Double Chocolate Cookie Murder Page 9

  Marla welcomed the incoming couple before Sherry had a chance to make her way across the store. The woman, protected from the outside chill by a windbreaker and a scarf, greeted Sherry with a nod. The bearded man by her side simply said, “Hello, Sherry.”

  Sherry caught Marla’s puzzled expression. “Marla, do you remember Rachel Currier? She and I met at the bake-off. We saw her at the marina briefly when we went out with Don last night. And this is Chef Buckman, who judged the cookie bake-off with me. You met him briefly, also. He’s the owner of the bakery Eileen will have her cookie featured in.”

  Barry nodded. “Please, call me Barry. Today is the first day Eileen’s cookies are available at the bakery. I’m sure they’re selling like hotcakes. I’ll be heading back there soon and I’ll see for myself.”

  “Eileen is beyond thrilled. I’ll have to stop over and buy a dozen of her winning cookies,” Sherry said. “Thank you for coming in to the Ruggery. What can I show you both?”

  Chapter 10

  “We came in for two things,” Rachel said. “One, Barry is interested in perking up his apartment. I thought one of your gorgeous rugs would do the trick. And two, I’d like to talk to you about Crosby.”

  “Marla, would you like to work with Barry while Rachel and I have a chat?” Sherry forced a grin while considering the uncertainties of what was to come.

  “Right this way, Barry. I’ll show you the lookbook to get you started.” Marla led Barry to the demonstration table before pulling up two stools and locating one of many product books.

  Sherry kept her sights on the two until they appeared settled. “I didn’t know Crosby well, I have to say right off the bat. Again, I’m so sorry for his passing.”

  “Thank you. Even though we were divorced, his death is an awful tragedy. I’m now all his father, Lonnie, has left in terms of family. I believe I’m a beneficiary in Lonnie’s will. He jokes that unless I change my last name from Currier, I stand to become a mildly rich woman. As long as I’m a Currier, I’m obligated to see he’s never neglected. And I’m happy to fulfill that obligation. Maybe that’s why Crosby chose to change his name to his mother’s maiden name. Freed him from family duty.” Rachel took a deep breath. “I’m rambling.”

  “This must be a rough time for you.” Sherry cringed at her trite choice of words. She glanced over to Marla, who seemed to be involved in banter with Barry. Please get to your point, she willed Rachel.

  “What’s difficult is, Crosby is haunting me from the great beyond. A Detective Bease has tried a number of times to contact me, and I’m pretty sure he thinks I killed my ex-husband. I didn’t.” Rachel’s voice had a hint of desperation.

  “I know the detective. He does a thorough investigation. He would never rush to judgment. He’s probably gathering information.” Sherry searched Rachel’s eyes for signs she had soothed the woman’s anxiety.

  “Why wouldn’t he suspect me? I’m the evil ex-wife.”

  “Again, I know the man. He never goes into an investigation with preconceived notions, such as every ex-wife is a vindictive murderer.” Sherry wondered if her choice of words was too strong.

  “There’s more to consider. When he starts sniffing around, I’m going to come off in a poor light. Truth is, ever since Ivy Banks Currier died, Crosby has been spiraling out of control. The two had a strong mother-son bond that only deepened as she grew sicker. When she died, I think he lost all purpose in life. I tried my best to reunite him with his father, but he fought me at every turn. Crosby and I had split by then, but I still cared about the guy. I even brought Lonnie to the cookie bake-off, knowing Crosby was baking his mother’s cookies. My hope was they could bond over the competition, especially if he won. Lonnie was all for the idea, even though his own marriage had been less than perfect. Unfortunately, Saturday, Lonnie was suffering stomach issues and spent most of the time in the men’s room.”

  “What a mess. Wonder why Crosby and his father had a falling out.” Sherry said.

  “Goes way back. The fact they barely spoke definitely played a part in the estrangement of Ivy from Lonnie. Or it could be the other way around. Not a subject we touched on often during our marriage, for the sake of keeping the peace. He and I eloped, rather than force the family to come together for our sake. It just wouldn’t have been possible.”

