Cookie Dough or Die

Chapter Fifteen

It was ten p.m. by the time Olivia returned from dinner at the Chamberlain home, and all she could think about was the soft, cool feel of her sheets as she slid into bed. There was Spunky, of course; he’d be whining to go out before she got her key in the lock. However, if he wanted a run, he was out of luck.

Olivia unlocked the front door and found the light on in the foyer. Maddie must have forgotten to turn it off when she left. They’d have to repeat that little talk about the energy bill. As she reached for the light switch, she noticed the corner of a piece of paper sticking out under the door to The Gingerbread House. She knelt down and managed to claw out a four-by-six recipe card, with The Gingerbread House imprinted at the top and a color drawing of a gingerbread woman holding a large spoon. In the space provided for a recipe, a scrawled note read, If this note is here, so am I. Come in & talk to me. M.

Maddie had an annoying habit of using recipe cards for everything, including notes to herself. She could go through a package in a week. Another waste of money. Then Olivia remembered: she didn’t have to worry quite so much about money anymore. What a strange feeling.

Maybe bed could wait a bit. Spunky, however, could not. Olivia heard whimpering and scratching before she was halfway up the stairs. She opened her apartment door and squatted down quickly to intercept Spunky before he could race downstairs. Holding the squirming dog against her hip, she grabbed the leash she kept near the door. She hooked it on Spunky’s collar and hurried back outside barely in time to avoid a puppy accident.

After Spunky finished his little tasks, he growled and strained at the leash.

“Sorry, kiddo,” Olivia said. “Unlike you, I haven’t been napping all evening. After what I’ve just been through, it would take a fire to get me to run with you.”

Spunky began to plead in his pathetic puppy way. As Olivia reached to pick him up, he peered toward a cluster of three arborvitae at the edge of Olivia’s property. His small body went rigid, ears perked up and nose quivering.

Olivia knew this stance. Spunky had heard a noise he didn’t like. Probably nothing more than a bold bunny. On the other hand . . . Olivia’s ears were not as acute as Spunky’s, but when she held her breath, she did hear something. A snapping sound, or maybe a click. Could be anything. Squirrels made all sorts of odd noises when they were defending their territory.

Spunky decided the threat warranted action. He yapped with the fierceness of a much larger creature and pulled at his leash so hard Olivia worried his little neck would snap. She grabbed the puppy around the middle and held his squirming body against her stomach while she fumbled with the front door, thanking providence that she’d chosen to live in a well-lit area of town.

Olivia got the door open and slipped inside. She flipped the dead bolt, turned around, and rested against the door to catch her breath. Spunky stopped yapping at once and wiggled to free himself from his mistress’s death grip.

The door to The Gingerbread House opened. “Don’t tell me,” Maddie’s ironic voice said. “The zombies are at the door, and you barely escaped.”

Half an hour and a hot cocoa later, Olivia had described her dining experience in detail to Maddie. For his valor in the face of danger, whether real or imagined, Spunky was allowed to stay with them in the store kitchen. He had spent the first twenty minutes sniffing every inch and attempting to taste the sugar canister, the floor, and the lemon soap at the sink. Finally, he flopped down on a towel Olivia had put out for him. In moments, he was out.

“Okay, my turn,” Maddie said. She gathered a stack of notes—written on blank recipe cards, of course—that she’d left on the small desk holding Olivia’s laptop. “My evening wasn’t as fraught with human drama as yours, but I found a few suggestive tidbits. I’m sure a private detective could ferret out a lot more. I found annual reports online fairly easily, which surprised me because Chamberlain Enterprises isn’t answerable to stockholders.”

“Clarisse was a stickler about being open and aboveboard,” Olivia said. “She always said that when the product has to do with health, trust is crucial. However, you won’t find any trade secrets in those reports.”

“Let’s hope trade secrets won’t be important in this instance,” Maddie said. “So first, this is a list of the businesses owned by the Chamberlain family. I’m sure they are familiar to you, but I never had occasion to learn what they all are.” She laid one recipe card in front of Olivia, who nodded as she read the list.

“Do you notice anything about that list?” Maddie asked.

Olivia read through it again and it came to her. “Most of them have something to do with health care. The family’s first company, and their biggest by far, is Chamberlain Medical Supplies. Clarisse told me that when Hugh and Edward reached their teen years, Martin started them out as stock boys in that company. They worked in the warehouse, they learned to fill orders, handle problems with customers, everything.”

