06 Dead Men Don't Eat Cookies, page 20
Ida snorted. “Pete can fight his own battles.” She dragged over a chair and sank onto it. “Pete wanted to thank you for coming so quick and arresting that Kurt fellow, the one who took a swing at him. Not that Pete was scared of the little pip-squeak,” Ida said. “Only he was worried he might have to slug the kid to get rid of him. Mostly, Pete wanted to protect Alicia. I don’t suppose you can keep Kurt in jail for a year or so?”
Del chuckled. “Sorry, no can do. I’ve already had to let him go with a stern warning to stay away from the diner and from Alicia. I made it clear to him that if he ignores my warning, I’ll ask a judge to issue a restraining order. I’m afraid that’s the best I can offer.”
“He won’t pay any attention to you,” Ida said. “That kid is bad news.”
“Do you know him personally?” Olivia asked.
“Oh yeah.” Ida pulled her chair closer to the table and lowered her voice. “My youngest boy, the one who lives in DC, had a run-in with Kurt a few years ago. My son found out his daughter was dating Kurt. She was only fourteen at the time. Kurt was twenty-three.”
“Did your son report this to the police?” Del asked.
“Ha!” Ida shook her head so vigorously that a lock of iron gray hair escaped from her hairnet. “That boy of mine was always a stubborn hothead, just like Kurt, only not as crazy. He threatened to go to the police if Kurt didn’t leave his little girl alone, but what he really wanted was to pound Kurt into the pavement.”
“Did he get that chance?” Del asked.
Ida shook her head. “Nah. Kurt’s a lot braver when he’s hiding behind that computer. Of course, my son is bigger than Kurt and has just as quick a temper.”
Olivia lifted a forkful of meatloaf and hesitated, puzzled. “Ida,” she asked, “do you have any idea what Kurt does for a living? He must have some means of support, but he seems to spend his time writing trashy blogs and posting insulting comments about anyone who crosses him.”
“Never thought about it,” Ida said. “Maybe people pay him to write some of that stuff.” She checked her watch. “Break’s over. Back to the salt mines. You two want anything else?” Her tone suggested they’d better answer in the negative. They complied. Ida shuffled off, muttering about aching feet and kids who want to put their mothers in nursing homes.
“Is it my imagination,” Olivia asked, “or is Ida even crankier than usual?”
“Everyone is crankier than usual,” Del said. “I’ve had a stream of complaints from Chatterley Heights citizens who want me to shut down Binnie’s blog. Apparently, she is now aiming lies and innuendos at everyone in town. Personally, I can’t bring myself to read the stuff.”
“I’ve been wondering if Binnie has finally lost her last ounce of sanity.” Olivia sipped her coffee and added more cream. “Mom’s current theory is that Binnie is upset because Ned has a serious boyfriend in DC, someone she met in one of her photojournalism classes. She might not return to Chatterley Heights.”
Del’s forkful of meatloaf paused halfway to his mouth. “Is it too much to hope that Binnie might move to DC to be closer to her niece?”
“In your dreams. Binnie would much rather stay here and make the rest of us miserable.”
“At least she has a sense of purpose,” Del said.
Olivia took another bite of meatloaf and closed her eyes to better appreciate the experience. Before she forgot everything except Pete’s meatloaf, she put down her empty fork, and asked, “While we’re on the subject of Binnie’s behavior, did you say anything to her specifically about that empty email with the attached photos? Mom said she got the same email and forwarded that to you, as well. As far as I can tell, Binnie seems to have backed off, at least for now.”
“Well, I made a stab at handling the situation before she sicced me on Sam,” Del said. “We’ll see if it has any effect. I told Binnie that sending those photos amounted to blackmail, and blackmail is illegal. Between you and me, if she simply posted the photos, there wouldn’t be much I could do. I’m assuming Lenora was, indeed, drunk?” When Olivia nodded reluctantly, he said, “Then Lenora put herself at risk of exposure. The law can’t protect her from herself. However, emailing the photos to you and Ellie could be interpreted as an attempt to coerce both of you into offering her something, like money or information, to keep her from making them public. Although my interpretation might be more convincing if Binnie had included a written demand along with the photos. By saying nothing, she left room to argue that she was merely sharing the photos with you, perhaps to warn you that Lenora has a drinking problem.”
