“Done.”
“And I want you to convince the other stores in town to do the same.”
“Done and done.”
Chapter Twenty-One
As soon as Olivia locked the front door of The Gingerbread House at six p.m., her heart began to creep up her throat. Now that it was about to unfold, her plan to prove her brother’s innocence felt flimsy and foolish. If only she had more time to think it out....
“You seem jumpy, dear,” Ellie said from behind Olivia’s back, which made her jump. Ellie laughed. “I know you’re having second thoughts about this evening,” she said, “but really, what other choice do we have?”
“You sure know how to boost my confidence,” Olivia said.
“Too much confidence can be dangerous.” A worry wrinkle between Ellie’s eyebrows betrayed her own unease. “I believe I’ll take five minutes to center myself,” she said.
As her mother drifted toward the cookbook nook, Olivia straightened her spine and headed for the kitchen. She opened the door and heard Bertha’s voice say, “You’ll slice your own arm off.” The prediction was delivered with parental force.
Sounding snappish, Maddie said, “Would you rather be shot down like a . . . like a squirrel?” She held a chef’s knife in one hand and a cucumber in the other. Her hair resembled a brush fire.
Olivia looked from one tight face to the other and asked, “Am I missing something?”
“Okay, you settle this,” Maddie said, waving her knife in the air. “We’ve invited a bunch of murder suspects to our closed store. That might be safe in mystery movies, but in real life things could get messy. And dangerous. I think we should be armed.”
“And I think that would only make the situation more dangerous,” Bertha said, planting her fists on her slimming yet still ample hips.
If we were doing this for anyone but Jason . . . “Frankly,” Olivia said, “right now I’m scared of both of you. If we greet our guests with weapons, they will turn tail and run. I might join them.”
“But where’s our backup? Are we supposed to do this alone?” Maddie pointed her knife at Bertha and Olivia for emphasis.
“Maddie, please, put down that knife. You’re knocking years off my life expectancy. I agree with Bertha, no good can come of arming ourselves. Del and Cody will be here soon, I know they will.” I hope they will.
Maddie checked the kitchen clock. “It is six fifteen. Our murder suspects will begin arriving in fifteen minutes. What are we supposed to do, pelt them with ballerina cookies?”
“If they even show up,” Bertha said.
Behind Olivia, the kitchen door opened, and Ellie’s voice, serene with an edge, said, “I am newly re-centered, and I intend to stay that way. Need I say more?” Her audience of three shook their heads in chastened unison. “Good,” Ellie said. “Now, I hear noises outside the alley door. I predict our reinforcements have arrived.”
Olivia swung open the door on the first knock. Mr. Willard entered first. He smiled at Bertha, who rushed to him and threw herself into his arms. It was a testament to his wiry strength that he didn’t fall over. “Now dearest,” he said, “I couldn’t stay home and let you face this evening alone. Besides, someone might need an attorney.”
Sheriff Del and Deputy Sheriff Cody followed, each grasping one of Jason’s upper arms. Ellie shed her serenity and ran to her son.
Lucas Ashford brought up the rear. He wore jeans and a crisp blue T-shirt that revealed well-developed muscles. When he saw Maddie, his worried look softened into a tentative, bashful smile.
“Hey,” Maddie said.
“Hey, yourself.” Lucas edged to her side through the crowded kitchen. “I got worried.”
“Worried is good.” Maddie leaned against him. “So,” she said, looking toward Del and Cody, “can I assume you guys brought some firepower?”
With a loud sigh, Del said, “We decided to leave our assault rifles at home, but we do have our service revolvers. Jason isn’t a free man just yet.”
“Oh,” Maddie said. “Sorry, Jason, but don’t you worry. We’re about to smoke out the real killer.”
Jason looked thin and tired and not exactly bursting with hope. Olivia felt a tight squeeze in her heart as she watched him stare at the floor. At the same time, her resolve strengthened. “It’s almost showtime,” she said softly.
In ten minutes, the cookie trays were scattered around the sales floor, and tea and coffee bubbled away. By six forty-five, no one had shown up. Seven o’clock came and went with the same result.
“Don’t give up hope, dear,” Ellie said. “I have a strong feeling this experiment will work.”
Olivia had gone over and over the questions she hoped to ask her suspects. She needed another angle. “Del, did you look into Lenora Tucker’s story about Geoffrey King being afraid of a loan shark he owed money to?”
“Yeah, I talked to King’s parole officer, who asked around. It seems King wasn’t lying about that, except he seemed to be keeping up his payments. If he was stealing enough high-end stuff, that might explain it. He sure couldn’t keep a job.”
“Also, he was blackmailing Charlie Critch and who knows who else,” Olivia said.
At that moment, the front doorbell rang. Bertha bounced up to welcome Heather Irwin, who was followed by Charlene and Charlie Critch. Charlene carried a loaf of fresh whole wheat bread, which she tossed at Olivia before throwing her arms around Jason’s neck. “Oh Jason, I’m so glad you’re okay.”
Jason held her tightly and buried his face in her shoulder. Charlie stood nearby, fidgeting with the ribbon on a bottle of red wine.
Bertha again answered the doorbell and Raoul Larssen entered the store. He wore a white shirt and jeans, which emphasized his muscular legs and broad shoulders. However, Olivia doubted anyone could mistake him for a construction worker. His dark eyes explored the store before coming to rest on Ellie Greyson. “Ah, my favorite pupil,” he said. When Olivia greeted him, he executed a quick bow and handed her a bottle of Chilean cabernet sauvignon. Inexpensive, yet excellent. “I offer this in celebration of your brother’s freedom,” he said. “And also for your kindness. Ms. Overton explained to me that you begged her to be lenient with me for my . . . for omitting to mention my daughter’s visit.”
“How thoughtful of you,” Olivia said.
“Ms. Overton said you offered to pay her the extra rent I owe her. This is too generous of you and not necessary. It was merely a mistake on my part. I have already taken care of the problem.”
Ellie took the bottle from Olivia’s hands. “This looks delicious, Raoul. Will you join me in a glass? You don’t have to teach tonight, do you? I’ve been hoping for a chance to chat with you. What class will you be starting next?” Ellie removed the cork with the ease of experience and poured three glasses.
Raoul accepted his wine and took a small sip. “I am so sorry to tell you this, my dear Ellie, but we will be leaving soon. I have made arrangements to teach elsewhere. They want me to begin immediately, and my classes here are coming to an end, so . . .”
“Oh no!” Ellie said. “I was so hoping to meet your daughter. From what I’ve heard, she’s a stunning ballerina. Livie has seen her dance, you know.”
“And I want to talk to her,” Olivia said. “She might have seen something in the park that could clear Jason.”
Raoul’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “But I understood that your brother has been cleared of the . . . the crime.”
“I know it’s confusing,” Olivia said. “Jason has been released because the police realized they don’t have any more evidence against him than certain other possible suspects.” She directed a deliberate glance across the room at Charlene and Charlie Critch, who were chatting with Jason, Bertha, and Mr. Willard.
Raoul took two sips of his wine before saying, “I’m afraid there is no time to visit. My new job begins so quickly, you see.” An elegant shrug of his shoulders conveyed regret, apology.