Ellie dragged an office chair behind Jason and pushed him into it. She placed her hands on his thin shoulders and kissed him on the top of the head. “We’ll get you out of this if I have to stage a one-woman sit-in.”
“She’d do it, too,” Olivia said to Del. “She was a terror in the late sixties and early seventies.”
“She’s still a terror,” Del said lightly. “Now let me make that call.” He motioned across the room to Cody to take Jason back to his cell, then retreated into his private office and closed the door.
Once Jason had been led away, Ellie wilted into the visitor’s chair and curled into a ball. Olivia stepped outside the building and dialed Maddie’s cell.
“Livie, what’s going on? I’ve been hearing all sorts of rumors.”
Olivia filled her in on Jason’s situation and the rest of her visit to the dance studio. “I need more information about Raoul and this mysterious dancing companion of his. With all those costumes in her closet, she must have been a professional ballerina.”
“She still dances beautifully,” Maddie said. “Maybe whatever caused her scar didn’t affect her ability or skill, but she was so traumatized she withdrew from the public eye. If that’s what happened, maybe I could find something online about it. I wish we knew her name.”
“About that,” Olivia said. “I did find out Raoul’s last name from Constance. Which reminds me, why didn’t someone tell me Constance is in a wheelchair?”
“Thought you knew. Honestly, I think city life destroyed your knack for gossip. You’ve been back in town over a year now. How long does it take to catch up? Anyway, the store’s getting busy again. Tell me Raoul’s last name.”
“Raoul Larssen.” Olivia waited until Maddie’s laughter subsided before she spelled it out. “See what you can find on the Internet and call as soon as you have something.”
“What are you going to do?” Maddie asked.
“I’ll stay here until we hear from the State’s Attorney. Whatever she decides, we have to move fast if we’re going to save Jason’s neck. I’ll stop by to pick up the cookies for Heather. I’m hoping she has some secrets to share. How’s Spunky?”
“Lording it over the store. We’ll have to order more Yorkshire terrier cookie cutters. Customers keep buying them as soon as they meet that little guy.”
“Yeah, he’s a born sales-pup.” Olivia checked her watch. Past noon already. She’d meant to be back in The Gingerbread House for the whole afternoon. “Do you have plans for this evening?”
“No plans.”
The subtle change in Maddie’s voice told Olivia that all had not healed between her and Lucas. It was about time to be an interfering friend. “Good. We’ll need the evening to bake and research and plan.”
“Your mom is with Jason, back in his cell,” Del said when Olivia returned. “I talked the State’s Attorney into backing off for a bit. She admitted Charlene and Charlie Critch both have O-positive blood, but she figured Jason’s confession was the clincher. I sympathized with the budget cuts she’s gotten socked with lately and pointed out that Jason would be one more prisoner in an overpopulated holding cell. I offered to do more legwork for her. However, if we don’t have anything by Saturday morning, she’s sending officers to transport Jason. He’s already on the arraignment schedule for Monday morning.”
“A day and a half. At least that’s something,” Olivia said.
“And, Livie, when I said ‘us,’ I meant Cody and me. You are not to get involved this time. Yes, I know you’ve been helpful, but this could get dangerous. So stay out of this. Do you hear me?”
“Not a word.”
“Livie, listen—”
“If I want to put myself in danger to help my brother, I have that right.”
“You’re putting Maddie in danger, too. Heck, last time you put Spunky in danger.”
“Spunky will be staying home this time.”
The front door of the police station opened and the two officers entered, looking cheerful and well fed. Del put his face close to Olivia’s, lowered his voice, and said, “If you get yourself or anyone else injured, I’ll . . . I’ll . . .”
An angry retort flashed through Olivia’s mind. She repressed it, spun around, and stalked out of the police station into sweltering heat.
Chapter Sixteen
Armed with a Gingerbread House cookie box in one hand and a cookie in the other, Olivia set out for the Chatterley Heights Library and a chat with Heather Irwin, Head Librarian. The library was located at the opposite corner of the town square, so the shortest route was through the park. Olivia was relieved to see that the clue-hunting murder-gawkers had finally given up.
Del’s order to her not to try to help her own brother had left Olivia feeling both irritable and guilty. After all, Del had saved Jason from being dragged off in shackles. She was grateful for that. On the other hand, he had practically threatened her. She’d had no choice but to walk out on him.
Let it go, Livie. Jason needs you.
Enjoying the soft cushion of grass, Olivia zigzagged from one shade tree to the next. Her cranky mood began to improve. It didn’t hurt that she was munching on a violet cookie shaped like a book, entitled Purple Prose.
The Chatterley Heights Public Library was housed in a small brick building next to the post office. A flower box decorated a square window near the front door. The first thing Olivia noticed was that the petunias were fried. Heather kept those flowers watered with the anxious concern of a new mother. She must be quite ill.
As Olivia entered the library, a bell dinged over the door. Two wide-eyed young faces turned to her, at first with hope, then with despair. High school girls, probably, working a summer job to earn money for college. The reason for their despair became evident at once. Everywhere she looked, Olivia saw unshelved books teetering in stacks up to ten high. Without provocation, one stack collapsed and several books slid off a table. One of the girls, a petite redhead, tried to stem the flow and managed to rescue one book.
“So,” Olivia said, “I gather Heather is still home sick?”
The second assistant, a thin girl with bowed shoulders, gave her a half-nod. Olivia took this as an exhausted yes. “I’m sure she’ll be back soon,” Olivia said. When this didn’t seem to cheer the girls, she opened her box of cookies. “You two look like you need a pick-me-up.” She held the box out to them. “Have a cookie.”
Olivia could feel the air lighten, such was the power of Maddie’s cookies. Taking turns, the girls chose one cookie each. Olivia noticed that neither selected a book shape. “I’ll go check on Heather at home,” she said. On her way out, she left four more cookies.
Heather Irwin’s farmhouse was as dark as it had been when Olivia found the stash of stolen items in one of the barns. She hesitated at the front door, worried that Heather might be bedridden. Maybe she shouldn’t be disturbed. Or maybe she should be moved to a hospital soon.
Olivia rang the doorbell and heard it reverberate inside the house. She waited, listening for the sound of a voice or feet clumping down the stairs. She tried to turn the knob and found the door securely locked. She rang the doorbell again, longer this time. Olivia checked her watch, waited, checked again. A seed of concern took root and flowered into full-blown worry. Heather might be so ill she couldn’t get out of bed. Or worse. Olivia considered calling Del; this might be an emergency.
Get a grip, Livie. Maybe Heather was out in her barn, feeding her horse and her collection of barn cats. She might even now be on her way in to work, although Olivia thought she would have recognized Heather’s truck on the road. Heather’s truck. Olivia deposited her box of cookies on the front seat of her own car before walking around to the back of the house. The garage door was open, revealing Heather’s green pick-up inside. Olivia put her hand on the hood; the engine was cold.