. Coffee’s reservoir. “I do have a plan, though.” Olivia paused as she measured ground Italian roast into the basket. “Our first order of business is to announce that we will be closed for one more day. I’ll make an announcement on our website and to everyone on our email list, if you’ll put a note on the front door. We are going to have a private showing of Greta’s cookie cutter collection. I told Anita to come.”

“That’s totally exciting,” Maddie said, “but why the hurry? We won’t have time to contact collectors.”

“We aren’t inviting collectors,” Olivia said as she pulled up the Gingerbread House website. “We’ll be inviting murder suspects. We need Greta’s murder solved quickly, so we can deal with her cutter collection. Specifically, I mean the fact that it contains fake antiques. We need to separate ourselves from that collection, for our own protection. I’m virtually positive Greta’s death wasn’t entirely natural, and her collection is involved somehow. While the M.E. has been pondering the technicalities of Greta’s demise, our deputy sheriff, bless his earnest heart, has missed opportunities to gather evidence while it was fresh.”

“Oh,” Maddie said. “Didn’t you hear the news, Livie? I can’t believe your mother didn’t get to this first. Although, to be fair, I was on the phone with Polly while she was reading her emails, so she told me right away.”

“Polly told you what?”

Maddie frowned in concentration. “She said the medical examiner consulted with someone, don’t ask me who . . . an expert on something or other. I’m not good with exact details. I was hoping your mom had filled you in.”

“She didn’t. Give me the gist.”

Maddie brightened. “I can do the gist. The M.E. decreed that the bruises on Greta’s neck, plus the fact that someone later came to the house and wiped off fingerprints, imply she was probably attacked at some point before her death. At any rate, even if Greta did die of natural causes, an attack probably wouldn’t have helped. All things considered, the M.E. decided that her death warranted more investigation.”

Olivia felt the blood leave her face. “Maddie, that means Cody will dust Greta’s house more thoroughly for fingerprints, doesn’t it?”

“According to Polly, he already did that. You know Cody, once he finally decides to act, he does it yesterday.”

“But aren’t you worried? He’ll have found our fingerprints in the attic, remember?” Olivia heard Mr. Coffee spit his last drops, but she ignored him.

“He did find them,” Maddie said. “But, according to Polly, he didn’t think anything of it. He figured Greta had taken us to the attic to show us photos. Cody is earnest about his police work, but between you and me, he hasn’t quite honed his instincts. He isn’t nearly suspicious enough.”

“Knowing Cody, he will now become overzealous,” Olivia sank onto a chair and reached for a cooled speculaas cookie. “I’m not looking forward to that.”

“Oh, Livie, don’t fuss.” Maddie poured two cups of coffee and gave one to Olivia. “You and I will unmask Greta’s attacker tomorrow. That’s what you meant when you said you had a plan, right? I hope it’s a good one.”

“Me too.” Olivia added cream and sugar to her coffee and gulped down most of it. “We need to gather our suspects together before they disappear. I’ll work on that, and it won’t be easy.”

“It’s lucky I decided to beef up our cookie supply, if I may mix food references.” Maddie waved her hand toward the cooling speculaas cookies.

“The catch is that I don’t want too many people to know about the showing.”

“Ha,” Maddie said. “Good luck with that.”

“Sometimes I long for the anonymity of the city.” Olivia refreshed her coffee and opened the lid of her laptop. Offering Maddie her chair, she asked, “Is there any way of checking a ship’s manifest online? I’m thinking specifically of passenger lists.”

Maddie slid onto the chair and wiggled her fingers. “What ship?”

“The
Alice Springs
, in 1995,” Olivia said.

“Ooh, you figured out the name of the ship Greta was on, the one we saw in that photo.”

“I have Calliope to thank for that,” Olivia said.

Maddie produced rapid clicking sounds, while Olivia waited for the next batch of speculaas to finish baking. When the timer dinged, she replaced the baked cookies with a pan Maddie had already prepared.

“Not having much luck,” Maddie said. “There are some historic passenger lists available, but they are for lots of different ships. Availability is spotty, and so far I don’t see anything as late as 1995. These records are meant for people who are interested in tracing their ancestors. I could apply for the information through official channels, but that would take time, and there are no guarantees. I also see posts from people trying to find names and email addresses for others who were on the same cruise. Looking through all those would be really labor-intensive. Want me to keep looking?”

“Maybe you could search for references to someone on the ship who might have fallen overboard in 1995.”

Once again, Maddie’s fingers bounced around the keyboard. “Okay, I found one small notice in an Australian paper about a male passenger who fell overboard and drowned. All it says is that the guy was elderly, walking alone on deck at night, no one saw him go over . . . His death was declared an accident. Given his age, the authorities assumed he experienced vertigo and lost his footing. The ship wasn’t near a port of call when it happened. No more details.” Maddie twisted in her chair. “Do you want me to keep searching?”

“No, this is taking too long. We’ll find another way. It might be a wild-goose chase, anyway,” Olivia said. “Hand over the laptop. I need to shoot off some emails to our customers.”

“Good.” Maddie hopped out of the chair as the timer dinged. “I’ve got baking to finish. It’s okay to chatter at me about what you’re doing. I’m an excellent multitasker.”

