Olivia had found the conference website online and purposely picked one name from a Wednesday session and a second, similar name from the Saturday morning session. The website had also stated that, because space was limited and conference attendance had exceeded expectations, preregistration would be required for this very popular panel. Olivia was counting on the hotel’s desire to go the extra helpful mile to maintain their competitive edge.
“If you can wait a few minutes, Ms. Clark, I’ll ask the events director for you.”
“Thank you so much,” Olivia said. When the Kenny G. music started, she ran for the kitchen sink, poured herself a large glass of water, and gulped it down. She filled the glass again and returned to the phone as the music halted in midphrase.
The hotel concierge sounded tentative, as if he were concerned about irritating her. “Ms. Clark, I spoke with our events coordinator and she was a bit confused. You see, the two names you mentioned served on panels that took place on two other days, but they did not participate in the Thursday evening panel the Chamberlains mentioned. In fact, she also checked and found that Hugh and Edward Chamberlain had both preregistered for that evening, but apparently they didn’t claim their seats. At least, their names aren’t checked off. Our events coordinator wondered if the Chamberlains might be remembering a different panel?”
“Could you wait a few moments while I ask one of them?”
“Of course.” Olivia could almost hear the concierge sigh.
Thank goodness Maddie had talked her into including a hold function with her store phone service. Olivia watched the clock for one minute, hoping it would feel like ten to the concierge. After several more gulps of water, she was about to reconnect when Maddie opened the kitchen door and poked her head inside. “It’s quieted down out here, so could you—?”
“Hang on, I’m almost finished.” Olivia pointed to the flashing red hold button on the phone.
Maddie wedged herself between the door and the jamb, so she could watch the store and listen at the same time.
Olivia picked up the receiver and punched the hold button. “Hello? Yes, this is Ms. Clark again. I’m so sorry to have taken so much of your time,” she said, relaxing into a more friendly, apologetic tone. “When I mentioned the other panels to Mr. Chamberlain, he suddenly remembered the right one, as well as the name of the presenter. Thank you for being so patient and helpful. Chamberlain Enterprises will certainly keep your hotel in mind for the future.”
Whew. Olivia disconnected with a gratified concierge.
“Wow,” said Maddie. “I didn’t know you had it in you.”
“Hey, I played a role in one of our high school plays, remember?”
“Yes, but that was Chatterley Heights High School theater. Anyone who wanted a part, got a part. However, what I heard sounded impressive. What did you find out?”
Olivia filled her in. “It isn’t proof, of course,” she added. “Hugh and Edward might have attended some other function, or the hotel might have made a mistake. But at least they don’t appear to have a solid alibi at the moment.”
“This would be a lot easier if we were cops,” Maddie said. “But I’d miss the cookie cutters.” She peeked into the store. “Gotta go. I hear someone coming in from outside.”
“One more call and then I’ll spell you.”
Once Maddie had left, Olivia picked up the phone again. At least this call should be easier. She finally found time to dial her old friend’s number. After two rings, a familiar cheerful yet no-nonsense voice answered. “Stacey?”
“Livie? You’re a mind reader. I’ve been thinking about you ever since . . . Well, I don’t need to remind you.” Her voice became softer and a bit distorted, as if she were whispering with her mouth too close to the phone. “I’m in the outer office, and it’s crammed with kids and teachers. Hang on.” After a moment, Stacey’s voice returned to normal. “There, that’s better. I’m in my office. How the heck are you?”
Stacey Harald was another of Olivia’s since-kindergarten friends, though their lives had taken different turns after graduation. At the age of nineteen, Stacey married her high school sweetheart, with whom she’d had two children. When Olivia returned home, she’d discovered that Stacey and her husband had split. During the summer, she and Stacey had squeezed in several lunches and reconnected over their tales of divorce. Stacey did not look down her nose at a bit of discreet gossip. Best of all, after her divorce, Stacey had brushed off her secretarial skills and worked her way up to office manager at Chatterley Heights Elementary. She knew Tammy well and wasn’t especially fond of her.
“I’m good,” Olivia said. “Considering the situation.”
“Looks like one big, messy situation from where I sit.”
With a rueful laugh, Olivia said, “About that . . .”
“Spit it out, Livie.”
Olivia smiled to herself. Stacey’s directness was legend throughout Chatterley Heights. Beating around the bush would only irritate her. “Okay, between you and me,” Olivia said, “I’m trying to save my own skin. Sheriff Del wants me to stay in the store and bake cookies, but I need to find out what’s been going on around here. If you know what I mean.” She didn’t want to be too explicit on the phone.
“I know what you mean.”
“Maddie is helping, but I need to talk to someone more . . .”
“More in daily touch with, say, one of the main players?”
“You are so quick, it’s scary.” Olivia glanced up at the kitchen clock. Three thirty. The Gingerbread House closed at five. “Any chance you’re free for dinner?”
“As it happens, Tyler has basketball practice and Rachel will be studying at a friend’s house, or so she claims.”
“How about six thirty? My place? It’s more private.” The tables at Pete’s Diner were so crowded together that Olivia had heard complete conversations from three tables away.
“You aren’t going to cook, are you? Because I’ve heard things. . . .”
“You wound me. No, baking is the only cooking I do willingly. I’ll order a couple of the Chatterley Café’s finest pizzas. You can take home the leftovers.”
“It’s a deal. And Livie, don’t be too hard on Del. I dated him for a brief time before marrying what’s-his-name. He’s levelheaded and honest. I always thought I’d made the wrong choice.”
As she hung up, Olivia felt a stabbing sensation in her chest. “Careful, kiddo,” she murmured. “That felt suspiciously like jealousy.”
Chapter Eighteen
Olivia made it home, after picking up a few groceries and two pizzas, with five minutes to spare. Her front doorbell rang precisely at six thirty. She ran down the stairs in her stocking feet, carrying a yapping Spunky.
“You sound out of breath,” Stacey said as she walked into the foyer. “I’m not early, am I? I hate it when guests are early. My ex used to be early for dates. I’d make him drive around the block and come back later.”
“I’m out of shape, that’s all,” Olivia said.
Stacey’s sandy hair fell forward as she knelt to massage Spunky’s ears. “What a sweet noisy little critter you are,” she said. Spunky wriggled his head in ecstasy. “I love dogs,” Stacey said. “Cats, too. So much easier to live with than men.” She gave the puppy a final pat on the head and said, “To be continued once my strength is restored by pizza.”
“And red wine,” Olivia said as she led the way upstairs.
“An excellent combination.”
Once upstairs, Stacey gave the pizzas a quick warmup in the oven and set the table. Olivia poured wine and unpacked her groceries, which included a hunk of parmesan cheese, bagged salad, and some fresh Caesar dressing from the Chatterley Café. She chopped a few olives for the salad and scavenged for some cocktail tomatoes that hadn’t yet shriveled up.
By the time they sat down to eat, their wineglasses required refilling. Stacey selected a slice from the veggie and cheese pizza, while Olivia went straight for the three-meat with extra mozzarella.