by Joanne Fluke
“We came for the Chicken Mole,” Hannah answered, before Andrea could say anything.
“Then go fill your plates and come back here. You can tell me all the local gossip.”
“And you can tell us all the gossip about your guests.” Andrea seized the opportunity and jumped into the conversation. “I love hearing about people from out of town.”
Hannah waited until they’d walked over to the buffet table and then she turned to Andrea. “That was good, Andrea.”
“What was good?” Andrea picked up a plate and dished out a helping of spinach salad.
“That bit about how you love to hear about people from out of town.”
“Oh, that.” Andrea dismissed it with a wave of the salad tongs. “I just thought Sally would be more likely to talk to us if we said we were interested. I just wish you hadn’t said we came for the Chicken Mole.”
“Why not?”
“Because now I’ll have to take some, and since we’ll be sitting at the bar with Sally, I’ll have to eat it.”
“Relax, you’ll like it.” Hannah patted her on the shoulder. “And think of how much fun you’ll have telling Tracey about it.”
“That’s what you always used to say when you made supper and it didn’t turn out right. This is really exotic, Andrea. Try some so you can tell all your friends about it.”
Hannah winced. Andrea was wise to her, and whatever she said would only make matters worse. She watched her sister take a small helping of the mole and a large helping of macaroni and cheese in silence. She wasn’t about to make the mistake of telling Andrea that Sally’s macaroni and cheese didn’t come out of a blue box.
Once their plates were filled, Hannah led the way back to the bar and they climbed up on stools next to Sally. Hannah was amused when Andrea tried her Chicken Mole first. When she’d been a kid, she’d done the same thing with her vegetables.
Andrea chewed thoughtfully and then she smiled at Sally. “This is wonderful, Sally. I wasn’t sure I’d like chicken and chocolate, but I do.”
“Thanks. The guests all raved about it, too. Buffet food is pretty standard, but I try to do one unusual dish every day to keep them interested.”
“Are they a pretty good crowd?” Hannah asked, forging the way for a discussion about the guests.
“Super. Of course, some of the contestants are a little nervous. It’s a pretty big deal, you know.”
“How about the three ladies who were eliminated last night?” Hannah asked. “I know I probably shouldn’t say it under the circumstances, but I bet they weren’t exactly happy with what Boyd Watson said on television.”
“That’s an understatement!” Sally laughed. “They were hopping mad when they got back here, but the lady who won was so nice about it, they calmed down and had a good time at the party.”
“Then all three ladies were at the party?” Andrea asked, catching Hannah’s line of questioning perfectly.
“They were here and so were their families, so you can forget about them.”
“Forget about them?” Hannah tried for a perfectly innocent look.
“Come on, Hannah.” Sally reached out to squeeze her arm. “I know why you’re asking, and I wondered how long it would take you. I figured you’d make small talk for at least five minutes, but I was wrong.”
Hannah was impressed. Sally was quick. “I’m no good at small talk. I’m better off just jumping right in with both feet.”
“How is Boyd’s wife? It must have been an awful shock.”
“It was.” Hannah decided to confide in Sally. “And to make matters worse, she’s the prime suspect.”
Sally slid her feet off the barstool and sat up a little straighter. “She didn’t do it, did she?”
“No, and Andrea and I are hoping to prove that she didn’t. If I tell you something, will you promise not to repeat it?”
“You can count on me. I only met Danielle once, but I liked her. And she certainly didn’t seem like the type to murder her husband. I’ve got to say that I didn’t like him, though. They drove out here for dinner last summer, and all he could do was complain. After they left, Dick said he felt sorry for her. We only had to put up with him for a couple of hours, but she was stuck with him for a lifetime.”
“A short lifetime,” Hannah pointed out. “Danielle had good reason to kill Boyd and that’s part of the problem. But we do have a possible lead.”
“What is it?”
“Danielle told me that Boyd got a phone call from a woman on Tuesday around noon. It was a local call, and Danielle didn’t recognize the woman’s voice, but she said that Boyd was really angry after he’d talked to her. We thought it might have been one of your guests.”
