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

by Joanne Fluke

  “What did you think when you searched the house and you couldn’t find Rhonda?” Hannah asked.

  “I figured one of her friends had seen the lights, dropped by to see her, and given her a lift home. Or maybe she’d walked out to the road and flagged someone down. Those were the only explanations I could think of.”

  “So you didn’t think there was anything wrong when Rhonda wasn’t there at the house?”

  “Not really. I did think it was a little odd that she’d left on the lights, but Rhonda tended to storm off when she was mad and I thought she’d just forgotten to turn them off. It was wasting electricity since there was no one there, and—” Ken’s voice trailed off and he took another sip of water “—I turned them off and left. I didn’t know about Rhonda then.”

  “I understand. Where did you go after you left the Voelker place?”

  “I drove to the Quick Stop to get some gas, and then I went to the Corner Tavern for a burger and fries.”

  Hannah closed her steno pad, shoved it back into her purse, and got to her feet. “That’s all I need for now. Thanks for being honest with me, Ken.”

  “Wait a second.” A look of panic crossed Ken’s face. “You don’t think that I killed Rhonda, do you?”

  “Of course I don’t. And there’s a way you can prove it right now if you want me to clear you completely.”

  “I do! What do you need? Telephone records so you can prove I went home to call Kathy? My gas receipt from the Quick Stop?”

  “Those wouldn’t do it, but your bursitis will.”

  “It will? How?”

  “Just call Doc Knight and have him verify that your bursitis was acting up on Friday.”

  “I can do that. I’ll call him right now.” Ken reached for the phone and punched in a series of numbers.

  While Ken explained what he needed to Doc Knight, Hannah glanced around his inner sanctum. There was an array of Jordan High graduation class photos that ran the length of three walls, one for every year since the school had been built. She found hers and grimaced slightly as she saw her younger face. No doubt the photographer had told them to say “cheese” because she was smiling so widely, she had chipmunk cheeks.

  “Here, Hannah,” Ken said, handing her the phone. “I told Doc Knight to give you any information you needed.”

  Hannah took the phone and leaned across the desk, so the cord wouldn’t stretch out too much. “Hi, Doc.”

  “Hello, Hannah. Ken says you need to know about his bursitis. When I saw him last Friday, it was in an acute stage and his range of motion was severely limited.”

  “How limited?”

  “He couldn’t raise his right arm any higher than his waist and his left arm was even worse. You’re working on Rhonda’s murder?”

  “That’s right.”

  “You should have asked me before you put Ken through the wringer. Even if he’d been mad as blazes, there’s no way he could have stabbed Rhonda. She was standing with her back turned to her assailant at the time and they’re approximately the same height.”

  “Would it work if she was standing in the hole?”

  “No. The angle would be wrong. Take him off your list, Hannah. Ken’s not your man.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. Thanks, Doc. You’ve been a big help.”

  Hannah hung up and turned to smile at Ken. “Okay. Doc Knight says you couldn’t have done it. You’re in the clear.”

  “Then nobody has to hear about my…uh…relationship with Rhonda?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Hannah said as she headed for the door. “I was just here to check some old school records that you were kind enough to find for me.”

  Chapter

  Eighteen

  B usiness was brisk when Hannah got back to The Cookie Jar. After she had stashed her vanilla and chocolate ice cream in the freezer, she managed a brief private word with Lisa. She said nothing to tarnish the image of Lisa’s former principal and she certainly didn’t mention his liaison with Rhonda. She just said that she’d needed to check some old school records and that Ken had been very helpful.

  It didn’t take long to mix up a batch of Pecan Chews and in less than an hour they were baked and cooling on the racks. Hannah was about to soften the ice cream to make the sandwiches when Freddy Sawyer knocked on the back door.

  “Come in, Freddy,” Hannah invited. “Have a cookie or two.”

  “Thanks, Hannah. I love your cookies. They’re almost as good as the ones my mom used to bake.”

  Hannah took that as a compliment. As she remembered, Mrs. Sawyer had made very good cookies. She poured a glass of milk for Freddy, set two cookies on a napkin for him, and waited until he had finished munching.

