by Joanne Fluke
“Good girl, Hannah!” Delores exclaimed, giving a lighthearted laugh. “I always told you it wasn’t smart to wear your heart on your sleeve.”
Hannah knew she should leave well enough alone, but she couldn’t resist. “Andrea did and it worked for her. Everyone knew she was crazy about Bill.”
“That’s different. They were young and he gave her his class ring when she was a senior. That made them pre-engaged. And after that, they were recognized as a couple, and everyone expected them to get married. It’s really not fair to compare your current situation with your sister’s. Andrea never dated two men at the same time.”
Hannah clamped her mouth shut and didn’t say a word. She happened to know that her sister had dated two boys in high school who’d never known about each other. It was obvious that Delores hadn’t known about them either, and Hannah wasn’t going to be the one to tell her.
“I’ve got to run, dear. I’m starting to crack.”
“Crack?”
“My face. I’m giving myself a facial and my fifteen minutes are up. If I don’t wash it off now, I’ll have to peel it. Goodnight, dear.”
When she’d hung up the phone, Hannah glanced at Moishe, who’d been listening to her conversation. His tail was swishing back and forth, his ears were back, and he’d puffed up into attack mode. Hannah grinned and reached out to smooth his fur. “It’s okay. I hung up and I don’t have to talk to her again tonight.”
But Moishe wasn’t that easily soothed. His tail continued to flick and he regarded her with baleful eyes.
“Come on, Moishe.” Hannah reached out for him again. “If you come closer, I’ll scratch your ears.”
Moishe regarded her solemnly for several seconds and then he moved to the far side of the couch, putting as much space between them as possible.
“I’m not the enemy here, Moishe. As a matter of fact, I saved you from seeing Mother tonight. She offered to pick me up here and take me to dinner. If I’d agreed to that, she might have come in when she brought me home. Think about it. You would have hated that!”
Hannah wasn’t sure what went on in a cat’s mind, but Moishe seemed to take it all in. He stared at her for several seconds and then he turned around, inching forward until his head was resting in her lap.
“That’s better,” Hannah said, scratching his ears and earning a rumble for her efforts. “I knew you’d see it my way. Aren’t you glad I have my own wheels and I can drive myself? I don’t have to rely on…”
When Hannah stopped speaking and scratching his ears, Moishe lifted his head to stare up at her. His expression was as quizzical as a cat’s expression could get.
“I just thought of something,” Hannah told him. “I don’t remember seeing Rhonda’s car at the Voelker place. I know it wasn’t in the driveway when I pulled up, and it couldn’t have been in the garage. I looked through the window and it was filled with firewood.”
Hannah interpreted the expression on Moishe’s face to mean, Yes? So what? and she went on. “If Rhonda drove out there, her car would be there. But if she rode with someone else, her car should be parked in the garage at her apartment building.”
Moishe made a sound, a cross between a yowl and a purr, and Hannah nodded, just as if he’d suggested another possibility. He was a social being and he liked to be included in the conversation. “You’re right, Moishe. The only other possibility is that Rhonda’s car was at the Voelker place and her killer stole it to make his getaway.”
Hannah flipped to a blank page in her notebook and jotted a reminder to check Rhonda’s apartment building for her car. If she found it parked in its assigned spot, her next step would be to canvass the neighbors to see if anyone had seen Rhonda leave.
The phone rang again, just as Hannah finished making her notes. She reached out to answer it and smiled when she recognized Lisa’s voice. “Hi, Lisa. Did you find that list of pie buyers?”
“I’ve got it right here. I’m sorry it’s so late, but I just got home.”
“That’s okay. Did you have a good time?”
“Yes. We went out to the Corner Tavern for a steak and then we dropped in at the bowling alley. They were short a couple of people on one of the teams, so Herb and I filled in.”
“How did you do?”
“Not bad. I averaged one-twenty a game and that’s good for me. When we finished, it was time for Herb’s night rounds and I rode along.”