  “Wow, that does sound like a family torn apart.” Sherry’s gaze drifted back to Marla and Barry.

  “I know you’d like to get over there and help your sister, so I’ll get to the point.” Rachel was clearly struggling for the right words. “Can you find Crosby’s killer? Lonnie lives in Sunset Village, the Augustin senior community, and I’m the only family he has. He’ll have no one to visit him if I’m arrested.” Rachel’s calm voice morphed into a plea.

  “Hey, Sher. We could use your expertise over here,” Marla called from across the room. “Amber ducked out to go to the bank.”

  “Thank you,” Sherry mouthed to her sister when Rachel turned her head toward Marla. “I can’t make any promises, Rachel.” She took a step away.

  The smile on the face of a woman she barely knew descended into a frown. “Crosby told me you were his favorite student in high school.”

  “Let’s go see what those two have come up with.” Sherry chose not to respond to Rachel’s comment, which hit her like a hammer.

  Sherry answered Barry’s questions about customizing a rug for his bakery, rather than his apartment. The large rug would take two months to complete and would serve as a focal point for the corner of his shop where people congregated to drink coffee and share sweet and savory baked goods. At the sales counter, Barry signed the receipt for a deposit to begin work immediately.

  “There’s a nip in the air today.” Rachel zipped up her puffy down coat. “Winter’s on the way.”

  “You dropped your glove.” Barry bent down to pick it up. “It’s early in the season to lose one.”

  “Too late. This is an orphan.” Rachel held up the gray wool glove with the leather palm.

  Sherry’s breath caught in her throat and she choked on her attempt to swallow a gasp.

  “You okay?” Marla asked.

  “Some dust in the air.” Sherry voice became strangled. She tilted her head in Marla’s direction. “Do you have any gloves like Rachel’s single?”

  “I don’t. Only gloves I have are work ones, and I left those in Oklahoma.” Marla turned to face Rachel. “It’s an early season loss. Maybe you’ll get lucky and find the missing match.”

  “Hope so.” Rachel stuffed the glove in her coat pocket. “Thanks for everything. Have a good evening.”

  “Thank you,” Barry said. “I’ll have to pick another rug for my apartment on the next visit.”

  As soon as the pair left the store, Marla approached Sherry. When they locked gazes in a sisterly, intuitive exchange, Sherry confessed the reason behind her astonished expression. “That’s the matching glove to the one Don found on the deck of his boat. I brought it home to see if it belonged to you. It’s still in the car. I confess, I forgot all about it after the boat mishap.”

  “What are you saying? That Rachel was on Don’s boat?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

  “I’m back.” The voice came from the direction of the opening door. Erno entered the store. “What’s that collective look on your faces? Did I scare you?”

  “No, Dad, we were discussing something.” She didn’t even have to ask where his attention had wandered off to. Sherry saw her father checking the store for the aftermath of the Black Friday sale.

  “Place looks great,” Erno remarked. “No damage done selling a few items at a discount after all.”

  “You need a different perspective on the sale,” Marla told her father. “Yes, your rugs are lovingly designed by you and can easily be considered works of art. Making a small number accessible to a wise consumer, once a year, is a nice gesture.”

  “The rugs are all my children. I want to make sure each goe
s to an appreciative home. I’d feel the same way if I had to sell you or Sherry.”

  “Thanks for that sentiment, Dad,” Sherry said. “I can confirm, the customers who bought the rugs were beyond appreciative.”

  “That’s all I ask,” Erno said. “Now that I’m here, why don’t you gals go find something fun to do?”

  “Marla, that’s code for ‘Dad needs some Ruggery-time, ’ ” Sherry explained. “When we’re not here to eyeball him, he changes the display, reorganizes the yarn storage area, and generally has quality alone time with his rugs.”

  “The bad news is, you won’t be alone long. Amber’s at the bank and soon to return. She took the pups with her,” Marla said. “Better get going on your solo rug time.”

  Sherry and Marla shared a laugh as they headed out the door. “We’ll call you later.”

