Chocolate Chip Cookie Murder

by Joanne Fluke

  There was a long pause and then Norman sighed. “I’m sorry, Hannah, but I can’t tell you that. All information regarding a patient’s visit is confidential.”

  “Then Ron was your patient?”

  Hannah heard a distinct gulp on the other end of the line. “I didn’t say that!”

  “Of course you didn’t.”

  “Then why did you assume that he was?”

  Hannah smiled, very pleased with herself. Perhaps she’d actually learned something in that required logic course she’d taken. “If Ron wasn’t your patient, you could tell me he wasn’t. There’s no breach of ethics in that. But you said that you couldn’t tell me and that means he was.”

  There was another beat of silence and then Norman chuckled. “You’re quick, Hannah. And you’re right. I guess it can’t do any harm to tell you now. Ron was my first appointment of the morning. He came in presenting considerable pain from a fissured molar.”

  “A cracked tooth?”

  “Yes, in layman’s terms. I’m sorry, Hannah. I’ve got a patient in the chair and I can’t talk now. Just hang on and let me check my schedule.”

  Hannah waited, shifting from foot to foot. This was important. Norman might have been the last person to talk to Ron.

  “Hannah?” Norman came back on the line. “I’m booked solid this morning, but I don’t have anyone scheduled for one. If you come in then, I’ll tell you all about it.”

  “You want me to come in?”

  “I think it would be best, don’t you? We really shouldn’t talk about something this sensitive on the phone. I’ll pick up salads and sandwiches at the cafe and we’ll have lunch while we talk. I have something very important to ask you.”

  Hannah made a face. The last thing she wanted to do was have lunch with Norman, but if she wanted to help Bill solve Ron’s murder, she had to gather all the facts. And the one person left alive who could tell her what had happened during Ron’s dental appointment was the dentist himself.

  “All right, Norman,” Hannah caved in to the inevitable with all the good grace she could muster. “I’ll see you at one.”

  Regency Ginger Crisps

  Do not preheat oven yet—dough must chill before baking.

  ¾ cup melted butter (1½ sticks)

  1 cup brown sugar

  1 large beaten egg (or two medium, just whip them up with a fork)

  4 tablespoons molasses (that’s ¼ cup) ***

  2 teaspoons baking soda

  ½ teaspoon salt

  2 teaspoons ground ginger

  2¼ cups flour (not sifted)

  ½ cup white sugar in a small bowl (for later)

  Melt butter and mix in sugar. Let mixture cool and then add egg(s). Add soda, molasses, salt, and ginger. Stir it thoroughly. Add flour and mix in. Chill the dough for at least 1 hour. (Overnight is even better.)

  When the dough has chilled, preheat oven to 375 degrees F., rack in the middle position.

  Roll dough into walnut-sized balls with your hands. Roll the dough balls in white sugar. (Just dump them in the bowl with the sugar and shake the bowl gently to coat them.) Place them on greased cookie sheets, 12 to a standard sheet. Flatten them with a spatula.

  Bake at 375 degrees F. for 10 to 12 minutes or until nicely browned. Cool on cookie sheets for no more than l minute, and then remove to wire rack to finish cooling. (If you leave these on the cookie sheets for too long, they’ll stick.)

  Served these at Mother’s Regency Romance Club. They asked me for something from the Regency Period. Why not?

  (Tracey loves these as a bedtime snack with a glass of milk.)

  Yield: 6 to 7 dozen, depending on cookie size.

  Chapter Nine

  Her shop was every bit as crowded as yesterday, and Hannah was relieved when the predictable eleven o’clock lull arrived. It was the time of day when Lake Eden residents decided that it was too late for a breakfast cookie and too early for a lunch cookie. The break gave Hannah time to gather her wits and continue her unofficial, but deputy-sanctioned, investigation. She put on a fresh pot of coffee, wiped down the counter until it was sparkling, and went through the swinging door to the bakery to talk to Lisa.

  Lisa had just taken the last pan of cookies from the oven and she greeted Hannah with a smile. “I’m finished with the baking, Hannah. And your plant’s going to make it. Its roots just needed to be soaked.”