“So do you think Binnie took your warning seriously?” Olivia asked.
Del shrugged. “Time will tell. If I were Herbie and Gwen, I’d try to get Lenora some help for her drinking.”
“I’ll talk to them, but I know they’ve tried,” Olivia said. “Herbie even gave up his wine cellar. Actually, Lenora accomplished that for him by consuming every bottle in it. And still she finds more. I’m amazed she discovered that bottle of sherry behind all the boxes and pans we store on top of our refrigerator.”
“Lenora is remarkably adept at scavenging,” Del said. “If she were here, she would pick at our plates of extra food until there was nothing left for us to take home.”
“It’s a survival skill.” As Olivia poured herself more coffee, she recalled how frequently Lenora had pilfered food from her companions’ plates while protesting that her appetite was too tiny to require a full meal. “Her husband, Bernie, was a well-known producer, but apparently they spent every dime he earned on lavish living.”
“I suppose it was good while it lasted.” Del reached toward Olivia’s plate. “If you aren’t going to finish that last bite of meatloaf, I could—”
Olivia’s left eyebrow arched in warning as she curved a protective left arm around her plate. Her right hand hovered over her silverware “I wouldn’t try it, if I were you. I have a fork, and I know how to use it.” Olivia became aware that conversation had ceased at two nearby tables. She slid her last morsel of meatloaf onto her fork and ate it.
“Well, that was fun,” Del said as he filled their two cups with coffee.
“Back to bleak reality,” Olivia said. “I still wonder why Binnie chose to send those photos only to Mom and me. It felt personal.”
Del’s mouth was full of potato, so he limited his response to a shrug.
“I guess I’ll have to wait and see.” Olivia dreaded the prospect. If those photos appeared online, might they hurt business? Maybe. On the other hand, a number of customers had witnessed Lenora’s behavior, and so far no one seemed to be boycotting The Gingerbread House. Olivia decided to worry about business later. She was nearly out of lunch hour and still had questions. “So according to rumor,” she said, “you and some crime lab folks have finally carted off those bones for analysis.”
“Word gets around fast,” Del said with a lopsided grin.
“I suppose eons will pass before the crime lab finds time to do . . . whatever it is they’ll do?” Nicely phrased, Livie. I need to pick up some professional jargon.
Del chuckled. “Yes, we took everything down to the dust. As for how long before forensic analysis gets under way, I’m guessing they will start at once. We found a few surprises.” Del drained the last of his coffee. “I might as well tell you. If it isn’t all over town now, it will be very soon. I wouldn’t want you to be the last to know.”
The diner was emptying fast, so Olivia assumed they weren’t likely to have an audience. However, Ida was heading toward their table bearing a stack of takeout boxes. “Pete wants me to box everything up for you. Easy for him. I ran myself ragged serving all those customers. You’d think they hadn’t eaten in a week. My feet hurt, and my back don’t feel so good neither. But don’t you dare tell that to my kids. They’ll use it as an excuse to shove me into an old folks home. I’ll go to an old folks home when I’m dead and not a minute before.” She sighed heavily as she began to fill the first container with Olivia’s leftovers.
Olivia grabbed the plate and to-go container away from Ida. “Sit down, for heaven’s sake. I’ll do that.” Olivia pushed the coffee carafe toward her. “Help us finish off this coffee. Pete won’t mind, and you know it.” She took a clean cup from a nearby table and handed it to Ida.
Del poured the steaming liquid into their three cups. As he passed around the sugar and cream, he asked, “I suppose both of you intend to take this opportunity to pump me for privileged information?”
“Good idea,” Ida said. “First off, I’d like to know if it’s true there was more in that wall than poor Kenny Vayle. I heard you found two, maybe three heads, plus a big pile of arm and leg bones, all sorts of sizes. So what was going on in that old flophouse? Some sort of devil worship? Maybe one of those serial killers we keep seeing on television?”
Olivia started to laugh, then stifled the urge when she saw the serious look on Del’s face. Ida saw it, too. “I thought so.” She crossed her arms over her skinny chest and nodded smugly.
