Apple Turnover Murder, Key Lime Pie Murder, Cherry Cheesecake Murder, Lemon Meringue Pie Murder

by Joanne Fluke

  “What kind are they?”

  “Walnut-Date Chews.”

  Michelle rolled her eyes heavenward. “I remember those! You used to make them for Dad. They taste almost like date nut bread, right?”

  “Right.”

  “I haven’t had them for so long!” Michelle looked at the bag hungrily. “And dates and nuts are so good for you.”

  “They are?” Hannah asked, tugging a bit on the leash to get Moishe moving forward.

  “They’re both heart healthy. Dates are especially good for your muscle tone, and walnuts prevent cellulite.”

  Hannah’s eyes narrowed. Michelle sounded just a tad too convincing to be believed, and she was a theater arts major. “You just made that up, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, but I love those cookies. And you haven’t made them in ages. Can I please have one, Hannah?”

  “May I. And no, you may not. They’re for Dr. Bob and Sue for letting me bring Moishe in so early.”

  “Not even one? They’re my all-time favorite cookies!”

  “Absolutely not. But when you get home, there’s a bag just like this on the kitchen counter. You’ll find another two dozen in there.”

  Michelle was grinning as Hannah knocked on the back door of the clinic. When she’d called, Sue had answered the phone from the clinic and she’d told Hannah that they always arrived an hour early when they had overnight patients.

  “Hi, Hannah,” Sue said, opening the door. She spotted Michelle standing behind Hannah and gave her a friendly smile. “You looked really wonderful last night in the evening gown competition. Bob and I talked about it on the way home, and we’re so glad you won.”

  “Thanks,” Michelle said, and Hannah noticed that her sister was blushing slightly. There were big differences between the three Swensen sisters. Andrea knew she was beautiful and took compliments in stride, Michelle didn’t realize how gorgeous she was and was still slightly embarrassed when someone complimented her, and Hannah had looked into the mirror enough times to know that if someone said she was beautiful, they probably wanted something from her. Except for their differing hair colors, Andrea and Michelle had inherited the gene for beauty from Delores. All three of them were petite with lovely features and figures that would not be out of place in a string bikini. Hannah had inherited her looks from her father, who had been tall with curly red hair and the tendency to put on more than a few extra pounds around the middle.

  “What’s wrong with Moishe?” Michelle asked, bringing Hannah out of her musing.

  Hannah looked down at the cat and began to frown. Moishe’s fur was bristling, his ears were down flat, and he was making a little growling noise in his throat. “I don’t know. He’s never been like this before.”

  “Is he afraid of Dr. Bob?”

  “No. He doesn’t absolutely love coming here, but he’s always walked right in before.” Hannah gave a little tug on the leash. “Come on, Moishe. Let’s go.”

  But Moishe wasn’t going. He dug in his claws and refused to move, stopping dead at the threshold. No amount of coaxing or tugging would budge him, and Hannah was about to pick him up and carry him bodily into the building when Sue stopped her.

  “Wait a second, Hannah. I think I know what’s wrong. Moishe’s never come in the back way before. Walk him around the building and I’ll let you in the front.”

  “Okay, if you don’t mind. I hate to pick him up when he’s this rattled.”

  Michelle slipped inside with Sue. Hannah was amazed to see that the moment the door closed, Moishe’s fur smoothed down and his ears perked up. The low growl he’d been giving subsided as she walked him around the side of the building. Was it possible Sue was right? This was the way they’d entered in the past when he had a regular appointment, and he didn’t seem to mind it at all.

  “Here we are,” Hannah said, opening the front door the way she always did. And to her surprise, Moishe marched straight in and rubbed up against Sue’s ankles.

  “This is really strange,” Hannah said, puzzled at his behavior.

  Sue shook her head. “Not really. Pets are creatures of habit. They feel safe when their routine stays the same. Coming in the back way was a change in routine, and that made Moishe nervous.” She reached down to pet him, and Moishe started to purr. “Take him right in to examining room one, Hannah. Bob’s waiting for you.”

