Chocolate Chip Cookie Murder

by Joanne Fluke

  “I guess there was no real way of knowing that he was just window-shopping.” Andrea took another bite of her cookie and sighed. “He seemed like a real buyer. Even Al Percy thought so. I mean, we didn’t even have to solicit him. He came to us!”

  Hannah realized that it might be good for Andrea to talk about her disappointment. “How long ago was that?”

  “Three weeks ago on Tuesday. He said he really liked the house, that it had a sense of history about it. I took him inside and he was even more impressed.”

  “But you couldn’t get him to make an offer?”

  “No, he said he needed to work out some details first. I figured that it was just an excuse and I wrote him off. Sometimes people don’t like to say no and they give you some sort of lame excuse. I really didn’t think I’d hear from him again, but he called me last week and said he was still interested.”

  Hannah decided that some sisterly comfort was in order. “Maybe he really wanted to buy, but he couldn’t afford it.”

  “I don’t think so. He told me that money wasn’t the problem, that he’d just decided it wouldn’t suit him. And then he got into his rental car and drove away.”

  “He was driving a rental?”

  “Yes, he said he didn’t want to damage his Jaguar by driving it over gravel roads. For all I know, he doesn’t even have a Jaguar. If I ever see a man in a rug again, I’m not going to believe a single word he says! A man who lies about having hair will lie about anything.”

  Hannah laughed and went to take the Oatmeal Raisin Chews out of the ovens. When she turned, her sister was standing up to go.

  “I’ve got to run,” Andrea announced. “Mother told me that Mrs. Robbins is thinking about moving to the Lakeview Senior Apartments. I thought I’d drop in for a visit and see if I can convince her to list her house with me.”

  Hannah immediately felt better. Andrea seemed to have recovered her self-confidence.

  “I’ll just say hello to Bill and see if he can pick Tracey up after preschool. And I suppose I’d better find something to take to Mrs. Robbins. It’s not very neighborly to arrive empty-handed.”

  “Take these. They’re her favorites.” Hannah filled one of her special cookie bags with a half-dozen Molasses Crackles. The bags looked like miniature shopping bags and they had red handles with “The Cookie Jar” stamped in gold lettering on the front.

  “This is really sweet of you.” Andrea sounded grateful. “I don’t say it enough, but you’re a wonderful sister. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t come back when Dad died. Mother was a basket case and Michelle didn’t know what to do with her. I tried to run back and forth, but Tracey was just a baby and I just couldn’t keep it up. All I could think of was calling you and begging you to come home to bail us all out.”

  Hannah gave Andrea a quick hug. “You did the right thing. I’m the big sister and you were practically a newlywed. It was my responsibility to help.”

  “But sometimes I feel really guilty about calling you. You had your own life and you gave it all up for us.”

  Hannah turned away to hide the sudden moisture that sprang to her eyes. Perhaps losing a sale was good for Andrea. She’d never been this appreciative before. “You don’t have to feel guilty, Andrea. Coming home wasn’t a sacrifice on my part. I was having doubts about teaching and I really wanted to do something different.”

  “But you were so close to getting your doctorate. You could have been a professor by now at a really good university.”

  “Maybe.” Hannah shrugged, conceding the point. “But baking cookies is a lot more fun than giving a lecture on iambic pentameter or being stuck in a deadly dull faculty meeting. And you know how much I love The Cookie Jar.”

  “Then you’re happy here in Lake Eden?”

  “My business is great, I’ve got my own place, and I don’t have to live with Mother. What could be better?”

  Andrea started to smile. “There’s something to that, especially the part about not living with Mother. But what about romance?”

  “Don’t push it, Andrea.” Hannah gave her a warning look. “If the right man comes along, that’s great. And if he doesn’t, that’s fine too. I’m perfectly content to live by myself.”

  “Okay, if you’re sure.” Andrea looked very relieved as she headed for the door.

  “I’m sure. Good luck with Mrs. Robbins.”

