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

by Joanne Fluke

  “That’s true. I heard they fixed some of the windows.”

  “That fits with what Jed told us. He says he remembers taking off his cap while he was replacing one of the basement windows and he must have forgotten it down there.”

  “And you believe that?”

  “It checks out. We took another look at the crime scene photos and the window that Jed said he replaced still had the sticker on the glass.”

  “Too bad,” Hannah said with a sigh.

  “What’s the matter? Don’t you like Jed?”

  “It’s not that I don’t like him. It’s just that…I’m not sure he’s a good influence on Freddy.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s probably nothing.”

  Mike gave her a stern look. “Spit it out, Hannah. It’s not like you to beat around the bush.”

  “I think Jed’s pushing Freddy too hard and giving him ideas he can’t handle.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like trading in his mother’s car for a truck and going out to attract girls. Freddy idolizes Jed and he wants his approval. He’ll do anything Jed says and that worries me.” Hannah thought back to her conversation with Jed and that gave her an idea. “Would you check out something for me?”

  “Maybe. Does it have anything to do with the murder investigation?”

  “No, I’m just curious. Jed said that he worked on the maintenance crew at the prison and he made a point of telling me that he was a civilian worker. I don’t have any reason to think he’s lying, but there’s something about Jed I don’t quite trust.”

  “That was my impression. I’ll find out if he was an inmate. Which prison?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t ask. But since he said the prison, instead of a prison, I’m assuming it’s in Minnesota.”

  “Okay. I’ll get on it first thing in the morning.”

  “Thanks, Mike.” Hannah smiled at him. “Would you excuse me for a minute?”

  “Sure. Shall I order you an after-dinner drink?”

  “No, thanks. More coffee would be nice, though. I need to keep up my energy level and I’m running about a gallon short.”

  Hannah left Mike sitting at the table and headed toward the entrance of the dining room. It was time to check out the restaurant’s takeout menu and see if anyone remembered who’d picked up the containers of osso buco that had landed in Rhonda’s garbage.

  The hostess was at her post by the entrance. Hannah put on a friendly smile as she approached. “I notice that you have osso buco on the menu and that’s my mother’s favorite. Does Alfredo’s do takeout?”

  “Yes, and we alternate our entrées.” The hostess returned Hannah’s smile. “Osso buco is available every Friday evening from six to eight. You have to call in advance with your order.”

  “That’s reasonable. I’ll bet Friday nights are popular for takeout.”

  “No, it’s actually our slowest night. Hold on a minute and I’ll show you what I mean.”

  Hannah held her smile as the hostess flipped through pages on a clipboard. She was close to getting the information she wanted, but she wasn’t quite there yet.

  “Here you go.” The hostess tapped a perfectly manicured nail on the page she’d chosen. “Six orders of osso buco. That’s all we sold last Friday, but I know we ran out in the kitchen. That means most people came out here and ordered it from the menu.”

  Hannah was impressed. “Your system is very efficient. You actually keep the names of the people who ordered takeout?”

  “We have to. It’s my job to make sure the takeout goes to the proper person at the time they specified. See? Three people ordered takeout, two orders apiece.”

  Hannah blessed the fact that she could read upside down. She’d first learned that skill when Andrea was a child and used to sit facing her with a schoolbook. When Andrea had faltered over a word, Hannah had taught herself to read it upside down, so she wouldn’t have to move. And that just went to prove that laziness sometimes paid off.

  “Would you like one of our takeout menus?”

  “I’d like several.” Hannah accepted the printed menus the hostess gave her. “I’ll call in on Friday and order osso buco for my mother and her friends.”

  “Not this Friday. We’re closed for the Fourth.”

  “Right,” Hannah said. She’d been so intent on tracking down the takeout dinners, she’d forgotten all about the holiday. “I’ll call in next Friday. Thanks for the information.”