  Less than fifteen minutes later, Moishe was in the car with Michelle on their way back to the condo, and Hannah was driving to The Cookie Jar. She was somewhat reassured when Dr. Bob hadn’t found anything wrong in his physical examination. All that remained was the lab work.

  Since the patient didn’t speak English and Dr. Bob didn’t speak cat, Hannah had assumed the role of interpreter. Yes, Moishe was eating a bit of food, but much less than usual. And he’d been turning down treats that he loved like tuna, salmon, and fried chicken. No, she hadn’t seen any signs that his stomach was upset. Yes, he was drinking water. Yes, he was using his litter box. And no, she hadn’t switched his food. It was the same brand of kitty crunchies she’d always fed him. Her main concern was his odd behavior. He’d shown very little interest in looking out the windows before, but in the past two days he’d spent hours balancing on windowsills, staring fixedly out at nothing.

  Hannah pulled up in her parking space, right next to Lisa’s old car, and hurried to the back door. But before she could reach for the knob, Lisa opened it.

  “How’s Moishe?” she asked.

  “I don’t know yet. Dr. Bob examined him, and when he couldn’t find anything wrong he took a blood sample.”

  “When do you get the results?”

  “I’m supposed to call in at noon. He said he should have a fax from the lab by then.” Hannah stepped inside and hung her purse on one of the hooks by the back door. She glanced at the baker’s racks and gave a little groan when she saw that Lisa had baked all the cookies without her. “I’m sorry you got stuck with all the baking. I’ll come in early tomorrow and make it up to you.”

  “Don’t be silly. I know you’d do the baking alone if Herb got sick and I had to take him to the doctor.”

  Hannah was about to tell her that it wasn’t the same thing, but she reconsidered. Perhaps it was.

  “You look beat, Hannah. Sit down and I’ll get you a cup of coffee.”

  “Thanks,” Hannah said, sinking down on a stool at the work island. She’d polished off a whole pot of coffee with Michelle, but she’d only gotten four hours of sleep and she could use a little more caffeine.

  “Here you go.” Lisa placed a mug of coffee in front of her. “Do you know what Herb calls it?”

  “Coffee?”

  “No,” Lisa replied with a giggle. “I called it Swedish Plasma this morning, the way you always do, and he said we should call it Vitamin V.”

  Hannah sifted through the possibilities in record time, but she couldn’t think of an appropriate word beginning with the letter V. “Okay, I’ll bite. What does the V stand for?”

  “Vertical. Herb says it’s the only thing that gets him up on his feet in the morning.”

  WALNUT-DATE CHEWS

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

  1 cup melted butter (2 sticks, ½ pound)

  3 cups brown sugar (pack it down in the cup when you measure it)

  4 eggs, beaten (just stir them up in a glass with a fork until they’re a uniform color)

  1 teaspoon salt

  1 teaspoon baking soda

  1 Tablespoon (3 teaspoons) vanilla extract

  2 cups finely chopped walnuts (measure AFTER chopping)

  1 cup chopped dates***

  4 cups flour (don’t sift—pack it down in the cup when you measure it)

  Melt the butter on HIGH in a microwave-safe container for 90 seconds, or in a small saucepan on the stove over low heat.

  Transfer the melted butter to a large mixing bowl and add the brown sugar. Mix it well and let it cool to slightly above room temperature, just enough
so that it won’t cook the eggs when you add them!

  Mix in the beaten eggs. Stir until they’re thoroughly incorporated.

  Add the salt, baking soda, and vanilla. Mix it all up together.

  Mix in the walnuts and let the dough rest while you chop the dates.

  You can chop your dates by hand with a knife, but it’s a lot easier in a food processor or blender. Just pit them first (of course), cut each one into two or three pieces with a knife, put them into the bowl of your food processor or blender, and sprinkle a little flour (approximately ¼ cup) on top. The flour will keep them from “gumming up” when you process them.

  Measure one cup of chopped dates and add them to your mixing bowl. Stir them in thoroughly.

  Add the flour in one-cup increments, mixing after each addition. This dough will be fairly stiff.

