Peach Cobbler Murder

by Joanne Fluke

  Hannah groaned. Several more options, the possibility of entering an endless loop with no way out except hanging up, some forgettable background music, and an irritatingly cheerful voice that told her that her call was important and she should stay on the line, and Norman’s friendly one-dentist clinic could join the telephonic ranks of the conglomerates.

  “What is it?” Andrea asked, noticing Hannah’s disgruntled expression.

  “Norman’s new telephone system. It’s got all these options.”

  “Press zero.”

  “That’s one option it didn’t give me.”

  “Just try it anyway. Sometimes a zero will bypass everything else and connect you with a live person.”

  Hannah pressed zero and she heard a ringing sound. A second later, Norman answered. “Are you live?” she asked.

  “Last time I looked. What’s up, Hannah?”

  “I hate your new telephone system.”

  “So do I.”

  “Then why did you buy it?”

  “I didn’t. Mother decided I needed one and she signed me up for a month’s trial subscription.”

  “Oh.” Hannah gave a rueful smile. Their mothers often did things like that. “So you’re not going to keep it?”

  “No, they’re coming in to take it out this afternoon. I canceled yesterday when it wanted me to put in a twelve digit alphanumeric code to retrieve my messages and it only gave me three seconds to do it.”

  “That sounds like a good reason to me. Are you really busy this morning?”

  “Let’s see.” Hannah could hear pages rustling and she imagined that Norman was at the front desk, paging through his appointment book. “Not really. I’ve got a final fitting for caps, a broken upper plate, and a whitening appointment. The whitening’s the only thing that’ll take time. Did you need me to pull a couple of teeth?”

  “No, thanks. I’m firmly attached to every one of mine. I just need you to look up something on your computer, if you’ve got the time.”

  “I’ve got an hour between the caps and the whitening.”

  “Great. I need to know everything I can about Vanessa’s background.”

  “That’s easy. I’ll run a search for Vanessa Quinn. Do you know her married name?”

  Hannah turned to Andrea who’d just sat down at the kitchen workstation with the cookies she’d liberated from the baker’s rack. “What name did Vanessa use when she bought the bakery?”

  “Quinn. She said she went back to her maiden name when her husband died.”

  “Do you know his name?”

  Andrea shook her head. “I don’t think I ever heard it. She always referred to him as my husband, or him.”

  “We don’t know,” Hannah reported, turning back to the phone, “but we will. I’ve got a real estate professional here who can get information from anyone. Just tell me what else you need to know to get the goods on Vanessa, and I’ll call you back with the answers.”

  The moment Hannah hung up the phone, Lisa opened the swinging door from the coffee shop. “I just got a call on the other line. Vanessa wants you to come over. She said something about closing her bakery and getting rid of all the capital assets.”

  “She said capital assets?” Hannah was shocked.

  “No, she said stuff. But I know what she meant. Anyway, she’ll give you first pick if you want to buy something.”

  “Do I?”

  “I think you do if the price is right. She’s got a brand-new mixer and she said it was barely used.”

  Hannah snorted. If what she’d discovered about the Southern Peach Cobbler held true for their other desserts, everything Shawna Lee and Vanessa had served at the Magnolia Blossom Bakery had come straight out of the freezer.

  “I know it’s not fair to ask you to do it because you can’t stand her because of Mike and all, but I think you should at least take a look.”

  “Andrea has to talk to her anyway, so I’ll tag along,” Hannah said, deciding on the spot. “We don’t want to miss out on something good.”

  “Exactly. We could use another baker’s rack, and who knows what else she’s got? Not only that, she sounded…funny.”

  “Funny ha-ha, or funny peculiar?” Hannah asked, using her third grade teacher’s question. Mrs. Carlson had still been teaching when Lisa was in school.

  “Funny peculiar. It was like we were on a time delay, the kind you get when you talk to someone in a foreign country. I’d ask a question and there’d be this total silence for a couple of seconds, and then she’d answer.”

