Apple Turnover Murder

Key Lime Pie Murder

Cherry Cheesecake Murder

Lemon Meringue Pie Murder

Joanne Fluke

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Attributor Protected.

Contents

Apple Turnover Murder

Key Lime Pie Murder

Cherry Cheesecake Murder

Lemon Meringue Pie Murder

APPLE
TURNOVER
MURDER

JOANNE FLUKE

APPLE TURNOVER MURDER

Hannah took a tentative step toward the chair. Yes, it was definitely Bradford, and he must have fallen asleep, because he’d dropped a half-eaten apple turnover on the stage floor.

“Wake up!” They’re waiting for you to start the show!” Hannah took a step forward and gave his shoulder a little shake. “Bradford? What’s wrong with you?”

There was no answer and she gave him another shake. But instead of jumping to his feet as she expected, Bradford tumbled sideways and his head hit the floor with a hollow thunk.

Hannah didn’t need the little voice in her head to warn her that all was not well, and she fumbled in her purse for the little flashlight on her keychain. She flicked it on and aimed it directly at his face. Even accounting for the blue LED light that made everyone look ghastly, there was no doubt in Hannah’s mind. She’d wished him ill, but not quite this ill.

Bradford Ramsey was stone cold dead …

Books by Joanne Fluke

CHOCOLATE CHIP COOKIE MURDER

STRAWBERRY SHORTCAKE MURDER

BLUEBERRY MUFFIN MURDER

LEMON MERINGUE PIE MURDER

FUDGE CUPCAKE MURDER

SUGAR COOKIE MURDER

PEACH COBBLER MURDER

CHERRY CHEESECAKE MURDER

KEY LIME PIE MURDER

CANDY CANE MURDER

CARROT CAKE MURDER

CREAM PUFF MURDER

PLUM PUDDING MURDER

APPLE TURNOVER MURDER

GINGERBREAD COOKIE MURDER

DEVIL’S FOOD CAKE MURDER

Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation

Contents

APPLE TURNOVER MURDER

Books by Joanne Fluke

Acknowledgments

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Ninteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter One

This book is for Ruel.
Thanks for Breakfast in a Muffin, honey!

Acknowledgments

Big hugs and kisses to the kids and the grandkids.

Thank you to: Mel & Kurt, Lyn & Bill, Lu & Sheba, Gina, Adrienne, Jay, Bob, Laura & Mark, Lois & Neal, Amanda, John B., Judy Q., Dr. Bob & Sue, Richard & Krista, Mark B., and Suzy & her remarkable Steelie.

Special thanks to my extraordinary Editor-in-Chief and long-time friend, John Scognamiglio.

Many thanks to Walter, Steve, Laurie, Doug, David, and Maureen.

Thanks to Hiro Kimura for the delectable Apple Turnover on the cover.
And thank you to Lou Malcangi for designing the gorgeous dust jacket.

Thanks also to all the other talented folks at Kensington who keep Hannah sleuthing and baking up a storm.

Thank you to my friend, Trudi Nash, for convincing me that she actually enjoys going along on book tours!
And thanks to David for getting along without her while she’s gone.

Thank you to Dr. Rahhal, Dr. and Mrs. Line, and Dr. Wallen.

Thanks to John at Placed4Success for Hannah’s movie and TV spots.
(And for knowing which wires go to which plugs on my computer.)

Thanks to Ken Wilson for remembering everyone at every bookstore in L.A.
Hugs to superb food stylist, Lois Brown, for making my recipes look yummy on T V.

Thanks to Jill Saxton, the best copy editor I’ve ever met.

Thank you to Sally Hayes for sharing loads of recipes and baking stories. Are you sure your real name isn’t Hannah?

Many thanks to Terry Sommers for testing recipes in her Wisconsin kitchen.

Thank you to Jamie Wallace for keeping my Web site, MurderSheBaked.com up to date and looking great.

And big hugs to everyone who sent favorite family recipes for me to try
In a perfect world, Hannah and I would have an extra day every week just for baking.

Chapter One

“’Til death do us part.”

The words echoed in the hushed flower-scented air and Hannah Swensen shivered in her bridal finery. The church was filled to capacity on this Sunday afternoon in early June and sunbeams streamed through the stained glass windows that lined the nave, transforming the dust motes that floated on lazy air currents into bits of vividly colored confetti.

‘Til death do us part.

The words were simple, the sentiment was true, and Hannah knew that marriage was supposed to last a lifetime. But hearing such grave words on this joyous occasion always reminded her of an opening line in a television murder mystery. In the next shot, the groom would kiss the bride and the whole congregation would mirror their happy smiles. Then the camera would pull back, and the music would change to a minor key. Something was about to happen, something ominous. Someone was going to die before the first commercial break, and you could al-2 most bet that the victim would be one-half of the bridal couple, most likely the actor or actress who was lesser known and lesser paid.

But not today and not here in Lake Eden, Hannah told herself, feeling a bit silly for her dark thoughts on this happy occasion. She could probably blame her overactive imagination on too much work and not enough sleep. Hannah and her partner, Lisa, had put in long hours at The Cookie Jar, their coffee shop and bakery, and their jam-packed schedule was far from completed. They’d baked scores of cookies for graduation celebrations, bridal and baby showers, engagement parties, and school picnics. They’d even baked their signature wedding cookies for this wedding, Old-Fashioned Sugar Cookies topped with glittering crystals of granulated sugar and decorated with the initials of the bride and the groom in frosting, enclosed in a frosting heart. Once the reception line had come to an end, everyone would mingle in the church garden to enjoy iced lemonade and The Cookie Jar’s wedding cookies.

Hannah was attempting to count the wedding celebrants that filled the pews to make sure they’d brought enough cookies when a warm hand reached out to clasp hers. The hand belonged to Norman Rhodes, son of the bride, Carrie Rhodes, and one of the men she was currently dating. Norman was smiling and he’d told Hannah that he was pleased his mother was marrying a man they all knew and liked, Earl Flensburg.

As Carrie and Earl turned and began their first walk down the aisle together as man and wife, Hannah caught a glimpse of her own mother’s face. Delores Swensen was a study in contrasts, smiling and dabbing at her eyes with a lace handkerchief at the same time. Weddings always made Delores cry. She’d once admitted to Hannah that she’d cried at her own wedding and, much to her embarrassment, smudged her mascara in the process.

Hannah followed Norman out of the pew and down the side aisle toward the front doors of the church. “Are you going to stand in the reception line?”

“I’ll congratulate them later when I make the first toast.” Norman waved and Hannah turned to see Mike Kingston, the other man she occasionally dated, standing on the steps that led up to the church doors. He was still wearing his Winnetka County Sheriff’s Department uniform and that probably meant he was still on duty. Mike waved back at them and Hannah and Norman went down the steps to greet him.

“Sorry I missed the wedding,” Mike said when they arrived at his side. “I was supposed to be off work an hour and a half ago, but there was a robbery. You’d think in heat like this, the criminals would stay home and fan themselves.”

“What did they steal?” Norman asked.

“A couple of fans?” Hannah guessed, earning long-suffering looks from both men.

“You’re close,” Mike told her. “They stole a truck loaded with one of those above-ground swimming pools.”

“That’s a pretty big thing to steal,” Norman said. “Did you catch them?”

“Sure. The pool was still in the bed of the truck and they were trying to fill it up in the parking lot at the Eagle. You know where that is, don’t you?”

Both Hannah and Norman nodded. They’d rescued Hannah’s youngest sister, Michelle, from the country-western bar last summer when she’d helped them substantiate a suspect’s alibi.

“They were trying to set up the pool at the Eagle?” Hannah asked him.

“Trying is the operative word. Since they didn’t have a hose, they recruited everybody at the bar to carry out beer mugs filled with water and dump them in the pool. Lonnie and I figured it would have taken them at least four days to fill it up enough for a swim.”

“So you caught them and arrested them?” Norman asked.

Mike shook his head. “It seems they were drinking buddies with the owner of the truck. And once they agreed to help him unload the pool at his house, and he agreed to let them go for a swim, everybody went off happy. But I missed the wedding and I’m sorry about that.” Mike turned to Norman. “Give your mother and Earl my apologies, okay? And tell them I’ll see them later.”

“Let’s head out to the Lake Eden Inn,” Norman suggested after Mike had left.

Hannah glanced at her dress watch, squinting a bit to read the tiny numbers. She was used to the big dial on the watch she wore at work where time was of the essence and a minute or two more could turn a boiled frosting into concrete. “If we leave now, we’ll be an hour early for the reception.”

“Good. I want to check my video equipment to make sure everything’s working right.” Norman stopped speaking and frowned slightly. “Did I give you the bag of cat treats and toys I bought?”

Hannah turned to smile at him. “Yes, you did. But there’s enough in that bag for a month and you’re only going to be gone for three nights.”

“I know. It’s just that I’ve never left Cuddles before and I wanted to make sure she had everything she needed.”

“But how about the time Marguerite took her up north?” Hannah asked, remembering the vacation Cuddles and her former owner had taken last summer.

“That’s different. I didn’t leave Cuddles. Cuddles left me.” Norman was silent for a moment and then he began to grin. “That sounds a little crazy, doesn’t it?”

“Not a bit. I’d feel the same way.”

Hannah reviewed the plan in her mind as they walked to Norman’s car. Once the reception was over, Norman would be driving his mother and Earl to the international airport in Minneapolis where they would catch a midnight flight to Rome. They were touring Italy for their honeymoon, somewhere Carrie had always wanted to go. Norman would see them off and then he’d drive to the hotel where he’d be staying for three nights. On Monday he’d meet up with some friends from dental school who were opening a clinic in St. Paul, tour the building they’d chosen for their clinic, and then they’d all go out to dinner together. On Tuesday he’d attend the grand opening, stay over that night, and drive back to Lake Eden Wednesday morning in time for his first appointment. He’d pick up Cuddles that night after work, and his cat would have almost seventy-two hours to spend playing with her best friend, Moishe.

“Do you think we should check on the cats before we drive out to the reception?” Norman asked.

“We can stop at the condo if you’re worried about them, but I’m sure they’re fine. I filled the Kitty Valet with food before we left and Moishe’s always been a real gentleman about letting Cuddles eat first. They’re probably snuggled up on the couch together, watching the Animal Channel.”

“You’re right. No sense in disturbing them.” Norman opened all four doors of his car to let the heat out before he gestured for Hannah to get inside. “I’ll get the air conditioning on right away,” he promised.

It was a hot afternoon and Hannah was glad that the air conditioning in Norman’s sedan was better than the air conditioning in her cookie truck. Even if she turned it on full blast, someone blowing over the top of an ice cube would be more effective. Riding in Norman’s well-maintained car was a welcome treat, and by the time they pulled out of the church parking lot, cool air was already beginning to pour out of the vents. “I just love your car!” she said with a sigh, leaning back against the headrest.

The moment the words were out of her mouth, she regretted them. They’d just come from a wedding and that meant both of them had weddings on the mind. It would be natural for Norman, who really wanted her to accept the proposal he’d tendered over a year ago, to say, Marry me and I’ll buy you one just like it. Or, Just say yes and I’ll make everything easy for you, Hannah. Or even, Did you see how happy Mother was? I’d make you even happier if you’d marry me.

But Norman didn’t say any of those things. Instead, he just laughed. “You don’t love my car. You love my air conditioning.”

“It’s true.” Hannah hung her head in pretended shame. “I’m just a fool for a good-looking condenser and powerful vents.”

Norman chortled. There was no other word for it. It was a sound that was midway between a chuckle and a gurgle and it made Hannah smile to know she’d caused it. There was no greater gift than making someone laugh. People who laughed were happy.

It was a huge party. Almost everyone they knew in town was there, but the Swensen sisters had found each other and snagged a table. Hannah, Andrea, and Michelle were seated at a rectangular table at the edge of the dance floor. Their mother, Delores, sat at one end, looking no more than a decade older than her daughters.

“And you’re going to fill in at Granny’s Attic while Carrie’s on her honeymoon?” Hannah asked Michelle.

“That’s right.” Michelle turned to smile at her mother. “I’ve got a whole month before I have to be back at Macalester, and Mother’s promised me a commission on any antiques I sell.”

“And an hourly wage on top of that,” Delores amended her youngest daughter’s statement, and then she turned to Hannah. “Michelle will be able to stay with you for a while, won’t she, dear? I’m having the hardwood floors redone and it could take several weeks.”

“Not a problem. Michelle can stay with me anytime she wants.”

Michelle turned to give Hannah a grin. “Thanks!”

“I should be the one to thank you. The last time you stayed over, you made breakfast for me. And the day you left, you stripped your bed and washed the sheets. Not only that, you emptied the drier and folded all my clothes. I love it when you stay with me.”

All four Swensens looked up as a man stopped by their table. It was Lonnie Murphy, the deputy sheriff Michelle dated when she was in town. “Hi, Shelly. Do you want to dance?” he asked.

“I’d love to!” Michelle smiled, got up from her chair, and took Lonnie’s arm. She looked genuinely delighted to be asked as they stepped out onto the dance floor.

Hannah hid a grin. Michelle hated to be called Shelly. It was the name her fourth grade class had given to the box turtle they kept in their terrarium. She’d once told Hannah she thought that Shelly was a great name for a turtle but not for her, and she’d engaged in several hair-pulling fights on the school playground with anyone who’d dared to call her by that nickname. Obviously things had changed. When Lonnie called her Shelly, Michelle just smiled at him. Hannah figured that must be love, or at least a close facsimile.

“Delores. Just the person I wanted to see.” Bud Hauge approached their table. He owned the welding shop in town and Hannah knew he’d worked on several broken antiques for her mother.

“Bud.” Delores acknowledged him with a nod. “Don’t tell me you can’t weld the rocker on my treadle sewing machine.”

“Okay. I won’t tell you I can’t weld your sewing machine.”

“Bud!” There was a warning tone in their mother’s voice and Hannah exchanged grins with Andrea. Delores had gone to school with Bud and he loved to tease her.

“Just kidding. It’s all ready for you, good as new. I’ll drop it by Granny’s Attic tomorrow morning.”

“Thank you, Bud. That’s perfect. I’d like you to take a look at something else we bought. Have you ever done any restoration on grave art?”

Bud gave a little shrug. “I don’t know. They bring it in, I weld it. What’s grave art?”

“It’s a tribute for a grave, a statue or some kind of decoration chosen by the family. Commonly they’re made of marble or granite, but this one is metal.”

“What is it? An angel or something like that?”

“No, it’s a fish.”

“A fish?” Both Andrea and Hannah spoke at once since Bud appeared to be rendered speechless.

“I believe it’s a walleye pike. It’s not so unusual if you consider that families like to personalize the graves of their dearly departed.”

Dearly departed? Hannah stared at her mother in shock. She’d never heard anyone use that phrase outside the walls of a church. “So some dead person inside, whoever he was, liked to fish?”

“I assume so, dear. We have several examples of grave art at the shop. They’re from the family mausoleum section of Spring Brook Cemetery and they date back to the eighteen hundreds.”

“They’re tearing down part of that section, aren’t they, Mother?” Andrea asked.

“They’re relocating it, dear. The city council feels that the crypts are in such bad repair, they could be dangerous.”

“How could they be dangerous if everyone who’s in them is dead?” Hannah asked.

Andrea and Bud burst into laughter, and Hannah noticed that Delores did all she could do to keep a straight face. “That’s not very nice, dear,” she chided her eldest daughter.

“But it’s funny,” Bud said, still chuckling.

“And it’s true,” Andrea added.

“Well, be that as it may, the council decided to take down the crumbling mausoleums and relocate the … um … contents.”

“All of them?” Hannah asked, remembering how she used to ride her bike out to the old part of the cemetery and walk past the giant stone angels and carved headstones. “I used to love the pink granite mausoleum with the columns in the front.”

“That belongs to the Evans family and Florence has agreed to repair it. Four generations of her family are buried there. The problem the council had was with some of the other mausoleums. At least a dozen were unclaimed. Either the families moved to parts unknown, or there are no living relatives.”

“Those are the ones they’re tearing down?” Bud asked.

“That’s right. But some of the grave art can’t be moved to the new gravesites. Either it’s in bad repair or it’s simply too large. Carrie and I are taking whatever we can salvage to sell at Granny’s Attic and we’ll donate the proceeds to the relocation fund.”

“That’s nice of you, Mother,” Andrea said. “But do you really think that anybody will buy a walleye for a grave?”

“It’s already sold, dear. Winnie Henderson is buying it for her family crypt. She’s kept it up over the years, but she never got around to ordering any kind of decoration.”

“And she wants the walleye?” Bud looked astonished.

“Yes. One of her husbands just loved to hunt and fish. I think it was the third one?”

“I thought it was the fourth,” Hannah said.

“Whatever. Winnie said his fishing buddy wanted all his fishing tackle, so she couldn’t put any inside. All she had were his hunting things.”

“She put those inside?” Andrea asked.

“Yes, and that’s why she wants the walleye. Winnie wants everyone to know that he was a great fisherman as well as a good hunter.”

“Sounds like what the Egyptians did with the pyramids,” Bud commented. “Does Winnie believe he’ll use them in the afterlife?”

“I don’t know, Bud. Winnie has some strange notions and I didn’t really get into it with her.”

“Wait a second,” Bud said, looking a little worried. “She didn’t put any guns in there, did she?”

“Heavens, no! She kept the guns. She said you never know when you need firearms out on the farm. She shot a lynx last year, right before it attacked one of her calves.”

“Is a lynx the same as a wildcat?” Andrea turned to Hannah. “I always get those two mixed up.”

“A lot of people do. The bobcat’s genus is lynx, but if you’re thinking of the Canadian lynx we see here in Minnesota, they’re twice as big as bobcats, and they have snow-shoe paws.”

Delores laughed. “I don’t think Winnie got close enough to examine its paws.”

“But was the bobcat Winnie shot a Canadian lynx?” Andrea asked.

“Probably,” Bud answered her question, “especially if it was attacking something as big as a calf.”

“Maybe it was a cougar, or a … a mountain lion.” Andrea was obviously struggling with the nomenclature. “Or don’t we have any of those here?”

“I think cougars are another name for mountain lions,” Hannah told her. “And if I remember correctly, they’re lumped in there somewhere with pumas and panthers.”

“But do we have mountain lions here?” Andrea repeated her question. “We don’t have any mountains in Minnesota.”

“You’re right,” Bud said. “Most of them are farther west, but they migrate over here once in awhile. They’re adaptable, and if there’s not enough food where they are, they go in search of it.”

“Then you think the big cat that Winnie shot might be a mountain lion?” Hannah asked him.

“I doubt it. If you spot a big cat here, it’s probably a Canadian lynx.” He turned to Delores. “Tell me more about that walleye. What’s wrong with it?”

“It’s missing one of its fins. That’s why I asked if you’d ever done any restoration work. Do you think you could fabricate a fin and weld it on?”

“Yes, but only if you dance with me.”

“What?!”

“Only if you dance with me. This is our song … remember?”

Delores didn’t say a word, but she got to her feet and took Bud’s arm. Hannah noticed that her mother’s cheeks were bright pink as Bud led her to the dance floor and took her in his arms.

“I wonder if Bud’s an old flame,” Andrea mused.

“He could be. Mother told me she dated a lot in high school.”

“You mean our mother played the field?”

“You could call it that, I guess. I know she wasn’t serious about anyone until Dad came along.”

Both sisters were silent as their mother danced by with Bud. Then Andrea turned to Hannah. “I wonder if she feels lonely now that Carrie’s married again.”

“I don’t know. She hasn’t said anything about it. Then again, she probably wouldn’t. Do you want me to ask her?”

“No! That’ll only make her think about it, if she’s not thinking about it already. It’s just that … I was wondering if we should keep an eye on her … just in case.”

“Just in case what?”

“Just in case she falls in love again. Remember what happened with Winthrop?”

“I’ll never forget it, but I really don’t think that’ll happen again.”

“Why not?”

“Because Mother’s wiser now, and there aren’t any new, fascinating men with British accents who’ve moved to Lake Eden. Mother’s known all the eligible local men for years.”

“I know that, but …”

“Besides,” Hannah went on, “Mother doesn’t seem in terested in anything but friendship. And the men seem to feel exactly the same way.”

“Really?” Andrea nudged Hannah and gestured toward the dance floor. “Take a good look and tell me that again.”

Hannah scanned the couples on the floor and located Delores dancing with Joe Dietz. Their mother was looking up at Joe and smiling in what Hannah thought could be a mildly flirtatious way. “What’s Mother doing with Joe Dietz? I thought she was dancing with Bud!”

“She was, but not anymore. Joe cut in on Doc Knight.”

“Doc Knight? How did Doc Knight get into the picture?”

“Doc cut in on Bud.”

“But it can’t be more than a minute since Mother left the table! Are you telling me that she’s had three dance partners already?”

“Yes, and number four is on the horizon and approaching fast. Look to your left.”

Hannah followed Andrea’s direction and watched as Pete Nunke walked out on the dance floor and made a beeline for Delores and Joe Dietz. There was no doubt that Andrea was correct when Pete tapped Joe on the shoulder.

“See what I mean?” Andrea asked.

“I see.”

Both sisters watched as Joe tried to wave Pete away. There was a moment of good-natured banter between the two men and then Delores said something to Pete. His response caused her to throw back her head and laugh in obvious delight, leaving no doubt that she relished being the belle of the ball at her best friend’s wedding.

“Mother’s very popular tonight,” Andrea said as De-lores went into Pete’s arms.

“Yes, she is.”

“From where I’m sitting, she looks as if she’s enjoying every minute of it,” Andrea commented, “and it looks like it could be a little more than simple friendship to me.”

Hannah sighed. Her sister was right. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to keep an eye on Mother … especially since all the bachelors and widowers in Lake Eden seem to be doing the same thing!”

Chapter Two

She was being crushed between two boulders … except they weren’t boulders. They couldn’t be boulders. Boulders were hard and cold. These were softer, and they were warm. She couldn’t be certain what material they were made of, but she was totally restrained by whatever it was.

Her arms must be bound, or perhaps wedged at her sides, because she couldn’t move them. Her legs also seemed to be trussed or contained in some manner. Why was she imprisoned like this? She couldn’t remember, and she wasn’t even certain that she’d ever been told.

There was a noise in the dark, way in the distance. She struggled to identify it for a moment, and then her mind, which seemed to operate in slow-motion, latched onto an image of a truck. It was the sound of a motor running, perhaps several motors running. Was she about to be moved from this place of confinement and transported to another location?

The rumbling continued, echoing around her, filling her head with questions. How had she been brought here? Who was responsible? And when there were no answers to those questions, her mind turned to others.

How high was high? What made the wind blow? No one could disagree that she was thinking. Did that mean that she existed? But this line of thought was not productive in her current situation. She ought to attempt to find a way to break out of her confinement and not waste time woolgathering.

Woolgathering. The words swirled in her mind, back and forth, around and around. The letters were made up of little puffy balls of cotton wool and it reminded her of sheep the size of kittens. And there was something about kittens, something about the fog creeping in … but that was cats. And these sheep were … cats!

“Off!” Hannah ordered, startling the two cats and sending them leaping from the bed. No wonder she’d dreamed about being wrapped up like a mummy! It had gotten cold and damp in the wee hours of the morning. Moishe and Cuddles must have felt the chill, because they’d moved from the living room couch to her bed. There they’d climbed up on her pillow, Moishe on the left and Cuddles on the right, moving closer and closer to her as they slept. For all intents and purposes, she’d ended up with two cats glued tightly to either side of her head.

A glance at the clock on her bedside table made Hannah groan. It was already a quarter to four and she had to get up in forty-five minutes. By the time she made a trip to the bathroom and got back in bed, only forty minutes of sleep time would be left. And by the time she actually calmed down, gave the cats several scratches behind the ears to apologize for startling them, and got back to sleep, it would be almost time to get up again.

And now, just thinking about it and figuring out the times, she was wide awake. No sense even trying for the few additional minutes of sleep that she might possibly gain. It was better to get up and try the recipe her college friend, Beth, had sent her for Vanilla Crack, to see if they could use it at The Cookie Jar. It certainly seemed easy to make and they had nothing else like it on the cookie menu.

By the time the little hand was a smidgen short of the four and the big hand was flirting with the eleven, Hannah emerged from the bathroom squeaky clean. She dressed quickly in the clothing she’d set out the previous night, and before the second hand could tick off the remaining three clicks to the hour, she was ready for the day that had not yet arrived.

“Thanks a lot, guys,” she said to the two felines who were now nestled on her pillow, sound asleep, and walked down the carpeted hallway toward the kitchen. As she passed the closed guest room door, she listened for any sound that might indicate Michelle was awake. Her youngest sister had come home just as Hannah was going to bed, and both of them had been too tired to do more than say goodnight.

When she got to the kitchen, Hannah flicked on the banks of fluorescent lights that turned the white-walled room into the luminance of day, and re-read the recipe she’d received in the mail. It was even easier than she’d remembered, and she had all the ingredients on hand, including a fresh box of soda crackers. Then she set the recipe down on the counter and completed the first step toward a successful baking experience. She poured herself a cup of coffee to wake up.

The first sip was heaven. Hannah gave a deep sigh of pleasure and sank down on one of the plastic-covered chrome tube chairs that would eventually become antiques. Could anything be better than the first cup of coffee in the morning?

Hannah sat there relishing the experience, concentrating on the dark, rich taste. It was full-bodied but not bitter, and that meant the beans had been roasted to perfection. She definitely liked the new coffee Florence Evans, owner of Lake Eden’s Red Owl Grocery Store, had ordered for her. It was called Silver Joe’s, and they were trying it out at The Cookie Jar this morning. If their customers liked it, they’d switch. And that just went to prove that there was an upside to keeping in touch with old classmates. Who would have guessed that Pat Vota, the bratty boy who had pushed her off the dock every time they’d gone swimming at Eden Lake, would end up as a top executive at a gourmet coffee company?

Once her cup was empty and the morning caffeine had performed its miraculous cure, Hannah poured a second cup and began to gather ingredients. The list was short and consisted of only four items: butter, white sugar, vanilla, and salted soda crackers. Since there was a variation called Chocolate Crack, Hannah also carried a canister of brown sugar and a bag of chocolate chips to the counter. She had just filled a saucepan with butter, sugar, and vanilla when the phone rang.

Hannah turned to glance at the clock. It was four thirty-five. Who would call her this early? Visions of crippling auto accidents, life-threatening medical emergencies, and violent crimes befalling friends and family filled her mind with dread as she rushed over to answer it.

“Hello?” Hannah answered, hoping it was a wrong number. Anything else was likely to announce a disaster.

“Good morning, Hannah.”

“Norman?” Hannah could scarcely believe her ears as she recognized the cheery voice. It was Norman, calling her on his cell phone, and he sounded alert and wide awake. “Is everything all right?”

“Yes, but I woke up too early. I couldn’t sleep without Cuddles.”

And I couldn’t sleep WITH Cuddles, Hannah thought, but of course she didn’t say it.

“So how did she sleep?” Norman continued.

“Cuddles slept just fine. So did Moishe,” Hannah replied, deciding not to tell him about her rude awakening with both cats plastered to her head.

“Good. Well … I’d better let you go then. I know you’re probably just getting ready for work.”

Hannah gave a little smile. “Actually, I’m baking. I’m testing a new recipe a friend sent me for Vanilla Crack.”

“Is that a cookie?”

“Not really. I guess you could say it’s a cross between a cookie and a candy.”

“Sounds interesting. Will you save one for me when I come to pick up Cuddles on Wednesday night?”

“Of course I will.”

“Okay then. I’d better try to catch a little more sleep. I’m meeting the old gang to take a tour of the clinic this afternoon, and then we’re all going out for dinner.”

“Have fun.”

“I will. It’s been three years since I’ve seen these guys. We’ll probably spend most of the night playing catch-up.”

Hannah said goodbye and hung up the phone feeling envious. Norman was going back to bed. She wished she could go back to sleep and get up much, much later.

It didn’t take long to boil the butter and sugar the required amount of time. Hannah had just added the vanilla and poured it over the bed of soda crackers she’d arranged on a cookie sheet when her phone rang again.

It only took a moment to sprinkle on a few pieces of salted nuts, slip the pan into the preheated oven, and set the timer. Hannah managed to answer the phone on the third ring. “Hello?”

“Hannah!” It was Andrea’s voice and she sounded anxious. “I’m sorry to call so early, but I knew you’d be up and I really need to talk to you. It’s about … oh drat! Bill’s out of the shower and I can’t talk now. I’m showing two houses this morning, but I’ll come in this afternoon, okay?”

“Fine, but …” Hannah stopped talking when she realized that her sister had hung up. She stood there staring at the receiver for a moment and then she returned it to the cradle. Andrea was usually a late riser. What had happened to get her up before dawn? Or had she been sleepless all night, worrying about something?”

The timer dinged and Hannah removed the pan of Vanilla Crack from the oven. It smelled marvelous. She removed the pieces from the cookie sheet on a wire rack to harden and gave a little smile of satisfaction.

“What smells so heavenly?”

Hannah whirled around to see her youngest sister standing in the kitchen doorway, wearing a red and black checkered nightshirt and pink bunny slippers.

“It’s a new cookie called Vanilla Crack.”

“Vanilla Crack?” Michelle’s eyebrows approached the edge of her honey-brown bangs. “Do you know what crack is?”

“Of course I know what crack is.”

“But you’re still going to call this cookie Vanilla Crack?”

“Yes, I am. There’s no way I’m going to let a slang term invented by a scroungy dope dealer spoil my friend’s cookie name. They’re called Vanilla Crack, and Chocolate Crack, because the syrup is poured on crackers. And anybody who objects to the use of a perfectly good English word because illiterate criminals use it is an idiot!”

Michelle backed up a step and held up her hands, palms facing Hannah. “Okay. Forget I mentioned it. You’re absolutely right. I just didn’t know if you knew that it might have negative connotations. It smells divine, though. I think I’ll try a piece for breakfast, if that’s all right with you.”

“For breakfast?!” Hannah heard her own words, more than a little censorious, echoing back to her. It wasn’t that long ago she’d been a college student like Michelle, and she’d eaten cold pizza for breakfast. On the scale of nutritional correctness, was a piece of Vanilla Crack that much lower than a piece of cold pepperoni pizza?

“Hannah? Can I try a piece of Vanilla Crack for breakfast?”

“It’s may I. And yes, you may. Let me know how you like it while I start on the Chocolate Crack. And be careful. It hasn’t had long to cool and it could be too hot to eat.”

Michelle reached out to touch the confection on the cooling racks while Hannah arranged graham crackers on another cookie sheet. Then she put butter and brown sugar into her saucepan and brought it to a boil. She boiled it for the required five minutes, poured it over the graham crackers on the cookie sheet, and slipped the sheet in the oven. She’d just measured out the chocolate chips she’d need once it finished baking when she noticed that there was a large empty space on the cooling rack. “You’ve already eaten a quarter of a pan?” she asked Michelle.

“I guess I was hungry,” Michelle said a bit sheepishly. “It was great, Hannah. It’s just like a flaky candy bar. Is the Chocolate Crack almost done? I’d like to taste that, too.”

“Ten minutes in the oven, five minutes to cool, and you can have a taste … or maybe another quarter-pan. You’re pretty wide awake for someone who didn’t get home until after midnight last night. I thought you said Lonnie had to work a swing shift.”

“He did work a swing shift. And before he went to the sheriff’s station, he dropped me off at the community college. It was jazz night at the Cave,” Michelle named the little bistro on campus that hosted student entertainment in the evenings, “and I met some friends. I caught a ride here with one of them.”

“Oh.” Hannah turned away to hide her worried expression. She hoped the friends Michelle had at the college didn’t include Bradford Ramsey. She’d been meaning to warn Michelle about the unscrupulous professor ever since her youngest sister had invited him to Christmas Eve dinner, but the time had never seemed right. Hannah supposed now was as good a time as any, but the thought of imparting such an embarrassing confidence at shortly after five in the morning made her courage shrink up and her voice turn mute.

“What is it?” Michelle asked, locking eyes with Hannah. “You look … pained. Is it the coffee on an empty stomach?”

“Heavens, no!” Hannah said, and changed the subject quickly. “That reminds me … what do you think of the coffee? We’re trying a new brand at The Cookie Jar and I brought some home to test.”

“It’s really good. I like it better than the old kind. But you haven’t told me what’s wrong?”

Hannah sighed. She supposed she really should answer Michelle. She steeled herself to introduce the subject, but just as she was about to speak, the phone rang. “Oops. I’d better get that,” she said, and grabbed the phone. “Hello?”

“Hi, Hannah. It’s Mike. I’m not calling too early, am I?”

“I’ve been up for an hour, Mike,” Hannah answered, using his name deliberately so that Michelle would know who it was.

“Tell him hi from me,” Michelle said, hopping up from her chair. “I’m going to go get dressed. By that time, the Chocolate Crack should be cool enough to try.”

“Did she say Chocolate Crack?” Mike asked, and Hannah could hear the shock in his voice.

“That’s right. It’s a new recipe. And I do know what crack is. This crack refers to one of the ingredients, crackers, and I’m not about to change the cookie name because some criminals use it for drug slang.”

“Okay. Okay. I just wanted you to know, that’s all.” Mike backed off quickly. “Have you heard from Norman?”

“Yes, at four thirty-five this morning. He told me he couldn’t sleep well without Cuddles.”

“That figures. It’s all a matter of habit. When I was growing up, I slept in a room with my older brothers. When they moved out, it took me a week before I could sleep through the night. It was just too quiet, you know?”

“I do know. So what’s up, Mike? You don’t usually call this time of the morning just to chat.”

Mike gave a little laugh. “You know me too well, and you’re right. Do you know where Norman is staying in the Cities?”

“No, and I didn’t ask him when he called. I should have, but I guess it was just too early to operate on full brainpower.”

“I know what you mean.”

“Do you want me to ask if he calls again? He’ll probably get in touch with me sometime this evening.”

“That’ll be too late. I need to call and ask him where he hides his extra key.”

“Which key?”

“His house key. I know he hides one somewhere outside.”

“Did Norman tell you that?”

“No, but almost all the homeowners do it. It could be nasty if you got locked outside by accident in the winter.”

“True,” Hannah said and then she was silent. She wasn’t about to give away Norman’s hiding place until she knew more about why Mike needed that information.

“So do you know where he hides it?”

“Yes. Why do you want to know?”

“One of Norman’s neighbors was driving by on her way to work the early shift at DelRay this morning, and she saw a light flick off upstairs. She knew that Norman was gone, so she called the station to report it.”

“That was nice of her.”

“Yes, it was. It’s probably a light on a timer or something like that, but I’m driving out there to check it out. I’ll jimmy a window or something if I have to, but it’d be a lot easier if I had a key.”

“Of course it would. I’ve got a key here, but it’ll be a lot faster if you drive straight out there and use Norman’s hidden key. There’s a concrete statue of a moose under the pine tree to the left of the front door. The key’s in its mouth.”

“Wow!” Mike was clearly impressed. “That’s a great hiding place. I never would have thought to look there. Most people hide their keys under flowerpots on the front porch, or they’ve got one of those silly little rocks that’s hollowed out to hold a key.”

Hannah frowned. Mike had just described the rock she had in her planter by the front door. “Do criminals know about those rocks?”

“Sure they do. And just in case they’re not smart enough to figure it out, all they have to do is flip the rock over and it says, Hide-A-Key on the flap that slides over the hole.” Mike stopped speaking for a moment and then he chuckled. “Don’t tell me you’ve got one of those!”

“Not anymore.”

“Good. Thanks for the information, Hannah. I’ll check out Norman’s house right away.”

“I’ll be leaving for work in just a couple of minutes. Will you call me on my cell phone if there’s anything wrong?”

“Sure, but you’ll have to remember to turn it on.”

“I’ll turn it on,” she promised, more than a little amused. She had a habit of turning off her cell phone when she didn’t want to receive calls and forgetting to turn it back on again.

“Do you want to go out for a burger tonight after I finish my shift?”

An outsider to their complicated relationship might have thought that Mike was following the old adage, Make hay while the sun shines, and taking advantage of the fact that Norman was out of town. Hannah knew that simply wasn’t true. If Mike felt like asking her to go out for a burger, he’d ask her whether Norman was in town, or not.

“That sounds nice,” she responded. “What time?”

“I’ll pick you up at your place at six, and we’ll run out to the Corner Tavern. They’ve got a new burger with peanut butter and peppers inside. It comes with something called an onion bouquet, and I want to try it.”

Hannah said goodbye, and when she hung up the receiver, she was smiling. She was still smiling after she’d taken the Chocolate Crack out of the oven, sprinkled the top with chocolate chips, and spread them out into a frosting with a spatula. When she’d first met Mike, she’d suspected that he was a meat and potatoes man, a typical Midwesterner who hadn’t strayed far from the cuisine his parents and grandparents had enjoyed. And then he’d met her and his world had changed, although the jury was still out on whether it was for the better, or the worse.

It had all started with the Jalapeno Brownies she’d baked for him and left on his desk at the sheriff’s station in retaliation for saying that someone else’s brownies were the best he’d ever tasted. But like many attempts to retaliate, this one had turned out to be a joke … on her! Mike had loved the brownies and Hannah credited them for opening up his eyes to the exciting possibilities of unorthodox food combinations. On the other hand, her fiery hot brownies could have permanently shocked his taste buds into complete passivity, leaving him completely open to sampling any gastronomic innovation, worthy or not.

VANILLA CRACK

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F., rack in the middle position.

1 box salted soda crackers. (I used Saltines)

2 sticks salted butter (1 cup, 8 ounces, ½ pound)

1 cup white (granulated) sugar

2 teaspoons vanilla extract

½ cup salted nut pieces

Line a 10-inch by 15-inch cookie sheet with heavy-duty foil. If you have a jellyroll pan, that’s perfect. If you don’t, turn up the edges of the foil to form sides.

Spray the foil with Pam or other nonstick cooking spray. (You want to be able to peel it off later, after the cookies harden.)

Cover the pan completely with a single layer of soda crackers, salt side up. (You can break the crackers in pieces to make them fit if you have to.) Set the cracker-lined jellyroll pan or cookie sheet aside while you cook the topping.

Combine the butter with the white sugar and vanilla in a heavy saucepan. Bring it to a full boil over medium high heat on the stovetop, stirring constantly. (A full boil will have breaking bubbles all over the surface of the pan.) Boil it for exactly five (5) minutes, stirring it constantly. If it sputters too much, you can reduce the heat. If it starts to lose the boil, you can increase the heat. Just don’t stop stirring.

Pour the mixture over the soda crackers as evenly as you can.

Hannah’s Note: I start by pouring the mixture in lines from top to bottom over the length of the pan. Then I turn it and pour more lines over the width of the pan. Once the whole pan is cross-hatched with the hot toffee mixture, I pour any that’s left where it’s needed. If it doesn’t cover the soda crackers completely, don’t worry—it’ll spread out quite a bit in the oven.

Sprinkle the salted nut pieces over the top.

Slide the pan into the oven and bake the cookies at 350 degrees F. for ten (10) minutes.

Remove the pan from the oven and let it cool on a wire rack.

When the cookies have thoroughly cooled, peel off the foil and break them into random-sized pieces.

CHOCOLATE CRACK

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F., rack in the middle position.

1 box graham crackers. (I used Nabisco Honey Maid)

2 sticks salted butter (1 cup, 8 ounces, ½ pound)

1 cup brown sugar (pack it down when you measure it)

2 cups semi-sweet chocolate chips (12-ounce package)

Line a 10-inch by 15-inch cookie sheet with heavy-duty foil. If you have a jellyroll pan, that’s perfect. If you don’t, turn up the edges of the foil to form sides.

Spray the foil with Pam or another nonstick cooking spray. (You want to be able to peel it off later, after the candy hardens.)

Line the pan completely with a single layer of graham crackers. Cover the whole bottom. (You can break the crackers in pieces to make them fit if you have to.) Set the cracker-lined jellyroll pan or cookie sheet aside while you cook the toffee mixture.

Combine the butter with the brown sugar in a saucepan. Bring it to a boil over medium high heat on the stovetop, stirring constantly. (A full boil will have breaking bubbles all over the surface of the pan.) Boil it for exactly five (5) minutes, stirring it constantly. If it sputters too much, you can reduce the heat. If it starts to lose the boil, you can increase the heat. Just don’t stop stirring.

Pour the mixture over the graham crackers as evenly as you can.

Hannah’s Note: I start by pouring the mixture in lines from top to bottom over the length of the pan. Then I turn it and pour more lines over the width of the pan. Once the whole pan is cross-hatched with the hot toffee mixture, I pour any that’s left where it’s needed. If it doesn’t cover the crackers completely, don’t worry—it’ll spread out quite a bit in the oven.

Slide the pan into the oven and bake the cookies at 350 degrees F. for ten (10) minutes.

Remove the pan from the oven and sprinkle the chocolate chips over the top. Give the chips a minute or two to melt and then spread them out as evenly as you can with a heat-resistant spatula, a wooden paddle, or a frosting knife.

Slip the pan in the refrigerator to chill.

When the pan has chilled, peel the foil from the cookies and break them into random-sized pieces.

Chapter Three

“Nothing succeeds like excess,” Hannah siad, looking up from her position behind the counter at The Cookie Jar as Mayor Richard Bascomb and his wife, Stephanie, came in the door.

Hannah’s partner, Lisa, took one look at the female half of Lake Eden’s first couple and burst out laughing, a gaffe she quickly covered by pretending to cough. Stephanie Bascomb was resplendent in a bright blue suit of raw silk with a stylish blue hat. Her frilly blouse matched the blooms on her hat, which Hannah identified as slightly more purple than the cornflowers growing wild in Winnie Henderson’s back forty. The first lady’s gloves were bright-blue leather and her chic leather pumps were of the same hue. A large sapphire surrounded with diamonds graced her right hand and she wore a matching set of necklace and earrings.

“Hannah! And Lisa!” Mrs. Bascomb greeted them with the same surprised tone she might have used if she were traveling and happened to run into them at a Buddhist monastery in Sri Lanka.

Hannah exchanged puzzled glances with Lisa. Where else would they be during the hours The Cookie Jar was open for business?

“Good to see you, Mayor,” Hannah said, and then she turned to the woman who spared no expense buying herself a stunning new outfit every time she found out about one of her husband’s dalliances. The mayor’s last peccadillo must have been particularly flagrant to warrant a suit, hat, gloves, shoes, and a fortune in gemstones. “You’re a vision in blue, Stephanie.”

“Do you like it?” Stephanie asked, twirling around so that Hannah could see the flared skirt below the impeccably tailored jacket.

“I just love that color,” Hannah answered truthfully, neglecting to mention that it was indeed possible to get too much of a good thing. Stephanie was living proof that the concept of overkill could be applied to fashion.

Stephanie turned to Lisa. “How about you, Lisa? Do you like my new outfit?”

Hannah waited breathlessly for Lisa’s answer. Her partner, well known for hating to hurt anyone’s feelings, would have to think fast on this one.

“It’s stunning,” Lisa said, and Hannah mentally congratulated her young partner for choosing a word with several shades of meaning. “Wherever did you get it?” Lisa continued breathlessly. “Unless, of course, you’re keeping that secret to yourself.”

“Well …” Stephanie considered it for a moment. “It’s a new, very exclusive shop at the mall. You have to know someone to get in. Everything they have is incredibly expensive …” Stephanie turned to her husband. “But I do think it’s worth it, don’t you, Richard?”

“Yes, definitely worth it,” the mayor pronounced, smiling at his wife. “Aren’t you going to tell them the secret about your charity gala, my sweetness?”

My sweetness! Hannah stared hard at their town’s most indiscreet Romeo. Although she didn’t usually place much credence in gossip, she might have to ask her mother about the mayor’s most recent transgression. De-lores was the founding member of what Hannah called The Lake Eden Gossip Hotline, and in a town the size of Lake Eden, everyone knew everything about everybody. It was possible to keep a three-way secret, but only if two of the three people were permanently billeted at Spring Brook Cemetery.

“I might just tell them,” Stephanie answered playfully, “but only if we can have some of their fabulous cookies and coffee.”

Hannah poured the coffee while Lisa took cookie orders from Lake Eden’s first couple. When they’d seated themselves at a table near the back of the coffee shop, Hannah opened the discussion with a question. “What’s all this about your gala, Stephanie?”

“I’ll tell you, but only if you promise to keep the details a secret.” She turned to Lisa and Hannah. “Girls?”

Although Hannah hadn’t been called a girl in a month of Sundays, perhaps even much longer, she nodded. It was what Stephanie expected. Lisa did the same. and both the mayor and his wife gave them smiles of approval.

“I’m sure you’ve heard that I agreed to chair the Lake Eden Combined Charities Drive this year,” Stephanie said.

“We knew that,” Hannah told her. “It was in the Lake Eden Journal last week.”

“But here’s something that wasn’t in the papers.” Stephanie leaned across the table. “I managed to book Samantha Summerfield as the guest speaker at the opening luncheon.”

“The same Samantha Summerfield who’s on Hello Handsome?” Lisa asked.

“That’s right. She’s in Minneapolis visiting her family while the show’s on hiatus. Isn’t that exciting?”

“Very exciting!” Lisa’s eyes were like saucers. “But why would she come here? To Lake Eden?”

“Because she wants to help our charities.” Stephanie looked smug. “She believes she can help us raise money for a worthy cause.”

How much of a cut are you giving her? Hannah wanted to ask. And if that wasn’t it, her second question would be, What bargaining chip do you have to hang over her head? But she asked nothing. Stephanie and the mayor wouldn’t tell them anyway. Instead, Hannah locked eyes with Lisa. Her glance said, Watch out! She wants something! And Lisa’s return glance replied, Thanks for warning me. I’ll be careful.

“Now, not a word to anyone,” Stephanie went on, “not until the news breaks on KCOW television tonight. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” Lisa breathed.

“Fine,” Hannah said, not particularly impressed with the sitcom actress who was gracing their charity luncheon with her presence.

“The charity drive is incredibly important this year,” Stephanie went on. “We need to raise more money than we’ve ever raised before. We have six projects that are red-flagged and we simply have to find the money to fund them!”

Hannah and Lisa listened as Stephanie gave them an overview. It seemed that the Children’s Home needed a new roof; Jordan High had to update their computer equipment; The Senior Center had a budget that was much too small for their needs; and the Piggy Bank, a fund that provided clothing and school supplies for underprivileged children, had completely run out of money. Marge Beese-man, their volunteer librarian, had requested several reference works and a microfiche reader, and although Janice Cox’s preschool, Kiddie Korner, was self-sufficient, she’d asked the combined charity for the money to put in a small kitchen so that she could serve a hot lunch to her students.

“And that’s just the tip of the iceberg,” Stephanie told them, ending her recital with a dramatic sigh. “I know times are tough right now, but my goal is to present a truly gala event, a three-day happening that everyone in the Tri-County Area will want to attend.”

“Attend and pledge to the cause,” Mayor Bascomb added.

“Exactly right. Of course we can’t use the Lake Eden Community Center as a venue. It’s just too small, especially with the crowd that Samantha is bound to draw. Richard and I considered holding it at the Lake Eden Inn, but Dick and Sally are completely booked. I’m just so lucky my Richard came through for me. He spoke to Ken Purvis and since summer school doesn’t start for another two weeks, he’s agreed to let us use the Jordan High auditorium, all the grounds, including the football field and the baseball stadium, and the entire parking lot.”

“Do you really think there’ll be that many people?” Hannah asked.

“I know there will be. I’ve already received over five hundred reservations for the opening day luncheon, and more are pouring in every day. And this is before I told anyone about Samantha Summerfield.”

“So how many are you expecting?” Hannah asked.

“At least a thousand. I arranged for party tents to be set up on the football field, and the Lake Eden Nursery on Old Lake Road has agreed to bring live plants and flowers to decorate the area. It’ll be like a garden party. And after the luncheon is over?”

Stephanie turned to her husband and the mayor continued. “Personnel from the nursery are going to sell the plants and give fifty percent of the profits to Stephanie.”

“Well, not to me personally,” Stephanie gave a tinkling little laugh. “It’s for the Lake Eden Combined Charities.”

“That’s very nice,” Hannah said, still waiting for the second shoe to drop. Stephanie wanted something from them and she hadn’t asked for it yet.

“This is going to be a spectacular party.” Stephanie looked from Hannah to Lisa and then back again. “That’s why I wanted to talk to you today, before you got too busy. I’m going to need over a thousand sugar cookies.”

“When do you need them?” Hannah asked, knowing that Stephanie’s answer would dictate theirs. June was their busy month with bridal showers, weddings, graduation parties, family reunions, and barbecues galore. Everyone wanted cookies, and Hannah and Lisa provided them. It was also a busy month for non-work obligations. Both Hannah and Lisa were invited to a series of parties and barbecues to celebrate the beginning of summer.

“The luncheon is on Wednesday afternoon. We’re having raspberry sorbet for dessert and we were planning to serve it with a chocolate leaf garnish. Isn’t that clever?”

“Chocolate and raspberry go well together,” Hannah said, wondering what was so clever about the combination that had been around for years.

“I’m talking about the leaf design. The theme of my charity event is Turn Over a New Leaf. I want everyone who attends to turn over a new leaf and pledge twice the amount they pledged last year.”

“Oh. Of course,” Hannah said, although she hadn’t known about the theme. She wasn’t about to admit that she’d received information about Stephanie’s charity event and it was still sitting on her desk at home, waiting to be opened.

“I contracted with the little chocolate shop I frequent when I’m in Minneapolis. They assured me that they could make the leaves, but the owner called this morning to say they couldn’t fill the order. It was something about not being able to get supplies. And that’s why I’m here. I need twelve hundred sugar cookies by noon on Wednesday for the luncheon. You can decorate them with a leaf made out of chocolate frosting, can’t you? I know it’s late in the day, but just an outline of a leaf would be all right.”

Hannah began to frown. The cookies themselves were no problem, but Lisa would have to decorate each cookie and that would take time. It was time they didn’t have, not with all their other orders. And Stephanie probably expected them to donate the cookies for free!

She must have sensed Hannah’s reluctance because Stephanie held up her hand. “I know you probably won’t charge me since it’s for such a worthy cause, but I insist on paying you for the ingredients. That way you won’t have any out of pocket expenses.”

But you won’t pay us for our time, and that’s the most expensive variable in the equation. Any time we spend on your order is less time we can spend on the customers who actually pay! Hannah didn’t voice her thoughts. It wasn’t politic to alienate the female half of Lake Eden’s first couple. But before she could tell Stephanie that they couldn’t possibly take on a project that large with such short notice, Lisa spoke up.

“We can’t fill your order, Mrs. Bascomb. There just isn’t enough time to decorate all those cookies. It’s very labor intensive. But we can give you chocolate sugar cookies to go with your raspberry sorbet.”

“I’ve never heard of chocolate sugar cookies,” Mayor Bascomb commented.

Neither have I, Hannah added silently, hoping that Lisa had a recipe for the treat she’d just promised to bake.

“And I have another dessert idea for you,” Lisa continued. “It’s something that fits right in with your theme, Turn Over a New Leaf. Hannah and I could bake apple turnovers for you to sell during the events. Everyone loves apple turnovers.”

“Perfect!” Stephanie breathed. “You’re a genius, Lisa!”

“Thank you. You can set up a booth, man it with volunteers, and heat the turnovers in a toaster oven so they’re warm and smell divine.”

“We could do that,” Stephanie agreed, nodding quickly.

“Hannah and I will provide the turnovers and we’ll follow Lake Eden Nursery’s example. We’ll donate fifty percent of our profits to your charity drive.”

“Wonderful! But how about coffee? Could we have your coffee for sale, too?” Stephanie glanced down at her cup. “This is simply marvelous coffee.”

“Thank you.” Hannah took the hint and reached out to refill Stephanie’s cup. “It’s a new kind of coffee from my high school friend, Pat Vota.”

“Vota …” the mayor repeated, looking thoughtful. “If I’m remembering right, he was a heck of a basketball player. Maybe I should give him a jingle and see if he’ll donate some of this coffee to the cause.”

“That’s a wonderful idea, dear!” Stephanie praised him. And then she turned to Hannah. “Do you think he might send us a case or two?”

“I don’t know,” Hannah said. There was no way she’d make any sort of commitment for a classmate she hadn’t seen since the summer after they’d graduated.

“Well, look who’s here,” a voice called out and Hannah turned to glance at the customer who’d come in the door and was headed straight for their table. There was no way she could mistake his lean, well-muscled body, his glossy brown hair worn slightly longer in front, and his remarkable brown eyes with sprinkles of gold in their depths. It was Bradford Ramsey and he’d clearly impressed Lake Eden’s first couple with his handsome, talented, sensitive and caring professor act. What was he doing here in her cookie shop?

“Bradford!” Stephanie turned to greet him. “You know my husband, of course.”

“Of course. It’s a pleasure to see you again, Mr. Mayor.”

“This is Lisa Beeseman,” Stephanie went on with the introductions. “She’s married to our town marshal. And this is Hannah Swensen.”

Bradford turned his thousand-watt smile in Hannah’s direction. “Hannah and I have met … haven’t we, Hannah?”

Hannah’s mouth went suddenly dry, as parched as a nomad caught in a desert sandstorm without benefit of water. She managed to nod, but all the while her mind was screaming out a warning. He knows! It took him a while, but he remembered me! And now he’s going to tell everyone here about us!

“You know Hannah?” Stephanie asked him, completely oblivious to Hannah’s inner distress.

“I certainly do! And I’ll tell you a little secret about her.”

Hannah prayed for a loud clap of thunder to drown out his words. Or a tornado to touch down and whirl her away to another land, like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz. Any sort of major disaster would do as long as it would keep him from revealing her painful secret.

Bradford leaned closer and gave her a little wink. “You might not know this, but Hannah makes the best plum pudding I’ve ever tasted. I’m her sister’s faculty advisor and I had the pleasure of joining the whole Swensen family for dessert on Christmas Eve.”

He didn’t remember! Hannah felt weak with relief. He hadn’t remembered on Christmas Eve and he still didn’t remember. She was safe! He had no idea she was the naive graduate student who’d fallen under his spell while they were in college. But he would remember … eventually. That knowledge was like the sword of Damocles suspended over her head.

“Nice to meet you, Lisa,” Bradford continued, “and it’s good to see everyone else again. I just stopped in for a quick hello when I saw you through the window. Now I’ve got to run back out to the college. There’s a department meeting I can’t miss.”

As the front door shut behind Bradford, Hannah felt her composure begin to return. The crisis was averted … for now at least. She took a few deep breaths, pasted a pleasant expression on her face, and began to listen to the conversation again. With a little luck, no one had noticed how distressed she’d been.

“We’ll leave the pricing of the turnovers up to you, Mrs. Bascomb,” Lisa was saying. “All you have to do is tell us what day you want us to deliver.”

“All three days,” the mayor answered quickly. “They’ll be a big hit during intermission at the talent show on Wednesday night.”

“You’re absolutely right, Richard!” Stephanie beamed at her husband.

“There’s a talent show?” Lisa asked, and Hannah hid a grin. It was clear her young partner hadn’t opened her charity information packet, either.

“It’s a show for local talent in the Tri-County Area,” Stephanie explained. “We’re going to poll the audience and give cash prizes to the top three acts of the evening.”

“Thursday night is Casino Night,” Mayor Bascomb explained. “We’ll be playing for prizes that are donated by local merchants, and people will be walking around from table to table.” The mayor turned to his wife. “I think you should sell turnovers during Casino Night too … don’t you, my sweetness?”

“Yes, I do. We can set up a little bistro in a corner of the auditorium. We’ll put out chairs and little tables and people can wander in for coffee and turnovers.”

“How about during donkey baseball on Friday afternoon?” the mayor asked her.

“That’s a natural, Richard. We’ll be right there on the school baseball field and we can use the snack shack to sell them. Actually … we could send the volunteers into the stands to sell coffee and turnovers the way they sell peanuts at major league baseball games.”

Hannah risked a glance at Lisa. Her partner didn’t look at all worried. Hannah hoped that was because Lisa had baked apple turnovers hundreds of times at home. Hannah had made plenty of pies, but she’d never even tried to make a turnover!

“Is there still time for people to enter the talent show?” Lisa asked, and Hannah assumed she was asking for Herb’s benefit.

“I have room for five more contestants, and all you have to do is pay the twenty-five dollar entrance fee,” Stephanie told her. “Will you be singing? Or dancing?”

Lisa gave a little laugh. “Oh, not me! I don’t have any talent like that. I was asking for my husband. Herb’s an amateur magician and he’s really good.”

“That’s right! Someone told me he was fabulous at the Tri-County Fair. We’d love to have him enter. We don’t have any other magicians and everyone loves a magic show.”

“Then I’ll pay his entrance fee right now,” Lisa said, rushing behind the counter to get her purse. “Herb just loves to perform his illusions.”

Hannah watched as the deed was accomplished. Lisa handed over the money, Mrs. Bascomb assured her that every cent of it would go to charity, and then she wrote out a receipt on a napkin.

“You’ll just love the talent show,” Stephanie commented, handing over the napkin. “Perry and Sherri Connors are dancing right after the intermission.”

“Perry and Sherri are in the talent show?” Lisa asked, her voice high and strained.

Hannah read her partner’s expression and she could tell exactly what Lisa was thinking. Why had she just paid twenty-five dollars to enter The Amazing Herb in a talent contest he couldn’t possibly win? Perry and Sherri were world-class dancers. They’d won every competition they’d entered, and just last week the Lake Eden Journal had run an article announcing that the Connors twins would be showcasing their dancing talent in a live television special that would air Christmas Day. The twins would be reprising famous dance routines that Fred As-taire and Ginger Rogers had performed during their long careers.

“Oh, they’re not talent show contestants,” Stephanie explained. “They’re just going to demonstrate one of the routines they learned for the television special. I thought it would be a real treat for the audience.”

“I’ll look forward to it,” Lisa said with a smile and Hannah could see her visibly relax.

“I have another treat, too,” Stephanie said. “I snagged the most wonderful person to be the host.”

“Not Samantha Summerfield!” Lisa looked astounded.

“No. She’ll be commenting from the audience during the first half of the show, but her driver is picking her up during intermission. It’s Bradford Ramsey. He agreed right away when I asked him to host the show. He told me he really loves performing in front of an audience and he’s very eager to help our charities.”

“That’s nice of him,” Lisa commented.

“He seems like a great guy,” Mayor Bascomb gave his opinion.

Hannah said nothing. Instead, she busied herself by adding more cookies to the plate on the table. Bradford was neither a nice man nor a great guy, and she knew that for a fact. He was a skunk, a snake, and a lying, cheating, totally unredeemable jerk. To think that she’d once been in love with him was even worse than embarrassing. The less the mayor, Stephanie, and Lisa knew about her unhappy past with Bradford Ramsey, the better!

Chapter Four

“Tell me you know how to make chocolate sugar cookies and apple turnovers, “Hannah said to Lisa the moment the door had closed behind the mayor and Stephanie.

“I know how to make chocolate sugar cookies. I found a recipe in one of Mom’s boxes and I made them for Herb’s birthday. Everybody really loved them.” “Great. How about apple turnovers?” “I don’t know how to make apple turnovers.” Hannah let out a groan that would have awakened a hibernating bear. “But you promised Stephanie we’d make them.”

“I know. Don’t worry, Hannah. Marge makes the best apple turnovers I’ve ever tasted, and she told me it’s easier than making pies. She baked over a hundred for our family reunion last year.”

Hannah began to feel better immediately. Lisa’s mother-in-law was an excellent cook and baker who never did anything fancy. She’d grown up on wholesome home-cooked meals and if she’d baked that many apple turnovers, it couldn’t be that difficult to do.

“Will Marge teach us how to make them?” Hannah asked.

“I’m sure she will. I’ll give her a call right now and ask. Knowing Marge, she’ll probably offer to help us bake them and talk Aunt Patsy into coming along, too.”

“That would be great. I’d feel a lot more confident if somebody knew what they were doing.”

“Me too.” Lisa gave a little smile. “Now I want you to stop worrying about the recipes and the baking, and think of all the money we’re going to make on a gazillion apple turnovers!”

It was two in the afternoon and everything was coming up roses. Or at least it was coming up daisies, Hannah amended the old adage. There still weren’t enough hours in the day to get everything done to her satisfaction, but Marge and Patsy had offered to help with the turnovers. They’d even suggested a plan. Since Marge’s turnovers froze beautifully, they were going to start baking them tonight, right after The Cookie Jar closed for business. Jack, who’d convinced Marge that he was the fastest apple peeler in Minnesota history, would come with them to operate the old-fashioned apple peeler, corer, and slicer that his grandmother had used in her farm kitchen. Hannah would leave once everyone had arrived and drive to her condo to check on the cats and go out to The Corner Tavern with Mike, who’d stopped in at The Cookie Jar to tell her that no one had broken into Norman’s house. What his neighbor had thought was a burglar was actually only a burned out lightbulb that Mike had replaced.

“I’ve got something for you to taste,” Lisa called out, emerging from the kitchen with a plate of cookies.

“Chocolate Sugar Cookies?” Hannah guessed, gazing down at the sparkling grains of sugar on the dark chocolate cookies.

“Right. I called Dad and he read the recipe to me over the phone. I just thought I’d try them to make sure they were as good as I remembered.”

Hannah bit into one of the still-warm cookies and gave a little sigh of contentment. She was about to take another bite when Jon Walker, the local druggist who’d come in for his early afternoon break, tapped her arm to get her attention.

“How about us?” he asked, making a sweeping gesture that included everyone seated at the counter. “We’ll help you test those cookies.”

Both Hannah and Lisa laughed. Their customers were always ready to critique new cookies. “Here you go,” Lisa said, passing the plate to Jon so that he could distribute them.

Stan Kramer, Hannah’s accountant, was the first to comment. “Good crunch,” he said.

“They’re nice and buttery,” Bertie Straub, owner of Lake Eden’s beauty parlor, the Cut ’n Curl, gave her assessment.

“And the chocolate is just right,” Jon said. “It’s dark, and sweet and …”

“Yummy!” Hannah finished the sentence for him.

Father Coultas, who was sitting at the end of the counter, gave Lisa the high sign. “I’d give it a ten out of ten,” he said. “You’ll bring some to our next bake sale, won’t you, Lisa?”

Just then the bell on the front door tinkled and Andrea stepped in. As usual, she could have stepped off the cover of a fashion magazine. Her makeup was perfect, and her shining blond hair was caught up in a barrette, a hairstyle that exposed the back of her slender neck and was perfect for a warm summer day. She was wearing a mint green dress with a full skirt that was decorated with wide black rickrack around the collar and hem. A black leather belt with a rickrack design nipped in Andrea’s slim waist, and black leather sandals with tiny heels completed the outfit.

“What an adorable outfit!” Bertie said by way of greeting.

“Thanks, Bertie.” Andrea gave her a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, and then she turned to Hannah. “Could I see you in the kitchen for a minute?”

Uh-oh! Hannah’s mind shouted as her sisterly radar went on high alert. Something was definitely wrong. Although Andrea was smiling as she led the way to the kitchen, Hannah could tell by her sister’s stiff posture that she was barely holding herself together.

“What is it?” Hannah asked, the moment the swinging, restaurant-style door had closed behind them.

“It’s Bill!” Andrea took a deep breath and tried to control herself, but she seemed unable to keep up the façade and she dissolved in tears.

Hannah imagined the worst. “He’s all right, isn’t he? I mean … he didn’t have an accident or anything, did he?”

Andrea shook her head, but she was crying so hard, she couldn’t speak.

“You’re shaking your head no.” Hannah could have kicked herself for asking two opposing questions. “Does that mean no, Bill’s not all right? Or no, Bill didn’t have an accident?”

Andrea took another deep breath and swallowed noisily. “Bill didn’t have an accident. And he’s all right … but I’m not!”

“What’s wrong with you?” Hannah asked, her anxiety growing. It was obvious that Andrea was very upset.

“I’m afraid Bill will make the wrong decision. Or maybe it’ll be the right decision for him, but it’ll turn out to be the wrong decision for me.” Andrea sniffled and wiped her eyes with a tissue that was so wet and ragged, it was almost unrecognizable.

“Here,” Hannah said, grabbing a stack of napkins from the supply cart against the wall and handing them to her sister.

“If he says yes, there aren’t enough tissues in the whole world!” Andrea wailed, grabbing several napkins from the top of the stack and wiping her eyes.

This was a crisis of the highest magnitude. Hannah knew that because Andrea had just smeared both eyeliner and mascara. “Hold on,” she said. “We need coffee.”

It only took a moment for Hannah to fill two cups from the kitchen coffee pot and carry them to the workstation. Then she made another trip to the baker’s rack beside the oven, scooped up a half-dozen of Lisa’s Chocolate Sugar Cookies, and transferred them to a plate.

“Eat,” she ordered, setting the plate in front of her sister.

“I’m not h–hungry.”

Hannah could tell that more tears were imminent by the quaver in her sister’s voice. “You don’t have to be hungry. Just eat a cookie. It’s medicinal.”

The I’m-your-big-sister-and-I-know-best tone in Hannah’s voice must have been convincing, because Andrea picked up a cookie and ate it. When the first cookie had disappeared, Hannah pushed the plate closer, and Andrea took another.

“Coffee,” Hannah instructed, pointing to the mug she’d set in front of her sister. “Take a sip of coffee to wash down that second cookie, and then tell me all about it.”

Andrea didn’t argue. She just did as Hannah directed. And then she let out a quavering sigh. “It’s Bill,” she said, repeating what she’d said earlier.

“You told me that. What about Bill?”

“He’s been …” Andrea stopped and cleared her throat. “He’s been offered a new job!”

“As Managing Sheriff of the Tri-County Area?” Hannah hazarded a guess.

“No! That’d be wonderful. If they offered him that job, I’d want him to accept right away. But they didn’t. And this job isn’t wonderful. This job is just … just awful!”

“If it’s that awful, he shouldn’t take it,” Hannah said reasonably.

“I know that. But I’m not sure Bill knows that. You see, it’s almost double the money, and he’d have his own practically unlimited expense account. And the benefits are even better than the ones he has now.”

Hannah began to frown. “I must be missing something here. What you just described sounds like everybody’s dream job. What’s so awful about it?”

“It’s not the job that’s so awful. It’s just that it’s for Tachyon.”

“What’s Tachyon?” Hannah asked, managing, somehow, to curb her impatience. Getting information from Andrea could be a long, painful process.

“It’s a big security corporation. Bill got a call from them this afternoon and they offered him a job heading up their quality control division.”

Hannah felt a bit like someone trying to put a jigsaw puzzle together without the picture on the cover of the box. Andrea was feeding her pieces of information, but she was far from seeing the whole picture. “Why is Tach-yon interested in Bill?” she asked, hoping for another piece to help her complete the puzzle.

“They liked the work he did for them last year. Tach-yon makes security devices, and they test them by sending out samples to law enforcement agencies all across the country. The feedback they get tells them how to make the products better.”

Hannah remembered the security cameras that Mike had been testing. “Did Tachyon make the security cameras that Mike was testing for the department?”

“Yes. They make all sorts of things for home and office security. Bill brought home one of their touchpad locks, but that didn’t work out for us.”

“Why not?”

“Peanut butter gums up the whole thing and there’s no good way to clean it out. Bill put that in his notes. Not recommended for families with small children. He was in charge of compiling all the reports from the Minnesota law enforcement agencies and transmitting them to Tachyon. They were so impressed with his suggestions they called him up to offer him the job.”

“He didn’t accept, did he?”

“No, but he hasn’t turned them down yet, either.” Andrea’s eyes began to glisten and she blinked back fresh tears. “I know it’s a great opportunity, but I don’t want to move!”

She’d finally struck pay dirt with her questions! Hannah came close to shouting Eureka! but she managed to restrain herself. Instead, she posed a question. “Why would you have to move if Bill takes the job with Tachyon?”

“Because they want him to work at headquarters, and Tachyon headquarters is in Fort Lauderdale, Florida. I don’t want to move away when my whole family is here in Lake Eden!”

“Of course you don’t.” Hannah reached out to pat her sister’s hand.

“And … and besides, they’ve got crocodiles in Florida!”

“Alligators, not crocodiles,” Hannah corrected her.

“Whatever. They’re slimy green things with big teeth, and sometimes they even knock on the door. I saw that on the news. A woman went to answer the door and when she opened it, there was a big crocodile!”

“Alligator. I saw that, too.”

“Then you can understand how I feel. What if Tracey answered the door. Or Bethie. She can turn the knob now, and Grandma McCann can’t kept an eye on her every minute of the day. If we moved to Florida, Bethie could end up being some crocodile’s dinner!”

“Take it easy, Andrea.” Hannah didn’t bother making the alligator correction a third time. It didn’t really matter what Andrea called the carnivorous swamp dweller. It was still scary, and Hannah could understand why Andrea was upset.

“You understand, don’t you?” Andrea paused to take a deep breath. “I don’t want to move. I just know I’d hate it there. But at the same time this could be a big career move for Bill, and I don’t want to stand in his way.”

“I understand perfectly,” Hannah said, wondering what she’d do if she were faced with a similar dilemma. Andrea was caught between husband and family, torn between her duty and her desire. Hannah hadn’t thought it could ever happen, but it made her own dilemma of trying to choose between the two men she loved seem practically trivial in comparison.

CHOCOLATE SUGAR COOKIES

Preheat oven to 325 degrees F., rack in the middle position.

2 cups melted butter (4 sticks, one pound)

4 one-ounce squares semi-sweet chocolate (I used Baker’s) 2 cups powdered sugar (not sifted)

1 cup white sugar

2 eggs

2 teaspoons vanilla

1 teaspoon orange zest (optional)

1 teaspoon baking soda

1 teaspoon cream of tartar (critical!)

1 teaspoon salt

4¼cups flour (not sifted)

½ cup white sugar in a small bowl (for later)

Melt the butter and chocolate squares in a saucepan over low heat, stirring constantly, or in the microwave.(I melted mine in a quart measuring cup in the microwave on HIGH for 3 minutes.) Once the butter and chocolate are melted, stir them smooth, transfer them to a large mixing bowl, and add the powdered and white sugars. Stir thoroughly and set the mixture aside to cool.

When the mixture is cool enough so it won’t cook the eggs, add the eggs, one at a time, stirring after each addition. (You can use an electric mixer at this point if you like.) Then mix in the vanilla, orange zest, (if you decided to use it) baking soda, cream of tartar, and salt. Mix it all together.

Add flour in half-cup increments, mixing after each addition. You don’t have to be precise—just divide your flour into roughly 4 parts. (One very important reason for adding flour in increments is so that the whole mountain of flour won’t sit there on top of your bowl and spill out all over the place when you try to stir it in.)

Once the dough has been thoroughly mixed, roll one-inch dough balls with your fingers. (You can also use a 2-teaspoon scooper to form the dough balls). Dip the balls in the bowl of white sugar and roll them around until they’re coated.

Place the dough balls on a greased cookie sheet, (I usually spray mine with Pam or another nonstick cooking spray,) 12 dough balls to a standard-size sheet. Flatten the dough balls a bit with your impeccably clean palm so that they won’t roll off the cookie sheet on the way to the oven.

Bake the Chocolate Sugar Cookies at 325 degrees for 10 to 15 minutes. (Mine took 12 minutes.) Cool them on the cookie sheet for 2 minutes and then remove the cookies to a wire rack to finish cooling.

Yield: Approximately 7 to 8 dozen fudgy, melt-in-your-mouth, sugar cookies.

Chapter Five

“Remind me not to order that again,” Mike said, pulling into into the alley that ran past the back of The Cookie Jar.

“You didn’t like your peanut butter pepper burger?”

“It was … interesting.”

Hannah laughed. “That word covers a multitude of put-downs.”

“That’s true.” Mike pulled into the parking lot at the back of The Cookie Jar, parked next to Hannah’s cookie truck, and grabbed the bag of burgers they’d brought for what Hannah thought of as the Beeseman-Herman clan. “Beautiful night,” he said, looking up at the night sky.

“Yes.” Hannah looked up at the myriad of stars shining brilliantly overhead. After a day that had topped the eighties, the temperature had dropped to the low seventies and the air felt cool, a rarity in Minnesota where the difference between the high and low in the summer was seldom more than a few degrees.

There was a low sound as Hannah passed Herb’s cruiser. It was midway between a whimper and a bark, and she moved a few steps closer. The windows were down, and she could see Herb and Lisa’s puppy on a rug in the back bench seat. “Hi, Dillon,” she said. “What are you doing out here all alone?”

Dillon stared at her with sad puppy-dog eyes, and Hannah would have reached in to pet him, but she knew that Herb was training him and she didn’t want to break any rules. “I’ll come back with a treat,” she promised, “if Daddy says it’s all right.”

“Poor little guy’s probably lonely out here,” Mike said. “Why don’t you ask Herb if he can come in?”

“I would if you weren’t here. It’s against health board regulations.”

“I’m not the health board.”

“Then it’s okay?”

“It’s okay by me. Besides, Herb’s training him to be a police dog. Police dogs can go anywhere they’re needed.”

“And Dillon is needed inside?”

“I’d say so. Somebody might break in and try to steal those apple turnovers you’re making. If that happens, Herb and I might need a little police dog assistance.”

Hannah gave Mike an approving look. When he’d first come to Lake Eden, he’d been a “by-the-book” cop. He’d moved here from Minneapolis, and big city police departments had to be stricter and their officers were expected to follow regulations to the letter. It had taken quite a while for Mike to learn that things were more relaxed in Lake Eden, and the rules were tempered by common sense.

When Hannah and Mike opened the back door of The Cookie Jar, a delightful scent rolled out to meet them. Hannah identified cinnamon, cardamom, and apples baking in what she was sure was a buttery crust.

“Mmmm,” Mike said with a sigh, taking a big gulping breath of the heady scent. “Nothing smells better than apple pie in the oven.”

“They’re apple turnovers,” Marge corrected him.

“I know, Mrs. Beeseman. Hannah told me. But it smells like my mom’s kitchen during apple-picking season. She used to make at least a dozen pies a day.”

“Did she sell them?”

“No, they were for the freezer. Apple pie was my dad’s favorite and he always wanted it for Sunday dinner.”

“Your Mom must have used cinnamon, nutmeg, and cardamom,” Lisa told him. “That’s what Marge uses.”

Mike shrugged. “I guess she must have because it sure reminds me of home. My mouth’s watering and my stomach’s growling, and I just had a full meal.”

“My stomach’s growling and my mouth’s watering, too,” Jack Herman, Lisa’s father, spoke up. He was a tall, silver-haired man in his sixties who’d been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease a little over two years ago. When Lisa had married Herb, Marge had given them her house as a wedding present. She’d moved in with Lisa’s father and had become his primary caretaker so that Lisa would be free to enjoy married life with her son.

Normally, in a small town the size of Lake Eden, people would have voiced loud disapproval of a widow who moved in with a widower without benefit of marriage. In Jack Herman and Marge Beeseman’s case, there wasn’t a breath of censure, or even gossip. Everyone in Lake Eden liked Herb. He was their town marshal in charge of parking enforcement. And everyone thought Lisa was a sweet, selfless young woman for giving up her college scholarship to stay home and take care of her dad. Both Jack Herman and Marge Beeseman were respected members of the community, and if they wanted to share a house, that was fine with Lake Edenites.

“Your stomach’s growling because you haven’t had supper,” Marge said, smiling at Jack. Then she turned to her sister Patsy, who also lived with them. “Don’t start thawing that next batch of puff pastry. We’ll take a break to eat and then we’ll get right back to it.”

Hannah handed the bag of burgers to Marge, and then she turned to Herb. “How about Dillon? Is it okay if he comes inside for a cookie?”

Herb glanced at Mike. “How about the health regulations?” he asked.

“They don’t apply to special needs dogs or police dogs,” Mike told him.

“Great! Will you open the door, Hannah? I’ll call him.”

“Sure, but he’s inside your cruiser.”

“That’s okay. The windows are down. Just open the door and watch what happens.”

Hannah opened the back door. “What now?” she asked Herb.

“Now I call him.” Herb pulled a silver whistle from his pocket and put it to his lips. Hannah listened but the whistle didn’t make a sound.

“Is it broken?” Patsy asked.

“No, it’s a dog whistle. It’s such a high frequency humans can’t hear it.” Herb raised the whistle again. “Step aside, Hannah. He’ll come barreling in any second.”

Herb blew the whistle again and Hannah heard a thump outside as Dillon hit the ground running. A second later he raced in the door, skidded to a stop in front of Herb, and sat down on his haunches.

“Good boy!” Herb praised him. And then he patted Dillon on the head and scratched him behind the ears.

“Impressive,” Mike said. “There’s only one thing I’m wondering about.”

“What’s that?”

“Will Dillon come to anybody who blows a dog whistle?”

“No, not unless they know the code.”

“This little dog knows codes?” Jack asked, looking astounded.

“Just one, and I guess it can’t hurt to tell you. It’s three blasts on the dog whistle, a pause, and then two more blasts. That’s the only thing he responds to. Any other combination of whistles and he just sits there waiting.”

“Smart.” Mike said.

“Very smart,” Jack agreed, eyeing the bag of hamburgers on the counter. “Is there a hamburger for … what was his name again, son?”

“Dillon,” Herb told him.

“Right. And it’s for Marshal Dillon. I keep thinking it’s Field Marshal Montgomery, but he’s British and my granddog’s not British. Dillon’s foreign, but he’s from Labrador.”

Herb and Lisa laughed, and Jack looked pleased. “But he’s only half Labrador. The other half’s … what is it again?”

“Jack Russell Terrier,” Lisa told him, “and heaven only knows what else is in there.”

“It doesn’t matter. He’s a handsome guy.” Hannah went to the kitchen cabinet and took out a box of dog treats. “Can he have one of these, Herb?”

“Yes, but he won’t take it.”

“Why? Jon Walker’s dog, Skippy, just loves them.”

“Oh, Dillon would love one, but he won’t take it unless I say it’s all right. Go ahead and try to give it to him.”

Hannah walked over to Dillon with the dog treat and held it out. “Here you go, Dillon. Have a treat.”

Anyone watching could tell that Dillon wanted the treat. He gave a soft little whimper, but he turned his head away.

“Try again,” Herb said.

“Here, Dillon.” Hannah waved the treat under his rose. “It’s really good and it’s yours.”

Dillon turned his head away for the second time, and Herb gave a proud smile. Then he said to Hannah, “Okay, try it again. This time I’ll tell him it’s okay.”

Hannah held out the treat. “Do you want this?”

“It’s okay, Dillon,” Herb said, and Dillon gently took the treat from Hannah’s hand.

“That’s really impressive,” Hannah said. “Do you train cats?”

Everyone laughed, including Herb, who finally stopped chuckling enough to speak. “If you’re talking about Moishe, the answer is no. Moishe’s a very smart cat. If I tried to train Moishe, he’d end up training me!”

“What’s the count?” Hannah asked at a few minutes past ten.

“Two hundred forty,” Lisa answered, picking up the last tray to come out of the oven and carrying it to the baker’s rack. “Do you think I should freeze these while they’re still warm?”

“Wait until morning,” Marge told her. “They’ll get ice crystals if you freeze them while they’re warm. Cover them with a sheet of wax paper until morning, and then wrap and freeze them.”

Hannah stood up and stretched her back. “You’re the boss, Marge,” she said, wiping down the work surface. She stopped as she came to the apple peeler that Marge and Jack had brought with them. “Do you want to take this home with you?”

“No sense in that,” Patsy said, also standing and stretching. “We’re just going to use it tomorrow night. Can you stick it in that industrial dishwasher of yours and save it for us when we come down here tomorrow night?”

“Sure, but are you sure you want to do this again tomorrow?”

Patsy laughed. “We’d better. Mrs. Mayor said she needed turnovers for the talent show, Casino Night, and Donkey Baseball. I figure that’s got to add up to seven hundred, maybe even a thousand.”

“You’re right,” Mike offered his opinion. “Anybody who eats one at intermission tomorrow night is going to want another one on Casino Night and another at Donkey Baseball. People are going to be talking about how good these turnovers are. That’s word of mouth and it’s going to send sales through the roof.”

“So you like my apple turnovers?” Marge asked him.

“They’re even better than my …” Mike stopped and looked as guilty as a small boy with his hand caught in the cookie jar. “Don’t tell anybody I said this, okay? Mom’s apple pie is great. I love Mom’s apple pie. But your apple turnovers are even better!”

MARGE’S APPLE TURNOVERS

Hannah’s 1st Note: Marge uses commercial puff pastry dough for her turnover crusts. She says life’s too short to spend all day making puff pastry. She buys it frozen in sheets and thaws it as she needs it. One batch makes 8 turnovers, and Marge uses one 17.5-ounce package. Florence down at the Red Owl carries Pepperidge Farm frozen puff pastry dough and it contains 2 sheets.

If you’d rather, you can use pie crust dough. Just remember to roll it out a little thicker than you would for a regular pie since it won’t be in a pie pan.

The Crust

One 17.5-ounce package frozen puff pastry dough

1 egg

1 Tablespoon water

White (granulated) sugar to sprinkle on top

Apple Filling:
4 and ½ cups cored, peeled, sliced, and chopped apples (I used 2 large Granny Smith apples and 2 large Fuji or Gala apples)

½ cup sweetened dried cranberries (I used Craisins)

1 Tablespoon lemon juice

⅓ cup white (granulated) sugar

¼ cup flour

⅓ teaspoon ground nutmeg (freshly ground is best, of course)

“ ” teaspoon cinnamon (if it’s been sitting in yourcupboard for years, buy fresh!)

¼ teaspoon cardamom

¼ teaspoon salt

Thaw your puff pastry dough according to package directions, on a floured board.

While your pastry is thawing, core and peel the apples. Slice them as you would for a pie and then cut the slices into 3 pieces. Place the apples in a large mixing bowl and mix in the sweetened dried cranberries. Sprinkle the fruit with 1 Tablespoon of lemon juice to keep the apples from browning. Toss the mixture around with your fingers to make sure all the apples are moistened.

Mix the sugar, flour, spices, and salt together in a small bowl.

Dump the bowl with the dry ingredients on top of the apples and toss them to coat the apples. (You can use your fingers – it’s easier)

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees F., rack in the middle position.

When your puff pastry has thawed, roll half of it out to a twelve-inch square on a floured board. Use a sharp knife to make one horizontal line through the middle of the square and one vertical line through the middle of the square. This will divide it into 4 equal (or nearly equal) pieces.

Break the egg into a cup. Add 1 Tablespoon of water and whisk it up. This will be your egg wash.

Line a cookie sheet with a piece of parchment paper.

Transfer one square of puff pastry dough to the cookie sheet.

Use a pastry brush to brush the inside edges of the square with the egg wash. This will make the edges stick together when you fold the dough over the apples.

With a slotted spoon, pick up approximately ½ cup of the filling (¼ cup for the smaller turnovers) and place it in the center of the square.

Pull one corner of the square over the filling to the opposite corner of the square, forming a triangle. Press the edges together.

Use the tines of a fork to seal the edges together.

Coat the top of the turnover with egg wash, using a pastry brush.

Cut two slits in the top of the turnover with a sharp knife. The slits should be about an inch long. (This is a very important step. Not only does it let out the steam when the turnovers bake, releasing a delicious aroma that’ll have the neighbors knocking at your door, it also gives everyone a peek at the delicious filling when it’s time to serve dessert.)

Follow the same procedure to fill and seal the remaining three turnovers.

Roll out the second sheet of puff pastry and cut it into squares. Transfer the squares to the baking sheet, and fill and seal the remaining turnovers.

When all the turnovers have been filled, sealed, and brushed with egg wash, sprinkle the tops with white sugar.

Bake your turnovers at 400 degrees F. for 25 minutes, or until they’re golden brown on top.

Remove the cookie sheet to a wire rack and let the turnovers cool for 5 minutes. Then pull the parchment paper and the turnovers off the cookie sheet and onto a waiting wire rack.

These turnovers are delicious eaten while slightly warm. They’re also good cold.

If any turnovers are left over (fat chance at my house!) wrap them loosely in wax paper and keep them in a cool place. The next day you can reheat them in the oven.

Chapter Six

The dimly-lit garage smelled of wet concrete blocks, soaked by yesterday’s midafternoon rain shower, lingering exhaust fumes from recently departed vehicles, and a potpourri of coffee grounds and old orange peels from the dumpster that sat against the far wall. It wasn’t the stuff that perfumes are made of, but to Hannah it smelled like home.

Mike took her arm and walked her to the set of steps leading up to ground level. This took them past the dump-ster and Hannah noticed that he wrinkled his nose. “Tomorrow’s garbage day?” he asked.

“That’s right. Every Tuesday morning.”

“I thought so. Something’s getting a little ripe in there.” Mike walked her to the covered staircase that led up to her second-floor condo.

“Coffee?” Hannah asked when they arrived at her door, even though every tired muscle in her body was screaming for the comfort of a soft mattress and as many hours sleep as she could get. The last thing she wanted tonight was company, but it was only polite to offer.

“No coffee for me, thanks. It’s almost eleven and you need your sleep. I just want to make sure everything’s okay inside and you’re locked in safe for the night.”

Hannah felt a warm glow start at her toes and move up her body to the top of her head. That was nice of Mike. Ever since she’d almost been killed six months ago, he’d been acting as her protector. And she could swear that he was making a real effort to curb his self-centered tendencies and put her concerns first. In her uncharitable moments, she thought it was probably because he was between girlfriends. And in her generous moments, she was sure that he really did love her to the exclusion of all others. Since she was a level-headed woman who saw the glass as neither half empty nor half full, but rather a glass with something in it and room to pour in more, she figured Mike’s true motivation was somewhere between the two extremes.

Mike took the keys she handed him and unlocked the door. They both prepared to catch Moishe as he hurtled through the air into waiting arms, but no orange and white cat leaped through the doorway.

“He’s probably snuggled up on the couch with Cuddles,” Hannah said.

Mike stepped in and turned back to her. “You’re right. Neither one of them is moving an inch. They’re too comfortable.”

“They certainly are!” Hannah followed Mike inside, and they stopped to pet the cats and scratch them under their chins. When both Moishe and Cuddles were purring blissfully, Mike moved on and Hannah stayed a few steps behind him.

“It was great the way you helped Jack with the apple peeler,” Hannah said, once Mike had checked the guest bathroom.

“That used to be my job when Mom made pies.” Mike opened the door to the guest room and bent to check under the bed. He made a move to open the closet, but Hannah grabbed his arm.

“Don’t!” she said.

“Why not?”

“Because something will fall out. It’s overflowing with stuff I should have packed off to the thrift store years ago.”

“But someone might be …”

“Hiding in there?” Hannah gave a little laugh as she interrupted him. “Impossible. There isn’t room for one more thing.”

“Okay. If you say so.” Mike moved on to her bedroom. The first thing he did was head for her closet. “Is it okay to check in here?” he asked.

“Yes. Everything I cleaned out of here is in the guest room closet.” Hannah was silent as Mike opened her closet and checked for intruders. When he’d slid the doors closed again, she followed him to her bathroom and waited while he checked that. “You made Jack feel good, asking him about the little animals he carves.”

“It was interesting. He knows a lot about wildlife.”

“Well, thank you for being so nice to him. Everybody there appreciated it.”

As they walked back down the hallway, Mike slipped his arm around her and gave her a little hug. “You don’t have to thank me for being nice to Jack. I like Jack. It’s true he’s losing it a little, but he’s still got more on the ball than a lot of people.”

“That’s true.”

“I like everyone who was at The Cookie Jar tonight. Lisa’s like the girl next door. She’s sweet, and nice, and … and wholesome. And Herb’s a true-blue Minnesota guy. He’d give you the shirt off his back if you needed it. And then there’s Marge. She’s got a big heart and she wants to help everybody. And I think Patsy’s the same way. It makes me feel good to be around people like that.”

Hannah smiled. “So you changed your mind about living in Lake Eden?”

“What do you mean?”

“When you first moved here, you thought it was too small, that it would be like living in a fishbowl.”

Mike shrugged. “Well, it is like living in a fishbowl. But I really don’t mind. I like almost everybody here in Lake Eden.”

“Everybody?” Hannah couldn’t resist teasing him a little.

Mike shrugged. “I said almost everybody. I even like Bertie Straub … in small doses.”

Hannah laughed. Bertie wasn’t shy about giving people advice, and she didn’t have a tactful bone in her body. She’d decided that her niece was the right woman for Mike even though Mike wasn’t interested. And every time she saw Mike, she tried to force the issue.

Mike opened the hall closet, glancing inside, and shut it again. Then he checked out the kitchen and the laundry room. “Everything looks good,” he told her.

“Great. Thanks for coming in to check.” Hannah led him to the door, but she didn’t open it. Instead, she stepped closer and gave him a little hug. It was intended as a thank-you hug, the kind of hug you’d give your brother-in-law if he’d just fixed your garbage disposal. But Mike must not have recognized the imaginary blue band around the generic hug, because he pulled her up tight against him and tipped her face up to kiss her.

Uh-oh, he’s got the wrong idea, Hannah thought as their kiss deepened. And a few seconds later, she thought, Uh-oh, he’s got the RIGHT idea! And she knew she’d better break things up quickly.

“Sorry,” Mike said, stepping away before she could even consider how to achieve the same result.

“That’s okay,” Hannah said, hoping the little quaver in her voice didn’t give away how captivated she’d been.

“I’d better go now, while I still can.” Mike walked to the door and turned. “You know I love you, don’t you?”

Hannah nodded. She knew Mike loved her … in his own way. She loved him too, but Mike’s love wasn’t exactly monogamous. Of course her love wasn’t exactly monogamous either since she also loved Norman. It was … complicated. Very complicated.

“I’ve got no right loving you. Not when I’m such a jerk.” Mike stopped speaking and sighed deeply. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, Hannah. You’re the best thing that’s happened to me since my wife died, and I keep goofing it up right and left. It’s like I don’t want to succeed in love again. And as long as I’m fickle, I don’t have to try.”

Hannah didn’t know what to say. Mike was being brutally honest. Everything he’d said was true. “I … I think I understand,” she said.

“You’re too good for me, Hannah. If you hook up with me, I’m just going to break your heart. You should marry Norman. He loves you. I’m sure about that. Norman’s a really nice guy and he’ll treat you right.”

Again, Hannah was at a loss for words. She just stared at Mike, wondering what he’d say next. And then she realized what he’d already said. “You want me to marry Norman?”

“No! It’s not what I want, that’s for sure. But I think you should marry Norman. I know you want to get married. I’ve seen you with Tracey and Bethie, and I can tell you want kids of your own. Norman would make a great father.”

“True,” Hannah said, giving a tight little nod. “But I don’t want to get married to anyone! Not now. Maybe not ever. And you can’t palm me off on Norman like I’m some kind of bad poker hand!”

“I wasn’t …”

“Yes, you were!” Hannah interrupted him. “You were being all selfless and sweet, and trying to pull the wool over my eyes.”

“What wool? What are you talking about?”

“You don’t want to marry me anymore, and this is a good way of breaking up with me. It makes you look like the good guy. Why don’t you just come out and say that you don’t want to marry me anymore?”

“But I do! I just don’t think I’d do right by you, that’s all.” Mike put his hand on the doorknob, but he didn’t open it. Instead he turned back for a final word. “I’d be the happiest man in the world if you’d marry me, Hannah. I can’t think of anything that would be better for me. But it wouldn’t be better for you. You’d be miserable if you married me. Every time I turned around to look at a pretty woman, you’d wonder if I was going to make a move on her when you weren’t around. Think about it, Hannah. I’ve already let you down a couple of times in the past, and you’d have to be the biggest fool on earth to take a chance on me.”

And with that said, Mike pulled her into his arms and kissed her until her mind was spinning with joyful abandon.

There was no way of telling how long the kiss lasted. And there was no way of doubting that Mike desired her. It was a lover’s kiss, a way of communicating the closeness they both felt. Hannah reveled in the feeling for breathless moments and then … suddenly … Mike was gone, and she realized that she was standing there alone, with her fingertips touching her lips, swaying slightly, savoring the memory.

“Oh,” Hannah gave a soft little cry. Mike was willing to sacrifice his own happiness to keep her from making what he thought would be a dreadful mistake. She felt like running after him, throwing her arms around him, and …

The feel of warm fur brushing against her ankles brought her out of her imaginings and back in touch with reality. Was Mike putting her on? Was this a little game he was playing? Did he want her to feel so sorry for him, she’d race after him, tell him it didn’t matter, and melt into his arms?

Hannah pondered the questions for a moment, and then she sighed deeply. There was no way she could know for sure. Thank goodness Norman was coming back soon! Of course she’d never ask Norman for advice on her relationship with Mike, but just knowing that Norman was there, steady and loving, gave an anchor to her confused emotions.

And that was when she saw that the red light on her remote phone was blinking rhythmically. She’d missed a call working late at The Cookie Jar and she hadn’t noticed it when she’d come in with Mike.

Hannah took time to reach down and pet the two cats, and then she headed for the end table by the couch to play back her message on the remote phone system she’d bought when her old-fashioned answer machine had finally given up the ghost.

“Hi, Hannah. It’s Norman.” At the first sound of Norman’s voice, Cuddles jumped up on her lap and tried to lick the phone. “It’s your daddy,” Hannah said, holding the phone a little closer so that Cuddles could hear.

“It’s almost seven and I guess you’re out somewhere for dinner. I’m just getting ready to leave the hotel and meet my friends for dinner.”

Hannah frowned slightly. Norman’s voice sounded strained, but perhaps that was the connection.

“If it’s not too much trouble, can you keep Cuddles for another night? I’m going to stay over one more day. I have a couple of things I have to do and it’s going to take me longer than I expected. I’ll be back on Thursday and I’ll pick up Cuddles on Thursday after work.” There was a pause and Norman cleared his throat. “Oh, yes. I already talked to Doc Bennett and he’s coming in to work for me, so you don’t have to worry about that.”

Hannah’s frown deepened. Perhaps it was just her imagination, but Norman didn’t sound very happy. And he should have been happy meeting up with all his friends from dental school again.

“I guess that’s it.” Norman cleared his throat again. “Have a nice evening. ’Bye.”

No I love you? No I miss you? No I’m thinking about you and I wish you were with me? Hannah replaced the phone in the charging station with a frown. She wasn’t sure what had happened to Norman in Minneapolis, but something was definitely wrong.

Of course she couldn’t go to bed, not with one boyfriend confusing the dickens out of her by wanting to marry her but claiming he was saving her from herself by pushing her into another man’s arms, and the other boyfriend suffering with an unknown problem in Minneapolis, a problem that made him sound like a stranger instead of a man who could hardly wait to get back to her. In a situation like this, there was only one thing to do and she knew exactly what it was. She had to bake.

Hannah hurried to the kitchen and opened the pantry to survey the ingredients she had on hand. She’d received a recipe last month from a friend she’d known in college. History major Katie Strehler had always attended class with a to-go cup of coffee in her hand. She’d been an even bigger coffee drinker than Hannah, and if Katie said her Mocha Nut Butterballs satisfied that coffee urge, Hannah certainly wasn’t about to doubt her. She’d already stocked up on the ingredients she needed to make Katie’s cookies. They were on the top shelf, along with the recipe. Hannah read it through again to make sure she had everything, and then she carried it all out to the kitchen counter.

It didn’t take long to mix up the dough, and within five minutes Hannah had the first pan in the oven. Since it was silly to try a new recipe without at least tasting it, she put on a fresh pot of coffee and sat down at the kitchen table to wait for the cookies to come out of the oven. She’d just slipped the second pan into the oven and was preparing to roll the cooled cookies in powdered sugar when the door opened and Michelle came in.

“It’s almost midnight!” Michelle said, spotting Hannah at the kitchen counter. “Can’t you sleep?”

“I can’t sleep quite yet. I have to wait for another couple of pans of cookies to come out of the oven.”

Michelle sniffed the air appreciatively. “They smell great. What are they?”

“Mocha Nut Butterballs. Do you want to try one?”

“Sure.” Michelle tossed her purse on the table and went to the coffee pot to pour herself a cup. “I’ll help you bake the rest. I’m too mad to go to sleep.”

“Why are you mad?”

“It’s Lonnie. He’s being a real pain about wanting to get engaged right away. I think he’s afraid I’m going out with someone else.”

“Are you?” Hannah asked the important question.

“I was, but I’m not right now. It’s just that I want to keep my options open. I don’t want to be tied down at this point in my life.”

“Mmm,” Hannah commented, keeping it neutral as she filled a plate with cookies. “Have a cookie and tell me what you think.”

Michelle took a cookie and bit into it. She gave a little moan of delight and popped the remainder into her mouth. “I’ve got three words to describe them.”

“And they are …?”

“Mocha. Butter. Yum!”

“That’s good enough for me,” Hannah said, taking a cookie for herself. “So what are you going to do about Lonnie?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you love him?”

Michelle took another cookie. “Yes, I love him. But he’s demanding too much of me. Maybe next year, or the year after. But not right now. I’m still trying out my wings.”

“I know,” Hannah said, hoping those wings weren’t flapping anywhere near Bradford Ramsey. One broken Swensen heart was enough.

“Men!” Michelle muttered around her third cookie. “You can’t live with them, and you can’t live without them.”

“That’s true, but it’s okay.”

“It is?” Michelle turned to stare at her.

“Sure it is … as long as the Mocha Nut Butterballs hold out.”

MOCHA NUT BUTTERBALLS

Preheat oven to 325 degrees F., rack in the middle position.

1 cup softened butter (2 sticks, ½ pound)

½ cup white (granulated) sugar

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

1 Tablespoon instant coffee powder (I used espresso powder)***

¼ cup cocoa powder (I used Hershey’s)

¼ teaspoon salt

1 and ¾ cups all-purpose flour (no need to sift)

1 and ½ cups finely chopped pecans ****
—————

powdered sugar (that’s confectioner’s sugar) to coat the baked cookies

*** If the only instant coffee you can get comes in granules or beads, crush them up into a powder with the back of a spoon before you add them to the cookie dough.

**** - Mother likes these with chopped walnuts. Andrea prefers pecans. I think they’re best with hazelnuts. Tracey adores these when I substituteflaked coconut for the nuts and form the dough balls around a small piece of milk chocolate.

Soften the butter. Mix in the white sugar, vanilla indent1, instant coffee powder, cocoa, and salt.

Add the flour in half-cup increments, mixing after each addition. (You don’t have to be exact. It won’t come out even anyway! Just make sure the flour is added in three parts.)

Stir in the nuts. Do your best to make sure that they’re evenly distributed.

Form the dough into one-inch balls (just pat them into shape with your fingers) and place them on an ungreased baking sheet, 12 to a standard sheet. Press them down very slightly (they’re supposed to look like balls, but you don’t want them to roll off on their way to the oven.)

Bake the cookie balls at 325 degrees F. for 12 to 15 minutes, until they are set. (Mine took 14 minutes.)

Move the cookies from the cookie sheet to a wire rack. Let them cool on the rack completely.

When the cookies are completely cool, dip them in powdered sugar to coat them. (If you roll them in powdered sugar while they’re still warm, they have a tendency to break apart.) Let them rest for several minutes on the wire rack and then store them in a cookie jar or a covered container.

Yield: Makes 3 to 4 dozen simply amazing cookies.

Hannah’s 1st Note:After Michelle ate almost half a batch, she had a suggestion. She’s going to try making them and rolling them in sweetened powdered chocolate instead of powdered sugar. She thinks Ghirardelli makes a sweetened powdered chocolate that will work.

Hannah’s 2nd Note: I think these cookies would be incredibly tasty dipped in melted chocolate. Too bad there aren’t any left so that I can try it.

Chapter Seven

Hannah put on her sleep shirt, rested her head on the pillow, shut her eyes, and the alarm went off. At least that was the sequence as she perceived it. A little subtraction, not as simple as one might think this early in the morning, proved her wrong. She’d actually gotten a grand total of four and a half hours sleep. It wasn’t enough. Her eyes still felt scratchy, and all of her muscles ached, not entirely because Moishe and Cuddles had tried to commandeer the entire mattress.

She forced her feet to cross the room and step into the tiled bathroom. Then she willed her hand to turn on the water in the shower. Seconds later, she was sputtering under the forceful spray, alive and awake enough to realize that she’d forgotten to turn on the knob for the hot water and she was still wearing her sleep shirt.

Hannah turned off the water, peeled herself out of the wet garment, and adjusted the temperature of the spray. After she’d taken her shower, she hung up her soggy sleep shirt on the showerhead to dry. Five minutes later, dressed in jeans and a blouse, she padded into the kitchen in her slippers only to realize that the coffee she’d set to go off automatically last night was half gone.

“Good morning, Hannah. Sit down. I’ll get your coffee.”

Hannah turned toward the voice. She blinked. Once, twice, and then she gave a half-hearted wave. Michelle was sitting at the kitchen table holding a mug of coffee, and she looked as fresh as a croissant that had just come out of the oven. Her eyes were clear, her hair was glossy, and she was dressed in a pair of white slacks and a crisp yellow blouse.

As she watched, Michelle jumped up and headed for the coffee pot. Hannah sat down on a chair and pondered an important question. It was obvious that Michelle had been up for a while. She’d curled her hair and put on makeup. How could anyone look so beautiful after so little sleep? Michele was lovely in the morning, and that made Hannah feel old and ugly in comparison.

“I made breakfast,” Michelle said, carrying Hannah’s coffee to the table and setting it down. “It’s just scrambled eggs and cheese. Would you like some?”

Hannah nodded. She was incapable of speech. Michelle had gotten up so early she’d had time to make breakfast. Not only was she beautiful at this ridiculously early hour of the morning, she was also organized and energetic.

“Is something the matter?” Michelle asked.

“Why?”

“Because you’re staring at me.”

“I’m just envious.”

“Of me?” Michelle looked shocked.

“Yes. It’s only a few minutes past four-thirty in the morning and you went to bed the same time I did. I’m still dragging around, barely awake, and you’re dressed with your hair done. Not only that, you’ve already cooked breakfast, and you look stunning. If you weren’t my baby sister and I didn’t love you so much, I’d probably hate you.”

The day was busy, as all days at The Cookie Jar were, and Hannah was relieved when they locked the front door at five in the evening. No sooner had they thrown the lock when there was a knock at the back door, and Marge, Jack, Patsy, Herb, and Dillon came in. While they set up at the workstation in the kitchen, Hannah arranged the BLTs she’d made on a platter and carried them to the coffee shop. Then she called everyone in to eat, including Dillon who stretched out on the floor between Herb and Lisa and munched on the extra bacon that Hannah had made for him.

Once they’d finished eating, they went back to the kitchen to make turnovers. They’d worked steadily for what seemed like at least an hour when the phone rang. Lisa hurried to answer it and after listening to the caller for a moment, she motioned to Hannah. “It’s for you,” Lisa told her, holding out the receiver.

“Coming.” Hannah dried her hands on a towel and glanced at the clock. The apple turnover assembly line had been working longer than she’d thought, because it was almost seven in the evening.

“I’ll be right back,” Hannah told Jack and Herb, who were operating the apple peeler to core, peel, and slice the apples, and she’d cut the apple slices into smaller pieces. Patsy was next in line, and she was mixing the apples with flour, sugar, and spices. When Patsy was through, she handed the bowl to her twin sister, Marge, who had rolled out puff pastry dough and cut it into squares. Marge spooned on the filling, folded the dough, sealed the edges with a fork, and then passed the cookie sheet to Lisa, who was responsible for brushing the tops with egg wash, cutting slits to let out the steam, and then ferrying the cookie sheets to the oven.

“Who is it?” Hannah asked Lisa, wondering who could be calling her at The Cookie Jar this late.

“I think it’s Andrea,” Lisa told her, covering the mouthpiece with her hand. “It’s hard to tell, because whoever it is sounds really upset.”

Uh-oh! Hannah’s mind shouted a warning. Bill took the job in Florida! But thinking that way was borrowing trouble, something she tried very hard not to do, and she forced herself to think positively as she took the phone.

“Hello?” she said.

“Hannah! I … I tried you at home and you didn’t answer, and I’m so glad I caught you at The Cookie Jar!”

Lisa was right. It was Andrea and she sounded on the verge of panic. “We’re staying late baking apple turnovers,” Hannah explained. “Is there something wrong?”

“Yes! Tachyon offered Bill more incentives and I think he’s beginning to waver, Tracey needs a homemade snack for her bus trip to Alexandria tomorrow, and Grandma McCann is at a baby shower for a friend’s daughter so I can’t ask her for help. I’m stressed, Hannah. I’m really stressed!”

“I know you’re stressed. I can hear it in your voice. Try to calm down, Andrea. I’m sure we can work everything out.”

“Can you come over? Bill’s working late, and Bethie’s got a runny nose, and I can’t find the listings I wrote up for the Journal yesterday, and … and I just can’t cope anymore!”

That was unusual. Andrea could usually cope with anything … with the exception of cooking, of course. Andrea was the worst cook in all of Minnesota’s eighty-seven counties.

“Will you come over, Hannah? Please?”

There was a desperate note in Andrea’s voice that Hannah had never heard before. “Just hold on. I’ll be there just as soon as we get our apple turnover count for the night,” she promised.

“Go now,” Lisa said, and everyone else nodded in agreement. “We can finish up here without you.”

“But that’s not really fair. I could …”

“Go,” Marge said, and it was a command. “There’s nothing more important than family. We’ve got the turnovers under control.”

“I’ll be there in a few minutes,” Hannah said to her sister. “Tell me what kind of snack Tracey needs and I’ll bring some ingredients with me.”

“Anything she can eat on the bus without making too much of a mess. And she has to bring enough for two. The kids are going to team up in pairs, eat one snack on the way there and eat the other on the way back home.”

Hannah thought fast. Sally made a snack at the Lake Eden Inn she called Imperial Cereal. She sent it along in the box lunches she packed when her guests went for walks around the lake. “How about some of Sally’s Imperial Cereal?” she asked.

“That would be perfect. But do you have time to run all the way out to the Lake Eden Inn?”

“I don’t have to run all the way out there. Sally gave me the recipe and I’ve got it in my book. Hold on a second.” Hannah hurried to the book of recipes in sheet protectors that she kept in a three-ring notebook. She located Sally’s snack and ran through the list of ingredients. “What kind of cereal do you have in the house?”

“I’ve got Multigrain Cheerios. They’re Bill’s favorites. And I picked up a box of Rice Chex for Bethie. She likes the way they crunch.”

“Those will do just fine. How about frozen orange juice?”

“I’ve got some. I just made up a whole quart and it’s in the refrigerator.”

“I need some that’s still frozen. You have extra, don’t you?”

“There’s another two cans in the freezer. Is that enough?”

“More than enough. All I need is a quarter cup. How about brown sugar?”

“Yes, but it’s got big lumps. You’ll have to pick them out before you can use it.”

Hannah was surprised that Andrea knew about the lumps in her brown sugar. As far as she knew, Andrea didn’t sprinkle it on anything and she certainly wouldn’t have tried to use it in baking. “Did Grandma McCann tell you it had lumps?” she asked, latching on to the most likely scenario.

“No, Bill did. He complained about it yesterday morning when he tried to sprinkle it on his instant oatmeal. He asked me to buy fresh at the store, but I haven’t done my shopping yet.”

“Why don’t you just keep molasses on hand? Then you could mix up your own brown sugar with white sugar and molasses.”

“But then I’d have to mix it up every time Bill wanted it. It’s easier to just keep brown sugar in the house.”

“Whatever,” Hannah said, restraining the urge to laugh. “How about your butter?”

“Butter doesn’t get lumps!”

“I know that. I was just asking if you had some.”

“We’ve got tons of butter. Grandma McCann won’t let us buy anything else. She says butter is better for us than those artificial substitutes that don’t taste like butter anyway.”

“She’s probably right. How about slivered almonds?”

“No, I don’t have any of those.”

“Then I’ll bring them. Your oven works, doesn’t it?”

“It did last night. Grandma McCann made a hamburger hotdish for dinner.”

“Good. When you hang up, put on the coffee pot. I’ll see you in about fifteen minutes.”

“Hannah?”

The receiver was only inches from the cradle when Hannah heard her sister’s far-away voice calling her. She stopped her forward motion and brought the receiver back up to her ear. “I’m here.”

“I forgot to thank you. It’s really nice of you to drop everything and come over here, just because I need you. You’re the best big sister in the whole world.”

“My program’s over,” Tracey announced, racing into the kitchen. “Hi, Aunt Hannah. I didn’t know you were here!”

“Your mom said you were watching something for summer school, and I didn’t want to interrupt you.”

“It was a KCOW-TV special, and Mrs. Chambers wanted us to see it tonight. It was all about the Kensington Runestone, and we’re going on the bus to see it tomorrow.”

“What did you learn from the special?” Andrea asked, and Hannah could have applauded. Asking Tracey to talk about what she’d just seen would help to fix the details in her mind.

“They said the Kensington Runestone used to be out in the open, but it was moved to the Runestone Museum in nineteen fifty-eight.”

“And you’re going to the Runestone Museum?” Hannah asked.

“Oh, yes. Part of the program was about the museum and they’ve got lots of things to see. There’s a Minnesota wildlife exhibit, and a place where you can learn about early pioneer life, and a hands-on children’s exhibit. At least that’s what they said. I don’t think so, though.”

“You don’t think so about what?” Andrea asked her daughter.

“The hands-on children’s exhibit. It never is, you know. The minute you start to touch things, somebody comes over and says to just look not touch, and to stay behind the ropes.”

“So you’re going to spend most of your time at the museum?” Hannah asked.

“Mrs. Chambers said we’ll be there for about an hour. That’ll give us time to see the log cabins, the one-room school, the doctor’s office, and all the Indian stuff. And we’re going to have fifteen minutes to buy something in the museum gift shop.” Tracey stopped speaking and turned to her mother. “Can I tell Aunt Hannah a secret?”

“Sure,” Andrea gave her permission. “I’ll just run up and check on Bethie.”

Tracey waited until her mother was gone and then she stepped closer, almost as if she were afraid her mother was listening outside the kitchen door. “I’m going to buy Mom a Kensington Runestone coffee mug with the money Daddy gave me.”

Hannah reached in her pocket and drew out some bills. She was sure the money Bill had given Tracey was for her to buy something for herself. Instead Tracey was spending it on Andrea, and that kind of generosity deserved to be rewarded.

“Here, Tracey,” she said handing her the bills. “I want you to buy something for yourself.”

A grin spread over Tracey’s face. “Thanks, Aunt Hannah! I’m going to get a Viking helmet.”

“A purple one with white horns?”

“No, Aunt Hannah!” Tracey giggled, and Hannah knew that she was delighted. “I’m going to buy a real Viking helmet, the kind they used in the thirteen hundreds to plunder and pillage. Big Ole wears one.”

“Who’s Big Ole?” Hannah asked, although she knew the answer.

“He’s a twenty-eight foot high statue of a Viking.”

Hannah put on her most innocent expression. “I didn’t know they had statues of football players in Alexandria.”

“No! He’s a real Viking. They named the football team after the real ones, not the other way around.”

“Right,” Hannah said, smiling.

“Anyway … after we leave the Runestone Museum, we get back on the bus and go to Kensington Park. That’s where Olaf Ohman’s farm used to be. And that’s where he found the Kensington Runestone in eighteen ninety-eight.” Tracey took a step closer and lowered her voice. “They think it’s a fake, but Mom doesn’t know. And the scientists haven’t made up their minds yet for sure, so I’m not going to tell her until they do.”

“That seems wise.”

There was the sound of footfalls coming down the hallway. A moment later, Andrea walked into the kitchen. “She’s sleeping like an angel,” she reported, and then she turned to Hannah. “I still don’t know how you did it. She was so fussy with that runny nose. But somehow you managed to put her right to sleep.”

“Mom?” Tracey spoke up. “It’s not bedtime for me yet. Can I sit here and watch while you and Aunt Hannah make what I’m taking on the bus for a snack?”

“No,” Hannah said before Andrea could answer, and she laughed as both Andrea and Tracey stared at her in surprise. “You can’t sit here and watch, Tracey. I want you to help us make it.”

“You want me to help?” Tracey looked thrilled at the prospect.

“Absolutely. You can start by spraying that disposable roaster on the counter with Pam.”

Tracey frowned. “All we have is the other stuff. Mrs. Evans was out of Pam when Grandma McCann took us to the Red Owl.”

“That’s okay. Any nonstick cooking spray will do.”

Tracey went to the cupboard next to the stovetop and took down a can of spray. She carried it to the counter and sprayed the inside of the disposable roaster that Hannah had brought with her.

“Is this going to get heavy?” Tracey asked, returning the spray to the cupboard.

“Not too heavy, but it still might be a good idea to support the bottom by setting it on a cookie sheet.” She turned to Andrea. “Do you have an old cookie sheet we can use?”

“I think so,” Andrea said, but she didn’t make a move to find one. Hannah got the feeling that her younger sister wasn’t really sure where any cooking utensils or supplies were kept in her own kitchen.

“I’ll get it,” Tracey said, walking over to the oven and pulling out the drawer under it to reveal a stack of cookie sheets. “Do you want me to preheat the oven while I’m here?”

“Good idea. Set it for three hundred degrees,” Hannah told her. “And once you slip the cookie sheet under the roaster, I want you to go wash your hands. It’s summer cold season, so make sure you soap them for at least twenty seconds.”

“Twenty seconds,” Tracey repeated. “I know how to tell when twenty seconds are up without using a clock.”

“You do?” Andrea sounded surprised at that revelation.

“Grandma McCann taught me. All you have to do is say, one hundred one, one hundred two, one hundred three, all the way up to one hundred twenty. It takes twenty seconds to say it that way.”

“There’s another way to do it, too,” Hannah told her. “Janice Cox told me what she does down at Kiddie Ko-rner. Some of her kids can’t count as far as twenty, so she tells them to sing Happy Birthday all the way through twice.”

“I’ll have to tell Karen about that,” Tracey said, naming her best friend. She washed her hands, mouthing the words to the birthday song, and then turned back to Hannah. “What next, Aunt Hannah?”

“Get out a one-cup measure, and put nine cups of cereal in the roaster. You can use some from each box.”

Hannah and Andrea watched as Tracey carefully measured out the cereal. When she’d transferred nine cups to the roaster, she stepped back and turned to Hannah. “I’m ready for my next assignment.”

“I want you to measure out one cup of slivered almonds. They’re the nuts in that plastic bag on the counter. I think there’s one cup in the bag, but you’d better check to make sure.”

Tracey carefully measured out the almonds. “There’s just a little over one cup, Aunt Hannah. Shall I put them all in the roaster?”

“Put them all in. More nuts will be fine. And then mix everything up with those clean hands of yours.” Hannah waited until Tracey was busy and then she turned to Andrea. “What did they offer him this time?” she asked in a soft voice.

Andrea watched as Tracey dipped her hands in the roaster and began to mix up the cereal and nuts with her fingers. Then she replied, keeping her voice low. “Another ten thousand a year if he accepts by the end of the month. That’s a lot of money on top of everything else they’ve offered.”

“I’m done,” Tracey said, stepping back from the roaster and turning to Hannah. “What should I do next?”

“Go find a quarter-cup measure.” Hannah waited until Tracey had gone to search in the cabinet where Andrea had stored her measuring cups, and then she asked her sister another question. “You said there were other incentives?”

“I’ll say! If he travels, he gets five hundred a day for meals and extras. That’s a flat rate for every day he’s on the road. He doesn’t have to save receipts and invoice them when he gets back to the office.”

“That’s a real perk,” Hannah said and then she stopped talking as Tracey came up with a quarter-cup measure.

“This is right, isn’t it?” she asked.

“Absolutely. Now go find a glass measuring cup that’ll hold a pint. That’s two cups. If you can find one with a spout, that’ll be perfect.”

It was clear that Tracey was used to fetching bowls, measuring cups, and kitchen utensils for Grandma Mc-Cann, because she found the measuring cup that Hannah wanted right away. There wasn’t even time to ask Andrea another question about the incentives that Tachyon had offered.

“I’m ready,” Tracey said, waiting for her next task.

“Take a tube of frozen orange juice concentrate out of the freezer, open it, and measure out a quarter cup. Put the lid back on, seal it in a plastic freezer bag, and put the rest of the frozen orange juice back in the freezer. Then add the quarter cup of orange juice concentrate to the glass measuring cup.”

Once Tracey was engaged in her task, Hannah slid her chair a little closer to Andrea. “Did they offer anything else?”

“They said they’d fly him down there first class to take a look at their headquarters. And they offered to pay for me to come along.”

“What did he say to that?” Hannah asked, but before Andrea could answer, Tracey was back for more instructions.

“We need a quarter cup of brown sugar. Don’t use the sugar you have in the pantry. Take it from the bag I brought. It’s on the counter.”

After Tracey had found the bag and opened it, Hannah gave her further instructions. “Just dip the quarter cup measure in there and fill it up. Then pack it down until it can’t hold any more, and level it off with your finger.”

“Like this?” Tracey did as Hannah had told her. “Do I put it in the cup with the orange juice?”

“Yes. And then get out a stick of salted butter, cut it in half, unwrap the half, and add it to the glass measuring cup.”

Once Tracey was occupied with the next instruction, Andrea answered Hannah’s question. “He said he didn’t think I’d be interested in coming and I really didn’t want him to take the job. And when they asked him why, he explained that our families were here and we didn’t really want to move.”

“Mom?” Tracey called out. “Do you want me to add this leftover butter to the butter dish?”

“Yes, please.” Andrea said, and Hannah noticed that she looked impressed with her daughter’s ability to follow directions.

“But I thought you said you were afraid he was beginning to waver.”

“I did. And I think he is. I found a piece of scrap paper in the wastebasket. He was figuring out how much more take-home pay he’d make every week if he took the job at Tachyon.”

“But that doesn’t mean he’s planning to take it. Maybe he’s just curious.”

“Maybe, but …” Andrea stopped speaking as Tracey approached. “Is everything in the cup, honey?”

“Yes. What do I do with it now?”

“Heat the glass measuring cup in the microwave for one minute,” Hannah answered her. “Take it out with an oven mitt, stir it all up together and if the butter has melted, pour it over the top of the cereal and almonds.”

“How about the cranberries?” Tracey asked, pointing to the bag of sweetened dried cranberries Hannah had brought with her. “Aren’t we going to put those in?”

“Good question, but the cranberries go in after it bakes. Just stir everything up with a big mixing spoon, and then put the roaster in the oven. Close the door and set the timer for fifteen minutes.”

Hannah waited until Tracey was busy, and then she turned back to her sister. “I really don’t think you have to worry. Bill doesn’t want to move to Florida, either. His parents, his relatives, and all of his friends are here in Lake Eden. He’s Minnesota born and bred, and I really don’t think he wants to leave. Tachyon might offer him the sun and the moon, but I’m almost positive he’ll turn them down.”

“I don’t know …” Andrea looked worried. “It’s a really good job, Hannah. And he’d be one of their top executives.”

Tracey carried the roaster to the oven and placed it on the rack. Then she closed the oven door and reached up to set the timer.

“You’re forgetting one thing,” Hannah said, giving her sister a smile.

“What’s that?”

“Bill loves you.”

Tracey turned around and came back to give her mother a big hug. “Aunt Hannah’s right. Daddy knows you don’t want to move to Florida, so he won’t take that job.”

Hannah and Andrea exchanged glances. They hadn’t realized that Tracey was listening.

“Besides,” Tracey continued, “he can’t move to Florida.”

“Why not?” Hannah and Andrea asked almost simultaneously.

“Because he likes the Vikings a whole lot more than he likes the Dolphins.”

IMPERIAL CEREAL

Preheat oven to 300 degrees F., rack in the middle position.

9 cups dry cereal (any combination – I used Multi-grain Cheerios and Rice Chex)

1 cup slivered almonds (I’ve also used pecans and I like them better)

¼ cup orange juice concentrate (I used Minute Maid)

¼ cup brown sugar (pack it down when you measure it)

¼ cup salted butter (½ stick, 2 ounces, ⅛ pound)

½ cup sweetened dried cranberries (I used Craisins)

Hannah’s Note: The nice thing about this recipe is that you can use your choice of any dry cereal, any nuts, any frozen juice concentrate, and any dried fruit.

Place the cereal and slivered almonds in a large ovenproof bowl or a disposable roaster or steam table pan. Make sure to support the bottom with a cookie sheet if you use disposable vessels.

With your impeccably clean hands, mix the cereal and the almonds together until they’re evenly distributed.

In either a 2-cup measuring cup or a microwave-safe bowl, combine the orange juice concentrate, brown sugar, and butter.

Heat the mixture in the microwave for one minute, or until the butter has melted. Stir thoroughly.

Pour the mixture over the cereal and almonds in the roaster. Mix it all together until the cereal is evenly coated.

Bake the mixture, uncovered, at 300 degrees F. for 15 minutes.

Take the roaster out of the oven and mix in the sweetened dried cranberries with a spoon.

Set the roaster on a cold burner or a wire rack until it has cooled to room temperature. Stir it again to make sure it’s not stuck together in big pieces. Store Imperial Cereal in a tightly covered container at room temperature.

Sally sends little packages of Imperial Cereal along with guests when they go for boat rides, hike through the woods, or take walks around the lake. She also confesses that she’s even eaten it for breakfast when she’s in a hurry.

Sally calls this snack Imperial Cereal because it’s fit for a king.

Yield: Approximately 10 cups of sweet, crunchy goodness that will be enjoyed by kids and adults alike.

Chapter Eight

She had just turned over in bed and found a comfortable position midway between two lightly snoring felines when there was a soft knock on her door.

Must be the start of a dream, her tired mind said, reaching out to gather the warm soft blanket of semicon-sciousness around her once again.

“Hannah?” a voice asked, and then there was a palpable change in the air, as if someone had entered her bedroom and was now sharing the prevailing oxygen with her.

The dream wasn’t that interesting and Hannah wished she could change the channel. Unfortunately, dreams seldom responded to remotes. This one would go on, dull, flat, uninteresting, until …

“Hannah!”

The voice was louder, and despite her best intentions, Hannah opened her eyes. And there was Michelle standing close to her bed. “Huh?” she asked, surprised she could frame even that intelligent a question in the middle of the night.

But it wasn’t the middle of the night! Hannah came to that realization with a jolt. The dawn was already breaking outside her window and that meant it was almost five in the morning!

“Wha … time?” Hannah asked, pleased that she’d regained at least some of her ability to verbalize.

“Ten minutes to five. I heard your alarm go off, but then it stopped. And you didn’t get up. Don’t you have to go to work?”

“Work. Yes.” Hannah sat up and blinked several times. “Thanks, Michelle.”

“There’s coffee. Take a quick shower while I pour your coffee and dish up some pancakes for you. I made Sausage and Cheese Pancakes this time.”

Michelle’s pancakes were legendary. She’d run the gamut of additions to her excellent pancake batter, quite literally from fruit to nuts. Lately she’d been experimenting with meats and cheeses, and this morning’s pancakes sounded like winners to Hannah. The thought of a tasty hot breakfast came close to making her actually want to get up and start her day.

Once Michelle had left the room, Hannah wasted no time getting out of bed. She was late to work and she’d have to hurry. One lightning-quick shower, a moment with both toothbrush and hairbrush, a jump into her clothes, and Hannah found herself sitting at the kitchen table clutching a life-giving mug of what one set of her grandparents had called Swedish Plasma.

“Here you go, Hannah.” Michelle set a plate on the table in front of her older sister. “They’ve got breakfast sausage and sharp cheddar cheese.”

“They look wonderful!” Hannah picked up her fork, preparing to dig into the fragrant dish.

“I’m all ready to go. Is there anything I can do for you while you’re eating?”

“I don’t think …” Hannah stopped as she remembered her promise to Lisa. “Yes, there is. I need Rose’s recipe for Zucchini Cookies. Mother got it last Christmas at a cookie exchange.”

“Mother baked cookies for a cookie exchange?!” Michelle looked completely shocked at the idea. As their mother so succinctly put it, she didn’t bake. Since Hannah had left home, the interior of her mother’s oven had seen the only two meals Delores ever made, Hawaiian Pot Roast and EZ Lasagna. Dinner at the Swensen family home consisted of entrée A or entrée B served with a tossed green salad, packaged dinner rolls that could be reheated in the microwave, and ice cream with jarred toppings for dessert.

“No, Mother didn’t bake cookies for a cookie exchange. I baked cookies for Mother so that she could take them to her cookie exchange. The recipe should be in a yellow folder on the second to the bottom shelf in the living room bookcase.”

“Zucchini Cookies. I’ve heard of zucchini bread, but never cookies. I’ll find it for you if I can have a copy.”

“Of course,” Hannah said, except that it didn’t exactly sound that way since she was busy eating. Even so, Michelle must have understood the muffled assent because she gave a thumbs-up and went off to the living room bookcase to find the recipe.

By the time Hannah had finished her second helping, Michelle was back with the recipe. When she noticed that Hannah had refilled her plate, a smile spread over her face. “That must mean you like my pancakes,” she said.

“I love them. I don’t know why I never eat breakfast when I’m here alone. It’s my favorite meal. And it’s always wonderful when you make it for me.”

“Thanks.” Michelle looked proud as she sat down at the table and began to copy the recipe for herself. “What’s on the docket for today? Mother said she could spare me if you need help with the turnovers.”

“Thanks, but we should be okay. We’ve got double what we’ll need for the talent show tonight and we’ll reassess when it’s over.”

“Are you sure? Mother doesn’t think there’ll be much business today since everyone will be at the charity luncheon.”

“She’s going, isn’t she?”

“Yes, but Luanne isn’t. She’s going to stay and work on the books. And Luanne said that since she’s going to be there anyway, there’s no reason for me to stay.”

“Then come over to The Cookie Jar. You can always wait on customers while Lisa and I get a head start on tomorrow’s cookie dough.”

“But aren’t you going to the luncheon?” Michelle asked, looking puzzled. “Mother said she gave you one of her tickets.”

Hannah groaned. She’d forgotten all about the luncheon ticket her mother had given her.

“You forgot?” Michelle guessed.

“Completely. I wonder if Mother would mind if I gave it to Lisa. Samantha Summerfield is the guest speaker and she’s Lisa’s favorite actress.”

“I don’t think Mother would mind. She likes Lisa and she’d probably enjoy having lunch with her. Besides, she knows you hate organized luncheons and you can hardly wait until they’re over.”

“You’re right.” Hannah finished her pancakes and stood up. “Are you ready to go? The only thing I have left to do is give the cats food and fresh water.”

“And all I have to do is get an outfit for the luncheon.”

“You’re going, too?”

“No, but Lisa might need something and I think we’re the same size. I’ll take an outfit of mine along just in case.”

Lisa’s eyes began to sparkle and she gave a delighted laugh. “Your mother wants me to go with her?”

“That’s what she said.”

“But are you sure, Hannah? She bought the ticket for you.”

“I’m sure.” Hannah found herself enjoying Lisa’s excitement about a thousand times more than she would have enjoyed the luncheon. She’d cleared the substitution with Delores, who had seemed very glad that Lisa, and not Hannah, would be attending the luncheon with her. “Mother told me she was looking forward to sitting next to you because if I went, I’d just fidget through the whole thing.”

Lisa just stared at Hannah. “Would you really?”

“Probably. I don’t like formal luncheons and I can’t stand guest speakers. They always go on and on until I’m bored stiff. I really didn’t want to go, Lisa. You’re doing me a big favor by taking my place.”

“Oh, good! I’ve never been to a formal luncheon before. And I’ll actually get to see and hear Samantha Sum-merfield. I’m so lucky I can hardly believe it!” Lisa stopped speaking and gave a little sigh. “What shall I wear? I’ve only got one party dress. It’s the one you bought me two years ago. And it’s way too warm for summer.”

“Michelle’s got that covered,” Hannah told her, pointing to the garment bag hanging on one of the hooks by the back door. “She picked out something just in case you didn’t want to run home and change. Go try it on.”

Several minutes later, Lisa emerged from the miniscule bathroom and she was smiling. “We’re the same size. How does it look? I couldn’t get far enough away from the mirror in the bathroom to see.”

“Gorgeous,” Hannah pronounced as Lisa turned around. The floral print dress with cap sleeves and full skirt was perfect for a garden luncheon.

“I’d better go take it off before it gets chocolate or something just as bad on it.”

“Just as bad?” Hannah teased. “Bite your tongue, Lisa. There’s nothing bad about chocolate!”

Michelle had just come in to help Hannah handle the noon rush when Herb came in the front door. “Where’s Lisa?” he asked.

“At the charity luncheon as Mother’s guest,” Hannah told him.

“Wow. That’s nice of your mother to take her. She’s crazy about Samantha Summerfield.”

“Coffee?” Michelle asked, holding out a cup.

“Thanks.” Herb took the coffee and turned back to Hannah. “I need to talk to you, Hannah. I’ve got a big problem, and you’re the only one who can help me.”

Hannah led the way to the kitchen, hoping that Herb’s problem had to do with what to get Lisa for her birthday, or how to make dog biscuits at home. She could handle both of those. There was bound to be a recipe for dog biscuits on-line, and she knew the brand of perfume that Lisa loved. But from the frown on Herb’s face, she sensed the problem was a bit more serious than that.

“Can Dillon come in?” Herb asked her. “He’s out in the back in the car.”

“Sure, as long as I can whistle for him this time. I want to see if I can do it.”

Herb removed the dog whistle from his pocket and handed it to her. Then he went to open the back door. “Three whistles and a pause. And then two more whistles.”

“Got it.” Hannah put the whistle to her lips and blew on it three times. She waited a moment and then she blew twice more.

There was a thump as Dillon hit the pavement. A few seconds later he was through the open door and racing up to them. He skidded to a stop at Hannah’s feet and looked up at her.

“He knows I blew the whistle?” she asked, incredulous.

“Yes, but that’s because it’s still in your hand. Give him a pat and tell him he’s a good boy.”

“Good boy, Dillon,” Hannah said, patting the top of his head and rubbing his ears. “Hold on a second and I’ll give Daddy a treat to give to you.”

A few moments later, Herb was settled on a stool at the stainless steel workstation and Dillon was stretched out on the floor next to him, chewing his dog treat.

“Now tell me what’s wrong,” Hannah said, setting a plate of the Zucchini Cookies she’d just made in front of Herb.

“I need a favor. A big one.” He delayed their dialogue by taking a bite of his cookie. “These are good,” he said. “What are they?”

“Zucchini Cookies.” Hannah realized that Herb wasn’t eager to go into details about that favor he needed. She was equally uneager to hear those details, but there was no time like the present. “What’s the favor?”

“It’s my cousin Mary Kate,” Herb said. “She’s got the flu and she can’t be more than a couple of seconds away from the …” Herb stopped and cleared his throat. “Trust me. You don’t want to hear the details.”

“You’re right. I don’t. So what does Mary Kate have to do with this favor you need?”

“Mary Kate is Amazing Herb’s assistant.”

Hannah groaned. She couldn’t help it. She’d promised herself she’d never agree to be Herb’s magic show assistant again.

“I know you don’t like helping me out with the act,” Herb said, sighing deeply. “I can’t blame you for that. It’s not much fun getting into the Cabinet of Death. But Lisa can’t do it. She’s just too claustrophobic. And nobody else except Mary Kate knows the act. Could you be my assistant just once more, Hannah? I’m begging you. Otherwise I’ll have to drop out of the talent show tonight.”

Hannah took a deep breath and told herself to hold firm. And then she glanced at Herb. He looked unbelievably plaintive, so she switched her gaze to Dillon. Dear heavens! There were two of them! Two sets of begging puppy-dog eyes! Herb’s entreating orbs reminded her of a basset hound pleading for a pat on the head. And Dillon’s eyes were as sad as a grieving widow’s, so desolate that Hannah could swear she saw tears glistening in their depths.

“Okay,” she said, bowing to the inevitable.

“You mean … you’ll do it?”

“Yes. If I don’t help you out, your dog’s going to cry. And if there’s one thing I can’t stand in this world, it’s a crying puppy dog.”

SAUSAGE AND CHEESE PANCAKES

Preheat oven to the lowest possible setting, rack in the middle position.

1 large egg

1 cup unflavored yogurt

¼ cup cream

2 Tablespoons vegetable oil

2 teaspoons baking powder

½ teaspoon baking soda

¼ teaspoon salt

1 cup all-purpose flour (pack it down in the cup when you measure it)

½ cup ground fried breakfast sausage, broken up into small pieces

1 cup shredded sharp cheddar cheese (approximately 4 ounces)

Beat the egg with a wire whisk in a medium-sized bowl until it’s fluffy.

Whisk in the yogurt, cream, and the vegetable oil.

In a small bowl, combine the baking powder, baking soda, and salt with the flour. Stir it around with a fork until it’s evenly distributed.

Add the dry ingredients to the wet ingredients and stir well.

Michelle’s Note: At this point you can stop and refrigerate your pancake batter overnight. Then all you have to do is give it a good stir in the morning, add your sausage and your cheese, and fry your pancakes. If you decide to do this, don’t preheat your oven until you’re ready to fry in the morning.

Add the fried sausage and shredded cheese to your batter, and stir in thoroughly.

If you’re using an electric griddle, spray it with Pam or another nonstick cooking spray and preheat it to the pancake setting. If you’re using a griddle on the stovetop or a large frying pan, spray it with Pam and heat it over medium-high heat. It’s the perfect temperature when a few drops of water, sprinkled on the surface with your fingers, skitter around and then evaporate.

If you want to pour your pancakes onto the griddle, transfer the batter to a pitcher. If you’d prefer to dip a large spoon or a small cup into the bowl and transfer the batter to the griddle that way, that’s fine, too. (I use a quarter-cup plastic measure that has a little spout on the side – when I pour the batter onto the griddle, approximately 3 Tablespoons come out and 1 Tablespoon sticks to the sides, which is perfect!)

Fry your pancakes until they’re puffed and dry around the edges. If you look closely, little bubbles will form at the edges. If you’re not sure they’re done, lift one edge with a spatula and take a peek. It will be golden brown on the bottom when it’s ready to flip.

Turn your pancakes and wait for the other side to fry. Again, you can test your pancake by lifting it slightly with a spatula and peeking to see if it’s golden brown.

If you don’t have a horde of people sitting at your table waiting to eat those pancakes and you want to keep them warm until everyone comes to the breakfast table, put them in a 9-inch by 13-inch cake pan, separated by paper towels, and slip them into a warm oven set at the lowest temperature until your sleepyheads arrive.

Hannah’s Note: Mike likes these with maple syrup. Norman prefers them plain with a pat of butter on top. Mother likes them with a dollop of sour cream on top and Michelle and I just love to fry an egg sunny-side up with the yolk still runny and slip that on top of a stack of pancakes.

Yield: Approximately one dozen medium-sized pancakes.

Chapter Nine

The phone rang at precisely twelve-thirty, just as Hannah had made the rounds of the tables with the coffee carafe. Michelle answered and a moment later she motioned to Hannah. “It’s Marge Beeseman,” she said as Hannah took the receiver.

“Herb says you don’t have your purple dress anymore,” Marge stated, wasting no time on preliminaries.

“That’s right. After I … um … retired as Herb’s assistant, I didn’t think I’d need it again.”

“Can you get it back?” Marge got straight to the point.

“No.” Hannah didn’t bother to explain that she’d stuck it in a bag and given it to a group of Jordan High students who’d come to her door asking for used clothing and household items for their class rummage sale.

“Well, don’t worry. Patsy will take over for me at the library this afternoon so Jack and I can go look for dresses at Helping Hands. That’s where we got that lovely purple dress, you know.”

“I know,” Hannah said, and left it at that.

“We’ll do things the same as we did the last time. We’ll pick out several dresses in your size and bring them over to you around three this afternoon. You can try them on, choose the one you want, and we’ll take the others back to the thrift shop.”

“That’s fine. Thank you, Marge. I really appreciate it.”

“And I really appreciate how you’re helping Herb. He was just beside himself when Mary Kate’s mother called and said she had the flu.”

Hannah said goodbye and hung up the phone. There was a smile on her face when she turned back to Michelle. “Marge and Jack are going shopping at Helping Hands for me.”

“To pick out a magician’s assistant dress?”

“That’s right. I don’t know what time Lisa will get back so can you stay until I try them on?”

“I can stay for the rest of the day if you need me.”

“Great. I hope they can find something nice this time. That purple dress I wore at the fair was a horror.”

“What happened to it?” Florence Evans asked. She was sitting at the counter waiting for the box of Cinnamon Crisps Michelle was packing for Florence’s checkers at the Red Owl. It was clear that Florence had been listening to what they’d been saying. She wasn’t the type to make a pretence of politely ignoring their conversation.

“That dress is history,” Hannah told her. “I donated it to the Jordan High rummage sale.”

“Was it really that bad?” Michelle asked.

“It was worse. Some redheads can wear purple and other redheads can’t. I’m the kind of redhead that can’t.”

“Hannah’s right,” Bertie Straub said, leaning over to join their conversation. “You should have come down to the Cut ’n Curl before you went onstage with Herb. I’ve got a rinse that’s guaranteed to tone down the color in your hair.”

“That’s good to know,” Hannah said, wondering if it was the same rinse that gave several of Bertie’s regular silver-haired customers blue hair. “Thanks for the offer, Bertie, but I won’t have to worry about wearing that awful purple dress ever again!”

“Samantha Summerfield is a fascinating speaker,” Lisa said, stepping quickly to the walk-in cooler with the bowl of Molasses Cookie dough that she’d just mixed. “She told us all about a day in the life of a Hollywood star. It’s not all glamour, you know. When she’s shooting a movie or a television show, the car picks her up at five in the morning so she can get to the studio and be in makeup at six.”

“That doesn’t sound bad to someone who gets up at four-thirty and drives herself to work,” Hannah said.

“You’re right!” Lisa said, giggling a little. “I completely forgot that we do that every day!”

Hannah turned to smile at her young partner. Lisa had talked nonstop ever since she’d returned to The Cookie Jar. Hannah had heard all about the delicious luncheon, what a wonderful time she’d had talking to Delores, and the tidbits of information she’d learned about her favorite movie star.

“You really should have gone, Hannah. I just know you would have enjoyed yourself.”

“Wrong. But I’m very glad you did. What time is it, Lisa?”

“Five minutes to three.”

“Oh, good. Your dad and Marge should be here soon.”

Lisa turned to Hannah in confusion. “Why are Dad and Marge coming here?”

“They’re picking out a dress for me at Helping Hands.”

“A dress,” Lisa repeated, not looking in the least bit enlightened. “I thought you got all your dresses at Beau Monde because Claire gave you a discount.”

“I do.”

“Then why are Marge and Dad going dress shopping for you at the thrift store?”

“Because it seemed silly to pay good money for a dress I’m going to wear only once.”

“Only once?”

Hannah stared at Lisa for a moment. Her partner looked thoroughly confused. “I thought Herb must have told you. Mary Kate got the flu and I’m filling in for her as his assistant at the talent show tonight.”

“Oh! That’s really nice of you, Hannah. I wonder why Herb didn’t call to tell me. I always carry my cell phone when I’m not here at the shop.”

“Is it charged?” Hannah asked. It was a logical question, especially from someone who couldn’t even count the number of times she’d forgotten to charge her cell phone.

“I know it was charged. I just took it out of the charger this morning.”

“Is it turned on?” Hannah asked a second logical question, especially from someone who frequently forgot to turn on her cell phone.

“Yes, I always leave it on. I never know when I might get a call from Dad and … oh.”

“Oh, what?”

“I just remembered. I turned off my cell phone when we got to the school. There was a sign up asking people not to answer their cell phones during the luncheon or the speech. I completely forgot to turn it back on and check for messages when I got back here.”

There was a knock at the back door and Lisa went to open it. Marge and Jack were standing there, right on time. She gave both of them a hug and took the three plastic-covered bags her father was carrying. “Come in and try some of Hannah’s Zucchini Cookies,” she said. “They’re really good.”

Marge and Jack came in and took seats at the workstation. Lisa dished up some cookies, and Hannah filled two mugs with coffee from the kitchen pot.

“What kind of cookies did you say these were?” Marge asked, taking one from the plate.

“Zucchini Cookies,” Hannah answered. “It’s Rose’s recipe from last year’s Christmas cookie exchange.”

“Vegetable cookies,” Jack said, shaking his head. “What’ll they think of next?”

“I used to make Carrot Cookie Bars for the kids when they were growing up,” Marge said. “It was one way to get them to eat vegetables.”

Jack took a bite of his cookie. “Here’s another way. These are really good!”

Marge took a sip of her coffee and gave a little sigh. “We could only find three dresses in your size, Hannah.”

“That’s right,” Jack said. “We looked through all the racks, but that was it. It must be a very popular size. They’re nice dresses, though. I like the blue one the best, but the others are nice, too. Are you going to try them on … my dear?”

“Yes,” Hannah answered, not reacting to the term of affection. Jack always called women my dear when he forgot their given names. Sometimes he came right out and asked her to tell him her name, which was fine with her, but today he turned to Marge.

“I hope you like the dresses, Hannah,” Marge said quickly.

“So do I, Hannah,” Jack said, latching on to the name that Marge had provided. “Why don’t you try them on while we’re eating our cookies?”

While Lisa took a few minutes to talk to her father and mother-in-law, Hannah retrieved the three bags from the hook by the back door and carried them into the small bathroom off the kitchen. There was barely room enough to turn around, but somehow she managed to remove the plastic covering and take the first dress from its hanger.

The dress was made of white lace with a full skirt, a fitted bodice with a scoop neckline, and long sleeves that ended in points at the wrist. Hannah couldn’t quite decide whether it had been a wedding dress or a prom dress, but it was definitely the type of gown you’d wear to a formal event. She unzipped it, stepped into it, and pulled the dress up to zip it again.

It must have been a wedding dress, Hannah decided after one glance in the small mirror. She spotted three small pearl buttons in strategic spots on the back of the dress that had been sewn there for the purpose of attaching a train. Of course the buttons could be removed, but now that she examined the dress critically, she realized that it was all wrong for her. The scoop neck dipped too low, the sleeves were too tight, the lace ruffle below the waist made her hips look enormous, and the style was so outdated that even a non-fashion follower like her knew it. The overall impression was of a woman trying to make do with a dress she’d worn a decade earlier, and although it did fit in the waist, she really didn’t want to have to worry about the low neckline every time she bent over to retrieve scarves, or flowers, or other paraphernalia from the low, square table that held The Amazing Herb’s magic props.

The white dress went back on the hanger and Hannah slipped the plastic back in place. The dress wouldn’t do at all. She went on to the second dress, took off the plastic, and removed it from the hanger. It was a gorgeous color, a cross between an ice blue and a light turquoise. She slipped it over her head, and it whispered down the length of her body, settling easily on her shoulders.

“Yes!” Hannah said, glancing in the mirror. The material gleamed with a satiny finish and the skirt spanned almost a full circle. The neckline was flattering, dipping down to just the right spot, and the darts in the bodice were perfectly placed. The three-quarter sleeves were less constraining than long sleeves, especially important when she handed The Amazing Herb his props, and the skirt ended just below the knees, ensuring that she wouldn’t trip on it when she got into the Cabinet of Death. Jack was right. This was the perfect dress. All that remained was to zip it up to make sure it fit her properly.

Hannah reached behind her to grasp the tab of the zipper and pull it up. It slid easily to a point an inch or two below her waistline, but there it stopped. What was wrong? It simply wouldn’t go up any farther, even though she tugged a little harder than was wise.

Imitating a contortionist in the tight confines of the bathroom was difficult, but Hannah managed to reach behind her with both hands, grasp the sides of the dress, and attempt to draw it closed. After two attempts, she realized that it was impossible. The dress was at least three inches too small in the waist. But how could that be? The label was still attached to the dress and the number it listed was her size. This was impossible. The dress should fit her perfectly.

It took only a moment to lower the zipper and step out of the dress. Hannah picked it up and turned it inside out to examine the seams. The mystery was solved. The owner of the dress must have lost weight, because the gown had been altered. There were deep darts that extended above and below the waistline, effectively reducing the number on the printed tag by at least two dress sizes.

There was only one dress left. Hannah found herself holding her breath as she returned the blue dress to the hanger and covered it with the plastic. This was her last chance, and her fingers were shaking slightly as she pulled off the plastic to reveal the dress inside.

One glance and the hanger dropped from her nerveless fingers. Fate was cruel. It had played a trick much too heinous to believe. It was the purple dress, the same purple dress she’d worn at the Tri-County Fair and had handed over to the Jordan High students to sell at their rummage sale!

Hannah shut her eyes. Surely she must be dreaming. This simply couldn’t be happening to her. But when she opened her eyes again, the purple dress was still there, pooled in a heap of bilious color at her feet.

There was no benevolence. There was no kindness. There wasn’t even a modicum of mercy. She had to wear the purple dress. There was simply no help for it.

Hannah stood there for a long moment before she picked up the dark lavender horror. And then her mouth opened and she whimpered like a condemned felon awaiting punishment from a cruel magistrate.

“It’s back,” she whimpered, staring down at the dress in total disgust. “I must have done something really awful to deserve this, because … it’s baaack!”

ROSE’S ZUCCHINI COOKIES>

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F., rack in the middle position.

1 cup white (granulated) sugar

1 cup brown sugar (pack it tightly in the cup when

you measure it) 1 cup softened butter (2 sticks, 8 ounces, ½ pound)

1 teaspoon baking soda

2 large eggs (beaten)

1 and ½ teaspoons vanilla

1 and ½ cups peeled and shredded zucchini (that’s about three 8-inch zucchini)

1 cup chopped walnuts (or pecans)

6-ounce bag chocolate chips (that’s 1 cup)

4 cups all-purpose flour (don’t sift—pack it down in the cup when you measure it)

Measure out the white sugar and the brown sugar in a large bowl. Add the softened butter and beat with a wooden spoon until the mixture is nice and fluffy.

Mix in the baking soda and make sure it’s evenly distributed.

Beat the two eggs in a glass with a fork and then add them to your bowl. Add the vanilla extract and mix everything thoroughly.

Peel the zucchini. Shred them with a cheese grater (I use an old, four-sided box grater and shred with the second to the largest grating side.) You can also shred the zucchini with the shredding blade in a food processor. Measure out one and a half cups, packing it down in the measuring cup, and then add it to your bowl.

Hannah’s 1st Note: You don’t really have to peel the zucchini, but if you don’t you’ll have little green dots in your cookies. Since green isn’t the most appetizing color for cookies, I always peel mine.

Stir until the shredded zucchini is thoroughly incorporated.

Add the chopped nuts and the chocolate chips. Mix well.

Add the flour in one-cup increments, stirring after each addition. When all the flour has been added and stirred in, the resulting dough will be quite stiff.

Drop by teaspoonfuls onto a cookie sheet that has been sprayed with Pam (or another nonstick cooking spray) or lined with parchment paper.

This dough is soft. If you find it’s too difficult to work with, chill it for 20 or 30 minutes in the refrigerator and then try again. I used a 2-teaspoon cookie scooper and dipped it in water every three scoops or so.

Bake the cookies at 350 degrees F. for 10 to 12 minutes or until lightly browned.

Cool the cookies on the cookie sheet for two minutes, and then remove them to a wire rack to cool completely. Rose says that after these cookies are cool, you can store them in a covered container and they’ll keep very well that way.

Hannah’s 2nd Note: Tracey loves these cookies. She’s trying to convince Andrea that they count as one daily serving of vegetables. Delores (who’s never been fond of vegetables) agrees. Bill and Andrea don’t agree.

Yield: Approximately 8 dozen tasty cookies.

Chapter Ten

“Ready?”’Herb asked coming in the kitchen door at four o’clock in the afternoon

“I’m ready.” Hannah took her purse off the hook by the door and ducked into the coffee shop to tell Lisa and Michelle that she was leaving for an orientation meeting with the producer of the talent show.

“Sorry about this,” Herb said, backing the cruiser out into the alley and heading for Jordan High. “I know you had work to do, but they said that if we didn’t show up, they’d scratch us from the lineup.”

“That’s okay. From what you told me it shouldn’t take long.”

Hannah leaned back and shut her eyes as Herb drove the short blocks to the school. She was tired and she really needed to catch a nap. Unfortunately the commute wasn’t long enough to do more than rest her eyes.

The front two rows of the auditorium were packed with contestants when they got inside. Hannah recognized the Langer Sisters, the Little Falls majorettes with their lighted batons, and Smokey Winslow clutching his banjo. “This looks like more than twenty acts to me,” she said to Herb as they took seats in the unoccupied third row.

“They’re up to twenty-six,” Herb said, glancing at the program he’d taken from the stack in the lobby. “We’re number twelve, right before Perry and Sherri’s dance demonstration.”

Hannah’s breath caught in her throat as a tall, dark-haired man walked onstage and took up a position behind the podium. It was Bradford Ramsey and the very sight of him made her feel slightly queasy.

“There’s the host of the show,” Herb said, watching as he switched on the microphone. “He’s a professor from Macalester. I’m pretty sure Michelle knows him.”

“Right,” Hannah said, wishing that weren’t the case.

“Hi, Herb,” someone tapped Herb on the shoulder and Hannah looked up to see Perry and Sherri Connors. “Is it okay if we sit next to you?”

“Sure.” Herb turned to Hannah. “Do you know our local celebrities?”

“I certainly do! Sherri is one Regency Ginger Crisp with a glass of skim milk, and Perry is two Walnut Date Chews with a cup of Twining’s Breakfast Tea.”

Perry and Sherri laughed as they slipped into two seats next to Hannah and Herb. “Are you doing your magic act?” Sherri asked Herb.

“Yes, and Hannah’s my assistant. My cousin usually goes on with me, but she’s got a bad case of the flu.”

“That could be what you have,” Perry said, turning to look at his sister.

“But I feel okay now.”

“I know, but it comes and goes.” Perry turned to Herb. “She’s not running a fever, but she can’t keep anything down. Don’t you always run a fever with the flu?”

“I don’t know. Mary Kate’s mother didn’t say if she was running a fever or not.” Herb gave a little shrug and deferred to Hannah. “Do you know, Hannah?”

Hannah shook her head. “It could be a mild case of food poisoning, I guess. I don’t think you run a fever with that.”

“That’s probably it.” Sherri seized Hannah’s explanation eagerly. And then, when everyone turned to look at her, she gave a little laugh. “I don’t want the flu. That can last for weeks. I’d much rather believe it’s something I ate.”

Bradford Ramsey tapped the microphone for attention, and then he began to speak. “I want to thank everyone for taking time out of their busy day and coming here for orientation,” he said. “I promise not to keep you long. I just want to brief you on where things are and what procedure you should follow for the actual performance tonight.”

Hannah listened as the man who used to hold a place of importance in her life told them about the cash prizes and how the winners were to be chosen. Then he said that they were to sit in designated rows in the audience, and he told them when to come backstage to the dressing rooms.

“If you’re in act ten on the program, you won’t leave your seat until act eight starts,” he said. “That will give you the rest of act eight and all of act nine to get into your costume and get ready to go.”

“How do we know when to come out of the dressing room?” one of the Langer sisters asked.

“There are slave speakers in the dressing rooms. They’re hooked to the microphones on the stage and you’ll be able to hear what the audience hears. When the applause at the end of the act begins, I want you to come to the wings at stage left or stage right and wait for me to introduce you.”

“Stage left if our act is an even number?” one of the guys in the second row asked.

“That’s right. Stage left if your act is an even number, and stage right if your act is an odd number on the program. It couldn’t be simpler. Just remember that when you leave your seats in the audience, walk quietly up the side aisles, go straight down the hallway, and enter the backstage area through the green door.”

“Will we get to rehearse it before the show?” one of the Little Falls majorettes asked.

“Yes. When we’re through here, one of my student helpers will walk everyone through it. Just remember that when you pass through that green door, it will take you past the wings. That means you must be very quiet as you go to your respective dressing rooms to put on your costumes and your makeup.”

There was a little sound next to her, and Hannah glanced over at Sherri. The young dancer was gripping the arms of her seat so tightly that her knuckles were white. “Are you okay?” she asked.

“I … I think I have to go to the ladies room. Can you let me out, please?”

Hannah stood up to let Sherri pass, and Herb did the same. She watched as Sherri hurried up the aisle and into the lobby, racing in the direction of the restrooms. Sherri’s face had been pasty white and Hannah had noticed beads of sweat on her forehead. It was clear that Sherri was ill.

“Did she go to the ladies room?” Perry asked Hannah.

“Yes. I think she’s really sick, Perry.”

“So do I. She keeps telling me it’s nothing, that she’ll be fine in a day or two, but I’m getting worried. This has been going on for over a week.”

“Has she seen a doctor?” Herb, who had been listening to their conversation, asked.

“Not yet. I offered to take her a couple days ago, but she said it wasn’t necessary.” Perry just shook his head. “I think it’s because we don’t have insurance.”

“But I thought the Home carried medical insurance for all of you,” Hannah said.

“They do, but we’re not living at the Home anymore. Sherri and I graduated from Jordan High last May and both of us got full scholarships to the community college. We’ve been there for a year now and we’re living in an apartment in that new building on campus.”

Hannah raised her eyebrows. The upscale apartment complex was the community college’s alternative to a dorm. The lovely building was only a year old, and Hannah had heard that it was quite expensive. It sported an indoor spa, a recreation room with all the latest in video games, wireless Internet connections in every apartment, and food service in an adjacent building that was more restaurant than cafeteria.

“I know,” Perry gave a little smile, as if he knew what she was thinking. “It’s really expensive to live there, but our place is the smallest unit and it comes with our scholarship. All we have to do is vacuum the hallways, clean the windows in the lobby and the spa, and replace burned out light bulbs. And the college placement service found us jobs. Sherri works all weekend as a student secretary at the English department, and I’m on the city grounds and maintenance crew. I work a half-day Friday and all day Saturday. Our tuition’s paid and between the two of us, we earn enough for books and personal stuff.”

“Sounds like a good deal to me,” Herb said.

“It is. Not bad for two kids from the Home. And now we’re the chief fundraisers. Right before we do our dance number, I have to get up to make a pitch for donations to the Home.”

Hannah thought Perry sounded a little bitter, but she didn’t comment. It couldn’t have been easy growing up as an orphan in the Winnetka County Children’s Home. Herb, however, wasn’t that restrained.

“Sounds to me like it’s payback time,” Herb said. “The Home helped you out and now that you’re successful, they expect you and Sherri to help them out.”

“You’re right,” Perry replied, and a frown crossed his brow. “Sherri doesn’t seem to mind doing it, but girls had it a lot easier at the Home. There were fights every night in the boys’ wing, and most of the time they just left us alone to slug it out.”

Hannah said nothing. She knew the Home was doing the best it could with overcrowded conditions and not enough staff.

“It wasn’t all one big happy family, the way they try to make you think it was,” Perry continued. “There were rough times, especially for the boys. You have no idea how many times I had to fight just because I took dance lessons.”

“I’m sure you did.” Hannah did her best to smooth things over. “It must have been very difficult growing up without your parents.”

“Not really. We never knew them.”

Perry’s face was hard and Hannah decided the hurt was too deep for platitudes. She glanced at her watch and said, “Do you want me to go check on Sherri? She’s been gone for over five minutes.”

“Would you?” Perry looked grateful. “Thanks, Hannah. I’d really appreciate it.”

Herb stood up and Hannah exited the row. She walked up the aisle to the lobby and took the hallway to the ladies room. As she opened the door she heard the sound of someone being very sick. A moment later there was a flush, and Sherri came out of a stall.

“Are you okay?” Hannah asked her.

“I think so.” Sherri headed for the sink and splashed some water on her face. She dried it with a paper towel, washed her hands and dried them, and then she turned to face Hannah. “Did Perry send you to check on me?”

“It was my idea, but Perry seemed glad that I offered.”

“He worries too much. I’m really a lot better now. I can go back to my seat.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to see a doctor?” Hannah asked, reaching out to feel her forehead and hoping that she wouldn’t take offense. “You don’t feel hot. I don’t think you’re running a fever.”

“I couldn’t be running a fever. I’ve been taking aspirin every four hours for a week now.”

“Maybe you’d better see Doc Knight and find out what’s the matter. If it is the flu, he can give you something stronger than aspirin.”

“I don’t think I need a doctor. I should be okay now. I took some antacid for my stomach.”

Hannah wasn’t a great believer in over-the-counter remedies, but she decided not to say that. Instead she handed Sherri a tissue from the dispenser. “You’d better fix your makeup. Your lipstick’s smeared.”

“Thanks.” Sherri turned to the mirror to wipe off her lipstick and apply new. “I think you’re right, Hannah.”

“About what?”

“Food poisoning. I made some tuna salad and I forgot and left it out on the kitchen counter. I stuck it in the refrigerator the next morning, and I ate it for dinner that night. Maybe it went bad. I heard you’re not supposed to leave things made with mayonnaise out in hot weather.”

Hannah shrugged. “I guess that could be it. How long ago did you eat the tuna?”

“I don’t exactly remember. Maybe a week ago, or a little longer? I just bet that’s it.”

“It could be,” Hannah said, but she doubted it. As far as she knew, a mild case of food poisoning didn’t last a whole week. Or maybe it did. She’d studied literature, not medicine.

“We’d better go.” Sherri turned from the mirror and slung her purse over her shoulder. “Perry gets nervous if I’m gone for too long. I think it’s the twin thing. We were all we had for so long, and he looked out for me in the Home and everything. He forgets I’m grown up now and I can take care of myself.”

There was a knock on the ladies room door and Hannah opened it to find Perry standing there. “Is everything okay?” he asked.

“I’m fine, Perry,” Sherri said, giving him a big smile. “I just had a little stomach trouble, that’s all.”

“Okay. As long as you’re sure you’re all right.” Perry waited for her to exit the ladies room, and then he took her arm.

“Are they ready to show us the wings and the dressing rooms?” Hannah asked, following the pair to the hallway.

“Yes. They’re going to take us in groups of five. The first ten have left, so we’d better hurry.” Perry turned to Sherri. “Ready?”

“You bet! I’m …” Sherri stopped and Hannah watched in horror as her face turned pasty white again. “I have to go back in. I’m so sorry. I’m sick again!”

Once the ladies room door had closed behind Sherri, Hannah turned to her twin. “Take her to the doctor,” she said. “I think this is more serious than mild food poisoning or the flu.”

“Me, too.” Perry said, looking more than a little frightened. “I should have taken her earlier.”

“It’s not your fault. She didn’t want to go. But you should take her now. And tell Doc Knight to put it on my bill.”

“That’s not necessary. You don’t have to pay our bill. I know Doc’ll let us pay him something every month until we can …”

“No,” Hannah interrupted him, thinking fast. It was obvious that Perry wouldn’t accept what he thought was charity. “I need a few things done at The Cookie Jar, and you can do them whenever you have a spare minute.”

“Like what?” Perry looked a bit suspicious, like he wasn’t quite sure if Hannah had real work for him or not.

“You can mix up concrete, can’t you?”

“Sure.”

“I need my back step repaired. It’s got a crack and it’s only going to get worse this coming winter. And then there’s the pantry.”

“What about the pantry?”

“We’re reorganizing it and we’ve got heavy bags of flour and sugar, and great big containers of various supplies. I don’t want to lift them, and Lisa shouldn’t lift them either.”

“How did they get in the pantry in the first place?”

“Most of our supplies are trucked in from a warehouse and the driver carries them into the pantry for us.”

“Okay,” Perry said, and he seemed to accept her explanation. “I can pour a new back step for you and help you move things around in the pantry. When does this have to be done?”

“The step should be finished by the end of September. The pantry can take longer, say by the beginning of November. We need to get everything set in place before our holiday rush.” Perry began to look suspicious again and Hannah figured she’d better not be so generous with her timelines. “Of course I’d like everything done before then, but that’s the longest I could wait.”

I’ve got Wednesday afternoons free,” Perry told her. “How about next Wednesday at one? I can do your back step then.”

“That’s just fine,” Hannah said, even though it wasn’t. There wasn’t a thing wrong with her back step and she’d have to figure out some way to crack it so that Perry could repair it. “I’d better get back to Herb. It’ll be our turn to go backstage pretty soon. Do you want me to tell someone that Sherri’s sick and you took her to the doctor?”

Perry shook his head. “I know this stage like the back of my hand and so does Sherri. I can’t even count the number of times we’ve danced here. If anybody asks, just say we’ll see them tonight.”

“Okay. Tell Sherri I hope she’s better soon.” Hannah gave a little wave and went back into the auditorium. As she walked toward her seat, she realized that now she’d have to take time out of her busy schedule to reorganize their perfectly organized pantry. It was time she really couldn’t spare, especially since it was an unnecessary task.

There was a low whistle and Hannah turned to look. Herb was standing at the rear of a line that had formed in the center aisle. She’d been so deep in thought she hadn’t even seen that the seats they’d occupied earlier were now vacant.

“Did Perry take her to the doctor?” Herb asked when Hannah had joined him in line.

“Yes. She was really sick.”

“With the flu?”

“I don’t know. I felt her forehead. I don’t think she was running a fever, but she said she’d taken aspirin.”

“How did you ever get her to agree to go to the doctor?”

“I didn’t. I told Perry I thought he should take her, and he agreed. I promised to pay for it.”

“Perry’s touchy about taking charity. How did you get him to agree to that?”

“I told him I had a job for him at The Cookie Jar and he should consider it an advance on his salary.”

“Do you have a job for him?”

“I do now.”

Herb reached over to pat her on the back. “That was a really good deed, Hannah.”

“Thanks.” Hannah gave a fleeting thought to all the extra work she’d created for herself in her attempt to manufacture a job for Perry. And as the line moved forward, she muttered, “I should have known that no good deed goes unpunished.”

Chapter Eleven

Hannah had barely had time to run home to feed Moishe and Cuddles before she had to drive back to Jordan High. She’d taken her designated seat at two minutes before the final call for contestants, and Herb, who’d looked a bit panicked at her late arrival, had given her a relieved smile.

Now, forty-five minutes after the curtain had risen, the talent show was running smoothly and everyone seemed to be having a wonderful time. Hannah was clapping right along with the rest of the audience to the beat of Kenny Kowalski’s All-Girl Accordion Band when Herb tapped her on the shoulder.

“We’d better go,” he said. “There’s only one act after this, and then we’re up. We’re going to end the first half.”

“But how about Perry and Sherri? I thought they were ending the first act with their dance number.”

“Not anymore. I ran into Perry in the lobby and he said Sherri can’t dance tonight. He’s going to give his little talk for donations to the Children’s Home right after intermission is over, and then he’s going home to make sure Sherri’s okay.”

“Did he take her to see Doc Knight?”

“Doc gave her something to settle her stomach and said she should rest.”

“Was it the flu?”

“Perry didn’t say. I can tell he’s worried about her, though. He looked really upset.”

Hannah slid out of the row. She’d taken the seat on the aisle so that she wouldn’t have to climb over people’s knees and feet. She thought Herb was jumping the gun a bit. The Langer sisters were up next and they always sang two encores. He was probably nervous and wanted to take a little time to calm down after he’d donned the clothing and persona of his magician, The Amazing Herb.

Once they’d traversed the hallway and gone through the door that led backstage, Hannah let Herb lead the way. There were lots of obstacles and it was easier to follow than to lead. When they reached the rear of the backstage area, Herb turned right to enter the men’s dressing room, and Hannah turned left.

She was only a few steps from the dressing room door when it opened and the Langer sisters emerged. They were talking about something among themselves, and although they smiled and acknowledged her with a wave, they didn’t stop to chat.

Hannah entered the dressing room to find it deserted. That was fine with her. She didn’t want to answer any questions about the ugly purple dress that she was about to don. She slipped out of her jeans and blouse, untied the plastic that covered the monstrosity, and unzipped it. Then she gritted her teeth as she pulled it on over her head, and zipped it back up.

The whole process of dressing in her magician’s assistant costume took less than five minutes, especially since she didn’t stop to put on makeup or primp in the wide horizontal mirror on the wall. It was illuminated by a line of lightbulbs running above the glass, but Hannah took pains to avoid her reflection for fear it would demoralize her. It had been bad enough when The Amazing Herb and his assistant had won first prize in the Tri-County Fair Talent Show. If they won again tonight, and she hoped they would for Herb’s sake, Norman wouldn’t be here to take their picture and use Photoshop to change the color of her bilious dress!

Thinking about Norman brought about a nervous little ping in the bottom of her stomach. She still couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. He hadn’t sounded like himself on the phone, and she hadn’t heard a peep from him since he’d left that short message on her answer machine. It simply wasn’t like Norman to stay away an extra day, especially when he’d told her how much he missed Cuddles.

Hannah turned a chair away from the mirror and sat down to wait until it was time to go. She paged through a magazine that someone had left, but that only occupied her for the first two songs that the Langer sisters sang. The third song was one she knew and she mouthed the lyrics as they sang. Then she took time to brush her hair without benefit of mirror, and listened to the applause as they finished their act.

The applause went on for several minutes. It wasn’t that the Langer sisters were that good, but they did have a lot of relatives in attendance to cheer them on. There was a silence and then, just as she’d predicted, they went into their first encore. It would be a while before they were through and there was no sense going out to wait in the wings early. She might run into Bradford Ramsey and he was the last person she wanted to see!

The sisters were singing the ever-popular Danke Schoen in German, a sure hit in a county that still had a large share of German speakers. Hannah listened for a moment and tried to interpret the words. She’d picked up a little German over the years, but most of the lyrics were beyond her. When the sisters switched to English to sing it all through again, Hannah’s thoughts turned back to Norman.

In the message he’d left for her, he’d said that he wasn’t coming home as planned because he had some things to take care of. Whatever they were, they must be important. Norman was a man who didn’t do many spur-of-the-moment things. He simply wasn’t a spontaneous person. It wasn’t normal for him to leave a message saying he’d changed his plans at the last minute and was staying away an extra day. And why hadn’t he called The Cookie Jar to talk to her personally? Was he avoiding the questions he knew she was bound to ask?

Hannah told herself to stop worrying, that she’d find out soon enough, but of course that didn’t work. She had two choices. She could sit here and worry about Norman, or she could stand in the wings to wait for Herb and take the chance of running into Bradford.

She came to a decision immediately. It was cowardly to sit here simply because she didn’t want to deal with Bradford Ramsey. Thank goodness he didn’t remember he’d dated her years ago! Even when Michelle had invited him to Hannah’s condo for dessert this past Christmas Eve, Bradford had looked puzzled, as if he were still trying to place her. He hadn’t remembered exactly who she was when he’d stopped in at The Cookie Jar to say hello to the Mayor and Stephanie and that was a good thing. With a little luck, he wouldn’t remember her tonight either, and there would be no awkward conversation about the past with him.

The moment she decided, Hannah was up and moving. Their act was scheduled to enter stage left, and their guide had reminded everyone that stage left meant the entrance to the left as you faced the stage from the audience.

Hannah stepped out of the dressing room and crossed the backstage floor, careful to avoid the thick cables that snaked across the floor, the sandbags that held backdrops aloft, and the shadowy shapes of staircases that went up four steps to a landing and then right back down four steps to the floor. If these staircases were positioned correctly on the stage, it would look as if the actor were climbing up a flight of stairs and disappearing from view.

Hannah found a spot in the wings and glanced out at the lighted stage. The Langer Sisters had taken one curtain call and now they were beginning another encore, the crowd-pleasing Beatles hit, I Want To Hold Your Hand. The audience began to clap along with the beat, and Hannah was tapping her foot to the music when she heard a familiar and very unwelcome voice.

“Hello, Hannah.”

She didn’t need to turn around to know who was standing there. It was Bradford Ramsey. She sent up a little prayer that he still hadn’t put two and two together and remembered what they’d been to each other, and then she turned with what she hoped was a polite but neutral expression on her face.

“I’ve missed you, Hannah,” he said, standing much too close to suit Hannah. “I miss those days with you in my class … or maybe I should say I miss those nights. We had some fun back then, didn’t we?”

He remembered her! The sword of Damocles had descended and the hair on the back of Hannah’s neck bristled. “I don’t miss anything about it,” she said, brushing past him to wait for Herb in another spot, a spot as far away from the man she’d once thought she loved as she could get.

Hannah took a deep breath as the curtain went up. It was show time. She smiled as she handed The Amazing Herb doves in cages, colorful scarves, and collapsible flowers in full bloom. She may have seemed attentive to the audience, but only half of her mind was on their act. Bradford had mentioned their nights together. She didn’t think he’d said anything about their former relationship to anyone else, but she expected that he would eventually. When he did, her name would be mud with her friends, her family, and the two men she was dating.

In what seemed like mere seconds to Hannah, they arrived at the finale of their act. Herb explained the feat he was about to perform and there were gasps of shock from the audience. Hannah felt a bit like gasping, too. She had to focus. The Cabinet of Death could be dangerous, possibly even lethal if she lost her concentration.

The audience was silent as Hannah stepped into the cabinet. Bradford had upset her so much, she was still shaking, but that actually worked in their favor, convincing everyone who watched that Hannah was truly afraid for her life. She stood there shaking, but smiling bravely as The Amazing Herb opened his case of wicked-looking knives with blades long enough to go all the way through the cabinet. Of course everyone knew it was an act, a trick of some sort. Their conscious minds knew that Hannah wouldn’t actually be impaled alive, but Herb was an expert at building suspense and Hannah was willing to bet that more than a few audience members would avert their eyes when he closed the cabinet door and started to insert the long, sharp blades.

The moment that Herb shut the coffin-like door, Hannah got into the position clearly marked on the inside of the cabinet, the posture that would keep her safe.

Thunk! The first razor-sharp blade entered the cabinet at an angle, burying itself to the hilt. It missed her by a mile. It was followed by a second blade, and a third. Hannah moved and changed position in a preplanned choreography that was guaranteed to keep her safe and whole … as long as she didn’t make a mistake.

It took some doing, but Hannah managed to focus on making the correct moves until Herb had thrust in the last long knife. She was perfectly silent as he removed the knives, one by one. Then he opened the door to the cabinet, and Hannah stepped out, unscathed, to thunderous applause. The audience had loved them. They were a hit despite the distraction of that snake Bradford Ramsey!

“That was great!” Herb said, patting her on the shoulder. “I’ll meet you out front as soon as you change clothes.”

“Thanks.” Hannah stepped offstage with a smile on her face and ran straight into the arms of the man she’d been trying not to think of for the past fifteen minutes.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” he said, tightening his arms around her. “Where’s that pretty little sister of yours? I haven’t seen her in a while.”

“Good!” Hannah said, and left it at that. She knew Herb was listening, but she was too angry to care.

“Don’t be like that, Hannah. I’ve got a feeling she’s a lot like you … and you were extra special. I really should get to know her better…. don’t you think?”

“Leave Michelle alone!”

“That depends on you, Hannah. If you won’t be nice to me, I’ll just have to go younger.”

Bradford smiled the smile that Hannah had once thought was sexy. Now it made her see red. She pulled back her arm to sock him, to hurt him, but then she remembered Herb and the questions that were bound to come from her partner’s husband. “Just stay away from my sister!” she said, steel in her voice.

“And if I don’t …?”

There was that maddening smile again, and this time Hannah blew up. “If you hurt Michelle, you’ll live to regret it!” she warned him. “Or better yet, you won’t live to regret it!”

Hannah paced the dressing room floor for several minutes before she was calm enough to change into her street clothes. Her friends and relatives were waiting for her to join them, but she was so angry at Bradford, she couldn’t seem to pull herself together. Thank goodness she had the luxury of time! The Amazing Herb had been the last act before a fifteen-minute intermission and everyone was milling around in the lobby of the Jordan High auditorium, drinking Silver Joe’s coffee from the freshly-ground beans that Hannah’s friend Pat had provided, and eating the apple turnovers that the assembly line at The Cookie Jar had made from Marge’s recipe.

If she hurried, she’d be able to join her sisters and De-lores in the lobby. There was only one more thing to do. Hannah made a knot in the bottom of the opaque plastic bag that covered the despised purple dress and carried it to the long pole that served as a temporary closet for costumes.

There were several items of clothing hanging on the pole. Hannah recognized the satin cape that the head majorette from the Little Falls Flyers had worn. Nestled next to it was a long pink scarf left there by a member of Kenny Kowalski’s All-Girl Accordion Band. The last item was a red and white shawl and she hadn’t seen any of tonight’s performers wearing that. Hannah hung the purple dress on the very end of the pole, draped the shawl over it, and hoped that no one would discover it until The Amazing Herb had retired.

She had just gathered up the rest of her things and was ready to leave when she had a dreadful thought. What if Bradford was waiting for her outside the dressing room door? It wasn’t that she was afraid of him. She knew how to defend herself. It was just that she wished to avoid any more confrontations with the man who’d made her last months at college a misery.

Hannah glanced up at the speakers mounted above the dressing room door. Right now the only sound they emitted was muted crowd noise from the lobby, but once intermission was over, she’d hear Bradford Ramsey welcome the audience back and introduce Perry, who would give a little talk about the Winnetka County Children’s Home. All Hannah had to do was wait until she heard Bradford’s voice and then hurry out of the dressing room while he was occupied onstage.

It seemed to take forever, but at last Hannah heard people begin to take their seats. Several more minutes passed, and she heard coughing, low murmuring, and rustling as those same people moved restlessly in their seats, impatient for the second half of the show to begin.

A few minutes more, and Hannah was just as impatient as the audience. Why wasn’t the show beginning? There must be some sort of delay. It was silly for her to hide out in the dressing room, hoping to avoid Bradford.

Hannah picked up her things, pulled open the door, and made her way past the obstacles backstage. She was about to turn toward the door that led to the hallway and the audience beyond, when she glanced onstage and saw Bradford Ramsey sitting in a tall director’s chair.

The stage lights were dimmed for intermission and there was very little illumination onstage. Hannah took a tentative step toward the chair. Yes, it was definitely Bradford. He must have fallen asleep, because he’d dropped a half-eaten apple turnover on the stage floor.

“Wake up! They’re waiting for you to start the show!” she ordered in her loudest whisper, but it had no effect on the sleeping professor. Hannah took a step closer and gave his shoulder a little shake. “Bradford? What’s wrong with you?”

There was no answer and she gave him another shake, much harder than the first. How could he sleep when the audience was waiting? But instead of jumping to his feet as she expected, Bradford tumbled sideways and his head hit the floor with a solid thump.

Uh-oh! Hannah didn’t need the little voice in her head to warn her that all was not well, and she fumbled in her purse for the little flashlight on her keychain. She flicked it on and aimed it directly at his face. Even accounting for the blue LED light that made everyone look ghastly, there was no doubt in Hannah’s mind. She’d wished him ill, but not quite this ill. Bradford Ramsey was stone cold dead.

Chapter Twelve

“You can go home, Hannah.” Mike walked over to the chair where she was sitting and patted her on the shoulder. “I’ll come by later to take your statement.”

“Thanks,” Hannah said, pushing back her chair so that she could stand up. Except that she couldn’t stand up. Her legs didn’t seem to want to hold her upright.

“Take my arm,” Mike said, and he lifted her to her feet. “You don’t look good, Hannah.”

Hannah pretended outrage. “That’s something you should never say to a lady!”

“You’re right. And I’m glad to see your mouth’s all right, even if your legs are still shaky.” Mike gave her a little hug. “All the same, I don’t think you’re in any condition to drive. Is Norman here?”

“No. Something came up and he’s not coming back until tomorrow.”

“Too bad. You could use some help. I’d better have someone take you home.”

“Michelle can drive my truck if you can find her. She said she was coming to the show.”

“She’s here. I spotted her a couple of minutes ago. I’ll have someone send her back here to you.”

“Thanks.”

“I want you to go home and rest. I’m going to be tied up here for at least two hours, probably three. We have to question all the members of the audience.”

“To see if they noticed anyone who went backstage between the time the victim got his turnover and the time I discovered him?”

“That’s right. It shouldn’t take too long. I called in my whole squad to help. I’ll stop by your place when I’m through to take your statement. Let’s say around …” Mike glanced at his watch. “Is eleven-thirty too late?”

“No. I probably couldn’t sleep anyway.”

Mike gave her a sympathetic smile. “It’s not easy finding murder victims. And you seem to do it an awful lot.”

“That’s what Mother always says.”

“Okay, then. I’ll see you …”

“Wait!” Hannah interrupted. “I almost forgot to ask you about the talent show. They’re not going to do the second act, are they?”

“No. The stage is a crime scene. Since there were so many performers in and out of the area, it’ll take the crime scene team the whole night to investigate. After that, the charity event can resume. Mrs. Bascomb is telling everyone to come back for the talent show on Saturday night. They’re going to repeat both acts then.”

“Do you mean …” Hannah cleared her throat. It was difficult to force out the words. “Do you mean that Herb has to do his magic act again?”

“That’s right. Mrs. Bascomb didn’t think it would be fair if the judges had a three-day lapse between the acts. They’re going to do the whole show over again on Saturday.”

Hannah felt her knees buckle and she sat back down. She told herself that it was the shock of finding Bradford dead that had made her a little light-headed, but she knew the real reason for her weak knees, her clammy palms, and her pounding heart. She’d thought it was over, that she could put it all behind her and dwell on more pleasant things. But how could life return to normal when she’d have to wear that awful purple dress again?

Of course they’d stopped to pet the cats who were snoozing on the back of the couch. Hannah buried her face in Moishe’s soft fur and smiled as she heard him start to purr softly. It must be true that stroking a pet’s fur can lower blood pressure and reduce stress. It certainly seemed to be working for her, because she felt much better than she had only moments before.

Michelle, who had been petting Cuddles, glanced over at her. “Do you want me to hang your purple dress in your closet?”

“No, I want you to hang my purple dress in your closet. I don’t even want to look at it until I have to put it on again Saturday night.”

While Michelle took care of the despised dress, Hannah went to the kitchen to put on the coffee. Then she went to the pantry to get out a bag of chocolate chips, a package of miniature marshmallows, and a box of unsweetened chocolate squares. She was standing at the counter, reading through the recipe she’d just taken from a drawer when Michelle came into the kitchen.

“I just can’t believe he’s dead! Why would someone … I mean, what reason did the killer have for …” Michelle stopped speaking as Hannah took a stack of mixing bowls out of the cupboard and reached for a baking pan. “What are you doing?”

“I’m baking.”

“But you just found Bradford’s body! You’ve got to be horribly upset!”

“I am.”

“But you’re going to bake?”

“That’s right. Some people cry when they’re upset. And some people yell and punch holes in the wall with their fists. I bake.”

“I think that’s … that’s good.” Michelle drew a shuddering breath. “Can I bake with you?”

“It’s may I.”

The corners of Michelle’s mouth turned up just a smidgen. “May I?”

“Yes. Set the oven for three-fifty, will you? And go get an apron. I think we should make something with chocolate, don’t you?”

“Chocolate would be good.”

Hannah pointed to the handwritten recipe on the counter. “Jerry Meek, one of the contestants from the first Hartland Flour Bakeoff, gave me this recipe. He told me it was his favorite, and I’ve been meaning to try it. I think I’ve got everything I need on hand.”

“Two kinds of chocolate?” Michelle surveyed the lineup on the counter.

“Yes. And marshmallows. And I know I’ve got cream cheese and chopped pecans.”

“You can’t go wrong with chocolate, and marshmallows, and cream cheese, and nuts,” Michelle said, blinking hard several times. And then, even though she did her best to control her emotions, Hannah saw the tears begin to roll down her face.

“Don’t you dare cry for him,” Hannah admonished her. “He wasn’t worth it.”

Michelle wiped away her tears with the back of her hand and lifted her head to stare at her big sister. “How … how do you know that?”

“I found out the same way you did. We both misjudged him and made a bad mistake.”

“You …” Michelle stopped and took a deep breath. “You knew him?”

“I knew him years ago, and he was a snake back then. He wasn’t the type to change his ways.”

Michelle grabbed an apron and tied it on, and when she looked up again, she seemed a bit more composed. “The other college he told me about … you were there?”

“I was there. He was an assistant professor in the poetry department and I was a very naïve graduate student.” Hannah stopped speaking as the tears threatened her as well. She looked down at the recipe, and even though she tried to concentrate on the list of ingredients, the memories rushed back. “I think it was his eyes,” she said. “He had the most wonderful eyes.”

Michelle swallowed hard. “He did have wonderful eyes. They were so perceptive … or at least I thought they were. I really believed he knew what was in my heart.”

“It was the poetry that convinced me. He read it so beautifully. He told me that I was his inspiration and we’d always be together.”

Michelle just nodded. She didn’t seem capable of speech.

“If I hadn’t found the old hand-bound book when I was waiting for him in his office, I would have gone right on believing that he’d written that lovely poetry himself.”

“He didn’t write that poetry himself? The one about the angels and the faces in the clouds?”

“That poem and all the others were written by someone named Nathaniel Woodman. The book was dated eighteen-ninety.”

A little sob escaped Michelle’s throat. “He said I was his Elizabeth Barrett and he was my Robert Browning. I was so stupid to believe he loved me! And now I don’t know if I should be sad, or … or glad, or … I don’t know how I should feel!”

Hannah crossed the space between them to give her sister a hug. The whole Swensen family was restrained when it came to physical demonstrations of affection, but Hannah deemed a hug appropriate between two sisters who weren’t sure whether to grieve or celebrate.

“He played both of us,” Michelle said, blinking back bitter tears. “He must have felt pretty smug making two sisters fall in love with him.”

Hannah took a deep breath and spoke the words that were so painful to her. “He didn’t know we were sisters. He’d forgotten all about me. He didn’t even recognize me when you brought him to the condo for Christmas Eve dinner. That’s how important I was to him.”

Michelle stared at Hannah in shock, and then she made a little sound of distress. She threw her arms around Hannah and hugged her so tightly that Hannah wondered if she’d have any ribs left intact.

“I’m sorry, Hannah,” Michelle said when the hug had ended. “I’m so sorry. I … I didn’t know.”

“Of course you didn’t.” Hannah reached out to smooth back Michelle’s hair, the way she’d done when her sister was a small child and had awakened with a nightmare.

“I wonder how many other women there were,” Michelle said at last, and there was an undertone of bitterness in her voice.

“A lot,” Hannah answered.

There was a moment, a long moment, when neither of them spoke. And then Michelle asked the question that weighed heavily on both of their minds. “Does anyone have to know?”

“No,” Hannah said in her most definite, not-to-be-doubted tone. “No one has to know except the two of us.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure. Just get some eggs, butter, and cream cheese out of the refrigerator. We’re going to make Jerry’s Chocolate Marshmallow Cookie Bars, and then we’ll mix up some Aggression Cookies.”

“Aggression Cookies?”

“They’re Karen Moon’s recipe, another one from last year’s cookie exchange. Karen told Mother that when she has a bad day, she just mixes up a batch and punches out all her frustration on the dough.”

“Do you think it’ll work?”

“I don’t know, but Mother said the cookies were excellent and it can’t hurt to try it. Maybe it’ll make you forget you ever even knew Bradford Ramsey.”

Michelle smiled, but then she quickly sobered. “What if they question me? If Mike asks, I’ll have to say I had a … a relationship with him!”

“Did anyone ever see you together in a situation that might suggest you were more than student and professor?”

“No. I was very careful about that. He was my faculty advisor at Macalester so nobody suspected anything when they saw us together on campus. Actually …” Michelle stopped and swallowed again and Hannah suspected she was choking back another sob. “Nothing ever happened at Macalester. It was only after he came here that …”

“I don’t need to know the timeline,” Hannah interrupted what was obviously a painful admission. “If Mike asks, just say that he was your faculty advisor.”

“Okay.” This time Michelle couldn’t hold back a little hiccup of a sob. “I wish I could go back in time and do everything over!”

Hannah reached out to give her another hug. “So do I,” she said.

CHOCOLATE MARSHMALLOW COOKIE BARS

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F., rack in the middle position.

Bottom Layer:

½ cup butter (1 stick, 4 ounces, “¼” pound)

1-ounce square unsweetened chocolate (I usedBaker’s)

½ cup white (granulated) sugar 1 cup all-purpose flour (pack it down in the cupwhen you measure it)

1 teaspoon baking powder

1 cup chopped nuts (I used pecans)

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

2 eggs lightly beaten (just whip them up in a glass with a fork)

Cream Cheese Layer:

8-ounce package cream cheese, softened (you’ll use 6ounces for this layer and the remaining 2 ouncesfor the frosting)

¼ cup softened butter (½ stick, 2 ounces, “⅛” pound)

¼ cup white (granulated) sugar

2 Tablespoons all-purpose flour (that’s “⅛” cup)

½ teaspoon vanilla extract

1 beaten egg (just whip it up in a glass with a fork)

½ cup chopped nuts (I used pecans)

1 cup semisweet chocolate chips (I used Ghirardelli)

2 cups miniature marshmallows (I used Kraft’s Jet-Puffed)

Frosting:

¼ cup butter (½ stick, 2 ounces, “⅛” pound) 1-ounce square unsweetened chocolate (I used Baker’s) reserved 2 ounces cream cheese

¼ cup milk

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

1-pound box powdered sugar

Place butter and unsweetened chocolate in saucepan over low heat. Heat just until chocolate melts. (You can do this in the microwave if you prefer.) Stir in sugar.

Combine the flour, baking powder, and nuts. Add them to the chocolate mixture. Stir well.

Stir in the vanilla and the eggs.

Spread the batter into a greased and floured 9-inch by 13-inch cake pan. (You can spray the inside with baking spray, if you’d rather.)

Make the cream cheese filling.

Start with the cream cheese. Cut off 2 ounces and reserve it for the frosting. (That’s one-quarter of the package.)

If your cream cheese isn’t soft enough to stir, heat it in a microwave-safe bowl for 10 to 20 seconds until you can stir it. If your next ingredient, the butter, is still cold, you can throw that in when you heat the cream cheese and do both together.

Combine the softened cream cheese with the butter, sugar, flour, and vanilla. Stir it until it’s smooth.

Add the beaten egg and stir until well combined.

Mix in the chopped nuts.

Spread the cream cheese layer over the chocolate layer. Use a rubber spatula to smooth it out.

Sprinkle the chocolate chips over the top. Do this as evenly as you can.

Bake at 350 degrees F. for 20 to 25 minutes. (Mine took 23 minutes.)

Take the pan out of the oven, sprinkle the top with the miniature marshmallows, and put it back in the oven to bake an additional 2 minutes.

While the marshmallows are baking, start your frosting. Your pan will come out of the oven before you’re through making the frosting, but that’s okay.

Melt the butter in a two-quart saucepan over medium-low heat. (You can also do this in a bowl in the microwave.)

Break (or cut with a knife) the unsweetened chocolate square into two parts and stir them into the butter.

Stir in the softened cream cheese and the milk.

Heat the mixture until it can be stirred smooth.

(Again, you can do this in the microwave in 20-second increments, stopping to stir after each time period.)

Remove the saucepan from the heat (or the bowl from the microwave) and beat in the vanilla.

Beat in approximately a cup of the powdered sugar. When that’s incorporated, beat in another cup. When that’s incorporated, beat in the rest of the box. (Doing it this way keeps the powdered sugar in the bowl and not flying out like snow flurries all over your counter.) Stir the frosting until it’s smooth.

When the frosting is smooth, spread it over the hot Chocolate Marshmallow Cookie Bars, swirling it into the marshmallows. It’ll be soft, but don’t worry. It’ll firm up as the bars cool.

Set the pan on a cold burner or a wire rack to cool. When you can handle it without using potholders, slip the pan into the refrigerator and let it chill for at least an hour. (This makes the bars less crumbly and easier to cut.)

To serve, cut the bars into 32 pieces. (That’s 8 rows and 4 rows crisscrossing them.)

Hannah’s Note: Chocolate Marshmallow Bars are very rich. (Mike’s the only person I’ve ever known to eat four in one sitting.) Make sure you have a full carafe of strong coffee right next to the plate with the bars. You should also have another pot all ready to go in the kitchen.

Yield: One recipe makes 32 incredibly chocolatey marshmallowy bars.

AGGRESSION COOKIES

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F., rack in the middle position.

3 cups flour (pack it down when you measure it)

1 Tablespoon baking soda (that’s 3 teaspoons)

3 cups brown sugar (pack it down when you measure it)

4 eggs, beaten (just whip them up in a glass with a fork)

3 cups salted butter, softened (6 sticks, 24 ounces, 1 and ½ pounds)

6 cups oatmeal (I used Quaker Quick Oats)

½ cup white (granulated) sugar for dipping the dough balls

Put the flour in a medium-sized bowl. Stir in the baking soda and mix until it’s well combined. Wash your spoon and put it away. You won’t be using it again today.

Go to your cupboard and find a large bowl, preferably one that’s unbreakable. Dump the flour and baking soda mixture in the bottom.

Measure the brown sugar and dump that in on top of the flour mixture. Do not stir.

Whip up 4 eggs in a glass with a fork until they’re frothy. Add them to your bowl.

Add all that softened butter. Just dump it in. Don’t stir.

Dump in the oatmeal, too. Don’t stir.

Think about something that really makes you mad. Now mash, knead, squeeze, pound, and pulverize all those ingredients in the bowl. Drum up every bit of aggression you can and take it out on your cookie dough. Don’t stop until everything is mashed, and squeezed, and rounded up into a big ball.

Hannah’s 1st Note: Karen says to use ungreased cookie sheets. I forgot and sprayed mine with Pam. Lisa says she used parchment paper. I think these cookies will turn out fine no matter what you do.

Put the ½cup of white sugar in a small bowl.

Form the cookie dough into small balls about an inch in diameter. Roll the balls in the white sugar and place them on the cookie sheet, 12 to a standard-size sheet. They’ll flatten out as they bake.

Bake your cookies at 350 F. for 10 to 12 minutes or until they’re golden brown on top. Cool on the cookie sheets for 2 minutes and then remove them to a wire rack to cool completely.

Hannah’s 2nd Note: Michelle and I added golden raisins to half of this batch, and chocolate chips to the other half. We thought the cookies were sweet enough without the added sugar on top, so we left that out. The dough balls flattened out by themselves as they baked. If you want to make several different types of oatmeal cookies, you can divide the dough into several parts and knead something different into each part.

Michelle’s Note: Mixing up these cookies is bound to relax you. I copied the recipe to use at Macalester for the times I study all night for a midterm and then find out that not one single thing I studied was on the test.

Yield: 12 dozen tasty cookies, depending on cookie size.

Hannah’s 3rd Note: You can cut this recipe in half, if you wish.You can also make it in an electric mixer if you’re not particularly mad at anyone.

Chapter Thirteen

The Chocolate Marshmallow Cookie Bars were cooling in the refrigerator and Hannah was just removing the last pan of Aggression Cookies from the oven when the doorbell rang. As Michelle went to answer the door, Hannah glanced at the clock on her kitchen wall. Only two hours had passed since they’d walked in the door. Mike was a lot earlier than she’d expected.

But it wasn’t Mike. Hannah was in a position to see both cats sit up and stare at the doorway. Then Moishe’s hair began to bristle, and he arched his back like the illustration of a Halloween cat. He gave a low growl, deep in his throat, and then there was a thump as Moishe, closely followed by Cuddles, jumped to the floor and made a bee-line for her bedroom.

“Hello, Mother!” Hannah called out before Delores even stepped inside the door.

“Hello, dear.” Delores followed Michelle to the kitchen. “How did you know it was me?”

“Just a lucky guess,” Hannah answered, avoiding the cruel truth. It wouldn’t be good for her mother’s ego to know that Moishe disliked her so much, he’d taken his best kitty friend with him and they’d gone to hide under her bed.

“I came to see how you were,” Delores explained, glancing pointedly at the coffee pot. “What smells so divine? Don’t tell me that despite everything you’ve gone through tonight, you girls have been baking!”

“We’ve been baking,” Hannah said.

“That’s right.” Michelle went straight to the coffee pot to pour her mother a cup. “It’s like this, Mother. Some people cry when they’re upset, and some people yell and throw things. Hannah and I bake.”

“Well, that’s certainly a lot more constructive.” De-lores sat down at the kitchen table and waited for Michelle to deliver her coffee. “But you still haven’t answered my first question. What smells so divine?”

“I’m not sure. We made Chocolate Marshmallow Cookie Bars first, and then we made Aggression Cookies. And right now, we’re mixing up a cake …” Hannah went to the refrigerator to take out the pan with the cookie bars. “Would you like a cookie bar, Mother?”

“Yes, thank you, dear. And I’ll try the cookies, too. Bud and I met for dinner, but we were running late and we didn’t want to take time for dessert.”

“You went out with Bud Hauge on a dinner date?” Hannah asked, wondering if Andrea was right and their mother was showing an interest in dating again.

“I certainly wouldn’t call it a dinner date, dear. We had patty melts at the cafe, and then we went over to the school for the talent show. Bud’s niece plays with Kenny Kowalski’s All-Girl Accordion Band.”

Michelle delivered two cookies to their mother, one with chocolate chips and the other with golden raisins.

“Thank you, dear.” Delores turned back to Hannah, who was cutting the cookie bars at the counter. “I just stopped by to see how you were faring in light of your … unfortunate discovery. I knew Norman wasn’t back yet, and I was concerned. I’m very glad to see that you’re coping so well.” Delores stopped and took another sip of coffee. “You knew him, didn’t you, dear?”

It was the question she’d been expecting ever since she’d first seen her mother at the door. Although Delores didn’t know for certain, she suspected that Bradford Ramsey had been the unnamed man Hannah had told her about, the man who’d broken her heart in college. Under any other circumstances, Hannah might have admitted it, but this was a murder investigation and she didn’t want to put her mother in the position of having to lie to the authorities if she was questioned.

“We all knew him, Mother,” Hannah said, settling for a partial truth. “Not only was he Michelle’s faculty advisor, he was a guest right here in my condo for Christmas Eve dinner. But of course you were here too, so you already knew that.”

“Yes. I just meant that … you seemed to be so upset when he bumped into you at Stewart Hall last winter when we were going to my small business class.”

“Of course I was upset. He scattered the contents of my purse all over the floor.”

“But you made some comment about how he wasn’t a nice man.”

“That’s perfectly true. I thought his apology wasn’t sincere. Anyone who was truly sorry would have gotten right down there on his knees and helped me pick up the contents of my purse, even though I said I didn’t need help.”

“Oh. Well … I suppose you’re right. He did seem more interested in getting to his class on time than he was about helping to right the damage he’d caused.”

“My point exactly. You remember what I said when you asked me about it, don’t you?”

“Yes. You said you didn’t want to talk about it.”

“That’s right. I was trying to calm down, and talking about it would have just made me angry at him again.”

“Oh.” Delores gave her a searching look. “Then I totally misinterpreted the reason you didn’t want to discuss it?”

“Yes.” Hannah found she couldn’t quite meet her mother’s eyes, so she busied herself by placing several cookie bars on a plate and carrying them to the table.

“These look lovely,” Delores complimented her. “I’m glad you baked, dear.”

“So am I. Baking is wonderful therapy.” And then, because she just couldn’t resist, Hannah added, “You really ought to try it sometime.”

“Moi? Surely not, dear! Why would I even attempt to bake when you do it so well?”

Nicely said, Mother, Hannah thought, but she didn’t say it. Instead she motioned toward the plate. “Please help yourself.”

Delores selected one of the cookie bars and took a bite. A moment later, her face was wreathed in a smile. “Delicious!” she pronounced. “These are just wonderful, dear.”

“I’m glad you like them. Will you excuse me for a couple of minutes? Michelle and I need to finish the Wacky Cake batter.”

“The what, dear?”

“Wacky Cake. It’s a one-pan cake. You mix it and bake it in the same pan. And it doesn’t have any eggs.”

“That’s unusual for a cake?” Delores guessed.

“Very unusual,” Hannah told her. “This is a cake that Suzy’s grandmother used to make during the Second World War when there was rationing and sometimes people couldn’t buy eggs.”

“I remember your grandparents talking about that.”

“There’s a note on the recipe,” Hannah told her, retrieving the folded piece of paper from the counter. It says, From the time of World War Two when eggs could be scarce unless you kept chickens, there weren’t fifteen different types of flour in the grocery store, and tap water was safe to drink.”

Delores gave a little laugh. “I guess that says it all.”

“I’ll finish the cake,” Michelle offered. “You can sit down and talk with Mother.”

Hannah’s eyes narrowed as she shot a look at her baby sister. The last thing she wanted to do right now was converse with her mother, and Michelle knew it. Delores would want to know the whole story of how she’d found Bradford dead on the stage, and she didn’t feel like talking about it.

“Thanks a lot, Michelle,” Hannah said, and Michelle winced slightly. It was clear she knew that Hannah meant just the opposite.

She was stuck and she knew it. Hannah poured herself a cup of coffee and carried it to the table. But before she could sit down across from Delores, the doorbell rang. She’d been saved by the bell, the doorbell to be specific. Mike must be here to take her statement.

“That’s probably Mike,” she said to her mother. “He said he’d drop by to interview me.”

Delores looked pleased. “That’s perfect, dear. I was planning to ask you all about it. If Mike takes your statement right here at the table, you won’t have to tell your story twice.”

Hannah said nothing, although she was fairly certain Mike would insist on taking her statement in private. Even though he was no longer a complete slave to police procedure, she doubted he’d bend the rules just to satisfy her mother’s curiosity. She walked to the door and opened it, but it wasn’t Mike who was standing there on the landing.

“Hi, Hannah,” Andrea said, stepping into the condo. “I thought you might be upset, so I came over just as soon as I put Tracey to bed. Is that Mother’s car in your extra space?”

“Yes. Come on in. We’re in the kitchen, baking.”

“Mother’s baking?”

“Not Mother. Michelle and I are baking.”

“But … isn’t that a little inappropriate under the circumstances?”

“What’s inappropriate about baking? I do it every day.”

“I know that, but you just found another dead body. Aren’t you upset?”

“Of course she’s upset,” Delores answered Andrea’s question. “It’s like this, dear … some people cry when they’re upset. Other people yell and throw things. Hannah bakes. And Michelle bakes, too.”

Andrea took a seat at the table and thought it over for a few seconds. “I guess that makes sense, in a way,” she said.

“Is there any news about Bill’s job offer, dear?” De-lores asked.

“Yes. They called him again this afternoon. I told you that Tachyon wants to fly us both to Fort Lauderdale first class so that Bill can meet their top executives and take a look at their operation?”

“You told us that yesterday,” Delores said.

“Well, Bill was pretty definite about refusing them yesterday. I heard every word he said.”

“Did he know you were listening?” Michelle asked.

“Of course not. I didn’t want him to think that I was eavesdropping.”

“But you were, weren’t you?” Michelle asked.

“No, I wasn’t eavesdropping. I stopped by the sheriff’s station to ask him what time he thought he’d be home. When I approached his office door, I heard him talking on the phone. The problem was, I wasn’t sure whether it was a private conversation or not. I knew that if it was private, it would have been rude for me to go in, so I stood there politely to wait until Bill was through.”

Hannah bit back a grin. If she ever needed a good spin doctor, Andrea would be her first choice.

“Anyway, I could tell Bill was talking to the man at Tachyon in Fort Lauderdale because he said it was really nice of them to offer to fly both of us there, but he really didn’t think it was fair to leave me alone in a hotel room all day with nothing to do in a strange city while he toured their headquarters and met with their top executives.”

“That was considerate,” Delores commented.

“Yes, it was. And I only had to point it out to him once last night.” Andrea stopped and shook her head. “They must want him really bad.”

Badly, Hannah mentally corrected her sister, but she didn’t say a peep. This was not the time for a grammar lesson.

“Anyway, he just listened for a few minutes and then he told them he’d think it over. And it turned out that it was really smart of him to say that about not wanting to leave me alone at the hotel.”

“They offered him something else?” Hannah guessed.

“And how! They said they’d introduce me to one of the executives’ wives my age and she’d show me around Fort Lauderdale. They said she’d take me to lunch at a wonderful restaurant where I could meet the other wives, and then the next morning a car would pick us up and we’d all spend the day at the most exclusive spa in town. They even mentioned a shopping spree to show me Fort Laud-erdale’s upscale boutiques. Can you believe it? It seems like the more Bill says no, the more they want him.”

“I’m going to keep that in mind when I’m out there looking for jobs,” Michelle said.

Andrea was silent for a moment, and then she gave a wry laugh. “I think that only works if they come to you. If I’d tried that with Al at the realty office, he would have told me to get lost. And then he would have turned right around and hired someone else.”

WACKY CAKE

Preheat oven to 350 degrees, rack in the middle position.

First set of ingredients:

1 and ½ cups all-purpose flour (don’t sift—just scoop it up and level it off)

1 cup white (granulated) sugar

½ teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon baking soda

3 heaping Tablespoons cocoa powder (about a quarter cup)

Choose a pan. Suzy’s cousin used a round cake pan about 2 inches high, her mother used a rectangular cake pan 8 inches by 12 inches, and her aunt used a square 9-inch by 9-inch cake pan that was two inches high. (Suzy says that opinions vary, but she doesn’t think the cake cares.)

Hannah’s Note: Suzy didn’t say to spray the pan with Pam or another nonstick cooking spray, but I figured it couldn’t hurt, so I did.

Put the flour, sugar, salt, baking soda, and cocoa powder into a bowl. Suzy says to sift all the ingredi-ents together, but Michelle and I just stirred them with a fork until everything was well blended.

Make three “pukas” (Suzy says those are holes or wells) in the mixed dry ingredients, just as if you were making a well in your scoop of mashed potatoes to hold the gravy.

Gather the second set of ingredients.

Second set of ingredients:

6 Tablespoons vegetable oil 1 teaspoon vanilla extract

1 Tablespoon vinegar (we used raspberry vinegar—it was good!)

1 cup cold water

Put the vegetable oil in the first puka, the vanilla extract in the second puka, and the vinegar in the third puka.

Pour the cup of cold water all over the top of the cake.

Mix everything up with a fork or a wooden spoon. Continue to beat (or fork) until the batter is smooth.

Bake at 350 degrees F. for 30 minutes.

Serve warm.

Suzy’s cousin says you shouldn’t remove the cake from the pan—just put the pan on the table and serve it that way. Suzy’s aunt says you should serve it with sweetened whipped cream or ice cream. Suzy’s mother frosts it in the pan. She sifts 2 cups of powdered sugar with a dash of salt in a bowl, and stirs in a teaspoon of vanilla extract and enough cream to bring it the right consistency.

Hannah’s Note: This is a great dessert for a novice baker to make!

Chapter Fourteen

They were all sitting in the living room, relaxing with another cup of coffee. A platter of cookies, bars, and frosted cake sat on the coffee table inviting everyone except the cats to indulge. Moishe had come out from under Hannah’s bed and he was sitting on Michelle’s lap. Cuddles, the sweet little cat that she was, had just left Andrea’s lap and was crossing the middle of the couch toward Delores.

“Why, just look at this!” Delores remarked, clearly pleased as punch when Cuddles climbed onto her lap. “She likes me!”

Hannah watched as Cuddles started to purr and gazed adoringly up at her mother. Then she turned to look at Moishe, and was forced to cover her burst of laughter with a cough. Moishe’s eyes had narrowed to slits, his hair was beginning to bristle, and his ears were flat against his head. Moishe was not at all pleased. He was staring at Cuddles as if her name were Benidicta Arnold, the biggest feline traitor ever to enter the Lake Eden city limits.

Delores had just said something about Joe Dietz and how he wanted her to come to his house to look at the silver he’d inherited from his sister, when there was a knock at the door. Hannah got up to answer it. This time it was bound to be Mike.

But she was wrong again and her eyes widened in surprise. “Norman?” she gasped.

Before Norman could answer, there was a gleeful yowl from the direction of her mother’s lap and a thud as Cuddles hit the rug running. Not to be outdone, Moishe jumped down with a heavier thud to run after her.

The spectacle of two cats racing toward him didn’t seem to faze Norman in the slightest. He opened his arms to catch the two flying felines as they jumped up almost simultaneously, sending him back a foot or two on the landing.

“Good heavens!” Delores gasped. “That was quite a sight!”

“You should have seen it from here,” Hannah told her. “I thought they were going to knock poor Norman over the rail.”

Norman laughed and nuzzled the two purring cats. “Not a chance,” he said, carrying them inside and placing them in their favorite spots on the back of the couch.

“Coffee?” Hannah asked him.

“Thanks, I could use some.” Norman gave her a quick smile and then he turned to Delores. “Mother said to tell you she’s going to bring you back some Venetian glass.”

“Wonderful!” Delores looked very pleased.

“And then Earl said he was going to buy you some completely outrageous shoes.”

Delores laughed. “I’m not sure I trust Earl’s taste in shoes, not after those beaded boots he bought at the mall!”

“I can’t say I blame you. Those eagles were pretty colorful.”

“Well, I hope they have a simply wonderful time sightseeing, and shopping, and everything else. And how was your visit with your old friends in Minneapolis?”

“Just fine. I toured the clinic. It’s ultramodern, and it’s got everything a dentist could possibly want.”

To Hannah’s ears, Norman sounded a bit envious, but perhaps that was only her imagination. She knew Norman liked his own dental clinic and he’d refurbished it just the way he wanted.

“How long has it been since you’ve seen your friends?” Andrea asked, making conversation.

“I saw two of them at the dental convention I went to last year, but I haven’t seen the other two for at least three years.”

Hannah entered the living room with Norman’s coffee and handed it to him. “I thought you weren’t coming back until tomorrow.” And then she asked the question that was uppermost in her mind. “What brought you back early?”

“I heard about the murder on the news. And I wanted to get back here as soon as I could. Do you need anything?”

“I don’t think so, but I’m glad you’re back,” Hannah said. She smiled at him and fought back a rush of happy tears. Norman had thought she might need him and he’d come running. He really did love her.

“Besides, my friends all had plans for this evening. And it seemed silly for me to stay over just so I could drop by the clinic in the morning to say goodbye. I drove partway here, and then I stopped at The Moosehead for something to eat.”

“I remember The Moosehead!” Delores exclaimed. “I’ll never forget the night Carrie and I won their karaoke contest.”

“Neither will we,” Michelle remarked, exchanging meaningful glances with her sisters.

“That’s where I heard about the murder,” Norman went on. “I was eating a steak sandwich at the bar, and it was on the news.”

Hannah’s euphoria at Norman’s return took a nosedive. He hadn’t dropped everything to race back to her. He’d been coming home anyway.

“Try these, Norman,” Delores said, pushing the platter closer to Norman and pointing to the Chocolate Marsh-mallow Cookie Bars. “Hannah and Michelle baked them, and they’re divine.”

“The Aggression Cookies are good too,” Andrea offered. “And so is the Wacky Cake.”

Norman shook his head. “Thanks, but I really can’t eat any more. I had a hot fudge sundae before I left The Moose-head.”

You betrayed me with dessert! Hannah’s mind shouted. You know I always have something good to serve with coffee, but you ordered dessert at The Moosehead anyway.

It was difficult not to react when one’s sensibilities had been so badly injured, but Hannah did her very best. She knew it was only a matter of time before the pleasant expression on her face slipped.

“I’d better pack up Cuddles and get home,” Norman said. “Rose is booked for an early morning checkup before she opens the cafe, and it’ll be close to midnight before I get home.”

“But aren’t you going to stay to say hello to Mike?” Delores asked. “He should be here any minute to take Hannah’s statement.”

Norman turned to Hannah. “Do you need me to stay?” he asked her.

“No, not really.”

“Good. I’ve had two really late nights in a row, and all I can think of is getting some sleep.”

“I’ll help you get Cuddles in her carrier,” Michelle said, jumping up from her seat on the couch.

Hannah said nothing. She was too surprised to speak. Not only had Norman refused her baked goods, he’d chosen to go home when he knew Mike was coming to see her.

“Something’s wrong with Norman,” Delores whispered, mirroring Hannah’s thoughts.

“I know.”

“Aren’t you going to find out what it is?” Andrea asked, keeping her voice low.

“He’s probably just tired,” Hannah said, covering for Norman even though she agreed that he was behaving strangely. “I’ll see what he says when I walk him to the door.”

“All ready,” Michelle said brightly, coming into the living room carrying a bag with all the things Norman had brought for Cuddles. She was followed by Norman, who was carrying Cuddles in her carrier.

“Thanks, Hannah,” Norman said. “I know she had a really good time.”

Hannah jumped up and took the bag from Michelle. “Watch Moishe, will you? I’ll see Norman and Cuddles out.”

When Hannah stepped out the door with Norman, she took a deep gulp of the warm night air. The humidity was high and the air felt heavy, laden with the scent of lilacs from the hedge that bordered the back of the condo complex.

“I can take that,” Norman said, holding out his hand for the bag.

“But can you handle that and the carrier, too?”

“Not a problem.”

Norman took the bag and was about to leave when Hannah grabbed his arm. “Is there something wrong?”

“Other than murder, you mean?”

Hannah laughed. Perhaps it was a lame joke, but it was a joke nonetheless. “Yes, other than murder. It’s just that you seem so … distant.”

“I told you. I didn’t get much sleep. Other than that, everything’s fine.”

“Okay. Goodnight then.”

Hannah turned to go, but Norman pulled her back. He dropped the bag and wrapped his free arm around her waist. “Everything’s going to be all right, Hannah. I promise.” And then he kissed her.

The kiss was warm. Friendly. Nice. It lasted only a second or two, and then Norman picked up the bag and hurried down the stairs.

Hannah stood there for a moment, breathing in the scent of lilacs and blinking back tears. Something was definitely wrong. Norman’s kiss had been the type of kiss you might give to an old friend.

Chapter Fifteen

By the time Mike knocked on the door at twelve twenty-five, Delores and Andrea had left, and Michelle had gone off to bed. Hannah was sitting on the couch, feeling about as deserted as a woman can feel. Mike wanted her to marry Norman, Norman had kissed her like an old friend, and she hadn’t heard from Ross in at least three months. The only bright note was that Bradford Ramsey was dead.

“Uh-oh,” Mike said when she opened the door. He took in her baggy old gray cotton sweats with one glance, and his gaze lingered on the pair of red socks she was wearing with the hole in the toe. “Are we feeling a little sorry for ourselves?”

“I can’t speak for you, but I am!”

A grin swept over Mike face. “Where’s your entourage?”

“Moishe’s sleeping with Michelle, Mother and Andrea left at eleven-thirty, and Norman took Cuddles home.”

“Norman’s back?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing really. He didn’t seem very glad to be back, but he was probably just tired.”

“It could be the wedding, too.”

“The wedding?”

“His mother just got married again. Maybe that made him feel a little strange. It doesn’t matter how old you are. If your mother gets married again, it’s still an adjustment. It might even have made him miss his dad more … you know?”

“You’re right! I didn’t even think of that.” Hannah felt a bit foolish for ignoring the obvious.

“Okay. Let’s get this done.” Mike took out his notebook while Hannah poured him a cup of coffee from the carafe on the table. He took a sip, ate one of the Chocolate Marshmallow Cookie Bars she served to him, and gave her a thumbs-up. “These are my new favorites,” he declared, taking another sip of coffee and setting the mug down on the table. “Ready?”

“I’m ready.”

“Tell me everything that happened from the time you left the ladies dressing room until you called me on your cell phone.”

Hannah complied, telling the events in her own words. She recounted how she’d wondered why the curtain wasn’t going up, how she’d glanced at the stage as she passed the wings, and how she’d seen Bradford sitting there in a chair. She told Mike how she’d attempted to wake him verbally from what she’d assumed was a nap. And then she stopped, shivering slightly.

“Good,” Mike praised her. “Now tell me what happened next.”

Hannah took another swallow of coffee in an attempt to clear the lump in her throat. She wasn’t sure why it was so hard to talk about Bradford, but it was. “When shaking his shoulder the first time didn’t work, I shook him harder. And then he toppled out of the chair and onto the floor and I … I saw he was … dead.”

“Approximately how much time do you think elapsed between the point when you realized that Professor Ramsey was dead and the call you placed to me?”

“I don’t know. Maybe two or three minutes? I stared at him for a while. It was just such a shock when he tumbled out of that chair. I remember noticing that he’d been eating one of our apple turnovers, because it was on the floor and half of it was gone.”

“What made you suspect he was dead?”

“I knew that just falling to the floor from a chair shouldn’t kill him. He hit his head, but not that hard. It was mostly as if he just crumpled, you know?”

“I know. Go on.”

“Well … he wasn’t moving and he didn’t seem to be breathing, either. I knew something was wrong, so I got out my LED light on my keychain. It took a minute for me to find it in my purse. When I switched it on, I looked at him and I knew.”

“How did you know?”

“I’m not sure, but I just knew. I didn’t feel for a pulse. I really hate to do that with dead people, and I was pretty sure he was dead. And that was when I called you so you could come and take care of it.”

“Thanks, Hannah.” Mike made a final note in his book and put down the pen. “That was very good. You covered almost everything without being asked.”

“That must be due to the practice I’m getting. How many dead bodies have I found anyway?”

“I think this makes it over a dozen, but who’s counting?”

Hannah refilled their coffee mugs and passed the platter of goodies again. This time Mike took an Aggression Cookie. “How did he die? Do you know yet?” she asked, before he could take a bite.

“I’m sorry, but that information …” Mike stopped and shrugged. “I don’t know why I’m bothering to give you the official party line. You’ll find out anyway. Professor Ramsey was stabbed.”

“Stabbed? But I didn’t see a knife!”

“That’s because the killer pulled it out and took it with him.”

Hannah felt a sudden chill and she cupped her hands around her mug of coffee. How close had she come to surprising the killer and putting herself in mortal danger?

“What’s the matter?” Mike asked.

“I was just wondering how close I came to …” Hannah stopped and swallowed hard.

“Interrupting the killer?” Mike waited until Hannah nodded and then he went on. “Did you see anyone backstage?”

“No. Not a soul.”

“Did you hear footsteps? Breathing? Anything that might have indicated another human presence somewhere in the vicinity?”

Hannah thought about that for a moment, and then she shook her head. “No. I think I would have known if someone were there.”

“How would you know if you didn’t see or hear them?”

“This might sound a little crazy, but I would have gotten that creepy feeling I get when I’m supposed to be alone and I’m not.”

“Okay. I’ll buy that.”

“You will?” Hannah was surprised. “It’s not exactly scientific.”

“Maybe not, but I get it, too. And it could be scientific.”

“How?”

Mike grinned and Hannah thought he looked a little sheepish. “It’s like a change in atmosphere, or in air pressure, or something like that.”

“You mean … you can feel that there’s another body in the space?”

“Yes. It’s like there’s a certain amount of air in the room. That’s what you expect when you first walk in. But then you realize there’s less air than you expected because somebody else who’s not supposed to be there is breathing some of it.”

“That’s it!” Hannah stared at him in amazement. “That’s exactly what I mean, but I never thought to say it that way.”

There was a moment when both of them were silent, eyes locked together, minds merged as one. And then both of them broke the connection. Hannah’s gaze dropped to her coffee mug, and Mike’s to his notebook.

“Only a couple more questions and we’re through,” Mike told her. “Do you know anyone who might have wanted to kill Professor Ramsey?”

“Me,” Hannah said, acting on instinct and jumping off into space like a cliff diver trusting that he’d hit the water just right and find the coins that the tourists had thrown for him.

It took Mike a moment to recover. Then he looked up from his notebook and stared at her. “What did you say?”

“Me,” Hannah repeated. She knew she had to tell him the truth, or at least part of it. Herb had heard her fighting with Bradford, and she wasn’t about to presume on their friendship by asking him to lie for her. She looked up at Mike, locked eyes with him again, and spoke in a completely steady voice. “I wanted to kill Bradford Ramsey,” she said.

Another pot of coffee later, and Hannah had told as much of her history with Bradford Ramsey as she wanted to tell. Mike had listened to every word, making no comment throughout her long recital, until she arrived at the conclusion. “And that’s why I wanted to kill him,” she said.

“But you didn’t.”

“No. But I wanted to, especially after that crack he made about Michelle.”

“Can’t say as I blame you,” Mike gave her a little smile. “As a matter of fact, it might be a good thing I’m already investigating his murder.”

This time it was Hannah who smiled. Mike hadn’t come right out and said he wanted to kill Bradford for what he’d done, but Hannah knew that’s what he was implying.

“I hope you’ll help me out on this one, Hannah,” Mike said, turning to a fresh page in his notebook.

“I will if I can.”

“I’m starting with a blank slate here. I didn’t know the victim at all. Any background I get on him has got to come from computer searches or other people. I want you to think back, Hannah. Do you know anyone, from your time in college right up to the present, who might have had a reason to kill Professor Ramsey?”

“Try his ex-wife,” Hannah suggested. “At least I think she’s his ex-wife. He was married when I left college and there’s no wife in the picture now.”

Mike made a note in his book. “Anyone else?”

“You might want to check around at the community college. He started teaching there before Christmas, and he was the type to play around.”

“With students?”

“Students, faculty, whoever,” Hannah said with a shrug. “It’s possible he left a trail of angry women behind him. And if any of those angry women are married, there could be angry husbands, too.”

“I’ll check on that. I’m almost positive this is a crime of passion and a jealous husband or wife would fit the M.O.”

“How do you figure that?”

“The knife wounds were deep, and Doc Knight said the killer used a lot of force. Whoever did it really wanted Professor Ramsey dead. And although the first stab wound was lethal, the killer stabbed him four more times.” Mike jotted another note to himself in his book and then he looked up. “Any other suggestions? You knew him a hundred percent better than I did.”

“That’s true, but it’s been a while and it’s not like we kept in touch. And I never knew that much about him personally. You could pull his personnel records from the college and explore his job history. And it wouldn’t hurt to find out how he got along with his colleagues and his bosses. That might be important.”

“How about Michelle?”

Hannah had all she could do not to gasp. “What about her?” she asked.

“She’s been at Macalester for over two years. She might have heard some rumors about him.”

“You’re right.” Hannah breathed a sigh of relief. Mike wanted nothing more than background from Michelle. “I’ll ask her in the morning and get back to you.”

Mike snapped his notebook shut and stuck it back in his pocket. Then he reached out to pet Moishe, who had left Michelle’s bed and come out to join them midway through the interview. “I guess that’s it then.”

“Aren’t you going to ask if I’m going to nose around? And then warn me about interfering with an official investigation?”

“Are you going to nose around and interfere with an official investigation?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Hannah said quite honestly. She never dreamed about things she was going to do.

“Gotta move, big guy,” Mike said, gently unseating Moishe so that he could stand up. “Call me if you come up with anything, will you?”

“You’ll be the first to know.” Hannah followed Mike to the door.

“There’s only one thing I don’t get,” Mike said, turning around to face her.

“What’s that?”

“If you knew Professor Ramsey that well when you were in college, why did he pretend he didn’t know you when he came here for Christmas Eve dinner?”

“He wasn’t pretending.”

“What?”

Hannah gave a little shrug, as if she didn’t care. “Bradford didn’t remember me,” she said. “He knew my name because Michelle mentioned it, but he had no idea who I was.”

Mike was silent for a moment and then he pulled her into his arms. He gave her a hug and then he kissed her. It was not the sort of kiss you’d give to an old friend, and Hannah felt her knees go weak.

“It’s like I said before …” Mike reached out to touch her lips with his finger and then he opened the door and stepped out. “It’s a good thing I’m already investigating his murder!”

Chapter Sixteen

It was just as her grandmother Ingrid had said. Old habits died hard. Hannah’s eyes flew open on the dot of four twenty-nine and she reached out to shut off the alarm before it could ring. When her fingers touched the button that wasn’t pulled out to activate the alarm, she remembered. This was the morning she could sleep in for an extra two hours. Lisa had promised to recruit Marge and Patsy to help her with the baking.

Two more hours in bed was a luxury. Hannah fell back against the soft pillows and gave a contented sigh. She reached out to pet the cat who was purring on the pillow next to hers, and let her eyes flutter closed. Two more hours of sleep was the best present in the world. She felt just like she had on Christmas morning, years ago, when she’d run down the stairs to find a shiny new bicycle under the tree!

The pillow was soft, the sheets were still warm, and sublime comfort was all around her, from the darkened room with the low glimmer of the bulb in the Tiffany lamp her mother had given her to the fluffy quilt kept ready at the foot of the bed, a precaution in case the morning hours brought the damp or the cold. This morning the air was perfect, both in temperature and in humidity. The slight breeze from the screened window was like a caress on her skin, and she was totally relaxed. She was tired, yes. But she wasn’t sleepy. Not a bit. Not even a smidgen. And her mind was doing jumping jacks behind her closed eyelids, begging for its morning coffee.

Hannah mumbled a word she’d never use around her young nieces and sat up in bed. Since she couldn’t go back to sleep, she might as well get up and start the day. Perhaps she’d have time for a nap in the afternoon. Just because she hadn’t napped since she was three years old didn’t mean it couldn’t happen today.

Once she’d showered and dressed, Hannah hurried down the hallway, being careful to tread quietly as she passed the guest room. Michelle hadn’t gotten much sleep either, and before Delores had left, she’d told Michelle to take the morning off and come in at noon.

As she approached the kitchen, Hannah began to frown. The bright lights were on. She must have been so tired last night that she’d forgotten to switch them off.

“Hannah!” Michelle gasped, so startled she came very close to knocking over the mug of coffee she was drinking at the kitchen table. “What are you doing up so early?”

“Woke up. Couldn’t sleep,” Hannah explained in the fewest words possible. This was not the time for an involved explanation that would take precious time, not when her throat felt parched and every cell in her body was screaming for caffeine.

Hannah poured herself a cup of coffee, carried it over to the table, and sat down in a chair. She took the first life-saving sip, gave a sigh of utter contentment, and took another. The body was beginning to function again and the brain wasn’t far behind. Another few sips and there should be a full lexicon of words at her disposal.

“I couldn’t sleep, either,” Michelle admitted. “I kept thinking about that last fight I had with him. I told him I hoped he’d choke on a mango and die!”

“It must run in the family.”

“You told him you hoped he’d choke on a mango?” Michelle asked incredulously.

“I said a cantaloupe, but it’s close enough. I assume he was still in the habit of eating fruit for breakfast?”

“Right.” Michelle drew a deep breath. “And speaking of breakfast, I made some.”

“I thought I smelled something good, and I didn’t think it was leftover baking smells from last night.”

“I baked Breakfast in a Muffin, and I think they’re cool enough to eat. Do you want one?”

“Of course I want one. Is this another one of your creations?”

“Yes.” Michelle went over to the counter and brought back two muffins on a plate. “It’s for people on the go, like you and me. It’s got bacon and egg and cheese on top. I tried one and they’re good.”

“It sounds good,” Hannah said, breaking open a muffin, slathering it with butter, and taking a bite. She chewed, swallowed, and smiled. “It is good, and it’s a great idea for the coffee shop. A lot of people feel guilty eating cookies for breakfast, but they’d gobble these right up.”

Michelle was silent as Hannah ate her muffin. Her forehead was furrowed and Hannah could tell she was thinking about something that was bothering her deeply. “What’s the matter, Michelle?” she asked.

“I’ve been thinking about that book you found in Bradford’s office, the one with the poetry he said he wrote.”

“Yes?” Hannah took another sip of her coffee.

“Well, I think there’s a precedence for using someone else’s work … in academia, I mean.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Bradford used Tim Pearson’s work.”

Hannah got up to refill her coffee mug. “Who’s Tim Pearson?” she asked as she carried it back to the table.

“He’s Bradford’s research assistant, and he brought me home after the jazz concert on Sunday night. All the full professors have research assistants. Bradford brought Tim with him from Macalester because they were working on a project together.”

“What kind of a project?” Hannah asked, even though she wasn’t sure how important that was.

“Bradford said it was a study of seventeenth-century roots in eighteenth-century English poetry. He told me all about it. He said that it had turned into a really hot topic, and he had to publish fast before some other professor from another college beat him to it.”

“Did he make it?”

“Yes, and it’s a real coup for Macalester to have one of their professors lead the field on such an important topic. Bradford told me he was sure he’d be department head next year.”

“Was it publish or perish?”

“I think so. But the thing is, I don’t think Bradford wrote any of that paper. I’m pretty sure Tim wrote the whole thing.”

“Did Tim get his name on it, too?”

“No. We talked about that when he brought me home on Sunday night. He told me he didn’t expect any kind of credit.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s almost never done. The professor takes full credit, and the research assistant just does his job.”

Hannah bristled slightly. Inequity always disturbed her. Perhaps it was a good thing that she hadn’t stayed in academia. “That really doesn’t seem fair to me.”

“I feel exactly the same way, but Tim told me it was a barter thing, that there was a job as an assistant professor at the community college and Bradford was going to recommend him for it. That was his payment for all the work he did on the project. Tim said the job was a sure thing and he was really looking forward to teaching in Lake Eden.”

“So Bradford recommended him and Tim got the job?”

Michelle stared at Hannah for a moment, and then she began to frown. “I don’t know. I think Tim said the selection committee was supposed to meet yesterday morning.”

Both sisters were quiet for a long, tense moment and then Michelle spoke. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“I’m almost certain I am. Do you know anybody at the college who’d know if Tim really did get the job?”

“Someone besides Tim, you mean?”

“Yes.”

“Not really, unless …” Michelle paused, and then she smiled. “Let’s ask Mother to ask her friend, Nancy.”

“Good idea! Dr. Nancy might know, and if she doesn’t, she can find out.”

“I’ll ask Mother to call her and get right back to you. But even if Tim didn’t get the job, he’s really not the kind to …” Michelle stopped speaking and gave a little sigh. “I keep forgetting.”

