Strawberry Shortcake Murder

by Joanne Fluke

  Molasses Crackles

  Do not preheat oven yet.

  Dough must chill before baking.

  1 ½ cups melted butter (3 sticks—¾ pound)

  2 cups white sugar

  ½ cup molasses (use Brer Rabbit green label or a very dark molasses)

  2 beaten eggs (just whip them up with a fork)

  4 teaspoons baking soda

  1 teaspoon salt

  3 teaspoons cinnamon *

  1 teaspoon nutmeg (freshly ground is best)

  4 cups flour (there’s no need to sift it)

  Melt butter in a large microwave-safe bowl. Add sugar and molasses and stir. Let it cool slightly. Then add the beaten eggs, baking soda, salt, cinnamon, and nutmeg, stirring after each addition. Add flour in one-cup increments, stirring after each one. The dough will be quite stiff.

  Cover and refrigerate for at least 2 hours. (Overnight is fine too.)

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

  Roll the chilled dough into walnut-sized balls. Put some sugar in a small bowl and roll the balls in it. Place them on a greased cookie sheet (12 to a standard sheet). Press them down just a little so they won’t roll off when you carry them to the oven.

  Bake for 10–12 minutes. They’ll flatten out, all by themselves. Let them cool for 2 minutes on the cookie sheet and then move them to a wire rack to finish cooling.

  Molasses cookies freeze well. Roll them up in foil, put them in a freezer bag, and they’ll be fine for 3 months or so. (You’d better lock your freezer if you want them to last that long.)

  These were Dad’s favorite cookies. He used to ask me to bake them on Sunday morning, so he could eat them while he read the paper. Mother is also crazy about them, even though they don’t have chocolate.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Hannah walked around the side of the building shaking her head. Craig would do well on his midterm. She was almost sure of that. But he had given her zilch in return. The minute she’d mentioned steroids and The Gulls, the friendly team captain had turned anxious and edgy. He’d denied knowing anything about a suspension in the works or about any kind of drug use, performance-enhancing or otherwise, but Hannah had seen the barely concealed panic in the depths of his eyes. She was positive that Craig knew which player was using steroids. She was equally positive that no power on earth could make him tell her. Craig had wanted to confide in Hannah, but his peer loyalty had won out.

  There was a note taped to the production truck door, and Hannah climbed the steps for a closer look. Staff meeting—back soon, it read. Hannah knocked on the door, just in case someone had come back and forgotten to take down the note, but no one answered the door. She’d struck out twice, once with Craig and once with returning the pen.

  Hannah was about to leave when she had a thought. Perhaps she could leave the pen with Herb. He could give it to a member of the production staff, and they could return it to P.K. She reached inside her purse, pulled out the pen, and immediately discarded that idea when she read the inscription that was written on the side. The gold Cross pen belonged to Mason Kimball, and it had been presented to him when he’d won an award for the best short documentary in a student film contest. It was a keepsake, and Hannah didn’t want to take the chance that someone would misplace it.

  She thought of Craig Kimball and sighed. If she’d taken the time to read the inscription when she’d been with Craig in the library, she could have given the pen to him to return to his father. But perhaps that wouldn’t have been wise. If Mason knew that his night engineer had appropriated his pen, P.K. could wind up in trouble. The best thing to do was give it directly to P.K. so that he could return it to Mason’s office.

  Hannah glanced at the note again. Back soon could mean a few minutes, or an hour, and she didn’t have time to wait. She’d catch P.K. when she came back for the contest tonight, and that would have to be soon enough.

  Turning on her heel, Hannah walked down the metal steps and across the snowy parking lot, heading for her truck. She’d wasted most of the morning, and her mind was spinning. What she needed right now was to get back to The Cookie Jar for a second dose of chocolate.

  “So what did Craig say?” Andrea asked, leaning across the surface of the workstation. She’d dropped in at lunch to find out what had happened since she’d left Hannah at the production truck, and she’d already gotten the full story of the bear, the fact that Hannah had located some shots of Tracey, and her morning cram session with Craig Kimball.

