Olivia dumped a load into the can and dried her arms on her shorts. “What do we really know about Charlene?”

“Not much from my end,” Maddie said. “I asked my aunt Sadie if she remembered anything about the Critch family. She thought they’d lived a few miles out of Chatterley Heights years ago and moved away when Charlene was little. She might have been thinking of another family, though. I don’t remember Charlene at all, but she is a bit younger than we are. Hence her juvenile behavior.”

“She’s somewhere around twenty-five,” Olivia said, “which would make her six or seven years younger than we are and a couple years younger than Jason.”

“Your brother is more mature than Charlene, which isn’t saying a lot,” Maddie said. “No offense meant.”

“None taken.”

“Here’s what I don’t get,” Maddie said. “Why would Charlene think it was such a good idea to dump a truckload of crinkled-up flyers on the dew-soaked lawn of The Gingerbread House? What does she get out of it?”

“I don’t think Charlene did this. I suspect it might have something to do with the man I saw running from her store.”

“The man who, according to Charlene, is a figment of your sugar-addled imagination?”

“Which made me very curious,” Olivia said. A lock of damp auburn hair fell across her forehead, and she blew it away from her eyes. “Why would Charlene deny the existence of someone who had vandalized her beloved store? She tried to blame us, but that didn’t go anywhere. I doubt she believed it herself.”

Curiosity sparked in Maddie’s green eyes. “Maybe she’s being stalked. If she knows her stalker, why wouldn’t she say so?”

“I don’t know about the stalking part, but she certainly clammed up at my description of the man I saw running from her kitchen. I’ll bet you a gingerbread cookie cutter family that she knows who it was but doesn’t want his identity revealed. Maybe it’s someone she cares about. Which is why we should learn more about Charlene Critch.”