Sally thought about it for a minute, then she nodded. “That’s certainly possible. Almost everyone checked in before noon, and there was nothing scheduled until the banquet at seven.”
“This woman had some sort of speech impediment,” Andrea told her. “Danielle said she slurred her words, but she didn’t seem drunk.”
Sally shook her head. “I haven’t noticed anyone with a problem like that, but I’m not sure I’ve met all the guests. Why don’t you do a little table-hopping after you finish your lunch? This crowd always sticks around for the dessert buffet.”
“That’s not surprising,” Hannah remarked, “since most of them are entered in the bake-off. Maybe they’re hoping to pick up a few pointers from you.”
Sally seemed pleased as she slid from her stool. “I’ve got to run. Dick’s in the kitchen filling the eclairs, and I have to put on the chocolate frosting. What are you baking on television tonight, Hannah?”
“Apricot Bread Pudding.”
“Oh, good. Another recipe for my files. I had the station fax me your Pound Plus Cake recipe, and I baked four batches last night. Do you think I can serve it with canned peaches, since strawberries are so expensive?”
“Absolutely. You can use any canned or frozen fruit.”
Sally gave her a little salute. “Thanks, Hannah. I’ll be the first one to call the station after I watch you tonight.”
When Hannah and Andrea were finished with their lunch, they headed off toward the tables. The room was huge, and they split up, each taking half. Hannah headed straight toward Mr. Rutlege. She wanted to see how he was feeling after his ordeal in Norman’s dental chair.
“Hi, Mr. Rutlege.” Hannah reached out to shake his hand. “I’m so sorry you had to bow out of the judging.”
“I’m not.” The pretty brown-haired woman sitting next to him smiled at Hannah. “I’m Belle Rutlege.”
“Hannah Swensen.”
“I know. I saw you on television last night. Jeremy and I were the only ones here. Everyone else went to the school.”
“Are you sorry that your husband couldn’t be a judge?”
“I’m sorry that his tooth acted up and he had such a rough time. But I’m glad he didn’t have to speak on television last night!”
“Why?”
“All of our friends back home would have thought he’d fallen off the wagon. He was slurring his words, and he’s the head of our local AA chapter!”
Hannah’s senses went on full alert at this news. She turned to Jeremy Rutlege, and asked, “You sounded drunk?”
“As a hoot owl. I tried to explain to Belle that it was the packing. Norman said to leave it in for twelve hours. But every time I tried to talk, she laughed so hard she couldn’t hear me.”
Hannah spent another few minutes chatting with them, then she went over to get Andrea. She waited for Andrea to finish her conversation with the group she’d joined and pulled her out into the hall. “Mission accomplished.”
“You found the woman who made the phone call?” Andrea was clearly excited.
“No, but I know where to look. Come on, Andrea. I’ll explain it all on the way back to town. We have to go to see Norman Rhodes before his afternoon patients come in.”
Hannah pressed the buzzer at the reception window and
when Norman slid back the frosted glass panel, she was shocked. There were dark circles under his eyes, and he seemed nervous and ill at ease.
“What’s wrong, Norman?” Hannah blurted out.
“Nothing. I guess I’ve just been working too late lately.”
“Well, don’t work so hard.” Hannah said the first thing that came into her mind. Something was wrong, and it had nothing to do with Norman’s dental practice, but this wasn’t the time to ask about it. She’d wait until she had a moment alone with him.
“That’s great advice, Hannah.” Norman smiled, but it was a pale imitation of his normal grin. “Hello, Andrea. Do you have an emergency?”
“Yes, but it has nothing to do with our teeth,” Hannah told him. “I need to look at your appointment book, Norman. It’s really important.”
“Why?”
“I can’t tell you. It’s confidential.”
“And I can’t let you look for the same reason.”
“Come on, Norman.” Hannah did her best wheedle, but she could tell that Norman wasn’t buying it. “Okay, I’ll tell you why I need it. It has to do with Boyd Watson’s murder.”
“You’re investigating again?” Norman’s eyebrows rose.