  “Nothing.”

  “You mean he refused to answer your questions?”

  “No. He answered them, but he didn’t tell me anything. He said he didn’t know anyone on The Gulls who was using steroids or any other kind of drugs.”

  Andrea shrugged. “That’s about what I’d expect him to say. He wouldn’t be very popular if he ratted on his teammates. Do you think he knew and just didn’t want to tell you?”

  “Exactly. At least he seemed to realize how serious it was. He said he’d learned about steroids at basketball camp, and I have the feeling he’ll talk to his teammate and try to get some help for him. That’s good, but it doesn’t help us.”

  “How about Mike? Do you think he’s learned anything from the roster?”

  Now it was Hannah’s turn to shrug. “I don’t know. I haven’t talked to him since we split up after breakfast at the Corner Tavern.”

  “Breakfast?” Andrea gave Hannah a sharp look. “You spent all night with Mike?”

  Hannah knew exactly what her sister was asking, and she laughed. “Most of it, but it’s not what you’re thinking. We finished the tapes, we had steak and eggs, and then we went home…separately.”

  “Oh.” Andrea looked a little disappointed. “What are you going to do next?”

  “I’m going to run home, feed Moishe, and grab my clothes for tonight. If I’m lucky, I might even get in an hour’s nap.”

  “But how about the killer?”

  “He’ll wait. I’m fresh out of ideas, and I can’t think when I’m this tired. I’ve got to go recharge my batteries.”

  “Okay. I’ll run over to Lucy’s neighborhood and pass out some fliers. I got some good information the last time I did it.”

  “If anyone can do it, you can.” Hannah stood up and walked over to retrieve her parka. She was so tired, it took her a couple of attempts to get her left arm into the sleeve hole. “Call me at home if you learn anything important.”

  “I thought you were going to take a nap.”

  “I am.” Hannah yawned widely. “But I’m willing to wake up for that.”

  When Hannah woke up at three-fifteen, she felt ninety percent better. She padded into the kitchen, put on the coffee, and sat down at the table to wait for it to drip down into the carafe. Moishe went straight to his food bowl and seemed surprised to see that it was still full. He’d chosen to take a nap with her, rather than scarf down his kitty crunchies.

  “It’s not morning, Moishe,” Hannah told him. “It’s afternoon.”

  Moishe cocked his head to stare at her. He looked puzzled, and Hannah laughed. “Never mind. Time is a difficult concept. I’m not sure I understand it either.”

  The coffee was ready and Hannah got up to pour herself a cup. She inhaled the steam and felt the remaining ten percent better, bringing her up to a hundred percent. There was nothing like a cup of coffee when you woke up in the morning, even if the morning was actually afternoon.

  By the time she’d finished her third cup, Hannah was ready to face the remainder of the day. There wasn’t much left. It was overcast, and the sky was already darkening outside her kitchen window.

  “I’ve got to go, Moishe,” Hannah said, and as if on cue, the phone rang. Delores? Andrea? Mike? Hannah wanted to let the answering machine get it, but she was too curious to wait through her outgoing message. She shoved back her chair, lifted the receiver, and answered.

  “Hannah?” It was Mason Kimball’s voice. “We’ve got a problem
, and I need you on the set early.”

  “Okay. What’s the problem?”

  “We’re changing the format for the show tonight, and I need to go over some things with you.”

  “When do you want me there?”

  “Ten minutes ago. This could take a while. You’d better bring your outfit for tonight and you can change in Dee-Dee’s mobile dressing room. How soon can you get here?”

  Hannah glanced at the clock. It was three-thirty. “I’m leaving right now. I have to stop at the shop to pick up my box of ingredients for tonight, then I’ll drive right over. I should be there by four-fifteen.”

  “Good. Come straight to the set. No one’s there right now, and it’s my only chance to check out camera angles with you.”

  Hannah said good-bye and made quick work of gathering up her things and leaving the condo complex.