Hannah knew all about Herb’s night rounds. Unlike Bill and Mike, who were with the county sheriff’s department, Herb Beeseman was on the Lake Eden city payroll. During the day he enforced parking regulations and ticketed drivers who committed driving infractions within the city limits. Two months ago the city council had asked Herb to patrol the business district every evening. Local business owners had given Herb keys to use in case of emergency, and the extra precaution had worked out well. In the two months that Herb had been patrolling at night, he’d spotted a broken faucet in the café that had saved Hal and Rose a massive cleanup, and he’d turned off a smoldering halogen lamp in Stan Kramer’s office.
“It’s usually boring, but tonight we had some excitement,” Lisa went on. “The alarm went off just as we were driving past Granny’s Attic.”
“Mother had a break-in?”
“No. Herb used his key to check out the inside and everything was fine.”
Hannah was puzzled. “Why did the alarm go off if no one broke in?”
“It was the electricity. Remember that pole the owner put up between The Cookie Jar and Granny’s Attic?”
“Of course,” Hannah said. The pole was an eyesore, but the owner had assured them he’d take it down just as soon as Granny’s Attic was rewired.
“The problem is with the circuits. The same circuit that runs your mother’s alarm is the one that runs our freezer and our walk-in cooler. If our cooler and freezer happen to kick in together, there’s a sudden drop in power that triggers the alarm at Granny’s Attic.”
“That doesn’t sound good. Does Herb think it could happen again?”
“It could, but your mother’s taking care of it. Herb just spoke to her and she’s going to call the alarm company in the morning. They’ll send a man out to move her alarm system to a circuit that’s not so heavily loaded.”
“Good. How about our freezer and walk-in cooler? Are they okay?”
“They are now, thanks to Herb. It didn’t affect our freezer at all, but our cooler’s got some kind of internal circuit breaker that shuts it off during a brownout. Herb hit the reset button and it started right up.”
“Tell Herb he’s a doll.”
Lisa laughed. “I’ll tell him. Do you want those names of pie buyers now?”
“Sure.” Hannah reached for her steno pad and a pen. “Okay, I’m ready.”
Lisa read off the names and Hannah wrote them down. No one on the list seemed likely to have given Rhonda a pie, but she thanked Lisa, told her she’d see her in the morning, and hung up the phone. It was past bedtime and morning would come much too soon.
Hannah performed her nightly ritual, making sure the doors were locked and preparing the coffeemaker for its automatic timed brew in the morning. She washed her face, brushed her teeth, and got into the oversized shirt that she wore for a nightgown. She was just about to crawl into bed when the phone rang again.
“Hello?” Hannah answered at bedside, using the shocking-pink Princess phone she’d picked up at the thrift shop. The little light no longer worked, but the phone was still operational.
“Hi, Hannah. It’s me.” Andrea’s voice floated out of the tiny holes in the receiver. “I’m sorry it’s so late, but I didn’t get a chance to call earlier.”
“That’s okay. I wasn’t in bed yet.”
“Good. I made some calls right after I talked to you, but the finer restaurants weren’t open yet. I hit pay dirt about an hour ago, but Bill came home and I didn’t want to call you until he went to bed.”
“What did you find out?”
/> “It’s Alfredo’s Ristorante. That’s the new place out at the lake. They served osso buco for takeout on Friday night.”
“Good job!” Hannah said, jotting down the name. “Thanks, Andrea.”
“No problem. It was easy. What do you want me to do next?”
Hannah thought about the leads she had to follow. “Do you know where Rhonda’s apartment building is?”
“Sure. I’ve got her address in my client file. She lives at the apartment building that Beatrice and Ted Koester bought last year.”
“Could you run over there in the morning and check to see if her car is still in the garage? It would save me a trip.”
“I can do that. What do you want me to do if it’s there?”
“Nothing. Just drop by The Cookie Jar and tell me. We’ll decide what to do about it then.”
“Okay. I’d better get to bed before Bill starts wondering what I’m doing out here. I’ll see you in the morning, Hannah.”