  “Thanks, Lisa.” Belatedly Hannah remembered the instructions her mother had given her with the plant. African violets needed to be watered from the bottom and not from the top. She walked over to glance at the plant and saw that it looked much perkier. “I think it needs a new caregiver. Take it home with you, Lisa.”

  Lisa smiled, clearly delighted with the offer. “It’s a hybrid called ‘Verona’s Delight,’ and it’ll be just gorgeous when it blooms. Are you really sure that you don’t want it?”

  “I’m positive. It’ll be a lot happier with you. Can you hold down the fort for me while I run next door to talk to Claire?”

  “Sure.” Lisa whisked off her baker’s apron and tied on the fancy one she wore when she handled the counter. “Go ahead, Hannah.”

  Hannah stepped out the back door and immediately shivered. The temperature had dropped at least ten degrees and the clouds were gray and ominous-looking. The radio weatherman had promised clear skies, but she’d been listening to a Minneapolis station and that was fifty miles away.

  Claire’s Toyota was in her parking spot and Hannah walked over to knock on the back door of Beau Monde Fashions. Claire didn’t open until noon on Thursdays, but she was obviously here.

  “Hello, Hannah,” Claire greeted her with a smile. “Come in and I’ll show you that darling dress. I had to pull it off the rack yesterday. Lydia Gradin asked to try it, but it wouldn’t have been right for her. And Kate Maschler had her eye on it, too.”

  Hannah felt immediately guilty. Because of her, Claire had lost a potential sale. “You should have let one of them buy it, Claire. I haven’t even tried it on.”

  “But you will. And it’ll be absolutely perfect. Come in, Hannah. I’ll show you.”

  Hannah sighed and stepped into Claire’s tiny back room. There was an ironing board set up in a corner next to a stack of dress boxes ready to be assembled. The air smelled hot. Claire had obviously been pressing out the wrinkles in her new shipment, and Hannah followed her past racks of newly arrived clothing and stepped around the sewing machine that was set up for alterations. She was frowning as she stepped through the gap in the curtain that separated the back room from the dress shop. She knew she’d have to try on the dress that Claire had chosen for her. It would be rude to refuse.

  “Here it is!” Claire opened the closet that held her most expensive dresses and removed a hanger that held a black silk cocktail dress. “Isn’t it just darling?”

  Hannah nodded. What else could she do? It looked like an ordinary dress to her, but she knew next to nothing about fashion, and Claire was the expert.

  “Go right in and try it on.” Claire led the way to one of her little dressing rooms. “Would you like me to help you?”

  “No, thanks. I can manage.” Hannah walked into Claire’s posh little dressing room and shut the door. “Are you out there, Claire?”

  “I’m here,” Claire’s voice floated in through the open transom. “Do you need me to zip you up?”

  “No, I’m fine. I just wondered if you saw anyone in the alley yesterday morning.”

  “Just you, Hannah. Bill already asked and I told him the same thing.”

  “How about later?” Hannah unzipped her jeans and let them slip down into a denim pile around her ankles.

  “I didn’t go out again until I heard all the commotion.”

  Hannah kicked her jeans over to a spot near to the mirror and pulled off her sweatshirt. “Are you sure? You said you were unpacking a new shipment. Didn’t you go out to throw any packing materials in the Dumpster?”

  “I don’t think…Yes, I did!�
�� Claire sounded surprised. “You’re right, Hannah. I broke down some cartons and carried them out. And there was someone in the alley. A homeless man was huddled up in the thrift shop doorway, waiting for it to open.”

  “Do you have any idea what time that was?” Hannah asked as she removed the black dress from the hanger.

  “I think it was about a quarter to eight. When I got back inside, I pressed a dress and then Becky Summers called to ask if the alterations were finished on her new pantsuit. I glanced at my watch and I remember thinking that only Becky would have the nerve to call me a full two hours before I opened, so it must have been eight.”

  “What did this homeless man look like?”