“What?” Hannah asked her.

“I keep forgetting what you told me after you caught Larry Jaeger’s killer. That almost everyone is capable of murder under just the right circumstances.”

When Hannah and Michelle got to The Cookie Jar, they found Lisa hard at work with Marge and Patsy. The first baker’s rack was already filled with baked cookies, and more were coming out of the ovens.

“You should have slept a lot later, Hannah,” Lisa chided her. “We’ve got everything under control here.”

“But I had to get here before you opened so I could tell you about finding the body, and you could embellish it to thrill our customers.”

Lisa laughed as she handed Hannah a cup of coffee from the kitchen coffee pot. “I was going to make the whole thing up, but it’s better if part of it’s true. Herb wants to talk to you first, though. He’s in the coffee shop having a cup of coffee. Just go on in and I’ll join you in a couple of minutes.”

Hannah took a deep breath and pushed through the swinging door to the coffee shop. The first sight that met her eyes was a reflection of the eastern sky in the plate glass window of Lake Eden Realty across the street. The sky was a dim blue glow that was only slightly lighter than the darkness that framed the window. Hannah knew that the blue glow would soon lighten to violet, and then to pink. A few moments later it would take on a yellow tone, and finally it would graduate to a golden expanse of brilliance as the sun rose.

“Hannah?” a voice called her from the back table.

“Hello, Herb.” Hannah carried her coffee cup to the table and sat down. “I hope you didn’t have a bad night because of me.”

“I sure wish I hadn’t overheard that conversation,” Herb said. “I just wanted you to know that I’m not going to say a word about it to anybody, and that includes Lisa and the authorities.”

Hannah reached out to pat his hand. “Thanks, Herb. I already told Mike all about it, but I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention it to anyone else. It’s … well … it’s embarrassing.”

“We’ve all got embarrassing things in our past,” Herb said, giving her hand a little squeeze. “There are a couple of things that happened to me way back when that I’d rather Lisa wouldn’t know about.”

“I understand. I wouldn’t want Michelle to know about that conversation I had with Bradford Ramsey, either.”

“She won’t hear it from me.” Herb took a sip of his coffee, and then he chuckled. “Lisa’s all excited about telling the story of how you found the professor. I think I married a frustrated actress.”

“Who’s a frustrated actress?” Lisa arrived at their table and plunked down her coffee cup. “I’m just glad you’re here early, Hannah. Now you can give me some tidbits, and I can make up the rest.”

Hannah smiled at her partner. She was surprised that the Lake Eden Players, their amateur theater group, hadn’t waged an active campaign to recruit Lisa for their leading lady.

“I was still in the dressing room when I realized that it was time for the second act to start,” Hannah told her. And then she proceeded to tell Lisa the details.

“Perfect!” Lisa exclaimed when Hannah was through. “Just hide out in the kitchen and I’ll handle all the questions about the murder. We’re going to sell a gazillion cookies today!”

“I’m sure you’re right,” Hannah said. And then she wondered how Bradford would have felt to know that he was worth at least five times his weight in cookies.

BREAKFAST IN A MUFFIN

Preheat oven to 400 degrees F., rack in the middle position.

2 cups all-purpose flour (no need to sift)

1 heaping Tablespoon white (granulated) sugar

½ teaspoon salt

2 and ½ teaspoons baking powder

3 large eggs

1 cup whole milk or light cream (I used milk)

½ cup melted butter (1 stick, 4 ounces, ¼ pound)

12 strips of bacon, fully cooked

12 small or medium eggs

½ cup shredded cheddar, Swiss, or jack cheese (I used sharp cheddar)

Hannah’s 1st Note: Before you start these muffins, you must decide which type you want to make. You can use a regular 12-cup muffin pan, or a jumbo pan that makes 6 muffins.

In a large bowl, combine the flour, sugar, salt, and baking powder. Stir them all up together with a fork until they’re evenly combined.

Break the 3 large eggs into a medium-sized bowl and whip them up with a wire whisk.

Add the milk and whisk it in.

Add the melted butter and mix well.

Make a well in the bowl with the flour mixture. Dump the liquid mixture into the well and mix it all up with a spoon until everything is well moistened. (This batter is supposed to be lumpy—don’t stir it smooth.)

Michelle’s Note: I forgot once and mixed the shredded cheese into the batter. The muffins didn’t look as nice, but they tasted every bit as good.

Grease (or spray with Pam or another nonstick cooking spray) a pan with 12 muffin cups, or a jumbo muffin pan with 6 cups.

Give the batter a final stir, and then put a spoonful of batter in the bottom of the cups, enough to cover the bottom.

Form one strip of cooked bacon into a circle that’ll fit inside your muffin cup. Press it down in the batter like a little circular fence. Do the same for the other muffin cups.

Crack and separate a medium-size egg. Put the white into a bowl so that you can make Angel Kiss Cookies, Angel Pillow Cookies, or an egg white omelet later. Slide the yolk inside the little bacon corral you just made. (If the yolk breaks, don’t despair— it’ll still taste good.) Do the same for the other muffin cups.

Hannah’s 2nd Note: If you’re making jumbo muffins, use 2 strips of bacon and two egg yolks for each muffin.

Divide the remaining batter among the partially-filled muffin cups, just spooning it in on top. These muffins don’t rise a lot, so they can be filled almost up to the top.

Sprinkle the grated cheese on the tops.

Place your muffin tin on a drip pan (just in case) and put it into the oven.

Bake the regular muffins at 400 degrees F. for 25 minutes. Bake the jumbo muffins at 375 degrees F. for the same amount of time, 25 minutes.

Yield: 12 regular or 6 jumbo muffins that look very pretty when you slice them in half.

Hannah’s 3rd Note: These muffins can be reheated in the microwave and they’re almost as good as they are right out of the oven.

Chapter Seventeen

Marge pushed through the swinging door to the coffee shop, and Hannah heard part of Lisa’s rendition. Her partner was telling their customers the tale of how Hannah had found the professor’s body.

“Professor Ramsey?” Hannah asked softly, but the only sounds she heard were the rustling of people fanning themselves with their programs, a low murmuring as they speculated on why intermission was lasting so long, and an occasional cough from the victim of a summer cold.

Lisa paused, and Hannah couldn’t help but smile. Her young partner was a great storyteller.

“Wake up, Professor Ramsey” Lisa went on. “It’s time for the second act!” Hannah’s voice was a little louder, cutting through the noise behind the velvet curtain so that he could hear her. But again, he did not answer. She walked forward, right up to the chair where he was sitting and took hold of his shoulder with her fingers.

Hannah heard several gasps from the audience. They knew what was coming.

His shoulder was cold, but Hannah decided that was due to the powerful air-conditioning system they used on the stage to combat the heat from the white hot lights. She gave a little shake with her hand and leaned close to his ear. “Wake up! Everybody’s waiting for you!”

He did not wake, and Hannah shook his shoulder again, a bit harder. And then harder still until … to her horror … he toppled from the chair like a rag doll, arms and legs flopping helplessly to land on the stage in a tangled heap.

“Poor Hannah!” someone exclaimed. Hannah was almost positive it was Bertie Straub.

“Shhh!” someone else warned. “Go on, Lisa.”

Hannah’s hands flew to her mouth to muffle her startled gasp. What was wrong with Professor Ramsey? Could he possibly be drunk? But there was no smell of strong spirits emanating from his open mouth as he lay there perfectly still, perfectly unmoving, perfectly silent. Hannah glanced down at him, horrified. And then she knew …

The door swung closed behind Marge and Lisa’s recital was cut short. Hannah chuckled so hard, she had to sit down at a stool at the workstation. Between the murder mysteries Lisa had been reading on the nights Herb worked late, and her natural flair for the dramatic, they really ought to sell tickets instead of cookies.

She’d just taken the last sheet of cookies from the oven when there was a knock on the back door. Hannah slid the cookies onto the baker’s rack, wiped her hands on a towel, and went to the back door to open it.

“Hannah.” It was Mike and he looked a bit contrite. “I know you’re working, but I really need to talk to you for a minute.”

Hannah smiled and ushered him to a seat at the workstation. “Coffee?” she asked.

“Only if you have time.”

“I’ve got plenty of time. Lisa’s out there performing a solo play called, Hannah Finds the Professor’s Body, Marge is dishing up cookies by the dozen, Jack is going around with the coffee carafe, and Patsy’s running the cash register.”

Mike laughed and shook his head, but he sobered when Hannah brought him a mug of coffee and two cookies. “What are these?” he asked, indicating the cookies. “They’ve got little holes all over them.”

“They’re Sesame Seed Tea Cookies. I got the recipe from Sally when she packed those lunches for the film crew.”

Mike took a bite. “They’re good, and they’re different. I like that. And they go really well with coffee.”

Hannah took a stool across from Mike and waited until he’d finished one cookie. Then she asked, “What can I do for you?”

“I just finished interviewing the victim’s ex-wife. Did you know her?”

“I met her at an English department party, and I saw her around campus, but I really didn’t know her. We said hello when we saw each other and that was about it.”

“Would you say they had a good marriage?”

“I have absolutely no idea.” Hannah looked up at Mike and sighed. “I told you all about it, how he said we’d always be together, and all the time he was engaged to her. It was painful for me when I saw them together. I avoided them the best I could, but the campus still wasn’t big enough for the three of us.”

“Do you think he told her about you?”

“I’m almost sure he didn’t. I’m basing that assumption on the fact that he didn’t tell me about her. She certainly didn’t act as if she knew. Stacey was always quite friendly when we met.”

“Stacey?”

“Yes. Her name was Stacey.”

“You’re absolutely sure?”

“Of course I’m sure. As far as I was concerned, she was the other woman!”

“When did they get married?”

“Let me see …” Hannah thought back to that unhappy time in her life. “It was a little over four years ago, I think.”

“Uh-oh,” Mike said, rubbing his eyes. “The woman I interviewed wasn’t Stacey. Her name was Marilyn Ramsey.”

“But that’s impossible unless … Marilyn must be another ex-wife.”

“You’re probably right.” Mike flipped through his notebook. “I didn’t ask her when they were married. Turns out I should have. I’ll do a search for Stacey Ramsey and interview her, too. Two ex-wives in four years … the professor sure got around, didn’t he?”

“I guess he did,” Hannah admitted.

“You knew that about him?”

Hannah shook her head. “I trusted him completely.”

“You did?”

“Yes. Isn’t that what people in love are supposed to do?”

Mike thought that over for a long moment and then he got up, walked around the workstation, and leaned over to kiss her on the cheek.

“Yes. And that’s probably why I love you so much,” he said.

***

There was a buzzing in her ears like a thousand mosquitoes had descended on her arm. Hannah adjusted her cheek on the hard surface and decided that she was too tired to wave them away. After all, mosquitoes had to eat, too.

The buzzing continued, but her arm felt fine. It wasn’t itching, or swelling, or feeling any other way than normal. Perhaps the mosquitoes didn’t like her blood. That was the reason Norman always gave for the fact that mosquitoes didn’t seem to bite him.

There was a breeze as a door opened. Hannah felt it, but she didn’t open her eyes. And then she felt eyes staring at her. A giant mosquito who’d come to feast on her and leave her drained dry like an empty husk? The chorus of mosquitoes was still buzzing. Were they, perhaps, paying homage to their leader?

“Hannah? You’re going to get a stiff neck sleeping like that,” a voice said very close to her ear. “And your stove timer’s ringing. Do you want me to take something out of the oven for you?”

Marge. It was Marge’s voice. The giant mosquito sounded exactly like Marge. Hannah lifted her head from the stainless steel work surface and blinked groggily. It was Marge.

“Is there something in the oven?” Marge asked.

“Cookies,” Hannah just barely managed to say.

“Just sit there. I’ll get them. And then I’ll pour you a cup of coffee so you can wake up. Norman’s out front and he wants to see you.”

“Norman,” Hannah mumbled. The stainless steel surface of the workstation was beckoning. Who would dream that stainless steel could be so comfortable. But Norman was here and she had to wake up.

“Drink this,” Marge said, much too soon to suit Han- nah, as she plunked a mug of coffee down next to Hannah’s head. “Wake up and smell the caffeine.”

One sniff and Hannah felt almost alive. Another sniff and she sat up to reach for the mug. She took a sip of the scalding hot brew and gave a grateful sigh. “Coffee. Good,” she said.

“You sound like Frankenstein’s monster,” Marge said, chuckling at her own joke. “You’d better have more coffee before I send Norman back here to see you.”

Hannah took another sip. And then she took another. With each swallow, the curtain of sleep lifted slowly from her eyes. By the time she’d drained the coffee mug, she felt almost like her old self again.

“Ready?” Marge asked her.

“Ready. I didn’t burn any cookies, did I?”

“No. Do you feel better after your sleep?”

Hannah made a quick assessment. She felt more alert than she had all day, and other than the soreness in her neck, she seemed to be just fine. “I’m a lot better now. It’s amazing how refreshing a ten-minute nap can be.”

Marge laughed. “It wasn’t ten minutes,” she said. “It was more like an hour and a half. I looked in twice through the window on the door and you were sleeping like a baby.”

“I don’t understand. I distinctly remember setting the timer for ten minutes. If I really did sleep for an hour and a half, the cookies would be incinerated.”

“That’s true,” Marge said, and then she turned around to point to the sheets of unbaked cookies on the baker’s rack. “But you forgot to put them in the oven!”

“Hi, Hannah.” Norman walked into the kitchen. “I had an hour between appointments, and I thought I’d drop in to see you.”

“That’s nice. Do you have time for cookies and coffee?”

“Yes, thanks.”

“Which kind of cookie would you like?”

“Whatever you have handy will be fine. All of your cookies are great.”

Hannah went to the coffee pot to pour Norman a cup. They were being unbearably polite. It was almost as if they were strangers, and that was about as far from the truth as you could get.

“How’s Cuddles?” Hannah asked as she handed Norman his coffee mug and went to the baker’s rack to fill a small plate with cookies.

“She’s fine. I think she was happy to get home, but I’m pretty sure she misses Moishe. When we went to bed, it took her a while to get comfortable. And maybe I’m imagining things, but I thought she looked a little lonely. I figured that was because both cats slept with you and she missed the company.”

Hannah smiled as she delivered the plate of cookies. “You’re right. They both slept in my bed and there was barely room for me. I was absolutely amazed how much space two cats can take up when they’re all stretched out.”

“It’s pretty amazing, all right. I’ll bet you slept better last night.”

“I was so tired last night, I went to sleep the minute my head hit the pillow. But I did notice that Moishe seemed a little restless. Maybe it was a dream, but I thought he kept going back and forth into the living room.”

“That’s what Cuddles did!”

“Do you think she was looking for Moishe?”

“Maybe. And maybe Moishe was looking for Cuddles.” Norman gave a little chuckle. “We might have to arrange sleepovers for the cats. On Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and alternate Sundays, I get Moishe. And on Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday, and alternate Sundays, you get Cuddles.”

“Do we need Howie Levine to draw us up an order for joint custody?” Hannah joked. And she was rewarded with a big laugh from Norman. Hearing him laugh made her feel better immediately. He seemed almost like his old self again.

“You’re going to investigate, aren’t you?” Norman asked, biting into a cookie. “I like these, Hannah. They’re not too sweet and they crunch. They’d be really good with a dish of ice cream.”

“Thank you. They’re Sesame Seed Tea Cookies. And yes, I’m going to investigate.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

“I’m sure there is, but I don’t know what it is yet.” Hannah stopped and thought for a moment. “You could help me put together my suspect list. You’re good at things like that.”

“I’d be glad to help.”

“Good. Maybe we can do it at dinner before we go to the school.”

“The school?”

“You know. For Casino Night. I’ve never been to a fundraiser like that, but everyone says it’s lots of fun. You got the advance tickets, didn’t you?”

“Oh. Sure I did.”

“If you don’t mind, let’s not go all the way out to the inn for dinner. I really should help out for an hour on the apple turnover assembly line. If you pick me up at six-thirty, we’ll still have time to grab a hamburger at the cafe and get over to the school by seven-thirty.”

“Fine.” Norman said, finishing his cookies and standing up. “I’ll see you at six-thirty then.”

Hannah watched as he carried his mug to the sink. He gave a little wave as he went out through the swinging door to the coffee shop and she smiled and waved back. But the moment the door had swung closed behind him, her smile disappeared like one of Herb’s multicolored scarves. She supposed it was possible that she was mistaken, but she was almost positive that Norman had forgotten all about the plans they’d made for dinner and Casino Night before he’d left Lake Eden.

SESAME SEED TEA COOKIES

Preheat oven to 375 degrees F., rack in the middle position.

3 cups all-purpose flour (pack it down in the cupwhen you measure it)

¾ cup white (granulated) sugar

2 teaspoons baking powder

⅛ teaspoon salt

½ cup butter, softened (1 stick, 4 ounces, ¼ pound)

2 large eggs, beaten (just whip them up in a glass with a fork)

¼ cup whole milk

2 teaspoons vanilla extract

¼ cup whole milk in a bowl (not a misprint—you need ½ cup total)

¾ cup sesame seeds

Grease your cookie sheets or spray them with Pam or another nonstick cooking spray. You can also use parchment paper, if you prefer.

In a large bowl, stir together the flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt. Mix them up until they’re well blended.

Cut the butter into pieces and add them to the bowl. Blend them in with a pastry blender, or a fork, or two knives until the mixture resembles coarse cornmeal.

Hannah’s 1st Note: You can do the above in a food processor with the steel blade by putting in the flour, cutting COLD butter into 8 pieces and adding them, and then covering the butter with the sugar, baking powder, and salt. All you have to do is process with an on-and-off motion until the mixture resembles coarse cornmeal. Then transfer the mixture to a large mixing bowl and complete the recipe by hand.

Make a well in the center of the flour mixture and add the beaten eggs, 1/4 cup milk, and the vanilla extract. Mix with a spoon until a soft dough forms.

Divide the dough into 4 pieces. (Just eyeball it— this doesn’t have to be perfect.)

With your hands, roll each dough piece out into a long roll (resembling a snake) that’s approximately 1/2 inch in diameter. The rolls should be about 24 inches long.

Cut the rolls into 2-inch pieces with a sharp knife.

Put the sesame seeds in a shallow bowl. Dip each piece into the bowl of milk, and then roll it in the seeds. (The milk will make the seeds stick to the cookie dough.)

Place the sesame-covered pieces one inch apart on greased or Pammed cookie sheets. (Parchment paper or baking paper works well also.)

Bake the cookies at 375 degrees F. for 20 to 25 minutes, or until they’re golden brown.

Let the cookies sit on the cookie sheets for one or two minutes, and then remove them to a wire rack to cool completely.

Yield: Approximately 4 dozen, depending on cookie size.

Hannah’s 2nd Note:These cookies are light, crispy, and not too sweet. Mother loves them with strawberry ice cream, and Carrie likes them with sweetened herbal tea.

Chapter Eighteen

“So you knew him?” Norman asked, picking up his last French fry.

“He was an assistant professor when I was going for my masters,” Hannah said, hoping that would be enough of an explanation to satisfy Norman.

“That’s funny. He didn’t act as if he knew you on Christmas Eve.”

“It was pretty clear he didn’t remember me. And I wasn’t about to embarrass a guest by reminding him we’d known each other years ago.”

“Right.” Norman nodded. “What do you know about him?”

“I don’t know anything about his recent life, but there were rumors about him on campus. He had more than one girlfriend and it turned out that he was engaged at the time.”

“Then he’s got a wife or an ex-wife?”

“He’s got one ex-wife that Mike interviewed, and that’s not the same woman he married while I was on campus.”

“Two ex-wives then. How about now? Is he married again?”

Hannah shrugged. “I’m not sure. I don’t think we have to worry about the wives, though. Mike’s checking into those. He does seem to think it’s a crime of passion since the first stab wound was lethal and he was stabbed four more times.”

“Revenge?”

“That’s certainly possible. Revenge, jealousy, hatred … it could be any strong emotion, I guess.”

“He sounds like a guy that really played the field,” Norman said. “I wonder if any of that playing took place here in Lake Eden.”

“I’d be willing to bet it did. The only problem is identifying his playmates.”

“Delores?” Norman suggested. And at almost the same time Hannah said, “Mother?”

They looked at each other and laughed. “I’ll ask her,” Hannah promised. “It’s too bad your mother isn’t here. She’d enjoy helping.”

“I know. She loves to nose around for information. But what we really need is a spy on campus.”

“Michelle.” Both of them spoke at once again, and they even nodded in tandem.

“We did it again,” Hannah commented. “It’s like we’re twins or something. And that reminds me … You know the Connors twins, don’t you?”

“Sure. I whitened their teeth before their last big competition. I figured it was the least I could do for Lake Eden’s most famous couple.”

“Better not let Mayor Bascomb and Stephanie hear you say that!”

“You’re right. Now what about the twins?”

“They’re living on the campus now, and Sherri’s a secretary at the English department office. We could ask her if she’s heard the other secretaries talking about Bradford’s romances.”

“Good idea.” Norman waited until Hannah had jotted it down in the new steno pad she’d brought with her. “I wonder where Professor Ramsey lived.”

“Andrea could find out for us. If he lived on campus, there’ll be a vacancy and Lake Eden Realty handles all the college apartment leases. And if he lived off campus, there’ll be a house for rent and Lake Eden Realty will handle that, too.”

“We can talk to her tonight at the school. She’s going to Casino Night, isn’t she?”

“Yes. She called me this afternoon and said they’d be there. As sheriff, Bill’s expected to attend these big charity events.”

Norman glanced down at the steno pad and pointed to an entry Hannah had made earlier. “Who’s Tim Pearson?”

“Bradford’s research assistant. Tim wrote a paper for Bradford that gave him a rung up the academic ladder at Macalester. In payment, Bradford assured Tim that the assistant professor spot here at Lake Eden Community College would be his.”

“But those things are decided by committee, aren’t they?”

“Yes, they are. But Bradford knew everyone on the hiring committee, and he assured Tim that they’d take his recommendation.”

“I see. If Tim didn’t get that job, it’s a motive for murder. And that’s why you wrote down his name as a suspect?”

“Right.”

They both fell silent as Rose approached their booth with the coffee carafe. “More coffee?” she asked.

“Yes, thanks,” Hannah said, and Rose filled her cup.

“How about you, Dr. Rhodes?”

“I could use another cup,” Norman said.

“Now how about dessert?” Rose asked, once she’d cleared their table, rather efficiently Hannah thought, by moving their dirty dishes to another unoccupied booth. “I’ve got two pieces of Peachy Keen Cake left.”

Hannah sighed. There was no way she could resist Rose’s Peachy Keen Cake.

“Was that sigh a yes?” Rose asked her.

“Yes.” Hannah looked over at Norman. “Have you ever tried it?”

“No,” Norman said, looking interested.

“Well, then you’re in for a treat.” Hannah looked up at Rose with a smile. “We’ll each have a piece with a scoop of vanilla ice cream, please.”

Rose delivered their cake within a minute or two, and for almost a quarter-hour, there was no sound in Hannah and Norman’s booth any louder than the occasional soft moan of pleasure. But all good things must come to an end, and once they’d finished their cake and their dessert dishes had been cleared, Hannah turned back to her suspect list.

“Back to work,” Hannah said, staring down at the blank lines on the pad.

“How about students he flunked?” Norman suggested.

“Would that be a motive for murder?”

“It could be. Let’s say Professor Ramsey’s failing grade was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Because the student flunked his class, he flunked out of college. And because he flunked out of college, he … I don’t know. Lost his girlfriend? Got disowned by his family? Whatever. It’s got to be some dire consequence.”

“Or at least some consequence that the student thinks is dire.”

“Right.”

“It’s a great idea, Norman. But how can we get access to the community college grades?”

“I can probably find a way. Just write down failing student and leave the rest up to me.”

Hannah was more than happy to do that, and as she wrote it down, she thought of something else. “We should probably check into his finances to see if he was living above his means.”

“What will that prove?”

“College professors don’t make that much money, and he had two ex-wives. He might have had alimony and maybe even child support.”

“If he was strapped for money, he might have turned to some illegal way to get it?”

“Exactly.” Hannah gave him a smile. Norman always caught on fast. “There’s dealing drugs, blackmail, gambling, all sorts of things.”

“So we need to find out his salary. And then we need to find out what he was spending to see if he had any extra.”

Hannah glanced at her watch. “We’d better go. Casino Night starts in less than ten minutes.”

“Okay. I’m ready. I hope they have all the casino games. I feel lucky tonight.”

“So do I,” Hannah said, and it was perfectly true. Perhaps Mike had been right and Norman had been upset over Carrie’s marriage. Or perhaps he’d been exhausted from late nights with his dental school friends. It could even be that he envied their fancy new dental clinic and felt less successful practicing run-of-the-mill dentistry here in Lake Eden. It didn’t really matter what the problem had been, now that it appeared to be solved. She was just happy to have the old Norman, the comfortable sweet Norman she loved, back with her again.

ROSE’S PEACHY KEEN CAKE

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F., rack in the middle position.

4 egg whites (save the yolks to add to scrambled eggs in the morning)

¼ teaspoon cream of tartar

¾ cup softened butter (1 and ½ sticks, 6 ounces)

1 package (8 ounces) softened cream cheese (thebrick kind, not the whipped kind)

2 cups white (granulated) sugar

3 teaspoons baking powder

½ teaspoon salt

2 beaten eggs (just whip them up in a glass with a fork)

½ teaspoon almond extract

½ teaspoon vanilla extract

1 and ½ cups mashed peaches ***

2 and ½cups all-purpose flour (don’t sift—just fillthe measuring cup and level it off with a knife)

1 cup finely chopped blanched almonds

***-You can use fresh and peel and slice your own, or you can buy them already sliced and prepared in the ready-to-eat section at your produce counter, or you can use canned peaches.

Hannah’s 1st Note: This is a lot easier with an electric mixer.

Beat the egg whites with the cream of tartar until they form soft peaks. Set them aside in a bowl on the counter while you mix up the rest of the cake.

In another bowl, beat the softened butter, softened cream cheese and sugar together until they’re nice and fluffy.

Add the baking powder and salt. Mix them in thoroughly.

Add the beaten eggs, the almond extract, and the vanilla extract. Mix until they’re well incorporated.

Peel and slice the peaches (or drain them and pat them dry if you’ve used prepared peaches or canned peaches.) Mash them in a food processor with the steel blade, or zoop them up in a blender, or squash them with a potato masher until they’re pureed. Measure out 1 and ½cups of mashed peaches and add them to the bowl with the butter, sugar, eggs, and flavorings. Mix everything thoroughly.

Gradually add the flour to the peach mixture, beating at low speed until everything is incorporated. If you’re doing this by hand, add the flour in half-cup increments, stirring it in after each addition.

Mix in the chopped almonds by hand.

Gently fold in the beaten egg whites, trying to keep as much air in the batter as possible. It’s okay if there are a few white spots from the egg white that hasn’t been thoroughly incorporated.

Spray the inside of 3 round layer pans, one 9-inch by 13-inch cake pan, or one Bundt pan (don’t forget to spray the middle part) with Pam or another nonstick cooking spray, and then dust it lightly with flour. You can also use “baking spray,” the type with flour added.

Pour the cake batter into the pan or pans you’ve chosen.

Bake at 350 degrees F. for approximately 15 minutes for the layers, and 40 minutes for a 9-inch by 13-inch pan. A Bundt pan will take 50 to 60 minutes. Test for doneness by using a cake tester or a long toothpick inserted one inch from the center. When it comes out dry and not sticky, your cake is done.

Let the cake cool in the pans on a wire rack. If you used a Bundt pan, cool it on a wire rack for 15 minutes and then gently pull the edges of the cake away from the sides of the pan. Do the same for the fluted column in the middle of the pan. Then invert the cake onto another wire rack, lift off the pan, and allow it to cool completely.

Yield: One deliciously peachy cake.

Hannah’s 2nd Note: Rose says that when she makes this cake in layers, she uses peach jam between the layers and frosts it with Peachy Keen Frosting.When she makes this cake in a Bundt pan, she either dusts it with powdered sugar to “pretty it up,” or drizzles the top with Peachy Kean Glaze for Bundt Cakes. Sometimes she puts a few canned peach slices in the bottom of her Bundt Pan so that they’re on top when she turns out her cake.

Hannah’s 3rd Note: If you want to make cupcakes, pour the batter into greased and floured (or cupcake papered) muffin tins and bake at 375 degrees F. for 20 minutes or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. (Mini cupcakes should bake for 10 to 12 minutes or until slightly golden on top.)

PEACHY KEEN FROSTING

¾cup peach jam (I used Knott’s)

1 egg white (add the yolk to the 4 others you’ve saved to add to scrambled eggs)

Hannah’s 1st Note: If you can find peach jelly, (it’s clear with no pieces of peach in it) by all means use it. It will eliminate one step in making this frosting. I’ve never seen peach jelly in any store, so I use the jam.

Hannah’s 2nd Note: You can do this with a portable electric mixer or even an old-fashioned crank-type eggbeater. You might be able to do it with a wire whisk, but it’ll take some muscle.

Puree the peach jam in a food processor with the steel blade or in a blender. Once it has no lumps and is perfectly smooth, measure out 1/2 cup to use for the frosting. (If there’s any left over, just stir it into the jam left in your jar and put it back in the refrigerator.)

Put some tap water in the bottom of a double boiler and heat it until it simmers. (Make sure you don’t use too much water – it shouldn’t touch the bottom of thepan on top.) Off the heat, beat the egg white with the peach jam in the top of the double boiler. When it’s thoroughly blended …

Set the top of the double boiler over the simmering water and continue to beat until the jam has melted. You can tell because it will get thinner, almost like juice (3 minutes or so.)

Shut off the heat, lift the top of the double boiler off the bottom, and place it on a cold burner, or a towel on your kitchen counter. Continue to beat the frosting until it will stand up in peaks. (To test this, just turn off your beaters and lift them from the pan—if they leave peaks on the frosting, it’s ready to use.)

Yield: Enough Peachy Keen Frosting to cover a 9-inch by 13-inch loaf cake or 12 cupcakes.

Hannah’s 3rd Note: If you’ve used layer pans for this cake, Rose says to double the recipe because there’s nothing worse than trying to make frosting stretch. If you just make double in the first place, you’ll have plenty.

PEACHY KEEN GLAZE FOR BUNDT CAKES

½ cup peach jam

½ cup powdered sugar

Hannah’s Note: Rose says to tell you that making this glaze is almost as easy as dusting the cake with powdered sugar. You can do it in the microwave and it takes only 2 minutes.

Scoop the jam into a microwave-safe bowl with a pour spout or a 2-cup glass measuring cup.

Heat the jam on HIGH for 20 seconds. Stir. If it’s melted, you’re done. If it’s not, give it another 20 seconds.

Stir the powdered sugar into the hot melted jam by spoonfuls. Continue to add and stir smooth until your glaze is the right consistency to pour on top of your Bundt cake. You’ll want it thin enough so it’ll drip down the sides of the cake, and thick enough so it won’t all just run down in a flood and pool at the bottom of your cake plate.

Drizzle the glaze on top of your cake and let it drip artistically down the sides. Let the glaze cool and then refrigerate your cake until you’re ready to serve it.

Chapter Nineteen

Bright flashing lights, the sound of laughter, and excited voices spilled out of the open double doors to the Jordan High auditorium. Hannah and Norman handed their tickets to a student at the door and entered the transformed space.

Vegas couldn’t have done better. The seats had been removed from the floor of the auditorium and replaced with bistro-style tables and chairs. The area that had housed the last five rows of seats had been turned into four colorful booths. The outer two booths sold tokens to use at the game tables, and there was a line in front of both of them. One of the inner booths featured their apple turnovers for sale, and the other sold Silver Joe’s coffee made in the thirty-gallon coffee pots that the company had donated to the cause. Hannah had expected all that, but the central area between the turnover and coffee booths was a total surprise. It was called “Make Wishes Come True,” and it featured a decorative fountain with a ledge where people could sit. The fountain was a smaller rendition of the famous fountain in Rome, and it was a working fountain with real water jetting up into the air and cascading down to the pool below.

“That’s really something!” Norman exclaimed, spotting the fountain.

“It certainly is,” Hannah said, noticing that the pool was already filled with glittering coins.

“Watch the woman in pink,” Norman said, and Hannah turned to see a woman leave the token booth and toss some coins in the fountain. “She’s the third person to leave that booth and drop her change in the fountain,” Norman commented.

“That figures. It’s in the perfect spot.”

While Norman got in line to get their tokens, Hannah checked in at the apple turnover booth, accepted a small cup of coffee to go, and went back to sit on the ledge of the fountain to wait. Within a minute or two, five people had tossed in their loose change. It made perfect sense to Hannah. Tossing coins in the fountain was a lot easier than opening your purse, finding the right pocket for coins, and dropping them inside. She had no doubt that the fountain would be drained and relieved of its riches the moment Casino Night was over. When it came to raising money, Stephanie Bascomb didn’t miss a trick.

Once Norman had purchased their stack of tokens, they walked up the steps to the stage. The curtains and backdrops that had defined the stage area last night at the talent show had been pulled up to the ceiling to expose the whole basketball court. The wooden floor, itself, had been completely covered with carpeting. A sign hanging over the first row of gaming tables read Lake Eden Casino in flashing neon lights, and Hannah suspected it had been a charitable donation that would be auctioned off to enhance someone’s basement recreation room on the final night of the charity event.

“What do you want to play first?” Norman asked her. “Roulette? Poker? Blackjack?”

“I don’t know. I’m not very good at any of them. What do you suggest?”

“Roulette. It’s a game of pure chance, no skill required.” Norman took her arm and they began to walk toward the Roulette table. “All you have to do is choose red or black. Or odd or even. Those are all even money bets. Or you can pick a series of numbers like one through eighteen, or eighteen through thirty-six. Those are all even money bets.”

“Okay,” Hannah said, but it was a bit too much information to process. “I’ll choose …”

“Wait. There’s more,” Norman interrupted her. “I haven’t covered the two-to-one bets. You can choose dozens.”

“There are dozens of two-to-one bets?” Hannah asked, knowing she’d never keep all this straight.

“No. The bet is called dozens. If you pick the first dozen, it means you’re betting the ball will fall somewhere in the first twelve numbers. There’s also the second dozen, and the third dozen, so you’ve got a choice. And then there are the columns. You can bet on any column of three on the grid and that’ll pay two-to-one if you’re right. Dozens and columns are outside bets.”

“Great. Thanks for explaining it to me. I’ll choose …”

“Not quite yet,” Norman interrupted her again. “I still have to cover the inside bets. You can bet a single number, a street, a split, a corner, a five-number, or a double street. Most people say that the five-number bet is the worst bet on the table.”

“Then I won’t choose that.” Hannah gave a little laugh. “I’ll choose red since that’s my favorite color.”

“Okay. but it’s an even money bet. If you win, the payoff’s not as big.”

“Not as big as what?”

“Not as big as if you choose an inside bet.”

“Okay,” Hannah said. It was pretty obvious that Norman wanted her to make an inside bet, but things like corners, and streets sounded complicated. The easiest seemed to be the single number bet, but which number should she choose?

“Sit here, Hannah.” Norman pulled out a chair for her and took one himself.

“It looks complicated.” Hannah gazed down at the wheel, the grid, and the boxes. “Can’t I just watch?”

“If you’re sitting here, you have to play,” Norman explained. “Non-players have to stand.”

Hannah didn’t think it over for long. She was tired and she wanted to sit down. “I’ll play,” she said.

“Then place your bet.”

Unbidden, an image popped into Hannah’s mind. It was from a James Bond movie and he had just bet a bundle on seventeen. If that number was good enough for such an important fictional character, it was good enough for her! She reached out and placed her bet on number seventeen.

“They used to use an ivory ball,” Norman explained, gesturing to the wheel. “Now they’re usually plastic.”

Hannah stared at the wheel. It had thirty-eight numbered slots, each with the same colored background as the number on the table layout. She watched as the dealer spun the wheel in one direction and then rolled the ball in the opposite direction on a track that ran around the bowl that held the wheel. When the speed of the ball decreased, it fell off the track and onto the wheel itself. There it bounced around wildly until it settled in a numbered slot.

“Seventeen!” Hannah gasped. “That’s my number! Does that mean I won?”

“Yes it does, Little Lady,” the dealer said, smiling at her.

Under any other circumstances, Hannah would have bristled at the term Little Lady, but she was willing to be magnanimous, especially when the dealer pushed a big pile of chips across the table to her.

“Pick them up, Hannah,” Norman said, nudging her.

“But why? They’re okay there, aren’t they? There isn’t very much room in front of me and …”

Hannah was so excited, she didn’t even notice that the wheel was spinning again. The ball in the track slowed and the dealer called out, “No more bets.”

“But I didn’t get a chance to bet,” Hannah complained to Norman.

“Yes, you did. You bet that whole stack of chips you didn’t pick up.”

“Uh-oh!” Hannah groaned, mentally kicking herself for not listening to Norman’s advice. “Now I’m going to lose it all.”

“You’re only out one chip. The rest was house money. And don’t forget it’s all for charity.”

“Right,” Hannah said, but she continued to kick herself as the ball began to slow and settle in the numbered slot …

“Seventeen again!” Hannah couldn’t believe her eyes. “I won twice in a row!”

“Makes me wish we were betting real cash,” Norman said.

Hannah shook her head. “Then I wouldn’t have won. Tell me what to pick up … quick!”

They stayed and played for another few minutes, Norman instructing and Hannah listening carefully. There really was no skill required. All she did was choose a number, place her bet, and either pick it up herself or see it swept away by the dealer.

“Ready for some coffee?” Norman asked, not a moment too soon to suit Hannah.

“Yes. And then let’s walk around to see who’s here.”

Ten minutes, four wishes at the fountain, and two cups of coffee later, Hannah spotted Delores at a Blackjack table seated next to Doc Knight. “Let’s go say hello,” she suggested.

“Perfect timing,” Norman said as they approached. The dealer, who was using a shoe, had decided to replace the decks. That meant he had to break out, display, and shuffle four decks while the players waited. The process would take a few minutes, and that meant Hannah and Norman had time to talk to Delores and Doc Knight.

“Hello, dear,” Delores said when Hannah tapped her on the shoulder. And then she turned to Norman. “I’m glad you’re back at work, Norman. Luanne had a toothache this afternoon. She comes in at nine tomorrow. Do you have any time to see her in the morning?”

“Hold on. Let me check.” Norman pulled out his cell phone and pressed a few buttons. From where Hannah was standing, she saw a display with times and dates. “Send her down at ten.”

“Thank you, Norman. After you’re through, tell her it’s covered under the Granny’s Attic employee dental plan.”

“Which dental plan do you have?”

“The Delores Swensen checkbook plan. But I don’t want you to mention that. I’ll pay and she’ll think that our insurance covered it.”

“Must run in the family,” Doc said, who up to that point had taken no part in their conversation.

“Nonexistent dental plans?” Hannah asked him.

“No, paying medical bills for people who can’t afford them. And you know what I’m talking about, Hannah.”

“Oh, that.” Hannah dismissed it with a wave of her hand.

“You paid someone’s medical bill?” Delores asked her.

“Yes. Sherri Connors was really sick yesterday afternoon at the talent show orientation and I told Perry I’d pay if he took her to Doc Knight’s clinic.” Hannah turned to Doc. “Perry said it wasn’t serious.”

Doc nodded. “She’s a sweet girl and it’s a real pity, but she’ll be feeling better in a week or so.”

“Mother?” Hannah considered the best way to ask about Tim Pearson and whether Nancy had found out anything.

“Yes, dear.” Delores responded, and then she smiled. “I’ll bet you’re wondering why Nancy’s not here.”

“Right.” Hannah mentally complimented her mother for being such a good recipient of daughterly radar.

“She invited a few of the faculty over for cocktails and canapés this evening, a little gathering of department heads, now that she’s chairman of the psychology department. She said she’d give me a call later, when I got home.”

“Wonderful.”

Doc Knight turned to look at Hannah, and then he turned back to Delores. “Why do I get the feeling I’m listening to Julia Child?” he asked.

“Julia Child?” Hannah repeated, wondering what on earth the celebrated French chef had to do with it.

“She was a spy in the Second World War, and it sounds to me like you and your mother are passing secret messages right under my nose. What’s going on?”

“We’re passing messages under your nose,” Delores said, perfectly deadpan, and Doc Knight laughed so hard, he almost upset his stack of chips.

“Is this about the professor’s murder?” he asked, when he’d stopped laughing.

“Yes,” Hannah answered him.

“Well, I could take a guess on who did it, but I won’t,” Doc said, turning to Delores. “Unless your mother worms it out of me. She’s good at things like that.”

“Oh, you!” Delores said playfully. And out of the corner of her eye, she gave Hannah a clear daughter-motherly radar signal to get lost.

They’d been wandering around for about an hour, stopping to play at various games, when Norman’s cell phone rang. He took it out of his pocket, glanced at the display, and said “I’d better get this.”

“Okay,” Hannah said, waiting for him to press the right button and speak to his caller. But instead of answering the call, Norman slipped the phone back into his pocket.

“I’ll go outside to take it,” he said. “It’s pretty noisy in here. Why don’t you go play Keno until I get back? They’ve got chairs set up, and all you have to do is mark numbers on a card.”

It was pretty obvious that Norman didn’t want her to go outside with him. Hannah smiled and nodded, and then she headed back to the Keno area. She sat in a chair, reached down to rub her aching feet, and was surprised when someone tapped her on the shoulder.

“Hi, Hannah.”

Hannah turned to look and found herself staring straight into the eyes of her sister Andrea. “Hey!” she exclaimed. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“I’ve been hiding out here while Bill does the obligatory glad-hand thing,” Andrea explained. “I just couldn’t say another, Oh my, how wonderful it is to see you again!”

“But you’re so good at that.”

“Not tonight. I’m too worried about Bill’s latest offer.”

“From Tachyon?”

“Who else? It’s a brand new luxury car and it’s free. He can use it for work and for personal driving. They’re going to give him a gas card and pick up all expenses, including parking.”

“You were right. They really do want him.”

“I know. I’m just scared to death he’ll accept. The kids and I will have to move and … and …” Andrea stopped, struggling to blink back tears. “I’ll be down there in Fort Lauderdale with the bugs and the crocodiles … and you’ll have to deal with Mother all by yourself!”

“Alligators,” Hannah corrected her automatically. “And what do you mean, I’ll have to deal with Mother?”

“I mean you’ll have to …” Andrea stopped and stared at Hannah. “You didn’t see her?” she asked.

“I saw her. She was playing Blackjack with Doc Knight.”

“Well, they weren’t playing when I saw them.” Andrea stopped and frowned. “Or maybe they were playing. It all depends on how you look at it. All I know is they were sharing one of your apple turnovers the same way Lady shared that strand of spaghetti with the Tramp!”

Hannah’s eyes widened. “You mean they were actually holding it in their mouths and eating it from opposite corners?”

“No. I was just using a meta … what do you call that?”

“Metaphor?”

“Yes. I was just using a metaphor. They didn’t have it in their mouths, but they were eating bites of it with their forks. Mother was forking from one corner, and Doc was forking from the other. I … well … I didn’t stick around to see what happened when they got to the middle.”

Hannah couldn’t help it. She laughed. And that earned her a scowl from Andrea.

“I don’t think this is one bit funny,” Andrea said.

“I do.” Hannah knew she had to come up with an explanation that Andrea would accept, and she glommed onto her sister’s reference to the Disney movie. “I was thinking about Lady and the Tramp,” she explained. “I just love that scene with the spaghetti. It’s funny, but it’s so sweet … you know?”

Andrea smiled. “I do know. I feel the same way. It’s my favorite part of the movie, even better than the ending with the baby and the puppies. Tracey loves it, too.” Hannah watched as Andrea stopped speaking and began to look worried again. “What do you think we should do about Mother?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing yet. Carrie’s wedding seems to have inspired all the eligible men in Lake Eden, and Mother’s simply enjoying all the attention.”

“Then you don’t think she’s serious about Doc?”

“I don’t think so, not when I happen to know that she had dinner with Bud Hauge last night.”

“Really?”

“That’s what she said. And then they went to the talent show together.” Hannah gave her sister a reassuring smile. “I really don’t think we have to worry about Mother unless she dates the same man a couple times in a row.”

“Dates?” Andrea picked up on Hannah’s word choice. “Then you think Mother’s dating?”

From the horrified expression on Andrea’s face, Hannah knew she had to backtrack fast. “Not dating exactly,” she said. “It’s more like renewing old acquaintances with everyone she knew years ago when she went to Jordan High.”

“Oh.” Andrea looked relieved. “Well … I guess that’s all right then. It’s good to keep in touch with old friends.”

Andrea stopped speaking and nudged Hannah. “Here comes Norman and he looks upset.”

Hannah looked up. Norman was still half a basketball court away, but he did look upset. “He went outside to take a phone call. I hope it wasn’t bad news.”

Both sisters watched Norman bob and weave around stationary people. He was making good progress even though the auditorium was crowded with human obstacles. When he arrived at their sides, he gave a sigh of relief. “Why do people always stop in the middle of the aisle to talk? They do it in grocery stores, too.”

“I don’t know,” Andrea said.

“Me either,” Hannah concurred. “Just one of the peculiarities of human behavior, I guess.”

“I’m sorry that took so long,” Norman said to Hannah. And then he turned to Andrea. “I ran into Bill when I was outside. He was just leaving, and he asked me to find you and tell you he got called in.”

“Wonderful,” Andrea said in a tone that clearly said it wasn’t.

“Anyway,” Norman turned back to Hannah. “I’m afraid I have to leave. Something’s come up. Do you want me to give you a ride to The Cookie Jar to get your truck?”

Hannah shook her head. “No, I’ll stay here with Andrea for a while.”

“Okay then. Thanks for a fun evening and … I’ll probably see you tomorrow.”

Both Hannah and Andrea watched as Norman turned and headed for the exit. Once they lost sight of him in the crowd, Andrea turned to Hannah. “What was all that about?”

“I haven’t the foggiest idea. Something’s been bothering Norman ever since he came back from the Cities and he hasn’t told me what it is.”

Andrea looked concerned. “Do you think he’ll tell you?”

“I’m sure he will … eventually. But in the meantime, both of us are here without partners … right?”

“That’s right.”

“Good. Does Lake Eden Realty still handle rentals on that new apartment complex at the community college?”

“Yes. I rented a unit just the other day.”

“Is there a master key that will let you into all of the apartments?”

“Yes, but …” Andrea stopped and stared at Hannah in disbelief. “You want me to let you into Bradford Ramsey’s apartment?!”

“Bingo,” Hannah said. And smiled.

Chepter Twenty

“I shouldn’t be doing this,” Andrea whispered as the elevator doors opened and they stepped in.

“Would you rather wait in the truck?” Hannah asked. “No. Bill told me he was a real ladies’ man. Is that true?”

“That’s what I heard,” Hannah replied, hoping Andrea didn’t ask her for details.

“Well, I want to see if he’s got one of those bachelor pads you read about in magazines, the ones with the round beds, and the mirrors on the ceiling, and fur bedspreads.”

Hannah was about to laugh when she remembered Bradford’s old apartment. There had been a fake fur bedspread.

The hallway was deserted, and the two sisters walked quickly to Bradford’s door. Andrea used the master key and pushed the door open. “Flashlights?” she asked, once they’d both stepped inside.

“Yes,” Hannah said, after one glance at the living room window. It faced a wooded area, but there was a patio with tables and chairs next to the building. Any resident who stepped out on the patio could see the lights and they’d wonder why someone was in Bradford’s apartment on the night after his death. “Let me close the drapes before we turn them on.”

The moon shining in the large window made hulking shapes of the furniture. Hannah made her way cautiously past a large leather armchair and stepped around the corner of a massive wooden coffee table. It would be worse than embarrassing if she broke her ankle by stumbling over furniture in a place they weren’t authorized to enter. She’d tried to think of some excuse in case someone happened to catch them, but nothing seemed plausible. No one would believe that the sheriff’s wife was showing her older sister the apartment because Hannah thought she knew someone who might want to rent it.

After a close encounter with a leather-covered hassock, Hannah made it to the window and drew the drapes. “Okay,” she whispered. “You can turn on your flashlight.”

There was an audible click in the stillness and Andrea’s flashlight sent out a beam of yellow light. A split second later, Hannah’s did the same.

“Where shall we start?” Andrea asked. “And what are we looking for, anyway?”

“I’ll know it when I see it. Just point out anything that looks out of place.”

They started in the kitchen, a room so small Hannah would have called it a kitchenette. “If you were listing this place, what would you say about the kitchen?” she asked Andrea.

“I’d call it a cozy dream of a kitchen,” Andrea said.

“In real-estate-speak, cozy means small?”

“That’s right. And spacious means medium-sized.”

Andrea started with the refrigerator while Hannah checked the cupboards. It was quickly evident that Bradford Ramsey hadn’t done much cooking since food supplies were almost nonexistent. Hannah found a box of crackers, several cans of soup, two boxes of natural grain, heart-healthy cereal, and a jar of instant coffee. “Anything?” she asked, turning to her sister.

“Not really.” Andrea shut the refrigerator door. “A dozen eggs, milk with an expired date, and some dried-out cheddar cheese.”

The living room was next, and it yielded equally unsatisfying results. There was nothing but dust under the cushions of the couch and chair, and only books on the bookshelf. It was surprising how little evidence there was to indicate that a living, breathing, human being had called this home.

Hannah left Andrea to go through the second bookcase and went ahead to the bathroom. There wasn’t much to look at in the shower besides a bar of soap and a razor. The medicine cabinet didn’t yield much either, only a bottle of Pepto Bismol and a half-empty tin of throat lozenges. If Bradford had been dealing illicit drugs for extra cash, he certainly hadn’t stashed any in his medicine cabinet!

After the obligatory peek into the watery depths of the toilet tank simply because she’d once seen it in a movie, Hannah emerged from the room frowning. There was a matching frown on Andrea’s face. So far their search had been fruitless.

“The bedroom?” Andrea whispered.

“Yes. I’ll go in first and check out the windows.”

When Hannah entered the bedroom, she saw that the curtains were already drawn. She parted them enough to look out and realized the reason they’d been closed. The window looked out on an ivy-covered brick wall that formed the side of the hallway leading to the indoor spa and swimming pool. The only view was of the wall, and although Bradford had probably kept the curtains open during the day for the sunlight that would shine in, it made sense to close them at night rather than look out at the darkness.

“If you shut the door, you can turn on the lights in here,” Hannah said, motioning Andrea into the room. This window faces a blank wall.”

Andrea flicked the wall switch and a large lamp on the dresser turned on. Hannah walked over to turn on the other two lamps, one on either side of the bed, and then she turned to find Andrea just staring at the room.

“What’s the matter?” Hannah asked her.

“It’s just a bedroom.”

“You sound disappointed.”

“I am. I thought it would be more … exciting.”

Hannah was amused, but she didn’t dare show it. There were times when Andrea wasn’t very worldly, but that could be because she’d married Bill right out of high school and she’d never left Lake Eden for any length of time.

“Let’s see what we can find,” Hannah directed. “Why don’t you start with his dresser drawers.”

“Ooh! I love to go through people’s drawers. You never know what secrets you’ll find.”

Hannah laughed. Perhaps Andrea would find something. People did hide things in dresser drawers. “Have fun. While you’re doing that, I’ll check the closet.”

It was an eerie feeling going through a dead man’s clothing, especially a dead man you’d known. Hannah checked the upper shelf, but nothing was there. And the only thing on the floor was a large shoe tree with pairs of shoes neatly arranged on its tubular holders. The clothes were neatly hung on hangers, and there was nothing of interest that she could see.

“Hannah?” Andrea called her softly from the bedroom.

“Yes?”

“Come out here quick! I think I found something!”

Hannah hurried out of the closet. She found Andrea sitting on the edge of Bradford’s bed holding something that glittered brightly in her hand. “What is it?”

“An earring. I think it’s sapphire with diamonds all around it. It’s not costume jewelry. I know the real thing when I see it.”

Hannah looked down at the earring that rested on her sister’s palm. “Where was it?” she asked.

“On the floor behind the headboard. I got down on the rug to look under the bed and I spotted it. Have you ever seen anything like it before?”

Hannah drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Yes,” she said. “I have.”

“Who do you think … what’s that?!” Andrea grabbed Hannah’s arm and pointed toward the living room.

There was a swishing sound as the outside door opened, and a click as it shut again. Someone had come into Bradford’s apartment!

“Quick! Under the bed!” Andrea whispered, but Hannah grabbed her arm and pulled her the other way.

“The closet,” she whispered, opening the door and shoving Andrea inside. A second later, she joined her sister in the walk-in closet and not a moment too soon, for they heard footfalls on the carpet coming toward the bedroom.

“The earring,” Andrea breathed, passing it to Hannah in a rush, almost like they’d done in the games of Hot Potato they used to play with their grandparents. The only difference was that this time there wasn’t any music … only the sound of someone walking into the bedroom and stopping by the bed.

The door to the closet was louvered and Hannah moved to a better position. She could barely make out a woman bent over at the waist, peering under the bed. She might not have known who it was if she hadn’t seen that outfit earlier.

“Can you see who it is?” Andrea whispered, close to Hannah’s ear.

“Stephanie Bascomb. Take a deep breath and stay right here. I’m going out to confront the first lady of Lake Eden.”

There was an audible gasp from Andrea, but Hannah didn’t worry about that. As Stephanie straightened up and whirled to face the closet, Hannah pushed the door open and stepped out, shutting it behind her so that Andrea would remain hidden.

“Hannah!” Stephanie exclaimed, her hand fluttering toward her throat. “What are you doing here?”

Hannah didn’t bother to answer. She just crossed the floor to Stephanie and held out her hand. Then she opened it so Stephanie could see the earring. “Looking for this?” she asked.

“Yes! But it’s not what you think. I lost it on Monday afternoon when Bradford and I met to discuss the talent show.”

Hannah raised her eyebrows. “Really?”

“We had to work out the order of the contestants, and how long he should speak, and things like that.”

Hannah had the urge to ask Stephanie how her earring had gotten into the bedroom if all they’d done was discuss the talent show, but she didn’t. It really wasn’t any business of hers.

“So …” Stephanie stopped and swallowed with difficulty. “Could I please have my earring now?”

“Of course.” Hannah waited until she visibly relaxed before she threw in the condition she’d decided should be invoked. “But first you have to tell me where you were between the time the curtain went down after the first act on Wednesday night and the time the police went backstage.”

Stephanie’s mouth dropped open. “Surely you don’t think that I would ever …”

“No, I don’t think you did,” Hannah interrupted her. “But I still need to know exactly where you were during intermission.”

Stephanie thought for a second. “I left my seat with Richard and we walked back to the lobby. We stood in line for coffee and turnovers, and then we joined Stan and Lolly Kramer, and Al and Sally Percy. They’re some of our biggest supporters, you know.”

“Were you with them until the gong sounded to signal the end of intermission?”

“Heavens, no! Richard and I made the rounds. We talked to your mother and Bud Hauge.” Stephanie paused and frowned slightly. “She’s not really interested in him … is she?”

“Bud’s an old friend, I think.”

“That’s what I thought, since I saw her with Doc Knight at the Blackjack table tonight. He’s a much better catch.”

“I don’t think Mother is looking to catch anything other than a good night’s sleep. Let’s get back to Wednesday night. Did you talk to anyone after you left Mother and Bud?”

“Hal and Rose MacDermott. And after we left them, we talked to Howie and Kitty Levine. Then we went on to George and Pam Baxter, Eleanor and Otis Cox, and Lorna Kusak.”

“Who else?”

“That was it. The gong rang and we went back in to sit down.”

“And you sat there with Mayor Bascomb until the authorities came?”

“That’s right. I never left my seat.” Stephanie gave an exasperated sigh. “Could I please have my earring back now?”

“Certainly.” Hannah held out her hand and Stephanie snatched up the earring. “By the way … how did you get into Bradford’s apartment tonight?”

“I still had his key.”

“You still had his key?”

The color fled from Stephanie’s face. She knew she’d incriminated herself, and Hannah could almost see the wheels turning in her mind, looking for the perfect excuse. “That’s right. He gave me his extra key,” she said. “I told him I thought I’d lost my earring in his apartment, and he told me to drive out and get it after the talent show was over. He said he was going out with friends and he wouldn’t be back until late.”

Quick thinking, Hannah thought. I almost believe you. But all she said was, “I see.”

“Well … if there’s nothing else …” Stephanie took two steps toward the door, but then she turned. “I hope you won’t mention this to anyone.”

“I won’t,” Hannah said. And then when Stephanie had made a quick exit from the bedroom, she added under her breath, “Not if your alibi checks out.”

“I was so scared, I could barely breathe,” Andrea confided as they walked down the hallway and took the elevator to the ground floor. “I thought for sure she’d seen me.”

“When I came out of the closet, she was too shocked to look for anyone else. And I blocked the doorway with my body until I’d shut the door.”

“Thanks!”

“You’re welcome. I didn’t think the sheriff’s wife should be seen skulking around in a murder victim’s apartment.”

“You’re right. Especially by the mayor’s wife!” Andrea began to frown. “I wonder why she didn’t ask why you were there.”

“She was so busy trying to cover her you-know-what, she probably didn’t even think of it.”

They walked out the door in silence and hurried to the parking lot, where Hannah had parked her cookie truck. Once they’d climbed in, Andrea turned to her sister. “That was a little too close for comfort. My heart’s beating a hundred miles a minute.”

“Hold on a second.” Hannah got out of the truck and went around the back. When she came back, she was carrying a paper plate filled with cookies.

“For me?” Andrea asked when Hannah handed them to her.

“For you. I was going to give them to Norman as a thank you for taking me to Casino Night, but then he got that phone call and he left so fast, I forgot.”

“Norman’s loss, my gain.” Andrea glanced down at the cookies and smiled. “What kind are they?”

“They’re Sun Moon Cookies. Have you ever heard anyone call the sun a big orange ball in the sky?”

“Yes, I have.”

“These are orange-flavored sugar cookies. That’s to remind you of the sun. After they’re baked, half of each cookie is dipped in chocolate.”

“So it’s dark like it is when the moon shines at night?”

“Exactly right. Try one and see how you like them.”

Hannah started the truck and drove down the hill from the college as Andrea peeled off the plastic wrap covering the cookie plate. She took a cookie and held it up. “I suppose I should start with the sun part,” she said.

“Whatever. It’s your cookie.”

Andrea took a bite of the white part of the cookie and made a little sound of enjoyment. “I love the way your sugar cookies crunch,” she said. “And the orange is wonderful. It’s very refreshing.”

“Try the chocolate part next,” Hannah urged her.

Andrea turned the cookie around and took a bite. She chewed and gave a little groan of enjoyment that was louder than the preceding one. “The moon part is just great!” she exclaimed. “These are wonderful cookies, Hannah!”

“Thanks.” Hannah turned at the base of the hill to follow the access road that led to the highway. “Do you think we should sell these at The Cookie Jar?”

“Definitely! I think they’re one of your best cookies.”

“We’ll have to charge the same as we do for frosted cookies.”

“People won’t mind that once they taste them. I’ll think I’ll try the sunset next.”

“The sunset?”

Andrea chuckled. “That’s what I’m calling the part of the cookie that’s halfway between the moon and the sun. I’m going to take a bite right where the chocolate part meets the white part.”

“Okay …” Hannah said, hiding a grin. It was pretty clear that the chocolate had put her sister in a playful mood, or perhaps it was just relief at getting out of a potentially damaging situation. If she had to choose, Hannah would bet on the chocolate.

“Perfect!” Andrea exclaimed once she’d taken a bite and swallowed. “Sunset is very tasty.”

“How about sunrise?” Hannah asked, deciding to get into the spirit of things.

Andrea laughed. “I’ll just have to find out, won’t I?”

There was a crunch as Andrea took a huge bite on the other side of the cookie. “I’d say sunrise is equal in goodness to sunset.”

“Glad to hear it,” Hannah said, stepping on the gas as she merged onto the highway.

“Bill’s just going to love these.” Andrea glanced down at the cookies on her lap. “And so will Tracey, and Bethie, and Grandma McCann.” She reached down to open the plastic wrap again and took out another cookie. “If there’s any left by the time I get home, that is.”

SUN MOON COOKIES

DO NOT preheat oven. Dough must chill before baking.

2 cups melted butter (4 sticks, one pound)

2 cups powdered sugar (not sifted)

1 cup white (granulated) sugar

2 eggs

2 teaspoons orange extract

1 teaspoon orange zest

1 teaspoon baking soda

1 teaspoon cream of tartar (critical!)

1 teaspoon salt

4¼ cups flour (not sifted—just scoop it up and level it off with a knife.)

½ cup white sugar in a small bowl (for later)

Melt the butter in a microwave-safe bowl in the microwave for 3 minutes on HIGH.

Add the sugars to the melted butter and mix. Let the mixture cool to room temperature on the counter.

When it’s not so hot it’ll cook the eggs, mix them in, one at a time, stirring well after each addition.

Add the orange extract, orange zest, baking soda, cream of tartar, and salt. Mix well.

Add the flour in half-cup increments, mixing after each addition. (You don’t have to be exact about measuring—just guesstimate—it won’t come out even anyway.)

Chill the dough for at least one hour. (Overnight is fine.)

Preheat your oven to 325 degrees F. and place the rack in the middle of the oven.

Use your hands to roll the dough in one-inch balls. Roll the dough balls in a bowl containing the last half-cup of white sugar.

Place the dough balls on a greased cookie sheet, 12 to a standard-size sheet. Flatten the dough balls with a greased spatula (or the palm of your impeccably clean hand).

Bake at 325 degrees F. for 10 to 15 minutes. (They should have a tinge of gold on the top.) Cool on the cookie sheet for 2 minutes, then remove them to a rack to finish cooling.

When the cookies are completely cool, prepare them for dipping by laying out sheets of waxed paper on your counter, enough to hold all the cookies you baked.

Make the Chocolate Dip.

Chocolate Dip:

2 cups chocolate chips (12 ounces)

1 stick butter (½ cup, ¼ pound)

Melt the chips and the butter in a microwave-safe bowl on HIGH for 90 seconds. Stir to make sure the chips are melted. If they’re not, heat in 20-second increments until you can stir them smooth.

Dip the cookies, one by one, so that half of the cookie is chocolate coated. (The half you hold will not be chocolate coated, naturally!) Place them back on the wax paper to dry.

Yield: Approximately 10 dozen (depending on cookie size) pretty and tasty cookies. Yum!

Chapter Twenty-One

It was almost ten by the time Hannah and Andrea got back from the college. “Back to Casino Night?” Hannah asked. “Or would you rather go home?”

Andrea glanced down at the cookies in her lap. “Home,” she said. “I’ve got four cookies left and that’s just enough for the family.”

Hannah bit back a startled burst of laughter. There had been a dozen cookies on the plate when she’d handed it to Andrea, and her sister had eaten two-thirds of them.

Andrea and Bill lived only a few blocks from the school, and after Hannah had dropped off her sister, she took a run past the school parking lot. She drove up and down the rows, but Doc Knight’s vehicle was gone. She also kept a sharp eye out for her mother’s sedan, since Delores could have met Doc Knight at the school, but that wasn’t parked in any of the spots, either.

Should she call her mother, or shouldn’t she? That was the question. Hannah debated it for all of ten seconds before she decided to drive past her mother’s house to assess the situation.

There weren’t that many variables. It had been years since she’d taken a logic class, but Hannah was fairly confident that she could come up with all the possibilities. If Doc Knight’s vehicle was parked outside on the street, it meant one of two things … either he was inside with De-lores after driving her home from Casino Night, or he had parked there earlier and they had taken her mother’s sedan. One glance in the window of the garage would tell her if this was the case. And if her mother’s car was gone, Hannah would know that Delores had driven somewhere with Doc and no one was home.

Not bad, the logical part of her mind praised her. Now what if Doc Knight’s vehicle is gone and your mother’s car is in the garage?

“I’ll go in because she’s there alone … unless, of course, the lights are off,” Hannah answered aloud, feeling a bit silly to be talking to herself. “That means she went to bed and I wouldn’t want to wake her.”

Very good! the logical part of her mind said. And what will you do then?

“I’ll drive home and call her in the morning. I can wait a few hours to find out what Nancy knows about the assistant professorship at the college English department.”

The logic problem had occupied her through most of the trip. Hannah turned the corner and drove down her mother’s street. It was deserted. Doc Knight’s vehicle wasn’t there, but the lights were on.

Check the garage, Hannah’s logical mind insisted. It’s possible she left the lights on and they went somewhere else together after they left the school.

“I understand. But since Doc’s car isn’t there, I can just ring the doorbell,” Hannah argued. “If nobody’s home, nobody will answer.”

True, but you’re going to be really embarrassed if Doc Knight didn’t use his car at all. Say your mother picked him up at the hospital and she hasn’t taken him back yet. They could be in there engaging in activities that you don’t really want to …

“I don’t want to hear it!” Hannah yelled, getting out of the truck and into the muggy heat of the summer night. The mosquitoes found her almost immediately, descending like a hungry cloud on her bare arm. Why hadn’t she worn mosquito repellent?

Several slaps and two brushes with the palm of her hand, and she arrived at the door. Her finger was poised to ring the bell, when her logical mind spoke again.

You’re not thinking this through, Hannah. Doc could be there with your mother. What if they’re on the couch, and …

“Shut up!” Hannah yelled. But before she could press the doorbell, the porch light went on, and the door opened.

“Hannah?’ Delores stared at her daughter in complete confusion. “Who are you talking to?”

“No one, Mother.”

“But I heard you tell someone to be quiet.”

Hannah smiled. Delores wouldn’t use the phrase shut up even to repeat what her daughter had actually said. There was no way she wanted to tell her mother that she’d been having an argument with herself, so she settled for the first excuse that popped into her mind. “I was just talking on my cell phone.”

“And you told the person on the other end of the line to … to be quiet?”

“Yes. It was a telemarketer. Is it okay if I come in for a couple of minutes?”

“Of course.” Delores stepped back so Hannah could enter, and then she led her into the living room. “Would you like coffee?” she asked.

“Only if it’s made.”

“It is. Doc just left a few minutes ago and I still have half a pot. Just sit for a minute and I’ll get it.”

Hannah sat. And then she had a completely silent, no-holds-barred conversation with her logical mind. By the time Delores came in with a tray from the kitchen, Hannah had thoroughly cowed the logical part of her brain and elicited a promise never to interfere in her life again … unless she called on it, of course.

“Have a cookie, dear,” Delores said, serving Hannah’s coffee and cookie. “Florence is carrying a new brand at the Red Owl and I think they’re better than the cookies I used to buy.”

“They look good,” Hannah said, looking down at the perfectly round, perfectly baked cookie. “Oatmeal-cranberry?”

“Yes, but with coconut. They’re nice and moist, and chewy. You don’t make anything like that, do you, dear?”

“No.” Hannah took a sip of her coffee. It was time to address the reason she’d come to her mother’s house. “Did Nancy call you?”

“Yes, and I’m afraid it’s bad news for poor Mr. Pearson.”

“He didn’t get the job?”

“No, dear. Nancy talked to John Sidwell. He’s the head of the English department. He was quite forthcoming when she asked him about the meeting of the selection committee.”

Hannah took another sip of her coffee. It wasn’t very good and she made a mental note to get her mother some from the Cookie Jar. “What did Professor Sidwell tell Nancy about it?”

“He said he was upset at the way things had gone, because the other four members of the committee were swayed by Professor Ramsey’s recommendation.”

“But I thought he was recommending Tim Pearson.”

“That’s what John thought, but Professor Ramsey changed his mind at the last minute. He told the committee that he’d found a much better candidate and that he thought they should hire his other research assistant, Tiffany Barkley.”

Let me guess, Hannah thought. Tiffany Barkley is young, gorgeous, and willing to get personal with her boss. “So they hired Tiffany instead of Tim?” Hannah asked.

“That’s right. Professor Sidwell was the only one to vote for Mr. Pearson. Nancy said he was really upset. He told her that he thought the committee had been swayed entirely by Professor Ramsey’s recommendation, and he didn’t think that recommendation was based entirely on academic qualifications.”

“I understand,” Hannah said. It was clear to her that Professor Sidwell had known Bradford quite well.

“Try the cookie, dear. Tell me what you think.”

Hannah took another swallow of coffee and bit into the cookie. It wasn’t wonderful, but she did admire the texture. The oatmeal cranberry cookies they baked at The Cookie Jar were crisp and they didn’t have coconut. This cookie was soft. Perhaps their customers would like a cookie with a texture like this.

“I like the texture a lot,” she said. “I think I’ll try to make something that’s as soft and chewy as this.”

“Wonderful! I’ll be happy to taste test them for you. Will you try to bake them tonight?”

“Perhaps,” Hannah said. She’d gotten very little sleep, but she wasn’t all that tired.

“Nancy told me that the results of the selection committee were made public late Wednesday afternoon,” De-lores said, answering the question Hannah had been about to ask. “Professor Sidwell told Nancy that he called Mr. Pearson personally to give him the news and tell him that he didn’t agree with the decision of the committee.”

“Did he tell Tim that Professor Ramsey had changed his mind and recommended Tiffany Barkley for the job?”

“Yes. Nancy mentioned that specifically.” Delores took a sip of coffee and looked at Hannah over the rim of the cup. “Does this help, dear?”

“Very much, Mother.”

“Does this mean that Mr. Pearson is a suspect in Professor Ramsey’s murder?”

“Oh, yes.” Hannah took her steno pad out of her purse and retrieved a pen from the outside pocket. She made a note, and then she looked up at her mother. “Is it all right if I call Nancy to see if she has any other information?”

“Of course, dear. I suggested that myself. Nancy’s perfectly willing to speak to you about anything at all.”

“I have only one other question, Mother. It’s important.”

“Ask away, dear.”

“Did you see Stephanie Bascomb during the intermission of the talent show?”

Delores looked a bit startled at the question. “Why yes, I did. She came over to talk to us for a minute or two. She was very interested in the grave art that Bud just installed on the outside of the Henderson tomb. As a matter of fact, she asked him if he could make a metal sculpture of an open book for her.”

“You mean for her family’s mausoleum?”

“No, for the community library. She thought it would make a nice decoration.”

“Did you happen to notice if she stayed in the lobby for the entire intermission?”

“Yes, I did. Her outfit was so striking, I couldn’t help but glance at her every few minutes. It was a white lace suit and she looked marvelous. I asked her about it, and she said it was entirely handmade. I’m sure it must have cost a fortune!”

“Thank you, Mother,” Hannah said, now convinced that Stephanie had told them the truth. There was no way a clotheshorse like Stephanie Bascomb would stab Bradford while she was wearing an expensive white lace suit!

“Why did you want to know about Stephanie, dear?”

“I just needed to check her alibi.”

“Her … alibi? Then you must think she had some reason to kill Professor Ramsey! And the only reason I can think of that would make her do something like this is …” Delores gave a little chuckle. “Never mind, dear. I get the picture. Ricky-Ticky’s had his share of flirtations and I can’t say I blame Stephanie one bit.”

It was almost eleven by the time Hannah unlocked the door to her condo. Even though it was late, Moishe hurtled into her arms and she nuzzled him as she carried him in to the couch and gave him a salmon-shaped treat.

“Oh, good. You’re home,” Michelle said, coming out of the kitchen. “Do you want some coffee?”

“Not really. I just had some at Mother’s.”

“That can turn you off coffee for life!” Michelle laughed, and then she must have realized what Hannah said because she asked, “What were you doing at Mother’s?”

“Finding out about your friend Tim Pearson. He didn’t get the job.”

“Oh, no! Does he know?”

“Professor Sidwell from the English department called to tell him on Wednesday afternoon. Bradford didn’t keep his promise about the recommendation.”

“That’s just awful, Hannah! Tim really wanted that job. He was going to get married this fall and Judy was already looking for a job here. I just don’t understand why Bradford didn’t recommend Tim when he said he would.”

“Professor Sidwell said he changed his mind and recommended Tiffany Barkley instead.”

Michelle looked dazed. “That’s ridiculous! Tiffany doesn’t have even half the qualifications that Tim does. I’ll bet Tim was steaming when he heard that, especially after he did all that work. He probably wanted to strangle Bradford.”

Hannah watched as Michelle’s mind replayed her own words, and their effect was reflected on her face. “No! I refuse to believe it!” she said. “He might have wanted to and I can’t blame him, but there’s no way Tim would actually kill Bradford!”

Hannah just sat there, waiting for Michelle to calm down. It took a minute or two before her breathing returned to normal and she leaned back in her chair again.

“You need to know where he was on Wednesday night … right?” Michelle asked.

“That would be helpful.”

“Okay, I’ll find out. But I’m almost certain that Tim didn’t have anything to do with it.”

Hannah took the steno pad that she used as a murder book out of her purse and flipped to the suspect page. “I’ll write your initials next to Tim’s name,” she said. “That means you’re going to investigate his alibi if he has one.”

“Right.” Michelle leaned closer as Hannah wrote the name of another suspect on her list. “Stephanie Bascomb?” she asked.

“Yes.” Hannah added her own initials next to Stephanie’s name. And then she crossed Stephanie off her list.

“Why did you cross her off?” Michelle asked.

“Her alibi checks out. Mother saw her in the lobby during the talent show intermission.”

“But … why did you write her down in the first place if you were going to just cross her out?”

“So I could feel as if I accomplished something tonight.”

Michelle gave a little laugh. “I must be tired, because that makes perfect sense to me.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Hannah had just said goodnight to Michelle and was heading down the hall toward her bedroom when the phone rang. She glanced at her watch. It was ten past eleven. No one who knew her schedule would call her this late. That meant it was an emergency, a telemarketer working much too late, or a wrong number. She thought about letting the answer machine get it, but her curiosity won out. It could be important. Maybe.

She leaned over the back of the couch to reach the phone and plucked it from its cradle. “Hello?” she said, petting Moishe with her free hand.

“I didn’t wake you, did I, Hannah?”

It was Norman and Hannah had half a notion to hang up. He’d left her high and dry at Casino Night. But perhaps his cell phone summons had been a dental emergency. Right now, as she sprawled over the back of the couch holding the phone with the cord that was far too short and petting a cat who was purring louder than an outboard motor, some Lake Edenite with a numbed mouth had been relieved of his pain from a tooth that had broken off in an auto accident. “It’s okay. I’m still up,” she said.

“Good. I wasn’t sure if I should call, but I decided that I could leave the information on the answer machine if you didn’t pick up.”

“What information?”

“The name of the student that Professor Ramsey flunked. There was only one, and it was spectacular. A second-year student named Kyle Williamson flunked out of his Introduction to Poetry class.”

“Hold on,” Hannah said, setting the phone back down on the end table and walking around the couch to sit down and pick it up again. “What made this student’s failure so spectacular?”

“He got three percent correct on the midterm, and two percent on the final. His poetry project was late, and it received a “U” for “unsatisfactory.” There was also a note in his file that said he cut over three-quarters of the class sessions.”

“That is spectacular,” Hannah agreed. “Is this student still in school?”

“Yes. He’s got a three-point eight grade average. Professor Ramsey’s course is the only one he hasn’t completely aced.”

“But why? I mean … was there some sort of personal issue?”

“I don’t know, but I think we ought to find out. Do you want me to go out to the college tomorrow and talk to him?”

“That would be great. Do you think you can get him to tell you where he was on Wednesday night?”

“I’ll try. I’m really curious about him, especially since this sort of thing didn’t happen in any of his other classes. I want to find out what Professor Ramsey did or said to turn him off so completely.”

“Do you want me to go with you?”

There was a long silence before Norman spoke again. “I think I might do better alone. From what I’ve read of his academic records and college application, he sounds like a loner. I can identify with that. You don’t mind if I go by myself, do you?”

“No. Of course not,” Hannah said. “Good luck tomorrow, and let me know what you find out.”

“You’ll be the first to know.” There was another long silence, and then Norman cleared his throat. When he spoke again, his voice was husky. “Goodnight, Hannah. I do love you, you know.”

“I know,” Hannah said And then she hung up the phone. But she didn’t know, not really.

“Norman?” Michelle asked, coming into the living room in her robe and slippers.

“Yes. He’s going to go out and interview a student who flunked out of Bradford’s Introduction to Poetry class.”

“But Bradford never flunked anyone.” Michelle looked puzzled. “He was very proud of that fact. He said that poetry should be accessible to everyone and it was a reflection on him if any of his students didn’t develop an appreciation for the genre by the end of his introductory course.”

“Well, this student flunked,” Hannah said. “Norman looked up his grades on the computer.”

“What’s his name?”

“Kyle Williamson.”

Michelle sat down on the couch next to Hannah. “Kyle Williamson. That’s vaguely familiar, but I’m not sure why.”

“Norman’s going out to talk to him tomorrow. Maybe he’ll come back with something that’ll jog your mem …” Hannah stopped speaking as the phone rang again.

“Do you want me to get it?” Michelle asked.

“I’m closer,” Hannah said, reaching out for the receiver. “Hello?”

“Hi, Hannah.”

It was Mike. Hannah gave a fleeting thought to other women and how they seemed to receive calls at normal hours of the day and night. Someday, when she had a few minutes, she’d have to figure out why her boyfriends always called her in the hour before and the hour after the witching hour. “Hi, Mike,” she said, deciding not to address the issue right now.

“Will you be up for another forty-five minutes or so? I’m driving back from Fergus Falls, and I should be there by midnight. I just met with Professor Ramsey’s first wife and I wanted to run a couple of things past you.”

“I’ll put the coffee on,” Hannah said, not even considering the option of refusal. For the first time since they’d met, over two years ago, they were fairly close to working together. She wasn’t about to throw a wrench into the works.

“Let me guess,” Michelle said, after Hannah had hung up the phone. “Mike’s coming over.”

“Right. You can go to bed if you want to. I had a nap at the shop today, so I’m fine.”

“So am I. I had sleep instead of food during my lunch hour. Mother’s got a great four-poster up on the second floor and it’s very comfortable. I just hope she doesn’t sell it before we catch Bradford’s killer.”

“We’re narrowing the field,” Hannah told her. “When Mother cleared Stephanie Bascomb, she cleared the mayor, too. They were together all through intermission, and they sat together when they went back inside the auditorium.”

“I didn’t know the mayor was a suspect!”

“Of course he was. Even though Stephanie insisted her relationship with Bradford was all business, the mayor must have noticed that his wife was spending quite a bit of time at the college.”

“But maybe he assumed it was payback time, and he was okay with that.”

Hannah shook her head. “Not a chance! The mayor’s very territorial. What’s good for the gander is definitely not good for the goose.”

“That’s not exactly fair,” Michelle pointed out.

“Who said life was fair?”

“No one, I guess.” Michelle looked thoughtful. “If you suspected the mayor, why didn’t you write his name on your suspect list?”

“Because I’m saving him for tomorrow. That way I can get up in the morning and write him down when I have my first cup of coffee. And then I can cross him out before I leave for work. That means I’ve accomplished something before I even leave the house.”

“Neat trick,” Michelle complimented her. “The next time I make out a To Do list, I’m going to write down something I’ve already done so I can cross it out and feel good.”

“That’s my girl!” Hannah said.

Michelle laughed and got up, heading down the hall toward the guest room. But before she got there, she turned back.

“Don’t bother setting your alarm,” she told Hannah. “Lisa said you should sleep in tomorrow morning. Herb’s got an early meeting with Mayor Bascomb, and she’s going to work early with Marge and Patsy. They’re going to take care of everything so that you can concentrate on the murder case.”

“That is so sweet,” Hannah said, and she meant every word of it. “Just when I think there aren’t enough hours in the day, Lisa takes over the work and I’ve got more time for other things. Do you know anything about Herb’s meeting with the mayor?”

“Yes. Lisa and I talked about it and had a good laugh. You know about Lover’s Lane, don’t you?”

“Yes, if you’re talking about the gravel road by the apple orchard just outside the city limits.”

“That’s it. Well, ever since Mayor Bascomb asked Herb to start patrolling there, the high school students have stopped using it as a parking spot. Herb found out that they’re all going to Spring Brook Cemetery now and parking on that winding road that divides the old cemetery from the new cemetery. The mayor figures it’s only a matter of time before they start getting out of their cars and spreading out blankets by the brook, and … well, you know. So Herb and the mayor are working out a schedule for him to patrol there.”

“They’re teenagers who want to be alone. If Herb patrols their new spot, they’ll just go somewhere else.”

“You know that, I know that, Lisa knows that, and Herb knows that. But Mayor Bascomb seems to have forgotten.”

Hannah bit her tongue. She knew the mayor occasionally frequented the Blue Moon Motel outside of town and no longer needed the dubious comfort of a blanket and a warm night, or the darkened interior of a second-hand car. “I’d better heat the oven,” she said.

“You’re going to bake?”

“Yes, but not cookies. Mike probably didn’t have time to stop for anything to eat and I’ll put in a Too Easy Hot-dish.”

“A what?”

“Too Easy Hotdish. My friend, Mary Blain, used to make it in college. It’s the kind of thing you can throw together with whatever you have in the refrigerator.”

“I’ll turn on the oven.” Michelle walked into the kitchen, with Hannah following close behind. “What temperature do you want?”

“I need a hot oven. Make it four hundred.”

Michelle turned on the oven and set the temperature. “I’ll help you get it in the oven before I go to bed. What do you want me to do”

“Spray my cake pan with Pam. Then look in the freezer and see if I have a package of Tater Tots. If I don’t, any kind of frozen potato will do.”

While Michelle prepared the pan and checked the freezer, Hannah went to the pantry and took out a can of cream of mushroom soup and one of cream of celery soup. She carried them to the counter where Michelle had placed the package of potato nuggets. “Is there any meat in the refrigerator?” she asked. “I could probably make this with canned tuna or canned chicken, but I think fresh meat would be better.”

“Here’s a pound of hamburger,” Michelle said, her voice muffled since her head was in the refrigerator. “And I’ve got some sausage left from those pancakes I made.”

“That’ll be perfect. I need about a pound and a half. Did you have any leftover shredded cheese?”

“Right here. I’ll bring it.”

The two sisters worked quickly, layering everything evenly in the cake pan. Less than five minutes had passed when Hannah slipped the pan into the oven.

“How long does it bake?” Michelle asked her.

“Thirty-five to forty minutes, just until the potatoes are crisp.”

“I can see why your friend called it Too Easy Hotdish.”

“We finished just in time. There’s Mike,” Hannah said, reacting to Moishe’s sudden dash toward the front door.

“How can you tell? The doorbell didn’t ring.”

“It’s my early cat warning,” Hannah explained. “The doorbell should ring right about …” But she didn’t get a chance to finish her sentence because she was interrupted by the peal of the doorbell.

“I’ll go let him in,” Michelle said, heading for the door. “You get his coffee. I’m just going to say hello, and then I’m going straight to bed.”

TOO EASY HOTDISH

Preheat oven to 400 degrees F., rack in the middle position.

1 and ½ pounds lean ground meat (you can use hamburger, pork, chicken, turkey, lean sausage, or venison—any ground meat will do—or you can use any leftover meat cut up in bite-size pieces)

2 cans (12-ounce) condensed cream of almost anything soup (I usually use cream of celery, or mushroom, or chicken, or any combination—I’m not sure I’d use asparagus, but it might be good)

1-pound package frozen potato nuggets (I used TaterTots)

1 cup shredded cheese (I used cheddar, but other cheeses are also good)

Hannah’s 1st Note: You can put in a thin layer of chopped onions, or a thin layer of vegetables cut in small pieces. Just don’t add too many things or the potatoes and cheese on top will burn before the inside gets done.

Spray a 9-inch by 13-inch cake pan with Pam or another nonstick cooking spray.

Put the ground meat in the bottom of the pan, spreading it out as evenly as you can. Press it down with your clean hands, or use the back of a metal spatula. (The fat does not drain out of this hotdish and that’s why you should use lean ground meat.)

Spoon the 2 cans of cream-of-whatever soup on top of the meat. Using a rubber spatula, spread the condensed soup over the meat as evenly as possible.

Put the frozen potato nuggets on top of the soup in a single layer. (I’ve substituted hash browns or potatoes O’Brien when I didn’t have Tater Tots in my freezer.)

Spread them out as evenly as you can.

Sprinkle on the shredded cheese to top the potatoes.

Hannah’s 2nd Note: Mary’s recipe is so easy, it’s almost impossible to get it wrong unless you use too much cheese. It’s a case of twice as much cheese is NOT twice as good.Too much melted cheese may act as an insulator, just like the insulation in your attic keeps out the cold Minnesota air in the winter. In this case, it could have the opposite effect. The cheese, when it melts, will spread out like insulation on top of the potatoes and keep the heat of the oven away from your Too Easy Hotdish. (I know. I made that mistake.)

DO NOT COVER your hotdish with anything. Just slip the pan in the oven at 400 degrees F. and bake it for 35 to 40 minutes, or until the potatoes on top are browned and crispy. (If you used a glass cake pan, it may bake a little faster.)

Hannah’s 3rd Note: You may have noticed that this hotdish uses no additional seasonings. Mary says some members of her family like to sprinkle it with Worcestershire sauce, but most people love it just as it is.

Yield: Mary says that accompanied by hot rolls and a tossed green salad, a pan of Too Easy Hotdish will serve 4 teenage boys, or 6 normal adults. (Unless, of course, you invite Mike for a late supper—he must have been really hungry because he ate almost half the pan!)

Chapter Twenty-Three

“Thanks for dinner, Hannah,” Mike said, finishing his last forkful of Too Easy Hotdish. “It was great!Sometimes I feel like a freeloader because you always feed me. I’m going to have to take you out to dinner more often so I can pay you back.”

“It’s not about paybacks,” Hannah said, although she certainly wouldn’t mind going out to dinner more often. She reached out to refill Mike’s coffee cup from the carafe on the table and passed the plate of cookies left from the previous night.

Mike ate one cookie, took another to put down on a napkin, and pulled his notebook from his pocket. “I just finished meeting with Stacey Ramsey, Professor’s Ramsey’s first ex-wife. It turns out she had a very good reason to murder him.”

Hannah could barely believe her ears. She remembered Stacey as a tall, sylph-like girl with long brown hair, far too quiet and shy to ever commit murder. “What’s that?” she asked.

“Her parents were so impressed with Bradford, they wrote him into their will. He was to get half their estate, and Stacey would get the other half.”

“They must have been impressed!”

“It gets worse. Stacey’s parents were killed in an auto accident on Tuesday morning, and they never got around to changing their will after Bradford and Stacey divorced.”

“You’re telling me that Bradford was still in his first ex-in-law’s will?”

“That’s right. Bradford was all set to inherit half of Stacey’s parents’ assets. And according to the family lawyer, that amounted to several million dollars.”

“Several million which should have been Stacey’s alone.”

“Exactly.”

“Did Bradford know that Stacey’s parents had left him half of everything?”

“Yes. The family lawyer spoke to him on the phone Tuesday night. Bradford was supposed to drive to Fergus Falls on Thursday to sign all the documents.”

“But he was dead on Wednesday night, so the documents were never signed?”

“Right. You’re quick, Hannah.”

“Thank you. So what happens to the house and the land now?”

“Everything goes to Stacey since Professor Ramsey is dead. There was a provision in the will stating that if, at the time the will was formally read, either of the two beneficiaries had preceded the other in death, the living beneficiary would inherit the entire estate.”

“Do you think Stacey killed Bradford so that she could keep everything for herself?”

“That would be the logical conclusion, but it didn’t happen. Stacey has an iron clad alibi. She was riding in the backseat when her parents were killed, and she broke her shoulder. She didn’t get out of the hospital until this morning.”

“How about a new husband, or a boyfriend, or someone who wanted Bradford out of the picture?”

“Good thought, but there isn’t anybody.” Mike picked up his other cookie and took a bite. “How about you? Did you get anywhere?”

“Yes, and no. We discovered that Stephanie and Mayor Bascomb were suspects, but we cleared both of them.”

“Who’s we?”

“I don’t think you want to know that.”

Mike looked as if he might object, but then he shrugged. “Okay. Tell me why Mayor Bascomb and his wife were suspects.”

“Well … it’s like …” Hannah stopped and threw up her hands. “Actually, it’s better if you don’t know that, either.”

“But they both have alibis?”

“Oh yes,” Hannah said, happy that she could answer at least one of Mike’s questions. “Mother saw both of them in the lobby during intermission at the talent show. They were there for the whole time, and then they went back to their seats together.”

“Okay. How about any other suspects?”

“Norman’s checking into any students that Bradford flunked.”

“That’s really unlikely as a motive. Anything else?”

“Nothing important. Michelle knows one of Bradford’s research assistants, so she’s going to talk to him to see if he knows anything. How about you?”

“I talked to a couple of people who’d been at the luncheon on Wednesday afternoon. One of them said she saw Professor Ramsey getting into Samantha Summerfield’s car right after the luncheon was over.”

“Really?”

“I checked it out and her driver said he took them to Professor Ramsey’s apartment building. Then he waited in the parking lot for them to come out.”

Hannah didn’t ask. She just stared at Mike knowingly.

“Ten minutes,” Mike answered her unspoken question.

“Ten minutes?”

“That’s right. And when Miss Summerfield got back to the car, she wasn’t happy.”

“The driver could tell?”

“Anyone in the vicinity could tell. When Professor Ramsey turned to leave, Miss Summerfield rolled down her window and yelled, “Just stuff it, Brad! And if you even think about upstaging me tonight, I’ll bury you!”

“Do you think she was angry enough to kill him?”

“Possibly, but she didn’t have the opportunity. The driver said he waited for her at the back of the auditorium, and the moment the curtain came down on the first act, they hurried back out to the car. It wasn’t quite fast enough, because there were dozens of fans waiting for her. She got into the car, rolled down the window, and signed autographs for at least twenty minutes. I checked that out, and it’s true. And then the driver took Miss Sum-merfield back to Minneapolis.”

“I guess that clears her.”

Mike gave her a knowing grin. “But you still want to know what Professor Ramsey did to make her so mad, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Hannah admitted.

“Well, so did I, so I called and asked her.”

“You didn’t!”

“I did.”

“What did she say?”

“She said she thought they were going to talk about the talent show, but Professor Ramsey told her he’d admired her from afar ever since he’d first seen her on television, and he’d written a poem for her. He read it aloud, and then he … well … you can probably guess what he tried to do.”

“I can guess.”

“She told me that it might have worked on a naïve college freshman, but she wasn’t impressed with his line. She told him to get lost and marched right out of there.”

“Good for her!” Hannah said, wishing she’d done the same. But this was no time to indulge in regrets and recriminations. “Do you have any other suspects?”

“No, but I’m heading to Macalester in the morning to check out things there. Stella Parks is going to meet me on campus.”

Hannah remembered the Minneapolis detective with fondness. “Tell her hello from me,” she said.

“I will. Anything else I should know?”

“I don’t think so. If I think of anything, I’ll call.”

Mike stood up and headed to the door with Hannah following close behind. When he got there, he turned and asked, “How’s Norman?”

Hannah was ready to give her standard just fine answer, but Mike was Norman’s friend and she could tell he really wanted to know. “I’m not sure,” she said honestly. “Sometimes he seems just fine, but other times I know there’s something bothering him.” She stopped and took a deep breath. “I wish he could tell me what it was.”

“Me, too,” Mike said. “Then maybe we could do something to help.”

They stood there quietly, looking at each other, until Hannah dropped her eyes. “Goodnight, Mike,” she said.

“Goodnight, Hannah.” Mike pulled open the door, but he didn’t step out immediately. First he touched her cheek very gently, with the tip of his finger. “Take care,” he said, giving her a smile. And then he turned and walked down the stairs.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Hannah awoke to a rough tongue licking her nose and sunlight streaming in her bedroom window. “What time is it?” she asked her feline bedfellow.

“Rrowww!” Moishe answered, assuming a sphinx-like posture on the pillow next to hers.

Since she didn’t speak cat and had no interpreter, Hannah turned to look at the clock. It was seven-thirty, and she’d gotten over six and a half hours of sleep. This hadn’t happened since … Hannah’s mind balked at going that far back in time. It certainly hadn’t happened since she’d opened The Cookie Jar.

She threw back the light cotton coverlet she used during the summer months and smiled. This morning there was time for a luxurious cat stretch that imitated Moishe’s ritual stretch. Hannah rolled over on her stomach and extended her arms and legs in random order until they were spread out in opposite directions. When that was concluded, she tucked arms and legs back in and rolled to one side, then the other side, and ended up on her back. And then came the best stretch of all, with all four paws, or in Hannah’s case hands, pointing straight up to the heavens. After that there was a flip to the side, another stretch extending toward the doorway, and Hannah sat up on the edge of the bed feeling better than she had in months. Obviously sleep was the key. If only there were some way to get more of it! Leaving her roommate to take quite literally a spit bath, Hannah headed off to the shower.

Twelve minutes later, cat and mistress left their bedroom and padded down the hall. Moishe was wearing his orange and white fur suit, and Hannah was dressed in jeans and a short-sleeved buttercup yellow blouse. Hannah was still wearing her fur-lined slippers and Moishe was doing the same.

“Oh, my!” Hannah said as a welcome aroma drifted out from the kitchen. She’d forgotten to set the timer for the coffee last night, but Michelle had made a pot.

“Good morning, Hannah,” Michelle greeted her. “I’m falling down on the job. All I made for breakfast this morning is coffee.”

“Coffee’s perfect. It’s exactly what I need. Can you think of a better way to start the day?”

Michelle didn’t waste any time thinking. “You’re right. Sit down and I’ll get yours. And I’ll have another cup with you.”

“You know, it’s just amazing how alert I feel. And I haven’t even had my first cup of coffee.”

“Sleep will do that to you. You should really try it more often.” Michelle handed Hannah her coffee cup and sat down at the table with her.

The two sisters sipped in companionable silence for several minutes, and then Hannah spoke. “What are your plans for the day?”

“Mother doesn’t need me, so I thought I’d run out to the college and talk to Tim Pearson if I can borrow your truck.”

“Ride in to work with me and you can have it. Just make sure you’re back before the Donkey Baseball Game.”

“When is that?”

“It starts at three and lasts until six. Then there’s a barbecue and pizza feed in the big tent on the football field.”

“And after that is the auction … right?”

“Right. I know Mother was resisting. Did Stephanie end up talking her into donating something?”

“Yes, she did. Mother gave her a carved umbrella stand. It’s ebony and Luanne got it at an estate sale in Edina.”

“Sounds nice.”

“It isn’t. The carving is well done, but there are grotesque-looking rodents all over it. Mother’s never been able to sell it, so she decided to give it to Stephanie and take the write-off.”

“Smart move,” Hannah said, downing the last of her coffee and standing up. “Let’s get ready to go. I want to take a look at that umbrella stand for myself. I might just bid on it for Moishe.”

Lisa looked shocked as Hannah came in the back door of the shop. “It’s only nine o’clock. You didn’t have to come in this early.”

“Yes, I did. I wanted you to see how alert I am before I get tired again.”

Lisa laughed. “Marge baked her Cottage Cheese Cookies this morning. I’ll bring you a couple.”

Hannah poured herself a cup of coffee from the kitchen pot and sat down at the stainless steel workstation. Lisa brought her two cookies on a napkin and sat down across from her.

“Very good,” Hannah said after one bite. “How did Herb’s meeting with the mayor go?”

“Just fine. He’s going to start patrolling the cemetery this afternoon. He’s going to do a drive-through every two hours in the afternoon and increase it to once every hour when it gets dark out.”

“He’s not going to patrol all night, is he?” Hannah asked, hoping Mayor Bascomb wasn’t expecting his town marshal to go without sleep.

“Just for the first two nights. And that’s because Friday and Saturday nights are popular date nights. The mayor figures the news will spread pretty quickly and parking in the cemetery will lose its appeal.”

“But how can the mayor possibly expect Herb to go two nights without sleep?”

Lisa laughed. “I guess I forgot to tell you. Mayor Bascomb relieved Herb of all his other duties until the city maintenance crew can put up motion lights. They promised him the lights would be up and working by Sunday afternoon. They’re sending a man out there this morning to take photos and measurements. They did the same thing with the road past the apple orchard. They put up motion lights.”

“I wonder where the kids will move next?” Hannah mused. “And I also wonder if Mayor Bascomb owns stock in any motion light company.”

The next two hours passed quickly while Hannah baked. She was about to mix up a batch of Mystery Cookies when Lisa came in from the coffee shop.

“Norman’s here to see you,” she said. “Shall I tell him to come back here to the kitchen?”

“Yes, please,” Hannah said, wondering why Norman hadn’t simply parked in her spot and come in the kitchen door.

It appeared that Norman had been waiting very close to the door for Lisa’s summons, because Lisa left and only a second or two later, he pushed through the door.

“Hi, Norman. Coffee?”

“I’d love some. Thanks. Is it okay if I sit here?”

Hannah nodded when Norman pointed to a stool at the workstation. It was the same stool where he usually sat. Either Norman had suffered some unfortunate memory loss that had erased all recollection of their former relationship, or he was withdrawing again.

“Here you go,” Hannah said, setting his coffee in front of him. “How about a cookie?”

“That would be nice. Whatever you’ve got is fine.”

Hannah placed a Molasses Crackle and a Black and White on a napkin and handed them to Norman. And then, because she was frustrated with what she thought of as a subterfuge, she asked, “What’s wrong, Norman?”

“What do you mean?”

Since he’d dropped his eyes, Hannah could tell he knew exactly what she meant, but she decided to spell it out for him. “Sometimes you’re warm and loving, just like you were before the wedding. But other times, like now, you’re cold and distant. You’re perfectly polite, but you’re treating me like a stranger.”

“Fair enough.” Norman signed deeply. “I’m sorry, Hannah. It’s a personal problem I’m trying to work out. It has nothing to do with you.”

“But it affects me.”

“Yes. It does.” He was silent for a moment and then he gave her a little smile. “Just try to be patient with me. I’ll work it out eventually.”

“And then things will return to normal?”

“I hope so. Just give me a little time, Hannah. That’s all I ask. Will you do that for me”

“Of course,” Hannah said. What else could she say? But she was left with a vague and unsatisfactory answer to what was obviously a big problem. Rather than dwell on it and make both of them miserable, she smiled brightly and asked, “What did you learn from Kyle Williamson? I’ve been on pins and needles, waiting to hear.”

“I learned a lot.” Norman returned her smile. “I like him and I think the feeling’s mutual. At least he really opened up to me. He reminds me of me at that age. A little nerdy, a little bit too non-athletic to be very popular with the girls, and a little too eager to speak up in class when he knows the answer.”

“He sounds like a kid I might like,” Hannah ventured.

“You would. And he’s not really a kid. He’s got a degree in music from Juilliard, but it’s like he says, there’s not much work for a concert pianist who came in fourth in the important competitions and didn’t quite make the concert circuit. You know what I mean?”

“I do know. I thought for a while that I wanted to write poetry. I cared so much and I tried so hard. I put my heart on the page, but I just wasn’t good enough.”

“Do you still have any of your poetry?”

“It’s probably kicking around somewhere in the guest room closet.”

“If you’re willing, I’d like to read it sometime.”

“Maybe sometime,” Hannah said, wondering if that would ever come to pass. She couldn’t help but doubt the depth of their relationship. Right now, at this moment, Norman was his old self. But he could change in an instant to that distant stranger.

“I painted,” Norman said. And then he was silent. Hannah wondered if he were wishing he hadn’t revealed that about himself.

“What did you paint?” she asked.

“Houses.” Norman waited for a beat and then he chuckled. “Gotcha! You’re thinking house painter, right?”

“Yes, I was. But you painted …?”

“Cityscapes mostly. I concentrated on urban architecture. Houses, apartment buildings, landmarks … that type of thing. Mine were a bit different than most because the frame was always a window. And occasionally the perspective was not from the window itself, but from a point across the room from the window.”

Hannah stared at Norman in amazement. She’d seen several paintings of that description in the house Norman had built. She’d assumed they were prints of famous works, or original oils purchased for their investment potential. “The belfry?” she asked referring to the painting she’d noticed hanging in his study.

“The bell tower at Notre Dame. I painted it after a trip I took as a student. It’s my last one.”

“But it’s beautiful. I love it. Why did you stop painting?”

“I’m a lot like Kyle. I realized I wasn’t good enough to make a decent living at it, so I went to dental school.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to give up painting. You could paint on the weekends, or at night, or whenever. You don’t have to stop creating!”

“I might take it up again someday … as a hobby. But the fire to succeed as an artist of note is gone.”

“But you shouldn’t just give up. You should …”

“Do you still write poetry?” Norman interrupted her with a question.

“I … I … no. I haven’t written anything since I left college.”

“Point made,” Norman said.

“Point taken,” Hannah replied. “I just wish that …”

“Another time. Don’t you want to hear why Kyle flunked Professor Ramsey’s Intro to Poetry class?”

Hannah nodded, pulling herself out of her self-indulgent dream, where they traveled to wonderfully scenic places so that Norman could paint and she could write. “Tell me,” she said.

“Kyle told me his girlfriend broke up with him right before Christmas. She said she was in love with Professor Ramsey.”

“Oh, no!” Hannah said, feeling sorry for the jilted student.

“They’d both enrolled in his Intro to Poetry class, and Kyle convinced himself that it was just a passing thing and she’d come around as soon as she saw that he still loved her. The first day of class rolled around, and Kyle managed to sit next to her, but she wouldn’t even speak to him. That was the way things went for the first week of class. Kyle kept trying, and she kept refusing to have anything to do with him. He said he had to watch her flirting with Ramsey and that it was really hard to take.”

“I can imagine that! Poor Kyle.”

“And then Professor Ramsey started singling her out for things, keeping her after class, and inviting her to visit his home campus at Macalester. Kyle could tell she was falling completely under his spell, and he just couldn’t stand to watch it any longer.”

“So he started skipping classes, even when there were tests?” Hannah guessed.

“That’s about the size of it. Once he realized that Professor Ramsey was returning his girlfriend’s overtures, he stopped going to class altogether. It was just too painful to watch them interact. He would have dropped the class, but it was too late to drop, so he just took the failing grade.”

“That’s really sad.”

“I know.” Norman gave another little sigh. “He was very stoic about it. And he was also very convincing.”

“Convincing?”

“He convinced me that he still loved his girlfriend and he was hoping to get her back now that Professor Ramsey was dead.”

“Did he tell you the name of his girlfriend?”

“No. I asked, but he didn’t want to say. And I didn’t think I’d better push it or he’d clam up and stop answering my questions.”

Hannah was silent for minute, digesting all that she’d learned. “He’s certainly got a motive, especially if he thinks he can get his girlfriend back now that his rival’s dead. What about Wednesday night? Does he have an alibi?”

“Yes, and it’s a good one. There’s no way Kyle could have killed Professor Ramsey since he was hundreds of miles away from the scene of the crime. He flew out to Arizona State University on Wednesday morning to watch his sister graduate, and his parents were with him. They were all having dinner at T. Cooks at the Royal Palms Hotel when Professor Ramsey was killed.”

COTTAGE CHEESE COOKIES

DO NOT preheat oven—This dough needs to chill in the refrigerator overnight.

2 cups softened butter*** (4 sticks, 16 ounces, 1 pound)

1 and ½ cups brown sugar (pack it down in the mea suring cup)

2 cups white (granulated) sugar

4 large beaten eggs (just whip them up in a glasswith a fork)

1 teaspoon baking soda

2 teaspoons baking powder

½ teaspoon salt

4 teaspoons vanilla extract (that’s 1 Tablespoon plus 1 teaspoon)

2 cups cottage cheese (one-pound container) (I used small curd)

1 cup chopped pecans (you can use walnuts or anyother nut, if you prefer)

1 cup cocoa powder (I used Hershey’s)

5 and ½ cups all-purpose flour (don’t sift—just scoop it up with the measuring cup and level it off with a knife) approximately 1 cup powdered (confectioner’s) sugar for rolling dough balls

***That’s room temperature butter, unless you’re working in an unheated kitchen in Minnesota in the winter.

Hannah’s 1st Note: If you have an electric mixer, use it. This recipe makes about 12 dozen cookies and your arm may get tired. You can also cut the recipe in half if you like.

In a large mixing bowl, mix the butter with the brown sugar and the white sugar. Beat them together until they’re light and fluffy.

Add the eggs and mix until they’re thoroughly incorporated. If you’re using an electric mixer, you don’t have to whip them up in a glass first. You can just add them one by one, mixing after each egg is added.

Mix in the baking soda, baking powder, and salt. Stir until they’re completely mixed in.

Pour in the vanilla extract. Stir it in thoroughly.

Stir in the cottage cheese. Keep mixing until it’s thoroughly incorporated.

Mix in the chopped pecans. (Marge says you can also add raisins, if you like.)

Add the cocoa powder in quarter-cup increments (don’t worry about measuring accurately—just add it in 4 parts). Mix it in after every quarter-cup. Cocoa powder is very difficult to clean up, so don’t add it all at once or it will poof out the sides of your bowl and make a real mess.

Add the flour in half-cup increments. (It can also make a mess if it poofs out the sides of your bowl.)

Mix after each addition.

Give the bowl a final stir, cover it with plastic wrap, and stick it in the refrigerator to chill overnight.

When you’re ready to bake:

Preheat the oven to 350 F., rack in the middle position.

Spray cookie sheets with Pam or another nonstick cooking spray. You can also use parchment paper if you prefer.

Roll small balls of dough about one-inch in diameter. Roll the balls in powdered sugar and place them on the cookie sheets, 12 to a standard-size sheet. Press them down slightly when you position them so that they won’t roll off on the way to the oven.

Hannah’s 2nd Note: When Lisa and I bake these cookies at The Cookie Jar, we use white, granulated sugar for rolling instead of powdered sugar. That way we don’t confuse them with our Black And White Cookies.

Bake the Cottage Cheese Cookies at 350 degrees F. for 10 minutes. They’ll spread out all by themselves. Leave them on the cookie sheet for 2 minutes and then remove them to a wire rack to cool completely.

Hannah’s 3rd Note: Put on a pot of coffee while the first pans of Cottage Cheese Cookies are bak! ing.And check the refrigerator to make sure you’ve got plenty of icy cold milk for the kids. Everybody’s going to gobble these up and ask for more.

Yield: 12 dozen (depending on cookie size, of course) yummy and addictive cookies that everyone in the family will enjoy.

Chapter Twenty-Five

She’d stared at the page of suspects for five minutes now, and nothing new had occurred to her. There were Bradford’s ex-wives, but Mike had eliminated both of them as potential killers. Mayor and Stephanie Bascomb had been cleared, and so had Kyle Williamson. There was Samantha Summerfield, who’d been heard arguing with the victim, but Mike had talked to her driver and then confirmed her alibi. It was possible that Mike might find and interview several students and colleagues at Macal-ester who weren’t shedding any tears for the murdered professor, but Hannah doubted any of them had driven to Lake Eden to kill him.

Her coffee mug was empty. Hannah got up to refill it and returned to her perusal of the names on her list. Their strongest suspect to date was Tim Pearson. Bradford had claimed Tim’s work as his own and then failed to keep his end of their bargain. Hannah couldn’t blame Tim for putting such a permanent end to their academic relationship. Unfortunately, murder was unpleasant, immoral, and illegal, even in the hallowed halls of higher learning.

With the exception of Tim, there was only one other person on Hannah’s list, the one who appeared on every one of her suspect lists. It was Suspect U, the unidentified suspect who’d murdered the victim for an unknown motive.

Hannah was sitting there, staring down at the two suspects she’d hadn’t crossed out when Lisa came in from the coffee shop.

“Marguerite Hollenbeck’s here to see you,” she announced. “She says she has cookies for you.”

Hannah was always glad to see one of her neighbors from the condo complex, but this was a neighbor bearing cookies. Wasn’t that a little like taking coals to Newcastle, or to put it in more modern parlance, bringing a picnic to a restaurant?

“Shall I send her back to see you?” Lisa asked.

“Yes, please.”

“Good. I can hardly wait to hear about her cookies.”

Hannah was still trying to come up with the best simile when Marguerite came into the kitchen. “Hi, Marguerite. Lisa said you brought cookies for me?”

“Yes. You probably think it’s like bringing a Holy Bible to a minister, but these are special cookies.”

Marguerite had out-similied her with her church reference. Hannah fetched them both coffee from the kitchen pot, and they sat down at the workstation. Marguerite was smiling and Hannah knew precisely how her mother would describe it in Regency terms. It was the smile of the cat that had got into the cream pot. “What makes them special?” Hannah asked the question that Marguerite was obviously waiting to hear.

“They’re Watermelon Cookies.”

“What?!”

“They’re Watermelon Cookies. Remember that night in our garage when you were pacing back and forth, trying to come up with a recipe, and I came home from church?”

“I remember,” Hannah said, relieved that Marguerite had never figured out the real reason she’d been in the garage. She’d been meeting with Mike, who’d been pulled off a murder case, to listen to his advice on solving the crime. If they’d been caught, Mike would have been severely reprimanded. Hannah had used the first excuse she could think of when Marguerite had heard her talking to someone. Instead of admitting she’d been talking to Mike, she’d said she was talking to herself, trying to work out a recipe for watermelon cookies.

“I mentioned that to my friend, Brandi Archer, when she called me from Chicago. I said I told you I didn’t think watermelon cookies would be very good anyway, and she said she had a recipe for watermelon cookies and they were delicious. Of course I asked for the recipe. It came in the mail yesterday, and I baked them this morning for you.”

“That’s really sweet of you,” Hannah said, vowing never to admit that her story had been a complete fabrication. “Are they good?”

“I think they’re excellent. Try one and see what you think.”

With that said, Marguerite lifted the lid of the box to expose its contents. Nestled there in wax paper were several dozen pink cookies.

“They’re pretty,” Hannah said, and then she reached out for one. Although she agreed with Marguerite’s initial assessment that watermelon cookies couldn’t possibly be good, her neighbor had gone to all this trouble and she simply had to try one.

Marguerite continued to smile her smile as Hannah bit into the cookie. She waited until Hannah had taken the second bite, and then she said, “What do you think of them?”

“Good!” Hannah said, completely shocked at the layers of flavor she’d just experienced. “Crisp like a sugar cookie, sweet and satisfying, and they taste like sun-ripened watermelon.” She stopped and took another bite, swallowed, and asked the important question. “How did you do that?”

“Watermelon Kool-Aid. Brandi said you can make them in any flavor. She’s really fond of lime. Would you like the recipe?”

“I’d love to have the recipe. Are they difficult to make?”

“Not at all. You have to roll them out like Christmas cookies, but that’s not hard. And you have to be careful not to let them brown. Brandi warned me not to overbake them.” Marguerite opened her purse and pulled out a recipe card. “I copied the recipe for you. Are you going to bake them here for The Cookie Jar?”

“Does Reverend Knudson stand behind a pulpit?” Hannah asked, making up her own church reference on the spot.

Marge and Patsy were waiting on customers, Lisa was handling the cash register, and Hannah was in the kitchen feeling like a fifth wheel when there was a knock at the back door.

“Hi, Hannah,” Michelle said when she opened it. “I’d like you to meet a friend of mine, Tim Pearson. Tim and I are dying for coffee.”

“You’ve come to the right place.” Hannah opened the door a bit wider and motioned them in. She poured them coffee while they took seats at the workstation, and then she asked, “Cookies?”

“I’ve heard about your cookies,” Tim said. “I’ve been meaning to get here, but I’ve been so busy, I haven’t had a chance.”

“How about something with chocolate?” Michelle suggested, and Hannah noticed that Tim’s face lit up in a smile. Another chocoholic. She liked him already.

Hannah turned around to look at the contents of the baker’s rack. “I’ve got Triplet Chiplets.”

“Perfect!” Michelle turned to Tim. “You’re really going to love these cookies. It’ll give you another reason to celebrate.”

Hannah delivered the cookies and picked up Michelle’s cue. “What are you celebrating, Tim?”

“My new job as assistant professor in the English department at Lake Eden Community College. I found out on the way here with Michelle. Professor Sidwell called me on my cell phone to tell me that the selection committee had reconsidered and I got the job.”

“Good for you!” Hannah said.

“It’s all because Professor Sidwell stuck up for me. You have no idea how depressed I was when he called me on Wednesday afternoon to tell me that I’d lost the job to Tiffany. What he didn’t tell me was that he was going to pull Tiffany’s academic records and reconvene the committee. I think he didn’t want to get my hopes up.”

Michelle turned to Hannah. “Poor Tim was so upset after Professor Sidwell’s call on Wednesday, he drove to Minneapolis to be with his fiancée. They had dinner with her parents that night and Tim stayed over until the next morning. I talked to Judy on the phone right after Tim called to give her the good news, and she was really excited. She told me that both of them had been really sad on Wednesday night because they thought they’d have to wait to get married.”

“I’m really happy everything worked out for you, Tim.” Hannah said, catching on to the fact that Michelle had checked out Tim’s alibi with Judy.

“Tim starts teaching fall session, and the wedding’s set for the middle of August,” Michelle told her. “Professor Sidwell’s sure he can find a job for Judy at the college.”

“Wonderful!” Hannah said, giving Tim a warm smile as she went to get him two more cookies. She’d known from the get-go he wasn’t the killer. Anyone who finished two chocolate cookies in less than a minute couldn’t possibly be capable of murder.

She was just crossing Tim’s name off her suspect list when her sister barreled through the door separating the kitchen from the coffee shop. “This is it!” she said. “I’m finished!”

Hannah took one look at her usually immaculate sister and knew chocolate was in order. Andrea’s eyes were wild, her hair was escaping the neat French knot she’d fashioned at the nape of her neck, and she’d chewed her lipstick half off. Since Andrea would never appear in public this way unless she were dying or a crisis was on the horizon, Hannah led her to a stool at the workstation, poured her a soothing cup of coffee, and set a whole plate of Brownies Plus within easy reach.

Andrea reached for a brownie and ate it. And then she reached for another. Hannah waited until her sister had eaten three of the chocolate-laden cookie bars before she asked her question. “What’s wrong, Andrea?”

“It’s Tachyon. They’re ruining my life!”

“They offered Bill an even better deal?” Hannah guessed.

“Yes! Those … those home wreckers! Those family breaker-uppers! Those …” Andrea stopped and gave a shuddering sigh. “I just don’t know what to do, Hannah. I can’t fight this kind of thing.”

“What kind of thing?”

“What they offered Bill this time. They said that if I didn’t want to move, they’d fly him back home every other weekend so he could spend time with us. They promised him first-class tickets and a car service to drive him to and from the airports.”

“Oh boy, do they want him!” Hannah breathed.

“I know! I just don’t know how he can resist something like this. It’s really an incredible job offer.”

Hannah thought about it for a minute. “You’re right. It is an incredible offer. What is Bill going to do?”

“I don’t know. He told them he’d give them his decision by Monday. I think he’s going to take it, Hannah. I really do!”

“Without consulting you?”

“Of course not. He did consult me and I told him to do what he thought was best for all of us. What else could I say? He knows how I feel about moving.”

“You’ve done all you can,” Hannah said, reaching out to touch her sister’s hand. “But …”

“What?” Andrea asked, noticing Hannah’s frown.

“I’m not sure, but …” Hannah stopped to think about it for another moment. “There’s something wrong. I’m sure of it. It’s not that Bill isn’t worth all these perks. It’s just that …”

“What?” Andrea interrupted, leaning forward.

“It’s just that no big company should offer that much for a single employee. Sure, Bill’s qualified, but there must be other qualified people who’d jump at the opportunity. Did you or Bill think to check them out to see if the offers he’s getting are legitimate?”

“No, but they’ve been calling him for over a week now. They must be serious.”

“Has Bill ever called them back?”

“I … I don’t think so. I think they’re always the ones to call him.” Andrea stopped and began to frown. “What do you think is going on?”

“I’m not sure. The question I’d be asking is, Is Tachyon really calling Bill? And if the answer is no, I’d be asking, Who could be playing this kind of horrid joke on Bill, and why are they doing it?”

Andrea sat back and looked dazed. She was silent for several long moments. “You could be right. We never thought of anything like that.”

“Have Bill call Tachyon and see if they’ve called him.”

“I’ll run out to the station to see him right now!” Andrea exclaimed, jumping up from her stool. “Have I ever told you what a great sister you are?”

Hannah smiled. “Yes, but I never get tired of hearing it.”

WATERMELON COOKIES

Preheat oven to 325 degrees F., rack in the middle position.

1 package (.16-ounce) watermelon (or any other flavor) Kool-Aid powder (Don’t get the kind with sugar or sugar substitute added.)

1 and ⅔ cup white (granulated) sugar

1 and ½ cups softened butter (2 and ½ sticks, 10 ounces)

2 large eggs, beaten (just whip them up in a glass with a fork)

½ teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon baking soda

3 cups all-purpose flour (pack it down in the cup when you measure it)

½ cup white (granulated) sugar in a bowl

Hannah’s 1st Note: When Brandi makes these cookies, she rolls them out on a floured board and uses cookie cutters. Rolled cookies take more time than other types of cookies, so Lisa and I modified Brandi’s recipe for use at The Cookie Jar.

Mix the watermelon Kool-Aid with the granulated sugar.

Add the softened butter and mix until it’s nice and fluffy.

Add the eggs and mix well.

Mix in the salt and the baking soda. Make sure they’re well incorporated.

Add the flour in half-cup increments, mixing after each addition.

Spray cookie sheets with Pam or another nonstick cooking spray. You can also use parchment paper if you prefer.

Roll dough balls one inch in diameter with your hands. (We use a 2-teaspoon cookie scooper at The Cookie Jar.)

Roll the cookie balls in the bowl of white sugar and place them on the cookie sheet, 12 to a standard-size sheet.

Bake the Watermelon Cookies at 325 degrees F. for 10 to 12 minutes (mine took 11 minutes) or until they’re just beginning to turn golden around the edges. Don’t overbake.

Let the cookies cool on the cookie sheets for no more than a minute, and then remove them to a wire rack to cool completely.

Yield: Approximately 6 dozen pretty and unusual cookies that kids will adore, especially if you tell them that they’re made with Kool-Aid.

Hannah’s 2nd Note: Brandi’s mother baked these cookies to send to school on birthdays. She used a number cookie cutter that matched Brandi’s or her sister’s age that year.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Hannah’s sides hurt from laughing so hard. Mayor Bascomb was riding a donkey named Harry. Hannah knew that because the donkey’s name was stenciled on the donkey-sized sun hat he wore, complete with slits for his ears to poke up from the straw.

The mayor had hit a nice double to left field, but the left fielder, Gus York, couldn’t seem to get his donkey traveling any faster than an ambling walk. Meanwhile, the mayor’s donkey had stopped cold in his tracks between first and second base. Harry’s head was down, his tail was swishing from side to side in a show of bad temper, and despite the mayor’s encouraging shouts of “gid-dyup, boy” and “c’mon, Harry,” he was living up to his stubborn stereotype.

Two members of the team in the field did not have to ride donkeys. The pitcher stood on his own two feet, and so did the catcher. The batter didn’t sit on his donkey to hit, but he was required to mount in order to “run” the bases.

The teams had two donkey wranglers. One was Ken Purvis, who’d admitted to Hannah that he’d grown up in the Cities and knew next to nothing about farm animals, and the other was Doug Greerson. As the president of the Lake Eden First Mercantile Bank, Doug had dealt with some stubborn people, but he didn’t have much experience with donkeys.

Hannah watched as Doug pulled on Harry’s reins and Ken pushed from behind. It seemed to have no effect at all. She would have thought that Doctor Bob, the local vet, would have been the logical choice for a wrangler, but he was known as a prodigious hitter and the mayor had wanted him in the lineup.

“Take a look at Petunia,” Michelle said, nudging Hannah. “I want to know what you think of her hat.”

Hannah glanced at Petunia, the donkey that Joe Dietz was riding at third base. She was wearing a big, wide-brimmed hat of white straw with large orange and yellow flowers arranged around the crown. “That’s the most …” Hannah was about to say ridiculous when she realized that Delores, who was sitting on the other side of her, was also wearing a white straw hat with orange and yellow flowers arranged around the brim. “That’s the most beautiful hat of them all,” she said instead, giving Michelle a look that promised retribution in one form or another.

It seemed to take forever, but Gus York finally reached the ball that the mayor had hit. He was about to hop off his donkey, Custer. Custer, who had taken his namesake seriously and truly looked as though this game were his last stand, decided to wake up and smell the roses. Literally. With Gus hanging on for dear life, Custer began to move faster than Hannah had thought a donkey could move, across the baseball diamond, past the stands, streaking across the parking lot, and coming to a skidding stop at the rose garden the school grounds team had planted outside Mrs. Baxter’s classroom.

After a hasty conference with Doctor Bob, the two donkey wranglers headed off to retrieve the absent team member. They made a stop at the concession stand and then hurried to rescue Gus. And in a shorter time than anyone had believed possible, Ken and Doug brought Gus and his donkey back to the field by walking in front of Custer and feeding him bits of apple turnover.

“Does anyone want anything from the concession stand?” Hannah asked.

“Nothing, thank you, dear,” her mother responded.

“No thanks,” Michelle said.

“Okay then … I’ll be back in a couple of minutes. I want to see how the apple turnovers are selling.”

Hannah made her way down the steps of the bleachers and headed for the concession stand. She was almost there when someone called her name. She turned to see Andrea carrying Bethany, followed by Tracey who was in charge of the diaper bag and the booster seat.

“Hi, Aunt Hannah,” Tracey said, giving her a big smile. “Everybody loved your Imperial Cereal. Karen and I divided it up so everybody around us had a taste.”

“Did you tell them you made it?”

“Yes, but I don’t think they believed me. Maybe I’ll have to invite them over and do it in front of them next time.”

“Good idea,” Hannah said with a smile, and then she turned to Andrea. “Did you find out any more about Tach-yon?”

“Not yet. Bill’s in a conference and I didn’t get a chance to talk to him. That’s why I’m here with the kids. Everybody knows he’s overseeing the murder investigation, but it wouldn’t be good for the sheriff’s whole family to miss such an important charity function.”

“Mother’s in the stands with Michelle. They’re in section three, four rows up. There’s plenty of room if you want to join us. I’m just going to see how the turnovers are selling.”

“Okay. We’ll go up there and see you later.” Andrea motioned for Tracey to follow her, and they headed off toward the bleachers. Hannah went in the opposite direction to the large concession stand.

“How’s it going?” she asked Bonnie Surma, who was working behind the counter.

“Just fine. Your turnovers are a big hit.”

“That’s good. Are you running out?”

“We would have run out an hour ago, except Lisa brought us another ten dozen. Would you like one?”

“No thanks. I’ve pigged out enough already today. Just a black coffee for me.”

“But I’d like an apple turnover,” a voice behind her spoke and Hannah turned to see Sherri Connors.

“Hi, Sherri. You look like you’re feeling better.”

“Oh, I am! That medicine Doc Knight gave me settled my stomach and I haven’t … well … you-know-what in forty-eight hours. The only thing is it made me so hungry I can’t seem to stop eating.” Sherri accepted the plate with her turnover and gave a little shrug. “I probably shouldn’t, but I’d like a hotdog, too.”

“One hotdog coming up,” Bonnie said, handing over Hannah’s coffee. She took a hotdog off the revolving spit that kept them hot and placed it inside a bun. “Ketchup or mustard?”

“Mustard. Four or five packets, please.”

“How about pickles?”

“Yes, I just love pickles. And a …” Sherri hesitated, eyeing the array of bottles on the shelf behind the counter. “I’ll have a root beer to drink.”

“And this is my treat,” Hannah said, handing several bills to Bonnie.

“Oh, but you really shouldn’t …”

“Yes, I should,” Hannah cut off Sherri’s objection. “We’re celebrating the fact that you’re feeling good enough to eat.”

Once Sherri had picked up her tray, Hannah followed her over to the picnic area under the trees. They chose a table and sat down.

“Mmmm,” Sherri said, biting into the turnover. “This is so good! But it’s dessert, so I’d better eat my hotdog first.”

Hannah watched as Sherri made short work of the hot-dog, opening the packets of mustard, making a yellow pool on her plate, and dipping in the hotdog as she ate it. She took a large swallow of root beer and smiled at Hannah. “It’s so good to eat again. You have no idea. I was beginning to think I’d never be able to enjoy food again.”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” Hannah said, smiling back. And then she watched Sherri attack her apple turnover.

“Oh, this is heaven!” the young dancer exclaimed after her second bite. “Tender, and flaky, and sweet, and good. This is the best apple turnover I’ve ever had.”

And then, as Hannah observed her, a thoughtful expression crossed her pretty face. “I wonder how it would be with … I know it sounds crazy, but … I’m going to try it and see!”

Sherri dipped the apple turnover in her pool of yellow mustard and took a bite. She chewed, smiled delightedly, and looked up at Hannah. “It’s good! You really ought to try it sometime.”

Hannah didn’t say anything, because alarm bells were clanging in her mind. Doc Knight had said Sherri didn’t have the flu or food poisoning. He’d remarked that it was a pity, but she’d be all right in a week or so. That information coupled with Sherri’s current meal of dill pickle slices eaten with gusto, a whole hotdog devoured in four bites, an apple turnover dipped in yellow mustard and declared delicious, and a sick stomach that wasn’t sick anymore led Hannah to one conclusion.

“Sherri,” Hannah leaned close across the table. “Maybe this isn’t exactly a polite question to ask, but I have to know. Are you pregnant?”

Sherri’s face turned white and her hands began to tremble. “Please don’t tell anyone,” she begged, and Hannah saw her blink back tears. “I should be so happy, but now I just don’t know what to do!”

“Please don’t cry. I’ll help you any way I can,” Hannah promised, reaching out to pat Sherri’s hand. “You have options, you know. There are places you can go, people who will help you. If you can’t keep the baby, you can give it up to a reliable agency for adoption.”

“No!” Sherri cried. “I’ll never do that! Look what happened to Perry and me. I’ll never let my baby grow up without a mother and a father.”

“How about the baby’s father? Do you love him?”

Sherri nodded, and when she spoke her voice was husky. “Oh, yes! And he said he loved me. He promised me we’d always be together.”

“Can you marry him?”

Sherri shook her head and that action seemed to bring about a flood of tears. They rolled down her cheeks and fell on the table, making dark, painful-looking splotches on the wood.

“Help me understand,” Hannah said, reaching out to touch Sherri’s hand again. “You love the baby’s father, but you can’t marry him?”

Sherri made a soft, strangled sound in the back of her throat. “Yes,” she gasped.

“He’s already married?”

“No!” Sherri covered her eyes with her hands. “No, no, no!”

“He’s not married, but you can’t marry him.”

“Yes! I thought I could, but I can’t marry him … not now!”

And with that anguished cry, Sherri was up and fleeing, her dancer’s legs churning across the parking lot and around the corner of the school building, leaving Hannah to sit there wondering what she could possibly do to help her young friend.

Chaper Twenty-Seven

Hannah sat there for a long time after Sherri had fled, attempting to decide the right thing to do. Since she didn’t know the name of the baby’s father, she had to forget about contacting him. She had to go to the person who cared most about Sherri’s welfare, her twin brother, Perry. He’d be shocked when Hannah told him about Sherri’s pregnancy, but he loved his sister and together they could work out some way to help her.

A quick survey of the bleachers confirmed that Perry was not at the Donkey Baseball fundraiser game. Hannah was just crossing the road to the parking lot to get her cookie truck and drive to the college apartment he shared with Sherri when she remembered his job schedule. Perry worked on the city maintenance and grounds crew every Friday afternoon. This was Friday afternoon and he’d be at work somewhere right here in Lake Eden.

Almost as if she’d willed it, a city maintenance truck pulled into the school parking lot. Hannah hurried over to talk to the driver, intending to ask him where Perry was working, when Lady Luck smiled upon her. The driver was Perry.

“Hi, Perry,” she said, approaching the open driver’s window. “You’re just the guy I need to see.”

“Hold on a second.” Perry looked apologetic as he pointed to the cell phone on his dash. “I’ve got to take this call. It’s work.”

“Go ahead,” Hannah said, stepping back slightly. Because the window was open, she could still hear the call, but it was the polite thing to do.

Perry answered the phone, listened for a moment, and then he spoke. “I’ll run out there right now, before I finish that street sign. You say you need the distance between the first five light posts and the gate?”

There was another silence while Perry listened to the reply. “Okay. I’ll call it in as soon as I measure.”

When he’d clicked off the phone, Perry turned to Hannah. “Sorry. That was another assignment for me. I have to run out to Spring Brook Cemetery. We’re putting in motion lights and they need to confirm a measurement someone made this morning.”

“I understand, but I really need to talk to you, Perry.”

“How about later this evening? They need this measurement right away.”

“This is something that shouldn’t wait. It concerns Sherri.”

“Oh. Well … you can ride along with me if you want to. We can talk while I’m measuring, and then I can bring you back here.”

“That’ll work fine,” Hannah said, walking around to the passenger side of the truck and climbing in.

***

She hadn’t thought it was a good idea to bring up the subject of Sherri’s pregnancy while Perry was driving. Hannah waited until they got to the cemetery and took the road that separated the new side of the grounds from the old.

Perry parked under a towering oak and went around to the back of the truck to get out his equipment. Hannah stashed her purse under the passenger seat and got out of the truck to wait for him.

It was shady and much cooler than it had been at the school baseball field. A breeze was blowing from the direction of the brook, and trees dotted the carefully manicured grass. A stately elm spread its leaves like an umbrella over the top of a grassy knoll, tall pines pierced the sky in a bid for a celestial home, and a silver maple rustled its delicate leaves beside the alabaster statue of an angel. The grass lay like a thick green carpet over rolling hills, and even with the headstones to remind her of its purpose, Hannah could see why teenagers might want to park in this beautiful place.

She turned to look at the family mausoleums on the older side of the cemetery. The one directly across the road, a pink granite edifice with crumbled stone columns in front, was in bad repair. The granite blocks that made up the building had separated slightly as the ground had settled, and from where she was standing, she could see a triangular-shaped wedge of the dark interior. It was a real pity the gravesite hadn’t been maintained. The bas-relief carving of cherubs on the front was lovely.

Perry got out of the truck with his rolling tape measure, the kind the flooring salesman had used to measure her condo for new carpets. “Do you mind if we talk while I measure?” he asked.

“Not at all. It’s really beautiful out here.”

“I know. That’s why we have to secure the place with motion lights. People are just dying to get in.”

Perry grinned, Hannah groaned at one of the worst jokes she’d ever heard, and they set off for the gate. Once they got there, Perry zeroed his measuring device, set it on the ground, and began to walk to the first light post. “So why do you want to talk about Sherri?” he asked her.

“She’s in trouble, Perry.”

“How is she in trouble?” Perry asked, not looking up at her. He kept his eyes on the rolling measuring tool, making sure the wheels were in contact with the ground as they walked.

They’d covered half the ground to the first light post, an ornate metal base with filigree at the top that supported a large globe. Hannah knew that there was no time to waste if she wanted to accomplish a plan to help Sherri. “I don’t know if you know this, and I hope it’s not too much of a shock, but Sherri’s pregnant.”

Perry arrived at the first light post and stopped to jot down the measurement. “I know,” he said, walking on toward the second light post. “Doc Knight told me right after he examined her.”

Hannah drew a deep breath of relief and let it out again. The fact that Perry knew made things a lot easier.

“So is that all you wanted to tell me?” Perry asked.

“No. There’s got to be something we can do to help Sherri.”

“Help her how?”

“I’m not sure. That’s why I wanted to talk to you. When I saw her just a couple of minutes ago, she was distraught and frightened.”

“Oh. Well, I’ll take care of it.”

Hannah began to frown. Perry was answering her, but he wasn’t really communicating. It was clear he wished she’d leave well enough alone. “The only thing is,” Hannah said, wondering how she could persuade him that she really did want to help both of them. “I’m sure you’ll do your best, Perry, but you may need some help. I’m really worried about Sherri’s mental state.”

“Why?” Perry reached the second light post and jotted down the measurement. Then he checked his rolling device again, and walked on toward the third light.

“I’m worried because she needs someone to help her through the days ahead. It won’t be easy.”

“She’s got me. That’s all she needs.”

Hannah stopped walking as Perry came to the third light post and jotted down yet another measurement. She really didn’t like his attitude. She reminded herself that she had to make allowances for the fact he’d grown up alone, with no father or mother to guide him, and he’d learned to rely only on himself. It was clear that he was determined to take care of Sherri and that was admirable, but she wished he’d accept outside help when it was offered.

Perry was moving toward the fourth light post and Hannah hurried to catch up. “I’m not trying to be nosy, Perry. Really I’m not. It’s just that Sherri told me she wants to keep her baby, and that’ll be very difficult for her. She said giving the baby up for adoption was out of the question.”

“She’s right about that.” Perry’s voice was hard. “Most of the kids at the Home were put up for adoption, but they didn’t get adopted. They stayed right there until they were old enough to go.”

Hannah waited until Perry had stopped to write down the measurement at the fourth light post, and then she tried again. “Isn’t there any possibility that Sherri could marry the baby’s father? She said she loved him.”

“No. There’s no possibility at all.”

“But she said he loved her, too. I don’t understand.”

They walked in silence to the fifth light post, where Perry jotted down the measurement. Then he turned to her with a hard smile. “He never loved Sherri. He was getting ready to cut her loose anyway. I warned her. I told her that he was a jerk and not to listen to him. I pointed out that we were only inches from making it, that the movie deal was our ticket out of here. So what did my stupid sister do? She got pregnant and waved that movie deal goodbye. She actually believed him when he said that she was his inspiration, and they were like Elizabeth Barrett and Robert Browning.”

Hannah’s mind screamed a warning. Run! Run away now! But her feet seemed glued to the ground. “You killed Bradford Ramsey?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

“I did the world a favor … at least the female half. He used women and then he threw them away. You should have seen his face when he saw the knife. He knew what was coming and he knew he deserved it, but he still sniveled like a baby and begged me not to do it!”

As she looked into Perry’s glittering and frenzied eyes, the signal from Hannah’s mind finally reached her feet. She whirled and ran as fast as she could over the hilly ground, not caring where she was going as long as it was away from the Bradford’s killer and danger.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

He was gaining on her, which was no surprise. Hannah chided herself for one fleeting moment about not keeping up her exercise regimen at the gym, but kicking herself mentally would do no good now. Perry was ten years younger and about a thousand times more athletic than she was at her best. Her only hope was outsmarting him.

Hannah darted around two weeping willow trees. The selection was quite appropriate for a cemetery, but she certainly didn’t stop to dwell on that thought. She emerged from the green canopy that had hidden her for a few seconds and dashed across the road that divided the historic section of Spring Brook Cemetery from the resting place of the more recently deceased.

Of course he’d seen her. She’d expected that. But since it was physically impossible for her to outrun him, it might be possible for her to lose him among the crumbling old mausoleums and huge statuary.

She knew this part of the cemetery fairly well from her bicycle trips to the edge of town as a child. Hannah recognized the Ezekiel Jordan mausoleum with its four colors of granite and its grouping of seraphim artfully arranged by the steps leading up to the door. Since it hadn’t been erected on a hilltop or even a gentle rise of land, the first mayor of Lake Eden had been laid to rest in a structure with a floor built of granite slabs that were three feet thick.

No place to hide in the first mayor’s crypt. It would be locked anyway. The city preserved the graveside of its founder and the key would be under lock and key.

The key would be under lock and key, her mind repeated as she ducked under another weeping willow and jumped over a low crumbling wall. Hannah gave her mind a piece of her mind, which earned her another censure from her grey cells as she darted around a massive statue of virgin and child. This was no time to criticize her use of English. It was a time to look for a hiding place … and fast!

The Pettis family mausoleum was directly in front of her. Hannah remembered a missing block of granite at the back, providing access to the crypt itself, where brave kids used to hide in games of Hide and Seek. Hannah had not been a brave kid. But she wasn’t being chased by a killer back then, either. She raced around the building, heading for the farthest corner, and stopped dead in her tracks. The hole had been repaired. She couldn’t hide here.

She peeked out cautiously and saw him standing about a half-block away, looking toward the west and shading his eyes from sun. Had she lost him? Should she stay here as quiet as a mouse and wait until he gave up and walked back to his truck?

Who are you kidding? Hannah’s mind said, and this time she agreed that it would be a bad decision. He’d search this whole area for her and find her huddled here. And then he’d pull out the knife, perhaps even the same one that he’d used on Bradford, and make sure she never told anyone what she knew.

Hannah shuddered. She wasn’t quite sure what horrified her most, the idea that he would kill her or the thought that she’d be stabbed with Bradford’s knife. In any event, she wasn’t going to hang around to find out.

Carefully and quietly, she began to work her way west, hoping the bright sun that was midway between its apex and the horizon, would blind him to her presence. She’d passed the second mausoleum when she saw it, a way that she could hide from Perry. It was the Henderson family mausoleum. She knew that because Bud Hauge had repaired the metal walleye and attached it to the front of the structure. But it wasn’t the walleye that had caught Hannah’s attention. It was the door at the side of the structure. The padlock that normally secured it was open and the door was very slightly ajar.

She really didn’t want to go in. There was nothing less appealing than a dark final resting place furnished with cold granite slabs that were decorated with spider webs and slithery, slimy things, and inhabited, if you could call it that, by dead mouldering bodies. Hannah swallowed hard, repressed a shiver, and corrected herself. The only thing less appealing than the inside of the Henderson crypt was being cornered by the man who intended to make her into one of those same mouldering bodies!

Hannah pulled the door open. It took all the courage she had to step inside, but she told herself that the dead could hurt her a lot less than the living and to get on with it.

Once she’d shut the door behind her, Hannah felt faint with fear. She stood there breathing heavily for what seemed like hours until she heard another sound, a sound that made her blood run cold. It was the click of a padlock closing outside the door. Perry had discovered her hiding place and locked her in!

A sudden dizziness came over her. It made her lose all sense of direction. She knew her feet were resting on the floor … or were they? Was up really up? Was down really down? It was the sort of total disorientation people must feel in a sensory deprivation chamber.

She had to sit down and get her bearings. But where? Even though she’d been here for several minutes, her eyes had not adjusted and it was still as black as a tomb inside. Black as a tomb? her mind asked. Just where do you think you are?

Of course she ignored it. Her mind wasn’t being very helpful at the moment. She had to concentrate on the positives in her situation. Yes, she was locked in, but she wouldn’t think about that. She was alive and unhurt, and that meant she had options. She couldn’t see, but she could still feel.

Tentatively, Hannah reached out into the darkness. Her left hand encountered a hard slightly-rounded surface. It was only a bit above chair height, and she sat down. It was a lot better than sitting on the floor with the spiders and the other crawly things, and it would be fairly comfortable if she removed the object that was jabbing her from her rear pocket. What could it be, anyway? She’d left her purse in Perry’s truck, and the only thing she had with her was …

Her cell phone! Hannah stood up in a flash and retrieved her cell phone. Why hadn’t she thought of it sooner? It was her salvation, her escape from danger, her passport out of here. She flipped it open, glanced at the display, and gave a moan of dismay. There were no bars, and the screen read No Signal. Spring Brook Cemetery was in a dead zone.

The cemetery is in a dead zone, her mind repeated, how appropriate. Hannah had to admit it did make sense. Why would they install a cell phone tower in the cemetery? It wasn’t as if the residents would be making many calls.

She couldn’t sit here and do nothing, hoping that someone had seen her get into the truck with Perry and would ask the right questions to track her to Spring Brook Cemetery. She was responsible for her own survival, and that meant she must find a way to get out of the mausoleum. She needed to explore her surroundings and find something she could use as a weapon if Perry came back. And if he failed to come back, she had to look for something she could use to force the wooden door open.

If only she had her flashlight! Hannah thought about it longingly for a moment, and then she remembered the cell phone in her hand. It wouldn’t make calls, but there was a light on the display. The light stayed on for only a minute and then it went off, but it would go on again every time she closed the phone and flipped it open again.

The search began with the area to her immediate right. Hannah flipped on the phone and used the lighted display to shine a dim light on a red wool hunting jacket and a hunting cap with earflaps. For a moment she was puzzled, but then she remembered that she was in Winnie Henderson’s family crypt, and Winnie had told Delores that she’d buried her husbands with their sporting equipment.

Too bad there weren’t any guns, but Winnie hadn’t been that foolish. There might be knives though. Hannah re-flipped her phone to look through the hunting coat pockets and came up with a hunting knife in a leather sheath. It was a weapon and she would use it on Perry if she had to, but it might also be useful as a tool to carve her way through the wooden door.

Her next discovery was a drawstring pouch. Hannah had just pulled several cigar-shaped objects from the pocket when she heard a car enter the cemetery and drive up the road.

It was a warm summer afternoon. Unless the driver had air-conditioning, the windows of the car would be rolled down. If it was Perry’s work truck, calling out for help would do no harm since he already knew her location. If, on the other hand, it was a carload of teen-agers looking for privacy at the cemetery, they might hear her and come to her rescue.

The car pulled up and stopped. Hannah waited a moment and then she called out. “Help! I’m locked in the Henderson crypt! Help me, please!”

There was a moment when nothing happened, and Hannah was just wondering if she should call out again when she heard a young female’s panicked voice. “I heard something from that grave over there! Turn around quick! Let’s get out of here!”

Hannah uttered a series of phrases she hoped her nieces would never learn from her, and sighed as the engine turned over, the tires squealed, and the driver burned rubber on his way to the gates.

They hadn’t heard her words … only the sounds. And they’d fled rather than attempt to find out what it was. What if no one heard her, and no one came? Hannah shivered and goose bumps peppered her arms. The light on her phone would give out eventually, and then she would be entombed here in the dark. Alone. Forever.

Visions of someone, years from now, opening the mausoleum to bury another member of the Henderson family and finding her body jolted Hannah into action. She picked up the knife and used the display on her cell phone to light her way to the crypt door. She worked for long minutes, twisting the tip of the blade this way and that, attempting to carve a hole in the wood, but the door was too thick to penetrate easily. She tried again with more force, slamming the blade into the wood, when she heard something snap. She’d broken the blade! It had probably rusted over the years and now it was useless to her.

How long will it take to starve? Hannah’s mind asked, presenting the question like a numbered item on a multiple choice test. One month, two months, more than three months, or none of the above? Her mind listed the lettered answers.

“None of the above,” Hannah answered aloud, startling something with wings that flew up toward the ceiling. It could have been a bird, or perhaps a bat, but she really didn’t want to know. “I’m going to get out of here or die trying!” she said. And then, when the words echoed back to her, she warned her mind, “Don’t you dare make a joke about that!”

It was then that she heard a second car approaching. She made her way to the door, put her mouth close to the place she’d been attempting to pierce with the knife, and prepared to shout at the top of her lungs. But as the car drew closer, she heard a low boom, and then another boom, followed by several others in an unmistakable rhythm. They were listening to music, and the windows were closed! Hannah cursed the day the car stereo had been invented as the rhythmic booming of the bass faded away in the distance and her hopes dwindled with it.

She was about to sit down again and try to think of something she could do to call attention to her plight, when she remembered that Herb would be patrolling the cemetery. His cruiser had no air-conditioning, and Lisa had told her that he never listened to music when he was on patrol. Herb’s windows would be wide open and perhaps she could call out to him as he drove by. But what if he didn’t hear her? What then? Somehow she had to make sure he knew she was here.

Since her mind seemed to be perfectly empty of any suggestions on just how to do that, Hannah picked up the last treasures she’d found and shined her cell-phone-turned-flashlight on them.

The first cigar-shaped object was a duck call. It said so right on the side. Hannah blew it once to test it and the thing near the ceiling fluttered again. She reached for the second, larger tube. This one was also marked, and it read Moose Call. That wouldn’t really do her any good since it was highly unlikely a moose would hear it and crash through the door to the Henderson family mausoleum. The third object, the smallest of the three that was shaped like a whistle, intrigued her. It was not marked, but Hannah picked it up and blew.

Nothing happened. She blew it again and still there was no sound. She was puzzled for a second or two, but then she knew what it was. She couldn’t hear the sound because it was too high-pitched for human ears. It was a dog whistle and it was the most important discovery she’d ever made.

Hannah used her phone light to check her watch. Herb should be driving into the cemetery in less than five minutes. She moved near the door, where there might be a slight crack that would make it easier to hear, and prepared to blow Dillon’s code on what she prayed was a dog whistle.

The minutes ticked by with agonizing slowness. What if Mayor Bascomb had called off Herb’s patrol for some reason? What if Dillon had a stomach upset and Herb left him at home? What if the dog whistle was broken? Since she couldn’t hear it anyway, how would she know? What if no one ever found her and Norman married someone else? And Mike married someone else? And Delores, Andrea, and Michelle grieved for a while and then treated Hannah’s disappearance like an old mystery, a cold case that no one was able to solve? What if … there he was!

Hannah heard the car crunch across the gravel at the cemetery gates. It drove in, very slowly, and Hannah listened to the sound of the engine approaching. When she thought it was directly opposite the Henderson family mausoleum, she raised the whistle to her lips and blew three short blasts. Then she paused for a couple of beats and blew two more blasts. And then she waited.

“Dillon!” she heard a faint cry in what sounded like Herb’s voice. “Get back here!”

Hannah raised the whistle to her lips again. Three short blasts, a pause, and then two more. And no more than ten seconds later, she heard paws scrabbling frantically at the mausoleum door.

There was another shouted cry from Herb for Dillon to come back, and Hannah knew she’d better make sure he didn’t return to his master. She gave another three blasts on the whistle, waited the required several beats, and blew two more.

“Dillon! What are you doing?” Herb shouted, and this time his voice was much closer

“Help!” Hannah shouted. “Help me, Herb!”

“Hannah? Are you in there?”

“Yes!” Hannah shouted, almost dizzy with relief. “I’m locked in!”

“Hang on, Hannah! I’ll get you out! I’ve got bolt cutters in the cruiser. I’ll be right back.”

Hannah knew Herb had to leave for a minute or two in order to rescue her, but she still felt abandoned. The fearful feeling began to come back, but it was quickly dispelled by a little sound outside the door.

“Dillon?” she called out, and she was rewarded by an answering bark. “Stay with me, Dillon,” she said, and she heard him paw at the door.

“I’m back,” Herb shouted out. “Just a second, Hannah. All I have to do is … there we go!”

Hannah heard a loud snap and a moment later, the heavy wooden door creaked open. Sunlight poured in, and for a few moments she was confused. It was still daytime! The sunlight was so bright it hurt her eyes, and she blinked like a mole coming up from its hole. And then a little white dog barreled up to her and she caught him in her arms.

“What happened?” Herb asked, as Dillon licked Hannah’s nose.

“Perry killed Bradford and he locked me in here. Call it in, Herb. He’s crazy and they’ve got to catch him!”

“I’m on it,” Herb said. “Can you get back to the cruiser by yourself?”

“Yes. Go!” Hannah smiled as she received another doggy kiss on her cheek. She kissed Dillon back on the top of his head and stuffed her lifesaving cell phone back in her pocket. And then she stepped out into the light with Dillon following closely behind her.

They hurried through the cemetery and up to the cruiser where Herb was making the call. Hannah opened the passenger door and patted her lap for Dillon to jump up. When he did, she gave him another nuzzle on the head. “Good boy!” she said.

“Dispatch found Mike,” Herb reported, turning to her. “He was heading straight out to the college apartments anyway.”

“Why?”

“Michelle called him on his cell phone when you didn’t come back from the concession stand. She said she didn’t know if it was important, but she remembered where she’d heard Kyle Williamson’s name before. Sherri Connors introduced him as her boyfriend when they were rehearsing the Christmas Follies at the college. Mike was heading out there to interview Sherri about him.”

“So I was a step ahead of Mike,” Hannah said, not sure if that was a bad or a good thing.

“That’s right. Mike said to hang tight, he’ll catch up with you later at home to take your statement.”

“Good,” Hannah said, and then she turned back to Dillon. “You’re such a good boy, Dillon. When I get back to the condo, I’m going to bake a special cake just for you!”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

It was the most unusual cake she’d ever made. Hannah mixed up the frosting, spread some between the layers to hold them in place, and frosted the top and sides. This process was made doubly difficult by the intrusion of an orange and white cat, who was clearly mesmerized by her actions.

“Now don’t be jealous,” Hannah told Moishe. “This cake is for Dillon because he saved my life. When I come home from the party at the Lake Eden Inn, I’ll figure out how to make you your own cake.”

Despite her pacifying promise, Moishe’s whiskers touched the frosting in several places before Hannah was through putting on the finishing touches. He’d never been this interested in her culinary efforts before! Perhaps it was the cream cheese in the frosting. Moishe loved cream cheese. Hannah found the wrapper, scraped off the little smears of cream cheese that were clinging to the inside, and held out her finger for Moishe to lick.

“Okay,” Hannah said, intending to head to the bedroom to get dressed, but thinking better of it. Moishe wanted the cake and it was out on the counter, a small jump for him and a large disaster for her.

The microwave. Hannah opened the door, stashed the cake inside, and closed it. Moishe was a smart cat, but he hadn’t learned how to open the microwave yet…. or at least she hoped he hadn’t.

“Better safe than sorry,” Hannah mumbled, just as Michelle came into the kitchen, all dressed and ready to go. “Will you do a favor for me?”

“Sure. What is it?”

“Carry Dillon’s cake down to the cookie truck while I get dressed. It’s in the microwave and I don’t trust Moishe.”

“Moishe can open the microwave?”

“I don’t think so, but you never know with him. If he can figure out a way to get to his food in a locked broom closet, I wouldn’t put a simple thing like opening a microwave past him.”

Hannah pulled into Lisa and Herb’s driveway and parked. She glanced down at her purse, recovered from the floorboards under the passenger seat of Perry’s city maintenance truck, and handed it to Michelle. “I’ll be right back.”

“This is so sweet of you, Hannah!” Lisa looked delighted as she accepted Dillon’s cake. “The only thing is … I’m not sure dogs like cake.”

“He’ll like this one. It’s a Good Doggy Cake. The frosting is cream cheese and liverwurst, and the three layers are ground chicken, ground beef, and ground turkey.”

“Oh, my!” Lisa was clearly impressed. “In that case he’s going to love it. I’ll give him a piece for dessert tonight and tell him it’s from you.”

Hannah gave Lisa a hug and hurried back out to her cookie truck. Once there, she pressed the pedal to the metal, which didn’t have the same effect that racecar drivers spoke of, and they arrived at the Lake Eden Inn fifteen minutes later than the time stated by their mother when she invited them for dinner.

“I guess we’re not so late after all,” Hannah said to Michelle as they followed the waitress to a long table in the center of the dining room. Delores was already seated at the head of the table with Mike seated next to her around the corner. There were place cards, as usual, and Hannah headed over to Mike, knowing that her mother always sandwiched her in between Mike and Norman.

“Hello, darlings!” Delores greeted them. “You’re on the other side, Michelle, next to Tracey when Andrea and Bill get here. And Hannah? You’re next to …”

“I know,” Hannah interrupted her mother.

“I have something for you in my car,” Delores said, and then she smiled. “Actually, it’s for my grandcat. It’s that umbrella stand you wanted for Moishe. Andrea bought it at the auction for you.”

“Great!” Hannah was pleased. The giant gargoyle-like mice might keep Moishe amused for a while. “I hope she didn’t pay too much.”

“She paid a dollar. No one else bid on it. I only have one caveat before I hand it over to you, dear.”

“What’s that, Mother?”

“You hide it in the closet when I come over. It’s the most hideous thing I’ve ever seen.”

Hannah was saved from making that promise by the arrival of Andrea, Bill, and Tracey. Once everyone had been properly greeted, they took the places Delores indicated, and then Bill turned to Hannah.

“Thank you, Hannah,” he said.

“For what?”

“For planting the seeds of doubt in my mind. I was so bowled over by Tachyon’s offer, I didn’t even think to question it. You were absolutely right. They called me. I never called them.”

“Was the offer legitimate?” Hannah held her breath. She wasn’t sure whether she hoped it was or it wasn’t.

“Tachyon never heard of the person who offered Bill the job,” Andrea answered. “It was all a lie.”

“And now that Professor Ramsey’s killer is behind bars, I’ve got Mike and Lonnie making inquiries to find out who made the calls and why,” Bill picked up the explanation. “That idea you had about someone who wants to discredit me is a good one.”

“We’re going to tap Bill’s home phone,” Mike said. “We think we might be able to trace the call if Bill keeps him on the line long enough.”

Bill laughed. “You don’t have to worry about that. He was pretty long-winded.”

“I hope you get him!” Andrea said to Mike. “I just about went crazy thinking we’d have to move.”

“Me too,” Tracey said. “I hope you get him, Uncle Mike!”

There was a series of faint musical notes, and Andrea reached into her purse for her cell phone. “It’s Norman,” she said, glancing at the display. “I wonder why he’s calling me? I’ll run out to the lobby and talk to him. The reception’s better out there.”

Hannah thought she knew why Norman was calling Andrea. Her own cell phone was still plugged into the charger in the kitchen.

“I have some news,” Michelle said. “Sherri Connors called me this morning. She’s back with Kyle and they’re getting married.”

“Even though the baby’s not his?” Delores asked.

Hannah could tell her mother regretted the question the moment after she’d asked it. She glanced at Tracey and frowned.

“It’s okay, Grandma,” Tracey said, jumping to her feet. “I’ll just go find Mom in the lobby so you can talk about those things.”

As Tracey rushed off, Delores just shook her head. “I forget she’s just a child,” she said.

“I’m not sure she is,” Hannah commented, and then she turned to Michelle. “Kyle doesn’t mind that the baby’s not his?”

“He says as long as the baby’s Sherri’s, that’s enough for him. And since they’re getting married right away and he’ll be listed as the husband on the birth certificate, he’ll be the baby’s legal father.”

Andrea came back into the dining room, followed by Tracey. “Norman’s on his way, but he had an unexpected visitor, somebody he knows from dental school. I told him his friend was welcome to join us. I hope that was okay.”

“Of course it is,” Delores said. “We’ll just set up an extra chair next to Norman. Now would everyone like to know why I arranged this little party?”

“Because Perry’s locked up and I’m still alive?” Hannah guessed.

“Partially, dear. Would anyone else like to guess?”

“Because Sally has pork with baby asparagus and honey mustard glaze on the menu?” Mike asked.

There was laughter around the table, and Hannah turned to her brother-in-law. “Aren’t you going to guess, Bill?”

“That wouldn’t be fair. Andrea and I already know.”

“So do I.” Tracey said. “But I can’t tell. I promised Grandma.”

“Tell us, Mother,” Hannah urged.

“All right then. Carrie and Earl called me from Rome last night. They thought it would be fun if I flew to join them for the last week of their honeymoon. All four of us are going to explore the city together. They already booked us a room next to theirs.”

There was silence around the table. Delores had been seen with three eligible men in the past week. Was she going to go to Rome with Joe Dietz? Bud Hauge? Doc Knight? It was clear no one wanted to ask her.

Hannah knew she was stuck with that unenviable duty when everyone turned to look at her. “Okay. I’ll ask. Who’s us, Mother?”

Delores nodded at Tracey, and Tracey jumped up from her seat. “It’s me! I’m going to fly to Rome with Grandma. Isn’t that exciting?”

The waitress arrived right on cue with two chilled bottles in an ice bucket. There was champagne for those who wished to imbibe, and sparkling apple juice for those who didn’t. As the glasses were filled with one or the other, the conversation turned to Rome and what Tracey could expect to see there. They were just talking about the famous fountain when Norman walked into the dining room with an attractive dark-haired woman on his arm.

“That’s his friend from dental school?” Mike asked.

“He didn’t tell me she was a woman,” Andrea said, looking over at Hannah apologetically.

Hannah knew what to do. She pasted a perfectly composed, perfectly polite smile on her face. Maintaining her composure shouldn’t be that difficult for someone who’d just been locked in a mausoleum and almost starved to death. But it was that difficult. She wasn’t sure exactly where her heart was located in her chest, but she knew it hurt a lot.

“Hi, everyone,” Norman said, stepping forward to greet them. “I’d like you all to meet my new partner at Rhodes Dental Clinic, Doctor Beverly Thorndike.”

GOOD DOGGY CAKE

Preheat oven to 350 F., rack in the middle position.

½ pound lean ground beef

½ pound ground chicken

½ pound ground turkey

8-ounce package cream cheese

4-ounce package liverwurst

You will need 3 pie plates, or 3 layer cake pans to make this cake. (I used disposable pie pans.)

Spray the 3 pans with Pam or another nonstick cooking spray.

Press the half-pound of lean ground beef into the bottom of the first pan, spreading it out evenly.

Press the half-pound of ground chicken into the bottom of the second pan, spreading it out evenly.

Press the half-pound of ground turkey into the bottom of the third pan, spreading it out evenly.

Bake the ground meat in the 3 pans at 350 degrees F. for 25 to 30 minutes.

Use a turkey baster to suck out the grease and dispose of it. Let the meat cool completely in the pans.

When the meat is cool, it’s time to make the frosting. Place the cream cheese and the liverwurst in a medium-sized, microwave-safe bowl. Heat them together on HIGH for 30 seconds.

Stir the cream cheese and the liverwurst together into a paste. If it’s still too solid to stir, give it another 20 seconds on HIGH in the microwave.

Take one disk of meat out of its pan and place it on a cake plate. Spread a little of the frosting on top.

Take another disk of meat, put it on top of the first, and spread a little more frosting on top.

Take the third disk of meat, put it on top of the second, and spread a little more frosting on top. Cover this disk completely with frosting since it’ll be the top of your cake.

Use a spatula or frosting knife to spread frosting on the sides of your cake.

If you’d like to decorate your cake, use little Milk Bones. They come in colors. Arrange them artistically on top of the cake. (Actually your lucky doggy recipient won’t really care if they’re artistic or not.)

Keep this cake REFRIGERATED until you serve it to your favorite canine.

Hannah’s Note: This cake is very rich. It’s the frosting. Dole it out to your dog in small pieces.

Yield: Enough for the “good doggy” and five furry friends.

APPLE TURNOVER MURDER RECIPE INDEX

Vanilla Crack

27

Chocolate Crack

29

Chocolate Sugar Cookies

53

Marge’s Apple Turnovers

63

Mocha Nut Butterballs

78

Imperial Cereal

96

Sausage and Cheese Pancakes

107

Rose’s Zucchini Cookies

119

Chocolate Marshmallow Cookie Bars

151

Aggression Cookies

157

Wacky Cake

169

Breakfast in a Muffin

194

Sesame Seed Tea Cookies

207

Rose’s Peachy Keen Cake

215

Peachy Keen Frosting

220

Peachy Keen Glaze for Bundt Cakes

222

Sun Moon Cookies

246

Too Easy Hotdish

266

Cottage Cheese Cookies

284

Watermelon Cookies

297

Good Doggy Cake

330

Baking Conversion Chart

These conversions are approximate, but they’ll work just fine for Hannah Swensen’s recipes.

VOLUME:

U.S.

Metric

½ teaspoon

2 milliliters

1 teaspoon

5 milliliters

1 tablespoon

15 milliliters

¼ cup

50 milliliters

½ cup

75 milliliters

½ cup

125 milliliters

¾ cup

175 milliliters

1 cup

¼ liter

WEIGHT:

U.S.

Metric

1 ounce

28 grams

1 pound

454 grams

OVEN TEMPERATURE:

Degrees Fahrenheit

Degrees Centigrade

British (Regulo)Gas Mark

325 degrees F.

165 degrees C.

3

350 degrees F.

175 degrees C.

4

375 degrees F.

190 degrees C.

5

Note: Hannah’s rectangular sheet cake pan, 9 inches by 13 inches, is approximately 23 centimeters by 32.5 centimeters.

These days, everyone in Lake Eden, Minnesota isbuzzing with activity, and Hannah Swensen is noexception. But no matter how busy she may be,

Hannah can always find time to help a friend in need—especially when he’s been murdered …

Hannah Swensen has to admit that her life is pretty sweet. Things are going well in the romance department, and her bakery’s delectable confections are selling almost as fast as she can bake them. Even her good friend Claire is on Cloud Nine, head over heels with her new husband, Reverend Bob Knudson. If only they could find time to take their honeymoon!

When Bob’s childhood friend, Matthew Walters, comes to town, it seems like divine intervention. Matthew, like Bob, is a Lutheran minister with a stubborn sweet tooth. Since he’s on sabbatical, Matthew is happy to fill in for Bob while he and Claire take that long-awaited honeymoon. It sounds like the perfect plan—until Hannah finds Matthew in the rectory, face-down in a plate of Devil’s Food Cake, a single bullet in his head.

Determined to find out who killed Matthew, Hannah starts asking questions—and discovers that the good reverend wasn’t quite the saintly fellow he appeared to be. But could the gold Sacagawea coins in Sunday’s collection plate hold the key to solving the crime? Or is the murder connected to that big jewel heist out in Minneapolis? Is it possible that Matthew’s love of chocolate somehow led to his downfall? It will take some more digging to find out, but Hannah is sure of one thing: even the most half-baked murder plot can be oh so deadly …

Please turn the page for an exciting sneak peek of

Joanne Fluke’s next Hannah Swensen mystery

DEVIL’S FOOD CAKE MURDER

coming in March 2011!

Chapter One

There was absolutely nothing scary about a church in the morning. Hannah stepped onto the walkway that led from the parsonage to the side door of the church and squared her shoulders. But if there was nothing scary about the Lake Eden Holy Redeemer Lutheran Church, why was her heart racing a zillion beats a minute?

When Hannah had arrived at the parsonage only moments before, armed with a box containing four dozen Molasses Crackle Cookies for Grandma Knudson’s Bible study group, Grandma had asked Hannah for a favor. Of course Hannah had agreed. And the favor was quite simple. All Grandma wanted her to do was to go next door to the church to tell Reverend Matthew, the minister who was subbing for her grandson, that lunch was ready and he should come to the parsonage kitchen. Grandma had tried to call him to tell him herself, but Reverend Matthew hadn’t answered the phone in the church office.

Hannah avoided an icy patch on the walkway and shoved her hands into the pockets of her parka. It was a bright, sunny, winter day and as she neared the side door of church, she told herself that there were plenty of plausible reasons why Reverend Matthew hadn’t answered the phone. He could have been in another part of the church and hadn’t heard it ring. It was also possible that Grandma had mis-dialed, or another half-dozen equally reasonable explanations. Just because he hadn’t responded was no reason to suspect that there was anything wrong.

On the other hand, there could be something wrong. What if Reverend Matthew had fallen off a ladder while attempting to replace a light bulb in the heavy colored-glass fixtures that hung from the ceiling of the nave? Or how about the tempermental furnace in the church basement? Their regular minister, Reverend Knudson, was an expert at jiggling wires to fix it. What if Reverend Matthew had tried to do the same and electrocuted himself?

Hannah gave a little laugh at her overactive imagination. Chronicling all the mishaps that could have befallen the substitute minister was silly. She arrived at the side door to the church and unlocked it with the key Grandma Knudson had given her. Nothing was wrong. Everything was just fine. Reverend Matthew would greet her when she came in and they’d go back to the parsonage together.

Stale air rolled out to meet her as she pushed the door open and stepped in. It was scented with drying flowers and the faint odor of fuel oil from the furnace. Even though the inside door to the small windowless entry room was open, only feeble light filtered in from the stained glass windows that graced the walls in the body of the church. Hannah felt for the light switch but she couldn’t seem to find one. She debated the wisdom of leaving the outside door open for light and air, but then she remembered the huge heating bills that the church incurred every winter. This was the coldest February on record, and her eyes would adjust to the dimness.

It took a few moments after she’d closed the outside door, but at last she could see well enough to move forward in the crowded room. A tall dresser with wide, shallow drawers sat against the wall. It contained the sparkling white linen for communion. The top of the dresser held a large, round silver tray that had been polished to a high gleam by Hannah’s neighbors, Marguerite and Clara Hol-lenbeck. The tray was peppered with small nonnonindentations for tiny round glasses that would hold the communion wine. Another, smaller silver tray with a cover was next to the large tray, ready to receive the communion wafers.

Avoiding several boxes that jutted out into her path, Hannah moved toward the doorway and stepped into the main body of the church. That was much better! The sunlight streaming through the stained glass windows was gorgeous.

“Reverend Matthew?” she called out, but there was no answer. Her eyes scanned the rows of oaken pews, but the only things moving were tiny dust motes dancing in the beams of colored light. Hannah moved forward down the carpeted center aisle, heading straight for the church office. It was opposite the stairway that led up to the choir loft and it had been recently refurbished.

The door to the office was closed and Hannah hesitated. “Reverend Matthew?” she called out again, and followed her query by knocking softly on the door. “Are you there?”

There was no answer, Hannah felt her hearbeat quicken and there was a lump in her throat. This wasn’t good, not good at all. She wanted to turn tail and run, but that would be cowardly. What if Reverend Matthew was inside and he was injured in some way. Or he had been taken suddenly ill? Or … but she didn’t want to think about that!

She called his name again. Twice. And then she reached out with shaking fingers and turned the doorknob. It took all of her gumption to push the door open slightly, just far enough so that she could see the edge of the desk. And then a bit wider. And then …

Hannah stood stock still and stared at the sight that greeted her. Reverend Matthew was seated at the desk and it was obvious that he’d been working on next Sunday’s sermon because it was spread out on the desk in front of him. His head was resting on the pages, but he wasn’t asleep. There was something else on the sheets of paper and on the desktop in front of him. That something was blood. A lot of blood. More blood than Hannah ever would have guessed a human being could contain.

“Reverend Matthew?” she asked again, in a very quiet voice. She didn’t expect an answer and she didn’t get one. Reverend Matthew was stone cold dead.

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A HANNAH SWENSEN MYSTERY WITH RECIPES

KEY LIME PIE MURDER

JOANNE FLUKE

***You can buy dates already chopped at the grocery store if you don’t want to chop them yourself.

***—You can use fresh and peel and slice your own, or you can buy them already sliced and prepared in the ready-to-eat section at your produce counter, or you can use canned peaches.

***In her original recipe Lindy used white granulated sugar for rolling. Lisa and I use powdered sugar so that we won’t get the Spicy Dreams mixed up with the Molasses Crackles when we serve them on the same day down at The Cookie Jar.

***These are miniature chocolate chips. If you can’t find them in your area, you can use regular size chocolate chips and cut them in halves, or quarters. If you use them as is, they’ll sink to the bottom and make your cake hard to remove from the pan.

***Milky Way, Snickers, Mars Bars, or Almond Joy work well. You can use regular size candy bars (approximately 2 ounces) or the miniatures you buy in a bag to give out at Halloween. Ruby uses the regular size. If you choose to use the miniatures, they won’t take as long to fry as the larger size.

*** If you don’t have lemon zest, DO NOT substitute lime zest, especially from regular limes—it can be very bitter and the little flecks of green aren’t very appetizing.

****Key limes are difficult to find. If your store doesn’t have them, look for frozen key lime juice. If you can’t find that, just buy regular limes and juice those.

***If you’re in a hurry, you can use two frozen pie shells—just thaw them and use one for the bottom and one for the top.

*** If you think your eggs might be too small or too large, you can easily check them by mixing them up in a measuring cup. Four eggs should measure approximately one cup. If yours don’t, adjust by adding more egg or pouring some out.

***Orange zest is finely grated orange peel—only the orange part, not the white part.

***Lemon zest is finely grated lemon peel—only the yellow part, not the white part.

***If you don’t have sherry, dry white wine will work just fine. Dry vermouth is also an option. If you don’t want to use liquor of any type, you can simply add another ¼ cup milk.

***If you prefer a sweeter cookie, roll the dough balls in extra granulated sugar and flatten before baking.

KEY LIME PIE MURDER

Hannah rounded the corner and stopped short. Someone was sprawled out on the dirt. A woman. And she was perfectly motionless.

Hannah’s need to help another person in trouble drew her forward. The woman was facedown and Hannah was about to reach for her wrist to feel for a pulse when she saw the back of her head. This caused her to step back without taking her pulse or touching her. No aid she could give would make any difference. This woman was quite dead.

Hannah took one halting step closer and the key lime pie she was holding dropped from her nerveless fingers as she had an awful realization. She’d seen and admired the dress this woman was wearing no more than an hour ago.

“Hannah?” Mike’s voice rang out loud and clear. “Where are you?”

“Here,” Hannah answered, finding her voice at last.

“You sound weird. What’s the matter?”

“Dead,” she said.

“Someone’s dead? Who?”

“Willa,” Hannah said. “Willa Sunquist is dead.”

Books by Joanne Fluke

Chocolate Chip Cookie Murder

Strawberry Shortcake Murder

Blueberry Muffin Murder

Lemon Meringue Pie Murder

Fudge Cupcake Murder

Sugar Cookie Murder

Peach Cobbler Murder

Cherry Cheesecake Murder

Key Lime Pie Murder

Carrot Cake Murder

Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation

This book is dedicated to Tooni,
who truly knew how to love.

Contents

Acknowledgments

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Index of Recipes

Baking Conversion Chart

Acknowledgments

For Ruel, my in-house story editor and research team. And for the kids, who’ve learned not to count carbs out loud whenever I serve dessert.

Thank you to our friends and neighbors: Mel & Kurt, Lyn & Bill, Gina & the kids, Adrienne, Jay, Bob, Amanda, Dale, John, Trudi, Dr. Bob & Sue, Laura & Mark, Richard & Krista, Barbara & Val, Lana from Baltimore, and Mark Baker, who always shows up, sometimes twice.

Thank you to my editor-in-chief, John Scognamiglio. Without you, this wouldn’t be nearly as much fun and I’d probably fall flat on my face. The same goes for Walter, Steve, Laurie, Doug, David, Joan, Maureen, Magee, Meryl, Colleen, Jessica, Justin, Robin, Lydia, Lori, Mike, and Barbara.

Thank you to Hiro Kimura, superb cover artist, for the yummy key lime pie. And thanks to Lou Malcanji for designing such a delectable dust jacket.

Thanks also to all the other talented folks at Kensington who keep Hannah sleuthing and baking up a storm.

Thanks to John for fixing all the computer tech stuff I don’t understand and can’t spell.

Thank you to Dr. Rahhal and Trina for all that you do.

Big hugs to Terry Sommers for trying out all the recipes in this book and never once bringing up the subject of calories.

Thank you to Jamie Wallace for her superb work on my Web site MurderSheBaked.com

And many, many thanks to everyone who e-mailed or snail-mailed. I’m baking key lime pie for dessert tonight. How about you?

Chapter One

At precisely eight forty-five on the second Monday morning in June, Hannah Swensen took a number from the deli-style dispenser mounted on a pole next to the secretary’s desk and plunked herself down in one of the nondescript chairs in the nondescript waiting room to wait her turn.

It was hot and muggy, standard fare for this time of year. While other states boasted of fish that jumped, living that was easy, and cotton that was high, summertime in Minnesota was just the opposite. The muggy heat caused fish to lurk at the bottom of the lake, totally unmoved by even the tastiest bait, and the living was far from easy, especially if you owned a family farm. The corn might be knee high by the Fourth of July, if it was a good year, but the only thing that was high in the second week of June was the humidity.

A low rumble made Hannah frown. She hoped the sound came from one of the big trucks she’d seen delivering carnival rides to the midway and not from gathering storm clouds. This was the first day of the Tri-County Fair and the gates opened at noon. The coming week would be like a holiday, with hundreds passing through the turnstiles to look at the exhibits, enjoy the rides on the midway, and attend the rodeo that was held every afternoon.

Hannah brushed several orange cat hairs from her tan slacks. They landed on the seat of the orange plastic chair next to her. Although she vacuumed every weekend, it was a losing battle. Her orange and white tomcat, Moishe, contributed twice as much hair as she collected in the bag of her vacuum. There were times when Hannah seriously considered installing an orange and white carpet, buying orange and white furniture, and eating only orange and white food during the shedding season. It wouldn’t cut down on the cat hair, but it would be camouflaged. At least she wouldn’t be aware of how many strands she was walking on, sitting on, and ingesting.

This type of chair would work. Hannah couldn’t even see where the cat hairs had landed. But spending more time in a chair like this was something to be avoided. It was a clone to every other molded plastic chair in every other waiting room in the state. Perhaps it was true that form followed function, but in this case it was horribly uncomfortable and as ugly as sin.

Rather than glance at her watch for the third time in as many minutes, Hannah thought about why so many businesses bought these chairs for their waiting rooms. The plastic was impervious to spills and scratches, and they did add a splash of color to an otherwise drab room. The chairs were bolted to rails that conjoined them as sextuplets. Hannah supposed that this was meant to discourage theft, but she seriously doubted that anyone would want to steal them anyway.

Sitting up straight didn’t help to relieve the strain on her back, so Hannah tried slouching. That was even worse. A little notice stamped on the back of the chair in front of her said that it had been designed to fit the average body. And that brought up another question. Was anybody truly average? Average was a statistical tool that took tall people over six feet, added them to short people under five feet, and came up with an average of five and a half feet. Hannah knew from bitter experience not to buy slacks marked average. They were too short for tall people and too long for short people. Perhaps somewhere there might be a handful of people the slacks would fit, but Hannah had never met them. And if these chairs were designed for an average body, it was clear that the model the manufacturer had used bore little resemblance to Hannah. Looking around her, Hannah suspected that she wasn’t alone. Everyone who was waiting to see the secretary at the Tri-County Fairgrounds looked just as uncomfortable as she did.

“Swensen?” the secretary called out, and Hannah walked over to take the seat in front of the secretary’s desk that had been recently vacated by a man in work clothes and a hard hat. “I need some information from you before I can issue your pass.”

Hannah waited while the woman opened a drawer and pulled out a book of bound and printed forms. She flipped it open, retrieved her pen, and looked up at Hannah. “Your full name please?”

“Hannah Louise Swensen.”

“Marital status?”

“Single.”

“Age?”

“Thirty.” Hannah gave a little sigh. This was June and her thirty-first birthday was in July. When did a woman become a spinster? Had it happened last year when she hit thirty? Or would the women’s movement grant her a reprieve so she wouldn’t enter the old maid’s category until she reached forty? This was a question she could ponder by herself, but she certainly wouldn’t discuss it with her mother! Delores Swensen wasn’t reticent about reminding her eldest daughter that her biological clock was ticking.

“Street address?”

“Forty-six thirty-seven Maytime Lane,” Hannah replied, smiling a bit as she gave the address of her condo complex. Maybe she was a spinster but she owned her own home and business.

“City and state?”

“Lake Eden, Minnesota.”

“And your reason for applying for a pass?”

As usual, she’d probably bit off more than she could chew. But what else could she have done when Pam Baxter, the Jordan High Home Economics teacher, had called her in a panic at six o’clock this morning to say that Edna Ferguson had been taken to Lake Eden Memorial Hospital for an emergency appendectomy? Pam had practically begged Hannah to fill in on the judging panel, and of course she’d agreed. “I’m a last-minute replacement on the panel to judge the baked goods at the Creative Arts Building,” she said.

“Lucky you!” The secretary looked up with a smile that instantly humanized her.

“Really?”

“You’d better believe it! That’s a job I wouldn’t mind having. I love desserts and I need to lose a few pounds.”

Hannah blinked. “You want to judge the baked goods contest because you need to lose a few pounds?”

“That’s right. My aunt lost thirty pounds when she took a job at a chocolate factory. They let her eat all the candy she wanted, and after the first couple of days, she stopped eating it. She’s been retired for ten years, and she still can’t stand the sight of chocolate.”

“That wouldn’t work for me,” Hannah told her.

“How do you know?”

“I own a bakery and I still love desserts.”

The secretary sighed as she handed Hannah her pass. “It probably wouldn’t work for me, either. Say…is your bakery called The Cookie Jar?”

“That’s right.”

“Then I’m almost positive you’re going to win blue!”

“Blue?”

“A blue ribbon. I don’t mean you personally, but the man who took your picture for the photography exhibit. I saw it last night and it’s the best in the show.”

Less than five minutes later, Hannah was staring at the entry that the secretary thought would take first place in the photography exhibit. It was a candid picture, she hadn’t even realized it was being taken, and it was undoubtedly the most flattering photo anyone had ever taken of her.

Hannah felt the smile begin in her mind, spread out to her face, and flow right on down to the soles of her feet. She felt as if she were smiling all over as she gazed at the photo. It was a wonderful picture, and she could hardly believe that she was the subject! First of all, her hair wasn’t sticking up in wiry curls the way it usually did, and it looked more auburn than red. And if that weren’t enough to please her, she appeared at least ten pounds thinner than she actually was. Both of her eyes were open, her pose wasn’t awkward or contrived, and the half-smile on her lips was intriguing. This photo was a miracle, and Hannah knew it. Any photographer who could make her look good deserved a blue ribbon and then some!

Norman Rhodes had taken it, of course. Hannah’s sometimes boyfriend divided his time between his vocation of dentistry, his avocation of photography, and his habit of being a prince of a guy Hannah knew she should probably marry. Unfortunately, she couldn’t seem to do it, even though her mind told her it was the smart choice. She’d come to the conclusion that she simply wasn’t ready for marriage, and reminders from her mother about biological clocks shouldn’t force her into walking down the aisle until the time was right for her.

Hannah shook herself mentally and glanced at her watch. It was nine-thirty and she had to meet Pam and her teacher’s assistant, Willa Sunquist, at ten. She didn’t have time to think about marriage now.

She turned her attention back to the photograph. It was huge, two feet by three feet, and Norman had taken it at The Cookie Jar. The sign painted on the window was clearly visible in the mirror behind the counter, and that must be the way the secretary had recognized her. Hannah was standing behind the counter, looking off into the distance, and there was a very loving, almost beatific expression on her face. It was clear she was thinking about someone or something she loved, and Hannah wished she could remember who or what it was.

There was a calendar on the wall to the left of the counter, and Hannah noticed the date. Norman had taken this photograph when Ross Barton and his movie crew were in Lake Eden. The clock on the wall told her that it was almost noon, the time when Ross and his crew arrived to have lunch at The Cookie Jar. Hannah guessed she could have been thinking about Ross, her old college friend who’d turned out to be much more than that.

Then there was Mike Kingston. She could have been thinking of Lake Eden’s most eligible bachelor, the best-looking detective in the Winnetka County Sheriff’s Department. Thoughts of Mike always put a smile on her face and made her heart race harder in her chest. Or perhaps she’d been thinking of Norman. While he wasn’t heart-stopping handsome, he was kind, and sweet, and sexy, and gentle, and…

“Good heavens!” Hannah exclaimed under her breath. Since she didn’t remember why she’d been smiling, her smile would just have to remain a mystery. She gave one last look and turned to head for the Creative Arts Building, reminding herself that no one knew why the Mona Lisa had been smiling, either.

Hannah took a shortcut through the food court, an area with picnic tables that was ringed by food and snack stands. Some of them were getting ready to open, and Hannah stopped in front of a sign that read, DEEP-FRIED CANDY BARS.

One glance at the description that was written in smaller type near the bottom of the sign and Hannah’s mouth started to water. The candy bars were impaled on sticks, chilled thoroughly, dipped into a sweet batter that was a cousin to the one used for funnel cakes, and then deep-fried to a golden brown. The booth was called Sinful Pleasures, and that was entirely appropriate. There should have been a warning sign that read, NO REDEEMING NUTRITIONAL MERIT WHATSOEVER, but Hannah doubted that would stop anyone from ordering. The choices of candy bar were varied, and she was in the process of debating the virtues of a Milky Way over a Snickers bar when she heard a voice calling her name.

Hannah turned to see her sister Andrea running toward her across the food court. Her face was pink from exertion, and wisps of blond hair had escaped the elaborate twist she’d pinned up on the top of her head. She was wearing a perfectly ordinary outfit, light blue slacks with a matching sleeveless blouse, but she still looked like a fashion model.

“Amazing,” Hannah muttered under her breath. “Totally amazing.”

“What’s amazing?” Andrea asked, arriving at her side.

“You look gorgeous.”

“You need glasses. I’m wearing my oldest clothes and my hair’s a mess.”

“It doesn’t matter. You still look gorgeous.”

“It’s nice of you to say that, but I don’t have time to talk about that now. I tracked you down because I need your help and I’m in a real rush.” Andrea stopped and stared as someone opened the shutters on the fried candy bar booth from the inside. “I read about those deep-fried candy bars in the Lake Eden Journal. You’re not going to order one, are you?”

“They’re not really open yet,” Hannah hedged. “None of the food booths open until noon.”

“Well, that’s a relief!” Andrea fanned her face with her hand. “I don’t have to tell you that they’re loaded with calories, and you still haven’t lost the weight you put on over Christmas, do I?”

“Absolutely not,” Hannah said. Wild horses wouldn’t get her to admit to Andrea that she was sorely tempted to come back when the fair officially opened and order one. “Why do you need my help?”

“Let’s sit down and I’ll show you.”

Andrea led the way to one of the picnic tables that sat in the shade of a huge elm. She brushed off the top and opened the file folder she was carrying.

“Photos for the Mother-Daughter contest?” Hannah stated the obvious as Andrea laid out four different poses of her and Hannah’s oldest niece, Tracey.

“That’s right. Norman dropped them off last night and I can’t decide which one is the best. I have to turn it in at ten this morning,” Andrea frowned as she glanced at her watch, “and I’ve got only twelve minutes to take it to the secretary’s office.”

Hannah looked at each photograph in turn. They were all good, but one was a smidgeon better. “This one,” she said, pointing it out.

“Why that one?”

“Because your heads are tilted at exactly the same angle.”

“That’s true,” Andrea said, but she didn’t look happy. “How about the one on the end?”

“It’s a good picture, but the resemblance isn’t as striking. Tracey’s looking straight at the camera, and you’re looking off to the side.”

“I know. I noticed that. It’s just…” Andrea’s voice trailed off, and she gave a little sigh.

“It’s just what?”

“My hair looks better in the picture on the end.”

“True, but it’s not a beauty pageant. It’s a mother-daughter look-alike contest.”

“You’re right, of course.” Andrea gathered up the photos and put them back in the folder. “I’ll use the one you picked.”

Hannah’s sisterly radar went on full alert. Something was wrong. Andrea was worried about how she looked, and she’d mentioned her hair twice in the past three minutes. “What’s wrong with your hair?” she asked, forgetting to even try to phrase the question tactfully.

“I knew it!” Andrea wailed, and her eyes filled with tears. “You noticed and that means everyone in town will notice. Bill said he couldn’t see any more, but he must have missed one.”

“One what?”

Andrea took a deep breath for courage and then she blurted it out. “A gray hair! I’m going gray, Hannah, and I’m only twenty-six. It’s just awful, especially since Mother isn’t even gray yet!”

She would be without the wonders of modern cosmetology, Hannah thought, but she didn’t say it. She’d promised Delores she’d never tell that an expensive hair color called Raven Wing was partially responsible for her mother’s youthful appearance. Wishing for the wisdom of the Sphinx, or at least that of a clinical psychiatrist, Hannah waded in with both feet. Her goal was to make Andrea feel better even if it took a little white lie to accomplish it. “Oatmeal,” she said, remembering the extra bag of cookies she was carrying in her large shoulder bag.

“What?”

“Mother swears oatmeal prevents aging. She eats it every day.”

“I know it’s supposed to be good for your cholesterol, and some people use it for facials.” Andrea looked thoughtful. “Does Mother really believe that it keeps her from going gray?”

“Absolutely. But whatever you do, you can’t mention it to her.”

“Why not?”

“Because we’re not supposed to believe she’s old enough to have gray hair. If we mention it, she’ll take it as an insult.”

Andrea thought about that for a moment. “You’re right. I’ll never mention it.”

“So are you going to try it?”

Andrea made a face. “I hate oatmeal. Remember how you used to try to trick me into eating it by sprinkling on brown sugar and making a face out of chocolate chips on the top?”

“I remember. And it worked because you always cleaned your bowl.”

“You only thought it worked. I ate off the brown sugar and the chocolate chips, and then I gave the bowl to Bruno when you weren’t looking.”

“You did?” Hannah was disillusioned. She thought she’d been so clever in getting her sister to eat oatmeal, and the Swensen family dog had gotten it instead.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have told you,” Andrea said, watching the play of emotions that crossed Hannah’s face.

“That’s okay.” Hannah began to smile as she thought of the perfect ploy. She’d get Andrea to eat oatmeal now, every single day, to make up for her deception! “Bruno was a gorgeous dog. I used to wish I had hair that color.”

“I know. And his coat was so soft. I still get a little lump in my throat every time I see an Irish Setter.”

Hannah took a deep breath. She was about to drop the other shoe. “I’m glad you told me about the oatmeal.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because now I understand why Bruno never went gray. It must have been the oatmeal you gave him. Too bad you didn’t eat it.”

Andrea groaned. “If I’d known, I would have. And now I suppose it’s too late!”

“Not necessarily. Mother never used to eat it when she was young.”

“Really?”

“You were probably too little to remember, but all she used to have for breakfast was coffee. She said she never got hungry until noon, but I think that was just an excuse.”

“For what?”

“For not admitting that she was on a diet. Mother put on a little weight after Michelle was born and she had a hard time taking it off.”

“So when did she start eating breakfast?”

“It was after I went off to college. I’m not positive because I wasn’t there, but I think she started eating oatmeal for breakfast right after she got her first gray hair.”

Andrea shuddered slightly. “Okay, I’ll just have to do the same thing. It’s close to a toss-up, but I’m pretty sure that I hate gray hair more than I hate oatmeal.”

“Atta girl!” Hannah reached into her purse and pulled out a bag of cookies. “And just to make that oatmeal more palatable, here’s a present for you.”

“Cookies?”

“Karen Lood’s Swedish Oatmeal Cookies. They’re authentic and they’re absolutely delicious. Mother got the recipe from Karen before she moved out of town.”

“Thanks, Hannah. I don’t usually like oatmeal cookies, but they’re bound to be better than eating oatmeal in a bowl.”

“Taste one.”

Andrea pulled out a cookie and took a bite. She chewed and then she smiled. “Good! I like these, Hannah!”

“I knew you would. They’re a really simple cookie, and sometimes simple is best.”

“Maybe this is crazy, but these remind me of your Old-Fashioned Sugar Cookies.”

“It’s not crazy at all. Both of them are buttery, crunchy, and sweet. Just make sure you have three a day, and come down to the shop for more when you run out. We bake them every day in the summer. There’s no chips to melt and they hold up really well in hot weather.” Hannah glanced down at her watch and started to frown. “You’d better get a move on, Andrea. You don’t want to be late turning in that photo.”

“Right.” Andrea stood up and took a step away from the picnic table. Then she turned to smile at Hannah. “Thanks, Hannah. No matter what’s bothering me, you always make me feel better.”

Hannah smiled back. Andrea could be a pain at times, especially when she went into a tirade about the unfashionable way Hannah dressed, or the fact that she was a bit too plump. But on that giant tally sheet sisters kept in their heads, she’d won this round hands down.

SWEDISH OATMEAL COOKIES
(Karen Lood)

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F., rack in middle position.

1 cup butter (2 sticks, ½ pound)

¾ cup white (granulated) sugar

1 teaspoon baking soda

1 cup flour (no need to sift)

2 cups oatmeal (I used Quaker Oats—Quick)

1 egg yolk

Melt the butter in a microwave safe bowl on HIGH for approximately 1½ minutes. Let it cool to room temperature. Mix in the white sugar.

Add the baking soda, flour, and oatmeal. Stir thoroughly.

Beat the egg yolk with a fork until it’s thoroughly mixed. Add it to the bowl and stir until it’s incorporated.

Grease (or spray with Pam or other nonstick cooking spray) a standard-sized cookie sheet. Make small balls of dough and place them on the cookie sheet, 12 to a sheet. Press them down with a fork in a crisscross pattern the way you’d do for peanut butter cookies.

Bake at 350 degrees F. for 10 to 12 minutes or until they’re just starting to brown around the edges. Let the cookies cool for a minute or two on the sheets and then transfer them to a wire rack to complete cooling.

Yield: approximately 5 dozen, depending on cookie size.

Chapter Two

“Did I say thank you for the cookies?” Pam Baxter, the head of the three-woman judging panel, reached for another cookie.

“You did. About six times.”

“And did I?” Willa Sunquist asked, reaching in right after Pam.

“Seven times, I think.”

“What did you call them again?”

“Pineapple Delights. We got the idea from Lisa’s aunt, Irma Baker. She uses dried apricots too, but Lisa changed it to all pineapple because Herb’s crazy about pineapple.”

“Well it’s a cinch you’ll win the cookie competition!” Willa declared.

“No, I won’t. I run a bakery and coffee shop, and according to the rules, I’m not allowed to enter.”

“That’s a break for the rest of the contestants,” Willa said with a laugh. A nice-looking woman in her late twenties, Willa had just finished the school year as Pam’s classroom aide. The job hadn’t paid much, but Pam and George had given Willa a break by renting their basement apartment to her at a ridiculously low price so that she could finish her teaching degree at Tri-County College.

“Do you have any questions about the rules, Hannah?” Pam asked, closing her slim booklet titled, Guidelines for Judging Baked Goods.

“I don’t think so. The score sheets spell everything out. We just rate each entry on the variables, using a scale from one to ten.”

“And when we’re finished with an entry, Pam collects the score sheets,” Willa said. “At the end of the night, we add up the numbers, enter them on the master score sheet, and Pam authenticates it by signing her name.”

Pam glanced down at the sample score sheet that had come with the booklet. “Do you have any questions about the variables?”

“Just one,” Willa said with a frown. “What’s the difference between presentation and appearance?”

Pam gave her a quick smile. “I asked the same thing! Presentation is how the entry looks when we first see it on the plate or platter. Appearance is what it looks like when it’s sampled.”

“That makes sense,” Hannah said. “The decoration and frosting on a cake would be judged under presentation. We don’t judge appearance until we actually cut the cake and see how it slices and looks inside.”

“How about pies?” Willa asked, still looking a bit confused.

“We rate the top crust or the meringue under the presentation variable. And we don’t rate appearance until we actually dish out a slice and see if the custard slumps, or the berries are too juicy.”

“Got it,” Willa said. “How about breads and coffeecakes? That’s what we’re judging tonight.”

“If it’s been baked in a pan, we judge presentation on how evenly the top crust and the sides are browned. If it’s a coffeecake and it’s frosted or studded with fruit, we rate how that’s done. The same goes for sweet rolls, sticky buns, and doughnuts.”

“Okay.” Willa glanced down at her booklet again. “Muffins and quick breads would be exactly the same, but how do you judge cookies on presentation and appearance? It’s not like you slice them or anything.”

“Hannah?” Pam turned to her.

“It’ll be harder, but it can be done. Some cookies are frosted or decorated with sugar. That would be presentation. Others might be decorated with nuts and dried fruits. And if the cookie isn’t decorated at all, we’ll have to judge the presentation on how expertly the baker browned it in the oven.”

“How about appearance?” Pam asked, looking almost as puzzled as Willa.

“We’ll have to bite into the cookie or break it apart to judge appearance. If it has a filling, we can judge how well that’s placed in the cookie. If it’s chocolate chip, or chopped nuts, we can judge how many there are and whether the cookie might need more, or less. With cookies I think we’ll have to take it on a case-by-case basis.”

“Good thing you’re filling in as a judge,” Willa said. “Judging cookies sounds really tricky.”

“Maybe, but it’ll be fun. What time should we meet tonight?”

Pam glanced down at the schedule. “It has to be after six. That’s the cutoff for the day’s entries.” She turned to Willa. “You’re through at eight, aren’t you, Willa?”

“Yes. I can come right over here after the pageant. Once the curtain closes, the girls are free to go home.”

Hannah’s ears perked up. “Are you talking about the Miss Tri-County Beauty Pageant?”

“Yes, I’m the chaperone.”

“My baby sister’s a contestant,” Hannah told her. “Michelle Swensen?”

“I saw her name on the roster.”

“If you get the chance, say hello from me and tell her I’ll be by to see her at Mother’s when I’m through judging. She came in on the bus early this morning.”

“From college?” Willa guessed.

“Macalester. She’s a theater major. I wonder if she’s got a chance of winning.”

“Everybody’s got a chance. Your sister’s pretty. I saw her picture. But the judging covers a lot more than that.”

“Talent? Personality?” Pam looked puzzled when Willa shook her head.

“We have those, too, but they’re a part of any beauty contest. Just like the rest, we have one night for evening gowns, one for swimsuits, one for the talent showcase, and one for the interviews with the announcer. The fifth night is just for fun, and the girls perform a couple of musical numbers for the audience. And then on Saturday night, we have the pageant parade, and the judges announce the winner and the runners-up, along with the special awards.”

“So what makes Miss Tri-County different?” Hannah wanted to know.

“We also assess a girl’s character. Just take a look at my grid,” she said, pulling a clipboard out of her backpack and handing it over so that Hannah and Pam could see. “The girls are expected to get here by noon and check in with me at the auditorium. They have to make themselves available at various venues, hold interviews with the press and the beauty contest judges in the afternoon, and take part in the formal pageant in front of the audience every night from seven to eight. That’s a lot more than just looking good in a bathing suit.”

“It’s an eight-hour day,” Hannah agreed.

“It’s meant to be. The pageant organizer retired to Arizona, but I talked to her by phone. She told me that the activities planned for the contestants are a test of their maturity and reliability. They’re judged on those categories, too, and that’s why I have the grid.”

Hannah glanced down at the grid again. “I see the names of the contestants. They’re written here in the left margin. But what are the numbers in the columns at the top?”

“Each number represents an attribute. They’re coded so if someone sneaks a look at my clipboard, it won’t show how any individual contestant is doing. They’ll see checkmarks, but they won’t know what they represent.”

“I know you can’t tell us the code,” Pam said, “but could you give us an idea of the categories?”

“Sure. One number stands for complaints. Every time a girl complains about going to a venue, or talking to the press, or how she’s sick to death of smiling and she wishes she hadn’t entered the contest in the first place, I put a checkmark in the complaint category.”

“That makes sense,” Hannah said. “Nobody likes a whiner. What are some of the other categories?”

“Another number stands for being tardy. If a girl is late to any scheduled activity, I put a checkmark in that column. There’s another code for breaking the rules.”

“For instance?” Pam asked.

“Like swearing. The girls aren’t allowed to swear while they’re wearing their contestant ID badges. That’s because younger girls look up to them and we don’t want our contestants to set a bad example. If they forget and get five checkmarks in the swearing category, I have to disqualify them.”

“So some checkmarks are weighted more than others?” Hannah asked.

“Definitely. If a girl does something illegal, she’s immediately disqualified. That one’s a no-brainer. But she gets more than one chance with things that aren’t so serious, like being late and not showing up for a planned event.”

“Sounds complicated,” Pam said.

“Not really. It’s just like life. The consequences for some things are worse than the consequences for others.”

“So you think it’s fairer than other beauty contests?” Hannah asked, reading between the lines.

“I think so. As a rule, I don’t like beauty contests, but this one’s the best I’ve seen. Each girl gets marked in exactly the same way. If her total adds up to the wrong number, she’s gone.”

“Do you have to tell a contestant when she’s disqualified?” Hannah asked.

“Yes.”

“That must be tough.”

“It must be, but I agreed to do it when I took the job. I’m hoping that I won’t have to disqualify anybody. I’m giving every girl a copy of the rules, so it’s not like they won’t know. And I’m planning to tell them that I’ll be keeping track of their behavior on my clipboard. I’m even going to warn them when they’re one checkmark away from disqualification. I don’t think it can be any fairer than that.”

“I have to stop by the Cookie Nook booth and see if they need more supplies,” Hannah said as they walked out of the Creative Arts Building.

“Is that Mayor Bascomb’s booth?” Willa asked.

“Technically it’s the Lake Eden Chamber of Commerce booth, but Mayor Bascomb’s the one who’s running it.”

“Must be an election year,” Pam said, grinning.

“It is,” Hannah confirmed, “but he’s running again, unopposed.”

“Do you think anyone will ever challenge him?” Willa asked.

Both Hannah and Pam shook their heads.

“Never?” Willa persisted.

“I doubt it,” Hannah answered. “Everybody agrees that he’s doing a fine job running Lake Eden.”

“And nobody else seems to want the job,” Pam pointed out.

“I can understand that!” Hannah gave a little laugh. “If something goes wrong, the first person people call is Mayor Bascomb.”

“You’re right,” Willa said. “Remember when the power went out in our classroom and I went to report it to Mr. Purvis? The first thing he did was to ask Charlotte to call Mayor…”

Willa stopped in her tracks. She gave a strangled gasp and her face turned so pale, Hannah reached out to grab her arm. “What’s wrong?”

“I…I…”

“Are you in pain?” Pam asked, grabbing Willa’s other arm.

“No! I just…have to sit down.”

“Help her around the corner to the food court,” Hannah said, taking charge. “I’ll get her some water.”

Hannah rushed up to the nearest booth and got a cup of water. On her way back, she looked to see if she could spot anything that might have startled Willa. The only thing happening was a roping demonstration on one of the outdoor stages. Several cowboys from the rodeo were doing rope tricks and teaching them to the 4-H kids.

“Thanks, Hannah,” Willa said when Hannah got to the table and handed her the cup of water. “I’m not sure what happened. I just felt a little faint there for a second.”

“Did you eat breakfast?” Pam asked.

“No, but I had lots of Hannah’s cookies and I’m not a bit hungry. I think it was the sun. It was beating down on the top of my head, and I started feeling a little woozy.”

“That could do it,” Pam said, nodding quickly. “We’ll just sit here for another couple of minutes, and then I’m taking you to the booth that sells hats.”

“But really, Pam. I don’t need…”

“Yes, you do,” Pam interrupted her. “And I’m going to buy it for you. No way do I want one of my judges quitting because of sunstroke!”

“So we all got hats.” Hannah wound up her story and handed Lisa a bag. “I got one for you, too. They’re cute and they were really cheap and they had a two-fer going. The second one was only a dollar.”

“Thanks, Hannah,” Lisa said, and she looked absolutely delighted as she opened the bag and pulled out the white straw hat with red flowers around the brim. “It’s just great.”

Hannah smiled. Once she’d left the hat booth, she’d checked in with Mayor Bascomb and agreed to deliver ten dozen more Pineapple Delights. Then she’d driven straight back to The Cookie Jar to help Lisa handle the afternoon rush.

“So where is everybody?” Lisa asked, lifting her coffee mug to take another sip of the strong coffee their customers called Swedish Plasma. “Not that I’m complaining, of course.”

“Me neither,” Hannah said, lapsing into a colloquialism she seldom used. They were sitting at their favorite table in the back of the coffee shop, enjoying the fact everyone in town seemed to think that it was too early for a lunch cookie and too late for a breakfast cookie.

“So do you want to stay out here to wait for customers while I mix up more Pineapple Delights? Or would you rather do it yourself and make me sit on the edge of my chair out here?”

“Huh?” Hannah blinked hard as she stared at her petite partner. She hadn’t gotten much sleep last night, and she was having trouble keeping her eyes open. Lisa was wearing one of their serving aprons with their logo printed on the bib, the ties wrapped twice around her waist. Hannah blinked again. The cookie in their logo, the one with the bite missing, was shimmering like a mirage.

“You’d better stay here, Hannah. Put your head down on the table and take a snooze. Everybody’s out at the fair anyway, and if friends come in, they’ll help themselves to coffee and leave the money on the counter.”

Hannah knew that Lisa was right. She hadn’t slept well last night because she was worried about Moishe. Her feline roommate usually came to bed with her, snuggled for a second or two, and then moved down to his favorite place at the foot of the bed. But last night Moishe hadn’t come to bed. He’d stayed out in the living room all night, and Hannah had gotten up several times to check on him. Since she’d found him staring out the window and he hadn’t seemed to be in any distress, she’d gone back to bed and slept fitfully for the rest of the night.

“Deal,” Hannah said, giving her partner a grateful smile. “Have I told you lately that you’re a gem?”

“Only last week, and I hope I’m a sapphire.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s my gemstone. I just love the blue ones. They’re so pretty.”

And with that, Lisa headed off to the kitchen, leaving Hannah to gratefully comply with the urge to rest her head on her folded arms. It was exactly what she’d done in her eight o’clock geography class during her first semester at college. The professor had used slides of maps to illustrate his lectures. He’d dimmed the lights and Hannah had immediately nodded off. She’d slept through every lecture, and it was only by the kind intervention and last minute cramming from a classmate who liked the cookies she brought for their study sessions, that she’d managed to pass the course.

PINEAPPLE DELIGHTS

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F., rack in the middle position.

2 cups butter (4 sticks, one pound—melted)

2 cups brown sugar

2 cups white (granulated) sugar

4 eggs—beaten (just beat them up in a glass with a fork)

1 teaspoon baking powder

1 teaspoon baking soda

1 teaspoon salt

2 teaspoons pineapple extract (if you can’t find it, you can use vanilla)

4 cups flour

2½ cups chopped sweetened dried pineapple (measure AFTER chopping—if you can’t find pineapple, you can substitute any dried fruit chopped in chocolate chip sized pieces)

½ cup chopped coconut flakes (measure AFTER chopping)

3 cups rolled oats (uncooked oatmeal—I used Quaker Oats Quick 1-Minute in the round paper can that you save, but you don’t know why)

Melt the butter in a large microwave-safe bowl. (About 3 minutes on HIGH.) Add the sugars and let it cool a bit. Then add the beaten eggs, baking powder, baking soda, salt, and pineapple extract. Mix in the flour. Then add the chopped pineapple, chopped coconut, and rolled oats, mixing them in thoroughly. The dough will be quite stiff.

Drop by teaspoon onto a greased cookie sheet, 12 to a sheet. (I roll mine in a ball so the cookies turn out nice and round.)

Bake at 350 degrees F. for 12 to 15 minutes. Cool on the cookie sheet for 2 minutes and then remove them to a wire rack to cool completely.

These freeze really well if you roll them in foil and put them in a freezer bag.

Chapter Three

Uh-oh! There was Mike Kingston and there was Norman Rhodes, and they were both waiting for her at the altar! There was going to be a fight right here in church, and it was all her fault. She must have done something incredibly stupid and accepted both of their proposals!

They didn’t sound angry. She could hear them talking, and they seemed perfectly friendly. Mike said something and Norman laughed. They were getting along like best buddies, and that was fine with her. At least she wouldn’t have to choose between them. The laws must have changed so that she could have two husbands instead of just one.

Norman said something about coffee, and he walked over to the counter that had replaced the front pew. It was where Priscilla Knudson, the reverend’s grandmother, usually sat, and Hannah hoped that she was all right. Even a summer cold could be dangerous for a lady in her eighties.

There was a coffee pot behind the counter, and Hannah wondered how the church elders felt about that. Coffee in the basement or at the very back of the church might be welcome, but this was up at the front and it was sure to disrupt Reverend Knudson’s sermons. Of course it could have been installed specifically for her wedding. Everyone knew how much she loved coffee, and Holy Redeemer Lutheran had made exceptions for brides before. Just last month Reverend Knudson had given Annice Borge permission to hold her little teacup poodle when she took her vows.

The coffee smelled wonderful. Hannah felt her nose twitch, and her mouth began to water in anticipation. Coffee was one of her favorite things, and she could really use a cup about now. Would it be a terrible breach of etiquette for the bride to make an early appearance, just so she could get a cup of coffee? Or should she ask Mike and Norman? Except they didn’t sound like Mike and Norman anymore. One of them sounded like a woman, and the other one sounded like a man. They must be joking around about something.

“Hannah? I brought you some coffee.”

Norman’s voice was still high-pitched, but she didn’t care about that. He’d actually read her mind! Somehow she’d managed to communicate with him without words. She had coffee, and now the only other thing that she craved was chocolate. If she could have chocolate, she’d be perfectly content.

“And I brought you a couple of Black and Whites. I figured you could use the chocolate.”

Mike sounded different than he usually did, but that didn’t concern her. This was a miracle. She’d obviously communicated with him, too. No wonder both of them had been waiting for her at the altar! It was only right that she marry them both, since both of them could read her mind.

“I do,” she said, opening her eyes wide to smile at them. And that was when she noticed that she wasn’t in a church at all. She was sitting at a back table in her own coffee shop. Lisa was sitting across from her, right next to her husband, Herb. There hadn’t been any wedding. She’d caught forty winks while Lisa had been mixing up the cookie dough, and she’d dreamed the whole thing.

“You do what?” Herb asked.

Hannah looked at him blankly. She didn’t have the foggiest idea what he was talking about.

“When you woke up you smiled at us and said, I do.”

“Oh.” Hannah thought fast. “You said you figured I needed chocolate and I said I do.” And then, before Herb could think about it and ask more questions that might prove embarrassing, Hannah turned to Lisa. “What time is it?”

“A little after two-thirty. I closed because we haven’t had a customer since noon.”

“All the stores on Main Street are closing early,” Herb informed her. “Nobody’s doing any business, not even Rose down at the cafe. Everybody and their cousin’s out at the fairgrounds.”

“That figures.” Hannah took a gulp of her coffee and bit into a cookie. It was just as good as she thought it would be. Nothing could beat the winning combination of chocolate and coffee.

Lisa reached out to take Herb’s hand. “There’s no traffic in town, so Mayor Bascomb told Herb he could have the rest of the afternoon off.”

“I can help you and Lisa mix up cookies,” Herb offered. “Or I can make deliveries if you’ve got any. Or maybe you just want to go home for the day?”

Hannah noticed the hopeful look in her partner’s eyes. Lisa and Herb had been married for only four months, and they didn’t get much time alone together. They both worked six days a week, and they spent almost every Sunday with his mother and her father.

“I do have one delivery,” Hannah said, turning to Herb, “but you’ll have to take Lisa with you.”

“Sure. Where do you want us to go?”

“To the fair. You can take the Pineapple Delights Lisa just baked to the Cookie Nook booth.” Hannah gave her partner a smile. “And since all of our customers are already at the fairgrounds, you can pack up all the cookies we have left here at the shop, and take them with you. They’re not going to eat them here, so they might as well eat them out there.”

“Okay. I’ll leave a box for you to use for samples and load up all the rest.”

“Perfect.” Hannah was glad Lisa had remembered. Unless they completely sold out, she usually packed up the leftover cookies and put them in her cookie truck. There was almost always an occasion to give out samples, and Hannah was convinced that they created a lot of new business that way.

“It should only take us about forty-five minutes,” Lisa said, glancing at her watch. “We can be back here by three-thirty at the latest, and then we can mix up the cookie dough for tomorrow.”

Hannah shook her head. “We’ll do that in the morning. We don’t have any cookies on the menu that need to be chilled before baking.”

“Well…if you’re sure…” Lisa hesitated, and Hannah could tell she felt guilty about not putting in a full day’s work.

“I’m positive. I’ll just finish up a couple of things here and go home.”

Hannah had another cup of coffee while Lisa packed up the cookies. Then she helped them pack the boxes in Herb’s cruiser. As they drove away, Hannah noticed that Lisa had slid across the bench seat and was sitting close to Herb. If anyone had been foolish enough to give her odds, Hannah would have bet that the two lovebirds would be doing some billing and cooing before the night was over.

An hour later, Hannah opened the door to her condo and braced herself for the greeting ritual that Moishe had initiated on the first day he’d moved in with her. The pattern hadn’t varied in over two years. Once she opened the door, Moishe hurtled himself into her arms, landing with a thud that rocked her back on her heels. Hannah’s catapulting feline reminded her of an old picture she’d seen at the Lake Eden Historical Society. Her grandfather and some of his cronies were standing in a circle on the beach at Eden Lake, tossing a medicine ball around. According to some research her mother had done, the ball they’d used had weighed over twenty pounds. Since Moishe had tipped the scales at twenty-three pounds the last time she’d taken him to the vet, Hannah considered their greeting ritual part of her daily exercise regime. If the truth were known, it was the only part of her daily exercise regime, unless she counted the aerobic benefits of lifting giant bags of sugar and flour in her bakery kitchen or walking several miles across the coffee shop floor to refill coffee mugs and deliver orders of cookies.

Hannah stood there waiting for the onslaught, but absolutely nothing happened. The door was open, and Moishe was nowhere in sight. Heart in her throat, Hannah rushed in and tossed her purse on a chair. “Moishe?” she called, fearing the worst.

There was no answer, and Hannah felt a chill of foreboding. She should have taken Moishe to the vet this morning when she’d found him staring out the window at nothing. Animals couldn’t tell you when they were sick. Their humans had to watch for signs of illness, and one sign was atypical behavior. He’d tried to tell her, and she was a bad kitty mommy for ignoring the sign!

Relax, she told herself and took a deep breath. It would do no good to panic. She had to stay calm and think clearly. The first thing to do was to find Moishe and check for other signs of illness.

Hannah headed for the kitchen. Perhaps Moishe had his head buried in his food bowl and he hadn’t heard her come in. But there was no orange and white cat ear-deep in his kitty crunchies. Instead, Hannah found something even more alarming. She’d given him his breakfast before she’d left for work this morning, and her normally ravenous cat hadn’t touched a morsel!

“Uh-oh,” Hannah groaned, staring at Moishe’s full-to-the-brim Garfield bowl in disbelief. Moishe always emptied his bowl and was yowling for more by the time she came home. There had to be something drastically wrong.

Hannah checked the usual places, but Moishe wasn’t there. There was nothing furry under the Formica kitchen table that was only a few years short of becoming antique, and no inquisitive orange and white head peeked out from behind the kitchen wastebasket. Moishe was not in the kitchen, not unless he’d morphed into one of the dust balls that was hiding in the two-inch-high space under the refrigerator.

The laundry room was next. Hannah checked the space behind the washer and dryer, even though she thought it was too tight a squeeze for him. There was a smattering of gravel outside his litter box. He must have used it since she’d swept the floor this morning. That was a good sign, wasn’t it?

Hannah went down the hall toward her bedroom, but she stopped as she noticed that the guest room door was open. She always kept it closed so that Moishe couldn’t chase after the appliquéd butterflies on the expensive silk coverlet Delores had given her for Christmas one year, but perhaps the latch hadn’t caught. She’d have to be more careful in the future or her mother’s butterflies would meet a force even more dangerous than the rigors of migration.

Hannah poked her head in, but Moishe wasn’t on the bed and the coverlet looked untouched. Since the butterflies were intact, she was about to pull the door shut behind her when she saw movement out of the corner of her eye. “Moishe?” she called out.

“Brrrowww!”

It was a loud, healthy yowl and Hannah gave a huge sigh of relief. Moishe sounded just fine. But why hadn’t he come to greet her? And why wasn’t he eating? She stepped inside the room and began to frown as she saw what her cat was doing.

Moishe was balanced, rather precariously, on the guest room windowsill. He was staring out at the condo next door, where the Hollenbeck sisters lived. There was no one home. Today was Monday, and the two sisters spent all afternoon out at Lake Eden Memorial Hospital, working as volunteers. The Hollenbeck sisters were both retired. Marguerite had worked for forty years as a kindergarten teacher, and Clara had put in forty-two years as a court reporter at the Winnetka County Courthouse. They’d told Hannah that they were devoting the rest of their lives to doing good works, and they were active church members. Hannah had met them the day she moved in. They’d invited her over for dinner that night, and they’d dined on Clara’s Mexican hot dish, a casserole of hamburger, corn, mild green chilies, shredded cheese, and spicy tomato sauce. It was topped with more shredded cheese and some crushed corn chips that formed a delectable crust. Marguerite had provided the beverages, and she’d made her namesake Margaritas with white wine instead of tequila, since the sisters didn’t drink hard liquor. They were delicious, a perfect complement to the hot dish. Hannah had downed two, and she’d been very careful navigating the thirty feet that separated their second-floor condo units.

“What are you doing, Moishe?” Hannah hurried over to steady her cat on the narrow windowsill. She looked out, but she saw only windows with curtains drawn at the unit next door. “There’s nothing there. Clara and Marguerite are out at the hospital today.”

“Yow!” Moishe said, as if to contradict her, but he let her pick him up and cuddle him. He even licked her chin, which only happened when he was feeling affectionate.

“Thank you,” Hannah said, giving him a scratch behind his ear. Then she carted him out of the room, shut the door tightly behind her making sure that it latched, and took him off to the kitchen. But when she put him down in front of his food bowl, he turned around to look at her ruefully, as if to say, What are you trying to do here? I don’t want this stuff.

“Okay. Just let me change clothes and I’ll get you something you’ll like better,” Hannah promised, heading off to the bedroom with Moishe following in her wake.

It took a few minutes, but at last Hannah was dressed in an outfit that her mother would deem appropriate for an older sister of a Miss Tri-County contestant. She brushed her hair, secured it with the clasp Michelle had given her for her birthday, and turned to face Moishe.

“Okay?” she asked him. She was wearing the lightweight summer suit that Delores had bought her several years ago. The pants and top were made of a crinkled material that reminded Hannah of the pinstriped seersucker pants and jacket that her father had worn. Hers was navy blue with a white stripe, and her father’s had been tan with a white stripe. Now that she thought about it, Delores had bought her father’s suit, too. And her father had always hated it. Hannah thought about that for a split second, but time was flying and food was more important than rejecting her mother’s fashion guidance. “No time to change; it’ll have to do,” she said, leading the way to the kitchen.

Once she’d arrived, she put Moishe down on the floor. “Tuna?” she asked the cat, who loved Chicken of the Sea. But Moishe wasn’t even looking at his food bowl. He was sitting in the doorway, watching her with a hopeful expression that Hannah interpreted to mean, I don’t really care what you eat as long as it’s good and I get some.

“A Denver sandwich?” Hannah asked, smiling when her cat’s ears perked up. “With or without onions and peppers?”

Moishe’s expression changed slightly, something that only Hannah could interpret. At least she thought she could interpret it. Moishe wanted his portion without peppers or onions, and he’d appreciate it if she’d double the ham.

“Okay. I’ll call you when it’s ready. If you’re still interested in watching for the neighbors, you can see their unit from the back of the couch. It’s a lot more comfortable up there, and you won’t slip off the windowsill.”

Hannah spent the next few minutes chopping ham, green peppers, and onions, and wondering why a Denver sandwich was named after the mile-high city. She whipped up eggs in a glass with a fork, the way her Grandma Ingrid had done, and poured them into a buttered, preheated frying pan. She sprinkled chopped ham, minced green peppers, and finely chopped onions over the top, except for the section that would be the penumbra if her frying pan were a full moon. In that sickle-shaped portion, she put only ham and she made sure there was plenty of it.

In less than five minutes, Hannah’s sandwich was ready. She cut it into fourths diagonally, the way her grandmother had done to make it “special,” and arranged it on a green Fiestaware luncheon plate with the tips pointing out like a star. Then she dished up Moishe’s portion on a turquoise blue plate that set off the yellow of the eggs perfectly.

Hannah carried the two plates out to the living room. Using a Fiestaware plate for Moishe would have garnered her mother’s objections on two fronts. Delores believed that pets should have their own food bowls and never be fed from “people” dishes. She didn’t even think they should be mixed in the same load in the dishwasher. Hannah’s mother also loved antiques and family heirlooms. Letting Moishe use one of the six plates that Grandma Swensen had left Hannah would have positively horrified her.

Once their food was placed on the coffee table in front of the couch and the television was tuned to KCOW for the local news, Hannah called her cat down from the back of the couch.

Moishe’s ears swiveled forward at the sound of his name, but he didn’t move. Hannah fanned his plate with her hand so that he could catch the scent, but that didn’t do it either. As a last resort, she lifted the plate and held it in front of him, so he could see what was there. “What’s the matter, Moishe? Aren’t you hungry?”

“Rowww,” Moishe said, something that Hannah interpreted to mean she’d hit the nail on the head.

“Okay,” she told him. “I’ll leave your plate right here and you can have some when you’re ready. Be careful, though. If you break that plate, Mother will kill us both.”

The sound Moishe gave was more growl than comment. As Hannah watched, his eyes narrowed to slits, his hair puffed up to make him look larger to an opponent, and his tail switched back and forth. Mentioning her mother’s name always had this effect. Moishe hated Delores. Hannah figured it had started when they’d first met and Delores had tried to pick him up despite Hannah’s warning that he was still skittish around people. It had been a case of stubborn cat versus determined human, and stubborn cat had won. Delores had finally stopped trying to pick up Moishe, but it had taken a half-dozen pairs of shredded pantyhose to dissuade her.

“Sorry,” Hannah said, reaching up to smooth the hair on his back. “We won’t talk about her now.”

Moishe gave a sigh that convinced Hannah he understood and settled back down to stare out the window. As she ate her sandwich, Hannah divided her time between watching the news and watching her neighbors’ window, but she still didn’t see anything moving in Clara and Marguerite’s apartment. Was it possible that something was wrong and Moishe could sense it?

Hannah imagined a dire scenario. Clara hadn’t felt well this morning, so she’d sent Marguerite on to the hospital alone. And as the hours passed without her sister, Clara had become very ill, so ill that she couldn’t even get to the phone. Was she calling for help in a voice so weak only Moishe could hear it?

Just to make sure, Hannah picked up the phone and called the hospital. Yvonne Blair, Doc Knight’s secretary, answered.

“Hi, Yvonne,” Hannah greeted her. “I just wondered if the Hollenbeck sisters were there today.”

“They were, but they just left. I can probably catch up with them in the parking lot if you need me to.”

“No, that’s okay,” Hannah said quickly. “It wasn’t that important. I’ll catch up with them at home.”

“Okay. You’re going to the Miss Tri-County contest tonight, aren’t you?”

“Of course. Michelle’s one of the contestants.”

“I know. She was out here this morning with flowers for Edna Ferguson. Of course you probably know that since your name was on the card.”

“Right,” Hannah said, making a mental note to reimburse and thank her baby sister for something she should have done herself. “Is Edna on any kind of restricted diet? Or can I bring out some cookies?”

“Hold on and let me check the computer.”

While she waited for Yvonne to check, Hannah glanced over at the unopened computer boxes that sat on the floor under her desk. She’d been forced to buy it when she lost a bet last month and Norman had helped her pick it out. He’d offered to give her a crash course in computer technology right after the Tri-County Fair was over, and Hannah had accepted gratefully. She knew the basics, but she hadn’t used a computer since her college days and things had changed a lot since then. The computer industry was continually evolving. Her computer was aging right there in its box, and by the time she learned to use it, it would probably be several generations away from a state-of-the-art model.

“Doc’s marked her down for a normal diet,” Yvonne said, coming back on the line. “No restrictions at all. Feel free to bring cookies, Hannah. And if Doc’s directions change and Edna can’t have them, I’m sure they’ll find a good home.”

After promising to drop by with goodies, Hannah hung up the phone and turned to Moishe. He was still staring fixedly at the window next door. “There’s nobody home. I just checked.”

But that didn’t seem to make any difference to Moishe. He just kept staring as if the most fascinating thing was happening behind the curtains. Hannah stared, too, doing her best not to blink. For a minute or two that seemed like hours, absolutely nothing happened. And then Hannah gave a little gasp as she saw the curtain wiggle slightly.

“I saw it!” she told Moishe. “Was that what you were waiting for?”

Moishe gave her his Sphinx look, the one that said, I am the font of all knowledge, and I am inscrutable to a mere human person like you, and Hannah gave up. She wasn’t even sure she’d seen the curtain move, but if she had, there was probably a perfectly reasonable explanation. Marguerite and Clara had an attic air conditioner that had been installed when their unit was built. Clara suffered from chronic allergies, and Doc Knight had suggested it as a means of filtering out some of the pollens and allergens that turned her nose red, made her eyes water, and stuffed up her sinuses.

“See you later, Moishe,” Hannah said, after she’d carried their plates to the kitchen and scraped his uneaten food into his bowl. “You can watch their curtains wiggle while I go out to the fairgrounds to cheer on Michelle.”

Chapter Four

Hannah was so proud of her sister she was glad she hadn’t worn anything with buttons to pop. Michelle had looked truly gorgeous in the dazzling white satin, Grecian-style evening gown that Claire Rodgers, The Cookie Jar’s Main Street neighbor, had chosen for her to wear. According to the full-page acknowledgment in tonight’s program, Claire’s shop, Beau Monde Fashions, was selling the gowns that had been seen in tonight’s contest on a silent auction basis. If the contestants wanted the gown they’d worn, they could buy it at a fifty percent discount. But if a contestant didn’t want it, it went in Claire’s window to be auctioned off to the highest bidder.

“Genius,” Hannah said, catching Claire by the arm and pointing to the page in the program.

“I think so, too.” Claire, a gorgeous blonde in her thirties with a svelte figure that Hannah would have done anything except diet to replicate, gave a little a laugh. “It was Bob’s idea.”

Hannah knew the Bob in question was Reverend Robert Knudson, Holy Redeemer Lutheran’s bachelor minister. Claire and Reverend Knudson wanted to get married, but there were complications. Most Lake Edenites, or whatever they wanted to call their collective noun, suspected that Claire had spent several years as their mayor’s mistress. No one could prove it, but that didn’t stop the tongues from wagging.

“Your mother already called me and said she wanted to buy Michelle’s dress,” Claire said. “It was gorgeous, wasn’t it?”

Hannah nodded. She was almost positive that Claire’s expertise was one of the reasons her sister had come in first in the evening gown competition. “It was absolutely wonderful. You couldn’t have chosen anything more perfect.”

“I thought so, too.” Claire gave Hannah a smile. “So do you think Michelle is going to win the Miss Tri-County crown?”

Hannah shrugged. “I don’t know. That’s almost as much of an unanswered question as yours.”

“Mine?”

“That’s right. When are you going to let Reverend Knudson announce your engagement?”

Claire gave a little sigh. “I think we might do it in the spring. Maybe people will have forgotten by then.”

“You’re kidding!” Hannah stared at her in total disbelief. “Lake Eden’s a small town. People in small towns are like elephants.”

“You mean they never forget?”

“Not unless it’s their last promise to their wife,” Hannah said. And then she wished she hadn’t. This wasn’t the time for joking. “I think Reverend Knudson should announce it this summer, Claire.”

“Why this summer?”

“Because summer is the most popular time for weddings, and people have love on their minds. They’re so busy with weddings in their own families, they won’t have time to think about yours.”

“You’re sure?” Claire looked doubtful.

“No, but it’s worth a try. And if there’s gossip, you’ll ride it out.” Hannah thought about it for a moment, and then she played her ace in the hole. “Which would you rather…announce it now? Or have somebody accuse you of having an affair with Reverend Knudson?”

“They wouldn’t!” Claire looked shocked.

“They would. If I were you, I’d head them off at the pass and make the announcement soon.”

Claire thought about it for a long moment, and then she sighed. “You’re right. I’ll let Bob do it at the end of August. That’s when a lot of people go on vacation. If we do it the last Sunday in August, you’ll be there, won’t you?”

“You got it,” Hannah said, thankful that this was only June and she had over two full months to figure out how to get Reverend Knudson’s congregation to embrace Claire with open arms.

“Stop in tomorrow,” Claire said. “I’ve got in a new shipment, and there’s a matching pants and top set that’s absolutely perfect for you.”

Hannah wavered. She really couldn’t afford any new clothes, but when Claire said something was perfect, it was. And since Claire always gave her a generous discount, she caved in. “Okay,” she promised. “But this hasn’t been a really flush month.”

“When have I ever overcharged you?”

“Never,” Hannah hastened to say. “It’s just that Doug Greerson down at the bank is getting ready to rip out the rest of the checks in my checkbook so I won’t be tempted to bounce one.”

“It’s that bad?” Claire looked concerned.

“Well…not quite that bad.”

“Come in tomorrow and try on that outfit. If you like it, I’ll give it to you at my cost. When you opened The Cookie Jar, my business doubled. People walk up the street to have cookies and coffee, and they look at the display in my window. You have no idea how many of your customers come in to try on something they’ve seen after they leave your place.”

“Really?”

“That’s right. And I’m not even counting your mother. Every time she comes in, she buys something.”

“Mother can afford it.” Hannah glanced at her watch and slipped into a faster gear. “I’ve got to run, Claire. I’m judging the baked goods contest tonight.”

“Good luck,” Claire said, taking her cue. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Hannah.”

After Claire left, Hannah glanced around. People were still filing out of the auditorium, and it was time to make herself scarce. There was somewhere she had to go, and she had to do it fast. If she hurried, she’d have just enough time for the clandestine treat she’d decided to enjoy before she joined Willa and Pam at the Creative Arts Building.

Less than two minutes later, Hannah rounded the corner by the deep-fried candy bar booth. She was slightly out of breath, and she stopped to let her breathing return to a normal rate. There was a friendly-looking woman sitting on a stool behind the counter, and her nametag read RUBY in bright red block letters. No one else was in line at the moment, and Hannah stepped up to place her order.

“What’ll it be, Ma’am?” the woman named Ruby asked. And that meant Hannah had to come to a decision. She’d been debating the merits of a Milky Way and a Snickers bar all day. She knew full well she shouldn’t indulge in a deep-fried candy bar, especially since she’d be sampling coffeecake, cinnamon bread, and sweet rolls in less than fifteen minutes. But all day long she’d been dreaming about a deep-fried candy bar. It was driving her crazy, and the only way to stop thinking about it was to have one.

“Ma’am?” Ruby prodded her back to the present, and there was a knowing smile on her face. “It’s hard to choose, isn’t it?”

“Does the Milky Way have the original milk chocolate? Or is it the kind with the semi-sweet dark chocolate?”

“It’s the original with milk chocolate. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“You like the milk chocolate best?” Hannah asked, interpreting her comment.

“You got it right. I don’t understand why they wanted to mess with something that was already perfect.”

