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

by Joanne Fluke

  Hannah had the insane urge to tell him he was getting warmer. It was almost as if they were playing her favorite childhood game, the one where someone leaves the room, the group hides something, the person comes back in, and the group directs them to the hidden object by telling them whether they’re warmer or colder.

  But this is no game, Hannah’s mind told her. It’s all too real, and you have to answer him. She took a deep breath and did what her mind had suggested. “I’m around the side of the shooting gallery,” she said.

  “You sound weird. What’s the matter?”

  Hannah opened her mouth to answer, but she was too busy wondering how he could run and ask questions at the same time. He didn’t even sound winded! She certainly couldn’t do it, but then she was at least twenty pounds overweight, and she’d been about to add to that total by ordering a deep-fried, cookie-battered Milky Way until he’d caught her standing in front of the booth.

  “Hannah? I asked you what was the matter?”

  Hannah sighed. He’d be here any second and then he could see for himself. But he’d asked and his question deserved an answer. “Dead,” she said.

  “Someone’s dead?” Mike asked, rounding the corner with the speed of an Olympic hopeful. “Who?”

  “Willa Sunquist.” Hannah identified the victim for him before her legs gave way and she sank down to the ground to stare back at the glass-eyed teddy bears.

  Chapter Twelve

  The phrase through a glass darkly floated in her mind. Nothing seemed quite real, not even the staring teddy bears or Willa’s body lying crumpled only a few feet away. Hannah had the bizarre feeling that she was acting in a movie with no director, and she didn’t know what she was supposed to do next.

  “Hannah?” Mike’s face loomed large, like a pale moon that floated over her. He must be bending down to talk to her. And that brought up a new thought. Why was she sitting on the ground?

  “Let me help you up. Can you stand?”

  Hannah considered that for long moments. Could she stand? She really wasn’t sure. She wouldn’t know until she tried, so she held out her hands and let Mike pull her to her feet.

  “Yes,” she answered, when she was actually standing.

  “Yes, what?”

  “Yes, I can stand. But I don’t know how long.”

  “You’re in shock,” Mike said, tipping up her chin and shining his flashlight into her eyes.

  “Oh. That explains the movie then.”

  Mike raised his eyebrows, but he didn’t say anything. He just half-carried her over to one of the hay bales and pushed her into a sitting position. Then he stacked up two bales on the other side of her and three behind her so that she couldn’t topple off his prickly makeshift chair.

  “Nice,” Hannah said, wondering how much longer she could have stayed on her feet. Her legs were trembling, and she felt a little dizzy. “It’s better than the one-chair-fits-all in the secretary’s office.”

  Mike made a little whooshing sound between his teeth and shook his head. “Just stay right there while I make some calls.”

  Hannah felt a wave of panic that started in her trembling legs and rose all the way up to her throat. She swallowed hard with a little gulp and tried to slow her rapid heartbeat. “You’re not going to leave me, are you?”

  “Never. I’ve got my cell phone. Just try to relax and let me get the crime scene team over here.”

  Hannah nodded. Or at least she thought she nodded. She didn’t seem to be able to completely control her own body. Her legs were still trembling even though she willed them to be still, and she felt terribly cold, so cold that her teeth were chattering. This was probably why each squad car was equipped with a blanket in the trunk. Hannah wished Mike would take his out and cover Willa. Of course he couldn’t do that, not until the crime scene team was through. And his squad car wasn’t here anyway. It was out in the parking lot.

  “Here,” Mike said, shrugging out of his sheriff’s windbreaker and draping it over her shoulders.

  “Thanks,” Hannah said gratefully. The jacket was very comforting. It was lined with flannel and it was warm. There was also the fact that it belonged to Mike, and that made her feel warm all over. She pulled it closer around her and glanced down. The Winnetka County Sheriff’s Department had adopted the Minnesota state colors, maroon and gold. Mike’s windbreaker was no exception. It was maroon, only one shade darker than Reverend Knudson’s pickled beets. Hannah imagined how Mike’s jacket would look teamed with her red hair, and she started shivering again. “Don’t look at me. Maroon’s not my best color.”