  “I’m sure you’ve seen him around town, Hannah. He’s tall and his hair sticks up in spikes. It’s this awful red….” Claire paused and she sounded embarrassed when she spoke again. “It’s not like your hair, Hannah. Yours is a lovely auburn color. This man’s hair is so red, it’s almost orange, like a clown.”

  Hannah added that tidbit to her memory banks as she lifted the dress over her head and stuck her arms through the sleeves. She wiggled, the silk slipped down with a slither, and she reached behind her to pull up the zipper by its little tab. The dress fit her perfectly. Claire had a good eye for size.

  “Does it fit you, Hannah?” Claire’s voice floated in again.

  “Like a glove.” Hannah took a deep breath and glanced in the mirror. The stranger that stared back at her looked shocked. Not only did the dress fit—it was stunning on her. And Hannah had never looked stunning before in her life.

  “Do you like it?”

  It took Hannah a moment to find her voice. “It’s…uh…it’s great.”

  “Come out and let me see if I need to do any alterations.”

  “You don’t.” Hannah kicked off her favorite old Nikes. They didn’t exactly go with her new image. And then she opened the door and walked out.

  Claire’s mouth dropped open when she saw her. “I knew it would be perfect for you, but I had no idea it would turn you into a femme fatale. You have to take it, Hannah. I’ll give you a huge discount. This dress was made for you.”

  “I think you’re right.” There was wonder in Hannah’s voice as Claire led her over to the three-way mirror and she studied her reflection. She looked sophisticated, gorgeous, and utterly feminine.

  “You want it, don’t you, Hannah?”

  Hannah turned to the mirror again. If she squinted, the woman who stared back at her looked a little like Katharine Hepburn. Her first instinct was to tell Claire to wrap up the dress, that price was no object, but reality intruded. Price was an object and she knew it. “Of course I want it, but I don’t know if I can afford it. How much does it cost?”

  “Forget what I said about the discount. I’ll give it to you at my cost. Just promise that you won’t tell anyone what you paid.”

  “Okay,” Hannah promised. “How much is it?”

  “It retails for one-eighty, but you can have it for ninety.”

  Hannah didn’t hesitate. A dress like this came along only once in a lifetime. “Sold. I’ll never have a chance to wear it and it’ll probably hang in my closet for the rest of my life, but you’re right. I’ve got to have it.”

  “Good girl!” Claire looked very pleased. “But what do you mean, you won’t have a chance to wear it? The Woodleys’ annual party is tomorrow night.”

  Hannah blinked. She’d stuck her invitation in a drawer and forgotten all about it. “Do you think that I should wear this dress?”

  “I’ll tell everyone that your cookies are lousy if you don’t,” Claire threatened. “You’re going to knock them dead tomorrow night, Hannah. And on Saturday morning, your phone’s going to be ringing off the hook.”

  Hannah laughed. Perhaps Claire was psychic and her phone would ring off the hook. But ninety-nine percent of those calls would be from Delores, trying to find out which man she’d been trying to impress.

  Hannah stashed the dress box in her Suburban and walked back into the bakery with a bemused expression on her face. She’d certainly spent a lot of money helping Bill investigate Ron’s murder. She’d dropped fifty dollars with Luanne for the cosmetics and she’d spent ninety with Claire for the dress.

  As she passed the work island, the phone on the wall started to ring. Hannah called out to tell Lisa that she’d get it and picked up the receiver. “The Cookie Jar. This is Hannah.”

  “Hi, Hannah.” It was Bill and he sounded discouraged. “I’m just checking in with you. I’m out here at the dairy doing interviews.”

  “Did you learn anything new?”

  “Not a thing. Everyone else came in at seven-thirty and Ron had already loaded up and left by then.”

  “How about Max Turner? Did you speak to him yet?”

  “No. Hold on a second, Hannah.” There was a lengthy pause and then Bill came back on the line. “Betty still expects him to call in today. I told her to get a number and I’d call him back to tell him about Ron. How about you? Do you have anything for me?”

  “Yes, and it could be important. I talked to Claire Rodgers and she remembered that she saw a homeless man in the alley about seven forty-five. He was huddled in the thrift shop doorway and she gave me a description.”