  Hannah gave the hostess a parting smile and headed off to the ladies room. Once there, she pulled her steno pad out of her purse and jotted down the names from the takeout list. The first was Ken Purvis, Jordan High’s principal. Hannah really had to stretch her imagination to imagine Ken as Rhonda’s boyfriend. The second was Gil Surma, the high school counselor, and that also seemed impossible. The third name was even more unlikely because it was Reverend Knudson. He wasn’t married, but he lived with his grandmother. Hannah supposed that Rhonda could have been referring to Priscilla Knudson when she’d made her comment about not being able to marry unless there was a funeral. Mrs. Knudson had suffered a stroke only weeks before the Goetz’s New Year’s Eve party and Rhonda’d had no way of knowing she’d completely recover. Finding out which of the three men was involved with Rhonda would take time, but there was a pay phone in the ladies room and there was no time like the present to start narrowing the field.

  Bonnie Surma, Gil’s wife, answered on the first ring. Hannah fixed a smile on her face—she’d heard that telemarketers used this technique to sound friendly—and took a deep breath. “Hi, Bonnie. It’s Hannah Swensen. I’m out here at Alfredo’s Ristorante and…”

  “Take my advice and order their osso buco,” Bonnie interrupted her. “Gil picked it up for us on Friday night and it was marvelous.”

  Hannah’s phony smile turned into a real grin. If Gil had taken osso buco home to Bonnie, he wasn’t Rhonda’s boyfriend.

  “Friday was our anniversary and Gil wanted to do something special. I didn’t feel like getting dressed up and going out, so he ordered dinner and brought it home.”

  “That was sweet of him,” Hannah said, scrounging for a pen in the bottom of her purse and crossing Gil’s name off her suspect list.

  “It would have been sweeter if he hadn’t left for a meeting right after dinner, but even a good marriage can’t be perfection. Gil and I rub along very well together.”

  Perfection. Rub along very well. Hannah came close to chuckling. Bonnie must have been at the same Lake Eden Regency Romance Club meeting as Delores.

  “Did you need something, Hannah? Gil’s at a city council meeting. He said he’d call before he left for home, so I need to keep the line free.”

  “Uh…yes. Yes, I did.” Hannah thought fast. She should have had an excuse for her call all prepared. “Tracey was talking about joining the Brownies the other day. She wanted to know how old she had to be.”

  “I’m glad Tracey’s so interested. She’s still too young, but I’ll mail a packet to Andrea tomorrow with the guidelines.”

  “Thanks, Bonnie. That’s all I needed. I’ll let you go.” Hannah hung up the phone and let out a relieved sigh. She liked Bonnie and Gil and she was glad that Rhonda hadn’t been a threat to their marriage.

  The next name on Hannah’s list was Kenneth Purvis. Hannah had trouble visualizing Jordan High’s principal, a man whose most notable habit was polishing his glasses, in a steamy embrace with Rhonda, but she couldn’t discount the possibility. Ken had picked up two orders of osso buco on Friday night.

  Hannah had learned her lesson from Bonnie. She needed a good excuse for her call. When Ken or his wife, Kathy, answered, she’d ask about the community outreach night classes Jordan High was planning to hold in the fall. There had been an article about it last week in the Lake Eden Journal. She could pretend to be interested in signing up for basket weaving, or fly casting, or something like that.

  Hannah looked up the number and dialed. T
he phone rang several times and then their answering machine clicked on. Rather than leave a message, Hannah hung up and turned to the third name on the list, Reverend Knudson.

  “Redeemer Lutheran,” Reverend Knudson’s grandmother answered on the second ring.

  “Hi, Mrs. Knudson. It’s Hannah Swensen.”

  “Hello, Hannah.” Mrs. Knudson sounded pleased to hear from her. “The reverend isn’t home right now, but I can take a message and have him call you in the morning.”

  “That’s okay. Maybe you can help. I meant to call earlier, but I forgot. I’m out here at Alfredo’s Ristorante. Have you ever had their osso buco?”

  “No, but it’s one of my favorite dishes.”

  “Maybe your grandson could pick it up as takeout for you,” Hannah said, hoping to solicit more information. It was obvious that Reverend Knudson hadn’t taken osso buco to his grandmother, but he’d left Alfredo’s last Friday night with two takeout orders. “They have it on their menu every Friday night.”

