For the first leg of the new Cookie House marketing campaign, Kate opted for two recipes that were old favorites with friends and restaurant customers alike: Toll House and (for those few curious souls who didn’t appreciate chocolate) rum butter cookies.
Kate figured she and Maxi could make the rounds in the morning. Each shop would get a dozen—half and half—in a bakery box with the Cookie House address and phone number.
Maxi had picked up stick-on labels and treat boxes from a party store off Main Street. And printed out the first batch of labels on her home computer. In light blue ink, they featured a line drawing of the Cookie House.
“Maxi, these look great,” Kate said, clearly impressed.
“Part of being a small-business owner.” Maxi patted the monitor. “This old girl helps me with invoices, stationery, marketing, and, in a pinch, those little cards that go with a delivery. When you run your own shop, you learn to do a little bit of everything.”
“I figured I’d start on Sunny’s rolls tonight and we’d deliver the first batch the day after tomorrow. That way, I can proof the dough a couple of times.”
“I feel like the Easter Bunny,” Maxi said with a grin. “All I need are some of those plastic ears.”
The front door slammed.
“My guy,” Maxi declared, getting up. “I can’t believe he had to work through dinner.”
Peter Buchanan appeared in the kitchen, his face serious. “Hey, we need to talk,” he said quietly.
“I’ll join Oliver and the kids in the yard,” Kate said, moving toward the back door.
“No, you need to hear this, too.” He turned to Maxi and guided her to the kitchen table. “Baby, you want to sit down.”
Kate’s heart dropped. Sam. It had to be Sam.
Peter set his briefcase by the bar and dropped his suit jacket over one of the kitchen chairs. “There’s no easy way to say this.…”
Maxi’s hands flew to her face. “Peter, just tell us,” she pleaded.
He nodded. “Carl came to our office this morning. He actually called last night, but that’s another story. Anyway, he’d heard that someone else connected with Lord had died recently. Died the same way Lord did.” Peter stopped, taking a deep breath.
“Muriel Hopkins,” Kate said. “His assistant. We heard about it at the book club meeting yesterday.”
“She had heart problems,” Maxi said. “For a long time.”
Peter nodded. “She did. Her doctor said it was a chronic condition. But she was managing it well. She watched her diet, took her meds, walked regularly. Bottom line, he was surprised when she died so suddenly.”
“Rosie said it was from the stress,” Maxi said. “Working for Stewart Lord.”
“Yeah, the doctor mentioned that. He was also afraid he might have missed something in her last exam. Some complication related to her health. And that’s been weighing on him. He’s truly convinced that she shouldn’t have died so young.”
Kate felt a thudding in her own chest. Maxi had gone silent, her eyes wide and worried.
“The bottom line is, after talking with her doctor, the assistant state attorney handling Lord’s murder believes that Muriel Hopkins’ death deserves a second look. And, unfortunately, after hearing the facts, I agree with him. The office is going to move to have her body exhumed. There’s a chance that Muriel Hopkins might have been poisoned. It’s possible she might have been murdered by the same person who killed Stewart Lord.”