  “Let me get out my notebook.” There was another pause and then Bill spoke again. “Okay. Give it to me.”

  “He was wearing baggy clothes and he had bright red hair sticking up in spikes. Claire said she’d seen him around town before.”

  “Good work, Hannah.” Bill sounded pleased. “I’ll run over to the soup kitchen at the Bible Church and see if they know who he is. And I’ll check with the thrift shop. They might have let him in. Anything else?”

  “Maybe, but I’m not sure. Ron went to the dentist for that cracked tooth I told you about, and that was why he was running late. I’ll get back to you the minute I know more.”

  Hannah hung up the phone and then she picked it up again to punch out her mother’s number. She couldn’t put Delores off forever. As she listened to the empty ringing, she began to smile. Her mother was out and she left a brief message. “Hi, it’s Hannah. I’m just returning your call. Guess you must be out. I’ll see you later at the Regency Romance Club meeting.”

  Hannah had just hung up when Lisa stuck her head around the side of the swinging door. “Your sister’s here, Hannah.”

  “Send her back here with two mugs of coffee,” Hannah instructed, walking to the counter to pile a half-dozen White Chocolate Supremes on a plate. There weren’t many left and she suspected that Lisa’s new recipe had been a success. Then she sat down on a stool and wondered what new crisis had brought Andrea to The Cookie Jar for the second day in a row.

  “Hi, Hannah,” Andrea greeted her. “Here’s your coffee.” She plunked down the two mugs of coffee, saw the cookies, and grabbed one before she even sat down. “These new cookies are heavenly. Everybody’s raving about them and they’re all sold out up front. Lisa gave me the last one while I was waiting for you.”

  Hannah smiled. “I’m really glad they went over so well. Lisa worked a long time on the recipe.”

  “They’re Lisa’s?” Andrea looked surprised. “That’s funny. She didn’t say a word about it to me.”

  “She wouldn’t. Lisa’s still a little shy about her baking.”

  “Well, she doesn’t have to be. These are winners.” Andrea reached for another cookie.

  “What brings you in, Andrea?” Hannah mentally prepared herself for another sibling crisis. “I just got off the phone with Bill and he sounded fine. Tracey’s okay, isn’t she?”

  “Tracey’s fine. Everything’s fine. I don’t have another showing until three and I just dropped in to say hello.”

  Hannah raised her eyebrows. Andrea never just dropped in. “I’m busy tonight, but I can be home by eight-thirty. Is that too late to drop Tracey off?”

  “Why would I want to drop Tracey off?” Andrea looked confused. “What are you tal
king about, Hannah?”

  “You don’t need a sitter tonight?”

  “No.” A dull flush rose to Andrea’s cheeks. “I’ve really been taking advantage of you, haven’t I?”

  “Of course not.” Hannah shook her head. “I enjoy spending time with Tracey. She’s a great kid.”

  “I know, but when I came in, you just assumed that I needed something. I’m not a very good sister, Hannah. I take and I take, but I never give back.”

  Hannah was uncomfortable. This was getting altogether too serious to suit her. “Oh yeah? You urged me to open The Cookie Jar. I’d call that giving back in spades.”

  “You’re right. I did suggest it.” Andrea looked pleased for a moment. “But I really should do more for you, Hannah. You help me out all the time and I never know how to return the favor. If you’d just ask me for something, I’d do it.”

  Suddenly Hannah had a brilliant thought. “That’s about to change. If you really want to do something for me, you can come along with me to the dentist. My appointment’s at one.”

  “Of course I’ll come, but I didn’t know you were afraid to go to the dentist.”

  “Believe me, I am,” Hannah said with a grin, “especially when the dentist is Norman Rhodes.”

  Andrea’s mouth dropped open. “But Mother said she tried to set you up with him! Why are you letting him work on your teeth?”

  “I’m not. Right before Ron was killed, he had an appointment with Norman. I called him this morning and he confirmed that he’d seen Ron, but he refused to discuss it on the phone. He said he’d tell me all about it if I met him for lunch at his office.”