Hannah hung up and opened the bedroom window to catch any night breezes that might blow her way. Then she doused the light to stop the moths from trying to commit suicide against her screen and crawled under the sheet she used as a quilt in the summer. There was a thump, resembling a mini-earthquake, and a furry shape crept up in the near darkness. Hannah grabbed her pillow protectively and glared in his direction. “This pillow is mine. I won’t let you have it until my new one comes.”
There was a rustle and then another thump as Moishe settled down on the other pillow, the foam one she’d designated for his use. Silence filled her bedroom for several moments and then Hannah heard a rumbling purr. She reached out and stroked Moishe’s soft fur three times and pulled her hand back. Experience had taught her that four strokes would cause him to move to the bottom of her bed. Hannah checked to make sure her alarm clock was set correctly and then she seized her pillow in a death grip and closed her eyes, hoping that her arms wouldn’t loosen as she slept so that Moishe could steal it again.
Chapter
Ten
H annah awoke to an inky black bedroom and the infernal electronic beeping of her alarm clock. It took her a minute to sit up and shut it off, but when she did, she realized that her head had been lying on the mattress. She flicked on the light and turned to eye her goose-down pillow. Moishe had commandeered it once again.
Even though she wanted to settle back down for another few minutes of rest, Hannah tossed back the sheet, placed her feet firmly on the floor, and got out of bed. It was a psychological trick she’d learned in college and it worked for those mornings when she was tired and wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep. Once she’d thrown back the covers and was standing by the side of the bed, the task of straightening the bedding to climb back in seemed like more work than starting the day.
Hannah stuffed her feet into her slippers and walked down the hallway to the kitchen. Once she got there, she switched on the light and headed straight for the coffeepot. There was coffee in the carafe and the little red light was glowing. She sent up a short, thankful prayer for modern conveniences and poured her first cup of the day.
The coffee was hot, practically scalding, but Hannah sipped gratefully. Even the kink in her neck seemed to straighten out somewhat with the invigorating infusion of Swedish Plasma. She drank one cup standing, leaning one hip against the counter, and then she poured a second. Her eyes were no longer at half-mast and her brain was beginning to function again.
There was a plaintive yowl from the direction of Moishe’s food bowl and Hannah turned to frown at him. The new pillow couldn’t come soon enough to suit her! Even though her neck was still stiff as a result of Moishe’s nighttime theft, her heart wasn’t hard enough to resist the appeal in his round yellow eyes.
Once Hannah had given Moishe fresh water and filled his bowl with kitty crunchies, she carried her second cup of coffee to the table and opened her steno pad. It was time to organize her day, now while she was still only three-quarters awake. If she waited until she was fully alert, the task would seem daunting.
Hannah glanced at the calendar that hung on the kitchen wall, an exact duplicate of the one in the kitchen at her cookie shop. She had a two o’clock cookie-catering job for the Lake Eden Quilt Society at Trudi’s Fabrics, and a three o’clock at the community center for the Lake Eden Friends of the Library. She jotted those down, then turned to other matters. She had to mail off the rent check for The Cookie Jar, change the batteries on the flashlights she carried in her truck, and buy a bag of lettuce and some sliced low-fat turkey breast for her dinner salad. These were small things, easily accomplished, but they all took time. And somewhere between her trip to the grocery store, her baking, and her catering, she had to find time to investigate Rhonda’s murder.
“Shower time,” Hannah said, glancing at Moishe, who was more concerned with crunching down his breakfast than anything she might have to say. His bowl was still half full, but Moishe was a pessimist. A half-full bowl was half empty to him, and he’d panic if any part of Garfield’s picture on the bottom came into view. Hannah added another scoop for insurance before she headed off to the shower.
In exactly fifteen minutes, Hannah emerged from her bedroom, dressed and ready for her day. She owned three short-sleeved cotton pantsuits that she wore for summer catering jobs and she’d chosen the green one this morning. As she’d pulled on the pants, she’d noticed that they’d felt a bit looser. It was difficult to judge with elastic waists and perhaps it was only wishful thinking on her part, but she really thought her diet was working.
