Peach Cobbler Murder

by Joanne Fluke

  “Were you engaged to Neil Roper?” Hannah asked.

  For a split second, Gloria looked as if she’d deny it, but then she sighed. “Yes. I should have known it would come out.”

  “And he’s the same Neil Roper that Vanessa Quinn married?”

  “That’s right. Who told you about it? Luanne Hanks?”

  Andrea stepped in quickly. “It doesn’t matter. The important thing is, we know.”

  “What we don’t know is how everything went down,” Hannah jumped into the opening her sister had left for her. “Why don’t you tell us exactly what happened after you and Mr. Roper broke up.”

  Gloria sighed deeply. “That’s just it. We didn’t break up. I thought everything was just fine. You probably know that Neil was older.”

  “We know,” Hannah confirmed. And then she was silent as one of Sally’s waitresses approached the table to bring them a carafe of coffee, three cups, and a plate of fresh cinnamon rolls. “Go on,” she prompted, once the waitress had left.

  “That’s just it. I don’t know exactly how all this happened, but I think it all started after Neil broke his ankle skiing.”

  “Skiing?” Andrea asked.

  “That’s right. He was very active for his age. He went off to visit an old friend in Aspen, and when he came back, his ankle was in a cast. That wouldn’t have been so bad, but a week later the housekeeper who’d been with him for over thirty years died of a heart attack.”

  Hannah held her breath, waiting for the third incident. Her grandmother had always said bad things came in threes.

  “Neil hired another housekeeper and both of us thought that things were looking up, but his ankle started to give him a lot of pain. It just wasn’t healing right. The doctor suggested a physical therapist and Neil hired someone through a medical registry. And that’s really all I know. I spoke to him once on the phone after that, and…that’s it.”

  “What!” Hannah gasped, not quite believing her ears. “You mean…you didn’t see Neil again?”

  “No. It sounds crazy when I say it, but every time I called the house, Neil was in therapy, or sleeping, or out of town, or whatever. He sent cards and flowers and things like that, but I didn’t actually get to see him, or even talk to him except that once.”

  “Tell us about that,” Andrea prompted.

  “It was about a week after he hired the therapist. I called the house and Neil answered the phone. He didn’t sound like himself at all. At first I thought he was drunk, but Neil didn’t drink. Then, when he said something about how the nurse had gone to get his pill, I realized that he must be on some very strong pain medication. It really scared me. He was perfectly polite, but he didn’t seem to be able to answer any questions and he sounded horribly confused. He asked me my name several times, but I don’t think he knew who I was!”

  “That’s awful!” Andrea exclaimed, shivering slightly. “What did you do?”

  “I called Neil’s doctor, but he wouldn’t give me any information. I wasn’t a relative, you see. And then I called Neil’s house again and asked to speak to his physical therapist. I told her how concerned I was about Neil’s state of mind, and she said not to worry, that he’d been in a lot of pain and she’d given him the maximum dose of medication that the doctor had prescribed.”

  “And you bought her story?” Hannah asked, frowning slightly.

  “Yes, I did. She seemed competent and pleasant, and I took her advice and stopped worrying. And the next morning a bouquet came for me at the office. It was from Neil and he said he was sorry I’d worried, but he was just fine, he loved me, and he hoped to be back on his feet soon.”

  “So you stopped worrying?” Andrea wanted to know.

  “For a while. You’ve got to understand that Neil and I didn’t see each other every day. He was still very active in his business and he traveled extensively. There were weeks when I didn’t see him, but he’d always call or send flowers. My own job is very demanding, and I work extended hours. That’s one of the reasons I planned to quit after we were married. Then, when he went to Paris, or London, or Beijing, I could go with him.”

  “So how much time passed between the time you spoke to Neil on the phone and when you started to worry again?”

