by Joanne Fluke
“The autopsy report isn’t in yet.”
“I’m asking for your personal opinion.” Hannah gave an exasperated sigh. “Do you think that Rhonda was murdered? Or did it look like an accident?”
Mike thought it over for a moment and then he relented. “This is unofficial. If you quote me I’ll deny it, but it didn’t look like an accident to me. Now don’t ask me any more questions, Hannah. That’s all I’m saying.”
“Just one more thing. Why didn’t Rhonda’s killer finish burying her? She told everyone that she was going on vacation and no one would have missed her for two weeks. Her killer could have bought himself a lot more time if he’d finished burying her.”
“I know that.”
“Then you think he was scared off before he could finish filling in her grave?”
“That’s possible.”
“What I can’t figure out is why anyone wanted to kill Rhonda. She could be exasperating at times, but everyone I know seemed to like her well enough. How about the crime scene? Did you find any clues?”
Mike’s eyes narrowed. “You’re not going to interfere with our investigation, are you? You don’t have any reason to get involved this time around.”
“You’re right,” Hannah said, meeting his eyes squarely. “I’ve got enough to do without solving murder cases. Of course I’ll tell you if I hear anything important, but that’s as far as it’ll go.”
“Good.” Mike gave her one of his melt-your-heart smiles and pulled her into his arms for a hug. “Bill and I are perfectly capable of running a murder investigation without you.”
“Of course you are,” Hannah said, hiding her grin against the maroon lapel of his sheriff’s uniform. She’d already helped them solve several murder cases, but Mike was clearly asserting his professional independence.
“I won’t deny that you helped us a lot in the past, but I don’t want people to think we can’t do our job without you.”
“I understand,” Hannah breathed, snuggling a little closer. Mike’s hugs were wonderful. He was tall and rugged, and being in his arms made her feel fragile and feminine.
Mike’s cell phone rang, disrupting the moment, and he answered it. He listened for a moment. “Okay. I’ll be out there in ten minutes.”
“You have to go?” Hannah asked, already knowing the answer.
“Yes, but I’ll call you later. The forensic guys are finished and Bill’s waiting for me out at the crime scene.”
“Take some cookies with you,” Hannah said, heading for the counter to put some in a bag.
“Thanks. We probably won’t get a break until late and they’ll tide us over.” Mike took the cookies and gave her a lopsided grin. “Remember what I said, Hannah. Bill and I can handle it.”
Walnuttoes
Do not preheat oven—
dough must chill before baking.
2 cups chocolate chips (a 12-ounce bag)
1½ cups brown sugar
¾ cup butter (1½ sticks)
4 eggs
2 teaspoons vanilla
2 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon salt
2 cups flour (not sifted)
2 cups finely chopped walnuts approx. ½ cup additional white sugar in a small bowl
Melt chocolate chips with butter. (Microwave on high for 2 minutes, then stir until smooth.) Mix in sugar and let cool. Add eggs, one at a time, mixing well after each addition. Mix in vanilla, baking powder and salt. Add flour and mix well, then add nuts and mix in.
Chill dough for at least 4 hours, overnight is even better.
When you’re ready to bake, preheat oven to 350 degrees F., rack in the middle position.
Roll walnut-sized dough balls with your hands. (This is messy—wear thin plastic gloves if you wish. If dough becomes too warm between rollings, return it to the refrigerator.)
Drop dough balls into a small bowl with white sugar and roll around to coat. Then place them on a greased cookie sheet, 12 to a standard sheet. Smush them down with a greased spatula.
Bake at 350 degrees F. for 12 to 14 minutes. Let cool on cookie sheet for 1 minute, then remove to wire rack. (If you leave them on the cookie sheet too long, they’ll stick.)
Yield: 8 to 10 dozen, depending on cookie size.
(Delores says these cookies taste like the Walnetto caramels she loved as a child. She also told me that she likes the cookies better, because they don’t pull out her fillings.)
