Olivia eased the kitchen door open wider to reveal a row of cabinets along the wall. No one was in sight, but now she could hear a faint shuffling sound. She inched the door farther, a millimeter at a time.
“Damn.” The whispered curse dripped venom yet was so soft that Olivia couldn’t tell whether the voice was male or female. If she could only get a glimpse of a foot or a shoulder . . .
“I’ll kill her.” This time the voice sounded male, but Olivia didn’t recognize it.
A crash, followed by the tinkling of broken glass, startled Olivia into backing away from the kitchen door too quickly. The door swung toward her, then back into the kitchen. Now Olivia was the one cursing to herself. She’d announced her presence to the intruder. He would either run away or barge through the door toward her, and it would happen fast.
Olivia backed aside from the swinging door while she flipped open her cell phone. She had the police department on speed dial, so she didn’t bother with 911. When the kitchen door didn’t move, she assumed the intruder had escaped out the back. By the first ring, Olivia had crossed the empty kitchen, glass crunching beneath her feet. She ran out the open door in time to see a man’s back disappear into a line of arborvitae.
“Chatterley Heights Police Department. Sheriff Jenkins speaking.”
It was the voice Olivia had hoped to hear. “Del, it’s me. There’s been a break-in at The Vegetable Plate. I just saw a man run through the back yard, heading north.”
“On my way,” Del said. “Can you describe the guy?”
“I only saw his back from a distance, but he looked and moved like a fairly young man. He was tall, I’d say, and slender, athletic. Dark hair. Jeans and a blue T-shirt.”
“How dark was his hair? How long was it? Was it shaggy? Neatly cut?”
Olivia closed her eyes and remembered the man’s hair lifting as he ran. “Dark brown, I’d say, not black. Professionally trimmed. It wasn’t really short, but not long and shaggy, either.”
“Nothing else?”
“Sorry.”
“Okay, I’ll send out an APB and be there as soon as possible. You stay in The Gingerbread House and I’ll come talk to you later.”
“Del, I’m—”
“I mean it, Livie. Sit this one out, okay?” The sheriff’s cell phone clicked off.
Too late for that. Olivia figured it would take Del no more than a few minutes to realize she couldn’t have seen the intruder run off if she’d been in The Gingerbread House—she didn’t have a view of Charlene’s back yard. Del would be irritated, but so be it. The two of them had been tiptoeing around each other in an almost-relationship since the previous spring, when Olivia had become embroiled in the investigation of her dear friend Clarisse’s death. She knew his concern for her was real, but could she help it if crime popped up right next door?
On her way back through The Vegetable Plate kitchen, Olivia left cabinet doors hanging and tried to avoid the broken glass. She’d already tampered enough with the scene, though for a good cause. She didn’t envy Charlene having to clean up the mess. Maybe she and Maddie could lend a hand; it might improve their relationship with her.
“OH. MY. GOD.” Charlene’s voice, petulant at the best of times, punched the air with such force that Olivia stepped backward. She crunched a pile of glass shards loud enough to be heard through the closed kitchen door. “What was that?” Charlene shrieked. “Oh my god, he’s still here.”
“Knock it off, Charlene, it’s probably Livie.” The swinging door opened, and Maddie appeared. “Wow.” She took in the emptied cupboards and broken glass. “Who won?”
Charlene pushed past Maddie. “Oh my God, did you make this mess?”
“Of course not.” Olivia glanced down at her feet, planted amid the remains of what might have been pricey water goblets. “I thought I saw an intruder in your store, and I came over to investigate. He was going through your cupboards, so I assume he’s also the one who tossed your glassware on the floor.” She heard the irritation in her own voice and banished all thought of helping Charlene with the cleanup.
“Well, you certainly didn’t try to save anything, did you. And my ‘glassware’ was crystal. Do you have any idea how much those goblets were worth? No, of course you don’t.”
It was common knowledge that Olivia had recently inherited an enviable sum of money, at least for the average person, plus an even more enviable collection of vintage cookie cutters, so it struck her that Charlene’s family must be quite well off. Perhaps the man who broke into The Vegetable Plate was aware of that.
“Hey,” Maddie said. “You have no right to talk to Livie that way. She was trying to help, not that you care.”
“Well, it looks to me like she made things worse by interfering.”
“In fact,” Olivia said, “I was able to call the sheriff and give him a partial description of the intruder, as well as his direction when he took off. He was tall and slender with dark brown hair. Does that sound like anyone you know?”
As always, Charlene had applied her makeup with skill and attention to detail, but it couldn’t hide a sudden shift in her emotions. She hugged her arms around her slender rib cage and dug her manicured fingernails into the bare flesh of her upper arms.
“Charlene? You know who did this, don’t you?” Olivia pointed toward the piles of glass, sparkling as they caught the overhead light. “Was that man looking for something in particular? Because he didn’t have to trash your belongings. That was done with anger. It was personal.” She reached toward Charlene’s shoulder.
Charlene pulled back. “I don’t know anyone who would do this to me.” She lifted her chin. “At least, not a man. A jealous woman, maybe, but not a man. Anyway, I don’t believe you really saw anyone. You were probably hallucinating. A sugar high will do that.”
With a derisive snort, Maddie said, “Hah! And what were you on when you threw those stupid flyers all over our lawn?”
“Are you deaf? I told you a hundred times on the way over, I did not throw those flyers on your silly lawn. Although whoever did it deserves a medal.”
Maddie’s freckled cheeks flushed. “What the heck is that supposed to mean?”
“You know perfectly well you are killing innocent people with all that sugar you’re stuffing down their throats. You should be arrested.”
“Well, at least our customers actually enjoy what we offer. All you do is manipulate people with fear and guilt.”
“Murderer!”
“Zealot!”
“Go to your rooms, both of you!” Maddie and Charlene turned to stare at Olivia, who had stunned them and herself by shouting.
“Is that you, Livie?” Sheriff Del Jenkins called from inside the store. Moments later, he appeared at the kitchen door, showing no sign that he had heard a squabble. With a grim smile at Olivia, Del said, “Why am I not surprised to find you still here.” When no one spoke, he added, “Charlene, Maddie, any chance I can get past you and into the kitchen, so I can do my job?”
“Sorry,” Maddie said. “Of course you can. We were about to call a truce and break for coffee. Want some?”
“Tea,” Charlene said. “Coffee is bad for the blood pressure. I only drink herbal tea. No sugar, of course.”
Olivia shot a warning glance in Maddie’s direction. Aside from a surreptitious rolling of her eyes, Maddie allowed Charlene’s insistence on sugarless tea to go unchallenged.
As for Charlene, the fight had gone out of her. Her shoulders slumped as she glanced into her ruined kitchen. “I guess we’ll have to use the little microwave I keep in the store to make tea. I’ll get some water from the bathroom.”