Olivia laughed for the first time in days. “Why does that not surprise me. At least the list doesn’t scream out my brother’s name. Except for the Duesenberg, of course.”
“I’m betting someone besides Jason had a reason for taking the Duesenberg,” Maddie said. “And we’ll find out what it is. So what’s next, and does it involve cookies?”
“Good idea,” Olivia said. “I need to focus.” Olivia dimmed the store lights and gave Spunky a quick pat on the head. His tail flapped once. “You guard the store, Spunks. Maddie and I have work to do.” Spunky closed his eyes as Olivia massaged his ears. When she let go, he circled his bed and sank down to sleep.
“That’s one pooped pup,” Maddie said.
“He had an exciting evening.” Olivia led the way into the kitchen and flipped on the lights. “Now, in answer to your question, next we discuss suspects other than Jason. And yes, we need to whip up a batch of cookies for later.”
“Excellent,” Maddie said, reaching for the trusty Artisan stand mixer. “Do we have time to make a new batch of dough, or should I see what’s left in the freezer?”
“Better check the freezer. I’ll need the cookies for later today when I visit Heather Irwin. If she’s back at work, I should bring extra cookies for her assistants and for library patrons. See if there are any bookish shapes in the freezer. I’ll help in a sec, as soon as I wash up.” Olivia shut herself inside the little bathroom at the back of the kitchen. Seeing herself in the mirror made her glad she kept a few emergency items in the medicine cabinet. She washed her face before tackling her hair. Sun exposure had lightened the auburn color, while a hard night of sleep had pushed up a clump in back and flattened one side. Olivia was not vain, but she had her pride. She would not be seen in public with smashed and clumped-up hair. Especially not by Del. She found a tiny bottle of hotel shampoo in the cabinet and washed her hair in the sink. Finally, she applied lightly tinted sunblock; the radio had promised another hot, sunny day. A swipe of mascara, advertised not to run, and she was ready.
When Olivia reappeared in the kitchen, Maddie had laid out two dozen cookies to defrost on racks. Maddie looked up from her mixer and said, “Good, you washed your hair. I didn’t want to say anything, but you looked like a Dust Bowl survivor.”
“Thanks ever so.”
“No charge.” Maddie swept her arm toward the defrosting cookies. “Those are the bookiest shapes I could find. I even found a few actual book shapes. Also a lion—there’s always a lion or two outside big, old libraries—plus some gingerbread house shapes that look sort of like the Chatterley Heights Library. Then we have an A, a B, and a C; gingerbread boys and girls; a few cats—”
“Cats?”
“You know, cats and bookstores, cats and mystery stories.... Work with me, Livie.”
“Okay, just asking. Looks fine. Are you going to be using the mixer right away?”
“I need about ten minutes of wild imagining,” Maddie said, “before I settle on the icing colors. Why?”
“I want to make a couple phone calls.” Olivia glanced at the kitchen clock. “Seven thirty. Good, there’s time. By the way, I called Bertha last night. She’ll be here at eight forty-five to help you open.”
“And you will be . . . ?”
“With luck, I’ll be in jail, wrenching information out of that brother of mine.”
“You might want to start with bribery,” Maddie said as she stood on tiptoe to retrieve a box from the top of the refrigerator. “We have about half a dozen leftover baby shower cookies. Well, not exactly leftover; I lost count and made extras. I’m not good with numbers, so sue me.”
“Luckily, you always seem to err on the side of too many,” Olivia said. “I’ll take them all, thanks.” She settled at the kitchen phone with a pen and pad. Her hand on the receiver, she gathered her thoughts before dialing the police station. Del answered on the first ring.
“Del, it’s me. I have a favor to ask, only you can’t say no. I need to talk to my brother. Alone. I won’t hurt him, I promise.”
Del cleared his throat and hesitated. Never a good sign.
“Did I mention I’m bringing cookies?” Olivia heard a faint chuckle. A better sign.
After another moment of silence, Del said, “I’m thinking. It sounds like you want to ask Jason some questions you don’t want me to know answers to, right? Don’t answer that. He probably won’t talk, but if you could convince him to . . . Time is getting short, Livie. I’ve been trying to keep him here while the investigation proceeds, but the Office of the State’s Attorney is making noises about transferring Jason to the Circuit Court for arraignment. I’ve held them off for about as long as I can. Like I told you earlier, the process moves much faster once we have a confession.”
“I know.” Olivia fought back tears of despair. “Del, please let me talk to him alone. I think I can get through to him.”
“Okay, but bring Mr. Willard again. If Jason has his attorney present, I can stay out of the picture without having to explain myself to the State’s Attorney. Remember, even if Jason recants his confession, there might still be a trial, and I’d be called upon to testify. Unless he is cleared first, that is.”
“I understand. Thanks, Del.”
“Don’t thank me. Get Jason to talk.”
Olivia hung up and immediately dialed Mr. Willard’s office. He agreed to meet at the police station at eight thirty before visiting Jason again. When that was settled, she called her mother’s cell.
“Mom, I’m glad I caught you. Do you have a few minutes, or are you off to something or other?”
“I’m skipping many of my something-or-others,” Ellie said. “I’m too upset about Jason. I guess yoga might help, but honestly, I don’t think I could focus. Do you have one of your lovely plans, Livie? Is there any way you could convince Jason to talk to me?”
Once again, Olivia had to swallow her fears, this time for her mother. “I’m going to give it my best shot, Mom, I promise. Right now, you can help most by dredging your mind for some information. I’m still finding my way around after living in Baltimore for so long, so I need to pick your brain.”
“Of course, dear. Aything I can offer.”
“Thanks, Mom. First, have you any idea where Raoul lives? In town somewhere, or does he commute?”
“Raoul? He lives above the studio. Remember I told you about the two sisters who owned the building when it was a dress shop? When they bought the building, they had the upstairs renovated as a two-bedroom apartment, where they lived for more than thirty years. Did you know that they died within a week of each other? It was so—”
“Mom . . .”
“I’m sorry, I guess sometimes I want to escape to happier days.”
“I know, Mom. It’s going to get better, I promise. Meanwhile, you are my best source of information about all things Chatterley Heights. Do you happen to know who owns the dance studio building now?”
“Yes, but why . . . ? Never mind, I’m wasting time. The dance studio is owned by the Chatterley Heights Management and Rental Company. It is called M & R Company for short. Continue.”
If her mother was making such a determined effort to stay on topic, she must be frantic with worry. “Where is this company, and who owns it?”
“It’s west of the town square,” Ellie said, “on Apple Blossom Road. I’m not sure of the exact address.”
“That’s okay. I’m looking it up on my laptop.”
“As for the owner, I believe she’s a former high school classmate of yours. She’s divorced now, and I think she went back to her own name, as you did. Her name is Con—”