  “I wish I knew how to bake,” Freddy said, wiping his mouth with the napkin. “Miss Cox promised to teach me, but I’m too busy helping Jed right now. We’re making real good money. Did you know that?”

  “I know.”

  “Did you see my new watch?” Freddy pointed down at the watch on his wrist. “Jed bought it for me this morning and it cost almost ten dollars. It was in the window and the girl climbed in to get it for me. She said it was a sports watch. I don’t play sports, but that’s okay, isn’t it?”

  “That’s fine. Lots of people who don’t play sports wear sports watches.”

  “Why is that?”

  Hannah shrugged. She’d never really thought about that before. “I’m not sure, but I think it’s because they’re more rugged.”

  “I like that answer.” Freddy smiled widely. “Jed’s always after me to be more rugged. He thinks I should stand up for myself if somebody teases me, and he’s even teaching me to fight.”

  Hannah wasn’t sure she liked that idea. She was sure that Freddy could defend himself in a pinch quite well enough already. But it was a chance to ask a few questions about Freddy’s cousin. “Does Jed know how to fight?”

  “You betcha! Jed told me he once licked a guy twice his size. Put him right in the hospital. I don’t understand how being licked could put you in the hospital, though. Mrs. Cox’s dogs lick me all the time and it doesn’t hurt me any.”

  “That’s true, but what I think Jed means is…” Hannah paused, trying to think of a way to explain slang usage to Freddy.

  “Oh, gosh! I forgot the time!” Freddy glanced down at his new watch and sighed. “I’d like to stay and talk to you more, but I have to meet Jed at the café in fifteen minutes.”

  Hannah remembered what Lisa had told her about Janice Cox teaching Freddy to tell time. It seemed he had the concept down pat. “That watch is going to come in really handy for you, Freddy.”

  “I know. I was careful to pick out the one with hands instead of just numbers. That’s the one I learned how to do.”

  Freddy stood up and headed for the door, but Hannah stopped him. “Was there something you needed, Freddy? Or did you just come in to say hello?”

  “Oh, boy! I guess Jed is right and I really am a dunce!” Freddy thunked his forehead with the heel of his hand. “It just went clean out of my head, Hannah. I wanted you to save something for me. Will you?”

  “Sure,” Hannah said, guessing that it was a rock or some little object Freddy had come across in his handyman work.

  “I’ve got it right here. Be real careful of it. It’s precious.” Freddy pulled a battered shoebox out of his backpack and handed it to Hannah.

  Hannah accepted the box gingerly. It was tied up with twine and it didn’t look too clean. “It’s not alive, is it?”

  “No.” Freddy gave a little laugh. “And it’s not a sandwich, either. It won’t spoil.”

  “Good. Can you tell me what it is?”

  “It’s something Jed lost. I found it in the trash right before the garbage truck came. I’m going to shine it all up and give it to him for a present. Boy, will he be surprised!”

  “That’s nice,” Hannah said, wondering if Jed would appreciate getting something he’d thrown away as a present. “Whe
re do you want me to keep it?”

  Freddy glanced around and then he pointed to the walk-in cooler. “How about in there? Nobody will find it there.”

  “Okay. Come with me.” Hannah carried the box to the cooler and opened the door. She stepped in and Freddy followed her inside. “I’ll put it right here, on the shelf behind the milk cartons.”

  Freddy nodded, watching while Hannah removed the cartons and slipped the shoebox in the back. “That’s real good, Hannah. Nobody’ll see it there.”

  “Just tell me when you want it back and I’ll get it for you,” Hannah said, leading Freddy to the door.

  “Okay. Thanks, Hannah. Good friends are like sunshine. A day is gloomy without them.” Hannah turned to give Freddy a quizzical look and he grinned. “Mom used to say that. She had a lot of friends and she said they were my friends, too.”

  Hannah had just finished mixing up the next day’s cookies and stashing them in the cooler when Lisa came into the kitchen waving a ten-dollar bill.

  “Look at this, Hannah. There’s something funny about it.”

  “Funny ha-ha, or funny peculiar?” Hannah asked, repeating the words of Mrs. Carlson, her third-grade teacher.