“Well, multitasking is not one of my gifts, I’m afraid,” Olivia said. “Anyway, now I’m finding various sneaky ways to invite a select group to the store tomorrow morning. I’m giving out a few assignments . . . starting with my mom. She needs to get Calliope to come. I’m also asking Mom to pick up Anita and to park in the alley behind the store, just in case folks start gathering on the porch. Could you pick up Mr. Willard?”

“Sure,” Maddie said. “What about Bertha?”

“We won’t need her,” Olivia said. “I don’t want too many people around. I’ll let Mr. Willard know. He’ll be just as glad that Bertha won’t be in any danger.” When she had finished the email to her mother, Olivia emailed Bertha to ask a question and to tell her not to come to work in the morning.

The oven timer dinged, followed at once by another ding telling Olivia that she had an email. “Excellent,” Olivia said. “Mom promises to be mum. Cute. She will bring Calliope with her. Oh, and Mom had a great idea for getting Olaf and Desirée to show up tomorrow.”

“If there’s anyone who can accomplish that feat, it’s Ellie,” Maddie said.

“Mom says Polly called her with some gossip. Polly had just gotten home after she and her boyfriend celebrated their one-year anniversary with dinner at Bon Vivant. They saw Olaf dining with ‘that gorgeous blonde’ who came to our cookie event. I think we can assume the woman was Desirée. By the end of their meal, according to Polly’s friend, the two of them were acting mighty lovey-dovey. Polly is good friends with their waitress, who said that she heard Olaf and Desirée make a date for early breakfast at Joe’s Diner tomorrow morning.” Olivia paused for a sip of coffee.

“How very convenient,” Maddie said. “Isn’t small-town gossip wonderful?”

“Sometimes,” Olivia said. “I’ll drop by their table in the morning and simply tell them we’re showing some of Greta’s cookie cutters tomorrow. They aren’t likely to tell anyone else. Olaf will want to buy something for Desirée, and he won’t want competition.”

“What if they don’t show up?” Maddie asked.

Olivia shrugged. “Something will come to me.” Her computer dinged to announce the arrival of another email. “It’s Bertha,” Olivia said. “She is up late emailing her sister. Oh, that’s interesting . . .”

“What? What’s interesting?” When Olivia didn’t respond, Maddie shoved a pan of cookies into the oven, closed the door, and set the timer. Casually, she said, “Livie, the kitchen is on fire. Where did you put the fire extinguisher?”

“It’s over near the door,” Olivia said. “Wait. What did you just say?”

“I asked what you were reading that was so interesting.” Maddie handed Olivia a cooled speculaas. “Eat,” she said. “I suspect your sugar level has dipped into the danger zone.”

Olivia laughed as she took the cookie. “Somehow I doubt that. Anyway, I was reading Bertha’s email. She told me why Greta stayed in the Gingerbread House sales area while Bertha stuffed her precious cookie cutters into our wall safe. Greta insisted she was feeling tired and a bit faint. She preferred to rest in the cookbook nook until Bertha had finished. That didn’t seem odd to Bertha, so she didn’t think to mention it to us.”

“That
is
interesting.” Maddie pulled a chair next to Olivia. “But what does it mean?”

“It means, my friend, that our Greta had a plan from the beginning. She’d covered all the bases. If anyone questioned the authenticity of her cutters while they were in our store, she had the combination for our safe. She could take them back and pretend they’d been stolen. Also, since she wasn’t in the kitchen when Bertha put the cutters in our safe, no one would suspect Greta. She could accuse us of being negligent and then claim the insurance money.”

“You know,” Maddie said, “it’s hard to imagine Greta sneaking in here at night and robbing our safe.”

“Greta wasn’t as weak as she pretended, despite her fatal heart attack. I’m willing to bet that she was, among other things, a cunning thief. However, there are other scenarios I can think of offhand. She could have accused us of substituting fakes for her originals. We’ll probably never piece together Greta’s entire plan, but I’m sure it was thorough, covering every contingency with several alternative escape maneuvers. That woman was an experienced con artist.”

“Yikes,” Maddie said. “I’m beginning to realize what a gigantic bullet we dodged.”

“Well, we aren’t out of the woods, yet, my friend.” Olivia returned to her email program.

“Now for Mr. Willard’s email, which will be complicated. I sure hope he has time to help out. He’s the only one with the expertise and the contacts. If Del were here . . .”

“Yeah,” Maddie said, “except if Del were here, he would tell us not to do what we are about to do.”

“Ah, but Del would know we intended to do it anyway, and he would end up riding shotgun,” Olivia said. “I probably should try to lure Cody here tomorrow morning. He’s our only hope of protection, should our plan go awry.”

The oven timer dinged, and Maddie popped up to rescue her pan of cookies. “Our plan is wonderful,” she said. “What could go wrong? Don’t answer that.” She placed her pan on a rack to cool. “Why are you asking Mr. Willard to be here tomorrow morning?”

“It’s a long shot,” Olivia said, “but I’m hoping Mr. Willard can get some information for me, especially about Greta.” When she finished, Olivia glanced up at the kitchen clock. “It’s two a.m. Are you about done with the baking? I’ll be getting up to shower before I head to Pete’s Diner at six-thirty a.m.”