When the Cookie Crumbles by Virginia Lowell

anyone.
    Olivia noticed that all the celebration committee members were present, though only one, Mr. Willard, had taken seriously Karen’s order to arrive in costume. A barrister’s cloak hung from Mr. Willard’s gaunt shoulders, and a white wig covered his sparse hair. Olivia assumed Bertha had made the outfit for him. A card-carrying Daughter of the American Revolution might object to the British style of the costume, but it was probably the only pattern Bertha could find at short notice.
    The mayor herself wore a tailored, pale gray suit and rose blouse. The jacket flared gently at Karen’s hips to draw subtle attention to the perfection of her figure. Only the habitual sternness of her expression kept Karen from being a beautiful woman. As she explained her rules to the visiting small-town reporters, Karen reminded Olivia ofher first-grade teacher, to whom all children were uncivilized monsters until proven otherwise.
    Quill Latimer stood apart from the others, dressed in full academic regalia with cloak, PhD hood, and a mortarboard on his head. An odd choice of costume. Olivia remembered Paine Chatterley’s comment about Quill’s “well-deserved position” in life. Quill taught at a nearby community college. Olivia knew he had a PhD in history, but she didn’t remember hearing where he’d attended graduate school. If he had graduated from a first-rate university, Quill, being Quill, would surely have told everyone. Often.
    Olivia noticed Binnie Sloan was now missing from the group. Olivia remembered having seen her just moments ago, mixing with the other editors of weeklies. Predictably, Binnie had ignored Karen’s order to appear in costume. She’d worn her usual attire: men’s cargo pants, a flannel shirt, and a man’s jacket. All three items provided numerous pockets for Binnie’s array of small cameras, recorders, notebooks, and pens. Olivia was sure Binnie’s jacket had been red and black plaid, her pants and shirt beige. She peeked around the collection of reporters to get a view of the street and the mansion grounds. A squarish red-black-beige figure was passing the Chatterleys’ wraparound porch, heading toward the back of the house.
    Olivia touched Del’s arm to get his attention. “Binnie’s going in for a closer look,” she said in a low voice, nodding toward the mansion. “She’s at the wraparound porch.”
    Del muttered something curselike and took off at a run, with Cody close behind. Binnie had already disappeared behind the mansion. As Del and Cody raced across the street, Olivia caught Karen glaring in her direction. Olivia shrugged her shoulders, denying all responsibility for this glitch in Karen’s perfect plan.
    As two more vans pulled to the curb, Karen’s stern expression melted into delight. She waved an enthusiastic welcome and strode toward the first van. Olivia was impressed by the mayor’s speed, given she was wearing spike heels and walking through grass.
    Young, bored-looking crews emerged from the vans bearing microphones, cameras, and other equipment Olivia couldn’t name. She assumed they were junior staff representing major papers in DC or Baltimore, or both. They ignored Karen as she chattered at them. Olivia sympathized with their lack of enthusiasm. She longed to be back in The Gingerbread House sorting through that package of vintage cookie cutters she was expecting to arrive any minute or helping customers find the perfect gel icing color.
    As Olivia watched, Del and Cody rounded the mansion porch, holding Binnie Sloan firmly between them. Binnie was no lightweight, but her feet barely touched the ground. As they drew closer, Olivia could see Del’s expression, tight and angry. His young deputy grew redder in the face with each step. At six foot three, Cody was probably doing much of the carrying. Binnie dragged her toes in the grass and grinned.
    Del and Cody delivered their captive to the mayor, who looked furious enough to sentence Binnie to death. As