  Form the dough into balls with your fingers. (Make them the size of a walnut with shell.) Place them on a greased cookie sheet, 12 to a standard sheet. (They will flatten a bit and spread out when they bake.)

  Bake at 350 degrees for 10 to 12 minutes or until lightly browned. Let them cool on the rack for two minutes and then remove them to a wire rack to complete cooling.

  These were my father’s favorites. Delores liked them, too.

  Lisa says her dad likes these best with a dish of vanilla ice cream.

  Chapter Seven

  The display jars behind the counter in the coffee shop were filled with the day’s cookie offerings, tables were set up with napkins, sugar, artificial sweetener, and cream, and the thirty-cup coffee pot was perking merrily in preparation for the customers they might or might not have on this, the second day of the Tri-County Fair. Hannah and Lisa had just finished packing up the massive order of cookies for the Cookie Nook booth at the fairgrounds, and they were sitting on stools at the kitchen workstation, going over their weekly supply order.

  “Another cup?” Lisa asked Hannah, gesturing toward the pot in the kitchen.

  “Sure. One more and I might feel human.” Hannah smiled as Lisa fetched the pot and filled her mug. “Anything else we need?”

  “I’m not sure. How are we doing on nuts?”

  “We get more than we used to, but you really shouldn’t talk about our customers that way.”

  Lisa stared at her for a split second, as if she’d lost her mind, and then she gave the giggle Hannah loved. “That’s funny!”

  “Thank goodness. I thought I’d lost my sense of humor, but this last cup of coffee must have brought it back. Did you happen to notice how much oatmeal we have left? I promised Andrea I’d make her some more Swedish Oatmeal Cookies.”

  “I thought Andrea didn’t like oatmeal.”

  “She doesn’t, but she’s eating it now.” Hannah began to grin, relishing the fact she’d tricked her sister into eating it at last.

  “There’s a story here.”

  “Yes, there is. Remind me to tell you when we’ve got more time. Just remember that if she ever asks you, oatmeal is really good for your hair.”

  “Your hair?”

  “That’s right.” Lisa looked uncomfortable, and Hannah knew why. Her young partner hated to lie. “You don’t have to come right out and lie about it.”

  “Okay. I’ll just smile, or not, or…” Lisa stopped talking as the back door opened and Andrea came in with Bethany in her arms. “Hi, Andrea. We were just talking about…”

  “Bethany.” Hannah saved Lisa in midblurt. “And there she is now! Lisa wanted to know if she was crawling yet.”

  “She’s crawling, I guess. If you can call it that.”

  “What’s she doing?” Lisa asked, bringing Andrea a cup of coffee and a plate filled with cookies.

  “I’ll show you.” Andrea set Bethany down on the floor.

  Hannah began to smile. When Tracey was a baby, Andrea was convinced that she shouldn’t be in any environment that wasn’t antiseptically clean. She hadn’t even put her down on a clean blanket in her own living room. She hadn’t allowed any visitors except family for the first three months for fear baby Tracey might “catch” something. She’d sterilized everything, boiled the washcloths she used to bathe Tracey, and cried gallons of tears when she hadn’t produced enough milk to nurse her. She’d read all the cautionary books and exhausted herself trying to do everything the baby gurus had advised. And when anything went wrong and baby Tracey came down with a cold or didn’t finish her dinner, Andrea had felt she was a failure as a mother.

  It was different this time, and Hannah was glad to see it. Andrea and Bill had a live-in nanny, Grandma McCann, who took care of Bethany while Andrea worked. The results were nothing short of remarkable. Andrea was able to have a good time with Bethany and relax around her.

  “I don’t think she’s going to crawl,” Hannah said, gazing down at her perfectly beautiful, perfectly immobile niece.

  “We’ll fix that.” Andrea pulled a stuffed rabbit from the diaper bag and set it a few feet in front of Bethany. “Go get it, Bethie. Show Aunt Hannah and Aunt Lisa how you crawl.”

  Bethany sat there staring at her toy for a moment, and then she gave the sweetest smile Hannah had ever seen. It wasn’t clear if the smile was for the stuffed rabbit or them, but it didn’t really matter. Her youngest niece was simply adorable.