Chapter
Seven
H annah was ready to return to the coffee shop when the back door opened and Delores poked her head in. “Are you busy, dear?”
“I’ve got a minute,” Hannah greeted her. “Come in and have a cookie. I’ve got Peanut Butter Melts, Apricot Drops, or Chocolate Chip Crunches.”
Delores sat down on the stool Mike had vacated at the stainless-steel workstation. “I’ll take a Chocolate Chip Crunch. You’re going to investigate, aren’t you?”
“No,” Hannah answered, pouring a mug of coffee and setting it down in front of her mother.
“But you’ve got to investigate!”
“Why?”
“Because Rhonda’s dead and we need to find out who killed her.”
Hannah gulped. She’d told no one except Mike about the lime green tennis shoe. “How do you know it was Rhonda?”
“Bill told Andrea, and Andrea told me. I just got off the phone with her.”
“What else did you learn?” Despite her resolve, Hannah’s curiosity was aroused.
“Rhonda was stabbed with a knife.”
“Bill told Andrea that?”
“No, Bill and Mike don’t know it yet. Minnie Holtzmeier told me.”
“How does Minnie know?”
“Her son was driving the ambulance that took Rhonda to the morgue and he heard the two paramedics talking in the back. One of them said that it was a single stab wound and the blade of the knife went in between two ribs to puncture Rhonda’s heart. The other one said Rhonda must have died instantly and that was a blessing.”
“That’s interesting, but I promised Mike I wouldn’t interfere.” Hannah placed two cookies on a napkin and carried them over to Delores. Her mother had only asked for one, but she always ate two and it would save her a return trip. “Don’t pass that information around, Mother. It might hamper the investigation and it’s really none of your business.”
“Of course it’s my business. I have a vested interest.”
Hannah was puzzled. “What vested interest?”
“I’m the one who found Rhonda! I owe it to her to do everything in my power to see that her killer is caught. Haven’t you heard that when you save someone’s life, you bear a responsibility to them?”
Hannah had heard that line in a score of bad movies. “But you didn’t save Rhonda’s life. Rhonda was already dead when you found her.”
“I know, but it still amounts to the same thing.”
Hannah shook her head to clear it. Her mother’s logic left a lot to be desired. She thought about pointing out the dissimilarities, but she wisely kept her silence. Arguing with Delores was an exercise in futility.
“You have a vested interest, too.”
“What’s my vested interest?” Hannah asked, regretting the question the moment it had left her lips.
“Rhonda’s last meal was a piece of your Lemon Meringue Pie. If that’s not a vested interest, I don’t know what is! You have to help me investigate. It’s your duty.”
“But you told me you didn’t want me to investigate any more murders.”
“That’s perfectly true. It’s not the sort of thing I want my daughter involved in, but these are extenuating circumstances. I’ll run the investigation and you can just help me.” Delores took a bite of her cookie and chewed thoughtfully. “What do you think we should do first?”
Hide under the bed until this blows over? Lock ourselves in a cell to save Mike and Bill the trouble of doing it later? Hannah bit her tongue hard to keep from voicing any of her thou
ghts.
“I think we should make a list of the people who wanted Rhonda dead. That’s the logical place to start. Get out your notebook, dear.”
Hannah reached for one of the blank steno pads she kept handy. There was no way she was getting involved in Rhonda’s murder investigation, but Delores didn’t seem capable of taking no for an answer and it couldn’t hurt to write down what her mother dictated. “Okay. I’m ready.”
“Write down Norman.”
“Norman?!” Hannah was so startled her pen dug a little hole in the page. “Why would Norman want Rhonda dead?”
“Because he bought her house. If he thought he paid too much for it, he would have been mad enough to kill her.”
“That doesn’t fly, Mother. Norman told me he made Rhonda a lowball offer and he got the house at a steal.”
