Virginia Lowell - A Cookie Before Dying

“Also, we’ve already convinced three surgeons to commit two days a month each. Well, one of them is me, and I’ll be donating half of my surgery time, at least for now. Plus Joanie has been working day and night writing grants to drum up funding.”

“Joanie?” Olivia glanced over at Maddie, who was mixing a new batch of cookie dough by hand, rather than drown out Livie’s conversation with the whir of a mixer.

“You remember Joanie,” Ryan said in the mellifluous voice he used when he wanted to gloss over a subject as if it were only of minor importance. “Joanie and I were in the same medical school class, but she decided she didn’t want to practice, so now she writes applications for medical grants. Anyway, we’ve already been awarded a couple solid grants.”

Olivia remembered Joanie well, though she’d spoken with her only once and for about three minutes, at a party given by one of Ryan’s medical school professors. Joanie, with the girl-next-door name, had looked as if she’d come directly from a modeling runway. She’d worn a short, figure-hugging satiny dress that showed off her lovely shoulders and long legs. Excessively long, in Olivia’s opinion. Then there was her hair, long and streaky blonde, which swayed as she walked. Joanie’s gaze had scanned the party guests while she exchanged empty pleasantries with Olivia. Yes, she could imagine that Joanie was quite effective at scoring grant money.

Olivia’s flash of remembered jealousy startled her. That’s all it was, she told herself. Jealousy remembered. In the here and now, she felt relieved that Ryan might be involved with Joanie. Didn’t she?

“Thanks for the update, Ryan,” Olivia said. “I have to go now.”

After she’d hung up, Olivia sat in silence, pulled into herself. Maddie seemed to understand her need for quiet. Moments passed before Olivia became aware of a shuffling sound outside the door that led to the alley behind The Gingerbread House. It could be a cat, or maybe Deputy Cody’s black Lab, Buddy, had taken off again. No, it couldn’t be Buddy, not unless he had learned to turn doorknobs. Olivia glanced at the dead bolt, then at the lock in the doorknob; neither was in its locked position. In hot, humid weather the door did tend to stick, so it might feel locked.

“What did his highness have to say this time?” Maddie was not a fan of Ryan, and her tone made that clear. “Livie?” she asked when Olivia didn’t respond.

Olivia put her finger to her lips and nodded toward the door. When the knob jiggled again, she pointed to the rolling pin on the table. Maddie snatched it up and handed it to her. Holding the rolling pin poised to whack an intruder if necessary, Olivia twisted the knob and opened the door.

Maddie was the first to recognize a startled and familiar face under a broad-brimmed hat. “Snoopy?”

The rolling pin dropped to Olivia’s side as she, too, recognized Sam Parnell standing in the doorway. He had flushed cheeks and a package under one arm. As always, he wore the full uniform—appropriate to the season, of course—of a United States Postal Service carrier. This wasn’t the first time Sam had tried to get into their kitchen without knocking. He never seemed to learn.

No one called Sam by his nickname: Snoopy. At least not to his face. Red mottling began to creep up his neck.

Olivia opened the door wider. “Sam, what on earth were you thinking? You scared us to death. We thought you might be that intruder who broke into The Vegetable Plate.”

Sam’s flush deepened. His thin body seemed frozen in fight-or-flight stance. “I wasn’t . . . I mean, some folks leave their alley doors unlocked on a workday, and this package arrived special delivery, so . . .” He held out the package. Olivia recognized the return address of a mail order firm that made lovely cookie cutters. She had ordered some in anticipation of holiday events in coming months.

“Thanks, I’ve been waiting for this,” Olivia said, taking the package. “It’s okay to come to the back door, Sam, but we’d appreciate it if you’d knock. We normally keep the door locked, anyway, even if we’re working in the kitchen.”

“Sure,” Sam said. “I keep forgetting you picked up city habits living in Baltimore. Must have been tough, dealing with all that crime right outside your own front door.”

Maddie snickered. “Yeah, Livie had to knock a few heads together to clean up her neighborhood.”

Sam’s small eyes darted from Olivia to Maddie and back. “Well, I can’t stand around and yak all day.” He spun around so fast his heavy mail bag slapped his back and threw him off balance. Olivia cringed when she heard Maddie giggle behind her.

“Let me get that door for you,” Olivia said. “You’ve got quite a load there.”

“Nothing I’m not used to,” Sam said with dignity, nodding to Olivia as she held the door open. He paused before stepping into the alley. “By the way,” he said, “you might want to check out Binnie’s blog. She gave you two quite a spread.” Chuckling, he added, “I guess any publicity is good, right?”

By the time Olivia locked and latched the door, Maddie had fired up the kitchen laptop and logged on to Binnie Sloan’s blog, her newest adjunct to the Weekly Chatter , Chatterley Heights’ only newspaper . For the most part, Binnie let her young niece, Nedra, handle the blog. Since Ned, as she preferred to be called, was a photographer and rarely spoke, the content was almost entirely photos, mostly of Chatterley Heights citizens looking startled, embarrassed, and angry. Often in that order.

Maddie flipped through the blog photos and said, “Ugh.”

“How bad is it?”

Maddie answered with a low growl. “I advise you to call Mr. Willard.”

“Seriously? You think we need an attorney?”

“If I’m going to kill Binnie and Ned, I’d better lawyer up.” Maddie turned the laptop toward Olivia. “Take a look.”

Olivia pulled a chair over to the small desk and squeezed next to Maddie, who scrolled back to the beginning of the photo display. Maddie muttered vengeful threats as she scanned through Ned’s candid shots of the two of them cleaning scrunched-up paper off The Gingerbread House lawn.

“I hereby vow to do my laundry on a more regular basis,” Olivia said when she saw herself in her red shorts and pink tank top.

“That’s nothing,” Maddie said. “Check out my hair. It looks like a bale of hay exploded on my head. I’m thinking I’ll bash Ned with her own camera.”

“I don’t think this is worth a murder rap,” Olivia said as the final photo appeared. “It’s embarrassing and intrusive, but that’s what Binnie and Ned are good at.” She squinted and leaned toward the screen. “What’s that?”

“What?”

“Right there, in the second-floor window of The Vegetable Plate.” Olivia pointed to the blurred upper right edge of the photo.

Maddie peered over Olivia’s shoulder. “I do see something, but . . .” Her fingers punched the keyboard. The photo became enlarged, and was blurrier, but a head-and-shoulders-shaped dark patch showed clearly in the top-floor window of The Vegetable Plate. “We’d better email this link to Del and Cody. Maybe they can get hold of the original. I’d love to see them confiscate Ned’s camera. Can you tell if it’s a man or a woman?”

“I can’t see any hair,” Olivia said. “The sun must be picking up the face because the room behind looks unlit. That makes sense if this is the store intruder, and he doesn’t want to be caught searching for something. If it’s Charlene, I think we might see the lightness of her hair; it’s such a bright blond.”

“Brighter than nature intended,” Maddie said. “I wonder when Ned took this picture.”