  “Funny peculiar. You must have had Mrs. Carlson, too.” Lisa gave a little laugh. “Just look at it, Hannah. I’ve never seen an old one that’s this new before.”

  Hannah walked over to take a look and she didn’t point out the inconsistency in Lisa’s statement. The issue date was nineteen seventy-four, but the old-style bill was crisp and clean, and it looked as if it had just been minted. “That is strange.”

  “Do you think it’s counterfeit?”

  “It could be. We’d better ask at the bank.” Hannah glanced up at the clock on the kitchen wall. It was past three and the bank would be closed, but Doug Greerson, the president of First National Mercantile, stayed in his office until five. “I’ll run over and check with Doug. Do you have any idea who gave it to you?”

  Lisa looked a little worried. “I think it was your sister.”

  “Andrea?”

  “No, Michelle. She stopped by while you were having lunch with Norman and bought a half-dozen Short Stack Cookies to take to her friend’s house. The only reason I remember was that we were running short on fives and I had to give her all one-dollar bills in change.”

  Hannah frowned as she looked down at the bill. “If Michelle had it, it could have come from the Twin Cities area. I’m going out to the cottage tonight to have dinner with the family. If Doug says it’s counterfeit, I’ll ask Michelle if she remembers where she got it.”

  Doug Greerson looked surprised to see Hannah standing outside the front door of the bank and holding up a ten-dollar bill. He motioned for her to wait a moment, then walked back to a keypad that was partially hidden from her view. After he’d entered some numbers, he came back to the door and unlocked it, a lengthy procedure that involved several complicated locks.

  “Thanks, Doug.” Hannah stepped in, waving the bill. “This came into the shop this afternoon. Lisa and I both think it looks funny peculiar.”

  Doug chuckled. “Mrs. Carlson, third grade. I’ll never forget her for that. Go on back to my office and make yourself comfortable. I’ll be there as soon as I reset the alarm. There’s some coffee in the pot. It’s a combination of Columbian, Guatemalan, Brazilian, and Sumatran.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “It is. It’s darkly roasted, heavy-bodied, and it has a smooth finish.”

  “I’ll have to taste that,” Hannah said with a grin as she walked back to Doug’s office. He’d discovered gourmet coffees at Christmas when his wife, Diana, had given him a sample pack of beans and an electric coffee grinder.

  Doug’s coffeepot was spotless, a sharp contrast to the one in Jon Walker’s office. Hannah had just poured herself a cup and taken one of the chairs in front of the desk when Doug came in.

  “So what do you think of the coffee?” he asked.

  Hannah took a sip and smiled. “It’s really good.”

  “Just wait until next week. I ordered a shipment of Blue Mountain from Zabar’s in New York. It’s supposed to be the finest coffee in the world.”

  “It’d have to go some to beat this,” Hannah declared and took another sip. “Take a look at this bill, Doug.”

  Doug took the bill Hannah handed him, switched on his halogen desk lamp, and took what looked like a jeweler’s loupe from his desk drawer. He examined the bill for several moments and then he shook his head. “It’s not counterfeit.”

  “But look at the date. It says nineteen seventy-four. Don’t you think it’s odd that it looks so new?”

  “Not really. Somebody could have kept it in a safe deposit box or under a mattress all these years. And sometimes people just like to save money in mint condition.”

  “You mean collectors?”

  “There’s nothing collectible about this bill, but it could have been some sort of a keepsake, framed and put under glass. When people give money as a gift, they usually come in to get new bills.”

  Hannah nodded and reached out to take back her bill.

  “What’s the matter?” Doug asked her. “You look a little disappointed.”

  “Lisa and I thought maybe we’d stumbled onto a counterfeiting ring. It would have been interesting.”

  Doug gave a small, humorless laugh. “I don’t think you want to get involved with something like that. If that bill were counterfeit, you’d have federal agents breathing down your neck in two seconds flat.”

  “New customers,” Hannah said with a grin, slipping the bill inside her purse and getting up from her chair. “Thanks, Doug. I guess we’ll never know the story behind that new-old bill. I thought it might be contraband and someone had sat on it for years, afraid to spend it before now.”

  “Wait a second, Hannah. You might have something there. Let me check the serial number.”