  “I’ll need it.” Andrea turned back with a grin. “If she starts bragging about her son, the doctor, I’ll probably throw up.”

  Hannah knew exactly what her sister meant. Mrs. Robbins had come into her cookie shop last week, full of praise about her son, the doctor. According to his mother, Dr. Jerry Robbins was about to discover the cure for multiple sclerosis, cancer, and the common cold all in one fell swoop.

  “I need to ask you some questions, Hannah.” Bill stuck his head into the coffee shop and motioned to her.

  “Sure, Bill.” Hannah handed her apron to Lisa, grabbed two mugs of strong black coffee, and followed him into the back room. On the way, she admired the way his tan uniform shirt fit smoothly over his broad shoulders. Bill had been a football player in high school, never as famous as Ron LaSalle, but he’d helped to win his share of games. Now his waist was thicker, the result of too many chocolate-covered doughnuts from the Quick Stop on his commute to the sheriff’s station, but he was still a handsome man.

  “Thanks for the coffee, Hannah.” Bill plunked down on a stool and cupped both hands around his mug of coffee. “It’s getting cold out there.”

  “I can tell. You look positively blue around the gills. Did you find out anything?”

  “Not much. The driver’s window was open. Ron must have stopped his truck and rolled down the window to talk to his killer.”

  Hannah thought about that for a moment. “He wouldn’t have rolled down his window if he thought that he was in any danger.”

  “Probably not,” Bill agreed. “Whoever it was took him completely by surprise.”

  “Do you have any suspects?”

  “Not yet. And unless we can find a witness, the only clue we’ll have is the bullet. It’ll go to ballistics right after the autopsy.”

  Hannah winced at the mention of the autopsy. To take her mind off the fact that Doc Knight would have to cut Ron open, she asked another question. “You don’t have to tell anyone that he was eating one of my cookies when he died, do you? It might put people off, if you know what I mean.”

  “No problem.” Bill looked amused for the first time that morning. “Your cookies had nothing to do with it. Ron was shot.”

  “I wish I’d found him sooner, Bill. I could have called for an ambulance.”

  “That wouldn’t have done any good. It looked like the bullet hit his heart. I won’t know for sure until the doc gets through with him, but I think he died instantly.”

  “That’s good.” Hannah nodded, and then she realized what she’d said. “I mean, that’s not good, but I’m glad it was over quickly.”

  Bill opened his notebook. “I want you to tell me everything that happened this morning, Hannah, even if you don’t think it’s important.”

  “You got it.” Hannah waited until Bill had picked up his pen and then she told him everything, from the time she’d first seen Ron at the dairy to the moment she’d discovered his body. She gave Bill the exact time that she had gone out through the rear door of the bakery, and the time that she’d come back in to call the sheriff’s office.

  “You make a good witness,” Bill complimented her. “Is that all?”

  “I think Tracey may have been the last person to see Ron alive. She said she was waiting for Andrea to pick up some papers at the realty office when Ron drove by in his truck. She waved at him, he waved back, and then she watched him turn at my corner. That must have been close to eight because Andrea and Tracey came into the coffee shop right after I opened and…” Hannah stopped speaking and began to frown.

  “What is it, Hannah?” Bill picked
up his pen again. “You just thought of something, didn’t you?”

  “Yes. If Tracey saw Ron at eight, he was already twenty-five minutes behind schedule.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Ron was supposed to be here at seven thirty-five. He delivers to the school and then he comes straight here. I’ve been on his route since I opened this place and he’s never been more than a minute late.”

  “And that’s why you went out in the alley to look for his truck?”

  “Not exactly. We thought he’d broken down. Tracey said she heard his truck backfire right after he turned into the…” Hannah stopped in midsentence, her eyes widening in shock. “Tracey heard it, Bill. She thought it was a backfire, but she must have heard the shot that killed Ron!”

