The hinges creaked as Olivia swung the stall door open. Geez, could this get more melodramatic? She poked her head inside far enough to see one back corner, which she illuminated with her flashlight. What she saw explained the stale coffee smell—a landslide of paper coffee cups, some scrunched, others tossed with coffee still in them. Next to the pile stood one lone ceramic cup with its own brewing attachment. A pile of coffee grounds had been dumped next to it. Since the barn had no obvious source of electricity, the cup must have been brought from somewhere nearby. Heather’s house, perhaps? Or there might be another farmhouse through the trees, if the barn had once belonged with another property.
Olivia stepped inside the stall and aimed her flashlight at the other back corner of the stall, where a blanket was spread over a lumpy pile. Olivia felt more curious than leery; she’d read enough police procedurals to know that her nose would probably have told her by now if the blanket hid a body. She’d already left her fingerprints all over the place, so she lifted a corner of the blanket and took a peek. Her flashlight revealed what looked like a collection of belongings. By now, she’d forgotten about the time. She gently peeled the blanket back.
“My, my, my,” Olivia whispered. “What have we here?” She’d expected to see personal items, such as worn, used clothing, shoes, maybe a backpack. What she found was not what one would expect a homeless person to carry . . . unless that person was also a thief.
Olivia didn’t touch anything, since it was unlikely the thief had bothered to clean off fingerprints. She settled on her knees and played her light around the pile. She saw a man’s dress shirt with the tag still on it. The only store in town that carried such an expensive line of men’s clothing was Fred’s. A silky pink negligee with lace on the bodice might have come from Lady Chatterley’s. A bottle of eighteen-year-old Glenlivet scotch, its seal broken, rested inside a silver wine bucket with Bon Vivant etched across the front. This was no ordinary thief. Stealing expensive scotch required skill, as did swiping a wine bucket from an upscale restaurant. There was more, but Olivia didn’t dare move anything.
As she reached to replace the blanket, Olivia spotted a splotch of red through an opening deeper inside the pile, behind the silver bucket. Her light didn’t reach it, but even in shadow the red looked too bright for blood. She inched closer for a better look. The object looked round with an indentation in the middle, from which a bit of brown protruded. For some reason, the shape reminded Olivia of a decorated cookie. It looked so familiar, as if she’d seen it before.
A stem. Of course. The brown bit was a stem protruding from the red flesh of an apple. No, not an apple. A tomato. Olivia knew where she had seen the object before. She didn’t have to dig it out of the pile to know that the tomato decorated the handle of a knife sharp enough to peel an apple . . . or kill a man. The knife was part of a four-piece set owned by Charlene Critch.
Olivia dropped the blanket and ran from the barn, leaving behind the last three folding chairs.
“I’m telling you, Del, I didn’t need to see the whole thing to know it was a knife from Charlene’s set.”
“You aren’t driving, are you?” Del sounded worried.
“Oh, honestly, I have one little accident and suddenly I’m a menace to myself and others. All right, fine, I’ll pull over. Don’t hang up.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Olivia found a gravel turnaround and shifted into park. “Okay, here’s what I think,” she said. “Geoffrey King must have stolen the knife, probably as a sort of veiled threat to Charlene. I mean, from what I’ve heard about him, he resented losing his rich wife, so it makes sense he’d steal whatever he could from her. Especially if he could make her fearful that he might use one of those knives to hurt her or her brother.”
“Did you see anything that directly connected the items to Geoffrey King?”
“Who else would go around Chatterley Heights stealing expensive items? That had to be King’s stash. Besides, I’m sure there’s DNA and fingerprints all over the place.” Olivia heard a car door slam in the background. “You don’t intend to drive while we’re talking, do you?”
“I’m allowed,” Del said. “Or I could hang up, if that would make you more comfortable.”
“Ah, but then you wouldn’t hear the rest of my report.” Olivia told him everything else she could remember, including the presence of a ceramic cup used to brew fresh coffee. “Maybe King stole the cup from Charlene, too. Or he must have found a way into Heather’s house. Heather seems too cautious to hand a house key to someone she just met. Anyway, from the looks of that stall, King was seriously hooked on coffee.”
Del said, “King might have offered to do some handyman work around the house so Heather would give him a key during the day.”
“Geoffrey King? Handyman work? Wouldn’t Heather get suspicious when nothing got done? She’s quiet, but she isn’t dense. And wouldn’t she have noticed him coming and going from her barn? From the pile of paper coffee cups, he could easily have spent a couple of weeks holed up in that barn. Del, was one of those knives used to kill King?”
Del didn’t answer.
Olivia switched on her ignition. “I intend to drive again, so I’d better hang up or you’ll have me arrested. Be considerate when you get to Heather’s place. She has some awful bug, so don’t scare her with sirens. The house was dark when I left. She probably knocked herself out with cold medication, and she is undoubtedly contagious. If you give me whatever bug she’s got, I’ll have to kill you.”
“Understood. Just in case, I’ll wear a surgical mask when we go out to dinner on Friday.”
“Friday . . . ?” Olivia began. But Del’s cell had gone dead.
It was six p.m. by the time Olivia reached the turn-in for the short drive leading to Gwen and Herbie Tucker’s house. Only one hour to go before baby shower time. Her anxiety eased when she saw a little yellow Volkswagen and a red truck parked side-by-side near the side entrance. Gwen and Herbie owned the truck, so Herbie must have found someone to watch over the animals still residing at the Chatterley Paws shelter in town. He and Gwen were in the process of moving their furry charges to the renovated barn on their property. Maddie owned the yellow VW, which meant she’d finished the decorated cookie order in record time.
Maddie emerged from the side entrance and sprinted over to Olivia’s car. “I’m to help you carry folding chairs,” she said. “Where have you been so long? Gwen is frantic. I’m afraid that baby will pop just to get some rest. Thank goodness Gwen invited her obstetrician.” Maddie hauled three chairs from the PT Cruiser’s trunk.
Olivia lifted out two more chairs. “Don’t run off,” she said. “I’ve got a lot to tell you about why I was late getting back.”
Maddie’s eyes widened. “About the murder? Speak at once.”
“Probably about the victim, anyway. Also, I have a plan for us, so we’ll be multitasking this evening.”
“Goody,” Maddie said. “I am the queen of multitasking.”
While they carried folding chairs into the house, Olivia gave Maddie a quick, quiet summary of Ida’s story of the dancing ghost, the stolen items she’d found in Heather’s barn, her conversation with Del, and the information she hoped the two of them could gather while they helped host the Tucker baby shower.
“Our timing is exquisite,” Maddie said. “There’s nothing like decorated cookies to quell suspicions and loosen lips.”