  Traffic was light, and Hannah made good time. She breezed in the back door of The Cookie Jar at three-forty-five and pushed through the swinging door to tell Lisa that she was back.

  “Hi, Lisa.” Hannah caught her new partner in the act of draping the mirror behind the counter with a garland made of pine branches. “That looks nice.”

  “Thanks, Hannah. Dad made it in one of his craft classes at the Senior Center. Are you here to stay?”

  Hannah shook her head. “No, I’m just passing through. Mason Kimball called, and he wants me on the set early. I just stopped by to pick up the box of ingredients for tonight.”

  “It’s on the counter next to the sink. Just take the one box. I’ll bring the chilled dough, and Dad can carry in the one with the pans and the bowls.”

  “Your dad’s coming to see you again?”

  “Mr. Drevlow can’t make it, but Mrs. Beeseman offered to sit with him while I’m up there helping you on the set.”

  “Really?” Hannah tried not to sound as surprised as she felt. Marge Beeseman usually sat with her own group of friends.

  “Herb asked her. Dad told him how much he wanted to go, and Herb said he’d arrange it.”

  Hannah started to smile. Things must be getting serious between Herb and Lisa if he’d asked his mother to do a favor for her.

  “After the show, we’re all going out to the inn for the party. Dad says he’s going to ask Mrs. Beeseman to dance. He’s still a real good dancer. And she promised Herb that if Dad asked her, she would.”

  Hannah’s smile grew wider as she pictured the unlikely double date. “I’ve got to run, Lisa. I’ll see you later, at the school. If Mike calls before you leave, tell him I don’t know any more than I did last night.”

  “I will.” Lisa stepped back and eyed the pine garland critically. “I think it needs some red-velvet bows.”

  “You’re my decorating expert. If you want to buy bows, take some money out of the register. Get a receipt and leave it in the tax box under the counter.”

  “Red-velvet bows are tax deductible?”

  “Stan Kramer does our taxes. And with Stan, everything’s a tax deduction.”

  Hannah glanced at her watch as she pulled into the school parking lot. She was ten minutes early, and that was a miracle. It would give her time to return the pen before she met Mason on the set.

  As she drove around the building and prepared to pull up next to the production truck, she saw P.K. standing on the metal steps, smoking. Hannah rolled down her window and called out to him. “I’ve got the pen you let me use last night. Wait a second, and I’ll give it to you.”

  P.K. walked over to her truck as she parked. Hannah left the garment bag hanging from the hook in the back. She could get it later, after she finished talking to Mason on the set. P.K. took her box of ingredients, and they walked toward the production truck together.

  “I can let you in, but I’ve got to take off,” P.K. informed her, setting the box on the top step and unlocking the door. “I have to run out to the station to pick up some things. Do you want me to put this box on the set for you?”

  “I can take it. I have to go there anyway. Do you want me to put the pen in Mason’s office?”

  “Yeah. There’s a penholder on his desk. Just stick it in there and make sure you lock up when you leave.”

  “I will,” Hannah promised, stepping aside so that P.K. could descend the narrow steps. She gave a little wave as he headed off to his car, then she opened the door and stepped inside the production truck.

  Mason’s office was at the far end of the hall, in the very back of the truck. Hannah passed the room where she’d watched Rudy’s outtakes and stopped with her hand on the knob of Mason’s closed door. She knew he wasn’t here, but she knocked anyway, just in case someone else was using his office and Rudy hadn’t known about it. When there was no answer, she opened the door and stepped in.

  The room was a lot smaller than Hannah had thought it would be, just a cubbyhole with a desk, a swivel chair, and bare walls devoid of pictures. For a moment, Hannah wondered why no one had bothered to decorate the boss’s office, but then she remembered that this was a mobile production truck. Pictures would have fallen off the walls and broken in transit.

