by Joanne Fluke
“Yes, but Cuddles helped me a little. She walked over the ink while it was still wet and made little cat tracks.”
Hannah laughed. She’d had similar experiences with Moishe. There was something about the point of a felt-tip pen that was fascinating to those of the feline persuasion. “Can I still read it?”
“Yes. I typed it up on the computer and printed it out for you.”
“Thanks, Norman.” Hannah snuggled a little deeper into the cushions of the couch in the den. Moishe and Cuddles were sleeping, curled up together, in the round kitty bed in front of the large-screen television set. “What time is it, anyway?”
“Almost ten. We’ve been at this for over three hours.”
“And we’ve gone through six hours. That means sixty hours of tape, fast-forwarded, roughly translates to thirty hours. Can you watch any more, Norman?”
“I don’t think so. I gave Doc Bennett six hours, Lisa and Herb took six hours, and Grandma McCann has six hours. If Michelle and Andrea have watched six hours apiece, that means we have twenty-four hours of tapes to go.”
“Is that like twenty-four bottles of beer on the wall?” Hannah asked, remembering the song they used to sing on the pep squad bus when she was in high school and they went to “away” basketball games.
“Yes, except it might be quicker to drink…never mind. It wasn’t a rational thought. Delores and Mom have a VCR down at Granny’s Attic. Maybe they’ll take turns watching tomorrow, and we can subtract another six hours.”
“Maybe, if they’re having a good night tonight.” Hannah stopped talking and frowned.
“What is it?”
“It’s crazy. They’re grown women, but I’m a little worried about them. I called Sally and asked about The Moosehead. There’s a hotel next door, and they’ve got a shuttle to the airport. I was thinking there might be some out-of-town salesmen and executives that stay there.”
“And you’re worried about our mothers?”
Hannah thought about that for a minute. “It’s not like it’s unfounded. Mother was crazy about Winthrop.”
“True.” Norman reached out and gave her a little hug. “Do you want to take a run to The Moosehead and see what’s going on?”
“Hi, guys!” Michelle called out, stepping inside the den. “I’m done with my six hours.”
“Me, too.” Andrea was right behind her. “We don’t have to watch more, do we?”
Norman shook his head. “Not if you’re as bored as we are.”
“I’d rather watch my fingernails grow. It’s a lot more interesting.” Michelle walked over to one of the chairs next to the couch and plopped down. “I conferred with Andrea, and we agree that we have nothing, absolutely nothing, to report.”
Andrea nodded as she took the other chair. “If we’d gotten the tapes from Mike, I’d think this was a runaround. But we didn’t. There’s just nothing but empty exercise rooms on the tapes we watched.”
“Same thing with our tapes,” Hannah said, giving a little shrug. “The most exciting thing we saw was a spider making a web on the water cooler.”
“At least you had a spider,” Michelle said. “Maybe the other tapes are more interesting, but we just can’t watch any more.”
“Hannah was a little concerned about your mother,” Norman told them, ignoring the sharp look that Hannah gave him. “What do you think? Will she be okay in a bar with out-of-state salesmen and business executives?”
“I don’t know.” Andrea gave him a hard look. “Will Carrie be okay with out-of-state salesmen and business executives?”
“I’ll drive,” Norman said.
There was a moment of silence while the three sisters exchanged glances, and then Hannah spoke. “We’ll ride with you,” she said.
“Good,” Norman said, heading for the closet to get their coats. “I printed out directions this morning, just in case. Let’s go see how the mothers are doing.”
BONNIE BROWNIE COOKIE BARS
Preheat oven to 350 degrees F., rack in the middle position.
4 one-ounce squares semi-sweet chocolate (or 3/4 cup chocolate chips)
3/4 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 vanilla extract
1 cup flour (pack it down in the cup when you measure it)
1/2 cup chopped cashews
1/2 cup chopped butterscotch chips
1/2 cup semi-sweet 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 another nonstick cooking spray.
Microwave the chocolate squares and butter in a microwave-safe mixing bowl on HIGH for 1 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 chocolate mixture. Feel the bowl. If it’s not so hot it’ll cook the eggs, add them now, stirring thoroughly. Mix in the vanilla extract.
Mix in the flour, and stir just until it’s moistened.
Put the cashews, butterscotch chips, and chocolate chips in the bowl of a food processor, and chop them together with the steel blade. (If you don’t have a food processor, you don’t have to buy one 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 by hand, and spread the batter out in your prepared pan. Smooth the top with a rubber spatula.
Bake at 350 degrees F. for 30 minutes.
Cool the Bonnie Brownie Cookie Bars 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. Place 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 if you wish.
Hannah’s Note: If you’re a chocoholic, or if you’re making these for Mother, frost them with Neverfail Fudge Frosting before you cut them.