  “Great,” Hannah said, turning to give Andrea a quick smile. “There are two possibilities. Vanessa’s still half whacked from the wake, or she’s got a killer hangover. Either way, we win.”

  Hannah and Andrea went out the back door and walked around the side of the building, rather than have all the patrons in The Cookie Jar ask what they were doing. Hannah wasn’t looking forward to seeing Vanessa, but Norman needed information and it would be foolish to pass up a golden opportunity to get more baking supplies and equipment at a hefty discount.

  “I still don’t know why you wanted me to bring her a gift,” Hannah grumbled, shifting the candy box she was carrying to her other hand. “It’s not like we’re paying a social call.”

  “I know, but if Vanessa’s got a hangover from the Orange Julius Screwdrivers you told me about, Aunt Kitty’s Rum Balls might make her feel better.”

  “Hair of the dog?”

  “It’s supposed to work. Where does that come from anyway?”

  “Ancient Greece. The Asclepian dog. They believed he was magical and hair from his coat that was made into a potion cured disease.”

  “Well, your rum balls cure pain. I can testify to that. I had three at Lisa and Herb’s reception and my feet stopped hurting.”

  “Maybe that’s because you were sitting on a bar stool at the time,” Hannah said.

  “Maybe,” Andrea conceded. “It was a stroke of genius to put them behind the bar with the champagne, instead of out on the dessert table. It made them even more special.”

  “That was Sally’s idea, so the kids couldn’t get into them.”

  “Well, it was a good one. Let’s climb the snowbank.”

  “Okay,” Hannah said, immediately feeling better. There was something exhilarating about climbing up a snowbank and racing down the other side. “Can you do it in those high-heeled boots?”

  “Of course. I’m used to wearing boots with high heels and these are only medium high. Besides, they dig in and help me keep my balance.”

  Hannah wasn’t taking any chances. Once they’d reached the top of the snowbank, she held out her hand to help Andrea down from the peak. “Vanessa’s supposed to be waiting for us in front. When we knock on the bakery door, she’ll let us in.”

  It only took a moment to dash across the street. Hannah knocked on the door while Andrea stomped the snow off her boots.

  “Hello, Hannah.” Vanessa greeted her cordially enough, but Hannah noticed that she was wearing dark glasses. Her hangover must have hit. “And Andrea! How is that handsome husband of yours?”

  “Bill’s fine,” Andrea replied, and Hannah could tell that her sister’s polite smile was twenty degrees below chilly.

  “We’re sorry for your loss,” Hannah said, giving her sister a chance to regroup. “It must have been a terrible shock.”

  “It…was. Did you come to see the stuff?”

  “Yes. And to bring you these.” Hannah shoved the candy box into Vanessa’s hands and saw that they were shaking slightly. She must have really tied one on last night.

  “Candy?” Vanessa asked, several beats too late. Lisa was right. She was definitely on time-delay.

  “Aunt Kitty’s Rum Balls,” Andrea pulled herself together enough to answer. “We thought you might like them.”

  “Oh. Well…thank you.”

  “What are you selling?” Hannah asked her.

  “Um…everything. Even the stuff in the apartment. I…decided to
go back to Georgia and it’s like…why should I keep stuff I’m never going to use again?”

  “Good point,” Hannah said. “How about in here? Are the tables and chairs for sale?”

  “Oh…well…they must be. I don’t need them.” Vanessa waved her hand at the table and chairs Hannah had envied when she’d looked through the front window.

  “How about the cash register?” Andrea asked.

  “Oh…that, too. I guess. I mean…why would I keep it? And all the cookie jars and everything else. I don’t want to be in business again. It…was Shawna Lee’s idea. I was just along for the…ride.”

  “What do you think you’ll do after you go back to Georgia?” Hannah asked politely.

  “Oh. Well…I might take acting lessons. You see…I really don’t have to do anything. Mike thinks I should just…indulge myself. At least I think that’s what he said. That way the people who need the jobs can…have them.”