  “You might know it would be Fridays!” Priscilla Knudson gave an exasperated sigh. “The reverend is always gone on Friday nights. Church-related meetings, you know.”

  “Of course,” Hannah said, drawing a circle around Reverend Knudson’s name. If he’d gone to a church-related meeting on Friday night, she was willing to bet he hadn’t arrived with two orders of takeout osso buco from Alfredo’s Ristorante.

  “You said earlier that you thought I might be able to help you. With what, Hannah?”

  Mrs. Knudson’s question brought Hannah back from her speculations and she launched into the excuse she’d prepared. “I heard about the bake sale Redeemer Lutheran is holding on Saturdays and I wanted to contribute something. How about a box of cookies?”

  “Why, that would be lovely, Hannah. I’m sure the reverend will be delighted. Can we count on you for this Saturday?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Hannah smiled as she hung up the phone. A box of free cookies was a small price to pay for the information Priscilla Knudson had given her. She’d eliminated Gil Surma and she had yet to reach Principal Purvis, but Reverend Knudson had just jumped to the top of her suspect list.

  Chapter

  Fourteen

  H annah glanced at her watch in the light from Mike’s dashboard as they came over the crest of a long steep hill and neared the Quick Stop. They still had almost fifteen minutes before Michelle’s bus was due to arrive. “Let’s park on the side and go in. I want to see how my cookies are doing for Sean and Ron.”

  Mike pulled into a spot at the side of the building and shut off his engine. “We can go in, but I already know your cookies are selling really well.”

  “How do you know that? Did you ask Sean and Ron?”

  “I didn’t have to ask. The guys at the station used to stop for doughnuts and coffee on their way to work, but now they bring in coffee and your cookies. Nobody buys doughnuts anymore.”

  “Thanks for telling me.” Hannah was pleased. She’d started to supply the Quick Stop with cookies several months ago and the volume of their orders had been steadily increasing. That was a good sign, but she hadn’t been sure if Sean and Ron were selling more cookies, or just eating more of them.

  “You can go in if you want to.” Mike turned to smile at her. “I’ll stay here and meet Michelle if her bus comes in early.”

  Hannah laughed. “Thanks, but that won’t work.”

  “Why not?”

  “You’ve never met Michelle. You don’t even know what she looks like.”

  “Yes, I do. There’s a picture of the three of you on the mantel over your fireplace. I recognized Andrea and you, so I figured Michelle had to be the one in the middle with the brown hair.”

  Hannah was impressed, even though she knew Mike had been trained to notice things. “You’re right, but that’s an old picture. You might not recognize her now.”

  “She can’t be that different. Her hair could be another color and she could have gained or lost weight, but her basic bone structure is the same. I’ll spot her. You don’t have to worry about that.”

  Hannah began to grin. “I guess any cop who can recognize a suspect from his DMV picture wouldn’t have much trouble with an old family photo.”

  “That’s right.” Mike lowered his window, looked out for a moment, and then he turned to grin at her. “It’s a good thing you didn’t go inside. Here comes the bus now.”

  Hannah glanced out his window, but all she saw was an empty road. “Where? I don’t see anything.”

  “You’ll see it when it comes over the hill.”

  “Who do you think you are?” Hannah asked, eyeing him with some amusement. “Supercop with x-ray vision?”

  “No, but I might try out for Supercop with subsonic hearing.”

  “You heard the bus?”

  “That’s right. A diesel engine’s got a certain high-pitched whine to it. On a still night it’ll carry for a long way.”

  Hannah stared at him, but he didn’t seem to be putting her on. “Okay, I believe you even though I’ve met the bus lots of times and I never heard a whine.”

  “You probably wouldn’t notice.”

  “Because it’s a cop thing?”

  “No, it’s a trucker thing. My father was an owner-operator and I drove most of his short runs every summer. It gets boring, driving the same route day after day. I looked for ways to amuse myself and I started concentrating on the sounds trucks make. I got so good, I could tell a Peterbilt from a Kenworth a quarter-mile away.”

