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

in Germany and Sweden, and she even married a Swede or a German or maybe one of each.” Maddie shrugged. “I got a bit dizzy listening to all the marriages Greta lost, one way or another, although she did seem to have a gift for ending up with the money. Anyway, now that we’re hosting a store event to welcome Greta back home, I thought it would be fun to offer cookies that represent some of the places she has lived.”
    “But, Maddie, isn’t it a bit risky to try so many experiments right before an event?”
    “Hey, do I ever express the slightest doubt about your ability to reenvision your business plan? Heck, I don’t even know what that means, yet I’ve put my personal financial future in your hands. Let me do the creative baking; that’s what I do best. You run along and, I don’t know, do something brilliantly businesslike.”
    “Yes, ma’am,” Olivia said. Maddie had brewed a fresh pot of coffee, so Olivia fixed herself a cup and returned to the sales floor. When she had finished cleaning and reorganizing the display areas, she settled into a cozy stuffed chair in the cookbook nook to study the list of cookie cutters in Greta Oskarson’s collection. Almost at once, Spunky joined her.
    “Hey, there, Spunks. It isn’t as much fun on the sales floor without your adoring fans, is it? Come on, there’s room enough for both of us.” Olivia patted the large chair’s seat, and Spunky jumped up beside her. After completing a couple of tight circles, he snuggled next to her.
    “It doesn’t get much better than this.” As Olivia turned her attention to the cookie cutter list, her cell phone rang. It was her mother. Olivia considered letting the call go to voice mail, but she couldn’t quite do it.
    “Livie, I’m so glad I caught you.” Ellie did not sound like her normal unflappable self. “I’m down the street at the BookChat Bookstore. I was just picking up a book for my nineteenth-century novel group, and I was wondering if I could drop by the store in ten minutes or so.”
    “Sure, Mom. You sound harried. Is everything okay?”
    “What? Wait a moment, dear.” Ellie’s muffled voice came through her cell as she talked to a companion. “Sorry, dear, I have someone with me, so there will be two of us coming to see you. We’re just—” The line went dead.
    Olivia waited several moments for her cell to ring again. When it didn’t, she settled back in her soft, roomy chair to wait for Ellie and her talkative companion to show up. Gently massaging Spunky’s back, Olivia read through the list of Greta’s cookie cutters. Olivia had picked up some knowledge of antique and vintage cookie cutters, but she hadn’t heard of most of the items on the list. The ones she did recognize were newer and probably less valuable. The collection was predominantly European in origin. Olivia was better versed in early American cookie cutters. Anita Rambert was the most knowledgeable antique cookie cutter expert around, but Olivia didn’t dare share the list with her. Olivia wished there were someone she could talk to, someone who wasn’t trying to get her hands on Greta’s collection.
    The porch doorbell rang, and Spunky’s ears perked to attention. “Down, boy,” Olivia said. “It’s just Mom and whoever is making her act so unlike her always serene, composed self.”
    Spunky growled and yapped.
    Olivia slid her arm around Spunky’s middle and held him against her side. “Better stick with me, kiddo. No ankle nipping allowed, although I’ll make an exception if Binnie is out there.” When Olivia entered the foyer, the doorbell rang again, twice. That wasn’t like her mom, who was known for her otherworldly patience. Olivia tightened her hold on Spunky, just in case. . . .
    Olivia was reaching toward the front door when she heard a sharp knock. She opened the door to find a tall, sturdily built woman with her fist raised to knock again. Olivia guessed her to be about forty. The woman barged into the