Del topped off his coffee and added more cream. He chewed a forkful of apple pie, then another. To Olivia, Del’s silence suggested there might be some truth to Ida’s wild speculation. Olivia sipped her own coffee and waited for him to decide how much information to reveal with Ida present. She could always try to get more details out of him later.
Ida planted her elbows on the table and leaned in, as if she were about to share a secret. “When I was a girl,” she said, “my mama told me a story about that old boarding house. Of course, it was in better shape back then, but the Great Depression had already started to wear the place down before I was born. Mama told me that men down on their luck would go out looking for work during the day. Once it got dark, they’d gather in that boarding house and sleep on the floor, sometimes ten or more to a room. Mama used to say the place was haunted, too. When she was twelve or so, she and her brothers would sneak out after bedtime and hide in the bushes around that building. They’d peek through the windows to see what was going on inside.” Ida leaned in even closer and lowered her voice. “One hot summer night they heard screams coming from one of the rooms on the top floor. I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s bones in every one of those rooms.”
Olivia realized she’d been holding her breath.
Ida glanced up at Pete’s Audubon wall clock. “Well, I can’t sit around gossiping all day. I’ve got too much to do before we have to get ready for the dinner shift. Pete wants me to run some errands.” She lumbered to her feet, grabbed her coat off the nearby rack, and shuffled toward the diner door without clearing the table.
“Well, well,” Olivia said, once the door had shut behind Ida. “That was an interesting story. Although I doubt those screams of agony came from poor Kenny Vayle, given he hadn’t been born yet. Oh, and by the way, congratulations. You managed to avoid telling Ida anything about what you actually discovered.”
Del barely smiled. He stared toward the diner’s front window as Ida shuffled past. Olivia felt a prick of concern. “Del? Are you feeling all right?”
Del leaned against the back of his chair, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Livie, if you were to hazard a guess, would you say that Ida made up that story about her mother hearing screams from the second floor of the boarding house?”
“I’m not sure my guess would be worth the hazard,” Olivia said. “I don’t agree with Ida’s kids that she is ready for the old folks home, but she is in her mid-seventies. She heard that story from her mother many decades ago, so she might be misremembering or embellishing. Besides, Ida’s mother might have fabricated the entire story simply to entertain her young daughter. Is it important?”
“Maybe.” Del went silent again.
“Del, you’re driving me nuts. I can’t stand the suspense. What are you not telling me?”
Del shifted his chair closer to hers. “You have to promise me, Livie . . . Promise you’ll keep this to yourself at least until tomorrow. I may have more information then. The crime lab folks intend to work all night, if that’s what it takes.”
“The crime lab . . . ?” Olivia slumped down in her seat. “Yes, all right, I promise. We’ll be busy working at the store this afternoon, and Maddie can bake alone tonight, if that’s what it takes for me to keep my mouth shut.”
Del scanned the nearly empty diner and seemed satisfied he wouldn’t be overheard. Lowering his voice, he said, “When the crime lab removed those bones from the boarding house wall, they found a couple surprises underneath.”
“Surprises? Like what? Was there a weapon?”
Del shook his head and leaned closer to Olivia. “The first surprise is right up your alley. In fact, we’ll want to draw upon your expertise, as well as Anita’s.”
“Anita? Are you saying you found some antique cookie cutters while you were removing those bones?” Anita Rambert ran an antiques mall and was a leading local expert on vintage and antique cookie cutters. Olivia felt a shiver of anticipation. “Please, I beg of you, let me see them before Anita does. She’ll know more about their worth, but I’ll be more excited.”
Del’s smile came and went in a flash. “I’ll take it under advisement,” he said. “There was a second surprise, as well . . . a more sobering one.”
Olivia held her breath as Del shifted his chair closer to hers. “We found more remains.”
For an instant, Olivia wondered if Del might be setting her up for a joke. He’d never played such a trick on her before, but . . . No, the look in his eyes was serious, even somber. However, she tamped down on her excitement and asked, calmly, “When you say remains, do you mean . . . ?”