  “Three weeks. It was a busy time at Pretty Girl and I was distracted by work. And the flowers kept coming, my favorite daffodils every Monday morning. I really didn’t think anything was wrong until I glanced at my calendar and realized that I hadn’t actually spoken to Neil in almost a month. I’d called, but the physical therapist always answered and she said Neil was fine. It was almost as if she took over his life, which is exactly what happened.”

  “What do you mean?” Andrea’s eyes narrowed.

  “I mean, before I quite knew what was happening, Neil and the therapist were married.”

  “Vanessa Quinn?” Hannah asked, just to set the record straight.

  “Yes. I kept calling, but I never got Neil on the phone. And I never spoke to him again.” Gloria blinked back tears, and swallowed hard. “I’m convinced Vanessa killed him. I just wish I’d been able to do something to prevent it, but…”

  “A woman scorned,” Hannah quoted.

  “You’re absolutely right. I called the police and begged them to investigate, but they said there was no evidence that anything was wrong. I was just the jilted fiancée with a grudge. They wouldn’t believe me when I said I thought the physical therapist had been drugging Neil to hold him hostage until she could marry him, and then kill him.”

  “Do you really think that’s what happened?”

  “I do. When I read about Neil’s death in the papers, I got suspicious, especially since Vanessa inherited everything. Neil always told me he planned to leave part of his estate to his cousin’s daughter, who was working two part-time jobs to get through college. But he didn’t leave anything to her. Everything went to Vanessa, his bride of less than ten months. I’ll eat my hat if Neil married her of his own free will. There’s something really fishy about his death, and that’s not just sour grapes on my part.”

  Hannah nodded, ignoring the fact that Gloria had used three figures of speech in one breath, and that had to be some kind of a record. “Let’s move on to what happened when you got to Lake Eden. You came here because of Vanessa, didn’t you?”

  “Yes. Pretty Girl was looking for a spot for their retreat and it was the perfect opportunity for me to come to Lake Eden without arousing any suspicion. The inn is wonderful, by the way. We voted unanimously to hold our retreat here every year.”

  “Sally will be happy to hear that,” Andrea said, and then she gazed at Hannah to show that she was through interrupting the questioning.

  “Did you talk to Vanessa?”

  “No, I didn’t have the opportunity. The day I got here, I drove to the Magnolia Blossom Bakery. I intended to ask Vanessa about Neil.”

  “What time was that?” Hannah asked, her pen at the ready.

  “I left the inn a little after five-thirty, so I must have gotten to Lake Eden around six. But the bakery was locked and no one answered when I knocked at the door.”

  “What did you do then?”

  “I walked around the back. When I turned the corner of the building, I saw that the back door was standing open.”

  “Did you go in?”

  “Yes, I walked to the stairs and shouted out Vanessa’s name. Nobody answered me. The kitchen lights were on so I took several steps inside, and…and that was when I saw Vanessa lying there on the floor.”

  “But it wasn’t Vanessa,” Andrea broke in with an apologetic glance at Hannah.

  “I know that now, but I didn’t know it then. I never met Vanessa in person, and all I had to go by was the picture I clipped out of the paper when they ran their marriage announcement.”

  “So what did you do when you saw Shawna Lee?”

  “I…I panicked. I knew if anybody figured out the connection between us, they’d think I killed her. She was dead. I could see tha
t. And there wasn’t anything anybody could do for her. So I…I just backed right out of there, pulled the door shut, and hurried back to my car.”

  “What time was that?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t look at my watch. All I remember was that church bells had started to peal and I figured that the ceremony was almost over. That meant I had to hurry and get back out to the inn so I could change to my dress clothes before the wedding party arrived.”

  “Truth?” Andrea asked, sliding in behind the wheel of her Volvo.

  “I think so.”

  “So do I. And it just goes to show.”

  “Goes to show what?” Hannah asked, wincing at her own awkward sentence construction.

  “That I’m not the only one who mistook one sister for the other.” There was the sound of faint ringing and Andrea grabbed her purse. “Hold the wheel, Hannah. I’ve got to catch this call.”