“Neither do I.”

“I felt the same way when they came out with peanuts in the M&Ms. And I really hate the new Hershey’s Kisses with fruit and nuts. They’re supposed to melt in your mouth without chewing, you know?”

“I know.” Hannah felt she’d found a kindred soul. “I really shouldn’t have a deep-fried candy bar at all. I’m judging the baked goods contest in less than fifteen minutes.”

Ruby threw back her head and laughed. “You’re right. You shouldn’t. These things are loaded with calories and you can’t take just one bite. Once you taste it, you have to finish the whole thing. It’s addictive.”

“How many calories does it have?” Hannah asked, hoping that if she didn’t eat anything except lettuce for the next two days, she could have one without gaining weight.

“Believe me, you don’t want to know!”

“That bad?”

“Worse. I started to figure it out once, but I quit when I got up to a thousand. I figured it wasn’t a real good selling point.”

“You’re right,” Hannah said, hoping it wasn’t quite as bad as Ruby was making out. “I’ve got to taste one, though. I’ve been dreaming about it ever since I walked past your booth this morning.”

“Okay. What kind of candy bar do you want?”

“I’m still trying to decide between the Milky Way and the Snickers. Which one do you…” Hannah stopped speaking and whirled around as she heard someone calling her name. “Uh-oh!” she said with a groan. “It’s my mother!”

“Caught in the act?” Ruby asked, and something about her smile told Hannah that the same thing must have happened with other customers and other mothers.

“That’s right. She’s always after me to lose weight, and…”

“Say no more,” Ruby interrupted her with a wink. “I’ll take care of it for you.”

Hannah remained silent. It seemed that Ruby was a pro in situations like this.

“I think I saw her,” Ruby said when Delores was within earshot. “She came past here about five minutes ago, and she headed off toward the Ferris wheel.”

Hannah winked back, and then she turned to face Delores. “Hi, Mother. Did you happen to see Lisa?”

“Not tonight.” Delores had looked as if she were loaded for bear, but her eyebrows settled and Hannah knew she was biting back a lecture on saturated fats, empty calories, and elevated cholesterol levels. Ruby had effectively defused the Mother-bomb, and Hannah owed her at least a dozen cookies in return for the favor.

“I’m glad to see you, dear. But for a minute there I thought that you…never mind.”

Hannah turned back to Ruby. “Thanks for the information. Those deep-fried candy bars look like real killers.”

“They are, but there’s no way I could make a living selling deep-fried lettuce.”

Hannah burst into laughter, but her mother looked intrigued. “I wonder if it would be good.”

“I’m not sure,” Ruby said. “Maybe not, because lettuce is mostly water. That’s what makes it such a great diet food.”

Delores stepped a bit closer to the counter. “That’s true.”

“I’ve had deep-fried broccoli, and it’s delicious,” Ruby continued. “Carrots and sweet potatoes are good, too.”

Delores nodded quickly “You’re right. Are you with the carnival? Or do you live around here?”

“I’m with the carnival. I’m married to Riggs. He’s the announcer at the rodeo.”

“I heard him this afternoon on my way to the Lake Eden Historical Society booth,” Delores said. “He has a wonderful voice.”

“I think so, too.”

“Then you travel with the show?” Delores asked.

“Yes. We have our own trailer. Riggs is the rodeo manager. He announces and he also runs the show.”

“That must be a big job, with all those cowboys and animals. I hope he’s well-paid for…” Delores stopped suddenly and looked uncomfortable. “I apologize. I shouldn’t have broached such a personal subject.”

“That’s okay, I don’t mind.” Ruby turned to Hannah, who was staring at the two of them in absolute amazement. She’d never known her mother to be so friendly with an absolute stranger before. “You’d better get a move on,” Ruby said to her. “You’ve got that contest to judge.”

“Right. I’ll see you later, Mother.”

“Fine, dear.” Delores dismissed her with a wave and then she turned back to Ruby. “So tell me about life on the road. I’ve never traveled anywhere to speak of. Do you find that all these little towns look alike after a while?”

“If I have to taste another coffeecake, I’m going to die!” Willa declared, leaning back in her chair and rubbing her stomach.

Pam laughed. “I know what you mean. There were ten of them. But you’re in luck now. The next six entries are sweet rolls.”

“Tell me they’re not all cinnamon,” Hannah said, taking a swig of the bottled water that had been provided as a palate cleanser.

Pam looked down at the listing of entries and gave Hannah a thumbs-up. “There’s only one, and we’ll test it after the orange rolls. That should give your taste buds a break.”

“My taste buds thank you,” Hannah said, meaning every word of it. They’d only gone through three-quarters of the sweet-bread entries, and she was firmly convinced that cinnamon was the most overused spice of them all.

“Moroccan Delight,” Pam declared, cutting small wedge-shaped pieces of the sweet roll on her plate. “According to the recipe, the predominant flavors are supposed to be coconut, honey, ground walnuts, and dates.”

Hannah gasped as she bit into the incredibly sweet concoction. “This is sugar overload.”

“You’re right.” Willa made a face. “It’s almost as sweet as the chocolate baklava I had in California.”

Both Pam and Hannah turned to look her, but Pam was the first to speak. “I didn’t know you went to California.”

“It was a long time ago, when I thought I could get along anywhere,” Willa said. And then she gave a rueful laugh. “I was wrong. I found out I never should have left Minnesota.”

Pam looked a bit confused. “I didn’t know you left Minnesota.”

“Well, I did.” The color came up on Willa’s cheeks, and Hannah knew she was uncomfortable. “It was a big mistake. You probably noticed that I dropped out of school for a little over a year.”

“I saw that in your transcripts,” Pam said.

“It took me that long to realize that I wasn’t going to get anywhere unless I finished school. But when I enrolled at Tri-County College, I found out that a lot of my credits didn’t transfer. I had to start my major all over again.” Willa stopped to smile at Pam. “And you hired me as a teacher’s aide so that I could finish and get my degree.”

“How long do you have to go?” Hannah asked, hoping that Willa would make it.

“Only one more semester. All I have to do is student teach for Pam until Christmas and I’ve got it!”

“You’ll make it,” Pam said, turning around to face the long table where the remaining entries were lined up to be judged. “Only one left. After that we’ll tally up the scores and declare a winner. And then we can all pick out a couple of our favorites and take them home.”

Hannah was surprised at this news. “I didn’t know we got to take anything home!”

“Well, we do. That’s why the contestants are required to use disposable pans. We get to take what we want, and we leave the rest for the cleaning crew. It’s one of the perks they get for cleaning this building.”

“I’ll bet they never have any trouble finding people to clean up,” Hannah commented.

“Probably not.” Pam picked up the last entry and set it in front of them. As with all the other entries, there was a card giving the name of the recipe, but the contestant’s name had been concealed with removable tape. A number was written on the front of the tape, and the scorecards were numbered accordingly. “This is chocolate cherry coffeecake,” Pam said, reading the card. “The contestant describes it as, Bite-sized morsels of chocolate and cherry in a tender buttery sweet dough. Drizzled with melted dark chocolate and cherry icing, it’s the perfect accompaniment to a strong cup of coffee.”

Hannah’s mouth started to water. “Sounds yummy!”

“Chocolate and cherry is a traditional combination,” Willa stated the obvious. “What kind of cherries did she use?”

Pam flipped the card to read the list of ingredients on the back. “Dark cherry pie filling. She rolled out the sweet dough and spread out the cherry pie filling. Then she sprinkled on the chocolate chips, and folded the dough over the top.”

“How about the cherry frosting?” Hannah wanted to know. “Did she use part of the cherry pie filling for that?”

“No. It says that she used cherry liqueur and a drop of red food coloring.”

Hannah watched as Pam cut bite-sized pieces for all three of them. She wasn’t that wild about using food coloring, but she had to admit that the combination of drizzled chocolate and pink cherry icing was pretty.

“Any more questions?” Pam asked after they’d tasted their sample. When Hannah and Willa shook their heads, she passed them the numbered scorecards. “Let’s mark our scores and go on.”

Hannah had just turned in her scorecard when she had a thought. Delores loved the combination of chocolate and cherries, and Pam had said they could take some of the baked goods home. “If nobody else wants it, I’ll take the rest of that chocolate cherry coffeecake.”

“Fine by me,” Pam said.

“You got it, Hannah,” Willa agreed. “I’m taking the rest of the raised cinnamon doughnuts. I thought they were great.”

Hannah didn’t comment. She hadn’t given the doughnuts a high mark. She’d thought they were a bit greasy, and the contestant had used too much cinnamon for her taste. “What are you taking, Pam?”

“The sticky buns. They’re George’s favorites. And I think I’ll take one of the apple coffeecakes, too. George’s sister loves apple coffeecake. I’ll just pop it in the freezer and take it with me the next time we visit.”

The next few minutes were spent tallying scores. Hannah read them off, Willa punched them into the calculator that had been provided for them, and Pam marked them down on the master score sheet. They were nearing the end when Pam gave a little gasp.

“Good heavens!” she exclaimed, staring at the master score sheet as if it couldn’t possibly be right. “Mrs. Adamczak only got an honorable mention?”

Hannah was every bit as shocked as Pam looked. “You’ve got to be kidding! She’s never come in lower than second place!”

“And that was right after she had her hip replacement and she couldn’t stand for more than five minutes at a time,” Pam said with a frown. “There’s got to be some mistake.”

“Which entry was hers?” Willa asked.

Hannah glanced down at the master sheet. “Number thirty-two, the cinnamon raisin bread. It was the only one entered. Nobody wants to put their cinnamon raison bread up against Mrs. Adamczak’s.”

“Are you sure you tallied her score right?” Pam asked Willa. “I didn’t think Mrs. Adamczak’s bread was quite as good as last year, but I still gave her nines across the board.”

“And I gave her almost all nines,” Hannah said.

Willa looked highly uncomfortable. “Her score’s right. I gave her threes and fours. When I added all the marks together, her score averaged out to a little below seven, and there were three other entries higher than hers.”

“You gave her threes and fours?” Hannah had trouble believing that Willa hadn’t liked Mrs. Adamczak’s bread. “But that’s below average.”

“I know. I thought it had too many raisins. And I didn’t like the golden ones mixed in with the regular.”

“Okay,” Pam said. “What else was wrong with it?”

“There wasn’t enough cinnamon and it was mixed with some spice I didn’t care for. I think it was…cardamom?”

“That’s right,” Hannah said, glancing quickly at the list of ingredients. “Was there anything else you didn’t like?”

“I thought it was overbaked.”

“I agree that it was a bit too brown on top,” Pam said, turning to Hannah.

“So do I. I gave her an eight on presentation for that. But it was still moist, so it didn’t hurt the texture or the internal appearance.”

Willa looked a bit regretful. “I suppose Mrs. Adamczak’s going to be really disappointed.” And when Pam and Hannah nodded, she gave a deep sigh. “She’s the lady that lives in the yellow house right across from the school, isn’t she?”

“That’s right,” Pam answered her.

“I wonder if…I mean, it’s probably not allowed, but…do you think I should change my scorecard?”

Hannah and Pam locked eyes. It was a tough question, and Willa was clearly struggling with it.

“Let’s put it to the test,” Hannah said at last, after Pam had failed to speak up. “Do you still feel the same way about her bread?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Then your objections are valid. You didn’t think it deserved to win before, and you shouldn’t change your score now that you know who baked it.”

“Absolutely right,” Pam agreed, giving Willa a smile. “It’s like the student you hated to flunk. Remember?”

Willa turned to Hannah. “I really liked him, but I graded his final project and it was awful. He had to make breakfast, and he chose pancakes, bacon, and eggs.”

“He didn’t drain the bacon, and it was grease central,” Pam took over the story. “The eggs were incinerated, and I thought we’d never get the sulfur smell out of the room.”

“And the pancakes?” Hannah asked.

Willa gave a rueful little smile. “Raw inside. And he tried to heat the syrup in the microwave without taking off the metal cap, and it sparked like fireworks. I still feel bad, though. Because of me, he has to go to summer school to take another class.”

Pam passed over the final tally sheet for all three of them to sign. Then they packaged the sweet breads they were taking with them and parted ways at the bottom of the steps to the Creative Arts Building.

As Hannah headed off across the fairgrounds, slapping at mosquitoes and juggling her sweet burdens, she decided that the first day of judging hadn’t been so bad. She’d tasted some very fine sweet dough treats, and she was going to her mother’s house with the chocolate cherry coffeecake to congratulate Michelle on winning the evening gown competition.

Hannah was about to head for the turnstile at the exit when she thought about Sinful Pleasures, the deep-fried candy bar booth. She was alone. Pam and Willa had already left. Delores had driven Michelle home, and Lisa and Herb were gone. This was her perfect chance. She could have a deep-fried Milky Way with impunity.

Life is good, Hannah thought, as she freed up a hand and slapped at another mosquito. The only thing that would make this moment better was if she’d remembered to wear insect repellent.

Chapter Five

She had to wait in line for several minutes because there were at least a half-dozen people in front of her, but at last she reached the counter. And since there was no one in line behind her, she had time to chat with Ruby for a moment.

“This is for you, Ruby.” Hannah handed over the cinnamon raisin bread she’d snatched up at the last minute. “It only took an honorable mention, but it should have placed higher. I’ve had it before, and it’s great for toast in the morning.”

“Well, that’s really nice of you,” Ruby said, sounding both surprised and pleased.

“It’s just a little thank-you for defusing the situation with my mother.”

“No problem. Parents are always pulling their kids away from my booth.”

“Yes, but I’ll bet those kids are usually a lot younger.”

“That’s true. But some mothers just can’t seem to let go, even when their kids are grown up. I’m that way myself.”

Hannah stared at Ruby in surprise. She’d assumed Ruby was about her age, but if she had a grown child, she had to be older. “I can’t believe you have a child that old!”

“She’s not really my child. She’s my half-sister, but I raised her when our mother died.”

“How old were you?” Hannah couldn’t help asking.

“Almost eleven.”

Hannah gave a little sigh. When she was eleven, she’d done something similar. Michelle had been a cranky baby and she’d helped to take care of her when Delores had needed a break. But that had been only for an hour or so, a couple of times a week. Hannah couldn’t even imagine shouldering the sole responsibility of motherhood at that age. “How old was your sister?”

“Two and a half. It wasn’t easy, but all the rodeo wives helped. The ones who had kids used to invite Brianna over to play so that I could get some of the housework done. And they were always inviting us over for meals. There was one barrel rider, Missy Daniels, who used to bring us tuna casserole.”

“That was nice.”

“No, it wasn’t. It was the worst tuna casserole I ever tasted. My stepfather, Sam, said we had to be polite and tell her we liked it, so we did. But that backfired.”

“She brought you even more of it?” Hannah guessed.

“That’s right. We had it every Friday night. I still can’t stand the sight of a can of tuna. Anyway, between the wives and the single gals who wanted to pick up on Sam, we got along all right. Of course when we wrapped up the season, it was a lot easier.”

“Why?” Hannah asked, curious about what it would be like to travel with a rodeo.

“We wintered in Florida with Sam’s parents. Bri and I lived with them in Fort Lauderdale. Gram took care of Bri so I could go to school, and Sam spent the winter booking skeleton shows.” Hannah must have looked as confused as she felt, because Ruby hurried to explain. “It’s a pared down show, just the bones. That’s why we call it a skeleton show. It’s really more of a demonstration, and you can put it on in a park, or even a vacant lot.”

“So your stepdad was the booking agent for the show?”

“That and everything else. Sam owns the Great North-western Rodeo and Carnival. He finally gave up Brahma riding last year after he broke his arm twice, but he still keeps his hand in by doing some trick riding. See that Winnebago parked at the edge of the trees?”

Hannah looked in the direction Ruby was pointing. There was a large Winnebago parked behind the midway, just to the left of the Ferris wheel. “I see it.”

“That’s where I grew up. Of course I don’t live there now. Riggs and I have our own trailer. But Sam still lives there with Brianna. She just got engaged to one of the cowboys. He’s a Brahma rider and his name’s Tucker Smith.”

“It must be a very different sort of life,” Hannah mused, wondering how it would feel to travel with a rodeo.

“Oh, it is. We don’t stay anywhere for more than a week, and that means we have to be really self-sufficient.” Ruby stopped talking and gazed over Hannah’s shoulder. “So how about that deep-fried Milky Way? Your mother’s nowhere in sight.”

Hannah laughed. She didn’t know how she could possibly manage it after all the sweet dough breads they’d tasted, but the thought of getting to taste one at last made her mouth start to water. “Well…I really shouldn’t but I guess…” Hannah stopped in midsentence when a voice called her name. She turned to see Norman hurrying across the food court toward her, and she gave a little sigh. She was glad to see him. It wasn’t that. But this was the second time she’d been thwarted in her attempt to taste a deep-fried candy bar.

“You can’t eat one right now?” Ruby guessed.

“You got it,” Hannah said, and then she turned to give Norman a smile as he arrived at her side. It had been several days since she’d seen him, and it felt good to be with him again.

“Are you going to eat one of those?” he asked, as he arrived at her side.

“No,” Hannah replied. Norman didn’t sound censorious, the way her mother had, but it would be wise to play it safe.

“I need your help, Hannah.” Norman took the pan from her arms and steered her away from the booth, barely giving Hannah time to wave goodbye to Ruby. “I’ve got a problem with my dishwasher.”

Hannah was confused. “‘I’m sorry to hear that, but I don’t know anything about fixing dishwashers.”

“I know you don’t. And I wasn’t asking you to. All I want you to do is help me pick it out. The brochures for the kitchen appliances came today, and I can’t make up my mind between two models.”

“No problem. I’ll be glad to help you.”

“Thanks, Hannah. I was afraid I’d pick the wrong one.” Norman looked down at the pan he was carrying. “I heard you were filling in for Edna. Is this tonight’s winner?”

“No, it’s part of the third-place entry, a chocolate cherry coffeecake. I’m taking it to Mother.”

“Now?” Norman asked, looking disappointed.

“Now. I’m going to deliver the coffeecake, congratulate Michelle on her win in the evening gown competition, and then I’m going straight home. I think Moishe might be getting sick.”

“What’s wrong with him?”

“I don’t know. It’s probably the heat, but I’m a little worried. He didn’t touch his breakfast.”

“How about dinner?”

“Only a sniff and a lick. And I made him a Denver sandwich without the onions and the bell peppers. I even put in double ham and he still wouldn’t touch it.”

“That sounds serious. How about if I stop at my house to pick up the brochures, and head over to your condo to check on Moishe? Maybe I can get him to eat. When you get home, you can take a quick look and tell me which model is the best.”

Hannah didn’t have to think twice about that. “Great,” she said, giving Norman a grateful smile. He always came through when she needed him. And that was one of the things she loved most about him.

“Hi, Hannah!” Michelle greeted her oldest sister at the door. Her face was devoid of makeup, and she was wearing cut-off jeans and a Macalester College T-shirt. “What have you got?”

“Chocolate cherry coffeecake. Where’s Mother?”

“In Dad’s old office. She’s using it now. She said she had some work to do on her computer.”

“What work?”

“I don’t know. I asked, but she said it was personal.”

Hannah frowned as visions of e-mail romances with prison inmates danced through her mind. “Is she on-line yet?”

“No. The cable company’s going to have free installation on their high-speed Internet access next month. She told me she’s waiting until then.”

“Good! I mean…I just didn’t want her to start something with…” Hannah stopped, not quite sure how to phrase what she’d been thinking.

“Weirdos, perverts, and creeps?” Michelle asked. “With a few con artists thrown in?”

“Exactly.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much. I think Mother learned a lot from what happened last spring.”

“I hope so! It just makes me so mad that somebody tried to take advantage of her!”

“Me, too. But it’s over now, and Mother’s smart enough not to fall for somebody like that again.” Michelle gave Hannah a little shove toward the office that Delores was using. “Do me a favor, okay?”

Hannah knew better than to agree without knowing what Michelle wanted. “That depends on what it is.”

“It’s snooping. I tried to see what Mother was working on, but she’s got one of those privacy screens. One keystroke and all you can see is a bouquet of flowers, or pine trees in a snowy forest. See if you can find out what she’s working on. I just hate it when people say that it’s personal and they won’t tell you what it is.”

“Okay, I’ll do it,” Hannah agreed. And then she headed down the hallway to see if she could figure out what secret their mother was hiding.

“Mother?” Hannah called out, tapping on the door and then opening it without waiting for an invitation.

“Hello, dear.” Delores looked up when Hannah came into the room. “Sit down and wait just a moment, will you? I really need to finish this paragraph.”

“Sure. Michelle said you were working on something personal.” Hannah sat down in the old leather chair that had been moved to a spot near the window. It had been her dad’s desk chair, but Delores had replaced it with a smart-looking model upholstered in blue tweed. It was clear at a glance that her mother’s new chair rolled, reclined, and swiveled, while the old leather chair merely sat there.

“That’s right.”

“I’m curious. What is it?”

“Nothing you’d be interested in, dear.”

Delores went right back to typing, and Hannah gave a little sigh. She’d struck out. So much for being forthright. She’d have to think of some other way to find out.

“You were always the best speller in the family,” Delores said, pausing with her fingers poised over the keyboard. “Recommendation has one c and two m’s, doesn’t it?”

“Recommendation?” Hannah repeated, not sure she’d heard her mother correctly.

“That’s right. Yes or no, dear.”

“Yes,” Hannah said, and then she spelled it out. “Are you writing a letter of recommendation for someone?”

“No, dear. Just give me a moment more and I’ll be through.”

Hannah’s curiosity reached new heights. Her mother had told Michelle it was “personal,” and it wasn’t a letter of recommendation. Asking politely hadn’t worked, and she’d promised Michelle that she’d snoop if she got the chance. Feeling a bit like someone cheating on an exam, Hannah craned her neck to try to see her mother’s computer screen. Unfortunately she was off-axis, and all she saw was a faintly lighted screen. She inched slightly to the side to get a better view, not an easy task with a heavy desk chair that didn’t roll, but the only thing she could make out was faint lines of double-spaced type. It was definitely not a letter. Letters were single-spaced.

“Almost through, dear,” Delores said, her fingers beating a staccato rhythm on the keys.

Hannah gave a lurch, and the chair slid another inch to the side. That was better! She could almost read something! She was leaning forward, squinting to make out the words, when a huge bouquet of flowers replaced the words on the screen.

“It’s time for a break,” Delores stated, leaning back in her chair. “You looked a bit upset when you came in the door, dear. Does it make you sad to see me using your father’s office?”

“A little,” Hannah admitted.

“That’s what I thought. You spent a lot of time in here with him.”

“You got a new desk chair.”

“Yes. I tried using his, but it just wasn’t right for me. So I ordered a new one, and then I kept thinking of what he’d say if he saw me replacing his desk chair. I was going to give it to charity. It’s really too big for this small room. But…I couldn’t just throw it away. He spent so much time in here, sitting in that chair. Sometimes when I’m working late, I’ll turn, and for just a second I think I can see him there. Is that crazy?”

“No, that’s love. And memories.”

Delores blinked several times, and then she gave a little smile. “You’re right. But I really do need to put a file cabinet in here, and there won’t be room with that chair. Would you like to have it?”

Hannah was tempted. She’d always associated that leather desk chair with her father. Then she thought of her condo and how it was already full to the brim with other things that Delores had given her. “I don’t think so, Mother. I’d like it, but I don’t have anywhere to put it.”

“That’s what I thought. I’ll ask Andrea and Michelle, but I don’t think they’ll want it, either. And I really hate to just…toss it.”

“I don’t want you to just toss it, either. Do you think it’d help if we found it a good home?”

Delores thought about that for a moment. “I think it would. Do you have any prospects in mind?”

“Not really, but I’ll think about it and…Norman!”

“Norman?”

“He might want it. His new house has an office, and as far as I know, he doesn’t have any furniture.”

“Oh, that would be perfect!” Delores looked delighted. “I’d like to give it to Norman.”

“Even if I don’t end up marrying him?” Hannah couldn’t help asking.

“Even if you don’t. When can you ask him if he wants it?”

“I’ll ask him tonight. He’s waiting for me at my condo. I’m going to help him pick out a dishwasher.”

“That’s wonderful, dear.”

Delores gave another smile that rang alarm bells in Hannah’s mind. Her mother seemed much too pleased about the fact that she was helping Norman pick out kitchen appliances. “It’s just a dishwasher, Mother. It’s not any more than that.”

“That’s all right, dear. Good marriages aren’t made overnight. Your father and I dated for several years before we married.”

Hannah bit her tongue. Sometimes it was better not to say anything.

“Is that for me, dear?” Delores asked, glancing at the foil-wrapped package Hannah still held in her arms.

“Yes. It’s the chocolate cherry coffeecake that took third place at the baked goods competition tonight.”

“It sounds marvelous! I’ll have some when I take my next break. And that reminds me…you don’t have anyone staying in your guest room, do you?”

“No.” Hannah readied herself for a major imposition. Her mother had mentioned something about a cousin three times removed who’d wanted to visit Lake Eden.

“Oh, good. Would you mind terribly if Michelle stayed with you?”

“You mean…our Michelle?”

“Yes. It’s just that I’m so busy right now. I really don’t have much time to spend with her, and poor Michelle must be lonely with only the television for company. I thought it might be more fun for her if she…”

“That’s fine, Mother,” Hannah agreed, before Delores could continue. “I’d love to have Michelle stay with me.”

“Wonderful! Go out there right now and have her pack up her things. Tell her she can use my car for the week. Then she’ll have her own transportation, and you won’t have to drive her around.”

“But won’t you need your car?”

“No. The only place I’m going is out to the fair, and I can ride with Carrie. We signed up for the same hours at the booth.”

“All right, Mother.”

“Tell her to come in and say goodbye before she leaves. I’d come out, but I still have several more pages to write before I’m through, and then I need to get some sleep. I’m burning the candle at both ends to get everything done.”

“Okay. I’ll tell her.” Hannah stood up, but before she could take a step, her mother stopped her.

“It’s not that I don’t want her, dear. Make that clear, will you? It’s just that with working at Granny’s Attic and supervising the booth at the fair, I don’t have time to get things done around here. And that reminds me…you are going to be at the Historical Society booth from eight to closing on Saturday night, aren’t you?”

Hannah took a deep breath and stifled the complaints she wanted to make. She’d agreed to help out in the Lake Eden Historical Society booth when her mother had asked, assuming she’d be passing out literature and taking contributions. But Delores had tricked her. What Hannah had really agreed to do was sit on a stool in a frilly dress while contributors threw balls at a target that would open a trapdoor and dunk her into a vat of cold water.

“Hannah?” Delores prodded.

“Yes, Mother. I said I would and I’ll be there.”

“Thank you, dear. And thank you for the coffeecake. I’ll have a piece when I take my next break. Chocolate and cherries are my favorite combination.”

“I know,” Hannah said. And then she headed out the door to tell Michelle that she was being transplanted from her mother’s guest room to Hannah’s guest room in the condo, and she didn’t have the slightest idea what their mother was writing.

Chapter Six

Hannah woke up with a cat on her head. Moishe had climbed up in an attempt to wake her so she’d shut off the alarm. When she didn’t sit up quickly enough, he batted at several unruly curls that were sticking out over her ear. And when that didn’t work, he gave an ear-splitting yowl that made his wishes abundantly clear.

“Okay, okay,” Hannah groaned, reaching out with one sleep-leaden arm to depress the alarm button on the clock. But the clock wasn’t where it was supposed to be, on the table right next to her bed. The bedside lamp wasn’t there either, and Hannah encountered a perfectly smooth surface. What was going on?

Moishe yowled again, and Hannah realized that what she’d heard wasn’t her alarm clock at all. It was coming from the television, and the clock belonged to a starlet whose face she didn’t recognize. Hannah watched for a moment through partially closed eyes. She’d fallen asleep on the couch last night during Casablanca. Since this wasn’t a young Ingrid Bergman, Hannah figured she was at least one, probably two features past her bedtime.

The starlet reached out to turn off the alarm clock and climbed out of bed with the sheet wrapped around her like a toga. As she walked across the bedroom set and disappeared through a door, Hannah wondered if anyone had ever pulled the sheet off the bed for modesty’s sake while they were alone in their bedroom. It seemed silly. You’d just have to remake the bed from scratch.

After one glance at the time, which was subtly displayed at the lower right-hand corner of the screen, Hannah clicked off the television with the remote control. It was almost four-thirty in the morning. Since she always set her alarm clock, the one in her bedroom, to go off at a quarter to five, it seemed silly to go to bed for fifteen minutes and count the seconds she had left before it was really time to get up.

A compelling scent wafted in from the kitchen to help Hannah make up her mind. The timer on her coffee pot had activated, and her morning brew was ready.

“Coffee,” she pronounced in a voice that was midway between a groan and a prayer. She needed caffeine, and she needed it fast, before the specter of another hot, muggy day would drive her to turn on the window air conditioner the former owners had installed in the bedroom and sleep until the unseasonable June heat wave headed east, or west, or anywhere far away from Lake Eden, Minnesota.

Hannah stood up and shivered slightly. She’d fallen asleep in her favorite summer sleep outfit, an extra-long, extra-large tank top in such an eye-popping shade of magenta that she hoped Moishe’s vet, Dr. Hagaman, was right and cats truly were color-blind. Not only was her sleepwear the wrong color choice for anyone with red hair, it was plastered to her skin in a manner her mother might call decidedly unladylike.

“Okay, I’m up,” Hannah declared to the orange and white tomcat who still wore the scars of his former life on the streets. She tugged her tank top back into place, got to her feet with what she thought was a minimum of groaning, and headed off to the kitchen. “Just let me pour a mug of Swedish Plasma and then I’ll get your breakfast.”

But Moishe didn’t follow her into the kitchen as he usually did. He didn’t even move from the back of the couch where he’d perched. And then everything came back in a rush of memory, and Hannah recalled why she’d been sleeping on the couch. She was worried about Moishe. He wasn’t eating. And she’d wanted to wake up and take note if she heard him crunching his food in the middle of the night.

Hannah had just poured her first, life-giving mug of coffee when she heard a voice that seemed to be coming from inside her condo.

“Is Moishe okay?” the voice asked.

Even in her sleep-deprived state, Hannah recognized that voice. It was Michelle, and she was staying in the guest room.

“Don’t know yet. Want coffee?” she managed to say, anything other than Pidgin English eluding her.

“I’ll get it. Just sit there and drink yours. Do you know your eyes aren’t open all the way?”

“No.”

“What time did Norman leave?”

“No numbers.” Hannah took a giant swig of coffee and felt it burn all the way down. It was worth it if it lifted the curtain of fog from her mind. “Never good at math in the morning.”

“I’m sorry I asked. Take another sip of your coffee. I won’t bother you again until you finish that mug.”

Hannah finished her coffee in several large, near-scalding swallows and held out her mug for more. By the time Michelle had set it on the table in front of her, the mists of sleep were starting to depart and she had glimpses of clarity. “Okay,” she said, giving her youngest sister a little smile, mostly because Michelle’s sleep outfit, a green cotton nightgown with miniature cows grazing all over it, was even more ridiculous than hers. “What did you ask me before?”

“I asked if Moishe was all right.”

“I’m not sure. I think I heard him eating something in the middle of the night, but that could have been wishful thinking.”

Michelle set her own mug down on the table and walked to Moishe’s food bowl. “How full was it last night?”

“It was up to the brim. It was even mounded a bit in the middle. I wanted him to have plenty if he got hungry and wanted a midnight snack.”

“Well, it’s not mounded on top anymore.”

“Really?” That information got Hannah out of her chair to join her sister at the food bowl. “You’re right. He definitely ate some kitty crunchies.”

“So you can stop worrying?” Michelle followed Hannah back to the table and sat down across from her.

“I’m not sure. He didn’t eat very much. He usually cleans his bowl during the night and yowls for more in the morning.”

“How about water?”

“He’s drinking. His water dish was full, too. He drank about half, and that’s what he usually drinks.”

“That’s a good sign, isn’t it?”

“I think so. It’s just not like him to turn down food. You saw what happened when Norman tried to give him fried chicken last night. He loves fried chicken, but last night he just sniffed it and walked away.”

Michelle leaned to the side so that she could see into the living room. “I think you’d better take him to the vet, Hannah. He’s sitting on the back of the couch again, just staring out the window. Maybe it’s just the hot weather and he doesn’t feel like eating much, but you’ll never forgive yourself if it’s something serious and you didn’t have Dr. Bob check him out.”

“You’re right. This is Tuesday, isn’t it?” When Michelle nodded, Hannah glanced at the clock over the table. It was five-fifteen, much too early to call for an appointment. “I’ll take my shower now, and I’ll call Sue at home at six.”

“Isn’t that kind of early?”

“Not really. Tuesday’s their half day and they’re open from seven to noon. That means they’re bound to be up if I call them at home at six. If I can get Moishe in right away at seven, I can run him back here and still get to work by eight-thirty.”

Michelle shook her head. “You can get to work by seven-thirty. I’ve got Mother’s car and I’ll follow you to town. I can bring Moishe back here with me and you can go straight to work.”

It was six-twenty when Hannah pulled up in the parking lot behind the Lake Eden Pet Clinic. When Michelle pulled into an adjoining parking space, Hannah picked up the bag of cookies she’d brought, grabbed Moishe’s leash, and got out of her cookie truck.

“Do you want me to carry something?” Michelle asked.

“All I’ve got is Moishe and the cookies. Moishe would rather walk on his own, and since you haven’t had breakfast yet, I’m not sure I should trust you with the cookies.”

“What kind are they?”

“Walnut-Date Chews.”

Michelle rolled her eyes heavenward. “I remember those! You used to make them for Dad. They taste almost like date nut bread, right?”

“Right.”

“I haven’t had them for so long!” Michelle looked at the bag hungrily. “And dates and nuts are so good for you.”

“They are?” Hannah asked, tugging a bit on the leash to get Moishe moving forward.

“They’re both heart healthy. Dates are especially good for your muscle tone, and walnuts prevent cellulite.”

Hannah’s eyes narrowed. Michelle sounded just a tad too convincing to be believed, and she was a theater arts major. “You just made that up, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but I love those cookies. And you haven’t made them in ages. Can I please have one, Hannah?”

“May I. And no, you may not. They’re for Dr. Bob and Sue for letting me bring Moishe in so early.”

“Not even one? They’re my all-time favorite cookies!”

“Absolutely not. But when you get home, there’s a bag just like this on the kitchen counter. You’ll find another two dozen in there.”

Michelle was grinning as Hannah knocked on the back door of the clinic. When she’d called, Sue had answered the phone from the clinic and she’d told Hannah that they always arrived an hour early when they had overnight patients.

“Hi, Hannah,” Sue said, opening the door. She spotted Michelle standing behind Hannah and gave her a friendly smile. “You looked really wonderful last night in the evening gown competition. Bob and I talked about it on the way home, and we’re so glad you won.”

“Thanks,” Michelle said, and Hannah noticed that her sister was blushing slightly. There were big differences between the three Swensen sisters. Andrea knew she was beautiful and took compliments in stride, Michelle didn’t realize how gorgeous she was and was still slightly embarrassed when someone complimented her, and Hannah had looked into the mirror enough times to know that if someone said she was beautiful, they probably wanted something from her. Except for their differing hair colors, Andrea and Michelle had inherited the gene for beauty from Delores. All three of them were petite with lovely features and figures that would not be out of place in a string bikini. Hannah had inherited her looks from her father, who had been tall with curly red hair and the tendency to put on more than a few extra pounds around the middle.

“What’s wrong with Moishe?” Michelle asked, bringing Hannah out of her musing.

Hannah looked down at the cat and began to frown. Moishe’s fur was bristling, his ears were down flat, and he was making a little growling noise in his throat. “I don’t know. He’s never been like this before.”

“Is he afraid of Dr. Bob?”

“No. He doesn’t absolutely love coming here, but he’s always walked right in before.” Hannah gave a little tug on the leash. “Come on, Moishe. Let’s go.”

But Moishe wasn’t going. He dug in his claws and refused to move, stopping dead at the threshold. No amount of coaxing or tugging would budge him, and Hannah was about to pick him up and carry him bodily into the building when Sue stopped her.

“Wait a second, Hannah. I think I know what’s wrong. Moishe’s never come in the back way before. Walk him around the building and I’ll let you in the front.”

“Okay, if you don’t mind. I hate to pick him up when he’s this rattled.”

Michelle slipped inside with Sue. Hannah was amazed to see that the moment the door closed, Moishe’s fur smoothed down and his ears perked up. The low growl he’d been giving subsided as she walked him around the side of the building. Was it possible Sue was right? This was the way they’d entered in the past when he had a regular appointment, and he didn’t seem to mind it at all.

“Here we are,” Hannah said, opening the front door the way she always did. And to her surprise, Moishe marched straight in and rubbed up against Sue’s ankles.

“This is really strange,” Hannah said, puzzled at his behavior.

Sue shook her head. “Not really. Pets are creatures of habit. They feel safe when their routine stays the same. Coming in the back way was a change in routine, and that made Moishe nervous.” She reached down to pet him, and Moishe started to purr. “Take him right in to examining room one, Hannah. Bob’s waiting for you.”

Less than fifteen minutes later, Moishe was in the car with Michelle on their way back to the condo, and Hannah was driving to The Cookie Jar. She was somewhat reassured when Dr. Bob hadn’t found anything wrong in his physical examination. All that remained was the lab work.

Since the patient didn’t speak English and Dr. Bob didn’t speak cat, Hannah had assumed the role of interpreter. Yes, Moishe was eating a bit of food, but much less than usual. And he’d been turning down treats that he loved like tuna, salmon, and fried chicken. No, she hadn’t seen any signs that his stomach was upset. Yes, he was drinking water. Yes, he was using his litter box. And no, she hadn’t switched his food. It was the same brand of kitty crunchies she’d always fed him. Her main concern was his odd behavior. He’d shown very little interest in looking out the windows before, but in the past two days he’d spent hours balancing on windowsills, staring fixedly out at nothing.

Hannah pulled up in her parking space, right next to Lisa’s old car, and hurried to the back door. But before she could reach for the knob, Lisa opened it.

“How’s Moishe?” she asked.

“I don’t know yet. Dr. Bob examined him, and when he couldn’t find anything wrong he took a blood sample.”

“When do you get the results?”

“I’m supposed to call in at noon. He said he should have a fax from the lab by then.” Hannah stepped inside and hung her purse on one of the hooks by the back door. She glanced at the baker’s racks and gave a little groan when she saw that Lisa had baked all the cookies without her. “I’m sorry you got stuck with all the baking. I’ll come in early tomorrow and make it up to you.”

“Don’t be silly. I know you’d do the baking alone if Herb got sick and I had to take him to the doctor.”

Hannah was about to tell her that it wasn’t the same thing, but she reconsidered. Perhaps it was.

“You look beat, Hannah. Sit down and I’ll get you a cup of coffee.”

“Thanks,” Hannah said, sinking down on a stool at the work island. She’d polished off a whole pot of coffee with Michelle, but she’d only gotten four hours of sleep and she could use a little more caffeine.

“Here you go.” Lisa placed a mug of coffee in front of her. “Do you know what Herb calls it?”

“Coffee?”

“No,” Lisa replied with a giggle. “I called it Swedish Plasma this morning, the way you always do, and he said we should call it Vitamin V.”

Hannah sifted through the possibilities in record time, but she couldn’t think of an appropriate word beginning with the letter V. “Okay, I’ll bite. What does the V stand for?”

“Vertical. Herb says it’s the only thing that gets him up on his feet in the morning.”

WALNUT-DATE CHEWS

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F., rack in the middle position.

1 cup melted butter (2 sticks, ½ pound)

3 cups brown sugar (pack it down in the cup when you measure it)

4 eggs, beaten (just stir them up in a glass with a fork until they’re a uniform color)

1 teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon baking soda

1 Tablespoon (3 teaspoons) vanilla extract

2 cups finely chopped walnuts (measure AFTER chopping)

1 cup chopped dates[***]

4 cups flour (don’t sift—pack it down in the cup when you measure it)

Melt the butter on HIGH in a microwave-safe container for 90 seconds, or in a small saucepan on the stove over low heat.

Transfer the melted butter to a large mixing bowl and add the brown sugar. Mix it well and let it cool to slightly above room temperature, just enough so that it won’t cook the eggs when you add them!

Mix in the beaten eggs. Stir until they’re thoroughly incorporated.

Add the salt, baking soda, and vanilla. Mix it all up together.

Mix in the walnuts and let the dough rest while you chop the dates.

You can chop your dates by hand with a knife, but it’s a lot easier in a food processor or blender. Just pit them first (of course), cut each one into two or three pieces with a knife, put them into the bowl of your food processor or blender, and sprinkle a little flour (approximately ¼ cup) on top. The flour will keep them from “gumming up” when you process them.

Measure one cup of chopped dates and add them to your mixing bowl. Stir them in thoroughly.

Add the flour in one-cup increments, mixing after each addition. This dough will be fairly stiff.

Form the dough into balls with your fingers. (Make them the size of a walnut with shell.) Place them on a greased cookie sheet, 12 to a standard sheet. (They will flatten a bit and spread out when they bake.)

Bake at 350 degrees for 10 to 12 minutes or until lightly browned. Let them cool on the rack for two minutes and then remove them to a wire rack to complete cooling.

These were my father’s favorites. Delores liked them, too.

Lisa says her dad likes these best with a dish of vanilla ice cream.

Chapter Seven

The display jars behind the counter in the coffee shop were filled with the day’s cookie offerings, tables were set up with napkins, sugar, artificial sweetener, and cream, and the thirty-cup coffee pot was perking merrily in preparation for the customers they might or might not have on this, the second day of the Tri-County Fair. Hannah and Lisa had just finished packing up the massive order of cookies for the Cookie Nook booth at the fairgrounds, and they were sitting on stools at the kitchen workstation, going over their weekly supply order.

“Another cup?” Lisa asked Hannah, gesturing toward the pot in the kitchen.

“Sure. One more and I might feel human.” Hannah smiled as Lisa fetched the pot and filled her mug. “Anything else we need?”

“I’m not sure. How are we doing on nuts?”

“We get more than we used to, but you really shouldn’t talk about our customers that way.”

Lisa stared at her for a split second, as if she’d lost her mind, and then she gave the giggle Hannah loved. “That’s funny!”

“Thank goodness. I thought I’d lost my sense of humor, but this last cup of coffee must have brought it back. Did you happen to notice how much oatmeal we have left? I promised Andrea I’d make her some more Swedish Oatmeal Cookies.”

“I thought Andrea didn’t like oatmeal.”

“She doesn’t, but she’s eating it now.” Hannah began to grin, relishing the fact she’d tricked her sister into eating it at last.

“There’s a story here.”

“Yes, there is. Remind me to tell you when we’ve got more time. Just remember that if she ever asks you, oatmeal is really good for your hair.”

“Your hair?”

“That’s right.” Lisa looked uncomfortable, and Hannah knew why. Her young partner hated to lie. “You don’t have to come right out and lie about it.”

“Okay. I’ll just smile, or not, or…” Lisa stopped talking as the back door opened and Andrea came in with Bethany in her arms. “Hi, Andrea. We were just talking about…”

“Bethany.” Hannah saved Lisa in midblurt. “And there she is now! Lisa wanted to know if she was crawling yet.”

“She’s crawling, I guess. If you can call it that.”

“What’s she doing?” Lisa asked, bringing Andrea a cup of coffee and a plate filled with cookies.

“I’ll show you.” Andrea set Bethany down on the floor.

Hannah began to smile. When Tracey was a baby, Andrea was convinced that she shouldn’t be in any environment that wasn’t antiseptically clean. She hadn’t even put her down on a clean blanket in her own living room. She hadn’t allowed any visitors except family for the first three months for fear baby Tracey might “catch” something. She’d sterilized everything, boiled the washcloths she used to bathe Tracey, and cried gallons of tears when she hadn’t produced enough milk to nurse her. She’d read all the cautionary books and exhausted herself trying to do everything the baby gurus had advised. And when anything went wrong and baby Tracey came down with a cold or didn’t finish her dinner, Andrea had felt she was a failure as a mother.

It was different this time, and Hannah was glad to see it. Andrea and Bill had a live-in nanny, Grandma McCann, who took care of Bethany while Andrea worked. The results were nothing short of remarkable. Andrea was able to have a good time with Bethany and relax around her.

“I don’t think she’s going to crawl,” Hannah said, gazing down at her perfectly beautiful, perfectly immobile niece.

“We’ll fix that.” Andrea pulled a stuffed rabbit from the diaper bag and set it a few feet in front of Bethany. “Go get it, Bethie. Show Aunt Hannah and Aunt Lisa how you crawl.”

Bethany sat there staring at her toy for a moment, and then she gave the sweetest smile Hannah had ever seen. It wasn’t clear if the smile was for the stuffed rabbit or them, but it didn’t really matter. Her youngest niece was simply adorable.

When Bethany moved, it was fast. She tucked one leg under her, leaned on it, and pushed off with the other leg. She repeated it several times, scooting toward the stuffed rabbit in spurts.

“See what I mean?” Andrea asked, smiling when her daughter reached the rabbit, grabbed it, and chewed on the ears. “It’s not really a crawl, but it works. Grandma McCann thinks it’s because we have hardwood floors. Crawling would be hard on her knees, so she scoots. It cracks me up every time I watch her. The way she tucks her leg up reminds me of something, but I don’t know what.”

Hannah thought about that for a moment, and the swimming classes she’d taken as a child flashed through her mind. They’d learned all sorts of swimming strokes and kicks, practicing them on the shore of Eden Lake and then in the lake itself. It wasn’t a flutter kick or a scissors kick, but there had been another that she’d never quite mastered and that one had been…

“The frog kick!” she said aloud.

Andrea turned to beam at her. “That’s exactly what it reminds me of, a sort of crooked frog kick. Mine were always crooked.”

“So were mine,” Hannah admitted. “And Michelle’s, too. It must be hereditary.”

“You’d better not let your mother hear you say that,” Lisa warned. “I don’t think she’d like being compared to a mother frog.”

“Right,” Hannah said, and gave a little wave as Lisa headed off to the coffee shop to open for business.

“I almost forgot why I drove over here,” Andrea said. “I’ve got news that’ll rock your world.”

“What?” Hannah asked, not believing it for a moment. Andrea tended to exaggerate when she had some juicy gossip to tell. Her news might be interesting, perhaps even mildly startling, but it certainly wouldn’t rock anyone’s world.

“I got this straight from Bertie at the Cut ’n Curl.” Andrea reached down to pick up Bethany, who’d managed to propel her way over to the work island. “Up you go, Bethie.”

“Let me hold her.” Hannah held out her arms and was rewarded by a wide, open-mouthed grin from Bethany.

Andrea handed the baby over, and then she retrieved a bottle of juice from the diaper bag and put it in front of Hannah. “She can have this. Bethie loves apple juice.”

Hannah settled the baby in the crook of her arm and uncapped the bottle of juice. When Bethany had the bottle and she’d begun to drink, Hannah turned back to her sister. Andrea didn’t look as if she’d just had her hair done. “So what were you doing at the Cut ’n Curl?”

“The Mother-Daughter look-alike luncheon is today, and I thought it might influence the judges if Tracey and I had the same hairstyle. Bertie’s doing Tracey’s now. Then she’s going to give Willa Sunquist a comb-out. She just had a cut and a color weave. When she finishes with Willa, she’ll do me.”

Hannah was surprised. Willa didn’t have much money, and a color weave was expensive. Perhaps her job as the chaperone for the Miss Tri-County contestants paid well. “Do you want me to keep Tracey and Bethany here while you have your hair done?”

Andrea shook her head. “Grandma McCann’s down at Bertie’s with Tracey. I just wanted to bring Bethie up to see you and give you the big news.”

“All right. Give.”

“Well, Bertie got it straight from Carrie. She’s the one who got the phone call.”

“What phone call?” Hannah asked, and she felt her frustration level jump up a notch. Andrea loved to drag things out when she had some juicy gossip. “Is it something about Norman?”

“It sure is. The secretary from the fairgrounds called Carrie this morning to tell her that the picture Norman took of you won first place in the photography competition.”

“That’s great!” Hannah exclaimed. This time Andrea’s news really was important. “Does Norman know?”

“He does, now. He was down at the café, and Carrie called him on his cell phone to tell him.”

“Thanks for coming here to tell me,” Hannah said. And then, because she just couldn’t resist, she followed it up with, “I’m really happy Norman won, but it didn’t exactly rock my world.”

“That’s because I haven’t told you the rocking-your-world part yet.”

With that, Andrea stopped speaking and grinned at her older sister. The only sound was Bethany sucking on her bottle of juice. Hannah let the absence of conversation go on. It was a test. The sister who spoke first lost.

Long moments passed without a word, and Hannah was amazed at her sister’s restraint. She really wanted to know Andrea’s news, but there was no way she was going to give in and ask. Just as she was beginning to waver—she had work to do and they couldn’t sit here like this all day—Andrea caved in.

“All right. I’ll tell you.” Andrea leaned forward as if she were about to impart a state secret. “Mike was sitting next to Norman when Carrie called and he heard the whole thing. And he bought Norman’s picture for five hundred dollars!”

“What?!”

“I told you it would rock your world!” Andrea looked smug.

“But…but why did Mike buy it? And why did he pay so much? I’m sure Norman would have made him a copy if he’d asked. And…”

“That’s all I know,” Andrea interrupted what promised to be a barrage of questions. “If you want to know more, you’re going to have to get it from the horse’s mouth.”

“Okay. I guess the horse’s mouth would be Norman. If Mike really did pay five hundred dollars for a photo of me, that makes him another part of the horse’s anatomy.”

“So what did he say?” Lisa asked, when Hannah got off the phone with Dr. Bob.

“The blood test was normal, right across the board,” Hannah reported. “More coffee?”

Lisa nodded, and Hannah filled a carafe with hot coffee and carried it to the back booth where they’d been sitting. Yesterday’s lack of customers was repeating itself today. They’d had only a few local businessmen in the morning, and a couple more for what usually was their noon rush. Now that noon had come and gone, the coffee shop was completely deserted.

Lisa reached for the carafe and poured more coffee for both of them. “What does he think you should do?”

“Nothing, at least for now. I’m supposed to change the food and water in his bowls every day so when Moishe starts eating again, it’ll be fresh. He says it won’t kill Moishe to lose a few pounds, and I shouldn’t worry. Pets sometimes go through periods of not eating. Just like humans, they lose their appetites for one reason or another.”

“Not me.”

“Me neither,” Hannah said, reverting to the vernacular of her childhood.

Hannah was manning the counter in front while Lisa packed cookies. There was only one table filled at The Cookie Jar, a young couple who’d told Hannah they were just passing through town on their way up north. She’d already wiped down the counter and straightened the display jars, and now she was sitting on the tall stool by the cash register, looking out the window and wondering whether Mike had really purchased Norman’s photograph of her.

Hannah supposed it was possible, considering the changing dynamics between Mike and Norman. When Ross Barton had come to Lake Eden to film Crisis in Cherrywood, the two rivals had banded together to keep her from getting too serious about him. But now that Ross was gone, Norman and Mike were rivals again and each one was trying to outdo the other. Norman’s picture of her had won a blue ribbon. That was one point for him. And Mike had purchased it for more money than most people would spend. That tied the score. Just as Hannah was wondering what shenanigans would be next, the two men in question came in the door.

“Hi, Hannah!” Norman took a seat at the counter while Mike hung up his sheriff’s department windbreaker on the coat rack by the front door. “Did you hear that the picture I took of you won a blue ribbon?”

Hannah gave him a warm smile. “I heard. Congratulations!”

“And did you hear about the new artwork I’m going to hang over my couch in the living room?” Mike asked, taking the stool next to Norman’s.

“I heard that you bought Norman’s photograph, if that’s what you mean,” Hannah said. “Coffee for both of you?”

Hannah busied herself behind the counter, filling mugs and delivering their cookie orders. Once that was done, she took up a position behind the counter, midway between them, and waited to see what would happen.

For a moment all they did was crunch their cookies and sip their coffee. Mike had two Chocolate Highlander Cookie Bars, and Hannah was glad. The endorphins in the chocolate might take the edge off his tendency to challenge Norman.

Norman had ordered two Peanut Butter Melts. No help there. Hannah didn’t think that peanut butter had endorphins, but it probably wouldn’t make much difference. Like oil and water, Norman and Mike needed an emulsifier to mix, and that emulsifier was friendship. They truly did like each other. But both of them had a tendency to play one-upmanship whenever she was around. And when they started that particular game, Hannah felt obliged to referee.

The tension grew right along with the silence until, at last, Mike cleared his throat. “Did you hear how much I paid for your picture?” he asked, dipping his paddle into the waters first.

“Andrea told me it was five hundred dollars. Did you really pay that much?”

“You bet I did.”

Hannah turned to Norman. “And you charged him that much?”

“I didn’t charge him. That’s the price the judges set. All the photographs get auctioned off on the final day of the fair, and the money goes to charity. If you want to buy an entry before that, you have to pay the price the judges set.”

Hannah turned to Mike. “Why didn’t you wait for the auction? You might have gotten it cheaper.”

Mike shook his head. “It’s a silent auction and you only get one bid. Somebody could have outbid me and then I would have lost you.”

“Then you would have lost a photograph of me,” Hannah corrected him, “a photograph that your friend Norman took. I’m sure he would have made you a copy if you’d asked him.”

“I didn’t want to ask. You really look good in that picture, Hannah. You’ve got this…I don’t know…kind of dreamy expression on your face. I know you were thinking about me.”

Norman shook his head. “No, she wasn’t. She was thinking about me.”

Uh-oh! Hannah thought, Let the games begin. She had to stop them both in their tracks and there was only one way to do it.

“Wrong!” she exclaimed. “I wasn’t thinking of either of you. I was remembering how Grandma Ingrid’s chocolate cashew pie tasted and wondering if I could make it.”

“It must have been really good,” Mike said, and Hannah could tell he didn’t completely believe her.

“It was. Unfortunately, she didn’t write down the recipe and I’m still trying to recreate it.”

“Let us know when you get it,” Norman said, giving her a look that told Hannah he hadn’t bought her explanation either.

Hannah mentally kicked herself as she wiped down the already immaculate counter. What on earth had possessed her to rave about a pie her grandmother had never baked? Was there such a thing as a chocolate cashew pie? Hannah had never heard of one, but now that she’d stuck her foot in her mouth, she’d better come up with a recipe.

“Did you buy it?” Lisa asked when Hannah came back from Beau Monde.

“Of course.”

“Are you going to wear it to the fair tonight?”

Hannah shook her head. “No. I’m going out there at seven to watch Michelle in the bathing suit competition, but nobody’s going to pay any attention to me. And later, when I judge the pies, I might spill something on it. It’s gorgeous, Lisa. When Claire says she has something that would look great on you, she means it.”

“I know. She picked out the dress I wore for the wedding. And that reminds me of Marge. Just so you won’t be surprised, Marge submitted a pie for the baked goods contest tonight.”

“She did?” Hannah was surprised. Marge baked wonderful cakes, but she wasn’t known for her pies. “What kind of pie did she bake?”

“She used one of Mom’s apple pie recipes. I couldn’t do it myself because I’m your partner and that makes me a professional baker. But Marge tasted it, and she thought it was so good she wanted to enter it.”

“I can hardly wait to taste it. But Lisa…I can’t give it any special consideration just because it’s your mother’s recipe.”

“I know that, and so does Marge. We just wanted to tell you that it was coming.”

“Thanks, Lisa.”

“Herb and I are going out to the fair at six with Marge and Dad. Do you want me to take the boxes of cookies to the Cookie Nook booth?”

“That would be great.” Hannah was glad to be relieved of the task. “Then I’ll have time to stop by the hospital and bring Edna some cookies.”

“I’ll pack them up for you. How many do you need?”

“Six dozen assorted ought to do it.”

Lisa’s eyes widened in surprise. “That’s a lot of cookies for just one person.”

“Oh, it won’t be just one person. I told Doc’s secretary I’d bring cookies, and she’s probably told the nurses by now. They’ll be in and out of Edna’s room until the whole six dozen are gone. Edna’s going to get round-the-clock nursing care, even if she doesn’t need it.”

Chapter Eight

Hannah couldn’t seem to keep the smile off her face. Michelle had taken second place in the bathing suit competition, and she was proud of her baby sister. That was enough to make anyone smile, but she had a second reason. Hannah was having a great time tasting pies. She liked them almost as much as she liked cookies.

All in all, it had been a good day. Hannah cut off the tip of an entry, a piece of peach pie with a little vanilla custard in the filling. The crust was tender and flaky, the peaches still held their shape and weren’t overbaked, and the custard was so rich and creamy it could have gone solo and starred in its own pie.

“I take it you like this one?” Pam asked, pulling Hannah out of her reverie.

“Yes, it’s delicious.”

“We could tell. You were practically purring when you tasted it.” Pam turned to Willa. “What do you think?”

“I’m still deciding. I need another taste to be sure.” Willa ran one hand through her hair, a gesture Hannah had seen her make before when she was considering the merits of a particular entry. But instead of causing her hair to tangle, as it had in the past, Willa’s new layered haircut bounced right back into place.

“Have I told you I like your new haircut?” Hannah asked.

“Yes. I told Bertie I wanted a new look, and this is what she came up with. I really like it, too. And it’s a good thing I do, because I’m going to be eating nothing but peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for the next month and a half.”

“That’s a new outfit, isn’t it?” Pam asked, turning from the sideboard, where she was cutting into the next pie, to look at Willa.

“Yes. Everybody down at the Cut n’ Curl said my new look wouldn’t be complete without a new outfit. I bought it this morning right after I got my hair done.”

“It’s a gorgeous dress,” Hannah said a bit enviously, “and it’s perfect for you. Claire has something like it down at Beau Monde.”

“Not anymore. I bought it.”

Hannah was surprised. Clothing at Claire’s boutique was expensive, even if you got a good neighbor discount the way she did. And everything Claire carried was classic. Willa’s new summer sundress was a throwback to the fifties with a circle skirt and a sleeveless top with a matching bolero jacket. It was made of polished cotton in a gorgeous shade of light coral that Hannah wished she could wear.

“New hair and a new dress?” Pam looked very surprised. “Did you come into some money you didn’t tell me about?”

“No. I put this on my credit card, and I’ll have my check from the beauty contest organizers before the bill comes in. I really hated to max out my card, but…I just had to do it.”

Pam cocked her head and gave Willa a scrutinizing look. “There’s got to be a man involved,” she said. “How about it, Willa?”

“There’s always a man involved, isn’t there?” Willa gave a little laugh.

Hannah could see that Willa was embarrassed. Her cheeks were turning pink. But Pam didn’t seem to want to let it go.

“Remember when we went to see Madame Zaar at the school carnival?” she asked Willa.

“Of course.” Willa looked a bit relieved, and Hannah could tell she thought that Pam had changed the subject. “I thought Mrs. Purvis was perfect as a fortune teller.”

“It was a great outfit,” Hannah agreed. The principal’s wife, Kathy Purvis, had looked so different in her costume that hardly anyone had recognized her.

“She predicted that a tall, dark, handsome stranger would come into your life,” Pam reminded her with a grin. “I’ll have to tell her that she was right.”

“She wasn’t right. He hasn’t come into my life…at least not yet.”

Hannah watched as the color rose in Willa’s cheeks again. She was trying to be flippant, but it was obvious she didn’t want to discuss the man in question. To save her the discomfort of further probing by her supervising teacher, Hannah decided to change the subject. “Whoever he is, he’s going to love the color of your dress,” she said. “I wish I could wear that color, but my dad won’t let me.”

“Your dad?” Pam looked confused. “But…didn’t your father die a couple of years ago?”

“He did, but his red hair lives on through me. I can’t wear red, pink, maroon, coral, or peach unless I want to cause traffic accidents. I guess I’ll just have to eat my heart out. And speaking of eating…I’m ready for the next entry. How about you, Willa?”

“I’ll be ready just as soon as I fill out this scorecard.” Willa filled it out quickly and handed it to Pam. “Okay, I’m ready. What’s the next pie?”

“Key lime.”

Willa gave a little sigh. “I love key lime pie, but I bet it’s not made from real key limes.”

“Then you lose,” Pam said, flipping over the card. “It says so right here…key limes, freshly squeezed.”

“But are they really?” Willa wanted to know.

“Yes. Here’s a letter from the contestant. She says her daughter flew to Mexico on vacation and brought the key limes back with her.”

“Mexico?” Willa sounded surprised. “I thought key limes came from Florida.”

Hannah shook her head. “Not so much anymore. There are still a few growers down there, but key limes aren’t an easy crop to produce. They’re susceptible to all sorts of things. They grow much better in Mexico. If you see key limes in a grocery store, that’s probably where they’re from.”

“Here’s a photo,” Pam said, passing it over to them. “The little ones are key limes, and they’re right next to a lemon so you can see how small they are.”

“They look like Rainier cherries before they turn color, except they’re a little bigger. And I bet they’re harder to pick.”

“You’ve seen cherries growing?” Pam turned to look at her in surprise.

“Oh, yes. I learned more about cherries than I ever wanted to know when I was in Washington.”

“D.C.?” Hannah asked.

“Washington State. We picked cherries in the Yakima Valley for a couple of weeks. A Rainier cherry is a cross between a Bing cherry and a Van cherry. It was developed at Washington State University over fifty years ago, and the mother tree is still there.”

“I’ve heard of Rainier cherries,” Hannah said. “They’re sweeter than Bing cherries, aren’t they?”

“A lot sweeter. Washington State won’t let you sell cherries that aren’t at least seventeen brix. The orchard we worked for didn’t pick them until they were at least twenty brix.”

“Bricks?” Pam asked, looking totally puzzled.

“Brix with an X,” Hannah explained. “It’s a measure of sweetness. Peaches are around thirteen brix.”

Pam still looked puzzled. “What were you doing in Washington State?”

“Working. I took some time off and traveled with…a friend. And whenever we got low on money, we worked. Can we have that sample now, Pam? I want to see how sweet it is.”

“Okay,” Pam said, carrying the samples to the table and setting them down. “Let’s see if those key limes really make a difference.”

Willa looked down at hers and frowned. “Are you sure this is the right pie?”

“It said key lime on the entry form. Why?”

“I saw a lot of key lime pie when I was in Florida. I think it’s the state pie, or something like that. But those pies were green.”

Pam looked surprised. “You were in Florida, too?”

“Yes. We went down south during the winter and we stayed a while in Florida. Almost every restaurant has it on the menu down there.”

“It’s supposed to be only as green as key lime juice,” Hannah said, examining her slice. The key lime filling under the meringue was yellow with just a hint of green. It was exactly the way key lime pie was supposed to look.

“If you see a slice that’s green, the baker used food coloring,” Pam told Willa. “Some restaurants do that.”

Willa looked thoughtful. “That makes sense. It’s probably so the waitresses can tell at a glance that it’s not lemon meringue. The restaurant where I worked had both. I might have mixed them up if the key lime pie hadn’t been green.”

“This one’s a little more yellow than the others I’ve seen,” Hannah said, glancing down at her piece again. “I wonder how many egg yolks she used for the filling?”

Pam flipped the card over to read the recipe. “Two whole eggs plus three yolks. No wonder it looks so yellow.”

“I’ll bet it’s good,” Hannah said. “Let’s taste.”

For a long moment all was silent and then Hannah gave a blissful sigh. “Wonderful!”

“It’s real key lime pie,” Willa said, licking her lips. “It’s not quite as sweet as the one we served, and I like that.”

Pam agreed. “I’d say this is almost perfect. And the contestant’s made a little note here. She says that if you can’t find key limes, you can also make this pie with regular limes. The lime flavor won’t be quite as intense, but it’ll still be delicious.”

“Too bad she didn’t bake one with regular limes,” Willa said. “I’d like to taste the difference.”

Pam went back to the table and picked up three more plates. “She did. This one has regular lime juice.”

Again, there was silence as all three of them tasted. Hannah was the first to speak. “She’s right. The flavor from the regular limes isn’t as tangy, but it’s really delicious.”

“Agreed.” Willa gave a little nod. “I like her crust, too. It tastes like shortbread cookies.”

Pam looked up with a smile. “And the meringue is perfect. I’m giving it perfect scores right across the board.”

“Me, too,” Hannah said, handing over her scorecard.

“I’m with you two.” Willa handed in her scorecard. “It’s the best pie I’ve tasted tonight. How many more do we have to go?”

Pam got up to check. “The key lime was the last of the meringue pies. We’ve already done the one-crust pies with crumb toppings and the one-crust with whipped cream toppings like the pumpkin and the sweet potato.”

“Right.” Hannah leaned back and took a sip of water. “We did the latticework crust pies, too. The blueberry won, remember?”

“It was good,” Willa said. “Usually they’re much too sweet. And the first group we tasted was the two-crust fruit pies. Does that mean we’re through?”

“Not quite,” Pam answered her question. “We still have to taste the novelty pies.”

Hannah began to frown. “Wait a second. Lisa told me that Marge Beeseman entered an apple pie. I don’t remember tasting it.”

“Neither do I,” Willa said. “We tasted five apple pies, and none of them were hers.”

Pam glanced down at the packet she’d received from the judging committee, and then she looked up with a frown. “It’s on here as a novelty pie.”

“Novelty?” Hannah was surprised. “But novelty pies are pies that don’t fit into any other category.”

“Or pies that have unusual ingredients,” Pam reminded her.

Willa thought about that for a moment. “Well, it certainly fits into the two-crust fruit pie category, so it must have an unusual ingredient. Why don’t you check the recipe, Pam?”

“I can’t. We don’t get the novelty pie recipes. They don’t want us to know what’s in them until we judge them.”

“Because if we knew the unusual ingredient, it might prejudice us?” Hannah guessed.

“That’s right.”

“But what could be that unusual?” Willa asked.

“I’m not sure.” Pam turned to Hannah. “Any ideas?”

“Several. Have you ever eaten my Mystery Cookies?”

“Lots of times. I love those cookies,” Pam stated.

“They’re the best spice cookie I’ve ever had,” Willa echoed the sentiment.

“If I’d told you the mystery ingredient, you might not have tasted them in the first place.”

“We already said we love them,” Pam said, “and we’re not about to change our minds. Right, Willa?”

“You can tell us the mystery ingredient now,” Willa said.

“Tomato soup,” Hannah said. And when they just sat there stunned, she got up to slice the first novelty pie.

KEY LIME PIE

Preheat your oven to 325 degrees F., rack in the middle position.

The Crust:

Make your favorite graham cracker or cookie crumb crust (or buy one pre-made at the grocery store—I used a shortbread crust).

The Filling:

5 eggs

14-ounce can sweetened condensed milk ½ teaspoon lemon zest (optional)[***]

½ cup sour cream

½ cup key lime juice ****

¼ cup white (granulated) sugar

Crack one whole egg into a medium-sized mixing bowl. Separate the remaining 4 eggs, placing the 4 yolks into the bowl with the whole egg and the 4 whites into another mixing bowl. Leave the bowl with the 4 whites on your counter. They need to warm a bit for the meringue you’ll make later.

Whisk the whole egg and the egg yolks until they’re a uniform color. Stir in the can of sweetened condensed milk. Add the lemon zest, if you decided to use it, and the sour cream. Stir it all up and set the bowl aside.

Juice the limes and measure out ½ cup of juice in a small bowl.

Hannah’s 1st Note: Key limes aren’t easy to juice. They’re very small and a regular lime juicer won’t work very well. I just roll them on my counter, pressing them down with my palm, until they’re a little soft. Then I cut them in half on a plate (so that I can save any juice that runs out), hold each half over a measuring cup, and squeeze them with my fingers. It’s a little messy, but it works.

Add the ¼ cup sugar to the key lime juice and stir until the sugar has dissolved. Now add the sugared lime juice to the bowl with your egg mixture and whisk it in.

Pour the filling you just made into the graham cracker or cookie crust.

Bake the pie at 325 degrees F. for 20 minutes. Take it out of the oven and set it on a rack to wait for its meringue.

DON’T TURN OFF THE OVEN! Instead, increase the oven temperature to 350 degrees F. to bake the meringue.

The Meringue: (This is a whole lot easier with an electric mixer!)

4 egg whites (the ones you saved)

½ teaspoon cream of tartar

a pinch of salt 1/3 cup white (granulated) sugar

Add the cream of tartar and salt to the bowl with your egg whites and mix them in. Beat the egg whites on HIGH until they form soft peaks.

Continue to beat at high speed as you sprinkle in the sugar. When the egg whites form firm peaks, stop mixing and tip the bowl to test the meringue. If the egg whites don’t slide down the side, they’re ready.

Spread the meringue over the filling with a clean spatula, sealing it to the edges of the crust. When the pie is covered with meringue, either “dot” it with the flat side of the spatula to make points in the meringue, OR smooth it out into a dome and make circular grooves with the tip of your spatula from the outside rim to the center, to create a flower-like design.

Bake the pie at 350 degrees F. for an additional 12 minutes.

Remove the pie from the oven, let it cool to room temperature on a wire rack, and then refrigerate it if you wish. This pie can be served at room temperature, or chilled. It will be easier to cut and serve if it’s chilled.

(To keep your knife from sticking to the meringue when you cut the pie, dip the blade in cold water.)

Hannah’s 2nd Note: Key lime juice is a very pale green color, midway between green and yellow. The eggs and egg yolks added to the filling will color it more yellow than green. If you see a key lime pie that’s green inside, the baker added green food coloring.

Chapter Nine

They’d tasted three out of the four entries in the novelty pie category, and they were equally divided. Hannah liked the peanut butter cream pie with the chocolate crust the best, Willa preferred the vanilla ice cream pie with caramel sauce, and Pam was intrigued by the four-layer concoction with peach jam, baker’s custard, vanilla wafers and M&Ms.

“I can’t believe you really like it,” Hannah said, once Pam had told them her favorite.

“I can’t either, but I think the contestant deserves some sort of consideration for making something completely different.”

“Let’s see if we can agree on the apple,” Willa said, getting up to cut them a sample.

“How does it slice?” Hannah asked.

“Beautifully. And it maintains its shape on the plate.”

“It looks good,” Pam said when Willa had brought their plates. “And it smells wonderful!”

“Cinnamon, lemon, and…nutmeg?” Hannah did her best to identify the scents for them. “Pass me those coffee beans, will you?”

Pam passed over the canister of coffee beans the head judge at the rose competition had given them. He’d told Pam that sniffing coffee beans or freshly ground coffee between other scents refreshed the nose.

“Does that actually work?” Willa wanted to know.

“It seems to,” Hannah answered her. “That third scent is definitely nutmeg. I can smell it now.”

Again the room was silent as Hannah and her companions tasted Marge’s pie. Pam took a sip of water and tasted again. “I’d say the spices are perfect.”

“Agreed,” Willa said, “and the crust is flaky and a little sweet. I like that.”

Hannah gave a little sigh. “I’d be happier if the apples had a little more texture, but other than that, it’s a winner.”

“So you think it takes the novelty pie category?” Pam asked.

“Yes,” Hannah said.

“Definitely,” Willa agreed. “It’s even better than my grandmother’s pie, and that’s going some.”

“So it takes first in the category?” Both Willa and Hannah nodded, and Pam held out her hand for their score sheets. “Okay. We’ve got the winners in all categories. Now all we have to do is tally the scores, pick the best pie of them all, and we’re through.”

With Willa on the calculator and Hannah reading the scorecards aloud, it didn’t take long to tally the results. The key lime pie took first prize overall, Marge’s apple pie took second, and a delicious pineapple custard pie took third.

Once the goodies were divided, the three judges headed for the door. Pam went to hand in the master scorecard, and Hannah and Willa lingered at the top of the steps.

“Are you sure you don’t want this?” Hannah asked, glancing down at the key lime pie she was carrying. “I know you loved it, and it’s not like I need it or anything.”

“I’d love to take it, but I’m not going straight home. I have to meet someone and I don’t know how long that’ll take.”

“Okay,” Hannah said, glad that she’d asked and even gladder that Willa hadn’t taken the pie. Michelle had a date with Lonnie, and she’d share it with them when they got back to the condo. “See you tomorrow, then.”

“Yes. Tell Michelle…” Willa stepped a little closer and lowered her voice. “Tell her that I hope she wins. She’s the nicest of all the contestants. Of course I can’t say that directly to her.”

“I understand.” Hannah smiled as Willa walked away. It seemed the youngest Swensen sister had made another friend. She could hardly wait to tell Michelle that Willa was pulling for her.

“Hannah?” a voice called out.

Hannah turned to look and she gave a little wave as she saw Lisa and Herb walking through the crowd of 4-H kids hanging around the entrance to their building. “I didn’t know you’d be at the fair tonight.”

“We came with Marge and Dad,” Lisa explained. “I know you probably shouldn’t tell us, but how did Marge’s pie do?”

“I shouldn’t tell you, but the results will be posted tomorrow morning, so it doesn’t really make any difference. It took second place.”

“Fantastic!” Lisa did a little high-five with Herb. “Then you must have liked it?”

“It was a really good apple pie.”

“But?” Herb caught the hesitation in her voice.

“But…I thought the apples were just a bit overcooked. I wish they’d had just a bit more texture.”

Hannah watched in amazement as Lisa let out a whoop and dissolved into laughter. Herb laughed right along with her, and then they exchanged another high-five.

“What?” Hannah asked.

“The apples couldn’t have more texture,” Lisa said, grinning at her.

“Why not?”

“Because…they weren’t apples!” Herb finished the explanation.

“What?!” Hannah was astounded, and it took her a full minute to recover. When she did, she posed the obvious question. “If they weren’t apples, what were they?”

“Soda crackers,” Lisa and Herb said in unison. And then they held on to each other and collapsed into gales of laughter again.

Hannah gave them a minute. They were obviously deranged. “Soda crackers?” she asked at last.

“Saltines, to be exact,” Lisa told her. “And Marge owes us ten dollars. She thought you’d guess, but you didn’t.”

Hannah gave a little groan. Both Lisa and Jack had mentioned Lisa’s mother’s mock apple pie with soda crackers instead of apples, but she’d fallen for it anyway. “Okay. You guys win. I really thought they were apples.”

“I think it’s the lemon juice,” Lisa said, giving her an out. “Mom always said it tickles the taste buds into believing you’re eating apples. And the spices help, too.”

“Your mother was right. I never suspected that the pie wasn’t made from apples.”

“I can hardly wait to collect our bet,” Herb said, giving Lisa a little hug. Then he turned to Hannah. “Do you want to tell Mom that she won a red ribbon? We’re meeting them at the Ferris wheel in five minutes.”

Hannah glanced at her watch. It was past nine-thirty, and she had two stops to make before she was through for the night. “You two tell her. It’ll be official any minute now. I still have a couple of things left to do and then I’m heading home.”

“Did Moishe eat anything yet?” Herb asked her.

“Not much. He crunched a little dry food, but that was it.”

“Lisa and I bought this for him.” Herb handed her a white plastic bag with the words THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATRONAGE printed on the side in green script.

“What is it?”

“A Paul Bunyan burger,” Lisa answered. “We had them leave off the onions and the steak sauce, so it’s mostly just meat. It’s really good beef, and Herb thought maybe Moishe would eat it if you warmed it up a little in the microwave.”

Hannah was touched. It was very sweet of Herb and Lisa to be so concerned about Moishe. “I’ll try it on him the minute I get home,” she promised. “Thanks from both of us.”

After Lisa and Herb had left, Hannah hurried in the opposite direction. She was going to stop by the Lake Eden Historical Society booth to assess the possibility of contracting swimmer’s ear during her scheduled stint on the dunking stool. Delores had said the bull’s eye was small and difficult to hit, but Hannah wasn’t sure she believed her mother. After all, this was the same mother who’d tricked her into donning a frilly dress and sitting on the stool in the first place!

“And here she is now!” Delores called out, as Hannah approached the booth. “Now we can get it right from the horse’s mouth.”

Hannah felt like giving a loud whinny, but of course she didn’t. She might have if she’d known all the customers gathered in front of the counter.

It was obvious that Delores was playing queen bee again. She was dressed in a bright yellow pantsuit that highlighted her perfect figure like a beacon. With her dark, beautifully styled hair, perfect makeup, and a tan that Hannah suspected came from hours under a sun lamp, Delores looked closer to forty than sixty. Norman’s mother, Carrie, a plump bleached blonde, appeared to be several decades older in comparison.

“Hi, Mother,” Hannah said, stepping up as the crowd miraculously parted for her. It was a little like Moses parting the Red Sea. Hannah almost made a crack about that, but she reminded herself that her mother might make the bull’s eye larger if she was upset with Hannah’s attitude, so she didn’t do that, either.

“We were just talking about the pie judging, dear.” Delores reached out to pat the shoulder of a rail-thin woman with lovely white hair. “This is Cora Gruman. She lives across the street from the lady who baked the Key Lime Pie. Did you like it?”

Hannah knew her mother was fishing, but there was no reason not to tell her. “We all liked it…a lot. We gave it the blue ribbon.”

“Marvelous!” Delores and Cora looked absolutely delighted, just as if they’d baked the pie themselves. “How about second place? Can you tell us that?”

“Marge Beeseman’s Mock Apple Pie.”

“Mock apple?” Delores looked puzzled. “Is that a new type of fruit?”

Hannah just smiled. “It’s a very special pie, Mother. It’s Lisa’s mom’s recipe, and I’ll bake it for you sometime. And a lady from Browerville came in third with her pineapple custard pie. Her first name was Doreen, I think.

“Oh, my!” A heavyset woman with frizzy brown hair began fanning herself with a Lake Eden Historical Society brochure.

“That’s her pie,” the lady standing next to her explained. “She told me she didn’t think it could win because she put in too much pineapple.”

Hannah laughed. “That’s one of the things we liked about it.”

As the ladies wandered off by twos and threes, Hannah walked around the corner of the booth to see precisely what she’d be facing when she assumed the position of dunkee on Saturday afternoon.

Florence Evans, the owner of the Lake Eden Red Owl Grocery, was sitting on the stool. She looked happy enough, and Hannah noticed that her clothing was dry, so perhaps this wouldn’t be as bad as she’d thought.

“Hi, Hannah!” Florence greeted her with a smile. “Want to try to dunk me? Only five dollars for three balls, and it goes to a good cause.”

“Sure. Where do I buy the balls?”

“Right around the corner from your mother, or Carrie.”

Hannah retraced her steps. Her mother was still knee-deep in conversation with two ladies who hadn’t gone to see the posted results of the pie contest, but Carrie was free. Hannah told her she wanted to buy three balls and forked over a five-dollar bill. A moment later, she was standing in front of the target, wondering how close she could come to hitting it.

“Ready, Florence?” she asked.

“I’m ready.”

“Okay. I’ll give it my best try.”

“Make it your second-best try,” Florence said with a laugh. “I’m through in twenty minutes, and I’d like to stay dry.”

Hannah threw three balls, missing with each by a country mile. “You’re still dry,” she said when she’d finished.

“And I’m grateful. Did you miss on purpose?”

“No. I’ve never been any good at pitching balls. And I figured that if I tried to miss, I might just hit the bull’s-eye. So I just aimed for it and hoped my natural nonexistent talent would keep you dry.”

“Whatever. It worked.” Florence looked over Hannah’s shoulder and groaned.

Hannah turned around to see a tall, lanky young man approaching. He waved at Florence, and then he went around the corner of the booth. “What’s the matter?” she asked Florence.

“That’s Bernie Fulton.”

Hannah let that sink in, but the light failed to dawn. “Who’s Bernie Fulton?”

“He’s a pitcher on the Twins farm team. Everybody says they’re going to bring him up from triple A by the end of the season. He’s pitched three no-no’s, and that’s practically unheard of.”

“No-no’s?”

“No runs, no hits.”

“Then he’s very good!”

“The best.” Florence gave another little groan. “He’s dunked every single woman volunteer at least once.”

“But why?”

“For the publicity. At least that’s what he told the other women before he dunked them.”

Both Hannah and Florence waited breathlessly. Was Bernie going to do it again, or had he gone on to another booth? A few seconds later, their question was answered as he reappeared, juggling three baseballs in one hand.

“Ready?” he asked Florence.

Florence sighed in resignation. “I’m as ready as I’m ever going to be.”

“It’s nothing personal. I’m just trying to get publicity so they’ll bring me up early. And don’t forget that my publicity is your publicity, too. Delores just told me that contributions tripled since they ran that television spot on the sports news last night.”

Hannah glanced around. Sure enough, there was Wingo Jones with his cameraman, ready to capture Florence’s dunking for the KCOW sports news. “Hang in there, Florence,” she said, giving the object of Bernie Fulton’s publicity a sympathetic glance. “I’ll go get you a towel.”

As she hurried around the corner of the booth, Hannah heard three sounds in rapid succession: a thud, a shriek, and a loud splash. Bernie Fulton was impressive. It sounded as if he’d succeeded with his first pitch.

“Take this to Florence, will you dear?” Delores handed Hannah a fluffy bath towel without being asked, and Hannah got the impression she’d known exactly what was going to happen.

“Thanks.” Hannah grabbed the towel and rushed back to Florence to help her dry off. It was only after Florence had resumed her place on the stool and Hannah was walking away that she realized Bernie “No-No” Fulton had called her mother Delores.

Hannah’s eyes narrowed, and she turned back to give her mother an assessing look. Delores waved and assumed a perfectly guileless smile that didn’t fool Hannah for a second. Bernie obviously knew Delores. And Delores knew the evening news crew at KCOW Television, including the sports commentator, Wingo Jones. She’d also expected that Bernie would dunk Florence because she’d had the towel ready and waiting. Was it possible that her mother had set everything up to garner more publicity and more donations for her favorite project?

“Uh-oh,” Hannah said with a sigh, turning on her heel and heading off in the direction of the Sinful Pleasures booth. She needed a deep-fried Milky Way, and she needed it now. There was no doubt in her mind that Delores intended to sacrifice every one of her frilly-dressed volunteers, including her eldest daughter, to the huge tank of water that was positioned beneath the dunking stool at the Lake Eden Historical Society booth.

MOCK APPLE PIE

Preheat oven to 450 degrees F., rack in the center position

Yes, that’s four hundred and fifty degrees F. and not a misprint.

Use your favorite piecrust recipe to make enough pastry for an eight-inch double crust pie. [***]

Assemble the following ingredients:

20 salted soda crackers

¼ to ½ cup softened butter

1½ cups cold water

1½ cups white (granulated) sugar

3 Tablespoons lemon juice (freshly squeezed is best)

1 teaspoon cinnamon ½ teaspoon nutmeg

1½ teaspoons cream of tartar

Butter the soda crackers (I ended up using just a bit over a quarter-cup of butter to do this), put the buttered crackers in the saucepan, and break them up into fairly large pieces with a wooden spoon.

Add the water, sugar, lemon juice, cinnamon, nutmeg, and cream of tarter. Give everything a good stir with your spoon and bring the mixture to a boil over medium to high heat on the stovetop.

Once the boil has been reached, turn down the heat and simmer for exactly two minutes.

Set the saucepan aside on a cold burner.

Divide your piecrust dough in half and roll out the bottom crust large enough to line an 8-inch pie plate.

Pour the soda cracker mixture into the lined pie plate and cover it with the top crust. Crimp the edges together. Cut a couple of slits in the top crust to let out the steam while the pie bakes.

Bake the pie at 450 degrees F., for 15 to 20 minutes, or until the top crust is nicely browned.

Cool and serve.

Jo’s Note: This pie has fooled everyone every single time I’ve served it!

Lisa says she likes this pie best with vanilla ice cream. Herb prefers it with cinnamon ice cream. Lisa’s dad likes to accompany it with a slice of sharp cheddar. Herb’s mom likes hers with sweetened whipped cream.

Chapter Ten

Hannah set her Key Lime Pie down on the counter and waited until Ruby had finished waiting on three giggling girls and an overweight man who kept glancing over his shoulder.

“Hi, Hannah,” Ruby said when everyone had left. “Are you ready to try that candy bar yet?”

“I’m ready. I need a dose of carbs and chocolate.”

“What’s wrong?”

Hannah gave a deep sigh. There was no doubt in her mind that she’d be getting a dunking in the historical society booth on Saturday. “I just found out that my mother set me up again.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. And I can understand why you need something to cheer you up. Did you decide which candy bar you want to try first?”

“First?” Hannah gave a little laugh. “I like the way you think, Ruby! I’ll have the deep-fried Milky Way and then, if I can still waddle, I’ll have…” Hannah stopped in midorder as she heard someone call her name. “Oh no! Not again!”

“This one’s real cute,” Ruby said, glancing over Hannah’s shoulder. “Tall and handsome with a great body on him. If he doesn’t work out, I’ll be surprised.”

Hannah turned around and put a smile on her face. “Oh, he works out, all right. He’s got a minigym at his apartment complex, and there’s a full one out at the sheriff’s department.”

“Bet he looks good in his dress uniform.”

“Oh, yes,” Hannah said, and turned to greet Mike. “Hi, Mike. Meet Ruby. She runs the most intriguing booth on the midway.”

“I can see that.” Mike glanced up at the sign that said Sinful Pleasures and gave a little chuckle. “Hi, Ruby. How’s business?”

“Very good, thank you. The deep-fried Milky Ways are the big seller tonight.”

Mike turned to Hannah. “Were you going to order one?”

“Of course she wasn’t,” Ruby covered for her. “Hannah was curious about the batter, that’s all. How about you? Would you like one? It’s on the house.”

Mike shook his head. “I’d love to, but I gained a pound last week and I have to watch it.”

A pound. He’d gained a pound and he was already dieting. Hannah gave a little laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Mike asked, turning to her.

“You gained one pound and you’re already dieting?”

“That’s right. I figure it’s like clearing the highways in the winter. They call out the plows when it starts to snow, because if they wait for it to pile up, it’s a lot harder to get rid of.”

Ruby looked interested. “So you don’t want your weight to pile up?”

“Exactly right. If I gain a pound, I take it off before it can turn into two or three. I like to get a jump on it, you know? That’s one of the reasons I weigh myself every morning.”

“I see,” Hannah said, settling for one of the most noncommittal comments she could make and squelching the urge to haul back and slap the face she found so incredibly attractive. She didn’t start worrying about her weight until she gained at least five pounds. And since weighing in was such an ordeal, she’d been known to read the scale by peeking through her fingers, a technique left over from childhood for watching scary movies.

“So that would be a no on the deep-fried candy bar, then?” Ruby asked, winking at Hannah.

“Right. They do look good, though. And thanks a lot for the offer.” Mike turned back to Hannah. “I need to talk to you.”

“Officially or unofficially?”

“Officially.”

“Then you’re working?”

“I didn’t even have time to get home before they called me in again.”

“That sounds like something big.”

“Big enough.” Mike took her arm and walked her over to one of the unoccupied food tables. “There was a break-in at the Great Northwestern Rodeo and Carnival office.”

Hannah sat down and unleashed the questions that flashed through her mind. “Somebody broke in? When did it happen? Was anybody hurt? Did they steal something, or was it vandalism?”

“If you get me a cup of coffee, I’ll tell you all about it,” Mike said, sliding into a seat across from Hannah. “I’d do it myself, but I’m beat.”

It was rare that Mike asked for help, and Hannah was up in a flash. She got two Styrofoam cups of coffee from the corn dog booth and carried them back to the table. “Here you go, Mike.”

“Thanks. You probably just saved my life.” Mike took a swig and made a face. “This coffee is worse than the stuff at the station.”

“Do you want me to try another booth?”

“No. I just need it to wake up, and it’s strong enough to do the trick. Sit down and I’ll tell you about the break-in.”

“I’m listening,” Hannah said, sitting back down and leaning forward across the table.

“The secretary, Miss Vincent, locked up at six. That’s routine. It’s when the office closes every night.”

“And all the employees know that?”

“Not just the employees. The hours are posted on a sign outside the door. She’s new at the job, but she’s been with the show for over a year. Before she took over as secretary, she worked at the ticket booth.”

“Then she travels with the company?”

“Yes.” Mike gestured toward the group of motor homes and trailers that were parked in the vacant lot behind the grove of trees. “It’s the blue one just to the left of that arc light.”

“I see it,” Hannah told him, spotting it through the branches of the trees.

“Anyway, she got to her trailer at six-thirty, fished around for her keys to unlock the door, and realized that she’d left them in her center desk drawer at the office.”

“So she went back to the office?”

“That’s right. She got back there at a quarter to seven, but she didn’t go in. She noticed that one of the windows on the side of the door was broken, and she did the smart thing. She walked to the gate and had them call for a security guard. That was…” Mike paused to flip open his notebook and refer to the notes he’d taken. “Mr. Roland Weiss. He’s a retired Winnetka County Deputy. Mr. Weiss unlocked the door with his master key and went in to assess the situation, but the burglar was long gone.”

Hannah caught Mike’s use of the term. “You said burglar. What was missing?”

“Money. The cash box was full when Miss Vincent left. It had all the entrance fees for the rodeo contests, the gate receipts from yesterday and this afternoon, and the midway receipts. All told, it was over ten thousand dollars.”

Hannah’s mouth formed a silent O of surprise. “That’s a lot of money,” she said.

“I know, and it’s all in untraceable cash. It would have been even more, but she’d already paid the hourly workers for the day.”

“Where was it kept?”

“In the bottom right-hand drawer of Miss Vincent’s desk. The drawer was locked, but the burglar pried it open.”

“Then he knew it was there?”

“That’s my assumption. Either that or he just got lucky. He didn’t bother trying to open the cash box. That was also locked. He just took it with him.”

Hannah shut her eyes and went over the information Mike had given her. One thing stood out. “You said Miss Vincent had yesterday’s receipts. Why didn’t she take them to the bank?”

“Their bank doesn’t have branches here in Minnesota. They usually deposit the funds with a wire transfer, but the secretary’s new and she didn’t know how to do it. The owner was supposed to walk her through it this afternoon, but something came up and he couldn’t get away.”

“What came up?”

“I don’t know. I’ll find out as soon as I talk to him.” Mike stopped speaking and stared at her. “Your eyes just opened wide and now you’re frowning. Why?”

“Just a thought. If I were you, I’d want to find out what came up to keep the owner from transferring the money. And then I’d want to know if whatever it was could have been done deliberately to delay him.”

“We’re on the same wavelength. I figure maybe somebody wanted to make sure the owner didn’t get that wire transfer done. And if I can find out who that someone is, chances are we’ve got our burglar.”

Hannah was silent for a moment, and then she thought of another question. “You’re sure the burglary took place between six and a quarter to seven?”

“We’re positive. What’s the matter? You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?”

“Widening your eyes and then frowning. What is it this time?”

“You said Miss Vincent left the office at six and got to her trailer at at six-thirty. Is that right?”

“That’s right.”

“And then you said that when she went back to the office to get her keys, she arrived at a quarter to seven.”

“Right again.”

“Well, that’s fifteen minutes faster for Miss Vincent’s return trip. So where did she stop on her way home?”

“Very good!” Mike reached over to pat her hands. “I should have known you’d pick up on that. Miss Vincent stopped right here at the food court for a Paul Bunyan burger. She had them bag it, and she carried it back to her trailer.”

“Okay.”

Mike scratched his head as he stared at Hannah. “Hold on. You just widened your eyes and frowned again. What’s wrong this time?”

“It’s the Paul Bunyan burger!”

“But I checked it out. They remember putting one in a takeout bag for her.”

Hannah shook her head. “Not Miss Vincent’s Paul Bunyan burger. I was talking about my Paul Bunyan burger. Lisa and Herb gave me one for Moishe, and I left it at the Lake Eden Historical Society booth.”

No sooner had the words left Hannah’s mouth than the lights began to flicker on and off. It was the five-minute warning, the signal to let fairgoers know that their evening of fun was drawing to a close and the fair was about to shut down for the night.

“You’re going to go back and get it?” Mike guessed, a pretty safe assumption since Hannah was now standing and she’d picked up her shoulder bag.

“I’d better see if it’s still there. If I don’t, Lisa and Herb will be very disappointed.”

Mike gave what sounded to Hannah like an exhausted sigh. “Do you want me to go with you?” he asked.

Hannah thought about taking him up on his offer. She wasn’t relishing the idea of bucking traffic and heading into the midway when most people were heading out, and Mike could clear a path for her. But then she remembered that he was pulling a double shift. He really did look as if he could use a couple of minutes’ rest.

“I’ll be fine,” she said.

“Okay, but you’d better hurry,” Mike said, yawning widely. “There’s a bench right outside the gate. I’ll wait for you there to make sure they don’t lock you in. Do you want me to take that bakery box with me?”

“No, that’s okay. I’ll be back in a jiffy.” Hannah reached out to scoop up the box with her Key Lime Pie. It was safer to take it with her. Mike was so tired he might cushion his head on the top of the box and fall asleep in the prizewinning pie.

Chapter Eleven

Hannah felt a bit like a salmon swimming upstream as she headed for the Lake Eden Historical Society booth. It was never easy bucking a crowd. Everyone seemed to be streaming toward the exit in a giant wave. She doubted that the bag with Moishe’s Paul Bunyan burger was still where she’d left it, but she had to find out.

“Excuse me,” Hannah said, resisting the urge to elbow three high school boys walking with their girlfriends six abreast. But they didn’t even notice her, so Hannah stepped aside to let them past. This happened more times than she could count as she treaded water in the sea of humanity and darted forward against the surge of boisterous fairgoers whenever she saw an opening.

“Aren’t you leaving?” someone shouted out, and Hannah turned to see Carrie passing her.

“Yes, in a second. Did I leave…” Hannah’s voice trailed off. It was too late. Carrie had passed her in the opposite direction, and she couldn’t possibly hear Hannah’s question.

“’Bye, dear,” Delores hailed her. Hannah’s mother and her two companions, Bernie “No-No” Fulton and Wingo Jones, were being carried along on the tide of people heading for the turnstile at the exit. If there’d been any doubt in Hannah’s mind about the identity of the person who’d contacted the Triple A pitcher and invited him to visit the dunking booth, it was now erased.

“’Bye, Mother,” Hannah shouted back. No sense in asking Delores if her takeout burger bag was still at the booth. Her mother was already several booth-lengths away and there was no way Hannah could make herself heard over the din of the crowd.

Hannah considered her options. It was obvious that the Lake Eden Historical Society booth was closed since she’d seen both her mother and Carrie leaving. Finding the bag with Moishe’s burger was unlikely, but she’d come this far despite the aggravation of opposing human traffic, and she might as well finish her quest.

She made good progress for several more feet, and then things came to a standstill. There was no way she could paddle upstream any longer. Hannah accepted the inevitable and moved laterally, heading for a handy booth where she could wait out the rush.

The Tri-County Dairy booth beckoned, and Hannah flattened herself against the shuttered front. She found an anchor of sorts, a giant milk bottle carved from wood and painted white. She held on as the crowd surged past her, hoping that no one would bump into her and knock her from her spot. She’d wait until the foot traffic had thinned, and then she’d set out for the historical society booth again.

Over the next several minutes, Hannah called hello to at least two dozen people she knew and the lights flickered several more times. At last the crowd thinned out, and Hannah set off for her mother’s booth. It didn’t take long to get there, and she met only one or two people walking rapidly in the direction of the gate.

By the time Hannah arrived, panting slightly, the lights had flickered on and off again. She was too late. The wooden shutters that served as counters were raised and padlocked shut. Hannah walked around to the side where the dunking stool was located and gave a dejected sigh. These counters were also locked into place, tightly shuttering the booth for the night. She should have known the futility of coming all the way back to the booth. If her mother or Carrie had found the bag when they were closing, they would have thrown it away.

“Trashed,” Hannah muttered, wondering how she was going to explain this to Lisa and Herb. But then she realized what she’d said and looked quickly around for the nearest trash container. If no one had emptied the trash yet, Moishe could still be feasting on hamburger tonight.

A fifty-gallon drum painted red and labeled TRASH in big black letters stood only feet from the side of the booth. Hannah set her Key Lime Pie on the ground next to the trashcan, glad that she’d found a bakery box to put it in, and peeked inside the receptacle. There was a white bag right on top, and it certainly looked like the one she’d left on the counter.

Hannah sent up a silent plea for luck and good fortune, and then she opened the bag, hoping that it didn’t contain any gross leftovers. She was almost afraid to look, but she did. And then she grinned from ear to ear. There was Moishe’s Paul Bunyan burger, still neatly wrapped in waxed paper that was stamped with the green-and-white logo of the Burger Shack.

Hannah tucked the bag inside her shoulder bag and picked up the pie box again. She’d accomplished her mission, and now it was time to get back to the gate to meet Mike before he fell asleep on the bench and someone locked her in for the night.

As she walked, Hannah began to feel uneasy. Everyone else had left, and the only noise was the sound of her own footfalls. The thump of her rubber soles hitting the dirt was deafening in the surrounding silence, and she resisted the urge to tiptoe. There was something very unnerving about being alone on the midway at night.

She was just passing the Family Farms booth when everything went black. Hannah came to a standstill and reached out to steady herself against the mechanical bull. Rather than just a saddle and a mechanism that bucked and swiveled, this bull looked like a real Brahma bull and cost five dollars to ride.

For a moment Hannah just stood there gripping the bull’s ear, feeling ever more apprehensive and wondering how she was ever going to find her way to the gate in the darkness. There were occasional flashes of heat lightning way off in the distance, but that provided no real illumination. She could hear a low rumbling, barely audible. Thunder? Whatever it was, it added to Hannah’s growing apprehension.

She told herself not to panic. She’d just wait for her eyes to adjust and pick her way to Mike, lifting her feet high so she wouldn’t trip over any ropes or cables. She was about to set out when there was a hollow clunk, as if someone had thrown the lever on a transformer, and a long string of dim lights went on overhead.

If Hannah hadn’t been so nervous, she might have chided herself for borrowing trouble. Of course they had nightlights on the midway. It was a safety precaution, and it probably served to discourage kids from climbing the fence and sneaking in after hours.

Although the lighting was by no means bright, she could make out the rectangles of the shuttered booths and the looming, almost menacing shapes of the carnival rides. Hannah shivered even though the night was hot, and her skin felt slick with moisture. It wasn’t good being here alone. It wasn’t good at all.

As she made her halting way forward, Hannah kept to the center of the path, her eyes scanning the shadows for movement. Every bad horror movie she’d ever seen flashed through her mind, and she thought about what she might use for a weapon if someone, or something, emerged from the darkness. There was her shoulder bag. It was heavy enough to knock someone off balance, especially if she swung it in an arc. The Key Lime Pie she was carrying could be used to render someone temporarily blind. It was a terrible waste of a first-place-winning dessert, but if push came to shove, she wouldn’t hesitate to use it. If she took it out of the box and shoved the sticky meringue directly in an assailant’s face, it would take him a minute or so to wipe it from his eyes. By that time, she’d be well on her way to the gate to alert Mike.

Hannah walked on, but her mind was in turmoil. The old adage against borrowing trouble was warring with the advice to be prepared. The Boy Scout motto won, hands down. She stopped at the next trash can she passed and removed the pie, tossing the bakery box on top of the refuse the evening’s fairgoers had left behind them.

Now she had a purse and a pie to use in her defense. Hannah gave a little sigh. Somehow that didn’t seem like much. For the very first time in her life, she wished that she were wearing a pair of Andrea’s stiletto-heeled shoes. Then she could slip one off and do real damage to anyone or anything that threatened her. Of course that was silly. If she’d been wearing a pair of her sister’s stilettos, she wouldn’t be in this position in the first place. There was no way she could walk in heels that high, much less fit into shoes that were four sizes too small for her.

She’d just passed the Tri-County Volunteer Fire Department’s Red Hot Ringtoss booth when she heard a noise that couldn’t be explained by the nonexistent wind or any small furry creature that made the fairgrounds its home. It was the sound of something heavy striking something composed of flesh and bone. Hannah wasn’t sure how she knew that, but she did. And her blood ran cold.

“Is someone there?” she called out before she’d had time to consider the wisdom of speaking. And then she did, and she wished she could call back her words. Now the person who’d struck the blow she’d heard knew that he wasn’t alone on the midway. And he also knew approximately how far away and in which direction she was.

Open mouth, insert foot, Hannah thought, but she didn’t stand still to think about it. She knew she had to get away fast, and that’s exactly what she proceeded to do. But as she scurried away, her brain wasn’t idle. She was almost certain the sound she’d heard had come from a booth across the path and around the corner, no more than three booths from where she’d been standing. If she remembered the layout of the midway correctly, that was where the shooting gallery was located.

But it hadn’t been a gunshot. Hannah was sure of that. She tried to forget about the heavy object striking flesh and bone and considered what other things might produce a sound like it. It could have been someone kicking a hollow rubber ball with considerable force. Or someone striking a ripe melon with a baseball bat. Or a sledge hammer hitting…Hannah gave a little shiver. She didn’t want to think about this now. Whatever it was, it was ominous. Right now she had to get as far away from the shooting gallery as possible!

Heart pounding hard and her senses on full alert, Hannah scuttled down the line of booths, keeping to the shadows and doing her best to move quickly, carefully, and silently. One misstep and he’d know where she was. She’d just reached the end of the row of booths when she heard a second thunk. Whoever it was hadn’t moved, and that meant he hadn’t heard her. Hannah took advantage of the moment to dart around the corner, putting even more distance between them.

She was at the side of the Strong Man booth, where fairgoers could win a Strong Man badge if they pounded a mallet onto a metal bed with enough force to make a ball scoot all the way up the vertical shaft to ring the bell at the top. Hannah took refuge behind several bales of hay placed there as a makeshift barrier to keep observers from getting too close to the prospective Strong Man and the mallet.

All was silent, perfectly silent. Hannah resisted the urge to slap at a mosquito that landed on her cheek and remained motionless. She crouched there for long minutes that seemed like hours, wondering if whatever or whoever she’d heard could hear her breathing or the rapid beating of her heart.

Was it safe to move yet? Hannah wasn’t sure, so she didn’t. Instead she swiveled her head slowly, examining her surroundings and committing every shape and shadow to memory. Mike had taught her that trick not long after they’d first met. He said cops on a stakeout got tired after a while and thought they saw things that weren’t there. He examined everything at the start so that his mind would sound an internal alarm if anything in his visual pattern changed.

As Hannah huddled there, trying to make as small a configuration as possible, her mind spun through the possibilities. Someone was here on the deserted midway with her. The noise she’d heard proved that. She didn’t think it was another late fairgoer rushing toward the exit and tripping over a rope or a stake. If that had happened, she would have heard groaning or cries for help. She supposed it could have been a carnival worker locking up a little late or coming back to secure something or other he’d forgotten. But if it had been a carnival worker, he would have answered her when she called out. This person was up to no good. His silence proved that.

Hannah drew her breath in sharply. The Strong Man mallet was gone. When she’d walked past the booth earlier in the day, it had been on a chain next to the vertical shaft. The chain was still there. She could see it on the ground, glistening slightly in the dim glow from the string of lights. Had they locked the mallet inside the booth for the night? Or had someone taken it, used it to hit someone else, and begun the process of bringing it back so that no one would know…

And he was here! And it was too late to run! Hannah did what any strong, courageous, modern Minnesota-born woman might have done in the same circumstance. She shut her eyes and attempted to become one with the hay.

Of course it didn’t work. There was no way she was going to huddle here waiting for him to find her and whack her with the mallet, too. Not only that, if she did escape his notice, she wanted to be able to give the authorities a good description.

Hannah opened her eyes, inched toward the side of the hay bale, and risked a peek. But the light was too dim. All she saw was a shadowy figure bending over the chain to reattach the mallet. She pulled her head back and listened for the sound of footfalls coming her way. She was almost positive that he hadn’t spotted her, not unless he was a sideshow attraction and he had eyes in the back of his head. Still, it was better to be safe than sorry, and she readied the pie for action.

Long moments passed as she listened intently, alert for the slightest sound. She imagined that her ears swiveled independently like little satellite dishes, the way Moishe’s ears did when he heard a mouse in the walls. The hair at the base of her neck prickled in apprehension, and she made her breathing shallow and almost inaudible. Except for the far-off sound of a dog barking in a neighboring farmyard, the muted swoosh of cars on the highway, and the faint rumble of thunder in the distance, all was deathly quiet.

And then she heard it. He was moving again. She held the Key Lime Pie in a death grip, ready to hurl it at the slightest provocation, but the sound grew fainter with each passing heartbeat. He was moving away from her, running away from her hiding place. He hadn’t seen her! She was safe!

But where had he gone? The moment Hannah thought of it, she stood up and moved to the front of the booth. Her eyes scanned the midway for movement and found none. Had she been too slow? But then she spotted him disappearing around the side of the carousel.

It was safe for her to go now, and Hannah knew what she should do. She should head straight for the gate where Mike was waiting for her. She should tell him what had happened, and he could take over from here on out. He’d hammered that point home often enough. He was the detective, and she was not. The detective was an expert with credentials, and the nondetective should defer to the detective. If she thought something was wrong, she should tell Mike and he would take care of it. Her caution should win out over her curiosity.

Hannah leaned against the booth to let her breathing return to normal and her heartbeats slow to a reasonable rate. The moment she told Mike, he’d turn on the bright lights and investigate. But what if the sounds she’d heard had been perfectly innocent? What if everything was normal and nothing at all was wrong? She’d look like a first-class fool in front of a man she admired and could possibly even love.

There was only one thing to do. Perhaps it was the wrong thing, but that had never stopped her before. Hannah straightened up, stretched to relieve her cramped muscles, and headed off toward the shooting gallery. She’d check it out first, before she raised the alarm. And if she was right and something was wrong, she’d head for the gate and tell Mike immediately.

The sounds seemed magnified as Hannah headed down the row of booths. A slight breeze picked up, and she almost jumped out of her skin as the plastic flags fluttered over the face painting booth. They sounded as loud as the flock of crows that used to land in her grandfather’s cornfield, the ones her Grandma Ingrid refused to chase off because she was partial to crows. Hannah’s every instinct told her she was heading into trouble and she was likely to discover something she didn’t want to find. She knew she should turn tail and run for Mike, but instead she forged ahead, each footstep deliberate and even, drawing her inevitably closer to the shooting gallery. She was like Moishe, who still occasionally pushed the cold water lever in the shower, even though he’d gotten drenched several times in the past.

When she arrived at the shooting gallery, Hannah took a deep breath. She was convinced it would be either or. Either she’d find something horrible, or she’d find nothing at all. In the dim light from the single string of lights high overhead, the teddy bear prizes lined up in rows inside the glass front of the booth seemed to be staring at a point just around the corner. Hannah rounded the corner, stopped short, and felt herself assume the same glassy-eyed stare. Someone was sprawled out on the dirt. It was a woman. Hannah could tell because she was wearing a dress. And she was perfectly motionless.

Hannah’s mind spun. This was the time to go after Mike, but of course she couldn’t. What if this poor woman was injured and in need of immediate help? She knew CPR. She could even fashion a tourniquet if she absolutely had to.

Her need to help another human being in trouble drew her forward. The woman was facedown, and Hannah was about to reach for her wrist to feel for a pulse when she saw the back of her head. This caused her to step back without taking her pulse or touching her. No aid she could give would make a particle of difference. This woman was quite dead, and Hannah hoped that it had been quick. Blunt force trauma didn’t make for a kind demise.

The woman’s skirt was pulled up a bit in back, a result of the way she’d fallen, and Hannah reached out to tug it down. It wouldn’t make any difference to her now, but there should be dignity in death. And once she’d fixed the woman’s skirt and straightened up again, Hannah had an awful realization.

“No!” Hannah gulped. She took one halting step closer and the pie dropped from her nerveless fingers. She’d seen and admired this dress before, no more than an hour ago!

Hannah stared down at the bits of meringue and Key Lime Pie filling that were scattered on the ground. She couldn’t just stand here. She had to get moving and go after Mike. He needed to know about this.

“Hannah?”

Mike’s voice rang out loud and clear, as if she had summoned him. It was a coincidence, a wonderful coincidence. And if she could only find her voice, she could answer him.

“Where are you, Hannah?”

“Here,” Hannah answered, finding her voice at last. Of course her answer wouldn’t do him much good. Here could mean anywhere. Her one-word answer wasn’t descriptive enough.

“Where’s here?” Mike asked, and his voice sounded closer.

Hannah had the insane urge to tell him he was getting warmer. It was almost as if they were playing her favorite childhood game, the one where someone leaves the room, the group hides something, the person comes back in, and the group directs them to the hidden object by telling them whether they’re warmer or colder.

But this is no game, Hannah’s mind told her. It’s all too real, and you have to answer him. She took a deep breath and did what her mind had suggested. “I’m around the side of the shooting gallery,” she said.

“You sound weird. What’s the matter?”

Hannah opened her mouth to answer, but she was too busy wondering how he could run and ask questions at the same time. He didn’t even sound winded! She certainly couldn’t do it, but then she was at least twenty pounds overweight, and she’d been about to add to that total by ordering a deep-fried, cookie-battered Milky Way until he’d caught her standing in front of the booth.

“Hannah? I asked you what was the matter?”

Hannah sighed. He’d be here any second and then he could see for himself. But he’d asked and his question deserved an answer. “Dead,” she said.

“Someone’s dead?” Mike asked, rounding the corner with the speed of an Olympic hopeful. “Who?”

“Willa Sunquist.” Hannah identified the victim for him before her legs gave way and she sank down to the ground to stare back at the glass-eyed teddy bears.

Chapter Twelve

The phrase through a glass darkly floated in her mind. Nothing seemed quite real, not even the staring teddy bears or Willa’s body lying crumpled only a few feet away. Hannah had the bizarre feeling that she was acting in a movie with no director, and she didn’t know what she was supposed to do next.

“Hannah?” Mike’s face loomed large, like a pale moon that floated over her. He must be bending down to talk to her. And that brought up a new thought. Why was she sitting on the ground?

“Let me help you up. Can you stand?”

Hannah considered that for long moments. Could she stand? She really wasn’t sure. She wouldn’t know until she tried, so she held out her hands and let Mike pull her to her feet.

“Yes,” she answered, when she was actually standing.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, I can stand. But I don’t know how long.”

“You’re in shock,” Mike said, tipping up her chin and shining his flashlight into her eyes.

“Oh. That explains the movie then.”

Mike raised his eyebrows, but he didn’t say anything. He just half-carried her over to one of the hay bales and pushed her into a sitting position. Then he stacked up two bales on the other side of her and three behind her so that she couldn’t topple off his prickly makeshift chair.

“Nice,” Hannah said, wondering how much longer she could have stayed on her feet. Her legs were trembling, and she felt a little dizzy. “It’s better than the one-chair-fits-all in the secretary’s office.”

Mike made a little whooshing sound between his teeth and shook his head. “Just stay right there while I make some calls.”

Hannah felt a wave of panic that started in her trembling legs and rose all the way up to her throat. She swallowed hard with a little gulp and tried to slow her rapid heartbeat. “You’re not going to leave me, are you?”

“Never. I’ve got my cell phone. Just try to relax and let me get the crime scene team over here.”

Hannah nodded. Or at least she thought she nodded. She didn’t seem to be able to completely control her own body. Her legs were still trembling even though she willed them to be still, and she felt terribly cold, so cold that her teeth were chattering. This was probably why each squad car was equipped with a blanket in the trunk. Hannah wished Mike would take his out and cover Willa. Of course he couldn’t do that, not until the crime scene team was through. And his squad car wasn’t here anyway. It was out in the parking lot.

“Here,” Mike said, shrugging out of his sheriff’s windbreaker and draping it over her shoulders.

“Thanks,” Hannah said gratefully. The jacket was very comforting. It was lined with flannel and it was warm. There was also the fact that it belonged to Mike, and that made her feel warm all over. She pulled it closer around her and glanced down. The Winnetka County Sheriff’s Department had adopted the Minnesota state colors, maroon and gold. Mike’s windbreaker was no exception. It was maroon, only one shade darker than Reverend Knudson’s pickled beets. Hannah imagined how Mike’s jacket would look teamed with her red hair, and she started shivering again. “Don’t look at me. Maroon’s not my best color.”

Mike gave a startled bark of laughter, and then he turned back to the phone again. Hannah half-listened as he contacted Doc Knight, the county coroner, and Andrea’s husband, Bill, the Winnetka County Sheriff. She was just thinking about Delores and how upset she’d be that her eldest daughter had found another murder victim, when what Mike was saying into the receiver registered in her mind.

“Okay, Norman. Thanks a lot. I’ll tell them to let you in.”

Norman? In? Hannah wondered what all that was about. “Did you call Norman in to take crime scene photos?” she asked.

“No, I called him in to take you home. I don’t want you driving in your condition.”

“What condition?” Hannah was genuinely puzzled. “I haven’t had anything to drink.”

“I know that, but you’re still in shock and I don’t want to take the chance you’ll get into an accident on the way home.”

“But I’m perfectly capable of driving. And since I’ve got a valid license and I’m not under the influence of any substance that would negatively affect my driving ability, you can’t stop me…can you?”

“Oh, yes.”

“But how?”

“It’s simple,” Mike said, reaching into his pocket and holding up a key ring. “I’ve got the keys to your truck.”

Hannah’s mouth dropped open. “You took my keys?”

“Not exactly. I asked you to hand over your purse so I could have your keys, and you did. Don’t you remember?”

“No,” Hannah said, admitting defeat. Not only had she handed over her purse without question, she hadn’t even noticed when he went through it and took out her keys. It was clear that her ladder wasn’t reaching all the way to the top, she wasn’t playing with a full deck, and she was several cookies short of a baker’s dozen. Mike was right, and she was wrong. She was too distracted to drive safely.

“So you’re okay with Norman driving you home?”

Hannah was about to nod when she thought of a rejoinder. “I am if you are.”

Mike laughed. “You’re at least halfway back,” he said, reaching out to give her a little hug. “For a couple of minutes there, I was worried. It takes some people hours to recover from the shock of finding a victim of a violent crime.”

Thanks for reminding me, Hannah said under her breath.

“What was that?”

Hannah thought fast and then she said, “It’s not like it hasn’t happened to me before. Do you want to take my statement now?”

“Later. I’ll be here for an hour or so, and then I’ll drive out to your condo. I’ll bring your truck. I can catch a ride back to the station with Norman.”

Hannah might have been in shock, but she caught the implication of Mike’s words. He didn’t want Norman to stay at her condo any longer than he did. One way to ensure that was to arrange it so that both of them left in the same car at the same time.

“Why are you smiling?” Mike asked her.

Hannah considered her words carefully. Everyone, including her mother, always accused her of having no tact. “Oh, I’m just glad you’re taking care of everything and all I have to do is ride home,” she said, wondering if that qualified her to join the ranks of the tactful.

“He’s got it in his mouth,” Norman commented, watching Moishe as he passed by the back of the couch in Hannah’s living room. “It’s just the meat. He left the bun in the kitchen. He’s going down the hall and…” Norman craned his neck to see. “I think he’s carrying it into your bedroom.”

Normally Hannah would have been up and running, chasing after her feline so that he couldn’t hide the burger under her bed. Tonight it was a different story, and she stayed put. Moishe was showing some interest in food for the first time in three days, and she wasn’t about to do anything that might distract him.

“Do you want me to stop him? Or watch to make sure he doesn’t drop it somewhere?” Michelle asked.

“Let him go. Maybe he’ll eat it if we don’t disturb him. It wouldn’t hurt to check under your pillow before you go to bed, though.”

“Would he put it there?” Norman asked.

Hannah shrugged. “I’ve found a couple of mouse parts under my pillow.”

“Mouse parts?” Norman repeated, chuckling. “I don’t think I want to know what that means.”

They were quiet for a moment. Good smells were coming from the oven. Hannah had decided to bake right after Norman had brought her home. It always relaxed her and made her think more clearly. She’d no sooner slipped the pan in the oven than Michelle had come in from her date with Lonnie. They’d taken seats in the living room and Hannah had told her the gruesome news.

“I still can’t believe she’s dead.” Michelle shivered slightly. “Who’d want to kill Miss Sunquist?”

“That’s what I’ve been asking myself ever since I found her. How about the girls in the beauty pageant?”

“But everybody adored Miss Sunquist. She was so helpful and nice. I don’t think there was a single contestant who didn’t like her.”

Hannah’s senses went on red alert as an interesting array of expressions crossed her youngest sister’s face. At first Michelle was perfectly sincere, believing utterly what she’d just said. But then her eyes narrowed slightly, and a frown line appeared between her eyebrows. Her next expression was disbelief as she considered the thought she’d just had. And then there was denial, with just a hint of suspicion that lingered long after the denial had gone.

“What just crossed your mind?” Hannah asked, leaning forward.

“It’s probably nothing. And I wouldn’t want to get anyone in trouble. It’s impossible, anyway. She really wasn’t that upset.”

“Who wasn’t that upset?” Norman asked her.

“One of the other contestants. But I really don’t think she’d actually do…” Michelle stopped speaking and looked terribly worried.

“She’d actually do what?” Hannah jumped in. “This is a murder investigation, Michelle. Somebody killed Willa in cold blood. She didn’t pick up that mallet and bash in her own head.”

Michelle looked sick. “I know that. But…”

“You liked Miss Sunquist, didn’t you?” Norman interrupted what was clearly going to be more hedging from Michelle.

“Of course I did!”

Hannah seized the opportunity Norman had presented and took over the argument. “Then you owe it to Willa to tell us anything you think might be relevant to her death. That’s anything, Michelle. Even if it’s just a suspicion.”

Michelle thought about that for a moment. “You’re right. I don’t owe Tasha anything.”

“The blonde who wore the emerald green evening gown?” Hannah asked, remembering Michelle’s fellow contestant from the first night of competition.

“That’s right. She almost got me in trouble by asking me to cover for her. But I couldn’t lie to Miss Sunquist, and I told Tasha that.”

The oven timer sounded, and Hannah stood up. “Hold that thought. I’m going to get our popovers, and I want you to tell me everything when I get back.”

It only took Hannah a moment or two to tip the popovers out of the muffin tins and into a wicker basket that she’d lined with a napkin. She picked up the tray she’d already assembled with fancy butters and jams. She set the basket in the center of the tray and carried everything out to the coffee table in front of the living room couch.

“Those smell really good!” Norman said, smiling at Hannah.

“They are good. Andrea got the recipe from Bill’s cousin, Bernadette.”

“Andrea makes these?” Michelle looked utterly astounded as she stared down at the golden popovers.

“Of course not.” Hannah gave a little laugh. All three of them knew that the only cooking Andrea ever did was to microwave frozen dinners. “Andrea gave the recipe to me, and I make them for her whenever she wants them. We have to let them cool for a minute or two, and then we can dig in. And after that, Michelle can tell us everything she knows about Tasha.”

BERNADETTE’S POPOVERS

Preheat oven to 450 degrees F., rack in the middle position.

Spray a 12-cup muffin pan with Pam or other nonstick cooking spray. You can also grease them with clarified butter, or lard if you prefer.

Hannah’s 1st Note: Before I got this recipe, my popovers always looked as if they’d been run over by Earl Flensburg’s tow truck. Now they’re high, light, golden brown, and gorgeous.

4 eggs[***]

2 cups milk

2 cups flour (not sifted)

1 teaspoon salt

Hannah’s 2nd Note: You should mix this recipe by hand with a whisk. If you use an electric mixer, it will add too much air to the eggs.

Whisk the eggs until they’re a light, uniform color, but not yet fluffy. It should take no more than a minute or so.

Add the milk and whisk it in until it’s incorporated.

Measure out the flour and dump it in the bowl all at once. Dump in the salt on top of it. Then stir for a moment or two with a wooden spoon until all the flour has been moistened and incorporated. You will still have lumps (like brownie batter) but that’s fine. In this recipe, you actually want lumps!

Transfer the batter to a container with a spout (I used a measuring cup). Pour the batter into the muffin cups, filling them almost to the top.

Bake at 450 degrees F. for exactly 30 minutes. (Don’t peek while they’re baking or they’ll fall!)

When 30 minutes have passed, remove the pan to a cold burner or a wire rack and pierce the top of each popover with a sharp knife to release the steam.

Let the popovers stand in the pan for a minute or two, and then tip them out into a napkin-lined basket.

Serve with sweet butter, salted butter, fruit butters, jams, jellies, or cream cheese.

Yield: 12 large popovers that everyone will love.

Hannah’s 3rd Note: These popovers are also good at room temperature. I haven’t done this yet, but I’m going to try filling them with egg salad, tuna salad, or salmon salad. If it works, it’ll be a great dish for a brunch.

Chapter Thirteen

“Willa didn’t say anything about disqualifying anyone,” Hannah said, breaking open a popover and buttering one side with cashew butter and the other with honey butter.

“That’s because she called us all together before the competition started tonight, and we agreed we wouldn’t tell anyone the details. All we were supposed to say was that Tasha was no longer in the competition.” Michelle looked a bit guilty. “I guess I’m breaking my promise.”

“You made that promise when Willa was still alive. Circumstances have changed,” Norman pointed out.

Hannah took a bite of her popover, gave a little sigh of contentment, and took a sip of coffee. “Okay. Tell us everything you know, Michelle.”

“Tasha was thirty minutes late for the miniature garden show at the Ag-Hort Building on the first afternoon. She told Miss Sunquist that her car broke down, but she told me that she was talking to her boyfriend in the parking lot and she lost track of time.”

Hannah thought back to what Willa had told them about the grounds for disqualification. “Just being late once wouldn’t be enough to do it, would it?”

“No. There were other things, too. We weren’t supposed to use bad language while we were wearing our badges. Miss Sunquist explained why. But Tasha swore a couple of times backstage at the evening gown competition, and I know she got marked off for it.”

“That’s all?” Norman asked.

“I haven’t gotten to the final thing yet,” Michelle said, giving a little sigh. “I feel like a snitch, but that’s not important, is it?”

“Not really.” Hannah was glad her sister had her priorities straight. “Your feelings aren’t the issue here. Willa’s death is.”

“Tasha was a no-show at the quilting demonstration this afternoon. She would have gotten another chance if she’d just been late, but she missed the whole event and she didn’t call in to explain or anything. Miss Sunquist was really worried about her.”

“When did she show up?” Hannah asked the pertinent question.

“At six. Her boyfriend dropped her off for the swimsuit competition. And when Miss Sunquist asked Tasha why she wasn’t at the quilting demonstration, she said she just didn’t feel like sitting there for an hour and watching someone sew. Tasha didn’t give Miss Sunquist a choice. She had to disqualify her.”

“And Tasha was upset about being disqualified?” Norman guessed.

“Not really. I think she didn’t show up on purpose so she’d get kicked out. I helped her pack up her things, and she told me she didn’t want to be in the competition anyway.”

“Do you think that was just sour grapes?” Norman asked.

“And you don’t think that was bravado on her part?” Hannah added.

“No to both of you. She said she’d rather spend the time with her boyfriend, and I believe her. She never acted thrilled with the contest, not even when she took second in the evening gown competition.”

“Then why did she enter in the first place?” Hannah wanted to know.

“She didn’t. She told me her father filled out the entry form and sent it in. Tasha’s only seventeen, so a parent can do that.”

“I hear that happens a lot,” Norman commented, knowing full well that Delores had signed the entry form for Michelle.

“I guess it does.” Michelle gave a little laugh. “But I really don’t mind being in the contest. It’s kind of fun, in a way. And Lonnie wants me to be in the contest. He’s the one who suggested it to Mother. Tasha’s boyfriend thinks it’s a waste of time.”

“Even with that cash prize?”

“Tasha said he doesn’t care about that. He wouldn’t get any of the money anyway. Neither would she. Since she’s underage, it would go to her father.”

Hannah exchanged glances with Norman. Her glance meant, Sounds like a motive for murder to me. And his glance replied, Sure does.

“What’s Tasha’s last name?” Hannah asked.

Michelle was silent for a long moment, and then she gave a little shrug. “I don’t think I ever heard it. Miss Sunquist called us by our first names, and that’s all we had on our ID badges. Hers said Princess Tasha. I can probably find out for you, though. One of the other girls said she went to school with Tasha.”

“Great. Ask around tomorrow and let me know right away.”

“Does this mean you’re not going to tell Mike about Tasha?”

Hannah thought about that for a split second, and then she shook her head. “All we have is her first name. There’s no sense bothering Mike until we have more information to give him.”

“And besides, you want to check out Tasha and her father by yourself,” Michelle said.

“And present it to him as a fait accompli,” Norman added.

“So you can prove you’re a better detective than he is.” Michelle gave her oldest sister a knowing smile.

Hannah laughed. They knew her too well to swallow the altruistic spin she’d attempted to put on it, and she’d better admit that it was true. “You’re right. Now mum’s the word. Mike ought to be here any minute. You both need to remember that for tonight, Tasha and her father belong to me.”

“Here you go, Mike.” Hannah carried out a piping hot basket of popovers and a refreshed tray of jams and fancy butters. “Just give them two minutes or so to cool and help yourself.”

“You don’t know what this means to me,” Mike said, looking at her with what some people might call adoration. “I didn’t have lunch, and once they called me in, I didn’t have time for dinner.”

“You could have had a deep-fried candy bar,” Hannah couldn’t resist saying.

“I know. I probably should have. When I’m working this hard I burn a lot of calories. But I just couldn’t do that to my body.”

“Right,” Hannah said, watching him break open a popover and lather on both honey butter and peach jam.

“You ought to make these down at The Cookie Jar,” Mike said, after his first bite. “They’re great!”

Hannah just smiled. The complexity of serving piping hot popovers at The Cookie Jar for anyone who ordered them was ridiculous. But she was pleased that Mike liked them. It was a compliment.

“Hey, Norman,” Mike hailed his rival for Hannah’s affections. “Why aren’t you having any popovers?”

“Because this is the second batch. And Michelle and I ate the first batch almost single-handedly. I might have one, though.”

“Help yourself. I can’t eat them all.” Mike turned to Hannah again. “I thought you’d like to know that Doc Knight said death was almost instantaneous. The second blow was just window dressing.”

Some window dressing! Hannah thought. She could have done just fine without hearing that. “So why did he do it?”

“To make sure she was dead?” Norman guessed.

“Bingo!” Mike pointed his finger at Norman and nodded. “The perp needed the comfort of overkill.”

Hannah made a face that neither of the two men saw. Their conversation was gruesome. And they were still eating. How could they do that?

“Popover?” Mike held out the basket to her.

“No thanks.” Hannah swallowed hard. It was a human being they were talking about here, someone she’d known and liked.

“Anything else you learned from Doc Knight?” Norman asked, reaching for the orange butter.

“Like what?” Mike broke open another popover and glopped on the raspberry jam. Then he passed the honey butter to Norman. “Try some of this, too. The butters are good together.”

“Thanks, don’t mind if I do. How about defensive wounds. Did she see he was trying to kill her and try to stop him?”

“Doc didn’t think so,” Mike said, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “She broke her right wrist, but he thinks it was the way she fell and not an attempt to defend herself.” He turned to Hannah. “The victim was right-handed, wasn’t she?”

“Yes,” Hannah forced out her answer. How could he call Willa a victim so callously? They were discussing a real live person, at least she’d been alive earlier this evening, and there was something very wrong about going into details while they stuffed their faces.

“Doc thinks it was a man,” Mike said. “Unless you know any woman who can lift a twenty-five pound mallet, bring it up over her shoulders, and smash open the head of a victim who was over five and a half feet tall, it had to be a man.”

Hannah swallowed hard again. No way she could ask another question. Didn’t Mike realize that she’d worked with Willa, laughed with Willa, and considered herself Willa’s friend?

“Was there any maxillary damage?” Norman asked, looking much too interested to suit Hannah.

“Doc said it was extensive.” Mike took another popover, broke it open, and infused it with strawberry jam. “A couple of her teeth were smashed.”

“Which ones?”

“I don’t know. I think Doc said it was thirteen and fourteen.” He turned to Hannah. “Gee, these are good, Hannah.”

Norman mulled it over. “It takes a heavy blow to smash a healthy bicuspid and a molar.”

“Doc Knight thought her teeth were in pretty good condition, but he wants to consult with you.”

“He does?” Norman looked very pleased. “I could drive out to the hospital now if he wants me to examine the teeth. And if the left side is intact, we could experiment with thirteen and fourteen’s counterparts, three and four, to see how much force…”

“Out!” Hannah said, standing up and pointing toward the door. She’d had it with talk of victims, and crushed skulls, and broken wrists, and smashed teeth. This was a travesty! It was right that Mike did his job. That was a given. And it was right that Norman helped him if he could. But this wasn’t how she wanted to mourn Willa!

“What?” Mike looked at her, utterly astounded. “You’re asking us to leave now?”

“Yes! You’re ghouls, both of you! You’re talking about Willa as if she’s just a…a body! She was more than that. She was pretty, and nice, and…and she was my friend!”

“I’m sorry, Hannah.” Norman was the first to speak. “I didn’t realize we were being so callous. I really do apologize.”

Norman reached out to put his arm around her, but Hannah moved out of reach. No way she was going to make up with either of them right now. “Leave,” she said, still pointing to the door.

“Okay. ’Nuff said.” Mike stood up and looked down at the basket of popovers. “Is it okay if I take the rest of these?”

“Out!” Hannah shouted and clamped her mouth shut. The phrases that were running through her mind right now were far from complimentary.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” Norman said, opening the door and stepping out. “I’m really sorry I was so insensitive.”

Mike followed right behind Norman. When he cleared the doorway, he turned around to say, “Yeah. Sorry about that, Hannah.”

When the door had closed behind them, Hannah shut her eyes for a moment and let the silence soothe her. Then she walked over to throw the deadbolt and double lock the door.

Something warm and furry rubbed against her ankles, and Hannah looked down to see Moishe. He must have sensed that she was upset and left Michelle’s warm bed and the allure of his favorite butterfly coverlet to come out and comfort her.

Hannah scooped him up and buried her nose in the soft fur on the back of his neck. “Thanks, Moishe. You’re a perfect roommate. You always come around when I need you, and you never say anything to make me mad.”

“Rowwwwwr,” Moishe gave a soft little yowl of acknowledgment. And then he turned his head and licked her nose. Hannah was so surprised, she came dangerously close to dropping him. She knew he loved her, but he wasn’t this affectionate very often.

“Time for some shut-eye,” she said, carrying him off to her bedroom and placing him on the special goose-down pillow she’d bought especially for him. “Remind me of this in the morning in case I forget, but I think I just found out why I shouldn’t marry either one of them.”

FANCY BUTTERS FOR POPOVERS

Hannah’s 1st Note: Make these fancy butters the day before you plan to serve them. Take them out of the refrigerator an hour before serving.

Cashew Butter:

½ cup softened butter (1 stick, ¼ pound)

2 Tablespoons (1/8 cup) finely chopped cashews (measure AFTER chopping)

Soften the butter and place it in a small mixing bowl.

Chop the cashews (salted or unsalted—it doesn’t really matter) in a food processor with the steel blade until they’re as close to a paste as you can get them. (If you don’t have a food processor, you can grind them in a food mill, chop them by hand and then crush them with a mortar and pestle, or grind them in a blender.)

Measure 2 Tablespoons of crushed or finely chopped cashews. Mix the cashews with the butter, scrape the mixture into a small serving bowl, cover with plastic wrap, and refrigerate. When you uncover the bowl, place one perfect cashew on top of the cashew butter so everyone will know what it is.

Honey Butter:

½ cup softened butter (1 stick, ¼ pound)

1 Tablespoon honey

Soften the butter and place it in a small mixing bowl.

Add the honey and stir until well blended. Scrape the mixture into a small serving bowl, cover with plastic wrap, and refrigerate.

Hannah’s 2nd Note: I usually make a double batch of honey butter because everyone loves it so much.

Almond Butter:

½ cup softened butter (1 stick, ¼ pound)

1 Tablespoon finely chopped or crushed blanched almonds (measure AFTER chopping or crushing)

½ teaspoon almond extract

Chop the blanched almonds in a food processor with the steel blade until they’re as close to a paste as you can make them. (If you don’t have a food processor, you can grind them in a food mill, chop them by hand and then crush them with a mortar and pestle, or grind them in a blender.)

Measure 1 Tablespoon of crushed or finely chopped almonds. Mix the almonds with the butter.

Add the almond extract and mix well.

Scrape the mixture into a small serving bowl, cover with plastic wrap, and refrigerate. When you uncover the bowl, place one perfect almond on top of the almond butter so everyone will know what it is.

Date Butter:

½ cup softened butter (1 stick, ¼ pound)

8 pitted dates, finely chopped

1 teaspoon flour

Cut the dates into three pieces with a sharp knife and place them in the bowl of a food processor. Sprinkle them with flour and chop them with the steel blade until they’re as finely chopped as you can make them. (You can add a little more flour if they stick together too much.) If you don’t have a food processor, you can try this with a blender, or chop them with a sharp knife by hand.

Mix the chopped dates with the butter, scrape the mixture into a small serving bowl, cover with plastic wrap, and refrigerate. When you uncover the bowl, place one pitted date on top of the date butter so everyone will know what it is.

Orange Butter:

½ cup softened butter (1 stick, ¼ pound)

1 Tablespoon frozen orange juice concentrate

1 teaspoon orange zest[***] (optional)

Measure out one Tablespoon of frozen orange juice concentrate and let it come up to room temperature.

Mix the orange juice concentrate with the softened butter. Add the orange zest if you decided to use it. (It adds a lot!)

Scrape the mixture into a small serving bowl, cover with plastic wrap, and refrigerate.

Lemon Butter:

½ cup softened butter (1 stick, ¼ pound)

1 Tablespoon frozen lemonade concentrate

1 teaspoon lemon zest[***] (optional)

Measure out one Tablespoon of frozen lemonade concentrate and let it come up to room temperature.

Mix the lemonade concentrate with the softened butter. Add the lemon zest if you decided to use it. (It adds a lot!)

Scrape the mixture into a small serving bowl, cover with plastic wrap, and refrigerate.

Chapter Fourteen

When Hannah’s alarm clock went off the next morning at five-thirty, she was still mad at Mike. Norman wasn’t fully back into her good graces yet, either, but he had apologized several times and she was sure that he was genuinely sorry. Mike didn’t have a clue why she’d gotten angry with him. His apology had been perfunctory and an afterthought.

Hannah looked over at Moishe’s pillow, but he wasn’t there. There was a deep indentation where he’d stretched out and a few orange-and-white hairs on the pillowcase, but he’d obviously defected in the middle of the night. She crawled out of bed, stretched her back, and found her slippers under the bed. She was padding down the hallway in search of her morning infusion of caffeine when she smelled something wonderful.

The lights were on in the kitchen. Hannah’s nostrils flared as she caught the scent again. Sausage. Eggs. Cheese. Onions. Had her fairy godmother arrived bearing breakfast?

“Morning,” Hannah said, spotting her youngest sister at the table the moment she entered her gleaming white cooking and baking domain. She’d been too tired to clean up after making two batches of popovers last night, but Michelle had done it for her. The sink was empty of dirty dishes, the counters were sparkling after a fresh wipedown, and her mixer was spotless and denuded of bowl.

“Morning, Hannah.” Michelle gestured toward the coffee mug that sat at Hannah’s place. “I heard you get up, so I poured your coffee. Breakfast will be ready in…” She paused to look up at the apple-shaped clock that hung over the kitchen table. “Three minutes. It’s just cooling now.”

“Thanks,” Hannah said, taking a huge swig of coffee that might, if she drank enough, render her capable of more than one-word sentences.

“It’s a recipe one of my roommates gave me for a breakfast omelet. She said her mother always makes it for Christmas morning because you can put it all together the night before, refrigerate it, and bake it the next morning.”

“Did you?” Hannah asked. Now she was up to two words. She reached for her mug of coffee again in the hopes of increasing her sentence length even more.

“I did.”

Two words. Michelle must be catching it from her. Hannah took another big gulp coffee and forced out her next question. “Where was it?” And then she drew a deep breath of relief. Three words. She was getting better.

“In the refrigerator.”

She’d brought Michelle up to three words, too. Now it was time to do even better. “Down at the bottom?” she asked.

Four words! She was almost cured. All it took was concentration.

“In the meat drawer.”

Hannah took a deep breath. Their morning conversation, if you could call it that, reminded her of trying to start an outboard motor. You gave it a yank and a little gas, and it gave you a couple of putt-putts. You gave it a harder yank and a little more gas, and it produced more putt-putts. Then, when you gave it all you had and the level of gas was just right, it actually started with a roar and it took you across the lake.

Without another word, Hannah got up and refilled her coffee mug. She needed more gas. She drank it down despite the fact that it was piping hot, and her eyelids popped all the way open. “I don’t have any meat in the meat pan, so that’s why I didn’t see it.”

“I put it there on purpose. I wanted to surprise you, so I stopped at the Quick Stop on the way home and bought everything I needed. It’s just a little thank-you for letting me stay with you. With her working all the time, it was a real drag at Mother’s.”

“Uh-oh,” Hannah said, remembering that she’d promised Michelle she’d try to find out what was keeping their mother so busy every night in her office.

“What?”

They were down to one-word responses again, but that didn’t worry Hannah. She knew that now she was capable of a string of words that made sense. “I forgot all about Mother’s little secret,” she admitted.

“That’s not surprising after what happened last night.”

“I know, but I can’t help wondering what else I’m forgetting.”

“Maybe you should keep a to-do list.”

“I did that. I still do sometimes. But if I’m really busy, I forget to look at it, and that defeats the whole purpose.”

Michelle laughed and got to her feet. She walked over to the counter to dish up two portions of the omelet she’d made and carried them to the table. “Why don’t you get a cell phone with a built-in electronic notebook? All you have to do is program it for the time you want to be reminded of something, and it beeps.”

Hannah made a face. “I really don’t want to go that high-tech. Getting a computer was bad enough, and I only did it because I lost that bet with Andrea.”

“I saw it in the living room. It’s still in the box, and you haven’t even set it up.”

“That’s right.”

“Well, why not?”

“Because I don’t have a cell phone with an electronic notebook that beeps to remind me,” Hannah said, digging into the excellent breakfast that Michelle had served.

The sense of good humor her youngest sister had served along with her delicious omelet was short lived. Hannah had taken only three bites of her sister’s delicious concoction when the phone rang.

Michelle glanced up at the clock. It was two minutes to six. “Who’d be calling at this hour of the morning?”

“Mike, Norman, Mother, Bill, or Lisa,” Hannah answered, ticking them off on her fingers. “The only one it couldn’t be is Andrea.”

“Because she doesn’t get up before eight?”

“You got it,” Hannah said, standing up to reach for the phone on the wall. But just as her fingers were about to connect with the receiver, she happened to glance at Moishe.

His fur was puffed up to twice his normal size, and his back was arched in a classic Halloween cat pose. His tail was swishing back and forth like a scythe in a reaper’s hands, and instead of a purr, a low growl emanated from his throat. He was staring at the phone with yellow eyes that were narrowed to slits, and he looked ferocious enough to leap through the air and puncture the wall with his claws.

Hannah pointed, and Michelle looked worried. “What’s wrong with him?”

“He knows who it is.”

“How can he know that?”

Hannah shrugged. “I’m not sure, but he’s only been wrong once or twice. Maybe he’s picking up some kind of cue from me, or maybe he’s just extra sensitive. I’d better answer before he rips the phone off the wall.”

“Good idea,” Michelle said, still staring at Moishe with some alarm.

Hannah picked up the receiver and brought it to her ear. “Hello, Mother,” she said.

In the ensuing silence Hannah could hear the sound of a clock ticking on the other end of the line. Then the clock began to strike the hour, a bell-like chiming that confirmed the identity of her caller. It was a gilded clock from the early eighteen hundreds that Delores had brought home from Granny’s Attic to put on the shelf in her breakfast nook.

“What is it, Mother?” Hannah asked. “I know you’re there.”

There was an exasperated sigh and then Delores spoke. “I do wish you wouldn’t do that, Hannah. “It turns me tip over tail.”

“What?”

“Sorry, dear. It’s a Regency term that means it upsets me. And speaking of being upset…”

Hannah took a deep breath and winked at Michelle. She knew exactly what was coming.

“I was just listening to Jake and Kelly on KCOW radio and they said that someone coshed Willa Sunquist over the head last night at the fair and killed her!”

“They said coshed?” Hannah was surprised. She’d catered enough cookies, coffee, and tea at the Lake Eden Regency Romance Club to know that coshed meant to strike a blow.

“Of course they didn’t say coshed. They probably don’t even know what it means. They just announced that a blow to the head killed her.”

“I know, Mother.”

“Then you were listening, too?”

“Not exactly.” Hannah sent up a silent thank you to whoever had written the press release for not adding anything about how she’d found Willa’s body.

“You weren’t listening to Jake and Kelly, but you knew about it?”

“Yes, I knew.”

It took Delores a moment, but then she gasped. “Don’t tell me!”

“All right. I won’t. Was there anything else you wanted, Mother?”

“Hannah Louise Swensen! This is no time to be flippant. It’s not at all becoming. I don’t know how you expect anyone to take you seriously if you insist on treating…”

“I’m sorry, Mother,” Hannah interrupted what promised to be a lengthy lecture on improper behavior for a lady.

“That’s better. Now tell me you didn’t.”

“I can’t do that.”

Delores groaned so loudly, it hurt Hannah’s ear. “You have got to stop doing this, Hannah! It’s bad enough that you trifle with the affections of those two perfectly lovely men. One of them cared enough to build you a house, you know.”

“It’s Norman’s house, not mine,” Hannah defended herself.

“Are you going to deny that you designed it with him?”

“No, but it was for a contest.”

“Really, Hannah! You’re acting as if you have windmills in your head!”

“What?” Hannah was genuinely confused. She hadn’t heard that particular phrase before.

“It means confused. They used it all the time in Regency England. If you’re half as bright as I think you are, you’ll realize that the contest had nothing to do with Norman’s real motivation. He wanted to build a house for you. And he did.”

Hannah was silent. What could she say? Her mother could be right.

“If you have any doubt, go out and look at his den,” Delores said. “But that’s enough about Norman. Tell me everything about it.”

“About what?”

“About Willa, of course. Bertie told me she had her hair done, and Claire mentioned that she bought an expensive dress. Do you think it was date rape gone bad?”

“Date rape?” Hannah choked out the words.

“Yes. You know what that is, don’t you?”

“I know, but how do you know?” Hannah couldn’t help asking.

“Dr. Love discussed it with a caller last week.”

“You listen to Dr. Love?” Hannah was shocked. The advisor to the lovelorn on KCOW radio had a reputation for being outrageously outspoken.

“It’s either that or the farm report, and I’ve heard enough about mastitis to last me for the next fifty years. The radio in the lounge only gets two stations, so we listen to Dr. Love while we’re having lunch.”

“Okay. I’ve really got to go, Mother. I haven’t even taken my shower yet, and I’m due at work in forty-five minutes.”

“Just a minute, Hannah! You haven’t told me anything yet. Was it…bad?”

Hannah knew what her mother wanted. Delores expected her to couch her description of the murder scene in carefully chosen euphemisms. But Hannah didn’t have the time or the patience to do that right now.

“Call me later,” she said, standing to hang up the phone. “I’ll tell you all about it then. I’m running late and I have to get ready for work.”

“Wait!” There was a frantic command from the other end of the line. “Just tell me where you found her. They didn’t say that on the radio, and Bill won’t tell me a thing.”

It was clear that Delores wanted a juicy tidbit for the Lake Eden gossip hotline, something no one else but an insider would know. She’d obviously called Bill first and failed to learn anything she hadn’t already known, and now she was trying her eldest daughter.

Hannah glanced at Michelle. Her youngest sister was holding Moishe in her lap while she chuckled silently. Michelle’s whole body was shaking with mirth, and Moishe looked as if he wasn’t sure whether he should bail or attempt to ride it out.

“Okay, Mother,” she said turning back to the phone. “I’ll tell you one thing that you didn’t hear on the radio. Chances are, the police don’t know it either. And when I tell you, I’m hanging up so I can get ready for work. Is that a deal?”

“Of course.”

Delores sounded eager and Hannah rolled her eyes. She’d make this fast. “Willa was wearing the new dress she bought from Claire,” Hannah said, “and she was also wearing new shoes she bought to go with the dress.” And then, at the first squawk of protest, Hannah lifted the receiver from her ear and hung up.

Fifteen minutes later, Hannah looked back up at the clock and groaned. She’d just fielded two more phone calls. One was from Pam Baxter, who wanted to know if she should call Lisa at home to explain the situation and ask her to fill in on the judging panel. Hannah had told her yes, hung up the phone, and it had run again immediately. This time it was Lisa to report that Pam had called about taking Willa’s place on the panel of judges. Lisa said she’d let Pam know by noon, but she wanted to ask some questions about it when Hannah got down to The Cookie Jar.

“I’d better hurry,” Hannah said, glancing at the clock as she carried her dishes to the sink.

“Go take your shower and get dressed,” Michelle said, reaching for the omelet pan and pulling it closer. “I’ll catch the phone if it rings. I’m going to pick out some of this sausage for Moishe.”

“Good idea. He’s always loved sausage.” Hannah headed for the kitchen doorway, but the phone rang as she passed by the table. “What is it about a ringing phone that I can’t ignore?” she asked, reaching out to grab it. “Grand Central Station. This is Hannah speaking.”

“Hi, Hannah,” a familiar voice greeted her, and Hannah smiled. It was Norman, and he wouldn’t try to probe her for more information about Willa’s murder. “Do you have a minute?” he asked.

“For you I have two.” Hannah sank down into a chair.

“Then I’ll make it fast. First of all, I want to apologize again for being so insensitive last night.”

“Apology accepted.”

“Good. And I’d like the two of you to join me for dinner tonight.”

“We’d love to, but we can’t. Michelle has to be at the fairgrounds from noon until eight tonight.”

“I didn’t mean Michelle. I know she has a full schedule. I was talking about you and Moishe.”

“You’re inviting Moishe to join us for dinner?”

“Yes. I’ve got an idea for perking up his appetite. I know you want to see Michelle in the talent competition, so I thought we’d eat early. Bring the big guy out to my place at five.”

“It sounds great, but I’ll only have forty-five minutes. I’ve got a six o’clock meeting with Pam and whoever fills in for Willa at the fairgrounds. We have to go over the rules for judging.”

“That’s okay. I’ll have everything all ready. I’ll get takeout from Sally at the Inn, and we’ll eat in my new den. It’s the only room that’s completely furnished. Then I’ll take Moishe back to your place for you, and you can go straight to your rules meeting.”

Hannah was about to beg off and ask him to make it another, less hectic night, when she remembered her mother’s comment about Norman’s new den.

“Okay. See you at five.”

“Wonderful. Now there’s just one other thing…”

“What?”

“I know Mike doesn’t want any help from anybody, but you’re going to investigate, aren’t you?”

“Me? Investigate? How can I investigate when I’m not a licensed member of a law enforcement agency?”

Norman let out a yelp of laughter. “You’re right, of course. See you at five with the big guy.”

“What are we having for dinner?”

“Boneless leg of lamb with wild rice and baby asparagus. Sally said it was one of your favorites.”

“It is. I’ll cut off a little piece for Moishe. I don’t think he’s ever had lamb.”

“No need for that. I ordered a special entrée for him. If the big guy asks, you can tell him he’s having mixed grill.”

“That’s really sweet of you, Norman.” Hannah began to smile. Some men might be nice to their girlfriends’ pets because it was politic to do so, but Norman really cared about Moishe.

BREAKFAST OMELET

Do not preheat the oven—this breakfast dish needs to be refrigerated before it can be baked.

Hannah’s 1st Note: I didn’t have the heart to tell Michelle that this dish wasn’t technically an omelet. What’s in a name anyway? It’s like Shakespeare said, Would a rose by any other name smell as sweet?—or in this case, as savory?

1½ pounds skinless sausage links or breakfast sausage patties

8 slices white bread (white, sourdough, French, country, etc.)

¾ pound grated cheddar cheese (approx. 3 cups, the sharper the cheddar, the better)

½ cup chopped onion

¼ cup finely chopped green peppers

6 eggs

½ teaspoon salt

1½ cups milk

½ cup half-and-half, or cream

1 Tablespoon prepared mustard (I used stone ground)

1 can (10¾ ounces) condensed cream of mushroom soup, undiluted

¼ cup sherry[***]

1 can (5 ounces) sliced mushrooms, drained

Spray the inside of a 2-quart casserole dish with Pam or other nonstick cooking spray. A 9-inch by 13-inch cake pan will also work well for this recipe.

Cut the sausage links into thirds and sauté them until they’re lightly browned over medium heat on the stovetop. If you used patties instead of links, cut each one into four parts and sauté them until they’re lightly browned.

While your sausage is browning, cut the crusts from the slices of bread. (You can either save the crusts to feed to the birds, or throw them away, your choice.) Cut the remaining bread into one-inch cubes. Toss them into the bottom of your casserole or cake pan.

Drain the fat from your sausage. Put the drained sausage on top of the bread cubes in the casserole. (Mother used to save the fat from sausage or bacon for Dad—he used it for frying eggs when he had one of his penny-ante poker nights.)

Sprinkle the grated cheese over the top of the sausage.

Sprinkle the chopped onions over the cheese.

Sprinkle the chopped green peppers on top of the onions.

(Or, if you like things spicy, substitute ¼ cup chopped jalapeños.)

Whisk the eggs with the salt, milk, half-and-half or cream, and prepared mustard in a bowl by hand, or beat them with an electric mixer.

Pour the egg mixture over the top of the casserole, cover it tightly with plastic wrap, and refrigerate it overnight.

(Michelle says that now you can sleep soundly because you know you’ve got breakfast almost ready to go in the morning.)

The Next Morning, 2 hours before you want to serve breakfast:

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F., rack in the middle position.

Take the casserole from the refrigerator and remove the plastic wrap. Place it on a baking sheet with sides, if you have it. A jellyroll pan will work beautifully.

Mix the condensed cream of mushroom soup, the sherry (or equivalent), and the drained, sliced mushrooms in a mixing bowl.

Pour the mushroom mixture over the top of the casserole.

Bake the casserole for 1½ hours at 350 degrees F.

Remove the casserole from the oven and let it stand for 10 minutes to set up before serving.

Hannah’s 2ndNote: Michelle told me that she once used some of her roommate’s leftover champagne instead of the sherry and it was really good. I didn’t ask her how her underage roommate got the champagne in the first place.

Chapter Fifteen

“But do you really think I’m qualified to do it?” Lisaasked, taking the last two trays of cookies out of the oven and sliding them onto the baker’s rack.

“You’re every bit as qualified as I am. You’ve been baking all your life.”

“But so have you. And your life is a lot longer than mine.” Lisa stopped and made a face. “That was tactless, wasn’t it?”

“Don’t ask me. I’m not exactly the guru of diplomacy, myself.”

Lisa giggled and Hannah was reminded again of how young she was. Her partner was a study in contradictions. There were times when she was amazingly mature and responsible, especially when it came to the business, her recent marriage, and her father’s care. But there were other times when Lisa still acted like the twenty-year-old she was. There had been several occasions over the past two years when Hannah had come in to find her partner dancing around the workstation with a broom as her partner, humming, “Some Day My Prince Will Come.”

“So you think I should do it?” Lisa asked again.

“I do. What does Herb think?”

“The same as you. Of course Herb thinks I can do anything, except…” Lisa paused and began to frown. “I was going to say that I’ll be on the judging panel if you’ll do a favor for me. But that’s not really fair, is it?”

“Not really, but of course I’ll be glad to do whatever…” Hannah stopped speaking in midpromise. The last time she’d promised a favor without knowing what it was, Andrea had tricked her into chaperoning a group of her high school girlfriends at a rock concert.

“You were about to make a blanket promise, but you changed your mind, didn’t you?”

“Not exactly. I’ll do it, whatever it is, as long as your favor doesn’t involve a rock concert, or physical pain. And come to think about it, they could be the same thing.”

Lisa laughed. “No rock concert and no physical pain. Unless…are you claustrophobic?”

“I don’t think so. I can hide in a closet, no problem. I’ve done it a couple of times when I was snooping. And I’ve wiggled under my bed on my stomach to fish out one of Moishe’s toys.”

“Oh, good! Then you’re definitely not claustrophobic,” Lisa said, sounding very relieved. “I am.”

“Claustrophobic?”

“Yes. I didn’t know it until I volunteered to be Herb’s assistant and then it was too late. I didn’t want him to think I’d lost confidence in his ability to do the trick. It’s just…the minute he closes that box, I’m absolutely terrified.”

“You’re talking about the lady in the box that the magician saws in half?”

“No. That one doesn’t bother me at all, but it’s really an expensive setup and we’re still saving up for it. As long as my head’s out, I’m fine. It’s just the sword trick that gets to me.”

“Hold on,” Hannah said as a dreadful vision flashed through her mind. She pictured herself blindfolded and shackled in front of a wooden backdrop while an insane magician threw daggers at her. She could understand the terrified part, especially since Herb had never been able to hit the broad side of a barn when they’d played softball in high school. But that wouldn’t make Lisa claustrophobic, would it? Perhaps she’d gotten her tricks mixed up.

“What?” Lisa asked, watching the expressions cross Hannah’s face.

“You said sword, not dagger, right?”

“Right.”

Hannah came close to sighing in relief, but she knew she wasn’t safe quite yet. “Will you describe the trick for me?” she asked.

“The assistant gets in the box and the magician closes it up. It’s like an old-fashioned wooden coffin standing upright, and it’s called the magic cabinet. The assistant gets in the position that’s printed on the inside of the lid. It’s really easy, Hannah. There are little handholds and footholds and everything. You really can’t do it wrong.”

That remains to be seen, Hannah thought, but she didn’t say it. “Then what happens?” she asked.

“Then Herb pokes these long swords all the way through the box. He leaves them in and by the time he’s through, you think it’s impossible for the assistant to survive. But she does, and that’s because she gets into the right position before he starts poking in the swords.”

“It’s an optical illusion?”

Lisa shrugged. “I’m not really sure how it works. All I know is that every time I get inside and Herb shuts the door, I have to bite my lips to keep from screaming for him to let me out. I’m really relieved that he doesn’t want me to do it for amateur night. But I promised I’d try to find him a replacement assistant.”

“You said Herb doesn’t want you to do it?”

“That’s right. We showed the trick to Dad and Marge last night, and they said it would be better if Herb found someone else.”

“Why?”

“I’m too little. It’s a big coffin…I mean, box, and they thought the audience would be more impressed with Herb’s act if we found a really big woman to be his assistant.” Lisa stopped and gave a little groan. “I put my foot in it, didn’t I?”

“You could say that.”

“What I meant to say was that it would be more impressive if Herb had a tall assistant who filled out the box…heightwise, that is.”

Hannah couldn’t help but laugh. Lisa looked so chagrinned.

“Maybe I’d better rephrase that. What I meant was…”

“Stop!” Hannah held up her hand in the universal gesture that meant halt in any language. “Don’t make it worse. I’ll do it.”

“You will?”

“Sure. It’ll give me more time to nose around at the fairgrounds.”

It took Lisa a second, but then she nodded. “So you’re going to try to find Willa’s killer?”

“Of course. Willa was my friend. I can’t just leave everything up to an official detective who calls her the victim instead of her name.”

“Uh-oh. Somebody’s in the doghouse.” Lisa took one look at Hannah’s angry face and changed the subject. “So when can you practice with Herb?”

Hannah countered with her own question. “When is the contest?”

“Tomorrow at five, right after the rodeo’s over. It’s on the same stage as the Miss Tri-County competition.”

“Fine. I can practice this afternoon if we decide to close early, or…” Hannah stopped and started to smile. “If Herb can bring everything here, we can practice in the coffee shop. Any customers we have can be the audience. And if we don’t have enough customers, we can recruit some from Bertie. She always has ladies waiting to have their hair done.”

“That’ll be fun. Let me call Herb and set it up. He can do it on his lunch hour if one o’clock is okay.”

“It’s fine. And then you can run up and tell Bertie. And stop in at Granny’s Attic on your way back. Mother and Carrie are out at the fairgrounds, but I’ll bet Luanne would like to come.”

“How about the senior center?” Lisa asked, looking hopeful. “Dad’s seen the act before, but the other seniors haven’t.”

“Sure. The more the merrier.”

“Thanks, Hannah. You’re the best friend ever!”

Hannah smiled, but when Lisa left to put on the coffee in the coffee shop and make her call to Herb, her smile slipped a bit. She hadn’t exactly told the truth to her partner. She hated small, cramped spaces. She could endure them for a few minutes, but being closed up in something that looked like an old-fashioned coffin wasn’t exactly her idea of fun.

“Oh, well,” she said, shrugging slightly. Anything for her partner. And the trick would take only a few minutes, so there was really nothing to worry about, was there?

It was twelve noon when Mike came into The Cookie Jar. Hannah’s heart leapt. There was no other way to describe the sensation. It reminded her of the kiss-me-quicks her dad had driven over when she was a child. Hannah had no idea how the term originated, and the town of Lake Eden seemed evenly divided on naming them. Some, like Hannah’s father, called them kiss-me-quicks. Others, like Lisa’s family, called them tummy-ticklers. They were gradual rises in the road, small hills with a gentle rise and a steep descent. If you gunned the engine just right and backed off on the accelerator the instant you reached the top of the hill, the resulting drop left you with a sudden breathless feeling. It was the same feeling Hannah experienced every time she saw Mike.

“Hannah,” he said, hanging his sheriff’s baseball cap on the coat rack by the door.

“Mike,” she replied, watching as he strode to the counter. How could any ordinary human being walk with so much assurance? He exuded self-confidence.

“Are you still mad at me?” he asked, taking a seat at the deserted counter.

You’re the detective. You figure it out, Hannah thought, but of course she didn’t say it. The customers scattered at the tables were staring at them, and all conversation had ceased the moment Mike had approached the counter. Every man and woman in the place was hoping to overhear something new about Willa’s murder investigation.

“Well?” Mike prodded.

Hannah shook her head. The lie simply wouldn’t pass her lips. And then she put on a smile for the benefit of her customers and said, “I know you like coffee, and I made a new batch of cookies I think you’ll like. Do you want to try one?”

“Well, sure!” Mike smiled right back. “What do you call them?”

“Cappuccino Royales. They’re coffee cookies with milk chocolate chips.” Hannah took two cookies from the display jar for Mike. “Let me know what you think.”

Mike chewed thoughtfully, and then he started to grin. “I really like the strong coffee flavor. They’d be great on a stakeout. They’d also be a hit out at the station this afternoon.”

“What’s going on at the station?” Hannah asked.

“We’re having a strategy meeting about…” Mike glanced around and he seemed to realize, for the very first time, that every other customer in the place was silent. “Um…police business. You know.”

And Hannah did know. Mike was meeting with the other detectives to discuss a plan for solving Willa’s murder. “I’ll be happy to provide the cookies for your meeting. How many do you need?”

“There’ll be six at the meeting, but I’ll never hear the end of it if I don’t buy enough cookies for everybody. And I’ll buy them, Hannah.”

“But I’ll be happy to give them to you. I believe in supporting our local police.”

“And this local detective believes in supporting you. I won’t take no for an answer. I’m paying and that’s that. I figure I can use four, maybe five dozen. Do you have that many?”

Hannah glanced at the display jar again. There were about a half-dozen left, and Lisa had brought them all out from the kitchen. “What time is your meeting?”

“Three-thirty, but don’t put yourself out on my account. If you don’t have enough of those coffee cookies, just give me what you’ve got and fill in with another kind.”

Hannah debated the wisdom of that a moment, and then she shook her head. Mike hadn’t said a word about the victim, and he was being very careful not to offend her. He deserved to be rewarded for good behavior. “I’ll bake another batch for you.”

“Will they be ready in time?”

“Absolutely. They might be slightly warm, but that won’t bother you, will it?”

Mike shook his head. “I bet they’ll be even better that way.”

“It’s a deal, then. I’ll drop them off at the sheriff’s station no later than three-fifteen.”

“Thanks, Hannah.” Mike popped the last of the second cookie into his mouth, raised the mug of coffee to his lips and drained it, and stood up. Then he pulled some money out of his wallet and left it on the counter. “This should cover it. If it doesn’t, just let me know. I’ll see you at three-fifteen. If you’re there a little early, I’ll even buy you a cup of coffee.”

Hannah shuddered. She still hadn’t made up her mind where to find the worst coffee. The last time she’d cared to research it, it had been a three-way tie between Doc Knight’s hospital vending machines, the pot that Jon Walker never washed in his office at the Lake Eden Neighborhood Pharmacy, and anything that was brewed anywhere within the confines of the Winnetka County Sheriff’s Station.

“Thanks, but I have a lot to live for,” she said.

“What?”

“Never mind.” Hannah gave a wave as Mike retrieved his cap and headed out the door. And then she hurried to the kitchen to mix up another batch of Cappuccino Royales.

CAPPUCCINO ROYALES

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F., rack in the middle position.

2 cups melted butter (4 sticks, 1 pound)

¼ cup instant coffee powder (I used Folgers)

2 teaspoons vanilla

2 teaspoons brandy or rum extract

3 cups white (granulated) sugar[***]

3 beaten eggs (just whip them up in a glass with a fork)

2 teaspoons baking soda

1 teaspoon baking powder

3 cups milk chocolate chips

5½ cups flour (don’t sift—pack it down in the measuring cup)

Melt the butter in large microwave-safe bowl at 3 minutes on HIGH. Or melt it in a saucepan over low heat on the stovetop.

Mix in the instant coffee powder, vanilla and rum or brandy extract. Stir it until the coffee powder has dissolved.

Add the sugar, beaten eggs, baking soda, and baking powder. Mix well.

Stir in the milk chocolate chips. Mix until they’re evenly distributed.

Add the flour in one cup increments, stirring after each addition. Mix until the flour is thoroughly incorporated.

Form walnut-sized dough balls with your fingers. Roll them in a small bowl with granulated sugar if you decided you wanted them sweeter.

Place the dough balls on greased cookie sheets, 12 to a standard-size sheet. (I used Pam to grease my cookie sheet, but any nonstick cooking spray will do.)

Flatten the dough balls with the back of a metal spatula, or with the palm of your impeccably clean hand.

Bake the cookies at 350 degrees F. for 9 to 11 minutes. Let them cool on the cookie sheets for 2 minutes, and then transfer the cookies to a wire rack to complete cooling.

Yield: 12 to 14 dozen cookies (depending on cookie size)

Hannah’s Note: These cookies freeze well if you have any left over.

Chapter Sixteen

“What are you doing here, Mother?” Hannah asked, staring at Delores in shock.

“Did I ever fail to attend one of your school programs?”

“No, but this is…”

“I even showed up for the Chorale Club concert when you were in sixth grade,” Delores interrupted her, “and I knew the music teacher had asked you to just pretend to sing.”

“That was really good of you, Mother. But this isn’t quite the same as…”

“Maybe I wouldn’t have if Marge hadn’t called me, but she was so excited about Herb’s debut. And then I heard about you, so of course I had to come. I knew you’d see the light eventually, dear. Dithering between two perfectly acceptable men just isn’t the smart thing to…”

“Mother!” This time Hannah got her interruption in first. “The audience is due here any minute, and I don’t think we should be discussing something this personal in pub…”

“You’re right, of course,” Delores broke in. “I’m just so terribly grateful to hear you’ve finally come to your senses. Now you’ll see for yourself that I’m right.”

For one confusing moment, it was almost as if her mother were speaking in a foreign tongue. Hannah had felt like that only once before, when she’d tried to understand college trigonometry without first completing courses in geometry and algebra. It was a mind freeze, and all reason came to a screeching halt. The words her mother spoke were perfectly good words, and each one had at least one perfectly good definition. Together they formed perfectly sensible sentences, but the meaning of those sentences remained as elusive as the identity of Willa’s killer.

“Mother? I really don’t have the foggiest notion what…”

“Hush, dear. Bertie’s about to come in the door, and you know what a big gossip she is. Did he tell you what you’ll be having?”

“Having?” Hannah repeated dumbly, as if she’d never heard that particular verb before.

“For dinner, dear.”

The entrance of the noun caused the light to dawn, and the glow it shed was clear, unsullied, even brilliant. Hannah hadn’t lost her wits, and her mother wasn’t speaking in code. Delores was talking about the dinner she’d agreed to have with Norman in the den of his new house tonight.

“Lamb,” Hannah said, feeling in control once again. “He’s picking up takeout lamb dinners from Sally at the Inn.”

“Do you think you’ve got it?” Herb asked, looking every bit as nervous as the day he’d had to recite the witches’ speech from MacBeth in English class.

“I think so. Double, double, toil, and trouble. You knocked ’em dead then, you’ll knock ’em dead now.”

Herb’s mouth dropped open to match the little round silver moons on his purple velvet cape. “What are you talking about?” he asked, and then, a heartbeat later, he began to laugh. “I get it! High school English, Mr. Merek.”

“Exactly right. No way you can be that nervous again. And you got the highest mark in the class.”

“That’s true.” Herb looked very relieved. “Let’s go over it one more time, just to be sure. What do you do when we walk on stage?”

“I just stand there, a little behind you. And you give your speech about magic.”

“Good. And when I’m through, I command you to get in the magic cabinet.”

“Command?” Hannah asked, bristling slightly.

“Sorry, wrong word. I don’t command anything. I suggest that you get in the magic cabinet. And you do.”

“And then I get into position while you say a few things about how dangerous this is, and how you really hope they’ll be able to clean the bloodstains off the floor of the coffee shop, and how I’m the third assistant you’ve had this year.”

“Right. All that is to build up the suspense.”

“And then you ask me if I’m ready, and I call out that I am.”

“Right again. That’s the cue that tells me you’re in position and I can start sticking in the swords.”

“How many swords?”

“Twelve. I’ll have the audience count when I stick them into the cabinet, and you’ll be able to hear them.”

“And then you’ll pull them out again?”

“Yes. With difficulty. I’ll pretend that one is stuck. They always gasp when they think about why it might be stuck.”

“Wonderful. And then you open the cabinet door?”

“Not quite. I give another little speech so you have time to get both feet down and you’re ready to move. That speech ends with the words, If you’re still with us, Miss Swensen, give me a sign.”

“Right. And I knock three times on the inside of the cabinet door.”

“Exactly. And then I open the cabinet.”

“And I step out, smiling and unscathed.”

“I think you’ll be perfect, Hannah. You’ve got it all down.” Herb glanced at the old-fashioned pocket watch attached by a jeweled fob to his cape. “It’s almost show time. Are you ready?”

“Absolutely.” Hannah waited until they were ready to step through the swinging door and enter the coffee shop before she said what she’d been thinking about all morning. “Don’t worry, Herb. I’ll be perfectly fine as long as you remember to use the collapsible swords.”

Hannah pulled up in front of the one-story brick sheriff’s station at precisely three o’clock. The magic show with Herb had gone perfectly, except for the slight bobble when her left ankle had almost gotten caught in the strap. She’d discovered that it did take some degree of agility to get into the position required to keep from being skewered by the blades, but some of the swords in critical places were indeed collapsible and would only go in as far as her stomach if she sucked it in.

Anything for my partner, Hannah repeated, her mantra for the next twenty-four hours. She’d promised to find an appropriate costume and meet Herb in the parking lot at the fairgrounds a half-hour early so that they could go over things one more time before the competition.

Once she’d pulled her cookie truck into one of the visitor parking spots at the front of the building, Hannah retrieved the cookie box from the back of her truck and walked to the front door. Someone had been busy decorating the walkway with summer flowers, and Hannah admired the perennials that lined both sides of the sidewalk all the way down to the employee parking lot. She was no flower expert, but they looked like nasturtiums to her. In any event, the orange, red, and yellow flowers were cheery and took some of the onus away from walking down this sidewalk to talk about a crime.

Hannah stepped inside the first glass door, waited until it had closed behind her, and waved at the desk sergeant as she opened the second door. Most people didn’t know it, but Bill had told her that the desk sergeant had a button to press that would lock the visitor midway between the two doors. It was a security precaution that had never been used, but if it was ever needed, it could be.

She stepped up to the desk and greeted the sergeant on duty, Rick Murphy. He was Lonnie’s older brother and he was also a detective. “Hi, Rick. What are you doing on the desk?”

“Disability for two more weeks,” Rick said, stretching out his leg and showing Hannah his cast. “I slid into home and got creamed.”

“I remember.” Hannah gave a little grin. The Cookie Jar fielded the only all-female softball team on the Lake Eden city schedule, and her catcher, Rose McDermott, had been as unmovable as a chunk of granite when she’d tagged Rick out.

“You want Mike?” Rick asked, grinning in a way that made Hannah bristle slightly.

Guys will be guys, she reminded herself, and did her best to curb the impulse to take him down a peg or two. “That’s right,” she said, smiling sweetly. “I’m delivering cookies for the detectives’ meeting. I guess you won’t be there, right?”

Rick looked disgruntled as he shook his head. It was clear he didn’t like being chained to the desk, and Hannah took pity on him. She slipped several cookies out of the bakery box and placed them on his desk blotter. “Here you go. They’ll never miss them.”

“Thanks, Hannah.” Now Rick was all smiles. “I think Mike’s in his office. You know where it is, don’t you?”

“Sure. Right next to Bill’s,” Hannah said, reminding Rick ever so nicely that she was the sister-in-law of his boss, the Winnetka County Sheriff, and he’d be wise not to treat her lightly. “I’ll stop in to see Bill first.”

“Okay. You can go on down. I’ll page him and tell him you’re coming.”

Hannah walked down the tiled hallway and stopped at Bill’s office. The door was open and she peeked in, but no one was inside. She went on to Mike’s office, but before she could tap on the door to announce herself, she heard voices. Mike had someone in his office. It might be important and she wouldn’t interrupt him. She’d just sit in Bill’s office and wait for Mike’s visitor to leave.

Bill’s office was the biggest one in the administrative wing, but that wasn’t saying much. The county hadn’t even come close to spending a fortune on accommodating its highest-ranking law enforcement officer. There was a two-window view of the parking lot, one window more than the other offices had, and there was room for three chairs in front of Bill’s desk, rather than two. Since Bill’s office was wider, there was room for an entertainment center with a television set and a conversational grouping of four barrel-backed chairs arranged around an octagonal table. The furniture wasn’t new. When the sheriff’s station was first built, Rod Metcalf had covered the grand opening in the Lake Eden Journal. Hannah remembered reading that every stick of furniture, office or otherwise, had been provided at no cost to the taxpayer. It had come from donations that had been refurbished by the inmates at the St. Cloud Correctional Facility.

As Hannah glanced around Bill’s office, she saw the fine touch of her sister’s hand in several places. A brass ship’s lamp sat on the bookcase in the corner, casting a soft light in what would have been a shadowy corner. There was a photo cube on Bill’s desk containing pictures of Andrea, Tracey, and Bethany. The windows were still outfitted with blinds to block out the glaring afternoon sun, but Andrea had hung curtains on either side of the two windows and tied them together with a valance of the same material. She was about to walk over to look at the framed picture on the wall, which looked like one that Tracey had drawn, when Bill’s secretary, Barbara Donnelly, came in the connecting door.

“Hi, Hannah. Rick called me from the front desk to tell me you were here. Bill got held up in the parking lot. He’s just giving the new class of checkpoint volunteers their letters of certification. They’ll be out there this weekend, so don’t drink and drive.”

“I won’t.” Hannah opened the box of cookies and held it out toward Barbara. “Would you like a cookie before the guys eat them all?”

Barbara smiled and reached in the box. “Thanks. Bill ought to be back here before long. Do you want me to turn on the TV for you?”

“No, thanks. I’ve been talking to people all day, and I could use a little peace and quiet.”

“How about some coffee?”

“I’d better not. I’ve been drinking it since five this morning, and I’m a little coffeed out.”

“Okay. If you need anything, just open the door and stick your head in my office.”

After Barbara had gone back to her office, Hannah took a seat in one of the barrel-backed chairs. It was more comfortable than she’d thought it would be and she leaned back and closed her eyes. That was when she heard voices from the office next door. Mike’s office. The conversation had been inaudible only moments before, but now it was getting louder.

Hannah moved closer to the wall the two offices shared and took up a position by the bookcase. This could be interesting.

“I’m not going to take you off the case!” It was Mike’s voice, and he punctuated the sentence with what sounded to Hannah like his fist thumping the top of his desk with considerable force. “You don’t get to pick and choose the cases you work on. You’ll do your job like everyone else!”

“But I went out with Willa a couple of times!”

Hannah began to frown. She wondered if that was before or after Lonnie had started to date Michelle.

“So what if you dated her?” Mike asked.

“Well, how would you feel?”

“I wouldn’t feel. That’s the difference between us. And until you stop empathizing with the victim, you won’t make a good detective.”

“But…how do I stop?”

“For one thing, you call her the vic, or the victim. And if that sounds too hardhearted to you, you call her Miss Sunquist. You never use her first name.”

“What good will that do?”

“It’ll help you to depersonalize her. Every time you feel those emotions welling up and attempting to cripple you from doing your job, you tell yourself, The only thing I can do for her now is catch her killer and make him pay.”

Hannah leaned against the bookcase, her heart beating hard. Had she accused Mike of being callous when all he was trying to do was depersonalize Willa so that he could do his job?

“That all makes sense,” Lonnie said, after a long moment of thought. “But I don’t know if I can do it.”

“Sure you can. Stop concentrating on her, and start focusing on that lousy excuse for a human being who robbed her of the rest of her life.”

“Yeah.” Lonnie sounded thoughtful. “I can see how that’d work.”

“Atta boy! You’ve got the ability to be good, Lonnie. All you have to do is put the empathy on hold and dial up the determination to catch the perp.”

“Right. I think I can do that. There’s just one other thing.”

“What’s that?”

“If you keep your emotions on hold all the time, don’t you get kind of…jaded and cynical?”

“Absolutely. You’ve seen cynical cops, and believe me you don’t want to be one! But I’m not telling you to keep your emotions on hold indefinitely. The only time you have to push that hold button is when you’re working, or when you’re thinking about how to run the case. I wouldn’t be able to have any kind of personal life at all if I shut down my emotions all the time.”

“Does that mean you felt bad about Will…” Lonnie stopped and cleared his throat. “Sorry. I forgot for a second. So you felt bad about the victim, too?”

“Of course I did! But I knew that if I got too empathetic while I was the only cop there, I wouldn’t be able to assess the crime scene analytically and pick up on any clues that her killer might have left behind. Do you get it?”

“I think so.”

“Do you know what I did when I finally got home last night at four in the morning?”

“No. What?”

“I took my emotions off hold. I had to decompress, so I put on my favorite jazz album and I poured myself a brandy. I drank it down, and then I stood under a steaming shower until the hot water ran out.”

“Did it help?”

“Yeah. I felt clean when I got out, almost like I washed away all the dirtbags and scum I have to deal with on a daily basis. And then I put on my sweats and walked barefoot to the living room and stared at the new picture I hung over my couch.”

Hannah drew in her breath sharply. Mike had said he was going to hang her picture over his couch.

“It’s a beautiful picture, and it makes me feel good to look at it,” Mike went on. “And then I told myself, There’s good in the world. All you have to do is look and you’ll see it.”

Hannah swallowed hard. She’d never seen this side of Mike before.

“What’s so interesting about my law enforcement books?” a voice asked, and Hannah turned toward the doorway. Bill was standing there, staring at her curiously.

“I was looking at this one.” Hannah grabbed a heavy book at random. “I’ve always been fascinated by…” She glanced down at the title. “Fingerprint analysis in the eighteenth century.”

“Did you open it?”

Hannah shook her head. “Not yet. I was going to, but you came in, and…”

“Open it now. I want to see the expression on your face.”

Hannah opened the book and frowned as she began to page through it. “But it’s blank!”

“Right. Mike gave it to me when I was sworn in as sheriff.”

“But why would Mike give you a blank…” Hannah stopped speaking and groaned instead. “There was no fingerprint analysis in the eighteenth century!”

“Right again.” Bill glanced down at the box of cookies she’d set on his desk. “Are these for the detectives’ meeting?”

“Yes.”

“What kind are they?”

“They’re Cappuccino Royales.”

“Coffee and chocolate?”

“Yes. Mike tasted a couple at the coffee shop today. I think he’s hoping they’ll make his detectives energetic and euphoric at the same time.”

“Will they?”

“I don’t know, but Bertie Straub tried one and she said she got jazzed up from the coffee and happy from the chocolate. She was going to take some back to the Cut ’n Curl, but she was afraid the chips would melt under the hair dryers.”

Bill looked interested. “How many cookies are there?”

“A little less than ten dozen,” Hannah answered, subtracting for the cookies she’d given Rick and Barbara.

“That should be enough,” Bill said, opening the box and grabbing a sample cookie. “Since I’m the boss, I’d better taste one before I give them to my staff.”

“Of course. Any caring boss would do the same.”

Bill finished the cookie in three bites and reached for another. “Just to make sure they’re all alike,” he explained, eating his second cookie.

“That’s very wise of you. Quality control is important.”

Bill finished eating and picked up the box. “I’m going to go make sure everyone gets two cookies before I take the rest to the meeting. We’re working five assault and batteries from a bachelor party that got out of hand, one stolen horse, two missing gerbils from a kindergarten classroom, three grand theft autos, two B and E’s, and a murder. And that means we could all use a little energy and euphoria around here.”

Chapter Seventeen

“Here we are, Moishe,” Hannah announced, turning into Norman’s driveway. “You’ve never been invited to dinner before, have you?”

Moishe didn’t deign to answer. She’d heard him prowling around in the back of her cookie truck, and he was obviously content to be riding, untethered, with her.

“Just in case you’re interested, Norman ordered mixed grill for you,” Hannah told him, not expecting an answer.

“Rrrrow?” Moishe surprised her by responding. And since the latter part of his yowl ended on a higher note than the beginning, she decided that it was a question.

“That’s right. Mixed grill. Sally’s making it for you. I’ve had it, and it’s delicious.”

This time there was no response, and Hannah concentrated on negotiating the rutted driveway. The spring rains had softened the hard-packed dirt under the gravel, and heavy trucks delivering building supplies had done the rest of the damage. Just as soon as the house was completely finished, Norman would have it graded and paved.

“Here we are,” Hannah said, pulling to a stop as close to the front door as the circular driveway allowed. “You’ve never been here before, so come on up and let me put on your leash.”

But before Hannah could coax her cat to move forward, there was a tap on the window. It was Norman. He must have been watching for her to pull up.

“I’ll take the Big Guy,” Norman offered, opening one of the doors at the back of her truck and scooping Moishe into his arms. “All dressed for dinner, I see,” he said to the cat that was purring like thunder.

“What do you mean?” Hannah asked, totally confused. “He’s not dressed at all.”

“Yes, he is. He’s wearing his harness and that’s got a black tie.”

Hannah groaned all the way into Norman’s foyer. “Great mirror,” she said, noticing the oval glass that hung by the built-in coat rack they’d designed together.

“Of course it’s a great mirror. You picked it out.”

“I did?” Hannah was surprised. She didn’t remember looking through catalogues for mirrors.

“Remember the Bette Davis festival they were running on television?”

“Of course. We must have watched at least four films that night.”

“Five including Whatever Happened To Baby Jane, but who’s counting? But there was a mirror in one of the movies that you said would be perfect for the foyer of our dream house.”

Hannah was impressed that Norman had remembered. But then she had a disturbing thought. “You didn’t buy it from one of those expensive movie memorabilia auction houses, did you?”

“No, Luanne found it at an estate sale in The Cities, and the mothers gave it to me at cost. I had to have it resilvered, but it was worth it.”

Hannah was smiling as she followed Norman to the den. Just being in the house they’d designed together made her happy. She was still smiling as she stepped into the den, but the moment she saw what Norman had done to furnish it, her smile increased by several hundred lumens.

“Gorgeous!” she breathed, taking in the total effect. Norman’s den was elegance and coziness combined. It was comfort food for a weary soul who’d worked hard all day and wanted to relax in an oasis of ease. It was the kind of room that made you feel at home the moment you stepped through the arched doorway and onto the muted plaid carpet.

Once she’d experienced the total effect, Hannah took note of the individual touches. There was a beautifully polished oak bar that ran along one wall and barstools with dark green leather seats that resembled tall captain’s chairs. There was a window behind the bar that would look out over the fruit trees that Norman would eventually plant.

The other end of the large room contained a home theater with a giant television screen that slid up when it wasn’t in use. The television could be seen from the two leather recliners that were positioned as front row seats, the conversational grouping of six chairs in the main room, or the bar area at the opposite end of the room. Even though she wasn’t a sports fan, Hannah could imagine sitting at the bar, eating snacks and watching the Vikings play.

“I ordered a couch to go under the windows,” Norman gestured toward the series of tall, narrow windows that marched across one wall, “but it hasn’t come in yet.”

“This whole room is incredible,” Hannah said, not quite sure which area to explore next. And then she noticed that Norman was heading toward a spiral staircase that was built close to one wall. It was so narrow only one person could use it at a time and it rose up past a series of round windows that faced the side yard, leading to…

“The ceiling?” Hannah breathed, blinking hard. She really had to get a good night’s sleep tonight. Norman had hired excellent carpenters with impeccable references. She must be completely exhausted to imagine that they had built a staircase rising to nowhere. She rubbed her eyes and took another look, but what she’d seen had been so. The staircase was attached at one end to the ceiling.

“What in the world is…” Hannah stopped speaking, so flabbergasted she couldn’t even form the question, as Norman climbed the staircase with Moishe in his arms.

“Here you go, Big Guy,” he said setting him down about halfway up, near a plate that had been placed by one of the round windows. “Dinner theater. You can dine on mixed grill and watch the grackles in the side yard.”

It was a first for Hannah, two dawns in one day. And as the light rose for the second time, brilliant and clear, she realized that her mother was right. Norman had built this house for both of them. The spiral staircase didn’t lead to nowhere. It led to marriage and a special place in their den for her cat!

“Whoa!” Hannah said under her breath. She knew Norman loved her, but she’d thought his proposal was a reaction to Mike’s declaration, a defense against losing the time they spent together. Norman had seemed perfectly content to see her when it suited them both, but perhaps he hadn’t been quite as complacent as she thought.

“Did you build that staircase for me?” she asked, the epitome of tactlessness.

“No, I built it for Moishe,” Norman said with a smile. “It’s working, Hannah.”

“What’s working?”

“The change of scene. The Big Guy’s eating.”

Hannah watched her cat take a morsel of something and swallow it. Then he turned toward the window and stared out at the birds that were strutting around in Norman’s side yard, pecking at things in the grass. Moishe made several ack-ack noises in his throat, licked his lips, and turned back to the plate to take another bite. Norman had figured out a way to get her cat to eat. No doubt Moishe was imagining that he was crunching grackle bones along with the mixed grill Sally had made for him.

“Great plan, Norman,” Hannah praised him. And then both of them watched Moishe eat for several minutes. Between the birds, the gourmet dinner, and the excitement of a new habitat, Moishe was having a wonderful time dining out. Hannah was just wondering how she could duplicate the same circumstances at her condo when she thought of something she’d forgotten. “Uh-oh!” she groaned.

“What?”

“I forgot to bring his litter box.”

“That’s okay. He’s already found mine.”

“Yours?” Hannah started to laugh.

“Well, it’s mine in the sense that I paid for it. But I bought it for him.”

“You didn’t have to do that. You could have just called and reminded me to bring his. I know you had a busy day down at the clinic today.”

“Oh, I didn’t get it today. I bought it at the mall a while ago. I wanted it to fit in the nook by the utility closet, and I had to go to a couple of pet stores before I found one that’d work.”

Hannah was amazed. Norman had planned this out long before he’d invited Moishe to come out to dine this evening. Delores was right. Norman had been planning all along to ask her to marry him. Why else would he buy a litter box when he didn’t even have a cat?

“Time to eat,” Norman said, startling Hannah out of revelation mode. “The timer just buzzed.”

“I didn’t hear it.”

“Of course you didn’t. I’ve got it in my pocket, and it’s turned to vibrate.”

“I didn’t know you could buy a timer like that!”

“It’s not really a timer. It’s a feature on my cell phone. Do you want me to take a picture of Moishe eating before I come down?”

“Sure. I’d like to show Michelle. Do you have your camera with you?”

“No, but I’ll take it with my cell phone. The resolution’s not quite as sharp, but it’s good enough for our purposes.”

Modern technology, Hannah thought as Norman pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, pointed it at Moishe, and took what must be a photo of her cat eating Sally’s dinner. “Hold on a second, and I’ll send it to Sally. She was wondering if her dinner would help.”

“Send it to Sally?” Hannah repeated, feeling a bit like George Washington might have felt if someone had offered to airlift supplies to Valley Forge. “Are you going to print it out and fax it to her?”

“No, I’ll just transmit it with my cell phone, and she’ll see it on her cell phone. Let’s text her. What do you want to say?”

Hannah wasn’t completely unacquainted with technology. She watched the news, and she knew that people communicated with each other by pushing the appropriate letters that were teamed with the number buttons on their cell phones. “Just tell her thanks,” she said.

When Norman was through sending Sally the picture, he came down the stairs and pulled out a stool for Hannah at the bar. Then he ducked behind the glossy surface to set two places with placemats and silverware. He opened the door of the small oven that sat behind the bar for making hot appetizers and pulled out two dinners covered in foil.

“Sally said to be careful of the steam,” he said, lifting the corner of the foil to release a savory cloud of moisture and then removing the foil all the way. He set Hannah’s dinner on her placemat and duplicated the procedure with his. And once he was seated on his own stool behind the bar, he filled two glasses with sparkling water and raised his in a toast. “To Moishe and the return of his appetite,” he said.

“To Moishe,” Hannah echoed. And then she added, “And to his best friend, Norman, who went to a lot of trouble to make both of us feel right at home.”

Naturally they’d talked about Willa’s murder and shed a few tears. Pam had known her the best, and she looked tired and drawn tonight. They’d decided that they couldn’t do a good job judging if they were too busy feeling bad, so they’d agreed to table any thoughts of Willa until the first-place quick bread winner had been chosen.

“If I have to taste another piece of banana bread, I’m going to end up hating bananas!” Lisa declared, draining her coffee cup and heading for the sideboard to pour more from the thermos she’d brought. “Anyone else?”

Hannah shook her head. “Not me. I’m actually going to try to get a good night’s sleep tonight.”

“The caffeine in coffee keeps you awake?” Pam asked, slicing the next quick bread they were scheduled to taste.

“No, caffeine doesn’t bother me at all.”

Both Pam and Lisa looked puzzled, so Hannah explained. “It’s all that liquid. Once I start drinking coffee, I usually finish the pot. And then, when I have to get up during the middle of the night, I think of all the things I have to do in the morning and I can’t get back to sleep.”

“That used to happen to me when I was single,” Pam confided.

Hannah was perplexed. “But it doesn’t happen now that you’re married?”

“That’s right. All I have to do is listen to George breathing, and I go right back to sleep. It’s so deep and rhythmic, like waves washing up against the shore.”

“It’s the same thing with me,” Lisa said. “I used to spend a lot of sleepless nights before I married Herb, but now everything’s changed. I think it’s because Herb’s a warm sleeper and I’ve always been a cool sleeper.”

“What are those?” Hannah asked, a bit startled by this revelation. Lisa was a very private person, and she seldom discussed anything personal about her marriage to Herb.

“A cool sleeper needs lots of blankets and quilts or they shiver all night. I used to use a quilt, even in the summer. But a warm sleeper throws off the blanket and quilts because they’re too hot.”

“That sounds like real incompatibility to me!” Pam remarked, arranging the sample slices on the plates.

“But it’s not incompatible at all. All I have to do is cuddle up next to Herb, and I’m warm again. He’s like a cozy fire in the fireplace, or the warm air from a furnace. It only takes a minute or two, and I’m warm again. And then I go right back to sleep.”

“Well, none of that works with me!” Hannah said, knowing full well that she’d shock Pam and Lisa. “Maybe you didn’t know this about me, but I don’t sleep alone.”

“Moishe,” Lisa said, giving her a smile.

“That’s right. And sleeping with Moishe just doesn’t do the trick. For one thing, he snores. Very loudly. Imagine a freight train going by right next to your ear. And for another thing, if I cuddle up next to him I get a nose full of cat hair.”

Pam was smiling as she carried the three small plates to the table and Hannah was glad. She’d done her best to lighten the heavy mood Willa’s murder and the ensuing investigation had created.

“This is another zucchini bread,” Pam announced, “but this one has cinnamon topping.”

“How many zucchini breads have we tasted tonight?” Hannah asked, frowning slightly.

“Seven. This one is the last one.”

“The contestant left the peel on,” Lisa commented, staring down at the dark green flecks in the bread. “I don’t like the way that looks.”

“Then give a lower grade for appearance,” Pam advised.

Hannah tasted her slice. She wasn’t wild about the cinnamon topping, so she marked the contestant off for that.

“One quick bread left,” Pam said, as they handed in their scorecards, “and then we can declare the winner.”

Lisa looked hopeful. “Tell me the last bread isn’t banana.”

“Or zucchini, or date-nut,” Hannah added.

“It’s not any of those,” Pam informed them, slicing the quick bread and plating it. “This is Mango Bread.”

Hannah and Lisa exchanged astonished glances, and Pam laughed. “It’s true,” she told them. “The contestant wrote a note on the back of the recipe saying that she wanted to try something different.”

“It’s different, all right!” Lisa said. “I don’t think I’ve ever tasted a mango. Where did she get them?”

“She went all the way to The Cities to get hers. They have them at some of the specialty produce places in the summer. But she said that if you can’t find mangos, you can use fresh or canned peaches.”

“Really?” Hannah was intrigued. “Peach Bread is pretty unusual, too.”

“Well, she baked both so that we could compare them.” Pam carried the plates to the table. “The Mango Bread is on the left, and the Peach Bread is on the right. Let’s try the Mango Bread first.”

There was silence while all three of them tasted and Lisa was the first to break it. “I like the Mango Bread,” she said.

“So do I,” Pam agreed. “Hannah?”

“It’s very good.”

“Okay,” Pam said, reaching for her scorecard. “Mark your scorecards and then taste the Peach Bread.”

Again, the room was perfectly silent and this time it was Hannah who was the first to speak. “I like the combination of peaches and almonds. Did she use almond extract in place of the vanilla?”

Pam reached for the second recipe card and flipped it over. “Yes, she did. And I like it, too. Which bread do you like best?”

Lisa shrugged. “It’s like comparing apples and oranges.”

“Or mangos and peaches,” Hannah quipped. “They both have their strong points, but I think I like the Peach Bread best.”

“Mark your scorecards,” Pam said, and all three of them wrote down their scores. Pam collected them and handed the calculator to Lisa, who added the scores while Hannah read them aloud.

It didn’t take long with all three of them working and less than ten minutes later, they were through. Pam signed the final sheet and looked up to smile at them. “Want to guess which one came in first?”

“The Mango Bread?” Lisa guessed.

“No.”

“Then was it the Peach Bread?” Hannah asked.

“Not exactly.” Pam laughed at their puzzled expression. “It’s a dead heat. We have a tie for first place.”

“So we have to taste them again to see which contestant is the winner?” Lisa asked, obviously remembering the quick rundown Pam had given her on the rules.

Pam shook her head. “We already know which contestant is the winner.”

It took Hannah a second, but then she nodded. “The Mango Bread and the Peach Bread tied for first place.”

“Exactly right. And since both entries were baked by the same contestant, we don’t have to do a thing. Now…” Pam turned to look at the sideboard filled with loaves of quick bread. “Who wants to take what home?”

MANGO BREAD

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F., rack in the middle position.

¾ cup softened butter (1 ½ sticks)

1 package (8 ounces) softened cream cheese

(the brick kind, not the whipped kind)

2 cups white sugar (granulated)

2 beaten eggs (just whip them up in a glass with a fork)

½ teaspoon vanilla extract

1½ cups mashed mangoes (you can use fresh and peel and seed your own, or you can buy them already prepared in the ready-to-eat section at your produce counter)

3 cups flour (don’t sift—pack it down in the cup when you measure)

½ teaspoon baking powder

½ teaspoon baking soda

½ teaspoon salt

1 cup chopped walnuts or pecans (optional)

Hannah’s 1st Note: This is a lot easier with an electric mixer.

Beat the butter, cream cheese, and sugar together until they’re nice and fluffy. Add the beaten eggs and the vanilla, and mix them in.

Peel, seed, and slice the mangos (or drain them and pat them dry if you’ve used prepared mangoes). Mash them in a food processor with the steel blade, or puree them in a blender, or squash them with a potato masher until they’re pureed. Measure out 1½ cups of mashed mangoes and add it to your mixing bowl. Stir well.

In another bowl, measure out the flour, baking powder, baking soda and salt. Mix them together.

Gradually add the flour mixture to the mango mixture, beating at low speed until everything is incorporated.

Mix in the walnuts or pecans by hand.

Coat the insides of two loaf pans (the type you’d use for bread) with nonstick cooking spray. Spoon in the mango bread batter.

Bake at 350 degrees F. for approximately one hour, or until a long toothpick or skewer inserted in the center comes out clean. If the top browns a bit too fast, tent a piece of foil over the top of the loaves.

You can also bake this in 6 smaller loaf pans, filling them about half full. If you use the smaller pans, they’ll need to bake approximately 45 minutes.

Cool on a wire rack in the pan, loosen the edges after 20 minutes, and turn the loaf out onto the wire rack.

Yield: Makes two bread-sized loaves, or 6 small loaves.

Hannah’s 2nd Note: This bread is also good toasted. Lisa took it home from the contest and tried it the next morning for breakfast. She said she liked hers plain, but Herb wanted butter on his.

PEACH BREAD

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F., rack in the middle position.

¾ cup softened butter (1 ½ sticks)

1 package (8 ounces) softened cream cheese (the brick kind, not the whipped kind)

2 cups white sugar (granulated)

2 beaten eggs (just whip them up in a glass with a fork)

½ teaspoon almond extract

1½ cups mashed peaches [***]

3 cups flour (don’t sift—pack it down in the cup when you measure)

½ teaspoon baking powder

½ teaspoon baking soda

½ teaspoon salt

1 cup chopped blanched almonds

Hannah’s 1st Note: This is a lot easier with an electric mixer.

Beat the butter, cream cheese, and sugar together until they’re nice and fluffy. Add the beaten eggs and the almond extract, and mix them in.

Peel and slice the peaches (or drain them and pat them dry if you’ve used prepared peaches or canned peaches). Mash them in a food processor with the steel blade, or puree them in a blender, or squash them with a potato masher until they’re pureed. Measure out 1½ cups of mashed peaches and add it to your mixing bowl. Stir well.

In another bowl, measure out the flour, baking powder, baking soda and salt. Mix them together.

Gradually add the flour mixture to the peach mixture, beating at low speed until everything is incorporated.

Mix in the almonds by hand.

Coat the insides of two loaf pans (the type you’d use for bread) with nonstick cooking spray. Spoon in the peach bread batter.

Bake at 350 degrees F. for approximately one hour, or until a long toothpick or skewer inserted in the center comes out clean. If the top browns a bit too fast, tent a piece of foil over the top of the loaves.

You can also bake this in 6 smaller loaf pans, filling them about half full. If you use the smaller pans, they’ll need to bake approximately 45 minutes.

Cool on a wire rack in the pan, loosen the edges after 20 minutes, and turn the loaf out onto the wire rack.

Yield: Makes two bread-sized loaves, or 6 small loaves.

Hannah’s 2nd Note: This bread is also good toasted. Mother loves it toasted with honey butter on top.

Chapter Eighteen

By the time Hannah arrived home, all she could think about was climbing into bed and shutting her eyes. Unfortunately, she’d promised Herb and Lisa that she’d find an appropriate outfit for being a magician’s assistant, and she had less than twenty-four hours to do it. She seemed to remember that she’d once bought a midnight blue skirt with the constellations of the winter sky drawn in glitter. She’d planned to wear it to the astronomy club Christmas party because she was dating an astronomy major at the time, but they broke up a week before the party and she’d never worn the skirt. If she’d kept it, and she probably had, it would be with the other clothes that she no longer wore but were too good to throw away and were stored in the guest room closet.

Now would be the time to find it. Michelle wasn’t there, so she wouldn’t disturb her. She’d noticed that their mother’s car hadn’t been parked in the garage. Since Lonnie was working the case with Mike, Michelle had probably gone to see some of the girls she’d hung around with in high school.

Hannah unlocked her condo door and prepared to catch Moishe in her arms, but no furry medicine ball of a cat hurtled out to greet her. He was perched on the wide, carpeted ledge that attached to the living room windowsill. Michelle had picked up two at the pet store, one for the living room and one for the guest room, so that Moishe would be more comfortable.

“Hey, Moishe,” she said, walking over to give him a pat. “I see Norman turned on the television for you. You had fun at his house, didn’t you?”

“I think he did.”

Hannah whirled to see Norman coming in from her kitchen, carrying a cup of coffee. “He acted really disappointed when I tried to leave, so I decided to stay until you got home. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Of course not.”

“How about a fresh cup of coffee? I made some.”

“That sounds good. I’ve got some date bread from the contest.”

Hannah turned back to her cat to give him a scratch under the chin. Moishe responded with what Hannah interpreted as a kitty smile with slightly open mouth and narrowed eyes, and then he licked her hand once, rather perfunctorily in her opinion, before he swiveled his head to look out the window again.

“I don’t know what’s so fascinating about Clara and Marguerite’s living room window, but you go right ahead and enjoy. I’m going to have coffee with Norman, and then I have to look for something to wear in the magic cabinet tomorrow.”

Once Hannah and Norman had finished their coffee and date bread, he got up to leave. But he stopped at the door and turned back to her. “Did I hear you say something about going through your guest room closet?”

“Yes. I’m looking for something to wear for the amateur magician contest.”

“You do magic?”

“The only magic I do is make food disappear. I’m just helping Herb with his show.”

Norman chuckled. “Seems to me the last time you looked in that closet, somebody was trapped in there because the pole came loose.”

“That’s right.”

“Did you get a new pole?”

Hannah shook her head. “I just moved some things around so the weight was more evenly distributed.”

“And now you’re going to move things around again?”

Hannah gave a little nod. Norman was right. “Yes, I guess I am.”

“Then you’d better let me help you. I don’t want you to be trapped in that closet until Michelle comes home.”

“Maybe I should just buy something,” Hannah said, her voice muffled by a coat she hadn’t worn since high school. “It’s just that I know it’s here somewhere, and now I don’t want to give up without finding it.”

“I understand.” Norman stood just outside the closet, his arms piled high with formal dresses.

“But it’s a lot of trouble for you.”

“That’s okay. I don’t mind.”

“Okay, if you say so. I’ve been promising myself I’d go through all this stuff anyway. I just tossed it in here right after I moved in, and I haven’t looked at it since. The dresses you’re holding are going to go to charity. Who knows? Somebody might actually want them.”

With that prediction, Hannah emerged from the recesses of the closet. Her face was flushed and her hair was a mass of disorderly red curls made even more unmanageable.

“Your hair,” Norman said, chuckling.

Hannah reached up and attempted to pat it down, but she could tell that nothing short of a shampoo followed by gobs of conditioner would do it. “I guess I had too many clothes encounters,” she quipped.

“Don’t say things like that when my arms are full,” Norman warned her.

“Hold on a second.” Hannah reached back in the closet and plucked out another dress to add to his pile. It was a satin dress in a shade of pink that someone with her hair color should avoid at all costs. “Another one for the Helping Hands Thrift Shop.”

“Very fancy,” Norman said, glancing down at the dresses in his arms. There was a purple taffeta, a Kelly green silk, a white dotted Swiss with a full lavender lining to match its dots, a turquoise voile, and a bright yellow chiffon. “You must have gone to a lot of dances.”

“Weddings,” Hannah told him, not repeating the old adage her mother spouted every time Hannah was included in a bridal party, even though Always a bridesmaid, never a bride seemed to apply to her unmarried state. She’d worn close to a dozen bridesmaid gowns that had been expressly designed to make the bride look lovely in comparison.

“And you don’t think you’ll wear any of these again?” Norman asked, referring to the colorful pile he was holding.

“Over my dead body,” Hannah said, giving double meaning to the old cliché. She ducked back into the closet, rummaged around for a few moments, and gave a victory yell. “I found it!”

“The skirt?” Norman asked, shifting the dresses in his arms so that the orange satin flower wasn’t tickling the side of his neck.

“No, my red mitten. It’s been missing since the day I moved in. I’m afraid the skirt’s a lost cause. I must have given it to someone. Just toss those dresses on the bed and grab Moishe, will you?”

Norman did as she asked, capturing the orange-and-white tomcat before he could attempt the jump he was contemplating, from the floor to the upper shelf of the closet.

“Rowwww!” Moishe complained, eyeing him balefully and purring at the same time.

Norman held him in one arm and closed the closet with the other. “I know you’re disappointed, but there wasn’t anything on that shelf you’d want. Mackerel don’t swim in closets.”

“He must have been after the dust mice,” Hannah joked, and she was pleased when Norman laughed. “I wonder when Michelle will be…” Her question was interrupted by a knock at the door, and she hurried to answer it. “That must be Michelle now. I hope she didn’t lose her key.”

But it wasn’t Michelle. It was Andrea, and she looked very worried.

“Hi, Andrea,” Hannah said, holding the door open. “Come in. Do you want coffee?”

“No, I came after you. I figure it’s going to take both of us because she has three brothers.”

It took more than a couple of minutes to explain things, but once they were on the road, they didn’t waste time. Hannah drove, Norman sat in the passenger seat at Andrea’s insistence, and Andrea got in the back.

“I’m really glad we’re going to get her,” Andrea said, leaning forward so they could hear her. They’d decided to take Hannah’s cookie truck. It was almost a decade older than Norman’s sedan or Andrea’s Volvo, and less desirable to car thieves. The parking lot at the Eagle, the dive that most of its patrons called the Illegal, was known for its high incidence of stolen vehicles. The rundown bar, twelve miles from the Winnetka county line, was also famous for bar-room brawls, resulting in the use of plastic beer mugs and glasses and lighting so dim the owner could claim that he’d misread the birth date on a minor’s driver’s license.

“Have you ever been to the Eagle before?” Norman asked.

Hannah shook her head. “Not me.”

“Mother would have locked us in our bedrooms for the rest of our lives if we’d ever even planned to go,” Andrea explained. “The Eagle’s got a really bad reputation. Bill says it’s a real dump and a hangout for convicts and preconvicts.”

“What did Bill say when you told him that Michelle was at the Eagle?” Norman asked.

“I didn’t tell him.”

Hannah gave a little chuckle. “And I bet you didn’t tell him that we were going out to get her, either.”

“Of course I didn’t. If I had, he would have made me promise not to go. And since I don’t ever want to break a promise to my husband, I didn’t tell him.”

“There’s a certain logic to that,” Norman mused.

“I know. I learned it from Hannah.”

“You did?” Hannah was surprised.

“Yes, you do it with Mother all the time. I call it Don’t go there. If you don’t mention it to them, they won’t think to ask.”

“Is Don’t go there a Swensen sister trait?” Norman asked Hannah.

“Probably. I haven’t noticed Michelle doing it yet, but if she hangs around with us long enough, she’ll probably pick up on it.”

They were silent for a moment as Hannah navigated the washboard road. The windows in the cookie truck were rolled down to let in the slightly cooler night air, and so far they were outrunning the mosquitoes. Every once in a while one would get lucky and dive-bomb through the window when Hannah slowed for a particularly deep rut, but both Andrea and Hannah were Minnesota born and bred, and they had learned the ability to accurately judge their location by the sound and swat mosquitoes on the fly.

“What did Bill say about Tasha’s brothers?” Norman asked.

“He didn’t. I asked Grandma McCann after I put the kids to bed, and she told me how bad they were. Except she didn’t say bad. You know how nice Grandma McCann is. She never says anything negative about anybody.”

Hannah knew Andrea’s live-in nanny was the sweetest soul on the face of the earth. “If she didn’t say bad, how do you know Tasha’s brothers are bad?”

“She used the word unfortunate. And misguided. And to make it even worse, she said they got it from their father!”

“Then they must be awful, all right.” Hannah hugged the side of the road as a motorcycle came roaring toward them. The driver was wearing leathers, and he looked like he might have been a member of a motorcycle gang several decades ago. His passenger, a hard-looking woman well past her prime with overdone makeup and hair many shades removed from her natural color, gave them one less finger than the peace sign and laughed shrilly as they sped by.

“Delightful,” Hannah said. “If the rest of the clientele look like that, Michelle’s going to stick out like a sore thumb. Are you one hundred percent positive she’s out here?”

“I’m positive. Lucy Dunwright’s husband comes right past here on his way home, and he said he saw Mother’s car parked right under the light in their parking lot. And then Lucy called me to ask me what Mother was doing in a dive like the Eagle.”

“And you’re sure she’s talking about the Hicks brothers?”

“I’m sure. I saw her right after the contest tonight, and she said to tell you that Tasha’s last name was Hicks. And then she said she was going to try to talk to Tasha’s brothers to see where they were on the night Willa was murdered.”

“You must be right,” Hannah said as she turned into the parking lot and pulled up right next to her mother’s car. She looked up at the neon sign that buzzed and blinked on and off in an irregular pattern, and gave a long sigh.

“Look at that,” Norman said, getting out of the truck and pointing at the sign. “They spelled Eagle wrong!”

“You’re right,” Andrea said, looking up at the sign. “They left out the A.”

Hannah gave a little laugh as she double-checked to make sure her truck was locked up tight. “With the exception of Michelle, I’ll bet there’s not one single person inside who knows that it’s spelled incorrectly.”

Chapter Nineteen

Norman opened the door, and the noise and music, Hannah wasn’t sure which was which, blared out to assault their eardrums. The racket was accompanied by a smell Hannah wasn’t sure she wanted to analyze but that probably had something to do with spilled beer, the heat of a Minnesota summer, and perfume that didn’t put more than a dent in a five-dollar bill. All it took was one look at the rickety tables and the unswept floor, and Hannah knew it wasn’t the sort of place where someone hurried over to greet you and led you to a table.

“Come on,” Andrea said, motioning to Hannah and Norman since they couldn’t hear her over the din, and pushing through the crowd to an empty table.

Once they were seated on wooden chairs that were sticky with multiple coats of varnish, Hannah turned to her sister.

“Where did you learn how to do that?”

“Do what?”

“See an empty table, push through a huge crowd, and get it before someone else does.”

“Shopping.”

“Shopping?”

“That’s right. I always go to the mall for their giant Labor Day Weekend sale. The stores are wall-to-wall people, and if you spot something you want, you have to push everybody else out of the way to get to it first.”

Hannah made a mental note never to come within five miles of the Tri-County Mall on Labor Day weekend, and turned to Norman. But Norman wasn’t there. “Where’s Norman?”

“I don’t know. He was right here a second ago. Maybe he went to the little boys’ room.”

“Do you see Michelle?”

“Not yet, but it’ll be easier to look for her when they stop dancing.”

“Dancing?”

“Over there.” Andrea pointed to a heavily populated area where couples were shuffling around and embracing. The space was no bigger than the area rug that covered the center of the hardwood floor in their mother’s living room.

“That’s the dance floor?”

“I hope so. Either that, or…uh-oh!”

“Uh-oh what?”

“There’s Michelle.”

“Where?”

“On the dance floor. See the guy that looks like Clark Gable on steroids? He’s got the mustache and everything.”

Hannah squinted through the haze of blue smoke that clouded the place. Someone was grilling hamburgers behind the bar without adequate ventilation, but nobody seemed to mind.

“I see him. But I don’t see Michelle.”

“She’s just to the left of him, dancing with the guy that’s trying to look like Elvis. She’s wearing…” Andrea stopped and groaned slightly. “Where did she get that outfit?”

“What outfit? I don’t see her.”

“She’s wearing skintight jeans and a sleeveless shirt that’s tied halfway up her chest. And I’m pretty sure she’s not wearing anything under it, if you get what I mean.”

Hannah took a deep breath and asked the question foremost in her mind. “Is she…decent?”

“Yes, barely. But I’ve seen worse. And now somebody’s cutting in, and it’s…” Andrea stopped speaking and gasped. And that was the moment that Hannah finally spotted her youngest sister.

“It’s Norman!” Hannah gulped. “Norman’s cutting in.”

“I know. And the guy who looks like Elvis isn’t happy.”

“Uh-oh!”

“Uh-oh is right. I can’t look.” Andrea gave a little moan and held her hands over her eyes. “I like Norman, and I don’t want to see him get trashed.”

“Hold on.” Hannah could barely believe her own eyes. “It’s okay, Andrea. Norman’s not getting trashed.”

“He’s not?”

“No. The Elvis not-so-look-alike just gave him a pat on the back, and now he’s making a quick retreat.”

Andrea took a look, and then she turned to Hannah in absolute amazement. “But…why did Elvis back off?”

“I don’t know. Whatever Norman said to him worked. And now Norman’s got Michelle’s arm and he’s bringing her over here to us.”

It took a couple of minutes for Norman and Michelle to get to their table. The crowd was milling around, and there were raucous shouts as the lights flickered.

“Here she is,” Norman said when they arrived at the table. “Mission accomplished, so let’s get out of here.”

“Great idea!” Hannah agreed, standing up and grabbing her purse. “Let’s go.”

Andrea followed in their wake and they made their way to the door. Their progress was slow. There were simply too many people crowded into the place. It reminded Hannah of the time she’d watched two dozen guys from a fraternity try to get into a Volkswagen Bug.

The lights flickered several times on the way, and despite telling herself that the same thing couldn’t happen twice, Hannah was reminded of the way the lights had flickered last night when she’d found Willa. “I wonder why the lights are flickering,” she said, not really expecting an answer.

“I don’t know,” Norman responded, glancing at his watch. “It’s not time for last call. They’ve got an hour and fifteen minutes before they have to close.”

“Before they have to close legally,” Hannah reminded him.

“Right,” Andrea chimed in. “This is the sort of place that turns off all the lights, calls itself a private club, and stays open for anyone who’s already inside until they stop buying drinks and leave by the back way.”

“How do you know about things like that?” Michelle asked, looking slightly shocked.

“She’s married to the sheriff,” Hannah answered what could have been an embarrassing question for her sister. “Andrea knows all the inside stuff.”

“Right.” Andrea shot her a grateful glance.

“Well, I know why the lights flickered,” Michelle said. “Elvis told me.”

Hannah laughed. “You nicknamed him the same thing we did.”

“No, I didn’t. His name really is Elvis. He said his mother was crazy about The King and she wanted to pay tribute.”

“What some mothers won’t do to their kids!” Andrea said, giving an exasperated sigh. “He might have turned out all right if his mother hadn’t practically dictated his personality by naming him after a famous person.”

“I doubt it. I think he’d be a jerk no matter what.” Michelle turned to Hannah again. “Do you want to know why the lights flickered?”

“Yes. There they go again. Why?”

“They’re having a drawing for a pony.”

“You mean…a little horse?” Andrea asked.

“No, a pony of beer. It’s a half-keg.”

Hannah started to frown. “How do you know that?”

“Everybody in college knows that. It’s what you buy when you’re having a party because it’s cheaper than bottles or cans. You have to pay a deposit, but they refund it when you bring the pony keg back.”

“I hope you’re not ignoring the law. You can’t buy liquor if you’re underage.”

“I know that. It’s why I was drinking ginger ale tonight. It looks like a mixed drink, so I fit right in.”

“We made it,” Norman said, opening the door and shepherding them all out to the parking lot and over to the two vehicles they’d driven. “Do you want me to ride with you, Michelle? Or are you okay to drive home by yourself?”

“I’m fine. I was drinking ginger ale, remember? I’ll see you at the condo, then.”

“Not so fast,” Andrea said, grabbing her sister’s arm. “I want to know where you got that outfit. You look like…well…I’m not going to say what you look like in polite company.”

“These are jeans that shrunk in the washer. And I ruined a perfectly good shirt by ripping off the sleeves in the car before I went inside.”

“Why did you do that?” Hannah asked.

“I watched the girls that came out and I knew I’d never fit in if I didn’t have that biker chick look. There wasn’t time to go back and change, so I improvised.”

“You should have taken one look at those girls and gone home,” Andrea said, frowning.

“But I knew Hannah was investigating, and I wanted to do my part. Once I knew Tasha’s last name and I found out where her brothers hung out, I just had to go there.”

“I appreciate that,” Hannah said, “but you could have been killed! Or worse!”

Michelle looked puzzled. “What’s worse than being killed?”

“I don’t know, but I’m willing to bet that something is. That’s not important right now. What’s important is that you don’t take foolish risks that compromise your safety.”

“You mean like the times you confronted killers alone without a weapon?”

“Exactly. But I’m older than you are, and you have your whole life ahead of you.”

“What does being older have to do with it?”

“Never mind that.” Hannah knew her logic was falling apart, and she thought fast. “The whole point is, I’m your older sister and you’re obligated to listen to me. And I’m telling you not to take foolish chances. I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you.”

Michelle looked properly chastised. “You’re right. But I really wasn’t taking chances. I had my cell phone programmed for a one-button call to the sheriff’s department, just in case.”

“Okay,” Hannah said, willing to let the subject drop for the moment. “Let’s get out of here before something bad happens. And I’ve got the feeling that something bad happens here every ten minutes or so.”

“Give,” Hannah said, putting on the most determined expression she could muster. “Michelle doesn’t know what you said to Tasha’s brother, because she couldn’t hear you over the music. Tell us what made him back off like that.”

Norman reached for another Spicy Dream and dunked it into his fresh cup of coffee. Andrea had found the cookies in the back of Hannah’s truck on the way home, and only threats of imminent death had kept her from eating them all by herself. “These are really good, Hannah.”

“I know. Lindy finally got around to sending me the recipe.”

“Lindy Frank?” Andrea asked, taking another cookie for herself.

“Yes. She made them for the Fourth of July picnic two years ago. She was going to give me the recipe then, but her husband got transferred, and in all the excitement of moving and everything, she forgot.”

“They really are good, especially with coffee,” Norman said.

“And you’re really good at changing the subject,” Hannah shot back. “Tell us what you said to that Hicks brother.”

“It’s really not that important.”

“Yes, it is. I may die of curiosity if you don’t tell me, and so will Andrea and Michelle.”

“Right,” Andrea confirmed.

“Absolutely,” Michelle agreed. “Right before you came up and tapped him on the shoulder, he was trying to get me to come out to the parking lot with him so he could show me his truck.”

Andrea’s mouth dropped open. “You didn’t believe that tired old line, did you?”

“Of course not. I wasn’t born yesterday. I figured it wasn’t going to be easy to get rid of him, but Norman just said a couple of words to him and he backed right off.”

“It was nothing.” Norman gave a little shrug, but his eyes were crinkling at the corners and Hannah could tell he was enjoying himself.

“Give,” Hannah repeated, grabbing the plate with the cookies and pulling them over to her side of the table. “No more Spicy Dreams for you if you don’t tell us what you said.”

“Okay,” Norman agreed, capitulating with good grace. “All I said was, Hey, buddy. There’s a sheriff’s deputy over there, and I think he’s looking for you or one of your brothers. He said something about a warrant, so I figured I should tell you. And I didn’t say any more than that because by then he was leaving. Really fast.”

“But…” Andrea looked confused. “There aren’t any warrants outstanding against the Hicks brothers, are there?”

Norman shrugged. “I don’t know, but I figured it was like that old saying my grandmother used. It was, Lecture your children every day. You may not know what they did wrong, but they do!”

Hannah laughed, although she was sure that Norman wouldn’t lecture his children the way his grandmother had advised. All the same, it had worked with the Hicks brothers and gotten them out of the Eagle without any trouble, and that was something.

“Thank you, Norman!” Michelle sounded very grateful. “I don’t think I was in over my head, but that’s the trouble about being in over your head. You never think you are. That place was horrible. I’m really glad that all of you came to get me.”

“You’re our little sister. Of course we came out to get you,” Andrea said, giving Michelle a little hug.

“That’s right,” Hannah told her. “But don’t be running off on your own again without telling someone where you’re going.”

“I promise I won’t. But I found out where the Hicks brothers were last night.”

“Where?” all three of them asked, almost in unison.

“At the Golden Wheel Speedway. One of their friends was in a demolition derby and they went to watch him. And on their way home, they were stopped by the highway patrol for speeding.” Michelle turned to Andrea. “Bill can check out that alibi, can’t he?”

“You bet he can.”

“And when he confirms it, I can cross three suspects off our list,” Hannah said, smiling at her sister. “Good work, Michelle. And now you’d better get some sleep. You’ve got a full day tomorrow.”

When Michelle had left for the guest bedroom, Andrea stood up. She said her goodbyes and got ready to head down to the garage.

“Hold on, and I’ll go with you,” Norman said, giving Hannah a quick kiss and walking to the door with Andrea. “I know this complex is safe, but it’s almost one in the morning and you shouldn’t be walking anywhere alone.”

Hannah saw them to the door, closed and double-locked it behind them, and settled back down on the couch to flick through the cable channels. Moishe came to sit beside her, but after a few pats, he jumped up to the carpeted ledge by the window again.

The Food Channel was doing something with ramps, and since Hannah had no idea what they were, she watched. It turned out that ramps were simply wild leeks that grew in the southern United States. They’d been around for years, but the Food Channel had made them a desirable item that a lot of grocery stores were now carrying. It was almost the same as Chilean sea bass. In the nineteen-seventies, it was called the Patagonian tooth fish and nobody wanted it. It was sold mainly for fish sticks. Then a marketing firm was hired to promote the tooth fish, and they gave it another name, Chilean sea bass. Hannah had tasted it out at the Lake Eden Inn, and it was delicious. It was also expensive because its sudden popularity caused it to become overfished, and it was heading for the rare fish section of the ichthyic phylum.

Once the scalloped potatoes made with ramps had been served on a gorgeous platter that would have cost Hannah a day’s receipts at The Cookie Jar, she switched off the television and got up. She was about to head for the bedroom when the doorbell rang.

Andrea, who’d forgotten something? Norman? He might have come back for some reason? Or Willa’s killer, who’d found out she was sleuthing and had ferreted out her address and come here to kill her?

Hannah walked to the door and looked through the peephole. As usual, she couldn’t see her caller’s face, but she did recognize the insignia over the breast pocket of the Winnetka County Sheriff’s Department windbreaker. Mike, or Bill, or Lonnie. Unless they were here to cite her for some silly health board infraction, she was safe.

“Hi, Hannah,” Mike greeted her when she pulled open the door. “I didn’t want to wake you, but your lights were still on so I knew you weren’t in bed.”

“Right. Come in, Mike. There’s coffee left in the pot if you want some.”

“No, I’m on my way home. And I’m hoping that I can get some sleep tonight. I just stopped in to tell you that the cookies were delicious, and I hope you’re not still mad at me for calling Miss Sunquist the victim.”

“I’m not. I know you have to depersonalize things.” Hannah repeated what she’d overheard him say at the sheriff’s station. “It’s okay, Mike. Really.”

“Good. My world’s not right when you’re mad at me.”

And with that said, Mike pulled her into his arms and kissed her so hard, it almost bruised her lips. And then he gave her another hug and a much gentler kiss. With a wave, he let himself out the door and was gone before Hannah could do more than gasp for breath.

When she recovered enough to move, Hannah double-locked the door. Less than twenty-four hours ago, she’d written Mike off, banished him from that special corner of her heart, and decided that Norman was the man for her. And then she’d overheard Mike talking to Lonnie, and she understood why he’d appeared to be so uncaring about Willa. And now he’d come to apologize again, something she never thought he’d do, and he said his world wasn’t right without her. That put him right back in the running, tied for prospective fiancé with Norman again.

It was impossible for her to go to bed now, not when Mike had left her this unsettled. Hannah sat back down on the couch and patted the spot beside her, hoping that Moishe would leave his perch and come to sit on the couch with her.

For once, her cat came immediately. He settled down in her lap, gave her hand a lick, and began to purr contentedly. Hannah smiled as she stroked his soft fur and scratched him behind his ears. Moishe was her only constant, the one male in her life that she could rely on to give her unconditional…

“Ouch!” Hannah gasped as her normally accommodating pet let out a tigerlike growl, dug his claws in, and leapt from her lap. Another leap and he was on the carpeted ledge that Michelle had bought for him, staring out the window into the darkness.

“Whatever got into you?” Hannah asked, not expecting an answer. And then she massaged both thighs where eight separate claws had punctured her jeans. It was clear that Moishe was on his own mission, staring out the window at something she couldn’t see but that totally fascinated him.

“Maybe it’s the nature of the beast,” Hannah muttered, heading off to her bedroom. “Just when you think you’ve got the male of the species all figured out, they go and change the rules on you.”

SPICY DREAMS

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F., rack in the middle position.

Hannah’s 1st Note: This recipe is from Lindy Frank and I’m glad she finally sent it to me. Her cookies disappear faster than a Popsicle on a hot day. Lindy calls these cookies “Ginger Cookies,” but since we already serve a cookie by that name down at The Cookie Jar, we’ve renamed these “Spicy Dreams.”

Hannah’s 2nd Note: Lindy says to tell you that she makes these cookies festive by using colored sugar for holidays, i.e., pink for Valentine’s Day, orange for Halloween, green for St. Pat’s Day, etc.

1 cup soft butter (2 sticks, 8 ounces, ½

1 lb, 6 oz white granulated sugar (2 2/3 cups)

3 eggs

1 cup molasses

2 Tablespoons vinegar (white will do just fine)

2 Tablespoons baking soda

4 teaspoons ground ginger

1 teaspoon ground cinnamon

1 teaspoon ground cloves

1 teaspoon ground cardamom

1 lb, 12 oz all purpose flour (6 cups—not sifted)

½ cup powdered (confectioner’s) sugar, for rolling[***]

Mix the butter and the sugar together and beat them with a mixer or a spoon until they look nice and fluffy. (That’s what the phrase “cream the butter and sugar” means if you see it in another recipe.)

Add the eggs one at a time, mixing thoroughly after each addition.

Mix in the molasses and the vinegar. (I always spray the inside of my measuring cup with Pam or another nonstick cooking spray before I pour in the molasses. Then it glops right out without sticking to the sides.)

Lindy sifts the flour, baking soda, ginger, cinnamon, cloves, and cardamom together before she mixes them in with the wet ingredients. (She also weighs the flour and the sugar the way a true pastry chef would do.) That means she’s probably a better baker than I am, because I don’t do any of that. I just mix in the baking soda first, and then the spices. I stir everything up thoroughly, and then I add the flour in one-cup increments, stirring after each cup is added.

Use your hands to roll the dough into walnut-sized balls. If the dough is too sticky, put it in the refrigerator a half-hour or so—that’ll make it easier to roll.

Put the powdered sugar in a small bowl and roll the balls in it. Place them on a greased cookie sheet (I used Pam), 12 cookie balls to a standard-size sheet. Press them down just a bit when you place them on the sheet so they won’t roll off when you carry them to the oven. You don’t have to flatten them. They’ll spread out all by themselves while they bake.

Bake the cookies at 350 degrees F., for 10 to 12 minutes. (Mine took only 10 minutes.)

Let the cookies cool for a minute or two on the cookie sheet and then move them to a wire rack to finish cooling.

Yield: Approximately 10 dozen, depending on cookie size.

Chapter Twenty

“More coffee to get us thinking straight?” Lisa asked, bringing the carafe to the back table and pouring them all another cup. They were having a strategy meeting at The Cookie Jar, and they had less than an hour before the first customers would arrive. Hannah had called the meeting so that they could go over the suspect list.

Norman had called in to cancel. He was whitening Bertie Straub’s teeth before her first appointment at the Cut ’n Curl. It was an old-fashioned barter. Norman whitened Bertie’s teeth, and Bertie gave Carrie a special treatment guaranteed to give her hair a glorious sheen.

“Thanks, Lisa. I can use this.” Andrea took a sip of her coffee and smiled. “I’m not used to getting up this early. And I didn’t get to bed until almost two. I don’t have bags under my eyes, do I?”

Michelle leaned over to take a look. “No bags.”

“Let me see,” Hannah said, looking deeply into her sister’s eyes. “Michelle’s right. No bags. Your eyes are a funny shade of red, but other than that…”

Andrea let out a shriek that would have raised the dead and jumped up. “Call Jon at home. He’s just got to open early so I can get some eye drops. Tracey and I have to be on stage at two for the mother-daughter judging, and we’re not going to win if I’ve got a case of redeye!”

“Relax.” Hannah pulled her sister back down. “Your eyes are fine. I was just kidding.”

“Don’t do that. It’s mean!” Andrea said petulantly. But then she started to laugh. “The last time I said that, I hit you with a pillow.”

“I remember. It broke open and the feathers flew all over.”

“And we had to clean it up and try to sew it back together before Mother got home from the grocery store.”

“Did you make it?” Michelle asked.

“No,” Hannah answered. “Andrea didn’t know how to sew yet, and I was terrible at it. We ended up dumping all the feathers in a garbage bag and tying it shut. We put that in the pillowcase, and I had to sleep on a pillow that crinkled every time I moved my head.”

Lisa looked a little wistful. “My sisters were all grown up by the time I was born. Two of them were married, and the other one had her own apartment and a job in Minneapolis. It must have been wonderful growing up with sisters.”

Hannah turned to Andrea. “Did you ever notice how people who didn’t grow up with sisters are the ones who think it would have been wonderful?”

“Right. And those who did grow up with sisters don’t say anything at all?”

“Well, nobody has better sisters than I do. Last night proves that.” Michelle turned to Andrea. “Did Bill check out those alibis?”

