by Joanne Fluke
The stainless-steel coffee urn gleamed brightly and Hannah smiled as she filled it with water and measured out the coffee. Lisa had scoured it yesterday, restoring it to its former splendor. Lisa was a pure godsend when it came to running the bakery and the coffee shop. She saw what needed to be done, did it without being asked, and had even come up with a few cookie recipes of her own to add to Hannah’s files. It was a real pity that Lisa hadn’t used her academic scholarship to go on to college, but her father, Jack Herman, was suffering from Alzheimer’s and Lisa had decided to stay home to take care of him.
Hannah removed three eggs from the refrigerator behind the counter and dropped them, shells and all, into the bowl with the coffee grounds. Then she broke them open with a heavy spoon and added a dash of salt. Once she’d mixed up the eggs and shells with the coffee grounds, Hannah scraped the contents of the bowl into the basket and flipped on the switch to start the coffee.
A few minutes later, the coffee began to perk and Hannah sniffed the air appreciatively. Nothing smelled better than freshly brewed coffee, and everyone in Lake Eden said that her coffee was the best. Hannah tied on the pretty chintz apron she wore for serving her customers and ducked back through the swinging door to give Lisa her instructions.
“Bake the Chocolate Chip Crunches first, Lisa.” Hannah gave Lisa a welcoming smile.
“They’re already in the ovens, Hannah.” Lisa looked up from the stainless-steel work surface, where she was scooping out dough with a melon-baller and placing the perfectly round spheres into a small bowl filled with sugar. She was only nineteen, ten years younger than Hannah was, and her petite form was completely swaddled in the huge white baker’s apron she wore. “I’m working on the Molasses Crackles for the Boy Scout Awards Banquet now.”
Hannah had originally hired Lisa as a waitress, but it hadn’t taken her long to see that Lisa was capable of much more than pouring coffee and serving cookies. At the end of the first week, Hannah had increased Lisa’s hours from part-time to full-time and taught her to bake. Now they handled the business together, as a team.
“How’s your father today?” Hannah’s voice held a sympathetic note.
“Today’s a good day.” Lisa placed the unbaked tray of Molasses Crackles on the baker’s rack. “Mr. Drevlow is taking him to the Seniors’ Group at Holy Redeemer Lutheran.”
“But I thought your family was Catholic.”
“We are, but Dad doesn’t remember that. Besides, I don’t see how having lunch with the Lutherans could possibly hurt.”
“Neither do I. And it’s good for him to get out and socialize with his friends.”
“That’s exactly what I told Father Coultas. If God gave Dad Alzheimer’s, He’s got to understand when Dad forgets what church he belongs to.” Lisa walked to the oven, switched off the timer, and pulled out a tray of Chocolate Chip Crunches. “I’ll bring these in as soon as they’re cool.”
“Thanks.” Hannah went back through the swinging door again and unlocked the street door to the coffee shop. She flipped the “Closed” sign in the window to “Open,” and checked the cash register to make sure there was plenty of change. She’d just finished setting out small baskets of sugar packets and artificial sweeteners when a late-model dark green Volvo pulled up in the spot by the front door.
Hannah frowned as the driver’s door opened and her middle sister, Andrea, slid out of the driver’s seat. Andrea looked perfectly gorgeous in a green tweed jacket with politically correct fake fur around the collar. Her blond hair was swept up in a shining knot on the top of her head and she could have stepped from the pages of a glamour magazine. Even though Hannah’s friends insisted that she was pretty enough, just being in the same town with Andrea always made Hannah feel hopelessly frumpy and unsophisticated.
Andrea had married Bill Todd, a Winnetka County deputy sheriff, right after she’d graduated from high school. They had one daughter, Tracey, who had turned four last month. Bill was a good father on his hours away from the sheriff’s station, but Andrea had never been cut out to be a stay-at-home mom. When Tracey was only six months old, Andrea had decided that they’d needed two incomes and she’d gone to work as an agent at Lake Eden Realty.
The bell on the door tinkled and Andrea blew in with a chill blast of autumn wind, hauling Tracey behind her by the hand. “Thank God you’re here, Hannah! I’ve got a property to show and I’m late for my appointment at the Cut ’n Curl.”