  As Andrea drew her phone out of her purse and pressed the button to answer the call, Hannah peered through the windshield, guiding the car from the passenger seat. Was this legal? And if they got into an accident, would it be her fault, or Andrea’s? Would they write it up as a cell-phone-related auto accident, even though she’d had her hands on the wheel? And did it really matter whose hands they were?

  “Hi, Mother.” Andrea held the phone to her ear with her left hand and took the wheel back with her right. “You can let go now, Hannah. I’ve got it.”

  “You’re sure you can talk and drive at the same time?” Hannah asked, not willing to be a state highway statistic.

  “I’m positive.” Andrea proved it by cutting over a lane without signaling. “That’s right, Mother. You did hear Hannah’s name. We’re just coming back from the Lake Eden Inn.”

  Hannah squeezed her eyes shut. It was always difficult to ride with Andrea at the best of times, and this obviously wasn’t the best. And if she indulged her inclination to slip into the role of backseat driver, Andrea would be insulted.

  “Of course we will, Mother.” Andrea jerked the wheel to the right and took the turnoff for Lake Eden at the last possible second. “We’ll be there in less than ten minutes. Just sit down and relax until we get there.”

  “We’re going to Granny’s Attic?” Hannah guessed when Andrea ended the call.

  “No, to Mother’s house,” Andrea corrected. “She went home at noon today.”

  “Is she sick?” Hannah felt her heart start to pound in alarm. Delores never took a day off unless she was seriously ill.

  “I don’t think so. But there’s something wrong with her.”

  “Did she say that?”

  “Not exactly. She just asked both of us to come over because she needed some advice.”

  “She needs advice from us?”

  “That’s what she said.”

  “Then Mother must really be in trouble. She’s never asked us for advice before.”

  CHOCOLATE ALMOND TOAST

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

  1½ cups melted butter (3 sticks)

  1 cup cocoa powder (unsweetened)

  2½ cups brown sugar

  5 large eggs beaten (just whip them up in a glass with a fork)

  4 teaspoons baking soda

  1 teaspoon salt

  2 teaspoons vanilla

  1 cup slivered almonds

  6 cups flour (not sifted)

  Melt the butter and mix in the cocoa. Add the brown sugar. Let it cool slightly and then stir in the beaten eggs. Add the soda, salt, vanilla, and slivered almonds. Stir until well blended. Add the flour in half-cup increments, mixing after each addition.

  Spray two cookie sheets with nonstick cooking spray. Divide the dough into five parts, forming each part into a free-form loaf, 1 inch high, 7 to 8 inches long, and 3 to 4 inches wide. Place 2 loaves on one cookie sheet and 3 loaves on the other. Bake the loaves at 350 degrees F. for 35 minutes.

  Cool the loaves on the cookie sheets for 10 minutes, but DON’T SHUT OFF THE OVEN. Transfer the loaves to a wire rack and cool for another 5 minutes. Slice them (just like bread) into ¾-inch-thick pieces with a sharp knife. (The end pieces don’t need more baking—save them to dunk in your coffee while the rest are baking.)

  Place the slices on their cut sides on the greased cookie sheets. Bake the slices for an additional 5 minutes, flip them over to expose the other cut side, and bake them for an additional 10 minutes. Let them cool on the cookie sheet for 5 minutes and then remove them to a wire rack to complete cooling.

  These are great dunking cookies. If you want to make them look like biscotti, just dip the tops in melted chips (I use milk chocolate), set them on a piece of waxed paper, and refrigerate them to set the chocolate.

  Yield: Approximately 4 dozen, depending on cookie size.

  Chapter Twenty

  When Delores answered the doorbell, Hannah had all she could do to hide her shock. Their mother looked old for the very first time. After a glance at Andrea, Hannah knew that their mother’s appearance had also disturbed her sister. Something was drastically wrong.

  “Hi, Mother. What’s up?” Hannah tried for a note of levity, but it didn’t work. She sounded flip and that’s not what she meant at all. “Sorry. That came out wrong.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Delores said flatly, stepping aside so that they could enter. “Come on, girls. I have coffee set out in the living room.”

