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

by Joanne Fluke

Even if she were so inclined, there was no way Hannah could get close to the mayhem on the set. People were yelling, screaming, pushing, and shoving to get away from the violent scene. Hannah stood where she was, not wanting to move until some sort of order was restored, and stared at the panicking actors and extras.

  Was that a blue uniform in the middle of the melee? Hannah tried to see past an opaque lavender silk object that turned out to be Helen Barthel’s derrierre. Yes, it was Mike, towering head and shoulders above the diminutive Amber Coombs in her smart little cocktail waitress uniform. As Hannah watched, Mike made his way through the crowd and arrived at Lynne’s side. He spoke to her for a moment and Hannah saw him pick up the chair with Lynne still in it, and place it so that she was sitting a few feet away from the desk. A moment later, Mike had commandeered a Japanese silk screen and he moved it in place to block Dean’s body from everyone’s view.

  Hannah was so shocked by what she’d just witnessed, her mind took a strange twist. She’d been planning to add Jane’s Mini Cherry Cheesecakes to her menu at The Cookie Jar, but now that was definitely out. Anyone who had seen the dreadful incident would never be able to look at the cheesecakes without remembering Dean’s last effort to play someone else’s part and his second-to-final resting place. It was really a shame, because the cheesecakes were very good and they would have looked lovely on a silver tray with a white paper doily and…

  She was jerked back to the present by a piercing whistle. There was a second whistle, and then a third. And then she heard Mike’s voice.

  “Stop! Stop right where you are!” he yelled, cupping his hands around his mouth in a makeshift megaphone. “Nobody move a muscle!”

  Hannah watched in amazement as everyone did exactly as Mike had instructed. His was the voice of authority, and they needed some authority right about now.

  “Let Deputy Murphy through, please,” Mike ordered, but in a softer voice. “I want complete quiet while we remove Mrs. Larchmont from the scene. She’s had a bad shock and she needs to rest.”

  There was complete silence on the set. Those who knew what had happened were thankful they hadn’t been in Lynne’s place, so close to their director’s violent death. And those who didn’t know weren’t about to disobey an acting sheriff’s orders.

  “As soon as Deputy Murphy leaves with Mrs. Larchmont, I’m going to divide you into groups. The deputies I’ve called in will escort you to three different locations to be interviewed. Everyone must wait there until a deputy takes his or her statement. Whether you actually witnessed the unfortunate incident or not, we need to interview you. Do you understand?”

  There were assenting murmurs and Mike was about to go on when he was interrupted by a question from Lynne.

  “Excuse me, but…I just have to ask. Dean…he’s…he’s dead, isn’t he?”

  “Yes, Ma’am,” Mike answered her. “Just go with Deputy Murphy and he’ll take care of everything.”

  Hannah watched as Tom Larchmont approached Lonnie and asked him a question. Lonnie nodded and Tom joined them as they went out the door.

  “I know this may inconvenience some people,” Mike went on, “but everyone here will have to be searched before they leave Granny’s Attic. It’s not that we don’t trust you, but it’s standard operating procedure with this many witnesses.”

  There were the predictable grumbles and Mike spoke up again. “If you’re good boys and girls, we’ll make sure we have coffee at the three locations, and some snacks to tide you over. How’s that?”

  The grumbles faded and a few people smiled at their acting sheriff. Mike looked pleased as he addressed them again. “Thanks, folks. Let’s all cooperate so I can get you home in a timely manner. And just let me add that you are the best-dressed witnesses that the Winnetka County Sheriff’s Department has ever interviewed!”

  There were a few grins and a couple of tentative chuckles. Hannah couldn’t believe it. Mike had done such a good job of covering up the gruesome details that people were feeling much better. Mayor Bascomb, the ultimate politician in Hannah’s opinion, had nothing on Mike. If the first man of Lake Eden wasn’t careful, Mike might just unseat him someday!