  Bill’s lips tightened and Hannah knew what he was thinking. It was terrifying to think that Tracey had come so close to the scene of a murder. “I’d better get out to the dairy and tell Max Turner what’s happened,” he said.

  “Max isn’t there. Ron told me that he was leaving for the Tri-State Buttermakers’ Convention this morning. It’s in Wisconsin and I think it lasts for a week. If I were you, I’d talk to Betty Jackson. She’s Max’s secretary and she’ll know how to reach him.”

  “Good idea.” Bill drained his coffee mug and set it down. “This case is really important to me, Hannah. I passed the detective’s test last week and Sheriff Grant put me in charge.”

  “Then you’ve been promoted?” Hannah started to smile.

  “Not yet. Sheriff Grant has to sign off on it, but I’m pretty sure he will, if I do a good job. This promotion would be good for us. I’d be making more money and Andrea wouldn’t have to work.”

  “That’s wonderful, Bill.” Hannah was genuinely pleased for him.

  “You don’t think it’s wrong to use Ron’s murder as a springboard to my promotion?”

  “Absolutely not.” Hannah shook her head. “Somebody’s got to catch Ron’s killer. If you do it and if you get a promotion, it’s only what you deserve.”

  “You’re not just saying that to make me feel better?”

  “Me? I never say what I don’t mean, not when it’s important. You should know that by now!”

  Bill grinned, relaxing a bit. “You’re right. It’s like Andrea says: Tact isn’t really one of your long suits.”

  “True.” Hannah conceded the point with a smile, but it still stung a little. She thought she’d been very tactful with Andrea over the years. There had been countless occasions when she could have cheerfully strangled her sister, and she hadn’t.

  “There’s one other thing, Hannah.” Bill cleared his throat. “I hate to ask, but people tend to talk to you and you know almost everyone in town. Will you call me if you hear anything you think I should know?”

  “Of course I will.”

  “Thanks. Just keep your eyes and your ears open. If Ron’s killer is local, he’s bound to say or do something to give himself away. We just have to be smart enough to pick up on it.”

  Hannah nodded. Then she noticed that Bill was eyeing the trays of Oatmeal Raisin Crisps with longing and she got up to fill a bag for him. “Don’t eat all these cookies in one sitting, Bill. You’re getting a roll around your waist.”

  After Bill left, Hannah thought about what she’d said. Andrea was right. She had no tact. A tactful person wouldn’t have mentioned the roll around Bill’s waist. It wasn’t her place to criticize Andrea’s husband.

  As she walked back through the swinging door and took her place behind the counter, Hannah realized that she’d committed an even more serious sisterly infraction. She’d just promised to help Bill solve a murder case that might end up putting Andrea right out of a job.

  Chocolate Chip Crunch Cookies

  Preheat oven to 375° F, rack in the middle position.

  1 cup butter (2 sticks, melted)

  1 cup white sugar

  1 cup brown sugar

  2 teaspoons baking soda

  1 teaspoon salt

  2 teaspoons vanilla

  2 beaten eggs (you can beat them up with a fork)

  2½ cups flour (not sifted)

  2 cups crushed corn flakes (just crush them with you hands)

  1 to 2 cup chocolate chips

  Melt butter, add the sugars and stir. Add soda, salt, vanilla, and beaten eggs. Mix well. Then add flour and stir it in. Add crushed corn flakes and chocolate chips and mix it all thoroughly.

  Form dough into walnut-sized balls with your fingers and place on a greased cookie sheet, 12 to a standard sheet. Press them down slightly with a floured or greased spatula.

  Bake at 375 degrees for 8 to 10 minutes. Cool on cookie sheet for 2 minutes, then remove to a wire rack until they’re completely cool. (The rack is important—it makes them crisp.)

  Yield: 6 to 8 dozen, depending on cookie size.

  (These cookies have been Andrea’s favorites since high school.)

  Hannah’s Note: If these cookies spread out too much in the oven, reduce temp. to 350° F. and do not flatten before baking.