  In the car, Sherry read a text she’d received from Tia, the mayor’s secretary. “Do you mind if we head over to the library? Tia from Town Hall would like me to cover a Christmas tree safety demo the Augustin Fire Department has set up over there. The mayor wants a blurb and a photo in next week’s newsletter.”

  “As long as we can grab something to eat soon. I’m starving.”

  “Deal.” Sherry checked the back seat for her notebook. Sitting on top of the notebook was the mirror image of Rachel’s glove. Sherry switched on the car while giving the situation more thought. “Even if Rachel was on Don’s boat while we were in Vitis’s shed trying on life jackets, it doesn’t mean she was involved in causing the leak.”

  “You read my mind, except for the part where I believe she was the cause.”

  “Rachel said she didn’t want Lonnie to be alone, so why would she kill his son? That would remove Crosby, and her, from Lonnie’s life.” Before Marla could comment, Sherry added, “Although it’s noteworthy she mentioned she’s in Lonnie’s will until she changes her last name. Unless she was kidding. Is Crosby in the will? Not necessarily, given the family’s fractured history. More for her if he isn’t. It’s a moot point now he’s dead.”

  “What’s the story with Crosby’s mother? He told us she died within this past year, but why did she and Lonnie never get a divorce, living apart as Rachel said they had. Families are nuts sometimes.”

  “Seems the more we learn, the less we know,” Sherry replied.

  Arriving at the library, Sherry found a parking spot next to an Augustin fire truck. “The demo’s inside, which is kind of scary, but apparently they have a fireproof capsule for the holiday tree they’re going to ignite.”

  The automatic doors opened into the library’s lobby. A crowd had gathered around a clear enclosure that housed a three-foot tall, lit and decorated tree. Sherry spotted two firemen. The demo appeared to be getting underway, as a firefighter donned an oxygen mask and tipped the tree from its perch. Not long after, an overturned lit candle ignited the tree’s dry needles and the fire was off to the races. The glass tomb contained the fire, but viewing the firefighters in action was difficult under the smoky conditions.

  “Those guys do amazing work.” Sherry admired the precision it took to douse the flames with an extinguisher in a short amount of time. “Fires are an awful tragedy under any circumstances, let alone a controlled environment like this.”

  When the demonstration was over, the crowd applauded, especially when one firefighter removed the protective gear to reveal a woman acknowledging the admiration sent her way.

  “Augustin’s first firewoman. I’ve read about her. I’m so excited she’s here today. A great angle for my story.” Sherry was giddy with excitement. “I’ll be back in a few.” She made her way to the front of the dispersing crowd. “Your demonstration was a real eye-opener. I’m writing an article about what I learned for the town newsletter. Hope it saves people from holiday tragedy.”

  “A little knowledge goes a long way,” the woman said. “We appreciate you getting the word out.”

  “Can I ask you a fire-related question?” A nod from the uniformed woman gave Sherry the green light. “Years ago, there was a fire at the Augustin Marina. Do you know any details about the fire, such as how it may have begun?”

  “It was before my time, but yes, we use the story of that day as a training exercise every six months. That fire took four neighboring companies, besides us, to tame. It was the worst fire in over one hundred years for Augustin. Back then, nearly all the structures were wood, basically with a match waiting to be struck, so that’s saying something.”

  “Wow” was all Sherry could lend to the conversation.

  “The docks were old wood as well. Giant matches for the inferno. Boat fuel fed the flames and the combination was the worst-case scenario to try to get under control in a timely fashion.”

  The woman’s attention drifted away as she raised her line of sight above Sherry’s shoulder. Sherry imagined the woman was visualizing herself on the front line of the fire battle.

  “Was the cause ever pinpointed?” Sherry hoped to get a short answer, as Marla must be wondering where she was.

  “Arson was highly suspected. Charred rags, saturated with flammable liquid acetone, were discovered in what used to be the yacht club’s clubhouse. Nail polish remover. Acetone, the main ingredient, is highly flammable. Once they were ignited, the wood structures went up and the boat fuel exploded. What a mess. Hard to believe no one was seriously injured. You can understand why the only good to come out of the disaster was the opportunity for furthering firefighting education.”