“It’s only eight, Andrea.” Hannah boosted Tracey up onto a stool at the counter and went to the refrigerator to get her a glass of milk. “Bertie doesn’t open until nine.”
“I know, but she said she’d come in early for me. I’m showing the old Peterson farm this morning. If I sell it, I can order new carpeting for the master bedroom.”
“The Peterson farm?” Hannah turned to stare at her sister in shock. “Who’d want to buy that old wreck?”
“It’s not a wreck, Hannah. It’s a fixer-upper. And my buyer, Mr. Harris, has the funds to make it into a real showplace.”
“But why?” Hannah was honestly puzzled. The Peterson place had been vacant for twenty years. She’d ridden her bicycle out there as a child and it was just an old two-story farmhouse on several acres of overgrown farmland that adjoined the Cozy Cow Dairy. “Your buyer must be crazy if he wants it. The land’s practically worthless. Old man Peterson tried to farm it for years and the only things he could grow were rocks.”
Andrea straightened the collar of her jacket. “The client knows that, Hannah, and he doesn’t care. He’s only interested in the farmhouse. It’s still structurally sound and it has a nice view of the lake.”
“It’s sitting smack-dab in the middle of a hollow, Andrea. You can only see the lake from the top of the roof. What does your buyer plan to do, climb up on a ladder every time he wants to enjoy the view?”
“Not exactly, but it amounts to the same thing. He told me that he’s going to put on a third story and convert the property to a hobby farm.”
“A hobby farm?”
“That’s a second home in the country for city people who want to be farmers without doing any of the work. He’ll hire a local farmer to take care of his animals and keep up the land.”
“I see,” Hannah said, holding back a grin. By her own definition, Andrea was a hobby wife and a hobby mother. Her sister hired a local woman to come in to clean and cook the meals, and she paid baby-sitters and day-care workers to take care of Tracey.
“You’ll watch Tracey for me, won’t you, Hannah?” Andrea looked anxious. “I know she’s a bother, but it’s only for an hour. Kiddie Korner opens at nine.”
Hannah thought about giving her sister a piece of her mind. She was running a business and her shop wasn’t a day-care center. But one glance at Tracey’s hopeful face changed her mind. “Go ahead, Andrea. Tracey can work for me until it’s time for her to go to preschool.”
“Thanks, Hannah.” Andrea turned and started toward the door. “I knew I could count on you.”
“Can I really work, Aunt Hannah?” Tracey asked in her soft little voice, and Hannah gave her a reassuring smile.
“Yes, you can. I need someone to be my official taster. Lisa just baked a batch of Chocolate Chip Crunches and I need to know if they’re good enough to serve to my customers.”
“Did you say chocolate?” Andrea turned back at the door to frown at Hannah. “Tracey can’t have chocolate. It makes her hyperactive.”
Hannah nodded, but she gave Tracey a conspiratorial wink. “I’ll remember that, Andrea.”
“I’ll see you later, Tracey,” Andrea said and blew her daughter a kiss. “Don’t be any trouble for your aunt Hannah, okay?”
Tracey waited until the door had closed behind her mother and then she turned to Hannah. “What’s hyperactive, Aunt Hannah?”
“It’s another word for what kids do when they’re having fun.” Hannah came out from behind the counter and lifted Tracey off the stool. “Come on, honey. Let’s go in the b
ack and see if those Chocolate Chip Crunches are cool enough for you to sample.”
Lisa was just slipping another tray of cookies into the oven when Hannah and Tracey came in. She gave Tracey a hug, handed her a cookie from the tray that was cooling on the rack, and turned to Hannah with a frown. “Ron hasn’t come in yet. Do you suppose he’s out sick?”
“Not unless it came on suddenly.” Hannah glanced at the clock on the wall. It was eight-fifteen and Ron was almost forty-five minutes late. “I saw him two hours ago when I drove past the dairy, and he looked just fine to me.”
“I saw him, too, Aunt Hannah.” Tracey tugged on Hannah’s arm.
“You did? When was that, Tracey?”