Maddie snatched the list out of Olivia’s hand. “Even better,” she said, “the Chamberlains own a walk-in clinic in Chatterley Heights, plus several drugstores here and in various nearby towns, and a pharmacy clinic that delivers medications to shut-ins. Hugh and Edward would definitely know their poisons. They could easily have slipped Clarisse some sleeping pills in a higher dosage than her usual prescription, for example. Or injected some sort of tasteless poison into our cookies before leaving them for Sam. Or maybe they put something in the cookies that would interact with his insulin?”

Maddie paused in her usual dramatic fashion. “You haven’t yet heard my truly cool discovery, my coup d’état.”

“I think you mean pièce de résistance,” Olivia said. “Coup d’état means overthrow of the state.”

“Language nerd.” Maddie sorted through her recipecard notes, selected one, and held it to her chest. “Tell me, did you ever wonder how Tammy Deacons and Hugh Chamberlain first met? Hugh is five years older than we are, so he was a year out of high school before Tammy even started. Their families certainly ran in different circles, too.”

“I don’t remember Tammy mentioning to me how she met Hugh. It was after I left town, that’s all I know.”

Olivia reached for the recipe card, but Maddie twisted away.

“I will explain all,” Maddie said. “As you may be aware, Tammy attended a small college nobody ever heard of in the DC area, where she got her elementary school teaching degree. She spent summers back in Chatterley Heights, where she worked at Chamberlain Drugs. During the first summer, none other than Hugh Chamberlain was her supervisor. I expect he gave her some hands-on training.”

“That doesn’t mean she learned anything about drugs or poisons,” Olivia said. “She was probably a salesclerk.”

“But wait! There’s more!” Maddie’s emerald eyes sparkled, and her hair had twined into corkscrews.

“Speaking of medications,” Olivia said, “you might want to consider something for that incipient bipolar disorder.”

“You’re just jealous,” Maddie said. “Tammy Deacons wanted to stay in town, presumably because she’d met the love of her life, but she couldn’t find a teaching job right away. So she trained as a pharmacy assistant and kept working at Chamberlain Drugs. Ha! Now tell me she wouldn’t have learned anything about drugs.”

Olivia digested Maddie’s information and found herself growing more and more puzzled. “Maddie, this is a wonderful find, and I take back every snide comment I’ve said this evening, but really, how on earth did you dig up all this fairly personal background information in such a short time?”

Maddie gave her a sheepish look. “I confess to a lovehate relationship with Internet social networks. It occurred to me that Tammy might be on Facebook, so I checked, and she is. You wouldn’t believe the amount of personal information people reveal on those sites, and Tammy is not one to hold back.”

“Wait a minute,” Olivia said. “Only in an alternate universe would you and Tammy be Facebook friends. How did you gain access to her page?”

With a light laugh, which to Olivia sounded nervous, Maddie said, “Interesting story, actually. You’re right, never in a gadjillion years would Tammy ‘friend’ me, or me her. However, I figured she would have invited you, her dear childhood buddy, to be her friend.”

“I don’t remember getting such an invitation.”

“Oh, Livie, I know how you are about emails. If it isn’t about business or cookie cutters, it goes through your eyes and out the back of your head. So I checked back aways, and there it was, more than six months ago, an unanswered email from Tammy inviting you to be her Facebook friend.”

“You . . . you checked my email? You hacked into my email? How could you do that?”

“It was easy, really. FYI, don’t use pet names for passwords.”

Olivia heard a choking sound come from her own throat. She breathed in deeply, then said, “What I meant was, how could you do that to me ?”

“Desperate times, Livie, desperate times. And look how fruitful it turned out to be.” Maddie bit the bottom of her lip. “Am I unfriended?”

Olivia heaved a giant sigh. “If you ever do anything like that—”

“I won’t, I promise.”

“At least ask first. Now, if I don’t get some sleep, you’ll be alone at the store tomorrow.”

“Understood. Except . . .” Maddie’s teeth captured her lip again.

“What?”

“You might want to check your email before you lose consciousness. Del wants to talk to you tomorrow. He says he left messages on your cell and your home phone. He’s willing to come to the store, but it’s important that he talk to you.”

“Tell you what,” Olivia said, dragging her unwilling body out of her chair. “For penance, you can email him from my account. Tell him to come midmorning. Maybe I can get rid of him before the lunchtime shoppers start showing up.”

“Absolutely,” Maddie said.

Olivia lifted Spunky, who melted into her arms. “Do it tonight. First thing tomorrow, I change all my passwords. I’m thinking some obscure phrases from Proust, in the original French. Good luck with that.”