Virginia Lowell - A Cookie Before Dying

“My brother, and I say this with love, is not that clever,” Olivia said.

Mr. Willard cleared his throat. “I am inclined to agree. Jason has always struck me as a young man without guile.”

Del rocked his chair gently and frowned at his desk. After some moments, Olivia said, “I hear things, see things. Remember, I filled you in on the cache of stolen goods in Heather Irwin’s barn, as well as everything Maddie and I heard at Gwen and Herbie’s baby shower. You wouldn’t have heard about the loan shark threatening Geoffrey King and King’s use of that threat to put more pressure on Charlene if I hadn’t told you to interview Lenora Tucker.”

With a brief smile, Del said, “Quite a character. Though I keep wondering if she embellished her memory with scenes from a movie.”

“It was helpful, though, right?”

“That remains to be seen.”

“The knife . . . it was from The Vegetable Plate kitchen, wasn’t it? Charlene had a set of four knives, each decorated at the top of the handle with a different vegetable. I saw one of them, the tomato knife, among the stolen items in Heather’s barn.”

Del’s gaze met her eyes but he said nothing.

“One of the remaining three knives was used to kill King. I’m right, aren’t I?”

With a sigh, Del nodded his head. “Keep that information to yourselves.”

“Of course,” Olivia said. “And we won’t tell Jason, you can be sure of that. He’d use the knowledge to cement his confession. Del, if we could put our information together . . . I’m not trying to interfere, but I can’t sit back and wait for Jason to get himself convicted of a crime I am absolutely certain he did not commit.” Olivia did not mention seeing Raoul dance with the mysterious woman from the park. She was afraid Del might barge into the dance studio with a search warrant, causing Raoul to disappear, along with his partner.

“You first,” Del said.

To catch him up, Olivia quickly told him about the cookie cutters missing from The Gingerbread House, adding, “When I found Geoffrey King’s body I thought I saw something shiny and silvery in his hand. It looked like the edge of a cookie cutter. Was it?”

Del fetched the coffeepot and filled their cups before responding to Olivia’s information. “Okay, yeah, we found a cookie cutter in King’s hand. No clear indication as to how it got there, whether he grabbed it from his killer or it was placed in his hand. No fingerprints but his. We didn’t know what it was meant to be, but it sounds like the Duesenberg shape you described.” Del took a sip of coffee. “So thanks for that.”

“So what about the knife that killed Geoffrey King?” Olivia asked.

Del stared into his coffee cup for several moments before he said, “We found the knife flung a few yards from the body. No usable fingerprints. The storm washed off most of the blood, but there was enough for analysis. It was King’s.”

“What did the knife look like?” Mr. Willard asked. “It is essential that we know this detail.”

Del nodded. “All right. It was about eight inches long, including the decoration at the top, which looked like a very orange pumpkin.”

“Thank you, Del,” Olivia said. “Can we see Jason now? Even though he refuses to talk to us?”

“I’ll lock both of you in with him, then it’s up to you.” Del took the jail key off a hook and led them down the hallway toward the cell. “When it comes right down to it,” Del said, “a guy under arrest for murder can’t demand a lot of privacy.”

“I know you didn’t murder Geoffrey King, so you might as well drop the self-sacrificing hero act,” Olivia said. Jason’s bones looked ready to break through his skin. “You look awful. You haven’t gone on a hunger strike, have you? Are you trying to kill your mother?”

“I’m not trying to do anything to anybody,” Jason said.

“Here.” Olivia handed him a Gingerbread House bag. “Maddie sent these. Sugar in various shapes and colors, all delicious. Personally, I’m for letting you starve to death for what you are doing to your loved ones, but Maddie has a softer heart.”

Jason tossed the bag next to him on his bunk, but his eyes strayed in the bag’s direction. He reached for it, pulled out a pink bunny cookie, and bit off the ear. “Thank Maddie for me,” he mumbled through a mouthful of crumbs.

“Okay, Jason,” Olivia said, “tell me how you killed Geoffrey King.”

Jason’s open face tightened with suspicion. “Why?”

“Because if you can convince me you really killed him, I promise I’ll stop bugging you.”

Jason munched his way through a gingerbread teddy bear, deep in thought. When teddy was no more, Jason said, “I stabbed him.”

“I see. With what did you stab him?”

“A knife.”

“What kind of knife?”

“A knife kind of knife. Geez, what do you want from me?”

Olivia grabbed the cookie bag out of her brother’s hand. Jason’s bereft expression made him look young and vulnerable . . . and scared. Olivia pressed harder. “Describe the knife to me, in precise detail. And tell me where you got it.”

Jason’s dark wavy hair hung in greasy strings, and his frantic hazel eyes searched the tiny cell. Olivia wanted to throw her arms around his thin shoulders. She steeled herself and asked again, “Where did you get the knife?”

“From Charlene’s kitchen,” he said.

Olivia felt the blood rush to her head. Jason was probably spouting an obvious answer, since he’d spent so much time with Charlene. But still....

Mr. Willard must have sensed her confusion. He dragged his visitor’s stool close to Jason’s bed, looked him in the eyes, and said, “I am not convinced. The Vegetable Plate is replete with knives. Precisely what type of knife did you select? What did it look like?”

“I . . .” Jason’s mouth hung open, as if he’d forgotten how to form words.

Mr. Willard shifted his stool closer. “Jason, this should not be a difficult question. What type of knife did you take from Charlene Critch’s kitchen? We are waiting.” His voice had lost its normal diffident quality.

“Big,” Jason said, barely above a whisper. “It was big.”

“How big? You are a mechanic, are you not? You ought to be able to estimate the size of a tool. How long was the blade?”

“A foot.”

“Twelve inches? Are you sure?”

“Maybe bigger. Or smaller, I don’t remember.”

“Which is it, bigger or smaller?”

“I told you, I don’t know. It was night, so it was dark.”

With a stern frown, Mr. Willard asked, “Are you claiming it was dark in Ms. Critch’s kitchen? Where was she at the time? If it was dark, how did you know where to find this knife? Did Ms. Critch find it for you?”

“No! Charlene . . . she wasn’t there. Don’t you try to blame her for anything.” Jason shifted from confused little boy to angry protector.

“All right then, describe this foot-long knife. Make us see it.” Mr. Willard had transformed from a gentle elderly man to . . . Perry Mason.

Jason hadn’t once looked toward Olivia for support. He was in Mr. Willard’s power. The fear and tension melted from Olivia’s body as she turned her brother’s cross-examination over to an expert.

“I told you, I don’t remember what it looked like.” Jason was wilting from exhaustion. “It was just a knife, a big knife. There wasn’t anything about it worth remembering, I guess.”

“You don’t remember the knife you so carefully selected and with which you stabbed a man to death?”

“Um . . . No.”

“Mr. King was a strong man,” Mr. Willard said. “How did you manage to stab him without being harmed yourself?”

“I surprised him by . . . I stabbed him in the back.” Jason glanced uncertainly from Mr. Willard’s face to Olivia’s.