Cookies and Scream (A Cookie Cutter Shop Mystery) by Virginia Lowell

experience as an attorney and his laser intellect were unbeatable. Bertha was the only one who dared refer to him merely as “Willard.”
    “Our meeting with Constance took much longer than I’d anticipated,” Olivia said, “but it was worth the time. I’ll fill you both in on the details later. Right now I want to be sure we’re ready to open the store on time, more or less. Constance and Greta will arrive here together, and you know how Constance is about promptness.”
    “Don’t you worry now,” Bertha said. “The Gingerbread House is nearly ready for a wonderful event. Dear Willard helped me carry out the heaviest trays, so the rest should be easy. Goodness, those cookies look so interesting, and they smell delicious. Maddie, you are a wonder.”
    “Shucks, twern’t nothin’,” Maddie said as she cracked open the kitchen door to peek into the store. “Wow. Livie, Ellie, you’ve got to see this.” She held the door wide.
    The Gingerbread House had never looked so enchanting, Olivia thought. Bertha had outdone herself, with Mr. Willard’s help, in a very short time. She had decorated many of the display tables with tableaus representing fairy tales. Olivia admired two scenes, in particular. One showed a witch peering through the window of a gingerbread house at two small children. On another table, covered with a lake-blue cloth, four ducklings swam in a circle around a lovely swan. All of the figures were cookie cutters. “Everything looks wonderful,” Olivia said. “However, we aren’t done yet. Let’s get moving.”
    With so many hands to help, the store was ready with twenty minutes to spare. Olivia considered opening early, but the guest of honor hadn’t yet arrived.
    Ellie frowned as she peered through the front window. “I’m worried Greta and Constance might have to force their way through the guests on the front porch.”
    “Constance has a plan,” Olivia said. “She’ll bring Greta in through the kitchen, if necessary. I’m more worried about how they’ll get to the store. As far as I’m aware, Constance wheels herself all over town. I’ve never seen her drive. Well, she must have a specially equipped car. I hope so, anyway.”
    “Oh, Livie.” Ellie sighed. “You do need to work less and get out more. Do you remember Irv and Louisa?”
    Olivia narrowed her eyes at her mother. “I get irritable when you use non sequiturs. Is this leading to one of your lengthy and excessively detailed stories? Because—”
    “Irv and Louisa owned a farm south of town,” Ellie said. “When you were a child, Louisa used to sell eggs and fresh vegetables door-to-door. You saw her often.”
    Olivia shrugged. “Sorry, Mom, I just don’t remember. We’re running out of time, so if there’s a point to this . . .”
    “There is, Livie. Two points, in fact. First, if you paid more attention to your surroundings, especially the people, you might be quicker to understand human behavior. However, you have me to do that for you, so I’ll move on to point number two.” Ellie gave Olivia’s arm a maternal pat. “A year or so before you moved back to Chatterley Heights, Louisa was the victim of a hit-and-run accident while she was delivering fresh eggs to the Chatterley Café. The morning cooks at the café heard the accident and ran outside, but no one got the license plate number or remembered what the vehicle looked liked. Well, naturally they were all so upset about Louisa that they didn’t think to . . . Livie, dear, don’t scrunch up your eyes like that. You will wrinkle. What was I saying? Oh yes, Louisa was badly injured and could no longer walk. They had no medical insurance, so Irv and Louisa had to sell their farm to pay her medical bills. Now they live in town, in an apartment. It’s little but really quite sweet, and they do seem happy.”
    It took all the self-discipline Olivia possessed to keep from glancing at the clock. She told herself that her mother’s stories,