Delores frowned slightly and it was clear she wasn’t happy about Hannah’s revelation. “If you say so, dear. The house wasn’t the motive then, but it doesn’t mean that Norman didn’t kill her. It’s motive, means, and opportunity…isn’t that right?”
“It’s right enough for the cop shows.”
“That’s good enough for me. Norman had the opportunity. He knew that Rhonda was going out there over the weekend to pick up some mementos.”
“That’s true,” Hannah said, but she set down her pen. “I agree that Norman had the opportunity, but how about the means? I’m not even sure Norman owns a knife.”
“He could have bought one. They’ve got all sorts of knives at Lake Eden Hardware. And since Norman has medical training, he would have known exactly how to stab Rhonda.”
Hannah laughed. She couldn’t help it. The thought of Norman as a mad killer wielding a knife he’d just purchased was ridiculous. “Norman’s a dentist. If he’d used his medical knowledge to kill Rhonda, he would have shot her full of Xylocaine or something like that.”
“You’ve got a point.” Delores sighed deeply. “That’s all right. I didn’t really think Norman did it anyway. We’d better move on to someone else.”
“Who?”
“Rhonda’s boyfriend. Couples always have a reason to kill each other, especially if it’s a passionate relationship.”
Hannah picked up her pen. She was still determined not to get involved, but the idea of a boyfriend had definite possibilities. “Okay, who is he?”
“I don’t know.”
That stopped Hannah cold for a moment. “But you think Rhonda had one?”
“All that flirting must have amounted to something. Rhonda tried to entice every man that walked into the drugstore.”
Hannah nodded, glad that her mother hadn’t gotten wind of Rhonda’s flirtation with Bill. It had happened less than a year ago when Hannah and Bill had gone to Rhonda’s cosmetic counter to ask her about a lipstick mark that had been part of the evidence in Bill’s first murder case. All the while they’d asked questions, Rhonda had flirted with Bill outrageously. When Hannah had mentioned it later, Bill had brushed it off. He’d said that Rhonda always flirted with the guys and it didn’t really mean anything.
“A flirt isn’t necessarily any more than that,” Hannah reminded her mother. “Rhonda might have run for the hills if a man had tried anything.”
“Don’t be silly, dear. I’m positive that Rhonda had a boyfriend.”
“How do you know?”
“It’s deductive reasoning. Bertie told me that Rhonda had a standing appointment to have her roots touched up. And a woman doesn’t have her hair colored unless she’s trying to look younger for a man.”
“Really?” Hannah’s eyes narrowed and she eyed her mother closely. At the time of her father’s funeral, her mother’s dark hair had been sprinkled with gray.
Delores noticed Hannah’s expression and she colored slightly. “Of course there could be other reasons. Rhonda might have wanted to look good for her job. As a matter of fact, I have Bertie touch up my hair every month or so. It makes me look more professional.”
“Right,” Hannah said, accepting her mother’s excuse at face value. There was no way she wanted to consider the possibility that her mother had a love life.
“I’m almost positive that Rhonda was involved with someone. There was just too much gossip and where there’s smoke, there’s fire. Everyone was talking about Rhonda and the UPS man a while back. Of course I didn’t pay much attention to it. I don’t approve of gossip.”
Hannah did her best to keep a straight face. Delores had called her with the story about Rhonda and the UPS man the moment it had hit the telephone wires. “Do you want me to write down the UPS man?”
“Just put down a question mark. I’ll know what it means.”
Hannah made a big question mark and underlined it. “We only have one suspect and that’s a question mark. Who else do you want to add?”
“I’m not sure. I’ll call you later when I’ve had a chance to think about it.” Delores slid off the stool and headed for the door. “You don’t have to be anything except my sounding board, dear. Since you told Mike you wouldn’t get involved, I’ll solve Rhonda’s murder all by myself.”
“Do you really think you can do it?” Hannah couldn’t resist asking.
“Of course. I’m an intelligent woman and I love solving puzzles. I’ll find out who killed Rhonda. Trust me.”