  Hannah hung back as Mike and the deputies he’d called to the scene arranged the extras and the movie people into three groups. One group was going to the community center, where Edna Ferguson would provide coffee and snacks. The second group would be held at Hal & Rose’s Cafe, and Rose had been alerted. The third group, the group that included the cast, the cameramen, and most of the movie people who’d been working at the scene, would be taken to The Cookie Jar where Lisa was waiting with fresh coffee and cookies.

  It took awhile, but at last Hannah had a chance for a private word with Mike. She put all thoughts of how good he looked in the dark blue uniform out of her head and concentrated on asking the right questions.

  “Do you think Dean committed suicide?” she asked, speaking softly so that the cameramen, who were loading up their equipment, wouldn’t hear her.

  “That’s one possibility I can’t ignore, but I doubt it. Most people who shoot themselves don’t do it in front of movie cameras and dozens of actors and extras.”

  “True.” Hannah was glad to learn that Mike had come to the same conclusion she had. “Then it’s murder?”

  “That’s my guess.”

  “Is there anything I can do to help you?”

  “Yes,” Mike said, slipping his arm around her waist and pulling her close for a brief hug. “You can forget about investigating this on your own and let me handle it.”

  Hannah turned the hug into a longer one than Mike had intended. It was partially because she liked to hug Mike and partially because she didn’t want to promise something she knew she wouldn’t do. “Which witness group am I in?”

  “The Cookie Jar group. I’ll need you to help me with Mrs. Larchmont. She’s a friend of yours, right?”

  “That’s right. I knew her in college.”

  “Well, she’s very broken up over this whole thing and I don’t think we’re going to get much out of interviewing her.”

  “I’m sure you’re right. She’s bound to be traumatized since it happened right in front of her.”

  “I had Lonnie take her down to The Cookie Jar. Her husband’s with her and that should help. Anything you can say to help calm her down would be good.”

  “Of course. How about Sharyn Lawrence? What group is she in?”

  “She’s with Mrs. Larchmont and her husband. I understand he’s her uncle?”

  “Right.” Hannah took a deep breath. She knew she was prying, but it was a question she had to ask. “Did she see the whole thing?”

  “No. She told Lonnie she’d just left to get coffee for Dean. He always called for coffee after he finished demonstrating a scene, and she wanted to have it ready for him. She was upstairs in the break room with Luanne and Andrea when it happened.”

  “Thank goodness!” Hannah said, but her mind was racing. Had Sharyn left just to fetch coffee for her husband? Or had she known the gun would fire and wanted to get as far away as possible?

  Mike pulled out his notebook and Hannah took a deep breath. She was about to get interviewed.

  “Did you see me check the revolver?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you see anyone near the desk after that?”

  Hannah shook her head. “No, but I was busy filling up trays with appetizers. After I finished, I went to stand with the other people who were watching. There were a lot of people walking around on the set, and I didn’t really start looking at the desk until Lynne walked over there and took her place.”

  “Do you know of anyone who had a reason to want Dean dead?”

  Hannah thought for a moment. “No one in particular. He wasn’t the easiest man to get along with, but I don’t know of anybody who’d actually murder him. And everybody agreed that he was a brilliant director.”

  “But you knew people who didn’t like him?”

  “Plenty, incl
uding me. Dean could lay on the charm, but he wasn’t a nice man. Ask anybody and I think they’ll agree with me. If he didn’t have everything just the way he wanted it, he could be nasty.”

  “But you don’t think that’s a motive for murder?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe it is. As you said before, you’re the detective.” Hannah marshaled her thoughts and asked a question. “It’s pretty obvious to me that someone switched guns. Do you agree?”

  “Of course. They’re the same model and manufacturer, but the one I inspected didn’t have a firing pin. This one had bullets, and the revolver I checked wasn’t loaded.”

  “Is that the reason you’re searching everyone before they leave?”

  “That’s right. There was only one gun in that drawer, the one that killed Mr. Lawrence. Someone took the prop gun and replaced it with a working, fully loaded revolver. If nobody tries to remove the prop gun from the building, then it’s still here.”

  “And it may have fingerprints on it?”

  “It’s a possibility.”

  “Here’s another possibility,” Hannah said, preparing to throw out a suggestion. “Do you think the bullet was meant for Dean? Or was it for Burke, who was supposed to be acting in that scene?”