“First thing this morning. The highway patrol officer who stopped them remembers Elvis. He said he’d never seen a pickup with pictures of naked women painted on the bottom of the truck bed before.”

Michelle made a face. “What a creep! And he wanted to show me his truck! But at least we know they’re not murderers.”

“Right.” Hannah opened her steno notebook, the type she habitually carried in her large leather shoulder bag, and flipped to the suspect list. “Tasha’s brothers. I guess I can fill in the names now, just so I can cross it out.”

“It pays to be thorough,” Michelle said. “Something might happen to make the Hicks brothers suspects again.”

“They were thirty miles away from the scene at the time of Willa’s murder,” Andrea reminded her. “What could possibly make them suspects again?”

“I don’t know, but there could be something.”

They were getting nowhere fast, and Hannah knew it. It was time to take charge of the meeting. “Listen up,” she said, glancing at the three women around the table. “Let’s go over the motives and see if we can think of any more suspects.”

“Good idea,” Lisa said, giving Hannah a glance that said she understood. “Why don’t you read us the motives?”

“Motive number one.” Hannah didn’t waste any time jumping in. “Willa’s murder and the burglary are connected. Either Willa was a witness to the burglary, or she found out who did it. And she was killed before she could notify the authorities.”

“So if we find the burglar, we find Willa’s killer?” Lisa asked.

“If the motive is the correct one, we do.”

Michelle looked thoughtful. “Then we’re running two investigations. Willa’s murder and the burglary.”

“Right. And we haven’t even started working on the burglary yet. Are you ready for motive two?”

Everyone nodded and Hannah went on. “Motive two. There’s no sense reading this one. We’ve already eliminated it.”

“Read it anyway,” Andrea suggested. “It might make us think of something else.”

“Okay. Willa disqualified Tasha Hicks from the beauty pageant. And Tasha comes from a family known for violent retribution. We eliminated her brothers, but…” Hannah turned to Michelle. “Didn’t you say her father entered her in the contest?”

“That’s what she told me.”

“Can you find out more about their father from Grandma McCann?” Hannah asked Andrea.

“I can try, but it’ll be like pulling teeth. She’s the one person in Lake Eden who doesn’t gossip.”

“I can do it,” Lisa spoke up. “Marge knows everyone around here. And if she doesn’t know the Hicks family personally, she’ll know someone who does.”

Hannah turned back to her notebook again. “Okay. Lisa’s going to take care of that one. Let’s go on to motive number three. It’s something I found out from serving on the judging panel with Willa.”

“Go on,” Andrea said, leaning closer.

“Pam Baxter flunked a male home ec student on Willa’s recommendation. Let’s find out who he was and whether he’s the type to take revenge.”

“That one’s mine,” Michelle said. “Some of my friends have younger brothers and sisters that are still in school. I’ll ask around.”

“‘Good.” Hannah made another note in her book. “Motive four. Willa gave Mrs. Adamczak’s cinnamon bread a low grade, and now she can’t win the baking sweepstakes again this year.”

Andrea’s mouth dropped open. “You think Mrs. Adamczak killed Willa?”

“Not really, but it’s a motive. And we won’t be doing our job if we don’t check it out.”

“Okay.” Andrea looked dubious, but she nodded. “I’ll see what I can find out from Mrs. Adamczak. I have to drop off some real estate flyers on her street anyway. What’s next?”

“I don’t really have a motive for the next one, but I do have a suspect. Unfortunately, we don’t know who he is. It’s Willa’s boyfriend.”

“What boyfriend?” Lisa wanted to know.

“The one she got all dressed up for,” Andrea explained. “That dress she was wearing was expensive, and so was her new hairdo.”

Hannah nodded. “Pam asked Willa whether there was a man involved and Willa said, Isn’t there always? And then, when I walked out of the building with her after the judging, she told me she was meeting someone.”

“That means we need to find out more about her personal life,” Andrea said.

“Maybe you should go over and search her apartment,” Lisa suggested. “I can hold down the fort here, if you want to do it now.”

“Good idea,” Andrea said. “I’m sure Mike and Lonnie have already done it, but they could have missed something. I’ll call Pam right now and set it up.”

While they waited for Andrea to complete her call, Lisa refilled coffee mugs. Hannah replenished the cookie platter, and they were all ready to continue when Andrea came back.

“She’ll be home all morning,” Andrea reported. “We can go over there right after we finish our meeting.”

Hannah glanced down at her notes again. “That’s it, at least for now. I couldn’t think of any other motives, except for the common one, of course.”

“What common one?” Michelle wanted to know.

“Willa was killed by some unknown person for some unknown reason.”

“That should be simple to check out,” Lisa said, and they all shared a laugh.

“There’s one more thing…” Hannah frowned slightly. “Maybe it doesn’t have anything to do with her murder, but I think Willa had a secret.”

At the word secret, all three women leaned closer.

“What secret?” Andrea asked.

“It wouldn’t be a secret if I knew it,” Hannah said. And after she’d gotten the groans she expected, she went on. “When we were judging the baked goods, Willa talked about a couple of things did that didn’t fit with her personality…at least as I knew it. And Pam, who certainly knew Willa better than I did after a whole year of working with her, seemed totally surprised, too.”

“Can you give us an example?” Michelle asked.

“Yes. Willa said something about picking cherries. She seemed to know all about it, and Pam asked her why. Willa said she worked in a cherry orchard for a while in Washington State.”

Andrea shrugged. “Okay. I guess it could have been a summer job or something like that.”

“That’s true. But then she said something about working as a waitress down in Florida and how she’d served key lime pie. And she also said something about California.”

“So she must have traveled,” Lisa came to the obvious conclusion. “Maybe her family moved a lot when she was in high school.”

Michelle shook her head. “I don’t think so. One of the contestants was all upset because her parents were selling their house and moving to a condo when she went off college. Miss Sunquist told her to take lots of pictures and that would keep the memories alive. She said she knew how hard it was to lose the house where you grew up, because she had to sell her family home a couple of years ago when her parents died, and it was really hard to leave it.”

“So she must have traveled after high school.” Andrea was clearly not ready to give up her theory. “Maybe she took the money she got from selling her parents’ house and used it to see America, or something like that.”

Lisa looked puzzled. “But it sounds like she worked her way across the country. Why would she do that if she had all the money from selling her family home?”

“Maybe there were outstanding bills,” Andrea suggested. “She might have cleared only a few thousand or so, especially if her parents had medical problems and they needed special care.”

“But if they were old enough, they’d be on Medicare,” Lisa pointed out.

“There are things that Medicare doesn’t cover. And maybe her parents weren’t old enough to be on Medicare.”

“Enough speculation.” Hannah held up her hand and everyone turned to her. “Here’s what we have to do. Andrea and I will go through Willa’s apartment to see if we can find out something about her background. There may be photos that could give us a clue, or papers of some kind. We’ll also see if Pam has any background information on her. I’m sure the college forwarded something when Pam agreed to be Willa’s supervising teacher.”

“While you’re gone, I’ll call Marge about Tasha’s father,” Lisa offered.

“Good. We’ll get that ball rolling.”

“If we can find out Willa’s address when she was in high school, I’ll go through the sales records and see how much the house sold for,” Andrea told them. “And I can also check to see if there were any liens against the property.”

“Good. Don’t forget Mrs. Adamczak,” Hannah reminded her.

“I won’t. I’ll go see her right after we get back from searching the apartment. What kind of ribbon did she win again?”

“White. That’s just an honorable mention. It’s bound to be a letdown for her.”

“Would she know it was Willa’s fault that she didn’t win?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t say anything, and I don’t think Pam did either, but Pam hands in our scorecards to other people. It’s possible that Mrs. Adamczak knows Willa was the one who kept her from being in the finals.”

“Okay. I’ll find out how mad she is that she didn’t win.”

“I still have a couple of hours before I have to drive out to the fairgrounds,” Michelle said. “Is there anything else I can do?”

“Yes.”

“What is it?”

“You can deliver the cookies to the Cookie Nook booth when you go out to the fairgrounds. And if you go early, you can help me with something else.”

“I’ll go early.”

“Great. Do you know where you can get a picture of Willa?”

“Sure. There’s one in the front of the program. We all have our pictures in there.”

“Take a program with you, and stop by the 4-H building. There were some kids wearing 4-H shirts standing around when I said goodbye to Willa on Tuesday night. It’s a long shot, but maybe one of them noticed where she went or who she met.”

“Any idea which kids were there?”

“Not really. It was getting dark and I didn’t notice. Just make the rounds with the photo and see what you can come up with.”

“I will.”

“How about me?” Lisa asked. “All I’m doing for you is asking Marge about Tasha’s father. Can’t I do anything else?”

Hannah laughed and held up her fingers as an aid in counting. “Let’s see…you came in early to start the baking this morning, you’re finding out about Mr. Hicks, you’re running The Cookie Jar while Andrea and I go off to search Willa’s apartment, you made some great suggestions at our meeting…isn’t that enough?”

“Not in return for all you’re doing for me!”

Hannah was puzzled. “What am I doing for you?”

“You’re saving me from a giant panic attack by taking my place as Herb’s assistant.”

Hannah groaned. She’d forgotten all about her costume, and time was definitely running short.

“Uh-oh!” Lisa said, looking worried. “You are going to be Herb’s assistant, aren’t you?”

“Of course I am. Absolutely. It’s just that I haven’t found a costume yet. I looked for one last night, but I couldn’t find the skirt with the stars on it that I bought in college. And I can’t go like this.” Hannah looked down at her bright blue T-shirt that said EAT DESSERT FIRST in black block letters.

“That’s okay. When I call Marge, I’ll ask her to go through the clothes at Helping Hands Thrift Shop. There’s bound to be something you can use, and Dad just loves to go there. Don’t worry about a thing. They’ll take care of it.”

Hannah was even more worried, but there was no way she’d say so. Lisa adored her mother-in-law and either didn’t realize or totally ignored the fact that Herb’s mother favored a style of clothing that Hannah secretly thought of as “visually-impaired gray-haired Hippie.” Instead of addressing that problem, she said simply, “Not red.”

“I’ll tell her. Just go on with Andrea and leave your costume to us.”

“All right, I will,” Hannah said, already regretting it. But she’d only have to wear the costume for an hour at the most, and then she’d never have to look at it again. How bad could it possibly be?

Chapter Twenty-One

“Find anything yet?” Andrea asked. She was sitting at Willa’s desk, going through the drawers while Hannah tackled the small kitchen that was built into an alcove.

“Yes.”

“You found something?”

“Yes, but not what you think. I found three boxes of macaroni and cheese, and a two-pound can of coffee. Those were the only consumables in her kitchen cupboard. For a home economics teacher, Willa didn’t do much cooking.”

“Pam probably invited her to eat with them every night.”

“That could be. Did you find anything?”

“A couple of things. Come and take a look.”

Hannah ducked out of the alcove and pulled a chair over to join Andrea at the desk. “A diploma?” she asked, taking the paper from Andrea.

“From high school. It’s got the year, and that means I can start researching the sale of her parents’ house.”

“Great. Anything else?”

“Yes. Willa was a romantic.”

Hannah took the hardcover volume that Andrea handed her. “A copy of Gone With The Wind makes her a romantic?”

“I think it does. But look inside and you’ll be really convinced.”

Hannah flipped the book open and discovered a flower pressed in a small cellophane bag. “Is that an orchid?”

“Yes. Read the card.”

There was a florist’s card under the flower and Hannah pulled it out. It read, Yesterday and Today, Tomorrow and Forever. “Do you think it’s from her high school prom?”

“Maybe. Or it could be from some other special occasion. She saved it, so it must have been important to her.”

“Very important, especially since she didn’t save anything else.” Hannah glanced around her. They’d searched every nook and cranny of Willa’s apartment, and the pressed flower and card were the only two personal items they’d found. “Let’s go up and talk to Pam. I want to find out if Willa ever brought any friends here.”

“Not really,” Pam responded to Hannah’s question and filled her coffee cup at the same time. “I didn’t think we were ever going to meet Gordon, but finally she agreed to bring him to dinner.”

“Gordon?” Hannah pulled out her steno pad.

“Gordon Tate. Professor Gordon Tate. He’s head of the archaeology department at Tri-County College.”

“And Willa was dating him?” Andrea asked.

“Yes. He was a bit older than she was, but that didn’t seem to matter. They were both loners, and they got along really well together. George and I were absolutely delighted when she told us he’d asked her to marry him.”

“Whoa,” Hannah said, frowning. “You didn’t tell me Willa was engaged.”

“That’s because she wasn’t. She told Gordon she couldn’t marry him, and they broke up two months ago.”

“Was it a bad breakup?” Andrea asked.

“No. If you ask me, there wasn’t enough passion in their relationship for it to be bad. The only thing either of them were passionate about was riding.”

“Riding?”

“Gordon had a place with a stable, and they went riding almost every weekend. Willa was a real cowgirl on her days off.”

“What about after they broke up?” Andrea asked.

“Oh, she still went out to his place to ride. They even dated for a while after she turned down his proposal. It was just that Willa really didn’t want to marry him. She said Gordon was much too set in his ways.”

“How do you mean?” Hannah wanted to know.

“He had a rigid schedule. Willa told me about it once. He had toast and orange juice for breakfast every morning, he read the paper from the front page back and never sneaked a peek at the comics first, and he washed the car every Thursday. That type of thing.”

“Sounds deadly dull,” Hannah commented, sighing a bit and wondering if she could use a little less passion and a little more dullness in her own love life.

“Well, Gordon was a bit of a stuffed shirt. He’s a very nice man. Don’t get me wrong. But Willa had so much more life in her. George and I weren’t too upset when they called it off, and Willa didn’t seem that upset either.”

“But was Gordon upset?”

“Upset enough to have taken revenge?” Andrea followed Hannah’s question with one of her own.

“Oh, no.” Pam waved off that suggestion. “Gordon would never do anything like that! I’m absolutely positive of it. And even if I’ve completely misread his personality, Gordon couldn’t have done it.”

“Why’s that?” Hannah asked her.

“He’s been out of the country for at least a month, and he’s not coming back until fall semester starts at the college. He’s taken six of his best students to a dig in Mexico.”

“Do you know where in Mexico?”

“No. Sorry. But you could probably check with the college. Whoever’s filling in for him at the department should know.”

Hannah was thoughtful on their way back to The Cookie Jar. Pam had always been a good judge of character, and Gordon didn’t sound like the type to murder Willa over a rejected proposal, but Hannah wasn’t willing to let it go. It was possible that Gordon had done it. People flew back and forth to places like Acapulco all the time. Until she’d eliminated that possibility, Gordon would remain on her list.

Hannah stared down at the pile of formal dresses that Marge and Jack Herman had placed on the work island in her kitchen and mouthed the words that the little girl in Poltergeist had exclaimed. “They’re back,” she said, under her breath.

“What was that?” Marge looked puzzled.

“Nothing. Where did you get all these?”

“From Helping Hands. They let us bring all of them. You choose the one you want, and we’ll bring the rest back.”

“Great,” Hannah said, because the first phrase that occurred to her would have shocked everyone.

“I really like the pink satin, but you probably won’t want to wear it with your hair,” Marge went on. “The Kelly green silk is nice, though. And the dotted Swiss with the lavender lining is just darling.”

“I like the purple,” Jack offered his opinion. “It’ll match Herb’s…whatchamacallit.”

Marge turned to him with a smile. “You’re right, Jack. It’ll match Herb’s cape perfectly.”

“That’s it, cape.” Jack returned her smile. “I’m surprised I forgot that word. Especially since we just watched that latest Superman movie. Which dress do you like, Lisa?”

“The turquoise voile. Or…maybe the yellow chiffon. Either one would look nice on you, Hannah.”

“I like the yellow, too,” Marge said, “but I’d take off that orange flower. It looks a little shopworn.”

“Right,” Hannah said, glancing at the huge orange flower that adorned the neckline of the yellow dress. Unfortunately, it covered a plunging neckline, and removing it would expose a whole lot more of her than she wanted to expose. If only Norman weren’t quite so efficient. He’d obviously dropped off her dresses at Helping Hands this morning, and now they were haunting her. She hadn’t expected him to keep them in his trunk forever, but another twenty-four hours would have been nice.

“Do you want to try them on?” Marge asked.

“No, that’s okay. They look like they’ll fit.”

“So which one will you wear?” Lisa asked after a long moment passed and Hannah hadn’t reached out to take one.

Hannah felt like a condemned man ordering his last meal and discovering that his only choices were foods he hated. As far as the dresses were concerned, they were equally bad. She told herself that she’d worn each of these outfits once, and she could make everyone happy if she wore one of them again. It wasn’t too much to ask.

“The purple?” Jack looked hopeful.

“Definitely the purple,” Hannah said, earning a huge smile from Jack. “I think it would be good if I coordinated colors with Herb, don’t you?”

“It’ll be perfect,” Lisa said.

“That’s very sweet of you, Hannah,” Marge said, and Hannah suspected that Marge had guessed the real reason she’d chosen the purple dress.

“Let’s take the rest of these back,” Jack suggested, carefully removing the purple taffeta from the pile and handing it to Hannah. “You’re coming, aren’t you, Marge?”

“Of course I am.”

After Marge and Jack had gone out the back, carrying the dresses, Hannah went to hang the purple taffeta in the bathroom so that she could change before she left for the fairgrounds. When she came out, she found Lisa waiting for her.

“Thanks, Hannah,” Lisa said, giving her a hug. “You made Dad really happy. But are you sure you really want to wear that dress? It’ll look horrible with your hair.”

Hannah shrugged. “That’s okay. It’s only for fifteen minutes or so, and then I’ll change clothes. It’s not like I’m going to wear it forever, you know.”

Hannah glanced at the clock. It was almost two, and they hadn’t had a customer in forty-five minutes. Everyone was out at the fairgrounds, and it was a waste of time and energy for them to stay open. “How about closing at two?” she asked Lisa.

“That’s fine with me. Herb’s getting off at two-thirty, and we’re going out to the fair early with Marge and Dad. And that reminds me, you can cross Mr. Hicks off your suspect list. Marge knows the family, and he’s been in a wheelchair for months. He broke his leg in a bar fight.”

“Thanks, Lisa.” Hannah took out her notebook and crossed off Tasha’s father. “I saw Willa’s killer running away, so it couldn’t possibly have…”

“I’ve got to go to the kitchen right now,” Lisa said. “Tell me later.”

“But we’re all through with the baking. Why do you have to go to the kitchen now?”

“Because Mrs. Rhodes just pulled up out front, and your mother’s getting out of the car.”

Hannah glanced out the plate glass window. Lisa was right. “And you’re deserting me in my hour of need?”

“Yes, but it’s for my own safety. Your mother might be looking for more volunteers. Herb and I saw that piece Wingo Jones did on KCOW television about No-No Fulton. If your mother asked me, I’d probably say yes, and I don’t want to get dunked.”

Hannah laughed and waved her away. She certainly couldn’t blame Lisa for that. She didn’t want to get dunked, either!

“Hello, dear,” Delores said, coming through the doorway as if she owned the place. “Carrie and I just got back from lunch. She’s going to check in with Luanne at the store, and I stopped in to bring you a kitty bag.”

“Don’t you mean doggy bag?”

“No, it’s for Moishe. We had the trout at that new fish place in the mall. It was so good, I ordered takeout for Moishe. There’s coleslaw in there, too, if you want it. He doesn’t eat that, does he?”

“Not usually. Thank you, Mother. That was very sweet of you.”

“You’re welcome.” Mother and daughter were both silent for a moment, and then Delores cleared her throat.

Here it comes, Hannah thought. Her mother hadn’t come all the way into town simply to deliver food for the grandcat who’d shredded a half-dozen pairs of her pantyhose.

“You’re looking into Willa Sunquist’s murder, aren’t you dear?”

“Yes, Mother. Unofficially, of course.”

“Of course. I’m not certain, but I may have some information you’ll find useful.”

“Really?” Hannah’s ears perked up. Delores was a charter member of the Lake Eden gossip hotline, Hannah’s name for the group of women who could spread a rumor ten times faster than a billboard in the center of town. Although Delores insisted that she never repeated gossip, the tidbits she’d divulged to Hannah in the past had helped to solve several murder cases.

“You know I don’t like to gossip, don’t you, dear?”

“Yes, Mother.”

“This may not be important, but Willa came into Granny’s Attic on Tuesday morning, right after she got her hair done. Luanne was working and she said Willa seemed quite Friday faced.”

“Friday faced?”

“Sorry, dear. I’ve been stuck in Regency mode lately. What I meant to say was that Willa appeared to be depressed.”

“Any idea why?”

“Yes, she came right out and told Luanne. She said she found a dress she adored at Claire’s shop, but she couldn’t afford it. And then she asked Luanne if we ever bought old silver.”

This was getting interesting. Hannah poured her mother a cup of coffee and brought out the cookies. “And Luanne told her you did?”

“That’s right. Willa said she’d be right back, and she was, about fifteen minutes later, with a cardboard box full of silver. She said she’d been lugging it around for ages and she couldn’t bear to unpack it.”

“Did she say why?”

“Yes. It was from her parents’ house, and looking at it made her miss them too much.”

“I guess I can understand that.”

“Really? Is there something of mine that would make you miss me too much?”

It was a trick question, and Hannah knew it. Whatever she said would be wrong. But she had to say something, so she simply blurted out the truth. “It wouldn’t be any sort of special object, Mother. I think that just waking up in the morning and remembering that you weren’t there would make me miss you every day.”

“Oh, Hannah!” Delores looked perfectly astonished. “I didn’t know that you were so sentimental.”

“I didn’t either,” Hannah said, surprising herself by blinking back a tear. “Don’t tell anyone, okay?”

Delores used her napkin to wipe her eyes. “All right. I won’t.”

“Thank you, Mother. I don’t want to ruin my reputation for being pragmatic. So did Luanne buy the silver from Willa?”

“Yes. She opened the box, and the first thing she saw was a three-tiered filigreed candy dish, circa nineteen forty. And since one of our decorators is looking for a candy dish exactly like it and she’s willing to pay a hundred and fifty dollars, Luanne knew how valuable it was. And right next to the candy dish was a pair of silver candlesticks that must have belonged to Willa’s grandmother.”

“Valuable?”

“Yes. At least a hundred dollars, perhaps more. Luanne asked Willa how much she wanted for the silver, and Willa said she was hoping it would be worth a hundred dollars.”

“So Luanne paid her a hundred dollars?”

“No, dear. That’s not the way we do business at Granny’s Attic. After all, we have to live in this community. It’s different at an auction. Then we get the best bargain we can. But this was a purchase from someone right here in Lake Eden. No one would ever patronize us again if we cheated our neighbors.”

“So Luanne offered Willa two hundred and fifty dollars?”

“Two hundred. We’re entitled to make a profit.”

“And Willa was happy with that?”

“She was delighted, and she went right off to buy her dress. Luanne put the box in the back, and she didn’t get around to going through it until this morning.” Delores frowned slightly. “I’m meandering like the Serpentine, aren’t I, dear?”

Serpentine. River in London. Delores was back in Regency mode again. Hannah just smiled. “That’s okay, Mother. Just tell me what Luanne found.”

“Several other nice pieces, but nothing outstanding. It turned out that two hundred was a fair price.”

“And…” Hannah encouraged her mother to go on.

“Way down at the bottom of the box was another box. It was one of those gift presentation boxes lined with blue velvet. Do you know what I mean, dear?”

“Yes. You gave me some silver salt and pepper shakers in a box like that last year. What was inside Willa’s presentation box?”

“Two crystal champagne glasses in silver sleeves, the kind a bride and groom use to toast each other at weddings.”

“And they were from her parents’ wedding?”

“No, dear. They couldn’t have been. I looked up the history of the company that made them, and they’ve only been in business for three years.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

“I’ll be right back. I need something cold to drink.” Herb Normanoncefanned his face with the schedule they’d picked up at the box office. They were standing outside the stage door to the auditorium, and getting there hadn’t been easy. Hannah and Herb had carried the magic cabinet, which had turned out to be surprisingly heavy. “Do you want me to bring you something?”

“Yes.”

“What?”

“A glass of water and three strong guys. Seriously, Herb…I think we’re going to need some help getting the magic cabinet inside.”

“You’re right. I’ll look around for someone to recruit. Stay by the cabinet, okay? It was expensive, and Lisa and I saved up for a month to buy it.”

Hannah stood there for a few moments, watching the crowds pass by. And then she heard someone call her name. She turned to see Eddy and Ginger Eilers rushing toward her. Both Ginger and Eddy were 4-H Club supporters, and their nine-year-old son, Kenny, had joined the moment he was old enough.

“Kenny, tell Miss Swensen what you told us.” Ginger motioned him forward, and Hannah had the distinct impression that if Kenny had failed to move, both parents would have grabbed him by the arms and shoved him up to face her.

“Okay. I just didn’t want to…you know,” Kenny said, gulping a little.

“He’s afraid he won’t be able to show his calf if he tells you what he did,” Eddy explained. “Kenny broke the rules.”

Hannah was puzzled. “But…I don’t have anything to do with the livestock judging.”

“That’s what I told him. And I also said that maybe you wouldn’t have to say where you got the information.”

“What information?” Hannah asked.

“I know something about the lady that was killed,” Kenny said, “but I didn’t want to say anything because I was sneaking into the barn after it was all locked up to make sure that Boomer was okay.”

“Boomer’s his calf,” Eddy explained. “This is Kenny’s first 4-H competition.”

“He thought Boomer might be lonely in the barn with all those strange calves,” Ginger added.

“I see.” Hannah turned to Kenny. “Then I think it would be best if you tell me what you saw in confidence, and I won’t use your name. Is that okay with you?”

“Okay!” Kenny looked very relieved. “I didn’t know it was important until Princess Michelle came around with the picture. She passed it around, and I recognized that lady. Do you want to know all about when I saw her?”

“That would be a good place to start.”

“Okay. The first time I saw her was on the first night, and she was with a rodeo cowboy. They were fighting, you know…arguing about something. I didn’t hear what it was, but she looked really mad. And then he said some stuff and they made up.”

Hannah took a deep breath and prepared to address what could be a delicate subject. “How do you know they made up?”

“I saw them hugging. They hugged for a long time. And then he walked her out to the parking lot.”

“What did he look like?”

Kenny shrugged. “Like all the rest of the rodeo cowboys.”

“Describe him, Kenny,” Ginger broke in. “Tell Miss Swensen what he was wearing.”

“Oh. Okay, Mom. He was wearing cowboy boots. They all wear cowboy boots. And jeans and a snappy black shirt.”

“He means a shirt with snaps instead of buttons,” Eddy clarified.

“And he had on a cowboy hat. That’s why I don’t know what color his hair is or anything like that. It was one of those big hats.”

“You said Monday night was the first time you saw them.”

“Yeah. I saw them again the next night. It was late and I was checking on Boomer again. They started turning the lights on and off, and I knew I had to get back to the dorm with the other kids.”

“They stay overnight in the dorm building,” Eddy explained. “The parents take turns chaperoning them.”

“She was with that cowboy again,” Kenny went on. “Least-wise I think it was the same cowboy. It was dark, and it was kinda hard to tell. They were just walking past the barn when I saw them.”

“Which way were they going?” Hannah asked.

“Towards the Ferris wheel. And I was going the other way towards the dorm. And then the lights flickered again, and I started to run so I could get in before they locked the door.”

“Was that the last time you saw them?” Hannah asked.

“Yes.”

“Thank you for telling me, Kenny,” Hannah said. “You helped me a lot. And don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone we talked.”

After Ginger, Eddy, and Kenny had left, Hannah leaned against the magic cabinet and thought about what she’d learned. On Tuesday night, right after the judging, Willa had told her she was meeting someone. Was that someone the rodeo cowboy that Kenny had seen? She was just wondering how things tied together when she overheard a snatch of conversation.

“Tucker sure messed up with that Brahma,” one man said. “I’ve never seen him get thrown so easy before.”

“Yeah. Makes you wonder, don’t it?”

“Wonder what?”

“Wonder if he did it on purpose. Darn near killed Curly getting that bull sidetracked so Tucker could get out. Hope he’s gonna be okay.”

Hannah risked a peek around the corner. Just as she’d suspected, two rodeo cowboys were headed her way. If they saw her, they’d stop talking so candidly, and she was very interested in what they had to say, especially since she’d just learned that Willa had met a rodeo cowboy on the night that she was killed.

“Poor Curly. You saw him right after. Do you think he’s gonna be all right?” the second cowboy asked.

“I don’t know. He was tore up pretty bad. And Tucker didn’t act right about it, you know?”

“Why? What did he do?”

Hannah couldn’t wait any longer. Their voices were getting louder as they approached, and there was no cover she could take to keep from being seen, except…

The moment she thought of it she was moving, opening the door of the magic cabinet and stepping inside. She closed the door, latched it from the inside, and peeked out through one of the slots for the swords as the two cowboys came around the corner.

“Most guys that come over that top rail look like they saw a ghost. They’re real scared. Tucker wasn’t. He was grinning until he saw I was watching him.”

“That’s real bad if you’re right about it. But why’d Tucker want to hurt Curly?”

Their voices had sounded familiar, and now that she’d seen them Hannah knew why. They’d been a part of the group of rodeo cowboys giving the trick roping demonstration the first morning of the fair. Had Willa known one of these cowboys? Had seeing him again been such a shock that Hannah and Pam had mistaken Willa’s reaction for sunstroke?

And then another question jumped front and center in Hannah’s mind. Was one of these men the rodeo cowboy that Kenny Eilers had seen with Willa shortly before she was murdered?

Hannah expected the two cowboys to walk on by. When they did, she planned to step out of the cabinet and try to hear more of their conversation as they walked away. But they stopped right next to the magic cabinet, and one of them leaned against it with a thump.

“There’s bad blood between those two,” the second cowboy explained. “Curly was sweet on Brianna, and they were going out almost every night before Tucker joined up with the show.”

“I know that, but Tucker’s got no reason to kill Curly. He beat Curly out fair and square. Brianna’s gonna marry Tucker. He gave her a ring and everything.”

“A ring don’t mean it’s over.”

“What do you mean?”

“Gals change their mind all the time. It’s not over until Sam walks Brianna down the aisle and she says I do in front of a preacher.”

“You mean Curly might win her back?”

“Anything’s possible. The way I hear it, Curly’s been asking questions about Tucker’s background. I think he’s trying to dig up something to keep Brianna from marrying him. And that could be why Tucker tried to do him in today. Could be that Curly’s getting a little too close to the truth.”

“What truth?”

“I dunno. Say…are you going to the roundup dance Saturday night? Some of these local gals look pretty good to me.”

“Me, too. But there’s that new little barrel rider. She’s cute.”

“You’re better off with the local girls. You have a little fun, and then you can leave town. If you go for the barrel rider, she’s with you for the whole season.”

“You got a point. And that reminds me…we’re gonna get paid, aren’t we?”

“You mean because of the robbery?”

“Yeah.”

Burglary, Hannah mentally corrected them, but she didn’t make a sound. She didn’t dare move, either, although she was getting more than a little cramped.

“I asked Riggs, and he said not to worry about it. Sam’s got plenty put away.”

“Hannah?” a familiar voice called her name. And then again, a bit closer, “Hannah?”

Hannah remained perfectly silent and perfectly motionless. It was Herb calling her, but she couldn’t answer. If she made a sound, the two cowboys would know she’d been eavesdropping on their conversation.

About the time Hannah didn’t think she could stand being confined a moment longer, she saw Herb come around the corner. He looked worried and she was sorry about that, but there’d be time to explain everything later.

“Hi, guys,” Herb greeted them.

“Hey,” one of the cowboys answered. “You must be the magician, huh?”

“That’s me. Did you see a woman around here, tall and a little chubby with frizzy red hair?”

There would also be time to make Herb pay for that chubby remark later, Hannah promised herself. Right now silence on her part was essential.

“Nope,” the second cowboy answered. “Haven’t seen anybody like that, and we’ve been standing here talking for a couple of minutes or so.”

“Lose your wife?” the first cowboy asked.

“No, my assistant. And I can’t do my trick without her. But since you guys are here, I wonder if you’d do me a little favor.”

“Sure, as long as you’re not gonna pull us out of a hat,” the second cowboy said with a laugh.

“It’s nothing like that. I have to get this cabinet inside and ready to go out on stage. It’s heavy, and I can’t do it alone. Do you think you could help me carry it?”

“We can do that,” the first cowboy said with a grin. “How’d you get it this far anyway?”

“My assistant helped me carry it.”

“Tall and chubby with frizzy red hair and muscles?” The second cowboy turned to his friend. “Sounds like your type.”

“Maybe. Be a lot better than that gal from Fargo.” The first cowboy flashed a grin. “Where do you want us to grab this, Houdini?”

“See the handles on the sides?”

“Yeah. I see ’em.”

“You take one side, your buddy can take the other, and I’ll get the handle on the end. Ready?”

There was a breathless moment when Hannah felt herself lifted, and tilted so that she was on her back with her feet higher than her head. Then everything changed and they set her down. Hard.

“Whoa!” one of the cowboys exclaimed. “This thing’s heavy! You say you and your assistant carried it all the way here?”

“That’s right. This probably sounds crazy, but it didn’t seem this heavy then. Maybe we need more muscle. Do you think we should look for a fourth guy to help us?”

“Nah.” The first cowboy shook his head. “We lift heavier than this when we strike the show. We’ll get this dang thing inside for you or die tryin’.”

Hannah took a deep breath and tensed for what might be a rough ride. The back of her head felt slightly sore, and she hoped they wouldn’t set her down hard again.

What a terrible pickle! she thought, using one of her father’s favorite expressions as she was jolted and jounced and bumped inside. Then the cabinet came to rest, upright, thank goodness, and Hannah took a grateful breath.

“Thanks a lot, guys,” Herb said, and Hannah watched through the sword slit near her head as Herb shook their hands. “I’d better go look for my assistant before they call my name.”

Hannah watched Herb walk away, presumably to go look for her. The two cowboys stood there for a moment and then they left, too. Hannah moved her head to look out of another slit. There was no one around.

After a second check of all the slits she could use as peepholes, Hannah inched the door open and stepped out. She shut the door behind her and was just dusting herself off when Herb rushed up to her.

“Where were you?”

“Not that far away.”

“But I looked all over for you and I couldn’t find you. I thought you were going to stay with the magic cabinet.”

“I had it in my sight the whole time,” Hannah insisted, not mentioning that her sight had been from the inside of the cabinet. “Those two cowboys were pretty good lifters, weren’t they?”

“I’ll say!” Herb wiped his forehead and took a deep breath. “Sorry, Hannah. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. We’re up next, and I guess I’m nervous.”

“You’ll do fine. Really you will.”

“I sure hope so! Lisa’s got all her old girlfriends from high school out there to cheer me on. Do you think we can get the magic cabinet out on stage by ourselves?”

“Absolutely.”

“But it’s really heavy.”

“Just leave it to me. I’m used to lifting fifty-pound sacks of flour and sugar down at The Cookie Jar.” Hannah thought it wise not to mention that the magic cabinet would be more than a few pounds lighter when they moved it on stage. “All you have to do is stick the right swords in all the right places at all the right times, and we’ll be just fine.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

“Come on, Hannah. They’re calling for us!”

Herb was beaming from ear to ear as he took her arm and escorted her onto the stage. Hannah was beaming, too. They’d won the competition. Herb had been judged the best magician in the show.

Her smile stayed in place until there were several flashes and she realized that Norman was standing up in front of the audience, taking their picture. Her picture. In the awful purple taffeta bridesmaid dress!

Another few minutes of handshaking with the judges and bowing to the audience and they were through. Hannah walked offstage and into the wings with a huge sigh of relief.

“Congratulations!” Norman said, rushing up to Herb to shake his hand. And then he turned to Hannah. “You were just perfect, Hannah. I knew it was a trick, but I still got nervous when Herb asked you to knock three times if you were okay, and he had to ask twice before you did it.”

“I think that’s what really impressed the judges,” Herb said. “Hannah’s sense of timing was just great. I knew she was fine, but I was still starting to get a little worried about her.”

Me, too, Hannah thought, but she didn’t admit it. She wasn’t about to tell anybody that her leg had gone to sleep and she was so busy massaging it, she hadn’t even heard Herb’s question the first time he asked it.

“Rod said to tell you he’s writing a feature story about the contest and he’s going to run a picture of the two of you in the Lake Eden Journal on Sunday.”

Hannah gave a weak little smile. Her picture. In the awful purple taffeta bridesmaid dress. Her own words had come back to haunt her. It’s not like I’m going to wear it forever, you know, she’d told Lisa. But now it appeared she was. She’d be frozen forever in the archives of their local newspaper, wearing the awful purple…

“What is it?” Norman asked as Hannah suddenly started to smile.

“Nothing.” Hannah gave a little shrug, but she felt more like whooping, hollering, and dancing. Rod only published one color picture a year, and that was at Christmas. The rest of the year all photos were in black and white. In the picture that Norman had just taken, she’d be wearing a black dress. She was saved! This wasn’t the worst day of her life, after all!

“Too bad we won’t be in color,” Herb said, frowning slightly. “Lisa really likes the way I look in this purple cape.”

Norman thumped the side of his head with his hand. “I was so excited about your winning, I forgot to tell you. Rod’s pulling out all the stops for this feature. He’s even going to publish your picture in color right under the banner on the front page.”

“It’s really nice of you to drive me, Norman.” Hannah was grateful, due in no small part to the cool air that was blowing from the vents in Norman’s sedan. Although she had air-conditioning in her cookie truck, tepid was the word that best described the lowest temperature it reached. “And thanks for letting me call Doc Knight from your nice, cool car.”

“That’s okay. You need one.”

“A car with good air-conditioning?”

“No, a cell phone. It’s a good thing to have in case of an emergency. It could even save your life.”

“Maybe you’re right, but think of all the calls I’d get from Mother. It would be like wearing an electronic leash.”

Norman thought about that for a moment. “Then don’t turn it on unless you want to make a call.”

“But doesn’t that defeat the whole purpose?”

“Not really. It would be there for your convenience, not your mother’s. Think of it as the miniature phone booth you carry in your purse. Instead of putting in money to make a call, you just turn it on and punch in the number.”

“That’s worth considering,” Hannah said, warming to the idea. “I promise I’ll think about it.”

“Good. Only two miles to go Hannah.”

Hannah glanced at her watch. “I think we’re going to make it. Doc Knight promised he’d delay as long as he could before he put Curly under.”

“I sure hope he’s okay. He’s my favorite rodeo clown.”

“You know him?”

“A little. I talked to him before the rodeo this afternoon, and I took his picture.”

“When he was saving Tucker from the bull?”

“Before that. They needed a few photos for flyers to advertise the show, and I volunteered.”

Hannah smiled. Norman was a very generous man. “That was nice of you, Norman.”

“Maybe. But I had an ulterior motive.”

“What?”

“When I was a kid, I loved rodeos. I guess it sounds silly now, but I always wanted to be a rodeo star.”

“It doesn’t sound silly to me. I always wanted to be a prima ballerina, but I have lousy balance.”

“Same here. Not the ballet part, but I’m a lousy rider so I knew I couldn’t be a rodeo cowboy. That’s when I started noticing the clowns and I realized that their job was more important and a lot more dangerous than any rodeo star out there.”

“I never came to terms with the ballet thing,” Hannah admitted. “I skipped school one day, took the bus to Minneapolis, and bought myself a pair of Capezios. I thought that if I had the right shoes, I could be a ballerina.”

“That’s sad.” Norman reached out to squeeze her hand.

“No, that’s stupid. But I still put on Swan Lake sometimes, and dance around the living room.”

Norman pulled up in the parking lot and shut off the engine. “Do you think Curly can shed any light on Willa’s murder?”

“I don’t know. The whole thing is like a jigsaw puzzle, the kind that doesn’t have a picture on the cover. I’ve got a lot more pieces in place right now than I did when I started, but so far all they’re doing is making me realize how many other pieces are missing.”

As they pushed open the door to the lobby at Lake Eden Memorial Hospital, a familiar scent hit Hannah’s nostrils. It was the smell she always associated with hospitals, a combination of antiseptic floor soap, talcum powder, and coffee that had warmed in a pot for too long. There was a mirrored wall that had been designed to make the waiting area seem larger, and Hannah winced as she caught sight of her reflection. She was still wearing the purple taffeta dress. She hadn’t wanted to take the time to change.

“Nobody at the desk,” Norman said, walking up to the deserted reception area and stating the obvious.

“That’s okay. Doc Knight told me which room. Come on.”

Hannah led the way down the corridor to one of the rooms Doc Knight used for pre op. She opened the door, expecting to see Doc Knight and a nurse hovering over Curly, but the only person in the room was the cowboy.

“Hi, Curly,” she said, walking over to take the chair by his bed. “I’m Hannah Swensen. Did Doc Knight tell you I was coming?”

Curly nodded, which was all he could do. It was obvious that he’d taken a turn for the worse since she’d spoken to Doc Knight. Curly was now on a ventilator.

“I realize you can’t speak, so I’ll only ask questions you can answer with a yes or a no. Do you think that Tucker deliberately tried to kill you this afternoon?”

Curly’s eyes widened. He was clearly startled by the question, and Hannah hoped she hadn’t shocked him too much. Then he sighed and gave a nod.

“One of the other cowboys said you’ve been asking questions about Tucker’s background. Is that true?”

Curly gave another nod, a little weaker this time. Hannah knew she had to hurry. He was fading fast.

“Did you find out anything that might have caused Tucker to try to kill you?”

Curly tried to move his head, but it didn’t happen. He blinked his eyelids as if they were too heavy to keep open, and then they fluttered shut. Hannah glanced at the IV stand next to his bed. Something in a bag was slowly dripping into Curly’s veins and Hannah concluded that Doc Knight had ordered a pre-op sedative.

“Hannah?” It was Doc Knight, and Hannah moved over as he walked to the bed and made an adjustment to Curly’s IV. “That’s it. I have to get this young man patched up.”

“Okay, Doc.” Hannah turned back to Curly. He looked as still as death, and she hoped it was just a metaphor.

“Good luck, Curly,” Norman said, reaching out to touch his arm.

“Yes, good luck,” Hannah echoed, and then she turned to Doc Knight. “Is he going to be okay?”

Doc Knight motioned them out into the hallway. “I can’t make any promises,” he said. “He’s young and he’s strong, and he was in good health before that bull got to him. That’s in his favor. And I’m going to do my best. That goes without saying. The only thing is, I’m not going to know how much damage there is until I open him up.”

“So it could go either way?” Norman asked.

“I’m afraid so. Times like this make me wish I’d gone into dermatology.”

“Not exactly a balanced meal,” Norman said, smiling as he dug into his Corn Dog Combo. Since they’d gotten back to the fairgrounds forty minutes before the Miss Tri-County Competition was scheduled to start, and changing clothes had taken Hannah only a couple of minutes, they had time to stop at the food court for sustenance.

Hannah glanced down at his plate. “Looks balanced to me. You’ve got a corn dog balanced on top of a pile of baked beans.”

“I like the way you think,” Norman said, glancing over at her plate. “How’s that Big Blue Ox burger?”

“A little heavy on the blue cheese, but a lot better than I thought it would be.”

Hannah and Norman were silent for a few moments while they hurried through their meals. Norman was the first to finish, and he stood up. “What do you want for dessert?”

A deep-fried candy bar, Hannah thought, but she didn’t say it. They’d passed the Sinful Pleasures booth on their way in, and someone else had been taking Ruby’s place. Hannah assumed that she was at the hospital with Riggs, since Curly was one of his rodeo clowns. She’d wait to indulge in that particular calorie-laden treat until Ruby was working again.

“Just coffee,” Hannah said, although she was already tasting the gooey confection in her mind. “We’re judging cakes tonight so I’ll have plenty of dessert later.”

“Okay, I’ll get the coffee. Which booth is best?”

“The Cookie Nook. Mayor Bascomb’s staff makes a mean cup of coffee.”

Once Norman had headed off to fetch their coffee, Hannah glanced around at the other tables. There was no one she knew except…“Mary?” she called out, spotting Mary Adamczak several tables away.

“Yes?” several women chorused, and Hannah felt like a fool. Mary was a very popular name in the Tri-County area.

“Sorry,” Hannah apologized to all the women who were staring at her. “I thought I saw Mary Adamczak.”

“Here I am,” Mary Adamczak called out.

“And here I am,” her younger companion added.

Hannah felt her mind clutch as she walked over to their table. “What’s going on? Both of you are Mary Adamczak?”

“That’s right,” the older woman, the Mary Adamczak Hannah knew, answered her. “I’m Mary Lou Adamczak, and I’d like you to meet Mary Kay Adamczak, my son Ronnie’s wife.”

Hannah laughed. “You really had me going there. Glad to meet you, Mary Kay.” And then she noticed that Mary Lou’s right arm was in a sling. “What happened to your arm?”

“I pulled a tendon last week. That’s why Mary Kay had to make my cinnamon bread this year.”

“That was you?” Hannah turned to Mary Kay.

“Yes, and it’s the first time in my life I’ve ever baked anything. I couldn’t believe I won a ribbon!”

“And she did it without any help from me,” Mary Lou said, sounding very proud. “Ronnie took me in to see Doc Knight, and when we came home, she’d baked two loaves.”

“Are you moving here to Lake Eden?” Hannah asked Mary Kay.

“No, we’re just visiting until the end of the month. That’s when Ronnie goes back to work. He’s an assistant basketball coach for the Badgers.”

University of Wisconsin Badgers, Hannah recited to herself, remembering how she’d once memorized all the university team names in a five-state area to impress a college baseball player she’d wanted to date. That had never happened, but she still remembered the team names.

“I think that man over there wants to get your attention,” Mary Kay said, gesturing in Norman’s direction.

“You’re right. He went to get us some coffee, and he’s back. Nice seeing you Mary Lou. And nice meeting you Mary Kay. Congratulations on your success in the competition.”

As Hannah hurried back to the table and the hot cup of coffee that awaited her, she mentally crossed Mary Lou Adamczak off her suspect list. And then she mentally congratulated herself for giving Mary Kay’s cinnamon bread a high enough score to win an honorable mention.

“I’m not surprised Michelle won tonight,” Norman said as they made their way out of the auditorium. “She gave an excellent answer to the question about world hunger, and it was a tough question.”

“I know. She’s always been good at thinking on her feet, and she’s well informed about social issues. I thought it helped a lot when she interjected a little humor into the question about nutrition.”

“It cracked everybody up, including the judges.” Norman gave a little chuckle. “And I know where she got that answer.”

Hannah assumed a guileless expression. “Can I help it if she picks things up from me?”

Norman stopped at the steps to the Creative Arts Building and put his arm around Hannah’s shoulders. “Do you mind if I wait for you to get through with tonight’s judging? I’d like to follow you home and check in with Moishe.”

“With Moishe?”

“Yeah. I’m still worried about the Big Guy. I thought I’d run over to the mall while you’re judging and pick up some treats from the pet store.”

“That’s really nice of you, Norman.” Hannah smiled. Norman really was a great guy. “Moishe always loves to see you. But I do have to make it an early night. I’ve been up late three nights in a row, and I need to turn in early and sweat myself to sleep.”

Norman laughed appreciatively. “I know what you mean,” he said, “but the weatherman said it’s going to cool down by midnight.”

“Which weatherman?”

“Rayne Phillips on KCOW.”

“Then it’s going to be hot all night. Rayne Phillips is always wrong. I’m really glad the former owners put a window air conditioner in my bedroom.”

“And I’m really glad you thought to put central air in our dream house.”

“It’s your dream house, Norman.”

“Whatever. I’m glad you suggested it.”

“You mean you actually installed it?”

“Of course. You’re surprised?”

Hannah nodded. Air-conditioning had been a part of the plans they’d submitted for the contest. But when Norman had decided to build the house they’d designed together, she hadn’t expected him to actually install it for the week or two it was needed every year. “It was a big expense.”

“I know, but it’s like you said when we drew up the plans. You don’t need air-conditioning very often in Minnesota, but when you do, a fan blowing over a bowl of ice cubes just won’t cut it.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

When Hannah walked out of the judging room with Lisa and Pam, she was in a marvelous mood. They’d made quick work of sampling everything, and an incredible orange cake, entered by Sue Plotnik, Hannah’s downstairs neighbor, had taken first place.

“So did you learn any more about poor Willa?” Pam asked, her voice breaking slightly.

“A couple of things. She sold Luanne a box of silver that supposedly belonged to her parents.”

“Supposedly?” Pam picked up on the word right away.

“Most of it probably did, but there was a pair of silver champagne glasses that were only a couple of years old.”

“You mean the type they use at weddings?” Lisa asked.

“Exactly. Mother thinks that maybe Willa was married.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Pam said. “She never said anything about a husband, and she didn’t wear a ring. And her name is the same as it was on her high school records. There’s got to be another explanation.”

“Maybe her parents got the champagne glasses as a gift for a special occasion,” Lisa suggested. “Or maybe they bought them intending to give them to a bride and groom, but the wedding was called off or something like that.”

“Possible,” Hannah said, filing the suggestions away for further consideration. “One of the 4-H kids said he saw Willa with one of the rodeo cowboys on Monday and Tuesday nights.”

“Which one?” Lisa asked.

“I don’t know yet.”

Pam sighed as she locked the door behind her. “That could explain the new hairdo and dress, especially if she was really interested in him. And it’s entirely possible she was. After she broke up with Gordon, Willa was lonely. Of course she never told me that. Willa kept pretty much to herself. But she’d been seeing Gordon every night, since they were on the same campus and all. Even if she didn’t love him, she was bound to miss the time they’d spent together.”

Hannah made a mental note to follow up on Gordon Tate. Even if he wasn’t directly involved in her death, he might know something about Willa’s background that could point them in the right direction.

“Did Willa have a best friend at college?” Lisa asked Pam. “Or maybe someone on the staff at Jordon High that she confided in?”

“Not really. I think I was probably closer to her than anyone else, but I really didn’t know that much about her. She never talked about herself.”

“Do you know if Willa had a safe deposit box? Or a storage locker somewhere?” Hannah asked.

“I’m almost sure she didn’t. The only other place she kept things was…”

“Where?” Hannah asked, as Pam stopped speaking.

“Her desk at school. I forgot all about it! Do you want to search it?”

“Absolutely. Something could be there.”

Pam opened her purse and pulled out a key ring. She snapped off a key and handed it to Hannah. “This opens the delivery door in my classroom. I always go in that way, so I don’t have to carry two keys. You know where it is, don’t you?”

“Yes. I used it when I taught that night class for you.”

“Right. Willa’s desk is the one in the back of the room between the windows. You might have to break the lock. She was always careful about locking it before she left, and she had the only key.”

“And they didn’t find her keys?” Lisa asked.

“No. Mike warned us to re-key the locks to the apartment, and George did that right away. But I never even thought about the key to my classroom and the one to her desk.”

They parted company at the end of the corridor. Pam went out the back door to turn in their results at the judging office, and Hannah and Lisa went out the front.

“See you tomorrow, Hannah,” Lisa said. “I’m meeting Herb at the food court.”

“Tell him congratulations again for me.”

“I will. And thanks again. You were just wonderful.”

When Lisa left, Hannah glanced at her watch. It was only eight forty-five, and Norman wasn’t picking her up until nine. She had fifteen minutes to kill, and she was going to spend them right here.

It was a good vantage point, and Hannah sat down on the top step to watch the crowd pass by. Three teenage girls sauntered past, eating snow cones and giggling. Right behind them were three teenage boys, swaggering a bit and talking loudly. It was clear that the boys were interested in the girls, and Hannah wondered if any of them would work up the courage to actually say anything directly to them.

A young mother pushing a stroller stopped outside the 4-H building. She glanced at her watch and then she leaned down to wipe her baby’s face with a washcloth she removed from her diaper bag. Hannah heard the baby start to whimper, but the mother took out a bottle of water, gave the baby a drink, and then plugged in a pacifier. A moment or two later, five stair-step kids came rushing up. They were called stair-step kids because if you lined them up from shortest to tallest and looked at the tops of their heads, they’d rise upward like a staircase.

The oldest girl, around twelve Hannah thought, handed her mother something in a cup, and then she moved behind the stroller. She said something to her older brother, but Hannah was too far away to hear, and he shouldered the diaper bag. The three younger children held hands, and the family set off for the exit with the young mother looking much less tired than she had only moments before.

The little slice of life unfolding before her eyes made Hannah think about her own family and how she’d helped to take care of Michelle. She’d helped with Andrea too, although there were only four years between them. Maybe she was cut out to be a mother. Or maybe she didn’t have to be a mother because she’d already been a stand-in for her own mother. There were times when Michelle seemed like her own child. And then there was Andrea, and…here she was!

“Hi, Andrea,” Hannah said as her sister climbed up the steps. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to report on the house. And I’ve only got a couple of minutes because I have to drive home to put Tracey to bed. She hates to go to bed without her stories.”

“That’s good, Andrea. What book are you reading to her?”

“Oh, I’m not. I tell her stories. Tracey just loves the ones about Tracey and the Widget.”

“The Widget?” Hannah started to grin. She’d told Andrea stories about Andrea and the Widget when Andrea was about Tracey’s age.

“It’s your Widget. I still remember the stories. And if I forget something, I just make it up. I thought it would be good if we continued the family tradition, you know? Anyway, Willa got next to nothing for the house. It was mortgaged to the hilt, and the agent I talked to thought the money went to pay lawyers’ fees.”

“Willa’s parents were being sued?”

“I asked him. He didn’t know. But all Willa cleared on the estate auction and the sale of the house was about six thousand dollars.”

Hannah filed that information away to write down later in her notebook. “When did Willa sell the house?”

“Over two years ago, right before she started college at Tri-County. Bill accessed her records for me. She transferred in from another college, but I don’t remember which one.”

“I can find out. Pam probably knows.” Hannah patted the top step. “Sit down for a minute and I’ll tell you what I learned today.”

“I can’t.”

“You don’t have a couple of minutes?”

“It’s not that. I can’t sit.”

“Why not?”

“My pants are too tight.”

“Too tight?” Hannah asked, grinning at her sister.

“Yes. When you have two children, you add an inch or two to your waist. And that’s not funny!” Andrea stopped and looked at Hannah intently. “You don’t think I’m getting fat, do you?”

“I should be so fat!”

“Oh. Okay. I just worry about it sometimes, you know? I mean, look at our family history.”

“Mother’s been a size six all of her life. She could probably get into the clothes she wore in high school.”

“I know, but I still worry. Dad wasn’t exactly a lightweight. I don’t want to get fat, Hannah. Bill might leave me if I get fat.”

“Bill will never leave you. He loves you.”

“He might not love me so much if I’m fat. The only thing I’ve got going for me is my looks, and they’re going to fade when I get older. I’ve got a good figure, but I’ve got to work to keep myself in shape. It’s different with you.”

“How so?” Hannah asked, expecting a massive blow to her ego.

“You’ve got so much more than I have. You’re smart, you’re funny, and you’re just plain good. I…well…the only thing I’ve got going for myself is that I look good.”

Hannah had the urge to run down the steps and out into the crowd. She really didn’t know what to say. But Andrea was reaching out to her and she had to respond. So she decided to wing it and hope for the best.

“You’re an idiot, Andrea,” Hannah said. “You’re putting yourself down, and I don’t like it.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are! I don’t have anything more going for me than you do. You’re right about being good-looking, but you’re also smart. And you’re a good wife and mother, and you’re creative, and you’re the best sister in the world. And I love you.”

“Oh, Hannah! That’s so nice of you to say!”

“Well…don’t take it seriously. I might change my mind tomorrow. Now hurry home to Tracey and Bethie, and I’ll tell you everything I found out later.”

After Andrea left, Hannah watched the crowds for a few moments, and then she glanced at her watch again. Norman should be arriving in five minutes or less. It couldn’t be soon enough to suit her. She wanted to go to the school to search Willa’s desk, and there was no way she wanted to go alone, especially since Willa’s keys hadn’t been recovered. She was just wondering if she had time to walk over to the 4-H building and take a look at Kenny’s calf when she saw Mike round the corner.

“Hannah,” he said, running up the steps. “I just found out something interesting. In cases like this when we don’t have many leads, we usually run the vic’s…uh…”

“It’s okay,” Hannah jumped in before he could apologize again. “Do you want some cake? It’s the winning entry for tonight, Kitty’s Orange Cake.”

“Sure. I love orange cake. I haven’t had it since…” Mike stopped and swallowed hard.

“Well, I think you’ll like this one,” Hannah said, jumping in so that Mike didn’t have to explain. She was certain he had been about to say that his wife had baked orange cake.

“Thanks, Hannah.” Mike took the slice that Hannah handed him and tried it. “Mmm…this is good. And it won first place?”

“Yes. It beat out an excellent chocolate sauerkraut cake and a really good coconut spice. Another piece?”

“Yeah, but that better be it. I skipped lunch, but I still have to lose another pound.”

Hannah cut another slice, making it a bit larger than the last, and covered the plate again. “You said you usually run the victim’s what?”

“Background. We run the fingerprints and do a background check. And something came up about the…Miss Sunquist. Did you know that she was married?”

“No,” Hannah said, not mentioning the fact that Delores had come to the same conclusion when she’d found out about the silver champagne glasses. “When did she get married?”

“Three years ago. Her husband was Jess Alan Reiffer, and they got married on June eleventh. She didn’t tell anybody about him, not even Mrs. Baxter. I just called her on her cell phone to ask.”

“Where’s Willa’s husband now?”

“Nobody knows. But here’s the thing…” Mike sat down next to her on the step and put his arm around her shoulders. “The bride spent four months in jail when her new husband, Jess Reiffer, used her as a lookout in a convenience store robbery.”

Hannah’s jaw dropped. She felt it go, and she quickly snapped her mouth shut again. She was right! Willa did have a secret! “Where was this?” she asked, angling for more information.

“Oregon. A town called McMinnville. It’s only about forty-five minutes or so from Portland. The day she was arrested, she got her one phone call and she used it to call her parents. They drove all the way to Oregon to line her up with a good attorney. But while her parents were in Oregon, they had a fatal auto accident, and both of them were killed.”

“Good heavens!” Hannah could barely believe her ears. Just when she was sure the story couldn’t get any worse for Willa, it did. “And Willa was still in jail?”

“That’s right. But her lawyers pulled out all the stops, and the charges against her were dropped. They convinced the judge she thought her husband had just gone inside to use the phone and she had no idea he was planning to rob the place.”

“What happened to her husband?”

“Oh, he was convicted. But since it wasn’t much money and he hadn’t used a weapon and no one was hurt, he was sentenced to only two years in jail.”

“So he’s out now?”

“That’s right. Actually, he’s been out for a while. He got his sentence reduced for good behavior, and he was released after fourteen months.”

Hannah thought about that for a moment. “Did Willa know he was out?”

“I have no idea. And I can’t question him, because nobody knows where he is. He served his time, and he’s a free man. He’s not accountable to anyone, so he could be anywhere.”

“Do you think Jess Reiffer is the man who killed her?” Hannah posed the question that was flashing like a beacon in her mind.

“Why would he kill her? She had a reason to kill him for nearly ruining her life, but he didn’t have any reason to kill her.”

“But…what if she tried to kill him and he killed her defending himself?”

“That didn’t happen. Doc Knight found no wounds to indicate a scenario like that. She wasn’t physically engaged with anyone that night, and Doc Knight’s conclusions go even further. He didn’t find any evidence of anticipation on her part.”

Hannah gave a little sigh. Why couldn’t they come right out and say it in plain English? But just in case she was misinterpreting what Mike had meant, she decided to ask for clarification.

“Are you saying that Willa didn’t know she was in any danger from her killer?”

“That’s right. The first blow came from behind, and it was fatal. The other blow, the one from the right side, was extraneous.”

Hannah shivered slightly. “So you were right.”

“About what?”

“On Tuesday night when you were talking to Norman at my place, you said you thought the second blow was just for insurance.”

“That’s right. At that point, she was already…” Mike stopped and sighed deeply. “She was already gone. At least she didn’t see it coming and she didn’t have time to be frightened. This guy is scum, Hannah. I really want to get him.”

“Me, too,” Hannah replied, letting him take that response any way he wished. It really didn’t make any difference to her which one of them caught Willa’s killer as long as he was tried, convicted, and spent the next hundred years or so in jail.

KITTY’S ORANGE CAKE

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F., rack in the middle position.

1 box yellow cake mix (1 pound, 2.25 ounces)

One package (3 ounces) orange Jell-O powder

(NOT sugar free)

1 cup orange juice

1 teaspoon orange extract

½ cup vegetable oil

1 teaspoon orange zest (optional—if you like it super orangey)

4 eggs

1 cup semi-sweet mini chocolate morsels[***] (6-ounce package—I used Nestles)

Grease and flour a Bundt pan. (I sprayed mine with Pam and then floured it.)

Hannah’s 1st Note: You can make this cake without an electric mixer if you have a strong arm and determination, but it’s a lot easier if you use one.

Dump the dry yellow cake mix in a large mixing bowl. Mix in the orange Jell-O powder. Add the orange juice, orange extract, vegetable oil, and the orange zest (if you decided to use it). Mix all the ingredients together until they are well blended.

Add the eggs one at a time, mixing after each addition.

Beat 2 minutes on medium speed with an electric mixer or 3 minutes by hand.

Fold in the mini chocolate morsels by hand.

Pour the cake batter into the Bundt pan.

Bake at 350 degrees F. for 45 to 55 minutes or until a cake tester inserted into the center of the cake comes out dry.

Cool on a rack for 20-25 minutes. Loosen the outside edges and the middle, and tip the cake out of the pan. Let the cake cool completely on the rack.

When the cake is cool, drizzle Orange-Fudge Frosting over the crest and let it run down the sides. (Or, if you don’t feel like making a glaze, just let the cake cool completely and dust it with confectioner’s sugar.)

Orange-Fudge Frosting:

2 Tablespoons chilled butter (¼ stick, 1/8 cup)

1 cup semi-sweet chocolate chips (6-ounce bag)

1 teaspoon orange extract

2 Tablespoons refrigerated orange juice

Place the butter in the bottom of a 2-cup microwave-safe bowl. (I used a glass one-pint measuring cup.) Add the chocolate chips. Heat on HIGH for 60 seconds.

Stir to see if the chips are melted. (They tend to maintain their shape even when melted, so you can’t tell by just looking.) If they’re not melted and can’t be stirred smooth, heat them on HIGH at 15-second intervals until they are, stirring to check after each 15-second interval.

Add the orange extract and stir it in.

Add the orange juice Tablespoon by Tablespoon, stirring after each addition.

Pour the frosting over the ridge of the cake, letting it run partway down the sides. It will be thicker on top. That’s fine. (And if it’s not, that’s fine, too—you really can’t go wrong with this cake.)

Refrigerate the cake without covering it, for at least 20 minutes before serving. That “sets” the frosting. After the 20-minute refrigeration, the cake can be left out at room temperature, if you wish.

Hannah’s 2nd Note: When I bake this cake for Mother, I use both the orange extract and the orange zest. Mother adores the combination of orange and chocolate. Come to think of it, Mother adores ANY combination that includes chocolate.

Chapter Twenty-Five

“Are you sure you have time?” Hannah asked Norman once they got back to her condo and Moishe had sampled her mother’s trout dinner and Norman had given him the realistic-looking mouse filled with fresh catnip that he’d picked up at the pet store. “I can search Willa’s desk alone if you want to hurry home to print the pictures you took today.”

Norman shook his head. He was staring down at Moishe and frowning a bit. “I’ll go with you. I’ve got the time, and you’ll need me to break into Willa’s desk.”

“That’s true. Do you have a dental pick with you?”

Norman laughed. “It’s not something I carry around in my wallet. But I’ve got a Swiss Army Knife. There’s bound to be something on there I can use.”

“Okay.” Hannah filled Moishe’s water dish with fresh water and tossed him a couple of salmon-flavored kitty treats that he probably wouldn’t eat. “Are you ready to go?”

“I’ll be ready as soon as I give you this and plug it in.” Norman pulled a box from the bag he’d carried into the condo and presented it to Hannah. “Here’s your new cell phone. I activated it at the store for you.”

“But…”

“No buts,” Norman interrupted her protest. “I’ll put it in the charger and plug it in, and it’ll be ready to go tomorrow morning. All you have to do is turn it on to make a call.”

Norman plugged in the phone and then he walked over to scratch Moishe behind the ears. As usual, Hannah’s feline roommate was sitting on the carpeted ledge Michelle had bought him, staring out the living room window. “He’s definitely losing weight, Hannah. I can almost feel his ribs. He took only one bite of your mother’s trout.”

“I know. And he’s not interested in treats or catnip, either. He batted that mouse for less than a minute, and then he went back to the window again.”

“I don’t think he really wanted to play with the mouse at all. He was just humoring me.” Norman waited for Hannah to lock the door behind them, and then he followed her down the outside stairs and took her arm as they walked down the path to the visitors’ parking lot.

Once they were in Norman’s car and headed toward the exit to her condo complex, Hannah picked up their discussion of Moishe. “I don’t think he’s sick. Dr. Bob says his blood work is just fine. Moishe’s just…preoccupied. He’s focused on something, and I can’t figure out what it is.”

“I tried to find out for you. I stood there and stared at the place he was staring the whole time you were changing clothes. And I didn’t see a thing except your neighbor’s windows. The shades were down, and absolutely nothing was happening.”

“Do you think there’s something out there?”

Norman considered that for a moment. “Call it a hunch, or instinct, or whatever, but I do. And whatever it is must be a lot more intriguing than trout or a catnip mouse.”

The school parking lot was eerie at night in the glow from the halogen lights that were stationed at intervals to protect the cars of teachers who were working late. Nothing was moving, but there was a large cluster of cars parked at the far end by the football field.

“What are all these cars doing here?” Norman asked, pulling up next to the back door to the home economics classroom.

“They’re resurfacing Gull Avenue tomorrow morning. And since it’s going to be blocked off from midnight tonight until midnight on Saturday, Mayor Bascomb arranged for the residents to use the school parking lot and drive out the back way.”

“How do you know all that?”

“Lisa told me. Herb’s going on patrol at midnight to knock on doors and ticket any cars on the street.”

The school loomed large and dark as they approached. Hannah gave a little start as they walked past the motion sensor and the high-wattage light mounted over the back door to Pam’s classroom went on. “Thanks, Norman,” she said.

“Thanks for what?”

“For being here. There’s no way I’d enjoy doing something like this alone. I keep thinking about all the bad thrillers I’ve ever seen on television, with big empty buildings and homicidal stalkers.”

“I wish you hadn’t said that.”

“Me, too.” Hannah drew a deep breath and waited for Norman to unlock the door. He’d just started to push it open when she heard what sounded like a crash from inside.

“What was that?” she gasped, grabbing his hand to hold him back.

“What was what?”

“Didn’t you hear that noise?”

“I heard something, but maybe it was just the air conditioner kicking in.”

“Jordan High doesn’t have air-conditioning.”

“Oh. Well…this door leads to the pantry, right?”

Hannah nodded, although she knew he couldn’t see it. “That’s right. It’s the door Pam uses for deliveries.”

“Maybe someone stacked something wrong and it fell.”

“Possibly,” Hannah said, even though she knew that things didn’t fall without provocation. It was one of the principles of inertia. She was sure that Norman knew it, too, but he was trying to reassure her. “Do you think we should go in?”

Norman considered that for a moment. “Yeah. I’ll go first, and you come right behind me. We’ll leave the outside door open, and if there’s something wrong, you turn and run straight to the car. Take my keys.”

Hannah was about to object when Norman pressed the keys into her hand. She opened her mouth to tell him that there was no way she’d leave him to face any kind of threat alone when she reconsidered. He wanted to protect her. His ego was at stake.

“Okay?” Norman prompted for an answer.

“Okay,” Hannah said, bowing to the centuries-old tradition of letting someone who wanted to be stronger take the lead. And if she were being completely honest with herself, she felt pretty good about it. Norman wanted to protect her. That was the important thing. Whether she needed protection or not was another matter for another time.

“Lights are to the right of the door,” Hannah said, remembering the last time she’d come in through the back door.

“Okay.”

With Norman leading the way, they entered the pantry. Once the lights were on and the area was illuminated with a burst of pseudosunlight from the fluorescent bulbs overhead, Hannah glanced around at the pantry shelves. Everything was lined up just the way she remembered. The spices were at the end, the canned goods arranged by food group on the shelves, and the bulky items like flour and sugar stored at waist height at the other end.

“Everything looks all right to me,” she told Norman.

“Me, too.”

“Let’s go in, then.” Hannah moved up behind Norman as he approached the door to the classroom. “Lights are on the left.”

“Got it.” Norman flicked on the lights in the classroom, and both of them immediately saw the reason for the noise that Hannah had heard. One of the chairs near the door to the hallway was tipped over on its back.

“Somebody was here,” Norman said.

“Somebody or something,” Hannah added. “Hold on.”

Since she’d used this classroom only months ago for her adult class, Hannah remembered where the kitchen utensils were kept. She pulled open a drawer near the first kitchen pod, pulled out a rolling pin, and handed it to Norman. A moment later, she had a second rolling pin in her hand. “Okay. Let’s make sure we’re alone in here.”

With both of them walking the rows of desks, it didn’t take long to discover that they were, indeed, the only occupants of the home economics classroom. The intruder, if there’d been one, had left.

“All clear,” Norman said, putting down his rolling pin. “We don’t need these anymore.”

“Not right now, but I think I’ll keep mine handy until I go shut that outside door.”

“I’ll do it.”

“Okay. Take your rolling pin with you. On your way back, you can drop it off on the counter in kitchen number one.”

While Norman shut the outside door, Hannah checked the classroom door to the hallway. It was shut, but not locked. She opened it, rolling pin at the ready, and went out to look down the hallway. Even by the dim lights that were left on at night, she could see that it was completely deserted. By the time she went back in and closed and locked the door behind her, Norman was back and they headed for the desk that Willa had used under the windows.

“Let me see what kind of a lock it is,” Norman said, tugging on one of the drawers. It slid open, almost knocking him back, and both of them just stared at it.

“Pam said Willa always locked her desk,” Hannah said.

“Well, it’s not locked now.” Norman pulled out the drawer beneath the one he’d opened, and then he tried the drawers on the other side. They all slid open, even the long, shallow center drawer.

“Do you think someone broke in?”

“Doesn’t look like it. I don’t see any scratch marks, and all the wood is intact.”

“But Pam told me there was only one key. And Willa had that.”

“Where it is now?”

“I don’t know. Mike told Pam to change the locks on her basement apartment because Willa’s keys weren’t recovered from the crime scene.”

Norman thought about that for a moment. “Then I guess we can assume that the killer has them, the killer threw them away and someone else has them, or someone found Willa before you did and took her keys.”

“You forgot one.”

“One what?”

“One other possibility. Willa could have lost her keys earlier in the day and someone found them.”

“But how would that someone know to come here and look through her desk?”

That stymied Hannah for a moment, but then she recovered. “Maybe Willa’s name was on her key ring. Or maybe someone stole her keys from her purse for some reason.”

“What reason? She wasn’t wealthy, there probably wasn’t anything valuable in her desk, and why would they go to the trouble of snatching her keys without taking her whole purse? It’s a dead end.”

“It’s a cul-de-sac,” Hannah corrected him. “You just turn around and go back to something you passed by before.”

“And that is….?”

“The killer or the person who found Willa’s body before I did.”

“My money’s on the killer,” Norman said.

“Mine, too. Let’s search the desk and get out of here. I’m getting a really bad feeling, and it’s getting harder and harder to convince myself that it’s all in my imagination.”

They were silent for long moments as they went through the desk. Norman started with the drawers on the right side, and Hannah took the drawers on the left. Norman found Willa’s college transcripts, some lesson plans she’d written for Pam, and a whole folder of recipes. Hannah found printouts of e-mail messages from Gordon Tate, confirming meetings at the campus coffee shop, dates for dinner, or simply hello-how-are-yous. The tone of the messages was more friendly than intimate, and Hannah could understand why Pam had doubted the passion in Willa and Gordon’s relationship.

They reached for the center drawer and smiled as they met there. They’d both finished their side drawers at the same time.

“Only one place left,” Norman said.

“I know. So far, we’ve struck out. Let’s hope there’s something here.”

And there was something. They both saw it at the same time. Sitting in the exact center of the otherwise empty center drawer was a small album with a red enamel cover. The cover had a word stamped in gold on the front, and both of them bent down to read it. It said, “Photos,” in script so fancy it was almost indecipherable.

“After you,” Norman said.

“Thanks.” Hannah reached for the album and opened it. The first photo was a picture of an older couple leaning against the fence of a corral. “They’re probably Willa’s parents,” Hannah said.

“And that must be a favorite horse,” Norman guessed when Hannah turned the page.

“Right,” Hannah said, flipping to the next picture. It was Willa astride what appeared to be the same horse. There were several similar pictures, one of the older man they’d identified as Willa’s father on another horse, and one of the older woman standing in front of a stove.

“Nice ranch,” Norman commented as Hannah flipped through several photos of the house, pastures, and horse barn. And then they came to the last photo.

“What in the world…?” Hannah stared down at the picture of Willa in what she assumed was her wedding dress. There was no veil, but it was certainly fancy enough to wear to a wedding. It was a professional photo of the happy couple, and Willa did look happy. But the groom who had stood at her side was missing, cut cleanly off with a scissors.

“Do you think this was a picture of Jess Reiffer?” Norman asked.

“Yes,” Hannah answered. She’d told Norman everything she’d learned from Mike on their way to the school.

“And do you think the noise you heard before I opened the door was Jess Reiffer cutting himself out of this picture?” Norman took things a step further. “Or is that too farfetched?”

“I guess it could have been Jess Reiffer, but that doesn’t make a whole lot of sense. He had no reason to kill Willa. And why would he track her down just to cut himself out of their wedding picture?”

“Good point. But you still think the noise you heard was Willa’s killer searching her desk?”

“That’s my guess. And if he took something, it’s gone. And since we don’t know what was in here in the first place, we can’t even guess what it was.” Hannah dropped the photo album in her shoulder bag and stood up.

“Ready to go?” Norman asked.

“Oh, yes.” Hannah picked up her rolling pin and gripped it tightly. “Get your rolling pin on the way out, okay? I can return them to Pam tomorrow.”

“Good idea. It never hurts to be ready.”

Hannah did her best to keep from wondering how much damage a rolling pin could do to a determined killer and gave Norman a smile. “That’s right. You never know when you’ll have to roll out a piecrust.”

Hannah locked her door and buckled her seatbelt. They’d seen absolutely nothing out-of-the-way in the parking lot, and they’d arrived at Norman’s car without incident. “He’s probably long gone.”

“Probably. If you’re right and he got whatever he came for, there’s no reason for him to stick around.”

Not unless he thinks I’m closing in on him, Hannah thought, but she didn’t say it. It would be counterproductive to make the driver nervous. They’d been in Pam’s classroom for at least twenty minutes. Willa’s killer was probably across the Winnetka County line by now.

“Home?” Norman asked, pulling out of the parking lot and onto Gull Avenue.

“Yes.” Hannah took a deep breath and prepared to ask for another favor. “I know you’re really busy and you want to print those photographs tonight, but do you think you’ll be on your computer?”

Norman laughed. “I have to be on my computer. That’s where I download the photos. And that’s how I print them.”

“Oh. Well…do you think you might be able to e-mail someone for me?”

“I can do that. And then I can hook up your computer this weekend so that you can discover the joys of cyberspace for yourself.”

Hannah gave a little groan. “I’m sorry, Norman. I should have hooked it up weeks ago. It’s just that I’ve been so busy, and I’m trying to decide just where to put it, and…”

“You’re resisting,” Norman interrupted her. “Some people have to be dragged kicking and screaming into the twenty-first century.”

“It’s the twenty-first century?” Hannah acted shocked. But then, before their good-natured kidding could go on, she noticed headlights in the rearview mirror. “There’s a car behind us, and it’s coming up fast.”

“I know. I’ve been watching it for a couple of blocks, now. Is your seatbelt fastened?”

“Yes.”

“Good. I want you to hang on. We’re going to make a few sharp turns.”

Hannah braced herself as Norman took a hard left onto Third Street. She’d never been in a car that went around the corner on two wheels before, and she did all she could do not to scream. But just when she was recovering from the first turn, Norman made another hard left onto Maple.

Hannah felt the breath whoosh from her lungs. Her life hadn’t quite flashed before her eyes, but it was close.

It was the screeching left onto Fourth Street that did it. Hannah was sure she was going to die in a fiery wreck. And then Norman took another hard left that put them back on Gull Avenue, and before Hannah had even caught her breath, he pulled into someone’s driveway, cut the engine, and flicked off the lights.

“What are you…?” Hannah gasped out.

“Duck.” Norman reached over, then pushed her down in the seat. “He missed that first turn, so it’ll take him a minute to catch up.”

“You…you mean the…the car that was following…?”

“Yes.” Norman interrupted her attempt to ask an intelligent question. “He should be coming around the corner of Fourth and Gull any second now.”

Hannah’s window was down an inch or so, and she listened for the sound of a car. For a breathless moment, all she heard was the sound of crickets in the grass next to the driveway and two cats yowling somewhere in the distance. She was about to tell Norman that they must have lost him when she heard the sound of an engine.

“There he is. Stay down,” Norman warned her. “If we’re lucky, he’ll think he’s still behind us and keep on going.”

Hannah shut her eyes and did her version of positive thinking. Keep on going, we’re ahead of you. Keep on going, we’re ahead of you, she chanted in her mind. And then she risked a glance. Her silent suggestion must have worked because the car kept on going right past the driveway where they were hiding and on down the street.

“Did you see him?” she asked Norman, wondering if he’d also risked a peek.

“Yes. Lone driver. Looked like a man to me,” Norman said, turning on the engine and backing out of the driveway. “Is that what you saw?”

He knows me too well, Hannah thought. But she said, “What makes you think I looked?”

“We both put our heads up at the same time. I saw you. It’s a good thing he wasn’t looking at my car.”

“You’re right,” Hannah said, agreeing completely. “And I saw the same thing you did. Do you think we ought to tell Mike?”

“Tell him what? That we think someone followed us from the school, but we don’t have a description or a license plate?”

Hannah thought about that for a moment. “Guess not,” she concluded, and then she changed the subject. “You know how people who’re about to die say that their lives flash before their eyes?”

“I’ve heard that.”

“Well, mine almost did.”

Norman was silent for a moment and then he reached out to take her hand. “You were never in any danger, Hannah. There’s no way I’d risk your life.”

“I wasn’t?”

“No. Every turn I made was carefully calculated.”

Hannah wasn’t sure that made her feel any better, but she nodded. “Okay. I believe you. How did you learn to do that?”

“Do what?”

“Drive like that. You took those corners at just the right speed. Any faster and we would have wiped out. Any slower and he might have caught up to us.”

“Oh, that,” Norman said, shrugging slightly. “I used to race when I was in college.”

“You mean…professionally?”

“Yes. It was only two years, though. When I started out, I was on the pit crew. Did you know that I can change a tire in ninety-three seconds flat?”

“No…”

“Well, I can. I’ll show you if we ever have a flat. You don’t mind if I take you back to the condo by a different route, do you? I think it might be safer, just in case he’s still out there.”

“I don’t mind at all.”

The moon was almost full, and Hannah stared at Norman all the way back to her condo. A race car driver! Norman was full of surprises. Just when she thought she knew him as well as anyone could know anyone else, he threw her a curveball.

Chapter Twenty-Six

“Will you be all right alone?” Norman asked, standing just inside the door to the condo.

“I’ll be fine. Nobody can drive in without a gate card.”

“Unless they drive through that flimsy plywood arm at the entrance. Or park outside and walk in.”

“True, but no one followed us here. You checked.”

Norman stood there for a moment, clearly undecided. And then he sighed. “Okay. But turn on the alarm system after I leave. It’ll make me feel a whole lot better about leaving you here.”

“I will. I promise,” Hannah said, wondering if she remembered how to do it or whether she’d have to look for the instruction sheet.

“All right, then. I’ll see you in the…” Norman stopped speaking and started to frown. “Look at Moishe! He sees something outside that window. I’m sure of it!”

“Me, too. Or maybe he just hears another animal or a person. Whatever it is, it’s out there and he’s reacting to it.”

They moved together to the window. Hannah stared out into the darkness, but she saw nothing moving. “Do you see anything?” she asked.

“No, but maybe it’s something small that we’re not noticing, like a field mouse or a snake.”

“That must be it,” Hannah agreed, moving away from the window again and leaving her cat to keep watch.

“Where were we?” Norman asked her, walking to the door again.

“You were about to kiss me goodnight.”

“I was?”

“Oh, yes. At least twice.”

Norman chuckled and pulled her into his arms. And then he exceeded her suggestion by at least a half-dozen kisses. When he let her go and opened the door, Hannah swayed slightly on her feet. Norman definitely knew how to kiss!

Hannah stepped out onto the landing with him, and they were just sharing a final kiss when she heard voices below.

“Sorry,” Michelle called out. “We didn’t mean to interrupt you.”

Hannah turned to see Michelle coming up the stairs, followed by Andrea. Both of them were grinning, and Hannah knew they’d seen her kissing Norman.

“I was just leaving,” Norman said, heading down the stairs. “I’ve got pictures to print tonight.”

“Will you let me know how the one you took of Tracey and me turns out?” Andrea asked.

“It’ll be great. You’re remarkably photogenic, and so is Tracey. And that one of you should be really good, Michelle. You’re photogenic, too.”

Perhaps her two sisters weren’t aware of the omission, but Hannah was. As Norman went down the stairs and her sisters climbed up, Hannah gave a little sigh. She was always the odd sister out. If there was something she was not, it was photogenic, and everyone who’d ever tried to take her picture knew she was about as far from camera-friendly as a person could get. The picture Norman had taken of her at The Cookie Jar, the photo that had won first prize in the photography exhibit and now hung over Mike’s couch, had been nothing short of remarkable, a stroke of good fortune that might not happen again in her lifetime.

As she opened the door and ushered her sisters in, Hannah thought about the picture of her that Norman had taken this afternoon. It would also be remarkable, but in the negative sense of the word. The purple dress would clash spectacularly with her red hair.

“What’s wrong, Hannah?” Michelle asked, as they entered the living room.

“Just thinking,” Hannah said, leaving it at that. There was absolutely nothing she could do to change the picture of her that Rod would run on the front page of the Lake Eden Journal on Sunday. The deed was done. The dress had been worn. And if she could somehow rewind her day to the point where Marge, Jack, and Lisa had spread all the dresses out on the work island and asked her to pick one, she’d probably choose the purple taffeta all over again. It had been worth it to see the smile on Lisa’s dad’s face.

“So there was something out there, after all!” Hannah gave Moishe a scratch behind his ears and a chicken-flavored treat for hearing Michelle and Andrea drive in and watching for them to come up the stairs.

“He heard us?” Michelle sounded amazed.

“He heard something, and that’s good enough for me. Coffee?”

It was a silly question to ask a family of coffee drinkers, so Hannah didn’t wait for an answer. She just went to the kitchen and put on the coffee. Then she sliced the rest of Sue Plotnik’s orange cake, arranged it on a plate, and carried everything out to the living room, where Andrea and Michelle were waiting for her.

“So what brings you out tonight?” Hannah asked Andrea.

“You said you’d tell me everything you found out later. This is later.”

Hannah took a huge swig of her coffee, even though it was only a few degrees short of scalding. She was too low on sleep, too high on caffeine, too much had happened today, and her brain was spinning too fast. She needed a minute or two of downtime to recover, or she’d never be able to keep things straight.

“Give me just a minute,” she said, putting her coffee down and heading for the bathroom sink. Splashing cold water on her face might help. It wouldn’t help as much as a full eight-hours’ sleep, but it might be enough.

The cold water was a shock, and she relished it. Perhaps she should have offered to take the late shift at the Lake Eden Historical Society Booth tonight. Then Bernie No-No Fulton could have pitched at the bull’s eye and dunked her awake.

“Are you okay?” Michelle asked when she came back into the living room.

“No, but I’m better. I haven’t seen you since this morning, is that right?”

“That’s right.”

Hannah turned to Andrea. “And I haven’t seen you since right after the judging, but you didn’t have time to talk then. Is that right?”

“That’s right.”

“Okay. Here’s what I learned today that neither one of you knows about.”

Hannah started at the beginning and told them about climbing in the magic cabinet and overhearing the two cowboys talking.

“And they really thought Tucker tried to kill the clown?” Andrea asked.

“They sounded as if they meant it to me! According to them, it’s a rivalry over the owner’s daughter, Brianna. She used to date Curly, the clown, before Tucker joined the show.”

“I heard that one of the clowns was hurt at the rodeo,” Michelle said. “But the girl who told me about it thought it was an accident.”

“That’s because it looked like an accident. It happened during the Brahma bull riding competition. The two cowboys thought Tucker got thrown on purpose to put Curly in danger.”

Andrea began to frown. “But wouldn’t that be hard to do?”

“I don’t know enough about rodeos to know. But they sounded so convincing, Norman and I went to see Curly in the hospital.”

Both sisters put down their coffee mugs and leaned forward. “What did you find out?” Michelle asked.

“I asked Curly some questions, but he was on a ventilator so he couldn’t talk. I had to use questions he could answer by nodding and shaking his head. He nodded yes when I asked him if he thought Tucker tried to kill him. And he nodded yes again, when I asked him if he’d been looking into Tucker’s background. Then I asked him whether he’d found anything that would make Tucker want to kill him, but the sedative Doc Knight gave him knocked him out before he could answer.”

“You have to talk to him again.” Andrea looked worried. “If Tucker tried to kill him once, he’ll try again.”

“If Tucker tried to kill him,” Michelle pointed out. “We don’t know that for sure. All we know is that Curly thought he did.”

“You’re both right. Doc Knight said he’d call me when Curly’s out of surgery, and I’ll go right out there to talk to him again. But that’s not all that happened today. After Norman and I came back from the hospital, we went to the food court to grab a bite to eat. I saw Mary Adamczak there.”

“Oh, good!” Andrea said, looking relieved. “I went to her house this afternoon, but she wasn’t home.”

“Right. Well, both Marys were at the food court.”

Andrea looked puzzled. “Both Marys?”

“Mary Lou Adamczak and Mary Kay Adamczak. Mary Lou is the one who won all the first place ribbons. Mary Kay is her daughter-in-law. Since Mary Lou hurt her stirring arm, Mary Lou used her recipe and entered the baked goods contest for the first time this year. She won an honorable mention, and they’re all delighted about it.”

“Cross her off the list as a suspect?” Michelle asked.

“That’s right. And we can cross off Mr. Hicks, too. Marge Beeseman knows the family, and Mr. Hicks has been in a wheelchair for the past two months. He broke his leg, and he still can’t stand on it. Since I saw Willa’s killer running away, there’s no way it could have been him.”

“It’s not Lyle Mortensen, either,” Michelle said.

“Who?” both Hannah and Andrea asked, a half-beat apart.

Michelle laughed. “You two sound like you have an echo. Lyle Mortensen is the home ec student Willa flunked.”

“Right.” Hannah pulled out her notebook and wrote down his name. “And where was he when Willa was killed?”

“In Minneapolis watching Toxic Thompson trounce the Racine Ripper.”

“Huh?” Hannah just stared at her youngest sister.

“It’s professional wrestling. Lyle’s dad works with Toxic’s father, and they go to every match. The kids went along this time. There’s no way Lyle could have killed Willa. They didn’t get back here until midnight.”

Hannah looked down the list of suspects and zeroed in on another name. “I’m waiting for more information, but I think Gordon Tate is out.”

“Who?” Michelle asked.

“Willa’s former boyfriend. He’s an archaeology professor at Tri-County, and he’s been on a dig in Mexico. Norman’s trying to communicate with him by e-mail.”

“So he’s out of the country and he couldn’t have done it?” Andrea asked.

“I’m waiting for confirmation on that. He’s not eliminated, not until we know for sure he didn’t fly back here, but it’s really unlikely.”

“So who do we have who’s still in the running?” Michelle asked.

“The new boyfriend we don’t know about, the one she got all dressed up for,” Hannah said.

“But who is he?” Andrea asked.

“I don’t know. And then there’s the burglar, the one who broke into the office at the fairgrounds.”

“And we don’t know who he is either,” Michelle reminded them. “I talked to Lonnie about it tonight, and he told me there’s been no break in the case. How about the picture I showed around this morning to the 4-H kids? Did any of them tell you anything?”

“Yes. One of the kids came to see me today with his parents. I can’t tell you who they were, because I promised to keep it confidential. It seems the boy saw Willa with a cowboy from the rodeo on Monday night and again on Tuesday, shortly before she was murdered. Unfortunately, he didn’t get a good look at the cowboy’s face.”

“Do you think the cowboy is the boyfriend she got all dressed up for?” Andrea asked.

“Could be,” Hannah said, squelching her desire to correct her sister’s sentence structure. “Or it could be the boyfriend is someone else entirely. That’s still up for grabs.”

“How about Willa’s apartment?” Michelle reminded them. “Did you find anything interesting there?”

Andrea sighed. “Not much. The only thing was a florist’s card she saved. It said, Yesterday and Today, Tomorrow and Forever.”

“It was stuck in a hardcover copy of Gone With the Wind, along with an orchid that probably came from a corsage,” Hannah added. “It must have been important to her, or she wouldn’t have saved it.”

“I ran into Pam and she said she gave you the keys to the school so you could search Willa’s desk,” Michelle said. “Do you want us to help you do it?”

“It’s already done. Norman went with me.” Hannah made a unilateral decision not to tell them about the car they’d outrun. They’d only worry, and that would do no one any good.

“The only thing we found that was the least bit interesting was a little photo album,” she went on, retrieving it from her purse and handing it to Michelle.

“I’ve got one exactly like that, except it’s black,” Andrea commented, looking over Michelle’s shoulder.

Hannah bit her lips to keep silent. Now was not the time to point out that one thing could not be exactly like another with a difference. “Take a look at the last picture.”

“There’s Willa in a white satin gown,” Michelle identified it. “It looks almost like the one I wore for the evening gown competition. But it’s only half there. Somebody cut off Willa’s date. You can see his arm around her, but the rest of him is missing.”

“Willa probably did it,” Andrea said, sounding very certain.

“But why would she do that?” Michelle asked.

“It’s simple. Remember when I went to the junior prom with Benton Woodley?” Andrea waited until they nodded, and then she continued. “After we broke up, I cut him out of our prom picture. Willa could have done something like that.”

“I agree,” Hannah said, “but I think it’s her wedding picture and she cut off Jess Reiffer. I certainly couldn’t blame her for that!”

The total shock on both of her sisters’ faces made Hannah groan. “I didn’t tell you that Willa was married?”

Two heads shook in tandem, and Hannah went on. “And you don’t know that she sold Mother the silver champagne glasses from her wedding?”

Again the two heads, one blond and one light brunette, shook in tandem.

“Or that Willa spent four months in jail in Oregon?”

The heads started to shake again, but then Michelle spoke up. “When did you learn all this?”

“Today. If one of you will get me another mug of coffee, I’ll tell you all about it.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

“Tell me why we’re doing this again,” Hannah said as Andrea pulled up in front of “Digger” Gibson’s mortuary.

“We’re doing it because the flower shop at the mall is closed,” Andrea explained. “And if we come in without flowers, they’ll think we’re just trying to pump them for information about the identity of the cowboy who was seen with Willa on the night she was murdered, and whether Tucker really attempted to kill Curly or not.”

“We are trying to pump them for information.”

“I know that and you know that, but we don’t want them to know that.”

“And what happens if they ask us who the flowers are for?” Hannah posed another question.

“We’ll have a name by that time.” Andrea sounded very confident as she opened her car door. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

“I just don’t believe she’s doing this,” Hannah groaned, watching as her sister walked up the sidewalk and rang the bell to Digger’s apartment over the mortuary.

“Neither do I. You know what to do when we get to the hospital, don’t you?”

Hannah nodded. “You and Andrea will keep the charge nurse busy, and I’ll get a look at the patient list. Lake Eden isn’t that big. We’re bound to know somebody in the hospital.”

“Right. And then?”

“We carry the flowers to the waiting room and pretend we’re waiting to see someone. And then we do what we came for in the first place, which is to pump whoever’s there for information about Curly and Tucker.”

“Right. Here comes Andrea with Digger.” Michelle stared out the window. “It looks like he’s laughing! I don’t think I’ve ever seen Digger laugh before.”

“That’s because the only time you see him is at funerals. I’m sure he laughs in private.”

“Really?”

Hannah thought about the dour-faced undertaker and shrugged. “Well…maybe not. But he could be like the concert pianist who moonlights on a keyboard in a rock band. For all we know, Digger’s a standup comic in his off-hours.”

They’d just gone over the plan again when Andrea came back to the car. “Hold these, will you?” she half asked, half ordered, thrusting a small vase filled with flowers into Hannah’s hands.

“Very pretty,” Hannah said, glancing down at the bouquet.

“We took one stem from each arrangement,” Andrea explained as she slid in behind the wheel. “Digger didn’t want anyone to suspect that we’d taken part of the funeral flowers.”

“No lilies, I see,” Hannah noted.

“No. Digger thought maybe that would raise some questions. He said lilies were traditional funeral flowers. Except on Easter, people don’t usually bring lilies to patients in the hospital.”

Andrea drove out of town and soon they were on the road to Lake Eden Memorial Hospital. In less than ten minutes they were pulling up in the section reserved for hospital visitors.

“Looks like Curly has some friends here,” Michelle said, pointing to the car next to them. “That car’s got a Great Northwestern Rodeo and Carnival sticker on the window.”

Hannah glanced at the pickup truck on the other side. It also had a Great Northwestern sticker. “This truck has one, too. Does everybody know who to zero in on?”

“I take the owner’s daughter Brianna, if she’s here,” Michelle said. “I’m closer to her age and she might talk to me. I’ll try to get her alone and away from Tucker.”

“And I’ll take Tucker,” Hannah said. Then she turned to Andrea. “You’d better take Brianna’s father, Sam Webber. He owns the show.”

“Okay. What shall I ask him?”

“Find out if he thinks there was bad blood between Tucker and Curly. That’s what the two cowboys said. That might be hard to do.”

“Yes, but I’ll figure out a way. Anything else?”

“Try to find out if any of his cowboys knew Willa. That’ll probably be tricky. And if you finish that, ask him questions about the show. That ought to distract him from what Michelle and I are doing.”

“Got it,” Andrea said.

“Me, too,” Michelle agreed, opening her door and getting out. “Are you still tired, Hannah?”

“Oh, yes. Actually, I now know for sure that I’m a couple of light years past tired.”

“How do you know that?” Andrea asked.

“I know because this whole crazy plan is starting to make perfect sense to me.”

“Three choices,” Hannah told them as they walked down the hall. “Calvin Janowski’s in for a tonsillectomy, Ed Barthel is having a hip replacement, and Dot Truman Larson’s in labor with her first baby.”

“Not Calvin,” Andrea said. “Nobody would believe we came here at almost eleven at night to visit a first grader.”

“Good point. Ed Barthel? His wife is in Mother’s quilting club.”

“That’s a possibility,” Michelle agreed.

“I vote for Dot Truman Larson. If it’s her first baby, it could take a while.”

“You’re right,” Andrea said.

“My vote’s for Dot, too,” Michelle agreed. “All three of us know her, and we went to her wedding last summer.”

“There’s only one problem,” Hannah reminded them, heading down the hall to the large waiting room.

“What’s that?” Michelle asked.

“There’s a separate maternity waiting room. If we came to see Dot’s first baby, why aren’t we there?”

“Because her husband’s there with all his relatives, and it’s crowded,” Andrea offered a possible explanation.

“Good enough for me,” Hannah said, rounding the corner and stopping so suddenly her two sisters nearly plowed into her.

“What is it?” Andrea asked.

“The cowboys I overheard this afternoon are in the waiting room.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Michelle asked.

“They might recognize me.”

“Hold it.” Andrea took Hannah by the arms and pulled her back a couple of paces. “I thought you were in the magic cabinet at the time.”

“Oh, I was.”

“And you didn’t say a word, or make any noise?” Michelle asked.

“That’s right.”

“Then how could they possibly recognize you?” Andrea questioned her.

Hannah shook her head like a dog coming out of Eden Lake. Logic seemed to have deserted her, and she wondered whether she’d be able to question Curly. “Coffee?” she asked.

“We passed the alcove with complimentary self-serve coffee. I’ll go back and get you some.” Michelle hurried off. Several moments later she was back with a Styrofoam cup of coffee. “Drink this,” she said. “It’ll help.”

Hannah took a sip and grimaced. Although she seriously doubted that anything that tasted like paint thinner could deliver the necessary caffeine to her exhausted brain, she drank it down in three gulps.

“Okay,” she said. “Let’s go.”

“Did it help?” Andrea wanted to know.

“I think so. My eyelids felt as if they were weighted down with quarters before, and now the quarters feel like dimes.”

“That’s good enough for me,” Michelle said.

“Me, too,” Andrea agreed. “I’ll take the flowers. You might drop them.”

“Do you want to interview Tucker?” Hannah asked, something she never would have done if she’d been less exhausted.

“No. You’re better than I am with guys who swagger and think every woman out there will fall in their laps if they snap their fingers. I’d slap him silly if he said anything sexist to me.”

That remark caused Hannah’s eyelids to experience an unscheduled lift. “Do you know him?”

“Not personally, but I saw him at the rodeo that first afternoon. Tracey wanted to go, so I took her. She didn’t like Tucker, either. She said, That cowboy’s really full of himself. He thinks he’s something and that means he’s not.”

Hannah was impressed. Her eldest niece was a good judge of character. For that matter, so was Andrea. “Okay. I’ll take Tucker.”

“Good.” Andrea gave her a little hug. “Give him your best shot, and Michelle and I will let you sleep all the way home.”

The coffee had done it. Or perhaps it was the sludge in the bottom of the cup. Hannah didn’t even want to think about how that had tasted, so she crooked her finger at Michelle to follow her and headed straight for the long row of chairs that held the youngest couple in the room.

“Do you mind if we sit here?” Hannah asked, not even considering what she’d do if they said they’d mind. But they shook their heads, and Hannah and Michelle took up their positions. Hannah sat next to the cowboy, and Michelle sat down next to the girl who was the very picture of youth and innocence.

“I hope you’re not here for something really serious,” Hannah said to the cowboy, knowing full well why he was here.

“Serious enough,” he said, sighing a bit. “I’m from the rodeo. One of the clowns was injured, and we’re all here waiting for news.”

“He’s in the operating room,” the young girl explained. “The doctor said somebody would come out and tell us how Curly was doing, but we’ve been here for an hour, and nobody’s told us anything.”

“Then let’s go try to find out something.” Michelle stood up and held out her hand. “I’m just here because my friend’s having a baby, but I know some of the nurses. Maybe they’ll tell us something.”

“That’d be great!” the girl said, practically jumping to her feet. She turned to the cowboy Hannah assumed was Tucker. “Do you want to come along?”

“Better not,” Hannah told him.

“Why not?”

“Because the nurses aren’t supposed to give out any information, and they’ll clam up if too many people ask. They don’t want to get in trouble, you know?”

“Oh. Well…go ahead then, Bri.”

As the girl she’d pegged for Brianna bent down to kiss the guy she’d nailed as Tucker, Hannah gave a little smile. She might be exhausted and not thinking straight, but so far she was batting a thousand. Even though the waiting room was crowded, she’d correctly identified their two interview subjects.

She waited until Michelle had left with Brianna, and then she turned to Tucker. Andrea and Tracey had described him perfectly. Although he was sitting, Hannah knew he’d swagger when he walked, and he looked about as full of himself as a man could get. He had a face that was movie cowboy handsome, tousled blond hair that looked as if he’d just ducked his head under the pump in front of the bunkhouse to wash off the dust of the trail, and a twang in his voice that would make Howdy, Li’l Lady sound authentic. She could see how someone like Willa, who’d had the same air of innocence about her as Brianna did, would be attracted to someone excessively self-assured like Tucker.

“Is something wrong?” Tucker asked, startling her out of her thoughts.

“No. Just thinking about how nice it would be if they’d put cots in here instead of chairs.”

“Oh, yeah?”

Hannah saw his face brighten and realized that he was looking at her appraisingly. She’d really put her foot in her mouth with that remark! She could try to explain herself, or she could let it go.

“I think I saw you at a roping demonstration the other day,” she said, going for the second option.

“Could’ve been me. I go along with the other guys sometimes.”

“I’m almost sure it was you. You did an incredible thing jumping in and out of a loop you were twirling, and the 4-H students were absolutely amazed.”

Tucker began to smile. “I figured they thought I was good. I got more applause than the other guys.”

He was just as conceited as Andrea had thought, and she decided to lay it on even thicker. “Oh, you were good all right! They all want to be cowboys, you know, especially famous rodeo cowboys like you. You’re Tucker Smith, the star of the show, aren’t you?”

“That’s me. But I wouldn’t say I was the star of the show. Maybe on a good day, but not all the time.”

You’re so egotistical, you think that’s being humble, Hannah thought, but all the while she managed to keep the admiring smile on her face. She was getting a lot better at duplicity. Perhaps it had something to do with practice. “Did you know the clown who was injured?”

“Yes.” Tucker put on an appropriately serious expression. “He’s my best friend.”

That’s not what I heard, Hannah thought. But she said, “It must be awful sitting here waiting to see if he’s going to be all right.”

“It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Curly and I are close. Real close.”

And the lies are getting deep in here. Real deep. Hannah took a deep breath and plunged in. “Everything that’s happened makes you wonder if some places are just plain unlucky, doesn’t it?”

Tucker looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”

“I mean the Tri-County Fair has been plagued by misfortune this year. First it was that poor woman killed on the midway, and now it’s your best friend winding up here in the hospital. I bet you’ll be glad to move on.”

“Yeah. You could say that.”

“Did you know the woman who was killed?”

Tucker looked startled. “How would I know her? She wasn’t with the show.”

“I just thought maybe you ran into her. Her name was Willa Sunquist, and she was a judge on the baked goods panel.”

“Oh. Well…I might have seen her, but I don’t remember.”

“She was also the beauty contest chaperone.”

“Maybe I did see her, then. Some lady brought the girls over to the arena to pose for pictures with us.”

Hannah knew she was spinning her wheels. If Tucker had known Willa, he wasn’t about to admit it. She’d try another tack. “I really hope your friend is going to be all right.”

“Me, too.”

“I’m almost glad I didn’t get to the rodeo this afternoon. It must have been awful. Did you see what happened?”

Tucker nodded. “I saw it. I was the cowboy riding the Brahma bull.”

“You mean…you were right there when it happened?”

“That’s right, Li’l Lady. I got thrown, and Curly put himself in harm’s way to protect me from the bull.”

“Oh, my!” Hannah pretended to be shocked. “I’ll bet you feel terribly guilty about it.”

“Oh, I do. I really do. I wish it had never happened. You don’t know how many times I went over it in my mind, wondering if I could have done something to help him. It was horrible, just horrible!”

Hannah did her best not to react. As far as she was concerned, Tucker was about as phony as a six-dollar bill.

“I’ve never had anybody protect me like that before. I know rodeo clowns are supposed to protect the riders, but Curly went that extra mile for me. I want everyone to know what a wonderful man he was…” Tucker stopped and looked stricken. “What a wonderful man he is. I’ve got to think positive on this, Li’l Lady. Curly’s going to be all right. He just has to be!”

Their conversation deteriorated from that point on. Hannah asked him how he came to join the rodeo, and he told her about growing up in Wyoming and how his dad had taught him to ride. He was just talking about the first time he competed in a rodeo when a familiar voice interrupted them.

“Well, well, well. Look who we have here.”

Hannah turned to see Mike walking over to them. “Hannah Swensen. And there’s Andrea over there. What are you two doing here?”

Hannah’s heart dropped down to her toes. She’d been caught in the act of interrogating a suspect by the very person who’d told her not to get involved. But she did have a cover story.

“Hi, Mike,” she said. “We came over to see if Dot had her baby yet.”

“Then shouldn’t you be in maternity?”

“We were, but the waiting room was too crowded. All of her husband’s relatives were there.”

“I see,” Mike said, but he didn’t look convinced. “And you’re here talking to…” Mike turned to look at Tucker. “…Tucker, isn’t it?”

“That’s right. And you’re…?”

“Detective Mike Kingston of the Winnetka County Sheriff’s Department.”

Tucker gave a little gasp. “Is Curly all right? I mean…he didn’t…die, did he?”

“Oh, no. I’m here about the burglary at the fairgrounds. You didn’t see anything suspicious between six and six forty-five on Tuesday night, did you, Tucker?”

“Can’t say as I did. That’s the time I usually eat, so I was probably in the food court, or maybe at Bri’s trailer.”

“Bri?”

“Brianna Webber, my fiancée. She’s trying to learn how to cook, and I’m her guinea pig. I was probably with her, but you can check to make sure.”

“And I’ll find Brianna where?”

“Somewhere around here. She left with…” Tucker turned to Hannah. “What was her name again, darlin’?”

Mike gave Hannah a long, hard look. “Let me guess. Michelle, right?”

“That’s right,” Hannah jumped in quickly. “Michelle went to school with Dot.”

“And she came out here with you because Dot’s having a baby. You told me already.” Mike glanced down at the coffee table in front of the row of seats. “You don’t have coffee. Let me go get you some.”

“Oh, well…” Hannah started to say she didn’t want any more coffee, but Mike had already started for the door. She turned back to Tucker. “I guess I can drink one more cup. How about you?”

“I’m always up for coffee. Say…you don’t think he thinks I had anything to do with that robbery, do you?”

Burglary, Hannah mentally corrected him. “I don’t think so,” she said. “If he suspected you, he would have asked you more questions.”

“Well, good! Because I didn’t have anything to do with it.”

Hannah caught Andrea’s eye and motioned her over. She’d pushed Tucker as far as she could, and more questions would just put him on guard. Andrea caught her signal, and she brought Sam Webber over to join them.

The conversation was trivial from that point on. Hannah was just getting sleepy again, when Mike came in carrying a tray with coffee.

“Here you go,” he said. “Sorry about the cups, but all I could find were these plastic ones. I thought I’d better use doubles since the coffee was really hot.”

That made sense. Hannah reached for a cup. But before she could offer it to Tucker, Mike passed him the tray. Tucker took a cup, sipped it, and made a face.

“This is almost as bad as chuck wagon coffee,” he said, putting his cup down on the table.

“You must have gotten the gunk at the bottom of the pot,” Mike told him. “Here. Take another one.”

Tucker did, and he sipped it. “This is better,” he said. “Thanks.”

“I’ll go get rid of this one,” Mike said, picking it up by the rim and heading for the trash can.

Mike had just resumed his seat when Michelle and Brianna came in. Brianna rushed to Tucker and gave him another kiss on the cheek.

“Good news?” Tucker asked.

“The best. Curly’s out of surgery, and the doctor thinks he repaired all the internal damage. He upgraded his condition from critical to stable.”

“Can he talk yet?”

“Not yet. The doctor put him in a drug-induced coma. He’ll be out cold for two days, and then they’ll wake him up and reassess.”

“But…he’ll be all right eventually?”

“The doctor thinks so, but he warned me that Curly’s not out of the woods yet.”

“I’m so glad for you,” Michelle said, giving Brianna a hug and then glancing at Mike. “We’d better go see how Dot’s doing. The nurse said she’s almost ready to go to the delivery room.”

Hannah didn’t wait for a second invitation. She stood up, said her goodbyes, and they were out the door. On their way down the corridor, Hannah glanced behind her to see if Mike was following, and then she turned to Michelle. “Is Dot really in the delivery room?”

“I don’t know. I just said that so we could leave. Do you want to check on her?”

“I think we’d better. If we don’t, Mike will find out about it.”

It only took a minute to check on Dot. And it only took another two minutes to drop off the flowers in her room. They took a quick peek at Baby Girl Larson in the nursery, and then they headed for the exit.

“Wait,” Hannah said, as they passed the alcove with complimentary coffee.

“You want more coffee?” Andrea sounded incredulous.

“No, I just want to check something out.”

Hannah ducked into the alcove while her sisters waited. There was a thirty-cup coffee pot, similar to the one they used at The Cookie Jar, and baskets of sugar, artificial sweetener, and coffee creamer in packets. A box of straws and plastic spoons sat next to the coffee pot, and there were stacks of Styrofoam cups for coffee and plastic cups for water. From sheer force of habit, Hannah poured herself a cup of coffee and walked back to join her sisters.

“I thought you didn’t want coffee,” Andrea said.

“I don’t, but now that I’ve got it, I’ll drink it. Waste not, want not. Come on, let’s go.”

Hannah didn’t see the look her younger sisters exchanged on their way out the door. She was too busy wondering what reason Mike had for claiming they’d run out of Styrofoam coffee cups when they hadn’t.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

She was on a sailing ship, and the sun had crossed the yardarm. Whatever that meant. Even though she was right there, she still didn’t know precisely what a yardarm was. A warm breeze kissed her cheek, and salty spray kicked up like sandpaper against her skin. Except salty sea spray didn’t feel like sandpaper. The only things that felt like sandpaper were sandpaper itself, and a cat’s tongue.

“Moishe?” she asked, opening her eyes to see two un-blinking yellow orbs staring into hers. She blinked, but Moishe didn’t. She’d lost the staring contest.

“What time is it?” she asked, sitting up in bed and noticing that light was streaming in her western exposure window. Of course Moishe didn’t answer, but one glance at the alarm clock on her bedside table told Hannah that it was ten after two in the afternoon. She’d forgotten to set her alarm! She was late to work, extremely late to work! Why hadn’t anyone called to wake her?!

She was just starting to enter full-scale panic mode when she saw a note propped up by the clock. It said, Don’t you dare come to work today! We’re closing at two, and that gives me plenty of time to get out to the fairgrounds. I don’t have to be there until three today. I’ll be helping Lisa, and Andrea is doing the deliveries. Don’t worry, I won’t let her bake. And it was signed, Michelle.

There was an old saying about not looking a gift horse in the mouth, and Hannah decided it had merit. There was no point in dressing and driving to town. The Cookie Jar was already closed for the day. She had absolutely nothing to do until seven this evening, when she’d watch Michelle at the Miss Tri-County competition. After that, she’d judge tonight’s baked goods entries, and then she’d be through for the day.

The smile on her face stayed with her all the way to the kitchen. Michelle had left the coffee all ready to go, and Hannah poured in the water. While she waited for it to drip down, she sat down at the kitchen table and found herself staring at her new cell phone.

It was no longer attached to the charger. Michelle must have unplugged it, because there was another note on the kitchen table. It read, I don’t know if this is important—Bri showed me her engagement ring, and it had an inscription. It said, “Yesterday and Today.” Didn’t the card you found in Willa’s apartment say something like that?

Hannah stared down at the note in shock. The florist’s card they’d found in Willa’s apartment had started in exactly the same way! There was a connection between Tucker and Willa and this proved it!

Mike should know. Hannah was reaching for the phone when she thought of all the questions he’d ask her. Who had thought of the inscription for the engagement ring? Did Brianna tell the jeweler what she wanted? Or was it Tucker’s idea? Was Yesterday and Today, Tomorrow and Forever a common phrase? Or was it unique and therefore did it tie Tucker to Willa in some way?

Hannah went to pour herself another cup of coffee and sat back down at the table. Unless she wanted to look like an idiot, she needed more information before she alerted Mike.

Her new cell phone was on the table. Hannah flipped it open, pressed the button marked ON, and immediately heard a burst of tinny music. It appeared that she was up and running. She’d call Norman to thank him for her new phone. She punched in his number, but when nothing happened and she wasn’t connected, she knew she’d done something wrong. She was about to hang up and try again when she spotted anther button with a phone receiver in green.

Her Grandmother Ingrid used to say that if at first you didn’t succeed you should try, try again. Hannah pressed the green button and heard a ringing tone. There was another ringing tone, and then Norman’s voice came on the line. “Hello?” he said.

“Hi, Norman. It’s Hannah. I just wanted to thank you for this phone. I’m using it right now.”

“Did you dial my number?”

“Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do?”

Norman laughed. “You can if you want to, but there’s an easier way. I’m number one.”

“Of course you are,” Hannah said, and paused while he laughed again.

“Thanks, but I meant that I programmed your phone for speed dial and my cell phone is number one. Just turn on the phone, punch in a one, and hit the green phone button. The phone will do the rest.”

“That’s great,” Hannah said with a smile, wondering what other numbers, if any, Norman had programmed. “If you’re a one, who’s a two?”

“I am. That’s my home number.”

Hannah grinned. She was beginning to see a pattern here. “And three is your number at the dental clinic?”

“That’s right.”

“How about four?”

“That’s Andrea’s cell phone number.”

“Five?”

“Michelle’s cell phone.”

“Six?”

“Your mother’s cell phone.”

Hannah blinked. Surely she hadn’t heard him correctly. “Did you say that Mother has a cell phone?”

“Yes. She just got it a couple of weeks ago.”

Hannah groaned. As usual, she was the last person in the family to embrace new technology. “I suppose your mother has one, too?”

“Of course. She had hers first. I’m pretty sure that’s why your mother got one.”

“Keeping up with the Joneses? Or in this case, the Rhodeses?”

“Could be. I’m really glad you called, Hannah. I heard from Professor Tate.”

“He called you?”

“No, he e-mailed me. They’re in a remote area, but a truck comes to pick them up every two weeks and take them to the nearest place to replenish their supplies and pick up their messages. In their case, it’s a village without an airstrip.”

“So he couldn’t have flown back here to kill Willa?”

“That’s right.”

“Hold on a second,” Hannah said, reaching for her purse. She pulled out the shorthand notebook she thought of as her murder book and flipped it open to the list of suspects. “Okay. He’s an ex.”

“An ex?”

“That’s ex-suspect. I crossed him off my list. I must be getting close to solving this case, because I’ve only got three suspects left.”

“How many were there?” Norman asked.

“Thirteen. I had Tasha’s three brothers, Mr. Hicks, Mrs. Adamczak, the high school boy Willa flunked, Professor Tate, Jess Reiffer, the old boyfriend who may or may not be Jess Reiffer, and the new boyfriend who may or may not be the cowboy someone saw with Willa on the night she was killed.”

“Okay. Who else is on the list?”

“The burglar.”

“The one who broke into the office at the fairgrounds?”

“Right. He’s not crossed out yet. It could be a case of Willa’s being in the right place at the wrong time. But there’s something else that just came up.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s that florist card Andrea and I found in Willa’s apartment. It’s the only personal thing she saved, other than the little photo album we found in her desk. I told you about it, didn’t I?”

“If you’re talking about the card that said, Yesterday and Today, Tomorrow and Forever, you did.”

“That’s the one. Michelle got a look at Brianna’s engagement ring last night when we went back to the hospital.”

“You went back to the hospital after I left?” Norman sounded concerned. “How much sleep did you get?”

“Fourteen hours, but I’ll tell you about that later. Anyway, Brianna is the owner’s daughter, and she was there with her fiancé Tucker Smith.”

“The cowboy who tried to kill Curly?”

“Yes, if that’s really what happened. He’s a real piece of work, Norman. Slick and handsome, with a grin that he thinks will melt any woman’s heart.”

“And you’re thinking Willa knew him in the past and he’s the one who gave her the flowers?”

“Could be. Do you think you could find out anything about that phrase on the Internet? I’d like to know if it’s a common one.”

“I’ll give it a try.” Hannah heard paper rustle, and she knew that Norman was making a note. “Anything else?”

“Not really.”

“Okay. I’ll get back to you on that. One last thing. You mentioned twelve suspects so far. Who’s the thirteenth?”

“The wild card.”

“The wild card?”

“Yes. I add him to every one of my suspect lists. He’s the unknown person who kills for some unknown reason.”

“Which makes him impossible to find.”

“Right.” Hannah shut her notebook with a snap. “Are you going to the Miss Tri-County competition tonight?”

“I wouldn’t miss it. How about you?”

“I’ll be there. Do you want to come over after?” Hannah asked the question, and then she laughed at the way she’d lapsed into regional Minnesota dialogue.

“Sure. Do you want to drive? Or shall I drive and you can come with?”

Hannah cracked up. Norman was quick on the uptake, and he’d wasted no time throwing another Minnesota phrase back at her. “I’d better drive.”

“Okay. See you later.”

“You bet. Norman?”

“Yes, Hannah.”

“I really like this phone.”

“I’m glad.”

“There’s only one thing…”

“What’s that?”

“Can you tell me which button I should press to hang it up?”

It was six hours later, and Hannah couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so good. Norman had used his most powerful search engine, and he’d gotten over eight million hits on the words Yesterday and Today, Tomorrow and Forever. That meant the phrase was a lot more common than any of them had guessed. While the popularity of the phrase didn’t rule out her hunch about Willa’s knowing Tucker in the past, it was a lot less likely. She supposed she should be depressed, but she wasn’t. Fourteen uninterrupted hours of sleep had put things into perspective, and she felt she was thinking clearly for the first time since Willa’s death.

Michelle had done very well in tonight’s dance competition. Since live partners weren’t permitted, she’d appropriated the decorative scarecrow from the side of the stage and danced to Turkey in the Straw. She’d brought down the house and come in second. The first-place contestant had studied ballet for eight years and performed with a professional ballet company in Minneapolis.

They’d all gathered outside the auditorium after the competition to congratulate Michelle. Even Lonnie and Mike had been there, taking a break from their official duties to catch Michelle’s act. Hannah had congratulated her youngest sister, exchanged a few words with everyone who was there, told Delores that she agreed the ballet dancer had an unfair edge, and then headed for the Creative Arts Building with Lisa to judge the cookies.

As they’d tasted the sugary treats, they’d talked about Willa’s marriage. Pam still couldn’t believe that the classroom aide and student teacher she’d befriended had harbored such a painful secret.

“No wonder she turned Gordon down,” Pam said, taking a bite of the last entry, a soft molasses and raisin cookie that Hannah thought smelled a lot better than it tasted. “After being married to Jess Reiffer, poor Willa was probably afraid to trust any man again.”

Lisa gave a little nod. “I can understand that. Even though he wasn’t directly responsible, Willa’s parents would still be alive if she hadn’t gotten mixed up with him.”

Now was not the time for a discussion about time and consequence, and Hannah knew it. She just took another bite of her cookie and washed it down with the coffee Lisa had brought. “Maybe the reason Willa turned Gordon down was because she was still married.”

There was a moment of silence as both Pam and Lisa turned to her in surprise. “You think?” Lisa asked.

“I don’t know. Do you think I should ask Andrea to check it out? It might be mentioned in the real estate papers when she sold her parents’ house.”

“Ask her,” Lisa said.

Pam nodded. “Yes, do. It probably doesn’t have anything to do with her murder, but I’d really like to know.” She glanced down at her master sheet and then back up at them. “We’ve tested all the entries. Fill out your last scorecard, and we’re done for the night.”

Hannah filled out her scorecard and handed it to Pam. A moment later, so did Lisa. Once the scores were tallied, Pam completed the judge’s master sheet. “Do you want to guess which cookie won?” she asked.

“I thought the Chippers were the best,” Lisa said.

“Agreed,” Hannah offered her opinion. “The Chippers were absolutely delicious.”

“That’s what I thought, too.” Pam said, signing the sheet. “You’ll be happy to know that they won, hands down.”

“Who baked them?” Lisa asked.

“Let’s see…” Pam flipped the entry card over, read the name, and turned to Hannah. “It’s Regina Todd. That’s Andrea’s mother-in-law, isn’t it?”

“Yes. I’ll tell Andrea and she can break the news. It might win her points. And if you don’t mind, I’ll take the rest of those Chippers to Mother.”

“You’re forging a peace between Delores and Regina?” Pam asked.

Hannah laughed. “I think it’ll take more than blue ribbon cookies to do that! The last time they got together at Andrea’s house, Mother asked Regina if she was gaining weight, and Regina asked Mother if she was trying out a new hair color.”

CHIPPERS

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F., rack in the middle position.

1 ½ cups softened butter (3 sticks, ¾ pound, 12 ounces)

1 ½ cups white (granulated) sugar

2 egg yolks

½ teaspoon salt

2 teaspoons vanilla extract

2 ½ cups flour (no need to sift)

1 ½ cups finely crushed plain potato chips (measure AFTER crushing)

1 ½ cups finely chopped pecans (measure AFTER chopping)

½ teaspoon finely grated lemon zest (optional) (zest is just the colored part of the peel, not the white)

1/3 cup white (granulated) sugar for dipping approximately 5 dozen pecan halves for decoration

Hannah’s 1st Note: Use regular potato chips, the thin salty ones. Don’t use baked chips, or rippled chips, or chips with the peels on, or kettle fried, or flavored, or anything that’s supposed to be better for you than those wonderfully greasy, salty old-fashioned potato chips.

In a large mixing bowl, beat the butter, sugar, egg yolks, salt, and vanilla until they’re light and fluffy. (You can do this by hand, but it’s a lot easier with an electric mixer.)

Add the flour, crushed potato chips, chopped pecans, and lemon zest (if you decided to use it.) Mix well.

Form one-inch dough balls with your hands and place them on an UNGREASED cookie sheet, 12 to a standard-sized sheet.

Place the sugar in a small bowl. Spray the bottom of a glass with Pam or other nonstick cooking spray, dip it in the sugar, and use it to flatten each dough ball. (Dip the glass in the sugar for each ball.) Place a pecan half in the center of each cookie and press it down slightly.

Bake at 350 degrees F., for 10 to 12 minutes, or until the cookies are starting to turn golden at the edges. Let them cool on the cookie sheet for 2 minutes and then remove them to a wire rack to cool completely.

Yield: Approximately 8 dozen, depending on cookie size.

Hannah’s 2nd Note: Mother loves these when I use orange zest instead of lemon zest. Since the orange flavor isn’t as strong as the lemon, I use one whole teaspoon of orange zest when I bake Chippers for her. I also substitute one teaspoon orange extract for the vanilla.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Hannah and Lisa had just stepped outside the Creative Arts Building when Andrea and Michelle came running up the steps.

“I thought you’d never get through!” Andrea exclaimed, grabbing Hannah’s arm. “I tried to call you, but there’s something wrong with your cell phone. Let me have it.”

Hannah reached into her purse and handed her sister the phone. “Here, but there’s nothing wrong with it. I just didn’t turn it on.”

“But what if there’d been an emergency?”

“Then I would have turned it on. Why were you trying to call me?”

“They caught him,” Michelle explained, obviously the calmer of the two.

“Willa’s killer?”

“That’s right.” Michelle turned to Lisa with a smile. “Your husband is the one who caught him! He’s down at the sheriff’s station right now, watching Mike and Lonnie interrogate him.”

“Herb caught Willa’s killer?” Lisa was clearly astonished. “How did he do that?”

“He was standing right where we are now, waiting for you to finish judging,” Andrea took over from her younger sister. “He was just staring out over the crowd, and he noticed a cowboy hanging around the office building. At first Herb thought he was waiting for somebody, but he didn’t look at his watch or anything, the way you’d do if somebody you were supposed to meet was late.”

Michelle picked up the thread. “So Herb was about to walk over and ask him what he was doing when the cowboy glanced around to see if anybody was watching him.”

“He didn’t see Herb because Herb wasn’t on ground level,” Andrea interjected.

“And when the cowboy thought no one was paying any attention to him, he snuck around the corner.” Michelle stopped and turned to Hannah. “Is that snuck, or sneaked?”

“It’s sneaked, but it doesn’t matter. Go on.”

“So Herb ran down the steps and over to the building. He went around the same corner, and he saw the cowboy halfway through one of the office windows.”

Lisa’s eyes widened. “What did Herb do?”

“According to Bill,” Andrea took over, “and Bill’s the one who called to tell me about it, Herb grabbed the cowboy by both legs, pulled him backwards really fast, and dumped him on the ground on his back. Then he flipped him over, pinned him down, and called for security. Roland Weiss, he’s the retired deputy that discovered the break-in, came to put the cuffs on.”

“Wait a second.” Hannah was confused. “Did this cowboy confess to killing Willa?”

“No, but he’s the one who stole the box-office receipts on the night Willa was killed. He didn’t confess to that either, but Mike sent Lonnie to search his motel room, and Lonnie recovered the money bags the secretary used for the box-office receipts.”

Hannah just shook her head. “And this guy came back to the same place to steal more box-office money?”

“That’s right.” Andrea gave a little laugh. “Of course he was severely impaired at the time.”

“Drugs? Or booze?”

Michelle shrugged. “Lonnie wasn’t sure. He said the guy was either drunk as a skunk, high as a kite, or both. Doc Knight came in to draw blood for a tox screen, but that’ll take a couple of hours.”

Hannah was silent for a moment, putting together the pieces. “You said this guy was a cowboy. Was he with the rodeo?”

“He was until Tuesday night. That’s when the manager fired him.”

“Let me guess,” Hannah said. “They marched him down to the office and had the secretary pay him off, right?”

“That’s right. And that’s how he knew exactly where the money was kept. He just stuck around and broke in.”

Hannah began to frown. “But that was between six and a quarter to seven. And Willa wasn’t killed until after the carnival closed at ten.”

“Maybe he was the cowboy Willa was dating,” Lisa proposed. “If he was, he probably stuck around to wait for her. Maybe he was stupid enough to show her the money and invite her to go off with him for the weekend, or something like that. Willa could have known about the robbery by then and put two and two together.”

“So you think he killed her to keep her from talking?” Hannah asked.

All three women nodded. Hannah thought about it for a moment, and then she had an idea. “It all makes sense,” she said, “but let’s take it even further. Let’s say that the cowboy Herb caught isn’t who he says he is. His real name is Jess Reiffer.”

“Willa’s husband?” Andrea asked, staring at Hannah in surprise.

“Exactly. We know that Willa liked to ride. Pam mentioned it, and the album Norman and I found had all those pictures of horses. Jess Reiffer might have liked to ride, too. That could be how they met. And if he was a good rider, he could have changed his name when he got out of jail and joined the rodeo circuit.”

“And he was in the roping demonstration, and that’s why Willa looked so shocked?” Michelle asked.

“Yes. Willa recognized him. And maybe, despite all the grief he caused her, Willa was still in love with him.”

“You could be right,” Andrea agreed, “especially if he managed to convince her that he’d learned his lesson in jail and he promised her he’d never break the law again.”

“And then, when he met her on Tuesday night, he suddenly had lots of money. And Willa had heard about the break-in at the carnival office and the box-office money that was stolen.”

“So her husband killed her because she guessed what he’d done,” Lisa said with a sigh.

Michelle sighed, too. “Willa died because she loved the wrong man.”

There’s a country-western song here, Hannah thought, but she didn’t say it. “It all ties in with the photo album,” she said instead.

“You’re right,” Michelle said with a nod. “Jess Reiffer used Willa’s keys to open her desk to make sure she didn’t have anything to identify him. He found their wedding photo and cut himself out of the picture so that no one would recognize his face.”

All four of them were silent for a moment, thinking about Willa’s unlucky fate. “At least they’ve got him,” Hannah said at last.

“That’s right. There’ll be justice for Willa.” Andrea turned to Lisa. “I’ll give you a ride out to the sheriff’s station.”

“Thanks. That’d be great.”

“It’s on our way. Michelle and I are going to Mother’s. She asked us to stop by the mall to pick up an ink cartridge for her printer. Do you want to come along, Hannah?”

“No, thanks. You can take these cookies to her, though. They’re Regina’s Chippers, and they won first place in the cookie competition.” Hannah thrust the package of cookies into Michelle’s arms and turned to Andrea. “You can call and tell Regina that she won.”

“I’ll call her when I get to the sheriff’s station. Then Bill can congratulate her, too. Are you heading home now, Hannah?”

“Just as soon as Norman gets here.”

“Uh-oh.” Michelle looked guilty. “I forgot.”

“You forgot what?”

“I forgot to tell you that we ran into Norman and he said to tell you he was going straight to the condo. I hope it’s all right that I gave him my key to get in.”

“It’s fine, but I thought he was going to meet me here after the judging.”

“He was. And we were supposed to tell you about the change of plans. In all the excitement about catching Willa’s killer and everything, I just plain forgot.”

“That’s understandable. So Norman’s at the condo right now?”

Michelle glanced at her watch. “He should be. He wanted to see if he could figure out what’s bothering Moishe. He told me he thought that maybe if he was alone with Moishe and there wasn’t anything else going on, he could spot whatever it is.”

“It’s certainly worth a try.” Hannah was slightly disappointed that Norman wasn’t meeting her until she remembered one important fact. As soon as her sisters and Lisa left, she’d be by herself, and the food court was still open. That meant she could dash over to the Sinful Pleasures booth and get a deep-fried Milky Way at last!

“I’ve got something to wrap up here,” she said, not saying that what she was planning to wrap was her mouth around a gazillion scrumptious calories. “I’ll see you at the condo later.”

Once Michelle and Andrea had left with Lisa, Hannah headed for the food court. But her great escape into carbohydrate nirvana was cut short by the appearance of Ruby herself.

“Ruby!” Hannah called out, causing the candy bar chef to stop in her tracks and whirl around.

“Hi, Hannah. I hope you didn’t want a deep-fried Milky Way tonight. I closed a little early.”

Hannah was about to say that was exactly what she wanted, but then Ruby might feel bad. “That’s okay. I was just coming to tell you that they caught the guy who stole the box-office money.”

“They did?” Ruby looked absolutely delighted. “I’ll tell Sam. I’m going over there now. He’s driving Brianna and me to the hospital to take Curly some flowers.”

“Curly’s awake?”

“Not yet, but the doctor upgraded his condition to good, and he’s going to wake him up tomorrow morning. He’s almost positive that Curly’s going to be all right. We want Curly to see our flowers first thing and know that we were there.”

“That’s nice. I’m really glad he’s going to be okay.”

“Me, too. About the robbery…do you know if they recovered any of the stolen money?”

Hannah shook her head. “The only thing I know for sure is that the thief was a rodeo cowboy who was fired on Tuesday.”

“Buck Jones,” Rudy said with a frown. “I knew he was trouble the second I set eyes on him. He gave Sam a hard luck story, and Sam hired him to help with the setup and do some of the roping demonstrations. I gotta say he was good with a rope, but Riggs caught him taking shortcuts with the setup for the Brahmas.”

“What do you mean?”

“There’s supposed to be a barrel every fifteen feet and a stand between the barrels. That’s to protect the clowns. The barrels are reinforced and they’re heavy, and Buck wasn’t bringing them all out the way he should.”

Hannah’s mind spun into high gear. “How about when Curly was hurt? Were all the barrels in place?”

“I’ll have to ask Riggs. But that was yesterday, and Buck was already gone.”

“I know. I was just wondering if he could have gotten rid of some barrels so he wouldn’t have to roll them out. And maybe the guys that did the setup yesterday didn’t know how many there were supposed to be.”

Ruby’s eyes narrowed. “That would explain a lot! Curly’s fast on his feet, and he’s great at diving in those barrels with a bull hot on his heels. But if a barrel wasn’t where he expected it to be, it could have thrown him way off.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Hannah said. “Let me know what Riggs says, will you? They might be able to charge him with…” Hannah stopped short. “I don’t know what the charge would be, but I’m sure there’s something.”

“I’ll let you know. If that lazy little twerp had anything to do with Curly’s accident, I’ll take him down myself.”

Chapter Thirty

There was no way she should be hungry, but she was. Hannah got her order in right before the lights started flickering for the five-minute closing warning. She headed for a deserted table, sat down, and wolfed down the funnel cake. She was just starting in on her coffee when she spotted a familiar swagger heading her way. It was Tucker Smith.

“Hannah,” Tucker said, grinning his gal-winning grin. “Mind if I join you?”

Hannah was tempted to say no. Tucker wasn’t the killer, but that didn’t mean she had to like him. At the same time, it would be rude to refuse. “Pull up a bench,” she said, hoping she sounded more welcoming than she felt.

“I’m glad I caught you.” Tucker stepped over the bench with an ease Hannah could only admire, and sat astride it, like a horse. “Somebody told me you were investigating the murder, and I wanted to see how you were doing.”

“Why?”

Tucker shrugged. “I guess I was just curious, being that it happened right here at the fair and all. You are investigating, aren’t you?”

“No.”

“No?”

Hannah shook her head. “I was investigating, but I’m not investigating now.”

“Why not?”

“Because they caught him.”

“No kidding! Well…that’s good news. Did you catch him yourself?”

“Not me. Our local marshal picked him up trying to break into the Great Northwestern office again tonight.”

“You mean…the guy who broke into the office is the killer?”

“It looks that way.”

“No kidding!” Tucker exclaimed again, causing Hannah to wonder if he had a limited vocabulary. “Did you think he was the killer all along?”

“Not exactly,” Hannah said, deciding that the truth was in order. “If you must know, I thought that you were the killer.”

“Me?!” The lights flickered for the second time as Tucker leaned closer. “Why did you think that?”

“It’s a long story,” Hannah said. “Do you have an hour?”

“I’ve got all night for something like that,” Tucker shot right back.

“Unfortunately, we’ve only got three minutes or so,” Hannah said. “I don’t want to get locked in.”

“Oh, you won’t. I can let you out the back way.” Tucker jingled the ring of keys in his pocket. “You didn’t tell anybody else what you thought about me, did you?”

“No. And now that they caught the real killer, I’m glad I didn’t.”

“Me, too.” Tucker gave a little chuckle. “Why did you suspect me anyway?”

The lights flickered again and Hannah took another sip of her coffee. She really wanted to head for the gate with the crowd, but she owed Tucker an answer. “Because one of the 4-H kids saw Willa with a cowboy and I thought it was you,” she explained. “And because when Willa walked past the roping demonstration with me, she almost passed out cold from shock. I thought you were her husband, Jess Reiffer.”

“Her husband?” Tucker looked completely mystified. “But I’m not married. I’m engaged to Brianna.”

“I know that. And I realize that if anyone was Willa’s husband, it’s Buck Jones.”

“Hold on.” Tucker held up his hand as the lights flickered for the fourth time. “Buck Jones is the bum we fired right after the rodeo on Tuesday. Sam said Riggs caught him slacking off on the setup.”

“I know. Ruby told me about it. We think that’s what happened when you got thrown and Curly got hurt. Ruby’s almost sure there were supposed to be more barrels. She figures Buck hid some so he didn’t have to move them all out.”

Tucker’s mouth dropped open. “So that’s what was different! I knew something wasn’t right, but I couldn’t figure out what it was. What do you think Buck did with the barrels?”

“I don’t know. You’ll probably find them when you pack up the show.”

“Probably.” Tucker glanced up as the lights flickered again. A moment later, there was a hollow thunk and then the dim strings of nightlights went on.

“I’ll take you out the back way,” Tucker said, looping his leg over the seat and standing up.

“Okay,” Hannah agreed, taking a bit longer to extricate herself from the picnic-style table with the attached seat. “What really threw me off was the engagement ring.”

“You mean the one I gave Bri?”

“That’s right.” Hannah followed him past the deserted food booths and onto the midway. “It was the inscription inside.”

“Yesterday and Today,” Tucker repeated. “And her wedding ring is gonna have, Tomorrow and Forever. What’s wrong with that?”

“Those same words were written on a florist card that Willa kept. That’s why I thought she was tied to you somehow.”

“You don’t know?” Tucker asked, grinning his engaging grin.

“Know what?”

“It’s from a country-western song. Somebody big sang it. I forget who. You must not listen to country-western music.”

“Not often,” Hannah admitted. She was about to ask him the name of the song so that she could tell Norman, when she heard the first two bars of the William Tell overture and they seemed to be coming from her purse. “What’s that?”

“Sounds like a cell phone.”

Hannah reached in to grab it. “Oh, great! Andrea must have turned it on. I hate these things. Hold on a second and I’ll shut it off.”

In the dim glow from the strings of nightlights all the icons looked alike and it was impossible to tell the green phone from the red phone. Hannah pressed buttons at random trying to find the right one and dropped the phone in her purse again. They’d just started to walk down the midway when she heard her sister’s voice. It was muffled from inside her purse, but it was perfectly audible.

“Hannah? We were wrong about Buck Jones. He stole the money, but he didn’t kill Willa. Are you there?”

She really didn’t need to hear this now. Hannah hoped that Andrea would assume she wasn’t there and hang up. But her sister’s voice continued to resonate from the depths of her purse.

“Hannah? I’m just hoping you’re hearing this and it didn’t go to voice mail, because they checked out his alibi and it’s good. Buck Jones was at the Corner Tavern when Willa was killed, eating a sixteen-ounce porterhouse and a rock lobster. Nick Prentiss remembers him because he had too much champagne and he tried to dance with Albert, the grizzly. Anyway, call us back. We’re getting worried about you.”

Buck Jones hadn’t done it. And that meant every one of her suspicions about Tucker were still valid. Hannah turned to glance at him and swallowed hard. His boyish, gal-winning grin had turned into a nasty gal-slaying grin. And he was grinning it straight at her.

“Uh-oh!” Hannah breathed. And then she was off and running as fast as she could, down the midway heading for…

She didn’t know what she was heading for, but that didn’t slow her pace. She’d stop at the first place she found to hide. It had worked before when she’d hidden behind the hay bales from Willa’s killer. And now he was after her. And nobody knew she was here at the fairgrounds in danger!

Hannah shut off her mind and concentrated on making her feet move. Left, right, left, right, as fast as she could go. She didn’t turn to look, but she could feel that Tucker was behind her and that made her run faster. She rounded a corner, hurtled a fence with the grace of an elephant and found herself in the enclosure that housed the tilt-a-whirl.

Hide, Hannah’s mind said. And she did. Before anyone could say There’s a psychopathic rodeo cowboy killer after you, and you should take cover, she was huddled in one of the tilt-a-whirl carts, hoping against hope that Tucker hadn’t seen her tumble in.

Chapter Thirty-One

Hannah huddled on the floor of the round orange cart. She could see the moon above her through the double bars of the safety handle, a thin sliver of pale blue-white. Not a full moon. That was in her favor. And the fact that the string of dim nightlights was not directly over her cart was in her favor, too.

Footfalls pounded past her on the dirt path and Hannah held her breath. Would he find her hiding place and kill her? But the sound receded and Hannah realized that he’d run past the tilt-a-whirl and around the corner.

She wasn’t out of the woods yet, but perhaps she could stack the deck in her favor. Without even realizing that she’d generated two clichés in a row, Hannah rummaged in her purse for her cell phone. Norman was number one. She’d call him and tell him to send Mike out to the fairgrounds to save her. At full speed in his powerful cruiser Mike could be here in ten minutes.

There was a clinking sound and Hannah felt her hold on reality slipping. Tucker was doing something two rows over, and she thought she knew what it was. He was taking the chain from the strong man mallet. Mike might be able to be here in ten minutes, but she could be dead in five!

She had to think of some way to delay Tucker if he found her. She’d kept killers talking for longer than that in the past. They seemed to like to tell her about their exploits, to explain why they’d done what they’d done. Perhaps it was ego. Perhaps it was stupidity. Whatever it was, she’d take it.

Hannah’s fingers punched in a one, and then the button she thought contained the green phone icon. And then, wonder of wonders, the phone started to ring.

“Call Mike!” she gasped when Norman answered. “I’m hiding. Tilt-a-whirl. Tucker killed…”

Hannah stopped abruptly as her phone went dead. Hannah heard it go with two clicks and a beep. The dying swan had gasped its last breath and Hannah could only hope that she wasn’t in the same boat.

That was when she heard it, a squad car with siren screaming in the distance, racing down the highway that led to the fairgrounds. But she also heard something else and that was the sound of someone running straight for her. Hannah looked down at her choice of weapons. Nothing. And then she looked down at her means of defense. All she had was her saddlebag purse and while it might deflect one blow from the strong man mallet if she was very lucky, it couldn’t last forever.

Frantically, she looked around her for ammunition, anything that she could use to thwart a killing blow. There was nothing, unless a piece of grape bubblegum sticking to the safety handle counted. She’d have to depend on her wits to save her. And at that moment, she felt quite witless.

The night wind picked up, blowing down the midway and kicking up debris from the trash cans. They were in for another summer storm. A crumpled Dixie cup zipped past Hannah’s cart, closely followed by several scraps of paper.

She heard rather than saw him coming. The sound of his boot heels hitting the dirt was like thunder. Hannah did her best to emulate a piece of flat cardboard in the bottom of the cart and prayed that Mike would get here soon. She no longer heard the siren. Perhaps it hadn’t been a police cruiser after all. It could have been an ambulance, or a fire truck, or…Hannah deliberately stopped thinking of other vehicles with sirens. She had to believe that it was a police cruiser and help was coming. The alternative was unthinkable.

And that was when it happened. Something she’d never expected. Opportunity dropped in her lap. It occurred quite literally as a black plastic raincoat someone had left on the seat of the cart just above her was blown up and out. It hovered in the air for a moment, looking like a huge black bat, and then the wind ceased and it dropped down to land in her cart. Some would call it fate, providence, perhaps even divine intervention. Whatever the origin, it was incredible timing. The coat spread over her like a welcome blanket only seconds before he walked through the opening in the fence and stepped up to her cart.

The raincoat was directly over her face. It was nearly suffocating her, but she dared not move. Through the narrow slit of one buttonhole, she could see him looking down at her and she held her breath and fought her urge to scream. Was this how a mosquito felt a split-second before a giant human palm came down to flatten it into oblivion? If that were true, she’d never kill another mosquito as long as she lived!

Several thoughts ran through Hannah’s mind so fast they seemed simultaneous. Was the plastic raincoat thick enough to camouflage her shape and render her nearly invisible in the dim light? Had she told her family that she loved them lately? Would Norman take Moishe after she was gone? Would it hurt when Tucker killed her? Would Lisa manage to work the quirks out of the recipe for Black Forest Cookies that had her stymied?

And then he was turning away. The raincoat had worked! She was saved! But a second later, it was snatched away and he was grinning down at her. “Did you really think I wouldn’t see you?”

It was too late for hiding, but perhaps she could buy a little time. “I was hoping,” she said.

“And now you’re going to try to keep me talking until your boyfriend gets here, right?”

“Which boyfriend?” Hannah asked, the reply coming to her lips almost automatically.

“That deputy in the hospital.”

“Mike Kingston,” Hannah said his name, half-hoping he’d magically materialize. Of course that didn’t happen, so she went on. “I thought maybe you meant Norman Rhodes.”

“A gal like you has got two boyfriends?” Tucker Smith, or Jess Reiffer, or however the man who meant to kill her thought of himself, gave an ominous little chuckle. “That’s enough talking from you. This’ll be over in a second.”

“Did Willa know it was coming?” Hannah asked, shuddering as he bent over to pick up the strong man mallet.

“Naw. I got her in the back of the head. I’m gonna have a little trouble with you, being as you’re inside that tilt-a-whirl cage. Might take me two or three tries.”

“Wait!” Hannah called out as he reached out for the mallet. “Why did you kill Willa? She wasn’t any threat to you.”

“Two million dollars. That’s why I killed her. That’s how much money I’m gonna inherit when I marry Bri and Sam dies. But I couldn’t marry Bri when I was already married, could I?”

“What was wrong with divorce?” Hannah asked.

“Willa didn’t want a divorce. She said she was still in love with me. And if I hadn’t played along, she would have said something to somebody about that time I spent in jail. And then…”

“Were you driving that car that was behind us when Norman and I left the school?” Hannah interrupted him.

“Yeah, that was me. The guy you had with you is some driver. I still don’t know how I lost you.”

Hannah sent a silent thank-you to Norman, along with a silent plea for someone, anyone to do something to save her. “And right before we got to the school, you went through Willa’s desk and cut yourself out of your wedding picture?”

“That’s right. Didn’t want anyone to recognize me. Now stop talking, sister, and sit real still. I don’t want to hurt you any more than I have to.”

“I thought you were a good rider,” Hannah said, hoping his vanity would distract him.

“I am a good rider.”

“It didn’t look like it in the arena. Unless…did you let that bull throw you on purpose?”

“Of course I did.”

“Then it all makes sense. And because you’re such a good rider and you made it look so real, nobody suspected that you set Curly up.”

Tucker was smiling as he took a step closer to her cart. “You know, you’re pretty smart. Too bad it won’t do you any good.”

“I’m not that smart,” Hannah retorted. She had to keep him talking. “I still haven’t figured out why you tried to kill Curly.”

“That one’s easy. Curly found out who I really was, and he gave me an ultimatum. He said if I didn’t leave town right after the rodeo was over, he’d tell Brianna and Sam.”

“So you tried to kill him?”

“Yup. And I’ll finish the job right after I take care of you. Now you just stay there nice and still and it’ll be over real quick.”

Hannah raised her purse to block his blow, but he grabbed it out of her hands and dropped it on the ground. “That’s just gonna delay things.”

Hannah watched the mallet rise up in his arms. It hovered overhead and was just starting its whizzing descent when she flew forward, then, backward, then around in a circle.

For a second, she thought she was dying. People who’d described near-death experiences talked about walking into the white light, but she’d never heard anyone mention a whirling wind tunnel. She was aware of the wind blowing against her hot cheeks, she could see the sliver of moon flashing by overhead, she could hear calliope music playing loudly, and she could feel her stomach churning. Since there was no way throwing up to the strains of “Yankee Doodle” could be a part of anyone’s journey to the hereafter, she must be still alive. And someone had turned on the tilt-a-whirl to whisk her away out of danger!

Hannah struggled to lift herself off the floor. It took some doing, but after several attempts, she managed to scramble onto the bench seat and grasp the safety handle. As the cart whirled crazily, she looked down to see Mike fighting with Tucker.

Mike was alone! And while he was strong and fit, so was Tucker. Hannah watched as she whirled past. On the first whirl, Mike was on top, but on the second, Tucker had the upper hand. Then it was Mike, Tucker, Mike, Tucker…she had to do something to give Mike an edge!

She could help Mike if she were on the ground, but the tilt-a-whirl was going too fast for her to jump out. She’d never make it. She couldn’t even stand up in the cart without being thrown back into her seat. If her phone was working, she could call for backup, but it was as dead as she would have been if Mike hadn’t flipped the lever to start the tilt-a-whirl. What could she do with a dead phone besides throw it away and…

That was it! She’d throw the phone to distract Tucker. Hannah tried to stand up, but she was thrown back when the cart began its dizzying descending whirl. She couldn’t even lean out to throw. The centrifugal force pinned her against the back of the seat like a bug on a moving windshield. She was about to throw the phone anyway and hope for the best when she noticed something.

Most of the time, the cart whirled madly this way and that, alternating between left swirls and right swirls. But there was one place, just as it reached the apex, when the cart hovered for a moment, caught between two equal forces, one from the left and one from the right. If she threw the phone then, she might actually hit something that would distract Tucker so that Mike could finish him off.

The music played gaily as Hannah’s cart whirled. Yankee Doodle went to town, riding on a pony. Stuck a feather in his hat and called it…She reached the apex on the third syllable of macaroni, raised her arm and let loose with all the force she could muster. And then the dizzying whirl began again and she had no idea if she’d succeeded, or not.

“Way to go, Hannah!” she heard Mike yell. “You hit him in the head!”

And then there were other voices yelling over the sound of the calliope. There were several deputies with Mike now, and she thought she heard Norman calling her name. She was about to shout out for someone to put an end to her newest least-favorite carnival ride when the music ceased and her cart slowed and stopped at the very bottom.

“Thanks,” she said, as Norman took her arms and helped her out. “What are you doing here?”

“I jumped in the car the second after you called me. They patched me through to Mike and I talked to him on my way out here. He was already halfway here.”

“But if you hadn’t called him yet, how could Mike have been halfway here?” Hannah asked, congratulating herself for regaining her powers of logic. Unfortunately, she hadn’t yet regained her powers of locomotion, because she felt as wobbly as one of Winnie Henderson’s newborn foals.

“I ran Tucker’s fingerprints and I got a hit for Jess Reiffer.” Mike arrived just in time to answer her question. “Come on, Norman. You take one arm and I’ll take the other and we’ll walk her to your car. I’ll bring her truck by later.”

“Hold it,” Hannah said, digging in with both feet as they rounded the corner by the box office. She was still shaky and a bit woozy, but what Mike had said didn’t make sense.

“Come on, Hannah.” Mike pulled her forward. “You know you’re in no condition to drive. You were on that tilt-a-whirl for at least five minutes and you’re still dizzy.

“I’m not arguing about that.” Hannah let them walk her forward again. “I want to know how you got Tucker’s fingerprints without arresting him.”

“I lifted them from his coffee cup at the hospital.”

“Of course you did,” Hannah said, mentally chiding herself for not figuring it out on her own. She’d caught Mike’s lie when he’d said that there were no more Styrofoam cups, but she hadn’t guessed the reason he’d substituted a double layer of slick plastic cold drink cups. “What I want to know is why you checked on Tucker in the first place.”

Mike looked as if he didn’t want to answer her question, but he felt he should. “It’s like this. Sometimes a cop will operate on a hunch and I had a hunch about him. I just knew he was no good.”

“What did he do to give you the hunch?” Hannah persisted.

Mike opened the passenger door of Norman’s car and practically shoved her in. “I didn’t like it when he called you darlin’. Nobody’s supposed to do that except me.”

Norman cleared his throat pointedly, and Mike turned to look at him. “Okay. You’re right. What I meant to say was nobody’s supposed to do that except me. And Norman. Is that all right with you, Hannah?”

“That’s fine with me,” Hannah said, snapping on her seatbelt before Mike could do it for her and taking her purse from Norman’s hand.

“Okay. See you later,” Mike said.

Hannah waited until he’d closed the door and walked away, and then she turned to Norman. “You were right.”

“About what?” Norman started his car and drove out of the lot.

“About that cell phone you gave me. It’s not exactly how I thought it would happen, but it did save my life.”

Hannah was just starting to relax when Norman pulled up in her extra parking spot and parked directly in back of Michelle. “This is all right, isn’t it?”

“I’m sure it’s fine. I don’t think Michelle’s going out. Lonnie will be tied up with Mike.”

“I think I’ve got Moishe’s problem narrowed down to a specific unit,” Norman said, getting out of the car and coming around to open the door for Hannah. “It’s the one directly across from you. I was sitting there in the dark watching out the window with Moishe, and I swear I saw the curtain pull back and a little face peek out.”

“A little face?”

Norman nodded. “It looked like a cat to me, but it was dark and I couldn’t really tell. It could have been a small dog, I guess.”

“It couldn’t have been either one. That’s where the Hollenbeck sisters live and they don’t have any pets. Clara’s violently allergic to cats and dogs. I can’t even go over there to see them unless she takes an allergy pill first.”

“She’s allergic to you?”

“No, to Moishe. And since he lives with me, I’ve got dander and cat hair practically imbedded in everything I wear.”

“So they couldn’t possibly have a cat,” Norman said, staring off into the distance at something Hannah couldn’t see.

“That’s right.”

“Okay. Get out of the car, Hannah. I want you to see something.”

Hannah got out of the car and turned to look. “What did you want me to…” She stopped speaking as she saw Marguerite Hollenbeck carrying something to the Dumpster.

“Is that a litter box?” Norman asked, when Hannah’s voice trailed off.

“Looks like one to me. And that would explain absolutely everything. Let’s go find out if we’re right.”

Marguerite was standing by the dumpster, tying off the litter box liner and preparing to drop it inside. Hannah was about to greet her when she saw that tears were running down her neighbor’s cheeks.

“Marguerite!” Hannah said, putting her arms around the older woman. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Cuddles. It’s breaking my heart, Hannah. I love her so much and I’ve got to give her up.”

Norman took care of the litter while Hannah took care of Marguerite. After a few moments of sobbing on Hannah’s shoulder, she finally wiped her eyes and drew a deep breath.

“I know I’ve got to be strong, but it’s just awful. I’ve wanted a cat for so long. Clara and I really thought we had her allergies under control, but it’s just not working. Clara’s miserable and Doc Knight can’t give her any stronger medication. She’s just as upset as I am. She loves Cuddles every bit as much as I do. But we’re going to have to find a new home for her!”

“Right here,” Norman said, stepping up to the plate with a speed that amazed Hannah. “I’ll take Cuddles and you can come out to visit her any time you want to.”

“You will?” Marguerite looked as astonished as Hannah felt. “Just like that?”

“Just like that. And if Cuddles gets along with Moishe, I’ll bring her over here to visit a couple of times a week. Then you won’t have to drive all the way out to my place.”

And that means you’ll be here to visit a couple of times a week, Hannah thought, admiring Norman’s tactics. But she wasn’t at all upset. Norman was welcome at her condo anytime.

“Oh, Dr. Rhodes!” Marguerite gave him a hug.

“You’d better call me Norman since I’m going to be your cat’s foster father,” Norman said, earning a big smile from Marguerite.

“All right…Norman. You’re the answer to our prayers! Would you like to meet Cuddles now?”

“I’d love to. Do you have a cat carrier?”

“Why yes. I do.”

Norman turned to Hannah. “If it’s all right with you, I’ll go meet Cuddles. And then Marguerite and I will bring Cuddles over to meet Moishe. Will that work?”

“Perfectly,” Hannah said, smiling at both of them. Her problem was solved because Willa’s killer was behind bars. And Moishe’s problem was solved because he’d been pining away, hoping to meet Cuddles. Everything was coming up roses except for the purple taffeta dress she’d be wearing on the front page of the Lake Eden Journal, the dunking she was bound to get at Bernie No-No Fulton’s hands at the Lake Eden Historical Society booth, and the fact that she had yet to experience the sinful pleasures of a deep-fried Milky Way.

Chapter Thirty-Two

The curtain was about to come down. Hannah shifted slightly on the dunking stool in the Lake Eden Historical Society booth and did her best to smile pleasantly. Mike and Norman had promised not to dunk her, but Bernie No-No Fulton hadn’t.

“Time?” she asked Michelle, who was standing by with a towel.

“Ten minutes until closing. And Andrea hasn’t seen him come in yet,” Michelle gave her report. Andrea and Tracey had taken up a position near the entrance, and they were all hoping that No-No wasn’t coming to the Tri-County Fair tonight. Michelle had been crowned Miss Tri-County tonight, and they’d planned a celebration at the Lake Eden Inn at ten-thirty, a half-hour after Hannah’s shift was over. There wouldn’t be time for her to go home and change, so she’d brought another outfit with her. But her hair would be another matter. Once dunked, it would resemble a bright red plastic pot scrubber, and she wouldn’t have time to wash and condition it.

Five minutes passed, and Hannah counted the seconds off in her mind. In the interim, three people tried to hit the bull’s-eye. Drew Vavra, the new coach of the Lake Eden Gulls, was the first to make the attempt. He’d pitched for the Gulls baseball team when he was in high school, but Mike whispered something in his ear and the three balls Drew threw missed the target by a country mile.

Florence Evans was up next, and she told Hannah that she was just showing her support by eating up the time. Florence wore glasses and everybody knew she was terribly near-sighted. But there was the phenomenon of beginner’s luck to consider, and Hannah held her breath until Florence’s last ball had fallen harmlessly several feet in front of the target.

The third pitcher was Doc Knight, and Hannah thought she might be a goner. He was a crackerjack surgeon, and surgeons had to aim carefully or they’d take out somebody’s gall bladder instead of their appendix. But Doc wasn’t wearing his surgical greens, and he winked at Hannah before his first throw. That tipped her off that he was missing deliberately, but he came satisfactorily close to hitting Delores with his third throw, which went wild.

The clock had almost run out. There were only two minutes to go when Michelle’s cell phone rang. She listened for a moment and then she approached Hannah’s stool. “No-No’s on his way,” she said. “Sorry, Hannah.”

Oh, well, Hannah thought. She’d survived a lot in her life, and one dunking wouldn’t kill her. Actually, she should be grateful that she was here to be dunked. She could have been killed in the tilt-a-whirl if things had turned out differently. She’d had a series of near misses and she should be grate…

Near-misses. Hannah’s train of thought hit a junction and went off in a new direction. Didn’t near mean that the goal hadn’t been achieved? If something was a near-success, that meant it wasn’t a success at all. It was the same as if someone said, He nearly made it. That meant he hadn’t, but he’d come close. So was a near-miss a miss? Or was near-miss a hit because it had nearly missed?

These and other similar thoughts engaged Hannah’s mind until she caught sight of a grinning baseball player wearing a Twin’s uniform. “Hi, No-No,” she said, accepting the inevitable.

“Hi, Hannah. Guess what? I’m going to the show!”

Hannah knew a bit of baseball lingo. Her father had followed the Twins for years and he’d never tired of talking baseball to his daughters. “They moved you up and you’re pitching for the Twins now?” she asked.

“That’s right. But I’m really worried about you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I heard you struck out a killer last night and I’ve never done that. I figured that maybe I should let you have a shot at the best rookie pitcher the Twins are ever gonna have.”

“You mean…” Hannah didn’t dare voice what she was thinking. It was almost too good to be true.

“That’s right. I want to take your place and have you throw three balls at me. If you dunk me, you’re the best amateur pitcher in the state. And if you don’t, I’ll take a crack at you. Fair enough?”

Hannah glanced out over the crowd. There was Wingo Jones and his cameraman. Delores would love this publicity for the Lake Eden Historical Society. And that gave her a really great idea.

“Sure,” she said, giving a big grin for the camera, “but I’m not the best amateur pitcher around.”

No-No looked surprised. “You’re not?”

“Oh, no. My mother is. She’s Delores Swensen, the president of the Lake Eden Historical Society, and she told me all about it. She used to play softball when she was in high school, and she was terrific. If my mother can’t dunk you with three pitches, you can have a crack at her. Is that a deal?”

“It’s a deal,” No-No said, and Hannah almost laughed out loud as she caught sight of her mother’s shocked face. Delores was caught, and she knew it. If she refused to honor Hannah’s bet, she’d fail to support her favorite cause. And if she did honor Hannah’s bet, she’d probably get dunked, but she’d also get a lot more airtime to promote the Lake Eden Historical Society. Hannah figured she’d done what a good daughter should do and helped her mother achieve her goal. Delores deserved it. Oh, boy, did she ever deserve it!

“Did you wait until the third ball on purpose?” Andrea asked, when one of Sally’s waitresses had served their en-trees.

Delores shrugged. She’d gotten at least three minutes of airtime on KCOW television, and she was pleased. And to make her time on camera even sweeter, she hadn’t been dunked. “Of course I waited until the third ball,” she said. “I had to build up the suspense. That’s very important in the television world.”

Hannah, who was sitting between Norman and Mike again, despite her protests that she felt like the mustard in their ham and cheese sandwich, just smiled. Her mother had dunked No-No fair and square and it would probably become a family legend. And when it came to family legends, she had one she had to correct.

“You can stop eating oatmeal,” she said, leaning across the table to speak to Andrea. “You fooled me when you were a kid, and I was just getting even.”

“I know.”

“You do?”

“I knew that day. But I felt guilty for fooling you, and I figured it was my penance.”

“Well, you don’t have to be penitent any longer.”

“Thanks, but I think I’ll still eat oatmeal.”

Hannah stared at her for a moment and then she began to smile. “Don’t tell me…”

“That’s right,” Andrea interrupted. “I discovered I really like it!”

“Hannah?” Lisa motioned to Hannah and Hannah leaned back to talk to her behind Mike’s back. “I just wanted to tell you I really like your earrings. They match your pendant perfectly.”

“Thank you,” Hannah said and left it at that. The earrings had arrived that morning, a special delivery from the jeweler who’d designed her pendant. They were a gift from Ross Barton, the producer of Crisis in Cherrywood. There had been little gifts, or flowers, every week since he’d been gone. When they’d spoken on the phone, he’d told her that he was “fanning the flames to keep them alive.”

“So how’s Cuddles?” Michelle asked Norman. She was sitting between Norman and Lonnie, but Hannah was willing to bet that she didn’t feel like anyone’s sandwich.

“She’s great.” Norman passed her the picture he’d taken of the gray tabby curled up with Moishe in their father’s desk chair. “Cuddles adores Moishe, so we’re going to let them visit at least three times a week.”

Hannah glanced at Mike. He didn’t look happy.

“So…” he said. “Do you think they’ll have any kids? I’ve been thinking about getting a kitten.”

Good heavens! Hannah thought. She had to end this before Mike and Norman tried to out-feline each other.

“Cuddles is spayed,” Hannah explained. “She can’t have kittens. And even if she could, Moishe’s been neutered.”

“Oh, Hannah! How could you?!” Mike looked horrified.

“I didn’t,” Hannah told him. “He was already neutered when he arrived on my doorstep. But if he hadn’t been, I would have taken him to the vet. It’s part of being a responsible pet owner. There are too many homeless dogs and cats.”

“But…” Mike floundered in the face of Hannah’s determination, but he was given a reprieve as Delores began clinking her fork against her champagne flute.

“Could I please have everyone’s attention?” Delores asked. It was designed in the form of a question, but given the force of her personality, of course she had it in no time flat.

“First of all, Lisa and Herb need our help,” Delores said, startling Hannah and causing her to almost stab her napkin instead of the anchovy on her salad.

“I knew I should have told you first,” Lisa said, leaning back to talk to Hannah around the rear of Mike’s chair. “It was just that you were so busy. And all I asked her was if she’d let some of my relatives rent her cabin on Eden Lake for the last week in August.”

“Lisa and Herb are having a family reunion,” Delores went on, “and they need places to rent on Eden Lake. You can help them with that, can’t you, Andrea?”

“Of course,” Andrea said, pulling out some kind of an electronic device and making a note. “The last week in August?”

“Right,” Lisa said, glancing over at Herb, who nodded. “We thought that might be a good time because it’s right before school starts.”

“I’ll take care of it for you. How many people are coming?”

Lisa looked at Herb, and Herb looked at Lisa. Hannah thought both of them seemed a little stunned that their plans were being made so public so soon.

“Maybe three dozen?” Lisa ventured. “We’re doing RSVPs so we can let you know.”

“And maybe a dozen or so more,” Herb added. “Lisa comes from a big family, and so do I.”

“That’s okay. I can handle it. Most people are shutting their cabins down about that time, and they’ll be happy about the extra rental. I can probably get you a deal.”

“In any event, we’ll start the ball rolling for you,” Delores said, smiling at Lisa and Herb. “And now, I’d like to propose a toast to my daughter Michelle for winning the Miss Tri-County Beauty Pageant.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Michelle said, clinking her glass with her mother’s. “And I’d like to propose a toast to Andrea and Tracey, who came in first in the Mother-Daughter contest.”

“And I’d like to…” Tracey paused and turned to her mother. “What did Grandma call that?”

“Propose a toast,” Andrea said.

“Right. I’d like to propose a toast to Bethany, who would have come in first in the Beautiful Baby contest if she hadn’t pulled off the head judge’s hair.”

“It was a toupee,” Andrea explained. “Everybody there thought it was really funny, but Bethie got disqualified for misbehavior.”

Delores shook her head. “They should have given her an award for good taste. It was the worst toupee I’ve ever seen. He must have gotten it used from Digger.”

“Mother!” Hannah gasped, laughing in spite of herself.

Delores laughed right along with her daughters. “I’m a little giddy tonight because I finally finished the project I’ve been working on for months.”

“Tell us about it,” Hannah said, hoping that her mother would reveal what she’d been doing every night in her home office.

“Not quite yet, dear. It’s something I’ve been wanting to do for years, and we’ll have another family celebration if it actually flies.”

Orville and Wilbur beat you to it, Hannah thought, but of course she didn’t say it.

“I’d like to congratulate Norman for winning first place in the photography exhibit,” Delores went on, “and Herb for being the best amateur magician. And I want to thank Mike for saving Hannah from that dreadful man. I’m through talking now. Let’s have dessert!”

The waitress must have been listening, because the dessert cart appeared immediately. There were Hannah’s Blonde Brownies to celebrate the fact that Willa’s killer was behind bars, and a round silver platter that was totally empty.

“Here, Hannah,” Norman said, passing a second photograph to her.

Hannah glanced down at the photo, and a broad smile spread across her face. “It’s perfect, Norman. How did you do that?”

“With my photo program. That’s the beauty of digital photography. I could have changed your dress to any color, but I thought dark green looked better with your hair.”

“It does look better,” Hannah uttered the understatement of the year and gave silent thanks to whoever had designed Norman’s photo program. “Is this the picture that’s going to be in the paper tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you, Norman,” Hannah said, already thinking of other ways she could show her appreciation. And then the waitress approached her, and Hannah noticed that empty silver plate again.

“Why do you have…?” Hannah started to ask, but she stopped as she saw Ruby walking up to their table with a plate liner to fit that silver platter. The glass liner contained at least a dozen deep-fried goodies.

“Milky Ways are on the left, and Snickers are on the right,” Ruby said, placing the liner on the silver platter and smiling at Hannah. “Your mother arranged it, and Sally let me make them right here.”

Ruby left the platter and came around the table to give Hannah a big hug. “Thank you for saving Brianna from making the biggest mistake of her life!”

Hannah hugged her back and accepted the deep-fried Milky Way that Ruby put on her plate. As she took her first bite and came very close to moaning in pleasure, she thought about how lucky she was. It was wonderful to be here with her family and friends, enjoying a once-in-a-life-time treat. And then she caught her mother’s eye. And she wondered exactly what project her mother had finished. And whether that secret project was going to affect all of their lives.

BLONDE BROWNIES

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F., rack in the middle position.

4 one-ounce squares white chocolate (or the equivalent— ¾ cup white chocolate chips will do fine)

¾ cup butter (one-and-a-half sticks)

1½ cups white (granulated) sugar

3 beaten eggs (just whip them up in a glass with a fork)

1 teaspoon coconut extract (or vanilla)

1 cup flour (pack it down in the cup when you measure it)

½ cup pecans

½ cup coconut

½ cup white chocolate chips (I used Ghirardelli)

Prepare a 9-inch by 13-inch cake pan by lining it with a piece of foil large enough to flap over the sides. Spray the foil-lined pan with Pam or other nonstick cooking spray.

Microwave the white chocolate and butter in a microwave-safe mixing bowl for one minute. Stir. (Since chocolate frequently maintains its shape even when melted, you have to stir to make sure.) If it’s not melted, microwave for an additional 20 seconds and stir again. Repeat if necessary.

Stir the sugar into the white chocolate mixture. Feel the bowl. If it’s not so hot it’ll cook the eggs, add them now, stirring thoroughly. Mix in the coconut extract.

Mix in the flour and stir just until it’s moistened.

Put the pecans, coconut and white chocolate chips in a food processor. Chop them all together with the steel blade. (If you don’t have a food processor, you don’t have to buy one just for this recipe—just chop everything up as well as you can with a sharp knife.)

Mix in the chopped ingredients, give a final stir, and spread the batter out in your prepared pan.

Bake at 350 degrees F. for 30 minutes.

Cool the Blonde Brownies in the pan on a metal rack. When they’re thoroughly cool, grasp the edges of the foil and lift the brownies out of the pan. Put them facedown on a cutting board, peel the foil off the back, and cut them into brownie-sized pieces.

Place the squares on a plate and dust lightly with powdered sugar.

Jo Fluke’s Note: I developed these Blonde Brownies for Laura Levine’s party when she launched the third book in her Jaine Austen mystery series, Killer Blonde.

RUBY’S DEEP-FRIED CANDY BARS

Oil for deep-frying (I used canola)

6 or more assorted chocolate-covered candy bars[***]

Buy the candy bars the day before you intend to make these and chill them in their wrappers in your refrigerator overnight.

An hour and a half before you want to serve, mix up the batter from the following ingredients:

1 2/3 cups all-purpose flour (not sifted)

¼ teaspoon salt

¾ teaspoon baking soda

½ teaspoon cream of tartar

2 Tablespoons white (granulated) sugar

1 egg

1 cup whole milk

Combine the flour, salt, baking soda, cream of tartar, and sugar in a medium-sized bowl. Mix it all up together.

In a separate small bowl (I used a 2-cup measuring cup) whisk the egg with the milk until it’s nice and smooth.

Dump the milk and egg mixture into the bowl with the flour mixture and stir until there are no lumps. (The resulting batter is about twice as thick as pancake batter.)

Cover your bowl and chill it in the refrigerator for at least an hour. (Two hours is okay, but no longer than that.)

Hannah’s 1st Note: You can use a heavy pan on the stove to deep-fry these sinful treats as long as you have a reliable deep-frying thermometer. If you do this, you’ll have to keep a sharp eye on the temperature of the oil. It should remain at a fairly constant 375 degrees F. A deep fryer that regulates its own temperature is really preferable, but you don’t have to run right out and buy one just to try this recipe. If you use a deep fryer, DO NOT use the basket. The battered candy bars will stick to it and you’ll never get them loose.

Prepare for deep-frying by heating your oil to 375 degrees F.

Prepare a cooling and draining surface by setting a metal rack over a pan lined with paper towels.

Hannah’s 2nd Note: You will fry these candy bars one at a time and serve them the same way. That’s to keep them from sticking together in the hot oil. You’ll probably find that eager dessert eaters will line up in the kitchen to receive their treats.

Take out a candy bar, unwrap it, and dip it in the chilled batter. Make sure it’s completely covered by the batter. Slide it gently into the hot oil with your batter-covered fingers (or with two forks) and fry it for approximately two and a half minutes, or until nicely browned. Use a slotted metal spoon, or a pair of tongs to remove the candy bar from the hot oil.

Set the candy bar on the rack to drain and leave it there for at least a minute to cool. Then transfer it to a dessert dish or plate and serve.

When all the candy bars have been fried and eaten, you may have batter left over. If you do, dump it into a plastic bag, cut off the end, and squeeze it into the hot oil in a circular pattern. If you haven’t guessed by this time, you’re making funnel cake. Once the funnel cake is nicely browned, remove it from the oil, set it on the rack to drain, and then sprinkle it with powdered sugar. Yum!

WARNING: NEVER LEAVE HOT OIL OR FAT UNATTENDED!!!

Index of Recipes

Swedish Oatmeal Cookies

Pineapple Delights

Walnut-Date Chews

Key Lime Pie

Mock Apple Pie

Bernadette’s Popovers

Fancy Butters for Popovers

Breakfast Omelet

Cappuccino Royales

Mango Bread

Peach Bread

Spicy Dreams

Kitty’s Orange Cake

Chippers

Blonde Brownies

Ruby’s Deep-Fried Candy Bars

Baking Conversion Chart

These conversions are approximate, but they’ll work just fine for Hannah Swensen’s recipes.

VOLUME:

OVEN TEMPERATURE:

Note: Hannah’s rectangular sheet cake pan, 9 inches by 13 inches, is approximately 23 centimeters by 32.5 centimeters.

Summertime has finally arrived in Lake Eden, Minnesota, and Hannah Swensen, owner of The Cookie Jar bakery, is looking forward to warm, lazy days, eating ice cream, and sharing picnics with friends. But when a family reunion takes a deadly turn, it’s up to Hannah to find a killer…

Between baking up a storm for The Cookie Jar and unraveling the mystery of her cat Moishe’s recent strange behavior, Hannah Swensen has a lot on her plate. But she’ll always make time for her business partner, Lisa, who’s in the midst of preparing for a big family reunion. Everyone is delighted when Lisa’s long-lost uncle makes a surprise appearance. No one has heard from Gus in twenty-five years—and his arrival has everyone buzzing with excitement.

Uncle Gus is immediately the hit of the reunion, telling tales of his great success and flashing money for all to see. He’s almost as popular as Hannah’s scrumptious carrot cake, which is also Gus’s favorite dessert. But the next morning, as the whole family gathers for the group photo, one person is missing. Hannah offers to track down Uncle Gus, but her search leads to a shocking find. Over by the bar at the pavilion, she spots two slices of her infamous carrot cake, frosting-side down on the floor—and Gus’s corpse with an ice pick jutting out of his chest!

A little snooping reveals that not everyone was celebrating Gus’s return. And when Hannah unearths more secrets from Gus’s past, she discovers even more people with an axe to grind. Now Hannah’s got to sift through a long list of suspects to find a killer—even if it could mean a recipe for her own demise…

Please turn the page for an exciting sneak peek of CARROT CAKE MURDER coming in March 2008!

Hannah lowered the driver’s window of her cookie truck to enjoy the gentle breeze wafting off the far shore of Eden Lake. Even though the gravel road around the lake was showing wear from the tourists who’d towed heavy boat trailers and campers, she took the ruts at a fast clip to outrun the mosquitoes. She’d been through enough Minnesota summers to know that if she slowed to a crawl, they would descend on her arm in hungry hordes to gorge on a luncheon of A-negative with an anti-B antibody.

It was a perfectly lovely day. The air was scented with a wisp of smoke from a fisherman’s shore lunch campfire and a dampness that reminded her of wet swim suits tossed over a porch rail to dry. The sun was almost straight overhead. When it reached its apex, the shadows of the tall pines that lined the lakeshore would be at their smallest: merely a darker circle on the ground around the tree trunk, no larger than the branches that served as its pattern. It was the final Monday in August, and Hannah was playing hooky—with her mother’s blessing, something that had never happened during her school days at Jordan High. But today Delores and Carrie were also playing hooky. They’d closed their antique shop to attend the Beeseman-Herman Family Reunion, and sent their assistant, Luanne Hanks, next door to Hannah’s cookie-and-coffee shop. She’d arrived to take charge just as Hannah was about to turn the CLOSED sign on the front door to OPEN, and now Hannah was free to enjoy this lazy, end-of-summer day.

Since she was in no hurry, Hannah took the long way around the lake. Attending Lisa and Herb’s family reunion would be fun as long as she didn’t get buttonholed by Uncle Gus again. She’d spent quite enough time with him at the dance last night, wedged into a round wooden booth at the Lake Pavilion with Marge Beeseman on one side and Uncle Gus on the other. Hannah had seriously been considering sliding under the table and crawling out when they weren’t looking; but finally Gus had asked Marge to dance, and she was free to make her escape.

Gus Kaun, Marge’s brother, was back in town after a twenty-five-year absence. To hear him tell about it, he’d gone off to make his fortune and was now a rich, successful businessman. Perhaps everything he’d told Hannah and Marge last night was true, but Hannah didn’t like the way he bragged about everything he’d done and belittled everyone who’d stayed behind in Lake Eden. She especially didn’t like the way he behaved toward Jack Herman, Lisa’s father. There appeared to be bad blood between them, but neither man would talk about it, and no one knew what had caused the rift between the friends who had been inseparable in high school.

Hannah let out a groan as she came around a curve and saw that the public parking lot was full. In addition to the relatives who were staying at nearby lake cottages, it appeared that everyone in town had driven out for the day’s festivities. It wasn’t surprising, considering the size of both families. Lisa was the youngest daughter in the large Herman family. Most of the children had stayed in the area and married into other big families. The same was true for the Beesemans. At last count, over one hundred people had responded to the reunion invitation.

Since there weren’t any vacant parking spots, Hannah created one of her own. That was the beauty of owning a four-wheel-drive cookie truck. When the proper gear was engaged, her Suburban climbed up the three-foot berm surrounding the parking lot and found a semilevel spot on top.

Hannah took the time to spray on mosquito repellent, a precaution she’d learned early in life. Then she retrieved the large box of cookies she’d packed to add to the lunch table. Kids loved cookies, and there were plenty of kids at the family reunion. She held the box with both hands, dug in her heels to walk down the berm, and then hurried toward the picnic tables, where a crowd was gathering by the shore.

Loud, merry voices floated up to greet her, and Hannah spied Lisa standing on top of a picnic table, holding a cheerleading megaphone to her lips. She was wearing a red T-shirt with the legend FAMILY IS EVERYTHING.

“It’s time for the family portrait,” Lisa called out. “We’re going to have the lake in the background, so line up at the edge of the water behind the two chairs for your host and hostess. That’s my dad, Jack Herman, and Herb’s mom, Marge Beeseman. Norman and Herb will tell you what row you’re in if you can’t figure it out for yourself. We want the tallest in the back and the shortest in the front.”

Hannah set the cookies down on the food table and headed for the shore to watch. She knew that Norman had offered to take the group pictures, and perhaps she could help.

“Hannah!”

Hannah knew that voice and thankfully it wasn’t Uncle Gus. “Hi, Mother,” she said, turning to greet the fashionable, dark-haired woman who would die rather than exceed the petite dress size she’d worn in high school.

“Hello, dear.” Delores steadied herself against her eldest daughter’s arm and shook the sand from one white high-heeled sandal. “I wish I hadn’t worn these today, but I didn’t think the beach would be quite this sandy.”

Hannah laughed. “It’s a beach, Mother. By definition it’s sandy.”

“You’re right, of course. But I didn’t think it would be this sandy.” Delores paused for a moment and then she gave Hannah a smile. “Did you like the surprise we sent you this morning?”

For a brief moment Hannah was puzzled, but then she got it. “You mean Luanne. That was really thoughtful of you, Mother. I didn’t think I’d be able to drive out here until we closed.”

“Anything for my dearest daughter.”

Uh-oh! Warning bells sounded in Hannah’s head. Her mother wanted something…but what?

“I hope you can relax and have a good time today. You deserve a little break, Hannah.”

The warning bells turned into klaxons, and yellow caution lights began to blink on and off. “Thanks, Mother,” Hannah responded. And then, just because she couldn’t resist, she asked, “What do you want?”

Her mother reared back in surprise that could have been real or not, Hannah couldn’t tell. “Want? What makes you think I want anything? Just because I called you my dearest daughter and I said you deserved to relax and have a good time doesn’t mean I want anything.”

“I’m sorry,” Hannah said, backpedaling as fast as she could. “I thought there was something you wanted me to do for you.”

“Well…now that you mention it…” Delores gave an elaborate shrug. “You could find Marge’s brother for me. No one’s seen him since the dance last night. When he didn’t show up for the family picture, they sent me to find him. But my shoes…” She glanced down at the stylish sandals. “They’re just not suitable for trying to locate someone. You know what I mean, don’t you, dear?”

Caught like a rat in a trap, like a fly on a sticky spiral of flypaper, like a deer in the headlights, like a moth fluttering helpless against…

“Hannah?”

Delores interrupted her mental chain of similes and Hannah focused on the here and now. Delores had wanted something and now she knew what it was. “Okay, Mother,” she said, bowing to the inevitable. “I’ll go find Uncle Gus for you.”

Nothing was ever easy. Hannah gazed around the small lake cabin. The only living creature inside was a small green frog who hopped determinedly toward the kitchen alcove. Unless Uncle Gus had met a witch who’d turned him into the Frog Prince, he wasn’t here. And since his Jaguar was still parked in the driveway, he’d gone somewhere on foot. But where? Eden lake was far from being the largest body of water in Minnesota, but it would still take several hours to walk around the perimeter searching for him.

The frog gave a croak and Hannah watched as he hopped up on the counter and into the sink. That was when she noticed that there were no dirty breakfast dishes. A quick peek in the refrigerator told her why. The only contents were a bottle of vodka and two cans of beer. If Uncle Gus had wanted something other than a boilermaker for breakfast, he’d probably walked over to the Eden Lake Store to buy food.

Hannah ran a little water in the sink for the frog and headed across the road to the store. It had been one of her favorite places as a child. The old-fashioned bell on the door tinkled as she pushed it open and stepped in. Some things never changed; and Hannah found that comforting. The interior of the store still smelled the way it always had, a curious mixture of ring bologna, dill pickles in a large jar on the counter, and bananas that had gotten too ripe for anything except banana bread.

“Hello, Hannah.” Ava Schultz came out from the back, pushing aside the curtain that concealed her living quarters from her customers’ view. She had been only a year or two behind Delores at Jordan High, and that meant Ava had passed middle age and was fast approaching what advertisers called “the golden years.” A small woman prone to quick movements and rapid speech, she reminded Hannah of a small brown wren, flitting from one part of the store to another and seldom lighting in one place for long. Ava had fashionably cut, perfectly coifed dark brown hair without a touch of gray. Delores and her friends were certain that she wore a wig since Bertie Straub, the owner of the Cut ’n Curl, insisted that Ava had never come in, not even once, to have her hair cut, styled, or colored.

“Hi, Ava.” Hannah walked over to the main attraction, a shiny metal case filled with every available Popsicle flavor. “Anything new since I grew up?”

Ava gave a little laugh and joined her at the case. “See the three boxes in the middle?” she asked, pointing to them. “Those are Rainbows, Scribblers, and Great White.”

“Never heard of them.”

“Of course not. We didn’t have them when you were a child. All we carried then were the double pops in a variety of flavors.”

“Rhubarb,” Hannah said with a grin. “That was my favorite.”

Ava’s mouth dropped open. “They never made rhubarb!” she exclaimed. “You’re pulling my leg, Hannah.”

“You’re right. I should have known I couldn’t put one over on Winnetka County’s leading Popsicle authority.”

“I do like to keep up with it,” Ava admitted. “The kids enjoy hearing about the new products and they’ve got so many.” She pointed to another box. “Look at those Lifesaver Super Pops. From the bottom up, they’re pineapple, orange, cherry, and raspberry. And over here are the Incredible Hulks. They’re part of the Firecracker Super Heroes series. The Hulk is strawberry-kiwi, grape, and green apple. They’ve even got Bigfoot.” Ava reacted to Hannah’s raised eyebrows and explained, “It’s cherry and cotton candy swirled together and shaped like a foot with a gumball. Get it?”

Hannah nodded. “Bigfoot. Cute. Popsicles have come a long way since 1905 when Frank Epperson left his lemonade and stir stick out on the porch and it froze solid overnight.”

“You remembered!” Ava gave her the same smile a teacher might bestow on a favorite student.

“Of course I did.” Hannah smiled back. Ava had told her the story enough times. But she wasn’t here to discuss Popsicles history. She had to find out if Ava had seen Uncle Gus. “Did Gus Kaun come in this morning?” she asked. “They’re lining up for the family-reunion picture and they sent me to find him.”

“I haven’t seen him since he walked back here last night after the dance. And before you can ask, it’s not what you think. He just wanted me to open up the store so he could get some milk to go with that carrot cake you gave him.”

Hannah nodded, even though she hadn’t been thinking what Ava thought she’d been thinking. “So you opened the store for him?”

“Of course I did. A customer’s a customer, even after midnight. He bought eggs and bacon for breakfast, too. Then we had a drink and waited for the cars to clear out of the parking lot. He said he hid your cake behind the bar and he was going back to eat it as soon as no one else was around. I think that was so he wouldn’t have to share. We went to school together, you know. Gus was never any good at sharing, not even in kindergarten.”

Hannah thought about that for a moment. One the one hand, she was pleased that Gus liked her Special Carrot Cake so much that he hadn’t wanted to give any away. On the other hand, she’d given him a half-dozen pieces, one of which he could have shared with Ava.

“Anyway,” Ava went on, “the last time I saw Gus, he was heading back to the pavilion with his sack of groceries. He was supposed to come back to pay me for them this morning, but he never showed.”

Ominous music began to play in the recesses of Hannah’s mind. It sounded like a cross between Bach’s “Toccatta and Fugue” and the soundtrack of a bad horror movie, but she didn’t have time to think about that now. “What time was it when Gus left here last night?”

“A little after one-thirty. I got ready for bed, that takes about ten minutes, and I looked at the clock before I turned off the lights. It was a quarter to two.”

Hannah reached reflexively for he steno pad, the kind she used for murder cases, but she quickly thought better of it. This was nothing more than a missing person, someone who hadn’t shown up for the family-reunion picture. Uncle Gus hadn’t left for good, for his car was still here; but he could have found a warmer, more hospitable place to sleep than the single bunk in his unheated lake cabin. There had been at least five dozen women at the dance last night. One of them might have thought a middle-aged braggart like Uncle Gus was irresistible. He could have waited until no one was around and walked to her cabin bearing gifts of carrot cake and breakfast. Perhaps he’d decided to skip the group photo and was sitting at her kitchen table right now, eating bacon and eggs with her carrot cake for dessert…

…or not, Hannah muttered under her breath, and then she turned to Ava. “I’d better get going. They’ll be ready to take that photo soon.”

“I hope you find Gus. If you do, will you do me a favor?”

“What?” Hannah asked, knowing better than to promise blindly.

“Right after they snap that picture, grab Gus by the ear and march hum back here to pay his bill. You can tell him I said that groceries don’t grow on trees.”

There was only one more logical place to look, and Hannah headed straight for it. The Lake Pavilion was clearly deserted. The sandy parking lot was empty of cars and contained only a crumpled cigarette pack, the remnants of what had once been a blue-and-white bandanna, and a neatly clipped coupon for a two-fer dinner at Perkins’ Pancake House.

As she approached the entrance to the white clapboard structure, Hannah felt an odd prickling at the back of her neck. She’d experienced that sensation before and it had preceded something unpleasant, something bad, something like discovering a dead body. She told herself that Uncle Gus was fine and she’d find nothing but the debris of a party inside, but her feet dragged a bit as she approached the front entrance.

Last night the pavilion had looked majestic, a gleaming white edifice in the moonlight, its open shutters spilling out warm yellow light into the humid blanket of summer darkness. Music had set up joyful vibrations in the walls, the wooden chairs, the old chrome barstools, and the revelers themselves, causing laughter and loud voices to peal out in a cacophony of raucous gaiety. Today it was…Hannah paused, both in mind and step, attempting to think of the word. Sad. The word was sad. The white paint was peeling, the shutters were warped from exposure to the elements, and there was a gaggle of brown beer bottles leaning up against the front of the building. The party was over. Everyone had left. All that remained was the abandoned pavilion with its curling shards of paint.

Hannah tried the front door, but it was locked just as she’d thought it would be. She knocked, calling out for Uncle Gus, but there was no answer. A nonlocal person might have gone back to ask Ava how to get the key, but Hannah had been born and raised in Lake Eden and she knew all about the Lake Pavilion. In a town where the lover’s lane was regularly patrolled, and the parking lot at the rear of Jordan High was peppered with arc lights, the Lake Pavilion was the sole haven for teenage couples seeking privacy.

The loose shutter was at the back of the pavilion, the third from the corner. Hannah found the proper one, tugged on the padlock that had been rigged to open, and removed it. Gaining access to the pavilion was every bit as easy as her date for the high-school prom had told her it would be. She hadn’t believed him at the time, and she wouldn’t have gone out to the pavilion with him in any case—especially since she knew that her father had bribed him with the promise of a summer job if he’d invite Hannah to be his date for the dance.

Hannah lifted the shutter and propped it open with the stick that was attached to the side of the window frame. The opening was at waist height, and she swung her leg up and over the sill. A moment later she was sitting on the sill with both legs hanging down inside the building, preparing to push off with her hands and jump down.

She landed hard, which wasn’t surprising. She’d never been the athletic type. Since the shutter was at the back of the pavilion, not visible from the road, she left it open for illumination.

All was quiet within. The interior had an air of abandonment, and the only sign of life Hannah heard was the buzzing of several flies that had been trapped inside. As a child she’d believed that if she recorded the high-pitched buzzing of house flies and played it back ever so slowly, she’d hear tiny little voices saying things like, “Dig in. Hannah spilled strawberry jam on the kitchen table!” and “Watch out! Her mother’s got a flyswatter!”

A phalanx of giant trash barrels sat against he wall. Several were close to overflowing with plastic plates and coffee-laden Styrofoam cups from the dessert buffet. Another barrel was marked with a familiar symbol, and it contained bottles and cans for recycling.

Hannah wrinkled up her nose. There was an odd combination of scents in the air: a spicy sweetness from the dessert buffet, the acrid scent of coffee that had perked too long in the pot, the lingering fragrance of perfumes and colognes, and the stale odor of spilled beer and liquor. Those smells were ordinary, what you might expect in a place where a large party had been held. But there was another scent under it all, cloying and sharp, and slightly metallic. It reminded Hannah of something unpleasant, something bad, something…but she didn’t want to think about that now.

She fought the urge to dig in, to start picking up paper napkins, cups, glasses, and bottles and stuffing them into the appropriate trash barrels. She reminded herself that Lisa and Herb had organized a crew of relatives to clean the pavilion this afternoon, and nobody expected her to do it. Her number-one priority was to find Uncle Gus so that they could take the family picture.

A shaft of sunlight streamed through the open window, setting dust motes twirling. As Hannah watched, several more flies buzzed by the beam of sunlight on their way to the mahogany bar against the far wall. The top of the bar was empty except for a brown grocery sack, the type that Ava used at the Eden Lake Store. Uncle Gus had been here, and he must have forgotten to take his groceries when he left.

Another group of flies with the same destination flew in. If this kept up, Lisa and Herb would never get the insects out in time for the program they’d planned tonight. Hannah hurried to the kitchen, soaked a rag with water, and grabbed a bottle of degreaser. Last night they’d set out the dessert buffet on the bar, and it was apparent that whoever had wiped it down hadn’t done a good job. She’d clean it thoroughly right now so that no more flies would come in.

Hannah had almost reached her goal when she noticed something. She stopped abruptly and peered down at the floor. The flies weren’t the only insect group attracted to this particular locale. There was a line of black carpenter ants streaming toward the bar and disappearing behind it. They must be looping around because there was a returning line of ants and they were carrying morsels of something. Carpenter ants seldom foraged for food during the daylight hours, but their scouts must have discovered something tasty enough to call out the troops.

Hannah moved closer and gave a groan when she saw what had attracted the ants. They were retrieving sweet crumbs from a piece of her carrot cake that had been dropped, cream cheese icing side down, and mashed to a pulp.

For a brief moment, Hannah was livid. Uncle Gus had dropped a piece of her Special Carrot Cake and stepped on it! What a waste! But then she spotted something sticking out from behind the bar, something that looked like…a foot. And the ominous organ music that had been playing in her mind increased in volume until the crashing chords were almost deafening.

“Oh, murder!” Hannah breathed, hoping that her words weren’t prophetic. But she recognized the shoe, the rich buttery leather that shouted designer footwear with an exorbitant price tag. And the trousers. They were made of imported Italian silk and they matched a well-tailored jacket that had been paired with a cream silk shirt and a tie that had probably cost more than she made all week at The Cookie Jar. She’d seen the ensemble last night at the dance and she knew who had been wearing it.

Hannah took a bracing breath and made her feet move forward so that she could see behind the bar. Uncle Gus had come back to the pavilion to eat his carrot cake, but he’d only enjoyed a bite or two. And now, as she stood there staring, he was lying face down on the floor with the other pieces of cake scattered around him.

She shut her eyes and then opened them. Nothing had changed. There was no doubt that Uncle Gus was dead. Blunt-force trauma had taken an extremely visible toll, and it wasn’t a pretty sight. She wanted to find something to cover him, so the flies couldn’t gather, but she knew she shouldn’t touch anything. Uncle Gus hadn’t cracked his own skull with the blood-splattered Louisville Slugger leaning up against a bar stool. This was a murder scene, and she had to call…

“Hannah?”

The voice startled her and she turned to look. Herb was standing at the open window.

“You can stop looking. We took the picture without Uncle Gus. If he shows up later, we’ll take another one.”

“He won’t show up.” Her voice sounded strained to her own ears, and Hannah cleared her throat.

“What do you mean, He won’t show up?”

Hannah cleared her throat again. “He’s…he…call Mike and Bill on your cell phone, will you? It’s important.”

“Okay, but why?”

“They need to come out here. Uncle Gus is…gone.” She forced out the words, knowing full well that the woman who hated euphemisms had just used one.

“You mean he left the family reunion without even saying goodbye?”

“Not exactly.” Hannah winced as she avoided a direct answer once again. “Just tell them to hurry. And don’t let anyone in until they get here.”

A HANNAH SWENSEN MYSTERY WITH RECIPES

CHERRY
CHEESECAKE
MURDER

JOANNE FLUKE

Savor the Praise for Joanne Fluke’s
Wickedly Tasty Hannah Swensen Mysteries!

“Mm, mm, Fluke’s fans can’t wait for the next confection in the series to be served up.”

—Winston-Salem Journal

“For an enjoyable cozy mystery and lots of new recipes, readers need look no further.”

—Mystery News

“Fluke has the recipe for appetizing mysteries.”

—Long Beach Press-Telegram

“The realistic and delightful characters make this a lively read.”

—Mystery Scene

“With all the cooking and investigating, what more could you want?”

—I Love a Mystery

“This series may remind some of another well-known series that includes recipes, but it is better!”

—Cozies, Capers and Crimes

“Wacky and delightful characters, plus tempting recipes make this lighthearted offering sure to please the palate of any cozy fan.”

—Publishers Weekly

“Joanne Fluke imparts a feeling of fun in her books that makes reading them a delight. The addition of mouthwatering recipes throughout the story clinches the popularity of this series.”

—Times Record News

“An always tasty series.”

—Library Journal

“Her expertise in creating yummy recipes and believable characters will have dessert lovers and mystery fans feeling like part of the crew that helps Hannah solve her latest case.”

—Romantic Times

Books by Joanne Fluke

CHOCOLATE CHIP COOKIE MURDER

STRAWBERRY SHORTCAKE MURDER

BLUEBERRY MUFFIN MURDER

LEMON MERINGUE PIE MURDER

FUDGE CUPCAKE MURDER

SUGAR COOKIE MURDER

PEACH COBBLER MURDER

CHERRY CHEESECAKE MURDER

KEY LIME PIE MURDER

Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation

This book is dedicated to my best friend, Shiva.

It’s not the same without you, girl.

Contents

Acknowledgments

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Index of Recipes

Baking Conversion Chart

Acknowledgments

In Memory Of:
Ikuko, a lady I wish I had been fortunate
enough to meet.
Bob Rogers, talented friend.
And Little Al and Betty.

For Ruel, who’s always there when I need him.
And for the kids, even when they ask, “Are we eating
another experiment?
Or can we have a real dessert?”

Thank you to our friends and neighbors:
Mel and Kurt, Lyn and Bill, Gina and the kids,
Adrienne, Jay, Bob M., Amanda, John B., Trudi,
Dale C., Dr. Bob and Sue, Laura Levine and Mark,
Richard and Krista, Nina, the princess of cheesecake,
and Mark Baker, who’s been hoping for this title.

Thank you to my editor’s parents,
Mr. and Mrs. Scognamiglio.
Without you, John wouldn’t be here.
And without John, Hannah Swensen wouldn’t be here!

Thank you to Hiro Kimura, my cover artist, who truly
outdid himself with those scrumptious cherries on the
cover, and thanks to Lou Malcanji for putting it all
together in such a delectable dust jacket.
Thanks also to all the other talented folks at
Kensington who keep Hannah sleuthing and baking up a storm.

Thank you to Dr. Rahhal and Trina for all you do.

Many hugs to Terry Sommers for proving that you can
bake every single cookie and dessert recipe in this
book and go on to live a normal life.

The Mini Cherry Cheesecake recipe is from Jane at
Mysteries To Die For in Thousand Oaks, CA—
Thanks, Jane!

Thanks to Marcy for suggesting the All-Nighter
Cookies, and to Betty for the Double Flake Cookies.

Thank you to Jamie Wallace for her superb work on
my Web site
MurderSheBaked.com

Thanks to Lois Hirt, who knows almost everything
about dentists, and a hug for Kamary, who came all
the way from Michigan to meet me.

A big thank you to everyone who e-mailed or
snail-mailed.
In a perfect world, The Cookie Jar would be just
around the corner and we could all meet for
coffee and cookies.
(I’ve got dibs on the Mock Turtles!)

Prologue

Lake Eden, Minnesota—Wednesday, the Second Week in March

“Cut!”

Dean Lawrence had directed at plenty of locations, but Lake Eden was the worst. These yokels raised boredom to a whole new level. The chubby broad who ran the bakery made a great cherry cheesecake, and that was the only good thing he could say about Podunk Central.

Nothing was working today. They were never going to get this scene. The local lethargy must be catching, and it was time to kick some butt.

“What’s with you, Burke? You’re supposed to make people weep for you! Get up. I’ll show you what I want here.” Dean pushed Burke out of camera range and got ready to play the scene himself.

Midway through the scene, he noticed that the redhead who baked his cheesecakes was staring at him with new respect. Maybe she’d be a little more receptive, now that he’d impressed her with his talent. He opened the center desk drawer, pulled out the prop gun, and stared at it while he waited for Lynne’s line.

“I love you, Jody! Don’t do this to me!”

It was a perfect reading of the line and Dean was glad he’d decided to use her in his next movie. He put on a tortured expression as the camera came in for his close-up, and gazed at Lynne with tears welling in his eyes. “I’m not doing it to you, Li’l Sis. I’m doing it for me.”

He raised the gun to his temple. Lynne looked horrified, exactly as she should, and he gave her a last, sad smile. Then he squeezed the trigger.

The gun went off and Lynne screamed for real. Their director was dead.

Chapter
One

Two Weeks Earlier

Hannah Swensen did her best to convince her sleep-logged mind that the insistent electronic beeping she heard was in the soundtrack of her dream. A huge semi tractor-trailer was backing up to the kitchen door of her bakery, The Cookie Jar, to deliver the mountain of chocolate chips she’d ordered for the gazillion Chocolate Chip Crunch Cookies she’d promised to bake for her biggest fan, Porky Pig, who’d finally overcome his stutter with the help of a voice coach and was now being sworn in as president of the United States…

The dream slipped away like the veils of Salome, and Hannah groaned as she clicked on the light. No doubt her dream was the result of watching Cartoon Network until two in the morning and eating two dishes of chocolate ice cream with a whole bag of microwave popcorn. She silenced the alarm and threw back the covers, sitting up in bed in an effort to fight her urge to burrow back into her warm blankets and pull them up, over her head.

“Come on, Moishe,” she said, nudging the orange-and-white lump that nestled at the foot of her bed. “Daylight in the swamps, dawn in the desert, and sunrise in Lake Eden, Minnesota.”

Moishe’s yellow eyes popped open. He looked out the window into the darkness beyond, then swiveled his head to stare at her accusingly. While most people didn’t think cats could understand “human-speak,” Hannah wasn’t most people. This was primarily because Moishe wasn’t most cats. “Sorry,” Hannah apologized, backpedaling under his unblinking yellow gaze. “It’s not really daylight in Lake Eden, but it will be soon and I have to get up for work.”

Moishe seemed to accept her explanation. He opened his mouth in a wide yawn and gave the little squeak in the middle that Hannah found endearing. Then he began to stretch.

Hannah never tired of watching her previously homeless tomcat go through his morning calisthenics. Moishe rolled onto his back and gazed up at the bedroom ceiling. His right front leg came up in a fascist salute and after a slight pause, his left front leg shot up to join it. Then his back legs pushed toward the foot of the bed and spread out in a tensely inverted “Y,” like the handholds of a witching rod. Once his whole body was stretched taut, he began to quiver like the proverbial bowlful of Jell-O.

The kitty quiver lasted for several seconds and then Moishe flipped from back to stomach. This was the position Hannah called “shoveled,” because it was about as flat as a cat could get without the aid of a steamroller. All four legs were stretched out to the max and Moishe’s chin was perfectly parallel to the worn nap on the chenille bedspread Hannah had rescued from Helping Hands, Lake Eden’s only thrift store.

The part that came next was Hannah’s favorite. Moishe’s back legs moved forward, first the left and then the right, in what her first grade friends had called “giant steps” in their games of Captain, May I. This continued by awkward measure until Moishe’s rear was up in the air, his hips so high it turned him into a kitty teepee. Once the apex had been reached, he gave a little sigh, a little shake, a little flick of both ears simultaneously, and then he made a big leap to the floor to follow Hannah down the hallway.

“Hold on,” Hannah said, hopping from foot to foot as she pulled on her fleece-lined moccasin slippers. “You know you can’t open the Kibble Keeper by yourself.”

After a short trip down the hall spent dodging Moishe’s efforts to catch the laces on her slipper, Hannah reached the kitchen. She flicked on the bank of fluorescent lights and winced as the walls shimmered dazzling white to her sleep-deprived eyes. Perhaps it was time to paint her walls a darker color, a color like black, especially if she kept operating on three hours of sleep. Last night had been another night in a long string of nights spent in her living room, stretched out on the sofa with a twenty-three pound cat perched on her chest, watching television until the wee small hours of the morning and wrestling with a decision that would have stymied even Solomon.

An indignant yowl brought Hannah back to matters at hand and she opened the broom closet to lift out the Kibble Keeper. It was a round, gray, bucket-type container with a screw-on lid that was guaranteed to keep out even the most persistent pet. Hannah had found it at the Tri-County Mall after Moishe had defeated every other means she’d tried to keep him from helping himself to his own breakfast. It wasn’t that she begrudged him food. It was the cleanup that made feline self-service dining unfeasible. Hannah had swept up and dumped out the last kitty crunchy she was about to sweep and dump, and the salesclerk at the pet store had assured her that no living being that lacked opposable thumbs could open the Kibble Keeper. It was made of a resin that was impervious to biting and scratching, knocking it over and batting it around had no effect at all on its sturdy exterior, and it had been tested on a tiger at the Minnesota Zoo and come through with flying colors.

Even though Hannah knew that Moishe was physically incapable of unscrewing the lid, she still concealed her actions from him. It wasn’t wise to underestimate the cat who was capable of so much more than the ordinary tabby.

“Here you go,” she said, scooping out a generous helping and dumping it into his bowl. “Finish that and I’ll give you some more.”

While her feline roommate crunched, Hannah poured herself a cup of steaming coffee and sent a silent message of thanks to whoever had invented the automatic timer. She took one sip, swallowed painfully, and added a coffee ice cube from the bag she always kept in the freezer. A regular ice cube would dilute what her grandmother had called “Swedish Plasma,” and that was why Hannah kept one ice cube tray filled with frozen coffee. She needed her caffeine full-strength in the morning.

Several big gulps and Hannah felt herself beginning to approach a wakeful state. That meant it was time to shower and dress. The lure of a second cup of coffee would make her hurry, and she was awake enough not to doze off and turn as red as a lobster under the steaming spray.

Hannah reentered the kitchen eleven minutes later, her red hair a damp mass of towel-dried curls, and clad in jeans and a dark green sweatshirt that proclaimed CHOCOLATE IS A VEGETABLE—IT COMES FROM BEANS in bright yellow script. She’d just poured herself that second cup of coffee when the phone rang.

Hannah reached for the bright red wall phone that hung over the kitchen table, but she stopped in midstretch. “What if it’s Mike? Or Norman?”

“Rrowww!” Moishe responded, looking up at the phone as it rang again. “Yowwwww!”

“You’re right. So what if they both proposed? And so what if they’re waiting for me to choose between them? I’m thirty years old, I run my own business, and I’m a sensible adult. Nobody’s going to rush me into a decision I might regret later…including Mother.”

As Hannah uttered the final word, Moishe’s ears flattened against his head and he bristled like a Halloween cat. He despised Delores Swensen and Hannah’s mother had a drawer full of shredded pantyhose to prove it.

“Don’t worry. If it’s Mother, you don’t have to speak to her.”

Hannah took a deep breath and grabbed the phone, sinking down in a chair to answer. If it was her mother, the conversation would take a while and there were bound to be unveiled references to her unmarried state. If it was her younger sister, Andrea, the conversation would include the latest about Hannah’s two nieces, Tracey and Bethany, and it would also take a while. If it was Michelle, Hannah’s youngest sister, they were bound to have a discussion about college life at Macalester College and that would also eat up the minutes Hannah had left before she had to go to work.

“Hello?” Hannah greeted her caller, hoping mightily that it wasn’t either of the two men in her life.

“What took you so long? I was almost ready to give up, but I knew you wouldn’t leave for work this early.”

It was a man, but it wasn’t either of the two in question and Hannah breathed a sigh of relief. It was Andrea’s husband, Bill, the only other early riser in the Swensen family. “Hi, Bill. What’s up?”

“I am. I’m out here at the sheriff’s station and we’ve got a problem.”

Hannah glanced at the clock. It was only five-fifteen. Bill kept regular hours now that he was the Winnetka County Sheriff. He never went to the office until eight unless there was an emergency. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“You bet there is. And you’re the only one who can fix this mess!”

“What mess?” Hannah had visions of homes burglarized, motorists carjacked, public buildings vandalized, and murder victims stacked up like cordwood. But if crime was running rampant in Lake Eden, she certainly hadn’t heard about it. And how could she possibly be the only one who could fix it?

“It’s Mike. You really did a number on him, Hannah. One minute he’s on top of the world, telling everybody that you’re bound to choose him. The next minute he’s all down in the mouth, absolutely sure that you’re going to ditch him and marry Norman.”

Hannah did her best to think of something to say. It wasn’t her fault that Mike couldn’t handle the stress of waiting while she made up her mind which proposal to accept. It had been only a week. A girl, even one whose mother thought her old enough to qualify as an old maid, was entitled to all the time she needed for such an important decision.

“Look, Hannah. I know it’s not totally your fault, but I’ve got a dangerous situation here.”

“Dangerous?”

“That’s right. Mike’s supposed to be my head detective, my right hand when it comes to solving crime. The way he’s acting right now, he couldn’t catch a perp even if the guy stood in front of his desk holding a sign that said, I DID IT. I mean, what if we have a real murder, or something like that? What’ll happen then?”

Hannah let out her breath. She hadn’t even realized she’d been holding it. “So what do you want me to do?”

“Make up your mind so Mike can get back to work. Fish, or cut bait…you know?”

“But I can’t rush my decision. It’s just too important.”

“I understand,” Bill said with a sigh, “and I’m not really trying to influence you. I just know it’ll be Mike in the long run. If you love him as much as I think you do, you’ll accept his proposal today and put him out of his misery. He’s the right one for you and that’s not just my opinion. Everybody in the department thinks so, too.”

“I’ll…uh…think about it,” Hannah said, settling for the most noncommittal reassurance in her arsenal.

“Think fast. And keep your fingers crossed that we don’t need Mike for anything until you give him a yes.”

Hannah promised she would and hung up the phone. She could understand Bill’s point. A week was a long time to keep anyone on hold, but she was no closer to making a decision than she’d been on the day both men had proposed. Mike was handsome and exciting. Norman was dependable and endearing. Mike made her stomach do flips when he kissed her, and Norman’s kisses made her feel warm and tingly all over. She wished she could have both of them, but she couldn’t. And there was no way she could give up one for the other.

Before Hannah could take another swallow of her coffee, the phone rang again. She grabbed it in midring, certain that it was Bill who’d forgotten to tell her something. “What did you forget, Bill?”

“It’s not Bill, it’s Lisa,” Hannah’s young partner replied. “I just wanted you to know that you don’t have to hurry to work this morning.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m down here at The Cookie Jar already.”

Hannah glanced up at the clock. It was five-thirty and Lisa wasn’t due at work until seven. “Why so early?” she asked, hoping that Lisa hadn’t had a fight with her new husband.

“Herb had to get up at four and after he left, I couldn’t go back to sleep.”

“Why did he have to get up at four?”

“He’s driving to Fargo for the Traffic Tradeshow.”

“What’s that?” Hannah asked, although she suspected that if she’d remained silent, Lisa would have gone on to tell her.

“It’s everything to do with traffic and parking, like signs, parking meters, and traffic signals. Mayor Bascomb called us at home last night and he wants Herb to check out the price on parking meters.”

“Parking meters?” Hannah was shocked. Parking had always been free in Lake Eden.

“That’s right. He told Herb to find out how much it would cost to put them up on Main Street.”

“On Main Street?”

“Yes, but Herb thinks it’s a smokescreen.”

“A smokescreen?” Hannah repeated, feeling more and more like an obedient mynah bird.

“There’s a group that wants Lake Eden Liquor shut down. They say the city shouldn’t be making a profit on the sale of alcohol.”

Hannah gave a little snort. Every few years someone organized a group to close down the municipal liquor store. “I wish people would learn that you can’t legislate morality. Closing the liquor store isn’t going to cut down on drinking.”

“I know, but this time they’re really serious. They’re collecting signatures to get it on the next ballot. Herb’s sure that’s why Mayor Bascomb wants an estimate on those parking meters.”

Hannah took another slug of coffee, but she still didn’t see the connection. “What do parking meters have to do with the liquor store?”

“Herb thinks the mayor’s going to give them a choice. Close the liquor store and put parking meters on Main Street to make up for the lost revenue, or keep it open and forget about the tax increase they’ll have to pay to get the parking meters installed in the first place.”

“That ought to work,” Hannah said with a smile. The mayor was almost as devious as her mother.

“I think so, too. Everybody wants to park for free and nobody wants to pay more taxes. Anyway, I’m here and you don’t have to come in until you want to. You need some time to think.”

“Think?”

“About Mike and Norman. Mayor Bascomb asked Herb if you’d made up your mind yet.”

“He did?” Hannah was surprised. “I didn’t know he cared one way or the other.”

“Well, he does. He wants you to marry Norman. He says it’s your civic duty.”

“What!”

“That’s exactly what Herb said, but Mayor Bascomb explained it. He said that they can always hire a new detective, but finding a dentist to take over the clinic will be a lot harder.”

“Wait a second…the mayor thinks the man I don’t marry will leave town?”

“Yes, and he’s not the only one. Herb says Mike’s not going to stick around and feel like a loser if you end up marrying Norman. He’s too proud to eat crow in front of the whole town. And Norman’s not going to stay here and watch you live happily ever after with Mike. He really loves you and it would be too painful for him. Not only that, if Norman leaves, Carrie will probably go with him, because he’ll be all depressed and she’ll think he needs her. And then your mother will end up losing a partner.”

“Oh, boy!” Hannah groaned under her breath. This was a whole new set of problems to consider. She’d been thinking about how her choice would affect her own happiness, but now it seemed it could have ramifications on the whole town of Lake Eden!

“Anyway, take your time about coming in. I’ll see you when you get here.”

Hannah said goodbye and turned to look at Moishe. “I wish I’d known sooner. Turns out we could have slept in.”

“Rrrow!” Moishe replied, and Hannah thought he looked disappointed. Sleeping in while nestled at the foot of the bed, half buried in the fluffy comforter, was one of Moishe’s favorite activities.

“Oh, well. I guess I might as well carry out the garbage and…”

Before Hannah could finish telling an uninterested feline her plans, the phone rang again and she snatched it up. “Hello?”

“Hi, Hannah. It’s Barbara Donnelly. I know it’s early, but I wanted to catch you before you left for work.”

“Hi, Barbara.” Hannah grabbed the steno notebook she kept on the kitchen table. Barbara was the head secretary at the sheriff’s station and she always ordered cookies for the staff meetings she held on Monday afternoons. “Do you want cookies for this afternoon?”

“Yes. Give me three dozen Black and Whites. I’ll send one of the girls in to pick them up. On second thought, better make it four dozen. They’re our favorites. But that’s not the reason I called. I need a favor.”

“What’s that?” Hannah asked, wise enough not to agree before she heard what Barbara wanted.

“I’m begging you to put an end to this whole thing today.”

Hannah was 95 percent certain she knew what Barbara meant, but she went for the remaining 5 percent. “What whole thing is that?”

“The whole thing with Mike. He’s driving us all nuts. I had to assign three different secretaries to him in the past week.”

“Why so many?”

“Because after a day with him, they come to my office and ask for reassignment. It’s just too stressful working for a boss that’s walking around whistling one minute and chewing his fingernails the next. Of course I hope you choose Mike, but that’s up to you. I just want you to make a decision today and put my secretaries out of their misery.”

“I’ll try,” Hannah promised and signed off. She’d no sooner hung up the phone than it rang again. “Okay, okay,” she plucked the receiver from its cradle. “Hello?”

“It’s Doc Bennett, Hannah.”

In one fluid motion, Hannah stretched out the phone cord, poured herself another mug of coffee, and sat back down in her chair. “What’s up, Doc?”

“Wery funny,” Doc Bennett responded in his Elmer Fudd voice, the same voice that had taken the fear out of going to the dentist for so many Lake Eden children. “Seriously, Hannah, what’s up is Norman.”

“What do you mean?”

“That poor boy isn’t getting any sleep and he called to ask me to fill in for him again today. It’s a real pity, Hannah. I don’t know how much more of this Norman can take. So far, he hasn’t made any dental mistakes that I know of, but it’s only a matter of time before he fills the wrong tooth, or something even worse. What’s taking you so long, anyway? If you love Norman as much as I think you do, you should accept his proposal today and let him get some sleep!”

Hannah was stymied. She didn’t know what to say. “I…I’m…”

“I know it’s an important decision, but you’ve taken long enough. Will you try to decide today?”

“I’ll try,” Hannah agreed, doubting that she’d be successful.

“Good. I’ve got to go. Mrs. Wahlstrom is coming in early for a cleaning and I haven’t even had breakfast yet.”

Doc Bennett hung up abruptly and Hannah was left holding a dead line. As she hung up on her end, she uttered a phrase she’d never use within Tracey or Bethany’s hearing, even though Bethany was too young to understand it and Tracey had probably heard it before, and then she turned to Moishe. “They’re ganging up on me. What am I going to do?”

Moishe gave her a wide-eyed look that Hannah interpreted to mean he didn’t have the foggiest idea. She reached down to pet him, but before her hand connected with his orange-and-white fur, the phone rang again.

“Uh-oh,” Hannah breathed as Moishe’s ears flattened against his head and he started to bristle. Her kitty caller I.D. wasn’t infallible, but nine times out of ten that bristle meant her mother was on the phone. When Moishe’s tail started to switch back and forth like a metronome, Hannah reached for the phone. Her mother was nothing if not persistent. If she didn’t reach Hannah at home, she’d wait and call her down at The Cookie Jar. “Hello, Mother.”

“You really shouldn’t answer the phone that way,” Delores gave her standard greeting.

“I know, but you’d be disappointed if I didn’t.”

“Perhaps,” Delores conceded. “I need to talk to you about something important, Hannah. And I want you to know that normally I’d never interfere…”

But, Hannah provided the next word. She knew it was coming, although she chose not to say it aloud.

“But Carrie just called me and we have a situation on our hands. Do you know that Norman’s down at Hal & Rose’s Cafe right now, slogging down coffee as fast as Rose can pour it?”

“No,” Hannah answered truthfully.

“Well, he is. Rose called Carrie to tell her. She said she tried to get Norman to go easy on the coffee, but he said this could be the most important day of his life and he wasn’t about to sleep through it.”

Hannah groaned. “Norman thinks I’m going to give him an answer today?”

“It’s not just today. Carrie says he’s been like this every day since he proposed. And to make matters even worse, Mike’s down there too. He’s sitting right across from Norman in the back booth, matching him cup for cup.”

“At least it’s not beer for beer,” Hannah commented, grinning slightly.

“Shame on you, Hannah Louise! That’s not one bit funny and you know it. I’ve done my very best to keep mum, but this time you’ve gone too far. I didn’t raise you to be cruel!”

“Cruel?” Hannah was shocked.

“What else would you call it? I’m serious, Hannah. Enough is enough and it’s time for you to stop dithering. You should choose which man you want to marry, tell him so, and let the other down gently. That’s what a lady would do under the same circumstances. Drawing it out the way you’ve done is unkind to everyone concerned.”

Hannah was silent for a long moment, considering what her mother had said. Delores did have a point. “You’re right, Mother.”

There was a crash as Delores dropped the phone. And then a scrabbling noise as she picked it up again. “I’m sorry. Did you say I was right?”

“That’s what I said.”

“Well…” Hannah’s mother sounded slightly breathless and extremely shocked. “Does that mean that you agree to settle this once and for all?”

“Yes, I’ll settle it.”

“And you’ll do it today?”

“I’ll do it right now. Talk to you later, Mother.”

Hannah hung up the phone to cut off any further questions, filled Moishe’s food bowl one last time, grabbed her coat and car keys, ignored the phone that was frantically ringing again, and headed out the door to keep her date with destiny at Hal & Rose’s Cafe.

Chapter
Two

Twenty minutes later, Hannah skidded around the corner of Third and Main in the candy-apple red vehicle the Lake Eden kids called the “cookie truck,” and nosed up to the snowbank that Hal had left when he shoveled the sidewalk in front of the café. The plate glass window was steamed up and she couldn’t see inside, but Mike’s Hummer was parked on one side of her and Norman’s sedan was on the other. Since there was a layer of ice on both windshields, Hannah surmised that they must have arrived the moment Rose unlocked the door for the DelRay employees who stopped for breakfast before their early morning shift.

Hannah got out of her truck and headed for the door. She pulled it open with a clean jerk and marched right in. The first thing she saw was a blackboard hanging on the back wall by the curtained poker room. It said, NORMAN vs. MIKE—BETS CLOSE AT NOON TODAY.

Hannah hadn’t thought she could get any angrier, but she’d been wrong. One glance at that blackboard made her blood boil. She gave a most unladylike snort as she spotted Norman and Mike sitting in the back booth and she imagined she could hear the strains of theme music from Jaws as she headed across the floor.

Mike nudged Norman as he spotted her. Norman looked up and began to frown. Hannah figured that was because of her thundercloud expression. It was too early in the morning to assume a poker face and she didn’t care if the whole town of Lake Eden knew that she was steaming mad. She didn’t appreciate receiving five phone calls before six in the morning from people who were dead set on giving her unwanted advice. This was her life, these were her proposals, and she was the one who’d have to live with her decision. There was no way she enjoyed being the subject of a very public betting pool at Hal & Rose’s Cafe, and it was long past time to put an end to the speculation.

Hannah strode forward with purpose, her rubber-soled boots thudding against the floor. She was unaware that the other patrons in Hal & Rose’s had swiveled around on their stools to watch what they assumed would be a spectacle. She didn’t hear the whispered comments or see the money that quickly changed hands. She was concentrating on the two men in the booth and what she was going to tell them.

“What’s wrong, Hannah?” Norman asked as she arrived at their booth and stood there in front of it, her hands on her hips.

“Everything,” Hannah said, deciding not to mince words. “Why did you have to ask me to marry you anyway?”

“Because I love you,” Norman was the first to respond.

“And I love you, too,” Mike said.

“Well, that’s just great, because I love you.”

“Who?” Norman asked.

“Yes, who?” Mike added.

“Both of you. But that’s not the biggest problem. I’m sick and tired of people telling me that I have to choose between you! And I really resent the fact that everyone in this whole town is urging me to make a decision right now!”

Mike held up his hand. “But, Hannah…”

“Quiet!” Hannah interrupted. “Just this morning, I got calls from Bill, Lisa, Barbara Donnelly, Doc Bennett, and Mother. I even got an ultimatum from Mayor Bascomb! They all want me to make my decision right now, but they’ve got it all wrong. I should be the one to decide when to decide!”

“Huh?” Norman asked, looking confused.

Mike wore the identical expression. “What was that, Hannah?”

“Never mind. I know what I mean and that’s good enough for me. Do you still want to marry me?”

If it had been raining, both men would have drowned as they looked up at her with their mouths open in surprise. Mike was the first to recover. “I do.”

“So do I!” Norman added.

“Good.” Hannah gave them both a tight smile. “That means I’m going to turn both of you down. You’re off the hook. You can stop moping around and waiting for the other shoe to drop. There’s no way I’m going to bow to peer pressure and choose between you.”

“Hold on,” Norman said, looking dismayed. “Does that mean you’re not going to marry either one of us?”

“That’s what I just said.”

“But…is there someone else?” Mike asked.

“No, there’s no one.”

“Then why…”

Norman started to frame a question, but Hannah interrupted. “It’s a matter of principle. Who decided that the man had to be the one to propose, anyway?”

Both men shrugged and Norman finally answered, “I don’t know, but I think it’s always been that way.”

“Well, I don’t like it and I’m changing the rules. I’m taking back my own life and following my own timetable. Nobody’s going to push me into anything I don’t want to do. I’ll decide when I want to get married. And when I do, I’ll ask the man of my choice if he wants to marry me. Is that clear?”

Mike and Norman exchanged glances. Then they both turned to her and nodded.

“Perfect. Now can we all stop acting like characters that escaped from a soap opera and get back to a seminormal life?”

“Yeah,” Mike agreed, smiling for the first time since Hannah had come in the door.

“You bet!” Norman said, but he didn’t smile. “I don’t want to open a can of worms here, but will you still go out with me, Hannah?”

“Absolutely.”

“And me?” Mike asked.

“You, too. Let’s just forget about marriage and go back to the way we were.”

“You’re on,” Mike said.

“Deal,” Norman concurred, smiling at last.

“I’m really glad we got that settled.” Hannah was smiling as she turned to Norman. “Would you please go get me a chair? If I’m not sitting next to either one of you, the customers that are staring at us from the counter can’t speculate on what that might mean.”

“Sure thing,” Norman said, and slid out of the booth.

“And would you go tell Rose I’m as hungry as a bear and I want two eggs over easy, bacon extra crispy, and toast?” Hannah asked Mike.

“Of course.”

Mike slid out of the booth, but Hannah grabbed his hand as he was about to walk away. “Just a second,” she said. “Do you think you can pretend you’re on duty for a minute?”

“I guess. Why?”

“I’d appreciate it if you’d remind those guys at the counter that gambling’s illegal in Minnesota. And then you can tell Hal that I’m not going to marry either one of you and that he should donate to charity every cent of the money he’s holding.”

When Hannah came in the back door at The Cookie Jar, Lisa gave her a thumbs-up. “You were absolutely right to turn both of them down.”

“Thanks, but how did you hear about it so soon?”

Lisa pointed to the wall next to the sink and Hannah turned to look. The cord from the wall phone was stretched out to its limit and the phone attached to the end of the cord was out of sight, shut tightly in the drawer that held the dishtowels. “Too many calls?”

“You said it!” Hannah’s petite partner gave a little laugh. “Everybody in town who doesn’t know wants to pump me for information. And everybody who does know wants to be the first to tell me about it. I couldn’t get the baking done and answer the phone at the same time, so I took it off the hook.”

“And you hid it in the drawer so you wouldn’t see it on the counter and feel guilty?”

“You know me too well.”

“Well, I’m here now. I’ll take care of the calls.” Hannah opened the drawer, retrieved the phone, and hung it back on the hook. There was a moment of breathless anticipation and then it began to ring.

“Your turn,” Lisa declared, slipping into her coat and heading for the door. “I’m running over to the school with the cookies for the faculty meeting.”

“Put on your gloves. It’s cold out there,” Hannah called after her. Then she reached for the phone, hoping the person on the other end of the line was someone comfortable, someone friendly, someone from out of state. “The Cookie Jar. Hannah speaking.”

“Hi, Hannah!” A familiar voice reached Hannah’s ear. “I figured you were there when I couldn’t get you at home.”

“You were right,” Hannah said, giving a big sigh of relief. It was Michelle, her youngest sister, calling from the house she rented with friends and fellow students just off the Macalester campus.

“I heard you turned both of them down.”

Hannah sputtered slightly. Michelle was over sixty miles away. “How did you know?”

“It’s not like I live in a vacuum. Lots of people keep me up to date on what’s happening in Lake Eden.”

“Mother!” Hannah breathed.

“Mother,” Michelle confirmed. “You did the right thing, Hannah. It’s a whole lot better than saying yes to one of them and changing your mind later.”

“You’re right. Is that why you called?”

“That’s part of it. The other part is to tell you that I spent a whole week talking up Lake Eden and saying what a great town it is.”

“It is a great town.”

“I know that, but Mr. Barton didn’t.”

“Who’s Mr. Barton?”

“The producer of the Indy Prod.”

Hannah felt like she was running around in circles. “What’s an Indy Prod? And what does it have to do with Lake Eden?”

“Mr. Barton was a guest in our drama class and he’s the producer of an independent production. That’s what Indy Prod means.”

“You’re talking about a movie producer?” Hannah cut to the chase.

“Yes. He’s almost through shooting a film set in Minnesota and he said he was looking for a small town close to a lake, with a church, a school, and a park.”

“That’s practically every small town in Minnesota.”

“I know. I told him that, and then I recommended Lake Eden.”

Hannah hoped that Michelle didn’t have her heart set on seeing her hometown on the big screen. While Lake Eden was a very nice town, there were other, more picturesque settings for movies. “That certainly would be interesting, Michelle, but I doubt that…”

“That certainly will be interesting,” Michelle interrupted to correct her.

“Will be? You mean…?”

“That’s right! My drama professor called to tell me this morning. Mr. Barton sent a scout to check out Lake Eden. You met him, Hannah. He came into The Cookie Jar.”

“He did?”

“Yes. Do you remember a guy named Mitch who asked about the name for the lake and the town?”

“A couple of strangers asked me that,” Hannah said, not mentioning that almost every nonlocal who stopped at The Cookie Jar wanted to know why the town was called Lake Eden, and the lake was called Eden Lake. The answer was that the lake had been named first, almost thirty years before the town had been built, and the town fathers had wanted a name that tied in with the lake, but was different. Tired of answering the same question over and over, Lisa’s cousin, Dianne Herron, had suggested a solution. Hannah had ordered cards printed up with the answer and they set them out on the tables in the summer during the tourist season.

“Well, Mitch said you were really nice about explaining it to him, and he was crazy about your Molasses Crackles. He wrote up a glowing report and once Mr. Barton did a drive-through, he decided to talk to Mayor Bascomb and find out how much it would cost to rent Main Street for a week.”

“Rent Main Street?” Hannah was amazed. “But what will that mean for our businesses?”

“You’ll all get compensated. That’s the way these production companies work. Mitch told me that Mr. Barton usually pays last year’s gross revenues for the same period plus ten percent for the inconvenience. And they always use locals for extras. Isn’t that exciting?”

“Exciting,” Hannah repeated, not sure what effect a movie company would have on her sleepy little hometown. “Does Mayor Bascomb know about this?”

“Not yet, but he will. The producer is going to call him this morning. I just wanted to give you a heads-up before it happened, and to tell you the best news of all.”