“Yes, but Bill doesn’t know, and he’ll kill me if he finds out,” Andrea answered. “We can trust you to keep our secret, can’t we?”
“Of course.”
“Then we can look at your appointment book?” Hannah pressed her advantage.
Norman considered it for a moment and then he shook his head. “I can’t let you do that, Hannah. It’d be different if you were actually working for the sheriff’s department. Then I’d have to cooperate. But you’re not. You do understand, don’t you?”
Hannah stared at Norman. He looked very intense and as she watched, one of his eyelids closed in a wink. “Of course I understand. You can’t give us permission. It would be a violation of your dental code of ethics.”
“Right. Hold on a second. I’ll let you in the back.” Norman slid the glass panel shut. A moment later, he opened the door to the inner part of his clinic and motioned them in. “I’d better close this. It’s my appointment book.” Norman closed a red-covered spiral book on the counter. “Will you excuse me for a minute? I have some X-rays to check.”
After Norman had gone off down the hallway, Andrea turned to Hannah. “What was all that about?”
“Norman treats his patient list like a state secret. He takes this whole confidentiality issue very seriously. He can’t give us permission to look at his appointment book, but he’s giving us the chance to sneak a peek while he’s gone.”
Andrea followed Hannah around the desk so that they could look at the appointment book. “That seems a little silly to me, but I’m not a dentist. I’m a real-estate agent.”
“And real-estate agents don’t have ethics?” Hannah couldn’t resist teasing her a bit.
“Of course they do. They’re just different, that’s all. You want to check Tuesday, right?”
“Monday and Tuesday. Mr. Rutlege said he had to leave his packing in for twelve hours, and Norman handles after-hours emergencies. The woman who called Boyd could have been a late patient on Monday night.”
Andrea flipped the appointment book open to Monday’s date. “There’s nothing after six, and his last two appointments were men.”
“Okay. Try Tuesday morning.”
Both sisters stared down at the page after Andrea had flipped it. Norman had been busy on Tuesday morning.
“Write down the names, Andrea. I’ll read them off to you.” Hannah waited until Andrea had grabbed a pad of notepaper and a pen. “Luanne Hanks at eight. Mr. Hodges had a nine o’clock appointment, but you don’t have to write him down. Then Amalia Greerson came in at nine-thirty, and Norman saw Eleanor Cox at eleven.”
“Luanne Hanks, Amalia Greerson, and Eleanor Cox. Is that it?”
“That’s it.” Hannah closed the book and stepped out from behind the desk.
“It can’t be Amalia.” Andrea followed her, staring down at the notes she made. “She called the office right before noon on Tuesday and asked for Al. I answered, and she wasn’t slurring her words.”
“Okay. Scratch her off. And scratch off Eleanor, too.”
“Why?”
“Because Danielle knows her voice. They used to be neighbors before Otis and Eleanor moved out to the lake.”
Andrea sighed. “That leaves Luanne. Do you think we should talk to her?”
“Of course. She works at the café until six. Let’s drop by on our way back to the shop.”
“I’m all through with the X-rays,” Norman called out, ducking out of a treatment room and walking down the hallway toward them.
Hannah took one look at his worried face and wondered if what Delores had told her about Lucy Richards had anything to do with it. She’d promised her mother to make time for Norman, and she did want to talk to him alone. “Are you going to the bake-off tonight, Norman?”
“I wouldn’t miss it. I should have said something before, Hannah, but I guess I’m just not very social.”
“Huh?” Hannah was puzzled.
“The bake-off. I meant to tell you that you looked really good on television. And I thought you did a nice job making the contestants feel better after Boyd got through with them. He was pretty nasty, but I guess I probably shouldn’t say that, now that he’s dead.”
“I don’t know why you shouldn’t say it. It’s the truth.” Hannah wondered what Norman’s reaction would be if he knew exactly how nasty Boyd had really been.
“I know, but Mother’s always saying that you’re not supposed to speak ill of the dead.”