  Mike gave a startled bark of laughter, and then he turned back to the phone again. Hannah half-listened as he contacted Doc Knight, the county coroner, and Andrea’s husband, Bill, the Winnetka County Sheriff. She was just thinking about Delores and how upset she’d be that her eldest daughter had found another murder victim, when what Mike was saying into the receiver registered in her mind.

  “Okay, Norman. Thanks a lot. I’ll tell them to let you in.”

  Norman? In? Hannah wondered what all that was about. “Did you call Norman in to take crime scene photos?” she asked.

  “No, I called him in to take you home. I don’t want you driving in your condition.”

  “What condition?” Hannah was genuinely puzzled. “I haven’t had anything to drink.”

  “I know that, but you’re still in shock and I don’t want to take the chance you’ll get into an accident on the way home.”

  “But I’m perfectly capable of driving. And since I’ve got a valid license and I’m not under the influence of any substance that would negatively affect my driving ability, you can’t stop me…can you?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “But how?”

  “It’s simple,” Mike said, reaching into his pocket and holding up a key ring. “I’ve got the keys to your truck.”

  Hannah’s mouth dropped open. “You took my keys?”

  “Not exactly. I asked you to hand over your purse so I could have your keys, and you did. Don’t you remember?”

  “No,” Hannah said, admitting defeat. Not only had she handed over her purse without question, she hadn’t even noticed when he went through it and took out her keys. It was clear that her ladder wasn’t reaching all the way to the top, she wasn’t playing with a full deck, and she was several cookies short of a baker’s dozen. Mike was right, and she was wrong. She was too distracted to drive safely.

  “So you’re okay with Norman driving you home?”

  Hannah was about to nod when she thought of a rejoinder. “I am if you are.”

  Mike laughed. “You’re at least halfway back,” he said, reaching out to give her a little hug. “For a couple of minutes there, I was worried. It takes some people hours to recover from the shock of finding a victim of a violent crime.”

  Thanks for reminding me, Hannah said under her breath.

  “What was that?”

  Hannah thought fast and then she said, “It’s not like it hasn’t happened to me before. Do you want to take my statement now?”

  “Later. I’ll be here for an hour or so, and then I’ll drive out to your condo. I’ll bring your truck. I can catch a ride back to the station with Norman.”

  Hannah might have been in shock, but she caught the implication of Mike’s words. He didn’t want Norman to stay at her condo any longer than he did. One way to ensure that was to arrange it so that both of them left in the same car at the same time.

  “Why are you smiling?” Mike asked her.

  Hannah considered her words carefully. Everyone, including her mother, always accused her of having no tact. “Oh, I’m just glad you’re taking care of everything and all I have to do is ride home,” she said, wondering if that qualified her to join the ranks of the tactful.

  “He’s got it in his mouth,” Norman commented, watching Moishe as he passed by the back of the couch in Hannah’s living room. “It’s just the meat. He left the bun in the kitchen. He’s go
ing down the hall and…” Norman craned his neck to see. “I think he’s carrying it into your bedroom.”

  Normally Hannah would have been up and running, chasing after her feline so that he couldn’t hide the burger under her bed. Tonight it was a different story, and she stayed put. Moishe was showing some interest in food for the first time in three days, and she wasn’t about to do anything that might distract him.

  “Do you want me to stop him? Or watch to make sure he doesn’t drop it somewhere?” Michelle asked.

  “Let him go. Maybe he’ll eat it if we don’t disturb him. It wouldn’t hurt to check under your pillow before you go to bed, though.”

  “Would he put it there?” Norman asked.

  Hannah shrugged. “I’ve found a couple of mouse parts under my pillow.”

  “Mouse parts?” Norman repeated, chuckling. “I don’t think I want to know what that means.”