“You’re getting married?” Hannah quipped, knowing full well her youngest sister was doing no such thing. Michelle had made it abundantly clear that she was going to finish college before she even considered walking down the aisle.

Michelle laughed. “Of course I’m not and you know it. But the producer hired me as a production assistant and I’ll be coming home for a week. I’m getting paid and I’m getting college credit for the job.”

“Good for you!” Hannah did an abrupt reversal. She’d been half-hoping that the movie company wouldn’t disrupt life in Lake Eden, but now she was all for it. Michelle would enjoy the experience and it would be wonderful to have her home again. “Would you like to stay in my guest room?”

“I’d love to, you know that, but I’d better stay with Mother, especially after all the trouble she had with Winthrop and all. She’s bound to be lonely. And speaking of Mother, the producer promised me that he’ll hire Mother and Carrie to help locate props. And when I told him how they decorated Granny’s Attic to look like the first mayor’s house, he said he’d have his set decorator look at it and maybe they’d use it as a set in the movie.”

“Too bad the movie’s not set in Regency England,” Hannah mused. Both Carrie and Delores were founding members of the Lake Eden Regency Romance Club and the producer would have to look far and wide to find anyone more familiar with the period.

“I know, but this is almost as good. The part of the movie they’re filming in Lake Eden takes place in the nineteen-fifties. That should be a snap for Mother and Carrie since both of them were around back then.”

Hannah gave a little chuckle. “Yes, but neither of them will admit it.”

After a few more minutes of chatting about the advance crew that would be arriving next week, and the full cast and crew the week after that, Hannah said good-bye and attempted to hang up. But the phone rang again the moment she settled it in its cradle. Since she didn’t feel like talking to anyone, there was only one thing to do.

“This is Hannah at The Cookie Jar,” she said in the flattest voice she could muster. “I’m sorry I can’t answer your call right now, but if you’ll leave your name and number, I’ll call you back just as soon as…” There was a click, and Hannah stopped speaking. Her caller, assuming Hannah wasn’t available, had hung up.

She was about to hang up on her end when she reconsidered. It was time to take a lesson from Lisa. Hannah stretched out the cord, opened the drawer, and hid the phone under the dishtowels again. Then she hurried through the swinging restaurant-style door to the coffee shop.

Hannah’s first task was to put on the coffee and she made short work of filling the thirty-cup urn and plugging it in. She set out cream, sugar, and artificial sweetener on each table and wrote the daily cookie specials on the blackboard behind the front counter. She had just gone back into the kitchen to fill the glass canisters they used to display the day’s cookies when Lisa came back.

“I’ll help,” she said, shedding her coat and heading for the sink to wash her hands. “Everybody at the school wanted to know why you turned both of them down.”

Hannah just shook her head. It was barely eight in the morning, but there were no slackers on the Lake Eden Gossip Hotline. “What did you say?”

“I told them I hadn’t asked you because it was none of my business.”

Hannah eyed her diminutive partner with new respect. “Being married is good for you. You’ve picked up some of Herb’s assertiveness.”

“That’s not all I picked up!”

“What do you mean?” Hannah asked and then wished she hadn’t as all sorts of dire possibilities ran through her mind.

“I picked up all of Great-Grandma Beeseman’s recipes. They were in boxes up in Marge’s attic, and she said I could have them. She couldn’t read them because they’re in German.”

“You read German?”

“No, but Herb found an Internet translation service and a woman from Germany is helping me.” Lisa reached out for a cookie on the baker’s rack and handed it to Hannah. “Try this. They’re called Kokosnuss Schokolade Kekse.”

“Coconut chocolate cookies?” Hannah asked, seriously draining the small cache of German words she’d picked up over the years.

“That’s right! Do you speak German?”

“Not unless you count Volkswagen and sauerkraut as vocabulary. I was just reacting to the cognates.” Hannah took a bite and smiled her approval. “These are good.”

“I know. Do you want to add them to our cookie list?”

“Absolutely, but let’s think of another name. The German is too hard for customers to remember and the English translation isn’t catchy enough.”

“How about Cocalattas?” Lisa suggested.

“I like it. It sounds like coconut and chocolate, and that’s what they are. Write it on the board and we’ll give them a trial run today.”

Lisa nodded and grabbed the steno pad Hannah kept handy for notes about supplies. “I’d better write down flaked coconut. We’re almost out.”

“Good idea. And while you’re at it, make a note to order Jujubees and Milk Duds.”

“Are we going to the movies?” Lisa quipped, looking up with a smile.

“No, the movies are coming to us. Just as soon as we carry in these canisters, we’ll take a coffee break and I’ll tell you all about it.”

COCALATTAS

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F., rack in the middle position

1 cup melted butter (2 sticks, ½ pound)

¾ cup white (granulated) sugar

¾ cup brown sugar, firmly packed

1 teaspoon baking soda

2 teaspoons coconut extract [***]

½ teaspoon salt

2 beaten eggs

1 cup finely chopped coconut (from approximately 2 cups coconut flakes)

2¼ cups flour (don’t sift—pack it down in your measuring cup)

1 cup chocolate chips (6 oz. package—I use Ghirardelli’s)

Melt the butter. (Nuke it for one and a half minutes on HIGH in a microwave-safe container, or melt it in a pan on the stove over low heat.) Mix in the white sugar and the brown sugar. Add the baking soda, coconut extract, and salt. Add the eggs and stir it all up.

Chop the coconut flakes in a food processor. (Most people like the coconut chopped because then it doesn’t stick between their teeth, but you don’t have to go out and buy a food processor to make these cookies. Just find the finest, smallest flakes you can in the store, spread them out on a cutting board and chop them up a little finer with a knife.) Measure the coconut AFTER it’s chopped. Pack it down when you measure it, add it to your bowl, and stir thoroughly.

Add half of the flour and the chocolate chips. Stir well to incorporate. Finish by mixing in the rest of the flour.

Let the dough “rest” for ten minutes on the counter, uncovered. Drop by teaspoons onto UN-GREASED cookie sheets, 12 cookies to a standard sized sheet. If the dough is too sticky to handle, chill it slightly and try again. Bake at 350 degrees F. for 9 to 11 minutes or until golden brown around the edges.

Let cool for three minutes, then remove cookies from the baking sheet and transfer to a wire rack to finish cooling.

Yield: Approximately 6 dozen depending on cookie size.

Lisa’s Note: Herb’s great-grandmother’s recipe calls for chipped chocolate, so I used chocolate chips. Hannah says that if chocolate chips had been available when Herb’s great-grandmother was alive, she probably would have used them.

Hannah’s Note: These are Herb’s new favorite cookies. He says they taste like a crunchy Mounds bar. The Pineapple Right Side Up Cookie Bars that I made especially for him are still his favorite bar cookie.

Chapter
Three

Hannah was just finishing her last sip of coffee when the phone rang. They’d put the receiver back in the cradle and Lisa had promised to answer it. In less than a minute, her partner was back, grinning from ear to ear.

“That was Mayor Bascomb,” Lisa announced. “He’s going to stop by in a couple of minutes. He said he’s got breaking news that’ll rock Lake Eden to its foundation. Do you think it’s about the movie?”

“It must be. We don’t live in earthquake country.”

Lisa groaned. “I wish I’d thought to say that. Of course I couldn’t have said it, since he’s theoretically Herb’s boss and he might have taken it wrong. I’d better set out some PBJs for him. You know how crazy he is about peanut butter.”

In less than five minutes there was a tap on the door and Mayor Bascomb came in. He wiped his boots on the rug inside the door and sniffed the air appreciatively. “Do I smell peanut butter?”

“Right here, Mayor Bascomb.” Lisa pointed him toward the plate of cookies that sat in the center of the work island and the mayor pulled up a stool.

“No sugar for me today,” he instructed Hannah as she headed for the table with his mug of coffee. “Steffie says I put on a couple of inches around the middle and I’m trying to cut down.”

Hannah didn’t say anything as the mayor reached for a cookie. She watched it disappear in two gulps, followed by a second and then a third. If that was cutting down, she wanted to go on Mayor Bascomb’s diet!

“So what’s this breaking news?” Hannah asked, hoping that she could look appropriately surprised when the mayor told them what they already knew.

“I just got a call from a guy named Barton. He heads up some movie company in Minneapolis. They want to shoot part of a movie right here on Main Street.”

“That’s wonderful!” Hannah said, hoping she sounded surprised enough not to raise suspicion. “But won’t it interfere with business?”

“Yes, and the movie company is prepared to pay for that. I want every business owner to check revenues for the second week in March. That’s when they’re coming. I had to do some fancy talking, but they’re going to pay us last year’s gross profits for the week plus ten percent for the inconvenience.”

“You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Mayor,” Hannah complimented him, hiding a grin as he cited the exact figure Michelle had said the Indy Prod usually paid.

“Well, I’d better go,” the mayor stood up and pushed back his stool. “I’ve got to talk to all the other business owners and give them the good news.”

Lisa rushed to put the rest of the PBJ Cookies in a take-out bag for the mayor while Hannah walked him to the back door. Then Hannah collected the mugs they’d used and put them in the dishwasher while Lisa wiped down the work counter.

“He must have forgotten something,” Hannah said, reacting to a loud knock at the door. “I’ll get it.”

Hannah pulled open the door to find her niece, Tracey, holding an empty baby carrier in one hand while her mother brought up the rear. Andrea was juggling the baby, Bethany, in one arm and speaking on her cell phone.

“I said I understand,” Andrea’s voice quavered a bit and it was clear that she was upset, “but that doesn’t mean I have to like it!”

Hannah watched as her sister clicked off the phone with one perfectly manicured nail and stepped into the warmth of the kitchen. She gave a long sigh that Hannah might very well have labeled as theatrical if she hadn’t heard the quaver in her sister’s voice, and handed the baby to Hannah.

“You take her,” she said, passing the baby over like a football. “Coffee! I need coffee!”

“I’ll get it,” Lisa responded, heading for the kitchen pot.

“She’s stressed,” Tracey explained, setting the baby carrier on the work island. Hannah’s oldest niece could have posed for a cover photo on a children’s fashion magazine with her baby blue winter coat, dainty white boots, and white cap with a pom-pom on top. The only thing that stopped her from being absolutely adorable was the frown that furrowed her forehead. “Just put Beth in her carrier, Aunt Hannah. I’ll rock her if she wakes up.”

Hannah put the baby in the carrier without incident. Her pretty new niece was sleeping so soundly, not even her mother’s frantic call for coffee had awakened her.

Tracey sat down on a stool and pushed the mug of coffee that Lisa brought in front of her mother. “Have some coffee. And eat one of those cookies. They’re chocolate and the endorphins will help. Right, Aunt Hannah?”

“Absolutely,” Hannah said. She would have been amused at the way her oldest niece had picked up on one of her favorite culinary remedies, but this situation sounded serious.

“Do it, Mom.” Tracey nudged her mother. “And then tell Aunt Hannah.”

“Tell me what?” Hannah prompted, once Andrea had taken a big sip of her coffee to chase down a bite of Lisa’s great-grandmother’s-by-marriage creation.

“Bill’s leaving us!”

“What?”

“What part of leaving us don’t you understand?” Andrea retorted. And then she promptly burst into tears. It was obvious that it wasn’t for the first time that morning, because her eyelids were swollen and the tissue she pulled from her pocket was damp and bedraggled.

Hannah turned to Tracey who, at almost six years of age, seemed to be the most rational person in the small family group. “What’s going on, Tracey?”

“It’s not as bad as it sounds.” Tracey snagged a cookie from the plate and took a quick bite. “Daddy’s going to a conference in Miami, and Mommy’s all upset because she can’t go. It’s not like they’re getting a divorce, or anything like that.”

“Well, that’s a relief!” Lisa said, giving Tracey a little hug as she passed out napkins and placed a box of tissues in front of Andrea. “What kind of conference is it?”

“It’s about fitness in law enforcement,” Andrea answered the question. She still sounded stressed, but at least she’d stopped crying. “The only problem is, she’s going too!”

“She who?” Hannah asked. She was almost certain there was a better and clearer way to ask the question, but she didn’t want to bother with that now.

“They’ll pay for her, but they won’t pay for me!”

“Her who?” Hannah asked again, changing the pronoun, but not the intent.

Andrea turned to look at her oldest daughter. “Tracey? Why don’t you go…”

“Away,” Tracey interrupted, picking up the glass of orange juice Lisa had poured for her and using a napkin to grab two more cookies. “I’ll just go have my breakfast in the coffee shop so you can tell Aunt Lisa and Aunt Hannah what I’m too young to hear. I can always ask Bethany what you said later.”

Hannah burst out laughing and so did Lisa. A moment later, even Andrea ventured a small laugh.

“That’s better,” Tracey said, looking proud. “I’ve been trying to get you to laugh ever since Daddy told you he was going.”

Once the swinging door had closed behind Tracey, both Hannah and Lisa spoke up. “Who?” they both asked, within seconds of each other.

Andrea stared at them for a moment and then she gave a giggle that sounded more than a little hysterical to Hannah. “You two sound like a flock of owls.”

“Parliament,” Hannah corrected her. “A flock of owls is called a parliament, but that’s not really important. Who’s going to the fitness conference with Bill?”

“Ronni Ward, that’s who! Remember when Bill hired her to hold exercise classes for the deputies?”

“I remember.”

“Well, her official title is fitness instructor and that means she’s qualified to go along, all expenses paid by the department.”

Hannah reached out to pat her sister’s arm. She could understand why Andrea was upset. Escaping the frozen tundra for a tropical climate, all expenses paid, was a collective Lake Eden fantasy during the winter months.

“The conference is in a hotel that’s right on the beach,” Andrea continued. “And you know what that means!”

Hannah didn’t bother to respond since all three of them already knew that the beach meant bikinis and Ronni Ward was the three-time winner of the annual bikini contest. “But surely you don’t think that Bill…” Hannah stopped speaking as she read the look on her sister’s face. “Have some more chocolate. It’ll help.”

“I know exactly how you feel,” Lisa said, pushing the plate of cookies closer to Andrea. “I’d feel the same way. But maybe Ronni will find a really handsome fitness instructor and they’ll…they’ll do exercises together, or something.”

Andrea gave Lisa a halfhearted smile and Hannah could tell she wasn’t convinced. She took another cookie, though, and ate it before she spoke again. “It’s just making me a little crazy that I can’t go, that’s all. It’s so boring in Lake Eden this time of the winter.”

Hannah exchanged glances with Lisa. “When is Bill leaving?”

“The second week in March. And you know as well as I do that nothing ever happens in Lake Eden in March.”

“Well, this year is an exception to the rule,” Hannah stated, sharing a smile with Lisa. And then she proceeded to tell Andrea why Ronni Ward was going to wish she’d stayed home in Lake Eden instead of flying off to Miami with Bill.

PEANUT BUTTER AND JAM COOKIES (PBJs)

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F., rack in the middle position

1 cup melted butter (2 sticks, ½ pound)

2 cups brown sugar (firmly packed)

½ cup white (granulated) sugar

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

1½ teaspoons baking soda

1 teaspoon baking powder

½ teaspoon salt

1 cup peanut butter

2 beaten eggs (just whip them up with a fork)

½ cup chopped salted peanuts (measure AFTER chopping)

3 cups flour (no need to sift)

approximately ½ cup fruit jam (your choice of fruit)

Microwave the butter in a microwave safe mixing bowl for approximately 90 seconds on HIGH to melt it. Mix in the brown sugar, white sugar, vanilla, baking soda, baking powder, and salt. Stir until they’re thoroughly blended.

Measure out the peanut butter. (I spray the inside of my measuring cup with Pam so it won’t stick.) Add it to the bowl and mix it in. Pour in the beaten eggs and stir it all up. Add the chopped salted peanuts and mix until they’re incorporated.

Add the flour in one-cup increments, mixing it in until all the ingredients are thoroughly blended.

Form the dough into walnut-sized balls with your hands and arrange them on a greased cookie sheet, 12 to a standard sheet. (If the dough is too sticky to form into balls, chill it for an hour or so, and then try again.)

Make an indentation in the center of the dough ball with your thumb. Spoon in a bit of jam, making sure it doesn’t run over the sides of the cookie.

Bake at 350 degrees F. for 10 to 12 minutes, or until the tops are just beginning to turn golden. Cool on the cookie sheet for 2 minutes, then remove to a wire rack to finish cooling.

Yield: approximately 7 dozen cookies, depending on cookie size.

Hannah’s Note: If you happen to run out of fruit jam and you have cookies left to fill, put a few chocolate chips in the indentation. You’ll have to call those cookies PBCs, but they’re wonderful!

Tracey likes her PBJs with strawberry jam, Andrea prefers apricot, Bill’s wild about blueberry, and Mother loves them with peach. I prefer to eat one of each, just to test them of course.

Chapter
Four

The next two weeks passed much too slowly, as winter weeks often do, but at last the big day arrived. Everyone who wasn’t engaged in business of the utmost necessity turned out to watch as the movie crew rolled into town. Lisa and Hannah were no exception. The Cookie Jar wasn’t open. It was never open on Sunday, but both partners and their extended families sat at tables in front of the window, watching the cars, motor homes, tractor trailers, and smaller cube trucks turn the corner by the lumber yard at First and Main, and drive down Main Street to Sixth, where an area had been set aside for them to park.

“That’s the wardrobe truck,” Michelle explained, as a truck pulling a long, narrow trailer came down the street. “The inside looks just like a closet with two long poles and hangers that lock so they don’t jiggle off the poles.”

Hannah smiled at her youngest sister. Michelle had arrived the previous night on the bus, and this morning she was holding court at a table with Delores, Carrie, Andrea, and Lisa. Norman, Mike, and Herb were at a separate table and they were wearing almost identical I couldn’t care less expressions designed to convince everyone else that they weren’t at all interested in spotting the actors and actresses as they drove by the plate glass window.

Hannah, herself, was perched on a stool between the two tables, watching the clock over the counter. In a few minutes, she’d head out to the community center to help Edna Ferguson with the brunch Mayor Bascomb had arranged so that the movie crew could meet the residents of Lake Eden.

“That’s Dean Lawrence’s car,” Michelle said, drawing everyone’s attention to the black limousine that rolled past the window. “He’s got his own driver.”

Delores looked envious. “That must be nice, especially in the winter.”

“You said it!” Carrie agreed. “I’d love to have a driver who’d warm up the car before he came to get me.”

“A driver would be great,” Lisa said. “You’d never have to worry about getting a good parking spot. If there wasn’t anywhere to park, he could drop you off right in front of wherever you were going.”

“That’s what I do now,” Herb groused, but his loving smile told his new wife that his complaint was far from serious. “I guess that makes me your chauffeur.”

“Maybe it does. I’ll look around for one of those cute little hats with the stiff brim.”

“Dean Lawrence’s chauffeur isn’t just a chauffeur,” Michelle spoke up. “His name is Connor and he’s listed on the credits as a production assistant, just like me, but he’s really a combination driver, bodyguard, and secretary.”

Hannah turned to smile at her youngest sister. “I’ll bet he makes more money than you do.”

“Lots more.” Michelle gave a little laugh. “Connor makes scale for extras, too. He gets a walk-on part in every movie Mr. Lawrence directs.”

“D. L. is practically a household name in Hollywood,” Andrea informed them. “Variety just did an article on him.”

“D. L.?” Hannah turned to her sister in surprise.

“Variety?” Michelle asked, picking up on another part of Andrea’s comment.

“D.L. is how Daily Variety refers to Dean Lawrence,” Andrea explained to Hannah. Then she turned to Michelle. “And yes, I read Variety every day. I subscribed right after you told us that they were shooting C.I.C. here.”

“What’s C.I.C.?” Hannah asked, wishing her sister wouldn’t use so many initials.

“Crisis in Cherrywood. That’s the name of the movie. What I want to know is how a little Indy Prod like this landed such a big-name director. After Three Minutes to Paradise, everyone thought he’d go on to another big box office success.”

“Connections,” Michelle answered Andrea’s question. “It’s all about who you know and who owes you. I asked one of the prop guys about that and he said there’s some sort of family connection between Mr. Lawrence and the man who financed the film. He didn’t know the details, but he said that’s why Mr. Lawrence signed on.”

“I wonder if there’s been any trouble yet,” Andrea mused. “In the article I read, they called D. L. the Bad Boy Director. He’s got a huge ego and last year he was named the director that most actors love to hate.”

Michelle laughed. “Mr. Barton told me that, but he said there’s an upside. Mr. Lawrence is really hard on his actors, but he makes them look good because he always gets great performances out of them.”

“As interesting as this is, I’ve got to go.” Hannah glanced at the clock and slid off her stool. “I promised Edna I’d be at the community center in less than five minutes.”

Andrea got up from the table. “Do you need any help? I have to go home to pick up Tracey.”

“Not really. The food’s already down there, and the only things I need to bring are napkins and tablecloths.”

Hannah said good-bye to everyone and hurried through the kitchen, grabbing her parka coat on the run. Once she’d successfully negotiated the ruts in her alley, she rolled down her window and took a deep gulp of air. The breeze was ice cold, but it felt fresh, full of promise and new beginnings. Almost everyone in town was looking forward to a brush with celebrity and a tiny taste of fame if they were lucky enough to be chosen as extras. The size of the part didn’t really matter. They just wanted to appear in the film. And when it was all over and Lake Eden had been captured forever on film, they would exercise bragging rights with friends and relatives who lived more humdrum lives in less fortunate places.

There was a parking spot in front of the community center and Hannah took it. She went around to the back of her truck and opened the rear doors, eyeing the stacks of tablecloths and napkins she’d picked up from her condo neighbors, the Hollenbeck sisters, who’d washed and ironed them in honor of this special occasion. It had taken her three trips to load them in her truck and it would take that many to deliver them to Edna at the community center kitchen.

Hannah stacked up her first load, the widest brown paper-wrapped bundle on the bottom and smaller paper-wrapped bundles on top. When she had a pyramid of five packages, she picked them up and started for the door.

“Hold it!” a female voice called out, and Hannah stopped in her tracks. The top bundle was blocking her view and she peered around it like a kid with a periscope to see who’d halted her forward progress.

“Hi, Pam,” Hannah greeted Jordan High’s Home Economics teacher.

“Girls?” Pam addressed the half-dozen high school seniors who’d volunteered for waitress duty and were following in her wake. “Don’t just stand there. You know what to do.”

Beth Halvorsen, one of Hannah’s favorite high school seniors, led the charge to Hannah’s cookie truck and soon the packages were being loaded into younger arms. One of the girls veered off to relieve Hannah of her burden and before she could do more than say thank you, Pam’s students had disappeared inside the building and Hannah was left as free as a bird, with nothing but her purse to carry.

“It’s times like this that I wonder if I should have been a teacher,” Hannah said, falling into step with last year’s teacher of the year.

“Maybe. My girls adore you.”

“Don’t let that fool you. It’s because I bring cookies every time I visit your class.”

“You’ve got a point,” Pam said, as they stepped inside and headed for the stairway that led down to the community center banquet room.

The two friends parted ways at the bottom of the stairs. Pam went to help her student teacher, Willa Sunquist, supervise the girls, who were draping tablecloths over the tables and setting out the centerpieces they’d made in class.

“Hannah!” Edna called out as Hannah pushed open the kitchen door. “I’m so glad you’re here early!”

“There’s a problem?” Hannah asked, guessing that something besides blusher must have caused the high color in Edna’s normally pale cheeks.

“You can say that again! What can we make to take the place of Loretta Richardson’s Sausage and Egg Casserole?”

“I’m not sure. Why do we have to think of something to replace it?”

“Because Loretta slipped on a patch of ice on the way out to the garage and all three pans spilled in the snow. We need something else and we need it in less than two hours.”

Hannah thought fast. Since Edna had been planning to put three pans of Sausage and Egg Casserole in the oven, she had extra oven space. “I could make Fruit Pocket French Toast.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s something my Grandma Ingrid used to bake for breakfast on Christmas morning.”

“Then it’s a holiday dish and it’s bound to be good. How long does it take to make it?”

Hannah added up the cooking time of forty-five minutes, preparation time of ten minutes, and standing time of twenty minutes. “If I can get all the ingredients I need in ten minutes, I can have it ready to serve in about an hour and a half.”

“Perfect.” Edna looked around for Florence Evans and beckoned her over. “Can you open up the Red Owl? Hannah’s going to pull off a miracle and she needs supplies in a big hurry.”

“No problem. Give me a list.”

Hannah scrawled a quick list and gave it to Florence. “Can you be back in here in ten minutes? Time’s going to be a factor.”

“I’ll be back in five,” Florence promised, grabbing her coat and heading out the door to the parking lot.

While Florence was gone, Hannah and Edna prepared the pans. They’d just finished heating the butter, brown sugar, and maple syrup they’d found in the community center kitchen when Florence came back carrying two sacks of groceries.

“Here, Hannah. I brought you canned peaches, pears, and apricots,” she said, setting the cans out on the counter.

“Thanks, Florence. What kind of bread did you get?”

“One loaf of raisin bread, one of egg, and another called country potato. They’re all sliced. And here’s your chopped pecans, whipping cream, eggs, and butter. What can I do to help you?”

“Open the cans of fruit and dump them in strainers,” Hannah instructed. “And then you can soften half of the butter in the microwave.”

“I’ll do that,” Edna said, grabbing the butter and starting to unwrap it.

While the two women set about their assigned tasks, Hannah poured the heated syrup, brown sugar and butter mixture in the bottoms of the pans. She sprinkled the chopped nuts over the top and was just opening the first loaf of bread when Edna came back with the softened butter.

“What do you want me to do with this?” Edna asked, holding the bowl aloft.

“Make fruit sandwiches. We’ll do one pan at a time so we won’t get mixed up. Butter six pieces of bread and put slices of drained fruit on top. Then cover the fruit with another six slices of buttered bread.”

“I’ll slice the fruit and put it on,” Florence volunteered. “It’s just like making sandwiches for the grandkids. I always lay out the bread in pairs and do it like an assembly line.”

“That’ll work just fine. When you’re through with a sandwich, cut it in half and put it in the pan on top of my syrup mixture. We can’t have any more than one layer in each pan. You can crowd them together, but don’t overlap them or the recipe won’t work.”

“Okay. What next?”

“We beat the eggs with sugar and cinnamon, and then we mix in the cream. Is there any vanilla in the pantry? I forgot to add it to the list.”

“I brought some, just in case,” Florence told her, dropping several thin slices of pear on a buttered piece of raisin bread. “It’s still in the bag.”

Hannah found a large bowl and started to crack eggs. When the eggs were beaten with the sugar and cinnamon, she handed the bowl to Edna, who mixed in the cream and added a generous slug of vanilla.

“How are you coming?” Hannah asked, glancing over at Florence.

“All done.” Florence added the last sandwich to the pan, and then she headed for the sink to wash her hands.

“You can pour the egg mixture over the sandwiches now,” Hannah told Edna. “Then we’ll cover the pans with plastic wrap and leave them out on the counter for twenty minutes while the oven preheats.”

“And then we take off the plastic wrap and bake them?” Florence asked.

“Not quite. We melt the rest of the butter first, and pour it over the sandwiches. Then we bake them.”

“That’s a lot of butter!” Edna commented.

“True, but that’s what makes them so good. They have to sit for a couple of minutes when they come out of the oven to set up. Then we’ll sprinkle them with powdered sugar and they can be served. Tell whoever does it that a half-sandwich is one serving.”

The three women had just settled down to a cup of Edna’s excellent coffee at the large round booth that had been especially designed for the kitchen workers, when the kitchen door opened and Winnie Henderson marched in.

“Here!” she said, setting a box on the round table in the center of the booth with such force that the spoon in Edna’s cup rattled. “A promise is a promise so I brought ’em. Six-dozen homemade doughnuts, half powdered sugar, and half cinnamon and sugar. But if I’d known what I know now, I never would have promised!”

“Wait!” Edna reached out to grab Winnie’s hand as the raw-boned farmwoman turned to go. “Are you mad at me, Winnie?”

Winnie shook her head so hard, the salt and pepper hair she wore in a no-nonsense cut swung across her face. “Not you, Edna. It’s him! He sold us out just like Judas, excepting this time it wasn’t for pieces of silver. He got a part in that movie and that’s why he’s sitting back and doing nothing to keep our town from getting ruined!”

“Who’s sitting back and doing nothing?” Florence asked, eyeing Winnie with some trepidation. Although Winnie didn’t weigh more than a hundred pounds and she was at least a decade past the mid-century mark, she’d worked hard all her life and she was as strong as an ox. “That is…if you don’t mind saying, of course. You don’t have to say if you don’t want to.”

“Don’t mind at all! The more people that know, the better. They ought to find out the truth about the man they vote for year after year. He’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing, that’s what he is!”

“Mayor Bascomb?” Hannah guessed, since he was Lake Eden’s most important elected official and she’d heard he had a part in the movie.

“That’s him! I’m glad you said it, girl. I don’t even want his name to pass my lips. And now I got to get going, ’cause if I set even one of my eyes on him, I’m going to kick his you-know-what to kingdom come!”

FRUIT POCKET FRENCH TOAST

½ cup butter (1 stick, ¼ pound)

1 cup brown sugar, firmly packed

½ cup maple syrup

1 cup chopped pecans (optional)

Loaf (at least 12 slices) of sliced bread (white, egg, raisin, whatever)

½ cup butter softened (1 stick, ¼ pound)

2 cups canned or fresh fruit (any kind except melon or grapes)

8 eggs, beaten

¾ cup white (granulated) sugar

2 teaspoons cinnamon

2 cups heavy cream (whipping cream)

2 teaspoons vanilla extract

½ cup butter (1 stick, ¼ pound) melted

Powdered (confectioner’s) sugar to sprinkle

Leave one stick of butter out on the counter to soften it, or unwrap it and nuke it for a few seconds in the microwave.

If you’re using canned fruit, open it and dump it in a strainer now.

Heat a second stick of butter, the brown sugar, and the maple syrup in a microwave-safe bowl on HIGH for 2½ minutes (I used a quart measuring cup) or in a pan on the stove, stirring constantly, until the butter is melted. Spray a 9-inch by 13-inch cake pan with Pam or other non-stick spray and pour the syrup mixture in the bottom. Sprinkle with the chopped pecans, if you decide to use them.

Lay out twelve slices of bread—you’re going to make fruit sandwiches.

Spread softened butter on one slice of bread. Top it with well-drained fruit cut in very thin slices (Berries or pineapple can be crushed.)

Spread butter on a second slice of bread and use it to cover the bread with the fruit. Cut this fruit sandwich in half and place it in the pan on top of the syrup mixture. Make 5 more sandwiches, cut them in half, and put them in the pan. You can crowd them a bit, but do not overlap the bread.

Press the sandwiches down with a flat metal spatula. Squish that bread!

Beat the eggs with the sugar and the cinnamon. Add the cream and the vanilla, mixing thoroughly. Pour this mixture over the bread in the pan.

Cover the pan with plastic wrap or foil and let it stand out on the counter for a minimum of twenty minutes. (If you’re having a fancy breakfast, you can also make this the night before and keep it in the refrigerator until it’s time to bake it.)

Preheat your oven to 350 degrees F., rack in the center position.

Take off the plastic wrap. Melt the third stick of butter. Drizzle it over the top of the sandwiches.

Bake the Fruit Pocket French Toast at 350 degrees F. uncovered, for approximately 45 minutes, or until the top has browned. Let the pan cool on a wire rack for at least five minutes.

To serve: Sprinkle the top of the pan with powdered sugar before you carry it to the table. This will make it much prettier. Dish out the Fruit Pocket French Toast with a metal spatula, and offer more syrup and butter for those who want it. A half sandwich is one serving.

Yield: 12 half-sandwich servings.

Hannah’s Note: If you want to make this and you’re really in a pickle because you don’t have any fruit, try spreading the bread with a layer of fruit jam or marmalade. I haven’t tried this, but I’ll bet you a batch of my best cookies that it’ll work!

Chapter
Five

Naturally, Hannah had been elected to serve the Fruit Pocket French Toast and she was glad she’d worn the pale lavender silk blouse Claire Rodgers had assured her would dress up any outfit, even a pair of black jeans and a black turtleneck sweater. The blouse had been expensive, but Claire had given Hannah her usual good-neighbor discount since Claire’s boutique, Beau Monde Fashions, was right next to Hannah’s shop.

“This is a wonderful brunch dish, Hannah,” Delores came up to compliment her. “Have you made it before? It reminds me of something, but I’m not quite sure what it is.”

“Grandma Ingrid’s Fruit Pocket French Toast, except she made it with apple slices.”

“Of course!” Delores reached out to pat Hannah’s shoulder with one perfectly manicured hand. “It was always my favorite, but so rich! And extremely fattening, with all those carbs.” Delores leaned a little closer. “Better watch it, dear. I think you’ve gained a little around the hips. That blouse hides it really well, but still…when a woman gets to be a certain age, she has to be more conscientious about her diet.”

Hannah managed to keep her polite smile in place, but she had the urge to upend the nearly empty pan with its residue of sticky caramel-maple syrup on top of her mother’s impeccably styled coiffeur.

“Well! Enough about that. You’ve heard it all before.”

Hannah looked up at her mother in surprise. Delores actually sounded a bit apologetic about her previous comment. But her next statement shattered that illusion.

“You really ought to change to shoes, Hannah. Those boots don’t go with your outfit at all. And a little lipstick and makeup wouldn’t hurt.”

“I don’t like to wear makeup.”

“I know you don’t, but men notice things like that. They want a wife who’s well groomed, someone they can be proud to be seen with.”

“You’re forgetting that two men proposed to me and I wasn’t wearing a lick of makeup at the time.”

“Oh.” Delores frowned slightly. “Well…there is that. I’m sorry, dear. Truce?”

“Truce,” Hannah agreed with a smile, squelching the nasty little voice in her head that whispered, I wouldn’t take your advice about men on a bet, Mother. Just look where it got you with Winthrop!

Hannah had just filled her own plate and slid into a chair directly across from Mike and Norman when Michelle came rushing up. She was followed by a thirty-something guy with dark hair, and Hannah assumed he was one of the movie crew. He wasn’t leading-man handsome, but he was certainly good-looking in an intriguing way. His eyes were a bit too close together, but they were a brilliant blue that more than made up for the former defect. And they were framed with long, dark lashes that most women could achieve only with long minutes in front of the mirror and the very best lash-lengthening mascara. His mouth was generous, wide enough to match his nose, and his clean-shaven chin was strong. Definitely an attractive man, Hannah decided. Not really conventionally handsome, but eye-catching all the same.

Michelle arrived at Hannah’s side and turned back to face the man who was following her. “This is my sister, Hannah. She owns the cookie shop that Mitch couldn’t stop talking about. And Hannah?” Michelle swiveled to give her oldest sister a smile. “This is Mr. Barton, the writer–producer of Crisis in Cherrywood.”

Hannah gasped as the man smiled. He looked very different from the last time she’d seen him almost four years ago, but there was no mistaking the distinctive dimple in his left cheek. “Ross Bartonovich?”

“It’s Barton, now. Makes it easier for me to spell.” He swept Hannah up in his arms and whirled her around in a circle. “You look even better than you did back then.”

“I don’t,” Hannah quickly denied it, but she started to laugh as Ross lifted her in a giant bear hug and her feet came up off the floor. And she laughed harder still as she saw the expression of total disbelief on her sister’s face.

“You…you two know each other?” Michelle asked.

“We’re a blast from the past. Twenty-two forty-seven Muskrat Lane, second floor in the rear. Right, Hannah?”

“Right. And we should have knocked a hole in the wall because we were always together. Is Linda here?”

“She’s here, but it’s not Linda anymore. Now it’s Lynne, Lynne Larchmont.”

“Larchmont? But I thought you two were getting marri…” Hannah stopped speaking and the color crept up her cheeks. She’d never been very good at small talk, and she was especially handicapped now with her foot stuck firmly in her mouth. “I’m sorry,” she said at last. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

“That’s okay. It just didn’t work out, that’s all. A lot of things changed when you left school and we weren’t the Three Muskrateers anymore.”

“So you went to college together?” Michelle asked, saving Hannah from replying.

Ross turned to her and nodded. “That’s right. I should have told you, but I wanted to surprise Hannah.”

“Well…you did!” Hannah managed.

“I interrupted your brunch,” Ross said, glancing at Hannah’s barely touched plate. “How about if I get another cup of coffee and join you while you eat? We can talk about old times.”

“I’ll get it, Mr. Barton,” Michelle offered quickly. “Just sit down and I’ll bring it right over.”

Ross held out Hannah’s chair and then he grabbed another from a nearby table and slid in next to her. Hannah glanced quickly at Mike and Norman. They’d been talking to each other, but now they were silent. Both of her suitors looked wary as they stared at Ross Barton, almost as if they’d been taking a leisurely stroll through the woods and were suddenly face-to-face with a bobcat.

Hannah tried to think of something to say, anything to get everyone talking. But Ross didn’t seem at all disconcerted by Norman’s and Mike’s wary gazes. He held out his hand in a gesture of goodwill to Mike.

“Ross Barton. I’m the writer–producer. And you’re…?”

Mike had no choice. He reached out to shake Ross’s hand. “Mike Kingston. Acting sheriff of Winnetka County.”

“Glad to meet you,” Ross stared hard at Mike, and Hannah knew he was sizing him up. “Ever done any acting?”

“Me?” Mike looked surprised. “Nope, never have.”

“I’ve got a walk-on part that would be perfect for you.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“As a matter of fact, it’s right up your alley. We need to cast a small-town sheriff. He’s a professional, but he knows everyone in town and he’s got a heart. He comes in right after the suicide scene, and he’s got a few lines. Are you interested?”

“Maybe.” Mike was noncommittal, but Hannah knew him well enough to see that he was intrigued.

“You could do some security work for us, too. After hours, of course, so it wouldn’t interfere with your regular duties. We’re a small company and the pay’s not all that great, but you’d get screen credit.”

“Well…I guess I could give it a whirl.”

Hannah glanced over at Norman and thought she detected a bit of envy in his demeanor. Was everyone in town with the exception of Winnie Henderson and yours truly being seduced by the bright klieg lights of movie fame? she wondered.

“I’d like you on the crew, too.” Ross held out his hand to Norman.

“Me?” Norman gulped slightly. “But I’m not in law enforcement.”

“I know that. Michelle told me that you’re the town dentist and we need you to be on call. You never know when somebody’s going to break a cap and need a quick fix to go on with a scene. It would mean a screen credit for you, too.”

“Count me in,” Norman said, shaking Ross’s hand and looking pleased.

Hannah looked at Ross with new respect. He’d effectively diffused a tense situation and suddenly he was Norman’s and Mike’s new best friend. But was he really? Hannah gave a little shiver as Ross’s arm brushed hers. Had their chairs been this close together when they’d sat down? Or had Ross inched over so that he could be closer to her?

Michelle came up carrying a cup of coffee. “Here you go, Mr. Barton. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“Not right…yes, there is.” Ross obviously changed his mind in midsentence. “I’ve just cast Mike here as the Sheriff of Cherrywood and Norman’s going to be our crew dentist. Why don’t you introduce them to the rest of the cast and crew? That’ll save time later, at the auditions.”

It was no sooner mentioned than it was accomplished. Mike and Norman stood up and Michelle led them away to do the introductions. The moment they had left, Ross turned to Hannah. “So? What do you think of the new assertive me?”

“It’s a big change,” Hannah said honestly. The Ross she’d known at school had been content to sit back and wait for someone else’s suggestions. This older, more mature Ross had morphed into someone who led, not followed.

“Do you like me the way I am now? Or was it better the way I was back then?”

“What a question!” Hannah said with a laugh. “I liked the old you just fine. But I don’t know the new you well enough to say.”

“Well…we’ll have to remedy that,” Ross said, slipping his arm around Hannah’s shoulder and giving her a squeeze. “It’s wonderful to see you again, Hannah. I never said anything, but did you know I had a terrible crush on you in college?”

Hannah, who’d just taken a bite of scrambled eggs, swallowed with difficulty. She would have died rather than admit it, but Ross’s crush on her had been reciprocated in spades! “I…but…” Hannah stopped and regrouped. “You were living with Linda!”

“I know, but a guy can dream. I always thought we were better suited. She never laughed at my jokes or picked up on my drama quotes.”

“Come on, Ross. That’s not really fair. I had to know my plays. I was taking a seminar on American Theater. Linda majored in art history.”

“But she had a minor in drama. And you’ve got to admit that my quotes weren’t obscure. Pop, I’m a dime a dozen and so are you.”

“Biff in Death of a Salesman by Arthur Miller,” Hannah answered, and then she drew a deep breath. Ross was right, the lines he’d quoted had been so well known that any drama student should have recognized them. But there was no way she’d say anything negative about Linda, especially since she wasn’t here to defend herself. Hannah looked around for the old friend in question, but she didn’t spot her. “You said Lind…” Hannah stopped to correct herself. “You said Lynne was here, but I don’t see her. Where is she?”

“She’s sitting right over there with Burke Anson. You recognize him from those Surf ’n Turf commercials, don’t you?”

Hannah nodded. According to the financial column in the Lake Eden Journal, Surf ’n Turf, the national chain of steak and seafood restaurants, had tripled their business after hiring Burke as their spokesman. “But…Lynne is the blonde?”

“Right. You probably don’t recognize her, because she had some work done.”

“Work? Like in plastic surgery?”

“That’s right. A new nose, some nips and tucks, a couple of enhancements, liposuction, cosmetic dentistry, a good hair stylist, and the best personal trainer in L.A.”

Hannah didn’t say anything. She couldn’t. She was too surprised. Lynne didn’t look at all like the slightly plump, brown-haired girl with the gap between her front teeth. Now, she was thin and glamorous, with a nose that looked much straighter and teeth that were white and even.

“I never would have recognized her,” she said, shaking her head. “Is Larchmont her stage name?”

“Yes, but it’s also her married name. After we split up, Linda changed her name to Lynne and went out to California to try to make it in the biz. She was there for over six months and almost ready to give it up and catch the next Greyhound home when she got lucky and landed a small part in a TV drama. That led to another, slightly bigger part in a made-for-cable movie, and that’s when she met Tom Larchmont. She always says that being Tom’s wife is the best part she ever landed. He’s rich, a lot older than she is, and he’s totally crazy about her.”

Hannah could hear the sincerity in Ross’s voice. “You don’t sound at all bitter.”

“I’m not. Tom’s a nice guy and I’m glad Lynne found someone. It worked out great for me, too. Tom’s financing this whole project because Lynne read my script and she told him she wanted to play the lead.”

“What’s the movie about?” Hannah asked him.

“Lynne’s character, Amy, is haunted by memories of her father. He’s dead, a suicide, but she just can’t come to terms with it and it begins to break up her marriage. Then her aunt dies, the aunt that raised her, and her shrink tells her to go back home for the funeral and try to lay the ghost of her father to rest. Amy goes back to Cherrywood, stays in her old family home with her older brother, Jody, and starts to have flashes of memory that don’t mesh with the explanation he gave her the night of their father’s death. Are you with me so far?”

“I’m with you.” Hannah said, clearly fascinated by the story that was unfolding. “So the story the brother told Amy was a lie?”

“That’s right. Amy realizes that she’s been brainwashed by Jody and her fraternal aunt, the woman who came to live with them after their father died. The aunt knew Jody killed his father, but she perpetuated the lie because she didn’t want her nephew to go to jail.”

“A circle of lies,” Hannah commented.

“Right. During the cocktail party that Jody hosts for her on the last evening of her visit, Amy relives the night of her father’s death, which took place right before a big cocktail party. It all comes back to her with startling clarity, and she finally realizes that Jody killed their father, why he did it, and how.”

“Sounds fascinating. Does she confront Jody when the memories come back?”

“Yes, and it’s the pivotal scene in the movie. When Amy tells Jody she remembers, he kills himself with the same gun he used to kill their father.”

“You mean right there at the party in front of the guests?”

“That’s right.”

Hannah frowned slightly. “That’s awfully dark.”

“That’s true. There are a couple of cheerful scenes of Amy as a child and as a teenager that lighten it up a little, but it’s still the story of a fatally flawed family. The only thing that saves it from complete tragedy is that Lynne’s character goes back to her husband and family at the end.”

Hannah glanced over at Lynne again, wondering if her college friend could handle such a demanding part.

“Oh, she can do it,” Ross said, answering Hannah’s unspoken question. “She was always a pretty good actress and she’s gotten even better over the years. When she married Tom, he sent her to a top-notch acting coach and she worked one-on-one with him for almost two years.”

“Good for her. How about Burke Anson? Does he play her husband?”

Ross shook his head. “He’s her brother, Jody. This is his first movie role. Burke’s a better actor than you’d think from watching his commercials.”

“Really?” Hannah gave a little laugh. “You mean he can do more than hang ten?”

“A lot more. You probably think of him as an empty-headed surfer, but he’s capable of showing a surprising depth of emotion.”

Hannah nodded, but her face revealed her doubts. Burke was in his late twenties, a deeply tanned actor with sun-bleached hair who looked strangely naked without his surfboard. There was no way Hannah could imagine him playing a tortured young man with a traumatic past.

“I saw your shop when we drove past. It looks like you, Hannah.”

“It is me. I bought it, I decorated it, and I ran it alone until I found a perfect partner. Are you going to use it in your movie?”

“Just the outside, but I’d like you to keep on baking cookies, if that’s all right with you. We’ll pay you extra if you’ll cater coffee and cookies for the cast and crew. Our meals are taken care of. We’re staying out at the Lake Eden Inn and Mrs. Laughlin’s providing a breakfast buffet and dinner. She’ll pack box lunches for everyone and most of the crew will be eating lunch right here. I just thought it would be nice if the senior staff and cast could eat our lunches at The Cookie Jar, since it’s midway between most of the locations we’re using.”

“That’s fine with me,” Hannah said quickly. It would be nice to be in the thick of things and Lisa would be thrilled to hear the latest movie news.

Hannah glanced over at Lynne again. She didn’t seem all that interested in her handsome costar, but she was certainly mesmerized by the rugged-looking man sitting across from her at the table. “Is that Dean Lawrence?” she asked, remembering the picture Andrea had shown her in the back issue of Variety.

“In the flesh. I still can’t believe how lucky I am that he agreed to sign on as director. Dean has all sorts of contacts for distribution and we’re sure to pick up a deal at Sun-dance. He’s already talking about Cannes and even a possible Oscar nomination!”

Hannah was dubious. “That’s impressive, but are you sure it’s not pie in the sky?”

“Pretty sure. Dean’s a big name in the business and any project he works on gets tons of prerelease publicity. Of course everyone tries to get a little buzz going, even Dean.”

“And you?” Hannah teased.

“Me, too.”

Hannah remembered what Andrea had said about Dean’s signing on because of family connections. Perhaps it was true, but she’d ask the source. “How did you get such an important director?”

“Tom Larchmont arranged it. Dean’s wife, Sharyn, is Tom’s niece, and I worked out a deal with them.”

“Can you tell me about it?”

Ross leaned closer, even though there wasn’t anyone close enough to hear. “All I have to do is keep Dean productive, sober, faithful, and happy.”

“That doesn’t sound too hard,” Hannah commented.

“It is, though. The productive part is easy. Dean never misses a day of work. Directing is his life. He loves to play God and intimidate people. But that’s only one out of four.”

“There’s still keeping him sober, faithful, and happy.” Hannah stated the obvious.

“Precisely. Dean loves to drink. And when he has one too many, he also loves to…well…let’s just say that he’s been known to exercise poor judgment when it comes to women.”

“But what can you do about that?”

“I’m keeping an eye on him. I’ve been his best buddy for the past six weeks, keeping him on the straight and narrow, but it hasn’t been easy. At least that part of the job’s almost over. Sharyn and Tom are flying in on Tuesday night and they’re staying for the wrap party on Saturday. Sharyn will keep Dean honest.”

“And she’ll also take care of the fourth thing? Keeping him happy?”

“Not necessarily, but you might be able to help on that one. Do you make cherry cheesecake?”

Hannah was a bit disconcerted by this new tangent. She figured Ross didn’t want to talk about the relationship between Dean Lawrence and his wife. But rather than quiz him on something that was none of her business, something that she could probably find out anyway from another member of the cast or crew, she responded quickly to his query. “If you want it, I can bake it.”

“Good. If you can make it the way Dean likes it, it’ll do a lot to take care of item number four. He loves cherry cheesecake, and having one delivered every morning makes him happy and puts him in a good mood for hours. Do you think you could do that?”

“Sure.”

“You’re a doll, Hannah.” Ross gave her another little hug. “We paid forty dollars a cake plus ten dollars delivery at the last location. And Dean said that cheesecake was all right, but not special. How about fifty if you deliver it to the Winnebago he’s using as his office every morning? It’ll come straight off the top of the production budget.”

“Deal,” Hannah said quickly, not mentioning that she’d been about to quote him a price that was less than half of what he’d offered. Ross was paying way too much for a simple cheesecake, but that was what he’d paid before and she didn’t want to sell her baked goods short. Now all she had to do was find out what qualities Dean Lawrence liked in a cheesecake and make sure the cherry cheesecake she baked had every one of them.

Chapter
Six

Lake Edenites, or whatever the proper collective noun was for citizens of Lake Eden, Minnesota, believed that dessert was the best part of a brunch. Hannah and Edna had just finished bringing every dessert they’d made out to the serving table, turning it into a true groaning board, when Andrea rushed up to Hannah.

“I’ve got great news! Do you have a minute?”

“Sure. Just let me get a cup of coffee.”

“I need one, too.”

“Okay, I’ll get coffee for both of us. You go stake out a place at one of the tables.”

When Hannah, a cup of coffee in each hand, looked around for her sister, she found Andrea sitting at one of the overflow tables, a small two-person round pedestal affair that was barely large enough for two plates and two cups of coffee. As she headed over, Hannah assumed that her sister’s news wasn’t for public consumption and she’d deliberately found a place to talk where they wouldn’t be overheard.

“Where’s Tracey?” Hannah asked, setting her sister’s coffee down in front of her.

“With Mother and Carrie. And I left Bethany home with Grandma McCann,” Andrea named her live-in babysitter. “She was sleeping like a little angel when I left.”

Andrea waited until Hannah had settled into her chair, and then she leaned forward for a private conversation. That was overkill on her part because even though there were two long tables on either side of them, they were completely empty. Everyone who’d sat there for the first part of the brunch was off getting dessert and there was absolutely no one within earshot. “Michelle just told me that you know him!”

“Ross?” Hannah guessed. It was an educated guess based on a process of elimination since Ross Barton was the only movie man she knew.

“I took Tracey over to meet him when he pulled into the lot. We just happened to be getting out of the car.”

“How long did you have to sit there freezing?” Hannah asked, not believing a word of it.

“Only a little over a half hour, and we ran the heater every ten minutes or so. Anyway, we walked in with Mr. Barton, and he invited us to the auditions this afternoon. Isn’t that fantastic?”

“Yes, it is,” Hannah said, impressed with her sister’s ambition. Only a truly dedicated stage mother would sit in a parked car in the winter so that she could waylay a producer in the parking lot. “Is Tracey going to try out as an extra?”

“Only if she doesn’t get the part of Amy as a child. I think she looks just like her, don’t you?”

“Who?”

“The female lead. She’s the gorgeous blonde in the aquamarine dress. Another actress is playing her as a teenager, but they need someone for the child’s role.”

Hannah glanced across the room, where Lynne was holding court with several of Lake Eden’s most personable would-be Romeos. “You’re right. I didn’t notice it before, but Tracey looks a lot like Lynne.”

“Lynne?” Andrea looked surprised at her sister’s use of the star’s first name. “Don’t tell me you know her, too!”

“Of course I do. I went to college with Ross and Lynne. We lived in the same apartment building, right next to each other.”

“Oh, Hannah!” Andrea reached out to clasp her sister’s hand. “I’m so glad you went to college!”

“I take it that the knowledge of English Literature I brought back to Lake Eden with me is not the primary reason.”

The color rose in Andrea’s cheeks and she looked slightly embarrassed. “That’s not fair, Hannah. Of course I’m proud of you because you know a lot about books and things like that. But what I really meant was…”

“That’s enough,” Hannah interrupted her, and smiled a bit to take the sting out of her words. “I know exactly what you meant. You want me to use what influence I have with Ross and with Lynne to get the part for Tracey.”

“That’s true. I know it might sound a little cold-blooded, but everyone uses the contacts they make, and their contacts use them right back. That’s one of the first things I learned in real estate college.”

“Right. I’ll do what I can, Andrea. I think Tracey would be perfect for the part. How about the teenager who’s playing Amy? Does she look like Tracey, too?”

Andrea glanced over at the table where most of the cast was sitting. “I think she does, but judge for yourself. Her name is Erica James and she’s sitting right next to Dean Lawrence.”

Hannah looked over and gave a little gasp.

“What’s wrong?”

“She’s giving Dean Lawrence a very steamy look and he’s giving it right back to her. And on top of that, she’s practically sitting in his lap! How old is this Lolita-in-training anyway?”

“Lolita?”

“It’s a novel by Nabokov.”

“Oh, that Lolita. I think we had to read it in high school.”

Hannah’s eyebrows shot up. She doubted that very much, but she didn’t bother to correct her sister.

“Anyway, you asked about how old she is,” Andrea picked up the thread of their conversation. “I asked Michelle and she said fifteen. See that woman sitting next to her?”

“I see her,” Hannah said, eyeing the attractive woman sitting next to the wayward nymphet.

“Well, that’s her mother,” Andrea went on with her explanation. “Her name is Jeanette, and Michelle says she’s here to supervise Erica and make sure she doesn’t get into any trouble.”

“Big job,” Hannah commented and as she watched, Jeanette James grabbed her daughter’s arm and pulled her closer to whisper something in her ear. The burgeoning sex kitten pursed her lips in a pout, but she pushed back her chair and dutifully changed places with her mother. “Jeanette James looks tired. Maybe it’s a good thing her watchdog role is almost over.”

“What do you mean?”

“Sharyn is flying in on Tuesday night.”

“Who’s Sharyn?”

“Dean Lawrence’s wife.”

Andrea looked completely astonished. “Don’t tell me you know her, too!”

“No, I’ve never met her. All I know is, Ross said they were flying in on Tuesday night for the last few days of shooting and they’ll stay for the wrap party on Saturday.”

Andrea looked envious. “That’s so exciting. I guess you’ll be going, especially since you know Ross and Lynne. I saw him with his arm around you and he’ll probably ask you to be his date. I don’t suppose I’ll get invited.”

“I’ll make sure you get an invitation,” Hannah promised, 99 percent certain that Ross would grant her that small favor. “Besides, if Tracey gets the part, you’ll both be invited.”

“You’re right. I didn’t think of that. Uh-oh!”

“Uh-oh what?”

“I’m being summoned.”

“Who’s summoning you?”

“Mother and Carrie. They probably want me to take Tracey. I’d better go.”

“I’ll go with you. I haven’t said hello to Tracey yet.”

The two sisters got up and walked toward the table where their mother and Carrie were sitting across from each other. Tracey was nowhere in sight.

“Where’s Tracey?” Andrea asked, pulling out a chair and sitting down next to her mother.

“With Mr. Barton. He asked if he could take her over to his table and introduce her to the actress playing the lead.”

“Oh boy!” Andrea breathed, and then she turned toward Hannah, who’d just taken the chair next to Carrie. “That’s got to be good, doesn’t it?”

“It couldn’t be bad. I don’t think he’d introduce her to a member of the cast unless he was interested.”

“Interested in what?” Delores asked.

“Using Tracey in the movie.” Andrea beamed from ear to ear. “We ran into Mr. Barton on the way in, and he invited us to the auditions this afternoon.”

“Do you have a copy of the script?” Carrie asked, leaning closer to Andrea, even though no one else at the table was paying the least bit of attention to them.

“No. Do you have one?”

“Of course we do,” Delores opened her tote bag so that they could see the script inside. “Mr. Barton sent it to us right after we agreed to collect all the props his man couldn’t find and check everything for authenticity. Take the whole tote, dear. There’s a copy machine in the library. You can get the key from Marge and run upstairs to make a copy.”

Andrea took the tote with a smile. “What a great idea! Then Tracey can rehearse before we go to the audition. Thanks, Mother. You and Carrie are the best!”

Once Andrea had rushed off to find Marge and get the key to the library, Hannah stood up to go. “I guess I’d better see if Edna…”

“Aunt Hannah!” a small voice interrupted her and Hannah turned to see Tracey and Ross heading their way. “Hi, Honey.”

“Hi!” Both Tracey and Ross spoke at once and then they turned to each other and laughed.

Hannah laughed right along with them. “Not you, Ross. I was talking to my niece.”

“And here I thought you were really warming up to me.” Ross gave her a slightly crooked grin.

Tracey glanced from her aunt to Ross, and then back again. “You’re probably going to tell me it’s none of my business, but are you two flirting?”

“No,” Hannah said, overlapping Ross’s reply of “Yes.”

“I see,” Tracey said, giggling. “Just let me know when I should stop calling you Mr. Barton and switch to Uncle Ross, okay? I’m going up to the buffet table to get some dessert.”

Ross waited until Tracey had left and then he mopped his brow with his handkerchief. “Whew! She’s a real pistol. I bet you were just like her at that age.”

“Not at all. I was a shy, retiring child.”

Hannah’s smile belied her words and Ross laughed. “Right. I just can’t get over how bright Tracey is. When I introduced her to the head of the makeup department, she asked about the differences between stage makeup, movie makeup, and street makeup.”

“That’s Tracey,” Hannah replied, proud that her niece could phrase intelligent questions. “Did Lynne like her?”

“Lynne was crazy about her. They talked for a couple of minutes and then Lynne said if she ever had a daughter, she’d want her to be just like Tracey.”

“What did they talk about?”

“Lynne’s career. Tracey said she’d seen her in one of her TV dramas and she wanted to know if Lynne was really crying in one scene. Lynne said no, she was acting, and Tracey could hardly believe it. She said it looked so real to her that she started to sniffle.”

Smart move, Hannah thought, but she didn’t say it. Actors always loved to hear their work praised.

“Then she asked Lynne to please not mention it to her mother, because the program was on after her bedtime and she sneaked downstairs to watch it.”

“And Lynne promised?”

“Of course.”

Hannah just shook her head, remembering a psychology class she’d taken in college. The professor had said, “Get someone to do a favor for you, and their opinion of you will rise.” At first that hadn’t made sense to Hannah, but then she’d thought long and hard about it. She believed that she was a good judge of character and if she took the time and the trouble to grant a favor to someone, then that someone must be worthy. Asking for a promise from Lynne was a favor, and Lynne had granted it. That meant her opinion of Tracey had risen. Tracey might not know the psychology behind manipulating people, but she’d accomplished it with amazing acumen. Of course she’d learned from a master, her mother. And also from the grand master of manipulation, her grandmother Delores.

“So Tracey charmed everyone?” Hannah asked, certain that Ross’s answer would be in the affirmative.

“Even Erica and her mother, and they were sitting there glaring at each other before Tracey came on the scene. She had both of them eating out of her hand and smiling at each other within two minutes. If she does a good job of reading for the part, I’m going to cast her.”

“You won’t be disappointed,” Hannah promised. “Tracey’s a talented girl with a sunny personality, and she gets along with everybody.”

“I can see that.”

Hannah smiled as they walked over to the table where Delores and Carrie were sitting. As coincidence would have it, she’d watched a documentary about stage mothers on television last night and they’d mentioned several who’d been positively spiteful when the demands they made for their child stars weren’t met. And as Ross greeted Delores and Carrie, Hannah couldn’t help thinking, I just hope Andrea isn’t like that!

“Just between the four of us, I think she’s perfect for the part,” Ross said, glancing over at Tracey, who sat two tables away with her friend, Karen Dunwright. “I wish I’d brought a copy of the script with me. Her mother could read it to her.”

“You mean, she could read it to her mother,” Hannah corrected him. “Tracey reads on a fifth-grade level.”

“I thought Tracey was in kindergarten!”

“She is. She taught herself to read about a year and a half ago, and she’s been checking out library books ever since.”

“Maybe I should run back to the trailer and get her a copy of the script.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Delores said, and a bit of guilty color rose in her cheeks. “Carrie and I gave Andrea our script. She’s upstairs in the library, copying it.”

Ross didn’t look upset at this news, and Hannah figured he didn’t mind at all that Tracey’s family had banded together to give her an edge at the auditions. “How are you ladies coming along with the props?”

“Just fine,” Delores answered for both of them. “We’ve spent the past several weeks going through farmhouse attics and storage sheds. I think we have everything on that list your prop man gave us. We have to talk, though. We found a couple of discrepancies for something that’s set in the fifties.”

“Like what?”

“Your prop man wanted us to find a period cable box for the television set. Small towns in Minnesota didn’t have cable in the fifties.”

“Good for you for catching that!”

“That’s not all, but we can go into it later,” Carrie spoke up. “Delores and I were around back then, and we remember what it looked like.”

Delores flashed Carrie a dirty look. “What Carrie means is, people in Lake Eden don’t redecorate until things wear out. That means the fifties look stayed around for at least twenty years.”

Good save, Mother! Hannah thought silently, hiding a most unladylike snort of laughter by coughing into her napkin. Delores was an expert at thinking on her feet, and she’d crawl through a field filled with cow pies before she’d divulge her true age.

Ross exchanged a glance with Hannah and she thought she saw an amused twinkle in his eyes. Then he turned back to Delores. “Michelle told me how you decorated your store to look like the first mayor’s house for the Winter Carnival.”

“That’s right. We didn’t have pictures, of course, but there were letters from the first mayor’s wife to her sister back east and she didn’t stint on words describing the new house that her husband built for her. With a little more research, Carrie and I were able to replicate that house. It was a showplace for its day, built shortly before the turn of the century.” She gave a little laugh. “The last century, that is. Eighteen ninety-three, to be exact.”

“Very impressive. I know it’s a lot to ask, but Michelle thought you might be able to do it again, but this time make it a house in the nineteen fifties.”

“We could do it, Delores!” Carrie spoke up excitedly.

“Well…I’m sure that we could, but…” Delores stopped to give a little sigh, but Hannah, who was watching her mother closely, saw the gleam of avarice in her eyes. “It would be a lot of work. And we’d have to store the antiques from other periods.”

“I have a whole crew at my disposal and my carpenters can build you a temporary storage facility. Actually, we could do it according to code and make it permanent. That way, you’d be able to keep it for future use.”

“That would be nice. We could always use more storage.”

“Of course my crew would be at your beck and call for painting, wallpapering, moving furniture, whatever you’d need. It would be a matter of just dressing the downstairs. Michelle showed me pictures of the inside and we won’t need any structural changes. We might have to take out a window or two to get a particular shot, but naturally we’d replace those.”

“How long would we have to decorate it?”

“That’s part of the problem. I’d need it by Wednesday afternoon.”

Ross turned to look at Carrie, who was wise enough to realize who was running the show. “That’s up to Delores,” she said.

“Delores?” Ross gave her a smile. “Did I mention that you’d be paid very well for your trouble? And that after we’re through shooting, my crew will put everything back exactly the way it was?”

“No, you didn’t mention that.”

Cut to the chase, Hannah thought, but both Ross and her mother remained silent. Perhaps it was time for her to take the initiative and get this thing settled before the whipped cream on top of Edna’s Jell-O parfait turned into a milky lake.

“How about screen credit?” Hannah threw out her suggestion.

“Good idea! Screen credit for both you and Carrie. And there may be a part in the movie for you. Just a small walk-on with one line apiece, but that might be fun for you. Do we have a deal?”

Delores glanced at Carrie, who was nodding like one of the old-fashioned dipping birds that Doc Bennett used to set up on his windowsill to keep his young patients occupied while he drilled.

“We have a deal,” Delores said.

“Thank you all for inviting us here this afternoon,” Ross stood in front of the crowd at the podium Mayor Bascomb usually used to open town meetings or call everyone to the table at potluck dinners. “You’ve shown real hospitality by inviting the cast and crew to brunch. I’ve got to tell you that if this movie is half as good as the food we had here today, it’ll be a huge box office success.”

There was laughter and Ross waited until it had died down. Hannah was impressed. When she’d first known him, he’d been shy around people, but he’d certainly gained a lot of self-confidence in the years they’d been out of touch.

“Michelle Swensen is my local production assistant, and she tells me that in a town the size of Lake Eden, all you have to do is mention something to one person and before the day’s out, everybody in town knows about it. Does everyone know that we need extras for the crowd scenes and we’re hoping you’ll help us out?”

There was more applause and a couple of whistles from some of the high school crowd. “And do you know that we’re holding auditions at the school this afternoon for some walk-on parts in the movie?”

“We know!” someone shouted out, and Ross laughed.

“I figured you’d know all about it, because Michelle said if I told one person that would do it. And I told Michelle.”

This time the whole room exploded into laughter, and Michelle stood up and took a bow.

“Auditions are at Jordan High auditorium from two to four. There’ll be sign-up sheets for extras, and a half-dozen or so walk-on parts we need to fill.” He turned to Michelle to confirm it, and she shook her head. “Okay, I’m wrong. How many parts, Michelle?”

“Twelve, counting the plumber.”

“I stand corrected. It’s twelve parts. I hope you’ll all drop by to sign up to be an extra in the crowd scenes and to try out for the bigger parts. We need…” Ross stopped speaking and held out his hand to Michelle. “Do you have that list?”

Michelle walked up to the podium to hand it to him, and Ross began to read. “We need a plumber, two waitresses for a cocktail party, a grade school teacher, a florist, a caterer, a bus driver, a party planner, a pianist, a filling station attendant, a mailman, and…” Ross paused to let the tension build, “…a really lousy driver who’s just been in an accident. But don’t go out and wreck your cars or anything like that. We never get to see this person drive on screen. All he has to do is go to makeup so our talented team can outfit him with fake bruises, a couple of bandages, and a pair of crutches.”

Ross referred to the sheet again. “There are also a couple of larger parts we need to fill. We need two policemen, two local women who come for the cocktail party, someone to play the female lead as a child, and a mayor. That’s it, except…we also need a cat.”

“A real cat?” someone asked.

“A real cat. Does anyone know someone who has a big orange and white tomcat, about twenty-five pounds or so, blind in one eye, and with a torn ear?”

Hannah’s mouth dropped open in surprise as everyone in the room swiveled to look at her. “I…you just described my cat!”

“I know,” Ross said, and everyone laughed. “Your sister told me and we thought we’d like to use him in the movie. You don’t have to bring him in to the high school to audition. I know cats aren’t fond of traveling. Have dinner with me tonight out at the inn and you can tell me all about him. And then, if everything’s a go, we’ll go back to your place so I can take a look at him. Is that all right with you?”

“That’s fine,” Hannah said, smiling at him. And then she happened to spot Mike’s scowling face. She turned slightly to glance at Norman and saw that he was scowling every bit as hard as Mike.

“Uh-oh,” Hannah breathed, gulping slightly. Unless she was terribly mistaken, Ross had just asked her for a date in front of the whole town, and she’d accepted.

Chapter
Seven

The auditorium at Jordan High was crowded, but Hannah found a spot in the back row. The acoustics weren’t good here, because of the balcony overhang, so most people knew to avoid it. Hannah figured the back row would be perfect for her, since she was only here to watch Tracey. When it was her niece’s turn to audition, she could stand up and move out to the aisle where she could hear better.

“Hannah Fandana!”

Hannah whirled around as a well-known voice from the past greeted her. “Hi, Linda…except Ross told me not to call you that anymore. He said you’re Lynne Larchmont now.”

“I’m still Linda to you. It’s really great to see you, Hannah! You haven’t changed a bit.”

“You have. You were always pretty, but now you’re glamorous.”

“I’d better be!” The new, glamorous Lynne gave a little laugh. “I spent a lot of money to get this way. My dental bill was astronomical, not to mention what I paid to my plastic surgeon, and my makeup and hair stylists. You can purchase glamour, you know.”

“But you lost weight, too. You can’t buy weight loss with money.”

“That’s true. Weight loss is a perk you get when you’re poor. I was so broke when I got out to L.A., I couldn’t afford to buy food.”

“What did you do?”

“I asked my dates to take me to all-you-can-eat buffets, and I lined my biggest purse with a plastic bag. When the guy wasn’t looking, I shoveled in the food and then I went back for more. I don’t think I spent more than a dollar on food until I landed my first part. And by then, I’d lost twenty pounds.”

Hannah laughed, but she felt a little stab of envy as Lynne slipped into the seat next to her. They’d been able to borrow each other’s clothes when they were in college, but now Lynne was Andrea’s size. Instead of dwelling on the twenty or so pounds she should lose and probably wouldn’t anytime soon, Hannah decided to switch subjects. “I’m sorry you broke up with Ross. I always thought you two were a perfect couple.”

“So did I, for a while. But people grow up and they change. Ross and I wanted different things out of life and we grew apart.”

Hannah was silent. It didn’t seem like they’d wanted different things way back then. Lynne had wanted to be an actress and Ross had wanted to write and produce. And since that was what they were doing now, where did the bit about wanting different things come in?

“I’m really sorry about Bradford,” Lynne reached out to put a hand on Hannah’s arm as she mentioned the name of Hannah’s college boyfriend, the assistant professor who’d started to date her without mentioning that he was already engaged. “I know your father died and that’s the official story you gave for leaving college, but Ross and I figured that Bradford had something to do with it. He’s divorced now, in case you’re interested.”

“Not even on a very lonely night,” Hannah said, leaving it at that. “What did you think of my niece Tracey?”

“She’s absolutely adorable! Talking to her is like talking to a little adult, and that’s exactly the quality we need in the actress who plays Amy as a child. I told Ross I thought she was perfect for the part.”

Hannah felt a big smile spread across her face. She loved to hear people sing Tracey’s praises.

“They should be holding tryouts for the speaking parts any minute now. Ross’s down to the last couple of walk-ons, and then he’ll probably do Amy.”

“How many kids are trying out?”

“Three. Ross introduced them to me and, you can trust me, Tracey doesn’t have any competition. For one thing, she has just the right demeanor. The other two are pretty and charming, but they don’t sell serious little girl. You know what I mean?”

“I’m not sure I do.”

“Okay. Let me explain it another way. You should get the feeling that there’s a brain working away behind those pretty blue eyes. The face might be laughing, but the brain behind it is always thinking, always planning, always very careful.”

“You just described Tracey to a tee, except for the last part. That sounds a little paranoid.”

“It is. Don’t forget that Amy lives with a manic-depressive father. And when he’s manic, he has anger issues. Amy and her brother are the only ones who see that anger. Amy’s just a child, but she’s very careful to assess her father’s mood and act accordingly. He’s never lashed out at her, but that’s because she’s careful not to antagonize him when he’s in anger mode.”

“Why doesn’t she tell someone about it?”

“She’s afraid that no one will believe her.”

“That sounds like a very bad situation.”

“It is. Anyway, those are the family dynamics and they’re just fascinating. I spent some time talking to Tracey, and I’m sure she can handle the part. I’ll stay and watch her audition with you. And then I’ll put in another good word with Ross.” Lynne stopped speaking and sighed dramatically. “Oh, look! There’s that gorgeous detective!”

“Mike Kingston,” Hannah told her, watching as Mike walked across the stage. He was in full uniform and he turned from side to side in response to an instruction they couldn’t hear from their position in the back row.

“You know him?” Lynne asked, and then she gave a little laugh. “Of course you know him. You’re bound to know him. Lake Eden is a pretty small town and you probably know everybody. I tell you, Hannah…if I didn’t love my husband, I’d be all over him.”

Hannah was about to make a wisecrack, something about how Lynne would have to get him on the rebound because he’d proposed to her and she’d just turned him down. But Hannah didn’t say that. For one thing, it would sound like bragging. And for another thing, they weren’t best college buddies anymore, and her love life, or lack of it, wasn’t any of Lynne’s business.

When Mike left the stage, Lynne turned to Hannah. “They’ll take a break now, and then they’ll audition for the speaking parts. That’s the way they always do it.”

“Maybe now would be a good time to meet Mr. Lawrence,” Hannah suggested. “Ross asked me to bake for him and I need to know what kind of cheesecake he likes.”

“Cherry.”

“I know that, but there are different kinds of cherry cheesecakes. Does he like the light and fluffy type with cherry swirled all the way through? Or would he prefer it dense and heavy with the cherries only on the top?”

Lynne shrugged. “I really don’t know. Let’s go ask him.”

A moment later, Hannah was being introduced to the most theatrical looking man in the room. Dean Lawrence wasn’t that tall, but what he lacked in stature, he more than made up for in rugged good looks. He reminded Hannah of a Bantam rooster, posturing next to the stage. The fact that his hair was tousled and stuck up slightly on the top of his head added to the rooster illusion, and the ascot he wore around his neck had a pattern that looked a bit like neck feathers.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Lawrence,” Hannah said politely, after Lynne had introduced them.

“It’s Dean, Lovey. Only my enemies call me Mr. Lawrence.”

Lovey? Hannah did her best not to bristle. She really didn’t care to be tagged with pet names by someone she’d just met. “I’m baking your cheesecakes, Mr…. er…Dean. And I’d like to know your preferences.”

“Preferences?”

“Yes. Do you prefer your cheesecake light or dense?”

“Light or dense?”

“A light cheesecake is fluffy. A dense cheesecake is heavy.”

“Oh. I see what you mean. I like a dense cheesecake, very heavy. And it should be very smooth, too. When you take a bite, it should almost melt in the mouth.”

“Okay. Do you like it with a sweet crust, or a crust that tastes like toast crumbs?”

“Sweet. I have a sweet tooth, Lovey.”

There it was again, the unwarranted and unwanted term of endearment. Hannah did her best to ignore it and asked the next question. “How about the cherries? Would you prefer your cheesecake to have cherries all the way through, a swirl of cherries mixed in for color and flavor, or just cherries on the top?”

“Cherries on the top, with cherry sauce running over the sides. And I like the kind of cheesecake with sour cream spread over the top under the cherries. I think it’s called New York cheesecake. Do you think you can bake it?”

“I’m sure I can.”

“That’s the attitude, Lovey! Never say you can’t do it until you try, isn’t that right?”

“Right,” Hannah agreed. “I’ll deliver it to your trailer by nine tomorrow morning.”

“That’s just fine, Lovey. I’ll be waiting for you with a fork in my hand.” Dean switched his attention from Hannah rather abruptly and waved at Ross, who was just taking his seat in the front row. “Ready to roll, Duckie?”

“Ready,” Ross said, with no apparent reaction. Since Michelle had mentioned that they’d been in production for almost two months now, Hannah figured that Ross must be used to Dean’s nicknames.

“So…” Hannah said to Lynne, delaying the rest of her thought until they were out of earshot. “Does Dean give everyone nicknames?”

“Oh, yes. He calls all the women Lovey and all the guys Duckie. I don’t know why he does it. He’s not even English!”

“I think I know why.”

“You do?”

“It’s just a guess, but I’ll bet it’s so he doesn’t have to bother remembering their names.”

Chapter
Eight

“Just wait until you see what’s on the dessert cart,” Han-nah said, watching as Jordan High senior, Amber Coombs, pushed the lusciously laden serving cart their way. Even from this distance, Hannah could see Sally’s towering Neapolitan cake, a six-layer concoction with alternating layers of chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry cake, each layer affixed to its neighboring layer with a matching frosting.

Ross gave a theatrical whimper as he eyed the contents of the cart, and Hannah knew exactly how he felt. It was close to impossible to choose one dessert when they all promised to enchant the taste buds.

“I want one of each,” Ross said.

“Me, too. But if we do that, Amber’s going to have to roll us out of the dining room.”

“We should have skipped the entrée and come straight here,” Ross remarked, pulling his gaze away from the decadent delights to smile at her. “I can still remember your motto in college. Always…”

“Eat dessert first,” Hannah joined in as he recited it.

“How about if we get two desserts and split?”

“That sounds perfect to me. It’s almost as good as getting two desserts apiece.” Hannah smiled up at Amber Coombs, who was trying not to laugh at their antics. “I’ll have a piece of Sally’s Flourless Chocolate Cake. With two forks.”

Ross had drawn a bead on the bowl of Apricot Bread Pudding, and he spoke without lifting his gaze. “And I’ll have the bread pudding. I’ve been dreaming about Hannah’s bread pudding ever since she packed up her recipes and left college. This looks a lot like one you used to make, Hannah.”

“That’s because it is,” Amber spoke up. “Mrs. Laughlin uses Miss Swensen’s recipe.”

“Well…that changes everything!” Ross said with a smile. “If it’s Hannah’s bread pudding, I’ll have a double helping.”

“Would you like that warmed?”

“Oh, yes.”

“With heavy cream, sweetened whipped cream, or vanilla ice cream?”

“Oh, yes.”

Amber cracked up, but she quickly sobered. “Would that be with all three of them, sir?”

“No, I’ll have the heavy cream. That’s the way Hannah used to serve it.” Ross glanced at Amber, who looked very pretty and trim in her flattering waitress uniform. “I wish you’d been at the auditions this afternoon, Amber. I would have cast you as one of the waitresses in the cocktail party scene.”

Amber, who up to this point had been the quintessential waitress, dropped her newfound maturity right along with her jaw. “Really, Mr. Barton?” she squeaked.

“Absolutely. Of course waiting on us tonight was just like an audition, wasn’t it?”

“If you say so, Mr. Barton,” Amber said, barely managing to hide her excitement.

“Then you’ve got the part if you want it. Do you think you can work it into your schedule?”

“Oh, yes!” Amber breathed. “Mr. Purvis, he’s the principal at Jordan High, told us we could take time off class if we got a part in the movie. All we have to do is make up the work later.”

Hannah watched Amber as Ross told her about the release form her mother would have to sign and when to report to wardrobe. Amber couldn’t seem to stop smiling and by the time she pushed the dessert cart away, she was practically dancing across the dining room.

“Maybe that was a mistake,” Ross said, watching the excited girl push the cart into the kitchen.

“You mean…you don’t want to use her in the movie?”

“Oh, no. I want to use her. It’s just that she’s so excited, she might forget about bringing my bread pudding.”

An hour later, Hannah was unlocking her condo door. Amber hadn’t forgotten Ross’s dessert and they’d devoured both of them with gusto.

“You’d better stand back,” Hannah said, her hand on the doorknob.

“Okay, but why?”

“Moishe has a greeting ritual when I come home at night.”

“Greeting ritual?”

“He jumps up into my arms. And since he weighs over twenty pounds, it knocks me back a step or two…especially if I forget to brace myself.”

“Forewarned is forearmed,” Ross said, moving closer and placing his hands against Hannah’s back. “If he knocks you over, I’ll catch you.

“Deal,” Hannah agreed, surprised at the reaction she had to Ross’s touch. Just this totally impersonal gesture even through his gloves and her coat made her heart beat a bit faster.

Ross gave a startled chuckle as Hannah opened the door and an orange-and-white ball of flying fur hurtled through the air directly at them. Hannah caught her cat expertly, resisted the urge to lean back against Ross even though she wasn’t one bit off-balance, and stepped forward into her living room.

“Meet Ross,” she said, giving Moishe a little scratch behind the ears before placing him on the ledge at the back of the couch. “If you act cute, Ross might make you into a movie star. Then she turned to Ross, who was smiling. “This is my roommate, Moishe.”

“Lucky cat,” Ross said with a grin.

Moishe stared at Hannah for a moment, as if he were digesting the information she’d given him about being a kitty movie star, and then he arched his back and went into his Halloween cat pose. He held that position for a moment or two, and then he relaxed his whole body and did what Hannah thought of as his kitty toupee, tucking his tail under his body and stretching out flat over the back of the couch like a miniature throw rug.

“He’s going through his paces,” Hannah told Ross. “Do you think he’s auditioning for you?”

“Without a doubt. He must have understood what you said about being a kitty movie star, and he wants his paw prints at Mann’s Chinese.”

“Not to mention his own star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame.” Hannah’s smile turned into a laugh as Moishe lifted his head and yawned widely, showing them a full set of sharp white teeth. Then he swiveled his ears, first together, like twin satellite dishes receiving the same signal, and then separately, one ear turning forward and the other backward.

“I still can’t do that,” Ross said, glancing over at Hannah. “Can you?”

Hannah shook her head. She knew exactly what Ross was talking about. When they were all in college, Lynne had learned to simultaneously move her right hand in a circle going forward, like a miniature Ferris Wheel, while her left moved in a circle traveling in the opposite direction, backward toward her chest. Both circles had to be started at the same time and they had to be of the same size and speed. “I tried for months and I still couldn’t do it. I think it takes more than practice.”

“I know it does. I practiced, too. Lynne didn’t. She got it right the first time she tried it. I’m sure there’s some sort of psychological measure we could devise about the differences between the people who can do it and the people who can’t, but we probably shouldn’t get into that now.”

Hannah turned to give Ross a sharp look, but he was staring at Moishe. Ross had claimed he wasn’t bitter about the breakup with Lynne, but she’d heard an undercurrent in his voice that told her it hadn’t been all sweetness and light. It wasn’t really any of her business and she certainly wasn’t going to ask him about it now, but that curious bone in her body began to tingle. “Do you want coffee?”

“I’d love some, if you’re not in a hurry to get to bed, or anything like that.”

What a line! Hannah thought, but it probably wasn’t and she wasn’t sure if she was disappointed, or not. “Coffee’s no trouble at all. I usually stay up until at least ten on nights before work, and it’s only a little after nine.”

“Okay. You’re the boss. What time do you open your shop?”

“We’ve been opening at nine. When the tourists are here in the summer, we open earlier.”

“Well, I don’t need you to open before ten, so that’ll give you an extra hour.”

“Not really. I promised to deliver Mr. Lawrence’s cheesecake at nine and I still have to bake it. That’ll take me about two hours.”

“Do you want company while you bake it?”

“Sure,” Hannah said, hoping Ross would be content to spend most of that time sitting at her kitchen table drinking coffee. Now that he was a big-time movie producer, he might have different ideas about what behavior was appropriate between two friends who hadn’t seen each other for years, but he was a guest in her home and that meant she defined the terms.

By the time Hannah came back with two mugs of coffee, Ross was sitting on the couch and Moishe was on his lap. “He must know it’s a casting couch,” she quipped, and then wished she hadn’t when Ross gave her a devilish smile.

“Well, he’s got the part so he doesn’t have to extend himself any further. His owner, however, could…”

Right on cue, Moishe yowled, interrupting what Hannah was fairly certain had been an opening gambit from her old college chum. Then her overprotective feline undraped himself and settled down on the couch between them, discouraging any possible intimacy.

“Does he do this with everyone?” Ross asked, just as the phone rang.

“Only men,” Hannah answered, reaching out to pick up the receiver. “Hello?”

“Hi, Hannah.” Hannah frowned as she recognized Mike’s voice. “I just wanted to tell you that someone drove through the wooden arm on your entrance gate again.”

“I know. It was broken when we came in. It happens almost every weekend. People put their gate cards next to their credit cards and the little magnetic strip gets corrupted. And then, when it won’t open the gate, they get mad and drive right through.”

“You’re probably right, but you don’t know for sure,” Mike sounded very serious. “Someone could have broken in and I thought I should warn you.”

“Okay, I’m warned. Thanks for calling, Mike.”

“Don’t hang up, Hannah! I was just thinking that maybe I should come over so you’re not alone. I mean, you shouldn’t be alone when someone could be out there roaming around with an eye to a possible break-in.”

And the only thing you’re concerned about is my safety, Hannah thought, but instead of saying that, she said, “That’s okay, Mike. I’m not alone.”

“You’re not? But it’s almost ten o’clock and you always go to bed at ten on work nights. I mean, you have to get up early to open the shop tomorrow, don’t you?”

“Not really. Ross just told me that I don’t have to open until ten,” Hannah said, not mentioning that she still had a cheesecake to bake. “Isn’t that just great?”

“Great,” Mike repeated, sounding massively insincere. “So…maybe I’ll take a run out there and do a little patrolling on foot. You know…just to make sure and all. That broken gate has been nagging at me ever since I saw it.”

Gotcha! Hannah thought and started to smile. She’d suspected from the beginning that Mike was calling because he was jealous of the time she was spending with Ross, and now she knew it for a fact. “Ever since you saw it?”

“Yeah. Uh…it’s like this, Hannah. I had to take a run out your way earlier. Somebody thought they spotted a guy on one of those Most Wanted programs. And since I was so close anyway, I decided to drop by to see if you were home. That’s when I noticed the gate.”

“I see,” Hannah said, seeing much more than Mike had hoped she would. “Well, you don’t have to bother. Everything’s perfectly all right out here. Thanks for being concerned, though. I appreciate it. See you tomorrow, Mike.”

“So Mike’s jealous?” Ross asked the moment Hannah hung up the phone.

“You could say that. I might not say it because it wouldn’t be nice, but you could.”

Ross laughed. “He’s jealous, all right. It’s probably because you turned him down.”

“How do you know about that?”

“Michelle told me. I asked if you were dating anyone, and she gave me the lowdown.”

“It seems that everybody knows my business,” Hannah said, trying not to sound churlish.

“Life’s like that a lot. I’ll give him five minutes. How about you?”

“Who?”

“Norman. Mike’s bound to touch base with him. They’re probably in each other’s back pockets, now that you rejected them both. There’s nothing that unites two former rivals more than a third guy coming on the scene.”

“And the third guy would be you?” Hannah asked, noticing his wicked grin and smiling in spite of herself.

“Oh, yes. That would be me. So, do you want to bet, or…” The phone rang again, interrupting Ross’s sentence and he laughed. “There he is.”

“It’s not him.”

“How can you tell?”

“Look at Moishe,” Hannah said, gesturing toward the feline between them.

“What’s wrong with him? He’s all puffed up and his hair is standing on end.”

“Cats do that instinctually when they’re angry or frightened. It’s a defense mechanism to make them look bigger. Moishe gets like this when Mother calls. He’s not infallible, but he gets it right more times than he gets it wrong.” She plucked the receiver from the cradle and brought it up to her ear. “Hello, Mother.”

“I wish you wouldn’t answer the phone like that, Hannah,” Delores complained, but Hannah could tell from her tone of voice that her heart wasn’t it it. “Carrie just called. She said Norman told her that Ross was still out at your place. Don’t you think it’s time you went to bed?”

“What a marvelous idea!” Hannah turned to grin at Ross. “I’ll tell him you suggested it. I really had no idea you were so liberal minded.”

There was a sputtering on the line, a close cousin to the sound of Bill’s old Ford when the plugs were dirty. “That’s not what I meant and you know it!” Delores finally managed to say. “What are you doing, Hannah?”

“We’re having coffee, Mother. And then I’m going to bake a cheesecake. But your suggestion sounds like a lot more fun than…”

“Cut that out right now, Hannah Louise!” Delores interrupted her.

“Just kidding, Mother.”

“Well, it’s not funny! I want you to bake that cheesecake now. And then send him straight home. Don’t forget that you have to face yourself in the mirror in the morning.”

Hannah heard a resounding click and she laughed as she hung up the phone. “I’m a mean person. I gave my mother such a hard time, she hung up on me. A good daughter wouldn’t have done that.”

“Maybe not, but it feels good once in a while, doesn’t it?”

“It sure does!” Hannah turned to give him a grin. “Your five minutes are almost up and Norman hasn’t…” The phone pealed loudly, drowning out the rest of her sentence.

“That’s Norman,” Ross said.

“You’re probably right.” Hannah reached for the phone. “Hello, Norman.”

“Hi, Hannah. I figured you’d rather hear from me than my mother.”

“You got that right!”

“I just wanted to ask…I don’t have anything to worry about with Ross, do I?”

Hannah stifled the urge to give Norman an earful about privacy, and personal freedom, and sticking his nose into someone else’s business, but she didn’t. He’d asked her straight out instead of being devious, and she owed him a straight answer. “If you ever do, I’ll let you know. How’s that?”

“Fair enough,” Norman said. “Good night, Hannah. I love you, you know.”

“I know,” Hannah said, wishing she could return the sentiment, but not wanting to give him false hope. She gently replaced the receiver in the cradle and turned to Ross. “Seems like the whole town’s talking about us.”

“I figured as much. I hate to say it, but maybe I’d better go. There’ll be other times…won’t there?”

“That’s up to you,” Hannah said, giving him a playful grin as she headed for the chair by the door to get his coat.

SALLY’S FLOURLESS CHOCOLATE CAKE

Preheat oven to 375 degrees F., rack in the middle position

Hannah’s Note: This cake is going to fall in the center. There’s just no way around it since there’s no flour to hold it up. That really doesn’t matter, because it’s so delicious. Just be prepared to cover up the crater in the middle with plenty of whipped cream—Sally whips two cups of cream sweetened with 1/3 cup of powdered sugar, spreads it on the top, and shaves some bittersweet chocolate on top of that.

½ cup butter (1 stick, ¼ pound)

8 ounces semi-sweet chocolate chips (1 and 1/3 cups—I used Ghirardelli’s)

4 egg yolks (save the whites in a separate bowl for later)

½ cup white (granulated) sugar

½ teaspoon rum extract (or vanilla if you don’t have rum)

4 egg whites (the ones you saved)

¼ cup white (granulated) sugar (you’ll use ¾ cup in all)

sweetened whipped cream to decorate top

shaved chocolate or chocolate curls to decorate top (optional)

sliced or whole berries to decorate top (optional)

Spray an 8-inch Springform pan with Pam or other non-stick cooking spray. (An 8 ½-inch Springform will also work, but a 9-inch is too big.) Line the bottom of the pan with a circle of parchment paper (wax paper will also work.) Spray the paper with Pam or other non-stick cooking spray.

In a small microwave-safe bowl, combine butter and semi-sweet chocolate chips. Melt for one minute on HIGH, stir, and heat for an additional 20 seconds if necessary. (Some chocolate maintains its shape even when melted. Stir before you microwave for the additional time.) Cover your bowl, or put it back in the microwave, to keep it warm.

In a medium bowl, beat ½ cup of granulated sugar with the egg yolks until they’re a light yellow in color. Mix in the rum extract.(This is easy with an electric mixer, although you can do it by hand.)

Stir a bit of the egg yolk mixture into the melted chocolate to temper it. Then add the chocolate to the egg yolk mixture and stir until it’s well blended.

In a large bowl, using clean beaters, beat the egg whites until soft peaks form. Continue beating while sprinkling in the remaining ¼ cup granulated sugar. Beat until stiff peaks form (about ½ minute.)

Stir just a bit of the egg white mixture into the bowl with the chocolate. Now add the chocolate to the bowl with the rest of the egg whites and gently fold it in with a rubber spatula. Continue folding until the mixture is a uniform chocolate color.

Pour the batter into the cake pan and smooth the top with a rubber spatula. Bake at 375 degrees F. for 35 minutes or until a wooden pick or cake tester inserted in the center comes out dry.

Cool in the pan on a wire rack for 15 minutes. Run a knife around the inside of the rim of the pan, invert the pan on a serving plate, and cool for another 10 minutes. Release the catch on the Springform pan and remove it. DON’T PEEL OFF THE PARCHMENT PAPER UNTIL THE CAKE IS COMPLETELY COOL TO THE TOUCH.

When you’re ready to serve, fill in the crater in the center and frost the top of the cake with sweetened whipped cream. If you want it to look fancy, decorate it with chocolate shavings, chocolate curls, and/or a sprinkling of raspberries or strawberries. Slice it and serve it on dessert plates with plenty of excellent coffee.

Hannah’s 2nd Note: This is really a type of chocolate soufflé and it’s delicious!

Chapter
Nine

It was eight-thirty on Monday morning and Hannah was at her wit’s end. Moishe, her wannabe movie star, was yowling like a banshee. He’d been expressing his extreme displeasure ever since she’d delivered him to the kitchen of The Cookie Jar and placed him in the crate Eleanor Cox had provided for the week. The crate was large and roomy. Eleanor rescued huskies and malamutes, and these homes away from home were designed to accommodate large-breed dogs. It had a nice, soft pad on the bottom and Moishe had plenty of space to stroll around. Hannah had equipped it with his food and water bowls, his litter box, and even the feather pillow he loved so much at home. Despite all these comforts, Moishe was not a happy cat and he wasn’t one to hide his emotions.

Hannah had wracked her brain and tried every trick she could think of to make her pet feel at home. She’d turned the crate so that Moishe could see them working, and put music on the radio so that he wouldn’t feel deprived. She’d gone over to reach through the grating and pet him every few minutes, and she’d even resorted to bribing him with a fresh pot of catnip that Lisa had grown in her greenhouse. Nothing had worked. It was clear that Moishe would complain until he lost his voice and then heaven knew what he’d do!

“Six,” Hannah said, shaking her head as her usually accommodating feline roommate tipped over his bowl of water. “But who’s counting?” She glanced over at her partner, who was smiling despite the fact that Moishe was vocalizing, and that was putting it nicely, at the top of his lungs. “How can you smile when you have to listen to that?”

“Excuse me?” Lisa asked, frowning slightly. “I didn’t hear you, Hannah.”

It was little wonder, Hannah thought, shaking her head. Just like the teens who listened to music blaring from their earphones, Lisa had probably experienced what Hannah hoped would be a temporary hearing loss. “I said,” Hannah got set to repeat herself in a much louder voice. “How can you smile when you have to listen to that?”

“Oh, gosh! Sorry!” Lisa apologized as she reached up with both hands to pull two small, bright orange objects from her ears.

“You’re wearing ear plugs?”

“Yes. I got them from Herb. They’re the kind we use when we go cowboy shooting.”

Hannah laughed. It amused her every time Lisa referred to cowboy shooting. It sounded as if her partner went out to shoot cowboys, but the only things Lisa and Herb had in their sights were steel targets. Cowboy shooting was a sport with stages that replicated Wild West settings. Everyone wore period clothing and participants were judged on their speed and accuracy using replicas of guns that had been available during the period.

“I know, we don’t actually shoot cowboys,” Lisa correctly interpreted Hannah’s laugh, “but that’s what everyone calls it. When I told Herb that you were bringing Moishe down here and keeping him in a crate so he’d be handy when they needed him for a scene, he figured I’d need earplugs.”

Moishe gave another deafening yowl and both Hannah and Lisa reached up to cover their ears. When the sound stopped, Hannah gave an exasperated sigh. “I don’t suppose you’ve got another pair of those?”

“I was a Girl Scout. I come prepared.” Lisa reached into her apron pocket and handed Hannah a new pair of earplugs. “Just roll them around in your hands for a few seconds to compress them, and then push them in your ears. They’ll expand to fit.”

Hannah did what her partner advised and soon both women were working in relative peace. Moishe’s yowls, although every bit as loud as they’d been before, had faded by the grace of the bright orange barriers to fit into their auditory comfort zone.

Once nine o’clock approached, Hannah went to the cooler to retrieve the cheesecake she’d baked after Ross had left the previous evening. “I’m going to run over to Mr. Lawrence’s trailer to deliver this,” she told Lisa. “Have some coffee and relax. We don’t open for another hour.”

“Do you think he’ll stop yowling soon?” Lisa asked, moving closer so that she could hear Hannah’s answer.

“Your guess is as good as mine. Try turning out the kitchen lights and going in the coffee shop. He’s used to being alone all day and maybe that’ll do it.”

“You think?”

“Not really, but it’s worth a try. And dream up some story about how he’s just rehearsing for a singing career in case the S.P.C.A. drops by.”

As Hannah approached the huge Winnebago, she was impressed. It was a home on wheels in the true sense of the words, and it must have cost a pretty penny to rent it. The only other motor home she’d seen that approximated the size of the one Dean Lawrence was using as an office was at the Road Deals on Wheels Trade Show she’d attended last year with Andrea and Bill. That particular motor home, the featured item at the show, had cost triple the price of a nice two-bedroom home in Lake Eden.

Hannah supposed she could understand the outlay of money if the big motor home had doubled as a hotel room, but the director of Crisis in Cherrywood was comfortably billeted in a luxury suite at the Lake Eden Inn. There was no way he needed an office this large.

Since she couldn’t stand here staring at this example of conspicuous consumption all day, Hannah looked for an entrance to the massive mobile home. There were two sets of steps. One was in the rear, but the other set, at the side near the front of the vehicle, had a sign that read, ENTRANCE—RING BELL.

Hannah did as she’d been directed and stood there shivering slightly in the frozen air. The March mornings were crisp and cold, and she hadn’t bothered zipping up her parka coat. Until someone invented a zipper that could be operated with one hand, Hannah chose to shiver rather than turn around, go back down the steps, and set her prized cheesecake in the snow in order to zip up her coat.

One of the curtains near the back of the motor home pulled back slightly and Hannah thought she heard faint voices from within. It sounded like a man’s voice, and whatever the man said was followed by female laughter. A moment later, Hannah heard the male voice again, much louder this time. “Just wait a second! I’ll be right there!”

Hannah’s curiosity shifted to high gear, especially since Ross had described his director as a womanizer. She told herself it was none of her business, that he might have been listening to television and that’s what she’d heard, but she didn’t believe it for a second. There was a woman in Dean Lawrence’s Winnebago. She was sure of it. The only thing she didn’t know was which woman it was.

A moment later, Dean pulled open the door, greeting her with a smile and a fork held high. “See, Lovey? I’ve got my fork ready. Just bring it in and set it on my desk.”

Hannah was surprised he’d invited her in, especially since the woman had to be somewhere in the immediate vicinity. She set the cake down on the polished desk that sat against the large window, and glanced down the hallway. If she remembered correctly, the motor home she’d seen had the master bedroom in the rear. But there was no way of telling if the director’s motor home shared the same design, because the door at the end of the long corridor was closed.

“I really hope you like it, Mr. Lawrence,” Hannah said setting the box down on the uncluttered surface.

“It’s Dean,” he corrected her, lifting the top of the bakery box and gazing down at the cheesecake. “It looks perfect, but looks aren’t everything. I’m quite a connoisseur, you know. Promise me you won’t have any hard feelings if I give you some constructive criticism?”

“Okay, no hard feelings,” Hannah said, although she knew it was a promise she couldn’t keep. Of course she’d have hard feelings if Dean didn’t like her cheesecake!

“Good for you, Lovey. You have no idea how many people can’t take criticism, even when it’s friendly and for their own benefit. Would you cut me a slice?”

“Of course.” Hannah folded down the sides of the box so that she could lift her cheesecake out without damaging it. “I’ll need a knife.”

“There should be one here somewhere. They took out the kitchen to make a larger space for my office, but they left some things in the cupboards and drawers.”

As Dean brushed past her, she jumped slightly. Unless she was imagining things, Mr. Lawrence had just patted her inappropriately! Hannah turned around to glance at him, but he was busily pawing through the contents of the drawers for a knife. Perhaps he had just bumped into her. It was difficult to tell if his touch had been intentional when she was wearing her heavily quilted parka coat.

Even though the Bad Boy Director was making quite a racket, opening drawers and slamming them closed, Hannah heard a door shut at the back of the Winnebago and a faint clanging as someone went down the set of metal steps at the rear of the vehicle. Whoever had been in the master bedroom, if it was the master bedroom and hadn’t been turned into some sort of a workroom, had exited the back way. That was certainly suspicious. If Dean’s early morning visitor had come to see him for business reasons, she should have come out to greet Hannah and enjoy a piece of cheesecake.

Hannah was just inching toward the curtain, hoping to peek out to catch a glimpse of Dean’s visitor, when he came back holding a knife and a plate.

“Here you go, Lovey. I found a plate, too. I would have brought another, but I assumed you had to get back to your shop.”

“You’re right. I do.” Hannah cut a slice of the creamy cheesecake and slid it onto the plate. “We’re opening in less than an hour.”

“I’ll see you later then.”

Dean reached out to give her a little hug and his hand was overly affectionate. Hannah stepped back. Was that intentional? She couldn’t quite decide.

“I’ll see you at lunch. And I’ll let you know what I think of your cheesecake then. Right now, I have to get back to work myself.”

It was a dismissal and Hannah turned to go, even though she really wanted to know what he thought of her creation. Dean was being pretty high-handed, if you asked her, and she wondered if his cast felt the same way. Constructive criticism, indeed! And even more important, had Dean made a pass at her? She just wasn’t sure if he had, or hadn’t.

As Hannah opened the door to go, she decided to give Dean the benefit of the doubt. The trailer was wide, but not as wide as a regular office. And the area they’d been in was crowded with his massive desk and office equipment. Perhaps it had been difficult to get past a less than svelte woman in the confines of the trailer. Everything that had happened could be perfectly unintentional.

Hannah reminded herself to look on the bright side as she closed the door behind her and hurried down the stairs. Less than two minutes had elapsed since she’d heard Dean’s visitor go down the back stairs. If she were very lucky, Hannah might still catch a glimpse of her.

She hadn’t been lucky. Dean’s visitor had been gone by the time she’d stepped outside. All Hannah had found when she took a slight detour past the back of the Winnebago on her way to her truck were footsteps in the snow. The footsteps were much smaller than most men would leave and the heel mark was a dead giveaway, since the heels on men’s shoes were usually only slightly smaller than the overall width. Hannah felt safe in surmising that she’d been correct when she’d identified the laughter she’d heard as female.

When Hannah opened the back door of The Cookie Jar, she found Lisa sitting at the stainless steel work island across from Mike and Norman. Both men had coffee and cookies, and all was blessedly silent from the vicinity of Moishe’s crate.

“Moishe gave up?” she asked Lisa, shrugging out of her coat and hanging it on a hook by the back door.

“He negotiated a truce,” Norman answered, moving back on his stool so Hannah could see that he was holding Moishe on his lap. “He’s just fine as long as someone pays attention to him.”

“We tried putting him back in, but he started yowling the minute Norman got him near the cage,” Mike informed her.

“It’s a crate,” Hannah corrected. “A nice big home-away-from-home crate.”

“Technically yes, but he thinks it’s a cage. Why don’t you put on his leash and leave him out?”

Hannah’s eyebrows rose in surprise. She couldn’t believe that Mike was suggesting something illegal. “Believe me, I’d like to! His yowling drives me crazy, but I’m taking a chance just having him here. I think it’s okay as long as he’s away from the cookies we bake and serve, but I’m not a hundred percent sure of that.”

“Don’t worry about it, Hannah. You can forget about the health board.”

Hannah’s mouth dropped open. “Forget about the health board? I can’t believe you said that, Mike. The health board has the power to cite me and fine me. And if the inspector’s really in a bad mood, they could yank my license and close me down!”

“No, they can’t. You’re already closed down for the week. What you have here is a private party for the movie cast and crew. And since Moishe is an official part of the cast, he’s got a perfect right to be here.”

Hannah turned to look at Lisa, who shrugged. “Maybe I’m crazy, but it sounds reasonable to me.”

“Me, too,” Norman said, giving Moishe a scratch under the chin.

“Our eardrums salute you,” Hannah said with a grin, turning back to Mike. “But…are you sure I won’t get into trouble?”

“I’m sure. Don’t forget that I’m the acting sheriff. If I say that it’s a private party and health department regulations don’t apply, then it’s a private party and health department regulations don’t apply.”

Hannah clamped her lips shut. She suspected that the power of his new office might be corrupting Mike, but she’d wait until next week to point it out to him.

The first arrivals started to trickle in shortly after they opened at ten o’clock. Hannah met Sophie, the wardrobe mistress, and Honey, the head beautician. Ross had rented Bertie Straub’s shop, the Cut ’n Curl, for the week and Honey was using it as her headquarters. Bertie was acting as an advisor on hairstyles of the fifties, and unlike Delores, who didn’t want to admit that she remembered the fifties, Bertie didn’t seem to mind at all.

As the minutes passed, more members of the crew came in. There was Clark, one of the cameramen, who explained to Hannah that he’d be shooting some footage of Moishe that afternoon, and Coop, the soundman, who’d be there, too. Lars, the head electrician, told Hannah that when it came to the film world, the terminology was different than it was in everyday life. For instance, the men who handled electrical cables were called grips. Dom, the assistant director, chimed in to tell her that the people who handled animal actors were called wranglers even if the animal in question wasn’t a horse, and she would be listed in the screen credits at the end of the film, which were called a crawl, as the cat wrangler. That tickled Hannah’s funny bone and she chuckled about it all the way back to the counter to get three Old Fashioned Sugar Cookies for Frances, the middle-aged woman who told Hannah that she was the script girl.

Hannah was just heading back to the counter for the second time to get Jared, the set decorator, a refill on his coffee when she happened to notice that the swinging door between the coffee shop and the kitchen was inching open. As they watched, an orange-and-white leg poked out and a moment after that, Moishe’s head appeared. Hannah was just springing into action to catch her errant feline before he could disturb the cast and crew, when there was a startled yowl and Moishe was pulled back into the kitchen.

“Uh-oh,” Hannah breathed. Norman and Mike had offered to take care of Moishe, but he must have gotten away from them. They couldn’t cat-sit forever and it was time to figure out a way to keep him confined to the kitchen where he wouldn’t bother anyone. She motioned for Lisa to refill Jared’s mug, pointed to herself and then to the kitchen door, and hurried to take care of the problem.

“Sorry about that,” Mike said, as soon as Hannah came through the door. “He got away from us for a second. We decided we’re going to take him out there.”

Hannah shook her head. “I don’t think that’s…”

The rest of Hannah’s sentence was drowned out by a massive yowl. Moishe had regained his vocal power and he was exercising it to the fullest.

“I don’t think he’s going to settle for less,” Norman observed. “Come on, Big Boy. Let’s go.”

Without another word to Hannah, Norman picked Moishe up and headed toward the coffee shop with Mike following in his wake. Hannah just stared after them as the door swung closed.

“Catnapped,” she said, listening for disaster to break loose. Thirty seconds passed, and then a full minute as Hannah watched the second hand on the kitchen clock. Was Moishe actually going to behave like a well-trained movie cat and not scratch, or yowl, or exercise any of the other bad kitty behaviors he’d perfected over the years? She was listening so intently and concentrating so hard, it came as a shock when there was a sharp knock on the back door. “Coming,” Hannah called out and went to open it.

It was Andrea and she was dressed to the nines. Her coat was powder blue suede with white fur around the collar and the hemline, and she wore matching gloves of pale blue leather. Her boots matched her gloves, and the only thing that was missing from the ensemble that Hannah called Andrea’s Princess of Winter outfit was the white fur hat that she usually wore on her head.

“No hat?” Hannah asked, taking her sister’s coat and hanging it up on the rack near the back door.

“The dog ate it.”

“What dog? You don’t have a dog.”

“I know. It was Reverend Knudson’s dog, Vespers. She got out and Bill spotted her in front of the community center. He put Vespers in the backseat and took her home. It happened a couple of weeks ago.”

“And your hat was in the backseat?”

“That’s right.”

“And Vespers ate it?”

“Well…she tore up more than she ate. We couldn’t really blame her. I think it was made out of real fur. I’m just glad it didn’t make her sick.”

Hannah reached out to give her sister a little hug, an unusual gesture from a member of the Swensen clan who weren’t known for being demonstrative.

“What was that for?” Andrea asked.

“For being more concerned about Vespers than you were about losing your hat. I’m proud of you, Sis.”

“Oh. Well…the hat was last season’s anyway.” Andrea waved off the compliment, but Hannah could tell she was pleased. “How about a cookie for Lake Eden’s newest stage mother?”

“Tracey got the part?”

“Yes, and I’m so excited! Mr. Barton called us this morning with the good news. It wasn’t just up to him, you know. Mr. Lawrence had to approve her.”

“How could he not approve her?” Hannah waited until Andrea sat down on a stool at the work island, and then she served her hot coffee and two of their newest experimental cookies. “There was never any doubt in my mind that Tracey would get the part. I saw her audition and she was brilliant.”

Andrea looked very proud. “I thought she was brilliant, too. I was ninety-nine percent sure she had it, but I didn’t want to count my chickens before they were laid.”

“Hatched. Chickens are hatched, eggs are laid.”

“That’s what I meant to say. I’m just so happy about it, I can’t talk straight.”

“So when does Tracey start?”

“Her first big scene is Wednesday, but she has to report to makeup today at three. And after that she gets fitted for her costumes. I have to go over to Mr. Lawrence’s office at noon to pick up an official script for her. I’ll run lines with her tonight so she can practice.”

“Run lines?”

“Yes. That’s what they call it in the biz. You know, I’ll read the line before hers, and she’ll respond with her line.”

Hannah debated silently for a moment and then she decided she’d better take her sister into her confidence. “You said you’re going to Mr. Lawrence’s trailer?”

“Yes, at noon.”

“Well, be careful.”

“Why?” Andrea stopped with the cookie midway to her mouth.

“He has quite a reputation with women.”

“How do you know? Did he make a pass at you?”

“I’m not sure.”

Andrea dropped her cookie back on the napkin. “How can you not be sure if somebody made a pass at you? It’s not rocket science, you know. They either did, or they didn’t.”

“I couldn’t tell for sure. I was wearing my big parka coat, and he brushed past me in a small space, and…never mind. Let’s just say a reputable source told me he does that sort of thing, and you’d be smart if you took someone with you, just in case.”

“Don’t worry about me. I can handle myself around men. I’ve never been unfaithful to Bill and I never will be.” Andrea tossed her head and a hard look came into her eyes. “I just wish I could say the same for Bill!”

Hannah gulped. Her sister had been sweetness and light just a second ago, and now she looked as if she could spit nails. “What happened?”

“Absolutely nothing and that’s the problem.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Bill called me last night and we talked for a long time. I was just getting ready for bed when I realized that I hadn’t told him about the car.”

“What about the car?”

“Cyril Murphy says it needs new tires on the back, but that’s not important. What’s important is that I called Bill back in his hotel room, and there was no answer.”

“Maybe he was sleeping?”

“Bill’s been a cop for too long. Even if he’s dead beat, he always wakes up when the phone rings.”

“Well…maybe he stepped out for a minute to stretch his legs, or something like that.”

“At two in the morning?”

“Um…that is pretty late.” Hannah searched her mind for another excuse. “Maybe he couldn’t sleep and he went down to the bar for a nightcap.”

“The bar closes at one.”

“Oh. Well…maybe you dialed the wrong number.”

“That’s what I thought, at first. But then I called the hotel switchboard and I asked them to connect me directly.”

“And there was still no answer?” Andrea nodded and Hannah saw her sister’s eyes begin to glisten with unshed tears. “Don’t jump to conclusions, Andrea. I’m sure there’s some explanation.”

“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of!”

Oh, boy! Hannah said under her breath.

“Well?” Andrea asked, lifting her chin and looking straight into her sister’s eyes. “What do you think I should do?”

“There’s only one thing to do,” Hannah replied quickly. “Eat chocolate. Just sit here and try to relax and I’ll get you a whole plateful of cookies.”

CHERRY CHEESECAKE

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F., rack in the middle position

For the crust:

2 cups vanilla wafer cookie crumbs (measure AFTER crushing)

¾ stick melted butter (6 Tablespoons)

1 teaspoon almond extract

Pour melted butter and almond extract over cookie crumbs. Mix with a fork until they’re evenly moistened.

Cut a circle of parchment paper (or wax paper) to fit inside the bottom of a 9-inch Springform pan. Spray the pan with Pam or some other non-stick cooking spray, set the paper circle in place, and spray with Pam again.

Dump the moistened cookie crumbs in the pan and press them down over the paper circle and one-inch up the sides. Stick the pan in the freezer for 15 to 30 minutes while you prepare the rest of the cheesecake.

For the topping:

2 cups sour cream

½ cup white (granulated) sugar

1 teaspoon vanilla

21-ounce can cherry pie filling[***] (I used Comstock Dark Sweet Cherry)

Mix the sour cream, sugar, and vanilla together in a small bowl. Cover and refrigerate. Set the unopened can of cherry pie filling in the refrigerator for later.

For the cheesecake batter:

1 cup white (granulated) sugar

3 eight-ounce packages cream cheese at room temperature (total 24 ounces)

1 cup mayonnaise (not Miracle Whip)

4 eggs

2 cups white chocolate chips (11-or 12-ounce bag—I used Ghirardelli’s)

2 teaspoons vanilla

Place the sugar in the bowl of an electric mixer. Add the blocks of cream cheese and the mayonnaise, and whip it up at medium speed until it’s smooth. Add the eggs, one at a time, beating after each addition.

Melt the white chocolate chips in a microwave-safe bowl for 2 minutes. (Chips may retain their shape, so stir to see if they’re melted—if not, microwave in 15-second increments until you can stir them smooth.) Cool the melted white chocolate for a minute or two and then mix it in gradually at slow speed. Scrape down the bowl and add the vanilla, mixing it in thoroughly.

Pour the batter on top of the chilled crust, set the pan on a cookie sheet to catch any drips, and bake it at 350 degrees F. for 55 minutes. Remove the pan from the oven, but DON’T SHUT OFF THE OVEN.

Starting in the center, spoon the sour cream topping over the top of the cheesecake, spreading it out to within a half-inch of the rim. Return the pan to the oven and bake for an additional 5 minutes.

Cool the cheesecake in the pan on a wire rack. When the pan is cool enough to pick up with your bare hands, place it in the refrigerator and chill it, uncovered, for at least 8 hours.

To serve, run a knife around the inside rim of the pan, release the Springform catch, and lift off the rim. Place a piece of waxed paper on a flat plate and tip it upside down over the top of your cheesecake. Invert the cheesecake so that it rests on the paper.

Carefully pry off the bottom of the Springform pan and remove the paper from the bottom crust.

Invert a serving platter over the bottom crust of your cheesecake. Flip the cheesecake right side up, take off the top plate, and remove the waxed paper.

Spread the cherry pie filling over the sour cream topping on your cheesecake. You can drizzle a little down the sides if you wish.

Hannah’s Note: I’ve made this cheesecake with other pie fillings including blueberry, apple, raspberry, and even lemon. It’s wonderful with any one you choose.

Mother says you have to serve this cheesecake with strong coffee—it’s just too rich to eat without something to sip.

Chapter
Ten

“I feel much better,” Andrea said, finishing her last cookie and giving her older sister a half smile. “It’s almost as good as rocking Bethany and having her fall asleep in my arms. These are my new favorite cookies, Hannah. What do you call them?”

“Mock Turtles. They’ve got pecans, caramel, and chocolate, just like the candy.”

“That’s a great name. They even look like turtles.”

Hannah nodded, not mentioning that the candy had been named for the same reason.

“Why does chocolate always make you feel better?”

“I think it’s the endorphins, but I don’t know for sure. Whatever it is, it works.”

“They should set up a chocolate stand in every courthouse, right outside the divorce court.”

Uh-oh, Hannah thought, searching desperately for something to say to get her sister’s mind off divorce. “Maybe Herb should pass out chocolates every time he writes a parking ticket.”

“It might help,” Andrea said, squaring her shoulders. “There’s probably a perfectly good explanation and I’ll laugh when I hear it. I just don’t know what it is yet.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” Hannah agreed, knowing that her sister was still thinking about the unanswered call to her husband in the wee, small hours of the morning.

“Maybe he left a message for me on my voice mail,” Andrea reached for her cell phone, the small leather-bound notebook she used to jot down messages, and the expensive pen that fit in a leather loop on the front of the notebook. “I’d better check.”

Hannah watched as her sister began to retrieve her messages and write them down. She’d learned to read upside down at an early age, and she knew it was due to innate laziness more than a desire to learn an unusual skill. One of her responsibilities as Andrea and Michelle’s big sister had been to listen to them read aloud before bedtime. They’d always sat cross-legged on the foot of her bed, facing Hannah as she’d rested on the pillows propped up against the headboard. It had been easier for her to learn to read upside down, providing the occasional unknown word for them from her comfortable perch, than to get out of bed and walk around to peer at the page over their shoulders.

Mall—Business Cards, Andrea wrote in her perfectly formed script at the top of the small page. Then she paused for a moment, the tip of her pen double-underlining the underline she’d placed at the bottom of the first message.

The pen moved again and Hannah squinted. It was a lot easier to read printing than cursive, but she persevered. Formula, the next note read. Unless Andrea had suddenly developed an interest in higher mathematics, Grandma McCann, Bethany’s live-in babysitter, must have called to remind her to pick up baby food on the way home.

“Uh-oh!” Andrea breathed, and Hannah watched as the next notation took form. Three dozen snacks—room mothers’ meeting today! Andrea underlined the word today three times for emphasis and then she pressed a button on the phone and lifted it from her ear. “Hannah? I’m in deep trouble. Could you possibly…?”

“Sure, if cookies will do it. How about three dozen or so?”

“That’s perfect! But how did you know I needed something?”

“I guess the sister–sister radar must be working,” Hannah said with a shrug.

Andrea frowned slightly and Hannah held her breath. Had she remembered their bedtime reading and Hannah’s ability to provide a word without getting up? But Andrea gave a little shrug and then she smiled. “You’re the best, Hannah. I was going to stop at the Red Owl to pick up some squeezable pimento cheese spread and crackers, but I forgot they’d be closed.”

“That’s okay,” Hannah said, trying not to shudder. Her taste buds lumped squeezable cheese spread in the same category as instant coffee.

Andrea punched another number on her phone and picked up her pen again. She listened for a moment and then she began to smile as the tip of her pen formed a heart on the page.

A moment later, the phone, notebook, and pen were back in Andrea’s neatly organized purse and she was smiling from ear to ear. “Guess what happened?”

“You won the lottery.”

“No, but it’s every bit as good as that. Bill’s phone was unplugged! He didn’t realize it until he got up this morning, and he was an hour late for his first seminar. He stopped by the desk and chewed them out for not giving him his wakeup call, but they said they did and he didn’t answer. They sent a maid up to his room to check it out and she discovered that one of Bill’s pillows had slipped down behind the headboard and knocked his phone cord loose in the middle of the night!”

“So you worried for nothing,” Hannah said, giving her sister a big smile.

“I guess so! I mean, it’s the oldest excuse in the book. You know, I was home all night. There must have been something wrong with the phone, but that’s exactly what happened. At least that’s what Bill told me.”

As Hannah watched, Andrea’s smile faded and she began to chew on her lower lip, something she hadn’t done, to Hannah’s knowledge, since Miss Bruder caught her putting on eye shadow in the girl’s bathroom in fifth grade.

“What do you think, Hannah?” she asked, looking up at her older sister anxiously. “Am I a fool for believing a tired old excuse like that?”

Hannah didn’t even have to think about her answer, since there was only one reply. “Absolutely not,” she said.

“But…what if Bill’s lying to me?”

“What if he is? Do you want to divorce him?”

“No! I love Bill!”

“Then you have to choose to believe him. Maybe he’s lying and your trust will be misplaced, but that’s a whole lot better than not believing him when he’s telling you the truth.”

Andrea thought about that for a long moment. “That makes perfect sense. You’re a wise woman, Hannah.”

“Not really,” Hannah said with a smile. “If I were that wise, I’d be independently wealthy, happily married, and Congress would declare me a national treasure. And so far, I’m none of the above.”

After Andrea had left with the box of cookies for her afternoon meeting, Hannah sat back down at the work island and lingered over the last few sips of coffee in her mug. She could hear faint conversation and an occasional laugh from the coffee shop, but those sounds were perfectly benign. There were no yowls from her thespian tomcat, not even the slightest mew. As far as she could tell, Moishe was behaving perfectly.

“It’s quiet…too quiet,” Hannah recited the line she’d heard in dozens of grade B cowboy movies. The line always occurred right before the Indians attacked, and even though Hannah knew exactly what was going to happen, those four words still put her on the edge of her seat. She felt like that now, just waiting for Moishe to kick up a fuss. Finally, unable to stand the tension any longer, Hannah got up and headed to the coffee shop to see how her furry friend was doing.

As she pushed open the door, Hannah heard someone speaking in the artificially high voice people tend to use when they’re talking to infants. The source of the sound was Sophie, the wardrobe mistress, but there was no baby in sight. The handsome sweetums Sophie was addressing was none other than Hannah’s cat!

Moishe was holding court at the big round table by the window. He was sitting in the middle of the table, a rumbling, purring centerpiece surrounded by doting admirers. It was no wonder her cat was content. Hannah counted no less than five hands petting him. As she stood there watching, she heard other terms of endearment, sweety love, magnificent fellow, and cuddlewuddles among them. Everyone at the table seemed to be worshipping at the throne of Moishe, and Moishe took it as his due. He was squinting in pleasure and wearing the biggest kitty smile Hannah had ever seen.

“Pushover,” Hannah murmured as she passed by the table, but she wasn’t at all upset. Moishe was a glutton for affection and it was clear that he was having a wonderful time. As long as the kitty fans kept coming in and the fawning continued unabated, bring-your-pet-to-work week might not be the nightmare she’d envisioned this morning.

Lisa was just passing out the box lunches that Sally had sent for the crew and cast when the bell on the front door tinkled and Hannah looked up to see Dean Lawrence. Lynne was with him, holding his arm, and her college friend looked fabulous in a fifties-style sweater dress. Her hair was fashioned in a pageboy style and Hannah came close to hearing the strains of “Love Me Tender,” or “Hound Dog” from a long-dead Elvis as she looked at the sort of girl he would have admired.

“Smell,” Lynne said, holding out her wrist, inside up, the way they used to do when they’d gone shopping and sampled everything at the perfume counter. “Bet you ten bucks you don’t know this one.”

Hannah sniffed and then she laughed. “You lose. It’s Evening in Paris and my grandmother used to wear it.”

“She’s absolutely amazing,” Lynne explained to Dean. “I think her sense of smell is almost as well developed as her taste buds. That’s why she’s such a good cook. All she has to do is smell something and taste it, and she knows what’s in it.”

“Well, I don’t know what’s in that cheesecake, but it’s great!” Dean said, kissing the air next to Hannah’s cheek, and then giving her a little squeeze around the waist. “I knew it would be good just looking at it, but I didn’t think it would be that good.”

“He said it was the best he ever tasted,” Lynne told Hannah.

“That’s right. I’ll want two every day, one in the morning and one right after lunch. Can you do that?”

“Absolutely.”

“There’s something else.” Dean leaned closer and looked directly into her eyes. “It’s a bit of a challenge.”

The warning bells in Hannah’s head began to clang. Whenever something was described as a challenge, it was usually impossible to achieve.

“I want to serve cherry cheesecake at the premiere. The only problem is, we’re doing champagne and finger food. You know what finger food is, don’t you, Lovey?”

“Of course,” Hannah said stifling the urge to plant him a facer, a Regency English term that she’d picked up while catering coffee and cookies at the Lake Eden Regency Romance Club. Planting him a facer meant hitting him in the face and that’s what Hannah felt like doing. In addition to his casual touches that bordered on the intimate, which she didn’t appreciate, Dean was being very condescending. Just because she lived in a small town didn’t mean that she was totally unsophisticated.

“Do you think you can figure out a way to make mini cherry cheesecakes so we can put them on a tray and serve them as appetizers?”

“Maybe,” Hannah said, not at all sure she could do it, but willing to try. “It can’t be my cherry cheesecake made smaller, though.”

“Why not?”

“It won’t work. It all has to do with specific gravity.” When Dean looked at her blankly, Hannah began to smile. She’d snow him with gobbledygook until his eyes glazed over to get even for implying that she was unsophisticated.

“The cheesecake I baked for you is enclosed in a metal springform, with a lubricated underlay for the carrier ingredients. It’s not baked in the traditional slow oven and that means it needs to solidify without granulating. Smaller containers would counter these parameters, and I doubt that experimenting with different media would yield positive results.”

“Oh.”

Dean’s eyes were sufficiently glassy and Hannah decided it was time to back off. “Let’s just say that the cheesecake I make for you is special. If I changed the size, I’d have to change the whole recipe.”

“I can understand that. I really don’t want to share my cheesecake with the general public anyway. Go ahead and bake another kind.”

“I’ll have something for you to test in a couple of days,” Hannah promised, hoping that she hadn’t bitten off more than she could chew. “If it works out, maybe you can use it in the cocktail scene. That would be a good tie-in with the movie, wouldn’t it?”

“In the…yes! Yes, it would! The audience would see those little beauties being passed around by the waitresses. And then, when they came out to the lobby after the movie, they’d get to actually taste them! That’s a wonderful idea. I’m so glad I thought of it!”

Oh brother! Hannah mouthed as Dean walked away. He’d taken her idea and claimed it as his own in less than twenty seconds. That had to be some sort of a record, even for a director with an ego as big as a double-wide pole barn.

MOCK TURTLE COOKIES

Do Not Preheat Oven—Dough Must Chill Before Baking

1½ sticks chilled butter ( ¾ cup)

2 cups flour

¾ cup powdered (confectioner’s) sugar

½ teaspoon salt

½ cup chocolate chips (I used Ghirardelli’s semi-sweet)

1 egg, beaten

approximately 3 dozen Kraft Caramels (the soft kind that’s individually wrapped—they’re about a half-inch square)

Cut the butter into 12 pieces and place them in a work bowl. With two forks, mix in the flour, powdered sugar, and salt. Continue mixing until the dough is crumbly.

Hannah’s Note: You can also do this in a food processor with the steel blade the same way you’d mix piecrust. It’s a lot easier that way.

Melt the chocolate chips in a small microwave-safe bowl (I use a glass measuring cup) for 40 seconds on HIGH. Stir them to see if they’re melted. (Chocolate chips may maintain their shape until they’re stirred.) If they’re not melted, microwave them in 20-second intervals until they are.

Add the melted chips to the dough mixture. Stir (or process, if you’ve used a food processor) until the chocolate is mixed in and the crumbly dough is a uniform color. Beat the egg in a small cup or bowl and add it to the work bowl. Mix it in (or process with the steel blade) until a soft, piecrust-type dough results.

Divide the dough into four equal parts. Tear off four pieces of wax paper about a foot and a half long. You’ll use these to hold your dough when you roll it out. Turn a piece of wax paper so that the long side faces you and place one piece of dough in the center. Using your hands, roll the dough into a log that’s approximately 12 inches long and 3?4 inch thick. Do the same for the three remaining pieces of dough.

Wrap the rolls in the wax paper you used to roll them and put them into a freezer bag. Freeze them for an hour or two until firm. (Overnight is fine, too.)

When you’re ready to bake, take out the dough and let it warm up on the counter for fifteen minutes. Then preheat the oven to 325 degrees F., rack in the middle position.

Unwrap a roll of dough and cut it into ¾ inch pieces with a sharp knife. Place the pieces cut side down on a greased, or parchment-covered cookie sheet, 12 pieces to a standard-sized sheet.

Unwrap 6 caramels and cut them in half. I find this is easiest if you dip the blades of your kitchen scissors in water and then cut the caramels with the scissors.

Press a half caramel into the center of each chocolate cookie. Be careful not to press it all the way to the bottom. (If the dough is still too cold to press in the caramels, let it warm up a bit more and try again.) Make sure your caramels are surrounded by cookie dough and won’t melt over the sides of the cookies when they bake.

Bake each pan of cookies at 325 degrees F., for approximately 15 minutes, or until firm to the touch. Let the cookies cool for a minute or two on the pan and then remove them to a wire rack to complete cooling.

When all the cookies are baked and cooled, spread foil or waxed paper under the wire rack containing the cookies and prepare to glaze them. (I use extra-wide foil because it’s easy to crimp up the edges and make it into a disposable drip pan.)

Chocolate Glaze:

1/3 cup water

1/3 cup light corn syrup (I used Karo)

1 cup white (granulated) sugar

11/3 cup milk chocolate chips (8 ounces—I used Ghirardelli’s)

Approximately 6 dozen pecan halves

Measure out the chips and put them in a small bowl so they’re ready to add when it’s time.

In a saucepan, combine the water, corn syrup, and white sugar. Place the saucepan on high heat, and STIRRING CONSTANTLY, bring the contents to a boil. Boil for 15 seconds, still STIRRING CONSTANTLY, and pull it off the heat.

Dump in the chips, all at once, and poke them down until almost all of them are covered by the hot syrup mixture. Let the saucepan sit on a cold burner (or on a pad on the counter) for 2½ minutes.

Gently stir the mixture with a whisk (a fork will also work) until it’s almost completely smooth. Be careful not to whisk in air, or you’ll get bubbles.

Set the glaze down on a potholder next to your cookies. Spoon a little over the top of each cookie and let it drizzle down the sides. (You can also pour it over the cookies, but that’s a little harder to do.) When you’re all through, top each cookie with a pecan half, making sure the nut sticks to the chocolate glaze.

Leave the cookies on the wire rack until the glaze has hardened. This will take approximately 30 minutes. Then eat and enjoy!

Lisa’s Note: When I’m in a hurry and don’t have time to glaze the cookies, I just sprinkle them with a little powdered sugar, serve them with chocolate ice cream, and call it a day.

Hannah’s Note: Norman says to warn any friends with temporary fillings that the caramels in the center of these cookies are chewy.

Another Note: You can store these cookies in a box lined with wax paper in the refrigerator, but take them out at least thirty minutes before you serve them so that the caramel in the center will soften and not break a tooth!

Yield: Approximately 6 dozen very tasty cookies.

Chapter
Eleven

Hannah checked the list of names that Sally had sent along with the box lunches. It was one-thirty, and everyone had been served with the exception of Ross, Burke Anson, and Dean’s chauffeur, Connor. Hannah was about to take the remaining lunches back to the walk-in cooler in the kitchen when Ross came in with Burke.

“Sorry we’re late,” Ross said, coming around the counter to give her a hug, and then standing there with his arm around her shoulders. “Burke and I got hung up on a line rewrite for the scene we’re shooting this afternoon.”

“Line rewrite?” Hannah asked, picking up on the phrase. She thought she knew what it meant, but she wasn’t absolutely certain.

“Small changes,” Ross explained, “that don’t affect the staging of the scene, or the basic motivation. Burke thought Jody should stammer slightly whenever Amy brought up their father.”

“As a clue that Jody killed him?”

“Right. I mean, we’re not going to hit them over the head with it, just give a little suggestion of a stammer. Amy’s not going to react right then, but later she’ll remember and it’ll be another almost subliminal indication for her to add to the mix.”

“I’ll go tell Lynne and Erica what we decided,” Burke said, taking his lunch and heading over to the table where Lynne was sitting with Erica James and her mother. Jeanette didn’t look happy. Was the strain of corralling her daughter too much for her to handle? Then Hannah noticed someone who looked even unhappier than Jeanette James, and she experienced a jolt of surprise. Norman was positively glaring at Ross. Was it because Ross had his arm around her shoulders? Or was there another reason?

“Uh-oh,” Ross said and dropped his arm. “The town dentist looks less than friendly right now. I didn’t know he was the jealous type.”

“He isn’t. Not usually.”

“Maybe I’d better take my lunch and go, before he decides to botch up my leading man’s caps.”

Hannah shot him a sharp look. “Norman would never do that! He’s a professional.”

“Just kidding,” Ross said, but he didn’t give her another hug before he walked away to take a chair at Dean’s table.

Next in the door was Connor. Hannah knew it was Connor without being introduced because he wore a black chauffeur’s uniform. The handsome silver-haired man stepped up to the counter and flashed Hannah a friendly smile.

“Hi, Connor,” Hannah said, before he could introduce himself. “I’m Hannah and here’s your lunch.”

“Nice to meet you, Hannah. I’ve heard so much about you.”

Connor seemed like a nice man, Hannah thought, as he took the box containing his lunch. He was just turning to leave the counter when Dean rushed up to intercept him.

“Connor!” the director stood directly in front of him, blocking his way. “Did you get a signed release from that Henderson woman so we can use the park?”

“No, Mr. Lawrence. I did my best to convince her, but she refused to sign.”

Dean’s eyes hardened into slits and Hannah could tell he didn’t like being denied. “Even after you offered her my incentive?”

“Yes, Mr. Lawrence.”

“Cranky old biddy!” Dean muttered. “All right then, I’ll just have to raise the stakes. Do it in increments of a hundred until she signs on the dotted line.”

Connor nodded and Hannah suspected he’d done this sort of work before. “Yes, Mr. Lawrence. I’ll need to know the ceiling.”

“Five grand. Six is a deal breaker. If we have to, we can always move to another location. Remind her that we don’t really need her cooperation. The mayor’s already given us the go ahead.”

“Is that true, sir?” Connor looked uncertain. “I was under the impression that she controlled the land and its use until her death.”

“She does, but I wouldn’t expect a woman who’s lived on a farm all her life to know the fine points of law. And if it comes down to the wire, who knows? Some of these local yokels who’ve got a part in that scene might just take things into their own hands. All we have to do is tell them they can’t be in the movie because the Henderson woman won’t give us permission to use the park.”

Hannah did all she could do not to gasp as Dean’s words sank in and she realized what he meant. She didn’t think he was seriously considering doing away with Winnie Henderson, but he was a callous person to even joke about it!

“Try to buy her cooperation for three,” Dean went on. “It’s probably more money than she’s seen in her whole life. If you can manage that, there’ll be a little extra something in your paycheck this week.”

“Thank you, Mr. Lawrence.” Connor stood there waiting for further instructions.

“Go do it now. You can eat your lunch later. And don’t be late for your scene.”

“No, Mr. Lawrence.”

Connor turned to go, but Dean grabbed his arm. “Did you get the Tattingers?”

Hannah tried not to react as she recognized the name of the famous champagne. She’d tasted it once at an upscale party and actually priced it out at the mall. Since it sold for more than her car payment, she hadn’t purchased a bottle.

“Yes, Mr. Lawrence, two bottles. They’re in your office.”

“Refrigerated?”

“Naturally, sir.”

“Good man, Connor. Where did you have to go to find it?”

“A little place called the Wine Cave at the Tri-County Mall.”

“Where’s that?”

“About forty minutes from here, sir.”

“Very good. You’ve been a busy little beaver, Connor. Remind me to give you some time off when we finish up here. And if there’s any champagne left, I’ll recork it and save it for you.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, Mr. Lawrence.” Connor waited until his employer had gone back to his place at the table, and then he turned to leave.

“Wait a second, Connor,” Hannah called him back.

“Yes, Ma’am?”

“It’s Hannah. You don’t have to Ma’am me. Since you’re working through lunch, would you like a cup of coffee to go?”

“Yes, I would. Thank you very much.”

Hannah filled the largest Styrofoam cup she had and clamped on a lid. “Here you go, the best cup of Swedish Plasma in the country.”

“Thanks,” Connor said with a chuckle, but he quickly sobered. “I know you heard what Mr. Lawrence said to me and I just want you to know that I like Mrs. Henderson, and there’s no way I’m going to cheat her, even if it means disappointing Mr. Lawrence.”

“You’re a nice man, Connor. And it can’t be easy to be nice when you work for Mr. Lawrence.”

Connor smiled, but he didn’t say a word and Hannah gave him points for that. And then, just because Connor was a nice man who worked for a condescending unfeeling director who was the total opposite of nice, she stuck her foot in firmly where it didn’t belong. “If you have any trouble convincing Winnie to sign that release form, come and get me. I know her and maybe I can help.”

“Mini cherry cheesecakes?” Lisa asked, repeating what Hannah had just told her.

“That’s right. He said he needs something that can be passed around on a tray at the premiere. They’re doing all finger food.”

“So we’ve got a while to come up with a recipe?”

Hannah shook her head. “All we have is two days.”

“But they won’t have the premiere until the movie’s all finished, and edited, and whatever else they do to it.”

“True, but I stuck my big foot in it and that’s why we have a time crunch. I suggested that they use the mini cherry cheesecakes in the cocktail scene and then there’d be a tie-in with the premiere.”

“That’s a great idea! So Mr. Lawrence must have liked it a lot if he’s going to do it.”

“Oh, he loved it,” Hannah said, giving a wry grin. “He loved it so much he stole it.”

“Stole it? What do you mean?”

“By the time we were finished talking, he was saying that it was his idea.”

“That figures,” Lisa said, shaking her head. “He isn’t the type to give anyone else credit. I knew he wasn’t a nice person five minutes after he sat down at the table.”

“How did you know that?”

“I was going around with the coffee carafe and I stopped at his table. I asked if he wanted a refill and he held out his cup. That’s all he did, he just held up his cup. He kept right on talking to Mr. Barton and let me give him a refill. And after I did, he just put his cup down in front of him. He didn’t even bother to look up or say thank you! Everyone else at the table did, but not him. He thinks he’s too big for his own britches!”

Hannah couldn’t help it, she laughed. The old-fashioned phrase sounded strange coming from a woman who’d just turned twenty. “You sound like your grandma,” she said.

“I know. I’ve always loved that saying. It makes me think of a smart-mouthed guy running around without pants.”

“Lisa!” Hannah was slightly shocked. Her normally very proper and slightly naïve partner had loosened up a lot now that she was married.

“Well, it does. Not that I’d like to see Mr. Lawrence that way!” A little color climbed up Lisa’s cheeks and Hannah knew she was about to change the subject to something less embarrassing. “So we need those mini cheesecakes by Wednesday?”

“That’s right. Do you have any ideas?”

Lisa looked thoughtful for a moment. “Let me work on it, Hannah. I’ve seen something like that, and I think my mother used to make them. I’ll look through her recipe file and if I don’t find it there, I’ll ask Dad if he remembers.”

“Do you think he might?” Hannah asked, hoping that Jack Herman’s memory would come through for them. He’d taken part in an Alzheimer’s study and the “cocktail” of three new drugs he’d tested had helped tremendously.

“Maybe,” Lisa said, shrugging slightly. “And maybe not. We’ll just have to wait and see. I hope he does, because it makes him so happy when he remembers something.”

As Lisa refilled the carafe with hot water and stocked up on tea bags for the tea drinkers who wanted a second cup, Hannah thought about what she’d said. The comment was typical of her kind-hearted partner who saw life’s cookie jar half full instead of half empty. Of course Lisa wanted to track down the recipe, but that was less important than making her father happy.

“Hannah?”

Hannah turned from the kitchen counter, where she was restocking one of the serving jars, to see Norman standing just inside the swinging door.

“Do you have a minute?” he asked.

“That’s exactly what I’ve got, one minute. We’re out of cookies and Lisa’s waiting for these. Just let me carry them out to her and I’ll have a lot more than one minute.”

“I’ll help,” Norman said, picking up two of the jars, one containing Molasses Crackles, and the other filled with Boggles. Hannah grabbed the jar with Lisa’s White Chocolate Supremes, and the one filled with Cinnamon Crisps, and off they went to the coffee shop.

With both of them carrying, it took only three trips to deliver the cookies. When they came back to the kitchen for the final time, Hannah poured them both a cup of coffee from the kitchen pot, and they sat down on stools at the work island.

“I don’t like Dean Lawrence,” Norman said out of the blue.

“Neither do I. He’s the type of person that makes me appreciate exposure at the city gates.”

Norman, who’d looked very serious up to that point, started to laugh. “He must have really gotten to you.”

“He did.”

“How?”

Hannah ticked the reasons off on her fingers. “He’s arrogant, condescending, and callous. He thinks Winnie Henderson is dumb just because she lives on a farm, and he called the people who live in Lake Eden local yokels. He steals other people’s ideas, he has no respect for anyone, and to top it off, he thinks he’s irresistible to women!”

“But other than that, you like him okay?”

Hannah’s jaw dropped open and then she giggled, something she hadn’t done since seventh grade. Norman was being sarcastic and she’d fallen for it. “You got me, Norman.”

“If only I did!” Norman sounded very serious and Hannah’s giggles stopped abruptly. “That’s one of the reasons I followed you into the kitchen. I need to talk to you in private.”

Hannah’s early warning system activated. If Ross was right and Norman was jealous, that jealousy might prod him into another declaration. “You’re not going to ask me to marry you again, are you?”

“Not today. My ego’s had all it can take for the month. This is something different.”

Hannah discovered she’d been holding her breath without realizing it and she exhaled quickly. “What is it, Norman?”

“Remember that letter you found in Lucy Richards’s desk? The one I said I’d let you read if I ever asked you to marry me?”

Hannah started holding her breath again and this time it was deliberate. Of course she remembered the letter! It had come from the Seattle Police Department and it had just about killed her not to open it. After she’d handed it over, still tightly sealed, Norman had told her it held information about him that might just kill his mother if it were to be made public. And while this information might not put him out of business in Lake Eden, it would certainly change his patients’ opinion of him.

“You remember the letter, don’t you, Hannah?” Norman prompted.

“Yes. Yes, I do,” Hannah managed to say, and a tingle of apprehension ran through her. Was Norman going to tell her his secret at long last?

“Well I didn’t let you read the letter before I proposed. And I need to know if that’s why you turned me down.”

“No,” Hannah said, quite honestly. “The letter had nothing to do with my decision. I just chose not to choose right then. I explained all that down at the café.”

“Okay, I just had to check. It was really bothering me. I figured if that letter was the only thing standing between fried egg sandwiches at my bachelor kitchen table and happily ever after with you, I’d bite the bullet and publish the darned thing in the Lake Eden Journal.”

Hannah’s eyes widened. “But you said it would just about kill your mother!”

“I didn’t mean it literally. It would embarrass her a lot, but I’m pretty sure she’d get over it eventually.”

“You’d take a chance like that?”

“Yes, if you’d marry me.”

Hannah was silent for a long moment. She knew Norman adored his mother, but he must love her even more. She was tempted, sorely tempted to say yes, but she couldn’t.

“Hannah? Should I take that letter to Rod at the paper? I really will do it, you know.”

“I know. And that’s very sweet, but I can’t marry you.” Hannah saw Norman’s face fall and she softened her response, “…at least not yet.”

Chapter
Twelve

“Ouch!” Hannah yelped, staring down at her pet in surprise. Moishe’s ears were back and his fur was beginning to bristle. She might have followed her earlier ouch with something a bit more colorful, but it was Tuesday, Moishe was filming his second scene in Crisis in Cherrywood, and she was sitting in a pew at Holy Redeemer Lutheran Church. Even though Moishe’s claws were needle sharp and her thighs stung from the punctures, swearing would not have been appropriate.

“He’s nervous,” Norman said, collecting Moishe from his perch on Hannah’s lap. “I’ll take him outside and walk him around a little. Just come and get me when they’re ready for him.”

At first Hannah thought Norman had something in his eye, because he winked at her several times. She was about to ask him what was wrong when she spotted the cause for Norman’s wink, her feline’s anxiety, and the little puncture marks Moishe’s claws had left on her denim clad legs. Delores was approaching, striding hurriedly up the center aisle, and not even the lure of Hollywood fame would keep her cat docile when he caught sight of the person at the top of his Least Favorite list.

“Hello, Mother,” she said, giving Norman the high sign to skedaddle, and then patting the pew beside her. “Have a seat.”

“Thank you, dear. I know I’m early, but I wanted to see Moishe’s scene. I missed out yesterday.”

Now this is a fine pickle, Hannah thought, using her father’s term to describe a dilemma. She had to think of some way to get her mother as far away from Moishe as possible.

“I’d love to have you watch,” Hannah said, clutching onto the first excuse that occurred to her, “but Tracey’s going to be disappointed.”

“What do you mean? Andrea told me that Tracey’s first scene isn’t being filmed until later tomorrow.”

“That’s true, but they’re working on her hair and makeup right now down at the Cut ’n Curl. And after that, she’s being fitted for her costumes. I just naturally assumed that you’d want to be there, especially since Bill’s in Miami and Andrea’s dealing with all these stage mother things alone.”

“You’re absolutely right! Thank you for telling me, dear.” Delores rose to her feet with a grateful smile. “Of course she’d never say anything, but with Bill gone and all, she’s bound to want someone with her…not to mention how much better Tracey would feel with Grandma there.”

Hannah watched her mother rush out and she gave a huge sigh of relief. She was free at last, but she’d have to pay the price. Once Andrea figured out what had brought Delores descending on them like a cloud of locusts, she’d owe her sister a whole batch of cookies and then some!

“Incredible!” Clark said, turning to Hannah with a smile. “Just look at that. He’s giving me his best profile.”

Hannah smiled and nodded. She wasn’t sure what else to do. It was true that Moishe was being amazingly cooperative, holding the poses that Dean called for, and not moving until he said that it was a wrap.

“Only one more to go,” Dean said, motioning to Erica, who was waiting in the front pew. “Hannah’s going to put him in your lap. When she’s out of the scene, pick him up in your arms and take him with you when you walk up to the coffin to view your father. Stand there for a minute looking sad, and then go back and sit down.”

Hannah placed Moishe on Erica’s lap and waited for the fireworks to start. Moishe didn’t like being held by people he didn’t know and she hoped the movie company had plenty of insurance. But when Erica picked Moishe up and cuddled him to her chest, something Hannah was sure would earn her a royal slashing with both front and back claws, her cat surprised her so much she gasped out loud.

Instead of lashing out, Moishe gave Erica his best kitty smile, the one where his eyes turned to slits and his cheeks rounded out. And then he let her lug him up to the casket, held in a position that Hannah knew couldn’t possibly be comfortable. When she lifted him up so that he could see inside, Moishe licked her cheek, just as if he knew he was supposed to comfort her. Was her cat an actor? Most assuredly! If Moishe hadn’t been dreaming dreams of stardom, he would have torn the expensive black silk suit Erica was wearing to shreds.

“I’ve got a lead, Hannah!” Lisa rushed up to her the moment Hannah came back into The Cookie Jar.

“That’s nice,” Hannah said, plunking Moishe down on one of the tables and tethering his leash to the leg. “A lead on what?”

“The mini cherry cheesecake appetizers. Dad didn’t recall them when I asked him last night, but this morning he remembered that Mom got the recipe from a neighbor, Mary Hutchinson. She lived across the street from us at the end of the block. But Mary and Marv moved to Iowa and I don’t have a forwarding address. Who do you think might…?” Lisa stopped speaking in midthought and began to smile. “Andrea!”

“Yes, Andrea might know. She’s sold a lot of houses in Lake Eden and I’m sure the seller has to leave a forwarding address.”

“And we can ask her, because she’s here right now!”

Lisa motioned toward the door and Hannah turned to see her sister opening it. Andrea looked about as far from happy as anyone could get and for a brief moment, Hannah was puzzled. Then she remembered sending their mother to the Cut ’n Curl to “advise” Andrea on Tracey’s makeup and costumes. It had taken less than an hour, but the chickens had come home to roost. Her stylish sister had a frown on her face that looked every bit as rugged as the topography of the Pyrenees. Andrea was loaded for bear and Hannah harbored the unfortunate suspicion that she was Ursa Major.

“Well…all right,” Andrea conceded, choosing another of the chocolate truffles Hannah had stashed in the walk-in cooler for precisely this type of emergency. “I guess I forgive you, but it was a dirty trick fobbing Mother off on me that way.”

“I know. It’s just that I don’t like pain and Moishe was grating the skin on my legs like lemon peel.”

“That sounds painful,” Lisa said, giving Hannah her next line.

“It was. And I figured maybe Mother would relieve you and you could come over and see Moishe act.”

“I just came from the church and Reverend Knudson told me you’d already left. How did Moishe do?”

“He’s a natural born actor, at least that’s what Dean called him.”

“I figured he would be. He’s always posing, even when nobody has a camera.”

Lisa looked at Hannah and wiggled her eyebrows. Hannah wiggled back in a silent signal that Andrea was calm enough to answer their question.

“We need some information, Andrea,” Hannah told her. “And you’re the only one who can help us.”

“I am?”

“That’s right. Do you remember who sold the Hutchinson house, kitty-corner from Lisa’s old house?”

“I sold it. It was my first sale as a real estate professional.”

“Wonderful!” Lisa gave a relieved smile. “Do you happen to know where the Hutchinsons moved?”

“Someplace in Iowa. Do you need the street address?”

“Yes,” Hannah said. “Mary has a recipe for mini cherry cheesecakes and we need it for the cocktail scene in the movie.”

“Okay. Just hold on a second and I’ll get it for you.”

To Hannah’s surprise, Andrea took out her cell phone and punched in some numbers. While she was waiting, she took out her pen and her leather-bound notebook and turned to a blank page.

“I’m connected. Hold on,” she said to Lisa and Hannah, and then she punched in more information on the phone keypad. There was another wait and then Andrea started to write on the paper. When she was finished, she punched another couple of numbers and switched off the phone, dropped it back in her purse, and handed the page to Lisa. “Here you go. I got the phone number, too.”

“How?” Hannah asked, staring at her sister in amazement. “You didn’t say a word.”

“That’s because I wasn’t talking to a person. I didn’t feel like running back out to the car to get my laptop, so I used my cell phone to connect to the state real estate board’s central computer. That’s where all the information is stored.”

“You can do that?”

“Of course. You really ought to keep up with things, Hannah. Technology’s great and you’re still stuck in the Dark Ages!”

“Right,” Hannah said, looking around her and realizing that her sister had a point. All but one table was filled with afternoon coffee drinkers and at least three out of five people were talking on a cell phone. She counted four laptop computers, and only one person was making notes with a pen.

“At least get a computer. Everybody’s got a computer. They make life a lot easier.”

“Maybe,” Hannah said. “I can see where you need one, but I’m still not sure about me. I’ll make you a promise, though.”

“Okay. What?”

“The day that Mother gets a computer, I’ll get one too.”

“Oh, sure. Like that’s going to happen!” Andrea gave a short, little laugh, and then she turned to Lisa. “Go and call Mary now.”

“But it’s time for me to go around with the coffee carafe.”

“I’ll do it for you,” Andrea volunteered. “Go ahead and make the call. And tell Mary hi from me.”

Hannah tried not to show how surprised she was as Andrea got up to don an apron. Her sister had never been this eager to wait on tables before. “You don’t have to, you know. I can…”

“No, I want to,” Andrea insisted, picking up the coffee carafe and bending close so that only Hannah would hear. “I want to find out if that trick you’re always talking about really works.”

For a moment, Hannah was puzzled, but then she figured it out. “You’re talking about the invisible caterer trick? The one where people keep right on talking, even if it’s really private, just as if you’re not right there filling up their coffee cups?”

“Yes. Then I’ll have some really juicy movie gossip to tell Bill when he calls tonight.”

Hannah was amused as Andrea went off to refill coffee cups and gather gossip. She got herself another cup of coffee and sat behind the counter trying to relax. She’d been nervous all day, even though Moishe had been on his best behavior and his scenes had gone off perfectly. It wasn’t her cat she was worried about. It was Mike and Norman. And Ross. She thought about Ross, wondering what effect a romance with him would have on the existing triangle she shared with Mike and Norman. Would one more person turn it into a square? Or perhaps a box? It was certainly true that she’d boxed herself in by dating three men!

That brought up another image and Hannah frowned slightly. She’d seen the legendary French mime, Marcel Marceau, perform his routine of a person inside a glass box. Now that her triangle had changed into a box, was she the person inside, trapped there until she chose the right man for her husband?

Chapter
Thirteen

Lisa emerged from the kitchen less than ten minutes later. She was waving a piece of paper and wearing the broadest smile Hannah had ever seen.

“You got it?” Hannah guessed, already knowing the answer.

“You bet I got it!” Lisa announced sliding into her chair. “These are just perfect, and they’re hardly any work at all. They’re made in cupcake papers and they use store-bought vanilla wafers and cherry pie filling!”

Hannah took the paper and glanced down at the title, Jane’s Mini Cherry Cheesecakes. “Who’s Jane? I thought you got this recipe from Mary Hutchinson.”

“I did, but she got it from her cousin Jane. What do you think of it?”

Hannah read through one of the easiest and cleverest recipes she’d ever seen. Twenty-four muffin tins were lined with cupcake papers and a vanilla wafer was placed in the bottom. The cheesecake batter was mixed, spooned in on top of the vanilla wafer, and then they were baked. When the mini cheesecakes were cool, they were topped off with three cherries from the can of pie filling and chilled for at least four hours before serving. “That’s certainly easy. But are they good?”

“Mary says they’re wonderful and everybody always asks her to bring them to parties. The really neat thing is the cherry pie filling.”

“Why’s that?” Hannah asked, feeling a bit like the straight man in a two-man comedy routine.

“You need three cherries for each little cheesecake and there are exactly seventy-two cherries in a can of pie filling. That means it always comes out even.”

“Really?”

“That’s what Mary says and she’s been making them for a long time. I want to try them now, Hannah. Is that okay?”

“It’s fine, but how about the cherry pie filling? We don’t have any.”

“I already called Florence and she said she’d let me in the back door of the Red Owl. She’s doing inventory.”

Hannah nodded and Lisa was off in a flash, fairly racing for the kitchen door. When her young partner got enthusiastic about something, she didn’t let anything stand in her way. Hannah knew Herb had figured that out early in his relationship with Lisa. When Lisa had made up her mind she wanted to date him, Herb had found himself asking her out. And when Lisa had decided she wanted to marry him, Herb had found himself proposing. Hannah had a feeling their whole marriage would be that way. And she was just as certain that Herb wouldn’t mind one bit.

The front door to The Cookie Jar opened and a handsome young man walked in. He was wearing casual clothes, but they fit him perfectly and Hannah had the feeling that they were expensive. She assumed that he was someone from the movie crew she hadn’t met and gave him a smile of welcome.

“Hi, Hannah!” the man greeted her. And then he read the blank expression on her face and laughed. “You don’t recognize me?”

Hannah’s mind churned as fast as a master butter-maker’s tub gone berserk. It was no use. She had no idea who the young man was. She was about to shake her head and admit it when he pointed to the discrete gold stud in one earlobe.

“P. K.?” Hannah guessed, remembering the night engineer from KCOW Television who’d let them watch outtakes from the Hartland Flour Bakeoff.

“It’s me. When they made me a feature reporter, I ditched the ponytail and the beard.”

“You kept the earring,” Hannah commented.

“Yes, but I had to tone it down a little. The diamond was too flashy for the camera. This one’s brushed gold.”

Hannah got P. K. settled with a couple of cookies and a mug of coffee and then she sat down across the table from him. “So…what brings you here?”

“Burke Anson. KCOW sent me out to interview him for my segment of Night News at Ten. I do the entertainment news.”

“Good for you! But I thought you wanted to direct.”

“I do. And I’ll get there eventually, now that I’m moving up the ladder. Burke said I could catch him here between scenes. He wants to do the interview at The Cookie Jar if that’s all right with you.”

“Here?” Hannah was surprised. “Why not on the set?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he thought it would be too distracting. He said to meet him here and since I’m the one asking and not the other way around, he gets to call the shots.”

“Right.” Hannah wondered why she didn’t get to call the shots, especially since Burke wanted to use The Cookie Jar for a backdrop without even asking her.

“We’ll only use a small corner of the coffee shop, and I’ll make sure to mention where we are,” P. K. said, practically reading her mind. “It’ll be good advertising for your business. And Dee-Dee will do it, too. You know how she gives teasers before the commercials?”

“You mean when she announces what’s coming up next?”

“Exactly.” P. K. cleared his throat and went into a credible imitation of Dee-Dee Hughes, co-anchor of Night News. Stay tuned for an exclusive interview with Burke Anson at The Cookie Jar in Lake Eden, right after these words from our sponsors.”

Hannah laughed. P. K. had mastered Dee-Dee’s voice perfectly. “Do you need me to move tables or anything?”

“No, my cameraman and I can take care of that when Burke gets here. What’s your take on him anyway?”

“Burke?” Hannah asked, stalling for time. She wasn’t about to give P. K. any candid comments he could use on his segment.

“Yeah, Burke. What do you think of him?”

“I really don’t know him that well,” Hannah said diplomatically and also truthfully. “He’s certainly a handsome man.”

“That’s what my girlfriend says.”

“And I heard that he was a good actor.”

“I heard that, too. But I also heard that he’s not exactly buddy-buddy with Dean Lawrence.”

“I haven’t heard anything about that,” Hannah said, also truthfully.

“Nothing?”

“Nothing,” Hannah insisted, shaking her head.

“And you’d tell me if you’d heard?” Hannah shook her head again and P. K. laughed. “I didn’t think so. You’re a reporter’s nightmare, Hannah. You don’t gossip.”

“I try not to,” Hannah said. “I wouldn’t be in business long if I repeated everything I heard.”

As if on cue, Andrea came rushing over with her coffee carafe. “Guess what I just heard! Sophie, she’s the wardrobe mistress, told me that…”

“Tracey’s costumes were just beautiful,” Hannah interrupted what she feared was about to be a juicy tidbit. “I know. She told me this morning. Here’s an old friend you probably won’t recognize, Andrea. It’s…”

Now it was Andrea’s turn to interrupt, “P. K! It’s really good to see you again.”

“How did you recognize him when I didn’t?” Hannah wanted to know.

“The KCOW logo on his company pin. I noticed it that night we watched the outtakes of the Hartland Flour Bakeoff. P. K.’s pin has a purple O and everybody else’s O is blue.”

“You’re right,” P. K. sounded pleased. “They gave us pins for Christmas two years ago and somebody goofed on this one. They wanted to send it back and get another one for me, but I said I wanted it because it was different.”

Hannah stared at the tiny logo pin and shook her head in disbelief. It was so small, she hadn’t even seen it. Andrea had not only seen the pin, she’d also noticed that the color on one of the letters was incorrect. Her sister had amazing powers of observation when it came to clothing and fashion.

“So what are you doing now, P. K.?” Andrea sat down in the chair next to Hannah’s.

“I’m the entertainment reporter on Night News at Ten.”

“I see,” Andrea said, flashing Hannah a grateful look. “I haven’t watched the news for a while. I’ll have to tune in.”

“So how do you like having a movie filmed practically in your backyard?”

Andrea laughed. “It’s not even close to my backyard, but it’s in our mother’s store. They’re using Granny’s Attic for a set.”

“Really?” P. K. pulled out a notebook and made a note. “I heard that they were casting some locals. Did anyone you know get a part?”

“We know everyone who got a part!” Hannah couldn’t resist saying. “This is Lake Eden. It’s not that big.”

P. K. looked a little sheepish. “True. How about the big parts? Do you know the little girl who was cast?”

Andrea looked at Hannah, and Hannah looked right back. There was a breathless moment where Hannah waited for Andrea to say something, and Andrea waited for Hannah to say something. The silence stretched out for several heartbeats and then they both burst out laughing.

“What’s so funny?”

“My daughter!” Andrea said.

“My niece,” Hannah replied.

And then both of them started to talk at once, telling P. K. about how he should interview Tracey, and how she was bound to be famous when Crisis in Cherrywood hit the theaters.

“Not at all,” Burke replied, looking straight into the camera as he responded to P. K.’s question about their exhausting shooting schedule and whether it was taking a toll on the quality of the production. “Our director, Mr. Dean Lawrence, won’t let us get by with anything less than our best performance.”

Hannah hid a grin. Burke was flattering the Bad Boy director outrageously. So much for the rumor that Burke and Dean didn’t get along! She listened to P. K.’s next question, something about their full-dress rehearsals, but before she could hear Burke’s answer, Andrea summoned her from the kitchen doorway.

“What’s wrong?” Hannah asked when she saw her sister’s expression. Andrea looked panic-stricken.

“P. K. wants to interview me next. I said yes, but now I wish I hadn’t. What am I going to say?”

“He’ll ask you a question. All you have to do is answer it.”

“But what if I don’t know the answer?”

“You’re panicking for no reason and it’s time to buck up. Come on, Andrea. Don’t forget you’re a real estate agent.”

“You’re right,” Andrea said, and she squared her shoulders. “I’m a real estate professional and what I don’t know, I can make up. They taught us how to do that in real estate college.”

“You mean to call something a gourmet kitchen if it’s got a spice rack on the wall? And to say a house is cozy if it’s small and cramped?”

Andrea’s mouth dropped open and then she started to laugh. She laughed so hard, tears rolled down her cheeks. “You really shouldn’t say that, Hannah. You’re making fun of my chosen profession.”

“Well…maybe I am. Just a little. But I’ll bet you’re not nervous anymore.”

“Of course I’m nervous. I’m so nervous, I could…” Andrea stopped speaking and gave her older sister a wide-eyed look. “You’re right. I’m not nervous anymore! How did you do that?”

“You can’t be nervous and amused at the same time. They’re both powerful emotions and one overrides the other. If your sense of humor kicks in, you lose your case of nerves…at least according to the professor who taught the psychology class I took in college.”

“Fascinating,” Andrea said, giving Hannah a probing look. “What else did he say? Are there any other emotions that cancel each other out?”

“There’s another pair that I remember. He said you can’t be angry and amorous at the same time.”

“Amorous?”

“You know,” Hannah said, and then she made little kissing noises.

“Oh, that amorous,” Andrea said, beginning to grin. “Thanks for telling me, but I think I already knew that. It must have been instinctive.”

“You’re probably right,” Hannah said with a laugh. Her psychology professor had insisted that particular phenomenon was the secret of any happy marriage.

“All the same, maybe I’d better put it to the test,” Andrea said with an impish smile. “Bill can try it out on me, right after he gets home from Miami with Ronni Ward.”

“So what do you think?” Lisa asked, presenting Hannah with the tray of Mini Cherry Cheesecakes. “Will Mr. Lawrence like them?”

“They look fantastic, and I think that’s more important than how they taste.”

“Hannah!” Lisa looked positively shocked. “How can you say such a thing?”

“I was thinking about Dean Lawrence, not us. We care how things taste more than how they look.”

“Oh, now I understand. And you’re right about him. He’s a very shallow person. Everything is me, me, me.”

“How so?” Hannah asked, agreeing with her young partner completely but wanting Lisa to enumerate her reasons.

“First of all, he just assumes that he’s irresistible to women.”

“You noticed?”

“I couldn’t help but notice. I told you about refilling his coffee and how he kept right on talking and didn’t even say thank you.”

“I remember.”

“Well, that was better than what happened just a couple of minutes ago when I went around with the coffee carafe again.”

“What happened?”

“He made a pass and I won’t go into detail. Let’s just say he doesn’t know how to keep his hands to himself. I wasn’t expecting it and it startled me so much, I almost poured hot coffee down his collar.”

“Maybe you should have.”

Lisa giggled. “Maybe you’re right. If he ever does it again, I’ll figure out a way to let him know it’s not appreciated. But there’s another thing about him I noticed.”

“What’s that?”

“He believes that appearance is more important than substance. That’s the earmark of a charlatan…or a magician. It’s all an illusion. And it’s all accomplished by misdirected attention. Smoke and mirrors. You know what I mean, right?”

Hannah stared at her partner with new respect. “That sounds right to me. But how do you know that?”

“Herb’s an amateur magician. He says he’s not good enough to take his act public yet, but he’s done a few tricks for me, and I think he’s simply fantastic. He started practicing in high school, but he never showed anyone until he married me.”

It was a new fact about Herb she’d never known, and Hannah added it to the complicated mix that made up her high school classmate. “I had no idea. He really ought to perform at the community center on Halloween.”

“I think so, too. He almost did it last year, but he said he wasn’t quite ready. Maybe this year.”

“Maybe,” Hannah said, taking the lesson she’d just learned to heart. Living in a small town was deceptive. Just when you thought you knew everything about everybody, something came along to knock that theory to smithereens.

JANE’S MINI CHERRY
CHEESECAKES

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F., rack in the center position

2 eight-ounce packages softened cream cheese (room temperature)[***]

¾ cup white (granulated) sugar

2 eggs

1 Tablespoon lemon juice

1 teaspoon vanilla

24 vanilla wafer cookies

24 cupcake liners (48 if you’re like me and you like to use double papers)

1 can cherry pie filling, chilled (21 ounces net weight)

Line two muffin pans (the kind of pan that makes 12 muffins each) with paper cupcake liners. Put one vanilla wafer cookie in the bottom of each cupcake paper, flat side down.

Chill the unopened can of cherry pie filling in the refrigerator while you make the mini cheesecakes.

You can do all of this by hand, but it’s easier with an electric mixer on slow to medium speed:

Mix the softened cream cheese with the white sugar until it’s thoroughly blended. Add the eggs one at a time, beating after each addition. Then mix in the lemon juice and vanilla, and beat until light and fluffy.

Spoon the cheesecake batter into the muffin tins, dividing it as equally as you can. When you’re through, each cupcake paper should be between half and two-thirds full. (They’re going to look skimpy, but they’ll be fine once they’re baked and you put on the cherry topping.)

Bake at 350 degrees F. for 15 to 20 minutes, or until the top has set and has a satin finish. (The center may sink a bit, but that’s okay—the topping will cover that.)

Cool the mini cheesecakes in the pans on wire racks.

When the cheesecakes are cool, open the can of cherry pie filling and place three cherries on top of every mini cheesecake. Divide the cherry juice equally among the 24 mini cheesecakes.

Refrigerate in the muffin tins for at least 4 hours before serving. (Overnight is even better.) Then take them out of the tins, carefully remove the cupcake papers, and place them on a silver platter for an elegant dessert at a finger food party.

Hannah’s Note: I made these with Comstock Dark Cherry Pie Filling and came up 4 cherries short. Lisa’s can of regular cherry pie filling had 72 cherries, 3 for each of her Mini Cherry Cheesecakes.

Hannah’s 2nd Note: If you prefer, you can use fresh fruits glazed with melted jelly instead of the canned cherry pie filling. You can also use any other pie filling you like.

Chapter
Fourteen

Hannah was sitting at the work island in the kitchen of The Cookie Jar, taking a well-deserved break. She’d just finished making Dean Lawrence’s cheesecakes and they were sitting in state in the walk-in cooler, along with the tray of Jane’s Mini Cherry Cheesecakes that Lisa had made. Both types of cherry delectables would be thoroughly chilled and ready for delivery to Dean’s office in the morning. Hannah would perform that duty. There was no way she would let Lisa come into contact with the seasoned Romeo alone in his fancy Winnebago.

A chuckle escaped Hannah’s throat as she thought of what would happen if Lisa delivered the goodies and the Bad Boy Director made another pass at her. There were some in town who might still consider her a blushing bride, but Lisa was far from innocent when it came to dealing with amorous males. According to Hannah’s youngest sister, Michelle, who’d been Lisa’s classmate at Jordan High, one particular basketball player had ended up benched for a week with a black eye after he tried to get fresh with Lisa on a date. No, Hannah’s concern wasn’t for her partner. Lisa could and would take care of herself. And her concern wasn’t for Dean Lawrence, either. If Lisa was forced to use what Michelle had called her “wicked left hook,” he would deserve that and then some. Hannah’s concern was for Ross and what it would mean for Crisis in Cherrywood if his director got benched for medical reasons.

There was only an hour to go before they could close the shop for the day, and Hannah was anticipating an evening at home with Moishe, a simple dinner of whatever she could find in her cupboards or her refrigerator, and a trial run of a new recipe she’d mixed up while the cheesecakes were baking. It was a type of cookie she knew Lynne would like, modeled after her favorite sandwich, peanut butter and banana on toast. It was the only cooking Lynne had ever done, if you could call toasting bread, spreading peanut butter, and slicing bananas “cooking.” They’d eaten so many peanut butter and banana sandwiches while studying together for finals in college that Hannah hadn’t been able to look at a jar of peanut butter for a full year after she’d left the campus to return home.

Hannah had just finished the last of her coffee and was preparing to rinse out her mug in the sink when the back door opened and her mother breezed in.

“Hello, Hannah,” Delores greeted her eldest daughter. “I have wonderful news!”

“You do?” Hannah took one look at her mother’s delighted expression and smiled right back. It was the first time she’d seen Delores look truly happy since Winthrop’s abrupt exit from her life.

“We finished early and Jared told us it’s absolutely perfect! The nineteen-fifties house is up and running, and I want you to be the first to see it. I value your opinion, dear.”

“Thank you, Mother. I’d love to see it,” Hannah agreed, pleased that her mother had chosen her for the first viewing. “Just let me ask Lisa to hold down the fort while I’m gone.”

A moment later, Hannah was back. She grabbed her coat from the hook by the back door and followed her mother across the parking lot to the rear of Granny’s Attic. She wasn’t even mildly suspicious until Delores opened the back door of Granny’s Attic, and Hannah found Ross Barton waiting for them. Was this another of her mother’s matchmaking attempts? Or had she invited Ross by virtue of his writer–producer hyphenate?

“Hey, Hannah!” Ross looked pleased to see her as she came through the back door and into the small narrow room that Delores and Carrie used for storage. “They made me wait in here for you. We’re supposed to be the first to see it.”

“That’s so you an keep us from looking like fools if there’s something wrong,” Carrie confessed, looking almost as happy as Delores did. “All you have to do is tell us, and we’ll fix it before anyone else sees it.”

Ross gave both older ladies a warm smile. “I’m sure it’s perfect. Can we go in now?”

“Yes, but walk around the side of the building and come in the front way,” Delores instructed. “We want you to get the full effect of the porch and then the living room.” She gave them a sweet smile. “You will indulge me, won’t you?”

“Of course,” Ross said, and led Hannah back out the door. They walked, single file, around the side of the building. It wasn’t until they rounded the corner to the front that Ross spoke. “I can’t believe they got it done so fast. Your mother and Carrie are amazing.”

“Amazing,” Hannah said, although amazing wasn’t the word she would have chosen. Deceptive, perhaps. Maybe even conniving or scheming. And if she wanted to tone it down just a bit, manipulative was always a safe bet. Delores was definitely up to something, but Hannah wasn’t about to get into it now. The less Ross knew about her mother’s machinations, the better. She’d have a private chat with Delores later and find out exactly what was going on.

“We had a front porch just like this in Duluth,” Ross said, when they opened the door.

“Everyone had a front porch like this,” Hannah looked around at the addition to Granny’s Attic that had been created by the wizardry of Ross’s studio carpenters. “There’s even a rug by the front door for boots.”

“With boots on it. And they’re from the right time period. My mother had a pair of boots just like that. She told me she wore them in high school.”

Hannah gazed down at the brown suede boots with fur around the tops. If she remembered correctly, those boots had come from her mother’s closet. “So there should be a coatrack, or a hall closet, or something like that when we go through the inside door.”

“Coatrack,” Ross announced as he opened the door to the inside. It was the room that in larger, more expensive houses, would be called a foyer. “It’s perfect, Hannah. The coatrack’s sitting on a homemade rag rug to catch the drips.”

“Of course it is. You’re talking about egg money here. Almost every farm wife used her egg money to buy a loom to make rag rugs. They made the rugs from everything you can think of, including burlap sacks and plastic grocery bags. They sold them to the people in town, and the tourists that came through in the summer.”

“A cottage industry?”

“Rag rugs, hooked rugs with designs on them, and hand-sewn chair pads for wooden kitchen chairs. Everybody had a craft in the fifties.” Hannah stopped at the mahogany door that led to the inside of the house. “Beveled glass, and it’s decorated with ferns and…is that a letter, or a design?”

“It’s a letter T, and it’s perfect. Amy and Jody’s last name is Thompson.”

The hallway sported a wooden staircase that Hannah knew led up to nowhere, and two doors that were placed opposite each other. Hannah chose the one on the left, opened it, and stepped inside. It was a fairly small room and the first detail that caught her eye made her smile.

“What’s got you so amused?” Ross asked.

“The black panther light on top of the television set. My Grandma Ingrid had one just like it.”

“Maybe it is your Grandma Ingrid’s.”

“That’s not impossible. Mother’s got a lot of her things in storage.”

“She’s got a green lava lamp, too.” Ross pointed to the end table where a lava lamp expurgated its bulbous bubbles.

“The only thing that’s missing is a…granny afghan!” Hannah burst into delighted laughter as she saw the crocheted wonder draped over the back of the green tweed couch. It was a granny afghan extraordinaire, done in shades of green and blue, surrounded by black borders.

“Perfect,” Ross said, gesturing toward the couch that was positioned strategically in front of the television set. “There’s room here for three to watch television.”

“Two. Nobody likes to sit in the middle of a couch. There’s nowhere to rest your elbows.”

“Lime green shag carpeting!” Ross exclaimed with a grin. “Your mother and Carrie did a really good job re-creating the nineteen-fifties. They must have done a lot of research.”

Not necessarily, Hannah thought, but she didn’t say it. If her mother wanted everyone to think she didn’t remember the fifties, Hannah wasn’t about to call her bluff.

“This is nice and homey.” Ross looked around at the ivory wallpaper with little green ivy vines marching down in stripes. “There’s even an overstuffed armchair with a pole lamp for reading. If we take out the glass in the window, we can shoot that scene with Tracey reading to Moishe in here.”

“It all looks good to me. Let’s go see how they decorated the formal living room, since you’ll be using it for the cocktail party.”

Hannah headed for the set of French doors that separated the small informal family room from the formal living room. The moment she stepped inside the larger space, Hannah knew her mother and Carrie had produced something that was about as close to perfection as anyone could come.

“Gorgeous,” Ross pronounced, echoing her emotion.

“Yes,” Hannah said, walking around the room in awe. Her mother and Carrie had perfectly re-created the elegant look that had been so popular in expensive homes at the time. The living room floor had a wine red carpet surrounded by a parquet wood border. The drapes were heavy wine-red silk and the walls were covered with ivory flocked wallpaper. There were gilt-edged mirrors in strategic places and several large landscapes in ornate frames.

“The piano’s a nice touch,” Ross said, heading for the gleaming white baby grand that was positioned by the floor-to-ceiling bookcases. “We’ll have someone playing it at the cocktail party.”

“No, you won’t,” Hannah said, lifting the lid to find absolutely nothing inside. “It’s just a shell.”

“That’s okay. We’ll mix in the sound later. As long as there’s a keyboard, someone can pretend to play.”

When they’d finished exploring the formal living room and spotted the desk that would be used for the suicide scene, Hannah and Ross headed back out to the hallway to open the second door.

“It’s straight out of The Student Prince,” Hannah breathed, eyeing the bedroom with its delft blue walls, white curtains, and white furniture. “Is this Amy’s room?”

“Yes. See that cushion on the dormer window?”

Hannah nodded. It was the only jarring note in the room. The cushion was bright orange.

“That’s for Moishe. Amy bought it so he’d have a spot to sit and watch the birds. Her father threw it in the trash because it didn’t match the rest of her room, but Jody retrieved it and gave it back to her on the day of their father’s funeral.”

“Sounds like a nasty man.”

“He was.”

Hannah stopped for a moment and then she began to frown. “Who’s playing the father in the movie? I haven’t met him yet.”

“And you won’t. The father is done entirely in voice-over. I wanted it that way for impact. We never get to see him, therefore we can’t find anything about him to like.”

“Interesting,” Hannah said.

“I just hope it’ll work. It’s always a gamble, casting villains. If they overplay the evil, they can be almost comical. And if they’re a bit too nice, the audience sympathizes with them. That’s why I decided to try a more radical approach. The father appears only in Amy’s mind. That should make him larger than life, more menacing, and totally unsympathetic. It also gives me an escape hatch, because it’s the father in her mind, not the real father.”

Hannah thought about that for a minute, and then she smiled. “It sounds like good reasoning to me. But I’m not a filmmaker and you are.”

“I just hope it’s not too hokey. If it is, it’ll be a simple matter to take out all but the most critical scenes and cast someone quickly.”

“When will you know?”

“By dailies on Friday night. Do you want to come out and watch them with me? Sally’s got us set up in the bar.”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” Hannah said, thoroughly fascinated by the concept.

“Okay. Let’s go tell your mother and Carrie what we think.”

“Fine. I think it’s fantastic, but you’re the producer. What do you think?”

“I think it’s fantastic, too.”

“You really think it’s that good?” Delores asked, her eyes sparkling in excitement.

“I do. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’d been dressing sets all your lives.”

“Thank you!” Carrie looked just as delighted as Delores did. “We did work very hard on it.”

“And you finished it ahead of schedule. Do you know how rare that is in the movie industry?”

Both Delores and Carrie shook their heads and then Delores cleared her throat. “Since you like your sets so much, I have a favor to ask.”

“What’s that?”

“Invite Hannah out to the inn for dinner tonight. I just know she’s not going to eat right.”

Really, Mother! You’re about as subtle as a ballerina in hip waders! Hannah thought, but she didn’t say it. It seemed as if her mother had given up on Norman and Mike as likely candidates for sons-in-law, and was now concentrating all her efforts on Ross.

“My pleasure,” Ross said, slipping his arm around Hannah’s shoulders and giving her a little squeeze. “And after dinner, I’ll have dailies of Moishe for her to see. How about you two? Would you like to join us?”

Delores shook her head. “That’s very nice of you, but no thanks. They’re having a sale at the mall tonight and I promised Carrie I’d go shopping with her.”

“We can go shopping another time,” Carrie declared.

“But how about the sale? It’s twenty percent off.”

“I’d probably buy something I didn’t need anyway. And I’m certainly not going to turn down such a nice invitation. Come on, Delores. Let’s go see that footage of your grandcat,”

“My grandcat?” Delores exclaimed, turning to give Carrie a dirty look. “How about Norman? Don’t you have to fix dinner for him?”

“Norman can fend for himself tonight. I’m going, Delores. How about you?”

“Oh. Well…all right,” Delores conceded, looking none too happy about it as she turned to Ross. “Thank you, Mr. Barton. We’d love to join you for dinner.”

“It’s Ross. And I’m very glad you’re coming.” Hannah glanced at Ross in surprise. He sounded as if he actually meant it. “Shall I pick you all up at seven?”

“No need for that,” Carrie said, exchanging another look with Delores. “I’ll drive and we’ll bring Hannah with us.”

Hannah choked slightly and covered it with a cough. It was the battle of the mothers and it seemed as if Delores had met her match. Less than two minutes ago, her mother had practically pushed her into Ross’s arms, and now Carrie had placed her in the position of co-chaperone.

“That’s out of the way for you,” Ross said to Carrie. “I’ll pick Hannah up at her condo. She has to take Moishe home first.”

Hannah was beginning to feel like the ball in a game of Keep-Away. It might be exciting, but it certainly wasn’t comfortable.

“Norman can take Moishe home,” Carrie blithely volunteered her son.

“But I couldn’t possibly ask Norman to…”

“Nonsense!” Carrie cut off Hannah’s objection. “Norman’s crazy about Moishe and vice versa. And he’ll cat-sit until you get home…just so our little kitty star doesn’t get lonely.”

Ah-ha! Hannah thought. The custard thickens! Carrie’s afraid I’ll invite Ross in when he brings me home and she wants Norman there to prevent any hanky-panky. Of course what Carrie didn’t know was that there wouldn’t have been any hanky-panky anyway. Hannah had put in a rough day and she was determined to hit the sack early tonight.

Chapter
Fifteen

Hannah was beaming like a proud mother when the lights came back up and the screen on Sally’s huge television went black. Moishe had been adorable. Even Delores had given a few oohs and ahhs in the appropriate places, especially during the funeral scene when Moishe had licked Erica’s cheek to comfort her.

“A born ham,” Hannah said in an aside to Ross, but she couldn’t seem to stop smiling. She guessed that some cats were born to be actors and others weren’t. And she was lucky enough to have a star on her hands.

“He’s even better than a trained cat,” Ross commented.

“You can train cats?” Hannah asked, but her grin gave her away. She knew there were some cats that were trained to obey commands, but it would never work with Moishe. If he understood what you wanted, he’d do it. If he felt like it. At that particular time. Maybe.

“I’d better get home soon,” Hannah said, glancing down at her watch. It was nine-fifteen and the early night she’d promised herself would turn into a late night if she stayed at the inn much longer.

“Just stay for Burke’s interview and then I’ll take you home. I want to hear how he handled that reporter. Everybody else is coming in to see it.”

“Who’s everybody?”

“The whole cast including Dean’s wife, Sharyn, and Tom Larchmont. Connor picked them up at the airport at seven and I’m sure they’re back here by now.”

“Okay,” Hannah agreed quite readily. She was eager to meet Lynne’s husband and very curious about the type of woman who would marry Dean. Sharyn Lawrence must be as long-suffering as a saint. She wanted to see Burke’s interview, too. Since it had been filmed that afternoon at The Cookie Jar, she really wanted to see how her shop looked. “Are they running the interview with Andrea, too?”

“Not until next week. I called the station and the news director said he wanted to intercut Andrea’s interview with the ones that they’ll be doing later this week of Tracey, Lynne, and Erica. He’s going to call it the Three Faces of Amy, and it’ll run next Friday night.”

Ten minutes later, the bar at the Lake Eden Inn was filled with movie people. Ross had introduced Hannah to Tom Larchmont and it was easy to see why Lynne had married him. Tom treated his wife like a porcelain doll, jumping up to get her whatever she wanted and draping an affectionate arm around her shoulders at every opportunity. And even though he was considerably older than Lynne was, he had the body of an athlete and the good looks of a man who had enough money to indulge himself.

Then there was Sharyn Lawrence. Hannah glanced across at the woman who’d married the Bad Boy Director. There was no denying that Dean made the hearts of his actresses beat faster, but his wife had the same effect on the men in the cast and crew. She was petite, barely five feet tall, and she had the wide-eyed look of a child. Her glossy black hair was cut in a gamine style that enhanced the innocent look, but that visual naiveté was completely at odds with her body. Sharyn had a figure that would certainly give Ronni Ward some competition in the Lake Eden Bikini Queen Contest. She was lush and curvaceous from the neck down, and ingenuous and childlike from the neck up. Hannah had spent only moments with Sharyn, but she was left with the impression that Sharyn was too smart and too savvy to put up with any nonsense from her husband. If Dean strayed too far afield while Sharyn was here, Hannah was willing to bet that the fur would fly.

Sally dimmed the lights and Dick put the giant screen in television mode. Chuck Wilson’s handsome face filled the screen for a moment and when the camera pulled back, Hannah saw Dee-Dee Hughes, his anorexic co-anchor sitting next to him. Both talking heads were seated at the large, curved desk, an integral part of KCOW’s News At Ten set, holding sheaves of paper they didn’t need since they both used TelePrompTers.

Hannah and Ross watched as the news rolled smoothly along. There had been a robbery on a quiet residential street in Grey Eagle, a fire in a tire store in Browerville, a band concert in Little Falls to benefit a local charity, a near drowning on the banks of the Mississippi when someone’s bicycle slid off a path and crashed through the thin ice on the river, and a yard sale in Royalton, where several items, stolen the previous summer, had surfaced. The Skatin’ Place in St. Cloud had changed its hours, the Long Prairie Volunteer Fire Department was holding a raffle, and the little town of Sobieski was planning a high school reunion.

The camera pushed in to feature Dee-Dee’s perfect face. “Stay tuned for our own P. K. with The Movie Moment,” she said. “Tonight P. K. will be interviewing a television personality we all know and love at The Cookie Jar in Lake Eden.”

“Nice plug,” Ross said, patting Hannah on the back.

“It was all his idea. I never would have thought to ask.”

Hannah found herself holding her breath as she waited through a slew of commercials for new cars hardly anyone could afford, carpet stores that could install practically overnight, and companies that could give you credit, check your credit, or clean up your credit report. It seemed like forever, but at last Chuck and Dee-Dee were back.

“So tell us who you ran into at The Cookie Jar,” Chuck prompted, and the camera moved to the side, where P. K. was sitting a bit removed from the important co-anchors.

“Burke Anson,” P.K. said, leaning close as if he were confiding a big secret. “He’s the male lead on a new feature that’s filming in Lake Eden. It’s called Crisis in Cherrywood.”

The camera moved to Dee-Dee Hughes. “For the few viewers who don’t know who Burke Anson is, why don’t you refresh our memory?”

“He’s the suntanned Adonis in the Surf ’n Turf commercials,” P. K. said. “But for those of you who remember Burke with his surfboard, I’ve got to warn you that in my interview with him, he’s fully dressed.”

The camera caught Dee-Dee giving P. K. a petulant look and then the tape of the interview began to run. Hannah smiled as she saw a wide shot with Lisa and the display jars of cookies behind the counter. Their shop looked good, right down to the pictures Norman had taken of their best cookies for the walls. She really ought to have him take more pictures. The Cherry Bomb Cookies would look fantastic, and so would the Mock Turtles. She was just thinking about other cookies she could ask Norman to photograph, when she realized that she wasn’t paying any attention to the interview, and she focused on the television again.

“Not at all,” Burke replied, looking straight into the camera as he responded to P. K.’s question about their exhausting shooting schedule and whether it was taking a toll on the quality of the production. “Our director, Mr. Dean Lawrence, won’t let us get by with anything less than our best performance.”

“I heard about the full-dress rehearsals you do the night before shooting every scene. Someone told me it’s not unusual for Mr. Lawrence to run the scene several dozen times. Isn’t that hard on the actors, especially when you’re not going to shoot the scene until the next day?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t heard anybody complaining.”

“Tell me about the next day. Do you rehearse again, before you actually shoot the scene?”

“Oh, definitely. We rehearse for as many times as it takes to get it right. Then we shoot.”

“But most directors don’t make you go through the scene that many times, do they?”

“I wouldn’t know about that. This is the first feature film I’ve ever been in. But I firmly believe that Mr. Lawrence is a genius. You should see him when he puts on my costume and does my part for me. It’s a great learning experience.”

“He puts on your costume and demonstrates your part?”

“Yes, if I can’t seem to find my motivation. He does a darn good imitation of my voice, too.”

“Do you think he does this because you’re a novice? I mean, because you’re not a veteran movie actor?”

Burke shook his head. “Oh, I don’t think so. He does it for other actors, too.”

“How about the actresses?”

“Well, Lynne doesn’t really need any help like that. She gets everything right the first time.”

“Just let me clarify that, Burke.” P. K. turned to face his camera. “Burke is referring to Lynne Larchmont, who plays the female lead in Crisis in Cherrywood.” P. K. got back in interviewer posture. “You say your director, Dean Lawrence, occasionally puts on the costumes and demonstrates the parts for his actors. Is that right?”

“That’s right. It’s very helpful.”

P. K. gave a little laugh and winked at the camera. “But of course Mr. Lawrence doesn’t do this for the women’s parts.”

“Sure he does. And he looks pretty darn convincing in drag.” There was a stunned silence. It was obvious that P. K. wasn’t about to risk a comment after the bombshell Burke had just dropped. But Burke plunged right ahead into even deeper water. “I was just kidding, you know. But Mr. Lawrence can do great voices. He’s got Erica’s down pat. If he put on her costume and sat down in a dark bar, I bet seven or eight guys would come over and try to hit on him.”

Hannah heard several people gasp and she turned to look at Ross. Burke had certainly stepped in every cow pie in Winnetka County and perhaps even in the whole state of Minnesota.

“Idiot,” Ross muttered under his breath, staring at the screen. “I hope that reporter’s a pro.”

“Very funny, Burke,” P. K. jumped in, turning to face the camera. “Movie people are always kidding each other like this, folks. But there’s no denying that Mr. Lawrence is not only a great director, he’s also a great actor. Burke didn’t mention it, but there’s a cat in the picture. His real name is Moishe and he’s got a couple of lines…or maybe I should say, he’s got a couple of yowls. I wouldn’t be surprised if Mr. Lawrence could play that cat better than Moishe himself.”

“Smooth,” Ross said under his breath. “Now people will remember the cat.”

Hannah risked a quick glance at Dean. He was smiling, but it wasn’t a friendly smile and Hannah was glad she wasn’t Burke right about now.

“Thank you, Burke,” P. K. said from his chair on the set. He turned to face the camera. “We’ve got a treat in store for you next Friday night right after the news. It’s an in-depth story about the three actresses playing Amy Thompson in Crisis in Cherrywood. We mentioned that Lynne Larchmont plays her as an adult, and Erica James plays Amy as a teenager. What we didn’t mention is that the third actress is our very own Tracey Todd from Lake Eden, Minnesota, and she plays Amy as a child.”

The news had only five more minutes to run and everyone was silent as Rayne Phillips informed them that the weather tomorrow would be almost the same as it had been today. Then Wingo Jones gave the sports scores and showed a clip of the center from the Little Falls Flyers sinking a basket from the opposite side of the court in the last two seconds to win the game. The credits scrolled much too rapidly for anyone except someone’s mother to read, and then the screen went dark and all was silent as the lights came up.

Hannah sneaked a quick glance at Burke. He looked understandably nervous. What he’d said was inflammatory and might even be considered actionable.

“Uh…Mr. Lawrence?” Burke said, not daring to call the director by his first name.

“Yes, Burke.”

“I’m…uh…I’m real sorry about that. I’m not used to giving interviews and…um…I thought it would be funny. You know.”

“It was funny, Burke. I’m sure people will be talking about it for weeks to come.”

“But…you’re not…uh…mad, because of what I said and all?”

“Why on earth should I be angry? I just told you I thought it was funny.”

“But…I think maybe it didn’t make you look so good. I mean, with my crack about the dress and the bar and all. I know you don’t get dressed up in women’s costumes, but I thought it would be really funny…at the time, that is.”

“And I told you it was funny.”

Hannah stared at Burke, willing him to quit, but Burke didn’t seem to know how to stop. “Then…no hard feelings?” he asked.

“No hard feelings.” Dean stood up and yawned. “Come along, Sharyn. I’m going up to bed. We have an early call tomorrow. Seven o’clock, my office. I want Erica and her two school chums. They’ve already been notified.”

“Not me?” Burke asked, gulping slightly.

“You’re not in that scene, Burke. I’ll see you on the set at ten.”

Hannah held her breath until Dean walked out the door and then she released it in a long sigh.

“Are you okay?” Ross asked.

“I’m fine. I’m just relieved, that’s all. The fallout wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. I expected Dean to keelhaul Burke in Sally’s new koi pond.”

“Dean wouldn’t do that. He’s a pro and he knows we need Burke to finish the picture.”

“But he was just putting a good face on it, right? I mean, he’s mad at Burke, isn’t he?”

“I don’t know. Dean’s lived in Hollywood long enough to know that almost any publicity is good publicity. And Burke mentioned Dean’s name and the name of the film several times. Of course Dean didn’t like the reference to women’s costumes, but Burke did say that he was a genius and Dean’s bound to like that part of it. It’s a mixed bag, but my guess is that Dean’ll take it in stride.”

“Just one cup of coffee,” Hannah said, climbing up the stairs to her condo two hours later. They’d stayed for the late night snacks Sally had put out after the news and chatted with some of the cast and crew. Before they’d realized it, almost two hours had passed and Hannah had told Ross that she had to go home. “And right after your coffee, I have to get to bed. I need to get my sleep tonight.”

Ross gave her a teasing grin. “You’d never make it in showbiz. There are nights that I have to deal with only six hours’ sleep.”

“Six hours’ sleep is good. On most nights, I don’t get more than five.”

“It’s been as little as four for me.”

“And three for me. And last night, I got only two!”

“Really? But why was that?” Ross asked, breaking the chain of one-downmanship.

“Moishe. He must have been nervous, because he got up to eat every hour on the hour. And then he used his litter-box.”

“Why would that keep you awake?”

“His claws screech against the plastic when he covers. And don’t ask me what covers means.”

“I know what it means. My mother had a cat. Do you want me to brace you for the onslaught?”

“Please,” Hannah said getting out her key and slipping it in the lock. But when she opened the door, the usual orange-and-white bundle didn’t hurtle out to greet her.

“Where’s Moishe?” she said, spotting Norman on the couch.

“He went to bed early, right after I fed him. I think he was tired after his scenes today. I hope you don’t mind, but I think he’s sleeping on your pillow and I didn’t have the heart to wake him. And…I finished your chocolate fudge ice cream.”

Hannah told him she didn’t mind about the pillow or the ice cream, and went into the kitchen to put on the coffee. When that was accomplished, she headed to her bedroom to check on her four-footed movie star. Moishe was sleeping the sleep of a well-fed jungle tiger, and from the way he was smacking his lips, he was probably dreaming of mouse body parts. Norman had been right. Instead of falling asleep on the expensive goose-down pillow she’d bought for him, he was on her expensive goose-down pillow.

“The pillows are always softer on the other side of the bed,” Hannah whispered, and let her minipanther sleep. She was just passing the guest room on her way back to the living room when she noticed that the door was open. That was odd. She always closed it when there were no guests. It wasn’t to conserve energy or any of the admirable ecological reasons. It was because Moishe loved to “hunt” the satin butterflies on the new bedspread she’d bought for the guest room. Hannah was about to shut the door when she realized that there was a good-sized lump on her bed, and her eyebrows headed straight toward the ceiling fan the former owner had installed. There was someone sleeping in her bed. She took a step closer and her eyebrows remained on high alert when she recognized her uninvited guest. It was Mike!

Hannah gulped, feeling a bit like Baby Bear who’d come home to find his porridge eaten, his chair recently used, and Goldilocks sleeping in his bed. In her case, it was her ice cream that had been eaten, Norman who’d been sitting on her couch, and Mike who was sleeping in her bed. But all that didn’t really matter. It was close enough to prove that fairytales weren’t all that wildly exaggerated.

“What are you doing in my bed?” Hannah asked, prompting a bearlike snort and a leap to the feet from the unsolicited sleeper who’d been snuggled up on her new bedspread.

“Hannah! Sorry about that. I started to doze off on the couch and Norman told me to come in here. He said you wouldn’t mind.”

“Well…I guess I don’t,” Hannah conceded, “but what are you doing here in the first place?”

“I brought the pizza.”

“What pizza?”

“The pizza Norman ordered from Bertanelli’s. I was sitting there waiting for my pizza when he called in his. Ellie told me they were short a delivery guy, so I figured I’d just bring them both out here and we could eat together.”

“Okay,” Hannah said, wondering what sort of numbers that would rack up on the scale of coincidence. “You want some coffee? I just put on a pot.”

“Sure. Is Ross here?”

“He’s in the living room talking to Norman.”

“Great. I have to tell him that the kids are trying to skate on the ice rink at the park.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“It’s fake ice and it’s going to be all marked up by the time they shoot there on Friday.”

“Fake ice?” Hannah was surprised. This was the first she’d heard of it, but it made sense to her. It was possible to have a warm spell before Friday that might render the ice rink unusable. “What are they going to do about the snow if the weather warms up?”

“They’ll use fake snow. They’re going to use it anyway, just to make it look better.”

“Okay,” Hannah said, too tired to ask the other questions that occurred to her. “If you don’t mind, I’m beat and I’m going to bed. Will you tell Norman and Ross?”

Mike looked shocked. “Sure, but you’re kicking us out without coffee?”

“I’m not kicking you out at all. Help yourselves to coffee and any cookies you find in the cookie jar. Stay as long as you like, but just don’t wake me when you leave. And since you’re the official law enforcement officer, would you please make sure that you’re the last one out and the door locks behind you?”

“You can be sure of that!” Mike said, putting both hands around her waist to turn her around and give her a gentle nudge toward the bedroom.

Chapter
Sixteen

It was ten o’clock on Wednesday morning and Lisa had just opened The Cookie Jar for business. Dean Lawrence had approved the Mini Cherry Cheesecakes enthusiastically, and Hannah had returned to The Cookie Jar to bake and chill another four batches for the cocktail party scene that would be shot that afternoon. Moishe was holding court at the round table by the window, Lisa was waiting on a customer, and Hannah was in the kitchen with Andrea, baking the cookies she’d intended to bake the previous evening.

“All three of them?” Andrea stared at Hannah in absolute shock and then she started to laugh. “And you just left them there and went to bed?”

Hannah shrugged as she finished shaping another pan of cookies and slid them onto the baker’s rack. The timer dinged and she removed the pans that had been in the oven, replacing them with the pans she’d just prepared. “These are new cookies we’re going to try out today. They’re called All-Nighters.”

“Why?”

“Because they’re banana and peanut butter. That was Lynne’s favorite sandwich when she was in college and she used to make them every time we got together to cram for finals.”

“Not that why. The other why.”

“What other why?”

“The important why. Why did you just leave them there in your living room?”

“It was easier than trying to get them to leave. And I needed my sleep.”

“You mean you actually slept?”

“Like a baby. And that reminds me, how’s Bethany?”

“She’s great. She smiled at me this morning. Grandma McCann said it was gas, but I know a real smile when I see one. Do you want me to taste one of the All-Nighters and tell you what I think?”

“Absolutely.”

Andrea reached for a cookie and took a bite. She chewed and swallowed, and then she smiled. “They’re good, Hannah. I’ve always liked banana and peanut butter. It’s a great combination. And that reminds me, do you have a red scarf I can borrow? The kind you wear around your neck when you’re skating?”

Hannah hid an amused smile. It was another zinger from the mistress of non sequitur. Andrea probably had a reason for the abrupt change of subject, but Hannah didn’t want to ask. Sometimes the explanation took more time than it was worth. “I don’t have one. Why do you need it?”

“Mr. Lawrence thought it would add a lot to Tracey’s skating scene if she wore a red scarf draped around her neck. He said it would be a great combination with her royal blue coat. And he said the red would make it look as if she’s skating even faster when she’s on the end for Crack the Whip.”

“A great combination,” Hannah repeated, recalling that Andrea had called peanut butter and bananas a great combination before she’d asked about the red scarf. “Doesn’t Bill have a red scarf? I think I gave him one a couple of years ago for Christmas.”

Andrea clapped her hands in delight. “Yes, he does! He wears it with his dress coat and I think it’s in his top dresser drawer. Thanks for remembering it, Hannah. It’ll be just perfect for Tracey’s scene.”

“That’s today?”

“No, not until Friday. Today they’re shooting the classroom scene, where she wins the spelling bee. It’s at noon, right before they break for lunch. You’ll come, won’t you?”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” Hannah said.

“I think I’ll go look for that scarf right now. I have to go home anyway.”

“Why?”

“I need to see if Bethany will smile at me again.”

Hannah was refilling coffee cups when she noticed Connor motioning to her from the counter. She finished the table she was serving, and then she ducked behind the counter to talk to him. “Hi, Connor. Do you need me?”

“I certainly do. You said to let you know if I couldn’t talk Mrs. Henderson into signing that release form. Well, I talked until I was blue in the face, but there’s no way she’ll do it. She was really nice about it, though. She gave me gooseberry pie and coffee and showed me pictures of her grandchildren.”

“But she didn’t sign?”

“No. Nothing I said convinced her, not even the money Mr. Lawrence was willing to pay.”

“Then I’ll give it a try,” Hannah promised. “I’ll catch her when they shoot the cocktail scene.”

“Mrs. Henderson is in the cocktail scene?”

“No, but her youngest daughter is and Winnie’s bound to drive in to watch Alice. I think I can convince her.”

“Oh, I hope so! Thank you, Hannah. I’ll tell Mr. Lawrence that you’re going to try. I just hope he doesn’t fire me for failing him.”

“He won’t…will he?”

“He’s fired me before, but he always hired me back after he got over being mad at me. I’m just afraid that it’ll be permanent one of these times. I’m almost sixty and it would be hard to get another job without references from my former employer.”

“You’re worrying over nothing,” Hannah reassured him, reaching into one of the serving jars with napkin-sheathed fingers and handing him two Twin Chocolate Delights. “Eat these cookies. The chocolate will make you feel better.”

“But I really should go and find Mr. Lawrence.”

“Find him later, after I’ve talked to Winnie.”

“But Mr. Lawrence told me to get right back to him.”

“Bad news can wait, especially since that bad news might turn into good news.”

Connor considered it for a moment and then he nodded. “You could be right. If Mr. Lawrence doesn’t ask me outright, I’ll wait to tell him.”

Ten minutes later, Connor was smiling and chatting with one of the grips. Hannah’s chocolate prescription had done the trick and she was congratulating herself on a job well done when Andrea rushed back in the door.

“Hi, Andrea,” Hannah greeted her. “Did you find that scarf?”

“I found it. And I found something else, too.”

“What’s that?”

“Proof that Bill is cheating on me!”

Klaxons sounded in Hannah’s head. Her sister’s eyes were blazing with angry fire and it was clear she was fit to be tied. “Come into the kitchen with me and you can tell me all about it. I have to take Moishe back there for a break.”

Hannah collected her cat, shifted him to one arm, and grabbed Andrea’s arm with her free hand. She rushed her through the crowded coffee shop before anyone could ask what was wrong, and into the confines of the deserted kitchen. She dropped Moishe off in his large dog crate and shut the door, but she didn’t release Andrea’s arm until her sister was seated on a stool at the work island.

“Eat these!” Hannah ordered, plunking a couple of Chocolate Chip Crunch cookies down on a napkin and shoving them over to her sister.

“But I don’t want any…”

“Eat them while I get us some coffee,” Hannah said, interrupting her sister’s protest. “Have I ever steered you wrong with chocolate?”

“No, but…” Andrea stopped speaking and sighed. And then she took a bite of the first cookie. It was only after she’d consumed both that she looked up at Hannah with tearful eyes. “It’s Bill. He’s…”

“Have a sip of coffee first,” Hannah interrupted her again. “Then I want you to start at the beginning and tell me everything.”

Andrea did as ordered. She sipped the coffee, gave another quavering sigh, and then squared her shoulders. “Bill didn’t take his new shirt with him. I found it hidden at the bottom of his scarf and hankie drawer.”

“Okay,” Hannah said, heading to the walk-in cooler for reinforcements. She set the rest of the box of chocolate truffles in front of her sister and got down to business. “Nibble on those while you tell me why the shirt Bill forgot means he’s cheating on you.”

“He didn’t forget it. He didn’t not take it on purpose.”

Double negative, Hannah’s grammatical mind shouted, but she ignored it. This was not the time to correct her sister’s speech. “You think Bill deliberately left the shirt at home?”

“Yes! I laid it out on the bed and folded it for him and everything. And then, when my back was turned, he stuffed it in his dresser drawer instead of putting it in his suitcase. And he made sure it was his scarf and hankie drawer, so I wouldn’t find out he didn’t pack it.”

“Okay,” Hannah regrouped. “And you think this means he’s cheating on you?”

“I know it does.”

Hannah waited until Andrea had taken another dose of chocolate before she continued. “Exactly how do you know that?”

“The shirt Bill didn’t take is the new one I gave him for Valentine’s Day. I asked him to think of me every time he wore it and he promised he would.”

“But Bill didn’t take the shirt.”

“That’s right. And you know that Bill never promises something unless he means it. That proves he wanted to forget all about me and follow his own agenda in Miami. He’s probably out on the beach right now with Ronni Ward and…” Andrea stopped as Moishe let out a yowl. “You’re absolutely right, Moishe. Bill’s probably out there catting around.”

But no sooner had the words left Andrea’s mouth than Moishe gave another yowl even louder than the first. And then another that was practically earsplitting.

“What’s the matter with him, Hannah?”

Hannah walked over to take her cat out of the cage. He wanted to get away from them and back to adoration of his public, but Andrea felt abandoned enough as it was without adding a cat’s rejection to the mix. “He’s upset,” she said, quite truthfully.

“Why?”

“He knows you’re upset and you’re one of his favorite people,” Hannah told her, leaving truth in the dust. “He probably wants to sit in your lap and make you feel better.”

“How sweet!” Andrea breathed, holding out her arms. “Give him to me, Hannah.”

“Be nice and I’ll give you a whole can of tuna when we get home,” Hannah whispered in her mini-tiger’s ear. Moishe turned to give her a baleful look, as if a fishy bribe was an insult and he wouldn’t dream of misbehaving with someone as upset as Andrea was.

“It’s very, very nice of you to care, but I’m much better now,” Andrea cooed, stroking Moishe’s head. And then she looked up at Hannah. “This is just amazing. I had no idea he liked me this much. Look, Hannah. He’s licking my hand.”

Hannah smiled and mentally vowed to give her feline a whole canister of salmon-flavored treats in addition to the tuna. And then she got back to the business at hand. “So…you found the shirt in Bill’s scarf drawer.”

“His scarf and hankie drawer. He doesn’t have a drawer just for scarves.”

“Right.” Hannah did her best to think of some reason why Bill wouldn’t want to take the shirt. “Tell me about the shirt. What kind was it?”

“It was an Armani that I found on sale out at the mall. The salesman told me it was really in right now, and Bill said he absolutely loved it.”

Really in tipped Hannah off. She was willing to bet there was more to this story than a simple shirt. “What did the shirt look like?”

“You know. It had two sleeves, and buttons, and a collar, and…you know what a shirt looks like.”

“Long sleeves, or short?”

“Long.”

“Regular collar?”

“That’s right. It had one pocket, and it was an absolutely gorgeous color.”

“Uh-oh,” Hannah said under her breath. They’d come to the crux of it now. “What color?” she asked, narrowing in on what she hoped would explain her brother-in-law’s atypical behavior.

“Raspberry.”

That set Hannah back a couple of paces. “And raspberry is…red?”

“It’s a little lighter than red.”

Ah-ha! Hannah experienced the sweet thrill of success. “Is it pink?”

“It’s not pure pink. It has some blue in it, you know?”

“Not really. Describe the color in more detail.”

“Well…it’s a little bluer than mauve, but much more subdued than cherry. It’s really just a shade or two lighter than burgundy.”

“I see,” Hannah said, doing her best not to chuckle. The shirt Bill had failed to pack was pink and that explained everything. There was no way Bill would wear a pink shirt to a law enforcement convention. With all that testosterone floating around, the chairs and tables were probably growing beards, and any sheriff in a pink shirt would be laughed right out of the hotel…especially if he said his wife bought it for him and he’d promised to think of her every time he wore it.

“What?” Andrea asked. “Are you choking?”

“Something must have gone down the wrong pipe. Just let me get a glass of water.” Hannah coughed again, doing her best to conceal her mirth as she headed for the sink to run water.

“Well?” Andrea asked, when Hannah came back to the table. “Do you see why I’m so upset?”

“Of course I do. But…there may be a very simple explanation. Has Bill ever worn that shirt?”

“No, not yet.”

“That’s it, then,” Hannah said, congratulating herself for saving Andrea’s marriage and getting her brother-in-law out of a pickle.

“What’s it? I don’t understand.”

“Bill didn’t want to wear it for the first time when you weren’t around, especially since he’d think of you and get lonely. It’s as clear as the nose on my face.” The nose on my face that’s growing longer by the second, her mind added, but Hannah ignored it.

“I still don’t understand.”

“Bill didn’t wear it because he’s saving it for a special occasion.”

“Well…I guess that makes some kind of sense,” Andrea conceded.

“You bet it does. And I’m also sure that when he gets home, Bill’s going to take you out to a fancy dinner and wear that shirt.”

“You think?”

“I know,” Hannah said, making a mental note to call Bill at his hotel in Florida and make sure he knew enough to do just that.

ALL-NIGHTER COOKIES

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F., rack in the middle position

Hannah’s Note: Florence didn’t have any bananas (she didn’t expect to be open while they were shooting the movie) and I ended up taking one of Edna’s shortcuts in this recipe. If you don’t like shortcuts and want to do this the original way, use 2/3 cup very ripe, almost all black on the outside, pureed bananas instead of the baby food bananas and banana pudding mix. The other change you have to make is to use 4 cups flour instead of 3 ½ . The dough will be stickier and you’ll have to chill it for at least 4 hours in order to make the dough balls. I made these cookies both ways, and Mother was the only one who could tell the difference. (I still think it was a lucky guess.)

1½ cups melted butter (3 sticks)

1 cup white (granulated) sugar

1 cup firmly packed brown sugar

2 beaten eggs (just whip them up with a fork)

1 teaspoon baking soda

½ teaspoon salt

½ cup baby food mashed bananas (I used Gerber’s)

5.1 ounce package banana cream pudding mix (NOT sugar-free) (I used Jell-O, 6-serving pkg.)

3½ cups flour (no sifting—pack it down in the cup when you measure)

1 cup chopped nuts (I used salted peanuts)

2 cups peanut butter chips (one 10-ounce package will do just fine)

½ cup white (granulated) sugar for later

Melt the butter in a large microwave-safe bowl. Stir in the sugars, beaten eggs, baking soda, and salt.

Measure out ½ cup of baby food bananas and add it, along with the package of dry pudding mix. (Make sure your baby food bananas don’t have anything else, like cereal, added to them!)

Mix in the flour by half-cup increments. Add the nuts and then the peanut butter chips. Stir until everything is incorporated.

Roll the dough into walnut-sized balls with your hands. (If it’s too sticky, chill it for 30 minutes or so, and try again.)

Put ½ cup white sugar in a small bowl and roll the balls in it. Place the dough balls on a greased cookie sheet, 12 to a standard-sized sheet. Press them down with the heel of your hand, or with a metal spatula sprayed with Pam or other non-stick cooking spray.

Bake the cookies for 10 to 12 minutes at 350 degrees F., or until they’re lightly golden in color. Let them cool for 2 minutes on the cookie sheet and then move them to a wire rack to finish cooling.

These cookies freeze well. Roll them up in foil, and place the rolls in a freezer bag.

Michelle asked for this recipe after Lonnie Murphy tasted them at The Cookie Jar. She says she’s going to freeze some so he’ll have them when he visits her, but she’s going to mark the package “Lutefisk Patties” so her roommates won’t get into them.

Yield: Approximately 8 to 10 dozen, depending on cookie size.

CHOCOLATE TRUFFLES

6 tablespoons chilled butter ( ¾ stick, 3 ounces)

12-ounce package semi-sweet chocolate chips (two cups—I used Ghirardelli’s)

½ cup firmly packed powdered sugar (confectioner’s sugar)

6 egg yolks

1 Tablespoon rum, brandy, flavored brandy, or vanilla extract

Put an inch or so of water in the bottom half of a double boiler and heat it to a gentle boil. Cut the butter in chunks and place them in the top half of the double boiler. Add the chips and then the powdered sugar and set the top half over the bottom half. Put on the cover and let everything melt while you…

Beat the egg yolks in a small bowl with a whisk. Whisk until they’re thoroughly combined, but stop before they get fluffy or lighter in color.

Stir the chocolate until it’s completely melted. It will be thick, almost like fudge. Remove the top half of the double boiler and set it on a cold burner.

Stir several spoonfuls of beaten egg yolk into the chocolate mixture. When that’s incorporated, stir in several more spoonfuls. Keep adding egg yolk in small amounts, stirring constantly, until all the egg yolks have been incorporated and the chocolate mixture is smooth and glossy.

Stir in the rum, brandy, or vanilla. Put the lid back on the top of the double boiler and refrigerate the chocolate mixture for 3 hours.

To Decorate Truffles:

finely chopped nuts

powdered (confectioner’s) sugar

chocolate sprinkles

shaved chocolate

cocoa powder

finely shredded coconut

Warning: This next step is fairly messy. If you like, wear disposable plastic food-server gloves. You can also lightly grease your hands, or spray them with Pam or other non-stick cooking spray so the chocolate won’t stick to your fingers.

Form small balls of chilled chocolate with your hands and roll them in bowls of the above ingredients. You can mix and match, or give all of your truffles the same coating. Place the truffles in ruffled bon-bon papers and store them in an airtight container in the refrigerator.

These are incredibly delicious candies. They’re super easy to make, but let’s keep that a secret. It can’t hurt to let people assume that you went to a lot of trouble, just for them.

Yield: 4 to 5 dozen, depending on truffle size.

Chapter
Seventeen

Hannah and Andrea broke into applause when Tracey spelled onomatopoeia, a very difficult word for the third-grade girl she was playing. They were standing at the back of the classroom, pretending to be parents who’d come to watch the spelling bee and doubling as extras since Dean Lawrence had decided at the last minute he wanted a few “parents” involved.

He cued Andrea, who was playing Amy’s mother shortly before the fatal accident that would claim her life, and she rushed to the front of the room to hug Tracey. They held their pose for a moment and then Dean cued in several of the real third graders, who’d been instructed to look both angry and jealous, and to start whispering to each other.

“Cut,” Dean called out, once he’d gotten the shot. “That’s a wrap, everybody. We got it in just one shot.”

The real third graders took their cue from their teacher and the whole class applauded. Hannah could tell that they were very excited about being in a movie.

Dean caught Andrea’s arm as she moved to pass him, and he bent down to address Tracey. “That was perfect, Sweetheart. You’re a fine little actress. And Mommy?” Dean straightened up and took Andrea’s hand. “You were every bit as wonderful as I knew you’d be. Now don’t forget what I told you, all right?”

“I won’t forget,” Andrea said, leading Tracey from the room with Hannah following in her wake.

“What did he mean by that?” Hannah asked, as soon as they’d cleared the doorway. “What did he tell you?”

Andrea gave an elaborate shrug, but she didn’t meet Hannah’s eyes. “Nothing, really. He just said he thought I’d be perfect in that scene as Tracey’s mother.”

“Because you are Tracey’s mother?”

“Maybe,” Andrea said, leaning forward to re-tie the bow in Tracey’s hair. “Okay, honey. Say good-bye to Aunt Hannah. We’ve got to get you home so we can take off that makeup.”

Once Tracey and Andrea had left, Hannah walked back to The Cookie Jar. Andrea had left in such a hurry she’d forgotten she’d promised to give Hannah a ride. That was odd, and so was the comment Dean Lawrence had made as they’d exited the classroom. Could Andrea’s doubts about Bill’s fidelity have driven her into another man’s arms? Hannah didn’t think so. She was positive that Andrea loved Bill. But jealousy and doubt could be taking its toll, and a real womanizer would attempt to capitalize on that. The voice she’d heard when she’d delivered Dean’s cheesecake this morning sounded a lot like her sister’s voice. But certainly she must be mistaken about that.

Hannah put her suspicions firmly out of mind as she passed the park with its empty play equipment. The chains on the swings hung straight down like suspenders holding up a pair of pants, and the gleaming metal slide had a puddle of melted snow at the bend. Tracey’s favorite, the Flying Dutchman, Merry-Go-Round, or Whirl-A-Whirl, whatever you cared to call the large circular platform with metal handholds that the children rode as it spun around and around, was perfectly motionless and surrounded by melting bits of snow. The area beneath it, scraped clear of grass by children’s feet, was beginning to turn muddy in the noonday sun.

Down at the far end of the park, the skating rink gleamed in the sun. Hannah was amazed that the ice looked so firm until she remembered that it was artificial. If the day kept up its warming trend, all the snow would melt and Ross would have to rely on fake snow as well as fake ice. That wasn’t so bad, but Tracey and the other girls would broil in their heavy costumes during the skating scene.

Once she’d passed the circular sidewalk that ringed the park, Hannah crossed the street and walked up Fourth to Main Street. She rounded the corner by the now-defunct Magnolia Blossom Bakery, and found herself glancing in the front plate glass window and remembering how beautifully decorated it had been. Some of those decorations, including the lovely round tables and matching chairs, now graced the coffee shop at The Cookie Jar. Hannah still felt a bit guilty for taking advantage of Vanessa’s panicked offer to sell them to her at such a ridiculous price, but she wasn’t about to give them up. She’d done the right thing and contacted Gloria Travis, who should have inherited the money Vanessa had spent to buy them, and Gloria had told her to keep everything she wanted and give away the rest.

Lake Eden Realty, the office where Andrea worked, was humming in lonely splendor. The computers were on, the desk lamps were lit, and the fax machine was spewing out paper. The owner, Al Percy, wasn’t there and neither was Andrea. Since Ross had rented Main Street for the week, no business except movie business would be conducted.

Her shop looked busy and Lisa must have been waiting for her to arrive, because she opened the front door and motioned to her. Hannah dashed across the street and into The Cookie Jar, wondering what sort of emergency had reared its ugly head in the forty-five minutes she’d been gone.

“He…he wants what?” Hannah sputtered, looking at her young partner with dismay. “And by when?”

“Hors d’oeuvres, that’s what. And he had the nerve to ask me if I knew what they were!”

“That’s not the insult you think it is,” Hannah informed her. “He asked me if I knew what finger food was!”

Lisa gave a startled little giggle, and Hannah knew her good mood had been restored. That was one of the things she loved about her partner. Lisa had a sunny disposition, and even though Dean had introduced a few storm clouds on her horizon, her cheerful nature couldn’t remain hidden for long.

“What sort of small bits of appetizing food does he want?” Hannah asked, giving the dictionary definition and earning a smile from her partner.

“He said he’d leave that up to us. The only thing is, everything has to be edible, because he wants the extras at the cocktail party to mingle and munch.”

“Mingle and munch?” Hannah repeated, making a face. “That sounds positively inane. I wonder what sort of appetizers they served in the fifties.”

“I’ll call Marge. The library’s got a section of old cookbooks. She can look it up for us.”

“Good idea,” Hannah said, heading for the pantry to see what supplies they’d need to buy for mingle-and-munch time at the nineteen-fifties house.

Searching the pantry didn’t take long, and neither did going through the walk-in cooler. When she came back out to the coffee shop again, Hannah found Lisa just hanging up the phone.

“I’ve got three,” Lisa said, holding up one of Hannah’s steno pads. “What do you think of celery sticks stuffed with peanut butter? Everybody served it at parties back then.”

“Okay. We’ve got plenty of peanut butter, but we don’t have celery. Put that down on our shopping list. One of us will have to make a quick trip to the Red Owl.”

“I’ll go,” Lisa said, “I’ll just call Florence and give her a heads-up, so she’ll let me in the back.”

While Lisa called Florence, Hannah took the notebook and looked at the other appetizers Lisa had listed. There was something that sounded interesting using olives, crackers, and cream cheese tinted with food dye. They could certainly make those. And there was no reason why they couldn’t take the stuffed celery idea and run with it. They could make a second type stuffed with flavored cream cheese, and a third stuffed with Mike’s Busy Day Pâté. All three would look nice on a platter.

The last appetizer was the most difficult and it all had to do with the timing. The ingredients were simple enough, just cream cheese mixed with minced onions and a little mayonnaise. The mixture was spread on crackers and the crackers were broiled just before serving so that the cream cheese would puff up. Hannah was sure they could handle that. Delores and Carrie had a toaster oven in their upstairs break room. All it would take was someone to man the toaster oven and they could have hot appetizers at the scene.

“So what’s on my grocery list,” Lisa asked.

Hannah explained about the three kinds of stuffed celery they could make, and then she read the list she’d made. “Celery, mayonnaise, horseradish, crackers, dried onions, braunschweiger, flavored cream cheese, and a can of tuna.”

“Okay.” Lisa took the list and headed for the back door, but she turned before she got there. “What’s the tuna for?”

“Moishe.”

“Because…?”

“He didn’t scratch Andrea.”

“I see,” Lisa said. “I guess I’d better pick up a can of salmon, too.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because he didn’t scratch me, either!”

CREAM CHEESE PUFFS

Hannah’s Note: If you’re not going to serve these right away, you can mix up the cream cheese part and refrigerate it until it’s time to spread it on the crackers.

8-ounce package cream cheese (the firm kind, not the whipped)

2 Tablespoons ( 1/8 cup) mayonnaise (We used Hellmann’s[***])

3 Tablespoons minced green onion

OR 3 Tablespoons minced dried onion

OR 3 Tablespoons minced shallots

1 beaten egg

A box of salted crackers (We used Ritz Crackers and they were great!)

Unwrap the cream cheese and put it in a microwave-safe bowl. Nuke it on HIGH for 30 seconds, or until it begins to soften.

Mix in the mayonnaise and stir until the mixture is smooth.

Mix in the onion. (If you use green onion instead of shallots or dried onion, you can use up to one inch of the stem.)

Mix in the beaten egg.

Lay out the crackers on a broiler pan, salt side up. (We used a disposable broiler pan so we could trash it at Granny’s Attic and we wouldn’t have to carry it back to The Cookie Jar.)

Spread the cream cheese mixture on top of the cracker in a circle that reaches the edges. Mound it slightly in the center. Use about two teaspoons of cheese mixture per cracker.

Position the rack approximately three inches below the coil of the broiler and turn it on HIGH. Broil the crackers (with the oven door open to the first latch so the broiler doesn’t kick on and off) until the cream cheese puffs up and is just starting to turn golden. This should take about 90 seconds if the rack is correctly positioned.

Let cool for a minute or two, so your guests won’t burn their tongues. Transfer the Cream Cheese Puffs to a platter and serve.

Yield: Approximately 2 dozen hot and yummy hors d’oeuvres.

Another Note From Hannah: I haven’t actually tried this, but I’m willing to bet a dozen of my best cookies that you could also add a quarter cup chopped smoked salmon to the cream cheese mixture.

Chapter
Eighteen

Hannah had just finished giving instructions to Luanne

Hanks, who’d offered to broil the Cream Cheese Puffs. “Michelle will cue Mother and she’ll beep you on the intercom when we need a batch. But are you really sure you want to be stuck up here while they shoot the fancy cocktail scene?”

“I’m positive. I don’t want to have anything to do with some of those movie people.”

Luanne wore a very determined look on her pretty face, and Hannah sensed a story. One of those movie people had caused some sort of problem for Luanne.

“Are you talking about any one movie person in particular?” Hannah asked, doing a little fishing.

“Mr. Lawrence. He’s a dirty old man, Hannah!”

The old classification took Hannah back a little, but then she remembered that Luanne was Michelle’s age, only twenty. Dean Lawrence, who was in his forties, would seem old to her. “He made a pass at you?” she asked.

“How did you know?” Luanne looked profoundly shocked. “I didn’t tell anybody.”

“It was a guess, but I figured it was a good one. From what I hear, Dean’s made a pass at almost every woman in town.”

“Even you?”

Hannah winced slightly. Luanne didn’t have to sound so incredulous. “Yes, even me. He’s a frustrated adolescent, Luanne.”

“You mean like the high school boys? When all they can think about is girls?”

“Exactly. Dean probably doesn’t mean anything by it. It’s just a game to him. And maybe they don’t mind his behaving like that in Hollywood.”

“Lake Eden isn’t Hollywood,” Luanne retorted, her eyes flashing with anger. “And I don’t appreciate grown men acting like high school boys.”

“Neither did some of the other women I talked to,” Hannah said, thinking about Lisa and how she’d almost poured hot coffee down Dean’s neck.

“Well…I guess it helps to know it’s not just me. And here I was, trying to figure out what I did to make him think I’d say yes when he invited me to his trailer. I thought maybe it was Suzie and the fact I had a baby without being married and all. But it’s just the way he behaves with everybody…right?”

“Just women. I think the guys in town are safe.”

Luanne gave a startled giggle. “Oh, that’s funny. Thank you, Hannah. You made me feel a lot better, but I still don’t want to get within ten feet of Mr. Lawrence. It’s insulting, you know? If he even looks at me crosswise, I’ll probably kill him.”

“Don’t do that. Just come and tell me. We’ll organize all the other women and run him out of town on a rail.”

“Do we even have a rail?”

“I’m not sure, but if we don’t, we’ll get one. Besides, he’s probably on his best behavior now that his wife’s in town.”

“I didn’t know he was married!” Luanne looked shocked. “He certainly didn’t act like he was. That poor woman! She must not know about what he does behind her back.”

“What makes you think that?” Hannah asked.

“Because if she knew, she’d either leave him or kill him, whichever one seemed better at the time.”

Hannah busied herself by filling the silver trays the movie waitresses would use for the cocktail scene. No one was here yet, but they were due to arrive any minute. As she placed stuffed celery sticks in a giant sunburst around the radish roses that Lisa had made, she thought about all she’d learned in the past several days about the movie business.

Her first revelation had been that movie scenes weren’t shot in sequence. Ross had come to Lake Eden to film the “hometown” scenes. Three were with Tracey playing Amy as a child, four were with Erica playing Amy as a teenager, and three were with Lynne playing Amy as an adult. Today’s scene, the second to the last in the movie, was the cocktail party. And even though Burke’s character would die in the scene they were shooting today, he’d be back tomorrow to play Jody walking arm in arm with Amy down the street.

Tomorrow would be another full day of filming. There would be a scene with Erica in her blue-and-white bedroom, a scene with Burke and Lynne visiting their “father’s” grave, and a third scene as they attended their “aunt’s” funeral. On Friday they would shoot a scene at the high school with the actor playing Jody as a teenager, the skating scene with Tracey in the park, and the final scene of the movie where an adult Amy, played by Lynne, said good-bye forever to Cherrywood and drove off to return to her husband and family.

Hannah finished the tray of stuffed celery and started to arrange the chilled Mini Cherry Cheesecakes. She’d also learned that there was no good time to deliver cheesecakes to Dean’s trailer. After that first morning, when she’d heard someone who’d sounded suspiciously like Erica leave by the rear door, she’d taken the precaution of calling Dean’s office before she left The Cookie Jar. But that hadn’t helped a speck. Every time she called, she got the answer machine and it was clear that Dean hadn’t heard even one of her messages. And each time she’d knocked on the trailer door, she’d heard a female voice and then a muffled curse from the Bad Boy Director. Several minutes later, Dean would open the door looking rumpled and very crabby, Hannah would step in, and then she’d hear the rear door open and close.

So far, in the course of her cheesecake delivery experience, she’d heard five women leaving Dean’s Winnebago. She couldn’t swear to it in a court of law, but she’d thought about the women’s voices she’d heard and come to some tentative conclusions. The first voice had sounded like Erica. There were just too many giggles for anyone else. And the voice on the second morning had sounded a whole lot like Lynne. After lunch, when she’d delivered the second cheesecake, Hannah was almost positive she’d heard Jeanette, Erica’s mother. Then there was the voice this morning, the voice that she really hadn’t wanted to recognize. She’d denied it at first, but now Hannah had to admit that the woman with Dean had sounded exactly like Andrea. It all tied in with what Dean had said as they’d left the school after Tracey’s spelling bee scene. Hannah sent up a silent prayer that she was dead wrong and her sister wasn’t involved with the Bad Boy Director.

This afternoon, when she delivered Dean’s second cheesecake, Hannah had recognized the woman’s voice. She was almost positive that it had been Honey, the head beautician. Even though Sharyn was now in town, his wife’s presence didn’t appear to be modifying Dean’s behavior one bit.

In spite of all this, Dean was a gifted director. Everyone in the cast agreed about that. What Burke had said in his interview was partly true. If Dean wasn’t getting the performance he wanted from an actor or actress, he was quick to step in and demonstrate what he wanted them to do. While he didn’t actually get dressed up in their costumes, he did occasionally use a hat, or a scarf, or some prop to enhance the illusion.

Only a few people were allowed in to watch the scene that was being filmed, and Hannah breathed a sigh of relief as she spotted Winnie Henderson.