  Mike laughed and gave Hannah another little hug. “I love the way your mind works. The answer is, it could go either way. Someone who’s familiar with Dean’s work habits and knew that he usually demonstrated roles for his actors could have set the whole thing up to kill Dean.”

  “And on the other hand, someone who didn’t know Dean’s work habits might have set it up to kill Burke?”

  “That’s right.”

  “So then we have to treat both Dean and Burke as victims and look at the people who have motives for killing either one of them?”

  “Exactly, but what’s this we stuff?” Mike began to scowl. “I’m the detective here, not you.”

  “I know that.”

  “I know you know, but I want you to promise that you won’t investigate on your own.”

  Hannah nodded, but that didn’t seem to be good enough for Mike. He was still scowling.

  “I want you to promise out loud,” Mike insisted.

  Hannah hesitated, but then she realized that Mike’s wording had given her an out. She gave him the sweetest, most guileless smile she could muster and said, “I promise I won’t investigate on my own.”

  “Okay, ’nuff said.” Mike gave her another hug and a push toward the door. “Go back to The Cookie Jar. I’ll wait for Doc Knight and then I’ll come right over.”

  Hannah stopped at the door where Rick Murphy was frisking the last of the witnesses. He took one look at Hannah, made sure the last witness was out of earshot, and shook his head. “I don’t need to search you, Hannah.”

  “Yes, you do. Mike said you have to search everyone.” Hannah held her arms out to side and let Rick examine her pockets and frisk her for any weapon concealed on her person. “I want Mike to be sure I didn’t leave with that prop gun.”

  Once she was outside on the sidewalk, Hannah started to grin. She’d promised Mike that she wouldn’t investigate on her own, and she wouldn’t. She’d just nose around and see what turned up, and she wouldn’t do that alone either…not when she had her two sisters, Norman, Delores, Carrie, and the rest of her extended family to help her!

  Chapter

  Twenty-One

  When Hannah came in the front door of The Cookie Jar, she found her extended family already organized. Andrea and Lisa were making the rounds with coffee and cookies, while Carrie and Delores were handling hot water for tea and tea bags. They were listening so intently as they waited on the tables that Hannah imagined she could see their ears revolving like Moishe’s did when he heard the patter of tiny mouse feet in the space behind the walls.

  Sharyn was sitting with Lynne and Tom Larchmont, and she was holding Moishe on her lap. Hannah took in Sharyn’s pale face and the tracks of recent tears on her cheeks, and wondered if Dean’s wife was truly grief stricken, or whether she was every bit as good an actress as Lynne was. If Sharyn had found out about Dean’s infidelities, she certainly had a motive to do away with her husband. And the fact that she hadn’t been there when her husband’s death had occurred could be either a stroke of luck, or an aversion to witnessing the gory scene.

  Hannah’s attention turned to Lynne, who looked quite calm despite the trauma she must have endured. It couldn’t have been pleasant for her to see her director’s death. On the other hand, Lynne had never been squeamish in college and she probably wasn’t squeamish now. Hannah recalled that Lynne had been the one to set traps to get rid of the rodents in their apartment building, and she’d emptied them every morning. She’d even kept a record of what she’d called her “kills,” posting a tally sheet in the kitchen and marking off every successful snap of the bail. When Ross and Hannah had told her they thought it was a bit cold blooded to keep count, Lynne had just laughed at them. A pest was a pest, she’d said, and she didn’t mind exterminating them at all. Perhaps, in light of her college behavior, watching the end result of the gun switch she’d made hadn’t bothered Lynne that much at all and her show of horror and grief had been a brilliantly acted ruse.

  Then there was Tom Larchmont to consider. Hannah eyed the distinguished, silver-haired man with some suspicion. She was almost certain that Lynne had been one of the early morning visitors to Dean’s Winnebago and had left by the rear exit. What if Tom had found out about Lynne’s visit to Dean’s trailer? Was he the type of jealous husband who’d murder Dean for dallying with his wife?