“That’s just an old superstition. In some parts of Medieval Europe, people believed that if you maligned someone who’d died, they’d come back to haunt you. You don’t believe in ghosts, do you, Norman?”
Norman grinned and shook his head. “I’ve never been a big fan of the occult.”
“It’s the live people who can hurt you, not the dead ones.” Andrea’s voice was hard. “Nobody has to worry about Boyd Watson now.”
Hannah nodded, knowing that Andrea was thinking about the abuse that Danielle had suffered. She shot her sister a warning glance; it wasn’t their secret to tell, and hastily changed the subject. “If you’re not busy, why don’t you drop by my condo after the contest, Norman? We haven’t had a chance to talk for a long time.”
“That’s true.” Norman looked pleased as he nodded. “I’ll be there, Hannah.”
The buzzer at the window sounded and Norman slid back the glass panel. “Hi, Doc. I’ll be with you in just a second.” Then he turned to Andrea and Hannah. “I have to get back to work. My one-thirty’s here.”
“Doc Knight?” Hannah asked, hoping that it was. She might be able to ask him a few questions before Norman got out his drill.
“No, Doc Bennett. We worked out a deal. I do his dental work and he does mine.”
Hannah was thoughtful as they walked out of the clinic. She’d never considered it before, but a dentist needed his own dentist, just like a doctor needed his own doctor. As they crossed the street and headed toward Hal and Rose’s Café, Hannah wondered if a cookie baker needed another source of cookies, but she quickly rejected that idea. She liked her own cookies. She’d spent hours perfecting the recipes. Perhaps she was being a bit conceited, but she didn’t see any reason to eat an inferior cookie when hers were the best in the state.
Chapter Eight
Hal and Rose’s Café was across the street from the Rhodes Dental Clinic, at the northwest corner of Main Street and Second Avenue. The old yellow-brick building had been erected in the forties, and Harold and Rose McDermott were the second owners. There was a six-room apartment over the café, and the McDermotts lived there. You could count on Rose to start bragging every winter when the weather turned cold because she could use the inside staircase and she never had to bundle up in her parka and boots to go to work.
Hannah pushed open the door and they stepped into the café. The air was fragrant with the scent of pot roast, and Hannah was almost sorry she’d eaten. Flavored with a bouquet of bay leaf and rosemary, and surrounded with whole onions, potatoes, and carrots, it was one of Hannah’s favorite dishes.
Rose was a good cook and served simple food. In addition to hamburgers, fried to perfection on the grill, her staples were pot roast, turkey dinner with all the trimmings, and ham with homemade scalloped potatoes. She also served open-faced sandwiches, your choice of beef, turkey, or ham. Each sandwich came with a scoop of mashed potatoes and gravy on top. The original owners had placed a sign over the cash register. It read “Good Cheap Food,” and Rose lived up to that promise. Hannah couldn’t think of any other restaurant in Winnetka County where a customer could order a hamburger, fries, and what Rose called her “bottomless cup of coffee,” with as many refills as you wanted, for two bucks.
The lunch crowd was long gone, and the wooden booths that lined the sidewall were deserted, but there was the usual crowd at the long wooden counter. Ed Barthel was sitting at one end, his stool swiveled so that he could peer out the plate-glass window and watch the ladies flocking into Trudi Schuman’s fabric shop for their quilting club meeting. It was pretty obvious he’d driven his wife, Helen, to town for the meeting, and he was passing the time with a cup of coffee, waiting to drive her back home.
Lake Eden’s mayor, Richard Bascomb, was holding court at the other end of the counter. Richard was a good politician, a handsome silver-haired man in his fifties with a real genius for small-town politics. Hannah had to admit that he was a good administrator. Lake Eden had run smoothly since he’d taken over the office. But there was something about the mayor that she didn’t like. She guessed it was his insincerity. Mayor Bascomb pretended to be everyone’s good buddy, even if he’d never met them before, and he was always on the lookout for a good political contact. He’d come over to her serving table when she’d provided cookies and coffee for his last fund-raiser, and while he had praised her for doing such a good job, he’d been looking over her shoulder to spot the other, more important people in the room.