“Hi, Winnie,” Hannah said, rushing up to her. “I need to talk to you after all this is over. Will you stop by The Cookie Jar?”

“Sure, but only if you promise not to mention the park. I’m sick and tired of people trying to talk me into signing off so those movie people can use it.”

“I can’t promise you that,” Hannah said truthfully. “But if you listen to what I have to say and you still say no, I’ll shut up and I won’t say another word about it.”

Winnie laughed good-naturedly. “Okay then. That’s fair enough. I’ll stop by if you save one of those little cherry cheesecakes for me. They look mighty tasty.”

“It’s a done deal,” Hannah agreed, borrowing Andrea’s favorite phrase. And then she excused herself and hurried off to check the extra coolers she’d brought to hold the little cheesecakes, in case the ones on the platters began to droop under the lights.

“We’re here!” a voice shouted out, and Hannah turned to see Michelle coming in with the cast and crew. Everyone who was in the scene was in full costume, including the extras, and Hannah watched her youngest sister and several other movie people as they helped the extras find their places and coached them on what to do.

They were all ready and waiting to go when Dean strolled in. He moved a few people, stepped back to look at the result, and nodded. While he was giving some last-minute instructions to Burke and Lynne, Michelle came over to stand with Hannah.

“Am I late?” Andrea asked, coming up to join them.

“No, it’ll be at least another ten minutes, maybe fifteen,” Michelle told her. “Where’s Tracey?”

“At home, doing her homework with Grandma McCann. When she’s through, they’re going to watch a movie.”

The three sisters stood there gazing at the scene for a moment. It was strange to see so many Lake Eden people dressed in fancy evening clothes in the middle of the afternoon. Hannah was the first to turn away and as she did, she noticed that both of her siblings were watching Dean Lawrence with identical hungry looks in their eyes.

Hannah shrugged slightly. She guessed she could understand their fascination with the director. He was handsome and as long as her sisters were just “window shopping,” that was fine with her. Dean looked slightly disheveled and wickedly charming. He would have been right at home in a pirate’s costume, ravishing women left and right.

Her attention shifted to a familiar figure who’d just walked in. It was Ross and as far as Hannah was concerned, he was much more appealing than Dean. It was true that he wasn’t quite as handsome, but her Grandma Ingrid used to say, Handsome is as handsome does, and Hannah thought she was right. Ross was a much nicer person than Dean and he cared about people other than himself.

“Hey, Shelly. Mike and I are here.”

Hannah turned to see Lonnie Murphy, Michelle’s significant Lake Eden other, standing behind them in full-dress uniform. It was dark blue instead of tan and maroon, the colors of the Winnetka County Sheriff’s Department, and there was a patch sewn on the shoulder that read CHERRYWOOD P. D.

Lonnie was smiling and Hannah smiled back. He was the only person who could get away with calling her sister, Shelly, a name Michelle absolutely despised. And the fact that Michelle didn’t seem to mind at all when Lonnie said it told a lot about their relationship.

Michelle turned and a big smile spread across her face. Hannah was relieved to notice that the look in Michelle’s eyes when she shifted her attention to Lonnie was at least a hundred watts brighter than the look she’d given Dean. Michelle had her priorities straight, but did Andrea? Hannah’s middle sister was still focused entirely on the Bad Boy Director.

Then something happened that caused Hannah to relax slightly. Sharyn Lawrence stepped onto the set and wove her way through the extras to greet her husband. Andrea stared at her for a moment and then she turned to Hannah.

“That’s Sharyn,” she said. “She’s Dean’s wife.”

“I didn’t know you’d met her.”

“I haven’t, but who else could it be? Dean said his wife had raven hair.”

“You’ve been talking to Dean about his wife?”

“Not really. He just happened to mention her, that’s all. We were talking about Tracey’s part in the movie.”

Hannah decided to take the bull by the horns. “Was that this morning when I knocked on the door at the Winnebago?”

“Uh…yes. Look, Hannah. Nothing happened.”

“Then why did you go out the back way?”

“He asked me to. He wanted to avoid any gossip, you know? I mean, since I’m married and all.”

That hasn’t stopped him in the past, Hannah thought, but she didn’t say it. She remained perfectly silent and waited for her sister to get uncomfortable enough to go on with her explanation.

“It’s just like I told you, Hannah. Nothing happened! Dean talked to me about Tracey’s part in the movie. He’s been just wonderful about advising us.”

Again, Hannah remained perfectly silent. It wasn’t easy, but the ball was in Andrea’s court.

“He said he called me in so early because he needed to talk to me privately. And that’s when he told me that he’s already chosen his next movie script and I’m perfect for one of the parts.”

“You?” Hannah asked, too startled to remain silent any longer.

“Yes, me. And he even offered to fly me to Hollywood for a screen test.”

Hannah stared at her sister in absolute shock. “Don’t tell me you fell for that old line! My married sister who’s totally in love with her husband, even though she’s momentarily ticked off with him for going off to Miami without her, wouldn’t be that naïve…right?”

“Of course not! I’m almost certain I’m not star material, and I recognize a line when I hear one. But it really was flattering, and I was tempted to say yes for a split second or two.”

“But you said no.”

“Of course I did. But Dean was very persuasive and now I can understand why so many women would do almost anything he asked them to do.”

“I’m just glad you’re not one of those women,” Hannah said. But before she could say anything else, the assistant director called for quiet on the set.

Some of the prop men hurried up to the set carrying champagne glasses and handed them to some of the guests at the cocktail party. Others didn’t get glasses and Hannah assumed that they would be approached by waitresses in the scene with their trays of filled glasses.

“Are they really drinking champagne?” Hannah asked her youngest sister.

Michelle shook her head. “It’s cream soda. We’ll do a couple of second unit inserts later with glasses being filled with real champagne.”

“Like the inserts Clark shot of Moishe?”

“That’s right. Excuse me a second, Hannah. Ross needs me.”

Michelle rushed onto the set and up to Ross, who’d motioned to her. A second later she headed for the door and came back with Mike in tow.

“Oh, boy!” Hannah said under her breath. Mike was a sight for sore eyes in his full-dress Cherrywood P. D. uniform. Actually, he was a sight for sore eyes in anything he wore, but she didn’t want to think about that right now.

Mike, his brass gleaming under the lights, followed Ross and Lloyd, the head prop man, as they led him to an ornate white desk trimmed with gold that sat in the corner of the room. It was a double desk, the kind Hannah had always wanted but wasn’t sure why, with room for two people to sit on either side and use it together. Hannah watched as Mike pulled out one of the center drawers and examined what was inside. Then he closed it again, exchanged a couple of words with Lloyd and Ross, and went back out through the living room doorway.

“What was he doing?” Hannah asked Michelle, who’d come back to stand by Andrea.

“He was checking the gun to make sure it was unloaded and Lloyd had removed the firing pin.”

“Is that the gun they use in the suicide scene?” Andrea wanted to know.

“That’s right.”

Hannah started to frown. “But it won’t make any noise at all without a firing pin.”

“That’s right. We’ll add the sound of a gun firing in post production.”

“Why not use blanks?” Andrea asked.

“Blanks are only safe if your target is a few yards away,” Hannah answered, remembering the way Ross had described the suicide scene. “Burke has to put the gun right up to his temple.”

“So?”

“Blanks have a primer and gunpowder inside a casing. It’s sealed with a wad of something that looks like shellac. When the gun’s fired, the wad can exit the barrel with enough velocity to kill Burke.”

“I didn’t know that!” Andrea breathed, shivering a bit.

“A lot of people don’t know that. The only reason I know is that Lisa told me.”

“How did she find out?” Michelle wanted to know.

“Herb teaches a class in gun safety.” Hannah was about to tell them about the television actor who was killed with blanks while pretending to commit suicide on a set, when she saw Delores giving her the high sign. “The Cream Cheese Puffs must be ready. Either that or Mother is trying out for the part of a windmill.”

Chapter
Nineteen

“I never wanted you to figure it out, but it really doesn’t matter anyway. He looked at me right before I shot him and I keep seeing that look in my dreams. It’s haunting me and I just can’t take it anymore.”

Burke pulled out the center drawer and reached for the gun, but before he could grasp it, there was an angry shout from Dean.

“Cut!” Dean shouted again. “What’s with you, Burke? You’re supposed to make people weep for you! Get up. I’ll show you what I want here.”

Burke looked very embarrassed as he rose to his feet. “I’m sorry, Dean. I don’t know what’s wrong, either. I just can’t seem to get the motivation right. I know Jody’s supposed to be at the end of his rope, but it’s just not working for me.”

“Why not? He’s been dealing with guilt for years and it’s taken its toll. He’s also sloshed to the gills. All you have to do is sell drunk and guilty.”

“I know. We talked about that, and I thought I could do it, but…” Burke stopped speaking and sighed. “My back hurts and I just can’t seem to get it right.”

Dean rolled his eyes at the rest of the cast. “Fine. I’ll show you how it should be done.”

“Thanks, Dean.” Burke moved to the edge of the set and watched as Dean walked toward the desk. But before he got there, the director stopped and turned to his cameramen. “Make this a three-shot. I’ve got the feeling we’re going to need it. The way Burke’s going today, I might have to put it on a loop and screen it for him all night.”

“That was nasty,” Hannah whispered to Michelle.

“And how! Dean’s not about to get nominated for the nicest guy in the movie business,” Michelle whispered back. “When this scene’s over, I’ll tell you what he said to me this morning!”

Hannah glanced at Delores and saw she was doing her windmill impression again. Hannah was about to head up the stairs to fetch more Cream Cheese Puffs when Andrea grabbed her arm.

“I’ll go,” Andrea offered. “I have to make a call anyway. I’ll bring the tray back down when this take’s over.”

“That’s fine with me.” Once Andrea had left, Hannah turned her attention back to the scene. Dean was getting a glass of cream soda champagne from one of the waitresses and when he turned around to face the camera, she had all she could do not to gasp. He looked glassy-eyed, as if he’d been indulging in strong spirits for hours. The illusion of extreme inebriation was embellished even further as he made his way unsteadily through the crowd to approach the antique partner’s desk where Lynne was sitting.

The adult Amy was deep in thought, staring down at the tray of Mini Cherry Cheesecakes that a waitress had left on the top of the desk without really seeing them. Hannah knew Lynne was supposed to be remembering what had happened on the night of her father’s suicide.

“Well, how about that…it’s Li’l Sis,” Dean said, stumbling slightly and catching himself on the corner of the desk. “Mind if I sit down?”

“Oh, Jody. You’re drunk! You’re just as drunk as Dad used to get whenever he threw a cocktail…” Lynne stopped and put both hands to her head, as if she could stop the memories from emerging. It was a perfect gesture and Hannah was impressed.

“You’re thinking about the night he did it?” Dean asked, slurring his words.

“Yes.”

“He was drunk that night, too. And you know what always happened whenever he was drunk.”

Hannah watched as Lynne gave a delicate shudder. Her face actually paled and Hannah could see the tears well up in her eyes. “I know, Jody. I remember.”

“I couldn’t let him do that again, Li’l Sis. No way. You understand that, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Lynne said and she looked profoundly sad. “It’s all right, Jody. Nobody else has to know what happened that…”

“But I know!” Dean interrupted, and Hannah almost jumped as he leaned forward over the desktop, coming very close to touching Lynne.

“I’ll never tell,” Lynne promised, a tear rolling down her cheek. “I promise, Jody. I’ll never tell a soul.”

“’Course not. Wouldn’t expect you to. But that doesn’t help a whole lot, Li’l Sis. I never wanted you to figure it out, but it really doesn’t matter anyway. He looked at me right before I shot him and I keep seeing that look in my dreams. It’s haunting me and I just can’t take it anymore.”

Dean pulled out the center drawer of the desk and grabbed the gun. He rose to his feet and was raising the revolver to his head when Lynne started to scream. Her scream wasn’t audible over the sound of the music and laughter from the merrymakers at the cocktail party. No one reacted in the slightest.

“No!” Lynne sounded positively panic-stricken. “I love you, Jody! Don’t do this to me!”

“I’m not doing it to you, Li’l Sis. I’m doing it for me.”

Once he’d delivered that line, Dean raised the gun to his temple and squeezed the trigger. The instant the hammer flew forward, there was a loud explosion. The earsplitting blast prompted several screams from the extras, and Hannah stood there staring, barely able to believe what she was seeing. Dean Lawrence, Hollywood’s Bad Boy Director, was lying facedown in the tray of Mini Cherry Cheesecakes, his legs slumped against the front of the desk and his arms dangling limply at his sides. There was no doubt in Hannah’s mind that he’d suffered the same fate as the character he’d been playing. The fake suicide of the movie had turned out to be all too real. The empty revolver without its firing pin had fired!

Chapter
Twenty

Even if she were so inclined, there was no way Hannah could get close to the mayhem on the set. People were yelling, screaming, pushing, and shoving to get away from the violent scene. Hannah stood where she was, not wanting to move until some sort of order was restored, and stared at the panicking actors and extras.

Was that a blue uniform in the middle of the melee? Hannah tried to see past an opaque lavender silk object that turned out to be Helen Barthel’s derrierre. Yes, it was Mike, towering head and shoulders above the diminutive Amber Coombs in her smart little cocktail waitress uniform. As Hannah watched, Mike made his way through the crowd and arrived at Lynne’s side. He spoke to her for a moment and Hannah saw him pick up the chair with Lynne still in it, and place it so that she was sitting a few feet away from the desk. A moment later, Mike had commandeered a Japanese silk screen and he moved it in place to block Dean’s body from everyone’s view.

Hannah was so shocked by what she’d just witnessed, her mind took a strange twist. She’d been planning to add Jane’s Mini Cherry Cheesecakes to her menu at The Cookie Jar, but now that was definitely out. Anyone who had seen the dreadful incident would never be able to look at the cheesecakes without remembering Dean’s last effort to play someone else’s part and his second-to-final resting place. It was really a shame, because the cheesecakes were very good and they would have looked lovely on a silver tray with a white paper doily and…

She was jerked back to the present by a piercing whistle. There was a second whistle, and then a third. And then she heard Mike’s voice.

“Stop! Stop right where you are!” he yelled, cupping his hands around his mouth in a makeshift megaphone. “Nobody move a muscle!”

Hannah watched in amazement as everyone did exactly as Mike had instructed. His was the voice of authority, and they needed some authority right about now.

“Let Deputy Murphy through, please,” Mike ordered, but in a softer voice. “I want complete quiet while we remove Mrs. Larchmont from the scene. She’s had a bad shock and she needs to rest.”

There was complete silence on the set. Those who knew what had happened were thankful they hadn’t been in Lynne’s place, so close to their director’s violent death. And those who didn’t know weren’t about to disobey an acting sheriff’s orders.

“As soon as Deputy Murphy leaves with Mrs. Larchmont, I’m going to divide you into groups. The deputies I’ve called in will escort you to three different locations to be interviewed. Everyone must wait there until a deputy takes his or her statement. Whether you actually witnessed the unfortunate incident or not, we need to interview you. Do you understand?”

There were assenting murmurs and Mike was about to go on when he was interrupted by a question from Lynne.

“Excuse me, but…I just have to ask. Dean…he’s…he’s dead, isn’t he?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Mike answered her. “Just go with Deputy Murphy and he’ll take care of everything.”

Hannah watched as Tom Larchmont approached Lonnie and asked him a question. Lonnie nodded and Tom joined them as they went out the door.

“I know this may inconvenience some people,” Mike went on, “but everyone here will have to be searched before they leave Granny’s Attic. It’s not that we don’t trust you, but it’s standard operating procedure with this many witnesses.”

There were the predictable grumbles and Mike spoke up again. “If you’re good boys and girls, we’ll make sure we have coffee at the three locations, and some snacks to tide you over. How’s that?”

The grumbles faded and a few people smiled at their acting sheriff. Mike looked pleased as he addressed them again. “Thanks, folks. Let’s all cooperate so I can get you home in a timely manner. And just let me add that you are the best-dressed witnesses that the Winnetka County Sheriff’s Department has ever interviewed!”

There were a few grins and a couple of tentative chuckles. Hannah couldn’t believe it. Mike had done such a good job of covering up the gruesome details that people were feeling much better. Mayor Bascomb, the ultimate politician in Hannah’s opinion, had nothing on Mike. If the first man of Lake Eden wasn’t careful, Mike might just unseat him someday!

Hannah hung back as Mike and the deputies he’d called to the scene arranged the extras and the movie people into three groups. One group was going to the community center, where Edna Ferguson would provide coffee and snacks. The second group would be held at Hal & Rose’s Cafe, and Rose had been alerted. The third group, the group that included the cast, the cameramen, and most of the movie people who’d been working at the scene, would be taken to The Cookie Jar where Lisa was waiting with fresh coffee and cookies.

It took awhile, but at last Hannah had a chance for a private word with Mike. She put all thoughts of how good he looked in the dark blue uniform out of her head and concentrated on asking the right questions.

“Do you think Dean committed suicide?” she asked, speaking softly so that the cameramen, who were loading up their equipment, wouldn’t hear her.

“That’s one possibility I can’t ignore, but I doubt it. Most people who shoot themselves don’t do it in front of movie cameras and dozens of actors and extras.”

“True.” Hannah was glad to learn that Mike had come to the same conclusion she had. “Then it’s murder?”

“That’s my guess.”

“Is there anything I can do to help you?”

“Yes,” Mike said, slipping his arm around her waist and pulling her close for a brief hug. “You can forget about investigating this on your own and let me handle it.”

Hannah turned the hug into a longer one than Mike had intended. It was partially because she liked to hug Mike and partially because she didn’t want to promise something she knew she wouldn’t do. “Which witness group am I in?”

“The Cookie Jar group. I’ll need you to help me with Mrs. Larchmont. She’s a friend of yours, right?”

“That’s right. I knew her in college.”

“Well, she’s very broken up over this whole thing and I don’t think we’re going to get much out of interviewing her.”

“I’m sure you’re right. She’s bound to be traumatized since it happened right in front of her.”

“I had Lonnie take her down to The Cookie Jar. Her husband’s with her and that should help. Anything you can say to help calm her down would be good.”

“Of course. How about Sharyn Lawrence? What group is she in?”

“She’s with Mrs. Larchmont and her husband. I understand he’s her uncle?”

“Right.” Hannah took a deep breath. She knew she was prying, but it was a question she had to ask. “Did she see the whole thing?”

“No. She told Lonnie she’d just left to get coffee for Dean. He always called for coffee after he finished demonstrating a scene, and she wanted to have it ready for him. She was upstairs in the break room with Luanne and Andrea when it happened.”

“Thank goodness!” Hannah said, but her mind was racing. Had Sharyn left just to fetch coffee for her husband? Or had she known the gun would fire and wanted to get as far away as possible?

Mike pulled out his notebook and Hannah took a deep breath. She was about to get interviewed.

“Did you see me check the revolver?”

“Yes.”

“Did you see anyone near the desk after that?”

Hannah shook her head. “No, but I was busy filling up trays with appetizers. After I finished, I went to stand with the other people who were watching. There were a lot of people walking around on the set, and I didn’t really start looking at the desk until Lynne walked over there and took her place.”

“Do you know of anyone who had a reason to want Dean dead?”

Hannah thought for a moment. “No one in particular. He wasn’t the easiest man to get along with, but I don’t know of anybody who’d actually murder him. And everybody agreed that he was a brilliant director.”

“But you knew people who didn’t like him?”

“Plenty, including me. Dean could lay on the charm, but he wasn’t a nice man. Ask anybody and I think they’ll agree with me. If he didn’t have everything just the way he wanted it, he could be nasty.”

“But you don’t think that’s a motive for murder?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it is. As you said before, you’re the detective.” Hannah marshaled her thoughts and asked a question. “It’s pretty obvious to me that someone switched guns. Do you agree?”

“Of course. They’re the same model and manufacturer, but the one I inspected didn’t have a firing pin. This one had bullets, and the revolver I checked wasn’t loaded.”

“Is that the reason you’re searching everyone before they leave?”

“That’s right. There was only one gun in that drawer, the one that killed Mr. Lawrence. Someone took the prop gun and replaced it with a working, fully loaded revolver. If nobody tries to remove the prop gun from the building, then it’s still here.”

“And it may have fingerprints on it?”

“It’s a possibility.”

“Here’s another possibility,” Hannah said, preparing to throw out a suggestion. “Do you think the bullet was meant for Dean? Or was it for Burke, who was supposed to be acting in that scene?”

Mike laughed and gave Hannah another little hug. “I love the way your mind works. The answer is, it could go either way. Someone who’s familiar with Dean’s work habits and knew that he usually demonstrated roles for his actors could have set the whole thing up to kill Dean.”

“And on the other hand, someone who didn’t know Dean’s work habits might have set it up to kill Burke?”

“That’s right.”

“So then we have to treat both Dean and Burke as victims and look at the people who have motives for killing either one of them?”

“Exactly, but what’s this we stuff?” Mike began to scowl. “I’m the detective here, not you.”

“I know that.”

“I know you know, but I want you to promise that you won’t investigate on your own.”

Hannah nodded, but that didn’t seem to be good enough for Mike. He was still scowling.

“I want you to promise out loud,” Mike insisted.

Hannah hesitated, but then she realized that Mike’s wording had given her an out. She gave him the sweetest, most guileless smile she could muster and said, “I promise I won’t investigate on my own.”

“Okay, ’nuff said.” Mike gave her another hug and a push toward the door. “Go back to The Cookie Jar. I’ll wait for Doc Knight and then I’ll come right over.”

Hannah stopped at the door where Rick Murphy was frisking the last of the witnesses. He took one look at Hannah, made sure the last witness was out of earshot, and shook his head. “I don’t need to search you, Hannah.”

“Yes, you do. Mike said you have to search everyone.” Hannah held her arms out to side and let Rick examine her pockets and frisk her for any weapon concealed on her person. “I want Mike to be sure I didn’t leave with that prop gun.”

Once she was outside on the sidewalk, Hannah started to grin. She’d promised Mike that she wouldn’t investigate on her own, and she wouldn’t. She’d just nose around and see what turned up, and she wouldn’t do that alone either…not when she had her two sisters, Norman, Delores, Carrie, and the rest of her extended family to help her!

Chapter
Twenty-One

When Hannah came in the front door of The Cookie Jar, she found her extended family already organized. Andrea and Lisa were making the rounds with coffee and cookies, while Carrie and Delores were handling hot water for tea and tea bags. They were listening so intently as they waited on the tables that Hannah imagined she could see their ears revolving like Moishe’s did when he heard the patter of tiny mouse feet in the space behind the walls.

Sharyn was sitting with Lynne and Tom Larchmont, and she was holding Moishe on her lap. Hannah took in Sharyn’s pale face and the tracks of recent tears on her cheeks, and wondered if Dean’s wife was truly grief stricken, or whether she was every bit as good an actress as Lynne was. If Sharyn had found out about Dean’s infidelities, she certainly had a motive to do away with her husband. And the fact that she hadn’t been there when her husband’s death had occurred could be either a stroke of luck, or an aversion to witnessing the gory scene.

Hannah’s attention turned to Lynne, who looked quite calm despite the trauma she must have endured. It couldn’t have been pleasant for her to see her director’s death. On the other hand, Lynne had never been squeamish in college and she probably wasn’t squeamish now. Hannah recalled that Lynne had been the one to set traps to get rid of the rodents in their apartment building, and she’d emptied them every morning. She’d even kept a record of what she’d called her “kills,” posting a tally sheet in the kitchen and marking off every successful snap of the bail. When Ross and Hannah had told her they thought it was a bit cold blooded to keep count, Lynne had just laughed at them. A pest was a pest, she’d said, and she didn’t mind exterminating them at all. Perhaps, in light of her college behavior, watching the end result of the gun switch she’d made hadn’t bothered Lynne that much at all and her show of horror and grief had been a brilliantly acted ruse.

Then there was Tom Larchmont to consider. Hannah eyed the distinguished, silver-haired man with some suspicion. She was almost certain that Lynne had been one of the early morning visitors to Dean’s Winnebago and had left by the rear exit. What if Tom had found out about Lynne’s visit to Dean’s trailer? Was he the type of jealous husband who’d murder Dean for dallying with his wife?

Hannah was just looking around for Connor, another man she’d labeled as a suspect, when Andrea and Michelle rushed up to her.

“We need a meeting,” Andrea said, grabbing Hannah’s arm. “Mother and Carrie promised to help Lisa hold down the fort here.”

“Let’s go to the kitchen,” Hannah suggested, but Michelle shook her head.

“We can’t. I just talked to Lonnie and Mike’s going to be using the kitchen for follow-up interviews. The other detectives are weeding out promising witnesses and sending them to Mike.”

“What are those?” Andrea wanted to know.

Hannah was curious. “Did Lonnie tell you what makes a witness promising?”

“I asked him that. He said they’re the ones who were in a position to see or hear something potentially important to the investigation, like anyone who was standing close to Dean, or the waitress who put the tray of Mini Cherry Cheesecakes on the top of the desk.”

“That would be Amber Coombs,” Hannah offered. “Dean told her to put it there, but I don’t know why.”

Andrea’s hand shot up, just as if she were still in school. “I know. I read the whole script. It was so Burke could fall face forward in the cheesecake after he shot himself. Except Burke didn’t shoot himself, Dean did. And that’s…really awful. I wonder if he had any…any…what’s that word, Hannah?”

“Premonition?”

“That’s it. I wonder if he had any premonition he’d be the one with his face in the cheesecake?”

All three sisters shivered slightly. It was a reminder of how quickly death could close in on an unsuspecting victim. They shared a moment of nervous silence and then Hannah broke it with a question.

“Are you ready to get down to business?” she asked. And when both of her younger sisters nodded, she went on. “Since Mike has dibs on the kitchen, we’ll use my cookie truck.”

“That’ll get chilly,” Andrea objected. “How about running across the street to Lake Eden Realty? I’ve got the key.”

A few minutes later, the three sisters were seated in swivel chairs around Lake Eden Realty’s oval conference table. Hannah had brought a thermos of coffee and a bag of her latest creations.

“What are these?” Michelle asked, biting into a cookie.

“Double Flakes.”

“Double flakes?” Andrea frowned slightly. “I can taste coconut and that’s one flake. But what’s the other?”

Hannah shook her head. “I’ll never tell. Just let me say that it’s something you wouldn’t expect to be in a cookie.” She flipped open the steno pad she’d carried across the street with her and pushed it across the table to Andrea. “Will you take notes?”

“You always ask me to write things down!”

“That’s true, but it’s because you have such good penmanship. If I take notes, my mind gets ahead of my fingers and I have trouble figuring them out later.”

“Okay, I’ll do it. But there’s a price.”

“What is it?” Hannah asked, expecting her sister to demand a whole batch of her favorite cookies.

“I want to know what the second flakes are.”

“No, you don’t. It’s a lot like Mystery Cookies. Once you find out what’s in them, you keep eating, and eating, and trying to taste it.”

Andrea made a big show of putting down her pen and flipping the steno pad closed. “If you won’t cooperate and tell me, then I won’t cooperate and take notes. Your unpaid personal secretary just quit.”

“Come on, Andrea. It’ll just drive you crazy.”

“No, it won’t. Trust me. Once you tell me, it’ll be all over. And then you’ll have perfectly legible notes.”

Hannah glanced at Michelle, who shrugged. “I think she’s got you over a barrel,” she said.

“All right,” Hannah conceded with a sigh. “I’ll tell you. It’s instant mashed potato flakes.”

“You’re kidding! I never would have guessed!” Andrea took another bite, and frowned as she chewed. “Are you sure? I don’t taste instant potato flakes.”

“I’m sure. I mixed up the dough myself.”

“Well, I still don’t taste them. Pass me another couple of cookies. Maybe the last one I ate was missing its potato flakes.”

Hannah and Michelle sat back and watched as the cookies disappeared one by one. Finally, on the last cookie, Andrea gave a nod. “I think I taste them, but I’m not really sure. You don’t have any more, do you?”

“Not here. I’ll make you another batch tomorrow.”

“That’s good enough for me,” Andrea said, picking up her pen and then giving a most unladylike burp. “Sorry about that. Now if one of you will pour me another cup of coffee, we can get this show on the road.”

“Do you really think Sharyn could have done it?” Michelle asked, watching as Andrea wrote her name on the list of suspects.

“I don’t know her well enough to tell,” Hannah said. “It all depends on how jealous she was. It also depends on what she knew.”

“What do you mean?” Michelle wanted to know.

“If she was the jealous type, but she didn’t know her husband was entertaining other women in his Winnebago, she’d have no motive to kill him.”

“I get it,” Andrea said, jotting it down. “And if she wasn’t jealous and she didn’t care if her husband was entertaining other women in his Winnebago, she wouldn’t have a motive, either.”

“Correct. For the purposes of this list, let’s say she was jealous and she knew. That’s a good motive for murder. And now we have to think about the women Dean entertained. They could have spouses or boyfriends who might be jealous enough to kill Dean.”

“Well, I’m off the hook,” Andrea said, taking another sip of coffee. “Bill’s in Miami and everybody knows it.”

Michelle’s mouth dropped open. “You mean you…”

“No!” Andrea interrupted. “But I did go to his trailer to discuss Tracey’s part with him. It’s a good thing Bill’s not in town. He might have gotten the wrong impression and then both of us would be suspects. But Bill’s not here and I’m in the clear.”

“If Bill’s not here, she’s in the clear,” Hannah repeated, and she started to grin. “If it doesn’t fit, you must acquit.”

“What?” both sisters asked at once, staring at her hard.

“Sorry. I just couldn’t help thinking of O. J.’s trial. That’s what the defense said.”

“But what does that have to do with…”

“Absolutely nothing,” Hannah interrupted her youngest sister. “It rhymed so I thought of it, that’s all. Let’s get back to business here. Can we think of any other women we can link with Dean?”

“Me,” Michelle confessed, guilty color rising to stain her cheeks. “He asked me to come to his trailer right after lunch yesterday. I thought he had work for me, but when I got there, he made a pass.”

“What kind of a pass?” Andrea asked.

“It was silly, really…the sort of thing only a fool would have believed. He put his arm around me and told me I was perfect for a part in his next movie. And he offered to fly me out to Hollywood so I could take a screen test. I guess he thought I’d be so grateful, I wouldn’t mind when he tried to kiss me.”

Andrea made a strangled sound and covered it with a cough. “Sorry, something was stuck in my throat.”

Stuck in your craw is more like it, Hannah thought and immediately felt mean. She poured more coffee for Andrea by way of apology for what she hadn’t said, and turned back to Michelle. “So what did you do?”

“I stepped away, and told him I was really flattered that he thought I had talent, but the smart move for me was to stay at Macalester and finish college.”

“That was a good way to deal with it,” Andrea said, recovering nicely. “But even though you turned him down, Lonnie could still have heard about it. He’s got a temper, and he was on the set, and…”

“Forget it,” Hannah advised her. “Lonnie would have punched Dean’s lights out, but he never would have killed him. I think it’s safe to assume that he didn’t know about the time Michelle spent in Dean’s Winnebago.”

Michelle looked thoughtful. “You’re right. If Lonnie wanted to kill Dean, he’d do it with his bare hands. He’d never switch guns and take the chance that someone else might get hurt. But I just thought of someone else to add to the list.”

“Who?” Andrea asked, her pen at the ready.

“Lynne. I know she was in Dean’s trailer a couple of times. He mentioned it on the set the other day. And she wasn’t happy that he mentioned it, either!”

“Okay. I’ve got her down. And if Lynne was there, we have to add her husband. His name is Tom, isn’t it?”

“That’s right,” Hannah said. “You’d better add Erica, too. I’m almost positive I heard her giggling that first morning when I delivered Dean’s cheesecake. And you’d better put down Jeanette, too.”

“Because she’d kill anybody that touched her daughter?” Andrea’s pen flew across the paper and then hovered over the motive column she’d drawn next to the column of names.

“That, too,” Hannah told her.

“But Jeanette might have another motive for killing Dean?”

“Oh, yes. I think I heard her in Dean’s trailer the next afternoon. I’m not positive, but it sounded just like her. I’m surprised Dean didn’t ask the rental company to install a revolving door at the back of his trailer.”

Andrea laughed. “That’s funny. I wonder if there’s anyone in Lake Eden that he hasn’t tried to pick up on.”

“Mother and Carrie?” Hannah suggested, expecting a big laugh.

“Maybe Carrie,” Michelle answered.

“Not Mother?”

“Not Mother,” Michelle said with a grin. “Dean got a little close to her when she was printing out the list of props they collected for him.”

“Uh-oh! What did she do?”

“She elbowed him in the stomach.”

“Hold on!” Andrea held out her hand palm first in the universal signal for stop and wait. “Did you say Mother printed out a list?”

“That’s right.”

“Then she has a computer?”

“She showed it to me last night,” Michelle said. “It’s a really nice laptop, a Pentium four, three-gig processor with an eighty-gig hard drive and a seventeen-inch screen. It’s got firewire and USB ports, and lots of peripherals…scanner, color printer, digital camera, external hard drive backup, you name it.”

Andrea gave a low whistle. “Did you hear that, Hannah? Mother got a computer!”

“I heard,” Hannah said, giving a groan worthy of a hippo mired down in a mud hole.

Michelle glanced from one older sister to the other. “Why is Hannah groaning like that?”

“Because she promised me she’d get a computer when Mother did.” Andrea gave a little laugh. “And Mother did.”

“Okay, okay,” Hannah gave in, although not gracefully. “I’ll talk to Norman right after the movie crew leaves and find out what kind to buy.”

Andrea’s cell phone rang and she put down her pen to answer it. She listened for a minute and then she sighed. “Okay, Lisa. We’ll be right there. Thanks for telling us.”

“Telling us what?” Hannah asked, already starting to gather up the coffee mugs.

“Mike just came in to interview the promising witnesses. When he noticed that we weren’t there, he asked where we’d gone.”

“What did Lisa tell him?”

“That we were here, across the street.”

“Uh-oh,” Hannah groaned. Mike was bound to be suspicious, especially since all three of them had left. “Did he ask Lisa anything else?”

“Yes, he wanted to know what we were doing over here when Lake Eden Realty was closed.”

“And what did Lisa say?”

“She said she didn’t know, that all you’d done was ask her to mind the shop while you went across the street with us.”

“Good girl!” Hannah said, breathing a bit easier. She hadn’t asked Lisa to lie for them before they’d left and that omission had been deliberate. There was no way she’d put her young partner in that position. Lisa might agree to bend the truth a bit if it was crucial, but she hated to lie. And even more important, to Hannah’s way of thinking, was the fact that Lisa was an extremely unaccomplished liar. No one would ever accuse Herb Beeseman’s new bride of having a poker face. Lisa’s countenance told the whole story. If she was angry, her eyes blazed and her color was high. If she was nervous, her hands shook and she licked her lips anxiously. If she was sad, her eyes welled up with tears and she sniffled without realizing it. If Hannah had asked her to lie for them, Lisa might very well have done it, but her voice would have trembled and she wouldn’t have been able to meet Mike’s eyes. Perhaps those two signs of a less than truthful statement might have escaped someone else’s notice, but Mike was a master interrogator and there was no way he would have missed it.

“So what do we say when we get back?” Michelle asked.

“We say…” Hannah’s mind whirled into high gear. She thought for a moment and then she started to grin. “We tell the truth. That’s bound to throw him off the track.”

“What!” Andrea gasped.

Michelle didn’t say anything. She was too shocked to do more than stare at her older sister.

“That’s right,” Hannah said, visibly warming to her idea. “We tell Mike the truth. We say we were over here talking about Dean’s murder and speculating on who might have done it. And then, when Mike wants to know if we questioned any of his witnesses, we tell him the truth and say no. We also add that it’s one of the reasons we came over here to talk about the murder.”

“Why?” Andrea looked confused.

“Because we knew he wouldn’t want any of the witnesses to overhear us talking about Dean. And there were so many people in The Cookie Jar, there wasn’t any place for a private conversation.”

“Brilliant!” Michelle complimented her.

“It certainly is.” Andrea gave a little smile. “And we’re not even lying. The only thing we’ve done is talk about it, and there’s no crime in that…is there?”

“I don’t think so,” Michelle said, turning to look at Hannah for the final word.

“I hope not.” Hannah handed the thermos to Michelle, took the notebook Andrea handed her, and stuffed it into her saddlebag-style shoulder purse. “So far, all we’ve done is gossip and if that’s a crime, Mike will have to lock up half the people in Lake Eden!”

DOUBLE FLAKE COOKIES

DO NOT preheat oven—dough must chill before baking

This recipe is from Lisa’s cousin, Betty Harnar. Betty’s cookies are slightly different than the ones we make at The Cookie Jar, so if you don’t like them blame us. If you love them the way the folks in Lake Eden do, please give Betty all the credit.

1 cup melted butter ( ½ pound, 2 sticks)

3 eggs

1½ cups white (granulated) sugar

2 teaspoons cream of tartar

1 teaspoon baking soda

½ teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon coconut extract (if you don’t have it, you can use vanilla)

1½ cups flour (no need to sift)

2 cups instant mashed potato flakes

1 cup coconut flakes, firmly packed

¾ cup finely chopped pecans or walnuts (measure AFTER chopping)

approximately ½ cup white sugar in a bowl for later

Melt the butter. Set aside to let it cool a bit. Crack the eggs into a mixing bowl and whip them up for a minute. They don’t have to be fluffy, just thoroughly mixed. Pour in the sugar and stir it up. Add the cream of tartar, baking soda, salt, and coconut extract. Mix well. Stir in the melted butter and then add the flour. Mix until the flour is thoroughly incorporated.

Measure out two cups of mashed potato flakes and mix them in. Add the coconut flakes. (If you’re like me and you don’t like stringy coconut, chop it up in a food processor with the steel blade before you add it to your bowl.) Stir in the chopped nuts and mix thoroughly.

Cover the dough tightly and refrigerate it for at least 4 hours. Overnight is even better.

When you’re ready to bake, preheat the oven to 350 degrees F., rack in the center position.

Form balls of cookie dough, 1 inch in diameter, with your hands. Roll the balls in granulated sugar and place them on a greased (I used non-stick cooking spray) cookie sheet, 12 to a standard-sized sheet. Flatten them a bit with a metal spatula or the heel of your impeccably clean hand.

Bake at 350 degrees F. for 10 to 12 minutes, or until cookies are golden around the edges. Cool on the cookie sheet for 2 minutes and then transfer the cookies to a wire rack to cool completely.

Yield: Approximately 8 dozen, depending on cookie size.

Mother likes these best as sandwich cookies. I spread one cookie bottom with chocolate frosting and sandwich another cookie on top. (The bottoms should be together, making the cookie sandwiches slightly convex.) Bertie’s customers down at the Cut ’n Curl like them best if the sandwich filling is raspberry jam. I think that’s because the chocolate melts if they eat them under the hair dryers.

Hannah’s Note: You’re really supposed to chill this dough, but if you absolutely positively can’t wait to bake them, you can. Just be prepared to wet your hands frequently as you roll the cookie balls so the dough won’t stick to them.

Chapter
Twenty-Two

For Hannah, who was beat to the bone, the rest of the afternoon seemed to drag on forever. As the witnesses were released they left the coffee shop one by one, but it was seven o’clock by the time the coffee shop was empty and Hannah waved Lisa out the front door.

Moishe was waiting, tethered to Hannah’s favorite round table by the window and she pulled out a chair to sit down. She petted her feline almost automatically as she gazed out the window and waited for Mike to finish his last interview in the kitchen.

Night had fallen and there wasn’t any traffic on Main Street. Everyone had gone home and now that six o’clock supper was only a memory, most folks were sitting in their living rooms or their family rooms, watching the latest sitcom. Another group of people, the ones who lived alone, were banded together at the Lake Eden Municipal Liquor Store, where the television set above the bar would be tuned to the Timberwolves as they took on the Miami Heat.

Hannah put her head down on the table and cradled it with her folded arms. She was just thinking about how nice it would be if she could be magically transported to the couch in her own living room when Mike came out of the kitchen followed by the subject of his last interview, Ross.

“Hannah?”

“Huh?”

“Hannah…wake up!”

“I’m awake.” Hannah looked up at Mike and blinked. “Can I go home now?”

Ross reached down to pat her shoulder. “Come out to the inn for dinner first. I just checked with Sally and she’s serving coq au vin until nine.”

Hannah glanced at Moishe, who looked every bit as tired as she felt and made a unilateral decision. “No thanks, Ross. Moishe and I are heading straight home. I don’t know when I’ve been so tired.”

“That’s my fault,” Mike said, reaching out to pat her other shoulder. “I should’ve taken those last couple of witnesses out to the station so you could go home.”

“S’okay,” Hannah said, slurring her words just a bit. The hard work she’d done and the sleepless nights she’d experienced had taken their toll. She was seriously considering turning out the lights and sleeping right there in the coffee shop rather than driving all the way home.

Hannah was barely awake enough to notice as Ross and Mike stepped back from the table. She heard their voices, but they must have moved away toward the back of the shop because she couldn’t make out what they were saying. They were probably talking about her, but she was simply too tired to care. She shut her eyes, nestled close to her purring cat, and drifted back off to sleep.

When Hannah opened her eyes again, she thought she was seeing triple. Three pairs of eyes were staring down at her. Then she realized that Norman had joined Mike and Ross, and she sat up, blinking. “Sorry about that. Guess I fell asleep.”

“I guess you did,” Mike chuckled as he handed Moishe to Norman. “Come on, Hannah. Ross is going to bring you your coat and things, and Norman’s going to drive you home.”

“But I don’t need anybody to…”

“Yes, you do,” Mike cut off her protest. “You’re tired and you could fall asleep on the road. I’d drive you myself, but I’ve got to get down to the station to file my reports. And I’ve got a briefing scheduled with Lonnie and Rick.”

Mike had said the magic words and Hannah woke up fast. He must have found out something if he had to brief Lonnie and Rick. This was a perfect time to pump him for information. Norman had taken Moishe back to the kitchen for one last trip to the litter box, and Ross had gone with him to get Hannah’s coat and purse. Hannah’s short nap had revived her, and she knew she’d never have a better chance to find out what Mike knew. “So you learned something from your interviews?” she asked.

“A couple of things. Number one, Miss Larchmont wants to direct.”

Hannah came close to laughing out loud. “Of course she does. There isn’t an actor or actress alive who doesn’t want to direct.”

“But she’s going to get the chance now that Dean’s dead. I interviewed Ross and he said he’s going to give her a shot at it.”

“Oh,” Hannah said and then she was silent. That put a new light on it. But had Lynne known she’d get the opportunity to direct if something happened to Dean? That was the important question. “Anything else?”

“The wardrobe mistress…what’s her name?”

“Sophie.”

“That’s right. Sophie said that Miss Larchmont and her husband were arguing in their room last night.”

“What about?”

“She doesn’t know. She was passing by and she heard angry voices, but she didn’t stick around to listen. She told me she decided it was none of her business and walked on down the hallway.”

Right, Hannah thought, but she didn’t say it. She’d find out what had really happened from Sophie tomorrow.

“I don’t know if that means anything, but we’ll add it to the mix,” Mike said. “And then there’s the set decorator.”

“What about him?” Hannah asked, seriously doubting that Jared would have had anything to do with Dean’s murder.

“One of the witnesses saw him close to the desk right before the first take.”

“That may or may not be important,” Hannah said, but she made a mental note to write it down in her shorthand notebook just as soon as she could. “Jared could have been rearranging something on the desk top.”

“Maybe, but it’s something I have to check out. And so far that’s about it. Nobody remembers, for sure, who went near the desk. It’s like you told me at Granny’s Attic. People didn’t pay any attention to the desk until the actors went over there.”

“Did you watch all the tapes? Maybe one of the cameramen caught someone fiddling with the desk drawer.”

“What tapes?”

Hannah stared at Mike in surprise. “I thought you knew. Dean taped all of his rehearsals.”

“Nobody told me!” Mike looked thoroughly astounded.

“That’s probably because they thought you knew. From what I heard, it was standard operating procedure. They taped it all, including the rehearsals where Dean played someone else’s part.”

“Thanks for telling me, Hannah,” Mike said, flipping open his notebook and jotting it down. “I’ll check with the head cameraman in the morning. Is there anything else you think I should know?”

Hannah shook her head. Mike looked very grateful for the information she’d given him and this was the time to ask her most important question. “How about the search at Granny’s Attic? Did you find the prop gun?”

“No.”

“But the killer couldn’t have taken it with him. They searched everyone, didn’t they?”

“Even Mayor Bascomb, and he wasn’t too happy about that.”

“I’ll bet he wasn’t!” Hannah said, giving an amused grin as she pictured their mayor, a man who was accustomed to giving the orders, being ordered to stand in line with everyone else to be searched by a sheriff’s deputy.

“So…either the prop gun’s still there and you haven’t found it yet, or the killer took it with him and left early, without sticking around to witness the result of his switch.”

“You’re right. And if the killer left early, he must have gone out the back way. Nobody came past me and I was standing right there by the front entrance waiting for my cue.” Mike stopped talking and his eyes narrowed. “It sounds to me like you’re thinking about investigating.”

“Absolutely not.”

“You promise?”

“You bet. I promise you that I won’t investigate.”

Mike was still staring at her and Hannah wondered if he smelled a rat. She’d told the truth the way she saw it, narrowly construed. He opened his mouth to ask another question, one Hannah hoped wouldn’t be too probing, when fate intervened in the form of Norman with her coat and her purse.

“Here you go, Hannah,” Norman said, handing over her parka coat and her shoulder purse. “Ross had to run back out to the inn. Somebody beeped him and he said it was important. He told me to tell you he’ll touch base with you later tonight or first thing tomorrow morning.”

“Okay,” Hannah said, pushing aside a little twinge of disappointment that Ross hadn’t come to tell her so himself.

“If you’re ready, I’ll load Moishe.”

“I’m ready,” Hannah said, standing up and letting Mike help her into her coat. The little nap she’d taken had done her a world of good. She wasn’t at all sleepy, but she certainly was ravenous and she could hardly wait to get home and make something to eat.

Twenty-five minutes later, as Hannah climbed the stairs to her condo, she sniffed the air. Unless she was hallucinating, someone was having Chinese food for dinner. She turned to Norman, who was right behind her, and asked, “What do you smell?”

“Chinese. Somebody’s having hot and sour soup, kung pao chicken, house special chow mein, pork fried rice, scallops with fresh mushroom, shrimp and snow peas, and one duck’s web plain, without the special soy sauce.”

There was a yowl from the cat in his arms and Norman laughed. “I think the Big Guy knows all about that last menu item.”

“He does. Whenever I order take-out Chinese, I always get one duck’s web without the special soy sauce for him. He loves to chew on it and chase it around on the kitchen floor.”

“So I heard. That’s why I ordered all that stuff, and asked your sisters to pick it up on their way here. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Mind?” Hannah’s stomach gave a mighty growl. “I don’t mind at all. You may have saved my life.”

“If you’re tired, we’ll leave,” Michelle offered, gathering up the white boxes that sat on Hannah’s big, round coffee table, closing the lids, and preparing to stash them in Hannah’s refrigerator.

“Actually…” Hannah paused to take stock of her mental state. “I’m not tired anymore. I think I got about twenty minutes’ sleep waiting for Mike to finish interviewing Ross, and it took the edge off.”

“Sometimes a twenty-minute nap is all you need,” Andrea said. “I read it in one of my parenting magazines.” She stopped and began to frown. “You’ve got to promise not to tell Tracey I said that. I have enough trouble getting her to bed at a reasonable hour as it is.”

You mean Mrs. McCann has trouble getting Tracey to bed, Hannah thought, but she remained silent. There was no way she’d take such a nasty shot at her sister.

“Of course now that Mrs. McCann is living in to take care of Bethany, I don’t have that problem,” Andrea went on, almost seeming to read Hannah’s mind. “Do you think I’m a bad mother for not staying home to take care of my daughters?”

“No!”

“Of course not.”

“Never.”

They all spoke at once, hotly denying that suggestion. All three of them knew that Andrea wasn’t cut out to be a stay-at-home mom. She was a consummate social being who needed the stimulation of other people to be happy and fulfilled.

“Good.” Andrea was smiling again as she opened the small white bag that sat in the center of the table and passed out fortune cookies. “Let’s all read our fortunes out loud. You go first, Michelle.”

Michelle broke her fortune cookie in half and drew out the folded strip of paper inside. “Aim for the stars to reach the moon.”

“That’s almost profound,” Norman said, cracking his cookie open. “Mine says, ‘Helping others is its own reward.’ How about you, Andrea?”

“True beauty is like the night.” Andrea wore a puzzled expression when she looked up from the strip of paper. “What does that mean?” Everyone shrugged and she gave a little laugh. “That’s what I thought. They must have left out a couple of words. What’s yours, Hannah?”

“I don’t really like fortune cookies.” Hannah pushed hers over to Norman. “I’ll trade you for your almond cookie.”

“Deal.” Norman said, handing over his almond cookie. “If you’re up to it, Hannah, we want to talk some more about Dean’s murder. I’ve got some ideas.”

“Fine with me,” Hannah said, reaching for her purse. She got out the steno book they’d used earlier at Lake Eden Realty and shoved it across the table to Andrea.

“You’re sure you’re not too tired?” Michelle looked concerned.

“I’m positive. I couldn’t sleep through that racket anyway.”

All four of them turned toward the kitchen, where Moishe was trying to spear the duck’s web with his claws and drag it out from behind the garbage can. He yowled every time he failed, but he didn’t stop trying.

“So what did you get out of Mike?” Norman asked after crunching a bite of his fortune cookie. “Ross said you talked to him while we were in the kitchen.”

“Lynne wants to direct and Ross is going to give her the chance now that Dean’s dead. That’s another motive for her, Andrea.”

“Got it,” Andrea said, flipping the notebook open to the list of suspects and adding a second motive for Lynne. “Anything else?”

“Mike didn’t know that Dean taped all his rehearsals. I told him and he said he’d check the tapes in the morning.”

“Then I’d better call Clark.” Michelle got out her cell phone and punched in a number. “He’s in charge of collecting all the tapes. I can always run out to the inn and screen them if you think they’re that important.”

Hannah nodded. “Good idea. You’d better call Mother and tell her where you’re going. She’ll worry if you stay out at the inn too late.”

“No, she won’t. She told me to come and go as I please.”

Andrea exchanged glances with Hannah. “That doesn’t sound like the Mother we know and love,” she said.

“I know. She also told me she’ll have dinner with me, but she has her own plans after dinner every night this week.”

Hannah started to frown. “I wonder what plans she could have. There aren’t any club meetings. They all canceled their activities until the movie company leaves town.” She turned to Norman. “Are the mothers going somewhere together at night?”

“No. Except for the night they went out to dinner with you and Ross, my mother’s been home watching television.”

“Then what’s Mother doing?” Andrea looked worried. “You don’t suppose it’s another man, do you?”

“It’s possible, I guess,” Hannah conceded.

“But right after Winthop? I mean…wouldn’t you think she’d wait?”

“For what? Old age to set in?”

Andrea’s mouth dropped open, but Michelle and Norman started to laugh. They laughed so contagiously that Andrea had to join in, and eventually so did Hannah.

“Do you want to know what else I found out from Mike?” Hannah asked when the laughter had died down. There were nods around the round table and she picked up the thread of their former conversation. “Mike said his deputies searched everyone who left Granny’s Attic, but they didn’t find the prop gun. They also made an initial search of Granny’s Attic and it wasn’t there, either.”

“But it has to be!” Andrea exclaimed. “Guns don’t just vanish.”

“You’re right, they don’t. And they’ll search again tomorrow. But there’s also the possibility that whoever switched the gun left early and took the prop gun with him.”

“Winnie Henderson,” Norman said.

“What?”

“I saw her driving down Main Street after they’d already started shooting. I know her daughter was in that scene and I thought it was odd she’d leave before it was over.”

“Got it,” Andrea said, writing it down. “What else?”

“There’s the question we didn’t get around to discussing this afternoon.” Hannah took a bite of her cookie. As far as she was concerned, her almond cookies were a lot better than the commercial kind.

“What question is that?” Norman asked.

“Whether the killer actually meant to murder Dean. Or if his intended target was Burke.”

“That’s good, Hannah!” Michelle sounded very impressed. “You’re absolutely right and I bet no one else will even think of it. We’re probably light years ahead of the official investigation.”

“No, we’re not. I mentioned it to Mike.”

There was silence for a moment while the other three stared at her incredulously. It made Hannah so uncomfortable, she started to try to explain. “I know I probably shouldn’t have said anything, but he is the investigating officer. And I was really rattled. It happened at Granny’s Attic right after the murder and…”

“That’s okay,” Norman soothed her. “It isn’t supposed to be a contest.”

“True,” Andrea said, “although it seems like it most of the time.” She turned to Michelle. “Don’t you think it seems like a contest?”

“I think it does,” Michelle agreed. “But what we’ve all got to keep in mind is that it doesn’t really matter who catches Dean’s killer as long as someone does.”

Norman reached out to squeeze Hannah’s hand again. “Michelle’s right. And besides, we have your fortune to consider.”

“My fortune?”

“I saved it for you when I ate your cookie. It says Redhead with big mouth is still better detective than tall man in uniform.”

Chapter
Twenty-Three

“I think I should have changed places with Norman. I could have driven Michelle out to the inn and helped her go through the tapes.”

“You said you thought it would be boring,” Hannah reminded her sister.

“I’m changing my mind about boring. It’s not that bad and at least it’s safe.”

Hannah didn’t say a word as Andrea pulled over to the side of the gravel road that led past the Henderson farm. Her sister was right. What they were about to do was far from safe. Winnie had a shotgun and she wasn’t afraid to use it. And Winnie didn’t take kindly to intruders.

“Why are we doing this, again?” Andrea asked as she got out of her Volvo and pocketed the keys. She had driven to their destination after they’d decided that Hannah’s cookie truck was too easy to identify.

“We’re doing this because Norman said he saw Winnie driving down Main Street only minutes before the incident at Granny’s Attic. And I saw Winnie earlier, watching Alice waltz around on the cocktail party set.”

“So she was there and she left before Dean…” Andrea’s voice trailed off and she shuddered.

“That’s right.”

“And because she left early, she wasn’t searched. And that means she could have switched the revolvers and taken off with the prop gun. And nobody would be the wiser.”

“You got it.”

Andrea gave a deep sigh as she trudged up the one-lane road to the farm. They could see the house in the distance, gleaming alabaster white in the bright, cold rays from the halogen yard light.

“I wish I’d worn boots,” Andrea groused, glancing down at her sneaker-clad feet. “The ground’s still frozen and the bottoms of my feet are cold.”

“It’ll be warm in the barn.”

“You’re right. I forgot that barns were heated.”

Hannah didn’t bother to correct her sister. Strictly speaking, Andrea was right. Barns were heated. They were kept warm by herding in all the cattle, keeping them together in a closed space, and utilizing their body heat. When it came to barns in the winter, BTUs stood for Bunched Together Until Summer.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Andrea asked, stepping over a frozen rut in the road.

“It’s probably a bad idea, but somebody’s got to do it.” Hannah eyed the farmhouse again. “I don’t see any lights on in the house. Do you?”

“No, it’s dark. Winnie’s probably been in bed for hours. She told me once that she gets up at five. Can you imagine getting up that early?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Of course you can. I forgot that you get up early, too.”

Hannah didn’t say anything. Now wasn’t the time to give Andrea any grief about sleeping in. As they walked closer, Hannah noticed that Winnie’s sedan and her pickup truck were parked in the driveway. The house was perfectly silent, and the only things moving were the shadows from wispy clouds scuttling across the moon.

“Why don’t we tell Mike what we know and let him look for the gun?” Andrea suggested, not for the first time.

“I told you before. Mike can’t get a search warrant on speculation alone. And he can’t search anywhere without a warrant. If we don’t do it, nobody will.”

In the pale, blue light of the moon overhead, Hannah could read her sister’s expression. Andrea was seriously considering that option.

“Don’t even think about backing out now,” Hannah told her sternly. “You’re the one who told us that Winnie hid her valuables in the barn.”

“Yes, but I didn’t know I’d have to come out here and look for them! What if Alice made up the whole thing? Lots of kids fib when they’re in grade school.”

Hannah knew her sister was trying to bail out, but they’d come too far to give up now. Andrea had gone to school with Alice Henderson and she’d told them about what Winnie’s youngest daughter had brought to class for Show and Tell. Hannah was pretty sure Alice’s story was accurate. It sounded like something Winnie would do. “But Alice showed you the gold medallions Winnie won for her prize cows, didn’t she?”

“Yes, but maybe Winnie didn’t keep them hidden in the barn. Alice could have fibbed about that.”

“Why would she fib?”

“I don’t know. And I guess maybe she didn’t. The plastic bag with the medallions smelled a lot like…you know…the kind of smell you’d smell in a barn.”

“Let’s just hope Winnie still uses the barn for a safe. And we can also hope she stashed the prop gun there and hasn’t gotten rid of it already. It’s a long shot, but we have to look.”

“I wish it wasn’t we,” Andrea muttered, taking a deep breath as they stepped up to the front of the barn. “How are we going to get inside, again?”

Hannah explained for the third time that evening. “The door slides to the side and it’s got a counterweight. I’ll pull it open just far enough for you to slip inside. If I open it up all the way, it’ll probably make a loud screeching noise. Most farmers don’t grease the barn doors on purpose. It’s like a burglar alarm.”

“Smart,” Andrea said.

“And a lot cheaper than hiring an alarm company. Once you’re inside, I’ll let the big door close and you’ll use your flashlight to walk to the small door and unlatch it.”

“Right. There’s just one thing.”

“What?”

“Aren’t the cows going to see me when I come in?”

“I don’t know. Why?”

“Well, what if they don’t like me and they start doing what they do in Away in a Manger.”

“Huh?”

“You know…when the cattle are lowing. What’s lowing anyway?”

“That would be mooing.” Hannah thought fast. If her sister suspected that the cows would be awake, she might refuse to go inside the barn. “I don’t think you have to worry about any mooing, or lowing, or whatever. The cows are probably sleeping. They get up early, you know.”

“You’re right. I saw that commercial where the rooster wakes them.” Andrea stopped and took a deep breath. “Okay, Hannah. I’m as ready as I’m ever going to be.”

“Watch out for the trench by the door. That’s for the runoff when they clean the barn.”

“Run-off?”

“Never mind. Just step carefully, that’s all. The minute you’re inside, I’ll go stand by the small door.”

Hannah used every muscle she had to push open the heavy door so her sister could slip inside. Once Andrea was safely past the trench and she’d snapped on her flashlight, Hannah let the door close and tromped around the side of the barn to the smaller door. There she waited. And waited. And waited. She was about to go back and try to force open the big door again when she heard Andrea draw back the latch, and the smaller door opened.

“What happened to you?” Hannah asked, frowning at the sight of her sister in the moonlight. Andrea had several globs of hay stuck in her hair and even more on her pants and jacket.

“One of the cows woke up and lowed at me, and I got scared and fell down. I didn’t fall in anything really…um…messy, did I?”

Hannah turned on her Maglite and surveyed the damage. Messy didn’t begin to cover it. There was something on the back of Andrea’s pants that Hannah didn’t even want to try to identify and more of the same was stuck to the back of her hair.

“Hannah?” Andrea prompted, looking slightly sick. “It’s not that bad, is it?”

“It’s not that bad,” Hannah said, lying through her teeth, and breathing through her mouth while she was at it. Whatever Andrea had fallen in was pungent. “Let’s search the bullpen and get out of here so you can get cleaned up.”

“Bullpen? How do you know Winnie’s hiding place is in the bullpen?”

“I figured it out from what you told us. You said Alice told the class she had to climb over a rail to get it, and it was in a box on the wall of a big pen. All the farmers around here keep their bulls penned up when they’re in the barn.”

“How do you know so much about farms, anyway?”

“I spent a lot of time on Grandma and Grandpa Swensen’s farm. I used to love going out to the barn with Grandpa and hand-feeding silage to the cows.”

“I don’t remember that.”

“Of course not. You were just a baby and you stayed in the house with Grandma.” Hannah stepped inside the barn and shut the door. “Walk down the center aisle, Andrea. That way we’ll avoid the muck.”

“What’s…never mind,” Andrea said, obviously thinking better of the question she’d been about to ask. “I see two pens way down there at the end. One’s empty and the other has a cow in it.”

“That’s a bull,” Hannah pointed out as they got closer.

“How can you…never mind,” Andrea said again, deciding she preferred to be zip for two with her questions. “I’ll check the empty pen and you can check the other one.”

Hannah smiled. She’d expected no less. “Go ahead. I’ll wait to see if you find anything before I tackle the bullpen.”

As they walked down the center aisle of the barn, Andrea let her flashlight play over the cows. “They’ve all got signs hanging above their places,” she said. “Look, Hannah. This black-and-white cow is Daisy. And this brown one is Buttercup. And here’s Petunia, and…drat!”

“There’s a cow named drat?”

“No. I was reading the names and I forgot to look where I was going. I almost stepped in some dirt.”

There was no way Andrea could get any dirtier, but Hannah didn’t want to remind her of that. She just grinned and followed in her sister’s wake to the very rear of the barn.

The empty pen didn’t take long to search. Andrea lifted the lid on the wooden box, checked for contents, and came rushing back out again. “There’s nothing there. You’re up,” she announced.

“We’re up,” Hannah corrected her. “I’ll go in, but I need you to distract the bull.”

“How am I supposed to do that?”

“Talk to him, pet him on the head, give him a cookie, whatever. Just keep him focused on you while I climb in and check the box.”

“I don’t have any cookies.”

“Yes, you do,” Hannah reached into her pocket and pulled out a bag of day-old cookies. She’d grabbed them from her cookie truck along with her Maglite before they’d left the condo.

“What kind are these?”

“Assorted. Lisa emptied what was left in the serving jars. Just keep trying until you get to one the bull likes. And then feed it to him slowly, to give me time to get in, check the box, and get back out.”

“Okay, I guess.” Andrea started to move to the front of the pen, but she stopped and turned back to Hannah. “I can’t talk to him if I don’t know his name. And there’s no nameplate on his pen.”

Hannah thought fast. “Call him Larry.”

“His name is Larry?”

“Absolutely,” Hannah said, crossing the fingers on her left hand to negate the lie.

“Winnie told you that?”

“You bet,” Hannah said, crossing the fingers on her right hand.

“And you remembered?”

“Of course.” Hannah was running out of fingers and she gave Andrea a little shove toward the front of the pen. “Hurry up. We haven’t got all night.”

“Hi, Larry,” Andrea said, in the same tone of voice Hannah had heard her use with Bethany. “Are you hungry? I bet you are. Just look at what I’ve got for you! Try an Old Fashioned Sugar Cookie. It’s got colored sugar on it and you’re really going to like it.”

Hannah was beginning to have second thoughts. Andrea didn’t sound very confident. To tell the truth, Hannah wasn’t very confident, either. She knew nothing about Winnie’s bull. Some bulls were gentle and complacent, but others were aggressive and mean. Hannah wouldn’t know what type of bull Winnie had until she got into the pen with him. And by then, it would be too late to do anything about it.

“Don’t you like sugar cookies, Larry? Okay, they’re not my favorites, either. Let’s try a Chocolate Chip Crunch Cookie. That’s got cornflakes in it and I’ll bet you like cornflakes for breakfast. Or maybe Winnie doesn’t give you cornflakes. How about oatmeal? I think I see one of Hannah’s Oatmeal Raisin Crisps.”

Hannah tested the gate. It wasn’t locked. She could step in at any time. She did her best not to think about the dire consequences that could follow her action, but her mind continued to drown her in a cascade of scenarios. The bull would attack her, pin her to the rails, and gore her. That was the first scenario. The second scenario had the bull turning on Andrea and attacking her instead of Hannah. But if that happened, Hannah would still be in danger because Bill would attack her the minute he got back from Florida. The third scenario was a little less ugly but equally scary. The bull wouldn’t attack anyone, but he’d start bellowing, and Winnie would come out with her shotgun and shoot both Hannah and Andrea. There was also a fourth scenario and Hannah liked that one the best. The bull would fall in love with Hannah’s cookies, become her mascot at The Cookie Jar, and sit beside Moishe on one of the tables by the front window, sniffing cookies the way Disney’s Ferdinand had sniffed flowers.

“Hannah!” Andrea’s voice roused her from the last and most ridiculous scenario. “What are you waiting for? Larry likes Peanut Butter Melts and I’ve only got two left!”

“Okay,” Hannah said and opened the gate to the pen. She slipped inside, went straight to the box on the wall, and opened it. “Jackpot,” she breathed, pulling out a plastic bag. But it was far too light to include a gun, even a prop gun. They’d struck out and put themselves in danger for nothing!

“Hurry, Hannah. I’m on the last cookie and Larry doesn’t like anything but peanut butter.”

“Okay. I’m almost through.” Hannah exited the bullpen without incident and made sure the gate was securely latched behind her. She was just preparing to give Andrea the bad news when all the lights in the barn went on.

“Freeze, you varmints! I’ve got you covered six ways to Sunday!”

Hannah glanced toward the door to see Winnie heading toward them, a shotgun cradled in her arms. She was about to raise her arms in surrender and advise Andrea to do the same when she realized that Winnie wasn’t wearing her glasses.

“Down,” she hissed, pushing her sister down in the hay. “Follow me. We’ll hug the side wall of the barn and crawl out.”

“But…won’t Winnie see us?”

“She can’t see a thing without her glasses and she’s not wearing them. Just follow me. It won’t be pretty, but we’ll make it.”

Truer words were never spoken. By the time they’d crawled through the feed trough that ran along the outside of the stanchions, Hannah and Andrea were covered with liquids and solids that would give a microbiologist a nice workout.

The smaller door was standing open and Hannah raised her head to check on Winnie’s whereabouts. “Run!” Hannah hissed, grabbing her sister’s hand and pulling her through the open door.

Both sisters were breathing hard by the time they arrived at the Volvo. Andrea used her remote to open the door, and she was about to slide into the driver’s seat when she looked down at herself. “Yuck!”

“And another yuck for me,” Hannah said, realizing that she was just as filthy as Andrea. Do you have any blankets in the trunk?”

“Of course I do! I have two thermal blankets. They’re part of my Minnesota Winter Driver Survival Kit. Bill puts it together and he doesn’t let me take it out of the trunk until June.”

“Smart man,” Hannah said, recalling that they’d once had a blizzard in May. “You take one blanket and I’ll take the other. We’ll sit on them so we won’t get your upholstery dirty.”

“What is this stuff, anyway?” Andrea asked, popping the trunk and taking out the blankets.

“It’s muck. Drive straight to my place and we’ll take showers.”

“A shower would be good, but I don’t have any clean clothes with me.”

“Michelle left a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt the last time she stayed over. You can use those.”

“But…maybe I should just go home.”

“And let this muck dry on you? Don’t be silly, Andrea. Cow pies are like plaster. Once they set, nothing less than a flamethrower can dislodge them.”

“Cow pies?” Andrea turned to her sister in shock. “Are they the same as muck?”

“Pretty much. At least in our case.”

“Well, why didn’t you say so in the first place?! Hang on and we’ll be at your place in less than ten minutes!”

Chapter
Twenty-Four

“You look like you’ve been through the wars,” Lisa said when Hannah came into the kitchen of The Cookie Jar the next morning.

“That about covers it.” Hannah headed to the sink to wash her hands.

“Where’s Moishe?”

“Home sleeping. He doesn’t have any scenes today.”

“I bet he’ll miss all the attention he gets when he’s here.”

“I don’t think so,” Hannah replied, reaching for the soap. “When I told him he didn’t have to come to work with me today, he licked my hand and then he burrowed under the blankets and hid at the bottom of the bed.”

“He must have needed a day off. And speaking of days off, I think you should have taken one. Were you out late last night investigating?”

Hannah shook her head as she lathered up. “I don’t investigate.”

“You don’t?”

“Absolutely not. Only an investigator can investigate. I’m just a small-town snoop.”

Lisa laughed. “Still arguing over semantics with Mike?”

“No.” Hannah rinsed her hands, thought about it for a minute, and then she nodded. “Yes.”

“Let me see if I’ve got this right. You promised Mike you wouldn’t investigate, but you didn’t promise him that you wouldn’t snoop?”

“Something like that.”

“That’s my partner!” Lisa crowed, well pleased with her ability to figure it all out. “So where did you snoop last night?”

Hannah dried her hands and headed for the work island. Lisa was mixing up a batch of Boggles, and the recipe for Cinnamon Crisps was next in line on the recipe holder. “Andrea and I did a little B and E.”

“Breaking and entering?” Lisa looked shocked when Hannah nodded. “Where?”

“Winnie Henderson’s barn.” Hannah headed off to the walk-in cooler to get the butter and the eggs. Once she’d carried them back to her workstation, she gathered the dry ingredients from the pantry and arranged everything in order. She was ready to start mixing the dough when she realized that Lisa was still staring at her. “What?”

“Why?” Lisa countered.

“Why what?”

“Why did you and Andrea break into Winnie Henderson’s barn?”

“Winnie left the dress rehearsal early, so she wasn’t searched. She’s familiar with firearms, and a couple of her husbands had nice gun collections that might have included revolvers that resembled the prop gun. She didn’t want Dean to use the park for the skating scene, and Dean was the kind of guy who wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

“And that’s a motive?”

“It’s a pretty good one. Winnie could have figured that a real suicide on the set would shut the movie down. Then Ross and his company would leave town.”

“Makes sense,” Lisa said, getting out another of the large stainless steel mixing bowls they used and grabbing the next recipe on the rack. “You can ask her some probing questions when she comes in at noon.”

“Winnie’s coming here?”

“That’s what she said when she called this morning. She apologized for not coming in yesterday, but she had to rush home to meet the vet.”

Hannah thought about that for a moment. Winnie had cattle, horses, several dogs, some cats, and a flock of chickens. With that many animals, it was certainly possible that one of them had required medical attention. The excuse was reasonable, but that didn’t necessarily mean it was true. “What was wrong?”

“The bull had some sort of intestinal upset and it made him really ornery. Winnie said he’s usually pretty good-natured, but not yesterday. It took Winnie, the hired man, and four of the neighbors to subdue him so the vet could give him a shot of antibiotics.”

Hannah felt her stomach drop down to her knees and come slowly back up again. She’d gone into the pen with a sick, ornery bull and he could have gored her six ways to the center. Her sister had handed that same sick, ornery bull homemade cookies and heaven only knew what that had done for his intestinal problem.

“The good news is the bull’s fine today. Winnie said that when she went out to the barn this morning, he was as quiet as a lamb. That shot the vet gave him must have worked.”

Forget the shot, Hannah said under her breath. My money’s on the five Peanut Butter Melts that Andrea fed him.

Winnie slid onto a stool at the work island and accepted the mug of coffee that Hannah poured for her. “I sure can use some wake-me-up,” she said. “I kept hearing noises in the barn last night.”

“Really?” Hannah asked, placing two mini cherry cheesecakes on a napkin in front of Winnie and hoping she looked more innocent than she felt.

“That’s right. I could have sworn somebody was in there, but when I checked, everything seemed okay. ’Course I couldn’t see much without my glasses.”

“What happened to your glasses?”

“I knocked ’em on the floor when I jumped out of bed and I couldn’t find ’em until this morning.” Winnie took another sip of her coffee. “I apologize for not getting here yesterday, but I had an emergency. Did Lisa tell you about Larry?”

“Larry?”

“My bull. The grandkids named him.”

Hannah had all she could do not to laugh out loud. The bull’s name was Larry, so she hadn’t been lying after all! It couldn’t be a coincidence. She must have heard Winnie mention it and it had stuck in her mind. “Yes, Lisa told me. I’m glad Larry’s better now.”

“Guess you’re not going to try to talk me into letting them use the park.”

“Why not?”

“Use your head, girl! Now that their big-shot director is dead, they’ll be packing up and leaving town.” Something in Hannah’s expression must have tipped her off, because Winnie cocked her head and stared at Hannah curiously. “Won’t they?”

“I don’t think so. At least that’s not what I heard last night. Most of the important scenes have already been filmed, and there are only four to go. Lynne Larchmont is going to direct those.”

“You mean they still want to use the park?”

“That’s right. I hope you’ll let them use it, Winnie.”

Winnie gave a deep sigh. “I said they could use it if they didn’t move the statue my brother made of the first mayor, but that highfaluting director wanted it out of the way. He said it would ruin the shot. He wanted to move it clear over by the bandstand. I figured for sure they’d break it and Arnie put a lot of work into making it. It’s the only thing of his I got left.”

“Maybe they don’t have to move it that far. How would you feel about it if they just hoisted it up out of camera range?”

“You mean…they could just pick it straight up and leave it dangling in the air while they did whatever they had to do?”

“That’s exactly what I mean.”

Winnie considered that for a minute and then she shrugged. “I don’t know what to say. Would I still get the money?”

“I’ll have to check for sure, but I think so.”

“Well just between you and me, it would sure come in handy right now. Elmer Petersen over in Eagle Bend’s selling off twenty head, and he’s got a couple of Jerseys I wouldn’t mind mixing in with mine. They’re good producers according to Betty Jackson over at the dairy.”

“So you’ll agree if you get the money?”

Hannah was wise enough not to say a word as Winnie thought it over. The seconds ticked by so slowly it seemed that time had stopped, but finally Winnie gave a little nod. “I’ll sign that paper if they swear they’ll just lift up the statue and put it right back down again when they’re through. No moving it anywhere. Just up and back down. And I’m going to be right there to make sure they do it right.”

“I’ll call Ross and find out if it’s a deal,” Hannah promised, refilling Winnie’s coffee cup and then heading for the phone.

“Hi, Hannah,” Ross said, answering on the first ring of his cell phone. “I was just about to call you.”

“Well, I beat you to it. I’m sitting here with Winnie Henderson and she’s going to sign that release form to use the park as a location, with some stipulations.”

“What stipulations?”

“Dean was going to actually move the statue somewhere else and then put it back again. Winnie wants it lifted up in the air, held there by a crane or something, and then put right back down again.”

“We can do that,” Ross said. “We’d have to use a crane to lift it anyway.”

“She wants to be there to make sure you do it right, and she also wants the…hold on a second,” Hannah covered the mouthpiece with her hand and turned to Winnie. “How much did Dean promise to pay you if you signed the release?”

“Five thousand. And it was Connor doing the promising.”

“Okay, I’ll tell him that.” Hannah turned back to the phone again. She was feeling a bit like an agent and she wasn’t sure whether she liked the role or not. “Winnie says Connor promised to pay her five thousand dollars if she signed. Is that okay?”

“That’s fine. We allotted six thousand in the budget.”

Hannah frowned slightly. “I heard Dean tell Connor that five thousand was as high as he could go.”

“Then Dean must have had plans for that other thousand. He was a whittler, Hannah. A lot of the guys who make the big bucks are.”

“What do you mean?”

“They nickel and dime the production companies. It’s like a guy who earns a hundred thousand dollars from a big corporation and steals pens and paper to use at home. He could buy his own, but it makes him feel good to put one over on the company.”

“And Dean did that?”

Ross laughed. “All the time. He just about drove our accountant crazy. You know those cheesecakes you delivered to his trailer? He charged the budget a hundred dollars for paper plates and plastic forks, and Michelle told me they cost less than ten dollars at the Red Owl.”

“Oh, boy!” Hannah breathed, shaking her head. “That really is cheap, especially because if he’d asked me, I would have provided them free of charge.”

“That wouldn’t have made any difference to Dean. He loved to pad his vouchers for out-of-pocket expenses. It was just the way he did business.”

Another reason somebody might have killed him, Hannah thought, but she didn’t say it. Since Tom Larchmont was the moneyman, she’d add it to his motive later. “Shall I tell Winnie it’s a go, then?”

“Only if you have dinner with me out at the inn tonight.”

Hannah laughed. “That’s extortion.”

“No, it’s desperation. I need to spend time with someone who doesn’t have a personal agenda and who isn’t directly involved with the movie.”

“In other words, you need a friend?” Hannah guessed, reading between the lines.

“That’s exactly right. Ask Winnie if I can meet her at her house in an hour with the money and the release form. I’ll hang on.”

“Ross wants to know if he can meet you in an hour at your place with the money and the papers,” Hannah reported, covering the phone with her hand.

“Fine by me, but tell him to bring Connor along. I don’t know this feller you’re sweet on, but I spent a lot of time with Connor when he was trying to get me to sign that paper. He was as polite as he could be and he ate three slices of my gooseberry pie. Haven’t seen anybody do that since my second-to-the-last husband died.”

Michelle rushed into The Cookie Jar at eleven-thirty, right before the noon rush, and handed Hannah a package.

“Here,” she said, puffing a little. “Clark showed us how to make a copy of the important footage and we left on the time codes.”

“Thanks, Michelle. I’ll go over to Andrea’s and watch it.”

“Better not. Dean’s murder is on the tape, and it’s not something Tracey should see.”

“Okay. I guess I’ll have to run home after lunch then.”

Michelle shook her head. “I’ve got a better idea. Why don’t you use Dean’s trailer? I’ve got a key and you can use his screening room…unless that’ll creep you out?”

“It won’t creep me out,” Hannah said, jumping at the chance to get a better look at Dean’s trailer. If she had time, she might even do a little snooping to see if she could find any other motives for his murder.

“Well, it would creep me out, especially if I had to go in alone. But I won’t be alone. You’ll be with me.”

“You want to watch the tape again?”

“No, that’s just an excuse. I want to help you do what you’re really going to do in Dean’s trailer.”

“You mean…”

“That’s right,” Michelle interrupted her. “I want to help you snoop through Mr. Big-Shot Director’s things.”

Chapter
Twenty-Five

Hannah glanced around uneasily as they ducked through the trees in the vacant lot and emerged in front of Dean’s Winnebago. She tried to squelch the feeling, but it wouldn’t go away.

“What’s the matter?” Michelle asked, noticing her big sister’s nervous expression. “You look jumpy.”

“I am. And I don’t know why.”

“Is it because we’re going to snoop?”

“I don’t think so. Heaven knows I’ve snooped before! Maybe it’s because we don’t have to break in and it’s not the middle of the night.”

Michelle laughed as she climbed the steps and unlocked the door. “Come on, Hannah. I’ve got a perfect right to be here. Ross asked me to pick up Dean’s shooting script and look for any changes he indicated for the skating scene we’re shooting tomorrow afternoon. Frances was supposed to drive over here to get it, but Lynne needed her for something else.”

Hannah stood back as Michelle opened the door, and then the two sisters stepped inside. The interior smelled musty, as if the owner had left it untouched for an extended period, but Hannah figured that was all in her imagination.

“It smells funny in here,” Michelle said, echoing what Hannah was thinking. “I wonder what it is.”

“This could have something to do with it.” Hannah plucked a crumpled sock from the top of a bookcase and held it up for Michelle’s inspection.

“Dean’s. I recognize the pattern. It looks like argyle, but it’s really his initials arranged in a design all over. His wife told me she gets them from a place in Beverly Hills that makes socks to order.”

“Dean might have been a genius, but his personal habits could have used some work.” Hannah picked up the other sock, which was lying smack dab in the middle of the aisle that led down the center of the trailer. She put both socks in a plastic bag she found on top of his desk and turned to her youngest sister. “Do you think we should save these for Sharyn?”

“It seems a little silly now that he’s dead. I mean, what’s she going to do with them? And it’s not like she doesn’t have a whole drawer full of others just like them at home. Let’s toss them. It’s quicker and easier.” Michelle used two fingers to gingerly pick up a grungy handkerchief from the desk chair. “And let’s add this to the bag.”

Once Hannah had relegated the bag to the wastebasket next to Dean’s desk, she followed Michelle down the hallway toward the rear of the trailer. As they progressed, the bad smell grew stronger and Hannah coughed slightly.

“Yuck,” Michelle commented as she passed a closed door. “That smell seems to be coming from the bathroom.”

“Maybe I’d better check it out,” Hannah offered. Her mother had accused her of being a dead body locator and she didn’t want Michelle to share that reputation. And while it didn’t exactly smell as if anyone had died in the Winnebago water closet, something definitely reeked.

“Go ahead, Hannah.” Michelle agreed so fast, Hannah knew her youngest sister had hoped she wouldn’t have to step into the small, smelly room. “Just holler if you need me. I’ll be right out here.”

Hannah put her hand on the doorknob and hesitated. The smell was familiar, but she couldn’t quite place it. She had just turned the handle and was getting ready to inch open the door when the reels spinning in her memory banks came up with triple red sevens. “Skunk!” she exclaimed.

“Skunk?”

“Definitely skunk. Is there a window in the bathroom?”

“I’m almost sure there is.”

“Then it must have crawled in through the bathroom window.”

“Do you think it’s still in there?”

“I don’t know,” Hannah said with a shrug.

“Do you think we should try to rescue it?”

“Absolutely not, if we want to have anything to do with people for the rest of the day. I’m fresh out of tomato juice at The Cookie Jar.”

Michelle looked confused. “What does tomato juice have to do with it?”

“If you pour it all over, it’s supposed to get rid of the skunk smell.”

“Does it work?”

“I don’t know and I really don’t want to try it…at least not now. Let’s keep the door closed and count ourselves lucky.”

“But…how about the skunk? What if it’s stuck? And scared?”

Hannah turned to smile at her sister. Michelle was a true animal lover. “When we’re through here, you go out the back way and prop open the door. I’ll hold my nose, open the bathroom door, and run outside.”

“And we’ll leave the back door open so it can get out?”

“Absolutely. We can have someone come over here to check later, after the smell dissipates.”

“That sounds like a plan. You know, now that I know for sure that the smell is skunk, it doesn’t bother me quite so much.” Michelle stopped and started to frown. “I wonder why Frances didn’t mention it.”

“Mention what?”

“The skunk smell. I guess she didn’t come in to clean this morning, now that Dean is dead.”

“Are you talking about the Frances I know?”

“That’s right, Frances Newman. She cleaned up in here every morning before Dean came in.”

“But…Frances told me that she was the script girl. And when I asked her what she did she said she was in charge of continuity on the set, and noting little differences between the takes so the editor would know which one the director liked best, and…”

“That’s all true,” Michelle interrupted, “but they don’t call them script girls anymore. The real title, the one on the credits, is Continuity Coordinator.”

“Then why did Frances tell me she was a script girl?”

“Because that’s what it was called when she started in the biz, and she still thinks of herself that way.”

“How about cleaning Dean’s Winnebago? That isn’t part of her job description, is it?”

“No. It was an extra job Frances took on when Dean asked if anyone wanted to make a little money on the side. He paid her twenty-five dollars a day to make sure his trailer looked good when he came in every morning. She said it never took her more than an hour and Dean paid her in cash.”

Hannah thought about that for a moment. “I should probably talk to Frances. She might know more about Dean’s life than anyone else in the company.”

“I’m sure she does. From what I understand, she’s been cleaning for him since they started filming two months ago.”

Hannah had an unwelcome thought. “There wasn’t anything personal going on between Frances and Dean, was there?”

“I don’t think so. And even if there was, Frances couldn’t have killed him. I saw her take up her position by the door, and the only time she left it was when Dean called her over to give her a note. She didn’t go anywhere near the desk, Hannah. I know that for a fact.”

“Okay, that leaves her in the clear,” Hannah said, putting a mental line through Frances’s name only seconds after she’d imagined writing it on the roster of suspects she kept in her head.

“This way,” Michelle said, leading Hannah down the center hallway of the trailer and opening the door to a room just beyond Dean’s office. “This is the screening room. Take a chair and I’ll put in the tape.”

While Hannah was waiting for her sister to ready the electronic equipment, she took note of her surroundings. The room was messy and that substantiated her belief that Dean had been a slob. There were paper plates on the coffee table from the cheesecake he’d served to whoever had screened footage with him, and no one had bothered to put them in the wastebasket. That wasn’t so bad, but Hannah spotted one of her distinctive bakery boxes and she was sure there was part of a cheesecake inside. By now it would be twenty-four hours old and it had been sitting out all this time. Hannah felt like putting it in Dean’s refrigerator, but it seemed silly since he was no longer around to eat it.

“Okay. We’re all set.” Michelle grabbed the remote control and took the chair next to Hannah. “Here we go.”

Hannah stared at the big-screen television as the tape began to run. She saw Mike check the gun—they’d even captured that on tape—and she saw Burke walk over to the desk. Burke pulled out the drawer, made sure the gun was inside, and walked away. Several other people milled around in that area, but as far as Hannah could see, no one else touched the drawer except Lloyd, the prop man, who came over to check it after Burke.

Hannah made a mental note to quiz Lloyd to see if he’d noticed anything unusual about the gun in the drawer. He hadn’t taken it out to check the firing pin, but there might have been something not quite right, something that hadn’t made him suspicious until now, in retrospect.

One other person was a possibility and that was Jared, the set decorator. He’d gone over to straighten the flowers that sat on the desk and stood in front of it, effectively blocking the camera’s view of the drawer. Perhaps he hadn’t touched the drawer. Hannah had no way of knowing, but he’d had the opportunity and that was enough to make him a suspect.

Hannah watched as Lynne took her place in the desk chair and Burke entered the scene. The first take was awful, as were the second and the third. It was exactly the way Dean had described. Burke couldn’t act his way out of a paper bag. Hannah knew Burke’s character was supposed to be drunk, but Burke slipped several times and forgot to slur his words. He also looked more pained than guilty and Hannah remembered that he’d said his back was hurting him.

“Brace yourself,” Michelle said as Dean started to demonstrate the scene. “Camera two does a close-up and it’s not fun to watch.”

It was a clear warning from the baby sister who hadn’t minded watching an autopsy on educational television. Hannah took it to heart and did what she always did when a particularly frightening or gory scene appeared on television or in the movies. She peeked through her fingers.

This whole device of peeking through her fingers might look silly to other people, but it worked for Hannah. Just seeing her own fingers in front of the scene was a constant reminder that it wasn’t really happening and she was really in a movie theater or in her own living room. Of course in this case, it had really happened. And her fingers didn’t work quite so well.

When the scene was over, Hannah drew a deep breath and looked over at her sister. Michelle was just lowering her hand and she gave a sheepish smile. “Sorry. You told me to do that when I was a kid, and I still do it.”

“So do I,” Hannah admitted, and then she got back to business. “Okay, who did you notice?”

Michelle ticked them off on her fingers. “Lynne, but she didn’t touch the drawer, at least not when the camera was running. Burke, who did touch the drawer and even pulled it out to make sure the prop gun was there.”

“If it was the prop gun when he checked,” Hannah pointed out.

“Yes. I should probably ask around and find out if Burke has any background with revolvers.”

“Good idea. Who else?”

“Lloyd. He checked the drawer before filming started.”

“Was that part of his job?”

“Yes. He always checks a scene right before they shoot it to make sure the important props are in the correct position.”

“Anyone else?”

“Only one and that’s not for sure. Jared went over to rearrange the bouquet on the desk. He stood in front of the drawer and he could have pulled it out without us noticing.”

“Very good!” Hannah said, smiling at her baby sister. “And that’s it?”

“That’s all I saw.

“Me too, except for me.”

“You?”

“Dean had me replace the tray of mini cherry cheesecakes right before the final take. I blocked the drawer with my body, and I could have switched the revolvers without anyone noticing.”

“But you didn’t!”

“Of course not. The important thing is that I could have. You didn’t even notice me because you didn’t suspect me. What you have to remember is that when you’re working on a crime like this, you can’t overlook anybody.”

Michelle sighed deeply. “You’re right. I should have mentioned you even though I knew you didn’t do it. I guess that’s why I’m the helper and you’re the detective.”

“I’m not a detective. I’m a snoop.” Hannah reached out to give her sister a pat on the shoulder. “And speaking of snooping…let’s go through Dean’s things and see what we can dig up.”

The first room they searched was the largest room in the trailer, the one at the end of the hallway. Hannah opened the door and gave a smug smile. She’d been right. It was the master bedroom and Dean hadn’t changed it. The large bed it had been designed to accommodate was the focal point of the room, and the only concession to office work was a conversational grouping of four barrel-backed chairs around an octagonal coffee table.

“So what did he use this room for?” Hannah asked, almost certain that she knew the answer to her own question.

“Private rehearsals. If one of the actors was having trouble with a scene, Dean would bring them here to go over it. But I’m pretty sure he used it for other things, too.”

“Right. You start with the closet and see if there’s anything of interest in there. I’ll check the coffee table and the little chest of drawers by the bed.”

Hannah went through the coffee table quickly. There were a few magazines, a couple of books, and several yellow legal-size pads. A ceramic holder was filled with an assortment of pens and pencils, and a couple of decks of cards were tossed into a basket with a bridge score pad. Unless someone had gotten completely bent out of shape over a rubber of bridge and killed Dean in retaliation, she hadn’t found a thing.

“How are you coming?” Hannah asked, aiming her question at the closet.

“Fine. I’m almost through.”

“Me too.” Hannah headed over to the small dresser, but all it contained were CDs for the sound system. Hannah paged through them. There were show tunes, blues, movie soundtracks, and some pop classical. It was quite apparent that they were carefully generic, and Hannah suspected that they’d come with the Winnebago and were meant to appeal to anyone who rented the giant vehicle.

“I didn’t find anything interesting,” Michelle said, emerging from the closet just as Hannah shut the dresser drawer.

“Neither did I. Let’s go search the rest of the trailer.”

Fifteen minutes later, they were still searching and they were down to the last room. Both sisters thought that Dean’s office might contain clues, but what they dug up was a big fat zero. Then Michelle began going through Dean’s file cabinet and she let out a whoop as she hit pay dirt.

“Look at this,” she said, shoving a file across the desk to Hannah, who’d seated herself behind Dean’s massive work surface to go through the contents of the drawers. “It’s Connor’s employment file.”

“And that’s important?” Hannah asked, opening the file. The first page was a standard personnel questionnaire, the kind every large corporation asks applicants to fill out before their initial interview. “This looks pretty standard to me.”

“Take a closer look. Do you see what Connor listed as his last job, the one right before Dean hired him.”

Hannah glanced a little farther down on the page and found the section Michelle had indicated. “Chauffeur and bodyguard for a family named Dickinson in Iowa. He drove the wife to social events. What’s so unusual about that?”

“Nothing in itself, but take a look at the wife’s name.”

“Emily?” Hannah asked, beginning to frown. “Mrs. Emily Dickinson?”

“Exactly. And that must have made Dean curious, because he hired a private detective firm to check with Connor’s former employers. The answer he got is on the next page.”

Hannah gasped as she turned the page and studied the investigator’s report. Connor was stretching the truth even more than the image in a funhouse mirror, but she had to admire the attempt. There was a kernel of accuracy in what he’d written and it was very clever. He had protected Emily Dickinson and driven her, or at least her books, around to social events. Connor had been a library aide at Iowa State Prison and he’d been in charge of the carts that were wheeled around to the cellblocks.

“Well?” Michelle asked.

“It certainly gives him motive, especially if Dean was going to fire him. And it fits in with what Connor told me about how he couldn’t use Dean as a reference.” Hannah thought back to the tape they’d watched and shook her head. “I didn’t see Connor on the tape, did I?”

“I don’t think so. I know I didn’t.”

“Would it be possible for him to be there and not get on the tape?”

“Absolutely. They didn’t tape everyone.”

“Do you remember if Connor was on the set yesterday?”

“I didn’t see him, but I’ll check with Ross. He always notices who’s there and who’s not.”

Hannah shook her head. “Never mind. You’ve got enough to do. I’ll check with Ross when I see him tonight.”

“Tonight?” Michelle asked with a grin. “What’s tonight?”

“Ross is taking me out to the inn for dinner.”

“All right!” Michelle gave a pleased smile. The smile lasted for several seconds and then it turned into an impish grin. “Do Norman and Mike know you’re going out to dinner with Ross?”

“No, and don’t tell them. I don’t need anybody to cat-sit.”

“Cat-sit?”

“That’s right. Moishe’s perfectly all right alone. I don’t think I can take another late night gathering at my place.”

Michelle gave her a perfectly blank look. “What’s this about cat-sitting and late night gatherings?”

“I’ll tell you on the way back to The Cookie Jar. Are we finished in here?” Hannah waited until Michelle nodded and then she pushed back Dean’s desk chair. “Pick up your tape and the shooting script, and head for the hills. I’ll let the skunk out and join you.”

Less than two minutes later, Hannah came barreling out the back door. She took the steps at a running jump and landed next to Michelle with a thump.

“Did you see the skunk?” Michelle asked.

“I saw it, all right. When I opened the bathroom door, there it was trying to jump back out the window. It was really scared and it’s going to be glad to get back outside.”

“Do you think it’ll find its way out all right?”

“I don’t know why not. I shut all the other doors so the only thing that’s open is the back door.”

“Good. I wonder why it went in there in the first place.”

“Maybe it was attracted by the other skunk.”

Michelle looked confused. “What other skunk?”

“The two-legged one that used the trailer for an office.”

Chapter
Twenty-Six

“You look great!” Ross said, stepping inside and giving Hannah an approving hug. “I really like that outfit.”

“Thank you.” Hannah shut her mouth firmly, following the advice her mother had drummed into her head from little on. When a man compliments you, don’t argue with him. Just say a polite thank-you. She didn’t explain that she’d run next door to Beau Monde Fashions in a panic right after Ross had asked her to dinner, and she’d begged Claire to pick out something to make her look irresistible. She failed to mention that the outfit had put a crater in her budget even with her generous business-next-door discount. And she bit back her inclination to repeat Claire’s remark about how the new dress would hide the extra ten pounds around her waist and make the parts of her anatomy that most men noticed look lush and curvy.

“Hi there, Big Guy.” Ross walked over to greet Moishe, who immediately started to purr. Hannah watched as her feline made a fool of himself by rolling over for a belly rub, and she started to grin. The feline vote was in on Ross and he was a definite winner. To date, her four-footed roommate had given his unqualified approval to all three of her suitors. Hannah suspected that Moishe would give the same unqualified approval to any man who called him “Big Guy” and rubbed his belly, including the condo maintenance man.

“I’ll just get my coat, then,” Hannah said, heading for the bedroom. She really hated to break up this feline–human love fest, but her stomach was growling and she’d heard that Sally was featuring boeuf Wellington tonight. Since it was one of her favorite entrées, Hannah was eager to get out to the inn and order just in case Sally ran out.

Hannah took her best dress coat from the closet, the one she wore only when the moon turned azure. The coat was black and not cat-friendly. She’d brushed it before she’d put it away, but as she watched, several orange-and-white hairs floated through the air and settled on one sleeve. Hannah brushed them off with her hand, but she knew full well that it was an exercise in futility. There would be several hundred more by the time she walked through the living room and went out the door.

“I turned on the animal channel for him,” Ross said, as Hannah reentered the living room. “Is that all right?”

Hannah glanced at the set and saw that they were rerunning a documentary she’d watched about penguins. “It’s perfect. Moishe gets upset when birds fly, but it doesn’t bother him at all when they waddle.”

Once she’d tossed Moishe a half-dozen salmon-flavored treats to keep him occupied, Hannah locked the door behind her and walked down the steps with Ross to the garage. She expected to see his rented sedan parked in her other parking spot, and she stopped short as she caught sight of the vehicle that was taking them out to the inn. “That looks just like Dean’s limo,” she said.

“That’s because it is Dean’s limo. We rented it for him as part of his contract. Since we’ve got it for another week, I figured we might as well use it tonight.”

“Do you want me to drive?” Hannah gave a little laugh. “I’ve got some experience as a chauffeur. When the regular driver broke his leg, I had to drive the limo for Lisa and Herb’s wedding.”

Ross gave her a quick hug. “You’re an amazing woman, Hannah Swensen! And I don’t have a doubt in my mind that you could double as a chauffeur. But we already have one, so we get to ride in back.”

“You hired a chauffeur just for tonight?”

“No, we already had one. Connor is driving. We paid his salary as a provision of Dean’s contract. I told Connor he could keep the money and go back home, but he wanted to stay on and work.”

“I see,” Hannah said, and she thought she did. Connor was probably hoping to use Ross as a reference for future employment.

Connor jumped out as they approached and opened the rear door for Hannah. Once she was seated, he went around the car and opened the other door for Ross. “Straight out to the inn?” he asked Ross.

“Could we drive past Dean’s trailer first?” Hannah asked, before Ross could answer.

“Of course. But why?”

“When Michelle went to pick up the shooting script, I went with her. We think there was a skunk in there.” Hannah heard a muffled cough from the front seat and she suspected that Connor was coughing to cover up a laugh. “We left the back door open so it could get out, and I need to make sure someone closed it and locked it.”

“They did,” Connor said from the front seat.

“You’re sure?”

“Yes. I drove Mrs. Lawrence and Mr. Larchmont there this afternoon, right before I took them to the airport. They asked me to come in with them while Mrs. Lawrence picked up some things that she wanted. When we left, I made sure both doors were locked.”

“Did you smell the skunk?” Hannah asked.

“All three of us smelled it. We just didn’t know what it was. Mrs. Lawrence thought maybe the sewer was backed up.”

“Obviously a city girl,” Ross said to Hannah in an undertone.

“And Mr. Larchmont thought that the gas on the stove might be on.”

“Obviously a city boy,” Ross added.

“I checked the stove, and the gas was shut off.”

“Thanks, Connor.” Ross leaned back and put his arm around Hannah’s shoulders. “Since you’re sure everything is locked up tight, let’s go out to the inn and I’ll buy dinner for both of you.”

Hannah pushed aside a little twinge of disappointment as Connor joined them at the table. She’d wanted to talk to Connor anyway and she should be glad that he was sitting right across from her in one of Sally’s private booths. It was silly to resent the fact that she wasn’t alone with Ross, when she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to be alone with Ross.

“So who did it?” Ross asked, turning to her.

“What do you mean? The police are investigating and I wouldn’t dream of interfering with an official…”

“Of course you wouldn’t, but you don’t have to give me the standard party line,” Ross interrupted the speech Hannah had used countless times at The Cookie Jar. “I know you always investigate.”

“I never investigate,” Hannah corrected him. “I leave that sort of thing to the trained professionals. But I can’t really help it if people tell me things, and I put two and two together, can I?”

“Of course you can’t. So let’s get back to my original question. Who do you think killed Dean?”

“I don’t know. Almost everybody who knew him seems to have a motive.”

Connor gave a short laugh. “You’re right. And if you haven’t done so already, you’d better add me to your list of suspects.”

“Why?” Hannah asked, wondering if Connor’s reason would match the one they’d already thought of.

“Because Dean fired me right after I talked to you on Wednesday morning. I told him you were going to talk to Winnie after the cocktail party scene at Granny’s Attic, but that didn’t make any difference to him. He made me turn in my keys. Then he told me to clear out of my room at the inn and go home.”

“But you didn’t leave,” Hannah pointed out.

“That’s right. I was hoping that after you convinced Winnie to let him use the park, he’d hire me back. It’s not like he hasn’t done this sort of thing before. Dean is…” Connor stopped and swallowed hard. “Dean was a little hotheaded. He’d fly off the handle over something minor and apologize for it the next day. I learned to stick around after he fired me, because he always hired me back when he cooled off.”

It was time to play hardball and Hannah was no stranger to that sport. “And Dean had you over the barrel. He knew that without references, it wouldn’t be easy for you to get another job. And he knew about your background, too. That meant he could be as abusive as he wanted and you had to stand there and take it.”

“True,” Connor said, “except for one thing. I already had another job lined up this time around.”

“You did?” Hannah’s tone clearly indicated her surprise. “What job?”

“Mrs. Henderson’s stockbroker.”

Hannah’s jaw dropped open and she attempted to conceal the sudden descent of her chin by making a comment. “I didn’t know Winnie had investments!”

“She doesn’t, at least not as far as I know. I’m talking about stockbroker in the original sense of the term. Each year Mrs. Henderson auctions off her prizewinning cattle. And each year she gets far less than she should for such magnificent animals. I told her I’d handle the cattle auctions for her and my salary would come from the extra profit we’d make.”

There was no way Hannah could hide her smile. It seemed as if Winnie had attracted yet another man with her gooseberry pie. She just hoped that Connor was as honest as he seemed and his time in prison had nothing to do with a conviction for fraud, or embezzlement, or…

“Since you’re Winnie’s friend, you probably want to know why I was in prison,” Connor said, leaning across the table to lock eyes with Hannah. “It doesn’t sound good and I’m the first to admit it. I almost killed the guy who beat up my baby sister and left her for dead.”

Hannah thought about that for a moment and then she reached out to pat Connor’s hand. “I’d probably be tempted to do the same to anyone who hurt Michelle.”

“Thanks, but just knowing that should shoot me to the top of your suspect list. I was really angry with Dean and I admit that I thought about landing a few punches. I controlled my anger by driving out to Winnie’s farm, but she wasn’t home and I don’t have any way of proving where I was when the revolver was switched.”

Ross spoke up, “Maybe not, but you do have a way of proving where you weren’t. And that wasn’t anywhere near Granny’s Attic or the set.”

Both Hannah and Connor turned to look at Ross. They’d been so intent on their conversation, they’d almost forgotten he was sitting in the booth with them.

“I had Frances make a list of everyone who came in the door,” Ross said, “and your name isn’t on it. You weren’t there so you couldn’t have done it.”

Connor looked very pleased to hear that. “Then…I’m off the suspect list?”

“That’s right. And you don’t have to worry about anyone else holding your prison record over your head. Michelle gave me the personnel file Dean kept on you, and I shredded it.”

Hannah started to smile. She was proud of her baby sister. Maybe Michelle shouldn’t have absconded with Connor’s personnel file, but it had all turned out right in the end.

“Now, how about dessert?” Ross continued, turning to Hannah. “Sally’s got a terrific lemon torte, and she told me you gave her the recipe.”

“I did. My Grandma Ingrid used to make it and I haven’t had it for ages.”

“This might be the night for memories,” Ross said, capturing Hannah’s hand under the table.

“Perhaps,” Hannah said, doing her best to downplay the tingles that ran from the top of her head to the tip of her toes, and concentrate on something that was supposed to be more important…solving Dean’s murder.

When Hannah emerged from the dining room and turned down the hall that led to the ladies’ room, she found Amber Coombs waiting for her.

“Thank goodness!” Amber said, giving a sigh of relief. “I thought you’d never leave that booth!”

“You were waiting for me?”

“Yes. Sally said you were investigating…”

“I’m not really investigating,” Hannah broke in. “I leave that up to the…”

“Professionals,” Amber supplied the word before Hannah could say it. “That’s what you always say, but we all know better. I talked to Sally and she said to tell you what I overheard when I delivered coffee to Mr. Lawrence’s office on Wednesday morning.”

Hannah motioned toward the door of the ladies’ room. “Step into my office and tell me all about it.”

The ladies’ room at the Lake Eden Inn was spacious. Sally had placed several chairs around a round table opposite the sinks and the mirrors, and there was even a phone on the wall. Hannah had spent too many minutes thinking about how that phone might be used. She’d come up with several scenarios, including a woman on an unpleasant date who might use it to call a taxi and leave before her escort could become any more unpleasant.

“Have a chair,” Hannah said, taking a quick peek in the other room to make sure they were completely alone and then sitting in the chair directly opposite the teenage waitress she was now beginning to think of as her informant. “Why did you take coffee to Mr. Lawrence’s trailer?”

“He forgot to pick up the thermos Sally had at the desk for him. And since I was scheduled to work breakfast and I had a car, Sally asked me to run it into town for her.”

“Okay,” Hannah said, pulling her shorthand notebook from her purse and flipping it to the right page. “What time did you get to Mr. Lawrence’s trailer?”

“Eight-thirty. I was listening to KCOW radio and Kelly was just about to bang the gong for the half-hour when I pulled in and parked.”

Hannah jotted down the time and decided not to ask about the gong. Jake and Kelly were the half-comedy, half-news team who hosted KCOW’s News at O’Dark-Thirty, and they could get a bit strange. “What happened next?”

“Well, I got out of the car with the thermos and the first thing I heard was yelling. It was coming from the trailer and I recognized Mr. Anson’s voice.”

“Are you absolutely positive it was Mr. Anson?” Hannah asked, her pen poised over the page.

“Oh, I’m sure. And I saw him leave a couple of minutes later, so that proves it.”

That was good enough for Hannah and she jotted down Burke Anson’s name. “And Mr. Lawrence was in his trailer at that time?”

“Oh, yes. He was yelling, too. That’s why I waited to knock on the door. I didn’t want to go inside in the middle of a fight.”

“A wise decision,” Hannah said, hoping that Amber had overheard something useful. “So you sat in your car and waited?”

“That’s right. But I did something I’m a little ashamed of. I left the door open a little so I could listen.”

“Of course you did!”

“But I know I shouldn’t have done that. I was eavesdropping on a private conversation and that’s never nice.”

“Of course it’s not, but I don’t think you could find a single person in Lake Eden who wouldn’t have done exactly what you did.” Hannah stopped to give Amber an encouraging smile. “And you had a good reason for listening.”

“I did?”

“Absolutely. You had to know when Dean and Burke stopped yelling so that you could deliver the coffee.”

“That’s right.” Amber smiled right back. “I really like the way you think, Miss Swensen.”

Hannah glanced down at her notebook. “All right. While you were sitting in your car waiting for them to end their altercation, what did you hear?”

“Mostly it was just yelling at each other about who did something. You know how that goes.”

“I probably do, but tell me anyway.”

“Mr. Anson was saying, ‘I know you did it, Dean!’ And Mr. Lawrence was saying, ‘You’re crazy. I had nothing to do with it.’”

“Did you ever find out what they were arguing about?”

“Not really. It just went back and forth after that and each time it got louder. Mr. Anson kept telling Mr. Lawrence to remember last Tuesday, and Mr. Lawrence kept saying that he had nothing to do with it.”

Hannah jotted down Last Tuesday with a question mark. “And they never mentioned what happened last Tuesday?”

“Not once. But something must have, Miss Swensen. They were sure hot under the collar about it. The only other thing that Sally thought you might want to know is what Mr. Anson said right before he stormed out of Mr. Lawrence’s trailer.”

Hannah leaned forward, her pen poised to record something of great import. “What did he say?”

“If I find out you did it, you’re going to pay!”

“Okay, Amber.” Hannah jotted down Burke’s final threat and returned the notebook to her purse. “Thanks a lot for telling me.”

After Amber left, Hannah just sat there for a minute, thinking about what she’d learned. The fight between Burke and Dean was interesting, but it didn’t shed any real light on Dean’s murder. Burke certainly hadn’t switched the prop gun for a real one, not when he was about to hold it up to his own head and pull the trigger. It had to be someone else, perhaps another person who was involved in whatever had happened the previous Tuesday. She’d ask Ross about that and if Ross didn’t know, she’d ask Michelle to quiz the other members of the crew about it.

LEMON CREAM TORTE

Preheat oven to 250 degrees F., rack in the middle position (Not a misprint—two hundred and fifty degrees F.)

Hannah’s Note: Try to choose a day when the humidity is low to bake this. Meringues don’t crisp up as well if the air is too humid.

Meringue:

4 egg whites (reserve the yolks in a bowl for the filling)

1 cup white (granulated) sugar

½ teaspoon vanilla extract

Cover a cookie sheet with parchment paper. (You can use brown parcel-wrapping paper, but parchment works best.) Draw two 8-inch diameter circles on your paper, using a round 8-inch cake pan as a guide. Spray the paper with Pam, or other non-stick cooking spray, and sprinkle it lightly with flour.

Beat the egg whites until they are stiff enough to hold a soft peak. Add 2?3 cup of the sugar gradually, sprinkling it in and beating hard (on high speed with an electric mixer) after each sprinkling. Pour in the vanilla extract and sprinkle in the rest of the sugar ( 1/3 cup.) Mix it in very gently (on low speed with an electric mixer), or fold in with an angel food cake whisk until the meringue is smooth.

Spoon half the meringue neatly into one of the 8-inch circles. Smooth the top—it should be about ¾ inch thick. Spoon the remaining meringue into the second circle and smooth the top.

Bake at 250 degrees F. for one hour, or until slightly golden on top and the surface is hard when touched.

Cool completely on the cookie sheet on a wire rack.

When the meringues are cool, gently loosen them by peeling off the paper. Put them back on the paper loose, and move them to a cool, dry place. (A dark cupboard is fine—The refrigerator is NOT FINE.)

Filling:

4 egg yolks

½ cup white (granulated) sugar

3 Tablespoons lemon juice

2 teaspoons lemon zest (finely grated peel—just the yellow part)

½ cup whipping cream

2 teaspoons vanilla extract

¼ cup white (granulated) sugar (you’ll use ¾ cup total in the filling)

Beat the egg yolks with ½ cup sugar until smooth. Add the lemon juice and zest.

Cook in the top of a double boiler, over gently boiling water, until the egg yolk mixture is smooth and as thick as mayonnaise. (That’s a little thicker than gravy and takes about 3 minutes or so.) Move the top part of the double boiler to a cold burner and let the mixture cool while you complete the rest of the recipe.

Pour the vanilla into the cream. Whip the cream just until it holds a peak. Don’t overbeat. Beat in the remaining ¼ cup sugar. Slowly stir the whipped cream mixture into the warm lemon mixture until you have a light, smooth sauce. (Lick the spoon—it’s yummy!) Cover it and refrigerate the sauce until you’re ready to serve.

To assemble, get out the meringues and the lemon filling. Decide which meringue looks best and set that aside for the top. Place the other meringue on a cake plate.

Spoon half of the lemon filling over the top of the meringue on the cake plate. Spread it with a rubber spatula so it’s almost out to the edge.

Put the best-looking meringue on top. Spoon the rest of the lemon filling on top of that meringue and spread it out with a rubber spatula.

To serve, cut pie-shaped wedges at the table and transfer them to dessert plates. This is a light, sugary but tart, totally satisfying summer dessert.

Yield: Serves 4 to 6 people (unless you invite Carrie—she always has thirds).

Another Note From Hannah: This dessert is certainly yummy, but it’s not gorgeous. When Sally serves it at the Lake Eden Inn, she slices it in the kitchen because the meringues tend to crumble. Then she puts it on a beautiful dessert plate or in a cut glass dessert bowl, tops it with a generous dollop of sweetened whipped cream, and places a paper-thin lemon slice on top to make it look fancy.

Chapter
Twenty-Seven

“Why are you smiling like that?” Delores asked. Her mother’s question yanked Hannah out of the contented daydream she’d slipped into after finishing the baking and back to reality, where she was sitting across from Delores in the kitchen of The Cookie Jar. Since telling her mother that she’d been thinking about Ross, the fun they’d had the previous evening, and the possibility of more fun in the future might encourage her matchmaking matriarch much too much, Hannah pretended she hadn’t heard. “What did you say, Mother?”

“Why were you smiling like that?”

“Smiling like what?”

“Like the cat that got into the cream pot.”

Hannah’s ears perked up. It was another Regency expression from the mother who’d been spouting them left and right for the past few weeks. In less time than it took to mix up a batch of Oatmeal Raisin Crisps, Delores had used three Regency expressions and the cat and the cream pot counted as the fourth. She’d said high in the instep to describe someone who was snooty, she’d called the new sweater she’d bought all the crack to mean that it was fashionable, and she’d explained that one of her customers had suffered an attack of the megrims when she went into a severe depression over her daughter’s divorce. Hannah was used to hearing Regency expressions for a day or two after a meeting of the Lake Eden Regency Romance Club, but the meeting this month had been canceled so that the members could try out for parts in the movie.

“What’s with all this Regency-speak?” Hannah asked, answering a question with a question in an effort to throw off her mother’s game.

“It’s just so much more colorful, isn’t it?” Delores also answered a question with a question, and mother and daughter began to volley.

“Do you really think so?” Hannah lobbed the question ball right back over the net. She must have landed a good one, because her mother didn’t reply. “So how many Regency expressions do you think you know?”

“Hundreds, I’m sure,” Delores answered, not even trying for a return.

Hannah felt the thrill of victory. She’d served and scored on that last question. But just as she was relishing her win, a dire thought crept into her mind. Delores had a computer, and she was using a lot of Regency expressions. Had her mother found another Englishman who piqued her interest, perhaps someone she’d met in some international chat room on the Internet? Delores had already shown that she wasn’t such a good judge of character when it came to handsome Englishmen who liked to dance.

“Mother?” Hannah started out tentatively, but only after she’d replenished her mother’s supply of German Chocolate Cake Cookies.

“Yes, dear.”

“Michelle says you’ve got a new computer.”

“Yes, I do. Norman helped me order it and he hooked it all up for me.”

“Why didn’t Norman tell me?”

“Because I asked him not to. I was going to surprise you the next time you came over, but I forgot to tell Michelle that it was a surprise. It’s an amazing machine, dear, much better than a typewriter.”

“So,” Hannah proceeded gingerly down the path she’d chosen, “you use it for word processing, then?”

“That’s right. And Norman installed a mail program for me.”

A mail program. Hannah digested that bit of information and then she went for another bite. “You’re connected to the Internet?”

“Not yet. Norman says to wait until the cable company has a special on their high-speed line. That’s when you can get free installation. He told me I wouldn’t be happy with a dial-up connection. It’s just too slow.”

“I see,” Hannah said, relaxing slightly. Delores wasn’t connected to the Internet, and that meant she couldn’t be having a cyber romance with a handsome, ballroom dancing Englishman she’d met online. “Is that mail program Norman installed for later when you have e-mail?”

“No, it’s for snail mail. I learned how to make labels and I’m keeping our master address list of customers for Granny’s Attic. Would you believe that Carrie and I were hand-addressing all our sale notices? Now all I have to do is print out labels, and we can just stick them on.”

“That’s a real time-saver.” Hannah still wasn’t completely satisfied. Nothing Delores had told her explained her mother’s sudden obsession with Regency terms. “Have you been doing a lot of reading lately?”

“Not as much as I’d like, dear. Running Granny’s Attic is a full-time job, even with all three of us. And after I get home, it’s all I can do to grab a bite to eat, switch on my laptop, and work for a couple of hours.”

“Work?” Hannah zeroed in on her mother’s last statement. “What are you working on?”

Delores glanced at the clock on the wall. “Oh, just a little hobby of mine. You wouldn’t be interested. I’d better run, dear. I left Carrie at the shop all alone. She’ll need my help.”

“But you’re not open for business,” Hannah pointed out.

“I know, but there are still things to do.” Delores stood up, shrugged into her coat, and headed for the door. “Inventory, straightening up, things like that. Later, dear.”

Hannah stared at the door that closed behind her mother, but there were no answers written on the white paint that covered the wood. Delores had a secret and she was guarding it carefully. Hannah figured that it would come out sooner or later, but in the meantime her curiosity was killing her.

“Hannah?” Lisa pushed open the swinging door that separated the kitchen from the coffee shop and glanced in at her partner. “Mike’s here to see you and I told him I’d check to see if you were busy. He says he needs to ask you some questions.”

“What a coincidence!” Hannah said with a grin. “I’d like to ask him some questions, too.”

“Shall I go out and lead the lamb to the slaughter?”

“Yes, but I wouldn’t put it quite that way to the lamb.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t.” Lisa went through the swinging door, but she turned around to stick her head back into the kitchen again. “If we’re betting on who gets the most questions answered, my money’s on you.”

“Thanks, Hannah.” Mike picked up the mug of coffee that Hannah had poured him and took a big gulp. “This would be a whole lot easier if Bill hadn’t gone to that convention. I’m working a double shift most days.”

“Filling in for Bill as acting sheriff, plus heading up Dean’s murder investigation?”

“That’s right. I got four hours’ sleep last night and I considered myself lucky.”

If you’d just swallow that silly pride of yours and let me help you, you’d get more sleep, Hannah thought, but of course she didn’t say it. She also didn’t commiserate too much. She’d had less than four hours’ sleep herself, but she wasn’t about to tell Mike the identity of the person with whom she’d had a late date!

“I know what you’re thinking.”

“You do?” Hannah felt a little tingle of alarm. Had Mike heard about her dinner with Ross?

“You’re thinking that if I’d accepted your offer to help with the investigation, I wouldn’t be so overworked.”

“Mmm,” Hannah said, settling for the most noncommittal reply she could come up with on short notice.

“It’s not that I don’t want your help. I do. It’s just that I can’t ask for it. You know?”

“Not really.”

“Winnetka County Sheriff’s Department regulation four-eighteen, subsection B says, No civilian shall be recruited into an official investigation without insurance, bonding, compensation commensurate with duties, and deputization.”

“Is that a word?”

“Commensurate? Yeah, it means…”

“Not that,” Hannah interrupted him. “I know what commensurate means. I was talking about deputization. I don’t think it’s a word.”

“It must be a word. They used it in the official department regulations.”

Hannah bit her tongue rather than say what was on her mind. Mike had a lot to learn about regulations and the overworked secretaries who usually wrote them for their bosses. A mistake in word usage could multiply from county to county, and from state to state, until it was as rampant as gophers running wild on a golf course.

“I was really tempted to deputize you, but I thought it would be overstepping my bounds as acting sheriff.”

“You silver-tongued devil, you!” Hannah murmured under her breath, smiling despite herself. If Mike had deputized her, she would have worked her sleuthy fingers to the bone for him. But he hadn’t. And he’d only mentioned it because he was trying to sweet-talk her into giving him the information she’d gathered.

“So what did you find out?” Mike asked, validating Hannah’s conjecture.

“Not much,” Hannah said, but she knew she had to give him more than that so he’d give her something in return. “From what I’ve heard nobody liked Dean all that much.”

“Who do you like for the murder?”

“At first I liked Connor. He had a good motive, but it turns out that he couldn’t have done it. He wasn’t at Granny’s Attic that afternoon.”

“Right. His name isn’t on Frances’s list. Who else?”

Hannah drew a big breath of relief. Since Mike had eliminated Connor, he hadn’t bothered to run a background check. Connor’s prison days would remain his secret unless he chose to tell someone. “I thought maybe Sharyn had found out about Dean’s extracurricular activities and lowered the boom. I even entertained the thought that Tom Larchmont might have done away with Dean because he was a lousy husband for his niece, Sharyn.”

“Nope. I cleared them both. They alibi each other, and an independent third party swears they never left their chairs between takes.”

Hannah made a mental note. There was no need to ask Sophie about the fight she’d overheard between Tom and Lynne since Mike had cleared Tom. “How about Lynne, herself? She was certainly in a position to switch the revolvers.”

“She was, and she was my prime suspect when Ross told me that she wanted to direct. But I searched her myself right after the murder and she didn’t have the prop gun anywhere on her.”

Anywhere on her? Hannah bit back an amused chuckle. Lynne was a gorgeous leading lady and she couldn’t blame Mike if he’d enjoyed his search just a little more than he should have. “So who do you like for Dean’s murder?”

“Jared’s a possibility.”

“Jared? Why do you think he did it?”

“Remember when I told you someone saw him straightening some flowers on the desk?”

“I remember.”

“Well, he had the opportunity to switch the revolvers. I watched the tapes of the rehearsals and one of the cameramen caught Jared blocking the drawer with his body. If he’d had another working and loaded revolver, he could have switched them.”

“I agree,” Hannah said, “but why would he do that? As far as I know, he didn’t have a grudge against Dean. And even if Burke was the intended victim, Jared doesn’t have a reason to want him dead, either.”

“Maybe he does and we just don’t know about it yet.”

“You could be right,” Hannah said. “I’ll ask around about him and see what I can dig up. In the meantime, why don’t you concentrate on your other suspects.”

“Okay,” Mike said, giving a weary sigh. “I’ll go back to work and you can go back to your baking.”

“I’m all through. Have a couple of my new cookies and tell me what you think.”

Mike bit into a cookie and his frown disappeared. “These are good, Hannah. Do you have a name for them yet?”

“Not yet.”

“I think you should call then Angel Kisses. They’re light and sweet.”

“Good idea. Have another.”

Mike finished four more cookies and when he turned to go, he was smiling, especially when Hannah pressed a bag of Angel Kisses in his hand and told him to share with his deputies.

When the door closed behind him, Hannah popped a cookie into her own mouth. Mike had gotten such a lift from the chocolate, he was all fired up and ready to catch Dean’s killer. Maybe a dose of her own medicine would work to inspire her, too.

ANGEL KISSES

Preheat oven to 275 degrees F., rack in the middle position

(That’s two hundred seventy-five degrees F., not a misprint.)

3 egg whites (save the yolks in the refrigerator to add to scrambled eggs)

¼ teaspoon cream of tartar

½ teaspoon vanilla

¼ teaspoon salt

1 cup white (granulated) sugar

2 Tablespoons flour (that’s 1/8 cup)

approximately 30 Hershey’s Kisses, unwrapped (or any other small chocolate candy)

Separate the egg whites and let them come up to room temperature. This will give you more volume when you beat them.

Prepare your baking sheets by lining them with parchment paper (works best) or brown parcel-wrapping paper. Spray the paper with Pam or other non-stick cooking spray and dust it lightly with flour.

Hannah’s note: These are a lot easier to make with an electric mixer, but you can also do them by hand with a copper bowl and a whisk.

Beat the egg whites with the cream of tartar, vanilla, and salt until they are stiff enough to hold a soft peak. Add the cup of sugar gradually, sprinkling it in by quarter cups and beating hard for ten seconds or so after each sprinkling. Sprinkle in the flour and mix it in at low speed, or fold it in with an angel food cake whisk.

Drop little mounds of dough on your paper-lined cookie sheet. If you place four mounds in a row and you have four rows, you’ll end up with 16 cookies per sheet.

Place one Hershey’s Kiss, point up, in the center of each mound. Push the candies down, but not all the way to the bottom. (You don’t want the chocolate to actually touch the parchment paper.) Drop another little mound of meringue on top of the candy to cover it up.

Bake at 275 degrees F. for approximately 40 minutes, or until the meringue part of the cookie is slightly golden and dry to the touch.

Cool on the paper-lined cookie sheet by setting it on a wire rack. When the cookies are completely cool, peel them carefully from the paper and store them in an airtight container in a dry place. (A cupboard shelf is fine, just NOT the refrigerator!)

Yield: 3 to 4 dozen cookies with a nice chocolate surprise in the center.

Chapter
Twenty-Eight

It was a noon meeting of the sisters and it was taking place in the small coffee room at Bertie Straub’s Cut ’n Curl beauty parlor. Thankfully the owner, the biggest gossip in Lake Eden, was watching Honey apply Tracey’s makeup and the sisters had the coffee room all to themselves.

“Did you ever see so many flamingos in your life?” Andrea asked, glancing around at the flamingo lamp standing in a corner, the wastebasket with a rather rotund pink flamingo painted on the side, the wallpaper with bright pink flamingos flapping their wings and marching in parallel lines around the room, and the mirror peppered with flamingo decals in various hues of pink.

“Bertie said this place used to be called The Flamingo Hair Salon before she bought it,” Hannah explained. “She threw out a lot of the decorations, but she saved some for back here.”

“The seller didn’t want to take the decorations with her?”

“I guess not. Maybe she figured they’d compete too much with the real thing.”

Andrea looked puzzled for a moment. “She moved to Florida?”

“That’s right. Here comes Michelle.”

Michelle, the last to arrive for their designated rendezvous, rushed into the back room. She pulled out a white vinyl-covered chair with a pink flamingo painted on the back. The chair was old and there were cracks in the flamingo, with yellow foam stuffing peeking through them. “I’ve never been back here before,” she said, sitting down at the pink Formica-topped table.

“That’s a blessing,” Andrea quipped, pulling out her dark glasses and putting them on.

“Why did you do that?” Hannah asked her.

“To tone down the pink. The only thing that’s not a flamingo in here is that.”

Hannah and Michelle looked where Andrea was pointing. It was a wicked-looking machine standing in the corner, with wires hanging down from a metal hood.

“What is it?” Michelle asked.

“I think it’s an old-fashioned permanent wave machine,” Hannah told her. “They used it to do marcelled hair.”

“What’s marcelled hair?”

“A marcel was a hairstyle back in the nineteen-thirties. They also called it a finger wave. You know what a wave is, don’t you?”

Michelle nodded. “Dad’s hair was wavy when he put hair oil on it. Mother liked it that way.”

“But Dad didn’t,” Andrea broke in. “He said it felt greasy.”

“So did a marcel. The waves were all perfectly lined up and they were sharp and even all over the head. Think about the early pictures you’ve seen of Joan Crawford and Mae West. They wore marcelled hair.”

“How did the machine work?” Andrea wanted to know.

“See those metal rods hanging down on cords from that hood?” Both of her sisters nodded and Hannah continued her explanation. “I’m not a hundred percent positive, but I think the operator wound hair around those metal rods. The wires led to the power source and when the operator turned on the machine, electricity heated the hair and curled it.”

Andrea looked shocked. “But that would be dangerous! I wonder if anybody was ever electrocuted.”

“I don’t know. That was way before my time.”

“I can ask Mother about it,” Michelle offered.

“I wouldn’t if I were you,” Andrea warned.

Hannah nodded her agreement. “That was way before her time, too. And you know Mother doesn’t like to be reminded of her age.”

“I know that. I just thought I could ask her if she ever came in here when she was a little girl and if she ever saw anyone actually using…” Michelle stopped and sighed. “You’re right. Better not.”

“Let’s get down to business,” Andrea suggested. “I have to take Tracey over to wardrobe when Honey’s done with her makeup.”

Michelle turned to Hannah. “I found out about Jared.”

“What’s all this about Jared?” Andrea asked, grabbing the steno pad Hannah had placed on the table and flipping to the suspects page. “He’s not even on here.”

Hannah handed her a pen. “We were waiting for you to write him down. Michelle and I watched the tape from the dress rehearsal and Jared was one of the people who had the opportunity to switch the revolvers.”

“What’s his motive?” Andrea asked, jotting down Jared’s name.

“He doesn’t have one,” Michelle answered quickly. “And he didn’t do it, either.”

“How do you know that?” Hannah asked her.

“Because once Jared finished straightening the flowers on the desk, he walked over and took the chair next to Honey. He sat there with her until the gun went off, and he was still with her when they were all ushered out by the deputies and searched.”

“So he never had the opportunity to get rid of the prop gun?” Hannah asked, catching on immediately.

“That’s right. I checked it out with Honey and she substantiates everything Jared told me.”

“Well, that lets Jared out,” Andrea said, crossing his name off the list. “Is there anybody else I don’t know about”

“There’s Lloyd,” Michelle said.

“Lloyd,” Andrea repeated, her pen poised over the suspect column. “Shall I write him down? Or will I just have to cross him out again right away?”

“Write him down,” Michelle said.

And at the very same time, Hannah said, “Don’t bother to write down his name. Lloyd’s in the clear.”

“You cleared him?” Andrea wanted to know.

“No, Mike did. He told me about it this morning. Lloyd didn’t have any time to get rid of the gun. Mike watched him go over to the desk and check the drawer, and then he came right back to where Mike was standing so they could finish their discussion about guns.”

“Opportunity to switch, but no opportunity to hide the prop gun,” Andrea summarized. “Okay, who else did we eliminate?”

“Connor,” Hannah told her.

“How did we do that?”

“He didn’t have the opportunity. Frances wrote down the names of everyone who came in the door at Granny’s Attic for the dress rehearsal, and Connor wasn’t on her list.”

“Oh, good!” Andrea said with a smile. “I like Connor. Besides, I’ve talked to him a lot and I’m a pretty good judge of character. He’s just not the type to do anything violent.”

Michelle and Hannah exchanged glances, but they remained mum. Let Andrea have her illusions. The secret of Connor’s past wasn’t theirs to tell.

“We’re down to practically nobody,” Andrea told them, glancing at the list. “And I guess I should cross off Winnie’s name since we didn’t find the prop gun in her barn.”

Hannah reached out to still her sister’s hand. “Not quite yet. We only searched in one place and that gun could have been anywhere on her property. She could even have thrown it in the lake on the way home.”

“You mean…you think Winnie did it?”

“No, but she certainly had the motive. Everyone in town knew she couldn’t stand Dean, and she was bound and determined to stop him from filming at the park because he was going to move her brother’s statue.”

“Wait a second,” Andrea said, looking confused. “I thought she agreed to let Ross move the statue.”

“No, all they’re going to do is lift it with a crane and shoot the scene under it. Then they’ll lower it right back down again in exactly the same spot. That was the whole point. Dean wanted to put the statue in another location while he shot the scene, and move it back again when he was through. Winnie didn’t want it moved twice.”

“I guess that makes sense.” Andrea said. “That statue’s been sitting there for years, and she was probably afraid it wouldn’t hold up if they had to move it twice.”

Michelle looked a little sad. “If Dean had been satisfied with just lifting it up and shooting under it the way Lynne is going to do, Winnie might have signed the release form right away. But Dean had to have everything exactly his way. He was just as stubborn as Winnie. The only way two people that stubborn can reach a compromise is for one of them to back down.”

“Or wind up dead,” Hannah pointed out, turning to Andrea. “And that’s why you shouldn’t cross out Winnie’s name. Logically, she’s still a suspect…however illogical that seems.”

Hannah smiled as someone knocked on the back door of The Cookie Jar. It was probably Norman. He’d called this morning and asked if he could take her to watch Tracey’s big skating scene.

“Are you ready to go?” Norman asked, stepping inside when Hannah opened the door.

“Just let me get my coat. Mother and Carrie left about ten minutes ago and they said they’d save us a seat.” Hannah grabbed her parka coat from the hook by the door, and Norman held it as she put her arms into the sleeves. “Thanks,” she said, turning around to face Norman. Being this close to him was nice, a little like warming herself in front of a blazing fireplace on a cold winter’s afternoon, or snuggling up in a warm afghan with a good book.

“What?” Norman said, noticing her bemused expression.

“I was just thinking how much I missed you.”

“But I’ve been right here.”

“That’s true, but I haven’t been.” Hannah put her arms around his neck and gave him a hug and a kiss.

“That was nice,” Norman said, leading her out the door to his waiting sedan. “Maybe you should not be here more often.”

The Lake Eden Municipal Park looked like the circus had come to town. Since the skating scene was supposed to take place at a Winter Carnival–type affair, warming tents were set up around the outer perimeter of the park. The tents were heated and between takes, the extras could crowd into them to warm up. It was a bit colder than it had been the preceding two days, but this afternoon it had warmed up to a balmy forty degrees. That was rather pleasant for March, but standing for hours in the snow or on the frozen ground could drain body heat even from a hardy Minnesotan who was wearing insulated boots.

As they made their way through the crowd of people, Hannah spotted Eleanor and Otis Cox, each holding a leash attached to one of their huskies. Next to them were the First Couple of Lake Eden, Mayor and Mrs. Bascomb, and Hannah began to like Stephanie Bascomb much better when she saw her bending down to pet the dogs. “What a crowd! It looks like everyone in town is here!”

“They put out a call for more extras this morning on KCOW radio. I heard it when I was driving out to the new house.”

“Why did you go out there?” Hannah asked.

“I wanted to make sure they installed the countertops when they said they would. You wanted black granite, didn’t you?”

“Right,” Hannah said. The moment the word left her lips she thought better of it, but it was too late. “I thought the black would look nice with the light oak cabinets. But really, Norman…you should have ordered what you wanted.”

“I want what you want,” Norman said, putting an end to that discussion. And then he slipped his arm around her shoulder and gave her a little hug as they walked over to join the mothers.

“You have no idea how difficult it was to save these chairs!” Delores said, greeting them with a complaint. “I put down my purse to show it was taken, but people kept asking me to move it.”

“Thank you so much for saving them, Mother.” Hannah knew it was time for compliments. Her mother always complained in an effort to gain her gratitude. “I’ve been on my feet all morning and I don’t think I could have stayed on them for another minute. By the way, these are for you and Carrie.”

Delores smiled as she took the bag. “Cookies? How sweet of you, dear! What kind are they?”

“They’re called Mock Turtles and you’d better eat them right now. It’s like a refrigerator out here and these cookies have caramel in the center. You could break a tooth if they got too chilled.”

“More business for me,” Norman said, causing the three of them to laugh. But Hannah noticed that her mother and Carrie each took a cookie immediately.

“Excuse me for just a minute,” Hannah said, getting up from her chair. “I see Frances over there and I need to ask her a question.”

“About the murder?’ Delores wanted to know.

“In a way, but only indirectly. I’ll be right back.”

Frances was standing in front of the statue, obviously guarding it from curious onlookers. She was a substantial woman with curves that were apparent even under her bulky parka, and she had curly brown hair and wire-framed glasses. Despite her jeans and boots, Frances looked like she should be passing out signup forms at a P.T.A. meeting and she reminded Hannah of a painting she’d once seen, titled, Everyone’s Mom.

“Hi Frances,” Hannah said, coming up to stand beside her. Winnie’s brother’s granite likeness of Ezekiel Jordan, the first mayor of Lake Eden, had been wrapped in furniture pads and tied with twine. It resembled a badly wrapped package on Christmas morn, something a child might have done all by himself. “You got stuck guarding Ezekiel?”

“Ross told me to stand here and make sure no one touches the statue. He promised Mrs. Henderson he wouldn’t let anyone lay a hand on it until after the crane picked it up and put it back in place. What’s the deal with her anyway? Is she crazy?”

“I think she’s just protecting a family treasure. Her brother sculpted the statue years ago and placed it here. Then he gave the land to the city for a park, but Winnie has control of it until her death. Her brother never married and now that he’s gone, the statue is his only legacy. Winnie feels an obligation to keep it safe from harm.”

“I guess that makes sense.” Frances glanced around her nervously and leaned a little closer to Hannah. “Do you think she killed him?”

“Who are you talking about?”

“Mrs. Henderson. Do you think she switched the guns and killed Dean?”

“I don’t think so. Winnie’s a pretty straightforward person. If she’d wanted to kill Dean to keep him from moving her brother’s statue, she would have taken a stand right here and shot him when he tried to do it.”

“That’s exactly what Michelle told me. I was just wondering, that’s all.”

“Who do you think switched the guns?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t think anyone hated Dean that much. I mean, he could be a real pill, but he never actually hurt anyone that I know of.”

“So you never found anything when you cleaned his office.”

“Like what?”

“Like hate mail, or evidence that someone was blackmailing him, or any compelling reason someone might have to want him dead?”

Frances shook her head. “No, nothing like that. I’ve gone over and over it in my mind, Hannah, and I don’t think anyone hated him enough to kill him. Everyone knew what he was and they accepted that, because he was such a genius. They made allowances. Live and let live, you know? And all those women he coached in his trailer? They didn’t expect to be his one and only.”

“How about his wife? Sharyn expected to be his one and only, didn’t she?”

“Of course she did. And not one single person in the company would have told her she wasn’t. We all liked Sharyn and we were loyal to Dean.”

“Everyone?”

“I think so. If anyone wasn’t, I don’t know about it.” Frances glanced around her again to make sure no one was near enough to overhear their conversation. Presumably she was getting ready to impact some tidbit of great secrecy. “It’s like this, Hannah. I don’t think Dean was the target. I really believe someone was trying to kill Burke.”

“Who?”

Frances shrugged. “I don’t know, but I’m almost sure it wasn’t anyone connected with the movie.”

Stalemate, deadlock, logjam, gridlock, Hannah’s mind gave her all the synonyms for the impasse she seemed to have encountered. Frances didn’t have any information she hadn’t heard before, but Hannah decided to ask a few more questions anyway and see what came up. “Tell me about Burke. Was he well liked?”

“Well enough. None of us knew him before he signed on, but he seemed nice enough. He had a big part, but he didn’t have his nose in the air, and he was really nice to the little people.”

“Little people?”

“People like grips, script girls, P. A.’s, and everybody who’s hourly and not salaried. A lot of actors don’t bother being polite to the people who can’t do them any good, but Burke was nice to everybody.”

“So you liked him?”

“I did. That’s why I can’t imagine anyone trying to kill him. He was naive, and fun, and really grateful when you went out of your way to do something nice for him.”

“Do you think everybody in the crew feels the way you do about Burke?”

“I think so. It’s like this, Hannah…killing Burke would be like killing the Easter Bunny. And that would really be a crime!”

Chapter
Twenty-Nine

“Hannah? Wait a minute!”
Hannah swiveled around as a hand grabbed hers and she came face to face with Winnie Henderson. “Hi, Winnie. Are you here to check on the statue?”

“Yes, and I like that gal that’s guarding it. She doesn’t look like she takes any prisoners.”

Hannah laughed. Frances must be the master of multiple looks, from Everybody’s Mom to Female Prison Guard. “I’m glad you’re relaxing about it. Did you see the crane Ross rented?”

“I already inspected it,” Winnie said, glancing back at the bright red piece of heavy equipment. “Never seen anything like it before. Says 50-Ton Hydraulic Boom Truck on the side. I don’t think Arnie’s statue weighs anything close to that much.”

“Probably not, but I’m sure Ross didn’t want to take any chances.” Hannah did her best to remember the phone conversation she’d heard Ross make. It was all about what kind of crane he needed to rent and he’d mentioned overhead cranes, bridge cranes, gantry cranes, jib cranes, and boom trucks. It must have been a guy thing, because Ross and the representative from Minnesota Crane and Hoist had agreed on something in less time than it took Hannah to mix up a batch of Orange Snaps, and the crane had arrived at noon. “I heard him talk to the crane rental place on the phone, and he said something about how it was better to overestimate than underestimate.”

“Better safe than sorry,” Winnie put her interpretation on it.

“That’s right. Would you like to watch the taping with us? Tracey’s been practicing her skating every night after school. She’s going to fly off the end while they’re playing Crack The Whip and she wants it to be perfect.”

“You don’t have to worry about that little gal. She’ll be perfect. She can do anything she sets her mind on. Reminds me of me, when I was that age.”

Hannah started to grin. Somehow she couldn’t imagine Winnie as a little girl.

“I know that’s hard to imagine,” Winnie said, guessing Hannah’s thoughts, “but I wasn’t always old. And thanks for inviting me to sit with you, but I’d better keep an eye on that crane man to make sure he does his job right.”

Hannah shifted a bit on the metal chair. It was a good thing she had a cup of hot coffee to warm her up, because they’d turned on the wind machine to make Tracey’s red scarf flutter in the breeze and all that air blowing across the flat surface of artificial ice in the skating rink had kicked up the wind-chill factor and then some.

“Cold?” Norman asked, noticing that she was shivering.

“Yes.”

“More coffee?” He gestured toward the tent the movie company had set up to provide hot drinks for the cast, crew, and extras.

Hannah shook her head. She’d already had two large cups of coffee and any more would necessitate a trip to the nearest ladies’ room. “No thanks. I don’t want to have to leave during Tracey’s scene.”

“Leave? But why would you have to…” Norman stopped and thunked the side of his head with his gloved hand. “Never mind. I get it. I’ll try another way to warm you up that doesn’t involve liquid.”

Hannah smiled as Norman slipped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. They’d been dating long enough for her to notice that he was always toasty warm, even in the coldest weather. It probably had something to do with his metabolism, and she wished she had inherited whatever gene he had that she didn’t have.

“Here we go,” Norman said, gesturing at the skating rink with his other hand. The boom crane operator had moved the truck behind the coffee tent to hide it from view and he was currently attaching a harness to the statue of the first mayor. “Looks like old Ezekiel is about to rise.”

“If Winnie’s brother had known this would happen, he could have sculpted a statue of Lazarus,” Hannah quipped, and she was gratified when Norman laughed.

It took only moments to secure the harness and hook it to the cable that was attached to the boom. Hannah watched, along with everyone there, as the boom operator began to lift the statue. The only sound was for the powerful motor that drove the hydraulic winch. Everyone was perfectly silent, fascinated by the spectacle, as Ezekiel Jordan’s granite likeness rose from the ground.

“Stop! No!”

Hannah heard a faint voice over the roaring of the motor and she turned to see Winnie heading for the statue at a dead run. Something must be terribly wrong.

Without really planning what she was about to do, Hannah jumped to her feet and set out for the statue from the opposite direction. She had less space to cover and she passed the statue on the fly and managed to intercept Winnie several feet from her goal.

“Winnie!” Hannah panted, holding the small farmwoman so she couldn’t get away. “What’s wrong?”

“That danged fool’s taking the base! I said they could move the statue, not the base!”

“But the base is part of the statue,” Hannah did her best to explain. At the same time, she moved Winnie away from the rising statue and back toward the coffee tent. “Come with me. I’ll get you a cup of coffee.”

“But they can’t move the base!” Winnie insisted.

“They have to move the base. It can’t be in the shot. Ross explained it all to me. They’re going to sweep the snow over the bare spot on the ground, and no one will even know there was a statue there.”

“But…if they cover the ground with snow, how’ll they get it back in the right place?”

“I asked the same thing.” Hannah loosened her hold on Winnie since the older woman seemed much calmer now. “Michelle told me they’re going to put down a piece of cardboard the exact size as the base of the statue and sweep the snow over that. Then, when they’re all through shooting, they’ll sweep the snow off and have the crane operator put the statue back down on the cardboard.”

“Oh. Well…that should work.” Winnie looked much more relaxed as she accepted the cup of coffee from Hannah.

“Come on back and sit with me,” Hannah urged, grabbing a chair that someone had left unattended, and leading Winnie back to the area where Delores, Carrie, and Norman were waiting.

Everyone held their breath as the sculpted image of Lake Eden’s first mayor hovered, swaying slightly on its tether, as high as a two-story house above them. Winnie watched the statue for longer than most, but at last she lowered her gaze and drew a deep breath. “Guess everything’s okay with Arnie’s statue.”

“Of course it is,” Hannah reassured her, and the mothers and Norman added their own words of encouragement before their attention was drawn to the wooden warming house at the far end of the skating rink.

“It’s that new lady director,” Winnie said, nudging Hannah as Lynne appeared. “Looks like she can skate just as good as the kids.”

Hannah watched as her old college friend glided across the rink and stopped in the center.

“Thank you all for coming out today,” Lynne said, and since there was no way anyone’s voice would carry over the sound of the crane’s motor and the whine of the wind machine, Hannah realized that she must be using a clip-on microphone. “I know it’s cold and there’s coffee and hot chocolate over there in the red striped tent. Feel free to help yourselves. We’ve already shot some crowd scenes and we’ll be shooting more when the action on the rink starts.”

Lynne motioned with her hand and seven young girls came out of the warming house, with Tracey bringing up the rear. “These are our little stars for this scene. They’re going to skate out to the middle of the rink and play Crack The Whip. As the new girl in town, not yet accepted as one of the crowd, Tracey’s character will be on the end. On the fifth complete revolution, the girl who’s holding Tracey’s hand will let go and Tracey will end up crashing into the snowbank in front of the green-and-white tent.”

Hannah, along with everyone else, turned to look at the snowbank where Tracey would be landing. It looked slightly different than the rest.

“If you’ve noticed that the bank of snow looks a little different, it’s because it’s made out of foam that’s been painted to look like hard-packed snow. The fall will look horrible on camera, and Tracey will scream and pretend to break her arm, but that’ll be acting and she won’t actually be hurt at all.”

There were murmurs from the audience, and then someone shouted out a question Hannah didn’t hear.

“One of our extras asked about saying walla-walla. That may sound silly to some of you, but if a crowd of people says it over and over again at different times and in different voices, it sounds as if people are talking to each other. You don’t have to say walla-walla today. We’re not picking up crowd noises. They’ll be added later in postproduction and some of the dialogue will be dubbed.”

Hannah was impressed. Lynne was doing a good job of explaining what they should do.

“When the action starts, I want everyone to look as if you’re having a wonderful time at the winter games in the park. And when the impromptu game of Crack The Whip begins, you can smile and even applaud as the girls twirl around. When Tracey veers off and heads for the snow bank, I’d like to see some expressions of alarm and fear for her safety. And finally, I need you to look horrified when she crashes into the icy snow and breaks her arm.”

“This is pretty exciting,” Winnie said, turning to Hannah with a smile. “I didn’t know that moviemaking was so much fun.”

It wasn’t when Dean was in charge, Hannah felt like saying, but she didn’t. Lynne was much better at public relations than her predecessor.

“Is everyone ready?” Lynne asked, and there were nods and a few shouts of assent. “All right, then. Let’s see if we can do this in one take. Tracey? Costume, please.”

Tracey turned and skated for the wooden warming house that sat on the far end of the rink. When she got there, she went in and closed the door, but not before Hannah had spotted Honey, the makeup person, and the wardrobe mistress, Sophie, waiting for her.

Hannah looked around and noticed that one cameraman had taken up his position in the spot vacated by the statue, another was up on a platform at the far end of the rink, and Clark, the cameraman Hannah had met, was walking the perimeter of the rink with a Steadicam on his shoulder.

“Places please, girls!”

At that instruction from Lynne, the six girls still on the rink skated toward the center. Lynne arranged them at intervals, changing their positions a few times. Once everything and everyone looked the way she wanted them to look, Lynne called out to Tracey. “Ready, Tracey?”

“Ready,” Tracey replied, opening the door to respond and then shutting it again.

“Lights!”

Hannah was surprised as the bright outside lights that had been mounted on poles surrounding the rink came on. It was broad daylight, but perhaps they were needed.

“Cameras!” Lynne waited a beat, and then she gave the final call. “Action!”

That was the cue for the girls and they began to play on the ice. One practiced spins at the far end of the rink, another skated backward, two girls joined hands and made slow circles in an imitation of the figure skaters they’d seen on television, and another two girls clasped crossed hands and skated as fast as they could around the perimeter of the rink. This went on for several minutes.

“Cut!” Lynne said at last. “Next scene! Action!”

The two girls who were skating slow circles headed to the middle of the rink. One of them motioned to the girl who was skating backward and she went over to get the girl who was practicing her spins. When they’d lined up at the center of the rink, the last two girls joined the line. There was some good-natured kidding and lot of smiles as they joined hands and began to play Crack The Whip.

“Cue Tracey!” Lynne said.

A moment later, Tracey opened the door to the warming house. She was dressed in a royal blue coat with a red satin lining, and Bill’s red scarf around her neck. She had a royal blue knit cap on her head, and blue pom-poms on her figure skates. Instead of bulky snow pants, Tracey was wearing ski pants with stirrups that fit under the soles of her feet and kept her pant legs from pulling up. Her outfit was fashionable, what a rich little girl might wear to skate at the Rockefeller Plaza rink, and it contrasted sharply with the rest of the girls who wore parka jackets and snow pants.

Tracey, who seemed unaware of the contrast, began to smile as she saw the girls playing at the center of the rink. She skated out and approached the girl on the end, obviously asking if she could play. The girl exchanged glances with several other girls and then she nodded. Tracey happily joined the line.

The line began to revolve in a circle at the center of the rink. Tracey looked as if she was having a wonderful time as the line revolved faster and faster around the largest girl, the pivotal point at the head of the line. Tracey was on the other end, the place with the most torque.

The girls skated faster and faster, and Hannah counted the revolutions. She saw other people in the crowd doing the same and she heard Winnie and Norman counting them off aloud. As Tracey faltered slightly at the end of the fourth revolution and almost lost her balance, everyone in the crowd looked concerned.

The fastest revolution of all was the fifth and Tracey barely managed to hang on as the end of the line whipped past the coffee tent. The blue-and-white tent was next in line and everyone could see that Tracey was tiring and she was bound to stumble soon. She hung on by what looked like the skin of her teeth past the yellow-and-white tent, and Hannah glanced around at the crowd as her niece neared the green-and-white tent, the spot where she was slated to fall. Everyone was staring at Tracey with alarm, just as Lynne had wanted. Hannah knew the feeling. Although Andrea had told her that Tracey had practiced this stunt with the same girls, her actual friends, at least two dozen times, she was alarmed, too!

As the green-and-white tent came into Tracey’s view, she wobbled alarmingly, tried to right herself, and made a real effort to hang on. That was when her real best friend, Karen Dunwright, dropped Tracey’s hand and let her crash into the snow bank.

There were gasps from the crowd and a few actual screams as Tracey fell spectacularly. She landed on her arm and Hannah could see her eyes fill with pain and surprise as it twisted under her. She gave a faint whimper and then everyone was silent, waiting to see what would happen.

“Cut!” Lynne shouted, despite the fact that she was miked. “Are you okay, Tracey?”

“I’m fine, thanks.” Tracey got up and smiled at the crowd. Then she swung her arm over her head to show that she’d sustained no injury and everyone there applauded.

Hannah turned to Winnie. “I think Tracey has a career waiting for her in show biz. I really thought she’d hurt herself, didn’t you?”

But Winnie didn’t reply. She was staring up in absolute horror as something fell from the bottom of the statue.

The cameraman who taken the statue’s place shouted out an invective that Hannah wouldn’t have said in front of Tracey or Bethany, and rubbed his head. Then he looked up and jerked his camera several feet back and into the crowd.

There was another shout, something about the statue falling apart and raining debris, and everyone reacted. Lynne skated toward the girls and rushed them inside the warming house, the people who were close to the falling debris headed for cover, and whatever was falling continued to rain down from above.

“Wow!” Hannah said, wondering if the cameras were still running. Winnie had been right about moving the statue. It was disintegrating before their very eyes. She turned to tell Winnie she was sorry for even suggesting that they move her brother’s granite tribute to the first mayor, and she was surprised to see that Winnie’s chair was empty. Why had Winnie left when their chairs weren’t even close to the debris falling from the bottom of the statue?

Finally the rubble stopped falling, and some brave soul ran out onto the ice to pick up a piece that had fallen. Hannah watched as Doc Knight, who’d been watching the taping from the side of the rink, grabbed the piece from the man who’d fetched it from the ice.

“What is it, Doc?” Lynne asked, skating back to Lake Eden’s local physician after having delivered the girls into the capable hands of Sophie, Honey, and Andrea.

Doc Knight shrugged. “Looks like a fibula.”

“You mean a leg bone?”

“That’s right.”

“From some animal?”

Doc Knight took his time about answering, and the crowd waited. They were so quiet Hannah thought she could hear them breathe.

“No,” Doc finally said. “It sure looks human to me.”

Chapter
Thirty

“Winnie? Are you here?” Hannah knocked on the door of the farmhouse. When there was no answer, she turned around to face Mike and Norman. “I think she’s here, but she’s afraid to answer.”

“You’re probably right,” Mike said.

“Try again,” Norman suggested. “And tell her who you are this time.”

“Winnie? It’s Hannah.” Hannah knocked on the door again. “Open up. You know we need to talk to you.”

“I’m coming,” came a faint voice from within, followed by a shuffling of feet. “All right, all right. Hold on while I get this lock off.”

It seemed to take awhile, but at last Winnie unlocked the door. She stood there in the fading light of the day, looking very small and very alone. “So did you come to arrest me?”

“No,” Mike answered for all three of them. “Should I?”

“Maybe. Come in and have some coffee. I’ve got a pot going in the kitchen.”

She always was a good hostess, Hannah thought as she followed Winnie into the large farmhouse kitchen and took a chair at the round oak table that dominated the room. “Why did you run off like that, Winnie?”

“You know why. Doc must’ve figured out those bones are human by now.”

“That’s right, he did,” Mike confirmed it. And then he turned to give Hannah a warning glance. His message was loud and clear. She should let him handle this. It was his job.

“Well, let’s have coffee before you haul me off to jail,” Winnie said, pouring four cups from the blue-and-white speckled pot that sat on the old wood stove. “Anybody take cream and sugar?”

“Just black, thanks Winnie,” Hannah responded.

“Me, too,” Norman added.

“Black’s fine with me,” Mike said, watching as Hannah and Norman picked up their cups and sipped.

Hannah held in a chuckle. Like a king with an official food taster, Mike wasn’t about to sip the coffee until they’d tried theirs. She figured he’d wait at least a minute to make sure Winnie hadn’t put anything lethal into the brew. What he didn’t know was that Winnie’s brew was lethal all by itself. It was strong Norwegian coffee made the old-fashioned way. Winnie washed the pot on Saturday night and made it fresh on Sunday morning. Then it sat warming on the old wood stove until the whole pot had been consumed. When there were only used grounds in the bottom, Winnie added more water and several tablespoons of new ground coffee, and brewed another pot. By the time Saturday night rolled around and it was time to wash the pot, it was at least half-filled with spent coffee grounds, some of them pressed into service at least a dozen times.

Hannah took another sip of her coffee. Thank goodness it was only Friday! She’d once had Winnie’s coffee on Saturday afternoon and it was strong enough to knock out a mule!

At last Mike raised his cup and took a sip. Hannah watched closely and she gave him points for not choking. His eyes watered a bit, but that was to be expected from a first-timer tasting Winnie’s coffee. Then he did something Hannah hadn’t expected from someone not born and raised in Lake Eden. He cleared his throat, gave Winnie a smile, and said, “This coffee’ll peel the paint right off the walls!”

Winnie gave a little smile and Hannah could tell she felt slightly better. Everybody in town said that Winnie’s coffee could peel the paint off the walls, and that was a compliment. Hannah held her breath, waiting for Mike to put down his cup and start asking questions. He’d once told her that he had two favorite techniques he used to interrogate suspects. One technique was intimidation, and the other was to use a sympathetic approach.

“Why don’t you tell me about those human bones and maybe we can work something out,” Mike said, and Hannah gave him a grateful look. She was glad he’d decided to be sympathetic rather than intimidating.

“Guess I’d better do that,” Winnie said, taking the chair across from Mike. From the way she was sitting, stiff and poised on the edge of the wooden seat, Hannah knew the story they were about to hear would be painful for her to tell. She took a sip of her own coffee and then she sighed.

“It’s like this,” she said. “My second husband used to beat on me every time he got a snootful. I was smart enough not to keep any liquor in the house, but he went down to the Municipal on Saturday nights. There was nothin’ I could do to keep him here on the farm. Lord knows I tried.”

Hannah frowned slightly, but she didn’t interrupt to ask the question that had occurred to her the moment that Winnie mentioned her second husband. If she had the chronology of succession correct, his name was Red and he’d left one morning to buy a pack of cigarettes and never come back.

“Anyways, the night my first boy was born it was a Saturday and Red was down at the Municipal. I knew I had some time, but I called my brother Arnie, he lived in town, and asked him to go fetch Red so he’d be home to take me to Doc Knight’s.”

“Go on,” Mike encouraged her.

“Well, Red didn’t want to come home that early, but Arnie got tough with him and brought him out here. Red wouldn’t let Arnie in. He told him to go home and slammed the door in his face. But Arnie was afraid to leave me alone with Red when he was drunk, so he walked around the house and looked in the window. By the time Arnie got to the kitchen window, Red was already slapping me around pretty good.”

Hannah felt sick just hearing about it and one glance at Norman told her he felt the same. She glanced at Mike. He was managing to keep his emotions in check, but she saw him swallow hard.

“What did you do when your husband slapped you?” Mike asked.

“I took it for a couple of minutes, but then I fought back. I thought he might hurt the baby. Hitting with my hands didn’t do any good, so I looked around for something else I could use. I always kept a coffeepot on the stove, a big one about twice the size of the blue-and-white one I got now. It had two handles like this one, see? And it was full of coffee.”

Winnie pointed to the handle on the back of her current coffee pot, and the wire bail that was attached to both sides near the top. “You need two handles when you got a big pot. You hold the top one in one hand and tip the pot up with the handle on the back, just like I did when I poured your coffee.”

“Which handle did you grab that night?” Mike asked her.

“The one on top. And I swung it around and hit him right in the face. The coffeepot went flying and he went down hard on the kitchen floor. When he made to get up again, I knew he was probably gonna kill me, so I grabbed the spider that was setting on the stove and hit him again.”

“Spider?” Mike asked, looking very confused.

“It was just like this one,” Winnie said, getting up to fetch a large, black, cast-iron skillet, the kind you could use to fry two chickens at once. “It’s heavy, see?”

Mike lifted the skillet. “You’re right. It’s got to be ten pounds at least, maybe more.”

“Well I wasn’t sure that would keep him down for good, so I hit him again on top of the head. And by the time Arnie had bashed in the glass and come right in through the window to help me, I’d hit him another couple of times for good measure.”

“What did your brother do?”

“He checked to see if Red was a gonner, and he must have been because he just left him there. And then he scooped me up in his arms and drove me straight to Doc Knight’s office.”

“Not the hospital?”

“We didn’t have one then. Doc’s office was like a clinic. He had a couple of beds and he lived in the back, so he was always there.”

“And you had the baby?”

“I did, but not until Doc got me all stitched up. I was cut pretty bad from the ring Red wore when he went to the Municipal. It had these sharp edges, just in case he got in any fights.”

Hannah took another sip of her coffee to quell the sick feeling in her stomach. What kind of man would attack his pregnant wife? The coffee didn’t help, she still felt sick, and she swallowed hard.

“Anyways, right before Doc knocked me out, Arnie got me alone for a minute. He told me not to worry, and he’d take care of everything. And that’s what he did. I didn’t find out until I came home with the baby, but Arnie went back and rolled Red’s body in this big rug we had in the kitchen. He cleaned up the whole place so nobody would know what happened, and then he dragged Red out to his car and drove him over to the garage he used for a studio. I guess he must’ve chopped him up or something. Arnie never would tell me that part. But when he was dying, he told me he hid Red’s body in the base of that statue he made for the park.”

Hannah and Norman gulped in tandem even though they’d already figured out the end of the story. It was still horrifying. But Mike seemed unfazed. Perhaps he’d heard even worse tales than this when he’d been a detective on the police force in Minneapolis.

“So what did you tell everybody about where Red was?” Mike asked.

“I said he went out for a pack of cigarettes and never came back. Nobody ever asked me any more about it. They all figured he left me because he didn’t want to take care of a wife and a baby. So are you gonna arrest me now? Or what?”

“What,” Mike said, earning a smile from Hannah. “There’s no reason to arrest you, Mrs. Henderson. It sounds to me like it was self-defense.”

“But I killed him, all the same!”

“What do you think?” Mike turned to Norman, and Hannah came close to gasping out loud. For a cop who always went by the book, this was quite a divergence.

“Justifiable homicide,” Norman said, jumping in quickly with his vote. “How about you, Hannah.”

“It’s certainly not murder. You killed him, but you were protecting your baby’s life.”

“Okay,” Mike said, smiling at Winnie. “As long as Doc Knight substantiates the injuries you described, this matter is concluded.”

“You mean…you’re not taking me to jail?”

“That’s right. Now here’s a hard question and I want you to answer it honestly. Did you switch those revolvers so that Dean Lawrence would die and keep his hands off that statue?”

Winnie’s mouth fell open and she looked as if a little puff of air from one of Bertie’s handheld hairdryers could knock her over. When she recovered, she shook her head vigorously from side to side. “I was already planning out what to do to keep him from moving that statue, and murder had nothing to do with it!”

“What were you planning to do?”

“I was gonna chain myself to that statue, lock it with a padlock, and throw away the key. I figured by the time somebody got bolt cutters, it would be too dark to shoot it anyway.”

“Then you never thought about switching the revolvers?”

“’Course not! It could’ve been that young surfer in those commercials that got himself killed, and I got nothing against him. Or it could’ve been anybody that picked up that gun and was fooling around with it.”

“Okay,” Mike said, snapping his notebook closed and putting it in his pocket. “That’s what I thought, but I had to ask. It’s part of my job.”

“A person’s got to do their job.” Winnie looked very relieved once she saw that Mike believed her. “Are you gonna tell everybody that I killed Red?”

“I can’t see any reason to do that. It was over years ago.”

“But…how about those bones? Everybody knows they’re human by now.” Winnie’s expression was a curious blend of elation and worry.

“I’m open to suggestions,” Mike said, and turned to look at Hannah. “What do you think I should say?”

“That they’re really old? Like fossils, or something like that?” Hannah grasped at straws.

“It won’t work,” Norman said. “They look too new. But why don’t you say that Winnie’s brother was leveling the ground to landscape the park and he found some Indian bones in the pile of rocks and debris he was hauling away. He knew he should put them back, but he didn’t know exactly where they came from.”

Hannah began to smile as she took over the fabrication. “That’s a great idea! Arnie didn’t want to go to the authorities with the bones. He was afraid they’d stop him from working on the park and donating the land to the city. So he bundled up the bones and gave them a decent burial in the base of the statue he sculpted for the park.”

“And he didn’t tell anybody about it until he was dying and that’s when he confessed it all to me,” Winnie added.

“Sounds good,” Mike agreed, pushing back his chair. “You folks can stick around and drink more coffee with Mrs. Henderson, but I’ve got Mr. Lawrence’s killer to catch.”

Winnie showed Mike out and when she came back into the kitchen, she was smiling. “Well, doesn’t that make a body feel good? All these years I’ve been worrying about being a criminal, and I’m not.”

“Maybe not quite yet,” Hannah said, grinning right back, “but if you don’t wash out that coffeepot soon, Mike could lock you up for making paint thinner without a license.”

Chapter
Thirty-One

It was Saturday afternoon and Hannah was standing at the back of a classroom in Jordan High, waiting for Burke Anson to play a much younger version of himself. Disaster had struck without warning when the young actor who’d been hired to play Jody at fifteen came down with laryngitis and could do no more than squeak. Burke had offered to play the teenage Jody as long as Honey could age him down. Hannah had known the term from college and the time she’d spent hanging out in the green room, another show-biz term for the backstage room that actors used to relax and wait for their cues. Aging down meant applying makeup so that an actor would look younger, and aging up was making an actor look older.

The classroom was stuffy and Hannah had all she could do not to yawn. She’d been out late last night, watching footage of the film with Ross and the cast at the inn, and that was when Lynne had asked her if she’d play the high school English teacher in today’s classroom scene.

Hannah had her fingers crossed that Burke would be able to pull off his role in less than a dozen takes. Lisa had recruited Herb to help her at The Cookie Jar and they’d both told Hannah to go ahead and have fun, but she couldn’t help feeling she was shirking her share of the work.

“Are you ready?” asked a teenage boy, and Hannah turned, expecting to see one of Jordan High’s sophomores. But although she’d been hailed by a teenager’s voice, it was Burke who was standing next to her.

“Did you just say something?” Hannah asked, hardly daring to believe her ears.

“Yes. Are you ready, Miss Bowman?”

Hannah answered the question with a smile and a nod. This might work out after all. Burke certainly looked like a teenager, and his voice was absolutely perfect. Now if he could only act like a teenager, they’d be through with the scene in no time at all.

“Places,” Lynne called out and Hannah walked to the front of the room. She had only one speech, but Lynne had told her that it was important because it set the tone for the whole scene.

“Lights…and action!”

Lynne cued Hannah, and Hannah delivered the lines in her best schoolmarm voice. “All right, class. I have papers to grade at the table in the back, so for the remainder of the period I want you to study Mending Wall by our own poet laureate, Robert Frost. If you have trouble understanding any of the allusions, ask Jody. If the last test is any indication, he has a better understanding of Frost’s work than any other student in this class.”

Hannah picked up the sheaf of papers on her desk and walked, in her gray tweed suit and sensible shoes, to the table at the rear. The moment she had cleared the last desk at the back of the rows, students began to lean over in the aisle and whisper.

Lynne waved her to her chair at the table and Hannah sat down. She spread out her papers and pretended to be engrossed in grading them, her red pencil moving over the paper and making a checkmark and an occasional comment, but she knew she’d be present only in the wide master shot and no one could actually see what she was doing. She, however, could still see the class and the quiet but threatening interaction between Jody and the rest of the students.

“Think you’re so smart, huh?” the boy with the yellow shirt hissed.

The girl in the pink sweater set nodded. “Yeah, you drove up the curve, you creep!”

The insults went on in hushed voices, and the boom mike picked them up. Jody looked defensive, and then nervous, and finally about to jump out of his skin as the other students taunted him.

“Come on, guys!” he said in a low voice, glancing back at Hannah. “I didn’t mean to ace that test.”

“What’cha got going with Miss Bowman, huh?” the boy in the yellow shirt, who’d started it all, moved over to stand between the table at the back and Jody’s desk. Hannah couldn’t see it, but she’d read the script and she knew the boy cuffed Jody on the back of the head.

At that point, Lynne motioned to Hannah and she got up to stand at the side of the room. The master shot was finished and they’d already shot several minutes of her at the table, pretending to grade papers. As Lynne had explained it, they’d intercut the footage so that Miss Bowman appeared to be oblivious to the harassment of her best student.

“Cut it out!” Jody hissed, glancing back at the table. But when he saw that the boy in the yellow shirt was blocking his teacher’s view, he started to tremble. “I don’t have anything going with Miss Bowman. She’s our teacher, that’s all.”

“That’s what you say, and maybe it’s right. But you’re teacher’s pet, aren’t ’cha?”

The boy cuffed Jody again and he started to shake even more violently. Hannah felt her heartbeat speed up, even though she knew everyone in the scene was acting.

“So…let’s talk about this test we’re having next Friday. You’re gonna sit next to me and give me the answers.”

“That would be cheating!”

“No, that would be smart. If you don’t do it, I’ll find you after school and beat you into meatloaf. Got it?”

“But…”

The boy threw a punch that seemed to hit to Burke’s head. It didn’t. It missed by several inches, but it would look as if it had on camera. And even though Burke hadn’t been touched, Hannah saw tears spring up in his eyes.

“Next to me,” the bully warned. “And anytime I ask, you give me the answer. If you let me down, I’ll make sure my dad finds something wrong with your dad’s work. Got it?”

Burke dipped his head in a nod and Hannah saw the anguish on his face. He knew it was wrong and he didn’t want to do it, but he believed the bully’s threats.

“That’s good. You’re gonna be my ticket to an A in this class. And if you tell anybody about his conversation we’re having, I’ll make sure your cute little sister isn’t so cute anymore. Got it?”

Burke nodded again, and Hannah resisted the urge to run into the scene and slap the bully silly. She was still resisting when the bully swaggered back to his seat.

“Cut,” Lynne called, “and that’s a wrap, folks. You were perfect Burke! I don’t know anyone who could have played it better.”

The high school students started to applaud and so did the cameramen and the rest of the crew. The applause grew and Burke took a bow. “Aw shucks,” he said, still in character and blushing to the roots of his hair. “That’s real nice of you guys.”

Hannah watched the young actor with something approaching awe. He had been magnificent. She’d never dreamed that he was such a fine actor. No wonder Ross hadn’t been worried when they’d cast a relative unknown. Burke had more talent than most of the leading men in Hollywood.

“Wrap party at seven at the Lake Eden Community Center,” Lynne announced. “I expect to see everyone there, because this film is now officially…in the can!”

“Not tonight, Moishe,” Hannah said, giving her famous feline a pat and a handful of triangle-shaped treats that were supposed to taste like fresh tuna. “I’m going to the wrap party and you’re going to watch the animal channel. There’s a great feature on bats, and right after that they’re showing Frogs of North America again.”

Moishe purred and licked her hand. It wasn’t his usual way of saying good-bye and Hannah knew he was glad to be staying home with the creatures behind the glass screen, the full food bowl in the kitchen, the pristine litter box in the laundry room, and Hannah’s best feather pillow in the bedroom.

“Okay. How do I look?” Hannah asked, swirling around for the cat, who was clearly more interested in his triangular tuna treats than in her appearance. He did close one eye in a wink, though, and Hannah interpreted that to mean that he approved of her midnight blue sweater and skirt. She’d even squirted on some of the perfume one of her college roommates had given her for Christmas, and with the hammered gold necklace Michelle had brought back from a college art fair, Hannah figured she could hold her own with anyone in Lake Eden.

Dress coat or parka coat? Hannah pondered that decision for a brief moment, but fate took it out of her hands. Her parka coat was lying on the chair near the door and her dress coat was back in her bedroom closet. Expediency won, Hannah shrugged into her parka coat, and a moment later she was rushing down the stairs to her cookie truck.

“Gorgeous,” Ross said, taking Hannah’s coat and hanging it on the rack. “I love that color with your hair. Come with me. I’ve been waiting for you to arrive.”

Hannah could believe that. Ross had been standing by the front door of the community center to usher her in, and she’d just barely resisted the urge to ask him how long he’d been there. Having a man wait for her arrival was certainly flattering to a woman’s ego, and Hannah was smiling as she walked down the stairs to the banquet room.

One look and Hannah was impressed. Ross had hired a firm from Minneapolis to cater the event, and they’d gone all out. The large banquet room was decorated with flowers and candles, and food tables draped in pristine white had been set up around the perimeter. Formally clad waiters and waitresses manned the food stations, and there was a live five-piece band playing for dancing at the far end of the room.

“Would you care to dance?” Ross asked. “Or would you like to inspect the food tables?”

Hannah turned to give him a look and Ross laughed. “Never mind. It was a silly question. Follow me. We’ll go see what the caterers have on the menu.”

They had anything and everything on the menu, as Hannah soon discovered. There was a table with caviar, which Hannah avoided like the plague, and another with cheeses and a variety of crackers. Pâté and toast rounds were on a third table, and shrimp wrapped in bacon on a fourth. Cracked crab wrapped in flaky sheets of filo dough were next, and another table held a variety of fruit cut into bitesized pieces, each speared with its own food pick. There were hot little sausages in tiny buns, and miniature sandwiches on tiny croissants. Smoked salmon commanded a whole table, along with a round silver platter of pumpernickel triangles decorated with cream cheese rosettes.

Part of one wall was taken up by what Hannah called “hot carts” containing meat sliced to order. There were beef roasts, ham, turkey, roasted chicken, and baked salmon, all aromatic and succulent. The meat was carved by chefs in white aprons and toques, and served as dinners with baked potatoes loaded with your choice of toppings, herbed dinner rolls, and sides of creamed spinach, green beans, creamed corn, or all three.

The next food section contained the display that interested Hannah the most. One look, and she was impressed. The caterer had provided colorful Italian ices for the party.

“Pretty fancy,” Ross said, eyeing the assortment of ices that dominated the first two tables. There were coconut ices in real coconut shells, orange ices in oranges that were cut in half and hollowed out, lemon ices and peach ices in a similar presentation, and banana ices that were shaped like bananas and served in a miniature bunch of three. Hannah especially admired the pineapple ices that were served in hollowed out rounds of pineapple.

The usual array of desserts filled the tables that remained. There were pies, cakes, tarts, cookies, and sweet treats in puff pastries. Hannah was about to call Uncle, and give in to her urge to try the pineapple ice in its pineapple round, when Ross moved up behind her and put his arms around her waist.

“Eat first and then dance? Or dance first and then eat?”

“Dance first,” Hannah said. The siren call of the desserts was strong, but she was enjoying the feeling of being in Ross’s arms even more.

What a diet! she thought as he led her to the dance floor in the center of the dining room. I could name it the Dance Diet and rent out handsome men to whirl overweight women away at mealtime as an alternative to eating. It would work with men, too. Most guys would give up a meal to dance with a gorgeous woman. And then, as Ross took her into his arms and they began to move to the slow, romantic music, the new diet craze she’d just invented became the furthest thing from her mind.

“Thanks for snagging a table!” Hannah said, sitting down with a sigh. “It feels so good to be off my feet.”

Michelle laughed. “I didn’t think you were ever going to stop dancing.”

“Neither did I.” Hannah slipped off one shoe and glanced at the bottom. “I thought for sure I’d need them resoled by now.”

“Ross, Mike, Norman, Lloyd, and Clark. And after that it was Mike, Ross, Norman, and Burke.”

“You’re in charge of my dance card?” Hannah asked with a laugh.

“No, Mother is. She’s keeping track of your partners.”

“That figures.” Hannah picked up the pitcher of water on the table and poured herself a glass.

“I was watching Burke dance with you and the expression he was wearing was priceless. I wish I had a picture.”

“I didn’t notice. What did he look like?”

“Like he was the only boy in the world and you were the only girl.”

“You’re kidding!” Hannah was surprised, not only by the observation but also by her baby sister’s use of such dated song lyrics. “But we talked while we were dancing and Burke didn’t say anything in the least bit romantic.”

“I know. He danced with me and we talked about the film. And then Mother cornered me to ask what was going on. That’s exactly how she put it, that whole only boy and only girl thing. I thought she was imagining things until I saw him dancing with you.”

Now that Michelle’s use of the old song lyric was explained, Hannah looked out at the dance floor. She spotted Ross dancing with Honey and experienced a totally unwarranted twinge of jealousy. Reminding herself that no promises had been exchanged or even offered, she quickly suppressed it and resumed her search for Burke.

Burke was dancing with Carrie, one of the least likely candidates for a romantic liaison. Not only was Norman’s mother over thirty years older than Burke was, she was also…

Hannah searched for the right word, couldn’t find it, and settled for something close. That word was ordinary. Norman’s mother was a perfectly nice, ordinary woman, but not someone Burke, a talented young Adonis with his whole life before him, could possibly be interested in pursuing.

“See what I mean?” Michelle asked, also spotting Burke and Carrie. “He looks like he’s about ready to propose.”

“Would that be a decent or an indecent proposal?” Hannah asked with a grin.

“Either one would do. It’s really strange, Hannah. Burke makes it look really intimate to anyone who’s watching, but they’re probably talking about the weather.”

Hannah watched for a minute in utter amazement. “How does he do that?”

“Who? And what’s he doing?” Andrea asked, rushing up to the booth.

“Burke,” Michelle explained. “He looks like he finds every woman he dances with irresistible.”

Andrea sat down next to Michelle and shrugged. “That’s what Lisa said. Herb was starting to get a little hot under the collar until Lisa told him that all the time they were dancing, they were talking about target shooting.”

“So Burke knows about guns?” The wheels in Hannah’s mind were spinning.

“I guess. Lisa said he won a couple of trophies for shooting, and he got a job as a spokesman for an outdoor outfitter. Maybe he’ll have to go back to the commercials now that he didn’t get that part.”

“What part?” Michelle asked, and Hannah could tell she hadn’t known Burke was up for another part after Crisis in Cherrywood.

“This part.” Andrea pulled a folded copy of Variety from her purse and read a section out loud. “Burke Anson of Surf ’n Turf fame may have a BEEF with Halsey Productions because something’s definitely FISHY.” Isn’t that cute? They’re using food terms because he was in that restaurant commercial.”

“Cute,” Hannah said, not believing it for a minute. “Go on.”

“Slated for the lead in Remember Last Tuesday, Anson was given the CHOP in favor of Derek Pullman, who decided to CLAM up and refused to give us a comment. When queried about the last-minute change, a spokesman for Halsey said that Anson had earned the reputation for being difficult on his current project, Crisis in Cherrywood.”

“Remember Last Tuesday,” Hannah breathed. “It’s a movie title!”

Michelle just shook her head. “No wonder I couldn’t find anyone who knew what happened last Tuesday! So that’s what Amber overheard Dean and Burke arguing about!”

“If that isn’t a motive, I don’t know what is,” Hannah pointed out. “Burke must have been convinced that Dean was the one who said he was difficult. What date is that paper?”

Andrea looked down beneath the green-and-black banner. “It’s Wednesday. They mail it from L.A. and I just got it today.”

“Burke wouldn’t have to wait to find out from Variety,” Michelle pointed out. His agent would have called him right away. Burke could have taken the call and then rushed right off to confront Dean in his office. I’m sure he thought Dean wrecked his career by tagging him with the difficult label. That’s the kiss of death, you know.”

“But Amber said Dean denied everything,” Andrea argued. “She heard Dean tell Burke that he didn’t do it.”

Hannah gave a short laugh. “It’s pretty obvious Burke didn’t believe him. He must have thought Dean was getting even for that awful interview he gave on KCOW television.”

“But didn’t Dean say he wasn’t mad about that? That he thought what Burke said on television was funny?” Andrea asked.

“He said it, but I was there and I didn’t believe him for a second. I don’t think anybody did. It was pretty clear that Dean was only pretending to be amused to save face.”

“Do you think Dean told the producers of Remember Last Tuesday that Burke was difficult to work with?” Andrea wanted to know.

Michelle shrugged. “It could have happened that way. Most of the producers know each other and they compare notes. It doesn’t really matter whether Dean did it or not, as long as Burke was convinced he did.”

“That’s why Burke was so lousy in the scene,” Hannah felt a current of excitement as the light dawned. “He’s a great actor. We all know that. And a great actor can play a lousy actor.”

Andrea stared at Hannah for a moment. “You’re right. It’s why he said his back hurt and he couldn’t seem to get the motivation right. He wanted Dean to demonstrate the suicide and pull the trigger on the real revolver.”

“He’s a stone cold killer,” Hannah said, shivering slightly. “He stood there watching, only a few feet away, and he knew exactly what was going to happen.”

“So shall we tell Mike?” Michelle asked.

“Not yet. It’s all supposition at this point. We don’t have any proof.” Hannah turned to Andrea. “Can you locate Sally and ask her if Burke got any calls in his room on Wednesday morning? I’m sure she’s around here someplace.”

“I’m on it,” Andrea said, rushing off.

“And can you think of an excuse to find out who Burke’s agent is?” Hannah asked Michelle. “We can always call and ask when Burke was notified that someone else got the part.”

“No problem. Somebody’s bound to know. What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to find Mother and get the keys to Granny’s Attic. We know that Burke didn’t have that prop gun on him when he left the building, so it’s just got to be hidden there somewhere.”

Hannah searched in vain for her mother. She’d seen her only minutes ago, but Delores seemed to have vanished. She even checked the ladies’ room, but the only person there was Winnie Henderson, who was standing in front of the mirror brushing her hair.

“Hi, Winnie,” Hannah said. “I’m glad you came to the party.”

“Connor brought me. He said the caterers cost more than one of my prize heifers and I owed it to my taste buds to come and eat.”

Hannah’s stomach growled. With all this excitement she’d forgotten to eat. “Sounds like a good idea to me. Have you seen Mother?”

“I saw her about ten minutes ago. She was just leaving.”

“Leaving?” Hannah glanced at her watch. “But it’s only eight-thirty.”

“Oh, she’s coming back. She just ran down to Granny’s Attic to make sure they were careful when they loaded the sewing machine on the truck.”

“What sewing machine?”

“The one they had on the living room set. You must have seen it. It was all the way in the corner, right next to the desk where you-know-what happened.”

Hannah remembered the sewing machine. The top had been down, with the sewing head tucked inside, and it had been covered with a large crocheted doily.

“Your mother was pleased as punch to sell it, ’specially because it went for a fortune.”

“It did?” Hannah was puzzled. “I thought that model was mass-produced by Sears, or one of the other big mail-order chains in the fifties.”

“You’re right, but that young actor from the film paid close to a thousand dollars for it. He’s having it shipped back to California.”

Now Hannah was even more puzzled. Why would Burke pay that much for a common sewing machine? Then her mind kicked into high gear and the truth dawned. Burke would pay through the teeth if he’d hidden something inside that perfectly ordinary sewing machine, something like the prop gun!

But why hadn’t the deputies found the gun when they’d searched Granny’s Attic? Hannah considered that for a moment and came up with a possible explanation. The sewing machine had looked exactly like a table with a false front and two small drawers on either side. What if the deputies had searched the drawers but hadn’t realized that the sewing head swiveled up from a hollow below, where there would be plenty of room to hide a revolver?

“Holy cow!” Hannah gasped, taking Daisy, Buttercup, and Petunia’s breed in vain. She knew where Burke had hidden the prop gun and she had to get it before it headed off on a moving van for California!

Chapter
Thirty-Two

A light, lazy snow was falling as Hannah drove to Granny’s Attic. There weren’t quite enough snowflakes to keep her windshield wipers from squeaking against the glass, but the snowfall was a bit too much not to use them. She was about to turn into the alley when she saw the taillights of a semi idling in back of Granny’s Attic. Rather than drive in behind it, Hannah went around the block and entered the alley from the other way, effectively blocking the semi. Expecting to hear an angry shout from the driver when she got out of her much smaller truck, Hannah heard nothing but the powerful motor idling. She’d gotten here just in time. The driver must be inside with Delores, getting ready to load Burke’s sewing machine.

Hannah raced for the back door, almost slipping on the blacktop in her dress shoes. She hadn’t wanted to take the time to get her boots and it was a good thing she hadn’t or she might not have caught the semi. “Mother!” she called out as she opened the back door and hurried past the section her mother called “Trash or Treasures,” the unsorted items that might or might not be valuable.

“In here, dear,” Delores sounded surprised. “We’re just filling out some paperwork for a shipment.”

“Stop!”

“What was that, dear?” Delores sounded even more surprised and she looked surprised, too, as Hannah burst into the large main room of Granny’s Attic, the room that was still decorated as a living room set.

“I need to look at that sewing machine, Mother!”

“You mean the one that Burke bought?”

“That’s right. Where is it?”

“Over there,” Delores pointed to a large crate sitting on a dolly near the door. “You can’t look at it now, dear. It’s all crated up.”

Hannah turned to the driver. Do you have a crowbar?”

“Got one in the truck.”

“I’ll need to use it. I have to uncrate that sewing machine and inspect it. It may contain evidence in a murder investigation.”

The driver, a large man who looked like he could handle a sledgehammer as well as a crowbar, stepped back a pace. “No way I want to have anything to do with a murder!”

“Then help me uncrate that sewing machine and you can go.”

“But how about the guy on the other end? He’s not gonna be happy when that sewing machine he bought doesn’t get delivered.”

“Oh, I don’t think he’ll mind,” Hannah said. “If I’m right about what’s inside that crate, he won’t be there to receive it anyway.”

“Ready?” Hannah said, lifting the lid the driver had loosened with his crowbar before he’d left and propping it up against the nearest wall. “Did you see them crate it, Mother?”

“They did it the day Burke bought it.”

“When was that?”

“Thursday afternoon. He came in with two carpenters from the crew to crate it for him.”

“It looks like it’s wrapped in furniture pads and then taped,” Hannah said using the scissors her mother handed her to cut the tape.

“It’s also secured on the inside. I watched Burke do it. He wrapped a strap around the top so it wouldn’t open or twist on the hinges, and he taped the drawers so they couldn’t bang open and closed during transit.”

“And he did it himself,” Hannah noted, unwrapping the pad and letting it fall to the bottom of the crate.

“Yes. I did think that was a little unusual, but then he told me why.”

“What did he tell you?”

“He said he knew he had to have that sewing machine the moment he set eyes on it. His mother died when he was only ten, you know, and she had one just like it. Every year, before school started, they used to go shopping for material so she could sew new shirts for him. He still has several of them. They’re keepsakes. And now he has a replica of the sewing machine, too.”

“Right,” Hannah said, not believing the story of the dead mother and the shirts for an instant. “So that’s why he offered you so much money for it?”

“That’s what he said. I pointed out that old Sears machines weren’t worth even half of what he offered, but he said he didn’t care, that he wanted that particular model. He said he was buying it in honor of his mother and he’d think of her every time he saw it. And he was also buying it because it was on the set and he wanted a memento of his very first movie.”

“Oh, brother!” Hannah breathed, wondering how her mother could have swallowed such a line. But then she reminded herself that Burke was a superlative actor and if he’d told her the same story, she probably would have fallen for it, too. It was entirely possible that Burke’s mother had owned a Sears sewing machine. Hundreds of thousands of women had. And it was also possible that Burke remembered that you could lift the lid and drop something inside to hide it from view. There was plenty of room around the sewing head to conceal an object the size of a revolver.

“So what did you find?” Delores asked.

“Nothing yet.” Hannah couldn’t pull out the drawers. The crate was built too snugly around the machine. But she didn’t worry about that because the deputies probably checked those. “I’m going to cut the strap and lift up the lid. If I’m right, that’s where Burke hid the prop gun after he put the real revolver in its place.”

“Wait,” Delores advised, opening a drawer and pulling out a pair of gloves. “Put these on. You don’t want to destroy any fingerprints.”

“Good thinking, Mother,” Hannah said, “but fingerprints don’t prove anything in this case. Everyone on the set saw Burke practice taking the prop gun out of the drawer right before the first take. He got his fingerprints on it then. And since he was using the real gun when he convinced Dean that he was having trouble doing the scene, his fingerprints are on that, too.”

“So he was only pretending he’d lost his motivation for the scene?” Delores asked.

“That’s my theory. And if I find the prop gun stuck in this sewing machine, I can prove it.”

Hannah held her breath as she cut the strap and lifted the lid. She felt around in the largest space between the bottom of the sewing machine head and the sewing platform and she began to smile.

“You found it?” Delores asked, interpreting her daughter’s smile to mean success.

“Oh, yes. Now all I have to do is…” Hannah stopped speaking and worked to extricate the gun. “Yes. Here it is!”

“So Burke just said he loved my sewing machine because he needed it to get rid of the evidence?”

“I’m afraid so, but at least it didn’t work. Let’s get back to the party and tell Mike what happened. He can arrest Burke.”

Delores looked worried. “I just hope Mike can catch him in time.”

“What do you mean?”

“When Burke danced with me earlier, he asked me to supervise the loading of the crate because he was leaving tonight. He said he had to drive back out to the inn, pack up his things, and catch a midnight flight out of Minneapolis.”

“A flight to where?”

“Somewhere in Europe. He told me he was taking a little vacation now that the movie was over. That’s why he made arrangements with the moving company to store the sewing machine until he got back.”

Hannah glanced at her watch. If Burke was taking an international flight, he had to arrive at the airport at least two hours in advance. That meant he had to leave the inn less than thirty minutes from now to make it on time.

“I need your help, Mother,” Hannah said, shrugging into her coat and pulling on her gloves. “Call the sheriff’s station, tell them it’s an emergency, and have them patch you through to Mike’s cell phone. Tell him Burke killed Dean and I found the prop gun to prove it.”

“Right away, dear. Where are you going?”

“Out to the inn. Tell Mike to meet me there just as fast as he can, and I’ll try to hold Burke until he arrives.”

Sixteen minutes later, Hannah barreled down the circular drive of the Lake Eden Inn. She’d probably broken the winter land speed record for the gravel road that wound through the trees to the inn, and every spring in her truck could testify to that fact. The leftover cookies that Lisa bagged every night and Hannah stored in her truck to use as samples now decorated the floorboards in the rear. Hannah knew because she’d heard them hit the sides of the truck when she’d taken the turns. One errant Oatmeal Raisin Crisp, centrifugally challenged by the sharp bends she’d taken just adjacent to the inn’s parking lot, had whizzed past her ear and was now sitting, slightly the worse for wear, on the passenger seat.

As Hannah approached the loading zone, four head-in spaces next to the entrance that were reserved for arriving and departing guests, she heard a car motor start. A second later, taillights went on and Hannah spotted Burke’s rental car, a sporty, bright yellow Toyota. She rolled down her window, zipped into the vacant space to the left of his car, and shouted out, “Hi, Burke!”

“Hi, Hannah. What are you doing out here?”

Hannah thought fast. “Mother told me you were leaving tonight, and I wanted to say good-bye.”

“’Bye, Hannah. It’s been a real pleasure knowing you. Your cookies are the best I’ve ever had.”

“Thanks.” Hannah glanced at the gravel road, but she didn’t see approaching headlights. Somehow she had to keep Burke talking until Mike got here.

“I have to run, Hannah. I’ve got a plane to catch. I’m going to London to do another commercial.”

“No you’re not!” Hannah shouted out. “Not until you answer some questions for me.”

Burke gave her a boyish grin, the same grin that set the hearts of every female between sixteen and sixty beating faster than normal. “That sounds serious. Don’t you know you shouldn’t be serious on a night like tonight?”

“Why not?” Hannah stalled for time.

“This is a night for celebrating. The movie’s going to be a huge success, your niece is going to be the toast of the silver screen, and your cat will be famous. What could be better than that?”

“Not much,” Hannah said, “except maybe the lead in Remember Last Tuesday.”

“What was that?”

Burke looked totally confused by what she’d just said, and Hannah would have sworn he’d never heard the movie title before if she hadn’t known better. “Remember Last Tuesday is the major motion picture that would have made you a star…” Hannah paused and let that sink in, “…except Dean Lawrence made a phone call and kept you from getting the part.”

“What are you talking about?”

Burke still looked baffled and it was disconcerting. For a brief second Hannah wondered if she could be wrong, but then she reminded herself that Burke was a very talented actor who could play any part, including innocent.

“Dean was angry about that interview you gave and he found a perfect way to get even. All it took was a couple of words to his important director friends, and your career was down the drain.”

Burke gave her a tight smile. “I don’t know if you’re crazy, or if you had too much to drink at the wrap party. Whatever it is, I think you’d better go home and sleep it off.”

About time! Hannah thought as she heard a siren in the distance. Mike was coming and she didn’t have to stall much longer. Within seconds, he’d pulled up on the other side of Burke’s car and was rolling down his window.

“What’s going on here?” Mike asked, looking at Hannah and then Burke.

“I want you to arrest Burke,” Hannah said, hoping that Delores had given him a satisfactory explanation. “He killed Dean.”

Burke laughed long and hard, and then he turned to Mike. “That’s the third time she’s said that and I don’t know what she’s talking about. You’d better take her home and sober her up. She’s got some ridiculous idea that I’m a murderer.”

“Is that right?” Mike addressed Hannah.

“That’s right. Dean wrecked Burke’s career and Burke got even by switching the revolvers. He stood right there and let Dean demonstrate the suicide and he knew the gun would go off.”

“Isn’t that the craziest story you’ve ever heard?” Burke was joviality personified as he beamed at Mike. “I don’t know where she gets her ideas, but I think she ought to try writing a movie script.” He pulled up his coat sleeve and made a big show of checking his watch. “If I don’t leave now, I’m going to miss my plane.”

“You can’t leave!” Hannah protested, glancing over at Mike. “Tell him he can’t leave, Mike.”

Mike shook his head. “Sorry, Hannah. It’s an interesting theory, but I don’t have enough evidence to hold Burke.” Mike turned to the actor and said, “You’re free to go.”

Burke gave a little wave and put his car in reverse. He was about to back out of the parking spot when Hannah grabbed the prop gun and aimed at him. “Stop or I’ll shoot!” she yelled.

“Hannah! Where did you get that revolver?” Mike looked shocked.

“From the sewing machine at Granny’s Attic.” Hannah answered, and then she turned to Burke again. “I’m a good shot, so don’t fool around with me. Get out of the car with your hands up, or I’ll shoot.”

“No, you won’t,” Burke said with a nasty laugh. “That gun doesn’t have a firing pin.”

“Gotcha!” Hannah said. And then she watched as the smug look on Burke’s face disappeared. “The only way you could know that is if you hid the prop gun in the sewing machine right after you switched revolvers. And you know what that means!”

Burke stepped on the gas, but Mike was quicker and his squad car shot back to block Burke’s exit. At the same time, a second squad car arrived with Lonnie Murphy at the wheel and his brother, Rick, riding shotgun. Literally. Rick had his department-issued twelve-gauge pointed at the driver’s side window of Burke’s yellow Toyota.

“Read him his rights and take him in,” Mike told his deputies and he stood by to watch them do it. It was only after they’d cuffed Burke, loaded him into the backseat of the squad car, and were pulling away that he walked over to Hannah’s cookie truck and leaned down to talk to her through the open window.

“Did you know all along that the revolver I had was the prop gun?” she asked.

“Sure I did. Your mother told me all about it.”

“I don’t understand. If you knew how Burke killed Dean and you knew that we’d found the prop gun, why did you wait to arrest him?”

“I wanted a little extra insurance, and we got it. Burke admitted in front of both of us that he knew the gun in the sewing machine didn’t have a firing pin.”

“And you were afraid that without that admission, Burke might convince a jury that he was innocent?”

“It’s possible. Don’t forget that he’ll be playing the part of a lifetime.” Mike leaned through the window and touched his lips to Hannah’s. “I’ve missed you, Hannah.”

“Because you were busy working on the murder investigation and I wasn’t with you?”

“Yup.” Mike moved forward and kissed her again, a little more deeply and a lot longer. “Guess I should’ve deputized you after all,” he said.

Chapter
Thirty-Three

Hannah glanced in the mirror as she fastened the pendant Ross had given her around her neck. The red stones in the miniature cherries sparkled brightly in the sun that was streaming in her bedroom window and flashed scarlet streaks against the wall. Ross had presented her with the pendant the previous night, right before he’d left for the airport and his flight to California. “Think of me every time you wear it,” he’d told her. “If Crisis in Cherrywood makes it to Cannes, I’ll send you a ticket.”

Then he’d pulled her into his arms and kissed her, and Hannah had been spared a reply. Of course she wanted to go to Cannes. Who wouldn’t want to go to Cannes? But wanting and actually going were two different things. She’d thought about it for hours after Ross had left, imagining what it would be like to be an important producer’s date at a gala movie premiere.

It seemed as if she’d just fallen asleep when the phone had rung this morning. It was Andrea and she’d sounded on top of the world when she’d invited Hannah to join them for a family brunch. It would be the usual crowd and Norman would pick her up. And now Hannah was sitting at Sally’s largest table at the Lake Eden Inn, directly across from Bill, who was resplendent in his raspberry pink shirt.

“I should have brought sunglasses,” Norman said under his breath, and Hannah hid a grin. Norman was right. On the linear brightness scale, Bill’s shirt was only a point or two short of eye-popping. Mike, who was sitting on Hannah’s other side and had overheard Norman’s comment, stifled a chuckle with his napkin.

Hannah smiled at Norman and then she turned to smile at Mike. On past occasions she’d resented the fact that she was always seated between them. She’d even made cracks about being the filling in a Mike and Norman sandwich. Today she didn’t mind at all. She’d upset their equilibrium by going out with Ross and it was time to reassure them. Ross was like an exotic dessert, a diversion to tingle the taste buds and make her savor her own life with a more discerning palate. He was like a baked Alaska flambéed with fine brandy, flashy and exciting, but not something you’d serve with an ordinary supper of meat and potatoes. Mike and Norman were more like…cookies. Cookies were something you could have every day without ever tiring of them.

The smile on Hannah’s face grew wider. If she had to choose their cookie types, Norman would be an Old-Fashioned Sugar Cookie, one of her very favorites. You couldn’t go wrong with an Old-Fashioned Sugar Cookie. It was perfect for any occasion and at any time of day.

Mike was different, and Hannah gave it some thought. She finally decided that he’d be a Black-and-White Cookie, perfectly shaped and gorgeous to look at. It was sweet on the outside, and darker and more intense once you got past the powdered sugar.

“Hannah?” Andrea raised her from her mental dessert game. “Come up to the buffet with me. I want you to show me which bar cookies you brought.”

Hannah made her excuses and got up to join Andrea at the dessert table. She pointed out the Ooey Gooey Chewy Cookie Bars she’d made in honor of the fact that Dean’s killer was behind bars, but Andrea simply nodded.

“I knew which ones they were,” she said. “I just wanted an excuse to talk to you alone.”

Hannah took a deep breath and prepared for bad news. Andrea and Bill had been smiling throughout the brunch, but that could have been for their mother’s benefit. “What is it?”

“Ronni Ward got engaged and she’s getting married next month!”

“That’s great news! When did this happen?”

“Last week in Miami. Remember when Lisa was trying to make me feel better and she said that maybe Ronni would meet another fitness instructor and they’d do exercises together?”

“I remember.”

“Well, that’s exactly what happened. Ronni met a personal trainer from The Cities and they’re going to open a studio together. Isn’t that just wonderful?”

“It certainly is.” Hannah swiveled around as someone tapped her on the shoulder. It was Michelle and she looked a bit dazed. “What’s wrong, Michelle? You look as if a strong wind could blow you over.”

“That’s because it could blow me over. Lonnie just told me that he entered me in the Miss Winnetka Beauty Contest.”

“He did it without asking you first?” Andrea asked the critical question.

“That’s right. He said he knew I was the prettiest girl in the county and he wanted everybody to see how beautiful I am. Is that crazy, or what?”

“Crazy in love,” Hannah offered, grinning a little. “That’s very sweet, and you don’t have to worry about it. If you get chosen as a finalist, you can always turn it down.”

“I was chosen as a finalist. Lonnie just told me. And I can’t turn it down.”

Andrea began to frown. “Why not?”

“Because Mother signed the papers agreeing I’d be a contestant.”

“Can she do that?” Hannah recovered enough to ask.

“Oh, yes. The rules say that if you’re under twenty-one, a parent can sign the forms for you.”

“Oh, boy!” Hannah muttered. “When is the contest?”

“In June. It’s part of the Winnetka County Fair. And I’m not going to college this summer, so I don’t have that for an excuse. I’m stuck, and I don’t know how to get out of it. But at least I’m not alone.”

“What do you mean?” Andrea asked.

“I’m not the only one Mother signed up. She entered you and Tracey in the Mother-Daughter Look-Alike Contest, and she entered Bethany in the Beautiful Baby contest.”

“Oh, for Pete’s sake!” Andrea said, but she didn’t look too upset.

Hannah burst out laughing. “I’m going to have fun at the fair this year. I can hardly wait to see both of you up there on stage.”

“Don’t laugh too hard,” Michelle warned.

“Why not?”

“Mother signed you up to judge the baked goods at the fair.”

“That’s fine with me. It sounds like fun.” Hannah smiled, but her smile turned into an anxious look as Michelle burst out laughing. “What?”

“Don’t crow yet. She also volunteered you for the Lake Eden Historical Society Booth.”

“That’s not so bad. I don’t mind passing out literature for the Historical Society.”

“It’s not literature this year.”

“It’s not?”

“No, they’re doing a fund-raiser. Have you ever seen the type of booth where a lady in a fancy silk dress and a parasol sits over a tank of water?”

Hannah gasped. Surely Mother wouldn’t do that to her! “Are you talking about the kind of booth where people try to hit a target with a baseball and dunk the lady?” she asked.

“That’s right. You’re in the booth from two to four on Saturday afternoon. According to Mother, that’s a heavy traffic period. And Bill says to tell you that Norman and Mike have already signed up with a coach to take pitching lessons!”

OOEY GOOEY CHEWY COOKIE BARS

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F., rack in the middle position

For the Crust:

½ cup white (granulated) sugar

¾ cup flour (not sifted)

1/3 cup unsweetened baking cocoa[***] (I used Hershey’s)

¼ teaspoon salt

½ stick melted butter ( ¼ cup– 1/8 pound)

For the Filling:

2 cups milk chocolate chips (I used Ghirardelli’s)

3 cups miniature marshmallows (pack them down in the cup)

1½ cups flaked coconut (pack it down when you measure it)

1 cup chopped nuts (I use either pecans, or walnuts)

1 can sweetened condensed milk (14 ounces)

Mix the sugar, flour, cocoa, and salt together in a medium-sized bowl. Drizzle the melted butter over the top of the bowl and mix it in with a fork. When the butter is incorporated, the mixture should resemble small beads. (You can also do this in the bowl of a food processor, using chilled butter and the steel blade.)

Spray a 9-inch by 13-inch cake pan with Pam (or other non-stick cooking spray) and dump the crust mixture in the bottom. Gently shake the pan to distribute evenly and then press it down a bit with a metal spatula.

Sprinkle the chips evenly over the crust layer. Sprinkle the marshmallows over that. Sprinkle the flaked coconut on next and then sprinkle on the chopped nuts. Press it down again with the metal spatula. Pour the sweetened condensed milk evenly over the top.

Bake the bars at 350 degrees F. for 25 to 30 minutes, or until the bars are nicely browned on top.

Let the bars cool on a rack. When they’re cool, cut them in brownie-sized pieces.

WARNING: DON’T REFRIGERATE THESE COOKIE BARS WITHOUT CUTTING THEM FIRST—THEY’RE VERY DENSE AND SOLID WHEN CHILLED.

A Note From Edna Ferguson, the Queen of “Cheat” Recipes: If you want a shortcut for the crust, just buy a chocolate cake mix and use half of it, dry, mixed with the melted stick of butter. (Keep the rest of the cake mix in an airtight bag and you can use it the next time you bake them.)

Kids really love these cookie bars, especially the name.

Index of Recipes

Cocalattas

Peanut Butter and Jam Cookies (PBJs)

Fruit Pocket French Toast

Sally’s Flourless Chocolate Cake

Cherry Cheesecake

Mock Turtle Cookies

Jane’s Mini Cherry Cheesecakes

All-Nighter Cookies

Chocolate Truffles

Cream Cheese Puffs

Double Flake Cookies

Lemon Cream Torte

Angel Kisses

Ooey Gooey Chewy Cookie Bars

Baking Conversion Chart

These conversions are approximate, but they’ll work just fine for Hannah Swensen’s recipes.

VOLUME:

Note: Hannah’s rectangular sheet cake pan, 9 inches by 13 inches, is approximately 23 centimeters by 32.5 centimeters.

It’s Tri-County fair time and Lake Eden, Minnesota, is buzzing with more than mosquitoes. Hannah Swensen, owner of The Cookie Jar, is hot on the trail of a killer whose perfect carnival prize would be getting away with murder…

It promises to be a busy week for Hannah Swensen. Not only is she whipping up treats for the chamber of commerce booth at the fair, she’s also judging the baking contest, acting as a magician’s assistant for her business partner’s husband, trying to coax Moishe—her previously rapacious feline—to end his hunger strike, and performing her own private carnival act by juggling the demands of her mother and sisters.

With so much on her plate, it’s no wonder Hannah finds herself on the midway only moments before the fair closes for the night. As the lights click off, she realizes that she’s not alone among the shuttered booths and looming carnival attractions. After hearing a suspicious thump, she goes snooping only to discover Willa Sunquist, a student teacher and fellow bake contest judge, dead alongside an upended key lime pie. But who would want to kill Willa and why? Before long Hannah is sifting through motives and a list of suspects that include a high school student Willa flunked, the hot-blooded brothers of a disqualified beauty contestant, a rodeo cowboy, a baking competitor who failed to win her yearly blue ribbon, and the college professor Willa was dating.

As fair week draws to a close, Hannah cranks up the heat, hoping that the killer will get rattled and make a mistake. If that happens she intends to be there, even if it means getting on a carnival ride that could very well be her last…

Please turn the page for an exciting sneak peek at
Joanne Fluke’s
KEY LIME PIE MURDER
coming next month in hardcover!

Hannah felt a bit like a salmon swimming upstream as she headed for the Lake Eden Historical Society booth. It was never easy bucking a crowd. Everyone seemed to be streaming toward the exit in a giant wave. She doubted that the bag with Moishe’s Paul Bunyan Burger was still where she’d left it, but she had to find out.

“Excuse me,” Hannah said, resisting the urge to elbow three high school boys walking with their girlfriends six abreast. But they didn’t even notice her, so Hannah stepped aside to let them past. This happened more times than she could count as she treaded water in the sea of humanity and darted forward against the surge of boisterous fairgoers whenever she saw an opening.

“Aren’t you leaving?” someone shouted out, and Hannah turned to see Carrie passing her.

“Yes, in a second. Did I leave…” Hannah’s voice trailed off. It was too late. Carrie had passed her in the opposite directly and she couldn’t possibly hear Hannah’s question.

“’Bye, dear,” Delores hailed her. Hannah’s mother and her two companions, Bernie “No-No” Fulton and Wingo Jones, were being carried along on a tide of humanity that was heading for the turnstile at the exit. If there’d been any doubt in Hannah’s mind about the identity of the person who’d contacted the Triple A pitcher and invited him to visit the dunking booth, it was now erased.

“’Bye, Mother,” Hannah shouted back. No sense in asking Delores if her takeout burger bag was still at the booth. Her mother was already several booth-lengths away and there was no way Hannah could make herself heard over the din of the crowd.

Hannah considered her options. It was obvious that the Lake Eden Historical Society booth was closed since she’d seen both her mother and Carrie leaving. Finding the bag with Moishe’s burger was unlikely, but she’d come this far despite the aggravation of opposing human traffic, and she might as well finish her quest.

She made good progress for several more feet and then things came to a standstill. There was no way she could paddle upstream any longer. Hannah accepted the inevitable and moved laterally, heading for a handy booth where she could wait out the rush.

The Tri-County Dairy booth beckoned and Hannah flattened herself against the shuttered front. She found an anchor of sorts, a giant milk bottle carved from wood and painted white. She held on as the crowd surged past her, hoping that no one would bump into her and knock her from her feet. She’d wait until the foot traffic had thinned, and then she’d set out for the historical society booth again.

Over the next several minutes, Hannah called hello to at least two dozen people she knew and the lights flickered several more times. At last the crowd thinned out and Hannah set off for her mother’s booth. It didn’t take long to get there and she met only one or two people walking rapidly in the direction of the gate.

By the time Hannah arrived, panting slightly, the lights had flickered on and off again. She was too late. The wooden shutters that served as counters were raised and padlocked shut. Hannah walked around to the side, where the dunking stool was located, and gave a dejected sigh. These counters were also locked into place, tightly shuttering the booth for the night. She should have known the futility of coming all the way back to the booth. If her mother or Carrie had found the bag when they were closing, they would have thrown it away.

“Trashed,” Hannah muttered, wondering how she was going to explain this to Lisa and Herb. But then she realized what she’d said and looked quickly around for the nearest trash container. If no one had emptied the trash yet, Moishe could be feasting on hamburger tonight.

A fifty-gallon drum painted red and labeled TRASH in big black letters stood only feet from the side of the booth. Hannah set her key lime pie on the ground next to the trashcan, glad that she’d found a bakery box to put it in, and peeked inside the receptacle. There was a white bag right on top and it certainly looked like the one she’d left on the counter.

Hannah sent up a silent plea for luck and good fortune, and then she opened the bag, hoping that it didn’t contain any gross leftovers. She was almost afraid to look, but she did. And then she grinned from ear to ear. There was Moishe’s Paul Bunyan Burger, still neatly wrapped in wax paper that was stamped with the green and white logo of the Burger Shack.

Hannah tucked the bag inside her shoulder bag purse and picked up the pie box again. She’d accomplished her mission and now it was time to get back to the gate to meet Mike before he fell asleep on the bench and someone locked her in for the night.

As she walked, Hannah began to feel uneasy. Everyone else had left and the only noise was the sound of her own footfalls. The thump of her rubber soles hitting the dirt was deafening in the surrounding silence, and she resisted the urge to tiptoe. There was something very unnerving about being alone on the midway at night.

She was just passing the Family Farms Association booth when everything went black. Hannah came to a standstill and reached out to steady herself against the mechanical bull. Rather than just a saddle and a mechanism that bucked and swiveled, this bull looked like a real Brahma bull and cost five dollars to ride.

For a moment Hannah just stood there gripping the bull’s ear, feeling even more apprehensive and wondering how she was ever going to find her way to the gate in the darkness. There were occasional flashes of heat lightning way off in the distance, but that provided no real illumination. She could hear a low rumbling, barely audible. Thunder? Whatever it was, it added to Hannah’s growing apprehension.

She told herself not to panic. She’d just wait for her eyes to adjust and pick her way to Mike, lifting her feet high so she wouldn’t trip over any ropes or cables. She was about to set out when there was a hollow clunk, as if someone had thrown the lever on a transformer, and a long string of dim lights went on overhead.

If Hannah hadn’t been so nervous, she might have chided herself for borrowing trouble. Of course they had nightlights on the midway. It was a safety precaution and it probably served to discourage kids from climbing the fence and sneaking in after hours.

Although the lighting was by no means bright, now she could make out the rectangles of the shuttered booths and the looming, almost menacing shapes of the carnival rides. Hannah shivered even though the night was hot and her skin felt slick with moisture. It wasn’t good being here alone. It wasn’t good at all.

As she made her halting way forward, Hannah kept to the center of the path, her eyes scanning the shadows for movement. Every bad horror movie she’d ever seen flashed through her mind and she thought about what she might use for a weapon if someone or something emerged from the darkness. There was her shoulder bag purse. It was heavy enough to knock someone off balance, especially if she swung it in an arc. The key lime pie she was carrying could be used to render someone temporarily blind. It was a terrible waste of a first-place-winning dessert, but if push came to shove, she wouldn’t hesitate to use it. If she took it out of the box and shoved the sticky meringue right in an assailant’s face, it would take him a minute or so to wipe it from his eyes. By that time she’d be well on her way to the gate to alert Mike.

Hannah walked on, but her mind was in turmoil. The old adage against borrowing trouble was warring with the advice to be prepared. The Boy Scout motto won, hands down. She stopped at the next trashcan she passed and removed the pie, tossing the bakery box on top of the refuse the evening’s fairgoers had left behind them.

Now she had a purse and a pie to use in her defense. Hannah gave a little sigh. Somehow that didn’t seem like much. For the very first time in her life, she wished that she were wearing a pair of Andrea’s stiletto-heeled shoes. Then she could slip one off and do real damage to anyone or anything that threatened her. Of course that was silly. If she’d been wearing a pair of her sister’s stilettos, she wouldn’t be in this position in the first place. There was no way she could walk in heels that high, much less fit into shoes that were four sizes too small for her.

She’d just passed the Tri-County Volunteer Fire Department’s Red Hot Ring-Toss booth when she heard a noise that couldn’t be explained by the nonexistent wind, or any small furry creature that made the fairgrounds its home. It was the sound of something heavy striking something composed of flesh and bone. Hannah wasn’t sure how she knew that, but she did. And her blood ran cold.

“Is someone there?” she called out before she’d had time to consider the wisdom of speaking. And then she did, and she wished she could call back her words. Now the person who’d struck the blow she’d heard knew that he wasn’t alone on the midway. And he also knew approximately how far away and in which direction she was.

Open mouth, insert foot, Hannah thought, but she didn’t stand still to think about it. She knew she had to get away fast and that’s exactly what she proceeded to do. But as she scurried away, her brain wasn’t idle. She was almost certain the sound she’d heard had come from a booth across the path and around the corner, no more than three booths from where she’d been standing. If she remembered the layout of the midway correctly, that was where the shooting gallery was located.

But it hadn’t been a gunshot. Hannah was sure of that. She tried to forget about the heavy object striking flesh and bone and considered what other things might produce a sound like it. It could have been someone kicking a hollow rubber ball with considerable force. Or someone striking a ripe melon with a baseball bat. Or a sledge hammer hitting…Hannah gave a little shiver. She didn’t want to think about this now. Whatever it was, it was ominous. Right now she had to get as far away from the shooting gallery as possible!

Heart pounding hard and her senses on full alert, Hannah scuttled down the line of booths, keeping to the shadows and doing her best to move quickly, carefully and silently. One misstep and he’d know where she was. She’d just reached the end of the row of booths when she heard a second thunk. Whoever it was hadn’t moved and that meant he hadn’t heard her. Hannah took advantage of the moment to dart around the corner, putting even more distance between them.

She was at the side of the Strong Man Booth, where fairgoers could win a Strong Man badge if they pounded a mallet onto a metal bed with enough force to make a ball scoot all the way up the vertical shaft to ring the bell at the top. Hannah took refuge behind several bales of hay placed there as a makeshift barrier to keep observers from getting too close to the prospective Strong Man and the mallet.

All was silent, perfectly silent. Hannah resisted the urge to slap at a mosquito that landed on her cheek and remained motionless. She crouched there for long minutes that seemed like hours, wondering if whatever or whoever she’d heard could hear her breathing or the rapid beating of her heart.

Was it safe to move yet? Hannah wasn’t sure so she didn’t. Instead she swiveled her head slowly, examining her surroundings and committing every shape and shadow to memory. Mike had told her that trick, not long after they’d first met. He said cops on a stakeout got tired after a while and thought they saw things that weren’t there. He examined everything at the start so that his mind would sound an internal alarm if anything in his visual pattern changed.

As Hannah huddled there, trying to make as small a configuration as possible, her mind spun through the possibilities. Someone was here on the deserted midway with her. The noise she’d heard proved that. She didn’t think it was another late fairgoer rushing toward the exit and tripping over a rope or a stake. If that had happened, she would have heard groaning, or cries for help. She supposed it could have been a carnival worker locking up a little late, or coming back to secure something or other he’d forgotten. But if it had been a carnival worker, he would have answered her when she called out. This person was up to no good. His silence proved that.

Hannah drew her breath in sharply. The Strong Man mallet was gone. When she’d walked past the booth earlier in the day, it had been on a chain next to the vertical shaft. The chain was still there. She could see it on the ground, glistening slightly in the dim glow from the string of lights. Had they locked the mallet inside the booth for the night? Or had someone taken it, used it to hit someone else, and was in the process of bringing it back so that no one would know…

And there he was! And it was too late to run! Hannah did what any strong, courageous, modern Minnesota-born woman might have done in the same circumstance. She shut her eyes and attempted to become one with the hay.

Of course it didn’t work. There was no way she was going to huddle here waiting for him to find her and whack her with the mallet, too. Not only that, if she did escape his notice, she wanted to be able to give the authorities a good description.

Hannah opened her eyes, inched toward the side of the hay bale and risked a peek. But the light was too dim. All she saw was a shadowy figure bending over the chain to reattach the mallet. She pulled her head back and listened for the sound of footfalls coming her way. She was almost positive that he hadn’t spotted her, not unless he was a sideshow attraction and he had eyes in the back of his head. Still, it was better to be safe than sorry and she readied the pie for action.

Long moments passed as she listened intently, alert for the slightest sound. She imagined that her ears swiveled independently like little satellite dishes, the way Moishe’s ears did when he heard a mouse in the walls. The hair at the base of her neck prickled in apprehension and she made her breathing shallow and almost inaudible. Except for the far-off sound of a dog barking in a neighboring farmyard, the muted swoosh of cars on the highway, and the faint rumble of thunder in the distance, all was deathly quiet.

And then she heard it. He was moving again. She had the key lime pie in a death grip, ready to hurl it at the slightest provocation, but the sound grew fainter with each passing heartbeat. He was moving away from her, running away from her hiding place. He hadn’t seen her! She was safe!

But where had he gone? The moment Hannah thought of it, she stood up and moved to the front of the booth. Her eyes scanned the midway for movement and found none. Had she been too slow? But then she spotted him disappearing around the side of the Tilt-A-Whirl.

It was safe for her to go now and Hannah knew what she should do. She should head straight for the gate where Mike was waiting for her. She should tell him what happened, and he could take over from here on out. He’d hammered that point home often enough. He was the detective, and she was not. If she thought something was wrong, she should tell him and he would take care of it. Her caution should win out over her curiosity.

Hannah leaned against the booth to let her breathing return to normal and her heartbeats slow to a reasonable rate. The moment she told Mike, he’d turn on the bright lights and investigate. But what if the sounds she’d heard had been perfectly innocent and nothing at all was wrong? She’d look like a first-class fool in front of a man she admired and could possibly even love.

There was only one thing to do. Perhaps it was the wrong thing, but that had never stopped her before. Hannah straightened up, stretched to relieve her cramped muscles, and headed off toward the shooting gallery. She’d check it out first, before she raised the alarm. And if she was right and something was wrong, she’d head for the gate and sound the alarm immediately.

The sounds seemed magnified as Hannah headed down the row of booths. A slight breeze picked up and she almost jumped out of her skin as the plastic flags fluttered over the booths. They sounded as loud as the flock of crows that used to land in her grandfather’s cornfield, the ones her Grandma Ingrid refused to chase off because she was partial to crows. Hannah’s every instinct told her she was heading into trouble, and she was likely to discover something she didn’t want to find. She knew she should turn tail and run for Mike, but instead she forged ahead, each footstep deliberate and even, drawing her inevitably closer to the shooting gallery. She was like Moishe who still occasionally pushed the cold water lever in the shower, even though he’d gotten drenched several times in the past.

When she arrived at the shooting gallery, Hannah took a deep breath. It was show time. She was convinced it would be either, or. Either she’d find something horrible, or she’d find nothing at all. In the dim light from the single string of lights high overhead, the teddy bear prizes lined up in rows inside the glass front of the booth seemed to be staring at a point just around the corner. Hannah rounded the corner, stopped short, and felt herself assume the same glassy-eyed stare. Someone was sprawled out in the dirt. It was a woman, Hannah could tell because she was wearing a dress. And she was perfectly motionless.

Hannah’s mind spun. This was the time to go after Mike, but of course she couldn’t. What if this poor woman was injured and in need of immediate help. She knew CPR. She could even fashion a tourniquet if she absolutely had to.

Her need to help another human being in trouble drew her forward. The woman was facedown in the dirt, and Hannah was about to reach for her wrist to feel for a pulse when she saw the back of her head. This caused her to step back without taking her pulse or touching her. No aid she could give would make a particle of difference. This woman was quite dead and Hannah hoped that it had been quick. Blunt force trauma didn’t make for a kind demise.

The woman’s skirt pulled up a bit in back, a result of the way she’d fallen, and Hannah reached out to tug it down. It wouldn’t make any difference to her now, but there should be dignity in death. And once she’d fixed the woman’s skirt and straightened up again, Hannah had an awful realization.

“No!” Hannah gulped. She took one halting step closer and the pie dropped from her nerveless fingers. She’d seen and admired this dress before, no more than an hour ago!

Hannah stared down at the bits of meringue and key lime pie filling that were scattered on the ground. She couldn’t just stand here. She had to get moving and go after Mike. He needed to know about this.

“Hannah?”

Mike’s voice rang out loud and clear, as if she had summoned him by mental telepathy. But she wasn’t sure she believed in things like that. It must be a coincidence, a wonderful coincidence. And if she could only find her voice, she could answer him.

“Where are you, Hannah?”

“Here,” Hannah answered, finding her voice at last. Of course her answer wouldn’t do him much good. Here could mean anywhere. Her one-word answer wasn’t descriptive enough. On the other hand, Mike was the head detective at the Winnetka County Sheriff’s Department and he ought to be able to figure it out.

“Where’s here?” Mike asked, and his voice sounded closer.

Hannah had the insane urge to tell him he was getting warmer. It was almost as if they were playing her favorite childhood game, the one where someone leaves the room, the group hides something, the person comes back in, and the group directs them to the hidden object by telling them whether they’re warmer or colder.

But this is no game, Hannah’s mind told her. It’s all too real and you have to answer him. She took a deep breath and did what her mind had suggested. “I’m around the side of the shooting gallery,” she said.

“You sound weird. What’s the matter?”

Hannah opened her mouth to answer, but she was too busy wondering how he could run and ask questions at the same time. He didn’t even sound winded! She certainly couldn’t do it, but then she was at least twenty pounds overweight, and she’d been about to add to that total by ordering a deep-fried, cookie-battered Milky Way until he’d caught her standing in front of the booth.

“Hannah? I asked you what was the matter?”

Hannah sighed. He’d be here any second and then he could see for himself. But he’d asked and his question deserved an answer. “Dead,” she said.

“Someone’s dead?” Mike asked, rounding the corner with the speed of an Olympic hopeful. “Who?”

“Willa Sunquist,” Hannah identified the victim for him before her legs gave way and she sank down to the ground to stare back at the glass-eyed teddy bears.

*** It’s not absolutely positively necessary that you use coconut extract, but the cookies will be much more delicious if you do. If you can’t find it, or you’re making these in the middle of a blizzard and you can’t get to the store, just use vanilla.

*** If you don’t like canned pie filling, make your own with canned or frozen cherries, sugar, and cornstarch.

***Use brick cream cheese, the kind that comes in a rectangular package. Don’t use whipped cream cheese unless you want to experiment—whipped cream cheese, or low-fat, or Neufchatel might work, but I don’t know that for sure.

***Hellmann’s Mayonnaise is also known as Best Foods Mayonnaise in some parts of the country.

*** You can find unsweetened baking cocoa in the baking aisle of your grocery store. Make sure you get an American brand—some of the others are Dutch process and they won’t work in this recipe. Also be careful not to get cocoa mix, the kind you’d use to make hot chocolate or chocolate milk.

A HANNAH SWENSEN MYSTERY WITH RECIPES

LEMON MERINGUE PIE MURDER

JOANNE FLUKE

*The orange zest adds a burst of flavor. Zest is finely grated orange peel, just the orange part, not the white. You can use a grater to scrape peel from an orange, or a zester which removes thin layers of peel in strips. If you use a zester, you’ll have to finely chop the strips of peel with a knife.

LEMON MERINGUE PIE MURDER

“Maybe I’d better check on Mother. She’s been down there a long time.”

“I’ll go with you.” Norman led the way to the basement doorway. “Delores? Are you all right down there?”

Hannah stood behind Norman, waiting for her mother to respond. When there was no answer, she felt a jolt of fear. “Move over, Norman. I’m going down there.”

“Not without me, you’re not.” Norman had gone down three steps when he stopped abruptly. “Here she comes, now. Back up to give her room.”

Hannah backed up, but she gazed over Norman’s shoulder to watch her mother climb the stairs. Delores didn’t appear to be hurt, but her mouth was set in a tight line. Something had happened in the basement. And judging by the way her mother was gripping the handrail, that something wasn’t good.

“You look like you just saw a ghost,” Hannah commented and immediately wished she hadn’t when her mother’s face turned even paler.

Delores gave a small smile, so small that it could only be classified as a grimace. “Not a ghost. I found…a body!”

Books by Joanne Fluke

CHOCOLATE CHIP COOKIE MURDER

STRAWBERRY SHORTCAKE MURDER

BLUEBERRY MUFFIN MURDER

LEMON MERINGUE PIE MURDER

FUDGE CUPCAKE MURDER

SUGAR COOKIE MURDER

PEACH COBBLER MURDER

CHERRY CHEESECAKE MURDER

KEY LIME PIE MURDER

CANDY CANE MURDER

CARROT CAKE MURDER

CREAM PUFF MURDER

Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation

This book is for The Great Nicky Borzoi
We miss you, boy.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Thank you to Ruel, who stops the trucks from getting through.

Thanks to our kids, who know that the cookie jar is bottomless.

Thank you to our friends and neighbors:
Mel & Kurt (our gardening angels), Lyn & Bill, Gina, Jay, Bob M., Amanda, John B. & Walt, Dr. Bob & Sue, and everyone who asked for that fifth cookie.

A huge thank-you to my editor, John Scognamiglio, for his talent, his constant support, and his encouragement.
And thanks to all the good folks at Kensington who help Hannah Swensen bake up a storm.

Thank you to Hiro Kimura for his delightful cover art. Lemon pie never looked so good…or so menacing. A big hug for Terry Sommers and her Wisconsin family for critiquing my recipes. (I may have to forgive you for preferring the Packers.)

My thanks to Nicole, who tests my cookies in Illinois, and to Mom and Betty Jacobson, for their lemon pie tips. Kudos to Jamie Wallace for making MurderSheBaked.com a great Web site.

And a big thank-you to all my e-mail friends who share their thoughts, their baking tips, and their love for Hannah Swensen and Lake Eden, with me.
I’ve included an extra cookie recipe for you.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Baking Conversion Chart

Chapter
One

H annah Swensen was startled awake at four forty-seven in the morning. Two feral eyes were staring down at her. She batted out at them and they vanished, leaving an accusatory yowl floating in their wake.

“This is my pillow, not yours!” Hannah muttered, retrieving it and settling it in, under her head. But before she could close her eyes for the few precious minutes of sleep that remained until her alarm clock blared, guilt set in. She’d never slapped out at Moishe before. Her orange and white tomcat had taken enough abuse while he was living on the streets. His left ear was torn and he was blind in one eye, a reminder of how he’d once fought to survive. In the time since Hannah had invited him in to share her condo, they’d become friends. Now that friendship was in jeopardy. If worse came to worst, Moishe might never trust her again.

“I’m sorry, Moishe. Come here and I’ll scratch your ears.” Hannah patted the sheets, hoping for feline forgiveness. “I’d never really hurt you. You should know that by now. You just scared me, that’s all.”

There was another yowl, a bit less irate this time, coming from the floor by the foot of her bed. Hannah patted the sheets again and she felt a thump as Moishe landed on the mattress. All was forgiven and that made her feel good, but now that she was wide awake, her neck began to twinge with a vengeance. Moishe must have commandeered her pillow shortly after she’d gone to bed and now she was paying the price of his comfort. The only cure for her sore neck would be a long hot shower before she went to work.

“Fine. I’m up,” Hannah grumbled, reaching out to flick off her alarm. “I’ll get your breakfast. Then I’ll shower.”

Once she’d found her slippers, Hannah padded down the hallway to the kitchen. She flicked on the light and opened the window to catch any early morning breezes that might be lurking outside her condo complex, but only warm, muggy air greeted her. Lake Eden, Minnesota, was in the middle of an unseasonable heat wave, unusual weather for the tail end of June, and the nights were almost as hot as the days.

Moishe took up a position by his food bowl and gazed at her expectantly. His tail was flicking back and forth like a metronome, and Hannah wondered idly whether she could attach a fan and harness all that energy.

“Patience is a virtue,” Hannah muttered, quoting her mother. Then she remembered that the admonition hadn’t worked on her, either. “I’m getting your breakfast right now, even before my first cup of coffee. If that isn’t an apology, I don’t know what is!”

Moishe’s tail continued swishing as Hannah went to the broom closet and opened the padlock she’d installed on the door. Some people might think that the padlock was overkill, but Moishe got insecure every time he could see a bare patch at the bottom of his food and he wasn’t shy about helping himself from the mother lode. Tired of sweeping up spilled kitty crunchies, Hannah had attempted to secure her stock by several unsuccessful methods. Moishe had conquered a bungee cord, a new heavy-duty latch, and a hook-and-eye fastener. When her determined feline roommate wanted food, he turned into a regular Houdini. No lock could stop him for long.

Once Moishe was crunching contentedly, Hannah poured herself a cup of coffee and headed off to the shower. Today was Friday and it promised to be a busy day. Not only was Friday Pie Day at The Cookie Jar, Hannah’s bakery and coffee shop, she had to fill an order for five batches of Old-Fashioned Sugar Cookies. The order had come from a Minneapolis caterer and the cookies were for a wedding reception.

Hannah and her partner, Lisa Herman, had mixed up the cookie dough before they’d locked up the previous night. Hannah would bake the cookies and then the pies, Lemon Meringue this week, before Lisa came in at seven-thirty. It was Lisa’s job to decorate the cookies with the initials of the bride and groom, “PP” for Pamela Pollack and “TH” for Toby Heller.