  They were quiet for a moment. Good smells were coming from the oven. Hannah had decided to bake right after Norman had brought her home. It always relaxed her and made her think more clearly. She’d no sooner slipped the pan in the oven than Michelle had come in from her date with Lonnie. They’d taken seats in the living room and Hannah had told her the gruesome news.

  “I still can’t believe she’s dead.” Michelle shivered slightly. “Who’d want to kill Miss Sunquist?”

  “That’s what I’ve been asking myself ever since I found her. How about the girls in the beauty pageant?”

  “But everybody adored Miss Sunquist. She was so helpful and nice. I don’t think there was a single contestant who didn’t like her.”

  Hannah’s senses went on red alert as an interesting array of expressions crossed her youngest sister’s face. At first Michelle was perfectly sincere, believing utterly what she’d just said. But then her eyes narrowed slightly, and a frown line appeared between her eyebrows. Her next expression was disbelief as she considered the thought she’d just had. And then there was denial, with just a hint of suspicion that lingered long after the denial had gone.

  “What just crossed your mind?” Hannah asked, leaning forward.

  “It’s probably nothing. And I wouldn’t want to get anyone in trouble. It’s impossible, anyway. She really wasn’t that upset.”

  “Who wasn’t that upset?” Norman asked her.

  “One of the other contestants. But I really don’t think she’d actually do…” Michelle stopped speaking and looked terribly worried.

  “She’d actually do what?” Hannah jumped in. “This is a murder investigation, Michelle. Somebody killed Willa in cold blood. She didn’t pick up that mallet and bash in her own head.”

  Michelle looked sick. “I know that. But…”

  “You liked Miss Sunquist, didn’t you?” Norman interrupted what was clearly going to be more hedging from Michelle.

  “Of course I did!”

  Hannah seized the opportunity Norman had presented and took over the argument. “Then you owe it to Willa to tell us anything you think might be relevant to her death. That’s anything, Michelle. Even if it’s just a suspicion.”

  Michelle thought about that for a moment. “You’re right. I don’t owe Tasha anything.”

  “The blonde who wore the emerald green evening gown?” Hannah asked, remembering Michelle’s fellow contestant from the first night of competition.

  “That’s right. She almost got me in trouble by asking me to cover for her. But I couldn’t lie to Miss Sunquist, and I told Tasha that.”

  The oven timer sounded, and Hannah stood up. “Hold that thought. I’m going to get our popovers, and I want you to tell me everything when I get back.”

  It only took Hannah a moment or two to tip the popovers out of the muffin tins and into a wicker basket that she’d lined with a napkin. She picked up the tray she’d already assembled with fancy butters and jams. She set the basket in the center of the tray and carried everything out to the coffee table in front of the living room couch.

  “Those smell really good!” Norman said, smiling at Hannah.

  “They are good. Andrea got the recipe from Bill’s cousin, Bernadette.”

  “Andrea makes these?” Michelle looked utterly astounded as she stared down at the golden popovers.

  “Of course not.” Hannah gave a little laugh. All three of them knew that the only cooking Andrea ever did was to microwave frozen dinners. “Andrea gave the recipe to me, and I make them for her whenever she wants them. We have to let them cool for a minute or two, and then we can dig in. And after that, Michelle can tell us everything she knows about Tasha.”

  BERNADETTE’S POPOVERS

  Preheat oven to 450 degrees F., rack in the middle position.

  Spray a 12-cup muffin pan with Pam or other nonstick cooking spray. You can also grease them with clarified butter, or lard if you prefer.

  Hannah’s 1st Note: Before I got this recipe, my popovers always looked as if they’d been run over by Earl Flensburg’s tow truck. Now they’re high, light, golden brown, and gorgeous.

  4 eggs***

  2 cups milk

  2 cups flour (not sifted)

  1 teaspoon salt

  Hannah’s 2nd Note: You should mix this recipe by hand with a whisk. If you use an electric mixer, it will add too much air to the eggs.