Chapter Twenty-Five
If there had been more time between the opening of the outer door and the breaching of the inner door, Hannah might have reconsidered. The music barreled out to greet them, a rendition of “My Way” by a Frank Sinatra wannabe that was just as loud as it was incompetent.
“It must be karaoke night,” Michelle said.
“What?” Hannah moved closer to her youngest sister.
“I said it must be karaoke night,” Michelle shouted, very close to Hannah’s ear.
There was an empty table near the back, as far from the stage as they could get, and Norman led the way. The lighting was dim, and the stage was the only bright spot in the wood-paneled room. Red plastic banquettes lined two walls, and round wooden tables with wooden chairs were scattered throughout the rest of the space.
There was a candle on every table in a green glass holder, but that provided little light, barely enough to read the menu or the list of special drinks in a Plexiglas sleeve that leaned up against it. Except for the spotlights on the stage and the soft lights behind the bar, the room was deep with shadows.
Hannah glanced around, noting the wooden rafters that loomed above them. And that’s when she saw something that made her gasp.
“What’s the matter?” Norman asked her.
“It’s that moose head hanging over our table. I swear it moved.”
The other three looked up at the moose head. It was huge, with a magnificent rack, and Hannah guessed the animal’s weight when it was alive would have been close to a half-ton.
“I saw it move,” Michelle said, shrinking back slightly. “There! It did it again!”
Norman glanced up at the moose head and down at the table. “I think it’s the candle,” he said. “Whenever it flickers, it makes the moose head appear to mov
e.”
“Let’s test out your theory,” Hannah suggested, pulling the candle toward her and blowing it out. “There. Now let’s see if the moose head moves.”
They watched the wall for at least a minute, but absolutely nothing happened. The moose head remained stationary.
“You’re right,” Hannah told him. “Do you want to light the candle again?”
“I’ll do it.” The voice came from above, and they looked up to see a waitress standing by the table. She picked up the candle, drew the kind of lighter used to ignite a barbecue from her apron pocket, and lit the candle. “Was the moose head moving for you?”
“Yes,” Andrea said. “We thought maybe it was animated or something.”
“Oh, it’s animated, all right. Some people say it dances to the music if you have enough drinks.” The waitress gave a little laugh. “What’ll it be, folks?”
The waitress turned to Norman first, and Hannah thought that perhaps it was because she assumed her tip would come from him. “How about you?”
“I’ll have a ginger ale. I’m the designated driver.” Norman gave his order. “What would you like, Hannah?”
Hannah thought about it for a split second. If she had a glass of wine, she’d probably fall asleep at the table. There was another reason not to imbibe, and that had to do with her diet. A glass of dry white wine had about eighty calories. “I’ll have a diet drink. Coke, ginger ale, anything is fine.”
“The same for me,” Andrea said.
“I’ll have an ice-cream drink,” Michelle said, glancing down at the list of fancy drinks that had been propped up next to the candle. “You make your Brandy Alexanders with chocolate ice cream, don’t you?”
“That’s right.”
“I’ll have one of those, but leave out the brandy, please.”
“Okay, but it’s going to taste like a chocolate shake.”
“I know,” Michelle said with a smile.
While they were waiting for their drinks to arrive, Hannah turned to watch the stage. A woman a few years past her prime in an outfit that should have been worn by a teenager was singing a country western ballad about losing her job, and her boyfriend, and her car.
“She ought to just sing it backward,” Andrea said.
Norman looked puzzled. “Why should she do that?”
“Because then she’d get them all back.”
There were predictable groans around the table, and Andrea gave a dainty little shrug. “Don’t blame me. It’s Bill’s joke. He says it’s going around at the sheriff’s station.”
Hannah listened to the singer for a few moments and then she asked, “Does anybody know what karaoke means?”
“No clue,” Michelle said, and Andrea shook her head to show she didn’t know, either.
“I know it’s Japanese,” Norman answered her, “but that’s all I know.”
“It’s a compound word made from two Japanese words. Kara means empty, and oke is orchestra. When you put them together they mean empty orchestra.”
“That makes sense,” Norman said. “They usually remove the vocals from the sound track electronically, and that leaves only the orchestra.”
The singer tried for a high note and missed abysmally. Hannah gave a little groan and decided to concentrate on something else, anything else except the song and the singer. “Does anybody see the mothers?” she asked, scanning the dimly lighted room.
It took a few moments with all of them looking, and then Michelle leaned across the table. “There’s a blonde and a brunette over there in the far corner under the moose head by the Cold Spring beer sign.”
“That could be Mother and Carrie. I can’t really tell,” Andrea offered her opinion.
“I don’t think it is,” Norman said. “Mother never wears her hair like that.”
The country western song ended to loud applause. Hannah wasn’t sure if it was because the audience liked it, or whether they were relieved it was over.
“Maybe they left already,” Michelle suggested, taking a sip of the milkshake their waitress had delivered while they were scanning the room. “If they got what they needed right away, they could be home in Lake Eden right now.”