After a few minutes under the steaming spray, Hannah’s neck pain had faded into a dull ache. Since the KCOW weatherman had predicted that today could be one of the hottest days of the summer, she decided to wear her lightest-weight slacks, the ones she’d chosen last summer on a rare shopping trip with her sister, Andrea. Hannah stepped into the slacks and struggled as she attempted to pull them up. Even with the zipper wide open, she couldn’t get them past her hips. They hadn’t been this tight when she’d tried them on in the dressing room!

Hannah eyed her straining slacks balefully. She’d gained weight, a lot of it. It was bad enough being the tallest one in her petite family and the only daughter who’d inherited her father’s unruly red hair. Now she was also overweight. It was time to go on a diet whether she liked it or not.

Visions of an endless stream of salads with low-cal dressing danced through Hannah’s head as she peeled off the slacks and rummaged in the closet for a pair with an elastic waistband. Jogging was out. She hated it and she didn’t have the time anyway. Joining a gym wasn’t possible, either. The nearest gym was out at the mall and she’d never drive out there to use it. As much as the prospect sickened, she’d just have to limit her intake of food. It was the only possible way for her to shed the weight she’d gained.

Hannah turned to glance at the bathroom scale. She knew it was only her imagination, but it looked coiled and ready, like a rattlesnake set to strike. She told herself the sensible thing would be to weigh herself now, to see how much she needed to lose. She even took a step toward the scale, but she stopped when her heart began to pound and her palms grew damp. When was the last time she’d stepped on the scale? It had to have been at least six months ago. Perhaps she should diet for a week and then weigh in. That way the shock wouldn’t be so severe. At least coffee didn’t have calories. She’d have another cup and decide later about when she should weigh herself.

The hands of her apple-shaped kitchen clock were approaching five-twenty by the time Hannah finished her third cup of coffee. She refilled Moishe’s food bowl and poured the rest of her coffee into the car carrier Bill Todd, her brother-in-law, had given her two Christmases ago.

“’Bye, Moishe. Be good while I’m gone,” Hannah said, giving him a scratch under the chin and then slinging her saddlebag-sized purse over her shoulder. “I may be condemned to lettuce for supper, but I promise that you’ll get a big bowl of…”

Hannah broke off in mid-sentence as the kitchen wall phone rang. It had to be her mother. No one but Delores would call her this early. For a fleeting second, Hannah thought about letting the answer machine pick up, but her mother would just track her down later, perhaps at an even more inconvenient time. There was no sense in delaying the inevitable.

The phone pealed a second time and Moishe turned his back on it, sticking his haunches in the air and flicking his tail. Hannah laughed, amused at his antics. Delores was not one of Moishe’s favorite people. She was still laughing as she grabbed the phone and answered, “Hello, Mother.”

There was silence on the other end of the line and then Hannah heard a chuckle, a male chuckle. “I’m not your mother.”

“Norman?” Hannah plopped her purse on the kitchen table and sat down in a chair. Norman Rhodes was one of her favorite people and she dated him occasionally. “What are you doing up this early?”

“I always get up this early. I wanted to catch you before you left. Hannah, I need a favor.”

“What is it?” Hannah asked, smiling as she pictured Norman. She could hear water running and she knew he was making coffee in his mother’s kitchen. Norman wasn’t what most people would call handsome, but Hannah liked his looks. He had the kind of face people instinctively trusted.

“Will you reserve a big table at the rear of The Cookie Jar for me at nine-thirty this morning?”

“I can’t,” Hannah said with a grin.

“Why not?”

Hannah laughed outright. “Because I don’t have any big tables. They’re all the same size. How about if I push two together for you?”

“That’d be fine. I’ve got some exciting news, Hannah.”

“Really?” Hannah glanced up at the clock. She was running late, but that was all right. The pies wouldn’t take long. She’d baked the crusts before she’d left work yesterday, and all she had to do was cook the filling and put on the meringue. She wanted to talk to Norman. She’d just work a little faster when she got to her cookie shop.

“I made an offer on a house and it’s been accepted.”

“You bought a house?” Hannah hadn’t had an inkling that Norman was in the market for a house.

“That’s right, and I want to sign the papers this morning before the seller changes her mind. I got a really good deal on the Voelker place.”

“That’s wonderful,” Hannah said, hoping that Norman knew what he was getting into. The Voelker place was a wreck. It was on a nice piece of land overlooking Eden Lake, the body of water that was within Lake Eden’s city limits, but the house hadn’t been modernized in over six decades. “Are you going to remodel it?”

“It needs too many improvements for that. I just bought it for the land. I’m going to tear it down and build our dream house.”

Hannah wondered if she’d heard him correctly. “Did you say our dream house?”

“That’s exactly what I said. I’m talking about the one we designed for that contest we won. Those plans were perfect, Hannah. It’s a great house and it’ll be a real showplace.”

Hannah was speechless, a real rarity for her. She’d helped Norman design the plans and she’d been ecstatic when they’d won the contest. They’d split the prize money and she now had a window air conditioner in her kitchen at The Cookie Jar, eight new ceiling fans that had been mounted in the coffee shop, and new shelving that was being installed in her pantry. Their dream house was a great house, but Hannah had never in her wildest imaginings thought that Norman would actually build it! What was he going to do rattling around in a four-bedroom, three-bath, split-level home anyway?

A frown appeared on Hannah’s brow. Certainly Norman wasn’t planning on living there alone. Had he assumed that she was going to marry him without bothering to ask? And if he wasn’t about to propose to her, did he have someone else in mind?

“I guess I must have shocked you,” Norman said with a chuckle. “You’ve never been quiet for this long before.”

Hannah nodded, even though she knew that Norman couldn’t see it. “You shocked me, all right. I can’t believe you’re actually going to build it.”

“Well, I am. Living with Mother is a real pain. Every time I leave the house, she asks me where I’m going and what time I’ll be back. I know she means well, but she can’t seem to accept that I’m an adult.”

“I know that feeling,” Hannah sympathized. Carrie Rhodes had been attempting to control Norman’s life ever since he’d come back to Lake Eden to take over the family dental business. “Was your mother upset when you told her that you were moving out?”

“She doesn’t know yet. I’m going to tell her at breakfast this morning. She’s been complaining about how they need more storage space for Granny’s Attic and I’m sure she’ll be glad to get all of my stuff out of her garage.”

Hannah clamped her lips firmly shut. Why shatter Norman’s illusions? It was true that Granny’s Attic, the antique shop their mothers had opened, needed more off-site storage space, but that wouldn’t keep Carrie from being upset. Hannah was sure she’d be fit to be tied that Norman had made a decision without consulting her.

“I still can’t believe how I lucked into the house. You knew that Rhonda Scharf inherited it, didn’t you?”

“I knew,” Hannah said. Rhonda was a regular on the Lake Eden gossip hotline and everyone in town knew about her inheritance. The day after her great-aunt’s will had been read, Rhonda had come into Lake Eden Realty and listed the house with Hannah’s sister, Andrea. “Does Andrea know that you bought the house?”

“Of course. Rhonda called her last night and Andrea advised her to accept my offer.”

“Well…that’s good,” Hannah said, wondering why Andrea hadn’t called to tell her. What were sisters for if they didn’t share news like that?

“I told everyone to meet me at The Cookie Jar. There’ll be four of us, and I thought you could be a witness. You will, won’t you?”

“Of course I will.”

“Good. I’ll see you at nine-thirty then. This is a big step for me, Hannah.”

“I know it is. Congratulations, Norman.” Hannah was frowning as she hung up the phone. Of course she was happy for Norman, but she was royally miffed at her younger sister. Andrea liked to sleep in until seven, but Hannah picked up the phone and started to punch in her sister’s number. Even though Hannah had been out late last night, catering coffee and cookies at a bridal shower, Andrea could have left a message!

Just as the call was about to connect, Hannah glanced over at her answer machine. The little red light for incoming messages was blinking frantically. Andrea had called, several times by the looks of it. Hannah slammed the phone back in the cradle before it could ring and retrieved her messages. There were six and every one of them was from Andrea. When Hannah had come home from her catering job, she’d been too tired to check for messages. And she’d forgotten all about it this morning.

Hannah had just finished erasing Andrea’s messages when the phone rang again. Delores? Andrea? Hannah grabbed it on the second ring, wondering if she’d ever get the chance to skin out the door.

“Hannah?” It was Norman again. “Sorry to bother you twice in one morning, but do you still have that pen I gave you for Christmas?”

Hannah’s eyebrows shot up. How quickly they forgot! “You didn’t give me a pen. You gave me a silk scarf and a gold circle pin.”

“I know. That was your real gift for under the tree. I’m talking about the giveaway pens from the Rhodes Dental Clinic. You didn’t throw yours away, did you?”

“Of course I didn’t. I thought it was cute. I’ve never had a pen shaped like a toothbrush before. It’s right here…somewhere.”

“Could you look? I saved some, but they’re in a box in Mother’s garage and I don’t have time to look for them. I thought it would be a nice touch if I used one to sign the papers. It’s not critical or anything, but the pens were my dad’s design, and since he can’t be here, I…”

“I’ll look right now,” Hannah interrupted him. “Hold on a second.”

Hannah put down the phone, upended her purse, and dumped the contents on the surface of the kitchen table. There were at least two dozen pens and pencils, but the one from the Rhodes Dental Clinic wasn’t among them. She stuffed everything back inside her purse and checked the cracked coffee mug on the table that served as her penholder. No Rhodes Dental pen there, either.

“Sorry, Norman,” Hannah said, getting back on the phone to report. “I checked my purse and the pen jar on the table, but it’s not there.”

“How about your bed table? You told me you always keep a pen and steno pad handy in case you get an inspiration for a recipe in the middle of the night.”

Hannah was surprised. She didn’t recall mentioning that to Norman. “I’ll check before I leave. If I find it, I’ll bring it down to the shop with me.”

Hannah hung up the phone and headed back to her bedroom. It was clear that Norman was nervous about buying his first house. Becoming a homeowner was a big step. When she’d signed the papers for her condo, she’d found herself missing her father, wishing that he’d lived long enough to see her take this step into adulthood. If signing the papers with a Rhodes Dental Clinic pen that his father had designed would make Norman feel more comfortable, she’d spend the next hour looking for it.

And there it was! Hannah’s eyes locked on the pen the moment she stepped inside her bedroom. She grabbed it, stuffed it inside her purse, and was just preparing to step outside her condo door when the phone rang again. It was probably Norman, wondering if she’d found the pen. Hannah rushed back into the kitchen, almost tripping over Moishe in her haste, and snatched up the phone before it could ring a second time.

“Hi, Norman. Your pen was in my bedroom, right where you said it would be. I’ll bring it to work with me.”

Hannah heard a startled gasp, followed by a lengthy silence. The person on the other end of the line was so quiet, Hannah could hear a clock ticking in the background.

“Oh-oh,” Hannah breathed, recalling the exact words she’d spoken when she’d answered the phone. For someone who hadn’t been a party to her earlier conversations with Norman, the fact that his pen had been in her bedroom would be food for some juicy gossip. She was about to say hello again, hoping that the call had been a wrong number, when the ticking clock began to chime and she recognized the strains of “Edelweiss.”

Hannah groaned. She’d really stuck her foot in it now. The only person in Lake Eden who had a clock that chimed “Edelweiss” was her mother!

Chapter
Two

“T his is your mother, Hannah,” Delores Swensen said at last. “How did Norman’s pen get into your bedroom?”

Hannah started to laugh. She couldn’t help it. She’d never heard her mother sound so shocked before.

“Stop that laughing and tell me! I’m your mother. I have a right to know!”

Hannah wasn’t about to argue that point, not when her mother sounded capable of going into cardiac arrest any second. “Relax, Mother. Norman wanted me to find the Rhodes Dental Clinic pen he gave out at Christmas. I told him I always keep a pen on my bed table and he suggested that I look for it there.”

“Oh. That’s different. For a minute there, I thought…never mind. Why does Norman need that particular pen?”

“He’s signing some papers this morning and he wants to use it for sentimental reasons. He just bought a house.”

“Norman bought a house? Which house? Where?”

“It’s the Voelker place. He’s going to tear it down and build our dream house on the land.”

“What dream house?”

“The one we designed for that contest we won. You remember, don’t you?”

“Of course. You showed me the blueprints. But that house was huge, wasn’t it?”

“Four-bedroom, three-bath.”

“But a house like that is much too big for…” Delores stopped speaking and gasped. “Is there something you’re not telling me, Hannah?”

“Not a thing.”

“Then you’re not considering any life-altering changes?”

Hannah glanced at the clock and frowned. “The only life-altering change I’m considering is ripping the phone off the wall so I can make it to work on time.”

“Oh. All right then, dear. I’ll make it short. I called because I have some wonderful news. Michelle is coming home.”

“She is?” Hannah started to smile. Her youngest sister had just finished her freshman year at Macalester College and Hannah hadn’t seen her since Christmas. “When is she coming?”

“On Tuesday night. She doesn’t have to go back until Sunday. The Drama Department is moving to a new building and all the student workers have the week off. She’s coming in on the eleven o’clock bus and she wants to stay out at the lake cottage.”

“But I thought you had it rented out for the entire summer.”

“I did, but Andrea worked something out with the renters. I’m staying out there with Michelle, of course. A girl her age still needs supervision.”

Hannah grinned, imagining Michelle’s reaction to that bit of news. She wouldn’t be happy that her idyllic lake vacation would be graced by her mother’s presence.

“I was hoping you could pick her up at the Quick Stop and bring her out to the lake. I have an important decorator coming in that night and Carrie can’t handle her alone. And after that, I have to run straight out to the cottage to get things ready. I’ll barely have time to make up the beds and hang the towels before Michelle’s bus comes in.”

“No problem,” Hannah reassured her. “I’ll meet the bus.”

“Thank you, Hannah. I knew I could count on you. I’ve got to run. Carrie’s picking me up in five minutes and I still have to fix my hair. We’re doing the front window display this morning.”

Hannah was smiling as she hung up the phone, not her usual expression after a conversation with her mother. It would be good to have Michelle home again.

By seven-thirty, Hannah had accomplished a lot. There were a dozen Lemon Meringue Pies in the ovens and she’d baked all the Old-Fashioned Sugar Cookies for Pamela and Toby’s wedding reception. She poured the last cup of coffee from her travel carafe, sat down on a stool at the stainless-steel workstation, and reached out to grab one of the Old-Fashioned Sugar Cookies she’d designated as seconds. The cookie was slightly off round and she wanted the wedding cookies to be perfect. She was about to taste it when reality set in. She couldn’t have cookies. She was on a diet. In her heart of hearts, she knew she had at least twenty pounds to lose, maybe even more. And come to think of it, perhaps that was why Norman hadn’t asked her to marry him.

Sighing a bit, Hannah placed the cookie back on the plate. She had to exercise willpower. She had to be strong. She’d just convince herself that she loved low-fat cottage cheese and salads until she could get back into her summer slacks. Once she got down to the perfect weight, Norman would take one look at her new, svelte figure and pop the question. And she’d say…What would she say? Did she really want to marry a man who hadn’t proposed to her because she was twenty pounds overweight?

Hannah reached for the cookie again. She wanted a man who would accept her just the way she was. If twenty pounds or so stood between spinsterhood and wedded bliss, there was something wrong with the system. Besides, marrying Norman would mean that she’d have to give up Mike Kingston.

A sigh escaped Hannah’s lips as she thought about Mike. He was the handsome and sexy head detective with the Winnetka County Sheriff’s Department. He was also her brother-in-law’s partner and Bill hadn’t been shy about telling Hannah that he hoped she’d marry Mike. Andrea also liked Mike, but she’d adopted their mother’s view. As long as the candidate was male and single, any old groom would do in a pinch.

Thoughts of her mother caused Hannah to withdraw her hand without taking the cookie. If she got thinner and Norman proposed, Delores would have to stop playing matchmaker and fixing her up with every eligible man who stepped inside the Lake Eden city limits.

But did she really want to get married at this point in her life? Hannah reached for the cookie again. It might serve her better to stay a little heavy, delay any proposals of marriage, and date both Norman and Mike into perpetuity.

The back door opened and Hannah pulled her hand back from the cookie plate. It was a guilty reaction, pure and simple, and she gave her partner, Lisa Herman, an embarrassed smile. “Good morning, Lisa.”

“Hi, Hannah.” Lisa hung her purse on a hook, grabbed her apron, and walked over to stare at Hannah curiously as she put it on. Since she was petite, she had to roll it up around the middle and wind the strings around her waist twice. “I saw you put that cookie back. Is there something wrong with them?”

“No. I’m sure they’re delicious.”

“Then why didn’t you take one?”

“Because I’m on a diet. No desserts until I lose twenty pounds. If you see me reaching for another cookie, slap my hand.”

“Okay. But what brought this on?”

“My favorite pair of summer slacks. I bought them on a shopping trip with Andrea last summer and now I can’t even zip them up.”

“That’s strange. You don’t look like you’ve gained weight to me.”

“Not to you maybe, but…” Hannah stopped speaking and sighed. “Norman bought a house.”

“He did?” Lisa looked startled.

“It’s the house Rhonda Scharf inherited from her great-aunt. He’s coming here to sign the papers this morning.”

“Then Norman’s moving?”

“Not yet. He’s going to bulldoze the old house and start building the dream house we designed for the contest.”

“That’s wonderful,” Lisa said, walking over to the sink to wash her hands, “but what does it have to do with you losing weight?”

“He called to tell me about it this morning, but he didn’t ask me to marry him.”

Lisa turned to give Hannah a stern look. “And you really believe that the only reason Norman didn’t ask you to marry him is because you’re twenty pounds overweight?”

“Well…no. But…”

“Don’t get me wrong,” Lisa interrupted her. “Go on a diet if you want to, but don’t use Norman for an excuse. He’s crazy about you. Anybody can see that. I think he’ll ask you one of these days.”

Hannah felt her spirits rise. “Do you really think so?”

“Absolutely. It takes some men a while to work up the nerve. I’ve been dating Herb for as long as you’ve been dating Norman, and Herb hasn’t proposed yet.”

“Do you wish he would?” The moment the words were out of her mouth, Hannah regretted them. Lisa’s relationship with Herb was none of her business. But Lisa didn’t seem to mind the question and she smiled slightly as she dried her hands.

“Sometimes I wish he’d ask me. How about you? Do you want Norman to ask you?”

“I don’t know. But I do know I don’t want him to ask anyone else.”

Lisa laughed. “I don’t think there’s any danger of that. So how about the diet? Is it still on?”

Hannah thought about it for a moment. “It’s on. I can’t afford to buy a whole new wardrobe.”

“Now that’s a good reason for a diet,” Lisa said, heading for the door to the coffee shop. “I’ll go start the coffee so you can fill up on something that doesn’t have any calories.”

The stove timer sounded and Hannah rose to take her pies out of the ovens. By the time she’d set them all out on racks to cool, Lisa was back with a fresh hot cup of coffee.

“Here you go.” Lisa handed her a white mug with THE COOKIE JAR printed in red block letters on the side. “This’ll get you going. And once you increase your energy level, you’ll burn more calories. Gorgeous, as always.”

Hannah, who had been about to take her first sip of coffee, looked up at the apparent non sequitur and found Lisa eyeing the row of baked pies.

“I think lemon is your prettiest pie. Of course your cherry pies are nice, too. They look yummy with all that bright red juice bubbling up through the latticework crusts. And your apple pies are gorgeous, golden brown on top and they smell so good. And your blueberry pies are just…”

“Stop!” Hannah interrupted her, holding up her hands in surrender. “I’m on a diet, remember?”

Lisa looked embarrassed. “Sorry, Hannah. Forget what I said about your pies. Are the wedding cookies cool enough to decorate?”

“They should be.”

Lisa went to the counter and began to sift confectioner’s sugar into a bowl. “I’ll mix up the frosting and do the initials first.”

“Good planning. They should be dry before you draw the purple hearts around them.”

“Violet,” Lisa corrected her, measuring the sugar into another bowl. “The bride wants the initials to be the same light blue as a summer sky just after daybreak. And the hearts are supposed to match the color of the first wild violets of spring.”

Hannah’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s positively poetic, but it all boils down to light blue and light purple, doesn’t it?”

“You’re right,” Lisa said with a grin, stirring in the butter and then reaching for the heavy cream.

While Hannah mixed up another batch of cookies and began to bake them, Lisa finished the frosting and filled a pastry bag. Hannah glanced over at her several times as she piped the light blue initials on the face of the cookies. At first Lisa had been noticeably shaky in her attempt to decorate cookies, but she had practiced with a perseverance that Hannah envied. Lisa was now an expert and that meant The Cookie Jar could offer personalized cookies for any event they catered.

They completed their work at the same time and Hannah walked over to admire Lisa’s handiwork. “They’re perfect,” she said, smiling at her young partner. “Follow me. I think we deserve a coffee break.”

The first thing Hannah did when she stepped into the coffee shop was to turn on their new ceiling fans. They created a slight breeze as their blades revolved lazily, stirring the air and the red, white, and blue streamers that Lisa had hung from the ceiling in honor of the Fourth of July.

“Go sit down. I’ll get our coffee,” Lisa said, heading for the big urn behind the counter.

Hannah chose her favorite table. It was in the rear of the shop, but it still had a nice view of the street through the front plate-glass window. Sitting at a table in the rear had one big advantage. The shop looked empty unless someone approached and pressed a nose to the window. And if the customers couldn’t see them, they wouldn’t knock on the door and expect them to open early.

Lisa’s streamers looked nice and Hannah was glad she’d decorated. Lake Eden residents took their patriotism seriously and the Fourth of July was one of their small town’s biggest holidays. There would be a parade in the morning, political speeches and events throughout the day, a huge potluck picnic and barbecue on the shores of Eden Lake, and a fireworks display at night.

“What’s wrong with that fan?” Lisa asked, setting their mugs of coffee on the table.

“Which fan?”

“The one directly over your head.”

Hannah glanced up and saw that the blades weren’t turning on the fan in question. “I don’t know, but Freddy and Jed are coming in this morning to install the new shelves in the pantry. I’ll point it out to them.”

“Freddy looks good,” Lisa remarked, sitting down next to Hannah. “He told me that Jed makes him take a shower every morning and dress in clean clothes.”

“That’s a plus. I can remember a couple of times when I had to stand upwind.”

As they sipped their coffee, Hannah thought about Freddy Sawyer. He was mildly retarded and he did odd jobs around town, supplementing the income from the small trust fund his mother had set up for him before she died. Freddy had to be in his early thirties, but his naïve manner and boyish grin made him seem much younger than that. He lived just outside the Lake Eden town limits on Old Bailey Road in the house his mother had owned for years. His cousin, Jed, had moved in with him last month, and it seemed Jed had been a good influence on Freddy.

“People underestimate Freddy,” Lisa said, looking rather fierce. “They think he can’t learn new things, but they’re wrong. Janice Cox told me that she taught him to tell time.”

“That’s good,” Hannah said, turning to look as a car drove up and parked in front of the shop. “There’s Andrea and she’s early. She isn’t supposed to meet Norman here until nine-thirty.”

Lisa jumped up from her chair. “I’ll go let her in. Just sit there and relax. I know you were up late last night catering that bridal shower.”

Hannah sat. She was tired. The shower had been a big event, over forty guests. Andrea had been invited, but she’d stayed only long enough to deliver her gift, congratulate the bride-to-be, and give Hannah a message from Mike. Mike was out of town, attending a five-day conference in Des Moines on intervention techniques for youthful offenders. When he hadn’t been able to reach Hannah on the phone, he’d called Andrea to say he was staying over on Sunday night, but he’d be back in Lake Eden at noon on Monday and he’d drop by The Cookie Jar to see her.

The two sisters hadn’t had time to exchange more than a few words before Andrea had to leave. She’d told Hannah that Bill had turned into a regular mother hen now that she was pregnant. He urged her to rest when she wasn’t tired, he was forever bringing her afghans and pillows she didn’t need, and just recently he’d taken to making her high-energy snacks that played havoc with her prenatal diet.

“Hi, Hannah.” Andrea breezed in through the door, the picture of chic. She was wearing a light green skirt that swirled gracefully when she walked and a matching hip-length top. There was a turquoise scarf around her waist, a color combination Hannah would never have thought to attempt, and a silver and turquoise pendant around her neck. Andrea’s light blond hair was pulled up in a complicated twist. She could have stepped from the pages of a glossy magazine.

“You’re looking gorgeous this morning,” Hannah said with only a small stab of envy. Andrea always looked fashionable and Hannah often felt like a frump beside her.

“Mother called you about Michelle, didn’t she?”

“Yes, I’m meeting her bus. It’s going to be great having her home.”

“I know. We haven’t seen her in ages.” Andrea pulled out a chair and sat down. “Why didn’t you call me last night? I left a zillion messages on your answer machine.”

“I forgot to check it. I didn’t know about Norman’s new house until he called me this morning.”

Andrea looked disgruntled. “Well, don’t blame me for not telling you. You really need a cell phone, Hannah.”

“I don’t want a cell phone.”

“Everyone who’s anyone has one.”

“Then I guess I’m not anyone. I know it’s the age of technology, but I don’t like the idea of being on an electronic leash.”

“It’s not like a leash. Anytime you don’t want to answer it, you can just turn it off.”

“That would be all the time.” Hannah began to grin. The end of the argument was in sight. “And if I never answer my cell phone, why have one in the first place?”

“Coffee, Andrea?” Lisa called out, holding up an empty mug.

“No, thanks. Doc Knight limited me to one cup a day and I’ve already had it.”

“How about a glass of orange juice?”

“That sounds good.” Andrea smiled at Lisa, then turned back to Hannah. “I had to get up at the crack of dawn. The only time Doc Knight could see me was at seven-thirty.”

“Seven-thirty isn’t exactly the crack of dawn.”

“For me it is. I’m fine, by the way. I turned down the ultrasound. We don’t want to know the baby’s sex until he’s born.”

“Until he’s born?”

“I’m just saying he as a concession to Mother. She’s positive it’s a boy this time.”

Hannah was amused. “What makes her so sure?”

“She says if you carry the baby in front and your stomach sticks out, it’s a boy. If you’re big all over, it’s a girl.”

“That sounds like an old wives’ tale to me. Besides, your stomach is still as flat as a board.”

“No, it’s not. I’ve been dressing to hide it, but nothing fits me right anymore. I’m going to start wearing maternity clothes the minute Claire’s shipment comes in.”

“You asked Claire to order maternity clothes for you?” Hannah was surprised. Claire Rodgers owned Beau Monde, the dress shop next door to The Cookie Jar, and her clothes were expensive.

“I know it’ll probably cost an arm and a leg, but Bill wants me to have the best. He says it might even be tax deductible. After all, I’m a real estate agent and I have to be well dressed for my job.”

“You’d better check with Stan about that.” Hannah curbed her impulse to laugh. Stan Kramer was the best tax man in Lake Eden. He was pretty liberal about what was and what wasn’t a tax deduction, but Hannah didn’t think he’d go quite that far.

Andrea looked up as Lisa brought over a plate of cookies. “Thanks, Lisa. These look wonderful and I didn’t have time for breakfast. What are they?”

“We call them Apricot Drops and they’re Hannah’s invention. They’re Oatmeal Raisin Crisps made with chopped dried apricots instead of raisins.”

The phone rang and Lisa rushed off to answer it. Hannah watched as Andrea took a bite of her newest cookie and she relaxed as her sister started to smile. “You like them?”

“These cookies are winners, Hannah.” Andrea took one more bite, then leaned forward. “So? What do you think about Norman’s plans?”

“They’re great. I can hardly wait to see our dream house.”

“Then you said yes?”

Hannah bit back a grin, knowing full well what her sister was asking. “Yes to what?”

“To marrying Norman, of course!”

“No.”

“Then you said no?”

Hannah shook her head. “I didn’t say anything. Norman didn’t ask me.”

“He didn’t? I thought for sure he would.” Andrea began to look anxious. “He’s not dating anyone else, is he?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Well…that’s good. Maybe you should give him a little nudge in the right direction. You’re not getting any younger, and if you want to have kids…” Andrea stopped in mid-sentence and sighed. “Sorry, Hannah. I’m beginning to sound like Mother.”

“Yes, you are.”

“But at least I stopped before I got to your biological clock ticking down.”

“No, you didn’t. You just said it.”

Andrea looked nonplussed for a moment, but she recovered quickly. “I said I was sorry. Look, Hannah…I know it’s a touchy subject with you. I apologize for bringing it up.”

Hannah’s mouth dropped open. Andrea didn’t apologize often. She had to squelch the urge to rush down to Lake Eden Neighborhood Drugs to buy a box of gold stars like the ones Miss Gladke had used to mark special days on the classroom calendar. She was about to say she accepted Andrea’s apology when Lisa came back to the table.

“It’s good news and bad news,” Lisa informed them. “Which one do you want to hear first?”

Hannah made an instant decision. “The bad news. We’ll save the good for last.”

“That was the caterer. Pamela’s parents canceled the wedding. She had a big fight with Toby and she eloped with the boy she used to date in high school.”

Hannah groaned. “I think you’d better tell us the good news now.”

“I told the caterer we’d baked all the cookies and she promised to pay us for them. She said she’d send a check and we could keep them.”

“That’s nice. But what are we going to do with them? We can’t sell cookies with the bride and groom’s initials on them, unless…” Hannah reached out for a paper napkin and flipped it over so she had a perfectly blank square. “Do you have a pen?”

“I always have a pen.” Andrea reached in her briefcase and pulled out her gold Cross pen.

Hannah drew a large circle and wrote Pam’s and Toby’s initials inside. She stared at it for a moment and then she turned to Lisa. “Will you get one of the wedding cookies for me? I’ve got an idea.”

A moment later, a sample cookie was resting on a napkin in the center of the table. Hannah studied it for a moment, then looked up at Lisa with a grin. “Is there room to squeeze an ‘H’ and an ‘A’ in front of Pam’s initials?”

“There’s plenty of space. I had to leave room for the purple heart.”

Andrea looked surprised. “Was the groom a war hero?”

“No, but he deserves to be for putting up with Pamela.” Hannah turned to Lisa again. “How about a ‘Y’ at the end of Pam’s initials?”

“That’s easy. What are we doing to Toby’s initials?”

“Not much. All we have to do is put a big number four in front.”

“I get it!” Andrea said, sounding excited. “Then they’ll say, ‘HAPPY 4TH.’ The cookies are white. If you do all the letters in blue and the number in red, they’ll be Independence Day cookies.”

Lisa pushed back her chair. “It’s perfect, Hannah. I’ll get started on them right now. I need to match that blue frosting before it dries.”

“Won’t the cookies get old before the Fourth?” Andrea asked. “It’s five days away.”

“Not if we decorate them and pop them in the freezer. We’ll thaw them the night before and give them out at the parade.”

“Tracey can do that for you,” Andrea offered. “She’s almost five and that’s old enough to be in the parade. She could ride on The Cookie Jar float and pass out the cookies.”

Hannah shook her head. “That’s a nice idea, but we don’t have a float.”

“No float?” Andrea looked shocked.

“We wanted to build one, but we didn’t have time, not to mention the money it would have cost us.”

“But you’ve got to have a float! Everybody’s having a float. I’ll build it for you, Hannah. It’ll be a fun project for me.”

Hannah opened her mouth to say that “fun” was a noun, not an adjective, but she didn’t have the heart to correct Andrea. Her sister was obviously serious about wanting to build the float. With Tracey in preschool and Bill at work, she must be at loose ends. “Have you ever built a float before?”

“Not exactly, but how hard can it be? Please let me do it, Hannah. Think of it as a favor. You’ll be saving me from terminal boredom and it won’t cost you a dime. Bill’s dad has a hay wagon I can borrow and I’ve got tons of decorating supplies in the garage.”

Hannah found it hard to resist the pleading look on her sister’s face. Andrea hadn’t looked this excited since she’d planned her own wedding. “But are you sure you want to tackle a rush project like this?”

“Of course. I’ve got loads of time. Just say the word and I’ll get started right away.”

Hannah knew she might live to regret it, but she nodded. “Okay.”

“You’re the best sister in the whole world!” Andrea jumped up and rushed around the table to hug her. “I’m going to run down to Kiddie Korner and tell Tracey. She’ll be so excited.”

“Don’t forget about your meeting with Norman. You have to be back by nine-thirty with the house papers.”

“I’ll be here. Thanks again, Hannah. You’ve given me a whole new lease on life.”

Hannah sighed as Andrea raced out the door, climbed into her Volvo, and drove away. She was glad her sister was happy, but giving her permission to build the float might have been a strategic mistake, especially since Bill was being so overprotective. How would he feel toward Hannah when his pregnant wife announced that she’d be working long hours designing and decorating a float for The Cookie Jar?

Lemon Meringue Pie

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F.,
with rack in middle position.

1 nine-inch baked pie shell

FILLING:

3 whole eggs

4 egg yolks (save the whites in a mixing bowl and let them come up to room temperature—you’ll need them for the meringue)

1 cup white sugar (granulated)

½ cup water

¼ cup cornstarch

1⁄8 cup lime juice

1⁄3 cup lemon juice

1 to 2 teaspoons grated lemon zest

1 tablespoon butter

(Using a double boiler makes this recipe foolproof, but if you’re very careful and stir constantly so it doesn’t scorch, you can make the lemon filling in a heavy saucepan directly on the stove over medium heat.)

Put water in the bottom of a double boiler and heat it until it simmers. (Make sure you don’t use too much water—it shouldn’t touch the bottom of the double boiler top.) Off the heat, beat the egg yolks with the whole eggs in the top of the double boiler. Add the ½ cup water and the combined lemon and lime juice. Combine sugar and cornstarch in a small bowl and stir until completely blended. Add this to the egg mixture in the top of the double boiler and blend thoroughly.

Place the top of the double boiler over the simmering water and cook, stirring frequently until the lemon pie filling thickens (5 minutes or so). Lift the top of the double boiler and place it on a cold burner. Add the lemon zest and the butter, and stir thoroughly. Let the filling cool while you make the meringue.

MERINGUE: (This is a whole lot easier with an electric mixer!)

4 egg whites

½ teaspoon cream of tartar

1⁄8 teaspoon salt

¼ cup white sugar (granulated)

Add the cream of tartar and salt to the egg whites and mix them in. Beat the egg whites on high until they form soft peaks. Continue beating as you sprinkle in the sugar. When the egg whites form firm peaks, stop mixing and tip the bowl to test the meringue. If the egg whites don’t slide down the side, they’re ready.

Put the filling into the baked pie shell, smoothing it with a rubber spatula. Clean and dry your spatula. Spread the meringue over the filling with the clean spatula, sealing it to the edges of the crust. When the pie is completely covered with meringue, “dot” the pie with the flat side of the spatula to make points in the meringue. (The meringue will shrink back when it bakes if you don’t seal it to the edges of the crust.)

Bake the pie at 350 degrees F. for no more than 10 minutes.

Remove the pie from the oven, let it cool to room temperature on a wire rack, and then refrigerate it if you wish. This pie can be served at room temperature, or chilled.

(To keep your knife from sticking to the meringue when you cut the pie, dip it in cold water.)

(This is Lisa’s favorite pie—she loves the zing of the lime juice.)

Chapter
Three

A ndrea pointed to a line marked with a blue checkmark. “You’re next, Hannah. Sign here.”

Hannah signed her name where Andrea indicated, right under the lines with the green, red, and purple checkmarks. Andrea had explained the color-coded system when they had first taken their seats at the tables in the rear of the cookie shop. Norman was green, Rhonda Scharf was red, Andrea was purple, and Hannah was blue. It seemed that Norman’s first step into the world of home ownership began with a polychromatic autograph assembly line, but he didn’t seem to mind. Hannah watched him smile as he signed his name on the next paper and when he looked up at her, she smiled back.

Howie Levine held his hand out for the paper she’d just signed and Hannah handed it over. Howie notarized the signatures and placed the paper on the stack of completed pages by his left elbow. The pile was growing with each passing minute. Hannah wondered how long it would take to top the one-inch mark.

Hannah glanced over at Rhonda Scharf and caught her checking her watch. It was clear Rhonda was pleased at selling her great-aunt’s property, but they’d been signing papers for the past fifteen minutes and the novelty had worn off. Rhonda had dressed for the occasion in a pink knit pantsuit with a cloud of iridescent butterflies appliquéd on the front. The largest and most colorful butterfly was perched just below the vee of her low-cut neckline and called attention to her considerable cleavage. Rhonda, at fifty, still had a voluptuous figure and she liked to show it off. The only jarring note was her shoes, lime green tennis shoes that had been dyed to match the smock Rhonda wore behind the cosmetic counter at Lake Eden Neighborhood Drugs.

“Only ten left.” Andrea signed and passed another document to Rhonda. Rhonda signed and handed it to Norman. When Norman had signed with the Rhodes Dental Clinic pen that Hannah had located, he handed the paper to her. From Hannah it went to Howie, who notarized it and placed it on the top of the stack.

It seemed to take forever, but at last they were almost finished. The only thing left was for Rhonda to sign the deed.

“Excuse me…Howie?” Rhonda hesitated, her pen poised over the deed. “Before I agreed to the sale, I asked Norman if I could go out there over the weekend to pick up a few family mementos. Do we need a separate agreement for that?”

Howie turned to Norman. “Is that all right with you?”

“Sure. I already told Rhonda that she could.”

“Then it shouldn’t be a problem. A verbal agreement is fine for something like that.”

“Okay. I just wanted to make sure,” Rhonda said and signed the deed.

Once the deed had joined the stack of completed papers and Rhonda was in possession of Norman’s cashier’s check, Howie pushed back his chair and stood up to shake hands with Rhonda and then with Norman. “I’ll file these papers today, but since it’s a Friday, you’ll have to wait until Monday morning to take possession.”

When Howie had left, Hannah turned to her sister. “Is that all?”

“That’s it.” Andrea looked relieved. “Congratulations on the sale, Rhonda. And congratulations to you, Norman. You bought a great piece of property.”

Hannah started to get up from the table, but Norman beat her to her feet. “The cookies are on me,” he announced, grinning at all the patrons in the shop. “I just bought my first house.”

“And I just sold my first house.” Rhonda stood up next to Norman. “I’ll pay for the cookies. Thanks to Norman, I’m the one with all his money.”

There was a burst of laughter from her customers and Hannah headed off to the counter, leaving Norman and Rhonda to hammer out the details. The Cookie Jar was packed with dozens of people who’d already paid, but Hannah didn’t know of a single one who would turn down the chance to have a free cookie. She called that phenomenon “buffet mentality.” You could be full to bursting, but if the food was all-you-can-eat, you’d pig out way past the point of comfort. It was the same mind set that caused women to fill their purses with free perfume samples they’d never try, and that gave guests at fixed-price New Year’s Eve parties champagne hangovers for the bowl games the next day.

Lisa was carrying coffee refills from table to table when Rhonda came up to the counter. “I won,” she said, looking pleased. “I’m paying for the first free cookie and Norman’s going to pay for the second.”

Hannah added up Rhonda’s bill. Once it had been settled, she expected Rhonda to leave, but Rhonda slid onto a stool at the counter.

“The house isn’t much,” she confided. “I don’t blame Norman for wanting to tear it down. It’d cost more to remodel than it’d ever be worth. It’s a nice piece of property though, and you’ll love the view. I hope you and Norman will be very happy in your new home.”

Warning bells rang in Hannah’s head. She knew she had to tread carefully. Rhonda wasn’t the biggest gossip in town, but she was definitely a contender. “It won’t be my home, Rhonda. All I did was design it with Norman.”

“But I thought…” Rhonda stopped speaking and began to frown. “When Norman told me he was building the house you designed for the contest, I just naturally assumed that…You aren’t going to marry him?”

“No.”

“But you’ll never find anybody nicer!”

“That’s probably true.”

“Then why won’t you marry him?”

Hannah sighed. Rhonda had the persistence of a door-to-door salesman. “Norman hasn’t asked me.”

“He hasn’t?” Rhonda looked shocked, but she covered it quickly and reached out to pat Hannah’s hand. “Don’t lose heart, dear. I know you’re nearly thirty and all of your friends are married, but I’m sure Norman’s just waiting until the house is built. As a matter of fact, I’m sure that’s what he’s doing.”

Hannah decided that it was best to change the subject. She was tired of being on the defensive about Norman’s failure to pop the question. “Congratulations on the sale, Rhonda. Are you planning to do something special with the money?”

“Yes. I’m taking a real vacation for the first time in my life and it’s a dream come true. Thanks to Norman I can afford it now and I booked the ticket last night. I leave Monday morning for Rome!”

Rhonda’s eyes lit up and Hannah caught some of her excitement. “That sounds wonderful. How long are you staying?”

“Two glorious weeks! That should give me enough time to see everything I’ve always wanted to see.” Rhonda reached for her purse and slung it over her shoulder. “I’ve got to run or I’ll be late to work. If I don’t see you before I leave, bon voyage.”

Hannah bit back a grin as Rhonda slid off the stood and walked toward the door. Bon voyage meant “good voyage” and she should have said it to Rhonda, not the other way around.

Once Norman and Andrea had left, Hannah manned the counter in the cookie shop while Lisa went back to the kitchen to work on their Independence Day cookies. When the predictable lull came at eleven-thirty, Hannah stepped back to the kitchen to see the results.

“What do you think?” Lisa asked, putting the finishing touches on the last tray of cookies.

“They’re perfect. No one would ever know they’re recycled.”

“I gave a couple of my mistakes to Freddy and Jed.” Lisa motioned toward the pantry where Freddy and his cousin were hanging the new shelves that Hannah had bought. “I’ll deliver our cookie orders if you want to stay here.”

“That’s fine with me. Did you mention that ceiling fan?”

Lisa shook her head. “No, I forgot all about it.”

“I’ll tell them. This would be a good time to fix it.”

A few minutes later, the ladder had been set up in the cookie shop and Freddy steadied it while Jed climbed up to look at the defective fan. He yanked the pull cord, but the blades didn’t move. Then he loosened the screws on the hub and peered inside.

Freddy looked anxious as he watched Jed overhead and Hannah put her hand on his arm to reassure him. “Don’t worry, Freddy. I’m sure Jed can fix it.”

“But I’m the one that did that fan,” Freddy sounded every bit as upset as he looked. “I must have done it wrong.”

Jed looked down at his cousin. “No, you did it right. The wires came loose, that’s all. It could have happened to anyone. I’ll fix it and it’ll work just fine.”

“But I should fix it,” Freddy insisted. “It’s my fan and a man’s got to stand behind his work.”

Jed smiled and Hannah could tell that he approved of what Freddy had said. “You’re right, buddy. I’ll come down and you can fix it. Hold the ladder like I taught you, okay?”

“Okay. I’m holding it, Jed.”

As Freddy gripped the ladder tightly, Hannah realized that he looked different. His hair was shorter and his clothes were clean, but there was another change. Freddy was dressing better now that Jed had moved in with him. Instead of donning the baggy green trousers and old work shirts that had belonged to his father, Freddy now had jeans that fit him and cotton knit shirts with a pocket in the front. He even had new work boots that had replaced his battered old tennis shoes.

“Good job, Freddy.” Jed stepped off the ladder and patted Freddy on the back. “That ladder didn’t move an inch.”

“Nope. I held it real tight, just the way you taught me.”

Jed walked over to his toolbox and removed a rubber-handled screwdriver and a roll of black electrical tape. “Where’s your tool belt, Freddy?”

“Gotta think…” Freddy stared up at the ceiling for a moment. “It’s in the pantry, Jed. You told me to take it off when it bumped you.”

“Right. Go get it, then. You’re going to need it to carry tools up the ladder.”

Hannah waited until Freddy had gone back to the kitchen and then turned to Jed with concern. “Are you sure Freddy should be working with electricity? It’s pretty dangerous.”

“As long as I’m here, he’ll be fine. Freddy knows better than to try it alone.”

Hannah studied the young man standing in front of her. He was like a savvier, more animated version of Freddy and no one would doubt that they were cousins. They had the same athletic build, the same sandy hair, and the same blue-gray eyes. They were both just under six feet tall and they were dressed the same, whether it was planned or by accident. The only difference was that Freddy’s face was fuller, more childish, and Jed’s features were sharply defined.

“Look, Hannah…” Jed reached out to place his hand on her arm. “It’s good for Freddy to learn new things. Everyone in Lake Eden protects him just like his mother did and that holds him back. I know you do it out of kindness, but that’s not really helping Freddy in the long run.”

Hannah sighed. Jed had a point. “Maybe you’re right. We’re just concerned, that’s all.”

“Well, you can relax now. I’m here and I’m going to take care of Freddy. He’s my buddy. We played together when we were kids and I’ve always liked him. I want to see him lead a good life and do all that he can do.”

“I got it, Jed.” Freddy came through the door with a smile on his face. His tool belt was buckled around his waist and he looked determined to tackle the defective ceiling fan.

“Good.” Jed handed him the screwdriver and the tape. “Find a place for this on your belt. Do you remember what to do when you get to the top of the ladder?”

“I remember. First you turn off the power.”

“That’s right. Hold on a second and I’ll throw the circuit.”

Once Jed had turned off the power, Hannah stood to the side and watched as Freddy climbed the ladder. He was a bit more hesitant than Jed had been, watching every step to make sure his feet were in place, but he climbed up steadily.

“Do you see those two wires hanging down from the hub on the fan?”

“I see ’em, Jed.”

“Wind the black one around the base of the black screw and tighten it down. When you’re through with that, put a strip of tape over it so it doesn’t come loose. Do the same with the red wire and the red screw.”

“Okay. I can do that.”

Hannah watched as Freddy tackled the job. It took him a while, but he was wearing a big smile when he’d finished. “I did it, Jed.”

“Yes, you did. Come on down, Freddy.”

“Okay. I’ll take it real slow, Jed. Getting down is a lot harder than getting up. My head’s up so high I can’t see where my feet are going.”

“Can you get down on your own? Or should I help you with your feet?”

Freddy looked confused and Hannah could understand why. Jed had asked two conflicting questions and now Freddy had to decide which one to answer first.

“Yes, I can get down,” Freddy answered at last. “And no, I don’t need you to help. Here I come, Jed.”

Both Hannah and Jed watched as Freddy climbed down the ladder. There was a proud smile on his face, but he gave a big sigh of relief when his feet touched the ground. “Can I be the one to test it?”

“Sure,” Jed said. “Let me turn on the juice and then you can try the wall switch.”

Once Jed had given him the okay, Freddy flicked the switch and the blades started to revolve in perfect tandem with the other ceiling fans. “Look at that. I did it! Was that good, Jed?”

“That was real good.” Jed patted Freddy on the back and then he turned to Hannah. “If it’s okay, we’ll take our lunch now. We’ll be back here at one to work on those shelves.”

“Sure, go ahead.”

“What do you say, Freddy?” Jed clamped an arm around Freddy’s shoulders and walked him toward the door. “You want to have lunch at the café?”

“I like the café. Can I have chili?”

“Sure, if that’s what you want.”

“And a chocolate shake?”

“Sure, Freddy. Knock yourself out.”

“Why do I have to do that?”

“Do what?”

“Knock myself out.”

Jed laughed and glanced back at Hannah. “It’s just an expression, Freddy. I didn’t really mean that you should hit yourself.”

“What did you mean, then?”

“I meant that you should order whatever you want and I’ll pay for it.”

“Okay. I’ll have chili, and onion rings with ketchup, and a chocolate shake, and pickles. And maybe I’ll have coconut cake, too.”

Hannah was grinning as the door closed behind them. Freddy didn’t get the chance to eat at the café very often and it sounded like he was ready to take full advantage of the unexpected treat. If Jed didn’t keep an eye out, Freddy would eat up their whole day’s salary and then some.

Chapter
Four

H er weekend had been boring beyond belief and Hannah was not in the best of moods on Monday morning as she began to bake the cookies they’d need for the day. With Mike in Iowa and Norman busily calling contractors and getting estimates on the work to be done, Hannah had decided she’d finally do the spring housecleaning she’d put off for three months.

When The Cookie Jar had closed at five on Saturday, Hannah had driven straight home to feed Moishe and fix her evening meal. She’d done her utmost to pretend that her green dinner salad was a piece of buttery garlic bread, her boneless skinless chicken breast was a thick slab of country ham, and each floret of steamed broccoli was a crispy French fry, but her powers of self-deception had failed her before she’d even raised the fork to her mouth. She’d eaten most of it anyway and shared a few bites of her chicken with Moishe, who’d seemed delighted that she was dining on one of his favorite meats. Once her dishes were stashed in the dishwasher, she’d grabbed one of her ever-present steno pads to make a list of the tasks she needed to tackle and before she’d crawled under the covers at eleven, her kitchen floor had been spotless, all the burned-out lightbulbs in her condo had been replaced, every inch of her carpet had been sucked free of dirt and unidentified fibers, and all the clothes she’d sprinkled and stuck in the freezer to avoid mildew attacks before she got around to ironing them had been neatly pressed and were hanging in her closet.

Sunday had been more of the same. Hannah had risen early, eaten one piece of dry toast and a half grapefruit for breakfast, and salivated for a full two minutes when she’d smelled bacon frying in a neighbor’s apartment. She’d read the Sunday paper and then she’d tackled the rest of her to-do list. She’d carried the contents of Moishe’s litter box down to the Dumpster in the garage, scrubbed the fixtures in her bathroom until they were sparkling, and straightened the linen cabinet. After a big bowl of mixed vegetables for lunch, she’d rearranged her spice drawer, washed all the windows, dusted the bookshelves, and emptied the trash. She’d even cleaned out the kitchen cupboards, although it had taken every ounce of willpower she possessed to toss out the half-eaten canister of caramel corn that Bertie Straub had given her for Christmas.

Dinner had been a nice piece of fish with a small baked potato sans sour cream and butter, and another mixed salad with low-cal dressing. Since Hannah had never been fond of fish, Moishe had gotten the lion’s share of that. She’d alleviated her urge to snack by munching celery sticks as she’d watched several insipid movies, and she’d crawled under the covers at ten, hoping that sleep would silence the rumbling of her stomach.

“Hi, Hannah,” Lisa greeted her as she walked in at seven-thirty. “Something smells good.”

“That would be cookies. I’m just glad my nose is stuffed up!”

“The diet’s getting to you?” Lisa gave her a sympathetic look.

“Yes. ‘Diet’ has a lot in common with some other four-letter words.”

“I understand. Why don’t you go in the shop and put on the coffee? I’ll finish up in here.”

“Thanks, Lisa.” Hannah turned and walked toward the swinging door that led to the coffee shop. “I had the most awful urge to spoon down all that cookie dough. Raw.”

Once temptation was behind her, Hannah felt much better. As she measured out the coffee grounds, she reminded herself that the waistband on her jeans had been looser this morning and this was not the time to falter in her resolve. If she could keep it up, she’d be thin and beautiful. Well…maybe not beautiful, but certainly thinner. She’d feel better, she’d have more energy, and she might even have the nerve to buy a new bathing suit before the swimming season was over for the year.

Hannah had just plugged in the coffee when the phone rang. They weren’t open for business yet, but it could be someone calling with an advance order. She lifted the receiver and answered in her most professional voice. “This is The Cookie Jar. Hannah speaking.”

“I’m glad I caught you, dear.”

“Hello, Mother.” Hannah glanced up at the clock. It was ten to eight and that was much later than Delores usually called.

“I hate to disturb you at work, but I need to ask for your help.”

This was a new wrinkle! Delores never asked, she demanded. “What is it, Mother?”

“Norman told Carrie that we can take any furnishings we want from the Voelker place. The only catch is, he found someone to start demolishing it on Saturday and we have to get the things out before then.”

“And you want me to help you move them?” Hannah’s muscles began to cramp at the thought. The last time she’d helped her mother move antiques, she’d been stiff and sore for almost a week.

“No, Luanne’s taking care of all that. She’s rented a truck and hired a couple of high school boys to do the heavy lifting. She’s absolutely wonderful, Hannah. Her talents were simply wasted at the café.”

“I’m glad it’s working out so well,” Hannah said, smiling to herself. As far as she was concerned, Luanne Hanks was a story of success in the face of adversity. The Hanks family lived at the end of Old Bailey Road, right next to the town dump and a mile past Freddy Sawyer’s house. The youngest of six children, Luanne had dropped out of school in her senior year to have a baby, but she’d studied at home and passed her high school equivalency exam. Instead of taking the easier way out and giving her daughter up for adoption, Luanne had decided to raise Suzie as a single mom. For the first two years, she’d supported her widowed mother and her baby by working at Hal & Rose’s Café as a waitress and selling Pretty Girl Cosmetics door to door.

Delores had come into contact with Luanne when she’d done the makeup for the old-fashioned portraits Norman had taken at the Lake Eden Winter Carnival. Impressed with Luanne’s eagerness to learn about antiques, Delores and Carrie had hired her as their assistant when they’d opened Granny’s Attic in May.

“I’m going out to the Voelker place this afternoon to tag the things we want to take. I thought it would be fun if we went out there together.”

Hannah searched her mind for an ulterior motive. Her mother always had an ulterior motive. Hannah knew very little about antiques, and Delores was an expert. There was no way her mother needed her help with that. As far as she knew, her mother’s car was running just fine and she was perfectly capable of driving out there by herself. Perhaps Delores just wanted to spend a few hours with her eldest daughter? No, that couldn’t be it.

“Do you have time to go with me, Hannah? I’d really appreciate it.”

“I guess,” Hannah said, a bit reluctantly. There was something afoot, but she couldn’t think of what it could be. “I’m catering coffee and dessert at the St. Jude Society prayer meeting, but I should be back here by one.”

“That’s perfect, dear. Norman’s got an eleven-thirty appointment and he should be free by then.”

“Norman’s going?”

“Yes, dear. He wants to take another look at the place before they tear it down.”

“But if Norman’s driving out there anyway, why don’t you ride with him?”

“We’d rather ride with you, dear.” Delores sounded a bit uncomfortable and she cleared her throat. “You’ve got such a nice big truck and Norman says there’s quite a bit of artwork on the walls. I thought we could pack that up and bring it back with us.”

Hannah grinned in sudden understanding. Delores wanted her for the cargo space in her cookie truck. She thought about refusing. Her truck was not a moving van. But it was a small thing to ask and she did want to take a look at the property that Norman had bought.

“Okay. I’ll call you when I get back here and we’ll go pick up Norman. Tell him to expect us about one-fifteen.”

“I’ll do that, dear. I’m sure he’ll want to show you all around and discuss the new house while I’m tagging the antiques. Who knows? If the timing is right, something might just happen.”

Hannah was grinning as she hung up the phone. Not only had she identified her mother’s primary motive, she’d found a second. Delores hoped that if she threw Hannah together with Norman, he might propose. Hannah didn’t think that would happen, but it was a nice try on her mother’s part.

It was ten o’clock and Hannah was manning the cash register when she spotted Mike’s Jeep pulling up in front of her shop. Her heart began to hammer and her insides turned to mush as he got out and strode toward the front door. With a start, she realized that the mug of coffee she was holding was sloshing and she set it down quickly before any of her customers could notice. Mike always had this effect on her. It was as if she’d received a jolt of electricity that made her tingle all over.

The door to The Cookie Jar opened and Mike walked in. He looked determined, like a man on a mission, and Hannah watched his eyes rove over the customers that lined the tables in her small shop. When he spotted her behind the counter, he strode up to her quickly. “We need to talk.”

“Okay. What is it?”

Mike shook his head. “Not here. Let’s go in the back and send Lisa up here.”

The switch was accomplished with a minimum of fuss and Hannah motioned to a stool at the workstation. “Sit down, Mike. Do you want a cup of coffee?”

“No. Am I too late, Hannah?”

Hannah glanced at the clock. “Actually, you’re early. Andrea said you’d be in about noon.”

“Not that! Am I too late?”

“Too late for what?” Hannah asked, genuinely puzzled.

“Don’t play games with me, Hannah. Bill told me all about Norman’s new house.”

“Oh, that!” Hannah did her best not to smile as she met Mike’s eyes. He was jealous, pure and simple. The green-eyed monster had sunk its claws into the most handsome man in Lake Eden. Of course Mike didn’t have any reason to be jealous, but he didn’t know that, and Hannah was enjoying his discomfort too much to tell him quite yet. “Is there some reason why Norman can’t build on that property?”

“Not that I know of.”

“But you seem upset.”

“Of course I’m upset! I was only gone for three days and when I come back, I find out that Norman’s building your dream house!”

“It’s our dream house,” Hannah corrected him. “Norman and I designed it together.”

“Then you’re going to marry him?” Mike asked, clenching his fists.

“No,” Hannah said, knowing that she’d milked Mike’s jealousy for all it was worth and any more would be cruel. “Norman’s just building the house, that’s all. It doesn’t have anything to do with me.”

Mike exhaled with an audible whoosh and Hannah could see that he was relieved. “But that house is too big for Norman, isn’t it?”

“Four bedrooms, three baths.”

“That’s what I mean. What’s he going to do with all that room?” Mike began to frown. “Do you think he’s going to ask you to marry him when it’s finished?”

Hannah laughed. “If I knew that, I’d set up a hotline and rake in the cash as a telephone psychic.”

“What if he does? Will you say yes?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, you can’t!”

Hannah’s heart jumped up into her throat. Was Mike about to propose? And how would she feel about it if he did? “Why can’t I?”

“Because you’d never be happy with Norman. Promise me you’ll tell me right away if he asks you.”

“What good will that do?”

“I don’t want to get blindsided. Promise me, Hannah.”

“I promise,” Hannah said. What else could she say? She didn’t like to see Mike looking this miserable.

“Then everything’s still status quo with us?”

“Status quo,” Hannah repeated, beginning to smile as she wondered what that was, exactly.

Mike got up from his stool and pulled Hannah to her feet to give her a hug. “I don’t want to change anything. Everything’s great just the way it is.”

And then Mike kissed her. It was a long, sweet kiss that was just beginning to kindle into a blaze when Hannah heard someone open the back door.

“Hannah? I just wanted to ask you about…” It was Andrea and she stopped abruptly as she saw what she’d interrupted. “Sorry. I’ll come back later.”

Mike motioned Andrea in. “That’s okay. I was just leaving. If you see Bill before I do, tell him I’m going home to take a quick shower and put on a fresh uniform. I’ll catch up with him at the station after lunch.”

“What was all that about?” Andrea asked after Mike had left.

“Nothing much.” Hannah shrugged, leaving it at that. “What did you want to ask me?”

“It’s about Tracey’s costume.” Andrea eyed the cookies that were cooling on the baker’s rack. “Are those Almond Kisses?”

“They’re for my catering job, but I baked extras.”

“Then I can have a couple?”

“Of course.” Hannah watched as Andrea grabbed three cookies. “What were you saying about Tracey’s costume?”

“I need to know what kind of shoes the Statue of Liberty wears.”

“Really big ones,” Hannah quipped, but Andrea didn’t look amused. “I think it’s sandals, but I’m not positive.”

“How would I find out?”

“Run down to the library and look it up in the encyclopedia. There’s bound to be a picture.”

“Good idea. I asked Janice Cox, but she wasn’t sure either. I’m going to dress Tracey up as Lady Liberty. Won’t that be cute?”

“Tracey would be cute in any costume.”

“I know, but she really wants something with a crown. Is she right-handed?”

“Probably,” Hannah said, assuming that Andrea was asking about Lady Liberty and not her daughter. “The torch goes in the right hand, if that’s what you’re asking. You’re not going to put Tracey in green makeup, are you?”

“No. The green’s just tarnish anyway. I wonder why they don’t polish her up. She’d look a lot better.”

“That’s easier said than done. Remember when that citizens group got the idea to clean the dome on the county courthouse? They dropped it in a hurry when they found out it would take three years and cost a fortune.”

“Time and money. They’re always the deciding factors. I’d better run, Hannah. I’m short on time this morning, and I’ll be short on money if I don’t get out to CostMart in time for their white sale. I’m picking up new towels for the bathroom. Ours are practically in shreds. Is there anything you need while I’m there?”

“Thanks, but I can’t think of anything I…” Hannah stopped speaking as her neck gave a twinge. She reached up to rub it and sighed. “There is one thing. Remember when we went shopping last year and I bought that new pillow?”

“The goose-down?”

“That’s the one. I need a second pillow just like it.”

Andrea’s eyes narrowed. “But you already have one. Does that mean you’re contemplating…uh…sleepover company?”

“No, it just means that Moishe keeps stealing it. And every time he does, I wake up with a stiff neck. I’m going to give him mine and get a new one for myself.”

“You really ought to train him not to do that.”

“That’s impossible. Cats train their owners, not the other way around. It took Moishe a whole year, but he’s trained me to buy a new pillow.”

Andrea laughed. “Okay. I’ll pick one up for you, but it might be expensive. The last time I priced them, they were over fifty dollars.”

Hannah sighed. She’d forgotten that goose-down was that expensive. She didn’t really want to shell out an extra fifty dollars, but it would be worth it for a pain-free neck. “Just get it, whatever it costs. I can spend fifty dollars for a pillow, or I can spend fifty dollars for a chiropractor. At least with a pillow, I won’t have to go back for another adjustment.”

Almond Kisses

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F.,
with rack in middle position.

1 ½ cups melted butter (3 sticks)

2 cups white sugar (granulated)

1 teaspoon vanilla

1 teaspoon almond extract

1⁄8 cup molasses (2 tablespoons)

1 ½ teaspoons baking soda

1 teaspoon baking powder

1 teaspoon salt (if you use salted almonds, cut the salt to ½ teaspoon)

1 ½ cups finely ground almonds (grind them up in your food processor with the steel blade—they don’t have to be blanched)

2 beaten eggs (just whip them up with a fork)

4 cups flour (no need to sift)

13 oz. bag Hershey’s Kisses (or small squares of milk chocolate)

Microwave the butter in your mixing bowl to melt it. Add the sugar, the vanilla, the almond flavoring, and the molasses. Stir until it’s blended, then add the baking soda, baking powder and salt. Mix well.

Grind up the almonds in your food processor. Measure after grinding. Add them to the bowl and mix. Pour in the beaten eggs and stir. Then add the flour and mix until all the ingredients are thoroughly blended.

Let the dough firm up for a few minutes. Then form it into walnut-sized balls and arrange them on a greased cookie sheet, 12 to a standard sheet.

Cut the Hershey’s Kisses in half (from the top down, so that each half has a point and a base). Press the halves into the middle of your cookie balls, cut side down. They’ll look pretty on top as a yummy decoration. If you want to splurge a little, press a whole Hershey’s Kiss into the center of the dough ball, base down and point sticking up. (If you do splurge, you’ll need double the amount of Hershey’s Kisses. If your kids help you unwrap the Kisses, you should probably triple the amount!)

Bake at 350 degrees F. for 10 minutes, or until the edges are just beginning to turn golden. (Don’t worry—the Hershey’s Kisses won’t melt.) Cool on the cookie sheet for 2 minutes and then remove to a wire rack to finish cooling.

Yield: 10 to 12 dozen cookies, depending on cookie size. (If that’s too many, just cut the whole recipe in half. And if you have any Kisses left over, the baker deserves a treat!)

(Norman says these cookies taste the way he always wished marzipan would taste.)

Chapter
Five

“T his is a nice location,” Hannah commented, stopping her truck as close to the front door as she could get. “You can see the lake from here.”

“You’ll be able to see it even better when I prune the bottom branches on those pines.” Norman hopped out of Hannah’s truck and opened the door for Delores.

“It’s a nice little house,” Delores said, taking Norman’s arm and heading for the front door. “It’s almost a pity to tear it down, but I suppose it’s much too small for you with only two bedrooms. Once you make the smallest one into an office, there’s no room at all for…”

“Houseguests,” Hannah interjected quickly, shooting her mother a warning glance. Now was not the time to fish around for a proposal.

“Yes, guests.” Delores looked slightly embarrassed. “Well, I’ll go straight to work. I don’t want to keep you two out here all afternoon.”

Norman opened the front door. “I’d better turn on the lights so you can see better. The windows are small and it’s fairly dark inside.”

“The electricity’s still on?” Hannah was surprised. She’d assumed that Rhonda had turned it off to save the expense.

“I told Rhonda to switch it over to my name. I’ll have it turned off on Saturday morning before the demolition crew gets here.”

When Hannah stepped inside the house, she was pleasantly surprised. She’d expected to be assailed by the clouds of must and dust that inevitably gathered when a house was unoccupied, but the only odor she could detect was lemon-scented furniture polish. “It’s so clean in here!”

“I know. That’s why I didn’t bother to change clothes.” Delores glanced down at the pale yellow dress she was wearing. “Andrea told me that Rhonda had a cleaning woman.”

“What for? There hasn’t been anyone living here since Mrs. Voelker died.”

“I know, but the house wasn’t selling and Andrea thought it might show better if it was cleaned. You know how some people are. They can’t see past the dust and the cobwebs. Rhonda didn’t feel like doing it herself, so she hired a cleaning lady. Come on, Hannah. We’ll start in the living room and work our way through to the back.”

The living room was cluttered with furniture and artwork, but with all three of them working, it didn’t take long. Hannah put red tags on the furniture and artwork that Delores indicated, and Norman packed the smaller items in boxes.

The guest room didn’t yield much for Granny’s Attic, just a handmade patchwork quilt that Delores thought she could sell, but the master bedroom was a different story. Delores chose two Maxfield Parish prints and an old wooden rocking chair. Then she pointed to the quilt on the bed. “I’d like to take that.”

“Why?” Hannah asked. She was almost sure that the quilt was machine-made, the type that anyone could buy from a mail-order catalogue. “It’s not an antique, is it?”

“No, but Reverend Strandberg can use it for the homeless shelter.”

Hannah agreed and pulled the quilt from the bed. But instead of a bare mattress similar to the one they’d found in the guest room, this bed was complete with sheets, pillowcases, and a blanket. “I wonder why Rhonda kept this bed made up? Do you suppose she stayed out here sometimes?”

“I doubt it, dear. Why would she want to stay way out here when she has an apartment of her own? The cleaning woman probably made it up by mistake.”

“Do you want the rest of the bedding for Reverend Strandberg?” Norman asked, holding one end of the quilt while Hannah folded it.

“Yes. And if there’s a linen closet, I’ll take whatever’s there. I think I’m through in here. Let’s tackle the kitchen.”

“Why don’t you two go ahead,” Norman suggested. “I’ll load up the artwork and join you as soon as I’m through.”

Hannah was the first to enter the large farm-style kitchen and what she saw made her stop cold. “That’s one of my pie boxes on the table!”

“You’re right. I wonder how long it’s been here.” Delores marched past her, lifted the lid on the distinctive box Hannah used for pies, and stepped back with a startled exclamation. “Yuck!”

“My pies are yuck?”

“They are when they’re covered with ants.”

Hannah walked closer, peered inside, and made a face. It was one of the lemon pies she’d baked on Friday. Only one piece had been eaten and the rest was crawling with an endless line of small black ants that were industriously carting away the sweet pastry. “You’re right, Mother. This pie is ant fodder. I’ll dump it in the garbage.”

“Here, Hannah.” Delores walked over with a plastic garbage bag she’d found in a box under the sink. She held it open near the edge of the table and motioned to Hannah. “I’ll hold the bag. You slide the box off the table, dump it inside, and carry it out.”

“Yes, Mother,” Hannah said obediently, resisting the urge to giggle. Delores was treating her like a backwards child, but the plan was a good one and to object would be petty. Once the box was safely transferred to the garbage bag, Hannah carried it to the back door and took it outside.

Two garbage cans sat on a cement slab next to the old garage. Hannah peeked in the garage window, hoping to see an antique car up on blocks, but the interior was completely filled with fireplace wood. She’d have to remember to tell Norman about that. There was enough wood in Mrs. Voelker’s garage to carry him through several winters. All he had to do was move it to another location before they tore down the garage.

Hannah held her bag at the ready and lifted the lid on the garbage can. She expected it to be empty and she was surprised to see several items in the bottom of the plastic liner. There were two Styrofoam boxes with see-through plastic lids, the kind used for restaurant takeout dinners. One dinner was partially eaten and the other looked untouched. Both were osso buco, one of Hannah’s favorite entrées. She recognized it by its distinctive marrowbone. Rhonda must have ordered takeout on the night she packed up the last of her great-aunt’s effects and since there were two containers, it was obvious she’d expected someone to join her for dinner.

It was probably an invasion of privacy to go through someone else’s garbage, but Hannah was curious about that uneaten dinner. She lifted the liner partway out of the can, and peered down at the other items in its depths. There was an empty Chianti bottle, and two plastic wineglasses. Rhonda had poured wine for someone, but that someone had left before dinner.

Hannah shrugged and added her garbage bag to the mix. She didn’t understand why Rhonda hadn’t taken the untouched entrée home. Even if she hadn’t wanted it, she could have given it to one of her neighbors. For that matter, why had she left the pie? The same reasoning applied. One of Rhonda’s neighbors would have loved it.

Just as she was about to close the lid, Hannah heard the rumble of a trash truck approaching on the road that ran past the house. Monday must be garbage day. Hannah lifted out the liner, tied it off, and rushed to the front to hand it to the driver.

“What took you so long?” Delores asked when Hannah came back into the kitchen.

“The garbage truck came so I carried out the bag.” Hannah sniffed the air. “You must have found some ant spray.”

“It was under the sink. Look at these dishes, Hannah. They’re Carnival glass.”

Hannah surveyed the rainbow of colored dishes Delores had stacked on the counter. “I thought Carnival glass was orange.”

“That’s the most common, but they made it in other colors, too. See this purple bowl? It’s fairly rare and it’ll bring a good price. Could you climb up and look in the top cupboards, dear? There may be more.”

Hannah dragged a chair over to the counter and climbed up on the seat. She opened one of the cupboard doors and her eyes widened as she recognized a distinctive design. “Here’s a big Desert Rose platter. You want that, don’t you?”

“Yes. Hand it down to me.”

Hannah handed the platter to her mother and reached for a stack of plates. “This looks like Blue Willowware, but it’s green. I think there’s a whole set of it.”

“Let me see.” Delores sounded excited as she reached up for a plate. She flipped it over and she gasped. “What a find! It’s genuine Green Blue Willowware!”

Hannah coughed to cover a laugh. How could a plate be Green Blue Willowware? It sounded like a contradiction in terms. “Here’s some pink. Do you want that, too?”

“Yes! Pink Blue Willowware is a collector’s dream. Just hand me everything, Hannah. And be careful you don’t drop any pieces. I’m just glad Rhonda didn’t go through the cupboards. She missed some real treasures.”

By the time Norman joined them in the kitchen, Delores had every flat surface stacked with dishes and glassware. “It looks like you found some things you want.”

“Oh my, yes!” Delores turned to smile at him. “Are you sure you don’t want a percentage? Mrs. Voelker had some valuable dishes and glassware.”

Norman shook his head. “It’s all yours and Mother’s. I’ve been living with her rent-free and it’s the least I can do.”

“Well…that’s very generous. Just wait until I tell Carrie and Luanne. They’re going to be in alt over these fabulous dishes.”

Hannah chuckled as she climbed down from the chair. In alt? It was obvious that her mother had attended a meeting of her Regency Romance group recently. Delores had explained that alt referred to altitude, and the heroines in Regency novels often spoke of being in alt when something took them to the heights of pleasure.

When they’d packed up the glassware and dishes and Norman had carried the boxes out to the truck, Delores gave one last glance around. “I think that’s all. I’ve looked in every room.”

“How about the basement?” Norman asked. “I haven’t been down there, but Rhonda said her great-uncle used to do some woodworking.”

“Antique tools!” Delores’s eyes began to gleam. “They’re going for a premium right now. Do you have time for me to take a quick peek?”

“I’ve got time. How about you, Hannah?”

“It’s fine with me.” Hannah handed Delores the apron she’d discovered hanging over the back of a kitchen chair. “You’d better put this on, Mother. It might be dusty down there.”

Delores tied on the apron and headed for the basement stairs. “Aren’t you coming, dear?”

“I can if you need me,” Hannah said, giving her mother an exaggerated wink.

“Of course I…” Delores caught the wink and interpreted it correctly. “Actually, I don’t. I’m perfectly capable of exploring the basement by myself. Stay right here and keep Norman company. You’re both so busy, you don’t get much time to spend together and I know you’d like to discuss your plans for the house.”

“Right,” Hannah said, rolling her eyes at the ceiling. Her mother was about as subtle as a sledgehammer. “Holler if you need us and we’ll come right down.”

Norman waited until Delores had switched on the light and gone down the stairs, and then he turned to Hannah. “What do you think about a picture window in the kitchen? Since it faces the woods, it would be a nice view.”

“Yes, it would.” Hannah could picture herself sitting at the kitchen table in the morning, sipping a freshly brewed cup of coffee and watching the deer emerge from the trees. That thought was dangerous to her preferred single state, so she quickly asked another question. “How about the living room? That window will face the lake, won’t it?”

“That’s right, but the master bedroom will have the best view. That’s where I’m building the balcony.”

Hannah didn’t want to think about the master bedroom with its wood-burning fireplace and incredible view. It was just too appealing. She changed the subject again, asking Norman about how he planned to furnish the house. That was interesting and it was only when she glanced up at the old kitchen clock on the wall that she realized almost fifteen minutes had passed and they hadn’t heard a peep out of Delores.

“Maybe I’d better check on Mother. She’s been down there a long time.”

“I’ll go with you.” Norman led the way to the basement doorway. “Delores? Are you all right down there?”

Hannah stood behind Norman, waiting for her mother to respond. When there was no answer, she felt a jolt of fear. “Move over, Norman. I’m going down there.”

“Not without me, you’re not.” Norman had gone down three steps when he stopped abruptly. “Here she comes, now. Back up to give her room.”

Hannah backed up, but she gazed over Norman’s shoulder to watch her mother climb the stairs. Delores didn’t appear to be hurt, but her mouth was set in a tight line. Something had happened in the basement. And judging by the way her mother was gripping the handrail, that something wasn’t good.

“Water,” Delores croaked as she reached the top of the stairs, and Norman rushed to get her a glass. She took one sip, handed the glass back to him, and shivered visibly.

“You look like you just saw a ghost,” Hannah commented and immediately wished she hadn’t when her mother’s face turned even paler.

Delores gave a small smile, so small that it could only be classified as a grimace. “Not a ghost. I found…a body!”

Chapter
Six

D elores sighed and leaned back against the headrest in the passenger seat of Hannah’s truck. “You were right, Hannah. The chocolate helped.”

“Chocolate always helps.” Hannah held out the bag of leftover Chocolate-Covered Cherry Cookies. When she’d started her business, she’d vowed never to sell day-old cookies. She always had some in her truck and she gave them away as samples, telling everyone that if they thought her leftover cookies were good, they should come in and taste them fresh out of the oven. People did, and they were hooked. Business at The Cookie Jar was thriving. “Have another cookie, Mother. I guarantee you’ll feel even better.”

Norman peered closely at Delores. “Your color’s coming back and you’re beginning to look like yourself again. When you feel up to it, tell me exactly what you saw. I need to go down to the basement to check it out.”

“I’m not going with you!”

“Nobody expects you to,” Hannah assured her. “I’ll go with Norman if you’ll tell us exactly where to look.”

“In the furnace room, just like I said. It’s way in the back. I was standing by a shelf filled with jars when I saw the pile of dirt.”

“Okay,” Hannah said, reaching in through the open window to pat her mother’s arm. “Do you want to come inside with us and sit in the kitchen while we look?”

“No! I’m not setting foot inside that house again, not with that dead body in there. I’ll stay right here, thank you very much.”

“That’s fine, Mother. Just honk the horn if you need us. And if it makes you feel better, roll up the windows and lock all the doors.”

Norman led the way toward the house and Hannah followed. They went down the hallway to the kitchen and approached the basement door.

“You don’t have to go, Hannah.” Norman turned to look at her. “I can take care of it.”

“And let you have all the fun?” Hannah gave him a grin. “I want to be there when we discover it’s a pile of rags, or a bag of old clothes.”

“You don’t think your mother saw a body?”

“I doubt it. Andrea said looky-lous have been traipsing through this house for the past three months. If there was anything in the basement, one of them would have found it.”

“Maybe they didn’t go down there. Your mother was very descriptive, Hannah. She said the body was partially buried in a grave.”

“A grave is nothing but a hole and someone could have dug up the floor to fix the plumbing. Mother said the furnace room light was burned out and she admitted that she couldn’t see very well. I know her better than you do, Norman. I’m sure she saw something, but she’s a drama queen. I’ll never forget the time she swore she saw a black bear going through our trash can and it was only our neighbor’s French poodle.”

“That’s good to know,” Norman said, looking relieved. “But we still have to look. Did you bring those flashlights?”

“Of course I did.” Hannah handed him a flashlight and kept one for herself.

Norman started down the steps first and Hannah let him. It was clear he was exercising his manly prerogative, and that was fine with her. She really didn’t think her mother had found a body, but it would be negligent of them not to check.

As they reached the bottom of the stairs and started to walk across the basement floor, Hannah looked around her curiously. The basement ran the full length of the house. It looked cavernous in the light from the single string of bulbs that hung from the rafters and the shadows were deep and slightly menacing.

“It’s creepy down here,” Hannah said, her voice much louder than she’d intended.

“It’s also a mess,” Norman added, stepping over a pile of old newspapers and detouring around a stack of decaying boxes. “Rhonda’s cleaning woman didn’t clean down here.”

As they picked their way past piles of greasy rags, old paint cans, and stacks of old magazines tied up with twine, Hannah let her flashlight play over the walls. One wall was covered with floor-to-ceiling shelves that held an array of home-canned vegetables and fruit. The jars were laden with years of dust, but she could still see the brightly colored contents and she was impressed. “Look at all those preserves. Mrs. Voelker must have spent a lot of hours canning.”

“Rhonda said she used to win blue ribbons for her jams and jellies at the county fairs.”

“Really?” Hannah stepped closer and let the beam of her flashlight play over the jars. “I don’t see any. These are pickles, and canned corn, and things like that. Maybe Rhonda took all the jam.”

The door to the furnace room was open and hanging by one hinge. Hannah was surprised that her mother had ventured so far into the basement without a flashlight. The lure of antiques must have been stronger than her distaste of spiders and grime.

“Hold on, Hannah.” Norman held up his hand. “I want to make sure this door doesn’t fall. I’ll hold it to let you through and then I’ll find something to prop it up.”

Norman held the door and Hannah stepped into the furnace room. It was much larger than most, a rectangular, dirt-floored space with the furnace near the center. There was a coal chute set into the outside wall, and Hannah surmised that this room had once been the entire basement. A homemade set of shelves was sitting against one of the walls. Hannah saw that it contained jam. A few jars were broken and she stepped over the shards of glass as she made her way past the furnace.

“Something’s been digging back here,” she called out to Norman, as she spotted a mound of dirt. “It was probably a big badger or mole.”

“Do you think that’s what your mother saw?”

“Maybe. I don’t see anything resembling a body, though. Mother’s imagination must have been working overtime.”

“Where are you?” Norman asked, his voice floating eerily into the darkened silence.

“In back of the furnace. Go around it to the right. Be careful where you step. There’s some broken glass on the floor near the shelves.”

Hannah stepped closer, shining her light over the mound of dirt. Just beyond it, there was a large hole in the dirt floor and she could see why Delores had assumed it was a grave. She moved closer, letting the beam of her flashlight play over the partially filled-in hole, and she drew her breath in sharply as she saw something that couldn’t be explained by any animal, no matter how large. It was a tennis shoe and it was attached to a human foot.

“Oh!” Hannah gasped, turning and almost bumping into Norman.

“What is it?”

“I’ll tell you later,” Hannah said, grabbing his hand and pulling him toward the doorway. “Let’s go.”

“Was it a body?” Norman asked, puffing a little as he hurried to catch up with Hannah.

“Yes!”

“In the hole?”

“Yes!” Hannah took a deep breath. “Mother was right. We have to get out to the sheriff’s station and tell them about it.”

Hannah left Norman getting coffee for Delores at the bank of machines that lined the lobby. The coffee was awful; she’d had it before, but even bad coffee was good in a pinch. She’d driven out to the sheriff’s station on autopilot, trying not to think about the gruesome discovery they’d made. The tennis shoe she’d seen had been lime green and the only person in Lake Eden who wore shoes that color was Rhonda Scharf.

“Hannah,” Mike smiled as he saw her coming toward his desk. “How’s it going?”

“Not good. Is there somewhere private we can talk?”

Mike nodded, led her to one of the conference rooms, and closed the door. When he motioned her to a chair, Hannah noticed that he looked anxious. “Don’t tell me that…”

“Norman didn’t propose,” Hannah said, guessing what was foremost in his mind. “This is something entirely unrelated.”

“What?”

“There’s a body in the basement at the Voelker place. I don’t know for sure, but I think it’s Rhonda Scharf.”

Mike looked stunned for a moment and then he pulled out his notebook. “You found another body?”

“Not this time. Mother had that honor.”

“Delores?” Mike looked even more stunned. “Is she all right?”

“Yes, if she survives the coffee in your vending machine. Norman’s with her and I gave her a triple dose of chocolate.”

“What happened?”

“We were out there looking for antiques and Mother went down to the basement to search for old tools. When she came back up, she told us she’d found a body. Norman and I checked it out, and she was right.”

“Hold on a second,” Mike interrupted her. “Let me get Bill in on this, and we’ll take your statement right now. We’ll catch your mother later, after she calms down a little.”

“Good idea,” Hannah said, settling down for a lengthy session. These things always took time and there was no rushing it. She knew that from prior experience.

By the time Hannah got back to The Cookie Jar, it was almost four in the afternoon. Jed and Freddy had finished work for the day, the customers had thinned out, and almost all of their cookies had been sold. Hannah joined Lisa behind the counter to tell her what had happened, but she didn’t say anything about the identity of the body. That could wait for official confirmation.

“Well, at least your mother was first on the scene,” Lisa said, speaking in an undertone so their customers couldn’t hear her. “This time she can’t accuse you of trying to embarrass her by finding dead bodies.”

“Oh yes she can. I’m not sure how, but I know this’ll wind up being all my fault.”

“You could be right,” Lisa conceded, grabbing a towel and wiping an already spotless counter. “You’re going to look into it, aren’t you?”

“No way. We’ve got a lot to do to get ready for the Fourth of July party, and Mike and Bill were pretty bent out of shape the last time I interfered in one of their cases. I am curious about one thing, though. When we got out to the Voelker place, there was one of our Lemon Meringue pies on the kitchen table. I was wondering how it got there.”

Lisa looked thoroughly stumped. “I know Norman didn’t buy a pie, and Rhonda didn’t, either. Do you want me to check my customer list?”

“What list?”

“I keep a record of everyone who buys our pies. I call them up if you’re going to bake their favorite.”

Hannah was impressed. “That’s smart marketing.”

“It works,” Lisa said, smiling broadly. “Most of them want me to save one for them and a couple have standing orders. Mrs. Jessup told me to put her down for two pies every time you bake apple.”

“And you have a record from last Friday?”

“It’s at home, but I’ll call you tonight and read off the names. It’ll probably be after ten. I’m going out to dinner with Herb.”

“That’s fine. I really want to know who bought a whole pie and only ate one piece. It’s practically an insult.”

“I know, especially when it’s your Lemon Meringue.” Lisa looked up to see a customer holding his coffee mug aloft. “Mayor Bascomb wants a refill. Do you want to get it while I mix up a batch of Walnuttoes for tomorrow? Donna Lempke called and ordered six dozen for her cousin’s birthday party.”

“I’ll do the Walnuttoes. You do the coffee.”

“But are you sure? They’re chocolate and you’re on a diet.”

Hannah gave an ironic grin. “That’s okay. Seeing that body took my appetite away.”

“The Dead Body Diet?” Lisa started to grin as she picked up the carafe. “I’m surprised someone hasn’t thought of it before. What do you want me to say if anyone asks me about what you saw in the basement?”

“Nobody will. Bill and Mike won’t release any information until they confirm the identity, and Norman won’t say anything because they asked him not to.”

“But how about your mother?”

“Oh-oh,” Hannah groaned. It was a sure bet that Delores had told someone by now. Actually, the odds were good that she’d told hundreds of someones. “Just say that Mike and Bill are handling it and I’m not involved.”

Lisa snorted. “They’ll never swallow that.”

“Maybe not, but it’s true. Wild horses couldn’t drag me into this one. As of right now, I’m officially retired from the murder business.”

“Then you think it was murder?” Lisa’s eyes grew round.

“All I know is someone’s dead. It’s up to Doc Knight to determine who, when, and how.”

Hannah turned and headed back to the kitchen before Lisa could ask more questions. She was convinced that the body they’d found was Rhonda Scharf, and as she got out her recipe book, Hannah swallowed past the lump in her throat. Rhonda had never been one of her close friends, but she hadn’t disliked her. And no one should have to die in a gloomy, moldy basement only hours before leaving on the best vacation of her life. Of course Rhonda had been murdered. The fact that someone had tried to bury her confirmed that. If Rhonda had died accidentally, the person who’d found her would have called the sheriff’s department to report it.

It didn’t take long to mix up the dough for the Walnuttoes. Hannah had baked them twice a week for the past two years, but she still took the precaution of checking off the ingredients on the laminated surface of her recipe. She was preoccupied with Rhonda’s death and preoccupation led to mistakes.

Once she’d finished, Hannah covered the bowl with plastic wrap and carried it to a shelf in her walk-in cooler. She was just emerging from the chilly interior when the back door opened and Mike stepped in.

“Hi, Hannah. We took your mother’s statement and I need to check a few facts with you.”

“Sure.” Hannah motioned to a stool at the stainless-steel workstation. “Coffee?”

“That’d be great.” Mike waited until Hannah had brought him a mug of coffee before he opened his notebook. “Did your mother go down to the basement alone?”

“Yes. Norman and I didn’t know anything was wrong until she told us what she’d seen.”

“Where were you while she was in the basement?”

“We were sitting at the kitchen table. We told her to call out if she needed us and the basement door was wide open.”

Mike began to frown as he referred to his notes. “You didn’t run down there when you heard her screams?”

“Mother didn’t scream. There wasn’t a peep out of her. That’s why we got worried and went to the stairwell to check on her. We called out to her and when she didn’t answer, we started to go down the stairs. But then we saw Mother coming up.”

Mike made a note in his book. “Was the house still creaking when you went down there?”

“Creaking? No.”

“Then the wind had stopped?”

“There wasn’t any wind.”

“Interesting,” Mike said, referring to his notes again. “How about the rats? Were they as large as your mother said?”

“What rats? We didn’t see any rats.”

Mike began to grin. “I think your mother must have embellished her story just a bit. How about the gruesome trail of glistening blood?”

“No blood,” Hannah said, shaking her head.

“Okay. We’ll just file your mother’s statement under ‘f’ for ‘fiction’ and go with the ones that you and Norman gave us. At least they match what we found at the crime scene.” Mike took another sip of his coffee and stood up. “Thanks, Hannah. I’ve got to run. The fingerprint team should be finished by now.”

Hannah reached out to grab his arm. “Not so fast. Was I right?”

“About what?”

“About the shoe. Was it Rhonda’s?”

Mike looked as if he didn’t want to say, but then he nodded. “Yes. Doc Knight made a positive identification.”

“Poor Rhonda.” Hannah sighed deeply. “How did she die?”

“It’s too early to tell.”

“But was she murdered?”

“The autopsy report isn’t in yet.”

“I’m asking for your personal opinion.” Hannah gave an exasperated sigh. “Do you think that Rhonda was murdered? Or did it look like an accident?”

Mike thought it over for a moment and then he relented. “This is unofficial. If you quote me I’ll deny it, but it didn’t look like an accident to me. Now don’t ask me any more questions, Hannah. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Just one more thing. Why didn’t Rhonda’s killer finish burying her? She told everyone that she was going on vacation and no one would have missed her for two weeks. Her killer could have bought himself a lot more time if he’d finished burying her.”

“I know that.”

“Then you think he was scared off before he could finish filling in her grave?”

“That’s possible.”

“What I can’t figure out is why anyone wanted to kill Rhonda. She could be exasperating at times, but everyone I know seemed to like her well enough. How about the crime scene? Did you find any clues?”

Mike’s eyes narrowed. “You’re not going to interfere with our investigation, are you? You don’t have any reason to get involved this time around.”

“You’re right,” Hannah said, meeting his eyes squarely. “I’ve got enough to do without solving murder cases. Of course I’ll tell you if I hear anything important, but that’s as far as it’ll go.”

“Good.” Mike gave her one of his melt-your-heart smiles and pulled her into his arms for a hug. “Bill and I are perfectly capable of running a murder investigation without you.”

“Of course you are,” Hannah said, hiding her grin against the maroon lapel of his sheriff’s uniform. She’d already helped them solve several murder cases, but Mike was clearly asserting his professional independence.

“I won’t deny that you helped us a lot in the past, but I don’t want people to think we can’t do our job without you.”

“I understand,” Hannah breathed, snuggling a little closer. Mike’s hugs were wonderful. He was tall and rugged, and being in his arms made her feel fragile and feminine.

Mike’s cell phone rang, disrupting the moment, and he answered it. He listened for a moment. “Okay. I’ll be out there in ten minutes.”

“You have to go?” Hannah asked, already knowing the answer.

“Yes, but I’ll call you later. The forensic guys are finished and Bill’s waiting for me out at the crime scene.”

“Take some cookies with you,” Hannah said, heading for the counter to put some in a bag.

“Thanks. We probably won’t get a break until late and they’ll tide us over.” Mike took the cookies and gave her a lopsided grin. “Remember what I said, Hannah. Bill and I can handle it.”

Walnuttoes

Do not preheat oven—
dough must chill before baking.

2 cups chocolate chips (a 12-ounce bag)

1½ cups brown sugar

¾ cup butter (1½ sticks)

4 eggs

2 teaspoons vanilla

2 teaspoons baking powder

1 teaspoon salt

2 cups flour (not sifted)

2 cups finely chopped walnuts approx. ½ cup additional white sugar in a small bowl

Melt chocolate chips with butter. (Microwave on high for 2 minutes, then stir until smooth.) Mix in sugar and let cool. Add eggs, one at a time, mixing well after each addition. Mix in vanilla, baking powder and salt. Add flour and mix well, then add nuts and mix in.

Chill dough for at least 4 hours, overnight is even better.

When you’re ready to bake, preheat oven to 350 degrees F., rack in the middle position.

Roll walnut-sized dough balls with your hands. (This is messy—wear thin plastic gloves if you wish. If dough becomes too warm between rollings, return it to the refrigerator.)

Drop dough balls into a small bowl with white sugar and roll around to coat. Then place them on a greased cookie sheet, 12 to a standard sheet. Smush them down with a greased spatula.

Bake at 350 degrees F. for 12 to 14 minutes. Let cool on cookie sheet for 1 minute, then remove to wire rack. (If you leave them on the cookie sheet too long, they’ll stick.)

Yield: 8 to 10 dozen, depending on cookie size.

(Delores says these cookies taste like the Walnetto caramels she loved as a child. She also told me that she likes the cookies better, because they don’t pull out her fillings.)

Chapter
Seven

H annah was ready to return to the coffee shop when the back door opened and Delores poked her head in. “Are you busy, dear?”

“I’ve got a minute,” Hannah greeted her. “Come in and have a cookie. I’ve got Peanut Butter Melts, Apricot Drops, or Chocolate Chip Crunches.”

Delores sat down on the stool Mike had vacated at the stainless-steel workstation. “I’ll take a Chocolate Chip Crunch. You’re going to investigate, aren’t you?”

“No,” Hannah answered, pouring a mug of coffee and setting it down in front of her mother.

“But you’ve got to investigate!”

“Why?”

“Because Rhonda’s dead and we need to find out who killed her.”

Hannah gulped. She’d told no one except Mike about the lime green tennis shoe. “How do you know it was Rhonda?”

“Bill told Andrea, and Andrea told me. I just got off the phone with her.”

“What else did you learn?” Despite her resolve, Hannah’s curiosity was aroused.

“Rhonda was stabbed with a knife.”

“Bill told Andrea that?”

“No, Bill and Mike don’t know it yet. Minnie Holtzmeier told me.”

“How does Minnie know?”

“Her son was driving the ambulance that took Rhonda to the morgue and he heard the two paramedics talking in the back. One of them said that it was a single stab wound and the blade of the knife went in between two ribs to puncture Rhonda’s heart. The other one said Rhonda must have died instantly and that was a blessing.”

“That’s interesting, but I promised Mike I wouldn’t interfere.” Hannah placed two cookies on a napkin and carried them over to Delores. Her mother had only asked for one, but she always ate two and it would save her a return trip. “Don’t pass that information around, Mother. It might hamper the investigation and it’s really none of your business.”

“Of course it’s my business. I have a vested interest.”

Hannah was puzzled. “What vested interest?”

“I’m the one who found Rhonda! I owe it to her to do everything in my power to see that her killer is caught. Haven’t you heard that when you save someone’s life, you bear a responsibility to them?”

Hannah had heard that line in a score of bad movies. “But you didn’t save Rhonda’s life. Rhonda was already dead when you found her.”

“I know, but it still amounts to the same thing.”

Hannah shook her head to clear it. Her mother’s logic left a lot to be desired. She thought about pointing out the dissimilarities, but she wisely kept her silence. Arguing with Delores was an exercise in futility.

“You have a vested interest, too.”

“What’s my vested interest?” Hannah asked, regretting the question the moment it had left her lips.

“Rhonda’s last meal was a piece of your Lemon Meringue Pie. If that’s not a vested interest, I don’t know what is! You have to help me investigate. It’s your duty.”

“But you told me you didn’t want me to investigate any more murders.”

“That’s perfectly true. It’s not the sort of thing I want my daughter involved in, but these are extenuating circumstances. I’ll run the investigation and you can just help me.” Delores took a bite of her cookie and chewed thoughtfully. “What do you think we should do first?”

Hide under the bed until this blows over? Lock ourselves in a cell to save Mike and Bill the trouble of doing it later? Hannah bit her tongue hard to keep from voicing any of her thoughts.

“I think we should make a list of the people who wanted Rhonda dead. That’s the logical place to start. Get out your notebook, dear.”

Hannah reached for one of the blank steno pads she kept handy. There was no way she was getting involved in Rhonda’s murder investigation, but Delores didn’t seem capable of taking no for an answer and it couldn’t hurt to write down what her mother dictated. “Okay. I’m ready.”

“Write down Norman.”

“Norman?!” Hannah was so startled her pen dug a little hole in the page. “Why would Norman want Rhonda dead?”

“Because he bought her house. If he thought he paid too much for it, he would have been mad enough to kill her.”

“That doesn’t fly, Mother. Norman told me he made Rhonda a lowball offer and he got the house at a steal.”

Delores frowned slightly and it was clear she wasn’t happy about Hannah’s revelation. “If you say so, dear. The house wasn’t the motive then, but it doesn’t mean that Norman didn’t kill her. It’s motive, means, and opportunity…isn’t that right?”

“It’s right enough for the cop shows.”

“That’s good enough for me. Norman had the opportunity. He knew that Rhonda was going out there over the weekend to pick up some mementos.”

“That’s true,” Hannah said, but she set down her pen. “I agree that Norman had the opportunity, but how about the means? I’m not even sure Norman owns a knife.”

“He could have bought one. They’ve got all sorts of knives at Lake Eden Hardware. And since Norman has medical training, he would have known exactly how to stab Rhonda.”

Hannah laughed. She couldn’t help it. The thought of Norman as a mad killer wielding a knife he’d just purchased was ridiculous. “Norman’s a dentist. If he’d used his medical knowledge to kill Rhonda, he would have shot her full of Xylocaine or something like that.”

“You’ve got a point.” Delores sighed deeply. “That’s all right. I didn’t really think Norman did it anyway. We’d better move on to someone else.”

“Who?”

“Rhonda’s boyfriend. Couples always have a reason to kill each other, especially if it’s a passionate relationship.”

Hannah picked up her pen. She was still determined not to get involved, but the idea of a boyfriend had definite possibilities. “Okay, who is he?”

“I don’t know.”

That stopped Hannah cold for a moment. “But you think Rhonda had one?”

“All that flirting must have amounted to something. Rhonda tried to entice every man that walked into the drugstore.”

Hannah nodded, glad that her mother hadn’t gotten wind of Rhonda’s flirtation with Bill. It had happened less than a year ago when Hannah and Bill had gone to Rhonda’s cosmetic counter to ask her about a lipstick mark that had been part of the evidence in Bill’s first murder case. All the while they’d asked questions, Rhonda had flirted with Bill outrageously. When Hannah had mentioned it later, Bill had brushed it off. He’d said that Rhonda always flirted with the guys and it didn’t really mean anything.

“A flirt isn’t necessarily any more than that,” Hannah reminded her mother. “Rhonda might have run for the hills if a man had tried anything.”

“Don’t be silly, dear. I’m positive that Rhonda had a boyfriend.”

“How do you know?”

“It’s deductive reasoning. Bertie told me that Rhonda had a standing appointment to have her roots touched up. And a woman doesn’t have her hair colored unless she’s trying to look younger for a man.”

“Really?” Hannah’s eyes narrowed and she eyed her mother closely. At the time of her father’s funeral, her mother’s dark hair had been sprinkled with gray.

Delores noticed Hannah’s expression and she colored slightly. “Of course there could be other reasons. Rhonda might have wanted to look good for her job. As a matter of fact, I have Bertie touch up my hair every month or so. It makes me look more professional.”

“Right,” Hannah said, accepting her mother’s excuse at face value. There was no way she wanted to consider the possibility that her mother had a love life.

“I’m almost positive that Rhonda was involved with someone. There was just too much gossip and where there’s smoke, there’s fire. Everyone was talking about Rhonda and the UPS man a while back. Of course I didn’t pay much attention to it. I don’t approve of gossip.”

Hannah did her best to keep a straight face. Delores had called her with the story about Rhonda and the UPS man the moment it had hit the telephone wires. “Do you want me to write down the UPS man?”

“Just put down a question mark. I’ll know what it means.”

Hannah made a big question mark and underlined it. “We only have one suspect and that’s a question mark. Who else do you want to add?”

“I’m not sure. I’ll call you later when I’ve had a chance to think about it.” Delores slid off the stool and headed for the door. “You don’t have to be anything except my sounding board, dear. Since you told Mike you wouldn’t get involved, I’ll solve Rhonda’s murder all by myself.”

“Do you really think you can do it?” Hannah couldn’t resist asking.

“Of course. I’m an intelligent woman and I love solving puzzles. I’ll find out who killed Rhonda. Trust me.”

Hannah stared at the door as it closed behind Delores. In her experience, only people who didn’t know what they were doing said “trust me.” Perhaps she was grossly underestimating her mother’s crime-solving abilities, but Hannah had doubts about trusting the woman whose VCR had been flashing twelve A.M. for the past four years.

“I still can’t believe she’s dead,” Lisa said, reaching into her purse and pulling out her car keys. It was already five-thirty and she’d stayed an extra half hour to help Hannah finish mixing up dough for the next morning. “Did you know it was Rhonda when you told me about it?”

“I suspected it was, but I didn’t want to say until they made a positive identification.”

“And you’re still not going to investigate?”

Hannah shook her head. “Mike and Bill don’t need me and I have things of my own to do.”

“Well…if you change your mind, I’ll take over the workload.”

“Thanks, Lisa.” Hannah flashed her a smile. “Now get out of here so you have time to change clothes before your date.”

Once Lisa had left, Hannah rinsed off the things they’d used and stacked them in the industrial dishwasher. The brochure that had come with the dishwasher claimed that there was no need for pre-rinsing, but old habits died hard. She was about to pour in the detergent when there was a knock at the back door.

“Hannah?” Norman’s voice carried through the door. “I need to talk to you for a minute.”

Hannah set the detergent on the counter and hurried to the door to let him in. “Hi, Norman. I just ditched the last of the coffee, but I can offer you a cookie.”

“No, thanks. I gained some weight and I’m trying to take it off. No more snacking between meals.”

Hannah eyed Norman closely. He didn’t look like he’d gained an ounce. “How many pounds are we talking about here?”

“Three.”

Hannah came very close to losing it. Three pounds were hardly worth going on a diet. She had almost seven times more to lose.

“What?” Norman asked. “You look angry about something.”

“That’s because I have more weight to lose than you do. And I’m not really angry. This is my regular I’m-on-a-diet expression.”

“Why are you dieting? You look great to me.”

“You’re not just saying that?”

“I never just say anything. And I think people should look real, not like fashion models.”

“But you think the models are attractive, don’t you?”

Norman shrugged. “Sure. But I wouldn’t want to date one, if that’s what you mean.”

“Why? They’re really glamorous.”

“I know, but that’s not a big selling point for me. I think women should look like…well…women. They shouldn’t look like starving teenagers.”

Hannah found herself feeling better by the minute. Perhaps she wasn’t that overweight after all. Both Lisa and Norman had said that they didn’t think she had to lose weight.

“I came to ask a favor, Hannah.” Norman abruptly switched gears. “Mother called earlier and I know the body in the basement was Rhonda. I want you to investigate her murder.”

Hannah blinked. Norman really ought to beep when he reversed directions like that. “Why do you want me to investigate?”

“Because you’re good at it. And because I have a vested interest.”

Hannah sighed. Not the vested interest thing again! Norman was echoing her mother’s reasoning. “Is it because you saw Rhonda’s body and you feel a certain obligation?”

“Not really. It’s just that the sheriff’s department roped off the whole house as a crime scene and they won’t let me tear it down until the case is solved. I’ve got the demolition crew coming on Saturday and I really hate to cancel. Maybe it’s selfish of me, but I’m on a tight time schedule. If I don’t start building before winter comes, I’ll have to wait until the spring.”

Hannah felt her stress level rise and she squelched the urge to grab a cookie. Her mother wanted her to investigate and now Norman was climbing on that bandwagon. What was a girl to do?

“Mike and Bill don’t want me involved,” Hannah said, not meeting Norman’s eyes. Her excuse sounded weak, even to her.

“That’s never stopped you before. Come on, Hannah. I’m asking you as a friend. After all, it’s our dream house.”

“I know,” Hannah said. It was their dream house and a little digging around could do nothing but help Mike and Bill. She loved the blueprints they’d made together and she wanted to see their house built almost as much as Norman did.

“Then you’ll do it?”

Hannah considered her options and discarded them one by one. She could bow out and risk alienating her mother and Norman, two of the most important people in her life. Lisa would be disappointed in her, too. She’d offered to take over the workload and that meant she wanted Hannah to investigate. Mike and Bill wouldn’t be happy if she got involved, but they were the only ones. And wasn’t there something about the greater good? Pleasing three people was more important than pleasing only two.

“At least think about it,” Norman urged, reaching out to take her hand. “This is very important to me, Hannah.”

“It’s important to me, too. Give me some time, Norman. I’ll think about it tonight and let you know what I decide in the morning.”

“That’s good enough for me.” Norman stood up and smiled at her. “I know you’ll do the right thing. You always do.”

It was a good exit line and Norman took it, going out the door without another word. Hannah was left in a thoughtful mood as she started the dishwater, did her nightly check of the exits, and made sure everything was securely locked. Once that was done, she loaded up the leftover cookies and placed them in a box. She was just carrying it to the back door when the telephone rang.

Hannah groaned. She had a good notion to walk straight out the door and lock it behind her, but it was difficult to ignore a ringing phone. She set the box she was carrying on a stool and walked over to pick it up. “The Cookie Jar. This is Hannah speaking.”

“What are you doing there so late?”

It was Andrea and Hannah sighed. “I was just about to leave, but the phone rang.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hold you up.”

“That’s okay,” Hannah said, starting to grin. “I had to come back to answer the phone anyway.”

“No, you didn’t…I mean…That doesn’t make any…You’re kidding me, right?”

“Right.” Hannah laughed out loud. Andrea’s sputtering reaction was even better than she’d hoped for. “What did you want to tell me?”

“Two things. I couldn’t get your pillow at CostMart, because they were all out. They’re getting more in, but not until later in the week. I made them give me a rain check so you’ll still get the sale price.”

“Thanks, Andrea.” Hannah was grateful. She probably wouldn’t have thought to ask for a rain check. “What’s the second thing you had to tell me?”

“Mother called and she told me she was going to investigate Rhonda’s murder.”

“That’s true. She told me the same thing.”

“You’ve got to talk her out of it, Hannah. You’re older and she’ll listen to you.”

“No, she won’t. She’s never listened to me.”

“Just try it. Tell her she can’t do it.”

“Why not?”

“Because Mother doesn’t know anything about investigating murders, and all she’ll do is mess up the case for Bill and Mike. She might even get into trouble.”

“That’s possible,” Hannah agreed.

“And that’s why you have to talk her out of it. I don’t want Mother to get into trouble. Just tell her that you’re going to take over and she’ll back right off. That’s what she really wants anyway.”

Hannah sighed deeply. “I know.”

“Then it’s all settled and you’ll investigate?”

“Nothing’s settled. I haven’t made up my mind yet.”

“But you have to do it. Say you will, Hannah. I have a vested interest.”

“Everybody seems to have a vested interest. Mother wants me to investigate because she found Rhonda’s body and she feels obligated. Lisa wants me to investigate because she likes to take over the workload. And Norman wants me to investigate because Mike and Bill won’t let him tear the Voelker place down until the case is solved. What’s your vested interest?”

Andrea was silent for a moment. “It’s not as important as theirs.”

“What is it?”

“I want you to investigate because I’m bored and I want to help.”

“How can you be bored when you’re building The Cookie Jar float?”

“I already took care of that.”

“You mean it’s all finished?”

“Not exactly. But when Janice Cox saw my plans, she volunteered to build it. Tracey’s classmates and the people at the Senior Center are helping her.”

Hannah chuckled. Andrea was a master at delegating authority. Janice would end up doing all the work and she’d never realize what had hit her. “What’s the float like?”

“I’m keeping that a secret until the morning of the parade. By the way, I talked to Mayor Bascomb and he wants our float to lead off the parade, right behind his convertible.”

“Really?” Hannah was surprised. Usually that honor went to the oldest business in town.

“It’s all arranged. Now I need something else to do. This inactivity is driving me crazy. I just know I’ll get horribly depressed if you don’t let me help you investigate.”

“But even if I do decide to investigate, I can’t let you help me.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re pregnant and murder investigations are dangerous.”

“I know, but I’m not talking about going along with you, or anything like that. I can make calls and gather information. You’ll let me do that, won’t you?”

“Sure,” Hannah said, responding once again to the pleading note in her sister’s voice. It was the very same note that had convinced her to return her sister’s library books, help her with her homework, and bake cookies for her friends. “You can help me if I decide to investigate.”

“You will. You won’t be able to resist. Besides, Bill wants you to.”

“Really?” Hannah took that with a grain of salt. Andrea tended to hear only what she wanted to hear. “What makes you say that?”

“When he called me to tell me about Rhonda, he said this case would be different since you weren’t involved.”

“And that made you think he wanted me to investigate?”

“Absolutely. He sounded sad when he said it and I read between the lines. Bill wants your help. I’m sure of it.”

“Okay, if you say so.”

“What shall I do first?” Andrea asked, sounding eager.

“You’re jumping the gun. I haven’t decided to do it yet.”

“But you will and we might as well get started. Give me some phone calls to make. I’m sitting on the couch with my feet up because that’s what Bill wants me to do, but I’m right next to the phone.”

Hannah was about to say she couldn’t think of any calls for Andrea to make, when she remembered the two takeout dinners that had been in Rhonda’s trash can. “Grab the Yellow Pages and make a list of the restaurants in a ten-mile radius of the Voelker place. Call them and ask if they served takeout dinners over the weekend. When you get a yes, ask if their menu included osso buco.”

“Got it. Why do you need to know?”

“There were two containers of osso buco in Rhonda’s trash can.”

“Two?”

“That’s right, but one wasn’t touched. I figure Rhonda must have been expecting company. There were also two plastic wineglasses with dried red wine in the bottom. The person she invited showed up, but didn’t eat.”

“That doesn’t matter. The fingerprint guys should be able to get a print off the wineglass.”

“No, they can’t.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because they don’t have it. The garbage truck came before Mother found Rhonda’s body and I tossed out the bag.”

Andrea groaned. “That’s bad luck! What are the chances of the garbage truck showing up on the very day Mother finds Rhonda’s body?”

“One in seven. They pick up every week. But that’s why I need you to check out that takeout.”

“Okay. Don’t worry, Hannah. I won’t mention it to Bill, since we’re already on top of it. And just as soon as I find that restaurant, I’ll call you at home and tell you.”

After Hannah hung up the phone, she retrieved her box of day-old cookies. She was just opening the back door when her phone rang again.

“I don’t care who you are, I’m not going to answer,” Hannah snapped, turning on her heel and walking out. She was going home to Moishe and her boring vegetable salad. Her caller could just call back when she opened in the morning.

The air outside was hot and humid, nearly eighty degrees with a moisture content to match. As Hannah walked the short distance to her truck, she heard the grumble of thunder in the distance. The blacktop in the parking lot was spongy under the soles of her shoes, and she felt the perspiration break out on her skin.

The sun was still up and Hannah knew all about the greenhouse effect. She opened the driver’s door of her truck, reached in to stick her key into the ignition, and pushed the buttons to lower all the windows. Her leftover Chocolate Chip Crunch Cookies would be mush if she didn’t cool off the interior of her truck. Judging by the brief moment her arm had been inside the truck, it was almost as hot as her oven.

Thunder sounded again, low and rumbling like the growl of some predatory beast. Hannah stood there with the cookie box balanced in her arms and thought about the melting point of chocolate. Who would want to eat a mushy Chocolate Chip Crunch Cookie? Even if it was free? She stashed the box in the back of her truck, grabbed the bag that contained the Chocolate Chip Crunches and marched back inside The Cookie Jar to put it in her walk-in cooler. Driving home with chocolate in the back of her truck was too much of a temptation anyway. She’d give the bag to Jed and Freddy when they came in to finish the pantry shelves in the morning.

Hannah was just sliding into the driver’s seat when her mother’s car pulled into the lot. Delores parked behind her, so she couldn’t back up, exited her car, and rushed up. “I’m glad I caught you! Sally’s serving coq au vin tonight and I’ll take you out to dinner.”

Hannah’s hand froze near the ignition. Delores knew her weak spot and she wasn’t shy about hitting it. Coq au vin was one of Hannah’s favorite entrées at the Lake Eden Inn.

“We need to discuss my murder investigation. I told Carrie all about it and she wants to help.”

“Oh, joy,” Hannah muttered. Carrie had been itching to get involved in her last three murder cases.

“Don’t be like that. Carrie knows everybody in Lake Eden and she’ll be a valuable resource. Besides, I’m picking up the tab for dinner. When do you want to go?”

The thunder was growing louder by the minute and Hannah recognized a handy excuse when she heard it. “I’d love to join you and Carrie, but Moishe always gets a little crazy when it thunders. He’ll tear up the sofa if I don’t get home in time to turn up the volume on the television set.”

“That’s not a problem. You go on home and I’ll call Sally. I’ll make reservations for eight and pick you up at seven-thirty.”

Hannah bristled. Her mother always wanted to be in control of everything. “I don’t need anybody to pick me up. I have my own transportation.”

“That’s fine,” Delores smiled. “You can meet us there. Make sure you wear something appropriate, dear. You never know who you’ll run into and it’s always smart to look your best.”

Hannah thumped her fist on the steering wheel as her mother climbed back into her car and drove away. She’d had no intention of going out to dinner with her mother, but she’d been outmaneuvered. As she put her truck into gear, Hannah vowed not to use this as an excuse to break her diet. All she had to do was stay away from the delicious things like sauces, and Sally’s homemade rolls, and her yummy twice-baked potatoes, and the confections on the dessert cart. With all those restrictions, she’d probably end up with meat and a salad, but at least she wouldn’t have to fix it herself.

Chapter
Eight

D riving from her condo to the Lake Eden Inn took twenty minutes and even though it was seven-thirty in the evening, there was no need for Hannah to turn on her headlights. Only a week had passed since the summer solstice and June twenty-second was the longest day of the year. Darkness wouldn’t fall for another two hours and the summer sun was still slanting through the branches of the pines that lined the lakeshore, creating a venetian-blind effect on the dusty gravel of the road. Only the shadows were lengthening. When they reached a proportion longer than the height of the trees that teamed with the lowering sun to create them, they would take on a bluish hue. As night fell, their color would deepen to purple and then to velvety black.

Hannah switched off her air conditioner—it never cooled down her truck adequately anyway—and lowered all her windows to enjoy the breezes that blew across the lake. She’d have to brush her hair again when she got to the Lake Eden Inn, but driving with the windows down was pleasant. She’d dressed for dinner in a wraparound skirt, a sleeveless cotton blouse, and the leather thong sandals she’d purchased during her college years. They were made of water buffalo hide and no longer imported, but political correctness wasn’t one of her top priorities. The water buffalo in question had died long ago and giving up her favorite pair of sandals wouldn’t bring him back to life.

The pines along the shore grew in clusters and Hannah caught glimpses of fishing boats on the shining mirrored surface of Eden Lake as she drove past the gaps in the trees. Eden Lake was known for its record walleyes and most metropolitan families with a fisherman in residence were lured by the promise of trophy fish. They rented the cabins that the locals owned, and from dawn to dusk, Eden Lake was peppered with anglers.

As she drove, Hannah thought about Rhonda’s murder and by the time she’d taken the turnoff for the Lake Eden Inn, she’d reached a decision. Mother, Andrea, Norman, and Lisa all wanted her to investigate. Since she also wanted to investigate, that made five. From what Andrea had said, she could assume that Bill was neutral. He wasn’t firmly on the side of her involvement, but he wouldn’t put up much of a fuss. Mike was the only one who was firmly against it.

Five for, one neutral, and one against. Hannah tallied it up as she brushed her hair, got out of her truck, and headed for the entrance of the inn. The numbers were definitely on her side, and who was she to argue with the statistics? She’d just have to think of some way to deal with Mike’s resistance that wouldn’t land her in jail.

As Hannah walked up the path, she noticed that Dick’s topiary bear was filling out. It no longer looked skinny and it had grown to almost five feet. For a former stockbroker, Dick had turned out to be a decent gardener. He’d also done a great job of decorating the inn for summer. The porch had been hung with lights that looked like Japanese lanterns and their soft glow was festive. The Lake Eden Inn looked better every year. What had been a risky investment for Sally and Dick was paying off.

Hannah opened the double doors and stepped inside. The little alcove just to the right of the door had been decorated for summer with a small, self-contained fountain and a grouping of wicker furniture. In the winter it would contain the massive wooden boot rack and benches that were necessary in Minnesota.

“Hi, Hannah.” The hostess looked up as Hannah approached the restaurant door. It was Carly Richardson, Michelle’s friend from high school.

“I thought you were off at college, Carly.”

“I am,” Carly said. “I just came home for summer break and Sally hired me to fill in while her regular girl’s on vacation.”

“Do you know that Michelle’s coming back to town tomorrow night?”

“I know. She called Tricia and we’re all getting together for lunch on Wednesday. You’re out here for dinner, right?”

“Right. Mother’s supposed to join me.”

“Oh, Sally just seated your mother’s party. Just follow me and I’ll take you to their table.”

Her mother’s party? Hannah sighed as she followed Carly through the crowded dining room and into the bar. Her mother had told her to wear something appropriate and that should have rung alarm bells in Hannah’s mind. She hoped this wasn’t another attempt to fix her up with an eligible male.

As Carly walked toward the rear of the bar, Hannah found herself lagging behind. Sally had designated that section for private dining. There were four tables on a raised platform, separated from each other by carved wooden partitions that contained frosted glass. The space that faced the rest of the bar was hung with gauzy curtains that the occupants could draw, or leave open. The fact that her mother had requested one of the private tables and closed the curtains could mean only one thing. Delores had set her up again. The only question in Hannah’s mind was the identity of the man her mother was attempting to trap for her.

“Here’s Hannah, Mrs. Swensen,” Carly announced, pulling aside the corner of the curtain. “Since your party’s all here, shall I send the waitress to take your orders?”

“Not quite yet, dear,” Delores responded. “Give us five minutes and then we’ll be ready.”

Hannah wished she could turn on her heel and go back home, but her mother would never forgive her. She took a deep breath, plastered a smile on her face, and stepped inside the curtain. When she saw Norman, her smile turned genuine. “Hi, Norman. Hi, Carrie.”

“Come in and sit down, dear.” Delores motioned toward the spot they’d saved for her.

Hannah sat down and turned to Norman. “This is a nice surprise. Mother didn’t tell me you’d be here.”

“Just a minute, dear,” Delores hushed her, reaching out to arrange the curtains to hide them from general view. “I really don’t think we need everyone in town to see us discussing Rhonda’s murder.”

“Seeing us doesn’t matter, as long as they don’t hear us. And they’ll be less inclined to eavesdrop if they can see us.”

“You’ve got a point,” Delores conceded, opening the curtains again. “I’d never invade someone’s privacy like that, but I’m sure some people would.”

Hannah just barely managed to squelch a chuckle. She’d seen Delores take the long way around to the ladies room several times in the past, and once she’d even dropped her purse by the row of private booths so she’d have more time to listen.

“I have a question for you, Hannah.” Delores stared hard at her. “Norman says he asked you to investigate and you promised to think about it and let him know in the morning. Is that right?”

Hannah hesitated. She’d never been any good at walking on eggshells and this situation had the earmarks of a giant omelet in the making. What if Delores really wanted the job as chief investigator and she’d resent it if Hannah took over? Was there any explanation Hannah could give for her change of heart that wouldn’t lead to infanticide? Or was infanticide called something else when a mother killed her grown daughter?

“Well?” Delores glared at her. “I’m waiting for an explanation, Hannah Louise.”

Her mother only called her Hannah Louise when she was in big trouble and Hannah thought fast. “Norman told me that Mike and Bill roped off the entire Voelker house as a crime scene and he can’t tear it down before they solve Rhonda’s murder. That means he might have to delay building our dream house until spring, and…”

“That’s enough, dear,” Delores interrupted her. “I understand perfectly and I think you made the right decision. It was a matter of priorities.”

Hannah felt a bit guilty as she basked in her mother’s approval. Delores thought their dream house had made all the difference. If Hannah weren’t careful, her mother would be sending out invitations to a bridal shower that would never happen.

Norman looked eager as he turned to Hannah. “Does that mean that you’re going to do it?”

“Of course it does,” Delores answered for her. “And I’m glad we got all this settled. We’ll all do everything we can to help you, Hannah. I made some calls this afternoon and I’m almost positive that Rhonda led a double life.”

“Really?” Norman looked interested. “What kind of a double life?”

Delores leaned across the table and lowered her voice. “I think she had a boyfriend, perhaps even more than one. But let’s not go into all that now. Why don’t we order? Once we’ve eaten, we can discuss Rhonda’s murder in detail over dessert.”

Hannah’s dietary resolve wavered dangerously when their waitress wheeled up the dessert cart. Sally’s delicious flourless chocolate cake was sitting in the center of the display. Hannah started to salivate the moment she spotted it.

“I’ll have the chocolate cake,” Delores declared. “I ordered it the last time I was here and it was simply scrumptious.”

“The same for me,” Carrie echoed.

“Nothing for me.” Norman glanced at Hannah. “How about you?”

“Just coffee.” Hannah forced the words past her lips. She’d followed her diet to the letter so far, eating only her salad and her serving of coq au vin. She’d even ordered steamed broccoli in place of potatoes.

Once their coffee had been replenished and the cake had been served, Delores turned to Hannah. “Well? What do you want us to do first, dear?”

Eat your cake fast, before I cave, Hannah thought, her eyes glued to the rich confection on her mother’s dessert plate, but of course she didn’t say that. If Delores found out that she was on a diet, she’d have to listen to hours of unsolicited and unhelpful advice. “Just keep your ears open for any facts about Rhonda’s private life that might have led to a motive for her murder.”

“I think I can find out who her boyfriend was,” Carrie volunteered. “When I get home tonight, I’ll make some calls.”

“How about the UPS man?” Delores asked.

“Sam?” Carrie sounded shocked. “Oh, he was Rhonda’s cousin on her father’s side. That’s why he used to drop by to have lunch with her.”

“Is Sam still in the area?” Hannah asked, wondering about Rhonda’s family history. If Rhonda’s cousin was jealous over the fact Rhonda had inherited the Voelker place, he might have had a motive for murder.

“No, he went back to Utah a few months ago. Rhonda said his uncle was wealthy and they owned some high-tech corporation. Sam took over as president when the uncle retired.”

Hannah sighed, mentally scratching Sam from her list of suspects. Not only was he several hundred miles away, he was now running a successful business. Sam wasn’t likely to care that his cousin had inherited an old wreck of a house in Lake Eden, Minnesota.

“Would it help to talk to Rhonda’s cleaning woman?” Norman asked.

“Absolutely.” Hannah beamed at him. Cleaning women often knew a lot more than they let on. “Do you know who she was?”

“Luanne’s mother, Marjorie Hanks. She called and left a message on my answering machine at the clinic to see if I wanted her to keep on cleaning the house. I told her I didn’t, but I hired her to clean the dental clinic.”

Hannah took out her notebook and jotted down the information. Marjorie Hanks was no fool. She might have noticed something at the Voelker house that could provide them with a clue.

Delores pushed her partially eaten cake across the table toward Hannah. “Would you like to finish it, dear? My eyes were bigger than my stomach and I know it’s one of your favorites.”

Despite her best intentions, Hannah glanced down at the cake. It looked moist and delicious, and the scent of chocolate wafted dark and heady in the air. Hannah had the insane notion to utter the words, Vade retro, Satana, undoubtedly prompted by the fact that she’d watched a rerun of The Exorcist over the weekend. She reminded herself that it hadn’t helped Max Von Sydow and it probably wouldn’t help her, either. Her only solution was to move herself out of harm’s way.

“Thanks, but I’ll pass,” Hannah said, rising to her feet before she could grab the remaining cake and stuff it into her mouth. “Excuse me. I need to find Sally to tell her how much I enjoyed the dinner.”

After a fruitless search of the dining room, Hannah found Sally in the kitchen. She was sitting at the small desk in the corner, writing out the lunch specials for the next day.

“Hi, Hannah,” Sally greeted her. “Did you enjoy your dinner?”

“It was delicious. Do you have any idea how many calories there are in…never mind. I don’t want to know. I was just wondering if you’d served osso buco lately, like over the weekend?”

Sally shook her head. “I haven’t been able to get a good cut of veal in a month. Why? Did you want some?”

“I always want some, but that’s not why I’m asking.”

Sally looked slightly confused for a moment, and then she recovered. “I guess it must have something to do with Rhonda’s murder. You’re investigating, aren’t you?”

“Yes, but keep it under your toque.”

“It won’t do any good. He’s bound to find out.”

“He who?” Hannah asked, feeling a bit like a Swiss yodeler.

“Mike. He always finds out. He’s mad at you for a day or so, and then he gets over it. Why don’t you just tell him now and get it over with? That way he can’t say you weren’t up-front with him.”

Hannah stared at Sally for a long moment. It was a good suggestion. “You’re a wise woman, Sally.”

“The jury’s still out on that one. Just let me know if there’s anything I can do to help you.”

“Thanks.” Hannah turned and started for the door, but she reversed direction as she thought of something. “Do you know if Rhonda ever came in for dinner with a man?”

“Not offhand. I’m only in the dining room part of the time. The rest of the dinner hour, I’m here. Do you want me to ask my waitresses?”

“Yes, and call me if anything turns up.”

“I will. Are you working on the jealous boyfriend angle?”

“It might be a bit premature. I don’t even know if Rhonda had a boyfriend.”

“You’ll find out. You’re good at this. If I wasn’t so crazy about your cookies, I’d urge you to switch jobs.”

As Hannah returned to the crowded dining room, she thought about Rhonda and she had to work to keep the smile on her face. She hadn’t been very curious about Rhonda in the past, but now that she was dead, her life had taken on a new importance. It seemed that people could walk through life without causing a ripple, leading ordinary and uneventful lives. It was only after they’d been murdered that people took notice of them. And that thought was depressing.

Hannah sighed as she approached the private booth where her mother, Carrie, and Norman waited. There was only one cure for depression and that was chocolate. If her mother’s cake wasn’t gone by now, it would be shortly.

Chapter
Nine

W hen Hannah reached her turnoff, she pressed the buttons to close the windows in her truck, leaving only the driver’s window open. She’d lowered them all to enjoy the night air while she drove home, but she had to stop to use her gate card to get into her condo complex, and a stationary vehicle was a prime target for the voracious blood-sucking insects that outnumbered the human population of the state of Minnesota by millions. Some people claimed that the mosquito was the state bird, but Hannah always denied it to the tourists who came into her cookie shop. She conceded that the mosquito might be the state insect, but that would be a close call with the competition from the moths that fluttered around every yard and porch light, the June bugs that flung themselves at the screens, and the deerflies that dive-bombed careless hikers who were foolish enough to wear shorts in the woods. Insects loved Minnesota with its ten thousand lakes. The climate was moist, the air was muggy, and they multiplied with wild abandon.

Once Hannah had driven through the complex and parked in her spot in the underground garage, she climbed up to street level and headed for the covered staircase that led to her upstairs unit. When she reached her door, she slipped her key in the lock, set down her purse, stood firmly on both feet, and opened the door. Just as she’d anticipated, a flying ball of orange and white fur hurtled itself through the air.

“Hi, Moishe.” Hannah caught her cat expertly, using both arms. After almost a year of this enthusiastic method of greeting, she was used to his antics. “You’re glad to see me, right?”

Moishe started to purr as Hannah retrieved her purse with one arm and carried him inside with the other. She chucked him once under his chin, set him down on the back of the couch, and went straight to the kitchen to get him his nightly treat.

Hannah smiled as she dished vanilla yogurt into one of the expensive cut-glass dessert dishes that had been a Christmas present from her mother. According to Delores, the dishes had appreciated in value, and although her mother would certainly disagree, Hannah figured that Moishe deserved to eat from expensive crystal.

As she put the yogurt back into the refrigerator, Hannah eyed the green glass jug of white wine on the bottom shelf. She had been good tonight, forgoing the rolls and dessert, and eating only her salad, chicken, and vegetables. A glass of chateau screwtop was only eighty calories and she deserved a treat. Besides, she still had to call Mike to tell him she’d changed her mind about getting involved in Rhonda’s murder investigation, and the argument they’d have was bound to burn a lot of calories.

Hannah knew she was rationalizing, a no-no for a person on a diet, but her mind was spinning with possible suspects and motives, and she was sure she’d never be able to get to sleep without a small glass of wine. It was obviously the correct thing to do for her health and well-being, and who was she to argue with that? She carried the dessert dish into the living room for Moishe and went back to pour a glass of wine for herself. One sip and then she’d call Mike and face the music.

Once she’d taken up her favorite position on the couch and tasted the forbidden fruit of the vine, Hannah reached for the phone and called the sheriff’s station. A moment later, she was smiling. Mike wasn’t in. If her luck held, he wouldn’t be home either, and she could put off their argument until morning.

Hannah crossed the fingers on both hands and punched in Mike’s home number, no easy feat. Then she held her breath as the phone rang once, twice…

“Hello?”

“Hi, Mike.” Hannah sighed deeply. Her luck had turned rotten and perhaps it was a good thing she hadn’t bought more than one ticket for the quilt the Lake Eden Altar Guild was raffling off. “I need to talk to you about Rhonda’s murder case.”

“Now? I’m in a rush, Hannah. I just stopped off to grab a clean shirt. Bill’s waiting for me in the cruiser.”

“It won’t take long. I just wanted to tell you that I changed my mind about investigating. I’m going to do it.”

“I sort of figured you would,” Mike said, and then he shocked Hannah by chuckling.

“You’re laughing?” Hannah heard her voice squeak in surprise.

“Of course I’m laughing. I was wondering how long it would take you to change your mind. It’s only ten-thirty and that means I won.”

Hannah’s mouth dropped open. “You won what?”

“The office pool. I took the lowest number. Bill thought you’d cave in by midnight, but I figured it wouldn’t take you that long. Rick Murphy said eight tomorrow morning and Sheriff Grant thought you’d hold out until noon. The others were all somewhere between that, except for Lonnie, Rick Murphy’s younger brother. He had you down for two full days.”

“How many people were in on this?” Hannah asked, not really sure if she wanted to know.

“A dozen. We each put in ten bucks, so I just won a hundred and twenty.”

“A hundred and ten,” Hannah corrected him. She was still fuming about the fact that she’d been the subject of an office pool and her words hissed out like droplets of water skittering across the surface of a hot griddle. “It’s only a hundred and twenty if you forget to subtract your own ten dollars.”

“You’re prickly tonight.” Mike sounded amused.

“Of course I am. You’re betting on me like a football game and I don’t like it. Besides, office pools are illegal.”

“I guess you could turn us all in, but then you’d have to explain what the pool was about. I don’t think you’d like to do that.”

“You’re right. I wouldn’t,” Hannah said, giving it up as a bad job.

“Thanks for winning me a bundle, Hannah. I’ll take you out to dinner with it. If there’s nothing else, I’ve got to run. I’ll drop in to see you tomorrow and we’ll compare notes, okay?”

“Uh…okay.” Hannah hung up the phone with a sigh. She wasn’t sure what she should be feeling. Of course she was relieved that Mike hadn’t been upset at what he’d always referred to as her interference, but it seemed that no one at the sheriff’s station had expected her to keep her word about not getting involved.

Hannah thought back to the scene of Rhonda’s death. Something was bothering her, niggling at the back of her mind, and she couldn’t help feeling that she’d missed an obvious clue. She went over the scene of the crime in her mind, trying to remember everything she’d noticed. The Voelker house had two entrances. They’d gone in through the front and she’d used the back door when she’d carried out the garbage. She’d gone through every one of the rooms, helping Delores tag the items she wanted. The only things that might have been clues were her pie on the kitchen table and the takeout containers and disposable wineglasses in the garbage. There had been nothing else unusual or out of place, no signs of a struggle, and nothing that would lead anyone to suspect that Rhonda’s body was in the basement.

The stairs to the basement had seemed perfectly ordinary, in good repair and clear of debris. Once she’d followed Norman down into the basement, she hadn’t noticed anything alarming. There had been the usual clutter and moldy smell, but it was a rare basement that wasn’t cluttered and moldy. The door to the furnace room had been hanging from one hinge, but since Hannah hadn’t examined it closely, she had no idea whether it had pulled loose recently, or had been that way for years.

Hannah took herself through the door to the furnace room in her mind. Other than the broken jam jars on the dirt floor, there hadn’t been any visible clues. Who had broken those jars? Delores, in her shock at seeing Rhonda’s grave? Or Rhonda’s killer, as he’d struggled with her?

“Sorry, Moishe.” Hannah reached out to run her fingers through his glossy fur. “This may upset you, but I need to call your least favorite person.”

Hannah picked up the phone, punched in her mother’s number, and a few seconds later she had her mother on the line. “Thanks again for dinner, Mother.”

“You’re welcome. It was fun seeing you and Norman together. Carrie and I talked about it on the way home and we both think you make such a nice couple.”

“Thanks,” Hannah said, leaving it at that. Delores sounded perky and chipper, and Hannah admired her mother’s energy. Most women approaching their sixtieth birthday would be exhausted after working all day and going out to dinner, not to mention finding a murder victim. “I need some information, Mother.”

“About Rhonda? I just got home and I haven’t had a chance to make any calls yet.”

“Not about Rhonda, at least not directly. I need to know about those broken jam jars in the furnace room. Are you absolutely sure you didn’t drop them on the floor?”

“I’m positive. I didn’t even touch them. I remember stepping around them and thinking that someone ought to clean them up.”

“Okay. Thanks, Mother. You’ve been a big help. I’ll let you go now and I’ll see you…”

“Just a minute, Hannah,” Delores interrupted before Hannah could hang up the phone. “I just want you to know that I’m very heartened about this thing with Norman.”

“What thing?”

“The fact that you sided with him, instead of Mike. That means a lot to a man and you made the right decision. I like Mike well enough, but he’s not good husband material.”

Hannah drew a deep breath and let it out again slowly. Then she said, very carefully, “Don’t get your hopes up, Mother. Neither one of them has proposed yet. And I’m not sure what I’d say if they did.”

“Good girl, Hannah!” Delores exclaimed, giving a lighthearted laugh. “I always told you it wasn’t smart to wear your heart on your sleeve.”

Hannah knew she should leave well enough alone, but she couldn’t resist. “Andrea did and it worked for her. Everyone knew she was crazy about Bill.”

“That’s different. They were young and he gave her his class ring when she was a senior. That made them pre-engaged. And after that, they were recognized as a couple, and everyone expected them to get married. It’s really not fair to compare your current situation with your sister’s. Andrea never dated two men at the same time.”

Hannah clamped her mouth shut and didn’t say a word. She happened to know that her sister had dated two boys in high school who’d never known about each other. It was obvious that Delores hadn’t known about them either, and Hannah wasn’t going to be the one to tell her.

“I’ve got to run, dear. I’m starting to crack.”

“Crack?”

“My face. I’m giving myself a facial and my fifteen minutes are up. If I don’t wash it off now, I’ll have to peel it. Goodnight, dear.”

When she’d hung up the phone, Hannah glanced at Moishe, who’d been listening to her conversation. His tail was swishing back and forth, his ears were back, and he’d puffed up into attack mode. Hannah grinned and reached out to smooth his fur. “It’s okay. I hung up and I don’t have to talk to her again tonight.”

But Moishe wasn’t that easily soothed. His tail continued to flick and he regarded her with baleful eyes.

“Come on, Moishe.” Hannah reached out for him again. “If you come closer, I’ll scratch your ears.”

Moishe regarded her solemnly for several seconds and then he moved to the far side of the couch, putting as much space between them as possible.

“I’m not the enemy here, Moishe. As a matter of fact, I saved you from seeing Mother tonight. She offered to pick me up here and take me to dinner. If I’d agreed to that, she might have come in when she brought me home. Think about it. You would have hated that!”

Hannah wasn’t sure what went on in a cat’s mind, but Moishe seemed to take it all in. He stared at her for several seconds and then he turned around, inching forward until his head was resting in her lap.

“That’s better,” Hannah said, scratching his ears and earning a rumble for her efforts. “I knew you’d see it my way. Aren’t you glad I have my own wheels and I can drive myself? I don’t have to rely on…”

When Hannah stopped speaking and scratching his ears, Moishe lifted his head to stare up at her. His expression was as quizzical as a cat’s expression could get.

“I just thought of something,” Hannah told him. “I don’t remember seeing Rhonda’s car at the Voelker place. I know it wasn’t in the driveway when I pulled up, and it couldn’t have been in the garage. I looked through the window and it was filled with firewood.”

Hannah interpreted the expression on Moishe’s face to mean, Yes? So what? and she went on. “If Rhonda drove out there, her car would be there. But if she rode with someone else, her car should be parked in the garage at her apartment building.”

Moishe made a sound, a cross between a yowl and a purr, and Hannah nodded, just as if he’d suggested another possibility. He was a social being and he liked to be included in the conversation. “You’re right, Moishe. The only other possibility is that Rhonda’s car was at the Voelker place and her killer stole it to make his getaway.”

Hannah flipped to a blank page in her notebook and jotted a reminder to check Rhonda’s apartment building for her car. If she found it parked in its assigned spot, her next step would be to canvass the neighbors to see if anyone had seen Rhonda leave.

The phone rang again, just as Hannah finished making her notes. She reached out to answer it and smiled when she recognized Lisa’s voice. “Hi, Lisa. Did you find that list of pie buyers?”

“I’ve got it right here. I’m sorry it’s so late, but I just got home.”

“That’s okay. Did you have a good time?”

“Yes. We went out to the Corner Tavern for a steak and then we dropped in at the bowling alley. They were short a couple of people on one of the teams, so Herb and I filled in.”

“How did you do?”

“Not bad. I averaged one-twenty a game and that’s good for me. When we finished, it was time for Herb’s night rounds and I rode along.”

Hannah knew all about Herb’s night rounds. Unlike Bill and Mike, who were with the county sheriff’s department, Herb Beeseman was on the Lake Eden city payroll. During the day he enforced parking regulations and ticketed drivers who committed driving infractions within the city limits. Two months ago the city council had asked Herb to patrol the business district every evening. Local business owners had given Herb keys to use in case of emergency, and the extra precaution had worked out well. In the two months that Herb had been patrolling at night, he’d spotted a broken faucet in the café that had saved Hal and Rose a massive cleanup, and he’d turned off a smoldering halogen lamp in Stan Kramer’s office.

“It’s usually boring, but tonight we had some excitement,” Lisa went on. “The alarm went off just as we were driving past Granny’s Attic.”

“Mother had a break-in?”

“No. Herb used his key to check out the inside and everything was fine.”

Hannah was puzzled. “Why did the alarm go off if no one broke in?”

“It was the electricity. Remember that pole the owner put up between The Cookie Jar and Granny’s Attic?”

“Of course,” Hannah said. The pole was an eyesore, but the owner had assured them he’d take it down just as soon as Granny’s Attic was rewired.

“The problem is with the circuits. The same circuit that runs your mother’s alarm is the one that runs our freezer and our walk-in cooler. If our cooler and freezer happen to kick in together, there’s a sudden drop in power that triggers the alarm at Granny’s Attic.”

“That doesn’t sound good. Does Herb think it could happen again?”

“It could, but your mother’s taking care of it. Herb just spoke to her and she’s going to call the alarm company in the morning. They’ll send a man out to move her alarm system to a circuit that’s not so heavily loaded.”

“Good. How about our freezer and walk-in cooler? Are they okay?”

“They are now, thanks to Herb. It didn’t affect our freezer at all, but our cooler’s got some kind of internal circuit breaker that shuts it off during a brownout. Herb hit the reset button and it started right up.”

“Tell Herb he’s a doll.”

Lisa laughed. “I’ll tell him. Do you want those names of pie buyers now?”

“Sure.” Hannah reached for her steno pad and a pen. “Okay, I’m ready.”

Lisa read off the names and Hannah wrote them down. No one on the list seemed likely to have given Rhonda a pie, but she thanked Lisa, told her she’d see her in the morning, and hung up the phone. It was past bedtime and morning would come much too soon.

Hannah performed her nightly ritual, making sure the doors were locked and preparing the coffeemaker for its automatic timed brew in the morning. She washed her face, brushed her teeth, and got into the oversized shirt that she wore for a nightgown. She was just about to crawl into bed when the phone rang again.

“Hello?” Hannah answered at bedside, using the shocking-pink Princess phone she’d picked up at the thrift shop. The little light no longer worked, but the phone was still operational.

“Hi, Hannah. It’s me.” Andrea’s voice floated out of the tiny holes in the receiver. “I’m sorry it’s so late, but I didn’t get a chance to call earlier.”

“That’s okay. I wasn’t in bed yet.”

“Good. I made some calls right after I talked to you, but the finer restaurants weren’t open yet. I hit pay dirt about an hour ago, but Bill came home and I didn’t want to call you until he went to bed.”

“What did you find out?”

“It’s Alfredo’s Ristorante. That’s the new place out at the lake. They served osso buco for takeout on Friday night.”

“Good job!” Hannah said, jotting down the name. “Thanks, Andrea.”

“No problem. It was easy. What do you want me to do next?”

Hannah thought about the leads she had to follow. “Do you know where Rhonda’s apartment building is?”

“Sure. I’ve got her address in my client file. She lives at the apartment building that Beatrice and Ted Koester bought last year.”

“Could you run over there in the morning and check to see if her car is still in the garage? It would save me a trip.”

“I can do that. What do you want me to do if it’s there?”

“Nothing. Just drop by The Cookie Jar and tell me. We’ll decide what to do about it then.”

“Okay. I’d better get to bed before Bill starts wondering what I’m doing out here. I’ll see you in the morning, Hannah.”

Hannah hung up and opened the bedroom window to catch any night breezes that might blow her way. Then she doused the light to stop the moths from trying to commit suicide against her screen and crawled under the sheet she used as a quilt in the summer. There was a thump, resembling a mini-earthquake, and a furry shape crept up in the near darkness. Hannah grabbed her pillow protectively and glared in his direction. “This pillow is mine. I won’t let you have it until my new one comes.”

There was a rustle and then another thump as Moishe settled down on the other pillow, the foam one she’d designated for his use. Silence filled her bedroom for several moments and then Hannah heard a rumbling purr. She reached out and stroked Moishe’s soft fur three times and pulled her hand back. Experience had taught her that four strokes would cause him to move to the bottom of her bed. Hannah checked to make sure her alarm clock was set correctly and then she seized her pillow in a death grip and closed her eyes, hoping that her arms wouldn’t loosen as she slept so that Moishe could steal it again.

Chapter
Ten

H annah awoke to an inky black bedroom and the infernal electronic beeping of her alarm clock. It took her a minute to sit up and shut it off, but when she did, she realized that her head had been lying on the mattress. She flicked on the light and turned to eye her goose-down pillow. Moishe had commandeered it once again.

Even though she wanted to settle back down for another few minutes of rest, Hannah tossed back the sheet, placed her feet firmly on the floor, and got out of bed. It was a psychological trick she’d learned in college and it worked for those mornings when she was tired and wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep. Once she’d thrown back the covers and was standing by the side of the bed, the task of straightening the bedding to climb back in seemed like more work than starting the day.

Hannah stuffed her feet into her slippers and walked down the hallway to the kitchen. Once she got there, she switched on the light and headed straight for the coffeepot. There was coffee in the carafe and the little red light was glowing. She sent up a short, thankful prayer for modern conveniences and poured her first cup of the day.

The coffee was hot, practically scalding, but Hannah sipped gratefully. Even the kink in her neck seemed to straighten out somewhat with the invigorating infusion of Swedish Plasma. She drank one cup standing, leaning one hip against the counter, and then she poured a second. Her eyes were no longer at half-mast and her brain was beginning to function again.

There was a plaintive yowl from the direction of Moishe’s food bowl and Hannah turned to frown at him. The new pillow couldn’t come soon enough to suit her! Even though her neck was still stiff as a result of Moishe’s nighttime theft, her heart wasn’t hard enough to resist the appeal in his round yellow eyes.

Once Hannah had given Moishe fresh water and filled his bowl with kitty crunchies, she carried her second cup of coffee to the table and opened her steno pad. It was time to organize her day, now while she was still only three-quarters awake. If she waited until she was fully alert, the task would seem daunting.

Hannah glanced at the calendar that hung on the kitchen wall, an exact duplicate of the one in the kitchen at her cookie shop. She had a two o’clock cookie-catering job for the Lake Eden Quilt Society at Trudi’s Fabrics, and a three o’clock at the community center for the Lake Eden Friends of the Library. She jotted those down, then turned to other matters. She had to mail off the rent check for The Cookie Jar, change the batteries on the flashlights she carried in her truck, and buy a bag of lettuce and some sliced low-fat turkey breast for her dinner salad. These were small things, easily accomplished, but they all took time. And somewhere between her trip to the grocery store, her baking, and her catering, she had to find time to investigate Rhonda’s murder.

“Shower time,” Hannah said, glancing at Moishe, who was more concerned with crunching down his breakfast than anything she might have to say. His bowl was still half full, but Moishe was a pessimist. A half-full bowl was half empty to him, and he’d panic if any part of Garfield’s picture on the bottom came into view. Hannah added another scoop for insurance before she headed off to the shower.

In exactly fifteen minutes, Hannah emerged from her bedroom, dressed and ready for her day. She owned three short-sleeved cotton pantsuits that she wore for summer catering jobs and she’d chosen the green one this morning. As she’d pulled on the pants, she’d noticed that they’d felt a bit looser. It was difficult to judge with elastic waists and perhaps it was only wishful thinking on her part, but she really thought her diet was working.

Since she still had a few minutes before she had to leave, Hannah retrieved the steno pad she was using for Rhonda’s case notes and sat back down at the kitchen table. She’d written down what Norman had told her, that Marjorie Hanks had been the one to clean the Voelker place. She’d even thought about calling Luanne’s mother when she’d gotten home last night, but she’d decided that it was too late. Now it was too early. Even if Marjorie rose before sunrise, she wouldn’t appreciate getting a phone call first thing in the morning.

Hannah flipped to the next page. She’d copied the list of pie buyers that Lisa had given her and it was time to go over them again. Perhaps she’d see a connection now that it was morning and she was more alert.

There were ten names. Hannah checked them off one by one. Most were repeat customers, mothers who always came in for pie on Friday to serve it to their families that night. There was no way any of them had given their dinner pie to Rhonda. The two men on the list were easy to eliminate. One lived out at the retirement home and shared Hannah’s pie with his friends. The other was a Jordan High student who took Hannah’s pies to his girlfriend’s mother when he went to her house for Friday night dinners.

Hannah shook her head. There was one name left, Claire Rodgers. And Claire had bought three pies. Hannah stopped to think about that for a moment. Claire was single and she lived alone. If she’d bought three pies, she must have planned to take them somewhere. Was it possible she’d given one of her pies to Rhonda?

Several more sips of idea-generating caffeine and Hannah had come up with a possible scenario. What if Rhonda had gone into Claire’s shop on Friday afternoon to purchase a new wardrobe for her trip? If Claire had already picked up her pies, Rhonda might have seen them and mentioned that she liked lemon meringue. Claire might have given one pie to Rhonda as a thank-you, especially if Rhonda had just spent a lot of money on clothes.

Hannah knew her scenario was reasonable. It could have happened that way. She’d drop by Beau Monde the first chance she got and ask Claire if she was right.

The sky was beginning to lighten by the time Hannah turned into the alley behind The Cookie Jar, but she didn’t turn off her headlights. They were still necessary to distinguish the dark blobs of the Dumpsters from the darker blobs of the buildings.

Hannah parked in her spot and shut the windows, but she left an inch gap on the driver’s side to defeat the greenhouse effect. She grabbed the old beach towel she kept on the passenger’s seat, folded it twice because it was so threadbare, and draped it over the steering wheel. The seats in her truck didn’t get that hot. They were upholstered in fabric. But her steering wheel was covered in black vinyl and it soaked up the sun. All would be well if she’d wear oven mitts to drive, but she didn’t.

As Hannah stepped out of her truck, the air hit her like a tangible force. She’d never really thought about air having weight before, but this air was like walking through invisible pudding. It was so heavy with moisture, the humidity had to be close to the hundred-percent mark.

The first thing Hannah did when she stepped inside her kitchen was switch on the air conditioning. The next thing she did was to check to see if the cooler was running. It was, and she heaved a big sigh of relief as she carried out the bowls of cookie dough and set them on the surface of the workstation. She had the urge to drag a stool into the cooler and sit there for a while, but there was work to do and she didn’t have time. She fired up her ovens, clamped one of the little paper caps mandated by the health board over her unruly red curls, and washed her hands thoroughly. Then she tied on an apron and got right to work. There were multiple batches of cookies to bake and she wanted to finish before Lisa came in. Her partner had enough work to do waiting on their customers, taking phone orders, and boxing up cookies for special orders.

Just as she’d planned, Hannah had finished the baking when Lisa arrived. Racks of cooling Black and Whites, Oatmeal Raisin Crisps, and Twin Chocolate Delights filled the kitchen, and other varieties of cookies were already in the glass jars they used for display behind the coffee shop counter.

“You’ve been busy!” Lisa exclaimed, glancing around her. “How many did you snitch?”

“None. I didn’t even taste the Cinnamon Crisps and that’s my newest recipe.”

“Where did you get it?” Lisa asked, reaching for one and taking a bite.

“I made it up. My dad used to make us cinnamon toast for breakfast when Mother was out antiquing. I thought that cookies with the same taste would be good.”

“They are good,” Lisa said, taking another bite. “They’re crunchy and simple and absolutely delicious.”

“You really like them?”

“Well…I’m not exactly sure, now that I think about it.” Lisa gave an impish grin. “I might have to eat a few more before I can make up my mind.”

Hannah laughed. “Go ahead. This batch is a test run. I won’t sell them until I get them perfect.”

“They’re perfect.” Lisa grabbed two more cookies and headed for the swinging door to the coffee shop. “I’ll start the coffee and fill the rest of the serving jars.”

The chores didn’t take long with both of them working together. When they’d finished, they had twenty minutes before it was time for them to open, and they carried mugs of coffee to their favorite table in the back of the coffee shop.

“Did you decide?” Lisa asked, taking the chair across from Hannah.

“About the Cinnamon Crisps?”

“No, about Rhonda. You’re going to catch her killer, aren’t you?”

“I’m going to try.”

“Good.” Lisa shivered slightly and cupped her hands around her mug of coffee. “I just can’t get over it. She was here one day and dead the next. How about that pie you found? Do you think it has anything to do with her murder?”

“Maybe, but even if it doesn’t, it’ll help me establish a timeline for the day of her death. I need to know where she went, who she talked to, and what she did.”

“That seems like a good place to start. What can I do to help?”

“Just keep your ears open. People talk and someone may know something about Rhonda’s last hours. If you pick up anything, tell me right away and…” Hannah stopped speaking and winced.

“What’s the matter?” Lisa asked, looking concerned.

“I’m getting a terrible headache. I swear I can actually hear my head pounding.”

“That’s not your head. It’s some kind of noise coming from outside. Hold on a second and I’ll go look.”

Lisa unlocked the front door and peered out. When she came back, she was grinning. “You were right. It’s a headache, all right.”

“What is?”

“The Jordan High marching band. What you heard was their bass drum. I’ll get the aspirin bottle. They’re headed this way.”

After she’d washed down two aspirin, Hannah watched as the band came into view. Even though the doors and windows were closed, she could hear the mutilated strains of “The Stars and Stripes Forever.”

“They’re awful,” Lisa said, reaching up to cover her ears.

Hannah did the same. The trumpet section could certainly use a review lesson in sharps and flats, and she shuddered to think of what would happen when they got to the piccolo obbligato, since there wasn’t a piccolo in sight.

Hannah held her breath as the band reached the critical measures and then she groaned aloud. Two girls on clarinets were attempting the part, and it was obvious they weren’t at all skilled on the upper registers.

“Maybe they’ll get better in time for the parade,” Lisa mused, but after a glance at Hannah’s pained expression, she shook her head. “You’re right. That’s probably asking too much.”

When the hands of their wall clock reached nine, Lisa unlocked the door and customers began to come in for morning coffee and cookies. Business was brisk for the first hour and it took the efforts of both Hannah and Lisa to serve their customers. Things didn’t slow down until after ten and that was when Andrea walked in. By the smile on her sister’s face, Hannah knew she had information about Rhonda.

“What is it?” Hannah asked, pouring Andrea a glass of orange juice.

Andrea glanced around her. The only other people at the counter were Amalia Greerson and Babs Dubinski, engrossed in a conversation of their own. “The subject’s car is still there.”

“You mean Rhonda’s?”

“Shh!” Andrea put a finger to her lips.

“It’s okay.” Hannah leaned forward across the counter. “Babs is trying to play matchmaker.”

“You mean for her son?”

“Right. And Amalia’s not buying it. She thinks he’s too old for her granddaughter.”

“He is. She just graduated from high school and there’s got to be at least a fifteen-year difference. And the fact that he’s a tax accountant tacks on another ten years.”

“You’re right,” Hannah said, remembering the ill-fated evening when Delores had set her up with Babs’s son. To say that it had been boring would be kind. “What else did you find out? When you came in, you were grinning like the Cheshire cat.”

“Let’s go in the back,” Andrea suggested, picking up her glass of orange juice and leading the way. She was mum until she’d taken a stool at the workstation and then she grinned proudly. “I got the autopsy report from Doc Knight this morning.”

“You mean you saw Bill’s copy?”

“No, he doesn’t have it yet. I had to drop off a sample for Doc Knight and I asked him about it.”

“A sample?”

“You know, a sample. I couldn’t give him one yesterday and it’s all Mother’s fault. Remember how she always said to go before we left the house?”

Hannah caught on immediately. “So you did, and then you couldn’t give him a sample?”

“That’s right. It was a good thing, though. I asked him about Rhonda, just making conversation, and he said he thinks she was killed between eight and nine on Friday night. And then he talked about stomach contents. Your lemon pie was there and so was the osso buco.”

Hannah was surprised. “Doc Knight actually identified it as osso buco?”

“No, but the ingredients were right.”

“How do you know?” Hannah was puzzled. “You’ve never made it, have you?”

Andrea shook her head. “I looked it up in a cookbook.”

“You have a cookbook?”

“Of course I do. My friends got together and gave me a whole set for a wedding present. The only ingredient that didn’t fit was ripe olives.”

Hannah made a mental note of that. “Did Doc Knight think Rhonda had anything else to eat?”

“No, but she drank some red wine. That was when he started talking about some other tests he’d run and I stopped listening because I was getting a little queasy.”

Hannah shoved a rack of cooled Chocolate Chip Crunch Cookies closer to her sister. “Have a couple of cookies. The chocolate will settle your stomach. And while you’re at it, bag up a half-dozen for Claire Rodgers.”

“You’re going to Beau Monde?”

“Yes. Lisa offered to take over for me until my two-o’clock catering gig.”

“Your diet’s working and you’re buying smaller clothes?” Andrea guessed.

“Not exactly. Claire bought three lemon pies on Friday and I need to find out if she gave one to Rhonda.”

“I’m coming along,” Andrea announced, taking a cookie for herself and bagging another half-dozen for Claire. “Claire left a message on my machine that my maternity clothes came in. You can talk to her while I try them on.”

Hannah groaned. Andrea wasn’t exactly speedy when it came to trying on clothes. On the other hand, Claire would be delighted at the prospect of a big sale, so she might be more forthcoming about answering questions.

“How long are you free for?”

“Until one-thirty,” Hannah answered, trying not to wince at her sister’s sentence structure. When they were still in high school, she’d tried to break Andrea’s habit of tacking on a final preposition, but her grammar lessons hadn’t had any appreciable effect.

“Then you’ve got a couple of hours. When we’re through at Claire’s, let’s run out to Rhonda’s apartment building and interview her neighbors. I checked the mailboxes and almost everyone’s retired. They should be home in the middle of the day.”

“Okay,” Hannah agreed. Interviewing Rhonda’s neighbors wouldn’t be at all dangerous and Andrea was good with people.

“When we get through, I’ll help you with your catering. I can pour coffee while you do the rest.”

Hannah smiled. Catering was always easier with two people. “All right, but it’s only fair to warn you.”

“Warn me about what?”

“My first job is at Trudi’s Fabrics.”

“What’s wrong with that? I like Trudi Schuman.”

“So do I, but she’s hosting a Lake Eden Quilting Society meeting and your mother-in-law will be there.”

“Oh.” Andrea rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. She didn’t get along well with Regina Todd. Bill’s mother was constantly complaining that Andrea should quit her job and be a stay-at-home mother and wife. “It should be all right, Hannah. I’ll wear one of my new maternity outfits and that’ll win her over. She’s crazy about Tracey, but she really wants a grandson.”

“All right, if you can handle it.” Hannah pushed away a mental picture of Regina haranguing Andrea about quitting her job and Andrea spilling scalding coffee on Regina’s hand. “It shouldn’t take more than a half hour. When we’re through, I’ll drop you back here and load up for my three o’clock.”

“Where’s that one?”

Hannah was so pleased by Andrea’s question, she almost forgot to answer. Were her years of correcting her sister’s grammar finally paying off? Or had Andrea merely forgotten to add the final, unnecessary at? “It’s in the library at the community center. Marge Beeseman is holding her monthly Friends of the Library meeting.”

“I’ll help you with that. Tracey needs a new book and I have to stop by the library anyway. She didn’t like the last one Bill read to her out of.”

Cinnamon Crisps

Preheat oven to 325 degrees F.,
with rack in middle position.

2 cups melted butter (4 sticks)

2 cups brown sugar (loosely packed)

1 cup white sugar (granulated)

2 beaten eggs (just whip them up with a fork)

2 teaspoons vanilla

1 teaspoon cinnamon

1 teaspoon baking soda

1 teaspoon cream of tartar (critical!)

1 teaspoon salt

4¼ cups white flour (not sifted)

Dough-ball rolling mixture:

½ cup white sugar

1 teaspoon cinnamon

Melt the butter. Add the sugars and mix. Let the mixture cool to room temperature while you beat the eggs, and then stir them in. Add the vanilla, cinnamon, baking soda, cream of tartar, and salt. Mix well. Add flour in increments, mixing after each addition.

Use your hands to roll the dough into walnut-sized balls. (If dough is too sticky, chill for an hour before rolling.)

Combine the sugar and cinnamon in a small bowl to make the dough-ball rolling mixture. (Mixing it with a fork works nicely.) Roll the dough balls in the mixture, then place them on a greased cookie sheet, 12 to a standard sheet. Flatten the dough balls with a greased or floured spatula.

Bake at 325 degrees F. for 10–15 minutes. (They should have a touch of gold around the edges.) Cool on the cookie sheet for 2 minutes, then remove the cookies to a rack to finish cooling.

Yield: Approximately 8 dozen, depending on cookie size.

(Lisa loves these cookies—it’s the only time I’ve seen her eat a half-dozen of anything at one sitting.)

Chapter
Eleven

“I didn’t expect you this soon, Andrea.” Claire looked surprised as she opened the door of her dress shop and let them into the back room. The space wasn’t very deep, only about six feet, but it ran the entire width of the building and was crowded with racks of clothing, unassembled Beau Monde dress boxes, Claire’s small desk, and her ever-present ironing board and sewing machine. “I just left a message for you at home and it couldn’t have been more than ten minutes ago. How did you get here so fast?”

“I was already next door. I retrieved your message from my cell phone, and since Hannah wanted to come over here anyway, I tagged along. I know you’re not open yet. If I’m too early, I can always come back later.”

“You’re not too early. I’m just glad I pressed your maternity outfits first.” Claire ran a hand over her sleek hair and looked slightly embarrassed. “I’ve been unpacking my new shipment and I planned to change my clothes before I opened.”

Hannah let her sister say all the right things to ease Claire’s embarrassment. She didn’t think it was possible for Claire to look rumpled, even in the slacks and casual cotton blouse she was wearing. Andrea and Claire were two of a kind, the type of women who could wear gunnysacks with house slippers and still generate admiring glances.

“I love this color,” Andrea said, reaching out to touch a lavender silk suit hanging on the rack of clothing that Claire had indicated. “Do you think it’s too Easter-ish?”

Hannah set her bag of cookies by the coffeepot and tuned out as Claire and Andrea began to discuss colors and their association with various holidays and seasons. Fashion wasn’t one of her interests. Instead, she mentally reviewed the questions she wanted to ask. Of course she’d find out about the pies, but Claire might have some other useful information. As Andrea was fond of saying, everybody who was anybody in Lake Eden bought designer clothes at Beau Monde. While the stores at the Tri-County Mall might be less expensive, Claire provided the personal touch that pampered women everywhere craved. Her customers often arrived in pairs and while they were trying on clothes, they gossiped. It was possible that Claire might have overheard something about Rhonda’s private life.

“How about this, Hannah?” Andrea asked, holding up a maternity top.

“You’re asking me a fashion question?” Hannah laughed.

“Second thought, I’ll just try it on.” Andrea exchanged a grin with her sister and then she turned to Claire. “If you don’t mind, I’ll try all of them on.”

“I don’t mind at all.”

Claire gathered the hangers and led Andrea toward the dressing rooms, leaving Hannah to fend for herself. It wasn’t for long. Claire was back before Hannah even had time to walk over to the racks to look at the new shipment.

“Your sister’s all set,” Claire said, heading toward the small coffee machine she kept next to the sink. “I just put on a fresh pot of coffee. Would you like a cup?”

“Sure,” Hannah said, even though Claire’s coffee was nothing to write home about. Conversation over coffee tended to be candid and invited confidences. “I brought you a half-dozen cookies.”

“Thanks, Hannah. What kind are they?”

“Chocolate Chip Crunch.”

“Oh, good. I could use a pick-me-up. I’ve been pressing out wrinkles since eight. Take my desk chair and I’ll get the coffee. How about one of your own cookies?”

“No, thanks.”

Claire poured two cups of coffee while Hannah sat down. She carried one to the desk, set it neatly on a coaster, and then perched on a stool with her coffee in one hand and a cookie in the other. “You’ve lost weight.”

“Do you think so?” Hannah felt a swell of pride. Claire studied everyone’s appearance. If she thought Hannah had lost weight, it was probably true.

“I make it my business to notice things like that. If one of my ladies comes in and she’s gained weight, I need to substitute a larger size without commenting on it.”

“And you can tell that by just looking at her?”

“Of course. I have a very discerning eye.”

Hannah was thoughtful. Claire’s discerning eye might provide a way for her to avoid the dreaded scale. “Can you tell me how much weight I’ve lost?”

“I’d say about three pounds. Your face is thinner and I think you dropped a bit from your upper arms.”

“Wonderful,” Hannah said, disappointment setting in. She wasn’t trying to lose weight on her face or her upper arms. It was her waist and her hips that concerned her.

“Andrea said you wanted to ask me something?”

“I do.” Hannah relegated weight-loss thoughts to the back corner of her mind. “Lisa said you bought three lemon pies last Friday. I was wondering if Rhonda ended up with one of them.”

Claire’s eyes widened in surprise. “That’s right! How did you know that?”

“Just a lucky guess.”

“Are you working on Rhonda’s murder investigation?”

“Yes. And I already told Mike, so it’s no secret this time. Do you know anything personal about Rhonda that might have given someone a motive to kill her?”

Claire sipped her coffee and thought for a moment. “I don’t think so, but I did hear some rumors last year. Someone said that Rhonda had a boyfriend, but no one seemed to know anything about him.”

“I’ve heard that. Any guesses?”

Claire shook her head. “No name was ever mentioned.”

“Anything else about Rhonda’s personal life?”

Claire thought for a moment and then she shrugged. “Not much. Most of my customers seemed to think that Rhonda was a little silly, wearing all that makeup, and dressing young, and flirting with every man who walked up to her cosmetic counter to buy perfume for his wife. But no one took it seriously and I don’t think anyone ever harbored her any ill will.”

“Okay. Let’s get back to the pie. Did Rhonda give you the money and ask you to pick it up for her? Or did she just freeload one of yours?”

“She freeloaded one of mine,” Claire said with a chuckle. “She came in here on Friday afternoon and bought some outfits for her trip. The pie boxes were stacked on my counter. She noticed them when I rang up her purchases.”

“And she mentioned that lemon was her favorite so you almost had to give her one?”

“That’s exactly how it happened. She spent over six hundred dollars and I figured the least I could do was give her a pie.”

Hannah preened a bit. Her scenario had been correct. “I’m curious, Claire. What were you going to do with three pies anyway?”

The color began to rise in Claire’s cheeks. She looked as guilty as a kid caught going through the lunch line twice. “If I tell you, will you keep it to yourself?”

“Yes, if it doesn’t have anything to do with Rhonda’s murder.”

“It doesn’t. You heard that our church is trying to raise the money for new hymnals, didn’t you?”

Hannah had heard about the hymnal fund the last time she’d catered a Redeemer Lutheran board meeting.

“We had a meeting two Sundays ago to discuss fund-raising ideas. I suggested holding a weekly bake sale on Saturday mornings.”

“I bet they roped you into organizing it,” Hannah guessed, knowing how local church politics worked.

“You’re right. They nominated me and I couldn’t say no, since it was my idea in the first place. And of course I had to contribute something, but I don’t bake.”

“So you bought three of my pies to take to the bake sale?”

“Exactly. I repackaged the two I had left and I didn’t exactly say I’d baked them, but I didn’t say I hadn’t, either. Do you think that’s cheating?”

“Maybe technically, but it was for a good cause and I don’t mind. How much did they sell for?”

“Ten dollars apiece. The bake sale was a huge success, Hannah. Bob was very impressed.”

“Bob who?” Hannah asked. It was a fairly common name in Lake Eden, and she knew at least a dozen local Bobs.

“Reverend Knudson. He asked me to call him Bob.”

Hannah watched the color come up on Claire’s cheeks again and one possible explanation occurred to her. Claire had broken off her long-standing affair with Mayor Bascomb last winter. As far as Hannah knew, Claire hadn’t dipped her toe into the dating pool again, but the pink rising in her cheeks was a dead giveaway. Unless Hannah missed her guess, something new was going on in Claire’s love life. “Hold on a second, Claire. Are you dating Reverend Knudson?”

“Not exactly. But we’re really good friends and I just adore his grandmother.”

A tactless question popped into Hannah’s mind and she asked it before she could stop herself. “But don’t you find him boring after all that time with the mayor?”

“No, not at all. You wouldn’t think Bob was boring if you knew him as well as I do. He has a wonderful sense of humor.”

Hannah hoped she didn’t look as dubious as she felt. Reverend Knudson’s sermons about the wages of sin hadn’t seemed the least bit humorous to her. Of course, the subject matter didn’t leave a whole lot of room for jokes.

“Before you ask, Bob knows all about my affair with the mayor,” Claire interrupted Hannah’s thoughts. “I told him myself.”

“What did he say?” Hannah held her breath. Reverend Knudson had never struck her as the liberal type.

“He said it wasn’t important and I shouldn’t worry about it.”

Hannah blinked. “Reverend Knudson said an affair wasn’t important?”

“That’s right. He’s not as strict and proper as you think he is, Hannah. Bob’s really a lot of fun once you get him out of his clerical garb.” Hannah’s eyebrows shot up at that turn of phrase and Claire started to giggle. She sounded giddy, like a teenage girl, and her eyes sparkled with pure laughter. “I didn’t mean it that way!”

Hannah and Claire were still laughing when Andrea appeared in the doorway, wearing one of the outfits. It was a dark green cotton dress with large gold sunflowers scattered over it. “I’m taking them all, Claire. And I’m wearing this.”

“I’m so glad you like them.” Claire looked pleased. “That dress is wonderful with your coloring.”

“I think so, too. I’m helping Hannah with her catering this afternoon and I need to look my best.” Andrea turned to Hannah. “Why don’t you pick out something else to wear, Hannah? I’ll even pay for it. Our greens clash.”

Hannah felt herself climb firmly on the defensive. It was the old Queen-of-the-Hill battle they’d played countless times before. “You pick out something else. I was wearing my green first.”

“But yours is at least two years old and mine is new. New takes precedence over old.”

Hannah shook her head. “My green stays. The caterer takes precedence over the assistant.”

The two sisters locked eyes, four orbs burning with equal intensity. But after a moment, what would have led to a pitched battle in the past suddenly dissolved into laughter.

“I’m sorry, Hannah,” Andrea said through a volley of chuckles. “You’re the caterer. You win.”

“No, you’re the one who’s pregnant and facing your dragon of a mother-in-law. You win.”

“Really?” Andrea’s smile was as radiant as the sun after a sudden downpour. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, and you don’t even have to buy me a new outfit. I’ll just put it on my almost-maxed-out credit card.”

Ten minutes later and eighty dollars poorer despite the huge discount Claire had given her, Hannah walked out of Claire’s shop. She was wearing her new outfit and it was in her very favorite color, one she’d always despaired of being able to wear. It was a summer-weight skirt and jacket in an odd shade of red that miraculously failed to clash with her hair. Claire had chosen the outfit from her new shipment and it had been worth every penny Hannah had spent. She felt svelte and gorgeous.

“I’ll drive to Rhonda’s apartment building,” Andrea said, hurrying to keep up with Hannah’s longer stride as they walked across the parking lot toward the back door of The Cookie Jar. “You don’t have a hook in the back of your truck and I want to hang my new outfits so they won’t wrinkle.”

“Okay.” Hannah opened the door, walked through the kitchen, and stashed her old pantsuit in the small cubicle that the owner called a bathroom. “Let’s go. I have to be back here by one-thirty.”

“No problem.” Andrea led the way through the coffee shop and out to her car. She opened her car doors with a click and slid under the wheel while Hannah got into the passenger’s seat. “I thought you were going to give me a hard time about wanting to drive.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because I drive too fast and I don’t keep my eyes on the road.”

“That’s true,” Hannah said, reaching for her seat belt and buckling it. “It’s a source of wonder to me that you haven’t had an accident.”

Andrea started her engine and pulled out into the street. “If I’m that bad, why are you letting me drive?”

“I’m an eternal optimist. I keep hoping you’ll get better.”

Andrea considered that a moment, then shook her head. “I don’t believe it. There’s some other reason you want me to drive. Come on, Hannah. Tell me what it is.”

“You’re my sister and you deserve another chance?”

“No way.”

Hannah sighed. Andrea was persistent. She’d get it out of her sooner or later. “I love your air conditioning. Mine isn’t working right.”

“I knew there was something!”

Hannah glanced out the windshield and pushed her foot against a nonexistent brake pedal. “Slow down, Andrea. That light’s turning.”

“I’ve got plenty of time,” Andrea argued, whizzing through the intersection. “See? I told you. It was yellow almost all the way through.”

“Tell me when we get there.” Hannah leaned back against the leather seats, reminded herself again that Andrea had never been involved in an accident, and shut her eyes. It was the coward’s way out, but she knew she’d feel a lot safer if she didn’t watch.

Chapter
Twelve

I t was noon by the time they finished canvassing Rhonda’s neighbors and Hannah was depressed. They hadn’t learned anything of value, but that wasn’t the cause of her depression. Not every lead in a murder investigation panned out and she knew it.

“Are you upset that nobody saw Rhonda leave?” Andrea asked, noticing Hannah’s dejected expression as they walked down the sidewalk and headed toward her car.

“No.”

“Then what’s the matter?”

“Nothing.”

Andrea stopped and put her hands on her hips. “There’s something wrong when your sister looks like she just lost her best friend. Now tell me what it is.”

“I thought I looked good in my new outfit.”

“You do.”

“Then why did all Rhonda’s neighbors tell you that you looked adorable, and then say, And you look very nice too, Hannah.”

“That’s because I’m wearing maternity clothes. You know how people treat you when you’re pregnant.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Well I do. I’ve been through it before.” Andrea unlocked the doors to her car and climbed in. She waited until Hannah had buckled her seat belt before explaining, “Pregnant women look like blimps. It’s a fact of life. Rhonda’s neighbors were just saying I looked nice to make me feel better.”

Hannah knew that Andrea was trying to spare her feelings. She appreciated the effort, but it wasn’t working. Usually Hannah didn’t mind when people complimented Andrea lavishly and then threw her a bone to be polite. Today it had gotten to her. It was a rerun of high school and the comments their teachers and friends had made when they saw tall, gangly Hannah with beautiful and dainty Andrea.

“You’re taking things too personally,” Andrea chided her gently. “I think it’s because you’re on a diet. That’ll get anyone’s spirits down.”

Hannah realized that Andrea was right. “I hate it when you’re more mature than I am.”

“So do I. Being mature isn’t what it’s cracked up to be.” Andrea started the car and pulled out from the curb. “Is there anywhere else you want to go? We’ve got almost two hours before we cater.”

“Let’s go out to the Quick Stop.”

“Why?” Andrea asked.

“I want to pick up a toy for Suzie Hanks, and then I thought we could drive out to see Luanne’s mother. Norman found out that she cleaned the Voelker place for Rhonda.”

“She could know something,” Andrea mused. “Cleaning ladies notice all sorts of things. But we don’t have to go out to the Quick Stop first. My place is closer and I’ve got a whole bag full of toys I picked out for Suzie.”

“Tracey’s things?” Hannah asked, knowing that Andrea had given Suzie cartons of clothing and toys that Tracey had outgrown in the past.

“No, they’re new. The toy store at the mall had a huge sale last month.”

“If they’re new toys, you’d better have some sort of excuse for giving them to Suzie. You know how Luanne and her mother are about accepting anything they think is charity.”

“You’re right. I’ll say they were Tracey’s. After all, they could have been hers. She had so many toddler toys she didn’t even get a chance to play with them all.”

“You’re devious, Andrea.” Hannah turned to smile at her sister. “And you’re generous, too. I’m really proud to be your sister.”

“Thanks, but I’m not that devious, at least not more than any other real estate professional. And I’m proud of you, too.”

“All this for Suzie?” Marjorie Hanks gasped as she looked inside the shopping bag Andrea and Hannah had toted into her small cabin. She was a short but compact woman in her fifties with dark brown hair and hazel eyes. “Are you sure Tracey can’t use any of these?”

“She cleaned out her closet herself,” Andrea said, pulling out a pink velvet teddy bear dressed in fake fur with a string of fake pearls around its neck. “Tracey especially wanted Suzie to have this. You know how girls are when they reach a certain age. She thinks pink is too young for her.”

Marjorie picked up the bear and stroked its soft fur. “Suzie will love it. I’ll give it to her the minute she wakes up from her nap. But isn’t this one of those new bears like they have in the toy store out at the mall?”

“It can’t be,” Andrea stated with what sounded like complete sincerity, “unless they reissued them, or something like that. One of my friends gave it to Tracey for a christening gift.”

Hannah figured it was time to step in before Andrea dug an even deeper hole. “I need to ask you about Rhonda, Mrs. Hanks. I’m investigating her murder and Norman told me that you cleaned the Voelker place for her.”

“That’s right. I did. I’m sorry the job’s over. It was one of the best I ever had.”

“But wasn’t it a lot of work?” Andrea asked, jumping in to help with the questioning.

“The only hard part was the first day. Rhonda warned me that her great-aunt had been in a wheelchair since nineteen-eighty, and she said the place was a real mess. It sure was! That companion Mrs. Voelker had living with her didn’t do much in the way of cleaning.”

“It must have taken you a long time to whip it into shape,” Hannah commented.

“Not that long. All I had to clean was the ground floor. Rhonda said the attic was bare and the basement could stay the way it was. And I had Freddy and Jed to help me. They were out there doing some other work for Rhonda and they hauled out all the heavy trash bags.”

“What sort of work were they doing?” Hannah was curious.

“Handyman things. They did a real good job replacing some of the glass in the windows.”

Andrea nodded and returned to her first line of inquiry. “But the place wasn’t hard to keep up once you’d cleaned it the first time?”

“Heavens no! All I had to do was dust and vacuum and that was it…except for the bedroom.”

“The bedroom?” Hannah’s interest rose. “What did you have to do in there?”

“Dust and vacuum, clean the bathroom, and change the sheets on the bed. I know Rhonda had her own place in town, but she stayed out there some nights. Now I don’t want you to repeat this to a soul, but I think Rhonda had overnight company, if you know what I mean. There were always at least four dirty towels on the floor and once I found a razor in the wastebasket. It was right on top of one of those little travel bottles of aftershave.”

“What kind of razor was it?” Hannah asked, hoping for something distinctive that she could track down.

“Just one of those blue disposable kind you can buy a dozen to a bag at CostMart.”

“How about the aftershave? Do you remember the brand?”

“Sure do. It was Old Spice and I almost kept the bottle because it was kind of cute. Suzie loves to pick dandelions and I was thinking I could use it for a little vase on her table.” Marjorie paused for a moment and then she frowned. “Is it important?”

“It could be,” Hannah told her. “If we had it, the crime lab could dust for fingerprints. The man who spent the night with Rhonda might be able to tell us something about her murder.”

Marjorie shivered slightly. “Or he could’ve killed her. Now I wish I’d saved the bottle and the razor, too. They’d be evidence. But I just tossed them into a garbage bag and carried it out to the trash can.”

Hannah frowned slightly. She’d unwittingly sent evidence off to the dump and so had Marjorie Hanks.

“Don’t worry about it,” Andrea jumped in. “Hannah can catch Rhonda’s killer without those things.”

Hannah turned to give her sister a startled glance. Either Andrea was just attempting to make Mrs. Hanks feel better, or she really had confidence in Hannah’s abilities. Unfortunately, Hannah didn’t feel all that confident. With the exception of the fact that they now knew Rhonda’s boyfriend was real and not just gossip, they were still back at square one.

“Thanks, Mrs. Hanks. You’ve helped a lot.” Hannah put on her brightest smile. “Norman told me he hired you to clean his office. I’m really glad you got a new job.”

“So am I. Doctor Rhodes said he’d pay top dollar, and he promised us a discount anytime we need our teeth fixed. He even said he’d hire me to clean that new house he’s building for you.”

“It’s not for me,” Hannah corrected her. “It’ll be Norman’s house, not mine.”

Marjorie shrugged. “Whatever. I’m willing to bet you’ll change your tune by the time it’s ready. You can’t find a nicer man than Doctor Rhodes.”

There was nothing Hannah could say to argue with that, so she kept mum. She did, however, shoot her sister an entreating look and Andrea took over the conversation. After they’d discussed how bright Suzie was and how she was already learning her numbers, Hannah and Andrea headed back the way they’d come on Old Bailey Road.

“That was good, wasn’t it?” Andrea asked, zipping out to the highway and driving toward town. “I mean, we learned something.”

“Yes. We already suspected that Rhonda had a boyfriend, but now we know it for sure.”

“Because of the aftershave?” Andrea asked, pulling out to pass a truck loaded with lumber.

Hannah reached down to make sure her seat belt was fastened securely. “Unless Rhonda preferred the scent of Old Spice to all the expensive perfumes she sold down at the drugstore, there’s a man in the picture.”

After Hannah loaded up the last box of cookies, Andrea glanced down at her watch. “We’ve still got twenty minutes and I really don’t want to get there early. Could we run next door to Granny’s Attic? Mother said Luanne found an antique rosewood cradle at an estate sale last weekend. She thinks it would be perfect for the new baby.”

“Good idea. I want to check with Mother and Carrie anyway. They were going to ask around and try to find out who Rhonda’s boyfriend was.”

Hannah locked up her truck and the sisters walked across the parking lot to their mother’s shop. The back door was unlocked for the convenience of customers who parked in the rear, and they made their way past boxed acquisitions and some pieces of old furniture.

“Norman’s right. They need more storage space,” Hannah muttered as she came perilously close to tripping over a three-legged table.

“I know. They’ve got things stacked up to the ceiling back here. I told Mother I’d look around for a garage they could rent.”

“Hello, dears!” Delores called out when she spotted them. “Go take a look at that cradle, Andrea. It’s right next to the curved highboy with the leaded-glass doors on the east wall.”

“Any news about Rhonda’s boyfriend?” Hannah asked, joining her mother and Carrie at the counter.

“I’m afraid not.” Delores frowned slightly. “We called everyone we could think of, but we still don’t have a name.”

“We did find out one thing,” Carrie said, smiling slightly.

“What’s that?”

“Rhonda got a little tipsy at the Goetz’s New Year’s Eve party. She told Geraldine that she was seeing someone, but she couldn’t marry him.”

Hannah added this to her small store of personal facts about Rhonda. “Did Rhonda say why?”

“Geraldine asked her, but she just said that there’d have to be a funeral first.”

“A funeral?”

“Your mother and I think he was married and that was Rhonda’s way of saying that he wouldn’t divorce his wife.”

Hannah thought about that for a moment. “You could be right.”

“We did find out another interesting thing,” Delores said, lowering her voice even though there were no other customers in Granny’s Attic. “Bridget Murphy threatened Cyril last night.”

Hannah had to work to keep her mouth from dropping open. Bridget Murphy was one of the sweetest, gentlest women in Lake Eden and there’d never been a hint of trouble in her marriage to Cyril. “You mean…with a weapon?”

“Of course not. Remember that car he gave her for her birthday? Well, it’s broken down three times. Bridget told Cyril that if he didn’t fix it right this time, she’d paint a giant lemon on it and tow it down Main Street at the tag end of the parade.”

It was four o’clock when Hannah let herself in through the back door of The Cookie Jar. Her two catering jobs had gone well, and Andrea’s new maternity outfit had totally tamed her mother-in-law. Their only private conversation had been about which color quilt Andrea would prefer for the nursery.

“Hi, Lisa.” Hannah stepped into the coffee shop, joining Lisa behind the counter. “Do you need a break?”

“No, I’m fine. We had a big rush around three, but it’s slowing down now. Mike was in earlier, looking for you.”

Hannah sighed. “I was afraid I’d miss him.”

“He said not to worry, that he was pretty tied up, but he’d call you before you left for the day. Did you see Jed when you came through the kitchen?”

Hannah shook her head. “No. I just set down my purse and came straight in here.”

“Well, he wants to talk to you. He sent Freddy in about twenty minutes ago to say they were almost through in the pantry. I think he was looking to get paid for the day.”

“Okay. I’ll pay them and then I’ll start mixing up the dough for tomorrow.”

Hannah greeted a few regular customers before going back to the kitchen. The new pantry shelves were all up. Jed was just tightening the last screw. “Hi, guys. That looks nice.”

“Thanks. Come in for a second, Hannah. I want to show you an improvement we made.” Jed waited until Hannah had stepped inside the pantry, then pointed to the small, rectangular space between the inside of the door and the wall. “This spot isn’t big enough for shelves, so we made you a pocket rack as a thank-you for giving us the work.”

Hannah eyed the structure Jed had called a pocket rack with interest. It consisted of a long narrow board painted the same color as the wall with see-through pockets made out of wire mesh.

“It’s for small things that might get pushed behind bigger things on the shelves. They won’t drop out because of the mesh, but you can see at a glance what’s in there.”

Hannah was pleased. She was always looking for the leftover nuts she’d chopped, or almost-empty bags of chocolate chips and marshmallows. “That’s very clever. Where did you get the idea?”

“From the last industrial kitchen I worked in. If there was a space that was too small for a shelf, it had a pocket rack.”

“It’ll come in really handy. Thanks for thinking of it, Jed.” Hannah led the way out of the pantry and retrieved her purse to pay them. She was just counting out the money when she realized what Jed had said. “You said you worked in a kitchen. Were you a cook?”

“No, I was on the maintenance crew and I learned all about kitchen appliances. If something in your kitchen breaks down, I can probably fix it.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Hannah slipped their pay into envelopes and handed one to Freddy and the other to Jed. “Thank you for my new pocket rack. Both of you did a wonderful job.”

Freddy took his envelope and gave Hannah a big smile. “Thanks, Hannah. Betcha didn’t know that Jed used to work in the joint.”

“The joint?” Hannah frowned slightly as she turned to Jed. “Was that the name of the restaurant?”

“No, it really was the joint. That’s what Freddy calls prison.”

Freddy looked embarrassed. “I’m sorry, Jed. I forgot I wasn’t supposed to tell.”

“It’s okay to tell Hannah, but some people might get the wrong idea.” Jed turned back to Hannah to explain. “I was a civilian worker, not a prisoner.”

Hannah nodded, but she wondered if Jed was telling the truth. Most people who’d been in prison would go to any length to hide it. “Did you work there long?”

“Just for a couple of months until I saved enough money to move on. There was one good thing about the job, though. They gave the maintenance crew some kind of retroactive raise and I got a big check in the mail today. Right after we’re through here, we’re going down to Cyril Murphy’s car lot with that old car that belonged to Freddy’s mother to trade it in on a pickup truck.”

“But doesn’t that car belong to Freddy now?”

“Sure, but he can’t drive anyway, and it was a wreck before I got it running again. It’s still no great shakes. I have to park it on top of a hill.”

“A hill?”

“I replaced the starter, but it still doesn’t work right. Half the time, we have to roll it down the hill in first gear to start it. Besides, Freddy wants to ride in a truck.”

“You betcha!” Freddy gave Hannah a big smile. “I’d really like for us to have a truck. Jed says the girls really like guys who have trucks.”

Hannah was thoughtful as Freddy and Jed gathered up their things and left. She didn’t really believe Jed’s story about being a civilian worker at the prison and she intended to check on it. She also didn’t like the new attitude she saw in Freddy. As far as she knew, he’d never been interested in girls before. Jed might have good intentions, but he was teaching Freddy some things that could lead to trouble down the road.

Hannah glanced at the clock as she hung her apron on a hook. “That’s it, Lisa. Take the rest of those Oatmeal Raisin Crisps for your dad and go home. It’s past six-thirty.”

“Okay. You won’t get any argument from me.” Lisa finished stashing the last bowl of dough in their walk-in cooler, and hung up her apron next to Hannah’s. “Are you going to stick around for Mike’s call?”

“For a while. Then I’ll go home. He knows the number.”

“See you tomorrow then,” Lisa said, picking up the half-dozen leftover cookies and heading for the door.

After Lisa left, Hannah did a check of their stock in the pantry, made out the order that had to be placed the next day, and got ready to leave. It was almost seven-thirty. It was unlikely that Mike would call this late. She had just picked up her purse and was heading out the door when the phone rang. Hannah stopped in her tracks and stared at the phone, wishing that it could tell her who was on the other end of its line.

Should she? Or shouldn’t she? Rather than debate that question any further, Hannah rushed across the kitchen to answer. If it was Delores, she could always think of an excuse to cut the call short. “Hello?”

“Hi, Hannah.” There was an apologetic tone in Mike’s voice. “I’m sorry I didn’t get back to you, but I’ve been tied up. Do you have plans for dinner?”

“Tonight?”

“Yes. I thought we could go out to a nice dinner and talk about Rhonda. I’ll even let you pick the place.”

“It’s a deal,” Hannah said, realizing that she could kill three birds with one stone. “Could we go to Alfredo’s Ristorante? And could you take me to the Quick Stop after dinner so that I can meet Michelle’s bus? And then could you drive her out to Mother’s lake cottage?”

“No problem. I’ll make the reservations if you tell me what time.”

Hannah glanced up at the clock and figured out the logistics. It was seventy-thirty on the nose, so traffic would be light. It would take her fifteen minutes to get home and two minutes to pour some kitty crunchies into Moishe’s bowl. That was a total of seventeen minutes. She didn’t need time to dress because the outfit she was wearing was perfect for dinner out. She’d need another three minutes to wash her face, brush her teeth, and comb her hair, and she’d tack on an extra ten minutes just to be on the safe side. “Make our reservations for eight-thirty and pick me up at my condo at eight.”

“You can drive home and get ready to go out in half an hour?”

Hannah started to grin. Mike had sounded shocked. “Of course I can.”

“But most women take longer than that to get ready for a date.”

“I’m not most women. I’ll be ready when you get there. Just buzz me and I’ll walk out to the road to meet you.”

Chapter
Thirteen

H annah glanced at the clock as she refilled Moishe’s food bowl. It was ten minutes to eight. Her face was washed, her teeth were brushed, and her hair was secured in the clasp that Michelle had sent her last year from the Macalester College Arts Fair. She’d even taken time to spritz on a little perfume from the bottle her college roommate had given her. She was ready and she had ten minutes to kill before Mike buzzed her from the gate.

There was a yowl from the direction of the food bowl and Hannah turned toward her resident feline. “Don’t worry. Mike’s just taking me out to dinner, and then we’re going to pick up Michelle at the bus stop.”

That seemed to satisfy Moishe because he lowered his head to his food bowl again and didn’t look up as Hannah sat down at the kitchen table with her steno pad.

Five minutes passed in relative silence, if one didn’t count Hannah’s sighs as she went over her notes on Rhonda’s murder and the sound of Moishe’s dinnertime crunching. She really hadn’t learned much so far. She knew that Claire had given Rhonda the lemon pie. At least that mystery was solved. And she’d find out tonight if the takeout osso buco had come from Alfredo’s Ristorante. If luck was with her, Rhonda’s boyfriend had picked up the takeout and someone would remember him. If not, she’d just have to dig deeper to uncover his identity.

Learning that Rhonda really had a boyfriend had given Hannah several new motives to explore. If the man was married, as Carrie and Delores suspected, his wife could have murdered Rhonda in a fit of jealousy. She’d have to be a strong woman. Digging a grave for the “other woman” in the earthen floor of the basement furnace room would have taken some muscle.

One by one, other motives and possibilities occurred to Hannah and she jotted them down. If Rhonda’s affair had led to the breakup of a marriage, anyone involved, even a teenager, could have retaliated by killing the woman who’d led his or her dad astray. It was a little far-fetched, but not impossible that several siblings had banded together to get rid of their mother’s rival.

There was also Rhonda’s big mouth to consider, especially if her gossiping had really hurt someone. Carrie and Delores could check out that possibility for her.

Then there was Rhonda’s job at the drugstore. If Rhonda had been instrumental in getting a coworker fired, that person could have taken revenge. She’d run down to Lake Eden Neighborhood Drugs tomorrow to check with Jon Walker, the pharmacist and owner.

The buzzer by the phone sounded and Hannah pressed the switch that opened the wooden arm at the gate. She said good-bye to Moishe, topped off his food bowl for the final time, grabbed her notebook, and went out the door. It was a beautiful evening if you ignored the muggy air and the mosquitoes that descended like miniature Draculas on any carelessly exposed patch of skin.

Mike’s car was just rounding the bend and Hannah took the shortcut through the planter. Even though the condo association had forbidden the practice, almost all of the residents took the shortcut instead walking down the much longer winding sidewalk to the street. Use of the shortcut had become so widespread that the association had been forced to cave in and instruct the gardeners to place stepping stones over the path the residents’ shoes had worn.

Mike gave a little toot on his horn as Hannah approached and Hannah raised her hand to wave. That was when she realized that she still held her steno pad in her hand. She shoved it down into the bottom of her shoulder bag. Mike had seemed much more tolerant of her investigation this time around, but flaunting the tangible proof of her detective work would still be a little like waving a red flag.

Hannah smiled happily as she looked around her. Alfredo’s Ristorante was impressive and so was their cuisine. Mike had reserved a table by the window overlooking Eden Lake and while she’d ordered pollo piccata, a boneless chicken breast sautéed with lemon and capers, she’d talked Mike into the osso buco. Just as she’d expected, it had come with a garnish of sliced ripe olives.

“Don’t you want your pasta?” Mike asked, eying the side dish the waitress had placed by Hannah’s entrée.

“Of course I want it, but I can’t have pasta on my diet.”

“Do you mind if I eat it then?”

Hannah shook her head, even though she minded a lot. According to the menu, the pasta was homemade fresh rigatoni tossed with first-press, extra-virgin olive oil and butter, and liberally sprinkled with parmigiano reggiano, the best Parmesan cheese money could buy. She couldn’t have it, but she really didn’t want Mike to eat it. It was the spurned lover’s reaction, If I can’t have you, nobody can. And that was a possibility she hadn’t thought of before. If Rhonda had been involved with two men and she’d made noises about leaving one for the other, the loser could have killed Rhonda rather than let her go. It was one of the reasons why so many love triangles ended in tragedy.

“What are you thinking about?” Mike asked, swallowing the last of her pasta. “You look really intense.”

“Dessert, and how I can’t have any.”

“That’s not it.” Mike shook his head. “You’d look sad if you were thinking about missing dessert. What was it?”

Hannah thought about dissembling, but she couldn’t come up with a likely subject. Perhaps the truth was her best bet. “Actually, I was thinking about Rhonda and how jealousy could make someone mad enough to kill. I figured that Rhonda might have been part of a love triangle.”

“Rhonda was involved with a married man and his wife killed her?”

“Maybe, but I was thinking of another way. If Rhonda was involved with two men, one of them could have killed her rather than let the other one have her.”

Mike thought about that for a moment. “That makes more sense. Doc Knight said a woman could have stabbed Rhonda. It doesn’t take that much force to kill someone with a knife if the blade hits a vital spot. But we’ve got to assume that the person who killed her is the one who dug that grave and that dirt is as hard as concrete. Bill and I tried to dig a hole in the corner and it was tough going.”

“Then how did the killer manage to do it?”

“He used a pickax and then he shoveled it out. We found the tools in the corner of the basement.”

“Were there any prints?”

Mike shook his head. “Not even a partial. The fingerprint guys are sure he wore gloves.”

“How about the murder weapon? Did you recover it?”

“No. We think it was a hunting knife with a long blade, the kind you can buy almost anywhere for field-dressing big game. The killer probably took it with him and ditched it later. Unless we get lucky, we probably won’t find it.”

There was a note of frustration in Mike’s voice and Hannah could understand that. Every hunter in Minnesota had a hunting knife. “How about Rhonda’s apartment? Did you search it?”

“Of course we did, but we didn’t find anything that related to her murder.”

“Was there anything unusual about the autopsy?”

“Not really. Rhonda ate dinner that night and her stomach contents helped Doc narrow down the time of death. Her blood alcohol level showed that she drank almost a whole bottle of red wine with her dinner.”

“Then she was pretty tipsy when she went down the basement stairs?”

“She must have been. Good thing she wasn’t driving. Since her car is still parked at her apartment building, we figure someone must have dropped her off at the Voelker place.”

“Do you know who?”

Mike shook his head. “We spent hours trying to track that down, but we got nowhere. How about you?”

“I got the same place you did.” Hannah felt cheered. Mike wasn’t asking her to back off and he hadn’t even mentioned locking her up to keep her from interfering. “So you’re okay with me doing my own investigation?”

“I’m not happy, but I’m okay with it. Maybe reconciled would be a better word. Just keep out of trouble and tell me if you discover anything you think I should know.”

“Haven’t I always?” Hannah sidestepped any promises. “How about the crime scene? I didn’t really look around that closely. Did you find any clues?”

“Just one. We thought we had a suspect, but it turned out to be nothing.”

Hannah leaned forward. This was the first she’d heard about a suspect. “Who was it?”

“Jed Sawyer. We found an old Minnesota Twins baseball cap in the basement and Bill remembered that he’d seen Jed wearing one just like it. We questioned him, but it turns out Rhonda hired Jed and Freddy to do some handyman work when she was getting ready to sell the Voelker place.”

“That’s true. I heard they fixed some of the windows.”

“That fits with what Jed told us. He says he remembers taking off his cap while he was replacing one of the basement windows and he must have forgotten it down there.”

“And you believe that?”

“It checks out. We took another look at the crime scene photos and the window that Jed said he replaced still had the sticker on the glass.”

“Too bad,” Hannah said with a sigh.

“What’s the matter? Don’t you like Jed?”

“It’s not that I don’t like him. It’s just that…I’m not sure he’s a good influence on Freddy.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s probably nothing.”

Mike gave her a stern look. “Spit it out, Hannah. It’s not like you to beat around the bush.”

“I think Jed’s pushing Freddy too hard and giving him ideas he can’t handle.”

“Like what?”

“Like trading in his mother’s car for a truck and going out to attract girls. Freddy idolizes Jed and he wants his approval. He’ll do anything Jed says and that worries me.” Hannah thought back to her conversation with Jed and that gave her an idea. “Would you check out something for me?”

“Maybe. Does it have anything to do with the murder investigation?”

“No, I’m just curious. Jed said that he worked on the maintenance crew at the prison and he made a point of telling me that he was a civilian worker. I don’t have any reason to think he’s lying, but there’s something about Jed I don’t quite trust.”

“That was my impression. I’ll find out if he was an inmate. Which prison?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t ask. But since he said the prison, instead of a prison, I’m assuming it’s in Minnesota.”

“Okay. I’ll get on it first thing in the morning.”

“Thanks, Mike.” Hannah smiled at him. “Would you excuse me for a minute?”

“Sure. Shall I order you an after-dinner drink?”

“No, thanks. More coffee would be nice, though. I need to keep up my energy level and I’m running about a gallon short.”

Hannah left Mike sitting at the table and headed toward the entrance of the dining room. It was time to check out the restaurant’s takeout menu and see if anyone remembered who’d picked up the containers of osso buco that had landed in Rhonda’s garbage.

The hostess was at her post by the entrance. Hannah put on a friendly smile as she approached. “I notice that you have osso buco on the menu and that’s my mother’s favorite. Does Alfredo’s do takeout?”

“Yes, and we alternate our entrées.” The hostess returned Hannah’s smile. “Osso buco is available every Friday evening from six to eight. You have to call in advance with your order.”

“That’s reasonable. I’ll bet Friday nights are popular for takeout.”

“No, it’s actually our slowest night. Hold on a minute and I’ll show you what I mean.”

Hannah held her smile as the hostess flipped through pages on a clipboard. She was close to getting the information she wanted, but she wasn’t quite there yet.

“Here you go.” The hostess tapped a perfectly manicured nail on the page she’d chosen. “Six orders of osso buco. That’s all we sold last Friday, but I know we ran out in the kitchen. That means most people came out here and ordered it from the menu.”

Hannah was impressed. “Your system is very efficient. You actually keep the names of the people who ordered takeout?”

“We have to. It’s my job to make sure the takeout goes to the proper person at the time they specified. See? Three people ordered takeout, two orders apiece.”

Hannah blessed the fact that she could read upside down. She’d first learned that skill when Andrea was a child and used to sit facing her with a schoolbook. When Andrea had faltered over a word, Hannah had taught herself to read it upside down, so she wouldn’t have to move. And that just went to prove that laziness sometimes paid off.

“Would you like one of our takeout menus?”

“I’d like several.” Hannah accepted the printed menus the hostess gave her. “I’ll call in on Friday and order osso buco for my mother and her friends.”

“Not this Friday. We’re closed for the Fourth.”

“Right,” Hannah said. She’d been so intent on tracking down the takeout dinners, she’d forgotten all about the holiday. “I’ll call in next Friday. Thanks for the information.”

Hannah gave the hostess a parting smile and headed off to the ladies room. Once there, she pulled her steno pad out of her purse and jotted down the names from the takeout list. The first was Ken Purvis, Jordan High’s principal. Hannah really had to stretch her imagination to imagine Ken as Rhonda’s boyfriend. The second was Gil Surma, the high school counselor, and that also seemed impossible. The third name was even more unlikely because it was Reverend Knudson. He wasn’t married, but he lived with his grandmother. Hannah supposed that Rhonda could have been referring to Priscilla Knudson when she’d made her comment about not being able to marry unless there was a funeral. Mrs. Knudson had suffered a stroke only weeks before the Goetz’s New Year’s Eve party and Rhonda’d had no way of knowing she’d completely recover. Finding out which of the three men was involved with Rhonda would take time, but there was a pay phone in the ladies room and there was no time like the present to start narrowing the field.

Bonnie Surma, Gil’s wife, answered on the first ring. Hannah fixed a smile on her face—she’d heard that telemarketers used this technique to sound friendly—and took a deep breath. “Hi, Bonnie. It’s Hannah Swensen. I’m out here at Alfredo’s Ristorante and…”

“Take my advice and order their osso buco,” Bonnie interrupted her. “Gil picked it up for us on Friday night and it was marvelous.”

Hannah’s phony smile turned into a real grin. If Gil had taken osso buco home to Bonnie, he wasn’t Rhonda’s boyfriend.

“Friday was our anniversary and Gil wanted to do something special. I didn’t feel like getting dressed up and going out, so he ordered dinner and brought it home.”

“That was sweet of him,” Hannah said, scrounging for a pen in the bottom of her purse and crossing Gil’s name off her suspect list.

“It would have been sweeter if he hadn’t left for a meeting right after dinner, but even a good marriage can’t be perfection. Gil and I rub along very well together.”

Perfection. Rub along very well. Hannah came close to chuckling. Bonnie must have been at the same Lake Eden Regency Romance Club meeting as Delores.

“Did you need something, Hannah? Gil’s at a city council meeting. He said he’d call before he left for home, so I need to keep the line free.”

“Uh…yes. Yes, I did.” Hannah thought fast. She should have had an excuse for her call all prepared. “Tracey was talking about joining the Brownies the other day. She wanted to know how old she had to be.”

“I’m glad Tracey’s so interested. She’s still too young, but I’ll mail a packet to Andrea tomorrow with the guidelines.”

“Thanks, Bonnie. That’s all I needed. I’ll let you go.” Hannah hung up the phone and let out a relieved sigh. She liked Bonnie and Gil and she was glad that Rhonda hadn’t been a threat to their marriage.

The next name on Hannah’s list was Kenneth Purvis. Hannah had trouble visualizing Jordan High’s principal, a man whose most notable habit was polishing his glasses, in a steamy embrace with Rhonda, but she couldn’t discount the possibility. Ken had picked up two orders of osso buco on Friday night.

Hannah had learned her lesson from Bonnie. She needed a good excuse for her call. When Ken or his wife, Kathy, answered, she’d ask about the community outreach night classes Jordan High was planning to hold in the fall. There had been an article about it last week in the Lake Eden Journal. She could pretend to be interested in signing up for basket weaving, or fly casting, or something like that.

Hannah looked up the number and dialed. The phone rang several times and then their answering machine clicked on. Rather than leave a message, Hannah hung up and turned to the third name on the list, Reverend Knudson.

“Redeemer Lutheran,” Reverend Knudson’s grandmother answered on the second ring.

“Hi, Mrs. Knudson. It’s Hannah Swensen.”

“Hello, Hannah.” Mrs. Knudson sounded pleased to hear from her. “The reverend isn’t home right now, but I can take a message and have him call you in the morning.”

“That’s okay. Maybe you can help. I meant to call earlier, but I forgot. I’m out here at Alfredo’s Ristorante. Have you ever had their osso buco?”

“No, but it’s one of my favorite dishes.”

“Maybe your grandson could pick it up as takeout for you,” Hannah said, hoping to solicit more information. It was obvious that Reverend Knudson hadn’t taken osso buco to his grandmother, but he’d left Alfredo’s last Friday night with two takeout orders. “They have it on their menu every Friday night.”

“You might know it would be Fridays!” Priscilla Knudson gave an exasperated sigh. “The reverend is always gone on Friday nights. Church-related meetings, you know.”

“Of course,” Hannah said, drawing a circle around Reverend Knudson’s name. If he’d gone to a church-related meeting on Friday night, she was willing to bet he hadn’t arrived with two orders of takeout osso buco from Alfredo’s Ristorante.

“You said earlier that you thought I might be able to help you. With what, Hannah?”

Mrs. Knudson’s question brought Hannah back from her speculations and she launched into the excuse she’d prepared. “I heard about the bake sale Redeemer Lutheran is holding on Saturdays and I wanted to contribute something. How about a box of cookies?”

“Why, that would be lovely, Hannah. I’m sure the reverend will be delighted. Can we count on you for this Saturday?”

“Absolutely.”

Hannah smiled as she hung up the phone. A box of free cookies was a small price to pay for the information Priscilla Knudson had given her. She’d eliminated Gil Surma and she had yet to reach Principal Purvis, but Reverend Knudson had just jumped to the top of her suspect list.

Chapter
Fourteen

H annah glanced at her watch in the light from Mike’s dashboard as they came over the crest of a long steep hill and neared the Quick Stop. They still had almost fifteen minutes before Michelle’s bus was due to arrive. “Let’s park on the side and go in. I want to see how my cookies are doing for Sean and Ron.”

Mike pulled into a spot at the side of the building and shut off his engine. “We can go in, but I already know your cookies are selling really well.”

“How do you know that? Did you ask Sean and Ron?”

“I didn’t have to ask. The guys at the station used to stop for doughnuts and coffee on their way to work, but now they bring in coffee and your cookies. Nobody buys doughnuts anymore.”

“Thanks for telling me.” Hannah was pleased. She’d started to supply the Quick Stop with cookies several months ago and the volume of their orders had been steadily increasing. That was a good sign, but she hadn’t been sure if Sean and Ron were selling more cookies, or just eating more of them.

“You can go in if you want to.” Mike turned to smile at her. “I’ll stay here and meet Michelle if her bus comes in early.”

Hannah laughed. “Thanks, but that won’t work.”

“Why not?”

“You’ve never met Michelle. You don’t even know what she looks like.”

“Yes, I do. There’s a picture of the three of you on the mantel over your fireplace. I recognized Andrea and you, so I figured Michelle had to be the one in the middle with the brown hair.”

Hannah was impressed, even though she knew Mike had been trained to notice things. “You’re right, but that’s an old picture. You might not recognize her now.”

“She can’t be that different. Her hair could be another color and she could have gained or lost weight, but her basic bone structure is the same. I’ll spot her. You don’t have to worry about that.”

Hannah began to grin. “I guess any cop who can recognize a suspect from his DMV picture wouldn’t have much trouble with an old family photo.”

“That’s right.” Mike lowered his window, looked out for a moment, and then he turned to grin at her. “It’s a good thing you didn’t go inside. Here comes the bus now.”

Hannah glanced out his window, but all she saw was an empty road. “Where? I don’t see anything.”

“You’ll see it when it comes over the hill.”

“Who do you think you are?” Hannah asked, eyeing him with some amusement. “Supercop with x-ray vision?”

“No, but I might try out for Supercop with subsonic hearing.”

“You heard the bus?”

“That’s right. A diesel engine’s got a certain high-pitched whine to it. On a still night it’ll carry for a long way.”

Hannah stared at him, but he didn’t seem to be putting her on. “Okay, I believe you even though I’ve met the bus lots of times and I never heard a whine.”

“You probably wouldn’t notice.”

“Because it’s a cop thing?”

“No, it’s a trucker thing. My father was an owner-operator and I drove most of his short runs every summer. It gets boring, driving the same route day after day. I looked for ways to amuse myself and I started concentrating on the sounds trucks make. I got so good, I could tell a Peterbilt from a Kenworth a quarter-mile away.”

Hannah had been aware of a low rumbling noise while Mike spoke and it had increased in volume. Her eyes widened as a Greyhound bus crested the hill and began its descent. “You were right. There’s the bus. I hope Michelle’s trip wasn’t too boring.”

“I’m sure she found someone to talk to. She’s a very pretty woman.”

“Girl,” Hannah corrected him. “She’s still a teenager.”

“Just barely. I’ve known a few nineteen-year-olds. They’d much rather be thought of as young women.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Hannah gave him a sharp glance as she climbed out of the car. She wanted to know more about the nineteen-year-olds he’d known, but it wasn’t a good idea to ask. Mike didn’t talk about his past very much and he’d already told her about driving his father’s truck. That was enough for one night.

As they walked, Hannah glanced up at the halogen lights by the bus loading and unloading area. Moths were fluttering around the bulbs in uneven halos, attracted to the hot light despite its danger. As she watched, several fell back down to the pavement and were crushed under the feet of the people who had gathered to meet the bus.

Mike found a spot near the front of the crowd and Hannah stood close to his side. He reached out to take her arm and smiled down at her. “Are you excited about seeing her again?”

“Yes,” Hannah said, smiling back. There were times when she indulged in a bit of nostalgia, remembering how she’d helped Delores soothe Michelle through bouts of colic when she was a baby, carrying her on mile-long treks around the living room until she’d finally gone to sleep.

The bus pulled up with a loud snort and a squeal of brakes, spewing out a black plume of what Hannah now knew was diesel exhaust. There was a moment of expectation while the driver flicked on the interior lights and checked something on his clipboard. Then the door opened with a mechanical hiss and a plump woman in a nurse’s uniform climbed down the steps. She was followed by a man carrying a raincoat, a mother with a baby in her arms, and an older gentleman wearing a straw hat.

There was a long pause as a young man struggled to navigate the steps with a package large enough to contain a tuba. Once he’d successfully disembarked, two teenage girls in jeans and sweaters stepped off the bus.

Hannah began to frown. There was only one more passenger waiting to get off the bus and it wasn’t Michelle. “Oh-oh. I think she missed the bus.”

“No, she didn’t. She’s right there at the top of the stairs.”

Hannah gave the woman a second glance. She had bright green streaks in her hair and a tattoo on her left shoulder, an in-your-face rendition of a coiled snake. She was wearing a shiny gold top that was so tight Hannah could see every breath she took, and her red pants were hip-height at the waist, exposing her navel. As far as Hannah could see there was no one standing behind her waiting to get off. “I don’t see her. Where is she?”

“Right there. With the green hair.”

Hannah took another look. The apparition was still at the top of the stairs and she appeared to be having trouble with one of her gold, high-heeled tennis shoes. The heel was stuck in the metal grating of the step.

“That’s not Michelle,” Hannah said, shaking her head.

“Yes, it is. Watch this.”

Mike stepped closer to wave at the green-haired woman. “Hi, Michelle. Over here!”

The woman’s face lit up in a smile and she waved back. “Hi, Hannah! Just a sec. My shoe’s stuck.”

It was Michelle. Hannah groaned. She knew that college students often followed the newest clothing fads and she’d expected that Michelle might have a slightly different look, but nothing could have prepared her for seeing her baby sister in an outfit that looked like…

“I’ll go help her,” Mike said, interrupting the thoughts that Hannah didn’t want to think anyway. “Don’t worry. It’s probably just some stage she’s going through.”

“Some stage,” Hannah muttered, managing somehow to put a welcoming smile on her face. She averted her eyes as Mike bounded forward, wondering if her mother had grounds to sue the college. She’d check with Howie Levine in the morning. Better yet, she’d call him the moment she got home to her condo.

“Here she is,” Mike announced, arriving at Hannah’s side with Michelle in his arms and her left shoe dangling from his fingers. “I’m going to carry her to the car so she can change shoes. Her luggage is being unloaded right now and there’s only one piece, a pink duffle bag. Can you get it?”

“Sure,” Hannah said brightly, heading off to collect the pink bag. Perhaps the college wouldn’t admit full responsibility. Michelle had lived off campus for a semester. But at the least, they ought to refund the tuition money.

“So. How was your trip?” Hannah asked, after she’d retrieved Michelle’s bag, stashed it in the trunk, and taken her place in the passenger’s seat.

“Exciting. I almost missed the bus.” Michelle grinned at her big sister. “I just wish I’d brought my camera. I’d give anything to have a picture of your face when I got off that bus.”

“You do look…uh…pretty spectacular,” Hannah said, reminding herself that they had an audience and it would be better to wait until they were alone to read Michelle the riot act.

“I wish Mother could see me like this, but I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Probably not,” Hannah said, knowing that she’d just made the understatement of the year. “As far as I know, she doesn’t have heart problems…yet.”

Michelle cracked up and Hannah immediately felt better. At least her sister’s new look hadn’t leached her sense of humor.

“Could we go to your place so I can wash this green stuff out of my hair?”

“It washes out?”

“It’s supposed to. It’s a spray I got from the makeup department. You don’t think I look like this all the time, do you?”

“You don’t?”

“Of course not. I don’t dress like this, either. It’s just that I was in a student play tonight. If I’d taken the time to change out of my costume, I would have missed my bus.”

“You’re wearing a costume!” Hannah exclaimed, beginning to smile. “Mike and I thought it was a new kind of fad. How about the tattoo? Is that real?”

Michelle shook her head. “It’s just one of those press-on things that washes right off with soap and water. If I can use your shower, I’ll be as good as new in less than twenty minutes, I promise.”

“Hannah’s place it is,” Mike said, reaching out to pat Hannah’s hand as he started the car and pulled out of the parking lot. “The tattoo’s impressive. I know a woman who has one just like it.”

“Here in Lake Eden?” Hannah asked, turning to him in absolute shock.

“No, in Minneapolis. I busted her three times when I was a rookie.”

Chapter
Fifteen

H annah took another sip of coffee. Her nerves were jangling with the infusion of even more caffeine than usual, but she had to do something to wake up. They’d stayed out at the cottage with Mother and Michelle until almost one in the morning, and then she’d spent long minutes with Mike at her door, debating about whether or not she should invite him in. One glance at her watch had settled that question. One-thirty was too late, especially for a small-business owner who had to get up at five the next morning to bake. She’d gone inside alone, fed Moishe, and crawled into bed. And this morning, when she’d come into work, she’d found two frantic messages on her answer machine. Both were rush orders that had come in the previous evening. Loretta Richardson had called in a panic. She’d been deluged with unexpected guests for the Fourth and she needed five-dozen Praline Charlottes. The second order had come from Doc Knight, who wanted three pans of Lovely Lemon Bar Cookies for his nurses.

“Hannah?” Lisa pushed the swinging door to the kitchen open and stuck her head in. “Norman’s on the phone and he wants you to meet him down at the clinic at twelve. He says it’s important. Then he wants to take you to the café for lunch.”

Hannah was about to say yes when she remembered that Lisa needed her lunch break. “How about you? Can you wait until one for lunch?”

“No problem. Just bring me back one of Rose’s hamburgers.”

“It’s a deal.” Hannah started to smile. It would be good to see Norman.

“And Mike just came in. He wants to see you.”

“Okay. Will you coffee him and send him back here?”

“Sure. Did you finish the Praline Charlottes for Loretta?”

“Yes, and I’ll deliver them on my way to see Norman.” Hannah gestured toward several boxes she’d stacked on the counter. “I have extras if you want to give them out for samples.”

Lisa shook her head. “They’re too good for samples. I know you’re just using them for catering and advance orders right now, but I think we should add them to the cookie menu.”

“We’ll have to charge a little more. The frosting takes time.”

“People will pay it. They’re delicious, Hannah. I just wish Cousin Charlotte could taste them.”

“I agree, especially since we named them after her. I’ll package up a few and we’ll send them to her by overnight mail.”

Lisa looked happy as she went back out to the coffee shop. Her mother’s cousin, who ran a cleaning service in New Orleans, had sent Lisa a box of pralines for Christmas. Hannah had tasted one and been so impressed, she’d decided to try to make a praline cookie.

Hannah had just finished packaging the cookies when Mike came in with a coffee mug in his hand. “Hi, Hannah. I checked on that little problem we discussed last night.”

“What little problem?”

“Just a second.” Mike walked over to the pantry and glanced through the open door.

For a moment Hannah thought he’d lost his marbles, but then she realized that he wanted to give her his report on Jed’s job at the prison. “Jed and Freddy finished their work for me yesterday. There’s no one here except you and me, and the weevils in the flour.”

“You have bugs in your flour?”

Mike started to frown and Hannah wondered if he was thinking of turning her in to the Health Department. She didn’t think he would, but she knew she’d better correct his misconception in a hurry. “Relax, Mike. I was just kidding. I always store my flour in canisters and tape a bay leaf to the inside of the lid to keep out the weevils.”

“And that works?”

“It’s never failed me. The only other way is to freeze the flour in airtight containers, but I don’t have the freezer space for that.”

“I learn something new every day in this job.” Mike gave her a grin. “Do you want me to tell you about Jed?”

“Please do. Pull up a stool and sit down.”

Mike took the stool across from Hannah and took out his notebook. “I checked when I got to the station this morning. Jed was a civilian worker on the maintenance crew at Stillwater. He didn’t lie to you, but I doubt he told you the whole truth.”

“What’s the whole truth?”

“He was fired. I talked to his supervisor and he said that Jed was unreliable. He came in late most mornings and there were several times when his supervisor suspected that he’d been drinking on the job. He finally caught Jed with a bottle and fired him on the spot.”

“Jed didn’t mention anything about that.”

“Of course he didn’t. My big concern is for Freddy. You said you think Jed’s a real influence on him?”

“I know he is. Freddy thinks the world of Jed.”

“Then we’d better hope that Jed’s drinking hasn’t developed into a pattern. Do you think he was drinking when he was working for you?”

Hannah thought about it for a moment and then she shook her head. “I don’t think he was. I’m pretty sure I would have noticed. Maybe he learned his lesson?”

“Either that, or he’s just being more careful not to get caught. Who are they working for now?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’ll find out and keep an eye on Jed.” Mike finished his coffee and stood up. “Break time’s over and I’ve got to run. I’ll give you a call later.”

The moment Mike left, Hannah pulled out her steno pad and added the new information he’d given her. It didn’t have anything to do with Rhonda’s murder, but she liked to keep all her information in one place. Then she checked her list of things to do and saw her notation about Reverend Knudson. Priscilla thought her grandson had attended a church-related meeting on Friday night, but Hannah had her doubts. If Lisa could spare her, she’d run next door and ask Claire if she knew where the reverend had gone with his two orders of takeout osso buco.

“Is there something wrong with the outfit you bought yesterday?” Claire asked when she answered Hannah’s knock on her back door.

“Are you kidding? I wore it when I went out to dinner with Mike and he said I looked like a goddess.”

Claire smiled. “It’s the simple truth. That outfit does wonders for you.”

“Thanks.” Hannah appreciated the compliment, but it was time to get to the point. “Something’s come up and I need to talk to you about Reverend Knudson. Do you have a minute?”

Claire glanced at her watch. “I have exactly five. Becky Summers just went into the dressing room and she always struggles with her zipper for at least five minutes before she calls me in to help.”

“Then I’d better hurry.” Hannah took a deep breath as she stepped inside Claire’s back room. “I know that this is a delicate subject, but do you know where Reverend Knudson was on Friday night?”

“Is this about Rhonda’s murder?”

“Yes. Rhonda had a guest at the Voelker place on Friday night and he brought two takeout dinners with him. I know Reverend Knudson got takeout that night. I’m hoping he wasn’t Rhonda’s visitor.”

“He wasn’t.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“As sure as I can be. Bob was my visitor.”

“What time did Reverend Knudson get to your place, and when did he leave? And what did he bring you for dinner?”

“Do you really need to know all that?” Claire’s green eyes narrowed. “Or is it just prurient curiosity on your part?”

“I’m never prurient…or at least not often. I really need to know, Claire. I realize you want to keep your relationship with the reverend private and that’s one of the reasons I’m asking. If I can eliminate him from the suspect list, I won’t have to mention him to Mike.”

Claire thought about that for a moment. “All right. Bob got to my apartment at seven and he didn’t leave until after midnight. And he brought me osso buco.”

“Good. I can cross him off the list.” Hannah gave a relieved sigh. “If you don’t mind my asking, why did his grandmother think he was at a church meeting?”

Claire gave a little smile. “Because that’s where he was supposed to be. It was Ecumenical Council night, but they canceled. Bob found out late that afternoon and we…well…we just took advantage of the moment. By the way, he’s an incredible dancer.”

“Reverend Knudson?”

“Yes. He put himself through college by working part time as a dance instructor. Bob can tango better than anybody I know. He’s just wild.”

Hannah blinked. She really had trouble imagining the solemn man who stood behind the pulpit at Redeemer Lutheran dancing a wild tango. “You went out dancing?”

“Not out. We shoved back the furniture and danced in my living room. Bob’s just wonderful, Hannah. I’ve never been so happy in my life. He’s almost got me persuaded to let him announce our engagement to the congregation and let the chips fall where they may.”

Hannah sighed. She wished Claire well, but those would be some pretty big chips.

“I know what you’re thinking, but even when I was involved with Richard, I stayed active in the church. I can always be the reformed sinner that Bob redeemed.”

Another thought occurred to Hannah that she knew she shouldn’t ask, but that had never stopped her before. “Do you really think you could be a small-town minister’s wife?”

“I think so. I know I’d like to be Bob’s wife. There’s only one thing stopping me.”

“Your past?”

“No, Bob doesn’t care about that. But I don’t read music and every other minister’s wife in town plays the organ.”

Hannah glanced at her watch as she pulled into a space in front of the Rhodes Dental Clinic. She was twenty minutes early for her lunch date with Norman despite the fact that she’d stopped off to deliver Loretta’s Praline Charlottes. She got out of her truck, locked it up, and walked into the waiting room. She could hear voices in the back, coming from one of the examining rooms. Norman was still with a patient. Rather than sit and page through magazines she didn’t want to read anyway, Hannah decided to dash up the block to Lake Eden Neighborhood Drugs and talk to Jon Walker about Rhonda’s work at the drugstore.

The heat was shimmering up in little waves from the sidewalk as Hannah walked to the drugstore. Main Street was practically deserted and she could understand why. Anyone with half a brain was inside with curtains drawn and fan blades whirling as fast as they could to move the sluggish air. The heat today was powerful enough to make Hannah wish that the Lake Eden City Council would legislate required siestas.

As Hannah walked, she caught herself stepping over the cracks in the sidewalk. Grandma Ingrid had once told her that if she stepped on a crack, she’d break her mother’s back. The old rhyme had evidently sunk deeply into her subconscious. Of course she didn’t believe it. She doubted she’d believed it then. But twenty-five years had passed since she’d first heard that childish warning and she was still altering her pace to avoid the cracks.

There was a large revolving fan on a stand in the open doorway of the drugstore and Hannah moved around it to step inside. The lighting was dim compared to the brightness of the summer sun. She stopped several feet from the door to let her pupils adjust. When her eyes had done their retinal magic and enabled her to make out obstacles again, she realized that she was standing next to the candy counter and quickly moved over to a display of stuffed toys.

“Hello, Hannah.”

A voice greeted her from the dusky interior. Hannah gave a little wave as she spotted Linda Nelson. “Hi, Linda. I didn’t know you were working here.”

“I’m Beth Halverson’s summer replacement. She got a scholarship to science camp.”

Hannah nodded. Beth was the piccolo player who would be sorely missed by everyone who heard the Jordan High marching band. “I need to talk to Jon. Is he around?”

“He’s in the pharmacy. Come with me and I’ll call him.”

Hannah was surprised. The last time she’d come in to talk to Jon, one of the clerks had just slipped behind the counter, opened the door to the pharmacy, and told Jon that Hannah wanted to see him. “Why do you have to call him?”

“New regulations. We’re not allowed behind the pharmacy counter and the door is kept locked. If someone wants Mr. Walker, we have to call him on the phone.”

“You had a break-in?” Hannah guessed.

“I don’t know. Mr. Walker just told us the new rules when we came in to work Friday morning. He didn’t explain why.”

Hannah followed Linda to the front of the pharmacy counter and watched as she punched a series of numbers into the phone. It rang in the pharmacy, the door behind the counter opened, and Jon Walker came out. He was a full-blooded Chippewa Indian, born at Red Lake Reservation. When it had been time for Jon to start high school, his family had moved to Lake Eden and Jon had graduated from Jordan High. He’d gone on to college and come back to Lake Eden to buy the drugstore and take over the pharmacy.

“What can I do for you, Hannah?” Jon asked, locking the door behind him.

“I need some information. Can we step inside the pharmacy so we can talk privately?”

Jon shook his head. “Sorry. The pharmacy’s off limits to everyone except me. We can go to my office, though.”

Hannah followed Jon through the storage area at the back of the store and into the small cubicle he called his office. It was closet-sized, barely large enough to hold his desk and two chairs, but it was private and that suited Hannah’s purpose.

“Coffee?” Jon asked, gesturing toward a small coffeemaker. It was clear the carafe hadn’t been cleaned in recent memory and it was half-filled with dregs of a brown liquid that looked lethal to Hannah.

“Thanks, but no. What’s with all these new rules you have? Did somebody break into the pharmacy?”

“No, nothing like that. I just decided we were getting too lax and it was time to beef up our security.”

Hannah gave him a challenging look. “Come on, Jon. Nobody fixes something that isn’t broken. Level with me and tell me what gives.”

Jon dropped his eyes and refused to meet hers. “Let’s just say we had an unfortunate incident and I had to make certain it couldn’t happen again.”

“Unfortunate incident? You sound like a politician, Jon.”

“Maybe I do, but I can’t tell you any more than that.”

Hannah studied Jon carefully. His mouth was set in a straight line and he looked determined not to say more. “Okay. If Rhonda wasn’t involved in this incident of yours, I don’t have to know what it was.”

There was complete silence from Jon, although he looked very nervous, and Hannah put two and two together. “Rhonda was involved.”

“Yes. I see where you’re going, Hannah. You think this might have something to do with Rhonda’s murder. Are you working with the sheriff’s department again?”

“I’ve never worked with the sheriff’s department. They’ve always taken great pains to let me know that they don’t want me.”

“I guess that’s true.” Jon gave a small, humorless laugh. “But you are investigating Rhonda’s murder, aren’t you?”

“Unofficially, yes. And that’s why I need to know.”

“What I say has to stay with you. You can’t tell anyone else.”

“You’ve got it,” Hannah said and sat back to wait. Jon had caved and this might be good.

“Rhonda was working late last month, making out her order for the cosmetic department. I’d already left for home and she was the only one here. Around eight o’clock Reggie York pulled up and he hammered on the door. He told Rhonda he’d called in a prescription from work, but traffic was heavy and he’d just gotten back to town.”

Hannah knew Reggie was Gus and Irma York’s oldest son and they were very proud that he’d landed a job as a pilot for Worldways Airline. The last time Hannah had seen Irma, she’d complained that Reggie’s commute to and from the airport in the Twin Cities took longer than most of his flights.

“Rhonda did exactly what I would have done. She let him in. Since she was my manager, she had a master key. She unlocked the door to the pharmacy and found his prescription on the shelf.”

“Rhonda filled his prescription?”

“No, it was filed alphabetically and all ready to go. She rang it up and then she asked Reggie if he was still flying.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing. Not then. When Reggie said he was, Rhonda said she thought pilots who had glaucoma were grounded.”

“How did she know Reggie had glaucoma?”

“Her great-aunt, Mrs. Voelker, had glaucoma. Rhonda used to pick up her medicine and deliver it to her. That’s how she recognized the name of the eyedrops Reggie used.”

“Let me guess,” Hannah said with a sigh. “Rhonda blabbed, somebody reported it to Worldways, and Reggie was grounded?”

“That’s exactly what happened. Reggie’s glaucoma was mild and it was completely under control, but Worldways has very strict rules about their pilots. Reggie applied for a desk job right after he was diagnosed, but it hadn’t come through yet and he could have been fired for concealing his condition.”

“So Reggie was angry with Rhonda for blabbing?”

“Angry wasn’t the word. Reggie was fit to be tied. He called me at home on Thursday night and threatened to sue me for breach of confidentiality.”

Hannah’s mouth dropped open. “Reggie’s suing you?”

“No, I managed to calm him down. He wasn’t really angry with me, but he was furious with Rhonda for gossiping about his disease. He demanded that I change the lock on the pharmacy door and guarantee that no one except a registered pharmacist could get inside. And he also demanded that I fire Rhonda.”

“Oh boy,” Hannah groaned. “Did you fire her?”

“I had to. I told her on Friday morning when she came in to work. I felt bad about it, especially since it was her last day before her vacation, but I knew that people would take their prescriptions to another pharmacy if they found out about it.”

“How did Rhonda take it?”