  “No one was ever charged. Isn’t that correct?” Sherry asked.

  “That’s right. Suspicion lay heavily on the head of the dockmaster’s son. He was in his early twenties and didn’t approve of his father’s philandering ways. The Augustin firehouse aided as best they could in the investigation, but the police lacked one or two crucial pieces of evidence to lock in his guilt. In the end, it was a he-said, she-said standoff. The father said his son did it and the mother said he didn’t. The old-timers at the firehouse, who still talk about the twelve hours spent fighting the fire, say it was a shame no one was ever punished for the act. Why all the interest?”

  “The facts seemed incomplete when I read an article about the fire. Thank you very much for your time.” Sherry backed away from the woman.

  “You’re very welcome. Stay safe during this holiday season.”

  Sherry returned to Marla, who was helping a young boy insert his foot into a sneaker.

  Beside them, a woman juggled a baby in a carrier, a diaper bag, and a juice box. “Thank you,” she managed to say to Marla before she began a chase after the escaping little boy.

  “You’re welcome,” Marla called after the woman.

  “Make you want a few of your own?” Sherry asked.

  “A few little ranch hands would be useful.” Marla laughed.

  “While we’re here, let’s take a look at a back issue of the Nutmeg State of Mind.”

  “What are you up to, Sher?” Marla asked as Sherry led her to the reference desk.

  “Curiosity is getting the best of me.”

  A heavyset woman with a chestnut-brown, bobbed hairdo pushed a book cart up to the copy machine and turned her attention to her patrons.

  “Hi, Ethel. We’d love to take a look at a back issue of the newspaper if that’s okay.”

  “Sherry, hello. This must be your sister. I haven’t laid eyes on her in years.” Ethel, Augustin’s longtime head librarian, lowered her brows. “As I recall, you were late returning nearly every book you ever borrowed, young lady. Have you mended your ways?”

  “I had to move out of town to escape the shame. I do think if you gave me another chance, I’d pull through.”

  “Glad to hear it. You know, we librarians get an undeserved reputation for enforcing rules, but we just want everyone to enjoy the books we offer, and if they aren’t returned on time, the domino effect takes over and no one is happy.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Marla bowed her head.

  Sherry was di
rected by Ethel to take a seat at the microfilm projector to view back issues of the newspaper, while Marla checked out a laptop. Ethel gave Sherry a brief lesson in the machine’s use.

  “You gals could do this at home if you had an online subscription to the newspaper, you know. Depending on how far back you need to go. But I’m happy you’re here in person. Not often do I get to help one of the town’s tastiest celebrities. Now, what time period are you looking for?”

  Sherry didn’t want to admit she didn’t subscribe to the paper that often featured her wins. Buying a copy on the newsstand worked well enough for her needs. “Let’s start with Ivy Banks Currier’s obituary. Then we’ll see where that leads us,” Sherry replied. “Marla, can you get the date?”

  Ethel excused herself while Marla pulled up a chair next to Sherry and opened the laptop. “I’ll be over at the circulation desk if you need me.”

  After a few clicks, Marla said, “Looks like we can get the full obit right here because it’s so recent.” Marla read the half-page obituary out loud.

  “Lists Lonnie Currier as a surviving family member. Refers to Crosby as Crosby Currier. Maybe Crosby uses the Banks name now as a tribute to his mother,” Sherry suggested.

  “Maybe if Rachel wouldn’t change the Currier last name after they split, he changed his?” Marla counter-suggested.

  “Hard to speculate. The obit mentions the family’s connection to the Augustin Marina. ‘In lieu of flowers, please make a donation to the Augustin Marina Restoration Project.’ Ironic that’s where Crosby’s body was found not long after the bake-off. What was he doing there? Rachel said he didn’t like to be on boats.”

  “Ladies.” Ethel came up alongside Sherry’s chair. “Is there anything else you need from me?”