  “Must be nice,” Hannah said, deciding to change the subject before she gave in to the impulse to plant one between Vanessa’s eyes just for fun. In her present state, she probably wouldn’t even feel it. “How about the kitchen? What are you selling in there?”

  “Everything. I already told…your girl about the mixer. Shawna Lee didn’t use the kitchen things…much.”

  “Could we see the kitchen?” Andrea asked.

  “Oh. Sure. Why not?” Vanessa reached out to steady herself against the wall and led the way to the kitchen. “Everything in here is…up for grabs. I just want to…get away.”

  One glance around the kitchen had Hannah drooling. They could certainly use the mixer. Theirs was on its last legs. And their food processor was also getting ready to give up the ghost. Then there were the ovens. Hannah figured she’d probably commit a jailable offense to get her hands on the ovens. They were top-of-the-line models and the ovens at The Cookie Jar had been through two different owners before she’d purchased them used.

  Hannah wanted to rave about the equipment, but she kept her mouth firmly closed. She had a theory about rich people. She believed that money was addictive. People who had it almost always wanted more of it, even if they had more than they could possibly spend. They hardly ever gave things away at a bargain if there was a profit to be made. It was to this end that she looked around and gave a little shrug. “I don’t know. We’re pretty well stocked already. I guess we could use a couple of those baker’s racks, but let me think about it, okay?”

  “Uh…sure. But don’t wait too long. I want to go home soon. Come on. I’ll show you the apartment.”

  “I’d love to see it,” Andrea said. “Do you have a couple of minutes for coffee? You really should taste the rum balls that Hannah made. They’re delicious.”

  “Rum balls? Oh, yes. These.” Vanessa glanced down at the box she was holding. Then the question that Andrea had asked seemed to register and she led the way inside and started up the stairs to her apartment. “I didn’t…make any coffee.”

  “I’ll make it,” Hannah said, heading up the stairs behind Vanessa. “I make great coffee. You have some, don’t you?”

  “I think…there’s some in the kitchen.”

  Hannah turned to give Andrea a wink. It was clear that Vanessa’s antenna wasn’t receiving a full lineup of channels this morning. This would be almost like shooting fish in a barrel.

  On her way up the stairs, Hannah thought about shooting fish in a barrel. What fun would there be in that? Had anyone actually done it? If they had, all it would take was one shot. Then all the water would run out of the barrel and you could just reach in and get the fish.

  “Kitchen,” Vanessa said, pointing to the room on the right at the top of the stairs. “Coffee should be…there.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll find it,” Hannah said, letting Vanessa lead Andrea into the living room.

  “I can’t believe this is the same building,” Hannah heard Andrea say. “You must have had these rooms professionally decorated.”

  Hannah didn’t stick around to hear Vanessa’s answer. It was all too true, at least as far as Hannah could see. The bedroom across the hall looked absolutely perfect, as if it were part of a bedroom display at a furniture store, without a speck of originality or a trace of anything personal.

  As she stepped into the kitchen, Hannah knew the same decorator had been at work. It was truly gorgeous with color-coordinated towels and pot holders that no one had ever used. Just to make sure, Hannah peeked in the oven. No spills, and the electric coils looked as if they’d never been heated. It was obvious that neither sister cooked, or if they did, they used the microwave.

  Hannah busied herself opening cupboard doors, ostensibly looking for the coffee. She found it on the second try, but she pretended she hadn’t and snooped her way through the southern sisters’ kitchen.

  There wasn’t much to eat on the cupboard shelves unless you wanted to count a jar of coffee whitener and a half-empty and mostly petrified package of Fig Newtons. The refrigerator didn’t yield much in the way of foodstuff, either. There was a squeeze bottle of catsup, a carton of menthol cigarettes, and a package of sliced cheese that had seen much fresher days. A jar of Miracle Whip with the top on crooked sat on the top shelf, and a six-pack of double-A batteries with three missing completed the picture.