“The cow truck went by when I was waiting outside the realty office. Mr. LaSalle waved at me and he gave me a funny smile. And then Andrea came out with her papers and we came to see you.”
“Andrea?” Hannah looked down at her niece in surprise.
“She doesn’t like me to call her Mommy anymore because it’s a label and she hates labels,” Tracey did her best to explain. “I’m supposed to call her Andrea, just like everybody else.”
Hannah sighed. Perhaps it was time to have a talk with her sister about the responsibilities of motherhood. “Are you sure you saw the Cozy Cow truck, Tracey?”
“Yes, Aunt Hannah.” Tracey’s blond head bobbed up and down confidently. “It turned at your corner and went into the alley. And then I heard it make a loud bang, just like Daddy’s car. I knew it came from the cow truck because there weren’t any other cars.”
Hannah knew exactly what Tracey meant. Bill’s old Ford was on its last legs and it backfired every time he eased up on the gas. “Ron’s probably out there tinkering with his truck. I’ll go and see.”
“Can I come with, Aunt Hannah?”
“Stay with me, Tracey,” Lisa spoke up before Hannah could answer. “You can help me listen for the bell and wait on any customers that come into the coffee shop.”
Tracey looked pleased. “Can I bring them their cookies, Lisa? Just like a real waitress?”
“Absolutely, but it’s got to be our secret. We wouldn’t want your dad to bust us for violating the child-labor laws.”
“What does ‘bust’ mean, Lisa? And why would my daddy do it?”
Hannah grinned as she slipped into her jacket and listened to Lisa’s explanation. Tracey questioned everything, and it drove Andrea to distraction. Hannah had attempted to tell her sister that an inquiring mind was a sign of intelligence, but Andrea just didn’t have the necessary patience to deal with her bright four-year-old.
As Hannah pulled open the door and stepped out, she was greeted by a strong gust of wind that nearly threw her off balance. She pushed the door shut behind her, shielded her eyes from the blowing wind, and walked forward to peer down the alley. Ron’s delivery truck was parked sideways near the mouth of the alley, blocking the access in both directions. The driver’s door was partially open and Ron’s legs were dangling out.
Hannah moved forward, assuming that Ron was stretched out on the seat to work on the wiring that ran under the dash. She didn’t want to startle him and cause him to bump his head, so she stopped several feet from the truck and called out. “Hi, Ron. Do you want me to phone for a tow truck?”
Ron didn’t answer. The wind was whistling down the alley, rattling the lids on the metal Dumpsters, and perhaps he hadn’t heard her. Hannah walked closer, called out again, and moved around the door to glance inside the truck.
The sight that greeted Hannah made her jump back and swallow hard. Ron LaSalle, Lake Eden’s local football hero, was lying faceup on the seat of his delivery truck. His white hat was on the floorboards, the orders on his clipboard were rattling in the wind, and one of Hannah’s cookie bags was open on the seat. Chocolate Chip Crunches were scattered everywhere, and Hannah’s eyes widened as she realized that he was still holding one of her cookies in his hand.
Then Hannah’s eyes moved up and she saw it: the ugly hole, ringed with powder burns in the very center of Ron’s Cozy Cow delivery shirt. Ron LaSalle had been shot dead.
Chapter Two
It wasn’t the way that Hannah preferred to attract new clientele, but she had to admit that finding Ron’s body had been good for business. The Cookie Jar was jam-packed with customers. Some of them were even standing while they munched their cookies, and every one of them wanted her opinion on what had happened to Ron LaSalle.
Hannah looked up as the bell tinkled and Andrea came in. She looked mad enough to kill and Hannah sighed.
“We have to talk!” Andrea slipped around the counter and grabbed her arm. “Now, Hannah!”
“I can’t talk to you now, Andrea. I have customers.”
“‘Ghouls’ is more like it!” Andrea spoke in an undertone, surveying the crowd that was eyeing them curiously. She gave a tight little smile, a mere turning up of her lips that wouldn’t have fooled anyone with its sincerity, and her grip tightened on Hannah’s arm. “Call Lisa to handle the counter and take a break. It’s important, Hannah!”
Hannah nodded. Andrea looked terribly upset. “Okay. Go tell Lisa to come up here and I’ll join you back in the bakery.”