  There were pictures on Mason’s desk. Hannah noticed them as she slipped the keepsake pen in the holder. He probably kept them in a desk drawer when the truck was moving, but since it was parked for the duration of the bake-off, he’d taken them out and arranged them on the top of his desk. There was one of Ellen in a gold frame, smiling at the camera and looking ten years younger. There was another of Mason and Craig, and Hannah could tell that it was a recent photo. Father and son were both beaming, and together, they were holding up a silver trophy. It was a cup with a silver basketball at its base and both of them looked proud and happy.

  She stared at the picture for a moment. It must have been taken at the award ceremony that Delores had mentioned, when Craig had broken Jordan High’s scoring record. Craig was dressed in his basketball uniform and Mason was wearing a blue blazer with a white shirt and…

  Hannah gasped as she noticed something shiny on Mason’s shirtsleeve. The sleeve of his blazer had pulled up as he’d lifted the award with Craig and his cuff link was exposed. She picked up the photo for a closer look and almost dropped it as she realized that Mason’s cuff link was shaped like a horse head with a diamond for the eye.

  She stood there for a moment, her knees shaking and her heart racing with the awful realization. Mason had lied to her about the cuff links. He’d had them all along.

  And that meant Mason was the killer.

  Hannah froze as she heard footsteps outside, approaching the production truck. Someone was coming, and she had to get out of Mason’s office right away. She couldn’t let him know that she’d seen the picture and guessed his secret.

  For one frightening moment, Hannah’s feet refused to obey her command to flee. Then panic took over and she dashed out of Mason’s office in a flash, rushing down the hall and heading straight for the phone on P.K.’s desk. She had to call Mike right away and tell him that Mason Kimball was the killer.

  Hannah had just grabbed the phone when she heard heavy footsteps on the metal stairs. And then the door opened and Mason came in. He was wearing a smile that made Hannah shudder as the phone dropped from her nerveless fingers.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “There you are, Hannah.” Mason gave her his chilling smile. “I believe we have an appointment?”

  Hannah took a deep breath. She had no choice but to brazen it out. Perhaps Mason didn’t know she’d realized that he was the murderer, and it was only her own fear that was playing tricks with her mind.

  “You’re right. Let’s go, Mason.” Hannah brushed past him and headed for the door. “I was just returning a pen that I borrowed from P.K. last night. Don’t let me forget to lock the door behind us.”

  Mason didn’t say anything, but Hannah could feel his menacing presence behind her as she reached for the doorknob. She had to get outside. They were alone in here, but there might be people in the parking lot. She’d be sa
fe around other people.

  Her hands were trembling so hard, she couldn’t turn the doorknob. Hannah tried once and failed. Then Mason reached forward, around her waist, and Hannah had all she could do not to scream out in terror.

  “I’ll get it,” Mason said, turning the knob and pushing the door open. But instead of letting her walk past him, he blocked the exit with his arm and turned around to face her. “Why are your hands shaking like that?”

  “Because I’m freezing.” Hannah said the first thing that popped into her mind. If Mason thought she was afraid of him, he’d know she’d guessed the truth. “The heater on my truck went out.”

  Mason smiled again. “Very good, Hannah. If I didn’t know better, I might believe you.”

  “What?” Hannah tried for her most innocent expression.

  “I know you figured it out. It’s right on your face.”

  Hannah felt her hopes die but she gave it one last shot. “Figured out what, Mason?”

  “It’s too late to play games.” Mason gave a bitter laugh. “You tipped your hand when you asked me about the cuff links. I knew you’d seen the pictures Lucy took. But I figured no one would connect the cuff links with me and even if they did, they couldn’t prove anything. Then Craig came out to the truck this afternoon to tell me you were asking about steroids, and I knew it wouldn’t be long before you put the pieces together. It’s a pity you figured it out, Hannah. Now I’ll have to kill you.”

  Hannah swallowed hard, attempting to dislodge the lump of panic that filled her throat. “You can’t kill me here. P.K. will be back any minute.”

  “No, he won’t. I waited until he left before I came in. But you’re right, Hannah. Someone could drive by and hear the shot.” Mason reached out and grabbed her arm. “Come on. We’re going to the kitchen set. When they find your body on the news tonight, it’ll give the ratings a real boost.”