  She was supposed to be making coffee, Hannah reminded herself, and she hurried to put it on. While the coffee was dripping down into the carafe she’d had to scour before using, she glanced inside the dishwasher. There was her pitcher! Hannah washed that, too, and set it up on the counter to take back to The Cookie Jar with her. She was about to close the dishwasher door again, when she noticed that someone had put silverware in the basket.

  Was that real silver? Hannah took out a spoon to examine it. It was Gorham silver flatware and it was expensive. Washing it in the dishwasher was a big mistake. Real silver should be hand washed and dried with a soft nonabrasive cloth, and very occasionally polished. Delores had taught her all about caring for silver at a very young age.

  Disturbed by the casual lack of respect for fine collectibles, Hannah took another look. There were three Limoges china plates crusted with something that looked like cheese sitting in the dishwasher rack. On the rack above were several Waterford wineglasses. Crystal and fine china should also be hand washed and dried. Hannah was glad her mother wasn’t with her. Delores would have a heart attack if she knew about the cavalier way Vanessa and Shawna Lee had treated their possessions. It seemed that both Quinn sisters were experts at spending money, but total fools when it came to caring for the fine things they’d purchased.

  Hannah shut the dishwasher door and immediately felt guilty, even though there was no reason why she should. These weren’t her china plates, crystal glasses, or silver flatware. She wasn’t mistreating them. If they were ruined, the blame would rest squarely on the shoulders of the person who’d put the collectibles in the dishwasher in the first place. But she reached out to open the door again. She couldn’t just stand by idly while someone mistreated these expensive items. It would be like watching a child step off the curb when a truck was coming and not grabbing his arm to haul him back to safety.

  Even though she tried to banish the image, Hannah saw her mother’s face in her mind. The imaginary Delores was wearing a disapproving frown and she was pointing her finger at Hannah. “Okay, okay,” Hannah muttered, turning on the faucet and running dishwater into the sink. She’d wash these things and leave a note for Vanessa, telling her they had to be hand washed or they’d be ruined. That would absolve her of any responsibility and put a smile on the face of the mother in her mind.

  When Hannah emerged from the kitchen, ten minutes later, she was carrying coffee on a tray she’d found in the cupboard. She stepped into the living room just in time to hear the answer to one of the questions they needed to ask, Vanessa’s husband’s first name.

  “Neil wanted to be cremated,” Vanessa said, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. “I think he knew it w
ould be easier for me. I just don’t know what to do about poor Shawna Lee!”

  “You don’t have to decide that right now. Wait until you’re thinking clearer,” Andrea advised.

  “Andrea’s right. There’s time to deal with all that later.” Hannah passed Vanessa a cup of coffee, and offered her the whitener and the sugar substitute she’d found. There were three empty frilled cups in the box of rum balls and Vanessa was speaking faster, without the time delay. “Have another rum ball. Our Aunt Kitty used to make them and she said they made her think more clearly.”

  “I need to think clearer,” Vanessa said, ignoring the little grammar lesson Hannah had done her best to impart. “I just never thought I’d be without my big sister!”

  Hannah reached out to move the rum balls closer. Andrea had gotten the husband’s first name and now they needed his last name. “It must be hard, especially since you just lost Mr.…I’m sorry. I don’t know your husband’s last name.”

  “Roper. Neil Roper. He was a lot older than me, but I just loved him to pieces, you know?”

  Hannah gave a polite nod to indicate that she understood, but it made her wonder exactly how Vanessa’s octogenarian husband had died. If Neil Roper had been hacked up into body parts by an intruder, Vanessa might very well have had a part in it.

  “Neil was so wonderful to me! I had everything I ever wanted and you should see the showplace he left me. It’s a real southern mansion, with magnolia trees and everything.”

  It was Andrea’s turn to nod and smile. “I’ve always wanted to live on a southern plantation, ever since the first time I saw Gone With the Wind. Where is your mansion, Vanessa?”