  Hannah had been aware of a low rumbling noise while Mike spoke and it had increased in volume. Her eyes widened as a Greyhound bus crested the hill and began its descent. “You were right. There’s the bus. I hope Michelle’s trip wasn’t too boring.”

  “I’m sure she found someone to talk to. She’s a very pretty woman.”

  “Girl,” Hannah corrected him. “She’s still a teenager.”

  “Just barely. I’ve known a few nineteen-year-olds. They’d much rather be thought of as young women.”

  “I suppose you’re right.” Hannah gave him a sharp glance as she climbed out of the car. She wanted to know more about the nineteen-year-olds he’d known, but it wasn’t a good idea to ask. Mike didn’t talk about his past very much and he’d already told her about driving his father’s truck. That was enough for one night.

  As they walked, Hannah glanced up at the halogen lights by the bus loading and unloading area. Moths were fluttering around the bulbs in uneven halos, attracted to the hot light despite its danger. As she watched, several fell back down to the pavement and were crushed under the feet of the people who had gathered to meet the bus.

  Mike found a spot near the front of the crowd and Hannah stood close to his side. He reached out to take her arm and smiled down at her. “Are you excited about seeing her again?”

  “Yes,” Hannah said, smiling back. There were times when she indulged in a bit of nostalgia, remembering how she’d helped Delores soothe Michelle through bouts of colic when she was a baby, carrying her on mile-long treks around the living room until she’d finally gone to sleep.

  The bus pulled up with a loud snort and a squeal of brakes, spewing out a black plume of what Hannah now knew was diesel exhaust. There was a moment of expectation while the driver flicked on the interior lights and checked something on his clipboard. Then the door opened with a mechanical hiss and a plump woman in a nurse’s uniform climbed down the steps. She was followed by a man carrying a raincoat, a mother with a baby in her arms, and an older gentleman wearing a straw hat.

  There was a long pause as a young man struggled to navigate the steps with a package large enough to contain a tuba. Once he’d successfully disembarked, two teenage girls in jeans and sweaters stepped off the bus.

  Hannah began to frown. There was only one more passenger waiting to get off the bus and it wasn’t Michelle. “Oh-oh. I think she missed the bus.”

  “No, she didn’t. She’s right there at the to
p of the stairs.”

  Hannah gave the woman a second glance. She had bright green streaks in her hair and a tattoo on her left shoulder, an in-your-face rendition of a coiled snake. She was wearing a shiny gold top that was so tight Hannah could see every breath she took, and her red pants were hip-height at the waist, exposing her navel. As far as Hannah could see there was no one standing behind her waiting to get off. “I don’t see her. Where is she?”

  “Right there. With the green hair.”

  Hannah took another look. The apparition was still at the top of the stairs and she appeared to be having trouble with one of her gold, high-heeled tennis shoes. The heel was stuck in the metal grating of the step.

  “That’s not Michelle,” Hannah said, shaking her head.

  “Yes, it is. Watch this.”

  Mike stepped closer to wave at the green-haired woman. “Hi, Michelle. Over here!”

  The woman’s face lit up in a smile and she waved back. “Hi, Hannah! Just a sec. My shoe’s stuck.”

  It was Michelle. Hannah groaned. She knew that college students often followed the newest clothing fads and she’d expected that Michelle might have a slightly different look, but nothing could have prepared her for seeing her baby sister in an outfit that looked like…

  “I’ll go help her,” Mike said, interrupting the thoughts that Hannah didn’t want to think anyway. “Don’t worry. It’s probably just some stage she’s going through.”

  “Some stage,” Hannah muttered, managing somehow to put a welcoming smile on her face. She averted her eyes as Mike bounded forward, wondering if her mother had grounds to sue the college. She’d check with Howie Levine in the morning. Better yet, she’d call him the moment she got home to her condo.

  “Here she is,” Mike announced, arriving at Hannah’s side with Michelle in his arms and her left shoe dangling from his fingers. “I’m going to carry her to the car so she can change shoes. Her luggage is being unloaded right now and there’s only one piece, a pink duffle bag. Can you get it?”