  Hannah took a deep breath for courage as Delores led the way. Most family discussions were held in the kitchen around the circular oak table. That’s where Delores told Andrea how much she could spend for her prom dress, and where they all sat around and discussed which college applications Hannah should fill out. The living room was only used for matters of gravity, like when Andrea announced that she wanted to marry Bill, and when Hannah had asked to stay in college for another year to get her master’s instead of coming back to teach English at Jordan High.

  “I’m worried about you, Mother,” Hannah said the second she sat down. “Are you ill?”

  “I’m not ill, just heartsick. I really thought Winthrop was the man for me. He was so perfect in every way. But now I’ve discovered that he has a…a fondness for other women.”

  Hannah glanced at Andrea, but she gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head that meant it was up to the oldest sister to handle this. “You knew that, Mother. Remember the night of the Christmas Potluck Dinner when he was flirting with Carrie, and Bertie Straub, and Florence Evans?”

  “I remember. But that was harmless fun. I know that Winthrop would never have actually…well, you know…with any one of them. I know he has a…um…wandering eye. But this time I think more than his eye is wandering, if you know what I mean.”

  Andrea kept her eyes carefully lowered and Hannah read the signal loud and clear. Her younger sister was still out of her depth and it was up to her to counsel their mother.

  “What makes you suspect that this…uh…current incident is more than a…an innocent flirtation?” Hannah asked, digging deeply into her store of euphemisms.

  “It’s the woman involved. I wouldn’t be concerned about women like Carrie, or Florence, or Bertie. But in this case, there’s her reputation to consider. And then there’s the age factor.”

  “I see,” Hannah said, surprised that she actually did. “So the woman you suspect of…er…dallying with Winthrop is younger and has a reputation for…um…dallying.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Well, in that case, because of the age factor and…” Hannah stopped cold and stared at her mother. She’d just run out of euphemisms. “Why are we talking this way?”

  “Which way?”

  “Beating around the bush,” Hannah said, aware that she’d just used another one. “You’re afraid Winthrop is two-timing you with a younger woman who’s got a bad reputation. Is that right?”

  “Well. If you put it like that…” Delores took a bracing breath. “Yes, that’s exactly right. And I don’t know what I should do
about it!”

  Andrea raised her eyes for the first time since the conversation had opened and locked eyes with their mother. “Kill him,” she said. “That’s what I’d do to Bill if he cheated on me.”

  “But you’re married, and I’m not.”

  “So how close to being married are you?” Hannah asked, taking over the questioning again. “I mean, Andrea and I don’t want to know about your personal relationship or anything like that, but has Winthrop asked you to marry him?”

  “Yes. Several times. And I said yes. I think you could say that we were unofficially engaged. He sent to England for his mother’s ring several weeks ago.”

  Hannah came close to groaning, but she stifled that impulse. Their mother needed their help, not censure. “What made you suspicious? Did you see Winthrop with another woman?”

  “Not exactly. It’s just that Winthrop has a picture of Shawna Lee Quinn.”

  That was an act ender if ever there was one, and Hannah had the unfortunate impulse to applaud. If this were a play, she’d ring down the curtain. But their mother looked miserable. The strong woman who knew her own mind and would stop at nothing to get her way appeared utterly defeated.

  “Get a handle on it, Mother,” Hannah said, deciding that a dose of strong medicine was in order. “This isn’t the time to play drama queen.”

  “I’ve never played drama queen in my life!” Two bright spots of color appeared in Delores’s cheeks, and her eyes began to flash fire. “What are you talking about, Hannah?”

  “You’re worrying about Shawna Lee Quinn. She’s no competition for you anymore. She’s dead.”

  “I know, but…” Delores started to frown. “You’re right. She’s dead and I’m not. But I still want to know why Winthrop’s keeping her picture.”

  “Why don’t you just ask him?” Andrea suggested, causing both women to turn and look at her.