Since she still had a few minutes before she had to leave, Hannah retrieved the steno pad she was using for Rhonda’s case notes and sat back down at the kitchen table. She’d written down what Norman had told her, that Marjorie Hanks had been the one to clean the Voelker place. She’d even thought about calling Luanne’s mother when she’d gotten home last night, but she’d decided that it was too late. Now it was too early. Even if Marjorie rose before sunrise, she wouldn’t appreciate getting a phone call first thing in the morning.
Hannah flipped to the next page. She’d copied the list of pie buyers that Lisa had given her and it was time to go over them again. Perhaps she’d see a connection now that it was morning and she was more alert.
There were ten names. Hannah checked them off one by one. Most were repeat customers, mothers who always came in for pie on Friday to serve it to their families that night. There was no way any of them had given their dinner pie to Rhonda. The two men on the list were easy to eliminate. One lived out at the retirement home and shared Hannah’s pie with his friends. The other was a Jordan High student who took Hannah’s pies to his girlfriend’s mother when he went to her house for Friday night dinners.
Hannah shook her head. There was one name left, Claire Rodgers. And Claire had bought three pies. Hannah stopped to think about that for a moment. Claire was single and she lived alone. If she’d bought three pies, she must have planned to take them somewhere. Was it possible she’d given one of her pies to Rhonda?
Several more sips of idea-generating caffeine and Hannah had come up with a possible scenario. What if Rhonda had gone into Claire’s shop on Friday afternoon to purchase a new wardrobe for her trip? If Claire had already picked up her pies, Rhonda might have seen them and mentioned that she liked lemon meringue. Claire might have given one pie to Rhonda as a thank-you, especially if Rhonda had just spent a lot of money on clothes.
Hannah knew her scenario was reasonable. It could have happened that way. She’d drop by Beau Monde the first chance she got and ask Claire if she was right.
The sky was beginning to lighten by the time Hannah turned into the alley behind The Cookie Jar, but she didn’t turn off her headlights. They were still necessary to distinguish the dark blobs of the Dumpsters from the darker blobs of the buildings.
Hannah parked in her spot and shut the windows, but she left an inch gap on the driver’s side to defeat the greenhouse effect. She grabbed the old beach t
owel she kept on the passenger’s seat, folded it twice because it was so threadbare, and draped it over the steering wheel. The seats in her truck didn’t get that hot. They were upholstered in fabric. But her steering wheel was covered in black vinyl and it soaked up the sun. All would be well if she’d wear oven mitts to drive, but she didn’t.
As Hannah stepped out of her truck, the air hit her like a tangible force. She’d never really thought about air having weight before, but this air was like walking through invisible pudding. It was so heavy with moisture, the humidity had to be close to the hundred-percent mark.
The first thing Hannah did when she stepped inside her kitchen was switch on the air conditioning. The next thing she did was to check to see if the cooler was running. It was, and she heaved a big sigh of relief as she carried out the bowls of cookie dough and set them on the surface of the workstation. She had the urge to drag a stool into the cooler and sit there for a while, but there was work to do and she didn’t have time. She fired up her ovens, clamped one of the little paper caps mandated by the health board over her unruly red curls, and washed her hands thoroughly. Then she tied on an apron and got right to work. There were multiple batches of cookies to bake and she wanted to finish before Lisa came in. Her partner had enough work to do waiting on their customers, taking phone orders, and boxing up cookies for special orders.
Just as she’d planned, Hannah had finished the baking when Lisa arrived. Racks of cooling Black and Whites, Oatmeal Raisin Crisps, and Twin Chocolate Delights filled the kitchen, and other varieties of cookies were already in the glass jars they used for display behind the coffee shop counter.
“You’ve been busy!” Lisa exclaimed, glancing around her. “How many did you snitch?”
“None. I didn’t even taste the Cinnamon Crisps and that’s my newest recipe.”
“Where did you get it?” Lisa asked, reaching for one and taking a bite.
“I made it up. My dad used to make us cinnamon toast for breakfast when Mother was out antiquing. I thought that cookies with the same taste would be good.”