  “What will that tell you?”

  “When a bank gets new bills, they come in packaged by denomination and serial number. If this one was stolen in a bank robbery and they took packaged bills from the safe, the bank would have reported the serial numbers to the authorities.”

  “And you can check that?”

  “Of course. The computer’s in the middle of an automatic backup right now, but I’ve got hard copy of the loot list.”

  “Loot list?”

  “That’s what we call it. The official title is about twenty words long. It’s a cross-reference index by year and serial number.”

  “And it lists money from bank robberies?”

  “It lists some of it. If a robber comes in and empties the cash drawer, there’s no record of the serial numbers. But if he takes money from the safe, there is. And it’s not just from bank robberies. It’s also a list of marked money.”

  “Like the cops give out when they’re trying to track down a ring of scam artists?”

  “That’s right. Hold on a second and I’ll get the printout.”

  Hannah poured herself more coffee while Doug was gone. It was so good, she even considered installing a gourmet coffee bar in The Cookie Jar, but she didn’t think that would go over well in Lake Eden. New fads took years to catch on and the residents in Lake Eden would balk at paying three or four dollars of their hard-earned cash for a cup of designer coffee.

  “I’ve got it,” Doug said, coming in the door with a large three-ring notebook. “Read off that serial number and I’ll see if it’s in here.”

  Hannah gave him the serial number and Doug flipped the pages to the proper section. He ran his fingers down a long line of numbers and then he looked up with an excited expression. “I knew it was a long shot, but it’s in here. Your ten-dollar bill was part of the cash that was stolen from the Redwing City Bank in June of nineteen seventy-four.”

  “Stolen money?”

  “That’s right. Keep your eye out for more and tell Lisa to do the same. I’ll copy this page and give it to Sheriff Grant. He can have his deputies dis
tribute it to every merchant in town, and we might be able to catch ourselves a bank robber. Think back, Hannah. Do you have any idea who gave you this bill?”

  Hannah assumed the most innocent expression she could muster as she shook her head. She remembered what Doug had said about federal agents breathing down her neck, and she wasn’t about to involve her baby sister in a bank robbery investigation until she’d had the chance to talk to her first.

  Chapter

  Nineteen

  O f course Delores had called to invite her to the family party. Once Hannah had fed Moishe, she changed into a pair of old jeans that had become threadbare through frequent washings and were perfect for summer. The waist felt a bit loose and that made her wonder just how many pounds she’d lost.

  Hannah glanced in the mirror as she slipped into a cotton pullover sweater with short sleeves. It was in one of her favorite colors, a muted teal that looked good with her red hair. She’d worn it for good until she’d dripped mustard on the front at the volunteer fire department’s picnic last year. The mustard had come out, but the stain remover she’d used had lightened the material. Rather than relegate the sweater to the ragbag, she’d dabbed the stain remover on in a random pattern all over the material, washed it again, and now she had several dozen dime-sized circles of light teal dancing down the front and back of her new “designer” sweater.

  It didn’t look half bad, Hannah thought, glancing in the mirror. She skinned her hair back into a ponytail, a style she knew was probably too young for her, but she planned to drive with her windows open and she could ditch the elastic band once she got to the lake. Then she went back to the kitchen to refill Moishe’s bowl for the final time, slung her purse over her shoulder, and hurried down to her truck to drive to Eden Lake.

  Twenty minutes later, Hannah found a parking place at the side of the dirt road that ran past the lake cottage that had been in the Swensen family for the past thirty years. It had belonged to her grandparents, who had rented it out every summer for the extra income. When her father had inherited it, he’d done the same. As a child, Hannah had spent two weekends at the cottage every year. One had been at the beginning of May when it was still too cold to set foot in the lake. They’d spent that weekend getting the cabin spruced up and ready for the summer rental season. Hannah’s second summer weekend had been at the tail end of August right after dog days, when the surface of Eden Lake had been covered with algae so thick, Hannah hadn’t been allowed to swim. That time had been spent winterizing the cottage, shutting off the water and bleeding the pipes, covering the screens with heavy plastic to protect them from the icy winter winds, and packing up the dishes and silverware to store for the next summer.