Hannah stared at the door as it closed behind Delores. In her experience, only people who didn’t know what they were doing said “trust me.” Perhaps she was grossly underestimating her mother’s crime-solving abilities, but Hannah had doubts about trusting the woman whose VCR had been flashing twelve A.M. for the past four years.
“I still can’t believe she’s dead,” Lisa said, reaching into her purse and pulling out her car keys. It was already five-thirty and she’d stayed an extra half hour to help Hannah finish mixing up dough for the next morning. “Did you know it was Rhonda when you told me about it?”
“I suspected it was, but I didn’t want to say until they made a positive identification.”
“And you’re still not going to investigate?”
Hannah shook her head. “Mike and Bill don’t need me and I have things of my own to do.”
“Well…if you change your mind, I’ll take over the workload.”
“Thanks, Lisa.” Hannah flashed her a smile. “Now get out of here so you have time to change clothes before your date.”
Once Lisa had left, Hannah rinsed off the things they’d used and stacked them in the industrial dishwasher. The brochure that had come with the dishwasher claimed that there was no need for pre-rinsing, but old habits died hard. She was about to pour in the detergent when there was a knock at the back door.
“Hannah?” Norman’s voice carried through the door. “I need to talk to you for a minute.”
Hannah set the detergent on the counter and hurried to the door to let him in. “Hi, Norman. I just ditched the last of the coffee, but I can offer you a cookie.”
“No, thanks. I gained some weight and I’m trying to take it off. No more snacking between meals.”
Hannah eyed Norman closely. He didn’t look like he’d gained an ounce. “How many pounds are we talking about here?”
“Three.”
Hannah came very close to losing it. Three pounds were hardly worth going on a diet. She had almost seven times more to lose.
“What?” Norman asked. “You look angry about something.”
“That’s because I have more weight to lose than you do. And I’m not really angry. This is my regular I’m-on-a-diet expression.”
“Why are you dieting? You look great to me.”
“You’re not just saying that?”
“I never just say anything. And I think people should look real, not like fashion models.”
“But you think the models are attractive, don’t you?”
Norman shrugged. “Sure. But I wouldn’t want to date one, if that’s what you mean.”
“Why? They’re really glamorous.”
“I
know, but that’s not a big selling point for me. I think women should look like…well…women. They shouldn’t look like starving teenagers.”
Hannah found herself feeling better by the minute. Perhaps she wasn’t that overweight after all. Both Lisa and Norman had said that they didn’t think she had to lose weight.
“I came to ask a favor, Hannah.” Norman abruptly switched gears. “Mother called earlier and I know the body in the basement was Rhonda. I want you to investigate her murder.”
Hannah blinked. Norman really ought to beep when he reversed directions like that. “Why do you want me to investigate?”
“Because you’re good at it. And because I have a vested interest.”
Hannah sighed. Not the vested interest thing again! Norman was echoing her mother’s reasoning. “Is it because you saw Rhonda’s body and you feel a certain obligation?”
“Not really. It’s just that the sheriff’s department roped off the whole house as a crime scene and they won’t let me tear it down until the case is solved. I’ve got the demolition crew coming on Saturday and I really hate to cancel. Maybe it’s selfish of me, but I’m on a tight time schedule. If I don’t start building before winter comes, I’ll have to wait until the spring.”
Hannah felt her stress level rise and she squelched the urge to grab a cookie. Her mother wanted her to investigate and now Norman was climbing on that bandwagon. What was a girl to do?
“Mike and Bill don’t want me involved,” Hannah said, not meeting Norman’s eyes. Her excuse sounded weak, even to her.
“That’s never stopped you before. Come on, Hannah. I’m asking you as a friend. After all, it’s our dream house.”
“I know,” Hannah said. It was their dream house and a little digging around could do nothing but help Mike and Bill. She loved the blueprints they’d made together and she wanted to see their house built almost as much as Norman did.