  Whisk the eggs until they’re a light, uniform color, but not yet fluffy. It should take no more than a minute or so.

  Add the milk and whisk it in until it’s incorporated.

  Measure out the flour and dump it in the bowl all at once. Dump in the salt on top of it. Then stir for a moment or two with a wooden spoon until all the flour has been moistened and incorporated. You will still have lumps (like brownie batter) but that’s fine. In this recipe, you actually want lumps!

  Transfer the batter to a container with a spout (I used a measuring cup). Pour the batter into the muffin cups, filling them almost to the top.

  Bake at 450 degrees F. for exactly 30 minutes. (Don’t peek while they’re baking or they’ll fall!)

  When 30 minutes have passed, remove the pan to a cold burner or a wire rack and pierce the top of each popover with a sharp knife to release the steam.

  Let the popovers stand in the pan for a minute or two, and then tip them out into a napkin-lined basket.

  Serve with sweet butter, salted butter, fruit butters, jams, jellies, or cream cheese.

  Yield: 12 large popovers that everyone will love.

  Hannah’s 3rd Note: These popovers are also good at room temperature. I haven’t done this yet, but I’m going to try filling them with egg salad, tuna salad, or salmon salad. If it works, it’ll be a great dish for a brunch.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Willa didn’t say anything about disqualifying anyone,” Hannah said, breaking open a popover and buttering one side with cashew butter and the other with honey butter.

  “That’s because she called us all together before the competition started tonight, and we agreed we wouldn’t tell anyone the details. All we were supposed to say was that Tasha was no longer in the competition.” Michelle looked a bit guilty. “I guess I’m breaking my promise.”

  “You made that promise when Willa was still alive. Circumstances have changed,” Norman pointed out.

  Hannah took a bite of her popover, gave a little sigh of contentment, and took a sip of coffee. “Okay. Tell us everything you know, Michelle.”

  “Tasha was thirty minutes late for the miniature garden show at the Ag-Hort Building on the first afternoon. She told Miss Sunquist that her car broke down, but she told me that she was talking to her boyfriend in the parking lot and she lost track of time.”

  Hannah thought back to what Willa had told them about the grounds for disqualification. “Just being late once wouldn’t be enough to do it, would it?”

  “No. There were other things, too. We weren’t supposed to use bad language while we were wearing our badges. Miss Sunquist explained why. But Tasha swore a couple of times backstage at the even
ing gown competition, and I know she got marked off for it.”

  “That’s all?” Norman asked.

  “I haven’t gotten to the final thing yet,” Michelle said, giving a little sigh. “I feel like a snitch, but that’s not important, is it?”

  “Not really.” Hannah was glad her sister had her priorities straight. “Your feelings aren’t the issue here. Willa’s death is.”

  “Tasha was a no-show at the quilting demonstration this afternoon. She would have gotten another chance if she’d just been late, but she missed the whole event and she didn’t call in to explain or anything. Miss Sunquist was really worried about her.”

  “When did she show up?” Hannah asked the pertinent question.

  “At six. Her boyfriend dropped her off for the swimsuit competition. And when Miss Sunquist asked Tasha why she wasn’t at the quilting demonstration, she said she just didn’t feel like sitting there for an hour and watching someone sew. Tasha didn’t give Miss Sunquist a choice. She had to disqualify her.”

  “And Tasha was upset about being disqualified?” Norman guessed.

  “Not really. I think she didn’t show up on purpose so she’d get kicked out. I helped her pack up her things, and she told me she didn’t want to be in the competition anyway.”

  “Do you think that was just sour grapes?” Norman asked.

  “And you don’t think that was bravado on her part?” Hannah added.

  “No to both of you. She said she’d rather spend the time with her boyfriend, and I believe her. She never acted thrilled with the contest, not even when she took second in the evening gown competition.”