“Human bones. To be specific, an extra skeleton. There were two bodies in that wall. And both were human.” Del sank against the back of his chair as if he’d just finished running a marathon.
“Whoa,” Olivia whispered. “Did they find any clues as to whose remains they might be?”
Del shrugged one shoulder. “We’re not sure. They believe the extra skeleton to be older than the bones presumed to have belonged to Kenny Vayle.”
“How much older?” Olivia asked.
“Yet to be determined.”
“This case just gets more and more intriguing,” Olivia whispered. “I don’t suppose there was another cookie cutter necklace.”
Del shook his head. “But we did discover something else. “The second skull had what looked to be a bullet hole in it.”
“Wow.” Olivia touched his arm. “Del, do you realize how difficult it will be for me to keep this from Maddie?”
“Nevertheless,” Del said. “If it would help, I could put you in protective custody.”
“It may come to that.”
Chapter Sixteen
Following lunch with Del, Olivia hurried back to The Gingerbread House, distracted by her growing list of questions about the startling information he had revealed to her. The discovery of a second skeleton—with a bullet hole in the skull, no less—intrigued her. Olivia salivated at the thought of those antique cookie cutters the forensic team had uncovered. But she had promised Del to keep that information secret, at least for a while. It wouldn’t be easy. Surely Maddie would notice the sparkle in her eyes. However, a promise was a promise, and Olivia was touched by Del’s willingness, finally, to trust her with inside information about a murder investigation. She wouldn’t break her word, even if she had to glue her mouth shut and communicate through sign language. If only she knew sign language . . .
It was nearly one-thirty p.m. by the time Olivia climbed the steps up to her front porch. Once inside, she paused in the foyer to compose herself before entering The Gingerbread House. Maddie might sense her excitement, so Olivia tried to focus on a depressing topic, like the coming of winter. She envisioned short days, frigid winds, cold and flu viruses . . . but soon her thoughts drifted to holiday baking, colorful decorations, and carols. Well, there was always Del’s offer of protective custody.
Olivia took a deep breath and grabbed the doorknob. It didn’t turn. She stepped back to get a look in the front window and realized the heavy curtain was drawn shut. That curtain should be open. Why would The Gingerbread House be closed up tight at one-thirty on a Wednesday afternoon?
Olivia dug into her jacket pocket for her key. When she unlocked the front door, she found the foyer empty and the Gingerbread House door shut. She turned the knob. It, too, was locked. There was no note on the door. Her heart pounding, she slid her key into the lock, opened the door, and quickly scanned the sales floor. There was no sign of life. Spunky’s chair by the window was empty.
“Spunky?” Olivia’s voice squeaked. She took a deep breath to quell her anxiety. “Spunks, are you there, boy?” The little guy came trotting out of the cookbook nook to greet her as if nothing were wrong. Once she realized Spunky wasn’t upset, Olivia’s heart rate began to drop closer to normal. She scooped the little Yorkie into her arms, and said, “Hey, Spunks, what’s up around here? Are we in an alternate universe? Where is everyone?”
Spunky launched a volley of yaps, which revived Olivia’s apprehension. “Hey, slow down, kiddo. What’s going on here? Where’s Maddie?” Spunky licked her face. She tucked his small, wriggling body under her arm and strode toward the kitchen door. As she reached for the knob, the door opened. Bertha’s plump, worried face peeked out.
“Oh, thank goodness.” Bertha’s face disappeared, and Olivia heard her say, “Livie is finally back. What? Oh, of course.” The door opened wide, and Bertha pulled Olivia into the kitchen. Spunky squirmed eagerly as he entered forbidden territory. “I’m so sorry I didn’t hear you arrive, Livie,” Bertha said. “I guess we were all talking at once.”
Olivia paused to take stock of the scene in the crowded kitchen. Her mother, her legs tucked under her petite body, occupied one of the two kitchen chairs. Ellie’s husband, Allan, stood next to his wife’s chair, a protective hand on her shoulder. The other chair had been pushed back from the table, perhaps when Bertha left to find out why Spunky had been yapping. Maddie sat on the kitchen counter, swinging her legs and leaning against her lanky husband, Lucas Ashford.