  Chapter Three

  “That’s it, Lisa. I’m ready to roll.” Hannah shut the back of her Suburban and walked around to climb into the driver’s seat. “I should be back by four at the latest.”

  Lisa nodded, handing Hannah a container of lemons that had been washed until any germs courageous enough to light on their surface had fled in terror. “Do you want to take some extra sugar in case there’s a run on the lemonade?”

  “I’ll just borrow some from the school kitchen if I need it. Edna doesn’t leave until three-thirty.”

  When Lisa had gone back inside, Hannah backed into the alley and drove off toward Jordan High. It had been named after the first mayor of Lake Eden, Ezekiel Jordan, but she suspected that most of the students believed that their school’s namesake had played pro basketball.

  Jordan High and Washington Elementary were two separate buildings that were connected by a carpeted corridor with double-paned windows that overlooked the school grounds. The two schools shared a common auditorium and cafeteria to cut down on costs, and there was only one principal. The maintenance crew consisted of four people; two took care of the janitorial work and the other two were responsible for the playground, as well as the high school athletic fields.

  The Lake Eden school complex worked well. Since the grade school and the high school were connected, older brothers and sisters were always available to drive a younger sibling home in the event of illness, or to calm a frightened kindergartner who missed Mom and Dad. This arrangement also provided a bonus for Jordan High students. The seniors who planned to become teachers were encouraged to volunteer as classroom aides during their free period. The early on-the-job training had produced several college graduates who’d returned to Lake Eden to accept teaching positions at the school.

  As she turned on Third Street and drove past the city block that had been set aside for family recreation, Hannah realized that there were no preschoolers playing in Lake Eden Park. The chains on the swings were perfectly motionless, the merry-go-round was still laden with the colorful leaves that had fallen during the morning, and though the temperature had topped the predicted high of forty-eight degrees, there were no children on tricycles pedaling along the circular sidewalk around the playground.

  For a moment this struck Hannah as odd. It was the type of weather that a mother of a preschooler prayed for. But then she remembered what had happened this morning and she understood why the park was empty. There was a killer loose in Lake Eden. Concerned parents were keeping their children inside, out of harm’s way.

  There was a long line of cars idling at curbside on Gull Avenue. It stretched for three blocks leading to and from the school complex, blocking access to driveways and fire hydrants in blatant disregard for the city parking statutes. Hannah inched her way past worried-looking parents waiting for the dismissal bell to ring, and as she neared the school, she saw that Herb Beeseman, his patrol car fres
hly washed and waxed, was parked diagonally in front of the entrance. He wasn’t handing out any tickets for the infractions that were occurring right under his nose, and Hannah assumed that he’d placed the safety of Lake Eden’s children at a higher priority than filling the city’s coffers.

  Hannah reached back between the seats and snagged a bag of Molasses Crackles. She always carried several bags of cookies with her for times like these. Then she pulled up beside Herb’s patrol car and rolled down her window. “Hi, Herb. I’m going in to cater the Boy Scout Awards Banquet. Is it okay if I pull into the lot?”

  “Sure, Hannah,” Herb responded, his eyes on the bag of cookies in her hand. “Just make sure you park legally. Are those for me?”

  Hannah handed him the bag. “You’re doing a great job protecting the kids. I’m sure the parents appreciate it.”

  “Thanks.” Herb looked pleased at her compliment. “Does your mother still hate me for that ticket I gave her?”

  “She doesn’t exactly hate you, Herb.” Hannah decided that this wasn’t the time to tell Herb precisely what her mother had called him. “But she’s still a little put out.”

  “I’m sorry I had to do it, Hannah. I like your mother, but I can’t have people speeding through town.”

  “I understand and I think Mother does, too. She’s just not quite willing to admit it yet.” Hannah began to grin. “At least one good thing came out of that ticket.”

  “What’s that?”

  “She stopped trying to fix me up with you.”