“That was the surprising thing. I expected her to beg me to reconsider, or tell me off, but she didn’t seem upset at all. She just said she could understand why I had to let her go and she went out the back way smiling.”

“That’s strange. How about your other employees? Do any of them know about this?” Hannah asked the question even though she thought she already knew the answer.

“I didn’t see any point in telling them. I just tightened security the way I promised Reggie I would.”

“I’ve got a tough question for you,” Hannah warned him. “Do you think Reggie was mad enough at Rhonda to kill her?”

Jon thought about it for a moment and then he sighed. “I don’t like to think so, but I suppose it’s possible. Reggie really loved to fly.”

“Thanks for being honest with me, Jon. I only have one more question and I don’t want you to take it personally. Where were you on Friday night?”

“You think I killed Rhonda?” Jon looked utterly shocked.

“Of course not, but you did have a motive.”

“What motive?”

“If things had gone differently, Rhonda could have cost you your business. I’ve got to put you on my suspect list, but I can cross you off if I know where you were.”

“I guess it can’t hurt to tell you. I picked Judy up right after I locked up at five, and we drove to Mille Lacs Lake for my mother-in-law’s birthday. You can check with Judy. We stayed over that night and drove back early Saturday morning so that I could open at nine.”

“Thanks, Jon.” Hannah slipped her steno pad back into her purse and stood up to leave. She glanced at his coffeemaker as she passed it and sighed. “The next time you come in The Cookie Jar, the coffee’s on me. You could probably bottle that stuff of yours and sell it for rat poison.”

Praline Charlottes

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F.,
with rack in middle position.

1½ cups melted butter (3 sticks)

1½ cups brown sugar

2 teaspoons vanilla

1½ teaspoons baking soda

1 teaspoon baking powder

1 teaspoon salt (decrease to ½ teaspoon if you use salted pecans)

1½ cups finely ground pecans (grind them up in your food processor with the steel blade and measure AFTER grinding)

2 beaten eggs (just whip them up with a fork)

3 cups flour (no need to sift)

Microwave the butter in your mixing bowl to melt it. Add the sugar and vanilla. Stir until blended, and then add the baking soda, baking powder, and salt. Mix well.

Grind the pecans in your food processor. (Remember to measure AFTER grinding.) Add them to the bowl and mix. Pour in the beaten eggs and stir. Then add the flour and mix until all the ingredients are thoroughly blended.

Let the dough sit for a few minutes to firm up. Then form dough into walnut-sized balls and arrange them on a greased cookie sheet, 12 to a standard sheet. (If the dough is too sticky to form into balls, chill it for a few minutes and try again.)

Flatten the balls with a fork in a crisscross pattern. (If the fork sticks, either spray it with Pam or dip it in flour.)

Bake at 350 degrees F. for 8 to 10 minutes or until they’re golden brown around the edges. Cool on the cookie sheet for 2 minutes, then remove to a wire rack to finish cooling. When they’re cool, prepare the frosting.

Praline Frosting

¾ cup butter (1 ½ sticks)

3½ cups powdered sugar (not sifted)

2 teaspoons vanilla (or 1 ½ teaspoons vanilla and ½ teaspoon maple flavoring)

1⁄3 cup cream

½ cup finely chopped pecans

Approx. 6 dozen pecan halves for decoration (optional)

Before you start, arrange the cooled cookies on racks or on sheets of waxed paper. Then heat the butter in a saucepan over medium heat, stirring occasionally, until it turns a medium shade of brown (the color of peanut butter) . Remove the pan from the heat, and add the vanilla (and the maple flavoring if you use it) . Blend in the powdered sugar, the cream, and the finely chopped pecans. Stir the frosting with a spoon until it’s well mixed, but don’t let it cool completely.

Frost the cookies and place a pecan half (optional) on top of each cookie for decoration. (It’s like spreading butter; you don’t have to spread it all the way out to the edges.) If your frosting hardens before you’re through, scrape it into a microwave-safe bowl and heat it for 30 seconds to 1 minute on high in the microwave to soften it so that you can spread it again.

Let the finished cookies rest on racks or on waxed paper until the frosting has hardened (at least an hour) . Then store the cookies in a cookie jar or other closed container.

Yield: Approximately 8 dozen, depending on cookie size.

Note: These cookies, unfrosted, make a delicious “tea” cookie with a light, delicate flavor. The only changes you have to make are to roll the dough balls smaller and press them down with the heel of your impeccably clean hand. Bake them for about 8 minutes or until the edges begin to turn golden. Andrea says they’re EXCELLENT with hot chocolate.

Chapter
Sixteen

W hen Hannah got back to Norman’s clinic, she still had four minutes to wait. She took out her steno pad and jotted a note to speak to Reggie York at the first opportunity. Rhonda’s gossip had almost cost him his job and that was certainly a motive for murder. Then she placed Reggie second on her list of suspects, right after Ken Purvis. Since she’d eliminated both Reverend Knudson and Gil Surma as Rhonda’s possible dinner companion, Ken was left holding the bag, or rather, the boxes of osso buco.

The sliding glass door that separated the receptionist desk from the waiting room opened and Norman’s smiling face appeared. “Oh, good. You’re here. We’ll be right out.”

Hannah heard Norman giving his patient last-minute instructions, something about a soft toothbrush and a special brand of toothpaste, and then the interior door to the waiting room opened. Norman stood aside to let his patient precede him and Hannah smiled as she saw her baby sister. “Hi, Michelle. I didn’t know you were here.”

“Hi, Hannah. Dr. Rhodes is wonderful. Just look at what he did for me!”

Michelle smiled and Hannah gasped in shock as she saw two gemstones embedded in her sister’s front teeth.

“Isn’t it wonderful?” Michelle reached up to tap her front teeth. “This one’s red and this one’s blue. Now I’m unique and I’m patriotic, too. It’s just perfect for the Fourth of July.”

Hannah struggled to make a sound, but she was so flustered, she couldn’t say a word. Michelle’s front teeth were ruined! She took a deep breath, called upon her vocal cords to do their thing and managed to croak out a response. “How could you, Norman?!”

Norman exchanged a glance with Michelle and they both started to laugh. Hannah got up, preparing to storm out of the clinic and banish Norman from her life forever, but Norman grabbed her arm.

“I didn’t really do anything, Hannah. They’re just temporary.”

“What do you mean?”

“The teeth with the gemstones are attached to a retainer that fits in Michelle’s mouth. Her regular teeth aren’t affected at all.”

“Oh,” Hannah said, sinking back down in the chair. “Then they’re fakes?”

“I prefer to call them a miracle of modern dentistry, but you can call them fakes. Show her, Michelle.”

Hannah watched as Michelle loosened the caps and took them out of her mouth. She smiled and Hannah breathed a big sigh of relief as she saw that her sister’s teeth were intact. “Thank goodness for that! I really didn’t think you’d do anything permanent, Norman.”

“Yes, you did. I saw that fire in your eyes. You were all ready to kick me from here to the next county, maybe even out of the state.”

“Well…maybe,” Hannah conceded.

“Don’t worry, Hannah.” Michelle slipped the retainer into a little plastic box and placed it inside her purse. “I’ll tell Mother they’re fake before I even take them out of the box.”

“Good girl. Mother can’t stand another shock. Finding Rhonda’s body really took the wind out of her sails.”

“I know. She told me.” Michelle turned back to Norman. “Are you sure I can’t pay you? I’ve got some money saved.”

“Keep your money. We already worked out a payment plan.”

“Were they expensive?” Hannah asked. She hadn’t bought Michelle’s birthday present yet, and she was sure that Andrea would split the cost of the retainer with her.

“They were very expensive, but we worked out a deal.” Norman winked at her. “Your sister’s on my special time-payment plan. For every ‘A’ she gets, I deduct fifty dollars from her bill. And every ‘B’ is worth twenty-five. She tells me she’s a good student, so I figure that by the end of her junior year she’ll own her retainer free and clear.”

Michelle shook her head. “It won’t take me that long. I plan to get perfect grades next semester and I’ll send you a copy.”

“Make sure that you do. And stop by the next time you come home so I can see how they’re holding up.”

“I will.”

“How about lunch? Hannah and I are going over to the café.”

“Thanks, but I can’t. I promised to meet some friends for lunch. ’Bye, Hannah. And thanks again, Dr. Rhodes. These teeth are going to just blow the girls away!”

“More coffee, Hannah?” Rose approached the booth with the pot in her hand.

“No, thanks.”

“How about that salad? Do you want me to take it away?”

“Might as well. I already ate all the good stuff.”

Rose glanced down at the remains of Hannah’s Chicken Caesar and nodded. “I can see that. The only thing left is lettuce. Don’t you like romaine?”

“I like it just fine, but I’ve had enough lettuce to last me for a month. Maybe more than a month.”

“You must be on a diet,” Rose guessed, sliding into the other side of the booth. “I noticed it when you came in with Norman. I even said to Hal, Hannah looks thinner .”

“You did?” Hannah felt her spirits perk up. They’d hit rock bottom about ten minutes ago, when Norman’s pager had gone off and he’d told her that he had to go back to the clinic to handle a dental emergency.

“I’m not even going to say what I have for dessert. No sense in tempting you.”

“I’m already tempted. The minute I set foot in here, I started dreaming about your coconut cake.”

“Then you’re in luck.” Rose leaned forward and grinned at her.

“No, I’m not. I can’t have it.”

“I know that. I was just about to say that Mayor Bascomb took the last piece back to his office. Does that make you feel better?”

“Only if I can get over to his office and mug him before he eats it.”

Rose laughed and Hannah knew she was pleased. Her coconut cake was legendary, but she never got tired of hearing people rave about it.

“Mind if I sit for a minute?” Rose asked.

“Not at all,” Hannah said. Rose was already sitting, so the question was moot.

“Everybody loves that coconut cake. When Irma York was in this morning, she ordered two for Reggie’s bachelor party.”

Hannah’s ears perked up at the mention of Reggie’s name. “I didn’t know Reggie was getting married.”

“Neither did Irma until Friday night. He’s been dating this girl in Hawaii. She’s a reservations agent for Worldways. When Reggie found out he got promoted on Friday morning, he flew straight to Honolulu to ask her to marry him.”

“That’s wonderful news,” Hannah said and she silently added, in more ways than one. If Reggie had flown to Hawaii on Friday, he couldn’t have murdered Rhonda.

“Irma’s all excited about going to Hawaii for the wedding. They’re getting free tickets from Worldways since the kids are both employees.” Rose glanced at her watch and slid out of the booth. “Lisa’s burger should be ready by now. I told Hal to put on extra pickles and mustard, and he’s throwing in an order of fries for you to share. People on diets should have more vegetables. I read that in a magazine.”

“Here you go, Lisa.” Hannah handed her partner the bag from the café and gestured toward the kitchen. “Go eat. And then find something to do for an hour. And I don’t mean baking, either. You need a break.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. You haven’t had any time off in a week.”

“Okay.” Lisa gave her a big grin. “When I’m through with lunch, I’ll run down to Kiddie Korner. All the seniors are there and they’re helping Tracey’s class decorate the float.”

“That’s nice. Have you seen it yet?”

“I saw it last night. It’s going to be spectacular, Hannah. Andrea really had a great idea.”

“She did?” Hannah felt her curiosity rise. “What colors are they using?”

Lisa shook her head. “I can’t tell you. I’ve been sworn to secrecy about everything. Andrea and Janice don’t want you to know anything about it until the day of the parade.”

Hannah gave up. Lisa could keep a secret better than anyone she knew and it was a lost cause.

“Hi, Hannah.” Andrea popped through the front door of The Cookie Jar just as Hannah had finished refilling the coffee mugs. “I’ve got great news. Danielle Watson is back in town. She looks absolutely wonderful, much better than she did when she was married to the coach.”

“I’m really glad to hear that.” Hannah knew she’d never forget how terrified Danielle had been when everyone in town thought she’d killed her husband. “Is she back for a visit?”

“No, for good.”

“Really? I thought you sold her house for her when she went to stay with her mother in Florida.”

“I did. Danielle said there were too many unhappy memories and she didn’t want to keep it. Now that she’s back, she’s looking for a condo. Are there any units for sale in your complex? There’s nothing listed, but sometimes people try to sell on their own.”

Hannah tried to think of any likely candidates. “You could try Mrs. Wozniac. Her sister’s husband died and she was talking about moving in with her.”

“Thanks. That’s a good lead.” Andrea pulled out her leather-bound appointment book and jotted down the name. “Anybody else?”

“Not that I know of, but check with Sue Plotnik. Phil’s president of the homeowners’ association and nobody can put up a For Sale sign without his approval.”

“That’s another good lead. Have you ever thought of going into real estate, Hannah?”

“Never.” Hannah knew she’d better change the subject before Andrea tried to recruit her. “Is Danielle going to look for a job in town?”

“Not exactly. She’s opening a dance studio and I found the perfect spot for her. I showed her the loft above Red Owl Grocery and she rented it on the spot. She absolutely fell in love with the high windows and the hardwood floor. And that reminds me, did you know that Red Owl used to be a big grocery chain? The chain went under, but our store petitioned the board of directors and got permission to keep the name.”

“That’s interesting. When is Danielle going to open for business?”

“In September, right after school starts. She said it wouldn’t take much work to convert the loft. All she needs to do is resurface the floor, install floor-to-ceiling mirrors, and decorate it.”

“Good for her.” Hannah was pleased.

“I’m just glad I thought to show it to her. It’s been on the books for over three months and I thought I’d never get it rented. I really hope Danielle can make a good living teaching dance in Lake Eden and it won’t end up on the books again.”

Hannah clamped her lips shut. She knew that Danielle could afford to run her studio at a loss, but Danielle’s finances were her own personal business.

“I just popped in for a minute. I’ve got a million things to do before Tracey gets out of preschool. You’re going to the dinner tonight, aren’t you?”

“What dinner?”

“At the lake cottage. We’re all invited. I wonder why Mother hasn’t called you yet.”

Hannah experienced a fleeting moment of relief. Perhaps Delores had forgotten. Then she wouldn’t have to put her diet to the test again tonight. But Delores never forgot things like that.

“She’ll call,” Hannah said, as certain of that as she was of the sun rising in the morning. “She’s probably nursing a sore ear from all those phone calls she’s been making about Rhonda.”

“I’m back.” Lisa came in from the kitchen with a smile on her face. “They’re having a ball down at Kiddie Korner. Janice really had a great idea involving the seniors. The kids don’t seem to notice that some of them have failing memories.”

“Kids that age are very accepting. If we could just get them to keep that attitude, it might be a kinder world.”

“You said it!” Lisa said with a sigh, but she immediately brightened. “Janice is talking about making this a regular thing. She said that if the seniors could spend one afternoon a week with them, it would be good for both groups.”

“I think she’s right. Some of Tracey’s classmates don’t have grandparents in the area. And the seniors have the same problem in reverse.”

Lisa moved behind the counter and began to make a fresh urn of coffee. “Did any new orders come in while I was gone?”

“Just one. Donna Lempke’s throwing a sweet-sixteen party for her daughter and she wanted to know if we could make ice cream sandwiches.”

“Can we?”

“I told her we could. Remember how soft the Pecan Chews got the last time we baked them?”

“I remember. They tasted great, though.”

“I think it was the humidity. It’s still just as humid, so I thought we’d bake another batch. We’ll sandwich vanilla ice cream between them, wrap them individually, and freeze them.”

“Let’s do half vanilla and half chocolate,” Lisa suggested. “Then people can choose.”

“That’s a good idea. If they turn out really well, we’ll add them to the summer cookie menu. In weather like this people might like something frozen.”

“Do you want me to start on them now?”

“Not quite yet. I have someone I need to see. Could you man the counter for an hour?”

“Sure. Does it have anything to do with—” Lisa stopped and glanced around her, but the customers at the tables were busy with their own conversations “—with Rhonda’s murder?”

“Yes. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Take as long as you need. I told you I’d run the shop while you investigated. Is there anything I can do while I’m waiting on our customers?”

Hannah thought about that for a moment. “Nothing specific, but keep your eyes open and be the invisible coffee mug filler.”

“That actually works,” Lisa said with a laugh. “They just go right on talking like I’m not even there.”

“I know. That’s one great advantage we have. Just listen for anything that has to do with Rhonda and tell me about it when I get back.”

“Can you tell me who you’re going to see?”

It took Hannah no more than a split second before she decided. Lisa never blabbed what she shouldn’t. “Kenneth Purvis.”

“Mr. Purvis?” Lisa’s eyes widened. “Do you think he killed Rhonda?”

The concerned look on Lisa’s face made Hannah decide to hedge a bit. “I just think he might have some information that could help me. I’ll give him a call and see if he’s at home.”

“He’s probably at the school.”

“How do you know that?”

“Mrs. Purvis was in last Wednesday and I heard her tell Gail Hanson that she was driving to Rochester for a family reunion and she wasn’t coming back until the third. She said Mr. Purvis had a lot of work to do on the fall schedule and he’d practically be living at the school until she got back.”

Hannah smiled. “The invisible coffee mug filler trick worked.”

“Actually, it was the invisible cookie boxer trick. She came in to get three dozen Old-Fashioned Sugar Cookies to take to her mother.”

Chapter
Seventeen

A fter promising to stop and pick up some vanilla and chocolate ice cream, Hannah went out through the kitchen. Once she reached her cookie truck, she unlocked the doors and lowered the windows to let out the stifling air. On a day like today, when the mercury was flirting with the ninety-degree mark, she’d give her kingdom for air-conditioning that worked.

It didn’t take long to drive to the school. Hannah pulled into the Jordan High faculty lot and parked next to Ken Purvis’s car. The only other car in the lot belonged to the music teacher and she could hear the marching band practicing on the football field. Hannah walked across the steaming concrete, grimacing at the strains of music she heard. It was good they were practicing. They needed it.

The interior of the school was slightly cooler than the blazing heat outside. Hannah walked down the deserted hallway, smelling the same unique combination of sweeping compound and chalk dust that had welcomed her as a child. She still felt a pang on the first day of school, when freshly washed school busses carried spiffed-up students to the Lake Eden school complex. The first day of the school year had always been her favorite. Dressed in her new school clothes with summer freckles still dancing a line across her nose, she had carried her new book bag into a classroom that had sported completely clean blackboards, long pieces of perfectly formed chalk, and bigger desks.

Hannah stopped at the end of the hall and peeked around the corner at Ken Purvis’s office. The door was open and the secretary’s desk was unoccupied. She breathed a sigh of relief as she stepped into the outer office, glad that she didn’t have to make up an excuse to see Ken privately.

There was the sound of rustling papers from the inner office, Ken’s domain. Hannah approached the open door and stopped in her tracks as she smelled a familiar scent. Old Spice. There could be no mistake about it. Her father had used Old Spice aftershave and the scent was as familiar to her as chocolate. Ken Purvis had been Rhonda’s boyfriend. Hannah was certain.

Ken glanced up as Hannah knocked on the open door. He looked startled at the interruption, but the moment he saw that it was Hannah, he smiled. “Come in.”

Hannah entered the inner sanctum that caused most high school students to tremble in their sneakers and took a chair in front of Ken’s desk. She was trying to think of something polite to say to warm Ken up for the ensuing conversation when he beat her to it.

“It’s always good to see you, Hannah. You’re not planning to enroll for the fall semester, are you?”

Hannah laughed at the standard principal’s joke. “No, I’ve got something else on my mind.”

“What can I do for you?” Ken removed his reading glasses and placed them upside down, bows crossed, on the pile of papers he’d been reading.

Hannah hesitated. She wanted to handle this tactfully, but she couldn’t think of a way to do it. “Why did you bring two takeout dinners to Rhonda Scharf at the Voelker place on Friday night?”

All the color in Ken’s face fled and so did his smile. “How do you know that?”

“I know.”

“Does anybody else know?”

“Not yet. Maybe they won’t have to if you’re honest with me.”

Ken sighed and it was like letting all the air out of a basketball. Hannah could almost see him deflate before her eyes. “What you’re thinking is right, Hannah. I’m not proud of it, but I was involved with Rhonda.”

“Does that involved mean what I think it means?”

“Yes. It’s entirely my fault that it went this far and I take full responsibility. I just hope that Kathy won’t have to find out about it.”

Hannah could understand his concern. Ken’s wife had a fiery temper and she wouldn’t take the news of her husband’s infidelity lightly. “This is just between you and me right now. Tell me how it started.”

“I was having troubles at home with Kathy.” Ken sighed deeply. “You don’t need to know about that, do you?”

“No.”

“Well…I wanted to ease the situation a bit and I went to the drugstore to buy a bottle of perfume as a peace offering.”

Hannah decided to cut to the chase. She knew about Rhonda’s bag of tricks. “And Rhonda came on to you?”

“That’s exactly what happened. It was right after she inherited her great-aunt’s place. She said she really wanted to go out and look at it, but she needed the help of a big strong man. And…”

“Never mind, I get the picture,” Hannah cut him off. “And you went out there for another…uh…rendezvous with Rhonda on Friday night?”

Ken shook his head. “Not exactly. Kathy and I worked out our problems. When she left on Wednesday to go to her family reunion, I decided the time was right to break it off with Rhonda.”

“Because Rhonda would have two weeks to get over being mad at you before she came back from her vacation?”

“That was a factor,” Ken admitted. “I was trying to make it easier on everybody involved.”

“Including you?”

“Including me.”

Hannah gave Ken a long hard look, but he appeared completely sincere. “And you decided to bring Rhonda dinner before you broke the bad news to her?”

“It sounds a little strange now, but that’s exactly right. I called and asked to see her, but she said she had to go out to her great-aunt’s place to pick up some things. I told her that was fine, that I’d take her out there and then I’d go get us some dinner. She thought that was fine and she offered to bring dessert.”

Hannah was sure that Ken was telling the truth, but that didn’t mean that he hadn’t killed Rhonda. She felt slightly uncomfortable for a moment, wondering if she should have brought some kind of weapon, but she quickly dismissed that concern. Ken wasn’t a large man and Mike had taught her some good self-defense moves. “Tell me exactly what happened that night and don’t leave anything out.”

“All right,” Ken agreed, but he looked very uncomfortable. “Just let me take a pill first.”

Hannah watched as he pulled out his center desk drawer and took out a prescription pill bottle. “What are you taking?”

“Something Doc Knight prescribed for my bursitis. He said it would work, but it hasn’t had much effect so far.” Ken shook out a pill and downed it with a sip of water from the glass that was sitting on his desk. “You want to hear everything?”

“Yes.”

“I had an appointment with Doc Knight at five on Friday afternoon. After that, I went straight over to Rhonda’s apartment and drove her out to her great-aunt’s place.”

“What time was that?”

“About six.”

Hannah jotted down the time in her notebook. “What happened when you got there?”

“I dropped her off and then I went to pick up our dinners. I figured I’d tell her after we ate.”

“The takeout was from Alfredo’s Ristorante?”

“Yes. I ordered in advance. They have osso buco on Friday nights and Rhonda said she liked it.”

“Where was Rhonda when you got back?”

“In the kitchen. She was taking a break, waiting for me to get back. We sat down at the table and I opened the wine. I brought a really good bottle of Chianti, because I thought it might ease the situation.”

“Right.” Hannah tried not to sound too sarcastic. Ken was a fool if he thought a bad situation would improve with alcohol.

“I sat down to dinner but I was so nervous, I couldn’t eat much. I just had the garnish off the osso buco and that was it. Rhonda noticed that I wasn’t eating and she asked me if something was wrong. That’s when I told her.”

“And was her reaction as bad as you thought it would be?”

“It was worse. She got angry and accused me of treating her like a…” Ken stopped speaking and cleared his throat. “Do you really need to know what she said?”

“No. What happened next?”

Ken reached for his glass of water and took a sip. “She started screaming at me and calling me names. They were really ugly names, if you get my drift.”

“I do. Go on.”

“By this time I’d taken just about all I could take. I knew there was nothing I could say to calm Rhonda down, so…I left.”

Hannah pulled out her notebook. “What time was that?”

“Around seven-thirty.”

“Where did you go?”

“I drove home and called Kathy at her mother’s house.”

Hannah groaned. “Did you tell Kathy what had happened with Rhonda?”

“Of course not. I realize I was irresponsible and stupid when I started this whole thing with Rhonda, but I’ve never harbored a death wish.”

Hannah had to grin at that. “What did you tell Kathy?”

“Just that I’d had a rough day and I needed to hear her voice. We talked for quite a while about the reunion and the cousins she hadn’t seen since she was little. When I finally hung up, I felt a lot better. I also felt hungry, because I skipped lunch and all I’d eaten were the sliced olives on top of my dinner. There wasn’t much to eat in the house, so I decided to go out and get a hamburger or something. I went back out to my car and that’s when I realized that I’d left Rhonda at the Voelker place with no way back to town.”

“I was wondering when you’d get to that. So you drove back out?”

“Yes. I didn’t want to, but I couldn’t just leave her there. It was too far to walk back to town.”

“What time did you get back there?” Hannah held her pen at the ready. The time frame would be crucial.

“At nine-thirty or so. The lights were on so I figured that Rhonda was still there. I sat there in the car for a minute or two. I really didn’t want to go in and start fighting with her again. But I’d driven out there to give her a ride and I figured I might as well do it.”

Hannah flipped back to the page where she’d listed Rhonda’s time of death. If Doc Knight was right, and he usually was, Rhonda had been dead and cooling off in the basement when Ken had knocked on the door. “Were there any other cars in the driveway when you drove up?”

“No. I wouldn’t have stopped if there’d been another car. Whoever it was could have given Rhonda a ride.”

“What happened when you went in?”

“I didn’t go in, not right away. I knocked on the door and waited for her to answer. And when she didn’t, I knocked again. Then I opened the door and went inside.”

“What’s the first thing you did when you stepped inside?”

“I called out for Rhonda. It’s not a big place and I knew she could hear me. When she still didn’t answer, I got nervous. I thought maybe she’d had an accident, or something like that. I went from room to room, looking for her, but she wasn’t anywhere in the house. I even went out in the backyard to search for her.”

“What made you think that Rhonda might have been out there?”

“The takeout boxes were gone and the back door was standing open. I figured she’d gone out with the garbage and…” Ken stopped talking and swallowed hard. “Do you think Rhonda’s killer went out that way?”

“It’s possible.”

Ken shivered. “I guess I could have scared him away. I never thought about that. If he was still in the basement when I drove up, he could have run out the back way.”

Hannah nodded as another piece of the puzzle clicked into place. She’d discussed the grave with Mike. Both of them thought that the killer had intended to fully bury Rhonda, but someone or something had frightened him away before he could finish his grisly task. Ken Purvis could be that someone. If Rhonda’s killer had been in the basement when Ken’s car drove up, he would have had plenty of time to flee out the back door.

“Maybe the killer was still there when I went to the backyard,” Ken speculated, his voice shaking slightly. “I didn’t hear anything, but it was dark and he could have been hiding anywhere.”

Hannah figured she’d better reassure Ken. His face had turned a sickly shade of gray and drops of nervous perspiration were beading on his forehead. “My guess is that he was long gone. Let’s get back to what happened. After you checked the backyard, you…?”

“I came back in and shut the back door. I figured she could come back in after I left.”

“Think back to how the kitchen looked. Was the basement door open?”

Ken frowned in an attempt to remember. “It must have been closed. If it had been open, I would have gone down there.”

“So you never considered that Rhonda might be in the basement?”

“It never even occurred to me,” Ken said, sighing deeply. “I really wish I’d thought to check. If I’d found her, I could have gone for help, or taken her to the hospital myself.”

“Forget it, Ken. Doc Knight said Rhonda died instantly. Even if you’d found her, you couldn’t have saved her life.”

“Thanks for telling me, Hannah.” Ken reached for his glass and took another sip of water. “That makes me feel a little better. It’s still awful, but at least I know there was nothing I could have done to help her.”

“What did you think when you searched the house and you couldn’t find Rhonda?” Hannah asked.

“I figured one of her friends had seen the lights, dropped by to see her, and given her a lift home. Or maybe she’d walked out to the road and flagged someone down. Those were the only explanations I could think of.”

“So you didn’t think there was anything wrong when Rhonda wasn’t there at the house?”

“Not really. I did think it was a little odd that she’d left on the lights, but Rhonda tended to storm off when she was mad and I thought she’d just forgotten to turn them off. It was wasting electricity since there was no one there, and—” Ken’s voice trailed off and he took another sip of water “—I turned them off and left. I didn’t know about Rhonda then.”

“I understand. Where did you go after you left the Voelker place?”

“I drove to the Quick Stop to get some gas, and then I went to the Corner Tavern for a burger and fries.”

Hannah closed her steno pad, shoved it back into her purse, and got to her feet. “That’s all I need for now. Thanks for being honest with me, Ken.”

“Wait a second.” A look of panic crossed Ken’s face. “You don’t think that I killed Rhonda, do you?”

“Of course I don’t. And there’s a way you can prove it right now if you want me to clear you completely.”

“I do! What do you need? Telephone records so you can prove I went home to call Kathy? My gas receipt from the Quick Stop?”

“Those wouldn’t do it, but your bursitis will.”

“It will? How?”

“Just call Doc Knight and have him verify that your bursitis was acting up on Friday.”

“I can do that. I’ll call him right now.” Ken reached for the phone and punched in a series of numbers.

While Ken explained what he needed to Doc Knight, Hannah glanced around his inner sanctum. There was an array of Jordan High graduation class photos that ran the length of three walls, one for every year since the school had been built. She found hers and grimaced slightly as she saw her younger face. No doubt the photographer had told them to say “cheese” because she was smiling so widely, she had chipmunk cheeks.

“Here, Hannah,” Ken said, handing her the phone. “I told Doc Knight to give you any information you needed.”

Hannah took the phone and leaned across the desk, so the cord wouldn’t stretch out too much. “Hi, Doc.”

“Hello, Hannah. Ken says you need to know about his bursitis. When I saw him last Friday, it was in an acute stage and his range of motion was severely limited.”

“How limited?”

“He couldn’t raise his right arm any higher than his waist and his left arm was even worse. You’re working on Rhonda’s murder?”

“That’s right.”

“You should have asked me before you put Ken through the wringer. Even if he’d been mad as blazes, there’s no way he could have stabbed Rhonda. She was standing with her back turned to her assailant at the time and they’re approximately the same height.”

“Would it work if she was standing in the hole?”

“No. The angle would be wrong. Take him off your list, Hannah. Ken’s not your man.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Thanks, Doc. You’ve been a big help.”

Hannah hung up and turned to smile at Ken. “Okay. Doc Knight says you couldn’t have done it. You’re in the clear.”

“Then nobody has to hear about my…uh…relationship with Rhonda?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Hannah said as she headed for the door. “I was just here to check some old school records that you were kind enough to find for me.”

Chapter
Eighteen

B usiness was brisk when Hannah got back to The Cookie Jar. After she had stashed her vanilla and chocolate ice cream in the freezer, she managed a brief private word with Lisa. She said nothing to tarnish the image of Lisa’s former principal and she certainly didn’t mention his liaison with Rhonda. She just said that she’d needed to check some old school records and that Ken had been very helpful.

It didn’t take long to mix up a batch of Pecan Chews and in less than an hour they were baked and cooling on the racks. Hannah was about to soften the ice cream to make the sandwiches when Freddy Sawyer knocked on the back door.

“Come in, Freddy,” Hannah invited. “Have a cookie or two.”

“Thanks, Hannah. I love your cookies. They’re almost as good as the ones my mom used to bake.”

Hannah took that as a compliment. As she remembered, Mrs. Sawyer had made very good cookies. She poured a glass of milk for Freddy, set two cookies on a napkin for him, and waited until he had finished munching.

“I wish I knew how to bake,” Freddy said, wiping his mouth with the napkin. “Miss Cox promised to teach me, but I’m too busy helping Jed right now. We’re making real good money. Did you know that?”

“I know.”

“Did you see my new watch?” Freddy pointed down at the watch on his wrist. “Jed bought it for me this morning and it cost almost ten dollars. It was in the window and the girl climbed in to get it for me. She said it was a sports watch. I don’t play sports, but that’s okay, isn’t it?”

“That’s fine. Lots of people who don’t play sports wear sports watches.”

“Why is that?”

Hannah shrugged. She’d never really thought about that before. “I’m not sure, but I think it’s because they’re more rugged.”

“I like that answer.” Freddy smiled widely. “Jed’s always after me to be more rugged. He thinks I should stand up for myself if somebody teases me, and he’s even teaching me to fight.”

Hannah wasn’t sure she liked that idea. She was sure that Freddy could defend himself in a pinch quite well enough already. But it was a chance to ask a few questions about Freddy’s cousin. “Does Jed know how to fight?”

“You betcha! Jed told me he once licked a guy twice his size. Put him right in the hospital. I don’t understand how being licked could put you in the hospital, though. Mrs. Cox’s dogs lick me all the time and it doesn’t hurt me any.”

“That’s true, but what I think Jed means is…” Hannah paused, trying to think of a way to explain slang usage to Freddy.

“Oh, gosh! I forgot the time!” Freddy glanced down at his new watch and sighed. “I’d like to stay and talk to you more, but I have to meet Jed at the café in fifteen minutes.”

Hannah remembered what Lisa had told her about Janice Cox teaching Freddy to tell time. It seemed he had the concept down pat. “That watch is going to come in really handy for you, Freddy.”

“I know. I was careful to pick out the one with hands instead of just numbers. That’s the one I learned how to do.”

Freddy stood up and headed for the door, but Hannah stopped him. “Was there something you needed, Freddy? Or did you just come in to say hello?”

“Oh, boy! I guess Jed is right and I really am a dunce!” Freddy thunked his forehead with the heel of his hand. “It just went clean out of my head, Hannah. I wanted you to save something for me. Will you?”

“Sure,” Hannah said, guessing that it was a rock or some little object Freddy had come across in his handyman work.

“I’ve got it right here. Be real careful of it. It’s precious.” Freddy pulled a battered shoebox out of his backpack and handed it to Hannah.

Hannah accepted the box gingerly. It was tied up with twine and it didn’t look too clean. “It’s not alive, is it?”

“No.” Freddy gave a little laugh. “And it’s not a sandwich, either. It won’t spoil.”

“Good. Can you tell me what it is?”

“It’s something Jed lost. I found it in the trash right before the garbage truck came. I’m going to shine it all up and give it to him for a present. Boy, will he be surprised!”

“That’s nice,” Hannah said, wondering if Jed would appreciate getting something he’d thrown away as a present. “Where do you want me to keep it?”

Freddy glanced around and then he pointed to the walk-in cooler. “How about in there? Nobody will find it there.”

“Okay. Come with me.” Hannah carried the box to the cooler and opened the door. She stepped in and Freddy followed her inside. “I’ll put it right here, on the shelf behind the milk cartons.”

Freddy nodded, watching while Hannah removed the cartons and slipped the shoebox in the back. “That’s real good, Hannah. Nobody’ll see it there.”

“Just tell me when you want it back and I’ll get it for you,” Hannah said, leading Freddy to the door.

“Okay. Thanks, Hannah. Good friends are like sunshine. A day is gloomy without them.” Hannah turned to give Freddy a quizzical look and he grinned. “Mom used to say that. She had a lot of friends and she said they were my friends, too.”

Hannah had just finished mixing up the next day’s cookies and stashing them in the cooler when Lisa came into the kitchen waving a ten-dollar bill.

“Look at this, Hannah. There’s something funny about it.”

“Funny ha-ha, or funny peculiar?” Hannah asked, repeating the words of Mrs. Carlson, her third-grade teacher.

“Funny peculiar. You must have had Mrs. Carlson, too.” Lisa gave a little laugh. “Just look at it, Hannah. I’ve never seen an old one that’s this new before.”

Hannah walked over to take a look and she didn’t point out the inconsistency in Lisa’s statement. The issue date was nineteen seventy-four, but the old-style bill was crisp and clean, and it looked as if it had just been minted. “That is strange.”

“Do you think it’s counterfeit?”

“It could be. We’d better ask at the bank.” Hannah glanced up at the clock on the kitchen wall. It was past three and the bank would be closed, but Doug Greerson, the president of First National Mercantile, stayed in his office until five. “I’ll run over and check with Doug. Do you have any idea who gave it to you?”

Lisa looked a little worried. “I think it was your sister.”

“Andrea?”

“No, Michelle. She stopped by while you were having lunch with Norman and bought a half-dozen Short Stack Cookies to take to her friend’s house. The only reason I remember was that we were running short on fives and I had to give her all one-dollar bills in change.”

Hannah frowned as she looked down at the bill. “If Michelle had it, it could have come from the Twin Cities area. I’m going out to the cottage tonight to have dinner with the family. If Doug says it’s counterfeit, I’ll ask Michelle if she remembers where she got it.”

Doug Greerson looked surprised to see Hannah standing outside the front door of the bank and holding up a ten-dollar bill. He motioned for her to wait a moment, then walked back to a keypad that was partially hidden from her view. After he’d entered some numbers, he came back to the door and unlocked it, a lengthy procedure that involved several complicated locks.

“Thanks, Doug.” Hannah stepped in, waving the bill. “This came into the shop this afternoon. Lisa and I both think it looks funny peculiar.”

Doug chuckled. “Mrs. Carlson, third grade. I’ll never forget her for that. Go on back to my office and make yourself comfortable. I’ll be there as soon as I reset the alarm. There’s some coffee in the pot. It’s a combination of Columbian, Guatemalan, Brazilian, and Sumatran.”

“Sounds good.”

“It is. It’s darkly roasted, heavy-bodied, and it has a smooth finish.”

“I’ll have to taste that,” Hannah said with a grin as she walked back to Doug’s office. He’d discovered gourmet coffees at Christmas when his wife, Diana, had given him a sample pack of beans and an electric coffee grinder.

Doug’s coffeepot was spotless, a sharp contrast to the one in Jon Walker’s office. Hannah had just poured herself a cup and taken one of the chairs in front of the desk when Doug came in.

“So what do you think of the coffee?” he asked.

Hannah took a sip and smiled. “It’s really good.”

“Just wait until next week. I ordered a shipment of Blue Mountain from Zabar’s in New York. It’s supposed to be the finest coffee in the world.”

“It’d have to go some to beat this,” Hannah declared and took another sip. “Take a look at this bill, Doug.”

Doug took the bill Hannah handed him, switched on his halogen desk lamp, and took what looked like a jeweler’s loupe from his desk drawer. He examined the bill for several moments and then he shook his head. “It’s not counterfeit.”

“But look at the date. It says nineteen seventy-four. Don’t you think it’s odd that it looks so new?”

“Not really. Somebody could have kept it in a safe deposit box or under a mattress all these years. And sometimes people just like to save money in mint condition.”

“You mean collectors?”

“There’s nothing collectible about this bill, but it could have been some sort of a keepsake, framed and put under glass. When people give money as a gift, they usually come in to get new bills.”

Hannah nodded and reached out to take back her bill.

“What’s the matter?” Doug asked her. “You look a little disappointed.”

“Lisa and I thought maybe we’d stumbled onto a counterfeiting ring. It would have been interesting.”

Doug gave a small, humorless laugh. “I don’t think you want to get involved with something like that. If that bill were counterfeit, you’d have federal agents breathing down your neck in two seconds flat.”

“New customers,” Hannah said with a grin, slipping the bill inside her purse and getting up from her chair. “Thanks, Doug. I guess we’ll never know the story behind that new-old bill. I thought it might be contraband and someone had sat on it for years, afraid to spend it before now.”

“Wait a second, Hannah. You might have something there. Let me check the serial number.”

“What will that tell you?”

“When a bank gets new bills, they come in packaged by denomination and serial number. If this one was stolen in a bank robbery and they took packaged bills from the safe, the bank would have reported the serial numbers to the authorities.”

“And you can check that?”

“Of course. The computer’s in the middle of an automatic backup right now, but I’ve got hard copy of the loot list.”

“Loot list?”

“That’s what we call it. The official title is about twenty words long. It’s a cross-reference index by year and serial number.”

“And it lists money from bank robberies?”

“It lists some of it. If a robber comes in and empties the cash drawer, there’s no record of the serial numbers. But if he takes money from the safe, there is. And it’s not just from bank robberies. It’s also a list of marked money.”

“Like the cops give out when they’re trying to track down a ring of scam artists?”

“That’s right. Hold on a second and I’ll get the printout.”

Hannah poured herself more coffee while Doug was gone. It was so good, she even considered installing a gourmet coffee bar in The Cookie Jar, but she didn’t think that would go over well in Lake Eden. New fads took years to catch on and the residents in Lake Eden would balk at paying three or four dollars of their hard-earned cash for a cup of designer coffee.

“I’ve got it,” Doug said, coming in the door with a large three-ring notebook. “Read off that serial number and I’ll see if it’s in here.”

Hannah gave him the serial number and Doug flipped the pages to the proper section. He ran his fingers down a long line of numbers and then he looked up with an excited expression. “I knew it was a long shot, but it’s in here. Your ten-dollar bill was part of the cash that was stolen from the Redwing City Bank in June of nineteen seventy-four.”

“Stolen money?”

“That’s right. Keep your eye out for more and tell Lisa to do the same. I’ll copy this page and give it to Sheriff Grant. He can have his deputies distribute it to every merchant in town, and we might be able to catch ourselves a bank robber. Think back, Hannah. Do you have any idea who gave you this bill?”

Hannah assumed the most innocent expression she could muster as she shook her head. She remembered what Doug had said about federal agents breathing down her neck, and she wasn’t about to involve her baby sister in a bank robbery investigation until she’d had the chance to talk to her first.

Chapter
Nineteen

O f course Delores had called to invite her to the family party. Once Hannah had fed Moishe, she changed into a pair of old jeans that had become threadbare through frequent washings and were perfect for summer. The waist felt a bit loose and that made her wonder just how many pounds she’d lost.

Hannah glanced in the mirror as she slipped into a cotton pullover sweater with short sleeves. It was in one of her favorite colors, a muted teal that looked good with her red hair. She’d worn it for good until she’d dripped mustard on the front at the volunteer fire department’s picnic last year. The mustard had come out, but the stain remover she’d used had lightened the material. Rather than relegate the sweater to the ragbag, she’d dabbed the stain remover on in a random pattern all over the material, washed it again, and now she had several dozen dime-sized circles of light teal dancing down the front and back of her new “designer” sweater.

It didn’t look half bad, Hannah thought, glancing in the mirror. She skinned her hair back into a ponytail, a style she knew was probably too young for her, but she planned to drive with her windows open and she could ditch the elastic band once she got to the lake. Then she went back to the kitchen to refill Moishe’s bowl for the final time, slung her purse over her shoulder, and hurried down to her truck to drive to Eden Lake.

Twenty minutes later, Hannah found a parking place at the side of the dirt road that ran past the lake cottage that had been in the Swensen family for the past thirty years. It had belonged to her grandparents, who had rented it out every summer for the extra income. When her father had inherited it, he’d done the same. As a child, Hannah had spent two weekends at the cottage every year. One had been at the beginning of May when it was still too cold to set foot in the lake. They’d spent that weekend getting the cabin spruced up and ready for the summer rental season. Hannah’s second summer weekend had been at the tail end of August right after dog days, when the surface of Eden Lake had been covered with algae so thick, Hannah hadn’t been allowed to swim. That time had been spent winterizing the cottage, shutting off the water and bleeding the pipes, covering the screens with heavy plastic to protect them from the icy winter winds, and packing up the dishes and silverware to store for the next summer.

Hannah sighed as she thought back to her childhood. She’d always dreamed of staying at the cottage during the height of the tourist season, when the tiny grocery store was stocked with a dozen flavors of Popsicles, and there would be other kids from fascinating places like Iowa and Wisconsin to swim with. Now she was here, at the height of the season, and she didn’t even own a swimsuit. And she couldn’t have any Popsicles because she was on a diet. Sometimes life just wasn’t fair.

Hannah got out of her truck and walked past Andrea’s Volvo. Her sister and niece were here early. There was Norman’s car, too. And Carrie’s. Delores must have invited the whole extended family. That was good. With more people here, it would be easier for her to pull Michelle off in a corner and ask her about the ten-dollar bill.

As she approached the screen door of the cottage, Hannah sniffed the air. She expected to catch a whiff of Hawaiian Pot Roast, or E-Z Lasagna, her mother’s favorite company dishes. Hannah wasn’t particularly fond of either one, but the fact that she couldn’t eat them made them sound delicious. All she could have was salad and Delores had promised she’d have plenty of that.

Norman walked over to greet her the moment she walked in the door. At first Hannah was puzzled by the relieved expression on his face until she realized that he’d been talking to Delores. No doubt her mother had been asking him all sorts of personal questions about why he was building such a big house and if he had any plans for the future. “Mother’s been giving you the third degree?” she asked.

“You could say that.”

“Then it looks like I got here just in time.”

“In more ways than one,” Norman told her with a smile. “Bill and Mike went to pick up the pizza and they should be back any minute.”

“Did you say they were bringing pizza?”

“Yes, and your mother ordered a low-cal one for you.”

Hannah started to frown. “That’s got be a contradiction in terms. How could a pizza be low-cal?”

“Maybe they put on low-fat cheese?”

“That wouldn’t do it. There’s still all that wonderful crust, and the spicy sauce, and pepperoni, and sausage, and olives, and anchovies, and…”

“Hold it,” Norman said, handing her his handkerchief. “You’re drooling.”

Hannah took it and made a show of wiping her face even though she knew he was teasing. “Pizza is one of my very favorite things and just one bite would blow my diet.”

“Don’t you think you’ve lost enough weight? You’re looking positively skinny.”

“I am?” Hannah stared up at him with a look that was at least a first cousin to adoration.

“I really didn’t think you needed to lose any weight in the first place.”

“You didn’t?” If they’d been alone, Hannah would have grabbed him and given him a big kiss. As it was, she felt grateful tears well up in her eyes and she covered her embarrassment at being so emotional with an attempt at humor. “How’s your eyesight?”

“Twenty-twenty…as long as I wear my glasses.”

“Glasses? But you’re not wearing any…” Hannah stopped and gave him a stern look. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Not entirely. I do need to wear glasses, but I switched to contacts a couple of years ago.”

“Here comes dinner!” Delores called out from her post at the window. “Bill and Mike just drove up. Who wants to run out and help them carry the pizzas in?”

“I do.” Hannah turned on her heel and headed for the door. If she couldn’t eat the pizza, at least she could get in a couple of good sniffs while she carried it in to the table.

After dinner, Hannah carried in the box of assorted cookies she’d brought and Delores got out the rest of the dessert. Her mother’s contribution was a huge tub of ice cream with a whole array of jarred toppings from the Red Owl. Hannah took one look at the fudge sauce and wished she had a full complement of talismans to ward off evil. Since she had nothing, not even a necklace of garlic to protect her, she grabbed Michelle while everyone else was munching cookies and building sundaes.

“Will you walk out on the dock with me?” Hannah asked her. “We need to talk.”

“Sure. I ate so much of that low-cal pizza, I don’t have any room left for dessert.”

“What was on it anyway?” Hannah was curious. Since there had been a big tub of salad, she’d filled up on that.

“Skim-milk mozzarella with sun-dried tomatoes, shredded chicken breast, and asparagus tips. The crust was low-cal too because it was thinner than their regular crust.”

“So you had to eat twice as much to fill up?”

Michelle started to grin. “You’re right. I usually eat two pieces and tonight I ate four.”

Just as Hannah and Michelle were about to go out the door, Andrea saw them and rushed up. “Do you want some company? I’m passing on dessert, too.”

“Come on then,” Hannah told her. “We’re going out to sit on the dock.”

“Oh, good. I’m going to dangle my feet in the water. I ran all over town today and my ankles are swelling.”

“You two go ahead,” Hannah said. “I’ll get the mosquito repellent and meet you down there. They’re really bad this time of night and they’ll eat us alive.”

Hannah sprayed on her repellent as she walked down the steps to the dock. Once she got there, she tossed the spray bottle to Michelle and handed the lotion to Andrea. “I remembered what you said about aerosols, so I brought you some lotion.”

“Thanks, Hannah.” Andrea slapped at a mosquito that had already discovered her arm. “Doc Knight’s got a real thing about it while I’m pregnant. I can’t use hair spray, or perfume, or even cooking spray.”

Hannah laughed. “I don’t think there’s much danger with the cooking spray.”

“That’s true,” Andrea conceded good-naturedly. “Bill uses it for his eggs in the morning, but he always waits until I leave the kitchen.”

“I thought you cooked breakfast for him.” Michelle looked surprised.

“I used to, the first year we were married. I made scrambled eggs every morning, but Bill decided I burned too many frying pans. Now he makes his eggs and I do the toast.”

Hannah felt like asking how much toast Andrea had managed to burn, but she curbed the question and turned to Michelle. “You gave Lisa a ten-dollar bill today, didn’t you?”

“Yes. I stopped by to pick up some cookies for Carly while you were out to lunch.”

“Do you have any idea where you got that bill?”

“I’m not sure.” Michelle thought for a moment and then she shook her head. “I really don’t remember. Why do you need to know?”

“It turns out it was stolen from a bank. Doug Greerson looked it up on a list the banks get.”

Andrea looked surprised. “Bill didn’t say anything about it. Does Sheriff Grant know?”

“Doug said he’d alert him.” Hannah turned back to Michelle. “That’s why it’s so important to know when and where you got it. They want to track it back to the source.”

“I’m pretty sure I didn’t bring it with me. When I got to the bus station in Minneapolis, I had four twenties I got from the bank machine, and a couple of ones.”

“How about your bus ticket?” Andrea asked. “Did you pay for that in cash?”

“Yes. I wish I could remember how much it was. I think it was almost twenty dollars, so I wouldn’t have gotten a ten back in change.”

Andrea took out her cell phone and punched in a number. “Did you buy a round-trip, or a one-way?”

“Round-trip.”

Hannah and Michelle listened to the one-sided conversation as Andrea asked about the ticket. She thanked the person on the other end of the line, hung up, and turned back to them. “It didn’t come from the bus station. A round-trip ticket to Lake Eden is eighteen dollars and change.”

“Then I got it right here in town. But I didn’t buy anything. I’m sure I didn’t. The only store I went into was…”

“Where?” Hannah zeroed in when her sister hesitated.

“The drugstore. I needed two gemstones so I ran to the drugstore and bought a little package of colored rhinestones.”

“Rhinestones?” Andrea made a face. “They’re so tacky. You should have called me if you wanted gemstones. They have some very nice synthetic stones that aren’t expensive. We could have gone out to the mall and…”

“Relax, Andrea,” Hannah interrupted. “Michelle didn’t need good stones. They were just for her teeth.”

“Her teeth?”

“Her fake teeth. She’ll explain later.” Hannah turned back to Michelle. “How much were the rhinestones?”

“Less than ten dollars. And I must have paid with a twenty. That means I would have gotten a ten and some coins back in change.”

“Makes sense,” Hannah said, considering the possibilities. She wasn’t sure how it all tied in, but Rhonda had worked at the drugstore. Maybe the fact that some of the stolen money had ended up there didn’t have anything to do with Rhonda’s murder, but it was certainly interesting.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Andrea turned to her.

“Yes,” Hannah said quickly. “We need to find out more about that old bank robbery.”

“Hello down there!”

All three sisters turned to see Norman standing at the top of the steps that led to the dock.

“Is it okay if I come down? Or is this a sisterly bonding moment?”

“We’re already bonded,” Hannah said with a laugh. “That happened the first time Mother tried to make us eat canned peas. Come on.”

Once Norman had joined them on the dock, Hannah tossed him the mosquito repellent. “You’d better use this. The mosquitoes are thick tonight.”

“Thanks, but I don’t need it.”

“What do you mean, you don’t need it? They’re bloodthirsty. I thought I was going to need a transfusion before I could get the cap off the bottle.”

“Mosquitoes don’t bite me.”

“What?!”

“It’s true,” Norman said and he looked perfectly sincere. “I don’t know why, but mosquitoes just leave me alone.”

“Do you take some kind of vitamin supplement?” Michelle asked.

“No.”

“How about soap?” Andrea suggested. “Do you use a special kind?”

“Just whatever’s on sale at CostMart.”

Hannah began to frown. As far as she knew, mosquitoes bit everyone. They certainly regarded her as a five-course dinner, complete with dessert and beverage. Norman must be putting them on and she’d call his bluff. “I don’t believe you, Norman. Roll up your sleeve and stick out your arm. I want to see this for myself.”

“Okay,” Norman said agreeably, rolling up his sleeve.

All three sisters watched as a small cloud of mosquitoes descended, each of them emitting a high-pitched, irritating whine. One of them almost landed on Norman’s bare arm, but it veered away at the last minute.

“See?” Norman grinned. “They just don’t like me.”

Hannah gave up in defeat. It was true. Mosquitoes didn’t like Norman. But could she love someone the mosquitoes didn’t like? She’d have to think about that later. Right now, they still had the problem of Michelle’s ten-dollar bill to solve.

“I guess I’d better bring you up to date,” Hannah told him. “Michelle got a ten-dollar bill today and we found out it was part of the loot from a bank robbery.”

Norman listened while Hannah explained. “And you need to find out more about that old bank robbery?” he asked.

“That’s right.”

“And it happened in Redwing in nineteen seventy-four?”

“That’s what Doug Greerson told me.”

“Then it’s easy. It must have been a lead story in the local newspapers at the time. I’ll check to see if any of them have archives on-line.”

“You can do that?” Hannah was impressed. Her computer skills were limited.

“No problem. I’ve got my laptop in the car. Do you want me to get on-line right now?”

“Not now.” Hannah shook her head. “I want to keep this private.”

“Private, as in not telling Bill or Mike?”

“That’s right. I’m already involved in investigating Rhonda’s murder and they’re okay with that. But if they find out that Michelle is the one who had that ten-dollar bill, they’ll have to tell the Feds. Michelle doesn’t need that. They’ll ask her a million useless questions and ruin her vacation.”

“You’ve got a point. How about if I come over to your condo with my laptop when the party breaks up?”

“That’d be great.” Hannah looked up as she heard footsteps. Mike and Bill were coming down the stairs.

Bill was the first on the dock and he walked over to Andrea. “We’ve got to take off, honey. We just got word that the autopsy report’s in and we need to go over some things with Doc. Tracey wants to know if it’s okay if she stays out here overnight. Delores and Carrie promised to play a board game with her.”

“Tell her it’s fine. She loves to stay overnight with Grandma.”

“That’ll work out perfectly,” Michelle said. “Tracey can have my bed and then Mother won’t be alone.”

Hannah turned to her youngest sister in surprise. “Alone? Where are you going?”

“I’ve got a date.”

“Don’t let him take you to any isolated spots,” Mike jumped into the conversation. “We still haven’t caught Rhonda’s killer.”

Michelle laughed. “You don’t have to worry about me. I’ll be perfectly safe.”

“Are you sure?” Mike still looked concerned.

“I’m positive. I’m going out with Lonnie Murphy.”

Hannah stifled a laugh. That ought to take the wind out of Mike’s sails. Lonnie was the newest hire at the Winnetka County Sheriff’s Department and Mike liked him. Lonnie’s older brother, Rick, had been with the department for three years, and Mike had told Hannah that eventually the two Murphy brothers might make a good detective team.

“You said Tracey could have your bed,” Mike reminded Michelle. “Are you planning to stay out all night?”

“Of course not, but Lonnie and I went to high school together and we’ve got a lot of catching up to do. It could be a late night. I don’t want to wake Mother when I come in, so I was going to ask Hannah if I could stay with her.”

“Of course,” Hannah agreed quickly, before Mike could think about giving any other dating advice.

“I don’t like leaving you alone, honey.” Bill sat down and slipped his arm around Andrea’s shoulders.

“I won’t be alone. I’ll drive over to Hannah’s. When you’re through working, you can get Mike to drop you off there and we’ll go home in my car.”

“It could be three or four hours. We’re meeting with Doc and then we have to catch up on the paperwork.”

Andrea reached up to pat Bill’s chest. “Don’t worry about me, honey. If I get tired, I can sack out on Hannah’s couch.”

Hannah wasn’t sure how she felt as she listened to this tender exchange. On the one hand, it was nice to have someone who was concerned about you. But on the other hand, you couldn’t ever feel truly independent. Marriage was a trade-off. You gave up some things and you gained others. Since Hannah knew she’d balk at the trade-off aspect, it must mean that she wasn’t ready for that walk down the aisle, at least not quite yet.

Chapter
Twenty

H annah reached out for Moishe, who seemed fascinated with Norman’s computer and was sitting on the coffee table, pawing at the keyboard. “Guard your computer, Norman. I’ll carry him in the kitchen and fill his food bowl. Then he might leave you alone.”

“He’s okay. He’s just curious.” Norman scooped Moishe up and settled him down on his lap.

“He shouldn’t be that close to your computer,” Andrea advised, waving away some orange and white cat hairs that were floating around in the air. “He’s shedding.”

“That’s what cats do. It’s not his fault.” Norman scratched Moishe behind the ears with one hand and typed with the other. “I’ll blow out the keyboard with compressed air when I get home.”

“Are there any more leftover cookies, Hannah?” Andrea picked up an empty bag and crumpled it.

“No, but I’m baking fresh. Let me go see how they’re coming.”

Hannah stepped into the kitchen and sniffed the air. The new cookies smelled wonderful, a blend of cinnamon, nutmeg, and a secret ingredient that Norman and Andrea would never be able to identify. It was so unusual, no one would ever think of it and it would remain a mystery to anyone who tasted the cookies. And that’s what she’d call them, Mystery Cookies.

As if on cue, the oven timer beeped and Hannah opened the door to take out the sheet of cookies. She’d gone into the kitchen to mix up this batch right after she’d noticed that Norman and Andrea were going through her bags of leftover cookies like starving wolves at a sheep convention. At first she’d planned to make Chocolate Chip Crunches, but she’d been out of chips and cornflakes. Peanut Butter Melts had been out, since the jar of peanut butter was nearly empty. Her Old-Fashioned Sugar Cookies would have worked, but they required chilling time and the wolves in the living room might attack if their stomachs weren’t placated. She’d stared at her pantry shelf for a moment to assess her stock of ingredients, and then she’d flipped through her cookbook for the recipe Grandma Ingrid had called Red Spice Cake and adapted it for cookies on the fly.

Once Hannah had transferred the hot cookies to a rack and slipped another pan in the oven, she put the dozen cool cookies she’d made on a plate and carried them into the living room. “Here. These are ready and I’ve got more on the way.”

“Thanks, Hannah.” Andrea took a cookie with her left hand and munched while she continued to take notes from Norman’s computer screen. “These are really good. They’re moist and cinnamony and…is that a word?”

“Is what a word?”

“Cinnamony.”

Hannah laughed. “If it’s not, it ought to be.”

“Mmm…” Andrea reached out for another cookie. “What are these?”

“Spice cookies. I’m going to call them Mystery Cookies.”

“That’s a good name.” Norman grabbed a cookie before Andrea could take her third. “What’s the mystery?”

“There’s a secret ingredient and I don’t think anyone can guess what it is. Except maybe Andrea.”

“Me?” Andrea looked surprised. “How would I guess? You know I don’t bake.”

You don’t cook, either , Hannah thought, but she didn’t say it. Andrea had taken enough heat over the years about her lack of culinary skills. “Just think about Grandma Ingrid’s Red Spice Cake and you’ll know.”

“But that was made with…” Andrea stopped abruptly and began to grin. “I think I get it. Does this mystery ingredient come in a red and white can?”

“Yes, and don’t tell anybody. I’ll have to tell Lisa because she’ll be helping me mix the dough, but I’ll swear her to secrecy.”

“I’ll never tell. I promise.” Andrea raised her hand to her chest and gestured. “Cross my heart and hope to die. I wonder where that comes from.”

“It’s a reference to the crucifixion. It’s like knock on wood . That’s a reference to the wooden cross.”

“Really?” Norman turned to stare at her. “How do you know that?”

Hannah shrugged. “I read it somewhere a long time ago. Little things like that stick in my head.”

“If you had a computer you could find out all sorts of things like that on-line,” Norman told her.

Hannah sighed. They’d had this discussion before. Norman was trying to pull her kicking and screaming into cyberspace. “Why would I need to find it out if I already know it?”

“You don’t know it all. It’s fun doing research on the Web and it’s way past time for you to get a computer. As a matter of fact, I think you should have two.”

“One for each hand?” Hannah quipped.

“No, one for here and one for The Cookie Jar.”

“But why? I’m doing just fine without a computer.”

“You could have a master file of your recipes,” Andrea jumped into the fray. “Then you wouldn’t have to make copies and keep them in both places. If you made a change in a recipe at work, you could send it to your computer at home. When you got home, you could print it out and then you’d always have the updated version.”

“That’s what I do now. I just run down to the drugstore and make a copy and bring it home.”

“But that’s the whole point.” Andrea was insistent. “You wouldn’t have to run down to the drugstore. You’d be saving money, too. That copier down there is expensive.”

Hannah laughed. “And two computers aren’t?”

“Not as expensive as you think,” Norman took over the argument. “They’re practically giving away last year’s models. Since you don’t need it for anything fancy, you wouldn’t need to be state-of-the-art.”

“You’re ganging up on me,” Hannah accused them. “And here I am, feeding you cookies. That’s not nice.”

Andrea reached out for her fourth cookie. “You’re right. I wish you had a printer at home, though. Then I wouldn’t have to copy all this stuff off Norman’s screen. It’s like copying off the blackboard at school and I hated doing that. I always got a terrible headache.”

That’s because you refused to wear your glasses , Hannah thought, but she wasn’t mean-spirited enough to say it.

“Of course, that’s because I wouldn’t wear my glasses. I thought they made me look ugly,” Andrea went on. “That’s one of the things I like about using computers. If I get close enough, I don’t have to wear them. I think I hear your timer, Hannah.”

Andrea was right. Hannah got up to take another sheet of cookies from the oven. She stuck in another sheet, set the timer again, and when she came back, she found Andrea and Norman smiling broadly. “You found something?”

“Bingo!” Andrea said, and held up Hannah’s notebook. “I copied it all down for you. There were two men and they stole over two hundred thousand dollars. One was apprehended that night, but the other one got away with the money. He was caught a week later, trying to cross the Canadian border, but he only had five thousand dollars with him and he refused to say where he’d hidden the rest. Since one of the bank guards was killed in the robbery, both men were charged with murder and sentenced to life in prison.”

“Which prison?”

“That’s the one thing the article doesn’t say. I can find out, though. First thing tomorrow morning, I’ll call the prisons and ask if the robbers are there.”

“I hate to put a damper on your spirits, but I don’t think that’ll work.” Norman shook his head. “Prison officials don’t give out that kind of information on the phone.”

Hannah laughed. “They don’t, not usually, but you’ve never seen Andrea in action.”

“That’s right.” Andrea preened a bit. “I’m a real estate agent. We’re trained to get confidential information out of people.”

The doorbell rang and Hannah glanced at her watch. It was only eleven and Michelle had said she’d be late.

“Look through the peephole before you open the door,” Andrea advised.

“I can’t use it at night. The outside light’s in the wrong place and all I can see is a silhouette.”

“Then leave the chain on,” Norman suggested.

Hannah thought it was silly, but she did leave the chain on. After all, there was a killer on the loose.

“It’s me, Hannah,” Michelle said, waving at Hannah through the crack in the door.

“You’re early. Did something go wrong on your date?”

“No. Or maybe that’s a yes. Lonnie got called back to the station.”

“Did they catch Rhonda’s killer?”

“No, nothing like that. Lonnie’s the youngest deputy and they call him in to do all the grunt work.”

“That’s too bad,” Hannah said, knowing exactly what Lonnie was going through. The most recent hire in any business had to do all the things the veteran employees didn’t want to do. “Wait just a second. I have to shut the door to take off the chain.”

When the chain was off and the door was fully open, Michelle stepped inside. She made a maneuver that would have made any running back proud, and neatly blocked Moishe’s headlong rush to the door. “Hi, Moishe. You remember me from last night, don’t you?”

“He remembers the smoked salmon you brought him for Christmas. Listen to that. He’s purring already.”

“I don’t have any salmon this trip, but I do have this.” Michelle reached into her purse and brought out a cellophane wrapper with a long string tied around it.

“He really doesn’t play, Michelle,” Hannah said, as Michelle dropped the wrapper on the rug.

“He’ll play with this. Just watch.”

Hannah watched as Michelle began to walk forward, tugging the wrapper behind her. And then the cat Hannah had thought was non-playful began to chase the wrapper. Moishe pounced, Michelle jerked the wrapper away, and then they did it all over again, all the way to the sofa where Andrea and Norman were sitting.

“I’ll be!” Hannah said, heading for the kitchen to take the last pan of cookies out of the oven. She’d spent a fortune on high-priced kitty toys when Moishe had first moved in with her, and he hadn’t played with any of them. Now it seemed that all she’d needed was a crumpled cellophane wrapper and a piece of ordinary string.

When Hannah came back with a fresh plate of cookies, Michelle dug right in. She ate two in rapid succession and then she gave Hannah a thumbs-up. “These are great. I waited for you to get back so I could tell you all together. The reason Lonnie had to go back to the station is that Freddy Sawyer got in trouble tonight.”

“Is Freddy okay?” Hannah asked, imagining the worst. Freddy had told her that Jed was teaching him to fight.

“He’s fine now, but he got hauled in for drunk and disorderly. Jed promised that it would never happen again and they let him off with a warning.”

“I didn’t think Freddy drank.” Andrea looked puzzled.

“He didn’t before his cousin got here,” Hannah said with a sigh. “But now that Jed’s in the picture, he’s teaching Freddy all sorts of things that aren’t good for him.”

“I got the same impression,” Michelle said. “Lonnie and I sobered Freddy up and then we drove him home to sleep it off. Lonnie had to go back to the station to file the paperwork, so he dropped me off here.”

“I’m sorry your date didn’t work out,” Norman said. “Lonnie seems like a really nice guy.”

“You know him?” Michelle looked surprised.

“He’s been coming in every Saturday morning since he got his dental insurance. It’s part of the county heath package. His teeth were in good shape to start with, but we did a few things to correct his bite.”

“Right. You never know when you have to bite someone in the line of duty,” Hannah joked, and then she turned to Michelle. “Tell us what happened with Freddy. Was he in a bar fight?”

“No, nothing like that. He was riding in the back of that pickup truck Jed just bought and mooning people as his cousin passed them on the road.”

Hannah was shocked. It wasn’t really a serious offense since no one had been hurt, but it would offend a lot of people. “As far as I know, Freddy’s never been in trouble with the law before. And that doesn’t sound like something he’d think of to do, all by himself.”

“You’re right. According to Lonnie, the girl Freddy was drinking with in the bar admitted that she’d egged him on. She said she thought it was funny.”

Hannah felt sick. “Freddy’s drinking, getting involved with girls in bars, and mooning people on the road? If this is Jed’s way of teaching him to be a man, I don’t like it one bit!”

“Neither do I,” Norman said. “Freddy did some work for me when I was remodeling the clinic. He was always a good, responsible worker and he seemed a little shy to me. This just doesn’t sound like it’s in character for him.”

“You’re right,” Andrea agreed. “Jed’s the one who’s giving Freddy ideas. And now that Freddy’s mother is dead, there’s no one to really look out for him. I don’t think Mrs. Sawyer approved of Jed. He never came around when she was alive.”

“I’ll try to talk to Freddy tomorrow,” Norman promised, setting his laptop in its carrying case and zipping it up. “Jed has a lot of influence with him, but that’s because we let him. We’re all too busy with our own lives and we don’t take enough time to really get involved.”

After Norman had said his good-byes to Andrea and Michelle, Hannah walked him to the door. She followed him out on the landing, closed the door behind them, and gave him a big hug. “You’re a good man, Norman.”

“Thanks, but I didn’t do that much. Looking up things on-line is simple.”

“Not that. I was talking about Freddy. It’s really good of you to offer to get involved.”

“But you’re involved. You always take time to talk to Freddy, even when you’re busy. There’s no reason why I can’t find the time to help him, too.”

“That’s what I mean. You’re a good man.” Hannah hugged him again.

Norman’s arms tightened around her and he started to grin. “Is this your idea of a reward for good behavior?”

“Maybe. What’s wrong with that?”

“Absolutely nothing. I just think I need a little bigger reward.” Norman tipped her face up and kissed her.

It was a sweet kiss and Hannah didn’t want it to end. It felt good to be this close to Norman. It was comforting, and warm, and nice, and exciting, too. And while her bones didn’t melt and her legs didn’t tremble in the same way they did when Mike kissed her, she didn’t have that little doubt in the back of her mind about how many other women he’d kissed in exactly this way.

“Good night, Norman,” Hannah said, when their kiss had ended. “Thank you.”

“For the kiss?”

“Yes. And for being you.”

Norman smiled and started down the stairs, but he stopped halfway and turned to look back at her. “I’m glad I’m me, especially tonight. I really don’t like the idea of you kissing somebody that’s not me.”

Mystery Cookies

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F.,
with rack in middle position.

½ cup melted butter (1 stick)

3½ cups white sugar

2 beaten eggs (just whip them up with a fork)

1 can condensed tomato soup (the regular plain kind, not “Cream Of Tomato” or “Tomato with Basil” or anything else fancy—I use Campbell’s)

2 teaspoons cinnamon

2 teaspoons nutmeg (if you grind your own, use 1 teaspoon instead of 2)

2 teaspoons baking soda

2 teaspoons salt

2 cups raisins (either golden or regular)

2 cups chopped walnuts (measure after you chop them)

4½ cups flour (no need to sift)

Microwave the butter in your mixing bowl to melt it. Add the sugar, let it cool a bit, and mix in the beaten eggs. Open a can of condensed tomato soup, add that to your mixing bowl, and then mix it all up. Stir in the cinnamon, nutmeg, baking soda, and salt. Then add the raisins and the walnuts, and stir. Measure the flour and add it in one-cup increments, mixing after each addition.

Let the dough sit for ten minutes or so. Drop the dough by teaspoons onto a greased or Pammed cookie sheet, 12 to a standard sheet. (If the dough is too sticky to scoop, you can chill it for a few minutes, or dip your teaspoon into a glass of cold water.)

Bake at 350 degrees F. for 10 to 12 minutes or until the cookies are golden brown on top. Let them sit on the cookie sheet for a minute or two (no longer or they’ll stick) , and then transfer them to a wire rack for complete cooling.

A batch of Mystery Cookies yields about 10 dozen. (I know that’s a lot, but they’ll be gone before you know it.) They’re soft and chewy and a real favorite. (And if you don’t tell the kids that they’re getting a helping of tomatoes with their cookies, I guarantee they’ll never guess.)

Chapter
Twenty-One

“I t’s eleven-thirty. Aren’t you tired?” Hannah asked her sisters when she came back into her living room.

“Not me.” Michelle shook her head.

“How about you, Andrea?” Hannah turned to her. “You’re the one who’s sleeping for two.”

Andrea laughed. “That’s eating for two. There’s no such thing as sleeping for two. The baby sleeps whenever he wants to. It doesn’t matter whether I’m awake or not.”

“Are you sure you’re not tired?”

“You sound like Bill. Really, Hannah. I’m not a bit tired.”

Michelle looked confused. “But I thought pregnancy was so tiring.”

“It is, in the last couple of months. But that’s when you’re carrying around all that extra weight. I’ve only gained five pounds so far. My feet get tired if I stand all day, but that’s the only part of me that does. I actually have more energy now than I did before I got pregnant.”

“I’m a real lightweight when it comes to pulling all-nighters, like when I have to study for a test. Maybe I should get pregnant and then I’d have more energy.” Michelle noticed the shocked expression on her sisters’ faces and she giggled. “Just kidding. I want to wait to get pregnant until I’m as old as Hannah.”

Hannah groaned. She wasn’t sure if that was an insult, but it sure felt like it.

“That’s a bad idea. Don’t wait that long,” Andrea advised.

Hannah groaned again. This time she was sure it was an insult. “Forget about my biological clock. Mother’s already got that covered. If we’re going to stay up and talk, I’ll make us some hot chocolate. Andrea? You can bring Michelle up to speed on everything we learned about the robbery case.”

It took a while to make the hot chocolate, because Hannah made it the old-fashioned way with cocoa, milk, and sugar. Once she’d poured it into two mugs and refilled her own mug with no-calorie coffee, she carried them back out to the living room. She caught the tail end of the conversation when she entered the room.

“…like him a lot, but there’s someone at school I’m dating.” Michelle turned to smile as Hannah set down her mug of hot chocolate and went on. “It’s not exclusive, but we’re really good friends, if you know what I mean.”

“How good?” Andrea asked, taking her mug from Hannah.

Hannah winced as she took her place on the sofa. She’d apparently missed a conversation about Michelle’s boyfriends and it sounded as if Andrea was grilling their baby sister.

“Not that good.” Michelle looked a bit exasperated. “I’m not sleeping with him, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Tell me about him. Is he a student?”

“Yes. He’s twenty-four, he’s going for his M.B.A., and his name is Raj.”

It was time for her to step in and Hannah did it with a rush. She wasn’t sure how Andrea felt about inter-cultural dating. “Will you ask Raj if his mother has a good recipe for curry? I know most families from India have their own blend of spices and I don’t really like the bottled curry powder you can buy in the stores.”

Michelle laughed. “Raj’s family isn’t from India. His full name is Roger Allen Jensen. ‘Raj’ is just a nickname they got from his initials.”

“Oh,” Hannah said, feeling slightly foolish. Since she didn’t enjoy that feeling, it was time to change the subject and fast. “I still can’t believe that Freddy mooned people on the road, and I’m really disturbed about Jed. I wouldn’t be a bit surprised to find out that he knows something about the stolen money and he somehow got his hands on it.”

“Do you think so?” Michelle asked, looking relieved that the boyfriend discussion was over.

“It makes some kind of sense, especially if you got that ten-dollar bill at the drugstore. Freddy showed me his new sports watch today and I know the drugstore carries watches like that. Freddy told me it cost less than ten dollars and Jed gave him the money to buy it.”

“But a lot of people shop at the drugstore,” Andrea pointed out.

“Wait. There’s more. Jed told me he used to work on a maintenance crew at Stillwater Prison. He said he got some back pay, some sort of retroactive raise, but I don’t believe it.”

“Do you think Jed was a prisoner?” Andrea asked.

“No. Mike checked it out and he wasn’t. But he could have met the bank robbers while he was working there and they could have told him where they stashed the money.”

Andrea shrugged. “I guess it’s not impossible.”

“I hope Hannah’s right,” Michelle said. “Is it illegal to spend stolen money when you’re not the one who stole it?”

“I think so, if you know it’s stolen.” Hannah looked at Andrea. “Do you know?”

“It’s got to be. But even if Jed claims he didn’t know the money was stolen, it still might be enough to separate him from Freddy, at least for a while.”

“That would be good,” Michelle said with a sigh. “Lonnie and I tried to explain things to Freddy when we took him home, but I don’t think we did any good. Freddy still doesn’t realize that Jed was the one who got him into trouble in the first place.”

Hannah sighed. “That figures. Freddy’s always been very loyal and trusting. It’ll take a lot to convince him that Jed isn’t a good guy. He’s honest, though. If he finds out that Jed’s been spending stolen money, that might be enough to change his opinion.”

“That’s a good place to start.” Andrea motioned to Hannah. “Hand me my purse, Hannah. My cell phone has free long distance. I’ll call Stillwater and see if the two bank robbers are there.”

“Now?” Hannah stopped in the act of reaching for Andrea’s purse. “But the prison offices will be closed.”

“I know and that’s just perfect. Whoever answers the phone might not know the rules and they’ll give me the information I need.”

“But won’t they just tell you to call back when the office opens up in the morning?”

Andrea shook her head. “They might tell somebody else that, but not me. I’ve got a perfect reason for calling right now and they’re going to fall over backwards getting me what I need. Now will you please hand me my purse?”

Hannah gave Andrea her purse, watched as her sister took out her cell phone, listened as she got the right number from directory assistance, and came very close to crossing her fingers as Andrea began to speak to someone at the prison. If Andrea could verify that the bank robbers were in Stillwater Prison, they’d be one step closer to proving that Jed was trafficking in stolen money.

“I’m really sorry to call so late, but I’m trying to balance my mother’s checkbook and I noticed she sent a check to a man by the name of Loren Urlanski.” Andrea paused and winked at them. “That’s right. Urlanski. He’s supposedly an inmate at Stillwater and my mother made a contribution to his appeal fund. Since it’s a fairly large check, I wanted to make sure that Mr. Urlanski is really an inmate.” Andrea paused again and then she smiled. “Of course. I’ll be happy to hold while you check.”

“You did it!” Michelle whispered, gazing at Andrea in awe.

Andrea shook her head. “Not quite yet. But he said he’d check the computer.”

Hannah just shook her head. Andrea could lie like a trooper when the occasion warranted.

“Yes, I’m here,” Andrea said, speaking into the phone again. “He’s not? Are you sure?” She paused to make a note in her book and then she continued. “How about David Aspen? My mother also contributed to his appeal fund. Could you check that name for me?”

Hannah grabbed Andrea’s pen as she waited and scribbled a note to her sister. It said, Transferred? Dead? Paroled? Andrea glanced at it and turned back to the phone. “He’s not, either? That’s exactly what I was afraid of. How about if they were transferred? Or if they died? Or if they’re out on parole? Is there any way your computer can tell that?”

Hannah held her breath as she waited for the answer. If neither bank robber had been an inmate at Stillwater, their theory was a washout.

“I see. Well, thank you so much for checking. I really appreciate it. I’ll turn these canceled checks over to the proper authorities in the morning. Obviously somebody is running one of those scams that targets the elderly.”

Hannah waited until Andrea hung up and then she started to laugh. “The elderly? If Mother had heard that, you wouldn’t have a chance to get elderly.”

“You’re right. She’d kill me.” Andrea grinned from ear to ear. “But she’s never going to find out about it…right?”

“Right,” Michelle said.

“Absolutely,” Hannah agreed. “Thanks for checking on it, Andrea. You were incredible.”

“Anytime. What do you want me to do next?”

“I don’t know.” Hannah sighed deeply. “My theory about Jed is blown. If the two bank robbers were never at Stillwater, Jed couldn’t have met them there. It’s a shame. I really wanted him to be the one who was passing that stolen money.”

“Me, too,” Michelle said. “He’s a jerk.”

“I know, but I guess not every jerk is a criminal.” Hannah picked up her notebook and paged through it. “We’re spinning our wheels with this bank robbery thing, especially when we can’t prove it has anything to do with Jed or with Rhonda’s murder. Maybe we’d better tell Bill and Mike what we know and drop it.”

When her alarm went off the next morning, Hannah had to squelch the urge to throw it across the room. The only thing that stopped her was that she didn’t have the energy to lift her hand. It had been almost one in the morning by the time Bill had come to collect Andrea and close to one-thirty by the time she’d gotten Michelle settled in the guest room. It would be a two-pots-of-coffee morning before she was alert enough to drive to work.

“That new pillow had better come in soon,” Hannah grumbled, rubbing her neck as she crawled out of bed. She’d ended up with the foam pillow again because she’d been too tired to dislodge Moishe from hers.

After a quick shower that eased some of the pain in her neck, Hannah dressed in cotton pants and a short-sleeved top. She slipped her feet into a pair of moccasins and padded to the kitchen with Moishe, who was following on the trail of his breakfast. Once she’d filled his food bowl and given him fresh water, Hannah poured her first cup of coffee, grabbed her master file of recipes, and sat down at the table to page through it while she woke up. Today was the day before the Fourth, and she still hadn’t decided what type of dessert to bring to the potluck picnic and barbecue.

Long minutes passed while Hannah paged and sipped. When the hands of her apple-shaped kitchen clock approached five o’clock, the time she’d decided to leave for work, she was no closer to deciding which dessert to bring than she’d been before she’d started. She might have actually welcomed the diversion of a morning call from her mother, but it was too early, even for Delores. Hannah finished the first cup of coffee from the second pot and poured the rest in her insulated car coffee caddy. She wrote a quick note for Michelle, telling her to come down to the shop when she woke up, and propped it up against the saltshaker where she’d be sure to see it. Then she refilled Moishe’s food bowl for the final time, slung her purse over her shoulder, and stepped out into the muggy early morning air.

The air outside was like a sauna and Hannah imagined that she could hear steam hissing up as the water hit the rocks. It would be another scorcher today. If this heat wave didn’t let up before tomorrow, the students in Jordan High’s marching band would be dropping like flies in their uniforms at the parade.

Hannah drove through the still morning with her windows down, attempting to catch every breath of wind. Crickets chirped in the fields, somewhere a cow was lowing, and several frogs hopped dangerously close to her wheels as they crossed the road to a pond on the opposite side of the road.

The sun was just beginning to peep over the horizon when Hannah parked in back of The Cookie Jar. The first thing she did after she unlocked the door was to beat a path straight to the air conditioner and turn it on full blast. Then she got down to the business of baking the cookie dough that she’d mixed up with Lisa before they’d left the shop the previous night.

In less than an hour, Hannah was very grateful for the cool air that circulated in her kitchen. With the ovens baking and cookies cooling on the racks, it was warm, but not hot. It made her wonder how she’d ever managed without her window unit.

When Lisa came in, at seventy-thirty, she was smiling. Hannah took one glance at her partner’s happy face and was instantly curious. “What’s up? Did Herb propose?”

“No, it’s Dad. He’s Uncle Sam!”

“What?”

“The Seniors Center rented him a costume and Dad’s leading his whole group in the parade. He’s going to be the best Uncle Sam they ever had!” Lisa stopped and frowned slightly. “That’s strange, Hannah.”

“What’s strange?”

“I just remembered something. Dad got all excited when I got to be the Easter Bunny in my second-grade play. He told all his friends that I was going to be the best Easter Bunny they ever had. And now I’m doing the same thing for him, just like I’m his proud parent. I guess it’s true that roles get reversed when you get older.”

“I guess so.” Hannah tried to think of something to say to cheer Lisa up. She’d been smiling, but now she looked sad. “You should take some pictures of your dad and his group in the parade. They might like to put them up on the bulletin board at the center.”

Lisa started to smile again. “That’s a great idea. I already bought a disposable camera to take pictures of our float.”

“How’s it coming?” Hannah asked. She wasn’t about to miss a golden opportunity to see if she could find out more about The Cookie Jar float.

“It’s almost finished. Tracey’s class is putting on the final touches today. It’s absolutely precious, but that’s all I’m allowed to say.”

“But can’t you just tell me…”

“No,” Lisa interrupted, grinning widely. “You’ll see it tomorrow at the parade.”

Hannah recognized the stubborn set of Lisa’s chin. She could beg and plead, but she wouldn’t get any more information. “Delores and Carrie are coming to watch the parade with us, and they can help us take pictures of your dad and the seniors. Andrea can help, too. Take some money out of the till and run down to the drugstore as soon as they open to get more disposable cameras.”

“Thanks, Hannah. We should get lots of good pictures that way.”

“Even if we don’t, we’ve always got Norman as a backup. He’ll be here with his own camera.”

Lisa smiled happily. “I’m really looking forward to tomorrow. I love the parade and the whole celebration out at Eden Lake. Have you decided what dessert we’re going to bring?”

“Not yet. I tried to think of something special this morning, but I’m fresh out of ideas.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Lisa offered. “You’ve got enough on your mind with Rhonda’s murder. What did you find out about that ten-dollar bill I gave you yesterday? Did Mr. Greerson think it was counterfeit?”

“Sit down for a second and I’ll tell you.” Hannah gestured toward a stool at the workstation. And then she told Lisa all about the robbery and the stolen money that had surfaced in Lake Eden.

Lisa’s eyes were round with surprise by the time Hannah finished. “I guess a lot happened after I went home last night!”

“There’s more,” Hannah said, and told her about Freddy Sawyer’s drunk and disorderly charge.

“This just gets stranger and stranger.” Lisa shook her head. “We’ve had a mooning, a murder, and money turning up from an old bank robbery, all in one week.”

“People who think small-town life is boring ought to move to Lake Eden!”

“I guess,” Lisa said, and then she began to frown. “Do you think all those things could be related somehow?”

“I can’t find a connection. And believe me, I tried. I’m giving up on the stolen money and concentrating on Rhonda’s murder. I really don’t have a clue, so far.”

“Maybe you should tell me everything you know,” Lisa suggested. “It’ll put your thoughts in order and I might be able to catch something you missed.”

“You think so?”

“It’s possible. It could be a little like walking into a room where someone’s doing a jigsaw puzzle. Sometimes you spot the piece they’re looking for right off the bat.”

“Fresh eyes?”

“That’s it. Except this time it’s fresh ears.”

“It’s certainly worth a try.” Hannah gave Lisa a smile. “Go put on the coffee and when you come back, we’ll finish the baking. And while we work, we’ll talk bloody murder.”

Chapter
Twenty-Two

B y the time Hannah was through telling Lisa everything except the identity of Rhonda’s boyfriend, the cookies were baked and the display jars behind the counter were filled. The big urn of coffee had perked, and Hannah and Lisa sat down at their favorite table in the back of the coffee shop to take a break.

“Well?” Hannah turned to her partner. “Do you think I missed anything?”

“No, but I can’t help thinking about Ron LaSalle. Remember what you said when he was murdered?”

“I said a lot of things.” Hannah sighed. Thinking about her favorite Cozy Cow deliveryman still made her sad.

“But you pointed out that Ron’s only mistake was being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Or is it the wrong place at the right time? Or the right place at the wrong time? Or…”

“It doesn’t matter,” Hannah interrupted her. “I know what you mean. Do you think that’s what happened to Rhonda?”

“Maybe. What if the killer was in the basement and Rhonda went down there and caught him doing something he didn’t want anyone else to know he was doing? If that happened, he might have…”

“Killed Rhonda to keep her from talking,” Hannah finished Lisa’s sentence for her. “But what was the killer doing in Mrs. Voelker’s basement in the first place?”

“I don’t know, unless he was looking for antiques to steal, or something like that. You were in the basement. What was down there, anyway?”

“The only things I saw were cobwebs, dust, moldy junk, and shelves of old preserves.”

Lisa shrugged. “That sounds like a perfectly ordinary basement to me. How about the furnace room?”

“Not counting the grave and Rhonda’s body, there wasn’t much there. There was the furnace, of course, and one wall had some homemade shelves for jams and jellies. A couple jars of jam were broken and there was glass on the floor.”

“Are you sure that’s all there was?”

“Pretty sure. But once I spotted Rhonda’s body, I didn’t look around at much else.” Hannah thought about it for a moment. “You’ve got a point, Lisa. I should take a second look.”

“How are you going to do that? Isn’t the whole house taped off as a crime scene?”

“Yes, but that shouldn’t be a problem since I don’t have to go inside. There’s a window in the furnace room and I can take a peek through the glass.”

“Why don’t you take pictures?” Lisa suggested. “Then both of us could look at the crime scene.”

“Good idea. I’ll run home and get my camera.”

“I’ve got the disposable I bought last night. It’s still in a bag in my car. You can use that.”

It didn’t take Lisa long to return with the camera. Hannah examined it and began to frown. It had a built-in flash that went off with every picture. That could present a problem, especially since she’d be taking pictures through the glass.

“What’s wrong?” Lisa asked, noticing Hannah’s frown.

“I have to figure out some way to block the flash so it won’t glare off the windowpane.”

Lisa jumped up again. “You can mask it with electrical tape. We’ve got some in the kitchen drawer.”

Once the camera was modified, Hannah set off for the Voelker place. She’d heard that a deputy had been stationed there to keep out the ghoul-seekers who wanted a peek at the crime scene, and she’d armed herself with a half-dozen cookies and a cup of takeout coffee. She planned to present the deputy with an early morning snack and then give him her excuse for driving out. Since the Voelker place was a good ten minutes away, she’d have plenty of time to dream up something convincing before she got there.

Hannah gave a relieved sigh as she parked at the side of the driveway and spotted Lonnie’s older brother, Rick Murphy, sitting in a wicker chair on the front porch. Rick loved her Short Stack Cookies. He’d be so pleased to get some, he’d be sure to buy her story. She slipped off her watch, pushed it out of sight under the passenger seat, and got out of her truck. “Hi, Rick. I brought you a little something for breakfast.”

“Hey, Hannah. That’s really nice of you.” Rick smiled as he accepted the cookies and coffee. “What are you doing way out here?”

“I’m looking for my watch. I think I dropped it inside the day we found Rhonda’s body. Mother and I were packing up things for her store and it must have fallen off my wrist.”

“I wish I could let you look, but I can’t let anyone inside.”

“That’s okay, Rick. I figured that. But you can go inside and look for it, can’t you?”

“I’m not allowed inside, either. The only authorized personnel are the detectives working the case. Sorry, Hannah.”

Hannah gave a deep sigh and then she brightened visibly. “How about just peeking in through the windows? If we spot it, I can ask Bill or Mike to get it the next time they come out here.”

“Well…I guess that’d be okay. They didn’t say anything about looking in through the windows.”

“Great.” Hannah gave him a warm smile. “I’ll start on one side of the house and you can start on the other. That way you’ll be back at your post twice as fast.”

“Sounds good. What does this watch of yours look like?”

Hannah froze for a millisecond. She should have anticipated that question. To cover her momentary lapse, she described her present watch. “It’s a waterproof watch with a round face and it’s got a black band.”

“Like the ones in the window at the drugstore?”

“Exactly. As a matter of fact, that’s where it came from. I know I didn’t take it off, so the band must have broken. It’s probably on the floor in one of the rooms.”

The moment Rick disappeared around his side of the house, Hannah made a beeline for the basement windows on the other side. She pulled Lisa’s camera out of her purse and clicked off a dozen fast shots, alternating between the four basement windows. By the time she was finished, Rick was rounding the back of the house and Hannah quickly stuffed the camera back into her purse. “Hi, Rick. Any luck?”

“No. You didn’t spot it, either?”

Hannah shook her head, doing her best to appear disappointed. “I’m not even sure I lost it out here, but I thought it was worth a look.”

Once she’d chatted with Rick for a few more moments, Hannah walked back to her truck. She didn’t think he’d been suspicious about her request, but she didn’t put her watch back on until she pulled up in front of the Rhodes Dental Clinic, ten minutes later.

“Hi, Norman,” Hannah called out when she came through the door. “I’ve got a photographic emergency.”

“A what?” Norman slid aside the little glass doors at the reception desk and peered out.

“A photographic emergency. I just took some pictures and I need to have them developed as fast as I can.”

“Let me check my schedule.” Norman flipped the page in his appointment book. “Okay. I’ve got Mrs. Walters coming in at nine, but Mayor Bascomb canceled his ten o’clock. If I don’t have an emergency, I’m free from ten to twelve-thirty.”

“Then you’ll develop my film?”

“That depends,” Norman said. “I assume it has something to do with Rhonda’s murder?”

“Photos of the crime scene. I ran out there this morning and took them through the basement window. Don’t mention that to anybody. I had to pull a fast one to do it.”

“Okay. Did you use a flash?”

“No. I taped over it so it wouldn’t glare against the glass.”

Norman looked pleased. “I should have known you’d think of that. How about the light? Was it dark in the basement?”

“Yes, but there was some light coming in through the windows. The disposable camera I used didn’t have any way of changing the settings.”

Norman took the camera Hannah passed through the window and glanced at it. “It’ll be okay. I can push the negatives.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s like baking your cookies at a higher temperature to make them crisper.”

“If I did that, I’d burn them!”

Norman laughed. “I never claimed to be a baker. Don’t worry about it, Hannah. I’ll play some tricks in the darkroom and get all I can for you.”

“Thanks, Norman. Do you think you can have them ready by noon and drop them off at The Cookie Jar?”

“Yes, but I didn’t say I’d do them yet.”

“You didn’t?”

“No. When you asked me, I said, It depends .”

“On what?”

“On your Orange Snaps. Would you bake a couple dozen for me to give to my mother? She’s almost forgiven me for not consulting her about the house and your Orange Snaps are her favorites. I figure they ought to get me back in her good graces.”

“I’ll mix them up the minute I get back to the shop.”

The street door opened and Mrs. Walters walked in. Hannah greeted her and then she headed back out to her truck. She’d bake the Orange Snaps because Norman had asked her to, but his plan wouldn’t work. Carrie was every bit as stubborn as Delores and there wasn’t a cookie in the world that could pull either mother out of a snit.

“Mike’s here, Hannah,” Lisa said, poking her head into the kitchen. “He says he has to talk to you about something important.”

“Okay. Will you give him a cup of coffee and send him back here?”

Hannah sighed as she finished packaging the Orange Snaps for Norman. Mike had probably found out about her early morning trip to the Voelker place and he’d come to find out what she’d really been doing.

“Hannah,” Mike greeted her when he came into the kitchen. “What’s all this about a watch you lost at the crime scene? Didn’t you have it on last night when we got together at your mother’s cottage?”

Hannah sighed and decided to tell the truth. “The watch was just an excuse. I needed to take another look at the basement and I didn’t have time to call you or Bill for permission.”

“So you made up that story and Rick bought it?” Mike looked absolutely incredulous.

“Yes, but I didn’t go inside. I just looked in through the windows to see if the basement was the way I remembered it.”

Mike shook his head. “Rick’s going to have to develop a basic mistrust of people or he’ll never be a good detective.”

“Is that what you have? A basic mistrust of people?”

“I guess so.”

“Isn’t life a lot harder that way?”

Mike opened his mouth and Hannah could tell he was ready to deny it, but then he shrugged. “I guess it is. That’s a big difference between us. You trust almost everybody and I don’t trust much of anybody.”

“But you do trust me, don’t you?”

“Yes, and I shouldn’t. You’ve lied to me enough times.”

“I never lied!” Hannah’s eyes flashed a warning. “I just…omitted a few things and misled you.”

“Water under the bridge,” Mike said, looking amused as he took a stool at the work island. “So you needed another look at the crime scene?”

“That’s right. I realized that after I spotted Rhonda’s body, I really didn’t look around at anything else.”

“Okay. I’ll buy that. But why didn’t you just ask me if you could see the crime-scene photos?”

“If I’d asked, would it have done me any good?”

“Probably not.” Mike laughed and suddenly he was much friendlier. “I’m sorry, Hannah. I’m just not used to sharing the details of an investigation with anyone. I work best alone.”

“How about Bill?”

“He’s got access to the case file. I don’t cut him out of it deliberately, but I tend to keep things to myself, especially those crazy theories that come to me in the middle of the night. I’ve always been that way. I guess I’m just a loner by nature. We’re really a lot different, you know? Maybe that’s why I value you so much.”

“I’m the yin to your yang?”

“Yeah.” Mike chuckled. “So…what did you find out?”

“Not a darned thing.”

“Nothing?”

“Not really. Everything in that basement was just as I remembered it. It was probably a wasted trip.”

Mike stood up and walked over to put his arm around her shoulders. “It’s usually a wasted trip, but we have to keep on trying. That’s one thing I’m sure of. Rhonda didn’t deserve to die violently. We have to find her killer and punish him.”

“I know.” Hannah felt real warmth for this man who haunted her dreams. He had ideals, he was compassionate, and he’d said, WE have to find her killer and punish him. Mike had included her, and that meant he’d accepted her. “So are you going to tell me what you’ve found out so far?”

“No.”

“No?”

“Maybe later, but not now. I’ve got something I’ve been working on and I’m not ready to tell anybody about it.”

Hannah’s mouth dropped open. “But you expect me to tell you all about my investigation?”

“Of course I do. You’re the amateur and I’m the professional. That’s not meant to put you down, Hannah. That’s just the way it is.”

“But…”

“I’ve got to run.” Mike set down his coffee cup and pulled her into his arms for a quick hug. “See you later, okay?”

After Mike left, Hannah stared at the swinging door until it stopped wiggling. Then she turned back to her work with a scowl on her face. Either Mike hadn’t noticed her lack of response when he’d hugged her, or he’d ignored her anger, intending to deal with it later. Neither possibility pleased her. There was still fire in her eyes ten minutes later when Lisa stuck her head into the kitchen again.

“Norman’s here,” Lisa announced before she noticed the expression on Hannah’s face. “Oh-oh. Did you have a fight with Mike?”

“I did. He didn’t. I don’t think he even knew I was mad at him.”

Lisa opened her mouth to respond, but she must have thought better of it because she just shrugged. “Do you want me to send Norman back here?”

“Yes. Thanks, Lisa. And if Mike comes back in, cut off his free coffee and cookies. He can pay just like everybody else.”

“How about Norman?” Lisa asked.

Hannah’s anger evaporated and she started to grin. “You can give him whatever he wants…at least for now.”

Orange Snaps

Don’t preheat the oven yet—
this cookie dough has to chill

1½ cups melted butter (3 sticks )

2 cups white sugar

½ cup frozen orange juice concentrate (I use Minute Maid )

2 beaten eggs (just beat them up with a fork)

4 teaspoons baking soda

1 teaspoon salt

½ to 1 teaspoon orange zest[*]

4 cups flour (you don’t have to sift it)

1/3 cup white sugar for later

Melt the butter in a large microwave-safe bowl. Add the sugar and orange juice concentrate, and stir. Let the mixture cool slightly. Add the eggs, baking soda, salt, and orange zest, stirring after each addition. Add the flour in increments and mix thoroughly. Cover the bowl and refrigerate the dough at least 2 hours (overnight’s even better).

When you’re ready to bake, preheat your oven to 350 degrees F., with rack in the middle position.

Roll the chilled dough into walnut-sized balls with your hands. Put 1/3 cup white sugar in a small bowl and roll the balls in it. Place them on a greased cookie sheet, 12 to a sheet. Press the dough balls down just a little so they won’t roll off on the floor when you put them in the oven.

Bake for 10 to 12 minutes at 350 degrees F. The dough balls will flatten out all by themselves. Let the cookies cool for 2 minutes on the cookie sheet and then move them to a wire rack to finish cooling.

These cookies freeze well. Roll them up in foil, put them in a freezer bag, and they’ll be fine for 3 months or so, if they last that long.

Yield: approximately 10 dozen thin cookies, depending on cookie size.

(Tracey loves these cookies and she’s almost managed to convince Andrea that she can have them in place of orange juice for breakfast.)

Chapter
Twenty-Three

“S ee anything new?” Norman asked after Hannah had rifled through the stacks of prints.

“Not a thing. How about you?”

“I don’t know if this is important, but the canning jars in the furnace room are a lot smaller than the canning jars in the rest of the basement.”

“That’s right. The ones in the furnace room are small-size mayonnaise jars and Mrs. Voelker used them to put up her jams and jellies.”

“Why not use regular canning jars?”

“Some people do, but canning jars are more expensive and you can put jam in any kind of glass container if you seal it with wax on the top.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“It’s true. When my college roommate got married, I was a bridesmaid and by the time I’d paid for my dress, I didn’t have much money left for a gift. I bought a dozen wineglasses on sale, filled them with homemade grape jelly, and gave them as my wedding present.”

“That’s very you, Hannah.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s sweet, and practical, and…” Norman shrugged. “It’s just something you’d do, that’s all. You’d make a great wife for a man with no money.”

“Thanks…I think.” Hannah chuckled. It was a strange thing to say, but she was sure it was meant as a compliment.

“I’d better get going. I’ve got a case of gum disease in ten minutes.”

Hannah’s chuckle turned into a laugh and she was still laughing as Norman picked up his package of Orange Snaps and headed out the door.

Lisa looked at the last print and shook her head. “I’m sorry, Hannah. I don’t see anything even approaching a clue.”

“Neither did we.” Hannah gathered up the prints and stuck them back into the envelope Norman had brought. “I still have the feeling I’m missing something, but I don’t know what it is.”

“You could always borrow Dad’s technique. He says if he thinks of something else, the thing he was trying to think of usually pops right into his head.”

“At this point, I’m willing to try anything. I’ll make the cookie deliveries. I always think best when I’m working.”

“Okay.” Lisa reached into her apron pocket and pulled out a list. “On your way back could you stop at the Red Owl? I thought of a dessert to make for tomorrow, but I need a few things.”

“No problem. What are you making?”

“Cupcakes decorated especially for the Fourth. They’re going to be really exciting, Hannah.”

“I’m sure they will be.” Hannah was smiling as she went back to the kitchen to pack up the cookies for delivery. She’d never thought of cupcakes as being particularly exciting before, but perhaps Lisa was on to something.

“Thanks for driving me, Andrea,” Hannah said, collapsing into the passenger’s seat and leaning her head back against the headrest. Andrea had arrived just as she was about to load her cookie deliveries and offered to drive Hannah in her car. “That’s the last of them. Just drop me at my truck and I’ll run to the Red Owl.”

“I can stop at the Red Owl. I have to pick up some things for tomorrow anyway.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive,” Andrea said and turned to smile at Hannah. “Besides, I want to collect my share of thanks for renting the second floor to Danielle. If she hadn’t come along, it’d still be vacant.”

By the time Andrea pulled up outside the Red Owl in her Volvo, the shower that had been threatening all afternoon with dark skies and occasional flashes of lightning had turned into a full-scale downpour. Andrea took one look at the fat raindrops pelting down on the windshield and suggested they wait until the worst of the rain had subsided.

“Good idea,” Hannah said, wondering what they’d find to talk about. The Cookie Jar float was a taboo subject, but the murder case wasn’t. “I’d like to show you some crime-scene photos.”

“No way,” Andrea said, shivering slightly.

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t like gore in any way, shape, or form. I don’t even let Bill show me crime-scene photos.”

“These aren’t gory. It’s just Mrs. Voelker’s basement and the furnace room, that’s all.”

“Then there’s no body?”

Hannah shook her head. “No body.”

“That might be okay. But if there’s nothing there, why do you want me to see them?”

“Just look and tell me if you see anything that looks out of place.”

“What’s wrong with this picture?” Andrea asked, smiling at her sister. They’d both had Miss Gladke in second grade and that had been one of her favorite techniques to get the class involved in a discussion.

“Right.” Hannah reached in her purse and drew out the envelope of prints that Norman had developed.

Andrea took her time paging through the prints. By the time she’d finished examining each one, the inside of her windshield was steaming up. “What happened to the rain gutters?”

“Where?” Hannah asked, glancing down at the top photo on Andrea’s stack.

“On cars. Heaven knows my Volvo was expensive enough and it’s got everything else. Remember the little ledge Dad used to have above the windows in the Chrysler? He could roll down the windows and the rain wouldn’t come in.”

Hannah knew Andrea was off on a tangent, but she understood her sister’s reasoning. It was getting pretty steamy in her closed car. “So did you notice anything in the pictures?”

“Nothing really jumped out at me except those mayo jars.” Andrea flipped to the picture of the shelves behind the furnace.

“But they’re not unusual. Lots of people save mayo jars for jams and jellies. Don’t you remember how Grandma Ingrid used to bring us mayo jars full of rhubarb jam?”

“Of course I remember. I loved Grandma Ingrid’s rhubarb jam, but that’s not what I’m talking about.” Andrea pointed to the photo. “I just thought it was odd that these three jars in the middle of the top shelf are red.”

Hannah took a quick look. “They’re just a different kind of jam, that’s all.”

“I know that, but Mrs. Voelker was so organized. Each section holds a different type of jam. The top shelf looks like peach, the middle shelf looks like blueberry, and the bottom shelf looks like strawberry.”

“So?”

“So why did she move three jars of strawberry jam up to the peach shelf? You can tell she did. There are three empty places on the strawberry shelf, way over here at the end.”

Hannah looked again. Andrea was right. Somebody had moved three jars of strawberry jam up to the top shelf. “You’re a genius, Andrea! That’s what I’ve been missing and you spotted it.”

“I’m glad, but I don’t know what you’re so excited about. Mrs. Voelker probably ate the peach jam and her companion moved the strawberry up where it would be easier to reach.”

“I don’t think so. Look at that strawberry shelf again. It’s all dusty between the jars, but there are three perfectly clean spots where the strawberry jam used to sit.”

Andrea studied the photo again. “You’re right, Hannah. Mrs. Voelker died over six months ago. If her companion had moved that jam, those spots would be covered over with dust by now. Do you think Rhonda’s killer moved them?”

“That’s my guess.”

Andrea shivered slightly. “Maybe we should tell Bill and Mike. They might be able to lift some fingerprints.”

“I don’t think so. Mike told me that the killer wore gloves.”

“That’s right. Bill mentioned it. But why would the killer bother to move them in the first place?”

“I don’t know, but there’s got to be an answer. All I have to do is find out what it is.” Hannah wiped a spot clean on the steamed-up window and glanced out. “Come on, Andrea. The rain’s let up and it’s a sauna in here. And I still have to do Lisa’s shopping.”

Once they entered the store, the two sisters went their separate ways. Hannah headed straight for the produce to get some things for her nightly salad, and Andrea veered off toward the frozen dinners. It didn’t take long for Hannah to pick up the items on Lisa’s list and when she arrived at the checkout counter, she found Andrea waiting for her.

“What’s all that?” Andrea stared at the contents of Hannah’s cart.

“I’ll be darned if I know.” Hannah was just as puzzled as her sister. She’d picked up some fresh vegetables for her dinner salad and a bag of kitty treats for Moishe, but the large bottles of red and blue food coloring and the boxes of flat-bottomed ice cream cones were for Lisa. “Lisa’s making special cupcakes for the picnic.”

“With cucumbers, cat treats, and ice cream cones?”

“No, the cucumbers and cat treats are mine.”

“Well, that’s a relief!” Andrea said, looking greatly relieved. “They don’t carry blue Jell-O.”

“I never thought that they did.” Hannah pushed her cart into the shortest line and Andrea followed her. “Why did you want blue Jell-O?”

“For the town picnic. I thought I’d make a Jell-O mold in layers for Independence Day. Blue Jell-O in the bottom, red on top of that, and then white whipped cream. It would have been perfect.”

Hannah did her best to look sympathetic, but it was a struggle. Her sister’s idea of gourmet cooking was to dump a can of fruit cocktail into some Jell-O and squirt it with a can of whipped cream. “So what are you going to bring?”

“Chips and dip. I got a package of blue corn chips, and a package of white. I’m going to mix them in a bowl and put out some salsa. That’s red.”

“That should do it,” Hannah said, sending a silent thank-you to the Red Owl for not carrying blue Jell-O.

When Hannah got back to The Cookie Jar, she manned the counter while Lisa went back to the kitchen to bake. Thirty minutes from the time Lisa had gone through the swinging door to the kitchen, a delicious aroma began to drift out to titillate Hannah’s nostrils. She resisted for as long as she could, but finally she excused herself to the customers sitting at the counter and stuck her head into the kitchen to see how Lisa was coming along. “It really smells good in here. Chocolate?”

“Chocolate fudge cupcakes. They’re my mom’s recipe. The kids just love them and so do the grown-ups.”

“Great,” Hannah said, just as the timer Lisa wore around her neck started to clang. “That’s my cue to leave. I’ll take care of our customers and you take care of the cupcakes.”

The next half-hour was busy. It was always busy in the summer when the tourists came to town. Hannah often wondered why they came to the lake when they spent most of their time shopping in the Lake Eden stores, cooking in the kitchens of their rented cottages, watching the television sets they’d brought with them, and doing almost exactly what they’d be doing at home in the big cities. She figured they must come for the genuine small-town atmosphere, the friendly, open feeling they got in Lake Eden. In the big Minnesota cities, people locked and bolted their doors and they didn’t speak to strangers on the streets. Here things were different. A stranger was a friend unless he or she proved otherwise.

By and large, the tourists who rented the lake cabins were nice folks. They were certainly getting behind the town’s Fourth of July celebration. Tickets for the potluck picnic and barbeque at Eden Lake were selling like hotcakes. Mayor Bascomb had predicted that there would be more than five hundred out-of-town guests watching the parade, taking part in the activities on the shores of Eden Lake, eating the food the residents provided, and enjoying the fireworks in the evening.

Business was brisk and Hannah’s old-fashioned cash register dinged almost continually. The locals dropped in, as they always did, and mingled with the lake cottage tourists. Friendships were formed, romances with some of the local girls and boys appeared to be blooming, and no one was thinking about Labor Day, when the tourist season would end. Hannah had explained why the town was called Lake Eden and the lake that was within the city limits was called Eden Lake at least a dozen times by the time most of the customers had cleared out. She was just transferring some of the money from the till to the bank deposit bag when the bell over the door tinkled and Jed Sawyer walked in.

Jed gave her a friendly smile. “Hi, Hannah.”

“Don’t Hi, Hannah me!” Hannah said right back, glaring at him. “I heard what you did last night.”

“What did you hear?”

“You got Freddy drunk and let him pick up a girl in a bar. I thought you honestly cared about Freddy, but it looks like I was wrong!”

“Hold on.” Jed held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I don’t know where you got all that from, but it’s not what happened.”

“Oh, no?”

“Look, Hannah…I’m sorry Freddy got drunk, but it didn’t start out that way. I let him have one bottle of beer and it hit him like a ton of bricks.”

“You should have known better.”

“I know. I found out later that he’d never even tasted alcohol before, but I didn’t know that at the time.”

Hannah put her hands on her hips. There was no way she was letting Jed off the hook this easily. “You should have guessed it. Mrs. Sawyer was a complete teetotaler. She didn’t allow alcohol in her house.”

“She used to when Freddy’s dad was alive. We drove to see them every summer and my dad and Uncle Jim always sat out on the dock in the afternoon, fishing and polishing off a six-pack.”

Hannah sighed. It was up to her to point out the obvious. “But you didn’t see Freddy drinking, did you?”

“No. We were both too young back then. But really, Hannah…Freddy’s almost thirty and I had no idea he couldn’t handle one beer. It’ll never happen again. I can promise you that.”

Hannah thawed slightly, but she still had a ways to go. “It’s not just the beer, Jed. You shouldn’t have let Freddy pick up that bar girl.”

“She wasn’t a bar girl. And Freddy didn’t pick her up. It was like this, Hannah. We were going to the movies and my date knew I was bringing Freddy along. When we got to her house, she had a friend there to make it a foursome.”

“How about the bar? You were there, weren’t you?”

“Yeah, but we just stopped off for a quick one before we headed off for the movies. You gotta remember, I was driving and I had my eyes on the road. I didn’t know what Freddy was doing back there until the deputy pulled us over.”

“And you would have stopped Freddy if you’d seen him?”

“You bet! I would have pulled over and told him to knock it off. But I didn’t know, Hannah. I never thought Freddy would do anything like that.”

Hannah didn’t say anything. So far Jed’s story had the ring of truth, but she still wasn’t completely satisfied.

“I had a long talk with Freddy this morning,” Jed went on, “and he knows what he did was wrong. I’m not going to date that girl again, either. If her friend thinks it’s funny to egg on a nice, simple guy like Freddy, I don’t want to have anything to do with either one of them.”

Hannah was appeased. It sounded as if Jed had taken the proper steps to make sure that Freddy wouldn’t get into trouble again. “I heard that Freddy was pretty drunk. How’s his head this morning?”

“He’s got a hangover the size of Minneapolis and he’s feeling pretty ashamed of himself. That’s the reason I stopped in. I wanted to bring him some cookies to prove that I’m not mad at him.”

“That’s a good idea.” Hannah pulled out a bag, filled it with a dozen cookies, and handed it to Jed. “Take these to Freddy and tell him they’re from both of us.”

“Thanks, Hannah. You’re really a great person, you know?”

Once the door had closed behind Jed, Hannah gave another long sigh. She hoped that Freddy had learned his lesson and that Jed would keep a better eye on him.

The next few minutes were slow, so Hannah took advantage of her downtime by refilling the sugar dispensers and stocking the tables with packets of artificial sweetener. She’d never figured out why people who’d scarf down cookies would put artificial sweetener in their coffee, but they did. She’d just finished when Michelle walked in through the swinging door from the kitchen.

“Hi, Hannah.” Michelle hugged herself and shivered slightly. “Lisa’s cupcakes look fantastic, but I’m not supposed to say any more than that. It’s really cold in your kitchen with that air conditioner running full blast.”

Hannah stared at her sister’s outfit. Michelle was wearing a pair of white shorts that were so tight she probably had to stretch out on the bed to zip them up. Her pink spandex top barely covered what it had to legally cover and while the outfit looked good on her, it wasn’t the sort of thing the Lake Eden girls wore to town. Hannah knew she shouldn’t say anything, Michelle was old enough to choose her own clothing, but she couldn’t resist. “Maybe if you had more clothes on, you wouldn’t think my kitchen was so cold.”

“Not you too!” Michelle gave an exasperated sigh. “You’re getting more like Mother every day!”

“That’s not necessarily a bad thing,” Hannah countered. “Mother has her good points.”

“Name one!”

“Well…she’s always…um…” Hannah paused and then she began to laugh. “All right. I can’t think of any right off the top of my head, but I’m sure there are plenty. How did your lunch with the girls go?”

“Fantastic. I made your spinach quiche and the girls really raved about it. They all wanted the recipe, but I said I’d have to ask you first. It’s not a secret or anything, is it?”

Hannah laughed. “No, you can give it to them.”

“Good. I just came from Granny’s Attic and we’re all getting together out at the cottage tonight. You’ll drive out, won’t you?”

“Well…”

“Come on, Hannah. I don’t come home that often and it’s fun if we all get together. We’re having Chinese. Since you’re on a diet, Mother called in a whole order of vegetables for you. Lonnie’s picking up the food on his way out to the lake.”

“You’re seeing Lonnie two nights in a row?”

“Yes,” Michelle said, and her cheeks turned pink. “Our date got cut short last night with Freddy and all, and we’ve still got a lot of catching up to do.”

Hannah decided not to say anything. As Delores might describe it when she was in her Regency-speak mode, Michelle had a telling blush.

“It’s not serious, so don’t start worrying. It’s just that Raj and I are so different.”

“Oh?”

“He grew up in New York City and he doesn’t know anything about small-town life. When I called him last night, I told him about the potluck picnic and barbecue, and how everyone brings their best dish.”

“And?” Hannah waited for the punch line.

“He said he’d never been to a potluck picnic, but it sounded like a lot of work to him. And then he asked me why they didn’t just call someone in to cater the whole thing.”

“Different cultures?”

“And different incomes,” Michelle said with a sigh. “He told me his mother’s never set foot in their kitchen. They have a full-time cook.”

“Imagine that,” Hannah commented, biding her time.

“Raj thinks everything I tell him about Lake Eden is amusing. It’s almost like he thinks we’re all country bumpkins.”

Hannah had the feeling that Raj wouldn’t be in the picture for much longer. “I guess we might seem that way to someone who was raised in a cosmopolitan city.”

“I know, but his attitude burns me sometimes. He thinks he knows everything and I don’t know anything.” Michelle glanced down at her watch. “I’d better hit the road. I’m running out to CostMart. Do you need anything?”

Hannah was about to say no when she remembered the down pillow. “Will you see if their goose-down pillows came in? Andrea tried to buy one for me, but they were sold out. She brought me a rain check for the sale price.”

“Sure.” Michelle waited until Hannah had produced her rain check and handed it over. “I’m going to buy a new bathing suit. And before you ask, I’m getting a one-piece.”

“A one-piece that doesn’t have strategic holes? And isn’t cut up to here?” Hannah pointed to a spot on the outside of her thigh that was almost as high as her waist.

“Don’t worry. It’ll be modest enough to please even Mother. What time do you think you’ll be out at the cabin?”

Hannah thought about her time schedule. There was no cookie dough to mix for tomorrow. They were closed for the Fourth and she was taking Saturday off to give them a three-day weekend. “Right after we close, I’ll run home to feed Moishe and then I’ll drive out. I should be there by six-thirty or seven.”

“Okay. I’ll bring your pillow if they have them.”

“Do you want me to give you some money?”

“Mother gave me her credit card. I’ll use it and you can settle up with her later.”

Michelle went out the front door and Hannah watched as a passing car slowed down so the driver could stare. The outfit her baby sister was wearing was what the older generation of women in Lake Eden would refer to as a husband-catcher. Hannah knew that Michelle wasn’t thinking of marriage at this point in her life, but the weatherman on KCOW radio was predicting cooler temperatures and rain for this evening. If Michelle wore her husband-catcher outfit tonight, what she’d catch would be a nasty summer cold.

It was five-thirty, The Cookie Jar was closed, and Hannah was adding up the day’s receipts when Lisa came into the coffee shop. “I’m done, Hannah.”

“Already?” Hannah was surprised. Lisa had made fast work of baking the cupcakes.

“The only thing left is to store them in the cooler. Go take a look and tell me what you think.”

Hannah headed for the kitchen feeling slightly guilty. Their dessert for the town picnic and barbecue was all finished and all she’d done was dash to the Red Owl for a few items.

“Oh, my!” Hannah gasped, as she stepped through the swinging door and caught sight of the trays of cupcakes that Lisa had made. Some were frosted with bright blue icing, others with bright red, and the rest with white. The cupcakes were standing on six of Hannah’s largest rectangular serving trays and each tray was arranged to resemble the American flag with alternating rows of red and white. The upper left-hand corner of each tray was a field of blue cupcakes and Lisa had even piped little white stars on the blue icing.

As she approached the trays, Hannah realized that the cupcakes were in edible containers. Lisa had used ice cream cones instead of cupcake papers.

“Well? What do you think?”

Hannah turned to see Lisa grinning at her from the doorway. “They’re really wonderful!”

“I didn’t know for sure if the cones would work, but I couldn’t see any reason why they wouldn’t.”

“And you were right,” Hannah said, walking over to give her partner a hug. “They’re perfect for the Fourth, and every mother in town is going to thank you.”

“Why?”

“Because they won’t have to peel off the cupcake papers and wipe sticky fingers after dessert.”

Lisa looked absolutely astounded for a moment and then she started to giggle. “You’re right. These cupcakes are perfect for the kids, but I didn’t even think of that when I made them.”

“That isn’t why you baked them in the cones?”

Lisa shook her head. “I did it because I looked in all the cupboards and I couldn’t find enough cupcake pans.”

Chapter
Twenty-Four

“A re you sure you don’t want me to follow you home?” Norman looked concerned as he opened the screen door of the cottage for her. “It looks really nasty.”

“I’ll be fine,” Hannah said, glancing up at the lightning that was zigzagging across the sky. The storm had rolled in across the lake during dinner and by the time Delores had opened the bag with the fortune cookies, Hannah had announced that she had to leave.

“Hold on a second. I’m coming along.” Mike got up from his place at the table and joined them. “You’re not going to be able to outrun that storm, Hannah. It’ll hit before you get home.”

Hannah stepped out the door with both men following her. The air was so humid, it was like someone had put on a giant teakettle and it was steaming away to humidify the whole county. “Maybe, but I’ve driven through hundreds of storms before.”

“This looks like a bad one,” Mike commented as they walked toward Hannah’s truck. “How are your windshield wipers?”

“They’re fine. I just replaced the blades.”

“And your tires?”

“They’re practically new. Stop being such a worrywart, Mike.” Hannah gave him a smile to show that she appreciated his concern even though she thought he was being ridiculously overcautious. “If it starts coming down in buckets, I’ll pull off to the side of the road until I can drive safely again.”

“Will you call the cottage when you get home?” Norman asked, opening the door of the truck for Hannah. “Then we’ll know you got there all right.”

Hannah climbed behind the wheel and lowered the window. “I’ll call the minute I walk in the door. Give me at least an hour, though. It might take me that long to get home.”

“I still think I should follow you,” Mike said, beginning to frown.

“Thanks, but that’s not necessary.” Hannah started her car and gave a little wave as she drove off. She glanced in her rearview mirror and chuckled slightly. Norman had one hand half-lifted in a wave, but Mike was glowering like there was no tomorrow. He really didn’t like it when he didn’t get his way and he’d wanted to follow her home. The fact that he was worried about her was flattering, but she didn’t like being cast in the role of a helpless female.

The tall pines around the shoreline of Eden Lake kept the sky mostly hidden from view. Hannah didn’t realize how dark it had become until she turned onto the main road. The first thing she noticed was the ominous blend of colors above her. The sky was a deep charcoal gray, streaked with dirty yellow. Purplish black storm clouds roiled up from the horizon and they reminded Hannah of a witch’s caldron churning and bubbling with an evil potion. It was the same ugly color combination the artist had used in an oil painting hanging on the wall of Granny’s Attic. It was entitled “Disaster,” and Hannah was heartily sorry she’d remembered that.

The wind began to pick up as Hannah passed the Quick Stop. She noticed that Ron and Sean had battened down the hatches by taping huge cardboard sheets to the inside of their front windows. They’d never done that before and Hannah turned on the radio to see if there might be a tornado warning in effect.

At first there was only static and then a faint announcer’s voice that cut in and out. Hannah had only managed to catch the words, “storm” and “century” before a sharp gust of wind caught the side of her truck and caused her to swerve dangerously. Just as she’d righted her heading and maneuvered back into her own lane of traffic, another gust of wind from the opposite direction sent her perilously close to the ditch. Hannah was seriously considering the wisdom of stopping and waiting until the winds had subsided when the decision was taken out of her hands. The wind gusted a third fierce time, snapping off a branch from a giant oak tree by the side of the road and hurtling it through the air, straight toward the front of her truck.

Hannah cranked the wheel as hard as she could, but there was no avoiding the wooden missile. It crashed into her windshield with a mighty thunk that rattled her truck and then it bounced back off again, taking the radio antenna with it. Hannah hit the brakes and muscled the truck over to the side of the road, pulling to a stop in a churning spume of gravel. By the time she’d stopped shaking and gotten out to assess the situation, the rain was beginning to fall. The branch didn’t seem to have done too much damage, at least none that a bottle of touch-up paint wouldn’t cure, but her radio antenna had snapped off at the base, leaving dangling wires and a hole in her hood where it had been attached.

“At least I won’t have to listen to the storm warnings,” Hannah muttered, picking up the wires and poking them back through the hole. The antenna was nowhere to be found, but she was sure that Ted Koester would be able to replace it with a new one from his salvage yard. Her windshield was intact and her truck was still running, and those were the important things. She should be able to get the rest of the way home.

It was only after she’d slid back into the driver’s seat that Hannah realized her blouse and jeans were soaked. There was nothing like driving home in a storm, sopping wet. This was the sort of thing colds were made of and Hannah hated summer colds. She reached into the back of her truck, shoved aside the down pillow that Michelle had picked up for her, and grabbed a towel from the stack she carried for catering. After her hair, face, and hands were dry, she felt much more in charge. This wasn’t so bad. The log hadn’t crashed through the windshield and she wouldn’t melt like sugar just because she was wet. Hannah was preparing to pull back out on the road again when she realized that her passenger’s-side windshield wiper had stopped working altogether and the one on the driver’s side was limping along like a lame duck.

There was nothing to do but go for it. Sitting here at the side of the road wouldn’t get her anywhere and there was no way she wanted Norman and Mike to find her in this helpless position. Hannah pulled out on the road again, thankful that the rain was light. Her wiper was operating in fits and starts. Every time the wind gusted, it stopped. Hannah inched along in the gathering darkness, hoping that no one would come up behind her at a speedy clip.

She’d gone only about a quarter of a mile when the rain began to fall harder. The small drops turned into larger drops and then into sheets of pouring rain. Her wiper stuttered with each new gust of wind, locked into a life-or-death battle with the elements. When it seemed certain that the elements would win, Hannah pulled over to the side of the road again and thumped her hand against the steering wheel in frustration.

“Oh, great!” Hannah groaned, accepting the inevitable. If she wanted to get home, there was only one thing to do. She lowered her window, poked her head out, and drove slowly down the shoulder of the road, listening for upcoming traffic and peering into the driving rain to look for her turnoff.

It was slow going. Every minute or so, Hannah had to stop to wipe off her face and her hair. She could think of pleasant ways to spend an evening and this wasn’t one of them. If she’d known this was going to happen, she would have encouraged both Norman and Mike to follow her home!

By the time Hannah reached the turnoff, she felt like a drowned rat. Her hair was hanging in limp strands and her cheeks were raw from the stinging rain. She glanced at her watch and groaned loudly. It was almost an hour since she’d left the lake cottage. Visions of Mike and Norman waiting for her at her condo when she arrived were daunting, and she knew she’d better call to let them know that she was all right.

The first place Hannah passed was the apartment where Rhonda had lived. She pulled into the garage, parked her truck in a spot designated for visitors, and headed straight for Beatrice and Ted Koester’s apartment. They owned and managed the building and they’d let her use their phone.

“Hannah!” Beatrice looked shocked when she opened her door in response to Hannah’s knock. “Did your truck break down?”

“Yes, and no. It’s still running, but the windshield wipers conked out on me. I had to stick my head out the window and that’s why I’m so wet.”

“Well, don’t just stand there. Come in and dry off.” Beatrice held the door open wider. “I’ll get you a bath towel.”

Hannah smiled her thanks as she slipped out of her soggy sandals in the hall and padded into Beatrice’s dry apartment. “Could I use your phone? Mother’s waiting for my call and I want to let her know that I’m all right. I promise I’ll try not to drip on anything.”

“That doesn’t matter.” Beatrice gestured toward the wall phone in the kitchen. “I was planning on washing the floor tonight anyway. Ted likes a clean home. It’s a nice contrast to all that dirt and grease out at the scrap yard. He makes a good living, though. Especially since he added the auto salvage. Go ahead, Hannah. I’ll get you that towel and a cup of coffee. You look chilled to the bone.”

Hannah accepted the towel Beatrice brought her and did her best to mop herself off. Then she called the lake cottage and Michelle answered the phone.

“Hi, Hannah. I’m so glad you’re home. Mike and Norman were beginning to get worried. Hold on a second and I’ll tell them.”

Hannah opened her mouth to say she wasn’t home, but Michelle had already set the phone down. She could hear her youngest sister talking in the background, conveying the message that Hannah was home and everything was fine.

“I told them,” Michelle came back on the line. “The storm was pretty fierce out here. Did you run into much rain?”

“Oh yes,” Hannah said, knowing that she was uttering a gross understatement. The rain was still drumming against Beatrice’s windows with considerable force.

“Mike and Norman said they’ll call you back. Mother’s car got hit by lightning and the guys are going out to look at it.”

Hannah thought fast. If Mike or Norman called her back at her apartment, they’d get her answer machine. “Tell them to give me at least forty-five minutes. I’m chilled and I’m going to take a hot shower.”

“Okay, Hannah. I’ll tell them. I’m really glad you got home okay. We were all worried.”

“Here, Hannah.” Beatrice presented Hannah with a cup of coffee the moment she’d hung up the phone.

“Thanks, Beatrice.” Hannah took a sip of the hot brew and sighed gratefully. “This is just what I needed.”

“The other thing you need is dry clothes. I’d give you some of mine, but I don’t think they’d fit.”

“Not on a bet.” Hannah laughed. Beatrice was petite, about Michelle’s size.

“I don’t know…” Beatrice cocked her head to the side and sized Hannah up. “You’ve lost a ton of weight. One of my skirts might be okay, but you’re so much taller.”

“Don’t worry about it, Beatrice. Now that I’m toweled off, I’ll dry in no time.”

Beatrice looked doubtful. “You can’t drive the rest of the way home in those wet clothes. You’ll catch your death. How about something of Rhonda’s? Her clothes are still in her closet and she was about your size.”

“You haven’t rented her apartment?” Hannah was surprised. Beatrice and Ted ran a nice apartment complex and there was always a waiting list of people who wanted to rent from them.

“I can’t rent it out yet. Rhonda paid me for July. I can take a deposit now, but no one can move in until the beginning of August.”

“That seems like a waste when you have a waiting list.”

“I know, but that’s the law. At least I won’t have to work to get it in shape. We put in new carpet and repainted it in June, and Rhonda just finished redecorating. Her place looks wonderful, Hannah. It’s just a shame her relatives don’t want her things.”

“They don’t?” Hannah was surprised. “What are you going to do with them?”

“They said to sell her car and send the money to them in Colorado, but we can do whatever we want with the rest. I’m going to rent the place furnished and I’ll let my tenants have first pick on everything else. That’s why I said you should go up there and get something to wear…if you don’t mind wearing her clothes, that is.”

“Why would I mind wearing something of Rhonda’s?”

“Because she’s dead. You know, a lot of people are sensitive about things like that.”

“It doesn’t bother me,” Hannah assured her. She’d hoped to get a peek inside Rhonda’s apartment and this seemed like a gift from the gods.

“The only thing is, I can’t go up there with you. Ted’s at a meeting and he said he’d call right before he left for home to see if I needed anything. And I do. I want him to stop and pick up some laundry detergent.”

Even better. Hannah tried not to look too excited. “That’s okay, Beatrice. I can run up to Rhonda’s apartment alone.”

“Are you sure you don’t mind? I mean, with her being dead and all?”

“I don’t mind,” Hannah said, taking the key that Beatrice held out. “After all, she didn’t die there. I’ll grab something, put it on, and come right back down with the key.”

“No hurry. Poke around a little and see if there’s anything you can use. Everything she owned is up for grabs.”

Hannah took a deep breath as she unlocked the door and stepped inside. She’d never been invited to Rhonda’s apartment and it was little strange to be coming here now. It felt like intruding, but Hannah reminded herself that she had a perfect reason to search through Rhonda’s things for clues since she was trying to solve her murder.

There was a switch by the inside of the door and Hannah flicked on the lights. Rhonda’s apartment was pretty, like something out of a magazine, with color-coordinated cushions on the couch and a bowl of matching silk flowers on the coffee table. The kitchen was immaculate, but that was no surprise since Rhonda had been intending to leave on vacation.

First things first, Hannah reminded herself, and she went straight to Rhonda’s walk-in closet. She grabbed the first items of clothing that came to hand, a pair of black slacks with an elastic waistband and a light blue pullover sweater. She wasn’t here to scavenge through Rhonda’s clothing unless it had some bearing on the murder, and anything that was dry would do.

Hannah dropped her own clothes in a heap on the floor and changed to Rhonda’s. Although the pants were too short, they weren’t as tight as she’d expected them to be and Rhonda’s sweater was positively bulky. Perhaps Beatrice was right and she really had lost a ton of weight. She checked the closet, but it contained nothing unusual and she wasn’t interested in the number of outfits in Rhonda’s wardrobe. Then she tackled the dresser drawers, going from top to bottom as fast as she could. She found a pair of socks to wear, but there was nothing else that could possibly relate to Rhonda’s murder.

The plastic bags were in a holder under the sink and Hannah stuffed her wet clothing into one of them. Then she went through the cupboards and kitchen drawers, learning nothing except the fact that Rhonda owned a set of sterling silver fish knives and she must have been very fond of packaged macaroni and cheese.

The living room was next. Hannah headed straight for a small desk that Rhonda had placed under the windows. The center drawer was filled with loose receipts, and she sat down in the desk chair to glance through them.

Nothing caught Hannah’s interest until she found a receipt from Browerville Travel. Not only had Rhonda driven all the way to Browerville to book her flight, she’d lied to Hannah about where and when she had done it. When they’d signed the house papers at The Cookie Jar, Rhonda had said she’d called the airlines and reserved her ticket the previous evening. She’d also said that thanks to Norman, she had enough money to fly to Rome on vacation. But this receipt from Browerville Travel was dated two weeks before Norman had made his offer on the house!

Rhonda’s lie didn’t seem to make much sense, but Hannah didn’t have time to think about that now. She grabbed the receipt, stuck it into her purse, and went through the rest of the desk drawers. She was down to the last drawer when she discovered another strange item. It was a letter addressed to Rhonda’s great-aunt.

“Strange,” Hannah mused, staring down at the letter. This was the only item belonging to Mrs. Voelker that she’d found in Rhonda’s apartment. It must be important if Rhonda had kept it and nothing else. Hannah stuffed it into her purse and stood up. One room left to search and she was through.

Four minutes later Hannah emerged from Rhonda’s bathroom with a frown on her face. Searching Rhonda’s medicine cabinet and bathroom drawers had been a waste of her time. She’d found nothing except a small fortune in cosmetics and time was growing short. Hannah grabbed her things, flicked off the lights, and raced down the stairs to return Beatrice’s key. If she didn’t hurry, she’d have the whole Winnetka Sheriff’s Department and every member of her extended family waiting on her doorstep when she got home.

Chapter
Twenty-Five

H annah got up with a smile the next morning. Since Moishe now had his own down pillow, her neck felt great for the first time in months. It didn’t take long to dress for the Fourth and within the hour, Hannah was in her truck on her way to The Cookie Jar. The weather was gorgeous. Puffy white clouds floated lazily in a bright blue sky and it couldn’t have looked less like rain. After the deluge they’d gotten the previous night, the grass was emerald green and there was a wonderful fresh scent in the air, the same scent candles and room fresheners attempted in vain to duplicate.

As Hannah drove through town, she noticed that everyone had gone all out for Independence Day with flags, banners, ribbons, and other patriotic items. Even the tall pine that served as the town Christmas tree in Lake Eden Park was decked out with red, white, and blue streamers.

By seven forty-five, Hannah arrived at her parking spot. She unlocked the back door and stepped inside, sniffing appreciatively as a welcome aroma wafted out to greet her. Lisa had put on the coffee. But where was her car?

“Happy Fourth, Hannah!” Lisa came in from the coffee shop before Hannah had time to look for her.

“The same to you. Where’s your car?”

“I left it down at the Senior Center. Herb gave me a ride here. Pour yourself a cup of coffee and go sit down in the shop. I’m going to make you a low-cal breakfast.”

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee was enticing and Hannah was only too happy to do as she’d been told. She filled a mug, carried it to her favorite table, and took a seat facing the plate-glass window. The street outside fairly sparkled in the sunlight. Mayor Bascomb had ordered every inch of the parade route swept clean last night. Since the street was roped off, there was no traffic and nothing to watch. It was too early for spectators to gather and the only thing moving was a family of birds in the tall pine across the street.

Hannah sipped her coffee for a few moments, but she’d never been any good at sitting still for long. This was the perfect time to check out the receipt and the letter she’d found in Rhonda’s desk.

One glance at the clock and Hannah decided to tackle the receipt first. The toll-free number for the airlines shouldn’t be terribly busy this early. She retrieved both items from her purse and carried the receipt behind the counter where she could use the phone. This would take some fancy talking, but she’d taken several lessons on that subject from Andrea. She’d say she was calling for Rhonda, who’d missed her flight because of a sudden death in the family. That part was the truth. And then she’d fudge a little by saying that Rhonda wanted to rebook her ticket with exactly the same accommodations. If she got lucky, the airline employee would tell her all the facts about Rhonda’s ticket when he or she rebooked the flight.

It took ten minutes, but at last Hannah hung up the phone and walked back to the table to take a huge swig of coffee. The information she’d been given was startling, to say the least. Nothing Rhonda had told her was true. She’d booked a one-way ticket, not a round-trip. And she’d been flying to Zurich, not Rome.

Hannah stared out the window at the silent street. No wonder Rhonda had gone to Browerville Travel! She hadn’t wanted anyone in town to know that she was leaving for good or where she’d gone.

Hannah thought about that to the faint sounds of pans clattering from the kitchen. A few moments later, she caught the hint of a delectable aroma and her mouth began to water. She didn’t know what Lisa was cooking, but it certainly smelled delicious.

“Our float looks gorgeous,” Lisa said, pushing the door open and sticking her head in the coffee shop. “Unless the judges are blind, we’ll win first prize.”

“I didn’t know they were awarding prizes.”

“Neither did I. Janice Cox said they decided to do it at the council meeting last night. The first-place float gets a hundred dollars, second place gets fifty, and third place gets twenty-five. Hold on a second. I have to flip something.”

The door swung closed and Hannah was left with a gaping mouth. If they won, what would they do with the money? By the time the door opened and Lisa appeared again, she’d decided. “If we win, I think we should split the money between Kiddie Korner and the Senior Center. They did all the work.”

“Perfect,” Lisa said, smiling her approval. “That’s exactly what I thought we should do. There’s one more thing I have to tell you. Andrea said that more robbery money surfaced last night. It’s only a little over four hundred dollars, but someone is definitely spending it in Winnetka County. Excuse me for a minute. I think these are ready.”

Lisa disappeared again and Hannah leaned back in her chair. She still didn’t know whether the robbery money had anything to do with Rhonda’s murder case, but the possibility couldn’t be dismissed out of hand.

“Breakfast is served,” Lisa called out, coming through the swinging door with two plates in her hands. She served Hannah first, then sat down across from her.

Hannah glanced at her breakfast. “These look like pancakes with sliced peaches.”

“That’s right.” Lisa handed her the container with packets of non-calorie sweetener. “Sprinkle a little sweetener over the top. They’re really good that way.”

Hannah tore open a packet and sprinkled it on top of the stack. Then she cut off a piece of pancake and tasted it. “They’re wonderful, Lisa. When you said low-cal, I thought I’d be getting cottage cheese for breakfast.”

“You are.”

Hannah blinked. “These have cottage cheese in them?”

“That’s right. My Aunt Kitty used to make them every time somebody in the family was on a diet.”

“They’re delicious.” Hannah took another forkful and smiled as she chewed and swallowed. “Thanks, Lisa. This is a real change from all those cold salads and bowls of plain cottage cheese. Are you sure they’re diet food?”

“I’m sure, but you can make them into regular food, too. Aunt Kitty used to serve them with sour cream and jam on the top. When she did that, she called them Poor Man’s Blintzes. I’ll give you the recipe if you want it.”

“I’d love to have it,” Hannah said, taking another bite.

They ate in silence for several minutes, polishing off the last of the pancakes. When they were through, Lisa pointed at the letter on the table. “What’s this?”

“It’s a letter to Mrs. Voelker that I found in Rhonda’s apartment.”

Lisa looked surprised. “Mike and Bill let you search Rhonda’s apartment?”

“No, Beatrice Koester did. She told me to go through Rhonda’s things to see if there was anything I needed. The relatives in Colorado didn’t want anything.”

“That was a lucky break for you,” Lisa said with a grin. “Did you find anything else interesting?”

Hannah told Lisa about the receipt from Browerville Travel and Rhonda’s one-way ticket to Zurich. “And that explains why Rhonda wasn’t upset when Jon fired her. She wasn’t planning to come back anyway.”

“What does the letter say?”

“I haven’t read it yet.”

“You’d better read it. It could be something important.”

“I know. I just feel funny about reading someone else’s private mail, that’s all.”

“Then throw it away.”

“I can’t throw it away without knowing what it says!”

“Then read it.” Lisa looked amused. “You’re making a mountain out of a molehill, Hannah, and that’s not like you at all. If the contents are private, don’t tell anyone about them. But if it’s important, you can turn it over to the right person.”

“You’re right, of course.” Hannah drew the letter out of the envelope before she could dither about it any longer. She unfolded the single sheet of tablet paper and began to read. As she skimmed the words, she let out a little cry of distress.

“What is it?” Lisa leaned forward in concern.

“It’s a tragedy,” Hannah said, swallowing past the lump in her throat.

Aunt Kitty’s Cottage Cheese Pancakes
(Poor Man’s Blintzes)

2 cups cottage cheese

4 eggs

½ teaspoon salt

½ cup flour

Mix cottage cheese, eggs, salt, and flour together in a small bowl. Let the mixture “rest” in the refrigerator for an hour (overnight is fine, too).

Heat a nonstick griddle to 350 degrees F., or use a frying pan that’s been sprayed with nonstick cooking spray. (The frying pan is ready when a drop of water sizzles and “dances” across the surface.)

Spoon pancake batter in pan or on griddle and fry until the bubbles on the surface of the pancake remain open. (You can check to see if the bottom side is done by lifting the edge with a spatula.) When the bottom side is a nice golden color, flip the pancake over and cook until the bottom color matches the top.

Place the finished pancakes on a plate, sprinkle artificial sweetener over the tops and add sliced fruit of your choice.

Poor Man’s Blintzes

Mix up the pancakes as directed and fry them. When they’re done, spread each pancake with butter and sprinkle with sugar. Top with spoonfuls of jam, add a generous dollop of sour cream, and enjoy.

Yield: 8 medium-sized pancakes.

Chapter
Twenty-Six

H annah cleared her throat and began to read the letter aloud. “I wish I was back in Lake Eden with you right now. They say I’m not going to make it and the guy next to me is going to find someone to take this letter out and mail it to you.”

“He’s dying?” Lisa whispered as Hannah looked up.

“That’s right. What makes you think this letter is from a man?”

“It sounds like he’s in a hospital and they don’t usually put a man and a woman together in one room.”

“Good point,” Hannah said and turned back to the letter again. “Thank you for being nice to me when I was a kid. You were the only one who played games with me. Remember the one where you hid those notes and sent me all over the house to find them? You always started with the cookie jar and that sent me to the grandfather clock, or the Bible. You taught me to read with those clues. I never would have learned in school. And you always made sure I found the prize at the end.”

“I know that game,” Lisa said. “Go on, Hannah.”

“I just wanted to tell you that I love you. If you get this letter, I didn’t make it. Keep putting up that peach jam of yours. It was always my favorite. And please say a prayer for me when you do it. ”

“That’s so sad,” Lisa commented, blinking away the tears that had gathered in her eyes. “Who sent it?”

“Someone named ‘Speedy.’ That’s got to be a nickname. I don’t know who Speedy is and anyone who might have known is dead.”

“Where did the letter come from?”

Hannah shrugged. “I don’t know. I can make out part of the date, it’s nineteen eighty-something, but the rest of the cancellation is blurred.”

“Well, at least Speedy had happy memories of his time in Lake Eden. He talked a lot about the Treasure Hunt game.”

“That’s what it’s called?”

“That’s what we called it. Mom used to play it with me every year on my birthday. She hid clues all over the house and she told me where to find the first one. When I found it, I read it and it told me where to find the second clue. There were always at least ten clues written out and when I came to the end, it told me where I’d find my birthday present.”

Hannah felt jealous for one brief second. Delores had never played the Treasure Hunt game with her. But that was in the past. “Thanks for telling me about it, Lisa. It sounds like fun.”

“It was. Do you want me to set out the rest of the day-old cookies? People might be hungry when they come in.”

“Good idea.” Hannah stuffed the letter back in her purse and shivered slightly. She’d just read the last words of a dying man, written to a woman who’d been dead and buried for months. To make things even more depressing, she’d found the letter in a murder victim’s apartment. There was only one thing to do to turn her mood around. Normally, she would have eaten some chocolate. That was the best antidote for depression. But since chocolate wasn’t one of the food groups allowed on her diet, Hannah did the next best thing. “Hold on and I’ll help you,” she said, levering herself up from the table and heading off to the kitchen to work.

By the time her extended family had arrived, Hannah was in much better spirits. They sat eating cookies, drinking coffee, and chatting until almost everyone who’d said they were coming had arrived.

“The only two missing are Mike and Bill,” Hannah commented, turning to Andrea. “Where are they?”

“Oh, they’re not coming. They’re helping with The Cookie Jar float. Mike’s towing it with his Jeep and Bill’s taking care of the mechanics.”

“The mechanics?”

Andrea looked contrite. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I don’t want you to know anything about the float ahead of time.”

“I don’t. And you didn’t actually say anything.”

“You’ll understand what I meant once you see it. I got the idea from the animated floats they build for the Rose Parade. It’s really a terrific concept.”

“I’m sure it is,” Hannah said, but she had to work to keep the smile on her face. If The Cookie Jar float was anything like the floats in the Rose Parade, Andrea had taken on a project that was much too difficult for a group of preschoolers and seniors to handle. It was bound to be a disaster, but it was too late to back out now and she was going to say she loved it, no matter what happened. She owed it to her sister.

Andrea reached out to squeeze her arm. “Don’t look so worried, Hannah. It’ll be great, you’ll see. It was almost working when I left to come here.”

“Great. I’m sure it’ll be perfect.” Hannah pushed back her chair. “The crowd’s lining up out there. We’d better claim a piece of sidewalk before all the good spots are taken.”

“No problem,” Norman said, rising to take her arm. “Come on, everyone. Just follow me and I’ll show you to your seats.”

Hannah was surprised as Norman led her through the crowd. They usually stood up to watch the parade. Then she saw the row of folding chairs that had been set up near the curb. Their names were printed on signs hanging from the backs, and Hannah felt like an honored guest as she took the chair with her name.

“This is a great idea, Norman.” Hannah smiled over at him.

“Thanks,” Norman said, glancing down at his watch. “Only five minutes to go. I’d better get my camera ready.”

There was flurry of activity as Lisa dispensed her disposable cameras and told everyone how to use them. She’d just finished when the vintage convertible carrying Mayor Bascomb and his wife rounded the corner. He was wearing a white straw boater with red, white, and blue ribbons around its brim, and she was dressed in a white dress with red and blue stripes. The parade had begun. The Cookie Jar float would be next.

Hannah applauded as the boys and girls from Tracey’s class marched around the corner. They were wearing sandwich boards shaped and colored like cookies, and each one was carrying a white wicker basket lined with red and blue paper napkins. As Hannah watched, they scattered into the crowd, offering the patriotic cookies that Hannah had baked and Lisa had decorated.

“They’re darling,” Hannah said, snapping a picture of Bertie Straub as she accepted a cookie from one of Tracey’s classmates. “Whatever you do, Norman, don’t miss getting a shot of Tracey.”

“I won’t. Andrea already cued me in. I’m supposed to catch her at the apex.”

“What apex?”

“You’ll see.”

The applause grew in volume and Hannah turned to look as two Jordan High students rounded the corner carrying a sign that read FIRST-PLACE WINNER .

“I told you we’d win!” Lisa shouted, running over to hug Hannah. Then she rushed over to hug Andrea, and all three of them laughed in excitement.

The applause grew even louder as Mike’s Jeep began to round the corner. The kids and seniors had draped red, white, and blue bunting on the sides. Mike looked incredibly handsome in a shirt that was printed in an American flag pattern. Hannah’s breath caught in her throat for a moment and her heart raced in her chest. To think that the most handsome man ever to set foot in Lake Eden chose to date her was very close to getting everything on your Christmas list. Reluctantly, she tore her eyes away from Mike and took her first look at The Cookie Jar float.

Hannah was aware that her mouth had dropped open, but she couldn’t help it. The float was a masterpiece, a giant cookie jar done in red, white, and blue. As Hannah watched, the cover flipped back and Tracey rose from the depths, her smile as wide as Eden Lake.

“Oh!” Hannah gasped, staring at her niece in awe. Tracey was wearing a Lady Liberty costume, complete with torch and crown, and she was as cute as a button. She started to wave regally at the crowd, but her enthusiasm got the best of her when she spotted Hannah.

“Hi, Aunt Hannah!” Tracey yelled out. “Do you like it?”

“I love it!” Hannah shouted back, and then Tracey began to sink slowly out of sight inside the giant cookie jar, reaching up at the last minute to close the lid behind her.

“Do you really love it?” Andrea asked, looking a bit anxious.

“It’s completely stupendous, marvelous, and fantastic,” Hannah assured her. “And Tracey looks just adorable. I saw Mike driving, but where’s Bill?”

“Can’t you tell? Bill’s down in the cookie jar, lifting Tracey up and down against counterweights.”

“Of course. The mechanics.” Hannah grinned at her sister. “Now I understand.”

“I knew he’d get the kinks worked out. Tracey’s standing in a box that Bill attached to counterweights. We were going to use hydraulics, but it made too much noise.”

One by one the floats passed by. Hannah didn’t think any of them could compare to The Cookie Jar float. She applauded with everyone else as the wheelchairs from the convalescent home came into view, the spokes of their wheels decked out with red, white, and blue crepe paper. Even the walkers were decorated with streamers and stars, and Jack Herman led the seniors in his Uncle Sam costume.

“Didn’t Dad look wonderful?” Lisa asked, racing back from the street where she’d taken her pictures.

“He looked positively dashing,” Hannah assured her. “Here’s my camera. I used up the whole roll. The last one’s a picture of Mrs. Robbins making eyes at your dad when he picked up the handkerchief she dropped.”

“Do they still drop handkerchiefs?” Lisa wanted to know.

“I don’t know, but Mrs. Robbins does. She’s eighty-five if she’s a day, so she might be a little behind the times.”

The Boy Scouts came next and then Bonnie Surma’s Brownies, followed by the Jordan High marching band. Hannah resisted the urge to cover her ears, especially when they stopped in the middle of her block to play. Their music was slightly less dreadful than before, and they were so enthusiastic, it made up for a multitude of missed notes and individual struggles with the tempo. Thankfully, blessedly, the bandleader had cut the piccolo obbligato and Hannah breathed a sigh of relief.

Delores, who didn’t know a sharp from a natural, tapped Hannah on the shoulder after they’d finished playing and marched on. “Weren’t they just wonderful?”

Hannah sputtered for a moment, trying to think of something honest to say. “They improved a lot from last year.”

Several more floats rolled by, but they couldn’t hold a candle to Andrea’s creation. Hannah applauded for the veterans, resplendent in uniforms that had been retrieved from trunks in dusty attics, and she did her share of clapping for The Lake Eden Players, who were dressed in the costumes they’d wear later for their reenactment of the signing of the Declaration of Independence. When the parade was over and she still hadn’t seen Bridget Murphy’s lemon car, Hannah figured that Cyril had fixed it to save himself the embarrassment.

“That’s it,” Norman said, folding up his chair. “I’m going to take these back to the funeral home and then I’ll develop the film.”

“These chairs are from the funeral home?” Hannah asked, not sure exactly how she felt about that.

“I borrowed them last night. Digger said to take as many as I needed. Professional courtesy, you know.”

“Professional courtesy?”

“He keeps hoping I’ll send him some business.”

“You mean like one of your patients dying?”

Norman shrugged, but there was a twinkle in his eye. “You know what people say about root canals. They’re killers.”

Hannah laughed as she helped Norman load the folding chairs in his trunk and she was still grinning when he drove away. Being with Norman always made her feel good. Then she said good-bye to the little group assembled on the sidewalk, went inside The Cookie Jar to help Lisa load up the cupcakes, and headed off to attend the municipal band concert before she drove out to the lake for an afternoon of games and other entertainment.

Hannah arrived at the area of lakeshore that had been designated for public parking with a smile on her face. The band concert in the park had been wonderful. The Lake Eden Municipal Band was a mixed conglomeration of musicians who had settled in the area. Anyone who wanted to put horn or woodwind in hand and practice every week at the community center was welcome. They’d played their full repertoire of Sousa marches and ended with the ever popular strains of “God Bless America.”

The town had turned out in full force at Eden Lake and Hannah trolled the parking area in vain for a spot. She finally settled for putting her truck in four-wheel drive and parking at the very edge of the lot, on top of the shoulder of the road.

Several hours later, after listening to two boring political speeches, attending one of the Lake Eden Players’ performances, and watching some of the games and contests, she wandered over to the picnic area to see if there was anything she could do to help Edna Ferguson, who was in charge of the potluck dinner.

“Hi, Edna,” Hannah said, trying not to stare at the older woman’s hair. Edna’s frizzy gray curls had undergone a transformation since the last time Hannah had seen her. Instead of Edna’s natural steel gray, her curls were now blue.

“I know. Looks like you-know-what,” Edna said, reaching up to swat at her curls. “Bertie talked me into a rinse the last time I was in and she didn’t tell me it would take weeks to wash out.”

“It looks very…colorful.”

“That’s tactful, Hannah, especially for you.” Edna chuckled. “All I need is a couple of red and white bows and I’ll be all decked out for the Fourth.”

“I came over to see if there was anything I could…”

“Of course there is,” Edna interrupted her. “You know no one else ever shows up when there’s work to be done. What’s the matter? Those two boyfriends of yours desert you?”

Hannah laughed. It was a waste of time to take offense at anything Edna said. She was outspoken and everyone knew it. “Not exactly. Mike had to go back to the station and Norman’s home, developing the film he took of the parade. I’m all yours, Edna.”

“Well good! You’re a lot more help than some people I could name. I suppose your sister’s bringing her Jell-O mold again. None of these young girls know how to cook. They’re not like you and me.”

Hannah bit back a choice retort. Edna was sixty if she was a day, and that made her at least thirty years older than Hannah. She’d lived in Lake Eden all her life and that gave Hannah an idea, especially since Edna had grown up on the family farm right next to the Voelker place. “You knew Mrs. Voelker, didn’t you, Edna?”

“Sure, I did. She put up the best peach jam in the county. Everybody around was real sorry when she got in that accident and ended up in the wheelchair. No more peach jam for the neighbors.”

Hannah nodded, wondering if people would speak of her that way when she was dead, mourning not her, but the loss of her cookies. “Do you remember a boy named Speedy that visited Mrs. Voelker?”

“Speedy?” Edna started to shake her head. “No, I don’t think…Yes, I do! He was some kind of shirttail relation and he spent a whole summer with her. That boy was a regular fishing fool. He used to race through his chores so he could get down to the lake to fish. That’s why she called him Speedy. Half the time she ended up stripping the cows herself after the morning milking, but she told us he had a hard time at home and she was going to see he had fun for a change.”

“Do you remember Speedy’s real name?”

Edna sighed. “Can’t say as I do. I suppose I knew it back then, but that was a long time ago.”

“Will you tell me if you think of it?”

“Sure will. So, is she?”

Hannah blinked. Edna had obviously switched to another topic of conversation. “Is she what?”

“Bringing her Jell-O mold. Andrea, that is.”

“Oh!” Hannah switched gears. “Not this time. She’s bringing chips and dip for the appetizer table.”

“Well, heaven be praised! One less Jell-O bowl to contend with. Why don’t you dump some ice in the bottom of some of those coolers we borrowed so we can refrigerate the things that we have to keep chilled. You didn’t bring a dessert with whipped cream, did you?”

“Would I do something like that?” Hannah asked, grinning at Edna.

“No, I don’t guess you would. Marge Beeseman will though. You mark my words. And she’ll put the whipped cream on at home, not leave it in the can the way it said to do in the flyer. And then she’ll complain because it drooped!”

Chapter
Twenty-Seven

“M mm!” Hannah voiced her approval as she tasted the beef Norman had barbecued. “Delicious.”

“Thanks, Hannah.” Norman, who was sitting on her right side at one of the picnic tables, looked pleased by the compliment.

“It sure is,” Mike commented from his spot at Hannah’s left side. “I used to do a little barbecuing, but my beef was never this good.”

“It’s all in the sauce. A cut like this has to be marinated overnight. That way the flavor gets all the way through. It’s not too much garlic for you?”

“Just right,” Mike said, cutting off another bite. “Any less would be lost and any more would be overdoing it. I’d sure like that sauce recipe if you’re giving it out.”

“I’ll give it to you. It works on chicken, too. All you have to do is double the mustard and cut back on the grated onion by half.”

Hannah glanced from one man to the other, trying to keep herself from chuckling. They sounded like a couple of housewives comparing notes and even though they’d both wanted to sit with her, they seemed content to talk to each other and ignore her. She let them talk on, comparing the merits of charcoal over gas and which wood chips were preferable, while she glanced around at the crowds of people who were contentedly stuffing their collective faces.

The sun was lowering in the sky and Hannah knew she’d have to run back to her truck to get her mosquito repellent. That reminded her that they never bit Norman, and she turned to Mike. “Do mosquitoes bite you?”

“Mosquitoes?” Mike looked startled, as if she’d pulled him out of the most intriguing conversation of his life. “Sure. They bite everybody.”

“Not Norman.”

“Is that right?” Mike leaned in front of Hannah to stare at Norman. “What’s your secret, Norman?”

Oh-oh. She’d started an all-male conversation again. Hannah sighed and turned back to people-gazing. Freddy Sawyer, dressed in jeans and a blue pullover with a picture of an American Eagle on the front, was leaning against a tree at the edge of the picnic area. Hannah was glad to see him here. Freddy had once told Hannah that the Fourth of July was his favorite holiday and he loved to watch the fireworks. Jed was only a few feet away, talking to a group of people Hannah didn’t recognize. He looked handsome tonight in a white cotton shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a denim vest that was embroidered with stars and stripes. It looked expensive and Hannah wondered if he’d spent his whole paycheck on it.

A young woman in the group was flirting with Jed and he smiled at her as she reached out to put her hand on his arm. Although he was clearly flirting back, Hannah was glad to see him turn slightly, so that he could keep Freddy in sight. Jed was taking his responsibility toward his cousin seriously, keeping tabs on him in the crowd.

Several children in the crowd began to cheer and Hannah turned toward the source of the excitement. The Lake Eden volunteer fire department had arrived in their fire truck. The hook and ladder was followed by one of Cyril Murphy’s dark green rental vans with light green shamrocks painted on the sides. Any child in the crowd old enough to remember the fireworks from the previous year knew that the van contained all the pyrotechnics for tonight’s display.

Hannah glanced over at the food tables. There were only a few stragglers going back for thirds. It was time to start putting the food away. She stood up, and both men stopped talking and turned to her. “I’m going to help Edna with the cleanup.”

“Sure,” Mike said.

“Okay,” Norman echoed the sentiment. “Do you need any help?”

“No, that’s okay.” Hannah headed off at a speedy clip, but not fast enough to miss hearing another all-male conversation begin. This one was about cars and the various advantages of the latest models.

By the time Hannah had helped with the cleanup and made a run to her truck to mosquito-proof herself and retrieve her quilt, she saw a fleet of rowboats heading out from the dock. The boats were riding low in the water and Hannah knew that the fireworks had been unloaded from the van and stacked in the bottom of the rowboats for transport to the rafts that would become launching pads. Most people in the tri-county area thought that the Lake Eden fireworks display was the best one around. The town council spent a small fortune every year on fireworks and the display seemed twice as large as it really was when the streamers of bursting colors were reflected off the surface of the lake. She found Mike and Norman on the lakeshore, sitting on the sand and claiming their patch of spectator space. They helped her spread out her quilt and before long the whole extended family had found spaces around them.

Darkness began to fall. Hannah could see dim lights, one on each of the rafts and more in the rowboats. She was sure that Joe Dietz was out there again this year. A retired warrant officer in Army Ordnance, Joe was in his seventies and he’d been directing the fireworks for as long as Hannah could remember. She spotted Jed moving through the crowd with a blanket roll under his arm. He’d put on a leather jacket over his shirt and vest, and Hannah wished she’d thought to bring hers. It wouldn’t be needed in town, but there was always a breeze near the lake and it could turn chilly when the last rays of sun had faded. For a moment, Hannah was concerned that Freddy was nowhere in sight, but then she remembered the group that Jed had been talking to earlier and how friendly they’d seemed. Freddy and the group were probably sitting on the sand, saving a place for the blanket that Jed had gone to fetch.

Once the sun had disappeared below the horizon, night fell rapidly. Hannah crossed her legs and sat “Indian style,” a phrase her first-grade teacher had used that was probably now politically incorrect.

Before Hannah really expected it, the fireworks began with a bang. It was a single bang and it was a loud one, causing her hands to fly up to cover her ears. She jumped, then laughed in delight. The Lake Eden fireworks always started this way, but it never failed to startle her.

The first loud bang was followed by a rapid series of bangs. Next there was a whoosh as a rocket shot up and burst overhead, raining down streamers of pink that were reflected on the surface of the lake. Hannah cheered with the rest of the crowd and at that exact moment, Norman reached out for her hand. A moment later, as a green blossom of fireworks burst in the sky, Mike reached out for her other hand.

Hannah sat there, hardly daring to breathe. What was the etiquette in a situation like this? Should she tell Mike she couldn’t hold hands with him because she was already holding hands with Norman? Or should she refuse to hold hands with both of them? Hannah thought about it through another series of rockets and multicolored streamers and came to a decision. Miss Manners was bound to disagree, but since neither Mike nor Norman seemed to be aware that his rival was holding her hand, the best thing to do was relax and enjoy it.

The crowd gave a collective gasp and then a prolonged “Oooooh” as two more pyrotechnic stars burst overhead, one red and one blue. Joe Dietz was doing a good job of mixing large displays with the smaller displays to make the fireworks last as long as possible. It was a perfect evening for the show. There was a light breeze that cleared away the smoke, so each flash looked as brilliant against the night sky as the one that had come before it.

They were only five minutes into the fireworks show when Mike’s police radio crackled and he held it up against his ear. He listened for a moment, responded with an “On my way,” and turned to Hannah. “They called me in. There’s a six-car pileup out on the highway with a bus involved.”

Mike stood up and no more than a second later, so did Lonnie. Another moment and Bill also got to his feet.

“They called everyone in?” Hannah asked.

“Everyone. It’s a bad one.” Mike turned to Norman. “Have you seen Doc Knight? The dispatcher said she couldn’t reach him on his pager.”

“He was talking to Edna a couple of minutes ago,” Norman said.

“Can you find him and tell him to go straight to the hospital? County’s setting up triage out there and they’ll be sending him some casualties.”

“I’ll find him and then I’ll drive out. If you have any facial injuries, I can help. Where’s the accident?”

“Two miles south of the Lake Eden turnoff. Thanks, Norman.” Mike motioned to Bill and Lonnie. “I brought the squad car. You can ride with me.”

In less time than it took to swat a mosquito, Hannah’s two Lotharios had deserted her and she was left sitting in the center of her quilt alone. Michelle was also alone, now that Lonnie had left, and so was Andrea.

“If you marry a cop, you go through a lot of nights alone,” Andrea commented with a sharp glance at Michelle. “You don’t have to like it, but you do have to cope with it.”

Hannah didn’t like the way this conversation was starting. As far as she was concerned, Lonnie was a better choice for Michelle’s boyfriend than the guy from New York who didn’t know beans about small-town life and thought Michelle’s descriptions of her hometown were humorous. She was about to horn in and change the subject when Delores reached back to tap her on the arm.

“Do you have an extra sweater in your truck, Hannah? It’s getting a little chilly.”

Hannah hesitated. If she offered her mother the ratty old hooded sweatshirt she carried in the back of her truck, it would lead to a long lecture about revising her wardrobe and weeding out the clothing that wasn’t fit to be worn. “No, but I’ll run to the cottage and get you a sweater.”

“But you’ll miss the fireworks.”

“Not if I walk along the shoreline. I can see it just fine from there. And the cottage is only about a block away.”

“Well, if you’re sure you don’t mind…. No! I’ve changed my mind! I don’t want you to go, Hannah!”

“Why not?” Her mother had sounded panicked.

“Because…well…” Delores leaned back and turned her head to whisper, “The killer could be out there.”

“Don’t worry, Mother. The shore is crowded with people. He wouldn’t attack me in front of all those witnesses.”

“But they wouldn’t be witnesses, not if they were looking up at the sky. And fireworks is perfect cover for a gunshot with all the banging and booming.”

“Things like that only happen in the movies.” Hannah was amused. Her mother was well intentioned, but totally irrational. “Besides, there wouldn’t be a gunshot because the killer doesn’t use a gun. Rhonda was stabbed, not shot.”

“You’re right. I forgot about that.” Delores sighed deeply. “Do you think I’m overreacting?”

“Yes, Mother.”

“Well…you’re probably right, but you’d better stay here. I’d just worry the entire time you were gone.”

“I’ll go along with Hannah,” Michelle offered. “There’s no way anyone would take on both of us. That would make you feel better, wouldn’t it, Mother?”

“Much better,” Delores said, and she sounded very relieved. “And while you’re there, you can put on the coffee. It would be nice to have a cup when the fireworks are over. And thaw that coffee cake I stuck in the freezer. Ten minutes in the microwave on defrost should do it. And would you carry out the garbage on your way back? I forgot to do it when I left.”

“Sure, Mother,” Hannah said, grabbing Michelle’s hand and making a quick getaway before their mother could think of more tasks for them to do.

Chapter
Twenty-Eight

“W e’re done,” Hannah said, gathering up the sweater they’d initially been sent to fetch and switching on the coffeepot. “Are you ready?”

“I’m ready.” Michelle came out of her room wearing a sweatshirt and a pair of jeans.

Hannah opened the front door and they both stepped out. “I’m locking it. Do you have the key?”

“I’ve got it.” Michelle whistled as a multicolored shower of streamers shot across the sky. “That was pretty spectacular. Is it the finale?”

Hannah glanced at her watch as another fiery flower blossomed in the sky. “Not yet. The show is supposed to run forty minutes this year. We’ve still got over twenty minutes left.”

The two sisters climbed down the steps to the shore by the light of the fireworks that were bursting in the sky. As they reached the bottom, a huge white shower rained down and Michelle gasped. “What’s that , Hannah?”

“What’s what?”

“That big thing sticking out under the dock. It wasn’t there this afternoon.”

“I don’t know, but I’ll find out.” Hannah walked closer and waited until another shower of lights illuminated the area. Her voice was sharp as she spoke again. “Is there a flashlight in the cottage?”

“Yes, Mother keeps one in the kitchen.”

“Go get it and bring it down here.”

Michelle turned and walked toward the steps. “Okay, but what is it?”

“Just get the flashlight, okay?”

The fates were kind and another volley of fireworks burst in the sky after Michelle had left. Hannah reached out toward the object and shuddered as she realized that the “thing” Michelle had seen was someone’s leg. Delores hadn’t been so crazy after all when she’d warned Hannah not to come here alone. Hannah stared at the leg for a moment and then she gave a deep sigh. There was only one thing to do and she was the only one here right now to do it.

It took all the strength that Hannah possessed, but she managed to free the ominously still form from its watery prison under the dock and pull it up onto the shore. By the time Michelle got back with the flashlight, Hannah had flipped it over. “Shine the flashlight, Michelle.”

Michelle turned on the flashlight and both sisters stared at the inert figure for a moment, the beam of light illuminating the bloody wound on Freddy Sawyer’s head.

“Is he dead?” Michelle asked, her voice shaking.

“Only one way to find out.” Hannah dropped to her knees and felt for a pulse. “Not yet, but it doesn’t look good. Run back to the cabin and call for an ambulance fast.”

“But there aren’t any. Lonnie said they were all called out to that accident out on the highway.”

“Right.” Hannah shook her head to clear it. The sight of Freddy’s still face and the awful wound on his head had rattled her. “Okay. I’ll take him to the hospital myself. I hate to ask, but can you stay here with him while I get my truck?”

“I’ll stay,” Michelle said.

Her baby sister sounded calm and that reassured Hannah. “Okay, I’ll be back just as fast as I can. Don’t try to move him. If he starts to thrash around, talk to him and do your best to hold him still. We don’t want that cut on his head to open up and start bleeding again.”

Hannah raced for her truck and made short work of driving it down to the shoreline. She backed up as close as she could, opened the rear doors, and got out to find Michelle still sitting right where she’d left her, holding Freddy’s hand. “Pulse?”

“It’s still there.” Michelle stood up and Hannah noticed that there were traces of tears on her cheeks. “How are we going to load him in?”

“Sideways. I’ll take his head and shoulders and you take his legs. If he’s too heavy for you, holler out and we’ll put him back down.”

“I can do it,” Michelle said, and she knelt by Freddy’s feet.

Hannah was about to lift Freddy’s shoulders when she caught a whiff of a telltale odor. “Do you smell anything, Michelle?”

“Yes, booze. Do you think Freddy got drunk and hit his head when he passed out under our dock?”

“I don’t know, but it’s a possibility. I’m ready to lift if you are.”

It wasn’t easy, but between the two of them they managed to load Freddy into the back of Hannah’s cookie truck. Hannah cushioned his head with the ratty old hooded sweatshirt her mother would have advised her to throw out, and shut the rear doors. “I’ll drive him straight to the hospital. Call and tell them I’m coming. Say it’s Freddy Sawyer and he’s got a bad head wound. They should meet me at the emergency entrance with a stretcher.”

“Okay, but don’t you want me to ride along to help?”

“You don’t have any medical training that I don’t know about, do you?”

“No.”

“Then you’re better off here. Make that call to the hospital and then go and tell Andrea and Mother what happened. I want all of you to look for Jed Sawyer and tell him that I’m driving Freddy to the hospital. I’ll call the cottage as soon as I have any news on his condition.”

“Got it,” Michelle said. “Good luck, Hannah.”

Hannah got in behind the wheel and lowered the window. “You’re really great in a crisis, Michelle.”

“Thanks.” Michelle gave a little smile. “I think I must have inherited that from you.”

By the time Hannah took the turnoff for the Lake Eden Memorial emergency entrance, her nerves were shot. She’d driven a distance of only ten miles, but it had been gruesome. Freddy had cried out and mumbled from the back of her truck and what she’d been able to understand had been heartbreaking. Freddy was upset because Jed was mad at him. Jed hated him and thought that Freddy was stupid. If Freddy could only get that present back for Jed, then Jed might forgive him and not go away. Then they could be friends again and everything would be all right.

Hannah had attempted to talk back to Freddy to reassure him, but she didn’t think he’d heard her. He’d just gone back to the mumbling again about how he had to give Jed the present.

About five miles from the hospital, Freddy had stopped mumbling. He’d groaned once or twice, and then he’d been disturbingly quiet. While Hannah had been hoping that Freddy would calm down and stop mumbling, his total silence had been worse. Hannah had tromped on the accelerator and prayed that he’d only lost consciousness and not died.

By the time she pulled up at the doors of the emergency room, Hannah was shaking like a leaf. She flicked her lights and honked her horn to let the E.R. staff know that she’d arrived, and then she cut her engine and leaned back in her seat, watching as the emergency room crew loaded Freddy on a stretcher.

Hannah sat for a few minutes, just working to get her breathing back to normal. When her legs had stopped shaking and she felt able to walk, she got out of her truck and went inside to the nurses’ desk. “I just brought in Freddy Sawyer,” she told the stern-looking older nurse who was behind the desk. “Is he…alive?”

“Yes. Doctor Knight’s with him right now.”

“Did he say anything about Freddy’s condition?”

“It’s borderline critical and they’re working to stabilize the patient. Doctor said to tell you that you did your part and you should go home and get some rest.”

“No way,” Hannah said, shaking her head. “I got Freddy this far and I’m not leaving now.”

The nurse smiled and she looked much less forbidding. “Doctor said you’d say that, and he’ll come to talk to you as soon as he can. That might be a while. He’s pretty backed up.”

“From the accident out on the highway?”

“They called in everyone from the staff and reserve list. I’m retired, but I came in to handle the intake desk. The big waiting room’s packed, but Doctor said you should use the small waiting room at the end of the hall. There’s a wall of vending machines near the door if you want something to eat or drink.”

Armed with a Diet Coke, Hannah checked out the small waiting room. The hard plastic chairs didn’t look appealing so she used the pay phone in the hall to call Delores and tell her that Freddy was at the hospital and Doc Knight was treating him.

“We located Jed,” Delores told her, “and the poor boy was beside himself. He said that Freddy was with him all day, but they got separated in the crowd when the fireworks started and he couldn’t find him anywhere.”

“Is he coming out here?” Hannah asked.

“He’s on his way. He said you’re a hero for saving Freddy’s life, but of course he meant heroine.”

The words had no sooner left Delores’s mouth than the door to the emergency room opened and Jed rushed in. “Jed’s here, Mother. I’ve got to go. I’ll call you back when I know more about Freddy’s condition.”

“Just a minute. Edna said to tell you it was a tree.”

Hannah was about to ask what that meant when she saw Jed’s face. “I’ve got to go, Mother. Jed looks frantic.”

Hannah hung up the phone and hurried over to Jed. “It’s okay, Jed. Doc Knight’s with Freddy right now.”

“How is he?”

“I don’t know for sure. Let’s go sit in the small waiting room. Doc Knight said he’d come and tell us more when he’s finished treating Freddy.”

Jed followed Hannah to the waiting room and sat down in a chair across from hers. He was still clearly distraught. “I tried to keep an eye on Freddy, but I turned my back for just a second to talk to somebody. When I turned around again, he was nowhere in sight.”

“Nobody’s blaming you, Jed. These things can happen.”

“Yes, but I should have been more careful with him. Sometimes I forget he’s retarded, you know? Most of the time he acts almost normal.”

Hannah didn’t know what to say to calm him down.

“Your sister told me that Freddy was hurt real bad. How did it happen?”

“I don’t know.”

“Couldn’t Freddy tell you?”

“No, he was semiconscious when we found him and he didn’t respond to any of my questions. And on the way to the hospital all Freddy did was mumble about how mad you were at him.”

Jed sighed. “I wasn’t real mad at him. I was just a little aggravated, you know? Freddy kept asking me if he could set off some firecrackers and I told him he couldn’t. After about the dozenth time he asked, I got a little fed up. I guess I should have had more patience with him.”

“That’s hard to do sometimes.”

“I know. I’d already explained that fireworks were dangerous and Freddy could burn himself. I said it over and over, every way I could think of, but he just didn’t get it.”

Hannah decided it was time to take the bull by the horns. “I hate to mention this Jed, but when we loaded Freddy in my truck, he smelled like alcohol. Did he have anything to drink today?”

“No! And I didn’t drink either, because I know it’s a bad influence on Freddy.”

“I’m glad to hear that, but I’m almost positive that Freddy smelled of alcohol. My sister smelled it, too.”

Jed was silent for a moment and then he sighed. “I know Freddy didn’t have anything when we were together, but maybe somebody gave him a beer or something after we got separated. Do you think he got drunk and hit his head on something?”

“That’s certainly possible. We’ll know more when Doc Knight comes in to talk to us.”

Hannah and Jed waited uneasily and every so often one or the other of them would get up and pace across the tile floor of the waiting room. It was almost impossible to sit in the plastic chairs for long. They were so hard, they gave Hannah aches in places she didn’t even know she had.

After about fifteen minutes of pacing and sitting, sitting and pacing, Doc Knight appeared in the doorway. “Hey, Hannah. Are you trying out for the paramedic spot I have open?”

“No. Thanks anyway. This is Freddy’s cousin, Jed.”

“We’ve met,” Doc Knight said, looking at Jed. “Freddy’s stable, but it’s very serious.”

Jed gulped so loud Hannah could hear him. “But he’ll be all right though, won’t he?”

“It’s too early to tell, but it doesn’t look as though his injuries are life threatening. They could have long-lasting results, though. Freddy took a massive blow to the head and I won’t be able to assess the extent of inter-cranial damage until the test results are in.”

“Does it look like he fell and hit his head?” Jed asked.

Doc Knight shook his head. “Not unless he fell off a tall building head-first. My guess is that someone hit him with a hard object like a tire iron that they wielded with considerable force.”

“Freddy couldn’t tell you what happened?”

“No, son. He was unconscious when Hannah brought him in. Freddy won’t be doing any talking for a while.”

“Poor Freddy!” Jed looked extremely distressed. “Can I see him?”

“Come with me.”

Hannah followed Jed and Doc Knight down the hospital corridor even though Jed had been the one to ask to see Freddy. They hadn’t told her she couldn’t come along, so she convinced herself that it was all right. Hannah knew she’d rest easier tonight if she saw Freddy and he looked better than he had when they’d loaded him in the back of her truck.

Doc Knight led them into Freddy’s room and Hannah felt the tears well up in her eyes. Freddy, who’d always seemed so full of life and enthusiasm, was perfectly still in his hospital bed. It was a shock seeing him immobile like that and Hannah realized that he looked much older, almost as old as he actually was without the boyish grin and the excited voice that had asked constant and sometimes childish questions.

Freddy was connected by tubes and wires to monitors and other medical equipment, and Hannah was almost glad that he wasn’t awake. If Freddy had been conscious, she would have forced herself to be bright and cheerful for his sake and that would have been difficult.

As Hannah moved closer, she noticed what she thought was a respirator and she turned to Doc Knight. “Freddy can’t breathe on his own?”

“Not right now. Shortly after you brought him in, his throat began to swell and it compromised his airway. I gave him antibiotics to reduce the swelling, but they’ll take time to work.”

Jed looked very concerned. “You mean Freddy could die without that machine?”

“Yes, but it’s only a temporary condition. The antibiotics should improve matters by tomorrow morning. Then we can take him off the respirator.”

“I’d better stay here tonight.” Jed sat down in the chair by Freddy’s bed. “If Freddy wakes up in the middle of the night, he’ll be scared and he might try to pull that tube out.”

Doc Knight shook his head. “We’re keeping Freddy heavily sedated and he won’t wake up. There’s nothing you can do for him now. What you need to do is go home, get some sleep, and come back in the morning. I’ll call you if there’s any change in his condition.”

“Are you sure? I could sleep in this chair and I wouldn’t be any trouble.”

“I’m sure you wouldn’t be, but Freddy’s doing just fine and he’ll sleep through the night. I need you to be rested for tomorrow when we wake him up. That’s when we’ll need your help to reassure him.”

Jed looked disappointed that he couldn’t stay with Freddy, but he nodded. “Whatever you say. You’re the doctor.”

“If you don’t have any more questions, I have to get back to the emergency room. I’ve got some traffic injuries to treat.”

“Sure,” Jed said. “Thanks for everything.”

After Doc Knight left, Hannah motioned toward the door. “Come on, Jed. Let’s go out to the lobby and call my mother. Everybody’s waiting to hear about Freddy.”

The corridor was quiet as Hannah and Jed walked back to the lobby. Most of the patients were sleeping, and only two nurses were manning the station that separated the two wings.

“They only have two nurses for all these patients?” Jed sounded worried again.

“Relax, Jed. Doc Knight runs a good hospital. Freddy will get the best of care here.”

When they got to the lobby, Hannah placed a call to the cottage and filled Delores and Michelle in on Freddy’s condition. Then Jed got on the phone and thanked them again for finding him in the crowd.

“You really should get home, Jed,” Hannah said when she’d hung up the phone. “You look tired.”

“I am, but I don’t think I can sleep. I’m just too worried about Freddy. Do you have time for a cup of coffee in the cafeteria?”

“Sure,” Hannah said, even though the last thing she wanted was hospital coffee. Jed obviously needed to talk.

The hospital cafeteria was deserted and Hannah took a table near the window while Jed got them coffee from a vending machine. It was every bit as vile as Hannah had expected and she took small sips, hoping he wouldn’t notice that she was drinking very little of it.

“I’ve been thinking about what Doc Knight said and I’m sure Freddy was in a fight.” Jed took a swallow of his coffee without seeming to notice how bad it was. “If I ever catch the guy that did this to him, I’ll…”

“No, you won’t,” Hannah interrupted, reaching out to take Jed’s arm. “Believe me, Jed, I know exactly how you feel. I’m not a violent person, but I’d be tempted to hammer the person who did this to Freddy. What we both have to remember is that violence is never the answer.”

“But I’ve got to do something! Just seeing him like that…it was awful!”

“I know, but the authorities will take care of it. As soon as Freddy’s well enough, Doc Knight will call in a deputy to take his statement. If someone did attack Freddy, they’ll be caught and punished.”

Jed sighed deeply. “I guess you’re right. I just feel so helpless, you know?”

“I know. I’ve been trying to think of something I could do for Freddy, but there’s only one thing that comes to mind.”

“What’s that?”

“Freddy kept mumbling about the present he had for you and how he had to get it so that you wouldn’t be mad at him any longer.”

“That sounds like Freddy.” Jed sighed again. “He doesn’t have much money, but he always wants to buy me things.”

“Oh, he didn’t buy this. He said it was something you lost and he found in your garbage last week. He told me he had to shine it up for you before he gave it back to you for a present.”

“Do you know what it is?”

“I don’t have a clue.” Hannah shrugged. “Freddy had it in a shoebox, but it was tied up with twine and I didn’t look inside. I’m keeping it for him at The Cookie Jar. I’ll stop in to get it before I come to the hospital tomorrow morning. We can store it in his hospital room and once Freddy’s awake, he can give it to you.”

Jed looked amused. “Freddy’s always giving me little things that he finds. It’s probably an old pair of shoes I got rid of.”

“But you’re going to be delighted to get it back, whatever it is, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely.” Jed gave her a grin. “Freddy’s a sweet guy and I wouldn’t spoil his surprise for anything in the world.”

Chapter
Twenty-Nine

H annah glanced at the clock on the wall as she switched on the lights in her kitchen at The Cookie Jar. It was five minutes past ten—late at night to be mixing up cookie dough. She was closed tomorrow and Sunday so there were no cookies to bake for her customers, but she’d promised to donate some cookies to the Redeemer Lutheran bake sale and she wanted to take Freddy some Molasses Crackles. She’d mix up a batch, let them chill overnight, come in early to bake them, and split them between Reverend Knudson and Freddy.

As Hannah assembled her ingredients, she thought about Freddy and who might have injured him. It was possible that Rhonda’s killer was the culprit, especially if Freddy had seen or overheard something that could lead to his arrest. Hannah freely admitted that such a theory was a little far-fetched, but she refused to believe that any of the local residents were to blame. Freddy was well liked around town and everyone knew that he had limitations. It was more likely that someone who wasn’t local had attacked Freddy. The fireworks had drawn a big crowd from outside the Lake Eden area and a stranger could be the culprit. In any event, standing at the workstation thinking about it wasn’t going give her the answer.

On her way to fetch one of her stainless-steel mixing bowls, Hannah retrieved the crime-scene photos she’d taken through the basement windows and spread them out at the workstation. While she was mixing the cookie dough, she’d think about Rhonda’s murder. She gave the photos a glance as she waited for the butter to melt in the microwave, but she didn’t spot anything she hadn’t noticed before. The only thing unusual was the strawberry jam on the peach jam shelf. She was almost certain that the three jars of strawberry jam had been set there to replace the three jars of peach jam that had broken on the floor, but why would anyone go to that trouble and not sweep up the broken glass?

Once the butter was melted, Hannah went to fetch the molasses from the pantry. As she took down the jar, she noticed what was stashed behind it and she groaned. It was a large bag of Hershey’s Kisses she’d bought for her almond cookies and it was staring her right in the face. She had to hide it quickly before she weakened and opened it. Hannah reached down to grab a sack of pecans and placed them in front of the bag. She kept all of her nuts on the shelf below, but this was just a temporary measure to hide the candy from view. Then she carried the molasses back to the kitchen, picked up her spoon, and set it right back down again as what she’d just done struck her with full force. She’d hidden her Hershey Kisses from view by placing a sack of pecans from a lower shelf in front of them. What if Rhonda’s killer had done the same thing? What if he’d hidden something by placing the jars of strawberry jam in front of it?

That theory seemed reasonable and Hannah made a mental note to tell Mike and Bill about it in the morning. Perhaps the murder weapon was hidden there, or some other clue that might help them track down Rhonda’s killer. It was certainly worth a look.

Hannah mixed in the molasses and then the sugar, stirring much longer than was necessary. The three jars of strawberry jam had been on the peach jam shelf and Mrs. Voelker’s letter had mentioned the peach jam. Hannah set down her spoon and went to retrieve it from her purse. Lisa was sure that the game Speedy had mentioned was the Treasure Hunt game. What if this whole letter was the first clue in a game he wanted Mrs. Voelker to play? Speedy had practically begged her to make peach jam and it was obvious he hadn’t known that she was in a wheelchair and her jam-making days were behind her. What if there really was a treasure behind Mrs. Voelker’s peach jam? Was it still there?

She thought about that while she grated fresh nutmeg and added the rest of the spices to her bowl. She measured out the baking soda and salt, and stirred everything up. Giving a little shake of her head, Hannah turned back to the letter. One phrase stood out. The guy next to me is going to find someone to take this letter out and mail it to you. Take the letter out? Out where? What sort of hospital would refuse to mail a patient’s last letter?

A prison hospital! The moment that answer occurred to Hannah, the whole thing made sense. If the dying man had been in prison, all correspondence in or out would have been examined by prison officials and it was obvious that this man hadn’t wanted his letter screened.

Hannah thought about that as she beat the eggs and added them to her bowl. Who was Speedy? And why had he been in prison? Edna had remembered the summer he’d spent with Mrs. Voelker, but she hadn’t been able to remember his real name. She’d promised to tell Hannah if she remembered, but so far there’d been no word from Edna, unless…

Delores had given her a message from Edna, but she hadn’t paid much attention to it. Edna had said to tell her that it was a tree. Speedy’s name was a type of tree?

Hannah set down the flour canister so hard, a little puff of flour rose up into the air. She paged through her notes, came to the section about the bank robbery, and let out a whoop. One of the bank robbers was David Aspen and an aspen was a tree. This put a whole new spin on things!

The pieces of the puzzle began to align themselves as Hannah measured out the flour. David “Speedy” Aspen had robbed a bank and hidden the money somewhere, perhaps in Mrs. Voelker’s basement. Since she’d known him as a child, she would have welcomed him if he’d come to visit. The stolen money couldn’t be behind the jam jars. The shelf was shallow and stacks of bills would have taken up more space than that. But the furnace room was old and the walls and floor were dirt. Speedy could have cut a hole in the back of the shelf, dug a cave right into the dirt wall, hidden the money there, and stuck the board back in place. With peach jam on the shelves blocking the cut board from view, no one would ever have found it.

But someone had found it. The money was beginning to surface in the Lake Eden area. Hannah remembered Rhonda’s one-way ticket to Zurich as she added flour to her bowl and another piece of the puzzle clicked into place. She’d wondered how Rhonda could afford to stay in Europe and now she knew the answer. Swiss banks had numbered accounts and they were a perfect place to hide the stolen money.

The puzzle was starting to take form now that she had some key pieces. The letter had been in Rhonda’s apartment. That meant she’d found it before the night of her death. And if Mrs. Voelker had played the Treasure Hunt game with Speedy, she’d probably played it with Rhonda, too. Rhonda might even have known about the robbery, since the robber was a shirttail relation of hers. Rhonda could have found the letter with her great-aunt’s effects, gone down to the basement to check the jam shelf, and realized that the stolen money was stashed in the furnace room wall.

As Hannah added more flour to her bowl, she asked herself another question. If Rhonda had found the letter shortly before she’d bought that one-way ticket, why hadn’t she removed the money and taken it back to her apartment? Hannah thought about that as she stirred, and then she remembered what Beatrice Koester had told her about Rhonda’s apartment. They’d replaced the carpet and repainted it in June. That meant workmen had been going in and out while Rhonda had been at work. Rhonda must have decided that the money would be safer in her great-aunt’s basement where it had been hidden, undiscovered, for years. It was the reason Rhonda had hesitated about signing the deed. She’d wanted to make absolutely sure that she could go out to the house over the weekend to pick up a few mementos.

“A few mementos,” Hannah muttered, stirring for all she was worth. “A fortune in stolen money is more like it!”

Suddenly another piece of the puzzle fell into place. When Ken Purvis had left Rhonda on Friday night, she must have decided that it was a perfect time to retrieve the money. Although Ken had believed that Rhonda was stuck without a way back to town, Hannah knew that Rhonda had been a resourceful woman. She could have walked to the neighboring farm to call a taxi, gone out to the road to flag down a passing resident, or stayed overnight and dealt with the problem in the morning. Rhonda had packed up that money. Hannah was sure of that. And the killer had caught her in the act of retrieving it and murdered her for the stolen cash.

Hannah had the motive. It was greed, and greed could be powerful. Hannah added the rest of the flour to her bowl and stirred it in, thinking about the money that had surfaced. Rhonda’s killer had it now and he was spending it. One ten-dollar bill from Lake Eden Neighborhood Drugs had surfaced in her own shop on Wednesday. Someone had shopped in the drugstore that morning and passed a ten-dollar bill from the old bank robbery.

“Oh-oh,” Hannah groaned, remembering the theory she’d discarded when she’d discovered that the bank robbers had never been prisoners at Stillwater. She might have crossed Jed off her suspect list too soon. He’d been spending a lot of money lately and he couldn’t be making that much doing handyman work. There was the late-model pickup truck, the lunches at the café every day, and the expensive hand-embroidered vest that he’d been wearing at the celebration today.

Hannah tore off a strip of plastic wrap and covered her mixing bowl, smoothing down the edges to make a tight seal. Was Jed Rhonda’s killer? Mike had told her that they’d found Jed’s cap in the basement. What if he hadn’t left it there when he’d replaced the glass in the window? What if he’d dropped it when he’d killed Rhonda?

A likely scenario began to take shape in Hannah’s mind. Ken Purvis hadn’t seen a car in the driveway when he’d driven up on the night that Rhonda was killed, but that was before Jed had bought the pickup, and he would have been driving Freddy’s mother’s old car. He’d told Hannah that the starter was defective and he had to park it at the top of the hill. What if Jed had left the car on the shoulder of the road and walked in?

Hannah’s mind went into overdrive. If Jed had knocked on the door and gotten no answer, he might have looked in the windows to see if Rhonda was there. And if he’d seen Rhonda in the basement packing up the money, he could have gone inside, killed her, and taken the cash. Jed was strong. He could have dug her grave in the hard-packed dirt floor before Ken Purvis drove up and frightened him away. And in Jed’s haste to hide the board that covered the hole in the wall, he could have dropped three peach jam jars and replaced them with the strawberry jam.

Another part of the scenario occurred to Hannah and she gulped. Was Jed the one who’d attacked Freddy and left him for dead under their dock? If Freddy had somehow discovered that Jed had killed Rhonda, he would have told someone. Mrs. Sawyer had taught her son to be a good citizen and Freddy knew that murder was wrong. Had Jed’s concern at the hospital tonight been because Freddy was injured? Or had he been concerned that Freddy would recover enough to tell someone that Jed had attacked him and killed Rhonda? Just as soon as she put her cookie dough in the cooler she’d call Mike and tell him her suspicions. If she was right and Jed was the killer, he’d been duping everyone in town, including her!

Preoccupied with this theory, Hannah opened the walk-in cooler and stepped inside to find a convenient place for her bowl of cookie dough. She’d just moved some things around to make room when the door slammed shut and she was plunged into darkness. She grabbed the cord that hung down from the light, flicked it on, and whirled toward the door. It had never banged shut on its own before! She stepped forward to push the inside release, but it was jammed. What was going on!?

As Hannah stood there, trapped inside her cooler, she heard someone rummaging around in her kitchen. It had to be Jed, and unless her theory was full of holes, he was the one who’d shut her in. “Let me out, Jed!” she shouted.

“Sorry, no can do.” Jed’s voice was faint through the heavy metal door. “You’re gonna have to stay there.”

Even though Jed’s voice was barely audible, Hannah could tell that he was slurring his words. He’d been drinking and that didn’t bode well for her. “Come on, Jed. This isn’t funny.”

“’Course it’s not. There’s nothing funny about dying and that’s what this is all about. Maybe you figured it out and maybe you didn’t. I can’t take any chances.”

A shiver went down Hannah’s spine and it had nothing to do with the temperature of the cooler. It would do no good to protest that she hadn’t figured anything out, because Jed was standing in her kitchen and he must have spotted the crime-scenes photo and Mrs. Voelker’s letter. Still, it was worth a shot and she took it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Just let me out now and you won’t get into any trouble over this. I promise I won’t say a word about it.”

“You think I’m as dumb as Freddy?” Jed’s laughter rang out. “I’m plugging up the air vent. When your air runs out, you’ll die.”

Hannah banged on the door with her fists, then she shouted out, “Why are you doing this, Jed? Are you crazy?”

“Maybe, but that’s better than being dumb. Freddy told me about that present you hid for him and he even confessed what it was. But the stubborn retard wouldn’t tell me where he hid it. Thanks to your big mouth, I know it’s right here.”

Hannah’s mind flashed on Freddy’s still form in the hospital bed and she shivered. “Did you try to kill Freddy?”

“’Course I did. He was gonna blab, sooner or later. I poured booze over him so it’d look like he was drunk and he fought with someone, but you and your sister got there too quick. You should’ve let him die in peace. Now I’m going to have to go back to the hospital and finish the job.”

“The nurses won’t let you near him!” Hannah countered, even though she knew it wasn’t true. If Jed turned on the charm and asked to take a peek at his cousin, the nurses would think he was wonderful for caring so much.

“The nurses won’t even know I’m there. I unlatched the window before I left. It’ll be easy to sneak into Freddy’s room right after they check on him at midnight. It was real nice of you to notice that respirator. All I have to do is shut it off and it’ll take care of Freddy for good. He’s so stupid he doesn’t deserve to live anyway.”

Hannah saw red. Jed had been living a lie, pretending to like Freddy and freeloading by living in his house. This con man and killer had taken them all in and she wished she had superhuman powers so that she could tear the cooler door off its hinges and break Jed in two like a matchstick.

“You know, you were always pretty nice to me, giving me all those free cookies and stuff. I’m starting to feel real bad about locking you in and leaving you to die. If you tell me where you put that shoebox Freddy gave you, I might just give you a break. I could always unplug that vent and they’ll find you in a couple of days. I might even call to tell them where you are. I’m gonna be in a real good mood once I start spending all that cash.”

Hannah recognized the ploy for what it was. Jed would kill her whether she told him where the shoebox was, or not. But why not tell him, especially since the box was hidden in the perfect place? Hannah picked up the heaviest thing she could find, the bowl of cookie dough she’d just mixed, and moved close to the door. “If I tell you where it is, you’ll let me go?”

“Sure. Where it is?”

“Right here in the cooler,” Hannah said, tightening her grip on the metal bowl.

Jed laughed long and hard. “Nice try, but I don’t believe you. You’re probably holding something heavy right now, getting ready to take a swing at me when I open the door. It’d be nice to have that shoebox and I’ll look around some before I leave, but I can get along without it. Nobody around here will guess it belonged to me once you and Freddy are dead.”

Hannah pressed her ear to the cooler door and she heard Jed rummaging around in her kitchen, banging cupboard doors. He searched for about five minutes and then she heard the back door open and close behind him.

A shudder ran through Hannah’s body, from the top of her head down to the tip of her toes. She was trapped and no one would think to look for her here. Why hadn’t she listened to Andrea when she’d urged her to get a cell phone? If she had one, she could call to warn the hospital that Jed was coming to kill Freddy at midnight and she could tell them to send someone to rescue her. But she didn’t have a cell phone and even if she had, it was doubtful that she would have carried it into the cooler with her.

Hannah did her best to stay calm and consider her options. There weren’t many, but it would take a while for the air to run out and she wasn’t dead yet. Banging on the cooler wall wouldn’t do any good. It was thick and there was no one around to hear her anyway. Nobody ever came down the alley at night except…

Herb Beeseman! Hannah glanced at her watch. It was ten forty-five and Herb made his rounds at eleven o’clock every night. He wouldn’t be able to hear her if he just drove down the alley, but if the alarm in Granny’s Attic went off, that would get him out of his squad car.

Hannah did her best to concentrate. She had to make the alarm in Granny’s Attic go off. It was rigged to trigger every time the power failed and it shared a circuit with her freezer and her cooler. If she could figure out a way to short out that circuit, the alarm would sound and Herb would respond. He’d check Granny’s Attic first, but then he’d come into The Cookie Jar. And when he came into her kitchen to check to see that her freezer and cooler were still working, she’d use the metal bowl with the dough she’d just mixed to bang on the cooler door for all she was worth.

How could she short out the circuit? Hannah glanced around her. She couldn’t get at any switches, but there was an electrical panel near the floor in the back. She got down on her hands and knees to examine it and started to frown. It was held in place by screws and she didn’t have a screwdriver. She spent precious minutes trying to loosen the screws with her fingernails, but the last repairman who’d come to check the cooler had tightened the screws down much too diligently.

Hannah sat down and sighed. What could a person use for a screwdriver if a person didn’t have a screwdriver? She’d once used a table knife, much to the dismay of her father who’d caught her doing it, but she didn’t have a table knife either. She took a deep breath, let it out again to relax, and that was when she remembered that Rhonda had been stabbed with a knife. Jed had been very anxious to recover that shoebox Freddy had given her and that meant there was something important inside. It had to contain the knife that Jed had used to stab Rhonda!

Hannah stood up to get the shoebox and sat back down to open it. She was chilled to the bone and her fingers were shaking so hard, she could barely untie the twine. When she lifted the lid and unrolled the old rag that was inside, she let out a cry of pure relief. It was a hunting knife, a long one with a sturdy, wicked-looking blade. She was about to grab it when she realized that the handle was metal and it might have fingerprints on it.

This consideration didn’t stop Hannah for long. Her situation was growing more desperate by the minute. She grabbed one of the nonskid mats that lined the cooler shelves and used it for a glove. Then she leaned forward and began to loosen the screws that held the cover of the electrical panel in place.

It took a few minutes, but at last the cover came off and Hannah stared at the array of wires inside. She could pull them loose, but that might not short out the circuit.

Hannah leaned closer to peer inside the panel. There was a caution sticker on one part, a warning to shut off the power before attempting to replace that part and to use properly insulated tools. Hannah glanced down at the metal blade of the knife. The power was on, and the knife blade wasn’t insulated. That made two out of two warnings she would ignore and it ought to do the trick. Unfortunately, the handle of the knife was also metal and she could fry. On the other hand, she was going to die anyway and it was worth a shot, especially if she wrapped the knife handle in the nonskid mat again.

Once that was accomplished, Hannah prepared for action. She had to hurry. Herb would be coming down the alley any minute. She took a split second to decide where to plunge the knife and decided to aim for the red sticker that read “Danger.” The cooler light would go out when the circuit blew, so she pushed the mixing bowl right up against the cooler door. Then she turned back to the open panel, took a deep breath, and stabbed.

The moment the tip of the knife blade hit the danger sticker, a huge ball of light knocked Hannah flat on her back. Despite the fact that she was seeing stars, Hannah sat up, crawled to the door, and listened. The alarm was going off next door. She’d done it and she was still alive! Now all she had to do was wait for Herb and bang on the cooler door when he came into her kitchen.

It seemed like forever, crouching there in the dark, but at last Hannah heard the back door open and she banged on the cooler door as hard as she could. A second later, she heard a mumbled expletive and then a shout.

“Hannah? Are you in there?”

“Yes!” Hannah shouted back at the top of her lungs.

“The handle’s padlocked, but I’ve got bolt cutters in the cruiser. Just sit tight for a minute.”

Just sit tight? Hannah started to giggle with a mixture of relief and anxiety. What else could she do but sit tight? She giggled as she heard Herb cutting off the padlock, and she giggled when she heard him open the door. She was still giggling when he pulled her to her feet and gathered her into his arms. Then she remembered about Freddy and her giggles stopped abruptly.

“What happened, Hannah?”

“Later,” Hannah said, taking a huge gulp of welcome air. “Do you have a police radio in your patrol car?”

“Sure.”

“Get through to the sheriff’s department and tell them to post a deputy in Freddy Sawyer’s hospital room. He’s going to be murdered at midnight. Tell them not to let anyone but Doc Knight in or out until they hear from me.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m positive. Would a woman who’s been locked inside her own cooler by a stone-cold killer lie to you?”

Herb looked as if he wanted to ask a million questions, but he turned on his heel and rushed out to his patrol car to make the call. By the time he came back in, Hannah had already called the hospital and Doc Knight had promised to send his biggest orderly to stand guard in Freddy’s room until the deputy arrived. She’d also retrieved the murder weapon and packed it and the nonskid mat in Freddy’s shoebox.

“Now will you tell me what happened?” Herb asked, staring at Hannah with a mixture of alarm and admiration.

“I’ll tell you on the way out to the sheriff’s station. I know who killed Rhonda and I need to give them the facts. And I know who has that old bank robbery money, too.”

“And you want me to drive you out there?”

“Rhonda’s killer is the one who locked me in my cooler and plugged up the air vent. I think I’m still a little shaky from the cold and the lack of oxygen. Not only that, I had to short out the power with the murder weapon and I got knocked back against the wall.”

“No problem,” Herb said, holding the door open for her.

“Good. Mike’s not going to be too happy about the murder weapon. I bent it a little when I used it for a screwdriver and it’s got a burn hole in the blade from shorting out the power. Maybe they can still lift some fingerprints if I didn’t smudge them with the nonskid mat. Are you sure you don’t mind driving me?”

“Anytime, Hannah.” Herb shook his head as they went out the door. “Let me see if I got this straight. You got locked in the cooler by Rhonda’s killer, you used the murder weapon as a screwdriver and a tool to short out the circuit, you discovered that Freddy was targeted for murder at midnight tonight, and you know who has the loot from that old bank robbery?”

“That about sums it up. I’m sorry about pulling you away from your rounds, Herb. I owe you, big-time.”

“Maybe I should listen in at the sheriff’s station. Then you won’t have to explain it all twice.”

“That’s a good idea. I’ll tell them I want you with me.”

“Okay, then you already paid me back.” Herb opened the door of his patrol car for Hannah and helped her in.

“How did I pay you?” Hannah asked, buckling her seat belt and leaning back for the ride.

“I’ll be there to see the expression on Mike’s face when you explain all this. Believe me, Hannah. You paid me big-time!”

Chapter
Thirty

“Y ou look great, Hannah,” Norman said as Hannah approached the largest table in the dining room at the Lake Eden Inn.

“Thanks, Norman.” Hannah gave him a warm smile and then she turned to Delores and Carrie. “You’re here early.”

Delores nodded. “I know. I wanted everything to be perfect.”

“I’m sure it will be.” Hannah pulled out a chair, but her mother shook her head.

“Not there, dear. I want you to sit on Norman’s right.”

Hannah rolled her eyes, but she took the chair her mother indicated. Delores always liked to arrange the seating at her parties, and she was the one who’d invited them for dinner to celebrate the solving of Rhonda’s murder case.

“Aren’t these flowers gorgeous?” Delores gestured toward the colorful centerpiece of summer flowers. “Herb Beeseman sent them. They must be for you.”

“For me?” Hannah was puzzled.

“Of course. You solved Rhonda’s murder. But you really should have brought a gift for Herb. He’s the one who rescued you from that cooler.”

“I did bring something for Herb,” Hannah defended herself. “He’s been asking for pineapple cookies for ages and I came up with a new cookie bar recipe. They’re called Pineapple Right-Side-Up Bars and they’re in Sally’s kitchen, along with my pizza cutter.”

Norman looked puzzled. “Your pizza cutter?”

“It’s something I learned from my college roommate. Cynthia always used a pizza cutter on pans of brownies. It works better than a knife.”

“Hi, everybody!” Tracey called out, tugging at Andrea’s hand to hurry her along toward the table. She was dressed in a pale blue silk dress with white lace around the sleeves and the hemline. “Look at me. I’m all dressed up for dinner.”

“And you look just lovely,” Delores said, patting the chair next to her.

“I know. Daddy told me I’m almost as pretty as Mommy. He’s coming in a minute with Uncle Mike.” Tracey climbed up in the chair next to Delores and grinned at everyone. “Hi, Uncle Norman.”

Andrea passed by the back of Hannah’s chair on her way around the table, and Hannah pulled her down for a private word. “Tracey’s calling everyone uncle again.”

“I know. I taught her not to discriminate,” Andrea whispered back and then she straightened up to address the whole table. “How many people are coming?”

“Twelve,” Delores answered. “All of us, plus Lisa and Herb. And Lonnie is coming with Michelle.”

“We’re here.” Bill came up to the table with Mike. Both of them were wearing their uniforms and they looked very handsome.

“Sit right here, Bill.” Delores gestured to a chair next to Andrea. “Mike? Take that place by Hannah.”

Hannah maintained her pleasant expression, but she resolved to have a talk with her mother about the seating arrangements for these family gatherings. Her mother always sandwiched her in between Norman and Mike, and she was beginning to feel like peanut butter.

“Did you see Freddy this morning?” Andrea asked her.

“Yes, I did. I drove out to the hospital right after I delivered my cookies for the church bake sale.” Hannah gave a small smile. Thanks to the layer of plastic wrap on top of her bowl, her dough had been intact and she’d baked her cookies early this morning. If she didn’t tell, no one would ever guess what that batch of Molasses Crackles had been through. “Doc Knight says Freddy’s going to make a full recovery. I was there when they took him off the respirator and the first thing he told us was that Jed had attacked him.”

“Did he understand why?” Norman asked.

“He did after we explained it. Freddy said he hoped they’d lock Jed up for good so he couldn’t hurt anyone else.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem,” Mike said. “We got a full confession. And since we found the stolen money in Jed’s truck, the only question now is who gets to prosecute him first, the Feds or us.”

“Hi!” Lisa was grinning ear-to-ear as she approached the table with Herb. “I’m sorry we’re late. We stopped at the hospital to see Freddy and he wanted to tell us all about his new job.”

Herb pulled out a chair for Lisa, then took his place at the table. “Doc Knight found a job for Freddy at the hospital doing maintenance work and taking care of the grounds.”

“There’s Aunt Michelle!” Tracey said, standing up to wave. “And Uncle Lonnie’s with her.”

Hannah laughed at the shocked expression on Andrea’s face. It was clear her sister was now regretting teaching Tracey indiscriminate use of the term “uncle.” It wasn’t that Andrea disliked Lonnie, but she’d made it clear that she didn’t approve of Michelle dating anyone in law enforcement. She’d explained that it was all right for Hannah since she was older and more independent, but she felt that Michelle should have a boyfriend with a less demanding job.

“Isn’t it a beautiful evening?” Lisa asked, looking straight at Hannah and closing one eye in a wink. “I think this is the best night of my life. And there’s even a full moon!”

Hannah stared hard at Lisa. Something was definitely wrong with her partner. Lisa’s eyes were sparkling, her face was flushed, and she looked as if she’d been awarded the Nobel Prize, the Miss Universe crown, and an Olympic gold medal all at once. If Hannah hadn’t known better, she might have suspected that Lisa was giddy on champagne, but the cork was still in the bottle.

“Are you okay, Lisa?” Hannah asked.

“I’ve never been more okay in my life!” Lisa gave a little giggle and reached for her water glass.

Hannah blinked. Lisa was holding her water glass awkwardly, with her finger held straight out as if it hurt. She was about to ask how she’d injured her hand and whether Doc Knight had given her pain pills when Andrea let out a gasp.

“Oh, my!” Andrea squealed and rushed over to hug Lisa. “Why didn’t you say something sooner? This is just wonderful!”

Hannah regarded her sister with total amazement. Had everyone gone crazy? “What’s wonderful?”

“This!” Andrea reached for Lisa’s hand and held it aloft. “Lisa and Herb are engaged!”

Hannah laughed long and hard, even though she felt like total fool for not noticing the ring earlier. The champagne was opened, along with a bottle of sparkling apple juice for Tracey to share with Norman, who said that since he was driving, he’d pass on the champagne.

Congratulations flowed for several joyful minutes. Then Delores asked the question that was in everyone’s mind. “When is the wedding?”

“On December thirty-first,” Herb answered her, with a grin. “Lisa wanted to wait until the busy season was over at The Cookie Jar, but she still wanted me to get the tax break.”

Hannah applauded. “Smart girl.”

“Can I be in your wedding, Lisa?” Tracey asked. “I always wanted to be a flower girl.”

Lisa reached over to give her a hug. “I was just going to ask you if you’d be my flower girl. You’re my first choice. I’d like to make this is a real family wedding.”

“What a wonderful idea!” Delores clapped her hands. “Wouldn’t it be delightful to make it a double wedding and have a real family affair?”

Hannah fumed as her mother turned to smile first at Norman and then at Mike. Delores was getting positively blatant. Silence fell as both men shifted uncomfortably and Hannah knew she had to do something.

“A double wedding would be wonderful,” Hannah said, seizing the first idea that popped into her head and running with it, “but I really think that Michelle should finish college before she gets married.”

Michelle looked startled for a split second, but then she caught on. “You won’t get any argument from me. I want to get my degree before I settle down. That’s all right with you, isn’t it, Mother?”

“Of course it’s all right! But, I didn’t mean…”

Delores faltered and Hannah almost felt sorry for her…almost, but not quite. “I’ll come up with a special wedding cookie for you, Lisa. Something spectacular.”

“And I’ll help you with the wedding,” Andrea offered. “I just cleaned out my closet and I found all the plans I used for my wedding. And that reminds me…I’ve got a package in the car for you, Hannah. Remember those summer slacks we bought last year?”

“Oh, yes.” Hannah sighed. How could she forget? Those miserable slacks had prompted her diet.

“Well, we must have mixed them up when we took them out of my car. I don’t know how, but I ended up with yours.”

Hannah’s mouth dropped open. “You mean the slacks I have belong to you?”

“That’s right.”

Hannah’s head was still reeling when the waitress arrived to take their order. She wasn’t overweight. She’d been dieting to try to fit into Andrea’s slacks!

“Could I take your order?” the waitress asked, pausing by Hannah’s chair.

“Just one second,” Hannah said, and she turned to Andrea again. “Are you absolutely positive the slacks I have are yours?”

“Of course I am. The pair I wound up with is much too big for me.”

Hannah was grinning as she turned back to the waitress. “I’m skipping my salad and entrée tonight. Just bring me the dessert cart and park it right here.”

Pineapple Right-Side-Up Cookie Bars

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F.,
with rack in middle position.

(Another recipe with a no-roll crust—don’t you just love it? )

2 cups flour (no need to sift)

1 cup softened butter (2 sticks, ½ pound)

½ cup white sugar

4 beaten eggs (just whip them up with a fork)

½ cup white sugar

½ cup frozen concentrated pineapple juice

½ cup drained crushed pineapple (if you have any left over, freeze it)

½ teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon baking powder

4 tablespoons flour (that’s ¼ cup—don’t bother to sift )

FIRST STEP: Dump pineapple in a strainer and let it drain while you do this step. Cream butter with sugar and add flour. Mix well. (You can also do this in a food processor with hard butter cut into chunks and the steel blade. ) Spread mixture out in a greased 9 x 13 inch pan (that’s a standard sheet cake pan) , and press it down evenly with your hands.

Bake at 350 degrees F. for 15 to 20 minutes. Remove from oven. (Don’t turn off oven!)

SECOND STEP: Mix eggs with sugar. Add pineapple concentrate, drained pineapple, and mix. Add salt and baking powder and stir it all up. Then add flour and mix thoroughly. (This will be runny—it’ll set in the oven.)

Pour this mixture on top of the pan you just baked and stick it back into the oven. Bake at 350 degrees F. for another 45–50 minutes. Then remove from oven.

Let cool thoroughly, then sprinkle a little powdered sugar on the top and cut into brownie-sized bars.

(Herb Beeseman loves these—it was the least I could do for him. Mother and Carrie love them too, but they like a double serving with a scoop of vanilla ice cream on top. Marge Beeseman has refused to taste them, probably because she thinks she makes the best Pineapple Upside-Down Cake in the state of Minnesota and she doesn’t relish any interference.)

Baking Conversion Chart

These conversions are approximate, but they’ll work just fine for Hannah Swensen’s recipes.

Note: Hannah’s rectangular sheet cake pan, 9 inches by 13 inches, is approximately 23 centimeters by 32.5 centimeters.

Please turn the page for an exciting sneak peek

of the next mouth-watering Hannah Swensen mystery

FUDGE CUPCAKE MURDER

coming in March 2004

wherever hardcover mysteries are sold!

H annah had just finished frosting the cupcakes when she heard someone approach in the hallway outside her classroom door. Perhaps it was Mike and he was early.

“Is my nose wrong, or do I smell chocolate?”

Hannah sighed as she recognized the voice. Then she put a friendly smile on her face and turned toward the doorway. Sheriff Grant had never been one of her favorite people, but he was a good customer at The Cookie Jar and it was wise to be friendly to the man who was Bill and Mike’s boss. “Your nose is right. I’m trying out a recipe for the Lake Eden cookbook.”

“It sure smells good.” Sheriff Grant moved closer to the counter and Hannah noticed that he was listing toward the cupcakes at approximately a forty-five degree angle.

“Would you like to taste one?” Hannah offered. “I think they’re cool enough.”

“That’d be great! I haven’t had anything to eat since lunch and I need to stick around until Kingston gets here. Got some paperwork for him to pass out.”

Hannah packaged up four of the cupcakes. She knew Mike was teaching a self-defense class in the room next door. “Do you want to leave the paperwork with me? I can make sure he gets it.”

“No, that’s okay. I’ll just wait in the parking lot and catch him when he drives in.” Sheriff Grant accepted the package Hannah gave him with a smile. “Thanks, Hannah. This is really nice of you.”

“Maybe not,” Hannah replied with a grin.

“What do you mean?”

“These cupcakes are an experiment and I haven’t even tasted them yet.”

“Do you want a report on how I like them?”

“That would be great,” Hannah said with a smile. “You’re a brave man, Sheriff Grant.”

“Why’s that?”

“For all you know, they might be poisoned. After all, my brother-in-law is running against you in the election.”

When Hannah’s students arrived, she divided them into five groups, one group for each workstation in Jordan High’s home economics room. Then she set them to work testing pastry recipes. One group had the cookie recipe she’d developed, another was baking a pie, the third group was in the process of making a cobbler, the fourth group had a tea bread recipe, and group five was baking a coffee cake.

“What is it, Hannah?” Beatrice came rushing over when Hannah motioned to her.

“I baked a batch of cupcakes before class. I need you to taste one and tell me what you think.”

Beatrice took a cupcake from the plate Hannah offered. She chewed thoughtfully for a moment and then she shook her head. “I’m sorry, Hannah. These aren’t like the ones I remember.”

“I know. I made them plain, without the secret ingredient. I thought you might be able to tell what’s missing.”

Beatrice took another bite and chewed slowly. Then she shook her head again. “I just can’t tell. I know it’s something. These are really good, but the ones Mother Koester made had a wonderful aftertaste and they weren’t quite as dry. You got the frosting just right though. It’s exactly the same as she used to make.”

“Thanks, Beatrice. You’ve been a big help.”

“I have? All I did was tell you that you don’t have it right.”

“I know, but you also gave me a clue. If these are drier cupcakes, the secret ingredient must be something that makes them moist. Now all I have to do is figure out what it is.”

“I’m glad I helped. What makes cupcakes moist besides water, or milk?”

“Several different things. Pudding in the batter could do it. So could more eggs, more butter, more oil, or adding some kind of moist ingredient. Even baking them in a slower oven or for less time might do it.”

Beatrice looked amused. “That doesn’t narrow it down much.”

“No, it doesn’t. But we have more information than we did this afternoon and I’m going to jot down some things to try. If you think of anything else to tell me about the cupcakes, just give me a holler.”

Hannah’s class crowded seven students at each of the five workstations, in a classroom designed for less than thirty students. The only thing that saved the situation from becoming total chaos was the fact that these were women who were used to cooking together in community or family kitchens. Hannah gave each group seven tasks to be performed during the baking and the tasks were assigned by drawing names. First there was a leader, the person responsible for the group. Then there were two fetchers. They foraged in the pantry to gather the ingredients. One group member was the designated measurer. She measured the various ingredients and assembled them in appropriate bowls and cups. Another group member was in charge of mixing the ingredients, and the last two group members were in charge of preheating the oven and preparing the baking pans. Once the batter or the dough had been mixed, the leader was the one who put it into the baking pans and placed it in the oven.

“Hannah?” Edna Ferguson, the head cook at Jordan High and leader of one of Hannah’s groups, waved frantically at her across the room.

“What is it, Edna?”

“It’s this tea bread dough. It’s not right. Come over here and stir it and you’ll see what I mean.”

Hannah hurried to the workstation and gave the bowl a stir. The dough was as thin as crepe batter.

“See what I mean?”

“I see. Are you sure you followed the recipe exactly?”

“I’m positive,” Edna said, nodding so vigorously her tight gray curls bounced.

“I’m positive, too,” Linda Gradin spoke up. “I did the measuring and I watched while Donna mixed it all up.”

Donna Lempke nodded. “We even talked about the flour. It just didn’t seem like it would be enough and we had Edna double check the recipe. That’s what it says, Hannah. A cup and a half.”

“Let’s see.” Hannah took the recipe that Edna handed to her and frowned as she read it. There was definitely a discrepancy between the amount of liquid and dry ingredients.

“Should I add more flour?” Edna asked. “It’ll never turn out right this way. I think another cup’ll be just right.”

“No, you’d just be guessing at the amount. This is Helen Barthel’s recipe. Let’s call her and check.”

“I’ll do it,” Charlotte Roscoe volunteered.

“Thanks, Charlotte,” Hannah said, smiling at the school secretary. “We’ll just wait while you run up to your office.”

Charlotte drew a cell phone from her pocket. “This is faster. Does anybody know Helen’s number off the top of their head?”

One student was reciting the number when Hannah heard Gail Hansen call out from the group at the next workstation. “Could you come here for a minute, Hannah? We don’t know if these cookies are big enough.”

Hannah walked over to look. Gail’s group was testing the Boggles she’d developed. “They look just perfect, Gail.”

“Good!” Gail slipped the cookies into the oven and motioned for Irma York to start the timer. “I’m a little worried about one thing in the recipe, though.”

“What’s that?”

“You say to form the dough into walnut-sized balls. That just won’t fadge in some parts of the state.”

“Won’t what?”

“Won’t fadge.” Gail gave an embarrassed laugh. “Sorry, Hannah. I went to a Regency club meeting this afternoon and I’m still talking that way. I just mean it won’t work, that it might confuse a lot of people. I’ll bet there are plenty of folks in the big cities who’ll think you mean a shelled walnut.”

“Really? I never thought of that, but you could be right. I’d better reword it.”

“I just talked to Helen,” Charlotte called out. “She checked her recipe book and it’s two and a half cups, not one and a half cups. Edna was right when she wanted to add another cup.”

Hannah gave Edna a thumbs-up for guessing the amount of flour correctly. Of course that wasn’t all that surprising. Edna had been baking almost every day for the past forty-plus years. Hannah had just turned to group three to see how their pie was coming when she heard a bloodcurdling scream.

“What was that?” Hannah gasped, her eyes darting around the room to make sure that none of her students was hurt.

“I don’t know!” Edna sounded thoroughly shocked. “Should we call the police? I’m almost sure it came from the classroom next door.”

Hannah laughed, her fears put to rest. “If it came from next door, it is the police. Mike Kingston’s in there with his self-defense class. He’s probably teaching his students to scream if someone tries to mug them.”

The words had just left Hannah’s mouth when more screaming ensued from the classroom next door. This was followed by blasts on whistles and instructions to back off. It was definitely Mike’s class making all that noise. Hannah and her students shared another laugh and then they went back to their baking.

It wasn’t easy to concentrate on testing recipes when the class next door was so noisy, but Hannah’s students managed to do it. By the time nine o’clock rolled around and the class officially ended, they had divided up the baked goods so that everyone could have some to take home, cleaned the workstations, and decided which recipes they wanted to test in their own kitchens as homework. Five minutes later, Hannah’s classroom was deserted and she was just doing a final check of the pantry when Mike knocked on the open door.

“Hi, Hannah. Are you ready for that steak?”

“I’ve been dreaming about it all day.” Hannah turned to look at him and her breath caught in her throat. Steak wasn’t the only thing she’d been dreaming of. Tall, rugged, and handsome, it was no wonder that every single woman in town, and some that weren’t so single, were staying awake nights trying to think of ways to attract Mike’s attention. If the Winnetka County Sheriff’s Department wanted to put out one of the beefcake calendars that so many other groups were doing to raise money, all they’d have to do was put Mike on the cover and they’d have a bestseller. “Did Sheriff Grant catch you on your way in? He stopped by here and he said he had some handouts for you.”

“He was waiting for me when I pulled into the parking lot. I told him I wouldn’t pass out the flyers.”

“Why not?”

“They were Grant for Sheriff flyers.”

“They were?” Hannah started to chuckle. “No wonder he didn’t want to leave them with me! And isn’t there some kind of rule about passing out political flyers in school?”

“There’s a rule. When I mentioned it to him, he decided he’d just hand them to people when they drove in.”

“I take it you’re not voting for Sheriff Grant?” Hannah teased.

“Of course not. I’m voting for Bill. He’s my partner and my best friend. You should know that, Hannah.”

“I do,” Hannah said with a sigh. There were times when Mike was far too serious to be teased and it seemed that this was one of them. “I wonder if Sheriff Grant’s still around. I gave him some cupcakes to test for me and he promised to let me know how he liked them.”

“If he’s gone, I’ll ask him for you tomorrow.” Mike picked up Hannah’s jacket and held it for her. “Let’s go. I skipped lunch and I’m hungry.”

Hannah slipped into her jacket and was about to pick up her shoulder bag purse when she remembered the garbage. “Just let me run out with the trash. I want to make sure that back door’s locked anyway.”

“Need some help?”

“I can handle it. There’s just the one bag. You can double check the ovens and stovetops to make sure they’re all turned off.”

Hannah grabbed the garbage bag and headed out the delivery door, blinking in the light of the high-wattage security light that came on as she passed by the sensor. She headed for the Dumpster, opened the lid, and lifted the bag. But before she dropped it inside, Hannah happened to glance down into the depths of the Dumpster.

For one shocked moment, Hannah froze, the bag of garbage suspended over the Dumpster and her mouth forming a perfectly round “o” of surprise. Then she pulled the bag back, set it down on the asphalt, and told herself that she must be imagining things, that there really hadn’t been something in the bottom of the Dumpster that had resembled a human arm.

Looks are deceiving, Hannah repeated one of her grandmother Elsa’s favorite sayings several times in her mind, and then she stepped back for a second look. It was an arm all right. And the arm was attached to a body.

“Uh-oh,” Hannah groaned, swallowing hard, and at that exact moment, the security light cycled off. The sudden absence of the megawatt glare made the darkness seem even more intense and Hannah had all she could do not to scream. She reminded herself that she had two choices. She could stand here wondering if she’d really seen what she thought she’d seen, or she could run back inside and get Mike.

The delivery door opened with a creak and Hannah almost jumped out of her skin. Then she heard a voice. “Hannah? Is there a problem?”

It was Mike’s voice. Hannah swallowed hard. It seemed she had a third choice. She could say that there was a problem and ask Mike to get over here on the double. That would be the wisest choice, if only she could find her voice.

“Hannah?”

“Over here,” Hannah gulped out the words.

“What is it? You sound funny.”

Hannah took a deep breath. And then she said, as clearly as she could. “There’s a body in this Dumpster.”

Mike wasted no time in joining Hannah. He pulled out his flashlight, trained the beam inside, and groaned. “It’s Sheriff Grant.”

“Dead?” Hannah asked, watching Mike as he leaned forward into the Dumpster to feel for a pulse.

“Yes.”

Hannah gulped, trying to accept the fact that someone she’d spoken to less than three hours ago was inside a school Dumpster, dead.

“Looks like someone hit him on the back of the head. There may be another wound, too. There’s a big smear of dried blood on the front of his uniform.”

Despite her revulsion, Hannah looked at the area Mike indicated with his flashlight. He was right. There was a smear of something dark on Sheriff Grant’s uniform shirt. She cleared her throat and forced herself to speak. “That’s not blood.”

“It’s not?”

Hannah shook her head. “It’s fudge frosting. Sheriff Grant died eating one of my cupcakes!”

Can’t get enough of Joanne Fluke and Hannah Swensen?

Need a second helping?

Then turn the page for a special note from Hannah’s niece,

Tracey, who’ll tell you about SUGAR COOKIE MURDER

coming in October 2004 from Kensington Publishing!

Dear Santa,

How are you? I am fine. I sure hope you remember me what with all the kids who write to you this time of year. My name is Tracey Todd and I live in Lake Eden, Minnesota. My daddy’s the new Sheriff of Winnetka County and my mommy’s a real estate professional. I asked you for a dollhouse last year and you gave it to me. It’s real nice.

I’m writing this to help my Aunt Hannah. You probably remember her. Those were her cookies that we left out under the tree for you. We’re all stuck here at the community center after the big recipe testing Christmas party dinner. The food was great and it was fun, but we can’t go home. It’s supposed to be because of the big blizzard, but that’s not the real reason. Right after Edna Ferguson finished cutting the cakes. I saw Aunt Hannah come in from the parking lot and she had that look on her face. Then she pulled Uncle Mike (he’s daddy’s most important detective) off in a corner so they could talk. They looked real worried and that’s why I think Aunt Hannah found another body. She does that a lot. Anyways, she wants all of us kids to stay busy writing letters to Santa. I bet she figures that way nobody will guess what’s really wrong.

I better start writing my Christmas wish list now so you’ll know what to bring me.

The first think I want is for Mommy to have the new baby. She’s awful big so could you please let her have it right away? I can tell Daddy’s worried about her and they’ll both be happy after the baby’s born. Mommy says he’s a boy and his name is Billy. That’s nice, but if you can still do it, could you please make Billy a girl? I’d much rather have a little sister.

The next thing I want is for Rose from Hal and Rose’s Café to give my Aunt Hannah her famous coconut cake recipe for the cookbook. Poor Aunt Hannah’s asked for it a bunch of times, but Rose won’t give it her. Could you get it, please? Tonight was supposed to be the last chance to test recipes for the cookbook, but Aunt Hannah’s editor is very nice and I bet he’ll let her put it in.

This next thing is a big favor I need. I know this is your busy season, but if you have time, please talk to Uncle Mike. Tell him that Aunt Hannah would make a perfect wife and he should ask her. And then please talk to Uncle Norman. I want him to ask Aunt Hannah, too. That way she can make up her mind which one she likes best and I’ll get to be in another wedding. I’m already going to be in Lisa and Herb’s wedding on New Year’s Eve. I get to wear a beautiful red velvet dress and carry white roses with the thorns cut off.

There’s another thing I want, Santa. Mommy and Aunt Hannah are all worried about Grandma and Winthrop. They think he’s a crook. If he is, please make him leave Grandma alone. If he’s not, I guess it’s okay even though I don’t like him very much.

I don’t really want anything else for Christmas except maybe a puppy. I think I’m going to get that anyway, but not right away.

Love,
Tracey

P.S. If it’s not a secret, will you tell me how you got my dollhouse inside our living room last Christmas? I know it’s too big to fit down the chimney. I measured.

KENSINGTON BOOKS are published by

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Copyright © 2010 by H.L. Swensen, Inc.
Apple Turnover Murder

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Copyright © 2006 by Joanne Fluke
Cherry Cheesecake Murder

Copyright © 2007 by Joanne Fluke
Key Lime Pie Murder

Copyright © 2003 by Joanne Fluke
Lemon Meringue Pie Murder

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