  When Bethany moved, it was fast. She tucked one leg under her, leaned on it, and pushed off with the other leg. She repeated it several times, scooting toward the stuffed rabbit in spurts.

  “See what I mean?” Andrea asked, smiling when her daughter reached the rabbit, grabbed it, and chewed on the ears. “It’s not really a crawl, but it works. Grandma McCann thinks it’s because we have hardwood floors. Crawling would be hard on her knees, so she scoots. It cracks me up every time I watch her. The way she tucks her leg up reminds me of something, but I don’t know what.”

  Hannah thought about that for a moment, and the swimming classes she’d taken as a child flashed through her mind. They’d learned all sorts of swimming strokes and kicks, practicing them on the shore of Eden Lake and then in the lake itself. It wasn’t a flutter kick or a scissors kick, but there had been another that she’d never quite mastered and that one had been…

  “The frog kick!” she said aloud.

  Andrea turned to beam at her. “That’s exactly what it reminds me of, a sort of crooked frog kick. Mine were always crooked.”

  “So were mine,” Hannah admitted. “And Michelle’s, too. It must be hereditary.”

  “You’d better not let your mother hear you say that,” Lisa warned. “I don’t think she’d like being compared to a mother frog.”

  “Right,” Hannah said, and gave a little wave as Lisa headed off to the coffee shop to open for business.

  “I almost forgot why I drove over here,” Andrea said. “I’ve got news that’ll rock your world.”

  “What?” Hannah asked, not believing it for a moment. Andrea tended to exaggerate when she had some juicy gossip to tell. Her news might be interesting, perhaps even mildly startling, but it certainly wouldn’t rock anyone’s world.

  “I got this straight from Bertie at the Cut ’n Curl.” Andrea reached down to pick up Bethany, who’d managed to propel her way over to the work island. “Up you go, Bethie.”

  “Let me hold her.” Hannah held out her arms and was rewarded by a wide, open-mouthed grin from Bethany.

  Andrea handed the baby over, and then she retrieved a bottle of juice from the diaper bag and put it in front of Hannah. “She can have this. Bethie loves apple juice.”

  Hannah settled the baby in the crook of her arm and uncapped the bottle of juice. When Bethany had the bottle and she’d begun to drink, Hannah turned back to her sister. Andrea didn’t look as if she’d just had her hair done. “So what were you doing at the Cut ’n Curl?”

  “The Mother-Daughter look-alike luncheon is today, and I thought it might influence the judges if Tracey and I had the same hairstyle. Bertie’s doing Tracey’s now. Then she’s going to give Willa Sunquist a com
b-out. She just had a cut and a color weave. When she finishes with Willa, she’ll do me.”

  Hannah was surprised. Willa didn’t have much money, and a color weave was expensive. Perhaps her job as the chaperone for the Miss Tri-County contestants paid well. “Do you want me to keep Tracey and Bethany here while you have your hair done?”

  Andrea shook her head. “Grandma McCann’s down at Bertie’s with Tracey. I just wanted to bring Bethie up to see you and give you the big news.”

  “All right. Give.”

  “Well, Bertie got it straight from Carrie. She’s the one who got the phone call.”

  “What phone call?” Hannah asked, and she felt her frustration level jump up a notch. Andrea loved to drag things out when she had some juicy gossip. “Is it something about Norman?”

  “It sure is. The secretary from the fairgrounds called Carrie this morning to tell her that the picture Norman took of you won first place in the photography competition.”

  “That’s great!” Hannah exclaimed. This time Andrea’s news really was important. “Does Norman know?”

  “He does, now. He was down at the café, and Carrie called him on his cell phone to tell him.”

  “Thanks for coming here to tell me,” Hannah said. And then, because she just couldn’t resist, she followed it up with, “I’m really happy Norman won, but it didn’t exactly rock my world.”

  “That’s because I haven’t told you the rocking-your-world part yet.”

  With that, Andrea stopped speaking and grinned at her older sister. The only sound was Bethany sucking on her bottle of juice. Hannah let the absence of conversation go on. It was a test. The sister who spoke first lost.