The switch was accomplished quickly, and once she’d slipped back to the bakery, Hannah found her sister perched on a stool at the work island in the center of the room. Andrea was staring at the ovens as if she’d just encountered a hibernating grizzly, and Hannah was alarmed. “Is there something wrong with the ovens?”
“Not exactly. Lisa said that the timer’s about to go off and the cookies have to come out. You know I don’t bake, Hannah.”
“I’ll do it.” Hannah grinned as she handed her sister an individual carton of orange juice. Her sister would be more at home in a foreign country than she was in a kitchen. Andrea’s culinary efforts were always disasters. Until she’d gone back to work and hired someone to come in to cook the meals, the Todd family had eaten nothing but microwave dinners.
Hannah grabbed a pair of oven mitts and removed the trays from the ovens. She replaced them with the unbaked Oatmeal Raisin Crisps that Lisa had prepared and then she pulled up a second stool and joined her sister at the work island. “What’s wrong, Andrea?”
“It’s Tracey. Janice Cox just paged me from Kiddie Korner. She said Tracey’s telling all of her classmates that she saw Ron’s body.”
“That’s true—she did.”
“How could you, Hannah?” Andrea looked positively betrayed. “Tracey’s impressionable, just like me. It’s liable to scar her psyche for life!”
Hannah reached out and opened the carton of orange juice, slipping the little plastic straw inside. “Take a sip, Andrea. You look faint. And try to relax.”
“How can I relax when you exposed my daughter to a murder victim?”
“I didn’t expose her. Bill did. And all Tracey saw was the body bag. They were loading it into the coroner’s van when he took her over to the preschool.”
“Then she didn’t actually see Ron.”
“Not unless she has X-ray vision. You can ask Bill about it. He’s still out in the alley securing the crime scene.”
“I’ll talk to him later.” Andrea took a sip of her orange juice and a little color came back into her cheeks. “I’m sorry, Hannah. I should have known that you wouldn’t do anything to hurt Tracey. Sometimes I think that you’re a better mother to her than I am.”
Hannah bit her tongue. This wasn’t the time to give Andrea a lecture about how to raise her daughter. “Tracey loves you, Andrea.”
“I know, but motherhood doesn’t come naturally to me. That’s why I hired the best baby-sitters I could find and went to work. I thought that if I had a real career, it would make Bill and Tracey proud of me, but it’s just not working out the way I hoped it would.”
Hannah nodded, recognizing the real reason behind her sister’s unusual candor. “Your sale fell through?”
“Yes. He decided the property wasn’t right for him.
And when I offered to show him some of my other listings, he wouldn’t even look. I really wanted that carpet, Hannah. It was gorgeous and it would have given my bedroom a whole new look.”
“Next time, Andrea.” Hannah gave her an encouraging smile. “You’re a good salesman.”
“Not good enough to convince Mr. Harris. I can usually spot a Looky-Lou a mile off, but I’m beginning to think that he was never serious about buying the old Peterson place.”
Hannah got up to hand her a Chocolate Chip Crunch that was still slightly warm from the oven. Andrea had always loved Chocolate Chip Crunches and Hannah made a mental note to remind Bill not to mention that Ron had been eating them right before he died. “Eat this, Andrea. You’ll feel better with a little chocolate in your system.”
“Maybe.” Andrea took a bite of the cookie and gave a small smile. “I just love these cookies, Hannah. Do you remember the first time you made them for me?”
“I remember,” Hannah answered with a smile. It had been a rainy day in September and Andrea had stayed after school for cheerleading tryouts. Since there’d never been a freshman cheerleader on the varsity squad, Hannah hadn’t held out much hope that Andrea would make it. So Hannah had rushed home from school to make chocolate chip oatmeal cookies for her sister, hoping to take the sting out of Andrea’s disappointment, but she hadn’t checked to make sure she had all the ingredients before she’d started to mix up the dough. The oatmeal canister had been empty and Hannah had crushed up some Corn Flakes as a substitute. The resulting cookies had been wonderful, Andrea had made the cheerleading squad, and she’d raved about Hannah’s Chocolate Chip Crunches ever since.