“I…don’t…think…so.” Hannah forced out the words from a throat that had gone suddenly dry. She swallowed with difficulty and followed it with, “Tell me that’s not Mother climbing the steps to the stage.”
Norman turned to look. “It’s Delores,” he confirmed, “and my mother is right behind her.”
“Are they going to sing?” Andrea sounded horrified.
“I don’t know what else they’d be doing up there,” Hannah told her.
“Good for them!” Michelle looked delighted. “I didn’t know Mother could sing.”
“She can’t,” Hannah said and left it at that. There was always the possibility that the floor would open up and swallow them. Or perhaps the karaoke machine would malfunction. Or maybe the microphone would start screeching with feedback and they’d have to shut it off.
Hannah watched in shock as the mothers reached the top step and turned to walk to the center of the stage. Delores picked up the microphone and held it between them as the first bars of the song they’d chosen began to play.
“What song is it?” Andrea asked.
“I don’t know,” Hannah answered her, and then she groaned as Carrie and Delores linked arms. “They’re not going to dance…are they?”
“I think they’re going to do some kind of step,” Michelle said.
“Bye Bye Love,” Norman said, and when all three Swensen sisters turned to look at him, he hurried to explain. “That’s what they’re going to sing. I recognize the intro. It’s an old Everly Brothers song.”
A few beats later, the mothers opened their mouths and began to sing. They looked as if they were having great fun as they stepped back and forth in perfect unison, and sang the lyrics.
Hannah had all she could do not to cover her ears. One glance around the table and she realized she was not alone. Norman looked pained, Andrea looked highly embarrassed, and Michelle looked as if she wanted to burst out laughing. As for Hannah, every extremely flat and loudly amplified note that reached her ears made her head throb and her teeth hurt. It had to be the worst rendition of an Everly Brothers song that had ever been performed.
The agony went on through verses too painful to enumerate, but it was met by a wave of raucous applause. When it was over, Hannah breathed a huge sigh of relief and wished she’d ordered that glass of wine. “That was really awful,” she said. “They weren’t in tune at all.”
Norman turned to smile at her. “That’s true, but both of them were equally flat, and that means that they were harmonizing.”
“I thought it was kind of cute,” Michelle said. “They weren’t nervous at all and the audience liked it.”
Hannah had to admit that Michelle had a point. The audience was still applauding, and a guy at the front table was calling for an encore.
“It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be,” Andrea said, and Hannah knew she was trying to be charitable. “At least they looked good.”
Hannah glanced toward the stage again and what she saw made her eyes widen. “Smiles everyone, and remember…we thought their performance was fantastic. They must have spotted us while they were singing, because here come the mothers!”
When the mothers reached their table, Michelle was the first to jump to her feet. “That was amazing, Mother,” she said, giving Delores a little hug. “I’ve never heard anything like it.”
Hannah stifled a chortle. Michelle had come up with a wonderful way of saying something that sounded like a compliment. And since she’d given Delores a hug, she was obviously trying to get back into their mother’s good graces.
“What did you think, dear?” Delores turned to Hannah.
“We all agreed that you and Carrie were in perfect harmony,” Hannah said, stealing Norman’s line.
“And you were in perfect step, too,” Andr
ea said, smiling at the mothers. “That must have taken some practice.”
“Five minutes in the ladies’ room,” Carrie admitted, turning to Norman. “What did you think, son?”
“It was quite a show,” Norman said, giving Carrie a kiss on the cheek. “All these years, and I never knew you could sing like that.”
Five minutes later, they were seated at a blue plastic booth in The Yum-Yum coffee shop, sipping mugs of coffee. Since the mothers needed caffeinated fortification for the trip back to Lake Eden and it was far too noisy to talk inside The Moosehead anyway, they’d all met at the small restaurant at the end of the block. Some last-minute arrangements had been made. Michelle would be driving Delores and Carrie home and staying the night with Delores. They’d only had two drinks at The Moosehead, but Michelle had offered and Delores and Carrie had accepted. Hannah was glad. It was a sign that forgiveness was right around the corner for Michelle’s untimely age-related remarks.
“Before I forget,” Delores said, turning to Hannah, “we found out why Ronni quit her job.”
“Except that she didn’t really quit,” Carrie added. “She was fired for skimming.”
Delores nodded. “She totaled her customers’ bar tabs early, took their credit cards, and rang them up. And then, when they wanted another round of drinks, she asked them to pay in cash and she slipped it in her apron with her tips.”
“How did she get caught?” Hannah asked.
“The bartender spotted her, the same bartender who was on tonight. The owner was giving him grief about coming up short. He knew he wasn’t giving away free drinks, so he kept an eye on the cocktail waitresses and caught Ronni in the act.”
“Ronni begged him not to turn her in,” Carrie took over the story. “She told him she needed more money so that she could quit her job at Heavenly Bodies. She said she was being stalked by someone when she was at work.”