  Hannah was just looking around for Connor, another man she’d labeled as a suspect, when Andrea and Michelle rushed up to her.

  “We need a meeting,” Andrea said, grabbing Hannah’s arm. “Mother and Carrie promised to help Lisa hold down the fort here.”

  “Let’s go to the kitchen,” Hannah suggested, but Michelle shook her head.

  “We can’t. I just talked to Lonnie and Mike’s going to be using the kitchen for follow-up interviews. The other detectives are weeding out promising witnesses and sending them to Mike.”

  “What are those?” Andrea wanted to know.

  Hannah was curious. “Did Lonnie tell you what makes a witness promising?”

  “I asked him that. He said they’re the ones who were in a position to see or hear something potentially important to the investigation, like anyone who was standing close to Dean, or the waitress who put the tray of Mini Cherry Cheesecakes on the top of the desk.”

  “That would be Amber Coombs,” Hannah offered. “Dean told her to put it there, but I don’t know why.”

  Andrea’s hand shot up, just as if she were still in school. “I know. I read the whole script. It was so Burke could fall face forward in the cheesecake after he shot himself. Except Burke didn’t shoot himself, Dean did. And that’s…really awful. I wonder if he had any…any…what’s that word, Hannah?”

  “Premonition?”

  “That’s it. I wonder if he had any premonition he’d be the one with his face in the cheesecake?”

  All three sisters shivered slightly. It was a reminder of how quickly death could close in on an unsuspecting victim. They shared a moment of nervous silence and then Hannah broke it with a question.

  “Are you ready to get down to business?” she asked. And when both of her younger sisters nodded, she went on. “Since Mike has dibs on the kitchen, we’ll use my cookie truck.”

  “That’ll get chilly,” Andrea objected. “How about running across the street to Lake Eden Realty? I’ve got the key.”

  A few minutes later, the three sisters were seated in swivel chairs around Lake Eden Realty’s oval conference table. Hannah had brought a thermos of coffee and a bag of her latest creations.

  “What are these?” Michelle asked, biting into a cookie.

  “Double Flakes.”

  “Double flakes?” Andrea frowned slightly. “I can taste coconut and that’s one flake. But w
hat’s the other?”

  Hannah shook her head. “I’ll never tell. Just let me say that it’s something you wouldn’t expect to be in a cookie.” She flipped open the steno pad she’d carried across the street with her and pushed it across the table to Andrea. “Will you take notes?”

  “You always ask me to write things down!”

  “That’s true, but it’s because you have such good penmanship. If I take notes, my mind gets ahead of my fingers and I have trouble figuring them out later.”

  “Okay, I’ll do it. But there’s a price.”

  “What is it?” Hannah asked, expecting her sister to demand a whole batch of her favorite cookies.

  “I want to know what the second flakes are.”

  “No, you don’t. It’s a lot like Mystery Cookies. Once you find out what’s in them, you keep eating, and eating, and trying to taste it.”

  Andrea made a big show of putting down her pen and flipping the steno pad closed. “If you won’t cooperate and tell me, then I won’t cooperate and take notes. Your unpaid personal secretary just quit.”

  “Come on, Andrea. It’ll just drive you crazy.”

  “No, it won’t. Trust me. Once you tell me, it’ll be all over. And then you’ll have perfectly legible notes.”

  Hannah glanced at Michelle, who shrugged. “I think she’s got you over a barrel,” she said.

  “All right,” Hannah conceded with a sigh. “I’ll tell you. It’s instant mashed potato flakes.”

  “You’re kidding! I never would have guessed!” Andrea took another bite, and frowned as she chewed. “Are you sure? I don’t taste instant potato flakes.”

  “I’m sure. I mixed up the dough myself.”

  “Well, I still don’t taste them. Pass me another couple of cookies. Maybe the last one I ate was missing its potato flakes.”

  Hannah and Michelle sat back and watched as the cookies disappeared one by one. Finally, on the last cookie, Andrea gave a nod. “I think I taste them, but I’m not really sure. You don’t have any more, do you?”

  “Not here. I’ll make you another batch tomorrow.”